Title: Mating Dance
Music: Electric Feel - MGMT
Relationship: Hermione/Bill
Genre: Romance
Rating: NC17
Warning(s): Sexual Content
Word Count: 3,642
Summary: Much as he wanted to ignore the wolf that paced so impatiently inside him, he couldn't. Nor could he ignore the desire that wolf had for a witch he shouldn't but can't help wanting.

Mating Dance

The pub was overwhelmed with patrons, drunk witches and wizards grinding against each other like hormonal teenagers. His brothers were half-sodded, leaning against each other in their booth with a few too many empty firewhiskey shots lying about. With what little of the lycanthropy gene Bill had been infected with, it seemed getting drunk was harder and harder. Given that of all the men he sat with he should be the one most in need of drowning himself in alcohol, he rather detested that fact.

Six months he'd been in self-imposed exile. He threw himself into work so he wouldn't have to focus on life as it were. He was exhausted, mentally rather than physically. Drained was an apt description of the once outgoing and dangerous eldest Weasley brother. He'd ignored letter after letter from his family as his mother searched for reasons and explanation. Couldn't she understand that perhaps the reasons were what had him depressed and alone? That telling her anything wasn't going to change the fact.

Never the type of crowd to let things be, his brother's had shown up and declared that his wallowing would be over as of tonight. They didn't hound him with questions, which was much appreciated, but instead told him that tonight would be a night drunken revelry and he had to say in whether he'd participate or not. They dragged him out of the cottage and along for the ride. So now, here he sat, with three brothers of equal drunkenness and not eager to stop anytime soon. Fred and George sang a merry tune that he was fairly certain had been made up of gibberish only the two of them understood. Charlie laughed riotously at them, lifting his mug in appreciation of their awful singing and nodding every once in awhile in Bill's direction as if to tell him to lighten up and just enjoy himself.

He couldn't, however. Without work to distract him he had only one thing on his mind and how one abrupt change in his life had opened doors they ought not have.

Fleur had left him. Said the spark had dimmed and she wasn't happy any longer. He couldn't disagree, didn't even stop her as she packed her things and left for her parents place in France. Instead, he'd taken it all as if he'd been waiting for it to happen. The spark had been missing entirely too long. Any affection between them had begun to feel perfunctory shortly after the scars had shown they weren't fading anytime soon, and only got worse with each full moon that came to pass. Much as Fleur had spoken about how she still loved him, he didn't feel it like he once had, and neither did he reciprocate it as he'd done in the past either. It seemed he'd changed more than anyone expected, not only on the outside but the in as well.

However, it wasn't the loss of his wife that had him on edge, in need of a stiff drink that would do more than burn on the way down and then have absolutely no following effect. Instead it was the fact that with Fleur gone there was nothing to stop him from going after what his inner-wolf so desired. Much as he fought it and he'd done well so far, it continued to gnaw at him. This new Bill Weasley knew what he wanted, even if he didn't want to want it.

As if a beacon had gone out, drawing her to him at his most vulnerable time, she entered the pub with an extra skip to her step. Hips swaying, thick hair following, she came toward him with a wide grin that made his gut clench in reaction. The closer she got, he swore he could feel her presence on his skin, like a prickling sensation that was both uncomfortable and entirely too seductive. The hairs rose up on the back of his neck and the beast inside him paged with agitation, wanting and being denied again and again.

She took one look at the drunken lot he sat with and shook her head. "Do I want to ask?"

He let out a muffled noise, something he was certain weren't words at all.

She quirked her brow, eyes turning down to see how much he might've imbibed.

"I'm completely sober," he told her, his voice raspy.

He swore he saw her shiver. Her pink tongue peeked out seconds later to wet her lips, eyes turning away and not catching his shudder of desire.

She started shrugging off her jacket, revealing a burgundy top that hugged her breasts entirely too nicely. He was tempted to growl at the men around him, as if to make sure they all knew she was off-limits. Instead, he cleared his throat and turned his face away. His body tensed when moments later she'd leaned across him to drop her jacket on the seat next to him. Her sweet feminine scent invaded his senses, unmarred by various perfumes and lotions. He couldn't help but breathe her in, grinning satisfactorily.

When she drew back, she was staring at him as if she knew something he didn't. With a thoughtful face, she announced, "I'm going to dance." And with that, she turned and made her way toward the floor overfilled with men and women rubbing against one another for satisfaction. Uncaring, she stood alone, moving her body along to the beat and closing her eyes as she fell into the appealing music.

His hands clenched, blunt nails digging into the table.

"Try no' t' scare the poor girl, brother," Charlie slurred at him, winking.

Not bothering to wonder how Charlie had known, Bill bared his teeth fiercely. "She brought it on herself." A moment later, he knocked back a shot and joined her on the floor, wrapping his arms around her small body and yanking her back against him like a man possessed. Without pause, her hips had drawn his into a seductive sway and rock movement that had logic running far, far away. His large hand swept her hair onto one side as he buried his face against her shoulder, his tongue licking the crook of her neck. Wrapping her arms back around him, she let out a low groan.

Something snapped inside and any notions he'd once had about letting this attraction to her dim had completely disappeared. The wolf inside him merged with the man and the both of them wanted nothing more than to take this delicious witch and keep her. His hands swept from her shoulders down her body, any reservations he'd once had were lost as baser instincts decided to take and enjoy. His large palms cupped her breasts helplessly before squeezing her ribs on their way further down and finally settling possessively on her hips. Any minute now, he expected her to whirl around in all of her righteous indignation and tell him he'd gone too far. And the wolf almost wanted that outburst if only to shout his own irritation, seeing as he felt he had all the right to want and have her. Instead, she let a hand fall and covered his with her own, their fingers threading. And perhaps her seeming agreeable attitude was better in this instance.

Her eyes fell shut, long lashes brushing flushed cheeks, and her head slid back to lay comfortably against his shoulder. He could smell as sweat began to bead against her skin; the warmth of all the bodies so close together was making her body react naturally. Flashes of perspiration along naked skin rose in his mind; droplets sliding down between the sweet valley of her breasts. He wanted to lick them away, taste the salt of her as she lay before him, desperately wanting his tongue everywhere.

His hands tightened, his body going rigid as his mind fell victim to the hormones of the night. He could smell the desire for sex all around him, coming off her as well as near everyone else in the room. The wolf inside him hated the other males in near vicinity; the man in him could care less as long as she kept swaying against him like she was. While her bum moved to and fro, she not-so-innocently rubbed herself against his aching groin.

With a growl from low in his throat he leaned down and bit the tendon that connected along the hollow of her throat, suckling and licking her as his teeth dented but didn't break her skin. She whimpered, her fingers sliding into his hair, tightening and tugging on him for more. He wanted all of her; he wanted to shout to anyone listening that she was his and no others. Possessiveness had never been an overwhelming trait of his, not until she came along and woke up the animal inside. Caged and angry that he couldn't fully satisfy himself during the moon, his wolf would not be ignored on what he could and would have. A worthy mate for both him and the human he lived inside; a lifelong partner that accepted and enjoyed every part of him, whether he himself did or not.

The smoke of the pub thickened and for a moment, he could convince himself there was nobody but the two of them and the faint sound of lusty music forcing their hands and bodies into a mimicry of sex. A haze blurred the outside of his vision until all he saw was her; his body thrummed and quaked all for her. Her hips rolled, her arms tightened, her breasts hefted high with each thick breath she drew in. There was no logic invading his mind; no voices reminding him of his duty. She and Ron hadn't been together for three years and his little brother had long ago moved on. His mum had been searching out a good fit for the young woman she considered like a second daughter ever since. There was a list a mile long, of his own making, filled with all the reasons he wasn't that good fit. But she didn't remind him of any of those pitfalls now, not while she rubbed herself up and down him so deliriously.

She bit her plump pink lip, sucked it into her mouth and dragged her hand down his neck, her fingers scraping and clawing at him as if trying to draw him out of himself and into her.

He kissed up her throat, nuzzled the shell of her ear and nibbled the line of her jaw before he caught her chin in his hand, held tight, and tipped her head back until she was forced to look up at him. He was absolutely certain that the intense expression on his face held nothing but raw desire and she met it with one of her own. He took her lips, didn't wait or tease or even ask permission as he might've when he was younger. He captured her lips and he sunk into the kiss like a man starved for love. He could feel her swallow as his hand deftly stroked the length of her neck, could feel her body shudder and lose its rhythm as she fell lost in him.

He suckled her tongue into his mouth, his teeth nibbling and trapping it for his tasting. He devoured her, sucking the breath directly from her lungs as he licked and enticed every corner of her mouth. And all the while, she melted in his arms, her knees going limp. He held her up, fingers deftly cupping her arse and lifting her until her tiptoes barely touched the ground. She quivered against him, her eyes dazed as they opened to watch him. When he drew away, they were both panting, and the bar slowly came back into his vision. His brother's were gone, he could only hope they didn't try apparating their drunk arses home. The other dancers had separated from them slightly, as if giving them their own space.

She stared up at him with a near sated expression on her face; her lips full with satisfaction.

He grinned smugly before wrapping his arms around her tightly. "Hold tight."

Her brow furrowed but she didn't have time to ask why before he'd side-along apparated them back to his home. It was near-empty as Fleur had named nearly everything as hers and left without preamble. Nothing but the bed and a stack of his clothes were left in the bedroom and he accidentally kicked those over when he stumbled into it with Hermione held in his arms, her legs wrapped around his waist.

He laid her out flat on her back, his hands gripping her thighs as he knelt between them. She reached up, hands shaking ever-so-slightly, and undid the leather strap holding his hair back. She ran her fingers through long red tresses before letting those same fingers trace each scar that ran down his face. He still, waited for the revulsion, despite the fact that even his pride wouldn't end this moment. She smiled instead as if she were lovingly caressing the most handsome of men.

He had to have her then, more than ever before.

His brows furrowed as though with pain before he leaned down and pressed their foreheads together, sucking in air to center himself and his painfully thudding heart.

Her hot breath stuttered against his lips, warming him down to his very toes. "Don't make me wait," she murmured pleadingly.

He cupped her cheeks, thumbs stroking her thick hair back from her temples. "I'm done waiting."

Agreeably, she began pushing at his shirt, trying to tear it from his shoulders impatiently.

His palm ran down the front of her and wandlessly banished her clothes from her. She wasn't the least bit uncomfortable with her sudden nakedness, instead cocking a brow at him and pursing her lips. "Next time, I'll show you just how fun it can be to get undressed the muggle way."

The promise in her voice made his stomach tighten.

He kissed the bridge of her nose before he mindlessly cast his clothes away and dragged her thighs high up on his hips. "We have all the time in the world to teach each other everything," he rasped before cradling her sweet, soft body in his arms and holding her aloft, so close and yet so far.

She wiggled, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her desperate heat drawing nearer to his painfully wanting tip, the length of him raised up impatient for her heat. Her fingers tangled in his hair and gripped his shoulder. "Now, please…" Her eyes fluttered. "Bill, please…"

He wanted to give her more, wanted to make this moment last a lifetime; to caress every inch of her body from head to toe and bury his mouth in each hidden crevice. But his body ached for her, the wolf clawing from the inside to have her, claim her. And just as insistent, she was kissing his lips, rocking herself against him. He growled, low in his throat, and she stilled, as if she heard, understood, the wolf crying out for her. Her eyes opened, met his, and just as he lifted up and imbed himself deep inside her tight, wet, hot sheath she dragged her tongue along his scars.

He was incapable of holding back. Raggedly, he held her still as he lifted himself high in the air, hips thrusting, the hard length of him filling her to the brim. The sweat she'd accumulated from the bar mixed with that of their lovemaking as her body shook and fought against wave after wave of impending orgasm. Her mouth hung open as she gasped and writhed, panting his name like an endless chant. Her nails scored his shoulders, hands holding tight to him as she spread her legs further, let herself be taken by him.

The spark inside him that had long diminished between he and his wife was now flaring anew, so bright and hot it made what he and Fleur had pale in comparison. Hermione threw her head back, arched for him and whimpered as his mouth encased her small breast, suckling and nipping at her nipple in tandem with his hard thrusts inside of her. She tasted so sweet, so supple as he let the beast inside of him out to play.

He leaned her back until she lay on the bed once more and he gripped her thighs in rough hands as he tilted her hips to meet his. Unable to reach him, unwilling to fight against the new position, she cupped her breasts in her hands, thumbs stroking rosy nipples, still wet and tender from his mouth. A flush rose along her body, mixing with the red burns of his faint whiskers against her skin.

She whimpered and cried, words no longer available to her, as she rocked herself needily toward him, desperate for all he could give. Wanton and unhindered, she showed no restraint, receiving him as equally as her lungs would air. He stroked her legs and thighs, squeezed and gripped her like stability in a tornado of passion. He kissed all along her legs, teeth scraping along her skin as he nibbled and nipped at her affectionately. He was mindless with desire, and all of it was centered on pleasuring her.

He watched her come twice, roaring his pleasure at seeing her fly off the handle from him. His fingers stroked her folds, rubbed her clit, and massaged feeling back into her thighs as she begged for more all the while rasping for it to end, tears glistening in her eyes as she lay before ecstasy itself. He worked her tiny little body into exhaustion, her hair hanging in damp curls around her head. She could hardly take anymore when he finally gave in, leaning back across her, capturing her lips and quickening the movement of himself inside her until finally, thank Merlin, he shouted her name as his climax washed over him with tremendous power.

Powerless, boneless, he fell on top of her, face buried against her throat as he fought to catch his breath. He could still feel her quivering around him; her body too shook as she helplessly came crying his name. Breathless, she held tight to him, fingers stroking his shoulders while her lips kissed his hair. He couldn't move, wasn't sure he wanted to, but he smoothed his lips against her throat all the same.

There was a moment of clarity when his body tightened and his mind came back into sharp logic.

"Shh…" she murmured, shaking her head. "Try not to think so much." She sighed against him, arms tightening as if she feared he might run away. "We'll figure it all out in the morning." Her yawn followed and his eyes felt heavy with exhaustion.

When she wiggled beneath him he knew his weight was likely too much and the way they were sprawled sideways along the bed wouldn't be comfortable as soon as the numbness wore off his limbs. He reached down deep inside himself for what little strength might be left and pulled himself off of her, wrapping a heavy arm around her waist and dragging her along with him as he made his way to lay lengthwise in the center of the bed. He cradled her close, drew the sheet up around them and closed his eyes as he inhaled the lingering scent of her hair.

Her fingers absently stroked his chest as she snuggled close, their legs tangling automatically.

"Bill…" she whispered, "I want you to know… if this is just the moon, or… or the wolf, I… I understand."

Her voice wobbled despite herself.

"Now who's thinking too much?" he mumbled, tightening his grip on her. "Moon or not, love, I've wanted you a long while…"

He physically felt her relief at that and his mouth quirked as if suddenly realizing how foolish he was. She wasn't like the others, wasn't like his wife, she didn't think or act like most of the women in his life. Why wouldn't she be different in this respect as well? Six months he'd fought this, longer if he admitted to himself that he hadn't been resilient to the wolf's desire during his doomed marriage.

Sighing tiredly, he kissed her temple. "We've a lot to figure out…"

She nodded.

"Like whether she would live in my place or yours."

Her head shot up, whiskey eyes wide with surprise.

He smirked, stroking loose curls from her face. "Moving too quickly?"

She laughed lightly. "Compared to how slow you were previously, I'm not sure if I should encourage you or not," she said teasingly, her nose wrinkling with humor.

He kissed the freckles that seemed to stand out all the more with the blush of her face and dragged her back down into his embrace. Come morning, they would figure it all out and more than likely logic would have them try things out more sedately; like with a traditional date perhaps. However, he already knew, as did the now sated animal inside him, that come what may, the decision had been made. She was his and he would keep her, whatever it took.

He stroked her neck where he'd previously bitten lightly, the skin bruising faintly where his teeth had dug in. One day, when she was ready, he wouldn't hold back and she'd bare his mark proudly. Hermione Granger, most brilliant witch of her age, mated to a semi-werewolf for eternity. Breathing in her soft scent and holding tight to her small, curvy body, he grinned. He looked forward to their future.