Chapter 17:
On the weekend right after Hermione left, Oliver wondered what he'd done with all his spare time before meeting her!
On the second Saturday after she had left for her short trip, Oliver found himself worried sick about her. So he floo called Ginny, not knowing what else to do. She immediately pulled him over at her place, explaining that not just was Hermione safe, she was right there at her house. She had fallen out of the floo two nights back she explained. Before he could wrap his mind around that and pick that particular bone with Ginny about not bothering to inform him about his wife's arrival, they heard a faint muffle.
"Ginny, are you there?" a soft voice called from the room just beyond the dining area.
"Mione, you up?" Ginny questioned, still sitting at the table with Oliver.
Oliver heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of her muffled voice. She was here, she was fine and he'd finally see her in a bit. He was happy, his intended fight with Ginny forgotten.
"Yeah…. One question though…. Why am I up here? I mean why am I not back at Oliver's place?"
Ginny creased her nose at that. "Honestly, no idea. You crawled out the fireplace at 2 the night before last. Even Harry came in late so we were up and came down to check. We put you to bed then."
"Okay.. Moving on.. Since I'm here, I'll just freshen up here and then leave, is that alright?"
"Of course! You don't need to ask Mione."
That was followed by some muffled sounds of scuffling around. Suddenly, Ginny's eyes sparked with mischief and Oliver knew whatever was coming their way was not gonna be appreciated by either him or his wife or them both.
"Hey Mione, since Harry's at work, may be could have a nice girl's chat of ours. It's been ages since we've had one of those."
"Uh hum… it has, hasn't it? So tell me, how are things going with Harry?"
Ginny rolled her eyes at that. "Mione the whole of wizarding Britain knows how my things are going with Harry. What we don't know is how our golden girl is doing with the ultimate and previously the most eligible bachelor in the UK, armed with a smile to kill."
Oliver's ears piqued up at that. He knew he shouldn't be doing it, but well, who could resist such an opportunity? And none of this is my doing anyway, he reasoned. So he just cocked his brow at Ginny as a silent rebuke and stayed mum to hear her reply.
"We're alright I guess."
Ginny pouted. "Come one give me more."
Hermione laughed. "What do you want to know Ginny? Are we alright? Yes, we are, seeing as we haven't killed each other yet," she laughed at her own joke. "He just… he's different now, you know. I don't know… I mean from what I read about him in the papers and those stupid witch weekly magazines of yours, he seemed to be having a temper to rival my own but he isn't that way with me. Well, most times at least, it's only when he won't give up on those damned flying lessons that we come close to hexing each other to oblivion! Otherwise he's more of the Oliver we've heard about from Hogwarts, you remember the one who tried to drown himself in the shower after Cedric caught the snitch back in my third year." She laughed at that image quite heartily Oliver thought amused. "May be its just the adrenaline rush during or after the games that gets him so worked up, he's otherwise pretty easy to hang out with, talk with, you know."
Ginny was giving a very knowing smile to Oliver just then, when Hermione again spoke from her room, "Ginny I'm just gonna hop in the shower now. We'll talk once I'm out. I'm ravenously hungry, do we have something to eat?"
"Yes, I've got the breakfast going, you come out and then we can eat."
"Great! I'll come out and get the tea going."
Ginny stiffened at that. "NO! No way. Like hell I'd have that ruddy concoction."
"Hey!" she screamed right back, "I resent that. I make it every day for Oliver and he does not complain. I think I'm getting rather better at it, cause trust me Oliver is not one to keep his opinions to himself."
"Hey you aren't throwing me any so I ain't not got to put up with that crap. And I bet you're blowing him under the table to make sure he finishes that thing you call t…"
"GINNY!" Hermione screeched and went silent! Oliver turned red in the face, refusing to even look at the ginger seated beside him.
"He.. I… Oh Merlin! I'll never be able to look at Oliver the same way again!" Hermione's faint mumbles could be heard.
"Why? You've been married for more than a month now. Don't tell me you haven't yet…" Ginny trailed off after seeing Oliver's stiff posture and Hermione's sudden silence. Oops! she thought.
"But… then…. What do you guys do then?" Ginny asked, now thoroughly confused, forgetting that the guy she was asking Hermione to describe her nocturnal activities with, was sitting right there beside her!
"I.. We.. Well.. You know… We.. uhm.. talk…."
Ginny snorted at that. "Yeah sure. Month long talks, with a hunk like that no less."
"No I mean… we… well… he's… he's very…. creative…. he probably has…. some… lots… of experience, I think," Hermione stammered and Ginny's brows disappeared in her hair, probably still forgetting the 6 footer beside her! And the 6 footer for his part sat smugly in his chair, way too pleased with himself just then.
"Wow!" Ginny fumbled, still lost in thought, "It's just so…. Wow.. for once I don't know what to say…"
"Yeah I know what you mean…. You know, sometimes I just feel bad for him…" before Oliver could process that, she started again, "It's just.. Ginny he's gorgeous! He's smoking hot, drop dead handsome, Merlin's own creation of perfection of mankind, a man specifically designed to reduce womenkind to a blubbering mass of nerves at his feet, take your pick," and Oliver felt way too happy at that too, now knowing his wife liked his body. "And then there's me. Of all the women he should have been able to pick from, he's stuck with me! He deserves so much more, Ginny. He is sweet, caring, loving, kind, understanding, passionate… He… he should've had his chance at a woman as beautiful as him, someone who would share his passion, his love for that god forsaken game he is giving his life to, someone who can cook him nice hot meals, someone who will enjoy flying with him, someone…" and Oliver had heard enough! He stood up and barged towards her room, pushing the door open.
"That's enough lass. We need to lea.." he froze. She was bent over the bed, back towards the door, wearing extremely short shorts and a Gryffindor quidditch jersey that said Weasley at the back. She turned to look at him and went rigid too. "Wh.. what are you doing here?" she finally asked after finding her voice.
"I was worried so I came asking for some information about your whereabouts and was told that you were right here. Come, let's leave Hermione. I've barely slept the last few days and I'm tired and I'm sure so are you," he said, standing by the door folding his hands over his chest, not trusting himself around her at the moment.
"But.. but I… she played me… you heard…" she mumbled, now pointing fingers between him and the room behind.
"Yes, she did and yes, I did. And I'm glad I did. I must be doing something wrong if you doubt yourself so much. Hermione, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and I'll readily spend my entire life to prove that to you. Now, can we please leave. Seeing you bent over like that is not doing any favors to my peace of mind right now," he said, forgetting for the time that they weren't alone. But Ginny did not hear, she had stepped into the kitchen to give them privacy for the showdown she was expecting to unfold just then.
Hermione stood frozen at that yet again.
Oliver ran a furious hand through his hair and looked intently at her, his eyes a dark pool. "Lass, if you don't want me to roger you right there where you're standing, start walking. Merlin knows, its either that or a quick way for me to burn out right now." She still remained where she was, brows furrowed as if thinking through something and then ran towards him, jumping into his arms, locking her ankles at his waist, hands entangled in his hair and kissing him with fervor. "Ginny we're leaving. I'll return your clothes next time. Thanks again," Hermione screamed for Ginny and apparated them both out to their place with a loud crack.
Once back at their own place, Oliver pulled her in closer, supporting her stance with a hand under her cute ass as he fisted his other hand in her hair bringing her closer for a deeper kiss and then alternately used it to repeatedly run it up and down her back.
"These are Ginny's?" he asked pulling at the hem of the jersey she was wearing, when they came up for air. Hermione nodded, bringing him in for a kiss again. Damn. He really wanted to rip it off her. Placing her on the nearest surface, the kitchen counter, he shrugged her out of Ginny's clothes and was shocked to see she wore nothing inside.
"Fuck Hermione," he growled pulling her back in for a kiss with a new urgency, devouring her mouth, hands on breast before moving down south to check for her readiness to take him in. Oh she is wet! Her feel around his fingers jolted straight to his center and he shoved off his jeans and boxers, as Hermione pulled at his t-shirt, nibbling at whatever skin of his she could find. Keeping her right there, sitting on the kitchen counter, he shoved himself straight in her core, locking her hands behind her, leaning them on the counter, he spoke in a gruff, aroused voice, "This is going to be hard and rough, but I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Let me know if you don't, okay?" She lifted her legs and locked them at his waist urging him on as a reply. He gave a devilish smirk at that and began a fast, demanding rhythm as he crashed his lips to hers and swallowed all her cries of pleasure, not letting her go even for a moment. He continued the kiss long after they'd both come down from their high, altering its hardness, making it slower, more languid and easy, as they both fought to regain their breaths, yet neither broke the kiss. Finally, too deprived for breath, they came up for air, chests heaving heavily when Oliver touched his forehead to hers and still had himself embedded deep within her, her walls still clutching him, milking him in even now.
"You're back! I was wondering when you'd get home," he whispered tenderly, albeit a bit breathlessly, her words from his first day back from work that first Monday after their wedding, while lovingly rubbing his thumb against the apple of her right cheek. "How was your trip dear? Everything worked all right?" he asked, still looking down into her eyes. She'd not quite caught her breath yet but he saw her eyes change their color from almost black to liquid caramel. "I think I'm just gonna sit here looking stumped while you keep guessing at all the things that might have gone wrong with me," she replied breathlessly and then threw her head back and laughed. Now there's life back in the house, he smiled.
!
He invested his Saturday in her – talking, listening, playing, reading and walking around the different paths at their estate, immersing himself in her company. In the evening he took her out flying on his best broom to watch the sunset over the hills. She tried to strike out more deals with him and then gave up and buried her face in his chest, crumping his t-shirt's collar. He smiled fondly at the familiar action and kissed her to make her look up and then they ended up kissing all through the sunset when she returned his kisses. They didn't even make it back to the house after that. He flew them down to an alcove near the stream that ran through the estate. They reached their house hours later, walking together with hands nestling on each-others backs, heads resting a little on one another.
On Sunday, she did not say a word about going to the Burrow and he did not ask, not ready to share her with any one so soon. By Sunday afternoon he noticed her sending subtle glares his way. He let it slip the first few times, perplexed about her mood. Finally, in the evening when he was nursing his tea, she skipped the subtly and started glaring openly at him.
"What?!" he asked flippantly, flustered at her behavior while replaying their two short days together in his mind to check if he'd done something wrong. He came up empty.
"Don't you dare 'what' me! You know exactly what is happening," she threw at him angrily.
Thoroughly confused, he pinned her with his angry gaze, "Do you care to explain?"
"The question here is Oliver - do you care to explain? Or do I need to go to Flourish and Bolts?"
Flourish and Bolts? "What are you on about?" he was so at the end of his teethers!
"You know what I'm on about! You sat through the entire conversation pretty silently yesterday. Now tell me, are you going to teach me or do I need to go buy books to learn it?"
"Again, rein in those damn thoughts of yours and get explaining lass."
"Oliver," she fixed him with a pointed gaze and then moved it south staring meaningfully at his crotch and then brought it up again, hands folded in front of her chest, bringing her breast heaving forward, stretching the soft material of her t-shirt. "Now, tell me, are you going to teach me or not?"
He was confused for all of 30 seconds before comprehension hit him and turned him into a stammering mess. "You… you mean.. you want to…..? Really?"
"What do you think? You know I want to! We always try everything I read or hear! Now tell me - what am I to do with you?"
He sat frozen, for once unsure how to go about things. "You really want to?" he asked her huskily.
She nodded. "Will you tell me what to do? I don't know…much," she replied, looking up at him shyly, hooding her eyes almost immediately.
I'm married to a dynamite! he realized dazedly, still staring at her, thanking the ministry yet again for blessing him with her. "Come on Oliver, please. Don't make me beg."
That brought him out of his stupor. "You're just….amazing, you know that," he said pulling her onto his lap. She stayed there for a few moments, enjoying having him all around her but then she got off and pulled at his hand leading him near the fireplace and pushed him on the couch across it, devesting him in the process. She knelt on the floor in front of him, placing an arm across his thighs and then tucking her head on it as she drew soft patterns on the thigh she was facing.
She's waiting for me to come to my senses, he realized. "You don't have to do this you know, I don't mind," he whispered gruffly.
She still continued with her patterns, "I…. I really want to." Then with a little more confidence, "I want to taste you Oliver."
He fisted his hands to his sides and spent the next 10 minutes explaining to her exactly how to do what and what he liked most. She learned real quick and had him groaning and panting her name and coming in no time. He closed his eyes as he came, laying his head on the couch's head rest, fisting a hand in her hair, gently massaging her scalp with his thumb. She still held him firmly in her hands. "I wonder how… how you taste..." he heard her whisper and suddenly she was bent on him, licking him clean. He growled at that and brought her up to him. "You're gonna kill me someday, you know that?" he huffed gruffly and brought her mouth to his, tasting him on her, sniffing himself on her. He rolled her on the couch beside him, devesting her and brought his tongue to her core, holding her legs high up in the air as he hungrily lapped her up, nibbling and biting her tender folds and her sensitive nub as she came. "Oliver.." she gasped and tugged at his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. She enfolded him in a hug and they stayed like that on the couch for a long time.