Chapter 4
Even though it was no longer strictly required, the pair kept studying together for the rest of the school year. To Oliver's surprise Hermione even showed a bit more of an interest in learning about the finer points of quidditch and she lead the cheers when Gryffindor beat Slytherin to win the InterHouse Cup for the first time since Charlie Weasley had been the team's seeker.
She also helped Oliver prep for his NEWTs and beamed with pride when he received a mark of 'Exceeds Expectations' on his Charms exam.
She later joined the others at the Leaky Cauldron in celebration of not only Oliver's scholastic achievement but also the news that he had been drafted as a reserve player for Puddlemere United.
As the night was winding down he pulled her aside to express his appreciation for all she'd done for him.
"I wanted to get you a thank you gift but I couldn't think of a book you hadn't already read and after putting up with the twins' foolishness all year I didn't imagine you'd want any of their folderol, so I don't have much to offer except for a bit of advice about the Prefect's bathroom — seeing as how I'm certain you'll be awarded that status next year."
He leaned over and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Whatever you do— avoid the third stall on the left. Myrtle has an terrible habit of popping up in there at the absolute worst time."
"Good to know. Thanks, Oliver," she laughed. "I'll certainly try and remember that."
Oliver smiled warmly. "Take care, lass. Stay safe. Make Ron and Harry do their own work from now on and don't let bastards like Malfoy get you down. Show them all what yer made of and I'll be waiting on that cabinet post."
Hermione smiled back and raised her glass to him. "And I'll be waiting on my tickets for the next League Cup so I can watch you lead Puddlemere United on to glorious victory!"
"Granger, if you'll show up then I promise you the best spot in the stadium for the Championship match. Box seats!"
"I'll be there. I might even buy a Puddlemere jumper for the occasion."
"I look forward to it. Hell, bring yer parents if you like. I'll even donate a few galleons so yer father can wager on the outcome without the worry of getting on yer Mum's bad side."
"That sounds like a plan. You're on, Oliver."
They traded friendly embraces and swore to stay in touch — a promise they managed to keep until the fall of the Ministry during Hermione's sixth year when she, Ron and Harry went on the run to hunt down and destroy the horcruxes in their attempt to defeat Voldemort.
At that point the pair lost contact for almost a year. They saw each other briefly after the final battle then in passing at the funerals for friends they'd lost.
After that the two pretty much went their separate ways. Oliver rose through the ranks to become a first string keeper for Puddlemere while Hermione went back to school to finish her education before getting a job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
Their paths only crossed infrequently — usually at Ministry events or war memorials — but when they did they always greeted each other warmly and spent a long time catching up on each others' lives, often to the irritation of their respective 'plus ones' for the evening.
Oliver offered to make good on his promise to take Hermione's father to a game but was saddened when she quietly informed him that she'd lost her parents before the war had ended. She didn't provide any details so he didn't push the subject. Instead he simply offered her his heartfelt condolences and reminded her that as soon as Puddlemere qualified for the League Cup that box seats were still hers for the asking.
They always parted with a fond embrace and a promise to get together again very soon. Those words were always well intentioned but life had its way of taking its own path and they would spend the rest of the year mostly reading about each other in the papers and trading the occasional owl around the holidays.
Three years after the war, Hermione's job with the Ministry sent her on an extended project in Romania where she worked closely with Charlie Weasley on ways the Department could improve the regulations regarding dragon poaching.
After almost four months abroad she arrived back in Britain a bit earlier than expected. Rather than bother Ginny — who'd been staying in her flat while she was away — Hermione decided to take a room at the Leaky Cauldron for a couple of nights.
Hannah helped her get settled, bringing up a pot of tea and an assortment of recent magazines and papers to help her guest catch up with the news of Britain's Wizarding World.
After a long hot bath, Hermione curled up in bed and flicked idly through the stack of periodicals. A headline from Daily Prophet grabbed her attention and she sat bolt upright, furiously scanning the attached article for details. She threw off her blankets and dressed quickly before dashing down the back stairs and making a beeline for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
She burst through the door and began rushing down the aisles looking for George. She caught sight of him by the Love Potions and darted towards him, waving the copy of the tabloid still gripped in her hand.
"George!"
"Granger! What a pleasant surprise! We weren't expecting you back for another week."
"Got back early," she replied, struggling to catch her breath. "What's all this about Oliver?"
She held up the paper with the headline "Will Wood Survive?" over a picture of Oliver sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.
"Just hearing about that are you?"
Hermione nodded. "It was in the stack of papers Hannah gave me when I arrived. What happened? Was he hit with an illegal curse? Is he okay? Is he still in hospital?"
"Slow down, Hermione. It's kind of a long story." He looked over at his young clerk. "Verity? Will you watch the shop for a few?"
"Sure boss. No problem."
"Thanks." He turned to Hermione and gestured for her to follow him. "Let's go to the back where we can talk."
He lead her into the office behind the till and swept a few roles of parchment off a chair to make a place for her.
"Have a seat." George said as he began rummaging through another pile of papers along the wall. "Oliver was in the middle of a game when he suddenly just...fell from the sky. Some type of vertigo they said."
He found another tabloid and handed it to her. "They ruled out any magical interference. "
She read the opening paragraph of the article he was pointing to. "But — this says he fell from almost thirty feet in the air!"
George nodded. "Thankfully the ground crew got a cushioning spell down in time. He broke his arm, fractured a few ribs and had a hell of a concussion but the healers at St Mungos got that sorted pretty quickly."
"Is he still there?"
"No."
"Where is he?"
"Nobody knows," George sighed.
"What do you mean...nobody knows?! It's been almost three weeks!"
"Just what I said. Nobody's seen him since that time."
"How can nobody have seen him? He's one of the most recognizable figures in the bloody country! His face is in the papers almost as often as myself, Ron or Harry!"
"Well, apparently he doesn't want to be found."
"Why would he do that?"
"Because...Puddlemere didn't just cut him from the team after the incident, Granger. The healers told him that he would most likely never fly again. Ever."
Hermione gasped. "No!"
George nodded sadly.
"Where is he?"
"I don't —"
"Don't you lie to me, George Weasley," she warned. "I've been able to spot one of your fictions since my second year at Hogwarts and if you thought I could get cross then..."
George swallowed hard. "Okay...I don't know for certain where he is but I do know that he'd moved to a new place about a week before the accident."
"Where was that?"
"I honestly don't know the exact location. I've never been there but I'm pretty sure it was near the town where his Gran used to live. I think it was some sort of family place."
"Well, hasn't anyone talked with him? Floo'd him? Sent an owl?"
"We tried all that. He disconnected from the Floo network and all the owls come back with our letters unopened. Hell, Harry, Ang and I even tried sending patronuses but he's somehow managed to camouflage himself from them."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at that information.
"How does he manage that?"
George shrugged. "A trick he learned during the war."
"Well, he's not going to avoid me that easily." Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "Right. So...if we can't floo and you've not been there to apparate us then it looks like I'll have to do this the hard way."
"Which means...?" George asked.
"Which means grab your broom, Weasley. I'm commandeering you as my taxi service."
xxx
A little over an hour later, Hermione Granger was standing on the doorstep of a tidy little stone cottage hidden in a dense wood that lay tucked between a series of small lochs on the west coast of Scotland.
Even in the fading light of the evening she knew she was in the right place. She'd recognized many of Oliver's signature charms when she'd forced her way through the wards he'd erected around the property. She banged on the heavy wooden door and shouted, "Open up, Oliver! I know you're in there!"
She waited and when no answer was forthcoming she kicked the door hard with heel of her boot.
"You're not getting rid of me this easily, Wood!"
She kept pounding until her hand began to hurt then paused a moment to reassess her options. Suddenly a distant memory of her father cajoling her mother into opening the door after a row came to mind. Hermione stepped back and took a deep breath before she began to sing — loudly and more than a touch out of key.
"And I would walk five hundred miles and I would walk five hundred more, just to be the one who walked a thousand miles to show up at your door!"
She finished the chorus and one of the verses before calling out, "I've got all night, Oliver!"
She waited and when she received no reply she cleared her throat and started again. She'd almost completed the second stanza when the door burst open to reveal the disheveled figure of Oliver Wood.
"Damn it, woman! Stop that bloody caterwauling this instant!"
"No. Not until you let me inside."
They stared each other down and for a split second Hermione thought he might slam the door in her face. Instead he ultimately stepped aside and growled, "Fine! But only because it sounds like yer being murdered and I've got enough problems in my life without having to explain to the authorities why Hermione bloody Granger is getting strangled on my doorstep!"
Hermione gave a pretend pout as she pushed past him. "Oh, Ollie. That hurt. I'll have you know that I've gotten rave reviews for that performance at several karaoke nights."
Oliver squinted as if that might provide some sort of clarification to that statement. "What the hell is a karaoke night?!"
"It's a muggle thing," Hermione waved dismissively as she stopped to peruse a painting in the entry hall. "People gather in a pub, get drunk and sing songs."
"Merlin's beard! What kinda alcohol do people drink to make that sound like music?" He asked as he slammed the door behind her. "And where can I buy some?"
"Oliver! Your manners are even more atrocious now than they were at school." Hermione harrumphed as she reached into her ever present handbag with the extension charm and pulled out an overnight case. "Now - which room is mine?"
Oliver's jaw dropped. "Yer...what?!"
"My room."
"What are you on about?!"
"I heard you were in need of a swift kick in the arse and a fresh perspective on life. Knowing how obstinate you are I figured it would take more than a day so I packed a few things. So, I repeat, which room is mine?"
"None. You aren't staying."
"Well, I certainly didn't come all this way just to serenade you and leave."
"We can debate the definition of 'serenade' another time. What I want to know is how did you find me to begin with?"
"It wasn't easy. You certainly tried to make it a challenge."
"Really?" Oliver didn't try to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "Why...it's almost like I wanted to be left alone, isn't it?"
She pointedly ignored his tone and began inspecting another portrait in the foyer.
"I would have been here sooner but I've been on assignment in Romania. Didn't see the headlines 'til I got back. George told me how you'd sealed your floo and weren't answering owls, so I asked him to apparate me but he said he'd never been here however he thought he knew the general area. So I made him fly me to the nearest village and I walked."
Oliver's eyes widened. "Wait? You? FLEW?! From where?!"
Hermione finally gave up on her host taking the initiative on any sort of basic hospitality. She set down her valise, shrugged off her coat and hung it on the rack near the door.
"From George's shop in Diagon Alley."
"Diagon...?! That-That'd take at least thirty minutes on a fast broom in good weather! With a strong headwind like tonight it'd be..."
Hermione casually checked her watch. "Almost an hour."
"B-but...you HATE flying!"
"Yes. Yes, I do." She picked up her bag and started down hall, leaving Oliver spluttering behind her.
"And then it's good two mile walk from the village! Not to mention, you didn't know where the house was AND I have the place warded."
"That's on my list of things to speak with you about. I mean, really, Ollie..." She crinkled her nose in disappointment. "A determined fourth year could trace your magical signature and get through those wards. Tomorrow morning you and I will do some rune casting around the perimeter to ensure we keep the press away during your recuperation."
He continued to stare at her as if she were some sort of drug induced hallucination, causing her to shake her head and sigh.
"Fine - if you aren't going to show me to my room can you at least get me something to drink? Honestly, Oliver. Your social skills are truly abysmal. I'm exhausted, I'm half frozen, my feet hurt and yet you still haven't offered me a cuppa."
She turned and flounced off with Oliver reluctantly trailing after her.
"Have you always been this pig headed and I was just too busy or too self involved to notice?"
"Probably. Do you have any biscuits? I didn't eat much before we left and now I'm incredibly peckish."
"Merlin's beard! I'd almost forgotten how bloody single minded you are," he said as she disappeared into the kitchen.
"That's rich, coming from you of all people," she called back in reply.
He entered the kitchen to find her setting the kettle to boil and helping herself to a tin of biscuits.
"No. Please. Make yerself at home," he deadpanned.
"Thanks. I will," she smiled.
Oliver braced his arms on the counter and glared at her. "So, where's the good Mister Weasley then?"
"I sent him home. He's got a business to run and Ron's wife Susan is due with their second child any day now so George is working extra shifts at the store. I didn't want to impose on his time too much."
"Good to know you're capable of drawing some boundaries."
Once more, Hermione ignored his sarcasm. She poured herself a cup of tea and peered out the window over the sink. "So this was your Grandmother's house?"
"Aye."
"How long did she live here?"
Oliver drummed his fingers on the worn marble countertop. "Since she was a girl. It's a family place."
She poured him some tea and handed it to him. "It's really lovely."
He accepted the cup out of force of habit. "I'm so glad you approve," he said drily.
"Has it been empty since she passed away?"
He replied through clenched teeth. "Aye, it has."
Hermione started to wander into the next room. "How big is it?"
"Big enough..." Oliver slammed the cup onto the counter. "And I'll be glad to refer you to an estate agent if you've got any more questions."
He reached for her arm in an attempt to steer her back towards the entrance but she gracefully sidestepped him and made her way into the parlor instead. She peeked through one of the long, dark curtains and tried to make out the view of the back garden in the fading light.
"Did you know there've been Kelpies sighted in the lochs around here?"
Oliver grabbed the curtain and jerked it closed. "Seeing as how I've lived here since I was a wee bairn I believe I was aware of that fact."
Hermione tried to open the curtain on the next window but Oliver blocked her path. She shrugged and turned back towards the kitchen.
"Fascinating. How large is the colony?"
Oliver was beside himself at this point. "I haven't any bloody idea!"
He marched back to the kitchen where Hermione was in the process of warming up her tea. He grabbed the cup from her and dropped it in the sink.
"Okay, Granger. You've made an effort. Full marks to you but we're not in school anymore. So, scram. Leave. Go home before Mark misses you."
"Who?"
"Mark. Yer boyfriend. The one you introduced me to the last time I ran into you at one of those Ministry deals."
"What? Oh, him! Sorry. Forgot how long it had been since we'd last seen each other. Mark and I were over ages ago. Even before I left for Romania."
"Oh...sorry."
"Don't be. It was for the best. But since you've brought up the subject, what about you? I'm surprised to find you here alone. Last headline I saw before I went abroad had you involved some whirlwind romance. They made it sound like you were halfway down the aisle with some girl named..Chartreuse?"
Hermione pulled a face causing Oliver to almost smile.
"Chantelle," he grunted. "Almost forgot how much you disliked people named after colors. And no - she's not around anymore. She made it pretty clear that she signed on to date a quidditch star, not an invalid. Besides, even before my...incident it was becoming obvious that she liked my fame far more than she liked me. I wasn't shocked when she left along with everyone else—never to be heard from again."
"Well, that's her loss but I don't think you can blame lack of communication solely on other people, Oliver." She summoned another cup and poured out some more tea. "Like I said before, you haven't gone out of your way to make it easy for anyone to find you."
"You managed."
"Yes, but I'm an overbearing swot, remember?"
"How could I have forgotten?"
She helped herself to another biscuit and began walking back towards the parlor.
"Exactly. Now...about that room..."
AN: If you've never heard the Proclaimers song "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" then I highly recommend googling it now and giving it a listen. You can certainly follow the story without hearing it but it will make another appearance (or two) later on and having it in your head might enrich the experience... :)
