Hermione collapsed onto a chair in Oliver's office, tears falling down her cheeks. She wiped at them, rubbed her eyes and sniffed, trying to calm herself down. Nothing helped. She curled herself up in a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. He sat down beside her, in the adjacent chair. He placed a reluctant hand on her back and gently rubbed, trying to soothe her. She was shivering and shaking.

Oliver stood up, magically silenced the room and conjured a blanket which he draped on her. She muttered thanks, but it didn't come out like that. He couldn't understand a word she said.

As she struggled to catch her breath, he began to get really worried.

"Hermione, are you all right?" He looked at her like she might break into shattered pieces at any second. That was how she felt.

"N---no. I---I'm--n--n-not!"

He continued to rub her back gently. "Shhh. It's okay."

She rocked back and forth, sobbing and shaking her head. He didn't try to talk after that. He knew she'd been through a lot, what he didn't know. But he did know that she needed some time to just cry, to let it out.

She was grateful for him.

A half hour later, she'd finally calmed down enough to say complete, coherent sentences.

"What happened?" He asked her softly.

She looked up at him suddenly. Her hair was a matted mess, her eyes swollen and puffy. They stung like mad. She tucked her hair behind her ears.

"It's awful, Oliver. You don't want to hear it."

"Maybe I don't," agreed Oliver, "but you need to say it."

She swallowed, dabbing at her eyes with the tissue he'd given her a while ago. She shook her head again, "I can't. I can't say it. I've never said any of it aloud."

"You can. You need to, Hermione." He nodded at her, encouraging her to go on.

"Why are you bothering with me?" She asked, putting her hands in the air. "Why are you being nice?"

"Everyone deserves to be respected and to be treated nicely, Hermione." He sounded so old when he said that. With that statement, she suddenly realized that Oliver was not the Oliver she remembered. He'd grown up.

She nodded slowly and the whole story spilled out of her like a wave of water crashing into a sandy shore.

By dinnertime, the whole of Hogwarts were looking for Hermione. Friends and faculty included. Harry and Ron were beside themselves with worry. Blaise would tell anyone who'd listen (ie. Slytherins) that she'd gone completely mad and beaten him to a pulp.

Lavender and Parvati were afraid for themselves. They didn't want to share a room with a crazed maniac.

Seamus and Dean looked at Muggle teen magazines while talking in low whispers about where Hermione could possibly be.

Harry was pacing the Gryffindor common room for the twelfth time when Ron finally spoke to him.

"You're going to fall through the floor pretty soon, Harry. You're wearing it down." Ron sighed. "You're making me more nervous."

"Sorry," muttered Harry. "Can't help it."

Ron stood up from his chair, "Where is she?!"

Harry shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. But by the looks of Blaise, she was pretty angry."

"Pretty angry doesn't cover it, Harry. She was right pissed. And for good reason! That arse! How could he have hurt her like that?"

"Keep your voice down," hissed Harry, glancing around the room. "No one else knows!"

"Sorry," replied Ron sheepishly. "I forgot." Harry had told Ron in a quiet whisper at dinner that Blaise was the guy who'd hurt Hermione. Ron, as you can tell, was outraged. He wanted to go and finish off Hermione's work by taking out Blaise's heart. Harry refused to let him.

Professor McGonagall entered the common room and told everyone to go to bed around midnight. Harry and Ron didn't want to, but she insisted.

She woke just Harry and Ron up at 3 am (they'd only been sleeping for 5 minutes) and ushered them out of Gryffindor tower in a hurry. Apparently, Dumbledore needed to see them.

Dumbledore was standing in the doorway of a room Harry'd never been in when Professor McGonagall left them.

"Miss Granger has been found," said Dumbledore quietly, glancing in the room.

Harry and Ron peered in apprehensively. She was fast asleep in a chair, her head on top of Oliver's, his head on her shoulder. They were both wrapped in a blanket and looked peaceful.

Ron and Harry pulled back, looking curious and scared all at once.

"Oh no, Hermione!" Ron moaned, leaning against the frame of the door. He suddenly stood up, "Who killed her? Did Blaise? I'll kill him!" Ron shook his head angrily, "And he got Oliver too! The Chudley Cannons will never be the same again!"

"Mr. Weasley, kindly quiet your voice down. Miss Granger is not dead and neither is Oliver."

Harry gave Dumbledore a questioning expression while giving Ron a 'calm down, you're scaring me' expression.

Dumbledore obliged, "I came here looking for Professor Wood's help. I was going to ask him to join our search party for Hermione. There was no need." Dumbledore's voice was grave and had a hallow sound to it. "Do you know of their relationship?" His placid blue eyes narrowed on Harry.

"No, sir. There is no relationship. Hermione has just had a very hard break up. I doubt she'd enter into anything yet...especially with a Professor." he added, wishing Dumbledore didn't look so pensive.

"That's right," agreed Ron. "She's not dating Oliver....er...I mean Professor Wood."

"I understand that he is an old friend, Mr. Weasley. It is quite all right for you to call him Oliver...as long as there are not other Professors present. I doubt Professor McGonagall would want you calling her Minerva." He chuckled very lightly. "Or Professor Snape, Serverus."

"No, I don't think they would," said Harry, looking in the room again. "Are you going to wake them up?"

"I must. I wouldn't want word getting around the school that they were together when they really aren't. My guess is Miss Granger needed someone to talk to and Mr. Wood was just the first person she saw."

Harry and Ron nodded glumly. Ron sighed, "She's really upset, Professor."

"I do know that, Mr. Weasley. I hope that you will tell her to come and talk to me if she ever needs a shoulder again. I don't think it best for her to go to Oliver again."

"Yes, sir," said Ron. Harry nodded.

"Now, then. So I do not embarrass them, would you two wake them up? Once Miss Granger has run off very worried, tell Oliver that I wish to see him in my office immediately. Miss Granger is not to know that I saw her here, boys."

Ron and Harry nodded and watched Dumbledore walk off. Harry thought it was a very noble thing for Dumbledore to do...and come to think of it, a very Dumbledore thing to do.

"Hermione," hissed Ron, walking into the room. "Oliver!"

Oliver's head snapped up, knocking Hermione in the chin. She woke up with a start, her hand flying to her chin. She cried out in pain then looked around. "OH NO!"

"Shhhh," whispered Harry. "You fell asleep, get back to the common room before anyone finds out."

Hermione jumped up, the blanket falling to the floor in a heap. "I'm really sorry Oliver. Thanks so much for listening to me."

Oliver nodded and smiled a bit. All three guys watched as she ran out, down the hallway.

"Does anyone know?" Oliver asked, his voice sad as he stood up.

"Dumbledore. He didn't want Hermione to know he knew. But he wants to see you in his office." Answered Ron.

Oliver put a hand to his forehead, "Oh no." He shook his head, "I'm going to be sacked."

"No, you're not," stated Harry firmly.

"He won't sack you, Oliver." said Ron.

Oliver sighed loudly, "I'll see you later. Thanks for waking us up."

Harry and Ron breathed sighs of relief once Oliver was out of ear shot.

"I reckon he likes her," said Ron on their way back to the common room. They were walking slowly and talking quietly. It was late and they didn't want Filch to catch them. Even though they knew they wouldn't be in trouble. It still was not something they wanted to be faced with at the moment.

"Yeah, I think you may be right." Harry said, turning and walking up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

"This is bad," said Ron.

"This is really bad," replied Harry.

A dark figure stepped out of the shadows in front of them. His smooth, slick voice carried down the hall to where they stood, "And it's only going to get worse."

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