Chapter Nine: Date

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the HP universe. I do own the plot (of this story) though.

Notes: As there is little mention of Katie in her sixth year, I shall be glossing over a lot of stuff. Don't kill me.


I waited with Jasper and Leanne as the train grounded to a halt. My hands were twisted in a knot, I was just so anxious.

I was also rather furious with myself for being anxious.

It's just a meeting with Oliver and his girlfriend. You only like Oliver as a friend. A friend. A normal friend.

Jasper was thrilled. He couldn't wait to see a real Quidditch training in progress. Leanne was slightly excited, but she went along mainly just to keep me under control. She was also slightly smug that she was right.

We stepped out of the train and proceeded to walk half a mile to the Pitch. I was glad that I had worn my warmest sweater; it was freezing out there!

Oliver greeted us at the gate. He had grown a little more muscular and his hair was longer than usual. His trademark Wood smile was a tad tired as well. Oh well, professional Quidditch takes the breath out of you. Take it from a daughter of a guy who played pro-Quidditch for a couple of years.

"Hey Katie. Glad you came." I smiled at him through the cold. Leanne and Jasper were already inside.

"And you too, little bugger!" At that, Oliver swept Jasper up and dangled him in the air. My little brother screamed and seemed to enjoy it. Leanne dragged me through the gate.

We went to the locker rooms, which smelled ten times worse than the ones at Hogwarts, which is saying a lot. A woman was sitting down waiting for us.

"This is my girlfriend, Elizabeth."


Elizabeth Morris was pretty. She was also perfectly nice, greeting us perfectly cordially and was completely perfectly friendly to Jasper. I'm not being sarcastic here. Elizabeth's a really nice woman. She asked about school and talked about her time in Beauxbatons – she's half-French, apparently, which explains her beauty. She's also rather obsessed with Quidditch, which makes her the bloody perfect person for Oliver.

They make a pretty picture, standing next to each other. I should know. Oliver asked me to take a picture of them with Jasper. A perfect family.

I think only Leanne noticed the strangled expression on my face when the Polaroid-like picture developed.

I also met all the guys Oliver told me about. I felt a little uncomfortable at first. After all, two sixteen-year-olds meeting with twenty-plus-year-olds? Awkward. Then it became better when the conversation flowed. I got to meet Sam's newborn and Keane's sister.

I was, sadly, rather wooden throughout the visit. It was as if I was there and yet I wasn't. It was very much like being inside a glass bottle. You can hear and see and smell but not very well. Heck, it's like having a wall in between you and the world.

Leanne described it as zombie-like actually. Jasper didn't really notice much; he was busy asking all the team members to give him broom rides. Embarrassingly, for all the conversation, the team members called me 'Zombie girl', which reinforced Leanne's remark.


"Oh, stop it!" Leanne's exasperated cry almost knocked me off my bed.

I blinked at her. "What?"

As with all unladylike people, she snorted and said, "Stop moping around! You've had that stupid face on since that meeting with whatshisname and whatshername."

I can't bloody believe the gall of Leanne. After a couple of years obsessing over Oliver, she managed to forget said Captain's name.

"I'm not moping!" I retorted, though, of course, it was completely and utterly true. Zombie girl, coming through!

"Girl, he has a girlfriend. He likes her, she likes him and he doesn't like you. Just forget it already!"

I stared at her, a little annoyed at this pep talk. I had no wish to discuss my infatuation with the prat from Scotland this close to the exams, zombie girl or no.

"Well, you didn't give up on your bloody stupid crush on him back then! Besides, what d'you suggest I do? I bloody well know that I bloody well should give in already; he's nineteen and I'm like sixteen and I don't stand a bloody chance! And there isn't a bloody chance anyway, because he's got a bloody perfect girlfriend that even I like!" After my rant, I panted slightly, having gotten up, paced around, tripped over my hairbrush and fallen on my trunk.

Leanne looked at me with a strange expression on her face.

"What?"

"Phoebe's in your hair," she explained.

I tried to glare at my infuriating owl that had her claws in my dirty-blond hair. Tried to. You try glaring at something on your head and see if you succeed.

"That's not the point!" I yelled, which made Phoebe hoot in anger and poo on my trunk, thankfully missing me.

"I was fourteen, dear Kates. Fourteen with a stupid crush; I had no idea what the hell to do! Anyway, I think you should just forget about it. It's good that you know it's only an infatuation; at least you aren't in denial."

"You should stop reading 12 Steps to Quit Drinking."

"Shut up, it's funny! Every time you think about it, you'll just feel hurt. So, it makes sense to quit it."

"Yeah, I know that. But what should I do to, you know, stop thinking about it?" I think my voice kind of cracked at this part.

"Well," Leanne said slowly, with a startled glance at my voice, "you could start dating?"

I don't date. I don't ever date. For some weird reason, I refuse to go out with any boy in Hogwarts. While Leanne goes out with guys during those beautiful Hogsmeade trips, I trudge into the local pub to drink Butterbeer and then bump into the twins at Zonko's. I don't date.

Thus my reaction. "Pffffffffft! You're not serious?"

"I am deadly serious."

I spluttered. "It's ridi – not feasible – I mean – exams – no way…"

Leanne sighed as she waited for me to stop sputtering like a kettle on the boil. I kept on fizzing, random words coming out of my mouth.

Bottom line is: I. Don't. Date.


This is a short chapter as I am desperately stalling! I really am unsure if I should continue this line of... plotting? Please R&R and tell me what you think.

Thank you loads,

nothingville.