This is a rewrite of a story I started a while ago and then abandoned. How you like it cuz this time I'm actually gonna see it through. Also, just FYI I'm making Katie in Fred and George's year, okay? If you don't like it, suck it up or go read something else. :) Have a nice day!

Disclaimer: this is one.

George POV

Some things happen in slow motion. It's a cruel sensation that fate must gets its sick kicks from how, when you watch something like this happening, and you see it so slow that you are sure you can prevent it, but trying to move is like swimming in a pool of molasses, and all of a sudden reality kicks back in but by then it's too late.

Far too late.

I know it isn't Fred's fault. I will not blame Fred for this. There was no way he could have been there in time to block that Bludger, even if he was the best bloody beater in the world. But the want-no, the need-to blame somebody is like a bubbling pit in my stomach, boiling past the point of no return, and before I know what I'm doing I've hit it back, not at Fred of course, but at that blonde head that I'm not thinking cleart enough to attatch a name to.

"McLoughlin!" Davies hollers, and his teammate turns to face his unexpected attacker just in time for my well-aimed hit to smash into his nose with a very satisfying crunch!ing-type noise.

I grin malevolantely. I know I didn't hit him hard enough to do any real damage-I don't think I have it in me to really hurt someone-but I am pleased with the intensity of the insults he's hurling at me and with the amount of blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Pleased, that is, until I realize that not all the blood is his.

I think I might throw up.

Angelina grabs the end of my broom and leads me to the ground slowly. I don't mention that I am perfectly capable of doing this myself, because right now I am looking at anything but the ground below me and blindly is usually not the preffered method of flying.

I feel my feet touch the ground but suddenly I am not sure which way is forward and which way is back, and so I let Angelina and Alicia take me by either hand and lead me across the field. My orientation is still not at it's best but I am pretty sure we are walking away from the direction of the accident. I open my mouth to mention this, but for some reason my lungs aren't working properly, so I turn and run back towards her.

And there she is, only it's not her. Not really. Because her skin's not usually that...translucent looking, and she's never that quiet, and her hair is blonde-like, blonde blonde-not red, which it takes my frazzled brain a moment to realize is the blood seeping into it. Then I really do throw up.

Poor Harry is the one who ends up getting most of it, but being the good guy he is he doesn't get angry. Although he does turn a little green himself, and I worry for a second that my hurling might have caused a chain reaction, but it doesn't and my attention snaps back to the girl lying in the grass, only she isn't there anymore.

I attempt to run after her, but my knees buckle and I end up being sick in the grass again.

"George," Oliver says, all business. "We've got to get back up there."

"Bu..." I begin, but can't finish. I don't know what to say.

"She'll be alright," he says, but he doesn't look me in the eye, and I know that he's thinking the same thing I am. That was a long fall. Too long.

I cry out, but the words don't have the evergy to escape my lips and instead I'm screaming her name in my head. I feel like I'm going deaf from the inside as I speed into the sky, but I am the only one who notices. Still I scream.

Katie!