Rose
It's been a month since I broke up with Oliver. I've been able to mostly avoid him, until Professor Burbage assigns a group project.
"We're going to do something different today," she calls out near the end of the class. "For your homework over this weekend, we are going to participate in a Muggle tradition. Group projects. Each of you needs to choose one thing that Muggles have but we do not, and talk about it. Can it be converted to use for witches and wizards? What is it used for?"
I groan. This was one of the worst things about Muggle school. One person always ends up doing all of the work and then everyone else's grade completely hinges on that one person. But if the one doing all the work purposely tanks it for everyone else who doesn't chip in, they get a bad grade as well.
Professor Burbage hands out our assignments, and I groan again. Luckily, she's only split us up into pairs as opposed to groups of four or five like most muggle schools would do, but my partner is Oliver.
I glance over at him on the opposite side of the room with apprehension. He's smiling at me with a goofy grin, and I almost smile back at him, but then I remind myself why I broke up with him. He'll be off doing Quidditch or who knows what else, and I'll be stuck to do all the work. I briefly consider tanking it just to throw his grade off, but decide against it. I'd rather not have a bad grade just to get revenge on my ex-boyfriend.
Professor Burbage dismisses us soon after handing out the assignments and I pack my bag as quickly as possible, but not fast enough because Oliver comes over.
"What luck, huh?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at me. It takes all my self-control not to laugh. I'll admit it, I miss him, but I'd never admit it to anyone else. It's why I ask Harry occasionally to let Oliver know how I'm doing. Partly to make him jealous but also partly because I still care about him.
"Great, I can do all the work and you get to take credit for it," I say sardonically.
"Absolutely not, Rose. In fact, you choose the topic, but I will do all the work for it. I'll study, I'll create the report, and you just look over it and tell me if it sounds good. With your upbringing, you don't even need to do this project. Just oversee it."
I study his face, trying to work out what he's truly trying to accomplish. "That's not fair to you, though," I say hesitantly.
"Well, if you say so. Should we meet in the library then around nine tomorrow morning?" he asks, and I sigh. Why did I shoot down his offer of doing everything? Now I have to spend time with him. I try to quell the small part of me that feels excited about that.
"Sure. But we will work together on this, on one condition. While it's not fair to you to do all the work and all I do is oversee and choose the topic, if you try to make a move on me or mention getting back together or anything along those lines, you can fend for yourself. I won't even look over the project and will just take whatever grade you get us. Heaven knows I can do plenty of extra credit easily to fix it."
Oliver makes an X over his heart. "I promise, Rose. I understand why you broke up with me, and you were right."
I can tell he wants to say something more about getting back together, but true to his word, he doesn't say anything, and I nod, satisfied, even though I want to take him back right then and there for being mature enough to recognize that I was right.
"Great. Then we'll meet tomorrow, in the library at nine. Oh, and we're doing telephones," I say. Oliver looks at me quizzically, and I laugh for the first time since he came over.
"You'll see tomorrow," I say, and Oliver nods.
The next morning, I meet Oliver in the section of the library where all the books on Muggles are stored with a forced smile. He's already got a pile of books in front of him and I can tell he's been reading about telephones already.
"Hey, Rose," he calls and I wave to him.
"Well, tell me what you've found," I say and Oliver nods, diving into an info-dump about telephones, including a few things that even I didn't know. After he's told me what he learned, we discuss what we want our project to look like, and then work in silence for a few hours until lunch. When the clock chimes 1:00, we decided we've gotten a good chunk of the project done and start cleaning up.
I am reaching up to put a book back on a higher shelf, my knee resting on the table below the shelf as I put my foot down quickly after putting the book back, expecting there to be a chair, but there's not. I start to tumble downward, trying to catch myself on anything, when I feel a hard impact on my back… but it's not the floor. I turn around to see Oliver standing behind me.
His arms are flexed to support me and keep me from falling any farther. His face is only a few inches from mine, and my back rests against his chest. I can feel his heart pounding against it. My heart is pounding in perfect time with his. "Are you okay?" he asks, slightly out of breath.
"Yeah," I say, also out of breath, even though I did nothing. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow hard. "Where did you come from?" I ask.
"I was the next aisle over. I saw you putting your foot down where there wasn't a chair, and knew you were going to fall, so I ran over here as fast as I could. I'm glad I caught you."
His head hasn't moved. Neither has mine. Oliver's eyes flick down towards my lips, and in that moment all I wish is for an interruption, or for him to kiss me. One way or the other, I want something to happen. Oliver starts to close the gap between our lips- yes! I think- until Madam Pince sees us and comes running over.
"This is a place to study!" she yells, making us jump apart. "Get out and don't come back until you've learned to behave yourselves!"
Oliver and I burst into laughter, grabbing our bags and running out of the library to Madam Pince's yells. We turn the corner, and both lean up against the wall, using it to slide down until we're sitting on the cold floor. I stare at Oliver, a slight smile on my face and returns my gaze. My thoughts are racing. I want to hear him out but I don't believe anything will change. I wanted to kiss him but I'm worried that I'll still be second best with him, next to his studies and Quidditch. I'll never be that desperate for friends that I will allow myself to be second best. And yet as I stare at his handsome face, with those warm, hazel eyes and amazing smile, my thoughts start to turn to him and how he caught me, how safe I felt in his arms. I wouldn't have been seriously injured from the fall, but the fact that he ran over to save me from getting hurt…
"I'm sorry," Oliver starts, interrupting my thoughts, and I look at him. "I should have never made you feel like you were sec-"
"Stop," I say, and Oliver looks at me confused. "I said no talk of getting back together."
"But I'm not. I'm trying to apologize to you," he says, and I shake my head, knowing in that moment that I'm not ready to get back together with him and that the anger I felt that night is still raging strong fiery.
"That's along the same lines, Oliver," I say. "I'm not ready to hear anything about it. I'm still mad at you."
Oliver looks at me, his expression falling and pain reaching his eyes. I want to take back what I said but I don't. "I think you need to finish this project without me. I'll look it over once you've finished to make sure it seems correct. Only because I don't want a bad grade and to have to do a bunch of extra credit to make up your mistakes," I say knowing that's not really true, then stand up and shoulder my bag.
"Goodbye, Oliver." I walk away, forcing myself to not look back until I've turned a corner and am confident he won't see me do so. He's sitting on the floor still, his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. I think I see his shoulders shaking like he's crying, and it's almost enough to make me run back to him, but I don't, instead turning away from him, searching for a private alcove I can hide in. There is none, so I hold my head high, wiping away a solitary tear. When I get back to my dormitory that night, I see the picture of Oliver and I on my nightstand that I hadn't put away yet, not quite sure I wanted to. I pick it up, my heart sinking, and my thoughts racing. I do want to get back together with him. I look so happy in this picture…. I shake my head, throwing the frame against the wall, then sit on my bed, finally letting myself break down. My thoughts return to the same vein as before. Even though he's hurting, I don't think it will be enough to make him put me first, and that's something I will always require in my boyfriend or husband.
After crying for a few minutes, I sniffle, walking over to the picture frame. While the glass hasn't fallen apart, there's a few cracks in it. I glance towards the fireplace in the girls' dorm, and debate putting the picture in the fire. I put it in my bag to give back to Oliver instead, when I look over the presentation.
Monday morning at breakfast, Oliver brings over the presentation to me. True to his word, he's completed the project and been very thorough. There's a couple things I end up fixing but those go quick, and we're ready to present. We head to Muggle Studies, and for the first time in a month, Oliver sits next to me. I try to ignore how much that makes my heart pound. Professor Burbage calls us up, where I let Oliver flounder as he presents, a small part of me feeling badly, but the majority of me feeling vindicated. After our presentation, we sit back down and Oliver leans over.
"That was horrible," he says, and I chuckle.
"You do those at least once a year per class in Muggle school," I whisper, then turn to focus on the rest of the presentations, ignoring anything else Oliver has to say, and he attempts to talk to me multiple times. At the end of class, as we're packing up our bags, I pull out the small picture frame.
"Please take this back," I say, handing it to Oliver. He gives me a confused look until he turns the frame over and sees it's the picture he gave me on Christmas, and that it's broken.
"Rose, no," he says, trying to press it back into my hand, and I shake my head.
"Either you take it back or I burn it," I say, making Oliver's mouth drop. "We're really done, Oliver."
With that, I turn around and leave the Muggle Studies classroom, this time feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I can finally move on.