A/N: Once again, I failed to include everything I wanted to in this chapter, which means that this particular episode is just going to have to stretch across two parts. Sorry for that, but I really wanted to get all of this in…and to those of you who have been asking for more about George's school days crush on Katie, you'll find a little bit more in this update! As always, I hope you read & enjoy…and I'd appreciate a short review if you have the time. Love to hear that people are still reading. Cheers!
Friday came rather too quickly for Katie Bell's liking, and before she knew it, she was sitting on Alicia's bed watching her two friends throw piles of clothing from Alicia's closet onto the floor. It was about half past nine and Alicia, who had never possessed the ability to select an outfit entirely on her own, was discussing in great length the pros and cons of each article of clothing with Angelina, who was already dressed. Privately, Katie thought this show rang a bit false in light of the fact that Alicia was currently quite content in a relationship with Katie's own brother, but as she wasn't supposed to be privy to this knowledge, she kept silent. Finally, a miniskirt and a sequined top were selected, and the two girls turned their attention to their friend on the bed.
"That's really what you're wearing?" Angelina asked roughly.
"Yep," Katie responded carelessly. She had dressed that evening with rather little thought: a pair of tighter fitting jeans and a black top with black heels. She figured she had done well to include the heels.
"You should wear a dress," Angelina urged. "You never dress up anymore."
"I dress up for work," Katie pointed out.
"Yeah, drab colors and sexless blouses. What if you meet a cute bloke tonight?"
Katie's eyes narrowed. "I thought this was supposed to be a girls' night."
"It is," Alicia said sincerely. "But what if someone like, oh, a professional Quidditch player happens to come in? You'll want to look sexy!"
"My brother is a professional Quidditch player," her friend retorted, "and I've met most of Michael's friends, and they're all self-obsessed pricks, or crashing bores. I don't give a damn what I look like."
"Then put this on," Angelina argued, tossing her one of Alicia's dresses. It was strapless and pink. Katie crinkled up her nose immediately.
"Ange, this is ghastly," she said, horrified. "No offense, Alicia…"
"Wear it," Angelina returned definitively. "Or we go to a male strip club."
Katie threw a very loud tantrum all the way down the hall to the bathroom door, which she slammed shut. She did, however, change into the dress.
XxX
Dressed in her least favorite color and wearing more makeup than she had in about three years, Katie followed her two best friends into the smoke-filled bar they had chosen. It was located in a more seedy area of Diagon Alley, and the atmosphere was still questionable at best. The girls weren't willing to blow an entire week's paycheck on a classier version of the same experience.
The bar, renovated after the war's end and rechristened Victory Villa, was full of witches and wizards in lurid clothing, blaring music, and cheap-smelling beer. Angelina and Alicia, she could tell, were trying to make the situation out to be better than it was. Wearing overly enthusiastic grins, the pair of them squeezed through the mass of people and made their way to the dance floor. Katie could not think of a single place where she would be less happy being. More to appease her friends than herself, she joined them in dancing to a fairly popular song now booming from the speakers. Men bobbed around them; Angelina would smirk coquettishly and shake her finger at them, and Alicia would grin and shake her head "no." This did not do much to keep them from dancing with Angelina, however. Whenever the girls had gone out before the escalation of the war, she had been the queen of the night clubs. Most of her dates were men she had met at bars like this one. Alicia, perhaps, simply seemed too wholesome for her own good.
"Hello, love," said a particularly slimy looking bloke into Katie's ear, placing his hands on her hips. "Let me buy you a drink?"
She made no attempt to hide her disgust. "No," she said pointedly.
"One dance then, eh?"
"No!"
The man, looking affronted, gave her a nasty look and disappeared into the crowd. Alicia looked reproachful.
"Katie," she shouted over the music. "Be nice! Most men assume women whocome here want to dance with them."
Katie just shook her head. She knew she was being a crashing bore, but she didn't care. Bobbing slightly to the music, she gazed out into the crowd of desperate men and women and felt an overwhelming feeling of loneliness wash over her. A year ago, she would have been as shameless as Angelina now was, knowing that she had Fred Weasley to come back to. Nothing had mattered when someone had loved her. Someone who smelled of mince pies and firecrackers, and not of stale beer and bad cologne. She closed her eyes, swaying slightly, desperately trying to remember what it had felt like to have his arms around her waist; what it was to know she had his chest to lean against, his chin to tuck over the top of her head. Had she forgotten so quickly?
Before she knew it, Katie was shaking. What was she doing here? She dug her fingernails into her palms, willing herself to swallow back the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes. She would steel herself to this, she must. She would give her friends what they wanted—a Katie who was trying, at least outwardly, to live a life. Even if just for a night. She would get through this, she would.
XxX
Giving a particularly teasing smirk to the bloke who was now running his hands along her hips and laughing inwardly at what Lee would look like if he could see this, Angelina Johnson alternately watched the entrance and Katie Bell from the corner of her eye. Where the hell was Oliver Wood? She had absolutely given him the correct address. He'd even said he'd heard of the place—some of his teammates blew off steam here on the weekends. From the looks of things, Katie wouldn't last much longer in this place. To tell the truth, as good as it was to be dancing again, Angelina wasn't sure how much longer she wanted to be in this place with its smoke-filled air and unsavory patrons. A coquette by nature, she always enjoyed a little male attention, but this particular man was getting a little too forward. Flipping her hair decidedly, Angelina pushed him away and turned back to her girlfriends.
As she let her body move to the beat, the tall dark girl went over the plans she had put into motion for the night and considered them again. Surely it was the right thing to do. Alicia had agreed, and Alicia had always had the most sense in their circle of friends. That Katie and George should learn to spend some time apart was imperative, she was sure of that. The part of her plan that included Oliver Wood was a little less morally correct.
She wasn't promoting the match, necessarily. She did think that perhaps the optimistic and dedicated Wood might be good for her friend at some point, but she wasn't in a hurry to rush Katie into anything. More than anything, Angelina was anxious for Katie to seek comfort in some other form than George Weasley. And as Wood would certainly never push the issue if Katie didn't want to, she had almost no qualms in selecting him as that other form.
The problem was that she was doing it by stealth. She had deliberately set up a situation wherein Katie would most likely be miserable, and if that did turn out to be the case, would have an opportunity to escape with someone who could commiserate with her over how devilishly plotting and scheming and wrong Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet could be. And if she happened to fall for Wood along the way, so much the better. Both she and George could begin to move on and move forward in a healthier direction. That was, if Lee was operating things on his end according to plan.
And if Oliver Effing Wood would ever show up.
Where was he?
XxX
George Weasley shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his jeans as he followed Lee Jordan through the crowds around Wigtown's Quidditch Pitch to where his older brother Charlie and Michael Bell claimed to hold seats in the front row. As a professional Quidditch player himself, Michael had the ability to procure tickets to any league game at the drop of a hat, and had done so for that night. They were also supposed to be meeting a couple of friends from school—Ryan Carmichael, whom they had shared a dormitory with during most of their Hogwarts career, and his cousin Eddie from Ravenclaw, who had sold elicit substances to younger students preparing for their O.W.L.s. George and Lee had seen neither of the Carmichaels since their graduation from school. Well—Lee's graduation. George's decidedly earlier departure.
To own the truth, George didn't care much for seeing anyone that night. He wasn't even that thrilled about the prospect of an excellent match, which was unusual for him. As he mindlessly followed his best friend to where they were designated to meet their friends, he reflected idly on the fact that this would be the first match he would see live without his twin brother. George had always deflected the invitations to Wood's matches with the rest of their friends, coming up with some excuse or another. Now he was actually there, deprived of someone with whom he could pick apart every movement of the team's Beaters. At least no one would be pressuring him to bet his life's savings this time, he tried to convince himself. It was no use, however. George had been almost as keen to do something reckless at the World Cup as Fred had, and at the moment he was feeling he would willingly hand over his considerably larger life's savings in a heartbeat if it meant he could just relive that one night. Lee interrupted his reverie, however.
"Look, mate, I know you're sore about Katie and all, but that doesn't mean you're off the hook on trying to enjoy yourself tonight," he said, glancing idly over his shoulder in order to ascertain that the redhead was, in fact, present.
George scowled. "I'm not sore about Katie," he shot back, slightly angered that his best friend couldn't seem to grasp the deeper reason for his silence. He pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders, and began to cast his eyes about for signs of their friends. The end of October was turning out to be especially frigid that year, and he was eager to be in the temperature-controlled bleachers of the pitch.
"Whatever, mate," returned Lee in a voice which convinced George he didn't believe him for a second. "So what's the real reason you've been short with everybody all week, then?"
George said nothing.
"Look," Lee continued. "I'm not as on-board for this thing as Ange is, but I think she and Alicia have got a bit of a point. I mean, I'm glad Kates is living with us and all, but it gave me a bit of a shock when I woke up that Sunday to the two of you burning breakfast in the kitchen and her in your night clothes. And it's really only gotten worse since then, I mean—"
Grunting, George held up a hand to silence him. He already knew what Lee was going to say; it was what everyone had been saying since he had invited Katie to move in with him at the beginning of the month.
"Save it, Lee," George said gruffly. "You've already got her on your side, apparently, and it only takes convincing one of us to it. Just thought you'd be happy to quit after getting her to stop speaking to me."
"I knew you were sore about Katie…hey mate, look! There's Ryan and Eddie. Oi! Oi!"
George spotted the pair of them coming through the crowd as Lee waved them over.
"And they've got a couple of pretty birds trailing them…look at that," Lee pointed out. "One of 'em looks like she fancies you, George, old boy."
He glanced over carelessly to where Lee was indicating. A pretty blonde girl in a light blue parka and matching knit hat smiled over at him in a shy, but decidedly playful manner. George recognized that look. He had taken advantage of that look on females on several occasions in his Hogwarts days.
"Lee! Georgey!" shouted Ryan over the tops of a few peoples' heads as he and his cousin drew near. He clapped both of them on the back and general pleasantries ensued as the four of them made their way to where Michael had told them they were sitting. He and Charlie were already there, and greeted the four young men cheerfully. Soon Harry and Ron showed up, and the six became eight. They were a rather loud party, and George felt a familiar jolt of anticipation as the pre-game roar escalated and the two teams streaked out onto the field.
XxX
There were only two occasions upon which Oliver Wood would find himself so worked up about something that he would swear—Quidditch, and figuring out how to dress when he was about to see someone he happened to be interested in. And when those occasions came, he could make use of profanity with the best of them.
"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he shouted, his Scottish accent thickening with his rising anger. "Bleeding Christ!"
Wood usually paid little to no attention to his wardrobe. He owned several decent things, and never left Puddlemore House looking like a slob, but he was not accustomed to evaluating his dress according to the effect it might have on a female. He was going on a covert mission of Angelina Johnson's design, the judgment of which he strongly questioned, but one he had agreed to and intended to do well. After all, if he was going to do it, he might as well play the role to the best of his ability. A fine goal to be sure, but it now left Oliver evaluating the effect the color blue had on his countenance versus the color green.
"Going to see a girl?" said a voice near his door. Wood turned around to face Alex Leadholt, one of three Chasers for Puddlemore. He looked casually interested.
"So to speak," muttered Wood. "Meeting some people at Victory's Villa for a drink."
"Is it that bird that you only got one date with?" he asked curiously, ignoring Wood's use of the plural. "You know, the one who had to bring you home when you were all slumped over and passed out?"
Oliver gave him an ugly look. "Yes, Leadholt, that's the one. Clear out now. Still have to pick out a damn shirt."
"I can see that," Leadholt continued. "Say, let me come along? The other lads have gone off to Paris for the weekend, but I was a little short on funding…lost that wager on Portee, you know."
"I do know, as most of that was my money," Wood said shortly, finally selecting a dark gray dress shirt, and buttoning it halfway up his chest. "And no, I don't think you'd better come. You'd frighten away half the place."
"Oh come on, Woody, I know that place inside and out. I can show you 'round in case the girl gives you the slip again."
"She didn't give me the slip," Oliver replied testily. "Now, can you just tell me where the damned place is? I'm bloody late as it is…north Diagon Alley, is it?"
Leadholt gave him a look, paused, and then said, "No. As a matter of fact, it isn't. South Alley, actually. They recently relocated."
Wood considered him for a moment and then took off. "Alright, cheers, mate. Maybe next time!"
XxX
The Wigtown Wanderers proved to be an equal match to the prowess of the Appleby Arrows, and most of the match was going by scoreless. George watched in a slightly disengaged way, more distracted by thoughts of Hogwarts Quidditch than anything else. He was remembering the game in their second year which had gone on for hours; it had been a blindingly bright day in autumn and Charlie hadn't been able to spot the Snitch until four hours in. He and Fred had gotten so bored they had resorted to beating Bludgers at each other, and had inadvertently caused Katie to topple from her broomstick. Luckily, her reflexes had been so quick that she had managed to snag a hold of a few of the twigs and thus save herself from what would have been a few broken arms. She hadn't spoken to either of the twins for a week after that…
"Oi, Georgey, look who's across the aisle," Lee pointed out, once again interrupting his thought flow.
It was the girl in the blue hat that had smiled at George before the match. He had noticed her a few minutes after they had sat down; she had been attempting to catch his eye for most of the game.
"Yeah," George returned gruffly. "I saw."
"You should go talk to her," Lee urged, as the referee blew his whistle to signify a time-out. "While the match is paused, it would be a perfect time!"
His friend shook his head. "Nah," he said dismissively. "I don't think so."
A disbelieving look descended on Lee's dark face, his dreadlocks moving slightly as he twitched his head.
"I don't understand what the hell has gotten into you," he said. "You would have been over there about an hour ago if we were back in school."
George knew the truth of this too well to debate. He had never been one to pass up an opportunity with a pretty girl. Tonight, however, he simply wasn't in the mood, and he shrugged his shoulders in indifference.
"Hey," Lee said suddenly, his voice dropping. "This isn't, like a…" He checked over his shoulders to see if their friends were listening in on his conversation, but the rest of them appeared to be in a lively debate over which team had the upper-hand. "A…Katie thing is it? Because I know after the Yule Ball—"
"God, for hell's sake, Lee, would you give it a rest?" George interrupted, suddenly greatly agitated. "Why do you always have to jump to that? I tell you one thing, one time—when we were already exhausted and a little inebriated, I might add—and you take to forming the basis of my every action off of it! I was sixteen, and it ended when I was sixteen!"
"Okay, okay," his friend backed off quickly, obviously regretting going where he did. "I won't bring it up again, mate, I'm sorry. If you don't want to go for the bird, you don't want to go for the bird."
"I just really wish you'd realize that I just lost my twin brother six months ago!" he continued. He wasn't shouting, particularly, but it was obvious from his voice that he was rather angry. "I go through good periods and not so good periods, and I'd appreciate if you could remember that before you go assuming I'm enough of a prick that I'm only concerned about feelings I may or may not have had on one night four bloody years ago."
Lee looked really repentant. "You're totally right, mate, I was bang out of order. Let's just talk about the match, eh?"
At first, George didn't answer. But, as play resumed and he began to feel slightly ashamed of his irrational behavior, he made some slight comment about the excellence of Wigtown's Keeper.
"Oh, sure," Lee said enthusiastically, obviously glad to be talking about something else. "Course he's nothing to old Woody. They were practically smashed when they played Puddlemore last week. Oliver didn't let in a single goal the whole match. He's really sharp, Wood is."
George nodded in fervent concurrence. "Bloody fantastic Keeper, always has been," he agreed. Then he thought of something. "Where is Wood tonight, by the way? I mean, I thought this was 'Separate the Blokes and the Girls Night,' shouldn't he be here?"
"Oh, Ange didn't tell you?" Lee asked, now distracted by a Wigtown Chaser streaking up the field with the Quaffle under her arm. She feinted, reverse passed to her teammate, and dodged a Bludger to a roar of excitement. "He's going to the club with them. She figured Kates would need a friendly male face in that place, or some rubbish like that. Just in case she gets all out-of-sorts, you know."
"Yeah…" George trailed off as Wigtown scored and the crowd filled the air with deafening applause.
Suddenly filled with an indefinable mixture of both anger and depression, George Weasley stood up, pulled on his coat, and announced he was leaving.
"What?" Eddie said, aghast. "The Wanderers just scored the first goal of the entire match!"
"You've got to be barking, mate," Michael Bell piped up, turning from the enthusiastic shout he was sharing with Charlie. "It's finally getting interesting!"
"Don't be a downer, little brother," Charlie added.
George shook his head. "No, really," he said. "I've got like a bad headache or something…I'm just going to go lie down at the flat…"
"Was it something I said?" Lee asked anxiously, following George partway out of the stadium.
"Nope," the redhead lied, doing his best to reassure his friend who was looking sincerely concerned. "I just need to go to bed. Listen, though, thanks for this. Really. Tell Ryan and Eddie I'm sorry, we'll have to catch another match later or something…"
And leaving a truly bewildered Lee, George walked away from the crowds, turned on his heel, and Disapparated into the cold October night.
XxX
Angelina was now growing seriously concerned. When she thought she could chance it without Katie's noticing, she exchanged worried glances with Alicia. Where was Oliver? He was supposed to have been there an hour ago. Katie's spirits were low. She had ceased to snap at the men who were dancing around her, and was now ignoring them entirely. Her fingers were grasping at the silver band which hung on a chain around her neck. If Wood didn't get here soon, the night would be wasted. At least on that end.
The ex-Gryffindor Chaser did her best to rouse her friend out of the obvious state of melancholy she was in. Shaking off the latest man to attempt a dance, she moved over to Katie and took her hands, grinned warmly, and shouted, "Isn't this great?"
Before Katie could answer, however, Angelina spotted Oliver Wood's carefully combed head emerging through the crowded entrance to the night club. Finally.
"No, it really isn't," Katie shouted back. "Listen, Ange, I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to have to go home. I know you and 'Lic planned out this night carefully, but I just don't think I can take it. I'm sorry."
"What?" Angelina panicked. "No, Katie, you can't go. I—I think I just saw someone we know!"
But Katie shook her head fervently. "I can't do it, Ange. I miss Fred. I smell like stale cigarettes, I feel a damn fool in this dress, and I miss Fred. I'm sorry."
And without waiting for another word of protest from either of her friends, Katie Bell disappeared in the crowd. Her relatively small stature made her impossible to track in the crowded room of tall men.
"Katie!" Angelina shouted, thoroughly upset.
"Katie!" Alicia joined in. "Come back! Oliver's here!"
But if their friend heard them, she gave no sign and did not reappear that night.
XxX
"That bloody bastard!" Oliver Wood muttered under his breath as he finally came upon Victory's Villa. The shady little bar had not been, as Alex Leadholt had informed him, in the south end of Diagon Alley but at the north end, where Angelina had advised him to go in the first place. What had started as a mere late arrival now left him a full hour and fifteen minutes later than he had promised to arrive.
Leadholt had been annoyed with him for not letting him join him that night, Wood knew. Ordinarily, he would have had no problem spending a Friday night with any of his teammates, but he had not wanted to overwhelm Katie with another new face, nor face the wrath of Angelina Johnson for deviating from the agreed-to plan. And that bit of concern had now cost him an entire forty-five minutes.
Still, however, he was determined to salvage what he could. Maybe being late would add to the authenticity of Alicia and Angelina's faces when he walked through the door. Oliver entered the establishment to the usual stares of admiration from obvious Quidditch fans and ignored them. He quickly spotted the three girls he was looking for. Angelina was tall and easy to spot in a crowd, Alicia's bright blonde hair always gave her away, and Katie he had come to know simply by the back of her head.
Eager to be with people he knew and maybe get Katie out of this rather seedy bar, Wood made his way over to where his old Chasers were dancing. By the time he made it, however, Katie seemed to have disappeared.
"Oh, Oliver," Alicia moaned when he reached them. "You just missed her!"
"What?" Wood asked, feeling an unusual amount of disappointment hit him like a rock. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, you prat!" Angelina shouted exasperatedly, smacking him hard on his forearm. "How could you be late?"
"One of my teammates gave me bad directions," Oliver explained quickly. "What's going on?"
Alicia sighed. "Katie couldn't take it, and she left," she explained. "I think we tried too early, Ange…did you see how she was holding Fred's ring practically the entire night? Too soon, too soon…"
It was a mark of how sincerely she believed Alicia to be right that Angelina admitted defeat. "I'm sorry, Wood," she said, sighing. "'Lic is probably right. I'm not sure what we were thinking…"
Oliver forced himself not to be too disappointed. "It's okay," he said heartily. "You're obviously just concerned about Katie and George. Like everyone is."
She nodded. "Well," she said finally. "Shall we get a round of drinks, then, I guess?"
Wood considered this, and then nodded. He figured he might as well make a night of it, even if it wasn't the one he had planned. "Alicia?"
The small blonde girl nodded, and the three of them made their way over the bar.
"Well at least we got them apart for one evening," Angelina said, tipping her head back and taking her first shot. "That counts for something."
XxX