When you love two

Bill stood still, watching the crowd and looking for her. His eyes frantically searched around, trying to find her familiar figure amongst passers by, needing to see her. Just as he was starting to worry something might have happened to her, he caught her scent in the middle of Diagon Alley. His heart beat faster; his breathing became ragged as he watched her. She had her back to him, as she walked in the opposite direction. Without hesitating, he went after her; they needed to talk.

Ever since she had left him, he had been slowly going crazy.

He had been shocked at what had happened, at the things she had said. He knew she hadn’t been happy lately, but he hadn’t realized it was his entire fault. He had been a fool, not seeing the position he had put Hermione in, the kind of life he was giving her, but what could he do? If it were really up to him, he would have left his wife long before then, knowing he would live a happy life with Hermione, but he couldn’t do that. His wife wouldn’t allow him to leave her, and would do anything to stay married to him. She had done it, in fact. She held secrets that would probably ruin not only his life, but that of others too, and he was sure Hermione would leave him, if she knew the truth.

Not that it made any difference now. He had been trying to keep Hermione by his side, and had only managed to push her away, to hurt her. She had been right, she deserved better. Much better. But he needed her all the same, and now he knew he would do anything to get her back. He loved her too much to lose her.

It had taken him too long to react the last time they had spoken, and by the time he had followed her out of his house, she was already gone. He had wanted nothing more than to go after her, but her words kept echoing in his mind. She had put her entire life on hold, choosing him over herself time and again; he could see that now. Should he just let her go? Give her the chance she deserved, to have a better life? Could he do that?

The truth wa,s he lived for the time he spent with her, those stolen hours when he could be happy. He had never felt that way about anyone, and knew a life without her by his side would not be a life.

A few hours after Hermione had left, Fleur had returned, wanting to make sure everything was ready for the trip. He had told her he wanted to stay in London, and they had had another fight, that ended the same way it usually did, with more of her threats. The magical community in France was nothing like the one in Britain, and she had already spent three days there without her husband. People were starting to whisper, and so she wanted to flaunt her perfect marriage in front of them all. In the end, he had no other option but to give in; going with her was far better than having her talk; he couldn’t let her tell his secrets.

He stayed with her family the first day, but by the evening of the second, he couldn’t take it any more. It wasn’t that the Delacours were mean, or even impolite; they had no idea what his marriage was like, and treated him as kindly as they always had. Fleur was being uncharacteristically nice as well, and he guessed she was doing it for her family’s benefit. But he kept thinking about Hermione, about the things that had happened between them, the good and the bad, and he realized he couldn’t do it; he couldn’t live without her, couldn’t let her go. Maybe he was just being selfish, but he needed her so much.

“You have what you wanted,” he had yelled at Fleur, when she had tried to stop him from leaving. “You have shown everyone how perfect and enviable our lives are. Now you can stay here, or go back to England if you don’t want them talking. I honestly don’t care. I am going back,” he had said, before leaving. For a few moments, he feared it had been too much, but he knew she wouldn’t say a word. She was an intelligent, calculating woman, and she wouldn’t use the only leverage she had over him for something as unimportant as him leaving too soon.

It was cruel really, having to live with a woman who hated him for not being who she wanted him to, who feared him and blamed him for what had happened to him, for the way he had changed after he had been attacked, when he could have such a different life with the woman he loved, the one he truly believed had been made for him. And still, there was so little he could do to change that.

For two years, he had given Hermione all he could, trying to balance his two lives, the one he was forced to live, and the one he was denied. He had Hermione on his mind day and night, but he had to spend his time away from her, for fear of his wife finding out, for fear of losing Hermione for good.

After their first kiss under the stars, so long ago, it hadn’t taken him long to make up his mind. He had known he was in love with Hermione before then, but had been trying to push that thought away. He was married; he shouldn’t feel that way about someone else. Things with Fleur had not been right for some time, but that was no excuse.

Still that kiss, one that had started almost accidentally, and grown deep, loving and meaningful within seconds, had made him see the truth. She was the one he loved, the one he needed and wanted by his side. It took him days to gather the courage to face his wife; he didn’t want to hurt her, and he was afraid of what their families would think, but he loved Hermione, and that was all that mattered to him.

He remembered that day clearly, the day he had found out who his wife really was, the day his dreams had been shattered. He would have understood if she had felt hurt, betrayed or angry, what he had never expected was her cold response.

Fleur didn’t care what he ‘thought he felt’. They were married, and that would not change. She would not let shame fall on her family, would not force them to disown her because he wanted to leave. Marriages were not based on love, but on commitment, she had said. Respectable witches did not divorce; especially not part Veelas.

He had tried to explain to her that he could not stay married to her, that he was not in love with her, but with someone else. What she had said then had made him freeze in place, her words cutting deep, leaving him speechless. She knew. That had been the first time she had threatened to tell his secret to everyone, if he ever left her, but it hadn’t been the last. She knew how much hurt she could cause, and used that to her advantage, to get anything she wanted from him.

There had been no other choice, at least not to him, and even as he felt his heart was being torn apart he kept his face as calm as he could, slowly walking the last few steps that led him to Hermione’s door. What he would tell her, he didn’t know, but what they had, something that felt so good and promising, had to end, before it could even begin.

She had opened the door and smiled at him, that sweet smile that lit her face and make her look even more beautiful than she always did. He didn’t have time to speak, as she stepped closer to him, and wrapped her arms firmly around his neck, pulling him down for a tender kiss. His brain kept screaming at him, reminding him what he was there for, but his body refused to listen, and he found himself wrapping his arms around her, kissing her deeply, and then whispering a soft, “I love you,” by her ear. He knew it was wrong, but as he held her in his arms he also knew he couldn’t let her go.

And now he was losing her, and the desperation didn’t let him think right.

As soon as he had arrived back to London, he had Apparated to her house, not even noticing it was long past midnight, and she would probably be asleep. But she didn’t answer when he knocked on the door. He called out her name, asked her to open the door, to speak to him, but the only answer he got was an angry neighbour yelling at him to shut up. What was going on? Why wouldn’t she speak to him? A quick spell allowed him to keep calling her name, without the neighbours hearing, but he still got no answer.

He wasn’t sure how long he had stood there, by her door, calling her name until his throat hurt. Then a different thought slipped into his mind. Maybe she wasn’t in there; she would never keep him waiting like that, even if she was mad at him. She would acknowledge him, at the very least. But if she wasn’t there, then where could she be? He reached for his wand once more, and another spell proved him correct. There was no one in the house.

A part of him wanted to stay there waiting for her, but he knew if she had not returned yet, she probably wouldn’t until the next day, so he decided he would go, get some rest, think what he was going to say to her when he saw her, and return in the morning.

He Apparated back to his place, and had just opened the door when he realized it had not been the best idea. Some of Fleur’s things were by the entrance, along with the luggage he had left behind at her parent’s; she had returned. Well, there was no point leaving now, but as he looked up the stairs, to the slightly open door that led to the bedroom, he decided he didn’t need to face her. He took off his shoes, not wanting to wake her up so he would not have to listen to her, and then walked over to the living room. In a matter of minutes, he had lit a small fire, transfigured the sofa into a small bed, and was asleep, his dreams troubled by thoughts of Hermione.

The next day was spent much like the previous night, with him waiting by her house, wanting to talk to her. The result had been the same. He was starting to worry.

He noticed the neighbours looking at him strangely, and decided to move to a small café nearby, with a window through which he could still see the entrance to her house. Night came again, and she still hadn’t returned. He considered asking Ron, or maybe Ginny, if they knew anything, but how would he explain the sudden interest?

He would give her one more day. If she didn’t return, he would start asking questions.

Yet another morning found him watching her door. He briefly wondered if maybe he should be feeling like some sort of stalker. He was just waiting for her to come back home, so he would know she was all right, and then maybe they could talk. He still had a few more days off, since he had been planning on staying in France a little longer, and he had to stay away from his wife, so he didn’t feel so bad for watching for Hermione’s return.

When noon came with no change, he decided he would go to where she worked, and discreetly ask if they new anything. Needless to say, he was surprised by what they told him. She had quit her job a few days before, and that was all her co-workers knew. He was sure that was not true; Hermione had often told him how they always seemed to know what happened to everyone around them. But he didn’t push; he did not want to spark their curiosity.

He had stepped back into the still busy street, even though only a few shops were still open in Diagon Alley. He barely noticed the people walking around him, his mind too busy trying to understand what was going on.

What would he do? What should he do? The best course of action was probably to ask his youngest brother, and maybe Harry too, for some kind of information. If she had quit her job, then at least he knew she had left of her own free will, so maybe nothing bad had happened to her, after all.

He ran into someone, and almost fell, but as soon as he regained his balance, he started walking again. When it happened again, however, he decided to step out of the busy street, so he looked around, trying to find some place where he could sit down and think calmly.

That was when he noticed it. Her scent. It was unmistakable, and in a matter of seconds every thought left his mind, as he craned his neck, trying to find her.

His eyes searched the crown, looking for any sign of her, and he tensed when he saw her, walking in the other direction. Diving into the crowd again, he followed her, his pace faster, his need to see her fuelling his steps, and before long he was close enough to touch, if he would only stretch his arm. However, he decided to wait, and walked after her a few more moments, until they moved past a small, dark side street. He reached for her then, and in one swift move had pulled her with him, away from the main street.

She had rounded on him, wand at the ready, her reflexes toned after years of practice, but once she realized who he was, she lowered the wand, and stepped back.

“Bill?” she asked, and he nodded, stepping closer. She took another step back. Why was she walking away from him?

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he muttered. She looked like she was about to retort, but then shook her head and remained silent. “I was worried about you, where were you?”

“I thought you were in France,” she said, but he didn’t answer; instead, he repeated his question.

“Where were you?”

“I went away for a few days, needed some time off,” she replied, but he was sure she was hiding something.

The street was dark, and he could not read her expression, so he slowly took another step forward.

“What do you want, Bill?” she asked, as their eyes locked. What did he want? He wasn’t sure he knew the answer himself.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, and watched her turn her head away. “Look at me,” he said, taking another step closer, one of his fingers gently but firmly making her look at him again. “I have missed you,” he repeated, holding her gaze. “You have no idea just how much. I need you in my life, Hermione.”

“Please, don’t do this,” she whispered, as her eyes filled with tears. “Please, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this. I love you, baby, and I need you.” he whispered softly, his fingers now caressing her cheek. “We can be together, we will find a way.” The way she looked at him then, a ray of hope suddenly lighting her eyes made him think perhaps there really was another way. Maybe he could tell her the truth. If she knew, and accepted him, then Fleur’s threats would be meaningless; he would have Hermione by his side, and nothing else would matter. Maybe then he would finally be able to leave his wife, and have the life he wanted, with Hermione, able to give her all she deserved.

“There is someone else,” she whispered, her voice so low he could barely make out the words, but he froze in place as soon as he heard them.

“What?” he asked, wishing with all his might he had heard her wrong.

“I am seeing someone else. He can give me a life you can not, Bill” she said, in the same low voice, as if she wasn’t sure what she was saying, or why. “I could be happy with him.”

“And what about me? You can be happy with me too, baby. I will do anything, anything you ask, anything you want. I need you with me.” His pleas sounded pathetic, but what else could he do?

“I love you, Bill, but I don’t think I can be happy with you. I cannot be the other woman any more. I cannot…”

But his lips interrupted her, his kiss soft and tender, trying to show her how much he meant those words he had said. She was one of the few things that made sense in his life, and he needed her more than anything. He loved her, and he would find a way to show her just how much.

He felt her hands on his shoulder, but they weren’t pulling him closer; she was softly pushing him away. He finally broke the kiss, his eyes returning to hers, trying to guess what would happen next.

“I can’t, Bill,” she whispered, slowly shaking her head. “I love you, and I don’t think that will change, but I can have a future with him, he’s all I…” she suddenly stiffened, her eyes wide and focused on something behind him. Then her hands pushed him back, and she was running away from him. “Charlie,” he heard her say as she passed his side.

Charlie? He turned around to find his brother standing a few feet away from them, his eyes fixed on Bill as Hermione tried to gain his attention.

“Charlie, I am sorry. It’s not what you think,” she said, and after a few moments Charlie looked at her.

“Was it him?” he asked, and she stood still, her eyes going from him to Charlie and back again, a fearful expression on her face. Bill noticed the way she talked to his brother, the way one of her hands rested on his chest, while the other snaked around his neck, trying to make him look at her. Then it all clicked together, and he understood.

So many different thoughts crossed his mind at once. So she was the one Charlie had left him for, and his brother was the man Hermione was involved with now. The two most important people in his life, the two he loved the most, and he had lost them both to one another. And then a different idea took over. Maybe he didn’t have to lose them, maybe there was another way. Maybe they could all be together, the three of them.

That thought suddenly took over, pushing all the others back; his anger at Charlie for taking Hermione away, for leaving him behind, and even at Hermione, for moving on so fast, even when he knew he had no right to be upset. In that moment, none of it mattered, as the possibility of having them both back shone through his brain.

With that in mind, he stepped closer to them, and watched Charlie wrap an arm around her waist and move her to his side, so that now there was nothing between both men. He watched Charlie’s expression carefully, and saw the confusion there, suddenly replaced with understanding.

“It was you,” he said then, and he could see the anger flash in his eyes.

He saw the movement too late, and there was nothing he could do to stop Charlie’s fist from hitting his face hard, making him stumble and fall to the floor.