Summary: Helpless, mute Katie Bell gets a surprised visit from an old Quidditch captain while in St. Mungo's, and he decides to cheer her up with some stunning tales and feats made by him in a match. Poor Bell can't speak…[KBOW

Disclaimer: There's this old man down the street that says if I try marijuana, I'll own Harry Potter. But I don't really believe him….

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The 27th Save

"Excuse me, sir?"

Oliver Wood turned around to find a squat nurse with kindly eyes and dark hair staring up at him, eyebrows raised at a wicked angle. He couldn't stop looking at them. How did she raise them so high!? Did it hurt to put them up like that? Another terrible thought filled Wood: were they stuck like that?

In fact, Wood was so wrapped up in thoughts about eyebrows, he missed the nurse's question four times in a row.

"I'm sorry," Wood finally managed, eyes glued to her face, "Could you repeat the eyebrow?"

The nurse stared at him uncertainly.

"Uh…question?"

"Are you lost, sir?" the nurse asked once more, beginning to wonder if he was really just missing from the mental ward.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Wood said stoutly, reaching into his pocket to read a small slip of paper. He had been given an important mission by none other than Dumbledore himself. "Could you tell me which room to find Katie Bell in?"

The nurse nodded knowingly.

"Come to visit your girlfriend? Lovely choice, by the way. Pretty girl, but what a nice boyfriend you are! She's not even been in a week, and you're already here!" The nurse was bubbling with excitement as she led Wood up a staircase.

Wood grew warm with embarrassment.

"Oh, you see, Nurse, she's not my girlfriend, she's was on my Quidditch team when I was Captain, and we never actually went out, but we snogged quite a few times but then decided to be 'just friends', or rather friends with bonuses or surprises or whatever, and then I graduated and she and Lee snogged and I haven't talked to her since," Wood babbled, clearly trying to make the nurse understand the entire situation.

She just raised the cursed eyebrows and led him to the right ward.

"Room 420, on the left," she instructed, "She has a private room, her parents wanted the best for her."

Wood nodded, his throat too tight to speak, and he gently swung open the door and walked quietly inside.

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Katie Bell had been dozing off in her large, airy hospital room already full of flowers when the door smashed open against the wall, and a handsome, burly young man stampeded inside, cracking and stomping on several vases in the process.

Katie stared up at Oliver Wood, her longtime crush, in shock.

"Um, hello," Wood said awkwardly, wading between the mounds of flowers to collapse into the visitor's chair.

Katie pointed to her throat, feeling embarrassed. She had not yet regained control of her vocal chords, and could not speak.

Wood nodded in understanding, then grinned at her.

"Well, I guess it's up to me to provide both sides of the conversation then," he began cheerfully. "Well, you know how I was picked up by Puddlemere United?"

Katie nodded eagerly, filled with delight at this surprise visit.

"I started in their match against the Appleby Arrows!" Wood exploded, and he began to tell the action of the game and every single save he had made in great detail.

There were, apparently, 47 astounding catches and saves made by rookie Oliver Wood in his first, winning match with Puddlemere.

At first, Katie listened raptly, applauding at certain parts as Wood told her in monotone the starfish catch he had made.

At first.

By the twelfth save, Katie feared she was going to rip her hair out.

The worst part?

She couldn't tell him to stop.

And so, for a good half hour, Katie Bell sat there, and listened to Quidditch.

"Well, the nineteenth save was a bugger. I almost missed it, you know. Dutch had thrown the quaffle in an arc pass to Finch, remember when we practiced those, Katie? Well, and Finch back-passed it Collins, and so I was screened, and we were playing near the woods, so all these birds and stuff kept on flying out and pecking at me. So Collins winds up and chucks it, real hard, see, but he chucked it too low, and it hit Dutch in the- well, anyway, it hit Dutch real hard. So I swooped down and grabbed the quaffle, kicked it wide to John-he's a good mate of mine, you know him- who flew it all the way down until that Beater Arty smashed him one, and then possession changed and the twentieth save started…"

Katie had started banging her head off the side of her bed.

Wood either ignored her or took it as applause.

Katie felt like screaming at the idiot. She worked her throat, attempting to make noises come out.

It wouldn't budge.

Wood was preparing to tell the story of the 27th save, which was, apparently, his favorite.

"Right, so—"

Katie made a desperate, gargling nose in her throat, staring pleadingly at Wood.

"I know, it's a good one! Right, so John had just—"

Katie smacked her hands and made an exasperated sighing, keening noise, glaring at Wood.

Wood was growing excited. Or angry. He wasn't sure which.

"Well, look," Wood began heatedly, "Do you want to hear the story of the twenty-seventh save or not?"

"NO!" Katie Bell, exploded, sitting up straight in bed, chucking her lamp at Wood. "NO, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE TWENTY BLOODY SEVENTH SAVE IN A BLOODY QUIDDITCH MATCH YOU BLOODY DOLT!"

Katie sat breathing heavily, shaking with anger, as Wood stared at her in shock.

And suddenly, Wood was grinning like an idiot. But a very handsome idiot.

"You spoke," he exclaimed, grinning at his former chaser in satisfaction. "I did it! Dumbledore said I was the only one that could make you so angry you'd force your body to talk!"

Katie was beaming too, but felt slightly crestfallen, her smile indented with hurt.

"I thought, what could piss Bell off enough to yell? And then I had it! Quidditch! You always hated when I went on and on about Quidditch, but the longer and longer I went on about the match, the more quiet you got. I had to start making up saves after the nineteenth one."

"So you made up number twenty-one?" Katie asked curiously.

"The one about the armadillo in the tree that attacked Finch in time for me to snatch the quaffle?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Yeah."

"Oh," Katie said in disappointment. It was quite believable; in the Appleby Arrows stadium there was always a 30 greater chance that an armadillo would attack you.

Wood smiled vacantly at his Chaser, but she didn't return the grin.

"So," Katie began, fingering her bedspread, "You just came here because of Dumbledore?"

She shot a furtive glance at Wood from between her blonde sheet of hair.

"Not, you know, to see me?"

"Oh," Wood said embarrassedly, blushing and staring at the ceiling. "Did you notice the nurse's eyebrows? They're quite strange, I think they're stuck that way, much longer and pointier than normal eyebrows."

Katie stared at him uncertainly.

"Um, sorry," Wood babbled, "Could you repeat the quaffle?"

Still Katie stared.

"Uh…question?"

"Did you come here because you missed me or because Dumbledore made you?" Katie repeated once more, watching Wood's face closely.

"Uh, well, I, uh, yeah, strictly speaking as a quaffle-lover, I missed you like a starfish save hates the broom."

Katie didn't really understand this answer, but she smiled anyway.

Wood smiled, too, and without warning, caught Katie's dimpled smile on his lips, shoving her into the pillows.

"Well," Katie gasped, grinning at Wood, "I get your metaphor a lot better. In fact, I'm a quaffle-lover, too."

Wood shoved her hair out of her face.

"Welcome to the club. We must now, of course, exchange greetings in the secret handshake of the QL Society."

Katie smiled mischievously.

"Oh, how I love the opening handshake," she whispered, "Lee's very good at this part."

Wood answered her the only way a defensive quidditch-obsessed man can.

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END.

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-danielle