Hello, my freaky darlings! Another chapter means that my lazy self needs to start typing again, I have several chapters finished in first draft, but need to convert them over. It also means I need to rein in the druid Hermione plot bunny and pump out some more for this story. (Go ahead, laugh. I do.) Have a great weekend.
Chapter 9 Hermione Socializes
An awkward social gathering full of banal small talk was the last way Hermione wanted to spend her Sunday. Throngs of people came to gawk at the Golden Trio. Quite a few made rather lewd innuendos, a lesser number made offers. One or two women tried to claim they were the Chosen One's soulmate. "Sorry, my head is clear and I don't taste anything. It isn't me, but keep looking, they're here somewhere." He gestured to the crowd around them. "Anyone else having symptoms?" he asked louder. The women quickly fled.
"Funny how that keeps happening," chuckled Ron.
"Right?" The friends again split apart to encourage people to mingle.
Hermione found herself talking with an older couple. "We're here to support our children and grandchildren," the woman explained.
"Wish the ministry could find a counter ritual, but, alas, without the original it is an uphill battle," said her husband.
"Wait, they don't even have the original ritual?" asked Hermione, her outrage growing.
"Please don't spread that around. Our oldest grandson is a clerk in the new department. They don't want people panicking."
"You may rely on my discretion. Now spill."
He chuckled, "The coven can't, or won't, reveal where they found it or where it is now."
A horrified thought occurred to Hermione, "Gods protect us if those brainless twats invented or twisted a ritual."
"That thought has given me a few sleepless nights," the older woman admitted. "But Thomas speaks highly of his boss, Percy Weasley. He says he's determined to find a solution."
"Percy is a great guy. I have lots of faith in him, too."
"That's good to hear," the man said. "How many of these things do you have to attend?"
"An undetermined number, but less than the powers that be would like," Hermione shrugged. "We'll see. They don't pay me, so my job comes first."
"Good luck to you and with your search."
"Thank you, good luck to your family, too." Hermione waved as they moved away. A glance at the clock told her she could head home at any point. She collected Harry and Ron, "We have fulfilled our obligation. Remind me to think of something incredible or horrific for Kings to do to repay us."
"Done," Ron told her. Together the three of them exited the ballroom.
"One down, far too many to go," groaned Harry.
"But quidditch Tuesday!" cheered Ron. "Even if I can't cheer for the Cannons, I get to see them." The other two laughed at his enthusiasm.
Dressed in navy and gold with Oliver's last name and number on her back Hermione met Ron and Harry at the Puddlemere Stadium. Both wore Puddlemere colors much to Hermione's appreciation. "Ready for this?" asked Harry. "The papers are speculating about you two already."
"When aren't they speculating?" She laughed, "They occasionally still associate the three of us romantically. My favorites are the ones that report we're a secret triad."
Harry looked Ron up and down, "Sorry, mate, you're just not my type."
"You dated my sister, I don't want her sloppy seconds!" They both burst out in laughter.
"Please, you both know it would be so you could worship me," Hermione smirked.
The boys looked at each other than back to her, "Nah." They laughed as they finished climbing the stairs to their box.
Looking around, Ron whistled, "Nice, but why aren't we in the family boxes?"
"I've barely met some of them. And I've only been seeing Oliver a few months. We might know we're end game, but that's no one else's business" She stepped further in, "And I like the privacy to enjoy this with you. Over there everyone would be paying attention to us. And asking questions. This will ensure it takes longer to find us. And, finally, I haven't met Oliver's parents. I want to do that with him."
"That's fair," Harry said, wandering over the to the small buffet table. "Hungry?"
"No, not at the moment," she answered.
"I could eat," responded Ron joining him. Hermione settled into one of the plush seats. The boys each prepared a plate. Ron brought Hermione a small one with her favorite treats. "Here, so you don't have to get up later."
"Thank you, Ron. That's very thoughtful of you." She took the plate.
The two teams took the field. The Cannons crossed their fingers in their trademark gesture. Not even the stanchest supporters expected them to win. Puddlemere United took the field with more fanfare and the cheers of the home fans. Hermione found herself unable to look away from the hoops. She watched Oliver dodge and dive around those three circles expertly defending the goals.
Harry leaned over and pretended to wipe her chin, "You're drooling."
She swatted him, I am not. Pay attention, Williams is chasing the snitch." Seconds later the Puddlemere seeker dove after the small golden ball. He zig-zagged after it, refusing to allow the tiny thing to throw him off its trail. The stadium erupted when he grasped it. He came to a stop, proudly holding the snitch above his head. The trio cheered, clapping and yelling in excitement. They waited for the crush of the crowd to dwindle to exit the box. No need to be jostled back and forth, or mobbed if people realized who they were. Oliver needed to change and get through the crowds by the locker room before he could pay attention or spend time with them anyway. The muted sounds of jovial fans celebrating reached them through the closed door.
"Someone's having a good time," remarked Hermione.
"Quite," agreed Harry.
Ron shook his head, "Can you imagine the reaction if the Cannons won?"
"I would have fled immediately to the safety of my home," Hermione joked. "Mass riots on par with football Ultra fans. Complete chaos." She shuddered dramatically for comedic effect. The boys laughed at her antics.
"When do you want to start down?" asked Ron.
Hermione shrugged, "Post game can take me anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes. But I limit the press to three questions."
"Do you really?" asked Ron awed at her audacity.
"It's been about twenty minutes," announced Harry, looking at his watch. "Shall we?" They exited the box and started towards the ground floor. Halfway down they encountered Oliver on his way up.
"Well, hello, handsome," purred Hermione.
He swept her up in an exuberant hug, "Leannan! We won!"
"Was there any doubt?" she laughed. She pecked his cheek.
"No, not really," he admitted.
"Still, congratulations. You were wonderful. I know because I couldn't stop watching you."
"Ah'm flattered. Ah can't wait to return the favor."
"My position isn't an exciting: on the ground, only one goal to protect."
"Sure, but it's bigger," pointed out Harry.
They began walking down the stairs. "I'm just pointing out he might get bored if he only watches me. And miss most of the game." Ron rolled his eyes.
A week later Oliver stood outside Meadow Park with Ron, Harry, and Ginny. "It looks larger, and at the same time smaller, than the other stadiums Ah know."
"You're not wrong," Ron clapped him on the back. "C'mon, let's go find our seats."
Inside the press of people, the shouts, and jostling felt more normal. Three rows ahead of them Oliver spotted William and Moriah Granger. Both looked happy and excited. They chatted with another couple next to them. A few seats down a group of fans tuned a radio to the pregame program. "All I'm saying, Tom, is this appears to be Arsenal WFC's year. They have a strong offense lead by Kuhn, and her heir apparent, Owens. And an even stronger defense. Granger has a clean slate for the season. Not that we can accuse them of parking the bus."
"You know, Keith, people usually expect us to disagree, but about this, I don't think I can. Every game, every interview, every player says the same thing. Coach Gretchen Danvers demands teamwork. We play every second of every match. We don't want one or two stars, we need a team of all-stars."
"And this season, that is where they seem to be heading. Right now they are about to take the field against Leeds United. Who are having a solid season themselves. This could be anyone's game."
"See, now we disagree, Keith. This is Arsenal's game to lose," Tom said.
Oliver smiled widely when they announced Hermione's name. She ran out smiling and waving with both hands over her head. He knew the thrill of that moment well. She took her place in front of the goal. A fierce look came over her face. A shiver ran down his spine. "She looks ready for battle," he remarked to Harry.
"Yep, that's part of why they call her the lioness. That and she wore a Gryffindor shirt in her first interview."
The game began in earnest. He agreed with the radio announcers the teams seemed evenly matched, but the Gunners had stronger teamwork. Each player passed confident the others were in place to receive it. And Hermione kept her eye on the ball. Nothing seemed to distract her focus. The radio commentator mentioned her uncanny knack for knowing which player would take the shot and what direction the kick would go."
"And she's fearless, Tom. Nothing fazes her. She is not afraid to throw herself in front of that ball."
When the force of jumping and catching the ball threw her shoulder first into the metal goalpost Oliver cringed. Ron leaned over, "Watch, she heals the damage. She just leaves the bruises and scraps." Oliver relaxed when he saw her hold her shoulder for a moment. She waved off the coach and the game continued.
The atmosphere climbed to excited tension during the final quarter. Owens and Kuhn each scored two goals and Hermione had allowed zero. Oliver noted the frustration on the faces of the Leeds players. The offense grew more aggressive. Arsenal added three more points to its lead from penalty kicks. "They need to calm down," Ron remarked.
"Agreed," Oliver said, never taking his eyes off of the action. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Five minutes before the final whistle, the United striker kicked the ball straight at Hermione hitting her square in the face. She grasped the ball tightly, swaying. Harry, Ron, Oliver, and Ginny were not the only spectators on their feet. All around then angry yells and jeers filled the air.
On the field Westbrook, a referee, and the team medics ran to Hermione. She handed the ball to the referee. The medics began checking her over. She sighed, she knew she had a concussion. She was going to yank that bitch's hair out by the roots until she was permanently bald. Tony got her attention, "Follow my finger with just your eyes." She did her best not to move her head to follow it. "Okay, bright light coming your way." He shone a light in her eyes, first one, then the other. "Tell me your name?"
"Hermione Granger."
"Where are we?"
"Meadow Park in Borehamwood."
"What year is it?"
"2005."
"How are you feeling?"
"This second? Hacked off. And just a touch dizzy. We have five minutes left. Let's finish this and then you can fuss over me. That bitch does not win."
Tony looked at Westbrook. "The adrenaline will keep her going. The player got ejected and we get five penalty shots. The girls can drag that out. She looked at Hermione, "Unless you vomit."
"I feel okay in that aspect. If that changes I'll signal."
The referee nodded, "I'm keeping my eye on you, too."
Danvers took this opportunity to talk to their forwards, "The best payback is their utter humiliation. We're winning 7 to 0. Let's make it 12-0. Calm deep breaths, clear away the negative. Stretch it out a bit, and cream 'em." The three players put their hands in the middle of the huddle and raised them together yelling, "GUNNERS!"
The United goalie looked nervous facing down the focused determination of Arsenal. Adding to her discomfort, Granger just took a ball to the face and stayed in the game like it was nothing. What the hell? She planned on killing Sapphire in the locker room. One, two, three, four, the penalty kicks went whizzing past her. The fifth grazed her fingertips, still passing her. The stadium exploded into celebration.
Hermione jogged five steps, swayed again, and promptly vomited. The medics rushed over, one refusing to let her walk another step. They argued and he promptly scooped her up and put her on the stretcher. She visibly continued to grumble and said something to the team gopher that had her running inside. Oliver saw Moriah get a phone call. She said something to William that made him relax and chuckle.
Just as he was about to ask what they should do, his phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hello. Mr. Wood?"
"Speaking," he answered like Hermione taught him to.
"My name is Jamie, the team's gopher. Miss Granger wants me to tell you the team doctor is sending her to the A&E to get treated for the concussion. She would like you to meet her there. She says to bring the others, too. Please."
"Ye added the please, didn't ye?" Oliver said.
"Yes, but if she wasn't so annoyed she would have. She's so nice to everyone on the staff."
"Ah'm sure she is. If ye can let her know we will. Thank ye." He hung up and Harry and Ron looked at him curiously, "They are sending her to the A&E." He returned the questioning look.
"Local hospital emergency department," Harry supplied.
"She wants us to meet her there."
"Of course," responded Ginny. "We would have gone even if she didn't ask."
"Because she would come for us," Ron added.
When they arrived they were directed to a waiting room. "Miss Granger is getting scanned, as soon as she returns we will collect you," a nurse told them. They sat in the thinly cushioned vinyl chairs. The only sign of nerves on display was Oliver's left leg bouncing irregularly. People moved about, some waiting, some going to triage, others leaving. Oliver watched them as a distraction. He knew it was unlikely to be serious, but that didn't stop the anxiety. After an eternity a nurse collected them. They followed her to the curtains hiding Hermione from view. A doctor nodded in greeting as they came around them.
Oliver instantly moved to take her hand. She smiled and let him. "How are ye?"
"I'm fine, right?" she directed the later to the doctor.
"Amazingly, yes, mostly. You have a minor concussion. We gave you meds to deal with any possible nausea, and something for pain. I have a script for you to fill."
"And we will make her take them," promised Ginny.
"Someone should stay with you for at least twenty-fours to watch for increased pain, new headaches, more vomiting, and loss of consciousness."
"Ah will," offered Oliver.
"You don't have to," protested Hermione.
"Aye, Ah do. And Ah will. End of discussion." He put out his hand for the paperwork. "Thank ye."
Harry turned to Oliver, "You lot get her home and settled. I'll fill her prescriptions."
Hermione tried again, "Oliver, you don't have to..."
"Hermione would ye stay with me if Ah had the concussion?"
She startled and looked insulted, "Of course."
"There ye go. Now, will ye behave or should Ah carry ye?"
"Carry her," cheered Ginny.
"No, I can walk." She dropped her legs over the side of the
hospital bed.
"It seems you are in good hands, Miss Granger. Hydrate and get plenty of rest." The doctor moved on to his next patient.
Hermione glared at them, "You are not carrying me out of here."
"So independent," Oliver teased.
"Bite me," she snarked back.
"And feisty," he kissed her, "me favorite variety."
"Perhaps we should have your head examined while we're here," she muttered.
"They won't find anything. Too many bludgers to the head," he laughed. "C'mon let's get ye home, leannan."
"I do like that plan," Hermione said. "Thank you all for coming."
"You'd have done the same for us," Ginny told her.
"You have done the same for us," said Ron. He went ahead to hail cab. The other two escorted her to the doors, waiting just to the side.
"Hello, Lioness," called a male voice.
Recognizing the voice, Hermione turned, "Hello, yourself, Trent."
Once she addressed him, Trent Crimm stepped closer. "I wasn't waiting. I just happened by. I live over a few blocks."
She chuckled, "I actually know that. Gin, Oliver, Trent here is a sports writer for the Independent. Trent, Ginny Weasley and Oliver Wood."
"Nice to meet your rescuers," he nodded. "Have a nice evening."
"You, too," she twinkled at him waiting.
"Would you be willing to give me a quote about the incident? My editor would be annoyed if I didn't at least ask."
"Payback's a bitch. Nothing worse than a complete slaughter on your home turf. We'll be prepared. If they thought tonight was rough, just wait."
"If I were Sapphire Huff I would be worried," he told her. She shrugged. "I'm glad it wasn't serious."
"Precautions, minor concussion." Ron motioned for them to join him. "Good night, Trent." He waved and continued on his way.
"You were rather chummy and candid," remarked Ginny.
"Trent is one of the few good reporters. He won't twist my words or speculate. And he's unlikely to have been waiting. He's not a raw cub anymore. Since he behaves and uses discretion, I reward him with more than I do others. Also, he's seen my destroy the bad ones. He approaches with trepidation. If I had refused he would have backed off and written nothing."
"I see," Ginny helped her brother and former housemate get her friend into the cab and back home.