A/N : Wow, I had no idea that chapter three would have such a giggly effect on you guys...the reviews were AMAZING. Thank you. They just made me feel really special and giggly and all. Lol. ::blush:: I seriously didn't have that much of a romantic mood in mind when I wrote that chapter, but it's great that it turned out that way. See? The more reviews I get, the faster I update (and the nicer I am to the story)! Yay!!! =) Bet you can tell I'm all grinny and happy and giggly right now. Love iz een ze air! Hehe.

Alright, a section here for Cheryl : This is a fluff, honey – it's supposed to be slightly clichéd. Slightly. I think. And Katie never did the whole 'I like him wait no I don't slap slap' thing. I swear she didn't! Oh, wait. I think she did. Ugh. Unintentional. And. Uh. Dear? I'm sorry you think Blaise is hot, because he's supposed to be gay in Under Your Spell. Something I will uncover in a future chapter. Ahem.

Okay, okay. I'll stop ranting. Here's the chapter!

Chapter Four : Come Out Of The Closet

Madam Pomfrey has told me that I have bruised my ribs badly and should not get back to normal classes again for at least a day or two. She kept me giving me this nasty glare as she said so, as if daring me to defy her.

As if.

I mean, the lady is scary. But I do love her complexion.

Note to self : Ask Madam Pomfrey what moisturizer she uses.

Right then, though, I was feeling extremely bored. There was just so many times you could count the amount of ceiling tiles in the hospital wing. You couldn't blame me for being bored if all I could actually do without being yelled at by Madam Pomfrey was subtracting the amount of blue ceiling tiles from the white ones, then the white ceiling tiles from the pale yellow ones, then adding them all up together and multiplying them by the amount of the lavender ceiling tiles...etcetera, etcetera.

I wasn't very worried about what I was going to be missing in class that day, because I was already ahead of the professors of every subject by at least six chapters. So it really wouldn't make any difference.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not fanatical about my studies.

Oh, no.

Not at all.

I just think that they are really important. I mean, one day when I am all grown up someone may ask me what the wrist movement is to levitate something because...I don't know...a big fat elephant is sitting on Fred Weasley or something.

Hey.

That's a cool visual.

As my mind wandered somewhere along the line of pink polka-dotted elephants falling out of the sky and landing splat on a million Fred Weasley clones, the door to the hospital wing opened and I felt my mattress sink slightly with the weight of someone sitting next to me.

"Hey, Katie," Angelina smiled, and held out a basket of fruit for me to take.

I sat myself up quickly, grateful for the interruption, and took the basket from her.

"Who sent these?" I asked her, about to bite into a juicy-looking red apple.

"Fred and George," she said, and I quickly dropped the apple back into the basket again.

Weasleys.

"I asked Lene to come along, but she said she isn't feeling very well. Then I told her that maybe she should come to the hospital wing anyway and get checked out by Pomfrey, but she just got really mad at me. Don't know what's up her arse. She says hi, though," Angelina continued, taking the basket away from me and placing it on my bedside table. She sighed and shook her head. "Haven't a clue what's gotten into the head of that girl. How about you?"

I shook my head as well, neck feeling very sore.

Apparently, my ribs weren't the only parts of my body that were bruised, if the bruises all over me were any indication. Somehow, I had managed to miss all this last night, probably due to all the Oliverness in the environment.

Speak of the devil, Oliver walked in at that moment and paused when he saw Angelina there.

"Er...knock, knock. Am I disturbing something?" he asked politely.

Unconsciously, I ran my fingers through my hair, which must have looked God-awful (there wasn't a comb in sight and I had been much too frightened to ask Madam Pomfrey for one) to try and tidy it up a little bit.

"Er...no, not at all," I told him.

Angelina was giving me a weird look as I said this.

What?!

"Well," Oliver said, stepping fully into the room, "I have something for you." He walked over to the other side of my bed so he was right next to me and pushed something into my hands.

I looked down and blinked in disbelief.

"Oooooh! Novels! Thanks, Oliver!" I exclaimed happily, grinning madly and probably looking like a little kid on Christmas morning.

Oliver was my saviour. I didn't know how he had gotten them, but he had – three brand new romance novels that looked like they made up a trilogy. Goodie. The trilogies were always good. I bet you someone had an affair in book two. They always did. And right at the bottom of the pile of books –

"Quidditch Weekly. Best Quidditch magazine there is. I got my issue yesterday, but you can have a look at it first. Just pass it back to me when you're done. Thought you would be bored, so..." Oliver shrugged and grinned bashfully. "Did I do the right thing, then?" he asked anxiously.

I nodded vigorously, sending shockwaves of pain running up my neck.

Let me just take a moment to add that to my list of The Top Ten Stupidest Things You Can Ever Do In Your Entire Life.

"Yes – ow! Ouch, yes, you did, Oliver. Thanks a lot," I said, rubbing my neck cautiously.

"Brill. Well, I'll just be going then. I'll see you both tonight, girls – Johnson, you for practice, and Katie, you for my tutoring. Don't be late, Johnson," he said and left the room.

Ooooh.

Nice arse.

But I probably should not be thinking about that, should I? After all, he is my friend, student and Quidditch captain. At least he's not my brother or something because that would be just plain GROSS.

"Katie, how did you get him to stop calling you Bell?" Angelina asked me as soon as Oliver left the room.

Gee.

I don't know.

I asked.

"I just asked him to, Angie," I replied, giving her a "duh" look.

"Well, I've asked him to call me Angelina a gazillion times and he's never listened to me."

"What, you counted?"

Angelina made a face at me. "Ha ha ha. Hilarious. Behold me laughing," she pouted.

I lowered myself onto my pillow again, wincing slightly as I did something to my ribcage. "What's your point, Angie?" I asked her.

Angelina looked like she was about to reveal the meaning of life. Her eyes had gone all sparkly and I just wondered what the hell was wrong with her.

"I think," she said, complete with dramatic pause and all, "that Oliver Wood fancies you."

I did a very good imitation of Lene at that moment, bursting into laughter and all, which really didn't do very much for me seeing that my ribs were extremely, extremely sore, so I didn't know whether to laugh or cry because of the pain I was in.

Angie must have lost her mind.

"And I think you fancy him, too," she continued matter-of-factly.

Oh, yes.

Lost her mind, alright.

Completely.

"You – you're joking, right?" I finally managed to choke out amongst all the tears and laughter.

"Absolutely not!" Angelina exclaimed, looking outraged at the very thought.

Before I could even continue to laugh any longer, Madam Pomfrey came bustling in, looking rather pissed off.

"Out with you, Miss Johnson! Will you not allow your friend some recuperation? Some peace and quiet? Go on, now, shoo!"

Yes.

She actually said 'shoo' to Angelina.

Angelina gave me a superior, know-it-all look as if she knew something I didn't and left the room.

Madam Pomfrey tut-tutted after her.

"Well, really!" she snapped.

Now she was going to spend the whole day ranting and raving about how inconsiderate my so-called friends were.

Ohhhh, yeah.

Just what I needed.

Oh, brother.

Everyone kept dropping in to visit me during the next few days, so it was almost like I had never been away when I was finally released by Mother Hen Pomfrey.

I actually did ask her what moisturizer she used, but she got rather shirty with me.

I wonder why.

In a strange way, I had managed to sort of accept the fact that I was now Oliver's tutor now within the span of those few days, when Oliver would come into the hospital wing for me to lecture him. It wasn't like it was such a huge thing, I suppose, but it made me feel – I don't know. Older. More responsible, and more mature, somehow.

And guess what?

I was even beginning to sort of enjoy our tutoring sessions together.

Or it could have just been because I was stuck there in that stupid bed and there was nothing else for me to actually do.

Not that he still didn't irritate me, though.

I mean, hello? The Look haunted my dreams at night.

But he really was one of those few guys I could really feel comfortable around, and really relate to.

Maybe he was gay.

I don't have anything against homosexuals, though. I'll support him if he ever decides to come out of the closet to me. After all, he is my friend – gay or not.

When Madam Pomfrey let me out, classes for the day were over and if I hurried, I would be able to make it to Quidditch practice that would begin in ten minutes. I was held up for a while by a few well-wishers, but I somehow managed not to be TOO late, although I didn't have enough time to tie up my hair.

My stupid, stupid hair.

It's this dull, dirty-blonde colour and I really don't like it. Can you say B-O-R-I-N-G? I keep asking my mom whether I can do something to it with magic, but she's the Muggle half of me and completely refuses. She says I can do something Mugglish to it, but there is NO WAY I am trusting my hair with any of those Muggle hair products.

I may be half-Muggle, and I really don't mind Muggles most of the time, but I'm not stupid.

Hey, I saw what happened to Michael Jackson.

Oliver was in the middle of his usual pre-practice pep talk as I scurried out onto the pitch, already clad in my scarlet and gold Quidditch robes. As I watched, the team dispersed and got onto their brooms, kicking off from the ground.

"Hey! Orli!" I yelled, half-running across the pitch to Oliver, who was releasing the balls into play.

Oliver looked up and I saw his eyes widen in surprise when he saw me. I ran up to him, panting slightly from the exertion of running halfway across the pitch. I'm one of those people who wouldn't be able to run even if their lives depended on it.

Hey.

I'm fragile.

"Katie? What are you doing here?" he asked, letting the Bludgers go with a warning yell to the rest, who hadn't spotted me yet.

Gee, I wonder.

"What does it look like? I'm here for practice," I replied, looking at him as if he were crazy.

Which he probably was.

Then again, he's gay, and since I've never known anyone who was gay before, for all I know they may be the same thing.

Oliver looked at me strangely. "You're here for practice?" he asked slowly.

"Yes. I. Am. Here. For. Practice," I said slowly, as if I were talking to a four-year-old.

As Oliver had the brain capacity of a four-year-old, I figured he would understand.

He raised his eyebrows, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Really, his expression was bordering on The Look.

Merlin, what on earth was wrong with him?

"Look, Oliver, were you born thick or are you making a special effort today? What is wrong with you? Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally asked, feeling extremely frustrated. "Why do you sodding torture me with that stupid, bleeding Look?" my mind silently added.

Oliver seemed to snap out of his own little reverie and he quickly replied, "Oh, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. Just...go on, then. Play Quidditch. Fly."

"Thank you," I thought and reached for my broomstick with my wand hand.

Huh?

Ahhh, ffffffishcake.

"Mind telling me how you're going to fly? Or did you get an invisible broomstick without my knowledge?" Oliver asked, fighting to keep his face straight.

It turns out I had forgotten my broomstick. I had left it in the changing room.

Damn.

The twins would have a field day.

"Well, aren't you going to fly, Katie? Go on, then!" Oliver said in his best innocent voice (which wasn't very good, really) and turned to get on his broomstick.

"Oh, shut up, Wood. You're being a gobshite," I said irritably and started walking away from him as fast as I could, to get my broomstick so I could practice with the rest and also to get as far away from The Look as possible.

"Oh, wait a second, Bell," I heard Oliver call to my back, and a few seconds later, he was hovering in the air right next to me.

"It's Katie."

"You called me Wood; I was just returning the favour."

Ugh.

I felt like slapping that silly Look off his face, but fortunately I managed to keep my hands in check. That didn't stop my knee from reflexively moving upwards to knee him in the groin, however, but luckily for the both of us he was high enough in the air to avoid a very serious injury to the family jewels.

Looks like his mom could expect to have grandchildren after all.

"Watch yourself, Katie! You can get arrested for that sort of thing, you know," Oliver grinned.

I bet he wouldn't have said that if my knee really had made contact with his you-know-what.

I rolled my eyes and continued to walk again.

Maybe I could get a restraining order against him from the Ministry of Magic. Or maybe the Ministry wizards would just take a good look at his visage and drop dead. The probability of that happening was, after all, pretty darn high.

"Hey, wait, Katie," Oliver suddenly said, and I realized he was right next to me again.

It wasn't fair! I was a girl without wheels!

Or brooms.

Whatever.

"What do you want now, Oliver?" I finally asked in his response to humming the Star Wars theme song. "And what in the name of Merlin is up with all the Star Wars-ness?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Figured it might get your attention. Look, Katie, I don't want you flying today. It's too soon. You might hurt yourself," he said seriously, looking at me straight in the eye.

Something about the intensity of his gaze made me squirm and look away for a second or two. "I'm fine, Orli," I muttered, angry at myself for not being able to scream, "HAVE YOU *bleep*ING LOST YOUR MIND?!"

"Would you mind very much, then, if I happened to accidentally poke you in the ribs?" Oliver asked, deadly calm.

Unconsciously, I immediately winced in reflex.

"Don't. Touch. The ribs." I glared at him.

If he ever...

"Exactly. Now you should go back to the Gryffindor tower and rest up so you can practice tomorrow. And if you really have to be in the open that much, just sit in the stands and watch us. There is absolutely no way I am allowing you to practice today. Do you understand me?"

I could imagine Angelina's voice in my head giggling, "Ooh. Strong and sexy – I like, I like!"

"Shut up, Angie."

"Sorry?" Oliver asked.

Whoops.

"Did I say that out loud?" I said, feeling very embarrassed for some reason. I didn't really know why. It wasn't like me at all.

And I should know, me being me and all.

"Look, nothing, Oliver. I just...ugh. Forget I said anything. So I'll just sit and watch, then?" I tried to cover up, feeling very flustered at being caught off guard, when I was usually the one with all the cool catchphrases and witty comebacks.

Naturally, I'm being modest.

What?

"Sure. Go on. I tell you what...I'll sit with you so you don't have to be lonely. I've had enough Quidditch for one day, anyway," Oliver volunteered.

...

Heh.

Hi, mom, just thought I'd call to let you know that the world has officially ended. Hell finally froze over about five seconds ago and I'd love to chat more but I have to rescue my friend Oliver Wood's soul from the clutches of the evil Satanic alien demons from Mars who abducted him from his dormitory last night with their spaceship that looks suspiciously like the one from that Star Trek show you're always watching. Maybe it had something to do with the blue moon last night – you know, with that cow in the tutu that kept jumping over it, don't tell me you didn't notice – and, oh yeah, those flying pigs dressed in tuxedos that wouldn't stop mewing and singing the Irish national anthem? Yeah, those. Alright, I have to go now before God comes down from heaven to give me a speech on the joys and wonders of drug abuse. Yeah. No, I don't want to hear about your affair with the milkman. Alright. Take care. Love you too. I promise I won't rejoice if it rains toads. Okay. Okay. Bye.

But I digress.

"You've had enough Quidditch for one day?" I repeated faintly.

Oliver nodded and shrugged. "Now that you mention it. Come on, let's go. Hop on to my broomstick."

It was lucky I wasn't Angie, because she would have totally taken that as a sexual innuendo.

"I thought you didn't want me to fly," I replied cautiously.

There had to be some kind of trick here.

"You'll be alright as long as you're with me. Besides, it's not that far a distance to the stands. I'm just too plain lazy to walk. Come on, Katie, don't just stand there," Oliver urged, and pulled on my sleeve slightly.

I was pretty much too dumbstruck to refuse, so I climbed onto his broomstick as he lowered the broom slightly nearer to the ground so I could get on.

"Hold on," he instructed, and I immediately placed my hands around his waist as he flew us over to the stands.

As we flew together, I suddenly became aware of the close proximity the two of us were in. I began to feel very self-conscious all of a sudden, and my body started to tingle all over. My grip around his waist must have loosened, because he suddenly said, "Katie, you're going to fall if you don't hold on tight enough," and quickly placed one of his hands on mine, never looking back the whole time.

Now forgive me for sounding totally clichéd, but the second Oliver held my hand, something happened. I felt like I would be completely safe as long as I was with him, and that even if I let go of his waist completely and did a mad dance on his broomstick I just wouldn't be able to fall. I wouldn't do that, of course. That would be just stupid. But...I don't know. It was what Lene and all my favourite romance novel authors would call a frisson. A frisson that made me feel all warm and gooey and happy inside, not being gross or anything with the 'gooey'. And I felt amazing and so...so...loved.

Oliver was gay, though, so there had to be a problem there.

Hmmm.

Since I was going to be spending the next few hours with Oliver, I felt that this was a good opportunity to discuss his sexuality.

After all, I was charitable, generous and thoughtful.

Again with the modesty.

So as we touched down in the stands and I got off his broomstick, I felt all aglow with my good-heartedness.

"Okay, Oliver...time to come out of the closet," I murmured.

A/N : Aaaaahhhh! Long chapter! Okay, I have NO idea where the whole Oliver being gay thing came from. It just...I dunno. Happened. Hopefully, it'll serve us up a couple of laughs. Or it may lead to some pissing off. I dunno, we'll just see what kind of mood I'm in when I write the next chapter. =) So I hope this chapter was alright. Please R&R and tell me what you thought! Ciaoz, peeps!