Pre-Game

"Oh Merlin," she muttered under her breath, jamming her feet into her boots. She was late. Again. Oliver was going to murder her. No doubt about it. They were going to find her body chopped up into little pieces, buried under the Quidditch pitch.

She attempted to stand up, but managed to step on her robes as she hurriedly put them on, lost her balance, and fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"Merlin!" she repeated, wincing as she felt a twinge in her arm. Her throwing arm, too.

Grabbing her broomstick, not even bothering to look at the mirror to see what a fright her hair was, she clumped down the marble stairs. As she reached the common room, she was out of breath.

"You're late!" she heard someone shout good-naturedly as she tore through the room towards the portrait-hole.

"Thanks!" she replied with a wave of her hand, not even looking at the speaker. She climbed out and rushed towards the Great Hall. Hopefully the team was still there, eating their breakfasts.

"Yes!" She was in luck. They were still sitting there, all in their scarlet robes. Harry was pushing porridge around in his bowl. He looked up to see her sit down and smiled.

"Oliver's going to kill you," he whispered conspiratorially to her.

"I know," she grimaced as she lunged for a piece of toast.

Before she had a chance to swallow the huge bite she had taken, she felt a hand grip her shoulder. "Angelina, where the hell have you been?"

She looked up at Oliver, who managed to look menacing despite his rather boyish looks. She swallowed her food and attempted to grin.

She failed.

"Look, Ol, I'm sorry, I just overslept a bit, that's all."

"That's all? That's all?" he repeated incredulously. "Here I am, worried sick out of my mind, because it's the last game of the season, the FINALS, and I'm missing two of my players, and I have no clue where they are and neither does the rest of this team and we're about to head out to the locker room..." he trailed off as he took a deep breath, his face red from the lack of oxygen.

"Oliver, listen, it's okay, and I'm here. Don't worry," she said soothingly, although she knew it wouldn't help.

"Oh don't worry, 'Don't worry,' she says," he repeated, throwing his hands up in the air. "Don't worry just because it's the finals and the only chance we have at winning the cup..." She turned back to her toast as he paced behind her, muttering to himself. Harry winked at her above his porridge.

"See? I'm the Girl-Who-Lived," she said to him in a low voice, jokingly. She grabbed an apple from the plate of fruit sitting in front of her. She started to take a bite and then stopped. Oliver had said two players. Two? Who else was missing?

She looked down the table. Harry was in front of her still. Oliver was continually pacing behind her, still muttering to himself and gesticulating wildly. Trailing him was Katie, trying in vain to calm him down. Alicia was sitting next to her, laughing at George, who had charmed a banana to attack an orange.

"Oh no," she whispered, feeling the blood drain from her face. "Where's Fred at?" she asked George quietly.

"Dunno," he answered, wiping fruit shrapnel from his face. He grinned up at her. "Said he had 'important things to do' last night. Never came back."

She stood up quickly from the table, disrupting a goblet of pumpkin juice over Alicia. "I'll be right back," she yelled behind her shoulder. As she turned out of the Great Hall, she could see Oliver turning a bright shade of cherry as Katie tried to restrain him.

"Bugger, bugger, bugger!" she repeated to herself as she stormed back up to the Gryffindor dormitory. Gasping out "Fortuna Major" to the Fat Lady, she threw herself into the common room, ignoring the hellos from the others.

She took the stairs three at a time, stopping at the room second-highest from the top. Throwing the door open, she headed towards the bed furthest away.

"Miss me already?" murmured Fred sleepily from her bed. He turned over, his red hair tousled and sleep still in his eyes.

"Oliver's going to kill you," she warned.

"What?" he said, bolting upright. "Oh, shit! It's nine?"

"You could sleep through a hurricane," she said as she threw him his robes and boots. He hurriedly got dressed.

They slid down the newly-formed slide and flew out of the portrait-hole, ignoring the catcalls.

"You should really think about going to your own bed sometimes," she muttered as they entered the Great Hall.

He stopped and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "You should really think about investing in an alarm clock."

She blushed as they joined the rest of the team.

"Well then," said Fred brightly, ignoring the fact that Oliver was now purple in the face. "What's the holdup? Don't we have a Quidditch match to get to?"