Fic: Complications (Hermione/Bill)
Title: Complications
Pairing: Bill/Hermione
Rating: Teen.
Summary: Bill’s divorce from Fleur is final, and he has a question to ask Hermione.
A/N: EWE, post break-up Ron/Hermione, post divorce Fleur/Bill, reference to past miscarriage for Fleur. Friends to lovers.
“How did it feel when you and Ron broke up?” Bill looks across the table at Hermione and makes a face. “You know, forget it. You don’t have to answer that. I know it’s too personal to ask.”
“Yes, it is,” she agrees, studying Bill curiously. When he Floo’d her about meeting for a drink after work, she’d known it was going to be a serious conversation, but she hadn’t expected him to get that personal before the first glass of Firewhiskey is even halfway gone. “It isn’t a simple answer anyway.”
“Is anything simple with you?” He arches a brow, tipping his glass at her as his lips quirk into a slight smile.
“Some things are very simple.” Hermione is the one who looks away first. They’ve been playing this game for months, and she’s always the one who looks away first. Brave little Gryffindor, her arse. Brave when facing Deatheaters, perhaps, but not so brave when it comes to the intricacies of relationships and emotional things that aren’t easily anticipated.
“I highly doubt you could list five simple things in your life,” he teases, making an obvious effort to lighten what has become a rather somber mood. It won’t last. She knows it as well as he does. “Anyway, simple is overrated.”
After a moment of comfortable silence, she decides to try to explain her answer to his question. “It felt terrible, but it also felt like a relief,” she whispers, staring at the flickering flame of the candle on their table. Their favorite pub to visit is near Gringotts, a short walk for Bill after work and easily accessible via the Ministry Floo for her. It’s usually crowded and loud, which means they can sit at a table in the back without being noticed or disturbed. The only thing she dislikes is the candlelight because it makes the setting more intimate than it should be, which can occasionally lead to thought she shouldn’t have.
“A relief?” He sits back in his chair, the wood creaking slightly under his weight, his leg brushing against hers when he shifts. “How so?”
“Like I’d been drowning for months and could suddenly breathe again.” She glances up at him, squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw when she sees the surprised expression on his handsome face. “I love Ron dearly. He’s one of my best friends, and our friendship is strong enough that it not only survived a broken romance but became stronger. But, for a brief time, I almost hated him, hated myself, because I felt like we were both doing what was expected instead of what we both wanted. So when we broke up, it was horrible because I dislike failure and do care about him greatly, but it was also such a relief that I can’t put it into words.”
“I think Fleur hates me,” he says, voice so low it’s difficult to hear him over the chatter of pub occupants enjoying happy hour. “She’s never said it, but there’s this look in her eyes sometimes that I recognize. I’ve hated myself quite a bit over the last few years, so I know how that feels.”
“She doesn’t hate you, William,” Hermione says sharply, watching Bill’s eyes widen at her use of his full name. “She loves you, regardless of what’s happened.”
“Right. She loves me, but she’s no longer in love with me, which is only right considering I feel the same way.” He finishes his glass of Firewhiskey before slamming it on the table. He looks at her, eyes narrowed, leaning across the table. “I was happy when I received the owl with the divorce decree today. Relieved is a perfect description, in fact. Because I know she can’t stand the sight of me anymore, and now she’s free.”
“You lost a child.” Hermione reaches out to place her hand on top of Bill’s, squeezing gently. “Even the strongest relationships can be destroyed after such a tragedy. That doesn’t mean she hates you or can’t stand the sight of you, though.”
“Three years ago,” Bill murmurs, dragging his thumb over Hermione’s hand. “She had the miscarriage three years ago, Hermione. Fleur blames herself when she isn’t blaming me for not being there. We tried...Merlin, we tried so many things to try to get through it, to keep our relationship solid, and nothing worked. I lost the baby, too, even if it wasn’t physically, but Fleur needed me to be strong for her, so I tried. But it wasn’t enough. She drifted further away until I was left behind, and now I’m free of it. I shouldn’t be glad, should I? I feel like I’m a monster for being thankful that it’s finally official.”
“You aren’t a monster. You both went through something horrible, and you did try. There’s nothing to regret in that aspect,” she tells him honestly. It’s been a terrible thing, Fleur losing the baby at five months, having to watch two of her good friends go through something she can’t really understand.
“I know that nothing could have changed what happened.” Bill looks into her eyes. “Even if I hadn’t been at work, if I’d got Fleur to St. Mungos immediately, it still wouldn’t have changed anything. That doesn’t mean I don’t still blame myself sometimes, though. Fleur couldn’t have done anything, either, and she feels the same way. I think maybe we were both so caught up in our grief, in our own self-blame, that we lost each other somewhere along the way. I only hope that she’s able to find happiness now.”
“I think that’s all either of you want for each other,” she says. It’s been a rough few years for them, and she’s tried being there when they’ve needed her because she became rather close to them during her stay at Shell Cottage during the war and the months after, when she’d needed somewhere to escape sometimes. In recent months, since they separated and decided to get a divorce, she’s spent a lot more time with Bill because he moved to Diagon Alley, letting a flat in her own building.
In all honestly, Hermione’s felt guilty, so bloody guilty, for the way she’s started to feel about Bill. But she’s been honest with Fleur because their friendship is important to her, and Fleur hadn’t been angry or upset. She’d just seemed resigned, in a way, but also accepting. Last week, Fleur left for France to live with Gabrielle, needing to be away from England and the memories, but she’d told Hermione to take care of Bill before kissing her cheek. It isn’t as if she actually needs Fleur’s permission or consent to be infatuated with Bill, but it had made her feel better to know her feelings wouldn’t ruin her friendship with Fleur.
“How long did it take before you and Ron were able to be friends again?” Bill asks, reaching for her glass of Firewhiskey. It’s mostly untouched since she’s not particularly fond of it, but she’d felt having a sip or two tonight might steady her nerves. He’s still looking into her eyes as he takes a sip of her drink. “Before either of you were ready to date someone else?”
“You keep asking difficult questions,” she mutters, wishing she had her drink now so she could give herself time to think. “We were never not friends. Our break-up was amicable. Despite feeling discontent for months, Ron’s the one who had the courage to actually bring it up, to ask me if I was happy or if I felt like I could be happier with a different life, one without him sharing my bed. He’d known that I’d changed even before I did, I figure. As you know, he started dating again within a couple of months. I could have, but I was focused on my work and friends instead, so I haven’t really bothered yet.”
“Is there a proper time to mourn the loss of a relationship?” Bill looks away, glancing at the crowded bar before focusing back on her. “I know you aren’t an expert. I was merely asking in a hypothetical way.”
“Am I that predictable?” She huffs but isn’t actually that offended that he knows her so well. They spend a lot of time together, after all, and Bill’s an intelligent man. She doesn’t believe for a moment that he isn’t aware of her infatuation. He’s just too kind to tease her about it.
“I think we’ve already established that simple isn’t an accurate word to use about you,” he says, lips quirking slightly. “You’re far too complex to be predictable. I just know how you mutter if I ask questions about relationships.”
“I’m not that complicated.” Hermione bites her bottom lip and glances down at the table, staring at their joined hands. He hasn’t let go yet. Looking back up, she purses her lips. “A relationship with my best friend that lasted about eighteen months nearly four years ago doesn’t qualify me for giving relationship advice. However, I don’t think there’s an actual mourning period for relationships. Some people might wait days, others months, and still others might wait for years.”
“So society won’t look askance if I were to ask someone on a date when the ink on my divorce parchment is still drying?” Bill is staring again, quirky smile gone, and a serious expression on his face as he looks at her. “Fleur and I separated nearly a year ago. I finally feel ready to move on, but I’ve been waiting for the paperwork because it’s not fair to the woman I want to date to even bring it up when I was still technically married.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Hermione is trying to remain comforting when all she really wants to do is scream. Bill’s interested in someone. It shouldn’t surprise her. He’s extremely good-looking and one of the most intelligent men she’s ever met, after all. Not to mention charismatic, bold, caring, and sexy as sin. Of course he’s not going to be happy remaining single, no matter how much he loved Fleur and how badly the divorce has really affected him. Still, it’s a shock, and she doesn’t think she’s ready to support him as he moves on. Not yet. “I need a drink. I’ll be right back, alright?”
Without giving him time to answer, she pulls her hand free and stands up. It’s tempting to just keep walking, to leave the pub and go home to drown her sorrows in ice cream, but this is an emotional day for a good friend of hers, and she can’t just leave him here alone. Hopefully, he’ll drop the subject about dating someone because she feels rather foolish for thinking he might have romantic feelings for her. Since the bar is crowded, she expects to have to wait for a bit, which is good. She needs time to get her thoughts under control.
Unfortunately, someone immediately recognizes her, and she’s soon got two glasses of Firewhiskey paid for by a Muggleborn who is praising her for her role in bringing down Voldemort. Others join in the talk, all praising her instead of making sneering comments about witches or Muggleborns like some do, and it’s all causing her to feel rather trapped. Even after five plus years, it still makes her feel slightly awkward when people talk about that horrible time and credit her like she’s some kind of heroine. There have been books written about Harry, full of supposition and inaccuracy, and that seems to give people some kind of permission to speak to her as if they know her personally because of what’s been written.
The only authorized publication from that time is the book Luna and her father wrote, and Hermione made certain some personal tragedies were never put into print. The fear and desperation she felt during those endless months of camping, the torture at Malfoy Manor, the sense of hopelessness during the battle with so many dying around her, and the inability to locate her parents after the war are all things no one but those in her inner circle know about, so the general public has no idea what comes to her mind when they bring up her role in Harry’s destiny.
Hands are suddenly on her shoulders. She tenses for a moment, Firewhiskey sloshing out of the glasses and onto her fingers as she lets go of them so she can reach for her wand if needed. The fingers squeeze as a warm body presses against her from behind. The scent of ink, leather, and cinnamon relaxes her because she recognizes it. “Why don’t we get out of here?” Bill suggests, voice low as he speaks against her ear.
“Yes, let’s,” she agrees, thankful that he’s stepped in before she ended up snapping at the well-meaning people at the bar. Bill knows it bothers her to receive attention for her part in the war, and, for once, she’s grateful at having someone step in to save her from the admiration.
“You alright?” he asks when they step outside. He’s still walking behind her with his hands on her shoulders.
“Fine. Thank you.” She takes a step forward, shrugging off his hold, only to find that he refuses to let go. Instead, he guides her into the alley beside the pub before turning her to look at him. “What are you doing, William?”
“You only call me William when you’re insisting I pay attention or you’re annoyed.” Bill leans into her. “Which is it this time, Hermione?”
“You’ve forced me into an alley that smells worse than the Gryffindor locker room after a long Quidditch match. Which do you suppose it is?”
“Hang around the locker room a lot, did you?”
“Enough to know the stench is unpleasant yet still an improvement from this alley.”
“Why did you leave the table, Hermione?”
“What?” Hermione blinks up at him. “I wanted a drink.”
“You aren’t fond of Firewhiskey.” Bill is looking at her intently. “You looked stricken when I mentioned dating. Why?”
“You aren’t a stupid man.” She looks at him steadily. “You are, however, more cruel than I realized. Must you poke at the wound this way?”
“Cruel? I’m not cruel nor am I poking at any wounds.” He frowns and moves closer. “You aren’t stupid, either, Hermione. Far from it. So why are you acting as if you have no idea who I’d like to date?”
“Because you’ve never given me any indication that you were even interested in me that way!”
“Because I was still married!” Bill growls low in his throat before he’s suddenly kissing her.
It’s a rough kiss, unlike any of the ones she shared with Ron. Passionate. It stirs something inside her that’s been dormant for years, and she’s soon returning the kiss eagerly. She moves her fingers into his long hair, tugging on it as he presses her against the side of the pub. Her work robes are light, offering little protection against the brick she’s rubbing against, her clothing underneath getting damp from the wall he’s pressing her into. The kiss eventually gentles, his hands moving down her body in a bold way that makes her skin flush with warmth. When she whimpers into the kiss, he suddenly pulls back and stares at her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean for things to go that fast so soon. You just infuriate me sometimes with your inability to see what’s right in front of you.”
“You’re right in front of me,” she says, reaching up to try to fix her hair, which has been tousled and must look horrid.
“Exactly.” He takes her hand and pulls it down, doing the intense stare again as she blinks at him. “I want to take you out on a date, Hermione. I know it’s probably going to be difficult considering you used to date my baby brother and you’re good friends with my now ex-wife, but I want to try because I think we’d be good together. Would you please go out with me?”
“Difficult is an understatement.” She can already imagine what some of her critics will say, especially since his divorce just happened even if the relationship was basically over a year ago. Fortunately, she’s got a thick skin, and she’s not cared what the press or other people say about her since she was a fourth year. With Bill looking at her that way and the taste of him still on her lips, she knows there’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” She tilts her chin and smiles. “After all, a wise man recently told me that simple is overrated, so bring on the complications.”
Pairing: Bill/Hermione
Rating: Teen.
Summary: Bill’s divorce from Fleur is final, and he has a question to ask Hermione.
A/N: EWE, post break-up Ron/Hermione, post divorce Fleur/Bill, reference to past miscarriage for Fleur. Friends to lovers.
“How did it feel when you and Ron broke up?” Bill looks across the table at Hermione and makes a face. “You know, forget it. You don’t have to answer that. I know it’s too personal to ask.”
“Yes, it is,” she agrees, studying Bill curiously. When he Floo’d her about meeting for a drink after work, she’d known it was going to be a serious conversation, but she hadn’t expected him to get that personal before the first glass of Firewhiskey is even halfway gone. “It isn’t a simple answer anyway.”
“Is anything simple with you?” He arches a brow, tipping his glass at her as his lips quirk into a slight smile.
“Some things are very simple.” Hermione is the one who looks away first. They’ve been playing this game for months, and she’s always the one who looks away first. Brave little Gryffindor, her arse. Brave when facing Deatheaters, perhaps, but not so brave when it comes to the intricacies of relationships and emotional things that aren’t easily anticipated.
“I highly doubt you could list five simple things in your life,” he teases, making an obvious effort to lighten what has become a rather somber mood. It won’t last. She knows it as well as he does. “Anyway, simple is overrated.”
After a moment of comfortable silence, she decides to try to explain her answer to his question. “It felt terrible, but it also felt like a relief,” she whispers, staring at the flickering flame of the candle on their table. Their favorite pub to visit is near Gringotts, a short walk for Bill after work and easily accessible via the Ministry Floo for her. It’s usually crowded and loud, which means they can sit at a table in the back without being noticed or disturbed. The only thing she dislikes is the candlelight because it makes the setting more intimate than it should be, which can occasionally lead to thought she shouldn’t have.
“A relief?” He sits back in his chair, the wood creaking slightly under his weight, his leg brushing against hers when he shifts. “How so?”
“Like I’d been drowning for months and could suddenly breathe again.” She glances up at him, squaring her shoulders and clenching her jaw when she sees the surprised expression on his handsome face. “I love Ron dearly. He’s one of my best friends, and our friendship is strong enough that it not only survived a broken romance but became stronger. But, for a brief time, I almost hated him, hated myself, because I felt like we were both doing what was expected instead of what we both wanted. So when we broke up, it was horrible because I dislike failure and do care about him greatly, but it was also such a relief that I can’t put it into words.”
“I think Fleur hates me,” he says, voice so low it’s difficult to hear him over the chatter of pub occupants enjoying happy hour. “She’s never said it, but there’s this look in her eyes sometimes that I recognize. I’ve hated myself quite a bit over the last few years, so I know how that feels.”
“She doesn’t hate you, William,” Hermione says sharply, watching Bill’s eyes widen at her use of his full name. “She loves you, regardless of what’s happened.”
“Right. She loves me, but she’s no longer in love with me, which is only right considering I feel the same way.” He finishes his glass of Firewhiskey before slamming it on the table. He looks at her, eyes narrowed, leaning across the table. “I was happy when I received the owl with the divorce decree today. Relieved is a perfect description, in fact. Because I know she can’t stand the sight of me anymore, and now she’s free.”
“You lost a child.” Hermione reaches out to place her hand on top of Bill’s, squeezing gently. “Even the strongest relationships can be destroyed after such a tragedy. That doesn’t mean she hates you or can’t stand the sight of you, though.”
“Three years ago,” Bill murmurs, dragging his thumb over Hermione’s hand. “She had the miscarriage three years ago, Hermione. Fleur blames herself when she isn’t blaming me for not being there. We tried...Merlin, we tried so many things to try to get through it, to keep our relationship solid, and nothing worked. I lost the baby, too, even if it wasn’t physically, but Fleur needed me to be strong for her, so I tried. But it wasn’t enough. She drifted further away until I was left behind, and now I’m free of it. I shouldn’t be glad, should I? I feel like I’m a monster for being thankful that it’s finally official.”
“You aren’t a monster. You both went through something horrible, and you did try. There’s nothing to regret in that aspect,” she tells him honestly. It’s been a terrible thing, Fleur losing the baby at five months, having to watch two of her good friends go through something she can’t really understand.
“I know that nothing could have changed what happened.” Bill looks into her eyes. “Even if I hadn’t been at work, if I’d got Fleur to St. Mungos immediately, it still wouldn’t have changed anything. That doesn’t mean I don’t still blame myself sometimes, though. Fleur couldn’t have done anything, either, and she feels the same way. I think maybe we were both so caught up in our grief, in our own self-blame, that we lost each other somewhere along the way. I only hope that she’s able to find happiness now.”
“I think that’s all either of you want for each other,” she says. It’s been a rough few years for them, and she’s tried being there when they’ve needed her because she became rather close to them during her stay at Shell Cottage during the war and the months after, when she’d needed somewhere to escape sometimes. In recent months, since they separated and decided to get a divorce, she’s spent a lot more time with Bill because he moved to Diagon Alley, letting a flat in her own building.
In all honestly, Hermione’s felt guilty, so bloody guilty, for the way she’s started to feel about Bill. But she’s been honest with Fleur because their friendship is important to her, and Fleur hadn’t been angry or upset. She’d just seemed resigned, in a way, but also accepting. Last week, Fleur left for France to live with Gabrielle, needing to be away from England and the memories, but she’d told Hermione to take care of Bill before kissing her cheek. It isn’t as if she actually needs Fleur’s permission or consent to be infatuated with Bill, but it had made her feel better to know her feelings wouldn’t ruin her friendship with Fleur.
“How long did it take before you and Ron were able to be friends again?” Bill asks, reaching for her glass of Firewhiskey. It’s mostly untouched since she’s not particularly fond of it, but she’d felt having a sip or two tonight might steady her nerves. He’s still looking into her eyes as he takes a sip of her drink. “Before either of you were ready to date someone else?”
“You keep asking difficult questions,” she mutters, wishing she had her drink now so she could give herself time to think. “We were never not friends. Our break-up was amicable. Despite feeling discontent for months, Ron’s the one who had the courage to actually bring it up, to ask me if I was happy or if I felt like I could be happier with a different life, one without him sharing my bed. He’d known that I’d changed even before I did, I figure. As you know, he started dating again within a couple of months. I could have, but I was focused on my work and friends instead, so I haven’t really bothered yet.”
“Is there a proper time to mourn the loss of a relationship?” Bill looks away, glancing at the crowded bar before focusing back on her. “I know you aren’t an expert. I was merely asking in a hypothetical way.”
“Am I that predictable?” She huffs but isn’t actually that offended that he knows her so well. They spend a lot of time together, after all, and Bill’s an intelligent man. She doesn’t believe for a moment that he isn’t aware of her infatuation. He’s just too kind to tease her about it.
“I think we’ve already established that simple isn’t an accurate word to use about you,” he says, lips quirking slightly. “You’re far too complex to be predictable. I just know how you mutter if I ask questions about relationships.”
“I’m not that complicated.” Hermione bites her bottom lip and glances down at the table, staring at their joined hands. He hasn’t let go yet. Looking back up, she purses her lips. “A relationship with my best friend that lasted about eighteen months nearly four years ago doesn’t qualify me for giving relationship advice. However, I don’t think there’s an actual mourning period for relationships. Some people might wait days, others months, and still others might wait for years.”
“So society won’t look askance if I were to ask someone on a date when the ink on my divorce parchment is still drying?” Bill is staring again, quirky smile gone, and a serious expression on his face as he looks at her. “Fleur and I separated nearly a year ago. I finally feel ready to move on, but I’ve been waiting for the paperwork because it’s not fair to the woman I want to date to even bring it up when I was still technically married.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been fair.” Hermione is trying to remain comforting when all she really wants to do is scream. Bill’s interested in someone. It shouldn’t surprise her. He’s extremely good-looking and one of the most intelligent men she’s ever met, after all. Not to mention charismatic, bold, caring, and sexy as sin. Of course he’s not going to be happy remaining single, no matter how much he loved Fleur and how badly the divorce has really affected him. Still, it’s a shock, and she doesn’t think she’s ready to support him as he moves on. Not yet. “I need a drink. I’ll be right back, alright?”
Without giving him time to answer, she pulls her hand free and stands up. It’s tempting to just keep walking, to leave the pub and go home to drown her sorrows in ice cream, but this is an emotional day for a good friend of hers, and she can’t just leave him here alone. Hopefully, he’ll drop the subject about dating someone because she feels rather foolish for thinking he might have romantic feelings for her. Since the bar is crowded, she expects to have to wait for a bit, which is good. She needs time to get her thoughts under control.
Unfortunately, someone immediately recognizes her, and she’s soon got two glasses of Firewhiskey paid for by a Muggleborn who is praising her for her role in bringing down Voldemort. Others join in the talk, all praising her instead of making sneering comments about witches or Muggleborns like some do, and it’s all causing her to feel rather trapped. Even after five plus years, it still makes her feel slightly awkward when people talk about that horrible time and credit her like she’s some kind of heroine. There have been books written about Harry, full of supposition and inaccuracy, and that seems to give people some kind of permission to speak to her as if they know her personally because of what’s been written.
The only authorized publication from that time is the book Luna and her father wrote, and Hermione made certain some personal tragedies were never put into print. The fear and desperation she felt during those endless months of camping, the torture at Malfoy Manor, the sense of hopelessness during the battle with so many dying around her, and the inability to locate her parents after the war are all things no one but those in her inner circle know about, so the general public has no idea what comes to her mind when they bring up her role in Harry’s destiny.
Hands are suddenly on her shoulders. She tenses for a moment, Firewhiskey sloshing out of the glasses and onto her fingers as she lets go of them so she can reach for her wand if needed. The fingers squeeze as a warm body presses against her from behind. The scent of ink, leather, and cinnamon relaxes her because she recognizes it. “Why don’t we get out of here?” Bill suggests, voice low as he speaks against her ear.
“Yes, let’s,” she agrees, thankful that he’s stepped in before she ended up snapping at the well-meaning people at the bar. Bill knows it bothers her to receive attention for her part in the war, and, for once, she’s grateful at having someone step in to save her from the admiration.
“You alright?” he asks when they step outside. He’s still walking behind her with his hands on her shoulders.
“Fine. Thank you.” She takes a step forward, shrugging off his hold, only to find that he refuses to let go. Instead, he guides her into the alley beside the pub before turning her to look at him. “What are you doing, William?”
“You only call me William when you’re insisting I pay attention or you’re annoyed.” Bill leans into her. “Which is it this time, Hermione?”
“You’ve forced me into an alley that smells worse than the Gryffindor locker room after a long Quidditch match. Which do you suppose it is?”
“Hang around the locker room a lot, did you?”
“Enough to know the stench is unpleasant yet still an improvement from this alley.”
“Why did you leave the table, Hermione?”
“What?” Hermione blinks up at him. “I wanted a drink.”
“You aren’t fond of Firewhiskey.” Bill is looking at her intently. “You looked stricken when I mentioned dating. Why?”
“You aren’t a stupid man.” She looks at him steadily. “You are, however, more cruel than I realized. Must you poke at the wound this way?”
“Cruel? I’m not cruel nor am I poking at any wounds.” He frowns and moves closer. “You aren’t stupid, either, Hermione. Far from it. So why are you acting as if you have no idea who I’d like to date?”
“Because you’ve never given me any indication that you were even interested in me that way!”
“Because I was still married!” Bill growls low in his throat before he’s suddenly kissing her.
It’s a rough kiss, unlike any of the ones she shared with Ron. Passionate. It stirs something inside her that’s been dormant for years, and she’s soon returning the kiss eagerly. She moves her fingers into his long hair, tugging on it as he presses her against the side of the pub. Her work robes are light, offering little protection against the brick she’s rubbing against, her clothing underneath getting damp from the wall he’s pressing her into. The kiss eventually gentles, his hands moving down her body in a bold way that makes her skin flush with warmth. When she whimpers into the kiss, he suddenly pulls back and stares at her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, dragging his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean for things to go that fast so soon. You just infuriate me sometimes with your inability to see what’s right in front of you.”
“You’re right in front of me,” she says, reaching up to try to fix her hair, which has been tousled and must look horrid.
“Exactly.” He takes her hand and pulls it down, doing the intense stare again as she blinks at him. “I want to take you out on a date, Hermione. I know it’s probably going to be difficult considering you used to date my baby brother and you’re good friends with my now ex-wife, but I want to try because I think we’d be good together. Would you please go out with me?”
“Difficult is an understatement.” She can already imagine what some of her critics will say, especially since his divorce just happened even if the relationship was basically over a year ago. Fortunately, she’s got a thick skin, and she’s not cared what the press or other people say about her since she was a fourth year. With Bill looking at her that way and the taste of him still on her lips, she knows there’s only one answer. “Yes, I’ll go out with you.” She tilts her chin and smiles. “After all, a wise man recently told me that simple is overrated, so bring on the complications.”