Authors Note: This is for Jazz E. Roisin, and is possibly my fifth attempt at writing her a now very belated birthday fic and has nothing to do with her original prompts. Still, it is better than nothing and also better late than never. I hope you like it. Happy Birthday Jazz!
Also, I have been busy being one half of The Golden Duo, along side angelically-devilish. Our first two fics are up and posted and our next two are well on their way to being finished. You can find the links through my profile!
One night was all it took for Bill Weasley to imprint himself on her soul. One night of angry, desperate, mind blowing sex and he had worked his way so far into her psyche that it wasn't just in the dead of night that she was jolted from erotic dreams of his marred body.
Hermione knew she was lost, knew she was ruined for other men for all eternity – but would she let Bill know that? No.
It had been a mistake, of that she was sure of. He was an older, experienced and very virile man; he was ruled by the moon and often couldn't be held accountable for his actions. Hermione however had no choice but to take responsibility for what had happened that night – she could have said no, she didn't have to give in so easily.
She was embarrassed more than anything, ashamed of her wanton behaviour. Bill had been avoiding her ever since and without a doubt he was having such trouble meeting her gaze because he was shocked that Hermione Granger could act the way she had. In her eyes she had become nothing more than a common whore.
So then why did her heart insist on pounding every time he entered the same room? Why did her head refuse to erase the images of his glistening body pounding into hers? She was almost afraid to admit it, but Bill Weasley had been more than a one night stand, much more.
It had been a routine visit; her last stop of the night spent distributing Wolfsbane to the local Were population. It was one of her many jobs as Junior Potions Mistress and one she held with great importance. It was also one of the most dangerous jobs around and she was unsurprised when the Potions Master she studied under had assigned her the almost suicidal task just a week into her apprenticeship.
Her job was relatively simple – visit the homes of known werewolves and ensure they took their dose of Wolfsbane to prevent the dementia that was known to occur during transformation – it was the day it occurred on that made it so dangerous. The full moon seemed to bring out the worst in ordinary witches and wizards, but in Lycanthropes it was always different.
Bill was no different, often lashing out at those around him. Hermione always saved the eldest Weasley son to last, more concerned for him because, unlike the others, his body was unable to transform. Bill seemed to take on a Jekyll and Hyde persona during the days where the moon was at its most pregnant, switching between his normal courteous friendly self to the much more dangerous, aggressive and admittedly charismatic wolf he held within.
Hermione got along with Bill twenty seven days of the month, finding him polite and interesting. They could swap stories about their week over Molly's frequent dinners at the Burrow, acknowledge each other with a friendly smile in the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley and even on the odd occasion swap books. Ever since Fluer had left him to return to her family, Hermione had known him to be a little less confident, but no less pleasant to be around.
However, for three days of the full moon Hermione didn't know what to make of him.
Bill often described being infected with Lycanthropy as being a vessel to something much stronger than himself. Although Hermione doubted this, there was no denying that the wolf was indeed a separate entity at times. Bill was still there, holding back on a lot of words and actions, but when he lost the fight and the wolf took over his brain it was a whole other story.
The wolf was charming – in a dangerous, randy and often offensive way – he knew what he wanted and searched relentlessly until he gained it. Hermione had lost count of the amount of times she had dropped by Shell Cottage after the full to find a sobbing woman fleeing the house.
Bill would later admit he had no recollection of bringing these women home, of anything that had occurred infact. He confided to Hermione that a lot of women left sobbing not because he had hurt them, but because he would wake up in the morning beside them and would be forced to kick them out. According to all sources, Bill Weasley was a bit of an animal in bed.
So there Hermione stood, staring up at the full moon, trying to convince herself that entering Shell Cottage was a good idea. She hadn't seen him since the last full, when she had stood and stared at the moon in much the same way she was now, tired from her seemingly endless rounds and looking forward to a soak in her tub and a glass of wine at home.
She remembered the sound of the door opening behind her, the quiet whisper of wind on the warm night, the bugs in the overgrown garden adding their voices to the symphony of the evening. He had stood silhouetted in the doorway, his long hair curling around his shoulders, and his face in shadows.
"Bill, I was just about to knock," she said, turning to smile at her friend feeling her heart pound at the sight of the handsome man. He didn't say a word, but stepped to the side, holding the door open for her patiently.
Bill was never very talkative with her during the full, so his behaviour wasn't that odd. She shivered as she passed him, the heat from his body radiating towards her. Swallowing hard, she opened her duffel bag and pulled out the last vial of Wolfsbane.
"Here, you better take this now so it has time to kick in," she smiled, holding out the potion, waiting for him to take it.
He stared down at her, looking into her eyes with his blazing ones, ignoring the vial altogether. Hermione's smile faltered as he stalked past her and into the kitchen.
"Bill?" she called, frowning and following him into the normally bright and airy kitchen. Nothing had changed since he and Fluer had first moved in, the cabinets were still a cheery yellow, the assortment of rarely used Muggle appliances stood in their respective homes. The only thing out of place was the dozen or so half drunk bottles of alcohol resting to one side of the sink.
Bill followed her gaze to the bottles, shrugging before turning to the cabinet that held the glasses, all gifts from his Aunt Muriel on his wedding day and now a sad reminder of what had been, "Whisky?" he offered.
Hermione felt herself blush as his deep gravelly voice washed over her. Just one word and she was almost a puddle of goo, "Wouldn't you prefer your potion?" she asked, placing the Wolfsbane beside the bottle of fire-whisky he was now heading for.
"What's the point? He's going to take over my brain anyway," Bill said, pulling the cork from the bottle with his teeth and sloshing a generous helping into two glasses, holding one out to her. Hermione took the glass reluctantly, holding its cool contents between both hands.
"Drink," he ordered, his voice becoming more of a growl. Hermione knew of his mood swings and debated whether she should just leave.
"Bill…" she started.
"Drink and… and I will take the potion," he coaxed, his tone taking on that of the beast, cajoling and charming, manipulating almost.
Hermione licked her lips before taking a sip, letting the fiery liquid burn its path down her throat. She watched him warily; torn between wanting to run for the hills and staying with him to make sure he was okay. He had never refused his potion before.
Bill seemed equally attentive, watching her sip and swallow with the single minded focus a predator shows its prey. She shivered and he noted the goose bumps decorating her flesh with a knowing, feral grin.
"I should leave," she said, her voice dropping to almost a whisper in the silent house.
"But I haven't taken my potion yet," he said, his own voice melding with that of his wolf, "you always wait for me to take it."
Hermione couldn't argue with him, and waited expectantly, finishing her drink in one gulp with a wince. Bill set down his glass deliberately, picking up the sparkling vial of potion and studying it in the light.
"Are you going to drink it, or stare at it?" she joked mildly, trying to bring back some of their usual easy to banter but even to her, her voice sounded strained and breathy. This side of Bill made her feel things she had no right to feel.
"I'll drink it if…" the wolf started, but Bill sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes shut, tamping down whatever it was his other half was trying to say.
"If?" she found herself question chewing on her lower lip, her brain screaming at her to get out but her body refusing to cooperate.
"You kiss me first," he whispered, taking the last two steps to stare down at her now quivering form.
She became acutely aware of just how much taller he was, towering over her five foot three frame with ease. She stared resolutely at his muscular chest, barely covered by the old black t-shirt she was sure he had owned since Hogwarts, and that now fit him like a second skin. Shaking her head she started to back away.
"Just one kiss, that is all I ask," the wolf cajoled, matching her step for step.
She suppressed a shudder and continued to back toward the door, "This isn't you," she whispered, tamping down the feelings she got when she truly wished it was Bill saying these words, "This isn't real."
Her back hit the wall beside the kitchen door with a dull thud, taking her by surprise. She could practically feel his low chuckle roll through her and followed the movement of his hand as he bought the vial of Wolfsbane to his lips and downed it in one swallow. She met his eyes as he lowered the glistening shaped glass and licked her lips nervously.
"Is this real enough for you?" he asked, taking that final step until his body pressed against hers.
He was all sharp angles and bulging muscles, the man did not have an ounce of fat on him. He moulded himself to every one of her soft curves as he dropped the vial to the floor with a crash and gripped her head between both of his calloused palms, preventing escape.
Hermione let out a low whimper moments before his lips pressed against hers. Her eyes fluttered closed as she gave in for one perfect moment. Her hands remained limp at her sides as his closed mouth moved over hers restlessly, his thumbs stroking her cheeks gently. The soft contact was not what she had been expecting and that was enough to jolt her out of the lust filled haze.
Bringing her hands up to press against his chest she tried to push him away. She felt him grin against her, but instead of stepping back he pressed in harder, his jean clad knee slipping between her thighs. She gasped and almost sagged with need against him but gathered her wits enough to push again. Bill responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth.
He tasted her, growling softly as his tongue made broad sweeps and tangled with her tongue. It was from there Hermione was lost, her hands sliding down his chest to rest at his waist, giving in as his fingers speared into her hair and inexplicably pulled her closer to him. She could hardly tell where she started and he began.
She knew, in the far recesses of her lust clouded brain that this should stop; that it was wrong and Bill wasn't aware of what he was doing; that in an odd way she was taking advantage of him. But turning her head away from his insistent kiss seemed like the hardest thing in the world right then so she gave up trying and just gave in.
Bill seemed to sense her wash of emotions – panic, confusion, heated lust – and answered each with a thrust of his tongue, nudging his knee up to meet the apex of her thighs and breaking down her final barriers. Hermione cried out against him, the sound muffled against his mouth as he continued to plunder.
He pulled one hand away, his lips never leaving hers as they staked their claim, and ran it down her neck, feeling the throbbing pulse point beneath his fingers. He stroked the flow of blood for a moment before travelling further down, grazing her shoulder, arm, waist, hip and finally thigh. With little patience he lifted her leg and hitched it around his hip.
Her hands left his waist, coming back up to his chest, but not to push him away this time; instead she gripped fistfuls of his shirt. Dropping her head back and panting she shivered uncontrollably as his lips dropped along her jaw, tasting the saltiness of her skin before dropping to the throbbing pulse point on her neck. She cried out again, the sound echoing through the kitchen this time as he suckled on the sensitive spot, hard enough to draw blood if he chose to.
He growled again, the low sound reverberating off her chest and seeping into her bones. She was taken by surprise when his other hand wrenched itself free from her tangled curls and came down to hitch her other thigh around him, his strong arms supporting her weight easily. She felt breathless and dizzy, overwhelmed by the older man as he swung her away from the wall and deposited her on the kitchen counter besides the half empty bottles.
Her shirt was over her head and her bra unclasped and thrown in the direction of the sink before she had time to emit a surprised squeal. His mouth unclasped from the sensitive and tender flesh of her neck, moving down the column of her throat before nuzzling between her full breasts. She gasped and tugged at his hair when his lips fell to her straining nipples, waves of pleasure emanating from where he touched her straight to her throbbing core.
His fingers seemed to follow the waves until he hit the two buttons of her skin tight jeans, he tugged at them impatiently as she toed off her shoes and between them they had the demin off her in record time. As soon as they were off she began tugging at the hem of his shirt, making a small tear in it before he chuckled and tugged it over his head revealing the long healed scars, breaking the hold he had on one nipple for only a moment before burying his head between her breasts once more.
Hermione gasped and writhed at the skin on skin contact, his body temperature so much hotter than the average human due to his condition. Her legs wrapped themselves around his waist once more, her heels digging into his lower back as he pressed his demin clad arousal against her damp centre. He growled once more, his patience shot the moment he felt her seeping heat against him.
Hermione gasped as she was tugged from the counter without warning. Bill turned her around so that she was facing the window, pushing on her shoulders until she bent over the counter, her cheek pressing against the cool marble surface. She shivered when he trailed a hand down her spine, dipping into the crease of her arse and taking her knickers with him, bending and tugging them down her legs so she could step out of them. She felt exposed and more aroused in her life standing in that position.
Bill was silent for a moment, stepping back from her. Hermione almost turned around to see what he was doing, but the sound of his fly being undone stopped her cold as she held her breath in anticipation. A moment of rustling and she felt him press against her again, naked now.
"Please," she pleaded weakly, forming her first words since he had kissed her, something that seemed like hours and not minutes ago.
He didn't reply, too far gone to do anything but growl in approval. He reached around her and grabbed both of her wrists, crossing and pinning them behind her back with one hand. His other palm was smoothing over the soft globes of her arse, slipping between her folds teasingly before pulling back. She whimpered softly, her cheek pressed hard against the counter as she waited him to do something before she exploded.
He seemed to sense how close she was, his fingers circling her once more, before pulling back and being replaced with something much thicker and blunter. His thrust was hard and deep; forcing little used muscles to yield and a cry so loud it reverberated off the tiled walls to sound from the witch beneath him.
Hermione was gasping by the time he began to thrust, her whole body one pulsing mass of aroused flesh that he tore into relentlessly, skipping any foreplay and striving for an end they both knew was in their sights. She was helpless but to stand there, her arms trapped behind her, her head supporting her upper half as he legs threatened to buckle.
When they did finally give way, after only a few minutes of powerful grunting thrusts from Bill, he let go of her arms and wrapped his body around her, his large palms cupping her breasts as he dripping torso moulded to her bowed spine.
This new angle almost overwhelmed her as he used his toned calved to thrust in and up into her, hitting a spot so sweet she saw stars. Hermione was beyond screams as she whimpered and cried beneath him, never wanting the exquisite torture to end. A half dozen thrusts later and her body tensed before she came apart in his arms.
Bill thrust through the tight sleeve of convulsing muscles, letting her milking claps wash over him as he felt his own end draw near. His hands left her breasts as he once again gripped her arms, drawing them above her head, his fingers entwined with hers. Neither noticed the dozen bottles of lethal liquid get knocked to the floor as the part lycan found his own sweet release in her body moments later.
Hermione flushed as she recalled how his animalistic cries filled the kitchen. She had been surprised afterwards though, when he had pulled her up from the counter, her legs finally giving way beneath her. Bill had swept her into his arms and carried her tenderly to his room, spending the rest of the night alternating between sweet love making and raw animal passion.
Now she stood, her back to the house she had viewed in the pre-dawn light, having slipped from his sleeping arms before he had had a chance to kick her out. What was one of the most perfect nights of her life was also one of the nights she would look back on with shame. What was worse though was that she couldn't hide her head in the sand, instead, she now had to relive her wanton behaviour once a month, he couldn't go without his potion.
"Hermione?" his soft voice inquired behind her, drawing her from her embarrassingly erotic thoughts.
She gulped and took several deep breaths, turning her back on the moon and facing him where he stood in the open doorway. Her breath whooshed from her lungs when she saw what he was wearing, those damn jeans and his old t-shirt, now with a hole near the hem where she had torn it in her haste.
"Bill," she sighed, unable to help the rush of emotions that flooded her at the sight of him. He was even better in person than in her seemingly endless dreams.
"I-I was afraid you wouldn't come," he stuttered, brushing a hand through his unbound hair restlessly.
Hermione opened and closed her mouth, wanting to pretend that last month hadn't happened, but unable to in the face of his awkwardness. She didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't lead her to walking into his arms again. Instead, she reached into her duffel and withdrew her last vial of Wolfsbane.
"Here," she choked, taking the two steps to the front door, her hand shaking as she held out the bottle. She kept her eyes glued to his chest, not trusting herself to meet his eyes.
His fingers brushed hers as he took the potion, taking out the stopper before downing it in one gulp. She watched his chest expand and deflate before accepting the bottle back, still unable to meet his eyes. She was about to turn to apparate away when his hand on her arm stopped her progress. She shivered at the contact.
"Please, look at me," he practically pleaded, his grip tightening just slightly but not enough to hurt. When he spoke to her like that Hermione couldn't deny him anything.
"I-" she tried to talk, but couldn't as her eyes met his. There was no sign of the wolf, and that scared her more.
"I've missed you," he started, his grip tightening again when she shook her head in denial and tried to pull away again. "No, please, here me out," he pleaded.
Hermione bit her lip, torn between jumping into his arms and running as far away as possible. One lapse of judgment was bad, but could be forgotten; twice would be unforgivable.
"I know you won't believe me…but…I remember…" he trailed off, his Adams apple bobbing up and down as he tried to gain what little composure he had managed for this conversation, "I remember everything."
She felt tears fill her eyes as the shame washed over her again, "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away from his eyes and sniffing to try and stop the irrational flood of tears that threatened to spill.
Bill let go of her arm, his hand reaching up to tip her chin to his, "I'm not," he said, his expression becoming fierce, but the wolf still held at bay, "It's all I have been able to think about, all I dream about, just you."
"Please don't" she whimpered, not wanting to handle the rejection when it came, the accusations that she had taken advantage of him in his weakened state.
"I can't help it. This is me Hermione, not some disease talking, me, Bill. I want you, I-I need you," his voice came out as a harsh whisper, washing over her in shivering waves, "and I need you to need me too."
"I do," she whispered sadly, the tears spilling unrestrained down her cheeks.
"No, I need you to understand," he continued, taking a deep breath, "I don't just need you tonight, I need you tomorrow and the next. Waking up to an empty bed showed me that and why I never saw it before…" he stopped suddenly and tipped her chin up even further. This time she was expecting his lips on hers.
Hermione's knees buckled just as he swept her into his arms. This time there were no regrets, no shame. This time there was very little doubt in her mind that he wanted this just as much as she did.
As Bill kicked the front door closed behind them and strode toward the bedroom with the single minded focus, Hermione realized that her month of torment had been for nothing. It seemed she had managed to imprint herself on his soul just as he had done to hers, and she had never been happier.
Thanks for Reading!