The Keeper To Her Heart
a KB/OW story
by Quafflepunchers

xx

Chapter One: Exchanging UNpleasantries

Katie Bell was staring in a very bored manner out of the window in Saint Mungo's.

The artificial window, mind you.

Everything in Saint Mungo's was artificial. The food. The smiles of the Healers. Even the sunlight streaming through the windows was fake.

All Katie really wanted was to get back to Hogwarts and play some Quidditch.

The scouts for the Holyhead Harpies had come to Gryffindor's last game– the one before the maniacal necklace had attempted to kill her– and told her they were interested.

The Holyhead Harpies. Interested in her.

But, Katie couldn't exactly be chosen to be on the team, even if it was just the Reserve Team, if she wasn't even playing.

So that led to a very bored, very stressed Katie, counting down the days until she finally got out.

Only nine more days to go.

The Holyhead Harpies scout had sent her an owl a few days ago, saying she'd come and visit while Katie was in St. Mungo's, to "discuss her future."

Only she hadn't come, and Katie was exceptionally stressed out. Really, where were these people?

One of the Healers poked her head in. "Miss Bell?"

"Yeah?" Katie said tiredly.

"You have a visitor," the Healer said, looking unusually excited, considering she usually spoke tonelessly and shuffled her feet.

"Really now," Katie said, feigning surprise. She was always getting visitors. They were just the same, usual people. Her dad, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and if she was lucky, a sporadic visit from Fred and George Weasley.

Rarely was Katie Bell ever lucky.

"Yes, and he insists I let him in 'this moment,'" the Healer quoted.

So it was her father? She loved her Pops and all, but there was a time when a girl simply didn't want to see her father. But, Katie couldn't exactly turn him away.

"Oh, alright, let him in," Katie sighed dramatically, falling backwards onto her pillows.

"Always a drama queen," she could practically hear Fred chiding.

"I'll let him in, Miss," the Healer said, before shutting the door.

About a minute later, the door practically slammed open as Oliver Wood stalked in, holding nearly-dead roses and looking beyond pissed off. His eyebrows were slanted downward angrily and his knuckles were white around the stem of the roses. In fact, he looked just like he used to after Katie made a stupid mistake in Quidditch.

Well, at least that explained the Healer's excitement. He was Oliver Wood, after all, famous Puddlemere United Keeper and at the top of Witch Weekly's Hot Bachelors list.

"Hello," Katie said cheerfully, surprised and secretly elated to see her Quidditch-captain-turned-famous-stud-muffin.

"Katie Bell, are you a complete idiot?"

Did he really call her an idiot? Talk about a greeting. Katie simply glared in return.

"Have you gone completely barmy?"

She crossed her arms. Yes, she was attacked by a crazy necklace, but that didn't make her the crazy one.

"I mean, really!" Oliver cried, throwing his arms up into the air in a rather ridiculous manner. "Have you not grown at all since I left?"

Katie looked down at her breasts. Why, yes, she had, thank-you very much.

"You could have croaked, Katie!"

This was getting old. She'd gotten the "Oh, Katie, you were so atrociously close to death!" speech a million times. From her father, from Leanne, from Alicia, who had been sobbing a river the size of the Thames, and from Angelina, who, unlike Alicia, wanted to beat her up for almost dying.

"Really, Katie! Were you caned or something? I always knew you were crazy but I never thought–"

"I was not drunk, Oliver!" Katie interjected angrily. "And besides, if I recall correctly, it's you who was always that thick one!"

"Glad to see you're not a mute," Oliver muttered, deciding to ignore the insult because he probably knew it was true.

Katie had always been the sensible one. Sort of.

"Sarcasm was always your best virtue, captain," Katie said sweetly.

Oliver shrugged.

"And you say I haven't changed," Katie huffed, sinking back down into her pillows.

"You haven't."

"Yeah, you pointed that out before, didn't you?"

They glared at each other in awkward silence, Oliver standing uncomfortably at the foot of her bed and Katie resting stiffly against the backboard. They were like that for a good three minutes, until Oliver noticed Katie's eyes wander to the flowers.

"Oh, right," He said, sticking the flowers out. They were almost completely petalless, thanks to all of Oliver's angry flailing. They were even more pathetic and depressing looking than before.

Oh, how she hoped that wasn't a sign of things to come.

"Er, thank you," Katie said, placing the flowers in a nearby vase.

"So, how have you been?" he asked.

Katie raised any eyebrow. "Well, Wood, I'm doing bloody brilliant. After all, there's nothing like being attacked by a maniacal necklace whose sole purpose is to fuck my life over."

"Watch your language!" Oliver snapped.

Said the boy who was known for attacking Marcus Flint and throwing a barrage of swears, insults, and rocks in his direction whenever they played Slytherin.

"Oliver! I've heard you say worse things on the Quidditch pitch–"

"Doesn't matter," he said.

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm seventeen, Oliver, and I can swear all I want," Katie said, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not in my presence, you can't."

"You old cocker," Katie said affectionately, with a smile. There he was, going and being his overprotective Oliver-self.

Oliver let that one slide. "When do you get back to Hogwarts?"

"Nine days," Katie replied reflexively.

"Still playing Quidditch?"

"Of course!"

"That would explain the Holyhead Harpies scout outside," Oliver said thoughtfully.

"Wait, the scout's outside?" Katie cried, sitting forward.

"Yeah, she is," Oliver said sourly. "With that Scarlett Dice girl. Nasty one, she is."

Katie laughed. Scarlett Dice did have a reputation for ramming into people and, if there was a particular Keeper she didn't like, she'd hurl the ball at his head instead of the hoop, and when the Keeper ducked, she'd score. Really, the girl was a genius.

"I can't believe it!" Katie said excitedly.

"I guess they want you for next season?" Oliver queried.

"Yeah!" Katie said pridefully. "They want me to play for them. Reserved team, of course, but within a year I should be–"

Oliver cut her off. "Don't do it, Katie."

"Sorry, what?"

"Don't play professional Quidditch," he said.

"Cut the crap," Katie laughed, punching him affectionately on the arm.

"I'm serious, Katie," Oliver said. "You're not... cut out for it."

Katie's eyes widened and her nostrils flared.

Had Oliver Wood, the captain who always pushed her to her limits, who told her that, yes, she was having an off day, but she'd still kick some Slytherin arse anyway, instructed her to give up playing Quidditch because apparently she wasn't "cut out" for it? Or had the world simply flipped upside down?

"Oliver, have you gone mad?"

"No, I haven't," Oliver said calmly. "I just don't think you should do it. You could get hurt."

"Oh, honestly!" Katie cried. "You're the one who's got this year's record for most Bludgers to the stomach!"

"Yeah, but–"

"But nothing, Wood!" Katie shrieked. "I'll play professional Quidditch if I want to!"

Oliver shook his head. "I should leave. The scout will be wanting to talk to you."

Katie's mouth dropped open, but before she could say anything, he mumbled,

"It was nice seeing you again."

Then, he opened the door and left. All Katie could do was stare at his back, and then at the door. Honestly, that had to be the oddest thing Oliver Wood had ever said to her. After all, three years! Three years since Katie had last heard from him, and then he barged into her room at St. Mungo's, yelled at her, called her a drunken, crazy idiot, and then told her not to pursue the only thing she'd ever known she actually wanted.

Sighing, Katie glared at the flowers, as if they had to answers to her Woodissues– that was what she called them back at Hogwarts, when Oliver was always on her case about one thing or another. And suddenly, it looked like he was on her case. Again.

And, of all things, about Quidditch!

Katie was just settling herself into her pillows when there was another knock on the door, and the Healer poked her head through the door.

"You have visitors, Miss Bell," she recited.

"If it's Oliver, you can tell him to go away," Katie huffed.

"Oh, no, Miss, unfortunately, Mr. Wood left about five minutes ago," the Healer said. "This woman says her name's Belinda Smith, from the Holyhead Harpies?"

Katie bolted up. In her anger at Oliver, she completely forgot about the scout and Scarlett Dice waiting for her outside.

"Oh, let them in!" Katie cried, attempting to be excited. But Oliver's words kept ringing in her ears.

Not cut out for it.

Seriously, since when was Oliver Wood in her head? She was cut out for professional Quidditch and she knew it. The git was probably just jealous that another Gryffindor could possibly be playing professionally.

Yeah, that was it. He was jealous. Right.

Ha. Why would Oliver Wood, star Keeper for Puddlemere United, be jealous of her, Katie Bell, when she was cooped up in St. Mungo's and possibly not even playing for the Harpies?

Katie wasn't given a lot of time to think, however, because the door swung open and Belinda Smith marched in, looking very self-important and severely Botox-ified. Honestly, when a witch had to resort to Botox, it's obvious they're lacking in any magical ability whatsoever.

"Katie, dear!" Belinda cried, "how good it is to see you!"

"Er, you too, Miss Smith," Katie said awkwardly.

"And I'm sure you know Scarlett, here," Belinda said, plastering on a fake smile. What was with St. Mungo's and fake things? Katie was about vomit.

Scarlett Dice stepped into the room, looking confused and annoyed. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want to be in some prospective's room at St. Mungo's, and Katie couldn't exactly blame her.

"So, Katie," Belinda said, taking a seat on her bed and crossing her legs in an annoyingly prim way that Katie had never managed to master. "I suppose you know why we're here. We're here to discuss your future."

Katie nodded solemnly. She had figured that much.

"As I'm sure you figured out, darling," Belinda said, "I'm a scout for the Holyhead Harpies, and my sole purpose, dear, is to find excellent players to help lead the Harpies to victory. And I think you have 'it.'"

Yes, Katie had figured that much out.

Scarlett let out a sigh and examined the photographs on Katie's side table.

"You were friends with Oliver bloody Wood?" Scarlett asked, referring to the picture of the Gryffindor Quidditch team when they won the cup during Katie's fourth year.

"Sort of," Katie said, shrugging. "He was my old Quidditch captain."

By sort of, she meant not anymore.

"He's bloody brilliant," Scarlett said. "If he was your captain, you must be as bloody fantastic as Belinda pitched you to be."

Katie flushed. Sort of ironic that Oliver wanted her to give up professional Quidditch, and yet Scarlett Dice thought that he was the reason Katie was so amazing.

"Well, we're not here to discuss Oliver Wood," Belinda said. "Now, what we need to discuss is–"

"Bloody hell, Belinda!" Scarlett cried. "Look, you seem bloody nice and all, Kathleen–"

"Katie."

"Right. Sorry, never been good with names," Scarlett said. "Anyway, as much as I enjoy exchanging pleasantries and what not, I've got a bloody practice to get to, so basically, the Harpies are bloody interested in you, Katie. We want you on our Reserve Team, but if you're as bloody amazing as Belinda says, you should be playing on the actual team within the year."

"Scarlett!" Belinda cries. "Now, that's not all there is to it..."

"The girl's in St. bloody Mungo's, Belinda," Scarlett snapped. "Don't discuss all the technical shit with her, please."

Belinda glowered. "Fine, then. There's only one thing, Katie. We need to see your last game– and by 'we,' I mean a good deal of the Harpies staff, and team members. If you're not ready by then, I'm afraid... I'm afraid we'll have to pass you up."

Katie paled. "Er, sorry, what?"

Belinda nodded. "But you seem to be making a quick recovery, so it shouldn't be a problem, should it–?" Belinda yanked a miniature harpy out of her purse, which began to make an annoying squawking sound. Belinda sighed, annoyed. "Hold on, dear, I seem to have something to attend to." She left, talking to the strange, miniature harpy.

"I hate those bloody things," Scarlett said dully. "Always interrupting something or another. Anyway, I'm sorry about her."

Katie raised her eyebrows. "Sorry about who?"

"Belinda," Scarlett said, rolling her eyes. "She's been a mess lately. Her jobs on the line, y'see. The last few girls she's found for the Harpies have been bloody awful. She found me a few years ago, but other than that, she hasn't been able to find anyone halfway decent. Basically," Scarlett sighed, "I'm the only reason she's still here. And if you're not good enough..." Scarlett drew a line across her neck and made a choking sound. "Good bye, Belinda Smith."

But no pressure or anything.

Scarlett threw herself down on Katie's bed and blew her messy hair out of her face. "So, tell me about you. Because, no bloody offense or anything, I'm not letting Belinda scoop up another pompous prick like Melody Harpstrings. Yuck."

"She's not even any good," Katie mumbled. "Oh, sorry!"

"Don't apologize," Scarlett said with a wave of her hand. "She's bloody awful. That's who they're hoping to find a replacement for. And then it's back to the bench for Melody." Scarlett's eyes got a glint. "Or, better yet, they'll fire her and the Wasps will hire her, and then we'll kick their arses!"

"I hate the Wasps," Katie said, frowning. "I've always been a Harpies fan," she added.

"Almost every girl was a Harpies fan at some point," Scarlett mused. "To, you know, prove that women can play bloody Quidditch as well as men."

"Sounds like Oliver Wood," Katie muttered, thinking of how he'd told her she wasn't cut out for the business. It dawned on her that maybe he thought she wasn't cut out for professional Quidditch because she was a woman. Katie was positively fuming. If she made the team, she was going to hurl the Quaffle as hard as she possibly could at Oliver's pompous head and hope it broke his nose.

"So that was Oliver walking out of here?" Scarlett asked.

"Erm, yes."

Scarlett shook her head, amused. "He always was a funny character. Met him once. Couldn't shut up about Quidditch."

"That definitely sounds like him," Katie said thoughtfully.

"So, how do you know him?" Scarlett asked. "Oh, arse shit, I forgot. He was your Quidditch captain. Sorry, I'm not very good at remembering things."

"Really? But all the plays..."

"Are the only things I can remember," Scarlett said, laughing. "Names, dates, places, spells, potions... I've got to hear them a hundred times before I can get it into my bloody mind."

"That blows," Katie said, frowning. She had always been able to remember things easily and with detail– except, when she was mad, in which case, she forgot everything.

This caused her to forget a lot of things concerning Oliver Wood, considering her frequent bouts of anger towards her former captain.

"Yeah, well," Scarlett said, shrugging. "You get used to it."

Outside, they could hear Belinda's conversation winding down. "Well, she should be done soon. But, if you're good enough, I'm definitely going to back you. You should come to a practice, you know. That would be bloody fantastic..."

Belinda marched in. "Hello, ladies. I'm glad to see you're getting along. But, Scarlett, we must be going! You have a practice to get to!"

Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Bye, Katie."

"Bye," Katie called to both of them as they left. Scarlett mouthed "I'll owl you," and Katie just nodded, grinning happily.

A practice with the Holyhead Harpies? Like, holy mother of fuck.

And Oliver said she wasn't cut out for pro-Quidditch. She was as good as hired. Until she remembered the tiny little detail, about all of the staff and scouts and team members watching the game, and Katie felt the need to puke.

Maybe she wasn't so cut out for this after all.

xx

A/n: Alright, tell me what you think (: And yes, Scarlett says "bloody" a lot on purpose. So far, I like this myself... but review and tell me what you think. Because, like holy mother of fuck, I like reviews. Figure that!

Next Time:

"So I'm guessing they liked you," Oliver said, appearing out of nowhere behind Katie. Funny how his appearance managed to dampen her mood.

"Yes, they did."

"Don't do it," Oliver pleaded.

"Don't do what, exactly?" Scarlett Dice asked, coming up next to the two of them.