He sat on his broom, high above the Quidditch pitch, just looking up at castle, at the turrets and spires that made up the most amazing sight he had ever seen. He couldn't believe that he would be soon be leaving it, that he would not be Caption of the Gryffindor team. He would miss the team, even the Weasly twins, who occasionally got on his nerves when they were in one of their pranking moods.
Gazing up at the castle, his eyes fell on Gryffindor tower and his mind thought of a young attractive 3rd year by the name of Hermione Granger. Granger may come across as hating Quidditch, but the things she did to help the team, help Harry showed that there was some love of the game inside of her, somewhere. She had charmed Harry's glasses in the match against Hufflepuff so that Harry had been able to see. Apparently she'd set fire to Snape's cloak in her first year, which had distracted Quirell and so allowed Harry to regain control of his broom. She came down to practise sessions, made sure Harry was ready for a match. He couldn't help but admire her.
He looked down at the stands, letting out a sigh. He wound not play on this pitch ever again. It was a sad occasion for him, even though they had won the Quidditch cup, there was only a few months before he left Hogwarts and never came back.
Looking down at the stands, he spotted someone sat there, a young brown haired girl and Oliver automatically recognized her as Hermione Granger, the only girl he had ever been really attracted to, even though she was what, 3 maybe 4 years younger than himself. There was a sense maturity about her, and she was very intelligent.
Grinning to himself, he swept down to her hovering over her. She looked up at him, startled by his sudden appearance above her.
"Oliver! You scared me." He grinned, jumping down from his broom so he could sit beside her.
Hermione stared at him, well, she tried not to, but Oliver Wood was one of the most handsome guys in Hogwarts, and also she had no idea why he would want to sit next to her.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he sat next to her, staring out across the Quidditch pitch, out towards the lake, the mountains and the greater, wider world.
"What are you doing down here anyway?" Hermione shrugged. She had actually come down to sketch the Quidditch pitch. She had loved drawing ever since she had been a child, and according to her parents and muggle friends she was pretty good at it, but no one at Hogwarts knew about her drawing skills apart from Harry and Ron, she liked keeping the fact quiet. It would seem a little strange for the bookworm to be a dab hand at something that wasn't reading or studying.
"Oh, I just, uh, came down to admire the view. It's so beautiful and peaceful down here."
They looked out over the horizon. It was peaceful when there wasn't a match on. The pitch was in a perfect location and so got a lot of sun during the summer and little snow during winter. Unfortunately, it did get quite a bit of rain, but it didn't ruin the atmosphere when there was a game on, it just annoyed the players during practise sessions.
He glanced at her a she sat and watched the distant horizon.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked, still staring straight ahead. Whenever she looked at him, she felt the urge to kiss him rising up in her stomach.
Oliver chuckled slightly, looking about the deserted grounds. "Remembering," he admitted, looking up at the tall posts. "I want to leave with a perfect image of this place in my head. I've won so many matches on this pitch, lost matches, been hit by too many bludgers to count," he chuckled slightly, looking down at her, his smile spreading across his lips. "I want to remember it all so I can remember you."
She looked up at him, her eyes narrowing, not out of anger, but out of shock and surprise. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor Quidditch star want to remember her? She was nothing, a small insignificant third year who knew too much and hated Quidditch.
She tried to cover up her surprise by obverting her eyes and looking down at her lap and her closed sketchbook, tracing the patterns in the leather.
"I don't get what you mean," her voice was no more than a whisper, trying to sound brave. He just smiled, moving just a little bit closer to her, but not so close that he would feel intimidated.
"I mean, that I like you Hermione Granger, I really like you." She looked back up at him, at his slightly embarrassed and red face. His soft smile. She smiled back.
"I like you too Oliver, and I'm sure we won't forget each other." He grinned at her, moving a little bit closer, resting his arm on the row of seats behind them, just above her shoulders.
"I'm glad to hear it." They leant in towards each other, her up towards him, him down towards her, eyes closing, lips getting ready to touch. But there was the sound of footsteps behind them and they snapped apart, or at least Hermione looked around sharply, leaving Oliver to sigh slightly, hanging his head for a second before looking up to see who had disturbed them.
"Hey Ron." Ronald Weasly hurried towards them, obviously not realizing that he had just interrupted something important.
"There you are Hermione. We've been looking for you all over! Harry wants to known where you put that copy of you notebook. He wants to show Ginny that one you did of him and her." Hermione sighed, nodding and getting to her feet. This was what she got for being good at drawing. Dean got the same thing as well, though he didn't have Ron bearing down his neck every second to see what he was drawing, hence why Hermione thought it necessary to do most of her drawing outside.
"Bye Oliver," she called as she hurried off after Ron, leaving the young man to just wave and watch her go.