Hermione didn't hear from Oliver all that next week and thought that he must be busy with practice. She received more hate mail though, and even had problems with Ron and Harry again; well, Ron anyway.

"Where'd you get that?" Ron asked in distaste when he saw her wearing her Puddlemere United shirt. Hermione just rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Ron, she knew was a die hard fan of the Chuddly Cannons, even if they were the worst in the league, and didn't like anything from other teams.

"Oliver sent it," Hermione answered.

"You're still talking to him?" Ron asked.

"Of course I am!" Hermione snapped. "He's my friend! I'm not going to stop talking to him just because he's not at Hogwarts any more." Her mind went back to the dreams she'd been having that week and wondered if friend was the right word any more. She and Oliver both recognized their changing feelings for each other, but didn't really talk about how their feelings were changing.

Hermione swallowed as she thought back to the hate mail that had come after the first one she'd told Oliver about. They'd gotten progressively worse.

The second one had said Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you…

The third was You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn…

She sat in the Great Hall with Harry and Ron when an owl flew in and dropped a bulging envelope that she looked at apprehensively. Reaching out she picked it up and gave a cry of surprise as it exploded, showering her in undiluted bubotuber pus. The Slytherins who had been watching began laughing when Hermione cried out in pain as painful boils began to form where the pus had sprayed her.

She fled the Great Hall to their laughter, tears of pain mingled with tears of hurt feelings as she ran up the stairs, heading to the Hospital Wing.

"Oh, dear," Madam Pomfrey murmured when she saw Hermione. "This has got to stop, dear," she said. Like many others, Madam Pomfrey knew about the article in Witch Weekly, but she also knew the truth and didn't blame the girl, but the foul woman who had written it.

"I know," Hermione said, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I–I just don't know what to do..."

"Well, first off," Madam Pomfrey said. "We'll get you cleaned up, then I can start healing the , I would burn any letters that come from people you don't know, at least for a while."

Hermione nodded.

Madam Pomfrey had her remove her shirt and cleaned the bubotuber pus from it and tended to the boils that had appeared beneath it before giving the clean, safe shirt back to her to put on.

After Hermione left the Hospital Wing, thanking Madam Pomfrey for her care, she learned that the jeering didn't stop with the Slytherin students, or even the students from other houses. Potions class was the worst.

"One would think," Professor Snape muttered with a sneer as she began to set up her cauldron. "That a know-it-all like you would know how to handle bubotuber pus, considering we've used it in class before."

Hermione swallowed, keeping her eyes down and sniffed.

"Yes, Professor," she murmured, feeling a heavy weight in the air about her even as the man moved on. She wiped her eyes and continued organizing her supplies while the Professor talked about the lesson and what they would need to brew it. She didn't talk to anyone, but focused on the potion, her bandaged boils hurting again due to the heat in the air from the cauldrons.

13 March 1995

Dear Oliver,

I know I've not heard from you because you've been busy with practice. At least, I think that's why... To be honest, I don't really know any more. I've received more hate mail this week than the first one that I told you about. All because of that stupid article in Witch Weekly. I am really starting to hate that woman.

The second hate mail I got said Harry Potter can do much better than the likes of you…

The third was You deserve to be boiled in frog spawn… and the fourth, was this morning... I don't think there was any letter in it, but was an envelope stuffed with undiluted bubotuber pus. I ended up having to see Madam Pomfrey. I had Potions class after that and Professor Snape made a remark that I should know how to handle it. As though it was my fault the envelope exploded.

Madam Pomfrey suggested that I burn any more letters from people I don't know. I might just do that.

I hope everything's okay.

Hermione

Oliver sighed as he looked over the two letters that had recently come from Hermione. He had seen the article from Witch Weekly, it had been in the locker room. One of the girls on the team had brought it and was going on about it.

"Let me see that?" Oliver said in annoyance after a few moments and the girl had tossed it over the top of the lockers. He'd sat down on the bench and read the article that Hermione had mentioned in her letter and growled before tossing it back on the bench.

"Hey!" the girl, Oliver looked up to see what in fact Freya shouted. "I want that back!"Oliver looked at it in disgust and tossed it back to her.

"What's eating you?" Wilda asked, witnessing the exchange.

"Hermione said she's been getting a lot of hate mail because of that," Oliver answered, tilting his chin toward them where he'd tossed the magazine back. "All because that Skeeter woman's article. "She didn't make any illegal love potions or anything of the sort. She and Harry are merely friends."

"How do you know?" Freya asked.

"Don't tell me you're buying into that horse shite, too," Oliver said. "I know because she told me, and I believe her, that's why. And you know that I was the one to ask Viktor to look after her and make sure she had a good time at the Yule Ball."

"Yeah..." Freya said. "I know... I'm sorry, Woody."

"Please, don't call me that," Oliver said and groaned.

Freya laughed. "Sorry, Oliver," she apologised.

"And you don't think he's the kinda bloke who would step in on her when you're not around, do ya?" Greene asked overhearing the conversation.

"No, I -" Oliver began and broke off, but then recalled some of the letters he'd gotten from both Hermione and Viktor. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I can't fault her if being with him makes her happy–after all Ron and Harry have put her through– but I hope that she's um..." Oliver stopped suddenly, blushing furiously as he realized what he'd been about to say and who he was talking to. "Nevermind," he finished, gritting his teeth.

"Oh, no," Greene said with interest seeing Oliver's expression. "Please, continue."

"No, its nothing," Oliver insisted, glancing around to see that the locker room was still pretty full.

"You're sure?" Greene asked arching a brow.

"Yes," Oliver said firmly, looking at him with meaning in his expression.

"Anyway, you better write to her about those," Greene said and nodded toward the letters on the bench. "She's probably expecting a response and you've been delaying for a while now, though I'm not sure why."

Oliver sighed and nodded, turning back to the letters and reading through them again, trying to figure out a way to respond.

Hermione blinked as an owl swooped in at breakfast Monday, and cringed until she brightened a bit, seeing it was from Oliver. Opening it, she read:

13 March 1995

Dear Kitty cat,

Sorry it has taken me a while to reply, we have indeed been busy with practice, but in truth, I wasn't really sure how to reply after reading the post script you included in your letter. I mean... you have dreams... about me? Yes or no is fine, I'm not asking you to elaborate since you said it wasn't something you wanted to put into a letter. It's just... yeah, not sure how to respond to that. I mean, its not a bad thing, so I hope you don't take my being unsure how to respond as it being bad... I mean, we can't really control what we dream about, can we? Well, most of us anyway. I'm sure that Professor Trelawney would have something to say about that.

Anyway, on other topics you brought up, I would just ignore the Slytherins as best as you can, they aren't worth the trouble of getting into trouble over, and we all know that Professor Snape prefers his own house to others. That's not something you can help either. I think that Madam Pomfrey has the right idea about unknown senders. Hmm... maybe you could stop by the Owl Post on the way through Hogsmeade and talk with them–if their not one of Rita Skeeter's fans–they might have an idea on how to filter your mail, they may even have some ways to help.

I'm sorry to hear about the bubotuber pus in the mail, I agree, that's taking things a bit far. Things like that might be another thing that the Owl Post might be able to help detour.

Well, that's all I have for now, I hope it helps. I miss you, Kitty cat.

Oliver