__Chapter Four__
Falling
"He doesn't even remember me... Be logical Hermione, you'reworking." She thought to herself.And with that tried to focus on the article she had to write, ignoring the looks and the mannerisms of the handsome boy who held the umbrella above her. This was going to be quite an evening.
I
As the three of them made their way to the pub, James continued to talk animatedly about the final goal.
"C'mon mate, you nearly had it!" James had proclaimed then carried on with a detailed description of exactly how Oliver should have blocked the quaffle.
Oliver, however, wasn't paying attention. He nodded at the appropriate intervals and smiled lightly, throwing in "Uh-huh"s and "Spot on"s when necessary but was not entirely conscious of what his best mate was saying. For the first time in his life he had found something that distracted him from Quidditch: the girl under the umbrella he held. Every so often he'd sneak a side-long glance at her and nearly got whiplash from trying to turn away the particular time Hermione had caught him staring. He couldn't explain the perplexing attraction he had felt growing since he had seen her on the pitch nor strange allure she held for him. All he was sure of was that these emotions, in their spontaneity, terrified him.
He had met all sorts of gorgeous women that would have been walking hits to Hermione's self esteem. He had had the opportunity to win over plenty of girls and resisted even veelas on a couple accounts. But as he sneaked another sidelong glance at Hermione, none of this mattered to him. All were paled in comparison to her. Once they reached the pub he realized there was potential for falling in love with her.
HAVE YOU GONE ABSOLUTELY LOONEY! He thought to himself the second he admitted in his mind that he was falling for her. You've known her a grand total of what? 5 hours?
Oliver let out a frustrated sigh. As passionate as he was about Quidditch, genuine feelings towards anything besides it, especially a younger reporter witch, were foreign to him.
"Oliver?" He heard a voice call. Hermione was lightly pulling the umbrella from his hands. Apparently they were inside the pub. "Erm. You okay?" She asked with a glimmer of concern. "Aye. I'm chust fine " he retorted. His accent was, as always, more sibilant when he was embarrassed. Hermione raised an eyebrow but couldn't help but smile as Oliver awkwardly shut the umbrella and made his way to the giant booth half the team was sharing.
"Maybe I should find another table…" Hermione said to no one in particular as she noted that the portion of the team already seated in the booth was pushed closely together.
"No. Don't worry about it. I think there's just enough room," Oliver said, sliding in just enough to give her a small bit of space close beside him. James had noted the peculiarity and gave Oliver the "what the hell is wrong with you?" look. Oliver simply shrugged.
II
Seeing as there was no room left at the edge of the table, James was forced to meander over to the opposite side, leaving Hermione and Oliver sitting tightly together in the corner. Oh gosh. This is going to be awkward... Hermione thought, recalling their walk to the pub, during which he had barely said two words to her. Oliver had seemed largely quiet and brooding, giving Hermione had the nagging feeling that her presence was making him uncomfortable. He probably hates me. I mean… I'm just some reporter here to spoil his fun. She sighed, Might as wellget it over with...
The process of getting her notepad out of her pocket was a difficult one that included her having to stand up and try to yank the thing out of her back pocket in what little room the booth gave her. Right as she pulled the notepad out she completely lost her balance on the slippery floor and she found herself about to fall sideways into Oliver.
No nonoo! she thought frantically, but before anyone else had time to notice, Oliver had wrapped his arm around her waist, caught her and hoisted her back into the seat booth. She found herself flushed red with embarrassment sitting half-way on his lap.
"Oh... Erm...I..." she stated uneasily then mumbled a quiet "Sorry..." to Oliver and slid into the tiny space left beside him. She looked up at him sheepishly, expecting him to be embarrassed or at least pretending it hadn't happened, however she found him laughing lightly at the occasion. "That was hilarious" He said with a smile.
"Yeah well...Try being the one falling" she tried to say sarcastically but failing and smiling instead. "And erm. Thanks… That could have been incredibly embarrassing..."
Oliver chuckled, "No problem. These guys would never let you live it down, you know."
"Right…" Hermione agreed, then placed her notepad on the table. "Oliver…" She began to say. He enjoyed the way she said his name. Och, snap out of it, mate. He told himself, and then turned to her, giving her his complete attention. "Yes?" He responded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was Hermione's turn to ogle. He has really nice lips—STOP IT, she mentally chastised. She shook her head, "Erm. I was supposed to interview you and James but it seems like he's a bit preoccupied." The two of them glanced at the opposite end of the table where James had a row of shot glasses lined up before him. A small crowd was cheering him on.
"Yeah…" Oliver said raising an eyebrow. "Well, you can interview us tomorrow, you know…"
Hermione bit her lip, indecisive. "I'm not sure if I was supposed to stay here overnight. I was thinking of catching the seven o' clock train?"
Oliver tried to maintain a serious face but couldn't help grinning, "Hermione, it's eight o'clock."
Her face fell and she whipped around, groaning as her eyes met the clock that spelled out a large 8:23.
"Oh." She said, turning forward and frowning.
Oliver's tone became sympathetic, "Let's just grab a pint, yeah? Work can always wait." He flashed a grin and with that she was won over.
III
The two of them had wandered over to the bar in an attempt to free themselves of the cramped booth full of now drunk Quidditch players.
"So…" Oliver began, handing her a glass full of frothing liquid, "What brought you to our lowly Quidditch pitch today Ms. Granger?"
Hermione stifled a squeal and paused a moment, admiring his voice. The words 'Ms. Granger' in his voice really did sound lovely… enough for her to wish 'Granger' were something more along the lines of 'Wood'. No. a voice in her head chastised, You're working. You're working. You're working… she tried to repeat to herself. She took a big swig of her drink and settled for a terse, "It's complicated…"
"Well I'd like to hear it nonetheless. We've got time." Oliver said warmly, "I'm assuming it'll be at least an hour before this rain lets up… or before that lot can even walk straight." He laughed and nodded towards the group of players, where Calum and a beater were arm wrestling. Hermione offered a pained smile. "Erm. Okay well, I went back to the muggle world for something of a little break." She conveniently left out her motive and continued. "It was going alright," She wrapped her hands around the cup sitting before her, "Well no… it wasn't that's a lie. It was absolute hell. Anyway, yesterday morning I was fired from the newspaper I was writing for and there was somehow an opening at the Prophet so I took the opportunity, was assigned to 'sports' and here I am."
Oliver's eyebrows furrowed as he tried to digest the story.
"…You left the wizarding world?" He asked.
"Well, yes. I am muggle born. It's not as foreign to me as it probably is to you"
"Oh. Yes, that's right." He replied retrieving the information from a dusty recess of his mind. "So you didn't like it there?"
"No not at all. I suppose it's alright for summers and such but actually living there on my own was incredibly depressing." Her eyes met his and she was surprised to see him actually paying attention. Oliver was beginning to smile.
"Oliver Wood!" She exclaimed, "You asked to hear my story, which I'm obviously upset about and you start smiling!?"
"No no, it's nothing like that." He replied. Hermione glared as his smile grew.
Aware of the fact that she was still upset he explained himself "I'm glad you don't want to go back…that you're staying I mean."
Hermione's anger disappeared and she blushed. "Oh.." was all she could manage. God, he's good…but he's probably just being polite, right? she thought to herself.
Oliver glanced at his watch and let out a sigh of relief. "Well while I have you all warm and fuzzy I think it's safe to tell you that your train just left."
Confused by his words Hermione simply stared and muttered a quiet "What?"
"Och lass, everyone knows the clocks are wrong in this place. It's barely 7:05."
"Bloody hell, Oliver! You bastard! I could have made it!" Hermione said, getting to her feet.
"Language!" He said with a laugh and tugged lightly at her arm. "C'mon, what are you so eager to get back to? More work?"
She shot a question back at him, "Why were you so eager to keep me here?"
Oliver's face went blank and he became hyper aware of the fact that his response could very possibly change the course of his life. Up to this point, his life had consisted of two things, breathing and Quidditch. The rest had been disposable. Now, as a livid yet glorious woman with bushy brown hair stood before him, he felt a change within himself. He cared about her. He was ensnared by everything about her from the way she seemed so dedicated to a job she had only had for a few hours, to the way she bit her lip. Her very breathing intrigued him. He swallowed. There was no way around it.
"I…wanted to spend more time with you? I like you, Hermione." His voice was quiet as he made plans to blame his statement on the drinks if she thought him forward.
Hermione sank back into her seat, utterly shocked. Did he just say he liked me? I believe he did. "Oh…" she said. He had left her speechless quite often today… and it was rather rare for her to be speechless. She paused, considering his words and after a moment she offered him a teasing smile, "Well… You still made me miss my train."
"Ah, I'm not going to apologize for that." Oliver said, smiling triumphantly.
"Cad." Hermione said with a laugh and took another sip from her glass.
IV
The two of them felt incredibly at ease since they had acknowledged their mutual attraction and had fallen into the step a simple conversation as they sat at the bar of the crowded pub.
"You mean to tell me you only came to the Gryffindor games because Harry was playing? So you have no genuine interest in the sport?" Oliver exclaimed incredulously after Hermione had confessed her secret distaste for Quidditch matches.
"Well I enjoyed watching you all play today. That was great fun." She shrugged.
"But you've never played a match? Not even as a kid with friends?!"
"Oliver, must I remind you again that I'm muggle born?" She laughed lightly, "We'd play games like hide-and-seek or football."
"I can't believe it." He said downing the rest of the glass in his hand and adding it to the small crowd of glasses they had finished.
"I guess I just don't like flying, to be honest."
"Well maybe no one's ever shown you how to do it correctly. That's easily remedied." Oliver said with a grin.
A very drunk James interjected, "Och mate, you've just met the girl. That sounded …" James paused, his vision hazy. "vurry dirty, Oliver." His words were slurred. "What are you two on about?" James asked leaning heavily on Oliver.
"Erm, flying James. And I think it's about time we get you home…"
"Yess…" James said with sleepy eyes, pointing with terrible aim at Oliver's face. "You're a g-good man." And with that, James passed out drunk upon the floor of the bar.
"Blimey…" Oliver said crouching down and slinging James' unconscious body over his shoulder. "Erm…sorry you have to see this." He said to Hermione with an apologetic look.
"Don't worry about it," She said with a smile and the two of them followed the rest of the disoriented team outside. The cool air stung their noses the second they got out of the pub and the fact that she had nowhere to stay suddenly hit Hermione.
"Erm, Oliver?" She asked as the two of them walked in the direction of his flat, Oliver still with James slung over his shoulder.
"Yes Hermione?" he replied in a sweet tone that was altogether unfamiliar to him.
"I haven't a place to stay…"
"Oh, erm, right. Well you're welcome to stay with James and me…" He noted her reaction to what probably sounded scandalous to Hermione and took the statement in a different direction," but seeing as you seem to be a girl with a sense of propriety, let me drop off James and I'll show you to this couthie wee inn down the road."
She smiled at his remark, enjoying his accent. "Brilliant."
V
Once James had been dumped on his bed and the door to Oliver's flat had been locked, Oliver and Hermione began to make their way down the dark streets to the inn he had described to her.
"Now it's nothing fancy but I stayed in it when I first came here and I really loved it."
Hermione nodded and rubbed her hands together, regretting the fact that she hadn't brought her gloves. She settled for placing them in her pockets, however Oliver had already noticed. Too shy to hold her hands like he had been dying to do all night, he pulled his gloves off, "Please, take mine." He held them out for her.
Hermione shook her head and smiled at his gallantry, "No really, I'm fine."
"You're not!"
"Really Oliver, I think I'd know."
He sighed, frustrated with her stubbornness and figured he'd meet her halfway.
"At least give me your hand…"
Hermione's eyes widened momentarily and he realized she'd misinterpreted him.
He clarified himself, "Not like that, God woman, I just don't want you to catch a cold."
She chuckled. They had nearly reached the entrance of the inn but she placed her hands in his nonetheless, "I doubt anything bad has ever come from cold hands. Cold feet now that's another story."
Considering this an invitation to prove that he wasn't one to have 'cold feet' or be weary of making their relationship a bit more than platonic, Oliver smiled. They had reached the entrance of the inn and, walking forward so that she was forced to back into the stone wall behind her, he murmured, "Oh yes, cold feet are terrible."
And with that, he placed a hand on either side of her face and leaned in, his lips crashing against hers. At first tender, it evolved into something a bit more enthusiastic, making it an all around thrilling first kiss.
When he pulled away, Hermione let out a ragged breath. She had forgotten what they were talking about. Hell, she had forgotten her own name. Oliver smiled and kissed her once, twice, more in a much chaster manner.
"Overkill." Hermione teased after the third, short kiss.
"I thought it was quite nice." Oliver said with a sweet smile, refusing to let Hermione weaken the moment with jokes.
"It was." She admitted shyly, surprised to find his face still mere centimeters from hers.
"You should go to bed. Goodnight Hermione." He murmured with a smile. And before she could even think of a reply, he was walking off, his step considerably springier than it had been before.
Hermione watched him turn the corner and let out a loud breath. Wow. Was the only thought she could properly register, and with the warmth of his lips still tangible on her own, she entered the small inn, purchased and room and went to bed.
___________
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Your reviews honestly make me more willing to write this stuff
Anyway, much love to all you lovely readers. I apologize for the pause between this chapter and my last.
