Snow had fallen in the early morning and Hermione stepped into the fluffy fresh white before turning around to take the floo network to the Ministry. Her department greeted her with a huge din of noise when she walked through the department door, making her accidentally send her work bag flying. Everyone had a good laugh about it.
The goblins had finally come to an agreement on the conditions of the laws to be proposed within the Ministry. And everyone was owing it all to Hermione.
There was a big celebration and Mr Weasley came up to see her, a jovial look on his face. At some point he had pulled Hermione aside and asked her how Ron was doing. And then with his eyes glued to the floor, he apologized that he and Molly didn't know and could not help. Hermione hugged him warmly and thanked him.
She felt guilty sipping on the flute filled with a bubbly sweet liquid. The paperwork on Hermione's desk remained neglected that day. And when night fell, she stumbled from The Leaky Cauldron and apparated home. She stood at the front door a moment, and having wobbled forward, she stood propped against the door. The lights were all off. Ron was either not at home, or asleep early. Hermione glanced at her watch and was shocked to see it was 11 pm.
Putting her back against the door, her brain spun. She didn't want to go in and have Ron see her like this. Drunk? He's been sober for a month! No, she thought, where do I go?
And she walked a little unsteadily to the corner of her street, far enough away that Ron did not hear the second crack of her leaving.
The wind whipped her hair back from her face and waves behind her. The salt instantly met her lips and she licked them. Hermione knocked on the front door, feeling silly. She didn't have a key, she didn't know why she had come here. Did she really expect Bill to be here?
She rattled the doorknob, then pointed her wand and said Alohomora! It turned, then glowed red hot. Hermione's heart quickened and she stumbled back.
"Shit, of course there's defenses. You idiot." Hermione said to herself.
Crack!
"I'm sorr-" Hermione started saying as she turned around. And before her stood a very startled Bill Weasley.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.
Hermione slipped sideways in the sand and landed flat on her behind.
"Shit, Bill." She said and started giggling. "I'm sorry, I should have known you, a curse-breaker, would put some defenses in place."
Bill took her hand and pulled her up, Hermione stumbled into him and their faces were less than an inch away from each other.
"Hermione, how much did you have to drink?" Bill asked as he smelt her breath, even through the breeze.
"I'm not sure." She said laughing. "We had a little celebration today at work." She sobered herself a little and continued, "I couldn't let him see me like this."
Bill's face changed with realization and he reached for the door handle, burning himself as it was still glowing red hot. "Fuck!"
"What just happened?" Hermione said, looking around. She realised the door handle had burned him and said, "Oh, right."
Bill quickly pulled out his wand, healed his hand and undid the spell on the doorknob. He used the key to unlock the door, and soon they were sheltered from the wind. In the quietness of the kitchen, Bill put some water on. While it started to boil, he leaned back into the counter, and studied Hermione, his arms across his chest.
Hermione looked around and giggled. Her eyes were adjusting. She could see Bill's eyes had gone dark like that night he was drunk and came to see her. Professed he loved her. The next morning felt far away from this Bill standing in front of her. She cocked her head sideways, smiling broadly.
"Remember when I saw you fucking Fleur?" she asked him. His facial expression did not change.
"Why did you come here, Hermione?" Bill asked. The emphasis on here made Hermione wince. Bill was doing it again. Hot and cold, like the fucking tea. Anger welled inside her.
"What the fuck, Bill?" Hermione said, steadying herself to look directly at him. "One minute we're fucking, the next we're pretending it didn't happen?"
"We agreed we would, remember?" Bill asked, his arms remained firmly across his chest. His hair hung onto his face. Hermione realised he was in his pajamas.
"You fucked me three weeks after!" Hermione spat, "Twice!"
She was furious and Bill had not budged. The kettle whistled shrilly, and he still didn't move.
"Did you come here from Fleur's bed?" Hermione asked, her teeth ground down.
"She is my wife." Bill said. Hermione held her wand out, Bill's eyes flashed. Hermione pointed it at the kettle and said Silencio. The kettle spewed steam in silence.
"Are you sober, yet?" Bill asked, spite punctuating his voice.
"Fuck you." Hermione said, under her breath. In two long strides, Bill's mouth fitted onto hers in aggression she'd not felt from him before. He bit at her lips and nearly drew blood, so she bit him back, harder. He groaned into her mouth and lifted her onto the dining table, kicking the chairs out of the way.
Hermione stared at his face, his anger etched across every inch. She sidled her panties off to the floor as Bill unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants. She unbuttoned her shirt and released her bra, sitting naked before Bill. He stood ready, his muscles rippling in the little moonlight that shone through the curtains. His hair hung loosely around his face and she thought he looked absolutely wild.
She put her hands to her clit as she watched him, and he grabbed her wrists.
"No you don't." He growled. "You'll get no pleasure from this." Grabbing both her wrists in one of his hands, he held them above her head, used his shirt and tied them to the top of a chair.
He pushed her knees apart and put his mouth to her slit and licked. He inserted his tongue and Hermione wriggled.
"Is this what you wanted?" Bill said, and he gripped her legs tightly. " Do not move."
He flicked at her clit three times with his tongue, wetting it and then blew until it tingled. Hermione squirmed and Bill tightened his grip on her thighs.
When she settled, he flicked at her clit with his tongue again and blew, then licked her wetness out of her. Releasing one of her legs, Hermione being careful not to move, he put his middle finger into his mouth to wet it. Hermione watched him as he inserted his finger into her and he curled it upward. Her back arched but she did not squirm.
"Good. You're learning." Bill said. He inserted another finger and moved it smoothly in and out of her. Hermione's clit throbbed with lack of attention. She was about to squirm when Bill rewarded her with the sweet relief of his tongue and mouth as he gently tugged and licked it.
In a rush, Hermione gushed onto his fingers and Bill cleaned them off. He buried his tongue into her pussy, licking what of her he could. Then climbing onto her, his cock rubbing on her while she was sensitive, she squirmed. Bill's face clouded over and he kissed her. She tasted sweet, of the cocktails she drank that night.
Bill pinched her nipples before guiding his cock to her dripping gash and Hermione's eyes pleaded.
"Fuck me, William." She whispered.
Bill thrust into her to hear her scream. He yanked at her hair to expose her throat and bit at her skin. Hermione whimpered as he buried his length in her, the table thumping and scraping back. Hermione's wrists stung and she wrapped her legs around him. He pushed her knees down.
"No." Pulling out of her, flipped her over with a strength Hermione didn't know he had. Her arms twisted around above her, still tied to the chair. She arched her back. Parting her lips with his fingers, he inserted them. One, two, then three. Hermione buried her face to her shoulder and squirmed.
Bill surveyed her, and a smirk settled on his face. He leaned over her pressing himself against her back and whispered in her ear, his tongue flicked at it, "Do you want me back inside you?"
"Yes!" Hermione whimpered. He grasped her hair in his fist, yanked it back, and thrust roughly into her, holding onto her throat. When he felt her cream around him, he thrust faster still, giving her no relief.
The morning after, Hermione had snuck home before the sun had risen. She took a gulp of the hangover medicine and dropped heavily into the guest bed. She thought, This smells like Bill, before she drifted to sleep.
When she woke up 7 am, she poured a gulp worth of wideye potion into her coffee and headed to work.
That evening, when she got home an hour before Ron, and she washed her thoughts away, her thighs ached. Standing before the mirror, her eyes had bags, were soulless. The lights had gone out in them. She did not think she liked Bill anymore.
She sat in darkness as the sun set and the light faded.