Meep! I apologize for putting that song in the last chapter. I don't know
if it was out in the summer of 97; I was just going through my collection
of song-lyrics, and ended up with that one. Please don' kill me.
Romance moves along in this chapter. I should have taken it slower, but it turns out that I don't have the patience for it. Besides, I wouldn't know what to write. Hopefully you're not too angry with me.
*****'
Hermione sat up with a gasp, staring wildly around her. At first, she didn't recognize her surroundings at all, feeling completely bewildered. But then she remembered that she was in Italy with Bill Weasley, who was sleeping in his own bed on the other side of the room. She lay down again, and tried to calm down, which wasn't easy with Bill still in the room, sleeping peacefully.
Three weeks had passed since she'd broken down and cried in his arms. Three weeks of confused dreams, frenzied research, and frequent trips to the bookshop. Three weeks and they were not much closer to finding a counter spell than they had been when they first came here.
She sighed and closed her eyes again. It was too early to worry about the research, but she couldn't sleep, so she concentrated on her second problem. Ever since she'd broken down, and Bill had comforted her, she'd been having dreams. Dreams of Bill, to be exact.
She'd woken up more than once, escaping from the clutches of a dream, replaying the scene that had occurred three weeks ago. She pulled the blanket over her head, and made a miserable sound. She didn't want to like Bill that way; not when he was her working partner. She wasn't sure she wanted to like Bill that way ever. And it had gone so fast!
Three weeks and there was already a bloody, take-no-prisoners, stab-them-in- the-back battle between her will to continue researching, thus solving the spell, and walking over to him and snog him senseless. She stifled a groan; this was definitely not the plan. Her plan had been to go to Italy, work with Bill and solve a spell, then go home again and spend the rest of her summer with her family. It had not involved breaking down crying, dreaming of her best friend's brother and definitely not falling for him.
"Bloody hopeless." She muttered to herself as she hid her face in the pillow.
"Whassat?" Bill mumbled sleepily, lifting his head off the pillow.
"Nothing, go back to sleep." She ordered, not moving.
"Alright." He mumbled, head falling back down with a thump.
Hermione watched him sleep, her mind buzzing too much to follow his example. She smiled; he was cute when he slept, even though his hair looked like a haystack. She didn't mind, though. *You've got it bad, girl*, she thought, and continued to watch him silently.
*****'
Bill, however, wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He was, in fact, wide awake. He had woken up when Hermione sat up in her bed, and now he had a hard time falling asleep again. He was alarmingly aware of Hermione's eyes on him, and had to fight down a blush.
Ever since that day when she'd broken down and cried, she seemed to be watching him a lot more than usual. He didn't mind, but it was odd to say the least. Not bad odd, not at all, but it was a little strange to turn around and find your little brother's best friend staring at you before she realized it and turned away. Not that Ron and Hermione were much of friends lately.
His eyes shot open, but he didn't dare move or even breathe, when he heard her mutter to herself. A mutter that sounded suspiciously like ´You've got it bad, girl´. What did she mean? She couldn't be talking about him, could she? No, that'd be ridiculous. Someone as smart and beautiful as Hermione could get anyone she wanted, so why should she be talking about him?
Wait, he hadn't just called her beautiful, had he? Damn; he had. *Snap out of it!* He told himself, *you're twenty-six, and she's what? Seventeen? And she's Ron's best friend. A best friend he happens to be crushing on, so don't even go there.* Oh, no; talking to ones self is the first sign of madness.
Well, he had to be mad, hadn't he? Even thinking about her that way was bad, having to come up with excuses to prevent himself from doing so was even worse. Biting back a frustrated groan, he buried his face deeper in the pillow and tried to ignore the thoughts buzzing around his head.
Three hours later, he finally gave up and sat up in his bed, startling Hermione who was still awake. He yawned hugely and with a wink at her, he got up and walked out the door. He couldn't stand being in the same room as her right now; he had way too much on his mind, and too much of it concerned her.
*****'
She didn't realize how long she'd been staring at Bill until he got up and walked out, but not before winking at her. Blinking confusedly, she got up too and started digging though her trunk for clean clothes.
Five minutes later, she was at the bottom of the trunk, and still hadn't found more than a clean shirt. Socks, trousers and underwear were still on the wanted list. All she found at the bottom of the trunk was the letter from Dumbledore she'd gotten the day before they went to Italy; a written permission to use magic on the holidays, provided that she didn't misuse it in any way. She had her suspicions that he knew about her little trip to Italy.
But the fact remained; she had no clean clothes. It looked like today was going to be a laundry day. She sighed and walked out of the bedroom to find Bill; she might as well tell him it would be a while before she could resume researching.
*****'
Bill was just finished shaving when Hermione knocked on the bathroom door. He was washing his hands, and didn't bother turning around.
"What is it?" He called.
"I've got no clean clothes left, so I'll have to do some laundry before working today. Is that alright?" She called back through the still closed door.
"Sure." He said, opening the door to reveal a sleepy looking Hermione. "I have to go meet some Gringotts representatives. They've been pestering me about why I've taken on an assistant when I've always protested to it before." He finished, rolling his eyes.
"Mhm. Mind if I take over the bathroom?" She asked, not really listening.
"Sure. Have fun today." He grinned.
"Right. You might want to brush your hair before you go. It looks like a haystack." She pointed out before walking past him.
"Hey, it's too early in the morning for insults!" He protested.
"Who said it was an insult?" She smiled, still half-asleep, by the look of it, "I think it's cute."
She disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, leaving Bill standing there looking like a dead fish. She'd just called him cute. For no reason. Thank the gods she had shut the door, or she'd see him blushing like a traffic light.
Better stop that thought before it got any further. He disappeared out the door and down the stairs.
*****'
Hermione leaned against the bathroom door, blushing furiously. She hadn't just said that, had she? No, wait, she had. Hopefully, he hadn't been paying attention. Yes, that was always something to wish for. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the door and started brushing her teeth.
When she was done, she went out in the living room. Grabbing her wand and her clothes from the bedroom, she stopped for a moment, trying to remember the Cleaning Charm. A grin spread over her face when she did, and she was just about to start using it when she remembered that she was still wearing her dirty clothes from yesterday. Quickly, she changed into the only clean shirt, and since Bill wasn't going to be back in a few hours, she didn't bother finding a pair of pants. Thankfully, the shirt went down to mid- thigh.
Almost as an afterthought, she popped a CD in the newly transfigured stereo and pushed play. She liked having music when she worked. She'd borrowed one of her dad's old favourites, and whistled along with ´Rocking All Over The World´ by Status Quo as she waved her wand.
*****'
Bill returned to the Swan and Dragon only twenty minutes later. The Gringotts representatives had only been wasting his time, time that could have been spent on important research, or better yet, on finding a way to live with Hermione for the reminder of the assignment without jumping her and snogging her senseless.
He slapped himself mentally, and followed up with a mental kick or two afterwards. It was not good to think of Hermione that way; it would only turn out badly. Like his attempt at a relationship with Fleur Delacour. It had gone well for two months; until he found out she was cheating on him with some other man, or rather, walked in on them. Needless to say, he had been angry and miserable for weeks, before vowing to himself that he'd never do the same mistake again.
He'd decided to not enter a relationship or even think about a woman that way until he was sure he wanted to settle down for life. Shaking off the gloomy flashbacks, he opened the door to their rooms. He was going through the paperwork he'd been given, and only looked up after he'd shut the door.
And promptly dropped his jaw.
Hermione was standing over a heap of her clothes, waving her wand, muttering incantations under her breath, wearing nothing but a T-shirt. Thankfully, for Bill's sanity, it reached mid-thigh. Unfortunately, once again for Bill's sanity, it reached mid-thigh. A win-win situation, depending on your point of view, of course. From the point of view of Bill's sanity, it was a lose-lose situation. Not that the rest of Bill was complaining.
He stood frozen at the door, jaw somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, staring at Hermione with the paperwork still clutched in his hand. He watched, horror-struck, as Hermione slowly turned around, apparently whistling along with the music, and saw him standing there.
She gave a sound that could only be spelled ´meep´ and turned crimson. Without saying anything, she grabbed her clothing and ran into the bedroom, leaving him standing there, shell-shocked.
His vision was clouding, and he remembered he had to breathe. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried his hardest to drive the sight of Hermione in only a T-shirt as far from his mind as possible.
It should be illegal for anyone to look that good. Definitely if that ´anyone´ was Hermione Granger, seventeen and not-yet-seventh-year, and Hogwarts resident bookworm. Where the hell had she hid that body? Better question; where did she get it?
No. Not a good thing to think about. His sanity was in enough danger as it was. Concentrate on other things. Like the research. It's going great, thanks to Hermione. Oh no, there he went again. Alright, Gringotts then. Annoying people who bugged him about his apprentice; it wasn't any of their bloody business who he hired to help him, and if they ever met Hermione, they'd probably fall over in shock of how smart she was. Damn, it wasn't working!
"There goes that decision." He whispered to himself, staring blankly at the papers in his hand.
****'
She lay on her bed with the covers over her head, whimpering to herself. How could she have been so stupid? She was a Muggleborn, she knew about Murphy's Law, so why had she been stupid enough to do what she had? Maybe living with wizards for so long had dulled her mind, or something. Maybe Fred and George had slipped something in her food the last day at Hogwarts, making her act like a complete idiot. Hell, maybe she was a complete idiot.
Either way, she'd just let Bill see her half-naked. Which was probably one of the most embarrassing experiences in her whole damn life. How was she ever going to look him in the eye without blushing? She had a hard time looking at him without turning red before. Now she would probably experience the infamous ´Weasley-blush´ every time he was in the room.
He was probably laughing at her right now. He probably thought of her as a silly little schoolgirl anyway. But she'd show him, she'd show everyone, that she was good enough for this. She'd find the counter curse, no matter how long it took.
She grabbed the biography, which she still hadn't finished on the account of it being one of the thickest books she'd ever read, and started reading. Tomas Larsson had gathered all his research in his biography, which according to her was a bloody stupid thing to do, considering that the book might end up in anyone's hands.
She opened the book at random, being too bored to look up the place she'd last stopped reading, and started scanning the pages. She didn't know how long she'd been reading when she turned the page and halfway down; she stopped, and re-read the passage once more.
" - The Borealis Curse should not be cast irresponsibly, because it is one of the most powerful curses in existence. Should it ever be misused, there is one way to break it. I will write it down here, so that anyone who reads this will be able to amend his mistakes." She read out loud.
"To break the curse, one drop of blood must be spilled on the item on which it is placed, and the reverse of the incantation must be said. After this, a blinding light will show. When it fades, the curse is gone." She finished the passage.
"I found the counter curse." She whispered in awe.
She jumped up and was about to run out in the living room when she realized that she was still wearing only a T-shirt. Quickly, she threw on some clothes and ran out the door. If she smiled any wider, her face would crack. Well out in the living room, she halted suddenly, bewildered.
Bill wasn't there. The bathroom door stood open, and the bathroom was empty. Bill wasn't there.
She looked around her wildly, and then stormed out the door and down the stairs. The Tom-look-alike was wiping off the bar, and looked at her curiously. She didn't bother saying anything; she was too concentrated on whether or not Bill was there. He wasn't.
Through the windows she could see that the sun had already set; she must have been reading for longer than she thought. Unaware that she was only dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, she ran out the door, looking for Bill. She had to find him.
*****'
Shortly after he had broken out of his reverie, Bill walked out the door. He didn't want to deal with Hermione right now, as she was probably just as embarrassed as he was about the whole thing, and he needed some time to think as well. He grabbed a coat before heading out from the Swan and Dragon, and unfortunately forgot to leave a note to Hermione.
He quickly walked over to the other end of Fiddler's Fair, far away from the Inn, and found a bar. There, he sat down at a table, and ordered a Fire Whiskey. He definitely needed to get drunk out of his mind right now. Thinking was not an option he liked. He knocked back the Fire Whiskey, and quickly ordered another.
"Bill? Iz that you?" A voice, heavy with a French accent asked.
His head shot up, and he stared into the eyes of Fleur Delacour, standing in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. He stared down at his glass, wondering if he was hallucinating or not, but that dream was broken by Fleur, who sat down across from him and leaned over the table.
"Bill, it haz been zo long zince we saw each otherrr, I haf missed you zo much." She spoke quickly, looking deeply into his eyes. "Please, Bill, it waz a mistake, I waz drunk. Please I do not want us to be apart anymore." She pleaded.
Bill just stared at her in disgust. How could she even think that he'd let her back into his life when she'd done what she did? He drained the second glass, and called for a third. When angry, some people scream and shout and hit other people. Bill just went very, very still, almost wooden
"You're a cheating bitch, Fleur, but you're not an idiot, I'll grant you that. So how can you think I'm even going to look at your face again?" He asked quietly.
Fleur flinched, but reached over and put her hand over his. Bill looked at it stonily, hand twitching a little.
"Bill, we all make mistakes. Please forgive me for ziz one. I promise it will never happen again." She continued, starting to look desperate. "I want us to be togetherrr. We werrre meant to be togetherrr."
Bill gave a short, sharp laugh. She was really something, pleading him to take her back, using so many clichés in one sentence that he was surprised she made it through without laughing at herself.
"Cut the crap, Fleur. What happened? Your little boyfriend dumped you? Knocked you up and left you? Well, if you think I'll take you back and forgive you, trust me, you can't be more wrong." He said cynically. "Now fuck off, I'm getting drunk."
Fleur stared at him, but then drew her hand back and stood up, glaring at him.
"You arre making a mistake, Bill." She informed him coldly.
He didn't even look up as she stormed out the door and into the busy street. He called for a fourth whiskey, intent on getting pissed out of his mind.
*****'
She had been everywhere; the university, where she'd had to avoid Robert the best she could, The café they ate breakfast at, Corwith's bookshop, and she still hadn't found him. She'd wandered through most of Fiddler's Fair, asking people if they'd seen him, but hadn't received a single positive answer. She was starting to despair as the dark sky grew even darker.
Giving up all hopes of finding him, she sank down on the pavement, looked around her for a moment, and then began to cry. It began to rain, but she was too absorbed in her own misery to even notice.
*****'
Bill stumbled out of the bar, blinking owlishly. He had been steadily drinking for the last hours, not noticing that darkness fell, and had decided it was time to go back. He kept a small vial of Sobering Potion with him at all times, but right now it seemed like a good idea to be drunk, so he kept it in his pocket.
He was halfway back to the Swan and Dragon when he stumbled over a small form sitting on the pavement. He peered down at it, noticing the T-shirt and the decided lack of coat, and suddenly recognized the mass of brown hair, identifying it as Hermione.
He blinked stupidly for a moment, before putting his hand in his pocket and coming up with the potions. Drinking it up, he shuddered a little.
"I'll never get used to that." He mumbled, and knelt beside Hermione.
She was asleep, lying on the wet pavement with her arms wrapped around her, soaked to the skin. Wondering why the hell she was out in the rain, wearing only a T-shirt, he put an arm around her and pulled her up in a sitting position. She squirmed, but didn't wake up. Sighing, he put his other arm under her legs, and lifted her up.
She unconsciously buried her face in the crook of his neck, making him vow to take a cold shower as soon as they got back, and continued sleeping. He set off towards the Inn, keeping his head down and Hermione sheltered as much as possible from the rain.
*****'
Hermione was dreaming. She was dreaming of the first time she saw Bill, the summer before fourth year, at the Burrow. They were all standing out in the back yard, watching as Bill and Charlie knocked the flying tables together. They were laughing so hard, they were nearly crying.
She smiled in her sleep, remembering how much she wanted to laugh too, but she didn't dare. She'd wanted to go wrap both of the older Weasley brothers in a hug, and laugh along with them, but she hadn't because Ron and Harry would make a big deal of it.
She drifted off into dreamless sleep with the memory of Bill's laughter ringing in her head.
*****'
When he came to the Inn, everyone was asleep except him. He climbed the stairs to their room, and opened it. He walked into the bedroom, setting Hermione down on her bed, straightened up, and stared at her.
Obviously, he'd need to take her clothes off, or she'd get sick. She'd get sick anyway, but it would be worse if she kept her wet clothes on. So, task number one was to change her clothes. Now, how did he go about that without loosing the last shreds of sanity he was desperately clinging to? Well, he'd just have to grit his teeth and do it. He was a grown man, after all.
He'd gotten stuck with taking care of Ginny enough times when he was younger; why should this be any different? Oh, right, now he remembered; he wasn't head over heels in love with Ginny. He froze in the middle of the process of taking off Hermione's socks. He hadn't just thought that, had he?
Nope, no luck this time; he had. Well, that was horrible and terrifying, but now that he'd gotten it over with, he might as well get on with his work. He pulled off her socks, and stopped again. The socks were the easy part.
He swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a moment and then proceeded to take her clothes of as quickly as possible, trying not to stare too much. He wrapped her in a blanket, and put her under the covers. When he was done, he took a step back and stared at her again. He was surprised she hadn't woken up yet. Maybe she was just extremely tired.
She was still shivering, even though she was dry now and the room was warm. Apparently that wasn't enough, so he racked his brain for other ways to get her warm. He'd taken Muggle Studies for fifth and sixth year, before dropping it in seventh year, and during those two years they'd had a survival class, teaching them how to survive in the wild without magic. There had been something about keeping others warm in case they got sick. Now all he had to do was remember what it was.
When he did, he blushed so hard it was almost painful. He remembered the teacher telling them that the best way to keep someone warm was with body heat. Meaning he'd have to sleep in the same bed as Hermione if he didn't want her to get sick.
Still blushing furiously, he pulled off his coat, shoes and socks, and crawled into bed next to the shivering girl, wrapping his arms around her, trying not to think about the fact that she was only wearing her underwear. Pretty soon, he was asleep, snoring softly.
Too bad he hadn't remembered that he was long since out of Hogwarts and allowed to do magic over summer, or he would have remembered that he knew a perfectly adequate Heating Charm he could have used. Then again, maybe it wasn't that bad.
*******'
Ending Notes: *sniggers* Y'all going to love me for that one, eh? Hope you liked it. I apologize for Fleur's accent; it was horrible, but I couldn't write it any better. I know Hermione sleeping through the whole thing is unbelievable, but it didn't work any other way.
Romance moves along in this chapter. I should have taken it slower, but it turns out that I don't have the patience for it. Besides, I wouldn't know what to write. Hopefully you're not too angry with me.
*****'
Hermione sat up with a gasp, staring wildly around her. At first, she didn't recognize her surroundings at all, feeling completely bewildered. But then she remembered that she was in Italy with Bill Weasley, who was sleeping in his own bed on the other side of the room. She lay down again, and tried to calm down, which wasn't easy with Bill still in the room, sleeping peacefully.
Three weeks had passed since she'd broken down and cried in his arms. Three weeks of confused dreams, frenzied research, and frequent trips to the bookshop. Three weeks and they were not much closer to finding a counter spell than they had been when they first came here.
She sighed and closed her eyes again. It was too early to worry about the research, but she couldn't sleep, so she concentrated on her second problem. Ever since she'd broken down, and Bill had comforted her, she'd been having dreams. Dreams of Bill, to be exact.
She'd woken up more than once, escaping from the clutches of a dream, replaying the scene that had occurred three weeks ago. She pulled the blanket over her head, and made a miserable sound. She didn't want to like Bill that way; not when he was her working partner. She wasn't sure she wanted to like Bill that way ever. And it had gone so fast!
Three weeks and there was already a bloody, take-no-prisoners, stab-them-in- the-back battle between her will to continue researching, thus solving the spell, and walking over to him and snog him senseless. She stifled a groan; this was definitely not the plan. Her plan had been to go to Italy, work with Bill and solve a spell, then go home again and spend the rest of her summer with her family. It had not involved breaking down crying, dreaming of her best friend's brother and definitely not falling for him.
"Bloody hopeless." She muttered to herself as she hid her face in the pillow.
"Whassat?" Bill mumbled sleepily, lifting his head off the pillow.
"Nothing, go back to sleep." She ordered, not moving.
"Alright." He mumbled, head falling back down with a thump.
Hermione watched him sleep, her mind buzzing too much to follow his example. She smiled; he was cute when he slept, even though his hair looked like a haystack. She didn't mind, though. *You've got it bad, girl*, she thought, and continued to watch him silently.
*****'
Bill, however, wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He was, in fact, wide awake. He had woken up when Hermione sat up in her bed, and now he had a hard time falling asleep again. He was alarmingly aware of Hermione's eyes on him, and had to fight down a blush.
Ever since that day when she'd broken down and cried, she seemed to be watching him a lot more than usual. He didn't mind, but it was odd to say the least. Not bad odd, not at all, but it was a little strange to turn around and find your little brother's best friend staring at you before she realized it and turned away. Not that Ron and Hermione were much of friends lately.
His eyes shot open, but he didn't dare move or even breathe, when he heard her mutter to herself. A mutter that sounded suspiciously like ´You've got it bad, girl´. What did she mean? She couldn't be talking about him, could she? No, that'd be ridiculous. Someone as smart and beautiful as Hermione could get anyone she wanted, so why should she be talking about him?
Wait, he hadn't just called her beautiful, had he? Damn; he had. *Snap out of it!* He told himself, *you're twenty-six, and she's what? Seventeen? And she's Ron's best friend. A best friend he happens to be crushing on, so don't even go there.* Oh, no; talking to ones self is the first sign of madness.
Well, he had to be mad, hadn't he? Even thinking about her that way was bad, having to come up with excuses to prevent himself from doing so was even worse. Biting back a frustrated groan, he buried his face deeper in the pillow and tried to ignore the thoughts buzzing around his head.
Three hours later, he finally gave up and sat up in his bed, startling Hermione who was still awake. He yawned hugely and with a wink at her, he got up and walked out the door. He couldn't stand being in the same room as her right now; he had way too much on his mind, and too much of it concerned her.
*****'
She didn't realize how long she'd been staring at Bill until he got up and walked out, but not before winking at her. Blinking confusedly, she got up too and started digging though her trunk for clean clothes.
Five minutes later, she was at the bottom of the trunk, and still hadn't found more than a clean shirt. Socks, trousers and underwear were still on the wanted list. All she found at the bottom of the trunk was the letter from Dumbledore she'd gotten the day before they went to Italy; a written permission to use magic on the holidays, provided that she didn't misuse it in any way. She had her suspicions that he knew about her little trip to Italy.
But the fact remained; she had no clean clothes. It looked like today was going to be a laundry day. She sighed and walked out of the bedroom to find Bill; she might as well tell him it would be a while before she could resume researching.
*****'
Bill was just finished shaving when Hermione knocked on the bathroom door. He was washing his hands, and didn't bother turning around.
"What is it?" He called.
"I've got no clean clothes left, so I'll have to do some laundry before working today. Is that alright?" She called back through the still closed door.
"Sure." He said, opening the door to reveal a sleepy looking Hermione. "I have to go meet some Gringotts representatives. They've been pestering me about why I've taken on an assistant when I've always protested to it before." He finished, rolling his eyes.
"Mhm. Mind if I take over the bathroom?" She asked, not really listening.
"Sure. Have fun today." He grinned.
"Right. You might want to brush your hair before you go. It looks like a haystack." She pointed out before walking past him.
"Hey, it's too early in the morning for insults!" He protested.
"Who said it was an insult?" She smiled, still half-asleep, by the look of it, "I think it's cute."
She disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her, leaving Bill standing there looking like a dead fish. She'd just called him cute. For no reason. Thank the gods she had shut the door, or she'd see him blushing like a traffic light.
Better stop that thought before it got any further. He disappeared out the door and down the stairs.
*****'
Hermione leaned against the bathroom door, blushing furiously. She hadn't just said that, had she? No, wait, she had. Hopefully, he hadn't been paying attention. Yes, that was always something to wish for. With a sigh, she pushed herself off the door and started brushing her teeth.
When she was done, she went out in the living room. Grabbing her wand and her clothes from the bedroom, she stopped for a moment, trying to remember the Cleaning Charm. A grin spread over her face when she did, and she was just about to start using it when she remembered that she was still wearing her dirty clothes from yesterday. Quickly, she changed into the only clean shirt, and since Bill wasn't going to be back in a few hours, she didn't bother finding a pair of pants. Thankfully, the shirt went down to mid- thigh.
Almost as an afterthought, she popped a CD in the newly transfigured stereo and pushed play. She liked having music when she worked. She'd borrowed one of her dad's old favourites, and whistled along with ´Rocking All Over The World´ by Status Quo as she waved her wand.
*****'
Bill returned to the Swan and Dragon only twenty minutes later. The Gringotts representatives had only been wasting his time, time that could have been spent on important research, or better yet, on finding a way to live with Hermione for the reminder of the assignment without jumping her and snogging her senseless.
He slapped himself mentally, and followed up with a mental kick or two afterwards. It was not good to think of Hermione that way; it would only turn out badly. Like his attempt at a relationship with Fleur Delacour. It had gone well for two months; until he found out she was cheating on him with some other man, or rather, walked in on them. Needless to say, he had been angry and miserable for weeks, before vowing to himself that he'd never do the same mistake again.
He'd decided to not enter a relationship or even think about a woman that way until he was sure he wanted to settle down for life. Shaking off the gloomy flashbacks, he opened the door to their rooms. He was going through the paperwork he'd been given, and only looked up after he'd shut the door.
And promptly dropped his jaw.
Hermione was standing over a heap of her clothes, waving her wand, muttering incantations under her breath, wearing nothing but a T-shirt. Thankfully, for Bill's sanity, it reached mid-thigh. Unfortunately, once again for Bill's sanity, it reached mid-thigh. A win-win situation, depending on your point of view, of course. From the point of view of Bill's sanity, it was a lose-lose situation. Not that the rest of Bill was complaining.
He stood frozen at the door, jaw somewhere in the vicinity of his knees, staring at Hermione with the paperwork still clutched in his hand. He watched, horror-struck, as Hermione slowly turned around, apparently whistling along with the music, and saw him standing there.
She gave a sound that could only be spelled ´meep´ and turned crimson. Without saying anything, she grabbed her clothing and ran into the bedroom, leaving him standing there, shell-shocked.
His vision was clouding, and he remembered he had to breathe. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and tried his hardest to drive the sight of Hermione in only a T-shirt as far from his mind as possible.
It should be illegal for anyone to look that good. Definitely if that ´anyone´ was Hermione Granger, seventeen and not-yet-seventh-year, and Hogwarts resident bookworm. Where the hell had she hid that body? Better question; where did she get it?
No. Not a good thing to think about. His sanity was in enough danger as it was. Concentrate on other things. Like the research. It's going great, thanks to Hermione. Oh no, there he went again. Alright, Gringotts then. Annoying people who bugged him about his apprentice; it wasn't any of their bloody business who he hired to help him, and if they ever met Hermione, they'd probably fall over in shock of how smart she was. Damn, it wasn't working!
"There goes that decision." He whispered to himself, staring blankly at the papers in his hand.
****'
She lay on her bed with the covers over her head, whimpering to herself. How could she have been so stupid? She was a Muggleborn, she knew about Murphy's Law, so why had she been stupid enough to do what she had? Maybe living with wizards for so long had dulled her mind, or something. Maybe Fred and George had slipped something in her food the last day at Hogwarts, making her act like a complete idiot. Hell, maybe she was a complete idiot.
Either way, she'd just let Bill see her half-naked. Which was probably one of the most embarrassing experiences in her whole damn life. How was she ever going to look him in the eye without blushing? She had a hard time looking at him without turning red before. Now she would probably experience the infamous ´Weasley-blush´ every time he was in the room.
He was probably laughing at her right now. He probably thought of her as a silly little schoolgirl anyway. But she'd show him, she'd show everyone, that she was good enough for this. She'd find the counter curse, no matter how long it took.
She grabbed the biography, which she still hadn't finished on the account of it being one of the thickest books she'd ever read, and started reading. Tomas Larsson had gathered all his research in his biography, which according to her was a bloody stupid thing to do, considering that the book might end up in anyone's hands.
She opened the book at random, being too bored to look up the place she'd last stopped reading, and started scanning the pages. She didn't know how long she'd been reading when she turned the page and halfway down; she stopped, and re-read the passage once more.
" - The Borealis Curse should not be cast irresponsibly, because it is one of the most powerful curses in existence. Should it ever be misused, there is one way to break it. I will write it down here, so that anyone who reads this will be able to amend his mistakes." She read out loud.
"To break the curse, one drop of blood must be spilled on the item on which it is placed, and the reverse of the incantation must be said. After this, a blinding light will show. When it fades, the curse is gone." She finished the passage.
"I found the counter curse." She whispered in awe.
She jumped up and was about to run out in the living room when she realized that she was still wearing only a T-shirt. Quickly, she threw on some clothes and ran out the door. If she smiled any wider, her face would crack. Well out in the living room, she halted suddenly, bewildered.
Bill wasn't there. The bathroom door stood open, and the bathroom was empty. Bill wasn't there.
She looked around her wildly, and then stormed out the door and down the stairs. The Tom-look-alike was wiping off the bar, and looked at her curiously. She didn't bother saying anything; she was too concentrated on whether or not Bill was there. He wasn't.
Through the windows she could see that the sun had already set; she must have been reading for longer than she thought. Unaware that she was only dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, she ran out the door, looking for Bill. She had to find him.
*****'
Shortly after he had broken out of his reverie, Bill walked out the door. He didn't want to deal with Hermione right now, as she was probably just as embarrassed as he was about the whole thing, and he needed some time to think as well. He grabbed a coat before heading out from the Swan and Dragon, and unfortunately forgot to leave a note to Hermione.
He quickly walked over to the other end of Fiddler's Fair, far away from the Inn, and found a bar. There, he sat down at a table, and ordered a Fire Whiskey. He definitely needed to get drunk out of his mind right now. Thinking was not an option he liked. He knocked back the Fire Whiskey, and quickly ordered another.
"Bill? Iz that you?" A voice, heavy with a French accent asked.
His head shot up, and he stared into the eyes of Fleur Delacour, standing in front of him, looking as beautiful as ever. He stared down at his glass, wondering if he was hallucinating or not, but that dream was broken by Fleur, who sat down across from him and leaned over the table.
"Bill, it haz been zo long zince we saw each otherrr, I haf missed you zo much." She spoke quickly, looking deeply into his eyes. "Please, Bill, it waz a mistake, I waz drunk. Please I do not want us to be apart anymore." She pleaded.
Bill just stared at her in disgust. How could she even think that he'd let her back into his life when she'd done what she did? He drained the second glass, and called for a third. When angry, some people scream and shout and hit other people. Bill just went very, very still, almost wooden
"You're a cheating bitch, Fleur, but you're not an idiot, I'll grant you that. So how can you think I'm even going to look at your face again?" He asked quietly.
Fleur flinched, but reached over and put her hand over his. Bill looked at it stonily, hand twitching a little.
"Bill, we all make mistakes. Please forgive me for ziz one. I promise it will never happen again." She continued, starting to look desperate. "I want us to be togetherrr. We werrre meant to be togetherrr."
Bill gave a short, sharp laugh. She was really something, pleading him to take her back, using so many clichés in one sentence that he was surprised she made it through without laughing at herself.
"Cut the crap, Fleur. What happened? Your little boyfriend dumped you? Knocked you up and left you? Well, if you think I'll take you back and forgive you, trust me, you can't be more wrong." He said cynically. "Now fuck off, I'm getting drunk."
Fleur stared at him, but then drew her hand back and stood up, glaring at him.
"You arre making a mistake, Bill." She informed him coldly.
He didn't even look up as she stormed out the door and into the busy street. He called for a fourth whiskey, intent on getting pissed out of his mind.
*****'
She had been everywhere; the university, where she'd had to avoid Robert the best she could, The café they ate breakfast at, Corwith's bookshop, and she still hadn't found him. She'd wandered through most of Fiddler's Fair, asking people if they'd seen him, but hadn't received a single positive answer. She was starting to despair as the dark sky grew even darker.
Giving up all hopes of finding him, she sank down on the pavement, looked around her for a moment, and then began to cry. It began to rain, but she was too absorbed in her own misery to even notice.
*****'
Bill stumbled out of the bar, blinking owlishly. He had been steadily drinking for the last hours, not noticing that darkness fell, and had decided it was time to go back. He kept a small vial of Sobering Potion with him at all times, but right now it seemed like a good idea to be drunk, so he kept it in his pocket.
He was halfway back to the Swan and Dragon when he stumbled over a small form sitting on the pavement. He peered down at it, noticing the T-shirt and the decided lack of coat, and suddenly recognized the mass of brown hair, identifying it as Hermione.
He blinked stupidly for a moment, before putting his hand in his pocket and coming up with the potions. Drinking it up, he shuddered a little.
"I'll never get used to that." He mumbled, and knelt beside Hermione.
She was asleep, lying on the wet pavement with her arms wrapped around her, soaked to the skin. Wondering why the hell she was out in the rain, wearing only a T-shirt, he put an arm around her and pulled her up in a sitting position. She squirmed, but didn't wake up. Sighing, he put his other arm under her legs, and lifted her up.
She unconsciously buried her face in the crook of his neck, making him vow to take a cold shower as soon as they got back, and continued sleeping. He set off towards the Inn, keeping his head down and Hermione sheltered as much as possible from the rain.
*****'
Hermione was dreaming. She was dreaming of the first time she saw Bill, the summer before fourth year, at the Burrow. They were all standing out in the back yard, watching as Bill and Charlie knocked the flying tables together. They were laughing so hard, they were nearly crying.
She smiled in her sleep, remembering how much she wanted to laugh too, but she didn't dare. She'd wanted to go wrap both of the older Weasley brothers in a hug, and laugh along with them, but she hadn't because Ron and Harry would make a big deal of it.
She drifted off into dreamless sleep with the memory of Bill's laughter ringing in her head.
*****'
When he came to the Inn, everyone was asleep except him. He climbed the stairs to their room, and opened it. He walked into the bedroom, setting Hermione down on her bed, straightened up, and stared at her.
Obviously, he'd need to take her clothes off, or she'd get sick. She'd get sick anyway, but it would be worse if she kept her wet clothes on. So, task number one was to change her clothes. Now, how did he go about that without loosing the last shreds of sanity he was desperately clinging to? Well, he'd just have to grit his teeth and do it. He was a grown man, after all.
He'd gotten stuck with taking care of Ginny enough times when he was younger; why should this be any different? Oh, right, now he remembered; he wasn't head over heels in love with Ginny. He froze in the middle of the process of taking off Hermione's socks. He hadn't just thought that, had he?
Nope, no luck this time; he had. Well, that was horrible and terrifying, but now that he'd gotten it over with, he might as well get on with his work. He pulled off her socks, and stopped again. The socks were the easy part.
He swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a moment and then proceeded to take her clothes of as quickly as possible, trying not to stare too much. He wrapped her in a blanket, and put her under the covers. When he was done, he took a step back and stared at her again. He was surprised she hadn't woken up yet. Maybe she was just extremely tired.
She was still shivering, even though she was dry now and the room was warm. Apparently that wasn't enough, so he racked his brain for other ways to get her warm. He'd taken Muggle Studies for fifth and sixth year, before dropping it in seventh year, and during those two years they'd had a survival class, teaching them how to survive in the wild without magic. There had been something about keeping others warm in case they got sick. Now all he had to do was remember what it was.
When he did, he blushed so hard it was almost painful. He remembered the teacher telling them that the best way to keep someone warm was with body heat. Meaning he'd have to sleep in the same bed as Hermione if he didn't want her to get sick.
Still blushing furiously, he pulled off his coat, shoes and socks, and crawled into bed next to the shivering girl, wrapping his arms around her, trying not to think about the fact that she was only wearing her underwear. Pretty soon, he was asleep, snoring softly.
Too bad he hadn't remembered that he was long since out of Hogwarts and allowed to do magic over summer, or he would have remembered that he knew a perfectly adequate Heating Charm he could have used. Then again, maybe it wasn't that bad.
*******'
Ending Notes: *sniggers* Y'all going to love me for that one, eh? Hope you liked it. I apologize for Fleur's accent; it was horrible, but I couldn't write it any better. I know Hermione sleeping through the whole thing is unbelievable, but it didn't work any other way.