A/N A thank you from JackMyles to Remuslives and Grande.Vanilla.Skim.Latte for their 'feel better' fics.
Oliver kicked his sports bad despondently down the hallway. He'd lost his first ever match as Gryffindor coach. It was shameful; first, he gets injured, forcing him to retire from professional Quidditch and now, after being forced to take the coaching position, he couldn't even get a good team together. He dreamed of the days of Charlie Weasley and Harry Potter, Fred and George Weasley and the three lovely ladies that still held the record for most goals scored in a single game.
Not looking where he was going, he grunted as he ran into another angry body. He looked up to see Hermione Granger, the transfiguration professor, straightening her robes. She turned a fierce glare on Oliver but seeing who it was her features softened.
"I'm sorry," they said together.
"Sorry for running into you," Oliver said.
"I'm sorry about the game. I know how hard they've been trying." She glanced over her shoulder and then turned back to Oliver, lowering her voice. "Between you and me, I've been letting the team off light on their homework on the days I know they have training."
Oliver grinned, amused at the thought of the straight-laced Hermione bending the rules to suit her house.
"I was just heading to the kitchen to get some pie, do you want to join me?" he asked. Pie always made him feel better after a game. Hermione checked her watch and nodded and together they headed down to the kitchens.
Thirty minutes later, half-eaten apple pie sitting on the table between them, Oliver found himself comparing the difference between his private room and Hermione's. It wasn't that it was especially girly, but the total lack of Quidditch memorabilia baffled him.
"No Quidditch?" he asked, shocked.
"I enjoy the game; I just don't feel the need to plaster my living quarters with pictures of the newest and best brooms or the tops teams."
She scooped up a piece of pie and, as if acting with a will of its own, her hand reached out and offered it to Oliver. His eyebrows shot up in surprise but, gently cupping her hand with his own, accepted the delicious pie.
The fork cluttered to the table and without warning they flung themselves at each other. The items on the coffee table, pie included, went flying as Oliver brushed them aside to place Hermione on it.
Neither could explain the sudden desire for each other, but as clothes were shed and skin revealed neither really cared.
Hermione felt the cool cold wood of the table against her bare back and the warm, well muscled body of Oliver Wood pressed down on top of her.
Meanwhile down in the kitchen, Harry was questioning Dobby.
"Where's my pie?" he asked, looking frantically for the lust potion laced pie. It was going to be dessert for his and Ginny's anniversary dinner.
"Harry Potter's friend takes it," Dobby said, inching towards the fire to punish himself.
"Who?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused.
"You're Herm-ninny and her Wood."
Harry reached out and grabbed the small house-elf as he flung himself towards the fire. Once Dobby had promised to not punish himself Harry let the words sink in.
Hermione, obviously but who was her Wood? Wood… wood… Oliver Wood! The potion!
"Oh, Oliver!" Hermione cried as the Keeper sunk into her, setting her body on fire with passion.
"Hermione, you're beautiful, gorgeous."
Their breathing became heavy and laboured as they worked towards their release.
"You're like a Firebolt 3000," Oliver said between grunts.
"You're like Hogwarts, A History, Special Edition."
As their moans rose to a crescendo, the effects of the pie began to wear off. With one last cry, they came together, pulling each other over the edge. As soon as their senses returned they awkwardly climbed off each other, locating their clothing and dressing quietly.
"That was…" Oliver began.
"Yeah."
"But –"
"Amazing!" they both said together, grinning foolishly.
Hermione left her shirt unbuttoned, allowing teasing glances of her bra while Oliver didn't even bother with a shirt. With a sly glance at Oliver, Hermione offered another piece of pie to the scantily clad man, cutting herself a piece as well.
They were just about to begin their second helping when a distant shout caught Hermione's attention.
"Don't eat the pie! Don't eat the pie!" she heard Harry screaming. The two panicked, quickly dressing.
When Harry burst in, not thirty seconds later, panting heavily from running and yelling at the same time, it was to find the pair innocently eating a peach pie.
"Don't eat the pie!" he yelled, knocking the offending dessert out of their hands. "The apple pie has lust potion in it, don't eat it!"
"Harry," Hermione said slowly, pointing to the ruined pie on the floor. "That's peach pie."
"What were you doing with lust pie, Potter?" Oliver asked, trying to hide his smirk.
"Nothing," Harry said, his cheeks flaming red. "I just – well you see – bye!"
They chuckled as Harry fled out the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Oliver pulled the remainder of the 'Lust Pie' from behind the couch, smiling seductively.
"Some wholesome Apple Pie?"
"Don't mind if I do."