CHAPTER THREE
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
Cheesel0vr – I'm not sure if it's a British thing entirely, but I do know it's what is said and written from the part of England I reside in, just as there are different accents, languages and slang terms in different counties and cities. Where I reside we tend to use 'sat' the most as opposed to sitting or seat, and I'm trying to break out of the habit of using it in my work, but it's really difficult. I remember reading a review from a previous fanfic stating, 'I can tell you're a northern girl from your use of language and terms,' and they're correct, as I am.
Page count: 10
Wood Estate - Sunday 22nd November 1998
Oliver hadn't slept well; his thoughts and dreams had been filled of nothing but the witch currently resting in one of the spare bedrooms of his manor. He thought it strange that he would be the one to find her, to save her, as she had helped him fend off the attention of that drunken woman.
He was disgusted by what had happened to her. Who would want to hurt her? She was Hermione Granger, war heroine, one third of the Golden Trio, she was instrumental in winning the war for them. Why would someone want to hurt her? And in such a violent and horrific manner?
He kept seeing her, she had looked rather beautiful when he had seen her in the bar, but when he found her, she looked so vulnerable, nothing like the confident and powerful woman he had seen at the bar defending him. Nothing like the photos he had seen of her in the newspapers, smiling, scowling, looking annoyed; it depended on her mood and the article that was accompanying the picture.
She was covered in bruises and injuries, had torn clothing and she was completely and utterly vulnerable in her unconscious state.
And she had been a virgin? That surprised him, given her celebrity status, the rumours and her beauty, but then again, you couldn't judge a book by its cover. Her being a virgin made her assault seem worse.
When the news of her assault was told to her she had looked devastated, panicked, which was understandable, hell, he was devastated for her. But then she had that little chat with Thomas and her panic had turned into relief.
Who the hell was relieved at the news of rape?
He sighed, he couldn't sleep anymore and so he climbed out of bed and decided that he would go for a fly around the grounds of his manor. He quickly headed to his bathroom, showered and dried and dressed in jeans, a jumper and a pair of trainers, before casting a Warming Charm over himself, he grabbed his broom and apparated out of the manor.
After an hour and a half of flying around the estate, the sun had risen and he decided it was time to head back. He flew back to the manor before apparating into his living room, rather than walking through the manor.
What he found had him both confused and amused.
Hermione was currently crawling along the floor as her dog, Merlin, was walking beside her, slowly and protectively.
He leaned against the back of his grey corner suite couch and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What do ye think yer doin'?"
She startled and turned to face him, she scowled at him and continued crawling, he noticed that she was heading to the fireplace.
"I'm going home; I will not intrude on your privacy or be a burden to you any longer."
"Yer not a burden," he spoke, shrugging. It was true; she wasn't, he was actually a little curious about her.
"Nevertheless, I'm going home, not only do I have a case I need to research, I have no clothing and I really want to shower."
"Yer cannae get home through the floo, yer not keyed intae the network, ye also cannae apparate since once again, yer not keyed intae the wards," he spoke amused.
"Then key me into your floo network so I can leave and then remove my access or accompany me home," she scowled at him.
"Thomas would kill mae; he said he'd be by this mornin'. Why are ye crawling?"
"I thought it would be fun, much easier than walking, it's great for the knees too," she said sarcastically.
He snorted at her. "Ye cannae walk, can ye?"
"Yes, I can, like I said, I thought crawling would be more fun."
He smirked. "If ye can prove tae mae tha' ye can walk, a'll take ye home."
She stopped crawling and turned to look at him, before looking at the fireplace which was currently five feet away from her. She sighed and she slowly pushed herself up onto her knees and then she stood up on her feet.
He saw her wobble and she took in a deep breath, she took a step forward, but he knew what was going to happen and moved over to her before she hit the ground.
He caught her, scooped her up into his arms and supported her, an arm hooked under her knees and the other around her back and he held her against him. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and she scowled at him with her arms crossed over her chest childishly.
"Ye were saying?" he said amused.
"I can walk; I just stood up too fast and got lightheaded."
"Nice try," he spoke, before turning and walking out of the room and down the corridor that led to Hermione's room.
He pushed the door open with his foot and entered, placing her down on the bed and he only just noticed her dog jump up onto the bed. She was scowling at him and he chuckled.
"Stay."
"Woof!" she replied, he chuckled before walking out of the room and to the fireplace, he threw in some floo powder and called for Thomas.
"Oliver, I was just about to head over."
"Tha's good 'coz a found Granger crawling on the floor an' tryin' tae make a break fer it. A told her tha' if she could prove tae mae tha' she could walk, a would take her home."
"She fainted didn't she?" he said knowingly.
"Almost, a saw her sway on her feet an' a caught her befere she hit the floor, a put her back in her room, ye better get here quickly befere she tries tae leave again."
He chuckled. "Alright, I'll grab my bag and be right through."
Oliver pulled his head from the fireplace and stepped back, Thomas stepped through minutes later and they chatted as they made their way to Hermione's room.
"How's she been?" he asked her.
He shrugged. "Sleeping, a was out flyin' fer an hour an' a half, when a returned twenty minutes ago a caught her tryin' tae leave," he said amused. "She wasnaet happy aboot' mae takin' her back tae her room."
"At least she didn't use her wand against you, she can be very creative. I've treated people that have been on the wrong end of her wand," he spoke amused. "It took me weeks to figure out how to counteract the hexes."
"Okay, tha's frightening."
"That's why I told you, now you won't forget," he smirked.
They stopped in the corridor when they saw Hermione once more crawling along the floor, with Merlin walking beside her slowly.
Thomas cleared his throat and Hermione stopped and looked up, noticing them watching her amused. She sighed.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Home," she replied.
"You can't leave yet."
"I will not be a burden on Oliver any longer."
"Yer not a burden," Oliver spoke.
"You're not a burden," Thomas parroted and Oliver snorted as she scowled.
"I need to go home, Tom," she spoke, "I have a case St. Mungo's has asked me to review and I need to do some research, plus, I need to shower and change."
His eyes softened. "Okay, walk for me."
"What?"
"If you can walk for me, I'll deem you healthy enough to leave."
"Easy," she scoffed.
She rose up onto her knees and used the wall to help her stand up, she supported herself before pushing away and she took a step forward. Oliver saw it coming before it happened and once again he stepped forward and caught her as she fell. He scooped her up as he had before, supporting her knees and back and holding her against him. She once more scowled and crossed her arms.
"Ye know, a'm not sure if yer doin' this on purpose, throwing yerself at mae a mean," he teased, before he remembered why she needed support in the first place and he felt awful.
She didn't seem to mind his words and she scowled up at him.
"Very funny," she muttered. "You're just lucky I dropped my wand." He felt himself relax at her words, glad that he hadn't upset her with his thoughtlessness. "Put me down, I don't care for being manhandled, and I'm heavy."
He shrugged. "Naw, yer not. A've carried Quidditch gear heavier than ye," he wasn't kidding either, "what do ye weight, eight, nine stone?"
Her scowl deepened. "You should never ask a woman what she weighs, if you value your life that is, and I'll have you know that I weigh the average weight for a woman of my stature."
"Still, yer tiny."
"I am not!" she cried indignantly.
He laughed at her; he threw his head back and let out the rich sound.
"I am average height for a woman, in fact, I'm slightly taller seeing as the average height is five-foot-five, and I'm five-foot-six, so you can shove your broom where the sun doesn't shine."
His laughter grew louder and his body shook, she shook in his hold and she was forced to unfold her arms and wrap them around his neck to keep balance, since he almost dropped her.
"If you insist on manhandling me, I request that you don't drop me."
"Don' worry, a could never drop ye, like a said, a've carried Quidditch gear heavier than ye."
"That's comforting," she muttered.
Thomas was watching them interact with a titled head, his eyes missing nothing and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth before he nodded to himself.
"Right, Kiddo, bed for you, I need to run some more diagnostic checks and I need to check your leg."
Oliver pulled himself together and followed Thomas to Hermione's room, he didn't register the fact that his hand was running back and forth on the soft skin of Hermione's leg, where her shorts didn't cover, and neither did she.
When he entered the room he put her on the bed and stepped back.
Thomas put his bag on the floor, put Hermione's wand on the bed since he had picked it up and proceeded to go through the checks. It was ten minutes later when he was finished.
"Your broken wrist is completely healed, your bruises you'll still have for a few days before they clear up, though they'll get darker before they do, your cuts and abrasions have healed nicely, I'm still a little worried about that bump on your head, and your leg hasn't completely healed yet, it'll be at least a day before the break is fixed and at least a few more until your leg is strong enough for you to walk on it. Your leg combined with the bump on your head is the reason you are unable to walk, and you're staying here until I'm certain you're out of the woods."
"I would be if you let me leave," she said childishly, crossing her arms with a pout on her lips.
Oliver looked at her before realising what she'd done and then he burst out laughing, Thomas soon clicked on and he chuckled.
"You're too smart for your own good."
He picked up his bag and opened it up, pulling out a carry on case.
"I went out and bought you some new wash products and I put the spare clothes you keep at my house in here too, there's enough to last you your stay here."
"I hate you."
"I would believe that if you were capable of hate," he said fondly.
"Everyone is capable of hate."
"Not you, Kiddo, there isn't an ounce of darkness in you. You're far too kind, loyal, caring, selfless and optimistic," he spoke softly. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to check on you once more," he kissed her forehead, scratched Merlin behind the ear and clapped Oliver on the shoulder, before leaving the room and they heard the fireplace roar to life, before it went quiet.
Oliver cleared his throat.
"Do ye still want tae shower?" he asked her.
"Yes, I need to wash the reminder of what happened off me."
He flinched. "Af course, but seeing as ye cannae stand, a suggest ye take a bath instead."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" she looked up at him with a slight pout on her face and he felt his mouth twitch in humour, she looked rather adorable in her sulk.
"A'll help ye."
"I don't think so!" she protested and he chuckled at her.
"Relax, Granger, a jus' meant tha' a'll lower ye intae the bath tub in yer clothing, an' a'll leave the room, when a'm gone ye can magic yer clothes aff." She looked at him thoughtfully. "When yer done, ye can drain the tub af water, use Drying Charms an' then magic yer clothes on, then a'll lift ye oot af the bath tub an' bring ye back here."
"You are not my slave and I will not treat you as such."
"A know tha', a want tae help ye."
"Why?"
"It's not ev'ry day a meet someone tha' needs somethin' from mae other than an autograph or an interview. It's not ev'ry day a meet someone tha' needs mae help."
"So glad that I could be that for you," she muttered.
"Tha's not what a meant," he sighed. "Jus' let mae help ye."
She groaned and flopped back onto the mattress and he knew she had given up. He smiled in victory and then waltzed into the bathroom.
The walls were grey with black tile flooring, the glass door shower was in the top left corner of the room and big enough for two, the sink and marble counter was on the right wall, a mirror covered the wall above the counter. There were place holders to keep wash products and the towels were underneath the counter in the cupboards. The toilet sat nearby and the large, white claw foot bath tub sat in the middle of the room, with a second tub, much larger and set in the ground, much like the one in the prefect' bathroom.
"Bobby," Oliver called, and he appeared in the room.
"What can Bobby do for Master Oliver?" he bowed.
"Bobby, please will ye run a bath fer Miss. Granger, she's injured an' so a will be helping her in an' oot af the tub, but a will not stay during her bathing, a would like fer ye tae stay with her in case she requires yer help."
"Bobby is honoured to do as his Master wishes," he bowed once more, before he clicked his fingers and the taps started filling up the smaller bath tub.
"Thank ye, Bobby," he smiled.
He left the room to find Hermione hadn't moved from the bed, but she was laid on her side, supporting her head as she laughed at Merlin, who was currently laid on his back with his legs in the air, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and his eyes closed as Hermione scratched his belly.
He chuckled at the sight.
"Are ye ready?" he asked her.
She looked up away from Merlin and he noticed that several things were sat on the bed ready, soap, shampoo and conditioner, a hair brush, a towel and clean clothing.
"I suppose so," she sighed.
Oliver heard the taps being shut off and he walked over to Hermione, picked her up and then he moved her into the bathroom.
When she saw Bobby she turned a glare on him and he was confused.
"You have a house-elf!"she exclaimed.
"Aye," he answered confused. "Bobby, he's been in me family fer the last six generations, he's been me personal house-elf since befere a could walk, he moved here with mae when a bought the estate, a need his help tae keep this place habitable."
"How do you treat him?"
He would swear he saw a vein in her forehead about to pop.
"What kind af question is tha'?" he asked bemused. "A treat him as a would any other person," he frowned. "He's family."
He felt her relax considerably and he vaguely registered her soft curves pressed against him.
"Do you pay him?"
"Obviously," he rolled his eyes, "he's been paid since he came taa me family, he gets days aff tae, would ye like tae see the rota he made fer himself?" he raised an eyebrow.
"No," her scowl disappeared and she looked at him with an emotion he couldn't quite decipher... interest? Awe? Confusion? Admiration?
"What are his responsibilities?"
"He helps tae clean the manor, along with three other house-elves tha' came with the estate an' he does me laundry," he shrugged. "A have twa other house-elves tha' also came with the property an' they tend tae the grounds, any more questions?"
"No, I think I've covered everything, nice bathroom," she spoke, looking around.
"Thanks, when a bought the estate a had contractors an' decorators in tae modernise the whole manor up, it was tae old-fashioned fer me tastes," he shrugged.
"So you had no hand in the decorating?"
"Naw, a'm rubbish, a couldn't paint a colour-by-numbers." She laughed at him, a warm and pure sound and he felt himself smile in return. "A gave complete artistic control over tae the project manager, a jus' looked pritty an' nodded in the right places."
"Glad to see you're modest," she snorted.
"A'm one af Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors, a'll have ye know," he teased. "An' look at mae, a'm practically a God," he sniffed, lifting his nose in the air.
She looked at him dumbly before she giggled, and then it turned into a full out laugh, her eyes on the verge of tearing up. He wasn't sure if he should be offended or not by her reaction.
"What's so funny?"
She took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'll give it to you, you are handsome." He smiled smugly. "But I take points off for knowing you're handsome, it's all well and good being confident, but being cocky is the makings of an arsehole." He scowled at her and she laughed at him. "Besides, Harry and Ron are both Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors too," she shrugged.
"An' from what a've heard, yer Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelorette, ye have beaten many an athlete an' Pureblood heiress tae the title."
"That's not my doing, I hate that title, men are constantly hitting on me hoping to get something from me, to get their names in the paper," she scowled. He knew that feeling.
"Right then, bath time," he changed the subject and he walked over to the bath tub.
"Granger, this is Bobby."
"Miss," he bowed and Hermione smiled at him.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Bobby, please call me Hermione."
Bobby blushed, his clay coloured and wrinkled skin reddening, his pointed and furry ears curled, his large blue eyes looked downcast, and he fiddled with the edge of his brilliant white pillow case and apron that kept his clothing clean.
"Bobby is honoured to call the Miss," his voice shook. Hermione looked at Oliver and he shrugged.
"Bobby will be staying with ye in case ye require any help an' so ye don' injure yerself further," he chuckled when she slapped his shoulder and scowled.
"Bobby is pleased to help the Miss. Hermione," he bowed. "The water be ready for the Miss."
"Thank ye, Bobby," Oliver said kindly and then he lowered Hermione down into the water, not seeming to be bothered about the fact his jumper sleeves were soaked right up to his shoulders.
Hermione hissed against the temperature of the water and once Oliver was sure that she was in the water, he removed his arms and stepped back, brandishing his wand and drying himself off.
"Bobby, please find mae when Granger is done bathing."
"Of course, Master Oliver," he bowed and Oliver smiled at the house-elf.
"Enjoy yer bath, Granger," he spoke, before waltzing out of the room, closing the door behind him and he made his way to the kitchen, he hadn't yet had breakfast and he was starving.
His kitchen and dining room was large, very large, it was one of the reasons he had bought the manor in the first place. Not many people knew this about Oliver, only his mother and father really, but Oliver loved to cook, almost as much as he loved Quidditch, and being a chef had been his second career choice.
The flooring was white marble and the walls black with white and silver accents, the right wall was nothing but floor to ceiling glass windows, showing the view of the grounds, seeing as the kitchen was on the first floor. He had black marble counter tops, white cupboards both on the wall above the counter and below the counter. He had a black kitchen island and breakfast bar, complete with a double sink and black leather stools surrounded one side. He had four ovens, all silver, three of them were built into the wall and the other sat in the gap between the counter top, giving access to the hob. There was soft lighting built into the ceiling and the kitchen and dining table was white with six matching chairs.
He went straight to the cupboards, seeing them fully stocked and he rummaged through his supplies, deciding what to make for breakfast, he was starving, no doubt Hermione was starving and he remembered her dog when he felt a nudge on his leg.
He looked down.
"Well then, Merlin, a bet yer hungry," he spoke. The dog barked in response. "We'll have tae get breakfast made whilst Granger's in the bath then, bacon an' sausage?" He barked, Oliver chuckled before cautiously giving the dog a scratch on the head and he went about pulling out the food and proceeding to make it.
When he had finished he put the food onto plates and cast charms over them.
"Does Granger drink coffee?" he asked the dog, he didn't know why he had done that, but the dog didn't bark. "Tea?" The dog barked, much to Oliver's surprise. Oliver quickly put a tea bag into a mug and filled it with boiling water, doing the same for himself. "Milk?" the dog barked. "Sugar?" he didn't bark and Oliver nodded, putting the finishing touches on the cups of tea, he moved everything over to the table, before putting a plate on the floor for Merlin, who greedily ate the food.
Oliver chuckled and sat at the table, but he didn't eat, he was waiting for Hermione and he suspected she wouldn't be much longer.
And he was right.
"Master Oliver, the Miss. Hermione is ready," Bobby spoke when he popped into the room.
"Thank ye, Bobby," he smiled at the house-elf and then stood and made his way back to Hermione.