Hermione laughed and danced around the room, weaving in between people, pausing every so often to exchange a happy word with the people she was friends with. Her long bushy brown hair flowed around her while wand worked overtime shoot off cooling charms in the overheated room. Her voice was hoarse from shouting over the music but she was having a great time.

Everyone was laughing, talking, or dancing. Drinks flowed freely and the guests' stomachs were filled with delicious home cooked food from Mrs Weasley and her horde of helpers; her children.

They, along with everyone they knew, were celebrating the end of the war. No one had died! Not one Weasley, not Fred, though it was touch and go for a little while, not Lupin and Tonks, though they too had had a long road to recovery, not even greasy Professor Snape who currently sat in the corner chatting up one of the Weasley's many cousins. It was months after the war and everyone was healthy, happy and ready to party!

The Burrow and the surrounding garden were packed with more people then Hermione could ever remember seeing there, even more then when Bill and Fleur got married. Her eyes swept the living room and she spotted Bill by the stairs, arguing with his wife. Hermione turned quickly from the depressing scene and danced off down the hallway to the kitchen.

Bill and Fleur were always arguing lately. Every since the refugees, so to speak, had come to stay with them during the war, they just couldn't get it right. According to Fleur, Bill was selfish for not wanting to move to France. According to everyone else, Fleur was a controlling cow who thought she was too good for his family and wanted to put as much distance between them and herself as possible.

Fleur had never been Hermione's favourite person, but she liked Bill very much and it saddened her to see their relationship coming to an end. Well, it didn't sadden her completely. Bill deserved so much better and his marriage ending would only make things better in the end.

In the kitchen, Harry was sitting at the table, Ginny perched on his lap, snogging like there was no tomorrow. Since the war ended and there was no threat of danger hanging over their heads, Ron had no choice but to accept them; they wouldn't leave each other alone. More then once, Hermione had heard either Harry sneaking into the room she shared with Ginny or Ginny sneaking out to meet him.

She laughed as Charlie spotted her, grabbed her up into a bear hug and danced her around the room, earning cries of disapproval from his mother. She'd given up on her wanton daughter and moved on to protecting Hermione's virtue.

"Put that girl down now, Charlie! You're far too old for her."

Charlie laughed and planted a loud kiss on Hermione's cheek before releasing her. Charlie received a playful swat for his affections and Hermione yet again moved on through the back door and out into the thick crowd outside.

The fresh air hit her face and she breathed in greedily. Not that it was any less crowded out here, but the space wasn't enclosed with four walls and a ceiling. House elves, paid house elves, flitted around with trays of food and drink. Hermione smiled proudly at the group who wanted to earn money that she had managed to round up, with Dobby's help, of course. They moved seamlessly between the guests.

Everyone who had been invited had turned up and it looked like they had all brought along two or three people with them. But no one cared. They were overjoyed to be able to celebrate. Nothing could make this better, nothing. Well, maybe one thing, where had that man got to…

Not ten minutes later, she found herself alone with him, upstairs, while the party raged on below. With a subtle touch of the hand, he had wordless followed her, always eager for anytime alone together. Hermione stomped down any feelings of guilt as he took command of the situation, in his arms, nothing mattered.

Hermione felt the rough wood of the inside of the broom cupboard press into her back as the toned body pressed into her chest. The buttons on her shirt were scattered around the floor, popping off as he ripped her shirt open, frenzied to feel her skin. Hermione clung tightly to his shirt, her legs barely able to support her as he relentlessly pleasured her. His mouth was hungry against hers. Stealing her breath, his tongue plunged mercilessly into between her lips, ruthlessly making love to her mouth. This is how it always was for them; hard, fast, rough, remorseless and passionate.

These moments together were stolen quickly before either was missed. When they were together, they didn't care what others would think or that when they were apart, the depression that should have lifted when the war ended, pressed even heavier on them. Nothing threatened them when they were together.

His hands were rough, bruising her soft skin as they grabbed at her thighs, pushing her skirt up over her backside until it sat gathered at her hips.

Hermione clawed at his shirt, desperate to get him closer. She seemed to live her life in a constant state of desperation. She could never get enough of him; never have him as she wanted. All night, slowly, languidly.

Instead, she settled for these quick trysts, in the cupboard or in the broomshed out the back, seedy hotels during their lunch breaks, anywhere they could. And she took it, even as her conscience raged at her, she lowered herself to the standard of a common whore to be with him.

His teeth nipping at her neck brought Hermione back to the present and to his hands, which were pulling aside her underwear. He was hard already; he always seemed to be hard, constantly ready to pounce on her, every small chance they got.

Her mouth found his as he positioned himself at her entrance. She was wet, hot for him. A simple touch from him could send her flying into erotic daydreams. She was ready to be filled by him, only him.

He didn't disappoint as he entered her with one fluid thrust up. Hermione cried out, testing the limits of the silencing charm they had placed on the small space. Hermione ground against him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Again the wall scratched against her back but she didn't care. She welcomed the pain that added to the pleasure. He pulled nearly the whole way out before thrusting up again.

Hermione was floating, she was in heaven. He knew just how to pleasure and didn't pause to ask, just gave her what she needed and took what he wanted.

His hand roughly gripped her breast, bringing her nipple to his mouth, his teeth grazing along it. Hermione's intimate walls tightened in response. His strong arm around her body held her closer as he selfishly pounded up into her. The music from downstairs reached their ears and Hermione grinned viciously as she heard the notes of the song Bill and Fleur had danced to at their wedding.

Bill wasn't with his precious wife now. He was here, in the broom cupboard, fucking her brains out.

She didn't allow the feelings of guilt that would come later to cloud her mind now. Right now, all she could think, all she could feel, was Bill.

Her body responded as he whispered in her ear.

"Tell me you want me," he demanded.

"I want you," Hermione said, her body moving quicker against his, desperate to feel every inch of him.

"Tell me you need me."

"Merlin Bill, you now I need you."

Hermione gasped as his free hand moved off her breast and reached down between them to massage her sensitive bud. His fingers moved as skilfully as his hips and Hermione's breathing quickened as she neared her end. Her orgasm crashed over her as his fingers moved expertly, skilfully bringing her to the edge and further.

His own climax followed soon after. Hermione felt him twitch inside her as he buried himself in her to his hilt, filling her with his seed.

They sank to the floor, Hermione on his lap, Bill still inside her.

He kissed her sweetly, the fever and desperate haste of their coupling gone, for the moment.

"Tell me you love me."

Hermione's breath caught. Did she love him? He'd never asked for that before. With all the things they had done to each other, nothing so intimate had been discussed before.

"I love you, Bill," she said finally.

His mouth was on hers. Their other kisses were nothing compare to this one. The passion in his lips almost burnt Hermione.

"I love you," he said. His lips pressed firmly against Hermione's jaw, just below her ear. "Just you, not her."

"Where have you been?" Ron cried to Hermione when she found him sitting in the garden. He'd missed the garden edging he was aiming for and fell in the dirt.

"Looking for you!" Hermione laughed gaily and joined him in the garden. He slung an arm around Hermione, his other around Luna.

"My two favourite girls! My girls!" he called to George as he was passing. George snickered and directed a rude gesture at his brother. Luna and Hermione just rolled their eyes at each other. Ever since he'd decided he liked Luna, Ron had been trying to convince Hermione to join them. Luna just thought it was funny and Hermione thought it was funny to string him along.

"How about we find a quiet place to get to know each other better?" Ron slurred.

Hermione laughed and removed his arm from around her shoulder.

"Ron, dear friend, everything I want to know about you, I already I do. Anything more would just spoil our friendship. I doubt if we were to copulate, we could continue with an amicable relationship. Sex only confuses tender comradeships and I really would prefer us to stay on affable grounds, okay?"

Ron stared at her a moment, his eyes glassy, before nodding. "Okay."

"Okay. Luna, you got him?"

The girl just nodded dreamily and Hermione rose to find more sober friends.

Her meeting with Bill had left her forlorn. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him. Fleur looked angry and was whispering furiously into his ear. He looked no happier and Hermione fought the urge to go to him.

"He's leaving her," Molly said, coming to stand next to where Hermione was watching them.

Hermione turned from the fighting couple to her surrogate mother. "Excuse me?"

Molly smile sadly at her oldest son. "He's leaving her. I don't know why he couldn't have waited until tomorrow. Then again, Fleur just pushes and pushes him; he was probably forced to say something."

"How do you know he's leaving her?" Hermione looked back at him and it looked as if they were both yelling now but Hermione couldn't hear them over the music.

"A mother knows these things." She looked pointedly at Hermione and Hermione's heart stopped. "She was never right for him. I have more faith in his next choice."

Hermione sucked in air, realising she had stopped breathing too.

With a loud crack, Fleur was gone. Hermione turned from Molly and watched as Bill made his way over to them.

"Mum, can I talk to you?"

"Of course dear."

Molly turned and made her way inside.

Bill lingered. He grabbed Hermione's hands and without warning, bent to kiss her, not caring who saw them.

"I love you," he said before following his mother. "I'm moving back home in the morning!"

Now nothing could make this night better. Nothing.

A/N This is not the original version of this story. The original is lost somewhere on my computer. Grr, not happy. So this is my attempt to re-write it. The original was better.