Disclaimer: Right. I so don't own Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's characters. But thanks for thinking I might be brilliant enough to.

A/N: Here it is! It's been gnawing at my mind until I did something about it. I think reviews are awesome. Therefore if you review, you are also awesome. –Virtual cookies- I am completely open and welcoming of constructive criticism, but flames not so much. (Flames not at all, actually.) Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Of Love and Quidditch

Chapter One: Of Weather and Certain Doom

The pitch was soaking and the mud caught fast to Oliver's shoes, making them heavier with each step until they were almost as heavy as his spirits.

It had been a bad day. He'd been late to breakfast and ate so fast he almost couldn't keep it down, had an argument with one of his Chasers, and then almost single-handedly lost the Quidditch match. Yes, it had been a bad day.

So what was a little rain? Nothing, aside from the fact that he'd probably catch pneumonia and die, with only Madam Pomfrey by his side.

Maybe he should go in. Why was he walking laps around the Quidditch field, anyway? Did he really think it was going to work out all his major frustrations?

He glanced up and saw a person with a black umbrella making their way toward him.

"Oliver Wood," they shouted, "Get your pale Scottish bum over here right now!"

Ah, Katie, he thought, but didn't say anything, choosing instead to slope toward her in silence. When he got close enough to see her face, he could see – quite clearly – she was angry.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrilled in his ear. "Sulking about in the rain-"

"I was –"

"– like a bloody idiot – "

"- thinking, thank you very – "

"- I swear, you're going to get pneumonia – "

"- much."

"- and because I bothered to trek all the way out here to fetch you, I'll catch it too, and you'll just bring me down with you, hacking and shivering all the while."

They glared at one another before Katie said grouchily, "Well, get under the umbrella, then. It's why I brought it."

"No, thank you. I can't get much wetter than this." Oliver started walking, staying just out of reach of the shelter of the umbrella. Katie kept trying to sneak it over his head, but he'd dodge away and continue on mulishly, slogging his way toward the castle.

- - - -

Once they were inside, dripping profusely in the hallway, Katie fiercely snapped the umbrella shut and shook the water off, making sure to aim it in Oliver's general direction. She pulled her wand from her robes and pointed it at her feet, muttering, "Scourgify" to clean off the mud before starting toward the Gryffindor common room without even a glance at Oliver.

"Thanks for coming out," he called after her, deciding a little appreciation might soothe her feelings, which would therefore make life in general a little better.

"Angelina made me," she threw over her shoulder without slowing down.

"Right, because you obviously just don't care enough," he called. She didn't reply, but he saw her shoulders stiffen as she stalked around the corner.

Oliver waited a few more moments before following her so he could avoid conversation with her all together.

"Fiddlepuss," he muttered when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who gave him a dirty look before eyeing the thin but steady trail of mud he'd left behind.

"Argus will have a fit," she warned, but Oliver ignored her, climbing through the entrance.

"Oliver!" Fred exclaimed cheerily, looking up from the couch. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd gone and done yourself in."

George nodded in agreement. "And Katie was in a right ugly mood. Just huffed past us all to go up to the dorms. Quite snappish. Did you say something?"

"She's always snappish," Oliver said, a bit snappish himself.

"Not always. Just recently. Maybe it's because of that little tiff you two had this morning," Alicia suggested, looking up from a nearby table. "Have you apologized?"

Oliver shifted awkwardly.

"Well?"

"No," he grumbled, flopping onto the couch beside George.

"Because really, it was kind of your fault you two argued," Fred pointed out. Oliver sighed and rolled his head back on the couch.

"I know."

"And your game was seriously off today," George added. "No offense. But it's definitely been better."

"Thanks, George. Your game was off, too." Actually, George had been doing pretty well, aside from the Bludger he'd smacked in Oliver's direction. But come to think of it, that might have been intentional. Oliver had been yelling orders quite frantically. "Maybe if I knock my head against the wall hard enough and fast enough I'll get amnesia and can pretend today never happened."

Fred's face lit up. "Ooh, you should try one of our Bubble Blissers! Makes you happy. Even though the taste's a bit off."

"So," Alicia interjected, "Are you apologizing tonight or tomorrow?"

"What is it with you trying to get me to apologize?" Oliver asked, exasperated.

"I'm thinking it will make practice tomorrow bearable for everyone else."

"Hear hear," Fred said. "With the both of you in moods, nothing will get done unless you say sorry."

Oliver heaved himself off the couch, realizing his robes were still quite wet and felt goose bumps rise on his arms. "All right, all right."

Alicia jumped up. "I'll go get her for you." She sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory and Oliver stood at the bottom waiting.

He hoped fervently it would go well. She's not the type of girl to throw things, he reassured himself as what may or may not have been certain doom loomed above him at the top of the stairs.