AN: Apologies, guys, for the heinously long wait. Just had a major block, and, when I finally got over it, had some really frustrating health problems back at school. But, still, mostly inexcusable. Just had to get the plot moving along; next ones should be coming up soon!

Feeling fuzzy? What you missed: After recovering from a nasty fall, Katie's been drafter onto Puddlemere United. In an attempt to bond all the girls, Hannah (beater) has decided a girls' night out needs to happen, unconsciously joining forces with the engaged Alicia in her quest to get the ever-clumsy Katie in a pair of heels. An attempt to master waking in 'spiky deathtraps' led to Katie literally falling for - or onto - Oliver, who's just as inscrutable as ever. Romance and shoes aside, Katie's first professional Quidditch match against the Holyhead Harpies is fast-approaching, and who ever has time to pause for breath or dancing?

Chapter Seventeen
Sweetness
the sweetness will not be concerned with me…

The week passed in a blur. Coach was frantic, pushing all of us harder and faster in our practices, alternately tacking on extra hours, and berating us for not sleeping enough. Thursday night found me stretched out on the couch, my legs aching; Oliver hadn't even bothered to make it to the furniture, merely staggered to the floor in front of the television.

"Is he always this militant?" I winced as I rubbed my shins. He'd had us doing sprints and suicides. Why? How could that possibly benefit flying?

"No, actually," Oliver said, face pressed into the floor. "This is all you."

"Me?" I sat up irately, my back protesting violently. "Ow – what do you mean me? How is this my fault?"

"You're an unknown. And you're coming in for the last game before the season's break? It terrifies him. He's been trying to figure out how to use you best."

"Use me?"

Oliver sighed and rolled over to face me. "None of the other teams know anything about you. They have no idea how to plan for you. But if they watch this game – and trust me, they will be-"

"That's reassuring Ollie, thanks."

"-then they'll know exactly how you'll play and have a solid summer break to plan just how to play against you."

"Jesus."

"So he's been trying to spin this positively, and it's driving him mad."

The game tomorrow, against the Holyhead Harpies, was the last game of Puddlemere's spring season. The British quidditch season took a three-month break during the summer months to a) allow the teams some much-needed rest and b) to begin focusing practice on the British and Irish teams for the World Cup. World Cup teams were made of the best-scoring players from each team over the course of the season, and they'd – Oliver explained to me – already been more or less decided. He'd been beaten for that coveted keeper slot by the Falmouth Falcons' keeper ("It's not fair," he'd moaned, "he's like a bear on a broom. Of course they can't get anything past him, he covers all the hoops just by sitting still.") There was, of course, also an inter-league championship, but, Oliver had explained, despite their undefeated status abroad, they'd taken a real beating amongst the home teams this year.

Thus, everything Oliver had said was true. This would be Puddlemere's last game until September training began. I'd come in at an absolutely mad time; and were it not for Farrow's less-than-pleasant exit, Coach certainly wouldn't have made the switch-up.

"So what you're trying to tell me," I began, slowly, "is that all the pain I am feeling right now is a direct result of my involvement with this team?"

Oliver paused, finger in the air, debating. "…mmm…yes." he stabbed up decisively. "That is exactly what I am saying."

"Oh, bugger all this." I mumbled, and rolled away into the couch.

xoxox

Game day dawned bright and early, and I, against all odds, wasn't worried.

"I don't get it," Charlotte muttered, sitting down next to me, watching me tie my boots. "First practice, you were – no offense – an absolute mess. This is your first game, and I'm pretty certain you're less nervous than I am." She peered closer to my face. "Did Oliver drug you?"

"Nope," I switched to my next shoe. "I-"

"She's just good under pressure," Oliver had sat on Charlotte's other side, looking especially proud of himself.

"It's just a game." I shrugged.

"Just a game?" Charlotte stared at me like I had three heads.

I flicked my ponytail over my shoulder.

"Just a game. Just another game against another team. Totally not a big deal. Totally not a dream coming true or, you know, playing against my favourite team or anything like that ha. Ha. Ha."

Okay. So maybe I was a little worried.

"And there's that mildly manic smile I was expecting." She nodded. Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"'mildly manic'? You're starting to sound like Katie.

I grinned up at her.

"Am I rubbing off on you?"

Charlotte winced and plowed on, studiously ignoring me.

"On the plus side, no matter what happens, you're still stuck with me-"

"WHO'S EXCITED FOR TOMORROW NIGHT?" We all jumped.

"Dear God, Hannah. I actually think you permanently damaged my eardrum." I winced, tilting my head away from her. My heart sank. I'd almost forgotten entirely about Hannah's grand plan. The more I thought about it, the less I liked what I'd gotten myself roped into. Where were we going? What did I have to wear? Just thinking about it was enough to make my stomach a nervous mess. It just felt like a bad idea.

"Well?" Hannah wedged herself between Charlotte and I. "You're both all prepped and ready and heel-worthy, right? Because you know the alternative is not an option."

Was she encouraging me, or threatening me? I snuck a glance at Charlotte, who offered a blank stare, clearly as baffled as I was.

"Ugh, neither of you are any fun," she pouted as we continued to not answer her, both stunned into silence.

I was saved from having to answer by Coach's dramatic entrance. Hair and beard flying every direction, he strode in like an irate bear.

"Right, quiet down, you lot. I've had bad news."

We stared at him. I'd seen the same look of desperation in Oliver's eyes before a game; whether it was actually bad news, or just catastrophic in a coach's overly-obsessed mind was always up in the air.

"The bastards pulled a last-minute switch on us."

"What?" We stared.

"Isn't that… isn't that against the rules?" I began. "That must break some rule. Right?"

He gritted his teeth.

"It is. But. There's a clause – if a team member gets injured, they can sub in a reserve with no more experience than anyone on the opposite team."

I turned his words over in my head.

"Well…. That's good then, isn't it? Because I don't have any experience, right? So… it has to be another fresh reserve?"

"Exactly."

He stared grimly at me.

Uh.

"Am… am I missing something?"

"You were our unknown. Now, they've got one too – and I haven't even bothered to watch their practices or check their reserves, because the whole damn team was flying fine. Rude, this is! They're not even considering us a threat."

"Who did they sub in?" Oliver cut across Coach's increasingly irritated monologue.

"Gwen Bedlam."

"That's never her real name." I stifled a little laugh. Bedlam? What was she, a 60's supervillain?

Coach glared at me. I sobered up fast.

"It is. And they've kept her under tight wraps. Wasn't even second string at the start of this season. Playing left-wing chaser."

"My spot?"

He nodded, and handed me a picture.

Gwen Bedlam was grinning out at me, looking like hell on high heels.

"She's practically a Barbie!" I burst out, before I could stop myself. "An… an Amazon Barbie!" As far as I could tell in this picture, Gwen was tall, long-legged, had long, straight blonde hair, and a positively demonic smile. Oliver peered over my shoulder at her, nodding in concentration. My stomach twinged in jealousy.

"Alright. So, guys, I just need you to go out there and… and fly. Just don't even give them a chance to sink their nasty, cheating little fangs into it. Just beat them."

And he nodded at us, glancing around the room one last time before striding out, footsteps loud in the silent locker room.

I turned to Charlotte, feeling my face pale.

"Do I still look overconfident to you?"

Sweetness - Jimmy Eat World