His Scottish Brogue

By Lady Arre

Disclaimer: I don't own a stone tower in westray, and I don't have my self a hot Scottish guy, and oh yeah… I don't own harry potter, quidditch, voldemort, Hogwarts or really anything at all. I don't even own the desk I'm sitting at! Thankyou to jk rowling for letting me mess around in her world for a little while so that I don't have to go do assignments.

Authors note: just a tiny little thing I'm writing to give me an excuse not to do my homework. aaaaaaaaaand... On with the story

It is cold… very cold. I shiver and dig my hands into my pockets even further… what am I doing here in Orkney for goodness sakes? I ask my self, as I look tentatively up at the stubborn stone tower whose door I stand in front of.

The answer is simple… him.

Oliver Wood. He was my quidditch captain during high school, he used to run us ragged with his practises, my friends and I used to joke that he was an evil dictator, with a very twisted sense of humour. It was all in good fun though, we all loved him despite the fact we would have sold our own parents for a chance to throw him in lake.

I don't when the idea that if someone threw him in the lake, I would actually help dry him off and make him a hot chocolate, came into my head. I suppose it was in his seventh year… when Voldemort returned. I was so scared for all my friends. Oliver, most of all.

But Voldemort's been gone ten years now and Oliver still didn't know that for years I begged anything that would listen to watch for him and keep him safe.

It took some wrangling for Fred and George Weasley, beaters on our old school quidditch team, to help me find him because every one else had stayed in contact, Oliver had exiled himself from the wizarding world since he found his mother murdered. We knew now he was in Westray, Orkney where he and his mother and grandfather had lived together all through his childhood.

I knock nervously, what if he is mad I'm here, what if he blames me? I was with him when his mother was murdered. What if I make him go through all that again.

What if , what if, I chide my self. There a footsteps coming towards the door. I brace myself. There's a rattle of a lock and the door swings open. Oliver, no longer the charming twenty-one year old quidditch enthusiast that he was when I last saw him, stands there and blinks at me.

"Come in" he says, "it's late and you're going blue out there"

I accept his invitation eagerly, my fingers are numb and I was not used to Orkneys wintry climate.

Oliver was very tall, taller than I remember, i suppose that's because I was so bigheaded at Hogwarts and I had a taller personality. Needless to say I have since been humbled, with my brother and cousin murdered before me while I was helpless, my parents missing for nearly 12 years. I realised that I was never the centre of anyone universe except my own. And it was such a chaotic, turbulent place it eventually exploded inside itself anyway.

My old quidditch captain, now a man of 32 years of age led me into a kitchen and let me stand in front of the fire.

"What do you want Katie?" he asks, his voice is tired, as if he has lived for decades longer than he feels he ought.

I stutter around desperate for something to say. "We've been looking for years Oliver, since you disappeared. We didn't know what happened."

"We?" he asks, raising his eyebrow at me like he so often used to do.

I nod. "Ang, 'licia, Fred George, Lee, the whole gang. Harry too."

Oliver sits down, "I thought you all hated me"

"Why on earth would we hate you Oliver?"

"Because I, I, I hated my self Katie, so much, I couldn't see how anyone could feel any different"

I cross the gap between us and sweep his fringe out of his eyes, "Oliver…"

"Kates?" he says, my old nickname.

"Yes captain?" I grin

"I have something to tell you"

His Scottish brogue is stronger now, his naturally deep brown eyes now hurtfully deeper. I squeeze his hand.

"I'd always hoped it would be you that would find me"

Tears are welling up in my eyes. "Why not one of the others?" I ask, inwardly cringing at the emotion in my voice.

"Hadn't you noticed that you were always my favourite Kates? That practise would stop the second you were too exhausted, that I always made sure you were up to it? That you were the one I'd always let sleep I that extra ten minutes while I woke the others?"

I lay my head on his shoulder, "I love you Oliver" I whisper. He brings his calloused hands to my face to wipe away tears and take with them years of uncertainty. Oliver Wood brings his lips down on mine and I accept his attempts.

"I always loved you Kates" he says after a moment, "I was positive I'd get into trouble though, I was too old for you."

"It never mattered to me, Oliver" I tell him.

"I so glad you're here Kates" his Scottish brogue matches the unique manner in which he closes the gap between us again and picks me up. Healing has at last begun. For the both of us.

A/N: what do you think, too sappy?too sweet and hopelessly romantic?or just right? or do you just wanna tell me to stop procrastinating and go do my homework?Come on, go review. Press the button!