The next morning, Oliver was still snoring in bed next to her when Iris woke up. She quietly crept out of bed, letting him sleep more. She knew he was going to have one hell of a hangover when he did wake up, so she went to the kitchen and got a pot of coffee brewing, then ran upstairs to her chemistry set in the library, fishing out a bottle of her hangover tonic from a large case she kept there. She smiled slightly as she looked down at the bottle, remembering the morning after the Halloween party nearly two years ago. It was the first time they had gone out as a couple. Then, she was the one who had gotten much more drunk than intended and he had helped her into bed. Iris looked over at the coffee pot as she walked back into the kitchen. It was ready. She poured herself a cup and went and sat at the kitchen table, staring out the windows at the bright day at the building across the street. It was Saturday. She didn't have to be at the shop and Oliver wouldn't need to do anything for the league. As soon as he woke up, she would give him the tonic and then they were going to talk.

Maybe there was something to George's advice.

About 20 minutes later, Iris heard shuffling in the corridor. She looked over and watched as Oliver emerged. He was showered and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with his Quidditch bag thrown over his shoulder. Though his face betrayed the throbbing headache pounding his skull.

"Are you going out?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. The look of happy expectation on her face had quickly dissolved into confusion, then disappointment. Oliver stopped with a shocked look on his face, as though he wasn't expecting her to be there.

"Ehm, yea. Some of the guys wanted to get in some training on the outdoor pitch before the weather gets too cold," he said, grimacing slightly at his headache. Iris took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He didn't remember anything from last night. Or he was very good at pretending he didn't. She looked down at the vial on the table in front of her and picked it up. She held it out to him and looked out the window again, sipping her coffee. Oliver walked over and took the vial from her hand.

"Thanks," he said. "You're a lifesaver." He took a sip and relaxed, feeling the immediate effects of the tonic. He sat the bottle down on the table next to Iris. "I'll be back before dinner," he said before kissing her on top of the head and turning to walk to the corridor. Iris nodded.

"Alright then," she said hollowly, this time finally unable to disguise her hurt. Oliver paused for a moment and turned to look back at her. She heard him stop and glanced over at him, her bright green eyes holding a certain heartache. For a moment, she saw a flash of something in his before he turned and continued on.

"Have a good day!" he shouted halfheartedly trying to insert a bit of cheerfulness, but failing miserably. Once she heard the door shut behind him, she allowed the tears pooling in her eyes to silently fall. Of course last night changed nothing. She pushed herself out of the chair and walked over to the French windows, coffee in hand. She stared out the window a moment before pushing it open and walking out on the balcony, taking a deep breath of the crisp fall air. She walked over and sat at the table, looking up at the bright blue sky. The tears were still silently falling down her cheeks, but she didn't care to wipe them away.

From the street, Oliver glance up and saw her on the balcony, staring up at the sky, with the sun flashing off the tears on her face. He looked away and kept walking. He woke up with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. He didn't remember all the details of last night, but had enough recollection that he couldn't bring himself to face her. There was no training that morning, but he figured spending the day beating his body up would be a good way to clear his head. He hadn't expected her to be at the table when he walked out. She had been going to the shop nearly every day. But after last night, of course she would be waiting to talk to him.

That look in her eyes. She had seemed so relieved and hopeful when he first walked out. It killed him to see it quickly fade away. But he wasn't ready. Not yet.

At some point, Iris had gone in and gotten herself ready. Needing something to do, she had pulled out some vegetables she planned to put in a stew later. It was a few hours too early to start on food prep, but chopping was one way to get out her frustration. Amid chops, she heard Harry coming down the stairs. He seemed much more rested than usual.

"You're looking rather fresh," she said with a smile.

"Feeling a bit fresher," he responded. "Got any coffee left?" Iris nodded.

"It's over there in the pot," she said, going back to chopping.

"Thanks," he said as he went over and poured a mug. He then walked over to the open window and peered out. The breeze was getting slightly chillier. The days were still warm, but nights and mornings were getting colder. "Where's Wood? I thought he didn't have anything today." There was a bit of a pause before Iris answered. Harry glanced back at her, noticing that she was staring slightly menacingly at the vegetables that she had been chopping.

"He said some of the players wanted to meet up for training this morning," she said. "Get more in outside before the weather gets too cold." She began chopping again, this time a bit more vehemently than before. Harry surmised that something must have happened, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask. Not when Iris had a knife in her hand. He walked back towards her, slowly.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, cautiously. Iris stopped chopping and looked up at him, tears already starting to form in her eyes.

"For god's sake, I've already cried once this morning and I'd like not to start again," she said as she dropped the knife and wiped at her face furiously. "That, damn… man-child!" she shouted. Harry jumped slightly, not expecting to see an outburst. "He goes and gets completely smashed last night. I come in and have to help him into bed. And then he goes off on this… drunken…" she flung her arms up into the air, "I don't know… confession time. And he's asking if I'm happy and if I still love him. And then he apologizes and says he doesn't deserve me and he'd try harder. Then this morning, I get up assuming we're going to FINALLY talk… Like REALLY talk… And he goes off to play bloody Quidditch, acting like NOTHING happened!" She yelled in frustration. "FUCK!" Iris slammed her hands down on the counter and attempted to regain control of herself.

"Do you feel better?" Harry asked. Iris looked up at him, her eyes red from tears of frustration. She was silent a moment before starting to laugh.

"I think I actually do," she said, slightly breathlessly. "I didn't realize how badly I wanted to yell until now."

"Sometimes it helps," he said. Iris nodded. She looked down at the vegetables.

"I need to finish this up," she said, getting back to work.

"You think maybe he was embarrassed?" Harry asked suddenly. He had walked over and sat at the island, watching Iris. She paused a moment and looked up at him.

"Maybe," she said. "Still frustrating as hell."

"But… it's a step," Harry said.

"An annoyingly small one," she muttered. She put the knife down and put all the vegetables into a tupperware container to save for later.

"Perhaps it might do you some good to get out of the flat today," Harry said. Iris stopped her cleaning and looked up at him.

"What do you propose?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"It's been a long time since I've done anything muggle. Maybe we could go see a movie?" he suggested. Iris blinked at him slightly.

"You want to see a movie?" she asked. Harry shrugged.

"Why not? Dudley talked about them so much that I've always wanted to see one," he said. Iris' eyes widened.

"You mean all that time with Petunia and you never went to see a movie? Even I got to see a few," Iris said. Harry smiled.

"Then it's settled. You'll take me to see my first movie today," he said as he hopped off the stool. "Come on. Let's go."

Iris laughed as she and Harry walked down the sidewalk of Diagon Alley.

"That was spectacular," she exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting it to be so funny."

"But did you really have to jump and knock half the popcorn out?" Harry asked.

"I wasn't expecting that explosion," Iris said. "We should do this more often."

"We should. Make it a weekly thing," he responded. Iris looked at him and smiled. She had to admit that Harry had the right idea by getting out. She no longer felt as angry or frustrated as she did this morning. She had decided she would wait until later that night to talk to Oliver. One way or another, they would have it out tonight.

"I-Iris?" a voice said. Iris stopped and looked ahead, her eyes wide as she immediately recognized James. He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, a parcel in his arms, mouth gaping.

"James?" she looked around then back at him. "What are you doing here?" she almost whispered. Harry looked back and forth between Iris and the tall, dark-headed man standing in front of them. James was the name of her old friend. But he could have sworn that she said he was muggle. What would he be doing in Diagon Alley?

"Um, well… I live here. What are you-" he suddenly stopped, recognizing Harry standing next to her. It became apparent that he was putting it all together as a look of understanding came over his face. "This is your nephew? Harry." Iris nodded silently. He smiled and started laughing. "This whole time we were both… Christ, this is something."

"You're a wizard?" she asked. He nodded.

"And you… you're Iris Evans," he stated simply. Iris stared at him, still in shock. Harry stepped forward.

"Well, you must be this James that we've heard all about. It's nice to finally meet you," Harry said stepping forward. He stuck his hand out and James firmly shook it.

"I've heard all about you. My younger sister was in your year at Hogwarts. Pansy. Pansy Parkinson," he said. As if Harry couldn't get anymore shocked by the day's events. Iris looked back and forth between the two, unable to speak.

"I think you've broken her," Harry quipped as he looked at Iris, amused. James laughed.

"Why don't we get some tea and see if we can clear some things up," James suggested. Iris looked at him and nodded. "Follow me." He turned and started walking. Harry and Iris followed.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Iris finally said as she caught up with him. James looked down at her.

"Well, I thought you were muggle. I couldn't very well tell you I was a wizard, could I? I suspect that was the same reason why you never said anything to me," he stated matter-of-factly. Iris nodded.

"Something like that," she said. James recalled the bits and pieces of her story that he had heard since he returned to England. There was still an air of mystery around Iris, but word had gotten out after the battle of Hogwarts. That Harry had an aunt. And how she had protected many during the fight - though no one was too sure exactly how she did it. James looked down at her, this time with a sense of awe. All those secrets he had sensed before, he now understood a bit more why she kept them.

And now everything she had said about Oliver made sense. They had been there, fighting together. They lost friends. Trauma like that was sure to have lasting effects. He glanced back down at her, amazed to see she seemed to be adjusting well. He wanted to ask her about it, but for now, he pushed it aside. He would wait until the next time they were alone to broach the subject.

"Here we are," he said, walking up to a small tea shop. They went in and sat at a table in front of the window. James quickly ordered.

"So this whole time you thought Iris was muggle and she thought you were muggle?" Harry said once they were situated. James looked at him, still not quite believing that the nephew Iris had been talking about was none other than Harry Potter. Nor that she was the long-lost sister of Lily Potter. Nor that the Oliver she was so worried about was the Puddlemere United keeper, Oliver Wood. He still couldn't quite put together the Iris he knew before with the Iris he had heard about. But they were the one and the same.

"It would appear so," he said, amused. "So that time you snuck us backstage…"

"I charmed the guard into letting us in," Iris admitted. "And the time you got tickets to a supposedly sold out show?"

"I transfigured two receipts," he said. Iris found herself laughing and shaking her head.

"I can't believe this whole time I didn't catch on at all," she said.

"Nor I, though I suppose we were both too concerned with hiding our own magic that we didn't think to see it in the other," he said.

"So you two really did sneak into concerts all the time when you were younger?" Harry asked, excited to meet someone from Iris' past. Someone who held good memories for her.

"Quite a bit," James admitted. "And got roaring drunk a fair amount as well."

"What on earth were you doing out in muggle London?" Iris asked.

"Rebelling," James said. Iris laughed.

"Good lord," she said. Harry watched the two. He hadn't seen Iris laugh like this in awhile. It was almost like she was her old self.

The three chatted for a good two hours or so, with Iris and James trading stories. Harry would chime in with questions from time to time. But it was starting to get late and Iris remembered she still needed to get dinner on before Oliver got back. They parted ways on the sidewalk with a promise to have James over in the near future, now that the secret was out.

Harry glanced over at Iris as they walked home, catching her smiling.

"It seems like you two were close," he said. She nodded.

"He was the only real friend I had during that time," she said.

"Didn't you say you dated?" he asked.

"Well… not really. Close. But, I knew I couldn't get close to anyone back then. And now I know why he was a bit hesitant as well. Blimey, not only is he a wizard, he's a pureblood," she said.

"Well, I like him," Harry said. "He seems nice. And he's a Quidditch fan. He'll have a lot to talk about with Wood." Iris nodded.

"That they will," she said. "That they will."

Oliver walked with purpose. He was weaving his way down Diagon Alley towards the flat. He had trained hard all day, pushing himself harder than he had in awhile, and it had been good for him. Not just for the approaching season, but it cleared his head. He knew he needed to talk to Iris. And now, he felt more like he could. He was still a bit embarrassed about last night, but more than that, he was ashamed that he had shied away from talking about it with Iris that morning.

They needed to talk. If things were ever going to work out between them, they needed to communicate and holding back out of fear of how she would react wouldn't do either any good. So tonight, they would talk. He felt lighter after he had made the decision. There was a slight bounce in his step. Tonight, he would finally make the first move to getting them back to where they used to be. He could almost hear Iris' laughter in his mind. Not the forced laughter of late, but her old laugh. Like that night at the Halloween party. It had been so long ago, but the memory was so fresh.

Oliver stopped, realizing the laughter wasn't in his head. He looked around and froze when he realized it was wafting from the open door of a tea shop. In the window, he saw Iris sitting, laughing with Harry and a tall, dark-haired man with light blue eyes. He watched, confused. He had a vague recognition of him. He was a few years older, but he remembered seeing him at Hogwarts. Parkinson. He had been in Ravenclaw.

"God, James. You remember the time we had to fight off the groupies?" Iris said, her voice clear as day through the open door.

"I thought they were going to slaughter you. Wait… was that you that made them go away?" he asked. Iris nodded.

"Guilty," she said.

"They were chased off by a swarm of bees," James said, turning to fill Harry in. Oliver stiffened a bit. So this was James. He was still a bit confused, as he thought he was muggle. More than that, he took in Iris' easy demeanor with him. James' broad shoulders were shaking with laughter as Iris reached for her tea, her face full of mirth. James was looking over at her, his awe and attraction evident on his face.

Something stirred in Oliver. Without thinking he found himself taking a step towards the door of the shop. That was his girlfriend that James was openly admiring. But just as suddenly, he stopped, gripping the shoulder of his bag tightly. Oliver shook his head. No. He wouldn't go in. He didn't want to make a scene. He stepped back. Finally, ripping his eyes from them, he walked towards home.