Visiting Hours
"I'm here to see Katie Bell?"
The harried St. Mungo's receptionist looked up at Oliver and did a double take. He watched with something akin to amusement as the middle-aged woman flattened down her hair and flashed him a brilliant smile. Seeing a professional Quidditch player tended to do that to people.
"Oliver Wood," she purred. "What can I do you for?"
"I'm here to see Katie Bell," he repeated.
She frowned. "That your girlfriend, then? Thought you was single, I did." Although she was attempting to sound casual, Oliver could tell there was a lot riding on his reply.
He tried not to grit his teeth. It was rare that he got out of practice early, and his valuable free time was slowly being eaten up by this ditzy receptionist who seemed to care more about his relationship status than about doing her job.
"No, she's my friend," he said, more aggressively than he had intended.
The receptionist looked quite relieved, as Oliver rather suspected she might.
"Right, then, Mr. Wood," she said briskly. "Let's have a look-see, shall we?"
Oliver gave a terse nod.
A moment later, she had filled him in on Katie's location, and he made his way past several Healers in their lime green robes, as well as a witch whose skin was a violent shade of blue and a wizard who seemed to be making mooing sounds. In what seemed like no time at all, he arrived at the proper room and knocked on the door.
"Come in!" Katie called.
Oliver quickly conjured up a bouquet of cheerful yellow tulips before entering the room. "Hey, you. I brought flowers."
She smiled at him from her hospital bed. She looked so much smaller than he remembered, and paler, too. "Thanks, Oliver. You can put them—ah." While she had been speaking, Oliver had taken the liberty of producing a vase for them, which he then placed on the windowsill near the bed.
He gestured to the lone chair in the room. "May I?"
"Of course." The brunette leaned forward. "How's Puddlemere United treating you?"
"Fine," Oliver shrugged. "I'm still reserve Keeper for now, but fingers crossed they'll move me up next season."
"Good luck," Katie said, giving him an encouraging smile. "They'd be nuts not to—you're a fantastic Keeper."
Already, Oliver was beginning to realize just how much he missed having friends to cheer on his successes. Since graduating, he'd been so caught up in the world of professional Quidditch that he hadn't left much time for companions, old or new.
A quick glance at the clock on the wall told him that he still had a few hours of visiting time left. He intended to make the most of it.
"Right, thanks," he said, leaning back and propping his feet—trainers and all—up on his friend's bed. "So how are you doing these days, Katie? Tell me everything."
WC: 482