Razorblade Romance

Dear Ron,

I tried to talk to Harry, but he was as stubborn as ever. I encouraged him to set up a charity (what is he going to do with all that money, anyway?) and see someone, but he refused. Personally, I can't take it anymore. I told him that I wasn't going to talk to him until he got everything under control. I know it's a little harsh--especially since I was the same way when we got out of Hogwarts--but it's been three years.

On a lighter note, I'm nearly done with my work in Italy. I'm glad--I was excited in the beginning, but Blaise and I aren't exactly good flatmates. It's not as much fun as I thought it would be. Oh, well. I'll just wait for the time when Bill will take me to Egypt.

I miss you terribly, Ron. I can't wait until you're done with your training.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione folded up the letter, tucking it into an envelope and scribbling Ron across the front. "Here you are," she said, handing it to Pig. "Give Ron a peck on the ear for me, will you?"

Pig hooted before zooming out the window eagerly. Hermione watched him leave from the desk in the study until he was a little speck in the distance. Sighing, she dragged herself up out of the comfortable chair and strode into the hallway.

"Hermione!" Blaise called from downstairs as she made her way towards the attic. "Hermione, Bill's in the fireplace!"

"Coming!" she shouted, all but skipping down the corridor to the staircase. It had been a week since she last contacted Bill, and with Blaise acting rather frigid towards her, she was in desperate need of human communication.

"Thanks," said Hermione as she entered the sitting room. Bill's head was hanging in the fire, and he flashed her a smile.

"You're welcome," Blaise replied coldly. Ever since Hermione had refused to tell him her conversation with Harry--why would she, anyway? Blaise didn't know Harry well enough to understand--Blaise had been distant and barely spoke to her. "I'll give you two privacy."

Bill watched him leave, eyebrows rising high into his forehead. "He needs to take the broomstick out of his arse."

"He thinks I should tell him why I was unhappy with Harry," Hermione informed him. "I believe that it is a private matter that he does not need to involve himself with."

Bill's features softened. "I'm sorry. Do you want me to talk to Harry?"

Hermione shrugged. "If you think it'll help. He seems to only speak with Lupin, but he's in Sweden."

"I'll send him an owl today, ordering him to take an early holiday," Bill decided. "My mum's getting worried about Harry, too."

"She's doing the worrying for everyone."

"It's her job, you know."

"I know." Hermione sighed. "Listen...Do you happen to have Curses, Hexes, Jinxes, and More by that German man? There's something wrong with this necklace from Africa, but I can't figure it out."

"I think we have it around someplace. Probably in my office. Do you mind if I Floo over later today and drop it off?"

"I think it'll be all right."

"Swell." Bill glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, bugger. Miranda, please, please get that finished before Sunday, we need that all done--Hermione, I'm sorry, but I have to be leaving now." With that, Bill's head was gone from the flames.

When Hermione left the living room, Blaise was waiting by the staircase. He pushed himself off the railing, landing smoothly on the bottom stair.

"What did Weasley have to say?" Blaise inquired. He had called Bill by his last name, Hermione noticed. Well. He hadn't done that earlier.

"Nothing really. Just wanted to check up on me, I think. Do you mind if he Floos over later?"

"No." Blaise started to head off towards his own room, then stopped and turned back to face her. "Oh, you've got an owl. It's in the kitchen."

Another owl? Hermione thought as she walked to the kitchen. It couldn't be from Ron--she had, after all, just sent Pig off with a reply to him. And since Hedwig had been killed by a stray curse during the war, Harry refused to buy another owl and preferred to talk through the Floo or with other people's owls. And since she had just spoken with Bill...

When she entered the kitchen, the owl in question hooted and flew over to land on her shoulder. He--or perhaps it was a she? --shoved the letter into her outstretched hand, then left out the open window.

Intrigued, Hermione opened the letter. She didn't recognise the handwriting, which was clear and perfect, as though someone had used a typewriter.

She is one girl; there is no one like her.

She is more beautiful than any other.

Look, she is like a star goddess arising

at the beginning of a happy new year;

brilliantly white, bright skinned;

with beautiful eyes for looking,

with sweet lips for speaking;

she has not one phrase too many.

With a long neck and white breast,

her hair of genuine lapis lazuli;

her arm more brilliant than gold;

her fingers like lotus flowers,

with heavy buttocks and girt waist.

Her thighs offer her beauty,

with a brisk step she treads on ground.

She has captured my heart in her embrace.

She makes all men turn their necks

to look at her.

One looks at her passing by,

this one, the unique one.

Hermione read it through twice, and immediately felt a blush rise in her cheeks. Was it a...love letter? No, surely not, she scoffed. Who would send me a love letter?

Ron! barked a voice in her mind.

Obviously, it's Ron, another one agreed.

No, she ordered. Ron and I aren't together anymore. Besides, if he's working to become an Auror, when does he have time to send me love letters?

Who says it has to be Ron? asked an eager voice. Perhaps it's Bill!

Bill?

"No," said Hermione aloud, shaking her head. "Not Bill..."

Why not? He's been flirting with you lately. And this seems like the sort of thing Bill would do to woo a girl, doesn't it? Perhaps you'll get a bundle of roses next.

Hermione shoved the letter into her pocket. "That's enough for now. I have to work to do, and there will be no worrying about silly love letters! It's probably Ginny, anyway..."

But as she walked up the stairs, she couldn't help but think, Since when do I have heavy buttocks?

* * *

Hermione glanced down at her book, frustrated. The necklace was obviously cursed with an Ever-Laughter Charm, because it glowed a sickly green colour when she tapped it with her wand. But when she had taken a risk and touched it with her bare hands, nothing had happened. Why? She had fingered every strand of the string and stroked the stones multiple times. And she wasn't laughing.

Something brushed against her neck. Hermione swatted at it, thinking it was a bug, and shrieked when her hand encountered warm skin. She whirled around to face a chuckling Bill, who was holding a thick, leather-bound book.

"Blaise told me that I could find you up here. Hard at work?"

"Attempting to be," said Hermione dryly. She gestured to the book in his hands. "Is that Curses, Hexes, Jinxes, and More?"

"Indeed it is." Bill handed her the book, which she took eagerly. "How long you been working?"

"A few hours," Hermione answered, examining the index with an observant eye. "Why?"

"Just curious." Bill glanced around the attic, which was full to the brim with both Armanno Zabini's items and Hermione's books. "This place is stifling. I don't understand how you can work with all this clutter."

"It's somewhat comforting to have a mess around me while I work," replied Hermione, flipping to page three hundred and ninety-four. "It reminds me of Ron and Harry."

Bill snorted. "You've seen the inside of Ron's room, that's for sure. At least this place isn't orange."

"Ah-ha!" Hermione exclaimed, turning her back to Bill and fumbling for her wand. She tapped the necklace with a murmured word. "It wasn't an Ever-Laughter Hex, it was a Jittery Jinx! But I haven't been feeling too stressed out today..."

"Probably only activates when you put it on," Bill remarked, looking over Hermione's shoulder at the necklace in her hands. She shivered at the heated breath on her cheek, and cleared her throat.

"Perhaps it does."

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing. Hermione kept her eyes on the necklace, trying to ignore her pulse pounding and that delicious feeling in her belly.

"Well." Hermione broke the silence with one word, tossing the necklace into a box labelled I'll Fix It Later. She stood, facing Bill. "Um...I think you have work to do back home, right?"

Bill shrugged, his hands in his pockets. "Doesn't mean I want to do it."

There was more silence. Hermione could practically hear the crickets chirping in her ears.

"He seems like a nice person," Bill offered. "Blaise, I mean."

"He is," Hermione agreed. "He's a little odd, though."

"Really?" Bill sounded interested. He gestured for her to go on. "How so?"

"Well...When I first started working, he was very business-like. Then he started warming up a bit, and we had actual conversations. But when I wanted to keep my conversation with Harry private, he acted as though I had committed some unholy sin." Hermione snorted. "He barely even spoke to me at Hogwarts."

"His loss," Bill murmured. Hermione flushed, ducking her head, and his lips curved into a smile.

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Hermione blurted out. Bill's smile died, and he looked worried.

"Why?"

"Because you obviously don't mean them, and I'm the girl you flirt with." The words fell out of Hermione's mouth before she could grab them out. No, no, Granger! Bad! Bad! "I just wish you wouldn't," she finished lamely.

"But I mean them," Bill pointed out. He had inched closer to her during their conversation, Hermione noticed. She wasn't sure if it was dread or arousal that was building up in her belly. "I do, Hermione. You're a nice girl."

"Well, thank you," Hermione managed to say. Bill's head dipped down to her neck, where he placed a kiss. She shivered. His hand drifted over to her hip, splaying his fingers. A sudden rush of goose bumps flowed over her body, and she swallowed.

"Let me kiss you," Bill whispered, his breath warm on the inside of her ear. Hermione turned towards him in reply, head tilted slightly sideways as their lips met.

Unbelievable.

His tongue was in her mouth, his fingers were sketching circles on her hip, there were sparks shooting down her spine...She dove eagerly into the kiss, pressing her body firmly against his, craving more of the contact. Bill complied, snaking his hand to the curve of her breast. She felt a hard length pressing into her belly, and felt a surge of delight--she had caused that.

Hermione forgot that she was in Blaise's uncle's home, that there were boxes of cursed objects around them, that she was kissing Bill Weasley, because, after all, he was such a damn good kisser...Alarm bells went off in her head. Ron's brother! Nearly old enough to be your father! She ignored them, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue.

Bill finally tore his mouth away from hers. His lips were red and swollen, and Hermione imagined that hers looked the same.

"Can we...can we take this someplace more...private?" he asked hoarsely, his thumb rubbing her breast lazily. Hermione's eyes glazed over at the thought. "I don't want to shag you amidst dust and books."

Instant anxiety shot down Hermione's throat. She swallowed, trying to ignore the buzzing sound in her ears and the sudden wetness in her palms. Her heart race increased, and there was an unexpected tightness in her throat.

"I...I...W-What?"

"You have a bedroom here, don't you?" Oh, sweet Jesus on toast, he was doing that thing with his thumb again--

"I--yes, I do..."

"Then lead me to it."

"I can't!" Hermione blurted out. Bill raised an eyebrow.

"I hardly think that Blaise will notice, Hermione. He was in his rooms when I Flooed in."

"I don't care about that," Hermione retorted. "I just...I liked kissing you, Bill, but I...I don't...I don't want to..."

"Don't want to have sex with me," Bill finished. He looked decidedly dejected at the thought, but shrugged as he dropped his hand from her breast. He shoved it into his pockets, looking very interested at a crack in the floorboard. "I'm sorry. You seemed like you wanted me, too--"

"I do, but..." Hermione held back a frustrated groan, trying not to grab her hair and yank it in irritation. "I'm attracted to you, yes, but...but I just--"

"Are you one of those girls that's saving themselves for marriage?" Bill interrupted, finally dragging his gaze to her eyes.

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "I'm not some innocent that needs an older man to show her the ropes of sex, if that's what you're thinking. Of course I've had sex! Would you like me to name them?"

"Er--"

"In chronological order: Ginny and I fooled around once. Ron. Terry Boot. Zacharias Smith. Fred. A bloke I met over the summer hols once. And a Muggle man that I dated last year," Hermione recited. Bill's cheeks were burning.

"I can understand Ron, but Ginny? And Fred? Since when are you shagging half my siblings?"

"Ginny and I didn't properly have sex. It was at Grimmauld Place, during Christmas, fifth year. We were both scared and nervous, and we needed some comfort. So we kissed a bit, did some touching."

Bill's mouth was forming incoherent words.

"Fred--we were drunk," Hermione answered his unspoken question. "Very drunk," she added. Bill shook his head, as though trying to remove the image.

"Er...Very well. You're not the innocent I presumed you to be. Er...sorry."

Hermione shrugged. "People assume."

Bill glanced at the door. "I'm going to leave now, because this conversation is horribly awkward. And I need to go someplace...er...private."

Hermione let the corners of her mouth twitch at that. Bill bent down to kiss her on the lips, and she turned so that his mouth landed on her cheek. He pulled away, nodding, then left the room.

Hermione stood there for a few minutes, her mind spinning uncontrollably.

Had she just told Bill Weasley a list of her sexual partners? Why had she suddenly turned into a name-spewing whore?

Oh, crap.

Hermione grabbed the book and necklace again, searching rapidly for an answer. When her eyes landed on the correct passage, she held back a groan of disappointment.

When using the Curse-Detector Spell, it is typical to confuse different curses, hexes, and jinxes. The De-Inhibitions Incantation, for example, is commonly mistaken for Jittery Jinxes. The former is unable to detect once it reaches the body, and takes twenty-four hours to completely disappear. However, it is often poorly cast, and the effects slips in and out of the body. Jittery Jinxes, on the other hand--

Hermione snapped the book shut, her chest heaving. No wonder she had turned into some sex kitten, returned to her normal, shy self, and then proceeded to list her sexual history. Hermione cringed. Her friendship with Bill was ruined now, she guessed. It's dead, Jim.

Rubbing her eyes, Hermione gazed around the room. It wasn't worth working on something if she couldn't concentrate. On the other hand, she had spent a month here in Italy, and it should have taken her three weeks.

It's not worth it, Hermione thought, deciding on the former. Besides, she needed something to eat--the dizziness that hit her as she climbed down the ladder was probably caused by lack of food.

Blaise, carrying a half-eaten piece of bread in his hand, was just leaving the kitchen as she entered it. He nodded at her in greeting, and then gestured to the table.

"Owl just came by and dropped something off for you," he said before ripping a chunk of bread with his teeth.

"Thanks," Hermione murmured as Blaise left. She approached the table nervously--another owl?

It was the same parchment that had delivered her earlier letter. The same clear, even handwriting. Hermione read it, her eyes wide.

Oh! when my lady comes,

And I with love behold her,

I take her to my beating heart

And in my arms enfold her;

My heart is filled with joy divine

For I am hers and she is mine.

Oh! when her soft embraces

Do give my love completeness,

The perfumes of Arabia

Anoint me with their sweetness;

And when her lips are pressed to mine

I am made drunk and need not wine.

Flushing a bright red, Hermione shoved the letter into her pocket. Another love note, this one about kissing. And when her lips are pressed to mine, I am made drunk and need not wine Hermione recited in her mind. It was a pretty line, she admitted.

Who's sending these blasted letters, anyway? This question tore Hermione's mind apart as she tried to figure out who it could be. She was slightly frightened, as she didn't know who it was. Yet, there was an aspect of it that was almost sweet.

But who the hell was it?

Shivering, Hermione began preparing her supper.