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Chapter 20

Christmas day — what a joyous occasion! At least that is what I tried to convince myself. The truth was I could barely drag myself out of bed. More accurately — I couldn't drag myself out of bed at all, Bianca had to forcefully pull me at my ankles. Why the least athletic out of all of us took this task upon herself was a query beyond my expertise. Props to her though, she did a hell of a good job and only disregarded me be once I was lying, hair spread out in all directions, on the cold and rigid floor. It felt oddly good being taken care of like that, even if it was in a rather callous manner. I spared a moment imagining what it would be like if I had someone to do that for me every day, but that thought lead me into alleys I dared not enter, for they were dark and contained people I should not be imagining doing anything.

"I think she might be imagining Oliver again." PJ said then, they had all gathered in a circle around me, like they were examining a patient.

"SSHHHH!" I uttered as sternly as I could. "Oliv– That person does not exist." I looked at each and every one of them individually, "The person I was imagining–" I shook my head as if to reset myself, "The person you suggested I was imagining, does as of now not exist anymore. You will refer to him as not at all, and we will all do our very best to avoid his very stupid face until further notice." I concluded.

They all gave their own versions of sighs and eye rolls, etcetera, and Bianca pulled me upward so that we could, minutes later, make our way down to breakfast.

"Awfully quiet in here." PJ said.

She was right, the common room was always quiet on Christmas day. Most people were up early and excited about the day to come, in particular, the massive feast that was breakfast, lunch and dinner.

We could hear the wind breaking against the rattling windows, looking out, we saw that today was yet another dull and windy, snowless day. The weather wouldn't be any different despite the fact that it was Christmas. It was almost as if the weather didn't care. I sure didn't, I liked all days as long as they weren't hot. Hot days are awful to play Quidditch in, hot and sticky with thick air on top. I wanted brisk and cool weather. I wanted to be woken up by the air biting my cheeks, and today was a perfect day for that.

"Anyone up for a game of Quidditch later?" I asked enthusiastically.

"Sure." They chimed.

"But first breakfast!" PJ said, and tore me away from the window. I'd been the last one standing, entranced by the beautiful grass.

People had been tearing at me all morning and I wondered if I was perhaps feeling somewhat resistant to seeing other students today, in particular one specific student.

"She's thinking about Oliver again." Said Bianca as she was opening the circular shaped door to the inevitable unknown that was awaiting outside.

"Oliver doesn't exist." PJ reminded Bianca.

"Oliver!" I was shocked to see him standing just on the other side of the door, acting as the perfect actualization of my unknown outside the door.

Wright made a show of looking but not seeing anything, "No, I don't see anything." She joked and I shot her an unimpressed glance to say that the moment of further notice had arrived and she didn't still have to pretend that Oliver didn't exist as that might come off as a little rude considering how he was standing right outside our door. My telepathy skills were a bit rusty but I tried my best to communicate all of this to her with my masterful glance.

At a loss for what to say, combined with my friends' curious expressions as to what was going to happen next in this little show that was Willow and Oliver I haphazardly asked, "Did Andrea like her present?" To get him to at least say something and not just stand there, looking unsure and little bit scared.

But activity was the antithesis of what actually happened, and only after a long moment of silence while Oliver was choosing his words and my friends kept staring and I kept hoping, hoping that Oliver was carrying some kind of news that would benefit me in some way, did he actually say something,

"To say that she didn't would be a vast understatement." Oliver finally said and I really didn't want to smile, I really wanted to remain with that questioning expression I had been wearing, instead of seeming to somehow benefit out of this seemingly sticky situation both Andrea and Oliver were in (judging by the sound of Oliver's tone of voice combined with sub textual hints one could piece together from his wording, simply by being a human being). I really didn't want to do all this at all, but I somehow couldn't help a small tug at the side of my lips. It was minor though, and one could still pray he hadn't noticed or alternatively peg it down to being a result of his funny way to put it, some kind of dark comedy.

I wasn't answering Oliver and he sort of just remained outside the entrance in some kind of in-between state of half interacting with the group, and half being on the other side of the wall that was separating us.

"Do you want to come in?" I finally asked and Oliver looked around at my friends as if first wanting to know if they were staying.

"I don't think you have much of a choice in that, Will." Wright once again inappropriately joked, "He has our password, remember?"

"If that's what you like to call it." Oliver surprisingly threw back and I couldn't help a full spread smile forming on my lips while also at the same time be kind-of-definitely-supposedly very attracted to him suddenly. I did something risky and pulled Oliver through the door by the wrist. To my luck, Oliver did not resist and gladly followed my pulls.

"Can you guys please leave?" I told my friends, and without a second thought they said their goodbyes and left to finally go down for breakfast, leaving me as the last person who still hadn't left our common room that morning, not that I was complaining.

I dragged Oliver along to a couch and put him on one end of it, and myself on the other.

"Comfy." He said awkwardly.

"Your feeble compliments are an insult to that couch." I said and leaned back on the armrest, awaiting Oliver's explanation as to what was going on and why he was knocking (without the actual knock) on my door this early in the morning.

"She said she thought it might be coming to this." Oliver blurted out.

"Andrea?" I asked before I'd had a chance to feign some kind of self-salvaging ignorance and I regretted it immediately.

Oliver nodded.

"Coming to what exactly?" I questioned further with a possibly perpetual hint of annoyance directed at Oliver for the sake of concealing my true feelings, as per usual.

Oliver's body was tense as he said it, "A break up." He looked at me with that same freight he had worn by the door earlier and I realised I should probably go easy on him today, even if that meant I couldn't salvage myself and my true feelings quite as easily.

I shifted in my seat, "How come she reckoned that?"

Shift

Shift

"Well…" This time Oliver was the one to shift and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words as he kept shifting on that dirty-yellow couch. Multiple times he looked as if he was going to begin saying something, only to falter. "It was about the perfume I bought her."

That quickened my pulse immediately.

"I never noticed it, but she seemed to have..." He continued.

My pulse was raging and my palms were sweaty. I cursed how small of a couch this was and how close Oliver felt despite how he was sitting on the other end. He looked deeply into my eyes as he said the next part,

"It's the same one you have. The same one you always wear."

I quite visibly gulped and in a moment of weakness I let my eyes drift to his lips only for a second. It's quite amazing how humans can detect such small signals as that. Even though my signal hadn't been intentional, and if I could take it back I probably would have in that moment. But Oliver had caught it along with some newfound confidence in the process. He did what I would have never dared to do, he moved even closer. We had been, what I deemed to be close, just moments before this, but this was 'unacceptably' close, if you will. Although for some reason I wanted him closer.

"That doesn't have to mean anything." I whispered, as if trying to assure him for his sake, that I didn't take this as anything that meant anything, while inside desperately wanting it to mean something.

Oliver smiled self-consciously, a smile I could see very clearly as I was currently located under a painfully close proximity to that very smile. "What if I told you that it does mean something?" And with just one finger, he moved my hair and tucked it behind my ear.

How did he suddenly become this confident? Was there something about my exterior that told him that I was into it? I had just cast the thought when I realised that I was in fact currently still looking at his lips, mouth slightly ajar. I moved my eyes upwards in haste, but too late, Oliver seemed more than amused at my hasteful action.

"And… there might have been other things as well… that meant things…" His smile widened when he saw my eyes go microscopically wider.

Oliver pulled his arm up to rest on the armrest and determinately moved himself closer. It was the determination of a child after some candy, and I felt flattered that I was what he wanted to move closer to. His smile was now almost touching my would-be smile, had I not been incapable of such endeavours right then. I could feel his soft breath against my skin but I refused to meet his gaze, because I knew it was fixated on mine.

I wanted to know what the other things were that meant things, but I figured that I probably, honestly, wanted to kiss him more, so I did that instead.

My eyes turned to his slowly and then down to his lips. I placed my lips on his briefly and then retreated. How did we do this the last time? Oliver smiled and in return closed in on me, pressing his lips against mine for a brief second kiss. We stared at each other. Smiling. He put his nose on mine and nuzzled against me, getting a soft giggle out of me. His nose felt cold against mine. My forehead was against his. We stayed like that.

"Willow." Oliver proudly said. It was a statement, not followed by anything.

I snorted, "Remember when you would refuse to call me that?" I looked at Oliver's hand on the armrest beside me, he was picking mindlessly at a thread sticking out of the couch. "And when I used to care so much…" I pondered.

He kept picking at the thread and we were now both staring transfixed as he unthreaded the couch. "I realise now that it was probably just a way for me to keep you at an arm's length. You were something interesting, and scary," he gave me a look, "you still are."

I didn't laugh, I just looked at him intently, Oliver opening up was too sacred of a thing and I felt like any sudden movements might discourage him.

"You drove me crazy and I didn't want you near me, but I still found myself inventing reasons to be just that — near you." He continued shyly. "And then when I actually realised that I want the opposite of arm's length, I got to know you. I realised that we were beyond the surname level, and I wanted to be even further beyond it, have wanted for quite some time now." Oliver looked at me cautiously, as if thinking he might have said too much. He considered his damage for one or two more seconds, before taking the last final leap, and in a mere whisper he said,

"I've never felt this passionately about anything other than Quidditch."

Something flew over me then as I took in Oliver's sheepish demeanour and I hugged him tightly. The hug acted as a way for me to reveal my feelings too in the safety behind his back, "Me neither." I said.

"I guess I never expected I'd like someone in the same way as I like Quidditch…" He said.

Putting a hand on his shoulder I said confidently, "Oliver, I think you like me in a completely different way than you like Quidditch. I sure hope so."

He laughed at that, "So what way do you think I like you?" He said through an adorable grin.

I grinned back and playfully diverted the question with a, "How about breakfast, huh?"

There was a moment of flirtatious tension while we grinned at each other on that couch, Oliver slowly leaned forward but only just managed to stroke my nose with his before I leaned back. I stood up; legs sore from sitting in the same position for a while and walked backwards toward the exit as Oliver gave me a dissatisfied stare. But with smile still in hold he got up and we finally departed for the Great Hall for some well deserved breakfast, hands brushing against each other every once in a while.

The Great Hall was darkened by the December morning which was, apart from on Christmas, otherwise grim in its nature. The hall was lit up by candles, although fewer than usual, considering the small amount of students who were now instead gathered around one single long table, with all the teachers joined.

I spotted my Hufflepuff friends sitting around the exorbitantly decorated table, the scene looked like a painting, but it was one of those paintings where the more you look at it, the more you see. I soon also spotted Graham sitting next to Wright, and not long after that I saw that his friends were joined as well. Oliver sat down next to his Gryffindor teammates, who were also joined, and currently making the most noise about some potato mash. I sat down across from Oliver, receiving incessant looks from Bianca PJ and Wright, who were dying to know what had happened after they had left.

"Would you like some of the potato mash?" Came a voice from next to me. It was Quentin, who was politely handing me the bowl and I exchanged a look with Graham who looked as clueless as I to where this sudden politeness had come from.

"Where's Andrea?" Angelina asked Oliver, whose features turned distressed and he glanced down the table to where Andrea was conversing with her friends. I took a moment to wonder if she had seen the two of us enter the hall together, but Andrea was currently looking like she was doing all right, as I watched her brightly articulate something to her friends.

"She's… doing her own thing." Oliver looked down as he was slowly placing some carrots on his plate.

"Oh, okay." Angelina said. The whole table seemed to understand the implications of this and everyone got quiet.

"That's too bad." Said Bianca softly.

"Mhmm…" Oliver agreed. He placed a single piece of carrot in his mouth and chewed silently. I couldn't help but smile when I thought of how silently he was chewing.

"Willow doesn't seem to mind." Said Wright, and I made a mental note to slip Draught of Living Death into her drink later that night.

Everyone turned to me and I had to tuck away my smile. "I actually wasn't smiling at that." I put my hands in my lap sheepishly.

"What were you smiling at then?" Said Graham, who was now smiling himself.

"I was just thinking…" I panicked when I realised I had no excuse at hand and Oliver was staring at me with that same distressed expression from before. "…That I really need the bathroom." Was all I could think to say and I reluctantly –although at the same time glad I had an excuse to leave this mess– stood up to leave.

Body tense I stood up and left, I walked with purpose, not sure where I was going really. I heard footsteps behind me but ignored them. Instead I pulled up the heavy door and entered the cold and empty hallway. I stopped for a second, hearing the person behind me struggling with the door as well, but I didn't stop to wait for them, I walked on with purpose, figuring I'd just escape into a deserted classroom.

On my left a door soon emerged to a classroom I hadn't used since my first or second year at Hogwarts. I slipped inside swiftly and placed myself on top of a desk, readily awaiting my stalker.

To no surprise, Oliver soon curiously appeared behind the wooden door.

"Hello stalker." I said humorously.

Ignoring my remark he started, "That was bad." And threw a thumb behind him, vaguely in the direction of the Great Hall.

"It was pretty bad yes." I agreed, trying my best to look at the situation with a sense of humour.

Once Oliver had caught up to the desk I was sitting on, he hesitantly placed himself in front of me and after hesitating some more, he managed to take my hands in his and look me in the eyes.

"Was I supposed to have come here?" He asked. It was evident we were both not entirely sure where we had each other still, and not entirely comfortable yet in this new territory of our relationship.

I just smiled at him. He smiled back. He took one step closer to me; I smiled. He leaned in closer and I was smiling.

"I don't know how to go back out there." I said.

"It'll be alright, you haven't done anything wrong." He assured me.

I looked away, "We're going to hurt Andrea."

"First of all," Oliver tried and succeeded to regain eye contact with me, "I was the one who got into a relationship when I was having feelings for someone entirely different." I had to nod in agreement, looking at it rationally this was mostly Oliver's mess and I shouldn't beat myself up too much about it. "Second of all, Andrea already knows what's going on, it's the reason she broke up with me." He was still holding my hands in his. It had begun to feel natural as time went on. "She'll be alright I think." He said softly and he seemed assured of this. He was the one who knew her best and so I decided to trust him.

"Well in that case…" We began to smile sweetly at each other once again and this very flirtatious air spread throughout the classroom.

I jumped down from the table and it was my turn to grab his hands and switch positions with him so that he was now the one leaned against the table. I leaned in close and studied his lips, my eyes moved up toward his eyes. His eyes were on my lips and only a second too late did he snap out of his trance and meet my eyes.

"Good morning." I joked, fully aware of the effect I was having on him. I was wearing the perfume he loved, the one I always wore. He was looking at me with that longing, yet uncertain look. The, 'am I allowed to kiss her?' — Look of uncertainty.

"Oliver." I said, once again having to take his gaze away from my lips.

"Yes." He mumbled.

"Am I allowed to kiss you?" I asked, wondering if he was even listening, and then he took control suddenly.

His chest met mine. His eyes moved to look intently into mine.

Eyes to lips and then finally lips to lips.

Oliver took a sharp intake of breath through his nose at the impact of the action. The kiss started out in a self-conscious way, our bodies motionless and the only bit moving being the mouth area. Finally, he moved a hand up to my arm. After some time when we had both stopped thinking so much about ourselves and more of how good it felt I realised he had some time along the ride pulled me closer and that his hand was on my neck and that he was supposedly rubbing it.

It was that sort of selfish snogging that says: I need you intensely yet I hardly recognize that you're there. I simply need you in that barbarically physical way. I need a service that only you can provide me with and it's urgent.

After a long snog-fest that accidentally lasted way longer than a toilet visit ever could, we made our way back to the Great Hall, taking a moment right outside the entrance to shake ourselves into our normal selves that supposedly would not have been in a deserted room making out.

But as we both entered the hall I realised that it was all too see-through. We moved away from each other and walked along the opposite sides of the table as we made our way down the table to where our friends were sitting. We exchanged glances that I only subsequently realised were way too flirtatious for our own good. And too right, much to my dismay our friends are sat giggling once we reached them, and I knew it was no use. Bianca took the freedom to flatten Oliver's hair out once he'd sat down, as if to further put the point across that it was noticeable what we had been doing. It bothered me slightly more than it should have, as his dishevelled hair had been making my insides go wild.

"We told you that you weren't friends." Wright said in a low voice that despite it being low, everyone heard.

"You also said Graham and I weren't." I fired back a little harsher than what was appropriate and a wave with my hand in Graham's direction.

This notion did not falter Bianca's glee, "Either way, you just lost a bet." Bianca she said proudly and I gave a big sigh.

Christmas day — what a joyous occasion!

The End

13 November 2018

Dear reader,

I have been working on this story since the fall of 2015, three years. It is the biggest writing project I have ever done, and the one I'm most proud of. I set the goal for myself of writing a story that was at least 60k words, as those tend to be the stories I most enjoy reading. I wanted to write at least 20 chapters, and I wanted each chapter to be around 3k words. I was noticing that the stories I wrote came out short and I wanted to set a challenge for myself, so that I could improve, and I feel very proud of completing that challenge. Thank you so much for engaging in the thing I am very proud of and following it through until the end.

If you have any thoughts to share, please do.