Of Quidditch Obsessions
Emory Says: Me no own Harry Potter, but me loves the fact that you can tell any story about Katie/Oliver because they're minor characters!
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They had met on the train to school in their first year. She was strongly considered to be a Hufflepuff, while he was destined to be a Ravenclaw. But they conversed none the less, and an odd bond formed between them. On the boat to the castle, her hand slid into his in fear, and at the awkward age of eleven, a shock was felt.
Call it fate, but that evening, under surprising circumstances, they were both sorted into Gryffindor house, to grow and learn together-- and to play Quidditch.
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Katie
I hate them, oh so much! Those little bevies of girls; Oliver's fan club. They make me ill! Just the sight of them; hanging around our Quidditch practices and games, following us to lunch and classes, sitting near us at the library. And all those horrible, HORRIBLE dirty glances and evil mailings I get sent, just because of that undying rumor that Wood and I are dating.
Right, me and Wood, dating. We're best friends, crakes! According to Angelina and Alicia, whom I still listen to despite all the fluff occupying their brains, that's what you get for being best friends with a sexy guy with an even sexier accent. Who says sexy twice in a sentence? I NEED to stop listening to Alicia and Angelina.
And, well, I seriously cannot deny the fact that Oliver really and truly is sexy. NO, I didn't just say that! Bad, bad Alicia and Angelina! But, let's consider the facts here, if I truly did think Wood was sexy. He's my best friend, and has a sole obsession with Quidditch. I am a tomboy, his best friend, and have a sole obsession for Quidditch. Oh, Godric Gryffindor, help me. But now, hold off a bit, cause Quidditch is now.
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Oliver
I really am confused. There are these times when my mind just kind of goes completely far away, like during a Quidditch game where we're killing them. That is occurring now.
My eyes averted the game and fell on a certain someone, a certain chaser by the name of Katie Bell. Katie's my best friend, a tomboy, loves Quidditch but warns me when I'm going to far, puts up with all the crap of those ditties that hang around, and, according to the beaters, is my girlfriend.
She's not, but… Sometimes I really don't know. Like in this occasion, what I was thinking. I've heard what the guys say about Katie, I'm not deaf. But she never hears it, thank Godric Gryffindor, or she'd kick a few shins. But this was different.
She was in deep concentration, watching the red ball zoom about the field. Her face is tinged with red, but I can tell she loves the exhilaration of it all. Her long brunette plait (braid) is coming loose, and bits hang around her face. She looks beautiful.
OH GODRIC GRYFFINDOR! Did I just say Katie Bell looks beautiful? No. no, well, she does a bit I guess- NO NO NO!
HarrySeeker has caught the snitch, to my relief, and taken me out of my thoughts . Oh gosh, we've won. The Quidditch Cup, we've won it, I could cry. We've won.. We've won.
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Katie
The scarlet-and-gold-clad Gryffindor team disintegrates into a mass in the center of the field. Everyone's hugging each other, we're so happy! I hug Angelina, kiss Harry on the cheek since he is marvelous, and come face to face with the sexy man himself.
I referred to him as sexy AGAIN! I need to keep way far from 'Lina & 'Licia. But considering I live in their dorm, a good kick in the shins would be refreshing.
Oliver is jubilant, so immensely excited, and he's just landed. In determination, he walks directly toward me. I don't know what exactly is going on, so I smile as he approaches me, but his face doesn't change. I won-
Oh, oh, oh, oh, GODRIC GRYFFINDOR! Crakes! BLOODY HELL! Oliver Wood, The Oliver Wood, is kissing me. He just walked up, latched one arm round my waist and the other in my hand, and lent me back and -- full on kissed me hard on the lips. And, bloody hell have mercy, it tastes--good.
Godric Gryffindor, please, cause Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, and everyone in the stands who is gasping as well, immense pain and torture. And please watch Oliver and Me, we're only Quidditch assessors who need all the help.
Emory Says: Me no own Harry Potter, but me loves the fact that you can tell any story about Katie/Oliver because they're minor characters!
----------------------
They had met on the train to school in their first year. She was strongly considered to be a Hufflepuff, while he was destined to be a Ravenclaw. But they conversed none the less, and an odd bond formed between them. On the boat to the castle, her hand slid into his in fear, and at the awkward age of eleven, a shock was felt.
Call it fate, but that evening, under surprising circumstances, they were both sorted into Gryffindor house, to grow and learn together-- and to play Quidditch.
-----------------------
Katie
I hate them, oh so much! Those little bevies of girls; Oliver's fan club. They make me ill! Just the sight of them; hanging around our Quidditch practices and games, following us to lunch and classes, sitting near us at the library. And all those horrible, HORRIBLE dirty glances and evil mailings I get sent, just because of that undying rumor that Wood and I are dating.
Right, me and Wood, dating. We're best friends, crakes! According to Angelina and Alicia, whom I still listen to despite all the fluff occupying their brains, that's what you get for being best friends with a sexy guy with an even sexier accent. Who says sexy twice in a sentence? I NEED to stop listening to Alicia and Angelina.
And, well, I seriously cannot deny the fact that Oliver really and truly is sexy. NO, I didn't just say that! Bad, bad Alicia and Angelina! But, let's consider the facts here, if I truly did think Wood was sexy. He's my best friend, and has a sole obsession with Quidditch. I am a tomboy, his best friend, and have a sole obsession for Quidditch. Oh, Godric Gryffindor, help me. But now, hold off a bit, cause Quidditch is now.
-----------------------------
Oliver
I really am confused. There are these times when my mind just kind of goes completely far away, like during a Quidditch game where we're killing them. That is occurring now.
My eyes averted the game and fell on a certain someone, a certain chaser by the name of Katie Bell. Katie's my best friend, a tomboy, loves Quidditch but warns me when I'm going to far, puts up with all the crap of those ditties that hang around, and, according to the beaters, is my girlfriend.
She's not, but… Sometimes I really don't know. Like in this occasion, what I was thinking. I've heard what the guys say about Katie, I'm not deaf. But she never hears it, thank Godric Gryffindor, or she'd kick a few shins. But this was different.
She was in deep concentration, watching the red ball zoom about the field. Her face is tinged with red, but I can tell she loves the exhilaration of it all. Her long brunette plait (braid) is coming loose, and bits hang around her face. She looks beautiful.
OH GODRIC GRYFFINDOR! Did I just say Katie Bell looks beautiful? No. no, well, she does a bit I guess- NO NO NO!
HarrySeeker has caught the snitch, to my relief, and taken me out of my thoughts . Oh gosh, we've won. The Quidditch Cup, we've won it, I could cry. We've won.. We've won.
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Katie
The scarlet-and-gold-clad Gryffindor team disintegrates into a mass in the center of the field. Everyone's hugging each other, we're so happy! I hug Angelina, kiss Harry on the cheek since he is marvelous, and come face to face with the sexy man himself.
I referred to him as sexy AGAIN! I need to keep way far from 'Lina & 'Licia. But considering I live in their dorm, a good kick in the shins would be refreshing.
Oliver is jubilant, so immensely excited, and he's just landed. In determination, he walks directly toward me. I don't know what exactly is going on, so I smile as he approaches me, but his face doesn't change. I won-
Oh, oh, oh, oh, GODRIC GRYFFINDOR! Crakes! BLOODY HELL! Oliver Wood, The Oliver Wood, is kissing me. He just walked up, latched one arm round my waist and the other in my hand, and lent me back and -- full on kissed me hard on the lips. And, bloody hell have mercy, it tastes--good.
Godric Gryffindor, please, cause Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia, and everyone in the stands who is gasping as well, immense pain and torture. And please watch Oliver and Me, we're only Quidditch assessors who need all the help.