CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Summary: Hermione suffers a terrible attack and who should find her but one of Wizarding Britain's most eligible bachelors. The relationship that builds between them is one no one saw coming, but no one predicted the danger that would surely follow. Post-War. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: I do not own canon events or characters, they belong to J.K Rowling. I am not making a profit from this fanfic, everything is purely for entertainment purposes.
AN:
I take it back. The previous chapter has gotten the best response and most reviews of any chapter so far. You guys continue to blow me away and I love it!
I didn't want it to happen too soon as I wanted them both to come to trust and care for each other naturally and to come to terms with it as realistically as possible. But now I think I've let this drag on long enough and I've made you wait long enough so it's finally time for the moment we've all been waiting for and the chapter I've been dying to write since the very beginning, and I hope it lives up to your expectations.
Another 10,000+ word chapter! How I spoil you so! But I gotta say, after two in row I don't think I have it in me to do it again. I'm bloody exhausted.
Just a reminder, this is Rated M!
Q&A
RESimon – I'm sorry to hear about your injury, I hope you're feeling better and I'm glad I was able to offer comfort with the previous chapter.
SnowflakeDazzle – Maybe you'll get your wish...
VioletBuckbeak – I had originally planned on splitting the previous chapter where Oliver met the witch at the bar and possibly write half a sex scene between them whilst he figured out what he'd done, but then I decided against it. And I did think about having Hermione turning up at the bar and seeing him with that other witch, but that idea was scrapped, too, and I'm quite happy with the decisions I've made as it's now led us to the moment we've been waiting for.
kailaighpuckett – Hermione's the Queen of Board Games, so I'll happily accept the title of Queen of Cliffhangers from you. I do so love to keep you all in suspense.
Page count: 21
Wood Manor - Saturday 30th January, 1999
Hermione had never been so surprised.
She didn't know where the courage to kiss Oliver had come from, to do the thing she'd been wanting to do for weeks. She didn't know if she was more surprised that she'd actually done it, or that Oliver barely let a second pass until he was responding to her.
So many confusing thoughts crossed her mind as Oliver's hold on her tightened and he pushed her into the side of the pool a little harder, but his arms cushioning her back from the sharp edge. But the moment he nipped at her lip and soothed the slight sting with a swipe of his tongue, she parted her lips for him and a sigh left her as his tongue met hers and she allowed herself to just get lost in him, the way she had on Christmas Eve.
Her hands wound up to his wet hair and tugged on the strands, a groan sounding from him and his hands slipped below the wet fabric of her pyjama shirt to rest gently on the small of her back. His touch did something to her. There was nothing inappropriate or arousing about it, except it still sent a zing of heat straight down to her core. It still had her stomach filling with that butterfly feeling. It still had her heart racing, heat coursing through her entire body and her very magic seeming to come to life.
His calloused fingers tickled at her skin and brought goose bumps forth, his heat surrounded her in the chill of the pool water and they were pressed together so tightly, she swore she could feel the hammering of his heart against her own.
This time the only reason she pulled away from him wasn't because she was startled, it was due to a lack of oxygen. Her breathing was heavier than usual and she kept her eyes closed, not feeling brave enough to see his reaction now that he'd had time to process what'd just happened between them, and it had been purely her fault.
God! She felt awful. She felt so guilty. How could she have done that to him? How could she have let her emotions get the better of her? How could see have forced herself onto him? She felt tears of shame sting at her eyes and brought her hands away from him, letting them hang awkwardly down her sides, the light splashing of the water being the only sound in the quiet room. She couldn't bear to look at him and her head titled down towards her chin.
She felt one of his arms unwrap from around her and she thought his intentions were to pull away from her, only he didn't. If anything, he held her a little tighter and his hand came up to her face, his fingers gently grasping her chin and tilting her head up.
"Look at mae," he muttered.
She shook her head in his hold and screwed her eyes shut tighter.
"Damsel," he said softly, "Look at mae."
Hermione braced herself for what she might see and reluctantly she let her eyes flutter open. The moment their gazes locked she felt her face flame red with embarrassment and shame.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes and threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I shouldn't have done that, oh, you must be so upset with me," she said, avoiding his gaze and trying to break free of his hold so she could climb out the pool and hide herself away until she was ready to face him again, which she was pretty sure would be never.
He held her tighter, though she wasn't sure that was actually possible.
"Calm doon," he said softly. "An' look at mae," he instructed.
Gathering what little courage she had left, her eyes wandered back to his, noticing the soft, but worried expression.
"Ye don' have tae apologise, ye did nothing wrong."
"But I did," she protested. "I practically forced myself on you. I'm a terrible human being. I let my emotions get the best of me, I let my feelings get in the way and I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have put you in this position."
Oliver froze in surprise, his hand falling from her chin, his eyes widening and his breath hitched slightly.
"Feelings?" He questioned.
Hermione's eyes widened and she lowered her head, not wanting him to see the panic that spread through her. She didn't want him to know. She knew he didn't feel the same and she didn't want him to feel awkward or pressured into anything. She didn't want him to reject her; she didn't think she'd be able to handle the pity or the embarrassment.
"What feelings?"
Hermione remained silent.
"Do ye have feelings fer mae?"
"N...No... Of course I don't, that would be ridiculous," she lied and badly. She'd always been a terrible liar and now it was going to bite her in the arse.
"Damsel, do ye have feelings fer mae?" He repeated, only this time there was something different about the way he spoke.
She wasn't entirely certain on what it was, but if she had to guess, she would've said that it had sounded almost hopeful. But she knew that was impossible, and still, she found herself lifting her head and getting caught in his big puppy dog eyes.
"Please don' lie tae mae," he breathed out, the arm that was still wrapped around her and pressed against the small of her back flexing.
"No," she lied.
"A don' believe ye," he said. "Tell mae the truth," he said, his eyes boring into hers.
Hermione couldn't take it and she shut her eyes against it, feeling tears well up once more and her cheeks burned hotter.
"I'm sorry,"
"Damsel?" He muttered.
"Yes," she breathed out, not willing to open her eyes and see his reaction. "I care about you. A lot. And as more than friends," she admitted.
His other arm wrapped around her once more and she both heard and felt the way he let out a deep breath when his chest brushed against hers. Not wanting to look but also being too curious about his reaction and him not pulling away from her like she'd expected him to, she forced herself to open her eyes and she'd never felt more confused in her life at the sight that met her.
Oliver's reaction was the exact opposite of what she'd expected. There was no pity, or embarrassment or even upset. In fact, whilst it was clear she'd surprised him with her confession, his eyes were brighter than she'd even seen and his smile wider than she ever thought possible. Hell, if his fans could see him now she was sure he'd be getting mauled and pawed at beyond belief.
"Thank Merlin," he said relieved and he lowered his head, his mouth pressing against hers.
Hermione's eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed and her arms moved to wrap around his neck. Scratch that, now she had never been more confused in her life.
The kiss was only a simple press of the lips and lasted no more than a few seconds, but the sheer intensity of it had taken her breath away. It was as if he was trying to convey his emotions by pouring them into the kiss and he pulled back from her, her eyes opening and getting lost in his beautiful orbs, before they fluttered closed and he pressed his forehead against hers.
"A've been wanting tae do tha' fer weeks."
"Huh?" She said dumbly.
"A care aboot ye. A lot. An' as more than friends," he echoed.
"Say what now?" She mumbled quickly.
He let out a chuckle and pulled back so he could look down at her. "A said, me feelings are mutual."
"What... But..." She blinked slowly and he chuckled at her again. "Since when?"
"A cannae answer tha' fer certain," he replied honestly. "But a dinnae understand what it was a was feeling fer ye until Christmas Eve."
"Same," she replied in a surprised whisper, and he lowered his head to press a quick, chaste kiss to her mouth before pulling back with a smile on his face. "If you felt this way, why didn't you stop me from going on all those dates?"
"It wisane me right tae do tha'. A don' have a claim on ye or tae ye, regardless af hoo a feel or felt at the time. A'll admit, a really dinnae like it, but a had naw right tae interfere."
"I wish you had," she replied with a sigh. "I've since realised why my dates were so awful." He raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't because they were rude, or insulting, or arrogant. It was because they didn't meet my expectations. For most of the date I spent my time comparing them to you and none of them matched up, not even a little bit."
He was surprised by her answer and it showed on his face.
"They weren't as kind, or charming, or just downright decent. They didn't make me smile or laugh the way you do. I didn't feel comfortable with them the way I do with you. I didn't feel safe or valued, or as though anything I said mattered. Not only did they annoy me with their words and behaviour, but they bored me, they couldn't keep me engaged. They couldn't keep up with me the way you can. All they cared about was the healer and war heroine, they didn't give a toss about me. And because of that, I wanted the dates to be bad no matter of their behaviour. I wanted it to be you."
His hand came up to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing over her jaw line and she titled her head into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second before opening again.
"Yer more than tha'. Yer more than what people believe or see," he said softly.
"And you're one of the few people that understand that," she replied. "You're one of the few people I trust to see me beyond the fame and reputation. You're one of the few people I can be myself around, and you're the only person I truly feel safe with," she admitted. "And I'm sorry. If I'd have known, I'd have never gone on those dates."
"Am sorry," he said. "If a'd have jus' come clean an' told ye the truth, told ye hoo a really felt, then we could've saved all this time we've wasted."
"The same could be said for me, but neither of us knew of the other's feelings and I certainly wasn't expecting your reaction or response. We were both afraid of what the other would think and feel, so we hid it from each other."
"An' still wasted all this time," he pointed.
"But now we don't have to, right?" She said, biting at her lip nervously.
He smiled down at her and nodded. "Right," he confirmed, before lowering his mouth and catching hers in a kiss.
A sigh left her when he teased her with little nips and licks before she parted for him and granted him entrance, one of her hands going into his hair to grip at the strands and the other clutching at the fabric of his wet t-shirt.
He felt her shiver against him and he pulled back from her, knowing he should get her out of the water before she caught hypothermia.
"We should probably get ye oot af the water," he said in an explanation as to why he pulled away from her, a smile pulling at his face when she didn't look pleased but otherwise she agreed.
Given they weren't that far away from the ladder, it was easy enough to help her over to it, letting her climb it first and he followed after her. She bent down to retrieve her wand after having dropped it when she'd fallen into the pool, and the Lumos Charm was still active.
Muttering the counter curse and the room falling into darkness with the only light being rays from the moon, Hermione pointed the wand at herself before casting a charm to dry both her clothing and hair and then she turned her wand on him and repeated the process. Lowering her wand arm, it hung loosely down her side as she and Oliver stared at her other silently, neither not exactly knowing what to say but still, it didn't feel awkward or strange to either of them.
With their eyes locked on each other and the short distance that was between them, the air was stuffy and hot, the atmosphere charged and tense and then something seemed to snap, and before either of them knew it, their arms were wrapped around each other, their bodies were pressed tightly together and they were kissing each other as if they would die if they stopped.
Oliver swooped down and lifted her off the ground, holding her against him in a way that was familiar to him after carrying her around when she'd been unable to walk. Whilst his arms supported her back and beneath her knees, Hermione's arms wound around his neck and her hands buried in his now dry hair, the strands still soft despite its interaction with the chlorine of the pool.
Oliver refused to take his mouth from hers and blindly navigated his way upstairs, banging into doors and walls and almost tripping on the stairs with giggles leaving Hermione every so often when he'd make a noise of pain but wouldn't pull away from her to see where he was going.
By the time he reached the corridor he carried her straight past her bedroom and towards his own, giving the door a nudge with his foot to open it wider and he kicked it closed behind him. Whilst he knew they were the only humans at the manor, he didn't fancy the idea of Merlin wandering in or possibly one of the elves, and when his door was shut, they knew to knock first and enter only after he'd given them permission.
Knowing the layout of his bedroom a lot better than the manor itself, he easily found his way over to his bed, sitting down on the edge with Hermione draped over his lap. When she stood, he craned his neck to keep his mouth to hers and she slipped back onto his lap, this time straddling him.
It was clear they were both going a little dizzy from a lack of oxygen but neither wanted to be the one to pull away first. It was Hermione that broke, a slight gasp leaving her before she trailed light, teasing kisses across his cheek, nibbling at his jaw and moving down to his neck, lavishing it with kisses and nips.
His hands gripped at her hips to keep her in place and a groan fell from his mouth when she reached up to tug at his earlobe and sucking it into her mouth. He knew she'd been a virgin before everything had happened, and he knew that she did have some experience with this kind of thing as she'd told him herself, he just hadn't expected her to so good at it, but then again, there wasn't much Hermione Granger couldn't master.
Feeling his hands slip beneath her shirt and his calloused fingers pressing against her skin, Hermione pulled back from him and was grateful that she hadn't buttoned up her shirt all the way as she usually did, and she reached down for the hem and tugged her shirt over her head, dropping the item of clothing to the ground and revealing the black cotton bra she wore.
She knew she'd surprised him as his eyes widened and his hands gripped at her tightly and she barely stopped herself from laughing. She'd always been self-conscious about her body, even more so as she grew older seeing as her boobs and arse weren't as big as the other girls in her dorm, but then she'd been brought into the war and that came with scars, emotional, mental and physical. And Hermione had her fair share of scars.
At the moment Oliver's eyes were taking in the thick, large one that all but split her torso in half, a gift curtsey of Antonin Dolohov. It was one of the more hideous scars that she had, and despite knowing she was usually self-conscious about her body, right now she didn't seem to care. Not when Oliver's grip on her tightened and his eyes darkened at the sight of her, before his gaze locked on her breasts held snugly in her bra, watching the rise and fall movement of every breath she took and admittedly, her breathing was heavier than normal.
She leaned in closer with the intentions of snogging him senseless, only he leaned further back out of reach and his eyes darted up to her face, seeing her frown.
"We don' have tae do this," he said softly. "We don' have tae do anythin' ye don' want tae do. If ye jus' want tae stop things here an' have a cuddle, a won't think any differently af ye an' it won't change the way a feel aboot ye."
Hermione's frown softened. "I know," she replied. "You'd never hurt me, you don't have it in you to be so cruel, verbally, physically or otherwise."
"A don' want tae push ye."
"You're not," she assured him. "Anything that happens is what I want to happen, and I know that if I want to stop or I'm not comfortable, you won't make me feel bad about it."
"An' flashbacks? Yer'v been doin' so well lately."
She smiled at him. "I don't remember any of the actual attack, just a bit grabbing and groping before I blacked out and I'm grateful for that because it means they can't take this from me. Do you not want me because of what happened?"
"Af course a want ye," he said, looking at her as though she were crazy for even thinking that.
"That's what I thought. I'm fairly confident that anything that happens between us won't trigger a flashback because there's nothing to be triggered. Please, don't let them ruin this for us. Don't make this about them when it should be about us and what we want."
"If it gets tae much fer ye..."
"You'll be the first to know," she promised. "We all good now?" He nodded. "Great, kiss me."
Oliver didn't have to be told twice and leaned closer to claim her mouth, a little sigh leaving her and her hands tugging at his hair. A noise of surprise left her when he lifted her from his lap and set her down on the mattress and with a tug on his t-shirt, she pulled him to rest between her thighs until he was hovering over her on his elbows.
Pulling back from her long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and drop it to the ground, amusement bubbled within him when Hermione pushed herself up with a concentrated frown on her face and her hands came up to the left side of his stomach, softly probing around the faded bruise he'd gotten when stopping the quaffle from passing through the hoops.
"Healer Granger?" Oliver said amused.
She looked up at him, her cheeks tinting a light pink and a sheepish smile pulling at her mouth. "Sorry, force of habit," she replied.
He snorted at her. "Actually, a was gunna say a think a need a full body examination."
Her sheepish smile turned into a smirk and Oliver blinked in surprise when her eyes darkened with heat and mischief, far from being nervous and shy like he thought she would've been.
"Well, Captain Wood, as your healer it's my duty to make sure you're in perfect health."
He couldn't help it; he gulped, actually being afraid that she might try to devour him with the way she was looking at him. Why did she make him so nervous?
She reached up and pulled him down and on top of her, her mouth claiming his and her tongue darting out to seek entrance. After granting her it, she rolled them both and shuffled until she was straddling him. She pulled back from him and he rose up, not wanting her to have done it so soon but she pressed him back down onto the mattress with a firm hand on his chest.
His eyes seemed to grow darker the longer she stared at him until she lowered her head and started nipping, licking, kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulders. Slowly, she moved lower, lavishing the same treatment on his chest and he couldn't help but curse when she unexpectedly pulled a nipple into her mouth, sucking and nibbling with her teeth, before moving onto the other. Once she was sure she'd teased him enough she continued on her path south, nipping and licking at his abs and stomach and he'd never been more surprised in his life when she slipped her hand beneath his clothing and wrapped it around his length.
A strangled sound that he'd never made before got caught in his throat and he clenched his hands into fists, his eyes remaining locked on hers. Despite there being a flush to her skin, she didn't look embarrassed or uncomfortable and she proved that when she shifted his clothing a little down his hips so his erection sprung.
Oliver got the feeling she'd done this before as her hand movements weren't clumsy or hesitant and she swiped at the head with her thumb, using the leaking liquid to make her hand better glide over him.
That same strangled sound left him when she lowered her head and without hesitation licked his length from base to tip and she slowly took him in her mouth. Oliver concluded she'd definitely done this before.
He was torn between falling back onto the mattress and just enjoying it, and keeping himself raised so he could watch her; between fisting at the bed sheets and burying his hands in her wild curls; between telling her to stop and encouraging her to continue, especially when her hand worked at what she couldn't fit into her mouth, her other hand traced light and gentle circles on his hip and she looked up at him from under her lashes, watching his reaction.
He couldn't take it.
He reached out for her and pulled her back up his body, his breathing coming out in pants and his eyes wild with heat and desire.
"If a let ye continue this is all gunna be over very soon," he said huskily, a smug look taking up residence on her face and Oliver was going to enjoy showing her what his own mouth could.
He flipped them until she was lying beneath him and he wasted no time in mapping out the same route she had on his body, his tongue, mouth and teeth working at her skin and his hands moving to unclasp her bra and pulling it off when she arched her body against his. A moan fell from her when his mouth encased her nipple and his fingers moved to pay attention to the other and swapping not long after.
His mouth moved down her stomach, his tongue tracing the large scar until he reached the waist band of her pyjama shorts and she lifted her hips, giving him an invitation to remove them entirely. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he pulled the soft fabric down her legs and over her feet before tossing them to the ground and he settled himself between her legs, his shoulders pushing them further apart and opening her wider for him.
He took in the sight of her glistening with arousal and her scent filled his nose as he leaned in closer, wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her in place and his tongue darted out.
Her eyes left his and her head dropped back, a gasp leaving her mouth as he worked her over with his tongue, teeth and lips. The bed sheets were bunched tightly in her hands, her teeth sunk into her lip to prevent noise from escaping but failing, and he felt her thighs shaking in his hold. He didn't know her body all that well –and he planned on rectifying that- but it wasn't hard for him to understand she was very close to being sent over the edge, and he planned on doing so with only his mouth. And that happened not long later.
Her body arched up, a gasp tore from her and her thighs shook in his hold as he guided her through her orgasm. She sank back into the mattress, pants leaving her and her eyes closed tightly. Pulling back from her, he wiped at his mouth before climbing up her body.
He loomed over her, looking down at her until her eyes opened, getting caught in his gaze, his expression soft and caring. "As far as am concerned, am yer first," he spoke.
She nodded, her gaze holding his and showing him that she was completely comfortable and certain of what she wanted.
"You're my first," she agreed.
His eyes traced her beautiful, flushed features for a few more seconds and then he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss as he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs. It seemed she'd waited long enough as her hands came down to his bottoms, hooking her fingers into the waist band of both them and his underwear and pushing them down his hips.
He pulled away from her long enough to remove the final items of clothing and she pulled him back to her, kissing him once more. Her hand snaked between them, wrapping around his length and pulling a groan from him when she pumped her hand over him and then guided him to her entrance.
He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck, bestowing nips, licks and kisses to her soft skin. Knowing it was still probably going to hurt her a little, he was mindful to keep his movements slow as he eased his way into her, feeling her body gripping him tightly. She didn't let out a noise of pain but he did hear her breath hitch and once he was fully sheathed, he lifted his head to see her eyes closed and her biting at her lip. Sensing his gaze her eyes fluttered open, seeing his worried expression.
"I'm fine," she breathed out. "It doesn't so much as hurt, it's more of a feeling I'm not used to. You can move," she told him, wiggling her hips beneath him and his hands clenched into tight fists at the feel of her tightening around him.
Taking a breath, he ducked down to kiss her again and was slow and careful in his movements as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, catching her gasp in his mouth. It wasn't much longer when the discomfort seemed to have vanished and Hermione's legs hooked around his hips and she began moving her hips against his, encouraging him to move faster and harder.
She pulled back from him and sank down into the mattress, moans and whimpers falling from her lips. Oliver looked down at her, seeing her flushed skin, her wild hair surrounding her in a halo, her parted mouth and her closed eyes. Feeling the way her thighs tightened about his hips, her nails dug into his back and shoulders, her body fluttering around him; this was the witch he was meant to be with.
A ragged gasp sounded from her and knowing she was close, he not only changed the angle of his hips to try and find that sweet spot to send her flying off the edge, but his hand snaked down between them to tend to her little bundle of nerves, and sure enough, it happened.
Her nails raked down his back as she arched into him, her walls gripping him tightly and a strangled gasp of his name falling from her lips. Knowing he probably wouldn't be successful as it was all too much to bear, he didn't bother trying to hold himself back and he let himself follow after her, finding his release as he buried his face against her neck and Hermione pulled him down on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
~000~000~000~
"Have ye ev'r been in love?" Oliver asked, breaking the silence in the room.
They laid cuddled together, Oliver spooning Hermione with his arm pillowed beneath her head and the other flung over her waist, his hand being held by hers as she fiddled and played with his fingers.
Hermione, being surprised with the question, paused in her actions and bit her lip in thought, wondering how to reply to that. It was one thing to admit to having feelings for someone, but to admitting to loving them was something else entirely, especially if you hadn't said those words to anyone that wasn't a family member.
"I didn't love Dean," she started. "We'd been out on a few dates and weren't together long enough for me to get to know him as a person, as someone I hadn't just gone to school with. Viktor, I adored him, I really did, but I never loved him. Deep down I knew it would never last between us; there were too many obstacles in the way: the language barrier, the distance, his fame and the war. We cared for each other, we learned from each other and we had fun, but we weren't designed to last, and any witch that ends up with him is lucky because he's a good man. Ron, I fancied myself in love with him, but I was a young, naive child back then and as I grew older I started to realise that we weren't a good match. Our tempers alone..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "There was a muggle boy, one of my neighbours actually. I had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger, but he was older than me and soon left for university. I don't even think he knew my name," she shrugged.
"Tha's all very interesting," he spoke, "But ye dinnae answer me question."
Hermione let out a sigh and nibbled at her lip. Well, she'd already taken one chance today and that hadn't blown up in her face, maybe it was time to take another and hope for the same result.
She shifted onto her back and turned her head, getting caught in his gaze.
"I've never been in love... Not until I met you."
His eyes widened and his breath hitched and he stared at her as the meaning of her words slowly sunk in.
His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before saying, "A've never been in love... Not until a met ye." She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling and her smile bright. "A've a question a want tae ask."
"And that is?"
"Hermione Granger, Reigning Champion an' Queen af Board Games, will ye be me girlfriend?"
"I meant what I said about relationships and the right wizard walking into my life, and as it turns out, that wizard is you. So, Oliver Wood, not yet a champion and Reigning Loser of Board Games, yes, I will be your girlfriend," she said, leaning closer to press a kiss to his mouth and Oliver let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, a smile settling on his face.
"A hate tae have tae admit this, but a've never had an actual girlfriend." She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Honestly, befere ye a wisnae looking fer a relationship an' a never felt comfortable enough around a witch tae consider entering intae one. So technically, yer me first girlfriend."
"That's nothing for you to be ashamed of," she told him and Oliver felt relieved at hearing that. He'd been worried she'd think him to be a terrible person. "I imagine your career was a factor of that."
"Not a lot af people can handle me intense training schedule," he nodded.
"And those that can only want you for your fame and money, I get it," she said, and he knew she did; she was even more famous than he was. "And as you said before, you didn't feel comfortable enough with a witch or ready for a relationship and that's perfectly alright. I've no expectations of you. I just want you to be happy."
"In the time since meetin' ye, a've never been happier," he confessed.
She smiled at him softly. "The feeling's mutual," she assured him, pressing a kiss to his mouth before turning to face away from him and snuggling under the blanket a little more.
"A love ye, Damsel," Oliver muttered into her ear.
Hermione smiled, twining her fingers through his. "I love you, too, Knight."
~000~000~000~
Sunday 31st January, 1999
When Oliver woke he was alone and the room was still dark with only a slither of moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains. Frowning, he reached over to feel the other side of his bed being cold, meaning Hermione had been gone a while.
He sat himself up and grabbed his wand, casting a charm to tell him the time and seeing that it was still early in the morning, so early that he'd barely had two hours sleep since he'd drifted off with Hermione in his arms and after confessing his love for her.
That had been a development he'd never expected, but he'd never been happier at that moment in time.
When she'd kissed him in the pool, he'd been flooded with feelings of shock and confusion but he hadn't allowed it to stop him from kissing her back, especially since he'd been wanting to do it since Christmas Eve. Hermione wasn't an impulsive person and she didn't do anything without thinking it through, so for her to kiss him the way she had, he'd known there was something else to it and for both their sakes, he'd been determined to find out the reasoning behind her actions.
It had taken a little coaxing until she'd admitted her feelings for him and he'd never been more surprised and he'd never been happier. Hearing that the woman you loved reciprocated your feelings was one of the best feelings in the world, and now that they'd both finally stopped hiding from each other and she'd agreed to be his girlfriend, Oliver had every intention of making sure her life with him was happy.
He wanted to make her as happy as she made him. He wanted to show her that not all wizards were arseholes. He wanted to shower her with books and chicken pie and now he had a legitimate reason to be able to do that.
As he'd never been in a relationship before and he'd never felt for someone the way he felt for Hermione, he was worried he'd do something stupid that would ruin things between them. He didn't know the rules of dating; he didn't know what was expected of him now that he was in a relationship with her. He didn't know how he should or shouldn't behave or what was considered to be right and wrong. He was worried that he was at a disadvantage and he really didn't want to lose her now that she was finally his.
He thought about asking Hermione but didn't want to seem stupid, but he'd told her he'd never been in a relationship before and she'd said she had no expectations of him, so maybe he had nothing to worry about. Maybe he was just being paranoid and needed to give his head a good shake.
A faint noise caught his attention and deciding to go in search of Hermione, he climbed from beneath the blanket, stood from the bed and slipped on his discarded underwear before leaving his room, following the sound.
It led him downstairs and as he grew closer and the sound grew louder, he soon became aware of what it was and he stopped in his movements in surprise, before giving his head a shake and continuing in his steps until he reached his destination, coming to stop in the door way and leaning against the door frame, taking in one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.
Lit candles floated about the room, the firelight seeming to make Hermione's skin glow as she sat on the padded bench, her curls wild and tangled as they hung down her back, her body covered by an oversized Quidditch practice jersey and the navy blue contrasting against the pale skin of her thighs. Her eyes were closed, her head gently swaying and a soft, content smile on her face as her hands danced expertly over the keys of the grand piano.
The sweet, soft melody filled his ears and peace and comfort settled over him, his body relaxing as the music suddenly slowed, almost to a stop, and then played once more, the melody being quieter and softer than before.
He honestly didn't know how long he stood there silently watching her, but the melody seemed to be drawing to a close as it slowed and then gently tapered off into silence, Hermione's hands coming to a stop and her head bowing forward slightly.
"I know you're there," she spoke, startling him. She lifted her head and turned to look at him, her smile widening slightly.
"Ye said ye couldn't play," he said softly.
"No, you asked me if I did play, not if I could," she corrected. He walked into the room, moving until he sat beside her on the padded bench. "I haven't been near a piano in years," she told him.
"Why'd ye stop?"
A sad looked crossed her face, making him feel guilty and as though he shouldn't be prying into her personal business, but she answered him, bringing her hands away from the keys and setting them down in her lap.
"I stopped when my Grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. I just didn't want to play anymore. When she got better she tried to convince me not to give it up but I was teased a lot in school, and my cousins all used to make fun of me and I lost interest. Then I found out I was a witch and I did consider going back to it like my Grandmother had wanted and I did miss it, but then she died and her last wish was that I play at her funeral, she wanted my music to be the thing that sent her off into the afterlife, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt so ashamed of myself and I lost my inspiration and motivation," she said, looking down at the keys, her fingers moving to softly trail over the ivory.
"People think that books are my biggest love, but they're not. It's always been my music. That was my escape. I learned to play the piano before I learned to read, and when my Grandmother got sick and the bullying wouldn't stop, I guess I gave up on it," she said sadly. "I hadn't realised how much I missed playing, I hadn't realised how much of myself I lost until just now." She looked up at him, getting caught in his gaze. "Thank you," she whispered.
"Fer what?"
She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You're the reason I'm here. You're the reason I found the courage and motivation. I found my inspiration in you and you've brought music back into my life, and I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you for that."
Oliver was genuinely touched by her words and he was a little overwhelmed if he was being honest. He didn't know how to respond to that or if he should, so instead, he just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling back to see a smile on her face and her closed eyes before they fluttered open.
"What was tha' ye were playing?" He asked.
"It's a piece written by Franz Liszt, a Hungarian composer and pianist from the 1800's. It's known as Love Dream."
"What's it aboot?"
"Passion and love," she answered. "It was written to symbolise the passion and love a person may have for someone or something, so maybe a profession or a place, maybe a lover or a family member."
"It was beautiful," he commented and he meant it. It really was. Listening to it had made him feel as though he were in dream, as though he were flying through the clouds on his broom. It made him feel light and peaceful. "Will ye play it fer me?"
Hermione smiled and nodded, her hands lifting to the keys once more, her eyes closed and the soothing melody filling the room. He kept his eyes on her, watching at how the smile never wavered and her body was relaxed despite her perfect posture. He could've happily sat for hours and watched her play and he hoped that now she'd rediscovered her love for music, he'd get to do just that. Much sooner than he'd have liked, the melody came to an end and she turned to look at him.
He reached up, brushing her hair back from her face and she tilted her head, leaning into his touch with her eyes fluttering closed.
"Yer very good," he spoke.
Well, he assumed she was. He hadn't met many pianists, the only one being his old teacher when he was a kid and despite not being with her long, he couldn't remember her being able to play the way Hermione did.
She smiled at him. "Like I said, I learned to play before I learned to read. I was a bit of a prodigy," she admitted. "Before I stopped playing, I was tipped to be offered scholarships to study at some of the best music schools in the world," she said and he blinked at that, completely surprised. "But even if that were the case, I still would've discovered I was a witch and my music would've had to take a back seat. I haven't played in eleven years and whilst I'm a little rusty, you never forget. It's like riding a bike, or flying a broom I should say."
"Tha's ye bein' rusty?" He asked disbelievingly. She laughed and nodded. "Bloody hell," he muttered. If she could play like that now, how would she play once she got back into it for real?
"Give me a couple of weeks and I should be up to par to when I was eight."
"Yer gunna keep playing?"
"I'm going to keep playing," she nodded.
"Am glad tae hear tha'," he said. "It would be such a shame fer yer talent tae go tae waste, especially when there's a perfectly good piano waitin' tae be played."
She smiled. "I'm sorry for waking you," she said.
"Am glad ye did, a'd have never gotten tae witness yer playing otherwise," he replied, before reaching out to tug on the hem of the jersey she wore.
It was far too big for her; the sleeves she'd rolled up to her elbows, them likely having gotten in the way of her playing, and he suspected that when she stood it would fall somewhere between her knees and mid-thigh.
"Where'd ye get this?" He asked, despite already knowing.
She gave him a sheepish smile. "Your closet," she answered. "But it's very comfortable," she said, unrolling the sleeves to show they did fall past her hands and she wrapped her arms around herself. "And it's soft and warm, and it smells like you, too. You're going to have to get used to this, girlfriends steal their boyfriends' clothes all the time."
His mouth twitched at hearing her acknowledging their relationship. "A dinnae say a had a problem with it, a think it suits ye."
"Of course you do," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "After all, I literally have your name and jersey number sprawled across my back."
He smirked before reaching out to wrap his arms around her and pulling her into him. "There is somethin' satisfying aboot tha', am not gunna lie."
"Possessive are we?" She asked amused. He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I should get myself the rest of the team's jerseys, too, so then I can support all of them."
"Not happening," he said with a scowl.
She laughed. "Jealous are we?"
"Not usually," he answered. He'd never had a reason to be jealous before, but since meeting her he was becoming familiar with the emotion. "What aboot ye?"
"Not really," she shrugged. "I can deal with all the crazy fan girls, I did date Viktor after all, but if a woman were to say or do anything inappropriate, especially in front of me, then she's getting hexed."
His mouth twitched. "A think a like this side af ye."
"That's fortunate, with how bloody handsome you are I suspect it will be happening a lot."
He chuckled. "Well, the same goes fer ye. A man does or says somethin' inappropriate, a cannae promise a won't deck him one."
She laughed and shook her head. "Well, we should probably get some sleep but I'm in the mood for pancakes. You?"
"Chocolate chip?" He asked.
"Chocolate chip," she agreed, a squeal of surprise leaving her when he stood from the bench, bent down and hauled her up into his arms in the way that was familiar to them.
"I can walk," she said amused.
"Anno," he replied with an innocent smile.
She snorted as she felt his hand slip beneath the hem of the jersey to rest on her thigh. "I get it now," she shook her head.
They soon entered the kitchen and Oliver set Hermione down and quickly retrieved their wands from his bedroom, before filling the room with balls of light. It didn't take Hermione long to whip up a batch of pancakes, and after they found themselves sitting beside each other on the kitchen island as they silently ate their food, before the plates were sent to the sink.
"A wanted tae ask, hoo are ye feeling?"
She looked up at him and a smile pulled at her face. "Perfectly fine," she assured him. "I was a little overwhelmed with what's recently happened to us and I couldn't sleep, and I'm not sure how but I found myself sat at the piano and before I knew it, I was playing again. There's nothing for you to worry about," she said, laying her head to press against his shoulder and he took her hand in his, twining their fingers together.
"I wanted to talk to you about something," she spoke.
"Alright, what is it?" He asked, hearing the hesitation in her voice.
"We've both been through a lot lately, with my attack and me coming into your life, and now we've both admitted our feelings and we're together... I just, I wanted to know if you were okay with keeping things between us quiet... just for a little while."
When he didn't answer she looked up at him, seeing him looking down at the ground with a frown on his face.
"I'm not ashamed of you, Oliver," she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze and pulling his eyes up to her. "I could never be and will never be ashamed of you and I'll happily shout from the Coach's box my feelings for you... I just want to wait. I just want to be able to spend some time with you, to have you all to myself for a little while. You're forgetting who we are to the public."
"War heroine, Quidditch star," he said, his finger gesturing to each of them as understanding hit him.
"Yes, you may be Oliver to me, I'm Hermione to you, but to them we're celebrities, we're Britain's most eligible bachelor and bachelorette. You're you and I'm me. I'm sure you saw the media coverage on my breakup with Ron, it was terrible. When the press gets wind of our relationship you know they'll surround us like vultures and they won't leave us alone. And as for your fans, the crazy ones might take offence to you having a girlfriend. I dated Viktor Krum, and his fan girls attacked me and sent me hate mail for most of my fourth year in school, and that was school children. Can you imagine what fully grown witches might do?"
An unhappy look crossed his face before looking to her in worry, realising that she was right.
"I know the hype of it all will die down eventually but right now, after everything we've been through, I just want it to be us, just for a little while."
"Jus' us, a can see the point in tha'," he nodded. "We'll keep it quiet fer now."
"This means that you have to keep your hands to yourself whilst we're at work," she said amused. He scowled at that before a smile pulled at his face. "And don't even think about purposely getting injured as an excuse to see me," she said knowingly.
His smile widened. "A wouldn't do tha'," he replied and she raised an eyebrow. "A was thinkin' af faking an injury so a could get a quick snog in yer office."
She blinked at him before she burst into laughter, leaning against him for support and her laughter set him off, too.
"Alright, maybe once or twice, but be careful," she said amused.
He grinned at her. "A knew ye were perfect fer mae."
"Hmmm," she hummed. "I can't cook, you can't bake."
"Ye canne swim or fly, an' a can."
"Quidditch scares the hell out of me, and you love it."
"A get injured, an' ye fix mae," he said and she snorted.
"People can understand what I'm saying, you not so..." she trailed off with a laugh when he pinched her side in warning.
"A fergot tae mention, befere ye got home me da visited. Me ma's got an appointment with Dr. Clay on Wednesday..."
"I'll be there," she interrupted and he smiled. "Now, we really should get some sleep," she said, hopping down from the kitchen island, banishing the balls of light and pulling him back to his bedroom.
They climbed into bed and Oliver pulled her to him, wrapping her up in his arms and hearing her let out a little sigh as she snuggled against him.
"Damsel?" He said quietly.
"Hmmm?" She hummed tiredly.
He bit his lip, wondering if what he was about to ask her was a good idea or if he was simply getting ahead of himself and he should wait.
"What is it?" She asked, lifting her head to look at him when he hadn't spoken for a little while.
Shaking his head of his thoughts, he looked down at her. "A've never been in a relationship but even a know this is a big step tae take..."
"Yes?"
He took a breath and gathered his Gryffindor courage. "Do ye want tae move in with mae?"
"What?" She asked, her surprise evident in the widening of her eyes.
"Do ye want tae move in with mae?" He repeated. "A mean, ye live here anyway, right? Yer already me roommate so nothin' will really change, except ye maybe sleep in here with mae instead. If ye don' wanna move ye clothes an' things oot af yer room, ye can leave them there an' turn it intae a dressing room."
She nibbled at her lip in thought. "You're right, that is a big step," she said, and Oliver felt disappointment setting in, until she spoke that is. "And I do already live here so nothing will really change. We do love each other, right?"
"Right," he said instantly.
"And people that love each other do tend to move in together, and as it is, we've been living together for months now and I'm already used to your habits and mannerisms, so there's going to be no surprises on that front. We'll probably end up falling asleep with each other now anyway, especially since I always seem to sleep better when you're with me. So the way I see it, the only logical option would be to move in together." Oliver's face pulled into a wide grin. "But we may have to do something about this room?" She said, looking about in the darkness.
"What's wrong with it?" He frowned.
"Not enough navy blue, and it could do with a Puddlemere logo or two," she replied.
His smile quickly found its way back onto his face and he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers.
"Am gunna make ye an entire batch af chicken pies," he muttered against her mouth.
She let out a pleased groan. "Guess that means I'm baking chocolate chip cookies. And now that I'm officially your girlfriend that lives with you," she said, making him smile, "You should probably order some more jerseys, because I swear, half of them are mine now."
He laughed and buried his face in her hair.
"I'm not joking."
~000~000~000~
"Bobby?" Oliver questioned in surprise, coming to a stop as he stepped into the kitchen and seeing the little elf levitating items of food and a pot of tea onto a tray, not to mention, Merlin was sat beneath the kitchen table and eating what looked to be sausages and bacon.
"Master Oliver," he replied with a bow.
"What are ye doin?"
"Bobby brings Master ands the Miss breakfasts in bed," he said with a smile.
Oliver blinked slowly. Bobby never made breakfast. Ever!
Oliver knew he and Hermione had slept late, so late that it was actually lunch time, but given how late they'd been up neither of them had felt bad about sleeping through the morning, especially when they'd planned to just lounge about in bed all day.
"Why?"
"Bobby happys the Master and the Miss bes together. Bobby beens waiting a long time."
Oliver frowned in confusion.
"Bobby? When Hermione first got here, why did ye answer her calls? She's not yer mistress."
Bobby beamed a smile and much to Oliver's confusion and surprise, his checks flushed pink and he rocked on the balls of his feet as if he was unable to contain his happiness.
"Bobby knows Master, Bobby knows the Miss bes his mistress the first time Bobby saws her."
"What?" Oliver blurted out.
Bobby's grin widened. "Elves be knowing things, Master. Elves be knowing when they be getting a new master or mistress. Bobby knows Master will marry the Miss. Bobby knows the Miss bes his mistress. Bobby be answering the Miss 'coz his magic knows she bes his mistress."
"Ye think am gunna marry Hermione?" He asked slowly, trying to process it all.
"No, Master," Bobby beamed. "Bobby knows Master will marry the Miss. Bobby's magic knows."
"Wh..." Oliver trailed off, not only because he wasn't sure how to actually reply to that, but because Bobby closed the distance between them and flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around his legs and sobbing loudly.
"Bobby, please stop cryin'," Oliver spoke. "If Hermione hears, she'll think a've done somethin' tae upset ye an' she'll throw a fit."
Bobby pulled back and sniffled, wiping his face on his pillow case.
"Bobby bes happy the Master and Miss be happy. Bobby not like it when they not knows about each other."
Oliver cleared his throat. "Right, Bobby, let mae get this straight," he started, looking over his shoulder to make sure Hermione wasn't behind him or in hearing distance. "Yer sayin' tha' ye know am gunna marry Hermione?"
"Yes, Master. Bobby's elf magic tells him. Bobby knows Master and the Miss be loving each other. Bobby knows she be Mistress of the Manor. Bobby's elf magic not lie. All elves knows these things, and elves are never wrong."
Oliver took a deep breath and shook his head, feeling a headache forming.
"Alright, Bobby, a believe ye," he muttered. "Thank ye fer making us breakfast but a'll take it tae her. An' unless it's an emergency please don' disturb us fer the rest af the day, if we have visitors, tell them am not in."
"Yes, Master Oliver," he replied with a bow before he disappeared from view.
Oliver moved over to the tray on the counter and busied himself with putting the remainder of the food items on it, whilst processing what he'd just learned.
Hell, he hadn't been expecting that!
But he did trust Bobby and his words. It was a well known fact elfin magic was powerful in its own right, and it would certainly make sense for them to be able to sense or feel when they were getting a new master or mistress, that way they were prepared and wouldn't accidentally insult and make a bad impression on him or her before they officially joined the family.
To learn that Bobby knew he would someday marry Hermione and make her Lady Wood –once his mother and father passed, that is- was a shock to his system. Of course he wasn't opposed to the idea, any man that had Hermione Granger's heart was incredibly lucky and she was an exceptional witch and would someday be a wonderful wife, but they'd only just started dating and despite her agreeing to move in with him so soon, marriage was an even bigger step, especially since children usually came after it.
He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought of what Hermione would be like as a mother; he'd seen the way she interacted with the children from the orphanage, he'd seen the way they children adored her and he'd seen the way she'd handled little baby Timmy like a pro, so he knew she'd been great at it, just like everything else she did.
And now that he was reminded of her and the way she'd been with Timmy, he couldn't stop the image of Hermione sitting in the library as she read aloud to the little baby boy in her arms from entering his mind. He couldn't stop thinking of a little boy with curly brown hair and brown eyes flying about on a training broom whilst Hermione watched worriedly and held a new born baby in her arms. He couldn't stop thinking of Hermione being sat at the grand piano, a young boy and a little girl sat on either side of her as she taught them how to play, and with one hand pressed against her swollen stomach.
"Bloody hell," Oliver sighed, shaking his head. Picking up the tray and seeing that Merlin had finished eating, he said. "Come on, Merlin, let's go have cuddles with yer ma."
The large dog barked in response and darted out from beneath the table and out of the kitchen, loud laughter soon echoing through the manor.
"A suppose a better keep an eye oot fer a bloody ring," he muttered, as he made his way towards his bedroom with the tray in hand, Hermione's laughter and Merlin's barks waiting for him.