CHAPTER TEN
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
KinFinLan – I'm not sure on the length of this fic, I would like to say between 20 and 30 chapters, but I said the same for most of my other fics and was never able to stick to that goal, always writing more chapters than I intended, which is why it takes so long to complete them. I have the storyline planned out, it just depends on how much content I can fit into one chapter at a time.
SereniteRose – Yes, Hermione's attacker and stalker will be revealed in the future, and no, she will not have any powers or abilities outside of her regular magical capabilities and intelligence.
AN
It's interesting reading all of your theories regarding the identity of Hermione's attacker, but whether or not any of you are correct or not, is going to remain a mystery. I can't be giving away the plotline, then they'll be no surprises, and you should know by now how much I love throwing in a good surprise.
Page count: 6
Wood Estate - Wednesday 24th November 1998
"Why did you buy the estate?" she asked him. He could see that her eyes were drooping and so he answered her question to keep her attention engaged.
"The Muggle World is far cheaper than the Wizarding World, if a bought an estate such as this in our world, it would've cost mae triple what a paid in this world. Also, naw one would think tae look fer mae here, a'm a Pureblood wizard, born an' raised in the Wizarding World, granted tha' a don' actually go oot intae the Muggle World seeing as a'm the only resident fer miles, but still, a Pureblood owning property in the Muggle Word is a very rare occurrence, almost unheard af. An' a like me privacy, here a'm not at risk af fans finding mae an' a have plenty af land tae fly over, tae train on an' tae jus' wander. A thought it would be a good place tae raise a family, when a eventually reach tha' stage in me life," he shrugged.
"A'll give ye a tour when yer feeling better. Yer've only seen the living room, the kitchen an' yer room. The manor has twa floors, this one is fer personal use, the floor beneath us is more fer guests with the formal dining room, the drawing room, the kitchen an' pantry, guest bedrooms, things like tha'," he said and she hummed.
The floo roared to life and food was left in its wake, Oliver stood, retrieved a few galleons and picked up the food which he took over to the coffee table.
"Granger, food's here."
"Later," she mumbled.
"Granger!"
She bolted up right and scowled at him.
"Food's here," he repeated, pulling the food out from the bag it arrived in and handing it to Hermione, whilst summoning forks from the kitchen. "Eat," he ordered, she continued to scowl at him but knowing he wasn't going to allow her to sleep, she started eating.
After they finished with their food and the forks and rubbish were sent to the kitchen, Oliver could be found leaning back against the corner suite, still perched next to Hermione and she was once again laying down and cocooned in her blanket.
"Honest hour?" he said, "We never did do it again."
"Okay," she responded. "Go for it."
"Favourite place?"
"Easy, Hogwarts Library, that was the only place where I wasn't in danger, where I was safe and I could avoid the troubles of the war by emerging myself in books. I was alone and comfortable. I didn't have death hanging over my head there, I didn't have roommates being bitchy and I didn't have Sytherins calling me every derogatory name under the sun," she said quietly and he frowned at her answer. "Next?"
"Favourite food?"
"Don't have one, I will literally eat anything you put in front of me, well unless it contains onions, I hate onions." He filed that away. "Though I love Sugar Quills; I usually carry some with me, no matter where I go, they're good to give to children too during treatment since it helps to calm them, as well as my patients that have low sugar levels."
"Favourite book?" he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer; he had seen her wandering the hallways back at Hogwarts with that book always in her hand.
"Hogwarts, a History."
He was right.
"Favourite magical creature?"
"Thestrals, despite their affiliation with death and their dark and frightening appearance, they are the gentlest creatures I have ever come across." He didn't bother questioning how she could see them, after the war a lot of people had witnessed death.
"Why did ye never date Potter?"
He heard her make a sound of disgust which amused him. "He's my brother in everything but blood, he's my family."
"Why did ye break up with Weasley?"
"We're better off as friends. There were a lot of expectations for us to grow up, get married and have an army of curly redheads running around. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was expected of me, by the public, by friends and by The Weasleys. But I couldn't do it, we're not compatible. All we do is argue, fight and curse each other. There was nothing between us but friendship, we were taking the familiar feelings we had for each other and trying to force them into something it wasn't. I couldn't even hold his hand without wanting to laugh awkwardly, never mind do anything of a sexual nature. He's not the person I can see a future with, whether it's only a few months or the rest of my life. Ron's my friend, just my friend."
"I want a partner that won't judge me on my past mistakes or achievements. That doesn't want me for my fame or my money, someone that doesn't care for who my friends are or who I associate myself with. I want a partner that will tell me the truth, that won't lie to me, but to tell me what I need to hear without being mean about it. Someone that will be my friend and understand my relationship with Harry and Ron without getting jealous. I suppose any chance of me dating will have to wait until the creepy fucker that's stalking me is caught, I won't put anyone at risk. I'll focus on my work and keeping myself to myself so that there's no chance of him getting jealous."
"I hate that he's taken over my life. The war is over, I'm supposed to be free; I'm not supposed to be scared for myself or my friends and family." He looked down at her sadly. "I need you to promise me something, Oliver."
"What?"
"Be careful."
"Quidditch is a perfectly safe profession."
She snorted. "The injuries some of my patients come to me with say otherwise, and I didn't mean in your career. Please be careful when you're out in public. There's a reason that curse was aimed at you and not at me," she titled her head up to look at him, seeing that he was looking down at her with a look on his face she couldn't decipher. "He saw you with me and that's now made you a possible target, and knowing that you are one of Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors, that means you're well known, it won't take him long until he figures out who you are. He's a very possessive person, he tried to kill you just because you were standing next to me, if he ever found out I was staying with you, the crazy bastard would likely torture you. So please, be careful, you must always be on your guard, always be ready to apparate or throw up a shield. I could never live with myself if you were injured because of me."
"In the last week I've grown to think of you as a friend, my friends are important to me and there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect my friends and family. I can deal with him ruining my life, but the minute he even attempts to hurt you, I'll track the fucker down myself and kill him." Her soft features were set hard, determination and honesty set in her eyes.
Her confession did something to him, something he couldn't quite explain, but his insides clenched and he felt a wave of affection hit him. It worried him.
"So, please, I don't particularly want to become a murderer, please be careful."
"A'll be careful," he promised her.
A relieved look crossed her face before she snuggled back down into her pillow.
"I'm tired," she yawned.
"Ye cannae go tae sleep; it hasn't been three hours yet," he informed her.
She gave a sleepy grumble.
"Talk to me," she requested.
"Aboot what?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, anything, talk to me about Quidditch."
"Ye know nothin' aboot Quidditch."
"I know, so teach me, Harry, Ron and the rest of The Weasleys tried but I never understood a word they were saying, when you told me about those plays the other day, you did it in a way which I could grasp, it's easy to talk to you, it's easy to understand you."
"Alright, ye know aboot the Finbourgh Flick..."
"A chaser uses their broom to hit the quaffle."
"Correct, the Porskoff Ploy..."
"A chaser flies up and throws the quaffle to another chaser below them."
"Correct, an' the Woollongong Shimmy..."
"Chaser flies in a zig-zag motion to confuse opposing chasers."
"Correct, another play, Hawkshead Attacking Formation, this is the chasers flying in a triangle formation, the result af this is tha' it forces other players oot af the way, givin' ye a path tae the goal posts."
"Okay, got it."
"Another is the Dopplebeater Defence, this is both beaters hitting a bludger at the same time."
"It'll double the force of the bludger colliding with a target, causing more damage and hopefully making the opposing team a member down."
"Right," he beamed but she didn't see his reaction. "Ye cannae substitute players unless the match has been goin' fer hours, we do have reserve players but they're only put intae play if a player has been injured an' cannae play during the next scheduled match, it isnae often they play a match the same day as a starting player gettin' injured, ye jus' have tae continue playing a player down."
"Hmm," she hummed tiredly. "Tell me another one?"
"The Wronski Feint..."
"I know that one, it was Viktor's signature move, Harry's done it a few times and he scared the hell out of me more times that I care to admit. A seeker takes a sharp dive towards the ground as if to catch the snitch, the opposing seeker sees and follows, but the seeker pulls up in time, whereas the opposing seeker crashes into the ground," she explained and he appeared to be surprised.
"Tha's right."
"Another one?"
"Dionysus Dive, this is a chaser standing up on their broom an' they jump aff it, punching the quaffle through the goal posts."
She snorted. "Who would be stupid enough to do that? Call me crazy but I prefer my feet firmly on the ground and not falling two hundred feet to my death."
"The referee is usually quick enough with a wand tha' the chaser is fine, a couple af injuries but fine."
"Well that makes it alright then, risking your life for a mere ten points," she said dryly and he chuckled at her. "Has it been three hours yet?"
He looked up at the clock. "Naw," he answered, she sighed.
"Tell me something else, tell me about fouling, I don't understand those either?"
"There are seven hundred listed fouls, though the majority af them have never been shown tae the public fer fear tha' it will give teams ideas," he said and she snorted. "Ninety percent af fouls involve the use af a wand which is, af course, illegal, an' the remaining ten percent af fouls are thought tha' not even the dirtiest af players would use them. All seven hundred fouls were committed at the World Cup Final af 1473."
"Bloody hell, they were busy boys," she commented and he chuckled at her.
"Some af these included a chaser bein' transfigured intae a polecat, the attempted decapitation af a keeper with a broadsword, setting fire tae an opponent's broom, attacking an opponent's broom with a club, attacking an opponent with an axe an' the Transylvanian Captain releasing blood-sucking vampire bats from his robes."
"Very creative," she muttered and he snorted.
"But there are eleven common fouls seen in a Quidditch match."
"Okay, what are they?" she asked, he smiled at her intrigue, he had never had to explain Quidditch in so much detail to a person before.
"Blagging, Blatching, Blocking, Blurting, Bumphing, Cobbing, Flacking, Haversacking, Quaffle-pocking, Snitchnip and Stooging." She nodded. "Blagging first, Blagging applies ta all players, it's seizing an opponent's broom tail tae slow or hinder their flight." Se hummed. "Blatching, this applies tae all players, this is flying with the intent tae collide with an opposing team player. Blocking, this applies tae beaters an' chasers, it's deliberately putting yerself in the path af the seeker, stopping them from catching the snitch. Blurting applies tae all players, this is locking broom handles with the intent tae steer the opponent in a different direction or aff course... Granger, ye awake?"
She hummed. "Blurting, what's next?" she mumbled.
"Bumphing, this applies tae beaters, it's hitting bludgers towards spectators," he looked up at the clock and noticed it had been three hours, but he didn't tell her that.
"Cobbing, this applies tae all players an' it's the excessive use af elbows towards an opponent. Flacking, this applies tae keepers, this is a keeper using any part af their body tae push the quaffle oot af the hoop, the goal post must be defended from the front only," he explained, she hummed.
She lifted her hand out from under her blanket and held it up. "Give me your hand."
"Why?" he asked, but still he gave her his hand.
She rested his hand on her head and snuggled back into her blanket.
"I have a headache, it's your turn to massage me, it'll help with the pain; Harry does it for me all the time."
He shrugged, he started massaging her head through her soft and thick curls and she gave a sigh.
"Has it been three hours yet?"
"Aye, it has."
"Good, I'm exhausted and the Pain Potion's wearing off," she said tiredly.
It wasn't long until her breathing evened out, but he didn't stop from massaging her scalp, and occasionally he played with one of her curls whilst she slept, feeling the silkiness of her hair against his skin whilst he pondered the strange turn his life had taken.