Chasing The Keeper

Hogsmeade Date

Sitting in Potions next to Oliver was quieter than usual. He was scribbling circles in his textbook, that seemed to be representative of different quidditch playing positions. His short hair looked slightly ruffled up, and I could see the light blush always dusting his fair cheeks.

"Hey there Woody," I whispered, letting out a small giggle.

"What do you want Stone?" Oliver said coldly, not even looking at me.

"Who so tense?" I furrowed my brows, putting on my best pouty face, "I'm just trying to say hi."

"Hi." Oliver forced out a smile and finally turned to look at me.

I smiled back, propping my head upon my arms. He too began smiling more freely, his clenched jaw relaxing.

"I'm going on a date again." I said cheerily, "This time voluntarily."

"So I heard," Oliver responded dryly. "Vincent Ford asked you out in front of a huge crowd."

"He seems like a good guy don't you think?" I jokingly pestered Oliver, trying to annoy him with my girly crush.

"Listen if you want relationship advice go ask Snape," Oliver said, rolling his eyes.

"Awh come on Woody, don't be so cranky." I grinned, biting my lower lip.

"I'm not being cranky." Oliver scowled.

"Oh you definitely are." I grinned harder.

"Am not." He said, biting back a smile.

"I prefer you not open your large mouth during work time, Mr. Wood," Snape growled in our direction from his desk. "Five points from Gryffindor."

"Yes sir," Oliver mumbled, his smile vanishing.

I waited for another moment, and prodded Oliver again, with the tip of my quill.

"Trying to get me in trouble again are we Stone?" Oliver grumbled, not looking at me.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to hold a joint practice again." I chuckled, giving his elbow another poke.

"If I say yes, will you stop pestering me?" Oliver sighed, pinching his temples.

"Name a time and place princess." I grinned back, ceasing my poking at his arm.

"Fine," Oliver smiled, jotting down the time on a piece of ripped parchment paper.

~~~

Walking alongside a large group of sixth years, I watched breath clouds roll out in front of me. Hogsmeade was already in my sight up ahead, and I could see the smoke billowing out of chimneys. Frosty air nipped at my cheeks, and I had to wipe my nose multiple times, which was slightly runny. Fresh snow peppered the ground as far as I could look, and it's white sparkles felt nearly blinding at times. My heartbeat quickened with every step that I got closer to the Hogs Head, where Vincent was patiently waiting for me.

I pushed open the oak door of the pub with a loud creak.

I was met with a stuffy atmosphere, feeling almost suffocating compared to the crisp outside air.

It was dimly lit, and cobwebs hung from old wooden support beams, some of which looked dangerously crooked. The old barman wore a threadbare vest that most likely used to be of a rich brown, but had greyed over the years. He was wiping down glasses with a rag so grimy, it looked to be dirtying them more than it was cleaning them. It wasn't overly crowded, but the majority of the customers were all gathered around one area.

As expected, I saw Vincent in the middle of it, casually chatting up some starstruck seventh-year boy, who was too enamoured to do anything other than nod and blink. His eyes almost immediately met my own, and he smiled the sort of smile girls go weak at their knees for.