Chapter 6 ~ Not the Average Witch
"I'm not the average girl from your video,
And I ain't built like a supermodel,
But I learn to love myself unconditionally,
Because I am a queen.
I'm not your average girl from the video,
My work is not determined by the price of my clothes.
No matter what I'm wearing I will always be,
India.Arie"
- "Video" by India.Arie
Hermione strutted down the hallways, Oliver by her side. She didn't know why, but every time he was near, she felt protected and safe. She turned to walk inside the great hall, and as she did, all of the tables erupted with murmurs and gasps. Oliver stood in front of her and whispered, "Thank you for saving my life. I owe you," and walked away, leaving Hermione alone. She walked towards the Gryffindor table, noticing Ron and Harry chatting away, seeming very worried.
"I hope she'll be okay," Ron said, not touching anything on the plates surrounding him. "If not, we'll never be the same."
"Yeah, and I'll never get a chance to say goodbye," Harry said miserably, also not touching anything.
"But you will get a chance to say hello," Hermione told them, sitting down between them. They both jumped, and Ron finally smiled.
"Hermione! We thought you were dead!" Ron exclaimed, hugging her.
"For a second, I thought I was too," Hermione explained.
"So, what did Madam Pomfrey say?" Harry asked, putting some mashed potatoes in his mouth, and as he did, he sighed gratefully, as though he hadn't had a bite in days.
"She said that sometimes I'll…I'll have difficulty thinking clearly, and sometimes I'll think preposterous things," Hermione said, eating some salad and taking a huge gulp of pumpkin juice. "But, other than…other than that, I'll be okay. I'll, I'll get better as the days go on."
"That's good…" Ron said, though he still look worried.
"Where's Wood?" Harry asked, clearing the odd silence that just occurred.
"He accompanied me to the Great Hall," Hermione explained, realising that Harry and Ron were too busy chatting before to notice Hermione and Oliver's entrance. "He woke up this morning, then yelled something about his Quidditch class, then fainted again." She smiled. "He'll be fine though."
"Great!" Ron cried. They continued the rest of the dinner in silence, although Ron and Harry did give occasional hugs.
After dinner, they exited the great hall, chatting about the homework that was assigned. Hermione groaned. "We had an essay assigned? I'll have to talk to Professor McGonagull about handing it in."
"Don't worry, it's not due 'til next Thursday," Harry assured her.
Hermione hit her head. "Oh, I forgot my glasses!" She turned around, and headed into the great hall again. "You guys go on without me!"
"Since when does she have glasses?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. "I guess it's one of those preposterous things she's thinking," Harry said. They turned around and went up the steps, taking Hermione's advice.
It took a while for Hermione to realise that she didn't have glasses. She hit her head again, and turned to go to the Gryffindor Tower alone, but she found she wasn't alone.
"Hello, Granger," said a hissing voice behind her. Hermione turned around, finding Malfoy facing her. "I heard you got hit in the head by Weasley's club. Are you all right?"
Hermione stood there, stunned. "Why is Malfoy so concerned about my health?" she thought. Then, realising that she looked immensely stupid just standing there, she nodded.
"I hope that hit on the head helped," Malfoy continued, circling her 'round and 'round. "Maybe it got rid of all that cleverness."
"Why would…would you want me to get rid of all my cleverness?" she asked.
"So, then you'll realise that all you need in life is a nice, handsome boy," Malfoy replied. "Like me. Maybe you've finally realised that a nice, handsome boy like myself would make you have a good life."
"The only thing that I've finally realised, Malfoy," Hermione began, her confidence building, "Is that you're a downright arse, and I would never want to go out with you." She turned on her heel and walked out of the great hall with rage.
"Well then I realised something too!" Malfoy spat after her. "That I made a total mistake by asking a MUDBLOOD to go out with me!"
Hermione's eyes swelled up with tears. She felt hot salty water running down her cheeks and splashing her robes. She had no idea where she was going, nor did she care. She opened several doors, all of them were empty. She crossed many corridors filled with silence; rage filled her head, her limbs, her heart. She couldn't believe Malfoy. She opened another door. She didn't know if it was empty or not, but she just wanted a place to rest since she was very tired; she had been roaming the school miserably for over an hour. She flung herself onto a chair, and wept soberly.
She covered her eyes and crossed her arms, and felt tears falling onto her hands. "Why is he so mean?" she asked out loud.
"Who?" a voice said.
Hermione jumped and wiped her eyes. She looked to her right, and saw Oliver shining broomsticks at his desk. She was in his office.
"Oh, Oliver! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to intrude…"
"No need to apologize," Oliver said, continuing to shine a broom. "My office is always left unopened in case someone needs help. That's the way I am. And, you, Hermione, seem to need help. What's the matter? Who's being mean?"
"I…I…I…" She couldn't remember. She scratched her head and felt like sobbing again, but she didn't even remember why she was sobbing in the first place. "Malfoy," she finally croaked. "Draco Malfoy."
"That arse?" he said, putting the broom down. His ears turned red. "Pardon me for my inappropriate use of language…"
"It's…it's all right," Hermione giggled. She noticed that Oliver was obviously working hard to be a professor, but she wanted him to know that he could act normal around her.
"Oh…what did he do?" Oliver asked.
Hermione explained the whole ordeal. Malfoy asking if she was hurt, her nodding in respond. Him saying that he hoped she got rid of her intelligence, her asking why did he hope that.
"And that he said 'maybe you've finally realised that all you need in life is a nice, handsome boy. Like me.'" Hermione told him, as Oliver sat in the chair beside her, his hand upon hers as a sign of comfort. "And I told him, 'The thing that I've finally realised is how much of an arse you are' and I walked away and he said he just realised that it was a total mistake to ask a mudblood like me out. Is that all I am? A mudblood?"
"No, Hermione," Oliver responded, looking very hurt as he looked at the appearance on her face. "You're not a mudblood. Malfoy, he's just a racist boy who doesn't care about anybody except himself and his own needs. You're not a mudblood. You're a witch. In fact, you're not an average witch. You're very talented. I heard you got 528 percent on your Arithmacy test in Grade 6, and that's something you should be very proud of. You shouldn't take this "mudblood" nonsense crap anymore. Just throw it out the window. Only care about yourself and the people around you who care about you."
"Like you?" Hermione asked, tears still streaming down her face.
"Yes," he assured her. "Like me."
"Thanks…thanks, Oliver," Hermione thanked, wiping her final tear off of her cheek. "You're very kind."
"Hey, I said I owed you one from saving my life," Oliver told her, chuckling. "I guess we're even. Well, not quite…saving my life is much more larger than just comforting someone when they're sad."
"No," she told him. "We're even…What's that broom on your desk?" she asked, eager to change the subject.
"Firebolt 450," Oliver said, smiling proudly. "I took your advice, and Which Broomstick?'s advice, and I got one. It looks much better than a Twister. And with the safety precautions, I don't think I'll ever get in an accident again!"
Hermione laughed. "And what about your Twister? Where are you going to do with that?"
"I'm donating it to the school," he explained, sitting back at his desk and polishing his broomstick, although there was no need. The Firebolt 450 was so shiny and marvellous it appeared as though it was made of gold. "Although it's not the safest thing in the world, it's very good. Second best, compared to the Firebolt 450, I think."
They talked for hours, maybe even more. Hermione knew that she had homework to do (although it took quite a while for her to remember), but she didn't care. Talking with Oliver was a joy – he seemed to understand what she was thinking, and he respected her deeply. Suddenly, an interruption occurred.
"HERMIONE? Oy! Hermione, are you there?" a voice echoed through the halls.
"I'm in here!" Hermione shouted back.
"Who's that?" Oliver asked, putting his Firebolt away.
"Ron – can't you tell?" Hermione responded.
Ron and Harry bolted through the office, spotting Hermione, then Oliver. Oliver, then Hermione.
"Hermione, we were looking all over the place for you!" Harry exclaimed, sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair.
"A third-year girl said she saw you arguing with Malfoy and then speeding off towards the fifth floor," Ron explained.
"Are you all right?" they both asked at the same time.
"I'm fine, I'm…I'm fine," Hermione told them. "I was talking to Oliver here," she gestured towards Oliver, who smiled, "and he helped me."
"You got a nasty bruise above your eye, Wood," Harry said.
"Yeah, I'll be fine though," Oliver insisted.
"Why didn't you talk to us first?" Ron asked jealously, ignoring Harry and Oliver's friendly chat.
"Sorry, I was in a daze," she said. "I didn't know where I was going, and after…after a while I was immensely tired, and felt like I should rest. Unfortunately, I broke into an office and sat on a chair that wasn't my own. Fortunately, it was Oliver's chair, and he helped me and...and...and calmed me down."
"Thanks, Oliver," Harry grinned. "Thanks for helping her."
Ron looked towards Oliver with great hate. "You should've come to us, though, Hermione! Why didn't you?"
"She already explained why, Ron! Calm yourself down!" Harry told him. "Don't get her upset again!"
"I'm sorry if I stole your duties of being a friend for a moment, Ron," Oliver apologized, locking his storage cabinet. "I didn't mean to. But Hermione came into my office, although I'm sure she didn't realise it at first, and I just calmed her down. Please don't take it offensively. Hey, do you want a cup of tea?"
The group talked for hours. Ron finally got over Oliver's chat with Hermione, and they were all chatting excitedly about Quidditch, N.E.W.Ts, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"I wish it wasn't every five years," Ron moaned, regarding the Tri-Wizard Tournament. "Then I could join this year and have fun!"
"I would definitely NOT like to do that again," Harry said, sipping his tea.
"You wouldn't," Hermione agreed, setting her cup down on the round table in the middle of their chairs. "You almost got…got killed last time."
"I almost got killed THREE times, Hermione," Harry said, although he laughed. "THREE times…man…how do I get out of all these tough situations?"
"It's because you're brave," Oliver told him, taking lemon out of his tea. "Without courage, you'll find yourself rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. But, that's also because of lack of intelligence." He looked at Hermione, then at Harry, and finally at Ron. "It's no wonder you three are friends. Harry – the brave one. Hermione – the intelligent one. Ron – the skilled, and funny, one. You are always stick together, even after a huge argument, and I'm jealous. I never had friends like that at Hogwarts, although I could depend on my Quidditch team." He sighed. "Well, you three, I think you should head back to the Gryffindor Tower…it's half past 11."
"HALF PAST ELEVEN?" Ron yelled, pouring his tea all over the chair. Hermione yelled, "RON!" by Oliver fixed the stain with a flick of his wand.
"Yeah," Oliver laughed. "Half past eleven."
"I'm never going to finish my Potions essay now!" Ron said. He hurried out of the room after muttering a farewell, moaning and groaning along the way.
"You're lucky you missed today's class, Hermione," Harry said, standing at the door. "Thanks for the tea, Oliver. Delicious!"
"Any time, little man," Oliver said, laughing as Harry, too, rushed out of sight. "They're VERY funny…"
"Sometimes…sometimes embarrassing though," Hermione added, sipping the last of her tea. "Thanks, thanks for helping me, Oliver."
"It's all right, Hermione," Oliver repeated again. "If I haven't told you once I've told you a thousand times – I owed you. We're even." He grinned the grin that made Hermione go weak in the knees.
"Yeah, but…but still – thank you," Hermione said. She set her teacup down and stood up. "I like your new broom. Perhaps, some…some day you'll teach me how to fly it, and I'll ride it all day." She turned a nasty shade of crimson, and burst out laughing.
Oliver began to laugh as well. His grin multiplied, and his chuckles echoed in Hermione's ears. She couldn't take it. Her knees began to bend, and her along with it. She came stumbling down, feeling like she was about to throw up. She tried to regain her balance, but it was no use, unless Oliver Wood came to her rescue. And he did. He grabbed onto her arms, her face 3 inches from the ground. He pulled her up and made her rest her head upon his shoulder.
"Thanks, Oliver," Hermione thanked again, as she let go. "You didn't have to."
"It's all right, Hermione," Oliver repeated yet again. He laughed. "I didn't want you to get a nasty bruise like I did on my face. You could've hit your head very hard on the floor, and I didn't want you to."
"Good night, Oliver," Hermione said, ready to close the door.
"Good night, Hermione," Oliver replied, watching her walk out.
Oliver sat down again, overcome with a wave of emotions. He retraced his conversation before Harry and Ron arrived, and remembered saying something about not being an average witch. "Boy, was I right," he thought, as he rechecked his notes for tomorrow's class. "She isn't an average witch. She's amazing."
"No!" a voice squealed in the back of his head. "You mustn't get involved. You're a professor –she's a student. This will not go well. You could get fired."
"Why not?" his conscience argued. "You're only staying for a year, Professor Dumbledore won't mind if you start a relationship with an incredible girl. And besides, it's her last year too. Nobody will care! Go for it!"
"No, no, no!" the squealy voice shrilled. "If it IS the last year, you can wait, right? You don't want to get fired. If she really likes you too, she'll hold on. You can wait, too."
"You're right," Oliver said out loud. "I can wait. Although it will be a VERY long wait…I'll be patient. Somehow. Anyhow."
Hermione walked towards the Gryffindor common room, all alone yet again. "Harry and Ron must've gotten way ahead of me during the time when I almost fell," Hermione thought, walking up a flight of steps, carefully avoiding the second step which always fell. "Man, Oliver's so nice. He seems to understand my thoughts, my feelings, and respect me because of it. But…even though it's sad…I mustn't get involved with him. It'll cause a riot, a ciaos with my friends, fellow students…and the professors…"
"MISS GRANGER! Halt!" a greasy voice yelled.
Hermione gulped and stood still. "I can't get caught, not now…" she thought. She turned around.
Professor Snape, greasy from head to toe, looked furious. "Why are you wandering the halls at night, Miss Granger? Especially unaccompanied. I thought you'd have one of your boyfriends, Potter or Weasley, to protect you." His upper lip curled into what was unmistakably a mischievous smile.
"I was coming back…back from dinner," Hermione said as an excuse, although knowing it was incredibly lame.
"Dinner ended over 5 hours ago, Miss Granger," Snape said, laughing under his breath. "Clearly that hit on the head did more damage than reported. Surely, you haven't lost all your intelligence? For that would be a shame. Then I won't have an annoying little brat raising her hand every 2 seconds screaming, 'I know the answer! I know the answer!'…and I'll miss that, EXTREMELY!"
Hermione gulped, and felt like running away, but her feet stay glued to the floor.
"Obviously, you must think that because you're injured, that people will feel sorry for you. Well, let me tell you Miss Granger, that you obviously thought wrong. 50 points from Gryffindor, and if I catch you wandering the halls again it will be 100."
"Enough, Snape," a Scottish voice said. Snape twirled around, face-to-face with Oliver. It was hard to tell which face showed more anger. "Miss Granger was not feeling well because of some offending words by Mr Malfoy, and she was talking to me about it."
"She was talking to you about it for 5 hours?" Snape snapped, his upper lip twisting in every direction with hate.
"Mr Potter and Mr Weasley stopped by as they were searching for her," Oliver explained, talking very calmly as though determined to show how a real professor should act. "We were all chatting for a while."
"And why are Mr Potter and Mr Weasley not walking beside her back to the Gryffindor Common Room?" Snape asked brightly.
"They ran out in a hurry after a while, realising that they had not completed their, uh…Wizard Chess game," Oliver said, making up an excuse. Like Hermione, Oliver knew that Snape would take off even more points if they realised that they had not complete their homework.
"I see," Snape hissed, looking terribly angry. "All right, 50 points to Gryffindor. But…" he added, as a warning, "if I see you in the halls again, I will give you a detention."
He twirled out of site, his robes flying behind him.
Hermione sighed with a great amount of relief. "Thanks, Oliver…I love, I mean…owe you."
"That you do," Oliver said, grinning. "I didn't want you to get in trouble because of me."
"Well, thanks again," Hermione said. Her face was turning a light shade of pink though no one noticed, as it was very dark in the hallways. "Good night."
"Good night," he breathed, heading back to his office.
Hermione sighed again. She had lots of strange thoughts inside her mind, and it was getting hard to keep control of them. Her most immediate thought was about Oliver. He seemed to be her bodyguard. He comforted Hermione, protected her from Snape, and respected her.
She walked into the Gryffindor common room, wishing that more people respected her (even though they should already respect her as she's Head Girl). She noticed Harry and Ron hunched over bottles of ink and rolls of parchment, trying to figure out how to star their Potions essay. She said goodnight and huddled into bed, trying to get all of her thoughts out of her mind.
"There's only two things for sure," Hermione decided as she lay her head on the pillow. "Oliver isn't your average wizard either. And, Malfoy is a real arse!"
****************************************************************
Here's Chapter 6! I haven't had a lot of homework lately so I've been able to finish a new chapter ever day, but I'm expecting a lot of tests this week, so don't expect Chapter 7 to be up 'til this Thursday or Friday, okay? And I know that in the description of this story that it said Harry's with Cho and I haven't really mentioned it, but in Chapter 7 I'll start getting into it, okay?
Juvenus – Thanks for the compliment! I'm blushing (seriously)! I like your stories as well, so to get a compliment from a good writer really makes me feel inspired!
blackroseangel69 – Do you like all the fluffiness? Because, although it seems like it'll last forever, it won't! Duhn, duhn, duhn! *lol*
"I'm not the average girl from your video,
And I ain't built like a supermodel,
But I learn to love myself unconditionally,
Because I am a queen.
I'm not your average girl from the video,
My work is not determined by the price of my clothes.
No matter what I'm wearing I will always be,
India.Arie"
- "Video" by India.Arie
Hermione strutted down the hallways, Oliver by her side. She didn't know why, but every time he was near, she felt protected and safe. She turned to walk inside the great hall, and as she did, all of the tables erupted with murmurs and gasps. Oliver stood in front of her and whispered, "Thank you for saving my life. I owe you," and walked away, leaving Hermione alone. She walked towards the Gryffindor table, noticing Ron and Harry chatting away, seeming very worried.
"I hope she'll be okay," Ron said, not touching anything on the plates surrounding him. "If not, we'll never be the same."
"Yeah, and I'll never get a chance to say goodbye," Harry said miserably, also not touching anything.
"But you will get a chance to say hello," Hermione told them, sitting down between them. They both jumped, and Ron finally smiled.
"Hermione! We thought you were dead!" Ron exclaimed, hugging her.
"For a second, I thought I was too," Hermione explained.
"So, what did Madam Pomfrey say?" Harry asked, putting some mashed potatoes in his mouth, and as he did, he sighed gratefully, as though he hadn't had a bite in days.
"She said that sometimes I'll…I'll have difficulty thinking clearly, and sometimes I'll think preposterous things," Hermione said, eating some salad and taking a huge gulp of pumpkin juice. "But, other than…other than that, I'll be okay. I'll, I'll get better as the days go on."
"That's good…" Ron said, though he still look worried.
"Where's Wood?" Harry asked, clearing the odd silence that just occurred.
"He accompanied me to the Great Hall," Hermione explained, realising that Harry and Ron were too busy chatting before to notice Hermione and Oliver's entrance. "He woke up this morning, then yelled something about his Quidditch class, then fainted again." She smiled. "He'll be fine though."
"Great!" Ron cried. They continued the rest of the dinner in silence, although Ron and Harry did give occasional hugs.
After dinner, they exited the great hall, chatting about the homework that was assigned. Hermione groaned. "We had an essay assigned? I'll have to talk to Professor McGonagull about handing it in."
"Don't worry, it's not due 'til next Thursday," Harry assured her.
Hermione hit her head. "Oh, I forgot my glasses!" She turned around, and headed into the great hall again. "You guys go on without me!"
"Since when does she have glasses?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. "I guess it's one of those preposterous things she's thinking," Harry said. They turned around and went up the steps, taking Hermione's advice.
It took a while for Hermione to realise that she didn't have glasses. She hit her head again, and turned to go to the Gryffindor Tower alone, but she found she wasn't alone.
"Hello, Granger," said a hissing voice behind her. Hermione turned around, finding Malfoy facing her. "I heard you got hit in the head by Weasley's club. Are you all right?"
Hermione stood there, stunned. "Why is Malfoy so concerned about my health?" she thought. Then, realising that she looked immensely stupid just standing there, she nodded.
"I hope that hit on the head helped," Malfoy continued, circling her 'round and 'round. "Maybe it got rid of all that cleverness."
"Why would…would you want me to get rid of all my cleverness?" she asked.
"So, then you'll realise that all you need in life is a nice, handsome boy," Malfoy replied. "Like me. Maybe you've finally realised that a nice, handsome boy like myself would make you have a good life."
"The only thing that I've finally realised, Malfoy," Hermione began, her confidence building, "Is that you're a downright arse, and I would never want to go out with you." She turned on her heel and walked out of the great hall with rage.
"Well then I realised something too!" Malfoy spat after her. "That I made a total mistake by asking a MUDBLOOD to go out with me!"
Hermione's eyes swelled up with tears. She felt hot salty water running down her cheeks and splashing her robes. She had no idea where she was going, nor did she care. She opened several doors, all of them were empty. She crossed many corridors filled with silence; rage filled her head, her limbs, her heart. She couldn't believe Malfoy. She opened another door. She didn't know if it was empty or not, but she just wanted a place to rest since she was very tired; she had been roaming the school miserably for over an hour. She flung herself onto a chair, and wept soberly.
She covered her eyes and crossed her arms, and felt tears falling onto her hands. "Why is he so mean?" she asked out loud.
"Who?" a voice said.
Hermione jumped and wiped her eyes. She looked to her right, and saw Oliver shining broomsticks at his desk. She was in his office.
"Oh, Oliver! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to intrude…"
"No need to apologize," Oliver said, continuing to shine a broom. "My office is always left unopened in case someone needs help. That's the way I am. And, you, Hermione, seem to need help. What's the matter? Who's being mean?"
"I…I…I…" She couldn't remember. She scratched her head and felt like sobbing again, but she didn't even remember why she was sobbing in the first place. "Malfoy," she finally croaked. "Draco Malfoy."
"That arse?" he said, putting the broom down. His ears turned red. "Pardon me for my inappropriate use of language…"
"It's…it's all right," Hermione giggled. She noticed that Oliver was obviously working hard to be a professor, but she wanted him to know that he could act normal around her.
"Oh…what did he do?" Oliver asked.
Hermione explained the whole ordeal. Malfoy asking if she was hurt, her nodding in respond. Him saying that he hoped she got rid of her intelligence, her asking why did he hope that.
"And that he said 'maybe you've finally realised that all you need in life is a nice, handsome boy. Like me.'" Hermione told him, as Oliver sat in the chair beside her, his hand upon hers as a sign of comfort. "And I told him, 'The thing that I've finally realised is how much of an arse you are' and I walked away and he said he just realised that it was a total mistake to ask a mudblood like me out. Is that all I am? A mudblood?"
"No, Hermione," Oliver responded, looking very hurt as he looked at the appearance on her face. "You're not a mudblood. Malfoy, he's just a racist boy who doesn't care about anybody except himself and his own needs. You're not a mudblood. You're a witch. In fact, you're not an average witch. You're very talented. I heard you got 528 percent on your Arithmacy test in Grade 6, and that's something you should be very proud of. You shouldn't take this "mudblood" nonsense crap anymore. Just throw it out the window. Only care about yourself and the people around you who care about you."
"Like you?" Hermione asked, tears still streaming down her face.
"Yes," he assured her. "Like me."
"Thanks…thanks, Oliver," Hermione thanked, wiping her final tear off of her cheek. "You're very kind."
"Hey, I said I owed you one from saving my life," Oliver told her, chuckling. "I guess we're even. Well, not quite…saving my life is much more larger than just comforting someone when they're sad."
"No," she told him. "We're even…What's that broom on your desk?" she asked, eager to change the subject.
"Firebolt 450," Oliver said, smiling proudly. "I took your advice, and Which Broomstick?'s advice, and I got one. It looks much better than a Twister. And with the safety precautions, I don't think I'll ever get in an accident again!"
Hermione laughed. "And what about your Twister? Where are you going to do with that?"
"I'm donating it to the school," he explained, sitting back at his desk and polishing his broomstick, although there was no need. The Firebolt 450 was so shiny and marvellous it appeared as though it was made of gold. "Although it's not the safest thing in the world, it's very good. Second best, compared to the Firebolt 450, I think."
They talked for hours, maybe even more. Hermione knew that she had homework to do (although it took quite a while for her to remember), but she didn't care. Talking with Oliver was a joy – he seemed to understand what she was thinking, and he respected her deeply. Suddenly, an interruption occurred.
"HERMIONE? Oy! Hermione, are you there?" a voice echoed through the halls.
"I'm in here!" Hermione shouted back.
"Who's that?" Oliver asked, putting his Firebolt away.
"Ron – can't you tell?" Hermione responded.
Ron and Harry bolted through the office, spotting Hermione, then Oliver. Oliver, then Hermione.
"Hermione, we were looking all over the place for you!" Harry exclaimed, sitting on the arm of Hermione's chair.
"A third-year girl said she saw you arguing with Malfoy and then speeding off towards the fifth floor," Ron explained.
"Are you all right?" they both asked at the same time.
"I'm fine, I'm…I'm fine," Hermione told them. "I was talking to Oliver here," she gestured towards Oliver, who smiled, "and he helped me."
"You got a nasty bruise above your eye, Wood," Harry said.
"Yeah, I'll be fine though," Oliver insisted.
"Why didn't you talk to us first?" Ron asked jealously, ignoring Harry and Oliver's friendly chat.
"Sorry, I was in a daze," she said. "I didn't know where I was going, and after…after a while I was immensely tired, and felt like I should rest. Unfortunately, I broke into an office and sat on a chair that wasn't my own. Fortunately, it was Oliver's chair, and he helped me and...and...and calmed me down."
"Thanks, Oliver," Harry grinned. "Thanks for helping her."
Ron looked towards Oliver with great hate. "You should've come to us, though, Hermione! Why didn't you?"
"She already explained why, Ron! Calm yourself down!" Harry told him. "Don't get her upset again!"
"I'm sorry if I stole your duties of being a friend for a moment, Ron," Oliver apologized, locking his storage cabinet. "I didn't mean to. But Hermione came into my office, although I'm sure she didn't realise it at first, and I just calmed her down. Please don't take it offensively. Hey, do you want a cup of tea?"
The group talked for hours. Ron finally got over Oliver's chat with Hermione, and they were all chatting excitedly about Quidditch, N.E.W.Ts, and the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
"I wish it wasn't every five years," Ron moaned, regarding the Tri-Wizard Tournament. "Then I could join this year and have fun!"
"I would definitely NOT like to do that again," Harry said, sipping his tea.
"You wouldn't," Hermione agreed, setting her cup down on the round table in the middle of their chairs. "You almost got…got killed last time."
"I almost got killed THREE times, Hermione," Harry said, although he laughed. "THREE times…man…how do I get out of all these tough situations?"
"It's because you're brave," Oliver told him, taking lemon out of his tea. "Without courage, you'll find yourself rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. But, that's also because of lack of intelligence." He looked at Hermione, then at Harry, and finally at Ron. "It's no wonder you three are friends. Harry – the brave one. Hermione – the intelligent one. Ron – the skilled, and funny, one. You are always stick together, even after a huge argument, and I'm jealous. I never had friends like that at Hogwarts, although I could depend on my Quidditch team." He sighed. "Well, you three, I think you should head back to the Gryffindor Tower…it's half past 11."
"HALF PAST ELEVEN?" Ron yelled, pouring his tea all over the chair. Hermione yelled, "RON!" by Oliver fixed the stain with a flick of his wand.
"Yeah," Oliver laughed. "Half past eleven."
"I'm never going to finish my Potions essay now!" Ron said. He hurried out of the room after muttering a farewell, moaning and groaning along the way.
"You're lucky you missed today's class, Hermione," Harry said, standing at the door. "Thanks for the tea, Oliver. Delicious!"
"Any time, little man," Oliver said, laughing as Harry, too, rushed out of sight. "They're VERY funny…"
"Sometimes…sometimes embarrassing though," Hermione added, sipping the last of her tea. "Thanks, thanks for helping me, Oliver."
"It's all right, Hermione," Oliver repeated again. "If I haven't told you once I've told you a thousand times – I owed you. We're even." He grinned the grin that made Hermione go weak in the knees.
"Yeah, but…but still – thank you," Hermione said. She set her teacup down and stood up. "I like your new broom. Perhaps, some…some day you'll teach me how to fly it, and I'll ride it all day." She turned a nasty shade of crimson, and burst out laughing.
Oliver began to laugh as well. His grin multiplied, and his chuckles echoed in Hermione's ears. She couldn't take it. Her knees began to bend, and her along with it. She came stumbling down, feeling like she was about to throw up. She tried to regain her balance, but it was no use, unless Oliver Wood came to her rescue. And he did. He grabbed onto her arms, her face 3 inches from the ground. He pulled her up and made her rest her head upon his shoulder.
"Thanks, Oliver," Hermione thanked again, as she let go. "You didn't have to."
"It's all right, Hermione," Oliver repeated yet again. He laughed. "I didn't want you to get a nasty bruise like I did on my face. You could've hit your head very hard on the floor, and I didn't want you to."
"Good night, Oliver," Hermione said, ready to close the door.
"Good night, Hermione," Oliver replied, watching her walk out.
Oliver sat down again, overcome with a wave of emotions. He retraced his conversation before Harry and Ron arrived, and remembered saying something about not being an average witch. "Boy, was I right," he thought, as he rechecked his notes for tomorrow's class. "She isn't an average witch. She's amazing."
"No!" a voice squealed in the back of his head. "You mustn't get involved. You're a professor –she's a student. This will not go well. You could get fired."
"Why not?" his conscience argued. "You're only staying for a year, Professor Dumbledore won't mind if you start a relationship with an incredible girl. And besides, it's her last year too. Nobody will care! Go for it!"
"No, no, no!" the squealy voice shrilled. "If it IS the last year, you can wait, right? You don't want to get fired. If she really likes you too, she'll hold on. You can wait, too."
"You're right," Oliver said out loud. "I can wait. Although it will be a VERY long wait…I'll be patient. Somehow. Anyhow."
Hermione walked towards the Gryffindor common room, all alone yet again. "Harry and Ron must've gotten way ahead of me during the time when I almost fell," Hermione thought, walking up a flight of steps, carefully avoiding the second step which always fell. "Man, Oliver's so nice. He seems to understand my thoughts, my feelings, and respect me because of it. But…even though it's sad…I mustn't get involved with him. It'll cause a riot, a ciaos with my friends, fellow students…and the professors…"
"MISS GRANGER! Halt!" a greasy voice yelled.
Hermione gulped and stood still. "I can't get caught, not now…" she thought. She turned around.
Professor Snape, greasy from head to toe, looked furious. "Why are you wandering the halls at night, Miss Granger? Especially unaccompanied. I thought you'd have one of your boyfriends, Potter or Weasley, to protect you." His upper lip curled into what was unmistakably a mischievous smile.
"I was coming back…back from dinner," Hermione said as an excuse, although knowing it was incredibly lame.
"Dinner ended over 5 hours ago, Miss Granger," Snape said, laughing under his breath. "Clearly that hit on the head did more damage than reported. Surely, you haven't lost all your intelligence? For that would be a shame. Then I won't have an annoying little brat raising her hand every 2 seconds screaming, 'I know the answer! I know the answer!'…and I'll miss that, EXTREMELY!"
Hermione gulped, and felt like running away, but her feet stay glued to the floor.
"Obviously, you must think that because you're injured, that people will feel sorry for you. Well, let me tell you Miss Granger, that you obviously thought wrong. 50 points from Gryffindor, and if I catch you wandering the halls again it will be 100."
"Enough, Snape," a Scottish voice said. Snape twirled around, face-to-face with Oliver. It was hard to tell which face showed more anger. "Miss Granger was not feeling well because of some offending words by Mr Malfoy, and she was talking to me about it."
"She was talking to you about it for 5 hours?" Snape snapped, his upper lip twisting in every direction with hate.
"Mr Potter and Mr Weasley stopped by as they were searching for her," Oliver explained, talking very calmly as though determined to show how a real professor should act. "We were all chatting for a while."
"And why are Mr Potter and Mr Weasley not walking beside her back to the Gryffindor Common Room?" Snape asked brightly.
"They ran out in a hurry after a while, realising that they had not completed their, uh…Wizard Chess game," Oliver said, making up an excuse. Like Hermione, Oliver knew that Snape would take off even more points if they realised that they had not complete their homework.
"I see," Snape hissed, looking terribly angry. "All right, 50 points to Gryffindor. But…" he added, as a warning, "if I see you in the halls again, I will give you a detention."
He twirled out of site, his robes flying behind him.
Hermione sighed with a great amount of relief. "Thanks, Oliver…I love, I mean…owe you."
"That you do," Oliver said, grinning. "I didn't want you to get in trouble because of me."
"Well, thanks again," Hermione said. Her face was turning a light shade of pink though no one noticed, as it was very dark in the hallways. "Good night."
"Good night," he breathed, heading back to his office.
Hermione sighed again. She had lots of strange thoughts inside her mind, and it was getting hard to keep control of them. Her most immediate thought was about Oliver. He seemed to be her bodyguard. He comforted Hermione, protected her from Snape, and respected her.
She walked into the Gryffindor common room, wishing that more people respected her (even though they should already respect her as she's Head Girl). She noticed Harry and Ron hunched over bottles of ink and rolls of parchment, trying to figure out how to star their Potions essay. She said goodnight and huddled into bed, trying to get all of her thoughts out of her mind.
"There's only two things for sure," Hermione decided as she lay her head on the pillow. "Oliver isn't your average wizard either. And, Malfoy is a real arse!"
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Here's Chapter 6! I haven't had a lot of homework lately so I've been able to finish a new chapter ever day, but I'm expecting a lot of tests this week, so don't expect Chapter 7 to be up 'til this Thursday or Friday, okay? And I know that in the description of this story that it said Harry's with Cho and I haven't really mentioned it, but in Chapter 7 I'll start getting into it, okay?
Juvenus – Thanks for the compliment! I'm blushing (seriously)! I like your stories as well, so to get a compliment from a good writer really makes me feel inspired!
blackroseangel69 – Do you like all the fluffiness? Because, although it seems like it'll last forever, it won't! Duhn, duhn, duhn! *lol*