CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Summary: The battle is over and a marriage law has been put into effect due to the rapidly declining wizarding population. Under the law, Hermione is forced to marry at eighteen or face being exiled from the Wizarding World. Join Hermione as she has to deal with her past, whilst looking forward to the future, with the help of The Weasley Twins and 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 are my own ideas. I am not making any profit from posting this fanfic.
Updated: 07/12/19
Page count: 25
Puddlemere United Stadium – Tuesday 21st July 1998
Hermione and Oliver had caught the newspapers that morning, particularly the Daily Prophet and Rita Skeeter, in particular, hadn't been kind but that was to be expected. She'd insinuated that Hermione had attacked a fan of Oliver's in a fit of jealousy, as well as two innocent bystanders who stepped in to help defend the young woman. Her next accusation had been that Hermione had Oliver under the Imperius Curse since no formal request had been made for a rematch. And going for the home run, she accused Hermione of forcing Oliver into buying her an expensive engagement ring as there was no requirement for one, evidencing it with a photo of Oliver stood outside the jewellers with a ring box in hand.
Oliver was furious, more so than Hermione and when they floo'd to the stadium that morning, he stormed down to the Coach's box like a bad-tempered hippogriff, pushed past everyone and ignored their questioning gazes as he mounted his broom and took to the sky, doing laps around the pitch. Hermione was both amused and a little worried for him but she'd been sure to send Skeeter a very special gift that morning to show her appreciation.
Once she'd reached the gathered team with Quaffle by her side, their eyes seemed to do a double-take as if not believing what they were currently seeing.
"What? Do I look terrible?" She frowned worriedly. "I told Oliver I should've changed," she grumbled, tugging on the hem of her dress.
Given the press conference that was to be happening later in the day, she'd made the decision to dress up a little more than she usually did, her attempt at looking more like a suitable Quidditch wife. Rather than wearing her regular clothing of shorts, jeans and t-shirts, she'd opted for a white printed summer dress with spaghetti straps, it fell above the knees, had an A-line silhouette and a v-neck. The bodice was white and looked to be lace and had a flower print and the skirt of the dress was white with a blue floral print. She had her hair cascading down her back in shiny, thick ringlets and she'd pinned it back from her face with blue and white flower clips she'd charmed to match the dress. A white cropped cover-up jacket and a pair of white ballet pumps that had a lace patch with a floral pattern that covered the very front of her foot completed the look, and as usual, she remained makeup-free.
She had in a simple pair of diamond stud earrings that had been given to her by her parents before she'd started Hogwarts and she wore a silver necklace with a love heart pendant around her neck that fell above the valley of her breasts, of which, had been pushed up by the built-in bra in the dress. She looked beautiful. A pink tint had covered her cheeks and she shifted nervously under their lingering gazes.
"Should I change?" She questioned but received no reply.
Coach Burton rolled his eyes at his players. "No, Junior, you look beautiful," he complimented, offering her a rare smile.
"Thanks," she muttered embarrassed and he chuckled.
After drawing the attention of the players, Coach Burton presented them with a glare that had them clearing their throats and pulling their eyes from Hermione, being reminded that they should be respectful. Not only was she the partner of a teammate but she was technically their boss, too.
"Why is Wood in such a mood when you look like that?" Malloy asked, blatantly leering at Hermione. Thompson reached over and thumped him in the arm, giving him a look of warning.
"The newspapers this morning, particularly the Daily Prophet," she sighed. "Haven't you heard? I'm keeping Oliver under the Imperius Curse and I attacked his number one fan in a fit of jealousy," she rolled her eyes and Coach Burton snorted at her as she huffed and folded her arms over her chest.
"Yeah, we saw it, seems like Skeeter's really got it out for you," Pallie said.
"Rule forty," Hermione offered.
"What?" They chorused in confusion.
"If ye think someone is oot tae get ye, they probably are," Oliver explained, being in hearing distance as he dismounted his broom and approached them.
He took up position beside Hermione, unconsciously reaching for her hand and lacing their fingers together. Seeing the display, one that hadn't happened before, eyebrows were raised.
"Don't worry, I'm giving her hell," Hermione grinned evilly. After reading that morning's article, Oliver no longer felt sorry for Skeeter, she deserved whatever Hermione was sending her way. "This morning I sent her some elf wine laced with a Love Potion, the first person she sees is going to be tormented by her. And the best part? I charmed the bottle; every time she drinks the wine, she forgets that she did, so once the Love Potion wears off, she'll drink the wine and the Love Potion's back in effect, all it takes is one sip. I'm not cruel enough to take away her control, just alter her actions a little, lower her inhabitations, the potion's perfectly legal, I made sure of it. So not only will she embarrass herself, but the rest of the staff have to suffer by putting up with her until the wine bottle's emptied." The team stared at her, surprised, horrified but also impressed. "Besides, Oliver, rule six."
"A dunno tha' one yet," he frowned.
"You shouldn't care what others think of you."
"Hermione, she said ye had mae under the Imperius Curse," he gave her a look of disbelief.
"And we all know that I don't. If I did you wouldn't argue with me so much," she shrugged her shoulders.
"An' tha' she accused ye af attacking Mary an' twa innocent bystanders?"
"Wait, Mary was the fan you attacked?" Bishop said stupidly, shrinking back under Oliver's glare.
"She dinnae attack anyone. Hermione was attacked by twa former classmates an' Death Eaters an' fucking Mary showed up," Oliver snapped, Hermione tsk'ed at his language.
"Didn't you know she and Oliver have something special? They love each other so much she has his jersey," she informed them, laughter bubbling from them and effectively breaking the tension that was beginning to build.
"So, what really happened?" Pallie asked.
"In short, I was attacked by two Death Eaters and Oliver's girlfriend appeared out of nowhere." They sniggered at the annoyed look Oliver gave her. "She said that for Oliver to be with her, the one he loved, I had to die," she shrugged. They stared at her. "Well, I think we should get on with training, you do have a match tomorrow, after all."
"The Wimbourne Wasps aren't going to know what's hit them," Coach Burton grinned, giving Hermione an appreciative look. "Now, get to work on those drills Junior gave you."
Oliver reluctantly released Hermione's hand and when he did several members of the team caught sight of the ring on her left hand.
"So, Wood? What's going on?" Pallie asked as they all gathered in a circle in the air after mounting their brooms and taking flight.
"What are ye on aboot?" He frowned in confusion.
"You and Hermione," he shrugged. "You seem a lot closer," he observed.
"Did you finally...?" Malloy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, Oliver glaring daggers at him. "By the way, Hermione's looking ravishing today," he smirked, enjoying riling up his team Captain.
"A swear tae Merlin, yer on the verge af gettin' a bludger tae the face," Oliver threatened.
"So what did happened?" Thompson questioned, rolling his eyes at the two of them. "I noticed a certain ring on a certain finger," he teased.
Oliver shifted on his broom. "A asked her tae marry mae."
"But you were already getting married," Kings frowned, puzzled by his words.
"We are, a asked her tae marry mae, withoot the influence or forcing as the Law. A wanted her tae mae 'coz she wanted tae."
"And what did she say?" Wilks arched his brow.
"She's wearing a ring, you prat. What d'you think she said?" Bishop rolled his eyes.
"Yes?"
"Duh," he snorted, the others sniggering at their teammate.
"But I thought Hermione didn't want a ring," Briggs commented.
"She dinnae, but she deserves a proper engagement. At first, she tried tae make mae take it back," his mouth twitched.
"Too small?" Bishop guessed, nodding knowingly. "I know how that feels, Megan had the same reaction."
"Naw, actually, the exact opposite," he replied, a pleased expression forming at their surprised expressions, likely having experienced something similar to Bishop giving their reactions. "She said it was tae expensive an' wanted mae tae exchange it fer a cheaper one. She only gave in when a threatened tae use a Sticking Charm."
"How much did you pay?" Kelsey asked curiously.
"Nine," Oliver shrugged.
"Nine hundred?"
"Nine thousand," Oliver corrected, amused by their stares of surprise.
"I spent three and a half," Martin muttered, the majority of the team nodding along as if they'd spent around the same amount.
"Why so expensive?" Fox asked.
"A had one made specifically fer her, a one af a kind ring," he shrugged.
"That's expensive, even for someone on our wage," Fisher commented.
"She's worth it," he said simply, his eyes trained on the figure below as she spoke with Coach Burton.
"That's not all that's changed," Pallie said knowingly. "You told her, didn't you?"
"Told her what?"
"That you love her." Oliver's head snapped to him, seeing the matching smirks that watched him. "There's no point in denying it, Mate, anyone can see. You're not exactly subtle at hiding your feelings."
Oliver sighed in defeat. "Fine, a told her," he grumbled. "But ye don' understand, she's so easy tae love. She's had tae be healed three times in the last twa weeks alone, a witnessed her collapse an' she wouldn't wake. Ye weren't there when the press hounded her, ye dinnae hear the things they asked her. 'Miss. Granger, are ye responsible fer the disappearance af Harry Potter an' Ron an' Ginny Weasley? Mr. Wood, are ye afraid ye'll be next tae disappear?'" He mimicked, scowling. "After ev'rythin' she's been through, she deserves tae be taken care af."
"What has she been through?" Wilks asked in intrigue, knowing a lot of the happenings of the war had been kept secret, quiet.
"Yer'll find oot soon enough aboot the sacrifices she's made fer our world. She's gunna write books aboot the war; she wants people tae know the truth an' not the Ministry version. A think it'll help her in the long run."
"Since we're on the topic, is she responsible for the disappearance of..." He never finished, Oliver's murderous glare being frightening. "Never mind," he cleared his throat.
"Nae, she isnae, ye tosser. They left her on their own accord, all they left was a note saying they couldn't deal with the pressure af the aftermath an' they left her tae deal with it alone. They left in the middle af the night like cowards, even after ev'rythin' she's done fer them. As far as am concerned, Harry Potter isnae the saviour af the Wizarding World, Hermione is, an' yer'll think the same when her books are released," with that, he flew off, signalling the end of the conversation.
The team glanced to another thoughtfully, questioningly, before following their Captain's example and starting their training routine for the day.
~000~000~000~
When the time came for the press conference, Oliver flew down to the stands and found Hermione pacing. He watched her fondly -she really did look beautiful- before he approached her.
"Ye ready tae set them straight?" Oliver asked.
She shook her head furiously, her curls bouncing about her face as she continued to pace. "No, I think I've changed my mind, I can't do this. Why did I think this was a good idea?"
Snorting, Oliver set his broom down before reaching for her hand, the moment she passed him, he grasped it and tugged her into him, wrapping his arms around her to prevent her breaking free and continuing with her pacing. Sighing tiredly, she folded her arms around him and melted against his chest, her mouth tugging into a smile when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"Skeeter's been banned from the conference, she won't be there an' if she does come, she won't be allowed in. If it'll make ye feel more comfortable an' ye want mae tae, a can take the lead, a don' mind."
"Thank you" she muttered gratefully. "A don't like being the centre of attention and I hate the press even more."
"A won't stand back an' allow them tae attack yer character, a'll set them straight an' when yer comfortable, ye can step in any time ye wish."
Hermione nodded against his chest. "Are you sure I shouldn't change?" She questioned nervously.
"Sparrow, ye look beautiful, but ye could wear Trelawney's clothes an' look beautiful."
She gently slapped his arm and he chuckled; he knew she had a very strong dislike for the divination teacher, which is why he'd brought her up as a distraction.
"Let's go," Oliver drew back from her, taking her hand in his and leading her up the stands and towards the conference room, being sure to leave Quaffle behind; they couldn't risk him attacking or biting someone. "Am jus' gunna quickly use the bathroom before we go in," Oliver informed her, releasing her hand when she nodded.
When he entered the bathroom, Hermione leaned against the wall behind her, her head tipping back and her eyes closing as she folded her arms over her chest, taking a moment to gather herself. Unfortunately, the silence didn't last long, the telltale clatters of heels against the marble flooring disturbing her.
"Well, look who we have here, the deranged and violent Muggleborn." Hermione heard someone voice and she opened her eyes and resisted the urge to roll them. Approaching her were the reserve's wives.
Gina Kelsey, who had short blonde hair and dark green eyes, Ashley Fox, who had shoulder-length brown hair and dark blue eyes, Courtney Briggs, who had mid-length brown hair and grass green eyes, Penny West, who had a bob-style brown hair and hazel eyes, Rebecca McGee, who had shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes, Sally Fisher, with long red hair and bright green eyes, and finally, Zara Martin with her mid-length black hair and pale blue eyes. They were all tanned except for Rebecca and Courtney who had darker skin, and Penny who was paler. They were all, however, sporting unnecessarily tight and revealing clothing and enough makeup to own their own cosmetics company.
"Ladies," Hermione greeted, her head tipping back and her eyes closing once more.
"Why'd you attack that girl? Afraid that Oliver's found someone more suitable?" One of the women asked, Hermione didn't know which and she didn't care.
"Not really," she said, seeing no point in arguing with them. They'd only hear what they wanted to.
"You are aware that you look like a slag, right?" Another woman spoke, and it was at this point Oliver stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes narrowing dangerously on the group of women that hadn't noticed his presence.
"Then I fit in perfectly," she replied effortlessly, shrugging her shoulders. Oliver snorted at her reply, their attention being drawn to him at the sound.
"Hello, Oliver," Ashley Fox purred.
"Hermione?" Oliver questioned, his less than pleased expression trained on the group of witches. "As Junior Coach yer've the authority tae ban anyone ye wish from entering the stadium, do ye wish tae ban these witches in front af ye?"
Hermione snorted and lifted her head. "But what would they do if they couldn't come here and bitch about everyone?" She asked innocently, Oliver's mouth twitching. "They clearly don't have the intelligence or motivation to get a job of their own, so they come here and live off their husband's hard-earned galleons. I, however, prefer to be productive and pay my own way in life."
Was she being a bitch? Yes, she was. Did she care? No, she didn't. It was high time they received a taste of what they dished out.
Their expressions turned to outrage; Hermione didn't look bothered in the slightest.
"A role model tae young witches everywhere," Oliver nodded proudly. "Not only are ye intelligent an' beautiful, but yer showing young women they don' have tae rely on a man fer a'thing in life, an' they can be independent in their own right, which is more than can be said fer ye ladies."
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Hermione warned, seeing Ashley Fox reaching for her wand. She must've been the leader of their little bitch circle. "Are you forgetting I'm deranged and violent? They were your words. Do you not remember what I did to Melanie and Hannah? I've created a few spells over the years, mostly practical, but I would be more than happy to create a new hex, I'll even name it after you," she said, Oliver snorting in amusement.
"If a were ye, a'd remember who yer in the presence af next time. Not only is Hermione the Junior Coach, but she's also a war veteran an' on a first-name basis with the Minster af Magic," Oliver reminded them before turning towards Hermione, smiling encouragingly. "Ready, Sparrow?"
"No,"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Yer'll be fine, let's go." He held his hand out expectantly and she placed her in his.
Leaving behind the groups of outraged and embarrassed witches, he led her further down the corridor until they reached the conference room, Hermione taking a deep breath before Oliver opened the door. The moment they stepped inside, camera flashes blinded them and the crowd of reporters, journalists and columnists stood from their chairs and approached as a stampede as they shouted over one another to be heard, the security team holding them back. Hermione and Oliver walked down the cleared pathway to the raised stage and climbed the steps, stopping before the podium. As a distraction, Hermione's eyes darted about the room, seeing it was large and simple. The three walls were white with a large Puddlemere logo sat in the middle of each, floor to ceiling windows covered the entirety of the fourth wall, allowing for plenty of natural light. A midnight-blue carpet lay beneath their feet and fold up chairs were set up on the ground, creating a seating area.
Oliver waited until the crowd retook their seats and quieted before saying, "We have asked ye here taday, tae address certain matters regarding meself an' Hermione," his voice clear, commanding the attention of everyone in the room despite already having it. "If we are interrupted we will leave an' this conference will be over, we won't be taking any questions at this time, we may, however, do so towards the end."
Hermione peered up at Oliver, impressed by his confidence and commanding tone and sensing her gaze, he looked down at her, his mouth twitching into a smirk until she pinched his side in warning. He gave her hand a squeeze, his thumb running over the back of her hand comfortingly, the gesture hidden behind the podium.
"Yesterday, when we were in Diagon Alley, Hermione was attacked by twa former classmates an' a fan af mine. Their identities will not be revealed at this time but Hermione was forced tae defend herself against her attackers, an' they were later taken intae custody." Camera flashes continued to blind them and quills were charmed to quickly take down notes. "The fan tha' attacked Hermione has caused mae some problems in the past, after breaking intae me apartment, stealing some af me belongings an' stalking mae. She has taken it one step tae far when she decided tae confront Hermione, an innocent woman. This is the second time in twa weeks tha' Hermione has been attacked by me fans, the first being at her previous place af work an' by a large number af women. A will not stand fer this behaviour, it's not Hermione's fault tha' she an' a were matched tagether; tha' is the Ministry's doin' an' she is not tae blame."
Hermione, feeling a headache forming from the bright camera flashes, tipped her head to lean against his shoulder, Oliver's mouth twitching into a smile at the action.
"The things tha' a've read in the news recently are laughable. Hermione did not attack one af me fans in a fit af jealousy, she was defending herself. Hermione did not force mae intae buying her an engagement ring, if am honest, a bought one as a wanted tae. The fact af the matter is, she specifically told mae not tae buy her one an' it was a battle an' a half tae convince her tae accept it, an' tha' was after a threatened tae use a Sticking Charm on the ring," Oliver said, looking down at Hermione with a fond expression. "Hermione Granger's the most intelligent, kind-hearted an' selfless person a've ev'r met an' she doesn't deserve the treatment she's suffered so you can sell a few newspapers. Yer not only insulting both her an' mae, but yer picking away at her character an' ye should all be deeply ashamed af yerselves."
Hermione squeezed Oliver's hand, drawing his attention and she gave a subtle nodded, letting him know she felt confident enough to take over. Taking a breath, she made sure to look forward and not at the camera flashes.
"Yesterday, I was asked a series of questions and today I'm going to answer them the best I can. Do I feel any remorse for what I did? I feel awful but I did what was justified; I defended myself, but knowing my attackers were far less experienced than I was in the art of defence, I used only defensive spells, magic that would incapacitate, not harm or injure. The same cannot be said for my attackers. I had several breaks, cuts and bruises by the time Aurors arrived to contain the situation. Two of my attackers were knocked unconscious by myself, and the third attacker has a rather nasty dog bite, and he was knocked unconscious by Oliver as he arrived when the attack was in progress. The dog in question belongs to both myself and Oliver and he was protecting me. Charges aren't going to be brought against either of us."
"No, I'm not responsible for the disappearance of Harry Potter and Ron and Ginny Weasley. The night of the Final Battle, they made the decision to leave without informing anyone of their plans, only leaving a note for myself and the Weasley family, stating they wished to do some travelling now the war is over. They don't know how long they will be gone and neither do we. I don't know where they are and they haven't made any attempt to contact us or reply to any of our letters. Harry Potter wasn't just my best friend, he was my little brother and I spent seven years by his side, my loyalty unwavering. Ron was hot-tempered and he could be mean when he wanted to be but he was my best friend, too. And Ginny, she was my best female friend. I would never hurt them, not only because I don't have it in me, but they were my family."
Oliver stared down at her proudly, Hermione lifting her gaze to see his smile.
"And as for Rita Skeeter insinuating that Oliver is under the Imperius Curse..." Hermione trailed off, sighing. "Oliver's very clearly not under the Imperius Curse. Not only are there no physical signs such as the cloudy eyes or change in behaviour, but if he was, he wouldn't disagree with me so much."
Oliver snorted. "It's true," he nodded, wincing when Hermione pinched his side. "Yer asking tae be tickled," he looked down at her, knowing she hated being tickled
"You're asking to be Bat-Bogied," she scowled.
"Then a'll give Harold tae Quaffle," he teased.
"Then, I'll replace your wardrobe with Chudley Cannon orange," she fired back.
"A'll re-arrange the library," he threatened, his mouth twitching at the horrified look that crossed her eyes.
"Then I'll set fire to your broom," she narrowed her eyes. Hearing a throat clearing, they both turned to face forward, being reminded of where they were and the purpose of it. "See what I mean?" Hermione said exasperated. "No Imperius Curse here," she gestured to him with a wave of her hand and Oliver snorted.
"Am not afraid a'll be next tae disappear," Oliver rolled his eyes. "An' Hermione's not a violent person, there's not a mean bone in her body. She's sarcastic an' witty, but she's not malicious, which is more than can be said fer some af the wives," he muttered, Hermione pinching his side once more, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Am grateful tae have gotten matched tae Hermione, under other circumstances a likely wouldn't have met Hermione, an' a would've missed oot on someone special. A wouldn't have gotten the chance tae fall in love with her."
The crowd exploded with gasps of surprise, rushing to note everything down whilst they observed them watching each other.
"I'm grateful to have been matched with Oliver, there was a distinct possibility I could've been matched to a former Death Eater or sympathy. But I got lucky. Most people see Oliver as one of Britain's most eligible bachelors, based on his appearance, fame, wealth and status. But I don't; I'm blessed with seeing the real Oliver every day, the Oliver Wood that you don't see behind the camera or off the Quidditch pitch. He's incredibly intelligent, passionate and determined. He makes me laugh and smile and he makes me cry in frustration. He's so kind, generous and humble. He can't cook to save his life and he's rubbish at anything that involves decorating, but he's brilliant at listening to me, he values my opinion, he remembers the things I say, he comforts me when I need it and he sets me straight when I'm too self-critical. We've a lot of similarities and a lot of differences. We balance each other out; where one falls, the other rises. Under other circumstances, I likely wouldn't have met Oliver, and I would've missed out on someone special. I wouldn't have gotten the chance to fall in love with him."
Hermione's eyes bore into his, seeing his expression softening and his eyes pooling with love and affection. She was sure she mirrored him. Silently, Oliver lifted the hand he was holding to his mouth and placed a kiss to the back of it before tugging her into his side and wrapping his arms around her. Her right arm wound around his back and her left hand sat against his chest, her engagement ring glinting in the sunlight. This was the type of intimacy that couldn't be forced. It wasn't for show, for the public or the Ministry, it was genuine.
"A love her," he confessed.
"And I love him," Hermione said sincerely.
"It's as simple as that," they chorused unintentionally, looking to each other in amusement.
"This Law brought us tagether, but a fell fer her all withoot any influence an' a asked her tae marry mae 'coz a wanted tae."
"I fell for him on my own and I agreed to marry him not because of the Law, but because I wanted to marry him."
"As far as we're concerned, this Law doesn't apply to us. -"
"- We'll follow the rules, but we're marrying each other because we want to and not because we have to," Hermione finished, peering up at Oliver. "Since when do we do twin speak?"
"A dunno, it's weird, right?"
"No, it weirdly feels natural," she shrugged.
"Doesn't it?" He replied amused.
"Fred and George, look out," she agreed, Oliver snorted at her before they both turned to face forward.
"If me fans truly did care fer mae, they'd see tha' Hermione makes mae happy. A want tae be with her, a want tae marry her, regardless af hoo we were brought tagether. Me true fans would be happy tha' am happy, an' they'd stop harassing Hermione. So a ask them, leave her alone. She's done nothin' wrong an' she supports mae, she gives mae somethin' tha' a've never had befere. It's not only made mae a better Quidditch player, but a better man. A love her, an' a hate seeing her both upset an' injured over somethin' me fans did tae her."
"And with that, any questions?" Hermione asked.
The crowd burst into noise, everyone trying to be heard over each other as they stood from their chairs and waved their arms about madly, trying to catch their attention before anyone else. Hermione sighed tiredly before releasing a loud whistle, the noise soon quieting down.
"There, that's better. Let's try and act like civilised people, shall we? One at a time," she said, nodding towards a redhead with thick glasses perched on her nose, blue eyes hidden beneath.
"Mr. Wood? Lucy Miles, Daily Prophet. Do you believe Miss. Granger will be a suitable Quidditch wife?"
"Naw," he shook his head once. "A know she'll make a brilliant wife. She disagrees with mae on this 'coz she's tae self-critical, but she'll be one af the best Quidditch tae have ev'r been seen. She has tae be productive otherwise she gets bored or she feels like she isnae putting her knowledge tae good use, which is more than can be said fer other Quidditch wives. Hermione's Puddlemere's Junior Coach, the first tae be hired by Coach Burton in his thirteen years af coaching," he stated proudly. "Most af the Quidditch wives don' even know which position their partners play," he said, taking a dig at them, still being pissed at their previous interaction. Hermione pinched his side in warning. "Hermione was hired due tae her eye fer detail, extensive knowledge af Quidditch an' her ability tae control the team. Everyone respects her an' with her being the only female on the team, she's unofficially taken on the role af Quidditch mother, she looks after us. She works us hard an' she doesn't take any bullshit from the team."
She pinched his side once more for his language, Oliver barely sparing her a glance as he nodded to a blonde witch, her shoulder-length hair falling into her dark eyes.
"Miss. Granger, Mr. Wood? Cynthia Shaw, Witch Weekly. What would you say has made your relationship the way it is today?"
"Well," Hermione started, "We, of course, knew of each other in school but it wasn't until recently we officially met or spoke more than a few words. Given the less than ideal circumstances and the awkwardness of it, we decided it was best to do everything we could to make this easier for ourselves. We thought it best we start our relationship by dating, getting to know one another. We spent as much time together as could without being too overbearing and working around our schedules. Before I knew it, I'd fallen for him. There aren't many people that can handle my rants, pranking and threats of being hexed when he annoys me. "
"Hermione deals with me teasing, laughing at her expense as she's quite clumsy, an' me frustration when training doesn't quite go tae plan. We're honest with each other, we both put in the effort tae make this relationship work, an' we work together which's a bonus fer mae as a get tae stare at her all day," he said, the audience laughing at him and Hermione rolling her eyes. "We don' have secrets."
He nodded to a brunette, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, a quill tucked behind her ear and once poised above the parchment in her grasp.
"Miss. Granger, Mr. Wood? Leslie Johns, Witch Weekly. You seem to have a strong relationship; do you have any advice for other couples under the Law?"
"Advice? I'd say don't fight one another, there's no way out of the Law and there's no point in arguing. It's a waste of time and energy that could be spent bettering the relationship and getting to know one another. You may not like each other but you can learn to be civil. Children are expected, it's the main goal of the Law and no child should be raised in a hostile environment. If there's one thing you can agree on, it's that you'll love your child unconditionally and you'll want the best for them."
"An' if ye don' particularly like yer partner, when it comes tae the weekly task af consummating the marriage as per the rules, drink plenty af fire whisky," Oliver suggested, the audience laughed at him and Hermione rolled her eyes.
Hermione nodded a raven-haired wizard, some strands brushing his forehead and falling into his hazel eyes and he reached up and pushed them aside.
"Miss. Granger? Jeremy Kiln, The Quibbler. Rumour has it you're writing a book, is this true?"
Hermione didn't bother acting surprised that they'd found out somehow.
"Yes, it is. I'll be writing seven books in total, each based on the war and happenings that have plagued this world. I've already made some progress and I hope to have the first book published by October, November the latest. I can guarantee that what will be written will be one hundred percent the truth, coming straight from the source of someone who not only lived through it, but who was directly in the centre of it all."
Her eyes searched the room before nodding towards the white-blonde witch, her expression calm and thoughtful.
"Miss. Granger? Jenny Herts, The Quibbler. Why do you think Rita Skeeter was so harsh when she wrote those articles regarding yourself and Mr. Wood?"
"Oh, that's simple; she hates me," she shrugged. "But the feeling is mutual. Miss. Skeeter and I have a long history dating back to my fourth year at Hogwarts. I didn't agree with the way she was treating certain people or the way she was disregarding school and Ministry policies since she interviewed under-aged students without an adult present, and she also used a quick quote quill on underage students without an adult present, both are illegal. I was the only person to stand up to her and she hates me for it. Since then, every article she pens that bares mention of me is cruel, character diminishing and one hundred percent false. But the age of Miss. Skeeter's lies, propaganda and cruelty is coming to an end."
Finally, after a further twenty minutes, all questions were asked and answered the conference drew to a close, something Hermione was glad for.
"We would like to thank you all for coming today and we hope we have answered all of your questions, now if you will please excuse us, we have a match tomorrow and we have to get back to training to continue with our preparation," Hermione ended the conference, she and Oliver descending the stairs of the stage and leaving the room, hand in hand.
When the door closed behind them, Hermione slumped against the wall, releasing a tired sigh and Oliver chuckled.
"I don't know how you do that all the time. It was horrific, all those people staring at me and hanging on every word I said," she shivered and he chuckled. She looked up and into his amused eyes. "I meant it, you know? Every word I said."
He smiled. "Anno, as did I." He leaned forward and kissed her.
~000~000~000~
Wood Apartment
Hermione lay on her bed, sporting her pyjamas as she stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully and Oliver appeared in the doorway, leaning against it with his arms folded across his chest.
"Eight?" Oliver questioned.
Turning her head, she saw him sporting a white t-shirt and drawstring pyjama bottoms.
"The smallest act of kindness can bring joy to someone's life," she answered.
"Hoo'd ye learn tha' one?"
"When I was younger, there was a book shop my parents used to visit. I loved it there, the smell of leather-bound books and paper; it was my favourite place in the world. One day, we visited and discovered that Mr. Ashburn, the owner, was selling because he couldn't afford to keep the shop running as he barely had any customers. Mr. Ashburn was a kind man and the shop had been in his family for almost seventy years. So, my parents bought as many books as they could and they told their friends, who told their friends and so on, and word travelled. After two weeks, the shop's customer base had tripled. Mr. Ashburn's sales increased and he got regular customers and he could afford to keep the shop open, preventing him from selling. I spent a lot of time in the book shop during my childhood. It was a home away from home."
Smiling, he entered the room, moving to lay beside her on the bed, staring up at the ceiling just as she was doing.
So, all yer parents did was recommended a book shop an' a local family business was saved?"
"Yes, it's still there, I think he's married now and has a son. I haven't seen him since my fourth year," she shrugged. "But as I said, the smallest act of kindness can bring joy to someone's life. Look at what Fred and George did; they asked me to move in with them and in doing so, they saved me. They stopped me from falling into a pit of despair and misery; they gave me something to do with my life, a focus, a purpose. It's why they're my best friends, my family. They had no reason to do that for me, but they did," she fell silent. They laid in comfortable, companionable silence until Hermione broke it a while later. "I have something for you," she said and he turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Ye dinnae have tae get mae a'thing."
"Technically I didn't, but it's a wedding gift," she responded.
She stood from the bed and crossed to her chest of drawers. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, watching as she opened a drawer, removed a small wooden box with 'For our beautiful, Hermione' inscribed in white, elegant calligraphy, and her fingers traced it softly before locating the latch. As she opened the box, a soft, soothing lullaby began playing, the gentle tinkling sound filling the quiet room as pulled something out and enclosed it in her fist and then shut the box before walking back over to the bed and sitting beside Oliver, the box sitting in her lap.
"In my family, we have a tradition," she started, reaching for his hand, turning it palm up and placing the item in his hand. His eyes fell down to it, seeing a simple gold chain with a gold wedding band attached to it.
"A wedding band?" He puzzled.
She nodded. "This belonged to my father," she told him, her tone saddened and expression softened as with his free hand, he reached for her left one. "It belonged to his father before him, and so on. Before the wedding of a Granger, the father would pass down this ring to either his son or future son-in-law, if he had a daughter. My father would've given this to you himself if he were still alive, I know he would've liked you and he would've wanted you to have it." She lifted the lid on the box and slipped her hand inside, pulling back with a matching gold chain and wedding band. "This one is mine; it's passed onto the daughter or future daughter-in-law by the mother. It's said to bring luck and bless the marriage, so that we may have a happy life and future together. When the time comes, you will pass that ring onto our son or future son-in-law, and I will pass my ring onto our daughter or future daughter-in-law," she explained, her gaze on the rings resting in their palms, and he smiled. "You don't wear them as wedding bands, everyone tends to wear them as necklaces, but if you don't want to wear it you don't have to, I just thought you should have it, and you know, continue with tradition?" She finished nervously, his smile growing wider.
"A'd be honoured tae wear it," he said softly.
Her head snapped up and she looked at him in disbelief and he chuckled.
"Really?"
He nodded. "If it's tradition, then a'd be glad tae take part."
Hermione beamed and launched herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.
~000~000~000~
Puddlemere United Stadium - Wednesday 22nd July 1998
"So, Wood, I didn't know you had a sense of humour," Bishop commented, the others falling into a fit of laughter.
"Did you know he's humble and generous?" Kelsy teased.
"Humble and generous, my arse," Thompson snorted.
Oliver glared but knew it would be a waste of time commenting; it was better to let them get on with it until they grew bored.
"Hmm, and apparently he can't cook or decorate to save his life," Wilks said.
"But he's comforting and selfless," Kings piped up.
The only good thing to have come from the newspapers that morning was the article detailing the conference he and Hermione had done the day before. Each one appeared to be positive, highlighting their relationship for what it truly was and running damage control over previously published articles.
"What's that 'round your neck?" Pallie asked, gesturing to the gold chain he could see peeking out of his practice robes.
Silently, Oliver pulled the chain from his robes to show the simple gold wedding band.
"Hermione's wearing the exact same thing," Kings mused. "Awe, how cute, matching jewellery," he teased, the team sniggering.
"It's tradition in her family," her family.
"What? To wear matching jewellery?" Thompson questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"Naw, ye prat," Oliver rolled his eyes. "This ring's been passed doon fer generations by the men in her family. It's passed on tae either the son, an' if there isnae one, the son-in-law. The rings she's wearing is passed doon by the women. It's supposed tae bring good luck," he shrugged his shoulders and tucked the chain back into his robes.
"So you've met the parents then?" Malloy spoke amused. "And how was it? Did you charm the pants off Mrs. Granger?" He wiggled his eyebrows and they laughed. "I bet you did, did she drag you off to the bedroom?"
"My parents are dead" Hermione's voice rang clear through the bellowing laughter and as soon as they heard it, the laughter halted, all of them turning their heads to see Hermione stood behind them. Oliver glared at the team before his eyes darted to Hermione, observing her carefully.
"We're sorry, Hermione, we didn't know," Thompson said, shifting his body weight nervously. Hermione gave him an understanding smile. She'd come to realise that Thompson was the nicest of the bunch. He would tease and taunt but he always knew when to stop before things went too far and he was actually really kind when you got to know him, when you broke down the defences.
"I know you didn't and it's okay. I'm learning to deal with it and move on," she said, unconsciously tugging on her necklace with a faraway look in her eyes. Her expression had saddened and they felt awful for bringing up memories of her parents. She shook her head and the sadness disappeared from her face, being replaced with a smile. "Right, I'm off."
"Where are you going? We have a match in less than four hours," Pallie frowned.
"I'm going to pick up Leo; we're heading into Muggle London so we can get him a suit for the wedding. He's going to look so adorable as the ring bearer."
"Ring bearer?" Wilks mouthed to everyone and they shrugged, just as clueless as he was.
"But don't worry, I'll be back before the match."
"Is Leo coming?" Oliver asked.
"Yes, though I haven't decided if he's sitting with the twins in the family box or with me in the Coach's box yet."
"Coach said he could sit with you again?" Bishop questioned in surprise.
"Hmm, apparently he likes Leo, makes him laugh," she replied amused before turned and away, only to turn once more so she was walking backwards. "By the way, you can still grill him about my family. Just ask about the interrogation he got from Mr. Weasley and the threats he received from Bill, Charlie and the twins."
Hermione left up the stands, laughing to herself as the team soon found another topic to tease Oliver with.
"What happened?"
"Did you get punched in the face?"
"What're they going to do to you?"
"Did you get hurt in any way? Please, tell me you did!"
"Did you charm Mrs. Weasley?"
"Thanks, Sparrow," Oliver muttered.
~000~000~000~
Wood Apartment
"Hey, what're you doing back so early?" Hermione asked, looking up from the journal in her lap, a muggle pen in hand and one behind her ear.
Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Had a few drinks an' then decided a couldn't take any more af the teasing withoot hurting someone."
"You know I don't mind if you stay out late with the team?"
Oliver nodded with a smile. "Anno, what're ye doin'?" He questioned.
He stepped into the library and moved to perch on the armrest of the armchair Hermione was curled up on, whilst Quaffle was asleep on the one opposite them. Looking down at her, his mouth twitched at the sight of her still being clad in his Quidditch jersey, only now she wore pink cotton short instead of jeans.
"This is my second journal from my first year. I'm going through it and making a few changes. I've already finished my first journal which contained months September through to December and a lot's happened."
"Hmm?"
"Yes, we've had the discovery of magic, bullying, mountain trolls, jinxed brooms and cheating chasers, three-headed dogs, snowball fights and the introduction of Nicolas Flamel."
"Sounds exciting, a get tae read it first, right?"
"I don't know; you'll have to fight the Weasleys for that right," she teased and he laughed at her.
"Have ye found a publishing company yet?"
"Since the articles were released this morning, I've received a fair few owls from companies wanting to represent me."
"Really? Who?"
"Obscure Books, Whizz Hard Books, Ward Lock & Co, Merge Books, M.L Books and Little Red Books," she listed.
"D'ye know which one ye wanna go with?"
"Not yet. Obscure Books published Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Whizz Hard Books published; Quidditch Through the Ages and Hairy Snout, Human Heart. Ward Lock & Co have published titles such as Shrubs and Trees for the Garden. Merge Books have published titles such as Advanced Potion Making and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five. M.L Books have published titles such as the second edition of A History of Magic, Omens Oracles and the Goat, The Oracle of Palombo and The Decline of Pagan Magic. They've also published several titles by Bathilda Bagshot. And Little Red Books have published A History of Magic and The Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles," Hermione shrugged. He blinked in surprise, wondering how she knew all of that before giving his head a shake.
Hermione closed her journal and reached over to placed it on the table in front of her along with the muggle pens and then she stretched with her arms above her head.
"How are you feeling? Do you need me to heal you?"
"Am fine,"
"Oliver, you were hit by another bludger" she scowled.
"But a stayed on me broom an' we won," he pointed out.
"Did we?" She said sarcastically and he rolled his eyes.
"Aye, we did. The team's improving rather well with our new training regime an' ye working us hard," he said proudly. "Now, a have a gift fer ye, sort af a wedding present. A'll meet ye in yer room," he said and before she could protest, he was gone.
Sighing, she left the library and crossed into the room opposite, flinging herself onto the bed. Barely any time passed before Oliver arrived with a small box in hand, sitting beside her.
"In me family, we also have a tradition," Oliver stated. "Ev'ry Pureblood family has a crest. When a child is old enough they're given a piece af jewellery with the Wood family crest on. When a Wood son marries, they give a gift tae their wife tae symbolise the acceptance af her intae the family. Am not entirely sure if a gift is given tae a future husband 'coz as far as am aware, only males have been born in me family an' fer the past ten generations only one child has been born," he explained, setting the small box in her hand.
As she opened it, a gasp fell from her mouth. A thin silver cuff bracelet laid before her, stamped in the centre was the Wood crest, consisting of a coat of arms with a large bear and a 'W' in the background. Under the crest, Hermione's name was written in elegant calligraphy diamonds were embedded in the silver band.
Taking it out of the box, Oliver lifted her right wrist and secured the band in place, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand once he was done.
"Me da has a ring he wears on his right ring finger an' me ma wears a broach. A have a cuff bracelet," he said, lifting up his shirt sleeve to show the silver cuff bracelet fasted around his wrist. It was identical to hers only his name was engraved and the band was thicker.
"Is that what Mary stole from your home?"
Oliver nodded. "The Minister owled it back tae mae this morning. The bear is the Wood emblem. It represents benevolence, power, peace, courage, resurrection an' sovereignty."
"Thank you, Oliver, it's beautiful," she said softly.
Usually, she would've fought accepting such a gift, but this wasn't just any random gift. It was him accepting her into his family; it was his parents accepting her into their lineage. He smiled before leaning forward to press a kiss to her mouth.
"Do ye feel up tae showing mae another scar?" He asked her.
Hermione pondered her decision. She had only three scars left to show him. The one on her left arm as a result of Bellatrix's torture, the one on her back left by Lupin and the one on her chest from Dolohov.
Standing from the bed, she crossed over to the chest of drawer, removed something, reached for her wand and then made to leave the room.
"Where are ye goin'?" He asked her confused.
"I'll be right back," she promised, heading for the bathroom next door.
She entered and closed the door behind her, moving over to the sink and staring at her reflection in the mirror. Sighing, she lifted the sleeve of her/Oliver's jersey, and then proceeded to cast several Glamour Charms. The scar was still visible only blurred somewhat, and so she covered it with the makeup she'd bought for exactly that purpose. Happy it was hidden, she lifted her gaze to her reflection.
"If you're going to show him your scars you're going to have to remove your shirt," she said to herself, seeing the anxiety on her own face. "Oh for Merlin's sake, Hermione," she scolded. "It's not as if he'll be the first person to see you without a shirt."
And he wasn't; Ginny had seen her without a shirt, as had the twins when they'd accidentally walked in on her half-dressed in the bathroom. Harry had seen her on more than one occasion without a shirt when they were on the hunt and Viktor had seen her without a shirt, too, granted, she'd hadn't had nearly as many scars back then. But this was different. This was Oliver, the man she was going to marry. He was handsome and sweet and she loved him. Logically, she knew there was no need to be nervous but she was.
"Pull yourself together," Hermione chastised, shaking her head.
Taking a breath and before she had the chance to change her mind, she returned to her bedroom, seeing Oliver being exactly where she'd left him, only he observed her carefully the moment she reappeared.
"I have three scars and these are the largest. I'll show you two more," she said anxiously, nibbling at her lip. She climbed onto the bed, moving to sit in the centre and Oliver followed after her, seeing her fiddling with the bottom of her jersey.
"Why're ye fidgeting? Yer've nothin' tae be ashamed af," Oliver said softly.
She shrugged her shoulders, avoiding his gaze until Oliver placed his hand under her chin and tilted her head, forcing her to look at him. "A love ye, tha's all tha' matters. Naw more hiding, Sparrow."
"I love you," she echoed, Oliver beaming; he'd never tire of hearing her say that.
He leaned forward intending to give her a quick kiss but it soon went out of the window the moment Hermione looped her arms around his neck, flicked her tongue over his bottom lip and slipped her tongue into his parted mouth to twine and dance against his. She pulled him down on top of her and he hovered above her, his hands braced on either side of her head. Not being happy with the distance between them, Hermione tugged and he fell on top of her, crushing her into the mattress and before Oliver could register and freeze, thinking he'd overstepped the boundaries, Hermione rolled them and was promptly straddling him.
Hermione unconsciously shifted her hips, Oliver groaning and Hermione feeling a large bulge hardening in Oliver's jeans beneath her, she stilled for a moment. Should she continue? She hadn't gone any further than kissing with Oliver and their wedding night was only eight days away. She wanted to be comfortable when the night came and she loved him. Besides, she'd gone further with Viktor who'd pressured her for sex, whereas Oliver would always pull away before things got heated. With that in mind, Hermione made her decision.
Oliver was more than surprised when Hermione rolled them and rocked against him, the immediate action causing his restraint to break and for a hardened bulge to appear in his trousers. Hermione stilled above him and he wondered what her reaction would be, but before he knew it she was rocking her hips against him and he gripped her hips tightly, pushing himself into a sitting position. Their moans were caught in the other's mouths as she continued grinding against him and her hands found her way into his hair, tugging tightly.
Needing to breathe, Hermione drew back from him and pushed him onto his back with her hands against his chest, his dark, lustful eyes watching her for her next move, taking his cues from her. He certainly hadn't expected what happened next but neither was he complaining.
Hermione nibbled at her lip nervously and he knew it wasn't meant to affect him in such a way but it did; with her flushed cheeks, swollen lips and messy hair, she looked like a seductress. Slowly, Hermione crossed her arms and grasped the edge of her jersey, pulling it up over her head before throwing it off to the side. His breathing sped up, his grip on her hips tightened and his eyes widened as he tore his gaze from hers and allowed it travel down her elegant neck, over her suckable collarbone, down to her flushed and full breasts held snugly in her black and white bra and down to her taut stomach. She had never looked more beautiful with her anxious expression, lightly flushed cheeks, biting her lip and hair ruffled.
"Yer beautiful," Oliver muttered adoringly, Hermione's blush deepened.
"It doesn't bother you?" She questioned nervously.
Tilting his head in confusion, Hermione lifted her right hand and trailed her index finger down the valley of her breasts and he followed the movement with his eyes. That's when he noticed a long, thick scar that all but cut her torso in half. He lifted his hand and traced the scar with his fingers, Hermione not being able to help shuddering under his warm and gentle exploration.
"It doesn't bother mae," he promised. "In fact..." He sprang up, wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and flipped them so she was on her back and he was hovering over her, her squeak of surprise morphing into a laugh. "A think they make ye more beautiful an'..." He kissed and nibbled at her neck, Hermione sighing as she ran her hands through his hair. He moved lower, tracing the largest scar with his tongue and Hermione shuddered beneath him. "It gives mae somethin' else tae pay attention tae," he smirked.
Scowling in annoyance, she pulled him back down to her, latching her mouth onto his in a consuming kiss. Oliver was a little surprised by he was more than happy to reciprocate and kiss her just as passionately, they'd long since abandoned going about things languidly as they got lost in each other. Hermione's hands travelled down his back and she fiddled with the edge of his shirt before Oliver pulled away from her, grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, throwing it to the floor. Hermione pulled his back down to her and his mouth latched onto her neck, sucking and biting gently at her pulse point, determined to leave a mark as Hermione's hands traced over the muscle of Oliver's back and shoulders, committing them to memory.
Hermione hooked a leg around Oliver's waist and pulled him down so that his body pressed hers into the mattress, her hand finding their way to his chest and she mapped out every muscle, ridge and piece of skin, Oliver's muscles twitching under her soft and tender exploration. His mouth returned to hers, his hands slipping over her sides and stomach before slowly bringing them up to cup her breasts, giving her the chance to stop him. She didn't and when he covered them with his hands, squeezing and kneading gently, he caught her moan in his mouth, a sigh slipped from her lips and her hips jolted forward. Oliver took that as his cue and moved his hips against her, giving them both the friction they craved.
When Viktor had groped her, it had been exactly that. Groping; it was hurried, fumbled and he'd actually hurt her. But Oliver was very different. He touch was experienced, gentle, he took his time, learning her body. Hermione was soon lowering her hand down to Oliver's jeans and she unfastened the button and zip, slipping her hand beneath his underwear and she took him in her hand. She knew he was well endowed based on the fact her hand barely fit around him.
"Fuck, Hermione," he groaned in surprise, his body freezing above her and drawing his mouth from hers to stare down at her.
She put everything she'd leaned with Viktor to good use and slowly moved her hand over his length, a groan falling from his mouth and he readjusted his positioning, supporting himself on his elbows and his face burying against her neck. Hermione shifted his jeans and boxers down until his erection sprang free from its confinement and with more space for movement, she swiped her thumb over his head, gathering the leaking liquid and using it to her advantage. She made it a point to pay attention to his breathing and responses, learning what he seemed to react to and what he didn't.
Whispering a spell Viktor had taught her, a cold, wet lubricant covered Hermione's hand, making her movements easier and Oliver groaned loudly in appreciation. She added a twisting motion with her wrist and tightened her grip and Oliver bucked his hips, Hermione feeling a sense of feminine pride that she was able to affect him so. She quickened her movements to match his breathing and increased the pressure at which she gripped him and at one point, she carefully dragged her nails over him, strangled groan caught in his throat. Turning her head, she caught his earlobe between her teeth and she tugged, the action sending him over the edge.
He bucked his hips, spilling into her hand and with a muffled 'Hermione' into her neck. As Hermione removed her hand from around him, she muttered a spell to clean them both. Oliver tucked himself back into his boxers and jeans, shifted to get more comfortable and then turned his wider than usual eyes to her, seeing Hermione's anxious expression.
"Tha' was the best handjob a've ev'r had," he muttered, his chest still rising and falling a little too quickly to be normal.
Hermione snorted, giving him a look of scepticism. "Yeah, right, I know I'm nowhere near as experienced as you, so there's no need to lie to me to make me feel better."
"Honestly, Sparrow, am not lying. Where'd ye learn tae do tha'?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Viktor taught me the basics and then I just learned to do things my own way, it's instinctual."
Giving her an intensely heated look, he latched onto her mouth, his hand slowly travelling down her stomach before coming to rest at the waistband of her cotton shorts, his fingers fiddling with the material. Feeling her stiffen beneath him, he drew back from her, seeing her worried expression.
"What is it?" She shook her head, refusing to answer. "Come on, tell mae. Where did Viktor touch ye? Here?" His other hand trailed over the top of her breasts and she nodded. "Hoo 'bout here?" The other hand played with the edge of her shorts and she shook her head. "Why?"
"Because he didn't; he never reciprocated, everything was always about him," she shrugged.
His brow furrowed into an unhappy frown. "Anno ye told mae he never gave ye an orgasm," he stated, seeing her blushing at his words. "But dinnae he ev'r try...?"
"No, he told me it was a girlfriend's job to take care of her boyfriend's needs and to never expect anything in return," she blushed furiously. "He told me girls couldn't orgasm and that if they did, it would take too long to get them there."
Oliver stared in horrified surprise, his mouth parting slightly. After hearing about the way he'd treated her before, he didn't particularly like Bulgarian, but now, he was furious, horrified.
"Of course, I was only fifteen at the time and so naive, he was my first boyfriend and the only person to ever take an interest in me. It didn't bother me that he wouldn't even try because when he was satisfied, he backed off a little about pressuring me for sex. It wasn't until a year later that I realised he'd lied to me. I'd overheard a lot of girls talking about their sexual experiences and they didn't notice me as I always had my head stuck in a book, but I wasn't always reading; I was sometimes listening."
"Am sorry he treated ye tha' way, ye dinnae deserve it."
"It wasn't your fault, you've never even met him and since you're older, you'd already graduated."
"Still, am sorry. So, yer've honestly never had an orgasm?" She blushed. "Not even from yerself?"
"No, I never felt the urge to, with the war going on and my hectic life, I was otherwise occupied and the thought wasn't appealing to me."
"A can help," he grinned.
"You don't have to, I probably won't be able to anyway; I can never relax and switch my brain off."
"Challenge accepted," he grinned, an arrogant look crossing his face and before she could protest, he crashed his mouth against hers and kissed her passionately.
His hands and mouth roamed her body, being sure to pay attention to kissing her neck and massaging her breasts. After a few moments, Hermione was wriggling beneath him and he trailed his right hand down to her shorts and traced his fingers along the edge. He pulled away from her, looking to her questioningly and desire her nervous expression, she bit her lip and nodded, giving her permission for him to take things further.
He returned to kissing her, his right hand slipping beneath her shorts and being sure to remain above her knickers for the time being. When he reached her centre, he sucked in a breath when he felt the damp fabric and the heat radiating from her. Moving his mouth from hers, he latched onto her neck and collar bone, rubbing his finger over her clothing covered slit, working her up. It didn't take long until she was wriggling and moaning softly, looking for more friction. He pressed his thumb again her nub and her eyes shot open, a fairly loud moan being torn from her lips and it had his length twitching.
"Hermione?" Oliver questioned huskily.
She nodded to his unasked question and he slipped his hand under her knickers, allowing skin on skin contact and he continued where he'd left off, rubbing circles over her nub and running his fingers through her slick folds. Unexpectedly, he slipped a finger into her and slowly moved it in and out of her, Hermione gasping, her back arching and body pressing into his. Carefully, a second digit jointed the first and it was soon followed by a third, stretching her tight entrance. Hermione gasped under the discomfort before it faded and she grew lost in the pleasure Oliver was giving her, something she'd never felt before.
Peering at her, she had her eyes closed tightly, her lips were parted, her breathing coming out in fast and short puffs of air and she wriggled beneath him. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Noticing the signs of her impending orgasm, he kissed her neck before he whispered in her ear,
"Let go, Sparrow, stop thinking."
He kissed the tops of her breasts before sucking on the skin and leaving a love bite on the top of her right breast. When he gave a hard push on her nub and crooked his fingers in a 'come hither' motion inside her, the coil within Hermione snapped and the dam burst. She cried Oliver's name, her hands clutching the blanket beneath her tightly, her teeth sinking in her lip.
When Hermione's walls clamped down on Oliver's fingers, he groaned under the feeling and he couldn't wait for their wedding night when it wouldn't be his fingers that were inside her. And he was more than pleased to learn that his future wife was quite loud, he'd be sure to have the apartment filled with her cries often. Hermione's body shook and she worked to get her breathing back under control and she slumped into the mattress. Oliver removed his hand from her shorts and looked at her in awe, seeing her hair covering the pillow in a halo of girls and her skin had a delightful blush going down to the top of her breasts. When Hermione was able to breathe again, her eyes fluttered open to see Oliver's pleased expression.
"Viktor's a tosser," she commented, startling a laugh from Oliver.
She gave a slight wave of her hand, whispering a spell to clean them both once more. Oliver looked to her in surprise: he hadn't imagined it, that was the third time she'd done wandless magic.
"Hermione, when a asked ye if there was somethin' else ye needed tae tell mae, why dinnae ye mention ye can do wandless magic?" He asked, giving her an odd look.
"I thought you already knew," she replied honestly. "It's not like it's a secret, I do wandless magic all the time, but it's not surprising given my ancestry of pent up Squib magic. I can do some non-verbal magic, too, and some spells I can do both but it requires a lot of concentration whereas wandless magic's easy for me. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I honestly thought you'd already noticed."
"Ye never cease tae amaze mae," he muttered, pressing a kiss to her mouth.
"I could say the same about you," she smiled, pushing his hair out of his eyes and he turned, pressing a kiss to her palm.
"When do ye wanna go shopping fer wedding rings?" He asked.
"How about tomorrow after training?" She suggested, Oliver nodding in agreement.
~000~000~000~
Wood Apartment - Thursday 23rd July 1998
Oliver woke that morning to something tickling his chin and a heavy weight on his chest. Opening his eyes groggily and blinking to clear his vision, a smile tugged at his mouth when he peered down to see Hermione sleeping soundly, her head resting on his naked chest and her arm thrown around his waist. In return, he had an arm hooked around her waist, keeping her close to him. Hermione was, too, shirtless, and he was curious to see how she'd react once she woke and realised that fact.
Silently, he allowed his fingers to explore the length of her back, feeling three raised scars. His curiosity now piqued, he tried to catch a glimpse but was unable to. When he shifted to get more comfortable, Hermione made a small sound of protest before she rolled off him and onto her stomach, Oliver taking the opportunity to look at her back. He swept her hair out of the way and instantly caught sight of the three slightly raised but faded scars in the shape of claw marks. It started at the back of her right shoulder and went to the centre of her back towards her left side, stopping opposite the centre of her left shoulder. It didn't take a genius to figure out what caused them.
Softly, he traced them with his fingers, the movement waking Hermione. Releasing a groggy grumble, she rolled to face, smiling at him sleepily.
"Morning," he greeted softly.
"Morning," she replied, stretching with her hands above her head and the movement pushed out her chest, Oliver zeroing in on it. "What're you looking at?" She puzzled.
He brought his eyes back up to hers and then flittered them back down to her cleavage. She followed his gaze, a blush darkening her cheeks.
"I don't see what so special about them," she mumbled embarrassedly, trying to cover herself with the blanket and Oliver frowned.
"They're perfect," he disagreed, his finger moving to trace the tops of the mounds.
"They're not, Viktor said they were average."
Oliver glowered. "Yer boobs aren't average, they're perfect. They're the right size tae fit in m hands perfectly, they're soft an' firm an' perky," he listed, her blush darkening.
"Why are we talking about my boobs?" She asked, partially embarrassed, partially amused.
"Ye started it," he shrugged, amused. "Ye still wanna go shopping after training tanight?" She nodded. "A thought ye said ye had a scar on yer left arm," he frowned, seeing there wasn't a mark or blemish in sight.
"There is, I've placed Glamour Charms over it and covered it with makeup to be sure it doesn't show. I don't like looking at it; it reminds me of her," she explained, her hand coming up to trace over the mark on his neck, a smug smile tugging at her mouth. Seeing this, his eyebrow raised, knowing from the attention she'd paid to his neck the previous night, she'd left a love bite.
"Don' look so smug, ye have twa; one on yer neck an' one here," he traced the bruise on the top of her right breast, chuckling at her scowl.
"This isn't the first time you've given me a love bite, is it?"
"Naw," he grinned, it didn't falter when she smacked him on the arm.
"That's why they were laughing at me!"
"Who?"
"Your mother, Fleur and Mrs. Weasley, when we went dress shopping, they were always laughing and whispering between themselves, watching me when they thought I wasn't looking." He laughed at her. "Well, payback's a bitch, just wait until the team sees that on your neck," she laughed. Oliver scowled, knowing she was right.
~000~000~000~
Diagon Alley
Hermione and Oliver entered the jewellers, the little bell above the door jingling as they crossed over to the counter with Quaffle sitting by the door obediently. The moment the owner stepped from the back room, his face lit up.
"Mr. Wood, Miss. Granger, what can I do for you?" He asked excitedly.
"We'd like to look at your collection of wedding bands, please," Hermione answered, smiling kindly.
"Of course, of course, this way!" He led them over to the right side of the squared 'U' shaped glass counter to where all the engagement and wedding jewellery was located. "What metal are you looking for?"
"White gold tae match Hermione's ring," Oliver replied, the owner nodding thoughtfully.
Spending a few minutes looking over the selection on show, they didn't see anything they liked or agreed on.
"You say that you wish for the wedding band to match the engagement ring?" Oliver nodded at the older man's question. "Well, we can have a wedding band made to match the ring. A white gold band with diamonds, rubies and tanzanite embedded into the metal," he said.
"And Oliver's ring?" Hermione questioned.
"If you would like the wedding bands to match, we can make Mr. Wood's band slightly thicker as customary with men's jewellery."
"I imagine that will be expensive, he's already spent far too much on my engagement ring," Hermione frowned, her eyes falling to her left hand.
"We'll have them made," Oliver rolled his eyes.
Hermione protested immediately and a few moments later, Oliver had his way and the owner drew up a quick design of what the finished product would look like, Oliver quickly signing off on the plans.
"Can we have them engraved?" Hermione asked.
"Of course, Miss. Granger, if you make a note of what you wish to be written, it will be done."
Taking some scrap parchment and a quill each, they both made a note of their intended engravings, neither looking at the other's.
"They will be ready for pickup on Monday," the owner informed them, Hermione sighing in relief they'd be ready before the wedding.