CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
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.
Page count: 17
Puddlemere United Stadium - Wednesday 19th August 1998
"That's my Herm-own-ninny..." He muttered by her ear. "You alvays know how to take charge."
The moment his breath ghosted over her skin and lips pressed to her neck, something inside her snapped. She pushed back against him, taking him by surprise and when he stepped back, she ducked under his arm and stepped out of reach, turning to face him.
"Viktor," said Hermione, doing her best to keep her expression blank and her voice calm, disinterested. "What are you doing here?"
He smiled at her, a gesture she recognised and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I haff come to see my Herm-own-ninny, ov course. I haff missed you," he replied, taking a step towards her but she took a step farther out of his reach, her clipboard held against her chest, her fingers gripping it tightly, seeing his eyes slowly taking in the changes of her body since he'd last seen her, four years ago.
That day, as they'd entered summer and it was quite a warm day, she'd opted to wear a white spaghetti strap top, a pair of blue washed denim shorts and white converse on her feet. When his eyes landed on that of her exposed tattoos, his eyebrow arched in surprise.
"You haff changed," he observed.
"You haven't," she replied evenly.
He looked exactly the same as he had her fourth year. Black hair cut short, dark eyes, six-foot-three, broad shoulders and all muscle. He didn't have the typical build of a Seeker, which is one of the reasons the public loved him so. Seekers were slim and fast, Viktor was not, rather, he had the ideal build for a Beater.
"What are you doing here?"
"I vanted to see you; it has been long time."
"How did you know I was here?"
"It vos going 'round all Quidditch teams that my Herm-own-ninny Granger vos the new Junior Coach for a British League Team. The youngest in the vorld, and on record."
"And you're here now, because?" She prompted.
"I haff told you, I had to see you. You are mine."
"No, I am not," she said forcefully, her body stiffening in anger. "We broke up when you cheated on me, four years ago."
"You could not give me vhat I needed, so I find some vho vill," he shrugged his large shoulders, unconcerned and unapologetic. "But now, I haff come to collect vhat is rightvully mine. Your purity."
He stalked forward, her eyes hardened and she moved out of his reach.
"I am not yours, Viktor. I am now a married woman and my husband is a wonderful man," she informed him, deliberately shifting her wedding ring towards the sunlight so it reflected, his eyes being drawn to her left ring finger, showcasing she was speaking the truth.
He halted in his steps, his features twisting into an unhappy scowl. "You are not pure?"
"No, I'm not; I saved myself for my husband, whom I love very much."
"You give avay vhat is not yours to give?"
"Excuse me," her voice rose in pitch. "You do not own me, Viktor. You weren't nice to me when we were dating and I see you haven't changed. How dare you presume that I would save myself for you? I am not and will not be another notch on your belt. My husband is a kind, generous and caring man and I love him. I'm glad that I could give that part of myself to him rather than being pressured into giving it to you."
It was quite clear that he didn't appreciate honesty, his hands balling into fists, his form tensing and he slowly closed the distance. He was trying to intimidate her but Hermione wasn't backing down.
Unknown to them, at the arrival of the unexpected visitor, the attention of the players above had been drawn and as one, they all flew down to the coach's box, dismounting their brooms, right at the moment of Viktor Krum (someone no one had been expecting a visit from) all but demanding that Hermione give herself to him.
Instinctively, Pallie and Thompson both took hold of Oliver's arms, holding him back when he made to intervene, his expression dark and furious.
"Let her deal with it," said Pallie, his eyes darting between him, Hermione and Viktor.
"I suggest you don't come any closer, Viktor," Hermione warned. "I will not be held responsible for the Bulgarian National Team's Seeker being admitted to hospital."
He scoffed. "You vouldn't hurt me, you luff. I know you vant me. I vill bed you," he replied confidently.
She tracked his movements carefully and he was getting too close for comfort, but before she drew her wand, Oliver struggled free from his restraint, his broom and teammates forgotten as he charged forward, slotting himself between Viktor and Hermione before his hand balled into a fist and collided with Viktor's face.
The force of the punch, catching Viktor off guard and his larger frame, all combined to result in the Bulgarian Seeker tipping towards the floor. The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
A gasp fell from Hermione's mouth, her clipboard clattering against the ground as her wide eyes darted between Viktor and Oliver's murderous expression. He was furious.
Slowly lifting his gaze, Viktor wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth before he rose to his feet, his dark eyes locked on Oliver as his hand balled into a fist.
Whilst her husband was fast and athletic with the build of a Keeper, Viktor was taller, his shoulders broader and his muscle mass bigger. In a physical fight, whilst she was sure Oliver would be capable of handling himself, put up against Viktor, someone bigger than him, it wasn't a fair fight. And so, she intervened the best way she knew how.
"Oliver Charles Wood!" She snapped. "My office! Now!"
His eyes darted to her, widening slightly. He was the one in trouble? Not a chance in hell was he allowing that to happen. He'd been defending her!
"Am not someone ye can order aboot!" He own voice rose, his body partially turning towards her, his angry eyes locking on her. "Am yer bloody husband!"
"When we're here I am your Coach! That was on order, Captain. If I have to bench you, I will. Now get your arse to my office!" She ordered.
They stared at one another unflinchingly, neither wanting to be the first to back down before Oliver growled, spun on his heel, speared Viktor with a look of hatred and shoved past him, disappearing up the stands and into the building.
"I knew you vouldn't let that pretty boy get avay vith it. I knew you still luffed me," Viktor's eyes flashed smugly.
Her eyes snapped to him. "As for you, Viktor," she began coldly. "I am not yours, I never have been and I never will be. And that 'pretty boy' is my husband and he just knocked you on your arse," she argued, hearing the sniggers coming from behind her. If Oliver had overheard, she knew the team had as well. "I love him and what I do with my husband is none of your business. I will not now nor will I ever sleep with you and I will never look at you or anyone else the way I look at him."
She lifted her left wrist, the golden band proudly sparkling in the sunlight. His eyes darted to it, a slight crease forming at his brow before recognition seemed to light his eyes.
"Oh, so you do know what it is? Lovely. Now you see, I was never yours. From the moment I was born, I belonged to Oliver. I am his for eternity and he is mine. Leave me alone the hell alone, and go bother some other witch who isn't me."
She took satisfaction in the way his mouth had parted and his eyes had widened as his gaze darted between her face and her wrist.
"And just we're clear, Oliver is the Captain of this team, he's considered to be one of the best Keepers in the British league and before we married, he was one of Britain's most eligible bachelors. He is a Pureblood, comes from a noble, wealthy and kind family and is very talented in many areas. You are no better than him. In my eyes, he is better than you."
No longer giving him her attention, she spun around to see the gathered players all whispering between one another and she opened her beaded bag, retrieved the brown paper bag holding their lunch and she threw it towards Thompson, trusting the Seeker to catch it.
"You can have an early lunch. Someone, please escort Mr. Krum out of the building whilst I attend to an urgent matter."
"Sure thing, Junior... I mean, Hermione," Bishop corrected quickly, giving her a nervous smile.
With one last look to the team, she turned and approached Viktor, stopping at his side.
"By the way, telling me that women couldn't orgasm was ridiculous. Perhaps that just goes to show your lack of talent," she jibed in a mutter. And just to twist the knife in a little further, she added, "You know, Oliver once got me to orgasm without touching me?"
Taking pleasure in his disbelief of both the statement and that she'd spoken it without a single care, she continued in her steps until she reached her office.
Stepping inside, it was to see Oliver pacing back and forth, furiously glaring down at the floor as if he might be able to burn a hole into it. Slamming the door shut, she quickly threw up a Locking and Silencing Charm and at the sound, Oliver halted in his steps, his angry expression darted to her and his mouth opened, no doubt to release a furious tirade.
But his words were lost when Hermione launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around him, her mouth pressing against his and with the force of the collision, they tipped backwards, landing on the soft leather couch. Surprised, his hands settled on her upper arms, forcing her back from him so he might look at her.
"I'm not mad at you," she promised. "I just had to make it look as though I was and I'm sorry for yelling at you. You did what I wanted to do, but I would've broken my hand given he's double my weight and bigger than me. I admit there are easier ways to handle such an incident but punching him in the face worked all the same." His expression had quickly morphed from anger, to confusion, to surprise. Smiling at him, she took his bruising hand in her own, allowing her magic to heal it before she pressed her lips to each of his knuckles. "I love you. Thank you for defending me."
He cleared his throat. "Yer me wife," he said softly. "A will always defend ye."
"And I you," she smiled. "Viktor called you a 'pretty boy' but he was wrong."
"He was?" He tipped his head slightly.
"Yes, you're not a pretty boy; you're a handsome young man, Mr. Wood," she said, reaching up, she brushed his hair back from his eyes.
"An' yer an incredibly beautiful young woman, Mrs. Wood," he smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears and she leaned into his touch. "What did ye say tae Viktor Dumb?"
She snorted at his grin, rolling her eyes. "I may have jabbed at his talent in the bedroom."
"Hoo?"
"Well, I mentioned that you once gave me an orgasm without touching me, and, that if he had to convince a girl that she couldn't orgasm, it reflects badly on his ability to perform."
Laughing fell from him, Hermione being jostled when his body shook, feeling it rumbling in his chest against hers.
"Ye never cease tae amaze mae."
Lifting his head, Hermione accepted his kiss, soon drawing back from him and unfastening the ties on his bottoms, shifting them and his underwear down until his length sprung free. She wrapped her hand around him, feeling his hands move to grip at her hips and snaking beneath her top, his fingers pressing into her skin with each pump of her hand.
Looking down at him with a tilted head, watching the puffs of air leaving his parted mouth and him struggling to keep his eyes locked on hers, she decided she wanted to do something for him, something she hadn't done before. Oral sex. Whilst Oliver had introduced her to it on their wedding night, using it as a way to help her relax, it hadn't happened since and neither had she had the courage to bring it up in conversation. Not that it mattered, she supposed. There was never much foreplay happened between them as they were both always so impatient.
After secretly speaking with Fleur and reading through a few books, she felt she could at least give it a try. She'd never felt the need to do so a thing even if she had been a little curious, but unless she tried it, she couldn't be certain if she liked it. In theory, she knew she could do it, she just had to put her knowledge to practice. It was an experiment, she told herself, something of a way to calm her nerves.
Taking a breath, she slipped away from him and onto her knees before the couch, Oliver feeling her retreat, automatically sitting up and planting his feet on the ground, his eyes quickly widening at seeing her current kneeling position, her intentions clear.
"Hermione, ye don' have tae do anything tha' makes ye uncomfortable. A'll never pressure ye intae anything," he told her.
His expression and his words solidified her decision into wanting to do this for him. In wanting to try.
"I know, but I want to do this for you," she admitted, feeling her cheeks flush with heat whilst his eyes carefully searched her face. "Just... tell me if I do it wrong."
Not wanting to give him time to argue further, allow herself time to second-guess her decision or allow the nerves to get the best of her, she took a quick breath, pulled her hair over one shoulder so it was out of the way and she leaned over, her hands sliding over his thighs before she gripped his length in her hand.
Nervously, her tongue darted out and swiped over the slit that leaked pre-come, Hermione being glad to find that it didn't taste as bad as she was expecting, whilst Oliver hissed in surprise, fisting his hands tightly by his sides to prevent him from burying them in her hair. This was her first time; he didn't want to risk startling her in which she might accidentally hurt him. He wanted to allow her to take it at her own pace, no matter how torturous it was.
Darting a glance to him, she placed a shy kiss on the head before slowly taking him into her mouth, sucking lightly, hearing his choked groan. She lowered her head, taking more of him into her mouth before she pulled back, repeating the process until she'd taken as much of him in her mouth as possible, having read that she needed to flatten her tongue and relax her throat. Luckily, with her parents having been dentists, she didn't have a gag reflex.
Hearing his surprised groan, Hermione felt a sense of accomplishment fill her and although he was too big to fit into her mouth entirely, she was pleased that she'd managed a little more than half the length, her hand covering the remainder, her wrist using a twisting motion as she worked him over. Her confidence was slowly building, Oliver's hisses and groans more than helping to boost her ego, and so, she increased the speed of her hand movements and she sucked harder, experimentally and carefully dragging her teeth over his length. Oliver's eyes snapped open, staring down at Hermione in surprise with puffs of air falling from his mouth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took.
When lifted her gaze curiously, gazing at him from beneath her lashes with her mouth and hand still wrapped around him... It was his undoing.
He tried to warn her but she didn't take notice, continuing with her movements until a curse sounded from him and his hips jerked forward as he found his release in Hermione's mouth. Surprised, her eyes flew open; she knew what she had to do, if she drew back, it'd make a mess and if she didn't, she nothing or nowhere to spit into, again, making a mess. Resigning herself, she closed her eyes and she swallowed.
When he slumped into the couch, she drew back from him, doing her best not to throw up whilst she summoned a bottle of water from her beaded bad and drank half of it in one go, rinsing out her mouth.
When she set the water bottle aside and turned back to him, she squeaked when Oliver's mouth crashed against hers, his tongue parting her lips, the taste of him still lingering, a groan rumbling in his chest because he knew why it was there. It was something he'd never forget.
"Perfect," Oliver drew back, resting his forehead against hers, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "Ev'rything ye do is perfect."
"You don't have to lie to me," she muttered in embarrassment. "I know it wasn't that good."
"It was perfect," he argued, "Especially tha' it was yer first time. Have a ever lied tae ye?"
"Does the engagement ring count?"
"Naw," he pulled back so he could look down at her. "A've never lied tae ye an' am not lying now. Yer the only witch tae ev'r get mae aff in less than five minutes." She looked to him shyly. "Am being honest," he promised. "Where did ye even learn ta do all tha'?"
She shrugged. "I talked with Fleur and read a few books and the rest was just instinct, I suppose. I don't have a gag reflex, which was useful."
"A havnae seen any books aboot sex."
"I hid them in the library behind my arithmancy books," she said sheepishly.
He snorted, giving his head a shake. "Nice hiding place," he complimented.
A grin finding its way onto his face, he pulled her onto the couch before falling to the ground before her on his knees, his mouth placing soft kisses to her thighs, inching his way up until his hands reached for the zip on her denim shorts.
"You don't have to, I didn't expect anything in return," she interrupted, feeling the heat filling her cheeks.
"Anno, which only makes mae wanna do it more," he replied, holding gaze. Nibbling at her lip, she lifted her hips so he might pull her shorts down her legs, a groan falling from him upon seeing the black lace boy shorts. "Remind mae tae buy Fleur a thank ye gift."
"We've already bought her one and she loved it," she reminded.
"Well, am buying her another one."
With that, he leaned closer and kissed her, her hands finding their way into his hair and he groaned when she tugged. His left hand rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles against her skin and his right hand trailed down to her underwear, ghosting over the delicate lace, a smile pulling at his mouth when she moaned and bucked against him, searching for friction. Giving her what she wanted, he slipped his beneath the lace and manoeuvred so he could slip two fingers into her entrance and rub circles on her nub with her thumb. Hermione broke away from the kiss, whimpering and moaning, her hips moving against him.
Knowing she was close, he drew back from her, chuckling at her noise and scowl of disapproval before he made quick work of drawing her underwear away from her and down her legs, later taking a hold of her legs, tugging her down the couch until she lay flat and he tossed her legs over his shoulders, holding her in place. Not allowing her the chance to argue with him, his buried his face against her, using his mouth and tongue to bring her undone, his eyes focused on watching her facial expressions, on watching her lose control.
When he brought her to that point, it sent a ripple of pleasure through her like a tidal wave and Hermione found her release with Oliver lapping up her juices happily until she all but begged him to stop.
Lowering her legs and feet to the ground, he'd barely had time to wipe his face before she launched herself at him, and as it was unexpected, Oliver's back hit the ground and Hermione scrambled to straddle him, seeming to not care for where his mouth had been as she latched her mouth onto his hair, her hands burying in his hair.
Groaning, he folded his arms around her, keeping her against him and before either of them knew it, she had her hand wrapped around him and positioned at her entrance before she sank onto him, her head tipping back and her breath catching. Leaning forward and setting her hands against the ground on either side of Oliver's head for balance, she kissed him as she worked her hips over him, Oliver pushing into her from beneath, meeting each of his thrusts.
When he brought her to the edge and shoved her off it, she was sure to drag him along with her, her mouth latching onto his scarred neck from where she'd bitten him countless times during their short time being married. It was never going to heal, Hermione realised, particularly with the full moon being once a month and feeling territorial every time a girl looked at him, but Oliver didn't mind; he found it amusing and he was always teasing her for her behaviour.
Hermione tiredly slumped on top of him and Oliver wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his nose burying in her hair.
"I want you to do something for me," said Hermione, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around them.
"Hmmm?"
"I want you to make me a list."
"Af?"
"Of your fantasies."
"What?" He blurted out.
"I want you to make me a list of your sexual fantasies," she clarified.
He was not expecting that.
"Only if ye make mae a list af yers," he negotiated.
"I don't have any."
"A don' believe ye."
"Honestly, I don't have any. I suppose I've never really thought about it before. But, if I do think of something, I'll let you know," she promised.
"We should get back tae the team," Oliver said after a few moments of silence had passed.
"I gave them an early lunch, granted, it was only fifteen minutes, but still..."
"Hoo should we play it?"
"They know me well enough by now, so they know I wasn't mad at you. There's no point in acting as such or that we've had a big private argument." He chuckled at her. "We'll get some teasing but that's okay, I'll allow it given that it's a match day and everyone's a little stressed. I'm sorry for taking out my frustration on you all. I don't know how Coach managed by himself for thirteen years, I can barely do it for a few hours."
"Yer selling yerself short. Yer a doing a great job putting up with those idiots." She chuckled. "The first hour ye were really laying intae us but then yeu calmed yerself an' made training fun. Ye had us imagine the bludgers were Mary, ye scolded Malloy, ye played catch the levitated golf ball with Thompson an' ye set Kings on Bishop," he laughed. "Jus' do what ye normally do. Keep us in line, keep us on track, force-feed us, keep us training, send us ta get ready an' then yell at us from the coach's box during the match when someone does something wrong." Hermione smiled against his chest before pressing a kiss over the fabric of his jumper. "What were ye talking tae Thompson aboot?"
"I'll tell you later, right now, we'd better get you fed before there's no food left."
~000~000~000~
Descending the stands and approaching the time, Hermione saw Thompson cradling his snitch hand to his chest whilst the team were crowded around him, clapping him on the back as he beamed proudly. That wasn't a good sign.
Rushing forward, she cried, "What the hell happened?"
Taking his injured hand in her own, her eyes darting to him when he hissed in pain, she drew her wand, muttering diagnostic charms beneath her breath. He had two breaks in his hand and a sprained wrist. She couldn't heal him as a Healer might, she'd have to use her natural healing. Whilst they did have a Healer on standby at the stadium, for obvious reasons, but they had a match later that day, a match Thompson had to play in if they wished to keep a tight hold on their first place lead in the league. His injury would take at least twenty-four hours to heal should a Healer get involved. She had to be the one to do it.
"I punched Krum," he answered proudly.
"Why?"
"Because he deserved it," he shrugged, giving her a look only she would understand. And she did. Obviously, the conversation they'd had was a bad idea, not to mention, he'd evidently heard the things Viktor had said to her. "I broke his nose," he grinned and Oliver laughed and clapped him on the shoulder in a show of pride and thanks.
"Continue with lunch, you, come with me," she said, pinning him with a look that dared him to argue before she turned and returned to her office with Thompson following behind her.
Stepping inside, she erected a Silencing Charm and gestured for him to sit beside her on the couch, Hermione taking his injured hand and setting it palm down against her left palm, the Seeker yelping in pain when she un-balled his hand so it was flat. Ignoring it, she lifted her right hand, hovering it over his hand with a small golden glow appearing as his bones healed and the pain disappeared. Staring in surprise, he slowly drew his hand back, flexing it, feeling no pain or discomfort.
"How?" He spluttered.
She sighed, pushing her hair back from her face. "You can't tell anyone," she warned and he nodded instantly. "I'm a natural healer."
His mouth dropped open.
"No way!" He whispered excitedly. "That's why Wood was healed so quickly the day of the first match of the season, wasn't it? How badly was he really hurt? He said it was just a few broken bones."
"He did have some broken bones, but he also had internal bleeding and organ damage. He would've died if I hadn't used my abilities to heal him."
"That's why you're a licensed healer. It makes sense now!" He shook his head. "You and Oliver share the Golden Bond?" He questioned despite knowing the answer, he'd seen the marking on her wrists. And although he'd never seen one before, there was no mistaking it for what it was. "That's why he's so protective of you and you of him. It's why he's not interested in anyone else and hasn't batted an eye at any other witch since meeting you. It's why he wanted to marry you."
"Yes, it is," she agreed.
"My parents told me stories as a child but I didn't think I'd ever see one. I didn't even believe they were real."
"They are," she confirmed. "Now, did Viktor leave?"
"Yeah, security all but dragged him out. Apparently, he has tickets to the match this afternoon and I had to point out the fact that the stadium wasn't open to the public until game time. And then I punched him in the nose," he grinned. "I'd do it again, too," he vowed.
Sighing, she said, "He's here scouting, checking out the competition. He knows about the games that are being organised and he wants to know what he's up against."
"What do we do?" He frowned.
"We give him something to be afraid of. We give him a reason to worry about us."
"We're going to kick his arse," Thompson promised confidently.
"You'd better work on that Wronski Feint first," she laughed. "Now, let's get back to the team, I need to tell them about the matches during the training season. Maybe it will light a fire under their arses."
~000~000~000~
"AN IMPRESSIVE SAVE BY OLIVER WOOD! PUDDLEMERE TAKES POSSESSION OF THE QUAFFLE! MALLOY PASSES TO BISHOP, WHO PASSES BACK TO MALLOY, WHO PASSES TO PALLIE. THEY ARE MAKING THEIR WAY TO THE TORNADOES HOOPS!" The commentator called excitedly, his voice magnified by the Sonorous Charm. "WHOA! REMARKABLE HIT BY KINGS WHO KNOCKS AWAY TORNADOES CHASER, GREEN! A BRILLIANT HIT, INDEED.!"
"AND AN IMPRESSIVE DODGE OF A BLUDGER BY PALLIE! PUDDLEMERE IS ON FIRE THIS EVENING, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! PALLIE ENTERS THE SCORING ZONE AND HE THROWS THE QUAFFLE... AND IT'S A GOAL! BRINGING THE SCORES TO 400-150. THE TORNADOES REALLY NEED TO PICK UP THE SLACK IF THEY WANT TO WIN THIS MATCH. THOMPSON'S SPOTTED THE SNITCH AND HE'S OFF... JENSON'S HOT ON THOMPSON'S BROOM, BUT IT'S TOO LATE! THOMPSON CAUGHT THE SNITCH. IT'S ANOTHER WIN FOR PUDDLEMERE!"
Hermione cried and screamed as she dropped her clipboard to the ground, jumping and cheering. The team shook hands with the other team's players and did a quick victory lap around the pitch, taking in the cheers and boos of the fans.
Thompson was the first to reach the coach's box and he dismounted his broom and picked up a cheering Hermione in his arms, spinning her in circles. He set her back on her feet and one by one, the team dismounted their brooms and ran over to hug her in the same fashion as Thompson.
Oliver was the last to touch down and dismount his broom, Hermione disentangling from Bishop and darting over to him, jumping into Oliver's arms and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He laughed gleefully as she hugged him tightly and shouted praise into his ear before pulling back and passionately kissing him. When they heard wolf whistles from the team, Oliver gave them the middle finger whilst his eyes remained closed and he smiled into the kiss. Drawing back, Hermione and Oliver's laughter mixed with the team's.
"Told ye ye could do it, Coach," he said and she beamed at him. "Taday was the best training session we've had." She leaned down and kissed him again before Oliver put her down and she turned to face the team.
"Three more matches. As long as we win at least two of them, we're in the Final!" They cheered loudly and Hermione laughed. "Celebration party? Where's it happening?"
"Your apartment," Pallie grinned cheekily. "Best fun we've had in ages," he told her, the team nodding and chorusing in agreement.
"Well, then I guess it's a good thing Oliver and I went shopping last night to get you lot alcohol, both wizarding and muggle."
The team cheered and Hermione laughed.
"We're starting a new tradition, celebration parties at Wood Apartment, all the time," Bishop said. The team cheered and Oliver grumbled but Hermione saw his lip twitch.
~000~000~000~
Wood Apartment
"I've never noticed this before," Pallie remarked as Hermione approached, standing before the fish tank. Smiling, he took the tumbler of fire whiskey from her.
"On our third date, I took Oliver to a theme park in the Muggle World and he won a goldfish on one of the game booths on one of the games there. I took him into Muggle London to purchase everything he needed to keep the fish alive, and not only did he buy another two fish whilst there, but, he also bought this huge tank because he wanted his fish to have 'plenty of room so they could grow'." Pallie laughed at her when she rolled her eyes.
"How'd you get it to look like that?" He tipped his head, referring to the Puddlemere logo on the back of the glass, the Hogwarts castle, the Keeper hoops, the Quidditch players that floated in the water and the golden snitch, bludgers and quaffle.
"Transfiguration and charms, it was good practice for my upcoming NEWTs. Oliver loves his fish. He sometimes just sits on the floor and watches them for hours, I don't understand the fascination, I'm bought after about five minutes as watching them swim circles," she said, sharing a laugh with him.
"What are ye twa laughing at?" Asked Oliver, coming up behind Hermione and snaking his arms around her stomach, his chin sitting atop her shoulder.
"Nothing," they chimed innocently.
Oliver snorted. "Right, 'coz a believe tha'. The twins wanna play truth or dare," Oliver told her.
"Oh God, no," Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Never have I ever had been bad enough but at least there'd been restrictions. There wasn't with truth or dare. By the end of the night, she was certain there'd been one of two injuries. Perhaps she might sneak away and leave the boys to their own devices, but in doing so, she knew it would end in injuries without her supervision.
"I need more alcohol in my system for that," she grumbled, hearing their snorts. "This should be fun," she said sarcastically. "I wish I never taught them that game."
They all gathered in a group, Hermione and Oliver on the armchair, the twins on the couch closest to them and the team all squeezed onto the corner suite, the couch and the floor, all of them with drinks in hand and Quaffle was happily snuggled by the armchair, sleeping.
"Who's going first?" Asked Hermione, sipping from her drink after the rules had been explained. "And remember, nothing illegal. We can't risk any bad press or arrest warrants."
"Party pooper," pouted Fred. She glared at him.
"I will," offered Bishop, drawing their attention. "Let's see, Pallie, truth or dare?"
"Truth," he opted.
"Is it true that you have a fear of ladybirds?"
"Yes," he admitted and they sniggered at him.
"Seriously? I don't even want to know why."
"I don't know why," he shrugged, "They just freak me out. Now, Malloy, truth or dare?"
"Dare," he chose.
His mouth twitching, Pallie leaned over and whispered something into his ear, the Chaser's eyes widening in horror. "Tonight?"
"Yep, it has to be done by tonight or face the consequences," Pallie confirmed.
"What does he have to do tonight?" George asked.
"You'll see," Pallie smirked, seeing Malloy shift uncomfortably.
"Wood, truth or dare?" Asked the blonde Chaser.
"Truth."
"Is it true that you've had sex with more than fifty women?" He asked.
Oliver's eyes darted down to Hermione, seeing her arched eyebrow.
Praying his answer didn't upset or hurt her, he cleared his throat and said, "Aye, a think so, a stopped counting years ago," he nodded. The team whistled in both surprise and appreciation and Hermione's mouth dropped open.
"Seriously?" She spluttered. He nodded sheepishly, eyeing her cautiously or more specifically, where her wand was. "I knew you'd gotten around but bloody hell, Wood!"
"It doesn't matter, Sparrow. A promise, yer the only one a care aboot an' yer the only one tha' matters," he muttered into her ear, his arm tightening his hold around her stomach. She grumbled but leaned into him. "Wilks, truth or dare?" He asked.
"Dare," he chose.
"A dare ye tae kiss Coach Burton."
Laughter broke free as he stared at Oliver in horror, before muttering, "Fine. Hermione, truth or dare?"
Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, either way, she was screwed. The only thing she took comfort in was that it wasn't one of the twins who'd asked her.
"Truth," she decided. She couldn't be arsed having to stand and move about, not when she was quite comfortable being curled up on her husband's lap.
"Is it true that you dated Ron Weasley?" Wilks asked. The twins burst into laughter, slapping their thighs.
"Good one!" They wheezed hysterically.
"No," she scowled unhappily, taking a hearty swig from her glass. She'd opted for elf wine whilst the other had chosen the muggle spirits.
"Is it true that you were a virgin when you married Wood?" Malloy piped up.
"It's not your turn and you've asked me that question five times already and my answer is still the same. Yes. Why are you so obsessed with my sexual status?"
"I find it hard to believe, that's all," he shrugged.
"Why? I don't throw myself at people, and I don't dress or behave provocatively."
"Exactly, that makes me wonder if you really were who you appeared to be. It's always the quiet ones."
"What are you suggesting?" She demanded, hopping from Oliver's lap and standing to her feet, her eyes narrowing.
The room was deadly quiet. No one dared speak. Only the twins had seen Hermione's true temper and they knew that if Malloy didn't take the hint and keep his mouth shut, he'd find himself waking in St. Mungo's. Of course, they were also furious for what he was insinuating, and Hermione's anger mixed with the Weasley Twins' was definitely not a good thing. And to add to that, Oliver was furious and stunned at his teammate's behaviour. Yes, he was an arsehole, but he'd always respected Hermione.
He arched a challenging eyebrow.
"You're doing an obstacle course tomorrow!"
"What for?" He frowned.
"For not only disrespecting me, but for doing it in my own home," she said coldly before storming from the room, everyone startling when a door slammed.
"What the hell was tha'?" Demanded Oliver, standing from the armchair. "Yer not only doin' the obstacle tamorrow, but yer also doin' five hundred laps af the pitch, on broom an' on foot, an' yer the Beater's target fer the entire day. Yer not allowed tae move, ye have tae let them aim fer ye withoot trying tae dodge them. Yer lucky she dinnae hex ye an' tha' a havnae kicked yer arse yet," Oliver's voice was remarkably calm, belying his furious expression.
With one last glance, he left the room in search of Hermione, hearing the twins following after him. Stepping into their bedroom, they'd been expecting to see Hermione upset and crying, instead, they found her laughing.
"Sparrow, am sorry aboot him. He's had one tae many drinks an' he dinnae..."
"Mean it?" She interrupted. "I know he didn't."
"What?" He and the twins chorused in confusion.
"I know he didn't mean it," she repeated.
"How?" Frowned Fred.
"Advanced hearing," she shrugged lightly.
"Wait, that's what Pallie dared him to do?" George questioned.
"Yes, he dared him to wind me up."
"Tha' was dangerous," Oliver commented and the twins agreed. "Are ye really gonna make him do an obstacle course?"
"No, but I am going to drag it out a bit and some fun before I reveal the truth," she grinned. "Shall we head back to the game?" She suggested.
Returning to the living area with blank expressions, they retook their seats, all eyes looking to Hermione.
"I believe it's my turn," she began, her eyes moving to Fred, the older twin being worried by her not-so-innocent grin. She was just as diabolical as he and George, if not, more so. "Fred, truth or dare?"
"Dare," he decided. The way he saw it, he was screwed either way so he may as well have some fun.
"I dare you to owl Professor McGonagall and tell her about a certain sexual fantasy of yours that involves her as the main feature."
Fred grimaced as George laughed and leaned over, sharing a high-five with Hermione as the team sniggered.
"That's brilliant," George praised proudly.
"Ye have sexual fantasies aboot McGonagall?" Oliver laughed.
"No, I don't, but Hermione wants me to convince McGonagall that I do," Fred shivered.
Once Hermione summoned parchment and a pen, Fred set to work on his 'masterpiece', reading his words aloud for the others as he wrote them to parchment, unable to keep his clear discomfort with the dare from his expression.
"Done," he informed them, sealing the parchment in an envelope and addressing it to McGonagall before attaching it to Ali after Hermione had called for her, watching the little owl take flight. "That was wrong on so many levels," he grimaced, slumping back into the couch cushions.
George looked at his twin and snorted. "You're proud and you know it."
"Okay, maybe a little," he admitted. "George, truth or dare?"
"Dare," replied his twin.
"I dare you to tell mum that it was you that broke her favourite vase."
He froze, his expression morphing into one of horrified terror as Fred and Hermione high-fived and sniggered.
"Before I go and visit the person to cause my untimely death, Malloy, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
George smirked, sending a wink to Hermione. "Is it true that you use our Beautification Potion and Kissing Concoction?" He asked, sniggers sounding around him.
"No," he scoffed.
"I don't believe you. You see, the person who orders them does it anonymously and through owl post, however, they give us a vault number, a vault number requires invoice to be filed, and that invoice holds the name of the vault owner," said George, seeing Malloy's cheeks tint pink.
Sniggering, George stood and crossed to the fireplace, flooing to the Burrow and quite possibly, to his death.
"You lied. You have to do a forfeit," said Hermione.
"What?" He looked terrified.
"At the next victory interview, you have to wear a fairy princess costume, wings and all." Laughter erupted with Malloy seeming to have frozen in place. "Well, Malloy seems to have frozen, so I'll take his turn. Wilks, truth or dare?"
"Truth," he chose.
"Is it true that you slept with five separate women in one night?" She arched an eyebrow.
"No, it was three," he shook his head. "Kings, truth or dare?"
"Dare," he decided.
"I dare you to kiss Thompson."
Kings shrugged before leaning over and giving Thompson a dramatic and sloppy kiss to the cheek and they laughed when Wilks frowned. "Should've specified, mate," he replied.
At that point, the floo roared to life and George stepped out, approaching the couch as he winced and rubbed at his arse.
"What happened?" Hermione asked amusedly.
"She got her wooden spoon and chased me outside. I would've gotten away if I hadn't tripped over a bloody garden gnome," he grumbled. They laughed at him. "I'm on gnome duty for the next four Sundays. So, what did I miss?"
"It's my turn," Kings answered. "Hermione, truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Is it true that you have a phoenix tattoo?"
Hermione arched an eyebrow. How did he know about that? "Yes, I do," she replied, her eyes darting to Thompson when he avoided her gaze and took a large sip from his tumbler. He'd once seen part of it when she'd stretched and her shirt lifted. "Malloy, truth or dare?" She asked sweetly.
"Dare... Wait, no, truth," he quickly amended.
"Can't change your mind; I have to accept your first answer. I dare you to allow the twins to cook for you and you have to eat every last bit of it."
The twins grinned and high-fived Hermione whilst Oliver laughed.
"Alright, who's gonna plan Malloy's funeral?"