Bludgers and Broken Broomsticks

*Please Read Author's Note*

Oliver seemed to purposely distance himself from me for the next several months. When he saw me, he would turn away quickly and either engage in conversation with a nearby student in his grade, or walk as fast as he could in the other direction. Sera, of course, danced around the dorm for an hour when I confided the incident in the hospital wing to her, and maintained, even as the last week of term rolled around, that he was just being shy and that he liked me, too. I wouldn’t believe her, but she said she had her sources, which I somehow believed.

I, however, seemed to be running into Oliver even more than before. Without thinking, I found myself purposely going out of my way to walk in the same hallways as he had to, even if I had to walk behind him so he wouldn’t rush off. More than ever, I found myself falling for him.

“He’s leaving,” I realized aloud one night, after all the other girls but Sera and I, who were both on my bed, had fallen asleep.

“Huh?” Sera asked, looking up from painting her toenails.

“Oliver,” I said with emphasis, so that she perked up immediately, “is leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“At the end of the year!” I said in a loud whisper, exasperatedly. “He’s a seventh year, isn’t he? And in one week, he will be officially done at Hogwarts, when we still have to come back for another two years of torturous school work and sadistic, homework-assigning professors!”

“Maddy,” Sera tried, a consoling tone in her voice as I lay my head dejectedly on my pillow.

“I want to tell him so bad,” I whispered, fighting the urge to cry valiantly, failing only slightly as my vision blurred a bit. “I want to tell him how much I like him, before he gets all famous, and dates all those other women, and becomes one of the best looking players in the International Quidditch League. I want to tell him before he leaves, but I don’t know how, and even if I did, I’m not a Gryffindor. I wouldn’t have the courage.”

“Being a Gryffindor’s got nothing to do with this and you know it,” Sera told me in a scolding tone. “You’re scared of rejection, Maddy, that’s the only thing wrong with you.

“Kind of like you,” I retorted, referring to the fact that, even though she saw her Muggle boy-toy over the Christmas and Easter holidays, she still hadn’t told him.

She flushed, but said, “Yes, like me. But you, unlike me, have your eyes set on a wizard, not a muggle. And you have common ground with Oliver, Maddy. You two are the best bloody Quidditch players in Hogwarts. If you don’t get a chance to tell him now, you’ll see him in two years, when you go pro.”

“How d’you know I’ll make it pro?” I asked, burying my face deeper into my pillow. “How do you know some amazing…American, or Canadian…won’t come and take up all the empty spots, even on reserve teams, before I get there?”

“They won’t,” Sera shook her head, “because it’s hard to get better than the best.”

I flushed, and said softly, “I’m not the best.”

“You’re damn close, then.”

We fell silent, and I rolled over to stare at the ceiling.

*

Every time I closed my eyes over that last week of term, I saw his smile behind the lids. That winning grin of his, that made me sparkle-eyed and weak in the knees. The grin I hadn’t been able to see since around Christmas, because he’d been avoiding me like I was the plague.

Was that what I was to him? A plague? A parasite that he didn’t want to get any nearer to for fear that he, too, would be infected with whatever it is I’d caught?

I knew it was thinking illogically, but I couldn’t help it. I was in this way to deep.

*

And before I knew it, the last day of term had passed, and my trunk was packed and ready to go. And a few hours later, it was in a rack above my head in the compartment on the Hogwarts Express that I shared with Jon, Ree, Sera, Chase, and the rest of our Quidditch team. It made for a packed, cheerful environment, even when my heart was dropping a few inches with every kilometer we left between us and Hogwarts.

While everyone else was chatting merrily amongst each other, I was sitting, staring out the window, and thinking.

I could tell Oliver how I felt. That was option number one; I could tell Oliver that I was falling for him, and ask him whether he’d give me a chance or not. I could tell him that I’ve fallen for him even harder in the time since Christmas, even though he’d been avoiding me.

Or, I could not talk to him at all, which was option two.

I don’t think my heart can bear rejection…but I think it would like option two even less.

“Maddy?” Sera asked softly, when we stepped out of our compartment to find the nearest train bathrooms. “Maddy, you’ve been thinking.”

“Dear Captain Obvious, Thank You. Sincerely, Lieutenant Sarcasm,” I retorted, as sarcastically as the sentence implies.

“What about?”

I sighed, saying softly, “Oliver.”

“Have you decided anything?” Sera asked, looking me in the eye unabashedly. “Have you decided if you’re going to tell him, or are you just going to hurt yourself by leaving this alone?”

“I’m telling him,” I said softly, “just not at this moment.”

She seemed satisfied with the answer for the time being, and we continued on our way.

*

This is it, I told myself, spotting Oliver’s retreating back, still far enough away from his parents that they hadn’t spotted him yet. I excused myself quickly from my team, whispering just one word - “now” - to Sera, before making my way quickly across the platform.

I caught his sleeve, and he turned around.

“Yeah - oh, hi, Daniels.”

“Oliver, I, uh, I’ve got something I want to say to you,” I said quickly, looking away for a brief moment before meeting his eyes.

“Oh, uh, sure. What is it?”

“I…well, the thing is, I…” I couldn’t do it! After all the prep, I couldn’t do it! “I wanted to wish you luck. You’ll be great for Puddlemere.”

Stupid Maddy!

“Oh, okay,” he said slowly, turning. He took a few steps away.

“Oliver!” I called, rushing back up to him.

Before I could think about what I was doing, before I let myself register that at least thirty people might see it, and before I could talk myself out of it, I took a fistful of his shirt and pulled myself up to my tip-toes with it, pressing my lips firmly against Oliver’s. I let them linger there for several long seconds, before dropping to the soles of my feet, flushing brightly, and looking back into his gorgeous eyes.

“I never hated you,” I told him softly.

His cheeks were flushed, his mouth working as though he was trying to find the words to say.

I turned and ran.