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
Chapter One
November 9, 1992
Gryffindor Common Room, Dawn.
I'm a half-blood. My mum is a Muggle, and my dad is a wizard. In ways, this is a blessing; I'm familiar with both worlds, the Muggle world and the wizarding world. While Leanne confusedly asks what a "feletone" is, I already knew how to pick up the phone and dial a number since I was five.
I live in a Muggle suburban neighborhood. According to my mum's nostalgic anecdotes, my dad used to fetch the post in a tent dress and balaclava, earning stares from the various neighbors. Now, my dad has learned to dress better with the help from my mum. Our home seems like a normal Muggle household from its various forms of Muggle technology, ranging from a television set to the telephone. However, my dad took to enchanting ordinary Muggle things in our home. Before my mum invited friends over, she had to cover the talking mirrors and hide the trash bin that gobbles up whatever you put in it.
While being a half-blood has its perks, I recently realized there is a downside--the monster inside the Chamber of Secrets. Colin Creevey was found Petrified; he was a Muggle-born. Angelina Johnson told me I had nothing to worry about, considering I'm a half-blood. However, Leanne thought otherwise and bought two amulets from a fifth year, wasting away all her pocket money. It was silly she bought them for many reasons. One: they don't work. Two: she's a pureblood and had nothing to worry about. Considering my blood isn't pure, am I a potential victim of this monster?
Oliver doesn't think I am in danger. He thinks the amulet is silly. Yes, I'm talking about Oliver Wood. The Oliver Wood, whom I wrote about earlier, the Quidditch captain who remained an enigma to me. He talked to me. It was rather odd, actually. I was sitting in the common room around one in the morning; I crept down from the dormitory because I found that lying on my bed listening to Leanne snore was rather boring. I spotted him in the corner of the room, situated at his usual table, pouring over his diagrams and the same model of the Quidditch pitch.
He was wearing his pajamas, instead of his school uniform. He managed to achieve his signature scruffy, disheveled look from his dingy, cream pajama pants stitched with Quaffles to the blue Puddlemere United jumper he haphazardly threw over his pajamas. He glanced up at me as my bare feet slapped loudly across the marble. He quirked up an arching eyebrow in a smooth, elegant movement. My hormones were reacting badly to him; my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest any moment.
He jerked me out of my reverie. He looked quite amused, a smile on his face. He informed me he had been asking me the same question for a while. My face burned up; luckily, the common room was dark enough to hide my blotchy, red face because the fire was dying in the hearth. I tried to pass off the embarrassment by nonchalantly asking him to repeat the question. He had asked me if I ever slept. I laughed and told him I was an insomniac. I countered by asking him the same question. He grinned at me. He really does have a cute smile.
He told me he was one, too. It was awkward at first. He began asking me if I understood the Porskoff Ploy he was talking about during the practice yesterday. I honestly was too tired to listen to Oliver go on and on about his diagrams. Instead, I nodded as he began talking passionately about Quidditch. The same, manic glint returned in his brown eyes, and his face lit up considerably. I knew he was passionate about Quidditch more than anything else; I could tell. Suddenly, I asked him if all he ever thought about was Quidditch. It surprised me because the words slipped out of my mouth. I began blabbering and trying to apologize, but to my surprise, Oliver cut through my apologies with his raucous, loud laughter. He threw his head back and laughed.
After his laughter died away, he explained to me that Fred and George asked him that all the time. "Truthfully," he said, "I love Quidditch. It has to do with that exhilaration rushing through you when you fly through the air. The thrill of a victory. The wind blowing through your hair. Do you get what I mean?"
I got it alright. It surprised me that Oliver Wood could explain something with such eloquence. Before, I thought he acted as rugged and brusque as he looked. After the night ticked away, I found myself giggling uncontrollably. Oliver was laughing, too, with his singed eyebrows, his head bent over the Exploding Snap cards spread out over his diagrams.
People never fail to surprise me.
Oliver Wood was one of them because he was everything I hadn't expected.
I had just tracked down that fifth year who was selling the amulets and demanded my money back with the threat of McGonagall and a lethal Bat-Bogey Hex. He handed me back the Galleons grudgingly and glared at me with such malice that I ran away to the common room to find Leanne as soon as possible.
I put the Galleons in her hand as soon as I spotted her in her armchair. She looked at me with a confused look on her face. I decided Oliver was right. Now I can't think of anything bad about being a half-blood.
December 21, 1992.
Hogwarts Express, Somewhere Between Hogwarts and King's Cross.
I never looked forward to Christmas when I was younger. I was a specific girl; I wrote down a long list in my messy, childish handwriting. I flipped through Muggle catalogs that came in the post and contemplated on every single item before finally circling something after grueling hours of reasoning and thought. I was careful about the choices on my list. I didn't want something on the list that I would regret after a few weeks. After compiling the perfect list, I pinned it up on the refrigerator with a large, gaudy magnet my mum insisted on tossing away. My dad liked the clashing colors of purple and neon green. I took careful consideration of where to place the list and which magnet to use to attract maximum attention, while I frowned at my brothers' flippancy. They tacked their lists carelessly on the side of the refrigerator with tiny, discreet magnets.
My toes curled at the thought of Christmas morning and the piles of presents to be opened. My mum and dad tended to indulge me with presents, considering I was the youngest of three, the only girl of the batch. I ran down to the staircase to the sitting room, placing myself between my two brothers, staring greedily down at the glossy wrapping paper covering the stretch of presents underneath the glittering tree. My dad had conjured up fairy lights (with real fairies, instead of the Muggle ones). I was allowed to open a present first. I contemplated on which present from the list it would be, sizing up the size of the box and giving the box the smallest shake. It was often a mystery to what the present would be; I didn't mind because it added to the suspense and mystery. I tore off the wrapping paper and opened the box with anticipation on my face.
Every Christmas was the same. The first Christmas I had to quickly shake my long hair in front of my face to hide the disappointment; the present inside the box was not one from the list. After several Christmases of presents ranging from Muggle jeans to a magical watch, I learned that my parents just didn't want to take the time and effort to glance at my list. They never bought me something I wanted. They never chose an item off the list. It was the same disappointment every year. I came to associate disappointment with Christmas. Recently, I gave up on lists and just opened my presents with a fake smile plastered on my face. I scolded myself for my ingratitude. Christmas wasn't about presents; it was lucky my parents thought of me and loved me enough to smother me with presents every holiday. But still, the same disappointment always crept up on me. I just wished that they would buy me something for Christmas that I would actually like.
But this year, I did not feel the same disappointment. I was looking forward to coming home for Christmas--to sit in the same room to unwrap a medley of disappointing presents. I didn't mind the disappointing presents because I already got a present that I had wanted for once in my life.
Last night, Oliver and I wasted the night away with a lazy game of chess. We quickly abandoned the game to slump in our armchairs, talking lazily about the upcoming Christmas holiday. He told me about an infamous Christmas where his uncle tried to deep-fry a turkey like the Americans do. His uncle was frying it the Muggle way to prove that magic wasn't necessary for everything. However, things went awry when he had to put out a fire with his wand. Luckily, his mum was good at Transfiguration and turned the ashes of the turkey into a roasted, plump turkey for dinner.
We weren't tired; it was already dawn. I was finally falling asleep when Oliver got up from his armchair and leaned his face toward mine. I felt his warm breath washing over my face and opened my eyes. My heart was misbehaving, and I was quite alarmed. Being foolish and a teenager with raging hormones, I thought he was going to kiss me. I was frozen because I've only kissed someone once, and it wasn't out of my free will. The Muggle boy next door suddenly planted one on me. It was wet, to say the least. Instead, he blew in my ear. I yelped and angrily pushed him away from me. He fell on the floor with a loud crash. He laughed and rubbed his bum. He told me that he was going to give me my Christmas present, but considering recent events, he was reconsidering it.
I was surprised. It had been more than a month since we began talking to each other in the common room from midnight until the break of dawn; I hadn't expected him to buy me a present. I meekly informed him I didn't get him anything. He shrugged it off and dug into the pocket of his pajama pants, extracting a small box and handing it to me. I examined the long, thin box carefully as he pressed it into my hands. I glanced over at the messily wrapped box, its crinkled paper printed with Snitches and broomsticks. He had vainly tried to tie a bow around the box with limp, red ribbon. I smiled.
He told me he wasn't that good of a wrapper. I agreed silently. I sucked in my breath the way I always did before I opened a present. He imitated me, sucking in his cheeks and puckering his lips in a rather exaggerated way. I had the urge to smack him, but set my sights instead of the box. I tore away the paper and ribbon, staring down at the mysterious black box. The same anticipation I felt every Christmas filled me as I stared down at the box.
He snidely asked me if I was going to just stare at it or open it. I glared at him nastily and told him I was taking my time. I finally lifted off the lid of the box, staring down at the box, steadying myself for disappointment. However, the disappointment didn't come because I was thrilled. I was thrilled with what I was staring down at, the glittering necklace sitting innocently in the box. Gladrags displayed the same necklace in the shop window; I had taken to staring through the window mournfully at it, wishing I hadn't wasted away my money on sweets. I looked up at Oliver's face, a grin on my face. I flung my arms around him and hugged him. He laughed as I screamed happily into his ear. It was about the best present I had ever gotten, I told him. It was the truth.
The Hogwarts Express has just stopped. I can't get this smile off my face. At least this year, I won't have to force one on my face every time I open a present.
A/N: Hey! I'm sorry I haven't updated. I was worrying about school. I just started yesterday…pretty early. I hope this was good. The chapters are kind of random. I was debating on using all diary entries to tell the story or part diary entries and third person narrative. I decided on diary entries.
I don't know if this is going to be short or not. I'll take my time on it. I'll probably only work on it when I have time, considering school and all. I didn't go into great detail about the necklace because I don't really remember what was "in" in 1992. I only know what necklaces I like now in 2006. Haha. And about the deep-frying turkey…I'm not sure if they do that in Britain or not.
Thanks for all the reviews and support!
Ashley- thanks!
Ghostwriter262 - Hehe, glad you liked this story! Thanks!
Semma - Thank you!
Icelandic Morning Glory - Haha glad you loved it. I can imagine Katie as either way. Mostly dark hair or lighter brown hair, but blonde is okay to me too. Hehe. Thanks!
Giddyupgal - Haha, I'm surprised with myself because I've been getting lots of ideas lately. Usually, I'm sapped of creativity so I don't know if you want to steal my brain. Your review was long enough! You're so nice! Thanks!
Meshugenah - Hi there again. Haha no poking! I finally posted up the first chapter! Thanks!
The Marauders and Lily - Thanks! Hope you like this chapter.
lilu05 - Thanks! Haha, my creativeness will eventually go on a vacation too. Haha.
xtotallyatpeacex - Thanks!
FizzingWhizbeez - Thanks very much! I wish I knew someone as delicious as I make Oliver out as. Haha. I'll settle for some other guys. Haha.
callernumber16onz100 - Not a one-shot! Haha. It's a story…Thanks for reviewing!
CarbonMonoxide - Thanks! Haha I love that word. Wanker. I'm not even British but I love it anyways. Haha.
Hope this chapter lived up to the previous! Thanks!