I Remember You [TAG: LUCAS]

"Thank you so much for your time Miss Evans." Said one of the many reporters from before her to which Amelia could only manage a nod and a grunt before rising to her feet along with her coach and teammates. These preseason (and eventually post game) interviews with the mass of reporters was probably her least favorite thing that came with the sport that she loved. But she had to do it, it was mandatory for all players, so sit through it she did just to keep her coveted spot on the team and within the ranks.

She especially didn't feel like being present for the event today because her and Oliver had gotten into another row early in the morning which had resulted in him casting a spell and a bruised eye. Nothing a little foundation makeup couldn't fix (or cover it up as the case may be) because frankly she lacked the magical skill to erase it completely and she wasn't about to go to a doctor and document how it had occurred. Luckily no one seemed to notice and she never really liked answering interview questions in the first place so her quiet grumbles were taken as 'more of the same' from the USA Quidditch Keeper.

Now dismissed she separated from her room down a long empty hallway. Resting her back against the wall she retrieved a compact mirror and powder tin from her purse and hurriedly began blotching at her eye. At the sound of footsteps she suddenly looked up but upon seeing who it was her surprise was replaced with defensiveness. "You." The bitterness and anger clear in her voice but she was also distracted by what she was trying to do. "Long time no see." She brushed him aside turning her back to him as she continued to apply her makeup before snapping it shut and shoving it back into her bag. "I don't know if you noticed but you're in the wrong place. Your fellow Puddles aren't here."

Another season was coming up, so it meant back to the daily grind and the endless press conversations. Luckily Puddlemere had already gotten through most of their interviews and had a day or two off of them. And they had already gotten their practice in. But that didn't stop Lucas heading back to the stadium after a quick break to let his dogs out for a quick run. He was back to hit the gym in the stadium to put in some extra work. It was what he did. He put in so many extra hours just to keep his spot on the team. He may be consistently one of the top scorers and making an impact but he never thought his job was safe. Not with his father.

So he was wondering down the hallway, still dressed in press ready attire just in case a reporter saw him, but there was a gym bag slung over his shoulder with his work out gear. He just wished he could let his play determine his status on the team, and not have anything to do with his father's feelings towards him. Just walking down the hallway he looked tired. He had been tired for years but he did his best to hide that.

He was looking at the floor when he heard a familiar voice say something to him. He knew who it was without looking but he lifted his head up to look at her anyway. "Nice to see you too." He said, mild sarcasm coating his voice. Ever since the morning after that wonderful night she had been so cold towards him. He hated it. Here he was on a team he didn't want to be on with the women he had liked since school hating him for being on that team. "It doesn't matter if they're here or not. I'm here to work out. I'm allowed to. Right? " He had watched her powder that eye. It was just her eye too. Odd. "What's with the eye?" he asked. He wasn't about to tell to tiptoe around it. They likely wouldn't talk for long anyway. The usually hadn't.

"I didn't say it was nice." She snipped coldly, turning away from him careful of how much of her face she showed. There was no missing the unusual sarcasm in his voice. At Hogwarts when he had jabbed her there had always been a hint of warmth to it. She could still tell that he liked her despite the words he was trading with her. Now there was no sign of that. Not anymore and understandably so. She had no choice but to return the gesture and give it right back to him.

"You can do whatever you want. I guess it's nobody's business but your daddy's." With any luck Lucas would just walk right on by and not notice a thing. Nope. She was wrong there too. Because he had gone and done what he always did: Surprised her. "Huh?" At his question about her eye she choked on her own inhale and cleared her throat quickly turning even more to him so she was sure he could only see her back and nothing else. "I don't know what you're talking about." She covered, pulling her bag closer to her side and clutching at the fabric. "And it's none of your business." There you have it. Two conflicting responses but that would have to do.

"Honestly Hart. Don't you have somewhere to be?" She huffed her insistence. It was more so an order than a question and she crossed her arms over her chest still not facing him.

The sarcasm was a defense mechanism. Here was this woman who he cared so much for, but who had also crushed him after lulling him into a false sense of calm. Knowing what life could be like and having it ripped out straight from under you. It was hard. His eyes, if studied enough, showed the hurt and dishearten feelings he had managed to try and subdue at least consciously. He simply shrugged when she snipped at him about the nice thing. It hurt, but what else was there to do? This had been going on for 5 years at this point. The worst part was hating himself more because of this. Losing someone he cared about like that, made him hate himself more for taking away the person his father cared for. He'd been the reason his father lost his mother.

"My father has nothing to do with any of this." he said coldly. Except his father had everything to do with everything in Lucas' life. He had spent the last 5 years forced to go to meetings he didn't want to go to with friends of his father's just so his father could gloat about his son. And his father had always held that contract over his head. Lucas had just tried to keep his head down and perform well, but was growing more and more miserable. His father was the reason he was here to work out. His father was the reason the night with Amelia had ended terribly.

But his father was also the reason Lucas could tell when someone was trying to hide a black eye. He had had several in his life from the man, most noticeably when his father broke his cheek bone. He even had a black eye the day he left for Australia. Both that time, and the times he went to back to school with one, he had had to hide it. Of course instead of make up, he used magic ointments and such, but it was the same principle. Of course she turned away from him more so he couldn't study her face more. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side and said "What I'm talking about it the black eye you're covering up." he said quietly, hoping no one else would hear. Even with them at odds, he wouldn't want that getting out. "Get hit at practice?" He asked, going for the obvious answer.

"Honestly?" He asked "I have no where else to be after working out, so no. No where else to be." His life was somewhat pathetic. Mostly just practice, the extra work outs, and being at home. Occasionally his teammates tempted him out to the bar, but he rarely went to big parties, just in case he saw her.

"Your father has everything to do with everything that you do." She responded back just as coldly not missing a beat. Her fingers reached up to smooth out and blend the makeup that was currently covering the damage around her eye. With her back turned to him she was hoping that Lucas couldn't see what she was doing. But of course, as luck would have it, she was completely wrong there like she was with most things. "Why don't you go and find him. You're usually up his ass by now, no?" She continued to prod him in hopes that he would just leave her alone. Amelia knew how to hold a grudge and the one remaining from that night at her place nearly a year or so prior had held on. She had made sure to make any interactions with Lucas piss poor ones and she had no wish to change that now.

"Huh? What?" Amelia looked at him briefly with a frown, and confused furrowed brow. Merlin, he was leaning against the wall. Pretty much making himself at home in the hallway. He wasn't going anywhere soon. "Yeah. Practice." Shoot. He had noticed. God, why hadn't she thought of the practice excuse before? As a Quidditch player it would have made way more sense than trying to cover it up. "Not that it's any of your business but we were running drills and wouldn't you know it I got distracted and the Quaffle went phht.. Right through." She lied gesturing with her hands showing a gap as if that could have been what happened. The truth was any keeper with a year's worth of experience would have never had their hands at the ready like that and Amelia.. Distracted from Quidditch by anything? That was the most unbelievable thing ever. She loved the sport. She ate, drank, and breathed it. The story she was painting was all a bunch of hogwash.

"Why does it matter to you?" She demanded quietly, finally turning to face him once she was certain the mess was all covered. Her arms crossed over her chest now on the defense.

Her statement was true in every sense of it. Everything he did was driven by the hell he had been through as a child. "I want nothing to do with him" he said coldly with fingers curling just a little reflexively. Yet he knew if it came to it he'd be cowering with his father having all the power. He doubted he was strong enough to battle his father. Even with years of working on improving speed with spell casting and working on improving his ability to cast spells without a wand, he doubted he had the ability to fight back. In his mind he was still the 8 year old child cowering while his father whipped his belt at him. His father was also the reason he was on such bad terms with her. He had to go and buy him and stick him on the team with wood and such.

"Your black eye" He said simply. Unfortunately it was a pretty visible injury, and while she had applied makeup it was easy for him to tell what that was from. Of course he tried to give her an out, especially as their interactions weren't usually that long, seeing as he had gotten a couple black eyes legitimately from practice. But her not paying attention didn't make sense with her. "Sure..." He said the sound of disbelief clear in his voice. He wondered if there was some reason she was hiding the real cause. Of course maybe he should just leave it and walk off. It seemed clear she didn't want anything to do with him.

Why did it matter to him? Even after all of this time on bad terms with her, he still cared for her. He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind, even with the tension. But she didn't need to know that right? So he shrugged and said "Just curious I suppose. Plus there are creams and such you could use to make it go away." maybe a little bit of a peace offering would help?

"Well, that's going to be tough. He pays your bills." She grumped back. Avoiding his father, for whatever reason (she long ago lost belief in the real reason a ways back), would be difficult. His dad own the man's team, the stadium. If he wanted to escape, for whatever silly reason, it would involve a great deal of jumping through hoops. She didn't envy him. Well, maybe the part where his life seemed to be made without any effort. That part was probably a nice thing to fall back on even if it didn't strike her particular fancy.

He wasn't buying her story so, in a fight or flight response, she chose to fight... With words at least. "What? I can get distracted if I want, Hart. I've had a lot on my mind lately. It happens. Shut up." It all came out in a rush, mainly because she was becoming increasingly flustered, and she turned away from him again tucking some brown hair behind her ear. Damn him for getting to her. Getting under her skin. He always had a knack for that just like Wood had a knack for spell casting that she couldn't match nor ever dream of fighting against with anything other than quips.

But then he brought up something that she could actually use that had her turning around again. "Creams? What kind of creams?" She asked seriously, still feeling a bit awkward about trying to make conversation. Keeping her head slightly lowered so to avoid his prying eyes at her mostly hidden bruise she shifted unsurely where she stood. "Where can I get them?" Hopefully quietly and no questions asked. That's the best scenario that she could go for if Lucas even wanted to volunteer the information.

"Not exactly." He said. Most of the money he earned from Puddlemere was donated to some charity or another. He didn't want his father's money. He kept a little for a rainy day, but most of his bills were still being paid for by the money he had earned in Australia. Maybe it would change at some point, but if he could push off feeling completely dependent on his father. He hated this control his father had over him. He thought he had escaped it all. Only to find out it had all been for show. He'd never escape. Not if he stayed in the sport. Was it worth the control to play the sport he loved? It was something he had been debating. The feeling of having no control plus the constant speculation he only had his place on the team because of his father was wearing him down.

In times past maybe she would tell him what had happened. Or wouldn't find herself needing to lie about the injury. But he understood the need to, even for self-preservation. How many people had he told that the scars on his back were from Quidditch or from a fall from a tree when he was a child? "Usually the only thing on your mind is quidditch. Unless you're starting to lose your edge." He doubted it, but who knew. He was still playing at a high level, but the other things were pushing him to feel like he was losing his edge.

He watched her turn back around when he mentioned the creams. "Magical creams." he said matter of factly. It was amazing how many things wizards had come up with to address issues. There were even quick spells to fix broken bones. Not that that had helped when he was little. Especially as he couldn't cast spells outside of school until he was 17. When she asked where she could find some he sighed slightly. He didn't know why, but he swung his gym bag around to the front of him and then dug through it and came up with a small container. He took a small step towards her and held it out. "You can get it places with cures for magical ailments." he said before continuing "Or you know someone who knows how to make it." He had learned to make it in school, after coming back from winter break in his 6th year with a black eye and bruised ribs. It had taken him a while, but it was often handy to have on hand. "Oh and it looks like a moisturizer if anyone asks what it is." Just in case someone is hurting you and you don't want to let them know what is is. He hoped it wasn't, but then again he knew what it was like to want to pretend something hadn't happened.

"Take that back. Right now." When he insinuated that she might be losing her edge her eyes immediately narrowed, daggers practically shooting out of them his way. Lucas better be grateful that she wasn't too skilled with magic or he would be dead on the spot. Any insult would have been better than even remotely hinting at the fact that Amelia was losing her touch in Quidditch. Her talent was all she had and someone would take that away from her when they could pry it from her cold, dead ends. Not in this lifetime. Maybe not even in the next. "Now, Hart." She insisted with a growl her hands clenching into fists. Was this how Oliver Wood felt all of the time? She sure didn't like it but she didn't like Lucas' remark any better. Would he stop at nothing to hurt her emotionally? It sure felt that way.

"I meant why are you back here bugging me." He stepped toward her and she took a step back. So unlike her considering how combative she could be when challenged but this was a different dynamic. This player had hurt her in ways she couldn't describe to him or admit to herself. "You're offering this to me. Why exactly?" The small, circular tin of cream being offered was just enough to distract her and her eyes moved from the tin, to the man, then back to the tin. Should she really trust him? Certainly not after all they had been through but even so a small part of her still wanted to. Was she daft or just stupid?

"I don't need your help." She brushed his comments off, but even with her disparaging remark she reached out quickly to snag the tin and shove it into her own bag. She didn't need help from anyone... Even if she did. "Thanks.." She muttered, keeping herself in check trying to be polite even when she didn't want to be or think that someone deserved it. Her parents had raised her better than that and though she rarely saw them anymore she still tried to represent them when she could especially when the world was so scary and nasty that all good disappeared. After the Battle of Hogwarts it was hard to find anything good... Death threats and a hurt heart could do that to a gal. 

"Is this funny to you, Lucas?" She insisted with a heavy, tired sigh turning to face him again. She was tired trying to figure this out and being angry with him every waking second was exhausting. "I mean do you get some sort of sick joy of coming back around and making me feel terrible. You can't play your way out of a paper bag so you decide to try and mess with my game. Is that it?" Another big sigh. "Because I'm really tired of trying to defend myself from you all of the time when you can just back off and give me space." 

He knew she wasn't losing her edge. He had seen her play enough. It was still preseason, but he was sure she was still at the same level if not better. "Do you really think I think you're losing your edge? Please." Sure they weren't really friendly, but that didn't mean he would question her ability to play quidditch. He knew what that was like as well. It seemed as though no one thought he actually had the skills to play on the team. It frustrated him to no end. "but you rarely miss something easy." he said before adding "what happened?" he saw how her hands clenched. But what was he going to do? He wasn't about to hit her. He never wanted to hurt her, and having seemingly hurt her when he didn't tell her about his trade made it even worse.

"I didn't come back here with the intention of bugging you." no he had run into her on the way to the gym. He didn't quite know why he was offering to help her. Maybe it was because of that deep down feeling of wanting her to be okay. Wanting her to be happy. He couldn't do much to help that, but offering her a cream to help with something like that was the least he could do. "because I know what it's like to want to pretend something didn't happen." He said with a shrug. He wanted to pretend his father didn't completely have control over him and had since he had been born. Hiding everything from the outside was the least he could do.

So he just stood there with the tin in his outstretched hand. He didn't really need it as much as maybe she did. Most of his bruises now were from quidditch and easy to explain. "I know you don't." He said with a shrug. But then she took it from her hand and he let his arm come back down and he closed the gym bag back up "youre welcome" he said quietly with a nod. He just hoped she wasn't in a situation she would be in real danger. At least that would help with the cover up.

"none of this is funny to me Amelia." He said glancing down at his feet. Of course she went back to insulting his play. He was at least on the field every game, unlike Wood. But he was trying to find the joy in playing again. It was hard with all the other things going on associated with him being on puddlemere. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He said quietly looking back up at her. He was being truthful. He found it hard to lie to her. He always had. "you don't need to defend yourself. I was just asking."

"You're the one who said it." She muttered bitterly, shrugging her shoulders as she turned away from him. She was shutting down... And fast. She didn't like discussing her personal life as is, she was never very good at it, but something like this if it got out there would be hell to pay for multiple parties not just herself. "Then what the hell did you come here for, Hart? Huh?" Amelia demanded impatiently. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Why did he always have to somehow find her and weasel back into her life? It would be so much easier if he just let her be and she could pretend that he didn't exist. That nothing had happened and everything was fine. Because her life could never be that simple that's why.

She wasn't about to answer his questions. Nor did she plan on giving him anymore information than he already had. That would just lead to more trouble. And so she swallowed, turning back to face him matter of factly. "Thank you for the cream. I'm afraid if you don't believe what I just told you, for whatever ridiculous reason, there's nothing I can do because that's what happened." She shot his attempt at connection down with a tone that better fit wishing someone a good day. Perhaps that's why it was all the more hurtful. 

"Of course I'm ok. I obviously don't need anyone checking in on me because I'm fine. Got it?" She glared at him, lying through her teeth. She didn't even believe her own words though she tried like hell to sell them. As she looked up into Lucas' eyes she never felt more helpless but she couldn't let it show. She couldn't be weak not even for one second and least of all with him in the picture. That ship had sailed she kept telling herself. A highschool crush that could have turned into something more if she hadn't been lied to (in her mind). Besides, she was with Wood now and aside from the occasional black eye things were great. Right?! 

"Why wouldn't you be fine?" Came Oliver Wood's voice as he approached the pair immediately slinking his hand possessively around Amelia's waist his dark eyes never once leaving Lucas. Watching him like a hawk. "Sorry hun. That took a little longer than I expected." Still he kept his eyes on his teammate. "Hart. You looking for something?" 

"Funny never knew you do take everything so literally." Maybe he should have kept walking, even when she had called him out. What was this doing except to further drive a knife into their relationship. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't as though there was ever going to be a fix to their relationship right? Maybe it would just be best to try and move past her. But in the last couple years, regardless of the relationships he had tried to have, nothing had seemed to come close to her. Even when all they had shared a couple of kisses. Why did he torture himself by continuing to interact with her? Maybe being tortured was a comfort to him, something normal to fall back into. Getting out of the sport would also mean not seeing her as much. "I told you I came here to work out. This happens to be on the way there. You're the one who said something to me in the first place."

Why would she answer his questions. Maybe it was just a habit from when they trusted each other. When things were more simple. But those days were long gone. "You're welcome." he said with a quick nod, leaning back against the wall again from where he had moved off to give her the cream. "Have it your way." There was no reason to think she really had been hit with a Quaffle at practice like that. But the tone at which she shot him down just served to drive that dagger in further. The dagger that had been there since she kicked him out because he had been traded.

"Loud and clear." But he didn't really believe her. Something just told him things weren't okay. But she didn't want anything to do with him. Just another reason to keep pushing through his miserable life. But he was 10 years past Hogwarts. How easy would it be to change jobs now? He couldn't change teams, that was clear. Even if there were teammates he hated. Well just one. The one who happened to come walking up as he was leaning there. He glanced over to Wood and watched him come over and take Amelia by the waist. Wood's eyes never left him, and Lucas returned the favor. Watching for any signs of anything going on. "Not looking for anything. Just enjoying this lovely hallway. I'm supposing you managed to finally get out of that paper bag to make it here." His voice was tinged with disgust for the man. At least he had the good fortune to actually play every game. Unlike Wood who only got a chance when Romy couldn't play.

"Huh?" Oliver questioned his teammates response with a raised brow. Maybe after a few interviews he wasn't as quick as he normally was then again Oliver had always been more obsessed with Quidditch playbooks than quick comebacks so maybe he wouldn't have had a response even if he had been well rested and ready to go. Amelia had been the one able to hold her own on the pitch and with the trading of words. It was never Oliver's forte. "I was heading that way myself. Was going to get some laps in after Evans and I get lunch." Old habits died hard and so did the one where he referred to Amelia by her last name. She also called him by is. Not exactly the most couple-y of things they could be doing but Amelia was also never much of one for pet names. They made her uncomfortable. It would take someone exceptional and special to change her mind on that matter.

"He's not bugging you, is he?" Oliver asked her like Lucas wasn't even standing across from them. He gave her another squeeze out of possessiveness as if to warn the man in the hallway with them who belonged to who. Why couldn't he just go away? It was bad enough Lucas had to see him in practice, games, everywhere, but now he was still hanging around his girl? When would he learn?

"Always. But it's ok." Came Amelia's snippy response, somewhat muffled as she did her best not to look at either of them. If she looked at Lucas he would know something was wrong. If she looked at Oliver he would see that something was wrong and there would be hell to pay later. 

"Evans? The Daily Prophet has some follow ups." Came a voice through the open door. She politely nodded to both men before leaving the hall and left Oliver alone with Lucas which he immediately took advantage of.

"I told you to leave her alone, Hartwell." He said in a quiet voice, luckily he wasn't drunk or he would have been more reactionary. Still he was hanging by a thread. "She's my girl and she doesn't want anything to do with you. I thought I made that clear at the party but apparently not. I'm your teammate you deal with me. Not her." Reaching into his pocket he retrieved a small flash and unapologetically helped himself to a sip. "Don't make me get the coach involved. Last thing he needs to know is that one of his players is stalking another's fiance." He smiled a bit seeing the look on Lucas' face. Good. "That's right." His hand went in his pants pocket and he pulled out a small box. "Just waiting for the right moment." He pocketed it again, patting it. "Life isn't always fair. You got the starter spot on the team but I got the girl."

He raised an eyebrow when Oliver proved, once again, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the tool box. Sometimes it was quite fun to poke fun at him like this. It wasn't nearly as fun as it had used to be with Amelia. Back when they had gotten along. But sometimes it was all he could do to pass the time and make having to work with the guy just a little bit easier. Apart from the fact being on Puddlemere meant being with under his father's thumb, the worst part was having to put up with Wood on a long term basis. The guy he was jealous of, since Evans always seemed to run back to him. He still didn't know what she saw in him. "Well I shall be sure to get my full workout done before you get done eating." The less he had to see of his teammate the better. Anyone else, and he wouldn't mind waiting to have a buddy to work out with, but not Wood.

Oliver seemed to be making a show of keeping Evans close. But she was looking away. Something just didn't seem right in this situation. She didn't even have to look at him for him to get a bad vibe. Maybe he was just imagining it. Wouldn't be the craziest thing with how he felt about the guy in front of him, but he just didn't know. She didn't seem to be her confident self. She had been that person just moments before without Wood there. Was he the one who had given her the black eye? Not that it was at all the place to ask. Not if she was in danger.

Of course she got called into do some more questions, and the moment she was out of earshot Wood turned on him. "I was leaving her alone. She's the one who stopped me as I was walking by." He said, not standing down. He didn't own her. If she wanted to be friends, she could. Not that she wanted to. "No you don't want me to have anything to do with her. And she's a big girl she can talk to whoever she likes." Of course it was then the guy pulled out a flask. Lucas could guess what was in it. "I'm not stalking anyone. I'm at a quidditch stadium. She plays quidditch. I play quidditch. Easy enough to bump into one another. You drinking on the job though. Man I'm sure the coach would love that." But at the mention of fiance there was a hint of surprise and jealousy on his face. He tried to hide it, but he wasn't so successful. But it wasn't like he had ever had a chance with her. "If you're so sure she's going to say yes, why are you forcing her to only see the people you want her to see?" It was becoming clearer every moment he spent talking to Wood that the answer to that question was control. "Who said anything about me wanting the girl anyway? I've barely seen her in 10 years." Except he certainly wanted the girl. Just had no chance with her.

"Didn't look like you were. In fact it looks like you've been her shadow any chance you get since we graduated." The nerve on some people. His own teammate. Lucas might think he was dumb but he could see the way that his coworker looked at his girlfriend. There was no mistaking it. Oliver wasn't so wrapped up in Quidditch and his own bitterness that he missed that much. "School was ages ago, Hartwell. It's time to move on." Oliver took another drink from his flask before pocketing it not even the least bit scared at Lucas' threat.

"Here's the thing though. I'm not on the clock. I'm on my own time and I can do whatever I like with whoever I like." And nothing Lucas said or did would change that. His own father certainly wouldn't buy into what his son had to say. All he cared about was appearances. He didn't need his son's name smeared nor did he need the tabloids printing something about Oliver's habit both of which Wood intended to use for his own benefit. "Here's the thing though... Evans has made it abundantly clear she wants nothing to do with you. I don't know how many times and ways she needs to say it before you get it." His hands slipped into his dress pants pockets.

"You really must think you have everyone fooled." Oliver laughed, genuinely amused by Lucas' own obliviousness. "Everyone sees how you look at her. The whole Gryffindor team knew back at Hogwarts. I know you kissed her. Hope that'll hold you over a long time because that's all you're getting." He could hold a grudge. Even one from nearly ten years ago. Liquor helped with that. "The girl is the one thing pops can't get you." And that was a win in Oliver's book. If he couldn't have the spot on the Quidditch pitch this would have to do.