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“I don’t think you should do that,” a voice sounded behind him.
Oliver Wood spun around, “excuse me?”
A bushy-haired third year stepped up to him. Hermione Granger.
“I don’t think you should do that,” she repeated.
His wand was still up, standing in front of the locker of the Slytherin Quidditch team.
It would be so easy to do what he had been about to do. Just a bit of itching powder, courtesy of Fred and George, in the robes of the seeker, and they’d have a safe win.
“I saw you leaving after talking to Fred and George,” Hermione said with the indignation only a fourteen-year-old could muster, “Oliver, you don’t want to win like this, do you?”
“We have to win this, Hermione. We have to,” he stressed.
“Oliver, you never cheated! Never! You will win this! But don’t do this!” She was pleading with him now and he felt quite ashamed.
It would be so very easy to agree with her, walk away, and come back when she was in her dormitory.
But he wouldn’t do that. She was right. He had never cheated, and if he did now it would not feel like he had earned an honest win.
His shoulders sagged and he nodded. Hermione and Oliver walked back to their common room in silence.
It would have been so easy, but it wouldn’t have been right.
When they beat the Slytherins and won the Quidditch Cup, his joy was unparalleled. He was shouting, singing, and having the time of his life when they celebrated in the common room after the game.
When Oliver had spotted Hermione he went over to her, to the absolute confusion of Harry and Ron, and wrapped his arms around her, giddy with happiness.
“Thank you!” He whispered into her ear, “It wouldn’t have been the win it was without you!”
She turned her head to reply but before she could open her mouth Oliver pressed a kiss to her cheek, rendering Hermione speechless and blushing before he wandered off to his teammates again.
Hermione stood there, gaping like a goldfish, and staring after him.
They saw each other again sooner than they had thought.
Oliver had not expected to see Hermione at the World Cup, mostly because she did not care all too much about Quidditch, but she seemed to have fun. When she had gone to fetch water with Harry and Ron Oliver had stumbled upon them and had dragged them off to meet his parents, all the while chatting with Hermione about his new employment with Puddlemore United and she beamed at him.
After the celebration of the Quidditch cup before the break, Oliver and Hermione hadn’t talked all that much, but he did make a point of saying goodbye to her before the train departed. He wasn’t sure why, but they both stood before each other, blushing and somewhat embarrassed, but with a smile.
It was much the same now, Harry and Ron did not seem to notice Hermione and Oliver grinning at each other.
They wanted to meet the next day, unfortunately, the attack on the World Cup made this impossible.
They wrote owls to each other throughout the year though, starting with a card Oliver had sent Hermione for her birthday and only coming to an end when Hermione went on the run with Harry and Ron.
They had met throughout the summers, but that was not possible either before Hermione disappeared. Oliver had not been invited to the wedding of Bill and Fleur – which was fine by him – but this meant he got to know what had happened through acquaintances who were there.
Worry was his constant companion for the following months.
When he heard there’d be a fight at Hogwarts it was no question for Oliver where he’d be.
“I don’t think you should do that,” a voice sounded from behind her.
Hermione had been standing in the courtyard, looking to where Harry had run off to but spun around when the voice rang out.
“Oliver,” Hermione breathed.
He smiled hesitantly at her. “Don’t run off after him. It won’t do you any good.”
There was a second of silence before she whispered, “I know.”
Her shoulders slumped.
Oliver reached out for her, but before they had a chance to hug, a commotion started somewhere in the courtyard.
It continued.
Hermione was looking for Oliver. It was finally over, but she couldn’t find him.
When the fighting had stopped it had felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. But when she realised she could not find Oliver, the only thing she felt was fear. Would she find him in the Great Hall, with the others that didn’t make it? Would she find him at all?
It took a while, but then she did.
In a corridor, not too far away from where they had spoken earlier in the courtyard, he was slumped against a wall.
Hermione’s heart leaped in her chest and she sprinted over to him.
“Oliver? Can you hear me?” She touched his shoulder fearfully.
She pulled her wand out and thought about how to check him over when a voice hoarsely whispered, “I don’t think you should do that”
Her eyes flicked up to his, grey eyes tiredly looking at her.
“I know perfectly well how to cast a diagnostic charm,” she defended her tone feigning offense.
“After the type of magic you performed all day, I don’t doubt it for a second. But I’m fine, just a bad combination of stunner and wall,” his lips quirked upwards.
Hermione pulled him to his feet and steadied him when he wobbled.
“I could leave you here, you know, for giving me such a scare?” She half-joked, her arms tightening around him in contrast to her words.
“You could. But I don’t think you should,” he grinned, “besides, I have a better idea.”
And with that, he closed the distance between their faces with a kiss.