Chapter 45
Now…
“Your mother seems to have a gift for sticking her nose in at the worst times,” His therapist mused.
Oliver sighed, “That she does. But, she only tended to bother me when she thought she could use me to her advantage, to her goals, her dreams, she didn’t really care about me. I think…I really know that now.”
“But when you’re thirteen…” His therapist finished Oliver’s own train of thoughts.
Oliver nodded, it seemed like his youth years were a string of ups and downs.
Then…
Oliver gripped the letter tightly, still not quite believing it was real, hoping it would burst into flames. Trying to keep his breathing even, he stumbled as he stood up and headed out of the Great Hall ignoring the confused calls from Fred and George.
Oliver walked blindly outside, letting his feet carry him wherever they decided. There was a faint ringing noise in his ears, and he started to take deep breaths, the lukewarm autumn air helping him calm down. Oliver checked his surroundings, trying to get his bearings and laughed harshly when he realized where he was.
He was standing in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. Where else would he end up? Even after a rough game, the tough training from his mother, Oliver still came back to the Quidditch pitch. Oliver took a seat in the stands and tore open the letter, like ripping off a band aid.
Oliver,
I was finally beginning to go through your room, deciding on whether or not I was going to be rid of your belongings, or if I would allow you to come home when I found that letter from Hogwarts you never cared to share with me. You’ve been made Quidditch Captain at only thirteen?! I suppose you have me to thank for that. I must say I am quite impressed, despite your other shortcomings you may still be the Keeper I want you to be. This is good, Oliver. I might even come to one of your matches, see if you really are worth captain material. You may come home at Christmas if you continue to do well.
I’ll be watching.
- Mother
Oliver laughed at the absurdity of the entire letter. His laughter dissolved into tears a few minutes later. Why didn’t she just want him back? Hell, what if she just hadn’t brown him out in the first place? Why did he have to be good enough for her? Why wasn’t he just loved by her as he was? Why why why? That was the question wasn’t it? Oliver yelled angrily across the empty pitch, not caring if anyone was close by to hear him. Tears streamed down his face, his throat was already hurting from screaming, and he didn’t notice the person behind him, until arms encircled his chest.
“Hey, hey, I’ve got you,” Charlie’s voice said softly but firmly against his ear, his arms holding Oliver tightly.
Oliver sagged against Charlie, letting the tears fall. He was grateful that no one else had to see him like this, it was embarrassing enough that Charlie was here. “I hate her so much,” Oliver choked out between sobs.
“I know you do,” Charlie said calmly, and Oliver wished that he didn’t sound so reasonable. It was working though, Oliver’s breaths were becoming more even.
“Let me go,” Oliver said with a sniff.
“If I do, do you promise not to do anything stupid?” Charlie asked him, still calm as ever.
Oliver huffed out a laugh, “You should know me better than that Charlie.”
It was Charlie’s turn to laugh, “True, can you try not to do anything stupid?”
Oliver sighed, “Honestly? I don’t have the energy.” His throat hurt, his eyes were puffy, he felt like he needed to take a nap.
“Good because I don’t know that I have the energy to stop you either.” Charlie replied, releasing his grip on Oliver.
Oliver turned to look at him, and Charlie did look tired. “How did you find me?”
Charlie blinked at him and spoke slowly, “Ollie, I followed you out here, you didn’t hear me call after you?”
Oliver’s eyes widened. No, he definitely had not heard him. He barely remembered ending up out here in the first place. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Charlie just how bad he had gotten. Having Charlie worry about him might be one more thing added to Charlie’s pile that may make him finally collapse.
“No I guess I didn’t…are you okay?” Oliver asked him, eager to change the subject.
Which of course, Charlie knew that was what he was trying to do. “We’re not here to talk about me Ollie. You need to not let her get under your skin anymore. She may have raised you, and trained you, but she threw you out too. You don’t owe her anything.”
Oliver knew there was truth in Charlie’s words, but the nagging part of his brain hummed at him. She was still his mother, and he did become a great Keeper because of her training, even despite her methods…they did guarantee results.
Oliver was living breathing proof of that.
But at what cost? The other part of his brain whispered back at him.
“She’s still my mother….unfortunately. It’s not so easy Charlie.” Oliver replied, hating that he was defending her.
Charlie sighed, “I know, but all I’m saying is that you’re your own person. Don’t let some twisted responsibility or a notion to do whatever she wants you to do okay? Please?”
“I’ll do my best, that’s all I can give you, Charlie.” Oliver said, even hating the sound of it himself.
“I know you will Oliver, now let’s go back up to the castle. You’ll be back here for practice before you know it.” Charlie turned and began the descent down from the stands, leaving Oliver no room for argument.
As usual, Charlie was right. It was annoying most of the time, but for once, Oliver found it more comforting. “She thinks she can take all the credit for me becoming Quidditch Captain.”
Charlie snorted, “If anyone can take credit for that it’s me.” He teased Oliver, nudging him with his shoulder.
Oliver rolled his eyes, “if you want to write her a letter and argue about it, be my guest.”
Charlie laughed, and Oliver smiled, he couldn’t remember why he was ignoring Charlie anymore. Either way, Charlie was definitely forgiven, just by being his old reliable self.