She Would Be Quidditch
We (the entire Quidditch team, really) thought that Oliver would never marry.
Or if he even dated, she would be Quidditch in human form. She'd love the sport like she loved no other. Her hair would be a rich bronze with golden tints, the exact shade of the hoops that Oliver guarded. Her eyes would be the color of the grass of the pitch, that darkened and lightened with every passing season. Her lips would be a deep red that could capture Oliver's heart over and over again, just like a quaffle.
And he met her. Her name was Quinn Knott, the Center Chaser for the Wasps. They were so alike, matching each other in both mindset and in build. In short, she was the female Oliver.
But he didn't love her. He loved the girl who had hair like sunshine, eyes like an uncut emerald and lips like the sunset. He loved the girl who was everything that he wasn't and everything that didn't remind him of Quidditch. She was like a spring day to him, the kind of day when he didn't want to play the sport. The kind of day when he just wanted to walk with her by the riverside.
He loved Katie.
In the end, we were all wrong. We thought that he would marry Quinn and have beautiful Quidditch-playing babies. Even Katie, who had loved him for ages, thought so.
She never thought that he would love her. She wasn't perfect, she told him. But he would talk to us guys when we went out drinking, about her amazing kisses and her hair. (That's how you know that you're in love, Harry, when you ramble on about how beautiful your lass is instead of how good she is in bed.)
To him, she was perfect.
He didn't want her to be "Quidditch" on the outside or on the inside (though she tried for him). He needed her to be the one exception to Quidditch.
He needed her to be his Kates.