Past Forgotten

PAST FORGOTTEN

TWO

[if only]

if all we'd lost somehow came back

if all that died again would grow

if only it were so

these are the loneliest words i know

if all our dreams were golden

and never black or gray

if all our dreams came true then

we'd never half to say

if only it were so

[if only -- whistle down the wind]

Two empty bottles of wine lay between the old friends.

Hermione was somewhat confused. What time was it, and how many glasses of wine had she drunk, and why did she feel so damned lightheaded every time Oliver smiled that infuriating smile of his and oooh, she'd better pay attention because he was asking her a question again.

"So why didn't you ever come up with Ron and Harry to fly around a bit on my family's grounds?" he was asking.

"I hated flying," Hermione was saying, "but sixth year, because Harry needled me so much about not being able to handle a broomstick, I decided to give it another go. So I do pretty well on the basic flying skills, but on the day of the final exam I completely choke up and lose control of the broomstick and -- " she stifled a giggle before composing herself and continuing her story -- "go flying straight at Madam Hooch and barely miss her before crashing into the ground!"

Oliver snorted in amusement. "Y'mean you dunno how to fly?"

"Of //course// I know how to fly, you dolt!" Hermione slurred. "It was the damn broomstick that threw me off. I knew exactly what I was doing."

He grinned sarcastically, noting his companion's obvious state of inebriation. "Right. Eh. Shouldn't we be getting you home soon?"

"So soon?" She feigned disappointment, pouting in his direction. "Well, since you are The Famous and Influential Oliver Wood, I suppose you know best."

"Of course I do." Oliver nodded. "Check, please?"

                    * * *

"Erm." Oliver Wood bit his lip awkwardly, raising an eyebrow. "So, should I call a taxi to get you home, or shall we hoof it?"

"Well," Hermione began thoughtfully, "I suppose the gentlemanly thing to do would be to walk me home."

"Right, right . . . "

"And, if you're lucky" she added with a sly wink, "I may invite you in for coffee . . . "

//Did she just insinuate what I thought she . . . //

"Coming?" Hermione tottered slightly as she turned around to look at her companion, still a bit tipsy.

Oliver shrugged, jogging towards his friend and placing an arm around her waist to steady her as she stumbled.

Hermione's thoughts were jumbled, and her head was still spinning, partially from the alcohol and partially because of what she was doing, and who with. Here was Oliver Wood and they had just eaten dinner and he was walking her home and his arm had just gone around her waist. She'd never been this physically close to a man before, apart from a few sisterly hugs or kisses on the cheek given to Harry or Ron, and now that this attractive man had his arm around her waist, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted him ever to let go.

All too soon, they had arrived at her flat. Hermione stopped, signalling that this was where she had to go, and when he removed his arm from around her she felt cold and empty.

"Well, this is my place. Thank you, I had a lovely evening," she said, half-seriously considering grabbing him around the collar right now and pulling him close and kissing him on the mouth.

No. No, she couldn't do that, because she was Hermione Granger. And he was Oliver Wood. And this was an evening out between friends -- //platonic// friends. And platonic friends didn't kiss.

"All right," he was saying. "Well, then, I trust you don't need my help to get through the door and up the stairs, so I guess this is goodbye." And he turned to go.

No. She didn't want that to happen and before either of them realized what she was doing, Hermione had grabbed hold of his arm, turned him around and raised up on her tiptoes to brush her lips against his.

Before Oliver's mind had time to register exactly what had taken place, Hermione had pulled away and disappeared through the doorway. He stood there in shock for a moment before numbly moving to the curb to hail a taxi.