A/N: Hey guys! Just letting you know, this is written in the mind set of an AU my friends and I created-aka the war takes longer than a year, to the extent of several years after the trio graduates (for some reason we think Voldy would understand world domination a little better than he apparently did), I don't think Dumbledore's dead (I could be wrong), if there was a battle at the school it wasn't the end-all-be-all and Fred Weasley/Tonks/Remus didn't die, Fleur and Bill got married a bit earlier and thus had a kid a little earlier too. ^_^ On that note, hopefully you enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Miss Johnson! Miss Johnson!"

"Over here, Miss Johnson!"

"Just one more question?"

Angelina Johnson, the newest player signed to represent England at this year's Quidditch World Cup, beamed at the excited reporters and their floating quills. Next to her, her agent Mike Smithers, was trying to give her a look that meant "wrap it up."

She held up a hand. "Alright, alright," she said, smirking with pleasure as they fell silent. "Just one more question."

Instantly the jabber started again, making an almost continuous buzz in her ears. Angelina could barely keep from giggling.

Mike picked one waving hand for her.

The rest of the room fell silent and the young man smiled up at her. "Dinibrus Fargun, Miss," he said with a bow as his quill scribbled furiously across the floating notebook. "Wicked Wonderall."

Angelina nodded, a twinkle of recognition in her eyes. The Wicked Wonderall was one of the newest magazines in Britain, very popular amongst those in Hogwarts these days.

"We have had many questions from our readers about one particular topic," Fargun continued, searching around in his pockets until finally pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of paper. "Ah, yes. This letter is an example. He writes: 'I've been a fan of Miss Johnson's for a long time now, and was wondering if she would marry me?'"

A general chuckle floated around the room. Angelina felt her face burn red and she smiled politely. If anything, those sorts of fan letters were what she hated most about having chosen a career so public.

"Our question," Fargun said loudly, at which the room quieted a little again, "is how large of a change has it been to deal with so many heart-sick lads writing for your hand? Have you needed to take on any special precautions?"

Dozens of eyes fixed themselves on her as she looked down at the podium to hide how her smile faltered. This was a sensitive subject between her and Mike, not to mention the rest of the National Quidditch Association. It wasn't just love in those letters, some had threats in them. Threats of bad things for her or for the writer himself.

One writer seemed to be getting serious.

Angelina looked back up, her smile as radiant as ever.

"It has been a very large change," she said, "but Mike Smithers—that is, my agent—and the rest of the NQA are fully equipt to help me when it gets to be too much. I never thought I'd say it, but there is such a thing as too much love."

The ladies and gentlemen of the press broke into chuckles again. Angelina gave a final smile and quick nod of 'thanks' as she felt Mike's hand on her elbow. The crowd broke out in shouts for one more question—they never seemed to get enough—but Mike swiftly led her away and out the back door while Ministry officials rerouted the disappointed reporters.

"You should have stopped answering ten minutes ago," Mike told her as they stepped out into the crisp fall air of London.

"I know," Angelina sighed, wrapping a warm cashmere scarf (a present from Fred Weasley and his wife, Jasene, last Christmas) loosely around her neck. "But they'd have called for another press conference if I did—it's best to get things over with, you know."

Mike gave a dry laugh and tucked his hands into his coat pockets.

Angelina smiled victoriously and lengthened her stride. It wasn't that she was late for practice, though she was, it was just her love of competition that soon put her at a jog and at least five steps ahead of Mike. By the time she'd reached the NQA training headquarters (the main floors of which were a ritzy spa), she actually had to wait for him at the door.

"You're losing your touch, Mike," she said, stretching out as he came up the steps.

"Oh am I?" Mike asked, smirking at her as he panted. "Well then let's switch jobs and see if you have any touch left."

"What, and sit in an office for most of the day?" Angelina asked and pulled the glass door open. "No thank you."

"True," Mike said as they got into a waiting elevator, where he prodded the muggle-numbered button 7 and then the blank space above it twice. "But I think I prefer that to dealing with the rest of those over-zealous sport nuts."

Angelina laughed and shook her head. The elevator doors opened and Mike stepped out, giving her a two finger salute as the doors closed again.

She smiled and watched the numbers light up until the number 13 glowed under the metal panel above the numbers. The elevator slowed to a stop and soon Angelina stepped out to the hallway that lead to the locker rooms.

Loud voices were colliding when Angelina pushed the door open. The team shared one locker room, men on one side and women on the other, but that barrier broke down as soon as Marian Forsathe and Duke Limmerston could hear each other's voices.

Angelina smirked at the quarrelers as she wove her way to her locker, tapping the lock with her wand.

"Hey! Where've you been?" a voice asked as she fought the buttons of her blouse. Iradessa Benson glanced up at her with a grin before going back to wrestling on her new shin-guards. "We were beginning to think we'd have to storm that press conference," she continued, "Bats raised, brooms racing, and such."

"Thanks," Angelina said with a laugh.

"Of course! What would I do if I lost my top girl?" Iradessa grinned again, before glaring at the remaining shin-guard.

Angelina chuckled to herself and pulled her practice jersey out of the locker. Iradessa had been on Puddlemere United, currently their most famous chaser, until she accepted the position of head chaser for the England National team. According to Iradessa, she was still debating if she really wanted to go back to Puddlemere once the Cup ended or if she wanted to retire—despite being only thirty-two.

When Angelina had asked her about it, about two weeks ago now, Iradessa shrugged and smiled saying, "I've seen all corners of the world more frequently than I've seen my own room."

Now that she thought about it, a good number of the recruits for the National team were from Puddlemere, three to be exact. Along with Iradessa, Benjy Williams was a back up seeker and Angelina's old teammate from her schooldays, Oliver Wood, had proven himself good enough to be first keeper.

Thinking of Wood, Angelina felt her face start to burn as she pulled on her practices slacks. The real world had certainly done him good. He was tall, he'd always been taller than her, but back then he'd looked a bit more like a monkey to her—burly and obsessed with quidditch practices. Now, though, he looked more... proportionate, in a way. More like a man...

"You feeling warm too?" Marian's voice asked from her right.

Angelina quickly pressed her cold hands to her face, hoping it'd bring some of the color down. Marian was fanning herself with her bat.

"It's way too warm in here for eleven of us to be milling around," she continued.

"Then get out to the field, Forsathe," Duke's voice shouted from the other side of the lockers.

Marian glared and swung her bat into the locker closest to her—which was strangely attached to Duke's.

"OI!" Duke howled. "Stupid Wasp!"

Angelina watched as her teammate's eyes lit with an angry fire before she stomped around the corner of the lockers. In no time at all, she could hear the other men trying to break up the fight. Iradessa joined them quickly, along with Gwenog Jones—their beater from the Holyhead Harpies as well as their captain.

"Remind me again," said Megan McCormack, the back up keeper from the Pride of Portree, joined Angelina as she closed her locker, "Why did the NQA put a player from the Wimbourne Wasps on the same team as an Appleby Arrow?"

"Because they're hoping we can actually beat someone this year?" Angelina suggested.

Megan, who was barely four years older than Angelina, raised an eyebrow. "And how's that?"

"Easy," Serafina Desult said, coming up from behind them. She was Angelina's only teammate from the Tutshill Tornados. "Keep them at opposite ends of the pitch."

"Yeah, cuz that's easily done," Megan said, rolling her eyes.

Serafina gave them a helpless shrug and smile, then pushed past them. "C'mon, let's leave the Wasp and Arrow to fight amongst themselves, I'd rather be practicing."

Angelina nodded and Megan mumbled in agreement as they followed her. Angelina cast a glance at the boys' side of the lockers to see Marian being held back from choking Duke, while other teammates kept the Appleby Arrow chaser from attacking. In the center, attempting to hold the two at arm's length, was Wood.

His large eyes, which always reminded her of maple syrup, met Angelina's and he gave her a tired smile. She gave him a meek smile in return, feeling her cheeks start to grow warm as she quickly went out the door.

She hesitated outside the locker room, trying to get the butterflies out of her stomach before following her teammates. It had been three weeks since training started. Three weeks of long practices and close quarters with her teammates. And she still got butterflies around him.

This wasn't good. It was one thing to have a crush on your captain in school, but it was a wholly different thing to be infatuated with your teammate when you're competing for the World Cup.

As the hallway opened to the specially created arena, she gave a heavy sigh. Life shouldn't be this distracting.

Megan and Serafina were already flying laps around the quidditch pitch when she finally reached the grass. She watched them for a minute or two, then made her way to the broom closet. Even though she knew why the door was open, Angelina still stopped to check that the lock was still there. It was, dangling open on the outside of the door.

Normally they wouldn't have put locks on it, after all only a few people could come up here, and even then who'd be able to get there without the spells marking them? No one said so, but she knew the lock was there because of her. Along with Angelina's over-zealous fan-mail came some sudden break-ins and sabotage. It almost made her quit.

That was half the reason for the press call. She'd had a long hyperventilating talk with Mike and her father about it. Eventually they worked things out with the NQA, tightening security as much as they could without provoking attention.

It wasn't much of an assurance, but it helped. Sort of.

Angelina jumped as she reached for her broom, noticing another arm reaching in too. Her head snapped to the right and she instantly wished she hadn't looked.

Wood gave her another tired smile. "Hey, Angelina," he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent goose bumps up and down her arms. "Ready for practice?"

"Yeah," she breathed, smiling a little larger than she knew she had to. "You?"

His smile became more genuine. "Yeah," he said and looked down at his gloves as he laughed dryly. "Anything to get them to shut up."

She laughed along with him.

"Uh... So." Wood's voice was uncharacteristically hesitant as they walked back to the center of the field. "Practice ends early tonight—at five."

"Yeah, I heard that rumor." Angelina glanced at him.

Wood gave her a lopsided smile. "I was thinking," he said, the hand holding the broom over his shoulder drummed nervously. "I could walk you home tonight."

Angelina stopped dead in her tracks and quickly hid the surprised look on her face. "Really?"

He took another step then stopped and turned to her, an awkward smile on his face. "Yeah," he said, glancing back towards the rest of the team. "And maybe we could stop by the Leaky Cauldron or something on the way..."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Angelina repeated, raising her eyebrows.

Instantly an embarrassed flush came to his cheeks and his eyes darted away from her's. "It's ok if you don't want to," he said quickly. "I just thought you'd—."

"Love to."

Wood stopped again and looked at her with surprise, then a large grin spread across his face. "Really?"

Angelina could feel her face burn. "Yeah," she said, smiling uncontrollably. "I'd really like that."

The only time she'd seen him this happy was back in her fifth year, when they'd won the house cup. He wouldn't stop smiling, and neither could she.

"Oi! You lot! Get over here so we can get out of here on time!" Gwenog Jones shouted.

Looking up, both went red as they noticed the entire rest of the team was in the air. Instantly Wood and Angelina mounted their brooms and kicked off.