Hey, guys!

I really hate that its Sunday today (in my country tho), and that Mondays come after Sundays.

Gah, I don't wanna go to school yet. Lemme shleep.

Anyway, here's a fic for you!

Title: What If

Pairings: Oliver-Hermione; Seamus-Ginnny (I actually think Seam and Gin would be cute together)

Last edit: August 2015 ;)

"I don't know, Seam."

"Come on, Gin. It'll be fine. I know from the bottom of me' belly that you can do it."

In his peripheral vision, Oliver could see a bit of the couple sitting beside his bar stool.

It was Finnigan and the twins' youngest sister.

'What's her name again? ...Jenny...I think it's Jenny.'

He loosened his old Gryffindor scarf and laid it on the counter and it sat there a bundle of unattractive and worn-out maroon and golden yarn.

It was freezing cold outside the pub. Not that he wasn't used to the crisp chill air of December, but it was just that in the Wood clan compound, four-foot-tall bonfires were set up from the first tinge of winter. That way, even the streets were kept warm and well-lit throughout the Christmas season. But he was in Hogsmeade, and putting up four-foot-tall bonfires would be a horrible idea.

His mum was meeting up with a couple of old friends, which explained his being there.

The Woods had a family tradition that the eldest son of each home would shoulder the obligation of representing his household in all family affairs. In simpler terms, they were the ever-presents. On birthdays, reunions, and even on the deaths of far distant cousins, they'd be there.

His mum's reunion with her Hogwarts classmates though, didn't exactly fall under the 'family affairs' category. But being typical Mrs. Wood, she still asked him to accompany her anyway. So instead of following six middle-aged women around Hogsmeade, he found himself sitting in the pub, with a nice mug of warm butterbeer in his hands. He didn't fancy the idea of being trapped in a conversation about knitting while the matriarchs picked the best wool for their holiday sweaters.

- o -

"Aye, just go for it, princess." Seamus swept a stray lock of ginger hair from Ginny's face.

He smirked. "Besides, I don't think you'll get through the 'what if' stage if ever you let this slip off your hands."

Oliver didn't mean to eavesdrop. He did pick up though, that the two were conversing about 'What if' stages and Chaser try-outs. Apparently, the youngest redhead was planning to join The Harpies next year.

Oliver had already seen her fly. Numerous times, he thought silently. Back when he and the twins were still far from busy and their stressful careers, they played Quidditch over at the Burrow on Thursdays. Jenny was a really good chaser. 'It's a sure pass,' he thought.

Her brothers couldn't even knock her off her broom as she zoomed across the pitch, quaffle grasped in leather-gloved hands.

But of course, he was lord of the Quidditch hoops and even Jenny's strongest throw couldn't break his defense.

- o -

"Hey, I don't always think of the what ifs."

"Yes, you do. All the time, Gin. I usually stop counting after ten but I believe each time you start a train, you always end up enumerating over fifty 'what ifs'."

Oliver mentally scoffed. He knew how the lad felt.

The redhead scrunched her eyebrows together, which made her freckles look like her blushing nose was magnetically drawing the tiny dots to the middle of her face as a tinge of denial and hurt welled up inside her.

"I do no-"

The equally freckly Irish boy raised one of his big palms to his face in mock frustration. "Wait."

"I never said it was bad, okay?" Dropping the face palm, he smiled and shook his head. "You know, I've been trying to convince you to just try for the past..." He paused to glance at his watch. "four bloody hours."

He slouched down on the counter."Besides, I don't find your what ifs annoying at all. You seriously think something as simple as that would annoy me after enduring two years of your rejection before you finally said yes? It just gets tiring sometimes." He raised a single eyebrow at her, "Just try, carrot top," and playfully swatted her nose with his finger.

"There will only be two outcomes if you do." He showed her two fingers to emphasize his point. "That is, either you get in the team, you'll run to the common room and knock me off the couch with the good news, and I'll be the one to say 'I told you so.' or-"

"-or I get rejected."

Seamus rolled his blue eyes. "You know what, like what I've been trying to tell you for the past four bloody hours, princess, JUST TRY." His tone was exasperated.

"At least by trying, you'll get half a good possibility and half the other. If you don't, then you'll be stuck with the other option that you obviously don't want. I, as your handsome, caring, loving, smart, intelligent, funny, charming-"

Ginny glared at him.

Clearing his throat, Seamus continued, "-explosive...boyfriend, will be deprived of sleep yet again for the next couple o' days, probably because I would obviously stay up late just to calm you down while you're in the middle of an emotional outrage during your 'what if' stage."

He sighed and leaned in to give his girlfriend a kiss on the temple. "Just try. Just try or you'll never know. Plus, I know you'll ge' in."

- o -

Oliver bowed his head and turned to leave the pub without a word, consciously leaving his half emptied mug of butterbeer on the polished counter. The walk to the door was silent, as if his mind refused to register the noise around him. His eardrums felt numb and of no use at that moment. The sound of his shoes trudging on the ankle-deep snow was what pulled him back to reality. He looked back – the pub was a good distance away. People were surrounding him in the middle of the town square.

'Curse this fountain.' Funny enough, it was where they met. Formally, that is.

It had been a month since she walked away from the Wood clan reunion. Reliving the memory made Oliver feel stupid. The entire memory was stupid, in his opinion, and he particularly wanted to Obliviate it away but he knew that it'd be even more stupid to do so. She should have actually tried to talk to her darling boyfriend before she ran off all angry. Up until that moment, he was still clueless as to why that even happened.

Oliver remembered trying to cast tracking charms in hopes of finding the emotionally volatile lass. She was so frustrated though that she made herself counter such charms.

'Women!'

In his mental turmoil, he found himself sitting on the frosty edge of the town's fountain. His eyes scanned the crystalline water that hung in icicles from the marble ledges of the old fountain.

It was then that he saw her.

The same nice skin, the same way of walking, the same blush, the same ginger feline in her hands – it was her. Her hair wasn't bushy, like that in her early years in Hogwarts. The once-insane and untamable mane mellowed down to soft curls.

Oliver vocally cursed the impeccable timing, chest exploding with a mixture of closeted emotions.

Fate could have picked a sooner day to make her appear out of nowhere, but fate chose to delay, and he particularly picked the best Gaelic curse to match the scenario.

"Oi, Hermione!"

Her head snapped up, even Crookshanks diverted his attention from the miniature pompom string ends of his owner's jacket to the familiar voice that called out to her. Immediately, the ginger cat sprang free from his owners grasp and plunged into the snow, leaving a cat-shaped hole on the white layer.

Oliver was halfway the distance between them when he felt something rubbing against his ankles. He laughed to see that it was his old pal. Picking up the shivering feline from the snow, he casted a warming charm on its blazing red fur.

"Looks like Crookshanks missed me," he smirked, petting the half kneazle on the head as it purred in delight.

Hermione was still rooted in her spot. She, too, hated fate's timing. She particularly hated the fact that Oliver Wood always had the ability to look dashing, despite being a cheating scum of the litter. He was wearing his old Gryffindor scarf, which of course, just had to match the one she was wearing.

Rather half-mindedly, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at him. Oliver cringed. "Accio-Crookshanks," she mumbled with a stony glare. The poor cat was tugged out of Oliver's grasp with a magical pull. He, on the other hand, let out a sigh of relief.

"You shouldn't be pouncing on womanizers, Crookshanks."

Oliver's head snapped at the comment. "Excuse me? You run off from the clan reunion after soaking your boyfriend in red wine in front of his entire ancestry, and then leave him completely bewildered as to why that had to happen. And now you call me a womanizer? I might not be as smart as the brightest witch of our age, but I think I'm capable enough to know some things are missing in that argument."

Hermione glared even darker. "Boyfriend? Well, we weren't technically together then, were we? After three bloody months of having to endure not being able to talk to you, I finally snapped, Oliver. You were always away, with your practices and trainings. But of course, that I should've understood perfectly. You loved Quidditch," Her chest was heaving as the bitterness poured down like hail. "And everything else falls secondary to it, in your world."

Oliver didn't know what to say, as the control in her voice started cracking.

"I actually thought Merlin's timing was perfect when I was invited by your mum to the Wood clan reunion."

She fixed a stony glare at the brunet then. "And yes, it was wonderful, too, to see you, with another girl that night. Don't you dare give me that puzzled look, I know it works its magic but not now. You never even danced with me. Merlin, you LOATHED dancing, and right there and then, you we're traipsing with another woman! You even had the twisted mind not to settle things with me before you mingled with other girls!"

Oliver didn't know if he would laugh or get mad at the statement. "Hermione, she's Fionna."

She looked even more explosive. "What made you think that I was interested in knowing that!?"

He brought his gloved hands to his face in exasperation. It really was ridiculous. "You know what, if only you dropped the counter tracking charms, it wouldn't have taken me an entire month to tell you that you were being jealous of my cousin the entire time."

Her anger faltered at the information but she held her stance. She didn't want to be gullible. He was taking steps closer to her, "'Mione, Fionna's my first cousin, Aunt Hilda's youngest. Jacob's wife," he breathed, tired. "The guy you were conversing with about S.P.E.W. on Puddlemere's championship match."

He stopped right in front of her, raising an eyebrow. "You know, I feel rather exhausted that we're stuck in this stage again."

What ifs clouded Hermione's mind. What if he's lying? What if he just wants to see if I'm gullible enough to believe him? What if Fionna's not really his cousin? What if…What if—

"Mione, cut the what ifs." She wasn't shocked. She knew she wasn't thinking out loud. He knew her too well. Oliver memorized her like his favorite muggle movie, which was of course, Star Wars. Hermione was like a series of plot twists, sometimes unexpected and shocking but nevertheless, not hard to memorize. He knew her like the table of contents of Quidditch Through The Ages.

"Okay, what if I tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. I'm sorry I let Quidditch make me lose track of what's really important."

She stopped in her train of what ifs. "What if -" She managed to say.

He trapped her in a tight embrace, one that showed both his anger and his longing after the incident. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and he took in the same smell of her apple shampoo. Three months away and he missed this apple shampoo. Finding an exposed patch of skin, he planted a kiss before whispering, "What if I tell you that I don't care?"

Her figure stiffened and he felt it under his strong arms. Oliver smiled and said, "I think this whole thing is stupid. I think we should drop the what ifs. They're ridiculous."

She was still unmoving and Oliver sighed once again. "If you don't hug me back," he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, awfully near to her ear, "I'll have to feed Crookshanks with Hagrid's fatty treacle fudge cakes. And the cloak will be mine to play with."

For the first time in a long time, he heard her laugh again – the same high-pitched one. "I'm sorry, Ollie," and the tears began to fall. She pulled away to look straight in his eyes. "It really was...a tad ridiculous."

"Take my word even just for this time, Granger," he smirked, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "Please stop the what ifs. ESPECIALLY the negative ones."

Hermione chuckled and fell into his embrace. And it was true, rid them of the what ifs and the pride, neither wanted to break up. It really was ridiculous.

"But you're still an arse." Hermione's eyes narrowed as she stared back at the keeper. "Three bloody months of you forgetting to reply back to my letters." She then humphed. Turning her back on him, she trudged on the opposite direction.

"I'm sorry! How about I let Harvey play keeper in my place this season!?" And so, Puddlemere's keeper trudged on the snow, following his bush-haired bookworm across the frozen square, mum and her girlfriends momentarily forgotten in his happiness.

- o -

Seamus leaned on the pub's doorframe. "Gin, please stop the what ifs." He flatly said as he looked exasperatedly at the carrot top beside him. "I don't want that to happen to us-" He gulped. "—and I know you won't run away – I know you'll use the bat bogey hex on me without even thinking twice."

Ginny scoffed. "Don't even think of forgetting my letters when the season starts, Finnigan."

"Yes, Ma'am!"

So, yep, that's it. :D

I'm currently working on an Olivione fic (dunno if I could stretch it into a multichap tho).

Merci