CHAPTER ELEVEN
Summary: Hermione suffers a terrible attack and who should find her but one of Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors. The relationship that builds between them is one no one saw coming, but no one predicted the danger that would surely follow. Post-War. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: I do not own canon events or characters, they belong to J.K Rowling. I am not making a profit from this fanfic, everything is purely for entertainment purposes.
Q&A
Mrshaloona - Yes, I found it in the book, but it's also online on the Harry Potter wiki page.
Page count: 10
Wood Estate - Wednesday 24th November 1998
"Master Oliver... Master Oliver."
His eyes fluttered opened to find himself staring directly at Bobby and something tickling his forehead. He pushed himself upright, realising he'd fallen asleep and it had been Hermione's hair that was responsible the tickling feeling. He groaned at the ache in his back from sleeping at an odd angle.
"Master Oliver, Bobby is sorry to wake the Master, but the Master's friends be here."
Oliver rolled his shoulders and moved his neck from side to side before yawning and running a hand through his hair.
"It's alright, Bobby," Oliver spoke groggily.
"Does Master want Bobby to send them away?"
"Naw thanks, Bobby, a'll take care af it," he replied, before standing up and making his way through the manor and down to the parlour where he knew his guests would be gathered.
"There he is, our Captain," Malloy called, opening his arms wide and gesturing about wildly, with a half empty fire whiskey bottle held in his hand.
Oliver frowned, his eyes searching his team mates in order to guise how drunk they all were. Whilst the others appeared to be tipsy at best, Malloy was by far the drunkest of the lot of them, and it was evident by the way he swayed on his feet and struggled to keep balance.
"Captain? Captain? Did you hear me?" Malloy shouted.
"Shhh!" Oliver hissed, trying to quieten him down. With the manor being so big and empty, sound often travelled and he didn't want to risk Hermione being woken. She needed her sleep.
"Why?" Malloy frowned. "Is there someone here? Someone you don't want us to interrupt?" he asked, his eyebrows wriggling suggestively.
Oliver noticed his team mates perk up at Malloy's question, not being subtle about wanting to hear his answer.
"Naw, there isnae anyone here but mae, but a've got a headache an' yer not helping, so be quiet," he lied, seeing the way everyone looked at him disbelievingly.
For Hermione's safety he couldn't have anyone knowing she was there. He promised he would protect her and he would be damned if he didn't do everything he could to keep his promise.
"You're lying," Pallie commented, leaning against one of the arm chairs.
"A'm not," he denied.
"You are," Thompson nodded in agreement.
"This I've gotta see," Malloy laughed. "Come out, come out, where ever you!" he shouted, and he stumbled over towards the doors that lead out of the parlour. "Come on, Love, we don't bite!"
Oliver grabbed him by the arm to stop him from leaving and searching the manor; not only would he wake Hermione, he'd probably injure himself given his drunken state.
"Something you want to tell us, Captain?" Malloy asked with a raised eyebrow, seeing the less than pleased look on Oliver's face.
"A'm the only one here," he said.
"Come out, Poppet!" he yelled again and Oliver's gaze turned into a glare and his grip on Malloy tightened.
"What can Bobby do for the Sirs?" Bobby appeared in the room, bowing to the team and they all turned their eyes to Oliver.
"A told ye, a have a headache an' a'm the only one here. Bobby's had elf-flu recently, a dinnae want ye waking him up, he needs his rest," Oliver quickly thought up. "Now, a think it's best tha' ye all get home an' sober up, training isnae gunna be pleasant with a hangover an' a have somethin' special planned." They all groaned. "An' next time, a'd appreciate it if ye dinnae come by unannounced."
"Why? It never bothered you before," Kings asked.
"It does now, a'll have yer access through the wards removed if ye do. Now, get out."
"Alright, keep your robes on," Wilks said.
He walked over to Oliver and took Malloy by the shoulder, guiding out of the parlour and towards the large doors with the rest of the team following behind him. Oliver followed after them to ensure they all left and he saw them out the door, before closing it behind them.
"He's hiding something," Thompson commented, looking over his shoulder back at the manor, as he and the team made their way towards the apparition point.
"Obviously, he's a rubbish liar," Bishop snorted. "But the question is; what is he hiding?"
"No," Pallie shook his head. "Who is he hiding?"
"Thanks, Bobby, tha' was good timing," Oliver said to the little elf.
Bobby bowed. "Bobby knows the Master wishes to protect the Miss. Bobby like the Miss, Bobby will keep her safe," he responded, before disappearing from view and leaving behind a surprised Oliver.
Oliver shook his head and made his way back to the living room, sighing in relief when he saw that Hermione was still sleeping peacefully and she appeared to have not moved during his absence.
He looked down at her, seeing her sleeping form cocooned in a blanket, her hair fanned out across her pillow and her breathing even and deep. He turned his attention to the clock sat above the fire place, seeing it to be not long before eleven at night and he decided there was no point in doing anything but go to bed; he did have to be at training in the morning.
He looked back down to Hermione, before carefully pulling the blanket away from her and lifting her into his arms. She made a noise at being jostled but brought her arms up to wrap around his neck and he made his way towards her bedroom, hearing Merlin jump off the couch and follow after him.
The large dog nudged the door open for Oliver and walked in, sitting by the bed and waiting patiently. Oliver's eyes scanned the room, seeing that Bobby had unpacked Hermione's belongings and despite the furniture being the same and the room still remaining white, it looked completely different. It looked lived it. Hermione's keep sakes and trinkets littered the room, her clothes had been unpacked in the closet, her photos littered the room and Bobby had made quick work of using his elfin magic to repair the damage done to them, and he'd even placed some on the walls. He didn't doubt Bobby would've placed her books in the library, and he was sure Hermione would have an aneurism once she discovered the little hideaway.
Bobby appeared before him and Oliver looked down at him, seeing the little elf click his fingers and Hermione's bedding resized to fit the bed, and it replaced the bedding that had already been there. Bobby clicked his fingers once more and a pair of folded pyjamas appeared on the bed.
"Bobby will ready the Miss for bed, Master," the elf bowed.
"Thank ye, Bobby," Oliver replied.
He placed Hermione down in the centre of the bed with her making a noise at being jostled again. He stepped back and scratched Merlin on the head, before wishing Bobby a good night and leaving to his own room, knowing Hermione was in good hands.
Wood Estate - Thursday 25th November 1998
"Mornin', ye ready fer breakfast?" Oliver asked, leaning against the door frame of Hermione's bedroom.
She looked up at him from her place sat on the bed and smiled at him, putting the book she had been reading aside. Oliver chuckled when Merlin jumped off the bed and dashed out of the room, making a beeline for the kitchen.
"Well, if I'm not, Merlin will have mine for me," Hermione said amused.
Oliver chuckled. "A guess it's a good job a made extra then," he replied, moving over to her. He saw her about to protest to being carried but she snapped her mouth shut and instead allowed him to pick her up without argument. "What? Got naw witty comment?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She sighed. "Plenty," she replied and he snorted; he didn't doubt it. "But there's no point in voicing them, you're not going to listen to me and it would just be a waste of my breath."
"It would," he agreed. "So, hoo do ye feel aboot omelette and French toast."
"I feel you spoil me," she admitted.
"It's nothin' compared tae the pancakes ye made," he shrugged.
"Well I'm glad you liked them; they'll all you'll be getting from me." He snorted. "Luckily for you, you can make loads of different pancakes."
"Such as?" he asked curiously.
"You sampled chocolate chip pancakes, but I can make you them with banana, peanut butter, chocolate, anything you want really, so at least you won't be completely sick of them." She brushed her hair out of her face, and returned her arm back around his neck. "So, what's the plan today?" she asked.
He sighed. "Training," he grumbled.
"That sounds fun," she replied with a wince. "Well, I wish you luck."
"A'm gunna need it," he muttered. She raised an eyebrow but he didn't elaborate further. When he reached the kitchen he placed her on her chair and they began eating.
Halfway through breakfast an owl swooped into the room through the open window, dropping a letter in front of Hermione and leaving back out the window without a second glance.
Oliver looked to the letter, then to Hermione, seeing her pale face and her frightened expression.
"I didn't recognise the owl, and I don't recognise the hand writing either," she said quietly, feeling his questioning gaze on her. She tore her eyes away from the letter and to him.
He looked back down to the letter.
"Do ye want mae tae open it?" he asked her.
She took a deep breath and nodded. He reached for the letter but she stopped him, pulling her wand and waving it over the letter.
"There's no apparent hexes or harmful substances contained, but still, be careful," she told him quietly.
He reached for the letter, looking at her name scribbled across the envelope before he tore the seal on the envelope, removed the parchment and unfolded it. His eyes quickly scanned the messy writing before looking over the top of the parchment at her, seeing her tense body and frightened stare.
"It's from Ron," he told her.
She visibly slouched into her chair and let out a sigh of relief before taking the letter from him, her eyes scanning the words the letter contained.
"Arsehole," she muttered, before all but slamming the parchment down onto the table and Oliver looked at her questioningly as she silently fumed, leaning back into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She lifted her eyes from the table and up to him.
"I didn't recognise the writing because he was completely rat-arsed when he wrote it. Apparently he didn't meet with me at the bar because he forgot."
"He fergot?" Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow. How could anyone ever forget Hermione Granger?
"Yes, he forgot because he was too busy having the time of his life with some random witch he met on the street."
Oliver blinked. "Bloody hell," he muttered. Even he wasn't that bad, he at least chatted to a woman for a couple of hours before he decided whether to bed her or not. He'd never just picked someone up off the street.
"Exactly," she fumed. "I know why he did it as well."
"Why?" he asked curiously.
"To get back at me for breaking up with him. He's mad that I didn't see our relationship going anywhere and that I wasn't comfortable with him in that regard. He's been in a mood with me ever since, and hoping to make me jealous, he'll sleep with any random witch that bats her eyelashes at him, tell Harry every miniscule detail about it, knowing that Harry will tell Ginny and she'll tell me, or that I'll overhear because I'm with them," she fumed. "He needs to bloody grow up, I'm reaching the end of my tether with him and sooner or later, I'm going to hex his bollocks off."
Oliver wasn't sure whether to laugh or be afraid. "Jus' hoo mad are ye?" he asked.
"Put it this way, if I were able to walk, I would be storming out of this manor, to the apparition point and apparating straight to The Ministry of Magic, where I would lie in wait for Ron to walk into his office so I could give him a piece of my mind."
"Fer the safety af abo'dy close by, a guess it's a good thing tha' ye cannae walk." She scowled at him and he chuckled. "Eat yer breakfast."
"I'm too mad to."
"Do a have tae feed it tae ye like a wee bairn?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't you even dare," she warned him.
He smirked in challenge and before she could blink Oliver was beside her, kneeling down by her chair with her fork in his hand.
"Here comes the broom," he said in a sing-song voice, waving the fork around as if it were an actual flying broom. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head childishly. "Open up," he chided. She shook her head. "A'm gunna resort tae dangerous measures if ye don'." She looked down at him with a challenging gaze and her arms still crossed over her chest.
She suddenly burst into laughter when Oliver used his free hand to tickle her ribs, and he took the opportunity she presented him, putting food into her mouth. Her laughter was muffled and she scowled down at him.
"Do we have tae repeat this?"
She shook her head and he handed her the fork and moved back over to his own seat to continue with breakfast. He looked up at her, seeing a little pout on her mouth and he struggled to contain his snort. Her eyes shot to his and she glared at him murderously, but he could see her mouth twitching. She was faltering. He continued to watch her and before he knew it, she was laughing and her current bad mood was gone. He felt pride fill him; he was the one to make her laugh and make her forget about Ron Weasley.
She picked up her fork and pointed it in his direction.
"You're a pain in the arse," she told him, before placing a mouthful of food into her mouth.
"Happy tae be af assistance," he replied. "Are ye gunna be alright by yerself?"
She shrugged. "It's not the first time, is it? I'm just lucky none of my patients have been in need of my healing services; I wouldn't be able to get to them. If they were to contact me before my leg's properly healed, I'll have to send someone else instead."
"A don' think Thomas would mind doin' it fer ye if ye were tae ask," he supplied.
"I suppose so, I'd just hate to have to do that. They're my patients; I should be the one looking after them, that's what I'm paid for. I'm just hoping no one falls sick for the time being, and if they do, it can be dealt with through an owl and a list of potions that should be procured. So, fingers crossed. As for what I'm going to do whilst you're gone, I don't know, but I don't doubt Bobby would keep me company."
"Bobby would be honoured, Miss," the little elf spoke up from behind her.
Hermione squeaked in surprise and Oliver jumped, having not expected the little elf to appear, especially since he hadn't been called.
"Merlin, Bobby, you gave me a fright," Hermione spoke, turning to look at the elf behind her. Bobby lowered his head. "And the honour would be mine. I will take the opportunity that is presented to convince you to divulge all of Oliver's childhood secrets and embarrassing moments."
"Bobby, don' tell her anythin'," Oliver said. "A don' think a would survive the teasing."
"Probably not," Hermione smirked and Oliver shook his head.
His wand buzzed on the table, letting him know he had to leave for training. "An' tha's me cue tae leave," he said, standing up and grabbing his broom from its place leaning against the wall.
Bobby clicked his fingers and a brown paper bag appeared on the table, Oliver blinked and picked it up, recognising what it was instantly.
"Seeing as I wasn't able to make you lunch myself this morning, Bobby was kind enough to fill in for me. He's such a sweetheart," she said, smiling down at Bobby and the elf blushed, wringing his apron in his hands.
"Thank ye," Oliver replied. "A'll see ye later."
"I'll be here, as usual, like the damsel in distress stuck in her tower waiting for her knight in shining armour to come along," she sighed.
He raised his eyebrow. "Are ye saying a'm yer knight in shining armour?"
"Well, technically you are," she shrugged. "You did rescue me from a terrible fate after all. So, Knight, I hope training is far less stressful for you and that you have a good day."
His mouth twitched. "Will ye await me return, Damsel?" he asked, playing along.
"Always," she nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
He chuckled at her before making his way out of the kitchen and towards the fireplace.
"See ye later," he called over his shoulder.
"Don't get injured today," she called back. "Right, Bobby, what should we do today?" He heard her say, just as he reached the floo.
He picked up the floo powder, called the address and threw it into the grate.
Puddlemere United Stadium
He stepped out of the fireplace at Puddlemere Stadium and came face to face with his team mates, all standing around and looking as though they had been waiting for him. He blinked in surprise, before a frown appeared; they were up to something.
"Hey, Cap," Pallie said.
"Hey," he replied cautiously. "What are ye all doing here so early?" he asked.
"Early, are we early?" he said innocently.
"Aye, ye are, now what are ye after?"
"Nothing," Thompson shrugged. "How's your head?"
"Better," he replied.
"And Bobby?"
"Feeling better an' happy he's back tae his chores."
"Good to know," Bishop spoke. "So, are we having a drink at yours tonight?"
"Naw," Oliver said.
"Why not?" Malloy asked with a raised eyebrow. "It's the third Thursday of the month; tradition dictates that the Captain hosts the team for drinks."
"A cannae do it, a promised me parents a'd visit them, Ma's been sending howlers as a havnae visited her in a while."
They all looked as though they didn't believe him, but thankfully they left it at that.
"If you say so," Kings spoke.
"Since a cannae do tonight, go tae The Crimson Lion an' tell Lee Jordan tha' I sent ye an' tae put yer drinks on me tab."
They all blinked in surprise, before looking at each other and nodding, they then all turned and headed towards the pitch. Oliver sighed, well, that should keep them off his back for a while and he'd bought himself a little more time to come up with better excuses for the foreseeable future.
Wood Estate
Oliver stepped out of the floo and into the living room, eyeing the bar and deciding whether or not he should have some fire whiskey. Like he'd promised the day before, training had not been pleasant, especially for him.
Kings needed to start paying attention, he'd allowed a bludger to get straight past him and it had smacked into Oliver's shoulder, dislocating it. Hermione was going to be livid when she saw the bruising, he was sure of it, and he'd need the liquid courage in his system when that happened.
He poured the liquid into his tumbler and downed it before going in search of Hermione, rubbing at his sore shoulder whilst he did so. There were only so many places she could be, given that he hadn't given her the tour and Bobby wouldn't take her anywhere she hadn't been before. He knew she wasn't in the living room so he started with the kitchen, and upon seeing her not there, he made his way straight to her bedroom. Her door was opened and he stepped inside, not seeing her. He peeked into her bathroom and she wasn't there either and he frowned, until he heard crying.
He followed the sound and it led him to the closet. He opened the door, seeing Merlin coming straight into his view and hearing his sad whimpers. Oliver's eyes scanned what he could see of the closet before peeking around the door and Hermione came into his sight.
She was sat in the far corner; her back pressed against the wall and her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees with her head buried against them. She had made herself as small as possible and sat beneath her clothes hung on the hangers. Oliver felt a stab in his chest.
He slowly approached her, not wanting to frighten her and allowing her time to realise he was there. He sat beside her, pulling his knees up and resting his forearms on top of them. He sat in silence, waiting for her to speak first. He knew she knew he was there; she turned towards him, pressing her shoulder up against his.
He didn't know how long they sat in silence, but he'd been on the verge of dozing off when she finally acknowledged him. She lifted her head from her arms and looked at him, show casing her puffy, red eyes and tears falling down her cheeks. Her watery eyes locked onto his.
"I'm ashamed of myself," she whispered.
"Why?" he questioned softly.
"I blame him. The more I think about it, the more I can't stop and the more I blame him."
"Who?"
"Ronald," her voice cracked. "If he hadn't of stood me up, I wouldn't have left the bar alone and none of this would have happened. If he'd let me know he wasn't coming, I wouldn't have drank so much and I would've been safe to use the floo in the staff room. If he had been there, I would've stayed longer and he would've walked me home. I can't help but blame him, and because I blame him, I hate him. I don't want to hate him. He's my best friend. Every time I think about him, I want to hurt him. What's wrong with me?" she asked, her tears falling down her face more forcefully. "It's his fault." A sob tore from the back of her throat and she buried her head back against her arms.
Oliver stared at her speechless, unsure of what to say, unsure of what he could possibly do to comfort her, to help her. He felt his heart tightening, he didn't like seeing her like this; it wasn't the witch he'd been spending time with recently. It wasn't the witty, strong, fiery woman he was used to dealing with.
Without thought he lifted his arm and moved it until it wrapped around and her shoulders, and much to his surprise, she unfolded her arms and legs and turned to face him, lifting herself up and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as she cried into his neck.
He froze, unsure of what to do, before his instincts kicked and he wrapped his arms her back, silently holding her and allowing her to cry on him. After some time her cries died down to sniffles.
"Ye have nothin' tae be ashamed af," he told her quietly. "Ye cannae help the way ye feel, but it is understandable. Ye had plans with yer friend an' he broke them withoot telling ye. An' ye could be right, it may not have happened if he'd been there, but ye will never know. He may have walked ye home an' it still could've happened, he may have been over powered by yer attackers tae. It's perfectly understandable tha' ye associate Ron bein' the one tae blame fer what happened, an' ye shouldn't feel ashamed af tha'. Yer've been through a lot recently, don' be so hard on yerself."
She sniffled and nodded against him. "Thank you," she whispered. "You're a good friend, Oliver."
Friend? He felt his face scrunch up at that term. He was a good friend? Why did he not like the sound of that?
She pulled away from him and sat back down beside him, her shoulder pressed against his.
"So, how was training?" she asked, wiping her tears away from her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper.
He groaned and his head fell back against the wall.
She chuckled. "Sorry, should've known. Any injuries?"
"Naw, they're all fine."
"And you?" she asked.
"Fine," he lied.
"You're lying," she said with a narrowed gaze.
"A'm not," he denied.
"You are; you've got that look on your face, a look I've only seen when you're telling a lie."
"A don', besides, ye shouldn't know tha' look yet."
She snorted. "Where does it hurt?"
He gave in. "Me shoulder," he admitted. "Bludger dislocated it an' left mae with a bruise."
"Come on then," she said, moving away from him. "Healer Granger will patch you up," she spoke as she crawled out of the closet and back into her bedroom and he stood and followed after her.
"A'm all fer a bit af role play... oomph," he grunted, being smacked in the face with a pillow from her bed.
"Not another word from you or I'll purposely give you food poisoning."