Disclaimer: However much I might wish I did, unfortunately I do not own any of these characters… They all belong to JKR… (mutters darkly under breath)

I'd just like to say that everything about Qudditch Through The Ages (except the borrower dates by Hermione and Harry – they were originally March but that wouldn't fit 'cos they're first years) is true. I've got the book written for Comic Relief and was sitting here checking that I've got everything right… No Comment…

Bit of a long chapter… I got carried away…sorry….

Red – The Senses

Hear Wednesday

His body unfroze, shame deepening as Lee Jordan's voice echoed through his mind again, "Flint scores!" Every time a Slytherin came up to the hoops, his body froze, he couldn't move. He caught the red ball the other side of the hoop and tossed it to the nearest Gryffindor chaser. He watched as a scarlet blur impeded his vision. Harry was circling like a hawk for the tiny speck of gold that would save them from doom.

Katie streaked down the pitch determined to score. Angelina and Alicia swirled around her, stopping anyone else coming anywhere near her. Protecting her. As they approached the hoops, Angelina and Alicia darted left first, the keeper mirroring them, blocking them while Katie threw the quaffle underneath through the right hoop.

Cheering filled his ears as the sea of despairing Gryffindors issued a roar of appreciation for Katie. "Bell scores! 160, 10 to Slytherin!" Katie flew up quickly, getting out of Harry's way. He was shooting upwards into the clouds; Oliver's spirits rose – they could draw! "Miles Bletchly of Slytherin in possession of the quaffle, Bletchly passes to Captain Flint who dodges Spinnet, bad luck Alicia, get him next time – Watch out Johnson, that's a bludger! Back to Bletchly, Flint –" The Weasley twins swung their bats at the bludger, one twin hovering around the girls, the other skimming alongside Harry who was dipping in and out of the grey, chilling clouds, following the snitch. Harry and George suddenly dived; Oliver's heart pace quickened as the first year's hand stretched out.

Lee Jordan's voice reached him as if from a mile away, "FOUL! YOU DIRTY, CHEATING SCUMBAG, YOU BLOODY BAS-" Oliver turned round to see Flint passing back to Bletchly (where was his team's interception skills?). Flint flew up, cloud level with Katie. The next thing he saw was Katie toppling fast out of the sky; he flew as fast as he could as he watched her sink dangerously close to ground level. With a sharp jerk, he pulled his broom up, her soft form landing neatly in his arms. A familiar smell surrounded him, something that he was looking for, he couldn't remember.

As thought in slow motion, he looked up to see Bletchly smirking at him, Harry diving past on his Nimbus 2000, George's bat swinging towards the Slytherin chaser. It hit home, Bletchly spinning away, letting go of the quaffle to stay on his broom. The ball rose in the air and fell through the hoop as Bletchly was nearly knocked off his broom. Harry's fingers enclosed around the fluttering treasure, "Bletchly scores, Potter catches the snitch! Slytherin win!" Madame Hooch's whistle kept on emitting that piercing shriek…

Oliver's eyes snapped open as he hit the offending metal object on his bedside table. Damn dawn practises. Replacing the potion with his alarm clock that resided in his trunk yesterday was not a good idea, he concluded. Being in his trunk all summer and the beginning of term, he had not heard the alarm that reminded him to get his team up for a quidditch practise at dawn.

A bead of cold sweat dripped down his chest and he rolled over out of his furnace bed. It was no good trying to go back to sleep; he was awake now. He thought about sending the clipping from The Daily Prophet to his younger brother about Puddlemere United, and the more he pondered it, the more the idea appealed to him. He stretched as he pulled off his pyjama trousers and replaced them with boxers and a pair of black jeans. He didn't bother with a shirt – he was only going up to the owlery at sunrise – who would see him?

Oliver rummaged around in his bag until he found the letter containing the clipping and crept out the common room. He jogged up all the sets of stairs to the owlery until he reached the stone step pathway that was outside. A light drizzle had started to fall. He strolled on, basking in the cool drops of rain, wondering about the dream. He stood at the arched owlery window staring out over the horizon and rested his arm on the window ledge, watching his owl fly away over the lake. As the water fell, it reflected light over the stone walls behind him. Through the light of the sun just waking up, the rain looked red. It was as though blood was falling from the sky.

An old owl exhaustedly making its way over in to the window broke his reverie. As Oliver was about to stand aside to let the owl through; the owl aimed to land on the ledge, but missed. Oliver stretched his arm out as if saving the quaffle and spread his hand out as the owl landed in his palm. He brought Errol into the owlery and the owl sputtered as he clawed his way up Oliver's right shoulder. The talons dug into his flesh, biting and tearing. Oliver wished he had bothered to get a shirt, but that little voice in the back of his head was talking. He would have to go back to the common room and stay near the bottom of the staircases, with blood pouring down his torso until a Weasley twin came down and took their owl and letter. He tried to convince himself that this was only because he knew that Errol would get into trouble if left by himself to fly down to breakfast with the other owls all of his own accord. He refused to think why he needed to convince himself this was true. The thought that every Gryffindor – male and female – coming down would see him never crossed his mind. No, especially not the thoughts of a different member of his quidditch team.

Oliver made his way back to the common room and looked around the mess of inky parchment bearing scribbles accompanied by the name Ron Weasley. His eye caught on the book next to them Qudditch Through The Ages by Kennilworthy Whisp; he looked at the list of names inside the cover. His name was top of the list – O. Wood 9th April. He scanned the list and saw familiar names. A. Johnson 19th July, further down was K. Bell 19th October, the list continued with some Slytherins until F. Weasley 15th February, he assumed that meant George had read it as well. Near the bottom of the list was H. Granger 2nd September, the last borrower being H. Potter 11th September. He picked the book up and began to flip through to his favourite pages. He lifted the owl to a more comfortable clutch on his shoulder before settling down on the floor in front of the fire.

He was woken by a girl's voice, "Ollliveeeer!" He opened an eye to find Katie snapping her fingers in front of his face. He jumped and she looked as if she was trying to smile, but couldn't quite make it. His brows furrowed confusion evident in his expression. He stood up and noticed a note on the floor. As he reached down to pick it up, pain seared through his shoulder. He winced and then the reason for Katie's concern became obvious. Oliver scanned the note: The twins thanked him for looking after Errol; Katie had been sitting near enough at breakfast for her to "overhear" Fred and George wondering where their dear captain was. He was half-heartedly mentally cursing the twins for causing him embarrassment, when it suddenly occurred to him; he was standing with Katie Bell, one of his chasers in an otherwise empty common room, with a large injury across his unclothed chest. Thank God he had considered putting jeans on; or now that he thought about it… His thoughts were jolted out of his brain by another eruption of pain that resulted in the numerous talon gashes being reopened, eliciting another glorious gasp from Katie. (Glorious? What am I on about?) She stepped forward, her hand running about an inch from his skin, tracing the flow of blood seeping through. "What happened?"

His voice faltered half of him wanted to make some amazing fabrication that would impress her (why do I want to impress her?); the other half did not want to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her about how he was savaged by an old, pathetic, defenceless owl! "Erm- yeah, about that, I – ummm, better see Madam Pomfrey…Practise at seven, yes?" He dashed out the portrait leaving Katie behind, thoroughly perplexed.

He drifted down the corridors until he reached the hospital wing, preparing himself for the usual I thought I told you last time to take better care of yourself he normally received when visiting Madame Pomfrey. Over the years, quidditch had introduced him to the Hospital Wing a fair few times. He pushed open the doors and was greeted by the tut tut of Madame Pomfrey and the usual, "What have you been up to now, Wood? It's a little early in the term for dawn practises isn't it?"

He looked down at the tiles and scuffed his foot, "I er- went up to the owlery and Errol – the, ah, Weasley's owl didn't quite make it to the windowsill." After a few prods with her wand and a small scolding, he was set free, "Next time, I think you should stick to saving quaffles not owls. Good luck tomorrow!" He began to wonder why the match was on a Thursday. They were normally on Saturdays weren't they? What was happening on Saturday? He knew that it was on Thursday, leaving Friday as a reserve in case both teams wanted to delay the match in hope of better conditions, but what was happening on Saturday was beyond him.

Throughout Charms, History of Magic, Divination and his after lunch beloved free period, he pondered the weekend's activities. Professor McGonagall revealed the answer in Transfiguration: now they were in seventh year, there were "no excuses for not prioritising and organising around enjoyment." In other words, there's no reason not to hand in homework just because it was a Hogsmead weekend.

As quarter to seven rolled around, Oliver made his way out of his "office" all the ten paces to the Gryffindor changing room, customarily ignoring the twins' mutterings.

"Just because he's got a box, he thinks he's all important."

"Never mind, Fred, we've got a broom cupboard."

His mind was on avoidance strategies. Not of bludgers or Slytherins, but of his fan club whom undoubtedly would follow him around hoping to be asked out to Hogsmead with him. Some third years were really unrealistic; one year later, they were so much more mature. He refused to let his mind wander into a vision of himself strolling along with a certain fourth year as she walked into the changing rooms.

"Oliver, this morning – what happened?" She returned the smile as he looked at her.

"Erm, I had a little encounter with Errol, but ahem, it's all sorted now." His mind screamed Change the subject and her gladly obliged, "Onto practise!"

Nearly two hours later they trudged mud from the soggy ground trailing all through the changing rooms. Exhausted Katie turned right as the boys turned left and dropped her clothes as she sank into the welcome warmth of the crystal liquid seeping warm from the tip of her nose to her toes. She heard the sighs of her team-mates as they gratifyingly sank into the pleasurable warmth. Three minutes later, two showers switched off to her left as the twins called to Angelina and Alicia that they would meet them in the common room in no less than fifteen minutes. A minute later she heard Oliver as he reminded them to get a good nights sleep before the match, "And don't drown yourselves, girls!" One by one Harry, Angelina and Alicia abandoned their showers in pursuit of more rewarding activities. As the door banged shut behind Harry, she thought she heard another male chortle, but she assumed that Ron had just come to find him.

Almost twenty minutes had passed before Katie felt thoroughly human. She stepped out and wrapped her towel around her, tucking the edges in at the tops as she searched the bench for her clothes. That was odd, Angelina and Alicia hadn't hung them up for her. Maybe they fell behind the bench? No, not there. She caught sight of a quidditch robe hanging inside out. As she turned it over, her heart sank as she saw the colours – green and silver.

As Oliver walked across the pitch pathway, he noticed a sparkly red object fluttering in the stands – two objects. He then observed Professor McGonagall stalk up to a gangly lad and haul him away, tucking the objects away with some other larger object into her robes. His curiosity sparked, he tailed them to her office, as he walked past she popped her head out. "Excuse me, Wood?" He stammered but her ice-cold tones cut in, "Would you mind taking these back to Miss Bell? She should still be in the changing rooms. Apparently I have yet to teach Mr Flint not to steal from others." She shoved some material into his arms and promptly shut the door. Although the door was shut, it still winced from the shrieks erupting from the room inside that probably reached the Headmaster's office. Oliver's heart soared as he listened to Professor McGonagall – if only the twins were here to listen to the true meaning of seeing red; that is until he looked down at the neatly folded bundle in his arms. His blood boiled and he wanted to storm through the door and slam Flint against the wall until – the realisation of what the Slytherin Captain had done hit Oliver hard as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. As he looked at the material in his arms, he realised what the fluttering sparkly objects were. On top of Katie's bell-bottomed jeans and floaty black gypsy top was a set of matching knickers and bra. They matched her bag, with sparkly diamonds around the edges, a pretty black pattern on each cup and the front of the knickers and a satin bow on each strap and in the middle above the pattern on the knickers. Oliver tore his gaze from them and scolded himself for mentally thinking how pretty they were – just like Katie.

"Erm… Katie?" He asked tentatively poking his head around the door. He caught sight of her as she raised her head, tears dribbling down her cheeks. She looked up at him the saw was he was holding. He was halfway into telling her who had taken her clothes when she stood up and flung her arms around him.

"Oh my God! Thankyou sooooo much!" She broke apart, her cheeks flaming. Oliver shut his eyes as he noticed the edge of the towel was slowly coming away from the corner. As his eyes closed her towel fell to the floor and she smiled, really embarrassed before noticing he had shut his eyes. "Oliver – you're a really nice guy, do you know that?"

"Err- thanks." He turned around, opening the door, "see you tomorrow!" He managed to stumble back to the common room and into his favourite armchair thinking about when he was talking to Katie, his speech became riddled with umms and errrs.

Later, as he stripped out of his clothes, he inspected his newly healed skin. He dragged off his jeans and noticed that his boxers were red today. This observation brought his mind back to Katie's clothes. He replayed the scene in the changing room, then replayed every time her lips had parted in an exclamation of shock. Images of her clothes mingled with three different gasps played over and over in his head as Katie lulled him to sleep.

As he drifted off he muttered to himself, Wow, red sounded amazing.

Reviews would be appreciated xXx