Hermione sometimes heard that when one became mad, one should calmly channel the energy intro useful power. Like a flood, the anger should be forcefully and yet gently pushed by the mind into a softly flowing stream, which tinkled serenely and ambled peacefully, soothing agitated nerves and calming any angry impulses…

Oh, to hell with that… Hermione thought irritably… I'd like to stuff some particularly nasty hippogriff dung down the throat of whoever thought of that hogwash...

Hermione stomped angrily up the stairs to the girl's dormitory, still seething from her recent encounter with Draco Malfoy. Both the Head Girl and Head Boy had met to discuss Prefect duties, and both had come off hating each other even worse, if that were at all possible. Draco had favored a more totalitarian approach, where he would wield the power to control Prefect duties and other influential control, whereas Hermione favored a more democratic approach, where the Prefects could choose and distribute their own responsibilities.

In response, Draco had called her a lazy snob…

She had called him an arrogant weasel…

He called her a filthy Mudblood…

She had thrown a particularly heavy magical dictionary at him…

He had turned her hair a nasty shade of green (which she promptly changed)…

She kicked off her shoe, aiming at his face, and acted surprised when Draco accused her of doing it on purpose…

And he stormed off in a huff, whereas she sniffed, tossed her hair, and had stalked out, too insulted to even pick up the smattering of paper left on the Transfiguration table.

Still too angry to put together any coherent strings of thought, Hermione at least tried to stalk quietly through the girl's dormitory, not wanting to wake up Parvati and Lavender, who would no doubt wish to know all about exactly what it was Hermione wanted to forget. Irritably shoving aside the heavy book that Oliver had given to her (That's funny, I don't remember setting it on my bed) she grabbed a towel and headed to the bathroom to wash up before going to bed.

Emerging a few minutes later, slightly refreshed but none the happier, she sat down on her plush comforter, but almost immediately jumped up in surprise, for she had just sat on the exact same book she had moved!

Eyeing the book warily (for it was rather freakish of a book to move on it's own accord) Hermione suspiciously extended her finger and touched the leather bound cover quickly. When she was neither electrocuted, shocked, jolted, or put under any other painful circumstance, Hermione put both hands on the book, and almost jumped away in surprise, as the book she had just tried to pick up weighed as much as a large boulder! Funny, when Oliver had given it to her it had only weighed like a, well, book.

Hermione attempted to pry the cover open, and nearly fell over when it gave way easily. She had expected it to be impossible, and the force she exerted was enough to send her sprawling on the floor. Bouncing up quickly, Hermione looked around, heard Parvati and Lavender still snoring (miraculously), sniffed, and eyed the book again. It lay open on her bed, quite innocently if you asked Hermione, after all the fright it had just caused her.

The richly embossed inner cover of the book was now inscribed with flowing black handwriting, and as Hermione looked closely she read "To Hermione, with love."

Hermione's heart started pounding, because she knew that message was from Oliver, but almost instantly after that happy thought her stomach plummeted, when she realized Oliver hadn't really written that, and it was just a joke.

Slightly ashamed by her frivolity, Hermione sighed again and headed out the dormitory door, wishing that she could just fall asleep.

* * * * *

Hermione knocked on the door of Oliver's office, acutely aware that it was eleven o'clock at night, she was knocking on her professor's door, and was dressed in her pajamas. She was just thankful she hadn't put on her ducky p.j's.

Oliver opened the door, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw her.

"Hermione?"

"Yeah… I, um, got the note…"

"Right," Oliver said. It was dark in the hallways, and Oliver's face was alert, intelligent, and handsome. Hermione had to close her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she noticed Oliver was still looking at her intently. A fire gleamed from inside his office, and she noticed he didn't have his shirt on.

"Um, I really wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," he said. "But some to think of it, this is probably better… no one will see us. Hold on for a second."

Oliver disappeared for a brief moment, and reappeared, with a shirt on this time. Hermione didn't feel as nervous anymore.

"Sit down, sit down," he said, imitating Professor Flitwick. Hermione giggled softly, beginning to feel at ease. They sat across each other, and he was still gazing at her with a look on his face she couldn't place. Oliver waved his hand, and a door closed to Hermione's left.

"Where I sleep," Oliver said. "All teachers sleep in their offices. Well, actually there's a connecting room. But still, the board's pretty good here."

"So what did you need to tell me?"

"Oh, right," Oliver said, his eyes finally leaving her face. He was smiling. Hermione wondered what made him so happy.  "Well, I've just heard from Shacklebolt, and we're to use my connections, and your knowledge of, well… everything, to check out a man suspected of Dark activity."

"Who?"

"His name is Romanov."

"Russian?"

"Bulgarian."

"Well, they don't exactly breed law-abiding wizards there, do they? Although I heard the Muggles are pretty nice."

Oliver smiled again. "You just know everything, don't you? Well, this guy is the Secretary of the Bulgarian Ministry."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "That high up? Does their Prime Minister know?"

"No. The Order is conducting this separately from the Ministry, so Fudge doesn't know. And if we don't want Fudge to know, then we don't want their Prime Minister to know."

"Oh," said Hermione.

"How long will we be there?"

"Just for one night. Um, we'll be posing as a married couple."

"What?" Hermione asked, sitting up straighter in her chair.

"Yeah," Oliver said, also sitting up straighter. His eyes were sparkling, and his smile as wide as ever.

"Why are you smiling?"

"No reason."

"Okay then. So why will we be married?"

The smile slowly faded from Oliver's face, and any playfulness Hermione had been feeling slowly evaporated.

"The last time I talked to Romanov, I was engaged."

"Oh," Hermione said very softly. She gazed at him with wide eyes. "What happened?"

Right after she said it, Hermione knew she shouldn't have asked. "It's okay, you don't have to say anything…"

"Her name was Alex. And we were going to get married. I… loved her, once. But then she was killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, and I thought my life would be over. But then, I discovered some nasty little secrets indeed: Alex had been secretly working for Voldemort, and was killed by Bellatrix because she had aspirations of replacing Lestrange of second in charge. She was sent to marry me, in hopes it would avert me from a Prophecy."

"Good Lord," Hermine said softly. "I am so sorry."

But Oliver seemed to shake it off. "I've healed, to some extent. But don't think about it."

"Is the Prophecy you mentioned… uh, the same one that I'm involved in?" Hermione asked awkwardly.

"Yeah. But, like I said, don't worry about it. I still don't know what it's about."

Hermione brought her knees up to her chin, feeling suddenly very cold. The feeling of an unknown bond between her and Oliver intensified, and Hermione suddenly felt exhausted.

Maybe Oliver realized this, because he said "It's probably time for you to go. We can talk more tomorrow."

"Sure," Hermione said, standing up. Oliver stood up, and followed her to the door. He opened it for her, and before Hermione left she took a second to savor the closeness of their bodies. They were mere inches away from each other, and Hermione took a deep breath. He smelled clean, devoid of any cologne, but clean. It was nice.

But Mrs. Norris suddenly meowed from somewhere down the corridor, and Hermione jumped, startled.

"Bye," she said, smiling slightly at Oliver.

He smiled back.

"By the way," he said, as she was walking out. "Nice pajamas."

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Hope you like it.