She was everything.
He was nothing.
He was startling in his simplicity, both in needs and emotions. She was all dynamics and complexity, a straightforward statement but with undertones and underlying meanings that was navigated with hairpin turns and caution.
Despite the general populace's assumption that the two would never get on well, they did. He offered a sense of stability and honesty when all she was surrounded with was the unrelenting hormones of her two best friends and the almost harsh frankness of the twins.
But the beginning was merely a preamble, the slow, imperceptible start of a phoenix song.
In his simplicity, there was the thought that led to the action. And because this was all it took, he was nothing. In her complexity, it started with a subliminal message, just barely trickling into her subconsciousness, before forming a thought. From the thought came the questioning and the doubts, (where did this come from? how did this thought get me here? can I really do this?), and from this the motivation ensued, the planning begun, and the action commenced. With every turn her decision took her, she was everything.
It occurred to her during practice.
Occurring meaning that prior to that moment, the thought was not a conscious one, because the thought was not known to her before then, therefore it really couldn't be a conscious thought, could it? She could not say for certain that the thought did not exist before then, that the words that formed the thought had not crossed her mind before, tantalizing her thoughts for a split second before it left her, the sentences already forgotten.
She had been sitting on her broom, glowering at Wood, when it occurred to her that she wanted him to kiss her.
And compared to the days it took for her to initiate an action, Katie Bell promptly touched ground and fled to the castle in mere seconds.
The cackling roar of the fire warmed her before the actual heat did. The latest issue of Quidditch Weekly sat open on her lap but she couldn't bring her eyes to the page, opting to sit on an armchair near the fire with a curl of blonde hair between her fingers. She mulled over the thought, (the realization?), of her now open desire to snog her captain senseless.
Barely an hour after she had escaped, the rest of the team trudged into the common room, the portrait clicking shut behind them as Wood came to a stop before her. The others didn't spare them a second look before going their own separate ways. Rain dripped down his front and onto her foot, the warmth of the fire abandoning it. The phoenix song soared into the chorus, no longer imperceptible but now bright, and demanding attention, launching itself to light. The notes were loud and pure, taking on an almost euphoric feel to the music.
"Katie, what was that?" he broke the silence, his Scottish accent shining through. His hands grasped the handle of his broom, clenching it tightly then releasing it before repeating it again. "Kates."
She blinked, rolling her tongue around in thought before answering. "Well, it was an emergency, you see. I was in grave danger of falling-"
"That's silly, you know I wouldn't have let that happen. I would have been there to catch you if anything."
"For someone."
She was fully staring at him now, the statement she had unleashed was there on the ground like a loaded gun, ready to fire. She placed uncertain thoughts that she hadn't actually gotten a grip on, (and to be honest, she was still confused), out in the open. He started to speak, a target painted onto her chest.
"Kates, I'm not sure what you're trying to say. That could be towards anyone. Katie?"
She was already halfway up the stairs, the weight of being misunderstood making her exhausted already.
In the end, his habit of beating around the bush was what made him nothing and this moment mean everything to her, who was always direct and indirect all at once, who simply was everything. (And damn it, why couldn't she just forget him now?)
The phoenix song tinkled into softer, more tranquil notes as the excitement of the chorus died down and the phoenix sang in eerie, low notes that was heard with one's heart, and not their ears.
Breakfast wasn't even awkward. Oliver expected it to be considering that every morning in the past six years the team more or less sat together. However, it wasn't awkward because Katie wasn't even there. Nor was Fred, granted, but he didn't care much for the prat. Oliver frowned, hunching towards his oatmeal with barely a word to anyone as Katie and Fred walked in and sat at the opposite end of the table.
Professor Binns was giving a lecture on the culmination of werewolf bites and Oliver couldn't care less. His parchment lay in front of him, his playbook sprawled open in front of him with half scrawled notes in the margins. He could feel the stifling heat of the room, even with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his collar undone. Irritatingly, he positioned his wand under his desk and murmured a charm that would open the window and let the fall breeze inside the classroom. He nearly groaned collapsed in relief that he had decided to get the window seat today, shoving his books out of the way to clear space for a piece of parchment that he pulled out of his parchment.
Katie!
He paused, dipping his quill back onto the ink bottle, anxiously awaiting her reply. Roger Davies, who sat in front of him, sniggered as he balanced his chair on its back legs and levitated a note over to Lee Jordan.
I'm not answering you, so pay attention in class. Oh, and by the way, I'm throwing this away.
It? What did she mean it? The parchment? Their relationship? Oliver felt his brows furrow as he read over her words, and in his haste to answer, nearly knocked over the ink bottle as he grabbed his quill.
No! Katherine, don't you dare!
He grumbled, nearly snapping his quill in half. Huffing, he crossed his arms over his chest and fumed to himself. The next time he saw that girl, he'd kill her. No doubt about it. Who else would say something but mean so many others?
"Katie.." he trailed off, muttering to himself as he rubbed his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.
Davies looked back at him, then glanced at Jordan, smirking.
"Jordan's got a bit of a thing for her, yeah. Actually, you two seem to be pretty close. Is she a good kisser?"
Appalled, Wood didn't even honor him with an answer and settled for kicking his chair out of balance causing Davies to topple over. He glanced back down at the parchment, the words disappearing slowly. Was Katie a good kisser?
The phoenix song quickened its pace, clambering and pushing towards the climax. An orchestra on loose ends and things regretted complimenting its high notes with its own deep, sorrowful music.
At practice, Wood had a hard time concentrating. His eyes would stray to her, and then in turn, would stray to her lips. He caught himself wondering, always wondering, what it would be like to kiss her. The team practice was not on par, as he would have hoped, but Angelina and Alicia were doing an average job tonight. He supposed it would be because their mind is on the homework so he didn't hold it against them. The beaters were up to their usual antics, and they weren't much good at practice anyways. They always shone at the games, when they were under pressure. He knew this all too well. Harry had enough things to deal with and he always came through. It was Ms. Bell that was the problem.
Always the problem.
"Oi, Bell. Stay back a minute. I need a word with you," her hair was plastered to her forehead, the heat from before replaced by the torrential storm. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to the locker rooms.
"Is everything alright? You're not playing well today," he half whispered, looking over her face, fingers gripping her close to him.
She glanced up at him and then looked off to the side, stepping back out of his grip.
"I've just had a lot of things on my mind. Not much room for Quidditch, I'm afraid. "
Flexing his tingling fingers, he studied her.
"Things like what?" His eyes were on her lips again.
She looked at him weirdly, and turned to the door. The mud they had dragged in forgotten to her, she slipped. Easily, and without moving much, he caught her by the elbow, heaving her up on her feet and back to their original position. Still covered in mud, she had trouble regaining her footing, and to compensate for the sudden loss of balance, she held onto his broad shoulders.
The action took over.
Their lips clashed against each other, their reaction volatile and instantaneous. The complexity of the girl melted away, and discarded. The simplicity of the boy amplified, torn into many directions all at once. She was nothing and he was everything. But together, they just were. Neither one nor the other.
The climax was reached, and the orchestra floated away as the phoenix continued it's solo.
This little thing caught me by surprise. I think I was trying something new with how I tried to delve into the character's, or actually Katie's thoughts. I'm not sure.
Opinion?
Oh, and those who have read my "I'm A Bloody Git" story are going to get a treat later on tonight.