The Order Of The Phoenix - Hermione Granger x OC

Prologue

Mrs. Montclair woke up in the middle of the night, her mind entangled in a web of restless thoughts that hindered her from finding solace in slumber. She made her way downstairs hoping that a cup of warm milk would be the key to tranquility.

As she descended the stairs, the creaking echoed through the quiet house, seemingly magnified in the stillness of the night. But what she encountered in the living room startled her, sending her heart racing. There, slumped over in a chair, was Oliver, her son, clutching his wand tightly in his hand.

"Oliver, honey," she whispered, as she approached him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

Oliver, startled from his troubled sleep, snapped awake, his senses on high alert. In a swift motion, he drew his wand defensively, aiming it at Mrs. Montclair, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and confusion.

Realizing the state of panic that had enveloped Oliver, Mrs. Montclair raised her hands in a soothing gesture."It's okay, Ollie, it's only me."

"Sorry, Mom," Oliver replied, his tense grip on the wand relaxing as he lowered it and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his weary eyes.

Mrs. Montclair placed a comforting hand on Oliver's shoulder."Please, go to bed, honey," she pleaded softly, hoping to ease his worries.

But Oliver couldn't bring himself to comply, his worry etched deeply in his features. "I can't, Mom. I need to be ready in case he tries to hurt us again," he explained, his gaze fixed on the front door.

"I understand your concerns, honey, and I also admire your bravery, but I'm sure Dumbledore won't let anything happen to us,"  Mrs. Montclair reassured.

Oliver scoffed in frustration. "He did a really great job protecting Henry, didn't he?" he said bitterly.

Mrs. Montclair went silent, her eyes filled with sadness. "Honey, please, we've already had this conversation. Henry's death was tragic and difficult for all of us, but it wasn't Dumbledore's fault. Now, please, go to bed. As your mother, it's my duty to ensure the safety of both you and Isabella."

With a heavy heart, Mrs. Montclair embraced Oliver, hoping to convey her love and reassurance in the warmth of her embrace.

Reluctantly, Oliver made his way upstairs towards his room. Along the way, he passed Henry's room and couldn't help but stop at the doorway, gazing inside. Anger boiled over inside him as a flood of childhood memories with Henry started rushing back, reminding him of the pain and loss.

With a heavy heart, Oliver tore his gaze away from the room and continued down the hallway. As he passed Isabella's room, he could faintly hear quiet sobs emanating from inside. The sound pierced his soul, reminding him of the shared grief they were navigating as a family.

Unable to ignore her pain, Oliver gently pushed the door open, revealing Isabella huddled on her bed, her tear-streaked face buried in her trembling hands. He quietly entered the room, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her fragile frame.

"I miss him too, Isabella," Oliver whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

The next morning cast a somber atmosphere in the Montclair household. Oliver sat on the couch, heart heavy, as he mindlessly watched the flickering images on the television screen. Meanwhile, Isabella remained in her bedroom, her shadowed figure buried beneath the weight of her own thoughts. Mrs. Montclair sat at the computer desk, her eyes tired yet determined as she diligently worked from home.

As the silence permeated the air, Oliver's restlessness intensified. He couldn't bear the stifling atmosphere any longer, yearning for a break from the monotony and an opportunity to bring a spark of joy back into their lives. In a sudden burst of inspiration, he decided it was time to take Isabella somewhere.

He grabbed his phone to look up showtimes at their local movie theater, hoping to find a much-needed source of escapism for himself and Isabella. With a touch of anticipation, Oliver also checked his messages, his heart sinking as he scrolled through the string of unanswered texts he had sent Hermione over the course of the summer.

Each unrequited message felt like a blow to Oliver's hopes, deepening the growing void of their relationship. He couldn't help but wonder why Hermione had distanced herself, leaving him to grapple with a jumble of emotions - confusion, frustration, and a nagging fear that he had lost her forever.

Oliver got up and walked to Isabella's room, knocking gently before opening the door. "Hey, Isabella, would you like to go see a movie or do something fun?"

"Not really," Isabella whispered, her voice muffled by the blankets that still covered her.

Oliver took a step closer. "Come on, Isabella. It might do us some good to get out of the house. Plus, that new comedy movie everyone has been talking about just came out a few days ago," he said, trying to infuse his words with enthusiasm.

Isabella remained silent, not offering a response to Oliver's invitation.

Oliver playfully started poking her. "Don't be boring now. Are you really going to make your poor older brother go see a movie all by himself? I mean, who does that?"

Isabella finally emerged from beneath the covers, her hair an absolute mess, and her eyes still puffy from crying.

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "Only if you buy me some sour patch."

Oliver's smile widened as he replied, "I think we can arrange that, my dear sister." With a warm glint in his eyes, he extended his hand to help Isabella get up.