You and Oliver had dated for three years. Three long years. You knew everything about each other, every thought in each other's minds. Or.. You thought you did. At the end of your 6th year at Hogwarts, the fighting began. It was a new argument every day, charged by Oliver's fiery Scottish temper and your refusal to lose an argument. Unfortunately, due to the stress of Quidditch and your academics, your relationship couldn't withstand it. You suffered a messy breakup, throwing a wrench into everything the two of you had built at Hogwarts. You had mutual friends, mutual hobbies, and now, everything was down the drain.

At the start of 7th year, it became very evident to all of your friends that things had ended badly. You and Oliver barely spoke to each other, but cried and confided to your close friends. Things were tense at every party, every meal time, in every class -- you refused to be friends. You refused to admit you wanted to fix things or that you were wrong.

Tonight, there was a party in the Hufflepuff common room. Oliver, fresh off from a Quidditch win, was in good spirits. He sat in the back of the room, laughing about something dumb with his friends. Until he saw you. A cocky Slytherin stood in front of you, obviously stream lining lame jokes into you and Ginny's ears. Oliver swore under his breath. His gaze narrowed the moment he saw the Slytherin lean in a little too close to you. His heart pounded, the usual rush of adrenaline hitting him like a Quaffle to the chest.

His friends began to pick up on what was about to happen, but before they could stop it, Oliver was off with a simple "Nope."

Fred attempted, "Oliver, don't--" But by that time, Oliver was feet away.

"Well, well, ain't this a wee little show? You're outta your depth, bloke." He addressed the Slytherin boy.