LOOKY! I updated!
Mostly in celebration that SCHOOL ENDS NEXT WEEK. But other than that, hey, cool, whatever.
Chapter Seven: First Kiss
Voldemort sat in the Great Hall of his palace, waiting for Lucius' news. A casual observer (not that there were many of them in the headquarters of the darkest wizarding group on the planet) would have thought all of his energy was focused on the writhing minion in front of him who was trying very hard not to die.
In truth, Voldemort had his mind on the annoying little Potter girl, who was turning out to be the exact opposite of what he had originally thought of her.
His mind had been on Gemma, in fact. He thought that he saw his daughter's mulberry curls and golden eyes in that insatiable enemy.
But maybe he was wrong. Gemma had broken so easily . . .
With a savage twist of his wand, Voldemort sent the groveling minion into even deeper regions of pain. They all broke so easily.
But not her. This other Potter child. She didn't seem to be breaking at all.
A laugh bubbled up from somewhere inside of him, spilling over his lips until the horrible sound echoed in the room. His Deatheaters trembled. They thought he laughed for pain.
He laughed for power.
"Well?" asked Ron impatiently. Oliver was about to echo the same question, but thought it prudent. Generally he wasn't a prudent person, but haste had almost gotten Hermione killed.
"I have some good news, and bad news," repeated the nurse. "Which would you like to hear first?" The group blanched, except for the newest additions still sulking gracefully in the doorway.
"Good news," sighed Mrs. Weasley. The nurse nodded, and gave them encouraging smiles.
"Well, she's going to be fine," said the nurse. There was a unanimous sigh of relief. The nurse, however, wasn't done. "Unfortunately, she has to wake up first." This brought a moment of silence.
"Wake up?" asked Harry, voice raising a note on the final word.
"The venom she was caught with is very deadly. We extracted most of it, but there was a little that got to her heart. When she wakes up, which she will eventually, her heart won't be what it used to."
"What does that mean?" demanded Oliver. The nurse didn't even blink at his snappish tone. She was used to being harassed by relatives.
"Does she play quidditch?" asked the nurse. Harry shook his head.
"Think's it's a bloody waste of a sport," he murmured.
"Then she'll be fine," replied the nurse. "Just no long distance running and she'll be fine." When she wakes up, thought Oliver savagely, If she does.
Lucius Malfoy thought this the best place to exit, and with a sly glance to see if his son was following him, swept from the small waiting room into the lobby of the hospital. With a glance of disgust, he Disapparated, Draco behind him.
Voldemort was working on his third minion when Lucius appeared. His heir wasn't with him, so this was purely business. Not that the Malfoys paid a large amount of social calls on the Dark Lord.
After Lucius' narrow escape from Azcaban, he kept mostly clean. Voldemort was amused by this, and therefore didn't kill him on principal. They had reached an agreement. Lucius would become his spy within the Ministry. Not that he hadn't been already. But Voldemort needed someone in deep.
"She's alive," said Lucius. Voldemort stopped torturing Dolohov.
"Pardon?" he hissed. Lucius visibly recoiled. Voldemort turned with disgust from his loyal, slavering followed.
"Go," he snapped. They vanished with a pop, until the only one left was Lucius.
"We'll kill her," he promised, and then he too Disapparated.
The entire Weasley clan had gone home, after trooping in to see Hermione. Oliver was the only one left. He was staying with the Weasleys, but had shot off a brilliant, but of the moment, excuse that he had to stay in London for a while.
He had spent a total of ten hours waiting for Hermione to wake up now. She was so peaceful, lying there, her hair spread across the pillow in a halo, like someone had arranged it.
The magical monitoring devices clicked and groaned and hissed like Muggle machines. She still had tubes in her arms, but they were glowing with the magical stimuli that they pumped into her system.
Oliver still didn't know why he was sitting there, watching her sleep. The nurse had told them that she probably wouldn't wake up until the next few days, or maybe a week.
But he still had to wait it out, see what would happen. He had this inane need to be there when she woke up. To be the first thing she saw.
Right now all she was doing was lying there, glowing eyes closed for Merlin knows how long, hair like an angel's halo. It was like they wanted her to be dead.
Damn it, Wood, Oliver told himself, this is Hermione.
Oliver told himselfSmart, funny, and beautiful Hermione, said an irrational part of his brain.
She's Harry's bloody sister! She hates quidditch.
But not necessarily you, pointed out the irrational part.
SHE'S A BLOODY SIGN POINT FOR DISASTER!
But you're falling for her anyway.
Falling for Hermione?
Yep. Sorry, Wood, but you're falling for a smart, beautiful, funny, quidditch-hating walking sign post for disaster.
Oliver dropped his head into his hands. Why was his life suddenly getting so very bloody difficult?
When he had accepted the flying instructor's position at Hogwarts, he thought he just wanted to see the school again, deck some points from Slytherin, and see the best Seeker he'd ever had play his final year.
But was it because of Hermoine?
He thought that when she cleared Harry's glasses in third year he could have kissed her. She was brilliant. Perfect. And now a Potter.
Oh, Oliver understood exactly what Harry's stance in the bloody dress shop was. He was taking on the protective-older-brother-syndrome like second skin.
And Oliver was the enemy.
He came out of his thoughts just as he was nodding off to sleep. His head was dangerously close to hers.
Up close, her rosy lips seemed perfect. The perfect small, little pink mouth. He wondered what it would be like to kiss that mouth.
She was asleep. No one would remember.
He leaned forward, until his upper body was over hers. Her breath was even, as if she was just taking a nap, and her lips were partially open. A small sight of some little crooked white teeth (but endearingly so) peered through her lips.
Oliver paused over her, matching his breath with hers, until he felt that they were aligned almost perfectly.
Then he leaned down and pressed his mouth on hers.
There was a shot of electricity that shot up through his mouth, and down his throat. Through her lips he could taste her heartbeat. That small mouth opened a little wider, deepening the kiss, until all of Oliver's senses were focused on that one small part of her body.
The throbs of her heart were thickly echoing down his throat, and Oliver drew back with a gasp.
Now that was a kiss.
Hermione was making little mewing noises, and her eyes fluttered. Fucking bloody Merlin's balls, thought Oliver, throwing himself out of his chair and backing towards the door, she's awake.
Hermione's eyes were open now, and making a sweep of the room. She still seemed in a haze. Her fingers were pressed to her swollen mouth, and in a few seconds, she would spot him.
Dammit.
Hermione had awoken to the strangest feeling. It felt like someone was kissing her. But not just kissing her. As far a first kisses went, it was one of the eat-your-heart-out-Meg-Ryan types.
She could still taste him on her lips. The way a guy should taste. Deeply masculine, with a hint of some mint and maybe coffee.
Her eyes finally made it to the door, where they rested on a hazy figure. She still couldn't see straight, but she could make out some considerable height and fuzzy hair.
"Ron?" she asked, and the figure turned with a small noise and was out the door.
OOOH, who is the evil goddess?
ME.
Hehehehehehehehehehehehe.
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