"At Second Sight"

Author's Note: It's been a long, long time since I have attempted to write a fanfic, not to mention a novel-length one however I have had a recent urge to write so here I am back at fanfiction.net. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed my older stories recently, though I haven't had a chance to thank you personally, I appreciate each review heaps! Heaps of people have been e-mailing me lately about my stories Hermerella, Changes and Crystal Tears- unfortunately, at this point in time I have no future plans to continue with them. Things could change in the future but at the moment I'm more interested in writing this one. I'm really sorry. Anyway, 'At Second Sight' is going to be a Hermione/Oliver fic and if you have read or seen 'A Walk to Remember' then that is the sort of thing to expect as it is going to loosely follow that plot. Please note that a lot of facts have been changed, ie, their year levels and this is because I felt it would be more believable if the characters were closer in age. I also apologise for such a long author's note, I just had to get it all out straight away. And now, without further ado...

Chapter One...

I didn't know what to expect when I decided to apply for the English School of Quidditch (ESQ). It wasn't really something I'd questioned. I was going to be a pro Quidditch player and that was the end of story, it had been my life's dream for as long as I could possibly remember and the thought of it not coming true was something too unbearable to even think about. I guess I just thought that seeing as I was a darn good player and the captain of the good ol' Gryffindor team that I'd immediately be accepted. After all, I didn't know any other player who could beat me with those Quaffles.

But then something totally out of the blue happened. I was kindly informed by my house teacher that to even apply for the ESQ, I needed to have academic grades that were at least of an A standard. Academic meaning non-Quidditch related. And A meaning above C which is where my average currently sat. It was at the beginning of my seventh and final year that I realised something rather important that had previously skipped my mind.

I was in a lot of trouble.

The first thing my house teacher, Professor McGonagall told me was that I needed a tutor in Arithmancy, Potions and Muggle Studies. Coming from a magical background I still had no idea what a 'telephone' and 'computer' was, even if that was stuff you were meant to have studied in your very first year at Hogwarts. Now you're probably thinking 'what an irresponsible boy this Oliver Wood is... how could he let his grades fall this far behind and not do anything about it?' or maybe you're thinking 'well, what's the big deal? Study hard and all shall be good'. Nuh-ah. Not quite. To be perfectly honest with you, it felt like my life was over. If I was to be tutored in three subjects that would mean at least three nights of extra study than usual and that's on top of the usual homework. Three nights without Quidditch was something I never thought would happen. It was disastrous. Catastrophic. Incomprehendable. No.

So that's what I told Professor McGonagall. Now, don't get me wrong, she was a decent teacher. A little on the frumpy side and a little bit too strict but all in all, an improvement on Snape who had spent three years of his life deliberately trying to make things harder for me than they already were. I'm not an academic student. Never have been and probably never will be. Let's just say that Snape liked reminding me of that fact.

But back to Professor McGonagall. I suppose she kind of expected that response from me because she seemed well prepared with a come back. She pretty much told me that this was my life I was talking about, not just a couple of measly weeks. She said that if I wanted to be a pro-Quidditch player that I needed the right grades to get into the right school and if Quidditch was my real passion then I would have to do it. When she put it like that I really didn't have much of a choice did I?

The next step was finding the right tutor. I suggested Amy Torres, another seventh year Gryffindor. She was a real nice girl; gorgeous long legs and real great blonde hair. Professor McGonagall suggested Percy Weasley. I then suggested Melanie Goulburn, a seventh year Ravenclaw. She wasn't bad either; silky shiny black hair and really big green eyes. Professor McGonagall suggested Percy again.

So you can kind of see where this was going. Professor McGonagall was determined for my tutor to be anybody except for the attractive girls who I wanted while I was determined for my tutor to be anybody except Percy. Not that Percy wasn't a mate. He was a real great guy, infact a real great friend too. But the thought of being locked up in a study room with Percy for two hours three nights a week was enough to give me goosebumps. Because I knew that Percy would get frustrated and angry with me if I didn't get the answers right after three hundred attempts and three hundred attempts was usually how long it took me to figure something else. No, I needed to find somebody more... patient. And patience wasn't high on Percy's list of personality traits.

Eventually, Professor McGonagall and I resorted to looking through student roll lists. Of course I figured the longer it took to find a tutor, the longer it would be until I had to start being tutored. I was really getting my hopes up when Professor McGonagall couldn't find anyone in the sixth or seventh years and was just about ready to celebrate when suddenly she looked up from her lists and smiled.

"Bingo!" she cried.

"Bingo?" I asked, a blank look of confusion on my face.

"I've found you the perfect tutor," she smiled triumphant.

I couldn't help but let out a slight groan. "Yeah... who?"

"She's a fifth year but I think you'll like her. Her name is Hermione Granger. You should know her, she's a good friend of Harry Potter's."

I forced a smile. I vaguely knew who Hermione was. I'd seen her around in the Gryffindor Tower often enough. I'd seen her often enough to know she was no super model. And to me, it couldn't get much worse than that.

* * * * *

I suppose I must sound awfully nasty to you. After all, I was only a teenage boy obsessed with sport and how girls look. Hermione wasn't disgusting or feral to look at. She didn't have bad personal hygeine and she didn't smell like rotten eggs or anything. She was just... plain. After a few close up looks at her I even figured if she actually took a bit of care with her appearance she'd look all right. Naturally, I put that thought out of my mind very quickly.

I hadn't had the courage to tell any of my friends that I needed a tutor. Though my friends were usually all right and understanding, not even they would be able to understand that I needed a tutor to get into the ESQ. On top of all this, Hermione was only a fifth year and to be a seventh year being tutored by a fifth year was extremely humiliating. I was also still trying to figure out just how to fit in enough Quidditch training between study sessions.

Our first meeting took place in the astronomy tower at seven o' clock one Friday night. I was already in a bad mood because seeing as it was a Friday night and I was a seventh year I was meant to be at Hogsmeade with my friends drinking Butterbeer and mucking around. Instead I was stuck at school. And there was no way I could explain this to Hermione, after all she'd never experienced the privelages of being a senior student and somehow, I felt that even if had been a seventh year, she still wouldn't have had the most rivoting of social lives.

"Hi Oliver," Hermione said. It was clear that she too was nervous and I could tell from the way she didn't quite look at me. Her eyes sort of gazed off to the side of my face like she was looking at something on the wall behind me. Her greeting also surprised me because she called me by my first name and not my last, which is what most people called me.

"Hi," I grunted, staring at the ground wishing that it would suddenly swallow me up or something.

"Ahem," she cleared her throat after realising that I was going to make no further conversational efforts. "I suppose we better get started then."

I must admit, I give her credit for her attempts to be cheerful even when it was like the room had a layer of dislike floating on top of it.

"Yeah," I grunted again and followed her to a table where she had neatly set up a pile of seventh year textbooks, some blank sheets of parchment, a brand new bottle of blue ink and some standard quills. I guess she didn't use sugar quills like normal students did.

It wasn't anything personal towards Hermione. Looking back, I really did act very selfishly and rude. After all, it wasn't like I was paying her to tutor me and she didn't have to be there. Unlike me, she had a choice and she chose to help me and I never really showed her how grateful I was, even if I didn't realise it immediately. It's very lucky Hermione was understanding and persistent because I'm truly surprised she didn't just walk out on me right there and then. Rather though, she sat down opposite me and faced me.

"So we'll start on Muggle Studies to get warmed up and then we'll try a bit of Potions and hopefully we'll get round to Arithmancy because I was talking to your teacher, Professor Thudgepin today and he mentioned you had a test coming up. Now you were up to chapter eleven in 'A Wonderful Muggle World' I believe and you were studying the way children are brought up yes?"

I couldn't believe what she had just said. Hermione had sure done her homework, I'll give you that much. Partly out of shock, I just nodded in return.

"Okay then... uhh..." she glanced down at the textbook and smiled awkwardly at me (or more towards the wall behind me again). "We'll begin with a quick quiz just so I know what you already know and don't bore you too much."

I lay back in the chair and crossed my arms. "Okay," I managed to say.

Yeah, yeah, you don't need to tell me. I was being very hostile and for no reason I know!

"So how are muggle children fed?" Hermione asked.

"Through their mouths," I replied sarcastically.

Giving me a look of despair and also frustration, she continued. "And if the parents are busy or working, where do they leave their children to be looked after?"

"Somewhere else."

"Okay... well, how about, how long is a piece of string?"

I didn't answer. Not because I noticed the ridiculous question, but because I didn't actually hear her. I was too busy staring out the window at the stars wondering if my friends were having a good time in Hogsmeade. At that moment I was feeling awfully sorry for myself.

My noticable lack of interest was the last straw for Hermione who slammed the book down on the table. The sudden thumping noise and the vibrations the table sent off were enough to regain my attention. I stared at her blankly until she began to turn pink.

"Look Oliver, I do not have to be here. I know you're obviously very upset that you need a tutor but really, you could at least try to be respectful of me." Her tone was so harsh that she looked almost scary. Then, in a much more peaceful and quiet manner she continued. "Hey," she said more softly. "I know you don't want to be here. Neither do I but I think tonight probably isn't the best night for a study session when you're obviously not in the most happy of moods. How about we meet in the library tomorrow night at eight and we'll discuss our options then. When you're in a calmer mood hopefully."

I was again too stunned for words. "All right, that's fine by me," I replied and walked out of the room without even taking another glance back at her. I left everything for her and her weird eyes that didn't look you in the face to clean up all the textbooks and paper and also the ink which had been spilt when she'd slammed the book down.

I didn't need a tutor. I needed Quidditch.