AN: A short mindless piece that I'm not sure if I like. Oh well, it's written now, so I may as well post it. As always, not my characters.
He's sitting under that tree again. Bill Weasley, oldest of the Weasley siblings, is moping down there, at the bottom of the garden. This time, though, it really is serious. I'd heard Fleur yelling at him, and then a few minutes ago she packed up all her belongings and left. Slowly, I make my way down to see him.
"She's gone, hasn't she?"
There's no point denying it, so I nod as I sit down next to him.
"I knew she would. She's frightened of me, especially around the full moon." He pauses, as if he doesn't really want to tell me, but then resumes speaking.
"Tell me, Hermione, have I changed since being bitten?"
I have to think hard, here. I've never really spent that much time with Bill.
"I suppose… you're more aggressive, when you wouldn't have been before. And you tend to eat steaks rare now. I think that's about all."
"Can I be honest with you, Mione?"
"Of course you can."
"Fleur left because I was… too forceful in bed with her." The infamous Weasley blush is beginning to appear. They all do it – Bill is no exception. I'm probably blushing too, I hadn't expected this.
"I wasn't, when we first met, but…"
"You don't, Hermione, you're not the one who has to live with it."
"No, but I've seen how the moon affects Remus's temper."
"People are afraid of me. They see the scars and shudder. You're different, though."
"Firstly, I knew you before it happened, and secondly, I've got a few bad scars myself. I don't let things like that bother me any more."
"I didn't know you had…"
"They're not in places I tend to display, Bill."
I don't know what made me do it, but I showed him my scars. One of them is on my chest, just below my bra, and it's a legacy from our trip to the Department of Mysteries in fifth year. The rest are in a clump at the top of my left thigh, and those were from the Battle of Hogwarts. I'm not ashamed of them, they prove I fought against Voldemort.
Unlike a lot of people, I'm not repulsed by Bill's scars. I know they're on his face, which is worse, but they don't change who he is.
My fingers are brushing his cheek almost before I realise, and he moans, pulling me close to him. Whatever he wants, I won't refuse. I don't protest when his lips meet mine, nor when he's pulling my clothes off. Unexpected though this is, I find myself wanting it. There's nothing gentle about what we're doing, it's raw, primal. Fucking, not making love. And, to my surprise, it's exactly what I needed. If Bill can put up with me, I'm never going to let him go. Ever.
"Hermione, I'm sorry." We're tangled together in the grass, and bruises are just starting to show on both of us.
"You're not disgusted with me?" He sounds surprised, hopeful.
There are, believe it or not, times when I don't want to talk, and this is one of them. Winding my hands into his long hair, I kiss him again. I'm his, and he's mine. Forever.
AN: Short, kinda sweet at the end. What did you think? Click the review button.