That Fan Fiction With No Name

Chapter Six

So, yeah, hey there. Currently I have the story written up to Chapter Twelve. But, if I don't get any comments or fans, I'm thinking I'll stop at Chapter 10. There isn't really much point writing a story that no one's gonna read. Anyway, for now here you go, enjoy :)

Chapter Six: The rest of the week went by quickly, I tried avoiding Cedric but it was hopeless. He kept apologising, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore him. Especially on Friday, when I had to talk to him at the try-outs. Hermione had gone to my detention for me, but at this point I was beginning to think that detention would be better than having to talk to him. I knew I would make the team, Cedric had to put me on or else he wouldn't have a good seeker, and he wanted to win the cup just as bad as I did, but it was still awkward.

On Saturday morning, I woke up early so that I could fly around by myself for a while before I had to put up with Hermione. I took a shower and got dressed to go down for breakfast.

The great hall was empty when I got there, but there were a few Ravenclaws who came in just after me. I ate hurriedly, then I stood up to go and get my broom. On the way out, I saw that Draco was heading to the hall for his breakfast. I really wasn't in the mood for a fight so I turned around before he could see me, and I walked straight into Seamus. We both stood there silent, we hadn't spoken since the night in the broom cupboard, since I had been avoiding Cedric and they were always together.

“So, uh, I better get going.” I said, after what felt like forever.

“Yeah, yeah. Me too. Yeah, bye.” he said with a half-wave.

I walked down the steps and out onto the quidditch pitch, flying around aimlessly for a little while. After ten minutes, Hermione still wasn't there. I flew down, sitting on the ground with my legs crossed, picking the grass. It was another twenty minutes before Hermione actually showed up. She came running out to the pitch, with a look on her face that was a mix between worry and anger.

“Why the heck are you so late?!” I yelled at her. “Do you really think I want to be here on a Saturday helping you? Well, I don't. And where the hell is your broom?”

She was hiding her hands suspiciously behind her back. I eyed them, then looked at her face.

“I. Well, I..” she sighed as she pulled out Olivers broomstick from behind her back. The only problem was that it was snapped in half.

“Is that?..” I bit my lip as my eyes widened.

I was suddenly filled with more fury than I'd ever felt. Quidditch was Olivers life. How could he play if he didn't have a broom?

“It was an accident. Please, don't tell Oliver. I'm going to get a new one for him. I just, please don't tell him.” she was speaking so fast that it was hard to make out her words.

“No. You will not bloody get him a new one. You will find him and tell him that you broke his broom. And you will do whatever he wants to try and make it up to him. He's had that broom since he was twelve, you can't just replace it.”

“But, wouldn't a new one be better? You know, faster?” she said, cautiously.

I shook my head, raising my voice even louder “His grandmother bought him that for his birthday, right before she died. You have to fucking tell him.”

She shook her head.

“I can't.”

My anger took over and I leapt at her, punching her hard in the face. I felt hands on my shoulder, and I was suddenly tugged off of Hermione and into a strong embrace. “What the fuck are you doing Alexis.” Oliver whispered into my ear.

“Tell him!” I yelled at Hermione.

She stared at him guiltily, before holding up the two bits of the broom. He stared at them, not saying anything. Then he let go of me and turned, walking away. I knew how upset he had to be. He used to be really close to his grandma, and the broom was the only thing he had left of her.

“Leave. Now.” I said to Hermione, glaring at her.

I hopped back on my broom, and flew around. I figured I should give Oliver some time before I went to follow him.

When I got down to the lake, his shirt was on the ground. He emerged from under the water, right as I sat down.

“Ol, I'm sorry.” I didn't know what else to say to him.

He climbed out of the water, walking over to me.

“It's just a broomstick. I'm not mad, not at you at least. I'm mad at myself. I shouldn't of let her fly it when she had no experience.” he said slowly, playing with his hands.

I was finding it near impossible to not stare at his body. It was so perfect, and he looked so hot with water dripping down his chest. He stood up, and pulled his shirt back on, causing it to cling to his wet body.

“C'mon, let's go.” he said, holding out his hands and pulling me up.