Chapter 4
August, 2003
Bill looked down in surprise at the witch that had just stumbled into him. He recognized her instantly, of course. What British witch or wizard didn't know the incredible Hermione Granger? Though of course, to all of them, she was a heroine. A third of the Golden Trio who had sacrificed her childhood and nearly her life (many times over, if the papers were to be believed) to save them all. But as Bill looked down at the woman, he didn't see any of that. Instead, he saw the girl he had spent so much time with during the summer after her sixth year, who had spent hours every day with him and Fleur both as he recovered at the Burrow.
Of course, at the time, she hadn't been anything more than a very good friend; even without his new wolf-like senses making him hyper-alert to every little thing, he could see that she was in love with his younger brother. And he himself at the time had been very happily in love with his then-fiancee. No, what had existed between them then wasn't anything romantic. Hermione was a young girl- he had never even thought of her as a woman, then- who was simply an incredible intellectual, brilliant far beyond her years, and she had been essential in solving the constant problems that arose throughout his recovery. Fleur had told him more than once as she helped Molly treat him about how the spell or potion they were using came from research from Hermione. Bill also saw when, sometimes, Hermione would simply sit with the other witch and offer her comfort when the responsibilities of caregiving became too much.
But what he most remembered were their talks. When intense pain riddled his body that no potion or spell could provide relief from, Hermione would just talk with Bill for hours, at an intellectual level that almost no one else had managed to connect with him on. They had had debates so intense over which spell to use here, how to prepare that potion ingredient there, that the arguments oftentimes only ended when one or both of them was called away, for meals or the loo or whatever else. In those moments, he was able to forget his pain and lose himself instead in trying to prove her wrong. It had been one of the worst summers of his life, but he had also found a good friend in Hermione. And he had been able to repay the favor later on, when she came to Shell Cottage in desperate need of treatment and help. Although Fleur had done nearly all of the tending to her wounds, Bill still did what he could for the girl, and she had thanked him more than once for distracting her from the darkness that was living inside her, even as the poison of the cursed blade was slowly drawn out day by day.
All of that flashed through his mind now as he studied her, and he really couldn't help but notice that in their time apart Hermione had truly grown up. Gone was Ron's bookish little friend of fourteen, the willowy girl of sixteen, and the malnourished girl of eighteen. In their place was a woman of twenty-three, who had finally blossomed now that the world was no longer on her shoulders. Her face was no longer rounded and young, nor was it sharp with hunger and exhaustion. Now she was almost glowing, though he supposed that could be the heat or the torch-light. Amber eyes looked up at him through full lashes, and her teeth bit down into a set of perfect lips. Her ample curves were flattered by the leather gear required for curse breaking, and the wild hair he remembered so well was no longer a bushy tangle but instead fell in elegant curls that were currently piled high on her head. In short, Hermione Granger was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.
Instantly, Bill pushed those thoughts away and summoned his composure. She's Ron's wife, he chided himself. He felt no guilt for looking; he was a single man again, after all, but he did feel rather guilty for the brief but very lusty thoughts that had quickly flashed through his mind at her appearance. Desperate to distract himself and curious as to what she could possibly be doing in Egypt, Bill felt everything tumble out of him in an embarrassing rush.
"Hermione! How are you? What are you doing in Egypt? Where's Ron? How have you guys been?" Hermione looked taken aback at the rapid-fire nature of his questioning, even as she smiled up at him. Had she been single and had he been interested, he would be mentally slapping himself vigorously for how much he sounded like a school-boy in that moment. But she wasn't single, and he wasn't interested, so it didn't matter. Right?
"Ok sorry. Let's try that again." Bill said with a self-deprecating laugh. "I apologize, I was just so surprised to see you and it's been so long. How are you?" he asked, making sure that he kept it to just one, simple question. But apparently it wasn't that simple, because immediately Hermione rolled her eyes.
"I'm fine, just frustrated. This project has been really kicking my arse, you know?" she said with a tired sigh. "In fact, I was just on my way home to catch a shower and try to sleep some, but I'm rather wound up at the moment. Care to go for a drink?" Hermione asked, a cheeky grin now on her face. "You can ask me all those questions again, just maybe one at a time?"
Had she been one of his brothers, Bill would have reached out and smacked her for that joke at his expense, but she wasn't, so he didn't. Instead he simply responded with: "Sounds great! I've got some work to do for bit, so why don't we meet at Khashāb near the Gringotts branch in-" he paused and looked down at his watch. "-An hour? Is that enough time?" he asked.
"That's perfect," she responded with a bright smile, and he nodded.
"Alright, settled then. See you in an hour Granger."
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Hermione took a seat at the bar, a whole five minutes early, trying not to obsess over her hair, her outfit, and what exactly had she been thinking, asking Bill Weasley of all people out for a drink? It couldn't be a date, because he was a married man, and he obviously thought she was a married woman. So she had gone and gotten all dressed up for nothing, really, and once Bill knew she was single he would probably see right through the makeup, carefully styled hair, and knee-length but otherwise deeply immodest sundress she had chosen to wear. She had just set herself up for rejection, honestly, and maybe if she left now she could have the bartender let Bill know that she wasn't feeling well and had to cancel without bumping into him?
And then her escape plan became completely moot as the curse breaker in question casually dropped into the seat next to her. "Hey," he greeted her with an easy smile, and Hermione instantly felt her mind turn to mush as she took him in. He had also changed before coming, exchanging his leather jacket, boots, and fang earring for a plain black t-shirt and jeans, grey trainers, and a pair of simple diamond studs. But of course on his body, taut and lean from years of quidditch and curse breaking, the outfit most would probably call boring seemed downright sinful, the shirt and jeans hugging him in all the right places. Hermione felt rather proud of herself when she managed not to drool and instead eked out an equally casual "Hey, yourself". After a few minutes of idle chitchat, discussing the weather and their plans for the weekend, the bartender arrived to take their order.
"I'll have a whiskey sour, please, and for my friend...?" Bill trailed off, looking to Hermione.
"Could I actually just get a virgin strawberry Daiquiri, please?" she asked politely, drawing looks of surprise from both Bill and the bartender. She sighed inwardly at the reaction that she got every time but still hated. She preferred going to bars for her Daiquiris since they were typically better made in them, but skipping alcohol while at a bar always surprised the bartender and at least one person nearby who somehow always managed to overhear her order. She kept the smile plastered on her face though, and after just a slight hesitation the bartender nodded, then asked if they'd like to open a tab.
"On second thought, I think I'll have what she's having and settle up right now. You can keep the change," Bill said, carelessly tossing a galleon on the counter. The bartender's eyes lit up, and Hermione instantly fumbled for her purse. "Bill, you really don't need to pay, and I can-"
"It's nothing, love, truly." he cut her off, and Hermione felt something inside her flutter at the casual term of endearment. "Besides, you know my mother. She'd box me 'round the ears for letting a lady pay, even if it's just going out with a friend," he said playfully.
His words about "just friends" crushed that fluttery feeling instantly, but Hermione knew she couldn't let it show. Married man, married man, married man, she chanted internally, and turned her focus to the last part of his statement, letting the image of a furious Molly Weasley chasing after her adult son fuel a genuine laugh. The bartender was back with their drinks just a moment later, and the lightning service reminded Hermione of the other reason she preferred bars, specifically wizarding ones.
"How would you feel about moving to a booth?" Hermione asked, glancing around until she spied an empty one and gesturing to it. Bill acquiesced, and once they had gotten themselves settled she explained: "I just hate sitting at the bar since I don't drink much. People give me weird looks all the time and I actually once had a bartender tell me I was taking space that could be filled by more "valuable customers", if you can believe that." she said with a laugh.
"So why don't you drink much?" Bill asked, serious in the face of what she thought was an anecdote that warranted at the very least a snort or scoff, if not a chuckle. Hermione was surprised at the fact that a question that could be so loaded seemed to fall so easily from his lips. But then, he just had that sort of charisma about him, she thought. It drew people in, made them comfortable and willing to share all their secrets. She had seen it in action many a time over the years, but despite that she fell victim to it just like everyone else.
"Well..." she hedged for a moment before deciding to simply plunge straight in. "Ronald developed a drinking problem after the war," she began, looking down into her drink and toying with the straw, feeling ashamed at the admission as though the addiction were her own. "And there was one particular night, probably... oh I don't know, six months or so before I left him?-" she noticed the surprise on Bill's face at those words, but decided he could ask his questions afterwords. This wasn't a story she particularly enjoyed telling, but she had committed, so Hermione took a deep breath and carried on.
"He came home from the bar on a Tuesday night so completely wasted that he didn't even know his own name," she tried to laugh a little, lighten the story, but Bill's mouth didn't even twitch. "I tried to take care of him like I always did, but he got angry, really belligerent, you know how he gets," she said, and her companion simply nodded in agreement but didn't speak a word, his silence effectively spurring her on. "Anyways, long story short, he fired off a few spells. Almost burned down the flat, hit me with a pretty good slicing hex, and called me just about every foul name in the book. And then, the next morning... he didn't remember any of it. Wouldn't apologize for it." the last words were a whisper as she was pulled back in time, looking into her husband's eyes that day realizing that no matter what promises he made, things weren't going to change. At that point, she had still had some hope that counseling could fix things, she explained, but ultimately alcohol was largely responsible for the demise of her marriage, and she had sworn it off ever since.
"Hermione..." Bill's voice was quiet, and the grief in it as he murmured her name and the feel of his cool, calloused hand covering her own brought her back to the present. She cleared her throat and shook her head just slightly, refocusing on the man in front of her and pulled her hand gently away. Married man. She smiled.
"It's alright, really. It's been almost three years now and I love my life here," Hermione assured him, but Bill didn't look convinced, so she went on. "Really, without him I wouldn't be here. And I think curse breaking was really meant to be my calling in life!" And just like that she managed to turn the conversation away from Ron, away from herself. They spent the next few hours regaling one another with stories of their adventures over the last three years; Bill told her about a dormant dragon egg he had tracked down in Peru, in the middle of an enchanted forest. Hermione told him about a tomb project she had worked on that had so many layers and was buried so far beneath the surface that they had been forced to camp in the tunnels for almost a month as they made their way through. But try as she might, eventually the conversation came back to her and Ron, and Hermione sighed. It had been fun while it lasted, hearing about his adventures and sharing hers, but now it was time. Hermione braced herself for the interrogation she knew was about to begin.