(an: The poem she repeats is a song by Hoobastank. They own it, even if Emma tries to claim it. Thanks for all the reviews. You guys kick butt.)

Ch. 13

Today is our first Quidditch match of the season. Merlin I'm nervous. The weather has been horrible all week. Of course, Oliver had us out every day training in it. Mainly because those crappy Slytherins "couldn't play". Damn them. I had to sit out in the pouring rain for a week because they didn't want to get wet. Probably afraid they'd melt.

Oliver couldn't even talk when he tried to give his pep talk. I believe he actually gurgled. I've never heard a seventeen year old male gurgle before.

So, we followed him out to the pitch and I took my seat on the bench. About five minutes later, I got pissed off when I realized the game had started and I couldn't see a damn thing.

This sucked.

So here I was, sitting alone on a bench, soaked to my underwear, staring at a thunderstorm, when I got the hiccups.

This really sucked.

I considered going back to the castle, figuring no one would miss me, when Oliver called a time-out.

He informed us that we were fifty points up. I was curious to how the hell he knew. I was sitting in front of the score box and I didn't know. Okay, I was in a bad mood. I mean, how in the crap-house was Harry going to see in this? Then that Granger girl came down and put a spell on Potter's glasses. I could have kissed her. That's when I saw that Oliver had the same look on his face. Suddenly I wanted to punch that stupid Grungy girl. Funny how your moods change when you're boobs are hanging around your waist because your bra is ten pounds heavier when wet.

And so the game started again.

Then I realized something. Lightning is my friend. It allowed me to see the game mere milliseconds at a time.

Minutes later, I got pissed at lightning. What a bitch she turned out to be. One minute things were going good, I thought, but then Diggory saw the Snitch. I figured Potter could beat him to it. Wrong again. Harry passed out and fell close to fifty feet to the ground.

Hufflepuff wins.

Gryffindor loses.

Dementors running wild.

Harry was unconscious on the ground.

And I couldn't find Oliver.

I was going to find Murphy and kill him. Who the hell comes up with a theory as cracked-ass as that, then curses the world with it. "Whatever can go wrong, will." Bleeding ass idiot. Better for everyone to think you are a fool than to open your mouth and prove it, Murphy.

I decided to stop ranting and find Ollie. I had a couple of guesses to where he was, and they all lead me to the locker room showers.

I found him sitting on the floor underneath the showerhead, letting the water cascade over his already-wet uniform. His mouth was hanging open, overflowing with water, and his eyes were closed.

"Hey crackpot, hasn't anyone ever told you that you can't drown yourself?"

He spit the water out.

"You got a better idea?"

I sat down next to him under the water. What the hell, I was wet already.

"We lost." He said.

"Yes, Captain Obvious, we did lose, but we still have a shot."

"Only if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw by more than two hundred points. Then we'd have to beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

"And Slytherin would have to lose to Hufflepuff."

"We have about a one in a million shot of any of that happening. So we're screwed."

"What about a rematch, I mean, dementors have to be interference, right?"

"I already admitted to everyone that Diggory won it fair and square."

"Oh, Ollie."

"How's Harry?"

"I think he's still unconscious."

Oliver muttered a curse word.

I laid my head on his shoulder.

"Do you have any more of that poetry?" he asked. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where that came from. I realized he was talking about that Dawn poem. I racked my brain for the perfect poem for the situation. I could think of only one.

"I, like a rock sink. Sinking till I hit the bottom. The water is much deeper than I thought. Nothing to swim with. Kicking, but I keep sinking. A lesson no one could have ever taught."

"That's so sad. Is there any more?" he asked. I knew it was making him feel better, so I kept going.

"Cause I can almost breath the air. Right beyond my fingertips. I'll turn around and pick up the pieces. One more push and I'll be there. Back where I belong. I'll turn around and pick up the pieces."

"Keep going." He begged me, laying his head atop of mine.

"I see the picture. Blurry but now it's in focus. A fairy tale I purchased on my own. I finally woke up. Everything is better. A chance for me to open up and grow."

"Who wrote that?" he asked now.

"I did." I answered, and I felt him tense up. I decided to finish it.

"Suffocating, sinking further. Almost everyday. Barely treading water. Knowing I will not give up. I will not give up."

"Why did you write that?" he whispered. I didn't answer him.

"It was because of me, wasn't it." He said the words I could not.

"It was just a release, Ollie. I'm over it now."

"I'm sorry I did that to you."

"Forget it Oliver, it doesn't matter anymore."

"It matters to me." He said, turning around to face me. I couldn't believe he was bringing this up.

He stared at me for what seemed like an eternity.

"Aw, screw it all." he muttered.

And then he kissed me.