Name: We'll move onto first name basis hey? It's Katie
Age: If you don't know by now, I give up
Hair: Angelina braided it for me :)
Current Mood: Death to Herbology! Seriously contemplating setting the Greenhouses on fire, only I actually like Professor Sprout. Even though she's failing me.
Current Location: Library.

"Bell…" Oliver begun, interrupting my concentration. I was hunched over my Herbology essay and Wood was on the other side of the desk, madly scribbling down Quidditch manoeuvres, drawing lines and arrows with great gusto and flourish.
"What?" I sighed. I was in the middle of drawing the Horrible Hornucolous devouring Professor Sprout. It wasn't helping me write my essay on "How to prune the Horrible Hornucolous without needing several blood transfusion Charms," but it was letting me vent.
"I'll do your Herbology homework if you look over these Quidditch plays for me?" He even gave me Scottish puppy-dog (Scottish terrier?) eyes. Not that that what even required. I practically launched myself over the table to get to those game strategies. Anything apart from Herbology.

"This drawing is pretty good." Wood commented after several moments, crooked grin on his face. Perhaps he doesn't like Sprout that much either.
"Mmmmhmm." I muttered non-committedly, Charming out a few of Oliver's arrows. Flint was left handed, so we shouldn't aim to the left all the time. And it seemed Wood thought there was triple of himself to guard Gryffindor goals at one period of time. I alerted him of my discovery.
"Oh yeah, I was going to do that double-figure-eight move."
"Well, you'll have to practise your turns. You're getting sloppily." He just grinned, shook his head and went back to work on my Herbology essay. Ha, Wood really got the short end of the stick there, having to write an entire Herbology essay. I could proof his plays all night. All freakin night.

"Bell, go to bed and get some rest." Oliver's voice jerked me awake, and my knees thumped on the bottom of the desk. Ouch. I twitch something terrible when people wake me up.
"Fine." I mumbled and shuffled off to sleep. I mean bed. Whatever.
"Bell."
"Mmmm."
"The exit to the library is the other way."
"Mmmm." I dimly noticed he laid down his quill.

"Do you want me to make sure you get there safely, and not walk out the second floor window?" My sleepy brain detected some amount of concern behind those words of sarcasm.
"Nep." I mumbled. I should have made Oliver escort me. Because, as it turns out, I did need someone to make sure I got to Gryffindor safely.

I was probably half-way to Gryffindor tower, and I was so tired I didn't even care about Snape or any other patrolling Professors. Yesterday we'd lost our first ever match of the season, and I was a little down. 'Down' was nothing in comparison to how Oliver was feeling. I think he was in either the first or second stage of grief recovery. You know: shock, anger, denial, bargaining, depression, guilt and acceptance. I don't think he'd ever get to the acceptance stage.

I was a lost in these thoughts when I slammed into a solid wall. I didn't know there was a wall there, I thought stupidly. I know I'm half-asleep, but I usually manage to avoid solid objects. But it turns out it wasn't a wall. Two arms snaked around me, drawing me closer.

"Oi!" I yelled in shock, trying to step back. The person just shoved me rougher into them.
"Katie, Katie, Katie." Hissed Marcus Flint, hot breath on my ear. "I saw you yesterday, and I can't seem to get you out of my head since then."
"Get off." I tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
"That's right. Just keep squirming. I like it." I stopped stock still. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew. Ew.

Okay, it was time to end this, seeing as he obviously wasn't getting the message. I might be failing most classes, but if there was a class at Hogwarts that specialised in hexes and jinxes, I would be top. Except for Fred and George, but they're a year above me anyway.

I felt my back jeans pocket for my wand. My wand. My wand was currently on the library table, next my Herbology books. Back with Wood. Frick. When I felt Flint's hand slide over my jeans back pocket, I stopped worrying about a wand. I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught it easily.

"That's not very sportsmanlike of you," He grinned, shoving me back into a wall. It hurt like hell, and my back gave a small crack of protest. "Just one kiss, Katie, and I'll get you out of my head." Sure, I'll give him a kiss. A Liverpool one. His disgusting face was so close to my own, it was just too easy to slam my forehead down on his already tender nose.

He screamed like a banshee and fell back into a tapestry, which must have some hidden passageway, because Flint tumbled out of sight. Well, I think he disappeared from sight; my head was throbbing and I was having trouble with my vision.

"Gahhhh." I breathed, clutching my forehead with both hands, bracing myself against the wall for support.

I was in a darkened hallway at about one in the morning, well after lights out, in so much pain I could barely move. A shadow moved across my line of vision, blocking out the dim light from the torch several feet down the corridor. I was so getting a detention.

Scribe of Aurora – thanks for pointing out my boo-boo's. The first was intentional – I've noticed a few writers have made Katie a year old to be the same age as Angelina and Alicia, and to make the age gap between Oliver and her less noticeable.
The second was me being lazy, and I apologise for it. I recently moved for school and don't have any of my HP books for reference, so I guessed. And guessed incorrectly. So just imagine the Fred-Angelina, George-Alicia pairings however they are in the HP books.
Ditto with the Charlie-Bill error about dragons. I have no head for names, I swear.