Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Silence	By : thenextjourney Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 2049 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JKR owns the Harry Potter Series in its entirety, and I don't write for money.

Chapter List
- 1-Silence
- 2-Fate
- 3-Poison
- 4-Almost
- 5-Keeper
- 6-Illusion
- 2
- 3
- 4
Silence

"Drop your wand. Now."

Oliver had been turning to stand, but the feminine voice behind him stopped his movements. Quick to react, he turned, his wand held out defiantly as his stomach dropped. If he had to fight, he would. Quickly, his brain ran through the spells he had learned at Hogwarts, at the battle and in class.

To his surprise, his eyes met amber.

All at once, he felt an overwhelming relief and dread. Oliver was glad that he could see those brilliant eyes open once more. He had mended her, fixed her, and she had survived the night to stand before him wrapped in a black blanket from the couch. One hand supported her against the wall; the leg with the splint was barely touching the floor.

He was less enthused by the fact that Hermione was holding a large butcher knife in her other hand. Her eyes darted around the room as if she were searching for a way out. She looked like a trapped animal as she pointed the knife towards his chest.

"I said drop your wand!"

"Granger-"

"Why can your bloody dog get out and I can't?" she interrupted, looking over her shoulder to the kitchen door where an invisible dog door led to the backyard. Through the window, Oliver could see Godric peeing on a tree.

"Granger-"

He was cut off again as she put weight on her broken leg and staggered, hitting the wall. He took a step forward to help as she caught her balance, but was stopped by the knife tip against his chest.

"What…What the hell did you do to me?" she asked through clenched teeth, eyes closed. Her breath was coming hard, and she was very pale. Dried blood still spotted her skin and hair.

"Nothing," Oliver said, taking a step back from the knife. With a flick of his wand, the weapon clattered to the floor. "Would you listen to me?"

Hermione's arm dropped to help support her leaning body against the wall; her eyes remained closed.

"Why can't I remember?" she muttered. "A week? Did I lose a week?"

"Gra-Hermione. Listen to me," Oliver tried once more, taking a step closer. Suddenly, her eyes shot open and before he knew what was happening, he felt a sharp pain spread from cheekbone to jaw.

Hermione was holding a small knife that she had had clenched in her fist. Blood trickled down Oliver's face from the gash she had made.

"Bloody fuck!" he yelled, holding one hand to the cut. Hermione made a dash towards the front door, but only made it a couple of steps before crying out in pain and falling. Godric came bounding in at the sound of the yells, but stopped at the living room doorway. He let out a few whimpers of confusion.

Oliver groaned as he brought his wand up to heal the gash. After the flesh had knit together, he walked over and kneeled beside Hermione, who started to scream.

"Hermione, stop," he said, reaching out and turning her face-up. She screamed again, and he winced.

"Let go of me!" Hermione screamed, trying to roll on her side and grab his wand.

Frantically, Oliver covered her mouth with his hand. Her eyes widened as she finally got a good look at him.

"Look at me. There we go. Do you recognize me?" The look in her eyes gave him the answer he needed. "You have to trust me. Don't scream. Listen to me. I didn't do anything to harm you, but you have to calm down."

He pulled his hand away from her mouth.

"Oliver Wood," Hermione breathed out, her chest heaving with difficult breaths. She looked close to passing out. "I know you, but that's no reason to trust you."

"You'll have to," he said. "I'll tell you what I know, but first you need food. You lost a lot of blood." Oliver held out his hand to her, but she recoiled from it.

"Let me help you up."

"Don't touch me."

"Come on, don't be stubborn," he said, reaching for her wrist. She recoiled further, her eyes flashing.

"I said don't touch me, Wood," she snapped.

Oliver held back the flash of annoyance he felt. He took a breath and rubbed his forehead, taking a moment to remind himself that she was a victim of trauma. He needed her trust.

When he held out his hand again, his wand rested in his palm. Hermione stared at him like he'd just offered poison.

"Take it," he said. "Get yourself comfortable. Maybe you know how to help your leg. Better than me, anyways."

"Where's my wand?" Hermione asked after a moment.

Oliver inclined his head toward the corner where Godric had deposited the remains of her wand. When Hermione saw, she looked like she was about to get sick, but instead cast an accusatory glance at him.

"Oi, I didn't do it. I'll tell you when you eat. Come on. Take it."

Hermione dropped the small knife before she reached out and grasped the wand. Her skin barely skimmed his, but he felt how cold she was. Oliver reached under the coffee table and grabbed the Puddlemere blanket, placing it by her side. He didn't dare get any closer.

"Just don't try to leave. You have to trust me that you're in more danger out there than you are in here," he said, standing and walking to the kitchen.

Once a wall separated them, Oliver leaned his elbows on the table and blew air out. He rubbed his eyes and scrunched up his face.

I have no idea what I'm doing. Throw me in a Quidditch game or a battle, but something like this…

He shook his head and went to the refrigerator. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone for groceries; the fridge was embarrassingly empty. A couple of old take-out boxes cluttered one shelf, and the one below it had sour milk. Luckily, he found a few oranges in the back and a box of crackers in the pantry.

Carrying the fruit and crackers, Oliver reentered the living room to find Hermione wrapped in the two blankets and sitting on the leather couch. He stopped to watch as she performed a spell that kept her injured leg suspended above the coffee table. Once it was supported, she rewrapped the bandage and splint, doing a much better job than Oliver had the night before. It was tricky magic, and she did it without flaw.

When she was finished, Oliver stepped toward her. She jumped and pointed the wand at him, but he raised his hands, showing her the food.

"I'm sorry this is all I have," he said, setting the fruit and crackers down on the coffee table before her.

Hermione lowered the wand, but kept a wary eye on him as she inspected it.

"I didn't poison it. Keeper's honor."

"I don't know if I can trust you. I won't eat until you tell me what happened," she finally said. She settled back into the couch, but didn't look comfortable.

"No. I don't want you passing out in the middle."

"But I won't eat until I know it's not poisoned."

"Why would I poison you?"

"Why am I covered in blood?"

"Eat and I'll tell you."

"I won't eat until you tell me."

Oliver sighed, shooing Godric away as he made a mad dash for the crackers.

"Fine. Stubborn witch, you are. But I don't know the whole story," he conceded after a moment, settling down in a chair by the dark fireplace.

"Tell me everything you know," Hermione responded. She looked pleased with herself.

Oliver stared past her to the darkening sky outside, collecting his thoughts. He told her everything that had happened, from the moment Godric had woken him up to finding himself at knife-point. Hermione listened and stared solemnly at him the whole time, her face betraying nothing. When he was finished, the room fell quiet.

Godric rolled over on the floor and let out a big sigh as Hermione reached for the box of crackers. She grabbed a handful and ate slowly, picking at the pieces and keeping her eyes down. Finally, she looked up.

"I can't remember anything, and not just about last night. The last week is completely blank. The only thing I remember is arriving at the Ministry on Monday, and even that's blurred," she said.

"You did have a lot of injuries to your head," Oliver offered, but Hermione only shook her head.

"No. It's not like that," she said, grabbing an orange and unpeeling it with the wand. The skin fell away, and she plucked a wedge. "This time frame is so specific…I remember some things, and then it just goes black, like a curtain was pulled."

"So you think someone tampered with your memory?"

Hermione nodded, but she looked disconcerted.

"Why would they do that if they thought I was going to die?" she mumbled, popping the orange into her mouth.

Oliver watched her as she fell into silence once more. She was staring determinedly at a spot on the wall, her face once again betraying nothing. He was unnerved with how removed she was. It was like she was trying to solve one of those muggle crossword puzzles instead of who tried to kill her.

Maybe it was good that she didn't feel the pain, but Oliver wondered how healthy it was to keep it all bottled up.

She had almost died, after all.

"Do you think it was those revolutionaries? The ones that go after the Ministry officials?" Oliver asked, bringing her back to the present.

"It certainly looks like that, doesn't it?" Hermione said, placing another wedge into her mouth. "But the memory tampering is suspicious. It's out of place."

Oliver threaded his hands behind his head and leaned back, stretching his muscles. He wasn't fit to be a detective, but he supposed Hermione needed someone to bounce ideas off. When he opened his eyes again, she was staring at him. He gave her a half-hearted smile, noting the way the curls at her temple were matted to her forehead. She looked away.

"Maybe it's not so odd. You're a prominent figure in the wizarding world, and they couldn't risk being outed if you remembered anything."

"But that's the thing," she said. Her eyes drifted to Godric, who was sneaking up on the crackers again. She pulled out a handful and held them out to the dog, who wagged his tail and lapped them up. "No one else lived. Why would I be the only one?"

Oliver opened his mouth, then closed it quickly. She was the only one who had survived. If it was the same group of people, had they messed up or was it more malicious than that?

"I don't know," he admitted after a moment. "It doesn't make much sense, does it? Unless they were trying to send some sort of message. They obviously didn't expect my dog having to take a piss at three in the morning."

Hermione looked down at Godric, her eyes softening a bit.

"What did you say his name was?"

"Godric."

"Like Godric Gryffindor?"

"The very same," Oliver said, smiling at her. She looked away again and finished off the rest of the orange. "His fur reminded me of Gryffindor colors. He's a great pup."

Hermione nodded, pulling her good leg up to her chest and resting her chin on it. Even something as basic as eating had exhausted her.

"What good was it for them to leave me to suffer and die? Even if they erased my memory on the off chance I was found, it was still a stupid move," she mumbled, her eyes closing again. "A message, you said. But what?"

"Maybe nothing," Oliver said. His stomach tightened when he remembered what she looked like the night before. He doubted that image would ever leave his head. "Maybe they just enjoy pain. Maybe they were sure you would die. Trust me, it was close."

"What if you scared them away?" Hermione continued, ignoring him. "But that doesn't make sense. What difference would it make if they killed a wizard and his dog? Is it that important to only kill an official? They couldn't have been afraid of you and Godric."

Oliver made a face, somewhat offended, as Godric curled up under Hermione's injured leg. She took no heed of him, completely in her own mind.

"I didn't see or hear anyone," Oliver said, but part of him hoped that he had scared them away.

"But you said it was dark," Hermione countered. "You couldn't have seen anything. I was probably screaming while I was attacked, but they couldn't risk someone coming before I was dead. There must've been a silencing charm. But then here we are again: why am I not dead?"

Oliver unfolded his arms and ran a hand through his hair. She was right; it made no sense, but he doubted they would get answers sitting and obsessing about it.

"I don't know. There's no way of knowing," he said, nudging the edge of the coffee table closer to her with his foot so she could reach the cup of water he'd left. She grabbed it and drank it in one gulp, her slender neck flexing as she swallowed. It was Oliver's turn to look away this time.

"If I could remember-"

"No," Oliver cut her off. "You're exhausted, Granger. You still look half-dead. I need to take you to St. Mungos and then we can see the Aurors. It'll get straightened out."

"No!" Her response was quick enough that Oliver jerked his head up to stare at her. He saw a flash of something in her eyes that made him feel distinctly uncomfortable and like he was too far away at the same time.

"No," she repeated. Her chest was rising more quickly under the blankets. "No, that's a terrible idea. I won't go to St. Mungos."

"What? Don't be ridiculous. You need medical attention, not my basic knowledge of healing."

"I can do it," she said quickly. "I can fix myself. I'll be fine, but I can't go to St. Mungos."

"And why not?" Oliver asked, trying to remain patient.

"Look, Wood. These…these people who are killing Ministry officials have access to everything.Do you remember where some of the workers were killed? Some of the people I knew?" she asked.

Oliver shook his head, watching her closely. The sun was setting, and her eyes were as bright as the final flecks of amber rays in the sky, her hair framed by the light.

"Some were killed in their offices insidethe Ministry. Some were killed in the Auror office. Whoever it is, whoever these people are, they have access. It's not safe going anywhere. If they wanted me dead in the first place and failed, I'd just be placing myself in danger."

"So you're saying that you can't go to the Aurors or St. Mungos? What do you do then, just go home and hide away?" Oliver asked incredulously.

"No, of course not. They'll be watching. If you scared them away for whatever reason, they know I might be alive. I just can't confirm that for them," she said, her eyes far away in her thoughts. "They need to think I'm dead."

Oliver groaned and placed his head in his hands. Somehow, this had gotten completely out of his control.

"And how do you propose you do that?"

"Let me think a moment," she snapped. "My blood is still there between the flats, and the Ministry will find out I'm missing soon enough."

"This is madness," Oliver said, shaking his head. "Just go to Potter and Weasley, for Merlin's sake."

"No, don't be daft. If those people thought I was hiding out somewhere, of course they'd check my closest friends first. It's too obvious, especially with them being Aurors. Besides, they have little babies crawling around. I can't put them in danger," Hermione responded.

"But it's ok putting me in danger," Oliver said wryly, speaking without thinking. She glared at him.

"You found me. You saved my life."

"I did, but I certainly didn't know it was going to be this complicated."

"Well, then, I'm sorry. By all means, find a time turner and go back and undo what you did. When you see my death announced in the paper, think about how uncomplicated and wonderful your life is right now."

Oliver stood up, staring down at her with a furrowed brow.

"That is not what I said, Granger."

"What, did you expect an award for saving me?" she asked, her eyes darkening.

"Of course not-"

"Then stop acting like you're the one who was almost killed!" she yelled. Oliver's mouth nearly dropped as he saw the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks, her bottom lip trembling.

"Gra-Hermione, look, I'm sorry-"

"I just want to shower. Just let me shower," she interrupted, cutting him off.

"Yeah, right. That'd be good. Down the hall and to the left," he said, pointing it out. He felt downright shaky by her outburst, and was mentally kicking himself for how he'd responded. "Here, let me help you."

"I can manage," she spat, pushing away his outstretched hand. She grabbed his wand and, keeping her leg above the ground, hobbled off down the hall.

"Towels are under the sink," Oliver called after her. His response was the door being slammed and the resolute click of the lock.

He put his head in his hands before tapping himself on the forehead.

"Stupid, stupid," he muttered to himself. "You're such a twat."

Godric lifted his head, his owner's words waking him from a peaceful slumber.

"No, not you, boy. Go back to bed. Get some rest. I have a feeling things are going to be turned upside down for a bit."

Godric laid his head back down as nighttime entered the living room and the Hogwarts candles lit, leaving Oliver alone to his thoughts.

A/N: Hello, readers!

I'd love your feedback! Hope everyone is enjoying Silence as much as I'm enjoying writing it.
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Silence