Disclaimer: I own the plot, a few characters, but sadly, everything else is Jo's.
A.N. Hey guys! I'm kinda not feeling the love at the moment. Over a hundred hits on the first chapter alone, but I only have four reviews? There's something wrong with this picture here. Let me know what you think! Good reviews, bad reviews, give me something to work with here! Read please, then go click that little 'go' button and leave me a line on what you think! I have an open mind, I'll settle for anything.
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Chapter Two
Oliver Wood, by his own opinion, was a simple man. He required very little to keep him happy; some sleep, some food, and the rest of his waking time spent playing Quidditch. That was all he needed really.
But was he really happy? Lately it seemed he was in a rut. Sure, living and breathing Quidditch was a dream many young boys would dream of, and traveling the world playing some of the toughest competition around was a right old time, but then why was Oliver feeling so empty?
He sat in his study in his rather simple cottage near the sea, polishing the handle of his beloved broomstick. Well, his study wasn't really what it sounded like. It was more a collection of every piece of Quidditch memorabilia that he had collected over the years. There was not an inch of wall space available for anything other than the numerous posters of his favorite teams and individual players. What wasn't taken up by the posters was taken up by large glass shelves, holding awards and trophies. There were a few pictures scattered around, showing his personal life. Pictures of him with his mother, father, and younger sister from one Christmas, another of he and his parents on his graduation day from Hogwarts.
As he sat polishing his broomstick, he pondered over why he was feeling so miserable lately. He couldn't blame it on Quidditch; hell, Puddlemere was doing so well lately it looked like they might have another shot at the World Cup this season. He was captain of the team now, having worked his way up over the years from being on the reserve team to his now coveted position. His teammates were the best ruddy mates a guy could have, and there was not a single negative thing said about the way he handled his team in the press lately.
So it had to be his personal life. Despite the fame and fortune that came with his career, he refused to live the lifestyles of the rich and the famous. He didn't keep a large house, only to sit empty most weeks of the year; instead, he had splurged on a beautiful cottage in the countryside right near the sea. In fact, if he were to walk out of the back door in his kitchen, and walk through the tree line about fifty feet from his door, his feet would touch sand. His family was doing well; his sister was off working with Charlie Weasley in Romania, dealing with those crazy dragons like loons. His father was now retired from the Ministry, enjoying his free time by pursuing hobbies he would have never had time for when he was working. His mother was the same as always, telling him to come home and stay if he ever wanted to get away from it all, sending him delicious leftovers, enticing him to come back home to what he was missing. She kept herself busy by knitting and sewing, in fact, the lightweight, black sweater he was wearing now was courtesy of his mother's handiwork.
Oliver remembered the last time he had seen the Weasley twins, Fred and George. Despite the three year age gap between he and the twins, they had kept up their friendship after Oliver left Hogwarts. Oliver would visit their joke shop from time to time, just to catch up on old news and to try out their latest inventions. He was amazed at some of the things they came up with.
His last visit, about two weeks ago, had been intended to be a quick drop-in visit, but, when they broke out the firewhiskey, Oliver ended up staying a little longer than he anticipated.
"So how's the team doin', Ollie?" George asked, banging the whiskey bottle back down on the table they were sitting around in the back room of the shop.
"Gettin' along fine, I suppose. Keeping busy with the lads and all, not much time for anything else."
Fred and George exchanged knowing looks.
"Not even a fine young lady hanging off your arm lately?" Fred asked with a wink.
Oliver frowned. "When've I got the time to deal with a lass hangin' off me arm?"
"My brother, I do believe I've struck a nerve," Fred said sweetly to his twin.
"In the off season, Ollie, you know, that time when you aren't playing full time? Unless you can't bring yourself to stop living and breathing Quidditch long enough to strike up a meaningful relationship with a girl," George said, exasperated.
"Yeah, come on, Oliver, you can't say it's because you look like a mule's backside. I mean, look at you. What girl wouldn't want to get a hold of Oliver Wood?"
Oliver chuckled. "That's just it, boys. What do I want with a lass who cares for me fame and fortune rather than the person?"
"Well, I suppose they're probably few and far between," Fred started, but George interrupted.
"Say, how long's it been since your last relationship, anyways?"
Oliver thought for a moment. "Nigh on about two years," he admitted.
The twins exchanged disgruntled looks.
"You mean you haven't had a good lay in two years?" George asked incredulously.
Oliver opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it. The twins did not need to know about the occasional girl he brought back from the bars. He was even ashamed of himself when he thought about it.
"I don't need a good lay to make myself feel happy," he said instead, but he knew it wasn't the truth. True, the girls served their purpose, but they only made him feel empty and miserable afterwards.
"Oliver, you can't kid us. We're Weasleys, remember?" Fred said, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver stood. "Well, it's time I get going. Thanks, lads, for the drink and entertainment."
"Oh don't rush off on account of your miserable love life. Someone had to tell you about it, eh George?"
"Too right, my twin," George agreed.
Now, as Oliver polished the same spot he'd been paying attention to for the past ten minutes, he knew that the twins were right. He had a miserable love life. No, take that back, he had absolutely no love life whatsoever. And it sucked. A lot.
That's why he was so miserable. Because he had nobody to share his life with. The last girl he had been with made the mistake of getting drunk and confessing the true reason she was hanging around. Because of his money and his fame. So she could be a part of it, and be in the limelight.
Needless to say, he dropped her like a bad habit. And since then, he had been living alone in his little cottage, praying for the day that his miracle girl would come walking into his life to stay forever.
Oliver sighed and removed his polish rag from his broom handle before he rubbed away the wood completely.
What he wanted, more than anything, was a girl whom he could trust to love him for who he really was, not the Quidditch persona that he had become. He wanted someone intelligent, but not overbearing, someone absolutely beautiful in her own special way, but not vain, someone who wouldn't mind his Quidditch room and the way he could go on for hours about it.
He just wanted someone to love.
0000
Hermione had not been out of the house in almost two weeks. She and Charlotte were clearly suffering from the lack of human contact. Normally, Charlotte would go to her afternoon little league Quidditch practice. She had picked up the talent for it from her father, who had played Chaser on the Ravenclaw team in his time at Hogwarts.
But it seemed that Matt no longer cared about his little girl's happiness. Because he would not let Hermione out of the house, Charlotte could not attend her practices. So Hermione had to contact her little girl's coach and tell him that Charlotte would no longer be apart of the team. She had made up a terrible excuse, and she knew the coach wasn't buying it, but dammit, she was Charlotte's mother, and what she said went, no questions. The coach had gotten the hint after that.
So at the moment, Hermione was sitting on the couch in the living room, Charlotte in front of her. She was braiding Charlotte's hair in the normal, Muggle way, finding it rather relaxing to do something so simple as braiding her little girl's long honey brown locks. It helped her not to think of everything that was happening in her once happy home.
Hermione no longer had any hope that things were going to get better. Matt was as bad as he had ever been, if not worse. Drunker than a fish every night when he finally came home, he no longer paid Charlotte any kind of attention that a loving father would shower his little girl with. Hermione no longer made an attempt to speak to him, as he would become irrational and angry with the simplest words spoken. The only time the two had any contact was when Matt was in need of a good shag. That's all it was anymore. A way for him to get off and have his pleasure.
Hermione felt like a stranger in her own home.
Ginny had written her several times, asking why she hadn't been around to see her and her parents lately. Hermione had prattled off some lame excuses for her every time she wrote back, but in the letters sent back by Ginny, Hermione could tell she wasn't buying into them.
'This is what's it come to. He's taking away my friends as well as my happiness,' she thought sadly after reading Ginny's last letter.
Hermione finally seized her chance to get herself and Charlotte out of the flat a few days later, when Hermione discovered that if she didn't get to the supermarket to get some groceries, they would simply starve.
It was one of those rare days that Matt was actually home, having the day off from the job. It amazed her that he simply did not go out and drink, but she wasn't about to say anything. He was watching tv on the couch when she approached him.
"Matt?"
He grunted to show he was listening.
"Matt, I need to go to the store."
His head snapped around. He glared at her suspiciously. "Why?"
Her temper flared. She kept it in control. "Do you want to starve?"
He stood up so suddenly that she backed away several paces. He grabbed her and yanked her back to him.
"You had best watch your mouth there, my pretty little wife. Why can't you just conjure something up?"
She glared at him. "Because it's a pain in the ass, that's why. If you're so smart, why don't you lift your wand and conjure it up yourself?"
He backhanded her. She went sprawling on the couch.
"You're the woman of this house. It's your job to keep it up," he hissed. "And don't you ever speak to me like that again, do you understand me?"
She glared at him still. "Yes. But I still need to go to the store. And I'm taking Charlotte with me."
He turned away. "Why does she need to go with you?"
"Do I really need to answer that? You took away her Quidditch league. It's the least I could do to keep our little girl happy."
He paced back and forth in front of the couch. He was thinking.
"Fine," he snapped finally. "You are to go straight to the supermarket and come straight back. If you see anyone you know, you keep it short and sweet. If you see Ginny, you make your excuses. And if I find out that you've been talking to any other man besides me, you will pay. And make no mistake, I will find out."
"Then I had better be on my way," she said coldly, standing up and going to retrieve Charlotte from her bedroom, where she was playing with her dolls and pretending not to hear what was going on outside her room.
"Come on, sweetie. We're going to go to the supermarket to get some food."
Charlotte jumped up immediately. "Are we going to Apparate there?"
Hermione smiled at her daughter's enthusiasm. "Sure. But you promise me that you'll hold on tight to my hand."
Charlotte nodded solemnly. "I promise."
"All right. Put your shoes on and be ready to go by the door in five minutes. I need to get some things together."
She left her daughter to wrestle on her shoes and went in search of her purse. When she found it and pulled out her wallet, she discovered she had no money. She hated the idea of having to ask Matt for money, but she had nothing of her own anymore. He had made sure of that.
She walked back out into the living room with her shoes on and holding her purse.
"Matt, I need money."
"Why?"
"How do you expect me to buy food if I don't have any money?"
He yanked his wallet out from his back jeans pocket and pulled some money from it. "Here."
She made it a point to say thank you, but he didn't take any notice of it.
Charlotte bounded out of her room, her shoelaces on her sneakers done up the right way.
"Bye Daddy!" she chirped, running over to Matt and giving him a hug.
"Charlotte, move, you're blocking the tv," he grunted, not even putting an arm around her to hug her back.
Charlotte stepped back immediately, looking confused and hurt. Tears welled up in her eyes at the rejection her father had just showed.
Hermione took her little girl's hand and led her out of the flat. She waited until they were outside of the building on the sidewalk to comfort her daughter, lest the monster upstairs heard her.
She knelt down next to Charlotte and pulled her into a tight hug. "It's okay baby, don't cry."
"Why is Daddy acting so mean? All I did was hug him!" she cried.
Hermione rubbed her back soothingly. "Daddy doesn't know how to act anymore, baby. He's not very nice to Mummy anymore either."
Charlotte pulled back. "Is that why you have a bruise on your cheek?"
Hermione gasped. She had forgotten that Matt had hit her only a short while ago. She had become so used to it that it never seemed to faze her any longer.
She touched her cheek and felt it was swollen. "Charlie girl, is it bad?"
Charlotte's tiny hand touched her mother's cheek. "It's red and bruised."
Hermione cursed silently. She hadn't brought a compact mirror with her and she knew that it would do her no good to try and conceal it. She would just have to hope she saw nobody she knew and if she did, that they wouldn't ask questions.
Hermione stood up and took Charlotte's hand to lead her to the alley around the corner so they could Apparate.
"You know Mummy loves you very much, right Charlie?" Hermione asked as she held her daughter close to her before they Apparated.
She felt her little girl nod against her stomach.
"Okay. Hold on tight. Here we go!" Hermione said, spinning into nothing.
They appeared in another alley a few blocks from the nearest supermarket. Hermione took up Charlotte's hand again and together, they walked briskly to the market and swiftly went inside.
Hermione noticed many people giving her curious glances as they walked down the sidewalks, but she paid them no mind. She knew her bruised cheek was more obvious than she had hoped, but she refused to acknowledge its presence.
She grabbed a cart and instructed Charlotte to hold onto its side as they walked around the market, seeking out the things they needed.
It was wonderful to be out of their flat and to not have to worry about making Matt angry. They felt carefree and giddy for the first time in months.
Hermione realized that she had forgotten Charlotte's favorite cookies. They were on the other side of the store. She glanced at her watch, knowing it would be faster if she allowed Charlotte to get them herself, since she knew exactly what she was looking for and what aisle they were located in.
"Charlotte, I forgot your cookies. Do you remember where they're at?"
Charlotte nodded eagerly.
"Do you think you can get them yourself? Since you remember so well?"
She nodded again.
"Okay. You go get them. But be very careful. Don't talk to strangers, and come straight back to me. I'll be in the next aisle."
"Okay!" Charlotte cried as she raced off around the corner.
0000
Oliver strolled around the supermarket, gathering up the things he felt like eating for the next few days while he was at home. He had no method to his shopping, it was merely whatever he saw that interested him and what he felt like eating at the time.
He stopped and picked up an interesting looking package of cookies. He was dismayed to find they were entirely chocolate free.
He set them back on the shelf and continued on around the corner. He was surprised when something about waist high smacked into him and went flying backwards across the floor.
He realized it was a little girl that had run into him. She was crying and looked scared out of her mind.
"What's the rush there, little lass?" he asked her, looking concerned.
She stared up at him through her tears. She said nothing.
He bent down and picked her up to set her on her feet. "What's the trouble there, lass?"
She hiccuped slightly. "I. . .I can't find my mummy."
Oliver looked even more concerned. "Do you remember where she was?"
The little girl shook her head. "Mummy sent me to find my favorite cookies because she couldn't remember where they were. She said I could find them faster. We have to hurry back home so Daddy doesn't get mad at Mummy."
Oliver was puzzled, but didn't let on. "Well, would yeh like me to help yeh find your mum?"
She regarded him carefully. Her mummy told her not to talk to strangers, but he was so nice to her, and besides, he wanted to help her find her mummy.
"Okay."
He held out his hand and she took it.
"Let's go find your mum. Don't worry your bonny head about it, we'll find her." Oliver said confidently.
0000
"Oh Charlie girl, where did you disappear to?" Hermione whispered frantically as she peered down another aisle, searching for Charlotte.
Aisle after aisle, and no sign of her little girl.
Hermione was growing more panicked by the moment. Why had she let her go off on her own to find those damned cookies? She was only six years old, for God's sake!
'But she's mature beyond her years,' her head reasoned with her.
"Mature be damned," she muttered, racing down another aisle.
"Charlotte Grace!" she yelled.
Why did this store have to be so damn big? It would take a miracle to find her, if she hadn't been kidnapped.
"Charlotte Grace!"
She turned a corner and found her little girl running toward her. She gave a cry of relief and bent down to scoop her up into her arms, where she was safe.
"Oh, thank goodness," she cried. "I thought I had lost you for good, my Charlie girl!"
"I tried to find you, Mummy! I tried to hurry back so we wouldn't be gone so long, and then Daddy wouldn't be so mad at you!" Charlotte cried.
A throat was cleared nearby. Hermione spun around to find a handsome guy standing close to her, looking concerned.
"I, erm, found your little girl. I was helping her find you," he said.
There was something about him that seemed so familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"Thank you," she gasped. "Thank you so much for your kindness!"
"It was no trouble. The little lass was scared out of her mind when she ran into me."
Lass? The accent was so familiar. . .but no, it couldn't be him. . .not now, not with so many memories attached. . .
"Oliver Wood?" she breathed.
He looked confused. "The one and only. But who might you be?"
She set Charlotte down on the ground. "Hermione Granger. Well, McAllister," she said with a bitter voice.
Oliver was stunned. The little third year girl he remembered her to be was no more. She had grown into a beautiful woman. It was hard to see the little girl he remembered her to be when he had graduated Hogwarts.
"Hermione Granger? Wow, it's been awhile since I last saw you," he managed out.
"I can't believe it's you! You're so famous nowadays, I didn't think you would venture out," she said wonderingly.
"Ah, the joys of Quidditch. That's why I'm here in a Muggle market, less people to recognize me," Oliver explained, noticing the wedding band on her left hand.
They stood in an awkward silence. Hermione was amazed at the gorgeous man that stood before her. It had been so long since she had seen him last, over ten years. He was simply amazing.
Oliver cleared his throat. "So I, erm, I read about. . .about Harry. . ."
Her stomach clenched painfully. "Yes. It was very hard to lose him and Ron. It still hurts."
He looked truly sorry. "I'm shouldna mentioned it."
"No, no, it's all right. Sometimes it helps to talk about it. I imagine you miss Harry as well, you knew him almost as well as I did."
He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He looked at her face closely. He noticed the large bruise on her cheek.
"Pardon my asking, but where did yeh get the bruise on your cheek?"
She cursed silently. He noticed.
"Is ever' thing all right, Hermione?"
He noticed the defeated look in her eyes for the first time, and he knew it wasn't because she lost Harry and Ron.
"Everything's fine, Oliver. Really, I appreciate your concern. We're fine," she said hurriedly, but she sounded like she was trying to convince herself of this first.
She looked at her watch. "Oh my, Charlotte, we must get going. We don't want Daddy to worry about us, do we?"
Charlotte looked between her mother and this Oliver person. She wished for just one second that this Oliver was her daddy. But the thought vanished as she thought of how bad that was to wish.
"Yes, Mummy."
Hermione smiled up at Oliver, who stood a good eight inches above her five foot five inch frame. "It was good to see you again, Oliver. Take care, won't you?"
"I will. It was good to see you too. And a pleasure to meet your little lass of a daughter," he said, winking at the little girl.
Charlotte grinned at him.
"Good luck with your Quidditch," she called as she and Charlotte walked away.
He watched her go with a closed expression on his face. He saw the look in her eyes when she mentioned her married name, and he saw the fleeting, scared look that crossed her daughter's face when she mentioned her father.
"Mummy sent me to find my favorite cookies because she couldn't remember where they were. She said I could find them faster. We have to hurry back home so Daddy doesn't get mad at Mummy."
The little girl, Charlotte, had said that when he found her. Hermione's husband, getting mad at that beautiful little girl and her equally beautiful mother?
Her face had been bruised. Her eyes had been deadened.
"The bastard," he muttered to himself, feeling his blood run hot at the thought of someone hurting Hermione. Or her daughter for that matter. He had seen the looks in both of their faces.
It was time to pay another visit to the Weasley twins.