Chapter 04:
Oliver and his team was having a hell of a time. Their coach had gone positively bonkers making them wonder if he was under the Imperious Curse after all. Coach Macmillan wanted the team to make a comeback with a bang after the war and he was absolutely grating them every morning and then frying them post lunch. By the time he was done with them, they were just about dead. Sometimes, the war seemed an easier option for Oliver compared to this. But he loved it. Every single minute of it and wouldn't let it pass for the world. Especially now that he was Puddlemere United's Captain this year on.
Just when the team was counting the minutes before their long awaited lunch break, they saw some activity near the stands. The stadium's receptionist, by the looks of it had come rustling down to the stands towards the coach. After a quick word with her, the coach called the team down for their lunch break. Finally bristled everyone. Just when he was to land, the coach informed him that he had visitors in the waiting area at the stadium.
Confused about who it could be as no one who knew Oliver would disturb him during his quidditch practice, ever, Oliver simply nodded his head and started walking towards the waiting lounge. Thinking longingly about hot food and fervently praying that the visitor would leave in 5 minutes flat so that he could make a run for the cafeteria and enjoy his lunch break as he was supposed to. Eating!
Two women facing their backs to the door greeted his entry. One was a flaming ginger head – definitely a Weasley, Ginny, making the brunette next to her….Hermione.
He stood there, happily unnoticed for the moment, and took in the sight of his soon-to-be wife. She was petite, may be 5 feet 2 or 3, had waist length brown hair, though it wasn't as unruly as he remembered from his Hogwarts days, they were curly nonetheless, bushy yet shiny, glorious was the word that sprung to his mind then. Shapely legs that somehow seemed long despite her short height and marked lack of heels. So not an avid dresser then. Brilliant. He had always hated those women who thought they had to dress up to the hilt every single time they stepped out of their homes to send an owl or something as trivial as that. She looked more of a comfort dresser and he liked that. Very much. Shaking his head slightly at the notion of liking anything about a woman he hadn't even seen the face of in nearly 4 years, the time at the battle not counting, he cleared his throat to draw their attention.
Both the women turned at the same time, as if in a practised move and smiled at him. Ginny's was an award-winning one for some weird reason, while Hermione's was a small tentative one.
"Hey there!" totted Ginny, breaking the quiet in the waiting room. "There you go," she said, pointing at Hermione while still looking at Oliver, "just as I promised. You owe me big, Wood. Without me to intervene, I don't think you would have had a chance to meet your ministry intended any time before the ministry ball next week and knowing Kingsley, he would probably have just shoved you in front of flashing cameras before you even got a chance to say 'Howdi madame' to our golden girl here."
From the corner of his eyes, Oliver saw Hermione visibly flinch at the title conferred up on her repeatedly by everyone. So not one to bask in her glory then. Good too, thought Oliver. He hated the pompous ones more than the dressy ones! "I'll go and introduce myself to the coach I think" Ginny offered and moved out. "Be good" she winked and almost glided down the hall leading to the stadium.
"Should I be worried?" stated Oliver, giving a quick glance at Ginny's retreating back.
"Knowing her, you as well might be" deadpanned Hermione.
"So, Granger" oops he thought, who calls his would-be-wife by her last name?
She dipped her head in acknowledgment "Wood."
He deserved that he guessed.
"Look, let me be honest with you and make it quick so that you can return to your lunch. I understand you do not need this, trust me no one does. It sucks but we have no choice. I'd rather not be in Azkaban right now, have got too many enemies in there," she smiled at her own joke. "Anyway, I can promise I'll try to be as little an intrusion on your life as possible. Please feel free to continue on as you may. I'm giving my NEWTs in November, plus I travel a lot for work, so you won't really have to worry too much on my account. Just, if possible, I'll really appreciate it if you keep your …. other interests away from the paparazzi. I do not need more heart ache right now!"
"Are you just dense or are you specifically trying to rile me up?" Oliver asked with a little ice in his tone. "Either ways, I do not know what I did to deserve this treatment from you. We are gonna be married and that means something to me. May be in the muggle world you all have easy divorces, but here in our world, marriages are pretty much permanent and come with fidelity stamped on the band! I'll have you and you'll have me for the rest of our lives, that's that. I'd rather not separate after bringing a child into the equation. Let me know if that suits you or we could think about petitioning for other matches."
Hermione paled at his banter. "I am sorry, Wood. I did not mean to offend you" she said in lieu of a truce. "It's just that most quidditch players have trophy wives and I'm not that good looking to be one. I'm not an arm candy you can parade around, I'd be a sore disappointment in that section. This," she pointed at herself "is me. Jeans and converses. I'm not the short dresses, flirty kind of things most players surround themselves with! And I don't think I'd ever want to be someone like that too."
"And who told you that's what I want in my wife?" Oliver asked a little more annoyed now. "Yes, players surround themselves with such things, but who takes them home to their parents? No one. We are all still humans, Granger. We too would like a shot at wives with substance and character. So can you please stop selling yourself short?"
"I am sorry."
"And just stop with the apologising!" he snapped. There was no sound for the next minute. "What? No apology?"
"You just asked me not to," she pattered back, eyes wide, mouth in an o.
"Good," he smiled, "Now tell me something about yourself."
She arched her brows at that. "What about your lunch?"
"I'll skip it," he shrugged, ignoring the grumbling protests in his stomach.
"No way. You need the food to remain fit and attentive! Ginny just told me that you've been promoted to Captain. Congratulations by the way. But that's more so a reason to behave. Now please go have some lunch, we can always talk later" she ranted on.
"Are you always this bossy?" he questioned, brows furrowed.
She bit her lip at that. "Yes."
He considered her answer for a moment before replying, "I think I can learn to live with that" he half smiled. "You'll do, Granger. Owl me when you're free next so we can have our first date and talk with a little less hostility. Make sure you do that before the Ministry ball if you'd like me to accompany you."
Hermione opened and then shut her mouth, behaving like a fish.
"I can't say yes to a question that hasn't been asked yet, now can I?" and with that he was gone.
!
"There you go?….Am I a sack of potatoes Ginny?…." Hermione offered laughingly. Ginny fixed her with a pointed look stating that she knew this was Hermione's way of changing the topic but she would let it pass for now. So, being a sport, Ginny bit the bullet and the two women glamour charmed themselves up to move incognito through the day and walked into Diagon Alley to get some serious shopping of unwanted tit-bits underway.