Chapter One: Spearing Sausages

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in the Harry Potter universe. I do own the plot, however.

"WAKE UP, Bell!"

I groaned and turned over in my bed, my lovely soft wet bed. WET? I couldn't have peed… Could I've?

Opening one eye, I saw Oliver I'm-A-Crazy-Ass-Quidditch-Captain-Who's-Pissed-Off-With-Your-Lazy-Ass-In-Bed-Get-Out-And-Go-For-Training-NOW Wood standing beside my bed with a grinning George Weasley holding a bucket of ice-cold water.

I lost it. I let out a horrible shriek that would've shamed a hag. George, to all his credit, immediately yelled, dropped the bucket and ran off. Oliver, damn him, just stood there glowering.

"Bell, if you have stopped being a child, please get your butt (Oliver never said the word 'ass') down to the Pitch in 5 minutes. That's all." He walked off.

I growled. Apart from being covered with wet patches and in danger of catching a cold, I was in my-

"By the way, nice pyjamas, Bell."

I shrieked again.

"Why, oh why, did McGonagall give permission to the Quidditch Captains to enter the opposite gender's dorm?" I gritted my teeth as Oliver walked past.

Alicia and Angelina, who had heard everything from the Weasleys, just chuckled.

"Forget about it, Katie. He did that to us when we were sleeping in a couple of years ago. Only it was much worse." Alicia nonchalantly grabbed her toast back from George.

"How could it be worse? Were you two wearing bright red pyjamas with white cows on them?" I furiously speared a sausage.

"Ouch." Fred grimaced. I threw him a look.

"He told these two to empty frogs in cold water with ice on us," Angelina said, glancing pointedly at the two redheads.

"And then he asked us to run a few rounds round the Pitch."

"It helped us to warm up, but we got really exhausted after what, it must have been the fifth round."

"So he said to cancel the next ten, and we went to practice."

"Wow. I bow to him." I shook my head and speared another sausage, imagining it to be Oliver's FACE. I wasn't that dirty-minded to think of other parts of his anatomy. Nope, not innocent old me. Although it was good to see two identical twins wince.

I met with Leanne later on, and she graciously refrained from bringing up the topic. She did, however, go on and on about Oliver.

I kept quiet for the first few lessons, but when she rattled on and on during Transfiguration, which was my favourite lesson, I just glared at her and she shut up. Oh, the power of mine eye.

Not that I didn't like Oliver. I just didn't think he was worthy of any girl to fawn over.

"Hey! Let's play a game!" Fred jumped around the common room.

I rolled my eyes. We were supposed to discuss Quidditch tactics (except for Harry - he had some stuff to do) , and here that little imp was, jumping around like some mad frog around the room. I hoped he would end up hopping into the fire.

"Okay team, it's late, get to bed." Oliver started to get up, but Fred capered up to him and pushed him back down.

"No, no Captain dear. It's time to have some fun!" What had gotten into Fred? I raised my eyebrows to George, who rolled his eyes and yanked Fred's pants, so that the mad buffoon sat down hard.

"Ow. Okay here it goes. I'm gonna say a word, and the next person's going to say something that they associate with the word and so on. It must be truthful and it must be the first thing that he/she thinks of." Fred rubbed his buttock.

"Hot."

"Pink." This from Angelina.

"Yuck!" I hated pink.

"Fouls," said Oliver.

"Slytherin." Alicia played with her fingernails.

"Arses." George looked bored.

"Crazy."

"Oliver Wood."

"Obsessive tyrant."

"Me?"

A pause. Then, all of us in chorus, "Yes."

"Oh." He looked so downcast, so I tried to comfort him somehow. "Aw, don't worry dear Captain, I'm just having a bad day."

"What about when you have a good day? What am I then?"

"Erm, a crazy Quidditch Captain?" I said.

"I'm going to bed."

I, however, did not. I had an essay for Snape to finish.

I did sleep on the sofa though. I distinctly remember my essay being somewhere in the region of the armchairs…

"She looks so cute when she's asleep, doncha think?"

"Oh, yes my dear, yes!"

Two ridiculously high-pitched voices awoke me from my slumber.

"Oh my goodness…" I groaned as I fumbled with my crumpled robes.

"Here, your essay, dear Kitty-Kat." A hand pulled me up and thrust my papers into my hand. Fred? Or was it George?

I mumbled thanks and asked for the time.

"Let's see… It's between seven thirty-one and seven twenty-nine. Guess."

I went up to bathe and change, enduring Leanne's interrogation of my whereabouts. I suspect that she had thought I was in the arms of an unknown mysterious guy or some other romantic fantasy. Leanne was a great friend and all that, but she was a hopeless romantic, something that I often teased her about.

"Thank Merlin for weekends," I sighed, as I went down to breakfast with Leanne. My muscles still ached with the previous' day's practice, and I had had a terrible dream of Oliver as a mad frog hopping around, yelling for me to wake up.

"Ooh!" I turned to Leanne, exasperated.

Oliver Wood, in his impeccable black turtleneck and long brown pants, was striding towards me with the Practice Look. I immediately steered Leanne towards the breakfast table.

"Bell!"

I ignored him and grabbed some toast.

"Bell! I've booked the Pitch this afternoon so that we could practice those strategies we discussed last night. Practice's at four, be punctual." I glared at him, my mood turning sour. I love Quidditch, really, I do. I just think that there is a difference between loving something and being overly enthusiastic/obsessive about it.

Still holding the glare, I speared a sausage.

My dear mad frog Captain swallowed.

I gave him a feral grin.

End of Chapter One.