Story Notes:
Originally posted: December 23, 2005
Written for Kessie for Merry Smutmas. She requested Bondange, spankings, and angst. Beta'd by 
jedirita, charlotteschaos, and wordplay.
Links: My LJ and Pornish Pixies
The devil's in the moon for mischief; they
Who call'd her chaste, methinks, began too soon
Their nomenclature; there is not a day,
The longest, not the twenty-first of June,
Sees half the business in a wicked way,
On which three single hours of moonshine smile--
And then she looks so modest all the while!
~ Lord Byron ~
The first time it happened, they'd only been married a few weeks. They had chalked it up to tension the next day, and were happy it had happened at all.
Bill had taken so long to recover from the injuries acquired at the battle at Hogwarts that they hadn't been able to have a proper honeymoon. They'd spent a few days by the sea, but it hadn't seemed real. He had spent his time watching his wife sunbathe topless and wishing he could sit beside her, admire her beauty, turn cartwheels in the sand to show off for her. But the looks his scarred face had received from the Muggles they'd encountered while strolling on the beach the first day had put him off spending much time in public view.
Even his wife's gaze didn't linger on his face very long. He longed to see that look of sheer lust in her eyes, the one she'd turned on him so many times before.
Before.
The second time it happened, they hadn't expected it. It seemed strange now to think they hadn't paid attention to the phases of the moon. They'd lost track of time, and the full moon had snuck up on them, a softly glowing beacon pulling Bill out of a peaceful sleep to ravage his wife.
She had told him to stop. He simply hadn't listened.
The third time, they were ready. They'd agreed on a safeword in advance, just in case, and then Fleur had proceeded to wring three orgasms out of him in a single hour. He shouldn't have been able to get hard again afterwards, let alone come. But the moon had appeared from behind the clouds some hours after they'd fallen into a sated sleep, and it started again.
She had shouted the safeword, she said the next morning, wiping tears from her cheeks and shouting until she was hoarse. She'd looked right into his eyes and said it, but he hadn't stopped.
She went to France to visit her family before there could be a fourth time. She hadn't come back yet.
"I was wondering when you'd come to see me," Remus said, lifting a chipped cup to his lips. He sipped his tea, wincing at the taste, and set the cup down again.
Bill swallowed his own tea politely, making a mental note not to accept tea from Remus again. It tasted as if it were the third time through the bag.
"I was expecting you a bit sooner, though." Remus smiled, the scars on his face crinkling along with his eyes. Bill wondered what he had looked like before the scars, what he would have looked like had Greyback not mauled him as a child. People would wonder that of him now, he reminded himself.
"I put it off as long as possible," he sighed, letting his fingers trace the rim of the battered cup. "I suppose I didn't want to face it."
Remus nodded, staring into his own cup. He had so far avoided looking at the scarred side of Bill's face, and Bill was glad for it. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to think of where to begin. He'd taken to wearing his hair down since the attack -- it covered part of his face that way.
"We knew there would be some effects from the attack," Bill said, carefully placing his teacup inside a water ring that had stained the wooden table years before. "We just didn't know what they would be."
"And?" Remus asked, meeting his eyes.
Bill pursed his lips. "Thankfully, there's no transformation. I just..." He paused, and then wondered if it was even possible for anyone to tell he was blushing beneath his scarred skin. "It's my… sex drive," he gritted, staring resolutely at his hands. "It becomes uncontrollable."
"I see," Remus said, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Bill forced himself to look up. "You don't understand. I've attacked my wife."
"Ah," Remus replied, apparently unimpressed. "Do you mind if I ask how self-aware you are when it happens?"
"Very much so, but I'm unable to control myself. All I can think about is… taking what I want, without regard for her pleasure or pain." Bill swallowed and looked away again. "She can't fight me off, and I don't listen to her when she tells me to stop. At that moment… it's as if I don't care."
"I understand," Remus told him, his voice gentle. "It isn't exactly the same for me, but there is an awareness after the transformation -- I do remember it, what I did and how out of control I felt."
Bill shook his head. "I don't know what to do. Before the last full moon, I'd thought it would be enough to spend that one night alone every month. I could leave, or she could. As long as we weren't together..." Bill shifted in the chair.
"I take it that didn't work?"
Bill pursed his lips. "I turned on myself instead." It had taken a week for the painful cuts he'd given himself to heal. He had hoped his penis would be the one part of his body that would remain unblemished.
Remus nodded, and didn't flinch. They were silent for a long moment.
Bill sighed. "I'd hoped you would have a suggestion. I don't have anywhere else to turn."
Remus's smile was sad. "The only thing I can suggest at this point is that you find a way to restrain yourself physically. That doesn't work for me. I always seem to break free of any bonds, but if you don't physically transform--"
"What, tie myself down?" Bill asked.
Remus swirled his teacup. "Or find a lover who can handle you once a month."
Bill blinked at him. "That's out of the question. I'm a married man."
Remus shrugged. "Your case is unique. You may have to find your own way in that regard. Are you certain Fleur can't help you?"
Bill shook his head. "I don't know right now. The full moon is days away, and she's… she's not here."
Remus frowned. "You'd be no safer with me, I'm afraid. I'm sorry I can't help you more."
"It wasn't fair of me to ask," Bill replied, pressing a hand against his forehead. The scarred skin felt odd beneath his palm, even after all this time.
"He can barely help himself," a voice said from the shadows. They both looked up to see Harry standing there, watching them. He looked oddly disheveled, his hair messier than usual and his shirt wrinkled, as if he'd slept in it. He stepped forward, staring at Bill.
Bill stared back, trying to contain his surprise. He hadn't seen Harry since the wedding months ago. He had last heard he was in Scotland somewhere, doing something secret and dangerous. Harry sat beside them in an empty chair, his thighs splaying. His feet were bare, and he looked as if he'd just awakened from a nap.
Remus cleared his throat. "Harry is… helping me prepare for the full moon. Tonks is away on Ministry business, and it's not safe for me to be alone, now that I no longer have Wolfsbane to keep me docile." He stared at his hands and looked more uncomfortable than Bill had seen him look in quite a while.
Harry glanced at Remus, but said nothing in response. Bill had an odd feeling he was missing something.
"It's good to see you," Bill said, smiling at Harry.
Harry smiled back, but it wasn't the youthful grin Bill remembered from years ago -- it was darker, sadder. "Yes. I would ask about Fleur, but… I overheard."
Bill pressed his lips together in a tight smile.
"Still," Harry said, fixing Bill with his eyes, "I'm sorry to hear it. I don't suppose there's anything I can do?" There was something strange in his expression, something Bill couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was just that Harry was looking at him so closely -- most people didn't these days.
"You've enough to worry about already," Bill told him.
"Not for a few days, I don't. I'm here to help Remus, but I could do something for you as well." Remus made a coughing sound, but Harry ignored it. "I need to leave the house the night he transforms, anyway. It isn't safe for me to stay here, even though he's confined. My presence would be too tempting." He cast a quick glance at Remus before continuing. "I was going to see if I could kip on your Mum's sofa, but…" He tilted his head, as if the rest of the sentence didn't need to be spoken.
Bill stared back at him, uncertain. "If you need a place to stay, you're more than welcome, but…" He paused as an image of Harry tying him to his own bed flooded his mind. "But maybe not. It probably isn't safe."
Harry frowned. "Why not? It's not as if you're a true werewolf, after all. I can even help restrain you, if you want." His eyes held Bill's, and Bill wondered what he was thinking.
Bill certainly knew what he was thinking, and he didn't like it at all. This was Harry, after all -- his little brother's friend, a slight, messy-haired, genuine kid who'd caught Bill's eye years ago, so long ago that he felt like a pervert even for thinking of it. Harry, with his bright green eyes and his too baggy clothes and his earnest smile and fierce loyalty. Harry, whom Bill had caught wanking in the toilet at the Burrow last Christmas, and who'd stared back at him until he backed out and closed the door, already hard himself.
Bill forced himself to look at Remus. "I don't know. Perhaps this is a bad idea."
Remus's eyes narrowed, and he folded his hands before him on the table. "Actually, I think it's a perfect solution." He looked at Harry thoughtfully, and he didn't smile.
Bill paced the floor of the front parlor. Harry would arrive at any moment, and Bill was going to tell him to go.
He'd been unable to concentrate at the bank that day, his mind filling repeatedly with images of Harry naked and bound to the headboard of Bill's bed -- the bed he shared with his wife, he kept reminding himself. Or did share, before she left to visit her family for an indeterminate length of time.
The point was that he knew he wouldn't be able to resist temptation tonight, and Harry was more of a temptation than he likely knew.
The floo fire activated with a whoosh and Harry slid out, landing on his feet with a great deal more grace than Bill expected. He was wearing loose faded jeans and a scarlet hooded jumper with the Gryffindor emblem on the chest, his hair in its typical state of disarray. He looked like a student, so much younger than he had just a few days before that Bill felt a wave of guilt wash over him for the thoughts that had been filling his mind all day. Harry coughed once, and grinned at him in greeting.
"Right," Bill said, clearing his throat. "So you see, I don't think I'll need you tonight. Sorry for the trouble, but--"
"It's no trouble," Harry said, stepping past him and setting his rucksack on the sofa. He flopped down beside it, slinging a casual arm across the back of the cushions. "Remus is already locked away for the night and Tonks will be back in the morning. I've nothing else to do tonight, nowhere else to go." He smiled.
Bill folded his arms across his chest. "It isn't that I don't want you here, Harry. I just… I'm not sure it's safe for you."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "I think I can take care of myself."
Bill sighed and sat next to him on the sofa. "I know. But I'm asking you to go. Please?"
Harry's forehead furrowed for a moment, but then his expression cleared again. "Remus said you'd be reluctant. He said it was hard for him to accept help too, at first. He didn't want to have to rely on others, not knowing when they'd get frightened and run off, leaving him defenseless and unused to being on his own."
"That's not what I'm worried about," Bill winced. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm not comfortable with this."
Harry turned towards him and his knee pressed into Bill's thigh. "You need help, Bill. I'm not going anywhere."
Bill put his hands over his face and groaned. "Mum always said you were damn stubborn. What am I going to do with you?"
Harry laughed in response. "You'll think of something, I'm sure."
"How's that?" Harry asked, running his fingers over the taut rope.
Bill tugged, but he couldn't move his hand; it was smashed almost painfully against the ornately carved bedpost. "It's rather tight," he replied, "but I think that's a good thing." That fleur-de-lys pattern would remain visible on the backs of his hands for days, but it was better than the alternative.
Harry's fingers trailed lightly over Bill's wrists, and his eyes followed the line of Bill's arm down to his bare chest. "How do you feel?"
Bill's mouth had gone a bit dry: It was early yet -- only ten o'clock -- but it must already be starting. "Fine. You should probably…" He nodded towards the door, unable to meet Harry's gaze.
"Sure," Harry said, stepping away. "If you need anything, just--"
"I will," Bill said. He waited for the sound of the door closing, and then he groaned.
He was half-hard in his pyjama bottoms already. It was going to be a long night.
He was wrenched awake when the house was still and quiet, the room oddly bright by the light of the moon. He was panting, his cock was painfully hard, and he could smell Harry in the next room. Fuck all, the boy had wanked -- the scent filled Bill's nostrils, sharp and musky, and it was making him crazy.
"Damn it, Harry," he gritted, struggling against his bonds. His body ached for release and these fucking ropes were -- why had he agreed to this in the first place?
The door creaked open and the scent of Harry became even stronger. Bill took a deep breath, drinking it in, tasting the scent of him.
"You're awake," he heard Harry say, his voice lower than Bill expected. "Are you all right?"
"No," Bill spat, struggling.
"The rope won't break, you know." Harry was closer, but still not in Bill's line of sight. His scent was so strong it was nearly overwhelming. A hand brushed against his forearm, and Bill groaned. "You look uncomfortable. Can I help?"
A voice in his head whispered that he should tell Harry to leave. He doubted it would have any effect, though, as telling Harry no certainly hadn't worked yet. Besides, he was still standing there, staring down at Bill and likely well aware of the erection tenting Bill's pyjamas.
"Yes," Bill gasped as a dozen images flitted through his mind, each more shocking than the last. The voice in the back of his mind was silenced. "God, yes."
Harry came into view at last and sat next to him on the bed. He looked the picture of innocence with his green eyes wide and his hair tousled. He wearing the scarlet hoodie over his pyjamas, and he'd left his glasses in the other room. It made him look less like himself, somehow. Bill sighed, trying to keep that thought in his mind. Harry was a child, he reminded himself -- seventeen, yes, and fighting for his life against the most powerful wizard who had ever lived, sure -- but he was a child in many ways. Innocent. Inexperienced.
Harry stared right at him and licked his lips.
Innocent my arse, Bill thought. He struggled against his bonds again, groaning.
"I want to help you," Harry said. He hesitated a moment more before leaning over Bill's hips and placing one hand on the mattress on the other side, his chest right over Bill's groin. "What would you like me to do?" He chewed his lower lip, as if nervous.
Bill had to bite his tongue to keep the words that came to his lips from escaping. He'd never had more than a passing interest in men, but Harry's nymphet behavior was driving Bill mad. He could barely remember the last time he'd wanted someone this much.
"I'm to guess, then?" A strange smile crossed Harry's face, and he looked down. Bill felt his cock twitch under that gaze, and he could only watch as Harry ducked his head and pressed his open mouth against the fabric. Bill arched up, groaning through clenched teeth as Harry's hot breath moved through the fabric, searing sensitive skin. Bill closed his eyes. He felt a few nips, and then Harry dragged the pyjama bottoms downwards with his teeth.
Bill raised his hips enough to allow them to be slid down a few inches, enough to free his cock. It bounced against his belly, the tip cooling when the fluid leaking from it met the air. He felt a fingertip being drawn down the side.
"Interesting scar," Harry said, then traced the tip of his tongue along it. "Is that what you did to yourself?"
"Yes," Bill replied, panting. "With a razor -- I thought the pain would make it go away." He didn't even flinch at the memory; at the moment it seemed perfectly reasonable. He'd pulled himself off three times that night, but it hadn't been enough. The urge to take had been so strong that it had overwhelmed him.
"Did it hurt?" Harry asked, nipping his way down the shaft.
"Yes," Bill gasped. "Oh for fuck's sake, just suck it!"
There was a muffled laugh, and then Bill's cock was engulfed. He cried out at the sensation, so much more intense than usual, every flick of tongue or brush of teeth nearly excruciating. Bill thrust his hips up, trying to shove his cock as far down Harry's throat as he could, but Harry pushed him back down. He was stronger than he looked.
For all Harry seemed to be innocent, it quickly became clear that this wasn't the first time he had done this -- his technique wasn't as good as Fleur's, but it wasn't bad either. He used his hands and tongue to great effect, and it wasn't long before Bill felt his orgasm building.
He forced himself to look down to where the moonlight revealed Harry's dark head bobbing, lips stretched taut around the girth of Bill's cock, and he felt a spike of intense desire. It was separate from the pleasure of Harry's hot mouth, distinct from the spiraling tightening in his groin -- something else altogether. He tugged at his bonds again, feeling a desperate need to clench that dark hair in his fingers, to bury himself in that mouth and just take.
He came with a hoarse cry, the rush of pleasure tempered by a burn at his wrists. A second later he felt hair under his fingers and he hauled Harry upwards, smashing their mouths together. Harry made a sound of surprise, but he didn't struggle. His hands scrabbled against Bill's arms as if looking for a place to hang on for dear life, but he didn't try to get away.
Bill tasted himself on Harry's tongue and found he'd become completely hard again -- he knew from experience that he would be all but insatiable for the next few hours, as long as the moon was visible. His cock was pressed against Harry's belly, hot and still wet from Harry's mouth, now sliding against taut skin.
And all Bill could think was more.
His wand flew into his hand as he flipped Harry over onto his belly; a murmured spell bound Harry's hands to the headboard of the bed.
"Shit," Harry spat, scrambling onto his knees. He struggled against the magical bonds, but the tendrils of light held. He looked over his shoulder at Bill, his eyes wide. "Bill?"
There was a flicker of fear on Harry's face, but Bill was too far gone to care. He smiled instead, trailing one hand down Harry's spine, watching the way muscles moved under the smooth skin.
"You're beautiful," Bill whispered. He slid one finger beneath the waistband of the thin pyjama bottoms and tugged them down to reveal Harry's arse. He traced a finger down the cleft and felt a desire so strong he could taste it in his mouth. "God, I could eat you alive."
"Bill," Harry gasped again, his head hanging forward now. It sounded like a plea.
With another flick of Bill's wand, Harry was naked, the pyjamas and hoodie banished to the other side of the room. Bill leaned forward, unable to resist inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of Harry -- sweat and arousal, and… something else. Something familiar.
He pulled Harry's head back by the hair, barely able to suppress a growl. "Remus has had you tonight."
Harry's only response was a gasp of surprise.
Bill stared a moment more, then fumbled for his wand. He cast a few cleansing spells, the last one with the tip of his wand pressed into Harry's arse, eliciting a sound much like a sob from him. Bill tossed the wand aside and let his hands slide down Harry's back, down over his arse.
"Are you going to cry, Harry?" he asked, scowling at the pale smooth skin beneath his fingers. He wanted to see it blemished, raw, bruised by his own hand. How dare this boy come to him like this, smelling of another?
"No," Harry replied, his breath hitching a bit. "Are you going to hurt me?"
"Yes," Bill told him, feeling a strange exhilaration. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent that was now just Harry before drawing his hand back and bringing it down hard on his arse. The sound it made against Harry's skin was deeply satisfying, as was the way Harry's body jolted forward from the impact. Harry cried out in surprise, but he didn't struggle. Bill hit him again and again, marveling at the way the skin turned pink beneath his palms. "Do you like sucking his cock?" he hissed, punctuating the last word with another slap on Harry's arse.
"Nnnngh," Harry groaned, his head hanging forward between his arms. "Wh- what?"
"Do you like sucking Remus's cock?" Bill spat. He brought his hand down again, harder, and Harry hissed.
"Yes," he panted, almost defiantly. "I do."
Bill slapped him twice more for that, then smoothed his palm over the tender skin. "Does he suck you?"
"Yes."
He let one finger slide into the crack of Harry's arse, circling his hole. "Does he fuck you?"
Harry made a strangled sound and didn't reply.
Bill settled behind him, pulling the cheeks of his arse apart with his fingers and blowing a breath across the puckered hole. "I'll bet he does. I'll bet he fucks you every chance he gets, right on the bed he shares with Tonks." He flicked his tongue across the hole lightly, and Harry whimpered.
"No… oh god… He doesn't--"
"Of course he does," Bill said, and swirled his tongue in a circle. "I'll bet he eats you out as well." He wriggled his tongue and pressed the tip of it into the center of the tight hole.
"He won't fuck me," Harry panted. Bill could feel him trembling with every press inward of his tongue. "I… asked him to do, but he won't."
"He's a fool," Bill snorted, then pressed his face into Harry's arse, thrusting with his tongue and clenching Harry's hips tight. Harry pressed back, making a sound almost like a whine. Bill's tongue finally breached him, the ring of muscle quivering as it relaxed, allowing him to lick just inside.
"Oh god," Harry groaned, his voice muffled. "He's not done that either."
Harry's voice rang in Bill's ears, the sound driving him even more mad with desire. He wanted to sink his teeth into the body before him, swallow him whole. He thrust his tongue into Harry as far as he could, but it wasn't enough. He fumbled on the bed and found his wand, then cast a wordless engorgio on his tongue. Harry yelped at the sensation of it swelling in his anus, lengthening just enough that the tip could press against--
"Nnnaagh!" Harry's knees nearly gave, but Bill's hand on his hip kept him up. Harry's face was pressing into the pillow beneath him, his arms awkwardly stretched above his head and his arse in the air as he writhed against Bill's face. The tip of Bill's tongue flicked against the nub inside him, with just enough pressure to make him shudder, but not enough to make him hypersensitive. Bill wanted him pliable and needy. It would be easier that way.
By the time he withdrew and cast a finite on his tongue, Harry was incoherent. A quick lubrication spell was cast, one Bill had forgotten he knew until that moment, and it allowed him to ram his cock into Harry with little resistance. He stayed like that for nearly a minute, balls-deep in Harry's body, relishing the tight heat engulfing his prick and the sight of Harry's arsehole stretched around the thick shaft. He let his fingers trail over the pink skin of Harry's arse, and exhaled.
This was perfect. It was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. He hadn't found anything yet that felt quite like this. And yet… It wasn't enough. He wanted more. He wanted to possess Harry, to have him in ways no one had ever had him. He growled in frustration.
"You're mine now," he hissed, starting to move. "All mine." He punctuated this with a hard thrust in, enjoying the way the impact pressed Harry's face into the pillow. "Remus can't have you, not anymore."
He grasped Harry's hips and pressed into him with long even strokes, the kind that always made Fleur switch to French. Not even the thought of his wife tempered the feeling, though -- Harry was tight and writhing beneath him, groaning in either pain or pleasure, but Bill didn't care which. All that mattered was that it felt amazing.
"Bill, let me go," he heard through the haze. He looked up to see Harry looking back over his shoulder, his eyes dark. "Please."
"No," Bill grunted. "You'll run away."
Harry made a sound almost like a laugh. "Are you mad? My hands hurt and I… I just want to touch myself. Please."
Bill thrust into him a few more times, then reached beneath Harry to stroke his cock. It was hot and heavy -- Harry was undeniably aroused. He wanted this, Bill decided.
Bill's fingers barely brushed his wand as he released the magical binds.
There was a flurry of movement, so fast it caught him off-guard. He lunged forward, but Harry was no longer beneath him. He snarled and looked around, and then a flash of light left him seeing stars and unable to move. His hands had been bound to the headboard using the very same spell he had cast earlier.
"Fuck," he spat, looking around awkwardly. He managed to get his knees beneath him, and then a hand was on the back of his neck, pushing his face down to the bed.
"Oh, this is a lovely view," Harry said from behind him. One hand trailed down Bill's back. "And how clever of you to use that binding spell. It's a shame I didn't think of it earlier."
"Release me," Bill hissed, though he knew it was futile.
"Not yet," Harry replied. "Not until I'm finished with you." Bill felt a second of warmth behind him, and then Harry's cock pressed into the crack of his arse. "Tell me the lubrication spell."
"No," Bill spat, feeling an odd sort of panic flood him. He'd never bottomed, had never wanted to do. He struggled against the magical bindings, grunting from the effort.
"Very well," Harry said, and Bill felt the blunt tip of Harry's prick push against his arsehole. "We can do it the hard way."
"Wait!" Bill cried, his fists clenching uselessly above his head. "It's madefacio," he said through gritted teeth, feeling his arse clench in anticipation.
He felt something hard and cool being inserted into his arsehole -- his own wand. Harry repeated the spell and Bill felt a strange wetness filled him. He squirmed and clenched his eyes shut. The sensation wasn't unpleasant, but he felt quite uncomfortable. Harry pressed a finger into his arse as if testing to see that the spell had worked, and Bill realized just how vulnerable he was -- bound, arse in the air, about to be fucked. He whimpered into the pillow, wondering why he was still hard.
Harry pressed forward again, and Bill felt the head of his cock breach his body.
"Relax," Harry whispered, stroking the skin on the small of his back. "It isn't that big."
The attempt at humor brought Bill back to himself a bit, and the reality of what was happening washed over him. This was Harry, he reminded himself. Harry wouldn't hurt him, despite the fact that Bill wouldn't have hesitated to do so.
Hadn't hesitated, actually. Bill's eyes widened. What had he done?
Harry pressed forward slowly, and Bill buried his face into the pillow beneath him, wincing. He tried to relax, but it was difficult whilst being speared in the arse. His erection wilted, and he groaned.
"God, it's tight," Harry sighed, buried to the hilt at last. "Are you all right?"
"Yes," Bill lied through clenched teeth. He deserved this. He deserved to be fucked and used by Harry, after everything he'd done. He was mortified -- he'd spanked the boy, for Merlin's sake, after tying him down and -- and he'd broken the ropes, and he had no idea how. His eyes burned, and he kept them closed.
Harry started to move inside him and the physical sensation wrenched Bill back from the edge of losing control of his emotions. He focused on the feeling of pain mixed with twinges of pleasure, on the fullness inside him and the disconcerting sensation of Harry's prick pulling out of him over and over. It almost felt as if he were soiling himself. The thought made Bill laugh.
"You're back," Harry said.
"Yes," Bill replied, realizing with a start that it was true. He couldn't tell if the moon had disappeared or not, but it seemed to be over. Harry's next thrust was angled a bit differently, and the jolt of pleasure made Bill gasp.
"Good," Harry panted. "I'd rather be doing this with you than with..." His movements became shallow and erratic, and it was over in a matter of seconds. Harry groaned when he came and collapsed onto Bill's back, his breath hot against Bill's cheek. "God, that felt good," he panted. "I've never actually come inside someone before."
Bill felt a chill wash over him. Harry had technically been a virgin until tonight, and he had--
Harry rolled off him and stretched out beside him, casting a finite. Bill rubbed at his wrists and rolled onto his back, looking at Harry with trepidation.
"I'm so, so sorry," he said, bringing his hands up to tangle in his hair. "This was exactly was I was afraid of. I knew I couldn't stop myself from…" He pressed one hand over his eyes.
Harry sighed and wriggled closer. "Don't you think I knew that, Bill? I understood what I was getting myself into."
Bill shook his head, the shock of what he'd done fully settling in. "I… I raped you, Harry."
Harry snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Did I ever say 'no'?" Bill didn't reply, and Harry settled against his shoulder. "I didn't. Sure, it got a bit rougher than I expected, but…"
Bill shook his head and dropped his hand, staring at the ceiling. "You were frightened, and I-- I only used that against you."
"I wasn't frightened, just surprised after you broke free."
"You deserve better for your first time than--"
"I'm wasn't a virgin, Bill. I've done stuff before." He smirked, looking remarkably like Sirius for a moment. "Besides, this was kind of exciting."
"Don't pretend you liked it," Bill said, shaking his head. "That only makes it worse."
"Will you shut up?" Harry retorted, propping himself up on one elbow and staring down at Bill. "I'm not pretending, and I'm not trying to make you feel better. I came here to help you. I knew full well what your condition would be. Remus told me everything."
Bill stared back at him, shocked. "Remus told you?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, placing one warm hand on Bill's chest. "He asked me if I thought I could handle you if you got rough, and... We practiced a bit." Harry blushed and looked down.
"You and Remus?" Bill blinked at him, remembering how the scent of Remus had affected him earlier. "How long have you two…?"
Harry shrugged. "Here and there. It's not a big deal, blow jobs, mostly. It helps him sleep when the full moon is getting close, and… I need a release sometimes too. I trust him."
"What about Tonks?"
"She's isn't around much these days." Harry shrugged, as if it weren't his problem that Remus was cheating on his girlfriend. There must be more to that story than Bill knew.
Bill looked at the ceiling again, still feeling queasy. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Quite the contrary," Harry said, starting to smile. "I didn't know I liked being… spanked," He buried his face in Bill's armpit.
Bill took a deep breath and released it. It seemed that no harm had been done -- he could at least be grateful for that. "I'm sorry," he sighed.
Harry's head popped up and he smiled. The light in the room now came from the Muggle streetlight outside, and it made Harry's scar look nearly black against his pale forehead. "I mean it, Bill -- it's all right. I had fun."
Bill closed his eyes and snorted. "Good for you, but what am I supposed to do now? It comes again in a month, and I'm no closer to finding a way to deal with it by myself."
Harry sighed. "Perhaps you don't have to deal with it yourself."
Bill looked up at him. "I'm married. I love my wife. I don't want to cheat on her once a month."
"She might understand."
"That's beside the point," Bill replied. "I don't want to do it. I love her, Harry."
Harry nodded. His eyes raked over Bill's scarred face, as if studying him.
Bill looked at the ceiling, suddenly self-conscious. "Stop."
"Stop what?"
"Stop looking at me."
Harry reached out and touched his cheek, his fingers feeling thick against the scarred skin. "Bill, what is it?"
Bill took a deep breath and released it, focusing on the sound. "I never realized how much of my identity was dependent on how I looked. I don't want it to be that way, but it is. And the worst part is that the way I look on the outside becomes who I am on the inside one night a month."
"I understand," Harry told him. "I know what it's like to have something that makes you different."
"It isn't the same," Bill retorted. "Your scar may be more significant, but it doesn't cover half your face. It doesn't make children cower behind their mothers when you walk past. It doesn't make people shrink away and stare in horror."
"We all have scars," Harry said. The tone of his voice was quiet and soothing, nearly liquid. "The size of them isn't really important. It's how you let them affect you. I know that much." He settled against Bill's side again and waved his hand. The rumpled bedding rose and slid over them, tucking itself around them snugly.
Bill didn't reply. He didn't want to think about it any more. He didn't want to deal with it. His marriage was less than half a year old, and for all he knew it was already over. The fact that he'd fucked Harry Potter tonight certainly wasn't going to help matters.
He watched the shadows flicker on the ceiling until Harry's breath grew shallow and even. Bill closed his eyes.
He was alone the next morning. He sat up and squinted around the bright room. He hadn't awakened when Harry had left, which was unusual for him. He rubbed at his eyes and sighed. He had another month to figure out what to do, but at least it was over for now.
He stood and rummaged on the floor for his pyjamas, pulling them on while planning his day. It was Saturday and he had some errands to run -- but maybe a spot of tea first.
He pushed open the door of the bedroom, yawning, and then froze at the sight before him: Harry and Fleur were seated at the dining table, talking quietly and sipping tea. They looked up at him and smiled.
The first thought Bill had was God, she's beautiful, followed shortly by, This is going to be fucking awkward.
Fleur gestured to an empty chair and he stumbled across the room in a daze, nearly collapsing into it. "When did you get back?" he asked.
She waved her wand and the teapot poured him a cup. "This morning. I was going to surprise you." Her accent rolled over his ears, and he thought he would cry. He'd missed her so much. "And I am finding you in bed with Harry."
Bill was sure the blood had just drained from his face. He glanced at Harry, who was smiling sheepishly.
"I was angry, yes," she continued, raising her chin in that way she did when she had an important point to make. "But Harry, he has explained it all. He says he has helped you, and he has…" She paused to glance at Harry. "He has told to me what I must do to help you now."
Bill turned to Harry, his eyes wide. "You… what?"
Harry shrugged. "Remus told me the key was to figure out what you needed. If we knew what that was, we could find a way to let you have it -- safely."
"And what is it that I need?" Bill asked, looking back and forth between them.
Fleur pursed her lips. "You want to be taken," she said. "You want to be…" she blinked and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "Dominated, is that the word?"
"Yes," Harry and Bill said, simultaneously.
Bill blushed and stared into his teacup.
"Well, I'll leave you to work out the details," Harry said, standing. "I have to meet Hermione in Hogsmeade anyway -- research, you know." He crossed to Fleur and they exchanged kisses, and then he turned to Bill.
"Thank you," Bill said. It seemed a strange thing to say, but it was the only thing he could think of.
Harry grinned at him, then leaned forward and kissed him lightly. "Let me know if you need anything. Remus will know where to find me." He winked at Fleur, and then crossed to the fireplace.
He left in a rush of green flame. Bill and Fleur sat in silence for nearly a minute.
"I missed you," Bill told her at last, reaching for her hand. "I'm sorry about all of this. I tried to get him to leave before anything happened, but--"
Fleur took his hand and let herself be pulled into his lap. "I am not jealous, you know. Harry is a boy, and I am a woman. It is not the same." She trailed a finger down the scarred side of his face, and he flinched away. She grasped his jaw firmly in her small hand and held him still while she kissed a trail from his jaw to his forehead. "Harry told me he buggered you," she whispered into his ear.
Bill nodded, unable to do anything but breathe. God, he'd forgotten how she smelled.
"I would like to do that," she said, one hand drifting down his belly, ever lower. "I would need to buy something, but…" The tip of her tongue traced the shell of his ear. "Or perhaps we can ask Harry to come back sometime?"
"We?" Bill gasped. An image of the three of them in bed together flickered across his mind, and it was all he could do not to moan.
"Oui," she said, shifting so that she was straddling him. She placed her palms on both sides of his face and stared into his eyes. "I love you, Bill. It all will be fine. I promise you this."
Bill's eyes were burning again, but he didn't close them. He stared back into hers, drinking in the fierce expression on her face. "I missed you so much," he breathed.
She smiled and let one hand slide down between his thighs to the bulge in his pyjamas. "I can see that," she replied.
Bill grinned and let his head fall back against the chair. It was going to be all right. They would be fine, and she wasn't angry, and--
She kissed him hard, and Bill didn't think again for quite a while.
~ fin ~