Practice progressed as usual. Alicia and I would arrive (late) and put our robes on. We then did passing drills, shooting drills and "sprinting."

I fail to understand how someone like Oliver Wood stays so fit from sitting on a broom. Honestly, there is no running, no nothing really. You just sit on the broom and sort of "will" it to move the way you want it to.

Before this summer, I used to fence and that was my second sport. I used to go to camps every summer. I got so good that Danton never had a chance against me. But when Mum thought that I was old enough and responsible enough to get a job, Dad found me a job at the Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley.

At the end of practice I would walk up to the common room with Alicia and Angelina. Oliver would stay after and write in his Quidditch Practice Journal and then would come up later.

The whole Gryffindor team sat together at the Slytherin V. Ravenclaw match, with the addition of Penelope Clearwater, Percy Weasley, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Oliver wanted Slytherin to win so that we would be second place, but it was still rather sad to see Draco Malfoy beat out Cho Chang for the snitch. I'll tell you, it was the scariest thing I have ever seen, seeing Oliver actually cheer for Slytherin! I mean, I can see his motive, but honestly!

When I heard him say, "Score Slytherin! Take it Flint, its open!" I seriously got up and moved myself to sit next to Penelope.

When the game was over, Oliver came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Wood! People can see!" I said.

He frowned. "Who cares?"

"Whatever...I can't believe you cheered for Marcus Flint!"

"What? Now if we beat Ravenclaw, which we will, then we get to play Slytherin, and win, and get the Cup! Isn't that how you want to win it? Against Slytherin?" He asked, letting me go, and now walking next to me.

"Well, sure..." I said.

"Five will be enough, don't you think?" he said.

I looked up to him crossing my arms. "Five?"

"Practices."

"Five practices...?"

"A week."

I stopped in the middle of the hall. "Five practices a week, Wood?"

He grinned. "I knew you'd agree. See you," he said. He kissed me on my cheek and walked away.

I turned to Alicia whose eyes seemed to be popping out of her head. "Five....practices...a...WEEK?" she said.

I smiled uneasily. "I guess so..."

"Katie, you've got to stop him!" she pleaded.

"Why me?" I asked.

"You're a bit dim sometimes you know that? You're his GIRLFRIEND!" she said.

"And?"

"He's so wrapped around your finger!" she said.

I laughed. "Ha! Not about Quidditch! Are you kidding?"

"Yeah, well he is a little obsessed with Quidditch..." she said, conceding to me.

"Trust me, Al. He won't budge," I said and I resumed walking.

Then Oliver was off again on his tyranny. Five practices a week. Five! Not the normal three, but five! Now everyone on the team had one night to do all of their homework.

And although I spent all my time practicing Quidditch with the team, and Oliver, I never saw him. Does that make sense? If it doesn't it should.

So one day after practice, I walked right up to him and took his little practice journal away from him and set it down on the bench.

"Er, I was kind of writing in that," he said, looking confused.

I sat down next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Oliver, I'm stressed!" I whined.

He looked extremely confused.

"Five a week! One night to do homework, and we never see each other anymore..."

"I know it's tough," he said. "But it'll all be worth it when we win the Cup, right? It'll look really great to the Puddlemere scouts, and for when you try out for a team, too, Kates!"

I stood up. "Oliver, I'm not going to be playing Quidditch as a career!"

"Well why not? I keep telling you, you're a really awesome Chaser!"

"Sure, I'd love to play as a career...but do you know how hard it is for a girl to get on a professional team? Besides! No one's scouting me, and there are three times as many Chasers out there as there are Keepers..."

Then as I looked at Oliver's concerned and confused face, I realized that Quidditch and getting on to Puddlemere was all that mattered to him. Or at least it seemed that way. Typical, typical boy.

It began to seem as if Oliver was two different personalities. There was one Oliver, whom was shall call Evil Oliver, that really got on my nerves. Oliver is Evil when he is stubborn and stupid and is a mean Quidditch dictator who insists on waking six innocent people up from a deep, pleasant sleep (not to mention nice dreams concerning Aden Ryan of the Irish National team...who is also a keeper. Coincidence?)

Sweet Oliver is well...sweet. Basically, just everything else. Sweet Oliver insists on paying for your butterbeer, and buying you a ridiculously expensive necklace (all because you had your heart set on it the moment you saw it.) Sweet Oliver is the boy who confuses you when he speaks to you because he can't find the right words to say.

Evil Oliver is back. He has become a complete tyrant. He sounds eerily like my mother when he tells me that I ought to go to bed. Normally, this would have been sweet if weren't for his following statement: "I can't have anyone falling asleep in practice tomorrow!"

Whenever he talked to me, it was always, always about a certain play that he wanted to beat the life out of in the days practice so we knew it inside and out.

I walked into the common room and Oliver had been sitting across from Harry, who had been sitting in an arm chair while Oliver sat on the coffee table across from him.

Not that I was eavesdropping, but I heard Oliver speaking emphatically. "Bad news, Harry. I've just been to see Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt. She - er- got a bit shirty with me. Told me I'd got my priorities wrong. ["No kidding?" I muttered.] Seemed to think I cared more about winning the Cup than I do about you staying alive. [Ha, and why am I not surprised?] Just because I told her I didn't care if it threw you off, as long as you caught the Snitch first. [What a prat!] Honestly, the way she was yelling at me...you'd think I'd said something terrible...Then I asked her how much longer she was going to keep it..." He put on a voice that sounded too much like McGonagall for comfort. " ' As long as necessary, Wood'...I reckon it's time you ordered a new broom Harry. There's an order form at the back of 'Which Broomstick'...you could get a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, like Malfoy's got"

And all the while I am thinking, 'Duh, Wood?'

"I'm not buying anything that Malfoy thinks is good," said Harry flatly.

Oliver went back to his seat. As I passed him, I said, "Hi."

I heard him grunt and he didn't look up. What the hell?

I stopped and turned around and said, harshly, "Excuse me?"

He looked up and frowned. "What?"

"You grunted, Oliver."

"What?"

"A grunt is not a substitute for 'hello', Wood." I said with my hands on my hips.

"What is your problem, Katie?"

I glared harder. "My problem? What is your problem?"

"My problem is that I have all this homework to do tonight, and only one night to do it, and you're bothering me about grunting of all things."

"You can't spare a second to say 'hello' to me? And may I remind you Wood, that it's your own fault that you've only got one night to do your homework?"

I turned on my heel and walked away, but before I could set foot on the stairs, there was a firm grip on my shoulder. Oliver spun me around and he was slightly frowning.

I glared up at him. "What now?" I would have gone on about how nice he looked if I weren't so angry.

"We need to talk," he said flatly.

On top of my anger, my stomach disappeared. Those are possibly the four worst words in the English language when said together. Even worse than 'Avada Kedavra.'

"Fine" I said, not looking into his eyes.

He guided me to two empty arm chairs stationed across from each other. I slumped down in the chair, and crossed my arms, still avoiding his eyes.

He started. "Maybe - maybe this isn't a good idea. I mean, maybe, we should cool it for a while..."

I scoffed, harshly, "Cool it?"

"Yeah, I mean, I just don't have time for a girlfriend right now."

When he said that, I bit my bottom lip hard, and clenched my eyes shut tightly. Although I already new the answer, I asked him, "and that is because?"

"Because of Quidditch. Sorry, but I think that it would be better for the both of us. No distractions you know? Then we can really concentrate on the game."

"I see," I said blankly.

I knew it! I KNEW it! I knew he cared more about Quidditch! I can't believe I let myself get involved in this! Ugh...this really hurts.

"I'm glad we have an agreement," he said grinning. How I wanted to slap that grin off of his face.

I stood up. "Oh, I don't agree. But I don't need a prat like you distracting me from my life. And by life, I don't mean Quidditch. There are other things in life besides Quidditch."

He stared blankly at me and I headed toward the stairs but then I decided to walk around the school.

I passed Percy in the hallway and he stopped me. "Katie, are you OK?" he asked me.

I smiled at him, acting as if nothing was wrong. "Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged and said, "Nothing, nothing...You just looked bothered."

"See you later, Percy," I said and took off down the stairs.

I didn't really know quite where I was headed, but I just didn't want to go back up to the tower. Not yet, at least.

I wanted to kick something. I wanted to kick myself. How could he think that Quidditch was more important than me?

I went into the Great Hall where some students sat doing homework, while others played Chess with each other.

The head table was empty and I had always wanted to sit in Dumbledore's golden chair. There were no teachers in the Hall, so I took my chances and sat in the chair with purple cushions.

As I sat there, I felt a stupid, little tear roll down my cheek. I reached up and rubbed it away.

I heard a clanking sound as someone stepped up on to the platform where the high table was. I looked up and Cedric Diggory was looking down at me.

"Um, Miss? No students are allowed to sit in the headmasters chair...Katie Bell?" He asked, recognizing my face.

I stood up and hurriedly wiped my eyes. "Cedric Diggory, you know my name?" I asked, laughing...or the best I could do for how I was feeling.

"Yeah! You know mine, I see," he said smiling at me. He really was the strong silent type.

"How could I not know you? You won against us, and then nobly tried to get a rematch," I said to him.

He looked down and shuffled his feet. "I still say it wasn't fair."

"Do you want to switch to Gryffindor? I think we could use a new captain," I said randomly, thinking of how I hate Oliver.

Cedric gave me a puzzled look, "What about Oliver Wood?"

I almost cringed. "He's a tyrant."

"I thought - "Cedric started."Oh, wait! Did something happen?"

"Yes, he's power hungry and selfish and thinks a grunt passes as a hello..." I said with my arms crossed. As I said this Cedric draped a strong arm over my back and shoulder and walked me off the platform where the head table was. But I didn't really object.

"A grunt?" he asked, confused.

"A grunt...like a sound?" I turned my head to look at him. He had very clear blue eyes.

Cedric grunted. "Mhm! I see. Well that's not right. A lovely lady like you deserves a bow and a kiss on the hand."

He took his arm of my shoulder and took my hand, bowed to me and kissed my hand. I had been smiling very widely; until I remembered that time Oliver had kissed my hand. But, I pushed that thought out of my head.

"Thank you for demonstrating, kind sir," I said. I must admit that this must have sounded extremely cheesy, but Cedric grinned at me any how.

He walked with me until we reached the Grand Staircase. As I climbed up to the first floor, Cedric called out. "Katie, sit tight. He'll see the error of his ways and he'll come crawling back to you. Just you wait."

I forced a smile at him and waved. I climbed up the rest of the stairs careful to skip the trick stairs.

When I got back to the common room, Oliver was gone, but his Puddlemere brochure remained on a coffee table. I ignored my urge to toss it into the fire.

As I climbed into bed, rather proud of myself that I hadn't lost it and started crying, I thought of what Cedric said. I half hoped that Oliver would, come crawling back, and the other half just wanted to get through with the bloody season and year so I wouldn't have to deal with him.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Wasn't Oliver such an idiot?!?!?

Flames will be used to.I dunno. Make a fire?

Resources: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling, copyright 1999, Arthur A. Levine Book, Scholastic Press. pages 244, 245, "The Patronus"

I need a review, even if you hate me! Ahhhh! I get so scared whenever I write that something goes askew! But I just don't want it to be an."I love you, You love me, it's perfect and we live happily ever after."

Disclaimer: oops! Almost forgot it! I'm NOT jk rowling.

Remember to read "Something About Katie" chapter 4!