Angelina frowned and watched as Oliver went into the changing rooms, “That boy really needs a hobby, something other than Quidditch to occupy him.”
And that was when an idea hit the twins. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Fred turned to George.
“My fine fellow, I do believe I am.”

"So, let me get this straight; I’m meant to sell Oliver Wood Quidditch tips just so he can date Penelope Clearwater!"

He finally had some time to be alone and make a start on the homework he had already noticed piling up. It wasn’t his fault that at every opportune moment to do his work something cropped up, usually Quidditch or some crazy girl wanting him to sign all of her bras. And now he had the extra task of ‘wooing’ Penelope Clearwater.

“What did you do?” Fred said, stuffing some roast potatoes in his mouth. The twins had cornered Oliver that evening after hearing plenty of rumours about what had happened in the Trophy Room, one rather alarming one involving a lot of Butterbeer and a raucous game of Twister.

“Anyway,” Audrey turned back to Penelope, “you look great, so don’t be so nervous.” Penelope tried to smile but she was far too nervous; her heart was thudding right in her ears and her stomach kept twisting and untwisting.
“Go get ‘im, tiger!”

Did she want to see Oliver Wood again?
Without a doubt.
And that is how she ended up standing outside the Hufflepuff common room door, dressed in what Audrey called her ‘partay clothes’ and holding a bottle of Butterbeer disguised as perfume.

“You know very well, Ollie, that I am utterly repulsed by the sight of you,” she tried to sound like her usual bossy self, but the smile he was giving her made her weak, and she could hardly keep the happiness out of her voice. “I would much rather snog a Flobberworm than spend another afternoon in your company.”

She thought he had actually liked her; the first boy to actually like her was Oliver Wood. She couldn't believe her luck. And, she thought sourly, I shouldn't have believed it either.

"She's just using Percy to make him jealous."
"You know," George grinned, staring off into space, "I seem to like Penelope more and more every day."

The office door swung open. Oliver looked up, frozen in the process of rifling through Filch's drawers and stuffing a Fanged Frizbee down the back of his trousers.

"Hi." Penelope said.