"You left your door wide open, couldn't help but walk in,
It's the last place I should be, but I'm dying to see you

You woke up cold this morning and shied away from my touch,
I would never mean to hurt you cause I love you so much
Was it only one night that you ever wanted from me?"
-One Night is Not Enough by Snow Patrol (The first two lines are from Aly, and the rest is from Oliver, thought-wise)

Alright, so this is a lot of thinking that lead up to something happening very fast, but in my defense that's really just how Aly is. Let's not blame the character I created...

I took a deep, shuddering breath as I sat in my blue-covered room, trying to remember everything that had happened exactly in my mind. Really, there wasn't a lot; Oliver kissed me, I shot him down, he kissed me again, and I ran out of his office flapping my arms like a mad man.

And now I'm in my bedroom, looking around at all the trinkets, the memories, the enchanted flag that switches between 'Ravenclaw' and our cawing raven mascot that I got at the one Quidditch game I ever went to, studying everything closely. My eyes danced blurrily across my plentiful bookshelves, adorned with ratty books privileged only to a Head Girl about Hogwart's myth, history, etc.

And then, in that same sickening dance, my eyes landed on that note. That Merlin-be-damned, absolutely horridly rotten note. I hate Oliver for that note, I really, truly do.

I got it not thirty seconds after I made it back to my dorm room, like the owl had chased me all the way up. As I fiddled with my anklet, trying to hush it up, there was a tap on the window, and my heart stopped as various images of Oliver at my window, mouth agape at watching my transformation flew to my mind.

But instead it was Oliver's owl, an owl I'd taken to recognizing, for my own safety. Large and tan with black speckles and large, orangey eyes, its note was the only thing I really cared about. Six words, that was all that he bothered to write.

I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

There were no names, no real explanation, and it left me with this horribly empty feeling. Somehow, I really just wanted for Oliver to tell me that it was a mistake, but it wasn't a lie. I couldn't shake that feeling that this was all just a horrible prank to try and play with my head, like a muggle movie where the boy bets that he can make the girl fall in love with him and then she finds out and everything is ruined.

I should've burned the note by now, for safety. Sure, there were no identifying names or seals, but it was still risky to keep it in my room. What would I do if Tom walked in right now? He enjoys being nosy, and if he even caught sight of the note it would be the end.

The end of what? The end of Oliver and me? The thought brought another inexplicable spring of tears to my eyes, blurring my eyesight exponentially. Expo-freaking-entially. I tried to hold back the sob that eventually follows every crying fit that I have. How suspicious would that look if Tom walked in?

One hand was weaving through my hair and tugging mercilessly, the other covering my mouth desperately, hoping for some strange reprieve in this completely illogical emotional fit. God, how bad can I PMS in one month?

For a second, I considered owling Siren for much needed emotional support, but thought better of it almost immediately. Not only would she 'off-handedly mention' that her Romeo would never do this to her, but there's also the tiny part where I can't tell anyone about this, ever, in my life.

I stood and stumbled over to the note on my desk, one hand steadying myself as I gazed down at the crinkled-then-re-smoothed parchment, Oliver's continuously pompous handwriting glaring back up at me.

Hold on, back this up, I thought, every bodily function freezing on cue as I carefully repeated the thought in my mind, Am I calling him Oliver, now? That's so… awkward sounding. Why isn't he Wood anymore? What's happened to me?

I know I still want to kiss him, almost desperately, but to be on a first name basis with him? That is a completely different level of mental commitment that I'm not accustomed to or equipped for. And it's stopping immediately.

I mean, kissing could be a completely hormonal thing - a physical reaction that I can't necessarily control in my teenage years. As Oliver… Wood, so elegantly put it, it's really more of a craving, no more annoying 

than craving chocolate or… drugs. But I'm a Ravenclaw - my ultimate weapon, what I can control and utilize the most, is my mind, my thinking, my nearly flawless logic.

So how could I possibly let myself slip up as to thinking of Oliver as Wood? I mean Wood as Oliver! Oh God, this is horrible. A kiss, a kiss is nothing! But this, this is wrong. He's my professor. Yeah, I'm not the most respectful student, and I don't really do tradition or formalities, but still, completely other level!

A level that's nothing more than an adventure I'm not embarking on. No, no, not happening, at all. Even a little. No first step, no jumping off the cliff. Because that's what me and Wood would be - jumping off a cliff into certain death, and expulsion! After all the freaking work I put into graduating, I'm not going to get expelled! I refuse!

Rebelliously, my chest concaved and I remembered the feeling of Oliver, his body pushed against mine, his lips dancing across my collarbone as I tried to summon the strength to push him away, confident that it was the right thing to do.

And it was right! I mean, expulsion! EXPULSION! Dating a teacher is dangerous territory, even if it wasn't against the rules; it's just plain dangerous. And that kind of danger, I'm just not brave enough to face. For heaven's sake, who does Oliver think I am? A Gryffindor?

I dully noted that Oliver had been a Gryffindor. He was brave enough to try and do this; to sneak around behind everyone else's back, to risk everything he had, to risk his future, humiliation, his reputation, everything I thought would always be more important.

And with a sick, sharp intake of breath and the return of blurred-vision, what I thought actually, well, registered. Everything I thought would always be more important to Wood than a girl; his reputation, his appeal, the very way people view him… he's willing to risk that all for me. He's not that selfish, macho jerk head who I so quickly snubbed at the beginning of the year. He's… everything Ginny said, and yet somehow much more attractive.

The realization was… crushing, in nearly every respect. My one hand on the back of my chair turned into two, just to keep myself from collapsing. Suddenly, it was like Wood was everywhere; he was slowly taking over my brain and lodging himself into my being, his distinctive scent of broom polish, straw, and woodsy-soap nearly suffocating me.

He's willing to risk it all for me. My throat dried up at the almost sickening thought. Scratch that, it dried up at the quite actually sickening thought. I barely made out my knuckles whiten with tension as my knees continued to turn to mush, more thoughts crowding into my mind, Oliver's lips still dancing across my collarbone.

No, not Oliver, Wood's lips dancing across my collarbone. Wait, no, there will be no dancing. There was no dancing. I'm not even thinking about this anymore! It's… it's done. I'm burning the note right now.

But, I mean, how does he do it, I groaned desperately, walking back to my bed and falling onto it. What gives him the right to be this much of a pain in my ass? To wedge himself this far into my consciousness? No, wait, I'm not thinking about it! It's not… anything! He's disgusting, really.

With a decisive flick of my wrist, "Incendio." With a small leap into the air, the note crinkled and burned, the smell of flaming parchment filling my nostrils and reminding me how disgusting the stench is. Disgusting like Wood. Just remember that.

I've come to a very definitive decision. All I have to do is make it to the end of the year, and then I'm safe. I can run away forever; away from Siren and her damn Phantom of the Hogwarts, and from the Penny-Susan-Willow drama, and Brendon's creepy stares, and most importantly away from Wood. They have dragons in America, I'm sure. No one will ever find me.

The sound of my Mary Janes clapping against the stone floor towards the Great Hall reminded me of where I was, and that I was talking to Siren about, whom else, Phantom of the Hogwarts, as I've taken to calling him. Why? Because he magically disappears whenever I come around.

"And then he said the most interesting thing," Siren continued, chewing at her lip, "Said it was by that William Blake guy that you love."

My ears perked - my mother had left me and Jay a few things before she mysteriously left, and among my 'gifts' was a book of William Blake poetry. I'd been able to turn a few people onto his writings, but my friends just think he's boring. "Oh really, what did he say?"

I honestly didn't care - I was concentrating on food. That's how I've started to get through the days, I focus on the small things, getting through each obstacle and then immediately concentrating on the next one. Like when I'm in Potions, all I can do is concentrate on getting to Transfiguration, and when I'm in Transfiguration all I can think about is making it to lunch. After lunch I'll think about getting through the next class, and so on.

"He told me that, 'Love seeketh not itself to please, nor for itself hath any care, but for another gives its ease, and builds a Heaven in Hell's despair.' Isn't that just really deep?" At that same moment, I heard the Great Hall's door open again behind me, and was immediately overtaken by Wood's scent.

Love builds a Heaven in Hell's despair, I thought to myself sardonically as he, wordlessly, walked passed me and sat between Hagrid and Flitwick. That's what Wood and I have been these past few days - cold silence. Nothing like the miniature Heaven Wood helped me build in my personal, social Hell.

With a shock in my stomach, I remembered that that was something people who were in love did, according to William Blake, and pushed the thought from my mind. Still, all through the meal, I couldn't help but sneak quite a few glances at Wood - glances that no one noticed, I thought, until Wood suddenly stood and hurried out of the Great Hall, shooting me a glare on the way out.

Oh, Merlin, did he see? I stood at the bench, like I subconsciously wanted to go after him, or something. I mean, I kind of miss talking to him, and yeah we can't date or snog or whatever he wants, but can't we still be friends? Heaven in Hell's despair.

I groaned as I sat back down, earning me a couple of odd stares from my tablemates. I know Wood likes me, that was established a long time ago! That doesn't mean that I necessarily like him, though. I just… like talking to him. Possibly more than I've liked talking to my friends these past few days.

And that was when suddenly everything made horrible sense in my mind - I had to go after Wo… Oliver. I just… I couldn't let it all end like this. Not after the precarious balance we'd found before. I had to stand up and run after him, hoping that he was going to whichever office I chose to run to.

Before I knew it, there I was, standing in the middle of the hallway in front of Wood's office door, breathing slightly off kilter and just as quickly regretting the decision as I had been to make it in the first place. What if he needs some time to cool down? The last thing I want is to be stuck in a room with a man I shot down who may or may not be holding a serious grudge. Experience hath shown that this is a bad path.

At the same time, it killed me a little to come all this way, skipping lunch almost completely, just to turn back like a dog with my tail between my legs. Alright, I'll go about this the old-fashioned way; if he's in there and the door is unlocked, I'll talk to him; if he isn't there or the door is locked, I won't bother. Sound logic, good for me.

Taking a deep breath, I flinched as I tried the knob, which was open. But maybe he's not in there, I thought, slightly desperate. But when I opened my eyes, I was greeted with a warm fire and Wood, his chair pulled out from behind his desk so he could stare into said warm fire.

With a small glance, he looked over his shoulder at me, "Darling? What are you doing here?"

"I. uh, you looked upset in the Great Hall," I tried, slowly shutting the door behind me and fighting what small bit of common sense I can claim as my own, "I thought maybe you'd want to talk."

Still looking over his shoulder at me, and looking very tired, Wood's shoulders rose in an amused shrug, "You want to talk to me about my problems?"

"Well, yeah," I said uncertainly, grabbing the only other chair and pulling it up beside him, "I mean, you helped me all last week, and, well, it seeme-"

"Talking to you won't help me, Darling," Wood responded, still sounding tired but amused at the fact that I was trying nonetheless.

"Well, why not," I questioned, hoping that that would get him talking. How did I do this on the camping trip?

"Because you're what's so upsetting, Darling," Wood muttered, using his right hand to massage his temple.

"Wh-"

"It's nothing, Darling. I just… I've never been actually turned down before. Hell, I never even had to pursue a girl before you, really. Girlfriends just kind of… fell into my lap."

I snorted, "Now there's a way to live."

Wood ignored the comment, "And I, well, I was hoping that you and I could somehow work out, and we can't. I know that, and I've just got to… deal with it."

"Bu-"

My voice died in my throat, revelations pouring into my mind, all surrounding around the words, Heaven in Hell's despair. I want to build a Heaven in Hell's despair for Oliver! Merlin's frickin' beard, I want to build a Heaven in Hell's despair!

The thought was… invigorating, and I jumped to my feet, like it would give me the courage to say what was already tumbling out of my mouth, "Oliver, kiss me!"

God I hope no one heard that... well, except Oliver. Sighing, he looked up at me, "What?"

I could almost laugh at the irony, but at the same time I became acutely aware of fearing rejection. He said he knew it couldn't work, but maybe… "Kiss me!"

Wood scoffed, "Don't play with me, Darling, it doesn't suit you."

Oh, for heaven's sake, I leaned down, startlingly confident as I pressed my lips against Oliver's, his own mouth immediately responding with a few very appropriate reactions.