A/N: Wow! Didn't think I'd get that kind of response from people! And for the reviewer who was worried about Harry reciprocating the feelings for Hermione, just wait!

Chapter 2: Ireland and the Return of Suave Mr. Wood

Harry laughed to himself as he pulled on his dress shirt. Hermione had been right in asking which one he was going to wear. He was sure he had other colors than black and green, but he had turned out to be sorely mistaken. His best friend knew his wardrobe better than he did.

She never ceased to amaze him when it came to knowing everything about him; the way she fussed over him and always knew exactly what to say at exactly the right time; the way she always put up with him and his Quidditch Galas. It had gotten to the point where asking anyone else to go with him seemed unnatural. The team loved her and always threw good-natured teasing their way. It felt right.

But it was oh so wrong! Harry couldn't put on the façade anymore. He couldn't pretend to be "just her friend" any longer. Seven years of doing just that had worn thin on him. There had been plenty of moments for Harry to say something about it, but he never could bring himself to form the words. He was head-over-heels in love with Hermione Granger.

Harry sighed as he shrugged on his dress coat (he had decided on the green shirt with the black tie, coat, and pants) and reached for the door to the common room of the hotel room he and Hermione were sharing. As the door swung open, a stunning woman in a forest-green dress caught Harry's eye.

"That's new."

"Yeah. Ginny and I went shopping the other day while you and Ron went out with Draco. Is it okay?"

Harry's breath was caught in his throat.

"Hermione, you look beautiful."

Hermione blushed slightly and giggled, but regained composure almost immediately.

"You ready to go, Mr. "Strikingly Handsome" Potter?"

Harry grinned at her and walked to the door. Holding it open for her, he pinched her side mischievously and she jumped.

"Harry!"

Harry pushed her out the door and locked it behind them.

"Let's get this show on the road."

*~*

"So there's Harry, lying on the ground, passed out, while Fred and George Weasley are wrestling this rogue bludger into the chest and Gilderoy Lockhart comes up. As soon as Harry wakes up, he starts shouting for Lockhart to get away from him, but he's insisting he can mend Harry's broken arm in a flash. All I see is a spark and all the bones in Harry's arm are gone!"

The table laughed loudly, as Harry blushed, sinking into his chair.

"You can't resist telling that story, can you Wood?"

"Not a chance, Potter. There's too many ways to embarrass you," Oliver Wood responded hitting his former prize Seeker on the shoulder.

The table of Quidditch players laughed uproariously again as Harry scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh come on now, Harry, there are much better stories to tell about you while you were in school," Hermione giggled, poking Harry squarely in the chest.

Harry threw her a look that said "Do it and die."

"This one time, back when we were Head Girl and Boy, I caught Harry dancing in our common room. It was a most horrendous sight, as Harry is not the best dancer when he's not focusing on it."

Harry practically steamed from the ears.

"So I walk over to the wireless that was on the back table and turn it off. Well, I must have given Harry quite a fright, because he turned around so quickly the rug slipped out from under him and he ended up on the floor."

The Quidditch players laughed again, this time loud enough to attract attention from other tables.

"Hey Potter, mind if I ask your girlfriend here for a dance?" Oliver asked across the table, giving Harry a satisfied smirk.

"Please. Get her out of my sight," Harry responded emphatically, giving Hermione a disgusted smile.

Hermione stood up, smiling sweetly back at Harry, giving him a sharp smack on the back of the head, and followed after Oliver. Harry watched her walk away with Wood, laughing to himself.

"She's mental, that one."

Harry had been left at the table with most of his own team: their beaters, McCoy and Walker, their keeper, Jeffry O'Neill, and one of their three chasers, Meghan Brady. They laughed at Harry's comment.

"So, really, Potter, what's going on with you and Granger?" Walker asked, looking towards Wood and Hermione who were dancing near the front of the room.

"That depends. Do you mean what do I want to go on, or what's really going on?"

"There's a difference?"

Harry nodded and looked up at Hermione again, who was laughing with Wood as they danced.

"Ooo, Harry Potter's got it bad for his sidekick."

"That's so sweet."

"Brady. It's not sweet. It's devious, because now we can hold it over Potter's head," Jeffry replied, throwing Harry an evil grin.

"You all are bloody too much." Harry pushed his chair away from the table and walked off towards Hermione and Oliver.

*~*

"So, really, Oliver, why did you go over to Luxembourg? I would have thought you were going to stay the rest of your life on the Scottish team. Or at least with Harry in England."

"I do what my agent tells me to. I would have loved to stay in Scotland, or even England, but my agent kept telling me I'd be overshadowed by Potter. Not that I wasn't in school, or the fact that it doesn't bother me. Oh well, I only have to finish out the year with them, then I can try and move teams. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm a fair keeper."

"The best there is."

Hermione and Oliver danced a few moments in silence until-

"Can I cut in?"

"Why Potter, I'm honored, but really, I just don't swing that way," Oliver responded, eliciting a small chuckle from Hermione.

"Not you, Wood. The girl." Harry tried to suppress his laughter.

"Oh, but of course." Oliver kissed Hermione's hand in mock gentlemen's fashion and started back to the table.

"I see we've forgiven me," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow as Harry wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps I got tired of sitting with the team and I needed a break and you were the only choice."

"You just don't know when to stop, do you Potter?"

"What can I say? You make a fool out of me." Harry smiled at Hermione.

*~*

Three hours later found the two friends stumbling back to their room, a bit inebriated from the champagne.

"You certainly seemed taken with Oliver tonight, Hermione. Perhaps I shouldn't let you see him anymore," Harry joked as he shut the door, tripping a bit as he did.

"Ollie Wood? Never. Not my type at all. If truth be told, I'm quite taken with another Quidditch star."

"Not Krum again?"

"No, no, no. Big burly guys just don't rub me the right way." Hermione stumbled clumsily onto the couch.

"Don't rub you the right way, eh? So you dig us scrawny pale guys?" Harry plopped himself down next to her and picked up one of her feet.

Hermione sighed contently. "Harry Potter's famous foot massage. Now that's rubbing me the right way."

Hermione collapsed into a fit of giggles, resting her head on Harry shoulder.

"Are you coming on to me, Ms. Granger?"

"And why would I do a preposterous thing like that, Mr. Potter?"

"Because I'm irresistible."

"You have a big head, Harry Potter."

"So what if I do? At least I know the truth. I'm practically perfect in every way." Harry switched her feet around in his lap and picked up the other one. "In fact, there's only one person I know who is quite as perfect as I am."

"Now you're really getting a big head."

"Bah! Never!"

"So who is this mystery person, this beyond perfect human being? Not Ollie is it?"

Harry face contorted with a mixture of disgust and laughter.

"Wood? Perfect? No way. I was actually speaking about someone a bit closer to me."

"Ron?"

Harry laughed out loud at this suggestion.

"Oh, Hermione, you can always make laugh." Harry hiccuped.

"A little too much to drink tonight, I think."

"No such thing as too much to drink," Harry responded, getting up from the couch and heading towards the mini-bar. "In fact- -"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry rummaged for a FireWhiskey.

"How can you drink that stuff, Harry? It tastes like burning."

Harry shrugged as he downed the complementary bottle and rummaged to find another. A sharp knock on the door ripped his attention away from the mini- bar.

"Potter! You still in there?"

"The man of the hour! Come on in!"

A disheveled Oliver Wood walked through the door into the room Hermione and Harry were sharing.

"Harry! Oh, hello 'ermione," Wood slurred, obviously having had a touch more to drink than even Harry that evening. "Enjoy the party?"

"Very much so."

"So, Hermione, what's going on with you and Potter? Cause the word on the street has been the same for the past 6 years. Sharing a room, going to the second biggest Gala of the year together."

"Ollie, we always share a room, and name one gala, reception, or after match party we haven't gone to together."

Wood laughed to himself. "Ya know, you're the only one who calls me Ollie besides Katie. And Fred and George when they need a laugh."

Harry began to rummage through the mini-bar again, having drained two more Ogden's while Hermione and Oliver had been talking.

"Can I get you something to drink Oliver?"

"Not out of that puny thing. And besides, you seemed to have drained it of my drink of choice. What would you say to a trip down to the lobby bar? I daresay I could still put away half a litre of Ogden's before I pass out."

"Hermione, you want to come?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

She shook her head.

"You boys go on and have fun. I'll be here when you get back."

Harry threw Hermione a wavering smile, kissed her on the forehead and walked towards the door, following Wood.

"Sleep well, Hermione."

Harry blew her another kiss before stepping out the door.

*~*

Th next morning, Hermione woke to find a definite lack of something in the room. Harry had never come back up the night before, which is why she found herself sleeping sideways on the couch. She pulled her hair hastily back into a ponytail, grabbed her robe, and headed towards the lobby. She found Harry nursing a coffee in the bar, shading his eyes and wincing at the slightest sound.

"Good morning, Harry."

"And what's so good about it?"

"Maybe you shouldn't have drunken so much last night. Where did you end up sleeping?"

"On Wood's couch. They kicked us out of here around three, so we went back up to Oliver's room and cleaned out his supply of Ogden's. Last thing I remember was telling him how much I love - -" Harry stopped mid sentence, finally aware of who he was talking to.

"How much you love- -?"

"Um, Quidditch. How much I love Quidditch and playing professionally. Been worried, he has, about how the game has been treating me. You know Oliver. Always looking out for his star seeker." Harry stumbled through his words, seeming to figure them out as he said them.

Hermione turned abruptly towards the curtains and pursed her lips. That was not at all what she was hoping he was going to say.

"You okay, Hermione?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine. What would you say to a stroll after breakfast? I fix you up a hangover potion while you're in the shower, we can have some breakfast downstairs and then we can go exploring for a little before we have to head back."

"Sure. Sounds great." Harry drained his cup of coffee and took his best friend by the arm. One more slip like that and he would be done for on the Hermione Granger front.