CHAPTER ELEVEN
Summary: With the War finally won and a rapid decline in the wizarding population, drastic measures are taken in a bid to save Wizarding Britain with the introduction of a new Marriage Law. Under the law, Hermione is forced to marry at eighteen or face being exiled from the Wizarding World. She must learn to deal with her past and look forward to her future with rising Quidditch Star, Oliver Wood. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: All original characters and canon events belong to J.K. Rowling. Non-canon events and characters are my own. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic. Characters are likely to be OOC.
Updated: 19/11/19
Page count: 23
Wood Apartment – Sunday 12th July 1998
With her hair piled on top of her head in a mass of curls that was secured in place by her wand, sporting an overly large t-shirt, denim shorts and converse clad feet, Hermione found herself with a paintbrush in hand as she painted the left side wall of the living area a pale blue whilst Oliver filled up the paint tray and grabbed a roller, clad in a t-shirt, jeans and trainers, clothing he wouldn't mind getting dirty or ruined.
"Why're we doin' this the muggle way?" He questioned as she sat the paint tray on top of a stool Hermione'd transfigured from a kitchen chair.
"Because this is the fun way," she replied. "There's no fun in magically charming the walls to be whichever colour you wish or magically applying the paint, and also, the charms soon wear off and have to be recast, this is longer lasting even if it takes a little more time and effort."
She placed her paintbrush down before quickly showing him how to evenly distribute the paint using the rolled and once she handed it back to him, she summoned her MP3 player and placed a Sonorous Charm around it so it could be better heard.
"Where's Quaffle?" She asked him whilst her attention was on searching through her playlist.
"Last a saw, he was on the balcony rollin' 'round an' eating somethin' tha' looked like a bunny," he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
"What!" Hermione cried, dropping the MP3 player onto the stool and darting over to the balcony with Oliver following after her amused.
"Quaffle, bad puppy," she scolded, crossing through the door and reaching for the rabbit he held in his mouth. She tugged but he wouldn't let go. "Quaffle, let go!" She pulled once more but he didn't listen or loosen his grip. She looked over her shoulder, seeing Oliver leaning against the door frame, his amusement with the situation unmasked. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"What'd a get if a help?" He teased.
"How about I don't put a Laxative Potion in your lunch?" She scowled at him.
He chuckled as he pushed himself away from the door frame and approached them, Hermione stepping aside to give him more room and he reached for the rabbit, tugging on it.
"Quaffle, let go," Oliver said as he pulled the rabbit but Quaffle growled playfully. "Quaffle, am not playing, let go."
"You heard him, Quaffle, let go," Hermione said lightly.
Without warning, Quaffle released the rabbit and Oliver lost his balance and fell backwards, landing on his back on the grass as Hermione burst into laughter and Quaffle barked.
"Are you okay?" She asked through laughter.
"Did ye plan tha'?" He asked suspiciously.
"No, I swear I didn't. I didn't think he'd listen to me," she defended, offering her hand and helping him to stand before taking the rabbit from him. "Oh, Harold, look at you," Hermione sighed, seeing that one of his ears was hanging off and he was missing an eye that was on the floor and she picked it up.
"Wait, tha's Harold? Ye still have him?" Oliver arched an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, and I know for a fact that you still have that blanket so don't even go there with me."
"Hoo'd ye know?" He asked, looking a little embarrassed.
"You just told me," she smirked.
He grumbled beneath his breath, following her back into the apartment whilst Hermione cast a quick Reparo, fixing Harold's eye and ear before sending it back to her room. Whilst Quaffle remained on the balcony, Oliver and Hermione returned to their tasks of painting.
"I don't even know how he found him, he was in my wardrobe," she sighed and he snorted at her. She picked up her MP3 player and pressed play, the Spice Girls playing through the speaker as Oliver looked to her, puzzled. "Muggle music, this is the Spice Girls, the ultimate girl band."
As she was painting Oliver kept stealing glances at her as she mumbled the words to the song and subtly danced, but when Hermione's words grew louder startled in surprise before laughing at her.
"So here's a story from A to Z, you wanna get with me you gotta listen carefully. We got Em in the place who likes it in your face, we got G like MC who likes it on an Easy V doesn't come for free, she's a real lady, and as for me, ha you'll see. Slam your body down and wind it all around. Slam your body down and wind it all around and zigazig ah."
Seeming to come back to herself, her dancing and singing trailed off and she blushed furiously as Oliver applauded in amusement, Hermione thanking him and bowing much like Fred and George.
"Yer right, this is a lot more fun than doin' it magically," he commented.
"And you doubted me," she snorted.
The song changed to Brittney Spears, Hit Me Baby One More Time with Hermione singing and dancing along to the tune.
"This song?" He enquired after in intrigue.
"Brittney Spears, an up and coming muggle artist," she answered.
As they continued with their tasks, they hummed, danced and sang along to the music until they'd painted what they could reach, and at that, Hermione charmed the roller and paintbrush to finish the rest whilst she and Oliver made a start on the right side wall, just as the song changed to another.
"I love this song" she exclaimed excitedly and he snorted at her in amusement. "You are my fire, the one desire, believe when I say, I want it that way. But we are two worlds apart, can't reach to your heart, when you say, that I want it that way. Tell me why, ain't nothin' but a heartache, tell me why, ain't nothin' but a mistake. Tell me why, I never wanna hear you say, I want it that way."
"Ye know, yer quite good," Oliver spoke thoughtfully.
"At painting? Well, I've had plenty of practice over the years. My mother had a habit of redecorating the kitchen and living room every couple of years."
He chuckled at her. "Naw, a mean yer quite good at singin," he complimented.
"I'm alright," she muttered embarrassedly.
Sometime during their tasks, a paint fight had broken out with blue paint splatters covering their clothing, hair, faces, hands and arms and Hermione's legs, too. When the charmed roller and paintbrush were completing the last of the wall, Hermione summoned the cushions they'd recently bought and she charmed them from white to pale blue before positioning them on the couch, corner suite and armchair, stepping back to admire her work. Once that had been done, she stepped into the kitchen to prepare a quick lunch and Oliver followed her.
"Do you have any spare jerseys, Puddlemere and Gryffindor?" She asked him as she busied herself with cleaning up the table.
"Why?" He cocked an eyebrow. Secretly, he hoping she wanted to know so she could wear them but he wasn't going to admit that to her.
"I want to know, answer the question," she rolled her eyes.
"Aye, a have a few," he nodded.
"Great, get them for them, one of each should do it."
He gave her an odd look but he did summon one of each from his bedroom, handing them to her once he'd caught them and she headed into the living room. When he walked in, it was to the sight of Hermione duplicating the jerseys and placing the copies into two large photo frames before they were levitated onto the walls, his Gryffindor jersey being placed in the centre of the left wall and his Puddlemere jersey in the centre of the right wall, held in place with Sticking Charm.
"That's why," she grinned as she sent the original jerseys back to his bedroom and he looked at her, both speechless and confused. "What? You should be proud of what you've achieved and it should be showcased. Now, where's the camera I gave you?" She asked, which is soon summoned and handed to her. She cast the spell to have all the photos developed into moving photographs and then she sat down on the couch, pulling Oliver to sit beside her.
"When did ye buy all af these?" He gestured to the large selection of photo frames covering the corner suite with a wave of his hand.
"When I asked you to get the paint. Anyway, we need to go through these and decide which ones you think should be framed," she said, showing him the stack of developed photos taken whilst they'd been at Flamingo Land. "I like this one," she mused, showing him the one they'd bought when they went on the Wild Mouse. Even though there was no sound or movement, Oliver's terror was evident as was Hermione's joy and laughter.
"Not a chance," he deadpanned.
"I like it," Hermione frowned.
"Well, then a like this one," he spoke, flipping through the collection and offering the photo he'd taken after he and Hermione had just raced down the slide and Hermione was doing a victory dance.
"Then I like this one," she argued, selecting the photo where he looked completely surprised as a seal lion kissed him on the cheek.
In the end, they put the majority of the photographs in photo frames -including the embarrassing ones- and they placed them around the room on the walls, making the apartment actually look lived in rather than it was an open tour for buying. They'd even placed some of the photos down in the corridors that led to the spare bedrooms and Hermione and Oliver's bedrooms.
"I think we're done for the day," Hermione announced as she looked around the room proudly. "What do you think?"
"A like it, it doesn't seem as bare," he mused.
"See, all you need is a tin of paint, a few photo frames and a few cushions to completely transform a room." She glanced down at herself, spying the blotches of blue paint. "I hope I can get this out," she sighed.
"Whose shirt is tha' anyway?" Oliver asked, seeing it was far too big to be her own.
"George's," she shrugged, missing the look of jealousy that crossed his face. "So, now that we're done, can we go to the lake?" She asked excitedly and he chuckled.
"Don' we have tae have dinner at the Burrow first?" He reminded her, chuckling when a frown of disappointment settled on her face.
"Dinner at the Burrow and then the lake?"
~000~000~000~
Wood Manor
Hermione and Oliver lay on a blanket side by side as they stared up at the sky, Quaffle being preoccupied with chasing birds through the grass and prancing through the lake bed.
"Are ye gunna tell mae what Coach was talking aboot yesterday?"
"Oh, that, it doesn't matter," Hermione dismissed.
"It seemed tae matter tae Coach," he pressed.
"It's not important,"
"Jus' tell mae," he rolled his eyes. "Don' make mae tickle ye," he threatened, rolling onto his side and propping himself up on his elbow until he was looking down at her.
"He was curious to know if I had a job as he'd like me to help him with the team, at which, I said I'll talk to you about it and see what I could do in regards to my hours at the shop. Last night, I came up with a design for some new practice robes for the team that would be more suitable for its purpose. The robes you have now are rubbish; they're made of a too heavy material, they aren't water-resistant and I suspect your gloves are worn down and losing their grip, which is highly dangerous. I sent the designs off to someone I know and they're going to have them made up and sent to me. If they prove to be successful, I'll see about designing some new game robes, too," she rambled nervously, her eyes avoiding him and missing the smile that graced his face.
"Hermione, calm doon," he chuckled and she looked at him, relieved to see that he wasn't angry.
"You're not mad?" She frowned in confusion.
"Why would a be mad?" He arched an eyebrow.
"I'm likely to be at the stadium more often and I'll be in your way, I don't want to but in on your job."
He shook his head amused. "Ye won't be in me way; ye'd be making the team better with tha' insanely clever brains af yers. Coach owled mae last night, he mentioned tha' ye'd identified nearly thirty weaknesses in the team an' tha' was befere training stopped 'coz af the war. It's likely worse now an' a suspect tha' ye know hoo tae fix them," he said and he chuckled when she nodded embarrassedly. "Ye won't be 'butting in' on me job as ye put it; ye'll be helping mae tae do me job by getting the team ready fer game season."
"It might not even happen, it's just a possibility," she muttered.
"Then why're ye worrying?" He asked amused.
"I don't know," she mumbled with a shrug of her shoulders. "Are those women at the stadium always so..." She paused for a moment, trying to find a suitable word. "Mean?" She settled on.
He snorted, plenty of other less friendly words coming to mind.
"Aye," he said without hesitation. "Particularly the girlfriends af the starting players. They look doon on the wives af the reserves 'coz they don't get as much playtime an' they get a lower wage, but aye, they're spiteful tae everyone. The wives aren't far behind them either; they're just as malicious when they wanna be."
Hermione sighed, a hand coming up to rub over her face tiredly before dropping back to her stomach. "I'm not going to fit in with them; I don't wear the clothes they do and I definitely don't wear those heels they had on; I fall over in bare feet," she grouched and he chuckled at her. "And you think a Balancing Charm would stop you from falling, it doesn't."
He snorted, giving his head a light shake. "As far as am concerned, yer exactly what a Quidditch wife should be. At least ye can tell the difference between a quaffle an' a bludger," he mused and laughed lightly. "At least ye know what position a play, most af those women cannae tell ye what position their partners play. So stop worrying."
She slowly nodded, nibbling at her lip thoughtfully. "I may have to change the way I dress."
He frowned. "Why?"
"They asked me if you'd hired me," she grimaced, shifting uncomfortably. "There must obviously be something wrong with the way I dress for them to come to that conclusion."
"There's nothing wrong with the way ye dress, tha' belt yer wearing is bigger than some af the dresses a've seen them wear, so they have naw room tae talk. Ye shouldn't care aboot what people think."
"I don't give a fever fudge about what people think of me, I'm more worried about the impact it'll have on you. And, I can't be bothered with the bullying and petty comments. I suffered years of bullying for my appearance, my friendship groups, my blood status and my house affiliations. I fought in a war so that people could have their freedom but I didn't do it so people like those women could walk around and belittle everyone they come into contact with."
Oliver's mouth tugged into a smile. "When ye told Malloy's girlfriend tha' she looked like a greased up baby with wrinkles, well, it was the best thing a've ev'r heard in me life," he chuckled. "The look on her face was priceless. You can handle the vultures," she said, pride evident in his voice and blushed under his praise.
Her eyes softened and her blush darkened as their gazes locked and Oliver's head slowly lowered until their lips met, Hermione's arms folding around his neck and her hands carding through his soft hair. Oliver's free hands moved to Hermione's waist, his fingers tracing patterns over the thin fabric of her paint-covered shirt. When Oliver's tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip, Hermione released a sigh before parting her mouth for him, her tongue greeting his.
With her hold on him, Hermione tugged Oliver closer to her and Oliver, thrilled with the development, shifted his body until he was kneeling above her, one of his knees resting in-between both of hers and his hands pressed flat against the ground on either side of her head. When Hermione released a soft moan and tugged at his hair, he replied with a groan, only to be surprised when she tugged him closer until his body pressed her into the ground and then she rolled them until she was straddling his lap.
Despite being surprised with the turn of events, he was pleased nonetheless and he allowed Hermione to take control as he trailed his hands up and down her sides, making sure to keep them above her clothing and he willed himself to stay in control; it wouldn't do good to scare her with the wand in his trousers. Oliver pushed himself up into a seating position and wrapped his arms around Hermione, holding Hermione to him. He knew that he would never find anything better than the feeling of Hermione being pressed tightly against his body, well except for when...
They broke apart when Quaffle bounded over to them and shook himself, sending water flying over them and they laughed in disbelief. Oliver looked to Hermione and she'd never looked more beautiful; covered in paint, her lips puffy, her chest heaving and her cheeks filled with a pretty pink blush.
At that moment he knew, he wasn't falling for Hermione Granger, he'd already fallen for her, maybe even from the moment he'd set eyes on her for the first time in Fred and George's flat.
He loved her.
Coming to that conclusion, he knew it was best not to change his behaviour as he didn't want to tip her off to his true feelings. Not yet, he didn't want to scare her or make her feel as though she had to love him out of obligation or guilt. He wanted her to love him because she wanted to and she did.
As they gazed at one another before Hermione tipped her forehead to press against his, her eyes closed and a smile on her lips, they both missed the photographer flying off with a camera in hand and a smirk on his face.
~000~000~000~
Puddlemere United Stadium - Monday 13th July 1998
Oliver floo'd to the stadium with Quaffle obediently by his side and they quickly made their way down the corridor, through reception and down the stands to the Coach's box without interruption.
"Wood, glad to see you brought him with you," Coach Burton greeted, lowering his hand to scratch Quaffle's head.
"So, Wood," Bishop practically purred, his eyes alight with mischief and a smirk tugging at his mouth. "How is the lovely Hermione? Have you gotten closer lately?"
"Do we need to hose you down every time you're in the same room together?" Pallie mused, the team sharing a laugh.
"Maybe we should keep them separate, this is a public place, after all," Kings commented innocently.
"What the hell are ye idiots on aboot?" Oliver grumbled, his confusion clear for everyone to see.
It was at that point, the same thought flittered through their heads. He hasn't seen the morning Daily Prophet.
"Now that everyone's finally here, continue with the drills from Saturday," Coach ordered.
It was an hour and a half later and after countless innuendos and comments that Oliver didn't understand when they received an unexpected visitor.
~000~000~000~
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
Hermione entered the flat without Quaffle by her side and she made her way down the stairs, grabbing her robes from the hook and slipping them on over her clothes. That morning her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and she wore a white long-sleeved t-shirt that was tucked into a mid-thigh length black pleated skirt and a pair of black suede wedges covered her feet. As she stepped out from behind the magenta velvet curtain and onto the shop floor, the twins were beside her instantly, mischievous smirks held on their faces.
"Hello there, Mia, you're looking lovely this morning. -" Fred started.
"- And how is your morning going?" George asked, wriggling his eyebrows.
"Fine, yours?" She replied, eyeing them strangely.
"Brilliant," they chorused.
"Where's Quaffle?" Fred asked.
"Coach Burton has formed an attachment to him, Oliver is taking him to training with him," she answered and they chuckled.
"Well, speaking of Oliver -"
"- How are things going with him?" Fred asked.
"Alright,"
"Just alright or more than alright?" George asked.
"Things are going well. Why?"
"No reason," they said innocently before leaving her side and ducking behind the curtain into the back room.
"She doesn't know?" Fred said quietly, taking care that Hermione didn't hear them.
"Obviously she hasn't seen the newspaper this morning," George muttered, knowing Hermione would either be mortified or furious and giving her completely calm and puzzled reaction, it was evident she had yet to see that morning's article.
They startled when they heard several bangs, crashes and a loud shriek and they were quick to return to the shop floor, stepping into a smoke-filled room with products in disarray on the floor and Hermione could be see sprawled on the ground and pinned beneath a broken shelf. Horrified, they darted forward, lifting the shelf off her and helping her to stand, not releasing her until they were sure she'd gotten her balance.
"Are you okay?" George asked worriedly.
"I'm fine," she coughed, rubbing at her chest.
"What happened?" Fred questioned, his eyes darting between her and the mess.
"Some idiot's messed with the firework display, I went to right it before opening but they activated and..." She gestured about the room with an evidential wave of her hand. "Created this mess," she finished with a sigh. "Sorry boys, I should've been more careful. Just take any damages out of my wages.
"Don't be stupid, Mia," George scoffed.
"It wasn't your fault, the fireworks will only go off if they've been activated and since someone messed with the display, I'd say that's the case. We should've checked them after closing last night, it's our fault and we're not taking anything from your wages," Fred spoke with a nod of agreement from George.
"We're going to have to open up later than usual so we can get this mess cleaned up, even with the aid of magic it'll take a while," Hermione sighed.
Her day was off to a great start and it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet. Surely things couldn't possibly get worse.
The shop was opened to allow Verity and Lee access and once the recent happenings had been explained, they each set to cleaning the shop, focusing on their designated tasks. Two and half hours later, they had the shop floor cleaned, repairs completed and the displays righted and the doors were finally opened half an hour before lunch, only for something they hadn't expected to occur.
Whilst the twins opened the shop and Lee and Verity got into place, Hermione made her way to the back of the shop to start working on products but she halted in her steps when she heard loud shouts.
"HOW DARE YOU MARRY OLIVER?"
"HE'S MINE!"
"HE'S GOING TO MARRY ME!"
"HE LOVES ME, NOT YOU!"
Before Hermione had the chance to turn around, pull her wand and defend herself, she was hit with several curses and hexes, the force of which sent her tumbling to the ground. A pained groan slipped from her lips and her eyes watered as she twisted to look over her shoulder, seeing a large group of witches, maybe fifty or so, all glaring at her and yelling. And each of them were clad in Oliver's jersey or a t-shirt that his name or face printed on it. His fans.
Fred, George, Lee and Verity all had their wands out and were trying to push everyone out of the shop but six witches broke through and Hermione was overcrowded, being punched, kicked and slapped before they were pulled away from her long enough to get Hermione free.
"LEE, GET HERMIONE OUT OF HERE!" Fred yelled, as Lee helped Hermione to her feet and guided her behind the magenta curtain.
"AND FLOO CALL THE AURORS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT!" George's voice carried as he cast a Protego to shield against a hex sent Hermione's way.
Lee was quick but careful as he helped Hermione up the stairs into the twins' flat, leading her over to the fireplace.
"You should go to the stadium, you'll be safe there, they have better security and they'll have a healer."
~000~000~000~
Puddlemere United Stadium
Hermione stepped out of the floo at the stadium and silently limped down the corridor and towards the door that led to the Coach's box, walking back a group of women, the reserves wives, as she did so but she ignored their presence and their words.
"Nice of you to introduce yourself to us on Saturday," one said sarcastically. "I'm Ashley. What are you doing here? How rude, well it is to be expected from her kind."
As Hermione made it halfway down the stands, Quaffle ran towards her, his loud barks attracting the attention of the players and Coach.
"Hey, Wood, I think it's Hermione!" Thompson called from the other side of the pitch.
"Get the hose!" Wilks shouted, laughter carrying through the wind.
But Oliver hadn't been paying attention to their words, his eyes narrowing and his stomach knotting anxiously as he stared down at the ground, seeing Coach Burton approaching Hermione quickly, too quickly for there not to be something wrong. He'd never seen him move so fast.
Oliver was quick to descend from the air, dismounting his broom before his feet had barely touched the ground and he had the breath knocked out of him when his eyes locked on Hermione. She was being helped down the stands by Coach Burton, it being obvious she was favouring one leg over the other, her frame was littered with bleeding cuts and boils, bruises could be seen beginning to form, her hair was messy and knotted and she had her arms wrapped around her stomach protectively as she hunched over on herself.
"Hermione!" He breathed out in horror, dropping his broom the ground and running over to her, falling to his knees before her as Coach Burton helped her to sit.
"What happened?" He asked her, her face in his hands. But she ignored him. "Sparrow, what happened?" He repeated, but she didn't answer him, she was looking straight at him but her eyes were unfocused, dazed. "Get the healer now!" Oliver ordered no one in particular, hearing footsteps against the stands. "She's not talkin' tae mae. Why isnae she talkin' tae mae?" Oliver questioned, feeling the panic rise within him.
"She's in shock; whatever happened caused her to go into shock."
Oliver darted a glance over his shoulder, surprised to see his teammates with matching looks of worry. When did they get here?
"Hoo do a break her oot af it?" He asked, once more looking at Hermione.
"Keep her warm and talk to her."
Without thought, Coach Burton removed his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders.
"Sparrow? Sparrow, talk tae mae," he muttered. When there was no response, verbal or otherwise, he leaned forward and whispered desperately into her ear. "Sparrow, come back tae mae. Please, a need ye," he begged.
He pulled back from her, his chest tightening painfully and his throat burning as he found it hard to breathe. He kept his eyes on her face, watching for any sign that she'd heard him and a few moments later, Hermione slowly blinked, once, twice, three times, her eyes coming back into focus and instantly locking gazes with him.
"Oliver?" She questioned quietly, sounding puzzled.
"Aye, it's mae," he said softly, his thumbs sweeping over her cheekbones. "What happened, Sparrow?"
Her eyes fell downcast and a frown pulled at her brow when she saw her injuries.
"Someone had messed with the fireworks display the day before. When I was righting it, they activated and destroyed half the shop floor. We opened later than usual, it took us a while to get the mess cleaned up and the shop back to rights. When the twins opened up to the public, I was on product duty so I had my back turned as I made my way to the workroom and before I knew it, there was yelling and hexes and cursing. The shop was crowded with witches, they had your name of faces on their clothing," she said, as if in a daze and Oliver felt his anger building as a less than pleased sound rumbled in the back of his throat, his protectiveness towards Hermione flaring up. "I didn't have time to defend myself, some of them broke through the twins' attempts to herd them out of the shop and they jumped me before Lee broke me free and took me to the floo. He told me to come here, he said I'd be safe here," she finished quietly.
"Yer safe here, a promise," Oliver said softly, his thumbs continuing with the comforting sweep over her cheekbones.
At that point, the healer arrived and approached with his wand in hand but he wasn't able to get any closer as Quaffle growled at him, stood beside him and before Hermione protectively.
"He's not gunna hurt her," Oliver told the overprotective dog, who soon calmed and allowed the healer to kneel down before Hermione and beside Oliver, watching him cautiously.
"I'm going to give you a pain potion," the healer informed her, his hand mid-way to digging into his robe pocket.
"NO!" Hermione and Oliver called simultaneously, their observers startling at the sudden exclamation as they watched them in surprise and intrigue.
"Sorry, but no, no pain potions," Hermione said quietly, calmly, the healer gracing her with a funny look but he otherwise nodded.
"Can you tell me what happened?" He asked as he began to heal the injuries on her face first, focusing on the boils before he moved onto the cuts.
"I was attacked; hexes, curses, punched, kicked and slapped," she said tiredly, not seeing Oliver's look of rage.
"I've healed the cuts and taken care of the boils, but the bruises I'll only be able to lessen the time it will take to heal them."
"Just leave them; Fred and George Weasley have a paste that'll take care of them."
He eyed her curiously but otherwise went about casting diagnostic charms, checking for internal injuries, anything he may have missed and searching for potential side effects of the curses, of which, he cast the Counter Charms for anyway as a precaution. When he was satisfied with Hermione's health, he took his leave.
With him gone, Hermione reached for her wand in her robe pocket and then muttered, "Expecto Patronum."
A majestic blue-silver misty lion erupted from the tip of her wand, settling on the ground before her obediently. She heard gasps and murmurs of surprise and Oliver stared at the lion in awe, it wasn't the first time he had seen it, but still, it impressed him.
"Fred, George, when you have time will you send over some Bruise Removal Paste, please? I hope everything's been dealt with and that you're all alright," she spoke before sending the lion off with the message, releasing a tired sigh afterwards. "I don't understand why this happened. We haven't told anyone, the whole point was to keep us a secret for as long as possible"
There was a throat-clearing that drew her attention and she looked to the team expectantly when they shared a glance.
"You haven't seen this morning's Prophet, have you?" Pallie questioned, both she and Oliver frowning and shaking their heads.
"We were running late," Hermione explained.
"I think I know why," Thompson spoke as he summoned that morning's newspaper from the locker room, catching it and holding it out to Hermione as he stepped closer, she and Oliver both peering down at it.
Hermione Granger to wed Oliver Wood!
By Rita Skeeter
Wedding bells are ringing as we at the Daily Prophet have recently discovered that Hermione Granger, 18, third member of the Golden Trio and employee at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop, and Oliver Wood, 22, Quidditch Star and Puddlemere United Captain are set to wed.
A source in the Ministry of Magic has confirmed that both Miss. Granger and Mr. Wood were matched after a series of complicated enchantments were carried out as required by the recent Marriage Law that has rocked Wizarding Britain. Their wedding details have been filed and we here at the Daily Prophet, have learned that they are set to marry Thursday 30th July. One can only assume how Mr. Wood is taking to have to marry and lose his title as one of Britain's most eligible bachelors, and for such a plain girl, too. We wonder what measures Mr. Wood will be undertaking in order to ensure his husbandly duties are completed as the Marriage Law requires a child to be sired within the time frame of one year, and it is clear to see that Miss. Granger is quite average in appearance, when there are certainly better-suited witches to match with the handsome Quidditch Star.
But whatever he is using seems to be working and we only hope he can keep it up, physically and metaphorically. Better yet, that he finds his way out of the law and be re-matched with someone more suitable for being a Quidditch wife and marrying someone of his status.
It is unknown what has happened with the disappearance of Harry Potter 'the boy who conquered', his best friend, Ronald Weasley, and his girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley, but I wouldn't be surprised if Miss. Granger had something to do with it. It has been speculated that Miss. Granger had once been in a relationship with Ronald Weasley, a relationship that turned sour, and hell hath no fury like a witch scorned. Miss. Granger's temper is famously known and has been the topic of conversation for a long time, so it would be no surprise should evidence arise that would suspect foul play. We just hope the same fate doesn't befall the handsome Oliver Wood.
Beneath the article sat a number of photographs, one taken of Hermione during the only appearance she made to the Ministry after the war, one of Oliver smiling whilst he was flying his broom and the final photo of Oliver and Hermione at the lake the previous night, with Hermione straddling him as they kissed.
"How did they even know we were there?" Hermione asked, sounding both confused and upset.
Oliver's fury wasn't well hidden. The entire article existed only to slander Hermione, make him out to be the victim and to place the blame of the outcome of the law and the trio's disappearance on her.
"Get them over here now," Oliver ordered in a cold, dangerous tone, rising to his feet slowly.
"Who?" Fox asked confused.
"Them," Oliver gestured to the family box with a tip of his head and a narrowed gaze, each member of the team sharing a worried glance before they traipsed off to retrieve their significant others. Oliver knelt down in front of her and reached out, taking her hands in his. "Look, Sparrow, anno they weren't very kind but ye cannae let them get tae ye," he said softly, expecting for her to be upset but that couldn't have been farther from the truth. Her face was turning red and the air around them seemed to crackle.
"That bitch!" She growled. Oliver's eyes widened in surprise at the use of language.
Hermione sprang from her sitting position, Coach Burton's jacket falling off her shoulders and onto the floor and she paced back and forth, Oliver watching her carefully.
"What's happening?" Kings asked, approaching with the rest of the team and their witches.
"A think yer aboot tae Hermione Granger's temper, hell, am aboot tae witness her temper, an' it's been known tae make grown men cower in fear," Oliver answered, his eyes firmly on Hermione and not noticing Fred and George's appearance, and from Hermione's behaviour, they knew she'd seen the article.
"She can't be mad about the photos," Briggs commented.
"Did ye actually read the article?"
"No," he frowned, reaching for it and many of them crowded around before it was passed around the group.
"Never mind," Kelsy muttered.
"How dare she?! How bloody dare she, Oliver?! What a bitch! I'm sick and tired of the old hag! I warned her that if she ever crossed me again, I'd make her pay! And what does she do?! She goes and fucking crosses me! She isn't going to know what's hit her! By the time I'm through with her, she won't even remember her own name!"
Oliver's jaw was slack in surprise, he and the others staring as big and bright golden sparks crackled in her hair, floating down to settle on the ground.
"How dare she intrude on our privacy?! Not to mention, trespassing! I'm going to find the name of the photographer and have him castrated!" She fumed, all of the males present wincing and shifting uncomfortably. "Didn't I tell you the Ministry was corrupt?! Someone accessed our confidential file and sold the information to Skeeter! Skeeter of all people! And who the hell told where we were going to be?! No one knew! And to make me out to be the bad guy is the absolute fucking cherry on the cake! I'm not the one forcing people to marry! It's archaic and barbaric! After everything I've done, if she thinks that she's safe, she couldn't be any farther from the truth!"
She halted in her pacing, her hands balled into fists, her breathing heavy and her face flushed red as her hair ceased in its sparking.
"It's coming," George said to Fred, everyone seeming to startle at the sound of his voice in the otherwise silence.
"When did ye get here?" Oliver asked bemused.
"Just before that started," he tipped his head towards Hermione.
"What's coming?"
"The rants over, her hair isn't sparking anymore and she's quiet, too quiet, it's about to happen," Fred answered before he and George crossed over to Hermione, tugging her shaking form against hem and hugging her tightly as her hands bunched into their robes and she burst into tears.
Oliver was surprised, to say the least, but he knew the twins knew what Hermione needed better than he did at that point, but in time, he would learn to understand what Hermione needed. Happy she was being well cared for, he turned his back to them, facing his teammates and their partners, his eyes narrowing and his body stiffening as he felt his anger make a reappearance.
"Someone told the Prophet aboot mine an' Hermione's wedding. As a result, she was attacked by a large group af me fan girls at her place of work an' she was injured," Oliver said, his cold eyes menacing. "A wanna know who it is an' a wanna know now."
His eyes automatically settled on the group of woman, already knowing his teammates wouldn't breach his or Hermione's privacy in that way, it was the number one rule within the team. Never speak to the press about the private life of another teammate.
As his eyes narrowed suspiciously and carefully scanned the faces and body language of each of the woman before him, his gaze halted on one witch in particular, instant dislike welling within him and a sense of knowing it was her.
"Ye, it was ye," he scowled knowingly. "Ye told me personal information tae the press. Yer banned from the premises, from all home games an' yer tae never again come intae contact with mae Hermione."
"You can't do that!" Melanie shrieked angrily whilst Malloy looked very much like he wanted to throw up and bury his head in a deep hole in the ground.
"Yes, he can" Coach Burton interrupted with Quaffle stood by his side, growling and baring his teeth. "You're to do everything he says and the big bosses won't be happy to hear you've been giving out the whereabouts of our players to the press and I now know it was you who was leaking our plays to opposing teams."
Oliver's eyes darted down to Quaffle when he saw the dog visibly sniffing at the air before seeming to recoil, something Oliver had seen the dog do when he didn't like the smell of something. His eyes narrowed, being reminded of the incident that had taken place but a couple of days prior.
"Are ye wearing coconut oil?" He asked, his tone cold and dangerous as Quaffle released a bark of confirmation.
Melanie opened her mouth to reply but never had the chance as she was unexpectedly hit by a spell that whizzed over Oliver's shoulder, the witch releasing a loud scream as she stumbled about in her heels whilst being attacked by flying snot-bats. Oliver peered over his shoulder to see Hermione slipping her wand back into her robe pockets before she silently wiped her face free of her tears.
Oliver's mouth tugged into an amused smile. "A think tha's me new favourite spell," Oliver commented lightly, Hermione giving him a watery laugh as the twins beamed with pride.
From the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed Hannah -who was engaged to Wilks- pulling her wand from her bag and she quickly intervened.
"Avis, Oppungo," she muttered, a flock of bright yellow canaries erupting from her wand and circling Hannah as the witch screamed and cried hysterically. "Expelliarmus," she disarmed Victoria -who was engaged to Kings- before narrowing her eyes. "I think you're forgetting who you're dealing with. Unlike you, I fought in the war on the front lines rather than hiding behind daddy's wards. Does anyone else want to test my patience?" Her voice was cold, void of any emotion and when no one spoke up or stepped forward, she dropped the wands to the ground.
Oliver took a step forward only for Hermione to see before she quickly approached him, all but throwing herself at him and he hugged her against him tightly.
"Ye alright?" Oliver muttered softly.
"Better now that I've hexed those bloody idiots," she replied and he chuckled.
"Why were ye crying?"
"I was angry. When I'm quiet, I usually cry in fury and then I hex someone, or hex someone and then I cry," she answered before pulling back from him and turning to look at the twins. "Did you bring the paste?" She asked, the three of them moving over to the stands after they'd nodded in response, lathering the green gooey paste on her bruises. "Can you turn around, please? I don't want you to see my scars," she said to Oliver quietly, shyly.
"Am gunna see them at some point," Oliver shrugged.
"No, I may have told you what happened but it's a different thing entirely to see the evidence. I'm not ready for you to see."
"A don' see why it matters," he frowned.
"Oliver, you've gained my trust and trust me when I say, it's an easier feat to break into Gringotts. Don't break it."
"Oliver, mate, don't push it, yeah?" George intervened.
Oliver reluctantly nodded before he turned and headed for the Coach and his teammates, all of them watching Melanie and Hannah with sniggers.
"Remind me to never get on her bad side," Thompson commented.
"Am the one living with her, a have tae check ev'ry room in me apartment in case she's hidden a joke product somewhere," he replied and they snorted at him, only for Oliver to laugh when Quaffle decided it would be more fun to chase the two screaming women rather than watch.
"Quaffle, don't bite them," Hermione scolded as she finally countered the spells as she approached them.
"I don't know what I'm going to do," Hermione sighed, rubbing a hand over her face tiredly.
"Aboot?"
"My job, I can't go back to the shop; everyone knows where I work now and the twins won't be able to keep the fans out without keeping out their customers, too. I can't let them lose business because of me, but they need my help with the stock and inventory. And what about Leo, I can't abandon him? If I leave, what am I going to do? I have to be productive, I can't just sit on my arse all day and do nothing; it'll bore me to death. And I'm not ready to leave the twins, I only moved out last week and now I have to quit my job, too? I love my job."
"Mia, we know you don't want to leave and we don't want you to either, but you have to for your safety. They know where you work and we can't put up security wards to protect you. It isn't safe for you anymore," Fred said, his sadness not masked in his voice.
"I can't do it, I only moved out a week ago, I can't leave the shop. I'm not ready."
"You weren't ready to move in with Oliver but you did and look at how well things are going. You may not be ready to leave your job but you have to. At least you can get a head start on studying for your NEWT's," George spoke, equally as sad as his twin.
"I don't care about my NEWT's," she muttered. They raised identical eyebrows of disbelief at her words. "I don't care, I'm only doing them as it's expected of me. I'm not applying for a job at the Ministry, I'm actually thinking about writing a book."
"You are? What about?" the twins asked.
"The war, I think it may help me come to terms with my past and allow me to move onto a better future," she answered and they smiled at her.
"Well, you can work on your book," Fred corrected. "But you have to leave; your safety's been called into question"
"What're you going to do about staff?"
"We can manage," he shrugged, giving her a lop-sided smile. "And thanks to you, we're three months ahead with the stock and thanks to those nifty changes you made to our recipes, we can make twice as many products in one session. You don't have to worry about us," George promised.
"Yeah, it's not as if we've blown up the shop or anything," Fred snorted.
"May I remind you that I left early on Saturday and because you didn't check the shelves, the firework display activated?"
"I'll admit, we could be a bit more observant," Fred conceded and Hermione scoffed. "Fine, we'll pay more attention," he chuckled. "But, Mia, this is the best thing for you, this job was always supposed to be temporary."
"So, I'm leaving?"
"You're leaving," the twins chorused in agreement, gently tugging her towards them and hugging her when they saw tears filling her eyes.
"Hermione?" A familiar voice caught her attention.
Stepping back from the twins, Hermione glanced up in surprise at their unexpected approaching visitor, the people around her all but gawking in surprise and Fred and George offered a smile and wave.
"Minister Shacklebolt," she greeted.
"I think we're way past the formal greetings," he chuckled.
"Sorry, force of habit," she replied. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here of all places?"
"I'm here as I've been informed by Auror Reddings, that you've had a spot of trouble this morning, and it is not even lunchtime yet."
Hermione's cheeks tinted pink at the knowing smirk that twitched at his mouth before he contained it.
She cleared her throat before saying, "I was attacked at the shop by Oliver's fans; they found out I'm marrying him." Her embarrassment took a back seat as she glared at him angrily and the Minister visibly took a step back.
The Minister had witnessed her temper at more than one Order meeting in the past and he knew to be as far away from her as possible when she was angry.
"I know the situation is less than ideal but you have to understand there has been a rapid and dramatic decline in the Wizarding population."
"Of course, I understand the severity of such an occasion, but really, a Marriage Law? What in the name of Merlin were you thinking? How much fire whiskey had you consumed when you thought up this brilliant solution? And in which case, why have some people been exempt from the law and others have not? Why has the choice to decide on our own partner been removed? And why haven't I been exempt from the law? After everything I have been put through, everything I have suffered and faced for the Wizarding World, do you not think I have earned the right to make my own decisions, to be left alone in peace? Did you know I'm still being harassed through mail by some of your Ministry departments?"
He frowned, giving his head a light shake. "We have chosen matches and taken away your choice so blood supremacy can be combated and eliminated. And I was not aware that you are still receiving mail but I will ensure it is stopped."
"You had complex charms and enchantments cast to find the matches, you couldn't control the outcome. I could've been matched to a former Death Eater. Why didn't you offer couples incentives, rewards for every child born to promote pregnancies? Why didn't you propose a law forbidding Purebloods from marrying one another? This law is barbaric and archaic and completely out of line. You've included me because you want me to be your poster child. You want to put mine and Oliver's marriage on a pedestal and parade us in front of Wizarding Britain. You've no idea how our marriage will turn out, for all you know, I might Bat-Bogey him to death. And giving people the option of marriage, life in Azkaban or being exiled from the Wizarding World is complete bullshit!" She fumed, ignoring the surprised gasps coming from behind her, not only at her language, but at the way she was speaking to the Minister of Magic. "I know there's nothing I can do to be excused from this law, and I'll comply with the rules to the best of my ability, but you have another thing coming if you think for even a second I will let you exploit either Oliver or myself."
Kingsley lowered his head, no longer being able to look at her red, angry and hurt expression whilst Oliver looked on in something similar to awe at her public dressing down of the Minister of Magic.
She took a deep breath, calming herself down and then she said, "I've some information regarding Rita Skeeter that you may find of interest."
The Minister lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow. "And that would be?"
"Oh, I'm not going to tell you yet, I want to have some fun with her first, completely legal of course," she added. "It most certainly wouldn't do to have Hermione Granger breaking the law," she smiled sweetly. "Well, publically at least."
"Well, if it's legal and not public," he chuckled and everyone's mouth hung open in shock. Did he just condone Hermione Granger's revenge on Skeeter? "I would like to know if you wish to press charges."
"No,"
"What?" Oliver blurted out, looking furious.
"No," she repeated.
"Sparrow, they hurt you. They attacked you. They hexed you when your back was turned!"
"Doesn't matter, I'm not pressing charges, it's too much hassle and there were too many of them to even identify," she said to him before turning her eyes back to Kingsley. "But maybe you should post Aurors outside the shop, fans are likely to turn up looking for me," she suggested and nodded in agreement. "One more thing, can we change the date of my NEWT examinations?"
"I don't see why not, when did you have in mind?"
"September," she answered.
"I'll have the records refilled for you," he nodded.
"Thank you, Minister, have you seen the newspaper this morning?"
He nodded. "I don't know how she does it," he commented.
"I do, but I'll tell you another time. However, you should start filing charges against her for when I hand her in. Build a case, you can add to the list trespassing and stalking. And I think you should be aware that Oliver and I didn't give out the date of our wedding, the invitations only went out this morning. Someone in the Ministry accessed our confidential file and sold the information to Skeeter."
"I'll have an investigation opened to monitor the Family Affairs Department as soon as I return," he promised, and with that, he said his goodbyes and took his leave.
"We better get going as well, see if Lee and Verity have finished with the cleaning up of the shop," Fred said.
"Now, don't come into work tomorrow," George warned.
"But it's Tuesday. Thieving Terrence and Confused Courtney are in," she frowned and they chuckled at her disappointed look, Oliver shaking his head at her amusedly.
"We can handle them, besides, now you won't be getting hit on by handsy twelve-year-olds," Fred teased.
"Or toothless seven-year-olds, shameless ten-year-olds and my personal favourite, the arse pinching fourteen-year-olds," George grinned, he and Fred bursting into laughter, Hermione grumbling beneath her breath and Oliver was torn between amusement and jealously.
"What about Leo?" She questioned, their laughter dying off at the mention of the young wizard.
"Ah, that could be a problem," George nodded.
"Well, we can speak to his mother and let her know that you won't be working at the shop anymore and when you get another job, we can pass on the details for you. Besides, didn't his mother give you permission to bring him to the match on Wednesday?" Fred asked.
"Yes, he's got his ticket and he owled me this morning, he's already bought himself a new jersey and scarf," she smiled fondly.
"See, we'll work something out. Right, we really better get back to the shop, we'll try and make it over for dinner tonight," George informed her and the twins kissed her forehead, said goodbye to everyone and then left. Hermione sighed and then turned around to face everyone; she'd forgotten they were still there.
"What?" She asked confused as they all stared at her with odd looks on their faces.
"Nothing," Oliver said quickly, too quickly to be believable and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"LUNCH!" Coach Burton called unexpectedly, the team sighing in relief and the women quickly leaving the Coach's box to go Merlin knows where. "Can I talk to you for a moment, Hermione?" he asked and she nodded.
"Just give me a second," she replied, reaching into her robe pocket, pulling out her beaded bag and then she removed a brown paper bag from inside before handing it to Oliver. "I made it this morning, I was going to send it over but now I don't need to. Share it out amongst yourselves."
"What is it?"
"Tuna and pasta, bananas and an apple for you," she started, a smile tugging at his face that she'd changed it slightly for his preferences. "Pumpkin juice and some cookies that I baked this morning, I put a Stasis Charm on them so they should still be warm."
When the team either sighed or groaned in appreciation, Hermione followed Coach Burton through the building until they reached his office. It held several filing cabinets and shelves filled with knick-knacks, a dark wooden desk and two matching chairs and large floor to ceiling windows, a storage cupboard and a second door which she didn't know what was hidden behind it.
Hermione took a seat when he gestured to it with a tip of his head, and she cleared her throat after he'd taken his own seat.
"So, what did you wish to talk to me about Coach?" She asked, feeling a little nervous at the way he was watching her.
"Did you talk to Wood?"
"Yes, he was surprisingly supportive of me possibly being around the stadium a little more, if I could work my hours out at work, that is."
"Well, you no longer have a job," he pointed out and Hermione frowned at the reminder that she was now unemployed. "I asked you for help with the team but now that you no longer have a job, your day is pretty much freed up. Wood's here and he's going to be bringing Quaffle to work with him."
"You're not getting my puppy," she interrupted and he chuckled at her.
"I know, but my point is they'll be here. I want to offer you a job as my Junior Coach. We'll see how you manage the position but I'm positive you'll be promoted to Assistant Coach in the future, maybe even take over my job when I retire."
Hermione stared at him in surprise; never in a million years did she think she'd be offered a job as a Quidditch Coach.
"I can't," she blurted out.
"Why not? As you said, you need something to do to keep you from getting bored. You'll be working fewer hours than what you previously worked and you know more about the team's statistics than I do. Hell, you knew that Bishop tends to fly slightly to the left, I've never noticed that before and neither has anyone else. You're arranging for new practice robes and equipment for the team, and, they like you. Likely because you feed them," he chuckled. "So, talk to Wood about it the offer and if you want the job, you start Thursday."
"But..."
"No, I'm not listening," he interrupted her rebuttal. "Now, let's see if those fat prats saved us any lunch."
Coach Burton stood from his chair and left his office, Hermione remained in her seat, stunned at the turn of events before she broke from her stupor and followed him back to the Coach's box.
"A saved ye some lunch," Oliver greeted with a smile, handing her a plate of tuna and pasta as she stopped next to him.
"Thank you," she replied, accepting it and still feeling a little dazed.
"What did Coach want?" Oliver asked, leading her to the stands to take a seat beside her.
"He...Well... He offered me a job," she admitted, feeling both nervous and surprised it had actually happened.
Oliver's eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. "He did? What fer?"
"Junior Coach,"
Oliver released a slow whistle of appreciation. "He mus' have faith in ye then, in all the years he's been Coach here, he hasnae once taken on a Junior or Assistant Coach. It was the same fer the Montrose Magpies, he coached them fer a few years befere he was poached by Puddlemere," Oliver explained. "He's been coaching thirteen years now but am sure ye knew tha' already," he finished, amused.
"He thinks I'd be good at it, he mentioned a possible promotion to Assistant Coach and maybe becoming Head Coach when he retires."
"He actually said those words?" He questioned in surprise.
"He did," she nodded.
He whistled again. "Ye gunna take the job offer?" He asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He didn't want to seem too happy or upset, not wanting to influence her decision.
"I don't know," she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "As I've said before, I don't want to intrude on your job and I don't want things between us to get weird or uncomfortable."
"Why would tha' happen?"
"Not only will we be living together, we'll be working together, too. We won't get any space for ourselves and I don't want us to end up hating each other because we're around each other so often. And if I do take the job, technically, I'll be your boss."
He shrugged his shoulders. "There's advantages tae having ye as me boss," he grinned as she gave him a look of confusion. "A think this might be good fer us. By spending more time tagether, we'll be comfortable 'round each other an' having ye 'round here will keep the team inline, particularly with tha' Bat-Bogey Hex af yers. An' a don' doubt the twins will give ye some products tae hide in their lockers if they get tae oot af hand or annoy you," he grinned and she snorted at him. "Ye know what, take the job offer, definitely take it," he nodded pleased with his words. So much for not influencing her decision, he thought.
"I don't think I can," she sighed and he rolled his eyes.
"Aye, ye can, stop worrying." He looked over towards Coach Burton as he quietly ate his lunch, doing his best to ignore Oliver's chattering teammates. "Coach!" He called. "She said yes!"
"No, I didn't!" Hermione called after him.
"Brilliant!" Coach Burton yelled back, completely ignoring Hermione's words.
"I didn't say yes! And you're not getting my puppy!" She shouted, noticing Quaffle sat by Coach Burton's side obediently and Oliver snorted at her.
"Thursday!" He yelled back, ignoring her previous comment once again. Hermione grumbled beneath her breath in annoyance.
"Ye mus' be the only person anno who can quit a job an' get another one in the space af an hour. But at least ye'll be at ev'ry game now, ye don' need tickets an' since yer part af the team, ye get tickets tae give tae yer friends an' family, where they'll sit in the family box. Am sure the twins will like tha', but ye'll be in the Coach's box."
"What about Leo?" She asked, he frowned in confusion. "Don't tell me you've forgotten." He raised an eyebrow. "Leo, I'm bringing him to the match with me on Wednesday to meet you and the team."
"Oh, that, a remember," he nodded. "But what's the problem?"
"If I have to sit in the Coach's box, what's going to happen to him?"
"Aren't his parents comin' with him?"
"No, his dad died during the war and his mum doesn't really care for him, she's distant and withdrawn. He told me that when he's at home, he either sits in his room or plays in the garden. That's why when they visit Diagon Alley he comes to see me and his mum does whatever she wants to. She gives him permission to stay with me all the time, she hasn't even met me and she's letting me take him to a Quidditch match, but when Leo told her my name, she seemed fine with the idea of me looking after him."
Oliver frowned. A woman letting a stranger she'd never officially met look after her child? What was wrong with the witch?
"Well, a imagine tha's 'coz she knows ye'll protect him an' keep him safe, an' as fer the match, am sure Coach will let ye bring him in the Coach's box with ye, jus' ask him," he shrugged. "Now, what are ye gunna do tamorrow?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know, I might make a start on studying for my NEWTs since I have less than two months until I sit them."
"Ye'll do fine," Oliver replied knowingly, not a doubt in his mind she wouldn't achieve the best grades possible, with or without studying.