The Crimson Warrior

Rhiannon Zanetti and Oliver Wood were certainly not what one could call a 'normal' pair. They had met in almost the same spot that they had stood in now when Rhiannon was eleven and he was thirteen. She had been with her father looking for a new broom for her pitch at home and Oliver had been looking for a new play book. Of course, it had been Oliver that collided into her that time. Since then they were inseparable. He kept her company on the train into Hogwarts and cheered like mad when she was put into the same house he was. She had never made the team but she played just as hard with Fred and George as anyone else had, and helped Oliver come up with some of his best moves. People had always said that they were perfect for each other, but neither seemed to ever pay attention to that. Their love of the game was too strong to allow them to see what was in front of them. Though she had no objection to admitting that she was the only one who really understood him.

But of course, all great things come to an end. Oliver left school, joined Puddlemere and hardly looked back. The pain that Rhiannon felt was unmatched by anything she'd ever felt. Sure, she had her best friends but it was nothing compared to the friendship that she had with him. Lythia, Laura and Jocelyn were there for her every need, but none of them, not even Lythia could match up to Oliver. He was strong and made her feel always protected, and after he left she turned into something she thought she never could.

She began to notice the little things in life. The way that she felt when she was with her sisters. The way that she felt when they had their very best, and very worst times together. She couldn't help but notice the way that she felt when Voldemort returned and she could do nothing about it. But of course, she did. She, Lythia, Jocelyn and Laura all did, really. They were there that night. Rhiannon's eyes watched as Neville Longbottom, one of Laura's closest friends stood up to the dark lord and challenged him. It was foolish, the rest of them thought, but Neville survived and it awakened an entirely new person inside of all of them. They fought that night. They fought harder and longer for something that most of them barely understood. But she did. Rhiannon knew exactly what she wanted.

He was there. Fighting alongside his closest teammates, and as Rhiannon the adult looked up into the grey pools of Oliver Wood she frowned, remembering as she paralyzed Death Eater after Death Eater for him; and he didn't even notice. She, the harsh and tactless warrior had timelessly saved him from harm as he forced his way through the crowds to save his friends. Oh yes...she very well knew how she felt now.

"Oliver..." she whispered as if to make sure it were true. Her feet wanted to walk backwards and away from him, but somehow she was moving forward a step.

"Wow," he said as he looked her over. She had most certainly filled out since the last time he'd actually noticed her. "You look great," he complimented and held out his hand to her.

"Yeah...you too," she nodded, not really needing to look over his muscular, toned form. "What're...what'ya doin' 'ere?" she asked, then blinked herself back into reality and gripped his hand to give him a firm handshake, though Oliver had other plans.

He was always so much stronger, so when he held her hand still and looked into her eyes she wasn't surprised. "I was...looking for a new book, actually...funny I always run into you when I need one of those," he mused, then let his fingers slowly slip away from her own. She played hard, but she was soft, as always. "You uhm...still living with your da?" he asked. She nodded dumbly in response.

"Yeah...y'know...vineyard needs to be looked after while they're gone on vacation and what not. It's a nice place to stay really, the pitch is there and the girls come over all the time to keep me company so it's not like I'm lonely or anything," she paused, thinking that must have sounded rather desperate. "And I'm not lonely either, by the way, Oliver Wood so you can just forget about thinking about feeling proud of yourself for that!" she spat firmly with her arms folded. Yep, that was Rhiannon. Tactless and blunt as ever.

"Uh, yeah...this probably isn't the best time to bring that up, Rhi," he suggested, looking around him to make sure no one was looking.

"Rhiannon," she corrected.

"What?"

"You heard me. Rhiannon,' she reminded as she bent over and picked up her book, 'my friends call me Rhi...but you stopped being that a long time ago didn't you, Oliver."

Her voice cracked when she said that, and Oliver couldn't help but notice it. He opened his mouth to argue with her but it only took a second for her to storm off in the other direction, leaving Oliver to stand in the isle full of play books and posters of Quidditch players looking down at him and shaking their heads. "She's right," he whispered to himself, folding his arms and leaning against one of the stacks.

He realized then what he had thrown away. The war hadn't just woken Rhiannon up, but it left him feeling things he'd never felt either. He didn't know what this feeling was, but whenever he thought of her he knew that he had to put things right. If she was still living at the old villa in Sicily he would go there. Then she couldn't run away.