Remind Me To Breathe
By Christelle
Legal Disclaimer: Last night I had a dream in which I was J.K. Rowling and had millions of dollars. Or pounds, whichever way you look at it. Britain's nice, but I'd have to come live back here in the USA in order to provide moral and financial support for my country. I can be very patriotic. Anyway, back to my dream – I was J.K. and for fun, resorted to hunting down fanfiction writers who failed to disclaim my characters. I was not one of the people I persecuted. In other words, I don't own anything.
Author's Note: At last, at long last! Yoohee. Things get more exciting this chapter... And there's a brief insight into Wood's character. Special thanks to sportzjunkie and Sparkles; you guys were my only two reviewers last chapter, so thanks. And now, without further ado – on with the fic!
Chapter Three
"Wrong Impression"
Calling out, calling out, haven't you wondered
Why I'm always alone when you're in my dreams
Calling out, calling out, haven't you wondered
Why you're finding it hard just looking at me.
~Natalie Imbruglia, "Wrong Impression"
A feeling of dread had been growing steadily in the pit of my stomach all through dinner as my fate drew ever nearer. By the end of the meal, I had a stomachache armed to the teeth.
"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing before you go to detention," Alicia suggested as we climbed the stairs.
"No," I moaned. "Snape'll kill me if I'm a split second late."
But the pain was so intense that I decided it was worth the risk, and when I appeared at her door for the second time that day, Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue and patted me on the head, which I hate.
"You really need to cut back on the stress, Miss Bell," she said sympathetically and she made me take a greenish blue liquid. I don't know what it was, but it tasted, quite frankly, like shit.
My horribly imaginative mind came up with hundreds of torture mechanisms Snape was bound to use on me as I raced out of the infirmary. Finally, I was outside the Potions classroom. The door was closed. Bad sign, very bad sign. There was nothing for it. I straightened my shirt, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
"So glad you decided to join us, Miss Bell," came Snape's supercilious voice.
I hadn't known this was going to be a group detention, but I should have known. He'd been looking for chances to pick people off in class for weeks. I wasn't surprised not to see any Slytherins. There did seem to be rather a lot of Gryffindors, though.
There also seemed to be a certain Gryffindor Quidditch team captain present.
Oh, God. Wood grinned companionably at me.
"Now that Miss Bell has finally decided to make an appearance, we are ready to begin. This detention will take place on the grounds."
Snape swept out of the room and the mulish crowd of assorted Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs followed him. Wood caught up with me.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Bell," he said. "And what did you do to make the Prick angry?"
"He insulted the team," I said stiffly. "I couldn't help it."
"What a coincidence," said Wood conversationally. "Same here. What'd he say to you?"
"Oh," I said, trying to gauge his reaction, "he said something about how we couldn't play in bad weather."
It was a good thing that we were outside by that time, because Wood swore so loudly that I felt sure half the school would have heard him. Luckily the ground and the trees swallowed the sound pretty effectively, but several people turned around to look at us anyhow.
"We can play in bad weather!" Wood said, outraged.
"I know," I said matter-of-factly. I didn't succeed in stopping his tirade.
"That is the most outrageous—" Wood began, and then he cut off abruptly, his jaw clenched.
"What was that, Mr. Wood?" Snape asked silkily, gliding along behind us almost like a dementor.
"Nothing," Wood said brusquely, and Snape smirked at us and swept on ahead.
I didn't ask Wood what had been said about the team that had led to his ending up in detention, for fear of inflaming him. Wood was busy glaring furiously at Snape's retreating back. He was so intent on the object of his rage that he didn't immediately notice when Snape stopped at the lake's edge and almost ran into the Potions master. I snatched his sleeve to stop him.
"Oh," Wood said, realizing his peril. "Thanks," he added. I let his arm go reluctantly; his muscles were very nice. I did not just think that. I did not just think that. Breathe, Bell, breathe.
I turned my attention to Snape, who was speaking.
"You will be collecting blood from the giant squid," said Snape, smirking at the lot of us.
So that was what he was so pleased about. What a pleasant detention. So tell me, Professor Snape, does the giant squid bite? Or sting? And are we supposed to dive into the water in the freezing weather and stick syringes into the squid, or will the squid come to us to have its blood removed?
I hadn't asked the questions aloud, but Snape answered the last one at once. He waved his wand, muttering something under his breath as he did so.
I waited, my breath on hold, but after a few minutes I let it out. If I'd held it any longer I would have fainted, and what a properly ladylike thing to do, especially in the presence of Oliver Wood. He'd probably have shouted obscenities at Snape for bringing bodily harm unto me and then carried me in his arms up to the castle, laying me down in my bed and resting his cool hand on my fevered brow.
No, wait, that's just my deepest darkest fantasy.
Well...
Maybe not the deepest, darkest. I have quite a few, you know.
But it is accurate to say that we waited in silence for at least five minutes before anything interesting happened at all.
And when it did, several of the more irritating girls screamed and retreated hastily, making sure their chests bounced as they did so. Sluts.
The surface of the lake rippled again, and then once more, more violently this time. Then a huge tentacle flopped onto the banks and a second year called Cho Chang shrieked like a banshee and leapt back.
The giant squid's great head bobbed gently in the icy water.
"Well?" barked Snape. "What are you waiting for? Divide into pairs and take a syringe and a bottle!"
I tensed, but Wood didn't seem to be going anywhere. "Shall we?" he inquired delicately, offering his arm in a posh impression of a gentleman.
"I thank you, kind sir," I said, turning my nose up haughtily as I laid my hand on his arm, and we walked to Snape. He narrowed his eyes at the two of us as we sniffed snottily at a pair of first years. We were obviously having far too much fun for his liking, but he thrust a bottle and a nasty-looking syringe at us and turned away.
The work was grimy and I didn't like it any more than anyone else did, but at least I wasn't jumping around and saying, "Eeeeewww" like the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs beside us.
"Three pairs to a tentacle, now, hurry it up," Snape said, sweeping along behind us as we worked. The squid didn't seem to mind having its limbs punched with large needles – I suppose the syringes were far too tiny for it to care at all.
I wiped my forehead with my hand and glanced up at the castle. Most of the lights were already out. I wondered how late it was.
It seemed like hours later that Snape finally said, "Screw the tops on the bottles as tightly as you can and wipe off the syringes. Bring them to me."
"I'll give him 'tight'," growled Wood, tightening his hold on the jar. I gave a weak chuckle for his pains and immersed the syringe in the water.
We trudged back to the castle and I thought longingly of my nice, warm bed. Only... seventeen hundred and fifty-three more paces to go.
And that was my last conscious thought before my body, wearied by an unbelievably long day, collapsed. I felt Wood catch me as I fell.
*
It's strange how ironic life can be sometimes.
I woke up to harsh sunlight on my face. Angelina was sitting on the edge of my bed. She grinned when she saw me awake. I sat up.
"What the hell?" I said groggily, rubbing my eyes.
"Tired, Kate?" inquired Angelina deviously.
"Yeah, why – wait," I said, as memories of the previous night flooded my poor overworked brain. "Last night – what happened?"
"You fainted," Angelina said. "At least, that's what Oliver said. The party was just starting to die down, too. It was past midnight, I expect. So Oliver carried you up here and put you in bed."
I gasped. Oh, God. "He didn't!" I said.
"Well, no," agreed Angelina. I glared at her. "Alicia and I did that. But he did carry you up to the common room. I'm sure he would have put you in bed if we weren't here to do it for him."
She grinned again and leapt off the foot of my bed. She threw the covers off, exposing me to the absolutely frigid air, so I shrieked and threw my pillow at her. She dodged it, of course, still laughing.
"Get up, you slugabed," she said. "I've had my shower and Alicia's having hers now. Hurry up and we'll catch breakfast before Quidditch. We have you to thank for that, actually – Oliver's moved it to ten o'clock when he saw how tired you were."
So I got up and waited impatiently while Alicia finished her shower, and then I had mine. When I'd finished, I dressed and we went into the common room, where Fred and George were just coming down the boys' staircase, looking artfully disheveled and yawning.
We sat down in five unoccupied seats at the Gryffindor table. Wood grinned at me and I jumped, not having realized he was sitting next to me.
"Tired, Bell?" he asked. I reached hungrily for the croissants.
"Yep," I said, grinning back. "How frightfully embarrassing. Thanks for playing the knight in shining armor, by the way."
Oh, my God. I really must be tired, to let myself speak my mind like that. I busied myself with buttering my roll.
"You're very welcome," Wood said. His voice sounded strange, but I didn't question it. It was probably just me.
I didn't want to look at Wood for fear of saying something stupid again, so I looked down the table the other way. Harry was sitting with his friend Hermione Granger. I wondered vaguely where the twins' younger brother was, but then I remembered George saying he was in the hospital wing with a supposed dog bite.
"Just think," Harry was saying in an undertone to Hermione, "tonight's the night. Those friends of Charlie's will take that thing away and we won't have to worry about it anymore."
He glanced up and caught me looking at him, so I smiled cheerily and said, "Ten o'clock, Harry. Duty calls."
And we all rose from our seats and made our way out to the pitch without even having to be told by Wood.
***(Wood's POV)***
My thoughts were anything but cheerful as I strode down to the Quidditch pitch. Bell obviously regards me as some sort of joke, the way she carries on. Knight in shining armor, indeed... It's hard on a bloke, I'll have you know. All this ridiculous hiding of emotions and game playing – it's driving me mad. Absolutely raving mad.
But the golden hoops and the fresh new spring grass beckoned and I kicked off with a vengeance from the ground, immersing myself and any feelings I might happen to harbor for one Katie Bell in the wonderful game of Quidditch. I let off a little steam by shouting at the Weasley twins to get moving.
I didn't have any new moves I particularly wanted to introduce at the start of the practice, so Fred and George let a Bludger out and chased it from earth to sky, Potter let out the Snitch and caught it (repeatedly), and the Chasers did their damnedest to get past me. They succeeded quite a few times, too. I blame Bell wholeheartedly for serving as a distraction.
We'd been flying for half an hour when I called break. Johnson and Spinnet shot me grateful looks, but Bell didn't spare me a glance. She'd been acting odd since the beginning of breakfast and I was getting rather tired of it. My brow furrowed angrily as I took a drag out of the water bottle.
My vision was limited to the sky as I drank, and it was thus out of the corner of my eye that I saw the Bludger whiz gleefully towards the unsuspecting Bell. The Weasleys hadn't bothered to put it away during break.
I shouted and dropped the water bottle. The team looked up at me, startled. There wasn't time to do anything else; I launched myself at Bell and threw her flat, and the Bludger shot through the empty air where her head had been seconds before.
And now I had Bell in a very compromising position indeed. Her eyes were wide and she was looking not at me, but rather furiously, and righteously so, at Fred and George. Who, for once, looked slightly abashed. I had to settle for the fact that her hands were on my chest and she was shaking. Whether with shock, fear, or fury, I couldn't say.
She glared at the twins for a second longer, and then at me. Looked, that is, not glared.
"Thanks," she said, rather breathlessly.
"You're very welcome," I answered. Things were becoming rather repetitive.
She hadn't moved and neither did I. While the moments lengthened, someone coughed demurely from above. I think it was Spinnet. I rolled off Bell and picked myself up, looking with distaste at the cut on my arm from the fall. Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal it in a pinch but I glared at Fred and George for good measure. Then, since no one seemed to be inclined to, I held out a hand for Bell and she grasped it, nearly pulling me down as she got to her feet.
"Thanks," she said again.
"As always," I said, grinning lightly, "you're so very welcome. Let's go, team!"
And I shot off into the sky, not waiting for them to follow. I took it on faith that they did.
"All right," I said, when we were all in the air. "This only concerns the Chasers, so you three, shove off."
Fred, George, and Harry flew away, shooting baleful glares in my direction, but I was too exhausted from the encounter with Bell to care. I told you, it takes it out of a bloke.
"This is called the Hawkshead Attacking Formation," I said, pausing in the hopes that one of them would recognize it. I sighed.
"And?" said Johnson impatiently.
"Right," I said wearily. They could at least read Quidditch Through the Ages. I know for a fact that Johnson and Bell have both checked it out at one point or another. "Here's the deal – it's relatively simple, but you'll have to be very aware of where your fellow Chasers are. The idea is to fly toward the hoops in a spearhead formation. Usually, the leader carries the Quaffle, at least at first. Shall we try it?"
"Okay," said Johnson at once.
"I'm not gonna be at the front," said Spinnet.
"Neither am I," retorted Johnson. She turned to Bell and grinned devilishly. "You'll have to do it, Katie."
"Fine," said Bell crossly, and she caught the Quaffle from Spinnet and flew a few feet ahead of the other girls. Spinnet and Johnson fell into formation at her sides.
I slipped an arm around Bell to adjust her hold on the Quaffle and I heard her breath catch.
"So," I said, placing Bell's hands directly on either side of the red ball. I tried to ignore the signals shooting through me. "You can – pass, to Johnson and Spinnet, but it should be you who does the actual scoring. This is an intimidating move – you probably won't meet much resistance. All the same, if you need to, pass. Just be waiting for the follow-up pass when you near the goalposts. All set?"
"Yes."
I let my arm slip away and I flew to the hoops at the end of the field. Once in position, I waved to signal my readiness and the trio flew towards me, shakily at first, occasionally breaking the formation, but gathering steadiness.
Bell caught my eye as she sped toward the hoops. There was an extremely odd element to her expression, but I couldn't quite figure out what it was. With an effort I wrenched my gaze from hers and weaved calculatedly in front of the goalposts.
She threw, but her timing was off and I caught the ball before it had even entered range.
"Pay attention, Bell," I muttered as I tossed it back to her.
"Sorry," she said apologetically. She grinned cheekily at me and my heart thudded.
"Again," I said, keeping my voice steady with an effort. "Change positions."
And now Johnson was in the lead, Bell to her right and Spinnet to her left. This was a problem, since my attention should have been focused on Johnson and was instead focused on Bell. The Quaffle skittered past my stretching fingertips and soared through the right goalpost.
"Good," I said. Again, I locked gazes with Bell. I was jerked roughly back to present as the Weasley twins beat the Bludger toward me.
"Oliver," said Fred triumphantly, "it's time for lunch."
"Yes," proclaimed George. "We must go fill our rumbling stomachs or we shall die of hunger, O Captain."
"Right," I said, running a hand through my hair distractedly. "Lunch. Right."
"Does this mean we have to come back out after lunch?" said Johnson, suspicious of my sudden surrender.
"No," I said, setting a leisurely pace back to the locker rooms. "No, I don't think so."
"After dinner?" asked Spinnet, her eyebrow raised.
"I can't," said Potter quickly. "Not after dinner. I'm – I'm busy."
"There you have it," I said, still not bothering to mask the distraction in my voice. "Can't have Quidditch practice without a Seeker."
Johnson shot me a funny look, but I didn't respond. Fred and George changed from their scarlet robes in seconds, closely followed by Spinnet and Johnson. Bell was just closing her locker when I came around the corner.
The silence was becoming awkward and I could tell she didn't really want to look at me, but I was standing between her and the door, so she glanced up.
"I'm going to lunch," she said lightly, walking towards me. Or, rather, walking towards the door and passing me on the way. "Coming?"
The plan was nearly perfect, but she hadn't taken into account her own adorable clumsiness. She tripped over a bench and would have sprawled flat on her face if I hadn't grabbed her around the waist.
It would have been better to let her fall. The silence stretched to unbearable lengths. What can I say? A Keeper's reflexes die hard. I was still holding her when she craned her head to look at me. It's not that I'm tall – it's just that she's short.
"Thanks," she said.
"You're so very welcome."
And then, at last, at long last, I gave in to my screaming, pleading thoughts and leaned forward.
It's strange how someone like Katie Bell can render me in seconds more breathless than an hour of Quidditch training. It's very strange indeed.
