Chapter Six... 'Replacing a Star'

Oliver's eyes slowly opened and he found himself staring up at the white ceiling. Where in the world am I? he thought and went to sit up. He clenched his teeth in pain as he tried to move and found he pretty much couldn't because of the pain. Then the vaguest of memories started appearing in his mind. Chudley... Bludger... Spinning...Blackness.

"I see you've joined the real world again," said a familiar voice from beside Oliver. He did his best to turn his head and did so slightly. He managed to see who was next to him by also rolling his eyes to the very sides. He found it was his Puddlemere Coach. Beside him, was a young boy who looked no older than eighteen.

"Hello," croaked Oliver.

"Hello," replied his coach with no expression in his voice whatsoever. "I'd like to introduce you to Sandford, Tim Sandford."

Oliver stared at the young boy with curiosity. Who was this Sandford boy? Why was he sitting here next to his side. What on earth was going on?

"Who are you?" Oliver struggled to say and found the small exercise of just speaking made him breathless. His throat… it was so parched!

"Wood, I really hate having to do this," began the coach with no sign of sympathy in his tone at all. "But you're off the team. Sandford is our new keeper," he stood up quickly and started walking towards the door. Before he left the room though, he turned around. "Oh and I hope you make a good recovery." Sandford followed the coach but didn't look too happy. "Sorry," he muttered guiltily at Oliver before continuing out of the room.

Oliver didn't know what to say. Off the team? This had to be some crazy dream. He tried with all his might to life just one hand to pinch himself but the effort was just too much. He sighed before closing his eyes tightly. He just wanted his coach's words to just take themselves back. This just couldn't be happening to him.

No sooner had Oliver closed his eyes when someone entered the room and closed the door loudly causing Oliver's head to throb with pain. Ouch, ouch, ouch, he thought but didn't say anything outloud.

"Hello Mr. Wood," said a stern sounding man. Oliver opened his eyes slightly and saw a man standing in a white coat next to him, peering over every inch of his body. Self consciously he tried to curl up a bit but found he couldn't move his legs.

What is going on? He thought to himself in his head. He must have said it out loud though because the man began to speak.

"I couldn't help but over hear your coach talking just a few minutes ago and I must say I'm terribly sorry to hear about your… uh… early retirement. Anyway, my name is Doctor Shirlington and I am going to be helping you through the next few months."

"Months?" wheezed Oliver.

Doctor Shirlington nodded. "Afraid so. You have some serious damage to your body and bone structure Oliver."

"Where am I?" Oliver's mind was racing. Serious damage. No more sport. No more exercise. No more… no more Quidditch.

"The London Hospital of Magical Injuries."

"Oh," Oliver's face fell. He knew it was bad now.

The Doctor must have sensed that he needed time to himself now and all of this was coming in one great big rush so he promised he would be back later and exited. This left Oliver all on his own to contemplate his future. What future, he thought miserably. He really felt his life was over.

* * * * *

Hermione, Harry, Sarah and Ron trudged back up to their rooms in the hotel/tent. Sighing, Hermione unlocked her room door and sat down on the couch. The paramedic hadn't let her accompany Oliver to the hospital as 'she was not immediate family, nor family at all for that matter' so she had had to go back to her room just like everybody else.

For some reason Hermione didn't want to be labelled as 'just like everybody else'. She wasn't just like everybody else. She had ran out to help Oliver when every other single person in the stadium had just watched on. Perhaps her reflexes were quicker than average but that didn't matter. What mattered was she cared and now she wasn't even allowed to sit with him. Or be there when he woke up.

"Why do I even care?" she asked herself outloud as she stuffed a cushion behind her back to get more comfortable.

"I don't know," came an answer. Hermione whipped her head up and saw Sarah standing in the doorway. "Sorry," she added. "The door was open."

Hermione waved off the apology with the flutter of her hand. "Sarah, I'm being so silly!"

Sarah joined her on the couch. It seemed these two were spending a lot of time just sitting with each other. "You're being silly?" she asked incredulously. "I'm the one who went all weird on you! Hermione, I'm really sorry for acting so strange before."

"That's okay," replied Hermione. She groaned. "I can't believe how stupid I'm being. I'm a reporter now. There isn't time for my own personal sympathy for Oliver! I shouldn't be sitting here now worrying about his future. I should be writing a capturing article about the accident that stopped the World Cup!" She sighed again and flopped her head back on the cushion.

"No you shouldn't," comforted Sarah. "Because only people like Rita Skeeter do that. Oliver is a friend and his life is more important than anything. I actually came to talk to you for a reason," she added hastily.

"Hmm?" asked Hermione, not really paying a lot of attention.

"Hermione, Oliver has been booted off Puddlemere United. The Daily Prophet just informed me a few minutes ago. They need you to write about it today for publication tomorrow."

That last piece of news really did it for her. Hermione could literally feel her heart sink. Poor Oliver, poor, poor Oliver.

* * * * *

The hospital was very white. That was the first thought that popped into Hermione's mind as she walked down the corridors looking for Room 706 which was the room that the nurse had told her Oliver would be in.

Everything around her was white. It reminded Hermione of a muggle hospital with just as many strange looking machines and just as many busy looking people rushing back and forth in and out of rooms. Signs were posted up everywhere informing visitors where they should be going.

'Abnormal Animal Growths' said one sign to her left. Another on the right read 'Emergency Teeth Shrinking' which reminded her of her own giant teeth which she had cheekily managed to bring down to normal size back in her Hogwarts days. Happy memories of Hogwarts were not to be reminisced today however as Hermione was there on business. She was there to talk to Oliver or at least find out how he was depending on his current status.

After what felt like hours of walking but was probably only minutes, Hermione reached Room 706. She peeked inside and found it was indeed the right room. Lying on the white bed was Oliver who was a ghastly shade of white himself.

Thinking he was asleep, she tiptoed in and sat down in a chair left for visitors and quietly pulled out her notebook and quill. Unlike Rita Skeeter, Hermione used a plain normal sugar quill. She munched silently on the end for a little while before receiving the surprise of her life when Oliver began talking.

"Who the hell is it?" he asked rudely not even bothering to look up.

"Uhh… it's Hermione Granger," she replied tentatively. She moved her chair closer to his bedside so he could see it was her.

"Oh," his face which had been sour and hurt changed quickly to a more comfortable and relaxed expression. "Hi Hermione."

"Hello Oliver," she said.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?" he asked curiously. "Because I've already had a few reporters in here obviously looking for information. They're very, very annoying."

Hermione paused. She had figured she was there purely for business but now she thought about it she wasn't so sure. She had been relieved to find out she could see how he was doing and perhaps talk to him and make him feel a bit better but was that classified as business because she needed to write about it or pleasure as she was personally affected by him? "A bit of both," she admitted.

"At least your honest," he groaned. "Arggh," he screamed clutching at his stomach. Hermione felt her heart hurt by just looking at him. He screamed a bit more before the screaming turned to dull sobs and all she could do was watch helplessly. Hermione had honestly never seen anything like this before. Oliver was in tremendous pain and all she could do was sit.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, leaning closer.

Oliver shook his head slightly, still clutching his stomach area. "No. The doctors have already given me as much medicine as possible."

"Why can't they just give you some spells and special tablets or something?" Hermione asked angrily. "Why is this unlike any of the other injuries you and Harry have ever had. Why could they always fix them with just a magical remedy?"

Oliver sighed. "I don't know. My doctor… Shirlington or something just said that this was more serious than a few broken bones and that proper procedures were necessary. He also mentioned I would be in here for quite some time." Oliver paused after that before continuing. "I guess you already heard I'm off the team?"

"Yes," Hermione rested a hand on top of his in sympathy. "Oliver, I am so sorry." She knew her words would have no effect on the way he was feeling but she thought she say them anyway.

For the first time Hermione was seeing a different side of Oliver Wood. He wasn't happy or determined or angry or anything else she'd ever seen. He was purely depressed. Just depressed.

The fact that the hospital room was so bare and boring didn't really help. There was a single window that overlooked a concrete street of London and not much else. A painting on the wall helped to make it look more inviting but seeing as it was just a painting of a vase of white lilies it didn't move too much and didn't offer a whole lot of sparkling conversation.

"Yeah well…" Oliver's voice trailed off.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Hermione asked, setting her notebook and quill aside. "Are you tired?"

"No and yes," he replied. "I mean, I don't want you to leave but yes, I am tired. Hey Hermione, would you mind… would you mind, just staying here with me for a little while? I mean I'm tired and I'll fall asleep soon I can tell but… but, I'd really like you to just stay here… with me."

Hermione felt her heart hurt again. But this time it was because she'd never seen Oliver so emotional before. "Of course I will," she replied.

"Thanks," said Oliver before his eyelids closed and he drifted off into difficult slumber.

Hermione sat there with her hand on his hand for a long time. She watched him sleep but didn't feel the need to rest or stand up or move around at all. So she just sat there and was very content with it.

"Sandford…" Oliver muttered. Hermione thought he must have woken up for a second and jerked her hand away in surprise but it turned out he was just sleep talking.

Sandford she wondered. Oh yes, the boy who is replacing him on the team. Sarah did mention it.

As if reading her mind, Oliver's conversation changed. "Sarah… Sarah… no, please… please…" he said.

Hermione studied his face. Sarah? Sarah Pumpkin? What did he mean?

She watched his face turn from relaxation to all tensed up. She couldn't help but also notice how very fine he looked no matter how sick and depressed he was. Oliver's hair was matted and messed up but still framed his face and made him look simply irresistible.

Hermione! She yelled at herself. Stop thinking about Oliver like that! There isn't time for lust and crushes right now. His life is in danger!

After having a good heavy lecture with herself Hermione began to think about what Oliver had said in his dreams again. Sarah… no… please. It couldn't be the same Sarah. Sarah was a common name. It could have been anybody. But then Hermione remembered how strange Sarah Pumpkin had been whenever she'd mentioned Oliver. Like that night when they'd all had dinner. Oliver and Sarah? What in the world was the connection?