A/N: Firstly, none of it is mine, except for the plot. Please don't come after me, I am just a stay at home mom with entire too much time on her hands! JKR is due all the credit for the characters and scenes you recognize.

Side note here: I really really hate dialogue. I enjoy reading it and I enjoy setting the stage so to speak, but when it comes to conversations, I suck. If you find the dialogue a bit stale, please let me know. I will try to spice it up or down, depending on your review. Thank you for your attention.

Fantasizing over what Oliver could be doing with those wonderful hands was going to get her in trouble.

As the waiter brought the first course, Hermione channeled her mind onto the real reason they were there having lunch. As she worked her way through her pomodoro salad, she asked Oliver questions about how he had acquired the rare book that had brought them together.

"So, how did you acquire this book exactly?" Hermione asked.

Oliver set down his fork, and steepled his fingers together, in a move all too similar to Professor Dumbledore.

"I enjoy spending time in the cities we visit throughout the season. I like to walk around and soak up the natural vibe the flows through them. It is very real and much more enlightening than sticking to the 'tourist' traps. I find myself perusing antique dealers and old bookstores a lot when I travel. I found that particular book in a Muggle bookstore in Sofia, of all places, just sitting on a shelf in plain sight," he chuckled, picking up his fork again. (A/N: Sofia is the capital of Bulgaria.)

"And you recognized it for what it may actually be?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Oliver looked up and said, "Well, no. Not initially. I was just flipping through it when all of sudden, my hands got extremely warm on the cover and the pages just seem to fly open of their own volition. It settled on a particular page and I recognized the writing to be ancient Gaelic, from my own history. I tried to decipher it but was not able to. I realized at that point that it was a find indeed, since no other writings in it were the same. So, I bought it," he finished.

Hermione finished her salad, and after placing her napkin to the side, picked up her water glass.

"Hmm. Do you know any history of the previous owner?" she asked nonchalantly, taking a sip.

"No, the employee at said bookstore was not very well informed. If I had been able to speak to the manager, I am certain they would have known, but at that time, she was the only one there," he replied. He pushed his food around his plate. Setting his fork down, he looked up and asked, "Why do I feel like you don't believe me?"

Hermione set down her glass. "It isn't that, honestly. I just know that I was privy to loads of information during my studies, and I never heard tell of any other copies of this book in existence."

"So, where did you encounter this other copy?" Oliver asked, as the wait staff removed their dishes.

"In a castle outside of Sofia," she replied quietly, fiddling with the stem on her water glass.

"I see. How long did you study there?" he wondered.

"For two years."

"That long?" Oliver said. "I would've thought you could go through three libraries the size of Hogwarts by then," a gentle smirk playing on his lips.

Hermione's eyes flashed upward at his obvious flattery.

"Well, I normally could have, if I hadn't been distracted."

A-ha, Oliver thought. 'Now we are getting somewhere.' "And what distracted you so completely?"

Hermione replied defensively, "Ahem, uh, well, I was visiting an old friend and-"at which point, the second course had arrived.

Oliver picked up his fork. "Listen, I don't mean to pry. I understand about getting distracted, believe me. I would really like to get the background on this book if I can, or I should say, if you can. So any help I can give, I will."

"Thank you, for the understanding. And for the offer," Hermione said plainly. "I am just not sure it will be useful to go traipsing around Bulgaria looking for confirmation that your book is indeed what we think it is."

"How else will we find out?" He asked in between bites of a superb Etruscan beef dish.

"Well, I can put out some owl posts asking for information on any other knowledge of it. It may not prove fruitful, but discreetly asking for someone else's expertise is always a good start," Hermione said, taking small bites of her meal.

"Sounds good to me," Oliver replied. "Should we make a date to meet, say once a week, to compare notes?"

Hermione's eyes closed at the word 'date'.

"Hermione?" Oliver asked.

"Yes, an appointment once a week would be fine," she said quietly.

"Is something wrong?" Oliver probed.

"No, no. Of course not." She replied quickly.

Too quickly, if Oliver was any judge of it. They finished their meal, and as the waiter took their plates, he inquired if they would enjoy an after dinner espresso.

"Yes, two please," Oliver replied while observing Hermione's pale face. Her hands fidgeted with her napkin while she looked to be in deep thought. "Hermione? Is that okay with you?"

Hermione looked up and saw concern in the dark depths of Oliver's eyes.

"What? Oh, yes, an espresso would be wonderful, thank you."

Hermione settled her mind on the subject of dating and all that entailed. 'He didn't ask you out, silly girl. He wants to get to the bottom of this mystery surrounding his book,' her inner voice chided. 'Yes, yes. I know,' she told herself.

"So…" Oliver began.

Hermione looked up and put a smile on her now calm features.

"Yes, so…" She replied. "So, what have you been up to besides being an international celebrity and admired by thousands of screaming fans?"

Oliver blushed slightly. "Well, Quidditch takes up most of my time. With practices and matches, I am traveling to and from the pitch with much regularity. I try to keep my life as simple as possible, as distractions don't play well with my schedule these days."

"I see. And do you get distracted often?" she asked playfully.

Oliver looked at her to see only open curiosity on her face, with perhaps a bit of mischief in her tone, but no underlying motive present. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably.

"Like I said, I try not to. It is certain that sometimes it does happen, but not too frequently," he replied, wondering if she was referring to what he thought she was referring to.

"Well, that is nice. A neat orderly life is all we can strive for, and cope with the distractions as they come. Do you have a flat here in town by the pitch, or do you live elsewhere?" Hermione asked, feeling slightly flushed as she realized what her question might convey. 'Ah well, it is out there now. Can't take that back. I only hope he doesn't think I want to see his flat' she thought to herself.

Oliver was surprised by her question, but decided to ignore the pure male response rattling in his brain saying 'invite her over man!'

"I purchased a small house outside of Ottery St. Catchpole a couple years back. It is comfortable, but I am hardly there except to sleep really. The finer points of decorating are lost on me, so it looks like what you would expect a bachelor flat to look like. Very little furniture," he chuckled.

"Well, as long as you have a bed, what else do you need," Hermione said offhand, and immediately regretted her words. "Uh, I mean. Oh, look, our coffee is here," she replied quickly, a becoming blush fighting its way onto her face.

Oliver used his napkin to hide his smile as he accepted his espresso and fought down the roaring beastie in him that said, 'Oh, she so wants you.'

They continued the small talk over their coffee and he discovered that she lived near Diagon Alley in a slightly affluent neighborhood. It wasn't much, she said, but it was home for now. Oliver was intrigued at how their simple conversation and the slight blushes when she may have said the wrong thing were enveloping him completely. He looked into her eyes and saw no guile, no machinations. Just pure goodness and honesty, with a distinct touch of sorrow. He wondered about that, about what had happened to mark her soul so completely. 'She fought against Voldemort, for crying out loud. What more excuse do you need, bud?' his mind growled at him. But he sensed it was deeper than that.

"Oliver? Hello? Are you there?" Hermione was waving her hand in his face.

"What? Oh, sorry, drifted off there for a moment," he said gruffly, quickly finishing his now cooled espresso.

"That is ok, I am used to people zoning out when I speak about books and my work," she replied with a slight chuckle.

"Oh, no. Please, don't think you are boring me," Oliver replied, afraid he had offended her. "It wasn't that, I just got caught up in how easy it is to talk to you. You aren't after my body or my money and it is so refreshing to speak with someone who has an interest outside of where I placed on Witch Weekly Top 10 Hottest players," he replied with a slight edge to his voice.

"I see. Well, thank you, I think," Hermione said. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh my word, it is 12:30. I have to get back to work."

As Oliver paid the check and they collected their things, he once again helped her with her cloak. This time he reached for her mass of curls at her neck and lifted her hair to place it outside of the cloak. As he did so, his roughened finger tips grazed her neck and a feeling of warmth spread through her like melted gold, from that point on her neck, down to her toes. Her eyes widened as the spark that she had felt earlier in her office flared briefly.

"All set then?" Oliver asked, offering his arm.

Hermione nodded stiffly and timidly took his arm. They walked back to the store in silence, each focused on their own thoughts racing inside. When they reached Flourish & Blotts front entrance, she removed her hand from his arm, and smoothed her cloak with it.

Oliver rocked on his feet, and quietly asked, "So, when shall we meet again? To discuss the progress of the research."

"Hmm, well, I am free next Tuesday afternoon if you like. It is my early day. Once a week, each of us gets one day to leave early and Tuesday is mine," she replied.

"Okay, well that is fine with my schedule too. I do have a practice in the morning that day, but it is over with around 2. Would you like to meet me at the stadium, or would someplace else be better?"

"No, the stadium is fine. 2, you say? How about we meet at 2:30? That will give you enough time to clean up and be ready to focus on research, instead of what went right or wrong in practice," Hermione said with a slight smirk.

"How did you-"

"Oliver, I was best friends with your seeker for three years. I remember your attitude after practices," Hermione said with a laugh.

"Oh," he replied sheepishly. "That bad eh?"

"No, not at all. We all just understood to stay clear of you for at least a ½ hr afterwards," she said.

"Heh, well. So, Tuesday at 2:30 then?" he asked.

"Sounds good." Hermione stuck out her hand and he took it in both of his and lifted it to his lips.

"Til then, fair lady," he said with a gallant flourish, his accent giving his words a melodic quality.

Hermione blushed and saw the glint in his eye. She rolled her eyes heavenward and laughed as he smiled down at her.

"You are a nut, Mr. Oliver Wood," she said severely, with the unmistakable glow of humor in her eyes.

"Yup, that's me," he replied. "I will see you on Tuesday. Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

He winked and went walking past her on his way to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, whistling an old Scottish reel.

Hermione shook her head once and proceeded to enter the bookstore. She had lots of letters to write before Tuesday, as she wanted to have something worthwhile to discuss with him when they met again.