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learning to fly

You're eleven when your world flips over and upside down and a man with a white beard and kind eyes tells you that you're magic. You go to Hogwarts and you flourish there, making all sorts of new friends and learning all sorts of charms and spells and everything that you never thought was real.

And then you're introduced to a broom that flies, and to everyone's surprise, you're good. You dart through the air, laughing at everyone down below, and when you land, oh so gracefully, you see a tall boy staring at you. "You're good," he says, and you blush slightly, but nod. He smiles a little and tilts his head. "Next year, I want to see you at the try-outs for the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

And next year, you are. You bounce slightly on your feet as you wait for your turn, trying not to let the others (who are soso good) intimidate you. And then your name is called by the tall boy who you now know as Oliver Wood, legendary Gryffindor captain. He gives you an encouraging smile and you feel yourself floating into the air. And then you're flying, shooting Quaffles into the hoops and twisting and turning in the air. You vaguely hear people cheering in the stands but all you can concentrate on is the blood roaring through your veins as you soar through the air and then land, breathing hard. Oliver comes up to you, grinning, and thrusts out his hand. "Welcome to the team, Bell."

And then it's practices at six in the morning that last for hours, and it's tears and pain and sweat and blood, and you've never loved anything so much in your entire life. The team becomes your family and the sport becomes your life support. And you start to snap at people when they make fun of Oliver for being a little too obsessed with Quidditch, because it's understandable and they just don't know.

But then another year passes, and Oliver's still calling you Bell, and suddenly just being friends isn't good enough. You throw yourself into practice, anything to get him to notice you, and it almost works. He starts calling you Katie, and he hugs you when you win, and spends hours going over moves with you. But when you lose, he becomes cloudy and walks away, ignoring your teary eyes, and when he doesn't think you're taking things seriously enough, he snaps at you. Angelina and Alicia give you sympathetic glances and tell you that he's too intense to be boyfriend material, and that maybe you should forget about him. But you can't, so you ignore them and stay out in the Quidditch field with hours most nights, just you and Oliver and the feel of air rushing all around you.

And suddenly it's Oliver's last year and you taste your desperation every time he looks at you and grins, because a year from now, he'll be gone and it's unthinkable. "I'll miss you, Katie," he says one day, only days before he leaves forever, and you want to cry because he'll never miss you like you'll miss him. "But I'm expecting to come back to Hogwarts in a few years and see you lead your own team to victory."

"Captain?" you say, hopes for the future flooding your voice, and he laughs, ruffling your hair.

"Why the hell not?" he says, "I know you'd be great." He grins at you and you lean your head against his shoulder and for a moment, everything's perfect.

And then he's gone and the next year, Quidditch is gone for you too, replaced by the Triwizard Tournament. You try not to cry, but you never succeed because you're losing everything that made you happy, and if Oliver was here, he'd be enraged. So you start writing letters to him, and he writes back, telling you about his exciting new life on Puddlemere United and he signs each letter with love.

Over the summer, you go see one of his games and when he spots you in the stands, his face lights up. After their victory, he gives you a huge hug and you laugh, your heart aching with happiness. And you walk around the empty Quidditch field with him for hours, talking and laughing and it's almost like old times. You tell him how awful it was to spend a year without Quidditch, and he agrees so feverishly that you smile because he's still the same Oliver. You tell him that Angelina will be captain next year and that you think Harry will be the following year, and you try to ignore his curious glance. You tell him that you miss him so much, and smile as he squeezes your hand and tells you that he misses you too.

When it's time to go, he gives you a hug and you start to cry. He squints at you, concerned and confused, and the words start to tumble from your mouth. "I'm not good anymore," you say, hiccuping and gasping. "I used to be good, with you. But now I'm just average. You made me good, and now you're gone and I miss you so much and you don't even know." He starts to say something, but you cut him off, tears blurring your vision. "I love you so much and you don't even know."

His face is so shocked that it's almost comical, and you feel like an idiot as he stares at you blankly. "Forget it," you mutter, and muster up a smile as you Apparate away, Oliver's face dissolving before your eyes.

A few weeks later, you're back at school and sitting at the breakfast table, talking animatedly to Angelina. A brown owl flutters to you and you pick up a letter, your name marked on it with familiar scrawl. Angelina's asking what it is, but you barely hear as you shakily open it and read:

Katie,

I'm good at Quidditch, but not so much emotions and relationships and all that. But the thing is, I think you're an amazing girl and maybe the idea of a relationship between you and me isn't as preposterous as I would have thought two years ago. Sorry, that was weak, but you know what I mean. I'll be at Hogwarts a lot more often now- for recruiting purposes, but also because there's this girl who still goes there that I really want to see. Because she's funny and she's good at Quidditch (even when she thinks she's not) and she's just special. I just hope she wants to see me too, and doesn't hold my social ineptitude against me.

Much love,

Oliver

You laugh through your tears as you tear off a new sheet of parchment and scrawl:

Oliver- I think I know this girl, and I think she'd love to see you. She's in to Quidditch-obsessed guys, for some reason.

(She won't hold your social ineptitude against you if you don't hold her hysterics against her.)

Love,

Katie

You tie the letter to the owl's leg and watch as the owl spirals into the air, flying up and away. You smile, beginning to put away your stuff. Suddenly, you have a real desire to play some Quidditch.