A/N: I'm writing Chapter 2 for Jax and mya14, the two people who kindly reviewed the previous chapter.

- CHAPTER TWO -

A MISSION

Oliver Wood, who was no longer a stranger to her, nodded.

It took Hermione a while to compose herself. "What's this all about, huh? What's your angle?"

"What angle?"

"About last night."

"Just wanted to be re-acquainted."

"Re-acquainted, yeah," Hermione said sarcastically.

"At least we already knew each other before last night."

Annoyed, she moved to an armchair at a corner of her bedroom, away from the former Gryffindor Keeper who was four years her senior at Hogwarts. "Oh, so what is the Puddlemere United Keeper doing here?"

"I'm no longer signed to Puddlemere United. In fact, I've quit professional Quidditch and am working for the Ministry." Oliver turned to look at her.

"So, you're trailing me to get something on me."

"I've got a job for you."

"Oh well, don't tell me." Hermione dismissed his offer with a wave. "I don't need a job and I don't want to see you. Forget it."

"My department authorized me to engage you to do some work for us."

"Go away. I don't want to have anything to do with the Ministry."

"The wizarding world is still at war, and the situation isn't looking good. Voldemort's followers have spread all over Europe."

"I tell you, I'm not interested."

Oliver totally ignored her response and continued with what he wanted to say.

"Recently, the Death Eaters have been having unusual activities in southern and eastern Europe. If my guess is right, something big is coming up. If we can find out what it is, that will be of great help to our side."

"I don't give a damn to your side or their side. I'm a Muggle!" Hermione bursted.

"No, you aren't." Oliver shook his head. "You're a witch, a Muggle-born witch, but a witch nonetheless." Oliver looked at her intently, and for a while, they held each other's gaze.

"Yeah, maybe I was trained to be a witch," Hermione averted her eyes, "but I choose a Muggle life now and I'm content with it."

"Really?" Oliver eyed her coolly. "Working as a bartender, hanging around those shallow Muggles and drinking yourself away every night, that's what you're content with. I see"

Hermione knew Oliver was trying to provoke her, but it didn't make the truth sting less. She wasn't going to give in. Eyebrows knitted, she was scheming another way to get out of this.

"I can't see why the Ministry would want me to do the job. I've already left the wizarding world. I don't have a wand. Even if I had one, I wonder how many spells I could still cast without practice for such a long time, let alone defending myself against Death Eaters."

"Honestly, I don't know why you've been chosen, but my senior deems you most suitable for the job, and I believe he must have his reasons. One year isn't that long. I'll help you pick up everything you need to know on our way to Greece. Remember, you were the brains of Hogwarts. So, no worries."

Hermione wasn't sure whether she wanted to smack him or smile at the seemingly sincere compliment. Anyway, it wasn't a time to do any of those. "Who's your senior? And why would I go with you to Greece?" Hermione challenged.

"My senior's identity is to remain confidential. And yes, you're coming with me, because you're a Gryffindor."

"That word gives me a pain." Hermione stood up to turn away from him. "No, thank you. I don't go for Gryffindorism, and I've already left Hogwarts." She was now facing the glass doors to the balcony, as if appreciating the morning view, but Oliver could see her looking at her own reflection, face indecipherable.

"I could dispute that with you."

"Breaking school rules and venturing into the Forbidden Forest. That's your Gryffindor. Well, you can have it." She gave a laugh which didn't sound like she was really amused.

After her reluctance, Oliver knew he had to contradict her claims to persuade and convince the "hard-boiled" lady to accept his offer.

"I'll play you an audio excerpt from Harry's pensieve. I don't think you've forgotten him and Ron, have you?"

Hermione froze at the mention of her best friends' names. Never had she expected to deal with the two boys who had constituted a great part of the happiest days in her life, or rather, the memory of them, again, but the recording was being played and there was no mistaking that it was the conversation between the infamous trio on 30 June, 1998.

"I know it's not by your own choice that you have to face the Dark Lord, but we're Gryffindors, we face predicament head-on. Harry, you're the Boy Who Lived. You defeated him at one and have escaped from his evil schemes six time. I'm sure you can make it again this time and come back safely." Hermione's voice sounded slightly edgy, as if trying to convince her friend and also herself.

"I know I have no choice but to face him tonight. And Hermione," Harry paused, "I''d like to let you know that without you, I wouldn't have made it in the past."

"And also me!" came Ron's voice.

"Of course! How can I have forgotten you? You're coming with me tonight."

"Harry and Ron, it doesn't matter if we couldn't demolish him this time. We still have our chances. Just make sure you come back safely."

So, that was it, the last time she saw them, talked with them.

Hermione sobered after listening to the conversation. Oliver waited patiently for her response.

"Yes, I heard it," Hermione said, "but still I'm not interested in the job. Now, go away and leave me alone. I have my own life to lead. Good times. That's what I want, and laughs with people I like. And no underhanded ministry wizards who want me to do God-knows-what, but ordinary people, who don't pop in or out and scare the hell out of me."

"I understand how you feel. I also felt sorry after knowing that they, well," Oliver had to choose his words carefully, "didn't return that night. However, cutting yourself from your world isn't helping you to move on. You're just avoiding the past. I'm not mocking. Harry was my friend, so was Ron. I didn't want them to end like that either. But they were fighting for the good of the wizarding world, and if no one continued with their work and so evil prevailed, their sacrifice would have been futile."

Oliver was never a talkative person except when the topic was Quidditch, needless to say giving sentiments, and he was slightly surprised by his own heartfelt speech.

Hermione still stood sobered in front of the balcony. Failing to elicit a response from her, Oliver was about to leave, but not before saying. "If you change your mind, you can find me at Leaky Cauldron. I'm scheduled to be leaving for Greece this evening, no matter whether you're coming or not." Then he Disapparated.

He had not poked her further as he had been aware from her reflection in the glass door that just before he left, something shiny was threatening to spill from her eyes. Maybe his chance of success wasn't that slim.

After he was gone, Hermione couldn't hold it any longer. She flung herself on the bed and cried. What Oliver had said touched her nerve. Just when she thought she had left the past behind her, why did he have to show up to make things complicated for her again? Wasn't it enough that she had lost her beloved companions, her two best friends? How much more would she have been able to bear if she had stayed in that unfair world?

Having cried all her tears, she lied motionless on her bed, picturing the faces of her two best friends and thinking the conversation with Oliver over and over again.

The doorbell rang.

Oliver couldn't be back so soon, could he?

Hermione wiped her tears, patted her face and then opened the door.

It was Dave, the boyish-looking blond man who had been at her party the previous night.

"Hey, have you forgotten we're leaving for Morocco this morning?" Dave asked accusingly. When noticing the blotches on her face, he changed his tone at once. "Oh, Hermione, what's happened? Are you alright?"

Dave tried to touch Hermione's face in a gesture to soothe her but she backed away. "Hmm, I'm fine. Thanks."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Hermione said, "Sorry, Dave, I don't think I want to go to Morocco with you." Dave raised an eyebrow.

Hermione fidgeted for an answer to his unspoken question. "Well, you see, I have some family business to attend to and will be away for a while. I'm not sure when I'll come back but I'll give you a call when I'm back to London. Sorry."

Quickly, she closed the door and leaned on the wall, feeling slightly guilty for what she had just done.

**