A/N: Just to warn you, it gets a bit racy in this one! (FINALLY!) LOL


Hermione flopped down in the chair behind the desk with very little grace and huffed. There was nothing she hated more than not knowing something. It was the driving force behind her every action these days. Knowledge was what gave her the edge. It got her through the war. It pulled her through the miscarriage and after. Without her knowledge, she was just like everyone else, defenseless. Her mind focused back on Oliver, who had begun to pace.

"Hermione, when I first objected to this trip here, there was more behind it than just a need for privacy," Oliver said. He ran his hand through his hair roughly. "In the past, we have received many requests for our 'collection', and almost as many threats."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Threats?"

"Yes, threats. Threats to our home, our family, everything we hold dear. Knowing this, I was very reluctant to bring you here," he added. Looking at her with an agitated glance, remembering how her and his mother had ganged up on him.

"But, Oliver, who would threaten to take this?" Hermione asked, standing quickly. "This book, that no one seems to know, or even care about." Her hand indicated the text.

"Hermione, I don't know. I only know that if it got out that we may have a book that may have at one time belonged to Merlin, the greatest wizard ever known; well, the interested parties could circle the globe many times," Oliver said, stopping to look her square in the eyes. "That is why I am so concerned. What if someone with a dark purpose were to want this book? What do you think they would do to try to get it?"

Hermione's jaw clenched, as she recalled just what could happen if someone wanted something valuable. Recalled when Death Eaters roamed the world, destroying all they could lay siege to. She fell to her seat, realizing how destroyed things had been, and how dangerous their situation really was.

"Oliver? What are we going to do?" she asked firmly, following him with her eyes. He had resumed his pacing. "Oliver!"

He stopped and looked at her. "What are we going to do?" she asked again.

"We?"

"Yes, we. What are we, meaning you and I, going to do about this?" she asked, the fire coming up in her eyes again. 'Oi, men can be so dense sometimes!' she yelled inside her head.

Oliver's eyes softened. "Hermione, there isn't much more we can do. We could hide the book for another couple thousand years, but that will not prevent the greed of others from continuing. It may never be truly safe to bring it out into the open."

"But, we aren't going to do that are we?" Hermione said, her eyes wide, interrupting his speech. "Hide the book? Oliver, please, tell me you are joking?"

"I wasn't. But I can see now that it would solve nothing to do so. All I can think to do at this point is continue on, telling no one of this possible link to Merlin, and determine if it is true or not," he finished, resting his hands on the front of the desk. "Hermione?"

She looked at him, the fire dying down slowly. Her fear of losing another book to the dusty annals of time was placated for now.

"Promise me you won't divulge what we have so far discovered, and what we may suspect to be the truth about this book?" Oliver asked, every line of his body tense.

Hermione nodded softly. After seeing the reaction of his mother to the supposed danger, and the idea of others trying to take the book from them, it was the least she would do.

Oliver relaxed, and said, "Now, why don't we go eat our lunch?"


Hermione walked down a small path that was slightly overgrown with long grass, but easy to follow. As she came around the back of the house, the sun shone down on her with a stark brightness. She shaded her eyes to look out over the gardens. Bright colors again caught her eyes and she smiled. This garden, it was Kyla's sanctuary, as Hermione returned the wave from Kyla at the other end. She was pleased that Oliver's mother had been able to get past that unfortunate scene in the library. No one said anymore about it at lunch and she was grateful. Hermione hated to show such emotion in front of anyone, least of all someone as important to Oliver as his mother.

A tantalizing scent on a draft of breeze wound around Hermione and she closed her eyes. Relaxing, soothing, and very strong. It reminded her of the shampoo she used. Her eyes opened as she looked around, finding the pasture full of lavender to her right. It was hidden behind an average sized hedge with a small opening in the center. Hermione walked over to find it in almost full bloom.

She looked over her shoulder to the second floor windows open to the summer air and grinned. 'So, that is how he knew,' she thought. Hermione sighed deeply and continued on her walk.

Oliver watched Hermione from the kitchen while he prepared the potatoes for dinner. He had disliked being so forceful with her. Her spirit was something fragile, he could see that when he looked in her eyes. He didn't want to damage her desire to know the truth, but he definitely didn't want her leaping into this not knowing the dangers either. He shut off the water and watched her walk over to his mother. They both smiled and he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. The scene in the library was not something he wished to repeat, ever. He was just thankful his mother had left before things got too bad. Why his mother's good opinion of Hermione mattered so much to him, he was still trying to figure out. But it did, and that was all he knew at the moment. He turned the water on again as the two women walked into the kitchen.

"So, what is on the menu for this evening, dear?" Kyla asked, setting down her gardening tools on the table.

"A roast, with potatoes, carrots, and onions," Oliver replied, setting the now-clean potatoes on the drainer. "Will that do?"

"Most certainly, my dear. I love it when you cook for me," she said with a wink. Oliver rolled his eyes.

"Is there anything I can do?" Hermione asked, leaning over the counter.

"Well, not now. But, once it is finished, you could sit down and enjoy it," Oliver said with a wink.

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Honestly, Oliver. Will you at least let me set the table?"

"Sure, I always hated that job," Oliver smirked.

"Oliver!" Kyla shouted, slapping him on his leg with the hand towel.

"Ow, Mum, that hurt! Watch, I'll have a bruise there now!" Oliver whined unconvincingly.

"Oh really, you big baby!" Kyla teased. "Want me to kiss it?"

"MUM!" Oliver yelled, as Hermione burst into laughter.

Soon, two other peals of laughter joined her and the tension of the morning had fully lifted from the Wood home.


Hermione tossed and turned in the darkened room. She and Oliver were not able to locate the third book yet and she had to be back to work on Monday. Her eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling. Her mind just would not rest. 'Might as well get up,' she thought grumpily.

After she threw some pajama pants on and found her socks, she sat at the desk in the corner of the room to look over her notes for the day. Lighting the lamp, she blinked quickly to adjust her eyes to the brightness.

Hermione looked at the progress they had made earlier that day. It really was remarkable, as Scottish Gaelic was not one of the languages she was very familiar with. To be there, with Oliver and his mother, it had kept her from having to conduct more research back at her office, and she was pleased how fast things were moving. Except for the fact that neither Oliver nor his mother knew of the deep connection Hermione had to this particular book.

As her eyes fell on the 'red versus white' on her page, she again felt the heaviness descend. "It is just a coincidence," she said to the empty room. Although, the title of Oliver's book could not be a coincidence. "Merlin Caledonian's Word" was vaguely connected to another translation they had uncovered today, "Lacuna sapiens magus", or "Words of Wise Wizard". She knew that title well. It was buried deep in her memories, from her time in Bulgaria. And that was troubling her very much.

'Is it possible,' she thought, 'that two books, roughly named the same, are connected?' Hermione's fingers tapped her lips again. Her mind was tumbling thoughts around so fast she was almost dizzy. She focused again on the words 'right love not wrong, complete without end.'

"Love," she said wryly. "Why must it always come down to that?" Hermione believed in love, for she witnessed its power firsthand. Not for herself really, but through her parents, and through Harry and Ron. When Harry defeated Voldemort, it was his love for life, love for his friends and extended family, and his deep love for Ginny that allowed him to prevail. It was the Weasley's love for each that pulled them through the war, and it was the trio's love that kept them strong enough to be able to survive at all. All that now existed, the lives everyone enjoyed, did so because of love.

A soft tap sounded at the door, and Hermione walked over to open it, checking her hair reflexively. She found Oliver standing in the hall, smirking down at her.

"Yes?" she said in a whisper, leaning on the open door.

"Couldn't sleep, aye?" Oliver asked, leaning his hands on opposite sides of the doorframe. His presence filled the entrance.

"No, so much going through my mind from today," Hermione shrugged.

"Getting anywhere with that?" he asked, walking into the room. Hermione opened her mouth to object, but realized at that moment, she really wanted to talk to him.

"Well, I'm not sure," she said, closing the door. She didn't want to wake his mother.

Oliver had already pulled a chair over to the desk and positioned it next to hers. He looked at her as he swept his hand over the seating arrangement.

"Ugh, fine," she sighed.

"So, what are you not sure about?" Oliver asked, as they both settled in the chairs.

"Well, the translations, for one."

"Why?" he asked.

"It seems like too much of a coincidence to me, the similarities are too well placed," Hermione said.

"How?"

"Well, the title. To find a Latin text named in one of your books, which closely resembles the actual title of your book, is odd," Hermione began. She could safely tell him a few things, since he already knew about them. It would not violate any charm she had been placed under.

"Okay. But other titles are cross-referenced all the time, correct?" he asked.

"Yes, but not one that no one would have any knowledge of. The other translation, 'loss of age' relates to that as well. It is just very disconcerting," she finished, rubbing her neck absently. Stiff neck muscles were a common occurrence when she conducted research.

Oliver watched her knead her neck muscles as a twinge of pain passed over her face. He stood up to come behind her and placed his hands over hers.

Hermione instantly stiffened. "Relax; I am only going to work out the knots, okay?" Oliver said quietly.

Hermione removed her hand and let him place his on her neck. He moved her long hair over her shoulder. The roughness of his fingers was the first sensation, followed by the gentleness of his movements. She bowed her head forward and let her eyes close. His hands were working magic on her, as her entire being began to relax.

"You are amazingly tense," Oliver said, his voice soft and deep. "Do you walk around like this all the time?"

"Mm-hmm," she replied. Warmth was traveling from his fingers down her body, as if every muscle seemed to respond to his gentle ministrations. She let out a deep breath. His hands moved to her shoulders and rubbed the warmth further into her system.

'I could fall asleep right now,' she thought, as his hands kept to a rhythm, moving farther down her back. She leaned forward, resting with her arms against the desk in front of her.

Oliver watched her practically collapse as he worked on her back. His hands moved down towards the middle, and he realized she wasn't wearing a bra. His hands twitched slightly, as he fought to find the air that quickly fled his body. He continued to rub her back in slow, agonizing circles. His body was unfortunately not cooperating with his attempts to think of other things, such as Quidditch drills and cold showers. 'She has no idea what she does to me,' he thought, as Hermione let out a quiet moan of appreciation and anything remotely resembling thought was driven from his mind. His desire was beating back his rational side, and winning.

Hermione hadn't even registered that she made a sound, but her soul was deeply aware of his hands moving over her. She was so caught up in the amazing warmth that his massage was generating; she didn't realize the small flames of her own desires coming to life. Her mind was no longer thinking. She was relaxed and content, more so than she could ever remember. His hands had moved to her lower back and her desire raged to be noticed. Her breathing was becoming slightly heavier and she felt her limbs begin to tingle.

Hermione sat up abruptly, and then stood. Her hands rested on the desk as she turned to look at Oliver with fire and fear in her eyes. All her emotions and stifled needs over the past few weeks were rising within her and she wasn't sure what would happen next. He stood looking back at her, with the same desire evident in his face and body. Her body screamed for his tantalizing touches to continue and she fought to calm the thumping of her heart, as her bottom lip slipped between her teeth.

Desire raced through Oliver's body as he moved her chair from in front of him with his foot and reached for her. Her arms instinctively moved around his neck as their lips met. Heat, instant and all-consuming, flared between them until they were both on fire.

Oliver wanted to touch her everywhere, all at once. He buried one hand in her hair while the other found the small of her back and pulled her to him. His kisses were claiming, while his hands roamed freely over her.

Hermione could feel his hands on her and she wanted to shout with satisfaction. Her body was pulled to his and she felt his arousal low against her abdomen. She pulled his head tighter to her and began to fight for dominance with his tongue. His arms wrapped around her rear and lifted her to settle her legs around his hips. Their pajamas were barely a hindrance and as his arousal met her core, she moaned and gasped, removing her lips from his.

Oliver's mouth moved to her neck, suckling and nipping, as he carried her towards the bed. Her arms were clutching around his neck, while her hands buried themselves in his hair. She pulled his head back and looked into his eyes. He closed them quickly, not wanting her be scared by what lay there. Hermione's lips fastened on his as she begged him to open his mouth with her tongue. He growled and clasped her rear, digging his fingers into her. This pulled her against him again and she cried into his mouth.

Oliver climbed onto the bed on his knees and laid Hermione back, her hair getting trapped under them as he lay between her legs. He leaned to the side to remove it and she rolled on top of him. Her hands pushed at the hem of his shirt to pull it off. He sat up slightly to help and once it was off, she put her hands on his chest to keep him down on the bed, while she sat up to pull her own top over her head. His hands roamed up her small waist to cup her now bare breasts. She tilted her head back as his hands caressed over her, her sodden pajama bottoms resting directly over his bulging ones.

One hand reached around her back and pulled her down to him, capturing her breast with his mouth. She gasped quickly and bit her lip as Oliver drew her into his mouth with his teeth again and again. She looked down, pulling his mouth to hers with strength he didn't know she possessed and kissed him deeply. His hands buried in her hair as they battled back and forth. He pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and sucked, causing Hermione to thrust her hips forward. The hand in her hair clenched, and he pulled back from her.

"M-Mione," he said his voice deep and haunting. "Look at me."

Hermione opened her eyes to see his staring intently back at her. Her breathing was coming in short bursts and she felt him throb between her thighs. She could feel his heart beating hard beneath her, their upper bodies warm from the bare contact. Her eyes were vague and her lips full from all his kisses. "Oliver?" she said in a whisper.

"Love, are you sure?" he asked. His hands were gentle as he pushed her hair away from her face. Her eyes began to clear and a chill traveled down her body. His arms wrapped around her to keep her warm as he watched the high level of passion recede from her gaze. Her eyes began to fill with tears as she rested her forehead on his cheek, gaining control of her breathing.

"Shh now," he murmured, cursing himself in his head for making her cry. "What is it? Are you afraid?" he asked, running one of his hands through her hair. "Hermione? Are you a virgin?"

Hermione popped her head up and looked down at his face, her eyes wide and her brows furrowed. She sat up quickly, covering her naked chest while reaching for her shirt. As she slid off from him, her leg brushed over his arousal and he groaned. Her eyes flew back to his face as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Hermione pulled her shirt over her head, inside out no less, and muttered, "No, Oliver. I am not a virgin. Is that a problem?" After pulling her hair out of her shirt, she glared at him from the head of the bed, her knees drawn under her.

"Um, no. I didn't say that," Oliver began, sitting up fully. He looked over at her with the unspoken question in his eyes.

"I don't normally do this," she said, pulling at an errant string at the bottom of her top. Her eyes flew to his and he nodded. "I am sure that this may come as a shock, but I am not as innocent as some may believe. I just don't jump into bed with every guy I meet."

Oliver raised his brows at this. "I didn't say that either. I am just concerned that every time I kiss you, you pull away. Even though they are some pretty incredible kisses," he said with a smile.

Hermione felt the heat race up her cheeks. "I just don't want to get confused by what we are doing here," she said, waving her hand.

"I am not at all confused, love," he said gruffly, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione felt a small smile creep over her mouth. "Still, our being in a relationship will only complicate matters, not to mention, end badly," she said, the smile dropping.

"Doesn't have to," he said simply. Hermione gave him a look that said she didn't believe him. "Really, all relationships don't end badly. Look at Harry and Ginny; I've never seen two people more in love. Most everyone of our shared acquaintance is paired with someone they love very deeply."

Hermione thought about what he said. Her mind raced as he moved up to lie next to her at the head of the bed. She reflexively pulled back.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you," Oliver joked. "I want to find out what this is between us, literally and figuratively." He sat up to plump up a few pillows under him.

"What do you mean?" She asked, relaxing at his assurances.

"Well, I feel something for you. I am assuming that because you don't normally going around snogging and shagging every male you come across, you feel something for me as well," Oliver stated plainly as he lay back down, his arms behind his head. He crossed his legs at the ankles and waited.

After a few moments of trying to look everywhere but at his very developed chest, Hermione asked, "Was there in a question in there somewhere?"

He chuckled as he watched her eyes sparkle with amusement.

"What do we have between us? I like you, very much. More so than anyone I've met in a very long time," Oliver said. "You are intelligent, beautiful, caring, passionate, and a great kisser." He looked over at her waiting.

"I, uh, well, I like you too," Hermione stammered, fighting another blush. She cleared her throat. "I mean, you are very handsome, as sin I believe was the term. You care a great deal for your family, you are loyal, funny, and, um, you kiss very well, also." Oliver grinned at her. 'Are we really talking about this?' she thought to herself.

"Okay, so we have settled that we like each other, a lot. So why are things between us so difficult?"

"Well, I just don't want to get hurt," Hermione said softly. "You are Oliver Wood, celebrity. Desired by thousands of women, all over the world. What is to say you won't have your way with me and then move on to someone else?"

Oliver's eyes narrowed as she finished. He looked at her in silence. Hermione fidgeted under his gaze. She glanced at him to find herself pinned by dark brown eyes.

"I will kindly ignore the insult to my character that was in there, and simply ask how you know I would do that? If I am so loyal, and caring about family, I mean," he said gruffly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Her eyes flared at his tone.

"Look, it happens. I know for a fact that it happens, so don't get all holier-than-thou with me. You asked, and I told you," Hermione retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Oliver's eyes followed her movements and he struggled to keep his desire under control. Now was not the time. His mind focused on her statement. "How do you know for a fact that it happens?"

Hermione looked at him and opened her mouth, but no sound would come. She looked away as she closed her mouth, blinking her eyes quickly.

Oliver sat up and moved closer to her, as she turned her body away from him even more, her hair falling in front of her.

"Mione? How do you know?" he whispered softly behind her. His hand reached up to pull her hair around her back and rested his hand in it lightly, feeling the shiver travel through her.

"I just do, okay," Hermione's voice quivered. 'Do not cry, you cannot cry,' she told herself.

Oliver sighed. "I really would like to be with you, Hermione. But I can't if you won't let me." His thumb was rubbing softly through her shirt. His eyes closed and he was thinking about what he really knew about her. The thought of someone hurting her deep enough to keep her from any future relationship bothered him. 'Who would be able to hurt her so?' he said to himself.

Hermione was taking in deep gulps of air sporadically to keep herself from dissolving into tears. 'Why? Why does he have to be so wonderful?' her thoughts yelled at her in her head.

As Oliver's mind searched through what he knew, he locked onto one memory. The photo. Hermione and Viktor. Together. His eyes flew open and he looked at her jerking shoulders. He placed his hand on the closest one to him and turned her slowly. As he grasped onto the other, her eyes lifted to look at him. Tears were there waiting to fall.

Oliver swallowed hard and he said softly, "Mione, does this have something to do with Viktor?"

Hermione's eyes opened wide as she pulled away. His hands still on her shoulders, Oliver closed his eyes. 'That's it,' he thought. 'Viktor Krum hurt her.' He had never felt anger course through his system before like he did at this moment. His eyes opened again to see a tear coursing down Hermione's face, her eyes closed. Oliver pulled her into an embrace and she went to him, willingly.

A/N: And that is the longest chapter I have done…..so far. :D

And, just so you know, this little end scene has been floating around in my brain since the beginning. It was inspired by Crowded House's "Fall at Your Feet". Listen to it. Neil Finn is AWESOME!

To my reviewers: YOU ROCK!

TA