Katie yawned as she settled down into one of the armchairs nearest the fire. They were definitely the most comfortable, but usually they were snapped up by the first people to arrive after dinner, so she didn't normally get to sit in them. Now, however, it was one in the morning, and other than Katie, the common room was deserted.

Or maybe not quite so deserted - Katie stopped fiddling with the hem of her nightdress and jumped up, alarmed, when she heard the portrait hole open and somebody entering through it.

"Oliver!" she gasped, astonished. "What on Earth were you doing outside at this time of night?"

Oliver was a sight; wet and bedraggled, he was still dressed in his Quidditch robes, and trailing mud through the common room. "I could ask you the same question," he said evasively.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him. "But... Oliver, you look like you've been playing Quidditch. At one in the morning. In this weather!" she exclaimed, gesturing through the window towards the howling gale outside.

"I needed to practise," he said, dark circles evident under his eyes from exhaustion. "The scout from Puddlemere is coming to the Ravenclaw match on Saturday - I need to be on top form."

Katie shook her head incredulously.

"What?" Oliver demanded. "There's nothing wrong with aiming high."

Katie stared at him for a moment. "You're not aiming high, you're trying to destroy yourself."

Oliver shrugged. "Whatever. I've heard it all before."

"No, seriously!" Katie grabbed his sleeve to stop him from ascending the spiral staircase to his dormitory. "You won't be on top form if you carry on like this. You're not indestructible, Oliver Wood, no matter how much you might want to think so." There was a brief silence as Oliver took in her words and Katie tried to calm herself. "Look at yourself. You're exhausted. You need to pace yourself."

Oliver laughed. "Yes, Mum," he teased, and Katie scowled at him. "Okay. I won't overwork myself. Happy?"

"No, I don't believe you," she said, but she was smiling. "Because overworking yourself is just what makes you... Oliver."

"And being a worrier is what makes you Katie," Oliver responded. "And that's one of the things I love about you."

There was a silence in which Katie hardly dared to breathe. Had she really just heard that right? Oliver had just said he loved her. She'd been trying to stop herself having those feelings about him for years, but maybe... maybe it wasn't so wrong after all.

"Sorry," Oliver said cautiously, "please forget I ever said that. It just slipped out, I -"

Katie cut him off by capturing his lips with hers.

"I've always loved you, Oliver," she confessed. "But you're three years older... I never thought..."

"It doesn't matter to me," Oliver said with certainty. "I love you, and age shouldn't be a barrier."

A/N: For the dabble in a drabble competition (prompt 'aiming high') and the Pairing Diversity Boot Camp Challenge (prompt 'whatever').

Also, this is my 50th story! :D *happy dance*

Disclaimer: JKR owns all.