Chapter 5
August, 2003
Bill watched Hermione as she spoke, alight with enthusiasm and practically glowing, intoxicating and shocking him all at once. In so many ways, she was exactly how he remembered her. So long as they were engaged in comfortable topics, she was an excellent conversationalist. She was still exceptionally brilliant, an academic through and through, and as they discussed their past projects she peppered him with a million questions, offered insightful commentary, and geeked out with him over discoveries or developments that most people would likely have found boring. But there was something entirely new as well, an edge to her that hadn't been there before the war. When he tried to steer the conversation back towards her personal life, she would quickly shut down and redirect. There was a distinct dichotomy in her eyes now. When the topics were easy or even once or twice when they veered into topics that were sensitive for him, her eyes were just as soft and kind as he remembered. But any mention of her family or his, or of the war, they would instantly harden, a new sort of steel there that warned him of danger, to stay away.
There was also, of course, the change in her style. When Bill had walked into the bar, he had had to double check before approaching the girl sitting there to make sure it really was Hermione. The woman sitting at the bar waiting for him was wearing a black, backless sundress that fell just past her knees, revealing smooth, sun-kissed skin and gorgeous legs. When he had gotten closer, he couldn't help but catch the tiniest glimpse of a lacy red thong peeking out at the very bottom of her back, and when he had finally dropped into the seat next to her it had been all he could do to meet her eyes instead of ogling her barely covered cleavage. The Hermione he remembered from that summer at the Burrow had never come down the stairs in anything less than denim shorts and a tank top, and most days it was actually full length jeans and a t-shirt. Bill had felt like a complete lecher as he'd taken her in, desperately trying to remind himself that this was his brother's wife, she was like a little sister to him and was completely off-limits. When she had mentioned that she had left Ron, if not for the horrific story that followed those words he likely would have had a very difficult time keeping his focus on the conversation they were having.
But the thing that struck him the most, that made her absolutely entrancing to him was the new energy that surrounded her. He recognized it instantly from the people that had inspired him to become a curse breaker: being good at a job that was both incredibly difficult and highly dangerous built a confidence that was nearly unmatched. Bill remembered when he had realized that he had acquired that energy himself, his first trip home after being on the job for a few months. Certainly, coming back with an earring and a new sense of style had helped his "coolness" factor in the eyes of his friends and siblings, but what most people didn't seem to realize was that it wasn't any outer change that drew them in, made him seem different or special. It was the way that he absolutely believed in himself, something most people either didn't or couldn't do.
Hermione carried that self-assuredness now, and she wore it well. Every move she made had a new grace and fluidity to it. When she debated with him over how he ought to have used a bombarda rather than a reducto to remove some malignant stones that were blocking entry into an old Incan temple, she held her own in a way Bill knew the old Hermione would have been unable to. The girl he remembered would certainly have passionate debates with him, but there was a sort of people-pleasing tendency, a softness that told him that if he pushed a little too hard, she would cave and agree with him. The Hermione in front of him did not give a single inch, no matter how hard he argued until he had well and truly beaten her by pointing out that although bombarda would have given him the same result, the use of reducto ensured that the stones would not reform.
All this to say, that as Bill decided he had let them stray from the topic of her and Ron for long enough, he felt a brief flash of unease that this new Hermione might actually bite if he went too far with his questions. Trying to rein in his curiosity but determined to get answers, he settled on a much more direct query than any of the others he had proffered thus far, taking a leap and praying that maybe this invitation had been more than just a simple get-together between friends.
"So, when did you and Ron divorce?" he asked, taking a breath and holding it while he waited for her response, terrified that he had just ruined what had been an otherwise perfect night.
"Well, I filed the petition in July of 2000, I believe, but it took a few months before he was willing to sign it," she rolled her eyes, as if still exasperated by it all three years later. "So I suppose that means it would have been finalized around November of that year." She said this with a finality that told him that he ought to be done with this specific line of questioning, but Bill was committed now. He needed to know more.
"What made you finally leave him?" Hermione looked shocked at his bluntness, but he didn't back down. Instead, he held eye contact with her, determined not to look away first. She matched his stare for so long that he started to panic, thinking he had well and truly botched it, when suddenly her eyes dropped, and he knew he had won. Still, she clearly didn't want to give in so easily.
"Well..." Hermione paused, clearly trying to come up with a way to hedge the question. As he waited patiently for an answer, Bill noticed that with her drink gone Hermione was now fidgeting with something around her neck instead of her straw. The sight of a familiar golden chain with a wolf pendant, resting just above the valley of her chest, made his heart leap; he had bought her that pendant just before she, Harry, and Ron had left on their mission from Dumbledore. It had been a thank-you gift, a simple thing really, and yet she had kept it all this time, had chosen to wear it tonight of all nights. Before he could dwell on what this might mean, Hermione finally settled on an answer and spoke, her words slow and thoughtful.
"It wasn't any one thing, really. It was just... a lot of little things that built up over time, I suppose, and then there was the whole fatherhood incident, you know..." she trailed off, and Bill raised a brow in confusion.
"The fatherhood incident? What on earth does that mean?"
"It- what do you mean, 'what does that mean'?" Hermione responded, equally as confused. "Didn't you hear about it from Ron, or your mother? I could have sworn there was a letter in that stack from you, although there were so many that day-" Bill held up his hand, cutting her off.
"Hermione, love, I never wrote you anything. I was so wrapped up in the disaster of my own marriage that I didn't even know until today that you and Ron weren't together anymore." He admitted, feeling somewhat ashamed at the realization that he truly had shut out his entire family in the aftermath of Fleur's exit from his life. Instead of staying and relying on them, like he had promised his mother he would after his attack, Bill had run straight off to the first foreign assignment Gringotts would offer him.
"Disaster of a marriage? The two of you seemed so happy all the time," she murmured, almost as if to herself. Then she added a rushed: "Sorry! I'm sure you've patched things up, I don't want to make you relive those days! Heaven knows I do enough of that myself," she rambled, blushing prettily, and Bill was simultaneously struck both by how beautiful she was, and by the realization that she didn't know that he was divorced. Well. That certainly changes things, he thought to himself. Fighting to keep back the rather wolfish grin that wanted to steal across his face, Bill cleared his throat and gave himself the all clear to flirt as he had wanted to all night. He leaned forward across the table towards her and allowed his voice to drop into that deep, husky tone that always drove his female companions absolutely wild.
"Hermione, I'm not married anymore. Fleur and I divorced in July of 2000." It was instantaneous; the combination of his words and the seductive modulation of his voice had the witch across from him absolutely stunned, her jaw practically on the floor. It also didn't escape his notice the way her thighs suddenly clenched together, or how there was suddenly a new and very enticing scent drifting across his nose, and this time he couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk that crossed his face at the sight. Bill watched as she struggled to pull herself together before she spoke.
"So..." her voice came out lower and a tad bit throatier, mimicking him, and a look of mortification came over her features, though he was impressed by how quickly she schooled it away.
"So what happened with you and Fleur?" Hermione tried again, and Bill would have been lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed in how normal she sounded this time around.
"She cheated." He said with a shrug. Perhaps he was overly casual about it, but it really was as simple and complicated as that. Although finding out about Fleur having multiple abortions had been difficult at the time, that had oddly enough been easier for Bill to get over. There was no telling if any of those children had even been his, and although he still hated his ex-wife for the way she had treated him he respected her right to her body. And he couldn't lie to himself and say that it hadn't been a huge relief when the ministry had granted his divorce and there was not a single string left attaching him to Fleur Delacour. But Hermione seemed utterly gobsmacked.
"She cheated? On you?"