The Keeper

Chapter 9

The songs are Teenagers by My Chemical Romance, Semi-Automatic by Twenty One Pilots and Warriors by Imagine Dragons.

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*

A few professors had been lenient closer to Christmas by reducing workload. The other professors insisted we study incredibly hard even though there were no lessons. This meant later nights for most of the year. It also meant Sasha, Aleeza and Louise got to keep me awake until the early hours of the morning gushing about my 'romance' with Oliver or some other trivial topic.

I used the extra time for better purposes, such as getting some extra flying practice with other players. Sasha often came to watch and she'd make cheeky comments, such as "I bet Oliver would be very proud of you." 

For a few days after my visit to Hogsmeade, I would hear whispers when walking through the Great Hall or during lessons. I let their assumptions brush off, answering questions quickly and firmly.

On the last Tuesday before the holiday, I was enjoying a particularly lovely poached egg for breakfast when I was approached.

"Oi, Y/N."

I put my cutlery down and looked up. Walking towards me was a skinny girl wearing Gryffindor robes with blonde hair in a messy bun. Her eyes were narrowed and she was flanked by two shorter girls with the same hair. I groaned inwardly.

"What can I do for you?" I asked politely.

The girl, whose name had passed my mind, giggled. "I just wanted some confirmation on the rumours that I've heard," she explained. I noticed that her cronies looked irritated too. "You see, one of my friends was on a date at Madam Puddifoot's and saw you and a certain Oliver Wood getting very close in the corner. So is it true? Are you two a couple?"

"I think you'll find the answer is no," I replied. "Thanks. Have a nice day." I thought that sentence would be an obvious invitation to leave me alone, but the girls didn't pick up on it.

"But you kissed?"

"No, we really didn't."

"Milly here saw you," the girl insisted. Her friend standing on her left nodded vigorously.

"I can promise you we didn't kiss," I said, my tone becoming harder.

"Then Milly's lying?"

"Afraid so," I said. "Although I suppose it is fun to stir up stories to fuel rumours, isn't it? Goodbye."

I turned back to my plate, making it clear that they should go. They did, thankfully. Sasha clapped me on the back.

"Well done!" she exclaimed. "I hate people like them."

I hummed in agreement, listening to the people sitting around me launch into a long rant about minding people's personal business. To be honest, I thought it a tad hypocritical regarding the immense probing into my friendship with Oliver. I knew they all meant well, though.

When we got to Herbology, we were told to stand in a circle around a table of Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Professor Sprout was listing its properties - something we already had to know for Potions - so I tuned out. I was vaguely aware of occasional whispers around the class, and being naturally paranoid, I assumed they were about me.

My suspicions were confirmed when Sasha elbowed my side and muttered something about people talking about Oliver and me. She tilted her head in the direction of the girls who approached me during breakfast. I sighed.

Deciding it was better to pay attention, I focused on Professor Sprout instead of the petty rumours of people who didn't matter to me. Of course, there was still a little part of me that wanted to walk up to them and backhand them. I resisted though and continued listening to Professor Sprout.

*

At break time, I felt the familiar pull to go to the courtyard. But when I went, I was shocked to see people congregating around the spot. They weren't directly clustered there but it was obvious they wanted to be. Amongst the group were the three girls who approached me earlier. Oliver wasn't sitting there.

Despite the voice in my head telling me to leave, I decided to go sit there anyway. Whispers immediately died away as I walked past. I gritted my teeth.

As I withdrew my sketchbook, the talking resumed. I didn't listen, instead drawing abstract shapes on the paper. Every time I glanced up, eyes that were watching me flicked away, alarmed to be caught staring. I assumed they were hoping that Oliver would show up. He didn't, to my partial disappointment.

He didn't show up during lunch either. The group slowly diminished as time went on, expecting to see Oliver with me. I didn't let it bother me and spent my time drawing rather than obsessing over what they were doing.

At least, until around 11 pm.

"I honestly can't believe people are so infatuated with proving rumours true," I complained, resting my face on my fists. I was sat cross-legged on my bed, ranting to Sasha while the others slept. "Like, please let me get on with my life."

"I feel you," she replied.

I fell back and buried my face under my pillow.

"But it sounds to me like you're overthinking it," she said cautiously.

I emerged quickly. "You know I'm an overthinker. I can't help it."

"People live off gossip. We all enjoy knowing what's going on in other people's lives, admit it. And when one person sees a source for some potential gossip, they feed it onto their best friend who feeds it onto their best friend and so on."

I sighed and let Sasha's incomparable wisdom flow through me.

"Also, this level of overthinking is a bit excessive, even for you," she admitted. I cocked my head. "I know all of us have been teasing you about supposed feelings for Oliver, which I will apologise for if you honestly want us to stop, but I think there's an element of truth."

"Say again?"

"I truly think you have feelings for Oliver," Sasha revealed. "I mean, you did go to Madam Puddifoot's with him. Before you protest, I know it was him that suggested it and you would've felt terrible saying no. But Madam Puddifoot's, of all places."

"Notorious for romance," I mumbled.

"Exactly."

"Thanks for your help, Sasha," I said. I curled up under my duvet and turned off the lights.

In the silence, I reflected on what Sasha had said about having genuine romantic interest in Oliver. I hadn't known him well for very long but in that time we had grown so much closer. I hadn't protested to going to Madam Puddifoot's - not because I was scared of rejecting him, but because I sincerely wanted to go.

Ultimately, I decided to push my thoughts aside for the night and go to sleep.