Chapter Seven

Oliver Wood sighed loudly as he plonked down into his comfortable chair by the fire. His bones creaked as he allowed his muscles to relax against the cushioning. He had just had his first full training session, and possibly his first day sober in what felt like years. It hadn't really been that long; but, he realised as he rubbed his brows together, his body had aged in the short weeks since his disaster of a wedding.

He stared into the flames, watching them dance across the wood, crackling in a calming manner. In the near distance, his clock chimed to signal the hour.

Clock – WAIT! "Bullocks!" Oliver cursed, sitting bolt upright in his chair. "I am so late!" With a flick of his wand, he was no longer sweaty and dressed in his Quidditch gear, but instead adorning a nice set of slimming black robes. A quick appraisal in the mirror and he was gone with a pop, landing unceremoniously in Hogsmeade.

The restaurant – a fairly new addition to Hogsmeade's usual line up – was called The Silver Lining. It was by far one of the ritziest places in the Wizarding Community and was owned by non-other than Mr. Blaise Zabini and his bride to be, Mira.

Mira was a beauty, from what Oliver could recall. From memory, she had attended Beauxbatons Academy and was in fact, somehow related to Luna Lovegood; though Oliver was not entirely sure how.

Taking a deep breath, Oliver strode toward the entrance, and opened the door in one smooth motion. Within moments of stepping inside, he was greeted by a nervous looking waitress. "Good evening," She began, "Just a table for one tonight?" She seemed almost hopeful that he was alone.

He cleared his throat, realising that the waitress was, in fact, not nervous – but excited. She looked up at him from under blonde lashes and Oliver felt a blush creep up his neck. "Uhh, no, I'm here for the Potter anniversary dinner." He stated as she inched slightly closer to him.

She bit her lip. "Oh, that." Disappointed, obviously. "Didn't you get the message? Everyone's running late, so they pushed it back another hour…"

"Oh." He said, "well, I suppose I'll just –"

"Ah! Mr. Wood!" A voice boomed out from behind him. "Oh dear, you're early!"

Oliver turned around, coming face-to-face with the owner himself. He was standing taller than usual, his chin had gone unshaven, and he hardly looked like the scrawny boy who'd snarled at him numerous times during their time at Hogwarts.

Blaise Zabini flashed a meaningful smile at the waitress, and with a huff she moved on to her next set of customers. "Sorry about her. She gets slightly star struck when she sees anyone famous." Oliver couldn't help but grin, his ego fluffing itself without question.

"So, everyone else is late I take it?" He sighed.

Zabini nodded. "Yes, but Potter did say you might turn up early. They couldn't get hold of you, it seems." He paused thoughtfully, running a hand through his dark hair. "But you're not the only one who didn't get the owl… She's sitting over at the bar." He pointed towards some salon doors, which no doubt lead to the aforementioned bar. "Here, let me take you."

She? Oliver wondered. "Thanks, uhh… Zabini." He said with a slight stutter. It felt strange to say his name without a growl or a huff hidden in there. There was no doubt they had seen each other since the war, but Oliver hadn't honestly expected Zabini to be this friendly. Ever.

As though Zabini had been reading his thoughts, he gave Oliver a friendly nod. "Follow me."

As he followed Zabini through the saloon doors, Oliver could have sworn he heard the waitress sigh. With a shake of his head, he concentrated on where he was going, and how he was going to give Charlie a lovely flick behind the ear when he –

And then he saw her. Hermione Granger, perched on a stool gracefully at the bar, staring into her drink, seemingly in her own little world. Suddenly, Oliver felt hot. And then he felt cold. He almost tripped over his own feet as she looked up and caught his eye.

"Wood!" She squeaked, equally as surprised to see him there.

He calmed himself and took a seat, leaving a space of one stool between them. He was worried she might hear his heart hammering in his chest. "Hello Hermione." Oliver hoped to Merlin that his voice was a steady as he thought.

Zabini smiled warmly at Hermione. "Next round's on me." He said to them both, taking his leave. He gave a quick hand gesture to the barman and strolled out of the bar area.

Oliver ordered a drink. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but he knew it was some kind of muggle cocktail. The barman had raved about it, and explained what was in it at some stage, but Oliver wasn't really listening.

"So, I guess you didn't get the message either?" Hermione piped up, an exasperated look on her face.

Oliver shook his head. Too afraid to speak. She laughed a little as she finished her drink. Merlin, help me. Oliver thought as his lips involuntarily lifted into a grin. She had her hair pulled back into a curly bun, stray tendrils of hair falling over her face. Her dress was a simple but elegant pale green which hugged her hips and waist in all of the right places.

She was truly beautiful. And Oliver felt his heart stumble, much like his feet as she cleared her throat, obviously noticing that he had been staring.

"Uhh, you look beautiful, Hermione." He said, relishing the flush of her cheeks as she looked down at her dress.

"Thank you, Oliver. You look… Sober." He laughed at that and she grinned, thanking the barman as he set down their drinks.

"I am sober." He said proudly. "Although, I'm sure that's about to change."

She held up her drink, which was a bright pink liquid that smelt of strawberries and coconut. "These are amazing." She said, taking a satisfied sip. "My mum used to make these when her sister came to visit." She shook her head, reliving the memory with a smile.

~ Yes, Hermione ~

Hermione came out of her brief reverie with the realisation that Oliver Wood was staring at her – again. She cleared her throat and straightened in her stool, watching as he sipped at his drink, his nose crinkling as he swallowed. She had been sitting at the bar for about a half hour before Oliver had shown up, her palms instantly sweating as he stepped through the doors.

"Merlin, that's sweet!" He exclaimed, placing the glass down before him. "I don't know if I can drink that." He said lightly, eyeing it with suspicion.

Hermione grinned. "I'm surprised you didn't ask for a firewhiskey, Wood." She joked. "I figured that would be your first choice."

He cleared his throat, again, something he had done a couple of times since he'd sat down. "Yeah, well, uh, I felt like a change." He looked quite serious as he said it. "So, how's… things, Hermione?" He asked casually, changing the tone of conversation.

She sighed, "Oh, you know, the usual. Writing bloody gossip columns is soooo much fun." She drawled sarcastically. "Ginny has been busier than usual though; so I haven't been able to complain as much as I usually do." Hermione laughed nervously.

"Ah, I see, I see." He said, tracing his thumb and forefinger over his top lip, as though he had a moustache. She laughed again, rolling her eyes. "Well, why don't you do something you want to do?"

With a slight grimace, she looked down at her drink again. "Well, I suppose it's because I'm just not really sure what exactly it is I want to do…"

Oliver gasped overdramatically, "Did I just hear Hermione Granger say that she isn't sure about something? The horror! The SHOCK!" He placed his hands over his mouth. "The world is going to fall apart!"

As soon as she could control her giggles, Hermione took another gulp of her drink, her chest warming as she swallowed. "Oh, shut up you!" She giggled again, shooting him a mock glare – something she wasn't entirely used to doing, mind you. "And how about yourself? What's new?"

He smiled warmly at her, and Hermione found that she quite liked it. "Oh, well I was allowed back on the quidditch pitch today, which was pretty fantastic." He said, taking another sip of his drink with a slight grimace. "I hadn't realised how much I'd missed it. Being out there, I mean."

There was a certain passion in Oliver Wood's eyes as he spoke about his Quidditch. Something lit up inside of him, and Hermione was sure that Quidditch was the only thing that sparked that kind of passion within him. A fleeting desire swept over her. The desire to spark that passion in him – well, anyone, really. She sighed before she could stop herself.

He looked at her as he heard it, his brows furrowing slightly. "Everything okay?"

She smiled. "Yes, yes, of course. I was just thinking of how passionate you are about Quidditch, and sometimes I just wish…"

"Wish what?"

"I just wish…" She paused again. "I wish I could feel that passionate about something, I suppose."

He nodded, signalling the barman. "I can't drink this. Perhaps a butterbeer?"

Hermione was surprised, once again Oliver had forgone firewhiskey. Of course she was surprised; she had rarely seen him without it since the epic failure that had been his wedding.

As Hermione downed the last of her cocktail, Oliver's unfinished drink appeared in front of her. "Here, I certainly won't be drinking it." He laughed, taking a sip of his fresh butterbeer.

A little over an hour, and four beverages later, Hermione stood from her stool. "Well, I suppose I should go and see if this dinner is actually happening!" She exclaimed, stumbling a little as she turned on her heel.

They had mainly been making small talk, however the conversation had taken a turn for the worse when Oliver had mentioned his ex-fiancé without even thinking. Of course he had merely been complaining in a teasing way that "women had far too many hygiene products".

She made her way out of the bar and into the main entrance of the restaurant, finding Blaise Zabini casually leaning on one of the nearby tables, hastily scribbling.

"Mr. Zabini!" She exclaimed, grinning as he jumped in surprise.

"Goodness, Granger, you scared the life out of me!" He said, hand to his heart. He waited for Hermione's laughter to dissipate before asking her if something was the matter.

She looked at him confusedly. "No, no, everything's lovely, thanks… I just want to know if you've heard anything about this dinner?" She enquired politely.

He cringed. "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot! Ginny sent an owl earlier, notifying us that the dinner had been cancelled."

Hermione sighed, hands on hips. "And you didn't think to tell us?"

He shrugged sheepishly. "Apologies for that! To be honest, all of this wedding planning AND running this place has me so scrambled that I sometimes think I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached." He said, looking down at his feet.

She waved a hand nonchalantly. "No matter." She smiled kindly. "Well, I suppose I ought to be going anyway." She hiccupped as she finished her sentence. "Perhaps, I may have had a couple too many of those cocktails!" She grinned as he smirked at her knowingly.

She stumbled once more as she made her way back into the bar, and came to a halt, her heart sinking when she saw it. Oliver sat in his stool, and the pretty blonde waitress was leaning on the bar next to him, her chest clearly sticking out a tad too much.

Anger bubbled, and Hermione wasn't exactly sure why. She strode over to them, grabbed her back quickly off the bar and turned to leave.

Oliver's hand stopped her. "Hermione, what's going on?" He looked so concerned.

Hermione glared at him. "The dinner has been cancelled. They're not coming." She was making it sound as though she were angry about the dinner. "I'm leaving."

Oliver stood quickly, brushing off the protest of the blonde waitress and followed as Hermione practically ran out of the restaurant.

"Hermione! Wait a minute!" He called, quickening his pace. He caught up with her in no time, when she spun to face him, her curls moving with the motion.

"What do you want, Wood?" She spat.

Oliver was taken aback. "What did I do?"

"What did you do? What wouldn't you do?" She retorted. "Or rather, who wouldn't you do?" She glared at him one more time before turning on her heel again.

Oliver began to laugh. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't seem to stop it. She turned sharply once more to face him. "What are you laughing at?" She demanded to know.

He calmed himself, taking a large step closer to her. "Are you jealous, Hermione?" He cocked an eyebrow, a smirk gracing his lips.

His very smooth, tempting lips.

Hermione forced herself not to stare. "No! Of course I am NOT jealous!" She said, crossing her arms over her chest.

He took another step closer, and Hermione suddenly felt very nervous. "I think you're jealous."

"I am NOT."

"Are too."

"Am NOT."

"Yes, you ARE." He laughed again.

Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine! Is that what you want to hear, Oliver, that I'm JEALOUS, over some pretty blonde girl? Well, fine, yes, I'm jealous! Are you happy now?" She turned away from him, embarrassed, and crossed her arms again.

She felt his warm hands before she saw them. He turned her to face him. "You shouldn't be jealous. Ever." She was suddenly very aware of how close they were.

"Why?" She squeaked. It was all she could manage.

He smiled, pulling her closer to him, his eyes finding hers, no matter how hard she tried to look away. "Because, Hermione Granger," Oliver was feeling brave, he had to admit. "I've been wanting to do this all night." With the end of that sentence, Oliver leaned down, his arms wrapping soundly around her waist and kissed Hermione fiercely.

~ Yes, Hermione ~

Blaise Zabini watched the exchange from the large window of his restaurant. He smiled to himself, as he grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and the nearest quill. He scribbled something quickly;

I'm a genius; told you it would work.

Sincerely, BZ

A white owl came to his call and he attached the note. "Take this to Ginny Potter."

AN: Soooo… I finally got by butt into gear and wrote this! I hope you liked it! Sorry for any mistakes – it has been a while!

Much love! DLS.