**Note: Regular text is Oliver's POV. Italics are Hermione's POV.

~Cheers~

It was one of those nights at the beginning of March, when early whispers of spring teased the crisp, cool air. The brisk wind whirled around me as I trudged back to the castle, clutching my broom in my right hand and pulling the wooden case of Quidditch equipment with my left. Never before had I practiced the game alone, but it was a perfect, cloudless night. Both the stars and the half moon provided the pitch with enough light so I could see where I was going, yet it was just dark enough for me to go unnoticed in the unlikely event that someone passed by. How could I have passed up such an opportunity?

I daresay I may have had I been a year or two younger. Though I wasn't a prefect, I had never been one for rule-breaking. It wasn't that I was concerned about getting caught or the repercussions that would inevitably come along with it, but because I didn't see the need. I had an ample amount of time to practice Quidditch during the day; was it really necessary to sneak off in the middle of the night, like Angelina, Katie, and the twins sometimes did? I never understood the point in it. When it came to Quidditch, getting a decent amount of sleep was just as important as practicing the technique itself. Sacrificing one only hurt the other.

But that night was different. To this day, I still don't really know what pushed me to do it, seeing as I had already been comfortable and warm in my bed before deciding to venture out onto the dew-covered grounds. The idea simply sprung to my mind, and I just went. What was even weirder was how no more than five minutes after being on the pitch, I abandoned the Quaffle I had charmed to fly toward me in favor of simply taking a broom ride around the castle. I wove through its many towers, flew across the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, and breezed across the Black Lake so closely that I could feel an icy mist spray against my exposed, callused hands.

I had never abandoned a practice – even an unofficial one – but that night, it felt so good, so liberating, just to fly for the sake of enjoying the ride. My love of flying had been what drawn me to Quidditch in the first place. I reluctantly admitted to myself that somewhere along the line, I had allowed it to lose its fun. Flying and Quidditch, two things I loved, had become obligations, things to stress over rather than enjoy. Getting an offer to join Puddlemere United didn't make that any easier. Even a golden opportunity such as that came with its downside: a downside of endless practices, blistered hands, and little to no social life, save for the two months during the off season. Regardless of this, I knew I'd have been a fool to turn it down and I honestly had no intention to do so. Quidditch had been my whole life for so many years; was there really anything else for me?

As I stepped into the Entrance Hall and ascended the marble staircase, I tried to determine at what point in my life flying had become so tedious and wondered if, by some miracle, it would ever be fun again. Would life ever be fun again?

There was no end in sight. Stacks of thick, musty books and piles upon piles of notes scribbled on wrinkled parchment were strewn across three separate tables. I had already broken my favorite quill, spilled two bottles of ink, and misplaced my Charms book twice. And that clock... if I could have murdered it, I would have. It was such a nuisance. It wouldn't stop ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I was slowly but surely going mad and I knew it was entirely my own fault. While Professor McGonagall understood my desire to learn as much as possible, she had been sure to warn me about the negative consequences associated with taking so many classes. She told me about the inevitable lack of sleep, loss of social life, and massive amounts of stress, and I was stupid enough to ignore her. I thought I could handle a lessened amount of sleep for a few months. I never had much of a social life, so that part didn't matter to me. And stress? I was Hermione Granger, for Merlin's sake. Stress, I had thought, would never be an issue.

Yet there I was at the beginning of spring nearly fainting from exhaustion and about to burst into tears over my heaps of unfinished homework. To top it all off, Harry and Ron - the only friends I had in the entire castle, the only people in the world other than my parents that I loved – weren't speaking to me. And I still had three more months of school to go.

I never thought I would hate school, but in that year, that moment, I hated it with every nerve in my body and every beat of my heart. I hated my classes for being so demanding. I hated my teachers for giving me so much work. I hated the Ministry for administering the damn O.W.L.s I had to take in two years' time. I hated Harry and Ron for abandoning me when I needed them most.

But I still knew it was all my fault. All of it. Everything. I had ruined one of my favorite parts of life. Learning used to be enjoyable, and reading was once an immense pleasure. I missed being able to curl up in my favorite armchair beside the fire with a book in my lap and a cup of tea at my side. I missed fiction and poetry the most. I longed to once again become immersed in places and time periods I would never visit and characters I would never meet.

If I hadn't taken on so many extra classes, I could have had time to read such enthralling works. But all I had time for was reading for school. Actually, on second thought, I didn't even have time for that. Not without my time-turner, anyway. I was positively drowning.

I was so stupid.

I ran into Roger Davies and his girlfriend on my way back to Gryffindor Tower. Well, I didn't run into them, exactly. I just saw them snogging in a corner they must have assumed was well-hidden. They were wrong.

As I walked, I wondered what it was like to have a girlfriend. I mean, I'd gone on a couple of dates in Hogsmeade and snogged a couple of girls after winning matches, but I'd never had an actual girlfriend. I never had the time for one. I was always too busy with Quidditch, and I was okay with that. As I said, Quidditch was my life. Girls weren't a priority.

But after that broom ride, I started to worry I had been wrong all along. The blokes I shared a dormitory with would always go on about how I was missing out and how I should just give a girl a chance. I always shrugged them off, saying I'd have time for dating once I got out of school and made it into professional Quidditch. The kind of life they all lead wasn't for me, I would say to myself. I liked girls, but devoting myself to one? No way. They were all crazy, right?

It was then I realized that all of them were happy. I really had missed out on something.

I sighed heavily, recited the password to the Fat Lady with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, and sauntered into the common room. I wasn't surprised to see Hermione Granger still there; she was always there after the library was locked up for the night. She was completely pale from exhaustion and looked like she was on the verge of tears, and I couldn't blame her. The stacks of books piled in front of her looked like they were going to topple over at any given moment, and I could tell she'd gone through each of them; if a book wasn't open, it had at least a dozen bookmarks sticking out of its browned pages, no doubt to mark passages for her later reference.

I pitied her. She was only in third year and shouldn't have been putting so much pressure on herself. I'd seen students go through their N.E.W.T.s and not look half as stressed as she did on that night. I couldn't help but wonder when the last time she did something for herself – something fun -was, and then it struck me that I hadn't done anything fun since joining the Quidditch team until that very same night. She was burdening herself with academics while I'd spent the past six years burdening myself with sport.

Hermione was becoming just like me. It was curious how much that saddened me, seeing as I hardly knew the girl. However, I'd seen her around, and I knew she had spirit. She was always laughing with Harry and Ron (up until recently, anyway,) and she once seemed to enjoy studying. Just like I once enjoyed flying. She was allowing herself to be consumed by what she loved most, and that broke my heart. I didn't want her - or anyone, for that matter – to end up like me.

Before I could stop myself, I spoke.

"Merlin, do you ever eat or sleep, Hermione?"

My newly-returned concentration promptly ran away again as some moron decided to open his trap. I couldn't believe his nerve.

"Honestly," I huffed angrily, "what business is it of yours if – oh goodness, Oliver, I'm so sorry."

I could feel my cheeks grow hot and crimson, and seeing as I was sitting directly in the stream of moonlight pouring in from one of the colossal windows, I was sure he saw it. Of all the people for me to snap it, it just had to be Oliver, who was quite possibly one of the friendliest and most humble people in Gryffindor Tower. I felt awful.

"It's quite alright," he said, shrugging. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have interrupted you."

"No, really, I'm sorry. I'm just-"

"Under a lot of stress? Yes, I can see that."

I just offered him a half-hearted smile and attempted to return to my work. I had two essays due soon, among other things. I expected him to retreat upstairs to his dormitory, but he instead flopped down on the couch directly across from me.

"You really should take a break, even for just an hour or two."

I snorted, not bothering to shift my attention from my notes to look at him. "As if I have the time."

"Sometimes you have to make time for breaks. I just did."

"That must have been nice," I replied irritably. He wasn't getting the hint. Was he trying to rub it in or something?

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a grin spread across his face. "It was. It was spectacular."

"Look," I snapped, slamming down my notes and finally meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry, Oliver, I really am, but I don't have time to talk right now! I have essays for both Potions and Ancient Runes to write, plus a star chart to complete for Astronomy. And I have to prepare for tomorrow's Charms class. We're being tested on Cheering Charms, and I missed the last class, so I'm behind everyone else! And don't even get me started on the presentation I have to give in Muggle Studies next week! So pardon me if I don't want to talk right now!"

The poor girl looked like she was about to simply buckle and collapse, and I couldn't blame her. If I had that much on my shoulders, I would've been crushed to death. I don't know how she did it.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you," she began, but I cut her off.

"No, don't be. It was my fault."

"No, no, I'm just-"

"Stressed, I know. We've been over this."

"Right."

"Then I'll go back to my original suggestion. Take a break."

"I'll take a break in June when exams are over," she muttered, once again returning her attention to her work. She certainly was a stubborn one. It was admirable in a way, but it was equally as irritating. Why couldn't she admit that she'd bitten off more than she could chew?

"You'll go mad by then."

"What other choice to I have?" she asked, gesturing to the bottomless pile of work on the tables between us. "Look at how much has to get done!"

"Couldn't you drop a class or two? Ease your burden a little?"

Hermione looked at me as if I'd just suggested running about on a killing spree. "That's completely out of the question! Not a chance!"

"Why are you taking so many classes, anyway? If you don't mind me asking, that is," I added quickly.

"I just feel like it."

"No one ever feels like taking twelve classes."

"Well then, Wood," she retorted, "why do you play so much damn Quidditch?"

I shrugged and answered as honestly as I could.

"Because it's the only thing I'm good at, really."

"Well, school is what I'm good at. Or at least I thought I was. I just can't concentrate anymore."

"May I ask what you're working on?"

"Cheering charms," she replied with a sigh. "I missed the lesson on them."

"You missed a class? Unheard of, I reckon."

"It's a long story."

"Would you like some help?"

She crinkled her eyebrows at me, clearly taken aback by my suggestion. I suppose she never got many offers for help, seeing as she was the person everyone else went to when they needed assistance with homework. She'd even helped a couple of the blokes in my year.

"Look," I continued, "I know I'm not a top-notch student like you are, but I'm actually pretty decent when it comes to Charms. It's the only subject I got an Outstanding O.W.L. for. If you need some help with the material you missed, well... I've personally always found it easier to learn from a person than a textbook, so if you'd like me to show you the charm, I will."

"You... you wouldn't mind?" she asked apprehensively. "It really would save me a bit of time."

"I don't mind at all."

"Well, alright then," she agreed, picking up her wand.

I probably shouldn't have been intimidated by the thought of teaching a simple charm to a third year, but seeing as said third year was Hermione Granger, it was a bit nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, I pulled my wand out of my pocket and cleared my throat.

"So, you know the incantation, I'm guessing?" Oliver asked.

I nodded. "Letifico."

"Close, but not quite," Oliver said.

"What do you mean, not quite?" I retorted. "Oliver, I've read the book multiple times, and it clearly says-"

He cut me off by holding up a hand and smiling. "Relax, Hermione. You have the right word, just the wrong pronunciation."

"What do you mean?"

"Put a little more emphasis on the third syllable," he instructed. "Let-if-EYE-co."

"Let-if-EYE-co," I repeated slowly.

"Very good. Now, how familiar are you with the wrist movement?"

"Not very," I admitted. I could feel a faint blush spread across my face again. It was so unlike me to be unprepared.

"Not to worry. It's quite simple. Hold out your wand as you normally would, and act as if you're drawing a backwards 'C' in the air, like this." Oliver demonstrated the wrist movement, and I followed suit.

"Okay," he continued, "now this time, push your wand outward as you come down to the bottom part of the 'C.'"

"Wait, what?" I asked. "What do you mean, push it outward?"

"Here," he said, moving over from his couch to mine and sitting beside me. He gently grabbed my arm. "Just kind of...extend it a bit."

Oliver held my arm and guided me through the proper motion, showing me when to move my wand away from my body. My blush returned at his touch, but this time it had nothing to do with my not knowing the proper spell. I couldn't deny that Oliver was rather handsome, and that fact that he was sitting so close left me feeling slightly insecure, and perhaps even giddy. I felt a silly grin spreading across my face as he held my arm, and my heart starting beating wildly. My head was dizzy with delight. Was this that feeling everyone talked about? Was this what it meant to crush on someone?

"Now, say the incantation as you bring your wand around. Letifico."

"Letifico," I said as Oliver continued to guide my arm. As I finished saying the spell, a small purple glow was emitted from the tip of my wand before fizzling out completely.

"How was that?" I asked, turning toward him nervously. "Was...was that good?"

"You're getting there," he said kindly. "There's room for improvement. After a bit more practice, the glow from your wand will get brighter and last a bit longer, providing a more powerful effect."

"How bright will it get?"

"Letifico!" Oliver said suddenly, pointing his own wand at me. A bright violet beam burst from the tip of his wand, hitting my directly in the chest. I could feel something good begin to course straight through my, infiltrating my heart and mind. I hadn't felt so happy in quite a while. It was wonderful.

"Like that," he said with satisfaction as the light dimmed down a few seconds later.

"Show off," I muttered. I would normally get frazzled when someone performed a spell better than I did, but under the effects of Oliver's charm – both of his spell and his smile – I couldn't help but grin. It just didn't bother me, and I loved it. It was nice to not get worked up for a change.

"Now, you try," Oliver said. "Try it on me."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't want to end up hurting you."

"Hermione, it's a cheering charm. You won't hurt me."

She was clearly happier and more relaxed under the effects of the charm, and she didn't seem quite as nervous as she did before. It was a refreshing sight.

"Letifico!" she exclaimed, aiming her wand straight at me. To the delight of us both, the glow from her wand was much brighter than it had been on her first attempt, and I could feel it working on me. I felt even more alive and content than I had on the Quidditch pitch earlier. It really was turning into one of the best nights in my recent memory.

"Much better!" I said happily. "You're a quick learner."

"Thanks," she replied. She said this modestly and without meeting my eyes. My assumption was that most compliments she received from fellow students were actually insults in disguise, which was a shame. She was a bright, clever girl – and a rather cute one, too. I know it was probably wrong for me to think of a third-year as cute, but at the same time, we were only a little over 3 years apart in age; I was going to be turning eighteen at the end of August while she would be turning fifteen in September. It wasn't really that bad when I thought of it that way.

To this day, I still don't know if it was because I was under the influence of Hermione's cheering charm, but in that moment, I really began to wonder how she would react if I were to lean in and kiss her.

I had never been kissed, and I know how irrational it was, but I wanted Oliver to be my first. I knew I should have been focusing on my homework, but he was just so handsome and friendly and he was sitting so close...

I was crazy. Absolutely bonkers. He was a seventh year. He was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, for Merlin's sake! He was going to begin training with Puddlemere United in the summer! What would he want with a nerdy little bookworm like myself? I decided a kiss with Oliver was an empty wish...

...until he began to lean in.

It was as if an unseen force was pulling me toward her. The act was completely insane, but I wasn't nervous. Somehow I knew she'd accept my kiss. I don't know how I knew, but I did.

Was it really happening? Was it really Oliver Wood – charming, humble, kind Oliver Wood – leaning in to kiss me? Me? Bookish, plain Hermione Granger? I wanted to dance, but I closed my eyes instead. He was so close. I could feel his breath tickle me.

Our lips touched.

I was flying.

I'd had my fair share of kisses in the past, but there was something about that one. Something different. Something good. And Merlin's beard, she was enthusiastic. I'd assumed she never kissed anyone before, but she did everything right.

I was so worried I was doing it wrong, but at the same time, I didn't care. Oliver Wood was kissing me. Oliver Wood!

Even though I was sitting down, my knees felt weak. My heart fluttered. I'd never experienced such a fuzzy feeling while kissing someone. What did it mean?

When we broke apart, I was speechless.

I was amazed. Dizzy. The cheering charm had worn off, but I was experiencing a whole different kind of happiness.

"Wow..." I breathed after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah... wow."

"You're a quick learner, Hermione," I said to her for the second time that night. Her cheering time had been flawless, but her kiss... Merlin.

"I think you were right. A break was a good idea."

I couldn't help but laugh at this, and she did, too.

"Do...do you need any more help with anything?"

"You know what? I think I'm actually going to turn in for the night."

"Really?"

She smiled, shutting all of the open books in front of her. "Yes. I think a night off is long overdue."

"Good," I said with a grin. "You deserve it."

"You do, too, you know."

"Sorry?"

"Oliver, I know you said you took a break tonight, but..." she sighed. "I know how much you practice Quidditch. I can tell getting ready for Puddlemere is taking its toll on you. Just... just remember your own advice, alright?"

I smiled and nodded. "I will if you will."

"I promise."

"Good," he said happily, offering me his hand. "Would you like me to walk you up to your dormitory?"

I giggled. "I'd like that very much, but I'd rather not see you breaking your leg because of the stairs. You have an important match against Slytherin coming up, no?"

"Ah, right. I completely forgot about the stairs turning into a slide."

I eyed him inquiringly. "May I ask how you learned about them?"

"Alicia left one of her knee guards in the locker room after practice on night. I thought I'd be nice and bring it back to her. I ended up with a sprained wrist."

"Well, as much as I appreciate your offer to walk me upstairs, I'd rather not have that happen to you again."

"Maybe we can take a walk around the grounds together sometime instead, seeing as we'll both be taking breaks more often."

I smiled and blushed. "I'd... I'd like that. Thanks."

"I'll see you around, then."

"See you around."

We never did get to take that walk around the grounds, I'm afraid. It sounded good at the time we discussed it, but with the morning sun the next day came the bitter reality that heaps of homework still awaited her and loads of Quidditch practice still awaited me. Life went on as usual. However, I'm happy to say that we both kept our promises. Somehow, that night made both of us realize just how important and healthy it is to take a break. Once a week, I would reserve some time to just go for a broom ride for the sake of riding, while every once in a while I would spot Hermione in the common room reading a book by some bloke named Dickens, whoever that was. Probably a Muggle writer of some sort.

Hermione and I never discussed the kiss, but I never stopped thinking about it. Even now, five years after it happened, I still catch myself wondering about it, about her. I've had girlfriends since it happened, and even one serious one, but never has a kiss made me feel so... alive. So happy. So special. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever see her again. Maybe one day I'll even get to steal another kiss from her. At times, I even wish for it.

The cobblestone path in Hogsmeade is still a bit slippery from the earlier rain, so I'm sure to watch my step as I make my way to the Hog's Head. I just got out of practice and feel like having a pint of butterbeer. Some of the guys from the team were going to the Three Broomsticks, but I'm more in the mood for something quieter and off the beaten track. I want to unwind and relax.

To my surprise, Hermione's in the pub.

She looks almost exactly the same as she did the night I taught her the Cheering Charm, but perhaps even prettier. No, definitely prettier. Beautiful. Why did I never try to keep in touch with her? I mentally kick myself.

Almost as if she senses my eyes on her, she glances upward from her seat. She smiles.

"Oliver?"

I causally make my way over to her. "Hello, Hermione. It's been a long time."

"It has! Here, have a seat." She removes her jacket and handbag from the chair beside her.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind! Ab, can I get another pint, please? Two, actually," she calls to the bartender, who nods. "So how are you, Oliver? How's the team?"

"Wonderful," I say. "I just got out of practice, actually."

"Likewise. Well, I just got out of work, I mean."

I look at the clock on the wall, then at her. "Hermione, it's eight-thirty. Why are you working so late?"

"Well, I didn't just get out of work. I've been here for a couple of hours. Every once in a while I just stop in here for a drink or two, and to say hi to Aberforth. I'm still taking your advice, you see."

"Me, too," I say as Aberforth places two fresh pints on our table. "Thank you, sir."

"So, how's life?" she asked.

I consider her question for a moment.

"Happy," I answer honestly. "I couldn't be happier."

She smiles. "That's good to hear, Oliver."

"And you?"

"I'm happy, too. It's like those cheering charms never wore off."

We both laugh and clink our glasses together.

"Cheers," I say with a smile.

As we talk about our lives and sip our butterbeers, those wondrous feelings from that night five years before return in my stomach, and I realize my feelings for this girl never died out. Perhaps there's a chance for us after all. I consider asking her if she'd like to go for that walk we never got to take.

And maybe, just maybe, we can reenact that magical kiss.

Author's Note: This was written for Griffinesque as part of the Guilty Pleasure Fic Exchange on the HPFC forum. :)

Thanks for reading!