Chapter Five.

Tuesday dawned bright and early and Ayla grudgingly went back to work. She had enjoyed her longer than normal weekend off and was really not looking forward to another week in work. She would even go as far to say that she had enjoyed the Ball last night. As she waited for the security charms to disable she gazed up at the sky. It looked like it was going to be a clear day for Oliver's match against Pride of Portree. No, not Oliver's match, Puddlemere's match. Little slip-ups like that would cost her dearly if her friends found out that she had spent the entire evening with one of the men they adored so much. She rolled her eyes at the thought of how many different questions they would think up in order to gain a completely clear picture of the evening.

The morning and afternoon passed slowly, nothing exciting or distracting happened. The few customers that did enter the shop merely browsed for several minutes before leaving. Ayla liked days like this, it gave her time to think. Her thoughts today though tended to focus on a certain Keeper. She supposed the lack of shoppers was due to the days match. Those few who were unable to get to the game would no doubt be crowed round a wireless somewhere. If Puddlemere triumphed today it would be their eighth win in a row. Very few teams had managed such a feat lately. Support was understandably high for Puddlemere but there were also many watching who were waiting for the team to slip up. Ayla, who normally remained impartial - due to her complete lack of interest, secretly had her fingers crossed for Oliver. Why shouldn't his team win? They trained just as hard as everyone else. Harder even, if you believed what Oliver had to say about his competitions training regimes.

Still, she didn't dare turn the shop wireless on. She knew she'd find out eventually but for the time being she was happy not to know. The day continued on, boring and quiet and Ayla was thankful when she could finally close and lock the doors, shutting the world out.

Oliver didn't know why he was in Diagon Alley and not out celebrating with his team. Of course they had won. His team was faster and far better, there was no way they could lose. He didn't care what the nay-sayer's said, his team had every chance of winning the league this year, now more than ever. He reached his destination, everything was locked up. It was stupid to have turned up at this time of day and expect her to still be there working. But he had wanted to see her. To tell her how they'd won, how she'd been right about the softness of the ground. He was about to leave and join his team in their celebrations when he noticed a light on upstairs. Maybe she was still there, maybe she was about to leave. Oliver started to hammer his fist on the door, shouting as loud as he could. What was he doing? He barely knew this witch yet it mattered to him what she thought. He thanked Circe for small mercies and the fact that it was after hours and not many people would see him acting so strangely. To his extreme relief she was still there, though she looked hesitant to open the door.

Ayla was cautious as she left the office and walked down to the front of the shop. Some maniac was apparently trying to beat the door down. But the voice that was shouting her name sounded familiar. It was Oliver. Standing on the other side of the door grinning at her like the village idiot. What was going on? She honestly never expected to see him again. Yet here he was, bellowing her name as if the hounds of hell were after him. She was completely puzzled.

"We won! We won! I had to tell you. Isn't it great? We beat the Prides!"

Now she really was confused. He had come to where she worked to tell her the Quidditch results? It just didn't make any sense.

"Ok that's uh awesome, well done. Do you need any, you know, uh, equipment?"

That had to be the reason he was here. He needed a new broom or something. There was no other way she could explain it, his presence here, now. It made sense this way.

"No I don't need anything," he emphasized the word need. "I just thought we could go for a drink. To celebrate."

Ayla went back to being confused. It was far simpler. He had just captained his team to their eighth victory of the season, and here he was wanting to celebrate with her. Not with his team, but with her. Was that normal behavior? It had never happened before. She decided to go along with him, asking any more questions wouldn't help.

She looked him over out the corner of her eye as she locked up once more, he was too busy staring at the brooms in the window to notice her. He was still in his Quidditch robes, navy blue, and his hair was still messed up from flying. It made him look rugged she thought. She didn't think she had ever used that word before, but right now it seemed to describe him perfectly.

They ended up in a quiet corner of the Leaky Cauldron. More so he wouldn't be noticed than for intimacy. Once again he bought the drinks and she sat and listened to him talk about Quidditch. She smiled at how animated his expressions became as he described how his beater had performed the Dopplebeater Defence with spectacular accuracy. She noticed how well cut his uniform was, how well it fit him. Navy suited him. The gold emblem of twin crossed bulrushes caught the light and reflected it up onto his face, lighting up his features. She knew she was daydreaming again, not taking in a single word he was saying, but she didn't care. He was only talking about Quidditch, she wasn't missing anything interesting. The old grandfather clock in the corner chimed seven and she knew she couldn't sit here all night. She had arranged to meet Sarah in an hour. Ayla tried her hardest to think of a way she could contact Sarah from the pub, without Sarah knowing where she was, and cancel the arrangements they had made. She knew it was hopeless there was no way Sarah would take no for an answer. But still Ayla wanted to stay here. With Oliver. Even though he wasn't her type, too lean, not tall enough and completely Quidditch obsessed. Still she liked his company. Plus she didn't want to share her night with him with Sarah. Not just yet. She wouldn't approve.

She looked back to Oliver to find him smiling at her.

"You know you're a great listener. Most girls just tune out half the time."

Ayla blushed, he really didn't know her did he?

"I'm sorry, I've got to go. I said I'd meet up with a friend. I kinda promised to."

She thought she saw something like disappointment flicker in his eyes. But if he was he didn't say anything. In fact he was a perfect gentleman and offered to walk her home. Although there really wasn't much point, she only lived five minutes away. They said their goodbyes once more, Ayla felt even more reluctant to leave this time, and agreed to meet up again.

"It's great to have someone outside the game to talk." Oliver had said as she left. Ayla was in no doubt that that was all she was to him - someone to talk to. She couldn't help but want to be more though, despite knowing so little about him. It was nothing but a stupid wish really. He was bound to have a secret girlfriend hidden away somewhere. Who he adored and who was absolutely and fantastically perfect in every single way. Who looked like she was floating when she walked. And worst of she was probably so nice and sweet and utterly wonderful that even Ayla would like her. And Oliver would be head over heels in love with her of course, how could he not be? She, whoever she was, was perfect. Lucky cow.