CHAPTER THIRTEEN
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.
Page count: 11
Wood Estate – Wednesday 3rd December 1998
"What are ye planning tae do taday?" Oliver asked her, taking a sip from his tea and watching as Hermione mimicked his actions.
"I'm not sure, Thomas has, thankfully, finally released me from house arrest," she sighed and he chuckled. "I might do some research and visit Lee and Terry, Lee works at the twins' shop part-time, but he finishes at twelve on Wednesdays, and Terry doesn't work Wednesdays. It's been a while since I last saw them, and I can't keep putting Lee off. I've already received three owls from him asking why I cancelled our plans."
"Do ye think yer body can take it?" he asked.
She took another sip of the hot liquid and nodded. "Yes, I'm still a little slow on my feet, but I'm finally walking again, and hopefully I'll be right as rain in a few days."
"Won't Lee ask ye why yer walkin' funny?"
"Probably, I'll just tell him I fell over, he'd believe it. Merlin's tripped me over plenty of times in the past, and I'll stick to the story of having the muggle flu as to why I've been avoiding everyone."
"Will ye be alright?" he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.
"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked confused.
"Ye havnae left here in a week, an' ye were here a few days befere tha'."
"I'll be fine," she waved him off. "It's you that you should be worrying about. I'm getting annoyed at having to heal you every five minutes, sooner or later I'll be turning up to the stadium and having words with the useless healer your team seems to employ." He snorted. "And don't even get me started on your team mates, if I ever meet them, you can be damn well sure they'll be getting an earful from me, especially your beaters."
"Tha' a cannae wait tae see," he replied amused. His wand buzzed on the table, alerting him that it was time to leave for the stadium.
"Your lunch is on the side," Hermione commented, picking up a slice of toast from her plate and nibbling at it. "Chicken salad, pumpkin juice, a cauldron cake and on orange."
He blinked. He didn't think he'd ever get use to her making lunch for him. He smiled his thanks and stood to retrieve the brown paper bag from the side.
"Have a good day, Knight!" she called after him and he felt an amused smile pull at his mouth.
"Don' get in any trouble, Damsel," he called over his shoulder.
"I don't go looking for it, it just finds me!" she huffed.
He snorted. "A'll see ye when a get home."
There was something oddly domestic about their friendship, he noted, as he threw the floo powder into the grate and stepped into the fireplace.
Hermione had made her way to her favourite room in the manor and found the book she had been reading the previous night, Achievements in Charming, opening it up to the bookmarked page. She'd only been reading give or take an hour, when a large eagle swopped in through the only open window in the room, landing on the coffee table in front of her and sticking its leg out to her with a haughty look on its face.
Hermione rolled her eyes; she knew of only one person that possessed such an animal as a familiar, which meant she was soon going to be suffering from a headache. Hermione glared at the bird when it tried to bite her finger as she removed the rolled up parchment from its leg.
"You're just as snippy as he is, honestly, you're a match made in heaven you little monster," she griped at the bird. The large eagle gave a squawk of indignation before flapping its large wings and flying off.
Hermione scoffed at the bird before unrolling the parchment, her eyes quickly scanned the words it contained before she rolled her eyes.
She slipped the parchment into her book, bookmarking her place, before standing and making her way out of the library, up the grand staircase and to her bedroom. She slipped on a pair of black leather boots and pulled her rain coat from the wardrobe, slipping it on over her shirt and jeans.
She slipped her wand into her pocket and then pulled her medical bag out from her beaded bag and slipped them into her pocket once she'd shrunken it down and she made her way to the living room.
"Bobby," Hermione called softly, smiling when the little elf appeared before her and bowed.
"Miss," he greeted.
"Hello, Bobby, I hope you've had a lovely morning."
"Yes, Miss," he replied, his cheeks growing darker with his blush.
"That's wonderful. I'm just letting you know that I must attend to one of my patients and will be leaving the manor, after which I will be visiting with my friends. I am unsure of the time I will be back, but I should return before Oliver. I will be leaving Merlin behind today, would mind being a dear and keeping an eye on him for me?"
"Of course, Miss, Bobby likes the small bear."
Hermione laughed. "I'm sure he likes you too," she replied. "He's currently sleeping in my bedroom, now I better head off, I shall see you later."
She turned and made her way over to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder into her fist, being grateful that Oliver had added her to the wards a few days prior. It would make coming and going a lot easier.
Malfoy Manor
Hermione stepped out of the floo and dusted herself down, her hearing picking up on footsteps slowly approaching. She looked up and she felt a smile pull at her face, an answering smile greeting her.
"Hermione, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Narcissa Malfoy asked her, pulling her into a gentle hug and kissing her on the cheek in greeting.
She pulled back from her and Hermione couldn't help but be flawed by the beauty of the woman stood before her. She was shorter than her, but her raven black hair and pale skin always made her stand out from the crowd. She wore robes of the finest quality and in a soft purple with matching boots hidden beneath the fabric. Her hair was pulled back from her face and tied neatly in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. The smallest amount of makeup was applied to her face, mascara and a little blush.
"I received on owl requesting my healing services," she replied with a roll of her eyes.
Narcissa sighed. "I'm sorry, Dear, we both know he can be a little dramatic."
Hermione snorted; that was an understatement. "So what am I dealing with?"
"You would not believe me if I told you."
"Somehow I doubt that," Hermione said and Narcissa chuckled at her.
"He's in the sun room," she said, before gently hooking her arm through Hermione's and leading her through Malfoy Manor, making sure to completely avoid going anywhere near the drawing room.
Hermione and Narcissa chatted casually until they reached their destination and despite being there many times before, she couldn't help the way her eyes swept over the large room consisting of plush furniture, expensive rugs and a large coffee table. Priceless works of art hung about the room along with a vase or two on display. The doors leading out into the garden were open and Hermione could hear grumbling coming from that direction.
"It's about bloody time, Granger," Draco Malfoy scowled as he all but stormed into the room.
She had long ago admitted to herself that Draco Malfoy had grown remarkably over the years, and now he was quite handsome. His signature platinum blonde hair no longer slicked back, but now had been left to grow and tendrils fell over his forehead. His tall frame was covered with a pair of black trousers and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His pale skin would look unhealthy on anyone else but him and his chiselled jaw and straight nose showed his pedigree breeding. His ice-blue eyes were currently glaring daggers at her.
"Hello, Draco, it's lovely to see you too. I've been well, thank you for asking, and yourself?" she spoke, causing Narcissa to laugh lightly from beside her.
"She is right, Darling, where are your manners?" she said to her son.
He narrowed his eyes on Hermione as she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Hello, Granger, I'm glad to hear you've been well, as have I. Now bloody well heal me," he grouched.
Hermione scoffed. "Charming, now I see what all the witches see in you."
"They find me irresistible," he sniffed.
"Annoying, I think the word you were looking for is annoying," she snorted.
Narcissa shook her head at the two teenagers, once enemies in school and later on opposite sides of the war, but now friends. Sometimes. Narcissa excused herself to grab a pot of tea from the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.
"Right, what ridiculous ailment am I dealing with today?" she asked him.
"It's not ridiculous," he denied, before holding his hand out to her and stuffing the other into his pocket.
Hermione moved closer to him to examine his hand and when she saw what he wanted her to heal, she couldn't help herself, she burst out laughing.
"Oh, Merlin. You have got to be kidding me," she laughed.
"It's not funny, Granger!" he growled, only making her laugh harder.
"I can't believe you called me all the way over here for this. I could've had another patient that needed my attention, a patient with a legitimate need for my healing services."
"This is legitimate!" he protested. "And I pay you to heal me, so heal me. It hurts!" he whined.
She sniggered and rolled her eyes, but she did remove her medical bag from her pocket and resized it, digging through it until she found a pair of tweezers. She took Draco's hand in hers and quickly made work of removing the stinger embedded in his skin, making sure to nudge it out rather than pulling. She cleaned the wound and then applied some Numbing Cream to the small red area and placed a small bandage around his hand.
"There, all better," she said amused, patting his hand and making work of vanishing any leftover bandage and putting her things back in the bag.
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?" he said.
"You're the biggest baby I've ever met," she snorted, making her way over to one of the couches and sitting down on the comfortable cushion.
"I am not!" he said, making his way over to the couch opposite her and standing there, staring down at her.
"Are too," she argued. "I've healed a nine year old who sliced his head open and he didn't complain nowhere near as much as you."
"I am not a baby!"
"You are currently throwing a tantrum like a three year old."
"I am not!" he seethed, stomping his foot and accidentally kicking the leg of the coffee table. Hermione burst into laughter when he groaned and flopped onto the couch, holding his injured foot in his hand and glaring at her.
"I'm not healing you."
"Hermione, Dear, I believe Draco has learnt his lesson," Narcissa spoke, entering into the sun room with a tray levitating behind her.
As she took a seat beside Hermione on the couch, the tray was placed on the coffee table. Hermione smiled when she noticed the biscuit selection; her favourite, chocolate.
Hermione took the tea cup and saucer from Narcissa and sipped at the hot liquid, prepared perfectly by the house-elves as always. They chatted happily with Draco sending scowls her way.
"I almost forgot," Narcissa spoke. "Bubbles," she called, and the little elf appeared before them, bowing and greeting each of them in turn. "Please fetch the item from my wardrobe."
"Yes, Mistress," he said, popping out of the room and returning with a fairly large box, only to disappear once more.
Narcissa handed the large white box to Hermione and she took it confused, removing the lid when she was instructed to do so. Hermione felt a gasp leave her lips when the beautiful gown came into her view. She lifted her eyes to look at Narcissa questioningly.
"The Christmas Eve ball," she reminded Hermione. "You had initially declined our invitation, now you have a gown to wear and for you to decline once more, knowing that we gifted you the gown, would be disrespectful."
"That's emotional blackmail," Hermione scowled.
"That's my mother," Draco replied, the scowl gone from his face and replaced by a smirk. She glared at him.
There was no way for her to get out of this and she knew it.
"Fine," she seethed.
"Oh wonderful," Narcissa chimed. "You are going to look lovely in your gown."
"I doubt anyone could compare to you," Hermione replied.
"You're too kind," she said with a smile.
Hermione looked at the dress once more. It really was beautiful, she didn't know if she could pull it off but she would try. It was after all, a Malfoy party, at least she wouldn't be bored like she had been at The Ministry Ball in September. Her fingers moved over the soft fabric, imagining herself wearing it, dancing in it. And then a thought entered her mind.
"Is the invitation for a plus one still open?" she asked Narcissa.
"Of course, do you wish to bring Lee, one of The Weasley bunch?"
"No," she replied, earning raised eyebrows from both Mother and son.
"Ah, I see she has finally gotten her way," a voice spoke up from the entrance way. Hermione turned to see Lucius Malfoy walk into the room, placing a kiss to his wife's cheek as he past her before taking a seat beside Draco.
Lucius Malfoy looked far better than he had in previous years. His platinum hair as long as ever and tied back at the nape of his neck with a silk ribbon. His robes perfectly pressed and his shirt blinding white beneath it. He no longer carried a cane, thank Merlin, but the Malfoy signet ring sat proudly on his finger. His pale skin no longer looked sickly, cheeks hollow and his eyes haunted. He and Draco were so much alike she would swear that if she didn't know any better they could pass for twins.
"I am not surprised," Hermione replied, moving the large box onto the floor beside her feet. "How are you, Lucius?"
"Much better, thank you. My knees aren't what they used to be, but since you've been tending to me, I'm doing well."
She smiled. "You're following your medication regime?"
"I am making sure of it," Narcissa piped up, making Hermione chuckle.
"And I trust you are sticking to the diet."
"Of course, My Dear," he replied.
"I saw you sneak down to the kitchens last night, you ate the last of the cheesecake," Draco spoke, earning a glare from his father.
"Lucius!" Two outraged women scolded.
Diagon Alley
Hermione stepped out of the floo in The Leaky Cauldron and wasted no time in heading out into the alley, wanting to get out of the rain and to Lee and Terry's flat as soon as possible.
Hermione would've floo'd if they had their fireplace connected to the network, but despite them living together for a few months, they were too lazy to do so, meaning Hermione had to do the twenty minute walk until she reached the alleys that housed witches and wizards. Their flat was in the opposite direction to her old one.
She looked up at the grey sky with a less than pleased look on her face, before pulling her hood up and fastening her coat and stepping out into the rain and into the bustling crowd.
Hermione had one purpose and one purpose only, to get to Lee and Terry's flat, yet when she was in the crowd of people, she had barely taken a few steps before she was being jostled and pushed into, people bumping into her with their shopping bags and bodies and being pushed into others. Something inside of her mind snapped and she was routed to the spot. She couldn't move, her feet heavy and uncooperative. Her head was spinning, her body shaking, her breathing was coming out in short pants and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and clenched her hands into fists.
An image ran through her mind. An image from that night.
Her chest was tightening and she was feeling dizzy. She knew the symptoms well. She was on the verge of having a panic attack.
She moved her hand into her pocket, a feeling of safety washing over when her fingers wrapped around her wand. She forced her eyes to open and with great effort, she was able to take a step forward, then another. She was darting through the crowd as quickly as she could and she ducked into the first alley way she came across, moving into the corner and crouching down, making herself as small as possible, making herself invisible to passersby.
With a shaking hand she lifted her wand and struggled to focus. There was only one person she trusted.
Puddlemere Stadium
Oliver growled in annoyance, barely dodging the bludger before it smacked into his shoulder. What were they playing at? It was the beaters responsibility to keep the bludgers away from him and the others. There were two beaters and two bludgers. How did they both miss the one that almost hit him?
"Kings! Wilks! A swear tae Merlin himself, if ye allow one more bludger tae get past ye, a will make yer lives a living hell!" Oliver bellowed, his voice carrying in the wind.
"I don't think that's possible," Wilks muttered, pulling up beside Kings, Pallie and Thompson.
"He's already kicking our arses with these drills he's got us doing," Kings said.
"To be fair, Mate, you should've spotted that bludger from a mile away, I saw where it was heading from the other side of the pitch," Thompson shrugged.
"Shut it, no one asked for your opinion," Wilks glared.
"Well, I suggest you all scatter, Wood looks to be plotting your deaths," Pallie spoke, before flying off and leaving the gathered group.
Oliver sighed and lifted his hand from his broom, wiping the water from the rain off his gloves and onto his bottoms before gripping his broom tightly. He couldn't risk it, not with the current weather and it didn't look to be letting up, the sky the same dark grey it had been for the last three days. He pushed his wet hair away from his face and narrowed his eyes, seeing Malloy almost crash into the coach's box.
Why was his team filled with idiots? Was it the end of practice yet? He sighed once more, knowing it wasn't. They'd barely been in the air an hour after returning from their lunch break. He sighed. Four hours to go.
From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a strange coloured mist and he turned his head, seeing that it was quickly make its way over to him. He frowned in confusion when it stopped before him, the blue-grey smoke morphing into the small form of an...
"Otter?" he said aloud, not realising he'd done so and he stared at it in confusion. It suddenly clicked into place, he was seeing a patronus.
The otter opened it mouth and a shaky and frightened voice spilled from its lips.
"Oliver... Diagon Alley... I need help... Please..."
Oliver felt his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning so fast he had to grip his broom to stop him from falling off. He knew that voice anywhere. He forced himself to breathe before he flew away from the hoops, allowing Pallie to score, but for the first time in his life, he didn't care.
He quickly dismounted his broom in the coach's box too see Coach Burton looking up from his clipboard with a frown on his face, clearly sensing that something was wrong. Oliver was always the first in the air and the last one down. He never left the pitch for practice, not even if he was busting for the toilet.
"A need tae go," Oliver rushed out, barely restraining himself from just leaving without informing anyone and risking disciplinary action.
"Your Mother? Father?" he questioned.
"Honestly?" Coach nodded. "Naw, it's not, but a need tae go, a cannae tell ye why."
Coach Burton eyed him, seeing his jittery behaviour and the look of worry on his face. Something was wrong. He nodded towards the door and Oliver rushed out a 'thanks' before running up the stands, through the building and ignoring the strange looks he received from the employees mulling around.
He didn't stop running until he reached the fireplace and floo'd to The Leaky Cauldron.
Diagon Alley
Oliver stepped out of the floo and quickly made his way out of the pub and he stood on the step, looking around the bustling crowd, his eyes searching for Hermione. He didn't know where she was, how was he supposed to find her? Hell, he didn't even know what was wrong.
As if someone was answering his prays, the little misty otter appeared before him and then disappeared down the alley. Oliver quickly realising that it was leading him to Hermione, chased after it, pushing his way through the busy crowds and receiving more than one look. He supposed he looked strange. Oliver Wood, running down Diagon Alley, wearing his Quidditch practice robes and his protective gear and carrying his broom, whilst chasing after a floating blue otter. That wasn't strange at all.
He almost ran past the alley way but stopped when he saw the blue mist offering a little bit of light in the dark of the alley. He pulled his wand and quickly made his way down the alley, his eyes scanning the small pathway for any potential threats, but found none, but he did find Hermione.
She was curled into herself and huddled in the corner, making herself as small as possible. He could see her shoulders shaking and as he neared, he became aware of her hands shaking too, as well as the sounds of her sobs.
"Hermione," he said softly.
Her head snapped up after hearing his voice and he felt his heart break when her frightened gaze locked onto his. Before he could blink, she was on her feet and had wrapped herself around him, clinging to him tightly as she sobbed into his practice robes.
"What happened? Are ye hurt?" he asked worriedly, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her shake her head against him.
"Take me home," she sniffled.
Oliver would be lying if he didn't admit that he liked those words coming from her. He shook his head and cleared his throat.
"Hold on tight," he said softly, and with Hermione wrapped around, his broom held in his hand and his wand in the other, he spun on his heel, apparating them both into the manor living room.
Wood Manor
Oliver carelessly dropped his broom to the floor and caught Hermione as she fell to the ground, landing on her knees. He lifted her into his arms and quickly made his way to her bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot and Merlin was nowhere to be seen, meaning he was probably wandering around somewhere.
He placed Hermione down on the bed and he had to literally pry her off of him since she wouldn't let go.
"Hermione, we need tae take yer coat aff an' get ye dry," he said softly.
She must've registered his words since she let go of him, removed her coat and boots and left them in a pile on the floor. Oliver cast Drying and Warming Charms over the both of them, before he removed his gloves and pads and put them on the arm chair. He made his way back over to the bed and sat on the edge and Hermione moved closer to him, automatically leaning her head on his shoulder and moving to hold his hand in hers. He gave her a comforting squeeze.
"What happened?" he asked gently.
She took a deep breath and although her sobs had stopped, tears continued to fall down her face.
"One of my patients required my healing services, even if it was for a ridiculous reason," she said, her eyes closed and her mouth tugging at the corners. "They wanted me to remove a bloody bee sting from their hand." Oliver snorted. "Since it was after lunch I decided to visit Lee and Terry and I floo'd to Diagon Alley. I was fine until I got swept up in the crowd. All those people surrounding me, trapping me, caging me in, touching and pushing into me. I felt helpless. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My head was dizzy and my chest hurt. Before I could pass out I forced myself to move until I found the alley way. I remember."
"Remember?" he questioned confused.
"From that night, I remember something," she clarified. His body tensed beside her and he held his breath, waiting for her to explain. "With all those people touching me and being pushed and shoved, it brought back something."
"What?" he said quietly, squeezing her hand in encouragement.
She was quiet for a moment. "There were three of them," she whispered. "They came out of nowhere, they caged me in and grabbed me so I couldn't get away. I didn't have time to use my wand, and Merlin, he'd already been hurt. And I remember something else. Their eyes. I know the colour of their eyes," she spoke, a haunted tone to her voice.
"Bobby," Oliver called and he appeared immediately. "Please fetch Minister Shacklebolt and inform him that Hermione remembers, he'll know what it means."
"Master," he bowed, disappearing from view and returning minutes later with The Minister and the head auror.
Hermione was staring off into space despite them both being stood in front of her, and seeming to understand they weren't going to get answers from her, they both turned to Oliver.
"She remembers?" The Minister asked, sounding hopeful whilst looking at Hermione sadly.
Oliver nodded. "She said she remembers somethin'. She was in Diagon Alley when her memory was triggered by the crowd. She said there was definitely three af them. They caged her in so she couldn't escape an' Merlin had been hurt."
"That's more than we initially thought," the head auror frowned.
Oliver frowned in thought. "Her stalker, what if he's not working alone? What if there's more than one af them an' this is why there was more than one attacker. Stalker's tend tae be possessive, they wouldn't share the object af their obsession with jus' anyone."
"He's right," the head auror agreed. "It's more than likely her attackers are her stalkers and they're working together."
"It's easier to find a group of people than it is to find a single individual, one of them is bound to slip up and when they do, we'll know," The Minister said.
"She said she remembers somethin' else," Oliver said.
"What?" they asked together.
"The colour af their eyes," he answered. "But she never told mae."
The Minister kneeled down in front of Hermione and did his best to gain her attention, he did everything short of touching her, not wanting to startle her, and it didn't work.
"Hermione, can ye tell mae their eye colour?" Oliver asked her quietly.
Just when he thought she had gone into a catatonic state, she thankfully answered him.
"Blue with green flecks. Hazel with flecks of amber. Dark brown, almost black," she whispered.
"Well done," The Minister said to Oliver, clapping him on the shoulder and quickly leaving with Jolkins following behind him, needing to update their files.
Oliver sat next to her in silence for what felt like hours. He needed to use the bathroom and so he removed his hand from hers and stood to leave, but as he took a step forward, Hermione's hand flew out and caught his hand.
He looked down at her, seeing her looking up at him with eyes filled with so much vulnerability, so much sadness and hurt that it almost felt wrong to look at her.
"Please don't leave me," she whispered.
He nodded and she let go of his hand and shuffled onto the bed, laying down. Oliver moved back onto the bed, laying down next to her and staring up at the ceiling with a arm resting behind his head. Much to his surprise, Hermione shuffled closer to him and lifted her head to rest against his shoulder, burrowing into him and searching for warmth and comfort. He removed his arm from behind his head and wrapped it around her shoulder, rubbing his hand over her arm.
"Please don't leave me," she whispered.
"A won't," he promised, feeling the way her hands gripped onto his practice robes and her shoulders started shaking as she sobbed into him. "A won't."