The most wonderful time of year, and he was spending it at Hogwarts. Had it been any other year, that thought would have been depressing, but Oliver Wood could not be happier. He got to spend Christmas with the woman he was certain that he loved. And he figured that he should tell her soon. Over the Christmas Holidays. He was determined. He was trying to come up with a strategy. Should he write it to her, or say it? He supposed he ought to say it. He thought that would mean more. But thinking of saying those words aloud to her turned his insides into a knotted mess. What if she was freaked out by him saying it? Was it too soon? What if she didn't ever say it back to him? What if she didn't feel the same way? He needed to sit down just thinking about it. He had to do it though. Otherwise, he thought he might explode. Better he say it when he had a strategy, and planned for as many outcomes as he could.

It was the last day of term, the school would be clearing out soon enough. Oliver lay on his bed, throwing a golf ball up and catching it as it fell, trying to figure out how to tell Aquila that he loved her. Percy was folding his clothes neatly, like the insufferable prat that he was. He had been very awkward since he had come upon Oliver kissing a girl on the way to Hogsmeade. He paused in his packing to stare at Oliver. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Turned away, turned back, opened his mouth again, closed it again. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Just say whatever you're going to say." He was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. There was something about Percy that got on every single one of his nerves.

"That day… In Hogsmeade… I. I came to apologise." Oliver caught the golf ball and sat up.

"Apologise?" he asked, completely astounded.

"I realise now that I had inferred that… perhaps you weren't very intelligent. I just want you to know that I don't really think that. Not at all. I phrased the sentence incorrectly." Oliver smiled a little bit. Were pigs flying right now? Percy Weasley was apologising and essentially saying he was wrong. "I should have said you weren't of a class with her." Percy looked satisfied with himself, like he was being kind. Oliver clenched his hand around the golf ball, seriously considering throwing it at the knob's head.

"That's loads better, Percy. Thanks." Oliver said, sarcastically. He lay back down on his bed and started to throw the golf ball again. Percy cleared his throat.

"Just out of curiosity… Who was that? That day…" Oliver paused throwing the golf ball, stared at his canopy, and thought about throwing the ball at the boy's head again.

"Whatever do you mean, Percy?" He took to throwing and catching again.

"That girl. I just… You never seemed the type to me." Oliver snorted a laugh, and smirked.

"Never the type to what? Kiss a girl?" He remembered that kiss, and felt the shiver down his spine again. Aquila was always making him feel things he thought were impossible.

"Who was she Oliver?" The nosy git. Oliver wanted to see how he liked the taste of this.

"Aquila." he said calmly. The dorm room was deathly quiet, save for the small smack of the golf ball landing into his palm. Then Percy laughed.

"Good one Oliver. You have a nice Christmas. I'll see you after the holidays." Percy beat a hasty exit, still laughing. Oliver smirked. It would dawn on the idiot one day. The working class, Quidditch Keeper team captain, who wasn't brilliant in every class was dating Aquila Virgo Valentine. The most talented witch of her time, heir to the Valentine fortune, a future Duchess (apparently) and the most beautiful girl in the world (in Oliver's opinion). And Percy might actually shit a brick.

The next couple of days were absolute bliss. He went for long walks around the snowy grounds with Aquila, hand in hand, being sure to avoid the Dementors. They had snowball fights, played at Quidditch, made a snow-dragon. As it turned out, Aquila was very talented at shaping snow. Every night they would stay up late in the Common Room alone together in front of the fire, holding each other, talking about absolutely everything, kissing. The snow and the Christmas decorations made for an absolutely magical setting. On the night of Christmas Eve, Aquila and Oliver sat curled up together on the couch in front of the fire, puzzling out something Aquila called a 'crossword'.

"Three letter word for anger." Oliver said aloud.

"Ire." Aquila said immediately. Then she laughed. Oliver frowned, confused.

"What's so funny?" She turned to face him.

"What country am I from, Keeper?" The corner of his mouth quirked. He liked when she called him Keeper. He was a keeper in Quidditch, but hopefully he was a keeper in this relationship.

"Anger Land. I see." He chuckled. "That's quite funny." She laughed along with him.

He pulled her up to sit up on his lap. She squealed a little, but for the most part laughed. He smiled up at her. She had let her hair down. It hung around them like a pair of sable curtains. He ran his fingers through her silky black hair, savouring the feeling. She shivered at his touch, her face suddenly serious. The way she gazed down at him with those big blue eyes. He ran his eyes along the flurry of freckles that spread over her nose, his following the curves of her face. She leaned down, placing a hand on the side of his face, and kissed him, very softly, very carefully. He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her closer to him. When they broke apart she still had that very serious look on her face.

"I love you, Aquila." he whispered, as he gazed up into those sapphire eyes. She kissed him again.

"Oliver…"

"Tell me another day." he said, before she could say anything. He wanted her to say she loved him when she meant it. He didn't want her to feel pressured into reciprocating.

"Oliver…" she whispered again. He shivered at the sound of his name on her lips. She traced kisses along his jawline, across his cheeks, up the length of his nose, across his forehead. He laughed lightly at the sensation. The corners of her mouth quirked up at the sound of his laugh. She explored his face with her eyes, as though she were trying to memorise every detail of his appearance.

Behind them the clock chimed twelve. Aquila's eyes met his.

"Merry Christmas, Oliver. I love you." His breath caught in his throat. They were in love. A great joy swept through him. A warm smile spread across her lips. "I love you." She said again. She kissed him once. "But we'd better get to bed, before we scare the house elves." He gave her one last lingering kiss before she stood up. He walked the short distance to the dorm room doors holding her hand.

"Goodnight." he rasped out. He was rather choked up it seemed.

"Goodnight." she said, coyly. Oliver climbed the stairs and threw himself onto his bed, staring up at his canopy again. She loved him.