Chapter Ten: Oliver's Bad Day
My head keeps spinnin', She's tellin' me we'll be wed,
I go to sleep and keep grinnin'
If this is just the beginnin',
my life is gonna be beautiful
she's picked out a king-size bed
I couldn't feel any better or I'd be sick
Tell me quick oh, ain't love a kick?
Tell me quick ain't love a kick in the head?
She's tellin' me we'll be wed,
(Ain't That a Kick in the Head? – Dean Martin)
A loud squeal coming from the kitchen woke Ginny from her sleep. Grumbling she stumbled out of bed, out of her room and into the kitchen where Luna and Hermione were standing.
"Are you guys aware that it is a weekend?" she yawned.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," Hermione apologized.
Ginny waved her off. "So, what's all the excitement about?"
"You are seeing the newest reporter for the Quibbler," Luna announced, presenting Hermione.
"Oh, that's great! That means you're staying in London!" Ginny jumped up and down as Hermione nodded.
"We are very fortunate to have her. Especially since we'll be short handed later this year," Luna explained. Hermione and Ginny looked quizzically at her. "Well, I will be on maternity leave later this year."
Hermione and Ginny let out screams of delight as they both hugged Luna.
"Oh my God, this is so wonderful!!" Hermione said through tears of joy.
"It's a girl. I just know it is," Ginny squealed.
"Well this definitely calls for a celebration," Hermione announced. "And I know just how we'll do that." She grinned walking over to her purse and reached in, pulling out a Gringott's key.
"Oh a girl could get used to this," Luna moaned.
The three of them were face down on massage tables being serviced. Hermione had treated the girls to one of the most exclusive spas in the wizarding world. After this, they were going to do some celebratory shopping.
"You know, Hermione. You are going to need a new wardrobe," Ginny said.
"Hmm, you are absolutely right!" Hermione agreed.
"I guess we should head over to Bond Street after this," Luna sighed. The three broke into laughter.
Hermione was exploring the cosmetic possibilities inside Fenwicks when she heard a familiar voice.
"I'll tell you now, that that color stains."
Hermione put the lipstick down. "Harry," she said politely, "dare I ask how you know this?"
"I just do," he shrugged.
"Hmm," Hermione said suspiciously. "Fancy meeting you here of all places."
"I saw you come in here," Harry said picking up a bottle of perfume and smelling it.
"Don't aurors have better things to do than spy on law abiding wizards?" she muttered under her breath.
"Don't flatter yourself, Hermione. I was doing a bit of shopping for Molly," he said as he picked up another bottle.
Hermione put down a bottle of nail polish and looked up thoughtfully. "Oh, that's right, her birthday is coming up. I should find something for her as well," she added as she picked up her shopping bags.
"Looks like you've been doing a bit of damage to your Gringott's account," Harry said as he took a few of the bags off Hermione's hands. "Geez, how many pairs of shoes do you have in here?" he asked as he picked up a particularly heavy one.
"They're not all mine. Some are Ginny's and I won't take the time to explain to you the importance of Jimmy Choo," Hermione replied as she continued her way to the handbags.
"And the Prada and Versace?" Harry said eyeing the other bags. "Since when were you into shopping?"
"I'm not. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between Prada and Guess. That's Ginny's department, I just follow her lead," Hermione explained.
"Oh, so Ginny's with you?"
"And Luna. The girls and I are doing a bit of celebratory shopping," Hermione said perusing the handbags.
"So you've heard Ron and Luna's good news?" Harry asked.
"I'm so happy for them. Ron is going to be such a good father," Hermione beamed. "And I've got a bit of good news myself."
"You've stopped being a raving lunatic?" Harry guessed.
"Ha, ha. Very funny. I've just taken a job at the Quibbler."
"Well, congratulations," Harry said. "Now you get to write first hand about how much of a raving madwoman you are," he chided.
"I am not a raving madwoman."
"Okay, how about scorned wife whose revenge on her cheating husband is to empty his bank account?" Harry teased, picking up a small handbag.
Hermione snatched the handbag out of Harry's hands and put it back on the shelf. "Don't you have a bit of shopping to do?"
"I'm thinking of buying Molly a handbag."
Hermione opened her mouth to retort but was cut off by her friend.
"Harry! What are you doing here?" Luna asked from behind her. Hermione turned around, Luna and Ginny had come back from the restroom after battling a bout of morning sickness.
"I was just looking."
"He was just leaving."
Harry and Hermione spoke at the same time. Ginny and Luna looked confused.
"Um, Ginny. I'm glad I ran into you, I was just shopping for your mum, and Hermione here was telling me how much an asset you were to her. I was hoping you could help me out?" Harry asked, looking directly at Hermione.
"Of course! I'd be happy to, Harry!" Ginny answered brightly. Hermione gave out a quiet laugh of disbelief as Harry joined their little group.
At the end of the excursion, Harry called for a limo to take them back to Ginny's flat. The driver began loading their bags into the boot, as Ginny and Luna climbed in.
"Well, Harry, thank you for the ride," Hermione said as she made a move to join the girls but Harry stopped her.
"I'm just curious as to what Oliver thinks of your move," he asked.
"Oh, I have a feeling it will work out for the best. After all, we'll both be working here," she said cryptically.
"Both be working here?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Have you talked to him, then?"
"Why on Earth would I talk to that poor excuse of a husband?" she asked as she walked toward the car.
Harry followed. "So how do you know he'll sign with the Cannons?"
"Let's just call it a hunch," Hermione said smiling as she climbed into the car. The driver closed the door and Harry approached the window.
"What are you up to Ms. Granger?" he asked, handing Hermione her purse through the window.
"That's Mrs. Woods to you," Hermione winked and rolled the window up.
Oliver stepped into his manager's office and closed the door behind him. He had just gotten back to the States last night and hadn't slept well. The mediwitch had given him a couple of potions for the pain, but there was enough of a dull ache in his ribs to keep him from sleeping comfortably. On top of that, there was the loneliness he felt being by himself in that house since Hermione left. There was no warm smile and hug waiting for him when he came home from a long day. There was no fighting for the remote, or bathroom space when brushing his teeth at night. When he woke up in the morning, her space was empty and he was left holding her pillow which had her fading scent on it. He missed his wife who was an ocean away from him. He fucked up. Really fucked things up. He had taken her for granted. Taken what they had together for granted.
"Sit down, Oliver," his manager Gerald Frosbe said nodding to a chair, Oliver obliged him. The door opened and Rachel McKinnon walked in.
He hadn't seen Rachel since his wife walked in on them at the hotel. She had been leaving messages at his home, sending owls to him in London, all of which Oliver did not return. He wanted nothing to do with her, anymore.
"We have a bit of a situation here, Oliver," his manager began. "Ryan Fulton refuses to be on the same pitch as you and is threatening to leave the team. Although we are in negotiations with you to renew your contract, I'm afraid we are going to have to leave the table."
"What do you mean?" Oliver asked. His manager shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"You two are our biggest stars but we can't afford to lose the both of you. As of late, you have been attracting some unwanted and negative press. It's affecting the team. I'm sorry Oliver but we have to let you go."
Oliver cleared out the last of his belongings from his locker and stormed out of the locker room. Rachel was waiting for him in the hall.
"You knew about this didn't you?" he growled at her then continued on his way. She followed him.
"I've been owling you and calling your house but you didn't answer," she replied.
"I didn't think it would appropriate for me to respond."
"Oliver, you haven't said a word to me since that night," she pleaded but Oliver ignored her and kept walking. "Oliver, are you alright? Please talk to me. Oliver?" He ignored her and apparated home.
As he walked around the block, he saw people dressed in blue uniforms walking in and out of his house.
"Excuse me, can you please tell me what's going on? This is my house!" He stopped one of the men in uniform. Marshall's Magical Movers was on the label of his shirt.
"Hey man, we're just the movers. We're just picking up the boxes we were told to pick up."
"Where are you taking them?" he asked.
Oliver walked around the house. The movers were taking only a few pieces of furniture, all the books in the library as well as a few pictures on the mantle. Oliver noticed that all the pictures of Hermione and him were left behind. He ran upstairs to his bedroom. All of her things from the bathroom were gone, as well as her clothes in the closet and in the dresser.
"Oliver Wood please?" he heard a voice downstairs.
"I think he's upstairs," one of the movers replied.
A goblin had walked upstairs and entered the bedroom looking for him.
"Can I help you?" Oliver asked him.
"I'm Rangok, a representative from Gringott's. I'm here personally to inform you about your account with us. There has been some recent activity on it, most unusual for it and I wanted to rule out any fraud on your behalf."
"What kind of unusual activity?" Oliver asked.
"Well, there seems to be some rather large drafts taken from the account."
"Do you have a record of this?"
"Oh yes, here you are," Rangok replied handing Oliver a piece of parchment.
Oliver scanned the parchment. "WHAT??!!"
He stepped out of the floo network at Heathrow and ventured to an apparition point.
He landed two blocks away from where he wanted to be. He tried again.
The same result. He swore angrily under his breath and began to walk toward his townhouse. Hermione and he had kept their townhouse in London after they moved to the States, using it to stay when they were in town for the holidays or vacation. Or as in the past few weeks, when you're in London trying to reconcile with your wife.
He walked up to the front door and used his key to unlock it. But it didn't work. He looked around, no one else was in sight. He pulled out his wand and muttered the charm to unlock the door, it didn't work. He could hear footsteps on the other side before the door was yanked open.
"Hermione?" Oliver asked surprised. "What are you doing here? I thought you were staying with Ginny."
She stood in the doorway of the home, arms crossed, wearing jeans and a white sweater. Her hair looked different as it cascaded around her shoulders.
"I've imposed on Ginny long enough and seeing as I was offered job here in London, I needed to stay somewhere more permanent."
"A job? Where?" Her husband asked.
"Luna's offered me a job writing for the Quibbler."
"Honey, that's great!" Oliver brightened but Hermione threw him a condescending look.
"I assume you're here to pick up your things?"
"My things?" Oliver asked, confused. Hermione nodded and picked up a large box, shoving it in Oliver's arms. "I assume this is the reason why I can't apparate here?"
"And why your key doesn't work," Hermione finished.
"You can't kick me out of my own home," Oliver threatened.
"Our home," Hermione shot back. "And yes, I can."
"Where am I supposed to stay while I'm here in London? You know I'm in the middle of a deal."
"Not my problem," Hermione chirped and closed the door in his face.
"You nearly drained our account at Gringott's. I don't even have enough money for a few days at a hotel!" he shouted at the door.
Hermione yanked the door open again. "Why don't you use your credit card? I'm sure it's seen enough charges at hotels," she hissed before slamming the door in his face again.
Two days later, the Daily Prophet headline read: Wood Returns to the UK: Oliver Wood signs with the Chudley Cannons.