Chapter 14
April, 2004 (3 months later)
"Wait!! Hold the lift, please!" Hermione shouted as she rushed through the Atrium, her arms overstuffed with files and rolls of parchment. But of course, she was forced to skid to a halt just a few feet away as the grate slid closed and the lift departed. She sighed, frustrated, although with the way the last few months had been going, this was really just standard. It seemed like ever since she left Bill nothing in her life was going right; today she was late for work with an enormous coffee stain on her blouse. Last week she had attempted to clean up a spill some Ministry employee had made in the archive, and had accidentally eviscerated a scroll that was over four hundred years old. And the week before that, she had quite literally stepped on her boss's toes (in private, Hermione still maintained he had been at fault for that, since she knew absolutely no one that sat with their feet flat on the floor, several inches out from under their magically-adjusted-for-height-desk).
It didn't help, of course, that the boss in question was one Draco Malfoy, and although Theo had matured since their Hogwarts days the same could not be said for Malfoy. Hermione wasn't entirely certain how that worked in their relationship, one partner being incredibly grown up and the other being significantly more immature on just about every level, but they were a happy couple. Just that last Saturday she had attended their engagement party at Theo's behest, and seeing them together confirmed for her that they were deeply in love. Malfoy worshipped the ground Theo walked on, and Theo practically couldn't keep his hands off his fiance. It was simultaneously adorable and gave her the worst heartache she'd had in months. She was grateful that she never had to see the two of them together at work, since their relationship forced them to take different shifts to avoid unprofessionalism. But that also meant that there was nobody to keep Malfoy in line when Hermione was working with him.
So she had no expectations of anything other than a stern lecture when she finally managed to get onto another lift and down the unnecessarily long hallway to the DMRA reception desk. But for once, Hermione's prediction of how her day with Malfoy would go was wildly off. Instead of the usual snide comments and signature smirk, she was greeted by the backs of thre heads of fiery red hair and a surprisingly stoic expression on her boss's face.
"Ah, Granger, there you are. Glad you've finally deigned to join us." Malfoy said dryly, and Hermione decided she hadn't been entirely wrong in her imaginings; the snide comments apparently never stopped no matter the circumstance.
"Sorry, I- uh- the lift closed on me, and-" She was stammering, caught off guard by the way the Weasley family's heads all seemed to turn in sync to look at her, but she was saved by a dismissive wave of Malfoy's hand as he issued a sharp order.
"Don't give a damn. Go put your things in your desk and get these people out of my sight." Hermione decided to save herself further embarrassment and simply nodded, rushing past the Weasleys as Draco tapped his wand against the door labelled "Employees Only", opening it for her in a show of unusual politeness. As soon as she was in the narrow passageway, she used her foot to slam the door shut behind her, leaning against it to catch her breath. She couldn't fathom what had brought the Weasleys here in full force. The only thing she had been able to recognize, stunned as she was, was that Bill was not among them. Hermione couldn't pretend that didn't sting a bit, since this was clearly important, but as she began pacing down the hall to her desk she determinedly shoved that feeling aside. She had been the one to end things, she had no right to expect anything from him.
Depositing her work on her desk, Hermione only paused to pull out her wand and mutter a brief sorting spell, sending her things into her various drawers and cabinets before turning and walking purposefully back towards the reception room. Smoothing a hand through her hair, she resolved to be courteous while also keeping this meeting short. She had no interest in engaging in long conversations with any Weasleys other than Ginny and Arthur, and she hadn't missed the sour look on Molly's face when she had walked in.
When she finally stepped back out into the reception area, the Weasleys had all taken seats in the various chairs scattered about the room. Arthur jumped to his feet the moment he saw her with Molly surprisingly close behind. Hermione scanned the rest of the family, trying to see if anybody else was missing, but was disappointed to see that only Bill apparently couldn't be bothered to attend. Percy, George, Ginny, and Ron were all accounted for, and even Charlie was there, despite the fact that he stilled lived on the dragon reserve in Romania. But before she could wonder too much more about what was going on, Arthur was wrapping Hermione in his arms, giving her a tight squeeze that she instinctively returned.
"It's so good to see you Hermione," Arthur murmured into her hair, and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she pulled back and looked up at him.
"It's lovely to see you as well Arthur!" Hermione basked in the fatherly smile he gave her, not realizing how much she had missed it. She was about to open her mouth to tell him so when a dry voice cut across the room, interrupting their moment.
"Forgive me, Granger, but I do believe I asked you to get them all out of here, not have a tender reunion in my lobby. Please take whatever this is-" Malfoy gestured vaguely to the red-headed clan, "-elsewhere. You will not receive a strike on the record for tardiness so long as you return within the hour. Clear?" He snapped, sneering at her as she turned to face him, annoyed.
"Fine. If you need the Grey Mansion files while I'm gone, they're in my desk." Hermione snapped right back, knowing it was a weak retort but feeling unable to come up with anything better in the moment. "Shall we take this to the Burrow?" She glanced at Arthur for confirmation and he nodded, taking Molly by the hand and calling to the family to head to the Atrium. Hermione felt a bit like an animal in a stampeding herd as the Weasleys moved at a rapid pace down the hall, but she was grateful for it as they stepped off the lifts, since the Atrium was now crowded with people coming to the Ministry on business. It took almost no effort to brush past the groups clumped about, waiting for security or their visitor passes, and then she was standing in front of an open Floo. She snatched a handful of powder, waited for the flames to clear as George was transported to the Burrow, before stepping inside and following his lead.
Hermione tumbled out of the massive fireplace and immediately stepped aside, knowing that Ginny would be right behind her. Sure enough, less than a second later the redhead came leaping out of the flames, landing right where Hermione had been standing. Both girls paused on the small brick square that lead up to the hearth, brushing off the ash and dust from their trip and carefully vanishing it almost in sync. Hermione shared a brief grin with Ginny when she noticed their symmetry, realizing that she had been trained almost as well as Molly's actual children on how to keep the grime of the Floo from being tracked throughout the house.
The grin faded almost immediately, however, as she finally took in the main living room. The usual assortment of comfortable old couches and worn armchairs had been taken up by over a dozen people talking quietly amongst themselves, some of whom she recognized as former colleagues of Bill's. She caught sight of Harry giving her a wave from the left, but despite the cheeriness of the gesture, his face was solemn, even as Ginny slipped into the seat beside him. Hermione felt her heart suddenly start to pound, an ominous feeling beginning to creep up inside her.
"Here, Hermione dear, you can sit next to Ginny," Molly called over the general din, pointing to a dining room chair that Hermione assumed must have been dragged out to supplement the living room furniture. Indeed, the space was jam-packed, with more than a couple of people standing, and she found it almost difficult to breathe as she squeezed through the crowd and dropped into the indicated seat. Once she had settled, Arthur stepped up to the front of the room and cleared his throat, and immediately the room quieted.
"Thank you, all of you, for being here." Hermione tensed as she realized that, with only just those few words, Arthur was beginning to tear up. The anxious feeling was spreading now, and she could've sworn she felt it in nearly every part of her body, thrumming through her veins like a poison. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. Arthur paused, composing himself, and Hermione tried to forcibly relax her jaw, which was grinding with impatience and stress.
"As some of you already know, we've asked you here to help us find Bill. He went missing two weeks ago-" A collective gasp went up around the room, but Arthur merely held up his hand for silence and pressed on. "-On a job site in Shanghai. We have been working with Gringotts bank, but they have been unable-" His voice broke, and Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth. No. "They have been unable to locate him." He cleared his throat, locking eyes with Hermione as he choked out the rest of what he had to say. "They have agreed to allow in a search party. We have asked you all here to plead for your assistance, if you are willing and able."
Suddenly it was July, 1997, and Hermione was surrounded by Order members, everyone trying to recover from the shock of seeing George nearly bleed out on the couch. Despite the fact that Molly had almost completely crumbled with fear, Arthur had stood strong, offering a beautiful toast to MadEye before leading a full-on Order meeting, since Kingsley had been needed at the Ministry almost immediately in the aftermath. Hermione had watched in awe as Arthur directed people to various safe houses, assigned missions, and somehow managed to keep morale up despite the staggering blows they had taken that night, especially the one sustained by his family, his son. And then it was May, 1998, and Arthur was once again carrying his family on his shoulders, this time in the face of Fred's death. Hermione was once again stunned by the fortitude the man had, offering perhaps the most beautiful eulogy she had ever heard. He hadn't cried, at least not then. She had overheard him breaking down at the Burrow later that night, in the kitchen with Molly, when Hermione had come down to get a cup of tea. But even then, he had recovered quickly, resuming his role of caretaker for his wife as she broke.
And now it was 2004, several years later, but this time Arthur was breaking down, in front of everyone, and it hit Hermione just how much the Weasleys had already lost. It was no wonder the entire family had appeared at her office; they were desperate to prevent another death. She realized that Molly's face, which she had initially thought was angry, was simply twisted with grief. The matriarch's eyes were shockingly red, and as Arthur made his request she burst into a fresh bout of tears.
"Did you know about this?" Harry's voice suddenly brought her out of her thoughts, and Hermione realized he was asking her.
"No. I had no idea." She said numbly. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She hadn't even known he'd gone back out to the field. Ginny reached out, distracting her from her thoughts, taking her hand and squeezing it tightly.
"I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I wanted to tell you, but the goblins wouldn't let Mum and Dad say anything until they ran their own investigation." Tears were slipping down Ginny's cheeks, and Hermione just shook her head.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Gin. I know better than anyone how the goblins are," She asserted, squeezing back affectionately, and Ginny nodded sharply in agreement.
"Right bastards, the lot of them, taking him back out in the field when he was like that." She murmured angrily, pulling her hand away to swipe roughly at her face.
"What do you mean, 'when he was like that'?" Hermione demanded. A thought struck her, the possibility that this had something to do with her, and suddenly questions were pouring out of her uncontrollably as her fear and anxiety boiled over. "When did he go back in the field? Why did they take him? Do you know anything else?" Ginny's eyes went wide, and she shot a glance at Harry that did nothing to calm Hermione's raging nerves.
"'Mione, when you left Bill, he was... not ok." Ginny spoke slowly, clearly choosing her words carefully. "Mum made us all go on a family trip, but they just fought the whole time. And then he showed up here one night, more pissed than I've ever seen him, rambling on and on about some note you left?" Ginny shot her a questioning look, but Hermione just shook her head. Now was not the time. She gestured for Ginny to go on, knowing she was probably being rude but not finding it in herself to care. "He left the next morning before anyone woke up, and then a few days after that we got an owl saying he'd been called into the field, and he was probably going to be gone for at least a couple of months, and that was it until a couple weeks ago. Mum and Dad got an owl letting them know he'd gone missing in the field, but they said it wasn't a big deal." Tears began to slip down Ginny's face again. "But they haven't found any trace of him, and if they're desperate enough to let us in then Bill's probably- he's probably-" Ginny tried to finish the thought, but she lost it completely then, unable to finish her sentence through her sobs.
Hermione was lost. She wanted to mimic Ginny, but she didn't feel as though she deserved to. After all, the goblins couldn't force Bill out into the field. Certainly, they could be heavy-handed, and it wasn't wise to refuse too many requests from them, but Bill had earned that right. He went into the field before he was ready because of her. Hermione knew firsthand how dangerous it was to be distracted on the job, regardless of what that distraction was. Curse breakers were trained to block things out, shut down emotions, but some things could not simply be discarded. It was a large part of the reason the goblins insisted that there be no romantic relationships of any sort, because it was natural to think about the person or people you loved even when they weren't in danger. It was Hermione that had done this to him.
Harry dragged her from her increasingly spiraling thoughts when he reached over and tugged his girlfriend into his arms, rubbing his hand up and down her back in soothing motions as he spoke to Hermione. "'Mione, I can see that look in your eyes. You get that look whenever you think something's your fault, but this isn't on you," She shook her head, but Harry spoke firmly, refusing to let her or Ginny drown in the weight of everything.
"Bill is one of the most powerful wizards I've ever met. I'm certain he's completely fine," Harry said assertively.
Bill was not fine. Something was very, very wrong. He knew it, but he just couldn't seem to figure out what it was. It was as if a haze had fallen over his life from before Shanghai, leaving him only with a few certainties like his name, his magic, and Hermione. He couldn't picture the face that belonged with that name, he only knew that whoever it belonged to was someone very important to him. But the wizards of the Temple, the "Givers", were slowly convincing him, day by day, that he need not worry. Every witch or wizard who came to the Temple of Guanyin in need of her greatest gift, mercy, would find it in time. Bill did find it odd that his travel companion, who had entered the Temple with him, had disappeared, but the Givers reassured him that Robert- no, Robbie? Robbie had not been seeking the goddess in earnest, and he had simply been denied a place of residence.
So Bill tried his best to relax into the flow of life in the Temple. Every day, he was awoken by a gentle golden glow, though there were no windows in the subterranean building. He would go down to breakfast, socialize briefly with the other "Seekers" of Guanyin, before the group was summoned to the Sanctuary, a massive stone hall with an open roof, offering the only sunlight and fresh air in the entire Temple. They would perform rituals in the morning, chanting, waving wands, sometimes offering small pieces of themselves when called upon- blood, hair, sweat, and even tears were commonly requested. Everyone would break for a midday meal, and then return to the Sanctuary once more. Most of the afternoon was filled with meditation and prayer, with the Givers occasionally requesting individual time with various Seekers to discuss their spiritual growth and journey. Once the sun began to set, the group was allowed to attend dinner, and then the evenings were reserved for chores until bedtime.
It was all rather strict, in Bill's opinion, but Giver Zhu insisted that the structure, provided by the goddess herself upon the founding of the group, was necessary for Seekers to find the guidance they sought. He had wanted to argue the point, given that he felt he was receiving nothing from living on such a planned-out life, but Giver Zhu had put an end to the discussion by reminding Bill that he was only a Seeker; Who was he to disagree with a goddess? And slowly, he began to come around the perspective of the Givers; the longer he remained, the faster the days seemed to fly, and the sense of wrongness he had carried into the temple began to fade away just as the Givers had promised.
When he had first arrived, Bill was constantly plagued by dreams- images of a redheaded couple and several children, all of them reaching for him, begging for him to come home, thought Bill didn't know who they were or why "home" was with them. Some nights were flooded with pictures of men and women whose names were just on the tip of his tongue, going through various drills and exams at his side, before they all suddenly turned on him. But the worst of all were the dreams of her- beautiful, curling brown hair, wrapped tightly around his fist. Expanses of smooth, cream-colored skin gliding under his fingertips, sweet gasps and moans filling the air, and a delicate golden chain sliding between his thumb and index finger before it snapped violently, and the woman would vanish. Bill would startle awake from these dreams finding tears drying on his face, or feeling an intense sense of longing for something he didn't remember. But things were getting better; the only dreams that plagued him now were the ones of the dark-haired woman, and even those were becoming fewer and farther between as time went on.
Finally, meditating in the Sanctuary one day, Bill realized he must have been granted the gift of mercy at last: forgetting. He hadn't had a nightmare in weeks, and the nagging sense of loss and worry had faded into genuine contentment and happiness. When he was called into a meeting with Giver Zhang later that week, he reported it to the man and expressed his desire to leave the Temple. Despite what he had found there, Bill was not one to be restricted to a rigid timetable, and he felt that with this newfound peace Guanyin had granted him, he could move on and build a new life.
"My dear boy, whatever do you mean 'leave'?" Giver Zhang looked positively scandalized at the thought. Bill's face fell, and the older man clearly read his disappointment and rushed to comfort him. "It is not your time, yet. Whatever you think the goddess may have granted you, I assure you it is not the full gift. You will know that you have been found worthy of all her blessings, when you no longer feel this restlessness you have expressed to me. Then you will be ready to leave." The Giver offered him a reassuring smile, which Bill tried to return as he stood to exit the meeting, though he was sure the other man could sense his insincerity.
Traipsing slowly down the dark stone hall, lit only with a few scattered torches, Bill was reminded of work. Always in the dark, trying to find his way through poorly or unlit rooms and- wait. Work? He clung desperately to the thought, trying to follow it. Where did he work? What did he do before he came here? Perhaps this knowledge would help him understand why he was not receiving Guanyin's gift? But before his excitement could rise, a sudden headache spiked, and he nearly fell to his knees right there in the corridor. It was all on the tip of his tongue, but just as quickly as the memories came, they vanished, leaving him feeling utterly bereft. Sucking in deep breaths, Bill turned and leaned his forehead against the coolness of the wall behind him, waiting for the pain to subside. Perhaps Giver Zhang had been right after all- he clearly had not received the full gift if he was experiencing such longing for whatever was in his past life, when it obviously had incited numerous undesirable emotions in him.
When the pain had finally ebbed, Bill sucked in one last shaky breath before turning back to the hallway and wandering down to his bedroom. He was hungry, having missed dinner during his meeting with the Giver, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. No, all he wanted to do now was fall into bed and dream, dream of curly brown hair, soft skin, and her. Despite knowing he would wake up in tears, missing this mystery woman with a fierceness unlike anything he had ever known, Bill longed to see her, feel her. It might set him back on his progress, but in that moment it didn’t matter. All that mattered was seeing her again.