Author's Note: Wow, it's been ages, hasn't it? I'm actually doubting anyone will read this because 1: I have never written a one-shot 2: I have never written a Harry Potter fic and 3: I have not written at all in so long everyone is probably going "Inferno Who?" But, all the same, whoever is reading this- I had loads of fun writing this, thank you Procrastinator-starting2moro for un-knowingly inspiring me to crawl out of the mass fanfiction writing grave and I hope you all like it.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the stuff in this fanfiction, I just obsessively wrote about it.
Katie hated being kissed on top of the head. It made her feel rather like her aunt's old Persian cat getting sympathy after hacking up yet another ball of hair onto the rug. She was not an old fluffy cat with hair balls! She was a passionate woman!
Or, in any case, she was a very annoyed girl with an aggravation-causing cute boyfriend who could not kiss properly. And she would really like to kiss him. He was mind-numbingly cute as far as boyfriend-shaped objects went and his lips looked rather soft and full- like marshmallows.
Every day was the same. It had been two months now and dearest Oliver still could not giver her a proper kiss, only head-kisses... Like the ancient cat's sympathy kisses, as previously established. In all actuality, the matter did not begin to truly irk her until the beginning of this week, on Monday... which is the first day of your average school week, thus, the beginning of the 'week'.
Monday Morning
Katie was settled in a fluffy armchair by the common room fire, consuming the latest issue of CosmoQuidditch. Consuming in a literary sense, of course, she had tried eating paper for fiber once and it just wasn't quite the same as a lovely bowl of Wheaties. This issue had advice on where to find the best no-run makeup to wear while flying and- Katie's favorite section- the top ten best-looking male Quidditch players. Angelina had circled the Italian keeper... Katie was more partial to keepers, however.
She rapidly hid her reading material under a cushion when she saw Oliver approaching her, wiping away the drool puddling on her chin and trying to appear innocent.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite Chaser." Oliver hugged her tightly around the shoulders. Quickly forgetting the images of all the dashing Quidditch players currently under her bum, she snuggled against Oliver's broad chest happily. She also conveniently forgot for the moment that she desired a more affectionate pet name than 'favorite chaser'.
"Where are you going?" she asked, tilting her head back to a view of Oliver's clean-shaven jaw. She was hoping that since classes did not start for another hour, her beloved boyfriend might actually hang around for a bit, instead of trudging off to a Quidditch pitch. Sometimes she could swear he and that patch of turf had more of a relationship together than he did with Katie.
"I'm going to say hi to- I mean, going to see- I meant, going to the Quidditch pitch."
She knew it...
He unwrapped his arms from her narrow shoulders, letting his calloused hands trail over them for a minute before letting them rest on the top of her armchair. "Harry and I are meeting down there, we need to work out a play-" he chattered on excitedly, not noticing the glare of doom Katie was giving him.
"Are you dating me or Harry?" she asked moodily, turning away and folding her arms into the 'pout position.' "You were with him and the Quidditch pitch over the weekend too."
"Aw, come on Katie," he affectionately ruffled her hair, something that little boys usually did to their dogs' ears. On the inside, Katie screamed her frustration.
"I promise I'll see you at lunch." he told her, squeezing her shoulder once before dropping a kiss on top of her head. That's when it hit her.
"Ow!"she shot a death glare at the idiot first years who decided to have 'paper war' with wads of parchment charmed to fly at high speeds about the common room. Rapidly, she transfigured the offending paper ball into a wad of gum lodged in the adolescent's hair. As he struggled with his newly sticky locks, she turned to Oliver.
"When do you plan to really kiss me?"she asked sweetly- or rather, sweetly laced with an underlying hint of you-better-answer-this-right-or-it's-your-man-bits-on-the-line.
"Wha- what?" the lanky keeper cleared his throat nervously. "I-I do kiss you," as if to prove it, he dropped his lips down on her hair again.
She barely resisted rolling her eyes. "No, Oliver, that's a Persian cat kiss, I mean a real kiss, one where your marshmallow lips touch my lips... I want big kid kisses!"
This sentence was too full of odd things for Oliver to process immediately, after blinking a few moments, he seemed to gather himself. "What kind of kisses have I been giving you? Why are my lips being compared to a fluffy dessert item that is composed of pure sugar? And what the pickle is big kid kissing?"
"Never mind that," she growled, not prepared to explain the odd workings of her mind- their relationship hadn't quite reached that level yet, that was more of a thing you told them after you had already married them and escape was more difficult. With the precision of a sniper, she scanned the room for what she was looking for.
"See!" she cried, pointing a triumphant finger at a couple snogging in the corner, actually, it was more like mauling. An audience of second years looked on, tilting their heads this way and that in morbid fascination.
When she turned to find Oliver, she discovered he had bolted back several feet, cowering against the wall. The boy had fallen from like a gajillion feet in the air, been hit with countless objects, had received a large share of broken bones... yet he was scared of the idea of properly kissing his girlfriend... the sense in that escaped her.
"Fine, Oliver, go meet your boyfriend." she sighed, freeing her magazine from under the cushion.
"ThankyouIloveyou- bye." he darted forward like a squirrel, gave her a head-kiss and scurried out the door, shaking his head all the while as if trying to rid himself of an insect trying to crawl in his ear.
This battle was lost.. But the war had just begun.
Present
The rest of the week followed much the same, Katie hinting at 'big kid kissing' and Oliver either pretending not to hear or acting just...strange- excuse me, stranger.
Perfect examples would be these two conversations:
Conversation 1
"Oliver, when are you going to kis-"
"Katie! Look! A purple hippogriff!"
"What?"
"A purple hippogriff! Oh! And it has a baby! An orange baby with purple freckles!"
"Have you gotten into Fred and George's stash of firewhiskey again?"
"Aw, you missed them... they just went into the forest, what were you saying again?"
Conversation 2
"Oliver, you know-"
"Katie? Sorry, I can't hear a thing."
"You have your hands over your ears, and are those Professor Sprout's earmuffs?"
"I can't hear you..."
"OLIVER WOOD! DO I HAVE TO DRAW YOU A BLOODY PICTURE!"
"What!"
Katie needed chocolate, and headache medicine.
Now that it was Friday evening, Katie found herself trudging onto the dewy grass of the Quidditch pitch trying to ignore the chill in the air, staring straight ahead where she had a wonderful view of her captain's scarlet robe-clad bottom. He was walking with the other male members of the team, all four of them had their brooms shouldered in a very manly fashion.
Practice went along as usual, a sweaty affair with much yelling from Oliver, goofing off from the twins, and an exchange of gossip on the side between Katie, Alicia, and Angelina. In other words, Harry was the only dedicated, or naive one who got anything done .
After practice though, was different. Everyone else went to change and shower so they would no longer smell of sweat and broomstick polish. Katie stayed behind tossing her broom from hand to hand and looking as innocent as a lion stalking a zebra with one hoof tied to cement block as she watched Oliver pack up. Right now he was on one knee, getting all of the balls into their crate.
As soon as he was up, Katie pounced.
Katie literally pounced.
"Oliver Wood- I'm fair vexed with you," Katie sat on her love's chest, holding the handle of her broom to his throat, a hand on either side of his head.
"Obviously." he grunted rather quietly, seeing as he had been tackled, pinned, and now had a fierce blonde girlfriend on his chest and a broomstick crushing his windpipe.
She sat back a bit with a self-satisfied smirk, half basking in victory and half contemplating what to do with her prize. "Do you know why you're in this position right now, Wood?"
Now it was his turn to smirk, "Define 'position', do we mean present situation or position as in- ow!" he barked and screwed his eyes shut as Katie cuffed him on the head. "Okay, okay, I am the humble, not-nearly-as-wonderful-as-my-beautiful-girlfriend, ignorant male and I beg your forgiveness for my crimes wronging you, my darling."
Katie arched an eyebrow, giving him a sideways gaze. "Are you serious or are you just trying to save yourself and your man bits?"
"Well, I'm rather fond of my man bits... Why? Is it working?"
She should kill him, but he was so adorable, looking up at her with wide, hopeful eyes, rather like a chinchilla would, or how she imagined a chinchilla would. And there was the fact that the team needed their captain for next week's match against Slytherin. Where did chinchillas come from? Did they eat pickles?
After realizing she had been staring at the empty sky for a good three minutes with a glazed expression, Katie called her rambling brain to order.
"You are going to tell me, right now Oliver, why you will not kiss me."
"Well, right now you are sitting on me and holding a broom to my throat, in the middle of a Quidditch pitch. That is somewhat kinky and is frowned upon by many authority figures inhabiting our school." he nodded sincerely.
"Oliver!" she looked down at him, pleading with him in a murderous way.
He swallowed, she watched his Adam's apple bob against the wooden broomstick with sincere fascination, it was so... bobble-like. When he cleared his throat meaningfully, she got the hint and pulled away the broom so he could speak better.
"Alright... I'll tell you." he looked up at her with almost teary eyes, "I have cooties."
That was the last thing she heard before she laughed herself unconscious.
Well, maybe not unconscious, but by the time she had stopped laughing, she had grass in her hair from rolling on the ground, her eyes were streaming, she was curled in a ball still holding a hand against the pain in her ribs while she giggled. Oliver sat cross-legged in front of her, her broom in his lap and an embarrassed scowl on his face.
"Are you happy now? I told you." he crossed his arms, pouting
"Oliver-" she sat up, still looking amused, "cooties are not real."
"Yes they are, I have them, I found out last month."
"Uh huh..." Katie arched an eyebrow, thinking of something, "Who told you this?"
"Your brother, he said I had a rare kind of cootie that was half doxy and if I kiss you, you'll turn into a blue vampire who constantly is on the hunt for kiwis and dragon eggs... and turns into a goat at midnight."
Suddenly, it all made sense, Katie's older brother had previously stated that if Oliver ever did anything to hurt her, he would break the guy's legs. He had also mentioned that if Oliver ever kissed her, he would see to it that Oliver would never again be able to sit on a broomstick without severe agonizing pain. Now he was moving on to head games. Sometimes Katie worried her brother planned to become the next Voldemort. She told her parents they should have dumped him at the pound at birth.
Then she wouldn't have had to endure her months of Persian cat kisses with mounting frustration.
Helping him to his feet, Katie put her arms loosely around her cute, but slightly gullible boyfriend's neck. Well, maybe it wasn't his fault, that bludger to his head during his very first game did not do wonders for his logic.
"My brother is an idiot, Oliver." she touched her nose to his, "he told you that just so you wouldn't kiss me."
"But... why?" Aw, his confused face was even cuter this close up. His cheeks, like hers, were flaming pink from the brisk air.
"Because he doesn't want me to have my first big kid kiss." she tilted her head slightly, Oliver did the same, bringing their lips less than an inch apart.
"But... what if I really do have cooties?" Oliver asked, she could almost feel his lips brush hers when he spoke.
"Oliver, I solemnly swear that if I become a vampire, I will officially make you my hostage and keep you by my side forever."
"You would really do that, Katie?"
"Only for you."
At that moment, fierce blue eyes met dreamy topaz Then, before her fluff-numbed brain could register it, Oliver's lips brushed hers timidly, then he seemed to grow bolder, holding her tighter in his strong arms.. She buried her hands in his wind-tousled locks as he held her closer to his wonderfully broad chest, close enough that she no longer noticed the sun was setting and the air was growing in its coldness. What she did notice was the feeling of warmth flooding her veins and the utter feeling of pure joy and contentment, and no signs of cooties. And the fact that he tasted of powered sugar doughnuts.
She would really have to tell her aunt's Persian what he was missing.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Well, I hope y'all liked it. Thanks for reading!