Name: Would you believe, I once heard a rather interesting Quidditch chant with my name in it, which I shall not repeat here. But apparently I'm very good… at something. I'll just leave that up to your imaginations.
Age: 17 years, 342 days, 16 minutes, 55 seconds – Fred and George made me an Age Counter out of boredom in Charms class yesterday. They say it's going to do something surprising when I turn eighteen, which has me fearing for my safety.
Hair: I'm honestly surprised I haven't been talent-scouted as a hair model. My hair-style should be in every hairdresser's front window…
Current Mood: Serenity
Current Location: Quidditch practise, dodging super-charged Bludgers, catching heavy medicine-balls in by the tips of my fingers, avoiding one pissed-off Bell who's head-hunting me at the moment: just the way I like it.

Honestly, by the way my team was looking at me you'd think I'd just revoked their Hogsmeades visits and given them detention with Snape for a fortnight. It's Quidditch practise: an enjoyable, peaceful time. A time of reflection and fun. As long as it's Quidditch-related fun and reflection, mind you.

I was currently trying to persuade Bell, who was being purposefully contrary and difficult, to do this one spectacular play I dreamt up a few nights ago. In my dream, she completely nailed the manoeuvre; Gryffindor won the cup, I was accepted to Puddlemere United and Bell and I…Well, yeah, I don't expect that bit to actually happen. Usually Bell's up for kind of tricky manoeuvre or challenge, but for some reason she needed some convincing for this play.

"Look Ma, no hands!" Angelina skimmed past us as I was trying to demonstrate to Bell. Angelina's balance was completely perfect, so I don't see why Bell was raising such a fuss. For God's sake, all she has to do is keep two feet – or even one little toe, I don't really care how she does it – on her broom as she hurtles around a moving obstacle course at 100 miles an hours, 200 feet up in the air. What's the big problem?

Johnson was still buzzing around us like a persistent fly.

"Johnson, cease and desist."
"Wood, why can't Angelina or Alicia do this play?" Bell whinged.
"Because I want you to." I answer. I can't understand how someone who flies with so much precision can be such a klutz on two legs. Flying in much more difficult that it looks; you have to take into account all the different air pressures, wind speeds, tail winds, head winds, banking and breaking and tonnes of other stuff. With walking, you pretty much just put one foot in front of the other, but there were days it seemed Bell couldn't even manage that. I was interrupted from my thoughts when Bell whined,

"I'll end up killing myself." And then she pouted. POUTY LIPS! If there's one thing that distracts me from Quidditch, it's pouty lips. That was a sneaky trick. She must know that pouty lips always distract me.

"I don't care, as long as you make that play," I said, still dazzled… Pouty lips…My mouth tends to run away with my brain when I'm distracted, and I tend to say exactly what wafts into my head at the time. Which thankfully was not "pouty lips." Instead I wondered aloud if ghosts could still count as a team member. And Bell heard me. And I'm no specialist when it comes to understanding the minds of girls, but I think she may have misinterpreted my comment as a lack of concern on the matter of her mortal well-being. And I'm not entirely positive, but it might have pissed her off. She flew up to me, still standing straight on her broom. Perfect – if she could fly like that during the game we'd be set.

"Wood, if there's one person here who should be dead, by rights it ought to be you!" I was wondering when she'd bring that up. She's so cute when she's angry. Dammit, my brain was still on autopilot… No, Wood, she's not cute. She's annoying. Distracting. Funny-looking when she screws her face up like that. Yeah, we'll go with that last one. That one's the safest thought. "You got me a detention with Sprout." With every word she poked me in the arm. It hurt a bit. But only a little, okay? She got me in that really tender spot where there's those nerve clusters. It hurt, okay? As she assaulted me I could see the scratches, with the little beads of blood, up and down her arms. Hmmm. I had originally thought she'd gotten into a tiff with Hermione Granger's crazed cat, but obviously not. She'd had a run-in with the Horrible Hornuculous.

"Well, did you read the assignment before you handed it in?" I countered, grabbing her wrist and shoving her backwards with it. Bell's face mirrored a stunned haddock as she tried to come up with a come-back. "Didn't think so." I smirked. Score 1 for the Keeper.

It took Bell a split-second to regain her balance before she flew straight back into my face and had another go at me – I think she's gotten the hang of manoeuvre now.

"I shouldn't have to." She tried to crash-tackle me and stay on her broom at the same time. She was doing a pretty good job of it. "You're supposed to be my friend, and that was a low, nasty trick." Giving up on tackling me, she changed tactics and opted for guilt-tripping instead. That's my girl. Dimly I heard Angelina worrying as usual. She was right – we were getting off-track and we could still cram another hour into practise, if we were lucky.

"Bell, I'm not getting into an argument with you about this - it's not even Quidditch related. Let's just sort out these plays on the pitch while it's still light and then we can sort this out later." Bell pegged a Quaffle at me in retaliation. My brilliantly-honed Keeper skills ensured I caught it. Let's hear it for the Captain – Score 2 to me. I twirled the Quaffle on one finger, showing off a bit.

"There's nothing you can throw at me that I can't catch, Bell." Right there, that was when I jinxed her.

I didn't even hear the Bludger whistling through the air until George swore. His finely-tuned Beater ears meant he heard it a split-second before the rest of us, but even by then it was already too late. Bell let out a little shriek as the Bludger hit her, or as she lost her balance, I don't know. But all Quidditch players are so practised at falling off their brooms that they barely shout out when it happens. Bell stopped screaming almost straight-away, which meant I couldn't see her and I couldn't hear her. If she'd kept screaming I might have been able to find her, to catch her before she hit the ground. As it was, the only other sound I heard was complete silence, until the impact. And she hit the ground hard. I was diving after her, and it was so dark I couldn't tell where the sky ended and the earth began. It was only after hearing her that I pulled up sharply – I was only inches away from the ground myself.

I pelted over to her, stumbling on my robes and falling to her side. I grabbed her shoulders and lifted her, so she could see my face properly and I could see hers.

"Bell, I couldn't see you fall, I didn't know where you were." I tried to explain it to her, but my voice was cracking and I don't know if she heard me. I had to explain it to her before she blacked out. I don't know. I just wanted to let her know why I wasn't there to save her. Again. I didn't want her to sink into unconsciousness feeling alone. And if I wanted to be selfish, I didn't want her sinking into unconsciousness being angry at me.

She let out a strangled cry. Shit. This was bad. Bell never admits to being in pain. I've seen her with broken wrists, arms, legs and she just laughed it off like it was nothing. But now she was having trouble breathing, and I immediately suspected a punctured lung. I brushed some hair from her eyes so I could see them more clearly.

"Bell, no dying on me. Remember the deal? I make all my players sign the "No-dying-before-the-end-of-the-season contract." I was meant to pass it off as a joke, but I sounded slightly panicked and hysterical. If any other of her ribs had shattered and caused damage, she could have blood pooling into her lungs, drowning her.

Bell just laughed it off, like she had all of her other injuries. She was trying to be strong. If not for herself, than for me. She didn't want to worry me, her Captain. I can't believe that girl some times. She bit back another cry of pain. Jesus, Mary. It cut me down to the quick. Never in my life have I felt more helpless, more hopeless. It was like watching a Quaffle soar through my unguarded hoops in slow motion. Only two thousand times worse. Bell must have read the look of guilt on my face.

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to off me." She managed courageously. "You didn't even knock me out."

"You had me worried for a minute there." I whispered. I couldn't take my eyes off her, I couldn't untangle my hands from her hair. It was like I was magnetically drawn.

Stuff it, I wasn't fighting this anymore. Bell has to almost die for me to sort out my feelings towards her, and I wasn't letting this chance get away from me. Trying to catch Bell was like trying to catch the rain, or the wind. She was a force of nature, and this might be my only chance for a long time to catch her still.

So I kissed her. But when I pulled back and opened my eyes, she was already unconscious.

Anyone want to give me any ideas on where to head next? I'm not completely muse-less; I have a basic outline in mind, but various scenarios could be added in. And there was a KISS for those hormone-crazed so-and-so's. 'FINALLY' I hear you shriek. 'But wait, you cheated, Elinai - Katie wasn't actually awake to witness it.' It's progress though. They're getting there. Next time, there may be more fireworks and magic, so to speak. I'll stop punning now.