The Book Nook

Don't stray don't ever go away
I should be much too smart for this
You know it gets the better of me
Sometimes when you and I collide
I fall into an ocean of you
Pull me out in time
Don't let me drown
Let me down
I say it's all because of you

And here I go losing my control
I'm practising your name
So I can say it to your face
It doesn't seem right to look you in the eye
Let all the things you mean to me come tumbling out my mouth
Indeed it's time tell you why I say it's infinitely true
Say you'll stay don't come and go like you do
Sway my way yeah I need to know all about you

And there's no cure no way to be sure
Where everything's turned inside out
But still in so much doubt
It makes me so tired I feel so uninspired
My head is battling with my heart
My logic has been torn apart
And now it's all so sour
Cause sweets in every afternoon

Say you'll stay don't come and go like you do
Sway my way yeah I need to know all about you

- Sway, Bic Runga

***

With the memory of the kiss in mind, Hermione turned back to the game. The rain and thunder had not eased a bit; it was still difficult to tell what was happening. She strained her eyes trying to see what Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper, was up to, but gave up when the rain started to pelt down harder than ever before.

Ron had not given up hope, however. He sat hunched forward, his heavy cloak over his head, almost off the edge of the seat. Suddenly he grabbed her arm.

'Look!' he yelled loudly, still clutching her arm. Ignoring the rain for a moment, Ron pointed to where Diggory was speeding up the pitch. 'Diggory looks like he's seen the Snitch!' he moaned. 'C'mon Harry!'

Hermione looked just in a time to see Harry zoom towards Diggory, flat on his broomstick. Ron stood up to yell words of encouragement, but suddenly she couldn't hear him. It felt like someone had wrapped a heavy blanket over her ears, muffling all sound.

A second later she saw Ron sit back down, and a deep chill that had nothing to do with the rain swept through her. Hermione felt her head go numb and dizzy. Ron grabbed her arm again, this time more urgent and desperate.

'Dementors,' he breathed shakily, look downwards. He wasn't kidding. More than a hundred of those loathsome creatures had somehow made their way onto the pitch. They cast their hoods up towards the sky, their faces hidden.

Biting her lip, Hermione forced herself to look away. Instead, she saw something even more frightening.

She screamed, and grabbed Ron's arm.

'What?' He whipped around, trembling slightly. It was too horrifying for words; she could only point.

Ron got the message.

They both watched in horror as Harry slid off the end of his broomstick and plummeted towards the ground.

***

Hermione didn't get a chance to see Oliver much after the Quidditch match. He had been present with the rest of the team that paid a visit to Harry while he was in the hospital wing, but that was all. She caught fleeting glimpses of him in corridors, during breakfast and dinner, sometimes in the library. If she was lucky, he stayed in the common room for a few minutes before disappearing up into his dormitory.

Every time Hermione saw the tall, familiar outline of a certain Keeper, she felt an unexplainable longing to go talk to him. But she was always just a few seconds too late. He strode down the hallways at the speed of lightning; no sooner had he left one class, he was in the next. If there was any logical reason for him to avoid her, Hermione would have sworn he was.

Nethertheless, she could not think constantly about tracking him down, not with all the work she had. She had been quite lucky so far; Arithmancy and Study of Ancient Runes, while challenging and difficult, had not actually any assignments as such to complete. The usual nightly homework exercises were present, of course; Hermione expected them and enjoyed them, but the absence of projects that took weeks to complete was a refreshing change, she had to admit.

A bleak, windy Wednesday about two weeks from the end of term, Hermione stood outside her classroom, waiting for Professor Lowell to arrive. A formidable witch, albeit a tad forgetful, Professor Lowell strongly reminded Hermione of Professor Sprout, minus the dirt and grime of the greenhouses.

She looked anxiously up and down the corridor. Professor Lowell was not usually late.

'Perhaps she forgot she had a lesson today,' Ernie Macmillan suggested helpfully. He was talking in hushed tones to Hannah Abbot and Terry Boot. Hermione said nothing. The corridor seemed to demand silence, and she was willing to give it.

A few seconds later, the class could see Professor Lowell's form turn a corner and appear in full view. Her arms were laden down with parchment; she staggered underneath the weight of them, a shabby wizard's hat perched precariously over her head. Giving the class a thin-lipped smile, she kicked the door open and they followed her in.

Hermione headed straight for her usual seat in the front row, next to Terry. It was only a small class of about twelve students, and although the classroom could fit a whole lot more, to Hermione it felt more cosy and snug than any Divination lesson had been, the students cramped in the stifling heat and mist of Trelawney's room.

Professor Lowell dropped the stack on the table with a thump, and adjusted her frazzled hair.

'I apologise profusely for the delay-'

'Oh that's okay,' Adrian Nott interjected, 'we don't mind waiting outside.'

The class gave a murmur of agreement.

'That's very nice of you, Nott, but I think you may be less willing to forgive me once you find out what I have in here,' Professor Lowell said, patting her stack of parchment. Then she did something that mystified the students: taking the shabby felt hat off her head, she proceeded to shred it into pieces with a pair of scissors, and using silver ink, wrote something on each piece.

'I thought she loved that hat,' muttered Terry in Hermione's ear. She had to agree, didn't Professor Lowell say the hat belonged to her late husband? The only item of clothing she had left from him?

'Oh, he'll forgive me,' said Professor Lowell suddenly, as if she knew what they were thinking from the looks on their faces, 'don't worry, I've still got a pair of his boxers at home.'

'These,' she said, placing her hand on the stack again, 'are your assignments.' A unanimous groan went up at these words, but Professor Lowell plowed on.

'This may come as a revelation to you, but Muggle Studies is much more important than the Wizarding world seems to think. Everyday, I see ignorance in the community, and that kind of ignorance leads to hate, hate leads to all sorts of other badness.

'Your job is to seek out the roots; find the seed of ignorance. Each of you will get a topic-'

Ernie put up his hand.

'No, Macmillan, you will not get to chose the topic.'

Ernie put down his hand.

'As I was saying, each of you will get a topic, drawn out of the box. Then, you will interview people, by that I mean magical folk, about the topic. Do more than a couple, and I want variety. I leave it up to you to make up the questions. Due in the second week of next term. Any questions?'

'Yes, only interviews?' Terry asked.

Here the class paused. Most of them were dreading the thought of more work. The interviews sounded hard enough, what if the interviewee gave you lousy answers?

It wasn't a surprise to Hermione when Professor Lowell informed them that the interviews were not all. There were essays to complete. Long, well-researched essays accounting for the results of the interviews. She had expected it; the interviews were the data, and what use was data if you didn't analyse it?

'Ideally, we should interview members of the Muggle public on their opinions of the Magical world as well,' said Professor Lowell, handing the sheets out. 'But that could be tricky, seeing as we don't exist.'

It was time to decide the topics. Hermione crossed her fingers to get something challenging. 'Political ideas', that sounded like a good one.

Hannah was up first. She walked to the Professor's desk and plunged her hand into the box. She pulled out a piece of felt and read it out.

'Transport.'

Professor Lowell nodded and motioned for her to sit down again.

And so it went on. After Hannah came Terry, then Mandy, and then it was Hermione's turn.

She walked up to the box anxiously. Terry had taken the one she wanted, but 'Communication' was still left. Putting her hand in, she drew a slip of felt out.

'Sports and Games,' she said, dismayed. What a lightweight topic.

'Disappointed?' asked Professor Lowell, without looking up. She gave Hermione the eerie feeling she could read minds.

'It's not that bad, you know,' Professor Lowell went on, when Hermione didn't answer. 'You can't have the best topic all the time, most students would have breathed a sigh of relief to get that topic.'

'So you do think it's lightweight?' Hermione challenged.

'Did I ever say otherwise?' Professor Lowell raised her eyebrows. 'Judging from the standard of your work, you aren't like most students, and I feel this will be a refreshing change.'

Hermione accepted this; she trusted Professor Lowell's judgement.

The bell rang, and the class filed out.

After dinner, armed with her trusty quill case, her assignment sheets and spare parchment just in case she ran out, Hermione headed off to the library. She said a quick greeting to Madam Pince, then headed for her usual spot, only to find it occupied again.

Oliver Wood turned around as she approached. 'Ah, it's you again,' he said in way of greeting. Breaking into a big smile with made Hermione's heart start to thump, he added, 'Haven't you heard the great news?'

She was mystified. 'What good news?'

'Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff a few days ago! I can't believe you aren't celebrating. This is great news for Gryffindor, because if we beat Ravenclaw, it'll take us up to second place.'

Was that good news? Hermione supposed it must be. Oliver looked happier than he did in weeks. Dimly, she recalled Harry telling Ron about it once, but she must have been too absorbed in her work to notice. Putting her bag down beside the chair, she took a seat next to him.

'What are you doing this time? That Arithmancy go alright?' he asked, peering closely at her assignment. 'What's this?'

'Oh, just a Muggle Studies assignment,' she answered, trying to sound nonchalant. Inside, she was thrilled that he remembered their last encounter, though not the Quidditch match. She wished he had made some reference to that.

Shaking his head, he dived into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Butterbeer.

What's that for?' Hermione muttered, suddenly worried that Madam Pince was behind them. 'You know you can't drink in the library.'

Oliver just rolled his eyes and opened the lid with a snap. 'You need a break from all the work you're doing. You didn't celebrate before-' he pushed the bottle towards her, '-so celebrate now.'

Hermione declined, and pulled the scarf she was wearing round her neck tighter. The winter chill had really started to seep into the castle now, and Madam Pince didn't allow fires in the library either. Or food. Or animals. She didn't really allow anything except books, and on occasion, students.

Hermione wished she still had the jar of blue flames she had in her first year. It was very convenient, being able to carry a jar of warmth around in your pockets. There was no chance the fire would break out, and it would have been perfect for a night like this. She thought of asking Oliver to start a fire, just a tiny one, but decided against it. He might actually take her seriously.

Ten minutes later, she began to regret not taking up the Butterbeer Oliver had offered her. Her teeth had started to chatter slightly, and her hands were ice cold to touch. Her fingers were slowly going numb, it hurt to grip the quill as tightly as she usually did. She shivered, and wished she had put on an extra jumper. Her eyes flickered over to Oliver, sitting slightly away from her, off to one side, looking perfectly content reading a book.

She regarded him enviously: he wasn't wearing a school issue jumper, but a much thicker, woolly black one, that looked too large for him and very comfortable. Tracing his body down to his feet, she noticed that he didn't wear regular school shoes either; instead, he had on what looked like dragon-hide boots, the colour of chocolate and laced up tightly. A Gryffindor scarf completed the ensemble. If there was a dazzling Christmas tree behind him and a log burning merrily in a fire, it would have passed for a Christmas Card picture. Quite cute, really.

Now where did that thought come from? Hermione couldn't remember thinking anyone was cute before. Nope, in her life, only puppies and kittens had been cute. Never people.

Oliver suddenly looked up, straight into Hermione's eyes. She hastily looked down at her work. It was horrible; she was both hot and cold now, her cheeks flaming and her fingers frozen.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, and she prepared herself for the onslaught of teasing, you'd have to be as slow as Crabbe and Goyle not to notice what was happening. Hermione tried to harden her emotions, preparing to build a brick wall around them, if necessary...

'Having a bit of trouble?'

'No, I'm-what?'

'Having a bit of trouble?' Oliver said again, politely. He examined her closely. Hermione wished he would look away; she certainly couldn't.

'Oh no...no, I'm fine, keep reading, I'm sure that's a very interesting book...' she trailed off.

Oliver shrugged. 'It's just that you've been watching me for the last couple of minutes...I'd help you, but I don't know the first thing about Muggles, so I'd probably just hinder you.'

'No "Muggle Studies for the Mentally-Challenged" up your sleeve by any chance?' she joked.

'Not that I know of,' answered Oliver. He smiled that wonderful smile of his, and Hermione felt herself defrosting. She wouldn't be surprised if steam had started to come out of her ears.

Out of the blue, a thought came to her. She did need a few interviewees for that assignment, why not him? He'd be perfect, a wizard who knew nothing about the Muggle world, and also keen on sports. Hermione was originally going to interview Ron, but that seemed like a bad idea now. She'd have to edit out all his wisecracks. Harry was out of the question, he knew too much about Muggles to be a truly 'ignorant'. The more she thought about it, the better an idea it was. This way, she would hopefully get also get a long compare/contrast essay between Football and Quidditch. Things were looking up.

'Can I ask you a question?' Hermione blurted out. She had to explain it quickly, he had started to pack up his things and leave.

'You just have, but yeah, go ahead.'

She cleared her throat. 'The assignment I told you about, we have to interview people about the Muggle world, my topic is Sports and Games, and I was wondering if you minded-'

'-doing an interview?' he interrupted coolly.

'Well, yes.'

He looked like he was about to say no, Hermione was ready to abandon all hope, after all, he was a seventh year, probably had plenty of work to do, and he didn't even know know her.

'I'll do it.'

'Oh, that's-you will?' she answered, surprised.

'Sure. Think of it as a, let's say, get-to-know-you...thing.'

Hermione was thrilled. A get-to-know-you thing? Perfect.

'But not right now, I'm busy studying-'

'-for the N.E.W.T.s?' Hermione interjected, looking interested. She didn't know anyone else who studied except for Percy.

'Of course not. N.E.W.Ts are ages away.' Here, he held up the book he was reading.("Keeping the Goals: A Study on Defensive Tactics"). 'This is much more important.

'Tell you what: How about the Three Broomsticks? A Hogsmeade trip is coming up, and I'm not staying for the holidays. I can't any other time, got to read this book and put the theories into practice. I've only got the pitch on a few nights, Ravenclaw have booked as well. We need all the practice we can get. So, how about it, Hermione?'

'How do you know my name?' asked Hermione, curious. They have never told each other their names directly, she had found out from Ron what his name was, she supposed he had asked Harry.

'McGonagall mentioned you a couple of times during Transfiguration,' he said, leading her towards the counter where Madam Pince stood, looking disproving. She didn't like conversations in the library.

Hermione wondered what McGonagall had said about her as Madam Pince stamped Oliver's book. He had two, the one he was reading and another thin novel he had pulled off the shelves as they had walked by.

'What did she say about me?'

'Told us you were very clever, the smartest student she's seen in a long time, and why couldn't we be more like that?'

Hermione blushed furiously as they swept out of the library and down the corridor towards the Common room. She always felt compliments coming from someone other than the source sounded a bit strange.

They said no more; Oliver swept down the hallway quickly, his boots clomping softly on the stone floors. Hermione rushed quickly to catch up; she found it hard to match his long-legged stride.

Halfway up the stairs they were disrupted by a group of Ravenclaw girls.

'Oh Oliver!' one of them burst out, causing him to stop and turn around so quickly that Hermione bumped into him.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' she apologised. He seemed to forget that she was there, and turned face the girls.

'What do you want, Janine?' he said impatiently, standing with his weight on one foot, arms crossed. Hermione hastily moved to one side, surveying the scene. Five Ravenclaws girls stood at the foot of the steps, and were now slowly walking down towards them. The middle one was probably Janine. Skinny, blonde and wearing designer spectacles, she flounced down towards Oliver and stopped within hugging distance. Hermione saw Oliver adjust his position slightly, but showed no sign of backing down. It looked like a face-off. He passed her the books he was holding.

'Oh nothing much. Just wanted to tell you that Cho's making a speedy recovery,' Janine said sweetly. Oliver scowled. Hermione didn't know who Cho was, but she obviously wasn't high on Oliver's list.

'Well, seeing as that's all, can we pass?' he said. Janine's friends had created a barrier. If they wanted to pass, they'd have to make them move apart.

'Poor thing, feeling upset about Cho? Come up to the Astronomy Tower tonight and I'll cheer you up,' said Janine, in a mock pity tone. The corridor wasn't too brightly lit, and she hadn't noticed Hermione standing there yet.

'No thanks, it's freezing up there. Also, I'm busy tonight.'

'Oh really? I'm sure we can find some way to get warm up there. Busy eh? With what?' Janine had just caught sight of Hermione, and looked her up and down with disdain. Hermione looked back, undaunted.

'Who is this?'

'Hermione. My...friend,' Oliver said through gritted teeth. He was beginning to lose his patience.

'Your...friend?' repeated Janine, as though she refused to believe it. Her eyes ever so casually looked them both up and down.

'Look, Janine, he and I both have plenty of work to do tonight so will you please let us through? Unlike some people, we don't have time to wander about the corridors pouncing on the first person we see to interrogate them about their activities,' said Hermione very quickly.

The girls looked stunned and almost did a double-turn. Oliver looked surprised. Hermione herself didn't expect that. She knew she was a Gryffindor, but had never been particularly bold or loud. It came as quite a revelation to her that she just told off a group of Ravenclaw girls, all probably in their seventh year.

It worked however, a gap appeared in the rank and Hermione passed through. No one said anything, but suddenly she felt as if all the attention was on her, you could slice the tension with a knife. She didn't looked back as she passed through, and once they were out of view, was sad to see that Oliver wasn't behind her.

She leaned against the smooth stone walls to rest a while, and presently Oliver showed up. He walked with his head down slightly, slower than usual. When he smiled at her, it was a different smile, not in the physical sense, but just emotionally different. Was it respect? And gratitude? She couldn't put her finger on it. When he spoke however, it was a different story.

'You shouldn't have done that,' he said remorsefully. 'They'll be looking out for you now.'

'Oh, I'm not scared of them,' she replied haughtily. 'What did they want with you anyway?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'Let's just say we've had a few squabbles in the past. You should have left it to me.'

They had started walking again, Hermione was desperate to know the whole story but Oliver wouldn't tell her. He was even better at deflecting questions than he was Quaffles. She got numerous one word answers, which didn't tell her anything, Hermione knew she should stop pestering him but now that she had seen those girls she was desperate to know more.

Once they had reached the portrait hole, Sir Cadogan jumped off his fat pony and challenged Oliver to a duel for Hermione's hand, and was mightily disappointed when they had the password.

'He wouldn't have stood a chance,' joked Oliver, looking happier than he did a while ago. 'He's got a sword and a pony, I've got a wand and a broomstick, you're as good as mine.'

They had reached the stairs to the boy's dormitories, where they stopped.

'The Three Broomsticks, okay?' he said quietly. He looked down at Hermione, and she noticed that his eyes softened with his voice. Like the colour of warm tea, it looked. 'I'll meet you outside at nine. It's Christmas, we could do a little sight-seeing, if you wish.'

'That'll be great,' she answered. Her brain screamed at her to reconsider, where would she have to time to sight-see? And what about Ron? Perhaps the first time ever, Hermione didn't listen.

'Great. I'm looking forward to it. Could do with a break.' He looked up towards the dormitories. 'Goodnight, my-' he stopped, bit his lip, then set off.

Hermione spent her time walking up the staircases speculating on what Oliver could have said. Several choices came to mind, 'love','darling', 'dear', but then a nagging thought brought itself into the light. Don't flatter yourself, it said, he doesn't know the first thing about you. You've met, how many times? Twice, three times, four at most. He doesn't even know your last name.

Hermione had no time to brood on these depressing thoughts, as she was accosted by Parvati and Lavender the second she stepped into the doorway.

'Did you hear? Lavender likes someone else now!' Parvati squealed excitedly.

'What happened to Seamus?' said Hermione dryly as she dumped her bag down on her trunk.

'Oh Seamus can wait till he gets a bit older,' giggled Lavender. They both eagerly sat down on Parvati's bed, and Hermione, feeling gracious, joined them.

'So, tell us then,' she said. It wasn't often that she felt like joining in the giggling, but now she was in the mood now for some good ol' fashioned girly fun.

'Well, we saw him at the Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff match,' Parvati started. 'We were there early, at first looking out for the Ravenclaw Captain. But then, the most gorgeous guy came along, and he sat down right next to Lavender! Right next to her!' she enthused, as Lavender nodded vigorously.

'It was a shame you weren't there, Hermione, otherwise you would have seen him too,' she added, looking like a love-sick puppy.

'Anyway, as I said, he sat down right next to Lavender and watched the game. He didn't look up very often, in fact he was concentrating so hard on the game I think he only blinked once-'

'-so what happened in the game?' asked Hermione, beginning to get bored. The guy sounded like any other normal person, maybe a spunky Ravenclaw, perhaps a rebel Slytherin. Generally, members of the same house sat together, but a few tended to mix with friends in other houses.

'Oh we weren't watching the game, we were too busy looking at him,' Parvati added. 'He was a Gryffindor, because he had a gold and scarlet scarf, and also when he turned around at the beginning he had a Gryffindor crest on his robes.'

Hermione nodded. 'Right, he's a Gryffindor, and also apparently really cute.'

Lavender looked scandalised. 'What do you mean "apparently"? He is!'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Sure. So what is his name?'

'She doesn't know,' said Parvati, speaking for Lavender, who was looking a little detached. Her eyes had glazed over and her mouth was hanging slightly open. 'But he was really cute, though. Once, when Hufflepuff scored he had this look on his face, like a kicked puppy. I just wanted to hug him right there and then.'

'Good thing you don't know his name then, otherwise he'd have two brand new stalkers.'

'We don't stalk!' Lavender and Parvati replied indignantly.

'I'm sure you don't,' Hermione replied automatically. 'Now if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do.'

She bend down to open her bag, and saw both of Oliver's books sitting there. Hermione wondered how they had gotten there. All of sudden she remembered when Oliver had asked her to hold his books she had never given them back to him!

A loud knocking came at the door. Lavender rose to open it, only to be almost knocked off her feet when Oliver Wood barged in. Parvati took one look at him, squealed then tried to keep from blushing.

Oliver closed the door then helped Lavender to her feet by gripping her by the shoulder and lifting her up. 'Sorry about that,' he said, brushing some dust off her shoulders brusquely. 'Is Hermione here?'

Lavender could only point. Oliver spied Hermione, strode over to where her bag was and took out his books. 'I need these back,' he said, then left, slamming the door behind him.

The shock wore over rather quickly.

'That was rather rude,' Parvati pointed out. 'Gorgeous man of my dreams, but didn't even say hello.'

'He's still cute though. Didn't you see Hermione? That's our Cute Guy!'

Hermione shrugged. 'Bit quick, I didn't catch him.'

Once Parvati had gotten over his rudeness, she and Lavender started to talk about Oliver again. Hermione had no part in their conversation, and held company with her own thoughts again. Truthfully, it bothered her that he could be so nice one minute and so brusque the next. She hadn't noticed it before, but hadn't Harry had to have Quidditch practice in rain, hail or shine? At four in the morning? Now that she thought of it, he was downright ruthless sometimes.

It was a pleasing thought. Hermione had almost started to think she was on the verge of an infatuation. It reassured her that she had not forgotten his bad points in favour of a pretty face. After all, everyone knew how physical beauty had clouded her last judgment, Hermione wished she could forget that experience.

Still, it was not to say that he was a bad person. No, far from that.

Hermione was suddenly shaken out of her thoughts by Lavender and Parvati. They had finished their discussion and were now looking at her keenly, with something akin to curious envy.

'How does he know your name, Hermione?' Lavender asked.

Hermione suddenly felt very silly when she couldn't stop a big smile from breaking out. She chose to ignore Lavender, and with a smug grin, pulled her curtain hangings closed.