This is my first Harry Potter fic, written late at night. I hope you enjoy it.

Oh and I don't own Harry Potter. Sucks to be me.


I wasn't totally sure where I was. Standing atop some sort of stone structure somewhere around the school felt oddly familiar, but at the same time, was frustratingly new. The only thing I could place happily, with a small pang of glee, was my hand, encased tightly in his grasp. He turned, and I looked over, his brown eyes shone in the dimness of the evening and I bit my lip. He moved closer, thoughts swirling with emotion in my head until I felt dizzy and disoriented. Only after another second would I realize that this came not from y scatterbrained state, but from the feel of his lips on mine. And the way he said my name after the kiss broke, so-

"Katie? Kates? Are you all right?"

"Hm?" I sat up, frowning, and looking into the face of Fred Weasley. "What happened?"

"You, my dear Katie," George said playfully, kneeling beside me, "Just got nailed in the head by a bludger, courtesy of my brother here."

"Ouch," I muttered, at the time noticing the splitting pain in my skull.

"I'll take her to the hospital Wing," Oliver's voice came from behind me and I felt his hands on my side-

"I can walk!" I said hurriedly, standing and falling right back against him.

"Oh really?" he asked, angling his head to look down at me, "You can walk, can you?"

I scowled, "Such a gentleman," he picked me up.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, and, if I wasn't as loopy as I thought I was, I could detect a hint of worry in his voice. Oh, gods, what was I thinking? Of course he's worried, I'm part of the team, I'm his friend, I got hit in the head by a flying rock!

"Hard to say," I said, "A little better."

"Good," he smiled, "You had me pretty worried, Kates." I smiled back, listening to his voice, the warmth of it, the accent making it more his own…

"Well, I would say I was worried too," I laughed dryly, "But I was unconscious."

"Precisely," he said, nodding.

"I'm going to murder Fred," I muttered, as another wave of pain came through my head. I groaned and laid my head against his shoulder, hating myself for doing it, but happy the pain was somewhat relieved.

Oliver chuckled, and I felt a blush threaten to spread across my face.

Soon, I was in my bed at the Hospital Wing, the one I'd been in so many times before. This was most likely due to the fact that I had earned a certain amount of clumsiness over the span of my Hogwarts education, and if you compile that with the most dangerous sport in the known world – you have a problem. I spent most of my time asleep – Fred gave me a bloody concussion. Idiot.

And soon, I was having another dream again. Another dream in which I stood facing the same guy, hearing the warmth in his laugh, seeking comfort in his arms… Merlin, I was insane. You shouldn't ever think that about your captain. He was your captain. Your boss. Though I had never met a boss with the same gorgeous coffee-tinted eyes.

Once again, I heard my name, same smooth accent, unattainable by anyone other than him. I opened my eyes, gasping slightly as I saw his face, and then slid up in my little bed, "Oh, hey Oliver."

"Hey," he said, "Feeling better?"

I nodded, "Yes, you'd be surprised how much I've been asleep…"

"I know," he smiled, "Madame Pomfrey told me."

I nodded. "Chatting up every girl we see now, are we?"

"Well she had to care for you," he smiled, and continued jokingly, "I think she deserves a break."

"Ha," I said, leaning back against the wall. He sat there for a moment, looking around the room with a look in his eyes that I found familiar, yet out of place. That look of determination, yet minor unease, always present right before a match. "So how are you?" I asked, slightly put off but that look.

"Well, actually," he said, turning back and looking at me, "I was wondering if you were planning to stay in here forever."

I blinked, "What?"

"Well," he said, swallowing, "If you were going to be out by this weekend, I thought maybe you could go down to Hogsmeade…" he paused, "blimey – I'm no good at this," he set his jaw and looked at me again, "Do you want to go down with me – after the game. There were some strategies we could discuss and-"

"Like a date?" I blurted in disbelief, then second-guessed myself, "Or payback for allowing me to get a concussion?"

"Does it matter?" he smirked slightly, his eyes with a slight twinkle.

"Date it is," I said, leaning back, covering up my incredulity with cockiness, "You were pretty bad at that."

"And you would have done better?"

Leave it to me to turn the perfect moment into an argument. "Yes," I said.

"Oh really?" he leaned in, challenging me, "Just like you could walk?" He was pretty close. His arm brushed mine, and I felt my skin tingle, the shock leaving me suddenly alert, and so very conscious of her presence so close to me.

"Yes," I repeated, "I believe I could."

"Give it a go," his breath was a whisper on my cheek.

"Ollie," I said, "I have a question."

He chuckled, "Yes, Kates?"

I closed the distance between us quickly, our lips meshing together quickly. I felt him still for a second, and then kiss me back. His hand trailed up my arm, each brush like a firework against my skin, and finally rested on my back. He ran his tongue against my lips, and sucked on my lower lip, begging for entrance. Soon, we were sparring with each other, like two teams in a Quidditch match. My arms snaked around his neck, and my fingers were entangled in his chocolate brown hair.

Then there was laughing.

I walked out of the Hospital Wing that day, my hand in Oliver's grasp.

Fred didn't.


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