After a month, a routine had formed between them. Hermione would go to work, and sometimes Bill wouldn't be home when she got back. He'd leave a note or send an owl if he got called away on short notice. The emotional day they had felt like years in the past. Bill was smiling again, the spark back in his eyes.
He accepted the things that happened to him and spoke more freely about the loss of Fred. He made trips to St. Mungo's to occasionally talk to someone that helped him process his PTSD from the war. The nightmares no longer had him crying out in his sleep. Eventually, they stopped completely.
Bill realised that he was okay mostly around Hermione, or just speaking to the Healer at St. Mongo's, but he did feel himself tense up around others. He still sometimes avoided looking at George.
On one of those days that Bill wasn't home, Hermione saw a piece of parchment sticking out the corner of his bag that he left in the corner. It was a bag of precariously stuffed things after a frenzied packing of a travel bag for the work trip he was on.
Hermione thought she recognized it, and considered it for a second before tugging at it. It was Fleur's letter. She froze, then took it carefully from the bag.
Bill returned later that week to an empty house, it was only 3 pm, Hermione wouldn't be home for another hour. He dropped his travel bag in the bedroom and took a cool shower, washing sand out of his hair.
He wanted to cook something for Hermione so they could have dinner when she got back. He walked to the kitchen, trying to remember what was in the fridge with a towel in one hand to dry his hair. He paused when he saw the letter on the counter.
Water dripped in silent taps to the floor from Bill's wet hair. He turned to the fridge and rummaged through. By the time the crack rang outside, Bill had boiled some potatoes and seared off a steak, one bloody for himself. He added some roasted tomatoes and set it on the island by the stools.
Hermione walked through the door, a broad smile on her face as she sniffed the air. She loved coming home to a home cooked meal. When she saw Bill's face, her smile disappeared. His hand was next to the letter and his face was stony.
"Why is this here?" Bill asked her. He jabbed the letter with his finger.
"I wanted to talk to you about it." Hermione said softly. "Fleur loves you, she said she wants you to get better."
"And because you think I'm better, I should just go back now?" Bill asked.
"I was just going to ask about if you think you might want to." Hermione said carefully.
"Do you want me to?" Bill asked, eyeing her.
"I think you should give her a chance. To be with you as you are now. And talk to her about the things we have." Hermione said.
Bill sighed heavily. Hermione looked relieved.
"Thought I was going to be angry again?" he asked.
"Maybe, but you cooked me dinner. You couldn't have been that angry." Hermione smiled and sat on the stool. "Smells great by the way. Thank you."
"You're welcome." Bill said, and he sat next to her, abandoning the letter.
They ate in silence, but it wasn't unfriendly. As Hermione gathered the dirty dishes and made them wash themselves, she peered at Bill.
"So now that you're-" she said, her cheeks turning a little pink, "Feeling something again. How do you feel about Fleur?"
"I'm not sure." Bill said, propping his chin on his hand. "I miss her. She's been a part of my life for so long, I suppose it's expected."
"Do you still feel like her 'charm' affects you the way you thought it did?" Hermione asked.
"I felt like it was a love potion, like I had no control over my emotions and how I feel about her, because I wouldn't feel anything at all, and then she turned it on, and I'd just feel loopy. I think she was trying to get my attention." Bill explained, his eyebrows pinched together as he tried to remember the feeling.
"Well, she probably won't use it anymore. If you talk to her." Hermione said.
"I don't want to leave here." Bill said. He smiled at her, the kind smile that went all the way to his eyes.
"I don't want you to leave either. But I want you to try with her. She deserves it." Hermione said smiling back at him. "We've had our fun."
"Maybe." Bill said and he looked at the letter again.
On a lazy Sunday, Bill lay tangled in Hermione's legs, their skin glistening in the sunlight that beamed in through the windows. He saw that Hermione was about to bring up Fleur again when she glanced at his bags in the corner.
"I know." he said simply, her mouth had opened but no words had come out. She smiled and stroked his hair. "I know I won't be fully better until I talk to her."
"Look at how far you've come." Hermione said with a playful shove on his shoulder. He laughed a short bark and laid on his back. He passed his hand on her smooth thigh and Hermione smiled with a little sigh.
"When are you leaving?" she asked.
"I'm not sure. I like being here too much." Bill said. "You make it difficult to want to leave."
"You can go back to her, and talk to her. And if she's still mad, which she might not be, you can always come back here." Hermione said hopefully. "You've made so much progress, she'd be so happy."
"Don't you think it's weird? Talking about my wife while I'm still drying you off me?" Bill said with a wicked grin.
Hermione pushed his hands away. "Of course I do! She doesn't have to know, just like Ron doesn't know."
"And what do I tell her about how I got better? Magic?" Bill asked laughing.
"I mean, yes, technically you can tell her that. Memory alteration? I don't know." Hermione said, sitting up. Her hair framed her face in a wild tangle. Bill sat up to meet her and tucked her hair behind her ears.
"Okay." He said. She was right, he couldn't tell Fleur. "Should I write her a letter, or just show up at my house?"
"Write first, she might be in France." Hermione said, kissing his forehead before she got out of bed, walked to the bathroom and turned the shower on.
"You're right, it's summer." Bill said and he followed Hermione into the shower. He pulled her hair in a fistful to bend her head back, exposing her neck and he kissed her. The water dripped from his hair into his eyes. He pushed Hermione forward, out of the water, and pressed himself up against her. Hermione wiggled, and he slipped into her with a throaty moan.
He stayed with her another week and found himself wandering the land on the days he didn't have to report to Gringotts. He always ended up in the meadow amongst the flowers that were now dropping their petals and throwing seeds into the wind.
By the time Saturday had come around, Bill thought he was ready to leave. He knew Hermione knew that he was considering it, so when he told her, she wasn't surprised. He asked if they could spend the day together, in the meadow. Before he left on Sunday morning.
Hermione obliged and they carried some wine, cheese, and charcuterie. Hermione was gleeful at the idea, enjoying the last of the flowers before they disappeared, with snacks she rarely got to share and enjoy with anyone. A real picnic.
Walking past the pond, Bill felt a pang in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar type of sadness. When they got to the field and Hermione conjured the picnic blanket and they laid the snacks all down, Bill turned to look at her. He grasped her cheek in his hand and looked at her. Hermione was startled at first and then saw the sadness in his face, building in his eyes.
"Fuck Bill. It's fine. You'll be fine." Hermione said, touching his chest. "We'll still be friends."
Bill leaned in to kiss her. The sun warmed their bodies, his eyelids shone red when he closed them. He fumbled with her blouse, his hands shook with nerves; that surprised him. Hermione leaned back into the blanket and she unbuckled his belt. The wind danced across the sweat on their bodies in cool little breaths.
The clothes lay bunches next to them as Bill lay on top of Hermione, her chest was rising quickly, her breasts pressing against his bare chest.
He cupped her breast and glided his hand on the soft surface of her skin. He put his mouth to her nipple and squeezed gently with his teeth before flicking his tongue across it, and it hardened and Hermione arched her back.
Bill moved his hand over Hermione's smooth skin to her clit. He rubbed it with his thumb before finding the inside of her wet and inserted his fingers. Hermione parted her legs and arched her back, moaning into his mouth.
"Come on, William." Hermione said with a smile as she nipped his neck. "I want you inside me."
And Bill positioned himself between her and slid his way in. Hermione wrapped her legs around him moving her hips with his. He gripped onto her skin. It felt like velvet on his fingertips. He thrust into her and she gripped onto him tighter with her legs.
He rolled her sideways so that they lay on their sides, facing each other. The grass made rustling sounds around them, shielding them in a short wall of green and flowery tops.
"Night cap? Before we turn in?" she said, and laughed.
