Fame did not come naturally to Oliver Wood.
Quidditch was his passion and always had been. It was his life, his drive, and (as far as he was presently concerned) his purpose in life. He loved flying, he loved playing, and he loved feeling as though nothing in the world could break his focus or bring him down to the ground.
What he did not love were reporters.
"Just be yourself!" one of his teammates would inevitably advise him. In response to this, Armand Hallfield, captain of Puddlemere United, would scoff and shake his head, indicating that Oliver should, in fact, be anyone but himself at press time.
At this moment, Oliver was the last in the sky after a long and hellish match against the Hollyhead Harpies. Puddlemere had won the game by a hair, but the Harpies had been tough opponents, and Oliver was exhausted. The last thing he was prepared to face was the tangle of reporters who had already ensnared his teammates.
The roaring of the crowd was dying down now that they victors had taken their customary lap around the stadium, and witches and wizards were flocking to the middle of the field, quills and parchment in hand.
"Oliver Wood!" a middle aged balding man cried out, rushing towards his broom with a QuickNotes Quill trailing after him. "How does it feel to be named Witch Weekly's eligible bachelor of the year?"
Oliver fought hard against the urge to roll his eyes. It annoyed him when they skipped past asking about the game completely.
"Mister Wood!" piped up a young-ish, and not unattractive, blonde witch. She was small, but she had pushed past the others in a futile attempt to grab his attention. "What is your response to the rumors that you are dating Tornado's seeker Genevieve Greene?"
At this, Oliver could no longer resist an eye roll. By this time, he had reached the ground, and someone had handed him a towel. He wiped his face in a strategic effort to hide his annoyance.
Oliver wanted to throw down his towel and growl at them that he didn't give a damn about Witch Weekly or what they thought of him, and that the idea of dating Gen Greene was hysterical, as he had just had dinner at her house the other night and got along swimmingly with her girlfriend Astrid. However, seeing as how Witch Weekly's readership consisted of a great portion of his fans, as well as the fact that Gen had expressed to those close to her that she was not yet ready to divulge the nature of her relationship to the public, this is not what he did.
What he did do was take a deep breath, plaster on a tight smile, and reply calmly. "I appreciate the support that Witch Weekly has always given me. Their kind words are very flattering. As for Ms. Greene, I consider her a good friend and nothing more."
After enduring another round of questions, Oliver was able to escape to the sanctuary that was the Puddlemere United locker room. He practically hurled himself through the door and didn't slow down until he reached the showers.
"Nice catch there at the end, Wood."
Oliver nodded in response to the compliment, which came from one of Puddlemere's beaters, Andrew Grove. "You were relentless out there," Oliver complimented his teammate in return. Andrew grinned. Oliver rarely issued compliments, and they were never undeserved.
"Wood!" another teammate called out from around a corner. Oliver knew it to be Karliah George, their seeker. "You coming for drinks tonight? Armand is buying!" This earned a signature snort from Armand, who had made no such agreement.
Oliver, for the first time since returning to the earth, smiled. "I would," he answered honestly, "but I have a wedding to attend tonight."
"Who's getting hitched?" Andrew asked, interested. Oliver's teammates were of the nearly accurate assumption that his social circle did not extend past themselves.
"Some of my old Gryffindor teammates," Oliver explained. "Haven't seen them in a while, but I promised I'd be there." The last time he had seen George and Angelina had been when he had attended Fred Weasley's funeral. It had been a solemn affair, but George had chosen that occasion to announce his engagement, declaring, rightfully, that it's what Fred would have wanted. That had been two years ago, and the pair was finally tying the knot.
Showering quickly, Oliver apparated home long enough only to change again and run a comb through his hair. The match had run long, and he was nearly running late by the time he found himself at the Burrow, a place he had only been to a few times in the past, but that always instilled in him the strangest feeling of coming home.
The first to notice him was Charlie Weasley.
"Wood!" Charlie called out, waving him over and thrusting a drink into his hand, which Oliver was more than happy to accept. "Glad you could make it!"
Oliver smiled. Charlie was the first Weasley he had ever met. He had been his captain during the first year he played quidditch, and as such had been his hero for some time after that. Oliver's opposite, Charlie was loud and always ready for a good time, and Oliver had remained fond of him throughout the years.
"Drink up," Charlie advised. "Mum says we have to take our seats soon."
Oliver did as he was told, downing whatever strong drink Charlie had presented him with without question. There was meaningless chatter for a few moments, and then an announcement was made that the ceremony would begin shortly.
Oliver decided that it was a lovely ceremony, if one were into that sort of thing, which he wasn't. Still, George and Angelina were clearly very deeply in love, and for the briefest moment he felt a small pang of jealousy. It was something he had been noticing lately, and though rare, the feeling was nearly overwhelming for the briefest of instances. These moments were easy for Oliver to brush aside, however. Quidditch kept him busy, and any time he attempted to maintain a relationship, it always seemed to get in the way of his career. These relationships always ended before they ever truly began.
Before Oliver knew it (he found his thoughts difficult to keep track of, and his mind wandered throughout the ceremony), George and Angelina were kissing, and the reception began.
Oliver stood and wandered slowly towards the end of a growing line of people waiting to congratulate the newlyweds. His thoughts still wandering, he almost didn't see her until she was right in front of him.
"Ollie!" she exclaimed, and Oliver cringed. He opened his mouth to express his displeasure with the unfortunately fitting nickname, but when he laid eyes on the girl in front of him, his mouth stayed open wordlessly.
Katie took advantage of Oliver's silence to throw her arms around him. When he did not reciprocate her hug, she took a step back and cleared her throat uncomfortably.
Oliver eyed the girl in front of him in shock. He recognized her voice, and the untameable mountain of strawberry curls in front of him could only belong to one person, but he still had trouble connecting the tiny tomboy he had known so long ago with the woman who now stood before him.
A brief but uncomfortable silence passed between them, and only after Katie cleared her throat again did Oliver realize that it was his turn to speak.
"Bell?" he stammered, surprise written on his face. "Katie," he corrected when she cocked her head at him, realizing that he was no longer her quidditch captain, rendering his use of her last name unnecessary. "I didn't even recognize you," he admitted lamely. "Come here."
He opened his arms, inviting her in for a hug. He had never particularly enjoyed hugs, but he felt guilty at ruining her original attempt, and he had to admit to himself that Katie had certainly never been his least favorite person to receive hugs from.
Katie grinned and hugged Oliver again. "I can't believe how long it's been!" she squealed. "I can't believe Ange and George are married, and you're playing for Puddlemere!"
Oliver smiled. He had always been extremely fond of Katie. During his time at Hogwarts, she was like a younger sister to him, though he would never have admitted to something so sentimental. Seeing her excitement brought back memories that he hadn't even realized he'd been missing.
"How about you?" Oliver asked, suddenly realizing that he had heard very little about her life since he'd last seen her. "What have you been up to?"
Katie didn't answer the question. "I'll get us some drinks," she bubbled, "and we'll catch up. I'll be right back!"
Katie bounded off, and Oliver turned around just in time to see that it was nearly his turn to speak to the happy couple. As the old woman in front of his hobbled off (not before informing Angelina with a wagging finger that she "had better not be pregnant"), Oliver stepped towards them and made to congratulate them, but he was interrupted immediately.
"Did you see the way she was smiling?" Angelina gushed to George, grinning wildly. George nodded enthusiastically.
"It's good to see her like this," he agreed. Noting the look of confusion on the face of Oliver, who thought they were speaking of the bitter old woman who had preceded him in line, George filled him in. "We haven't seen Katie this happy in ages," he explained.
"What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly worried. "Why not?"
George was about to respond when Katie returned, a glass of sparkling pumpkin juice in each hand. She offered one to Oliver before turning to Angelina and returning to her previous squealing.
"I am so happy for you two!" she half-shouted, perhaps having already had a drink before she had found Oliver. She threw her arms around both George and Angelina, squeezing them. "I love you both so much, and you absolutely deserve all the happiness in the world!"
Angelina smiled and, as Katie pulled back from their hug, squeezed her hand. "We've missed you around the shop," she told Katie. "We're so glad that you're here. Are you having a good time?"
"Oh, it was a lovely ceremony," Katie gushed. "And you look absolutely radiant! And I just ran into Oliver here," she added. "Of course I'm having a good time!"
Someone behind Katie cleared their throat, and Katie and Oliver excused themselves to avoid monopolizing their hosts. They claimed a small table at the back of the large tent that had been erected for the reception. Oliver noticed that Katie ingested nearly half of her drink before they had reached their seats and, shrugging internally, followed suit.
It's not like I'm going to get pissed off sparkling pumpkin juice, he reasoned with himself. And it's a party, for Merlin's sake!
"So what does Katie Bell do for a living?" Oliver asked with interest. Though he chose his friends with a great deal of caution, he cared deeply for those he had, and he was chastising himself internally for losing track of someone so close to his heart.
Katie laughed, and the sound reminded Oliver of the enchanted wind chimes that his mother always kept hanging outside the front door of his childhood home. "Very little of interest, I'm afraid," she responded, and though she forced an air of humor into the statement, Oliver felt uneasy about it. "I used to work at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, but the past few months I've been working as a housekeeper at The Three Broomsticks."
Something Angelina had said a few moments earlier struck a chord with Oliver. "We've missed you around the shop," she had said. He found it strange that she would leave a job working with her best friends (and he felt certain that George was a generous employer) for a housekeeping position. He opened his mouth to ask, perhaps a little boldly, why she had quit, but she beat him to the next topic.
"I go to your games sometimes," she admitted, blushing slightly. "As often as I can afford, actually."
"Why don't you ever stop to say hi?" he asked, unnerved by the fact that at any given time she might have been in the stands, watching him and then simply disappearing into the crowd.
"I never thought to," she said, her words dripping with dishonesty. As if punctuating her statement, Katie downed the rest of her drink in one gulp. Suddenly she grinned and turned a reckless gaze on Oliver, challenging him. Following her lead, Oliver finished the remainder of his drink as quickly as she had hers. She flashed him another smile and hurried off to fetch two more drinks.
What the hell is going on?" Oliver asked himself, shocked at the rapid change in Katie's demeanor. Bubbly and excited just a few moments ago, a perfect reminder of her childhood self, she had suddenly affected an air of aloof recklessness, similar to but somehow entirely unlike the daring adventuress he remembered.
Brushing off this unnerving question, if only because he had no answer for it, he attributed her strange behaviour to the jitters one experiences when attending a friend's wedding. Had he not himself felt the assumption looming in the air that, now that members of their group of friends had married, the rest would follow suit at any time? It gave him a feeling of impending doom, though he wasn't sure why, and he decided that Katie must be feeling it as well.
When she returned, Katie had two glasses, one per hand, and Oliver knew even before she reached him that they did not contain sparkling pumpkin juice. His assumption proved to be correct when she slid the glass of Firewhiskey across the table to him.
"Charlie owes me a favor," she told him with a mischievous wink, "Drink up."
Oliver did.
The rest of the night passed increasingly quickly with each drink he finished off. He remembered dancing with various women, but he always returned to Katie for a dance, another drink, or another increasingly slurred bout of conversation. He had the distinct impression, though not the memory to back it up, that George and Charlie had eagerly assisted both Katie and himself in becoming intoxicated.
When he awoke the next morning, the first sensation Oliver felt was that of the entire world suddenly blinking into existence and then back out again. This happened several more times before the world decided that it was, in fact, going to exist, and Oliver was finally able to open his eyes and begin the great journey of sitting up.
Memories trickled into his head slowly, but there was a very clear and defined point in the night after which he had no memories at all. He believed it to be the work of a Weasley. At this thought, he turned his head cautiously to the side, checking his bed for a guest.
Seeing no one, Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. This feeling, however, was short-lived, as consciousness finally began to turn on the necessary functions of his brain, and he finally noticed the sound of a shower running. His shower, to be more specific.
Lifting his comforter to check himself for clothing (and finding none), Oliver forcibly rolled himself out of his bed and in the general direction of his wardrobe. Suddenly noting the absence of the sound of running water, he hurriedly grabbed what he considered to be the bare minimum - a pair of boxer shorts - and dived back under his covers, hoping to pretend he was still asleep until he thought of something decent to say to the person that he knew was inevitably going to walk through the door.
Whether Katie knew Oliver was feigning sleep or just failed to care, the moment she entered the room he felt something being tossed onto his chest.
"Do this a lot, do you?"
Looking down at the foreign object, Oliver found it to be a hangover potion. As he uncapped the vial and swallowed its contents eagerly, Katie laughed. "Your potions cabinet was depressingly bare, but I found an abundance of these buggars."
There was a brief pause before Oliver finally dared to look up at Katie. She was standing near the foot of his bed, clad only in one of his towels. She smiled cheerily at him.
"Listen, I know it's a little silly at this point, but would you mind closing your eyes while I change?" she asked, and he followed her request. As she changed, she hummed a song that Oliver could almost, but not quite, remember having heard the night before.
"All finished," Katie said brightly after a moment. Oliver opened his eyes, and there she was again, standing before him once more. Now wearing the yellow dress she had sported the previous night, he noticed yet again how beautiful she had become since their time at Hogwarts, despite the fact that her wet curls now hung limply on her shoulders and her face was now sans cosmetics.
Then again, Oliver reminded himself, perhaps she had always been beautiful. Perhaps she had simply been too young for him to notice at the time.
"You're staring," Katie informed Oliver, who blinked at the realization.
"S-sorry," he stammered, and Kate shrugged, a bland smile on her face. Oliver's cheeks heated up, remembering again that they must have spent the night together. Still, Katie smiled, and Oliver forced himself to decide that if she wasn't ashamed, then neither would he be.
Unsure of what to say next, Oliver cleared his throat. "Want to get some breakfast?" he asked finally. Katie thought for a moment.
"Why?" she asked, and the question took Oliver by surprise.
"What do you mean, 'why'?" he asked stupidly.
"I mean, do you want to take me to breakfast, or do you feel like you're supposed to take me to breakfast?" she explained patiently, presenting Oliver with an unreadable facial expression.
She was challenging him, and he knew it. Frustration bubbled in him, but intrigue did as well. He wanted to answer correctly but, failing to see what the correct answer should be, he answered truthfully. "You're my mate, and I want to have breakfast with you."
Grinning once more, Katie nodded. "Alright then," she said. "Let me go dry my hair."
Oliver's flat was not far from Diagon Alley, and they opted to walk into town and have breakfast at Meriwether's, a small and often unnoticed cafe wedged in between some of the large shops.
Once they were seated, both with cups of tea in front of them, Oliver was suddenly at a loss for words. He had, of course, had one-night stands before, but they had never been with girls that he had any emotional attachment to, and they had certainly never been followed by breakfast.
"About last night," he began finally, and Katie rolled her eyes playfully. He paused. "What?"
She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Nothing, nothing," she giggled. "About last night?"
"I just thought perhaps we should discuss-" Oliver began again, feeling rather silly now. Katie let another giggle escape, and Oliver's speech was derailed again.
"I'm just trying to be a gentleman," he huffed.
Katie reached out and touched his hand. "And it's very sweet of you," she said gently. Then the humor returned to her eyes. "But there's nothing to worry about, Ollie." he cringed at the nickname again but allowed her to continue without interruption. "We're mates, like you said. Last night was a bit of fun, that's all." She grinned slyly at him at the last part, giving him the distinct impression that she remembered something about their "fun" that he was unable to recall. He suddenly regretted his previous night's intoxication even more than before.
"Just a bit of fun?" Oliver repeated cautiously. "And that's alright with you?"
Katie laughed fully this time. "Merlin, Oliver, I'm not expecting you to marry me," she joked. "You may be famous, but I think you're giving yourself a bit too much credit."
Oliver laughed, relaxing. If Katie could take their night together in stride, so could he.
Suddenly feeling as though he had never been so hungry in all his life, Oliver realized that he had probably skipped dinner the previous night, likely opting for more firewhiskey instead. He ordered a large breakfast, which Katie made multiple attempts to commandeer, despite having ordered three scones for herself. Their morning together passed pleasantly, and for the first time in quite some time, Oliver felt at ease with himself in a setting that was completely unrelated to quidditch.
AN: Hello, lovely readers! To be honest, I don't really know what this story is. It's another lovechild of sleep deprivation and my current lack of a creative outlet. I think that this will turn into a multi-chapter story, but in case it doesn't, I tried to give it enough of an "ending" to make it worth reading as a one-shot. Please check out some of my other stories if you get a chance, and the community that I just created! Reviews absolutely make my day (seriously, you don't understand how excited I get for every single review)!