Name: Oliver Wood, saviour of all womankind.
Age: Devilishly just right
Hair: Just plain devilish.
Current Mood: Slightly breathless
Current Location: In some hidden room on the fifth floor Fred and George told me about.
I spent all day during class coming up with some new Quidditch plays, and there was only one person who could read over them for me. Bell. And at nine o'clock at night, there'd be only one place she'd be. In the library, wading through some homework. Sure enough, she was there, trying vainly to do some Herbology essay. Instead, she was drawing Sprout being eaten by what appeared to be the Horrible Hornucolous. Damn. That was a pretty decent drawing.
She crashed just after midnight. Poor kid. I gathered up our Quidditch plays (they are sacred and must be guarded by myself at all times) and then sent her off to bed. I should have walked with her to her dormitories. I know I should have. It's just, that Herbology essay was harder than I remember it being. Okay, well, maybe I would have finished it sooner if I hadn't been distracted. Bell was distracting me, okay. Don't ask me how, she just was. But five minutes after I sent her away, I knew. Something was wrong. Something had happened to Bell. I sprinted out of that library to find her.
I found her on the fifth floor landing, leaning against the wall, clutching her head and moaning.
I shook her by the shoulders. "Bell? Bell? Talk to me. What happened?"
"Nothing." She said thickly, pinching her nose between her fingers.
"I'm your Captain, and you'll damn well tell me what happened."
"I ran into a wall." She finally offered. B.S. I can read my Chaser, and that didn't happen.
Smooth, Wood. Your one chance to play the hero, and you arrive too late.
"What's goin' on 'ere?" Came that sharp, shrill voice of Filch's. It raises the hairs on the back of your neck and makes your balls shrink back inside you, I swear. I grabbed Bell's elbow and sprinted the length of the corridor, only stopping to throw her behind some hanging Persian rug thing George had told me was a good spot if I wanted some alone time with …I forget what her name was. Henrietta Herbowitz perhaps. Unfortunate last name, but that girl could kiss.
"Give me a look at that." I whispered as I cupped Bell's chin under my hand and pushed her fringe aside. Her whole forehead was red and swelling. Perhaps she really had run into a wall. I muttered a Charm I'd learnt was good against stopping swellings and bruises.
She settled her head against my chest weakly, struggling to catch her breath.
"Thanks for that," She mumbled the words against me, each breath sending shivers tumbling down my spine.
I huffed and puffed, catching my breath in a victorious manner. Take that Filch. He gave me detention once in first year, and I was not keen to repeat that torture any time soon. I waited fifteen minutes or so (about ten minutes longer than absolutely necessary, to be honest) and then whispered, "I think the coast is clear." But she'd already fallen asleep against me. I'd have to put her to bed again. I was starting to see a pattern here, and I wasn't complaining.