FIC - Consequentially Yours (OW/HG, R)
Title: Consequentially Yours
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Oliver Wood / Hermione Granger
Rating: R
Words: ~2,800
Beta: HogwartsDuchess
20
A Series of Epilogues
3 - A Nervous Business
Adrianne Margaret was of course highly irritated with her brother for having taken himself and his wife away for a personal holiday just as his first nephew was to be born, but any plans she had for staying mad were circumvented by her obvious pleasure in the palpable improvement in their relationship. Of course, some of her pique might also have been dispersed by Oliver’s boyish excitement over little Julian Watson Walker; Adrianne and Jamie having followed the old custom of giving the child the Mother’s clan for a second name - and as the Wood family was a sept, or protectorate, of the much larger clan Watson, little Julian had quite the moniker to live up to.
Jamie was over the moon, of course, and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh with Adrianne as he and Oliver proudly made plans for Julian’s broom riding lessons, his club affiliations, the attributes of the witch he would eventually bring home, and his eventual residence in Gryffindor Tower - in that order.
Oliver’s days at the Ministry were slowing down, though he’d had to step in when Percy took strangely ill shortly after the trial, seeming very confused, until they had been forced to bring him to St. Mungo’s for a few days. The Healers there thought it was too much work and too much stress finally taking their toll on an exhausted man, so Oliver was spending long days keeping the newly awakened Wizarding world running, but from a safe, unidentified distance.
He and Hermione both tried resolutely to accept the whole incident at face value.
It had been nearly two months since little Julian’s birth, and Hermione had offered to take him off his frazzled mother’s hands for a few hours, while she took a much needed afternoon with her husband - and from the sounds of things, a certain hay loft. The details that had unwillingly come to mind when Adrianne had let that slip left Hermione blushing, and very, very glad Oliver wasn’t in the same room at the time; she wasn’t sure which she was more afraid of, that he might get ideas, or that he might hunt up Jamie to beat him within an inch of his life. Somehow, accepting that his sister had engaged in the necessary activities to produce a child, versus thinking about her person in proximity of a hay loft, might prove to be a bit too much strain on his brotherly tolerance.
Hermione didn’t have a great deal of practical experience with babies, but she was rather smug that she’d been doing just fine, thank you very much, with what she’d gleaned from the towering stack of books she’d picked up as soon as she’d gotten back and seen Julian. Adrianne and Michael had both laughed, Adrianne trying to be diplomatic in saying that she thought something like this might be more of a hands-on learning process, while Michael had just outright busted a gut, but Hermione had persevered. To Oliver’s credit, he’d smiled, and would question her each night on things she’d learned, though he was so tired he often fell asleep before she got to finish.
It had taken some work, but Julian was now soundly asleep and perfectly content cradled in one arm; and the fact that she could manage this and still read with her free hand pleased her to no end. She was so engrossed she didn’t even hear Oliver until he was in the room with her.
“He treating you right?” he asked quietly, so as not to wake the baby.
Carefully, Hermione juggled her book one-handed, until she had managed to slip the bookmark in place before setting it down on the side table. Oliver had reached to help, but she’d glared and fumbled until she did it herself. Instead, Oliver moved to sit on the hearth on the other side of the table. He sighed as he lowered himself down, obviously tired, and let his head roll back on his shoulders.
“Did the Obliviators manage the problem at the underground in Leads?” she asked, knowing it had been in the Prophet this morning.
Oliver grunted, without opening his eyes. “Bloody wizards and their enchanted Muggle objects. D’yeh know, some daft old bint brought a self-propelling trunk with her? The thing had legs, for Merlin’s sake!”
Hermione tried to imagine the pandemonium that would cause on an otherwise prosaic weekday morning, and had to suppress a giggle for her husband’s sake.
Julian fidgeted for a moment, tiny arms and legs outstretched as far as he could as he searched for a new position before settling down once more, little face pressed even more firmly to Hermione’s breast. She chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll be able to help you in that department, little one. We’ll have to wait for mom.”
Oliver just watched the scene and his expression was so tender, Hermione quickly began fussing with Julian’s blanket so she wouldn’t have to meet it. Oliver just watched her for a moment, before breaking the silence.
“Mouse,” he started hesitantly.
This could be dangerous. “Mmmm?” she murmured, still focused a bit apprehensively on the baby.
“I, uhm, I won’t always be working for the Ministry; Percy’s starting to ease back into the job, an’ we’ve been talking…”
“Would this have something to do with the reappearance of that old leather journal of yours?” Hermione asked, trying not to smile at her husband’s obvious nervousness, and at her relief in the new direction of the conversation. She was pretty sure he blushed at the mention of his play book.
“Well, really, you’ve been spending a lot of time talking to Percy lately, an’ he says you agree that the Wizarding community is ready for something a little more cheerful - and I know it’s a lot of travelling, but I’ll be home as often as I can, you’ll see! An’-”
“Home from what, Oliver?” Hermione couldn’t resist dragging out his misery just a little bit longer; she wasn’t used to seeing the big man so uncomfortable.
“Coaching Puddlemere United,” he mumbled, looking down at his clasped hands.
Hermione stayed perfectly quiet, waiting. When the silence had stretched from one heart beat, to two, and then five, Oliver looked up, obviously ready to placate her anger. Instead, her lips were twitching as she tried to suppress a large grin.
“You knew!” he accused, one hand reached out threateningly to her ribs, where he had found just the other night that she was unbearably ticklish.
“Baby,” Hermione warned, smugly, jiggling her occupied arm ever so slightly for emphasis.
The devilish look he shot her promised later consequences, and for a moment Hermione almost lost track of the conversation, as part of her began anticipating what he might have in mind.
“Percy told you before me, then did he?” Oliver asked, a touch petulantly.
“Actually,” Hermione bit her lip, sheepishly, “I sort of suggested that he’d better get the Leagues up, because if he didn’t I’d help you with your campaigning - and I’m a much bigger nuisance.”
Oliver threw his head back and laughed. Julian, of course, promptly protested the loud noise, and Oliver shot Hermione an apologetic wince.
They had the twins over that night after Jamie stopped by to gather up Julian, to celebrate the League’s re-instatement and Oliver’s new position in it. George had brought a set of experimental Exploding Snap and he and Oliver were lounging about on the polished floor of the living room playing a hand. Fred watched on, making notes and offering occasional bits of wit as more often than not it was Oliver who fell victim to the new design’s vagrancies. Hermione just watched from her position of safety in her arm chair, and rolled her eyes.
“So that’s what you’n Percy have had your heads together about. You’ve been so secretive, I thought we might have to dust off the Extendable Ears,” George grinned at her, and Hermione just reached over and swatted him.
“All set to be a Quidditch wife, Hermione, or have you decided on something to keep you busy while Oliver’s away?” Fred laughed.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” she started, slowly. “I wanted to do something that would help people relax again.”
“Well, you did a good job with that, Mouse. I cannae think of anything that will be better for everyone than getting something fun going again,” Oliver grinned crookedly and reached over give her hair a gentle tug.
“Good,” Hermione nodded sharply, once. “Because that wasn’t all I was talking to Percy about; I’m taking a position at the Ministry.”
Oliver looked over from his position sprawled out on the floor, with an indulgent smile. “Doin’ something to work wi’ your House Elves, are yeh?”
Hermione shook her head. “No, actually. I’m going to be your boss.”
Oliver missed the next card, not even noticing when it exploded in his hand. “Wha’?” he strangled.
“Well, only technically. I’m going to be the new Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.”
The twins’ jaws dropped. “Hermione, you don’t even like Quidditch!” Fred protested.
“After nine years of it, I really don’t mind it. Frankly, I think I’m destined to be surrounded by it, regardless, what between Harry and Ron, Ginny and the two of you, and now Oliver.” She smiled a little ruefully, before getting serious again. “I think my ability to organize is exactly what is needed. Do you have any idea the state of these clubhouses? I don’t know why these boys seem to think they can live off of nothing but beer - and the lifestyles they lead! - but I’m going to make sure that they start living properly, and I can’t even get into the other changes that need addressing…”
The boys in the room seemed frozen in shock as they listened to her itemise her plans to revamp their sport.
“…we have a lot of lost ground to catch up on if we’re going to field a decent team in the World Cup, after all.”
Oliver seemed to find his voice at last, and chuckled soothingly at this optimistic statement. “Love, the teams have been out of the air for almost three years, there’s no way you’re going to be able to get them all in proper shape in only one season, much as we’d all love to see that…”
Hermione fixed her husband with a steely glare “Quidditch is just numbers, when you get right down to it, Oliver Wood, and if there is one thing I excel at, it’s numbers. It’s up to you captains to get your teams motivated and up to standard, and believe me, you will be hearing about it if you don’t. England could use the celebration that would come with winning the Cup.”
She looked slyly over at her gapping husband, quite enjoying his look of complete bewilderment, and told him, “And I think I’m going to officially re-name it the Wonky Faint.”
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Authoress's Note:
One more to go *sniff* I can't believe how hard this is to actually leave behind. Good thing I have plans well in hand for a new multi-chapter fic :-) I hope to see you all check it out when it eventually gets posted, probably in a couple of weeks.
I'll leave the long author's note for the very end - but as always, thank you for each and every review *hugs*
Love,
Ny(ruserra)