Love Is

Love Is

a Katie/Oliver one shot

by Quafflepunchers


Katie Bell glowered down the Quidditch pitch. The rain was coming down in buckets, freezing her down to her bones. She grumbled as she soared down the pitch, before chucking the ball recklessly at her captain's face.

"Oi!" Oliver Wood cried, catching the ball with his annoyingly fast reflexes.

Katie groaned. She was going to get beaten up for that, and she knew it.

"What?" she asked innocently, coming to a halt in front of the three goal posts.

"You know what," he snapped angrily. "You tried to hit me intentionally."

"Can you blame her?" Fred Weasley asked, soaring up next to her and grinning wickedly. His hair was matted to his freckly face, and despite his grin, he looked tired and put out.

"I can blame her if I want to," Oliver muttered like a five year old, crossing his arms.

"Not really, Woody dearest," George said, flying up next to them. "You, Lord Woodiness, are forcing us to practice in a December rain, while everyone else, even those coldhearted Slytherin bastards, get to sit by the fire playing Exploding Snap."

"If they're allowed to have fires in their common room," Fred added.

Oliver glared down at them all. "Which is exactly why they're going to lose to us!" he declared. "If they were practicing half as hard as we were—"

Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet flew over, having decided it was their turn to join the argument and gang up on their captain. Katie wondered briefly where Harry Potter was, but figured he was up in the clouds trying to get struck by lightning. It wouldn't surprise her if he was.

"Oliver," Angelina said. "This isn't a matter of dedication. This is a matter of us not catching the flu—"

"Nonsense," Oliver said stiffly. "You're not going to catch the flu from a little rain."

Alicia rolled her eyes. "Oliver, it's not just a 'little rain.' It's ankle deep down at the pitch and these Quidditch shoes are new…"

"Which is why you have a broom," Oliver said tonelessly. "So you don't have to touch the ground."

Alicia glared at him haughtily. "Fine, then, Wood. See what happens when your team can't make it to the next match because they've all died of influenza. I'd very much like to see you play all four positions."

"Ah, but you won't be able to," interjected Fred. "Because you'll have died."

"Right," Alicia said, nodding vigorously. "So you won't even have any support."

"Oh, he'll have support," George said. "From the Slytherins, who will be happy with him for murdering his team."

"Georgie, Georgie," Fred said condescendingly. "The Slytherins will hate him regardless, after he Wingardium Leviosa-d their precious Marky Flinty Poo into a toilet and refused to let him out for a week."

"Ah," George said, as if Fred had just enlightened him on a matter of much importance. "Then, never mind. You won't have a supporter in the crowd!"

"What about the Gryffindors?" Angelina asked suddenly, popping randomly into the conversation.

"Oh," said Alicia. "That's easy. They'll all hate him for causing our deaths."

The twins nodded.

"So really," said George. "It's in your best interest to let us go. Or else Katie might pummel you with a ball. Again."

"She did not pummel me," Oliver scoffed, as if the mere suggestion of Katie pummeling him was ludicrous.

"You're not saying I can't pummel you, are you?" Katie asked waspishly.

"Glad to see you're still with us, Bell," Oliver grumbled.

"Soon," Angelina chided, "she won't be."

Oliver widened his eyes worriedly. "What do you mean?"

Angelina rolled her eyes. "Because she's going to die from the rain?"


"Stupid Woody," Fred trilled.

Oliver, deciding he'd had enough, said, "Why don't we ask Harry what he thinks?"

Everyone raised their eyebrows. Katie shot him a look, as if to say, Sod off you bugger, Harry's too nice to disagree with his captain.

Oliver simply grinned at her. "OI! POTTER!"

Out of nowhere, on his brand-spanking new Firebolt (that Katie wanted to marry), Harry flew down, looking perturbed.

"Look," he said. "I'm sorry I can't find the Snitch, but it's not like—"

"Goodness, Harry," Alicia said. "He's not going to yell at you for not catching the Snitch. Look at these conditions! No, actually, he wanted you to give your opinion on something."

Harry's face paled. Usually, when Harry was asked on his opinion, it meant that the team disagreed wit Oliver, and therefore, Harry had to choose a side. He usually chose Oliver, because he liked to help out the minorities. At least, that was Katie's theory.

"Do you think," asked Oliver, "that just because there's a teeny, tiny bit of rain, that we should stop playing?"

"Oliver!" Katie cried. "That's so biased!"

"Yeah!" Alicia cried. "Of course he's going to agree with you, when you put it like that!"

Oliver smirked. "Let the boy answer the question."

Harry looked back and forth, from his teammates to his captain. Katie, sadly, secretly hoped he would tell them it was okay to keep practicing. After all, practices were the only way she could spend time with Oliver… even if he was a major pain in the arse with whom she spent most of her time arguing with instead of having actual conversations.

At least she wasn't one of those creepy girls who were madly in love with people they didn't even know… right?


"Harry," Fred goaded. "Just answer the question."

"Yes, Harry, do answer the question," said Oliver, smiling as if he had already won.

"I think…" Harry searched for words. "That… that it is raining a bit hard…"

"Understatement of the year," Angelina coughed.

"…but," Harry continued with a glare towards her, "that only people who want to stay should have to…"

"HURRAH!" Fred cheered. "Look's like Woody here will be practicing all on his lonesome…"

"I wasn't finished!" Harry snapped.

"Oh," Fred said, frowning. "Carry on, then."

"Anyway," Harry said. "That's it."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "I thought you said you weren't done."

"Only because you interrupted me."

"Right," George said. "Well, have fun, Oliver!"

Everyone began to fly down to the pitch, when Katie noticed that she wasn't really going anywhere.

"Wood," she groaned, ignoring the tingles that ran through her body, deciding to focus on the angry, freezing part. "I'm cold. I'm tired. And I would really, really, appreciate it if you would let go of my broom."

"No can do, Bell," he said, smirking.

"Wood," Katie complained. "I just got my Nimbus 2001… I'd appreciate if you wouldn't ruin it on my first year with it."

"I'm not letting you get away that easily," he said. "You're going to pay for chucking the Quaffle at me like that."

Shit, Katie thought, suddenly regretting ever throwing the Quaffle at him. Stupid Quaffle. Stupid Quidditch. Stupid sexy Oliver Wood.

"You know," Katie said, "I was only trying to play the game. It consists of throwing the Quaffle towards the goal—"

"And actually aiming for the goal instead of the Keeper's head," Oliver finished.

Alright, so he had her on that one.

"Maybe I just have bad aim," Katie offered.

"No," Oliver said. "I don't think that's it."

"Oh," Katie mumbled. Sighing, she figured she might as well let him do what he wanted, so that she could get inside and treat herself to a nice, piping hot mug of hot cocoa. "Well, Oliver, what is it that you want me to do?"

Oliver blanched. "Er… I haven't exactly thought of your punishment yet."

"It's punishment enough to be alone in the rain with you," Katie grumbled. "Since I've had about five minutes of that, can I go now?"

"Merlin, Katie," he muttered. "I didn't know you hated me that much."

Katie's eyes widened. She was surprised. Oliver actually looked hurt. Hurt, at the prospect that she, Katie Bell, might hate him. Except, she didn't hate him. Actually, it was quite the opposite. She sort of… no, she didn't really want to think about it in the rain.

"Of course I don't hate you that much, Oliver," Katie said, grinning. "I'm madly in love with you, can't you tell?"

At least she wasn't lying.

Oliver glared at her. "Your sarcasm isn't appreciated, Katie."

Katie raised an eyebrow at her captain. He really seemed upset. She was extremely confused. She couldn't recall a moment when she'd actually seen Oliver really, truly upset, except for when they lost a game. But considering that had become a rare thing since Harry had joined the team, she hadn't seen him upset in a long time. And there they were. In the rain. Where Katie had basically, alright, sarcastically, confessed to her Quidditch captain that she was madly in love with him, which was, actually, believe it or not, the understatement of the year. Well, the second biggest understatement of the year, if you counted Oliver saying that it was only raining a little, but…

"Oliver?" Katie asked, putting her hand on her dejected captain's back. "Would it make you feel better if I shot on goal? You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Oliver nodded solemnly. Alright, so it had all been a ploy to get her to suggest her own punishment. She should have known that… the thought of Oliver Wood actually being in love with her… it was preposterous…

After a good long half hour of shots on goal, Katie's arm was sore.

"Oliver?" she whined. "Can we stop? Like, now?"

He nodded and flew over to her.

"Katie? Can I ask you something?" he said, meeting her in the middle of the pitch.

"Well, that depends," she said slowly. "About what, exactly?"

"Love," he said simply.

"Oh," Katie mumbled. If he dared ask whether or not she was in love with him, she knee him so hard he would have to wear armor there for the rest of his life.

"What, er, is it, exactly?" he asked, not bothering to see if it was okay to ask.

Katie let out a sigh of relief, which Oliver took to be a sigh of annoyance.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "Never mind."

"What? No, Oliver, it's okay," she said.

He looked away from her and up at the clouds. "Alright, go on then."

Katie glared at him, but he didn't notice.

"So," she said slowly. "You want to know what love is?"

He nodded.

"Well, er," she mumbled. "I've never really…"

"Never really what?" he queried.

"Been in love," she said.

"Ridiculous," Oliver said, trying to push his wet hair out of his eyes so he could get a better look at her.


"Because," he said simply.


"Just answer my question, Bell," he said.

"Fine," she snapped. "I suppose love is… well, it's an illusion, I suppose, to some people. To people who haven't really felt it. But it's also full of wonder. And of course it gives you happiness. I think it's probably the greatest joy anyone can ever feel. Besides flying, of course, Oliver.

"But at the same time, I guess, it's pain. You know, like unrequited love? I don't know. It's also a dream, because we all wish we had it. Or, at least, I know I wish I had it. And it's a way of life. You can't have life without love…it just doesn't make sense, you know?

"And it's a drug, if you will. Once you have it, you're addicted to it. That can be good or bad, I suppose, because if its unreturned, you might be considered a stalker…

"But it's also hope. Hope that, even though things might not be going as planned, at least you still have your loved ones. And it's just a word, literally speaking. It's nothing, and it's everything.

"Is that good enough?" she asked, out of breath.

"Yeah," he said. "So, have you really never been in love, Katie?"

Don't look him in the eye, she said to herself, or he'll know everything.



Oliver frowned at her.

"Why?" she asked.

"No reason," he mumbled.

"Well, have you?" she asked angrily.

He looked at her. "I think so. But I'm not really sure."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oliver, how can you not be sure?"

He shrugged at her. He was so infuriating sometimes. Maybe he was infuriating because it was obvious it wasn't her that he was maybe-in-love with?

"You're impossible," she grumbled. "I'm going inside."

She started her descent, expecting to hear the swish of Oliver's broom behind her, but she didn't hear anything. She turned around and glared at him.

"Oliver," she snapped. "Come down before you catch your death."

"No. The rain helps me contemplate love," he said sarcastically.

Or was it? Katie couldn't really tell.

"Stop being ridiculous!" Katie cried.

She flew back up to him and glared straight into his brown eyes.

"Don't feel like it," he said, looking away.

"Oliver! Why does it matter so much?" she cried, exasperated.

"Because," Oliver said simply. "I've got to figure this out soon."

"Why?" she cried, wincing when the thunder crackled above them.

"Because, I'm graduating this year," he said.

His eyebrows knitted together in concentration, the way they did when he was facing an extremely talented Chaser. Alright, so clearly, he really wanted to figure out this love thing. But, she was slightly perturbed that he had to go and ask her about it, because it somewhat depressed her.

"Alright? So? She'll be graduating with you, Oliver," Katie said, rolling her eyes.

He blinked confusedly at her. "Er, no she won't, Katie."

It was Katie's turn to be confused. "Really? But then… Oliver, who is it that you're possibly, maybe in love with?"

He looked at her, baffled. "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"

Katie shook her head.

"Oh," he said. "Well, I thought it was pretty obvious."

"Not everyone is nearly as perceptive as you, dear captain," Katie said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

Merlin, she was cold. Actually, she was freezing, soaking wet, and stuck with her annoyingly thick Quidditch captain who didn't realize how madly in love she was with him. In other words, not one of the best situations.

"Yes, I've been told," Oliver said.

"That was sarcasm," Katie said dryly. "Maybe you're not as perceptive as you think."

Oliver nodded. They stood there, or more like floated there, awkwardly, avoiding each other's eyes.

"It's raining," Oliver stated suddenly.

"Oh, wow," Katie said sarcastically. "I hadn't noticed."

"Isn't it every girl's dream to be kissed in the rain?" he asked.

Katie nodded slowly. "Yes…"

"So, what are we doing?"


"And not kissing?"

Katie blinked. "Er. Yeah?"

Suddenly, and quite out of nowhere, Oliver surged forward on his broom. He grabbed her face, pulling her lips towards her. And with such force that Katie hadn't known was possible for lips to possess, he kissed her. He kissed her really well.

On a broom.

In the sky.

In the rain.

Scratch what she had said before. Love wasn't any of that other stuff. Love was being kissed on a broom, in the sky, in the middle of a thunder-and-lightning storm, about to catch the flu, by your crazy, stupid, Quidditch obsessed captain.


A/n: Come on, who can get enough of these two? Not me.

It was inspired by this really great picture here.

Well, anyway. Hope you enjoyed, and remember, I like reviews. And shoes. But I don't think you can send me those through the Internet so…review away, and remember, critique would be much appreciated :)


P.S. The Keeper To Her Heart will be updated before the end of next week.

P.P.S. My birthday's in less than a week :)