Oliver Wood.

Oliver bloody Wood.

He just has to be the world's biggest prat.

Why in Merlin's name is he MY boyfriend?

The snogging and shagging might have something to do with it. Mum would kill me if I said that to her…

Right. Wood.

I was perfectly happy in the five years I hadn't seen him after he graduated Hogwarts until I ran into him at the Puddlemere quidditch stadium last year. (It's sort of a story within its self, so I'll do my best to make it shorter.)

I had been working for QARS (Quidditch Association for Rules and Safely) at the time, and was so bloody depressed I spent a great deal of time staring at ground from the top of stadiums. He thought I was going to off myself right there and then, and then we got into one those rows like we used to get into at Hogwarts, with a lot of growling and last name calling.

So then some git on his team decided to pull out his wand during a match- not that mind you!- but the stick- oh merlin- that still sounds wrong, ANYWAYS I had to hang around there a bit more then I wanted to make sure the bloody team didn't do anything illegal again. So there was a lot more rowing with Wood, and me eventually resorting to melodramatics and telling him if he didn't leave me alone I would jump of the stadium for real.

I couldn't put up with him anymore (it wasn't just Wood's fault, there were a few other factors, but it was mostly his fault) and quit QARS, and by luck McGonagall owled me and asked if I want to help out Hooch with some Quidditch related things around Hogwarts.

I LOVED working at Hogwarts, but I finally had to see sense and turned in my resignation last month. McGonagall said she was sorry that I quit but offered her congrats. Bloody good that did me for rent…

"Sodding Hell!"

Mum's bloody owl thought it would wise to throw the muggle paper my head. I tried to throw it back at the stupid bit, but it had already flown away, scared of me. I still don't know my mum insists on sending the local muggle paper all the time. I LIVE IN WIZARDING WORLD.

Too make things worse Wood had just appeared smelling as if he didn't shower after practice.

"Hello, love," He muttered kissing me on the cheek.

I just glared him, "Hello. Did the showers break in the locker room?"

He rolled his eyes, "Were having one of those days…"

"One of what days?!" If I didn't jump into his arms when he appeared he got all huffy, and then would proceed to blame this one me being a woman. It had nothing to do with that… it was probably just the hormones, which was a woman type of problem, but he didn't know that so he shouldn't have been in my face about it.

"Right," He muttered flopping down on my couch, much to my disgust, as he hadn't showered, picking up the paper that I hadn't been able to hit at the bloody owl. What good where my chaser talents when I couldn't use them to get revenge on owls that hated me? I can only hope Hermione Granger never gets a chance to read my mind; she'd probably murder me.

He only stared at the paper before throwing it across the room. I was afraid he would break in a room trashing the likes of even an angry Harry Potter hadn't seen before. (I was possibly more scared when Potter was coach after his violent room trashing tenancies had become known). Oliver had been known for punching walls. I'm beginning to think this type of behavior was common among brilliant quidditch players. We can only hope that Oliver Wood Jr. doesn't inherit that… Oliver Wood Jr? He's going to hate me for that one…

"Alright, Oliver?" I hadn't moved from the spot where I had thrown the paper at the owl, and I could have sworn that Oliver looked about to cry.

"I got a suspension, because of you!" He growled.

"I…." I wanted shout at him, but I really didn't have any bloody idea what he was talking about. I hadn't been near the Puddlemere Stadium in almost a year. I was afraid of Delvish, his coach, even Angelina Johnson, and especially Oliver in quidditch mood.

"Because I can't stop thinking about you and why you're acting so… mental!" I was going to make a comment about that bit but he stood up and stared me straight in the eyes. "I can't help there's something your not telling me. What's going on?"

"I…"

"I mean I asked you to come to that game against the Harpies last week. You still haven't told me the real reason you didn't come to that!"

The a bit of the truth slipped out, "The healer wouldn't change the bloody day!"

Great. Nice way to lead that one in.

He looked at me as if I'm dying. "Healer?!"

I ignored that, "She told me that quidditch was horrid. I tried to explain that it was my boyfriend's game and…"

"Katie. Healer?" He repeated this time with force. "Why where you seeing a healer?"

There was a knock at my door. Bloody saved by the bell.

"I have to get that," I muttered and he growled something I couldn't understand. I was prepared to give whoever it was that was on the other side of the door my best smile, but it was my fucking landlord, the one who hated my guts. I never had taken him seriously because he was bit on the short side.

"Bell!"

"Hello. Mr.…"

He cut me off pushing his way into my apartment, "You have tonight to clear…."

I tried to distract him, which probably where it went sour because there are only so many times you can distract your landlord before he figures out your game. "Have you met my boyfriend, Oliver…."

"Don't care! He can help you move your stuff out."

"Mr…."

"Tonight! Be out by tomorrow or I'll call the Ministry, who will put you Azkaban where all the other freeloaders belong!" He sent me a glare that froze me in spot, before slamming the door on his way out.

I don't know what I said after that but it probably sounded something a bit like, "Ah!! I've been evicted!"

"What was that about?!"

Great. I had given Oliver even more fuel to question me about.

"He finally realized I haven't played by bills for a couple of months. I mean I was always behind, but then I kind of just stopped… and well I figured he'd kick me out, but I never actually thought about it…" I hoped that if I kept blabbing everything would be better, you know? Oliver would stop asking me what was wrong. However, lately when I start blabbing, I start crying, and I can't stop myself.

At least for a few seconds he stopped grilling me. Eventually he held me, I don't really remember. I had forgot that he still smelled of sweat and quidditch, I actually didn't mind. I couldn't remember why I kept calling him a compete prat in my spare time- which I had too much of. While I was in his arms I couldn't help but think of our first kiss, up on the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium, after a game.

He had been there scouting for Puddlemere a couple months after the QARS disaster. I was staring over the side of stadium not because I was thinking about jumping, but because I was trying to figure out who the students snogging on the pitch where. I was pretty sure they had been the rival captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Oliver had pulled me away from the edge again, and I had barely any time to explain what I was doing before he started snogging me right there. I had wanted him to do it since I was crazy fourteen year old with a crush, and it was even better then I had imaged.

So was everything that followed that night. I never did find out who it was that was snogging.

I had stopped crying at some point because Oliver pulled me off him, and asked me, looking so upset I couldn't stand it, "Katie. What is going on?"

I wanted to cry again. I didn't even try to distract him with some stupid story about my sister's football career. I muttered something along the lines of, "Fine."

"Well?"

I thought about it for a moment, trying to find the right words, but my brain didn't let me finish.

"I was forced to quit my bloody job, because I believe there is something about not flying on brooms when you're pregnant and now I'm homeless!"

He didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He barely even acknowledged it. Then he disappeared.

I remembered then why I thought he was a prat, and went off to find some parchment so I could tell my mum I was coming back home. I had no idea how I was supposed to explain any of this to her.

But first I cried so hard I still can't believe my face isn't still red.

the rest of the story will be in multiple pov