Blue Skies

He stared up at the ceiling of his new flat. It was white. No personality and boring. Perhaps that mirrored himself. He felt rather empty. He moved here to feel more connected to the world but somehow he felt more alone. His team was based in Dorset, he had grown restless of the place a while ago. Dorset was a quiet place for families which a lot of his team mates seem to have. He hadn't ever felt the need to move because he spent most of his life working. He should be working right now in fact. It was probably the first time that he had missed work. 

He needed tea. He pulled on his dressing gown and walked through to the open space of a place that didn't really exist to the average eye. He had been desperate to move so he wouldn't have minded a cardboard box. He had a lot of nice things because that's what successful people did right?

He poured himself a cup of tea. No milk. He hated this place. The milk situation was totally his fault yet he still wanted to find fault with probably the most perfect flat that ever existed. He drank his black tea on a sofa which was slightly too hard for his taste. Why weren't comfortable things in fashion anymore? They probably never were.

His fire seemed to roar into life. He wanted a fire in his new place. Something to connect him with the world but mostly because he thought it was homely. He was reminded of the Gryffindor common room. The fire burnt green and he wished he never got a fireplace. He knew that she would be coming to see him. Izzy slipped out of the fire, she looked graceful and immaculate  as ever. 

"Get dressed, Oliver,"

"No." he said dumbly. If he didn't want to get dressed then this was his stupidly flashy flat then he was going to lounge around in his dressing gown all he liked. He realized how childish that he sounded but he didn't care. 

"You know I got an owl this morning to enquire if you've died and I had forgotten to mention it," she started, "You missed training,"

He was well aware of that. His little rebellion. He was serious about quitting Quidditch.  He always had been. Scotland had lost in the semi-final of the World Cup. He felt like life had decided to cut him loose. The universe was obviously trying to tell him something. The defeat didn't make him want to work harder now. He did everything right in the game. His best wasn't good enough. 

"I was serious about quitting Quidditch,"

"You love quidditch, your whole life is Quidditch. You're going through a tough time but honestly you came out of the World Cup looking great. The PR was amazing,"

He wondered if chucking her out of here was too dramatic. She's his manager but saying the PR was great wasn't going to win him the cup and it wasn't going to make him any happier either. 

"Is this all really about that girl?" she asked suddenly, "all of this is very sudden you know? Suddenly realized there is more to life than just quidditch have you?"

"It's not about her," he said grumpily. He didn't like the tone of this conversation at all. Isolde was the best but she had a habit of treating clients like kids. Isolde was a fixer but maybe she couldn't fix this. 

It was definitely not about Lavender. It's not as the decision had already been made before but she was just the tiniest peak at something he deserved a chance at. Something away from quidditch, she was just a little ray of light from behind a big cloud he was faced with. Her eyes shone with the type of inner peace that he could only have dreams about at the cup final. It helped that she was also charming, educated and funny even while having a bit too much champagne. She had made that champagne taste like victory again on what was a really tough night for him. 

"I tried my best in that tournament and it wasn't good enough. My life is training and quidditch. I gave my whole life to be the best and now I'm not even the best. I'm tired. Really really fucking tired okay?"

Isolde took a breath. A rare skip of her normal rapid monologue. She just stared for a moment at him as if trying to figure out a plan.

"We're saying you're injured. Before you say that you don't want to lie to your fans, if they know you won't find any peace. You wouldn't get the chance to figure out if this is what you really want. You need more time with no prying eyes,"  

He considered for a moment. He didn't like to lie. He wasn't who he was. He had always been totally himself in any situation. He could be opinionated and blunt sometimes but somehow he always knew what to say. He didn't really have words right now. He had enough of this conversation. Isolde would make quitting a long hard process. Everyone would. He just weakly nodded at her suggestion for now. 

"I want a short statement to the media, very brief. No promises, just that you'll be taking some time out due to an unexpected injury. Thank the fans but give no further comment on the situation," 

"Okay,"

Oliver hadn't even bothered to ask how she was going to smooth it out with the club. Isolde would find a way. She always did. Now that she was gone, He felt a bit silly sitting around in his dressing gown. He wanted some things to change but nothing was going to change him out of being an active person. He needed to get the shower, get dressed then at least go buy some damn milk. 

*

Finally a sheet of darkness fell around the city. He needed to get out of here. He had sat around for too much of the day feeling sorry for himself. He needed a drink but he didn't fancy any of his usual places. He knew that he was longing for another place, maybe he should go out into muggle London instead. He wasn't a huge drinker but he needed a beer.

 He should have been grumpy enough not to notice how much he loved London. It wasn't beautiful in quite the same way as other cities. It's energy was it's exciting heartblood though. The buzz between people wasn't quite like anything else he knew. London never felt calm, always felt on the edge. He was one of those people who was always on the move so maybe that's why London suited him even after only a month; a bit that clicked so deeply with a part of himself. 

The bar was noisy. People were just going about their everyday lives. Maybe what he needed was to lose himself completely for this one night. He thought of the thump of the beat in a club. There were no tables to sit alone at a club. He down the pint that he had just sat down with. He wasn't familiar with muggle London but he was bound to find somewhere suitable. 

After a little wandering about he settled on a place. It was odd not to be recognised that that's what he wanted after all. It meant he had to wait in line, another small novelty that he enjoyed. He ordered a shot as soon as he was inside. The alcohol burned as it went down the back of his throat.

He was ready to let the night take him.

"Another please," He said as the bartender poured clear liquid into a shot glass. 

"I'll take that," said a short brunette as she downed the shot before he could get a word in. "I needed that, thanks, are you coming to dance?"

He took a second to consider the idea. He was probably a bit too sober to dance normally but he also not so secretly loved to dance. His mum used to have a sign that said ‘dance like nobody's watching'. She found it on a family holiday once, he wasn't sure if it meant to be ironic but she insisted that the sign lived in the kitchen for the last ten years or so. Oliver decided that he was definitely too sober to dance but he wants to do it regardless.

"Lead the way,"

*

Man, where the fuck was he?

This is why he shouldn't go to muggle bars to drown his sorrows. Oliver felt the light against his eyes like he wasn't quite ready for it. He lifted his head a bit to figure out where he was. It was a small and very messy flat. A short brunette wearing nothing but a vest top and lace pants walked by him. That's not good.

"I thought you had died," she said casually

What kinda person was that chilled about a potential dead person to be in their flat? 

"I'm still alive"  his head hurt way too much. He was most definitely alive. "Where am I?"

"My flat,"

That's probably the unhelpful thing that she could have possibly said. He knew that she was somewhat enjoying the situation. She's a tiny bit evil. Interesting. 

He didn't like not having control of the situation. He didn't even know if she was a muggle or not. The flat looked like a muggle flat. Maybe he shouldn't have freedom because he clearly didn't know how to handle it. Oliver needs coffee and he never drank coffee. 

"I'm Archer or Archie by the way,"

"What kind of name is Archer?"

"A surname,"

"You're real grumpy this morning,"

 He couldn't even work out what vibes this conversation had. It doesn't feel sexually charged though. It felt a little playful but like friends who didn't know each other yet.  He really hopes he didn't hook up with her. He had completely lost himself like he wanted though. Literally lost himself. The stranger had a name but the question 'where was he?' still remained firmly on his mind.  

"Well people tend to be in a better mood when they're drinking don't they?" 

"I think that depends on who you ask, I think I may have some hangover potion here still if you want?"

He felt himself flood with a relief that he didn't quite expect. Mostly he was still on solid ground. Solid ground was good. He could deal with that. 

"You're a witch!"

"Yup but been pretending to be a muggle for the past six months," 

"Why are you pretending to be a muggle?"

Apart from all the real questions he could be asking. He couldn't help this flame of curiosity that had creeped up on him. It hadn't been that long since the war. Rebuilding was still an issue for a lot of people. Memories just didn't die. He knew his hadn't. He had pieced back his life more easily than most when the quidditch league had begun again a few months after the war at hogwarts. There was no space for anything else in his mind but quidditch. He wouldn't make space for those darker memories. He liked that he was helping others forget for even the tiniest moment while they followed the sport again too. As much as Quidditch was preying on his mind as a negative thing. It had saved him. Maybe that's what gave him a little hope that he would fall in love with it again at some point.  

"The short version, my girlfriend. She's a muggle. I think I might love her enough not to bring her into the dumpster fire that is our world,"

"Fair enough," He said. There wasn't more to say. He got the feeling that this wasn't something that Archie wanted to go into further. Archie spoke so casually yet she suddenly felt like all cold edges. A little spike of pain that infected what seemed to be her feisty and passionate personality. 

"Maybe you should get some trousers on before Poppy gets home," 

He looked down as realized for the first time that he wasn't wearing any trousers. He wasn't really wearing anything apart from his boxers. He felt like he should clarify if they hooked up but it seemed pretty unlikely at this point.

"Maybe you could do that too," He laughed. She grinned. 

"Deal," she said. She walked off. He assumed she went to find some suitable trousers. How she found anything in this mess was a mystery to him. He spotted his jeans flung over the arm of the sofa. "Incase you're wondering, you took those off on your own. I'll have you know that I'm very gay but you couldn't remember where you lived so I saved your arse."

Phew, maybe she could read minds. As he had only just been wondering that. Where in London that seemed less important now. As long as he was still in London. He hadn't considered that he wasn't but the buzz of activity outside led him to the quick conclusion that he was. Those were the sounds of London. He would know it anywhere.

"I guess I owe you breakfast then?"

"Hell yeah! I know just the place. Camden has amazing food options,"

She could definitely read minds.