Chapter 20: Cliché
Adam, Oliver and I walked into the main room for the New Year's Party just in time for the moment of silence. The three of us stood somberly, looking down, but my mind was running wildly. I wouldn't allow myself to think in words because my own thoughts concerning the conversation I'd just had with Oliver scared me. What was left when I for the most part eliminated the words from my mind were the strong feelings of confusion and… hope, I think.
I'd missed him. I'd missed having a friend who already knew everything that I'd been through while growing up. I'd missed knowing someone well enough to know what that person meant even when I couldn't see his face. I'd missed the relative ease of communication, even when that communication came through bickering, spats or awkward, yet telling, silence.
The fireworks were a welcome relief from the effort it took not to pay attention to the few thoughts that were breaking through the barrier I was trying to put up between my subconscious and consciousness. The show was as spectacular as I'd remembered it being the last time I'd visited Oliver's house. The fireworks lingered near the ceiling, spelling words and painting picture through sparks of light. I noticed several Quidditch related shapes, including some banners supporting Puddlemere United and the team's Keeper.
There was no chance to speak to anyone after the last of the fireworks had been exploded. People immediately started lining up in the middle of the room to be chosen for Wizards and Warlocks. Adam was the most enthusiastic of all, and Oliver and I followed closely behind him. We stood on opposite sides of Adam, who was the first to be chosen. He had still never been on a losing team of the magic equivalent of Capture the Flag. Mark, Rose and I joined him on the Wizards team that year, and the rest of the old seventh years ended up with the Warlocks. Only Tara chose not to play, saying that she should stay with her daughter, and I'm sure Tara welcomed the excuse not to participate.
Once everyone who wanted to play had been separated into opposing teams, Mr. Wood explained the rules briefly, passed out armbands, and sent the teams out to hide their flags. Rose and I fell to the back of the group of Wizards, who decided to hide the flag on the ground behind a tree near the center of our side of the large, wooded yard.
One of the rules in Wizards and Warlocks was that only two people could 'guard' the flag, so some of the older men on our team came up with a strategy that involved sending some pairs of people as pseudo-guards. All that the pairs had to do was listen for people approaching and convince members of the opposing team that the flag was near them. The Warlocks would obviously come closer to try to spot the flag, and the fake guards could not only tag them, but do so in a way that implied that the Warlocks had gotten too close to the flag for comfort. Hopefully the opposing team could never figure out exactly where the real flag was.
Rose knew an easy job when she heard one, and she immediately volunteered to watch over a nonexistent flag. Since she was the only one on my team (except for Mark and Adam, who would certainly pair up) that I knew, I said that I would be a decoy with her. She approved the idea, and the two of us hurried off near the west edge of the grounds to find a suitable spot to stand throughout the game. Not long after we'd found a nice, large tree to stroll around, a horn sounded the beginning of the first out of a potential three games.
The game ended up making the match in which I'd ended up in a net with Oliver seem like the epitome of fun. Everything that Rose and I could have spoken of, we had already covered during the long conversation with the other seventh years during dinner. And, I suppose, we weren't really supposed to be speaking anyway. A few Warlocks fell for our trap at the beginning of the game, but we apparently weren't convincing enough in our role because it was clear that the other team had learned to avoid our area of the playing field by the middle of the forty-minute long game.
The two of us ended up sitting on the ground with our backs up against a large tree, and my mind started wandering back to the conversation with Oliver. Again, I had to concentrate on making sure that I didn't heed a few of the things I was thinking. I tried to focus on the things that he'd apologized for instead of the apologies themselves. I reflected on how I had almost failed at helping him instead of how much he had assisted me. And I thought a lot about how I meant to follow through with my promise to always be his friend, no matter what.
"Your hair looks like shit," Rose said loudly.
I looked over at her quickly, scowling. "Thanks a lot."
She smirked. "You should have heard what I said about your cloak. Your hair was about the… fifth thing I insulted, trying to get your attention."
"Oh," I said, looking into the distance on the off chance that someone from the other team would come into view, giving me an excuse to get up. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Rose said, and she meant it. "What I said three times before trying to get your attention was that I think the game should be over soon."
I checked my watch. "It's only been a little over half an hour. We could be here for another hour."
"Nice optimism," Rose said sarcastically.
I laughed a little. "Sorry."
The two of fell back into silence, and my thoughts quickly went back to where they'd been before she'd interrupted them.
"I haven't been paying much attention to you and Oliver tonight," Rose said, and I was pretty sure that she wasn't repeating herself.
I turned to look at her profile in the dim light again, shrugging. "You haven't been paying much attention to anyone tonight except for Flint. We didn't take it personally," I joked.
"True," Rose said shortly, "but now that I'm paying more attention…."
She'd let her sentence trail off, but I was confident that I wasn't going to like what was sure to come.
"I'm glad that you're so happy," I tried to distract her, saying the first thing I could think of that had nothing to do with me.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"You're in love with Oliver," she said bluntly without missing a beat.
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out of my mouth. I just sat on the cold ground with my mouth gaping open while leaning up against a tree in the middle of what was turning out to be a boring—and now embarrassing—match of Wizards and Warlocks.
"Things could be worse," Rose said, not putting any more emotion into her voice, "because he's in love with you, too."
Spoken language was still lost on me.
"Mark mentioned that the two of you were outside for quite a long time, which all of us know means that the two of you were fighting about something or other. Doubtlessly something that happened years ago."
I couldn't deny that, although she paused to offer me the opportunity to do so.
"And if the two of you were left to yourselves, it would probably take another… six months before you finally admitted to each other that you loved each other. However, I'm sure that at this very moment Joan is plotting ways to put you into an uncomfortable situation that—sure—will speed up the process, but… I know that Joan's set-ups are far from fun."
"You've been through one?" I muttered.
"Three. We won't go there. It's not the point. The point is that you are quite possibly the second most stubborn person on the face of the Earth, only second to Oliver, but you're not stupid. Your choices are to talk to Oliver on your own terms or to suffer through one of Joan's 'good deeds'. I know what I would pick."
I was a little more uncertain.
"Oh, come on, Laura," Rose said, making sure that I could see her rolling her eyes. "Take your happiness into your own hands for once."
"I've taken my happiness into my own hands before," I snapped.
"Then do it again," she responded. A horn sounded from the house, easily gaining our full attention. "We won," she said simply, standing.
I followed her cue and the two of us stretched our backs before starting towards the source of the loud sound to rejoin our team. Rose didn't continue the lecture. She left me to my own thoughts, which was even worse than listening to her preach at me.
The second match between Adam's Wizards and the Warlocks was hardly a contest. We Wizards abandoned the fake-flag approach, even though it had worked, and instead sent as many pairs as possible into the opposing side. Even though many people were tagged at the beginning of the game, we located the flag within ten minutes. After that, it was only a matter of negotiating it so that a large group of us Wizards arrived at the flag at the same time, overwhelming the guards and safely running the opposing team's flag over to our side of the playing field, hence winning the game.
Both sides were happy with the quick match, not only because they considered the Wizards' win to be inevitable because that's what side Adam was on, but because there was plenty of time for a Quidditch match. There was a small open area near the house (avoided during Wizards and Warlocks for obvious strategic reasons) with goals set up on both sides. The pitch wasn't the official length of a professional Quidditch pitch, but both sides had the same advantages and disadvantages from the size difference, so it worked.
People who had stayed inside during Wizards and Warlocks came outside to watch the Quidditch match. Evidently it had been several years since a team had won the two-out-of-three games required to end the Wizards and Warlocks competition in only two games, so the guests were excited to see the return of Quidditch to the New Year's party. I had a small suspicion that they were also interested in seeing the new Puddlemere Keeper play in his own backyard. I let myself admit to myself that I wanted to see the same thing.
There were no stands or bleachers for the spectators, who instead gathered on the ground on the edges of the pitch. Some stronger lights than the ones in the backyard were brought outside and pointed towards the sky, making it possible for the Quidditch players to see what they were doing and for the people on the ground to watch.
Choosing teams was much less official than it had been for Wizards and Warlocks. Oliver and Mr. Wood were the captains for the two teams, and they asked whomever they wanted (of those who had brought brooms) to join them. Adam and Mark were automatically on Oliver's team, and I gathered with the rest of the seventh years to cheer them on. Most of the crowd was more apt to cheer for Mr. Wood's team. Everyone likes the underdogs.
"Would any of you like to play?" Oliver asked, walking up behind me and addressing the group.
"We say no absolutely every year," Rose said from Flint's arms. If anything, they'd gotten even… 'cuter' after being reunited after the long separation caused by being on opposite teams during the previous two games of Wizards and Warlocks.
"I'll play," Flint said, squeezing his wife a little tighter.
"You'll have to let go," I muttered.
Oliver laughed quietly behind me. "OK, then with the Weasley twins, I've got a full team. Come with me."
After a kiss from Rose, Flint complied with Oliver's instructions.
"You didn't want to play, did you, Laura?" Oliver asked after he'd walked several steps away.
I turned. "No. I definitely don't."
He smirked. "Just thought I'd ask."
"Thanks, but no," I repeated.
He nodded and hurried off to strategize quickly before the match. I avoided Rose's gaze as I turned back to the group. I listened as my friends talked about some other Quidditch matches they remembered from when they were younger. This was the first year that Oliver's team was expected to win, although it wouldn't be the first year they did win.
Fourteen wizards and witches on brooms were in the air within fifteen minutes of when Flint had joined Oliver's team. Mr. Wood's team wore some red reflective tape on the backs and sleeves of their normal cloaks so that the people on the ground could tell who was on each team. (I also thought that it might give Mr. Wood's team a slight advantage because they could more easily see each other in the air.)
The red tape didn't prove to be enough of an advantage. Mr. Wood's Keeper was more than competent, especially considering the strange lighting, but Oliver was professionally trained. He'd been good at Hogwarts, but even I could tell that he'd gotten better. The other players had a very small chance of putting the Quaffle past him.
"You let that in!" Mr. Wood accused after making the only goal his team would make.
"Only if you can prove it," Oliver said seriously and loudly enough that everyone on the ground could hear him.
Mr. Wood laughed heartily before jokingly shaking his fist at his son and flying after the other Chasers to the opposite side of the small pitch.
Flint captured the Snitch (one charmed to stay within a certain area, like the ones I had seen in the window at the Quidditch Supply shop) after about half an hour, securing a win for Oliver's team. The crowd clapped politely before heading back inside, where it was warm. We former classmates waited on the sidelines for our friends, who joined us, still excited by their predicted win. The boys led the way back into the Woods' home and into the large room where the party was taking place.
Joan joined me at the rear of the group. Made a bit paranoid by Rose's warnings, I kept Joan involved in a conversation about her experiences at St. Mungo's so that she wouldn't have a chance to pick her own subject matter. We continued the chat once we'd entered the room, which was less crowded than it had been during dinner. Several people were hovering nearby Mr. and Mrs. Wood, trying to appear as if they weren't waiting for their chance to thank their hosts and to excuse themselves from the party.
Evan interrupted my talk with Joan to ask her to dance, which I urged her to accept. She did so, although she looked a little hurt by my apparent excitement to get rid of her. I smiled and told her that I didn't want to take time away from Evan, which he laughingly thanked me for. Joan accepted the excuse and joined her boyfriend on the dance floor, which held several couples, mainly middle-aged.
I stood in place, uncertain what I should do. I glanced over at the table that I'd eaten dinner at, but no one was sitting there, and I didn't really feel like sitting alone, waiting for someone to join me. I glanced at my watch, noting that it was a little after three. Seeing a good reason to be tired allowed everything that had happened to catch up with me, and I yawned. Carefully surveying the room, I finally spotted Oliver with his back to me, getting a late-night snack at a table with Adam and Mark. The knot in my stomach gave me one more reason to call it a night, and I walked over, intending to thank him for extending his cousin's invitation and for the nice evening.
I would have done exactly that had I not caught my name while approaching the group of three friends. I stopped in my tracks, and none of the boys noticed that I had approached. I moved a little closer so that I could hear their conversation, justifying my eavesdropping by telling myself that, if they were talking about me, I had a right to know what they were saying. The truth is that I probably would have considered eavesdropping even if I hadn't heard my name.
"You saw how quickly she ran away, Adam," Oliver said, holding a cookie (not one of mine), but not seeming very interested in eating it.
"It was almost time for the fireworks. I would have run, too, mate," Adam said before taking a bite of something.
Oliver shook his head. "No. Believe me, she was running from me." He brought a hand up to his forehead. "I shouldn't have asked her if there was still a chance 'for us'," he mimicked himself.
Mark started laughing, although, to be fair, he did try to mask the laugh by pretending to cough loudly. "Sorry, Wood," he apologized. "I'm sure that had nothing to do with it," Mark lied, turning his head to search the table for something to eat.
Oliver turned his head to glare at Mark, and I froze to avoid being caught in the act of listening when I shouldn't have been. Fortunately, Oliver turned his gaze back to the food.
"She's hardly looked at me since then," Oliver continued, finally taking a bite out of the cookie.
"She's hardly been around you since then," Mark reasoned.
"What should I do?" Oliver asked, putting a hand on the table and leaning forward to shift his weight off his legs.
Adam shrugged. "You could tell her how you feel," he said simply with a mouth half-full of food.
"How do you feel?" Mark asked, looking over at his friend, barely managing not to laugh.
Oliver didn't notice Mark's amusement. "I love her," he said, sounding as if he was surrendering.
A large smile spread across my face without my thinking about it as I ignored the tone of voice, hearing only the words. Hell, I understood the tone of his voice. We both were giving in. Our whole relationship involved giving in. We'd given into our assumptions during our fight during our second year. We'd given into loneliness when we became friends during seventh year. We'd given into our feelings later that year. No one else on Earth at that moment could have understood why Oliver sounded so defeated as I did.
"Oh Merlin… don't say you never stopped loving her," Mark said completely seriously, the smile on his face turning into a mocking grimace.
Adam nodded, laughing. "It's cliché," he added.
Oliver started to turn his body so that he could glare at his friends a bit more effectively and possibly so that he could walk away from them. Why he turned wasn't really important at the time. What was important was that I was about to get caught eavesdropping. I had to either run or say something.
"I never stopped," I said quickly, loudly and clearly enough to be heard by all three boys standing in front of me.
My smile only slightly faltered when all of them spun around, Oliver the most quickly, and I realized what I had just said. No one responded to my outburst, and I didn't take my eyes away from Oliver. At first, he looked nothing if not horrified, and blood rushed into his cheeks. But, as he saw my smile, the horror started to be replaced with hope.
"What?" Oliver asked after several seconds, a smile starting to play at his own lips.
"I loved you," I said, trying to sound calm. "…And I never stopped."
Again, silence fell between the four of us. Oliver's smile grew bigger, and I took a moment to glance over at Mark and Adam, who were also grinning, although still looking surprised.
Adam looked over at Mark. "I'll be damned," he said simply and sincerely.
Mark didn't take his eyes off me. "Why didn't you say something sooner? You were killing the poor bloke," he motioned towards Oliver.
I followed Mark's gesture and looked back at Oliver, who was still staring.
I laughed, releasing some of my nerves so that my voice wouldn't shake. I was scared. Not scared that things weren't going to turn out well. Not scared that I was going to be rejected. I was scared by the possibilities of what would happened after everything did turn out well.
"Because I'm stupid," I said, answering Mark's question. "And because I'm stubborn. And proud as hell." I let my broad, idiotic smile show a bit of an apology. "But mainly stupid."
All of us looked to Oliver for a response, but he was unable or unwilling to give one at the moment.
"She's not the only stupid one," Mark said to Oliver.
"No," Oliver admitted before laughing.
Oliver beamed down at me, but he didn't move. After several seconds of nothing happening, Adam finally snapped.
"Just kiss her!" he said impatiently.
Oliver nodded once before taking the few steps necessary to reach me. He put his arms around me so that his hands were on my back before pulling me to him, bending down and bringing his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around his neck, convincing myself that everything was really happening…and that it should be happening.
After a minute, I pulled away a little and put my hands lightly on both sides of Oliver's face. "Please don't screw it all up this time. It will take another five years to fix everything. And I don't like the five years between when we're friends."
Oliver smiled sweetly, drawing me even closer to him. "It's your turn to screw up."
I laughed. "Don't let me screw it up, or I probably will."
"That's probably true," Mark interjected.
Oliver shook his head, still looking down at me. (He didn't have much of a choice. His face was still between my hands.) "She won't."
I stood up on my toes and leaned my head to the side to kiss him again.
"For Merlin's sake…" Adam said. "If we don't stop them, they're going to be worse than Flint and Rose."
All of us laughed, and Mark and Adam jokingly walked on either side of Oliver and took him by the arms. They pulled him a few steps away from me, although he didn't look away.
Oliver remained a captive of Mark and Adam just long enough to ask, "Will you dance with me, Laura?"
I nodded without any hesitation. "Yes."
Mark and Adam let go so that Oliver could lead me to the dance floor. I glanced back to smile at them thankfully and spotted Mr. Wood standing near where everything had taken place. He was watching Oliver and me seriously, his gaze stern, and I suspected that I hadn't been the only eavesdropper that night. I gave him a small smile. At first, I was met only by coldness. Then Mr. Wood looked down and turned his back on us. My smile disappeared, but not for long. Oliver stopped walking and faced me, putting one hand on my lower back before bending down to kiss me quickly.
As Oliver took my hand that wasn't on his shoulder to dance, we heard a loud noise of excitement coming from across the room. Although the noise stopped instantly, it gained Oliver's attention and mine. We began dancing, but did not move in a circle as Oliver had taught me to do five years previously. Instead, we both intently watched Joan, who had taken the lead from Evan and was turning their dance into a trek across the floor towards Oliver and me. It took her longer to reach us than it should have; box steps are not the most efficient way of traveling.
When Joan and Evan finally came up next to us, Joan, smiling madly, stopped dancing and drew Oliver and me into a large hug. Oliver and I let go of each other's hands to return her hug. She pulled away quickly, taking our hands and pushing them back together. Oliver squeezed my hand and grinned, but we faced our friend instead of continuing our dance.
"Oh, I'm so happy that the two of you finally came to your senses!" she said, tears entering her eyes.
"You can stop plotting against us now," Oliver said laughingly.
Joan looked at him, her eyes widening out of indignation. "I was not plotting against you two."
Oliver and I gave her skeptical looks.
"I was plotting for you," she muttered, grinning up at us.
"I was helping," Evan admitted. He reached out and hit Oliver in the shoulder sympathetically. "I was actually going to feel badly for putting you through it, Wood."
"You wouldn't have felt badly," Oliver countered.
"No, probably not." Evan laughed, sounding insanely like his older brother.
"So when's the wedding?" Joan asked seriously, looking at me.
I turned bright red, but I couldn't help laughing. "It's kind of early—"
"Early? He fell in love with you ten years ago."
"Ten years?" Oliver asked quickly.
"Yeah, when you were first starting school," Joan said.
Oliver shook his head. "That's not true," he said quickly.
Joan looked surprised, but she recovered quickly. "Anyway, there will be a wedding, right?"
Oliver and I didn't say anything. I glanced up at him to see him peeking down at me. Both of us started turning red and looked away, which made all four of us laugh.
"There will be a wedding," Joan said quite seriously to Evan after the laughter had died down. "I didn't go through all of that work during our seventh year for nothing."
"If we leave them alone, maybe he'll ask her," Evan suggested, looking over at the two of us and giving us a quick grin. I thought that Adam probably would have winked, but Evan was a bit more subtle than his brother.
Joan laughed and looked at Evan. "Are you telling me I should leave them alone?"
"Would I tell you that?" Evan joked.
Joan rolled her eyes at him before looking directly at me. "I'll leave, but I'd better have a good spot to watch the wedding. And I don't mean a seat in the front row."
I grinned. "I know what you mean."
"And…?" she prompted.
"I don't think you're supposed to request to be a bridesmaid at—" Evan started.
"Oh, is that what you're talking about?" Oliver interjected. "Well, hell, who else would we make the Matron of Honor?"
I slowly moved my head to look at him questioningly.
"Hypothetically," Oliver added quickly.
Joan almost giggled. "Let's leave these two alone, Evan," she said as if it had been her idea. "Have a nice night, you two."
The couple ended up deciding to leave for the night, and they quickly thanked Oliver for inviting them, promising that they'd come again the following year.
As I hugged Joan goodbye, I whispered, "Thanks for being so nosy." I smiled at her gratefully as we pulled out of the hug.
"I'm only so nosy because I care," Joan said so that all of us could hear her.
Evan laughed even harder than I did. He put his hand on his girlfriend's back and started to lead her away. "I hear that every day," he said over his shoulder as the couple left Oliver and me alone in the middle of the dance floor.
"Do you think she really was coming up with a plan for how to get us back together?" I asked, moving my eyes off the retreating couple and back to the man holding my hand.
"I have no doubts that she was," Oliver said completely seriously.
I grinned. "We're lucky we had her."
Oliver nodded. "We wouldn't be standing here, together, without her," he acknowledged.
"We'll make it up to her someday."
He nodded again, smiling broadly.
I let go of his hand so that I could put both of my hands behind his head. I stood up on my toes to meet him halfway as he leaned down to kiss me. After several seconds, Oliver wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer and closer to him, turning our kiss into an ardent hug. I didn't protest; on the contrary, I slid my arms more around his shoulders so that I could hug him back. I didn't care that the two of us were standing in the middle of a still semi-crowded room in his parents' house. It had been a long time since he'd hugged me so fervently, and I didn't want him to let go.
"Laura?" Oliver asked.
"Oliver?" I said gently, placing my forehead against the hollow between his neck and his collarbone.
"I didn't fall in love with you ten years ago."
I smiled. "I know that."
"It was nine. I was a second year."
I blinked and moved back only far enough to be able to see his eyes. "You're lying."
Oliver shook his head slightly. "No. Second year. I won't say that I never stopped…."
"You're not lying," I said, pulling back just a little more to take in his whole face. "But…you can't fall in love when you're twelve."
He shrugged his shoulders a little, moving my arms that were resting on them. "You fell in love at fourteen. What's the difference?"
"I…don't know. Two years. …I wasn't even thinking about this kind of thing when we were twelve."
"I wasn't thinking about it. I didn't think about it for years." He laughed to himself. "You know when I finally did think about it?"
"No."
"When you scared the shit out of me in the Forbidden Forest. It was like when we were kids, joking around with Percy. Well… joking around with Percy present."
"Percy used to joke around with us, too."
Oliver nodded shortly. "Anyway, I remembered how much I missed you at that point."
I lowered my eyebrows a little, skeptically. "You hid it well."
"No. There was just nothing left to hide. Like I said… I couldn't honestly tell you that I never stopped loving you after our second year."
I looked around us quickly. Younger and middle-aged couples without children were scattered throughout the room, talking, and Mr. and Mrs. Wood were still dealing with an unending queue of quests to thank for coming and to invite back to the festivities the following year. Adam and Tara were standing at our table, Adam gathering their daughter's things and Tara holding the sleeping Claire. Cedar and Dave were sitting at the table, talking to Tara about something. Flint and Rose were flirting in a corner, and Mark was still at the table of food, searching for anything worthy of taking back to his flat. And Merlin only knew where Percy was.
…Everyone had changed so much since we'd started school. The relationships between us had changed. And I finally accepted it. We were different than we'd been at age eleven and twelve, but we weren't unrecognizable. And most of our relationships, though different, were still intact. The relationships that hadn't changed had fallen apart.
"I just thought you'd like to know," Oliver said after waiting for a response.
I snapped out of my thoughts and smiled as sweetly as I could. "I am glad to know."
"I shouldn't have said anything. I mean… it was a long time ago."
"It was." I smirked slightly, teasingly. "Of course, it was the only thing you've admitted to me tonight that has made me want to kiss you more than it's made me want to kick you."
"The only thing?" Oliver asked, taking one of his arms from around me so that he could bring a hand through some of my hair.
"Yes," I said plainly. "The others were…how you told you dad drunken stories about me, how you didn't write to warn me about the danger you thought I was in, how you broke up with me for…very complicated reasons that I still don't understand, and for…um…."
"Being a horrible friend," Oliver helped.
"Right."
"Those are rather kick worthy offenses," he said, shrugging slightly again before moving his hand under my chin.
"Yes," I agreed.
"Though you apologized for some…rather heavy stuff, as well."
"Yes," I said more reluctantly.
He laughed under his breath at me before asking, "I haven't admitted anything else to you that's made you want to kiss me?"
I furrowed my brow, trying to think of something, but he interrupted my concentration.
"I haven't admitted that I love you?" he asked softly.
My heat skipped a beat. A smile lit my face quickly while my cheeks grew hot. "I think you might have told Mark and Adam."
He moved his hand from under my chin to my cheek. "I love you."
Simple. Three words. Three words that I'd heard from him… from a couple other men, my family and some close friends. Surely by now, after people have used the words so many times when they didn't really mean it or when they weren't really thinking about what they were saying, the phrase means very little. But to me, at that moment, the phrase wasn't worn out. It wasn't a cliché because in those words he'd said more than a cliché ever could. At that moment, those words meant… everything worth saying or worth feeling or hearing or touching or tasting. At that moment, the scene didn't remind me of every 'I love you' scene in any romance novel or movie because it wasn't like any of them.
"And I love you."
"I never stopped," he said, grinning in a way that showed me that the three words had meant just as much to him.
"Except after our second year," I reminded him.
He laughed loudly. "OK," he conceded.
I brought both of my arms from his shoulders and cupped his face, drawing closer to him.
"I'll never stop," I whispered.
Oliver didn't respond in words. He didn't have to.
Author's Note:
Only an epilogue left to wrap up a few loose ends, but this is the end of the main part of the story! I can hardly believe it's almost done. Expect a long author's note after the epilogue. Until then, I'll thank Marie (electronicquillster on Mugglenet. Read her story.) for all of her help with these last three chapters, and I'll thank all of the people who have given me their support. I can't say how much it has helped without using clichés, so I'll let a simple 'Thank you!' say it all.