For disclaimer  please see chapter 01.

A/N: I'm incredibly sorry for the lack of updates, but real life had gripped me tightly in its claws and there was just no escape until now. Anyway, I thank you all for your wonderful comments and support. It means so much to me. Virtual schnoogles to all of you! :-)

Noooow – let's get the story rolling, shall we? ;-)

~*~*~*~

The small pub where Oliver led Hermione to was located a bit aside from the energetic hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley but still close enough to the busy street to make one feel part of the action. Inside the pub, which was miraculously well-ventilated, the cheerful chattering of wizards and witches of every age filled the air, along with the clattering of dishes, the smell of food and – every now and again – the sound of explosions from the kitchen.

"So," Oliver said with beaming eyes, "Here I was – on the one side there was this Beater with a Bludger while on the other side a Chaser approached with the Quaffle. It was only evade and let them score or – keep your post and get hit." He gesticulated enthusiastically, pointing to the Quidditch-field he had created with the help of various dishes, two forks and a spoon ("These are the goalposts, Hermione!"), a saltcellar and everything else the young Keeper could get his hands on. However, all this did nothing to increase Hermione's understanding of the mystery that was Quidditch. On the other hand, although Oliver could have easily spoken in a different language, she did enjoy herself by simply watching him. Wood's eyes were ablaze with life, sparkling in excitement as he recalled - doubtlessly fascinating – moves he had blocked as a Keeper. Every now and then she would nod in agreement and gasp in what she hoped were the right places, then go back to watching him blissfully.

"Well?" Oliver looked at her with big eyes, obviously awaiting an answer. Hermione swallowed nervously. Just what exactly had he been talking about?

"Um…," she said intelligently, "That's really impressing. Really. Wow!"

Oliver's grin deepened. "You really think so? You're not just saying it?"

"No, honestly!" Hermione improvised, "I didn't think that was possible!"

At that point Oliver's self-restraint failed him and the brunette Keeper dissolved into a fit of helpless laughter.

`Oops,´ Hermione thought. `Obviously that was the wrong answer.´

"Hermione," he gasped, "I just said that Professor Snape and Flitwick invaded the Quidditch pitch clad only in pink bikinis, demanding to eat the Quaffle!" He wiped a few tears of mirth out of his eyes. "You didn't understand a word of what I've said, did you?"

Hermione smiled guiltily. "Actually, no," she admitted sheepishly, "But has anybody ever told you that you have an utterly fascinating way of re-telling things? I don't think I've ever seen anyone live their narration like you do."

"Well, thank you, I guess. Most people get scared as soon as I say the word Quidditch´." He thought for a short moment. "Except for my team-mates, of course; But they're obsessed with the sport!"

"While you're not?" Hermione inquired with amusement while Oliver raised his hands defensively, looking like a picture of  innocence.

"Of course not! I'm just…thoroughly focused."

Hermione snorted in a most unlady-like manner. "So that's what they call it these days."

"Well, yes," Oliver smiled, "You know how they say that every generation has…"

A sharp scream put a sudden halt to their conversation as the pub exploded into panic. People exchanged worried glances and already cries of "It's them! The Death Eaters!" could be heard. Wizards warily reached for their wands and pointed them at random objects while the initial screaming was now joined by a second voice. (1)

"What the –?" Hermoine's brows knit together as years of being part of the Trio Infernale - as she, Ron and Harry had been called lately -  paid off and she shot up from her seat, wand held tightly in her hand. "Stay here," the petite woman commanded in a brusque tone and turned to investigate. However, she was held back by Oliver's firm grip on her arm.

"Lead on, but don't expect me to leave you alone," he said, excitement enhancing the Keeper's Scottish accent. His eyes held hers for a short moment and Hermione accepted that arguing with him would only waste precious time.

"The scream came from the kitchen, didn't it?" she inquired instead.

"Guess so," Oliver nodded and guided her through the raging and jostling crowd.

~*~*~

Todd Barrett stood amid the centre of chaos that had previously been the kitchen of his peaceful pub. The cook, a middle-aged witch by the name of Polly Graham, still stood trembling on the very spot where she had been when an earth-shattering scream had erupted from her lungs. Her cheeks were pale with a few red spots of distress while her eyes darted wildly around the kitchen, looking for…actually Todd didn't know what the poor woman was looking for.

"Alright everyone," he chocked in a strangled voice, "Does anybody have an idea how this…corpse…got into the refrigerator?"

Polly let out a sob while customers were pushing their way into the kitchen, morbidly curious about what had caused the commotion. Todd gulped back the bitter taste in his mouth and pushed them back. "There's nothing to see here," he roared in a voice that somehow sounded more secure than he felt. "Please get back to your tables! Everything's safe and – Oliver!" Todd's face broke into a relieved smile as he spotted the familiar face.

"Todd!" the burly young man pushed another bystander aside while waving a hand at his friend. "Todd! Over here! Let us through!"

Todd did just that and a few moments later Oliver Wood, reserve Keeper and trouble magnet extraordinaire, managed to lock the kitchen door firmly in front of the curious customers while Hermione examined the content of the large refrigerator with a look of clinical detachment on her face. "Herm-?" Oliver started, worried that the delicate-looking young woman might be under shock, but was interrupted by her.

"Has anybody called in the Aurors? I believe this is a job for them," she stated firmly," Oh! And we should better close the refrigerator-door otherwise the ice will melt and evidence might be destroyed. We should also list up everyone who has touched the fridge so far and …Oliver? Are you feeling well?"

He nodded feebly, fighting down the waves of heat and nausea that shot through his body as realization of what had happened slowly set in. Here he had been trying to get re-acquainted to an old school friend (who had incidentally turned into an attractive young lady) and ended up involved in a murder case. Oliver shook his head. When had his life become so complicated? Why was this schoolgirl so calm? And why was she trembling? And spinning around? For that matter, why was the whole room spinning? So fast…

~*~*~

Oliver awoke to the touch of something cool and smooth on his forehead. It felt…nice. Carefully he opened his eyes, then shut them quickly again as bright sunlight blinded him. Involuntarily he let out a low moan.

"Do you feel a bit better?" a concerned voice broke through his cloudy thoughts and the cool something on his head moved away. `No,´ he protested inwardly, `Don't leave just yet.´

"Oliver," the voice insisted, "how do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by a couple of mad Bludgers," he groaned, oblivious of the amused smile the other person wore as she listened to his thick accent. "Really, really mad Bludgers," he added for emphasis and ventured to open his eyes once more.

"There," Hermione smiled, "it's not so bad now, is it? Try to drink something." She held out a glass of water which he took gratefully.

"What happened?" Oliver asked between careful sips.

"You fainted," came the dry reply.

"I did not."

"You did. Actually you fell right on top of…" Hermione stopped and blushed. Then her smile became soft and understanding. "It's o.k., Oliver. Really. You've never seen a dead person before, have you?"

Quietly he shook his head, then fought down the resulting dizziness. "No, but you have, don't you?"

Hermione nodded sadly, obviously lost in a swirl of memories. "Yes. You can't be a friend of Harry and not get dragged into this…mess."

Oliver felt a sudden sharp pang of regret for the boy-who-lived and his close friends. He had never really given a thought to the kind of tragedies they had to face every since their first year. Quietly he took Hermione's hand and squeezed it gently.

She gave him a watery smile before getting up in a whoosh of nervous energy. "Anyway," Hermione informed the young Scotsman as she paced trough the room, "a couple of Aurors arrived shortly after you passed out and shut the area off from the public. Your friend Todd  Barrett and the employees have been sent up here to wait for their turn to get interrogated and – it's really very practical that Todd also owns the little inn over the pub, isn't it? How do you know him, anyway? I bet you know a lot of interesting people, being a famous Quidditch player and all and I've actually been to the World Cup once back in…"

"Hermione."

"No really, right before my fourth year. It was –"

"Hermione!"

"And there were all these stupid Veelas and did I ever mention how utterly annoying they are? Ron was totally –"

"HERMIONE!"

She stopped and gave Oliver a wide-eyed look. "Yes?"

"You're babbling."

"Am not."

Oliver barely suppressed a smile as he reached for her hands once more as soon as she came into relatively close proximity again. "Yes, you are, Hermione."

"I –" she sat down next to the Keeper, "It's really odd, you know. I keep my cool in the middle of a crisis, but as soon as it's over…I just…start feeling everything I should have felt during the crisis in the first place? Like `retard-feelings´ or something." She gave a dry laugh that might as well have been a sob and Oliver felt a surge of protectiveness. So she wasn't as hard and unfeeling as he had thought down in the kitchen. She merely dealt with it in her own unique way. How utterly fascinating.

"So," Hermione finally broke the silence, "what now?"

A knock on the door decided that question for them.

~*~*~*~

Next chapter: Two familiar characters make their way into the story as the Aurors who are investigating the case. The Order of the Phoenix gets involved, Hermione learns about a special talent of Olivers' and Harry remains blissfully ignorant.

I hope I'll be able to update next weekend. Till then – have a nice week! :-)

(1) You might ask yourself at this point why a simple scream sends a room full of wizards into a full-blown panic. Well, this story takes place in a time when Voldemort's reign of terror has reached a new high and the Wizarding World has finally accepted his existence. People are terrified and paranoid, so that every trivial thing can catalyse an explosion of panic. However, as it turns out this chapter, the "thing" is not so trivial after all. – odyssey :-)