Chapter Two

Seven a.m. It was windier than the forecast had predicted. The chasers tugged on heavier eye gear as they blinked away the last night's sleep. His seeker flexed his fingers encased in the heavy gloves. The quiet swish of bats accompanied the murmurs passed from teammate to teammate in the locker room.

There was a knock at the door. A collective breath collapsed into the shuffling of robes and broomsticks. Someone made a joke – Oliver couldn't remember who.

Then the kick-off. A blur of quaffles, emerald-green and navy-blue cloaks, and glimpses of grey sky. He might've said something to the Kestrels' keeper. Or maybe it was one of the chasers. He remembered touching down onto the pitch, legs shaking the way they did after a match. Walking back to his locker, gear half hanging off his body in anticipation for a shower. He'd passed by one of the manager's assistants.

"There was an owl from St Mungo's. Do you want me to get it for you?"

x

Six months of waiting by her bedside, and he was late when she woke up. He almost yelled at the assistant for not interrupting the match. Absurdity, he settled on, absolutely no reason to. Except there was. For a split second, something was more important than Quidditch. Except it wasn't. It wasn't.

Oliver sat in the waiting room. He almost wished her parents were there to make polite conversation with. It might have been better than staring down the hallway, willing a Healer to come for him. Maybe he would pop downstairs for one of those enchanted floral arrangements. Or a chocolate bar.

He stood, briefly cursing himself for not rolling out his sore muscles before rushing over. Absentmindedly, he patted his pocket for the coin pouch he carried. As he started for the stairs, there was a voice from behind him.

"Oliver."

"Do you think Katie would prefer lilies or sunflowers?"

"You're too late. There's no more space by her bedside."

Of course, there wasn't.

Angelina began some quip about his priorities, and then she saw his robes. Chestgear, no shoulder guards, black everyday robes. She closed her mouth and reached for his hand. There would be time for that later.

"D'you think she'd want chocolate?"

"I think so."

They walked, hands clutched, neither knowing if they were comforting the other or holding themselves steady. He'd take an ice bath later.

x

Chocolate in hand, Oliver stood at the door. His hand shook as he knocked. Must've been gripping the broom too tight… he made a mental note to work on that. There was a quiet response before he walked in.

The Healer eyed him for any more flowers; there'd been too many placed on the bedside that day. There were none in hand. Oliver slipped the chocolate into his robes.

It seemed as if she had shrunken in the day he hadn't seen her. He wasn't sure if hugging her would break her. He wasn't sure what one should say to someone who'd just woken up. Especially not when he'd gotten used to yelling her awake.

"Bell." He settled on Bell, of all things.

Katie's eyes met his. She laughed.

It was the loveliest sound he'd heard in a long time.

"Hello, cap'n."

Oliver bent down. A brief moment of fear flashed across her eyes. From where she was lying, he saw her flinch away from him. He placed the bar of chocolate where her hand had been, drawing himself to his full height to step back.

"Thought you might've forgotten about me." Oliver allowed himself a smile. The Healer had moved closer to the bed, hovering, waiting for her response.

She let out a sharp breath, guilt washing through her body. Chocolate had been the right call, he thought.

"You think too little of me."

He felt his body relax. "Never."

x

Oliver felt the room spinning slightly. His bedsheets were smooth and cold under his body. He stared up at the ceiling, breathing in the smell of the whiskey he'd had earlier that night. Celebrating winning the match, he'd told Benjy. They'd talked about the plays between idle chatter. He couldn't remember much else. But it had been enough to take his mind off things.

Closing his eyes, he decided, was dangerous. He looked out the window, watching the breeze lazily wind through the branches outside. The look in her eyes haunted him as his closed briefly. They flew open.

He felt a tear roll down his face. Maybe he'd try to get some sleep. His eyes were getting dry from staying open. It was late anyways.