Rain poured from the clouds and beat down against my back, certainly suiting the horrid mood I found myself in the Monday following the Quidditch match. I couldn't understand how we had lost so spectacularly, and to Hufflepuff nonetheless. 200-40? That was a bit embarrassing.

I didn't know how long I had been running around the pitch, but I wasn't planning on stopping until I had thoroughly punished myself. The rain blurred my vision, and I had long since forgotten the Gryffindor practice that had been occurring above my head and out of sight. Why Wood insisted on practicing in this weather, I had no bloody clue. He was beyond bonkers, sometimes.

I soon lost myself in thought, replaying Saturday's game over and over in my head. I had blacked out completely. I couldn't even remember what happened, really. I remembered looking in the stands, searching for Diggory and Cho, and then turning my head before, apparently, a bludger came and knocked me senseless. I woke up in the Hospital Wing late at night, surprised to find that Oliver was at my bedside and ready to comfort me.

I was informed by Fiona that Oliver had easily been the first one on the pitch and at my side after I had fallen. She said that he had stayed with me, even when my own team had decided to call it a night. This greatly tore at me, but it made my heart swell with pride in the fact that it had finally won this war.

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud, accented voice calling my name. I kept running, pushing myself harder through the downpour. The voice grew louder, and I was shocked when hands wrapped around my shoulders and held me back, forcing me to stop.

I was breathing heavily as I turned and looked up into his face.

"You've got to stop, Rue," Wood said loudly over the sound of the rain.

I stared blankly up at him, raindrops weighing heavy on my lashes.

"We're all inside. Please, come with me."

I only nodded, and he pulled me after him to the Gryffindor changing rooms.

I wiped the rain from my face as we entered the rooms. The Gryffindor team looked up at me, some puzzled. Others, like Fred and George, smiled contentedly. I followed Oliver into the office he was granted as a captain. He shut the door behind me. I had never been in another captain's office before. His was rather bare, save for a poster of some Scottish Quidditch pitch in Perth that I was vaguely familiar with. There were books lined on the shelves and some notebooks, no doubt full of play ideas, were piled on top of them.

My eyes finally slid to Oliver, who was watching me as I inspected his room and was holding out a towel. I grabbed it and muttered my thanks as I pulled it over my face and slid it through to the ends of my hair, which were curling up, much to my dismay.

After drying off myself as best I could, I handed the towel back to Wood, who tossed it on a nearby chair. It was tensely quiet between us for some time, and it made me nervous. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Rue, I," he started before looking down at his feet. He took a deep breath before stepping closer to me.

It reminded me of the dreams I had been so haunted by this past month, and then my thoughts flew to the all the snogs. I wanted to withdraw, but I knew I couldn't. I shouldn't.

As much as I hated to admit it to myself, I was fond of him. Fond of arguing with him, fond of torturing and upsetting him, fond of how he sought me out almost daily, fond of how he was able to hold his own against all the shit I gave him, fond of the sound of his voice when he said my name… As insufferable as he could be, I really did fancy him.

He opened his mouth to speak, now standing toe-to-toe with me and looking down into my eyes. Merlin, how brown his eyes were.

His lips remained slightly parted, but no words came. His fingers reached for my hair, curling a wave around his finger before he let his entire hand weave its way through. I couldn't help but lean into its warmth, suddenly aware of how cold I was.

It was then that his other hand gently and hesitantly slid under my chin and further raised my face. His warm fingers brushed down my neck and my breath quickened. He leaned down slowly, his eyes searching mine before my own finally slid shut.

I could feel his breath against my skin, my lips. It was warm. This was nothing like all those other snogs. Was this how it was supposed to be? Was it really just as those bloody awful romance novels depicted?

His lips had only lightly brushed against mine when there was a harsh and abrupt knock on the door. We both flew apart. I turned, leaning against his desk, and faced the wall displaying the poster. I could feel my cheeks burning at what had just barely happened. Oliver opened the door, and Fred's voice floated into the room.

"We're gonna make a run for the castle before it gets worse. You both should probably come, too. Don't want you to get trapped here for the night!"

I could sense the smirk in Fred's voice. I bristled and huffed before turning and brushing past the two of them.

November ended and a chilly December settled in the following week. I didn't see much of Oliver, and it bothered me to no end. In classes, he barely glanced at me, only chancing one if I wasn't looking, according to Rose. He no longer searched for me in the corridors or tried to talk to me. It infuriated me, and I knew precisely why. Rose, Fiona and Carrie were still trying to draw out a confession that I fancied the bloke, especially with my depressed mood. However, I refused to give them the satisfaction and went on wallowing in my disappointment and dejection on my own.

I let out a groan as I sat on a bench next to Fred and George. They glanced at me and exchanged a knowing look.

"What's wrong with our Rue-Rue?" George asked.

"Oh, like you don't know, you cow," I said harshly, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Don't need to be touchy, dearest. We've already got a Quidditch coach acting off, we don't need our best mate doing the same."

"What?" I perked up instantly, curious about Oliver's moodiness.

"Yeah, you know, he's just been… a bit strange, you know, since that rain storm we had."

"You know, the one where he rescued you from the storm and brought you to the safety of his office," George supplied.

"And, we've noticed that you've been the same," Fred continued.

George nodded, "We just notice Oliver a bit more, being in the same house and all. But that's besides the point. I saw him just the other day with Twelve Failsafe Ways to Charm Witches."

"And I saw him snooping about the library, in the poetry section. Methinks the boy's heart aches for she who refuses him!" Fred cried dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Oliver in the poetry section? Hardly. I wasn't even sure if we had a poetry section in the library. They were just making that up. Sometimes the twins' imaginations got the best of them.

"Well, from the sounds of it, she hasn't really been refusing him at all, has she, Fred?" George cocked his head to the side, studying me.

A smirk snuck onto Fred's lips, "No, I suppose she hasn't."

"You wankers are full of rubbish," I said, sliding back a bit on the bench.

"That's just what we saw," Fred shrugged.

"And, as much as we'd love to stay and chat," George said as they both rose to their feet, "we really must be going."

"Chin up, yeah? We miss the fun Rue," Fred said as they took off down the corridor, weaving in and out of incoming students. I sighed, closed my eyes, and leaned back against the cool stone wall.

It seemed that the Weasley twins weren't the only ones who felt the need to interrogate me about my recent behaviour that day. Klaus and Anna approached me as I made my way to dinner.

"If it isn't my darling sister, Rue," Klaus cried in a sickeningly sweet tone that he usually reserved for Anna. He took my arm and slipped it in the crook of his, gently patting the back of my hand.

"What do you want?" I groaned.

Anna giggled beside me. I couldn't help but to roll my eyes.

"I was simply wondering what's got you in such a foul mood of late, sister mine," Klaus said nonchalantly.

"We thought that it was because of a certain Gryffindor, you know," Anna said.

Klaus gave her a look over the top of my head. "You thought that, Anna. I said that we should ask Rue. So, what has been bothering you?"

"Nothing that concerns you, brother mine," I shot back.

"Tsk, tsk, just tell me."

"No."

"But you admit that something is bothering you?" Anna asked in a hopeful voice.

I glanced at her, "Yes."

"And," I turned my attention back to my brother, "is this 'something' really a 'someone'?"

I shrugged.

"Ah, so it is!" Klaus said triumphantly.

Anna let out another giggle.

"Now, who is someone who bothers my sister?" Klaus mused aloud.

Anna hummed beside me, "Oh, I don't know. Only one comes to mind, really."

"Yes, quite right, Anna darling! The reason my sister is troubled must be because of Mr Wood of Gryffindor House!"

I grumbled incoherently, a slew of curses running through my mind, before I roughly tugged my arm from my brother and stomped off into the Great Hall.

Later that day, I sat in the Common Room, working diligently, for once, on an Ancient Runes essay that had been assigned that very same day.

Fiona was walking past the table I sat at, but stopped and turned.

"Hey, Rue?"

I looked up from my parchment, "Yeah?"

"Aren't you going up to the Astronomy Tower to work on your chart?"

I furrowed my brow. "I wasn't planning on it, why? When's it due?"

"Tomorrow, I thought!" Fiona gushed.

My eyes widened and I shot up out of my seat. "Bloody hell!"

I darted for our dormitory and grabbed my chart, stuffing it into my bag before flying back down the stairs, past Fiona, and out to the corridor.

I sighed, looking through the scope at the constellations above. Why I had opted to take Astronomy as a sixth year was beyond me, as it was pointless chart assignments like that which irked me. And it wasn't a terribly useful subject either. Stupid OWLs.

I had just finished writing "Sirius" on the name of the brightest star with a flourish when I heard a shuffling behind me. I spun around to see who it was, brandishing my quill in what I hoped was a somewhat threatening manner.

I lowered my hand, however, when I saw that it was Oliver. I felt my heartbeat increase its pace. "Er, hi," I managed breathlessly.

I turned back to my chart, rolled it up, and jammed it into my bag with my quill and inkwell. I was about to pull the bag over my shoulder when I felt a soft, warm touch on my forearm. I let the strap fall back on the table and turned to face the inevitable.

He was closer than I had thought.

"Oliver, I…" I bit my lip. "What, I mean… Why have you been avoiding me all week? And then you come here? How did you know-"

I trailed off, running my tongue over my lower lip, when I saw the pained expression on his face as he closed his eyes. I didn't know what I had done to cause this or what to do. It wasn't fair.

"Look, I didn't mean to offend y-"

This time he cut me off, his voice warm and lilting in the quiet stillness. "Just let me say this before I realize what a fool I am, and I change my mind. You can go back to hating me, but you must know how I feel, even if I can't put it into words of my own."

He opened his eyes. I studied them for a moment before nodding and waiting for him to continue. I awkwardly shifted my weight and clasped my hands in front of myself. Finally, he took a shaky breath as he looked down at his feet.

He began softly: "The nightly heavens are not more beautiful Than you, beloved. Sorrowful and still, My vase of tears."

I couldn't help but to think that, had I been watching any other bloke say this to a girl, I would be gagging at how ridiculously pathetic he was and would probably call him a tosser. But, as much as the snide little voice inside of my head laughed and begged him to stop, I knew better than to say anything aloud.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, before continuing: "And when you turn away My love grows stronger. Night displacing day, I love you for the leagues of irony You place between my pleading and the sky."

He was silent for a moment longer. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest; I knew what it longed for me to do, completely overpowering any doubts I may have had. Oh, damn it all, Rue, I thought to myself before he proceeded once more.

"I crawl across your-"

And it was then that I could no longer take it. I didn't worry about the consequences as I reached up, placed my hands on his cheek and neck and pressed my lips firmly against his. Lips slightly parted, our breaths interlaced. All thoughts and hesitations forgotten, I let my hand wind its way down his neck and pull a fist of his shirt between my fingers. His arm curled around my waist, his hand buried in my hair. He gently pulled back and then kissed me, several times more, before I felt his tongue slip into my mouth.

And there was nothing more. Just the warmth of Oliver and the feeling of floating in a warm paradise. How wonderful I felt, as though I would be able to fly away, or save the world, or do any of those other things that people do when they feel wanted, loved.

Neither of us could be bothered to fret over what would become of this or where this would take us. We were merely content to bask in the shower of passion that washed over us as we continued to kiss.

I couldn't help but sigh as his lips trailed across my cheek and to my neck.

He suddenly stopped, pulling away slightly and looking down at me, a serious expression on his face. "Rue, are we," he started.

I quirked an eyebrow and hummed softly, waiting for him to continue. I was still a bit dazed from the marathon snog.

He cleared his throat. "Are you my girlfriend, then?"

I huffed, wrapping my arms tighter around him, "Of course, you dolt." I paused, thinking about what people might say. "However, would you mind if we don't announce it to everyone right away? I'd rather not have the Spanish Inquisition on my arse until after hols."

He smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling, "Whatever you want, Rue."

"Lovely. Now go back to snogging me, will you?"

Oliver did as he was told, time slipping by us.

Oh, what a splendid and implacable disdain.

That, my dearest readers, is the end of this particular tale, and I do hope it was an EPIClogue. I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks to all who participated in the onslaught of reviews for chapter 20; maybe you could do the same for this one? Anyway, the poem Oliver partially recited was "The nightly heavens are not more beautiful" by Charles Baudelaire. Now, as you know, everything you recognize from the Harry Potter Universe belongs to Jo Rowling; that which you do not belongs to me. I hope you enjoyed this little tale, and I would very much appreciate hearing from you by way of review! Yours always.