The Keeper

Chapter 41

*

Somehow, we made it to the quidditch pitch without another quarrel about what our relationship revolved around. Oliver quickly popped into the Gryffindor changing rooms to drag out the trunk containing the quaffle while I flew a couple laps around the pitch.

I was halfway through my third lap when a quaffle hurled towards me out of nowhere. Thankfully, my reflexes had been fine-tuned thanks to my training and I caught the quaffle before it hit me or fell back to the ground.

"Nice one!"

I looked down and saw Oliver beaming up at me, his broom under his arm. He mounted it and flew in front of the posts that were furthest from me. No words were spoken, but the determined expression on his face and his hands gripping his broom told me that he was going to give me a real challenge. One that I was definitely up for.

I adjusted my position so the quaffle fit snugly under my dominant arm, my other grasping my broomstick.

"Come on," I muttered.

Taking a deep breath, I surged forward. The wind immediately stung my eyes and I squinted to block it out. I was flying closer and closer to Oliver when I realised that I probably should've planned my move in advance.

My lack of planning meant that I flew sharply left at the last second. He had been waiting for a sudden movement and blocked my shot effortlessly. I caught the quaffle as it came back to me, trying to avoid Oliver's gaze.

"Better luck next time," he said. I met his eyes to see him smiling warmly at me. It made me feel better and I flew back to have another try.

We must've repeated the drill two dozen times and I'd managed to score just under half of my attempts. By then, I was red in the face and breathing faster. But I wanted to have just one more go.

Oliver didn't seem tired despite the fact that we must've been flying nearly nonstop for roughly half an hour. This only made me more determined as I leaned into the wind.

I decided that I wouldn't try to trick him this time. I was going to call his bluff a couple of times instead.

I pushed onwards until I was a few metres in front of Oliver. Holding my breath, I made a short, sharp turn to the left. As I had expected, he didn't take the bait. This left me a window of opportunity. After pausing for a split-second, I continued on the path that I had hinted at, lobbing the quaffle through the hoop.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, punching the air.

Oliver shook his head as he swooped down to catch the quaffle, but I caught him smiling out of the corner of my eye. I flew to the ground and he joined me, the quaffle tucked under his left arm. He was panting lightly. We gently placed our brooms down.

"Well done," he said, dropping the quaffle to pay me on the shoulder.

"I scored a few times against the famed Oliver Wood!" I said, clapping my hands excitedly.

He bowed. "Your Highness."

"I suppose I must be considered quidditch royalty now, shouldn't I?"

Bowing even lower, Oliver said, "I am blessed by your presence."

"Oh, get up," I giggled, swatting the air dismissively. 

"You don't understand!" he protested, although he did stand up and towered over me a little. "I think you need a reward."

I smirked and leaned a bit closer. "Is that so?" I whispered.

Just as Oliver started to close his eyes, I grabbed my broom, mounted it and started to fly off.

"You'll have to catch me first!" I yelled, too busy zooming away to look back. I didn't have to look to know that Oliver would be catching up to me already. Although, I wasn't flying my fastest. I was rather looking forward to being caught.

Turns out I didn't have to wait very long at all. It was only around twenty seconds until I felt a strong hand grip my shoulder. If I Oliver hadn't been directly behind me, I probably would've fallen. But his hand moved to the small of my back and kept me upright.

"A hero!" I said, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead.

"A loser," he replied with a chuckle. "Though I do believe I've earned my reward."

We landed again and I gently linked my arms around Oliver's neck.

"I suppose you have," I murmured, before I kissed him. It was short, leaving him wanting more. He moved closer. I was more than happy to oblige and let him kiss me this time. He leaned in, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, we pulled away. Oliver pressed his forehead to mine.

"Maybe we'll have to practice quidditch more often, hmm?" he said. I noticed his lips were slightly darker than usual.

"I'd like that. I love you."

He kissed me once more. "I love you too."