The game was intense, as usual, and both of my parents were into it. Our talking was basically nonexistent except for my explanations to the moves and what was going on since there wasn't a commentator.

One thing I don't think I will ever get used to is watching the people I have grown close to have balls hurled at ridiculous speeds at their bodies. Several times the bludgers connected with their targets and I cringed, waiting on someone to call a time out for injury, but they keep on playing. The resilience of these players never ceased to amaze me.

Oliver did an amazing job blocking the goals and only let two in. He did take a hit that had me concerned, but he kept going. The game lasted three hours and was a final score of 280-20. There was no mistaking the talent difference between the minor league and the professional team, but it was still good practice all the same.

One by one the players landed and those with the worse off injuries came to see me. I was surprised that Oliver didn't after the hit he took, but I had my hands full so there wasn't much time to think about it. Sometimes the players just wanted to shower and get home and would see me for healing in the morning if it wasn't too bad.

My parents sat in the corner while I healed some bruises, but there wasn't anything major. It didn't take long for me to finish up and bring them back to my place.

"How about I cook us some dinner?" I asked.

"Oh, that would be lovely! I'll help." My mother loved being in the kitchen so her offer wasn't a surprise.

My dad went to sit in the living room to watch a movie while my mum and I set to work making pasta with roasted veggies, tofu and a tahini sauce. No matter how long I lived in the magical world, the act of cooking always relaxed me and I was happy to take the time to prepare it the muggle way. I even took the time to make a quick batch of cupcakes for dessert.

The meal was lovely and I had just finished frosting the cupcakes when there was a knock at the door. I set down the piping bag and wiped my hands on a towel before answering it.

"Oliver!" He smiled warmly at me. I realized I should have let him know that my parents were here. "I forgot to mention I have company this evening."

His face fell until my mum spoke up from the kitchen. "Who is it, dear?" Her voice came closer. "Hello, I'm Jean. Hermione's mother. That over there," She pointed to my father and he waved, "Is my husband, Roger."

Oliver's face turned from one of what looked like disappointment to one of surprise. "How nice to meet you Dr. Granger and Dr. Granger. I'm Oliver Wood. I play chaser on the team and I'm Hermione's neighbor."

They shook hands and my mother turned to me. "Well don't be rude, sweetheart. Let the man in. There is plenty of leftovers and he can join us for dessert."

"Oh, I couldn't intrude." There was a slight look of panic on Oliver's face.

"Nonsense. I saw you play out there today. You must be starving!"

No one argues with my mother. Oliver and I shared a look before I opened the door further and he strode in.

He took a few steps before I stopped him. It was clear in the way he moved that he was severely hurt.

"Oliver Wood!" My tone was that of an owner scolding their dog. He quickly turned to face me and winced. "Why didn't you come see me after the match?"

He raised an arm to rub the back of his neck, a move I've noticed he does when he's nervous or bashful, but winced again and put it down. "I didn't think it was that bad."

My parents were watching the scene with confusion. "Oliver took a hit during the match and is clearly injured. Mum, would you mind making him a plate while I run a diagnostic?"

"Not at all."

My mum headed toward the kitchen while I directed Oliver to a chair and my father returned to his movie.

"Take your shirt off."

"Bossy one you are." He mumbled under his breath.

I gave him my best glare but he simply smiled and removed his shirt. A yellow bruise was already forming across his rib cage.

"Was that save really worth it?" I asked as I ran my wand over the area.

"It's always worth it."

I simply shook my head then looked him in the eye. "Not one, but two cracked ribs, Oliver. Next time you need to see me after the match. You could have done serious damage if you moved wrong and one splintered into your lung."

He grimaced as I twirled my wand and snapped the bones back together before setting it down. Placing my hand directly on the injury I used my hand to heal the bruise. I always found that the wandless spell actually worked a little better in the case of bruises because the magic was applied directly to the wound. The difficult part was concentrating on the spell and not the rock-hard muscle beneath my fingers.

"There." He inhaled sharply as the magic did it's work. "All done, but please don't dismiss your injuries again."

"Yes, Healer Granger."

I swatted his arm at his tone as he pulled his shirt back on. As he did so, my mother set down a plate of pasta and joined us at the table.

"So, Oliver, how long have you played Quidditch."

He swallowed his bite of food. "I'm going into my ninth season. This will be my first season with the Arrows though. They are a great group and Coach really knows how to help us bond as a team. I'm expecting a great season."

My mother nods. "That's great! So did the two of you just meet when Hermione started here then?"

I looked at my mother wondering where she was going with this. There was a glint in her eyes and a slight tilt to her mouth that told me she was fishing for something.

Oliver seemed oblivious. "No. We went to Hogwarts together. I'm a few years older though so we didn't have as much of a chance then to connect."

"Plus, you were obsessed with Quidditch."

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, our priorities were a bit different. Though, to my credit, I did my fair share of studying too."

I knocked my shoulder with his as he twisted up the pasta for his last bite.

"That was wonderful. I really should get going though. If I hadn't needed healing, I would have never imposed like this."

Oh yeah, my mother was having none of that. "Nonsense! Hermione, dear, did you finish that frosting?"

I jumped up. "Oops! Got side tracked. I'll only be a minute."

Heading back to the kitchen, I grabbed my piping bag and began to make neat, even swirls of frosting on each cupcake. As I looked at the finished results, I found myself thinking that the swirls looked a lot like my insides felt at the moment. Who knows what my mum was asking in my absence.

Finishing up, I brought out the tray and found my dad had joined the group. The three were talking casually and my fears began to wane that she had let slip anything embarrassing.

We made small talk while we ate our desserts and when we were done Oliver insisted on leaving.

"It was lovely to meet you both. You've got a wonderful and talented daughter here. We're lucky to have her."

My face heated at his compliments as he waved and headed out the door. I shut it and turned around to find my dad had once again escaped to his movie (he really isn't much for socialization) and my mum was glaring at me with one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"That boy likes you."

I scoff. Nothing about Oliver is boyish, he is 100% man.

As for her other comment, "We're just friends. We were both new to the team when I started and knew each other from school. Plus, we're neighbors. It makes sense that we gravitated towards each other."

She shook her head. "I saw the way that boy looked at you. He respects you, but he also has feelings for you. His eyes never left you as you were healing him."

"Well I was standing right in front of him!" I threw my hands up. "There's nothing going on there. I swear."

"Maybe not today, but soon. Mother's intuition."

I simply rolled my eyes as we settled into other subjects.

I tried not to think of my mother's words after they left, but it was difficult not to. Does Oliver have feelings for me? Do I have feelings for him?