Chapter 8: Quidditch Cup
The next few days were normal. I worried a little that what I had told Oliver would change how he treated me but it didn't. However, Percy and Oliver started bickering again, perhaps more than they did before Oliver said he would stop.
I just let them go at it. I knew that N.E.W.T.s were closer than I realized, and I was focusing on doing well on them, so I could get a good job. I wanted to work for The Daily Prophet and competition over positions there was fierce.
About five days after Oliver had shown me the Snitches, I was standing in that small hallway that doesn't go anywhere, near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. I was looking out over the lake, barely even thinking.
"You're in my spot."
I turned to see Oliver smiling a few feet away.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I'll leave."
"No. I was only kidding." He walked up next to me to look out over the lake as well. "It's a great view, isn't it?"
"Yes," I said, turning back towards the window. "I can't believe I never really took the time to look out of these windows in the past seven years."
Oliver didn't say anything.
I looked up at him. He appeared calm as he looked out over Hogwarts' grounds.
"What?" he asked after a minute, not turning from the window.
"I don't know," I answered honestly.
He smiled a little.
"What?" I asked.
"I don't know either," he answered, laughing.
I looked out the window and smiled.
Oliver put his hand on the windowsill next to mine.
I looked down and then up into his face again.
"What?" he asked, laughing again and moving his hand away.
I didn't answer. I just looked back out the window. After a few minutes, I asked, "Have we ever talked about anything… good?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we always either talk about that fight or something bad that happened after the fight. Have we ever talked about something good?"
"I don't know." He thought for a minute. "We've talked about being friends."
"And about how we never thought that would happened because of the fight," I said.
"Isn't it good that we can talk about bad things?"
"Yes," I answered. "But can we talk about good things? That's the true test of friendship, isn't it? Anyone can complain."
"We've talked about good things with the other Seventh Years."
"Yes."
"You're doubting our friendship, or—" Oliver started, looking a little hurt.
"No," I interrupted.
"Then what?"
"I just want to hear about good things in your life, too, is all."
He sighed.
"I'm getting too girly-emotional on you."
He laughed. "Maybe a little, but I'll let you know when it gets annoying."
"Then why did you sigh?"
"Because I'm not sure if I have many happy things to tell you about."
I furrowed my brow, frowning. "That's what I was afraid of."
After a few seconds, he started talking. "My parents. They're the constant happy thing in my life. Especially my dad. I love Mum and everything, but she's more protective. That's why I talk to my Dad. He'll listen and tell me what he honestly thinks. I'm happy when I'm talking to him."
I smiled and nodded. "And what did he honestly think about you becoming friends with me?"
"Doesn't that qualify as a topic under the fight?" Oliver asked, smiling tauntingly.
"Yes," I admitted. "OK. The constant happy thing in my life is… are my parents, too. I don't tell them everything, by any means, but I do like talking to them. They're very supportive, I guess. Most of the time."
There was a short silence.
"The Quidditch match is tomorrow," Oliver said.
"I know. I just didn't want to bring it up if you didn't want to talk about it," I admitted.
"I think we can win."
"I know you can."
I looked up at him and he looked down, smiling.
"You aren't just saying that," he said.
"Of course not. Your team can win. It's not like you have to worry about Malfoy catching the Snitch. Like you've been telling us for weeks, you only have to worry about Harry catching the Snitch too soon."
Oliver shook his head. "No. He won't. I've pounded that into his head, at least."
"You didn't threaten the poor kid, did you?"
"No, not that my threats should mean anything to him. I think he's still terrified that a dementor will come into the stadium, even though Professor Dumbledore gave me his word that that would not happen."
"Then you've nothing to worry about," I said.
"I've said that many times that I shouldn't have."
"But this time I'm saying it."
Oliver brought his hand up towards my face, but before reaching it, brought his hand down to my arm and brushed at the sleeve of my cloak a few times.
"You asked before if I would be happy if we lost the match tomorrow, and I've thought a lot about it," Oliver said.
"And will you be happy?" I asked.
"As long as I have my friends and family, I will be happy," he said.
I nodded. "I'm glad."
"Laura?"
"Yes?"
"Lately you've been a big part of that. I mean… you've become a good friend of mine, I think and…."
"And now that we are friends, we always will be," I said. I smiled. "I promise."
He smiled and then nodded. He looked out of the window a few seconds before taking a step away from the window. "I'm going to go back to the Common Room."
"OK," I said. "I'm going to stay here a while longer."
Oliver left me alone to think. And in the next half hour I knew what it was when I was looking at Oliver. I admitted to myself that I had, somehow, fallen for the person I'd hated only months before.
When I went back into the Common Room, everyone except Oliver was trying to forget about the match the next day. I watched Fred and George goof around while Oliver sat alone, moving figures of Quidditch players around a model of the Quidditch stadium.
The next morning, I ate breakfast with Percy. We went out to the stadium together to get seats in the very front. They weren't the best seats in the stadium, but I wanted to be near the stairs.
The players eventually came out. I took out my omnioculars to look at the players faces. They all looked extremely nervous. I couldn't blame them. I was nervous, too. Oliver and Flint shook hands and the match began.
I must say that I was a good fan for the first time in years. I usually just watched and clapped a few times during a match. During this match, I was chewing my fingernails when Slytherin was taking a penalty shot and jumping up and down when Oliver stopped them. I was hugging everyone around when Gryffindor pulled far enough ahead in points that Harry could catch the Snitch. I was yelling obscenities at the top of my lungs whenever Slytherin cheated. And when Gryffindor won I cheered even louder than I had yelled.
I immediately started heading for the stairs to congratulate the players. The winning team's house always stormed the field after the match. I saw Oliver hugging Harry before heading into the stairway. By the time I reached the bottom, all of the players were in a group hug on the ground. I was one of the first people to reach the team. I knew I had to be if I was going to be able to congratulate Oliver, as the whole team was undoubtedly going to be swarmed by people for hours.
The group hug was breaking up to welcome friends and classmates into the circle. Oliver turned away from them, and I could see him crying out of pure joy. I laughed before coming into his already open arms.
I squeezed him tightly.
"You won! Oliver, you won the Cup!" I yelled into his ear, starting to get teary-eyed myself.
Oliver lifted me off the ground and spun around in a circle quickly. "Thanks in part to you! Thank you," he said, setting me down again.
I barely had time to look into his eyes before he was swept up into a crowd of well-wishers. Oliver looked back once before being lifted up on people's shoulders. I joined the crowd as Gryffindor carried its team to Dumbledore, who gave Wood the Cup. Oliver quickly passed it over to Harry.
By now, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were on the field as well, celebrating the downfall of Slytherin. A Second or Third Year from one of the houses came up and hugged me. Normally I'd have been freaked out, but strangers were hugging all over the field, so I hugged her back, laughing.
"Tell Oliver Wood congratulations," she said, letting go of me.
"OK, I will," I said, nodding.
"And tell him, if it doesn't work out with you, I'm available," she said, laughing.
"What?" I asked.
"I saw you congratulate him. It's obvious," she said, moving to a different part of the mob.
So, I spent the slow trip back up to Gryffindor's common room worrying about how many people had figured out that I didn't only like Oliver as a friend. I worried whether someone had told him. I worried whether it had just become obvious and that some other girl would go after him before I had a chance to tell him… tell him? Was I kidding? Tell him that I thought I was falling in love with him? And scare him away? No, tell him that I wanted to try to be more than friends because I liked him. But if it was obvious, maybe he already knew. Maybe he was purposely ignoring any signs I was giving him, whatever those signs were.
Maybes such as these continued to float through my head for about an hour, when I realized that I was repeating most of them, and it was pointless consciously brewing over them. So I thoroughly joined Gryffindor's festivities. Fred and George had gotten snacks out of the kitchen, and people were lighting off gold and red fireworks, which lingered for a long time in the air.
Oliver was the center of the party and was enjoying it. I didn't like being near the center of things, as that's usually where things go wrong, so I stayed back with Joan, who was like me in that sense.
"I'm so proud of him," she said.
"Yes," I agreed, smiling and looking over towards where I knew he was.
"He needed that win."
"Yes."
"So, what does he need now?" Joan asked.
I looked over at her, confused. "What?"
"Surely he can't only have needed that win. What does he need now?"
I shrugged and smiled as much as I could. "I don't know. A crystal ball?"
She laughed. "Isn't it the best friend's job to know what he needs?"
"I'm not his best—"
"Who's your best friend?" Joan interrupted. "Follow me," she added.
We went over to a window and sat down on the sill, facing the party.
"So, who's your best friend?" she repeated.
"Perc…y," I said. I scrunched up my brow, thinking about the answer that had come to my lips automatically for years. Was it still true? "I don't know."
"If it isn't Percy, then who is it?"
"Oliver," I said, slowly. "Is that bad?"
"What?" Joan asked, her turn to be surprised by a question.
"I mean, does it say something bad about me that someone who I didn't like is now my best friend? Does that say something about how few friends I have?"
Joan thought a few seconds. "No, it doesn't. You have enough friends, Laura, for it not to be bad. One friend is enough for it not to be bad. I think it's good. I've enjoyed watching the two of you get used to being friends. It was… exciting, I think."
I laughed. "Exciting? It was rather uneventful."
"As far as exciting events happening, it was uneventful, yes. But it was exciting to see you two make up and forget about the past. I wanted that to happen for a long time."
"Why?" I asked, honestly more curious than I'd been in a while.
"Because he always needed you. Or Percy."
I looked away. "Don't make me feel guilty again, please. Every time… it seems like the fight and the years after it are all we ever talk about when we're talking about the two of us."
"What else would you talk about while talking about the two of you? Like it or not, it happened, and like it or not, neither one of you will ever be able to forget about it. Maybe talking about it makes it less important."
"How so?"
"You talk about everything in the past tense?"
"Yes."
"Well, then you're both acknowledging that it's done. I guess you could say… you're moving on."
I looked at her a little skeptically.
She ignored the look. "Do you know what he needs?" Joan asked again.
I shook my head again. "No, I don't. I know… now… he has everything that he needs."
Joan smiled. "I think he does, too. Almost."
"What else does he need, then? It's the best friend's job to know."
"Are you taking on that responsibility?" Joan asked.
"Taking on that responsibility? I'm hoping I've earned it and that he's given it to me."
Joan smiled broadly. "That was very deep, Laura. Pretty, I think."
I laughed. "Then I take it back."
"Can I be honest?" Joan asked.
"Sure."
"You don't want to be his best friend, do you?"
My smile faltered a little. "That's a question, not being honest."
"But I already know the answer."
"It is obvious," I said, frowning now.
"Obvious?"
"A twelve-year-old girl I don't even know told me it was obvious," I said. "How embarrassing."
"I don't see how it could be obvious that you like him. When did you figure it out?"
"I don't know. I don't want to talk about this."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't know."
"OK. Just let me say a few things, OK?"
"If I said no, it wouldn't stop you," I said.
Joan laughed. "No, it wouldn't."
"Get it over with, then."
"First off, I want you to tell him how you feel because I think it will turn out in a way good for you both, and I like watching your story."
I didn't say anything in her pause.
"Secondly—"
"Hey, girls, you're missing out on the fun."
Joan and I spun in towards the room quickly.
"Hello, Oliver," Joan said, obviously trying to be nonchalant.
Oliver nodded a little, looking slightly worried. "You two aren't conspiring against me or anything, are you?"
I smiled. "We were only talking."
"Hey, Oliver, good job!" Joan said.
"Thanks," Oliver said, beaming with pride.
"We're proud of you," she added.
I nodded my agreement.
Oliver laughed. "Well, I can be happy now, Laura."
"I'm glad."
A sixth year girl came up behind Oliver and hooked her arm in his, taking his hand. "Oliver. I lost you for a moment."
I recognized her. Her name was Ashley Putnum. She was popular and pretty. My smile dissolved quickly.
"Just talking to my friends," Oliver said, smiling down at her.
"Oh," Ashley said, with a little distaste. "Let's go back to the party."
"Yeah," Oliver said. He looked at Joan and me and smiled slightly. "I'll talk to you later, OK, girls?"
Joan and I nodded and Ashley pulled Oliver away.
"I guess he still only needs me as a friend, huh?" I asked, quietly.
Joan didn't answer immediately. "He'll always need us as his friends," she said, finally.
"And we'll always be his friends," I said.
"At least that, yes. Don't worry about her, Laura. I know him. She's not his type."
"Isn't she? The Quidditch captain and the popular Sixth Year?"
"Why not the two best friends?"
"Joan, you don't have to try to make me feel better. I have no claim on him. And I've been the friend to boys for years. I got used to that right away. I chose it."
Joan sighed. "How do you know what Oliver wants?"
I motioned towards the group of celebrators. "I found it fairly obvious."
"I didn't. I see how he looks at you."
I shook my head. "I care enough about him to be his friend, no matter what."
"And that's why he'll pick you."
"Pick me? I don't need him to pick me."
"Just wait. I've never been wrong about Oliver. Just wait." Joan got up and walked into the crowd.
I didn't feel much like celebrating. I went upstairs to try to escape the noise. Luckily, I was tired enough that I didn't need to pout over Oliver. I feel asleep fairly easily.
[Author's Note: Short chapter. My apologizes. It was a natural chapter break.
Thank you to all of the people who have been reading this sorry, and especially to those of you who have reviewed. For those of you who have written your own stories, you know how encouraging good feedback (or feedback at all) can be. :)
Coming up in the next chapter: Oliver and Percy finally start to take steps to end the five-year long fight. But how long will their efforts really last? And how will Laura deal with keeping her feelings to herself?]