She hated him. She loved him. She wished he'd disappear. She wished he'd kiss her.
Oliver Wood was an amazing, common, stupid, brilliant, crazy, lovely man. And there was a time when he'd been hers. But that time was over. And now, he'd showed up at her doorstep 3 years since they last spoke and tried to act buddy-buddy with her.
He wrote her a letter once, a few months after the war. That was it though. She couldn't believe he had the nerve to 'visit' her. It annoyed her and made her knees buckle at the same time. And Hermione! Acting so nice. Ginny wanted to smack him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. After all, it was her fault they'd broken up. But then, there hadn't been much to break up from. And he was the one who let her go. He could have come after her. And she resented him for that. Because he didn't.
She'd followed his career though. Watching interviews and saving magazine clippings. She'd been stupid not to put that scrapbook away before he saw it. And why had she let him massage her shoulders? 'Stupid, stupid!' She thought.
And now she was standing across from his, waiting for him to react in some way. But he had this far away look in his eyes, like he was daydreaming. She sighed and combed a hand through her hair which was currently piled in a messy bun on her head. He came back from whatever world he'd been in a second later and she picked up his coat and held it out to him.
"If you wanted me to go, you could have just said so." He said, taking the jacket with a glare. She guffawed.
"I did tell you to!" She protested, but he held up a finger and pointed it at her accusingly.
"No you didn't! Not once!" He accused. It occurred to her that she hadn't actually asked him to leave; she'd just assumed he knew she wanted him to. "Listen, Gin... I just... I've had a lot of time to think, and I've been wondering... why'd you run away from me?"
She froze. She stared at her feet and played with a loose strand of hair, trying to figure out how to answer a question like that. She knew she didn't have to, and he couldn't make her. She knew that. But she wanted to answer. She wanted to be able to say 'because I had to' or 'because you didn't come after me'. But she knew those weren't the reasons at all. Her reasons had been much different.
Many people had died in the war. But no one she was that closed to. And then Bill died, and her world was shattered. She pushed everyone away. It had been forever before she'd finally opened up to Hermione. Her parents and family never knew how much it affected her. Ron had guessed it on several occasions, and he'd been the one she'd talked to. But never Oliver. He couldn't see her being that weak. She wouldn't let anyone know that weakness. It was all she had that was hers.
Oliver was still waiting, starring at her in concern even. He had the nerve to be concerned for her. After 3 years, he had to be over her. He would have done something sooner than this. The moron. Why did he always complicate things, even when he wasn't there? She didn't know where it happened, but somewhere along the way he became the voice inside her head.
"Ginny?" He took a step toward her, reaching out his hand and tilting her chin up. God she hated it when he did that.
"You should go." She whispered, looking him in the eyes. He searched her face for something to betray her real feelings, but she was good at hiding things. He closed his eyes tightly and dropped his hand.
"Alright. I'll be seeing you." He told her. There was a promise and a threat in those words. The door clicked and he was gone.
"I wonder for how long this time..."
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He closed the door behind him and stayed there for a moment, resting his head on the door. She had to hate him. She just had to. He couldn't come up with any other reason for the way she acted around him. Sighing, he stepped away from the door and walked away.
He stayed in a hotel that night, as he didn't feel like going to see Harry and Hermione just now. He pulled off his shirt and climbed into bed, feeling like he hadn't slept in ages. Finally, after tossing and turning for an hour or so, sleep claimed him.
"Oliver..." He heard her voice calling to him, and he turned around. She ran to him, and he caught her. He spun her around happily. She laughed and giggled. He turned his head to kiss her as they spun, and then he wasn't spinning anymore. He set her down, and she looked up into his eyes. Her hand came up to touch his cheek and he turned his head to kiss her palm. She smiled. "Now we can start our life together."
"Together forever." He whispered. Then he leaned down to kiss her. They kissed, and then she pulled away. She looked back and she started to back away from him. He held onto her hand for as long as he could, but it wasn't enough. Soon she was crying and then she was out of his sight.
"Ginny!" He called. But she was gone. Screams were all around him. People were dying again. Seamus was lying next to Neville with their hands intertwined. Ron and Luna and their son were all hulled up together. And when everything had stopped, he looked around for her. He saw her lying there holding his picture. And when he went to be with her, she disappeared...
Oliver sat up straight from his dream, sweating and breathing raggedly. He tried to calm himself down, but his body wouldn't have it. Slowly, he crawled out of bed and hobbled to his bathroom.
It wasn't just a random trip to see her. He knew that. He'd known it from the beginning. For 2 years and 9 months he'd been able to forget about the war, and about her. He'd been able to forget about what he'd had to do to protect the way of life they cherished. He'd been able to forget how much he needed her to love him. And then the dreams started.
They were never about the same thing, but he'd had so many that it almost didn't matter, because they all felt the same. He'd started going back to remember and try to get the dreams to stop, but they hadn't. And then he started dreaming about her. He tried to ignore it at first, but in the end they got the better of him, and that's how he found himself at her house that afternoon. It'd been too much, and even seeing her, that had been some comfort. But the dreams hadn't stopped. They never stopped. He was beginning to think they never would.
It was painful to think about it all. It gave him headaches, and his bones ached with the weight his mind carried. He remembered talking to Malfoy about it in the beginning.
"So, what brings you to my humble abode?" Draco drawled, getting them both something to drink.
"Just popping by for a visit I suppose. Planning on visiting a lot of people." Oliver accepted the mug Draco handed him and sat in the armchair across from him. Draco seemed to be examining him, as if judging his intentions.
"How longs it been now? 3 years? What took you so long?" He asked quizzically, and Oliver winced visibly. Draco smirked. "What's really going on Wood?"
Oliver sighed. "Do you remember when we fought in the second year of the war, and they developed spells for paranoia and nightmares?" Draco nodded. "I think someone's been casting them on me. I keep having these nightmares and thinking that everyone's dead, and my bones ache worse that they used to." He sloshed his coffee around in his cup and it spilled on his fingers, and his steadied his hands. Draco looked pensive for a moment before pulling out his wand.
"Hold still." He ordered. Oliver did as he was told. "Noloconturbo."
Nothing changed.
"Finit'incantatem."
Nothing.
"Venefici'abdo."
Still nothing.
Draco leaned back in his chair and put his wand away, sighing. "I don't know what makes you think that everything that happens to you is so special." His expression was impatient.
"What?"
"Look," Malfoy said, rubbing his eyes. "People who go from a high altitude to a low one often get aches in their joints. And when that happens, they go to the Healers for some of Mother Mayfly's Icy Hot Infusion, and they take a hot bath."
Oliver gritted his teeth at Malfoy's condescending tone. He may be a friend, but he could sure be a jerk when he wanted to.
"And the nightmares?" he demanded.
Malfoy rubbed his forearm. "Wood," he said wearily, "all of us have nightmares."
It was true too. Anyone who'd seen what they had, and done what they'd done would have nightmares. It took Oliver a little longer to realize it, but it sure didn't help any.
Making a decision, Oliver threw on his cloths and walked out the door.