Hermione woke the next morning in a groggy state of happiness. Images flitted across her mind of last night: Oliver, gently bracing her against his strong arms, Oliver, gently kissing here, Oliver, face full of emotion, herself switching off the lights, and Oliver, his lips so soft against hers…

She was warm, and realized that her back was rested against his front, his left arm slung over her waist. They were still in the floor, but it wasn't uncomfortable: in fact, Hermione would argue it was one of the most comfortable nights of her life. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling against her back, and she smiled. She felt a great happiness swell inside of her, like a giant balloon, pressing against her ribs, her heart, her throat, threatening to explode. She was so in love!

But Hermione suddenly sat up, as if she had been scalded. She looked around… yes, that was Oliver's shirt, she remembered taking that off herself… there was her shirt, but she still had a camisole on… then she looked down, and almost laughed in relief when she realized she still had her clothes on. So they hadn't had sex last night, Hermione thought, with a mixture of disappointment and relief. Hmm. Well, at least it proved you could fall in love and have a passionate time without doing it.

Oliver was now awake, and was looking at her, his head in one hand, with a wry smile on his face.

"What's the matter?" he said, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her down next to him.

"Nothing," Hermione said, beginning to blush. "I'm just… I dunno. Happy? Relieved?"

"What, that we didn't have sex?" he asked, smiling good naturedly. Hermione flushed a deep red.

"Well, yeah," she said, refusing to meet his eye. But she was smiling, too.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" he asked seriously. She looked at him.

"Yes, actually. Are you?"

"No," he said pensively. He suddenly seemed sullen. Hermione couldn't help but feel a small stab of jealousy. "But they didn't mean anything. I guess I was looking for what I feel like when I'm with you."

The happiness returned, spreading through Hermione and making her almost lightheaded. "I've done enough," she said pensively, running her hand absentmindedly along his chest, nothing its smoothness. "But I just don't think I'm ready, just emotionally, for it. That, and I never really met many guys outside of Harry and Ron."

"Well, I guess I'll just be gentle then," he said jokingly, grabbing her hand and slapping her palm. She laughed.

"I love you, Hermione," Oliver said seriously, her head nestled in the curve of his throat.

"I never knew what love was until I met you," she replied.

"I think I thought, many times, that I had found love," Oliver continued, musing. "But I was searching for all the wrong reasons."

Just then, a knock came from the door.

"I'll get it," Oliver said, rolling over and brushing his lips across Hermione's before pushing himself up and answering the door. He didn't bother grabbing a robe, and Hermione savored the view of his well-muscled back.

"Breakfast, sir," came the squeaky voice of the Romanov's house elf. "Master thought that you would most likely prefer breakfast in your room, sir." Hermione blushed again at hearing this, and Oliver watched in amusement as the elf wheeled in a small, ornate cart with absolutely nothing on it. The door snapped shut behind the elf, and Oliver bounded over to Hermione, picked her up, and slung her over his shoulders.

"Hey!" she said, laughing. "Stop it!" He dumped her on the bed and pulled the cart up to her. He smiled widely at her.

"You sure are playful," Hermione said, smiling. Oliver's smile was infectious. He sat down across from her.

"I used to be like this all the time," he said jovially. "Now, look straight at the cart, and tell it what you want for breakfast."

"Oh… ummm… well…" The cart suddenly rattled violently, and Oliver began laughing.

"It can't process that," he said. "Try again." Hermione giggled, and said "Chocolate chip pancakes, and milk." The food immediately appeared on top of the cart, hot and steaming, and Hermione couldn't help but feel impressed in spite of herself.

"I wonder if I could get Mum and Dad one of these…" she mused, looking underneath the cart. Oliver laughed again, his great, booming laugh. Hermione liked his laugh, and was pretty sure he hadn't laughed like that in a while.

And then, they both ate their first meal together, finally acknowledging and surrendering to their feelings, walking the path of destiny they were both to share.

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They Apparated back to Hogwarts after breakfast, first saying good bye to the family. However, Hermione wasn't too sad about leaving. She got the shivers every time she walked past Romanov's office.

Oliver left her in his office with a quick hug, saying he needed to talk to Dumbledore. Hermione just seemed to realize that he no longer walked around with a sling on his arm, but that he still held it gingerly at his side whenever he walked.

Hermione stood in his masculine, slightly messy office and couldn't help but smile brightly. She took off the sweater she was wearing and tossed it over a clawed chair and walked over to his large wall of books. Hermione ran her fingers along many of the spines, walking slowly and delighting in the books she found. She spent about twenty minutes musing over the books, wondering how Oliver could have amassed such a wonderful collection.

But then Hermione realized she wanted to see Harry and Ron. Even though she had only been apart from them for less than two days, she missed Harry's other-worldly intelligence and Ron's laughable ignorance. So, grabbing her sack of overnight things, she opened the heavy door of Oliver's office and slipped outside.

"Well," a cold voice suddenly cut across the corridor, and Hermione suddenly froze. Shit. She turned around slowly, and came face-to-face with a smirking Malfoy.

"What are we doing here, Mudblood? Coming out of a certain Professor's office? With a nightbag, no less?" His eyes were cruel and laughing, and Hermione blushed a deep crimson, furiously meeting his eyes. She was painfully aware that Draco could see through the open door to her sweater hung over the back of Oliver's chair, and slammed the door shut.

"Actually, Malfoy, we were talking about Quidditch," she replied, her voice surprisingly even and firm. "And I happened to be coming back from a trip to visit my sick Auntie."

Malfoy's lip curled, and Hermione felt herself almost boiling with fury. "Listen, Malfoy, unless you want your mother to receive a very detailed letter about how I walked in on you shagging a Hufflepuff, I would wipe that smirk off your face." Draco suddenly paled, and now it was his turn to flush crimson.

"Granger, you don't know what you're messing with," Draco said vehemently, taking a step towards her.

"Of course I do," she said brightly. "I've cleaned up hippogriff dung in Hagrid's class before."

"Is there something wrong here?" came another curt voice from behind both of them. Without braking her glance with Draco, Hermione replied "Oh no, Professor McGonagall. Everything is just fine."

And it was, because whatever problems came her way, Hermione could now face them with Oliver.

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"Hermione! You're back!"

Hermione smiled as she entered the portrait hole of the Gryffindor common room, and was surprised when Ron bounded out of his seat to give her a hug. Harry followed suit, and Hermione beamed.

"How's your Auntie?" Ron asked, resuming his position on the couch in front of the fire.

"Better now, thanks," Hermione replied, dropping her stuff but a chair and collapsing in it. "Although I'm pretty damn tired."

"Well, you didn't miss much here," Ron said happily. "And now that you're back, I can copy that essay for Flitwick!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, then winked at Harry.

"Where is everyone?" Hermione asked, eyeing the almost empty common room. It was a Saturday, and usually there were more people milling around, either frantically trying to complete their homework or obstinately ignoring it. Both Harry and Ron fell in the latter category.

"Hogsmeade," Ron said, squinting at a Quidditch magazine he was reading. "But we went yesterday, so we're good."

"The cloak?"

"Yep," Harry said.

"Well, I guess we can to get back to normal," Ron said.

He didn't understand why Harry and Hermione both started laughing very loudly.

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A/N: Sorry for the wait! Hope you liked it. Next chapter (and plot turn) coming soon.

Faith