Bill handed the chart back to the Healer. "That isn't a good idea. As you can tell"—he gestured at his bloody robes—"the war is still being fought. I was expecting an emergency when they summoned me. Maybe you aren't aware—"

"I've read today's Prophet. I have a perfectly good idea of what's going on. Athens is going to fall soon, whether you're there or not. Don't you dare use that as an excuse for holding me against my will." His throat bobbed as she stepped into him, jabbing her finger at his chest. "Tell me why the man who Stunned me against my will has been given responsibility for my care when his brother or sister would be far more suitable—"

"That's enough, Hermione." Bill's mouth was hard, but his eyes filled with some strange emotion. "I know this must be difficult for you, but you're not well. Neither Ginny nor Ron can handle seeing you like this."

"Like what, exactly? I'm not sick!"

Her voice rattled through the antechamber of St. Mungo's, drawing the attention of every visitor, Healer, and patient.

Her chest was heaving as Bill turned his eyes back on her chart. "Have you started the testing?" he murmured to Tamor.

"Not yet—"

"What testing?" Hermione felt unsteady again. "If I'm being 'tested' for something, I have a right to know what."

"It's part of your treatment," Bill said softly. He stared over her ear for a moment, avoiding her eyes. "Hermione, I'm sorry. Truly. We can explain in time, but please, just try to cooperate for now." Hermione's head jerked back. He gently grasped her shoulder. "I may not be Ginny, or Ron, but all of us just want the best for you. I hope you believe that."

Panic began clouding her vision. "Bill, just take me with you. Discharge me to your care if you're worried. I'll go with you to Greece. I can't stay here any longer—"

"That's not in my power, Hermione."

A icy chill raced down her spine. She stared at his face, his eyes identical to Ron's, the curve of his mouth just like Ginny's. And she knew he wasn't lying.

She swallowed, her eyes roving wildly as Bill gripped her other shoulder, saying something to calm her. She wouldn't be kept here against her will.

She wouldn't.

The portly Healer's wand was sticking out of his coat pocket. He wouldn't be quick to draw.

Her fingers twitched as she breathed deep, focusing on summoning her magic.

No buzz in her veins, no hum across her skin.

The flow in her veins… was gone.

Bill looked at her sadly.

"You suppressed my magic?" she whispered. Her eyes pricked. "Bill… you let them take my magic?"

Bill released her shoulders and exhaled sharply. He ran a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Hermione. It's just a precaution while you're healing."

Healing.

She couldn't run. She couldn't Apparate. No magic. They may as well have inked her arm again and tied her to the property.