Chapter 1

Hermione Granger stood glaring at the door of the Hogwarts hospital wing. She clenched her fists before shoving it open and forcing herself to march down the aisle to the furthest bed on the left — the one currently occupied by Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood, who was temporarily laid up, recovering from an injury sustained by an illegal play courtesy of Slytherin's Marcus Flint.

The squeak of the girl's shoes against the cold, stone floor echoed through the hushed confines of the infirmary as the bushy haired witch muttered curses under her breath, raging at the perceived injustice of being coerced into meeting with the sport obsessed seventh year.

When she reached her destination she stopped and crossed her arms. "Wood," she said tersely.

"Granger," he replied, his thick Scottish brogue making the word sound vaguely sinister. "I'd have wagered on seeing Flint or Malfoy here before you'd make an appearance."

Even though both students were in the same house their paths had rarely crossed — that is, until the match earlier in the year which pitted Gryffindor against Hufflepuff.

In Hermione's opinion it was bad enough that the teams kept playing through a torrential downpour that almost blinded poor Harry but then a group of Dementors had appeared, causing her friend to fall off his broom from a terrifying height. Thankfully, Dumbledore managed to save the boy but when Hermione learned that the team captain hadn't visited to check on his Seeker's condition, the young witch went from merely upset to downright livid in a manner of seconds.

She'd tracked the older boy down in the main courtyard where she gave him a thunderous, public telling off — culminating in her loudly declaring her utter loathing for the "heartless, self involved, glorified broom jockey" before storming away in a fit of righteous indignation.

Since that time the pair had taken great pains to avoid each other which explained Oliver's current bewilderment at her presence.

She decided to let his comment slide. "How are you feeling?" she asked in a flat tone.

"Do you care?"

"Not really but I was raised to be polite."

"Well, at least yer honest about it," he said. "So, now that we've established yer apathy, to what do I owe the unparalleled honor of yer presence? I'd have thought you had better things to do with yer time than visit glorified broom jockeys on a school night."

"Oh, I do. However, it seems I have no choice in the matter."

Oliver scrunched his forehead. "Sorry, lass. I must be thicker than even you thought for I'm not following."

Hermione dropped into the chair next to his bed and scowled. "I mean that even though I have my own studies to attend to — not to mention the daily struggle of keeping Harry and Ron not only on task but alive — I've been instructed by Professor McGonagall that I must now also make sure that your sorry arse achieves good enough marks in Charms to avoid your being suspended from the team."

Oliver's jaw tensed. "I don't need yer help. I can do just fine on my own."

"And as much as I'd love to let that happen, apparently neither of us has a say in this. I was told in no uncertain terms that your educational performance this term will bear a direct reflection on mine and I'm not about to let you wreck everything I worked so hard for the past three years."

"Even still, I'm surprised you agreed, seeing as how you feel about me and all."

"Oh, it wasn't easy, I assure you. Besides my own marks being in jeopardy, I was also told that if I refused the arrangement I would have to choose between either serving two weeks detention with Draco Malfoy or a month of assisting Madame Sprout in harvesting the stinksap from her latest crop of Mimbleus."

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she added, "And just so you know — it took me almost three hours to determine you were the lesser of the evils presented to me. Even then I was still wavering until Fred and George promised they'd stop testing their products on first years if I agreed."

"Well, I'm sorry to have taken up so much of yer precious time wrestling with that particular moral dilemma, lass, but like I said, I'm perfectly capable of handling the situation myself."

Hermione rose to her feet and shrugged. "Fine by me. But you'll be the one to tell Professor McGonagall. And you'd best be sure to inform her that I held up my end of the bargain. Good night, Wood."

She didn't wait for his response before turning on her heel and storming out the same way she entered.

"Good night, Granger," Oliver snarled through gritted teeth before throwing himself back on his pillow to stare at the ceiling.