Chapter Three:
Kiss in the Crowd

"Have we thanked you for bringing us these tickets?" Angelina asked excitedly, hurrying forward so that she could walk backward while she spoke to Hermione. "Because we really, really appreciate it!"

Her friend nodded a bit more serenely, and sent Hermione a tiny smile. "She doesn't get out much," Katie excused Angelina with a wink, which the dark-haired girl scowled at.

"Oh, don't mind her," Angelina rolled her eyes. "She's just as excited as I am."

"Angie, love, I don't know if it's possible to be as excited as you are," George chuckled and grabbed her hand so that she stopped harassing Hermione.

A little bit uncomfortable, Hermione smiled. "It wasn't really my doing; Oliver managed them for you. I'm sure he's looking forward to seeing you after the game, as well, so don't head off anywhere."

"'Course not!" Katie scoffed. "We haven't seen Oliver in years! We absolutely want to see him!"

"Hermione," Fred started seriously, tugging at the back of her jumper until she frowned at him and turned backward. He exchanged a nervous glance with his twin, and they both nodded resolutely, slightly concerning her.

"Could the two of you excuse us, just for a moment?" Fred asked politely, particularly conveying a pleading look to Katie.

"We just need a moment to speak to Hermione," George explained, offering a small smile to Angelina, who nodded and squeezed his hand lightly, tugging her best friend away from their boyfriends and newly-reacquainted former housemate.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked quietly.

"We've heard tiny rumors that my brother and his notorious best friend might be attending the game today," George frowned.

"We thought it right to warn you properly, before we arrive," Fred murmured, green eyes roaming over her face as her mocha-shaded eyes darkened and her teeth worried her lip almost instantly.

"We'll be there the entire time, of course," George vowed.

"But we wanted to make sure you'd be okay if they really showed," Fred frowned.

Hermione shrugged uneasily, and nodded. "I'll survive. I told Oliver I'd go to his game, and I plan to. They're not going to stop me. They're not even going to say anything to me, so I don't see why it should make a difference."

"Hermione – " Both twins began at once, but she shook her head.

"Please?" She beseeched. "I want to enjoy today with my two best friends. Can you let me do that?"

"Sure," they agreed gently, George leaning forward to wrap his arms around her waist in a tight hug, while Fred soothed a hand over her hair silently.

"We should get going," Hermione said, voice muffled against Fred's collar as she clutched his back tightly.

"I think we can spare another moment or two," Fred winked.

"After all, Ollie's had his fair share of you; today is our turn," George joked.

"We're relieving him of you, you see," Fred prattled.

"Took you off his hands," George nodded.

"Because you're just such a handful, love," Fred shook his head admonishingly.

"You really ought to learn to behave," George sighed dramatically, his breath whispering across her cheek.

Hermione laughed softly, squeezing George closely for a minute, then releasing him. "What would I do without the two of you?"

"Probably perish," Fred said gravely.

"Slowly, I'm sure," George agreed.

"I'm glad to hear that you have so much confidence in my abilities of survival," Hermione rolled her eyes, attempting to ignore the possibility of Harry and Ron's company at the game. Although it would not kill her, it would surely hurt to see them for the first time since the battle – and it would surely be awkward, at the very least.

"You're just not one for survival instincts, 'Mione," Fred informed.

"Natural selection didn't favor you much," George pressed.

"But that's why we're here, love."

"To protect you from harm!"

"And you're both so very good at it," she said adoringly, and although it was merely a joke, a part of her truly meant it. She would have persevered on her own, she was sure, but she wouldn't have managed quite as well without Fred and George to help her. She hadn't been phenomenal even with their friendship, but without it she would've fallen into a dark state of depression and secluded herself from the world. That wasn't who she wanted to be, and she would forever be grateful to Fred and George for preventing her transformation into that.

"We try," the twins chimed as they joined their girlfriends and each wrapped an arm around their respective women.

Hermione was rather quiet during the rest of the walk to the Quidditch stadium. She'd been rather excited for the game today, odd as that sounded. She'd been looking forward to cheering Oliver on and messing around with Fred and George, having a butterbeer or two in the stands. Now she was sure she would be too anxious to properly enjoy the night, and that upset her.

She decided to make a strong attempt to take pleasure in the day, nevertheless. But it was difficult when she was constantly worrying over what she would do when – or if, she reminded herself – Harry and Ron showed up at the game. She'd been pleased before that Oliver was of such great importance to heed only the best tickets in the Top Box, but now she wasn't so sure it was a good thing, because surely if Harry and Ron made an appearance, they'd also be seated in the same place.

Ron, at least, would not make the grievous mistake of giving the appearance that he had less money than he really did. Hermione wanted to scoff; Ron's apparent need to have all eyes on him would be his downfall, one day. It had already indirectly been the downfall of their friendship, but that didn't seem to affect him, or Harry, as much as it did her.

"Stop thinking so hard," Fred chided.

"Your brain might combust, Granger," George added.

"Leave her alone," Katie said to both of them.

"Listen to your girlfriend, Fred," Hermione agreed lightly. "She's very wise."

"It's not fair of you to gang up on me like that," Fred pouted.

"Because you and George never do that to your friends," Hermione said sarcastically, approaching the crowd lined up at one of the many ticket stations. After waiting a solid hour, they finally stood at the front of the line. Hermione presented the man with the glimmering blue tickets that she had held on to in order to prevent Fred and George from losing theirs in the mess that they called a home.

"By Merlin!" Their ticket man exclaimed. "We wondered if you'd ever come to watch Wood play, but we never imagined we'd see you face to face!"

Hermione shifted edgily and scratched the side of her cheek lightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I suppose."

"And you as well, Madam Granger!" The man cried excitedly.

"Well, of course it's a pleasure to meet her!" Fred grinned at her ill-at-ease stature.

"She's only the brightest – "

"Most alluring – "

"Caringest – "

"Most caring," Hermione corrected, a flush fanning out over her cheeks as she looked anywhere but at the scene that the twins were causing, as several more people began to look in their direction.

"War hero ever to have walked the face of this Earth," Fred finished.

"You'd do quite well to remember that all others are beneath her," George declared.

"I can hurt them for you, if you want," Angelina leaned over to whisper sincerely, scowling at her boyfriend and lover.

"Just get me out of here," Hermione pleaded, trying to lighten the situation but finding that she unfortunately put more meaning behind the words than she'd intended.

"Excuse me," Katie said loudly, breaking the ticket-taker's focus from the twins. "I'd like to get our seats now, Fred. If you're quite finished being obnoxious and embarrassing, could we go sit down?"

There was a grateful, almost praising look traded from Hermione to Katie, and the older woman winked at her before snatching the ticket stubs from the wide-eyed man at the station and pushing Fred forward with slightly unnecessary force as she hissed at him under her breath for being a prat and making Hermione uncomfortable.

For her part, Hermione was beginning to remember why it was, exactly, that she refrained from making social appearances. Her public role had been exaggerated and deformed to the point where the public was entirely unsure of all that she had done, only certain that she had, at one point, assisted Harry in his endeavors and had saved the lives of both he and Ron a countless number of times.

Shaking off those thoughts, as they usually led to long bouts of depression, Hermione reminded herself of her promise to try and enjoy the day, and so she focused instead on her friends.

They were currently walking toward the newly-installed lift that would carry them to the Top Box. Hermione was truly surprised that it had taken them so long to put lifts in the Quidditch stadiums, as so many fans had grumbled and moaned over the excessive amount of stairs that prevented them from watching the game.

"I haven't seen Ollie play Quidditch since Hogwarts," Fred bemoaned.

"He was damn good, even then," George acknowledged.

"Suppose he's gotten better?" Angelina asked, hopping into the elevator.

The girl's enthusiasm made Hermione laugh, and filled her with a gentle affection for Angelina. Although she was a good couple years older than Hermione, she acted like a child in an endearing sort of way that made spending time with her quite enjoyable. She supposed that's why she got on with George so well. As well as he and Fred understood one another, they had small differences that amounted to a lot and sometimes grew too much to handle. When they were finding it difficult to get on well, Angelina was sure to understand George when Fred simply could not.

And Katie's tranquil, knowing nature fitted well with Fred; although he was most often just as immature as his brother, he was a bit more known for his seriousness when the proper situation called for it. Katie would be quite capable of soothing Fred and offering a gentle perspective when he required it. Hermione was confident that Katie was able to deal with both sides of Fred with great aptitude, and the thought pleased her. She desperately wanted her boys to be happy.

"I'm not trying to get yelled at," George interrupted warily, "but you're awfully quiet, 'Mione."

"Everything alright?" Fred raised a brow inquisitively, implying that he was concerned.

Hermione nodded distractedly, then took her assigned seat in between Katie and George. "Everything's fine," she assured, sending a small but sincere smile. She wasn't lying; right now, everything was fine. She just wasn't sure that it would be if her former best mates decided to put on a show.

"Who are we playing against?" Hermione asked, realizing suddenly that she hadn't the slightest idea.

Her four friends stared at her incredulously and simultaneously shouted, "The Falmouth Falcons!"

Hermione frowned, recalling a small bit of information from one of her conversations with Harry and Ron ages ago. They weren't the kindest of players, if she remembered correctly. In fact, for whatever reason, their motto had stuck into her head and it was now echoing dauntingly in her head: "Let us win, but if we cannot win, let us break a few heads."

Feeling the need to affirm her suspicions, while greatly hoping that she was wrong, she asked, "They're not a very kind team, are they?"

"No," George shook his head. "They play downright dirty!"

"It makes for a great game!" Fred supported.

Hermione was now certain that it would make for an awful game for her. She felt Katie reach up and squeeze her forearm momentarily, conveying her understanding of her new friend's worries. "He'll be fine," Katie assured. "Oliver's been playing Quidditch for years; he knows what he's doing."

Hermione nodded skeptically and accepted Katie's encouragement as well as she could, but she found herself feeling quite queasy at the thought of Oliver getting hurt. Quidditch and Hermione had never really gotten on very well. She'd always felt nervous for Harry and Ron when they played, or anyone, really, as she thought of the force with which the bludgers moved and were hurled around, and how great of a distance the players would fall if knocked just an inch too far. But now, today, she felt like she might truly be sick – and Oliver hadn't even been on the pitch, yet.

"Popcorn!" Fred and George shouted, breaking her away from her thoughts and leaping up to bother the man selling the snack foods, who looked almost frightened by their dramatic jump forward and their enthusiastic natures.

"Want some?" Fred asked calmly, after he'd seated himself back down, leaning over his girlfriend to offer Hermione some of the contents of the bag.

"It's good for you," George said, sounding convinced.

"No it isn't," Hermione argued.

"Sure it is," Fred frowned. "It's made from corn."

"Normal popcorn is maybe good for you, but this popcorn has been put in so many oils and butters and has been salted up so much that it hardly resembles popcorn, and I absolutely refuse to eat it," Hermione informed them with a saucy shake of her head.

George wrinkled his nose. "That's disturbing. You almost make me not want to eat it," he announced.

"Blasphemy!" Fred cried. "George, my brother, what adulterous words you speak!"

Looking chastised, George took a handful of the popcorn and shoveled into his mouth, eliciting a strong noise of disgust from Angelina. George swallowed the mouthful as quickly as possible, and said, "Not to worry, Fred. Not even Granger's incredibly nauseating rationale can turn me off of corn of the popped nature."

Fred collapsed back in his seat, wiping a hand over his forehead in mock-relief while Katie rolled her eyes at him, leaning over and resting her head on his shoulder.

Several minutes later, Hermione didn't have to fake the smile that spread over her face as Oliver's team emerged from the locker room to the commentary of the broadcaster who announced each of their names, and the blaring roars of the crowd as each of the team members were called upon. Oliver led the team around the pitch twice, and on his third lap he began slowing down, much to the apparent confusion of his teammates. He, however, waved them downward, and when they had taken their proper positions, they looked up to their captain, who was swooping toward the Top Box.

Perplexed, Hermione furrowed her brow and asked George what he was doing.

"Haven't a clue," George said, puzzled. "They don't normally do that."

She looked back to the pitch and frowned as Oliver performed a flip in the air and suddenly ended up not a foot in front of her face. There was a large series of flashing cameras and another round of applause from the crowd.

"What are you doing?" Hermione realized that he was stopping to speak with her, as he'd shown no signs of moving, and felt heat instantly race up her entire body.

"I came to collect my good-luck kiss," Oliver grinned. "It's a big game today, lioness, and I want to make sure that I win it."

"You're joking," Hermione decided confidently, face flaming as George nudged her and the crowd around her shouted, reaching out to make an attempt to touch the famed keeper.

"I'm really not," Oliver responded, holding his hand out to her.

"Do you have any idea how many cameras there are right now?" Hermione asked him, her cheeks pink and her eyes never straying from his in order to avoid the crowd and their screams of excitement, and the press' glittering camera lights.

"Nope," he declared. "Don't particularly care, either, to be honest. Are you going to send me off to my game feeling rejected and unwanted, or are you going to give me a kiss and wish me luck?"

Hermione covered her face in embarrassment, then reached out with one hand to take his. He pulled her forward and buried one hand in her hair, pressing the other between her shoulder blades, pulling her against him tightly while he hovered on his broom in mid-air. His lips brushed against hers when he spoke, and his breath rushed over her already hot face. "I'm glad you came," he said softly.

She made a small noise of disbelief. "I can't believe you're doing this to me, Oliver Wood."

He grinned and murmured, "I bet I'll win the game now."

"You would've won it with or without me here," Hermione informed him, throwing her full support behind him, trying to ignore the new shouts of 'Give him a kiss!' echoing through the crowd.

"Mm," he hummed softly, not disagreeing or agreeing. "Now wish me luck."

"Good luck," she whispered against his mouth.

"And top it with a kiss," he instructed softly.

Hermione sighed once with resignation, feeling her legs tremble beneath her out of nervousness from all of the people watching them and fierce affection for the man whose arms she was currently enwrapped in. Nevertheless, she leaned forward to cover the small space that separated his mouth from hers, bracing herself by gripping his biceps, feeling his muscles flex beneath her fingers.

Her lips covered his, intending to touch them only briefly, but his hand at her head held her mouth against his, his hands stroking her silky curls as his teeth nipped at her lip. She sighed against his mouth, and his tongue deftly dipped between her lips, tangling with hers and exploring the caverns of her mouth. He broke away quickly as one of his teammates slapped him on the back with a boisterous laugh and informed him that the game was about to start.

"Cheer for me?" Oliver asked, tugging her more tightly against him.

"Absolutely," she affirmed, burying her head in his neck, knowing that the moment she let go of him, she would have to face the rest of the crowd.

His lips nibbled at a small spot on her neck, and Hermione gasped in response. Before she could admonish him for it, he pulled away and winked at her, performing a spin as he flew toward his team, who clapped him on the back. His coach shook his head at him, unable to keep a broad grin off his face.

"I think I just fell in love with Oliver Wood," George laughed uproariously, leaning forward to take Hermione's hips and pull them backward so that she fell into her chair. As embarrassed as she was, Hermione was partially thankful, because she was sure that her legs were so wobbly that they would not move on their own.

"You look redder than Mum gets when she's angry!" Fred's laughter matched his twin's.

Hermione didn't need a mirror to feel how red her face was growing, or how watery her eyes looked as the crowd around her excitedly shouted questions and comments at her about Oliver.

"I might kill him," she said fiercely, finally finding herself able to articulate words.

"I don't think any woman alive would deny you the right to," Katie laughed agreeably.

"Aw, c'mon," Angelina leaned forward. "Cut him a bit of slack, at least. That's certainly not a moment that you'll ever forget, and it'll be a fun story to tell when you're old and gray."

"I don't know if I'm more likely to remember kissing him or being so nervous that I couldn't walk two steps backward to get to my seat," Hermione mumbled to herself, though reluctantly admitting that it was a very, very sweet way to declare his affections for her, if not more than a little nerve-inducing.

"And after that charming display of love for his girlfriend, Oliver Wood takes place at the goalposts to begin the game!" The commentator shouted loudly, echoing throughout the stands as the crowd cheered their opposing teams onward.

Love? Hermione thought. She'd heard very little of that announcement after they had used the word 'love.' Was that what it had been? She wasn't entirely opposed to the idea of falling in love with Oliver, but was it too soon? She supposed it wasn't. Did she love him? Did he even love her, or was that just the term that the announcer had first thought of?

She shook her head; whether or not she and Oliver were in love was irrelevant right now. She'd come to support him while he played, and even if he'd done a spectacular job of making her uncomfortable in the crowd, her fondness for him far outweighed the uneasy sensation. She wanted to cheer for him now; she'd worry about love later.

"The snitch has been released! Let the game commence!"