Love and Understanding

I get the feeling that I said something wrong when I went to see Oliver today. I'm not sure what it was exactly, but I think it had something to do with my reaction to the article. Oh my God.

It had been humiliating. Harry and Ron had greeted me nervously, shared a worried look, and silently passed me a piece of paper. It was the article, clipped from the Daily Prophet. I read it once, then once more. I felt the blood rushing to my face. "Shit," I muttered, not caring about what those around me thought.

But then the taunting started, and I did care. I cared enough to skip Potions, and no matter how bad it's been in the past, I've never done that.

I had to see Oliver. I wondered if he knew, and what he thought. Was he horrified? Disgusted? Being taunted as much as I was?

Needless to say, Lavender and Parvati were both amused and curious. "Are you really dating Oliver Wood?" they wheedled, cornering me before Charms. "We thought you might be. Susan Bones said she saw the two of you kissing in The Three Broomsticks, and we didn't believe her at first, but then Ron said something about you meeting in Diagon Alley, and we couldn't help but wonder..."

So I dropped everything and ran to Oliver. Only it didn't go quite the way I'd hoped. In my vision of events, I discussed the article with Oliver calmly and rationally, we laughed about it, I dropped a few subtle hints about him being embarrassed, he'd deny it outright and then maybe ask me, somewhat shyly, if I felt like going to Hogsmeade on a date at some point.

Instead, I ended up almost sobbing about how miserable my life was, and talking about how to get out of it - namely, expulsion. And I bloody screwed things up.

I used up so many pieces of parchment that day, trying to compose a decent-sounding letter to Oliver, but failing every time. Eventually I had to concede defeat and went in search of Ginny. "I'm a fool!" I declared when I found her. She looked up from her magazine, startled.

"Why?"

"Because I have managed to stuff up just about everything in less than twenty-four hours. Fooool."

"Ah," she replied, and discarded the magazine. "Tell me everything."

And I did. When I finished, she surveyed me in an odd way. "You know what? Every time I think I know you, you still manage to surprise me somehow."

Together, we made a list of possible plans. The boring, tame ones simply involved an eloquent letter. The wilder ones involved leopards, fireworks, and learning to fly a broomstick in about twenty minutes. We tried to come up with a happy medium. And succeeded.

* * *

"Oliver!" I yelled across the pitch two days later.

He looked up and stared at me. I didn't blame him; the second time in three days that I had illegally turned up at his place of work - he had to be getting suspicious by now.

He replaced the Quaffle in its box and made his way over to me. I'd actually been watching for a while, and when all of his team-mates had headed inside, I ventured out. I didn't particularly want this to have an audience. "Hello," he greeted me gruffly.

"Hi," I said, grinning. "How's things?"

He shrugged. "OK. You?"

"Yeah, fine. In fact..." begin Phase One NOW, I thought, "...I've never been better. Don't know why on Earth I got so worked up over that silly article."

"Oh?" he said, his face lifting just slightly. "It's getting better at school, is it?"

Phase Two...NOW. "Well, not really, but I realised that I didn't really care what they thought. After all, why should I?"

His eyebrows shot up and he was looking at me with undisguised interest now. "Really?"

I nodded and grinned again. Phase Three... NOW. "I had the morning off because Professor Flitwick's ill, so I thought I'd come and see you, and... apologise." I bit my lip. "I didn't realise that you might take offence at the way I reacted to the article. I didn't mean to imply that being seen with you was humiliating for me, or that I wasn't happy with our friendship. I'm really sorry, Oliver."

He gave me a half-smile. "That's OK. And I'm sorry, too. I should have warned you about the side-effects to being friends with me."

We walked comfortably back to the stands. As we walked, I took a deep breath, steeled my nerves, and said, "So... um... Hogwarts is having a ball this Christmas."

"Oh, really?" Was it me, or did his voice sound cautiously interested all of a sudden?

"Yes. It's for charity... we're trying to raise money for the children's wards in St. Mungo's. It's going to be great."

"Right," he said non-committedly.

My mouth was dry and I had to pinch myself into speaking. "I... I was wondering... d'you want to come? With me, that is. To the ball."

He stopped walking abruptly, and I had to turn and face him. His eyes met mine. "Me? T-To the ball? With you?"

Unable to speak, I nodded.

He hesitated, then seemed to make up his mind. "No."

* * *

A girl, an average girl, will always be afraid of asking for something that she wants, because she knows that there is a chance of rejection. Gutsy girls will ask, of course, and will hide their reaction - good or bad - until they are alone. Hermione is a gutsy girl. I know this for two reasons. One - she is a Gryffindor, and all Gryffindors are gutsy by default. Two - I know her very well.

She would not have asked me to the ball if she didn't feel there was a half-decent chance I'd say yes. But she knew there would always be a chance I'd say no. So when I gave her my reply, she simply nodded. And walked away.

I watched her leave, wanting with every fibre in my being to run after her and say I was sorry, I'd made a mistake, could we please start over? Then she vanished behind a doorway and was gone. And I knew beyond a shred of doubt that I had just made the worst mistake of my life.

I'd thought I was doing the right thing, saying no. Despite her apologies, and her insistences that she wasn't phased by the article, I still felt that to expose her to the publicity and the ridicule of her fellow pupils would be a bad idea, and the best thing to do would be to gently push her away.

But I was wrong. The best thing to do would have been to stay true to my heart and to Hermione. You bastard, I thought, you complete and utter bastard.

I showered and changed in silence, not even uttering a goodbye to my team-mates, who were understandably confused. I used the manager's office fireplace to Floo back home, but for the first time in my life, I stepped inside and felt unwelcome.

I listened to the radio, I read a book, I tried to start writing a book... all to make myself forget what I had done. But I couldn't. And that scared me.