Hello and welcome to pass.it.on-girls' first collaborative effort.
This story (the title of which, is still to be decided upon) is a gift for our friend Lady Catriona-Arre, whom we all love immensely, and without whose stories we probably couldn't survive.
The story is structured so that each chapter is from the point of view of one of fourteen characters (or character groups) from the HP universe who have some kind of influence or insight into the lives of Katie Bell and Oliver Wood.
Dedicated with love, friendship and the joy of writing, to:
Lady Catriona-Arre.
Chapter One written by:
Just-Giddy
I
Roger Davies.
As shallow, conceited, and cocky people saw Roger Davies to be, the truth was, well, he did have a deep side to him. I'm sure at the moment you're thinking such thoughts along the way as 'no way', 'oh c'mon' and the infamous 'pur-lease'. You'll be disappointed to be proved wrong. Or at least half proved wrong.
You see at the moment, Roger was thinking. Yes, thinking.
Or daydreaming. Take your pick.
Sitting at the Ravenclaw table, chin in hand, spoon in the other, the sixth year Quidditch captain let his ears block out the noise of the girl sitting next to him. Yes, she was pretty with her dark curls and shining blue eyes, but you see, his perfectly situated spot just served its purpose.
You'll be surprised to hear that Roger was methodical as well. The dark haired Ravenclaw unconsciously ran a hand through his short black hair unconsciously as a certain fifth year sat down at the Gryffindor table. He knew she sat in the same spot every meal, every day, every time. Without fail. So, he positioned himself so if she happened to glance up for a moment or two, she would probably catch sight of him. Almost without fail.
He was methodical because she was habitual.
The girl next to him continued to ramble on and he listened. Or pretended that he was listening. He nodded and 'mhmm'ed at time which seemed to keep her happy and rambling. That was good enough. He was an underachiever anyway. Why else would McGonagall suggest he get some help from one of his peers? He should've known better than to suggest a fifth year for sixth year material though.
He shook his mind rid of the stupid thoughts and passed a glance to the dark haired girl with a glimmering smile, agreeing to what he didn't know. He held eye contact with her but his mind was racing on ways to get out of it. He caught sight of the butter-bun basket. He smirked. It was far out of his reach - perfect. So with a large twist, turn and stretch, he was able to not only grab hold of a satisfactory bun but regain the more favourable sight that was Katie Bell.
Purposely nibbling slowly, he watched as she groggily brought the mug of her coffee to her lips. He laughed lightly at the smile that crept across her face which made the girl next to him smile broader, as she thought it was because of what she said. He glanced at her sideways; happy to see her talking away as per usual, but turning back to Katie Bell a scowl crossed his handsome face.
As one can imagine a situation that would bring about this change would be an obstruction in his line of view to the blonde girl.
It just so happened that it was an obstruction. A tall. Broad-shouldered. Someone-you-would-hate-to-sit-behind-in-one-of-those-muggle-movie-theaters. Scottish one. It was Oliver Wood.
And apparently he'd said something rather funny as Katie was laughing while one of the Weasley twins (he could never tell which) was giving a sour glare to their captain. Roger followed the redhead's lead and glared as well.
But none the less he watched their morning antics, now out of boredom rather than methodical behaviour as he rested his elbows on the old tabletop. As Katie's laughter died down she reached for a butter bun - one very similar to the one he was nibbling on, he noticed - but her captain beat her too it. Oliver snatched the last one out of the basket, now with a pleased stomach but an angry chaser.
Roger watched with amusement as she pointed a dejected finger at the seventh year, her brows knitted close together, as she attacked him verbally. Had he been a tad closer he probably would've been able to read her lips.
But Oliver Wood did have a long list of insulting names behind him.
Quidditch obsessed.
Pitch Mongrel.
Relentless captain.
Quidditch Nazi leading the pack.
And that was only naming a few. She was probably coming up with a few choice selections of her own.
Roger chuckled as the broad shoulder's belonging to the Quidditch Nazi slumped with a defeated sigh before tossing the bun across to her. She smiled in a gleeful triumphant way before taking a victorious bite, smirking viciously with gleaming green eyes.
Returning back to his breakfast he pushed thoughts of the blonde chaser to the back of his mind - for surely he couldn't get rid of her forever. After all, a butter bun did not a breakfast of champions make. And Roger was a champion. So for the next half hour he heartily ate his waffles, chugged down his orange juice with joy, and chomped down on sausages. Life was pleasant enough, that dark haired girl was still infatuated with him.
Things were going smoothly that morning.
He got breakfast. He got to watch Katie Bell for a few minutes. Laughed at her antics. Completely block out the girl next to him. And received a terrific breakfast - all before first period.
The Ravenclaw captain closed his eyes for a moment contently, letting the noise of the clattering hall fill his ears. That was until, a loud shouting interrupted the chit-chat that normally filled the halls.
"OK, WOOD. I GET IT! YOU HAVE FAN GIRLS! CON-GRA-T-U-LATIONS!"The raven-haired sixth year's eyes snapped open. The shrill voice belonged none other than to Katherine Jade Bell. His brows furrowed lightly in an odd amusement. He forced his brow to smoothen as his blue eyes watched the scene unfold in front of him.
The short girl was towering over her captain, a feat for her height, with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her brow was stitched together defiantly, her jaw clenched where it was normally light with a smile, and her ski-slope nose was scrunched up in that cute way it did when she was mad. Oliver was staring up at her, his shoulders set in place as the verbal onslaught continued.
"YOU'VE TOLD ME EVERYDAY NOW! AND IN CASE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE-I DON'T GIVE A RAT'S ASS!"
He stood up at this, opening his mouth to say something, but someone had for him as Katie whipped around to a small girl down the table, "WELL IF YOU WANT TO SNOG HIM SO BADLY DRAG HIM INTO A BROOM CLOSET!"
"Kat look-" Her captain stated with sympathy for the small redhead on the verge of tears.
"DON'T 'LOOK' ME!" she pointed a finger at him. "YOU'RE PATHETIC." she turned back to the girl, "GOOD LUCK WITH THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH-AND-A-BASTARD," she said, sticking a thumb over her shoulder to the now-fuming Scotsman before grabbing her bag and stalking out of the Great Hall.
As the doors slammed behind her Roger rolled her eyes. Such a typical Bell move.
…..he was happy he had a front row seat to the spectacle though.
He chuckled into his second glass of orange juice when a brilliant idea struck him. As he dove into his bag the dark haired girl was now commenting on what the whole hall just witnessed. He had to admit he did get a tad defensive when she mentioned what a girl-of-a-manly-barbarian Katie had gotten and almost said something as he resurfaced, quill, parchment and ink in Quidditch-calloused hands.
"What are you doing?" the girl next to him asked as he started writing with fever, shoulders hunched and nose almost touching the paper.
"Writing a letter," it was the only full sentence he'd said to her all morning.
Well….fragment more than a sentence. But it was better than anything else he had muttered previously.
The next morning Roger completely disregarded anyone who even greeted him. If there was ever a day to be perfectly methodical it was today. He was on pins and needles as the mail soared in from the top window, the usual cascade of owls streaming in.
He glanced over at Katie as his own landed next to him. Her usually light hearted face was conducted into a scowl as three owls landed in front of her captain - even more, no doubt on their way. She rolled her eyes as a pink envelope was dropped into his cereal but smiled slightly as milk spilled into his lap.
Anxiously he waited for an owl to land in front of her. Wondering if it ever would he breathed a sigh of relief as Katie stared at the owl in front of her. Thumbing his fingers on the table, he watched as she gently untied the envelope from the tawny owl's outstretched leg, passing it a biscuit before it flew away. He watched as she ripped open the top a bit hesitantly and cautiously - not knowing what to expect. He watched as she read the letter, her green eyes flying across the page. She looked up startled, as if not daring to believe what she wrote. He waited for her to do something-glance his way even.
No such luck.
With horror he watched as her face formed into a unmistakable snarl (which meant she was five degrees passed pissed) and balled up the letter he had written in one quick motion of her Quidditch calloused hand.
"OLIVER TOBIAS WOOD!!!!"He slapped his hand against his forehead rather forcefully.
"YOU ARE SO PATHETIC! MAKING FUN AT ME WITH A FAKE LOVE LETTER!"
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT NOW BELL?"
"YOU KNOW FULL WELL WHAT!"
With a roll of his blue eyes Roger Davies gave up.
Later that day in History of Magic Roger was feeling rather down - he was human after all. And after all, she made him methodical. Sliding further down in his seat - his cool guy look as two girls smirked his way - and running a hand through his hair, he shook it off with a shrug.
He never liked being methodical anyway.
He couldn't believe he'd kept it up for two weeks in the first place.
He sent the girls a smirk of his own and smiled contently as they giggled.