Chapter 20
Now…
“So, things went well regarding Quidditch after that first match I take it?” His therapist asked, smiling kindly at him.
Oliver shrugged non-committedly, “I suppose so, my mother stayed away which probably helped, and I wouldn’t have any more injuries until that rogue bludger with Potter a couple years later. Truthfully, the first half of my first Quidditch season was a blur, I was occupied with a few other things…”
Then…
Oliver had spent the last few weeks keeping busy. His class work and Quidditch matches as well as practices filled most of his time. He spent the remainder of his time rifling through dusty trophies in the trophy room.
The attitude he had given Snape wasn’t going unpunished either. Every potions class, the head of Slytherin house made it his mission to not wander too far away from Oliver and his cauldron. He made nasty comments about the state of Oliver’s various potions no matter if it was actually correct or not. Really, Snape was beginning to remind him of his mother.
His mother, who had not contacted him in any way since the Hospital wing. To be fair, Oliver hadn’t written to her about his great saves in the few previous Quidditch matches, one of which had been the rematch against Slytherin. Gryffindor had yet to suffer a loss and Oliver had never felt more pride in himself or his team. He wasn’t sure if his mother’s silence was good or not. He supposed it was but…it also made it seem like she was a dementor lingering silently in the shadows waiting to strike.
“Look, it's the first snow of the season!” Charlie exclaimed excitedly, looking out one of Gryffindor Towers windows.
It was Saturday, and Oliver sat near him on a cozy chair in the common room, finishing a long and boring essay for History of Magic. The clouds had looked like snow when they were on the Quidditch pitch earlier for practice. The poor Hufflepuff’s practice time was probably going to be difficult due to the flurries that were only increasing in size.
“Guess winter is coming early,” Oliver commented, not looking up from his essay.
“Do you think about anything other than Quidditch?” Fred asked teasingly from the adjoining couch.
“I didn’t say anything about Quidditch,” Oliver grumbled, dipping his quill in ink
“No, but you were thinking it weren’t you,” George added with a knowing look.
Oliver sighed and took a moment to glare at them. “Maybe,” He grumbled, returning to his essay.
It was annoying sometimes, how well his friends knew him. Unlike most kids, whose first thoughts of snow would be snowball fights, hot cocoa, and building snowmen, Oliver was thinking about visibility conditions, flight patterns, and icy winds on a Quidditch pitch. Winter was going to make the Quidditch season much more difficult.
Oliver was able to finish up his essay, sighing with relief and leaning back in his chair. He still had a little bit of time before lunch…he could return to the trophy room hunting for a scrap of information about his father. The damn room was enormous and filled to the brim with glass cases of awards, trophies, certificates, Oliver felt silly thinking that the library had been difficult.
“Want to grab some lunch, Ollie?” Charlie asked, leaving his spot by the window and smiling down at Oliver.
“Uh…yeah, sure, I just have to make a stop first for a bit if that’s okay?” Oliver asked hesitantly.
Charlie looked at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but nodded. “Yeah, I can tag along. Are you guys coming?” He asked Fred and George.
“We are otherwise occupied for the time being Charlie, sorry.” Fred said, grinning broadly.
Charlie eyed the twins warily, “Do I want to know?”
“Nope!” George said with a laugh, before he and Fred made a beeline for the portrait hole.
“You really don’t want to know,” Oliver added, heading for the portrait hole himself, with a sputtering Charlie in tow.
~~~//~~
“Oliver, how often have you been coming here?!” Charlie asked, eyes wide with surprise and exasperation.
They were heading toward the back of the trophy room, an area Charlie hadn’t rifled through yet, and Oliver was getting fed up. If his mother would just be a normal person and tell him about his father that would make things a hell of a lot easier. “Oh you know, just whenever I have free time,” Oliver replied, trying to act like this was a curious hobby and not an obsession.
He wasn’t obsessed…maybe really determined but certainly not obsessed.
Right…?
“Wow, this Potter bloke was on the winning Gryffindor team for seven years in a row. He must’ve been an impressive Seeker,” Charlie commented, squinting into a glass case.
Oliver nodded, “Yeah I’ve been through all the Quidditch things. I thought maybe my dad was just as Quidditch crazed as my mum was but no such luck. She’s in here a few times though,” Oliver pointed into another glass case, where his mother’s name could be seen on several plaques from her time on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.
Charlie blinked in surprise, “So, no sign of your dad being a Quidditch star then? Just your mum?”
Oliver shrugged, continuing on to the more academic awards, “Apparently, if he was on the Quidditch team he must not have been any good, but so far no sign. I’m hoping he maybe got an award for something else.”
Charlie followed behind him, scanning the walls for a sign of Oliver’s dad’s name. “What if you don’t find anything in here?”
Oliver tried to settle the panic that was creeping all over his body. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. Charlie had unknowingly voiced Oliver’s darkest thought. What if he was chasing a dead end? What if he didn’t find anything?
Oliver cleared his throat, “Well, I suppose I’ll have to try something else,” He said with forced confidence.
Together the two of them scoured the academic part of the trophy room, even with two sets of eyes it was proving to be difficult.
After a little bit of searching, Charlie sighed. “Hey, I’ve got to go eat some lunch before I head to Hogsmeade. I’m meeting a classmate at the Three Broomsticks. We’re working on something for Care of Magical Creatures.”
Oliver blinked, looking up from a scroll about some Ravenclaw winning a chess tournament. “Oh…I didn’t realize you had to meet someone, I’m sorry you should’ve said something sooner!”
Charlie looked away, scratching the top of his head sheepishly. “Er…it’s fine, I’m nervous about going anyway. She’s really smart and I don’t want to embarrass myself.”
Oliver felt like the winter chill had slipped through the castle walls and directly into his bones. Charlie was meeting a girl. For a “project,” but he seemed nervous. His face was flushed and he wasn’t looking directly at Oliver. “Well, you’d better not keep her waiting I suppose. Have a good time, Charlie.”
Oliver hated how much his tone sounded like his mother’s. Cold, detached, scathing. He didn’t mean to sound like that…or maybe he did. He couldn’t be sure.
“Oh, okay, thanks Ollie. I’ll help you out with this again soon, yeah?” Charlie said, retreating towards the entrance.
“Sure, if you can spare the time,” Oliver said snarkily. His stomach was twisted with an unfamiliar emotion. He felt like he heard his voice as if it was far away, someone else.
“Yeah, definitely. Don’t uhm..don’t forget about lunch okay? I’ll see you later,” Charlie told him blue eyes filled with hurt and confusion at Oliver’s dismissal.
Oliver turned back around, to the pile of awards on a table in front of him. He tried to ignore the feeling in his gut, and tried to blame the tears that fell on his face on the copious amount of dust that came with the parchment and scrolls on the table.
Just an allergy and a stomach ache right?
Definitely not…anything else. Not jealousy?
Oliver ignored the thoughts in his brain, throwing a scroll down on the table roughly, wiped his face, and sat on the cold stone floor, facing the door, wishing for Charlie’s excited face to come wandering back in.
He didn’t come back.