Summary: Katie Bell and Oliver Wood: they make a formidable pair on the Quidditch pitch, but it'll take some convincing by the Weasley's, Angelina and Alicia to prove they make an excellent pair off the Quidditch pitch as well. Hopefully a sweet, funny story. When completed, hoping it'll be fairly longish. Not like War and Peace proportions or anything. Just not like 5 chapters or so.

Each chapter will be written first in Katie's point of view, then Oliver's. I hope it doesn't sound boring getting the same chapter twice, but they'll have different spins, perspectives etc. You can always skip Oliver's point of view, because Katie's the main character. I think. And sorry about the dodgy title. May I just say, I love this couple. They make such a cute pair. Rated for language, although I try to keep it limited to 'bloody' 'freaking' and 'hell.' My first FF, please don't kill me, but I always love feedback, about the plot, character, spelling, structure; don't care. I'll take whatever I get.

Name: Katrina Anne Bell.
Age: 16
Hair colour: Annoyingly long and unfortunately blonde.
Current mood: daydreaming
Current location: Quidditch pitch, Gryffindor team practise

The wind whipped at my fluttering sleeves, forcing me to squint my eyes to keep an eye on the game. I would like to think that although the wind was ripping through my hair and tugging it from my ribbon, as a concession my hair was unfurling behind me like a triumphantly billowing banner. In my dreams. My hair is a nightmare. Well, that's what I like to imagine my hair doing, but most probably the wind was just snarling and snagging it so it resembled a plate of spaghetti rather than a proudly flying banner. Eh. Whatever. I had better things to worry about than the state of my hair. There was a tinge of coolness in the breeze, a forewarning of rain, or perhaps even snow. I love snow, although it doesn't bode well for the upcoming Quidditch game. I love the way snow lands on your face and melts down your neck, like a shiver. BAM!
Out of nowhere, some unknown force belted me square in the side of my face. I shook my head several times to clear it, losing several feet in altitude as my broom slowly spiralled towards the ground. I hope no-one saw that. I especially hope that one person in particular didn't see that.

"What the hell, Bell? What were you doing, giving a weather forecast or playing Quidditch!" Wood bellowed from across the pitch, his voice so stubborn and obstinate it travelled over the roaring winds. Nope, he saw it. Fricken Scotsman sees everything. I pull my broom handle back up but make no effort to fly any closer to Wood.
"I was waiting for you to get your arse into gear so we could make that play were supposed to be practising!" I shouted back across the pitch. Across the field I could make out Wood's game on face.
"Here we go again," mumbled Alicia.
"She gives as good as she gets," George grinned.
"Well, you could have done something constructive while you were waiting." Wood retorted.
"I was," I snapped. "I was speculating about future atmospheric conditions." Wood didn't even skip a beat.
"You mean you were day-dreaming about whether it was going to snow."
"It would have a detrimental affect on our upcoming game this Friday, a dynamic which I think you should factor into the equation when determining our game strategy." Take that, NEWT boy. Oliver did look slightly taken back.
"Well, you could have at least concentrated on dodging that Bludger." He finally conceded.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Fred apologised as he whipped by me.
Taking advantage of my moment of distraction, Oliver ploughed on. "That sort of behaviour could cost us the game, Bell." He lectured. Him and his bloody Quidditch. "At all times should you be aware of all players and objects around you." It was at this moment that Fred took it upon himself to aim a Bludger straight at Wood's back.
"Fore!" Fred bellowed, right before the Bludger slammed into Oliver's back, knocking the wind out of his lungs and the insults out of his mouth. It would probably be unsportman-like of me to laugh at him. But what the hell. Ha. Score 1 to Katie Bell. Oliver Wood: 0.

Three hours later it had begun drizzling slightly, and we weren't wearing our heavier, thicker robes, so Wood called practice off. Although we were already an hour and a half over time. We'd missed dinner as well, and I had been looking forward to dessert. It was probably a new dieting ploy devised by Wood anyway. He was lucky he had such a dedicated team that loyally put up with all his eccentricities.
"Good job, team." Wood enthused as we separated into different locker rooms. Yeah, not much of an incentive, is it? I honestly don't know why the whole team just doesn't mutiny against him, the amount of stuff he puts us through.

Angelina, Alicia and I traipsed into the hot showers, hoping to melt away the oncoming pneumonia. Angelina didn't even bother to take off any of her Quidditch robes as she slunk under the water, reasoning her robes were already soaked through. We all took our time in the shower, not wanting to disrupt dinner. The boys didn't mind showing up mud-streaked and filthy in all their manly glory, but Angelina and Alicia didn't want to know about it. Being fifth-years, they were all getting into the idea of dating, and being on the Quidditch team was certainly helping their popularity. Actually, I didn't want to burst their bubble, but dating and the emotional mind-games it seemed to hold nonplussed me a bit, but they got loads of enjoyment out of the whole idea of dressing up and looking pretty. It just seemed like a lot of extra work and worry.

"You just haven't found the right guy yet." Angelina reasoned as she pulled a brush through her wet hair, using her wand to dry it afterwards, steam rising from the ends. I gave up on my hair long ago.
"And who have you found?" Alicia teased as Angelina blushed.
"No-one yet. But I'm looking."
"She fancies George," Alicia whispered to me, "Which is why she spends so long prettying up after practise. She doesn't like Gorgeous Georgeous seeing her all windswept and muddied after each game." Alicia's quick reflexes saved her from being mortally wounded by Angelina's airborne brush.

We trudged back out of the locker rooms half an hour later, changed and slightly warmer, with more of a spring in our step. That was, before we were assaulted full blast by the gale-force, bone-chilling winds that swept across the grounds, flattening the grass and almost bowling us back into the change rooms. All of Angelina's careful hair-styling would have been for nothing. I stole a quick look at her. Yep. Completely devastated. She fingered a lock of her already-snagged hair, a pout on her lips.

George gravitated to her side almost by magnetic force, eyes sparkling and insults on the tip of his tongue, but one Look from Angelina shut him up. If only the rest of us had that power. But only the power of Love would make George pass up an opportunity to make a joke at another's expense.
"What are you still doing here?" Alicia asked as Fred put his arm around her shoulder. She raised an eyebrow then removed his offending limb from her person.
"Why, my good ladies, when we noticed these rather atrocious winds, we took it upon our kind selves to escort you back to the fine establishment that is our beloved Hogwarts." Fred began walking Alicia up the path to Hogwart's entrance, using his body as a shield against the wind. I noticed this time when he put an arm around her, she didn't refuse.
"Seeing as you are such delicate petals that could be blown away in such a puff of breeze such as this." George added, following suit. He and Angelina staggered bravely out into the winds.

Wood had his head down, hands shoved in pockets. No doubt he was worrying about what havoc the winds might play on our game, if they continued until the end of the week. He was probably re-formulating new game strategies we'd have to remember, and probably scheduling several hours of practise tomorrow. I felt momentarily disappointed that I wouldn't have a guiding arm to help me brave the winds. I hated the cold, and that wind cut right through cloth and skin and froze the bone. But I shrugged and stepped into the cold with my head down and hands in pockets, mirroring Wood. Harry flanked me on my left, worried about thoughts of his own. Poor kid. He shouldn't have to, but I knew he worried about You-Know-Who. For some reason Harry had taken it upon himself to be personally responsible for protecting Hogwarts – and possibly the rest of the world – from You-Know-Who. And I thought worrying about OWL's and the Quidditch game was enough. We walked in silence back to the castle as snatches of the other's conversations floated past us.

Well team, what do we think? Oliver's POV next chapter :)