Who: Hermione Granger and Oliver Wood. When: June 1st 1997. Where: The Burrow. Rating: PG-13. Warnings: They're flirting and then the Death Eaters attack. There's fighting and – gasp! - violence. Summary: Hermione and Oliver meet at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception. Status: Closed. COMPLETE.
It was a beautiful ceremony.
In the storm of everything that had happened over recent months, it was actually a welcome distraction. Apparently the Weasleys and Delacours came together to put forth a wedding that was unmistakably reflective of both familial tastes. Hermione had no idea how that was possible, but it somehow worked. For her part, she had actually long since gotten over her dislike of Fleur. It helped that she was marrying Bill. It helped even further when she heard about the french witch's retort when nearly everyone thought she'd leave the marred eldest son of Molly and Arthur. So maybe she wasn't all bad.
But the occasion was good for several things. It allowed her some more time with her best mates. Harry seemed alright considering and Ron actually cleaned up rather nice when he, or was it his mum, put his mind to it. Hermione had even found she enjoyed getting ready for the festivities. She'd picked out a dress for the occassion while she was in Muggle London and had even taken the time to use Sleek EZ hair potion. That and an hour later, she had her incredibly thick and wavy hair tamed in ways she normally didn't care to employ because it took way too much time. Still, it was better than risking the frizz.
As the reception got under way, Hermione found her way to the drink table where some sort of punch was set out with an interesting float of what she assumed was some sort of sherbet. She glanced about even as she spooned herself some. There was no telling where her mates had gotten off to and she found herself smiling and nodding to those people she knew and faces she recognized. At this type of gathering, that meant quite a few. Which was well and good. She smoothed down her dress and wondered where she could hunt down Ginny.
If there was one thing Oliver Wood would never doubt again, then it was the fact that being able to throw a party of epic proportions seemed to be written into the genetic code of each and every Weasley. It was brilliant (though there was a distinct lack of Quidditch). The decorations were tastefully done and to his amusement Oliver was easily able to convince himself that some of the golden, glittery stuff was supposed to symbolize Snitches.
Grinning, he nodded at the old wizard who was jabbering on and on about a Quidditch move that hadn't been used in centuries (mostly because it usually ended up with the Keeper parting with several of his limbs which Oliver, despite his great love for the sport, had no intention of doing) and looked for a way out. Typically, no one was in sight. It seemed as if all the people he knew had vanished into thin air or at least possessed more brains than he did and evaded the old wizard on sight.
Oliver gave the man another shaky smile and just decided on inventing a person he absolutely needed to see when his jaw dropped most inelegantly in mid-conversation. Was. That. Hermione???
The old wizard nodded. "Shocking, yes but they forbade it, indeed."
"Yeah. Shocking." Oliver agreed and patted the man's shoulder. "If you'll excuse me, I've got something...I need to catch with someone. Can't let her wait." And off he was, barely listening to the old man's reply as he caught up with Hermione, wearing a bright smile.
"Miss Granger. You clean up nicely."
Hermione was sipping her punch and carefully scanning the crowd when she heard the familiar voice behind her. She smiled as she turned and stopped short as she saw Oliver Wood, looking to be in much better spirits than he had when she last saw him. It brightened her own smile considerably as she laughed at his compliment. "Yes, well...." She smoothed down her dress once again, a little self-consciously. "I can't take all the credit. Ginny helped me pick it out." She stopped short of lifting a hand to her hair and risk mussing it and earning the ire a certain helpful red head, "And a few hair potions to tame things a bit."
She hadn't had to go dress shopping since the Yule Ball and none of what had lingered in her closet seemed at all right or even fit quite the same. Besides, she was hoping to make an impression. It wasn't often she took the time to dwell on her own appearance. So today was an exception. Who knew, maybe she'd pay a little more attention in the future. A little. "You're looking rather smashing yourself, Mr. Wood. No Quidditch uniform...no off color instructions on a t-shirt," she teased playfully. "It seems we both did nicely," she lifted her cup. "Cheers."
As she took another sip she wondered belatedly if she should've checked that it was safe. There were enough pranksters running around that she wouldn't put it past someone deciding to spike the punch. "Really, I'm glad to see a friendly face," she smiled. "I didn't expect there would be so many people." Granted, Bill Weasley's wedding was bound to be an event.
"Enjoying yourself so far?"
"I do now." Oliver smirked and lifted his cup, too before leaning forward in a conspiring way. "Can you believe there are people who still think the Spangled Starfish manoeuvre is a good move?" He scoffed at this clearly absurd thought. "Crazy, huh?"
Oliver took a sip of his drink, then started tugging at his tie. Damn Thaddeus for persuading him to dress the Muggle way! These ties were bloody suffocating him! Oliver smiled a pained little smile. "I can't wait to get out of this and into inappropriate clothing again." He admitted and grinned as he watched Hermione looking so surprisingly feminine in her dress. When exactly had Miss Bushy Hair and Big Front Teeth grown and formed that much? Godric! She even had fully developed... "Nice...er..." Oliver tore his eyes away. "Hair. I mean, I liked it wild and with a life of its own. Looked like you just came back from a nice, long flight and I'm getting myself into trouble here, aren't I?"
"Good." Hermione found herself smiling and was taking another sip behind her cup to try and hide her own sudden enjoyment when Oliver leaned in close. She blinked and then looked momentarily confused. "Spangled...what fish?" This used to happen whenever Viktor tried to mention such things to her. She knew just enough about Quidditch to be dangerous. And not enough to talk details. Maybe she shouldn't have tuned out Harry and Ron when they were always on about such. "I...uh," she offered a weak smile. "Madness?"
When Oliver began figeting with his tie, she couldn't help but grin. "No, here...." She set her cup down and turned him toward her so she could take a look. She began to make skillful adjustments to help his knot be more comfortable, "I would help my dad with his ties all the time. Mum said he was absolutely hopeless on his own." She finished the last tug and patted his chest. "There." Hopefully better. "You look quite smashing."
When he looked away Hermione found a full on blush creep into her cheeks. She cleared her throat, taking up her cup once again to occupy her hands with something other than his person. She laughed when he talked of her hair though. "A life of its own is right. Trust me, only a special occasion could cause me to spend the better part of an hour wrestling it down." She gave him a sidelong look at his question and then gazed back over the crowd. "Perhaps. But I seem to be good at finding trouble over the last several years," she teased. Hermione Granger, relaxed and doing playful banter? The world had gone topsy turvey...or the twins really had spiked the punch.
The corners of Oliver's mouth twitched in amusement. "Woman, you dated a Quidditch player and don't even know the basics?" Oliver teased, the corners of his eyes crinkling up with his wide smile. "Okay, now. I could try to give you a very basic overview on Quidditch but you need to think carefully: Do you really want to encourage me to go on a Quidditch-rant? I can keep that up for hours." At least. His personal record was a whole day and throughout the night until the next dawn. And that had been the abridged version.
Instead Oliver trailed off as Hermione fiddled with his tie and miraculously got it into a position where it was bearable at least. Oliver raised a hand in wonder, attempting to poke her masterpiece but then thought better of it. Knowing his skills he's have it undone in a minute again, so perhaps it was better to keep a respectful distance from the tie. Oliver's hand dropped again and he looked a little sheepish as he caught Hermione's blush. For a moment Oliver wasn't really sure what to do. Blushing was good, right? But should he actually be making Hermione blush? Wasn't there some off limits rule? He thought he recalled something unwritten. How it had always seemed like there was an invisible sign floating around Hermione, declaring her as 'off limits'.
He frowned and bit his bottom lip thoughtfully, his gaze wandering off to the others who were chatting happily and the couples on the dancefloor. Oliver grinned again as he thought he caught a glimpse of one of the twins, stealing off into the shadows with what he presumed was one of the bride's part-Veela cousins. He had better make sure no one snagged Hermione away.
"Looks like your hair has gotten you into trouble again, Miss Granger." Oliver said and - being his usual spontaneous self – held out his hand. "Want to hit the dance floor? We wouldn't have to dance, we could just stay there and be in the way which certainly has its appeal and I am babbling. Sorry."
He shut up, embarrassed again. This always happened when he was nervous. Floodgates seemed to open and Oliver talked the world into oblivion.
Hermione smirked and chuckled lightly as she took his teasing in good stride. "I assure you I have most certainly learned the basics," she countered swiftly. "But this maneuver whatever-fish is something else entirely." She turned her nose up in the air, but her smile was betraying her. "Besides, I knew enough to help Harry with that spell. And it took some thought to come up with." Not that she didn't enjoy it. Besides, she wanted Gryffindor to win, of course, and her best mate to be a hero.
She held up a hand, "Oh, no. You're not going to blame me for wanting to go on your Quidditch rant," she smiled. Hermione knew all he needed was an excuse, and she might prove to be a right easy one. But she couldn't blame him. She had her own subjects of expertise that made her go on at times. He'd learn that soon enough however. If he didn't know much about Hogwarts history, he might get a few owls to help explain it.
Hermione might be amused, or maybe not, to know that such a label had ever been assigned to her. Engrossed in her studies as she was, her social life had been non-existent, outside of fourth year. Just her and her best mates. But contrary to popular belief, she had rather hoped otherwise, but opportunity just hadn't presented itself. So she occupied herself with other things, as academics was always her foremost concern no matter what. Outside of Voldemort.
And now here was a talented, and rather handsome, bloke talking to her and was he .... "Dance?" She looked at the dancefloor and was smiling. "Yes, I'd love to." She set down her drink and, looking down at Oliver's hand, she placed her's in his grasp. She would have been tickled that he thought anyone might want to steal her away. It seemed rather unlikely in her mind. "You think you're babbling?" She actually laughed at that and her eyes were alight with amusement as they made their way to an open space.
"You're more than fine," she assured him, thinking it was something she'd been accused of herself. Hermione left her hand in his and the other at his shoulder. "But I didn't know you liked to dance. It doesn't involve a broom, after all," she teased him.
"The spangled-starfish manoeuvre is the basics!" Oliver gasped, his Scottish burr enhancing with his agitation. "Okay, let's get a napkin or something I can draw on and then I can show you how..." He stopped in mid-rant and smiled sheepishly. "See? Told you it's dangerous to nudge me into the general direction of Quidditch. I tend to latch on to it."
He grinned and, recalling that this was likely the last evening they'd spend together before each of them went off to fight for truth, justice and cauldron cakes, squeezed Hermione's hand.
"I...well, I figure I'll have to dance eventually tonight and a small person like you? I guess it won't hurt if you step on my toes." He teased and attempted to dance and finding it far easier than expected. Of course it helped that really no one seemed to be paying attention to them and Oliver took that as an excuse to pull Hermione closer as he caught Viktor Krum's gaze and gave the other man a cheeky grin before securing his hold on Hermione. The danger of her getting snatched up had been put to rest for the moment, Oliver thought smugly, his attention fully back on the young woman in his arms.
"How soon do you think you'll leave?" He asked, knowing that Hermione would get his meaning and realize that he wasn't talking about the wedding reception. Oliver had a vague – and slightly insane - idea of some things he still wanted to talk to Hermione about before she left.
"Tend to? A mild way of putting it, don't you think?" Still, Hermione couldn't help but be amused, and terrified, by her near miss of being taught such intricate, and likely confusing, flying strategy. And this from the young woman who rarely met a piece of knowledge she didn't want to absorb. If only Quidditch were magic theory. "And you need a nudge toward Quidditch like I need one toward a library." Which was to say he needed very little encouragement at all.
She found she was surprisingly comfortable dancing with Oliver, the slight squeeze to her hand illicting another smile. His playful manner only made her more relax and thereby talkative. "Me?" She laughed, "You're the bloke who doesn't like his feet planted on the ground. I'm quite pleased and comfortable in my footing, thank you." She scoffed in an exaggerated manner, "But with such a towering burly figure so close I should be in fear of my own toes." Of course, she was anything but fearful as his ability through the air seemed to be translating well for him at the moment.
After he pulled her closer, she actually grew quiet and simply enjoyed the cadence of the music. Hermione glanced to the side and found herself leaning her head against his chest. She hadn't said anything for a time when his question rumbled against her ear in its current position.
Hermione knew the context of the question, because even though it seemed out of nowhere, their circumstances were never exactly far from her mind. Even in such a moment of fun and celebration. "Soon, I think," she said, knowing she was already packed. "There are some things I want to do first, but soon. There's really no time to waste." So much was at stake.
"Ah, yes." Oliver smiled. "The library. The place where the books live." The place Oliver avoided at all costs since it usually meant sitting still and behaving quietly – two things that came very hard to the over-energetic young man. Nevertheless Hermione seemed perfectly at home there and quite oddly Oliver liked that. It was curious, he mused as they swayed gently to the soft music, slowly but surely being pushed to the edge of the dance-floor and nearly into the hedge that marked its border. It was curious indeed, for as much as Oliver tended to feel intimidated by people he deemed smarter than himself (and Hermione, being the smartest witch of her generation, was easily smarter than he was, Oliver was quick to admit), this feeling of inferiority just didn't seem to come. It was...refreshing.
He smiled at her quip about the safety of her toes (why had no one told him Hermione Granger had a sense of humour?) and scrunched up his nose playfully at her mock-scoff. "Feel free to complain if that towering burly figure gets too close for comfort. Merlin knows, I want to know your toes safe." Oliver's smile slid off his face slowly as he got serious once more.
"I want the rest of you safe as well." He whispered and nodded at Hermione's admission of having to leave soon. "You're right." He said quietly and stopped dancing without even realizing it. "There's something I want to do first, too. And there really is no time to waste because who knows when – or if – we see each other again since...you know and..." Oliver frowned, then gave Hermione a lop-sided grin. "I'm babbling again. Sorry." He breathed and knowing that he wasn't likely to get another chance, Oliver leaned in, stopping only when their lips were mere millimetres apart, so that Hermione had every chance to push him away or evade him should she want to.
Oliver held his breath, attempted to utilize every ounce of discipline at his disposal and – failed. A heartbeat later his usual impatience got the better of him and he brushed Hermione's lips with his own, daring her to deepen the kiss. Or knee him in the privates and push him off which was just as likely.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle a little at Oliver's summation. "Yes. That is definitely one of the many places that books live." His demeanor brought that smile again to her lips. Hermione was definitely as at home in the quiet confines of a library as he was in the open space of the pitch. She was absorbed in her own thoughts and his company to the point that she didn't notice the slow migration they were making in order to find spacing between and around other dancers as they appeared and needed room.
By the time they reached the edge of the dance floor, she could feel the change in the mood. It was a shift, a slight tensing, and she didn't need to be looking at him to know it. "I will be," she promised him. She had no intention of putting herself in harms way...at least not unnecessarily and without equal reward. When he stopped dancing, she stopped as well, and took a step back so that she could see his face. "What is it? You sound like something's wrong...?" And seeing him so serious, as opposed to his teasing of moments before, was starting to make her a little nervous.
"Oliver," she started to say to that grin of his, "you really are not babb -- " She stopped short, sucking in a surprised breath when he leaned in close. Her eyes widened but she was frozen. Her mind was racing as she considered a dozen possibilities at once. She could step back. It would create distance so she could breath. She could tilt her head away and get a similar result, but not so potentially off putting. But she didn't want to...wait, didn't want to? She hadn't even thought of that. And if she didn't want to pull away from him, what did that mean? Did she really want him to do it? And what was it precisely...was she really ready for him to kiss her? Really, she just needed a moment to think this over, and....
The moment for thought and planning had come and gone as Oliver's lips touched her's and obliviated her very carefully thought out plan of action. For once, without a thought in her head for the actual consequence, she kissed him back. Hermione took his dare and deepened the kiss in the space of a breath.
That's when the air thickened and cracked with magic, and a scream pierced the air.
Oliver's brain had shut down to a point where he couldn't even spare a thought for some gloating that Hermione responded so well to his kiss when a sudden sharp pain on his side brought him painfully back to reality. He growled deeply in his throat, an instinctive reaction more to the fact that they were being interrupted than the pain, and turned to the wizard who ran into them to give him a decent piece of mind.
However, the man gave Oliver a look of pure, undiluted terror, brushed himself off and fled. His arms still wrapped around Hermione, Oliver blinked in confusion for a moment, his mind far more focused on the taste of Hermione on his lips then on the sudden noise all around them. And then it occurred to him. The noise. The smoke. The screams>.
He gasped as flashbacks of the attack on the Quidditch stadium he'd played at ran through his mind, switching from the dark-robed figures invading the pitch to the thunderous sound of the spectator's stands crumbling in to finding his father's broken body underneath the rubble, hours after everything calmed down. Oliver's insides turned to ice and he didn't even consciously realize how he released Hermione from the embrace (though he still held on to her hand) and moved toward the source of the noise, his expression stony and determined. "Nae agin." The Scot growled, barely conscious of the fact that he spoke out loud when yet another wizard, middle-aged with a broad, kind face that was now twisted in terror, stumbled against them in a blind panic, struggling to get away from the source of the attack.
What happened next would haunt Oliver for months to come but for the present time his body once again reacted long before his mind had the slightest chance to catch up. With reflexes honed by years of spotting (and evading) approaching Bludgers from the corner of his eye, Oliver twisted around and wrapped his arms around Hermione once more, hoping to protect her with his body as he pushed them to the side. A moment later a faint greenish flash barely missed them and hit the panicked wizard next to them. The man fell to the ground and moved no more.
Hermione would have been surprised about how she responded as well if she could form a coherent thought in her head. As impulsive as Gryffindors could be by nature, she so very often was not, especially in comparison to the one whose arms she found herself in now. Hermione remained there a moment with her lips partially opened and it was a split second before she felt the chill of the air on her face rather than the warmth of Oliver's breath.
Then something else hit her like a splash of cold water in her face, sending a shiver down her spine. In almost the same instant as Oliver, the chaos that had erupted around them became apparent. The screaming, the spells and hexes, she drew in a quick breath. "No. No, this can't...." This couldn't happen. Not here. And definitely not now. Even as Oliver released her, she nearly stumbled back at the suddenness of it, feeling a little dizzy. She quickly had her wand in hand, her mind settling into reaction/action from years of experience at such a young age already.
She didn't think Oliver was fully aware of how tightly he was holding her hand. It hurt, even though it wasn't fully being registered in the midst of everything. The man stumbled into them and she tried to point him in a direction she didn't smell or see flashes of spellwork or the threat of smoke.
"Oliver! We have to get " Hermione screamed at the unexpected movement as the Quidditch keeper grabbed her and twisted them around. Her hair flew loose and momentarily blocked her view, but nothing could shield her eyes from the flash of green that so nearly caught them unaware. She was shaking and barely caught her breath as she stared at the body that had fallen to the ground so close to them. Too close. "Oh, Merlin...."
She used Oliver's forearm to stabilize herself again on her feet, looking in the direction that flash came from and quickly trying to access. Their attackers were unmistakable. Their style of robes. The curses. Death Eaters. Her mind snapped into action, she didn't have time to sit back. She caught another attacker out of the corner of her eye, from behind Oliver she flourished her wand, "Duro!" The immediate result turning the wizard to stone.
She quickly whirled then, "Avis!" She summoned a flock of bird in the direction of a pair of death eaters. "Oppugno!" The birds were set to attack, hopefully clearing a way where the guests could try to get out in the wake of the bird attack and not trample each other in confusion. "Get them this way!" She called quickly to Oliver. There was no time they could waste.
It was only when Hermione unleashed a fury of hexes on the Death Eaters that it occurred to Oliver that he should pull out his own wand. Cussing silently at his stupidity and pulled out his wand, feeling uncomfortably unprepared for this. He was a Quidditch player, for Merlin's sake! - not an Auror. The duels Oliver did, took place up in the air or, when on the ground, were done the old-fashioned Muggle way, letting fists speak rather than spells.
He gritted his teeth in frustration and nodded at Hermione, grateful to see that she at least seemed to know what she was doing. Direct the people a certain way. Good idea. Oliver tried to nudge a few fleeing persons the way Hermione indicated but quickly found that no one paid the slightest attention to him, some even shoving back viciously, struggling to run back at the Death Eaters in hopes of getting to the loved ones that hadn't managed to flee before.
Oliver frowned. This didn't work. At least not the way he did it. His eyes flickered between Hermione (who seemed to be holding herself a lot better than he did and kept clearing a path of escape, the Scot noticed absentmindedly) and to the source of the chaos when another hex hit the ground mere millimetres from where he stood and adrenaline flooded his system. And curiously enough that seemed to be exactly what was needed for Oliver to function again. The panicked haze that clouded his mind previously passed, leaving it clear and focused so that he finally caught Hermione's idea and, with the limited amount of spells he was capable of, helped her clear a path by blasting tables and chairs out of the way.
And yet there seemed to be no end to neither the number of Death Eaters nor to that of the fleeing people (nor to the bodies that lay motionless on the ground the closer they came to the Death Eaters). Playing defensively wasn't going to work for long, Oliver decided and almost smiled grimly as his coach's words came to mind: Play to your strengths, Wood.
An almost predatory smile lit up his face. His strength was a close up and personal fight and as coincidence wanted it most wizards seemed to rely on magic, being usually unprepared for a good old-fashioned punch to the jaw. He just had to get close enough.
Oliver put his wand away and caught Hermione's eyes over the chaos. "Cover me?" He yelled and with blind trust in Hermione's abilities to make it possible for him to rush straight at the nearest couple of Death Eaters (one that had replaced the one that was still struggling with the birds Hermione sent on them).
Hermione was at least in her element as an accomplished duellist, though it was one that she wished she wasn't in. Where Oliver seemed to make his wand a secondary thought, for Hermione she was already hard at work, unleashing precise and carefully planted spells in the ensuing chaos. She looked frantically around for any sight of her best mates, hoping they weren't caught as off guard as other unfortunates she found herself maneuvering around and even over.
She spared a glance over her shoulder to see Oliver trying valiantly to get people to herd themselves in a safer direction. Unfortunately it was much easier said than done. She cursed beneath her breath. Why couldn't people just listen instead of making things even worse. She back tracked closer to Scot, sending a jinx at the Death Eater charging in their direction and watching him...her...whatever fall completely on his face.
Hermione smiled at the help given as she saw one of the tables explode out of their way. Not too subtle, but definitely effective. She looked up and around quickly. "Alright," she took a breath, "we can " She stopped in mid-sentence as she caught Oliver's gaze and did he just...what?! "Good Godric, are you mad?" Of course he was. He was surely a nutter. What did he do with his wand? Wait...was he charging at them? This wasn't part of the plan. Okay, maybe she didn't exactly have a thought out plan, but if she did this wouldn't have been it! He might be mad, but she trusted him to know what he was doing.
She turned and immediately exploded a chair out of the way with a uttered word and then, "Expelliarmus!" The wizard closest to him found himself without a wand. If Oliver was going to be insane, it might as well be a fair fight. "I swear Wood if we get through this alive, I just may kill you my -- " She ducked a curse as it flew overhead and blinked, "-- self."
Hermione turned quickly and blocked another spell that was leveled in Oliver's direction in his mad dash.
He risked a look back at Hermione and a small, quiet part of his brain appreciated the sheer beauty of the way she fought. Whoever said Hermione Granger wasn't one for sports had obviously never seen her all but dance through the fight. The next moment she deflected a hex that would have likely taken his head off and that was quite enough to make Oliver stop ogling her (in the middle of a fight, too!) and snap back to business.
It seemed like more witches and wizards had joined the fight and things were getting even dirtier if possible. Oliver caught a flash of red from the corner of his eye and a Death Eater pointing his wand at it, crying 'Avada...'
Once again he didn't think but launched himself forward and stepped between them. The Death Eater halted for a moment in surprise and that was all it took. In a movement perfected by far too many bar-fights Oliver's right hand went around the Death Eater's neck, giving him an impulse forward while he swung his left elbow into his opponent's face with enough force to break the Death Eater's jaw, making it impossible for him to utter another hex. Oliver silently thanked his coach for forcing him to put on all that muscle mass that now allowed him a decent advantage to survive his own stupid ideas. And yet, something was off. He was too far from Hermione and couldn't make sure she was okay (not that she needed it. Oliver had realized that by now.)
Using some of his dirtier moves Oliver fought his way back toward Hermione's side, all the while trying to tell himself that the Death Eaters were laying off. There was the faint popping sound of people Disapparating but there was no way to tell whether or not they were Death Eaters and there was no way of telling if...
The breath was suddenly knocked out of him with some spell from behind that Oliver didn't even know the name of. However, his new opponent, a Death Eater who was clearly as much into physical fights as Oliver was, used this moment of distraction to deliver an almost classic hit on his jawbone that had Oliver seeing stars for a moment before he, still gasping painfully for air, launched himself at the other man, both of them tumbling to the ground as hexes flew about them, illuminating the scene in beautiful, though deadly colours.
If Hermione herself ever drew the parallel between such duelling athletics and the sports her friends seemed to enjoy so much, and she traditionally avoided, the young Gryffindor might've been amused. But as concentrated as she was, spell, then counter spell, another spell, and another. For not the first time since her third year, she was thankful at least to have had one very good Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
It hadn't taken long in the grand scheme of things for the reception guests to regroup and find their bearings. She heard another scream and a scrambling far off to her left and it drew her attention. The dreadful words that would probably echo through her mind for days, if not weeks from now, caught her attention. Oliver was moving into the direct line of fire and she felt like her heart stopped for an instant.
She couldn't regroup fast enough and Hermione's frustration was written clearly on her face. But then she found quickly that she wasn't needed for that one as Oliver delivered a crushing elbow to the Death Eater's face and even at her distance, she would swear later she heard an audible *CRACK* on impact. She blinked, and for a moment she didn't know whether to be frightened or impressed. The indecision lasted lasted just a moment as she found herself definitely impressed. She'd never doubt bringing a fist to a wand fight again. At least not in the case of Oliver Wood.
Hermione shook her head, Concentrate, Granger. She took a breath as she tore her gaze off of Oliver, "Expulso!" She exploded another table in the path of a Death Eater that nearly caught one of her friend's unaware from the side. She immediately turned back to Oliver, who commanded her attention since putting away his wand, and caught her breath as she saw him hit from behind.
"Oliver!" She watched the pair go tumbling and blinked as she tried to find her own opening as tangled up as they were. Dammit! Wait...wait...she had to be precise, and when Oliver's head jerked back from the hit from his opponent, she saw her opportunity. "Obscuro!" A blind fold covered the eyes of the Death Eater all over Oliver, taking him off guard as he gripped at his own face trying to tear it off.
She turned for a moment, taking in the quick flow of spells, her body tense as she expected to have to cast another at any moment, and she noticed...the familiar sounding *POP* continued from before and already she could see Death Eaters disapparating as quickly as they had apparently come in. But they were leaving in their wake such destruction....
Hermione still felt as if she didn't have time to stop, cause she knew what would set in then. The initial rush of adrenaline that had brought her such quick thought and action was beginning to trickle away. She started to realize just how hard she was breathing, just how tight her body felt, and her mind was still racing....
But there was nothing left to strike. The enemy was gone. Only the dead from their side were left.
Oliver tried to get a decent angle to throw the Death Eater off when suddenly his opponent vanished into thin air, throwing the Scot momentarily off balance. Still breathing hard from the exertion it was only now that he became aware of his surroundings again. Of the bodies lying motionlessly on the ground and the grim-looking figures of the people who had been celebrating only minutes before.
The Scot blinked and rubbed his face tiredly, wincing as he touched a spot he must have taken a hit on. He moved his jaw experimentally and ran his tongue across his teeth, making sure they were all still there and weren't loose. Apparently he'd been lucky. He'd come out of this with but a few rapidly-swelling bruises and an aching elbow. Groaning, Oliver pushed himself up into a standing position, seeking out Hermione in the chaos of the assembly of wizards who gradually became aware of the carnage this wedding had been turned into.
"Hermione?" He asked but found that his voice was drowned out by cries of pure grief. What the hell had happened? Oliver turned and felt a weight drop off his chest as he saw Hermione, seemingly unhurt. He moved to join her when more and more people pushed themselves between them and then there was someone calling a Healer and someone else crying that George Weasley was dead and suddenly Oliver found it hard to breathe. His eyesight already obscured by tears the Gryffindor allowed himself to be dragged off with the crowd. He'd catch up with Hermione later.