The weather worsened steadily as the first Quidditch match drew nearer. Undaunted, the Gryffindor team was training harder than ever under the eye of Madam Hooch. I had weasled it out of Oliver that McGonagall believed it was too dangerous for Harry to practice unsupervised.

I saw Oliver get even madder when Gryffindor was put against Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had claimed he broke his arm. Oliver had every right to worry. This year it was Cedric Diggory who was captain. He was more skilled than the previous one and had put together a fairly decent team. Not to mention he was a skilled keeper.

The day before the match, the winds reached a howling point and the rain fell harder than ever. It was so dark inside the corridors and classrooms that extra torches and lanterns were lit. I saw Oliver hurrying up to Harry and pestering him with tactics between classes, and I couldn't not feel bad for the poor kid.

I woke early morning the day of the match as I usually did, and quickly made my way down to the Library, knowing Oliver would be there. I was right. When I pushed open the door I saw him sitting by the window, sipping some coffee and reading over his Quidditch Strategies 101 book for what must've been the thousandth time that morning.

To anyone with even a slight sense of emotional awareness, it was obvious that Oliver was nervous as can be for the upcoming match. He raised his head and looked at me as soon as the library door closed behind me. I waved, and he responded with a weary smile.

"You'll do fine." I snickered, sitting down across from him.

"I know," Oliver eased up a bit, "I just hate those Slytherin assholes."

"I'm pretty sure that daddy's boy of a seeker doesn't even have a broken arm." I chuckled.

"Oh, I would bet my left lung on it." Oliver took a sad swift of his coffee. "But there's nothing I can do about it now."

"You can break Draco's arm for real after winning the match?" I offered, snickering.

"Sounds like a great idea." Oliver groaned, "But I wouldn't want him to go running to his dad and then getting suspended from quidditch."

"Right, isn't Malfoy Senior working on the council board or whatever it's called?" I cocked my eyebrow.

"Precisely," He nodded, "If I were suspended from quidditch that could lower my chances of getting onto Puddlemere United."

"I guess we have similar goals in life." I chuckled, fidgeting aimlessly with the silver broomstick on my finger, "I want to get onto the Hollyhead Harpies."

"I'm sure you'll make it." Oliver flashed me a genuine smile. "That is if your skills improve from that of a beginner."

"Right back at ya Woody." I chuckled.

"You must be mistaken," Oliver protested, "I am one of the most exceptional keepers Hogwarts has ever seen."

"Humble too." I snorted.

I thought about Cedric Diggory as the new Hufflepuff seeker. Seekers were usually light and speedy. This allowed them to move as quickly as possible. Diggory was a fifth year and a lot bigger than Harry Potter. Seekers were usually light and speedy, but Diggory's weight would be an advantage in this weather because he was less likely to be blown off course. I brought up my worry to Oliver, and he groaned in response.

"You think I haven't thought of this already?" He scowled. "That fact has been eating away at me all morning.

"I personally have never talked to Potter," I said, "But he seems a pretty good seeker even for such a young age. The pressure this game is really on him."

~~~~

The lunchroom was abuzz with excitement for the upcoming match. I looked over at the Gryffindor table where Oliver sat looking dejected, and not eating anything. Suddenly something in me jerked, and I stood up and walked over to him.

"How are you going to win without eating anything," I snickered, "You're going to get blown away from the goalposts before you even get the chance of blocking anything."

"Thank you for your consideration, Stone." Oliver rolled his eyes.

The Gryffindor team was now looking at the two of us with great interest.

"Don't give me that attitude." I snarled, "I've played in storms before, and won. Mind you I didn't do so by not eating."

"She's right Oliver," Alicia said soothingly, "You must eat something."

~~~~

Such was the popularity of Quidditch that the whole school turned out to watch the match as usual. We ran down the lawns toward the Quidditch field, heads bowed against the ferocious wind, umbrellas being whipped out of their hands as we went.

The wind was so strong that the Gryffindor team staggered sideways as they walked out onto the field. If the crowd was cheering, they couldn't hear it over the fresh rolls of thunder. Admittedly this was very unfavourable to play in, but I have done so before and so had faith in Oliver.

The Hufflepuffs were approaching from the opposite side of the field, wearing canary-yellow robes. The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and I saw both teams raise off the ground. The rain made it hard to see the players, with red and yellow blues sweeping across the field through the rain. The commentary was hard to listen to over the rain, and my stand wasn't close enough to Lee Jordan's.

The sun began to set, and it was getting darker by the minute.

With the first flash of lightning came the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle, and I could see both teams splatter onto the ground.

I excused myself from my friends and rushed down to the pitch where the Gryffindors were all huddled under a large umbrella.

I got close enough to hear snippets of conversation.

"We're fifty points up," said Wood, "but unless we get the Snitch soon, we'll be playing into the night."

"I've got no chance with these on," Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses.

"Can you not see in your glasses?" I asked, and the whole team was startled and looked at me.

"No, I can't," Harry admitted.

"What's it matter to you?" Wood challenged me testily.

"Potter give me your glasses," I said, reaching out my hand, "I've got an idea."

Harry hesitantly put the glasses on my palm.

"What are you going to-" Oliver started, but I already possessed the glasses and pulled out my wand.

"Impervius!" I tapped the glasses with my wand.

"What was that?" Oliver asked incredulously.

"Here you go Potter," I smiled sweetly, "This should repel water from your glasses for the next twelve hours or so."

Oliver looked at me with a sort of expression I've never seen him dawn before. It was enough to make my knees weaken just a tiny bit, and my heart flutter out of my chest.

"Alright, it's cold down here," I shuddered, "Good luck."

And with that, I began walking back to my seat, where I was sure My friends were waiting for me with hot tea and sandwiches.

"Brilliant!" I heard Oliver call hoarsely after me.

~~~~

The match continued and it was obvious Harry could now see his surroundings because he was zooming around more gracefully than before. I beamed, my spell had done the trick.

Cedric Diggory was pelting up the field, and a tiny speck of gold, and Harry was oblivious until someone must've yelled to him about it because he quickly started hightailing after it.

But something odd was happening. An eerie silence was falling across the stadium. The wind, though as strong as ever, was forgetting to roar. The crowd noticed as well because they stopped cheering too.

"Ehm," Liane looked over at us, "Eez zis supposed to 'appen?"

"No," June croaked, the cold clearly getting to her throat, "I don't think so."

Harry shot upward, but below him started to gather at least a hundred dementors. They were only slightly above where I was sitting, and I could feel the bone-chilling coldness coming from there. Then I saw Harry Potter falling.

Cedric had not realized what happened, as he caught the snitch as Harry was falling.

Dumbledore slowed Harry's fall just a bit, and I heard screams all across the stands. From a height of at least fifty feet, it was almost certain he had died.

What happened after could only be described as chaos.

All the professors rushed down from where they sat, and so did the students, causing what looked like a stampede. All the while Harry lay motionless on the ground, his little body looked mangled. There was not a single person who wasn't screaming. Dumbledore looked furious. He waved his wand and cast the largest Patronus I had ever seen, multiple of them at the same time, and the dementors swiftly flew off.

"HE'S ALIVE!" Dumbledore shouted after at least five minutes of this.

Hagrid carried Harry's body floated onto a stretcher, and Dumbledore speedily walking up to the hospital wing. Meanwhile, Cedric pleading McGonagall for a rematch.

"I'm sorry Cedric," McGonagall shrugged. "You won the match."

"Unfortunately, Professor is right." I heard Oliver sigh shakily. "You won fair and square."

"Right," McGonagall looked at Oliver with pity, "I'm sorry gentlemen but I need to go."

Oliver didn't stick around, and I saw him quickly make his way over to the locker rooms with the rest of his team. I don't know what it was, but I stood outside the locker rooms and waited.

"Are you coming?" Sarah motioned to me as they walked back up to the castle.

"Yeah, in a bit." I smiled.

"Alright," Lori said and handed me her umbrella, "Don't catch a cold."

"Thanks." I nodded gratefully."

People started slowly exiting the locker room, but none of them are Oliver. Finally, the last teammates aside from Oliver stepped out, it was Fred and George.

"He took the loss quite seriously," Fred shook his head.

"I reckon he's trying to drown himself in the showers." George echoed.

"Shit," I muttered, "I thought he would react like this."

"Work your love magic," Fred wiggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe it'll him feel better." George grinned.

"It's not like that, and I have a boyfriend." I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say." They said unanimously and began walking towards the castle.

I stood in front of the locker room door for a little longer, before slowly pushing it open. It was musty, smelling of what could only be described as wet dog. I could see red lockers lining the walls, and a long bench in the middle of them. On it sat Oliver's bag. There was a shower along the wall, and it was turned on. Oliver sat under its stream, his quidditch clothes still on him. His head was buried in his knees.

"What are you doing in here?" He asked with his face rested on his knees.

"Get up," I commanded, and he abruptly looked up.

His brown eyes were bloodshot, and his face was as white as a sheet.

"I let my team down." He said quietly, "I almost lost one of my teammates as well."

"So you're just going to mope around in the showers?"

"I'm not moping around."

"Don't make me say it again, get up." I snarled and grabbed his forearm, pulling him to a standing position. I was now also under the warm showers stream and quickly stepped out of it.

"This was my last chance to win..." Oliver looked ashen.

"And the chance is still there." I pursed my lips.

"Is it?" He smiled sadly at me.

"So what now, you're just going to give up?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"I-"

"Woody compared to some quidditch captains I have the displeasure of knowing," I snickered, "Your leadership is saintlike."

Oliver's silken features broke into a slight grin.

"Finally admitting to our distaste of Flint are we?" He asked, his voice still hoarse from the cold weather.

"I didn't say him exactly," I chuckled.

"Either way, the chances of Gryffindor winning are extremely slim." He sighed.

"They're going to be a zero with that attitude." I crossed my arms.

"You're probably right." Oliver agreed.

"I promise you, I will beat Hufflepuff the next match by no less than two hundred points." I looked away, "That will give you a shot at first place if you beat everyone else."

"Stone... But what about-" Oliver began to ask.

"No, I'm not throwing my match against you," I rolled my eyes and snorted, "I'm just saying that your last chance to get the cup will be whether you beat my team or not and whether you beat the others by enough points."

Oliver turned off the shower head behind him, and looked down at me, a smile playing on his lips. His anger and sadness seemed to mostly deteriorate, and his usual arrogant cockiness and ego were quickly returning to his possession. I suddenly became painfully aware of how alone in that locker room we were. I could feel my breathing grow more rapid, and my pulse strengthening. Every bone in my body was trying to get me to take a step closer to him.

"Thank you, Stone," Oliver finally said, breaking me out of my trance.

"Right, well," I rubbed the nape of my neck, "I'm gonna go back up to my common room."

"Would you like me to walk you?" Oliver offered.

"No thanks," I giggled, turning for the door, "See you around, Wood."

"Goodbye, Stone."