Meeting at a Quidditch Pitch (8/?)
Title: Meeting at a Quidditch Pitch
Rating: T
Author: tres_blue
Genre: Gen./Humor
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters in the story, I just ask their mom/gaurdian, J.K Rowling, if they can come out and play for awhile.
Summary: A Quidditch game turns into an on going lesson for Hermione.
Beta: Rosie
“I could kill Adrian Pucey right now!” Hermione muttered as she sat in the empty box at the Quidditch stadium with nothing to read but the pamphlet they’d shoved in her hand when she’d arrived.
She hadn’t even thought to bring a book after Oliver’s warning on what his mum was like, and she couldn’t go and get something from home and risk coming back with her nose in a book and running into the woman. Hermione had taken care this morning to dress in Puddlemere colors and had almost skipped a meal to arrive early, as Adrian had said all the die-hard fans did.
“That’s why I told you to go before we left, Brenton!”
Hermione spun around in her seat to look at the now open door of the box and swallowed when she saw a woman clothed in Puddlemere colors from head to toe talking to a boy who looked like Oliver only quite a bit smaller. The woman was around Hermione’s height; she had Oliver’s sandy blond hair and his smile but her eyes were a deep blue that Hermione had only seen in a box of crayons when she was in primary school.
“Sorry, Mum, but Adder wasn’t going in his pen and then da came out and started….” The young boy, Brenton, apologized before he looked around the box and met the now nervous witch’s eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, throwing the small banner he held onto the table beside him and tilting his head at her.
“Brenton, you know who that is. Your brother wrote to us about her,” his mother answered for Hermione, then turned to her; Hermione stood up and smoothed down her shirt before offering her hand. “Oh, nonsense, if my Oliver’s invited you to a game, it’s a hug I’m after, not a handshake.” And with that, Hermione found herself engulfed in a hug that could have rivaled Molly Weasley’s.
After she was set to rights she looked at the witch in front of her and mentally shook her head. She hadn’t expected her to look this…inviting after all that Oliver had told her the night before. She’d anticipated walking into the box to be greeted by a woman with Puddlemere written on her face, who would look her up and down then ignore her in favor of watching the game, not waiting in an empty box only to meet a woman who reminded her of her own mother.
“Sorry, dear. Oliver hasn’t invited me to meet one of his lady friends in so long I’ve forgotten how to greet properly. I’m Cathlien, Oliver’s mother, and this is Brenton, his youngest brother.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Wood, Brenton. I’m Hermione Granger, as you already know. I’m no-”
“Now, none of that ‘Mrs. Wood’; you’ll call me Cathlien or you’ll call me nothing.”
“You can still call me Brenton. I don’t get called Mr. Wood until I get to go to Hogwarts, huh, Mum?” Oliver’s brother asked while looking around the room.
“Right you are, Brent. Now, Hermione, let’s have a seat before this one claims the front row all to himself,” Cathlien said with a smile, nodding to Brenton, who was in his seat already and looking around the stadium like a child waiting for Santa to come.
A shocked Hermione let herself be led to a seat and was still recovering when a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Oliver; he glanced nervously from her to his mum then back again, biting his lip as if unsure of what to say.
“No need to make me get a stiff neck from looking at you, Oli. Get down here and give your ol’ mum a hug.”
“Can’t, Mum, I’m working,” he said with a smirk before continuing, “I just wanted to check how you and Hermione are getting on.”
“Like a house on fire, love. Don’t worry, I won’t scare your lady love away,” the woman said with a giggle, causing Hermione to blush and Oliver to find a sudden reason to return to his post quickly.
“Um…Mrs. Wood, I mean Cathlien, Oliver and I aren’t…”
“Oh, me and my big mouth. I’m sorry, Hermione, I should have known you weren’t ready to come out with the relationship yet, what with those crazy fangirls and whatnot. Don’t fear, this is the last I’ll speak of it today; wouldn’t want anyone overhearing now, would we?” his mother said, throwing her a wink, before turning to Brent. “What do you think Puddlemere’s going to do tonight, Brenton?” she asked, her voice losing the motherly tone and taking on a quality that reminded Hermione of the way Ginny sounded when she was at a game.
“Well, they have Oli instead of that poof Kinner,” he answered with a shrug before squinting across the pitch. “Slanders is Keeper for the Wanderers but I don’t think he’s going to be in for much longer; Delco told me he heard that the dolt went after Cadence a few days back and old Decker found out this morning. I bet he gets benched by quarter after.”
Hermione smiled when Cathlien looked over at her but cracked open one of the programs that had appeared on the seats and looked through the Wanderers section, hoping against hope that there might be some tiny piece of evidence as to what the two were talking about. She was soon rewarded when she read a bio on the coach, Eric Decker. He had a daughter, Cadence, who was his pride and joy, and it was rumored that she would be making her debut as Seeker for the team later in the season. She shook her head at the picture of Slanders, who looked rather slow even for a picture, and then turned her attention back to Brenton, who was already off on another story.
“Enturs is sitting out this game, Mum, did you know that?”
“I heard he got mouthy to coach but I didn’t think it was that bad. Oli better keep to the rings if they want to win this one, don’t you think, Hermione?” the mother of the man in question asked as she turned towards the brown-haired girl, who sat like a deer in headlights.
“Oh…um, yes. He’d better watch out for er….Stanton, the replacement Chaser. I heard he’s trained with the Bulgarian team for a few summers,” she stuttered out, thankful for her ability to retain information.
She’d spotted Stanton’s name as she was looking through the program, and remembered it from Viktor writing to tell her about an English Chaser joining the team to learn a few new skills before being drafted to a professional Quidditch team back in the U.K. She watched as Oliver’s mum digested her information and blew out a held breath when the woman seemed impressed and turned to ask Brenton why he hadn’t heard that.
“I tell you, it’s so refreshing to have a woman around that knows more about Quidditch than could fit in a thimble. Where you a supporter in school as well?” Cathlien asked as she watched the teams warm up, muttering to Brent that the right side looked a little weak and coach should keep an eye out for it.
“Yes, I was,” she answered honestly, leaving out the fact that she’d only really ever cheered for a few people on the team and not the team as a whole.
“And what house were you in?”
“I was in Gryffindor, almost Ravenclaw,” Hermione answered with a shrug before turning her attention to the pitch.
Oliver was hovering a few feet in front of the hoops and she could see his head turn towards the box a few times before he shook it and returned his concentration to the warm-up. Stanton - or rather, the man she assumed to be Stanton - was leaning back on his broom above the pitch, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else.
“I’m just about starving, Hermione, what about you?” Cathlien asked as she stood up from her seat and stretched, looking over to the younger woman for her answer.
“I’m a bit hungry too, I suppose.”
“I’m starving, too, Mum. You could have let me get breakfast before I did chores,” Brent spoke up as he jumped out of his seat and raced to the door of the box, turning and giving an impatient sigh when he saw the other two occupants were still by their seats.
“If you hadn’t ignored me when I tried to wake you up this morning you would have had time for breakfast, so you have no one to blame but yourself. Come on, Hermione, they’ve just started serving something called ‘corndogs’ that I want to try. Oli said they’re amazing.”
It seemed that everything Oli - which was the name Hermione fully intended to use for the remainder of their friendship - said was taken as absolute truth. She let herself be led away and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when the small part of the Wood family she was with were introduced to corndogs, which they held by the very end of the stick while hanging them upside down; Brent gave his mother a look that said they shouldn’t count on Oliver - no, sorry, Oli - for anymore food tips.
“You’re supposed to get a condiment to dip them in; they’re like a hotdog, really, only…well, not,” Hermione explained as she ordered her own and asked for a side of mustard and ketchup, hiding a smile when the other two almost instantly did the same.
They made their way back to the box and ate their food, Brenton being sent to get another round for everyone after they were done with the first batch, before finally resuming their seats. The Quidditch talk recommenced almost instantly and Hermione began to understand why Oli had taken her to dinner to try to prepare her. His mum was ruthless.
“I don’t reckon coach was thinking too hard when he signed on Cranden; did you see that boy during warm-up?” The question was directed towards Hermione and she panicked when she realized she only knew a few of the players on the roster, and some only by name, not face.
“Um…I’m not sure I know….” She cut herself off when she saw Brenton pointing out to the pitch at a man she didn’t recognize and smiled when he mouthed ‘Cranden’ to her. “I’ve never seen him play, really; he was benched the last game I was at,” she finished with a shrug.
Cathlien looked over her shoulder to see what had caught the girl’s attention but only saw Brenton sitting watching the warm-ups and shrugged before she too returned her attention to the pitch. She was so wrapped up in watching the plays that would be executed in the game, she missed the relieved smile that Hermione sent her youngest son and the wink he returned.
**************************
It was halfway through the game and Hermione couldn’t help but admit she was having a most enjoyable time. She wasn’t caught too off guard at the questions Cathlien was throwing at her because she was paying attention to the game and had, as Oliver had suggested, read Quidditch Through the Ages back to front the previous night to brush up on the fouls and moves that were possible in the course of a game. She’d even surprised herself by pointing out a foul that both Cathlien and Brenton had missed.
“Go, Oli!” Hermione screamed along with her box-mates when the Keeper in question blocked a particularly good throw from a Wanderers Chaser.
“Did you see Oli, Mione; did you see how he just stopped that thing like it was nothing?” There was more than a bit of pride in Brenton’s voice as he asked the same question he’d asked every time his older brother had blocked a goal.
“I saw, Brent. He’s brilliant, that’s for sure,” she answered equally enthusiastically.
“Why is Stanton sitting on his backside? Doesn’t he know he has a game to win?” Cathlien asked with a huff immediately before jumping up to the rail. “He sees it! Finally getting your thumb out of your arse, Stanton? Go!”
If she hadn’t been sat with her for the duration of the match, Hermione wouldn’t have believed such words could flow so smoothly from the woman she was now standing next to by the rail, but she’d heard enough by now to make even the most hardened Auror blush. As she thought about the woman beside her, the stadium erupted in cheers - something that didn’t startle her as much as it had before - and she joined in the celebratory dance that Cathlien started.
“Now for champagne!”
She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Brenton’s eyes light up as he practically ran towards the table, watching eagerly for the bottle and glasses to appear.
“A sip, boy, and not a drop more!” Cathlien said even as she poured him a full glass.
She gave Hermione a glass and, after pouring herself one, raised it in a toast.
“To Puddlemere.”
“And Oli!” Brent added before downing half the glass, conveniently not meeting his mother’s gaze when she raised an eyebrow at him.
While she knew she should feel like an outsider in the box, Hermione couldn’t help but share in the mischievous grin that Brent threw her when his mum busied herself with straightening all of their clothing, giving Hermione a pinch on the cheek when she was done straightening the collar of her shirt.
“Come on, then. Let’s go face the madhouse,” was all that was said before Hermione found herself whisked out of the box and down the winding steps that, as she soon found out, led to the entrance of the locker room, which was swamped with more people than she’d ever seen congregated in such a small space.
“He shouldn’t be too long. He’s usually the first one out.”
Hermione opened her mouth to answer but was pushed forward by an overzealous fan that had found it necessary to push his way to the front of the….well, mob, really. She turned to share her displeasure with Cathlien only to find the woman doing exactly what the boy had just done to her, using her elbows as she maneuvered through the crowd.
“Come on, Mione, Mum can get through a line quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Brent called before he practically glued himself to his mother’s back in order to get closer to the door.
Hermione followed suit and almost choked when the door swung open and the coach came out, his gaze resting on her almost as soon as his eyes adjusted to the flashbulbs going off in his face. She turned red and quickly glanced to Oliver’s mother to see if she’d noticed that the man was staring at her and had, to Hermione’s mortification, smiled and winked when she’d made the mistake of meeting his gaze.
“How much longer do you think it’s going to take?” she asked after tearing her eyes away from the huge man who stood in front of the locker room door, almost blocking it completely.
Without even looking at the clock on the wall above the door, Cathlien answered, “Three minutes tops.”
She stood silently and fought the urge to cover her ears when, two and a half minutes later, Oliver exited the locker room and was greeted with a roar loud enough to wake the dead. He smiled and posed for pictures as he scanned the crowd but when his gaze landed on the trio he waved off other pictures and moved towards them - only to be stopped by coach, who leaned down to whisper something in his ear while waving his hand towards Hermione. She wanted to melt through the floorboards when whatever he said caused Oliver’s face to turn pink.
“Let’s get outta here,” the Keeper said when he finally made it to them, his arm going protectively around Hermione as he led the group towards the Apparation point. “Hold onto me,” he ordered, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his waist before Apparating without warning.
They arrived in the yard of a rather large farmhouse and she bit her lip nervously when she saw a banner hanging from the door, reading ‘Congratulations, Oli!’.
“Oliver, where are we?” she asked, but the question was answered straight away as Brenton ran to a stable to their right yelling, “Da, da, guess what?” Her plans of him being ‘Oli’ had flown out the window at the thought of being at his parents’.
“A celebratory dinner, of course,” he answered with a smile before beginning to walk towards the house, dragging her along by the hand he refused to release.
“Dinner? What are you talking about?” she demanded, trying with little success to tug her hand free.
“Whenever there’s a win in the family, Mum makes a big deal out of it and has a dinner to celebrate,” he explained when they were close enough to smell various dishes cooking.
Hermione smiled; it was certainly a bonus to being a witch, being able to prepare a delicious meal so easily. After a final unsuccessful tug she let him lead her into the house and to the table that was arranged in the center of the kitchen; it looked very much like The Burrow.
“Tallen should be home soon and then we’ll start,” Cathlien said from her position at the sink as she looked out the window and into the backyard.
“Who’s Tallen?” Hermione asked, turning to Oliver.
“My older brother.”
“So your entire family will be here for dinner?” she asked slowly.
He seemed to pick up on her tone and gave her a sideways look before answering, “Yes, it’s a Wood tradition.”
Hermione sat in silence for what seemed like ages before she finally stood up and went around the table to Oliver’s mother, who had turned from the sink to watch the two of them with a look of pride on her face.
“Thank you for a lovely time at the match, Cathlien, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”
“Whatever do you mean, dear? We have plenty and I was looking forward to getting to know you better; everyone was,” the older witch exclaimed, looking a bit hurt, which caused Hermione to feel lower than a piece of dirt on someone’s shoe.
“I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that I would just be attending the game and made other plans for afterwards,” she responded quietly, sending a nasty look over her shoulder to Oliver for putting her in such a position. The least he could have done was warned her that there was a possibility of ‘family time’ after the game.
“It’s quite alright, dear. I can’t for the life of me understand why Oli would forget to mention a standing after-match dinner with his family…” She let herself trail off and raised an eyebrow at her son over Hermione’s shoulder. “Well, there’s always next time,” she added happily, pulling the younger witch in for a hug.
Hermione smiled when the woman released her then moved to the door, only to stop short when she almost ran into a chest. Expecting it to be Oliver, she sighed before looking up to give him a ‘move now’ expression, and found a man she’d never seen before looking down at her.
“Well I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a lovely look from you, love, when I don’t even know your name,” he said with an easy smile.
“Tallen, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my brother, Tallen.” Oliver made the introductions as he rounded the table and put a hand behind her elbow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see Hermione off,” he said quickly before pushing back Tallen, who looked deep in thought as he stared at Hermione.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, throwing Oliver an odd look as he tried to usher her away from his brother.
“Hold on,” Tallen said before they’d gone more than ten steps and she heard Oliver curse before he tensed and turned his head.
“Not now, Tallen,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What are you boys talking about?” Cathlien asked as she came to stand beside Tallen just outside the door.
“What is going on, Oliver?” Hermione asked when he gave a loud sigh and hunched his shoulders.
“Tallen talks to coach; they’re mates from school,” he said quietly, almost as if he didn’t want his mother to overhear.
After thinking for a minute, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and asked, “So what?”
“Think about it…”
“Why do you want to run your girlfriend off so fast?” Tallen asked before Oliver could finish what he’d been trying to explain.
“How did you find out, Tal?” Cathlien asked happily as she moved forward to stand next to Hermione.
“Anton told me Oli was late for curfew last night and when he did show up… Hermione, was it?” After a weak nod from Hermione was issued he continued, “Hermione Flooed in before him.”
“Oliver Andrew Wood!” Cathlien screeched before Hermione could process what had just been revealed. “How could you keep such a serious relationship from me? Young man, you have some explaining to do!”
With her face flaming, Hermione turned towards Oliver to see what he’d say, only to find him in the same state. After opening and closing his mouth a few times he finally spoke.
“Mum, that was our first date; it wasn’t…”
“So I’ve raised a playboy?” his mother asked, sounding even more offended at this thought than that of having a relationship hidden from her.
“Good lord, no! Mum, listen, I’ve been teach-”
“It was near eleven when they got home, that’s what Anton said.”
“Tallen, shut up!” Oliver yelled after his brother gave his unwanted statement.
“Eleven? You’re never out that late; you don’t even come here after nine.”
“Alright, I was on a date with Hermione but we only went to my flat because it was already late and I wanted to make sure she…”
“She even sat in his box last week, when he told you he gave his tickets to Erhen,” Tallen added with a smirk, winking at Oliver, who looked ready to lunge at his brother.
“What? Oliver, you know I wanted to see the Falcons after they beat us last year.”
“I thought you were joking when you said you overlooked your family to give me those tickets, Oliver!” Hermione said with a gasp as she turned her attention from Cathlien to her middle son, who grew pink under her gaze and looked down at his feet rather than meet her eyes.
“Oh, I don’t blame you, dear,” his mother said soothingly, running a reassuring hand down Hermione’s arm.
“I just wanted you to have a decent lesson,” he mumbled, turning his head away from Tallen - a futile endeavor, as his older brother was leaning close to catch every word.
“What do you mean, ‘lesson’? You didn’t even give the contest winners box seats and they bloody laid money down to win some time with you.”
“Oh, Tallen Avery, shut up! You’re making it worse for yourself, sounding like a five year old,” Cathlien snapped before turning to Oliver. “Although…he is right, love.”
“I’d rather not discuss this now, Mum,” he answered tightly, his hand once again going to Hermione’s elbow, only now moving down to entwine his fingers in hers.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed by his mother and she quickly closed her mouth and, with a kiss to Hermione’s and Oliver’s cheeks and a stern frown for Tallen, she turned and walked back into the house, calling over her shoulder that dinner would be ready soon.
“Come on, Hermione, we need to talk,” the Keeper said, already leading her away from his brother and towards a large tree that looked as if it had been there since before the earth was made.
He sat down at the base and motioned for her to join him with a pat on the ground. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking straight out at the open field that lay before them, until Hermione nudged him with her knee, a tacit request that he explain what had just happened. He sighed heavily but began to speak nonetheless.
“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on, right?” he asked; he turned his head to look at her, a smile playing on his lips, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continuing, not waiting for her nod, “Where should I start?”
“I find the beginning’s always a nice place to start,” she answered quietly.
“I suppose you’re right. When I saw you at the Cannons game, I - I don’t know, I wanted to get to know you,” he started, only to have her interrupt him.
“You give tickets to all the girls you want to meet?”
“No, gods no. I’ve never done that before. It’s just that you were learning so well that I thought you’d want to watch a game - a proper game, not a Cannons game - in person to see how everything flowed together off of parchment. Then, during the game, well, I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did and then Pucey came back and you were talking to him and I just…” He snapped his mouth shut and looked away from her for a few seconds before turning back and continuing, “You were different than I thought you’d be and I wanted to know more about you.”
“That’s why you gave me the tickets for today’s game,” she said, thinking back and remembering he’d only offered after Adrian had come back.
“Yeah, I’d already decided that I would give them to you again but I didn’t know when. Then I remembered my mum would be coming this week and thought it was as good a time as any to introduce you, you know. A lot of girls are intimidated by her.”
“I can imagine,” she uttered before she could think better of it, and then slapped her hand over her mouth as she stared at Oliver with wide eyes, afraid of how he would take what she’d just said.
Instead of looking affronted he laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head, giving her a smile when he’d laughed himself out.
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse said of the woman. I wanted you to meet her and her to meet you so if anything ever happened you wouldn’t feel so…nervous about meeting my mum, but I think I just made you more nervous at dinner. Oh, and then coach catching us. I should have remembered Tallen goes out with him. I didn’t intend for my mother to ever find out about that; I was only joking when I said that bit about her not finding out until after the match.”
Hermione didn’t know what to think as Oliver explained his actions so she stayed silent and mulled over what he’d just told her. She’d understood that his mother wasn’t ever to know about the flat incident and that he’d wanted to get to know her but other than that she was at a loss.
“What do you mean ‘if anything ever happened’?” she asked when he’d stopped talking.
“I just thought, you know, that maybe one day I’d want you to meet her,” he muttered with a shrug as he turned his face away.
While she’d always been quick on the uptake, she found herself sitting in silence for a few seconds before his meaning sank in and she felt her cheeks flame. He’d said he’d wanted to get to know her better earlier but she’d simply thought he’d meant as a friend - but with the last bit of information he’d supplied she began to wonder if he’d meant more than that. She was just ready to open her mouth to ask him if her line of thought was correct when Brenton jumped in front of them and sat down.
“What is it, Brent?” Oliver asked when the boy simply stared at them with an expectant look.
“Tallen sent me down here to see if you two were snogging,” the boy explained with a smile before glancing between the two of them. “Were you?”
Oliver sighed and, after looking at Hermione, smiled at his brother, reaching an arm out to ruffle his hair.
“Don’t let Tallen boss you around, you tell him to do his own dirty work from now on,” Oliver ordered his brother before he stood up and helped Hermione to her feet as well. “Come on, then, Hermione. Let’s go have dinner.”
She looked up and found herself nodding before she could think not to. Oliver grinned and began to lead her to the house and she let him, a smile forming on her lips as Oliver sent Brenton ahead to let the rest of the Wood clan know that they were returning.
“Alright, I’m sure if we ignore Tallen and convince my mum I didn’t overlook her for whatever reason she’s come up with, we’ll be fine. Just follow my lead,” he advised when they’d made it to the back door.
She nodded and followed him in when he smiled and gave her a quick hug. They walked in to find four sets of eyes on them: Cathlien, Brenton, Tallen and a man she assumed to be Oliver’s father. She smiled at them nervously and took a seat when Oliver pulled a chair out for her, shifting slightly as the silence grew until, finally, his father spoke.
“I’m Creed, Ms. Granger, Oliver’s father,” he said, inclining his head to her when he spoke.
“Oh, please, call me Hermione,” she said with a smile, breathing a small sigh of relief, mainly because Oliver took her hand in his until his father smiled back.
“Well, Hermione, I’m glad to have you at my table. Pass the potatoes, please.”
And with that, dinner began. The family brought each other up to date on what was happening in their lives and Hermione was surprised to say the least when she was asked about her life and how her job was going. After an hour, the meal was done and the dishes were quietly cleaning themselves then flying to their proper places and Hermione found herself enjoying the end of her day as she talked over potions with Creed, who had apparently always loved the subject. It wasn’t until Oliver made their excuses that she realized it was past eleven o’clock and time for them to go.
“Thank you, Cathlien, for a lovely day,” she said for a final time before waving goodbye to the rest of Oliver’s family and letting the middle son lead her to a point some way from the house before Disapparating.
When they arrived at their destination, Hermione looked around to see that they were at her flat and there was an irritated Adrian Pucey sitting on her couch.
“I’ll just be off, then,” Oliver said quickly before taking a bit of Floo powder and calling out, “Oliver Wood’s flat”; and he was gone.
“Hello, Adrian,” she said happily and then, knowing he would more than likely be there until the wee hours of the morning, went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea.
“Don’t you ‘hello’ me, Hermione. I had a horrible afternoon and came here thinking to rely on my friend to listen to me only to find her flat empty and her…pet ready to attack anything moving! Did you know…?”
She smiled as he began to rant and rave about his day and couldn’t help but find it amusing that she’d thought she’d have to do the same thing when she came home from the match today. Well, it’s true, she mused as Adrian began to pace in front of the fireplace; what a difference a day makes.
Rating: T
Author: tres_blue
Genre: Gen./Humor
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters in the story, I just ask their mom/gaurdian, J.K Rowling, if they can come out and play for awhile.
Summary: A Quidditch game turns into an on going lesson for Hermione.
Beta: Rosie
“I could kill Adrian Pucey right now!” Hermione muttered as she sat in the empty box at the Quidditch stadium with nothing to read but the pamphlet they’d shoved in her hand when she’d arrived.
She hadn’t even thought to bring a book after Oliver’s warning on what his mum was like, and she couldn’t go and get something from home and risk coming back with her nose in a book and running into the woman. Hermione had taken care this morning to dress in Puddlemere colors and had almost skipped a meal to arrive early, as Adrian had said all the die-hard fans did.
“That’s why I told you to go before we left, Brenton!”
Hermione spun around in her seat to look at the now open door of the box and swallowed when she saw a woman clothed in Puddlemere colors from head to toe talking to a boy who looked like Oliver only quite a bit smaller. The woman was around Hermione’s height; she had Oliver’s sandy blond hair and his smile but her eyes were a deep blue that Hermione had only seen in a box of crayons when she was in primary school.
“Sorry, Mum, but Adder wasn’t going in his pen and then da came out and started….” The young boy, Brenton, apologized before he looked around the box and met the now nervous witch’s eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, throwing the small banner he held onto the table beside him and tilting his head at her.
“Brenton, you know who that is. Your brother wrote to us about her,” his mother answered for Hermione, then turned to her; Hermione stood up and smoothed down her shirt before offering her hand. “Oh, nonsense, if my Oliver’s invited you to a game, it’s a hug I’m after, not a handshake.” And with that, Hermione found herself engulfed in a hug that could have rivaled Molly Weasley’s.
After she was set to rights she looked at the witch in front of her and mentally shook her head. She hadn’t expected her to look this…inviting after all that Oliver had told her the night before. She’d anticipated walking into the box to be greeted by a woman with Puddlemere written on her face, who would look her up and down then ignore her in favor of watching the game, not waiting in an empty box only to meet a woman who reminded her of her own mother.
“Sorry, dear. Oliver hasn’t invited me to meet one of his lady friends in so long I’ve forgotten how to greet properly. I’m Cathlien, Oliver’s mother, and this is Brenton, his youngest brother.”
“It’s good to meet you, Mrs. Wood, Brenton. I’m Hermione Granger, as you already know. I’m no-”
“Now, none of that ‘Mrs. Wood’; you’ll call me Cathlien or you’ll call me nothing.”
“You can still call me Brenton. I don’t get called Mr. Wood until I get to go to Hogwarts, huh, Mum?” Oliver’s brother asked while looking around the room.
“Right you are, Brent. Now, Hermione, let’s have a seat before this one claims the front row all to himself,” Cathlien said with a smile, nodding to Brenton, who was in his seat already and looking around the stadium like a child waiting for Santa to come.
A shocked Hermione let herself be led to a seat and was still recovering when a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Oliver; he glanced nervously from her to his mum then back again, biting his lip as if unsure of what to say.
“No need to make me get a stiff neck from looking at you, Oli. Get down here and give your ol’ mum a hug.”
“Can’t, Mum, I’m working,” he said with a smirk before continuing, “I just wanted to check how you and Hermione are getting on.”
“Like a house on fire, love. Don’t worry, I won’t scare your lady love away,” the woman said with a giggle, causing Hermione to blush and Oliver to find a sudden reason to return to his post quickly.
“Um…Mrs. Wood, I mean Cathlien, Oliver and I aren’t…”
“Oh, me and my big mouth. I’m sorry, Hermione, I should have known you weren’t ready to come out with the relationship yet, what with those crazy fangirls and whatnot. Don’t fear, this is the last I’ll speak of it today; wouldn’t want anyone overhearing now, would we?” his mother said, throwing her a wink, before turning to Brent. “What do you think Puddlemere’s going to do tonight, Brenton?” she asked, her voice losing the motherly tone and taking on a quality that reminded Hermione of the way Ginny sounded when she was at a game.
“Well, they have Oli instead of that poof Kinner,” he answered with a shrug before squinting across the pitch. “Slanders is Keeper for the Wanderers but I don’t think he’s going to be in for much longer; Delco told me he heard that the dolt went after Cadence a few days back and old Decker found out this morning. I bet he gets benched by quarter after.”
Hermione smiled when Cathlien looked over at her but cracked open one of the programs that had appeared on the seats and looked through the Wanderers section, hoping against hope that there might be some tiny piece of evidence as to what the two were talking about. She was soon rewarded when she read a bio on the coach, Eric Decker. He had a daughter, Cadence, who was his pride and joy, and it was rumored that she would be making her debut as Seeker for the team later in the season. She shook her head at the picture of Slanders, who looked rather slow even for a picture, and then turned her attention back to Brenton, who was already off on another story.
“Enturs is sitting out this game, Mum, did you know that?”
“I heard he got mouthy to coach but I didn’t think it was that bad. Oli better keep to the rings if they want to win this one, don’t you think, Hermione?” the mother of the man in question asked as she turned towards the brown-haired girl, who sat like a deer in headlights.
“Oh…um, yes. He’d better watch out for er….Stanton, the replacement Chaser. I heard he’s trained with the Bulgarian team for a few summers,” she stuttered out, thankful for her ability to retain information.
She’d spotted Stanton’s name as she was looking through the program, and remembered it from Viktor writing to tell her about an English Chaser joining the team to learn a few new skills before being drafted to a professional Quidditch team back in the U.K. She watched as Oliver’s mum digested her information and blew out a held breath when the woman seemed impressed and turned to ask Brenton why he hadn’t heard that.
“I tell you, it’s so refreshing to have a woman around that knows more about Quidditch than could fit in a thimble. Where you a supporter in school as well?” Cathlien asked as she watched the teams warm up, muttering to Brent that the right side looked a little weak and coach should keep an eye out for it.
“Yes, I was,” she answered honestly, leaving out the fact that she’d only really ever cheered for a few people on the team and not the team as a whole.
“And what house were you in?”
“I was in Gryffindor, almost Ravenclaw,” Hermione answered with a shrug before turning her attention to the pitch.
Oliver was hovering a few feet in front of the hoops and she could see his head turn towards the box a few times before he shook it and returned his concentration to the warm-up. Stanton - or rather, the man she assumed to be Stanton - was leaning back on his broom above the pitch, looking as though he would rather be anywhere else.
“I’m just about starving, Hermione, what about you?” Cathlien asked as she stood up from her seat and stretched, looking over to the younger woman for her answer.
“I’m a bit hungry too, I suppose.”
“I’m starving, too, Mum. You could have let me get breakfast before I did chores,” Brent spoke up as he jumped out of his seat and raced to the door of the box, turning and giving an impatient sigh when he saw the other two occupants were still by their seats.
“If you hadn’t ignored me when I tried to wake you up this morning you would have had time for breakfast, so you have no one to blame but yourself. Come on, Hermione, they’ve just started serving something called ‘corndogs’ that I want to try. Oli said they’re amazing.”
It seemed that everything Oli - which was the name Hermione fully intended to use for the remainder of their friendship - said was taken as absolute truth. She let herself be led away and had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when the small part of the Wood family she was with were introduced to corndogs, which they held by the very end of the stick while hanging them upside down; Brent gave his mother a look that said they shouldn’t count on Oliver - no, sorry, Oli - for anymore food tips.
“You’re supposed to get a condiment to dip them in; they’re like a hotdog, really, only…well, not,” Hermione explained as she ordered her own and asked for a side of mustard and ketchup, hiding a smile when the other two almost instantly did the same.
They made their way back to the box and ate their food, Brenton being sent to get another round for everyone after they were done with the first batch, before finally resuming their seats. The Quidditch talk recommenced almost instantly and Hermione began to understand why Oli had taken her to dinner to try to prepare her. His mum was ruthless.
“I don’t reckon coach was thinking too hard when he signed on Cranden; did you see that boy during warm-up?” The question was directed towards Hermione and she panicked when she realized she only knew a few of the players on the roster, and some only by name, not face.
“Um…I’m not sure I know….” She cut herself off when she saw Brenton pointing out to the pitch at a man she didn’t recognize and smiled when he mouthed ‘Cranden’ to her. “I’ve never seen him play, really; he was benched the last game I was at,” she finished with a shrug.
Cathlien looked over her shoulder to see what had caught the girl’s attention but only saw Brenton sitting watching the warm-ups and shrugged before she too returned her attention to the pitch. She was so wrapped up in watching the plays that would be executed in the game, she missed the relieved smile that Hermione sent her youngest son and the wink he returned.
**************************
It was halfway through the game and Hermione couldn’t help but admit she was having a most enjoyable time. She wasn’t caught too off guard at the questions Cathlien was throwing at her because she was paying attention to the game and had, as Oliver had suggested, read Quidditch Through the Ages back to front the previous night to brush up on the fouls and moves that were possible in the course of a game. She’d even surprised herself by pointing out a foul that both Cathlien and Brenton had missed.
“Go, Oli!” Hermione screamed along with her box-mates when the Keeper in question blocked a particularly good throw from a Wanderers Chaser.
“Did you see Oli, Mione; did you see how he just stopped that thing like it was nothing?” There was more than a bit of pride in Brenton’s voice as he asked the same question he’d asked every time his older brother had blocked a goal.
“I saw, Brent. He’s brilliant, that’s for sure,” she answered equally enthusiastically.
“Why is Stanton sitting on his backside? Doesn’t he know he has a game to win?” Cathlien asked with a huff immediately before jumping up to the rail. “He sees it! Finally getting your thumb out of your arse, Stanton? Go!”
If she hadn’t been sat with her for the duration of the match, Hermione wouldn’t have believed such words could flow so smoothly from the woman she was now standing next to by the rail, but she’d heard enough by now to make even the most hardened Auror blush. As she thought about the woman beside her, the stadium erupted in cheers - something that didn’t startle her as much as it had before - and she joined in the celebratory dance that Cathlien started.
“Now for champagne!”
She couldn’t help but smile when she saw Brenton’s eyes light up as he practically ran towards the table, watching eagerly for the bottle and glasses to appear.
“A sip, boy, and not a drop more!” Cathlien said even as she poured him a full glass.
She gave Hermione a glass and, after pouring herself one, raised it in a toast.
“To Puddlemere.”
“And Oli!” Brent added before downing half the glass, conveniently not meeting his mother’s gaze when she raised an eyebrow at him.
While she knew she should feel like an outsider in the box, Hermione couldn’t help but share in the mischievous grin that Brent threw her when his mum busied herself with straightening all of their clothing, giving Hermione a pinch on the cheek when she was done straightening the collar of her shirt.
“Come on, then. Let’s go face the madhouse,” was all that was said before Hermione found herself whisked out of the box and down the winding steps that, as she soon found out, led to the entrance of the locker room, which was swamped with more people than she’d ever seen congregated in such a small space.
“He shouldn’t be too long. He’s usually the first one out.”
Hermione opened her mouth to answer but was pushed forward by an overzealous fan that had found it necessary to push his way to the front of the….well, mob, really. She turned to share her displeasure with Cathlien only to find the woman doing exactly what the boy had just done to her, using her elbows as she maneuvered through the crowd.
“Come on, Mione, Mum can get through a line quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen,” Brent called before he practically glued himself to his mother’s back in order to get closer to the door.
Hermione followed suit and almost choked when the door swung open and the coach came out, his gaze resting on her almost as soon as his eyes adjusted to the flashbulbs going off in his face. She turned red and quickly glanced to Oliver’s mother to see if she’d noticed that the man was staring at her and had, to Hermione’s mortification, smiled and winked when she’d made the mistake of meeting his gaze.
“How much longer do you think it’s going to take?” she asked after tearing her eyes away from the huge man who stood in front of the locker room door, almost blocking it completely.
Without even looking at the clock on the wall above the door, Cathlien answered, “Three minutes tops.”
She stood silently and fought the urge to cover her ears when, two and a half minutes later, Oliver exited the locker room and was greeted with a roar loud enough to wake the dead. He smiled and posed for pictures as he scanned the crowd but when his gaze landed on the trio he waved off other pictures and moved towards them - only to be stopped by coach, who leaned down to whisper something in his ear while waving his hand towards Hermione. She wanted to melt through the floorboards when whatever he said caused Oliver’s face to turn pink.
“Let’s get outta here,” the Keeper said when he finally made it to them, his arm going protectively around Hermione as he led the group towards the Apparation point. “Hold onto me,” he ordered, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around his waist before Apparating without warning.
They arrived in the yard of a rather large farmhouse and she bit her lip nervously when she saw a banner hanging from the door, reading ‘Congratulations, Oli!’.
“Oliver, where are we?” she asked, but the question was answered straight away as Brenton ran to a stable to their right yelling, “Da, da, guess what?” Her plans of him being ‘Oli’ had flown out the window at the thought of being at his parents’.
“A celebratory dinner, of course,” he answered with a smile before beginning to walk towards the house, dragging her along by the hand he refused to release.
“Dinner? What are you talking about?” she demanded, trying with little success to tug her hand free.
“Whenever there’s a win in the family, Mum makes a big deal out of it and has a dinner to celebrate,” he explained when they were close enough to smell various dishes cooking.
Hermione smiled; it was certainly a bonus to being a witch, being able to prepare a delicious meal so easily. After a final unsuccessful tug she let him lead her into the house and to the table that was arranged in the center of the kitchen; it looked very much like The Burrow.
“Tallen should be home soon and then we’ll start,” Cathlien said from her position at the sink as she looked out the window and into the backyard.
“Who’s Tallen?” Hermione asked, turning to Oliver.
“My older brother.”
“So your entire family will be here for dinner?” she asked slowly.
He seemed to pick up on her tone and gave her a sideways look before answering, “Yes, it’s a Wood tradition.”
Hermione sat in silence for what seemed like ages before she finally stood up and went around the table to Oliver’s mother, who had turned from the sink to watch the two of them with a look of pride on her face.
“Thank you for a lovely time at the match, Cathlien, but I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stay for dinner.”
“Whatever do you mean, dear? We have plenty and I was looking forward to getting to know you better; everyone was,” the older witch exclaimed, looking a bit hurt, which caused Hermione to feel lower than a piece of dirt on someone’s shoe.
“I’m sorry, but I was under the impression that I would just be attending the game and made other plans for afterwards,” she responded quietly, sending a nasty look over her shoulder to Oliver for putting her in such a position. The least he could have done was warned her that there was a possibility of ‘family time’ after the game.
“It’s quite alright, dear. I can’t for the life of me understand why Oli would forget to mention a standing after-match dinner with his family…” She let herself trail off and raised an eyebrow at her son over Hermione’s shoulder. “Well, there’s always next time,” she added happily, pulling the younger witch in for a hug.
Hermione smiled when the woman released her then moved to the door, only to stop short when she almost ran into a chest. Expecting it to be Oliver, she sighed before looking up to give him a ‘move now’ expression, and found a man she’d never seen before looking down at her.
“Well I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a lovely look from you, love, when I don’t even know your name,” he said with an easy smile.
“Tallen, this is Hermione. Hermione, this is my brother, Tallen.” Oliver made the introductions as he rounded the table and put a hand behind her elbow. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see Hermione off,” he said quickly before pushing back Tallen, who looked deep in thought as he stared at Hermione.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, throwing Oliver an odd look as he tried to usher her away from his brother.
“Hold on,” Tallen said before they’d gone more than ten steps and she heard Oliver curse before he tensed and turned his head.
“Not now, Tallen,” he said through gritted teeth.
“What are you boys talking about?” Cathlien asked as she came to stand beside Tallen just outside the door.
“What is going on, Oliver?” Hermione asked when he gave a loud sigh and hunched his shoulders.
“Tallen talks to coach; they’re mates from school,” he said quietly, almost as if he didn’t want his mother to overhear.
After thinking for a minute, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and asked, “So what?”
“Think about it…”
“Why do you want to run your girlfriend off so fast?” Tallen asked before Oliver could finish what he’d been trying to explain.
“How did you find out, Tal?” Cathlien asked happily as she moved forward to stand next to Hermione.
“Anton told me Oli was late for curfew last night and when he did show up… Hermione, was it?” After a weak nod from Hermione was issued he continued, “Hermione Flooed in before him.”
“Oliver Andrew Wood!” Cathlien screeched before Hermione could process what had just been revealed. “How could you keep such a serious relationship from me? Young man, you have some explaining to do!”
With her face flaming, Hermione turned towards Oliver to see what he’d say, only to find him in the same state. After opening and closing his mouth a few times he finally spoke.
“Mum, that was our first date; it wasn’t…”
“So I’ve raised a playboy?” his mother asked, sounding even more offended at this thought than that of having a relationship hidden from her.
“Good lord, no! Mum, listen, I’ve been teach-”
“It was near eleven when they got home, that’s what Anton said.”
“Tallen, shut up!” Oliver yelled after his brother gave his unwanted statement.
“Eleven? You’re never out that late; you don’t even come here after nine.”
“Alright, I was on a date with Hermione but we only went to my flat because it was already late and I wanted to make sure she…”
“She even sat in his box last week, when he told you he gave his tickets to Erhen,” Tallen added with a smirk, winking at Oliver, who looked ready to lunge at his brother.
“What? Oliver, you know I wanted to see the Falcons after they beat us last year.”
“I thought you were joking when you said you overlooked your family to give me those tickets, Oliver!” Hermione said with a gasp as she turned her attention from Cathlien to her middle son, who grew pink under her gaze and looked down at his feet rather than meet her eyes.
“Oh, I don’t blame you, dear,” his mother said soothingly, running a reassuring hand down Hermione’s arm.
“I just wanted you to have a decent lesson,” he mumbled, turning his head away from Tallen - a futile endeavor, as his older brother was leaning close to catch every word.
“What do you mean, ‘lesson’? You didn’t even give the contest winners box seats and they bloody laid money down to win some time with you.”
“Oh, Tallen Avery, shut up! You’re making it worse for yourself, sounding like a five year old,” Cathlien snapped before turning to Oliver. “Although…he is right, love.”
“I’d rather not discuss this now, Mum,” he answered tightly, his hand once again going to Hermione’s elbow, only now moving down to entwine his fingers in hers.
The movement didn’t go unnoticed by his mother and she quickly closed her mouth and, with a kiss to Hermione’s and Oliver’s cheeks and a stern frown for Tallen, she turned and walked back into the house, calling over her shoulder that dinner would be ready soon.
“Come on, Hermione, we need to talk,” the Keeper said, already leading her away from his brother and towards a large tree that looked as if it had been there since before the earth was made.
He sat down at the base and motioned for her to join him with a pat on the ground. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both looking straight out at the open field that lay before them, until Hermione nudged him with her knee, a tacit request that he explain what had just happened. He sighed heavily but began to speak nonetheless.
“I guess you’re wondering what’s going on, right?” he asked; he turned his head to look at her, a smile playing on his lips, reaching out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face before continuing, not waiting for her nod, “Where should I start?”
“I find the beginning’s always a nice place to start,” she answered quietly.
“I suppose you’re right. When I saw you at the Cannons game, I - I don’t know, I wanted to get to know you,” he started, only to have her interrupt him.
“You give tickets to all the girls you want to meet?”
“No, gods no. I’ve never done that before. It’s just that you were learning so well that I thought you’d want to watch a game - a proper game, not a Cannons game - in person to see how everything flowed together off of parchment. Then, during the game, well, I didn’t think I’d have as much fun as I did and then Pucey came back and you were talking to him and I just…” He snapped his mouth shut and looked away from her for a few seconds before turning back and continuing, “You were different than I thought you’d be and I wanted to know more about you.”
“That’s why you gave me the tickets for today’s game,” she said, thinking back and remembering he’d only offered after Adrian had come back.
“Yeah, I’d already decided that I would give them to you again but I didn’t know when. Then I remembered my mum would be coming this week and thought it was as good a time as any to introduce you, you know. A lot of girls are intimidated by her.”
“I can imagine,” she uttered before she could think better of it, and then slapped her hand over her mouth as she stared at Oliver with wide eyes, afraid of how he would take what she’d just said.
Instead of looking affronted he laughed and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head, giving her a smile when he’d laughed himself out.
“Don’t worry, I’ve heard worse said of the woman. I wanted you to meet her and her to meet you so if anything ever happened you wouldn’t feel so…nervous about meeting my mum, but I think I just made you more nervous at dinner. Oh, and then coach catching us. I should have remembered Tallen goes out with him. I didn’t intend for my mother to ever find out about that; I was only joking when I said that bit about her not finding out until after the match.”
Hermione didn’t know what to think as Oliver explained his actions so she stayed silent and mulled over what he’d just told her. She’d understood that his mother wasn’t ever to know about the flat incident and that he’d wanted to get to know her but other than that she was at a loss.
“What do you mean ‘if anything ever happened’?” she asked when he’d stopped talking.
“I just thought, you know, that maybe one day I’d want you to meet her,” he muttered with a shrug as he turned his face away.
While she’d always been quick on the uptake, she found herself sitting in silence for a few seconds before his meaning sank in and she felt her cheeks flame. He’d said he’d wanted to get to know her better earlier but she’d simply thought he’d meant as a friend - but with the last bit of information he’d supplied she began to wonder if he’d meant more than that. She was just ready to open her mouth to ask him if her line of thought was correct when Brenton jumped in front of them and sat down.
“What is it, Brent?” Oliver asked when the boy simply stared at them with an expectant look.
“Tallen sent me down here to see if you two were snogging,” the boy explained with a smile before glancing between the two of them. “Were you?”
Oliver sighed and, after looking at Hermione, smiled at his brother, reaching an arm out to ruffle his hair.
“Don’t let Tallen boss you around, you tell him to do his own dirty work from now on,” Oliver ordered his brother before he stood up and helped Hermione to her feet as well. “Come on, then, Hermione. Let’s go have dinner.”
She looked up and found herself nodding before she could think not to. Oliver grinned and began to lead her to the house and she let him, a smile forming on her lips as Oliver sent Brenton ahead to let the rest of the Wood clan know that they were returning.
“Alright, I’m sure if we ignore Tallen and convince my mum I didn’t overlook her for whatever reason she’s come up with, we’ll be fine. Just follow my lead,” he advised when they’d made it to the back door.
She nodded and followed him in when he smiled and gave her a quick hug. They walked in to find four sets of eyes on them: Cathlien, Brenton, Tallen and a man she assumed to be Oliver’s father. She smiled at them nervously and took a seat when Oliver pulled a chair out for her, shifting slightly as the silence grew until, finally, his father spoke.
“I’m Creed, Ms. Granger, Oliver’s father,” he said, inclining his head to her when he spoke.
“Oh, please, call me Hermione,” she said with a smile, breathing a small sigh of relief, mainly because Oliver took her hand in his until his father smiled back.
“Well, Hermione, I’m glad to have you at my table. Pass the potatoes, please.”
And with that, dinner began. The family brought each other up to date on what was happening in their lives and Hermione was surprised to say the least when she was asked about her life and how her job was going. After an hour, the meal was done and the dishes were quietly cleaning themselves then flying to their proper places and Hermione found herself enjoying the end of her day as she talked over potions with Creed, who had apparently always loved the subject. It wasn’t until Oliver made their excuses that she realized it was past eleven o’clock and time for them to go.
“Thank you, Cathlien, for a lovely day,” she said for a final time before waving goodbye to the rest of Oliver’s family and letting the middle son lead her to a point some way from the house before Disapparating.
When they arrived at their destination, Hermione looked around to see that they were at her flat and there was an irritated Adrian Pucey sitting on her couch.
“I’ll just be off, then,” Oliver said quickly before taking a bit of Floo powder and calling out, “Oliver Wood’s flat”; and he was gone.
“Hello, Adrian,” she said happily and then, knowing he would more than likely be there until the wee hours of the morning, went to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea.
“Don’t you ‘hello’ me, Hermione. I had a horrible afternoon and came here thinking to rely on my friend to listen to me only to find her flat empty and her…pet ready to attack anything moving! Did you know…?”
She smiled as he began to rant and rave about his day and couldn’t help but find it amusing that she’d thought she’d have to do the same thing when she came home from the match today. Well, it’s true, she mused as Adrian began to pace in front of the fireplace; what a difference a day makes.