Hey people! Is it sad that I'm excited about 100+ hits? I'm so new to this whole deal. Haha. Anyway, here it is! The intro-to-Oliver chapter ...about time right?!

Read and review! Please?

ANYWAY, I hope this isn't dreadfully anticlimactic…

__Chapter Three__

I

Hermione sat in an old wooden chair, nervously tapping her fingernails against its arm. Her lack of sleep, a result of late night reading thanks to Harry's gift, only served to heightened her sense of anxiety. She let out a small sigh and aimlessly straightened the already neat stack of parchments in her lap. Tens of questions were running through her head, like a rolodex of self-doubts, ranging from the complex "Am I ready to be a Daily Prophet reporter? Hell, am I ready to be back here?" to the trivial "Is there anything in my teeth". Her worries were simultaneously alleviated and multiplied as she heard the voice of Daily Prophet editor, Barnabas Cuffe.

"Ms. Granger?" she heard an elderly voice ask quietly.

She immediately stood up to greet him.

"Yes Mr. Cuffe, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh please call me Barnabas."

Hermione smiled nervously and sat back down as he lowered himself into the stately seat behind the desk.

"Alright," he heaved, "Let's have a look at some examples of your work." Barnabas extended a waiting hand, in which Hermione placed the stack of papers she had been previously fidgeting with.

"Ah…" he said and rose his grey bushy eyebrows as he skimmed one of her works from a London newspaper. "This is a muggle sport, yes?" He flipped the paper he was reading over to reveal a stationary picture of a man kicking a football into a net.

"Yes, although I didn't usually do sports… That was just an odd-job…" Hermione responded with a nod.

"Hmm…" and the ruffling of papers were his only responses.

Was that a bad thing? Hermione wondered to herself. She watched his face intently in an attempt to catch a reaction, yet his expression remained stolid. For Godric's sake, she thought, What if I don't get the job?!

"Well," Barnabus stated, finally breaking the silence and dropping the papers on his desk. "This is really brilliant stuff Ms. Granger."

"Thank you, sir. And please, call me Hermione." She said with a smile, relieved by his response.

"Yes, Hermione then. I'm especially fond of your sports coverage. I think you'd be perfect for a story concerning the new reserves for Puddlemere United. Nothing too serious, just a single piece for the Prophet. What do you say?"

Hermione really wasn't fond of quidditch…nor flying, but this was a job. One she desperately needed at that. She faked a smile, glad she had read the book Harry had purchased for her. "I'd love to do it. They're the oldest team in the league, yes?"

Barnabus looked impressed, "Why yes. It seems as though you know your quidditch. Lovely. Speak with Dalia at the front desk and we'll get you the proper press badges and such. I'm sure it'll be a pleasure working with you."

Hermione grinned, "Likewise. When shall I start?"

"Well ideally you'd head off today…but if that's a problem…"

"Of course not! Brilliant. Thank you very much for the opportunity, sir. Goodbye then."

Barnabus nodded a goodbye and went back to his work.

Hermione picked up her press badge within a few short minutes and with that, she was off. Hermione packed a set of clothes in her day-trip purse in case the research would take longer than she anticipated and left a note for Harry and Ron at the Leaky Cauldron in case they came looking for her. She had decided to take the train to the Puddlemere quidditch pitch and took the first one out. It was all happening so fast. A week ago she would have never imagined she'd be writing for the Prophet and here she was on a train to Dorset. Life really was curious.

On the train, Hermione decided to give "Quidditch Through the Ages" another read so as to brush up on the rules of the game. She was going into this piece completely inexperienced and quite unlearned in wizarding journalism, let alone quidditch. The feat absolutely terrified as much as it excited her, for she was, after all, back in her element. Back in her world. She sighed contentedly and looked out the window, watching the brilliant green hues of the English countryside pass her by.

…

II

Hermione stepped off the train, feeling very much out of place in her button up white shirt, black skirt and grey cardigan. The only other people at the station appeared to be a muggle couple, arguing in front of a map about whether or not they had arrived at the correct station. She ducked out of the vicinity and onto the street and once she was sure she was out of view from any lingering muggles, she turned on the spot and apparated to the entrance of the Puddlemere pitch. Having not done it in a while, the sensation was unexpected. Have I done it incorrectly?! She thought frantically. Her worries were, however, unnecessary as she soon found herself before two large doors, each emblazoned with the Puddlemere's characteristic crossed golden bulrushes.

Hermione took a deep breath and entered. A guard had stopped her, asking her purpose, yet with a quick flash of her Daily Prophet press pass, he let her through and she continued walking until she found herself in the quidditch pitch. She had hoped, unrealistically, to find the team there immediately yet, seeing as it was the off-season, the place was largely empty. This was all good and fine, however, she did happen to have an article to write. Being so, she walked towards the only man she could find, a scrawny janitor waving his wand lazily at brooms and mops, which swept and mopped with unenthusiastic motions.

"Excuse me?" She called out, wrapping her sweater around her against the cold wind.

The man jumped what seemed feet into the air and the broom and mop clattered loudly, falling to the ground.

"Bloody 'ell lady, what 'cha doing on the pitch at this time? Scared me half to death, you did…"

Hermione smiled apologetically, "I'm really sorry, sir. I..." She paused and handed him her press badge, "I'm Hermione Granger. I'm going to be writing an article on Puddlemere's new reserves. Please to meet you," She said extending a hand. The janitor stared at it for a moment, surprised at her cordial treatment, before wiping his dirty palm on his shirt and shaking her hand vigorously.

"'Ermione Granger, eh? Yeah, I've 'eard of you." He smiled widely at her. "I'm Artie. Artie Cook. What can I 'elp you with, miss?"

"Well Artie, I'm trying to find the captain of the team. I understand if he's busy or unavailable. I just need to see if I can get some interviews or something of the sort… To be honest, I don't know much about quidditch. This is my first job with the Prophet. I'm just trying not to mess it up."

Artie grinned, "Ah, its not 'ard to convince Calum to 'ave a chat with a pretty lass such as yourself." He laughed to himself. He noticed Hermione's look of confusion in response to Calum's name. "Oh, Calum Gowrie's the cap'n in case you're wonderin'… If I'm not mistaken, the team is getting their uniforms on now. I'll go let 'im know you're here."

Hermione smiled gratefully, stating a sweet "Thank you very much Artie, I really appreciate it", then sitting down on the lowest bleacher.

In a few minutes, she spotted a man with red hair walking towards her, his navy blue and gold 'Captain' robes billowing in the light wind. Hermione stood to greet him.

"Mr. Gowrie, yes?" She asked.

Calum smiled coquettishly, quite obviously trying to 'charm' her in the metaphorical sense of the word. "Aye. That's me. But, och, just call me Calum… Artie says you need an interview?"

Hermione ignored his 'charming' smile and good looks, focusing on the task at hand. "Alright, Calum. I write for the Daily Prophet, my name is—"

Calum interrupted her with a barking laugh, "Hermione Granger, of course. Seriously woman, I don't think you need to introduce yourself."

She raised an eyebrow at him, a bit annoyed. "Alright. Erm. Anyway, I was wondering if there was any way I could interview your reserves? That's the subject of the article I'm writing… I hear they seem to have shown quite promise."

Calum sighed. He had hoped she'd be interviewing him. She was obviously going to be a tough one to win over. "Erm, yeah. Sure thing." He said, a bit dejected at her lack of response to his attempt at flirting. He ran a hand through his copper colored hair and thought for a moment. "You'll want to be talking to James McPherson and Oliver Wood. They're the 'soon to be stars.'"

Hermione nodded and scribbled the names into a notepad. Oliver Wood? She thought to herself, tapping the pen upon the pad of paper. He was the Gryffindor quidditch captain wasn't he? She could have sworn she had heard Harry talk about him. Her musings were interrupted by Calum's voice.

"Erm, well I've got to go." He said, glancing at the center of the pitch where much of the team was huddled. "I'll send the boys over once we're through practicing." He smiled and shook her hand, turning around and jogging towards the pitch.

Hermione sat for the next hour, observing the team practicing. She took a few notes every now and then, but prolonged exposure the frigid air had made her fingers feel numb, rendering her hands rather useless. All she could really do was sit back and watch, earning a few quizzical glances from the players. She worried about the fact that she wasn't getting much work done, however the fact that she had nothing better to do meant could easily stay an extra day. The prospect seemed, surprisingly, fun. She had never particularly enjoyed watching quidditch but the passion which with these men played was undoubtedly admirable.

The practice game drew on, until suddenly, a blonde haired wizard tilted his broom downward and soared towards a shiny, gold object. A Seeker, she noted. As soon as his hand wrapped around the snitch, a whistle was called and the game was over. Hermione clapped for the players, smiling widely. She had had more fun watching the game that she would have ever expected.

A few dark grey rain clouds looked ominous as they hung low over the field. I should hurry… she thought to herself as she stared at the team. And with her notepad, she hurried down to the pitch. Calum smirked at her as she approached,

"Well hello there, Hermione."

"Great game," she said politely but in a tone aimed at not encouraging him.

"Thanks… I assume you're looking for McPherson and Wood?" Calum looked around and spotted the men heatedly discussing the last goal of the game. "Oy!" He called out to them, "You two! Come over here!"

James and Oliver groaned lightly and ended their talk, nodding and walking towards Calum. The first had a tall, lanky figure and piercing blue eyes the color of the ocean. The man who lingered a bit behind the first, who Hermione recognized as Oliver, was a bit more built and undeniably handsome. He had grown considerably since she had last seen him. His brown hair was cut shorter and his shoulders seemed more broad. Their looks of resignation in response to Calum's order disappeared when they saw Hermione. Much to her embarrassment Oliver had noticed her staring, and she was thankful for James' introducing himself, anything to break the awkward silence that had descended upon the trio.

"I'm James McPherson," James stated, extending a hand and offering a smile. Hermione smiled back and stated a hearty,

"Pleased to meet you, James… My name's Hermione, and I was wondering if you'd let me interview you." She turned to Oliver, "Erm, I'm writing an article for the Daily Prophet about you two," She glanced back at James, "Is…that alright?"

James laughed lightly, "Of course! That sounds great." After an awkward pause, he glanced at Oliver, whose inquisitive eyes had not left Hermione. "Mate," James said in a quiet tone, lightly shoving him. Oliver reluctantly turned towards from Hermione to James, "Yeah? Oh," He said, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, "Erm. Yes, of course. That's fine." He said in response to Hermione's question, his eyes meeting hers. He fought to keep his face passive and he glanced back at James, waiting for him to speak.

"Yeah… "James said, confused by Oliver's behavior, "Anyway, Hermione we're actually all heading out for a drink after this. You're welcome to join us and get out of this weather… It looks like a right storm is brewing up."

The three of them glanced towards the dark sky. "Alright that sounds brilliant." Hermione said, smiling at James then looking tentatively at Oliver.

"Great," Oliver and James said at the same time. James laughed lightly and Oliver smiled. "Hermione, let us just get changed quickly, yeah?" Oliver said, directly addressing Hermione for the first time. She nodded, afraid her voice would betray her as she stared into his dark eyes. No, no, no! She told herself, chastising herself for her reaction to him. Don't act like some silly schoolgirl. But even as the two men walked away towards their locker room, she couldn't get his smile out of her head. Level headed Hermione had the workings of a crush.

…

III

Oliver had woken that morning thinking that the day would be thoroughly average. Boring even. He was just as passionate about quidditch now as he was the first day he had blocked a quaffle, but his life had become undoubtedly routine and his sole enjoyment came from the occasional difficult block or some feat of flying. His personal life was entirely nonexistent but quite frankly, he considered anything off the quidditch pitch mind-dulling and a complete waste of time. And so, it had considerably surprised him to find himself face to face with a girl from his old school. 'Library girl', he had often labeled her in his head, although it was impossible to not know her name. Hermione Granger, best friend of Harry Potter "the Boy Who Defeated Voldemort". Oliver characteristically knew him better as one of the greatest seekers the Gryffindor team had seen in ages.

Through word of mouth he had heard that there was a "cute witch" watching them practice. Never before would he have associated "cute witch" with 'Library Girl' however upon seeing her, it was obvious that their claims were true. Although he refused to admit it, he has stared at her a bit more than was absolutely necessary…

After his brief encounter with her on the pitch, he and James walked to the locker room to change into their street clothes. As Oliver untied his boots, James grinned and spoke in a cheeky tone,

"So, what do you think of that Hermione girl? Cute yeah?"

Oliver momentarily paused while pulling his shirt off over his head. "Erm. Yeah I s'pose."

"Well she's going drinking with us. That should be fun." James' said with a light laugh.

Oliver's eyes flashed and he felt suddenly and overwhelmingly angry at James. What's wrong with me? He thought to himself, trying to calm himself down. He felt…protective. Probably because you went to school with the girl…and she's younger and shy. That's it. You're just being nice… yeah. His brows furrowed as he pulled on a pair of normal shoes.

James noticed the odd reaction, "Oliver, you alright?"

"Yeah, mate. I'm fine. I just might be getting sick or something…"

"Maybe you shouldn't—"

Oliver considered the idea of the team going off with Hermione without him. "I'm fine." He interrupted tersely and, after he slipped on a jacket, he walked out of the locker room, James trailing behind him.

…

IV

Hermione smiled lightly as the majority of the team filtered out of the locker room. A light drizzle had descended upon the field and Calum seemed especially keen on holding her umbrella for her. Once she spotted James and Oliver, she waved, eyeing the two of them with a look that said "HELP ME" in response to Calum's overtly flirtatious comments.

"We can take it from here," Oliver said with a smirk, taking the umbrella from Calum. Calum's gaze shifted from Hermione to Oliver then back again.

"Oh…Sure thing." Calum said in an edgy tone, not appreciating the fact that he was being shown up by simple reserves. Either way, he backed off. Once Calum was out of earshot Hermione whispered a "thank you" to Oliver. He shrugged and said offhandedly, "He's quite an arrogant bastard at times. Just doing my civic duty." James laughed loudly at Oliver's comment.

Hermione nodded, trying desperately not to misinterpret his action as something done out of romantic interest. Civic duty. She reminded herself. Nothing more. He doesn't even remember me... Be logical Hermione, you're working. And with that she forced herself to focus on her article she had to write, ignoring the looks and the mannerisms of the boy who held the umbrella above her. This was going to be quite an evening.

____________

I hope that "cliffhanger" wasn't lame… And if it is, I'll be updating very soon so keep reading (and reviewing)!