A/N: I wrote this a while back and forgot to post it … lmao. So, here it is. Back to good old OliverKatie. Seems a lot of people have forgotten about them, sadly. Well, I haven't:D x

Maintaining Conscious Thought

"Don't yell at me, Wood!!"

"Get off this pitch now!! If you don't, I'm getting McGonagall-!"

"Get her for all I care!!"

"Stop fighting with me Bell! It won't be good for your report if I tell McGonagall-!"

"She doesn't scare me!!"

"I've seen your mum mad, Bell. I'm sure she won't be too happy-!"

"I'm sure she'll understand how much of a prick you're being!!"

"Get off this pitch, Bell!!! You're the one who's being totally unreasonable about all of this, now off-!!"

"Get to hell, Wood! I'm not moving! I've done nothing wrong!!" My voice broke. I almost cried. But I kept up my defiant stature against Oliver in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, our friends all around us.

"You're yelling at me for telling you to do something differently!! You're defying me; the captain of this bloody team-!" He looked furious. I stood my ground, glaring up at him with the fiercest eyes.

"I've done nothing wrong." My voice was hollow, but steady. I tried as hard as I could not to cry. But my hardest just wasn't good enough. A single angry tear fell, and I ran out of the pitch.

I skidded into the changing rooms, furiously wiping my eyes free of tears. I was angry at myself for showing weakness.

Oliver Wood. Utter idiot. Totally obsessive and hurtful. No understanding for the need humans have for sleep. Has an anger problem. Completely closed off, and gives nothing away to anyone – not even his closest friends. And I hate him.

I kicked a bench, heading for my locker at the end of the team room, close to the showers. My Quidditch robes were splattered with mud from the hour and a half training time I'd attended. I shrugged them off, leaving my clothes I wore for training on.

I slammed my fist into my locker, and it opened. I grabbed my bag from it, and sat on the bench, pulling out a roll of parchment and a quill. I scribbled a note to Oliver.

Wood,

This letter is to inform you that I am handing in my resignation to the Gryffindor House Quidditch Team.

My reason? You.

Bell.

I decided to explain to the others too. I pulled out another roll of parchment.

Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George and Harry,

This letter is to explain why I had to hand in my resignation to the team.

First and foremost, I'm sorry for leaving in the middle of the season. I'm sure you'll find a good replacement, that will be much better than me at following Wood's instructions and not take offence to him yelling at them non stop for hours on end.

Secondly, I have to say I didn't want to leave the team – Wood gave me no choice, and I can't take the stresses anymore. I wish I had the willpower, but I just can't do it.

And thirdly, I hate him. Give him a good battering from me, twins.

I'm sorry.

Katie x

I stood and placed the letters on the bench, side by side, the first addressed to Oliver, the second addressed to the others.

I picked up my bag and robes, and headed out of the door towards the castle. As soon as I reached outside, I collapsed against the wall and slid down it, my eyes welling up with tears once more. I drew my knees up to my chest and put my forehead on them, sobbing quietly, dropping my bag.

I really didn't want to leave the team.

And I wouldn't have if Oliver hadn't been so … so … Oliver. I really can't stand the boy anymore.

I heard a door bang open, and voices.

"D'you think Katie went back up to the castle?" George's voice asked.

"Probably. She looked pretty mad – what are they?" Angelina's voice said. I presumed they had found the letters.

"One is addressed to us. Open it, Fred." Alicia's voice verified my presumption.

There was a pause, the Fred said, "She's resigned," in a hollow voice. "Oliver!! Get your idiotic ass in here!!"

"What?" Oliver's voice snapped. There was a rustling of paper. "She can't … she can't! Is she still here?"

"No. She isn't in the showers," Alicia answered.

"This is you're fault, Oliver. We'll end up losing the Cup again!" Angelina shouted angrily.

"Calm down. She can't do this. I'm sure of it …"

"You'd better be darned sure, Oliver, or I might have to do something rash." Angelina was getting angrier by the second.

"Don't threaten me, Angelina, or I may have to be two Chasers short."

"Don't fight with Ange too, Oliver! That's already lost you one Chaser tonight. We can't afford to lose another," George said.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked, speaking for the first time.

"Get Kates back … or … or find another Chaser," Oliver said so quietly, I had to strain to hear him.

Silently, I got up from my position on the ground, and made my way back up to the castle, strangely happy with the fact that I made Oliver Wood nervous, and unhappy.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

I sat in the library, three days after leaving the team. I found that I had much more time now, and I could do my homework properly, rather than the usual rushed job I did at it. I was enjoying my extra time. I was missing the team terribly though. I hadn't spoken to them since, and I don't think I can. I feel too guilty, leaving them with two games left in the season, and only two Chasers. I have no doubt Wood will find a replacement, but it takes time to find one, and then they won't be properly trained for the next game. And the next game was against Ravenclaw – They were a smart bunch, on and off the pitch.

I scribbled some warbled words on my History of Magic essay.

It wasn't like I didn't love Quidditch. I really did. In fact, it was my only outlet from schoolwork. I just couldn't take Oliver yelling at me anymore … I hate people yelling at me. Especially when … well … when Oliver yells at you, it's completely different. He makes everything seem so heartfelt, and it somehow hurts more.

I scribbled some more words.

Everything's always worse when Oliver's involved.

I slammed the History of Magic book shut in front of me, earning a fierce glare from Madame Pince. Hurriedly, I collected my things and rushed out of the library, in fear of being stared down by the librarian.

I sighed and hitched my bag further up my shoulder, closing the library door quietly behind me.

The team were practicing just now at the pitch. They hadn't found a replacement for me yet, but carried on practicing anyway. That was Oliver though; nothing could stop him when Quidditch was concerned.

I sighed again, heading down a staircase to the third floor.

I realised, all too late, that I had no friends without Quidditch. The team are all older than me, bar Harry who is a year younger. I don't see them much now … they might be avoiding me of course … but I thought they might understand … I knew Oliver wouldn't.

I was so sick of Oliver.

He made me so angry … so frighteningly angry, sometimes I just couldn't control it. I just wanted to yell and shout until he finally shut up, for once in his stupid little life. It made me so mad that he had no idea about anything other than a stupid, pointless game.

And he also makes me think. Which hurts my head.

Oliver headaches. Gah.

I rubbed my temples, and continued walking up the staircase for the fourth floor.

None of my friends had even tried talking to me, which worried me, because, of course, they would be angry at me if they really were avoiding me, and that also therefore meant that I had absolutely no friends what-so-ever.

I stopped on the fifth floor and leant against a wall close to the Transfiguration classroom.

I had no friends.

I almost cried. Really hard. It was pretty heartbreaking, and I could do nothing about it. Well, I could … I could make more friends … but I want my old friends back …

I suddenly missed them a hell of a lot.

I must have looked so pathetic leaning on that wall, close to tears, lamenting about lost friends. I hate feeling like I'm lost, but that's exactly how I felt. I felt lost without Quidditch, and that makes me sick to the stomach with myself. I've let a sport rule my life for two years. That's just a little sad.

I stood up straight, and ran up the remaining two sets of staircases, and along the corridor to the Fat Lady. I muttered the password, and climbed inside, entering the Gryffindor common room.

I glanced around the warm, homely room. To the armchairs by the fire, to the tables and chairs at the back. No one I knew seemed to be there. I headed up the girls dormitory stairs. As I reached my dorm, I saw that the door was slightly open. I pushed it open wide, and saw Oliver sitting on my bed, talking to Alicia and Angelina, who were sitting on the floor. None of them looked around, and I stepped inside.

"What are you guys doing in my room?" I said loudly, making them look up from their quiet conversation.

"Hullo, Katie," Angelina said, and they carried on talking to each other. I raised my eyebrows at them – not that they noticed. I put my hands on my hips, and cleared my throat. They looked up again.

"What?" Alicia asked.

"What are you three doing in my room?" I demanded, glaring at them all.

"We're talking," Angelina answered impatiently.

"In my dorm room?"

"Obviously," Alicia snapped, then turned back to Oliver and Angelina, who were again, in conversation.

"What the fuck is going on?!" I yelled. They all turned to me, mouths slightly open.

"We're talking," Angelina repeated.

"Why are you in here, talking?!"

"Because we need to talk to you Kates … well, I need to talk to you," Oliver said quietly, speaking for the first time. "So, girls, can I talk to Katie now?"

Angelina nodded, and both she and Alicia got up. "Remember what we said, Ol'."

Oliver nodded, and the door shut behind the girls. I stared at him, and he stared at the wall to the left of me. His eyes flickered to me, and he rose from my bed, and made his way to my position in the middle of the room. He stood a few feet away from me.

"Can I talk to you, Kates?" he asked softly, eyes searching mine.

My eyes closed for a second, then I nodded. I walked over to my bed, and he followed, sitting beside me on the four-poster.

"I'm so sorry." He said this simply, and I was sure it was with sincerity. "I don't want you to be off the team, Kates. I feel like I've let you down. In fact, I know I have. You don't deserve to be shouted at during every practice. I want you back."

"What if I don't want to go back?" I said quietly, looking at my fingers on my lap.

"Kates, please come back. We need you. Your team misses you."

"Are you included in that?" I said as I looked straight into his eyes.

He watched me for a second, then nodded. "Of course I am. I miss you, Kates. I miss you a lot."

I shook my head, and looked away. "You miss me because you only have two Chasers, Wood."

"No, Kates." His voice sounded desperate. I turned to him once again. His eyes were soft, and they were looking pleadingly at me.

"It's true, Wood. You only miss me because I'm part of your team."

He shook his head again.

"What, then? Please enlighten me, Captain." He visibly winced at the severity of my voice.

"Kates …" He tried to find the right words. Evidently, he didn't find them. He looked at me with sad eyes.

"I love Quidditch, Wood, I really do. But you've ruined that for me, and I hate you for that. I wish you were different. I wish you cared if you overworked your team. I wish you saw the disappointment in our eyes every time we let you down. I wish you would see us for the people we are, rather than the players we are … the player I was. But you can't, Wood, and I hate you for it."

I couldn't bear to look at him. My eyes were tearing up as it was, without seeing his face, most likely shocked from what I had voiced.

"Kates, I'm sorry. I'd never want to hurt you…"

"You already have, Wood," I said quietly.

This whole scene was overly dramatic. It was getting ridiculous. And then Oliver made it worse.

He placed his hands on my neck, and he kissed me soundly on the lips. I pulled away, and stared at him incredulously.

"I miss you, Kathryn. I miss you, not just any Chaser." And with that, he gave me a panicked glance and rushed out of the room.

&&&&&&&&&&&&