Summary: It all started because she was an insomniac. He was one too. It was their little tradition, talking to each other at 3 in the morning. Then, she falls for him…hard. KBOW.
After Midnight
Prologue
November 4, 1992.
Gryffindor Common Room, Past Midnight.
I, Katie Bell, am not special in many ways. For one, my name isn't special. Katie Bell isn't as nearly exciting as Falco Aesalon, although I'm not sure I would want my name to be Falco. Blame Professor McGonagall for teaching us about Animagi yesterday; the name was repeated so many times it's branded into my head.
I have a head of dark, wavy hair and dark eyes. I could name about a hundred people in the school who have dark hair and dark eyes, but there's only a few redheads. And nobody has pink hair with the exception of that Hufflepuff Jessica Albock, but that was a mistake. Something had gone wrong with her Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. I have suggested I would dye my hair blue one day, but I couldn't go through with it. Also, Leanne told me she would strangle me if I did it.
I have no special features that define me. I don't have any freckles like Ginny Weasley does. I don't have a lightning bolt scar like Harry Potter does. I don't have Leanne's pretty blue eyes. I don't have long, skinny, leggy legs like Angelina Johnson does. Alicia and I talk about her legs when she's not there. Don't give me that look, I'm far from gay.
I'm failing History of Magic because I write notes to Leanne way too often. But that's not anything special because everyone else is failing, too. I'm good at Potions, but Snape ignores me because I'm a Gryffindor. But that's not anything special, either. I'm on the Quidditch team as a Chaser, but Alicia and Angelina are Chasers with me, too.
I eat fast, but I've seen that weedy-looking bugger down the table finish three helpings before I finish my first. I might be the only one who likes kippers in my porridge, but Alicia told me that some Ravenclaw eats kippers and porridge, too.
I'm an insomniac. Hence me writing down in my book of self-pitying thoughts at two in the morning. Leanne says I'm just thirteen with raging hormones and that self-pity is not unusual. I trust her because she's way to wise and smart for a thirteen-year-old. Being an insomniac isn't special because there's one more person in the common room right now. My dear Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood. He's a sixth year. He's leaving soon…I wonder who'll be captain then. Angelina? Alicia? Harry? I'll root out Fred and George because they're not serious enough to dictate a whole Quidditch team. We'd be dive bombing in mud all the time instead of practicing.
Oliver's sitting at his table in the corner, hovering over his Quidditch pitch and his diagrams. I wonder if he ever does anything else other than Quidditch. Does he have friends? Siblings? Is he good at Potions or History of Magic? I just realized during this last year, I didn't even try to get to know my own Quidditch captain. All I know is that he's determined to win the Cup this year. Is that bad? Knowing someone for a year and not even bothering to really get to know them?
I admit he's cute in a scruffy, disheveled way. His permanently windswept, tangled brown hair and his wrinkled oxford. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows…messily, I might add. It's like he doesn't care. I don't think he does. He loosened his tie and threw it over his shoulder. He has soft, brown eyes, but they always have this crazy glint in them when he's talking about Quidditch.
He just looked up at me. I smiled at him. He smiled back. He just told me to get to bed, or I won't be playing that well at our practice at dawn. Seriously, Oliver? Merlin. He's a crazy wanker. But he does have a nice smile.
A/N: I know, I was supposed to write a Lily and James story, but I wanted to write a short little Katie/Oliver fic.