CHAPTER SEVEN
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
Fatalromance – of course, we can't have Hermione not interacting with the team, it would kill me to not have them sharing a few scenes together, since I love writing them so much.
SereniteRose – No, only Oliver, Thomas, Kingsley and Head Auror Jolkins know of Hermione's attack. They're keeping it a secret and away from the public and media, as well as Harry's and The Weasleys.
Page count: 5
Wood Estate - Wednesday 24th November 1998
Oliver woke to his wand buzzing, letting him know that he had to get up so he could ready for training. Once again, Hermione's cries had woken him during the early hours of the morning, and as he had before, he left his room to lay beside her before falling asleep himself. He woke up to himself wrapped around her, he frowned before quickly leaving her room and heading to his own.
Once he had showered and dressed, he left for the kitchen, upon entrance he saw Hermione moving plates of food over to the table, he noticed that she was able to walk better than the day before, but she had a limp and still seemed to be unsteady on her feet.
"Morning," she greeted when she noticed him, before she moved the mugs onto the table and she sat down.
"Mornin'," he parroted, moving over to the table, scratching Merlin's head in the process.
They ate breakfast in the comfortable atmosphere, before Hermione gave Oliver his lunch for the third day in a row, much to his surprise, and sent him on his way.
Puddlemere United Stadium
Oliver was sat in the canteen with the rest of his team mates, they were as usual, being rowdy idiots and Oliver did his best to ignore them, unfortunately that wasn't possible.
"So, Captain?" Malloy plopped himself down in the chair next to him and Oliver looked up at him apprehensively.
The starting chaser had blonde shoulder length wavy hair with blue eyes, tanned skin and he stood tall at six-foot-two, making him the same height as Oliver. He looked at Oliver's food with a tilted head, seeing that he wasn't eating the disgusting food the canteen served like the rest of the team.
"Can a help ye with somethin'?" Oliver asked annoyed, when he hadn't spoken.
Malloy was going to speak when an owl flew into the room, through the open window and landed in front of Oliver. The owl had brown and black feathers with white spots, a white-grey face and bright yellow eyes. He held his leg up for Oliver to remove the letter before flying back out of the window after giving him an affectionate nip to the finger.
That had been his boreal owl, Wilson, who he had purchased a couple of years ago. Oliver looked down at the letter he held in his hand, there would only be one person who would send a letter with his own owl.
He opened it and looked at the elegant and neat calligraphy on the parchment, he was right, it was from Hermione.
Oliver,
I hope you don't mind me using Wilson to send you this letter, but I didn't have any other way of contacting you. Thomas has been this morning and he has agreed that the progress I have made is suitable, I should have my ability to walk without incidence back by tomorrow and since I can now walk -although with some limping and wobbling- he has lifted my house arrest, I'm free to leave.
Not only would it be extremely rude of me to leave before you get home, I cannot use your floo and I have no idea where we are, plus, I'm not aware of the wards around the property, I will be out of your hair as soon as you get back.
Thank you for helping me, Oliver, truly, thank you. You're a good person and I wish you luck in your training and career, tell those idiot players that they need to buy new brooms, I may not understand Quidditch, but I do know the difference between a beater's bat and the keeper's hoops, which I suppose isn't something to boast about, but at least I do know the rolls of the players, and thanks to you, I now know those three simple plays you told me about, the ones that you said your players are rubbish at and I'm not even going to try and spell them.
Once again, thank you, I will never forget how you have helped me and somehow I will return the favour, you have my word.
I'll have a tumbler of fire whiskey ready for you since you're likely to be on edge when you arrive back after training, but then I will leave, thank you for keeping my secret.
The Queen of Board Games and Merlin.
Oliver frowned at the letter, why was he upset that she was leaving? He didn't know her, not really, they were barely friends, though she was the closest he'd had in a long time. She didn't treat him like others did; she didn't see him for what he was, a Quidditch player and one of Britain's most eligible bachelors. She saw him as Oliver Wood.
The most he had done for her was brought her out of the cold and allowed her to stay with him. She had made him breakfast, she had made him lunch, she made him dinner and ordered food so that he didn't have to cook, not to mention paid for it no matter how much he disliked it. She had given him company when most of the time he was by himself, she had helped him to relax and gave him treatment for his injuries, and she had amused him countless times.
He realised that he would miss her, he would miss her presence around the manor when she left, but she couldn't stay and he knew that. His frown deepened.
"Bad news?" his thoughts were interrupted by Thompson, he was the starting seeker and stood at six-foot, with tanned skin, brown shaggy hair and dark blue eyes.
He looked up and noticed the rest of the team had gathered at the table during his reading of the letter from Hermione.
He didn't answer them, he just stood up and left the canteen to go for a fly to help clear his thoughts.
He left his lunch behind and the letter on the table. Thompson picked it up and read it aloud for everyone, and by the end of the letter they all had confused looks on their faces.
"Who the hell is the Queen of Board Games and Merlin?"
"What do you think happened?" Bishop asked; a starting chaser who stood at five-foot-eleven, with pale skin, brown hair that curled at the tips and dark brown eyes. "What secret is he keeping?"
"Wait a minute, he said we were rubbish!" they rolled their eyes at Malloy.
"By the sounds of things, whoever wrote this letter has been staying with him," Thompson said. They all looked at each other surprised, they knew their Captain and they knew he was a very private person; he wouldn't even let them stay more than a few hours, never mind allowing a woman into his home.
"Maybe we should just ask him," Pallie shrugged. Pallie was a starting chaser on the team, standing at five-foot-eleven, with short, dark brown hair, grey coloured eyes and darkly tanned skin.
"He won't tell us anything," Kings, a starting beater pointed out. He was one of the tallest players on the team, standing at six-foot-three, with curly black hair, brown eyes and lightly tanned skin.
"Well then, maybe we should pay a visit to the manor after training," Wilks, the other starting beater suggested. Wilks, too, stood at six-foot-three, with bright red hair to challenge The Weasleys, dark green eyes and he was tanned too.
"There's no point, according to this letter, whoever he helped is leaving when he gets home, I guess we'll never know who it is or what happened," Thompson spoke, the others sighed.
Oliver walked back into the canteen and pulled the letter from Thompson's grip, glaring at him in the process. He went to open his mouth but the narrowed eyes Oliver looked at him with kept him silent, it seemed he was already in a bad mood, it wouldn't be wise for them to wind him up further.
Oliver stormed out of the room with his broom in hand.
Training that day wasn't pleasant for anyone.
Oliver slowly walked from the locker rooms to the floo, trying to drag out the inevitable, he had admitted to himself that in the short five days, if that, that he had known Hermione Granger, he considered her a friend, and he knew that she wouldn't betray his secrets, he knew she respected his wishes and she never pried into his life, not unless he divulged the information himself.
He reached the floo within minutes, he took a deep breath and stepped in, calling out the address and dropping the floo powder into the grate. He stepped out of the floo and sure enough, Hermione was stood at the bar pouring him a fire whiskey.
She looked up at his entrance and gave him a smile.
"Hey," she greeted, walking over to him with the tumbler in hand, he noticed that her walking was better than it had been that morning, she had a slight limp and only wobbled occasionally.
"Just as promised," she handed him the tumbler and he took it with a nod of thanks, downing it and wincing.
She raised an eyebrow at him but didn't speak. He noticed that her carry on case was by the bar along with Merlin. She was ready to go.
She raised an eyebrow but took the tumbler from him, depositing it on the bar, shrinking down the carry on to fit in her jacket pocket and she picked up the lead that was attached to Merlin's collar.
"A see yer ready tae leave."
"Yes, I'm grateful for all of your help, but I need to get home, get back into a routine, get back to work so that I can work on putting what happened behind me, at least now I'll be out of your hair," she gave him a smile.
"What aboot the games?" he asked, gesturing to the board games and deck of cards still on the table.
"You can keep them, you could do with the practice," she teased him and despite his mood, he felt a small smile pull at his mouth.
"A'll accompany ye home, it'll be easier than dismantlin' the wards fer ye tae apparate." She nodded with a smile.
She made her way over to him and Merlin followed alongside her and they all stepped into the floo, it was a tight fit but they managed.
Oliver held his hand out to her. "We have tae be in contact fer it tae work with ye," he explained. She shrugged, taking his hand, he vaguely registered that it fit in his own hand perfectly.
"It's alright, we have to be in contact for you to gain access to my flat too."
"What's the floo address?"
"Granger Flat."
He picked up some floo powder and called out the address, dropping it into the grate.
Granger Flat
"Well, thank you, Oliver, I really appreci..." Hermione's speech faltered when they stepped out of the floo and into her apartment.
The reason why was obvious, her usual pristine and well organised flat no longer looked that way. Furniture had been overturned, drawers lay empty and its contents covered the floor, books littered the floor, and the bookcases were empty, photo frames lay on the floor smashed with the glass scattered about dangerously.
His eyes flew to the kitchen, the cupboards were opened, the drawers were on the floor along with their contents, the kitchen table was lying on its side along with the four chairs. There were only two other doors, he guessed they led to the bedroom and bathroom.
Hermione still had a hold of his hand and her grip on him tightened. He felt her stiffen next to him and he watched as she let go of Merlin's lead and pulled her wand, gripping it as if her life depended on it.
They heard a noise coming from another room and their eyes darted to it.
Hermione turned to him and motioned for him to be quiet, he was in the process of pulling his own wand when a figure stepped into the room and from what he could see it was the bedroom.
Their eyes went to the figure and he stopped when he noticed them. He had a duffle bag in his hand and he was covered with a black cloak, keeping their identity hidden. The figure's eyes narrowed on Oliver's hand held in Hermione's and his wand came up. It was clear he wasn't pleased with Oliver's close proximity to Hermione.
"Organa Hirniosus," the figure hissed.
The bright orange light left the wand and headed straight for Oliver.