Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition Round 11: I Open At the Close

Position:Reserve Beater 1 for the Holyhead Harpies

Prompt: Begin and end with the same word; write something set in the Leaky Cauldron

Word Count (Pages): 2,235

The Tradition

"Coffee."

"Coffee?"

Angelina ignored him and instead continued to address the barman of the Leaky Cauldron. "Black, please, one sugar."

But Oliver Wood was still staring at her, completely aghast. "Angelina," he said, and it came out as somewhat of a whine, "what are you doing?"

Angelina stared resolutely ahead as the barman got to work with their order. She had learned from many a Quidditch session that the best way to deal with Oliver Wood when he got overly emotional (which was often) was just to ignore him and do her own thing. But it had been years since they'd played Quidditch together. And ordering drinks at the Leaky Cauldron wasn't quite as intense as Quidditch training.

Though Oliver was certainly trying to change that.

"I mean, are you…are you ill or something?" He looked quite worried, as though they were still teammates and Angelina's health was of utmost importance.

She was still staring straight ahead. Best not to look him in the eye, she decided. It was too early to tell him—to tell anyone—but Oliver, when he had the look of a wounded animal, was hard to deceive.

"I'm in perfect health," she said, trying to make her tone soft and warm. But she could tell that Oliver was still concerned.

"So why aren't you drinking?"

Angelina finally turned to look at him, a sharp movement accompanied with a forced smile. "Oliver, seriously, I just don't feel like drinking tonight, okay? I'm tired. I have work in the morning, and—"

"But it's a tradition!"

Angelina shrugged. "I'm not stopping the rest of you from doing it."

Oliver, if possible, looked sulkier. "We've done this every year for the past ten years, Angelina. The Gryffindor Quidditch team—we meet up once a year at the Leaky Cauldron, we catch up, we reminisce—"

Angelina was rolling her eyes, leaning on the bar and watching the barman work.

"—we celebrate, we get roaring drunk!"

"Yes, Oliver." Angelina sighed. "But we're not teenagers anymore. We're not even going to be in our twenties for much longer."

Oliver had narrowed his eyes, now looking suspicious.

Oh Merlin, oh Merlin, oh Merlin.

"You're normally the drunkest," he said, still suspicious. "You and George…"

Angelina waved a noncommittal hand. "George will drink enough for the both of us, how does that sound?"

Oliver just shook his head in disbelief. He looked towards the other side of the room, and Angelina couldn't help but follow his gaze. Their numbers were smaller than usual that night. Harry, who was always the most difficult to work around, couldn't make it, and as he usually brought Ginny, they were two down.

It was a tradition. Oliver had tracked them all down about a year after the war had ended, proposing a Gryffindor Quidditch team reunion: George, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, Harry (with Ginny in tow), and himself. It had been difficult to fit in around all their busy schedules, so that meant only once a year, but somehow they had always managed to achieve it. It had always felt somewhat hollow without Fred, naturally, but now that their numbers were down to five, it felt even emptier.

But Oliver was insistent, determined to make it work. And Angelina knew exactly why.

"Just one, Angelina—just some Firewhiskey. I'll pay for it."

"I thought you were paying anyway," Angelina teased. When Oliver looked alarmed, she rolled her eyes. "I was kidding."

"I will pay for it," Oliver went on determinedly. "But not if you get a coffee!"

At that point, the barman returned, handing Angelina a steaming goblet. She took it gratefully, before turning back to Oliver with a raised eyebrow. "Too late."

Oliver scowled.

"Oh, come on, Oliver, don't you think I know why you want everybody to get roaring drunk each time we do this?"

He had the decency to look wary. "It's a tradition," he said, but he sounded uncertain.

She took a sip from her coffee, eyebrows raised again. "It's because you think that if we're drunk, we won't notice. But we do, Oliver. We always do."

The former Gryffindor Keeper had now adopted the shifty avoidant look Angelina had been demonstrating earlier. "I don't know what you mean."

Angelina looked very pointedly at the table across the room. Katie Bell was throwing her head back in laughter at something George had said. To Angelina's satisfaction, Oliver had followed her gaze, and when she stole a look at him, she was satisfied to see that he wasn't smiling. He was looking, with deep pain in his eyes, at their laughing friends. Well, one in particular.

When Oliver realized Angelina was staring at him, a triumphant smirk on her face, he turned away, struggling to hide the sudden flush of his cheeks. "I don't know what you mean," he repeated in a mumble, back to his normal sullen, brooding self.

"Oliver, you've been dancing around this for years. We know you like her. We've always known you like her, and it's always irritated the hell out of us that you've never once acted on it. And then you arrange these little reunions, we all get drunk, you get more confident, you don't think we notice that the two of you can barely keep your eyes, let alone your hands, off of each other…"

The blush in Oliver's face had significantly deepened. "It's not…I just…Katie and I, we—"

"Ha!" Angelina exclaimed so suddenly that Oliver gave a start and several people looked around. "I never mentioned Katie's name."

Olive looked startled.

"There are two girls at that table; I could very well have been talking about Alicia!"

"I was never going to deny it was Katie. But it's… Our relationship is complicated. We—"

"You don't even have a relationship, Oliver," Angelina said. "Why are you holding back? For Merlin's sake, it's been years. She's going to get tired of waiting—she wants this as much as you!"

Oliver and Angelina both looked back at Katie, still tossing her brunette head back in laughter.

Angelina sighed. "I just can't understand why you've never gone after this. I know it's difficult, alright? I know you both live on other sides of the country, that you've both got demanding jobs, and that life's always getting in the way. But I also know," she said suggestively, "that stuff has happened."

Oliver opened his mouth in surprise.

"Katie talks to me, you know? Something you would know if you actually talked to her—and not just at these little reunions."

But Oliver was shaking his head again. "Every time I want to act on it, every time I want to do something, there's always some complication. It's the timing, or she's seeing someone else, or—"

"Only because she's tired of waiting for you."

"But it's...it's just too…."

"Look," Angelina said sternly, "if George and I can make it work, so can you and Katie."

"It's different."

"It's not."

Oliver had opened his mouth to further protest, but the rest of their drinks had arrived, and the barman was looking aggravated at their continued loitering. Together, the two of them manoeuvred the four goblets of Firewhiskey and one of coffee back to their table. "Don't think this has distracted me from the fact that there's obviously something you're hiding about why you're only having a coffee," Oliver said out of the corner of his mouth.

Angelina said nothing. She just smiled.

"On you marks, get set… drink!"

Angelina watched with deep amusement as the four of them raised their goblets to their lips for the fourth time that evening, their reactions a lot slower, their movements a lot messier, but the determination in their eyes still as fierce.

It wasn't so bad, she thought happily as Alicia managed to miss her mouth completely and poured the entire contents down her front. Angelina had worried she'd feel left out, isolated, with them all drinking and her, for the first time, not. George had even offered beforehand to not drink either—to support her.

But Angelina had declined, insisting that it wasn't necessary, and she was glad she had. She was still having just as much fun, she was still laughing as hard as the others, all with the added benefit of being able to observe their drunken antics with the satisfying knowledge that she would remember every single interaction even if they didn't.

It warmed her heart to see Oliver lightening up. His arm was resting against the back of the booth seat he and Katie were sharing. Angelina wondered whether he was even aware of it, or if it had just sort of happened. And she couldn't tell whether Katie was happily oblivious or secretly thrilled.

Angelina took a sip of her fresh coffee, smiling to herself.

In some ways, it was like they were all still teenagers. These little reunions were a way for them to relive their youth, if only for a night. It was a chance, as Oliver had rightly said, to relax, to reminisce, to celebrate.

Angelina glanced at George. Katie had abandoned her attempt at downing her drink the fastest to help mop up Alicia, but the boys hadn't noticed.

Boys, Angelina thought in disbelief. But they weren't boys anymore. They weren't teenagers—none of them were. Somehow, somewhere along the line, they had all grown up. Still staring at George, Angelina suddenly felt indescribably sad.

She could pinpoint exactly how they'd all grown up. Exactly why they'd all been forced to. And even though those days of war were long gone, it still haunted them all.

She looked away from George.

Some more than others.

They didn't talk about Fred very much anymore. At first, it had been part of the healing process for both of them—part of the reason they'd gotten so close. It was good for George, and even though she'd convinced herself she was only doing it to help him, it had been good for Angelina too. But those first few vulnerable years were over, and though there was still a deep sadness on both of their parts, there was also a sense of catharsis. George was the happiest he had been in years.

Especially with… recent developments.

Angelina took another sip of coffee. She wondered, perhaps, whether George would want to honour Fred, if it was a boy…

Katie had just about finished mopping up Alicia, both of them giggling, as both Oliver and George slammed their goblets down at almost the same time. But Angelina wasn't paying attention to either of them, because she had just seen something that made her freeze in shock.

It was Oliver who first noticed Angelina's expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding remarkably sober for a man who'd just downed his fourth goblet of Firewhiskey.

George's overprotectiveness kicked in. "Wait, what's wrong?"

But Angelina didn't respond to either of them. She just continued staring at Katie. Soon the other girls caught on, looking, with innocent concern, to Angelina.

"I—nothing," Angelina said breathlessly. She hadn't once blinked since she'd seen it, and now she felt like an idiot for not having noticed it once the whole evening. But then again, Katie had had her left hand very casually resting in her lap, only using her right hand to drink, almost like she'd purposefully been trying to conceal it. "Katie," Angelina said, still breathless, "congratulations."

Three pairs of eyes turned sharply towards Katie, who offered a timid smile. "Thank you."

"What's she talking about?" Oliver asked a little too sharply. "What's going on?"

Katie stared at Oliver with, if Angelina wasn't mistaken, deep apology in her eyes. Wordlessly, she held up her left hand, where a very shiny, very new ring sat on her fourth finger.

Angelina'd heart broke for Oliver as he stared at Katie's hand. When he finally spoke, it was with the hoarsest, most broken voice Angelina had ever heard. "You're…engaged."

"Only for a week," Katie said quietly.

Oliver automatically reached for his goblet, but then seemed to remember it was empty and let his hand rest awkwardly on the table. He was no longer looking at Katie. He was looking, with great determination, anywhere but at her.

"We should, erm, get another round," Oliver said. "To celebrate." He didn't even wait for a response before he hastily departed from the table.

Nobody spoke. Katie looked like she might cry.

"You should have told him straight away," Angelina said, when it became apparent no one else was going to offer up conversation. Alicia and George both still looked dazed.

Katie smiled sadly in response. "I didn't know how. And besides." She looked, very knowingly, at Angelina's almost empty coffee. "I didn't know if you were going to make your announcement first."

That seemed to reanimate George. He tried to feign obliviousness. "Err…what announcement?" he asked.

Angelina internally cursed herself. Of course Katie knew. Both girls had tried to conceal their big news, and it seemed neither had succeeded.

Their annual tradition had certainly taken a surprising detour. She wondered what would happen next year—wondered whether there would even be a next year. Harry and Ginny were already dropping out, and soon Katie would have a husband (would Oliver even come if Katie brought her husband?) and she, Angelina, and George would have a child...

Angelina drained the last of her coffee.