Disclaimer: If I owned Oliver Wood, I wouldn't be writing stories...

Dear Katie,
I can't believe that there isn't any quidditch at Hogwarts this year. Good thing I'm gone, right? I'd probably have gone insane! Puddlemere is amazing, and I can't wait to play a game. Captain says that I'm a first in line reserve, cool huh? Anyway, enough about me. I hope you're doing alright, and that you haven't blown up anything in Transfiguration.

I have to go write a letter to Fred and George before practice starts. They sent me a singing toilet seat! Where do they get these ideas?

Oliver. That was it, not 'Yours' or 'Love', just simply, 'Oliver.' He gave no indication that we had spent five months of his last year dating each other, or that he missed me in the slightest bit. Good thing he was gone? How insane was the poor boy? I groaned, slumping over in the chair that sat before the fireplace. No one sits in a fifteen foot radius of me anymore; they're too scared that I'll start yelling about how boys have no bloody feelings, or worse--that I'll start crying. One spectacle in the Great Hall and now I'm being treated like a leper. Oliver's owl, Quaffle (leave it up to Oliver Wood to name an owl after a red ball), sits on the fireplace mantle, obviously given orders not to leave without a response. I sighed, and began my letter.

Dear Oliver,
Why are you such a twit? Can't you tell that I miss you and that I'm still madly in love with you? I need you to come back right away because I can't stand another day without--

No, that certainly wouldn't do.

Dear Oliver,
I'm glad you're having so much fun without me or the rest of your team. I'm not alright, in fact I've blown up three clocks in Transfiguration so far, and no one will come in speaking distance of me except for Leesh, Ang, and the twins. I guess when you start crying and ranting at first years because ex-boyfriends are insensitive jerks who deserve to hang by their underwear from quidditch hoops, people avoid you. You are a perfect louse of a friend and an even worse ex-boyfriend.

"What do I want him to think? That I've gone off the deep end?" I asked myself, smashing the paper into a ball, and then throwing it into the fire before making another attempt.

Dear Oliver,
It's beastly unfair that there isn't any quidditch this year, but this tournament is fairly fun. I'm glad you're having a good time at Puddlemere United, and I'm sure that you'll get to play soon. Even though you were an insane Captain with an odd addiction to dawn practices, I'm sure you're an even better player than you were. I'm fine, but I fear for Angelina's safety. I think her head might explode soon, and poor Fred can hardly speak without her screaming. I think she misses quidditch more than anyone (aren't you proud?). A toilet seat, eh? Did it happen to sing 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Goblin
'? Because if it did, I have absolutely no idea where they would have gotten that idea...

"KATIE-BOO, WHERE ARE YOU?" Fred and George Weasley shouted in unison.

Oh no, I have to hide, I have to hide, but where? Oh no, they've spotted me. Please let me sink into this chair! Merlin, I'll give up chocolate frogs for a year! Too late. Okay, so maybe I wouldn't have given up chocolate frogs...

"Hello Katie-kins. Sulking are we?" George said in a singsong tone.

"No, I am not," I said indignantly, tying Oliver's letter to Quaffle's leg and carrying him to the window.

"Ooh, a letter to Ollie-kins! We got one too, Katie, we got one too!" Fred squealed, jumping around.

"You didn't tell him, did you?"

"That you were the one who decided to enchant the toilet seat into singing? Of course not, why would we do that?" George asked innocently.

"That you would doubt us in keeping secrets is a shame!" Fred said, burying his face in a handkerchief.

"Or as Oliver would say, 'We bleedin' well cannae have doon that to ya lass,' George said in an almost perfect imitation of our old Captain.

"I'm sorry, why don't we go get some dinner? It's a perfect opportunity for George to stare at Alicia!"

George Weasley's ears turned bright red, and he mumbled something that resembled, "I don't like her."

Fred and I laughed as we dragged George off towards the Great Hall where our brunette friend was waiting with our tall dark friend, Angelina Johnson.

"Hi, Leesh," George said shyly.

"Hi, George," Alicia said dreamily, sipping her pumpkin juice.

"Valentines Day is coming really soon," George said thoughtfully.

"Mhmm," Alicia said, staring at him until he looked away and started shoveling potatoes into his mouth.

This was way too painful to watch. I kicked George in the shin underneath the table, and he spit potatoes all over the table in front of him. I cocked an eyebrow at him, and he cleared his throat.


"Yes George?" Alicia said, looking hopeful.

"Do you want to um-go for a walk?"

"I'd like that."

Angelina, Fred, and I watched the two stroll off through the Great Hall doors.

"Well I guess everyone has a Valentine now," I said softly.

"Oh Katie, don't look so disappointed. Oliver's always been obsessed with quidditch, you had to have known he would have been an idiot about going away," Angelina said firmly.

"I know. Uhg, that barmy-arse-in-a-kilt!" I muttered, letting my head fall onto the table.

"Cheer up Kates, Valentines Day is overrated anyway," Fred said, patting me on the back.

"Do you really think that Fred?" Angelina asked quietly.

Oh no, now Fred's in trouble. I should help him out.

"Of course he doesn't mean that Ang, he's just trying to make me feel better. Right, Fred?"

"Yeah!" Fred agreed enthusiastically, looking relieved that I'd saved his arse.

"Oh okay," Ang said happily, scooping treacle onto her plate.

"I'm going to bed. See you in the morning," I said, shoving away from the table and dragging myself to the portrait hole.

"Password?" The Fat Lady asked with a giggle. Looks like she and her friend, Vi, had found the fire whiskey.

"Faerie wings," I muttered, climbing into the common room and escaping to my dormitory.

I fell into my bed after pulling a photo out from underneath my pillow. It was a photo of Oliver and me after his last quidditch match, and we were covered in mud. Oliver had his arm around me, and we were laughing at the camera. I heard Ang and Leesh giggling as they opened the door, so I stashed the photo under my pillow before feigning sleep.

"Do you think she knows, Ang?" Leesh whispered.

"I seriously doubt it; she doesn't pay attention these days."

"I want her to be happy again, I hope it helps."

"Shh, I think I saw her move. Let's get to bed. Wonder what George has in store for you tomorrow!"


I heard Leesh giggle as she thumped Angelina with her pillow. Soon the room was filled with the sounds of their soft breathing and I was lying awake, wondering what they were talking about.

"Good morning Katie!" Alicia squealed.

"Morning. Why are you so bubbly?"

"It's Valentines Day, silly! We're going to Hogsmeade!"

"You mean you four are going; I don't want to be the fifth wheel."

"Don't worry, just get dressed! Angelina wants to do your makeup to make you feel better. I call your hair and outfit!"

I sighed; this was going to be a long, long day. An hour later, I stood in front of the mirror. Angelina and Alicia were giggling like mad.
I had to admit, I didn't look half bad, although wearing a skirt in snowy weather probably wasn't the best idea.

"Oh girrrrrrls!" Fred shouted in his best valley-girl impression.

Fred and George burst into the room and froze before coming to their senses and gushing over how lovely we looked. Was I the only one who didn't know how they managed to get up here?

"Oh Katie darling, you look spiffing!" George said, patting my hair and pinching my cheek. I growled, and he dropped his hand.

"Let's go," Angelina said, marching down the staircase.

We sat in Madam Puddifoot's amid the hideous pink decorations and giggling cherubs that dashed around the ceiling. Couples (including the twins and the girls) were whispering sweet nothings to each other and needless to say, I was quite uncomfortable.

"I can't take this anymore," I said to myself more than anyone, standing up, throwing on my cloak, and making a dash for the door. I collided with a wall of steel, at least that's what it felt like, and promptly fell onto my bottom.

"Are you okay Katie?" A voice asked, poorly disguising a laugh.

I stood up and brushed myself off. "I'm fine," I said, trying to hold onto my last remaining strand of dignity. I looked up at the person's face (what can I say, I'm 5'4 and they had to be at least 6'2) and my entire body froze.

"No greeting?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Ol-Oliver, it's nice to see you," I said, almost choking on my words.

"It's nice to see you, too. I think we need to talk, Katie," he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

"Alright then," I said, taking off my coat and throwing it into the nearest booth. We slid into our seats, and Oliver shooed away the waitress.

"How are you Kates?" Kates. No one had called me that in months.

"I'm...well, I'm alright I suppose. And you?"

"Not that good."

"And why is that?" I asked, truly concerned.

"Well, according to a letter I received two days ago, I am an inconsiderable arse who deserves to be hit by a hundred bludgers." The twins.

"Oh...and why is that?" I asked, brushing imaginary lint off of my red sweater.

"Well you see, I got this invitation to Puddlemere United, and it went to my head. I completely forgot about a certain girl's feelings, and now she breaks down crying in the Great Hall, and she also harasses first years. I made a hideous mistake and I'm not sure how to fix it."

I looked up to finally make eye contact with him. His eyes were pleading with some unspoken question, and all the hatred I had for what he had done to me flew out of my head.

"Do I know this girl?" I asked, playing along.

"Yeah, you do. She's amazing. She's a short, blonde, insane, loveable girl, and I want her back. Do you think she'd take me?"

"How could she not?" I asked, scooting until I was sitting right by him.

Oliver didn't respond to my question, instead, he leaned down and kissed me on my lips. I was in heaven; I had missed everything about him, his accent, his lips, and even his smell. We broke apart several minutes later, gasping for air.


"Yes, Oliver?"

"Promise me you'll stop yelling at first years?"

I laughed. "I promise."

This is my first story so all reviews are appreciated. If you liked or hated it, I'd like to know. Thanks for reading.