The Keeper

Chapter 5

The songs I listened to are Dream On by Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds, Basket Case by Green Day and Our House by Madness.

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*

Enduring Professor Snape drone about OWL preparation for an hour before lunchtime was difficult. Trying to stay awake was even harder. But the most challenging thing of all was managing all of the homework. Excuses such as 'you need to be ready for your exam period' were thrown around like nothing by our professors, who expected us to have multiple essays completed in impossibly short time periods. I, of course, tried my hardest and more to finish each task that was set. Last night, I had read nearly fifteen chapters on Jupiter's moons, written three pages about bowtruckles and practised the inanimatus conjurus spell over 30 times. Naturally, the only quick relief I could see was spending some time with Sasha and drawing. She was very fond of art too, so we liked to sit - often in silence - and sketch together.

"Have you finished working out your counterjinxes for Quirrell yet?" Sasha asked as she twirled her pencil in her nimble fingers. "Because I may or may not have wasted my work time yesterday by debating with Aleeza over the correct way to hold a quill."

'I've nearly finished," I answered, chuckling. "I've got three counterjinxes left to do. They're so hard."

"How much caffeine did you have?" Oh, she knows me too well.

"None of your business," I laughed. "You know the answer anyway."

"I think there's more caffeine in your system than blood sometimes," she mused.

"To be fair, that's probably rather accurate."

"You do have a taste for muggle drinks."

"I depend on coffee," I remarked. "I depend on it. Don't question what you don't understand. Coffee is brilliant."

"I agree, you know." When I looked up, I was, by now, unsurprised to see Oliver moving to sit next to me.

"Not you too," Sasha said in disbelief. By instinct, I noticed that she had shut her sketchbook too. I had never actually had a proper look inside Sasha's sketchbook and vice versa. She had kindly shown me a few sketches that were nothing short of amazing, but nothing more than that. As someone she trusted, I knew I could never stoop so low as to peek inside. There was mutual trust and that was crucial.

"Afraid so," he replied. "So how are you doing?"

"Tired," I said instantly. "Overworked. Numb. I can continue."

He sighed sympathetically. "Aren't we all? Though I hope you'll be at your best for quidditch. I've been really excited to play against you. I'm expecting a challenge, and I don't mean that lightly."

"No, that's an honour coming from you!" I giggled. "You're an amazing keeper."

"Thank you very much," he replied. Most people I had met who were incredible at something were cocky. Or at the very least, they showed off whenever they good and revelled in the chance to talk about their achievements. Oliver was different. He was humble and genuinely thankful when someone complimented him. That was something I had grown to admire about his character.

"So I assume you both were drawing?" Oliver said.

Sasha cocked her head. "How did you know that?" She hadn't put her sketchbook on full display so she was confused about how he knew.

"I often come here and see Y/N drawing," he explained, "so I guessed you would too."

"Oh, you come here often?" Sasha said. She looked pointedly at me. "Never would've guessed."

"I'm too frat-boy to come here?" He glanced at me and winked.

"Very much," I replied, my mind flicking back to us flying over the Black Lake. "You're a bit too overeager for my liking."

As Oliver and I laughed, I barely registered Sasha's intelligent eyes watching us.

*

"You love him," she teased as we sat in the common room. "You're going to get married and have kids and be happy forever." She prodded my side repeatedly. "You're in love!"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I do not."

"The romantic tension is off the charts," she said. "Y/N, for a genius you can be incredibly oblivious sometimes." She paused. "Can I be your wedding planner?"

Groaning, I whacked her in the face with a cushion. I did not want to deal with Sasha when she was like this because she would never stop. I wasn't sure if she was serious or not about being our wedding planner.

"Since you're both from Scotland, you obviously need to have thistles in your bouquet," Sasha mused. "He'd be wearing a kilt and maybe you'd have a matching tartan shawl for later. Ooh - what's the name of the Scottish dance event thing you like?"

"The ceilidh," I answered, exasperated.

"So you would have that after the actual ceremony. All of this would be in some Scottish castle. Castle weddings are amazing. But where would you honeymoon?"

"Not in love," I interrupted. She didn't notice.

"Maybe somewhere far from here," Sasha continued. "You like travelling so it would make sense."

"Sasha."

"I suppose it depends on when the wedding is."

"Sasha."

"A winter wedding would be beautiful, especially since it'll be in a castle."

"Sasha!"

Snapped out of her rambling, she blinked at me. "Sorry," she chirped.

I waved away her apology. "It's fine."

"You are getting married, though."

*

By bedtime, I was hoping against hope that Sasha would drop the subject of my marriage to Oliver. She wasn't the type of person who forgot things easily, so I knew it was unlikely. My hopes were wiped away when she jumped onto my bed with her notebook on display. The page was full of notes and little doodles.

"I have everything planned!" she exclaimed excitedly.

This time, I consciously tuned out her words and tried to focus on something else. Yet I still found myself imagining what my wedding would be like - in the unlikely case we actually got married. I found myself wanting my husband to wear a kilt while we danced at a ceilidh together. I decided that getting married in winter at a Scottish castle would honestly be my dream come true.

Just not to Oliver. He was my friend and anything more would be weird.