CHAPTER TWENTY
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 - Tuesday 22nd December 1998
Hermione and Oliver had long since parted ways and gone to their separate rooms to get some sleep, but at two o'clock in the morning, sleep was still evading her. She tossed and turned, she beat the pillows, she cocooned herself in the blanket, she threw the blanket off her, she closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, she snuggled with Merlin and she tried counting dragons. But it was all for nothing as after almost three hours of retiring to bed, Hermione still couldn't sleep.
She felt tired, exhausted really, but after so long of trying and unable to sleep, Hermione climbed out of bed with a huff and stalked over to the arm chair that sat in the corner of her room. She made herself comfortable and conjured her signature blue-bell flames for lighting so she could read through her books.
As soon as she'd learned of Oliver's Mother's diagnosis of cancer, she wanted to help him as much as she could. He'd done so much for her, without thought and without complaint that she had basically took over her life, that helping his Mother was the least she could do. She didn't know if the chemotherapy would be effective, but Hermione was determined to not give up, even if all potential treatment options had run out. If she bloody well had to, she'd create a bloody cure herself. She wasn't going to let Oliver or his Mother down.
She knew what it was like to lose a parent; she'd been a complete emotional wreck when she'd wiped her parents' minds and sent them away for their protection. She may not have lost them in the sense that they had died, but they may as well have. They hadn't known who she was until she'd turned up at their door and reversed the effects of the memory alterations she'd done. And afterwards, it had taken her parents months before they could properly trust her again, and that had hurt Hermione all the more.
When she'd learned of his heartbreaking secret, she'd borrowed his owl and wrote to her parents, asking them to collect and send as many books, research papers and journals as they could find on every type and form of cancer, asking them to send them back with Winston as soon as possible. Wilson arrived not even a day later and since then, Hermione spent as much of her time as she could reading through the resources, hoping something would be of use to Oliver's Mother.
She not only wanted to help his Mother because of Oliver, because she truly did care for him, but because any woman that could raise such a kind, generous man was needed in the world. If she could influence others the way she had influenced Oliver, the world would be a much better place. She hadn't met the woman, but Hermione got the feeling that she was a little like Mrs. Weasley. Not in the sense that she would fatten you up with her home cooked meals as soon as you walked through the door, seeing as she knew from Oliver that his Mother never cooked as they had house-elves growing up. But in the sense that she loved her son and she'd raised him to be a wonderful wizard. That she'd put him first before all else and that she only wanted what was best for him.
She wondered what his Mother was like. Was she pushy in the way Mrs. Weasley could be? Was she as beautiful as Oliver was handsome? She wondered where Oliver got his looks from, was it his Mother or his Father, or was it a mixture of both?
Were his puppy dog brown eyes inherited from his Mother, his long eyelashes his Father? Did he get his love of Quidditch from his Father, or his kindness from his Mother? Was his infectious laugh from his Father, or the shape of his mouth his Mother's?
She found her thoughts to wandering to his mouth, thinking about the dazzling smile he gave that sometimes took her by surprise and made her head fuzzy. She thought about his red-pink lips that looked softer than any man's ought to be. She found herself thinking if he was as good a kisser as he was at Quidditch.
She immediately shook her head free from those thoughts with a frown on her face, before she forced herself to focus on the words in front of her.
When Oliver woke and dressed for the day of going to a Muggle hospital for his Mother's first round of chemotherapy, he felt himself grow anxious. The doctor had explained everything to him and his Mother, and despite knowing what he could or should expect, he still felt anxious. He hadn't slept much, spending most of the night tossing and turning and worrying about his Mother. The only comfort he took was that Hermione would be going with him.
She had experienced a similar situation with her Grandmother having had cancer and he reminded himself to be optimistic, after all, her Grandmother has survived and beat cancer, so maybe his Mother could too. Between muggle and magical healing, his Mother had the best chance possible of beating the cancer and getting back to her regular self.
He scrubbed his hand over his face, his eyes so tired they stung and felt heavy. He almost stumbled into the corner suite when his eyes closed for longer than they should have and he growled in annoyance, pushing his damp hair back from his face. As he stumbled into the kitchen, he felt his restlessness fade into calmness and he took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of freshly baked cookies.
He felt a smile pulling at his mouth and he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the sight of Hermione with her back to him, pottering about the kitchen as she absentmindedly hummed to herself. It was a tune he didn't recognise, so he assumed it was of muggle origin. What surprised him was not that she was in the kitchen before him, but that she was still wearing her pyjamas. A white short sleeved t-shirt, a pair of black cotton shorts that showed off her soft looking skin and her long legs, a pink apron protected her clothing and was decorated in little cupcakes, and a pair of white ankle socks were protecting her feet from the cold floor.
Unknown to Oliver, Hermione had been unable to sleep too and after a few hours or going through her research material, she'd needed a break and there was only one thing that would calm her. She hadn't done any baking in months and especially since her attack and moving in with Oliver. She missed the calmness it brought her. Some people liked to fly, some liked to listen to music, some liked to take walks, but she liked to bake and she had done since she was a small child, making her first birthday cake with her Mother for her Father. Granted, it had been barely edible and looked a complete mess, but she'd fallen in love with baking from that point on.
When she was unable to take any more of her reading, she'd immediately left the bedroom and quietly made her way to the kitchen. She'd lit the room with her blue-bell flames and summoned her favourite apron, slipping it on and tying it behind her back. With a flick of her wand she summoned all the ingredients and tools she needed before pre-heating two of the ovens to the correct temperature.
She made chocolate chip cookies and she had long since memorised the recipe, it coming from her Grandmother who had passed it onto her Mother, who then passed it onto her. She put the ingredients into a mixing bowl with practiced ease and hummed to herself as she mixed the dough.
By the time she'd placed the cookies onto baking trays and slipped them into the oven, she had the dishes washing themselves and moved onto making a batch of brownies. She knew she'd made far too much for anyone to eat, but once she started baking and she got lost in her favourite hobby, it was hard for her to stop. And for that reason she had made a batch of vanilla cupcakes too, starting as the first rays of sunlight made itself known through the windows.
She cancelled her blue-bell flames no longer needing the lighting before ensuring that the cookies and brownies had properly cooled and then she separated them into different tupperware tubs. With the amount she'd made, there were more than enough to send some to Harry, the twins and Lee and Terry, knowing that they loved her cookies and had been begging her to bake them some for months know.
As she iced the cupcakes with butter cream, quietly humming to herself and keeping her attention focused on making sure the swirls on the iced cupcakes were perfect; she didn't notice Oliver watching her.
She almost jumped out of her skin when he appeared beside her, peering down at the cupcakes that she hadn't yet iced, the cupcakes that she had and the plate of remaining cookies and brownies.
"You scared the hell out of me," she huffed at him, before picking up another cupcake and icing it, noticing that Oliver was watching her meticulous movements with intrigue.
"Sorry," he replied. "A thought ye would've heard mae. Are ye alright?" he asked her once he gotten a glimpse of her face. She looked as tired as he felt.
"What's the definition of alright?" she shrugged.
"Hoo much sleep did ye get? Hoo long have ye been doin' this?" he asked, noticing the amount of baked goods that littered the counter as well as the ones in the tubs.
"I got enough," she lied, when in reality she hadn't yet been to sleep. "I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd do some baking. I haven't baked for months and I've missed doing so. Besides, with all the cooking you've been doing, I thought it about time I pull my weight around here and provide the snacks and desserts."
He snorted. "Yer've more than made up fer it," he said amused, eyeing the baked goods pointedly.
She shrugged. "I like baking, it's calming. Once I start I get lost in what I'm doing, much like I do with my reading. I couldn't stop myself, so I hope you like cookies, brownies and cupcakes."
"If they smell as good as they taste, a'm sure a'll be badgering ye tae make them fer me more often," he said.
"I'd bake you anything you asked me to. If there's anything that you fancy just let me know and I'll get right on it. It's only fair given the amount of times I've all but begged you to make chicken pie."
He chuckled at her and shook his head.
"So, how'd you sleep? Alright?"
"What's yer definition af alright?" he replied with her own words.
She lifted her eyes from the cupcake and up to him, seeing that he looked as tired as she felt. She frowned and placed the cupcake off to the side and she put down the piping bag before turning to face him. She took his face in her hands and he was unable to do anything but look at her.
"You didn't sleep," she stated, biting her lip and his eyes darted to watch the gesture. "What's up?"
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "A'm jus' worried," he admitted.
He saw no point in lying to her; she'd see right through him, she always did. She was one of the only people who seemed to understand him based on body language and facial expressions alone. She seemed to know what he was thinking before he'd even voiced it.
"It's me Ma's first treatment an' anno what the doctor said, but a still cannae help worry. We don' know hoo this will affect her or if it will affect her at all. We're using muggle treatments on a magical witch, her magic might render the equipment useless."
"I've planned for that, don't worry. I'm going to be with you every step of the way. Do you know what you're going to tell your Mum about my presence being there?"
"If she asks, which she probably will, a thought aboot telling her the trurth, if that's alright with ye. A canne lie tae her, she'd know an' see right through it. Af course a won't tell her ev'rything, jus' tha' ye are me source an' ye put us in contact with the doctor."
"That's fine with me, I hate that you have to lie for me," she sighed, removing her hands from his face and retuning her attention back to her cupcakes.
"A'd do a'thing a had tae in order tae protect ye, an' if tha' means lying fer yer safety, then so be it," he told her honestly, lifting to rest a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle squeeze.
She felt heat flood her cheeks and she'd be lying if she said his words didn't make her stomach flutter and her heart to skip a beat. She took a steady breath before looking up at him, seeing that he was staring at her, his eyes were warm and soft, but his face unreadable.
Then she spotted a smudge of butter cream on his cheek which had transferred from her hands and she laughed at him, reaching up to wipe it away from his cheek with her thumb and wiping it off on her apron. Oliver's head moved slightly, as if not wanting her touch to leave his skin and feeling the loss.
"Right come on then, let's have breakfast. If you make the tea, I'll make pancakes."
He kept his eyes on her and she turned away from him, icing the final cupcake and putting it off to the side and his eyes darted to her mouth as she sucked a bit of icing off her finger, before flicking her wand and sending the remaining dishes to clean themselves in the sink.
She moved away from him and went about making pancakes for their breakfast. He kept his eyes on her for a little while longer until she looked over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and he turned and started preparing tea.
They sat in a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast and afterwards, Hermione told Oliver she'd meet him at the hospital since he would be escorting his Mother. He nodded and she left him to ready for the day. She had a little time so she took her time showering and drying off, almost falling asleep in the shower in the process.
She dressed in blue skinny jeans, black knee length leather boots and a black v-neck woollen jumper. She slipped on her white pea coat and then summoned her medical bag before shrinking it down and slipping it into her pocket.
Before leaving for the hospital Hermione called for Bobby, letting him know that both she and Oliver wouldn't be back until sometime after lunch and she asked if he'd keep an eye on Merlin, which he happily agreed to. Hermione had seen Bobby bonding with Merlin in a way a witch or wizard did to their familiar, which she thought was adorable, and she knew Merlin was just as fond of Bobby. If he weren't with her or Oliver, he was more than likely to be following Bobby around as he did his chores.
Merlin bounded into the room at the sound of Bobby's voice and he barked and wagged his tail. Hermione laughed before saying her goodbyes and then leaving the manor.
Muggle London – Hospital
It didn't take Hermione long to find her way to the correct ward and it took even shorter of a time to find the correct room. She'd made sure that Mrs. Wood would have a room to herself, allowing her some privacy and lessening her fears of accidentally revealing the existence of magic to others.
The room was like any normal hospital room with the bed and medical equipment, and the smell of cleanliness and death, except there was a comfortable looking arm chair in the centre of the room along with everything that was needed for the chemotherapy treatment. A small table was beside the arm chair and upon it sat a variety of magazines, a jug of water and several plastic cups.
Hermione closed the door behind her before making quick work of casting warding spells around all the equipment in the room so it couldn't react badly to the magic of the magical folk that would soon be filling the room.
As she slipped her wand up her sleeve, the door opened and she jumped in surprise when a nurse entered the room, eyeing her strangely.
"Moral support," Hermione gave the older woman with greying hair a small smile.
The nurse didn't reply but she did walk over to the equipment and seemed to be checking it over and no sooner had she finished, both Oliver and his Mother entered through the door and into the room.
Oliver's eyes locked onto her instantly and she noticed the way his entire body seemed to relax at seeing her there. Had he expected her to change her mind? 'As if,' she thought with a snort.
Her eyes then moved the woman who's arm was hooked around Oliver's and she came face to face with Bethany Wood for the first time. And like Hermione had thought she would be, she beautiful, but it wasn't striking or dark, it was a soft kind of beautiful, and she quickly became away that Oliver did not get his hair colour or eyes from his Mother, but rather his Father.
Bethany Wood had shoulder length blonde hair that was left down and tucked behind her ears. There were shots of grey streaking through the strands showing that she was getting on in age. Her hair looked thinner than she thought it would be, but she wasn't sure if that was down to her age or the cancer. Her eyes were a lovely blue colour, like the blue you'd see on a sunny, cloudless day. Her eyes looked sunken and her wrists frail, like she hadn't been eating properly. She had a small nose and thin red lips, with long eyelashes, and from what she could see, Oliver had inherited his Mother's eyelashes and mouth shape.
Where Oliver was tanned from spending so much time outdoors, his Mother was pale, but Hermione didn't know if that was her natural tone or if it was out of sickness. She was far smaller than her son too; she was even smaller than Hermione. Tiny really, standing at five-foot-one in height. She wore a woollen skirt and the matching jumper to keep her warm.
Hermione smiled at her kindly whilst her eyes widened and she spluttered in surprise, obviously recognising her. She turned her eyes to Oliver and he gave her a small smile, muttering under his breath that he'd explained later. His Mother seemed to pull herself together and she nodded and cleared her throat, her eyes turning look at Hermione in curiosity and they darted between her and Oliver.
Oliver led his Mother over to the arm chair and she took the seat and Oliver stepped back, allowing the nurse to do her job. He moved over to stand beside Hermione, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and his arm pressed against hers. She felt the tension drain from him at the contact.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't come?" she muttered, half listening to the nurse going over the process and the symptoms that could arise due to the treatment, but Hermione knew potions could deal with most of the symptoms.
"A dunno, a jus'..." he trailed off with a sigh.
"I told you I'd be with you every step of the way and I meant it," she said softly, giving him a gentle nudge with her shoulder and a smile pulled at his face. "And I've taken care of the magic affecting the equipment problem, we shouldn't have any issues."
They didn't have to wait long before the nurse started the treatment, alerting them that should they need anything they only had to pop their heads out the door and ask, before she left them to it.
Once the door closed, Hermione threw a Silencing Charm at it to prevent anyone from overhearing anything they shouldn't, before she conjured up two chairs and she and Oliver sat beside each other, not too close to his Mother, but not too far away either.
Hermione felt the eyes on her before she'd even sat down in her seat and made herself comfortable. She felt Oliver's shoulder press against her as he leaned closer to her in his seat, she was sure he didn't even know he was doing it. He had a worried look on his face and Hermione took his hand in hers, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He let out a little sigh and gripped onto her hand for dear life, but she didn't complain.
"So, a said a would explain," Oliver broke the silence and looking to his Mother.
"Aye, ye did, Son," his Mother said, her accent seemed to be thicker than Oliver's. "It was more than a wee surprise tae see The Hermione Granger standing in mae hospital room," she replied, her eyes sweeping between the two of them and searching for something, Hermione didn't know what.
"Well, ye know a said a had a source?" She nodded. "Well, me source is Hermione Granger."
His mother frowned slightly, eyeing the way they held hands as though it were a regular occurrence, and noticing the way Oliver was relaxed in Hermione's presence. Relaxed in a way she hadn't seen in a long time. He'd been very secretive lately and he'd avoided her as often as he could, and now she knew why. Her thoughts ran through her mind and they all led to one possibility and she found it hard to keep her smile from showing or from squealing loudly in excitement. She had been waiting years for Oliver to bring a witch home to meet her. She'd waited years for him to finally meet a witch he could settle down with. And if it was Hermione Granger, that was even better. Imagine having Hermione Granger as a daughter-in-law!
"A dinnae know ye knew Hermione Granger," she said calmly, but her lip twitched and she scolded herself.
Hermione gave a kind smile. "Well, we attended school together, though Oliver was a few years ahead of me. We've recently become friends when I saved Oliver from the clutches of a drunken woman in a club about a month ago."
His Mother raised an amused eyebrow when Oliver shrugged and gave her a sheepish look.
"As it turns out, Oliver was my saviour that night also," she said, her voice going quiet and a haunted look entered her eyes.
Beth watched the way Oliver leaned closer to Hermione to whisper in her ear, and when he pulled back she nodded, and her easy smile reappeared. There was more to the story and she knew it.
"And since then, we've become good friends."
'Friends indeed,' she thought amused. She saw right through them.
"When I learned of your condition and the lack of suitable treatment, I stepped in and offered a suitable solution. I'm not sure if you're aware, but I'm a private healer."
Beth nodded. "Aye, from what a heard, yer one af the best tae be seen in a long time. If the rumours are true, yer've a natural talent fer healing."
Hermione blushed and Oliver chuckled at her.
"Anyway, it's widely known of my Muggleborn status and due to the fact I was raised in the Muggle World, I know of muggle cancer, whereas most healers don't. When I was a child, my Grandmother had breast cancer. We were able to convince her to try the treatment and within a year, she was cancer free and completely healthy." Beth looked at her hopefully. "I can't guarantee that it'll work for you, but I can guarantee that it will give you the best possible chance, and combined with magical healing, we may just be able to beat this."
Hermione removed her hand from Oliver's and then stood from her chair and she removed her medical bag, as well as a tupperware tub from her pockets.
"Cookies and brownies, we need to keep your sugar levels up," she explained with a smile, depositing the tub onto the table. She then dug into her medical bag and pulled out an Anti-Nausea Potion, a Sleeping Draught and a Pepper-Up Potion.
She then retook her seat and Beth eyed them both before she settled back into her arm chair and picked up a magazine from the table, leafing through it in intrigue. Hermione dug into her medical bag and pulled out two potion vials, handing one to Oliver and she kept one for herself.
"Invigoration Draught, we're going to need it," she muttered. "I'm going to doze off if I don't take it and we both have to be at the stadium after this. It's even more dangerous for you."
He didn't argue with her and downed the potion the same time she did, both of them gagging at the taste, but they both felt energised almost immediately afterwards.
"So, are ye taking the job offer?" Oliver asked, seeing as she had mentioned needing to be at the stadium.
"I don't have choice, if I refuse the children aren't going to get the resources and education they deserve. What the bosses are offering is life changing to these children and I'd never forgive myself if I took those opportunities away from them. I want what's best for them and they're not going to get it if I don't agree to take up the position. Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, biting her lip.
"A don' mind," he promised. "Like a said, a'd feel a lot better knowing tha' ye would be the one tae heal mae an' the team. An' with ye as the healer, ye might be able tae use yer medical knowledge tae convince the team tae get new brooms."
She snorted and shook her head at him, as they settled back into their seats and fell into a comfortable silence, but half an hour later, Hermione excused herself to use the bathroom.
Oliver's eyes watched her leave the room, and his Mother watched him watch Hermione from over the top of her magazine, effectively hiding her smile.
"So, Oliver," she said lightly, drawing his attention and a suspicious look crossed his face. She bit back her chuckle; he knew her so well.
"What is it, Ma?" his tone was wary.
"Hoo long have ye an' the beautiful Hermione been dating?"
If Oliver had been eating or drinking, he'd have choked, as it was he was spluttering and his face was turning red as he struggled to breathe.
"Ma!" he half shouted, half whined.
"It's a simple question, Oliver," she said innocently. "One of which ye havnae answered yet. Hoo long have ye been dating?" she repeated.
"We're not dating, Ma," he sighed.
"But ye want tae date her," she said knowingly.
"Ma, we're jus' friends,"
"Maybe fer now, but a know ye, Oliver, a know ye like her an' ye wanna be more than friends."
"Ma, please,"
"A've been watching ye, the way ye look at her isnae as a friend but somethin' more. A've only seen ye tagether less than an hour an' a already know ye like her an' a've never seen ye look at someone the way ye were looking at her. And ye introduced mae tae her, yer've never brought a witch home befere."
"She's helping us get ye better, Ma."
"An' ye like her all the more fer it, maybe ye even love her."
"Ma," he protested.
She shrugged and lowered her magazine and sat it on her lap. "A know what a saw, Oliver, an' she was looking at ye jus' as ye were looking at her."
Oliver felt his head swimming with the news, but he pushed off his thoughts before they could take root.
"Anno there's somethin' ye not telling mae, yer've been very secretive lately an' a'm betting it has tae do with Hermione. A know there's more tae the story af ye reconciling, so what is it? What did she mean when she said ye saved her? A've never seen someone so scared."
"A cannae tell ye, Ma. They're not me secrets an' a promised a would keep her safe an a intend tae do tha', even if it means a have tae keep things from ye an' Da."
"Ye'll keep her safe from what? What's goin' on?"
"Naw offence, Ma, a love ye an' a'd never want tae disrespect ye, but some things aren't yer business. A need tae do ev'rythin' a can tae keep her safe."
She eyed him with a look he couldn't decipher.
"Ye love her, don' ye?"
"What?" he frowned. "Naw, she's me friend."
His Mother raised an eyebrow.
"She may be, have ye ever been in love?" she asked, despite knowing he hadn't, since he'd never had an actual girlfriend. Oliver was a very private person and no one had earned his trust enough to see beyond the Quidditch obsessed player people thought him to be. But she'd already seen the way Oliver had relaxed in Hermione's presence, she'd seen the way he looked at her, she'd seen the way he took comfort from her. And she just knew that there was more to their relationship than he wanted her to believe.
"Naw," he confirmed.
"Then hoo do ye know tha' yer not in love with her?" she questioned. "Loving yer parents an' family an' friends is different tae being in love with someone romantically. So if yer've never experienced tha', hoo do ye know that ye don' love her?"
Oliver frowned and opened his mouth as if to speak, when the door opened and Hermione stepped in carrying three cups of tea. Oliver cleared his throat when Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow, before handing him his tea and then placing his Mother's on the table beside her.
"I wasn't sure if you took milk or sugar, so I brought some back with me just in case," Hermione said with a smile, removing the milk and sugar packages from her pockets and placing them on the table.
"Thank ye, Dear," Beth said with a genuine smile.
"It's no problem, but I wouldn't have high standards, the tea in hospitals is rubbish. You should probably eat a cookie or two as well, just to keep your sugar levels up," Hermione said, before retaking her seat. "So, what have I missed?"
Puddlemere United Stadium
"Are you alright?" she asked Oliver as they made their way through the halls of the stadium and towards the pitch.
Once the chemotherapy session was over, Oliver took his Mother home and she returned to the manor, where she made a quick lunch for herself and Oliver. When Oliver had returned, he'd headed straight for his bedroom and came into the kitchen with his broom and wearing his practice robes. They'd sat for lunch and Hermione had noticed that Oliver had been quiet, especially since she'd returned to the hospital room after getting some tea and going to the bathroom.
"Aye," he sighed.
"Are you sure? You've been awfully quiet, that's not like you," she said softly, a worried look crossing her face.
He turned his head and looked down at her, his eyes sweeping over her face before a soft look entered his eyes.
"A'm fine, Damsel," he promised. "It's jus' been a long mornin' is all. When a got me Ma home the effects af the chemotherapy kicked in an' after taking yer potions she went tae bed, the house-elves are keeping an eye on her until me Da gets back tanight."
She eyed him carefully before slowly nodding.
As they made their way down the stands they realised that the team can't have finished their lunch break long ago as Coach Burton had them all gathered, until they noticed their arrival, several of the team eyeing Hermione and Oliver carefully since they had arrived together.
Hermione held out an envelope when she reached Coach Burton and he took it with a raised eyebrow.
"I could hardly refuse, could I?" she said, a little grumpily.
"That's why they were sure to offer you what they did," he shrugged. "They knew you wouldn't turn them down. So, I'll just get this lot sorted and then I'll show you to your office where you can get set up."
"Office?" Several voices chorused, looking between Hermione and Coach Burton confused.
"Yes, I'm the new healer for Puddlemere," she explained.
"Oh Thank Merlin," Bishop sighed. "At least now we'll be properly taken care of," he said, whilst Malloy, Pallie and Thompson nodded knowingly.
"Well, as my first order of business as your healer," she spoke, seeing the way they all looked at her and Coach looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'm ordering you all to get rid of your rubbish brooms and purchase newer, safer, and more reliable models."
"What?" they chorused in surprise.
"You heard me, you all need new brooms, the ones you're using are rubbish and the magic on them is fading, before you know it you'll be dead. I don't care how attached you are to them, and it's my job to ensure your good health. I'm good at what I do but even I can't heal the dead. So, purchase new brooms, healer's orders and if you don't, I'll put you on a no fly ban until you do."
They all just gawked at her whilst Oliver did his best to hide his smirk and Coach Burton just snorted at her.