A/N: Try to understand, I am only going off from what someone else started. She knows who she is.
Oliver pulled her into an embrace and she went to him, willingly.
Hermione felt Oliver's arms wrap around her small shoulders and she leaned into his bare chest, her hands between them. She was still fighting the tears and her breath was hitching. His hands rubbed along her back, soothing her rediscovered tension. Leaning against him, she felt his heartbeat through her cheek. Moments passed and a few tears escaped; she reached up to brush them away.
"Mione?" Oliver murmured, leaning back slightly. She lifted her head to look at his face, focusing on his chin.
Her shoulders lifted with her breathing as she fought to keep control. Her voice was very soft as she began to talk.
"It does have something to do with him," she said, her eyes dropping to focus on her fingers. "But, it also not something that I talk about, so, um, if I start to ramble, um, well, please just bear with me," she finished.
"Here," Oliver said. He reached over for the pillows on the other side of the bed and propped them closer. He sat back against them and reached for her. Instead, she moved her own pillows and sat right next to him, their shoulders touching. Her hands began to fidget again, and he took one in his, rubbing the back with his thumb, waiting patiently for her to begin.
Hermione tried to think about where to begin and what exactly she should say. 'Do I tell him everything? Will he decide not to try to be with me, if he knows all of it?' her mind raced.
"Just start at the beginning, love," Oliver said. Watching her thoughts travel through her eyes as to where to begin was difficult to see, so much pain and indecision passing over her.
Hermione cleared her throat and began to speak about her time studying abroad. She spoke about a few different schools she had visited and her scattered dating history, which was very limited. The more she talked, the more she relaxed. She was even able to laugh a little when a memory or two would surface. Oliver's deep chuckles warmed her spirit and she smiled at him.
"So, you were on your way to the Conservatory," Oliver prodded. She nodded.
"I was a bit nervous, going to Bulgaria at all," she said. "Viktor and I attended the Yule Ball in my fourth year; he was the champion for Durmstrang. We weren't really dating, per say, but we agreed to correspond through letters. This continued for another few years, until, um, the Headmaster…" Hermione stopped. That was such a sad memory, for the both of them.
"Um, right. Okay. Go on," Oliver said, clearing his throat.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, we hadn't spoken since then, and I wasn't sure what we would say, if, we even ran into each other. I knew he was still playing professional Quidditch, and being that I was studying most of the time, I figured the likelihood of us meeting was slim. I wasn't aware of his family's connection to the Conservatory, or his involvement."
"We met at a fundraiser. It was nice to see a familiar face and we both sat and talked most of the evening. He left for a match the next day but we did see each other on occasion. When the season finished, he came to visit me, and we began to date, unofficially. You know how that is," Hermione said, looking at Oliver's face.
He nodded. "Hidden, quiet places without prying eyes and flashbulbs. Yes, I know."
"Right," Hermione began again. She brushed her hair behind her ear and began to fidget again; running her fingertips over Oliver's roughened ones. "Well, this went on for a bit, and it became clear to me that I was developing deep feelings for him. I spent some time with his family, and while they are very nice people, the formalities were quite a bit different from what I was used to. We began to go public with our relationship and the media descended like vultures," Hermione said, slightly clenching her jaw.
"Yes, I remember seeing some very nice photos of you both in the tabloids," Oliver offered. Hermione blushed. He smiled at her obvious reaction to his slight compliment. "I also was there the day you congratulated him when his team beat ours, in Bulgaria."
Hermione looked at him, trying to remember some of the matches she had attended.
"Uh, well, I remember distinctly this beautiful woman racing up to him and jumping in his arms," Oliver said, focusing on her hand in his. He didn't see the flush that radiated from Hermione's face, as she shifted uncomfortably. "I thought I knew her, I mean, you. My teammate took the mickey out of me that day, let me tell you," he finished with a laugh.
"Um, well, yes. We were quite, um, open, at that point in the relationship," Hermione said quickly. Her lips became a thin line as she began to tell the rest of the story. "I still had my studies, which occupied a lot of my time, and he began to travel for the team, promotional things. I was very, well, I missed him very much while he was gone and it started to take its toll on both of us."
"We began to drift apart," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. This was where it became quite painful, and she still wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him about that. She sat very still, lost in the tug of war her mind and heart were engaged in. Oliver watched her eyes close off.
"Hermione, do you want to stop?" Oliver offered. "I think it is pretty obvious how things went from there."
She looked up at his eyes, seeing in the deep brown depths, his need to give her a way to leave off without relating the gory details. Her heart dropped at that point. His wanting to know didn't supersede his ability to see this was difficult for her. His thoughtfulness warmed her to her toes. "Are you for real?" she asked, looking at him with pleading eyes.
"Pardon?"
"Are you for real?" she repeated.
Oliver furrowed his brows. "Um, yes?"
Hermione blinked slowly. "What I mean is, are you really this sweet caring man who would let a woman, me, stop my tale of history with another man, just because it causes me pain? To let your own needs fall away, and not demand the full and complete story?"
Oliver looked at her with a very confused expression. "Mione, that is a very odd question."
"That may be, but I repeat, are you real?" she said quietly. "I have never known anyone who would let it go so easily. Except for maybe Harry and Ron. But they are my best friends and have known me for long enough to know when not to push."
"I don't want you to be in any more pain than you have to, love." Oliver said, his voice gruff as he took both her hands in his. "I don't know when it happened or how it happened, but I don't want you to suffer if you don't have to. I have had relationships go bad. Most people have. I don't need to know every single hurt to understand. Unless you want to tell me?" he said, looking at her.
Hermione looked at the ceiling. A single tear fell from her eyes, down the side of her cheek. Could she trust him? She looked back down to his face when he spoke her name.
"Mione? This is obviously a very serious topic for you. Why don't we sleep on it and you can decide if you want to tell me then?" Oliver said, his eyes searching hers. She closed her eyes and nodded. He reached forward and kissed her forehead before moving to leave. Her hand held tight to his and he looked back at her.
"W-Would you stay? Please?" she asked, her thoughts uncertain as she looked up at him.
Oliver nodded and climbed over to her. They shifted so that he lay next to her back, his arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Eventually, their riotous thoughts were quiet, allowing them to sleep.
Sunshine crept up the bed to shine directly onto Hermione's face the next morning. The sliver of light caused her to squint slightly and attempt to roll over away from the offending wake-up call. But her body couldn't respond. Heaviness over her waist wouldn't allow it. Her hands were close to her chest and felt trapped.
Her mind registered quickly that her leg was propped on something and every so often, a flow of air was caressing her forehead. She blinked slightly and looked out from under her lids.
A stubbly chin greeted her gaze as she moved her head back slightly to look up. Her leg slid off lightly from what she now realized was Oliver's thigh.
Oliver was sleeping peacefully as Hermione studied him, her shock at waking up next to him not as great as she would've imagined. Her mind skipped back over the events of the night before. Being unable to sleep, talking about their research, his hands rubbing her tension away, the heat of their kisses and what almost happened. The heat racing up her face was nothing compared to the next turn her thoughts took. Remembering what they had discussed and Oliver's complete acceptance of her struggle to tell him about her past caused her eyes to tear up again.
'How can I tell him?' she thought to herself sadly.
'How can you not?' her mind muttered back to her. 'He deserves to know it all, if you are to give yourselves a chance at anything real!'
'But what if he hates me?' she argued within herself.
'Then you will at least know. It doesn't make you a bad person, you know, to want to have something special again. You are not betraying anything or anyone.'
Hermione looked up at Oliver's face again, the tears clearing. His brow furrowed slightly then eased back to its normal relaxed state. He moved to his back slightly, freeing her trapped hands. She looked over his face and noticed the small scars located there. One crossed his forehead just above his right eyebrow. The thin white line was obviously an old injury and her fingers itched to trace it. She reached up and drew her fingertip along the mended skin upwards, towards his hairline. His hair brushed against her hand and she smiled.
Moving her eyes down his face, she noticed another small scar on his jaw. This one was not as long as the other, and still had a pinkish quality to it. 'That is a newer one,' she thought to herself, and traced it as well.
Oliver felta soft touch on his forehead and dragged himself reluctantly from the dregs of sleep. Another brush was felt at his jaw and he breathed in deeply, still fighting to stay asleep.
Hermione pulled her finger away quickly when he breathed in. She watched his eyes move behind his lids, as if he was searching for something. His brow furrowed again and he pulled his arm towards his body. Being it was trapped beneath Hermione, he also pulled her onto his chest.
His eyes blinked open as he realized the weight on his chest was not just a pillow, but softer and more pleasing, definitely. He looked down to her wide eyes, staring up at him, and smiled.
"Hi," he said, his voice deep and resonant.
"Hi," she whispered.
He kissed her forehead and snuggled around her even more. "How did you sleep?" he asked, his hand rubbing absently on the small of her back. Her arms were trapped under his, her hands resting lightly on his back.
"Um, fine."
"Mm-hm," he replied. "Been awake long?"
"No."
Her short whispered answers were starting to alert him to something he knew he should remember. His mind cast about for what it was, when she spoke again.
"Shouldn't we be getting up?" Hermione asked, uncertainty in her tone.
"Oh, I don't know. I kind of like it right here," he said with a grin.
Hermione felt his smile over her head and started to giggle.
Oliver pulled back from her quickly. "Did I just hear you giggle?" he asked in a mock serious tone. This only caused her to giggle again, her face pressing into his chest.
Oliver was starting to react to holding her in his arms, in a bed no less. The giggles were so unlike her and stirred him deeply, which, when he would think on it later, was very odd indeed.
He pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. His hands were rubbing all along her back now and it was eliciting a disturbing response in both of them.
Hermione's arms crept over his back and her hands began to caress the warm skin. The touches were not like the night before, but tentative, searching. She could feel his hands roaming her body and knew he would take it slow. The heat between them was intense the night before, whereas now, they were stoking the embers carefully.
Oliver cleared his throat again and began to pull away from her. He didn't want to push her but his body wasn't cooperating. All the blood was rushing away from his brain and he knew if they continued, where it would lead. Her hands grabbed onto his back for a second and then she slid her arms away from his sides slowly, the fire from her touch burning his already heated skin.
"Um, why don't you take a shower and I will meet you downstairs for breakfast?" he suggested. Hermione's lips were slightly open as she looked at him, her eyes stillfilled with the drama of the evening before, but also with the passion he loved so much.
'Did I just say loved?' he thought.
His face gave nothing away of his thoughts as she nodded and began to rise from the bed. Oliver pulled her back to him quickly. His mouth found hers softly andhis kiss was gentle and searching. He squeezed her lightly and let her go, to climb off the side of the bed.
Hermione gathered her toiletries and clothing while Oliver watched; his body angled slightly, one leg stretched out in front of him. She let a small smile cross her face before she left the room, her eyes watching his as she closed the door.
Oliver flopped on his back, willing his heated blood to cool. How long would this last, he wondered.
Hermione leaned against the closed door of the bathroom, her heart feeling very light and beating hard. 'I don't know how long I can last,' she thought to herself.
A/N: Okay, I hope that satisfies you for now. I will try to keep updating as frequently as possible, but I have company coming today, so we will see. At the most, it will be every other day or so. Hang in there! Read and Review, please.
