It's Not My Fault I Fell For Your Stupid Accent

Disclaimer: I don't own this. I know, that wasn't as interesting as I usually try and make my disclaimers. I just felt like being boring and normal.

A/N: You didn't have to wait so long for this update, did you? Unfortunately term starts on Tuesday so I'm not sure how long it will be until the next chapter, but hopefully it will only be a few weeks at the most. Thank you so much to sweetblonde15, Witch Tekamika, Lady Catriona-Arre and lemonicelolly for reviewing the last chapter, and to all my other reviewers of past chapters. And to those of you who read & don't review, please consider reviewing because it gives me a sense of purpose & keeps me on track :)

And that's enough from me, enjoy!

Previously, in It's Not My Fault I Fell For Your Stupid Accent:

"AAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!"

I open my eyes and it's broad daylight, Professor McGonagall is bending over me, looking at me sternly over her glasses.

"Oh, Professor, sorry, just having a bad dream," I explain, picking myself up from my uncomfortable position and promptly falling over due to my dead legs.

"Where you sleeping in this cupboard all night, Mr Wood?" Professor McGonagall asks sternly.

"I – er – got lost on my way back from Quidditch training, Professor."

I attempt to get up again and fall down once more.

"Well I hope you don't make a habit of it, Mr Wood," McGonagall reproaches, sweeping off down the hall.

"Will somebody help me up?" I call feebly into the now-crowded corridor. "Anyone? Yes? No, I didn't think so."

I close my eyes as a stampede of students rush past me to breakfast and begin the long wait for my limbs to regain consciousness.

Chapter 9: Step One and a Whole Lot of Anger

Katie:

As I sit down at breakfast, buttering my toast and pondering my odd dreams last night (in which Mrs Norris featured as my best friend), I glance up at the Ravenclaw table and see Roger Davies greet Felicity Chambers with a good-morning-tongue-down-your-throat-kiss and I stab my toast moodily.

"What's got your robes in a twist, Katie?" Angelina asks, plunking herself down on my right.

"Boys," I mutter mutinously, tearing at my toast like it's Roger's throat.

"Ohh," Alicia sighs dreamily from my left, staring at George as he attempts to eat what must be an entire litter of pigs in the form of bacon.

I make a disgusted noise and drink my pumpkin juice.

"What's wrong with boys?" Angelina asks vaguely, drizzling maple syrup on her plate of pancakes.

"Boys are disgusting. When they're born they get doted on and think they are superior to girls, when they go to school they cheat and lie and have no thought for anybody's feelings, and when they grow up they shirk responsibility and start the whole cycle again by fathering a stupid boy."

"Not all boys are disgusting," Alicia says with the same dazed look, clearly of the mind that her boyfriend was not one of the 'disgusting' boys.

I shoot her a look that could freeze Firewhiskey and she corrects herself immediately.

"No, you're right, boys are disgusting, dirty, vile and loathsome and we should all swear ourselves to a lifetime of abstinence and violence towards the male species."

I'm on my way to History of Magic in a slightly more cheerful mood when I trip over a rather inconveniently-placed corpse and find myself sprawled on the floor, my books flying everywhere. As I attempt to stand up I recognise said corpse to be my late-Quidditch-captain.

"Bloody hell Wood, couldn't you find a more suitable place to die rather than the middle of a busy corridor!" I yell, pointing my wand and shouting 'Accio' at all my possessions.

Wood's corpse grunts and opens its eyes and I yelp in surprise.

"You're not dead?"

"You don't sound too happy about it," Wood grumbles, sitting up to rub his legs.

"Well what were you doing pretending to be dead in the middle of the corridor?"

He's even more nuts than I remember.

"I wasn't pretending to be dead, I was resting whilst I waited for my legs to regain – oh, never mind," he seems to lose track of where his story was going.

"Oh, sorry," I apologise, having aimed wildly at my last book, resulting in a surprised first-year zooming into me, knocking me back down next to Wood.

"What've you got there?" I ask Oliver, who is reading a scrap of parchment with deep concentration.

"Oh, just er, my plan to kill Mrs Norris," he mutters vaguely, stuffing the parchment into his pocket.

"Ah, so you did want to kill my best friend! See, I'm not a lunatic!" I proclaim, having proof that my odd nightmares are not just the result of an overworked imagination.

"You might not want to declare your sanity whilst lying in the middle of a corridor hugging a first-year in your arms," Oliver advises, getting to his feet and brushing himself off.

With another muttered apology I let go of the first-year, who runs away so quickly you'd think she'd been summoned by someone else.

"Like you're one to talk!" I yell, scrabbling for my books and jumping up to follow him down the corridor. "Pretending you're dead, plotting to kill my friend, disappearing into bushes…trying on your sister's dress robes!" I made that last one up because I was running out of steam, but Oliver turned bright red.

"That was once, and I was only ten…twelve…fifteen – but that's beside the point! You're the one whose best friend is the caretaker's cat!" he yells, pointing at me like being best friends with a cat is a crime.

"IT WAS ONLY A DREAM!" I yell, half to convince myself, and storm off in the opposite direction.

I turn around after a few steps and march haughtily back towards him. "Actually, I was going this way," I muster a dignified glare and decide to go straight to my History of Magic class before something else happens.

History of Magic is probably the best class in which to do whatever you fancy, as Professor Binns is quite content to drone on to himself even in the midst of a full-blown riot (as happened last year when Cormac McLaggen decided to eat a pound of Doxy eggs for ten galleons). Today I was discussing my completely insane life with Leanne, a girl in my year who I don't often talk to because she's particularly dim-witted.

"So your mum went out with Oliver Wood's cousin, then—"

"Cousin-in-law," I correct. "Then she met my dad, who had been stalking her since the start of Christmas break—"

"Hang on, how could she meet your dad fourteen years after he gave birth to you?"

"Well obviously she had met him before. No, she ran into him again after Christmas—"

"Ouch," Leanne winces. "Did it hurt?"

"Huh?"

"Running into your dad! How much does he weigh?"

"Not like that you dolt, she reacquainted herself with him after Christmas and he convinced her to break up with Mr Matthews—"

"Who?"

"Oliver's cousin-in-law. And then he came over to my house whereby I was fed a tale of heartache and misfortune and expected to embrace this green-eyed, brown-haired, devilishly handsome man as my father."

"But, he is your father," Leanne points out rather stupidly.

"That's not the point Leanne, the point is that he's a lowdown, pathetic, vile—Oliver?"

"What? Your father is Oliver?"

As anybody with half a brain would know, my father is not Oliver, and my motive for thus exclaiming his name is because I have just looked under my desk and for some unknown reason, Oliver Wood is crouching underneath it, a quill between his teeth and a look of pleading ignorance on his face.

"What are you doing under my desk Oliver?" I ask whilst Leanne mutters a soft "oh!" of understanding.

"Er, I'm just a figment of your imagination?"

"No, he's not Katie! I can see him too!" Leanne cries, pointing her wand at Wood as if I were about to believe his feeble lie.

"Oliver, what are you really doing under my table?"

"Er…doing a survey?"

"Survey?"

"Yes, of the underside of desks, you know. It's to see which flavour Droobles are most commonly placed on the underneath of desks. Now this desk has two 'Gruesome Grape' and one 'Terrifying Tiramisu', so that brings it up to—"

He begins scribbling on his parchment and then makes to stand up, forgetting he is directly underneath my table.

"OUCH!"

He sort of crawls out and backs away from my desk, bumping into Leanne and sending her flying on top of him. Managing to extricate himself with considerable difficulty, he flings Leanne rolling under her desk and he hurries to the door, muttering to himself about stupid twins and crazy plans.

"Oh, no, Leanne, don't," I plead, as she lifts her hand to the underside of her table.

"Mmm, 'Bloodthirsty Blueberry'."

Yuck.

Oliver:

I'll admit that my plan didn't really get off to the perfect start. For one, I once again found myself in a position of extreme discomfort and pain, and for another, all I managed to eavesdrop on was The Return of Katie Bell's Vile and Loathsome Father, Part Seventy-Four.

The thing is, it's extremely difficult to stalk someone who is in a different year, and therefore with a completely different timetable to you. It was lucky I had a free period during her History of Magic class, but whilst I'm sitting here in Transfiguration, god only knows where—

"Mr Wood I am not going to ask you again!" McGonagall eyes me beadily.

"That would be a good idea Professor as I don't think I know the answer," I reply honestly.

I return my gaze to the scrap of parchment in my hand, wondering how on earth I'm supposed to stalk Katie for the rest of the day without her knowing it.

And then I come up with a brilliant solution.

"…you know, Katie, I really think you should rethink it, I mean he's such a catch."

"Alicia? 'Such a catch'? Who says that? Anyway, I've made up my mind, I'm not going out with him!"

I almost fall out of my hiding place – the large birch tree that Katie and her friends are lying under – in surprise. Katie was thinking of going out with me?

"Come on Katie, if I wasn't going out with Fred I'd be completely jealous!" Angelina cries out, and I blush a little. I didn't realise I was that fancy-able!

My brilliant solution to stalking Katie Bell came in the form of Potter's Invisibility Cloak, that he once lent me (er, I once stole off him) in order to spy on the Slytherin team's training when I was convinced they were jinxing the Bludgers. Anyway, I cornered Potter after my Transfiguration lesson and – persuaded – him to lend me the cloak, and now here I am, seven feet above the ground, crouched between two very unstable branches, spying on my lovely Katie during her lunch break.

"…and how many girls do you think he actually asks out? You've got to be pretty lucky, admit it."

Hang on, I never asked Katie out, did I? Unless she's counting that time last week when I tripped over her leg at breakfast and fell face-first into her pancakes and then offered to buy her pancakes at a later date…come to think of it that must be it!

"Alright, the guy is incredibly good-looking, will most probably become a professional Quidditch player and has a reputation of being an incredibly good snog—"

Gosh, people really think all that stuff about me?

"…But I just wouldn't feel right dating him."

"Why?" Alicia asks incredulously.

Yeah, why, Katie?

"Well, after that awful date with Roger I hardly need another egotistical Quidditch player who's going to ditch me after one date."

Then two things happen at once:

My foot slips on my cloak, causing me to lose my balance and flail wildly between two branches, and Angelina says "Cedric wouldn't ditch you after one date."

"WWHHAA-AAAAAAARGGHHHHHH!!"

Thud.

That's the sound of me falling out of the tree, Potter's cloak wrapped around my upper body and face, and crashing down onto the roots below me. Oh, and we won't forget the combined sound of Katie, Alicia and Angelina shrieking in fright as they witness a pair of legs writhing in agony two feet away from them.

"What is that?" Alicia whispers as I struggle with the cloak which is in the process of choking me. I finally extricate my head from the stupid thing and the girls start screaming again.

"Oliver?"

"Oh, hello Katie, Alicia, Angelina," I manage to twist into a sitting-up position and smile painfully at the three shocked faces in front of me.

"Oliver, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" Katie asks, her eyes narrowing.

"Er, well, you see, I'm doing a survey on the trees at Hogwarts and I –"

"Oliver Wood HAVE YOU BEEN STALKING ME?" Katie bellows, standing up and towering over me, her eyes now mismatched slits of fury.

I decide to opt for honesty.

"Well…no." Alright, I'm a chicken.

"It certainly looks like you've been stalking me; turning up in my classroom under my desk, falling out of trees under which I'm talking with my friend, invisible at that."

"Well, when you put it like that…"

"Why are you following me Oliver?" Katie asks in exasperation, and I cleverly opt for dishonesty.

"The thing is, well, I don't feel that you've been putting one hundred per cent into training recently and I wanted to make sure you didn't have any distractions."

"What?! I scored forty-five goals out of fifty against you last training session!" Katie screams, pointing her wand at me angrily.

"Exactly, it should have been fifty!" I yell back at her. I'm backed against the tree trunk with no escape route and I figure my only choice is to make her feel guilty and run.

"Well of course I have distractions; in case you haven't noticed Wood my father—"

"Yes, your father's back, you're not talking to your mum, I've heard it a hundred times Katie. You know what, maybe instead of going over and over the same story, maybe you should try and talk to your parents and sort this whole thing out. Oh but sorry, I forgot, that would mean you'd have nothing to complain about, and Merlin knows that can't happen!"

For some reason, my fake anger has turned into actual anger and I've stood up and now I'm the one towering over Katie, glaring down at her.

"Wha- that's not – I mean – well that's not all I have to deal with!" Katie splutters, looking at me in shock.

"Oh, what else is there? Too many boys asking you out, Katie? Now that's definitely got to be a difficult distraction to have. No, you know what? You need to just stop acting like a spoilt only child and realise that other people have feelings too, Katie. Until then, don't bother speaking to me."

She backs away, white-faced, and I storm off into the castle, half angry with her and half angry with myself. I don't usually let my personal life affect my life at Hogwarts, but Katie had just made me snap.

I growl at a third-year in my way and continue angrily to Charms.

I can't help thinking that my plans to seduce Katie Bell aren't progressing as I would have hoped.

A/N: REVIEW!! please? )