Oliver Wood surveyed the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry quidditch field. The sun was still inching its way above the still lake and he had to be in Muggle Studies in fifteen minutes, but he had been aching to see the field. He had followed Percy Weasley half way to breakfast before ducking behind a coat of arms to lose the chattering prefect and fellow seventh year student. Out here, zooming through the air on his Nimbus 2000, throbbing with concentration, sweaty, heart pounding, almost dizzy with exhilaration was how he wanted to be. Oliver thrived on Quidditch and felt physically and emotionally drained by almost every other task at Hogwarts.

"Gotta get the team out as soon as possible," he mumbled, babbling out loud as he always did when he was alone. Straightening his black class robe, Oliver walked into the center of the field and closed his deep brown eyes, feeling the cool breeze on his face. In a moment the breeze seemed to pick up speed, streaming through his hair and making his robe billow. "We have to win the cup this year, we have to win the cup this year . . ." he repeated, gradually saying it louder and louder. Suddenly Oliver heard a thud behind him and he jumped, jolting out of his daydream. The wind slowed again, his breathing steadied, and he pivoted carefully to see what was there.

"Sorry," the girl said, climbing clumsily back on her ratty broom. "I've never been good at landings." She shrugged, examining Oliver with an unsettlingly demure expression on her face. She seemed unshakably in control, causing Oliver to blush. He hated the thought that someone had seen him out on the field alone, muttering to himself like a prisoner in Azkaban. He hated confident people - they only made his awkwardness more obvious.

"I, uh, I . . . that's okay," he finally managed to say, staring at the air next to her head.

"Lovely," she replied. A quick smile flashed on her lips, not changing her composed features at all, and then she kicked off from the ground yelling "See you around!" as her broom jerked into the air.

She looked vaguely familiar to Oliver, but he didn't know a lot of people. He knew the names of maybe two thirds of the people in his year, and a smattering of those in the six years below him. She wasn't on any of the quidditch teams, unless she was new to one this year. He watched her fly, and knew immediately that she couldn't be a quidditch player. Her flying was frightening - she stopped and started so frequently that she must get sick in a matter of minutes. Oliver couldn't watch her because it made him dizzy, but he felt like he should stay around just in case she fell off her wild broom. Suddenly, though, he remembered Muggle Studies. With one last glance at the out-of-control broom he began to run, his long cape flailing behind him.

After dinner that same evening, Oliver hunched over the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, talking with Percy and his girlfriend, Penelope. Since it was the first day of classes, many students lingered in Great Hall, chatting, playing games, and trying simple spells. Penelope and Percy were playing Wizard Chess and chattering incessantly with each other and sometimes at Oliver.

"Cedric Diggory, eh?" Oliver asked, transforming the tiny team members in his magical miniature Quidditch set to the seven members of the Hufflepuff team.

"Yeah, apparently he joined the team at the end of last term because they lost their captain - he went off to work at the Ministry of Magic. I'm already looking for a position there too, even though it's only the beginning of the term . . ." Percy rattled on while the miniscule figure of Cedric Diggory buzzed around Oliver's head like an oversized hornet.

Oliver grabbed the mock Cedric and placed him on the realistic grass of the Quidditch field. The figure waved his broom at Oliver indignantly, triggering one of Oliver's trademark smiles. The smiles lasted only a second, brightening his distanced but handsome features. At his smiles girls swooned because it meant he had actually noticed them, the Gryffindor Quidditch team sighed with relief because it meant he was actually pleased with them, and guys felt a sudden desire to punch him for reasons they never understood. Oliver noticed none of this.

"Well, I don't know what they think they're doing making a sixth year seeker," he finally replied when Cedric began to zoom carelessly around the field, searching for the non-existent snitch.

Percy and Penelope didn't respond because Penelope had just won their game of Wizard Chess and they were teasing each other, poking and tickling and smiling in an exclusive way. Oliver turned away from them, uncomfortable again. He sometimes managed to settle into a state of friendly comfort around Percy, but now that Penelope was around he rarely felt settled around them. Luckily, he was saved by Fred and George Weasley.

"Can't you at least go find a wardrobe or something to do that in?" Fred asked Percy as he hopped up on the table and plopped down, nearly crushing his tiny Quidditch model counterpart that had escaped onto the tabletop. "Hey, it's me!" He exclaimed, picking up the figure and examining it.

"For your information," Percy said in a snooty voice, "We are not doing anything inappropriate . . ."

"Right," George broke in, searching for the figure of himself among the Quidditch players cruising around the field. "And Professor Snape isn't a . . ."

"Now, now," Percy stopped his brother before he could bless them all with his description of Snape. "There are ladies present."

Fred and George snorted simultaneously, but Penelope gave Percy an endearing smile.

"It's not that we have anything against you, Penelope . . ." Fred explained.

"It's just that we don't understand why you would want to touch someone as slimy as Percy." George finished, then turned to Oliver before Percy could protest. "You starting in on Quidditch strategies already, Wood?"

The miniature Wood dashed in maddening streaks in front of the quill-sized goal posts while the real Wood shrugged. "Never too early. Just trying to find out about the teams."

"Well, I'll tell you what strategies we can use," Fred said, changing the frantic Hufflepuff players into glaring, nasty Slytherin players.

"They're even mean when they're little," George commented.

"So we'll smash them!" Fred steered his player next to Marcus Flint and knocked him on the head with his beater. Marcus fell to the ground, but jumped up seconds later.

"Oh, that won't do!" George exclaimed and his player landed next to the dazed Marcus and whacked him in the leg with his beater.

Oliver left the twins to their torturing and glanced at Percy and Penelope out of the corner of his eye. Percy was rolling his eyes at his brothers but Penelope was unsuccessfully trying to conceal a smile.

"If you really want to know the news about Quidditch teams, you have to hear about Ravenclaw's team this year," Penelope told Oliver with a proud smile. Oliver raised his eyes, a gesture almost as pulse-quickening as his smiles. Even Penelope was not immune to his innocent charm and faltered before replying. Percy felt the slightest impulse to smash Wood in the face, but it quickly passed.

"We have a new beater this year, and she's a girl." Penelope's face lit up with pride.

"A girl beater!" George shouted and he and Fred quickly transformed the mini Quidditch players into Ravenclaws' team.

"Where is she?" Fred demanded, examining the players.

"Since we don't know who she is you won't be able to make her yet," Oliver explained.

"Well who is she?!" It seemed as if both the twins were assaulting Penelope at the same time and Percy held his hands up to guard her. Penelope pulled one of Percy's arms around her shoulders so she could face the twins.

"Her name is Emma Baxter and she's in my dormitory," she explained. "I know her!" As soon as George said it one of the players slowly began to form into Emma. Oliver watched the transformation and knew long before it finished that it was the crazy flyer from that morning. Her eyes, though tiny, were the same eyes that had rested annoyingly in the back of his mind all day. He hadn't noticed them when he had talked with her briefly on the Quidditch field, but after he'd been in Muggle Studies for five minutes they began to haunt him. Emma's eyes were astonishingly dark; they didn't seem to have any color at all, simply to be piercing pools of liquefied night sky. The small Emma was now plunging down and snapping up like a fishing line being cast over and over as she tried to make her way around the field. George and Fred were laughing at her, but Penelope looked upset.

"Emma tries to fly," she told Oliver with a sigh. "But she's never quite been able to get it down. She'd be an excellent beater if she could just sort out this flying problem."

"No spell could make her a good flier!" George said triumphantly.

Percy growled at him and both the twins were quiet for once. "You should talk to her,"

Percy suggested to Oliver, pointing to a figure across the room. "She really needs someone who can help her."

Oliver studied Emma, sitting by herself on the other side of the room and couldn't help but feel sorry for her. "What am I going to say, though?" he asked, not meaning to voice the question out loud.

"Just offer to help her," Percy said and Penelope nodded emphatically.

"I don't know . . ." It took Percy, Penelope, George, and Fred fifteen minutes to convince Oliver to go talk to Emma, but eventually he gave in just to get away from their pestering.

"This is crazy," Oliver murmured to himself as he slowly approached Emma. "I don't just walk up to people I don't know and talk to them. You have to be friendly in order to do that and I am not friendly." He took a deep breath trying to calm down and stop talking to himself. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was crazy even before he actually said anything to her. Had he even managed a coherent sentence that morning? He couldn't remember. He'd tried to block out the short conversation because it embarrassed him, but it was impossible to block out those eyes.

As he got closer to her he noticed that she wasn't just sitting dejectedly by herself, she was intent on cleaning a series of wounds scattered all over her body. Oliver winced - she must have fallen several times that morning, although even one major crash on or from a broomstick could make you look like you'd lost a very violent magic duel, as Oliver knew from experience.

A three-inch gash marked Emma's right leg underneath her bruised knee and tiny cuts dotted both her arms, but her face looked the most painful. Oliver guessed that the metal bindings on her broom were loose and had slashed her across the mouth when she fell. The cut stretched from next to her left eye to the center of her chin, slitting her lips on the way. One black eye suggested that the broom had also smacked her in the face. Emma was roughly scrubbing the gash on her leg with a cloth that reddened more every second.

"Did you just walk around with these injuries all day?" Oliver asked her, too shocked to wonder where the words came from.

Emma jumped, her face clenching in pain as she looked up at him. "Maybe. What do you care?"

Oliver, startled by her brashness, lost his short burst of confidence. "Sorry, I, well, I just wanted to make sure you were okay," and turned to leave.

"No, wait," Emma beckoned him back and Oliver looked at her hesitantly. "I'm sorry, it's just that this bloody stuff hurts so badly." She indicated a bottle on the table and Oliver picked it up, examining the label. "Madame Pomfrey gave it to me. It's some crazy new magic healing potion. It should guarantee that I don't get any infections but it stings something fierce."

Oliver set the bottle down again and shyly sat down next to her. "I always seem to be unconscious when they use this type of stuff on me," he commented with a quick smile.

"Yeah . . ." For a second her face lost its controlled expression, but she quickly regained it. It was, of course, the smile that caused her to falter. "To answer your question," she said, turning away from his powerful facial features, "Yes, I walked around like this all day, without treatment."

"Why?" Oliver asked as he watched her run her fingers over the long scab that was already forming over the gash on her leg. "Because I had to go to Potions." That was all she said in the way of explanation and Oliver decided that was enough. "I'll get some pretty impressive scars out of the deal though," she added with an amused smile.

"Got a few of those myself from Quidditch," Oliver offered. She didn't look at him because she knew he was smiling.

"Would you mind putting this stuff on my face for me?" she asked after she decided it was safe to look at him again.

"Uh, sure," Oliver complied. She handed him the rag and he performed a quick spell to make it clean again. "That's better." He poured some of the potion on the cloth and carefully dabbed it against the part of the cut near her eye. "I'm Oliver Wood, by the way." "I know that," she replied. Her captivating eyes were squeezed tightly shut but otherwise she showed no signs of pain. "It's pretty hard not to know who you are."

"Eh, I'm not that well known around here. I'm no Harry Potter." Oliver never liked to think that people were watching him all the time just because he was a quidditch captain. It was too scary a thought.

"Ok, suit yourself," Emma complied. She knew that there was not a female at Hogwarts that didn't know who Oliver Wood was and didn't watch his every move. She was quiet for a moment as Oliver gently pressed the cloth to her lips.

"Tell me if it hurts, or if you taste any of this nasty stuff." But Emma said nothing, her eyes still closed, but more lightly now. Oliver wanted her to open them so he could examine them up close. But as soon as he said he was finished cleaning the cut she got up, turning away from him.

"It's really getting late. I should get going. Thanks for helping me out." The control and composure were back in her voice and on her face.

"Bye," Oliver said, not sure if she heard him as she walked away.

Oliver sat for a moment, baffled by his encounter with Emma. He didn't know what to make of her - she was friendly, then aloof, then friendly again - it was much too complicated for him to figure out. He didn't like dealing with people in this way, playing games and trying to interpret expressions and gestures. Relationships should be straight forward, but since they tended not to be, Oliver avoided them. He put thoughts of Emma aside, deciding, as usual, to focus on quidditch.

He remembered suddenly that he had left the miniature quidditch set with the Weasley twins. Afraid of what they might have done to the little players, Oliver sprinted back to the Gryffindor table. Percy, Penelope, the Weasley twins, and the quidditch set were gone. Hopefully, Oliver thought, Percy had wrestled the set away from the twins and brought it back safely to their dormitory. Percy tended to look out for Oliver when he was preoccupied with an upcoming quidditch match or simply having one of his frequent absent-minded moments.

Oliver scanned the Great Hall, trying to decide if it really was late enough to go to bed. There were still quite a few people around, including Professor Lupin, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who was demonstrating something for a large group of students huddled around the Hufflepuff table. Cedric Diggory was one of them, and Oliver examined the new quidditch captain. He still didn't think Diggory was a good choice for seeker, but he was probably an excellent choice for captain. Hufflepuff might actually be competition this year, Oliver said to himself.

Cedric, he noticed, was flocked by girls. Even among a large gathering of people it was easy to tell that five or six girls were simply there to be near Cedric. This was always the case for the handsome sixth year. The girls followed him like doting fans, bringing him whatever he wanted, giggling at everything he said, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Cedric tolerated it and never took advantage of them but he didn't really appreciate his constantly present admirers.

After watching Cedric and the beaming girls for a few minutes Oliver realized, quite suddenly, that he too had female followers. He often noticed that when he turned around abruptly for one reason or another a cluster of girls, usually first to third years, would scatter, giggling profusely. In the past he had never thought about it long enough to realize that they were following him. Very, very slowly Oliver pivoted around, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of the girls who were undoubtedly there before they disappeared. He made eye contact with one little second year who shrieked, sending the little pack of four into a frenzy. In a few minutes they would regroup.

Stunned, Oliver stumbled over to where the three Gryffindor quidditch team chasers were sitting. Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, and Alicia Spinnet eyed him suspiciously.

"Are you going to bother us about quidditch already?" Alicia grumbled.

Oliver just shook his head and said "Are they always around me?"

Alicia, alarmed by his baffling question, patted him on the head and peered into his eyes.

"You ok, Wood?" she questioned. "Take a bludger to the head already?"

Oliver rolled his eyes at Alicia while Angelina giggled.

"He's talking about his fan club," Katie explained, using her head to indicate the young girls whispering together about ten feet away from Oliver.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at her appreciatively and smiled, forcing Katie to brace her hands against the bottom of the table so she wouldn't jump up and hug him.

"Ooooh, his fan club," Angelina was saying teasingly while Alicia nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, they're always there," Angelina informed him.

"Why?" Oliver asked and all three girls began laughing. Katie regained her composure first and replied coolly, "Let me explain something to you, Wood. You are not a bad-looking guy and you have a wicked accent. Girls follow you around for about the first three years they're at Hogwarts until they realize that you're not going to notice them. I think you've broken the hearts of half this bloody school."

Angelina and Alicia starting laughing again but Katie remained quiet. Although Angelina and Alicia had managed to build up a kind of immunity to Oliver over the years, Katie had not. She lied to her fellow chasers and said that yes, he was gorgeous, but no, she was no longer attracted to him. He was still gorgeous to her, but her attractions had only faded slightly. Like the dent a drip of water makes in a rock over a period of time, maybe she would one day stop liking him. In the meantime she tried to do her best to keep it under control. Nothing was going to happen anyway.

"You're a rock," Alicia told Oliver, finally able to control her laughter. "When you show no signs of even caring that they're there the girls eventually give up on you. Then they start chasing after Diggory," she finished with a smile.

"Really." Oliver was still shocked. He didn't know what to do with this information. He glanced from Alicia to Angelina to Katie who were now all straight-faced. Katie winced slightly when he looked at her. She thought, like many other girls, that his frozenness only made him more attractive. Oliver was a beautiful and unattainable mystery. It was hard not to want that.

"Well, I, uh, I think I'm going to go to bed now." Oliver got up, trying very hard to think about quidditch. For the first time in six years, this tactic failed him.

"Goodnight Wood!" Angelina and Alicia chorused. Katie watched him walk away with his steady, concentrated stride. She was more confused than ever.

**

Emma examined the painful cut on her face in the large mirror in her Ravenclaw dormitory. She sat with her wounded leg stretched out in front of her, leaning against Penelope's bed.

"Ow, ow!" she exclaimed touching the slit part of her lips. She had concentrated while Oliver was cleaning the slash and managed not to cry out although it felt like he was pouring an itching potion in it. He had been very gentle and she allowed herself to be preoccupied with the feel of his fingers brushing her lips since it kept her distracted from the pain. At the time it had only been a device to keep her from showing pain but the fact that she could still feel his touch was beginning to worry her.

"Oh bloody hell," she muttered to herself. She was not in second year anymore - her Oliver Wood days were over, end of story.

"What are you mumbling about?" Penelope asked, coming into the room.

"Nothing," Emma replied, hoisting herself up awkwardly onto her injured leg. "Nothing at all."

Penelope flopped down on her bed while Emma hobbled across the room. In the morning even the deep gash on her leg would be only a scar.

"Did you have a nice talk with Oliver Wood?" Penelope asked, trying to be coy.

Emma spun around and peered at her suspiciously. "Did you have something to do with him coming over to talk to me?"

Penelope brushed her thick red hair nonchalantly, examining a picture of Percy next to her bed. "Mmmm . . . maybe."

"Bugger, Penelope! What did you have to do that for? I don't need his help!" Emma also pulled out a brush, ripping the bristles through her red- blonde, shoulder-length hair. Emma was stunning, not so much because she was beautiful as because she had such unusual looks. Her eyes, of course, shocked everyone, and tended to detract from her unusually dark skin, surprisingly smooth hair, and faint dimples. People were constantly astounded by Emma's looks, discovering one feature at a time and finding themselves preoccupied with that single feature for months. Oliver would actually move on to her nose when he recovered from his obsession with her eyes.

"Well, if he's experienced that temper of your's he's not going to want to help you anyway," Penelope said matter-of-factly, watching her little picture of Percy as it waved and blew her kisses.

Emma sighed. She fell backwards on her bed and stared at the ceiling until her frustration calmed. "It's not that I don't want his help, it's that I don't want to need help. Do you know any other sixth years who can't fly?"

"Well, no. But Oliver is a nice guy. He's not going to make fun of you and he could teach you a lot. Besides, he could use some friends."

Maybe he doesn't want friends, Emma thought. But out loud she said, "Okay. If I see him tomorrow I will ask him."

"Brilliant!" Penelope replied, waving at Percy as he walked out of the picture. I'll just have to try not to see him tomorrow, Emma decided as she lay in bed trying to sleep an hour later. And I can just learn to fly by myself.

**

"Ok, out with it," Angelina demanded. Katie sat on the floor of the Gryffindor fifth year dormitory while Angelina sat on the bed above her, struggling with Katie's troublesome hair. Normally Katie's hair defied control but Angelina was practicing braiding it so that they could get it out of the way for quidditch matches.

"What are you talking about?" Katie asked innocently, looking up from "Caring For Injured Dragons," an enormous book propped open on her crossed legs. Angelina dropped Katie's hair with a frustrated exclamation and started a new braid.

"Well, you've been sullen and quiet ever since our talk with Oliver. And you haven't turned a page in ten minutes," she pointed out.

"Hey, I'm absorbing this. It's not exactly light reading. 'If the dragon suffers an internal burn there is very little that can be done . . .'" Angelina tugged on Katie's hair to make her stop reading.

"Ouch!" Katie exclaimed. "That was not necessary."

"Yes it was," Angelina replied, once again letting go of Katie's hair. "Now put the book down and look at me."

Katie closed the thick book and dropped it on the floor. It made a loud "thud" that echoed around the tall dormitory. She turned hesitantly to face Angelina, not looking her friend in the eyes.

"Katie, it can't be that bad. You can tell me," Angelina prodded her. The two had been best friends since first year. Although they often spent time with Alicia who was a year younger than them, they were known around Hogwarts as a twosome.

Katie hesitated, playing with the ends of her hair that now hung down over her knees, hugged tightly to her chest. "I know this is crazy and stupid, but I still like Oliver. It's not that even want to," she rushed on, anxious to explain herself before Angelina could say anything. "I don't even really think that we would be a good couple. I mean, I've watched him for three years now on the quidditch team and I can't stand his desire to be in control of everything and his bloody tempermentalness, and his inability to connect with people. But at the same time I'm really attracted to him and I wish he would let me be his friend at least." Katie beat her head against the bed until Angelina grabbed her on both sides of her head and forced her to stop.

"I figured it was something like this," Angelina said with an empathetic smile. "I think you have more patience with him than Alicia and I do. We get so frustrated with him during practice sometimes that we don't even notice anymore that he's gorgeous. But you have a bigger heart. You are sensitive to people's needs and want to help them. Oliver won't let you help him and I have to wonder if that's what's really bothering you. Maybe you don't fancy him so much as want to befriend him."

Katie shook her head slowly, shocked at Angelina's truthful assessment of her deeper feelings. "What I fear is that I want to befriend him so that I can feel good about myself rather than because it will be better for him," she explained, surprised at the words even as she said them.

Angelina nodded. "Well, then at least you are being honest with yourself. Look, it's getting late and you are going to wear yourself out thinking about him. Let's go to sleep and we can talk more about it in the morning."

Katie smiled mischievously. "This conversation was getting way too psychological anyway. Let's have some real girl talk."

"Cedric Diggory?" Angelina asked with a knowing smile.

"Definitely," Katie replied, and both girls began to giggle uncontrollably.

When their three roommates came into the room a few minutes later the two chasers were still giggling and talking about Cedric. When the three newcomers learned the subject of their laughter it launched a gossip session about cute Hogwarts boys that lasted late into the night. By 1:30 in the morning Katie had so many new crush ideas that Oliver had been pushed to the back of her mind.