Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! Really appreciative of them, that's for sure! This chapter will be fairly long as it's introducing several new (and important) characters, so bare with me!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the settings. This magical world is property of J.K. Rowling, with her incredible mind. I just own the plot!

Chapter Three - An Old Friend

"Don't turn back, now that we're here
People always say, life is full of choices
No one ever mentions fear!
Or how a road can seem so long,
How the world can seem so vast,
Courage see me through, heart I'm trusting you"
- "Journey to the Past" by Aaliyah

Hermione felt rather ill and incredibly full. Agnes and Clara, completely oblivious to her pleas that she wasn't hungry or thirsty, bought her a grand meal with croissants and pancakes as well as a few Butterbeers. "I have ... to meet with someone after lunch," she told her friends mysteriously as she held the mug of Butterbeer in her right hand absentmindedly. Agnes and Clara, who had decided to have a tad bit of alcohol in their own Butterbeers (to which Hermione kindly denied), merely giggled in response, barely being able to formulate a proper sentence.

"Of course, love," Agnes merely replied, as Tom walked by reminded them that they were to return to work soon and should pay for their bill.
"Wouldn't think otherwise!" Clara added in, hiccupping slightly.

It was with a disapproving look on her face that Hermione reminded them that they would have to return to work soon, and judging by their state of drunkenness, Shirley would most definitely not be impressed. They ignored this however and paid their bill (leaving much more of a tip than need necessary), and heaved Hermione up, an action which caused her to feel incredibly nauseous. They stumbled out of The Leaky Cauldron, not realizing that several witches and wizards around them were gasping in disgust, and Hermione took her wand out, lazily brushing in past the bricks that would once again release them into Diagon Alley.

With ten minutes to go before their lunch break ended, Hermione was hesitantly looking forward to her meeting with her new boss. She had only been to the 'entertainment' floor once, and had never even seen Eric before, so she had to admit she was feeling quite nervous. And ... quite unknowledgeable. Here she was to be a top-class Quidditch reporter, and even though her two best friends, Harry and Ron, were completely obsessed with the sport, Hermione couldn't say she shared the same fascination. She could almost visualize a situation, asking some Quidditch player if the had mastered the Wonky Feint. So as a light-bulb went off in her brilliant mind, with Agnes and Clara stumbling beside her, Hermione abruptly came to a halt.

"Oh dear!" she gasped suddenly, giving an anxious look towards Agnes and Clara. "I forgot my glasses! You guys go on ahead, I'll catch up later!" Without a word from her two friends, she quickly wheeled around and began to head in the direction of The Leaky Cauldron, leaving Agnes and Clara in their drunken trance.

"Since when does our Hermow-ninny own glasses?" Clara asked curiously, waving farewell to Hermione as she brushed past.
"Perhaps they're - (hic) - invisible specs!" Agnes replied, a slight cackle in her voice. With that, the two drunken witches wandered on.

Hiding behind a display of owl in their respectable cages, Hermione nervously bit her bottom lip as she watched Clara and Agnes with their tragic attempt to walk along the winding path to the Daily Prophet building. Once her friends were out of sight, Hermione briskly checked her watch before setting off at a run towards a nearby store -- Flourish & Blotts. As the bell clanked, a signal that she had entered the busy and rather cramped bookstore, she grinned softly as she peered over the spines and covers of numerous books (meanwhile clearly remembering which ones she owned and kept in her flat). She noticed a sign which read "Quidditch-Related Books" and decided it was the best place to look. Running her fingers over the spines of several books she suddenly heard a whisper in her ear. "Looking for something?"

Flinching in fright, Hermione quickly spun around to face the one who had spoken these words. Her eyes immediately focused on an attractive-looking man in his mid-twenties, a wild grin on his face that reached his sparkling but disturbing eyes which seemed to be the colour of deep red that were hidden slightly behind his curly brown hair. "Sorry to have frightened you, Hermione!" the man went on, his voice now returning to a normal volume. "Or should I call you Miss Granger? Or is it Mrs? I'm sorry, Shirley did not tell me too much as of yet! Or maybe I misplaced the file ..." The man trailed off, leaving Hermione with some quite confused thoughts rummaging through her mind.

Deciding to be polite instead of incredibly straight-forward she replied with, "Uh, Hermione is just fine, or Miss Granger if you'd prefer. I'm sorry, but ... who might you be?"

The man raised his eyebrows and had a short look of apology on his face before grinning once more. "Ah, my apologies! I am Eric, Eric Wanston. Your ... new 'boss', I believe! I usually browse around Diagon Alley during my own lunch period, and I thought that I might find you here since you are now to be a reporter and writer for the Quidditch department, am I correct?"

Hermione smiled, relieved that Eric wasn't a stalker-type wizard. "You are correct, Mr Wanston! I was just - uhh - beginning my research." Turning around, she grabbed the book she was eyeing - Quidditch Through the Ages. "I read this book when a student attending Hogwarts," she added in, "and it was a great help although I'm afraid not a lot of the information stuck." Immediately she regretted this statement - what if he thought her incapable of being a proper and presentable Quidditch writer?

"Splendid!" Eric exclaimed enthusiastically. "Wonderful; doing research on the first day, well done Her- Miss Granger." He paused for a moment, flashing her yet another one of his grins, then went on. "I was wondering - once if you've finished purchasing that delightful book of course - if you could ... get it started."

"Excuse me?" Hermione inquired, her eyes widened with confusion.

"I mean - your ... job of course," he answered quickly. "I know it's only your first day and in the next few days things will be going much more simpler and easier for you - but today I wanted you to become acquainted with those that you will be writing a report on. It's going to be ... an intense biography about a popular and professional Quidditch player. Jessica Lee - you will be meeting her tomorrow - is concentrating on a beater and a chaser, while you will be focusing on the positions of keeper and seeker. You do know what those are, correct?"

Mentally rolling her eyes, Hermione gave a nod. "I made not be an expert on Quidditch, but I have watched quite a few games!"

"Delightful!" Eric said. "Well, I want you to head to Sarquin Stadium - you just Apparate there, I'm sure it won't be difficult - Puddlemere United are practising there today, and you will be focusing on the keeper who's name is ... oh dear, it all slipped my mind. At least I remember the essential bits, huh?" He let out a rather high laugh for someone with such a low voice, and Hermione was momentarily caught off-guard. "Anyways, just get to know the keeper, introduce yourself, try to set up dates for interviews. Tomorrow, you will be heading to Sarquin Stadium once more at nine in the morning - the Falmouth Falcons are practising and you will get to know their seeker ... well, I've never been good with names. After you set up some more times and dates, head back to the office!"

This flood of information at first startled Hermione as much as the whisper in the ear, but she nodded confidently. Putting her hand in her pocket, she rummaged around for a few seconds before she took out a few sickles and knuts, and giving a smile she told him, "Just a purchase of fourteen sickles and three knuts and I'm on my way to Sarquin Stadium!"

With a final farewell and a few murmurs of good luck to Hermione, new boss twirled around and headed for the exit of Flourish & Blotts. Hermione gave his retreating back a rather quizzical look -- why was he telling her all this during her lunch break? Either way, Hermione was both nervous and keen about being able to go Sarquin Stadium on her first day in a new department. Heading towards the line-up to purchase the book, the queasiness in her stomach momentarily pausing for a moment as she grinned in her disbelief. As several witches and wizards who had already made their purchases and shuffled towards the exit, Hermione made her way closer, dazing off into no spot in particular. A certain tap on her shoulder, however, resulted in a terrified flinch and her feeling of being nauseous returned fully.

Releasing a short and exasperated gasp, Hermione swiftly spun around and came face-to-face with Eric once more, who was clearly out of breath if the signs of him panting loudly and his flushed cheeks meant anything. "Miss - Hermione - just - came - to - give - you - your - reporter - pass -" He handed her a plastic card with a pin which Hermione glanced at for a moment before her new boss continued, " - sorry - for - startling - you - good - luck!" With that, Eric fled just as soon as he came, and Hermione was left with an even more bewildered look set upon her pretty face.

"Find everything you need, miss?"

Giving another startled cry, the brunette witch turned to face the cashier, who was looking at her with the same bewildered look. Trying to regain the ability to breathe, Hermione gave a smile and replied, "I believe so!"



CRACK! Hermione swayed slightly before managing to keep balance, and lightly sniffed at freshly-cut grass. She stood before the grand entrance of Sarquin Stadium, a Quidditch stadium which was located on the outskirts of London, and appeared to be an abandoned and old office building to the Muggle eye. Looking up with a look of awe on her face, and with her plastic card pinned firmly to her elegant navy blue cloak (a card which read, "Daily Prophet - Hermione Granger - Top Reporter") and Quidditch Through the Ages in her cloak pocket, Hermione cleared her throat slightly and put a delicate strand of slightly bushy brown hair behind her ear before heading inside.

The hallways all curved in different directions - a wide hallway straight in front of her led to the pitch, the two curving hallways on her left led to a locker room and stairs which would lead to the stands, while the two curving hallways on the right served the same purposes. Here, in the main entrance, were a main area to buy snacks, as well as entrances to lavatories. It was a stunning, polished, and sleek stadium, Hermione couldn't help but admit to herself. But the only question was, where was she to go?

Hearing voices which echoed off the walls in her western direction, Hermione decided to follow her hunches and headed for that direction. Soon enough, she saw the door to the locker room open and a slightly chubby man with graying hair exit, whistling slightly and chortling to himself. He held several sickles in his hands, and appeared to be setting a course towards a special wizard-type vending machine but stopped short in his tracks as he came to look upon Hermione. "Ah, beautiful," he said, almost in the air of greeting someone. "Have you lost your way? I'm afraid that training is about to begin, you can't be here."

Feeling her cheeks flushing as she realized that this could become the beginning of an embarrassing situation she quickly stated, "My name is Hermione Granger, I'm a reporter for the Daily Prophet." She tapped her plastic card as she did so, an action which made her recall the days when she was both Prefect and Head Girl and had to wear badges upon her Hogwarts uniform. She felt a pang of sadness as she realized that the good ol' Hogwarts days were over, but knew she had to continue on with her explanation to the man. "I am assigned a task to interview the Puddlemere United's keeper -- really get to know him - or her -- over the next few weeks."

"Oy!" the man suddenly exclaimed, a hint of a Scottish accent evident in his voice. "I knew they were to be sending someone, but I had no idea they were to be sending such a beautiful reporter! I expected all the female reporters to look somewhat like that awful-looking Rita Skeeter - and that's me being polite, y'see." He tapped his belly slightly as he laughed at his joke then added in, "The name's Charlie by the way. I'm the manager and part-time coach of Puddlemere United. You'll be wanting Ollie, I assume? I'll go get him for you."

Barely managing to get a word in edgewise as Charlie rambled on, Hermione ended up nodding every so often as the manager spoke. When he spoke up about Ollie, Hermione even nodded twice and replied with, "Yes please, I'd be most obliged if you to get - Ollie - for me." As Charlie retreated back to the locker room, Hermione bit her bottom lip nervously once more. She wasn't sure if this Ollie was kind, if he would be open with her or be nasty and not want to reveal anything about his personal life. Overall, she was mostly bewildered as to why she was put onto a task of such magnitude when she was only put in the position of Quidditch reporter and writer for a certain period of time, but she figured it all had to do with what Shirley could think Hermione could handle. Hermione's thoughts were briefly cut off as she heard Charlie yell out hoarsely.

"Oy, Ollie!"

"Yeah, Charlie?"

Noticing that the voice that replied had an even more clear Scottish accent, Hermione couldn't help but realize that the voice was awfully familiar and stood there, puzzled.

"Reporter is here to meet you for that whole Daily Prophet 'getting to know you' article bit, just thought you should know!"

"It's not Rita Skeeter, is it? That woman is bloody horrid!"

"Nah, don't you worry, it's someone else!"

"It's not some man in his fifties, is it? I don't know if I could get along with someone like that for a few weeks!"

"Why don't you come out here, lad, and find out?"

Turning back to face Hermione, Charlie gave her a brief wink which caused her to smile hesitantly. Hermione was neither Rita Skeeter or a man in his fifties (as far as she was concerned) - so how bad could it possibly be? Deciding she should look like a proper but easy-going reporter she abruptly stopped biting her bottom lip and stood with her arms casually at her sides, a polite but warm smile on her face. As the locker door swung open to reveal Puddlemere United's keeper, Hermione's eyes transfixed themselves onto this keeper's bare chest and nothing else.

"There she is, Wood," Charlie told him, and then added in a very audible whisper, "Ain't she a beauty?"

As the keeper moved closer towards her, Hermione looked around wildly before bringing her eyes to the keeper's face, which was even more handsome, with chocolate brown eyes that had a hint of green and a warm smile. A very warm smile that she could have sworn she had seen before. He was much too handsome. And ... too familiar for words.

"Nice to meet you," Wood greeted, glancing down at her plastic card to fully greet her. But this glance caused his eyes to widen in shock and he looked back up at her and added in a clearly happy but shocked voice, "Hermione Granger?!"

"Hello!" Hermione responded, a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. "Y-you remember me then, Oliver?"

"How could I not?" Oliver replied. "It's great to see you! Ah, those good old days at Hogwarts. You were so brilliant, and - and - that Quidditch match! You had that spell to repel water from Potter's glasses during that one crucial match, and I almost felt as though I would snog you, that's how relieved I was, 'cause I honestly thought that Gryffindor was going to be out of the chances for the Hogwarts Cup and -" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling and brought his hand to his head, nervously scratching at his coarse and short brown hair. "It's great to see you again, Hermione, and I can't tell you how relieved I am that it's not Rita Skeeter or a man in his fifties that's going to be with me these next few weeks."

"Well, I'm very glad to hear that!" Hermione replied. "I remember at the Quidditch World Cup before my fourth year - you mentioned something about becoming a reserve for Puddlemere United, but I didn't know that it was you I was going to be interviewing!"

"The thought never crossed my mind either, Granger," Oliver told her. "B-but ... you've done well for yourself. Honestly. Well done, being a 'top' employee for Daily Prophet, and all."

"Thanks," Hermione replied, a large hint of sincerity added in to her polite comment. "You've done incredibly well for yourself as well."

"Why do people often run away and scream like a banshee when their eyes come to glance upon the likes of Rita Skeeter?" Charlie suddenly spoke up, completely ignoring their conversation.

Oliver rolled his eyes and gave an apologetic smile towards Hermione, as though Charlie had behaved like this all the time. "Why do they, Charlie?"

"Because they often mistake her for a hag!" Charlie chortled away at his own joke, not realizing that neither Oliver and Hermione had laughed (although both smiled incredibly weakly), and then with an amused sigh told them, "You two get reacquainted! Practice starts in ten minutes, Wood!"

As Charlie spoke this, Hermione's eyes drifted back down to Oliver's bare chest. He was definitely in shape - no doubt about it, he had to have fan-girls (perhaps she could join them?) - but at this point she shook her head softly and scolded herself for thinking such thoughts. It was a professional relationship, one between ... old friends.

"Great to see you again, Hermione," Oliver repeated. "And I'm sorry for Charlie's - err, behaviour - on my part; I'm afraid he's a bit quirky."

"It's great to see you too," Hermione replied. "And no need to apologize - I could easily mistake Rita Skeeter for a hag."

Hermione groaned as she flushed the loo. After catching up on things with Oliver and watching Puddlemere's practise for several minutes before confirming a lunch "date" on Friday, she Apparated to her flat and immediately threw up. "What a great first day," she moaned with some sarcasm, although really the only things she could complain about were the facts that she was ill and that Oliver had put his shirt on when practise had begun.

Leaning her head against the counter, she released a sigh and stripped off her cloak, revealing a thing blue sweater and straight-fitted black pants. Her stomach grumbled rather loudly ("Bloody stomach, sod off," she couldn't help but think to herself) and she exited her spotless restroom to make her way towards an even more spotless kitchen.

Fixing herself a bowl of chicken noodle soup (the spoon stirring absentmindedly in the pot on the stove), Hermione sat herself down on a wooden stool, placing a piece of parchment and a feathered quill on the island in the middle of the kitchen, and prepared to write her first Owl to Shirley on her experience so far. As Crookshanks, her beloved cat, leaped onto the counter, Hermione stroked his fur for a few moments before screwing her eyes up in concentration.

Levitating her soup onto the island, she tapped her quill on the marble top, formulating the right words before she began to write.

"Greetings, Shirley!
Hermione Granger here, reporting on my first day; it already feels as though I'm sort of reporter by the way I've begun this Owl to you! Just wanted to say that my first day has gone incredibly well! It felt odd, not being in a cubicle the whole day, and although I felt a sense of loss, I was also quite relieved. I met up with my new boss, Eric Wanston, although oddly enough it was in Flourish & Blotts while I was purchasing a book. It was overall a different means of getting my schedule for the day, but I was able to start right away on my assignment, meeting up with the Keeper that I will be focusing on for the next month and a half. His name was - or should I say is? - Oliver Wood, who used to be a fellow Gryffindor when I was student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I can't say that I've ever seen him with his shirt off nor have I had such a detailed conversation with it was nice to catch up on old times!
Tomorrow I'm to be meeting with the Seeker of the Falmouth Falcons, and although Mr Wanston didn't inform me of his name, I hope he's as gorgeous as Oliver hope that I can get as acquainted with him as I have with Mr Wood. Overall, just by judging on a few hours in this new position, I feel very grateful that you would entrust me with this task, Shirley, and I'm wholeheartedly looking forward to my second day on the job!
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger."

After reviewing her note for a few minutes, slurping on her soup in pleasure, she realized that she had not mentioned the fact that she had fallen ill to the stomach flu, but knew it'd be best to leave that sort of information out. Pushing her now empty bowl of soup aside, Hermione folded the letter and shoved in gingerly into a beige envelope that she used on official work-related notes. Standing up from her stool, Hermione let out a tiny groan as her stomach grumbled in digestion and in pain. Making her way across the loft-designed flat, Hermione opened up a wide window that had a windowsill designed as a perch and whistled twice in a both low tone and a high tone. A familiar fluttering of wings echoed in Hermione's ears and the sight of the owl she purchased four months ago loomed into view. Hermione had called her Jaune, for she was a dainty hue of yellow and silver.

Hermione petted her softly whilst Jaune nipped her finger affectionately, and the brunette just began to say, "Jaune, I want you to send this letter and that will be --" before three owls suddenly appeared in sight, landing next to Jaune. Gasping in both horror and awe, Hermione exclaimed, "I didn't know you were having a party, Jaune!" before noticing that they all had letters attached to their legs, and one particular owl that she recognized as an official 'Daily Prophet' owl contained two. "Never knew I was this popular," Hermione muttered softly to herself. She retrieved all the letters and the owls launched off into the afternoon sky. Flashing a smirk to Jaune, who hooted with glee, Hermione advised her, "Stick around on the perch a bit longer. You're going to have quite a few letters to send in a few minutes once I've finished writing them!"

Heading towards a plump blue couch that was arched in the shape of a half-moon, she leaped onto its comfy cushions and tore apart each envelope delicately, reading its letter in astonishment. Each one contained more or less the same information, "What's this I hear about you being promoted as a Quidditch report and writer?" , although they all contained their own personal comments:

"YOU BETTER GET US SOME AUTOGRAPHS! Except Ron mentions that he doesn't need one of Krum, he already has his.
Make sure that we get together sometime soon! Love, Harry and Ron (as he's too lazy to send his own letter)."

"So who's this you had to meet after lunch, hmm? Agnes and I are very interested to know! Probably some Quidditch ... dude ... right? Anyways, congratulations to you! And we can understand if you're far too busy to meet us for dinner tonight - send reply A.S.A.P. to let us know if you will! Love from, Clara and Agnes (as she's too lazy to send her own letter).
P.S. We are also very ashamed to admit that we shall miss you at our floor. Although we are very pleased that you will be spending less time on the elevator and more time working than we have to! SCORE!"

"Congratulations, Hermione! Your father and I knew that you'd be promoted, and it delights us that it was in such a short time! We're so proud of you! Shirley sent us an owl this morning to notify us, and although your father and I aren't avid readers of the Daily Prophet as wizard news doesn't necessarily pertain to us, we are absolutely delighted! Good luck on your future writings, we can't wait to read what you'll write next! Love from, Mum and Dad xoxo (and the 'xoxo' is especially from your father as he's too lazy to add his own personal thoughts, dear.)"

These three made Hermione beam in joy, glad that she had more or less the support she needed from family and friends. The other one from the Daily Prophet (as the first was from Agnes and Clara) put Hermione in a state of bewilderment, however:

"Hello, Hermione!
I heard you are to be co-writing the 'big' feature on Quidditch professionals, eh? Oh, I should introduce myself, shouldn't I? My name's Jessica Lee, I've been working in the Entertainment bit of the Daily Prophet, specifically in the Quidditch department, for four years now, and I'm glad that you're on-board as well! I heard that you're quite a rookie when it comes to Quidditch but that you've got a knack for writing so I'm sure it won't be too hard! Err ... I'm sure there was something else I was supposed to mention, but I forget. Um. Oh, yes! I heard that we have something in common - we both have Muggle parents! Well, I've got one anyways. My mum's a witch but my father's a full-blooded .. err .. Muggle. Indeed. Although it's rather odd that he's more obsessed about Quidditch than my mother is. Quite. Anyways, I shall become more acquainted with you tomorrow, eh?
Sincerely, Jessica Lee."

Hermione smirked and quickly rushed over to the island in the kitchen, retrieving her quill and scribbling down notes of gratitude as well as a wholehearted excuse to Agnes and Clara that she wouldn't be able to make it for dinner because of her stomach bug. Shoving the envelopes into different envelopes (a Quidditch-related envelope for Harry and Ron, a blue envelope to Agnes and Clara, a pink envelope with white hearts for her parents, and another professional Daily Prophet beige envelope for Jessica), she went over to the wide window once again, attaching all the letters to Jaune before watching her fly off towards the setting sun.

Rubbing at her eyes furiously to rid of the tired feeling that was trying to overcome them, Hermione wrapped a snug blanket around her waist, drawing over to the kitchen to clean up the bowl of soup before decided to take an antidote for her stomach bug. "Ah, the convenience of being a witch," Hermione thought to herself. Going back to her spotless bathroom, Hermione opened the cupboard and quickly found the antidote (as the cupboards were more organized than the vaults in Gringotts), pouring herself a small amount and swallowing it before sighing. She had just received a mild-blowing promotion, her friends and family were in great support of this achievement, she had run into an old acquaintance from Hogwarts and was assigned to write a feature about him, and tomorrow she would meet her second 'feature'. Releasing a sigh, she noticed that she had almost come to the conclusion that she had nothing to do - quite a change on Hermione's part - until she rushed to the bathroom where her cloak was, grabbed Quidditch Through the Ages, darted towards her bedroom (the only placed in the entire flat that was unorganized as there were at least twenty books stacked up upon her desk) and collapsed onto her bed, reading the small but enchanting green book twice before falling asleep.


"Morning, gorgeous!" a familiar voice with a Scottish accent greeted her.

Opening her eyes and blinking them several times to become adjusted to the light that was streaming through the window, Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "Oliver? W-what are you doing in my flat?"

"Shh," the handsome Quidditch player told her. Noting the fact that he had no shirt on and was lying on the covers of her bed, Hermione fell silent but felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. "You look beautiful, Hermione," he complimented.

"I'm afraid you're lying," Hermione murmured softly, trying to ignore how odd the entire situation was. "I've just woken up, I have terrible bedhead when I first wake up. Honestly, can't you see? It's all bushy and bunched up in this one particular spot at the back and --"

"Shh," he told her again. "If you look this beautiful when you first wake up, I'd have to be with you every single minute of every day because I don't think it's possible you could be any more beautiful."

This time, Hermione's entire face flushed with a reddish hue. "Uh - thank you?" she stammered out.

"No, Hermione," Oliver said with a smirk, gazing into her eyes. "Thank you." He leaned in, giving her a polite kiss on the cheek, which trailed down to her neck, then down to her shoulder. His lips grazed her elbow, his tongue trailing her wrist, until he began to softly bite her finger.

"Mm, that feels nice," she whispered.

"Hoot!"

"Hoot?" Hermione inquired.

"HOOT!"

Hermione let out a shriek as her eyes widened in shock - there was no topless Oliver lying on the bed next to her. Jaune, instead, sat on her covers, nipping onto her finger, attempting to wake her up. She drew the covers from her wildly, which caused Jaune to jump into flight, quickly flying over to her desk where she gazed at Hermione in a disapproving way.

"Oh gods, what time is it? Have I slept in?" Hermione gasped out, realizing that Quidditch Through the Ages was on the floor and that she was still wearing the clothes she had on yesterday. Reaching out her arm to her bedside table, Hermione put on her watch and cried out in horror as she realized the time - ten to nine.

"Tomorrow, you will be heading to Sarquin Stadium once more at nine in the morning - the Falmouth Falcons are practising and you will get to know their seeker ... well, I've never been good with names. After you set up some more times and dates, head back to the office!"

The words that Mr Wanston had spoken echoed in her mind, and she found herself completely unprepared. Ten minutes to get ready to meet the seeker of the Falmouth Falcons? If she had made an impression on Oliver and his manager, Charlie, she knew she had to do the same with the seeker. She dashed towards her walk-in closet, throwing on some clean clothes (a soft pink turtleneck and another pair of blank pants) as well as a creaseless cloak that was of a deep lavender (which contained all the necessities she needed such as a notepad and quill), she then leaped into the bathroom, muttering whatever spells she could remember to rid of the bedhead that was temporarily living on her head. Whipping her wand this way and that, she put on the right hints of make-up to make her appear natural yet beautiful, then fled into the kitchen to quickly make and grab a piece of toast.

Final stop - Hermione concentrated on Sarquin Stadium after putting on her shoes, closing her eyes as she focused on the Quidditch stadium, and with a CRACK! she was there.

"Oof!" Hermione exclaimed, as she felt the texture of the tile floor beneath her feet. She opened her eyes, expected to see the hallway of the stadium in her sight, but instead saw a deep green sweater which obscured her view. "Excuse me, sir, did not mean to Apparate err ... into you." Her eyes darted up towards the head of the tall man -- and his blond hair, which was slicked back with not a hair out of place, seemed almost too familiar that Hermione felt she would throw up once more.

"Not a problem," the man replied slickly. He was leaning slightly against the wall, but once she had apologized, he had begun to turn. Those cold gray eyes, that slanted smirk. "Please let this be another dream," Hermione desperately thought. "Please let this be another dream." The blonde man gasped in dismay and repulsion. "Granger? Is that really you?"

Her hand reached out to her other arm, and using her two forefingers, gave herself a pinch. As she winched in pain and released a tiny 'ow' into the atmosphere, Hermione let out a devastated sigh. "Not a dream, unfortunately - this is real life," she thought, feeling incredibly nauseous. Bringing her eyes towards the other man she retorted, "Draco Malfoy? Is that really you?"

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DUN DUN DUN! lol Oh man, major cliffhanger. But at least I didn't keep you guessing as to who the character really is, so err ... cut me some slack? Fairly long chappie, yay! And I couldn't resist the whole Oliver-being-topless-and-then-Hermione-dreams-about-him-being-topless-and-in-her-bed kind of thing, so ... forgive me if it disgusted you. Although OLIVER? TOPLESS? How could that possibly be disgusting? Anyways, chapter four coming shortly!

Thanks to the reviewers!
Callie - Thank you so much for reviewing! I hope chapter three is a bit more satisfying as it introduces the ahem gorgeous men. lol
fionger - You must be proud of me, I updated within a day of your reviewing! And at this rate, I'll probably have a chapter up nearly every single week, as I've gotten quite hooked with writing this one - probably because I have a main outline of what I'm actually going to be doing. Heh heh! Anyways, I'll stop rambling and say - thank you for staying tuned, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Hugs and kisses!
And please review!