A/N: I'm sorry for not updating immediately, but thank you all for your kind words and reviews for the last chapter! I'm at 200 reviews, which is crazy since I'm the worst at this updating thing. THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. I really appreciate your feedback and only wish I could reciprocate by updating more frequently. Between the last chapter and this one, I took a trip to France and got a job! I've also had to use a different laptop for work, which left me little time to fix this chapter up. Soooo a lot of this chapter might seem awfully familiar if you've read Freshly Showered til the end, but I've changed up quite a few things!
Another reason I haven't updated: this chapter is supersized, and so it took me extra long to decide what to scrap and what to keep. You have been warned.
Chapter 17 - Big Beginnings
"Good evening, witches and wizards, hags and warlocks, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys! Happy Halloween and welcome to our broadcast from Ilkley Moor Stadium, right here in Yorkshire, England. I'm Noah Winsome!"
"And I'm Jimmy Dunifer! We'll be your commentators for the evening, and we're pleased to report that the stadium is packed as we await the beginning of the first match of the Quidditch League's new season!
"We've got an interesting toss-up tonight, with Puddlemere United playing their lovely longtime rivals, the Holyhead Harpies. If you folks recall, both Puddlemere and the Harpies narrowly missed entry into the semis last season, but it's certainly not out of lack of talent! Puddlemere boasts the likes of twenty-two year old Oliver Wood, who won Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Keeper in the Annual Quidditch Awards just the other year. That was his first year off the reserves, and boy has he been a mainstay! Without a doubt he's in a class of his own; then of course there are his flock of ladies. They're simply mad about Oliver Wood, as well the other gents of Puddlemere United. They swept up quite some awards from Witch Weekly, haven't they, Noah?"
"Yes, I believe so. The ladies have missed their Quidditch men! Of course, thanks to the Dark Lord's shenanigans, we missed us an entire season, so we have yet to see what new things Wood and the rest of Puddlemere have come up with in the duration of the Great Quidditch Drought!"
"Yes, thank Merlin it's over! Puddlemere's even got themselves a new Chaser. Making his debut from the reserves is Roger Davies! Another Hogwarts product, a Ravenclaw. Captain of his team, a former nemesis of Oliver Wood. This lad was scouted by Puddlemere upon his graduation two years prior. He's not half bad, and shaping up to be quite the favorite amongst the ladies too! Perhaps he could even surpass Wood in popularity."
"But that's not to say that the Harpies won't be giving him and Wood a run for their money, because they've got a few new tricks up their sleeve! After having lost their star chaser, Joan Gafton, to the forces of the Dark Lord, many felt hope was lost for the Harpies, but they're bouncing back with fresh new talent in the likes of Katherine, or, as she prefers to be called, Katie Bell! And wouldn't you know it, when they contacted her, she'd been working in the Muggle world! That's because this nineteen-year-old rookie has had her own share of curses: did you know, Jimmy, that she fell victim to a nasty cursed necklace in her final year at Hogwarts?"
"Merlin's pantaloons, Noah. That was her? I guess it's no wonder she wanted to steer clear of magic for a while."
"Yes! The very one. Bell missed a few games at Hogwarts because of that. Fortunately she was healthy enough to help her house, Gryffindor win the Finals, and get this! She had already been scouted by not only the Harpies but also last season's champions, the Tutshill Tornadoes! She chose to play for the former, however, as a matter of sentiment."
"Indeed! That's quite an astonishing background for our pretty new Harpy. Nice paradox, eh, Jim? Have you gents seen photographs? A model, this one –!"
"Well, Noah! Thank Merlin that's all over and done with, and that Miss Bell is in tip-top shape! You-Know-Who is dead, the Quidditch Drought is over, and we've got ourselves a lovely, most festive Halloween eve for the sport!"
"Look at this illuminated stadium, folks. Freshly mowed grass, newly polished hoops… Stunning! What say you Jim? I'm very excited see what Miss Bell has to offer. She's got some big shoes to fill!"
The commentators gabbed on about their sunny predictions for both the game and Katie's career. Katie, on the other hand, was feeling no such cheer.
"I think I could use the fact that I was cursed as a good excuse for messing up entirely," Katie deadpanned as she listened.
"Hon, you'll do great," nudged Vanna. "Gwen and I have got you covered on both sides. Just play like you did at your tryout and they won't know what hit 'em!"
"You think?" Katie strapped her gloves on tighter. "They're comparing me to Joan Gafton."
"Get your head in the game, Bell," commanded Bruna, who Katie found was quite intense when she was in the zone. "Of course they'll compare. And not to badmouth the deceased, but you're a much better team player than Joanie was. She was a right cow. And she played real dirty too. Come on, you should be excited to cream Puddlemere! I know I am!"
Katie wondered if it had anything to do with Flanner. She decided not to ask. "Thank Merlin for Wilda and Annie," she mumbled instead. "I don't think anything's made me so nervous in my life."
"What's making you nervous! It better not be Wood!" Gwenog barked from her bench.
"Speaking of the lesser sex," she smirked at Bruna, "I don't want to see you acting like a bipolar cow in front of Flanner. It's a miracle he still fancies you after all the bizarre things you've pulled. But mark my words, I'll punt a Bludger right at ya if I catch you doing that snarling hair flip thing at him more than twice this time. Is that your special version of a rabid come-on?"
Bruna bristled at the accusation. "Dunno what you're talking about, Gwen. The game comes first, you know that."
"That's right." Gwen sounded almost patronizing.
"I don't have time for idiots like Flanner. Besides, he gets far fewer goals past me than he does past any other Keeper," Bruna huffed.
"And yet you can't seem to get enough of him each time we play Puddlemere," Wilda retorted. "You should see yourself. It's like you relish getting to turn him down when he asks you out afterwards! Don't deny it, you're expecting him to do it again!"
Bruna gaped prettily at her.
Katie was glad the attention had shifted away from her. She left her teammates to chat amongst themselves and glanced anxiously towards the pitch.
She had a lot of people to impress tonight. Her folks, George and Angelina were surely sitting together in the sponsors' box by now. She'd sent Alicia a ticket as well, with the warning that the others would be there, so she doubted her friend would come and watch. Then of course she had to impress her team's management, the media, the pro Quidditch population, and all of Wizarding Britain that cared about Quidditch... Oh, and Oliver, with whom she hadn't spoken in a fortnight. He knew she'd been practicing against his every strength, and he'd surely been doing the same against hers. "Yeah," she thought. "No pressure... none whatsoever."
Meanwhile in the Puddlemere Locker Room, Oliver was positively itching for the game to begin. Fiddling with the straps of his Keeping gloves, he bobbed about in place.
"What's up with you, Wood?" laughed veteran Chaser Sean Flanner. "You're usually more... stoic before a game. That or you feel like heaving. Halloween moon messing with your brain?"
"Mate, I'm excited, not agitated," paced Wood, smiling. "I have a good feeling about this game."
"Oh yeah? I think we've got a good chance myself. Think Bru's in a good mood?" pondered the Chaser.
"Dunno, mate. How long have you been barking up that dead tree?"
"Too long. I won't stop trying til she agrees to speak with me. I'm just lucky she hasn't hexed me yet." chuckled Sean. "And I just don't have the heart to shoot mine Quaffle through her golden hoops."
"But isn't that just what you want to do?" A heavy hand clapped on Oliver's shoulder. Roger Davies stepped into their conversation, thrusting his hips in a lewd fashion towards Oliver's head. "Figuratively speaking, of course."
"What?" Oliver scowled. "Get out of my face."
"Wood, I think Bell's gonna give us a run for our money just like she used to. You more than me, of course. And you'll be like ol' Flanner here and try to score that."
"Show some respect, Davies. I can still keep up with you whippersnappers. But apparently not with the times... So, Wood. Ready to destroy your schoolyard crush and any chances of ever dating her?" Flanner rubbed his hands together.
"Sod off," Oliver murmured, missing all the teasing. His mind was on the game. "She's not to be taken lightly. Great aim, better instincts. Nolan's got Davies guarding her. She was my –"
"Girlfriend," Roger interrupted. "Or he wishes," he cackled.
"Oh?"
"Chaser," said Oliver hotly. "She was my Chaser. Damn good, too. Some days, she could put goal after goal past me."
"Believe me, mate," Roger turned to Sean, gesturing his hands in a vague, mystical way. "No one would dare go near Katie Bell. She's so hot when she plays? Like, she was probably the only thing that could throw Wood off his game with a single hairflip. Wood here would glare at anyone who expressed remotely any interest in her. Look, just like that!" he laughed at Oliver, who was indeed staring daggers at him. "And after Wood graduated, Katie wouldn't even give us other poor blokes a shot with her."
"Do tell," begged Sean, listening closer. And then, "Is this going to be an issue?"
"She got cursed, remember," grumbled Oliver. "There wasn't much time for blokes. Bloody good thing, too, because her game would have suffered. Focus, the game's in five. And no, I can save just fine."
"Let's hope I can score past the lovely Bruna," sighed Flanner dramatically.
"I've got my eye on Wilda Griffiths," laughed Davies, ignoring him.
"She's five years older than you," frowned Oliver.
"So? I like my women older. They've got this... sexy power, y'know? And the addition of Bell just makes this little fixation of ours more interesting."
"How so?" the Keeper raised an eyebrow.
"Well, we always enjoy an eyeful of the Harpies, with the exception of Gwenog, of course."
"She scares me," shivered Sean.
Roger continued, "And now that Bell's on the team, even Oliver Wood has to take some interest, yes?"
"Shut it Davies." Oliver rested his chin on his arms. He'd forgotten how tiresome Roger could be.
"If that's so, I'd like to make a bet," smirked Davies. "If Bell gets more than five goals past you, you wear a kilt to the opening party tonight."
"And if I make more than five saves against Bell, you wear my kilt," Oliver replied wearily.
"I'm not even Scottish!"
"So? It is Halloween."
"Aren't you two overestimating this girl? Five goals, let alone five attempts, is pretty steep for a first-timer," asked Sean apprehensively.
"Oh you'll see," Oliver's smile betrayed some pride. After all, he'd trained with Katie from the start.
"Are we on or not?" goaded Roger. "Shake on it."
"Wait! I want in on this bet," ceded Sean. "Merlin help me. If I can't get five goals past Geyser today, I'll wear the bloody thing too. And I'm just as English as you are, Davies." He placed his hands over the two younger men's heads. "Are we on?"
Oliver and Roger stared each other down playfully. "Deal."
"Say Wood, did you shower?" asked Flanner, wiping his hand down his robes. "Your head's all wet. Don't tell me that's nervous sweat already?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah," smiled Wood to himself. "I just took a shower."
"Before the game? That, son, is sketchy behavior," jested Roger in a manner not unlike the Weasley Twins'.
"Force of habit, sorry mate."
George and Angelina sat next to Mr. and Mrs. Bell, waiting for a sign that the match would begin. They were decked in green, but bore stripes of blue down their cheeks - "A compromise," they assured Katie's folks, so they could show their support for both Katie and Oliver.
"But mostly for Katie," said George winningly, to appease Ed Bell. But Gladys Bell did not care - she asked them to paint blue stripes down her cheeks so that she, too, could support "their darling Oliver."
"I'm just here for my girl," beamed Ed Bell, "And for some Quidditch! What's takin' 'em?"
It was indeed a lovely night, and the stadium was buzzing with life and magic. The scent of Butterbeer, pumpkin pasties, and fresh-fried Barking Weiners permeated the stadium, which was filled to capacity with boisterous wizards and witches. George felt a particular frisson of excitement when he saw a lot of his seasonal merchandise being used by audience members.
"Hey, isn't that one of your Crack-o-Ween firecrackers?" Ange laughed, pointing at a small display of spiderweb sparks up in the stadium's rafters.
"Yeah, and those delinquent kids have got some of our Trick or Treat bombs! Look at 'em, up to no good." They watched as said children, Puddlemere fans, dropped their candy bombs onto unsuspecting green-clad grown-ups far down below. They broke and spilled what looked like a whole vat of blue slime on them.
"Trick. They make me so proud," George pretended to wipe a tear away.
"Uh oh, that'll be Security," Ange pointed out a few irate stadium officers making their way to the children. "Wheezes is gonna be banned for sure."
"Wicked."
Before they could see the outcome of that particular prank, a flash of lights and the boom of the game announcer's voice silenced the crowd.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WITCHES AND WIZARDS! IT'S TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME!"
The stadium lights dimmed as the crowd roared its approval. Wind formations lit up in blue and green spun around the stadium, blowing gusts at the exhilarated crowd. The people only cheered louder, thrilled by the display.
"Yeeees!" jumped George, and Angelina giggled excitedly beside him.
"ONE YEAR DORMANT HAS BEEN FAR TOO LONG! WE ARE BACK, GOOD SIRS AND MADAMS! THE QUIDDITCH LEAGUE OF 1999!"
"It's gotten quite loud here, isn't it, Ed?" Mrs. Bell asked over the noise.
"Pardon?" Mr. Bell shouted back.
"TONIGHT - ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? WE'VE GOT THE BAD BOYS IN BLUE PLAYING FOR YOU - GIVE IT UP FOR PUDDLEMEEEEEREEE UUUUUUUNITEEEEEEEEED!
"FLANNER! DAVIES! FAIRFAX! WOOD! BORODIN! WILSON! AAAAAAND WILLIAMS!"
Female shrieks rose above the noise of the crowd as seven blurs of blue zoomed out from the gates down below.
"It's Oliver!" Angelina clutched Mrs. Bell's arm.
"WHERE!"
The Keeper in question did a lap with his team round the pitch and past the box, waving, if somewhat perfunctorily, at the spectators before taking position by his team at the center of the pitch.
"He's got his game face on, Mr. Bell," George teased.
"Nothing my Katie can't handle!" boomed her father confidently.
The commentator continued, "GOING AGAINST THE BOYS IN BLUE ARE THE LOVELY LADIES OF THE LEAGUE, THE FIERCE, THE FANTASTIC HOLYHEEEEAAAAAAD HARPIIIIIIIIIIIEEEESSS!
"GET OFF YOUR SEATS! IT'S GRIFFITHS! GRANT! BELL! GEYSER! JONES! GERMONT! AAAAAAAAAND CHAPMAN!"
A streamlined whoosh of green took to the skies, breaking up into a choreographed entrance of dizzying flips and corkscrew spins that the Harpies were well-known for. Die hard fans screeched their support, and Mr. Bell was amused to witness a few of them sobbing out of sheer joy a few rows away.
Much had been said about Katie by the commentators while the stadium was filling up - predictions, pros and cons. He'd even seen that cheat, Brevis Birch, seated in their box. Ed Bell willed his daughter to prove all her early naysayers wrong. "Show 'em, baby girl," he muttered as he watched her take her place in the semicircle, at the edge of their line and next to Oliver Wood. His wife clutched his arm a little tighter.
The crowd simmered down in anticipation. Below, two assistant refereed held the official chest of balls, awaiting the head referee's cue.
With a Sonorus-ed voice, the ref announced, "I want a good clean match. Contact is unavoidable but illegal contact will not be tolerated. Play hard, play fair. Gameplay begins at the Quaffle's release and stops officially when the Snitch is captured. Do I make myself clear?"
The players nodded their heads. Mr. Bell didn't have the best eyesight, but he could see his daughter's head bent down, avoiding the gaze of... Wood? He couldn't be sure.
"Captains, shake hands."
Gwenog Jones, that terrifying woman, clasped Sean Flanner's hand and gave it a good jostle. The latter took it gamely, and the teams lined up according to the game's rules.
The referee made quick work of releasing the Snitch, and then the Bludgers, and finally the Quaffle as blurs of green and blue scuffled in the air for first possession. The match had begun!
"I got this, I got this," Katie chanted in her mind as she and Wilda pressured Isadora Fairfax on both sides. The Puddlemere Chaser had been quicker than they in the mad scramble for the Quaffle, and flew like a dart towards their goal. She could hear Fairfax snarling, and checked her periphery for the rest of Puddlemere's squad. To her right, she saw Davies moving in to intercept. Just when Fairfax made to pass the ball, Katie broke away and snatched it before Davies could.
"STEAL!" bellowed an announcer, "BY KATIE BELL!"
She flipped on herself and made for the other end of the pitch. Easily dodging a Bludger sent her way, she narrowed her eyes and sensed her other teammates. She knew Annie was close by, but Wilda had been held up by a furious Fairfax. Would first blood be hers to draw?
Heart racing, she looked up at her goal and saw Oliver, face etched in concentration.
"Shoot, dammit!" She could have sworn Coach King was screaming right in her ear. But as she raised her arm for the kill, she saw Oliver's face, choked, and passed the Quaffle to a bewildered Annie. The American fumbled it for a second but attempted a goal. Oliver saved it with minimal effort.
He held the Quaffle in his hands and met Katie's eyes. For a split second he looked almost... disappointed? Why had she passed that Quaffle? Why didn't she shoot? In the background she could hear the announcers Her face fell. She had but another split second to gather her bearings when Annie grabbed her by the arm and screamed, "LET'S GO, BELL! COME ON!"
"Shit!" Katie screamed. Oliver had lobbed the Quaffle long towards Sean Flanner, who very narrowly dodged Gwen's Bludger. He wove past Wilda's clawing, and Katie found herself unable to help as he threw the ball swiftly towards the right goal. Quick as lightning, Bruna saved it and glared at the impassive Chaser. That was close.
"Bru!" Wilda roared. "Here!"
The Keeper snapped out of her angry trance and threw the Quaffle. Wilda caught it, and Katie and Annie automatically flanked her on both sides to protect her. They soared up and over an oncoming Beater, and spaced themselves as they approached the goal. Wilda rolled left and passed the Quaffle to Annie, who faked an attempt and passed it, cross-goal, to Katie. Katie didn't even notice Oliver fly before her when she caught the Quaffle and forced it into the center hoop. She emitted a small scream.
"THE ROOKIE, KATIE BELL SCORES!" the commentator drowned her out. "TEN-ZERO, HOLYHEAD!"
The crowd in green went wild. Katie's teammates jostled her and patted her head in celebration.
"Nice one!" cried Wilda.
Katie saw Oliver's face for the first time since she scored and found a mix of pride and confusion in his expression. She knew he was okay when he gave her a tiny grin before passing the Quaffle quickly to Davies.
"It's on, Kates!" he yelled as she retreated to chase Roger.
She allowed herself to grin and urged her broom forward.
"The match has indeed begun, folks, and at ten-nil, this game seems to be going the Harpies' way."
"Yes, Jim, talk about setting the pace! This lass, Katie Bell, doesn't mess around, does she? Her first attempt was shaky at best but she's quickly warmed up to it."
"It's early yet but you can see where Coach King has planted her seeds. Solid work on her Chaser lineup there and - WHOA! Nasty collision between Gwenog Jones and Philly Wilson over that Bludger."
"Well, she's Gwenog Jones, mate!"
"Borodin and Germont playing nice on the other side of the pitch - OH! Wilson punts it hard to disrupt that Harpies V and he succeeds! Puddlemere ball. Jones is not happy -"
"Isadora Fairfax with the steal, wide open for the fast break - easy pickings, I think, AND SHE SCORES! Into the center hoop to even out this match ten-all! Geyser passes the ball to Bell - Bell to Griffiths, corkscrew turn past Flanner, passes to Grant, Grant shoots - great angle - NO GOOD!"
"Where did Wood come from! Wood to Davies, Davies to Fairfax. Fairfax snaps the Quaffle back to Davies - NO! Bell intercepts!"
"Bell passes to Griffiths, fancy finger roll - a fakeout - KATIE BELL SCORES!"
"THIS GIRL IS EITHER BLESSED WITH BEGINNER'S LUCK OR SHE'S A TOTAL DYNAMO! TWENTY-TEN, HARPIES! I LOVE THIS!"
"Wood doesn't know what hit him! He must mean business now. Quaffle to Flanner -"
"Flanner's assembled his squad in a mean reverse-V. They're not letting that Quaffle go!"
"Yes, Puddlemere is usually bigger on defense - slow starters, though! You can't even tell who's holding that ball! Harpies Chasers looking for a way to penetrate. So far no good -"
"No rush, eh, Noah? Germont and Jones seem to be struggling - they can't break those Bludgers free from the Iron Brothers!"
"There it is, Jim, Flanner taking it down to the grass. Tosses it up to Fairfax - Fairfax surrounded! Barrel roll over Davies - pass to Davies, slim chance at a block by Griffiths - and SCORE! Davies' first goal for Puddlemere!"
"MERLIN, this is shaping up to be one heck of a match. Twenty-all, now, folks, if you're seeing this on the wizzy telly, don't go anywhere!"
Up in the box, Gladys Bell was frantic. "Katherine!?" she screeched as her daughter, clutching the Quaffle, collided brutally with Roger Davies.
"Is this game always so... ungraceful?" The game, all fifty-three minutes of it, had gone on quite long enough, thank you, and with the score neck-and-neck at seventy apiece, Mrs. Bell had had quite enough.
Her protests were drowned out as Katie screened Davies to assist Wilda Griffiths as she scored a long-range goal.
"YES!" jumped Katie's father to the announcers' cry of, "WILDAAAA GRIFFITHS! HARPIES LEAD EIGHTY-SEVENTY!"
"When does it end, Ed!"
"When they catch the Snitch, love!"
"Which is when! Katherine needs to get down from there!" she tugged at his sleeve as the CRACK! of a Beater's bat against a Bludger resounded through the pitch. "Immediately!"
"Just enjoy," Ed began to say, when the crowd hissed and went, "Oooooooohhhhhhh." It seemed the Bludger had met its target.
The crowd craned their necks as the announcer stated, "NEIL BORODIN'S BLUDGER MAKES CONTACT WITH WILDA GRIFFITHS' SHOULDER FROM THE FRONT!"
"SHE'S STRUGGLING - CAN SHE PULL HERSELF BACK ON THAT BROOM WITH ONE ARM?"
"YES! SHE'S DONE IT! BUT SHE'S IN POOR SHAPE - HER SHOULDER SEEMS TO BE OUT OF COMMISSION FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT!"
"GAMEPLAY STILL ONGOING - GRIFFITHS REFUSES TREATMENT, BUT THE HARPIES NEED TO MAKE SOME MAJOR ADJUSTMENTS!"
"Ed," whispered Gladys, shaken, "Is that girl alright?"
"It's part of the game, honey," he said somberly. Griffiths was struggling, he knew, and while that part of the game had never bothered him before, it was different knowing his daughter would be in more danger. The game changed whenever any one player got taken out of the equation. Griffiths was down but not out, but still, Katie and Grant would have to step up their game.
George leaned over, and as if he could read Mr. Bell's mind, he said, "Don't worry, Mr. Bell, Katie's totally Bludger-resistant! She once -"
CRACK! The vindictive sound of another Bludger meeting its mark rang out through the stadium.
"AND BORODIN'S BEATING ARM HAS BEEN TAKEN DOWN BY GWENOG JONES' BLUDGER! TALK ABOUT REVENGE, FOLKS!"
"IT LOOKS - YES, HIS ELBOW'S DEFINITELY DISLOCATED! IT SEEMS JONES HAS BROKEN SOME BONES, TOO!"
"HE'S GONE DOWN FOR MEDIWITCH ASSISTANCE!"
"Less to worry about now, eh, George?" Mr. Bell breathed a sigh of relief as the game moved on.
"Eight goals," snarled Oliver to himself. Three from Griffiths, one from Grant, and, unsurprisingly, four from Katie. He was at odds with himself - happy, of course, that Katie was performing so well, and endlessly frustrated that he'd let more than his average number of goals in. Eight goals out of nineteen attempts - that was around a 40% miss rate compared to his average of 76% blocking stats. Bad.
But now wasn't the time to do math - the game was about to change. He'd been shocked back into consciousness when Neil had been struck down, his injury enough to render the Puddlemere boys more prone to danger now that Gwenog Jones had taken sole custody of the other Bludger.
As far as he could tell, his team was struggling on the offensive end. They'd done their role in defending against the Harpies, but on the scoring end they'd made far fewer attempts.
That means I've got better stats than Geyser - STOP THAT! he chided himself mentally. His team needed to get to the goal faster and more aggressively.
He raised himself above the goalposts to get a clearer view. He checked on their Seeker - Benjy had perched himself above mid-field, ignoring the ruckus, save for minding the Bludgers. The Harpies' Seeker, who hovered nearby, was beginning to look frustrated - still no sign of the Snitch, and the pressure was on them to end this match early. In the fray, Griffiths was using herself as a screen in spite of having only one good arm. She was currently thwarting Flanner's attempts to steal the ball from Grant, a player whom Oliver felt hadn't quite figured him out yet. If Holyhead was smart (and they were), they'd give the Quaffle to Katie at least seven times out of ten now that Griffiths was out of the picture. Or maybe that was his bias.
As he'd predicted, Katie passed the Quaffle to Annie Grant, only to have it chucked back as they neared the goal as a tandem. Griffiths trailed behind them like a mother dolphin if only to ward off Isadora's claws. That woman could scratch like a nasty cat.
It was him versus Katie now, her face etched in concentration. She'd stopped looking at his own face ages ago, and it seemed to help her.
"Left," he predicted. "Right - no, left." Katie flew her broom towards his left, and in a moment of hesitation, her eyes darted right. Oliver was there before the Quaffle was.
"SPECTACULAR SAVE BY OLIVER WOOD!" he heard the announcer as he watched Katie retreat.
He scanned his vicinity and tossed the ball to a breathless Sean Flanner.
"What, no barking orders?" the Chaser teased briefly. "Must be love!"
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Get 'em," he called halfheartedly.
He continued his analysis as the Quaffle made its way to the other end. Without one of their Beaters, Puddlemere's defense was just keeping them afloat thus far. And even their offense was hardly up to par - Flanner historically scored poorly against Geyser, and Davies had yet to crack her code. Fairfax, he felt, could have been a Harpy the way she could read the Keeper. True enough, Bruna deflected a shot by Flanner, only for the Quaffle to be scooped up by a wide open Isadora and swept into the far hoop. Tied game.
He crouched down on his broom, ignoring the cheers from the crowd. If he read the oncoming play correctly, the Quaffle would be Katie's to score, or his to save.
Katie couldn't explain it, but she felt in her gut that this game was about to reach its climax. Adrenaline pumping through her veins and her pulse hammering in her ears, she urged her broom forward to catch up with Annie.
She could feel her teammate's frustration emanating in waves - Annie never said it, but she didn't take very well to missing goal after goal. But timeouts were rare in their sport, and as such, their only choice was to adjust and roll with the Bludgers.
"KATE!" shouted Annie hoarsely. Isadora Fairfax had made a swipe at her teammate, but Katie was still too far to be able to help. Wilda flew along helplessly, gritting her teeth against the pain. Katie broke free from Davies, who was shadowing her, and used her broom and her body to come in between Fairfax and Annie. Fairfax swore at the shove. "Oops."
She took the Quaffle from Annie and flew up, higher, higher. But if she thought she'd be alone she was most certainly wrong: Fairfax followed along, as did Davies. From her periphery she could see them setting her up for a double team sandwich with maybe a Bludger on the side. Sharply she rolled down, letting them collide, and threw the Quaffle.
"Annie!"
The American caught it and nodded at her and they flew side-by-side, Wilda flying above them to block Puddlemere's Chasers.
Katie watched for any danger. Gwen had Sean Flanner struggling, and Vanna had the remaining Puddlemere Beater under good control. Up ahead, Oliver Wood guarded the center hoop.
"Now?" she nudged Annie.
"Wait," Annie snarled. "Wait... wait... NOW!"
Annie discreetly shoved the Quaffle into Katie's grasp as they launched themselves into identically mirrored loops towards both sides of the goal. As Katie drew herself to shoot, she realized Oliver didn't take the bait. She caught a glimpse of his frown as she made to release the ball, a mistake she immediately knew would cost her.
"ROOKIE!" screeched Wilda. Katie shook her head. She'd hesitated. SHIT!
Oliver jerked forward and punched the Quaffle away, but Wilda miraculously deflected it back to Katie, who caught it and jammed it into the center hoop. Oliver slapped the side of the rightmost hoop with what Katie knew was frustration at himself.
High above them, Fairfax was beginning to blame Davies for "being a complete, utter pillock! Why didn't you let me get down there, you titfuck?" He only laughed.
Katie tried to block Oliver's way as he made to throw the Quaffle to his arguing Chasers. "OY!" he cried at them.
But just as he made to release the Quaffle, the crowd began to cheer and the game stilled as two blurs of green and blue darted towards a little glimmer of gold near the base of the Harpies' goals.
Gwenog fired a Bludger at Williams but he was too quick - she missed him entirely. Vanna followed suit, albeit halfheartedly.
"YES FOLKS, THEY'VE SPOTTED THE SNITCH! IT'S ANYONE'S GAME AS CHAPMAN AND WILLIAMS RACE TO CATCH IT!"
"NO NICETIES HERE! WILLIAMS SHOVES CHAPMAN OUT OF THE WAY, SHE RECOVERS WITH A NICE CORKSCREW! SHE'S NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT. CATCHES UP EASILY WITH WILLIAMS - ARMS OUT, BROOMS KNOCKING, WHO'S IT GONNA BE?!"
Katie covered her mouth with both hands as the two collided hard and their brooms splayed out, throwing them both off balance as they reached their destination and rolled on the grass in a tussle. And lay still. For the first time that night, the crowd was deathly silent.
Shaky, slowly, both Seekers rose, and one of them raised their arm to display the captured Snitch.
Katie screamed, but her voice was drowned out by the crowd. They won. THEY WON! Glinda was in near hysterics as she waved the golden ball, and the crowd in green roared in approval.
"GLINDA CHAPMAN CATCHES THE SNITCH TO END THIS HISTORIC MATCH IN ONE HOUR, THIRTEEN MINUTES! HOLYHEAD DEFEATS PUDDLEMERE UNITED 230-80! WHAT A RUSH! WE ARE BACK, FOLKS! QUIDDITCH IS BACK!"
As the sky filled with green fireworks, the audience cheered and hugged one another, singing an old team song in harmony. This wasn't just about the Harpies' victory; no, it was about the unity they felt and shared with return of a glorious sport they'd all missed under the oppression of Voldemort.
Katie held back a sob as she hovered on her broom. She'd just played - and won - her first professional match, and she was overwhelmed by the largeness of it all. She turned to see Oliver still clutching the Quaffle and looking at her with a big grin on his face.
"You're... not upset?" she asked with a watery giggle.
"Really, Kates? You were... c'mere." He dropped the Quaffle and pulled her in for a celebratory hug. She returned it eagerly, happily sobbing into his jersey. She shouldn't have been surprised by how good he still smelled. It was just... Oliver.
"Why are you crying?" he laughed and rubbed her shoulders. She felt his chest rumble against her cheek. "You did fantastic."
"Because Quidditch. You lost," Katie wailed. "I always rooted for Puddlemere."
"Well, you won, you daftie," Oliver said. "Reckon it's the first time I'm not totally destroyed."
"Not gonna drown yourself in the showers?"
"No, but if I don't let you go, Jones might pummel me." Katie pulled away and saw her teammates in a group hug - one she was conspicuously missing from. Gwen was at the center, glaring at her and Oliver.
"Oh."
"That, or we could fall out of the sky," the Keeper shrugged. As it was, they hadn't moved from the scoring area. But he was oddly calm, at ease.
"Sorry, Captain. I'll, uh, see you later?" she gave him a small smile.
"Count on it," he grimaced a little.
Katie didn't have time to ponder his expression as she flew, apologetically, to meet her teammates and complete their hug.
"What was that, Rookie?" Jones huffed. Coach King looked on, impassive.
"I'm sorry, I -"
"Give her a break," Bruna rolled her eyes. "She did good tonight. Real good. And she deserves to hug her friend if she wants to."
"Well," the Captain brushed it off, "Tonight we're gonna celebrate! Harpies on three! ONE, TWO, THREE -"
"HARPIES!"
The team broke, cheering, and Katie looked back. Oliver had left, as had the rest of Puddlemere, save for a stoic-looking Sean Flanner. But some very important people were still waiting for her in the stands.
"POP! MUM!" she called as she flew to them. "George, Ange, I'm so glad you came!" She landed and made to embrace them.
"Katherine, dar-ling," her mother sing-songed, "You're perspiring!"
Katie laughed and hugged her first. "Katherine!" Gladys cried, but sighed and hugged her daughter back.
Ed joined his arms around the both of them and proclaimed, "I'm so proud of you, baby girl." He gamely gave her a kiss on her sweaty forehead.
"Thanks, Pop, I hope you come to every game." Katie sighed contentedly. As she turned towards her friends, she saw them pull their hands away from each other awkwardly. In the corner of her eye, anyway. She pretended not to have seen, and said, "Well? How'd it go?"
"So-so," said George nonchalantly, "Would have been more exciting if Jones had taken out both Borodin's elbows. I mean, it was okay. You were pretty so-so, too."
Angelina rolled her eyes. "You did amazing, Kates. But you don't need me to tell you that."
Katie laughed and noticed the empty seat next to theirs. "Did, um, anyone take this seat?"
"Er, no. Did you invite someone else?"
She needed only to meet Angelina in the eye for her friend to understand her meaning. "Oh," Ange said. "She, uh, she didn't come."
George looked away, and Katie nodded. It would be some time, but she couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed at Alicia's absence.
A field assistant came flying into their box to call Katie away.
"What?" she asked. "But it's so early yet! It's only seven!"
"Yes, Miss Bell, but your manager wants you all to get ready for the Opening Gala. I am also to pull Miss Jones and Miss Chapman from the press conference in five minutes' time. You are to be debriefed by Coach King as you prepare. The main dinner will begin, but the Harpies and Puddlemere are set to enter as the dancing begins."
"Well, what are you waiting for!" Mrs. Bell pushed her forward. "Get yourself clean, my love, and into a beautiful dress! And take pictures! With Oliver!" she winked.
"Muuuum."
"Humor your mother, baby. She's almost had a heart attack just watching you do your thing. Just... don't die in those death trap shoes, eh?"
"You men and your logic!" cried his wife. "Go, my love! We'll have dinner soon. All of us."
"Yeah, Kates!" Ange promised. "Sooner if you get us season passes!"
"I still can't believe you got me to wear this monstrosity," Davies adjusted himself in the kilt he'd borrowed from Oliver. "I can't believe you own more than one! Actually, no," he held up a finger, "I can't believe you Scots wear these at all! They're itchy! And the breeze is unnatural. And be honest, Wood, does my butt look big in this?"
"Shut up, Davies, you lost your bet. And so did I." Oliver stood, showered and groomed, in his best kilt, before the mirror in his flat. He straightened his coat and bow tie as he ruminated on the uncanny game statistics Katie had churned out. A whopping eleven attempts at the goal, five of which had gone into the hoops and sent him into his Scottish attire. That gave him six saves against her, which accounted for Davies' similar predicament. But her performance against his Keeping was above and beyond what anyone expected of her, and that made his chest swell with deep pride. He knew, though, that he could take no credit - it was all her.
"I bet Flanner's gonna have a laugh at us now. But even I must admit my calves look extra manly in these socks, yeah? Sexxxxx."
"Beg to differ, Davies," Oliver cocked a brow, "Because Flanner only scored two goals against Geyser."
"No. Way." Roger's face cracked up with glee.
As if on cue, Sean Flanner stepped out of Oliver's bathroom. "Well?" he grimaced.
"Catch me, Wood, I've fallen in love." Davies pretended to faint onto Oliver's bed.
"Tartan becomes you," Oliver grinned at their Captain.
"Look at us," Flanner looked a bit green in the face as he inspected their reflection in the mirror. "Buncha chumps. Let's go, boys."
"I'm gonna vomit," Katie said, "If you don't slow down." Miss Raul, gleefully dressed in drag, was having a field day seeing to everyone's gowns, hair and makeup. As soon as they'd arrived by Portkey, he arranged Mediwitches to tend to all injuries, tossed the team into the showers, sat everyone (including an irate Gwenog Jones) down in the Harpies' salon facility, and snapped at his assistants to get moving. He personally did Katie's hair, a process which involved a magical spinning chair that got Katie dizzier than any broom she'd ever ridden.
"Honey," Miss Raul said, "It is eight o'clock. You girls are supposed to be at the venue in half an hour! Now open your mouth."
Katie did as she was told, and Miss Raul popped a candy in her mouth. "Chew. Swallow."
It tasted so familiar. "Blueberries," she thought as she swallowed, and her eyes bugged out with realization. "Wheezes!" She clutched her boobs in despair. "YOU DIDN'T!" she cried.
Miss Raul cackled and said, "Oh, honey. Look at mine. Not a piece of stuffing in sight! Fantastic!"
"But you're in costume." Katie sat back in her seat and pouted as her breasts began to grow. It was gonna be a long night.
She let Miss Raul finish her hair and put her into a fantastic dress - a deep sapphire blue halter gown of fine chiffon and satin. Its hem boasted a trail of subtle iridescent beading, and Katie gasped at its movement as she twirled around in her matching heels. Her hair cascaded in luscious brown waves down her back, and framed the diamond studs in her ears just right.
"You look gorgeous," Miss Raul pretended to wipe a tear away. "Like the midnight sea I imagined you to be dressed as."
"This hardly counts as a costume, but thank you," Katie gushed. "I didn't think I could ever look... like this."
"There was never any doubt." He handed her a black mask.
He ushered her, Vanna, and Annie into the Harpies' atrium, where her teammates waited in their evening attire. Everyone looked amazing, including Lara, Coach King in her baby blue gown, and Gwen in her black pantsuit. (There was no forcing a woman like Jones into a dress, sighed Miss Raul, which was a real pity to those like him who had to wait for special occasions to get all gussied up.)
Katie gasped at Bruna and Wilda, who looked like perfection. Bruna wore a classic black gown with the red lips to match, and with the jewels round her neck and her deep mahogany waves she looked like a silent film star. Wilda stood out in a column gown, which was simple in cut but bold in its jewel-toned, magenta color. It matched the new streak in her jet-black hair.
"How's your shoulder?" Katie asked Wilda.
"All patched up," she grimaced, sweeping her hair aside for Katie to inspect. It was as if her bruises weren't ever there. "See?"
"What are you dressed as?"
"The hottest eggplant on the planet. From the 60s."
"Cool. Hey, Bru, you look hot."
Bruna looked down at her fingers and wrung them.
"No, really!" Katie laughed.
"You three are a vision!" Miss Raul was in ecstasy. "I must have a photograph. Or a whole shoot! I'm booking a day, ladies. Everyone! Masks on! Now!"
"Shall we?" Coach King rolled her eyes. The girls reached for the Portkey.
"Watch your shoes, girls!" was Miss Raul's last call before they spun away.
"Alright there, Flanner?" Oliver asked his teammate. They hadn't been five minutes at the gala and Flanner was acting odd. He knew he was pretty dense, but the nervous energy stemming from Flanner was contagious. Even he felt a bit peaky, but he doubted it was for the same reason. "Is it the kilt?"
"No, mate." Flanner shook his head. "Er."
Most unusual for the loquacious Chaser.
"Is it... because we lost?" Oliver tried again.
Flanner ran a hand through his coiffed hair and sighed. And as if Oliver weren't even there, he walked away, a frown disturbing his brow.
"Alright, then."
They'd been placed in an elevated waiting room of sorts as the grand dinner, attended by the who's who of Quidditch and Wizarding society, commenced in one of the fancy rooms below. He much preferred it, though: they were provided all the food the guests below were, but didn't have to sit stiffly at the banquet and make small talk. He hated small talk. And he hated the masks they were given to wear - the ball was apparently a Halloween formal affair. What did that even mean? He wasn't going to wear his mask if he could help it.
In spite of their loss, his teammates were in high spirits. Even Borodin was happy in his sling. They were already voraciously stuffing their faces, so Oliver meandered over to where the buffet table was set up and helped himself to the food.
"Sweet set-up, eh?" Davies said through a mouthful of food. "Fan-cyyy."
"Fancy as you, mate," Oliver replied, picking up some potatoes.
"Bah, don't be a killjoy. I'm determined to make this work. Here, have some Fiyah-whiskaaay!" Davies handed Oliver a little glass of Ogden's. "Here's lookin' up your kilt," he smirked, holding up his drink.
Oliver grimaced, clinking their glasses. "Aye, it's gruesome."
"Aye, it's grew some more!" Davies cackled as they knocked their alcohol back together.
Then Oliver nearly dropped his plate as a big gust of wind blew up behind his kilt. Awkward. Through the open balcony doors, a large group of women walked in, not a hair out of place. The Harpies had arrived.
"Laraaaa," someone called shortly after they landed. As Katie adjusted her dress, she craned over Gwen's shoulder to see who it was. Philbert Deverill, Puddlemere's nutty, flamboyant manager, exchanged air kisses with their own manager.
"Phil," replied Lara courteously, somberly, even, "It's been too long! How lovely to see you."
"Always a treat for the eyes, you and your girls are," he simpered, "Even after your... glorious victory over Puddlemere today. You must be pleased!"
"It was hard-won," Lara said, "Your boys played well indeed."
What had her in a mood? In the corner of her eye, Katie saw Oliver staring intently past the pair and at her. She pretended to be engrossed by the managers' conversation, feeling inexplicably shy behind her mask. She shuffled behind Gwenog Jones, and took another peek in his direction. He'd looked away, but Katie noted he looked clean and handsome (albeit a little tired) in his formal attire.
Was he wearing... a kilt? And Davies?
Her attempt at hiding had been thwarted, however, when none other than Sean Flanner (also in a kilt) showed up beside her and Bruna. Wordlessly, he nodded at her friend, and then again at the rest of the gobsmacked team. Bruna blushed furiously and grit out, "Not now, Sean."
But their drama was again cut short when program ushers came up to arrange them in two lines and forced them into their masks. Katie was terribly confused as she walked alongside Isadora Fairfax through a dark hallway. She looked back, but everyone's faces were hidden behind their own masks. Finally they were led out into a crowd of waiting guests, and someone announced, "Your heroes and heroines of the day, ladies and gentlemen! Puddlemere United and the Holyhead Harpies!"
Talk about cheesy. Both teams walked down a gilded marble staircase as the people in the ballroom applauded, and orchestral music played as they reached the bottom. Then as each person partnered up to dance, they took off their masks.
"Fuckin' weirdos," sneered Fairfax beside Katie.
In an odd display, Coach King pulled Coach Nolan's mask off and and forced him to dance with her. Vanna's husband approached, gave a little bow, pulled the ribbon of her mask off, and led her to dance. Some wizards did the same to Wilda and Glinda, and Gwenog stalked off to look for a drink. Bruna had disappeared...
Katie looked around her. Now what?
"Hey," someone came up behind her. She jumped.
"Captain!" She turned around around and took him in. His face, though concealed, Her eyes traveled downward to a certain tartan article of clothing. "You look... Well. Nice costume, but it's hardly Halloween-y."
"Lost a bet against Davies so I had to wear this," Oliver grinned and looked down at his attire. "But you look... y'know, also. Happy Halloween. What are you dressed as?"
"Thanks, I guess. Miss Raul says I'm dressed as the sea? What kind of bet?" She let him reach behind her to pull off her mask.
"About you," Oliver shrugged, "One I was very happy to lose."
"Oh, really. Did Flanner lose too?" She took Oliver's mask off and put it aside.
"We all lost one bet or another. But I was the only one counting on losing."
"You were right about this, mate!" hollered Davies, arms slung around two giggling witches. He thrust his hips forward. "Ladies dig the kilt!"
"Oh, Roger!" one of them simpered as they walked away.
"At least he's enjoying."
The two laughed awkwardly.
"Sorry," Oliver said, "But have you eaten?"
As if on cue, Katie's stomach growled. "Not since lunch," she winced.
Oliver turned to a passing waiter and smoothly took his entire tray of hors d'oeuvres. "Cocktails for dinner?"
Katie grinned back and reached for a fancy biscuit. "So how have the past two weeks been?"
"You know, twice-a-day scrimmage. Gym and strat sessions, where they tried to squeeze me and Davies for everything we had on you. Fat lot of good that did."
"Sorry, this one's a wrecker." She flexed her shooting arm.
"You are. I've never seen you could fly like that. I mean... it's been a while."
"Coach King," Katie nodded. "Sorry to say she's more of a hard-ass than you were."
In the background, Katie heard her shriek, "You're stepping on my dress, you dunderhead!" presumably at Coach Nolan.
"Seems like it. You played so great, in fact, that I've written a whole page on you in my playbook."
"Ooh. Should I be scared?"
"Very. You watch, Bell."
"Well, Coach had me practicing against this ugly phantom version of you. It wasn't such an inaccurate depiction, really - his nostrils grew big, like this," Katie demonstrated, "And he was furious whenever I scored against him."
Oliver pulled a face. "Wasn't so easy having to block you today, you know that?"
"Wasn't so easy scoring either, Captain."
They watched the people dance in silence, until Katie began, "Are wizarding galas always this stuf-"
"Do you wanna -"
Stares.
"Sorry, you go first."
"No, you go first."
Oliver took a breath. "Dance with me?"
"What is it that you had to put me on the spot in front of everyone earlier? Must you ruin my night so early?" Bruna asked Sean angrily. He'd pulled her away into a corner as soon as the evening had begun, to her supreme annoyance. "After the game I said I'd give you a chance to talk, not embarrass me."
"I promised this would be the last time, so please let me talk. Look, Bru. I've been thinking. A lot. Especially with Wood going off and wooing his own little Harpy..." he trailed off before looking at her again. "You know I'm sorry."
The Keeper folded her arms and rolled her eyes. He was so determined after cornering her post-match that she couldn't say no. And here he was repeating the same lies?
"What, because you miss having somone to toy with? 'Sorry' isn't gonna cut it when it comes to what you've hidden from me."
"It's a big thing, I know, but Beatrice... you've gotta understand, Bru. She's the biggest part of my life -"
"Don't," she started, "'Bru' me. See, that's why I don't get why I owe you any sort of time, Flanner. We've been through this!"
"We haven't! You keep walking away, and I'm tired of it. What are you so afraid to hear, anyway?"
Bruna faltered, "I... don't know. That you used me? That you wanted to keep using me while your wife -"
"Brunhilda Geyser, I swear if you say that one more time -"
"Never ever call me that! I'm not that kind of woman, Flanner, and I'm not going to be made a fool of by you -"
"If you'd just listen!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her silent. She allowed her eyes to close for a moment before shoving him off.
"You pig!" she cried.
"Bruna. Please. Beatrice... she isn't my wife, okay? I've been trying to tell you. She's..." he released a pent-up sigh, "She's my daughter."
"Ow," Katie laughed as Oliver stepped on her foot for the nth time. "You'd think the best Keeper in the League would be more graceful on his feet."
"It's not my natural element, okay? Don't judge."
"Me neither." She laughed as he attempted to spin her, only to bump into a disapproving matron nearby. "We suck at this."
"Yeah? Well. My mother said learning how to dance was never a hopeless cause."
"Until she saw you dance." Katie wondered that she'd never asked him about being Pureblood - he acted so differently from the other high society kids even if he had to do the same snooty things they did every year over the summer.
"Because she saw me dance. I did dismally at lessons." Oliver chuckled. "She felt I needed some encouragement."
"That's right, til you got your hands on a broom."
"My poor mum."
"What about mine? She nearly had a heart attack today."
"Excuse me," someone interrupted, "Mind if I cut in?"
Oliver had to stifle an indignant cry when he looked up to see Brevis Birch inspecting them with amusement. "As a matter of fact," he said in a clipped tone, "I do."
"Now, now, boy, we're at a party. The lady would not object to a more... graceful partner?" Birch turned to Katie, who was sporting a scowl identical to Oliver's. She wasn't about to back down.
"No, Captain, it's okay. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?" She shot him a meaningful look.
Oliver reluctantly let her go, glaring daggers at Birch. "I'll wait for you by the bar," he told Katie.
"Nice skirt," Birch called after him. When Oliver was far enough away, he turned to Katie and smiled. "I'm sorry, madam, after our first meeting it occurred to me that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."
"You think?"
He ignored her and held out his hand. Katie took it reluctantly, and he led her back into the dance. "You can call me Brevis."
"Sure. Katie. What are you dressed as?" She looked his silver robes up and down. "A shark?"
Birch tutted. "So much hostility in one so young. You're much prettier when you smile." He bared his pearly whites, but his expression, which Katie used to find quite handsome, only gave her goosebumps.
"I watched the match earlier, you know," he continued. "You were a standout."
"Er, thanks."
"I suppose you have your own coaching staff to thank, if not Wood's lackluster keeping, for your performance."
"Oliver Keeps more than just fine."
"He performed far below his own statistics last season."
"It was the first game of this season."
"Hey, hey. I'm not here to argue. I just wanted to compliment you on your playing."
Silence.
Birch continued, "It's only a shame you couldn't be playing with for a champion team like the 'Nados."
"I'm quite happy with my team," Katie countered. "There's nothing about my choice that I regret."
"Well, you're young, and the season has really just begun. We'll see. But I haven't given up on you just yet, Miss Bell. I have a good feeling that you'll soon be... persuaded that signing to the Tornados would be the best thing for your career."
Katie dropped his hands and stopped pretending to dance. "Mr. Birch, I have to thank you for your offer - if that's what it was. And not to sound rude, but I'm really not interested."
He only laughed and reached for two glasses of champagne from Merwyn Finwick, who, to Katie's surprise, was sleepily standing right next to them. Birch offered her a flute. "You see, Miss Bell, there's more to the game of Quidditch than what happens on the pitch. Every team has its own secrets... Mine, Wood's, yours... All I'm saying is, I have the key to success beyond your wildest imagination. All you need to do is ask. Cheers."
Touching his glass to hers, he sneered, smacked the snoozing Finwick sharply on the chest and walked away.
"Stare any harder, Wood, and you might burn a hole in his head."
Oliver stopped glaring at Birch for a moment and faced a sarcastic Gwenog Jones, who held two glasses of Firewhiskey in her hands. She offered Oliver the untouched one, which he gratefully accepted.
"Good game, Jones," he took a sip, "You nearly decapitated me on maybe four different occasions."
"Less than the average," she chuckled darkly as they quickly lapsed into an awkward silence.
"So, er."
"Birch is trying to pirate my rookie." Gwen went straight to the point, nodding in Katie's direction.
Oliver felt there was no point in denying it. "They tried recruiting her earlier, but she'd already signed with you. Good thing, too."
"I think she's a smart girl," Gwen said. "And if I'm right, she's not going to jump ship."
"She won't," Oliver nodded. "I hate piracy. It screws everyone over."
"Under-the-table deals - rarely do we have anything to do with them. It's our damn management. But that pillock Birch owns his own bloody team, so he thinks he can do whatever the hell he wants. Damn straight he'll get it from me if he tries to take my team."
"Get in line," Oliver attempted a joke. Gwenog shot him a withering look.
"So. You and the rookie, then."
Oliver's ears went pink as he shrugged. "We were teammates. Back at Hogwarts."
"I heard. Y'know, I didn't think it was possible," said Gwen, "But that girl is more stubborn than me. She's just insubordinate!"
"She'll do what she feels is right. But she named her owl after you, you know," Oliver said. "She adores you."
"And she infuriates me," Gwen laughed, which alarmed Oliver a little. "Between you and me, when she's not acting like my number one fan, she's either ignoring my orders, or trying to prove a point. Drives me mad, like Wilds, you know? She'd better thank Merlin that she's a damn good Chaser."
"Griffiths?" Oliver asked, distracted by the sight of Katie making her way towards them. Thank Merlin. "Uhhh. Haven't seen her, Jones. Sorry."
"Captain!" Katie called as she neared. Both Oliver and Gwenog looked up at her. "Oh, er. I meant, uh, Oliver. Sorry. Gwen."
The Beater shrugged coolly and continued nursing her glass.
"What did he want, Kates?" Oliver asked, reaching for her. "Are you alright?"
Katie nodded. "I took care of it. I'm just gonna use the loo, be right back."
"If Bell respects me as much as you say," pondered Jones, amused, "And if she really thinks me higher than her, then why is it that you're the one she calls 'Captain'?"
"I... You have a daughter." Bruna looked at the floor.
"She's going to turn five in December."
"That's a very big thing to keep from me, Sean."
"I wanted to tell you, but when you were ready. I'm sorry."
"Wouldn't it have been better to tell me straight up? I -"
"Look. A lot of things were holding me back. You were this gorgeous girl I wanted to get to know and I -"
"You hid this fundamental fact from me, and why? Because I was your plaything on the weekends while your mother babysat? Because I couldn't possibly want more from you? Or maybe it was the other way round." The shock was quickly turning back to anger.
"Couldn't it just have been that I did want to get to know you better? I want my child to have a mother... And I was hoping... maybe it would be you. I didn't want you to freak out and run. Which you did, of course, but I don't blame you. This is all my fault." Sean put a hand in the pocket of his kilt and rubbed the other nervously across his face. "I'm sorry. I tried to tell you -"
"Where is her mother?"
Sean shook his head. "It was a one night type of thing, Bru. I was young, and stupid, and wasted... There were quite a few of those nights, to be honest."
Bruna bristled at his admission, but allowed him to continue.
"One night I came home from practice and there was a little bundle on my doorstep. She - Beatrice was in the basket, just a few days old, and there was only a little note pinned onto her blanket. It had her birthdate, and it said, 'Beatrice - yours.' A paternity test confirmed as much."
"And you kept her?"
"Of course."
"But... why is she such a secret?"
"You know our PR - the way they harp on marketability is toxic. I want to tell the world my Beatrice exists, but I can't lest I 'damage my brand'." He finished with air quotes, disgust on his face.
"The same way we couldn't talk about... you know, this?" Bruna gestured between them, daring to look him in the eye.
"Almost, but not quite. There would have been problems on my end, and your end, too." He cracked her a weak smile. "Bru..."
"What do you want from me, Sean?"
"What do I want? I..."
"Shh! Rookie! Come here!" An arm grabbed Katie as she made her way towards the hall.
"Ow! Wilds? Are you drunk already?"
"Of course not. Don't go over there, I've been eavesdropping like fuckin' Rita Skeeter. Bru and Flanner!"
"Oooh. I thought you were above all that superficial rot," Katie teased. But she leaned over the pillar Wilda hid behind and saw none other than their Keeper, engrossed in deep conversation with the Puddlemere Captain.
"Quiet, you." Wilda snatched Katie's flute of champagne. "This is going to be juicy in the morning." She downed the contents of the glass and gimaced. "Ugh, this stuff is stronger than usual, huh?"
"Interesting. Alright, remind me to ambush Bru tomorrow. I just really need to use the loo."
Katie found a roundabout way to her destination and hurried inside. It was only when she'd exited her cubicle to wash her hands that she noticed she had company. "Alicia?"
"Hey Katie, I saw you rush in so I didn't -" Alicia was cut off when Katie gave her a big hug.
"You didn't watch my game."
"I did. But I was in the media box. Same reason I'm here, actually. Work." She apologetically waved her quill and paper.
"That's so great!" Katie pulled back and took her in. Alicia wore a pretty, champagne-colored gown, but she looked rather tired. "Well, not that you're working at a party. That's amazing though!"
"It's a pretty big deal. I've already sent my write-up on your game to the Prophet."
"So this freelance thing is bigger than you let on, huh?" Katie teased.
"Maybe. Hey, Kates, you haven't seen Brevis Birch anywhere, have you?"
Katie's face darkened. "Why? He's bad news."
"It's just... something. I'm actually working here, y'know?" Alicia gave a laugh. "Can't really talk much, and I know I can get your scoop anytime."
"But I just saw you! And we're at a ball!"
"Katie."
"Fine. I'll tell you if you agree to lunch next week. And no running out!"
Alicia sighed. "Okay, I promise. Sneaky of you to try to sit me with, you know. Them."
Katie shrugged. "I just thought -"
"It's alright. Look, I'll write, okay?"
"Okay. Birch is around the dance floor. Please don't talk to him!"
The girls exchanged hugs. "Thanks. I'll see you soon, Katie."
"That better be a promise."
"Olliiiiiiiieeeee.. Didn't think I'd run into you here."
Oliver looked to the heavens, begging for the patience he knew he'd need. "Amber," he greeted as a red lacquered fingernail traced his ear. "It is a Quidditch event."
"Oh," she tittered, "I get so invited to so many galas these days. I don't even know which one I'm attending anymore! It's so difficult."
Oliver sighed. "I can imagine." The busty blonde rolled her body around his until they were chest to chest. "Amber, please."
"I've missed you, Ollieee," she picked on the buttons on his shirt and fluttered her false eyelashes up at him. "If only your little publicity people didn't ask us to break up."
He examined her crimson pout with ill-disguised distaste as he tried to edge away. "Amber. We were never going to work out."
The socialite giggled, causing her flashy, electric blue gown to break out into sparkles. "Don't you love this dress?" she ignored him completely. "It suits your... skirt."
"It's a kilt."
"Whatever. Ollie, you've always had a stupid broom up your -"
"Hey Ol!" Katie walked up next to him. Oliver worriedly examined her face as she took in the scene. With Amber snuggled up close to him, it looked bad. Real bad.
"And who's this?" Amber raised a blonde eyebrow, appraising Katie from head to toe.
"Amber, this is Katie," Oliver said. "She's my -"
"I'm his date," Katie supplied with a smile. "C'mon Ol, you owe me a drink." She tugged him out of the affronted socialite's grasp and led him away.
"Thanks," Oliver said once they were in the clear. They were alone on a long balcony, outside the huge double doors of the ballroom. He looked down at their hands, which had nearly become interlaced over the course of their walk. Katie followed his gaze and pulled her fingers away, to his disappointment. "Amber... She can be a little... That is to say she's..."
"Forget it, Ol," Katie laughed. "I don't think I wanna know. In any case, she looks busy."
They looked back to where Oliver had been before - Roger Davies had somehow trapped his ex-girlfriend in a flirtatious armhold. Amber didn't look so happy.
Katie considered telling Oliver that she had felt some jealousy flare up when she'd seen him with Amber, but thought better of it. She knew from his face that he wasn't enjoying the company. Then she considered asking him how they broke up, but she scrapped the idea of ex-talk altogether. It's not like she had the right or anything, she justified in her head.
"I guess." Oliver finally let out a breath. "I hate balls."
"Any balls that aren't for Quidditch, eh? Well, let me distract you." Katie told him everything that had gone down - the Birch encounter, the Flanner thing, then about her seeing Alicia.
"Save for Alicia it seems we keep getting stuck with unsavory folk," Oliver said, putting his hands in his pockets. They'd gotten Katie a fresh drink and had walked out onto the foyer.
"Are all fancy parties this way?" she asked.
"Hmm?" he watched, mesmerized, as her dress, blue like Amber's, but simple and elegant, fluttered in the breeze. And then his eyes widened as the cold wind blew up his kilt. "I'll never get used to this," he confessed as she laughed at his discomfort.
"It suits you, though." She reached up and straightened his tie. "I think you look dashing."
"You're the first after my mum to say that."
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. Katie looked over at him - had he really been standing so close? The breeze was blowing his scent in her direction - it was intoxicating. It smelled like soap, it smelled so... him.
"Kates... Why do you call me 'Captain'?" he interrupted her thoughts.
"I do? Oh, yeah," she blinked.
"Jones pointed it out. Never really noticed it."
Katie cocked her head. "Me neither, actually."
"What... do you mean by it?" He looked at her as they leaned over the balcony railing. Was he nervous? Katie wasn't sure.
"I mean... Captain. You're my captain, right? I've called you that for years."
"But, see, I'm not - we're not teammates anymore. George and Ange just call me Oliver."
"Does it bother you?"
He shrugged. "Jones just pointed out that 'Captain' is a very hierarchical term."
"Is that what this is about." Katie broke into a grin. "She's jealous because I don't call her that."
"And shouldn't you?"
Katie shrugged. "It feels forced. Calling you 'Captain' doesn't. Call it... a term of endearment. It's not the same, but it's kind of like how you're the only one that really calls me 'Kates'. Davies tried. It was utterly annoying."
"Kates." Oliver grinned.
"Yeah?"
"Kates."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" she poked him in the ribs, eliciting a startled laugh.
"Hey!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her in easily for a hug. When they settled, she snaked her arms into his coat and round his back, and murmured, "I missed you." And she did. The past couple of weeks had been ridiculously tough. And without Oliver to confide in, it had been doubly trying.
Oliver opened his mouth as if to say something, changed his mind, and pulled her closer. She welcomed his warmth, burrowing her face into his chest. "I missed you too, Kates," he confessed.
Their faces were so close they could feel each other's breaths.
"So, Ol," Katie joked to ease the tension, "What else happens at these balls besides the snooty dancing and the fancy drinks?"
"Well they've turned the lights down - I hear Celestina Warbeck's performing. And the Warehouse Wolves."
"I could stand to miss it."
"But you love Celestina Warbeck. We could meet her."
Katie pretended to think. "But I'm still quite hungry, you see."
He raised a brow back at her. "I suppose we could grab a bite."
They broke apart, however, when a hysterical Wilda barged out onto the balcony, followed by a furious Gwenog. Neither Harpy seemed to notice Katie and Oliver.
"What was that about?" Gwen yelled.
"Just get off my back!"
"Seriously? Seriously, Wilds? Brevis fucking Birch." Gwen reached out to grab her arm.
"Oh, what. He's hot and I've had something to drink! Don't touch me -"
"You were sharing the bastard with Isadora Fairfax, too, in case you didn't notice. You're acting like a fucking slag."
Oliver gasped. "I need to find Fairfax," he whispered to Katie. "I won't leave her with Birch."
Katie nodded and felt him leave, but stood glued, horrified, to the spot. How much did Wilda have to drink? She seemed perfectly fine earlier!
"We were just having some fun!" screamed Wilda, tottering, "You don't fucking own me, Jones! How many times do I have to tell you -"
"Well I'm fucking sorry if I'm looking out for your safety? Your reputation?"
"Damn my reputation," spat Wilda, "If I'm ever seen with the likes you you. This is all for your ego, you stupid cow."
The Chaser marched off in the opposite direction and fumbled for her wand.
"Don't act like that! It's more than that and you know it is! Wilda! Wilda!"
But Wilda had found her wand and drunkenly Apparated away. Gwenog reached out but caught only air. Roaring, the Beater took out her own wand and likewise disappeared.
"Circe." Katie stared at where her teammates stood seconds ago. She knew Gwenog was strongly against interaction with other men, but what was that about? And why did the name Brevis Birch keep following her tonight? She shivered and realized she was alone in the cold.
As she turned to go back inside, she saw Oliver marching back to her. "Dora's gone," he frowned. "They told me she left... with Birch."
"Oh," Katie blinked. "What now?"
"It's none of my business," Oliver said. "But I just want her to be safe."
"She's a big girl, I'm sure she'll be fine," Katie tried to reassure him. But after witnessing that blowup, she didn't believe herself.
Oliver shook his head, and Katie saw just how tired he really looked. She felt it, too - after the game, and dealing with everyone she'd encountered that evening, she needed a break.
"Ol?" she asked. "You're exhausted. There's nothing we can do here. Maybe we should go. But not to my place - there's gonna be a war going on there for sure."
The Keeper searched her face before finally nodding. "You're right."
Without questioning him, she let him take her hand and Apparate them away.
He didn't let go when they landed, but instead gently led her through the Puddlemere lobby and up into his flat. It was as comforting as Katie remembered, and when Oliver magically started a blaze in his fireplace, she automatically relaxed.
But she stood there rather awkwardly as he went around straightening things before finally disappearing into his room. Before she could call out, he returned bearing a bundle of his clothes and a towel.
"Here," he offered them to her sheepishly. "You can't get comfy in that dress, nice as it is. You can use my bathroom."
She took them gratefully and proceeded to clean up, washing her face and tying up her hair. She put his clothes on - he'd given her a pair of boxers and one of his old, brown Puddlemere shirts. It stopped high on her thighs, but she couldn't help but think it fit perfectly. She stuck her nose in the fabric.
"You alright, Kates? Need anything?" Oliver called.
"Um," she blushed. "A toothbrush?"
He was happy to provide her one, and she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later feeling fresh, but shy.
She noticed Oliver had already changed. Katie thought he looked even better in his white V-neck tee and flannel pants. He looked over at her from his couch and cocked his head. "C'mere."
Katie suppressed a grin and half-ran to cuddle under his outstretched arm. He offered her a bowl of cereal and milk, "Sorry, Kates. This is the best I had on such short notice."
"Cereal dinner. How dull," she laughed, thanking him.
"Like today, hmm?" Oliver mused. "Dull, I mean."
"So dull," Katie replied. "I mean... I only won my first game."
"Birch only caused a huge mess at the gala."
"Bruna only had a possibly life-changing talk with Sean Flanner -"
"WHAT."
"Oh yeah," Katie frowned into her bowl. "How did I forget about that?"
"So he's done it. He's told her about Beatrice."
"Oh, please. Bru's not stupid, she knows he's married."
"Married?" Oliver was incredulous. "Kates... Beatrice is his daughter."
She nearly spat out her cereal. "NO."
"Is that what Geyser thought? That explains a lot."
"This changes things."
"No doubt it will."
Oliver let Katie rant about the situation, laughing at her comical expressions as she splish-splashed her cereal and yelled about the irony.
"And then imagine," Katie ended, "If she finally decides just to go out with him again!" She released a sigh.
"Well," Oliver reasoned, his heart suddenly hammering, "They've known each other for some time."
"Yeah?"
"And now Flanner's come clean about what he's been dying for her to know."
"Beatrice?"
"Mmhmm, but more than that."
"You mean that he loves her?"
"He has, for a while."
Katie nodded, but stayed silent. Their friends' situation was far too similar to hers for her to say anything. At least, without fear of discovery. Suddenly she was hyperaware of their proximity. The air felt turbid with tension. "Ol," she finally began, her voice not over a whisper. "Is this a good idea?"
"Hmm?" he didn't hear her. His fingers lazily stroked her calves, which were perched haphazardly on his legs. His eyes focused on her lips, and maybe it was the drinks he'd had, but he was feeling bold. He leaned in til his face was mere inches from hers. "You should always wear my clothes."
"I..." Oh, hell. She wanted this. But... "Well!" she cried, breaking the mood. Oliver pulled away, not understanding. The moment when comprehension swept over his handsome features was the same one that crushed Katie.
"Sorry," he said, getting up quickly. "Must have had, uh, too much to drink. I'd better. Er."
"No, wait!" Katie nearly shouted, mentally smacking herself over the head. "That's not what I meant. Stay. Please."
Embarrassment and uncertainty was etched all over Oliver's face as he searched her face. Finally he shook his head. "We both could use some rest. Here, take my bed." He pulled her up and led him to his room. Upon making sure she was tucked in and comfy, he said, "Good night, Kates."
Katie didn't dare question him. He was being a gentleman, as he always was. She'd fix it in the morning. "Good night, Captain," she sighed as he turned out the lights and walked away.
What had she done?
A/N: Uh ohhhh! Sorry to cockblock! Can't explain myself very well there, but I can just say I've had a ton of fun writing this chapter. Hands up, who guessed Beatrice right?
Extra nugget: the Amber I picture in my head is Kate Upton. She wasn't really necessary, but I threw her in anyway. Just for fun.
Review if you liked this chapter!
Review if you hated it! (But please be nice?)
Review if you think Puddlemere in kilts is sexy!
Review if you wanna know what the hell happened with Bruna and Sean!
Review if you think Katie did the wrong, wrong thing!
Review if you wanna know what comes next!
As always, thanks for reading :) Love you guys!