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Dans La Mémoire D'Elle by moonlitangel
Chapter 1 : Chapter 1.
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 10

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Title: Dans La Mémoire D'Elle

Author: MoonlitAngel

Summary: Oliver reflects on the girl he loved and tells Hermione their story.
Post-Hogwarts.  OW/KT, HP/HG.

Oliver's POV.

Genre: Angst

Disclaimer: Oliver, Harry, Hermione and Qudditch belong to J.K Rowling. Karen, does not belong to me. She is an actual person who goes to my school and is one of my best friends and the current authority on cheezy badgers. Death belongs to God, or Buddha, or
Zeus, or whomever you believe in.

A/N: Special thanks to Rayya, my amazing beta. To Karen, who is...just, really, really cool. And my bestest cheezy badger pal. And lastly, to my amazing boyfriend
Jordan. He is my sun, moon, stars, world, galaxy and all the craziness in
between. Love ya always! And now, ladies and gentlemen, on with the show! Free
kleenex is available in a Kleenex box near you. And believe me, your gonna need 'em!

~Chapter 1. Long Time, No See.

I stood off to the side of the stadium, watching the game. It was ten years
since I had graduated from Hogwarts, but it seemed like centuries. It was, in
reality, three years since I quit playing Qudditch but time had escaped me.
The days just blended together in a gray haze of smoke and booze. But, as I
watched, Harry dove, like a speeding bullet, after the Golden Snitch , and  I
realized that this was no longer the boy I had once known. This was no
awkward thirteen year old hurtling through the air, playing Seeker for
England. It was a man.

Tears stung my eyes. He reminded me  In the old days, I used to play
for Wales. I loved Qudditch! I was the team’s Captain and a damn good one too. Qudditch was my whole life, but then, she came along. We both loved Qudditch. She used to come to all my games and practice matches. I can almost see her cheering me on. My little cheerleader, my little Karen. I shook my head, as if that simple motion could rid me of the memories I ached to forget. I scanned the stands, still blinking back tears, looking for her. Then my eyes found the familiar bushy hair and shining eyes. Hermione. She and Harry had just recently announced their
engagement. I knew, if I could tell anyone my sad story, it was Hermione. She
would understand. I waited for her after the game. As I saw her coming, I
quickly removed the customary cigarette from my mouth and ground the stub under my heel. The last thing I needed was to be chastised for smoking.
"Oliver?! Oliver, is that you?" she gasped.
"No, it's the Tooth Fairy! Of course it's me, ya goose!" I smiled slightly as
she squeezed me hard round the waist. I patted her back and kissed the top of
her head lightly. She was so young, so happy. She was exactly like my little
Karen. Young, radiant, full of love and life, cheering on her man. I felt the familiar ache settle in my chest. Oh Karen! I miss you so!

A well remembered voice dragged me from my memories, back to Earth. "Wood?"
"Hello, Potter." I said, holding out my hand for a handshake because I didn't
know what else to do.
“It’s good to see you, Wood. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes.” I said, echoing his words, “It’s been along time.”
“Harry, why don’t we have Oliver over for lunch tomorrow?” Then turning to me she said, “How ‘bout coming over to our house for lunch tomorrow, Oliver?”
“Sounds good.” I tried to smile at the happy couple, but seeing them so
joyful, so blissful, love. Just like my little Karen and me.

“So, I guess we’ll see you round noonish tomorrow then, Wood. Here’s our
address.” Harry scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“Well, I gotta shower. See you tomorrow, Wood. Bye, love.” with a quick peck
on his fiancee’s cheek, Harry was gone.

“Oliver?” Hermione’s chocolate eyes looked up at me, full of concern. “Is there something you want to talk about?”
“Yes, but not now. I plan to tell you and Harry tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay. Tomorrow then.” She kissed my cheek and gave me a comforting pat on
the shoulder, “Take care.” 
“I will! Now get along and see to Harry. He looked a mite worried.” my
Scottish accent became thicker, as I swallowed the urge to cry. "’Till
"Goodbye, Oliver!" she called over her shoulder. "Goodbye!"

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