8
|| Only when you decide to play the game is when the game plays you. ||
I entered the Three Broomsticks and sat down in a booth towards the back, away from the windows. I see Oliver enter the pub and walk towards me a bouquet of snow drops in his hand. I smiled and stood to greet him.
I hugged him tightly as he squeezed back just as tight, if not tighter. He kissed my cheek and my heart fluttered with that same feeling.
But I couldn’t feel that now.
I was with Fred I can’t feel those same feelings anymore, that butterfly in my stomach would have to fly away in order for me to be here.
I took a deep breath and smiled softly before sitting back down wrapping my hands around my mug of butterbeer.
“Oliver,” I said suddenly. “I missed you so much.”
He smiled at me then reached across the table to grasp my hand. That butterfly threatened to flutter its wings again so I swallowed hard.
“I’ve missed you too, so much, I’ve missed you as an opponent and as a…” He trailed off those cinnamon eyes drifting down to my lips.
We talked for almost an hour, I told him of the Arrows and of the training camp.
He told me of his training and of his new team. Finally I decided to turn the conversation in the direction I had been debating.
“Oliver, I have something to tell you…” I said rubbing my thumb on his hand.
“What’s that my dear?” Again that damned butterfly threatened to beat its wings yet again.
“I’m seeing someone,” I said honestly, best to get it out of the way before it seems like I’m leading him on.
“Who?” His voice was painstakingly calm, his voice monotone.
“Fred Weasley,” I whispered.
“That would explain why he was so cold to me when I saw him in Hogsmeade a bit ago,” He said leaning back from me, he took his hands away from mine and crossed his arms.
He couldn’t meet my eyes.
“I’m sorry Oliver…” I said, I was truly sorry I had loved Oliver with all my heart, I almost still did.
“Don’t be sorry I couldn’t expect you to wait for me forever,” he chuckled halfheartedly.
It broke my heart the way he was dealing with this.
I felt terrible.
He smiled at me.
“But, I want to tell you something about him, just think about it you dont need to believe me or anything okay just hear me out,” he said. I had to give him this.
So I nodded.
“Fred hates Slytherins. He hates slytherins alright? If he’s with you its probably a dare or a bet or something from a friend of his or even George. Just tell me does it seem like he’d actually talk to you?” Olivers words were harsh but they made sense logically even if he was a Gryffindor himself.
“But you talked to me,” I pointed out.
I didn’t want him to be right, but where was the argument, if there was one it was weaker than I needed.
“I did, but I’m not exactly like Fred and George, and besides we lived near each other so it just worked out.” I supposed he was right, although I didn’t want him to be.
“I guess I should get going, the lamp posts have been lit,” I said, twiddling with my thumbs.
“Yeah,” he paused looking at me those cinnamon eyes turning copper in the lantern light.
“I should probably be going too. But, I want you to know that I’m going to be here tomorrow, I’m meeting with George and maybe Fred to play some Quidditch.”
“I’ll see if I can make it,” I smiled and lied.
Then we stood, first me then him, I hugged Oliver relishing in his musky, savory cologne.
“Thank you for caring about me Oli,” I said to him as softly as I could.
Before I could remember myself I tilted my head and kissed his cheek before turning away leaving him in the pub.