Eeeeee! You never how truly loved you are until someone draws you a picture! (waiting for the address, but I'm sure it's great!) I'm getting suggestions left and right and I love it! Let's me know you guys aren't just skimming over my chapters! Though I know you guys never would.

Ok, I'll attempt to stop rambling and write the chap. Wish me luck!

P.S. Valentine's Day is approaching! What will happen? Whahaha!

February 3, Monday, History of Magic

"You realize it's officially almost less than a week until Valentine's Day, don't you?"

I snapped out of my daydream. I'm in History of Magic, the most boring class in the whole entire world. How could you not fall asleep listening to a ghost drone on and on and on and on and on about something that happened thousands of years ago in some place that you've never heard of with goblins you never want to hear about? If you want the answer, you should ask Alicia. She was sitting next to me practically bouncing up and down in her seat.

"I'm sorry, 'Lic, what did you say?"

She ignored the fact that I had ignored the fact that it's almost less than a week until Valentine's Day. I have such a way with words don't I?

"It's a week and a day from Valentine's Day!" she said this rather loud, but of course, only the other student's noticed as our teacher continued to feed us boring facts. Actually, it was more like force feeding.

"And?" I had half a mind to fall back into my daydream. Alicia just rolled her eyes.

" 'Lic, Valentine's Day is for little people that fly around with-"

Little did I know that Mr. Bonn was asking me a question, "What did the goblins use as their prime weapon? Miss Bell?"

"-bows and arrows-" I didn't even know he asked me anything and continued obliviously on with my little speech.

"Correct!" he continued to drone on.

"-shooting people in the butt," I continued, still unaware of the fact that I actually answered a question right in that stupid class, "and for people with boyfriends. I am neither incase you didn't notice."

Alicia just smiled, "but you never know, you might become one."

"A little person shooting people in the butt?" I smiled slyly, I know what she meant, I just love to bust her chops.

"No, a person with a boyfriend," she was still smiling, even more after my smart alick remark.

Damn her.After practice

AHHHHHHH! HARRY GOT HIS FIREBOLT BACK! I will personally kiss the feet of the person who sent him that beautiful thing. After Oliver of course.But seriously, he let us all have a go on it. That thing is FAST. I mean, my hair whipped me to pieces fast. Holy Fudge.

So of course Oliver ran practice late so he could see that thing go longer. But no biggie, we didn't mind, and my shoulder is feeling a bit better.

February 4, Tuesday, 10 pm

I can no longer feel any of the bones in my body. I'm about to drop dead on the floor...right after I kill Oliver.I was sitting on the bench after a hard practice and I was taking out the 'stuffing' from the right shoulder of my robes. I had just finished when Oliver threw the quaffle in my lap. I caught it purely out of reflexes.

"Come on," he said, "you need some more practice."

My jaw almost dropped to the floor. But I didn't let it. I was determined to show him up. Because if I let him get away with this, he would do it every time we had practice. So I took out the rest of the rags out of my robes, threw them down on the bench, and followed him back out onto the pitch, quaffle and broom in hand with the most determined face on.

"Let's get your right arm back to work," he said once we were up in the air in front of the hoops.

I rolled my right shoulder, knowing it was going to die again today. Poor thing. "Alright," I put the quaffle in my right hand, where I threw it up and down two inches off my palm a few times. Right handed, boy did that feel good after a week and a half of lefty, "where do you want it?"

"Hmm," he glanced at the hoops behind him, his eyebrow cocked and smiling cockily, "can you handle your right hoop?"Damn it, he knew what I was up to. He knew I would stay out here all night until the sun rose the next morning just to show him up. And he almost did. We stayed out until 9 pm when Madame Hooch saw that the lights were still on and told us off for practicing so late. So all in all, I had a heaping helping of 6 hours of practice.

"You are so stubborn," Oliver said as we finally made our way into the entrance way.

It was 9:15 and we had 45 minutes to get back to the common room before Filch gave us detention. (Yes, I was officially aloud to stay out until 10. Alleluia!) Which wasn't nearly enough for my aching bones. I would've crawled up the stairs if Oliver wasn't there. No way was I going to crash and burn now.

I gave him a weak smile, "How so?"

I knew I was stubborn. I'm ok with that. It may not be a redeeming quality, but it's one of my strongest. Along with sarcasm…is that a quality?

He chuckled lightly, "Every time I push you, you push me back even harder."

I smiled at the complement, even if it was pointing out my stubborn ness even more. I know he meant it in a good way though.

"Jez Oliver, that's Chaser Rule number 1: push'em back harder than they pushed you. Hell, you're the one who taught me that," I pointed out.

"Nah," he chuckled, "you've always been stubborn. I just made sure you used it on the other teams instead of on me."

"Glad it worked," I said laying the sarcasm on thick.

And guess what? He finally caught it! Took him long enough.

He laughed harder and it echoed in the empty halls. I was so sure that Filch was going to bust us. Get us on something stupid like laughing too loud. But then I realized it wasn't past hours, and his laugh is even more contagious than his smile that I laughed just as hard.

We were on the same floor as the kitchen and Oliver asked if I was hungry when our laughter died down.

"No," I lied. "I'm fine."

I thought I was going to get away with this one because it was pretty dim and I was sure he couldn't see my face all that well. But of course, my stomach growled really loud.

"Kat, you are a terrible liar," he looked at me smiling crookedly.

I guess it wasn't that dim and my stomach kinda gave it away.

I felt my cheeks getting slightly red, "I know…"

"Come on," he grabbed my arm and I let him drag me to the kitchens…which is where I ultimately crashed and burned.

I plowed through the chicken and potatoes the house elves out in front of me in like two minutes flat. After that, I nearly collapsed onto the table. Actually, I kinda did.

"I'm sorry," Oliver said.

I looked up. I had my arms folded on the table and had my head resting on them, nose to nose with the table. I didn't see a Quidditch game in the grain like the table in the library but I did find mountains of plates filled with food.

"For what?" I asked through a yawn.

"I pushed you too hard."

"Ha!" I laughed weakly, "I could go for hours."

I am officially the most stubborn person on the planet.

Oliver just looked at me in all my stubborn glory and shook his head slightly. Then he looked at the floor and then back up at me, "6 hours is too long for anyone."

I stretched my arms up to the ceiling, "Not for me. Want to go back out and make sure my arm is still attached to my body?" another yawn.

Boy, I was just asking for it. If it wasn't 9:30 at night, I'm sure he would have. We are talking about Oliver, remember?

He smiled and I gave him a sleepy one before yawning and returning to my previous position on the table except now looking at him.

"Alright, Kat," he practically lifting me out of my chair and onto my feet, "let's get you to bed."

"I thought you were going to run me into the ground a little bit more?" I could only fight back with my smart alick mouth. I was too tired to even try and fight off him as he dragged me out of the kitchen, carrying both our bags.

"Oliver," I groaned/yawned, "I can walk on my own," I finally mustered the strength to pry my arm out of his grasp. Not like it was hard, I think he let me go because he was smiling. "And give me back my bag."

"If you insist," he kept smiling as he handed me my bag.

"I do," I replied, stubborn as ever.

I instantly regretted attempting to carry my bag. You see, I knida forgot I had my potions, history and transfig. textbook in there along with almost all my notebooks. So when I put it in my shoulder, my bad shoulder not to mention, it kinda wound up on the floor.

I held the shoulder strap, hung my whole torso and arms almost to the ground and looked down at my messenger bag, all the contents fell out on the floor. I sighed, kneeled down on the floor and started to pick up my books.

"I know I know," I said as Oliver bent down and started helping me before he could say anything, "I'm stubborn. And if I wasn't this would've never happened."

"Actually," he retorted softly, handing me some books, "I was going to say it's not the greatest idea to carry your diary in your bag."

Damn it…

I sighed as we stood up, "It's just a stupid notebook."

Oliver took my bag out of my hands, "So that's why you carry it around," he said before I could protest.

Maybe I shouldn't kill Oliver. I mean, he only wanted my shoulder to get better and he did manage to get some food down my throat and he did carry my bag. Alright, I won't kill him.

February 5, Thursday, after classes

So guess what I found today. C'mon, guess. Though you'll never get the right answer.I found Oliver Wood, in the library (a shock I know but not the one I'm talking about) with Natasha Turner. Helping her do her homework.

"Err…" was all I could say.

I mean, what was I supposed to say? 'Get away from him'? I can't do that, and I wouldn't. and for the record Natasha Turner is one of those look-at-me-I-think-I'm-perfect-but-I'm-really-not type of people. She's a Hufflepuff, 7th year, about an inch shorter than me (5 foot 6 inches), has long wavy black hair and gray eyes. I would also like to say she's no twig, though she thinks she is.

"Oh, hi Kat," Oliver said smiling, looking up at me after my wonderful entrance line. "You know Natasha, right?"

I think my mouth was hanging open because I finally shut it. "Uh, um, yeah. 7th year Hufflepuff, right?" I asked Natasha checking that my sources were right. But when were Fred and George ever wrong? (they pranked her last year, said she was stuck up.)

Natasha nodded. "And you're Katie Bell, of course, right?"

Of course. Who else would I be? I mean, I only played in front of the whole school, my name was only said about a gillion times on Lee's commentaries.

I just nodded. I didn't know what to do. I looked from Oliver to her, then back to Oliver. Then I realized Oliver's arm was resting on the back of her chair which was very close to his.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" I asked, unsure what to say.

"No," Oliver shook his head, "I was just helping Nat with her homework. She's not sure about her herbology homework."

I froze.

Number 1: when has Oliver been a genius at herbology?

Number 2: Oliver has already given her a nickname? How long has he known her? I mean, it was different with me, even though I gained mine the second he meet me, I'm a team mate and not to mention a close friend.

Number 3: And why did her nickname sound precariously like mine? Kat. Nat. does nobody see the connection here? What is going on?

"Oh, well," I said, my eyes not leaving his, "I guess I'll go find Alicia and Angelina and the twins."

Before he could say a word I turned on my heel and left Oliver alone with a very confused Natasha. Or 'Nat'.

And what kind of nickname is 'Nat' anyway? A nat is an annoying little bug. Well, she fits both descriptions! Annoying and bug!

Argh! I should've killed Oliver when I had the chance!

..why am I getting so worked up over this. I mean, he can see someone can't he? I can't decide who he should date. Natasha isn't good enough though, but who is? At least she's no Sarah Massey. If he does really like her, I should be happy. He is one of my closest friends.

after dinner

"I'm telling you," Fred said once we were in the common room after dinner, "it's not going to last."Oliver hadn't come to dinner. He was on a date with Natasha. I know I should be happy for him, but I'm not. Well, as long as he doesn't realized. I don't think I can lie happiness though. Either you are or you're not. I'll try though.

"I don't like her," I said edgily. We were sitting in front of the fire and I was curled in a ball on the couch. A unhappy ball. An unhappy ball in comfy sweats, hey we all were. In sweats I mean.

"You don't have to," George said.

"Because it's not going to last," his twin said again.

"She's so…" I was moving my hand in a circle in the air, trying to find the right word, "…not right."

"We should be happy for him though," Alicia said from next to me.

"I'll give it two weeks," George said.

"A week and a half," Fred wagered, "ten sickles."

"Do you have ten sickles?"

"Of course."

"Will you two stop?" Alicia asked icily, did I mention Hammy was on her lap so it completely ruined the effect, "we should be happy for him."

"She's not right for him," I retorted.

"And you are?" Angelina asked from the arm chair next to Fred's.

"I never said that!" I said edgier than before, then I died down into a quieter voice "it's just she's so…she's not interested in Quidditch, she couldn't care less. I mean, she couldn't handle him. He's just so…"

"Obsessed?" Fred offered.

"Well, yeah," I sighed, "but he's so…stubborn."

"Spoken like the true queen of stubbornness," George said.

"She's right though," Angelina agreed after our light laughter died down after George's comment, "he's so bent on winning that cup. All he talks about."

"Don't forget the Firebolt," I put in smiling.

"Or practice," George added.

We laughed again.

Alicia sighed, "It'll never last…"

"Told you," Fred said.

I lovingly fingered the necklace Oliver gave me for Christmas. I smiled at the miniature broom at the thought of Christmas break. Mrs. Weasley's cooking, playing Quidditch, beating Oliver's team at Quidditch, Mrs. Weasley's cooking, Christmas day, our snow fights, Mrs. Weasley's cooking, the incident at the tea shop, Davies' date squawking like a bird, Mrs. Weasley's cooking, the shrieking shack, Oliver and that huge dog, Mrs. Weasley's cooking, and even New Year's Eve.

" 'Lic's right though," I sighed after a while, "we should at least try and be happy for him. And if not, try and look happy for him. We're his friends after all. He would do the same."

My friends nodded in agreementOk, do ya like? Know you'll review either way. I hope I haven't started world war three!