Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Tooth and Claw	By : NinaWhite Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Bill Views: 8179 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own the Harry Potter series and I'm not making any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Tooth and Claw
- 1
Chapter One: Beginning

Nails, sharp and blunt all once, dug into his face. Ripping white hot trails across his skin. Cheek, chin, nose, nothing was spared. Blinded by blood and panic, he lashed out like a muggle. All fists and furry, catching the human shaped monster in the gut, in the chest, perhaps once in the head but it didn't seem to do anything.

Then the worst happened.

Teeth. They came down on the side of his neck. Hot agony burst out from the contact as they broke his skin. Oh Merlin it hurt. He could actually feel the curse. It swept through him like fire. All consuming and unstoppable. Let it end, won't someone please just let it end?

A brilliant flash of light made its way through the haze in his mind and the blood in his eyes. Flesh tore away from his neck where the monster had still had hold. His brain functioned just well enough to realise that some spell or other must have sent it tumbling away from him. A heady growl reached him through the fog and he became aware of someone standing over him.

His sense of smell began to grow until the inside of his nose burnt and his hearing sharpened to the point if pain. Every scream, shout and explosion ricocheting around his skull like ever moving pieces of shrapnel. He gained an unnerving awareness of the sound of his heart, beating fast but feeble. Feeble when compared to hers.

He had no reason to think the indistinct blur was female, except. Except there was something about the smell of them that reached him through the stench of his own blood and sweat, through the stink of fire, that spoke to his instincts. That said this creature was very much a woman. And she was defending him.

The blur moved and he heard words that he could not comprehend as the ground he lay on seemed to sway and flow. A high pitch animal howl reached his ears and the acrid stench of burning flesh stung his nose. Another yell, the voice harsh, threatening and demeaning yet quieter.

Everything was getting so much quieter. The smells were just as strong, but the light and the noise were becoming muffled. Fading out as the fire of the curse pulsing through his veins started to be replaced by a quasi cold.

He became painfully aware again when a harsh whine grated in his ears like the ringing loud club music often left. He was being jostled, dropped onto a bed. Muffled panic breached the jarring single unending note, forcing it to become quieter. Brilliant bright light forced its way into his barely open eyes and he groaned. His face and neck throbbed as he was dropped down onto a surface that any other day he might think was soft.

The ringing grew quiet as the voices grew unbearably loud. He thought that heard someone say his name. Then something about blood. Merlin it was cold. So very cold.

He felt someone drip something onto his face.

A scream tore from his throat and he thrashed at the renewed fire that flared to life, following the thick lines of his wounds. Maybe someone said hold him down, he couldn't be sure. But hands gripped him regardless of words. This was torture, it had to be. He tried to tell them to get off, to get away. They didn't listen, they just applied more force. So he fought back.

A sweet tasting potion was tipped into his mouth and he spat it out. Not more torture, no more! Couldn't they just let him die? He had nothing for them, no information, no secrets. Just let him die. The potion again, except now he didn't get the chance to spit, hand wouldn't let him, holding over his mouth and pinching his nose, making the sting and the pain build as they slipped on his blood.

He held his breath, determined not to make it easy for them. His body had other ideas as he was held down. It tried to take a breath and choked on the liquid. He coughed, his reflexes making him swallow.

His entire body relaxed, his strength and will fleeing as his eyes drooped closed and the hands pinning him down relaxed their grip, the one that had been on his face releasing him entirely as a heaviness not too dissimilar to sleep descended over him.

Oh Gods what had he done? He had seen Granger look like she was about to actually kill Greyback as they ran past and grabbed him, one of the Weasley's lying on the floor, blood everywhere. He wished they'd left him to her, he never should have come. Severus only let go of the scruff of his neck to put a rightly furious Potter on his arse long enough for them to escape.

Soon enough the older man's hand was clamped back onto his neck and he was being dragged along, out of the gate and then, without warning Severus dragged him into that between place. Side along apparition was never pleasant. It felt even more cramped, claustrophobic.

Then freedom again, in some meeting spot he'd never been told about. A forest clearing, next to a muggle sign telling him that there were squirrels as if he was in the mood to care. Again the hold on him was dropped and he slouched, almost toppling under the weight of what had just happened, leaning forward with his hand of his knees and breathing purposefully slowly. Severus took a step forward, somehow not out of breath or even seeming faintly disturbed by what had happened. The noise – not speech, he couldn't think of it as words right now – washed against him as a self congratulatory babble with a little panic thrown in.

He couldn't quite comprehend when he saw the man's pale hand tighten around his wand, arm stiff as the others slipped their own back into sleeves and pockets and holsters.

A blur of black fabric and Greybacks neck exploded with blood. Another and his aunt was thrown violently into a tree, her arm skewed to an awkward angle. More spells, more chaos. Confusion spilled out around them and before any of the others could grab their newly put away wands Severus had grabbed him again.

His eyes widened in shock as his aunt got to his feet. He just didn't understand as Severus dragged him through another disorientating side along apparition, to a street this time. "Read this," the older man snapped, shoving a note into his hand and dragging him out of the road and onto the pavement. He glanced down, nearly losing his footing as he looked at the note and quickly read the address on it. For a moment it seemed that he was being dragged into a wall only for a door to appear just in time for Severus to slam it open and throw him inside.

The waiting arms of his halfblood cousin caught him. His eyes widened as he stared up to her. There was so much of his aunt in her face. The nose, the heavily lidded eyes, the softness of her chin. The lunacy however was nowhere to be seen and he didn't know if it was the bubblegum blue ringlets in her hair or the rosy tint to her cheeks, but she seemed altogether softer than Bellatrix. Though she was still glaring down to him with those dark blue eyes.

Barely a second passed and her face softened to concern and she pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him. Confused, he turned his head to look back to Severus. Nymphadora was stroking his hair and he became vaguely aware that his whole body was shaking as the man who had in effect just kidnapped him leaned back against the now closed door and slid down it to end up sitting on the floor, eyes closed and head tilted back. Moody pointing a wand at him, his expression grim.

"Murderer," the old grizzled auror said without humour, but strangely without malice. Severus opened one eye and looked to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Fuck off Alistair, I'm in no mood for what passes as a joke in your world." Faint surprise drifted through Draco's mind at hearing the proud man swear and he became dimly aware that his legs were slowly giving out and that his cousins hold on him was tightening as she cooed something he'd rather not hear quietly into his ear. Telling him that it'd be alright, that he was safe now.

Moody lowered his wand then extended his hand to Severus, asking, "Did you make it quick?"

"And as painless as I could under the circumstances," he replied, taking Moody's hand and allowing the old auror to drag him up to his feet as Draco's small world came tumbling down.

Hermione sat in the hospital wing, not wanting to leave but not wanting to stay either. She looked down to her hands, still covered in Bills blood, and wished that Greyback had not been stolen from her, that it was that foul creatures blood on her skin. The realisation that she actually wanted to kill someone had shaken her, almost as much as when she had without though tried to do it. But some Death Eater, she wasn't sure which, had grabbed the wolf and dragged him out of her spells firing line.

She clenched her first, watching the dried blood crack and flake at the movement. Then a hand was on her shoulder and the blood disappeared with a strange cold sensation washing over her skin that didn't stop at just her hands.

"You're not injured, are you dear?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Hermione shook her head, her eyes drifting over to the heavily bandaged Bill. The medi-witch sighed with relief.

"Will Bill be okay?" she asked, her voice wavering. Think of the now, don't think of the astronomy tower, of the broken form they're picking up, of the battle, of the blood. Just think of the now. Madame Pomfrey turned her gaze to the heavily injured man lying in the bed opposite them.

"He won't become a full blown werewolf if that's what you mean, though he will go through some changes. I'm not sure what they'll be, but nothing with that disease is pleasant."

Harry's fist collided with Malfoy's jaw, sending the pale blond boy staggering back and crashing into the wall. He stumbled to his feet, hand on his jaw as Hermione called out her friends name with firm reprimand, putting herself between the two.

"Okay, I deserved that," Malfoy muttered, more to himself than any of the people present.

"You deserve a lot more than that," Ron snapped.

"Both of you just shut up," Hermione yelled, her temper flaring and her hand on Harry's chest as he made to take another step forward.

"Hermione, he let Death Eaters into the school, he's the reason Dumbledore's dead! The reason Bill got half his face ripped off!"

"By all means," Draco began, his voice a little steadier than it had been when he had first spoken to them after being escorted into the headmasters office. "If it'll make you feel better hit me again. But it won't change the fact that Dumbledore was already dying. And honestly, I'd do it again." Hermione ground her teeth.

"You're not helping Malfoy."

"Why should I? If he wants to beat the crap out of me for trying to keep my mother safe then let him. If he wants to break a few of my bones for letting Greyback into the school why should you hold him back. He's a big boy, I'm sure he'll know when to stop punching so he won't kill me." Harry's face had blanched a little, his eagerness to harm the Slytherin draining away when he realised that Malfoy wanted it. He took a step back from the boy, eying him oddly as Hermione looked over her shoulder.

"Pity," he said with distain, his grey eyes flitted to Ron. "What about you? You've always wanted to take a swing at me."

"I recon you're a bit too close to enjoying it to be honest." The blond boy shrugged, rubbing at his bruising skin again before taking a seat. Then almost as an afterthought, he tilted his head and eyes Hermione with a strangely suggestive half smirk.

"I don't suppose there's much point in even asking you?" A strange something flickered through her chest and her stomach, something that wouldn't let her give the most sensible answer.

"Maybe later." His eyebrows rose as Harry and Ron looked at her with shock and no small amount of horror. The door opened before any of them could question her and McGonagal strode in to take the seat that had until very recently belonged to Dumbledore, gesturing for the rest of them to sit down as well. Hermione followed her instruction without paying much attention to any other boys in the room.

"I have a few things to discuss with you all," their teacher began. "The first is the status of Young Mister Malfoy here and Professor Snape." Her eyes darted to Malfoy, no doubt noticing the ever growing blemish on the boys jaw. Her lips pursed for a moment as she likely guessed what had happened before she entered the room. "We're going to say that you were forced into what you did, which is true enough I suppose. That a Death Eater killed Albus, which is again technically true. You and Severus will be returning to the school, though Severus will be taking another week off to "recover" from injuries sustain while rescuing you. You'll also be assigned your own room away from the other students for your own safety"

"You've been planning this," Malfoy interrupted blandly. "Haven't you?"

"Of course," McGonagal snapped as though offended anyone would think they hadn't planned for it. "I want to keep a close eye on you boy. One wrong step and I'll personally see to it that you're reunited with your father. Albus may have been forgiving to the point of obscenity, but I am not." The boy shrugged and the professor sighed. He seemed to genuinely not care and that disturbed her even more than his plea for violence had.

"And Mister Potter, don't think that you've been left out. I can't allow you to return to the Dursley's over the summer. It would put far too many lives at risk when it came to retrieving you once the magical protection there came to an end. The two of you are welcome to stay here at Hogwarts with him if you wish, and I'd highly recommend it." Her tone made Hermione think that it wasn't so much a suggestion as a thinly veiled order, but she didn't mind. She could see why it was needed.

"Professor, I'm going to need to talk to you about my parents at some point, in private."

He didn't want to be here. He had never wanted to be here. Not from his first day of first year. Hogwarts was sickening to him and never more so now that he was stood in his classroom, looking over the empty seats and wondering why he even bothered. He remembered less happy times in this very classroom. The first time he had had his own spell turned again him had been in here. Though the memories weren't as bad as those in his potions class, where people had thrown things into his cauldrons too many times to count.

He felt no joy for being out from Voldemort's heel. No happiness. Only shame at what he had done. Yes it had been necessary, asked for, he had even begged at the end. It had been "for the greater good" as Albus would say. Merlin he loathed that contrived and twisted saying of his. And perhaps it had been, but it didn't change th only other thing he felt right now.

The grim certainty of death breathing down his neck. No one had betrayed the Dark Lord and lived. He was sure that someone would get to him, someone would find a way. And, perversely, he almost welcomed it. Not with the fervour that he once had, but the strange feeling that as long as the end was quick he wouldn't really mind. He had no family to care for, few friends and fewer good moods.

He sighed and shook his head. No, he couldn't die yet. Death would be far too much of an inconvenience. He had far too much to do.

The portrait entrance to his modest quarters swung open, but Draco didn't bother to look up to see who it was as he sat at his desk, working on his potions homework. Only one person had the password. He had slipped a note with it on into her bag. She had interested him last week with the hint that she might cave into what he wanted. A strange girl this one.

She didn't say anything to him, didn't come over to him. Once he had finished his sentence, Draco turned around in his chair and looked over to her. Her robes were missing, she wore a knee length black with red high heels and blue low cut and clingy top. Her legs had the sheen of nylon to them and where coloured lightly black by the fabric. Her hair was tied back, leaving her pleasantly slender neck exposed. Her frame was curvy and strangely powerful at the same time. Heavy hips and full breast with long legs and her exposed arms had faintly defined muscle structure. She was watching him with those big round honey eyes that had plagued his dreams for as long as he could remember, a slight curve to her full lips. She didn't seem to mind that he spent so long just looking at her. In fact she seemed more than a little amused by it.

"Hi," he said eventually. "I'm surprised you came." The slight curve to her lips became a smirk, but she still didn't speak. He cleared his throat, feeling a little awkward, as he got to his feet and sauntered over to her. He had a feeling that it wasn't just violence that was going to happen tonight. She followed him with her eyes as he came to stand in front of her. His mouth dried up and his throat seemed to close. Hesitantly, he raised his hand and stroked her arm with the back of his fingers. A small part of him cringed away from his actions in revulsion, but a newer, larger part of him knew he deserved this. To get fucked up and fucked over by a mudblood. "You look amazing," he finally managed, mentally smacking himself before the words had even left his mouth.

"I'm surprised you're saying that to a mudblood," she replied lightly. He shrugged.

"It's the truth. Though I'm still shocked that a good girl like you would come here." Her smile faded and her expression darkened. He worried she was going to leave when she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away. Except she manoeuvred herself around him so she ended up pushing him against the wall she had just been leaning on.

She pressed her body flush against him. Draco felt his breath hitch in his neck as she gripped his shoulder, digging her nails in, sending a flash of all too welcome pain through him. She rose up onto her tiptoes and her tongue flicked out to languidly lick the shell of his ear before she spoke in a low husky voice.

"In fourth year I caught Rita Skeeter in her anamagus form and kept her in a jar for two weeks, and I'm still blackmailing her now," she began, sending a shiver through him that made him aware of every nerve ending in his body. "In fifth year I put a curse on a signup sheet without telling anyone and laughed at the consequences when someone betrayed us." Her teeth grazed his ear lobe and she gave it a gentle tug as her other hand ran across his chest. "I lured Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest in the hopes a giant would kill her for me and ended up half goading the centaurs into abducting her, not raising a finger to help even when I knew what they were going to do to her." He gasped as nails dug into his chest and she began to drag them down. "This year I attacked one of my own friends and tried to kill Greyback." Her nails dragged down over his abdomen to his belt, making him painfully aware of the weight between his legs.

"I am not a good girl." With a deft single handed motion, she unbuckled his belt and pulled it out to drop on the floor. He didn't think about how experienced she must have been to be able to do that. Didn't think about her questionable status, her now oh so clear ruthlessness. All he thought about was what she was going to do to him.

Her lips crashed to his in a violent collision. There was not affection, no closeness. No, she was all passion and nails and teeth. His hand rose up to touch her and she harshly slapped it away, leaving his skin stinging. Her hands forced his shoulders back into the wall. "No touching," she said with a sick smile. "No until I say you can." He moaned as her lips found his neck, his hands balling into fists at his side as he obeyed her command. Teeth grazed his skin and a moment later he felt her tongue flick across his neck before she bit down, hard and without sympathy. She dragged her mouth away, pulling at his skin until it slipped from between her teeth. She moved down to his collar bone, hands coming away from his shoulders. She didn't unbutton his shirt. Instead she slipped fingers between the buttons and tore it apart, pulling him away from the wall to yank it off him entirely, the buttons scattering across the floor. Shirt discarded she slammed him back against the wall.

He stole a kiss as she did so and earned a slap to the face for his trouble. His head turned from the force of the blow, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face, even as the sting began to bite. "I said no touching until I say so," she growled. Her wand in her hand now, a flick of her wrist and his arms were pulled to the wall with an invisible force. Another flick and that same force brought his hands up to level with his head, still pressed against the cool plaster behind him. She stepped back, her eyes drifting across his chest with an appreciative smile on her lips. Something about the way those honey hued eyes moved made him think that she was admiring her handy work rather than his mostly toned torso, the marks her nails and teeth had left showing up in brilliant red against his pale skin.

Another step back and she placed her wand on the sofa beside her. "I suggest you watch this," she purred, touching her neck with both hands. He swallowed as her hands trailed downwards, across the skin of her chest and over her top, to gently squeeze her own breasts. She lingered there for a moment, massaging. He pulled at his invisible restraints, but it was no good, it was like a magnetic force holding him in place. He felt a throb in his groin, lingering and anticipating the act to come and her hand skimmed downwards once more, her fingers taking a delicate hold of the blue fabric to raise it up, slowly, painfully slowly, exposing the skin beneath.

There was something delightfully sadistic about the smile she wore as finally pulled the top over her head and dropped it to the ground, exposing heavy breasts clad in emerald green silk. Her fingers trailed over her own skin and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest as his breathing became heavy. Her hands reached behind her back and her heard the sound of a zip being undone. Again slowly, her hand slipped the skirt she wore down her legs, then letting it fall to the ground.

Before him stood some twisted goddess, he was sure of it. Beautiful and taking pleasure in the torment he endured. The frill around her thighs that topped her hold ups drew his attention to her legs, thick and pleasantly shaped with slim ankles, and yet again there was a power to them. Perhaps it was her posture, her confidence, whatever it was it didn't allow him to think of her being even faintly passive or submissive. It simply wasn't as his eyes drifted back slowly he noticed that her knickers matched her bra, green silk. Merlin he just wanted to touch her. His entire body screamed for it. Stepping over her discarded clothing, she sauntered back up to him, her full hips swaying wonderfully.

Eyes hooded with lust, she ran a single finger from the hollow of his throat, down the centre of his chest and over his sensitive stomach until it caught on the button of his jeans. Her smile became a little smug as she appreciatively eyed the bulge that had formed there. He whimpered as her touch went lower, ghosting over his crotch, alternating between light and firm pressure.

Without warning her nails were on him again and cried out in pain and surprise they tore down his chest. Her eyes filled with wicked glee and she let out a small cruel laugh that made his blood sing in his veins and his confined erection become painful. "I'm starting to think we should have discussed a safe word," he panted, a lopsided smile on his lips as she gently ran her fingers over the marks she had just made. He glanced down and saw blood as she answered.

"We can have if you want." He hesitated, his eyes on the small amount of scarlet liquid on his chest and her fingers.

"No," he said eventually. "I trust you." She smiled.

"Silly boy," she said fondly, placing a kiss on the edge of his mouth. She walked away from him and he felt the loss as keenly as he felt the hurt of the scratches on his chest. With an absent minded wave of her hand the force holding him against wall disappeared. He nearly fell forward, not expecting the sudden freedom. Except it wasn't freedom. He had taken a single step before she looked over her shoulder at him, one hand taking the tie from her hair to let it fall into messy ringletts.

"Take off your jeans," she ordered with a smile, obviously confident he would comply.

And he did.

As fast as he could he unbuttoned his jeans and began to slide them off as Hermione's hand reached up to rub against her right breast, over where he thought her nipple might be. The moment he had shrugged off the unwanted clothing, along with his socks and shoes he took another step towards her.

And ended up the floor on his back with a thud, his head hitting against the carpet and knocking him dizzy for a moment. Another wandless spell he guessed as he briefly saw double, not knowing if two Hermiones would be a blessing or more than he'd ever be able to handle. That invisible force came back with a vengeance. Holding not just his wrists but his ankles as well, leaving him with no escape. But anyone wanting to escape right now would have to be certifiably insane.

Just as his mind cleared of the mild fog, Hermione was over him, nipping, scratching, biting, her hair tickling his chest. His eyes rolled back and he tried desperately to free his hands. He wanted nothing more right now than to touch her, to force her onto her back and take her right then and there. He felt magic ripple around him and of Hermione's hands left his skin as he became dimly aware that she had disappeared his boxers.

"Oh Gods," he gasped as her hand closed around his member, her teeth sinking into the flesh over his collar bone. Her strokes were slow and rhythmic, his breath hitched and caught, he felt dizzy. He jerked his hips, trying to get her go faster. His punishment was harsh and fast. She squeezed, her nails digging in a little. He cried out and her slow torturous strokes resumed with a cruel little laugh that came from her throat.

Her hand disappeared and he whimpered at the loss. Only to turning his head and seem Hermione quickly rolling onto her back and slip her knickers of, to cast them aside. Before he knew what was happening she was straddling him, her hands on his wrists as though it was her physical force holding his hostage. Her lips where on his neck, kissing, biting, licking as she ground down onto his stomach. He felt her pubic hair on his skin, short and damp, and he groaned. Her lips smiled against his skin before she nibbled his ear and slid down a little until he felt her hot damp centre rub against his member.

"I can't take much more," he whimpered.

"What do you want?" she purred, trailing her tongue down the length of his neck. He squirmed and jerked his hips up again.

"You," he gasped. "I want you." She gave that wicked quiet laugh again.

"Then beg."

"Pl-please," he whimpered as she ground against his groin again. "Please just fuck me!" Her laugh louder now, with more cruelty to it as though she was glad to have broken his resolve, she leaned back and rose up on her knees before taking hold of his manhood and guiding it to her centre only to torment him further by rubbing against his tip.

"You'll have to do better than that."

"Oh fuck. Please. Please, I need you."

"Even though I'm a mudblood?" she purred cruelly, seeming to find that one little detail particularly entertaining as she held him hostage.

"Oh Gods yes. Please. I'll do whatever you want, just please fuck me right now!" Again that laugh, how he was starting to fear it and love it at the same time.

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, she lowered herself onto him. A contented sigh rising from her, letting him know that it was as much a relief for her as it was for him. Her hands ran over his chest as she settled in place, taking in as much as him as the angle would allow.

She rocked against him and his eyes rolled back once again. Dear Gods this was as close to pure bliss as he had ever came, except she was still going too slow. The calm pace after the ferocity of her seduction was maddening and she knew it. It was written on her smile, small and sedate. Her eyes closed as she tilted her head back and let out another little sigh.

Her pace changed, she lifted up, almost to the point of leaving him entirely, then slammed back down. The new pace she set was purposefully erratic, making it hard for him to match. Eventually her own physical needs overtook her need for sadism and the rhythm evened out, harsh and pounding.

"You said you'd do anything?" she gasped, leaning forwards. Her hair tickled his nose as she did so. He could only nod in response, words were beyond him. "Then fuck me as hard as you can," she pleaded, dropping the spell on him.

He grabbed her around the waist and flipped them over. Her back collided with the floor but he didn't lose his place within her. Her legs wrapped around him as he pounded into her, hard and fast. Her back arched, her nails dug in but he barely felt it over the building waves of pressure and pleasure. "Of fuck!" she cried out, pulling him as close to her as she could, whimpering into his neck before biting down on his shoulder as her walls clamped around him, but he did not relent his pace. Two, three, four thrusts more and he gave a cry of his own as one of the most powerful orgasms of his life wracked his body and he collapsed onto her, limp and boneless but sated.

She gave a satisfied murmur as she came down from her own orgasm, the grip she had on him with her legs loosened and eventually fell away. Her hands gently traced the skin on his back, sometimes stinging, sometimes tickling. One of her hands fell to the floor as the other moved almost sensually to his side. He gave her a sleepy smile, and she returned it, eyes half closed.

Then with one strong push when he wasn't expecting it, she shoved him off her and onto the floor. He swore in shock, his post coital bliss shattering like fragile glass as he watched her stretch languidly then climb to her still high heel clad feet with surprising grace and begin to gather her clothing.

"What's wrong?" he asked, worry and sickness knotting in his stomach. She looked to him with a confused frown.

"Nothing. I mean it was a little tame for my tastes," she replied as he noticed the wet blood on her hands, likely from his back. He blinked in surprise.

"Have I just been pity shagged?" he asked in horror. She laughed, a more pleasant yet somehow a colder sound than when she had been teasing and torturing.

"Oh definitely not. It was fun, and I wouldn't mind going again at some point." She frowned at tilted her head, looking at him, then gave a short disbelieving laugh. "I thought you wanted to feel as though you'd been punished. You weren't expecting romance were you?"

"No, I guess not."

A strange sort of numbness filled Bill as he held onto Fleur. The young woman cried in his arms, but he couldn't find it in him to say anything to her. "I'm sorry," she wept in French. "I'm so sorry. But I can't deal with this." He kissed to top of her head, taking in her scent for what would likely be the last real time. "I thought I could, but I'm not strong enough."

"It's okay," he cooed back, hoping he was getting the pronunciation right. While French was a lot easier to learn than Arabic, he had been speaking it for a lot less time and still wasn't quite comfortable with it yet, and it seemed now that he would have no need to be. "It's not your fault. It's no one's fault."

"I wish I could stay," she near whispered, her hands curling to fists in his jacket.

"So do I, but I don't want to put you through this. You deserve better."

A/N So here it is, the first chapter. Don't worry, Bill and Hermione will get together at some point, but there's a story to tell and this is part of it.

So, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and let me know, especially as this is the first sex scene I've ever written and I could do with a few pointers. Especially since het isn't exactly something I'm familiar with
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Tooth and Claw