Chapter 27
Now…
“It seems your relationship with Charlie hit a rough patch in your second year, wouldn’t you say?” His therapist said mildly, eyeing him cautiously.
Oliver snorted, “You could say that,” He sighed. “It wouldn’t be the first one we would have either, but yeah, I suppose the second half of that year was pretty…difficult to say the least.”
His therapist nodded, “All friendships have their difficulties, Oliver.”
Oliver nodded, looking out the window, and smiled ruefully to himself. “You’re not wrong, there.”
Then…
Oliver floated by the goal posts, the snowflakes flying around him. It was early March, and he’d barely spoken to Charlie since that time in the library. Oliver wasn’t thinking about that now, it was the middle of a match after all. Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw, in what was hopefully the last winter storm of the year.
Oliver could barely make out the blurs of scarlet and blue flying in the air, and he idly wondered how the Seekers were expected to catch the godforsaken Snitch in these conditions. His mothers voice echoed in his head, sharp and unpleasant. ‘Oliver, you must be able to suffer through the most brutal conditions if you want to be the best.’
“Shut up,” Oliver muttered to himself, his teeth chattering.
His mother was another person he had barely heard from over the last month, and in this case at least, that was just fine. He was sure he’d deal with her plenty when he went home at the end of the year.
Oliver braced himself, shaking his thoughts away as a Ravenclaw Chaser headed his way, Quaffle in hand. His eyes tracked the Chaser’s movements, their body language, hoping for a sign of which hoop they were going for.
He didn’t get the chance to try and score.
Fred, or possibly George, aimed a Bludger a little too close to home, and the Chaser was forced to turn away from the goal, and soon Katie and Angelina were herding him away from the goal, fighting over the Quaffle.
Oliver sighed, wondering if he was relieved, or just plain bored. His teammates were performing some excellent defense and offense today, which was perfectly fine, but it had left him with very little to do in this match. Gryffindor was winning sixty to forty, and Oliver squinted into the sky once again, hoping to see Charlie diving for the Snitch.
It was much too cold to be out here doing nothing. “Come on, get on with it, find the bloody thing,” Oliver muttered again, looking at Charlie circling the pitch.
Oliver had felt…a little lost this past month. Without Charlie to spend his time with, he’d mostly spent it divided between the twins and Marcus Flint. They had tried to spend time with each other’s respective friend groups but the results had been…mixed to say the least. Fred and George were a little too “childish” for Marcus, which Oliver had found hilarious coming out of the mouth of a fellow twelve year old’s mouth, and Marcus’s friends were…rude? Obnoxious? Unwelcoming?
Needless to say, they mostly spent their time together, the two of them, much to their friends' bafflement. The two of them had taken to studying for exams together, extra Quidditch practice, and Oliver had even opened up to him about his father a little more, with Flint returning the favor.
Oliver’s thoughts were interrupted by the crowd cheering in excitement as Charlie and the Ravenclaw Seeker both dove towards the ground, neck and neck. “Come on, come on, Charlie you can do it. You have to, otherwise we’re bloody screwed.”
Oliver’s job was important, but in the end it always came down to who caught the damn Snitch. That golden little bugger was worth too many points, in Oliver’s opinion.
The crowd roared as Charlie flew upwards, triumphant with the Snitch in his hand.
“Gryffindor wins! An impressive match, continuing their winning streak!” The announcer said cheerfully, “Now, let’s all get back inside and get warm!”
Oliver laughed, as the statement was followed by somehow even louder cheers. He flew down and met his teammates in the locker room, changing quickly, not really ready for the freezing walk back to the castle. Idly, Oliver wondered if he could get away with flying back. It would certainly save some time.
“Hey, you two, fancy flying back to the castle? I think it’ll be faster than walking don’t you?” Oliver asked, turning to Fred and George.
“Well, do my ears deceive me? Is Oliver Wood asking us if we want to break the rules?” Fred said in mock innocence.
“I think so, Fred,” George added, his eyes wide.
Oliver rolled his eyes, grinning. “Come on, are you in or not?”
The twins shrugged. “Fine by me,” Fred said.
The three of them grabbed their brooms, and headed out of the locker room.
They bumped directly into Charlie, who had Rosalie wrapped around him in a tight hug.
Oliver groaned inwardly, trying and failing to glare at Rosalie. “What are you three troublemakers up to?” She asked them, her eyes filled with humor.
Ugh. Oliver thought to himself, Why was she acting like they were eight years old? She was only two years their senior. “Flying back, it’s faster,” Oliver replied stiffly, not looking at Charlie.
“Is that really a good idea?” Charlie asked, sighing and looking at his younger brothers sternly.
“Probably not, but I doubt you’ll be able to stop them,” Alicia said, coming to stand behind Charlie and Rosalie with Katie and Angelina bringing up the rear.
“She’s not wrong,” George said with a grin.
“Off we go!” Fred said.
Oliver followed the two of them out to the pitch again, and flew back to the castle, squinting through the snow.
Oliver pushed the thoughts of Charlie away, instead focusing back on Marcus. His dark hair, green eyes, his laugh, and how surprised he always looked to be laughing…
Oliver nearly crashed his broom into one of the towers, pulling his broom firmly away from the wall, and landing in the courtyard outside of the bell tower.
He didn’t…did he like Marcus? That was crazy, he’d only ever had thoughts like that about Charlie. He always thought he’d only ever think about Charlie that way. Which, still confused him, but now that he was feeling this way about Marcus….what did it mean.
Oliver thought long and hard out in the courtyard, gripping his broom and getting covered in snow. Had he ever thought about a girl this way?
He almost laughed, if anything he could only see himself and how much he disliked Rosalie. Maybe not the best example but did she always have to be all over Charlie? It was annoying.
No, he didn't think he’d ever found a girl as intriguing as Charlie and now Marcus.
Panic started to set in, oh his mother would have a field day if she knew he was…that way. His breathing became rapid, and he sat on the frozen fountain side, the cold seeping into his lungs, trying to strangle him.
“Oliver! What are you doing down there, mate?” Fred called to him, before landing beside him.
“We saw you almost crash! Are you alright?” George asked, landing on his other side.
Oliver gasped, his breathing evening out, as he heard their voices through the panic in his head. He couldn’t go see Marcus now, not after all the new information he may have just figured out about himself.
“I’m alright, tired after the match. Maybe flying back wasn’t the best idea,” Oliver replied with a shaky laugh.
“Come on then, up to the tower with you,” Fred said, sounding eerily like his mother.
“A nap before dinner would do you good,” George added.
Oliver allowed himself to be herded inside by his two friends, distantly wondering how they would feel if they knew he liked their older brother. If they knew he liked any guy.
Add that to the list of things Oliver was hiding from people.
He sighed, and let the twins lead him up to the tower, where his warm bed waited.