The party settled quickly in the aftermath of Flint's ejection. With the help of Sean and Katie, Oliver moved to a couch where he could prop his leg up on a table. Sean was displeased with the events of the night, but he remained quiet with only a frown to indicate his worry for his younger brother. Eventually, Charlie pulled him away by slinging one arm around his shoulder and steering him towards a conversation with Fridgeir and the other Quidditch player who'd assisted in physically removing Flint from the premises. The other player (who was a beater, as Katie first assumed and later confirmed) had been impressed by Charlie's strength.

"You would make a good beater," he said in what sounded like a vaguely American accent, eyeing Charlie's considerable biceps.

"I make a much better seeker," replied Charlie.

"Seeker?" The man's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't have guessed. You have the build for a beater."

"Charlie was nearly recruited to play for England, but he turned them down," Fridgeir informed him. "At least, that's what Wood tells me."

"I preferred dragons," said Charlie, a broad grin on his face. "Much more straightforward. There aren't too many ways to trick a dragon."

"I see," said the man. He turned to Katie. "I don't suppose you turned down playing Quidditch for England as well?"

"Not likely, although I did play in school. That's how I know Oliver," she said.

"Ah, you're one of the chasers then," he said, nodding to himself. Katie must have appeared confused, because he clarified, "We joined the League the same year, both on the Puddlemere reserve team. He used to rave about his Hogwarts team, said all of you could have played professionally."

Katie blushed. "That's awfully generous of him. Alicia plays for the tornadoes now, but as for the rest of us..." Katie shrugged. "None of us were interested enough, I suppose. We never tried out."

"That's a shame," he said, eyeing her up and down. "You seem nice. Wood always mentioned how there was one chaser who probably would have lopped his head off if given the chance on certain days, but I'm guessing that's not you."

Katie laughed. "Angelina? He's not wrong, although I think most of us harbored some murderous feelings at point or another. He used to wake us up at dawn for early morning practices in the rain, and then spend an hour lecturing at us about strategy. Mostly we just slept through the last part."

The man's face lit up. "He always said you enjoyed those little strategy sessions. If they were anything like the rants about keeper positioning I heard him go on, I'm happy to hear you're actually sane. I was worried he'd managed to recruit a bunch of like-minded, Quidditch obsessed drones who actually welcomed hours of his ramblings." He held out his hand. "I'm Ezra, by the way. I play for the Falcons."

She shook his hand. "Katie. I don't play for any Quidditch team."

Fridgeir clapped a hand on Ezra's back. "Ezzie is one of the most vicious beaters out there, but he buys us drinks afterwards, so we forgive him. Mostly."

Ezra smirked. "I do feel a little bad about last time."

"No, you don't," said Fridgeir flatly. He explained to Katie, "I broke three ribs, almost fell off my broom."

"And that's what mediwizards are for, eh?" said Ezra. "I'm getting myself a drink, and I could bring some back if you like."

"Firewhiskey, neat," said Katie, and Charlie requested a beer. Ezra quickly disappeared behind a cluster of people blocking his path to the drink table. Fridgeir watched him disappear with some amusement.

"He's from Canada, you know," he said. "Muggleborn, so he grew up playing this sport called hockey. From what he's told me, it's customary to slam other players against the boards and to punch them when they foul you. I think he's still disappointed Quidditch matches don't allow the same." He sipped his own drink. "He convinced me to play one time, but I'm a pretty terrible skater, so I spent most of the time falling down and sitting on my ass." He looked thoughtful. "In retrospect, that was probably the point."

"Sounds like my type of game," said Charlie, and Sean rolled his eyes.

Fridgeir responded, but something in the corner of her Katie's distracted her. Bea now sat next to Oliver on the couch, and though he appeared to be in conversation with someone else, little space separated the two of them. One of Oliver's arms lay stretched out across the back of the couch and his hand brushed Bea's shoulder casually. She leaned into the touch.

"Were Bea and Oliver together for long?" she asked suddenly, and Fridgeir, Charlie and Sean halted their conversation in surprise. Each man looked down at her, and she suddenly felt very small.

"You know better than me, Fridgeir" said Sean. "Oliver never tells me much about his personal life."

"At least six months," said Fridgeir, crossing his arms. "I don't recall when they made it official, but they broke up when she moved away. She's muggleborn, and most of her family lives in Brazil, so she left just before You-Know-Who took over the Ministry." His eyes skittered over the crowd before coming to rest on Oliver and Bea. "When she didn't come back in May, I thought she might have decided to stay there. Maybe she met some other fellow."

Not likely, thought Katie, but she refrained from voicing that particular thought. "She seemed disappointed Oliver was leaving in a month, so I think if there was a man, he's long gone," said Katie, attempting to keep her voice steady to mask her curiosity.

"They' go way back," said Sean, jumping into the conversation. "She lived in the same town as us, although she didn't know she was a witch till she received her letter. McGonagall showed up to explain the situation, and she told her about us. She's a year older than Ollie, but they played together as kids. She might just want to see him to reconnect with an old friend."

Katie doubted very much that Bea only wanted to see Oliver in a platonic sense, but the reappearance of Ezra interrupted her thoughts.

"One beer for the fool who turned down England," he said, sidling up to Charlie. "One firewhiskey for Wood's long-suffering chaser, and another for his even longer-suffering brother."

Sean raised his eyebrows as he accepted the glass. "I didn't ask for this."

"Yeah, but you wanted one," said Ezra. "Believe me, I can spot a man who needs a drink a league away."

"What are you drinking?" asked Katie suspiciously, peering at the bright, jungle-green liquid in Ezra's cup.

"Absinthe," said Fridgeir with something in his voice approaching either admiration or disgust. "Straight?"

"No other way," said Ezra and held out his glass. "To Quidditch players, past, present, and future."

They each tilted back their cups and swallowed a generous portion. Katie coughed as the firewhiskey burned her throat, but Ezra barely blinked as he downed half the glass. Fridgeir appeared mildly horrified at the sight, although Charlie quickly became extremely jovial; she suspected he'd had a couple of drinks beforehand, as no amount of beer would make someone that happy.

"I've heard that the trolls in Iceland are different. A bit more slender. Have you ever seen one?" asked Charlie, and he and Fridgeir began a spirited conversation on regional differences in troll morphology. Sean slipped away, presumably to either check on Oliver or to talk to another friend. Ezra drained the last of his absinthe while Katie consumed her firewhiskey at a far more reasonable pace.

"You're the girl with the necklace," Ezra said after a long minute of silence filled only by the chatter of Fridgeir and Charlie. "I remember now, before I was traded to the Falcons. When he heard about what happened to you, well, I don't think I've ever seen him so angry." He tapped the side of his glass with one steady finger. "Sure, he gets emotional over matches and the team, but, real, genuine fury? It was a little terrifying. He skipped a couple of practices to visit you."

"So I've been told," said Katie, now feeling distinctly discomforted.

"Sorry if I'm being too forward," said Ezra. "I just remembered why the name Katie sounded familiar and put two and two together. I'm realizing now you probably don't want to talk about this."

"I'd prefer not to," she replied shortly.

"I'm always making a bit of an ass of myself. People in England are so uptight, like to keep things bottled up-I forget sometimes."

"And you think there's a better way to do it," she said skeptically.

"I know there is," he said and smiled a brilliant smile. "Some basic, old-fashioned, hand-to-hand combat. That's how it's done in hockey. Do you know what hockey is?"

"I've heard of it," said Katie, amused.

"If one sport could come close to Quidditch, it would be hockey," he said, and a dreamy glaze formed in his eyes. "Nobody can fly, of course, it being a muggle sport, but it's pure, raw aggression. I mean, real, professional hockey has rules, but the games my friends and I would play at school-" he tapped his teeth-"let's just say that a few of these puppies have been regrown."

"Charming," said Katie.

"I think so," said Ezra. "I'm guessing you've never played."

"I have not," she admitted. "I doubt I'll have much a chance to, either. I don't think hockey is popular in Romania."

"Romania?" he exclaimed. "What are you doing there?"

"Training to be a healer, I think," she said. "I leave in a few weeks."

Ezra frowned. "Hmm. That is a pity."

She finished her firewhiskey with one last gulp and set it down on a nearby shelf. "And why is that a pity?"

"I'm sure you'll be very busy packing and preparing to leave, which puts a bit of a damper on my plans to ask you out."

If she'd still been holding her glass, she likely would have dropped it in surprise, making two cups lost that night. Instead, she sputtered, "Ask me out? You want to ask me out?"

"Sure, but like I said, I'm sure you're far too busy," he said with a heavy sigh.

"You don't know that," she said, before realizing what she'd just implied.

His eyes sparkled playfully. "Does that mean you'd say yes, if, hypothetically, I were to ask you on a date?"

She considered him carefully. He was a tall, muscular man with ochre colored skin, messy pitch-black hair and gentle dark eyes. Despite his clear penchant for settling disputes physically, he seemed like a genuinely good guy. His status as a professional Quidditch player combined with his natural good looks made him an objectively attractive choice. He was exactly the type of man that Angelina had encouraged her to find at the gala, and Katie knew if Angelina were a part of the conversation, she would have already said yes for Katie. Yes, she left for Romania in three weeks, but one date was hardly a commitment. It had been so long since she'd dated anyone, well over a year and a half.

"It depends," said Katie slowly. "What did you have in mind?"

His smile widened. "I was thinking this would be an excellent chance for you to try ice skating."

Her eyes narrowed. "First of all, it's September, so unless you plan on freezing a pond, I'm not sure where we could go. Secondly, Fridgeir told me you took him skating once and he spent most of the time on his ass."

Ezra laughed, a deep hearty laugh that seemed to make the air vibrate around him. "To your first point, there are indoor skating rinks. Not many of them in England, but I know a few places. And to your second point, well, yes, Fridgeir did look like a bit of an idiot, but only because I convinced him to play hockey. He's skated before, but not nearly enough to be halfway decent. On your first time, you and I would just be skating, nothing more. You might fall once or twice, but I bet you can handle it."

In the corner of her eye, Katie saw how Bea closed any remaining distance between her and Oliver, how he allowed her into his space so naturally. Something tugged at her stomach, but she dismissed it as a side effect of the firewhiskey. Ezra was still waiting for her response with impatient eyes.

"What the hell," she finally said. "I don't see why not."

"Perfect," he said delightedly. "Are you free this Sunday?"

Her Sunday was wide open except for an evening at McLellans with Leanne and Amit. Over the past weeks, particularly since the encounter with Igor, Amit had begun to accompany Leanne and Katie for drinks. Not all of the time, of course, but she no longer questioned his presence at their outings. They wouldn't meet up until eight or nine, which left the rest of the day free for whatever she wanted. Apparently, she wanted to learn how to ice skate with Ezra.

"Up until eight or nine," she said. "I should warn you, I'm not much of a morning person. I know most of you Quidditch players are by force of habit, but I'm enjoying not waking up at dawn every day."

"Don't worry," he said. "I have plans in the morning, so maybe one? We could meet at the Leaky Cauldron at one."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan," she said.

"Perfect. Oh, look, there's Hapley. She certainly dressed for the occasion."

Kira Hapley, accompanied by another woman Katie didn't recognize, swept into the room with a flourish, and she was indeed wearing a dress that managed to remain somewhat informal while still making an impression. Of course she was invited, thought Katie; she and Oliver both played for Puddlemere. Katie glanced over at Angelina and Alicia to observe their reactions. Predictably, Angelina stiffened the moment she laid eyes on Kira, but she hid her initial reaction well. Alicia beckoned her over, and much to Katie's, Angelina's and everyone else's surprise, the two of them kissed each other hello. Not a kiss on the cheek, but a sweet, firm, we-are-permanently-together, kiss.

"Is that new?" muttered Ezra in her ear. "I thought I knew all of the Quidditch couples. Locker room gossip usually picks up on these things before they begin."

"Sort of," she said distractedly. "Excuse me, I need to say hello." And keep Angelina from saying something she regrets, thought Katie, but she kept those thoughts to herself.

Katie spent the rest of the party with Angelina, although she spoke to many of the other guests throughout the night. She, Angelina, Sean and Charlie were some of the few non-Quidditch players at the event, and some of the other people seemed almost fascinated by the idea of a life without Quidditch. What did they do with their time? Didn't they miss playing? What were their opinions, as an outsider, on the season? After the third person to rattle off the same questions, Katie realized that Oliver Wood might not actually be the biggest fanatic in the league. Some were capable of pleasant on other topics, and she genuinely enjoyed their company. She understood Oliver's feelings about the gala-as grand and opulent an event as it was, informal conversation in an informal environment felt far more natural.

Bea left before the party officially ended (although not before dragging Oliver into the hallway again, Katie noticed, but she didn't follow them this time). Katie, Angelina, Alicia and Kira all remained until the very end. At last, only twenty or so people still stood in the room, and Oliver declared the night finished. Ezra found Katie to bid her goodbye and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll see you Sunday!" he said cheerfully before departing.

Oliver observed their interaction, and his eyes narrowed. "I didn't know you and Gilder were friends."

She shrugged. "Not exactly friends, but he is teaching me how to ice skate on Sunday."

"Alone? Or with others?'

"Just the two of us," she said.

"What, like a date?" he asked, surprise tinging his voice.

"Yes, like a date. Is it so preposterous that I could have a date?" she said.

He quickly backtracked. "No, of course not. I didn't mean...I was just surprised...I never thought you and Gilder..."

"Relax," she said, smirking. "It's just one date. He knows I'm leaving in a few weeks anyways.

"Right. That," he mumbled. "Right."

"I'm not the only one leaving, I might add. Bea seemed disappointed to hear about your imminent departure."

Oliver's head snapped up. "Did she?"

"That's exactly what she told me. Not that we talked very long."

She read his face carefully, searching it for signs of emotion, but he maintained a surprisingly good poker face. "Interesting," he said, which also provided no further information.

"I never knew you dated her. I'm surprised, I guess. I thought at least if you didn't tell me, the tabloids would."

"Well, you were in St. Mungo's when the whole thing began, so you can be forgiven for missing the headline of Witch Weekly or Charmed," he said. "As for me not telling you, it never really came up." He seemed uncomfortable. "I thought she was staying in Brazil permanently when she didn't come back in May."

"It's too bad then, that we're leaving so soon," she said, echoing Bea.

"It is what it is," he said, shrugging.

"Katie, we're leaving," called out a rather impatient sounding Angelina.

Both Katie and Oliver turned to see Angelina standing near the doorway, only a few feet away from Kira and Alicia who were in the midst of a rather intimate-looking conversation. Angelina's tolerance was rapidly, visibly thinning.

"I'd better go," she said.

"Seems like it," he said. "By the way, how long have they been together?"

She sighed. "It's a long story. I'll tell you another time."

Without thinking, she wrapped him in tight embrace. She often hugged her friends, but outside of Quidditch celebrations, she'd never been very physically affectionate with Oliver. He stiffened in surprise, but quickly relaxed and pulled her in tighter.

"I'll see you soon," he murmured, his breath tickling her neck.

She nodded, and after a few more seconds, pulled away. As she followed Angelina and Alicia out the door, she glanced behind. Oliver's gaze was still upon her.

On Sunday, Katie arrived at the Leaky Cauldron several minutes early for her outing with Ezra, feeling rather proud of that particular accomplishment. Predictably, the moment Angelina discovered she had a date, she'd swooped in and sorted through nearly every item of clothing Katie owned to find the perfect outfit. Then came the hair and makeup, and at that point, Katie was congratulating herself on the decision to lie about the start time of her date. She'd told Angelina they were supposed to meet at quarter to one, and those fifteen minutes proved to be crucial buffer time.

At exactly one o'clock (and what was it with Quidditch players and their impeccable timing?) Ezra marched into the pub. She spotted him easily, as he towered over nearly everyone else in the room, especially Tom, the rather diminutive landlord and barkeeper who greeted him. She waved to him, and the moment he laid his eyes on her, his face broke into an easy smile.

"Katherine, dearest," he said by way of greeting, and she rolled her eyes.

"It's only a first date, Ezra," she warned him. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, though his smile broadened. His gaze took in her appearance, and he whistled appreciatively. "You look fantastic."

She blushed despite herself, and filed a mental note to thank Angelina for her advice. She still wore jeans, but the ruffled red chemise was definitely a step above her usual dress, and Angelina had snatched it from the bottom of a large pile of clothing Katie hadn't touched in months. "You don't look too bad yourself," she said in return, and it wasn't a lie. His tight-fitting shirt stretched across an impressive set of muscles, and she understood why even professional Quidditch players like Fridgeir might dread playing him. Marcus Flint never stood a chance.

"I do try on occasion," he said. "Now, what do you say we head over to the rink? I imagine you'll need to rent skates." She noticed he carried a drawstring bag, and something vaguely shoe-shaped bulged at the sides. "Have you taken the tube before?"

"I am muggleborn, so yes," she said.

"Perfect," he said. "You wouldn't believe how many of my friends are still completely inept at navigating around muggle London. Just follow me."

Ezra led her out of Leaky Cauldron and onto the streets of London. Fortunately the nearest tube stop wasn't far, and they only had to change lines once, so they arrived at the correct stop within half an hour. Ezra filled the time by giving her advice on skating technique, venturing into more detail than she would ever need. Frankly, she would consider the afternoon a success if she only fell a few times.

The skating rink was surprisingly empty for a Sunday afternoon. As Ezra led her to the rental booth, she observed the people around her. People of all ages and ability levls skated around the rink; some small children zoomed around the ice, weaving in and out of the adults who skated at a much more cautious pace. One of the adults, a man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, stumbled fell as she watched. The woman he was with laughed and held out a hand to pull him up again.

Her own first steps in skates were stumbling. Even on the cushy floor, she still wobbled as she balanced herself on top of the blades. The moment she stepped onto the ice itself, she slipped against the smooth surface and would have fallen flat on her ass if Ezra weren't right behind waiting to catch her. As he held her, she understood why he had suggested this as a first date. She would literally be falling into his arms.

To his credit, Ezra maintained his composure as she clutched the boards around the rink for balance. As another small child sped past her, moving along the ice with infuriating ease, she laughed a little. "I'm a disaster," she declared, shuffling forward hesitantly on the skates.

"You're like every beginner there is," he assured her. "Let go of the boards and move slowly. You'll pick it up quickly enough."

She was skeptical, but she released the boards and resumed her slow skate around the edge. As she moved forward, Ezra moved in front of her but skated backwards so that he was still facing her. He glided easily, glancing behind from to time to time to ensure he wouldn't run into anyone. Nearly everyone else was skating faster than them, so he didn't have much to worry about.

By her fifth lap around the rink, her confidence had grown enough to allow her to maintain a steady pace. Ezra smiled encouragingly and increased his own speed, urging her to follow him. She began to genuinely enjoy herself as she skated, and she settled into a rhythm. This isn't so bad, she thought to herself.

Then Ezra, spotting a kid fallen on the ice before him, abruptly skidded to a standstill, and she realized she had no way of stopping and very little idea of how to turn quickly. "Ezra!" she cried out and she slid forward, unable to brake, and his eyes widened in surprise just before she came crashing into him.

They both fell to the ground with a loud thud. His body cushioned her landing, but he had no such luck. He smacked against the ice and the two of them slid several feet before friction finally halted their progress. She lay there for a couple moments, processing her situation. Then she realized he hadn't moved.

"Ezra," she said quietly. No response. "Ezra," she repeated, worry tinging her voice.

He groaned softly and threw an arm over his face. "What?"

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Only my pride," he groused. "I haven't fallen like that in ages." He began to sit up, and she realized she was still lying on top of him. She scrambled off to allow him to fully sit. He shook his arms out and prodded the back of his head cautiously with his hand.

"You sure you're okay?" she said, noting how he winced as his fingers made contact with his head.

"A little bruised, I think," he admitted. "I know how to fall, but I didn't have time to prepare myself. Plus, it's harder to control your descent when you have a person falling with you."

"I'm so sorry," she said apologetically. "If you want to stop and go home or something, I completely understand. I can't believe-"

"Katie," he said with a vaguely amused expression. "Don't worry about it. I've had much, much worse, and really, my pride is the only victim of this situation. I can handle it."

She smiled cautiously. "If you're sure."

"Yes, I'm sure," he reassured her A mischievous twinkle entered his eyes. "Besides, it's not every day that a girl literally trips over herself to get closer to me."

She swatted him gently. "I only did that because I didn't know how to stop, which I blame you for. All that talk about skating technique, and you didn't mention it."

"Ah, well," he said grinning. "I think we're about even then, don't you?"

Around them, people skated uninterrupted. They simply sidestepped Ezra and Katie, although several people shot them curious looks. "You need help?" asked one woman.

Ezra waved aside her concern. "We're fine," he assured her, and the woman skated away. He maneuvered himself into standing once more and held a hand out. "Let's keep skating. I'll show you how to stop."

She grabbed his hand and he pulled her up. She slipped on the ice, but he'd grounded himself and they both kept their footing. Somehow, she found herself surrounded by Ezra's arms as they held her steady. He towered a full head above her, so she needed to tilt her head back to see his face. When she looked up, his face bore a much more serious expression.

"You know, there is one way you could make me feel better," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh, really?" she said.

"I've always heard that the best thing for a bruised ego is a kiss from a beautiful girl," he said with such sincerity she almost believed him.

"I think your ego is still intact," she said dryly. "That being said..." She wrapped her hands around his neck to pull him down so she could place a chaste kiss on his lips. It was short and sweet, shortened even further by the whistling coming their way.

"Save some for the rest of us, Ezzie," shouted a man skating by them. Ezra pulled away to glare at the man. "Fuck off, Cutler," he replied angrily.

"Original," said Cutler. He turned around in the middle of the rink and skated back to them, skidding to a halt. "That the best they do in Canada?"

"We usually follow it up with our fists, so it tends to do the trick," he said cheerfully. "I wouldn't want to embarrass you right now, though."

Cutler snorted. "Yeah, you wish. We've booked the rink for a game in half an hour if you want to join in, really prove yourself." He nodded at Katie. "You could join too, if you wanted."

"I think I'll pass," said Katie quickly, eager to avoid any further humiliation. I've never seen hockey before, though, so I wouldn't mind watching."

Cutler grinned. "What do you say, Ezzie?"

"I say you better have some ice in the locker room because you're going to need it after I'm through."

"I'll tell the others you're joining. Should be a good game," he said happily and skated easily away.

Ezra turned to Katie. "I hope you don't mind. If they've got the rink booked, we'd have to stop anyways."

She shook her head. "It's not a problem at all. Maybe you could explain some of the rules to me first so I don't seem like a complete idiot."

They resumed their skating, and Ezra showed her the snowplow technique of stopping. It was hardly elegant, but it worked and seemed less likely to result in a fall than the other skidding method. He spent the rest of their time on the ice explaining the rules of hockey before excusing himself to go to the locker room to put on pads.

"You wear pads?" she said, wrinkling her nose. "I thought hockey was supposed to be rougher than Quidditch. If you're wearing protection..."

"Quidditch doesn't normally involved as much full body checking as hockey," explained Ezra. "You'll see."

Some of the staff cleared the rink and placed two small nets on either end of the rink. Ezra had explained the purpose behind each of the lines on the rink as well as all of the equipment, so when a group of more than a dozen people skated onto the ice, she understood what each person was doing. She spotted Ezra easily in one of the defense positions, and given that the beater position corresponded most with defense, she was not surprised. He waved at her and smiled, revealing a mouth guard covering his teeth. Then the game began.

She'd never seen a game of hockey before and so had no point of comparison, but she recognized that all of these people were at least decent skaters, better than the majority of people who had occupied the rink not too long ago. The teams appeared to be balanced so that the better players were distributed evenly. Ezra definitely fit into the category of "better player". Not only was he an excellent skater (he must have been moving painfully slowly to accommodate her earlier) but he also outweighed every other person by a not insignificant amount. She guessed that none of the other people were professional athletes like him, and while all were in good shape, they couldn't compete with a man who spent hours and hours training six days a week. He also played ruthlessly, and she winced more than once as he slammed another player against the boards.

After the first period, everyone shuffled off the rink. She found Ezra gulping down water from a massive water bottle. "You're pretty good," she told him.

He laughed. "In comparison to these guys, sure. This is just an informal group, and people play when they can. Pit me against an actual hockey player, and I wouldn't stand a chance."

"Are actual hockey players as big as you?" she asks skeptically.

He chugs the last of his water before responding. "Some of them, but it's not all about size and strength. My puckwork isn't that great, used to be much better when I played more often. Now, well, I spend most of time playing a different sport."

"Speaking of which," she said, lowering her voice, "are any of these people wizards? Do they know what you do?"

He shook his head. "I suppose it's possible one of them is hiding like me, but I doubt it. I tell everyone I'm a personal trainer-I have the knowledge and body to back it up, plus it's not high profile. Some wizards in Canada play hockey, but I've yet to meet another one on this side of the pond. There aren't even many muggles who play in England."

"So, you just lie to them?" she asked.

"Well, short of breaking the Statute of Secrecy, what can I do? It's not that bad. It's no worse than talking to cousins back home. I've even gone out for drinks with a few of the guys-Cutler, Perry, Wesley. We have a good time, and I'm careful."

"It must be weird, though, having to hide so much."

"Everybody's hiding something," he said, frowning. "I just hide a bit more around here." Someone called for the group to move back onto the ice, so he shrugged. "I'm on again. See you on the other side."

As he skated off, she considered his words. In truth, while of course she didn't care about anyone's blood status, the idea of being a half-blood confused her. Because the statute, witches and wizards were only allowed to inform their non-magical immediate family about their life. Even while dating, they had to lie, although once engaged, they were allowed to reveal the truth. She knew some people broke the rules and told their partners before engagement, but they still needed to lie for a long time. Even once they knew the truth, it could be difficult to coexist. Few witches or wizards knew how to drive, and muggles couldn't use magical forms of transportation. Leanne was a half-blood, and she'd told Katie about the arguments her parents had when her Hogwarts letter arrived. Her mother, a muggle, believed Leanne should receive a muggle education as well as magical one and had fought with both her husband and Dumbledore to include some elements of non-magical education in the curriculum such as math and science. In the end, they compromised by sending Leanne to summer school. While Katie's parents were both muggles and valued a muggle education, they had little knowledge of the wizarding world and so were unable to compare the benefits of each. For Katie's part, she fell out of touch with her friends from primary school and interacted almost exclusively with other witches and wizards. For a time last year she'd worked as a waitress, but she'd been wary of new friendships while Voldemort and the Ministry were still ruthlessly tracking down every muggleborn they could find.

Katie watched the second and third periods more pensively. She observed the good-natured friendship between Ezra and Cutler and several others she didn't know, and she wondered if any of them suspected how much Ezra hid from them. She thought about Charlie and his strong belief that the magical and non-magical should not mix, lest a muggle go searching for danger they could never defeat. It seemed reasonable, but then again, she wondered if this was reasonable, this hiding from friends. The issue of integration was more complicated than she had initially assumed.

She'd been looking into specifics about the people involved in Oliver's attack, but perhaps she needed to look further into the history of integration movements. Nothing existed in a vacuum, and no idea was entirely new. Assuming the attackers were involved in a violent, anti-muggle integrationist movement, they would have drawn on previous movements, and understanding them would provide better insight into a potential present day organization.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen and the piece of parchment she always kept on her person in the hope that one day it would glow with warmth. So far, it had remained cool and unremarkable, no different than an ordinary piece of paper. No longer. She was done waiting for Igor to initiate their conversation.

It's Marianne, she wrote. I have more questions for you.

The ink sat on the page, damp and glossy, until suddenly it vanished. Words appeared on the page in a messy scrawl that was barely legible.

I am visiting our mutual friend tomorrow. We talk then.

The words lingered for several moments before disappearing. Tomorrow evening then.

"Katie, Katie!" called Ezra as he skated towards her, eyes bright and cheeks red. "Game's over now. What did you think?"

She must have missed the final moments of the game. "If this is how you grew up, it explains a lot," she said.

He grinned. "Yeah, suppose so." He noticed the piece of parchment sitting in her hand. "What's that about?" he asked.

She plastered a smile on her face. "Nothing, just thought of an idea for a radio piece."

"Great," he said. "I'll get changed out of these pads, and then what do you say you try another few laps around the rink?"

"Sounds good to me," she said, and he skated off towards the locker rooms. She folded away the piece of parchment, tucking it into her jacket pocket. Her fingers clutched the paper as if hoping it would glow once more.

Everyone kept something hidden, Ezra had said, and Katie was no exception.