CHAPTER TWELVE

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.

AN

It's interesting to see some of the theories that are circling regarding who you think Hermione's stalker is, but as usual, I can neither deny nor confirm your theories, and we'll have to wait and see when that is finally revealed.

Q&A

Riversgirl75 – Maybe not coaching, but a few choice words here and there, I would like to think would put the fear of Merlin in them. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of her wand and neither would the team.

Page count: 8

Wood Estate – Sunday 30th November 1998

"What do ye want tae do?" Oliver asked her, moving their dishes over to the sink to be washed later. With it being Sunday it was his day off and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been looking forward to getting away from the stadium and spending more time with Hermione.

She shrugged. "I had just planned on doing more research into techniques to help ease the pain of arthritis in the human body, several of my patients have it and I don't like prescribing them Pain Potions. If too many are ingested over a small period of time, they become ineffective and it can lead to side effects," she explained.

Oliver returned to the kitchen table and sat opposite her. "Such as?"

"I doubt you really want to know, I know my job isn't as exciting as yours and I'm sure there's something else you want to talk about that you'll find more interesting."

Oliver frowned. "A want tae know, honestly, a havnae met abo'dy as smart as ye an' a like learning somethin' new. Healing's a tough profession tae get intae. If a dinnae want tae know more, a wouldn't have asked."

Hermione eyed him carefully, deciding whether or not he was telling the truth or if he just wanted to be polite.

"Alright then," she conceded, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table and he mimicked her actions. "The average person can take no more than three Pain Potions a day without suffering from the side effects, such as nausea, headaches or drowsiness. If a Pain Potion is ingested more than fifteen times in a single week, that's when problems begin to arise, particularly if you already have a weak immune system." He nodded, a look of concentration on his face. "Arthritis can be a painful ailment to have, and unsurprisingly, it's more common in muggles than it is magicals, which is why most healers are unable to identify and treat it effectively. I've written a few research papers on the topic and had them published in a medical journal, in hopes that this issue can be solved and other medical professionals are able to correctly identify it within patients."

Oliver looked at her in surprise at that news, having no idea that she was also a published writer as well as a highly sought after private healer.

"Now as for the side effects of the potion, it varies from person to person, but the main side effects appear to be a loss of appetite, weight loss, chest pains, loss of vision whether it be temporary or permanent and high blood pressure, and if that isn't enough, high blood pressure can be very dangerous."

"Why?" he asked, leaning forward a little more.

"If it's not managed correctly it can cause black outs, as well as blood clots in the arteries preventing blood from being carried to the brain, and this can lead to a stroke or even a heart attack. Even with magic at our disposal, strokes and heart attacks are difficult for us to prevent."

"Remind mae tae monitor me intake af Pain Potions," he spoke and she chuckled at him.

"This is why I'm doing research into other potential methods of managing pain. There is the option of muggle pain killers, but most magicals are sceptical regarding their efficiency and they don't trust their manufacturing, which only makes my job more difficult."

"A can imagine, tha's why a'm glad a don' have the brains tae do somethin' as difficult as yer profession. A'll stick tae Quidditch," he chuckled and she frowned at him.

"You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for," she told him honestly, seeing the way his face morphed into surprise. "You could do anything you wished to and with the right mentor and training, I don't doubt you'd be good at anything you decided to do. And just because you're a Quidditch player doesn't mean you're not smart, because you are. I've seen the requirements a Captain needs in order to lead their team to victory. Harry is my best friend and I spent hours watching him pour over plays and strategies in the common room at Hogwarts. I've never understood Quidditch, despite my OWL and NEWT results. Despite all the spells I can cast, despite all the knowledge I have in my head. You are smart and you shouldn't let anyone tell you any differently, and you shouldn't be so self-depricating either. It's not good for you."

"Ye think a'm smart?" he questioned in disbelief.

"No, I know you're smart. You'd have to be to remember all the rules and fouls of the sport. To be able to strategise and work different plays into a game that will give you the best chance of success. I could never do that. I've always been rubbish at wizard's chess. I have the knowledge, but I don't have a strategic mind, which you do."

He blinked, staring at her in a way that made her shift in her chair and for a light blush to stain her cheeks. Oliver's lip twitched when he noticed.

"Anyway, that's enough of that," she cleared her throat. "I wanted to talk to you about rent."

"Rent?" he said dumbly.

"Yes, rent," she confirmed. "Since you have been so generous and allowed me to stay with you, I must insist that I contribute in some way and the only way I can think of that is to pay you rent for my staying here."

He snorted at her. "A dinnae offer ye a place tae stay so a could take ye money, Granger. A did it 'coz it was the right thing tae do. There is naw place safer fer ye than here. Besides, it's been a while since a had a roommate. This place's tae big fer only mae an' the house-elves, we could use yer company."

"And I would be more than happy to keep you company, and I will still pay for my staying her. I don't care what you do with the money, as long as I know I'm contributing in some way then I will be happy."

"Ye do realise tha' a own the manor an' the land, right?"

"And?"

He eyed her strangely. "Yer not gunna let this go, are ye?"

"No," she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms with a look of challenge on her face.

He sighed and a smug smile pulled at her mouth, realising that she had won the argument.

"Fine, ye really want tae pay fer staying with mae?"

"Yes,"

"Okay, fifty galleons a month, agreed?" he asked, holding his out to her for her to shake in agreement.

She scoffed at him. "No,"

"Naw?" he said in surprise, dropping his hand onto the table.

"You heard me, no."

He frowned. "Fine, seventy-five a month."

"Not happening in your life time."

"What would ye suggest then?"

"Three hundred a month."

"Not happening in yer life time," he fired her words back at her.

"Why the bloody hell not?" she demanded to know with a scowl on her face.

"A'm not takin' tha' much aff ye fer rent."

"Well I think you should."

"Well a'm not gunna." She huffed at him. "What did ye pay fer yer last flat?"

"Two-fifty a month."

Oliver made a noise of surprise. "Seriously?" She nodded. "Sorry tae tell ye this, but ye were severely over paying. Befere a bought the manor, a lived in an apartment tha' was three times the size af yer flat an' it was cheaper by almost fifty galleons. Yer landlord was taking advantage af ye."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I know I was over paying, the original price was one seventy-five a month, but seeing as I had a dog and I wanted anonymity, I had to pay extra. I gave him what he wanted so that he would keep the flat's listing private and so nothing and no one would be able to connect me to the flat. I only left and entered the apartment through the floo, I never opened the door to anyone, I never met or interacted with any of my neighbours and I paid the rent in cash, sending the money with an owl that could not be traced back to me."

Oliver blinked in surprise. "He still took advantage af ye an' it isnae right."

"It doesn't matter; I'm no longer living there. Despite all of my attempts to remain hidden, I was still found," she replied, looking down at the table.

"Whoever this arsehole is, he won't find ye here."

She nodded but didn't reply. "I'll give you three hundred a month."

"Not happening," he snorted. "A'll take one hundred.

"Two-fifty," she countered.

"One-fifty," he replied, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms.

"Two twenty-five."

"One seventy-five."

"Two hundred, and that's as low as I'll go."

His gaze locked on hers and his resolve melted. "Fine, twa hundred," he agreed, shaking her hand. "Now tha's finally settled, let's give ye a tour."

"I can't walk," she frowned.

Whilst Thomas had confirmed the day before that her leg had finished healing, the bone wasn't quite strong enough yet for her to even attempt to walk on her own, though she could now stand which she thought was progress.

"Easily solved," he shrugged, standing from his chair and before he could pick her up, she stopped him.

"Oliver, you've still got an injured shoulder, you shouldn't be doing any heavy lifting until it's completely healed," she told him in her best healer's tone of disapproval. "I have a better idea," she said, before pulling her wand from her pocket and he raised an eyebrow when she removed her shoes, transfiguring one of them into a strange looking plank with wheels. "It's a skateboard," she grinned.

"A what?" he asked confused.

"Skateboard, muggle kids love them," she explained, before pulling herself out of her seat and struggling to lift herself onto it, but she did in the end. "There, since I can't yet move my leg, you'll either have to push or pull me along, but at least you won't have to carry me. It's actually a lot of fun, I'll prove it to you when I'm better."

"If ye say so," he replied amused, before taking her hand in his and pulling her along. She wobbled slightly and laughed loudly when the wheels got caught on one of the chairs at the table and she nearly fell off and he shook his head and chuckled at her.

It took a short while but Oliver was able to show her around the first floor of the manor, and he explained that whilst the ground floor was for guests and entertaining them, the first floor was for private use.

The first floor held the kitchen and living room as she had seen many times before, as well as it holding her bedroom, Oliver's bedroom and a further five bedrooms, all of them furnished and with their own bathrooms but undecorated. Also on the floor there were two separate bathrooms.

Oliver led her to a door she hadn't noticed near the fireplace in the living room and he opened it show a large landing with a grand staircase. Despite Hermione's protests, Oliver picked her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs until they reached the last step, bringing them into the foyer.

They made their way to the left first, Oliver showing Hermione the parlour, the formal living room, the formal dining room which was bigger than the living room and the kitchen combined, and he showed her the kitchen which was meant for the production of food on much larger scales. There were a couple of empty rooms without furnishings or decorations and Oliver explained that he hadn't yet decided what to do with them. They then made their way back to the foyer and went down the right corridor.

Oliver took her into the first room, it was smaller than the rest but it only contained one thing. A black grand piano. He sat himself on the stool and watched as Hermione softly ran her fingertips over the polished wood, before she lightly pressed a key, followed by another, hearing that it was perfectly tuned.

"Do you play?" she asked him, her fingers running over the keys as if itching to play.

He shook his head. "Ma wanted mae tae take lessons when a was younger but a never had any interest, a was tae focused on Quidditch. Tae appease her a did attend a couple af lessons, but a hated it an' the witch was awful. A begged me Ma tae let mae quit an' once she met me instructor, she dinnae put up a fuss. She dinnae like her either," he chuckled. "Do ye play?" he asked curiously.

Her fingers ran over the keys once more before she turned her eyes to him.

"No, no I don't," she replied, yet Oliver got the feeling she was lying to him. He had seen the way a spark entered her eyes when she touched the keys, but understanding that she didn't want him to push the subject, he took her to another room in the manor.

Hermione gawked at the sight that met her, her eyes moving between the floor to ceiling windows that covered the entirety of the back wall, showing a beautiful view of the grounds, the sky light above and the largest swimming pool she had ever seen in her life.

"You have a bloody indoor swimming pool!" she exclaimed making him laugh at her.

"Aye, I do," he said, his eyes twinkling as he perched himself on one of the lounge chairs by the side of the pool.

"But why?" she asked, apparently at a loss for words.

"Why not?" he replied with a shrug. "A don' use it as much as a probably should," he admitted. "But, as a said befere, ye have access tae anythin' in this manor, nothin' is aff limits tae ye. Ye have complete free run af the place, ye might use this more than a do," he nodded to the pool.

"I doubt it," she muttered.

"An' why is tha'?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. She mumbled something under her breath but he didn't hear her. "What?"

She sighed and turned to face him with an embarrassed look crossing her face. "I can't swim," she admitted.

"Excuse mae?" he said in surprise. Who couldn't swim?

"I can't swim," she shrugged, looking down at the ground and fiddling with her hands behind her back.

He frowned. "But a thought ye were a part af a task fer the Triwizard Tournament."

"I was, it's why I was initially against partaking, even if I was the thing Viktor would miss the most. Dumbledore convinced me otherwise and promised that nothing would happen to me. The merpeople would protect me until I was rescued, either by Viktor or Dumbledore himself. I was terrified. When I broke through the surface of the water the spell I'd been put under wore off instantly, and in my panic I almost drowned the both of us. It took me two weeks to be able to sleep without nightmares."

"A'll teach ye tae swim," he said, nodding to himself.

"I don't think so," she protested. "You are not getting me anywhere near that water," she said, pointing to the pool. "You'd have a better chance of getting me on a broom."

"A fergot ye cannae fly, a've got me work cut oot fer me."

"Not a chance in hell is that happening."

"We'll see."

"No, we won't," she said, crossing her arms and daring him to argue with her.

He shook his head at her with an amused smile on his face, before she turned her eyes to look out the windows, seeing the dark grey sky and the pouring run down the glass.

"When the weather lets up a'll show ye around the grounds. A havnae explored it all yet so a'm not exactly sure what we'll find, but a suppose we'll find oot tagether. A do know there are a few guest houses dotted aboot the place, a've seen them when a'm flying over the grounds."

"Guest houses?" she questioned.

He shrugged. "A dunno why they're there, a jus' found them an' had them done up like the the manor. A assume the previous owners rented them oot tae families fer weekends away an' they made a bit af money on the side."

"Have you thought about doing that?" she asked curiously.

"Naw," he shook his head. "A don' need the money an' a don' like the idea af strangers wandering around. They're far enough away tha' ye'd have tae fly tae them or use one af those muggle cars." She raised an eyebrow. "Aye, a know what they are," he chuckled at her surprise. "There's a large building attached tae the manor which a assume if fer keeping muggle cars in, an' a know each guest house has their own building tae."

"They're called garages," Hermione nodded. "Muggles not only use them to store their cars, but also their motor bikes and bicycles, as well as boxes of items and what not. It's essentially a ground floor attic."

He nodded in understanding. "Come on then, there's only one room left fer ye tae see an' a think ye gunna like it."

Hermione looked at him curiously as he led her to the final room in the manor, and upon entering through the open door her eyes widened.

"Merlin," she whispered.

Her eyes darted about the library, seeing it decorated in blues and silvers, with plush looking furniture, a wooden coffee table and two large tables and chairs, along with the walls lined with books upon books. More than she could ever dream of owning in her lifetime. It was clear to her that it was nowhere near the size of Hogwarts library, but she was sure she'd die before she ever managed to read every single book in front of her.

"So, yer favourite?" Oliver asked knowingly, leaning against the door frame and watching Hermione take it all in.

"By far, my absolute favourite," she sounded breathless, looking as though she couldn't wait to scan the titles and cuddle up on one of the arm chairs with a book in hand. "I am never leaving."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Well, ye are; it's lunch time an' a'm starving."

A slight pout formed on her lips, followed by a crease in her forehead as she frowned. Oliver thought she looked rather adorable.

"We can come back after lunch."

"Promise?"

"Promise, a know ye jus' cannae wait tae get yer hands on a book."

"Then what are we waiting for, let's go have lunch."

If she were able to walk, Oliver imagined that she would be skipping through the manor and singing to herself, and he shook his head at the thought.

"So, what do ye fancy?" he asked her, helping her back towards the grand staircase, before picking her up and carrying her up the stairs. She didn't protest this time, in fact, he suspected she wanted get lunch over and done with so she could return to the library as soon as possible.

"Anything, I'm not a fussy eater, but as long as it's quick to make."

"Ye jus' want tae get back tae the library," he snorted.

"It'll take me at least an hour just to look over the titles of the books before I can even choose one to read," she argued.

"What would ye do if a warded the door shut?" he asked amused.

"I'm your new roommate; I can make your life very difficult."