Here is the second part of the story I had previously given up hope on (thanks a million to for the review that made me decide to give this thing another go). I know it's not very long, and probably not very good – none of this has been beta'd b.t.w. so sorry in advance for any spelling, grammar etc, mistakes made – but I felt I needed to complete it to...well, to complete it!

Disclaimer: Obviously, I am not JK Rowling. If I was, I'd be busy at work updating my website while my readers waited impatiently for July 16th, not writing OW/CD stories. So there's really no need to sue, because you wouldn't get much anyway.

Warning: While it's all Oliver's perspective after Cedric has died, this does deal with implied slashy thoughts so if it irks you in any way, the back button was designed with you in mind.

The snow was falling more heavily now and the sun had given up its fight with the clouds, retreating behind them, biding it's time till the sky had cleared. Something caught his eye and he turned around, startled.

Seeing nothing, Oliver Wood turned back around, but he had the strange feeling that he was no longer alone. He couldn't tell what had brought on the sensation, but something inside him had shifted and he no longer felt the same urgency to end his pathetic half-life. His space had been invaded, and he didn't want to go through with this, not if someone might be watching. Ending his life was a very private thing for Oliver Wood, and after being hounded by the press constantly after Cedric died and he so drastically changed he knew he didn't want his...final action...to be public knowledge; at least not until he was dead and gone. He felt empty somehow, drained of everything. It was almost as if Cedric had died all over again, and he was back to square one: numbness.

He got up slowly and looked around himself for the first time since he'd gotten here. The graveyard was small and one could easily miss it if they were not looking, oh but how Oliver had been looking. It seemed that in comparison to preparing Harry Potter against his final battle with You-Know-Who, the death of Cedric Diggory somewhat dulled and as such it had been rather hard for Oliver Wood to track down where Cedric Diggory was buried, since no one seemed to know where exactly this was. Either that or they knew but wouldn't tell because they were concerned for the well being of the deceased's burial site, thinking that if Oliver Wood was looking for the grave of Cedric Diggory, it must be to smash his stone in for winning that bloody game.

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Looking back now, he wished he had gone to the funeral, paid his final respects to the man he would always love, but this could not be helped now, almost 4 years later. At the time, everything had been hazy, and he was not even sure if he had been aware of there being a funeral at all. He realized sadly that he probably hadn't been notified, simple as that. Oliver never read the newspaper for fear of seeing another lie about an innocent witch or wizard – namely himself - plastered across the front page, and no one had known about Oliver's obsession-like love for the younger Quidditch player. Oliver had lost touch with most of his old school mates after he left Hogwarts, so there would be no reason for any of them to have thought of him then. If people even thought about the two of them together at all, they probably envisioned Oliver tearing Cedric apart for destroying his team's beautifully managed winning streak – which all came back to Oliver having to find the site on his own.

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The wind had picked up speed, blowing the snow in every direction. This in combination with the absolute loneliness he was starting to feel made Oliver suddenly want to cry, not silent tears but real ones this time. He had never been a highly emotional man; in fact, he sullenly realized to himself that the only emotions people probably thought he was capable of feeling were strong doses of determination and anger...lots of anger when his determination didn't pay off. Regardless of what other people might have though, right now now all Oliver wanted was someone, anyone at all, to be there with him, just holding him. Nothing particularly passionate, just a deep sense of...he wasn't really sure what. Friendship, he supposed. Lasting friendship, the kind that would span all the ages of the world, even after the people themselves had died. Or even the kind that came back life after life, installing its self in new sets of people; this was Oliver's explanation for the feeling he got – rarely, but it still counted – when he felt like he'd known someone forever, mere hours after they had first met.

Oliver understood with a pang that moved slowly through him, like the effects of an injection of some kind of drug, this was how he'd felt about Cedric, and for the hundredth time he wondered why... why hadn't he done something about that frighteningly strong connection he'd felt with Cedric? It didn't do to dwell on this "why," this "what if" stuff, Oliver knew that. Why couldn't he just get the goddamn thing over with? Once more, with renewed energy he picked up the knife from where he had set it on the ground and...

Two truths struck Oliver like an oncoming train, causing him to drop the blade in shock. The first: that he had known the reason he hadn't done anything about his feelings for Cedric, known it all along. He was afraid - petrified was more like it - of rejection. He'd never even been sure if Cedric was gay or not (he'd never seen any sign of it if he was and the pessimistic (and much more dominant) side of him said "of course he isn't, life wants nothing more than to screw you over" – and there was no way Oliver Wood was about to ask and potentially get hurt. He remembered seeing the object of his affection with that Chang girl, walking giddily down the halls, arms wrapped around each other's waists, hips bumping all the way, and the burning feeling he felt in his stomach watching them. The thought of his man with anyone else was beyond agonizing, but still Oliver was too scared to say anything.

And the second truth, which didn't help any added on to the first truth, was that he was absolutely terrified of death...of the not knowing what came after, if that was it or if there was something else beyond the body dying and the soul leaving it. The logical part of him said once he was dead he'd be gone, so who would he be to care either way, but Oliver was still very alive at the moment and the speculation and sadness and loneliness and fear, the driving, gnawing fear – nasty little bugger – and now the two truths on top of everything else were too much for the fragile keeper to deal with. And so, he made one final compromise with him self. He'd call it a night with this whole suicide business thing, go find a nice bar with a large supply of Firewiskey handy and try again in the morning.

.....................................................................Or so he thought. Not being a seer, he had no idea that tonight when he walked into that tavern the man behind the bar would be.......well, I'm gonna let you do your own speculating, think a little, "broaden your minds" – but not that much. Let's just leave it at this: after tonight, Oliver Wood won't be thinking about death for a long, long time.

FIN!!

A/N 2: Wow! I actually finished something! Aren't you proud? Screw that, who cares if you're proud, I am and that's that! sticks out tongue but seriously, if you got this far it means you finished my, um...little 2 shot thing, or you just scrolled down to the end I'm not sure why but lets just leave that one at THAT so don't forget to review! Please? The only request I make is no flamers PLEASE, cause I'm not feeling too impressed with this thing anyway, so I really don't need anyone else telling me it sucks. If you feel that way, don't worry, I'm feeling something of the same. BUT...don't let that stop you from reviewing!