A/N: In advance I'd like to say sorry, or you're welcome. I really don't know how you are all going to react to what may mean a change in rating. I just hope you love it. Caution: HOT!
Chapter 19 - Some Progress on Every Front
"There you areeeee! Come here, young man!"
Oliver shut his eyes and willed himself to vanish. It seemed that Priscilla the PR Pogrebin had finally caught up with him. And he was having such a good day, too: he'd gone for his run, done his time at the gym, written up some plays with Coach Nolan, and he was just headed home to write about more plays. Or perhaps Katie. He'd been feeling ridiculously energetic. But now...
"Priscilla," he turned around to greet the chubby publicist.
"My darling, darling Oliver!" It was only a matter of time, really. He pursed his lips as she fussed over him.
"What have I done this time?" he asked tiredly, although he knew perfectly well what she was going to say next.
"What have you done? Why, utter perfection!" Priscilla fawned, positively delighted. Her fat paunch gave a little jiggle. "You didn't tell me you were finally seeing that girl!"
He clenched his jaw, and gave her a pained look. Few people could truly test his patience, and Priscilla could do it in record time.
"Well?" She pried, "It's all over the papers! This is a dream come true for me - I mean us! We can make a story out of this, love, and it need not be staged!"
"I haven't seen. I believe I've told you before that I didn't - I don't want -"
"Oh, pish-posh. I'm your publicist, darling. I need to know these things! It's my job!"
"I'm sorry, Priscilla. By all means promote the team. But I've drawn the line. Katie is off-limits."
"I really must remind you that you are a public figure, yes? Your face is on protein bars, dear. People are morbidly curious about your life."
"Yes, thanks to you." He hadn't wanted to be on a protein bar.
"Thanks to me. Yes. My point here is, well, you had better be grateful for this celebrity status I've helped you attain. Other players would kill to not a private life!"
"What?" Oliver was incredulous now. "I just want to play Quidditch. Why don't you ask Davies who he's seeing? Or Phil and Neil!" He wasn't too careless to drop Flanner's name, however. He and Sean were in the same boat.
"Unbelievable! The sooner you get it in that skull of yours that Quidditch isn't actually about Quidditch, then the sooner -"
"Alright, alright. Priscilla? I'm really not going to argue with you about this." He'd meant it as a final 'no', but judging from her sudden change in demeanor, the publicist clearly interpreted it wrong.
"I knew you had some sense! Well, then. I'd better get started!" She reached up to pat him on the chest and waddled happily away.
"No, Priscilla, wait!" But she'd already turned a deaf ear.
Oliver then stalked home, resisting the urge to punch something. It wasn't worth it.
In the lobby, he came across Isadora, who thankfully had not a trace of black goo left around her eyes. "Alright there, Fairfax?" he asked as they stepped into the lift.
The Chaser stared at the buttons, as if unsure what to do.
"Oh. Lemme get that for you," he said, as he pushed both the buttons for the 14th and 15th floor.
She sighed, then, which led Oliver to ask, "Is... everything alright?"
"Shove off, Wood," Fairfax grumbled, leaving him to ponder in silence what had her in such a mood.
Not that this was anything new - Fairfax certainly had her mood swings. Extreme ones, too. She usually lashed out, but rarely did she reveal why. He didn't actually know that much about her, so he couldn't diagnose anything, but sometimes he guessed it was because she had a difficult childhood.
One night, he remembered, she'd had way too much to drink. She'd banged on his door until he let her in. First she tried to disrobe him, but when that didn't work, she slumped on the floor and moaned about how her father, a Death Eater supporter, was planning to auction her off to the highest pureblood bidder.
"I'd rather suck Salazar's snake than touch any of those thugs," she'd blubbered, and then proceeded to attempt climbing onto Oliver's lap, mumbling things about torture and chains being "so not her thing", but "I can make an exception just this once." He didn't get to carry her back to her flat on time, however: she'd violently puked a night's worth of food and alcohol onto his sleeping clothes. But he cleaned her up anyway, and tucked her in. The next day she went about being her normal snarky self, albeit massively hungover. No apology was issued, but Oliver was more than thankful for that. He was embarrassed enough over having to clean her up, and he didn't need her to acknowledge it and embarrass them both further.
With most other girls he'd have chalked it up to - what was it? SPM? PSM? Oliver didn't have a clue. But his minute knowledge of Fairfax's life alone was enough to deter him from doing anything to provoke her.
The doors pinged open at the 14th floor, and he gratefully stepped out and away from the surly woman. He cared for his teammate, sure, but sometimes she made it difficult to be a friend. It was much better when she channeled her anger through Quidditch. He shook his head. That was two speed bumps in what had been a really great day. Time to get back on track. He had plays to rewrite.
Except he couldn't, really. He'd changed into his flannel pants and sat down at his desk, wracking his brain for new maneuvers for his teammates. But they didn't come to him as easily. In fact, they were probably ridiculous. Because hard as he tried, another player kept popping into his mind. A particularly pretty one - tall, with long, brown hair. And a mean shooting arm. But she wasn't doing any drills on a broom. Gads, she wasn't even in her uniform! Most unusual. Instead, he found himself checking the next page of his journal for a message, and eagerly thinking of ways to... Oliver blushed at the thought. "Gah!"
This would not do. He looked at the clock - he'd wasted two hours, and forgotten all about lunch. He got up, impulsively tossed some Floo powder into his fireplace and yelled, "Sean Flanner's flat!"
The green flame blazed, and he stuck his head into the furnace. "Flanner? Flanner! Oi!"
"Coming, coming, no need to shout," his teammate called from elsewhere. Flanner walked into his living room, bent down and guiding a little blonde toddler with him. "Come now, Bea, say hi to Uncle Oliver."
"Hello Uncle Oliver," she said shyly, before hiding behind her father's legs.
"Someone's got a little crush on you," Sean teased, picking her up with a grunt. When Oliver didn't reply, he continued, "Did you just Floo me to stare at my fantastic physique, or did you actually have something to tell me?"
Oliver shook his head. "Sorry. Yeah, mate. I was just making plays," he grimaced. "Mind if I, er, come over?"
"Oh, no, you don't," warned Flanner. "We're off Quidditch for a few good days, and I want to enjoy some time with me girl."
"It's... not about Quidditch."
"It's not?"
"No."
"Since when does Oliver Wood -"
"Oh, bugger this. It's about Katie. I'm... distracted."
Now this was more Sean liked it. "Is that so?" he asked, gleeful as a gossipy girl. "Can't Floo out, can you? Well Apparate on over! The wards will let you in. Don't splinch yourself, now!"
Oliver rolled his eyes and pulled his head out of the fire. Grabbing his wand, he took a steadying breath, and with a POP! he was gone.
"Whoa," he said, tottering over as he landed in Flanner's flat.
"Wow," marveled Flanner. "You weren't kidding. How distracted were you that you'd forget, oh, I don't know, to put a shirt on?" He covered his daughter's eyes.
"Uncle Oliver is naked," she giggled.
Oliver blushed. "Sorry, mate."
"Who taught you that word, young lady?" Flanner set her down on the couch and disappeared into his bedroom. He returned, tossing a shirt at the grateful Keeper. "Sit!" he commanded, "While I get us libations!"
Beatrice wormed her way onto Oliver's lap and sat there happily, and he absently brushed through her waves with one hand as she stared up at him in abject adoration.
He'd snogged a few girls before, yes. Responsibly, of course. And it was nice... "But not as nice as snogging Katie."
He'd liked some of them enough, sure. Mild interest counted, right? He winced in memory of the ten minutes he'd thought Amber had been, well, rather attractive. Until she opened her mouth to speak. "Katie's voice would never irritate me. Nor would she be so vapid."
The point was, he hadn't liked any girl enough to earnestly pursue any one of them further. And certainly not to the point where he was driven to distraction from Quidditch. Quidditch! He'd taken that leap with Katie knowing that he wanted her. But he hadn't anticipated... this. A strange emotion bore into him dully. He suspected it was panic.
"You look ill. Have a sip of this before you faint," teased Flanner, handing Oliver a glass of orange juice. Only it was spiked with quite a hefty dose of -
"Goblin gin?" Oliver protested, his face puckering. "It's hardly the afternoon!"
Handing Beatrice a cup of hopefully unspiked OJ, Flanner shrugged. "Takes the edge off. Now sit on daddy's lap and tell me what's wrong."
Hesitantly, Oliver mumbled, "I can't concentrate. I can't get Katie out of my mind."
"What's that now?"
"I can't think straight, mate. Every time I try to write down a play, I think of..."
"...Ah," nodded Flanner. "Your lady love." Oliver felt his ears heat up.
"Who!" cried Beatrice.
"Hush, baby, let him talk."
"Her name's Katie," Oliver finally answered the child.
"Is she pretty?"
Great, Oliver thought. A toddler can make me blush. "Yes, very." He glared at a smirking Flanner and continued patiently. "She has long, pretty hair, like you. And brown eyes. She plays Quidditch, like me and your dad."
"Wow," Beatrice sighed. "Are you in love?" At which point Oliver spluttered.
Cackling, Sean took his daughter from the indignant Keeper and placed her on his lap. "Now, now, Beatrice. What's got you so worked up, Wood? I saw the papers. And I know you're never gonna tell, but I feel like something's happened."
The Keeper only nodded.
"A good thing with Miss Katie, I presume?"
Another nod. A small grin.
"There's that Witch Weekly smile. So what's the problem? I mean, you went all the way?"
"No, mate!" Oliver huffed in frustration. "You don't just ask a bloke these things. It's weird!"
"Where'd you go?" Beatrice asked him innocently. Oliver shot her father a look.
"Nowhere far, it seems, baby," smirked Flanner. "Wood, I know just your problem. It's not a problem, really. You're just late to the glorious party that Muggles call hormones." He swept a hand across the air.
"What?"
"Hormones. Some potion sky-ence in your body that makes you, a red-blooded male, all worked up over your attraction to a fit bird like Miss Bell. Heck, you could do a lot worse. Congratulations, mate!"
Oliver took a sip of his gin-spiked juice. "I don't understand. This has never happened to me before. How do I make it stop?"
"Make it stop? You can't! You're just kicked into high gear now because all this time, when other strapping young guns go off following their... Beater's bats," Flanner winked conspiratorially over his daughter's head, "You've been obsessed with Quidditch. And now that you have a new obsession of the normal kind, you don't know what to do with this sudden explosion of... feeling. If you know what I mean."
"I know what you mean," piped up Beatrice matter-of-factly. "Uncle Oliver loves her so much he could cry."
"Exactly, Bea. See, Wood? It's simple. It's perfectly natural. And you're just a late bloomer. So when you get urges to shoot your Quaffle through Miss Bell's center hoop... Little Wood would reeeeally appreciate it. I'm sure you don't need me to elaborate?"
"I will treat Katie with the respect she's due!" Oliver cried indignantly. "She's not some... village broomstick!"
"Wood. Please contain yourself. I will not have my Beatrice picking up lewd ideas from you," Flanner joked as he fussed over the hem of Beatrice's frock. He pushed her legs together. "Now, don't you ever let a bloke in through there, my darling! Or I will kill him!"
"Flanner. She's three."
"Four, actually."
Oliver rolled his eyes.
"For what it's worth, mate, it's obvious you're crazy for her. Now I know you're not just plain crazy. Or asexual... I'm kidding!" Sean laughed as Oliver glared daggers at him. "Don't panic. Just... Get to know her. And your nether self," he smirked.
"Are you going to marry her?" Beatrice clutched Oliver's arm excitedly. "Will she be your mommy?"
"She means wife. She thinks they're the same thing," supplied Flanner wistfully.
"Er," Oliver replied, going pink again. It was a bit early for that.
"I want a mommy," she said off-handedly.
"Okay, that's enough, Beatrice Flanner!" Flanner swept the giggling child in his arms and tickled her til she forgot what she'd said. "Nap time!"
Oliver was deep in thought by the time Flanner returned. "Your kid is scarily perceptive."
"Hard to believe she's mine, eh?" More seriously, the Chaser said, "Hormones... aren't always a good thing. Beatrice is the best thing that's ever happened to me, you know that. But I wasn't ready for it. And now she doesn't have a mother."
"What about Geyser? I heard. From Katie, that is."
"We'll see, mate. If she falls in love with my Beatrice just as hard as I've fallen for her, then consider me a marked man."
"Good luck, then." Oliver got up, mentally postponing his plans to write plays. Those were obviously going to be fruitless until he sorted things out. Right now he needed a cold shower and a nap. He'd try again later.
"Thanks." Flanner shook his hand. "You, too. I'm a father, but since it's not my daughter we're talking about, here's my secret advice: Embrace your sexual prime! Responsibly!"
Katie had spent the day at her parents' place. She hadn't had the chance to talk to them properly when she'd seen them at the game, so she took the next free day to have lunch with her mom. For once, Gladys Bell's wheedling about Oliver elicited a reaction less or other than protest. Of course her mother had noticed.
"Sooooooooooo," she'd asked as they cooked their meal. "How are things with Oliver?"
"Oliv- er, they're fine, Mum," Katie said, not looking away from the chicken she was chopping.
"Fine?"
"Yeah, like... We're good." Katie looked up at her, a light blush tinting her cheeks. That was all it took. Gladys Bell dropped her spoon. "Oh, my darling, I'm so happy!"
She ran over to Katie and gave her disgruntled daughter a hug. "Just think," she gushed, "You and Oliver can have such beautiful children together -"
"Muuuum!"
"What's going on here?" Ed Bell walked into the kitchen, putting his briefcase on the table. "Something smells good."
"You, Edward, are about to gain yourself a son-in-law."
"No, Pop."
"Who's the bloke I've got to torture first, eh?" Mr. Bell said, a twinkle in his eye.
"Don't you dare touch a hair on my - that is, Katie's Oliver's head."
"Oh, boy. So he's up and done it. I'm going to lose you forever."
Katie marveled at her parents. She hadn't said a thing! "Never mind that," she said emphatically. "Ask me, I dunno, a couple of weeks from now."
"Noted, baby girl," Ed planted a soft kiss on her head. "Now feed the man of the house."
"So? What's the news around here?" Katie asked.
"Well, darling," said her father, "Hasn't your mother told you? You're going to be a big sister."
"WHAT!" Katie dropped her knife.
"Careful, Katherine!"
"HAH! Look at your face. Priceless," guffawed Mr. Bell.
"Pop, that's not something you just spring on someone!"
"Don't fret, my love, your father and I haven't even had the time! He's been very busy, haven't you, Ed?"
"Yes, my lady, Wand Control is a most unforgiving occupation. It's a small miracle I'm even home today. Now if we can get this one," he eyeballed Katie, "Out of the house posthaste..."
"You're incorrigible!"
"It's why you love me. That, or my own 'wand control'." He waggled his brows at his blushing wife, who came over and pretended to smother him with her apron.
"Oh, gross, Pop!" Katie laughed with them, for the first time wondering if she'd found the same sort of thing with Oliver.
Meanwhile, Oliver struggled anew before his playbook. It was no use. He needed another shower. An ice-cold one.
"Leesh!" Katie nearly screamed later that evening as she got up to hug her best friend. Out of excitement, she'd gotten to the Leaky Cauldron about fifteen minutes early, and had taken the liberty of ordering them food and Butterbeer while waiting.
"Hi!" Alicia seemed to be in a good mood that night as well. She gave Katie a one-armed hug, and rested a load of paper on a spare seat before sitting. "Nice dress! You look like you're going on a date."
"Oh!" Katie looked down at the white number she was wearing. "Bruna lent it to me - all my stuff's in the wash."
"Speaking of dates... Soooo?" Alicia asked.
Katie just beamed at her. "I'm so glad to see you."
"I think I can guess why." Alicia pulled out a couple of day-old publications and waggled them in front of Katie's face.
"The Prophet?" Katie read. "I haven't seen this!"
THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES TRIUMPH OVER PUDDLEMERE UNITED IN HEARTSTOPPING QUIDDITCH OPENER. By Alicia Spinnet.
"This is great, Leesh!" she cried. "Congratulations, you, front page!"
"Oh," Alicia waved her off. "The article was just a lucky break in the first place. And there probably wasn't any real news going on. The real story's at the bottom, look!"
"Ministry probes Death Eater surge south of Glasgow?"
"No, silly." She pointed at a headline in the corner.
DRAMA AT THE QUIDDITCH GALA! Full Story on A-23!
"What's this about? Did you get that scoop?"
"No. Well, yes. But one of my colleagues at The Prophet dug up a little dirt. I thought you might wanna explain to me, hmm?" Alicia turned the page as a waiter delivered their drinks and an array of dishes.
"Did you invite your whole team? This is way too much food!" laughed Alicia as Katie scanned the article.
All eyes were on our Quidditch stars after Holyhead's victory over Puddlemere United last night...
...Star-studded gala with no less than Ms. Celestina Warbeck, and up-and-comers, the Warehouse Wolves to entertain the A-list crowd, which included the likes of top-seeded Danish broom racer Philip Alexander, Norwegian artist Tonje Olsen...
...In particular on reclusive playboy Oliver Wood, pictured here with former flame, Amber Guest, and then with rumored new squeeze Katie Bell of the Holyhead Harpies. The ladies reportedly had a tiff at the bar..."
"What!" Katie laughed, "Can't they see how uncomfortable he looks! 'Playboy' indeed. Why are you making me read this society page!" she pointed at the photograph, which featured Katie rescuing him from the bodacious socialite.
"Keep going!"
A jilted Isadora Fairfax later spotted canoodling with Tutshill Tornados' owner and Chaser Brevis Birch, seemingly in competition for his attention with the Harpies' Wilda Griffiths...
...No question that our Quidditch stars need some extra activities to keep them in top shape...
"Leesh," Katie marveled, "This is rubbish! I mean, parts of it are true, but -"
Alicia just eyed her carefully.
"Ugh! Fine."
Meanwhile, a heated discussion amongst team managers Philbert Deverill and Lara Svityensky of the respective teams (pictured, left) seemed to be ongoing on the outskirts of the dance floor...
...Relations have reportedly been strained as of late, particularly with a high-stakes multi-player trade that did not push through among at least five Quidditch franchises, Holyhead and Puddlemere included...
"I don't know anything about this," Katie frowned, pointing at the passage. "How true is any of this?"
"I thought you'd know," Alicia looked at her keenly.
Katie cast her a doubtful look, and got back to the article.
...And all this before the regular season. There has been tremendous effort on the League Commission's part to iron things down behind-the-scenes, but drama seemed to take care of itself for the evening.
Ironically, the highlight of the evening had to do with ending the party - a shouting match of epic proportions between Gwenog Jones and Wilda Griffiths of the Harpies. Meanwhile, a source reports Oliver Wood conspicuously left with one Katie Bell. A storm could be brewing. Stay tuned!
"Well?" Alicia grinned, but Katie felt no such cheer. "I actually just wanted you to get to the last line."
"Wow. This looks like a disaster. I'm gonna need a minute to absorb this." Her mind was on the trade, which prior to reading this article she'd never even heard of. Why hadn't Lara told them anything? Katie ran through her personal performance quickly in her mind.
"What do you mean?" her friend's smile faltered. "Did you have a bad time with Oliver?"
Oh. That. "No, no! Far from it. But..."
"But what! Katie, if you don't know anything, I'm sure you can find out. And then maybe tell me afterwards. Right now I want to hear all the juicy details! Don't hold back on me!"
Katie forced herself to forget the rest and shared her fiasco-turned-right from the day previous.
After what ended up being a blissful afternoob of snogging (Katie blushed as she admitted this in watered-down phrasing to her delighted friend), Oliver had stayed for dinner, and then they'd gone out to play some Quidditch Horse on the silent pitch. It had been an even draw. She lent him her old broom, too, and together they flew over the lake and found a little spot to watch some stars.
Not that they did much stargazing, however. Katie blushed at the recollection. She ran her finger over the spot behind her ear, which she and Oliver had together discovered to be ticklish. She smiled to herself, recollecting how her hand fit in his, how her head reached the crook of his neck just so... And how his lips felt on hers.
"Earth to Katie," chuckled Alicia, taking a bite out of her chip.
"What? Sorry!" Katie blushed to the roots of her hair.
"So... he stayed the night?"
"No!" Katie nearly screamed. "Not like that, I mean."
"Merlin's pants!" Alicia was in fits. "But really... What did I tell you? It was about damn time."
Katie nodded. "He said it was getting ridiculous. And it was, Leesh."
"Kate, it's been weird between you two since forever. In a good way. Looks like he finally grew a pair."
"Hey!"
"So is he a good kisser?"
"Leeeeeesh," Katie whined softly, twirling her pasta round her fork distractedly.
"What? He must be, I mean look at your face."
Katie tried to bite back a smile. "Okay, fine. Yes, he's a good kisser. I mean, before, we didn't really..."
"Snog? Oh, you know Oliver. He was leaving school. He's not that kind of guy."
"Yeah, it would have been weird. But now... Oh gods, how rude of me!" Katie suddenly exclaimed. "I hadn't even asked how you've been!"
"Oh, you know, I've been okay," Alicia giggled nervously. It was always a sensitive topic, Katie knew. But Alicia continued, "I actually got to interview lots of Quidditch players the other night. Some of their responses are in my article... Just saving the rest for maybe a supplement."
"Sounds exciting! I didn't really get to meet very many people - I guess you know now I was pretty caught up."
"And I'm glad you were," Alicia smirked. "Then again, you missed out on all these hot men! And imagine - I had the perfect excuse to talk to them! You know Kai Gustaffsson?"
Katie shook her head.
"Rookie Chaser. Appleby Arrows. Australian import. Half German. Nice tan, nicer biceps... Sandy hair and eyes of deep, deep blue..." Alicia spaced out dreamily. "And his accent! Unf."
"Oh!" Katie jogged her memory. "I think we played a friendly against him. He's cute."
"I knoooow!" giggled Alicia. "Fine, I guess I can share. He mentioned that trade, you know. Apparently your team had to put up with everybody making offers. Big offers, too. The Arrows put in a bid, but then bowed out and signed Kai instead. It was looking like... maybe four players or five from different existing rosters? You know there wasn't a regular draft this year."
Katie's ears pricked up. "Offers for whom?"
"Er. Wilda Griffiths? Or you? Or maybe even Annie Grant. It was a Chaser deal sometime in early October, that's all I know."
"Who wanted us?"
Alicia scoffed. "I think the question is, who didn't? I'd imagine your manager's been quite busy fending off other offers."
"But why?"
"I'm starting to realize... Quidditch is above all else a business," Alicia shrugged. "I love it, of course, but it seems players are just mercenaries, hired by the highest bidder. Godric, this pasta just hits the spot. Good call."
That was an awfully jaded thing to say. Not about the pasta - which was good, Katie agreed - but about the business. What of team unity? Love for the game? Working together for a ring? Katie asked her as much.
"I'm sure that exists, Katie," said Alicia. "All I'm saying is, if you're a team owner, and you've got an awful lot of money, and you're coming into a... a reset, almost, you're gonna wanna adjust to your best advantage. That's what's been happening with these teams. When this all starts, they'll have to work with what they've got, you know?"
"Oh."
"And the Harpies have got plenty," Alicia reassured her. "I'd fear for maybe the Magpies... Their star player doesn't seem to be right in the head."
"If you say so, Miss Analyst." Katie laughed along with her. But she still had to wonder...
"Hey. Katie. Spacing out again! So when are you gonna see Oliver next?"
"Er, I don't know, actually."
"You don't. Know?"
Katie shook her head self-consciously. "I mean, this is all so new, I don't wanna..."
"Seriously. I'd be all up on that business if I were you. What? Don't look at me like that."
"Aargh! Leesh... I just... I wanna be cool, okay? He's so busy and so am I..." Katie trailed off, looking at Alicia warily.
"As if you could have gone any slower," Alicia joked. "Pass me that Butterbeer."
"So, are you gonna go out with Kai or something? You seem to be... much better," Katie plucked up the courage to remark as they stepped out of the Leaky. The girls were so full that they decided to take a stroll, not really meaning to go anywhere.
"Mmmm, he hasn't asked me out," admitted Alicia. "But I'll admit I'm looking forward to seeing him again. I'm covering the Arrows and a couple other teams when you guys go on tour."
"Tour?"
"You know, playing Quidditch come January."
"Oh, right. But you'd go out with him?" Katie prodded.
"Uh," Alicia hesitated. "Yeah? Why not. It would be a good change. If he even asks, I mean."
"And why wouldn't he?" Katie laughed. "You're brilliant!"
Alicia merely quirked a lip.
They walked in companionable silence for a while, breathing fog into the air and commenting about how cold the weather had really gotten. Finally Alicia said, "I think I'm ready to move on, Katie."
"Move on," Katie repeated, dumbstruck. "You mean -"
"Oh, no need to be so tactful. I'm not gonna run away again. I just want to forget. Forget George."
"And by forget, you mean..."
"I want you to Obliviate me, Katie."
"WHAT! No!"
"I"m kidding!" laughed Alicia, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "But y'know, if Fred had never died... I wonder."
"Oh, Leesh, we can't bring him back."
"Sometimes I misdirect my anger at him. Or maybe at Percy for not having his back."
"Percy is a ponce..."
"If Fred lived, would George still be mine?" Alicia looked up at Katie. "I thought he'd always be, sort of how Oliver was always yours... It just took you two longer to see it."
"Alicia, I -"
"Wait. If I know you, you're gonna apologize. It's not your fault. I'll admit though, I was a bit jealous. But I'm done being miserable. I realized that after I met Kai and it felt... okay."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." The girls stopped walking. Katie noticed a second later that they'd stopped right in front of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
"Let's keep going," Katie blurted.
"No," Alicia smiled at her bravely. "I'm ready." Taking Katie's arm, she steered them towards the shop. A little chime sounded as they walked inside.
"We're closed!" a disembodied voice came from the back, its owner rushed to the counter: "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to..." George rounded the corner and halted in his tracks. "Leave."
"If you want," joked Alicia weakly.
"N-no, st-stay!" stammered George, getting over his initial shock. "Please, sit. I just, uh, I was closing up and I, er. Bollocks."
"This probably isn't any of my business," Katie started. "Do you want me to..." she pointed her thumb to the door.
"Stay," both her friends practically yelled.
"...Okay," Katie said. "I'll just be over there." She made her way to some messy shelves and busied herself with righting the displays.
"So," Alicia began, "Is Ange around?"
"No," George shook his head fervently. "She's home, I think. Look, Leesh, I'm sorry. I didn't get to tell you before you left... I hadn't... I still haven't figured... Why'd you leave?"
From the corner of her eye, Katie saw Alicia shake her head. "George..."
Katie looked for somewhere to sit, anticipating that this would be a long talk. She plopped herself down on an innocuous-looking stool, only to jump back up in surprise when it emitted a loud, flatulent sound. "OH MY GOD!"
In spite of his nerves, George couldn't help but cackle. "Invisible fart cushions, sorry, love," he called. "Take one home, yeah? Stick it on Wood's broom seat for me?"
"Oh," sighed Katie in relief. She then conscientiously tried to drown out the sounds of Alicia's tale, eventually falling into a fitful nap against a shelf.
By the time she came to, she heard her friends speaking to one another in hushed tones.
"You've got to believe me, Leesh," George murmured brokenly, "Hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do. You mean so much to me."
"I do believe you," she replied, her tone of voice steady. "It hasn't been easy, but Ange needed - she needs you. And you need her. I've been getting better. Like you. You've been busy, and so have I. Friends?"
"You know it," George replied, although he sounded a bit uncertain. Katie couldn't have heard anything more unusual. More lightly, he said, "I've read your articles, you know. So... Quidditch reporting?"
Silence. Katie never would have guessed what Alicia said next. "Sorry. I just had to make sure Katie was asleep. It's kind of under wraps, but I had a double agenda coming to see you."
"What does that have to do with Quidditch? Are you in trouble? I have this cube I could install-"
"No, no trouble. At least, not yet."
"Leesh..."
"Just hear me out. I'm writing, but there's also something else I'm looking into. And I may need your help."
"I knew there was something fishy. Bill let slip about your curse-breaking stint - what? I didn't want to interrupt your story earlier. I just meant that you don't ditch training like that for, well... Witch Weekly. Or even sports writing. Unless... well, you really did leave just to, you know. Get away."
Alicia heaved a sigh. "George," she said tiredly, "I just wanted to ask for a few of your industrial strength extendable ears. Eavesdropping with the naked ear is pretty tiring."
Katie could relate. Alicia didn't actually say anything - was this about the trades? She'd been dodging the topic all night long.
"...Oh!" George sounded relieved, but still skeptical. "And here I thought you were getting into some dangerous business. Illicit broom dealing, maybe."
Alicia let out a courtesy laugh, which she abruptly cut when she heard a noise from Katie's corner. Katie swore internally - she'd knocked over a canister of some mystery goo by accident. "Oh, you're up!" Alicia said in a much louder voice.
"Hmm," Katie tried to sound disoriented. "I must have fallen asleep! What did I miss?"
"Nothing," Alicia shot George a look. "Those extendable ears, please? I'll pay."
"On the house, Leesh."
"Everything alright?" Katie asked, though she knew she'd cut their conversation off at a most inopportune moment.
Her two friends exchanged glances. "They will be," Alicia reassured them both.
A loaded silence later, and George proclaimed, "So! Did you want your ear like this one?" He put a hand to one ear and yanked it straight off, to Katie's supreme horror.
"George!"
"What? It's my fake ear, Kates," he laughed, handing it out to her. She stared at the thing, mouth hanging open. "Oh," he said, still mirthful. "You didn't know, did you? Death Eater blasted my real ear clean off. Bastard."
"But... It looked so real!" She poked it. It felt real, too.
"Why, thank you."
"You have a hole in your head!" She reacted belatedly. How did she not know this? Had he been wearing a prosthetic the entire time?
"Mum used to say she could finally tell us apart. Er. Me and Fred."
Katie's expression softened. "Oh, try not to look at me like that, Katie. I already know I'm devilishly handsome."
She smiled then. "Prat."
George made quick work of Alicia's package, handing it to her with a meaningful look. Katie didn't miss it, but all the same, she said, "So, if you guys are okay... Maybe wanna grab dinner sometime? We owe my folks, you know."
"Yeah," Alicia assented. "I miss them. Hey, invite Ange, maybe."
"Alright," Katie smiled, deeply relieved. "Are we good?"
"Let's go." The girls bid George goodbye, and stepped out of the shop.
"I'm gonna Portkey home," Katie informed her Alicia, taking a little pouch out of her pocket. "Too tired to Apparate to Wales."
"Don't risk it," Alicia agreed. "See you soon. Let's go at the count of three!" They counted up, and Katie touched her Portkey and vanished. Alicia waited a long beat before turning back around and walking into the shop.
Katie dumped her things onto her coffee table. Still bothered by her own ignorance of the goings-on in her business, she made a mental note to ask Bootsy to deliver her the paper daily. She also made up her mind to ask Lara about the trade. For some reason it bothered her. Even if Alicia assured her they were off-limits, she didn't like that the management was being so secretive. Is that where Lara had been off to?
She retired to her room and pulled out her playbook. She hadn't spoken to Oliver all day, so her giddiness to talk to him took over. Looking through the pages, she could see he'd had a busy day, but judging from the ink stains, he hadn't written for a while. Briefly she inspected an incomplete but rather silly play he'd named "The Destroyer" ("Ambitious," she smirked), then grabbed a quill and some ink.
Hey Captain! :) Just got back from dinner with Alicia. We saw George afterwards... I think they might be okay now. Are you busy tomorrow? I might have missed you today.
She penned the last line quickly, before she chickened out. Dropping the journal, she sauntered over to her bathroom and took a shower. By the time she returned, she was greatly pleased he'd penned a brief reply. Oliver never was far from his journal.
Hi! Been awfully busy today. I might have had some trouble focusing.
You? Trouble focusing? Since when?
A long pause followed.
It's nothing, he finally replied. Just one of those days, maybe.
Katie frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
I suppose it's nice to know you're not a Quidditch droid after all.
She also hoped she came across as light-hearted, but her chest was sinking as she waited for his reply.
What's a droid?
A Muggle robot? Electronic. A robot, incapable of feeling and stuff... ;)
He didn't respond. Er.
Well, I'm just winding down, she tried again. Dinner with Alicia was good.
Katie waited for his reply for a minute, two, but none came. Sighing, she closed her journal. She walked over to her dresser and slipped on just a cotton camisole and its matching pair of sleeping shorts. Just then, a knock came on her door.
"Uh, just a minute!" She threw on a robe and rummaged through her hamper for Bruna's dress. Good - she hadn't stained it. Her teammate was utterly meticulous when it came to her things. She made her way into her dark living room, not bothering with the lights. "I should have dropped this at yours sooner," she began, swinging the door open.
But it wasn't Bruna. It was Oliver, holding that silly stress ball they'd used as a Portkey and looking like he'd just run a mile.
"Well," he grinned, "You could have dropped it at my place. Then I wouldn't have had to come over."
Katie dropped the dress. Grabbing his shirt instead, she pulled him in for an enthusiastic kiss. "You prat," she murmured as he worked his lips down her neck. "I thought you were upset with me."
"It's all your fault. You called me a droid." He looked almost hurt.
"You didn't even know what that was."
"Valid point," Oliver acquiesced, "But I was far from upset." He led her to what was fast becoming his favorite couch. She smelled maddeningly delicious, and he told her just that as he pulled her onto his lap.
"Now you know how I always feel around you," she smirked as she straddled him, desire pooling at the bottom of her belly. She saw the same desire reflected in his darkened eyes and flushed face, and felt a hard length pressing urgently against her. "Captain," she gasped. When they'd snogged the night previous he'd been a perfect gentleman, but now... His surprise visit excited her, ignited her, had her wanting him to touch her all over.
"Sorry," he looked embarrassed. "I - mmph!"
Katie attacked his lips with renewed fervor, letting her hands fall from his hair to run down his shoulders, biceps and forearms, which had wrapped around her back. She took his hands and guided them lower, giving him a meaningful look as she planted them firmly on her bum. He got the message, squeezing her cheeks and pulling her closer and grinding his member, now rock-hard, against her center with a moan. There was no doubting it - he wanted her. And by Morgana, she wanted him, too.
His hands roamed back up her curves to cup her face for a searing kiss, and then traveled to her shoulders to push her robe down her arms. She shivered, pulling away a little. "It's cold, Captain," she giggled as he kissed her neck.
"Is that so?" he pulled back, looking down at her form. She was wearing precious little - her arms and legs were completely exposed, with goosebumps rising on her skin. He couldn't help but notice she wasn't wearing a bra, and her breasts, round and pert, strained against the fabric of her low-cut top. "May I keep you warm?" he asked, gaze transfixed on the outline of her hardened nipples.
"Please," she moaned, pulling his head back closer. A thrill ran through her body to replace the chill as he raised his hands to touch her breasts for the first time, lightly, reverently. He ran his thumbs over her peaks before giving them a light squeeze. She let out a little giggle. "That tickles."
"Hey, Katie?" A familiar voice called. "I saw your door was open so I came by to grab my dre - oh!" Bruna, the queen of ill-timed entry stood gaping in the doorway, which was indeed open and letting the cold air in. The two jumped, and Oliver scrambled to cover Katie back up with her robe. "Sorry," Bruna squeaked, averting her eyes. "If this is a bad time, I can just..." seeing her dress discarded on the floor, she grabbed it, slammed the door, and ran off.
Flabbergasted, Katie clutched her robe to her chest, mouth agape. Oliver looked similarly flustered. "I'm so sorry, Captain," she managed, before climbing off him and straightening her clothes. "I didn't know what came over me."
"No, I'm sorry, Kates." He grabbed her hand and sat her back down. "I'm sorry for coming over unannounced and acting... I was uncouth."
"Not more uncouth than me," she blushed, although she let him wrap a reassuring arm around her. "I... we shouldn't have."
Oliver murmured his assent against her temple. "Let's get you warm," he declared, and clearing his throat, he pointed his wand at her fireplace and got a little blaze started. "There."
"Thanks." The light the fire lent the room helped her see him better. His hair was tousled, lips swollen. And he was taking deep breaths to steady himself. She felt she must have looked the same.
They sat in reflective, companionable silence for a few minutes before Katie said, "I should probably apologize to Bruna. Again."
"She should apologize," Oliver said weakly. "She's the one who keeps barging in."
"We left the door open, you prat. There's no explaining my way out of this."
"I'm sorry I put you in that position, Kates," Oliver said earnestly. "I wasn't acting like a gentleman."
"Don't be. I wasn't exactly being a proper lady, either. I'm so embarrassed." She groaned into his shoulder, pulling her legs up and in front of her chest. "What do I tell Bruna?"
"The truth, I suppose? I can't imagine she even believed you the last time she saw us in a... compromising position."
Katie slapped his chest lightly. "Coach is going to kill me."
"I certainly hope not. I'd miss you."
"Say your goodbyes, Captain..."
"No!" Oliver held her tighter. Softly, he said, "Well, one thing's for sure... Kates, we need to take things slow."
Katie nodded. "I agree."
"I care about you too much to let certain..." Oliver swallowed, "Urges... get the better of me. It won't be easy, I'll tell you that. You're too... you for your own good." He didn't mention Quidditch - he'd figure out how to regain focus. Just not right now.
"I could say the same for you," Katie chortled, poking him in the ribs.
"Aah!" he cried. "You're going to pay for that, Bell!" he retaliated in kind, tickling her off the couch and onto her carpet before the fireplace. They rolled around, snogging forgotten, until they lay in a heap, laughing in spite of being winded.
As they settled down, Katie inspected the freckles across his nose and met his gaze, which was quickly growing dark again. He trained his eyes on her lips, and she licked them self-consciously. "You'd better go, Captain," she murmured before her resolve wore off. She had so much to discuss with him, but now didn't seem to be the time. They'd just end up... she blushed.
Oliver nodded, and she pressed her lips against his lightly. She pushed up off his firm chest and averted her gaze as he got up. She knew all too well the effect his body had on her. She let him take her hand and lead her back to her front door. "Have you got another Portkey?" she thought to ask.
"I wish I didn't," Oliver quirked one side of his mouth.
"Me too, Captain," Katie gave him a small push. "Go."
"No good night kiss?" he wrapped his arms around her one last time. She pretended to sigh, "Fine." On her tiptoes, she offered him her lips, which he claimed with his. Gentle, sweet, controlled. Chaste.
"Good night, Captain," she smiled as she opened the door for him.
"Good night, Kates. I'll see you soon." Sticking a hand in his back trouser pocket, he whirled around and vanished.
"Soon," Katie thought giddily as she felt her still-tingling lips. Soon couldn't come soon enough.
A/N: Well? A little bit of everything in this chapter - it all has a point, I promise! How'd you like that last bit? Loved it? Hated it? Please leave me a review and let me know! I'd particularly appreciate signed reviews because I'd love to pick your brains for feedback. Super important goings-on in the next few chapters, and I could use all the help! xx Izzo