Chapter 14 – Consequences, Consequences
Hermione walked down the halls of the Janus Thickey Ward like a prisoner on death row. Her head was bowed and her hands were fidgeting with one another's fingers in front of her. She bit down on her lip and swallowed hard. She looked up and saw the door to Miriam's office. She had got a summons to be there shortly after arriving at work today.
The door was ajar and Hermione could see Miriam moving about in there with another person. A deep, stern voice told Hermione that it wasn't going to be someone nice. She frowned more and took a deep breath while holding her head high. She shook her hair back and straightened her face while walking forward.
Her knuckle made a faint rapping on the door and Hermione heard Miriam call her in while chair legs scraped on the floor. Hermione pushed the door open and walked in. There behind Miriam's desk was one of the hospital administrators. He was a severe looking man with austere eyes that seemed to burn you.
Hermione bit the inside of her bottom lip as Miriam sighed and told her to take a seat next to her. The administrator took no time in pulling out a copy of the newspaper and spreading it upon the desk to face Hermione. She frowned greatly and closed her eyes in disgrace. 'Please let this be a dream' Hermione thought.
"Ms. Granger," the administrator began, his voice deep and cutting.
She opened her eyes and looked up to see him sitting tall in Miriam's chair, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair and his fingertips together. He peered at her over them with hard gray eyes that Hermione found she couldn't look into.
"I take it you have a good explanation for this?" he demanded lightly, at least what was lightly for his voice which sounded to Hermione like a rolling growl.
"Yes, Mr. Bonham," Hermione mumbled.
"Speak up, then," Mr. Bonham ordered. "I want to know why my great-great-granddad's hospital is now looking a smear on its flawless record."
"Well, you see, the thing is...," Hermione began in a timid voice, "The note didn't really say tha-"
"Ms. Strout showed me the original message and assured me that it was part of Mr. Wood's recovery," Bonham snapped. "What about the other things there?"
"That picture," Hermione said nodding to the one of her hugging Oliver, "is just- just an accident. You see, there was water on the floor and I slipped and fell-"
"If you're talking about the one of you two lying on the ground, I'll believe it for that one, but the one of you and a patient hugging does not fit that poor excuse," Bonham hissed.
"You're right," Hermione gulped. "The third one is a picture taken directly after he fell from the broom. But that one where I'm hugging him... that's self-explanatory."
"You do know that it is unacceptable conduct for a Healer to do such a thing, do you not?"
"Yes, sir," Hermione muttered as she bowed her head and stared at her white uniform skirt.
"Then why, Ms. Granger, is there such a picture in this paper?" Bonham growled.
"It wasn't meant for anyone to see. Oliver and I are simply friends and-"
"Relationships end at that fireplace grate and any other doorway in this building!" Bonham roared. "And now because of your careless acts, I've got to set up a meeting with the Daily Prophet administrator so that I can have tomorrow's article stating that Mr. Wood truly is sick and that punishment as befell you. But don't think that's all you're getting. You must also give an exclusive interview telling how you have no relationship – even friendship – with our patient."
"Yes, sir," Hermione replied as she felt her throat tighten with a painful feeling from her chest.
"As for your punishments... you are to no longer see Mr. Wood or even step foot into his room. To further this so that no other relationships with patients form, you're going to lose half of your pay as well as take over Mrs. Malfoy's position in the potion making department."
"But, sir, that's 5 Galleons less than I'm getting now and with half my pay gone for the week, I can't afford my bi-"
"You should have thought about that!" Bonham interrupted.
Hermione sank back in her chair and closed her eyes as he continued.
"You're lucky to even have a job here anymore as it is. Now... I expect you at the office of the Daily Prophet administrator tomorrow morning, seven sharp. Do I make myself clear?"
Hermione said nothing as she nodded, listening to the man's chair scrape the floor when he stood. Hermione heard Miriam whispering something to him and then she heard flames roar to life. When she looked back up, Miriam was looking down upon her with sympathy and emerald flames were dying in the fireplace.
"I'm sorry, Miriam," Hermione sighed.
"No, I'm sorry, dear... I really wish I could help you," Miriam frowned.
"You can in a way."
"How?" Miriam asked.
"Let me see Oliver only for a little while today. I have some things to tell him," Hermione spoke softly.
Miriam knew what it was Hermione was referring to and she nodded.
"Very well," Miriam whispered.
"I'll go see him at lunch... for now I've got to go collect the breakfast trays and start the wash," Hermione informed as she stood up and left the room, Miriam's pitying eyes following her retreating back.
Hermione sighed as she looked up at the clock. It was three in the afternoon and it was time for her lunch. She wished still that it was 2:59 or something instead of three. She turned to leave the wash room and looked in a mirror over the sink. She grabbed the brush laying there and ran it through her hair before straightening her uniform and grabbing the day's Daily Prophet.
She walked down the hall and into Oliver's room where he sat looking at an advanced magic book. Padma had had him down in an empty room in the hospital earlier that day and said that he preformed all spells rather well after a try or two. Hermione smiled as he looked up upon hearing her enter.
"I was wondering where you went," Wood beamed. "I wanted to tell you thank you for yesterday. It was a lot of fun and I'm beginning to understand a little more about my profession."
"Good," Hermione muttered.
"What's wrong?" he asked; he sensed something strange in her voice.
He watched her pull up a chair next to his bed and she sat down slowly while pulling out the paper.
"I want you to look at this," Hermione advised.
She handed Oliver the Daily Prophet and watched as his eyes scanned the article. His face was contorted in deep, confused thought that she felt a little guilty and pained in seeing. When he finished, he laid the paper in his lap and furrowed his brow.
"I'm a- Kirsten's my- you mean tha-," Oliver stuttered confusedly.
"Listen carefully, Oliver," Hermione sighed as she grabbed a book off the bedside table and opened it to the book marker. "I'm going to read the rest of this to you and then explain something, okay?"
Oliver said nothing as he nodded and Hermione moved to close the curtains in the room as well as the door. When she sat back down, she cleared her throat and began to read.
"He took a step closer and my breathing picked up. My nerves had been on fire, and there had been a shiver hiding somewhere in my spine, I could feel it. He reached up and I turned my head to watch his hand come to rest on the back of my neck. The shiver came out of hiding and when I turned to look at him, all I saw was his lips meeting my own," she began.
She turned the page and felt her mind drift. She shook her head from the memory and continued in her reading.
"I had kissed guys before, sure. There had been Viktor and even Ron, not to mention Terry Boot and Cormac McLaggan, though he had been against my wishes in my sixth year. But this guy was, without competition and completely different. It was sweet and simple while at the same time fiery and passionate. It set me soaring and grounded me all at once. I froze and melted in one second all together. It was confusion and release, excitement and peace."
Oliver bowed his head as he thought about that kiss she just described. He licked his lips. He had felt that feeling before.
"I hardly knew what to think, though my body told me exactly what it wanted me to do. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. We broke away only for a moment, and as I took a deep breath, reality came crashing in. I found myself pressed against a wall in an alley just off the sidewalk where we had first started kissing," Hermione continued.
"You read this to Kirsten?" Wood tried to joke, though there was something strange in his voice.
"Not this part... I lie to her in a way and say that they just kiss," Hermione informed. "But that's not the point here."
"Continue, then," Wood urged.
"He was assaulting my neck with his lips and all I could bring myself to do was grip at his back and listen to all sound come rushing back to my world. I heard his breathing first, coming in rapid and heavy. Then my own, sounding so lustful that I probably could have been mistaken for a dog in heat."
Wood snorted a moment with laughter and Hermione eyed him before swallowing and continuing to read.
"I laughed at myself when I first thought that and he broke away when he heard me laugh. He swallowed hard and I saw his Adam's apple move in his throat and strangely enough, all I could think about in that moment was kissing him there, tasting him even."
Oliver suddenly felt like his own neck was under examination and bowed his head a little more. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and watched her lips moving while she read on.
"More sound came back to my world as I looked around the alley with him. Dripping of a drain spout, a cat rummaging some trash, and the distant sound of someone's television from a window above. He made a panting joke about that not being a romantic place, but I wouldn't hear much more of what he said as I pulled him back in for a kiss. That apparently got through to him because he Apparated us back to the hotel room he was staying in. Not a smart move, I'll admit that now," Hermione sighed. "But I hadn't cared in that moment. All I knew at that time was that there were two things between us. A lustful love and clothes."
Oliver suddenly felt an almost uncontrollable urge to pin Hermione to the wall and kiss her crazy. He shifted, his whole body was uncomfortable. She didn't seem to notice, that or she was trying to hide her own uncomfortable feelings.
"It hadn't taken us long to get past all of those restraints. As I think about it now, I think he might have been just as nervous as I was. He was my first. My only. I loved him more than I loved any in that moment. He gave me passion, power, love, lust, and he even took from me. Took my innocence, my breath, and my heart."
Hermione felt vulnerable under his eyes now, almost like she was under a strict inspection. She shook her hair back and pressed on with a slightly wavering voice as Oliver had the new feeling of power and possession rise in his gut.
"The next morning when I awoke in his arms, I recalled the night before and had expected to regret it, but didn't. It felt right in that moment, it felt right the morning after, and still does as I think about it now. I don't think I would have changed it at all."
Her voice broke there. That was it. It still felt right and they both knew it, even if he didn't fully remember it. She stopped, marking the page and closing the book.
"You see, Oliver," Hermione started. "Rash actions led to... things," she nodded to the paper on the bed and Wood looked at the picture of Hermione, Kirsten, and him.
"So, I am her father?" Wood questioned.
Hermione nodded and a frown bent her pink lips downward at the corners as tears surfaced in her eyes. Wood stared at her for a moment as all feeling died in him. The feeling of power, possession, love, lust, and even longing were void now, and all he could think about was being betrayed.
"Why would you hide it from me?" Oliver demanded in a low, deep voice.
Normally, Hermione would have loved that Scottish accent, but now, it was different. Painful even, almost like Mr. Bonham's voice that morning.
"Why, Hermione?"
"Because... you left and-"
"I left? I don't want to know about that," Wood sighed. "I want to know why you didn't come back."
"I thought that- that you-," Hermione bumbled, "I- thought that- I don't even know what I thought anymore."
"I need time to think about this," Oliver mumbled.
"I'm sorry, Oliver," Hermione sniffed before a whimper escaped her.
She stood quickly and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Oliver looked at the paper in his lap. His eyes examined the two pictures of Hermione and him. Did he still love her? How could he after the bomb she just launched upon him?
He shook his head and picked up the book she left laying in the chair. He opened it to the marked spot and began reading.
We stayed in his room all that day, just lounging around in hotel robes and sipping coffee while we cuddled. It was the single most relaxing thing in my life. We had just savored each other's company, nothing more than two young lovers on a high after crossing the most sincere point and diving head first into something we thought had been right.
He took me home later that night and told me that he would be back around seven the next morning to see me. He stayed true to his promise and over the next two weeks, I went to see him at all his matches, each visit ending in a snogging session in the locker room afterwards. Foolish and uncalled for some might say, but we were in love.
In love. Now that I think about it, we were playing a game that wasn't love. At least, I don't think it was. I might have been playing that, but I think that he was cheating if we were. By the end of a month, we started to see each other less and less. I had started at St. Mungo's and his practices became more important because his coach thought he was slipping.
Then came a fateful day for the both of us. He had come to visit me at my old flat in Diagon Alley, and he caught me just as I was leaving for work. He seemed distracted and I felt worried, so I tried to get out of him what had been bothering him. He started something about I should know he loved me and that he didn't want to hurt me. I told him I didn't understand what he was getting at, he was making no sense at all with his broken and choppy sentences.
Then a bomb dropped on my world. He had tried to say that he wouldn't be a very good boyfriend, but I stopped him. Pretty much told him to save it because I knew deep down this would happen. Truthfully, I hadn't known, but it felt like I should have. He chose Quidditch over me and that was that. I was on the outs and he was the rising star who was letting go of some stupid girl.
"I never let you go," Oliver muttered.
His head shot up and he stared in awe at the wall across the room. Had he really just said that? What made him say that?
He closed his eyes and thought hard. Nothing came to him. Stimulation. His brain needed to be stimulated into remembering. He grabbed books from the bedside table and flipped through them. The Hogwarts yearbook. Memory after memory, match after match, class after class, he remembered his Hogwarts years. They were still a foggy, but who remembers every single, tiny detail?
He grabbed the Puddlemere United book and flipped it open to the bio page on himself. He read the dates for which he started. He remembered his try-out, his first match, and his first win. He then recalled all his teammates and their nights out together. The other teams and even what happened the day that he lost his memory.
"I fell... the Bludger and the Bigonville player who kicked me... I remember it all," Wood said to himself in amazement.
He picked back up the book Hermione had been reading to him to see what more it might say, but the end was a saddening and disappointing one.
And that was the end. No more love, no more fun, just no more. Our summer romance, fling, whatever, it was over. And I realized this: Summer romances begin for all kinds of reasons, but when all is said and done, they have one thing in common: They are shooting stars. A spectacular moment of light in the heavens. A fleeting glimpse of eternity, and in a flash... they're gone.
Wood flipped page after page until he finally reached the end. That was it? Was that truly all?
"No," he assured himself forcefully in a low growl.
He pushed everything from his lap to the bottom of the bed and got up. He stalked out of the room in search of Padma. He had a mission.
Hermione fell through the fireplace of The Burrow, startling Ron.
"Bloody hell!" he gasped as he jumped up and stepped back.
Upon seeing Hermione's face, he quickly helped her to her feet. When he did, he caught a glimpse of her face. She had been crying, he could tell. There were black, wet lines on her face where the soot of the Floo had mixed with tears.
"Hermione?" Ron whispered.
"I told him... and it's just like I thought," Hermione muttered.
By this time, Harry and Ginny were in the room as well after rushing in to see what was wrong with Ron.
"He's angry with me... it's all over, and I knew it would be," Hermione spoke as though getting ready to burst into a mad rant.
"Why don't you come have a nice strong cup of tea, Hermione?" Ginny offered sweetly as she walked over and took her friend's arm.
Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances and frowned.
"Poor 'Mione," Ron mumbled.
"Somehow I don't believe her though," Harry said suspiciously.
"What'd you mean?" Ron inquired.
"Well, you saw the three of them the other day – Kirsten, Hermione, and Wood – I don't think she's right. He likes Kirsten too much and I know he likes Hermione... I have a gut feeling about it," Harry explained.
"You never know," Ron sighed.
"I think I do," Harry said, "and I don't think it's over."
