Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Oliver Wood (sniff), or any other Harry Potter characters, as I am not British, and therefore not J. K. Rowling.
"Thank you so much for coning on such short notice, Oliver," Carloyn Granger said to the fourteen-year-old boy standing on her doorstep. "We really are sorry, but Claire just said she quit and walked out of the house just as we walked in yesterday, and we really need somebody to watch Hermione while we're gone. She tends to get….into trouble."
It was ten o'clock on a summer morning, and Oliver Wood was standing on the front doorstep of a suburban house outside London. He was looking to earn some money for all the trips to Hogsmeade that he would get to go on in the upcoming school year, and so he had posted a sign for "Lawn mowing, babysitting, and more!" at the small store down the street from he house. The Grangers had seen his sign and called the night before, asking him to baby sit their nine-year old daughter, Hermione, the next day.
"It's all right, Mrs. Granger. I don't have anything else to do; I would probably have sat around at home all day, if you hadn't called."
"Oh. Anyway, here's a list of emergency telephone numbers. We'll be back by two. Help yourself to lunch. Hermione's in her room, up the stairs and it's the first door on the left. Please try to keep her calm," She said, and walked out the door, shortly followed by her husband, who laid his hand on Oliver's shoulder and wished him good luck before leaving.
Oliver sighed, closed the door, and walked up the stairs to the girl's room, where he found Hermione on the floor, reading Witches, Evil Stepmothers, and Unhelpful Fairy Godmothers: Why They Do What They Do by Albus Dumbledore. Oliver grinned, recognizing the author. That seems like something he would do, Oliver thought, write something completely fictional about real people like himself.
"Hello. Are you Oliver? I'm Hermione."
"Yes, I'm Oliver," he said. "Nice to meet you. What's that book about?"
"It's about evil characters in fairy tales and their motives for being evil. For example, Mr. Dumbledore says that Snow White's evil stepmother was not only jealous of her stepdaughter's beauty, but also of the time that she spent with her father, the King. She thought that Snow White would eventually turn him against her and that she would be banished. She liked being the queen, and liked the power she held as such, but she also loved her husband, and wouldn't be able to bear being separated from him for the rest of her life. She was a little bit paranoid, and did it out of fear as well as jealousy. Mr. Dumbledore portrays all the supposedly evil characters as being truly good at heart. It makes me feel a little bit bad for them."
Oliver had never seen a child be that excited over a book, especially not a child as young as Hermione looked.
"Wow. That's really interesting. Maybe I'll check it out of the library next time I'm there. So, how old are you?"
"I'm nine and a half. I'll be in the fourth grade at Pineridge Elementary School in September. How old are you?"
"I turned fourteen two weeks ago."
"Oh. Late happy birthday, then. Did you get any good presents?"
"Oh, yeah. Lots. One friend gave me a soccer ball. Another friend who's really into magic stuff gave me a book called Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them. It was really good. My mom got me a great book called The Shakespeare Stealer, by Gary Blackwood."
"Have you read it yet? It's awesome. I love it! I went and saw Hamlet with my parents over Christmas, and I loved that, too! Have you ever read or seen anything by Shakespeare? Twelfth Night is my favorite, but Julius Caesar is pretty good, too."
"Yeah, I've read it! It's one of the few books that I've really enjoyed reading in a while," Oliver exclaimed, and that was the beginning of a friendship between Oliver Wood and Hermione Granger.
Oliver babysat every Monday thru Thursday from ten a. m. until two p.m. for the rest of that summer. They talked about books, what Hermione did in school (Oliver, obviously, shied away from speaking of his own education,) their theories about magic, and sports (Oliver played soccer and basketball over the summers, and Hermione swam.) Oliver learned that Hermione liked reading about magic, but her parents didn't want her to "waste her time on such trivial fantasies." Her favorite subject was math, but she didn't like her third grade teachers very much, so she looked forward to reading class more.
The summer after that, Hermione declared herself too old for a babysitter. However, they still spoke to each other. Sometimes they saw each other at the park or at the pool, and occasionally Oliver would walk over to Hermione's house.
It was on one of these occasions that he was run into by the very person he had wanted to see. She was running out of the house, tears streaming down her face. As soon ass she saw him she tried to wipe them away, but to no avail. Oliver had never before been put in this position with Hermione, but he tried his best to comfort her anyway.
"'Mione, what's up? Why are you crying?" He asked, using his special nickname for her.
"No-nothing."
"Liar. I have never seen you cry before, so I don't expect you to start crying over 'nothing.'"
"My parents said I shouldn't talk about it."
"Oh. You want to go inside and get some ice cream and read something to me? Maybe the next installment of Flight?" He asked. Flight was a story that Hermione was in the process of writing, and reading it out loud, especially to Oliver, while eating ice cream always seemed to cheer her up.
"Not really. How bout we go to the park instead?" She asked. Oliver was surprised, but agreed. She wild her hand into his, and they started walking up the street.
A/N: This is my first story. Pleasepleaseplease review and tell me how to improve my writing.