You guys don't even want to know about the passed few weeks I've been having. It's all soap-opera dramatic in addition to a lot of physical pain. Sorry this is so late.

I was... pissed off. In that exponential kind of way that always seemed to inhibit my judgement and was often related to men. I just... it was driving me a little crazy, not knowing what Wood said in the Pitch. See, in usual-Wood manner, he'd have owled me saying it was all a mistake, or clarifying for my sanity's sake cause he knows me well enough to realize I'd be going crazy to trying to figure it out.

And guess what? One whole day and nothing. And I'm not going through one day of school not knowing what I heard, and whether or not my breaking up with Ben was in total vain. If it was in total vain, I might kill that boy.

Currently, I was stomping up the stairs from the Great Hall towards Wood's office, which I'm assuming he was headed to when he sauntered by out of the damned Great Hall five minutes ago without even looking at me. And that's just... it's not right.

Have you guys ever gotten that feeling that something is very, very wrong? Like – you're going to fall into a steep dive and you can just tell that a bird is going to run into you from the backside, but you know you can't do anything to stop it, so you just brace yourself and wait for the impact.

Alright, so maybe that example was a little me-specific, but you all get my meaning. Something bad is going to happen, and I can't stop it, but I'm going to work desperately to stop it. I'm fighting fate with a vengence; it's screwed me over too many times.

Ironically enough, it never occurred to me that I should stop and think about what I was doing – to me, this was all very logical. I am naturally rebellious and I fight against what I don't like; I think something is going to happen that I don't like, and I therefore fight it. What's illogical about anything I just said, hmm? Challenge me – I dare you.

My footsteps were lonely as they marched up the stairs to Wood's office, the sixth floor. I groaned as the stairs started to shift under me, ultimately slowly my process, like the cosmos wants me to stop and think about what I'm doing, or something. But I won't – thinking may be my strong poing, but Merlin damn it all I've got a mission. Why would I want to question that?

Wood's door came up on me fast once I actually found my way through the maze of stairs; and it was in that final second, as I stood in front of his door with one fist raised precariously that I considered what I was doing – barging headlong into Wood's office without any sense of what I want to come of this, whether or not I want is actually feasible, and most importantly what Wood's reaction would be. In that one cursed moment, I started to think.

Unless what I want is for him to think I'm a nutter, than I'm going about this all the wrong way. Do I want to seem coy? What do I even want after all this? Do I want to get back with Wood? Or do I want him to stay away from me, so I can get over him in peace? I mean, it hurt so much when he broke up with me, do I want to risk it again? Do I want to tell him...

Well, that's just a no. I can't say that yet. It's... crazy. I'm not even sure about it yet, not really. I haven't thought anything through. Maybe I should just come back tomor-

"Darling?" Well, that plan's gone down the shitter. Here I am, caught with one hand raised in a position that screams, 'I'm going to knock!'

"Wood?" The name escaped my lips, even if the only plan I could come up with was to run very, very, very fast in the opposite direction. Of coures, that direction would take me into a wall, but that is so against my case I'm ignoring it. "What... what are you doing here? You left the Great Hall, like, ten minutes ago." Damn it, Darling! Don't admit you noticed! You should never notice!

"I, uh, had to run down to grab something from the Pitch," Wood replied uncertainly, holding up a few folders as proof, "What are... you doing?"

"Polishing doors," was the first thing that came out of my mouth. I winced at the sound of it – like it wasn't obvious enough that I was lying; I mine as well run my hands through my hair and shift from foot to foot like I have to pee. "Unknown Head Girl duty – we keep the castle clean."

Wood's eyebrow arched at me, "You were cleaning my door?"

I nodded, "Yeah. I got assigned sixth floor this week. Crazy coincidence that you caught me, huh?" I don't know why I even bother. Maybe I can shove my head into the floor like an ostrich.

Wood's eyebrow arched impossibly higher for a second before it wedged itself back into place atop his brow, almost into a dark scowl. I flinched, and I knew he knew I was lying. His voice was strained when he finally managed to speak, and I'd spent the entire time pretending I was still allowed to fall into his eyes.

"Do you... want to come in?" Oh God. I made a mistake – this is the time that I'm supposed to run away into a wall. My bad.

"Uh, sure."

GOD DAMN IT!

Wood smiled uncertainly for a second, so that it just flickered on his face, before he stepped uncomfortably in front of me, quickly unlocking the door and leaving it open. I wish I could say it specifically reminded me of something romantic, but the truth is it didn't really. Sure, it was almost in this same exact way that we'd gotten together once before, but the liklihood of it happening again made the memory painful, and so I blocked it.

Feeling comfortable in his office, a result of much too much time spent in here in... previous activites... and my hands wrapped themselves quickly into my hair. I wrinkled my nose as my fingernails dug into my scalp, as if to say they too were finally home and would never leave, but I ignored the slight pain.

I gulped as Wood sat behind his desk, like I was supposed to start the conversation. I still don't know what I want! I'm on a mission with no objective, which I'm pretty sure is a contractiction. If I keep this up, my head is going to hurt.

"So," I started, trying to stall and yet not seem awkward. I, of course, forgot the cardinal rule that saying 'so' and then being quiet automatically makes things awkward. "How's... your head?"

Oh, that could be a good cover up. Good job, brain. "Darling, if you've come up here to apologize, a note would have sufficed." That was...

"That was unnecessary, Wood," I narrowed my eyes at him, "I guess I'll just go back to the room. I'll cle-"

"Aly, hold on," Wood, Oliver, flinched as he stood up, his hand reaching towards me slightly, "Just... hold on. I have some things I want to... clear up."

I froze, halfway through turning towards the door and grateful for the fact that he'd cut me off – if I'd actually said 'clean your door later,' which is what I was planning on saying, I might have to perform some serious self-harm on my brain.

Wood's brow furrowed as he almost glared at me, and I shrunk away from him as if I'd done something wrong, even though I'm pretty sure I hadn't. Except for, you know, lying to him. But it's not like I made it some complex riddle that could get anyone in trouble or was even that hard to figure out – I said I was cleaning doors, for Merlin's sake.

I sighed, making the same kind of deicion that got me here in the first place, a bad one. I dove straight into the heart of what I thought the matter was, "Look, Wood, I get it, this is awkward, you're moving on. I'm sorry I stopped by, it was stupid, I just wanted to know how it was so... easy for you."

"Aly," Oliver's eyebrow quirked a little, his eyes narrowing in what wasn't anger, to my comfort, "You... I didn't want to, Aly."

"Oh yeah," I challenged, my inner-rage-demon rearing it's head and forcing me to turn and confront him, "Then why? Did someone find out about us?"

"No," Oliver admitted, his head falling into his chest as he stood awkwardly behind the desk, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "I... I can't tell you why."

I scoffed, something in me unnaturally sure that he wasn't being honest, "Stop lying, Wood."

"Can't you tell," Oliver questioned, his eyes rising quickly to lock with mine as his weight evened out on the balls of his feet, "Do you... really not see it?"

I could feel the anger bubbling, but the curiosity beat my brain to a response, "Not see what?" The anger quickly followed, and I crossed one arm over my chest while the other ran through my hair, "Wood." Wow I make myself sad.

"That this isn't easy, Aly; not for me, and apparently not for you." A blush rose to my cheeks, but I just shook my head again.

"Really, Wood, I get i-"

"Aly, stop it," Oliver's voice was commanding, but I still couldn't believe him.

I mean, he's a Quidditch hotshot; he's the one who broke up with me, for Merlin's bloody sake. And besides, he didn't love me. He couldn't love me and then break up with me. He had no idea what I was going through, what I am going through, and I don't appreciate his attempt at proving he does.

"Aly, come on, you can't really believe that after however many months of letting you drive me crazy that it wouldn't hurt to not have you there anymore." Well, he's still great at shoving his foot into his mouth. "I still remember the first time I saw you."

The words stung – he'd tried to tell me about this when we'd originally gotten together, just after Thanksgiving. We'd have been together about two months now if he hadn't been, well, if we'd worked out.

Oliver smiled briefly, "You were eating ice cream in Diagon Alley with some bloke and you were aboslotely filthy from the chocolate and I stood there and watched you laughing for a full ten minutes and all I could really think about was your smile."

My glare faltered, and my hand continued to run through my hair, and I wasn't sure whether or not I was flattered or I thought it was a lie. I remembered what he was talking about – the day I'd gone to be fitted for my Head Girl's robe. The boy was Jay, and I'd bet him about some owl we saw in a shop and lost so I had to buy the ice cream. But does it really prove anything?

My anger acted for me, bringing both arms to cross my chest instead of just the one, "Oliver, if you're going to lie to me, I'm just going to leave." To accentuate my point, I turned on my heel and started defiantly for the door. Lord knows what will happen once I get there, but I'm hoping a dragon will come and kill him somehow or other.

"Al-" My name was cut short by the stomping of Oliver's feet hitting the ground with amazing speed. I was almost tempted to turn, but before I even had my hand on the doorknob I'd been spun to face Wood.

And in some sick life circle, I felt my back crash into the door. Oliver breathed heavily over me, as if he'd run a mile to get to this point as opposed to jumping his desk. Behind his back, I could just barely make out papers flitting to the ground and a few quills which he'd knocked off.

"How come you don't get it," Oliver questioned, his voice breathy and making my stomach squirm. His arms were locked on either side of my head, but he somehow still managed to have his feet all of a few inches from mine. "I only did it for you, Aly. I'm not a good person."

"Oh, right, whatever, Wood," I spat back, gulping at the distance. Is it really necessary to be this close to me? "Let me leave." Freaking prat.

And at that moment, my heart stopped because Oliver, Oliver, shook his head. He refused to look me in the eye, but his voice was almost pained, "I... I don't think I can. Not until you understand. I miss you, Aly."

And in that moment, when Oliver looked up at me with those deep, clear brown eyes, I really did understand. Whether or not he loved me didn't mean he didn't miss me, that this didn't hurt him. And it does hurt him, really, truly.

But that's stupid, I reasoned, We both want this to happen, so what's keeping us apart? More than ever, I understood why Oliver had wanted this so badly in the first place; I didn't care about whatever it was he thought made him too bad a person for me, because I knew it didn't matter. It didn't matter that this would get me kicked out of school, or that it would probably end in heartache. Because Merlin damn it, damn it all, I want this.

As if Oliver could read my mind, he suddenly leaned in closer to me, resting his forehead against mine. Slowly, almost painfully, he reached his lips forward, barely brushing them against mine.

"It's just so hard, Aly. I wish I could tell you h-"

"Shut up, Oliver," I finally managed, feeling like my heart would either explode or break. "Just let me go or take me back."

For a second, my heart actually broke. Oliver pulled his one arm uncertainly from the door, pulling his face away. His jaw dropped, his breathing all but audible as his eyes attempted to register what I said. But I ignored that look of semi-shock, figuring he'd turned me away.

And so, feeling like a love-sick fool, I turned away from him. It was when his arm caught me roughly around the waist and pushed me back into the door that I felt my heart piece itself back together just in time for it to explode when Oliver kissed me. It felt like... home. Not home exactly, but like it was just where I supposed to be at that moment. You know?