It had to be something in the water.

This is the only thing that crosses through Katie Bell's mind as she watches aforementioned water swirl in her mug. Something in the water is the only rational way to explain what's currently running through her mind.

Which, incidentally, happens to be thoughts of kissing Harry James Potter, Boy Who Lived. Or Lives. Or Defeated. Whatever it is at the moment, but she's not really thinking about that sort of thing.

Perhaps it's spiked? She wouldn't put it past Fred, or George, or whichever of the two is currently hovering over the buffet area. Five years as astute businessmen has not quenched their desire to make someone's life miserable. Perhaps this is her turn at the stake, so to speak. Because under normal circumstances, Katie Bell would most certainly not be thinking about Harry Potter, kissy-faces aside.

So she's ignoring the feeling in her gut, and managing to ignore the fact that it's been there for a while, and it only gets worse when he's around. It's something in the water, or in the air, or... just something. He's Harry, little Harry the Seeker who was small and stubby and cute in the same way your stuffed animal is cute. Cuddle it, maybe, but certainly not something you ponder having long petting sessions with.

She blames it long hours at work making her hallucinate, pretending that hallucinations include daydreams, night dreams, afternoon dreams... she's getting off track again, yes she is. Think about different things. Like this beautiful plate they're serving her dinner on. It's lovely and black and shiny. Like Harry's hair.

Oh, bother.

What's a girl to do?

She's been single for a while, which probably complicates the matter. How difficult can this be? She doesn't have time to think about having a man in her life. There's games to go see, paperwork that simply can't be ignored, places to go, people to chat up... and somehow, someway, he manages to worm his way into her day to day activities.

To be fair, she admits, he's generally not in control of such matters, nor is he there most of the time. They see each other at Quidditch matches, and often sit next to one another and reminisce about a time when he barely reached her shoulder and they were just flying, flying. It's nice, really. And then everywhere else- he's Harry Potter, and she knows him. She knows him! One would think that she'd done nothing else in her life besides be in the same House and the same team as the Great Big Shadow that is known as Harry Potter. Did Harry really do that? Is it true he can fly in loops for hours without getting sick? Did he really start a house-elf revolt?

She thinks that the more important question is, don't these people have anything better to do with their time than think about such banal shit?

She sighs. And slowly resigns herself to the fact that she is developing a major thing (won't call it a crush, that'd only be confirming the whole mess) for the boy sitting across the table from her. If she had known that this would happen to her, she'd have told Oliver Wood where to stick it when he broached the topic of Harry Potter becoming their Seeker, and House Cup be damned.

Oh, this is getting rather sticky. Still, she knows what to do. Deny, deny, ignore, distract herself, and continue to deny. She knows how to get over a crush. Yes, she, er, likes him, and there are plenty of reasons why- he's kind, he's handsome, he's a great flyer, he's been there for her since the War ended. The whole 'saving the world, with style to spare' bit is extra baggage she'd rather not have when even day-dreaming about a potential relationship, no matter how unlikely. Dream dates do not include comparing war wounds and getting maudlin over wine and bad memories- she does that enough after having to spend an entire day with Ministry Officials, during her duties as a Recorder for the Ministry.

Still, she thinks it would be nice. She's not such a bad catch.

Oh. Oh dear. He's smiling at her. She drinks her water hastily, and pretends she's dripped some on her shirt, so that the blush consuming her cheeks has a reason for being there. She's going to kill George- or Fred. She should have never even vaguely hinted in a passing comment that she found Harry attractive. That's how this whole setup came about, she just knows it- they're trying to set her up with a boy who has absolutely no interest in her. This will call for some whiskey sours later. And perhaps, just perhaps, a quick knee to the groin for both twins. Damn them both to Hell and back for putting her in this situation. Men.

He's still smiling at her, and she still feels a damned fool, but she takes a chance and smiles back. It feels nice and right, but she's still cautious. They smile at one another until it's plainly ridiculous- they look more like puppets than people, and Katie's face is starting to hurt. So they let their grins fall, and lapse into a strange silence, while the world keeps turning, people keep breathing, and the wind keeps blowing. She finds it rather odd that it doesn't seem to turn for her, right now. The Earth, that is. Maybe it can turn a little faster and fling her into space? Seems like a reasonable enough request, considering the circumstances.

'So,' he says.

'So,' she says.

There's more silence, and it's starting to get really annoying. She's ready to get up and run screaming into the next hallway when he happens to mention next week's match, and all thoughts of screaming and fleeing disappear.

'Bet you a night at the Leaky that Puddlemere wins,' she says, smirking. He raises an eyebrow. It's on.

'But if I win,' he declares, 'then it's lunch at the Three Broomsticks. My treat, but you have to promise to actually stay for an evening. You're always running off to do this and that.'

'Oh,' she says airily, 'you know how it goes when you're trying to keep the Ministry from imploding on itself.'

'Oh?' he asks. 'I gave up on that ages ago.'

'Which is why I have to keep it going,' she answers smoothly. 'Someone has to do the job, and obviously no-one else was up for it.'

'Are you implying,' he says, slowly, 'that I couldn't have done it?'

'Didn't say a thing about that, now did I?'

He grins one of his sharpest grins, and she just smiles right back. Bring it on. She's not going to lose this match.

'We'll just see about that, Katie Bell,' he says smoothly.

'I guess we will, Harry Potter,' she shoots back.

They keep smiling.

Somewhere in the distance, the twins exchange triumphant glances and grins as they slide back little vials into their sleeves. It's their latest invention, something so simple that they're surprised no-one's tried to market it before. Not exactly a love potion- but if two people truly fancy one another, then it'll give them the push in the right direction. Colourless, tasteless, and liquid.

Why, it must be something in the water.