Jemima's POV.

I woke with a start to a furious knocking at my door. I looked at the small enchanted clock McGonagall had provided me with and sighed. It read 11pm. I'd been asleep about half an hour, what was so urgent? I wrenched the door open and death stared at whomever had dared to interrupt my slumber. I saw a mess of ginger hair.

"Fred?" I asked, I thought it was Fred.

"George," the Weasley corrected.

"Sorry, I've only been here a day, it'll take me a while to learn the difference." I sighed, rubbing my eyes, "Do you need something? I've had like half an hour and I –"

Fred appeared next to his brother and interrupted, "You've been asleep since last night."

I cocked her head to the side, "Huh?" I walked over to my bedside cabinet, looking for my watch. The twins were right, my watch said Sunday, "How the hell did that happen?"

"Jet lag, or so Oliver thought" Fred said.

Oliver?

"He asked us to check on you."

Why hadn't he come himself?

"We told him it'd be really awkward if you'd died."

Then I remembered.

"Glad you're not though."

He'd fallen on me, then he looked like he was about to – No.

"The whole 'school exchange' thing would be ruined."

He hadn't tried to kiss me.

"We'd probably never get Angelina back. Jem's family might adopt her as payback."

Had he?

"Earth to Jem!" George waved his hand in front of my face.

"Sorry," I lied, "I tuned the two of you out."

"Oh good," came a call from somewhere behind the twins, "You've learnt an early lesson." the voice was Oliver's. He stood and walked towards the three of us, that silly little smirk on his face. He slapped his hands on the twins outer shoulders, making him the one in the middle, "Always phase out while they talk. There's no point in listening."

I blushed slightly, "I'll make a note of that."

The twins began speaking about something else as they walked back to the couch that Oliver had originated from. He made to look at his shoes, but stopped half way down. Shit, I'm in my pyjamas. By pyjamas, I mean my shorts and a sports bra. Oliver's eyes were stuck on my stomach, I moved my arms to hug around myself. Sure, I am an athlete so I'm fit, but what girl is comfortable with an attractive – I mean a man, a normal man – staring at her body?

Oliver finally moved his eyes to look at our feet, blushing almost as much as I was, "I'm going to... change... then I'll be back..." I said slowly, watching Oliver's glance continue to stare at his feet, "I'll be back."

I swiftly closed the door on Oliver and sighed. What the hell was wrong with me? It's not like I've never had a man look at me before. I've had plenty of boys look at me. Wait, not plenty. There was something in Oliver's eyes that intrigued me; I wanted to know him. Not as anything major, just friends. There's nothing wrong with being friends, is there?

I walked over to my chest of drawers and rummaged around. Pulling out my Catulus (my house in Nimirix) Quidditch Team singlet, I checked myself in the mirror and exited what the boys had dubbed my 'box-room'.

By the time I had changed, Fred and George had managed to enchant a piece of paper to fly about the room, shaped like a dragon. It even breathed fire. I must say, I was impressed.

"Nice shirt," Oliver commented as the dragon they were following swooped behind me.

"Thanks," I nodded, "It's my training singlet." I looked down at my purple and orange singlet, "It's my favourite."

Oliver smiled, "I can see why." I blushed. Gahh, could I stop blushing?

Fred and George looked to each other, "Bed time me thinks." they chuckled as they stood up, passed me and felt the need to ruffle my hair.

Oliver and I were alone again. There was a heavy awkward silence in the air. Oliver cleared his throat.

"So..." he said awkwardly, "How did you sleep?"

How did I sleep? Come on Oliver, find something interesting to talk about, I thought. "Very well thank you. The mattress Professor McGonagall conjured is most lovely."

"Well," he said excitedly, "Professor Flitwick invented a charm that makes the mattresses as comfortable as the person lying on it thinks it needs to be."

There was another silence.

"Jem I'm sorry about what happened the other night." Oliver blurted out.

"I don't know what you mean." I lied. I knew what he was talking about, I just didn't want to talk about it.

"Oh," he said surprised. Then he chuckled, "I just meant that, you know, I should have grabbed you instead of falling like an idiot." he added swiftly.

"It's ok," I smiled, "I'm as clumsy as a house elf wearing ice skates, so I know where you're coming from."

Oliver and I sat for what seemed like hours talking about Quidditch, family, friends; anything and everything really. Oliver was a lovely person, very talkative and very likeable. He seemed to be enjoying my company too; laughing with me, touching my arm occasionally.

We both laughed as I sat next to him on the couch. He shifted in his seat momentarily until he spoke, "You're really cool Jem." he said, shifting closer to me on the couch.

I smiled, shifting closer to him too, "Thanks Oliver," I chuckled, "You're quite nifty yourself."

"Nifty?" he laughed, wiping a piece of hair that was in front of my face, "Never been described as nifty before."

We sat again in silence as Oliver looked into my eyes. The golden sparks in his brown eyes were quite lovely, his face warming and comforting. He moved his face closer to mine, just as it became slightly harder to breathe. His lips were close to mine and all I could do was think of them touching.

They were about to when Oliver pulled back, leaving me breathless and confused.

"I have to go Jem," he said with almost a touch of dismay in his voice, "I'm sorry."

He made a hasty exit up the stairs to his dormitory. Did I do something wrong?