He was looking at her like he expected something. What was it? Not a kiss. No, she definitely wasn't supposed to kiss him. Nor should she bow, worship his feet, or anything else that would mark her as a stalker. So what was it he wanted? Oh! Right. A response. He wanted a response.

What had he said?

"Natalie, I presume," he had said. And something else. "Hi, I'm Oliver Wood." That was it. He was Oliver Wood.

"I know. I mean, hi. I mean, how do you know my name?"

"Melinda mentioned you came over. I figured you were the only person who'd be poking around our room, nicking bags. That's yours, then, is it?"

"Um. Yes," she said nervously, looking at him with wide eyes. "Look, I'm really very sorry about breaking into your room, and for waking you up, it's just I really needed my bag and thought I might have left it in here…"

"And you were right, so that's fine then. Besides, you didn't exactly break in. I didn't lock the door."

She laughed a little. Oliver gestured to the couch, and she sat obediently. He winced as the movement jiggled his brain, and put a hand to his head.

"Oh, are you okay? That Bludger looked like it hit you really hard."

"Noticed that, then, huh? I was half hoping nobody was paying attention," he joked, and smiled at her. Something, her heart or her stomach or her diaphragm, something, made flippy movements inside her torso and she ordered it sternly to stop that at once.

"But you're English, aren't you?" he asked, recognising her accent. "What are you doing watching the game over here?"

"I. Um. Followed you," she admitted. "Uh, I mean, your team, I followed the team."

"Pretty big fan, huh?" he asked, and she almost winced. Oh, you have no idea.

"Yeah, I've been a fan since about my second year," she said, grinning.

He looked at her. "Second year, huh? How long ago was that?"

"Is that a roundabout way of asking my age?" she asked, and laughed.

"I suppose it is," he said, smiling, even as his brain jiggled.

Please let that be an indication you're interested in me, and please don't stop being interested in me when I tell you how young am, she prayed. "I'm seventeen," she admitted.

"About to graduate, or just graduated?" he asked.

"Just graduated," she told. Well, I guess it's not a no.

"Ah, so the dreaded N.E.W.T.s are over."

She laughed. "Yeah, I suppose they are. Now I'm free to laze about and chase Quidditch teams to different countries."

"So you do this a lot, then?" he joked, and she laughed, though in her mind she had to tell the truth. Yes, actually, I go to every single one of your games.

"Well," she said, needing to get out of there before her brain overloaded and imploded tragically. "I guess I'd better go. I really just stopped by for my bag…"

"Right," he said, like he'd just remembered. He stood up, and she did the same. He winced.

"Brain made of jelly?"

"Exactly," he said.

"By the way…" she began, out of curiousity, looking around. "Where are the others? Melinda and Rylie and Kenneth and Carpenter and Cornelius and Will?"

He looked amused by her recitation of names, but he was actually thinking 'Ah ha, she said Will's name last, which means she's trying not to make him look important, which means he is important, which means she probably has a crush on him, which is too bad, because she's really very pretty and she's an adult in the Wizarding World at least' and other complicated deductive thoughts. "Oh, Will hauled the others off to force them to enjoy themselves. They'll be back if you want to drop by later."

"Oh, no, I probably shouldn't," she said. "After all, I'm just another annoying fan."

"Ah, but we don't have so many of those around here, if you'll recall. Go on, come on by. It's our last full day here in Ireland, you might as well."

"Oh," said Natalie, disappointed that they were leaving. "Well, maybe I will then."

Oliver caught the disappointment, and assumed she was thinking of Will. "Well, if you're busy, you could always visit us in England, as we're all going back there. Actually, why don't you visit us in England anyway? Any time you like."

"Really," she exclaimed. "Brilliant!"

He smiled at her, and she grinned back, and he found himself quite drawn to that grin. Seven years is a pretty big gap, he told himself. She'd be better off with Will, he's younger. Best if you just focus on women your age. Right.

Just as he was thinking this, and she was thinking ohmygodohmygodohmygod he's so pretty when he smiles do you think he likes me he might I don't know what if he thinks I'm too young maybe I'd be better off with somebody else besides you've been stalking him and if he finds that out he will hate you forever oh god I should leave now! Someone knocked on the door, and their heads whipped in that direction. Oliver crossed to the door and pulled it open.

Amortentia Warbeck was standing there, looking as gorgeous as she had the previous night, if more casual. She smiled warmly at Oliver, then glanced into the room behind him.

"Oh, hello, Miss MacDonald!" she said, taking her as an excuse to brush past Oliver and into the room. "I didn't expect to be seeing you here!" She turned to look at Oliver. "Oh, Mr. Wood, have you seen William? I was hoping we could continue our fascinating conversation from last night."

She was flirting, obviously. She smiled at Oliver prettily and batted her eyelashes, even while asking him where she could find another man. Natalie was jealous. She was envious, for starters, because Amortentia was prettier and richer and more talented than Natalie would ever be, and she was jealous because Amortentia was flirting with someone whom Natalie thought of, rightly or not, as HERS. She seethed.

Oliver saw the jealousy, but assumed, as he was beginning to do a lot, that it was over Will. He wondered if he should lie, tell the terrifyingly gorgeous woman in front of him Will was somewhere he wasn't, but decided she was too scary and he didn't want to be on her bad side. "Ah," he said. "He and the rest of the team went into town to enjoy themselves. They're probably at a pub or something."

"Oh, I see," said Amortentia, looking crestfallen. "I don't suppose he has a cellphone?"

"Er," said Oliver. "He does, actually."

"Oh, good!" said Amortentia, visibly brightening. "Could you, perhaps, provide me with his number?"

"Alright," said Oliver, and she whipped out her phone and dialed the numbers as Oliver told them to her. Then she held the phone to her ear and brushed past Oliver and out the door.

"Oh, William!" they heard her say, as Oliver closed the door. "It's me, Amortentia."

Oliver turned to Natalie, looking slightly rattled. "Who the bloody hell was that?"

Natalie sighed, mistaking his confusion for attraction. "Amortentia Warbeck, only daughter of singing sensation Celestina Warbeck and singer for the Wizarding Wireless Network."

"Oh," he said, still shaken. "Her. She's very pretty."

Natalie scowled. "Yes," she said shortly. "I suppose she is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things I have to get done."

And with that, she bustled out of the room, leaving Oliver feeling not only confused, but also something of a cad.

Oh, shit, thought Natalie, as she half ran down the stairs, in too much of a hurry to get away from that room to take the elevator. Oh, shit, oh shit. I just made a complete and utter fool of myself, didn't I? All he said was that she was pretty. She IS pretty. Anyone with half a brain would think she was pretty. And then I just…jumped all over him. Well. Not literally. I suppose it would have been worse if I had literally jumped on him. Worse for him, not for me. I would have enjoyed it. I wouldn't have just jumped on him, either. I'd jump on him so he fell down, then I would straddle him and I would undo his shirt buttons – no, wait, he wasn't wearing a shirt with buttons, I'd have to just tear it off. Then I'd – Oh, god, shut up! Shut up shut up shut up! You just embarrassed yourself and probably made him hate you and now he won't want you to visit them in England or watch any of their games and if he sees you he'll probably leave, or have you kicked out. Can he do that? Can he kick people out of places? I think he must be able to, he's Oliver Wood, after all. Oh, god, what am I doing?

What Natalie MacDonald was doing at that moment was rushing down many flights of stairs to escape a man she'd been obsessed with since she was eleven and had now just thoroughly embarassed herself in front of. Eventually, however, all that rushing down stairs got tiring, and she decided it was safe to take the elevator. She pushed open the door to the hallway and walked in the direction she thought the elevator was in. When she reached it, she saw someone standing in front of it, and almost turned and left. However, she mentally smcked herself and reminded herself it wasn't anyone she knew. She walked forward to wait, and realized she had been wrong.

"Seamus!" she exclaimed, and he turned to see her.

"Oh, Natalie! What's up? What are you doing here?" he asked, smiling at her.

"Oh, I, ah, left my bag in the room and came back to get it," she said.

"Then why are you on my floor?" he asked, amused.

"I decided to take the stairs," she said, omitting her reasons behind this decision. "And then I got tired."

"Ah. Coincidence, then, huh? Well, take the elevator down with me and then I'll take you out to lunch."

"Oh, no, not this again," she groaned. "You're going to take me out to some fabulously expensive place, wave your money around for everybody to see, and then make suggestive comments at me while our waiter is still standing there, aren't you?"

"Exactly," he said cheerfully. "But the food will be really, really good."

She sighed. "I give up. You know my weakness. Let the suggestive comments begin."

"Fantastic. I'll start as soon as you give me a jumping off point."

"Do I have to facilitate? Can't I just suffer?"

"Oh, alright," he said, as the doors slid open and they stepped inside. There was an elderly couple in there with them, looking rich and stuck-up. Seamus flashed a quick grin at them, and Natalie barely resisted the urge to groan. Seamus loved nothing more than messing with people.

"Hi there," he said to her, and she looked at him, wondering what his game was.

"Hi," she said back, tentatively.

"My name's Seamus," he told her, then cast a glance at the thing that showed which floor they were on. They were approaching the elderly couple's stop quickly. "So," he said, hurrying it up. "Those pants look really good on you."

She blinked at him, wondering if he was really doing what she thought he was doing. "Thanks," she said.

"They'd look even better on the floor," he told her, just as the doors clanged open and the older couple hurried off the elevator. He shot them a glance, just to make sure the old woman was looking at him in shock, then he kissed Natalie firmly on the lips. The doors slid shut in the old woman's horrified face, and Seamus released Natalie and collapsed to the floor laughing.

"Did you see the look on her face?" he said, still cracking up. "I swear, that expression!"

She glared at him. "I feel violated."

He looked at her almost sheepishly. "Sorry, love. I couldn't resist. I thought you played along well."

"You know she's going to report you."

"She doesn't have my last name. Come on, we're almost at the ground floor. Stop looking so frowning and let me take you to lunch."

"It's almost four."

"Well, late lunch, then. I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"

As soon as Natalie had admitted that she was, in fact, hungry, Seamus grinned, took her hand, and dragged her forcibly out the door. "Come on," he called. "I know the perfect place in town. The food's delicious, the prices are outrageous, and the waiters get suitably horrified when I'm blatantly sexual!"

"You have an unusual definition of 'perfect'," she muttered, and she allowed herself to be dragged through the parking lot to Seamus' car.