Aaaand here we go - I finally managed to upload it all. I'm aware that my time keeping skills truly are horrid and that no excuse really could explain this long wait, I just hope you did enjoy it nevertheless.
Enjoy the last chapter.
XLVII.
"An espresso and a blueberry-muffin, please."
There she was again. His witch – his lovely Hermione.
It was summer, a year had passed since he had first seen her, they had traversed heaven and hell together – and were yet ensconced in darkness. He had not thought she would be here, his nook was completely unprotected, his mind yowling at him to just raise his goddamn head and look at her. He resisted. Stubbornly. Valiantly.
He gave in.
Oscar Wilde had once said: I can resist everything, except temptation.
And what a temptation she was. She was Sex On Legs. Dressed in a floor-length black skirt and a white spaghetti top she was simplicity in person, Sex In Simplicity. Covertly he watched her, his eyes straining to take in every detail of her. Even the smallest of changes.
Waiting for her to walk to her usual nook, he was surprised when she made a turn at the cash and instead directed her steps towards him.
Shit.
Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.
"Hello, Bill.", she greeted softly, taking the seat opposite of him. "I haven't seen you in a long while, how do you do?"
"Busy.", he replied unthinkingly – it completely passed him that they had recreated their first civil phrases to each other, from a year ago until much later that evening.
"Work?", she asked, nodding towards the photographs strewn around his table.
He shrugged. "You know it."
XLVIII.
"Why did you become a healer?" he asked her conversationally once, over a cup of tea – he burnt his tongue again, she didn't even say anything anymore, simply shook her head at him. They were bent over a game of chess and he had to admit that despite Ron's constant whines that Hermione was a lousy player, she actually held herself quite admirably… that was to say: she got dangerously close to winning the game by each move she made.
For a second she looked up, moving her bishop to stand in front of his last pawn – he'd had high hopes for it, hoping to be able to cross the field and make it his missing Queen, it appeared though that he'd have to delay that particular plan.
"Balance… the war… Snape, although he gladly has no idea of that… Remus… George…"
His eyes were trained on her pained expression as he waited for her to organize the storm of thoughts he had set loose in her head. She sighed, sipping at her coffee.
"Everything actually. I… killed at the battle and yet, my wand – unicorn hair, can you believe that – still worked for me. Killing is not a noble thing. Not even when it's for freedom. Not even when it's for god. Not when it is for the right thing. Killing is awful – there is a reason that you can only create a Horcrux by Killing a Person, preferably someone close to you. It tears your soul.
"I could feel it that day, I could feel the tightly wound strings that had heretofore held me together snap and my soul splitter and my wand still worked – pardoned me all my wrong-doings, because it believed me to be still pure. It wasn't until I met up with Ollivander after the war that he was able to clear up my confusion: I had a talent of walking the narrow, grey line between Light and Dark – I had decided for the Light, I needn't have to.
"Unicorn hair… has always been the core of healers, I decided it was worth a shot. I needed something, just anything that would keep me occupied – my training did. And it helped me heal: we were expected to be psychologically stable and, I won't lie to you, I went to more hours with the psychiatric than any of my peers – but it paid off, I healed. Ron and Harry were not so lucky back then."
"Is this a reason for the… distance between you and my family?" he asked softly. Hermione, despite their friendship, had always kept her secrets and had never let him in on them. They stepped into another direction entirely this time, and Bill was keen on seeing how far they would be able to walk this particular path.
The witch smirked drily. "Obviously. Ron was… hung up on me, and as far as he was concerned, I left him alone to go and play doctor all the while getting better. He did not understand."
Bill doubted he understood even now, but he did not say that. For now, he simply absorbed what Hermione had told him and carefully filed any questions away for later – too much prodding at once would lead him nowhere.
XLIX.
"For real?", she asked, laughter in her voice, merriment in her eyes. They were, yet again, bent over a tome and translations respectively, Hermione's espresso-cup empty, Bill's Earl-Grey still hot as fuck.
"I've toyed with the idea for some time, honestly, but well… at first I thought I needed to establish a solid image in society…"
Hermione nodded in agreement and understanding.
"… and then there was Fleur… and she never really liked the stuff…"
Again, an understanding nod.
"… and then I kind of forgot, until I recently found my drafts again, and I thought, why the hell not? I wanted it and I knew that there would never be the perfect time for it, so I set the date with Charlie's man…"
"And now you don't want to go alone?" she smiled – he liked making her smile.
"Well… something like that. Although it's a little of the curse-breaker in me – I don't like offering my back up to someone without knowing that there is someone to watch it for me."
A sly smirk spread over her face and he knew she'd detected his half-arsed lie, but she still agreed to go with him and 'watch his back' while he got his tattoo.
L.
When he'd agreed to repay her 'watching his back', he hadn't known it would be on Hogwarts Grounds – and especially not in the Quidditch pitch.
"Hermione? What are we doing here?"
The petite witch next to him took a deep fortifying breath – he could tell she was jittery. Why, he asked himself, did she come here when, obviously, this place was as filled with bad memories as it was?
"It is a truth universally acknowledged…", she started and Bill's eyes widened, "that I cannot fly."
The last bit was said hastily, rasped out in one single breath, as if she wished she wouldn't have to say it again.
"And you want me to…?", he was stunned to say the least.
Talking they were fine with, hell since recently they'd started opening up about their more secretive sides – but… acting?
"I trust you, Bill." Help me, please.
His heart, tricky devil that it was, soared with pride – hearing those words from Hermione Granger, was as good as winning the Quidditch World Cup, and for the whole afternoon Bill felt like the greatest hero alive.
LI.
The Gala wore on in a soft buzz of conversation, clinking glasses and shrill laughter of the ladies.
Bill, admittedly, stood in a far corner, observing the people around him. Rolf and Luna were, once again, involved in a discussion that looked not friendly at all – his heart went out to the young woman: even if he himself had shot his one chance at being happy with the one girl he coveted, he had wished his employer would fare better.
But, there they were, heatedly discussing this or that in a corner almost as dark as his, ensconced in Silencing Charms – he almost did not see the tear on Luna's cheek, before she handed something to the young man opposite of her.
Rolf looked stumped, but then simply stomped away, leaving the beautiful blonde in her corner, the dark, glittering dress hugging her beautifully.
"She looks like Marilyn Monroe." Hermione sighed next to him.
He hadn't noticed that she had neared him, but then… he was so used to her presence that he only ever felt it when she was not around for a longer period of time.
"With the only difference that Marilyn never looked so pretty when broken." He commented, starting towards their friend, Hermione right at his side.
LII.
When Luna is so plastered that she cannot even stand anymore – courtesy of her employees – Bill carefully disentangles her from the crowd and, at Hermione's side they apparate to Hermione's flat.
"I realize", he said after they'd put Luna to bed, "that this is the first time I'm at your flat."
Hermione gives him a tired smile, pulling out the pins from her hair. She is a bloody princess tonight, a muted-golden dress, bare shoulders, gently dipping waist – Merlin he still wants her, and it had never come back to him with such a vengeance as in this moment.
"Well… it is usually something that… only very special people get to see.", she admits, shyly – preening now, supposedly searching for remaining pins in her hair, when he knows she has them all in her left hand and she is really trying to avoid his gaze.
He knows that this is his moment: he can make it or break it – and, honestly, how many people get a second chance?
So he carefully nears her, gently wrapping his fingers around her curls as he bends carefully to press a kiss to her cheek-bone. "Thank you for thinking of me as special." Bill is aware that he needs to walk small steps with her, last time they tried to leap bounds – and look where it ended up. He needs to make this right this time.
Once I have the time, mayhaps there might be more... once I have the time, and it's not sure either.
Review, please
