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hp_bunintheovenTitle: A Happiness Never Intended
Author/Artist: maraudersaffair
Pairing(s): Hermione/Bill
Prompt: Self prompt
Summary: One night Hermione and Bill shag at the Burrow. Then Hermione discovers she is pregnant. The sex is brilliant between them, but Bill is newly separated from Fleur, and Hermione isn’t sure having a baby with Bill is the best choice.
Word Count: 4500
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Contains: Self esteem issues, references to abortion, slight angst, HEA, slightly semi-public sex
Notes: A big thanks to my beta, Lena!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Hermione never meant to sleep with Bill Weasley. She never meant to develop feelings for him, or to think about him every day, every hour. She never meant to kiss him, or to let him touch her. She never meant to end up beneath him, with him deep inside her, so deep inside her.
It had happened after a Sunday roast, after the rest of the Weasleys had Floo’ed home or gone up to bed.
Molly and Arthur still invited Hermione over for family dinners. It was very kind of them to include her. She hadn’t been with Ron for a few years now, but she was still best mates with Harry and Ginny and their children. The family still enjoyed her company. Ron had mostly moved on; he was now dating Pansy Parkinson and absolutely loving it. Hermione was happy that he was happy.
Bill was newly separated from Fleur. He was staying at the Burrow, helping Molly and Arthur with the gnome-infested garden, running errands to Diagon Alley, cleaning and organising parts of the Burrow that hadn’t seen a Scourgify in decades. He was sharing parenting responsibilities with Fleur, but little Victoire wasn’t present that night. Hermione was sure things would have gone quite differently if she’d been around.
Bill hadn’t been drunk, Hermione remembered. He had only sipped pumpkin juice during dinner. Hermione had only a glass of water. Looking back, Hermione almost wished she could have blamed it on intoxication; but the truth was Hermione had wanted it; she had been desperate for it.
That night, Bill wouldn’t stop looking at Hermione. It was a problem. They sat across from each other at the family dinner table, eating their beef and potatoes, savouring the treacle tart (Molly made it all the time for Harry).
Hermione felt warm all over. She forced herself to take slow, easy bites before glancing up at Bill. Every time she looked she found his eyes on her. He smiled softly at her. He didn’t cut his gaze away, but he didn’t ogle her either. In truth, he seemed almost apologetic. Hermione knew he was self-conscious of the scars on his face; she had even overheard him describe himself as damaged, but Hermione found the scars quite becoming. She found them sexy.
After dinner, the family moved to the lounge. Arthur started a crackling fire and Molly served them little cups of coffee. Harry and Ron fell into a chess match, and Ginny and Charlie went outside to chuck a battered old Quaffle around. George took the children to a comfy corner to read them a story.
It left Hermione and Bill alone sitting on the same settee and Arthur and Molly stationed in front of the fire in their cushioned chairs. Arthur asked Hermione about the Ministry (he’d retired a few years back and was eager for office gossip). Molly asked Bill about where he was in the project of de-gnoming the garden. Bill had taken a break from working as a Curse Breaker, but he was set to return to his work the following week. It was important that the garden be rid of gnomes before then.
As they spoke, Hermione couldn’t help but be very aware of Bill sitting next to her. She felt his warmth, smelled his cologne. He’d put some effort into his appearance, his face clean-shaven, his red hair combed and neatly tied back.
He seemed to be aware of her as well. He didn’t look at her, not really, but his body was turned to her almost subconsciously. It made her stomach flutter.
Suddenly Bill addressed her: “Are you still working with Jackson Barley? He was a good bloke when he was at Gringotts.”
“I am,” she said, trying to meet his blue gaze and not blush. Bill really did have lovely eyes.
For some reason, Arthur and Molly both remembered they needed something in the kitchen at that moment and left Hermione and Bill alone.
Bill watched them retreat, frowning. Hermione laughed, but she really didn’t know what was going on. She laughed because she was nervous.
Bill gave her another one of his soft smiles. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember why I decided to move back in with my parents.”
“You wanted to help them … spend more time with them.”
“Yes.” He looked down at his lap, frowning again. His eyes were almost sad. “I thought I would find some needed stability here, too. Some needed comfort.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Partially.”
The night progressed and the family began to take their leave. Harry and Ginny were the last to leave, and little Lily had a bit of a tantrum when they woke her up from her slumber in front of the fire.
Then Arthur and Molly went up to bed, and Hermione and Bill were left truly alone. They relaxed against the settee. Bill stoked the fire and Hermione sighed as she felt the soft heat lick her cool face. Outside the lounge window, quiet snow began to fall.
Quite unexpectedly, Bill removed a pipe from his pocket. “Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
Bill lit the pipe with his wand, and took a deep pull of smoke. He blew it out away from her, but it wasn’t necessary. The smoke smelled amazing - like toasted almonds and sugar-licked cherries.
“Fairy tobacco,” Hermione said, taking a deep breath. “It truly smells magical.”
Bill laughed. “I grew up with an uncle smoking this stuff all the time. His pipe always smelled like a lemon bar.”
“The scent almost makes me want to pick up the habit.”
“Would you like to try it?” Bill offered the pipe to her. “It’s not as lethal as the Muggle stuff but you shouldn’t smoke it everyday.”
Hermione took the pipe and wrapped her lips around its end. A small thrill went through her: the wood was a bit wet with Bill’s saliva. As she inhaled, Bill watched her face avidly.
Hermione grimaced and tried not to cough. “It burns,” she wheezed.
Bill laughed. “Yeah … but do you pick up the fruity notes?”
“Not really.” Hermione coughed and took a sip of her coffee.
Bill rubbed her back, his palm burning through her jumper. “I’m sorry I suggested it. Would you like me to Summon a glass of water?”
She swallowed some more coffee. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” There were tears on her cheeks. Bill touched her chin gently, turning her to him. He brushed away the tears with a warm thumb. The action released something inside her.
Surging forward, Hermione grabbed his wrist and pinned it down. He jerked and she saw an apology forming on his lips. Before he could speak, she kissed the scar tissue just above the right corner of his mouth.
She didn’t let herself think.
Bill’s breath stuttered. Encouraged, she followed the scar across his cheek with her lips. When she met jagged skin, she used her tongue to taste the old pain there. She was desperate to soothe him.
“Oh,” he said.
She raised her head to gaze into his eyes. The blue had turned dark and stormy, his lids heavy. He wanted her. She saw it plainly.
Without breaking eye contact, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zip. He let out a pant. When her hand wrapped around his stiffy, his head fell back, his lips parted.
She leaned close to drag her mouth down his throat. She stroked him slowly, almost teasing him. His hips jerked.
They were really doing this. She was really doing this.
“Tell me if I’m not the one you want and I’ll stop,” she said.
Bill resurfaced from his euphoria. He blinked at her, his face flushed red. “I’ve wanted you for years,” he said, voice so soft. “I didn’t think - you were with - I was older.”
Hermione sucked the vulnerable skin on his throat. She licked his bottom lip, biting down. Her hand still stroked him. “Do you want me to suck you?”
“Oh,” he said, breath catching.
She swiped her thumb over his head, gathering the wet there. “Is that a yes?”
Bill’s eyes had turned impossibly dark. “Yes,” he said.
Taking pity on him, she leaned down and dragged her tongue up his shaft. His skin felt velvety against her tongue. He groaned and his hips jerked again.
She took him into her mouth, whirling her tongue around his head. Moaning, she bobbed her head, going slowly, taking her time to taste him. His hands curled into fists. He still held back, his control on the verge of crumbling.
She felt herself getting wet as she sucked him. She sneaked a hand into her knickers to work her throbbing clit. He noticed what she was doing, and moaned again.
“Fuck - Hermione.”
Then she went deep, taking him until he breached her throat. He gasped and thrust, choking her a little. She stayed down, letting him feel the wet tightness of her throat. Moaning, he buried his hands in her wild hair.
“Merlin.” He urged her up so he could kiss her. She opened her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own. She wanted him to taste himself. They kissed hotly for a moment, then he drew back. “Can I touch you?”
She nodded eagerly. She slipped his hand into her knickers. He groaned when his finger slid between her wet lips. Finding her clit, he watched her face as his thumb worked her over.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Do you like this?”
“Yes,” she said, then thought about his parents just upstairs. She bit her lower lip. “I like it so much.”
“I want you, Hermione.”
“Yes.”
“Right now.”
“Yes, Bill.”
He pulled her closer, then urged her onto her back. Somehow she found herself pinned beneath him on the settee, the fire still crackling warmly. His eyes were very dark as he stared down at her. His scars reflected the light of the fire. She felt his erection pressing needily between her thighs.
She reached up to draw a finger over the worst of his scars, mapping out its terrain on his freckled face. The skin turned jagged where Greyback’s claws had really dug in. He tried to turn away, but her hand captured his chin.
“No,” she said, then urged his face closer. She dragged her tongue along the same path her finger took. He groaned deeply and thrust against her soaked knickers.
“Hermione.” It sounded like a plea.
“Anything.” She wiggled out of her knickers, kicking them off. She guided his hand to her slickness. “I want you so much.”
Some last shred of control broke in him. He parted her thighs roughly; he put his mouth on her, sucking, lapping. She surged up, overwhelmed by the sensation. She shoved a fist into her mouth to muffle her cry.
Bill sucked and nibbled her clit, then went lower to penetrate her with his tongue. She was so wet for him, so damn wet. Her hands found his long red hair; the fire highlighted the silver strands. A finger joined his tongue, and she tugged his hair, needing so much more.
“Please,” she said, writhing against his mouth. His finger and tongue felt good, so good, but she wanted to be filled; she wanted him to command her.
He knelt a little as he yanked at his trousers. Her trembling hand helped him shove down his underpants; his stiffy was big, heavy in her palm. She widened her thighs even more, stroking him, urging him to put it in her, just put it in.
“Are you sure?” He was panting, his gaze glittering.
“Yes.” She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything more.
Groaning, Bill thrust inside her. She gasped, her thighs squeezing together. Her hands scrambled for purchase. He was gentle and she was wet, so wet, but the penetration hurt. It made her mind go absolutely blank.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Bill.”
“I - oh, fuck.” Trembling, he kissed her neck.
“Yes.” She arched and breathed out, trying to relax.
He pulled out a little, then pushed back in. Her breath caught. He did it again, then again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. She was panting in his ear.
“Hermione,” he moaned. “I can’t believe -”
“Shh,” she said, speaking nonsense. “Shh, Bill. Yes. Now. Please.”
He thrust harder, going deeper. She shivered. She was opening up for him, relaxing. There was still pain but it was good, so good. She felt like she wanted to cry.
“I’m going to do it,” he murmured.
“Do it.”
Groaning again, he quickened his hips. He fucked her hard, both of them trying not to make sound. His bollocks smacked against her flesh.
She grabbed his arse, feeling him flex as he thrust. She bit his shirt, overwhelmed, unable to catch her breath.
He pounded into her, the settee skipping against the floor. They made sure not to hit the wall.
He kissed her, and they both tasted of desperation. “I’m going to come.”
“Do it, Bill.”
“Please,” he whimpered.
“Yes, I want it.” She writhed, tugging at him. She wanted his everything.
“Please,” he said again, his voice catching. His thrusts lost rhythm, his hips jerking. He thrust hard into her; he stilled, shaking, his soft moans continuous. She felt him coming inside her, a pounding warmth. His hips jerked again as he emptied himself so deep within her.
She was shaking when he pulled out. She hadn’t come yet and wondered if he would roll to his side and fall asleep. But then he put his mouth on her again, and she had to muffle a cry that was louder than before.
He worked her clit with his thumb as he ate her eagerly. She thrust up, riding his mouth. When her orgasm hit, it consumed her entirely; she clenched up, her eyes rolling back, her mouth falling open.
When it was all over, she was trembling even harder. He pulled her closer and buried his nose in her hair. “You are perfect,” he murmured.
She couldn’t stop trembling. She still throbbed between her thighs. “You are so sexy,” she murmured back.
Bill laughed. He kissed her cheek. Then he rested his head against her shoulder. After a few minutes, he was asleep.
A little while later, she escaped from beneath him. She found her knickers on the floor, then righted her clothes. She looked at him one last time before leaving.
Not a sound came from upstairs.
*
A month passed. Hermione stayed away from the Burrow, made excuses to miss Sunday dinners, avoided the subject of her absences with Harry and Ginny. Part of her wished Bill would reach out but he didn’t. She supposed he regretted sleeping with her. She didn’t regret it, not at all. But she felt embarrassed, confused. She didn’t know if pursuing a relationship with Bill was the right thing to do.
Then she missed her period, and everything changed. Somehow she knew. The realisation hit her in the middle of dinner. She was perched in front of her telly, going to town on Thai takeaway. She felt fatigued, a little achy. She thought perhaps it was merely symptoms from her delayed cycle, but no. She knew. She remembered how Bill hadn’t pulled out. In the moment, it had been the best thing ever, but now it seemed like a terrible oversight.
Her fork dropped from her hand.
She stared at nothing for a long moment, then set her meal to the side.
She had to know right now. Best to face the facts as soon as possible.
Shutting off the telly, she Summoned her enormous spellbook. It was leather-bound, dog-eared, and pockmarked by teacup rings. She flipped through until she came across the pregnancy detection spell. She read over the directions, then nodded to herself. Right. It seemed easy enough.
Hand shaking, she cast the spell. White light issued from her womb; it spun in the air like a glowing orb. She held her breath. When the light turned purple, Hermione nodded again to herself. She was pregnant. The spell had merely confirmed what she had already known.
Hermione ended the spell and stood on shaky legs. She needed to think. She needed to not panic. She looked down at her takeaway but she was no longer hungry. She decided to take a walk.
Outside the day was cold, the sun hiding behind a few clouds. Her London neighbourhood was surprisingly quiet. She walked briskly, her thoughts chaotic. She passed a few people but she didn’t see their faces. At one point she tripped on a bit of rubbish on the pavement.
Right. She was pregnant. And if she didn’t do anything about it, she would have Bill Weasley’s child.
Hermione laughed to herself. She had always thought she would have children with Ron, especially after Harry and Ginny had settled down. And after she’d broken up with Ron, she never thought she would have a child who was half Weasley. She used to be a little sad about it. She loved the Weasleys. They were a great family and they would’ve loved her and Ron’s children. But Bill wasn’t Ron and he already had a child.
She wanted to be a mother, but not like this.
Oh, hell, Hermione thought. She charged forward, needing to be in motion. She didn’t want to cry. If she stopped walking she would cry.
The peculiar thing was that she liked Bill loads more than she ever liked Ron. Ron had always felt like a safe choice, a comfortable choice, even when they’d been dramatic teenagers. It was one of the reasons why Hermione had ended things with him. She loved him like a best friend, not like someone who made her heart thump with desire.
She wanted Bill in a way she’d never wanted Ron.
It was stupid, probably immature, but she could imagine herself marrying Bill and being perfectly happy. The problem was she doubted Bill would have her. And she really doubted he wanted to be a father again, not so soon after his split from Fleur.
Hermione rushed around a corner and ran right into a nice old man walking his dog. She burst into tears, startling the man. He politely averted his gaze but said, “Nothing’s worth those tears, love. I promise you.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, and rushed on. She walked around her neighbourhood for more than an hour before she felt calm enough to return home.
*
Two days later Hermione was comfort reading one of her favourite romance novels when there was a knock on her door. Frowning, she glanced at herself in the mirror to make sure she was presentable. Her wild hair was up in a bun, a few strands escaping around her ears. Her eyes looked a little tired from reading, but her skin had a nice glow to it. She wore her favourite pair of trackie bottoms and a large pink jumper.
When she opened the door, all the blood drained from her face. “Oh, hello,” she croaked.
Bill loomed in her doorway. He wore a black leather jacket and dark-washed jeans. His hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. He was even sporting his fang earring.
Bill cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” She stepped back and he eased past her. He smelled heavenly like whiskey and hazelnut.
Closing the door, she guided him from the foyer to her lounge. They stared at one another. “Would you like to sit down?” Her voice shook.
“Okay.” He sat down on her sofa and rested his hands on his thighs. They stared at each other some more. She tried not to remember what he’d felt like on top of her, inside her.
Hermione gulped. “Would you care for a drink?” Her voice still shook. He looked uncomfortable, and she knew she was the cause.
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“Is tea all right?”
“Yes.”
Hermione escaped to her kitchen to make a pot of tea. She was trembling all over; her face felt so hot. She needed to get a hold of herself. She had to somehow tell him about the pregnancy but she had no idea how.
When the tea was ready, she brought it out to her lounge with cups and sugar and milk. They served themselves using their wands.
Hermione sat in the chair next to her sofa. She gulped her tea, scalding her mouth. “I’m surprised to see you,” she blurted out.
Bill frowned at his cup. “I know I’ve been a wanker. I shouldn’t have waited a whole month before reaching out.”
“I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Bill’s jaw pulsed. He was gritting his teeth. “I fucked up. I know I did. I -” He set down his tea and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t need to apologise. I understand if you think what happened between us was a mistake.”
Dropping his hand, Bill looked at her with dark eyes. “Do you think it was a mistake?”
Hermione also set down her cup. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her teeth started to chatter. “Bill, I need to tell you something.”
This made his entire demeanor change. He sat forward, his large palms holding his knees. His gaze had turned hard. “Are you involved with someone else? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s - Merlin. Bill, I’m pregnant.”
He looked utterly frozen. “Oh,” he said.
She surged forward in her seat, needing him to listen. “I only found out a few days ago. I was going to tell you; I just didn’t know how, not yet. I was trying to figure things out for myself.”
“I understand,” he said very softly.
She couldn’t read his expression. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt faint. “Look, Bill. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t ideal. I know you’ve just ended things with Fleur. I know I’m probably not your first choice. We don’t really even know each other. There’s loads of things for us to consider.”
“Don’t apologise,” he said, voice rougher. He blinked. “Are you considering … not having the child?”
“Yes.” She desperately wished she could read his expression.
“I see.”
She stood suddenly and went to the window. She needed space from him. Outside the sky had closed up, the clouds swollen with rain.
“I’ll support whatever you decide,” Bill said after a moment of silence.
“I don’t understand what that means.” She heard movement behind her but was still surprised when he touched her shoulder.
“Please look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned to him. She stared at his shoulder, unable to look up into his face. He touched her cheek with a rough hand.
“Hermione,” he murmured.
She shuddered. Stupidly, she felt tears sting her eyes. “I fancy you, Bill.”
He sucked in air. “I fancy you, too.”
Shaking her head, she pulled away. She finally looked up at him, angry. “No, you don’t understand. Given the choice, I would have this child with you. I would be your partner … your wife. But it’s not the right time, is it?”
His eyes burned with feeling. His mouth was a firm line, almost a frown. He almost looked like he was in pain.
A harsh wave of panic hit her. She turned away, not sure where she was headed. She just needed to get away.
Hermione made two steps toward the door before Bill caught her in his arms. He kissed her, his hands framing her face. She melted against him. She couldn’t help it. For a month she’s been desperate to taste him, to feel him against her, and now it was reality. Briefly, the world fell away. She opened her mouth, letting him in. Their tongues stroked together, and Bill moaned quietly.
Breathing heavily, Bill broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re carrying my child.”
“Yes.”
He kissed her temple. “Oh, Hermione. I’m happy. I shouldn’t be but I am. You’re right that the timing is shit. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Fleur, but I can’t ignore what I feel for you. Fuck … that night at my parents’? Bloody brilliant.”
She smiled a little sadly. “Great sex doesn’t mean we’ll be good for each other.”
“I’m willing to try. I want you to have my child.” He touched her belly. He was smiling but in a reserved sort of way. She could tell he was holding himself back for her.
“What about your daughter? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”
“Victoire is young enough to accept the change. And it’s better this way. She would’ve had a worse life if Fleur and I had stayed together and spent her childhood fighting.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. He grabbed her hands and kissed her palms.
“I’ve fancied you for a long time, Hermione. I always thought I was too old for you, which I definitely was when we first met.”
She laughed, still tearful. “Really?”
“You are brilliant. So clever, so sensible. You are strong and brave, and I’ve always enjoyed your lovely hair.”
“I might have noticed you, too. My friend’s hot older brother.”
His smile dimmed. “Fleur and I were never quite right for each other. But then I was attacked by Greyback and I don’t know … I thought she was the only one who’d ever want to be with me.”
“Oh, Bill!” Hermione wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a tight embrace. She buried her face in his jacket, enjoying its scent. “You are beautiful, so beautiful. The scars only add to it.”
“You like the scars?”
“Yes.” She raised up on her toes to kiss one of them. “I thought I’d made that clear when we made love.”
He growled and grabbed her arse, squeezing. “You made quite a few things clear that night.”
She felt his stiffening cock against her stomach. She pressed closer. “Make love to me again? Please?”
“Yes, darling,” he said, and kissed her possessively.
Author/Artist: maraudersaffair
Pairing(s): Hermione/Bill
Prompt: Self prompt
Summary: One night Hermione and Bill shag at the Burrow. Then Hermione discovers she is pregnant. The sex is brilliant between them, but Bill is newly separated from Fleur, and Hermione isn’t sure having a baby with Bill is the best choice.
Word Count: 4500
Rating: Explicit
Warnings/Contains: Self esteem issues, references to abortion, slight angst, HEA, slightly semi-public sex
Notes: A big thanks to my beta, Lena!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Hermione never meant to sleep with Bill Weasley. She never meant to develop feelings for him, or to think about him every day, every hour. She never meant to kiss him, or to let him touch her. She never meant to end up beneath him, with him deep inside her, so deep inside her.
It had happened after a Sunday roast, after the rest of the Weasleys had Floo’ed home or gone up to bed.
Molly and Arthur still invited Hermione over for family dinners. It was very kind of them to include her. She hadn’t been with Ron for a few years now, but she was still best mates with Harry and Ginny and their children. The family still enjoyed her company. Ron had mostly moved on; he was now dating Pansy Parkinson and absolutely loving it. Hermione was happy that he was happy.
Bill was newly separated from Fleur. He was staying at the Burrow, helping Molly and Arthur with the gnome-infested garden, running errands to Diagon Alley, cleaning and organising parts of the Burrow that hadn’t seen a Scourgify in decades. He was sharing parenting responsibilities with Fleur, but little Victoire wasn’t present that night. Hermione was sure things would have gone quite differently if she’d been around.
Bill hadn’t been drunk, Hermione remembered. He had only sipped pumpkin juice during dinner. Hermione had only a glass of water. Looking back, Hermione almost wished she could have blamed it on intoxication; but the truth was Hermione had wanted it; she had been desperate for it.
That night, Bill wouldn’t stop looking at Hermione. It was a problem. They sat across from each other at the family dinner table, eating their beef and potatoes, savouring the treacle tart (Molly made it all the time for Harry).
Hermione felt warm all over. She forced herself to take slow, easy bites before glancing up at Bill. Every time she looked she found his eyes on her. He smiled softly at her. He didn’t cut his gaze away, but he didn’t ogle her either. In truth, he seemed almost apologetic. Hermione knew he was self-conscious of the scars on his face; she had even overheard him describe himself as damaged, but Hermione found the scars quite becoming. She found them sexy.
After dinner, the family moved to the lounge. Arthur started a crackling fire and Molly served them little cups of coffee. Harry and Ron fell into a chess match, and Ginny and Charlie went outside to chuck a battered old Quaffle around. George took the children to a comfy corner to read them a story.
It left Hermione and Bill alone sitting on the same settee and Arthur and Molly stationed in front of the fire in their cushioned chairs. Arthur asked Hermione about the Ministry (he’d retired a few years back and was eager for office gossip). Molly asked Bill about where he was in the project of de-gnoming the garden. Bill had taken a break from working as a Curse Breaker, but he was set to return to his work the following week. It was important that the garden be rid of gnomes before then.
As they spoke, Hermione couldn’t help but be very aware of Bill sitting next to her. She felt his warmth, smelled his cologne. He’d put some effort into his appearance, his face clean-shaven, his red hair combed and neatly tied back.
He seemed to be aware of her as well. He didn’t look at her, not really, but his body was turned to her almost subconsciously. It made her stomach flutter.
Suddenly Bill addressed her: “Are you still working with Jackson Barley? He was a good bloke when he was at Gringotts.”
“I am,” she said, trying to meet his blue gaze and not blush. Bill really did have lovely eyes.
For some reason, Arthur and Molly both remembered they needed something in the kitchen at that moment and left Hermione and Bill alone.
Bill watched them retreat, frowning. Hermione laughed, but she really didn’t know what was going on. She laughed because she was nervous.
Bill gave her another one of his soft smiles. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember why I decided to move back in with my parents.”
“You wanted to help them … spend more time with them.”
“Yes.” He looked down at his lap, frowning again. His eyes were almost sad. “I thought I would find some needed stability here, too. Some needed comfort.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Partially.”
The night progressed and the family began to take their leave. Harry and Ginny were the last to leave, and little Lily had a bit of a tantrum when they woke her up from her slumber in front of the fire.
Then Arthur and Molly went up to bed, and Hermione and Bill were left truly alone. They relaxed against the settee. Bill stoked the fire and Hermione sighed as she felt the soft heat lick her cool face. Outside the lounge window, quiet snow began to fall.
Quite unexpectedly, Bill removed a pipe from his pocket. “Do you mind?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
Bill lit the pipe with his wand, and took a deep pull of smoke. He blew it out away from her, but it wasn’t necessary. The smoke smelled amazing - like toasted almonds and sugar-licked cherries.
“Fairy tobacco,” Hermione said, taking a deep breath. “It truly smells magical.”
Bill laughed. “I grew up with an uncle smoking this stuff all the time. His pipe always smelled like a lemon bar.”
“The scent almost makes me want to pick up the habit.”
“Would you like to try it?” Bill offered the pipe to her. “It’s not as lethal as the Muggle stuff but you shouldn’t smoke it everyday.”
Hermione took the pipe and wrapped her lips around its end. A small thrill went through her: the wood was a bit wet with Bill’s saliva. As she inhaled, Bill watched her face avidly.
Hermione grimaced and tried not to cough. “It burns,” she wheezed.
Bill laughed. “Yeah … but do you pick up the fruity notes?”
“Not really.” Hermione coughed and took a sip of her coffee.
Bill rubbed her back, his palm burning through her jumper. “I’m sorry I suggested it. Would you like me to Summon a glass of water?”
She swallowed some more coffee. “No, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” There were tears on her cheeks. Bill touched her chin gently, turning her to him. He brushed away the tears with a warm thumb. The action released something inside her.
Surging forward, Hermione grabbed his wrist and pinned it down. He jerked and she saw an apology forming on his lips. Before he could speak, she kissed the scar tissue just above the right corner of his mouth.
She didn’t let herself think.
Bill’s breath stuttered. Encouraged, she followed the scar across his cheek with her lips. When she met jagged skin, she used her tongue to taste the old pain there. She was desperate to soothe him.
“Oh,” he said.
She raised her head to gaze into his eyes. The blue had turned dark and stormy, his lids heavy. He wanted her. She saw it plainly.
Without breaking eye contact, she unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his zip. He let out a pant. When her hand wrapped around his stiffy, his head fell back, his lips parted.
She leaned close to drag her mouth down his throat. She stroked him slowly, almost teasing him. His hips jerked.
They were really doing this. She was really doing this.
“Tell me if I’m not the one you want and I’ll stop,” she said.
Bill resurfaced from his euphoria. He blinked at her, his face flushed red. “I’ve wanted you for years,” he said, voice so soft. “I didn’t think - you were with - I was older.”
Hermione sucked the vulnerable skin on his throat. She licked his bottom lip, biting down. Her hand still stroked him. “Do you want me to suck you?”
“Oh,” he said, breath catching.
She swiped her thumb over his head, gathering the wet there. “Is that a yes?”
Bill’s eyes had turned impossibly dark. “Yes,” he said.
Taking pity on him, she leaned down and dragged her tongue up his shaft. His skin felt velvety against her tongue. He groaned and his hips jerked again.
She took him into her mouth, whirling her tongue around his head. Moaning, she bobbed her head, going slowly, taking her time to taste him. His hands curled into fists. He still held back, his control on the verge of crumbling.
She felt herself getting wet as she sucked him. She sneaked a hand into her knickers to work her throbbing clit. He noticed what she was doing, and moaned again.
“Fuck - Hermione.”
Then she went deep, taking him until he breached her throat. He gasped and thrust, choking her a little. She stayed down, letting him feel the wet tightness of her throat. Moaning, he buried his hands in her wild hair.
“Merlin.” He urged her up so he could kiss her. She opened her mouth, meeting his tongue with her own. She wanted him to taste himself. They kissed hotly for a moment, then he drew back. “Can I touch you?”
She nodded eagerly. She slipped his hand into her knickers. He groaned when his finger slid between her wet lips. Finding her clit, he watched her face as his thumb worked her over.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Do you like this?”
“Yes,” she said, then thought about his parents just upstairs. She bit her lower lip. “I like it so much.”
“I want you, Hermione.”
“Yes.”
“Right now.”
“Yes, Bill.”
He pulled her closer, then urged her onto her back. Somehow she found herself pinned beneath him on the settee, the fire still crackling warmly. His eyes were very dark as he stared down at her. His scars reflected the light of the fire. She felt his erection pressing needily between her thighs.
She reached up to draw a finger over the worst of his scars, mapping out its terrain on his freckled face. The skin turned jagged where Greyback’s claws had really dug in. He tried to turn away, but her hand captured his chin.
“No,” she said, then urged his face closer. She dragged her tongue along the same path her finger took. He groaned deeply and thrust against her soaked knickers.
“Hermione.” It sounded like a plea.
“Anything.” She wiggled out of her knickers, kicking them off. She guided his hand to her slickness. “I want you so much.”
Some last shred of control broke in him. He parted her thighs roughly; he put his mouth on her, sucking, lapping. She surged up, overwhelmed by the sensation. She shoved a fist into her mouth to muffle her cry.
Bill sucked and nibbled her clit, then went lower to penetrate her with his tongue. She was so wet for him, so damn wet. Her hands found his long red hair; the fire highlighted the silver strands. A finger joined his tongue, and she tugged his hair, needing so much more.
“Please,” she said, writhing against his mouth. His finger and tongue felt good, so good, but she wanted to be filled; she wanted him to command her.
He knelt a little as he yanked at his trousers. Her trembling hand helped him shove down his underpants; his stiffy was big, heavy in her palm. She widened her thighs even more, stroking him, urging him to put it in her, just put it in.
“Are you sure?” He was panting, his gaze glittering.
“Yes.” She didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything more.
Groaning, Bill thrust inside her. She gasped, her thighs squeezing together. Her hands scrambled for purchase. He was gentle and she was wet, so wet, but the penetration hurt. It made her mind go absolutely blank.
“Oh, fuck.”
“Bill.”
“I - oh, fuck.” Trembling, he kissed her neck.
“Yes.” She arched and breathed out, trying to relax.
He pulled out a little, then pushed back in. Her breath caught. He did it again, then again. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck. She was panting in his ear.
“Hermione,” he moaned. “I can’t believe -”
“Shh,” she said, speaking nonsense. “Shh, Bill. Yes. Now. Please.”
He thrust harder, going deeper. She shivered. She was opening up for him, relaxing. There was still pain but it was good, so good. She felt like she wanted to cry.
“I’m going to do it,” he murmured.
“Do it.”
Groaning again, he quickened his hips. He fucked her hard, both of them trying not to make sound. His bollocks smacked against her flesh.
She grabbed his arse, feeling him flex as he thrust. She bit his shirt, overwhelmed, unable to catch her breath.
He pounded into her, the settee skipping against the floor. They made sure not to hit the wall.
He kissed her, and they both tasted of desperation. “I’m going to come.”
“Do it, Bill.”
“Please,” he whimpered.
“Yes, I want it.” She writhed, tugging at him. She wanted his everything.
“Please,” he said again, his voice catching. His thrusts lost rhythm, his hips jerking. He thrust hard into her; he stilled, shaking, his soft moans continuous. She felt him coming inside her, a pounding warmth. His hips jerked again as he emptied himself so deep within her.
She was shaking when he pulled out. She hadn’t come yet and wondered if he would roll to his side and fall asleep. But then he put his mouth on her again, and she had to muffle a cry that was louder than before.
He worked her clit with his thumb as he ate her eagerly. She thrust up, riding his mouth. When her orgasm hit, it consumed her entirely; she clenched up, her eyes rolling back, her mouth falling open.
When it was all over, she was trembling even harder. He pulled her closer and buried his nose in her hair. “You are perfect,” he murmured.
She couldn’t stop trembling. She still throbbed between her thighs. “You are so sexy,” she murmured back.
Bill laughed. He kissed her cheek. Then he rested his head against her shoulder. After a few minutes, he was asleep.
A little while later, she escaped from beneath him. She found her knickers on the floor, then righted her clothes. She looked at him one last time before leaving.
Not a sound came from upstairs.
A month passed. Hermione stayed away from the Burrow, made excuses to miss Sunday dinners, avoided the subject of her absences with Harry and Ginny. Part of her wished Bill would reach out but he didn’t. She supposed he regretted sleeping with her. She didn’t regret it, not at all. But she felt embarrassed, confused. She didn’t know if pursuing a relationship with Bill was the right thing to do.
Then she missed her period, and everything changed. Somehow she knew. The realisation hit her in the middle of dinner. She was perched in front of her telly, going to town on Thai takeaway. She felt fatigued, a little achy. She thought perhaps it was merely symptoms from her delayed cycle, but no. She knew. She remembered how Bill hadn’t pulled out. In the moment, it had been the best thing ever, but now it seemed like a terrible oversight.
Her fork dropped from her hand.
She stared at nothing for a long moment, then set her meal to the side.
She had to know right now. Best to face the facts as soon as possible.
Shutting off the telly, she Summoned her enormous spellbook. It was leather-bound, dog-eared, and pockmarked by teacup rings. She flipped through until she came across the pregnancy detection spell. She read over the directions, then nodded to herself. Right. It seemed easy enough.
Hand shaking, she cast the spell. White light issued from her womb; it spun in the air like a glowing orb. She held her breath. When the light turned purple, Hermione nodded again to herself. She was pregnant. The spell had merely confirmed what she had already known.
Hermione ended the spell and stood on shaky legs. She needed to think. She needed to not panic. She looked down at her takeaway but she was no longer hungry. She decided to take a walk.
Outside the day was cold, the sun hiding behind a few clouds. Her London neighbourhood was surprisingly quiet. She walked briskly, her thoughts chaotic. She passed a few people but she didn’t see their faces. At one point she tripped on a bit of rubbish on the pavement.
Right. She was pregnant. And if she didn’t do anything about it, she would have Bill Weasley’s child.
Hermione laughed to herself. She had always thought she would have children with Ron, especially after Harry and Ginny had settled down. And after she’d broken up with Ron, she never thought she would have a child who was half Weasley. She used to be a little sad about it. She loved the Weasleys. They were a great family and they would’ve loved her and Ron’s children. But Bill wasn’t Ron and he already had a child.
She wanted to be a mother, but not like this.
Oh, hell, Hermione thought. She charged forward, needing to be in motion. She didn’t want to cry. If she stopped walking she would cry.
The peculiar thing was that she liked Bill loads more than she ever liked Ron. Ron had always felt like a safe choice, a comfortable choice, even when they’d been dramatic teenagers. It was one of the reasons why Hermione had ended things with him. She loved him like a best friend, not like someone who made her heart thump with desire.
She wanted Bill in a way she’d never wanted Ron.
It was stupid, probably immature, but she could imagine herself marrying Bill and being perfectly happy. The problem was she doubted Bill would have her. And she really doubted he wanted to be a father again, not so soon after his split from Fleur.
Hermione rushed around a corner and ran right into a nice old man walking his dog. She burst into tears, startling the man. He politely averted his gaze but said, “Nothing’s worth those tears, love. I promise you.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, and rushed on. She walked around her neighbourhood for more than an hour before she felt calm enough to return home.
Two days later Hermione was comfort reading one of her favourite romance novels when there was a knock on her door. Frowning, she glanced at herself in the mirror to make sure she was presentable. Her wild hair was up in a bun, a few strands escaping around her ears. Her eyes looked a little tired from reading, but her skin had a nice glow to it. She wore her favourite pair of trackie bottoms and a large pink jumper.
When she opened the door, all the blood drained from her face. “Oh, hello,” she croaked.
Bill loomed in her doorway. He wore a black leather jacket and dark-washed jeans. His hair was pulled back in a long ponytail. He was even sporting his fang earring.
Bill cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” She stepped back and he eased past her. He smelled heavenly like whiskey and hazelnut.
Closing the door, she guided him from the foyer to her lounge. They stared at one another. “Would you like to sit down?” Her voice shook.
“Okay.” He sat down on her sofa and rested his hands on his thighs. They stared at each other some more. She tried not to remember what he’d felt like on top of her, inside her.
Hermione gulped. “Would you care for a drink?” Her voice still shook. He looked uncomfortable, and she knew she was the cause.
“Sure, if you don’t mind.”
“Is tea all right?”
“Yes.”
Hermione escaped to her kitchen to make a pot of tea. She was trembling all over; her face felt so hot. She needed to get a hold of herself. She had to somehow tell him about the pregnancy but she had no idea how.
When the tea was ready, she brought it out to her lounge with cups and sugar and milk. They served themselves using their wands.
Hermione sat in the chair next to her sofa. She gulped her tea, scalding her mouth. “I’m surprised to see you,” she blurted out.
Bill frowned at his cup. “I know I’ve been a wanker. I shouldn’t have waited a whole month before reaching out.”
“I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Bill’s jaw pulsed. He was gritting his teeth. “I fucked up. I know I did. I -” He set down his tea and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You don’t need to apologise. I understand if you think what happened between us was a mistake.”
Dropping his hand, Bill looked at her with dark eyes. “Do you think it was a mistake?”
Hermione also set down her cup. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her teeth started to chatter. “Bill, I need to tell you something.”
This made his entire demeanor change. He sat forward, his large palms holding his knees. His gaze had turned hard. “Are you involved with someone else? Do you want me to leave?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s - Merlin. Bill, I’m pregnant.”
He looked utterly frozen. “Oh,” he said.
She surged forward in her seat, needing him to listen. “I only found out a few days ago. I was going to tell you; I just didn’t know how, not yet. I was trying to figure things out for myself.”
“I understand,” he said very softly.
She couldn’t read his expression. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt faint. “Look, Bill. I’m sorry. I know this isn’t ideal. I know you’ve just ended things with Fleur. I know I’m probably not your first choice. We don’t really even know each other. There’s loads of things for us to consider.”
“Don’t apologise,” he said, voice rougher. He blinked. “Are you considering … not having the child?”
“Yes.” She desperately wished she could read his expression.
“I see.”
She stood suddenly and went to the window. She needed space from him. Outside the sky had closed up, the clouds swollen with rain.
“I’ll support whatever you decide,” Bill said after a moment of silence.
“I don’t understand what that means.” She heard movement behind her but was still surprised when he touched her shoulder.
“Please look at me.”
Taking a deep breath, she turned to him. She stared at his shoulder, unable to look up into his face. He touched her cheek with a rough hand.
“Hermione,” he murmured.
She shuddered. Stupidly, she felt tears sting her eyes. “I fancy you, Bill.”
He sucked in air. “I fancy you, too.”
Shaking her head, she pulled away. She finally looked up at him, angry. “No, you don’t understand. Given the choice, I would have this child with you. I would be your partner … your wife. But it’s not the right time, is it?”
His eyes burned with feeling. His mouth was a firm line, almost a frown. He almost looked like he was in pain.
A harsh wave of panic hit her. She turned away, not sure where she was headed. She just needed to get away.
Hermione made two steps toward the door before Bill caught her in his arms. He kissed her, his hands framing her face. She melted against him. She couldn’t help it. For a month she’s been desperate to taste him, to feel him against her, and now it was reality. Briefly, the world fell away. She opened her mouth, letting him in. Their tongues stroked together, and Bill moaned quietly.
Breathing heavily, Bill broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “You’re carrying my child.”
“Yes.”
He kissed her temple. “Oh, Hermione. I’m happy. I shouldn’t be but I am. You’re right that the timing is shit. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Fleur, but I can’t ignore what I feel for you. Fuck … that night at my parents’? Bloody brilliant.”
She smiled a little sadly. “Great sex doesn’t mean we’ll be good for each other.”
“I’m willing to try. I want you to have my child.” He touched her belly. He was smiling but in a reserved sort of way. She could tell he was holding himself back for her.
“What about your daughter? I don’t want to be a homewrecker.”
“Victoire is young enough to accept the change. And it’s better this way. She would’ve had a worse life if Fleur and I had stayed together and spent her childhood fighting.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She sniffled and wiped her eyes. He grabbed her hands and kissed her palms.
“I’ve fancied you for a long time, Hermione. I always thought I was too old for you, which I definitely was when we first met.”
She laughed, still tearful. “Really?”
“You are brilliant. So clever, so sensible. You are strong and brave, and I’ve always enjoyed your lovely hair.”
“I might have noticed you, too. My friend’s hot older brother.”
His smile dimmed. “Fleur and I were never quite right for each other. But then I was attacked by Greyback and I don’t know … I thought she was the only one who’d ever want to be with me.”
“Oh, Bill!” Hermione wrapped her arms around him and drew him into a tight embrace. She buried her face in his jacket, enjoying its scent. “You are beautiful, so beautiful. The scars only add to it.”
“You like the scars?”
“Yes.” She raised up on her toes to kiss one of them. “I thought I’d made that clear when we made love.”
He growled and grabbed her arse, squeezing. “You made quite a few things clear that night.”
She felt his stiffening cock against her stomach. She pressed closer. “Make love to me again? Please?”
“Yes, darling,” he said, and kissed her possessively.
