Written for the 1991 Challenge (Oliver Rivers - forest)

The One

"Oliver! Where are you?"

He heard the slightly panicked call from his mother again (each time she grew closer and closer to his hiding spot) but like the last three times he didn't respond. She would find him eventually – she always did – but he never sought to find her.

"Oliver, lunch is ready!"

She was only a few trees away now and he debated ducking behind another just to keep her searching that little bit longer; but he decided against it.

"Oliver, there you are! I was looking for you everywhere!"

"I was just playing, Mummy." He said it with such innocence that his mother couldn't even be angry with him. Such was how Oliver's mother was. It was just the two of them – where his dad was, or who he was, she would never tell him – and he was never in trouble.

"Of course you were, Ollie. Well, lunch is ready now. Let's come inside." She held out her hand for him to take, and together, they walked slowly back to the little cottage they lived in right on the edge of a forest.

At six, Oliver liked it being just him and Mummy.

…

"Give that here!" A letter had arrived for Oliver (in quite a funny way, too; an owl had delivered it), but his mother had snatched it out of his hands before he'd even had the chance to look at it. Then she burnt it, without saying a word.

"Come on, Oliver," she said, slightly panicked. "We're going to church."

The car ride to the little village church was dead silent. On occasions, Oliver would glance his mother's way, only to see her staring furiously out the front window with her hands almost white from gripping the steering wheel. He wanted to know what that letter had been about, but he thought it best not to ask right now. Maybe after church, when she was feeling better.

"Ah, Oliver and Hannah, it is lovely to see you, as usual." Father Ericson greeted them at the door as he usually did. Oliver smiled, pleased to see the one man he trusted more than any other. With his father non-existent, Father Ericson had been very supportive for as long as Oliver could remember.

(Though, he'd always been under the impression he knew something Oliver didn't – something his mother knew, too).

"You, too, Father," Oliver's mother answered. Her tone was short – or maybe worried. "See you inside."

Oliver always liked going to church. He liked the songs, the sermons, and the friends he'd made from being there. Some would think it strange, but he looked forward to every Sunday when he would be able to stand up and sing the hymns Father Ericson picked every week.

"Mum… what was that letter?" He waited all through church and on the car ride home before he'd asked it. It had been playing on his mind for most of the morning. Although he didn't want to anger his mother, it had been addressed to him.

"Nothing, Oliver. Nothing." She never called him Oliver unless he was in trouble, so he dropped it. It obviously wasn't important, but he felt sorry for the sender – they were probably waiting for a reply they'd never receive.

At ten, Oliver had absolutely no idea that he was a wizard.

…

"And you have everything?"

"Yes."

"Trunk? Robes? And… and wand?" The last was said with a slight hint of resentment as his mother glanced at the steaming, red train in front of them.

"Yes."

Another letter had arrived after the first, along with a strange looking lady in a pointed hat. She had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, and had then proceeded to tell Oliver that he was a wizard and had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His mother had been furious, demanding this Professor McGonagall leave at once, but she hadn't listened.

Now, he was boarding a train, ready to begin is education as a wizard.

It was strange, but he now knew that his father had been one, too, and when his mother had found out, she had left and taken Oliver with her. Apparently being a wizard meant being possessed by a demon, and she had refused to believe that her son had inherited such ungodly characteristics.

But now… now she couldn't deny it. If she didn't let him go to this Hogwarts, he would never learn to control his magic.

"Well, have fun, Oliver." She never called him Ollie anymore (as if she didn't think him worthy of such a nickname).

"Thanks, Mum." And then he was on his way.

At eleven, Oliver began his journey as a wizard.

…

His mother introduced him to a rather pretty girl when he turned sixteen. She was a member of their church and was heavily involved in every service they attended. She was nice, but Oliver had his heart set on another; her name was Padma Patil.

"You can take her out, Oliver," his mother said, smiling at the shy girl whose name was Mia. "Maybe go to see a film or something."

"No thanks, Mum."

His mother appeared scandalised at such a blunt statement, but merely asked, "No?"

"Mia is nice, but I like someone else. Her name's Padma and she goes to school with me."

If his rejection of Mia hadn't offended his mother, than that comment certainly had. Even after five years, she still had trouble accepting that her son was a wizard. She loved him dearly, of course, but it was hard when Father Ericson told her that wizardry was the work of the devil, yet her son had such sorcery in his blood.

"Well… well maybe just take Mia out and see, then," she said after a moment. "She's a lovely girl, Oliver."

"No thank you."

At sixteen, Oliver decided that he was madly in love with a girl called Padma and no one was going to change his mind.

…

"Will you marry me?"

The young woman's eyes widened in surprise as she stared down at the man before her. He was on one knee with a ring in his hand – in the most traditional sense – and she wasn't sure what to say.

"Oliver…."

"Say yes?"

There was a moment's pause, and for a brief second his heart caught in his throat. She was going to say no… the look on her face….

"Yes, Oliver, of course I'll marry you!" Her arms flew around his neck and she kissed him hard on the mouth. Her skin was so soft against him, and for a moment, it was almost as if he was floating on air. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and he'd never felt this way about anyone before.

"I love you," she said, breaking the kiss for just a moment, before returning to him.

He beamed, taking in her beauty and the gentleness in which she touched him.

"I love you, too, Mia," he said softly.

At twenty-three, Oliver realised that he had met 'the one'.

Not sure how I feel about this, but here it is anyway. Your thoughts are much appreciated!