Part One
The Bond That Saved Them
It was still several hours before she was supposed to be there, but Hermione Weasley barely acknowledged the time when she flooed into the Burrow just after nine in the morning on August thirteenth. Though she would never ask for it, Hermione knew Molly would need some assistance in preparing for her youngest child's surprise birthday party, and Hermione was always glad to help, whatever the occasion. With the Weasley children mostly off living their own lives, the house seemed much quieter than it had only a few years earlier, but it made the hours before any gathering ones to cherish, when it was the simple things that mattered.
"Good morning, dear," Molly said without turning around as Hermione entered the kitchen, automatically grabbing an apron from the topmost drawer to the left of the sink. The woman was standing over a large cutting board, waving her wand in furious arcs as a knife shaved a large block of chocolate under her direction. "The eggs are over there, ready to be peeled and sliced, if you could."
"Were you able to get those berries you wanted?" Hermione asked as she delicately began removing the smooth, brown shells from the freshly boiled eggs. Doing it magically always ended with shell pieces in their salad, so she opted for the tedious, but pleasant method.
"Oh yes, Neville was tremendously helpful in that regard. Thank you for the suggestion." As if she needed that reminder, Molly pulled the small red fruits from the icebox and began conducting a second, smaller knife to remove the seeds. "Ginny's going to be so excited. I haven't made this cake since she was six or seven. And now my baby's going to be twenty-four."
"Your 'baby' is soon going to be giving you more grandchildren," said a voice from the doorway. Hermione turned to see Bill staring at her with an amused grin on his face. "And look what the kneazle dragged in. I mean, I know you desperately missed not seeing me Thursday because of Gin's little birthday lunch, but you needn't make it so obvious."
"Don't flatter yourself," Hermione returned, rolling her eyes at him before turning back to her task. "If you weren't rubbish at making egg salad, I could have slept an extra couple of hours."
"Nonsense," said Molly. She threw her son a damp cloth, and he easily grabbed it out of the air before using it to start wiping down the table. "Bill makes a fine egg salad when he puts his mind to it." Then she added playfully, "I just need you to keep him away from the treacle tart."
Bill paused his cleaning to look up and point a finger at the woman. "Harry said it was just fine, I'll have you know. Just because it's a little runny doesn't mean it can't still taste good."
"And just because Harry says it was fine doesn't mean he wasn't just sparing your fragile ego," said Hermione. Bill's response came in the form of a wet rag landing on her head.
The banter continued as they fell into the same comfortable pattern they always did. The rest of the family would show up soon, and they would gravitate toward their usual roles—Hermione catching up with Harry and Ginny, Bill and Charlie talking Quidditch, Molly simultaneously nagging Fred and George while praising their business sense—but in these early hours before a gathering, Hermione simply relaxed and enjoyed the company.
She watched out of the corner of her eye as Bill passed his mother extra potatoes seconds before she asked for them, because she always lost count of just how many grandkids she had. Molly held the mixing bowl steady as Hermione tried once again to perfect her magical stirring technique and then encouraged her to try again after they both ended up with batter on their faces. Bill only laughed and that lead to half of Hermione's concoction being poured over his head. It was as if the three had been friends all their life; an outsider would never have guessed that they had not always been this way.
The camaraderie wasn't something they planned, but rather something that had found them and helped them out of their darkest times. It had started seven years earlier when Molly lost Arthur in the final battle against Voldemort. Everyone had suffered, of course, but no one as much as the Weasley matriarch. It was that experience, however, that gave her the ability to help her oldest son when he lost Fleur and his unborn son in childbirth three and a half years later. To say he was depressed would have been a vast understatement, and it wasn't until Hermione joined them that he was finally able to get a hold on himself, for her sake. It had been almost three years since Ron was killed on Auror duty, and only Molly and Bill's support had enabled her to keep even a tentative hold on her sanity through those first six months.
"Have you gotten the decorations out yet?" asked Hermione as she waved her wand and made the last vestiges of their miniature food fight disappear.
"Oh no, they're in a box in the twins' old room," said Molly "I wanted to get them out of the way after Harry's party."
Bill kissed his mother on the cheek. "If you don't stop letting Fred and George add to your little collection, pretty soon you're going to need to add an extra room just to store your decorations."
"The changeable banner was a nice invention, you do have to admit," said Hermione. At Bill's look she reluctantly added, "Well, except that time…."
"Don't even say it. Do you want me to go up?" He held out his hands, which were covered in flour.
"No, I'll get them." Hermione dashed out of the kitchen and up the stairs with an energy that betrayed exactly how happy she felt being back at the Burrow. It wasn't as if she was away for long stretches—there was a dinner or some event at least twice a month—but while the house still held some sadness for her, it was mostly good things, old and new. It was here that, after Ron's death, she'd connected with Bill and finally been able to reach some sort of agreement with herself, to begin to move on with her life. It was here that Ron had become cherished memory instead of just an unbearable weight on her heart.
She found the box easily, but Bill was certainly right about Molly's collection. It weighed more than she remembered from only a few weeks earlier. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had started carrying a line of party favours and decorations, and for once Mrs. Weasley was a very willing participant in the product trials. So far the only disaster they'd had their hands was an exploding version of birthday candle that was only supposed to shoot gold sparks, but they had been smart enough to incorporate a shield charm into the design, so no harm had been caused by it. Hermione smiled to herself as she cast a quick charm to lighten the load and carried the box back downstairs. She immediately started pulling out items, using her wand to float them into place
"It's the perfect time." She could hear Molly's words coming from the kitchen, spoken quieter than usual. "Before everyone else gets here."
"Not yet, Mum. Please," Bill answered, also in a low voice. "Let's not ruin the night."
Hermione's brow wrinkled in confusion. What in the world could they be talking about? It was obviously something they didn't want her to hear, since she was the only other person in the house, but they never kept secrets from one another. Sure, surprise parties, random gifts, exciting news held until the last minute…but never anything as serious as Bill's tone implied. Her stomach knotted uncomfortably. What could be wrong? She knew intimately how Bill sounded when something was truly wrong—the two had spent enough hours wrapped up in their grief with each other for her to know that—but this time she couldn't place the thing that coloured his words.
Before she could think about it any more, Bill came out of the kitchen with a broad smile on his face. He casually sank into a chair near her, watching as she removed each item from the box. He stared at her for at least a fully minute without saying a word. Finally, she lowered and wand and turned to him. "What?"
He shrugged innocently. "What do you mean?"
Hermione put her hands on her hips. "You only smile like that when you're up to something."
"I just realized you hadn't heard the news, that's all."
"What news?"
"I think I'll just let my brother tell you himself," he said, leaning back with his hands behind his head. He was still grinning.
"Bill Weasley, stop being so damned coy." She swatted lightly at his arm before plopping onto his lap. As if trained to do so, his arms immediately shifted to rest around her. "If your 'brother' had been so intent on my hearing this 'news' from him, he'd have told me himself."
"Perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment," he said, the smile faltering for a split second before settling onto his face at a slightly lower wattage. At Hermione's glare, he shrugged and said, "Charlie's getting married."
"Really? Oh, that's great!" She hugged him tightly, and when she pulled back, it was only so that she could rest her head on his chest. After a moment, she said, "Do you ever wonder if we will again? Get married, that is."
"Often," Bill answered, his voice suddenly tight with emotion, "but I have my doubts."
She lifted her head to look up at him, frowning. "You don't think so?"
He shook his head and smiled softly before hugging her close to him again. "No, I think we could. I just don't know if I'll be lucky enough to twice in my life fall in love with the most wonderful witch in the world and actually, by some miracle, have her love me in return."
Hermione sighed. "You're probably right. It does seem like a rarity of fate that we had what we did. But at least we'll always have each other."
"Yes," said Bill, kissing the top of her head, "we will."
The party guests showed up right on time, or very close to it, in the case of Harry, Ginny and their two-year-old twins, who inevitably would cause six trips to find all their necessary clothing. By the time their meal, cake, and present opening was finished. Hermione had all but forgotten the snatch of conversation she'd overheard earlier. Ginny was gushing over the names they'd picked out for the new baby, who was due in later November, and Hermione found herself lulled into a happy stupor by the atmosphere. These were the times when she could forget about the small bouts of loneliness or the dissatisfaction with her Ministry desk job, so she let herself be swept up by it. So much so that she was caught off guard when Bill stood up to make an announcement.
"As you know," he started, shifting his weight from one foot to another, "I've been looking into some new job opportunities. Gringotts offered me back my old position, but I really wanted something a little different."
Hermione offered him a smile of encouragement, feeling relief flood through her. Was this all it was? He was nervous about setting off on a new track of employment? He'd only taken side jobs over the last few years, enough to stay afloat, and she knew from numerous conversation with him that, while he was anxious to find something more permanent, he was also nervous that his time out of the market had made him obsolete. There were so many new inventions in the world of curses since he'd left the field nearly four years ago.
Bill took a deep breath. "I've decided to accept a position in America. There's a small town in California that has been under a powerful influx of dark magics, and there will be a team of us going in to check things over and undo some of the things that have previously made it a dangerous place to live. I won't know many details until I get there, but I think it's going to be a really exciting assignment. A good opportunity to tune up my skill set." He looked at Hermione, his eyes searching for her opinion.
"But that's so far away!" exclaimed Ginny, saying the words that had been screaming in Hermione's head ever since Bill had started speaking again. "You won't be able to come home but maybe six or seven times a year, at the current cost of an international portkey."
"Probably even less," said Bill with a little shake of his head.
Hermione could see that he was trying to make eye contact with her, but she couldn't look up at him. She was too afraid he'd see the tears in her eyes, and that simply wouldn't be fair. He was right. It was a good opportunity for him, and she certainly couldn't stand in the way. Bill, however, didn't take her silence for a response, and wordlessly offered her a hand and led her outside. She could hear the frenzied discussion left in their wake, mostly led by Ginny's worry that he children would not get to see their uncle as much as they should, but Hermione barely listened.
"When?" was all she could manage to say, when they'd gotten a small distance from the house.
"Tomorrow," said Bill softly, his voice almost carried away in the light breeze that encircled them. The sun was just beginning to sink below the edge of the horizon, and the trees that surrounded the Burrow cast eerie shadows across the lawn.
"Tomorrow!" responded Hermione, a little more loudly than she'd intended. "How can they expect you to just up and leave so quickly? You'll need time to prep—"
"It's not short notice, Hermione." He stopped and faced her, taking both of her hands into his. "I'm all packed and ready."
She felt tears prickling at her eyes again, but refused to let them fall. She'd made a promise to herself a long time ago, after Ron died, to not cry at the small things in life anymore. Too many serious things had happened to her to waste grief over silly things, and Bill moving to America was certainly not as severe as death and war. "How long have you known?"
"A month."
"A whole month and you didn't tell me? All those times we've sat around talking about upcoming holidays and weekly lunch meetings, you never thought to mention it? Why didn't you say something?"
Bill started walking again, but he only dropped one of her hands. He didn't look at her when he said, "I—I just didn't want to think about saying goodbye yet."
"But why? Why do you have to leave? Aren't you happy here?" she asked, taking a shaky breath. She knew they were purely selfish questions, and that his leaving had nothing to do with his happiness at the Burrow, so she was a little surprised by his answer.
"Yes, of course I'm happy. But part of what makes me happy…well, it's all a fantasy. I can't go on wanting a life that was never meant to be."
She didn't know how to respond to that statement. How could she? She knew all too well what it was like to yearn for a lost loved one. And even so many years later, there were still moments of weakness when those feelings would return full force. But Hermione hadn't realized that Bill had been hit by them so strongly, and she was both hurt that he hadn't mentioned it earlier, and disappointed in herself for not noticing.
They said their goodbyes only an hour or so later, and Hermione was very proud of herself for not letting a single tear fall. After all, he'd be back for Christmas, and that was only a few short months away. Between work and helping Ginny set up the nursery again, surely she wouldn't notice his absence as acutely as it felt in those first moments after apparating home.
Not two minutes after she'd settled onto her couch with a glass of wine and her favourite novel in an attempt to cleanse her mind of sad thoughts before bed, there was a knock at her door. She leapt up a little too eagerly to answer it, and was then sorely disappointed to see Ginny standing there, her arms folded over her large belly.
"You're just going to let him go?" Ginny asked before she was even completely into the flat.
"Since when do I have any control over what your brother does or doesn't do?" Hermione said with a deep sigh before sitting back down again.
Ginny eased herself onto the couch next to her friend. "But I thought…. Aren't you two seeing one another?"
Hermione nearly spit out her wine. "Whatever gave you that idea? Of course not."
Rolling her eyes, Ginny scooted a little closer and pulled the book out of Hermione's lap to force her full attention. "What gave me the idea? Everything. The way you talk about one another like the other's life is the most interesting thing in the world. Or maybe how he pulls your chair up for you at dinner or smiles when you walk into the room. How you might postpone dinner at my house, but you'll move the earth itself in order to make it lunch with him every Thursday. And—"
"Stop," said Hermione quietly. "It's not like that, Gin."
"Then what's it like?"
"We weren't meant to be anything more than good friends. He doesn't feel that way about me."
Ginny's look felt like it was boring a hole into her soul. "How do you know?"
"If he did, he wouldn't be going as far away from me as he can possibly get," Hermione said simply, biting her lip.
"Hermione, aside from Harry, you are my best friend in the entire world, so cut the bullshit," said Ginny, her face set in the same determined expression she always had when she was out to get her way. "If your feelings for one another are so platonic, why have you looked like someone whose heart has been ripped out of her chest ever since he made that announcement?"
"I said his feelings were platonic," Hermione started, swallowing in an attempt to clear the shakiness from her voice. It wasn't quite successful, to her dismay. "I never said mine were."
"So you—"
"I think I'm in love with him."
A/N--For anyone who's waiting on new chapters of Essence and/or NAE from me, I promise this little story does not mean I haven't been working on those, I swear. Both of those have next chapters that are in significant stages of progress. I just had to get this little story out of my system while it was fresh. Don't worry, this one will only be 3 parts, so regardless of the others, this one should be finished relatively quickly. Let me know what you think. I've already got Fred and Charlie stories, and Bill was feeling a little left out, haha. Thought I'd try my hand at one of these, since there aren't many out there.