Chapter 22

"Now you're going to be good and listen to me aren't you," Bill's voice was deceptively mild, a stark contrast to the rest of his demeanor. He didn't bother waiting for a response before continuing, "Now I'm going to release your silencing charm, and you're not going to utter a single peep." He did so, well aware it sounded like he was talking to an errant dog. There was a spark of fire in her eyes that told him she noticed it too, despite how quickly she quelled it. "Now I'm going to let you go and you're going to sit up, and do nothing else." Again she wordlessly obliged.

"Very good, good girl," he once again gave her a taste of her own medicine, determined to drive home his point. He skillfully pushed away all feelings when he saw her flinch as he reached up a hand to rest atop her head. He watched shock register clearly on her face on everything he'd just drained from her slowly leaked back into her. His orders were briefly disregarded when she gasped when he didn't withdraw his hand after returning it all. Instead he gently and quickly healed her little bumps and bruises.

"I'm not a monster Hermione," he felt compelled to murmur. "Now," his upbeat tone finally matched his lightened demeanor, "I'm going to make us some dinner." He reached out a hand, which she hesitantly accepted, and helped her up. "Just consider it part one of my apology." He walked away toward the kitchen, waving for her to follow over his shoulder. Slightly confused, Hermione followed him into the gorgeous kitchen. He pulled out one of the high rise chairs at the marble top island and gestured for her to sit. Using a combination of wizard and muggle tactics, he began to prepare simple chicken parmigna with fresh Italian bread and two small Caesar salads. Hermione sat pertly, her ankles crossed to the side and hand resting in her lap in the perfect picture of propriety. She was only mildly surprised to see his cooking ability easily rivaled his sister's, far surpassing the remainder of the male Weasleys. It was almost hypnotizing to watch; he was obviously confident in the kitchen, in more than an eating capacity, and it showed.

"Wine?" He held up a bottle of red wine.

"No, thank you," Hermione finally broke her silence. She tended to react badly to red wines, usually in the form of flushed complexion or, in worse cases droning headaches. Bill replaced the wine and poured two ice cold glasses of water instead. At the same time, he levitated a knife and lemon from the refrigerator, and sliced two wedges to add to the glasses.

"Chicken will be done in about fifteen," he placed one of the glasses in front of her. He noticeably hesitated before sitting. Fortunately her chair was near the edge of the island, so he quickly slid the chair across from her to the side so they were adjacent to each other. Then the background charms send the dishes off to clean themselves while the counters were cleaned as well.

"What time is it?" She suddenly became aware of how long the day had been.

"Around nine-thirty," Bill estimated with a small shrug.

"Oh," Hermione responded noncommittally, her thoughts having turned to how early she should get up the next morning to see Lavender.

"Hermione," Bill's voice and the way her was looking at her subtly hinted that it wasn't the first time he'd called her.

"Huh," her initial response was less than eloquent with her distraction, "sorry, you were saying?"

Bill unconsciously frowned – though he wasn't sure if it was her lack of attention or just that something was stealing her attention from him that irked him, and he was pretty sure he didn't want to find out.

"That's what I was going to say," Bill actually visibly grimaced as though in pain as he mentally bashed his head violently against the wall. "Smooth," the internal, eternally sarcastic voice sounded precisely like Charlie. "I mean," he quickly amended, his voice a little louder and higher than normal, "the sorry."

Hermione stared at him, clearly confused and quite possibly wondering about his sanity. Frazzled, he ran a hand through his hair with more force than intended, successfully snagging his fingers in the tangles created mere seconds before his hair tie broke, snapping it them and his neck. "Ouch, bloody hell!"

"You okay?" Hermione asked, though clearly confused and concerned about his strange behavior.

"Fine," he glared at the offending band on the floor. "What I'm trying to say… been trying to say is that I'm sorry. For being late and… manhandling you."

I don't know why my alarm didn't go off this morning but it was absolutely unacceptable and I promise it'll never happen again. And I can never thank you or Grimbles enough for covering for me and all the work you two did was amazing and beyond anything I could every ask for. I owe you so much; anytime you need anything just say the word."

"Bill," Hermione tried to interject but Bill wouldn't let her.

"And it was so far beyond the line for me to have acted like I did just before, it's…" he hesitated, unable to find a suitable word. "I lost my temper, and I almost never do. I was actually trying to treat you to dinner, but acting like a cave man tends to ruin that kind of stuff…"

"Bill," Hermione finally succeeded in halting his rambling apology, "it's alright, I get your point. Both of them; and, I apologize for my behavior before we left." She alluded to his pointed mimicry of her earlier behavior, tactfully avoiding reference to their means of exit. Her subtle lack of forgiveness didn't go unnoticed. Though not at all unreasonable, Bill was beginning to wonder if he'd ever find a suitable way to apologize and say thank you to her.

"Yes, well I suppose it can be understood. You did have a long day after all," he graciously excused her, suddenly remembering Harry's note. Part of him chastised himself for not listening to the younger man. The other part of him said he'd been set up for sure.

"Yes," Hermione answered simply, knowing there was a difference between being tactful and honest. "Perhaps if I'd known your intentions…" She felt only slightly bad seeing Bill grimaced guiltily preferring to ensure that he understood the importance of communicating.

They were saved from continuing the line of conversation when Bill stood to serve the finished meal. It smelled heavenly and, though simple, the presentation made it look all the more delectable. Silence once again prevailed as they hungrily dug in, too preoccupied with the food to feel awkward by the lack of conversation. It wasn't until they were halfway through the meal that Bill once again spoke first.

"Perhaps tomorrow I could treat you to lunch," he nervously prosed, "as a proper thank you. We could get sushi."

His voice became wheedling in the end as he revealed the ace up his sleeve. It wasn't until Hermione raised her brows questioningly that he realized his mistake of revealing his known trivia. "Ginny's mentioned you like it," he covered a little too slow to be casual and a little too hastily to sound real.

"Thank you, but I'll be busy with Lavender all day tomorrow," Hermione was grateful for the excuse. "as a matter of fact, I should get going." They'd just finished their meals and Hermione quickly latched onto the excuse to eat and run. If Bill found the attempt lacking he didn't let on as he graciously set the dishes to be cleaned while escorting her back to the fireplace. Hermione barely waited long enough to wish one another a good evening before hurrying through the floo back to the safety of the Burrow.