Oliver read Hermoine's reply with satisfaction. He didn't think they would turn him down, not in times like these, but he wanted to make it official. What was the point of working for good if you're not really working for it? He tossed on some muggle clothes he had laying about his dingy flat-jeans and a threadbare rugby shirt.
He didn't know Hermione as much else than a friend of Harry's, but he did know one thing from his interactions with her-she was smart. She was capable. And in the absence of too many other options, Hermione seemed like a good, solid person to meet with. He ran his hand over his close cropped hair, took a deep breath and thought "3 Hampton Place".
Time to make it official.
With a crack, he went from his messy apartment to the front of a building on a quite-looking street. His breath came in great huffs of fog (why didn't he remember a jacket if he was going to wear muggle clothes), and he quickly ran up the stair, knocking at the door. He smiled in anticipation. "Well, here goes nothing," he mumbled to the door.