DISCLAIMER: ok, so I don't own Harry Potter or his universe, still utterly depressed about that by the way. The wonderful Harry Potter and all that goes with him belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling.

Chapter 3:

"Oi Wood. Wood!" I call as I knock on the heavy wooden door. "Wood, get your ass out here!" Damn Oliver bloody Wood and his manager's fears about fan girls. This whole idea about moving to a Muggle neighbourhood to protect Ollie from fan girls is good in theory but not in practise. Sure, it means he is safe from the more psychotic girls who regularly pledge their undying love for him and steal his underwear, but it makes visiting him more trouble than it's worth. "Oliver!" I call yet again as I begin to beat out the Puddlemere Anthem on the door.

I hear the sound of shuffling feet from behind the door followed by "Don' get yeh wand in a knot Weasley." The door swings open to reveal Oliver surveying me with bleary eyes and tussled hair, with Belle at his heel. As my gaze leaves his face I notice he is wearing the same clothes he left the pub in last night.

"Did you know your accent is even stronger when you first wake up? Must make the ladies swoon Ollie." I chuckle as Oliver steps aside to let me in. Oliver is fiercely proud of his Scottish heritage, but is also somewhat embarrassed by it. Not so much the culture, but by the added 'Sex Appeal' his accent presents. Poor bloke, every time he does an interview with Witch Weekly they always refer to his 'rough, manly accent which just oozes sex'. He and Katie used to joke about it all the time. One time Katie even said that one of them had to be 'normal' just so that their relationship functioned. She never did define 'normal'.

Oliver leads me into the Lounge Room where we both take a seat in his two inviting armchairs while Belle curls up on the brown leather lounge. Oliver runs a hand through his hair before flashing me a half-hearted smile. It's obvious he's distracted but I really don't want to push it, he'll tell me about it when he's ready. "Want a cup o' tea or somethin'? Maybe a coffee?" Oliver asks as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Just a tea thanks," I say as I follow him to the kitchen, "and why are you hiding that 'gorgeous' accent of yours Ollie Darling?" I ask in my best impression of Rita Skeeter.

Oliver fixes me with a quick stare before rolling his eyes, "Because I don't need to impress you, that's why." He chuckles as he pulls out the cups and puts the teapot on the stove. I can tell he still misses Katie, he still has little quirks and habits from when they were dating, like making tea the Muggle way. Katie believed that tea and coffee were things that needed to be done without magic, something about the many meanings and feelings that can be conveyed though them. Ollie insists he's ok and has moved on but I don't believe him, he cares about her too much to let her go, I still have no idea why he did.

"Mate, I've actually got a reason that I'm here, and it's not to talk about your next match…" I start. I notice a brief pause in Oliver's movements but continue when he gives me a quick nod to show I have his attention. "I went to go see Katie last night after you left. You know, to apologize for the whole Marietta thing…"Oliver's face floods with concern at the mention of Katie and my brief pause. "She's ok, don't worry about her, just a bit upset. Anyway, I tried to explain that Marietta was interested in me, not you, but she wouldn't have any of it. She just told me to leave her alone. Oh, and she asked me to give you this." I explain as I pull the small letter out of my pocket. "I haven't read it or anything, not my place."

Oliver stares at the envelope apprehensively for a moment before gently taking it from my hand. "Oh… thanks mate, for everything. By the way, her name's 'Maria' not 'Marietta'." He mumbles distractedly as he sits down at the kitchen table and pulls the parchment out of it's envelope. I let the comment slide as I smile gently and scratch Belle's ear lightly.

The kettle whistles loudly and Oliver beings to put down the letter, "Don't worry about it, I'll get it. I think whatever Katie has to say is more important than our tea." I chuckle attempting to lighten the tension that settled in since I mentioned Katie. Oliver smiles at me gratefully as he returns his attention back to Katie's letter and I busy myself with making the tea.

I glance over at Oliver and see concern marring his features, this can't be good. I focus upon making the tea again as Oliver's expression changes to one of hurt. Poor guy, he just cares too much. Maybe I should have left after I gave him the letter… it's a deeply personal moment for Ollie, but I'm worried about him, we all are. He hasn't been the same since he and Katie broke up, sometimes we think the only thing holding him together is that Puddllemere called him into the First-String Team. How much longer he can go on like this? He really just needs to meet somebody, Katie's a great girl but she left him and kept his flat, 'took everything but his name' as the Muggles say. He never actually told me what happened, he just said "We're over, it's for the best".

I look back up as I hear Oliver place the letter upon the table. He stares ahead of himself with a blank look in his eyes, oblivious to my presence. Oliver continues to stare at the wall for a moment before he picks up the letter again and re-reads it, looking hopeful, as though harbouring some hope that the words have changed. Poor guy, whatever Katie has written can't be good. Oliver's face drops as he reads the same message a second time. He places the letter back upon the table and just stares at it as though in deep thought.

Suddenly he stands up and glances around the room, as his eyes settle upon me he says "Um, Charlie, I need to get some fresh air. I need to get out of here. Now… would you mind locking up for me please? Just leave the key under the mat." Oliver walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway, stopping at the table to pick up his wand and some spare change. He then throws goes to throw on his well worn jacket before pausing, hand just grazing the fabric before reaching past it and plucking another jacket out of the closet. As he steps out of the door he turns around and sees me staring at him from the other end of the hallway. "Feel free to read the letter, I don't care anymore." He calls in a disheartened tone. Before closing the door.

Wow. I never thought I'd see Oliver so beaten, I've seen that man take Bludgers to his ribs, nose, arm, even head and look better off. I've seen Oliver Wood jump off his broom to make a save, plummet 30 feet and then just grin and say "But we won". He has a determination and a never say die attitude to life and things that are important to him, such as Katie, Quidditch and well… Katie… She must have written something really hurtful for Ol to give up… No, I won't read it. It's not my place, Oliver will come to me when he's ready. I can wait. But he did say I could… No! He probably wasn't thinking straight, he needs time to get his thoughts in order, then if he's still ok with me reading it I will. But it's just sitting there. Right where Oliver left it, tempting me, calling me.

I need to get out of here, I'll clean up the tea and then I'm out of here. Out of sight, out of mind. With a flick of my wand the cups and teapot soar to the sink where they start washing themselves of their own accord. If I was as good at these spells as Mum then I'd just be able to leave, but alas, I am not. My household spells have often been known to be more dangerous than the dragons I work with. At least if I stick around for a bit I'll be able to clean up if it goes wrong. As I watch the progress of my spell an owl flies through the window and lands on the perch Oliver set up. I gently pry the letter from the owls beak and give it an owl treat before the speckled owl hoots and flies back out of the open window. Oliver and I have always read each others mail, even at Hogwarts if one of us had a stack of mail and the other didn't then we would share the pile and compare the letters and pass along the others information. Don't ask me how we formed such a good friendship, I still don't know but I'm glad we did.

I recognise the thin, neat print instantly and without hesitation open the letter.

O,

You really need to stop comparing your life to Quidditch, I know that they are nearly the same thing, but trust me, one is so much more rewarding. It seems to me you need to sort out your priorities. I'll be over tomorrow at 5pm to assist you with your problem.

Best Wishes,

P

Well at least he's talking to someone I suppose… But what was that about him needing to sort out his priorities? I think this is going a lot deeper than Quidditch. Argh! I want to know what's going on. Oliver confides in me, he has for years, so why isn't he now? It can't be too bad, I mean he's told someone hasn't he? It just wasn't me… Why am I putting myself through this?! He said I could read the damn letter! "Ah stuff it." I grumble as I stalk to the table. I place the new letter on the table next to Katie's. If it was possible to kill a letter the glare I throw at it would definitely do it. I snatch up Katie's letter and unfold it.

Oliver,

I'm sorry about last night, I realise I might have worried you. But please don't worry about me. You stopped worrying about me nine months ago, so why the sudden resurface of old feelings? Oliver, what's done it done and I honestly believe you had a reason for it, no matter how much it hurts me or how much I wish you were wrong. Obviously we were a wrong fit. Maybe I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, athletic enough or even smart enough. Oliver, I don't know why I'm not good enough for you but I have to believe that you do. That's all that gets me through the night.

Honestly, you hurt me Wood, and you've hurt me every day since. Everyday I look at a picture of how we used to be, or at least how I thought we were. When you asked me to dance with you, right in the middle of Oxford Street when we were Christmas shopping for my parents. Every time I look at that photo I ask myself the same question "Why wasn't I good enough?" Pathetic I know, but do you know what's worse? What's even more pathetic then seeking answers that don't matter? The fact that every day I wish you would tell me why, tell me what I could have done to be better. Every day I wish you'd hold me and tell me that we're ok, that I was perfect. Not perfect for everyone, but perfect to you. I wish that you loved me Oliver, but it's obvious you never did.

Until last night I had a slight hope you'd love me again, but now I see that isn't going to happen. I guess you moved on, and why wouldn't you? You're 'The' Oliver Wood, any girl would be lucky you have you and now you can choose who ever you want. The world is a stage, you're the lead actor and you have you're perfect blonde as your leading lady. I realize now that I was only ever a supporting actress. And true to form the supporting actress handles all the extra baggage the hero can't handle on his trip to the top. I wish I could tell you that I'm happy for you, but I can't. I love you Oliver, I always have. I've always wished the best for you but for once I wish you as much pain as I feel everyday. This pain was created by you Wood and I think it's time you took some credit for it, it is after all your 'masterpiece'. You made me who I am today, all of it, the good and the bad.

I love you Oliver, but it's obvious we were never meant to be. You made that clear when you broke your promise. We were a mistake, a beautiful mistake I don't regret making, but I do regret caring about you. I regret falling in love with you. I regret giving you my heart. But most of all I regret how it ended.

All my love, you Chaser,

Bell.

"Whoa…"

Ok, so that's chapter three! Big thanks to everly for reviewing chapter two!

Hope you all liked it a bit more than you seemed to like chapter two, chapter two didn't seem to go down all that well, not angsty enough? Let me know. Reviews shape the story people.

Love ya,

DaPimp.