A/N: Hello again. This is my first Katie/Oliver story, so I try not to be too harsh. The plot is mine, but the characters are from the mind of JK Rowling.

I miss Hogwarts. I miss quidditch. I miss Snape. I miss everything I had before this, stupid bloody necklace came waltzing into my life and thoroughly screwing up my life.

I knew the team had lost their last game, for the cup, against Ravenclaw. That would have been my final game, that was supposed to be my final game. I was ready for that to be the end of the season. Now that it's over, I feel like I still have to play that one game, score those final points, win that final cup. Leanne has visited me with the latest gossip and homework from the school, but it's not the same. I want to taste the pumpkin juice as that blond git from Slytherin proclaims he is god, but I got stuck with the necklace from hell.

Great.

Plus, that final game had all the quidditch scouts present. Everyone knew that if you wanted to make it pro, you had to get into the cup, and you had to play the best game of your life. I remember Harry talking about all the scouts who would be there watching; the Harpies, the Canons, even Puddlemere. There were all going to be there to watch me play. I guess I didn't get the memo.

I have always had one single dream for the future, Puddlemere. Since my family took me to my first professional quidditch game at the age of four, I remember wanted to be up there and the feeling has never left. Every other female quidditch player always wanted to be a Harpie, but nothing could top Puddlemere to me.

When I first learned that my captain and best friend was to join my dream team, I was happy for him, in fact, I was overjoyed. We always said that we were to be the dynamic duo, Keeper and Chaser, for Puddlemere. When he got the news that he was being offered a spot on the reserve team with the first-string Keeper on his way out of the team in a year, tops, I knew that in a few short years, I would be on that field right beside him.

There is barely a chance that I will get signed anywhere, let alone to the top team in the league. The worst part of it all is that Oliver isn't here either. Since his signing almost two years ago, he has become a household name. He made the jump to starter in a three month period and was the top ranked Keeper in the league. We started sending letters but when he got signed, they became less and less frequent until they stopped altogether.

I haven't even thought of Oliver since Roger Davies and I went on a date on the first Hogsmeade trip of my sixth year. I somehow forgot that the boy I loved- who I still love, forgot about me. Now that I don't have the distractions of Charms and Quidditch, my mind is constantly drifting to those hazel eyes, that beautifully musical accent, the perfect hair. It didn't help that his face was plastered all over the cover of ever quidditch magazine that anyone brought me.

"Katherine?" The voice of the healer intern called softly to me. I turned my eyes to her, not bothering with forming words. When she made no response, I cocked my hear up with my eyebrows raised obnoxiously. "Oh, sorry. You have a visitor. I know you don't like to have them until four but he is very persistent."

Looking at the clock, I knew it wasn't a student, because they would already be in class. My parents were working. My mind was running a blank as to who would be at the door. "Sure, whatever."

Her vibrant red hair was quickly out of view and the door quickly opened fully, revealing the form of a very athletic man, Oliver Wood. I hated that just the mere sight of him sent my heart into quick palpitations. I knew that I looked like shit, and he looked like a god, so I had to force the blood from running to my face. After years, I still acted like a fucking first year around him.

"Bell." He said like he didn't even know me. Oh wait, he doesn't anymore. Merlin, I hate him so much. He flipped his hair to the side, but he assumed its same position. He thrust a bouquet of flowed onto my chest and continued to stand. I quickly conjured up a vase with water to put the flowers in and sat up to hear what was so important that he came to talk to me about. "So, your team lost."

I glared, "Harry's team? Well I hear they did. I wasn't present." I continued with what I was hoping was an angry glare. Sarcasm was dripping from each word I said, with my arms crossed in front of me. I knew this version of Wood, the annoy version. This wouldn't be fun.

"Yeah, well you lost." He stated. You know when you can pinpoint a single moment in any conversation that makes you blow your top? This was that for me.

"I did not lose. I lost the opportunity to play when some demented person gave me a cursed necklace and forced me to go to Dumbledore. I did not however lose that match. Do NOT get that confused." He stood there, still expressionless, like I had simply told him that it was foggy outside. "Is that all you had to say?"

He made no immediate move to speak.

"Well, great friend you are. No, it's fine, I'm doing great, I'll live to see another exam. I'm out in a week or so. Oh, but I forgot, you aren't my friend, now are you. You were, past tense. The moment that our friendship stopped being convenient, you stopped it altogether. You know, this year sucked. Oh wait, you wouldn't have known that. You remember my brother, Christophe? He's dead. I could have used someone, you know. But you were too busy with your stupid game. Thanks for that."

Again, the room feel into a pregnant pause.

"Is that all?"

"No." He said, looking still expressionless. He had his quidditch face on. Now that hurt the most. He reserved that face for his enemies; Flint, Snape, Davies. Never me.

"Well, I –"

"Will you shut up for once." He cried loudly. My eyes widened. I still expected a change of expression, but found nothing. I remained quite. "I've been told to talk to you."

"By whom?" I asked viciously.

"Kendel McGoldrick." That was his coach on Puddlemere. I knew this was about quidditch so I shut up entirely. I listened intently to him. "They never got to see you play that final game, but the team scout said that he has had his eye on you for a long time now and didn't need to see you play that game to know me wanted you on the team. McGoldrick said that when you are okay, he would like to see you do a quick field try out and from there, you would almost defiantly be signed to reserve team. I'm here to get you to seal the deal."

"Oh, and you look so pleased." Again, that bitter burning in my heart increased. This was our dream. We finally got our dream and he didn't want it anymore. He didn't want me anymore.

"I'm not. I am going against what they say and am here to encourage you to do the exact opposite."I, at this point, was completely baffled. "I know that you will only play if it's with Puddlemere, but I don't think that you should be playing professional quidditch at all. It's not well, it's –"

"It's not what, Wood? It's not what I would expect? It's too hard for me? It's too good for me to play? It's too rough?" I huffed with anger, feeling my head throb with pain.

"Oh, so it's Wood know?" He bit bitterly, his quidditch face crumbling as he face matched his poisonous tone.

"You can call me Bell but I can't call you Wood?"I asked in a tone void of emotion. What a hypocritical arsehole.

"You were always Bell. I always called you Bell. You always called me Oliver." His tone was now one of hurt. I knew my quidditch face was quickly crumbling too, but I wouldn't let it.

"No, if I recall, I was always Katie, or Kitty-Kat, or Kate, or Kates. I was NEVER Bell." I cried out without a trace of anger in my voice, which was how I intended it to be said. I came out sappy and hurt. It came out exactly like I felt.

He paused, now at another lose of words. He knew I correct. He never called me Bell, except jokingly, or on the pitch. That was it.

"I, well, yeah. You're right. I'm sorry." He said, looking down at me with sad eyes.

"It doesn't matter," I knew neither of us believed what I said. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

I had to force back tears when I said that final phrase. I had never said it aloud to anyone. I always said to the girls that he was just too busy to respond, that we were still friends. I knew that it wasn't true but saying now makes it all the more real.

"You know that's not true." He said softly, finally sitting down at the chair beside him. His eyes were gentle and kind, but I could see the hurt I inflicted by my words.

"How is it not true? I wrote you all the time. I wrote you when everything big happened to me. You know how I found out you were first-string? Quidditch Weekly. You never responded to anything I said after October of last year. You have made absolutely no contact with me and you think you can come back into my life as though nothing has changed. It doesn't work like that. And now your practically telling me you don't want me at all in your life, as if I didn't already know."

That's when it happened. I finally cried over Oliver Wood. The first tear started in the middle of my speech and by the end, I was practically a muggle waterslide. My eyes were puffing out, and my body did this whole convulsion thing every so often when I didn't get enough air in my lungs. Oliver looked on helplessly. He didn't know what to say to comfort me.

"Why?" I croaked out from my water display, my throat scratchy from the my constant heavy breathing.

"Why? You seriously don't know?" He then laughed. Not a hearty laugh, but a bitter and cynical laugh. He then stood up and reached into his pocket to retrieve something. He then found it and threw into onto my lap. He then resumed his seat and was silent.

"What does this have to do with anything?" It was a picture of the two of us after we won the cup in Oliver's final year. He was so happy, he twirled me around all night long. This picture was of us at the after party in the common room. He twirled and stared at me, his face containing a look of longing. I on the other hand, had my face to the ceiling, a content grin on my face, never looking at Oliver.

"That is everything," He paused. "I was absolutely in love with you when this picture was taken. You can see it in my face. Everyone knew. Well, everyone but you. I could never tell you. We were friends, I knew that's all you ever saw me as. I didn't want to ruin our friendship so I kept it quiet. It just got so hard-"

"So you ruined our friendship altogether?" I glared, confusion lingering on my face as well. What he was saying didn't make sense.

"Don't you see that I lost you no matter what I did! When I got that last letter, I knew I could never write back. It was too impossibly hard. Do you remember that at that same time, I was rumoured to be skipping practice to be with my girlfriend, Casey Pettinger?"

I simply nodded, remembering the night I curled up into a ball after reading about them in Witch Weekly.

"I never dated her. I skipped practice because I wouldn't leave my house. I sat in my room starring a wall for four days, one line repeating over in my head. Do you know what it was?" Oliver said, in a hushed tone, as if it was too terrible to say aloud. "Davies, you remember him? Well, he asked me to Hogsmeade and I said yes. The girls are so excited."

The bitterness of his tone scared me a bit, but I listened intently to him.

"I loved you, and not in the way I should have, in the way you wanted me to. You think I never heard you girls giggling about the dreamy Roger Davies. I knew you liked him in the way you would never like me, so I gave up. How is loverboy doing now?" Oliver spit out, his tone and eyes both vicious. It was as if he was daring me to tell him exactly what he didn't want to hear.

"How would I know? Him and Cho Chang were dating last I heard. And just so you know, I never liked Davies. He was hot, I admit, so I accepted him but you know what made me say no when he tried to kiss me, when he asked to go out again?"

"What?"

"You." He looked confused, so I elaborated. "You were always the one I went to Hogsmeade with. Alicia and Angelina were always on dates with the twins, or with others, so we always went together, remember? That was the first Hogsmeade visit I went with someone I didn't thoroughly enjoy spending time with. He was completely dull. Mind you, because of you, I had high expectations. I loved you too, you know." I left out that I never actually stopped. "And I mean in the way that you meant it too. He could never compare to you. You don't know how many classes I missed, practices I skipped, nights I cried to sleep. That was all because of you. And now you don't even want to me because I went out on one date with a guy who I used to maybe get your attention."

"What do you mean by my not wanting you?" That made my heart swell for a split second before I forged on.

"Our dream, to play on Puddlemere together. You think I don't know why you don't want me there? You don't want me to come in and ruin your perfect little life. You don't want to be my friend. In short, you don't want me."

"Well, you've got one thing right." His face was turned away from me. "I don't want to be your friend."

Tears were silently slipping down my face, but this time I didn't do the whole scratchy throat, convulsion thing.

"If I wanted to be your friend, I would through you on a Firebolt right now and get you on that field living your dream. I would get you on the team in a heartbeat and have the bludgers coming, But you see, I don't want to be your friend at all. In fact, I don't want you on the team at all."

Here comes the scratchy throat convulsion thing. The full watershow began and Oliver gently placed his calloused hands on my shoulders.

"At least let me finish before you start to cry." My sobs slowly stopped, but Oliver's hand stayed on me, but had moved to my hand closest to him. "A friend wants whatever you thing is best for you. I know you want quidditch, I know you want Puddlemere, but what you don't know is what comes along with the professional career. It hurt me enough watching semi decent players hitting bludgers at you, but imagine what the best in the whole would make me do. I wouldn't be able to stop myself from jumping in front of every single attacker on every single team. I couldn't do that. That's why I'm here. I don't want you to play because I want what I know is best for you safety and for my mental health."

"So, um recap," I paused, looking into his eyes, no tears in my eyes anymore. "You don't want to be my friend, but you don't want me on the team because you care too much about me." He simply nodded. Confusion was all over my face. "If you care so much, then why don't you want me as your friend?"

"Merlin Kates, you are thick aren't you?" I shrugged my shoulders, my eyes trained on his.

"Well," I urged him on.

"I want you, well to be my, well you know, my er." He huffed another breath and muttering something to himself along the lines of, 'Stop cocking up, Wood'. " I would like it if you were my girlfriend."

His eyes were now firmly shut and he cringed as if I were about to hit him. "I guess you can cry now Kates."

I paused, not sure if I should. Well cry I mean. Obviously, I knew that my only answer to his question was a definite yes, but I could feel some happy tears coming on now.

"Kates?"

"I love you." Oh great. I was trying to say yes. No the L-word. I mean we both said I loved you, but that is past tense. How awkward would it be if he doesn-

"Oh, Merlin I don't think you know how it feels to finally have you say that." He murmured and then attacked my lips with his own. He was gentle, but forceful enough to not make me feel like a doll. I felt as though I was the only girl in the world as his tongue brushed against my mouth. I heartily consented to this new progression and wrapped my arms around his strong neck, pulling his into the kiss and onto of me. He straddled me and I felt like one of those girls in those cheesy muggle movies Alicia loves so much. It was the perfect moment.

Then I broke this kiss. "Well, then you could help me know." I replied grinning, our lips barley touching but still electric.

He pulled back some , resting his weight on his forearms which were placed on either side of me. His eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Let me know how it felt." I caught the glimpse of recognition in his eye and he grin widened to a sie I never knew was possible.

"I love you, Katie Bell." He whispered against my lips. I expected him to return to kissing me, but I was sadly mistaken. He pulled back again "So, what do you say about the team? I know it's your dream and all but-"

I placed a finger against his lips mouth which shut him up well enough. "Oliver. My dream was never to play pro quidditch on Puddlemere. My dream was to play it with you. But now that I have you like this, I would much rather just not get sweaty and have you be the one looking mighty sexy riding that broom."

"Really?" He said is disbelief.

"Oliver Alban Wood, I say with much seriousness, that you and only you, are my dream."