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I was playing more aggressively than I ever had in my life. I didn't realize until the game started that this was more than revenge. I was in this game showing people that my life wasn't over. It was showing them that Oliver and I wanted this baby, and that I wasn't dead. Life wasn't going to start being bad, and that I need no one's pity. And, on top of that, this game was to kick ass. 


            "And that's another goal for Fallon! She is on fire today! I'd watch my back if I were you Flint!" Lee roared in a magically loud voice. 


            Flint took possession of the quaffle after I scored. The score of the game was Slytherin zero, Gryffindor fifty. Like Lee said, I was on fire, and my girls (and Braeden) were right there with me.


            Anyway, Flint had the quaffle I was racing back to catch up with him but there simply was no way I could catch him. Angelina nearly had the quaffle before she was elbowed in the stomach. He literally crashed through Katie, and Braeden was dealing with a bludgers. Flint decided that instead of trying to miss Oliver he was going to hit him- hard, hard enough to send Oliver, broom and all through the goal hoop. They got the points; it was a legal move.


            I flew fast than I ever thought possible and managed to catch Oliver on the front of my broom.


            "You okay hun?" I asked.


            "Ugh…" He trailed off, "Yeah, help me get to my broom." It was hovering a few feet above us. I rose up, and he grabbed it, and then tossed me the quaffle. Now that I knew he was all right, I was even madder. The move was a legal one, but it was dirty, and only a last resort, which Flint shouldn't have used. 


            "Talk about team work! Excellent display of…whatever the hell that was by Fallon and Oliver Wood," Lee didn't realize he had used Wood for my last name. It wasn't that yet, but I did like how it sounded. Fallon Wood.  Hmm. 


            I tore down the field, and ignored Braeden's calling for a pass. Flint was coming right at me, as if I would swerve away. Ha, that's funny. When he didn't move I just kept going, and literally crashed right through him. He went toppling downward, losing altitude, but he had his broom so he'd fine. I made it to the goal posts and stopped dead. I gave the Keeper a look that wouldn't have just killed, it would have killed, brought you back to life, and then killed you again. He was terrified of it to the point where I simply got within a foot of the post and tossed it in, only to dive down and catch it again. 


            This time the Keeper had gotten his wits about him enough to pay attention, but when he tried to catch it, I'd thrown it hard enough he went through the goal post too. It was much less violent than what happened with Oliver though. 


            The keeper managed to keep it after the goal though, and tossed it to Flint. He tried to start moving again, but I stole it back before he could get more than a foot.


            "This is unbelievable! I've see this girl play for years, but she's is doing…. damn Fallon!" He cried as I scored again. This time the Keeper had enough sense to throw the quaffle to one of his chasers down field, or he tried anyway.


            "Great interception by Braeden!" Braeden tore down the field. He began a passing drill with me, until Flint came upon me. He was ready to do anything he could to prevent my scoring. He punched me, right in the gut. It wasn't hard enough to knock the wind out of me, stupid git, but it was enough to send me over the edge. He only did it because he was trying to hurt my baby. So far in the game I've been keeping it legal. Not any more. Quaffle still in hand, I knocked broom to where he was sitting on his ass, and kicked him in the groin, hard. He literally doubled over, and barely managed to float.


            "I just did the entire wizarding world a favor, no babies for you Flint," I told him in a sickly sweet fake voice. I flew slowly and lazily to the goal post. I stopped in front of the goal posts and faked out the keeper for another score.


            "That is another ten points to Gryffindor. The score is now ninety to ten," Lee announced. 


            I saw Flint fly down, weakly to Madame Hooch. They spoke for a moment before she called all of the player down to her level.


            "Flint has requested I make an inquiry about a foul. Fallon, did you kick him in the groin?" She asked bluntly.


            "Yes, and glad I did too, did the wizarding world a service I did," I answered honestly. Madame Hooch said nothing for a moment, then said:


            "This would be a serious charge, but since I didn't see it I cannot pass a judgment on it. Back to the game!" She roared.


            Flint's mouth dropped a foot, and the entire Slytherin crowd began shouting jeers. A smirk grew on my face as I readied myself to begin, but then I noticed something. Malfoy and Harry weren't here.


            "Where are the seekers?" I roared. Everyone looked around and noticed what I did. We all began jerking to look around, and finally we spotted them weaving in and out each other desperately chasing the fasted moving snitch I'd ever seen. They'd circled the silent pitch three times without making any leeway; finally I got enough sense to order my team.


            "Fred, George, go!" They immediately knew what I was talking about. They chased down the bludgers and with incredible aim sent them flying at Malfoy, forcing him to yield. Harry with an extra burst of speed managed to get the snitch in his fingertips. 


            "And that's it! The Quidditch Cup goes to Gryffindor!" Lee roared. It was an absolute uproar. Everyone was worked into a frenzy. I don't even remember how we got up to Gryffindor tower; I only knew that it happened. 


            Once at the tower, Oliver led me up to our room.


            "C'mon, you need a shower, you're filthy," He laughed.


            "And you're one to talk?" I retorted with a grin.


            "Nope, I'm dirty too. That's why we're going to go shower now.


            Half an hour later we'd gotten out of the shower, and gotten dressed. I knew the party downstairs would be well under way. 


            "C'mon Oliver! They're going to be waiting to make a fuss over our being late down stairs!" I called. Oliver was still in the bathroom for some reason.


            "Sorry, coming," he replied and came out of the bathroom, "I just got a letter from my mum. I was going to read it, but I can read it later." 


            "Okay, lets go then," I replied. He took my hand in mine, and we made our way downstairs for the celebration.

 

            The Next Night      

 

            "Oliver, didn't you want to read that letter from your mum?" I remembered.


            "Oh yeah, thanks hun," He replied. The letter had been in the bathroom because that was where the owl had come, because that was were the only window into our dorm was.  


            He retrieved it from the bathroom and plopped on the bed in front of me. I began absentmindedly massaging his shoulders as he opened the letter.


            "Oh god…" Oliver murmured.


            "Oliver, what is it?" I asked concern in my voice.


            "Oh my bloody Merlin," He swore.


            "Oliver, what's wrong?" I asked, I was becoming scared. 


            "Shit!" He crowed. He slammed a hand on the bed. He stormed out of the room, leaving the letter. I was in shock. I had to know what was wrong before I chased after him. I picked it up and read:

 

            Oliver,

                        I've some devastating news. Your father is dead. He was murdered at pitch. We don't know who or why, but you need to return home as soon as you can. We'll be holding the funeral on Wednesday. Please return soon, I need you.

 

            Love,

                        Mum

 

            I read the letter through twice. I couldn't believe it. The man had been a second father to me, but more importantly, he was Oliver's father…crap! I had to find Oliver! Now!  


            I raced away from the tower after Oliver. Somehow I instinctively knew where he'd go. It always started at the pitch, and it always ended there. 


            "Hey Fallon!" Someone yelled, but I didn't stop to look.


            "Where's your other half Fallon?" Someone else asked, but I didn't stop then.


            "Look, there's Fallon, any more secrets we should know about?" Someone else yelled rudely, but I didn't stop even then. 


            Soon I found myself outside, running across the moonlit grounds toward the almost haunting pitch leering down at me. I knew Oliver was there, and I knew he needed me. 


            I ran to the middle of the pitch and began scan the field. I didn't see him there. I looked all through the stands, but nothing…


            The locker room. Of course. I dashed off toward them knowing that's the only place Oliver could be at this point. 


            I opened the door with a burst. I was too concerned about Oliver to be worried about whether or not I was being quiet 


            He was sitting there, looking completely empty in the eye, as if he was physically there, but mentally…really, he looked as if someone had given him the dementor's kiss. I didn't need to say anything. We'd long since needed words to express anything we were trying to say. I glided quietly over to where he sat silently with his back leaned against the wall. 


            I lowered myself to sit beside him and said nothing for a time. I heard Oliver begin to make these difficult to describe sounds, but basically he was attempting to hold back tears.


            I wrapped an arm around his back and pulled his head to my shoulder, and with this he knew he shouldn't hold back anymore. He began crying in a way I could never remember him crying in. He was crying enough that the shoulder of my shirt was becoming soaked, but I didn't care. He was breaking apart inside, and I was trying my damnedest to help hold him together. I owed him that much, he needed me now as much as I'd always needed him. 


            I began to rock my body a little. It was a soothing motion, I knew. It felt a bit weird at first; because I was a bit smaller than him, but slowly I felt the shudders his body had been making come to a stop. I'd been suppressing my own feelings thus far, because I had to be strong for Oliver. I was fighting to continue so now. Daire Wood, Oliver's father, had been like a dearly loved uncle, a godfather, hell he was my second father. He'd been there for almost as much of my life as my own father had been. He was the one who taught me how to do my first flip for a fake. I choked further emotion back, knowing Oliver needed me to be strong. He couldn’t try and console me as well. 


            Soon his breathing was calm enough that I felt that he was strong enough to talk to.


            "I'm coming with you tomorrow Oliver," I informed him.    


            "I'm glad," He replied in a tone that could only be honesty.


            "I love you, it's going to be okay, I promise," I tried to comfort him.


            "I only believe you because you promise, because I have trouble seeing what is okay right now," He murmured. I found his wand; it must have been in his jeans. I quietly removed the charms on my stomach.


            "That is what's okay Oliver, our little girl. No, she won't know all of her grandparents, but she's going to know her parents well, and you are a product of your father," I replied tenderly. 


            Later we walked silently up to the tower. I could tell there was an air of sadness about us as even the pictures gave sympathetic looks. 


            Oliver crashed as soon as we returned. As he slept I packed a bag for each of us, and sent a letter to Dumbledore through the floo. I simply told him we were required at home and would return at the earliest, sometime next week. 


            I placed the bags on the floor at the end of the bed and set the magical alarm clock for nine-thirty. I placed sound and lock spells on the door. We were sleeping in tomorrow. We both needed it. Finally I wrote a letter to Braeden and left it on the desk. I explained to him what happened, and offered him to come home if he wanted. I knew he would, but he didn't need to go as soon as possible. Oliver did, and Oliver needed me with him.

           

            The Next Morning

 

            The alarm went off quietly, though just loud enough to wake me. 


            "Oliver," I murmured a softer awakening than the alarm clock. "Oliver, wake up, it's time to go home."


            At this his eyes opened slowly. Even at a glance I could see the sadness shining from his eyes. It was enough to shatter the fragile stability my heart had managed to maintain. The safeguard was falling apart, and so was Oliver. 


            "I've already packed, c'mon, let's go home," I murmured again. He nodded and grabbed the bags. Even under all the anguish he felt, he was a gentleman. I lifted the charms from the room. 


            Oliver grabbed some floo powder and gave me a nod, to let me know we'd go together. He then said clearly the name of where we were going, our home:


            "Wood Estate!"

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