AUTHOR'S NOTE – PLEASE READ: Hi! I started writing this story under the same title years ago, under a different pen name. I can no longer access that pen name, so I'm continuing this story here. The first eight chapters are from the original. They're largely unchanged, except for a few typos, poorly written sentences and senseless details I just couldn't overlook. Enjoy reading my younger self's literary attempts, and enjoy the new chapters.

A few things you should note:

-This would be considered AU, because I kept Fred Weasley alive.
-This story alternates between Katie and Oliver's point of views.
-Katie's age is different from the books and movies. In this story, she's just a year younger than Oliver.
-You'll notice some pop culture references that would be considered part of the Muggle world. I'm leaving them in, because it's amusing to see what my younger self wrote. It also seems to add some comedic elements to the story.
-Enjoy!

Katie's point of view

"Oliver James Wood!"

I stormed out of the bathroom, my hair dripping wet and my toothbrush in my hand, furious. My roommate looked up at me from the couch. "What?" he asked, staring at me.

"You used my toothbrush!" I accused, waving my pink toothbrush at him aggressively.

He shrugged. "So?"

"So," I said. "Why don't you use your own?"

He shrugged again. "I couldn't find it."

I groaned and glared at him. "Stop using my stuff!"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Katers, but I do believe you're wearing my shirt right now, as we speak."

I looked down at myself in dismay, as I realized that, indeed, I was wearing one of Oliver's old quidditch shirts. "Well, this is different," I said defensively. "Because I don't put your shirt in my mouth!"

He smiled slightly, to my displeasure. "Oh, come on," he said. "You're acting like you're five."

"Well maybe I am!" I snapped. I wheeled around and stormed back into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Oliver and I have been living together for the past three years, but we've been best friends since I could talk. We grew up living next to each other and our families came to be good friends. We've had our share of bickering, but for the most part, we get along really well. I moved in with him after graduating from Hogwarts and the rest is history.

About 15 minutes later, I re-emerged from the bathroom, still sulking slightly. "What time is your match tonight?" I asked.

"Seven," Oliver replied. "You coming?"

"I don't know," I answered. "Maybe. Depends on whether I can get off work or not." I checked my watch. "Anyways, I'll see you later." I pulled on my jacket and hurried out the door.

The walk to St. Mungo's Hospital from our flat is a short one. I stop by the same little café every day and order a cappuccino and a muffin, then pass by the park until I reach the hospital. I entered and quickly made my way to the staff lounge, where my co-workers were pulling on their work robes. "Morning," I mumbled, shoving my purse into my locker.

"Hey Katie," came the reply. I pulled on my work robes and pulled my hair up into a messy ponytail.

"Is Katie here yet?" I looked up and smiled at my fiancé, Chris, who had appeared in the doorway. "Ah, there you are," he said, putting an arm around me and kissing me. "So, I need you to remind me, even though I've asked you about twenty times, what color are your bridesmaid dresses?"

"Light blue," I replied.

"Gotcha," he said, kissing me on the cheek. "I won't forget this time, I promise."

I smiled lightly and crossed the room, where there was a large board on the wall. I found my name and checked my assignments. "Pixie attack? That's the third time this week."

"Better than Bowtruckles," Chris muttered. "I suppose I'd better go." He kissed me on the cheek again and left the room.

"So when's the wedding date again?" I turned around to look at Olivia Foster, another one of my co-workers, who was still in the room getting dressed.

"June 16th," I replied. "Are you coming?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. I'm still not sure."

I mentally rolled my eyes. Why did I invite her in the first place? Oh wait, I didn't. Chris did. "Well, I hope you can come," I said politely and left the room.

I hurried down the corridor to room 407, where a woman was sitting up in bed, her hand bandaged. "Hello, Miss…" I checked my clipboard. "…Berkely. I'm Katie Bell. I'll be taking care of you today."

The woman looked up at me and smiled. "Good, because this hurts like hell." She lifted up her arm and I smiled.

"Well let me take a look at it." I removed the bandages and studied her hand. "The good news," I said. "Is that it's not too deep. Pixies don't generally have very long teeth. However, you are at risk for an infection. Unfortunately, there is no spell to prevent Pixie infection, so I need to give you some medicine. I'll get that for you and then I think you'll be free to go." I left the room and returned after a trip to the Medicine and Antidotes room. I handed a little bottle of potion to Miss Berkely. "You should take two spoonfuls of this twice per day. I'm sorry to say it tastes awful, but it'll prevent Pixie infection and relieve some of the pain. If you experience any more pain, or your skin begins to burn after 24 hours, come back and see us." The woman thanked me and I handed her some paperwork as she left the room.

As the workday ended, I collapsed on the bench in the staff room and closed my eyes. "Rough day?"

I cracked an eye open to see Chris standing over me.

"You wouldn't believe," I muttered. "I mean honestly, who tries to swordfight with a Hippogriff?"

Chris laughed and sat next to me. "I didn't get anything much better. That Bowtruckle attack was brutal."

I sighed and rested my head in his lap. "If we ever meet in our next life, remind me to become a gold digger and marry a rich man so I won't need to work."

Chris kissed me on the forehead. "I'll do that." He played with my hair. "So, do you want to go get something to eat?"

I shook my head. "No, I can't. I promised Oliver I'd go to his match if I got off in time."

Chris sighed. "All right. But don't forget about our date Friday night."

I smiled up at him. "Of course I won't."

The stadium was loud as usual, and there were lights and movement everywhere as I took my usual seat. The quidditch players were still warming up for the match and I waved at Oliver, who glanced at me and waved back. This had sort of become our weekly ritual. I'd always sit in the same seat, in the front row, right behind the Puddlemere goal posts. I'd wave to Oliver, who would wave back, much to the dismay of the teen girls who liked to crowd the area and giggle at Oliver's every movement during the matches.

"Oh my god!" I heard one of them say. "He's waving at me!"

"No, he's not," another one said. "He's waving at that girl there." I could just imagine her pointing at the back of my head.

"Is that Katie Bell? The girl that's always in the paper with him?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"But they're not really dating, are they?"

"I heard she's engaged."

"To Oliver?"

"No."

"Oh… Good."

"Shh! Don't let her hear you!"

I rolled my eyes and the match started.

Puddlemere United ended up winning rather quickly, as Oliver made a trio of saves before the Puddlemere Seeker managed to grab the Golden Snitch after some back-and-forth between the teams' Chasers.

As Oliver emerged from the locker rooms after the match, I jumped on his back. "Great match," I said. "That last save was spectacular."

"Thanks," he grunted, holding onto my legs. "How was work?"

"Lame, stressful, chaotic," I replied.

"Hmm, sounds like you," he said. I kicked him in the side and he grunted again. "Do you want to get something to eat?" he asked.

"Yeah, but can we stop at the store first?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied. "What do you need?"

"You need a toothbrush."

He sighed. "Fine. But can I get a pink one like yours?"

I didn't reply.

Repetition is something that occurs to all of us. We all have our little daily rituals and habits that come natural to us. Sure, sometimes these rituals are interrupted, but for the most part, they become part of our daily lives.

Me? Every morning, I wake up, get dressed, go to work. It's like a never-ending cycle and while I enjoy my work as a Healer, it's not the dream I'd envisioned for myself. That's why I embrace the weekends with more enthusiasm than most people.

Chris and I have a weekly ritual of going to dinner and walking through the park on Friday nights.

As we walked, I shoved my hands in my coat pockets as a chilly wind swept past. "Cold?" Chris asked me. I nodded and he draped his jacket over my shoulders. "So, I was thinking," he said.

"Oh you were?"

He nodded and continued. "I was thinking that we should live on the other side of the city."

"What for?" I asked, turning to look at him.

"Well, I just think it'd be a nice change of scenery. We could live in an actual house over there," he said.

"But it's so much farther from the hospital," I noted.

"I suppose that's true," he said. "But just consider it, OK?"

I nodded. "I will."

"And besides," he continued, much to my dismay. "Won't it be nice to live in a house, instead of that flat with Oliver?"

I shrugged. "But I like my flat. It's home to me."

He slipped an arm around my waist as we left the park. "Well, just give it some thought."

It's no secret that Chris has always felt a bit threatened by Oliver, which strikes me as incredibly funny. I mean, I guess he has the right to be concerned, since I live with Oliver, but it's nothing like he thinks it is. Chris and I began dating about six months after I graduated from Hogwarts and moved in with Oliver. He proposed about a year ago, and our wedding is set for June.

"Well I've also been thinking," I said, making an attempt to lead the subject in a lighter direction. "And I was thinking we could honeymoon in Jamaica."

"Hmm, Jamaica?" he repeated as we approached my flat. "That sounds nice."

"Then Jamaica it is."

We both climbed the steps to the front door and he kissed me. "So I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," I replied. "I might be going to my parents' place. My mom and I still have a few more wedding minor details we want to get planned out."

He nodded. "Well stop by if you have the chance, OK?"

I nodded and kissed him.

"OK." We said goodnight and I went inside.

Oliver was sitting at the kitchen table, asleep. I smiled and prodded him awake. "Hey Ol," I whispered. "Wake up."

"Whassuhmatter?" he mumbled, looking up.

"I think you fell asleep," I answered, sitting in a chair across from him.

"Oh." He stared at me for a moment. "How was your date?"

"It was fine," I replied.

"That's good." We sat in silence and I studied him out of the corner of my eye.

So here is where I'll be completely honest. Oliver Wood is an incredibly good-looking man. I mean incredibly good-looking, like you wouldn't believe. The strange thing is, he doesn't date much. He doesn't date, he doesn't have girlfriends, he doesn't have "lady friends", he just… doesn't. Which is something I still can't quite figure out. Women literally throw themselves at him every day. He's Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor, but he just doesn't seem to have any interest in dating. Sometimes he goes out with his teammates and doesn't return for the night, so I have to assume he's out with women then, but he's never brought one back to our flat.

Oliver yawned and stood up. "I'm going to bed," he said.

I stood and jumped on his back. "Good, you can take me too."

"To my bed?" he asked, craning his neck to grin at me. I kicked him in the side and he yelped, much to my amusement. "Don't do that!" he demanded.

"Well don't be such a perv!"

"You're the one who told me to take you to bed," he said.

"To my bed," I defended.

"OK, we can go there if you'd prefer."

I made an attempt to kick him again, but he grabbed my leg and I fell off his back and hit the floor with a loud thump. "Ow!" I whined. He picked me up and began to carry me to my room. "I think my arm is broken," I complained. "You broke it."

"Well if you didn't kick me all the time, I wouldn't have had the need to," he retorted, tossing me on my bed. He turned around to leave and I tossed a pillow at the back of his head. He picked it up and hurled it at me. I screamed and covered my head as it bounced off my leg. "'Night Katers," he said, turning off the light.

"'Night."