Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Up, Up, and Away

Imagine this—a figure is walking across the snow, heading for the Quidditch pitch. A broom is dangling from her right hand, her left gently cradling a bright red Quaffle. A hastily done brown braid swings as she walks, poking out from the blue knit cap she's wearing. Instead of Gryffindor robes, she has a pair of light denim jeans and a thick brown sweater on, the distinguishable chocolatey color accenting her wide brown eyes. Her red and gold scarf is the only sign that she's a student at Hogwarts, although the broom and Quaffle are dead giveaways that she's a witch.

She trudges through the snow relentlessly; she hasn't been on her broom for quite awhile, not since the Quidditch Final. A smile appears on her face at just the thought of that game—Draco Malfoy's incredulous expression, Alicia's wide, ecstatic smile, but the memory that sticks out the most in her mind is the one she's trying to forget.

Oliver Wood's indescribable grin, his fist punching the air, beautiful blue eyes twinkling at all of them—her and Harry especially so. Giving Harry that look of utter joy and appreciation is understandable (he's the one that won the game for them, after all) but what had she done?

In the back of her mind, a theory is forming: Maybe he just likes you. Maybe he wants to spend more time with you. Maybe—

She stops the thought mid-sentence—she knows what is about to happen. Her mind wants to believe that Oliver is as taken by her as she is by him, but it simply isn't true. After all, who can blame him? He's a seventh-year, seventeen, about to graduate, while she's a measly little thirteen-year-old that's heads over heels in love with him.

Sighing, she pushes thoughts of Oliver Wood out of her head and continues the long walk to the empty, inviting Quidditch pitch.

Everything is peaceful, until all of a sudden—

"Hey, Katie!"

His voice rings out across the otherwise deserted field of fresh, white snow. Her entire body freezes, and it's not from the cold.

He seems to think so, though. Bounding up to her, he takes a small thermos out of his rucksack. "Hot chocolate," he says, nodding to it as he holds it out to her. "Cold, isn't it?"

The heat of the hot chocolate inside the thermos seems to warm her from the inside out; it travels from her palm, to her heart, to her throat, to her mind, and finally, to her lips.

"Yes," she says, finally looking up at him as she takes it from him and takes a sip. It's delicious—rich, creamy, chocolatey, and warm, with just a hint of marshmallow.

"Where did you get this?" Katie exclaims, when she finally forces herself to hand it back to him.

He grins at her, unknowingly making her heart falter slightly. "I got it from the kitchens. We seventh-years have to break rules every now and then, right?"

Now it's her turn to smile. "You don't break the rules nearly as much as Fred and George, and they're only in their fifth year."

Thinking about the twins only adds to her happiness—they're not only her fellow Gryffindors, not to mention Quidditch team mates, but she counts the two as friends. Pranks, joking, and teasing are a given when with them, but it's worth it, because they're also two super loyal, fun friends.

He chuckles, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Well, Fred and George are a special case." Placing the thermos back into his sack, he looks at her expectantly. "Well, what were you doing before I bothered you?"

"You're no bother," is what immediately comes out of her mouth. Her cheeks tinge bright pink, but Oliver is still smiling at her, so she keeps going.

"Er, actually, I was going to fly." Glancing down at her broom, she smiles softly. "Was that not obvious by my broom, or the big Quaffle?"

He blushes a bit at this. "I was paying more attention to your face," he says, and her breath catches as he takes a step closer.

"Come on," he says quietly, "I'll fly with you."

They do; at first just going, up, up, and away, and later twirling and doing tricks and just soaring, because it is truly the best thing in the world, to fly.

It's even better when you're with the love of your life, she thinks, and is glad that her braid came out long ago, so that her lengthy, thick, brown hair shields the blush on her face from view.

After hours, they come down, breathing hard and walking slowly. She places their brooms and the Quaffle in the shed; there's no point in taking them back to the castle when the weather clearly won't allow them to come out again anytime soon.

On the way back, she stops by a tree to rest. She leans back against the rough bark and closes her eyes, relaxing after such a long workout.

Whenever she opens her eyes again, he's standing right in front of her, so close she can see all of the specks of green in his dark blue eyes.

Her eyes widening, she takes an immediate step back—or tries to. There's nowhere to go, and she feels her heart immediately pick up speed as she realizes that she's trapped.

"Katie," he says.

"Yes," she breaths out.

"I—I like you."

Her eyes get even bigger, but she doesn't have time to think because all of a sudden he's kissing her.

Her hands are wrapped around his neck without her even knowing how they got there; his hands stroke her hair while still managing to keep her backed up against the tree. His lips are soft and sweet, snow melting beneath them from the warmth they're creating by touching one another.

Whenever he pulls away, she stands there, gasping. He does, too, until he seems to catch his breath, and then he takes her hand.

"I really like you, Katie," he says as they walk up to Hogwarts hand-in-hand, and this time, she has time to process the gigantic, goofy grin that appears on her face.

Written for Day 23 on isn't-she-lovelyy's Fragrance Prompts Challenge (prompts were up, up, and away, sweet snow, scarf, and first kiss).

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