Disclaimer: Everything that can be found in the official Harry Potter books and "Notorious" belongs to J K Rowling and Ben Hecht and Tim Dirks respectively.

A/N: Oliver/Hermione isn't a common ship but I'd like to picture them together especially after watching the HP movie. This story is written after "The Goblet of Fire" (the fourth book) and before the publication of "The Order of the Phoenix" (the fifth book) and is set one year after Hogwarts. So, Hermione is 19 and Oliver is 23. If there're readers who like the O/Hr ship, please let me know. And now, please enjoy the first chapter.

- CHAPTER ONE -

STRANGER IN THE NIGHT

A party was held in a middle-class residence in London. A beautiful, young brunette was bantering with the guests and drinking heavily. Little did she know that she was being watched.

It had been more than five years since he last saw her. How she had changed! He had never expected to find her there, not at a wild party. Hadn't she always been the academic type who practically lived in a library? But at that moment she seemed to be enjoying herself, or rather, willing to be lost in the dizziness of the party lights and loud music.

"Have one, handsome?" He was shaken out of his thought by his target's voice. She was standing in front of him and he accepted the drink she offered politely.

"Have I seen you somewhere before? Well, doesn't matter. I like party crashers." She didn't recognise him. Before he could give a response, she had turned to the other side to talk to a boyish-looking, blond man.

"We'll fly away at nine. One week in Morocco and whatever that's made you sad will have blown over." The blond man stroked the brunette's hand.

"Why are you so nice to me?" she asked him.

"Because you're a very beautiful girl."

"I'll have another drink to appreciate that." She gave a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and emptied her glass in one gulp.

The stranger eyed the blond man coldly and looked around at the kissing or snogging couples hidden in shadows here and there. He wondered why she would associate herself with this kind of people. Well, there was nothing wrong with kissing or snogging, but the problem was that these people were - ordinary.

Not ordinary in appearance or personality, but they knew nothing about his world, about her world. They would never know what a special person was standing among them and would never be able to appreciate her brains and knowledge. All they saw, and the stranger had to admit that she, was a very beautiful young woman, blossoming at the age of nineteen. Strangely, he was worried, afraid that men would take advantage of her. Clever as she had always been, she was still defenceless without her wand.

But it was ridiculous of him to have thought for her that way. It was by her own choice that she was in such situation and he was only there on Ministry business.

"Well, we'd better start breaking up, Hermione. I'll pick you up at eight." The blond man stood up to leave.

"I have to think that over." She left her seat and started to ask her guests to leave.

After all the guests had left her perfectly hideous party, the inebriated brunette sat alone at the table, eyeing the cool, tall, well-dressed man as she finished the last of the drinks. The silent, dark stranger sat perfectly still and unresponsive, watching her being satiated by drink.

Brightly lit and animated, she said to him, "How about you? Still drinking? You know something? I like... uh... you... uh..." She giggled with hiccups. "It's stuffy in here. Wanna go for a walk?"

He was once again surprised that night, this time at her romantically footloose, flirtatious and bold behaviour, but he stayed cool and calm. Perhaps his job would turn out to be easier than he had thought. "Why not?"

She giggled again. "Do you want to finish that?" She gestured towards his drink.

"It's a shame to leave it." The stranger was downing the drink but she grabbed his glass, finished it and dragged him outside.

"Don't you need a coat?"

"You'll do," She replied.

When they went outside into the breezy evening air, he noticed that she had got a bare midriff.

"Wait a minute. Let me put this on you. You might catch cold." Exhibiting his puritanical nature, he covered her nakedness with his scarf. She smiled in appreciation.

They walked along the streets of London, with her leaning on the stranger's shoulder and he supporting her with his strong arms. She was so drunk that they couldn't walk straight and it was hard to tell what she had been mumbling.

"Wanna go home?" The stranger patted the brunette's cheek. She looked up at him with half-open eyes. The faces were only a few inches away. Cheeks flushed, pupils diluted and lips were slightly apart, she looked so lost and vulnerable, and the stranger had a sudden urge to lean a bit closer and...

"Look what we've got here," A smug-looking, blue-spiky-haired, twenty-something guy in leather vest and trousers and silver bracelets interrupted. He seemed to have appeared from a cul-de-sac, followed by two goons who were flickering their knives. "Seems not only the gentleman needs us to take care of his valuables, his lady also needs our help," the leader mocked and his two goons sniggered.

The stranger pulled her closer. As he showed no sign of giving in to the three gits, the two goons closed in on him. She was only half-aware of what had been happening when he suddenly shot the three troublemakers towards a row of rubbish bins with a ... wand? And she heard him say "Obliviate" to the unconscious when flickering his weapon.

The unsuccessful robbers were taken care of but that wasn't the end.

"You're a wizard!" she exclaimed. When she struggled to get out of the stranger's grip, he attempted to calm her down but failed. Finally, he had no choice but to mutter, "Stupefy!"

*

The next morning, after waking up with a tremendous hang-over, she found the unwelcome stranger still there, standing shadowy and menacing in the doorway of her bedroom. She tried to sit up but her head spinned wildly.

"Drink this," the stranger gestured towards a vial next to her bed. Seeing that she wasn't listening, he used a bit of coaxing. "You'll feel better after drinking this. It's a cure for hangover."

She didn't trust him, but her head really hurt. If he had wanted to harm her then, he would have had done so the previous night. After fighting an internal battle, she took up the vial which was seething with white fumes and swallowed the content. Honestly, it didn't taste nice, but a few seconds later, her mind was much clearer and her head no longer hurt. It was like having taken a Pepperup Potion during a flu.

Stop thinking that! She told herself.

Suspicious of his motivations to cure and revive her, she propped herself up on the bed and asked, "Who are you?"

The stranger approached until he was standing right in front of her. "Don't you recognise me?"

She narrowed her eyes and then gasped, "Wood! Oliver Wood?"

**