Author's Note: There are no major Half-Blood Prince spoilers in this chapter. After all… this is three years before Half-Blood Prince. However, in later chapters, there WILL be Half-Blood Prince spoilers. You have been warned.
Chapter 13: Puddlemere Divided
The professors were covering more material during class, and at a faster rate than we Seventh Years had ever experienced. Despite this, we suddenly saw a drastic cut in homework assignments we received. In almost every subject, all new material was covered during class, so our time outside of class could be dedicated to reviewing old material. While we were all glad to have the time to study for N.E.W.T.s, we all quickly ran into a problem with the new "homework" situation: it was discouraging. When we were working on a normal assignment, we could see our progress. For example, if we had one hundred pages for Defense against the Dark Arts to read, we could easily see our progress by checking the page number. Studying isn't like that. We could study one subject for twenty hours and feel just as uncertain about whether we had studied enough. This discouragement, combined with an overload of information and the tediousness of the study material made focusing on studying very difficult.
Oliver and I quickly found a way to focus on the material we needed to study. We took turns quizzing each other. We had to pay attention in order to hear each question or to think of a question to ask. In order to stay on task, we turned the quiz sessions into small competitions, keeping track of how many questions each of us answered correctly. Both of us were competitive enough that we took even these trivial contests seriously. During close "games," studying was actually fun.
On this particular Thursday night, it was not a close competition. Oliver and I were going over Transfiguration notes from our fifth year. Oliver hadn't cared much about the material two years previously. That night, he cared about ten times less.
"Which spell would you use to turn water into glass?" I asked, looking down into the old Transfiguration book.
"Um…" Oliver said. He sighed dramatically. "The I Don't Give a Flying Broomstick Spell."
"Close. The Crystallizing Spell," I said, looking up from the book.
Oliver smiled. "How was my answer close?"
"Because I don't give a flying broomstick about the Crystallizing Spell, either," I said, closing the textbook and dropping it on the floor. I leaned further back into the small sofa Oliver and I were sitting on, which was facing one of the many corners of the common room.
"We have to keep studying like this for almost two more weeks," I said, closing my eyes and bringing my hands up to my temples to try to get rid of the small headache my unpleasant thought gave me.
"Yes. And then there's the week of taking the tests by day and studying at night," Oliver said.
My headache got a bit worse. "Thanks for that little piece of optimism," I said, laughing and taking my hands away from my head.
"Sorry. I never liked Transfiguration," Oliver said, leaning into the sofa as well and looking at the wall.
"Then why did you take it after O.W.L.s?" I asked.
"It's required in order to work at the Ministry, as are Potions and Defense, or I probably wouldn't be taking those either."
"I like Defense," I said.
"I do, too, this year, but we've never had a decent teacher before."
"Lockhart was rather amusing," I said.
Oliver laughed. "All of the girls seemed to think so."
I grinned. "All right, then… what classes would you have taken by choice, then?"
"The easiest ones I could," Oliver said, honestly. "Muggles Studies (which I am taking), Divination, Care of Magical Creatures…."
"Those aren't required to work at the Ministry?" I asked.
"Muggles Studies is. And Charms. I actually like those classes."
I watched Oliver carefully for a few seconds. "It's your worst nightmare, isn't it?" I asked quietly.
"What is?"
"Working for the Ministry."
Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise. "No, of course not. My dad works there. Half of my relatives do."
"So?"
"So…." Oliver sighed. "It's not my worst nightmare."
I smiled sympathetically. "Well… you won't be working at the Ministry, so it doesn't matter."
Oliver smiled back. "I hope you're right."
"I will be." I bent down, picked the Transfiguration textbook up off the floor, and turned so I was leaning up against the arm of the sofa. "Unfortunately, even if being a Keeper doesn't require a good N.E.W.T. in Transfiguration, working for the Prophet does, so we'd best get back to it." I handed him the book.
Oliver opened the book compliantly and starting flipping through the pages to find where we'd left off. As he was searching, there was a sudden decline in the noise level of the room. One moment, there was the sound of quiet conversations and quills scratching on parchment, and the next moment, almost complete silence.
Oliver noticed the silence, too, and the two of us shifted so that we could look over the back of the sofa to see the rest of the common room. It wasn't hard to spot what had grabbed everyone's attention. Tara was standing by the fireplace with her hand in Adam's. He was down on one knee, a jewelry box in his other hand.
I was too far away to hear Adam's words. He didn't speak long. As soon as he stopped, Tara started nodding quickly. Adam slipped the ring on her finger, and the Gryffindors in the common room clapped and whistled loudly while laughing. Oliver and I were no exceptions. It would have been impossible not to show our happiness for our two friends.
"Did you know he was going to propose?" I asked, after Tara and Adam left the common room to escape from everyone's attention.
"Yes, but not when or where he'd do it."
We sat back down on the couch in the way it's meant to be sat upon. I reached out and put my hand in Oliver's.
"That was so cute," I said, unable not to get girly over the scene.
Oliver laughed. "I think he should have done it in the Great Hall."
"That would have been kind of embarrassing for Tara," I said, knowing Adam wouldn't have been embarrassed by the stunt.
"Exactly," Oliver said, laughing even more.
I laughed, too, though I felt a little guilty for thinking it would have been entertaining to see Adam propose to shy Tara in front of the majority of the school.
"Mark tried to talk him out of it when he told us about proposing and showed us the ring," Oliver said.
"Was Mark serious?"
"It's hard to tell sometimes. He gave both serious and comical reasons why Adam shouldn't get engaged this early."
"If he gave any serious reasons, then he was serious," I said. "He was probably just a little afraid of losing his best friend."
"I guess it's possible," Oliver said.
"But you don't think so."
"I think if it is possible for one friend not to be threatened by his best friend getting married, then Mark and Adam would probably be the two most likely to fit that bill."
"What was Mark worried about then? That Adam wasn't marrying the right girl?"
Oliver laughed, and I knew why, though he told me anyway. "Adam and Tara have only dated each other. They've known half of their lives that the other was the 'right one', even before they knew what that really meant. Everyone, and especially Mark, would say that eventually Adam and Tara should get married."
"Eventually," I agreed. "Seventeen does seem very young to get engaged."
"Mark mentioned that," Oliver said.
I smiled, thinking I'd correctly guessed Mark's misgiving.
"But Mark knows better than that. Most of the people in his family are wizards."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked, getting a little defensive, as I did fairly often when people starting talking about blood.
"So Mark knows that wizards consider it perfectly normal to get married young," Oliver said, good-naturedly. "Muggles, I believe, tend to believe that young people who get married are forced into it by… circumstances."
I laughed. "Circumstances?"
"Pregnancies and whatnot," he said.
"Well… that's not entirely true. It's not entirely untrue, but sometimes Muggles get married young because they want to, Oliver."
"Yes, but it's still unexpected. It's not unexpected for young wizards to marry. It's perfectly acceptable, no questions about 'circumstances' asked."
I laughed again. "All right, then, why is Mark so worried about Adam and Tara if it's perfectly acceptable for the two to marry young?"
Oliver shrugged a little. "He brought up several things. The two don't have much money to start a life together with—"
"Tara's family has plenty of money," I interrupted.
"Yes, but I'm sure Adam and Tara won't want to rely on that. Adam and Tara both want to work. They have careers that they need to focus on."
"I'm sure they'll work for a while before marrying," I said, smiling. "I'm not worried about them. They'll make it work, even while working and with little money."
"Yes," Oliver agreed, confidently, but perhaps a little unenthusiastically.
"Think they're afraid?" I asked after several seconds.
"Undoubtedly."
"Even Adam?"
"Adam's a little naïve, but even he knows that it's a big decision, Laura."
"I know that," I said. "I just mean, Adam makes a decision and doesn't worry about it much."
"I think marriage is enough to strike fear in any man."
I laughed. "Why is that?"
"The same reasons it scares women, once they look past all of the romantic notions surrounding the idea, I think," Oliver said. "It's one of those decisions that shapes your entire life, even if the marriage doesn't last a lifetime. Doesn't that kind of choice always make people wonder if they are making the right decision, or what would happen if they were to choose differently?"
"I guess." I thought for a minute. "I think, even if the decision to get married is terrifying, maybe it takes a little fear out of life, too. I mean… you wouldn't have to be afraid of being alone. You wouldn't have to worry as much about what you look like."
Oliver interrupted me with a laugh. "Guess you aren't planning on being a trophy wife."
I laughed, too. "Oliver, we both know that I'm not qualified to be a trophy wife."
Oliver didn't respond, and I felt bad for putting him in a position where he couldn't safely say anything without pissing me off.
"I think having a trophy husband sounds much more appealing than being a trophy wife," I said, grinning to show that I wasn't serious.
Oliver smiled and shook his head. "You'd find him boring."
"Yes," I admitted, making sure I sounded disappointed. "Just as well, I guess. I could never afford a trophy husband on what the Prophet pays. Of course, that's only if the Prophet agrees to pay me at all, so…." I bent down, picked up the Transfiguration book off the floor, and handed it to Oliver.
Oliver sighed, but started flipping through pages in the Transfiguration book again. We had already lost too much studying time that evening as it was. (For the record, I slaughtered Oliver in our studying competition that night, correctly answering more than three times as many questions as he did.)
The next morning at breakfast was the first time all of the Seventh Year Gryffindors (minus Percy) were together after the engagement. Adam and Tara were floating on air, receiving congratulations and best wishes from students from different houses. The rest of us Gryffindors had already congratulated them ten times over, and had quickly reached the point where we couldn't congratulate them anymore without appearing as if we didn't mean it.
By about halfway through breakfast, most of Adam and Tara's friends from other houses had already come up to talk to the couple, and our normal group was left alone. When Oliver and I began dating, the group dynamic stayed about the same. As far as the group was concerned, there wasn't much of a difference between Oliver and I dating and the two of us being best friends. There was a difference between Adam and Tara dating and Adam and Tara being engaged to be married, and everyone in the group felt it. We all knew there was going to be a bit of awkwardness until someone brought the subject up, so, of course, Adam did.
And, being Adam, he got straight to the point. "We're really growing up, aren't we?"
We all agreed in our own ways. I nodded. Oliver half-smiled. Rose laughed a bit. Tara looked sad, and the rest verbally agreed with the statement.
"It's hard to believe that in a little over three weeks, we'll all graduate, especially considering how long we've spent here," Joan said.
"I hardly remember life before Hogwarts. It seems almost like someone else lived that life before I came here," Tara agreed.
"Merlin, in another four weeks, I'm going to be working at Gringotts," Cedar said, grimacing at the though. I wasn't sure what pained her more: the idea of working at Gringotts or the idea of working. Cedar wasn't sure yet what she really wanted to do, so her father (who worked for the Ministry of Magic in Goblin Liaisons) had gotten her a temporary job at the bank.
"Yeah, and I'll be interviewing for the Ministry," Rose said.
"Me, too," said Mark. I was a little surprised that the idea of working for the Ministry didn't bother Mark as it did Oliver. Overall, Mark seemed too sarcastic to take orders from people and too fun to be in such a boring area of work. However, the idea of working his way up through the chain of command appealed to him.
"I'll be training to be a Healer," Joan said. She'd been accepted to the University of Healing and Magical Medicines months ago, with her excellent grades and Prefect title. I hoped she'd enter the wizarding equivalent of psychology, but she was set on becoming a midwife. She would work through St. Mungo's, but most children were delivered in homes.
"I shall be acting," Adam said, dramatically.
"You hope," Mark said, good-naturedly.
Adam laughed. "I'll do Muggle theater, if I have to." He paused. "Even Shakespeare."
"I'll be at the Daily Prophet, I hope," I said.
"And I hope I'll be playing Quidditch."
"And I'll be learning the family business, so I can take over for my aunt when she retires," Tara said. She said it as if it were nothing, but Tara would likely be the most successful of all of us. Her aunt (and mother) were daughters of Alexander Blotts, cofounder of Flourish and Blotts.
"We'll be all over the place, won't we?" Joan asked, sadly. "We won't get to see each other often."
"Well… we'll all get together at the wedding," Adam said. "Of course… that will be at least a year from now."
"There's New Year's before that," Oliver said, smiling reassuringly across the table at Joan.
"And we can always keep in touch through owl post," Tara added.
"Still won't be the same, will it?" Cedar said. "Not living in the same place. All doing our own things with other people."
"There are always weekends," Mark said hopefully.
"That's when Quidditch matches are," Oliver said.
"And shows," Adam added.
"Stores don't close on weekends," Tara said softly.
"And the Prophet's biggest paper comes out on Sunday," I said.
"So much for that," Mark said before anyone else could rule out weekend get-togethers.
We sat in silence, eating eggs and toast, the reality of graduation hitting us. Yes, there would be perhaps a few times a year when it was possible for the whole group to be together, but our relationships would all have to be on a more one-on-one level if they were going to continue. I wondered what this would mean for my friendships with people in the group I wasn't as close to, such as Rose and Mark. We got along well while with everyone, but what were the odds we would go out of our way to see each other?
Joan seemed to be having similar thoughts. "We all have to promise that we will keep in touch through owl post, at the very least," Joan said suddenly. "All of us, with everyone."
All of us quickly promised that we would do this. Time would be the only thing that would tell whether we meant our promise, or if we were just trying to reassure Joan.
"I still can't believe you two are officially getting married in a year," Mark said, turning to Adam, who was sitting next to him.
Adam smiled and took Tara's hand. "We don't know when exactly, but we're planning for it being about a year after we get our careers moving along."
"Good idea," Oliver said.
Tara nodded. "It's mainly for Adam, of course. So he can make a name for himself."
Adam laughed. "It would be easier to make a name for myself with the Blotts' name connected to my own."
Tara laughed, too, and turned to the rest of us. "That's what he's trying to avoid, of course, but he won't say that in front of me."
"What do you mean?" Rose asked.
"He means that he wants to make a name for himself on his own, without any help that being tied to my family might possibly offer… although I think he's overestimating how much that connection would help him."
All of us decided that there was no purpose in pointing out that the Blotts family donated a great deal of money to the arts, since all of us knew this anyway. I didn't blame Adam for wanting to succeed on his own merits—merits all of us knew he had based on his ability to perfectly mock us (not cruelly) whenever he wanted.
"Well, I can't wait for the ceremony," Joan said, beaming. "I absolutely love weddings. I hope there will be even more soon," she said, casting a meaningful glance at Oliver and me.
I blushed and looked away from her quickly. I felt Oliver shift in his seat a little, but he laughed.
"Well, it should be only a matter of time before Dave and Cedar decide to get married," Oliver said, turning the focus away from the two of us, which I was grateful for.
Cedar laughed. "The two of us can't even decide on careers. Do you think we're going to make a decision like marriage right out of Hogwarts? So I guess Joan will just have to set her hopes on Laura and Oliver."
I blushed even more furiously and looked down at my plate. Oliver shifted in his seat again.
"We've only been dating for a couple of months," I said.
"Well, no one said you had to get married any time soon," Rose said.
"I still need to do a bit of Transfiguration, I think," I said, standing up.
"We haven't had homework in a week," Adam said.
"Yes, but N.E.W.T.s are coming up very quickly," I said. "I could use the extra half hour of studying."
"I think I'll come, too," Oliver said, standing as well.
The two of us fled the Great Hall and started to make our way up to the library.
"We're too young to get married, even if wizards don't think so," I said quickly.
Oliver laughed a little. "They were just giving us a hard time."
I looked over at him and grinned. "You were just as fast to run away from it as I was."
"Yeah," Oliver agreed. "The whole conversation was uncomfortable. I don't like to think about us all leaving here."
"I don't either."
"Then let's not think about it, and go for a walk before Defense," Oliver said, smiling.
I agreed, pretty sure that I wasn't going to have many opportunities in the next two weeks to do anything but study, eat and sleep. I was proven correct, and even though I'd been expecting two horrible weeks, I was unprepared for the hell we Seventh Years went through. The professors seemed to decide that there was no longer any point in covering new material, so lessons turned into massive review sessions. These lessons were either boring or terrifying: boring if we were reviewing information I'd already gone over on my own, and terrifying if we were reviewing spells I barely remembered existed. If lessons were bad enough, time outside of class was worse. Seventh Years studied at almost all times during the day. It became harder to navigate the halls because Seventh Years were sitting there in between lessons, trying to cram even more information into their brains. Our year was so bad about this that Filch actually added "No studying" to his list of things forbidden in the corridors. (Professor Dumbledore made him remove the rule due to the distress it was causing Seventh Years.) About the only times that most Seventh Years stopped studying were while sleeping and eating.
By the final weekend before exams started, we started bringing books to the Great Hall, so we could read during meals. And, for the first time since I'd befriended Oliver, I started feeling very lonely again. Oliver and I had stopped quizzing each other because we both needed to focus on different parts of each subject. Even though we were usually sitting right next to each other while studying, we might as well have been in different buildings. When we spoke, it was about N.E.W.T.s and their importance. When we didn't speak, it was because of N.E.W.T.s and their importance. It should have worried me that neither one of us saw anything wrong with this. We were both focused on doing well so we could be more certain of our futures.
Finally, the dreaded tests arrived. I remember very little about the tests themselves. Written tests were in the morning, practicals were in the afternoons, and we stayed up cramming for the next tests late into the nights. After each day, my mood improved more and more. I was confident I was doing well and could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Immediately after tests started, our group of friends started acting more normally. Mark and Adam started goofing around during book-free meals again. Joan stopped taking points away from younger students for talking in the common room. Cedar and Rose started spending a little time out of Gryffindor Tower to see Dave and Flint. And Oliver and I spent an hour or so in the evenings relaxing together.
He seemed more withdrawn than normal, but I wrote it off as being caused by stress from the end of the school year. On Wednesday evening, I found him by the fire in the common room reading a letter, which he put away quickly when he noticed me.
"Letter from your other girlfriend?" I asked, grinning.
"No," Oliver said, smiling. "Just from Mum," he added.
"Then what are you trying to hide it for?"
He laughed. "Would you want anyone reading a letter from your mum?"
It was a good enough argument that, whether he was telling the truth or not, I thought it best to drop the subject. We took a short walk, and Oliver seemed happy enough, though perhaps a bit preoccupied.
I might have paid more attention to Oliver's behavior, but I was distracted by Percy's. Percy hadn't talked to me since our fight in Potions. (Granted, he'd had few opportunities to break his silence. He was usually in the library studying, and we were too busy to bicker during class.) I'd thoroughly expected his silent treatment to continue for the rest of the school year. So, I was shocked when he nodded and said, "Hello," pleasantly enough as Oliver and I passed him while entering the common room to start studying again.
"Hello," Oliver said, not paying much attention.
I stopped and turned to watch Percy turn into the hallway leading to the rest of the castle. "He said 'hello'. To us. Nicely."
Oliver, who'd gone into the common room, turned and paused before answering. "Percy? Yeah, I guess he did."
I faced Oliver again. "But why?"
Oliver shrugged. "Maybe he's not angry anymore."
I nodded, stupidly, and joined Oliver in the common room, which the Fat Lady sarcastically thanked me for.
The next day, I walked into the Great Hall for breakfast alone as Percy was walking out.
"Morning," he said, still walking.
"Percy?" I said, turning to watch him go.
He stopped walking, turned around and waited.
"How are your exams going?" I asked, grasping for something to say.
"Well. Yours?"
"Same."
"Good," he said.
"Yes," I agreed. I struggled to think of something to say to extend the conversation. "I'll be glad when they're over."
"Yes."
"How's your family?" I asked.
"Alive."
I smiled. Since our First Year, I'd always asked him that question when he'd gotten letters from home. He'd always given the same answer, even after Dan died, when the answer 'alive' meant something to both of us.
"Good," I said.
"Yes. Well… I'll see you around, Laura."
I nodded, thrilled that Percy was speaking to me at all, yet a bit sad that even this simple conversation felt so forced. Percy walked out of the Great Hall, and I joined the rest of my friends at the table.
"That was weird," Adam said to me, jerking his head toward where I'd been talking to Percy.
"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm not sure what's gotten into him."
"An alien," Adam said.
We all laughed and then started our new morning routine of speculating on the next N.E.W.T.
Nothing changed during the rest of the week except the number of tests left to take. At last, after our Potions practical exam, Hell Week ended to much cheering, laughing and drinking (The butterbeer and firewhiskey were compliments of Fred and George Weasley, who were Fifth Years and had just finished their O.W.L.s.) in the common room.
"Here's to the end of exams!" Adam said for the sixth or seventh time, raising his firewhiskey into the air.
"To the end of exams!" the rest of us yelled, raising glasses as well. The Sixth Years joining us seemed just as happy as the Fifth and Seventh Years, but it probably had to do with the drinks and the nearness of summer vacation.
"Here's to graduating and never taking another bloody test again!" Adam said.
"To graduation!" the Seventh Years cheered.
"To no more homework!" Mark said.
"To no more Prefect duties!" Joan called out.
"To no more Snape, that son of a bludger!" Cedar said, thrusting her glass into the air with so much force, some butterbeer slopped out over the edge of her cup.
"To no more Snape!" the Seventh Years (and some others) echoed.
I laughed and looked over to Oliver, who was standing beside me. He was raising his glass and smiling, but he looked far away.
"You OK?" I asked.
He snapped back to reality. "Fine," he said.
"Sure? You've seemed strange all week."
"I'm fine," he repeated.
"To Adam and the theater!" Mark said, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder, making me wonder exactly how much alcohol was in butterbeer and firewhiskey. Adam took Mark into a quick hug, patting him on the back.
"To Mark and the Ministry!" Adam said after releasing Mark so they could both raise glasses. "And to Rose and Percy, too!"
Percy nodded from across the room to accept the gesture. He'd joined in the celebration at first, but had left when the drinks started taking effect. Perhaps not completely breaking up the party was celebration enough for Percy.
"And to Oliver for making Puddlemere!" Adam said.
"To Oliver!" I joined in with the others.
"And Tara and Flourish and Blotts!" Adam continued.
"Puddlemere?" I asked, understanding what had been said. "You made Puddlemere United?" I said, turning to Oliver.
He looked guilty. "Not officially."
"What do you mean?"
"I still have to try out, but the coach wrote me and said I had a great chance of making the reserve team," he said quickly.
"Oliver, that's great!" I said, throwing my arms around him.
Oliver returned the hug, but slowly and with only one arm. I noticed and considered it strange, but it didn't phase me much.
"Puddlemere! And you won't have to work for the Ministry!" Why didn't you tell me you'd made it? When did you find out?" I said.
"Tuesday," he said simply.
"Tuesday?" I asked, stepping back. "Why didn't you say anything?"
Oliver looked a little to my right instead of right at me. "I just wanted some time to think about it."
"Did you get any other offers?"
"No."
"Then what's there to think about?" I asked, grinning.
Oliver didn't answer. My smile disappeared slowly. Finally, I gathered enough nerve to repeat my question.
"Would you like to go for a walk?" Oliver, looking into my eyes, asked instead of telling me what he had to think about.
"No," I said, starting to feel a sinking sensation in my stomach.
Oliver didn't say anything for several seconds—enough time for Adam and Mark to toast a few random younger people (whom Percy would not allow to join in the party) in the common room.
"To the funny looking kid with glasses in the corner!" Adam said.
"Adam, that's Harry Potter," Tara whispered.
"To Harry Potter and his funny glasses!" Adam said, even louder.
"To Harry Potter!" yelled the group.
"All right, let's go," I said, wanting to get away from the noise. I led Oliver out of the common room, into the small hallway near Gryffindor, and to the window that looked out over the lake. We could still hear noise coming from the common room, but now I could think.
"Oliver, what's wrong?" I asked, turning my back on the view the window offered, so I could watch Oliver.
"Laura…." He looked down at his shoes.
"Just tell me," I said impatiently.
"I have to focus on Quidditch."
I tried to make sense of this but failed. "Yes, I know."
Oliver must have taken some encouragement from my comment. He looked up again, though he looked out the window. "Then you know why I have to stop seeing you?" he asked.
Part of me had been expecting this, but it was still a blow. It took me a minute, which I spent closing my eyes, to recover. "What do you mean?" I asked, opening my eyes again.
Oliver had turned his gaze back to me. He sighed. "I have to put everything into this, Laura. I get to play for Puddlemere… a professional team. It's been generations since anyone in my family has had this chance right out of Hogwarts. It's what I've always wanted."
"So?" I asked bluntly.
"So I have to give Quidditch two hundred percent of me," he said, and I could tell he had prepared that line before we'd started the conversation. "Just like you'll have to give two hundred percent of yourself to the Daily Prophet. And if I'm giving all of my attention to Quidditch, and you're giving all of your efforts to the paper, then—"
"Then we'll understand that there will be less time for each other for a while," I interrupted, unwilling to hear the rest of his script.
"And what's the point of that?" he asked.
"The point of what?" I asked angrily.
"In continuing this when we should be focusing on our careers!"
I was floored again. "We can still focus on our careers and—"
"I can't," he interrupted.
"You can't play Quidditch and have relationships that mean anything?" I asked impatiently. "I suppose the people in your life have to wait until Quidditch season is over."
"No."
"What then? You want to see other people and are using Quidditch—"
"I don't want to see other people."
"Then what is your problem?"
"The problem is that when I got the letter telling me I have an excellent chance of getting what I've worked for for years, I thought of you! Every time I thought about Puddlemere, I thought about what it would mean for us."
"So?" I asked, seeing absolutely no problems in what he'd said.
"I can't focus on Quidditch while I'm constantly trying to balance it with you," he said, looking away again.
"I'm not asking you to balance it with me. I have never tried to get in the way—"
"You've always tried to tell me there's more to me than Quidditch."
"Because there is!"
"And now I don't want there to be! I want to succeed, Laura. I don't just want to be a reserve player. I want to be the Keeper. Maybe someday the captain or coach."
"I want you to succeed. I want to succeed, too. But there will always be more than work, Oliv—"
"Quidditch is my life."
"Quidditch is a sport," I spat. "A game. It's crazy to—"
"Just because you don't understand doesn't make it crazy," he said, looking at me without turning his head.
"You're right," I said, forcing calm into my voice. "It's unfair to say that everyone who is obsessed with Quidditch is crazy. What I meant was that you're crazy."
"I am not—"
"Will you listen to yourself? You want nothing in your life but Quidditch, so you're throwing away the one thing in your life you feel might actually compete with it!" I said, not even trying to hide my resentment.
"I'm trying to make sure that nothing interferes with my focus on my career," Oliver said impatiently.
"Then what was the point in the last two months, Oliver? What was the point in starting something if you were just going to end it once Quidditch season started again?"
"I didn't plan this," he said.
"I see. Now I don't fit in with your plan. When Quidditch was just a dream you needed someone else to believe in, did I fit in with your plan?" I asked coldly. I'd meant it to be a harsh blow, and it worked. Before this point, he really had looked sorry; now, a wall went up.
"I told you months ago, during Wizards and Warlocks, that I wouldn’t let anything get in the way of what I wanted. You knew all along what Quidditch means to me."
"So it's my fault," I said. "I'm the crazy one for actually believing that I meant something to you, too."
His wall broke down a little. "You do mean something to me, Laura," he said sincerely.
"But not enough," I said.
"Too much," he said quietly. "I can't completely focus on Quidditch because you mean too much to me."
His argument didn't make sense, and everything in me knew that he was making a mistake. Yet what could I do? What logical argument could I make against thoughts that were so illogical? Or maybe my feelings were making me illogical. I stood there, shaking my head slowly, starting to feel as if I were going to cry. He'd seen me cry before, but not because of anything he'd done, and I was unwilling to let that change. I didn't want him to see I cared as much as he claimed he cared. 'Too much.'
Too much. "Just not enough," I said.
I stepped away from the window, walked around Oliver and headed back for the common room. I didn't want to go back there, but curfew had passed, and I didn't trust myself to wander around the castle and pay enough attention to get back to Gryffindor.
"Laura, I'm sorry," Oliver called before I left the short hallway.
That's just not enough, I thought. I didn't think I could say it aloud without my voice breaking, so instead I turned the corner without looking back.
Author's Note:
I'm sorry! I really am! This has been part of the story for as long as I can remember, which was before I ever thought anyone but me would read the story. Part of me wanted to take this out because I knew readers wouldn't like it, but that would be untrue to the story… and to Oliver's character. Again, this chapter wasn't written to torture readers. The story up to this point has been leading to this chapter, and this chapter is necessary for the rest of the plot.
If you go to my profile, you can see the banner I made on Photoshop for this story! Have a story you would like a banner for? E-mail me. :)
Preview for the next chapter: In the days before graduation, one conversation solves some of Laura's problems. Another conversation (with someone she never expected to identify with) makes Laura realize what caused most of the conflicts in her life… and answers a question posed near the beginning of the story. (Don't you love cryptic chapter previews?)