Chapter 3

Our Strapping Young Captain

A/N: Here's a Katie POV Chapter! Set at the beginning of her fifth year cause we're aging up over here. 2024 Rewrite edition.

"Oliver Wood's looking extremely fit," Angelina said offhandedly as she, Alicia and I lounged in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, "summer did that man a solid."

I choked on my caldron cake.

"Easy there, Kates," Alicia thumped my back with excessive force.

"I mean he's always been hot, in a rugged sort of way," Angelina ceded, picking at the nothing under her neatly manicured nails.

"Wood?" I protested, face pink, "He's our captain, he practically exists on another planet."

"A hot planet," Alicia offered, grinning at Angelina conspiratorially.

My eyes bugged out of my head.

"Look, I'm not saying I'd shag him or anything, but he's a good looking bloke," Angelina eyed me innocently.

"Agreed, objectively," Alicia said, opening a chocolate frog. Dumbledore's smile twinkled brightly as his trading card was flicked unceremoniously onto an empty seat.

This was an unfortunate trajectory of conversation. It was well known (to everyone except Oliver himself) that I'd had a substantial crush on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for a number of years. What began as a vague inclination morphed into an insatiable infatuation that had ended abruptly when I fell off my broomstick at practice one day last year because I was staring too hard at a supremely skilled save by our supremely skilled keeper. A deep shame and embarrassment had nipped that situation in the bud.

I could feel the flush of my cheeks darken perceptibly when, as if on queue, Oliver Wood appeared, sliding open the compartment door. He looked good, Merlin help me. He hadn't changed into his robes yet, and the jeans and t-shirt combination he was sporting did strange things to my lung capacity. He'd clearly trained in the summer sun, judging by the way his frame had filled out and the tanned hue of his skin. His woodsy scent drafted into the compartment, enveloping me pleasantly as he leaned against the doorframe.

The look on Angelina's face bordered on evil as she said slyly, "Well, well, well, if it isn't our darling Captain."

I willed her to keep her conniving, horny thoughts to herself with what I hoped was a deeply threatening glance.

"Ladies," Oliver nodded to us, nonplussed, "have you seen Fred and George?"

I shook my head before either Angelina or Alicia could reply, "I'd wager they're off selling something dangerous to gullible first years."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up as if this was something he should have seen coming, but was an unpleasant surprise nonetheless.

"Right," he pursed his lips. It had the effect of reinforcing the strong curve of his jaw, and my eyes roamed over his face for a moment too long.

Damned Angelina and her stupid conversational proclivities.

"I hope you all trained this summer," Oliver was ever the diligent captain, "We got lucky last year. This year the other teams won't make the same mistakes. We'll need to train twice as hard."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Oliver, we're well aware you're about to make our lives a living hell."

He ignored her comment.

"First practice is on Monday," Oliver said as he stood up straight, "Twenty laps if you're late."

He slid the compartment door closed behind him, leaving nothing but the vague scent of his soap and a beat of silence.

Angelina clicked her tongue loudly.

"See what I mean?" She asked, folding her legs beneath her.

I glared at her, jabbing a finger toward the compartment door, "That's a man whose one true love is a sports game."

"Come off it," Alicia said through a mouthful of chocolate frog, "You were eyeing him, Katie, there's no shame in that."

Had I been eyeing him? Sure. Some habits are hard to break.

"We all know you have a taste for our favorite certain Quidditch-centric Scotsman," Angelina added, "I'm just saying I appreciate that taste."

"Had," I grumbled, nibbling on the corner of my caldron cake, " I had a taste."

"Oh, did you?" Alicia's eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

"Oh bollocks, you know what I mean."

I stared out the window. Angelina could sense the shift in my mood and asked Alicia about her summer conquests, initiating a conversation about a pretty barista who worked the coffee shop she'd frequented this summer.

It was stupid, really. I had no reason to expect that I was the only person who would notice that Oliver was so striking. Of course he was going to get attention. He had the unfair combination of dark, thoughtful eyes and more skill on the Quidditch pitch than any keeper in recent Hogwarts history.

I wouldn't let it bother me, though. I was just looking out for him, as a friend. That phase of our one-sided relationship was over, I was done pining.

Clearly.

I sank into the dreamy dread of emotional turmoil as northern England slipped past outside, wondering what can of worms I'd inadvertently opened for myself going into this term.