A/N: Hey guys! I'm so happy that so many of you loved the last chapter :) In particular I loved the reviews of brilliantincandescence, and Lena'sWonderland. I enjoyed writing it, too! I think the reason I love writing the exercise bits is because I feel motivated to work out when I do. I hope it works for some of you, as well. Of course, I also love writing the fluffy bits. And subplots.

The Sean-Bruna thing had been cooking in my head for a while... I like when OCs have some character of their own, and Bruna's my girl. I gotta look out for her, too, right?

And as for Oliver vs. Priscilla the PR Pogrebin (did anyone Google Pogrebins? Heheh), I always knew Oliver had balls. He's just far too nice (and concerned about other things) to fight people all the time. Teamwork is about peace and unity!

Chapter 15 - Sleepy Situations

The bath was helping. Katie's set-up was conducive to relaxing as it was to thinking: the she charmed her lavender bath to remain clean and warm, and made her bubbles float out of the tub and around the room. She'd need a good, long bath session because opening the season in two weeks had come as a bit of a shock to her. She did not expect to play so soon - she thought she had until January to fully integrate herself into the team. Immersed chin-deep in the water, Katie pondered if they were ready - if she was ready.

She'd made friends enough since she'd joined the team in late July, and Bruna and Wilda were easily the closest to her. She knew they were comfortable playing with her, and she returned the sentiment. They even spent time together outside of training, which was good. Annie was a bit distant, but Katie knew she was just naturally reserved. They'd shared laughs on the pitch, but Annie tended to leave soon after practice was over. She had a wedding to plan, after all. Vanna, while affectionate, also spent little time with the girls apart from training. She had two children: happy, chubby young boys whom she sometimes brought with her to watch them scrimmage. They were her biggest fans, but they also took up much of her time. As for Glinda, Katie never knew where she was outside of training, but Wilda informed her that their Seeker was probably seeing someone new. That, or Glinda just preferred to hang out in the spa with Coach King, of whom she was the favorite. And Gwenog Jones... well, Katie still didn't know where she stood with the team captain. Their relationship was still a bit awkward. They usually spoke in a group, when Gwen would try to goad Katie or vice versa. At the moment, Katie decided not to mind it.

When she pondered the games the Harpies had played against the conjured phantoms and the other Quidditch teams, she felt they did well overall. Out of the seven friendly matches, they'd won five. Yes, it was because Glinda made quick work of the Snitch, but in terms of scoring, they'd managed to keep things even if not better than the teams they played. She'd just have to keep focused and play smart. Soul on the Goal, as Oliver used to say. They'd be fine. She'd be fine, she assured herself.

She suddenly felt very proud that she'd been able to keep up. A part of her was - apart from Quidditch and the appointment here and there, she'd had very little time for herself. The last time she'd seen any of her friends was that time with Alicia. She hadn't checked in on Ange and George, or on her parents... Oliver was the only person she'd been in constant contact with.

For Quidditch purposes, of course, she rationalized.

But forgetting the others wasn't very cool. She resolved to owl them the next day, otherwise Gwenog the owl would be upset with her. After all, she'd just sent her across the island.

Katie lay in the warm water in silence, momentarily out of things to think about. She leaned back and allowed the floating bubbles to hypnotize her. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breaths slowed. Just as she thought she could fall asleep in the bath, she heard a muffled cry, an inexplicable, warped noise, and loud thud from somewhere inside her house.

Her eyes flew open in alarm. It couldn't have been her owl - Gwenog would be back in the wee hours of the morning, after she hunted. Katie listened warily for more noise, but none came. Trying not to slosh about, she stepped out of her bath, quickly pulled on a robe, and grabbed her wand. Casting Muffling Charms on her feet and on the door, she carefully pried it open and stuck her head out.

There was no one in her room, much to her relief. Clutching her robe tighter, she Muffled her bedroom door, opened it, and stuck her wand into her darkened living room.

She had to control her urge to gasp when she noticed her front door was open, and that there was a big lumpy figure lying motionless on her carpet. The lump was... breathing? Realizing that it was a person, she muttered the incantation to turn the lights on, and immediately pointed her wand back at the intruder.

"Oliver!" This time she could not control the cry that escaped her lips when she saw him lying unconscious, and dressed entirely in... drag? Disbelief and shock glued her to the spot until she caught herself. She ran over to his prone form and tried to flip him over, but realized that the shiny bangles he was wearing served to shackle him to his outfit. The tight, sequined dress he donned was very heavily suctioned to the floor, and the high heels his feet were shoved into were equally tight. They all seemed to be connected by a sheer gray unitard, which clung to his form quite rigidly. And the wig... Katie had no idea what any of that was about. Combined with his muscles, his body hair, and five-o'-clock shadow, it looked especially atrocious, and just plain wrong. (Not that proper drag queens didn't look fab, Katie amended. Miss Raul on the weekends was exhibit A.)

But why? Had Oliver come dressed like this? Why did he come in the first place? Or who had sent him here? Was he in trouble? Was she in trouble? What was happening!

"Oliver? Wake up!"

He did not respond. She tried and failed to shake him awake.

After checking his pulse and determining that he was just unconscious, she glanced up at her open door. She grabbed her wand and checked outside - nobody was around. As she walked back in, she felt herself step on something small.

She picked it up, realizing it was the Quaffle charm from her bracelet. It was the Portkey she sent to Oliver as soon as she'd gotten home. It had no effect - after all, she was already at the destination. Frowning, she went back inside and closed the door. She looked up and noticed that the gray security cube George had given her was missing. "Oh," she realized, looking down at Oliver. His unitard matched the cube's color. "So that's what it does."

Her poor Captain had been subject to yet another Weasley prank, and it did not look funny. At least, not to her. She made several attempts to change his clothing and wake him up, but to no avail. She leaned in close to try to pull his wig off - it didn't work either, but she did spot a large clip-on earring Oliver was wearing. Shaped like a disc, it had something engraved on it - "TAKE THIS OFF TO CALL GEORGE WEASLEY."

She did as it said and pulled the thing off, unsure of what to expect. A Floo? Another magical means of two-way communication? Less than a minute later, she was relieved when the earring warmed slightly and changed its text: "DON'T PANIC, KATIE. WAIT FOR ME. I'M COMING. - GEORGE".

It worked like her old DA galleon - nifty magic, that. Okay then. George was coming over. The relief Katie felt was suddenly overcome by a bout of self-awareness. She was still in her robe! She ran back into her room to quickly change, managing to pull on her dad's old button-down in time.

A whoosh sounded.

"Katie! Are you alright? Where is the intruder!" A voice came from outside.

"George!" Katie cried, flinging her front door open. "What diabolical thing have you invented!"

George stood there looking comically serious in his pyjamas. Without a proper greeting, he handed Katie her Bludger charm - the same Portkey he'd used to come to her housewarming party.

"Excuse me, Katie," was all he said.

He moved past her to inspect his handiwork, only to begin howling with laughter a second later.

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alright," he finally said mirthfully, turning around to embrace Katie fiercely. "I was afraid someone had come to abduct you. No wonder you were so calm."

"Who would abduct me this early in the evening?"

"Wood, apparently. Did he come to surprise you? The cube wouldn't have worked if you'd known he was coming." After a beat, he cackled, "Inside, that is."

"I didn't, but - hey. This isn't the time dirty jokes." Katie slapped his arm. Some things never changed.

George tried to look affronted. "I'll have you know that my humor is saintly."

"As evidenced by Ol dressed in drag?" Katie crossed her arms. She wasn't sure if she was more amused or annoyed for Oliver.

George chuckled, "Indeed. It works better than I thought it would. This is the first time anyone's gotten trapped by any of my little cubes, you know. Ange would've loved to see this."

"How is Ange?" Katie perked up. George stiffened, and merely shrugged.

"Okay, how'd you know the thing would work?" Katie changed topics, sensing his reluctance. She resisted the strong urge to bring up Alicia.

"Ghoul in the attic," George shrugged again. "Tested on him. Tried it on gnomes, too, but it doesn't seem to detect tiny creatures. Mum was so disappointed."

"Mm."

"Now, whether or not it's reversible on wizards, I don't yet know..."

Katie shoved him lightly and asked, "Please undo it. I've tried everything I know."

"Didn't you take N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration?" he raised a mocking brow.

"Yes, but apparently you've done something I didn't learn at Hogwarts."

"I dunno. I think it suits ol' Wood."

"George!"

"Okay, okay. No need to piss on my happiness."

He leaned over and yanked on a tiny gray cube on the back of Oliver's dress. Immediately, the fabric and baubles re-entered the cube as if they were being pulled and absorbed. Oliver was undressed, and the security cube was again in one piece.

Katie gasped. There he lay like a sleeping man-cherub. Bear. Handsome-manly-Adonis-whose-torso-Katie-suddenly-w anted-to-rub. Wait!

"I know, I know," George grinned at her shocked expression. "I'm brilliant."

"Er. Oliver is naked."

"Hmm? That's not entirely true." George took the cube and carefully replaced it above Katie's doorway. "Silly girl."

The Keeper, still out cold, was dressed in nothing but his boxer shorts. His broad chest (and manly sprinkling of chest hair) rose and fell with his deep slumbering breaths. Katie fought hard to control her blush, her eyes darting to anything that wasn't Oliver's muscled form. Even while he was completely relaxed, he looked so very... firm. Ugh, was it getting hot in there? She let out a soft whimper.

George circled Oliver and grinned at Katie. "Wow. Wood is built, wouldn't you say?"

Katie managed to make an exasperated noise. She wiped some sweat off her neck. No, it was bath water from her hair, right?

"What? It's the truth. Would you just look at that bum!" George taunted. "It's not much compared to mine, of course... Are you seeing this, Katie Bell?"

"George." She repeated for the nth time. To her chagrin, she felt her face getting hotter. She avoided taking the bait. "Is he alright? Wake him up!"

"Well, well, Miss Katie," George massaged her shoulders. "No need to fret! The wig's interior lining is coated heavily in topical sleeping rub, see. It's an Indian variant to our potions and its effects are almost instant. It's good you didn't get any on you."

"And him?"

"I didn't have the antidote ready."

"When will he wake up?"

"Oh, maybe ten hours? I gave some leeway for you to call Aurors, if need be. Or me. It could have been anyone, you know." George's face betrayed a little anxiety, his gaze drifting a bit father off for a moment. Katie understood, but...

"That's..." Katie glanced at her clock, "Six in the morning!"

"Plenty of time for him to rest."

"Could you at least give him some clothes?"

"Do it yourself!"

Katie hesitated before admitting, "To be honest, I've sort of been living like a Muggle these past few months. I can't remember how to dress him."

"Well, tough. Neither do I!" George gave her a naughty grin.

"Ugh! You're impossible!" Katie gave up. Concentrating hard, she managed to conjure a blanket, a shirt, a pair of shorts, and shoes. Trying hard not to ogle, she levitated Oliver onto her couch and then covered him with the blanket. She positioned the clothes on the armrest beside head, hoping that he'd see them and dress himself when he woke up. "There."

"Heeeey!" George fake-whined.

But Katie heard none of it. She breathed a sigh of relief and spun around. "Care to join me for dinner?"

.

.

"This is great, Kates," George declared, his mouth stuffed with the roast chicken breast the Harpies' house elves had delivered to them.

"And it's good for you!" she laughed, taking a spoonful of her asparagus soup. As she'd discovered early on, the infamous Harpies Diet turned out to be delightful.

"I thought they only fed you people brussels sprouts doused in vinegar."

"Oh, that's for breakfast," she joked.

George chuckled. "Whatever it is, you're looking good, Kates. Better than ever. Flex it now!"

He flexed his bicep, perhaps to compare with her. Katie gamely followed suit.

"Yours is bigger than mine!" he gasped.

"Is not!"

It wasn't. But her arms and shoulders were very trim, with cuts that weren't at all big like Gwenog's, but slender and nicely proportionate to her frame. Her entire body felt and looked stronger: she'd gained herself a strong core and a pretty neat set of abs, and even her legs got toned thanks to all the running and the yoga. And the Quidditch, of course.

"You've lost weight, too," George noted. "Not in a bad way."

"Nah," Katie waved an arm. "I'm actually heavier! All my fat's turned into muscle over the last couple of months. It's pretty cool. And here I thought Oliver was hardcore."

As if on cue, their former captain gave a soft snore from the couch and turned over. Katie's lips twitched in a small smile.

"How's the Quidditch?"

"I can keep up," she said modestly, "Though I get all these bruises and scrapes almost every day."

"Wicked. Show me!"

"The Mediwitches can heal the small ones almost immediately after practice," she said regretfully, knowing they would have delighted him. "The only thing that comes back is this pesky rotator cuff injury. But you can bring the gang over to my first game and I can show you my bruises then!"

"When will that be?"

Katie took a breath, "In a couple of weeks. George, we're opening the season. Against Puddlemere!"

"Cor," he breathed, looking at Oliver. "So soon!"

"I'll try to get you tickets, for sure they'll give me some!"

"Yes!" George exclaimed. But he got serious again. "D'you think you're ready?"

Katie nodded solemnly. "I've had a taste of how it's done. The friendly games weren't too violent, I mean, no one wanted any injuries. But I feel like when the real thing comes along, I'll be able to keep up. Yoga, you know. It's the shit."

"Really." George smirked.

"No. I prefer running. But I'm much bendier now."

"That might delight Oliver."

Katie sent him a withering look.

"Played against the ol' Captain here yet?"

"Nope!" Katie tried to look nonchalant. "But I'm sure it'll be exciting."

"Well, my bet's on you," George toasted his water to her. "I bet Wood can't do yoga. He's stiff as a board... get it?" he cackled.

"I'd give it a two out of ten." She clinked their glasses. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"How's the shop?"

"Doing pretty well," he replied. "I actually got Ron to help out. Once he got over resting on his laurels, that is. Bloody git he was about it, too."

Katie laughed. "Well, he did help save the Wizarding World."

"The key word being 'helped', which we all did." George leaned in, "But between you and me, Kates, the danger's not yet over."

Katie tilted her head to the side. Since she'd been cursed, she had less to do with the War than her other friends. While this was sometimes a point of regret, she was happy she'd at least fought in the Final Battle. But George - he'd been there the entire time. No wonder he was more serious, more tired than she'd ever seen him.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well," George said thoughtfully, "Voldemort's dead, but a lot of his followers are still at large. It's been only five months, you know."

"I know." Katie then remembered Fred, and got a little sad.

"Anyway," George said, "I've been supplying the Aurors with some under-the-counter spying tools and traps. Kind of like the cube."

"Is that what you're working on?"

"Yeah, they were pretty hesitant at first but now they totally dig the merch. It's like a whole second business!"

"That's awesome!"

"Yeah, as long as I'm helping. I met with some of them just earlier, and Kates," he said, suddenly serious again, "Be careful."

She frowned. "Why?"

"I didn't know you'd be playing at the opening, but I was chatting with one of Kingsley's men, and he said security will be very tight."

"Will Death Eaters be there?" she asked, alarmed.

"No, no, no," George said. "Well, let's hope not. I don't know the details, and I don't know what your management tells you. But there are some deep Death Eater ties in pro Quidditch, so they're taking precautions. Remember the World Cup?"

Katie nodded.

"They don't want a repeat of that," he said.

"By ties... do you mean teams? Management? Players?"

"Maybe all of the above," George shrugged. "I head about Joan Gafton. Then there's business with a bunch of other teams, Birch, I heard... It's pretty messy. Has your management told you anything?"

"No," Katie said, dazed. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen Lara Svityensky in a while. Not even Clips had made an appearance. It was alway Coach King sending them off to their appointments, be it at the gym, the spa ("Cultivating marketability!" Lara called it), or otherwise. "Should I ask?"

"Maybe not yet. I'll find out what I can and let you know."

"Thanks."

The pair sat in silence awhile. Finally, George got up and cheerily said, "Well, I'd best be off! Goodbye, love, I guess I'll see you at your game!"

Katie got up to give him a hug. "You'd better be there!"

A minute of laughs and goodbyes later, George was gone.

Katie spun around and gasped she saw Oliver asleep on the couch. "Oh yeah," she chided herself. "Silly me."

She approached and told herself she was adjusting his blanket. She lifted it slightly to pull it over his very toned chest. Then she pursed her lips.

As an afterthought, Katie swept some of his disheveled hair away from his face, lightly caressed his lightly freckled cheek with her pinky. She loved his freckles. "Gah!"

Okay, this was getting creepy. She ran back to her room, turned out the lights, and ordered herself to stay in bed. Forever.

.

.

Oliver awoke the next morning to the eerie sensation he was being watched. His back was also a bit painful. Had it been yesterday's play? He focused his vision to inspect his ceiling. A fan languidly spun above him - where was his playboard?

He sat up. Oh. He wasn't home. Fully alert, he suspiciously inspected his surroundings. Had he been abducted? Where was his wand? He was without it, nor was it nearby.

He appeared to be in a bungalow, with mild jade walls and white wood furnishings. His muscles relaxed. It was a nice place. He wasn't tied up, nor was he imprisoned, so it seemed safe... but how did he get there? That's right - a Portkey! He was probably at Holyhead! At Katie's? But how...?

The Keeper put the dots together. He vaguely remembered touching the Portkey by accident, and then landing arse-first on a porch that seemed to match the house he was in. So perhaps nobody had moved him. He had tried knocking on the front door, but no one answered. So he'd entered. Something rubbery bounced on his head, and then... black.

Oliver frowned. What happened?

"Hello?" he called. No reply. "Kates?" Nothing.

He got up and stretched, but the blanket fell off his body and he realized he was naked.

"Oye!" he said aloud, embarrassed although nobody seemed to be around. He gathered the blanket at his feet and draped it on, feeling silly. A nearby mirror confirmed he looked like an oversized... house elf?

Oliver thought saw something in the corner of the mirror. He turned around and confirmed his suspicions: a little house elf was boldly staring at him, breakfast tray in hand.

"Good morning," he said, bending down.

"Oliver Wood is awake," the creature said in wonderment.

This was most unusual behavior. Being from a pureblood family, Oliver had grown up with house elves. But perhaps unlike some Slytherins and blood supremacists he knew, he happened to be rather fond of the little things. Even so, he was more used to them being bashful and submissive.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Bootsy knows who Oliver Wood is," she breathed, indirectly answering him. "Oliver Wood is the second bestest Keeper in the League. After Miss Bruna. Miss Bruna is the bestest. But Bootsy is a big fan of Oliver Wood. I is been watching Oliver Wood all morning. He is a very handsome wizard."

Well. Oliver Wood didn't know what to make of that. This elf clearly had her loyalties, though her manner of speaking was certainly different compared to the elves that served masters and families. She spoke more casually, like a Hogwarts elf. But one thing was clear: if by Bruna, this elf meant Geyser, then he was in Holyhead. All the same he asked, "Bootsy, would you be so kind as to tell me where I am?" It didn't hurt to make sure.

She puzzled over why he would ask such a question before replying, "This is Miss Katie's cottage, of course."

Slight giddiness coursed through Oliver's palms. Not to mention relief. "Where is she?"

"She is asleeping. Miss Katie loves to sleep."

Oliver chuckled. That she did.

"Is Oliver Wood Miss Katie's guest?" the elf asked more brazenly.

He blinked. "Pardon?"

"Miss Wilda has guestses over sometimes. They are very loud... It makes Miss Gwenog very upset."

"I, er," Oliver frowned. "I don't think Katie invited me."

"But Oliver Wood slepts here all night!"

"All night! What time is it?"

Bootsy's ears wilted. She looked away from his face and over to a clock hanging in the alcove between two doors. "Bootsy does know how to read the times," she said pitifully. She wrung her dishcloth with worry. Oliver noted that it had a goal hoop embroidered on it.

"It's alright. It's..." he glanced at the clock, "6:15, see?" Damn, he'd missed his window for self-punishment.

"Bootsy is sorry."

"No need to be."

The elf seemed to perk up again. "Bootsy will be honored to makes Oliver Wood breaksfast!" she said, "So you can eats with Miss Katie! As her guest!"

"That won't be necessary, I -"

With a pop, the elf was gone, and Oliver was alone. Or was he? By no means was he a snoop, but he was wandless. He needed to find his clothes, and a way home before practice at ten.

He inspected the little hallway where the clock lay and found himself between two doors. The left one, he found, was a bathroom, and the right was a bedroom. He thought it was empty and made to exit until he saw a head move beneath the fluffy duvet. Of course, it was Katie. Poor fellow didn't know what hit him - he stopped and stared.

The early morning sun's rays peeked through Katie's wood-and-glass doors and chiffon curtains, giving Oliver quite the view of her back porch and the lake. But the real view, he thought, was asleep on the bed. Her hair caught the sunlight just right. It framed her face like a blondish-brown halo. Her sleeping face was as lovely as he recalled, her eyelashes fluttering slightly, perhaps from a dream. He grinned as she made to wipe a thin line of drool off her chin.

Katie seemed more tan than when he'd last seen her, too. He debated with himself whether he should wake her when he heard a chipper voice call her name.

"Katie! Are you up? Time for a run!"

His head darted to Katie's porch door, where a figure was peering in. None of his Quidditch reflexes could have possibly helped him when Bruna Geyser walked right in. And screamed.

"EEEEK!" She brought her hands up beside her head and shook them in surprise and terror.

"AAAAH!" Oliver yelled right back, frozen to the spot.

Katie groaned from her bed, but turned right over. She gave her bum a scratch.

"Geyser, it's me!" Oliver whisper-yelled, holding his hands up in surrender. He suddenly became very aware of his attire - or lack thereof - and clutched the blanket closer.

"Wood? Oh! OH. I thought I heard some noise last night, a few thuds, but I - Morgana, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking! I didn't know -"

Oliver caught up to what she was implying and scrambled to correct her. "N-no!" he waved his hand at her, "It's not like that -"

"Did you stay the night, then? Because that's completely..." she looked Oliver up and down, and then glanced at Katie's button-up shirt and messy bed. "Okay."

"I didn't plan this. It was all really sudden. I got knocked out really fast," Oliver tried to explain, adjusting his blanket a little. This was getting uncomfortable very quickly.

"Whoa. Easy now. Too much information!"

"No, what I mean to say is, I don't know what happened last night. Katie's charm whisked me away and then I came -"

"Laaa!" Bruna put her hands to her ears. "I know Katie's very charming but I'm sure I don't wanna hear this!"

"- don't understand, I was Portkeyed here and I can't remember what happened!" His ears were a deep shade of pink.

They hadn't noticed, but their simultaneous yelling had caused the slumbering Katie to sit up in her bed. She gave a yawn and blinked once. She saw Bruna in her bedroom. Bruna. Why was Bruna there again?

"Shite!" she yelled aloud. "I'm sorry Bru, I totally knew we were going for a run. I'll change, give me a minute!"

"No, Katie, I completely understand. I'll just be... going ahead?"

"No, wait!"

With unfocused eyes Katie stumbled to her dresser and pulled out a sports bra and shorts. Slamming it shut, she made her way to her door.

And stopped in her tracks.

There, looking terribly pink and out of place, was Oliver.

"Oliver!" she said, stunned. Had he been there the entire time?

"Kates," he said sheepishly.

"I'll... just be going now," said Bruna, turning on her heel and running off. "Don't mind me, carry on!"

Katie blushed. She'd been left alone with the same half-naked Oliver. Only now he was awake. And dressed like Cupid. Where were his clothes?

He began, "Kates, what happened to me last -"

"Where are your clothes?"

"I was hoping you knew."

"Well the ones you came in are probably gone - eaten by George's security cube. I transfigured you some new ones, though." She looked at his feet. It would not do to stare at his abs - she'd been caught looking before. "They're by the couch."

"Oh," Oliver said, stunned. "Thank you."

Katie watched his feet turn around and walk out of her bedroom.

"Found them!" he called.

"That's great," she replied weakly. She had to sit down. Oh, boy. She'd have some explaining to do.

.

.

A/N: I said I'd update soonish, and I think this is soonish given my track record, so. Ta-da! I'm sorry to cut it off here. I meant for the whole thing to be just one chapter but I got carried away. So the next chapter will be a continuation, and then I see there being one more chapter before the BIG GAME!

What do you think? Leave me a review! :)