Chapter Ten: I Told You So

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. Sorry for the long wait.

One: Dating is overrated.

Two: Leanne is a bitch.

Three: I take Fact Two back. She is just trying to get me over Oliver after all.

Four: I am going on a bloody date.

Five: I am not going to enjoy it.

I could go on, but I'd sound like a pathetic encyclopaedic moron on repeat. I don't even remember the guy's name. I only know that he's one of Leanne's guy friends' friend who is in – oh shoot- ah, yes. Gryffindor. Or is it Ravenclaw?

My dear friend managed to convince me to go out with this random guy, believing that it would make me move my sorry ass on, given that my infatuation with my ex-Quidditch Captain was unhealthy and going absolutely nowhere.

I'd agreed somehow, determined to make the date a fiasco. I mean, I wanted to get over the stupid boy but dating ain't my cup of tea.

On the morning of my date, I knew that it wouldn't end well and I relished the thought.

"Aw come on, Katie, it's going to be fine!" Leanne snapped, taking a look at my beaming face.

"Not if I can help it. I've already asked Madam Puddifoot to get a gnome cherub to sing to whatshisname." I was actually rubbing my hands in glee.

"Thomas."

"Whatever. Thomas will be so freaked out! He'll probably think I'm desperate to marry him or something and he'll run off, screaming bloody murder and I'll be free - YOW!" I yelped as, on the word 'free', my hand had swept into my burning hot porridge.

Leanne snorted. "Serves you right. The whole damned point of going on a date is to enjoy yourself and start imagining yourself with other guys. Not playing pranks on them!"

I stuck out my tongue at her. And then froze.

Phoebe had dropped a piece of card into my bowl. He'd sent me a postcard of him and Elizabeth skiing in Scotland.

I let out a strangled croak and flung it into Harry's pumpkin juice. It was oddly amusing to see the images of Oliver and Elizabeth scrambling to get away from the orange waves. Harry looked at me with concern; hysterical laughter was bubbling out of my mouth.

Leanne hastily fished the postcard out and dried it with her wand. I snatched it up and stared at the devil that had plagued me for months.

"Stop. Stroking. His. Bloody. Hair."

I bit my lip and dropped the postcard back into my porridge. Somehow, the date seemed like a good lifeline just then.

"Will you won't you will you won't you will you won't you marry meeeee? Will you won't you will you won't you will you won't you marry meeeee?"

I sniggered at the look on ol' Thomas' face. It was a look of pure twisted laughter.

As the cherubian gnome disappeared huffily (it didn't take kindly to two teenage wizards laughing in its face), I flashed a grin at my date. He didn't look angry, nor did he run screaming for bloody murder. He looked bemused.

"Good idea, that. But you'd have to try harder to get me to go away." That said, the smug boy folded his arms over his green sweater and leaned back in his chair.

I rolled my eyes at him and mimicked his gesture. Both of us sat there, unmoving, before bursting into insane laughter when he started humming the cherub's song.

I was surprised, to say the least. Thomas Keefe was an interesting person. And I had enjoyed the date so far. He was, well, he was crazy, to start with. And he seemed genuinely interested in me, for some reason.

"Hello? Sickle for your thoughts?" His hand waved in front of my eyes and made me blink. It also startled me enough to blurt out my last thought.

As I spluttered to undo that last action, he frowned and looked at me speculatively. I settled for gulping down the horrible tea in my cup, cheeks flushing red.

"Why wouldn't I be interested in you? You're smart and funny. And being pretty helps too."

That was when I spat tea all over his face.

"How was it?" Leanne twittered into my ear as I sat down to dinner.

"I schpatmytfeearoverim."

"What?"

"I spat my tea all over him."

"Merlin, wasn't it enough to torture him with the stupid cherub? Did you have to wreck his sweater and everyth – why're you grinning like that? Stop grinning like that."

I swallowed my smile.

"I like him."

"Thomas?"

"Yes. When I spat all over him, all he did was to laugh. Merlin's baggy underwear, I haven't laughed for a long time. Not like that." Fumbling with the ends of the tablecloth, I nearly yanked the entire thing along with the dishes down to the floor. Fred's glare chastised me and I folded my arms.

"You like him."

"Who?" Thomas appeared beside me, wearing a fresh green sweater. "Me?"

I smothered a goofy smile. "Yeah."

"Obviously, who wouldn't?" He nonchalantly put his arm around my shoulders while reaching for the basket of bread. I nonchalantly bit down hard on his hand and poked him in the ribs with my elbow.

He stared down at me, cradling his hand. That's right, stared down at me. I am short, I admit it. His black curls were reminiscent of a brown headed Ca – no. His blue eyes twinkled mischievously and I squeezed myself closer to Leanne, who squeaked.

"You are a real Kitty aren't you?"

His soft, slow voice belied his swift motion as he stuffed my laughing mouth with a small piece of bread.

I chewed on the rye bread and retaliated by cramming another piece into his mouth. Snorting with laughter, we continued our silly little food fight with the rest of the Gryffindors looking on. Leanne, in particular, was chuckling at us. And I could see in her eyes that dratted line, 'I told you so.'

But boy, I didn't care. All I cared about at that very moment was Thomas Keefe. And that was when Operation Obliterating Oliver began.

Short chapter but I will update soon. End of chapter ten.