Title: Planets Shift (and the moon's erased)
Author: envinyatar15
Pairings: Bill/Charlie, with a side-dish of Bill/Fleur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: adultery, incest, a momentary suggestion of underage (Charlie is 17)
Themes/kinks chosen: adultery
Word Count: 4,577
Summary: Charlie is like a drug, and Bill is in way over his head. It's too late for him to go cold turkey now.
Author's notes: You cannot imagine how loudly I squeed when I saw "adultery" up for October. I actually wanted to write something else and more involved for this, but time ended up running away from me - so I had to come up with something else, and quickly. I'm glad I got sick and had to stay home so this piece could get written, ha. Yay body for timing! Many many thanks go to eeyore9990 and rubytuesday5681 for their very quick turn-around when I got desperate - any remaining mistakes are, as usual, my own. Title is from Aimee Mann's "Lost in Space": Lost in space / A bubble drifting / Into a place / Where planets shift and / The moon's erased / Its features lift in the glare



"Gringotts asked me to become a curse-breaker," Bill tells the fully gathered Weasley clan, breaking into the chaotic conversation raging around him. It's the first evening they're all together again for the duration of summer break, and Bill thought this would be the best occasion to break the news to his family.

What greets his announcement is baffled silence, deafening after the roar of voices talking over each other.

Bill soldiers on, his shoulders squared. "I'm starting training in August. But...," and here he has to stop, draw a breath, try not to look at Charlie, "I'm going to have to move to Egypt."

For another moment his siblings blink owlishly at him. Bill remains tense in his chair, his heart hammering in his chest. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees how stunned Charlie looks, how his mouth opens and closes again, fish-like. Bill steadfastly focuses on his mother, turning his head to the side so he doesn't have Charlie in his line of sight anymore. His mother is the one person in the room he expects to break the silence.

Molly Weasley is reliable as always, and she moves her hand to her mouth, gushes "My Bill! At Gringotts!" Bill smiles wearily as she starts forward from where she was sitting by his father's side and flings herself in his arms. She crushes him with her weight, embraces him like it's the last time she will get the chance, and her tears begin to run freely against the shirt covering his shoulder.

Bill doesn't mind. He buries his head in her neck and clings to her likewise. It means he doesn't have to look at the anguished expression on his brother's face.

*~*~*

Bill ignores Charlie and his attempts to talk to him for the rest of the night. Under the pretence of tiredness, he flees to his room early, feels Charlie's eyes follow him across the room and up the stairs.

His brother's gaze is like a knife between his shoulder blades. The imprint of the feeling lingers even as he lies down on his bed, making it impossible to find sleep. Bill isn't sure how long he rests there unmoving as he listens to the house slowly getting ready to face sleep.

When quiet has settled over the Burrow, the door to Bill's room opens, letting uncomfortably bright light stream in. His eyes cut from the dark ceiling to the shadow slipping in before the door closes again.

Heavy breathing resounds in the air, and Bill's eyes remain on where he feels the intruder to be. His own heart beats frantically in his chest. He doesn't move a limb, tries to be as non-existent as possible on the bed, and keeps his breathing controlled. Still he's sure his heartbeat must be heard over the distance.

No light comes in from the window, which is covered with a thick curtain. Complete, impenetrable darkness surrounds Bill and the shadow among shadows in his room.

"Bill -" The whisper from beside the door startles Bill violently even though he expected some kind of sound from his brother. With one snap of muscles he's sitting up in the bed, peering into the blackness. "Bill," the voice whispers again, a rough sound that makes Bill's heart ache. Then the sounds of feet closing the distance between them, and Bill fancies he can almost see Charlie: makes out the outline of his stocky form, the shape of his face as it descends and ghosts down his forehead, cheekbone, back to his ear with a suggestion of touch. A breathy wind moves his hair, resounding in the shell of his ear, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Charlie," Bill whispers in response, voice raw as he sits stock-still, muscles tense and ready for the leap. His mouth opens then closes. He wishes he knew what else to say, but all his refined communication skills have deserted him, leaving a gaping void in the middle of his brain that pain and fear have filled.

A hand comes up and caresses his cheek. Charlie keeps breathing against his ear, and then he begins to softly push Bill back against the surface of the bed. Bill lets it happen. He doesn't have any strength left to defy Charlie this.

August, Bill tells himself and closes his eyes. August.

Then the mattress dips under Charlie's weight as he settles on top of Bill and leans down, catching his brother's lips in a demanding kiss.

*~*~*

The summer days go by in a flurry of heat only occasionally broken by thunderstorms. The threat of tension snapping hangs over them; Bill stays out of Charlie's way, and Charlie does the same.

They used to be gone all day long together, even the year before. They used to use their time for themselves and not spend it apart; Bill with his younger siblings hanging on to him, Charlie with a half-amused, half-annoyed glint heating his eyes. There were times when they went to the lake with their herd of little ones surrounding them. Just one glance from Charlie, accompanied by a knowing smirk and an unimportant gesture that meant the world to Bill, and even Bill wished their siblings were gone already so he could take Charlie, drag him into the water and fuck him senseless there, punishing him for his daring in front of their family.

The two of them were always a little like fire and ice, but they fitted themselves together and became inseparable. Keeping secrets in a large family is easier than in a small one, Bill has learnt.

Now, Charlie stalks off and keeps to himself, doesn't even look at Bill. Some nights he just announces to the general public he's not going to be home that night either and then he's gone, cracking away to visit one of his friends.

Bill feels a little cracked, too, like something is missing in his life and he knows very well what it is, but he's not doing anything to get it back. Instead he smiles indulgently when Ginny comes up to him and wants to sit on his lap, her sleepy eyes looking up at him. If his smile is a little strained and his answers rather short, well, then there are enough other voices loudly sharing their opinions to drown him and his silence.

*~*~*

The summer nights go by in wordless heat, Charlie assaulting Bill as soon as the house is quiet. He comes back from where he spent his evening reeking of alcohol and smoke, and he slides into Bill's bed without uttering a word of anything. Bill isn't sure what he expects from Charlie, anger most likely, but this eerie quiet is certainly not it. It freaks him out and he turns to his brother in the dark, question on his tongue.

What they do is dangerous, but their game always has been. It's not that which makes Bill deeply uneasy. The thrill of adrenaline becomes routine after a while in a way that Charlie's body, the sound of his laughter, the mischievous glint in his eyes, never did. What makes Bill uneasy is rather that what they're doing is wrong. It's immoral, it's forbidden, it's sick, and it's all the things Bill finds contemptuous. He's supposed to be a role model - the word makes him sick, because he knows, Merlin he knows how much he isn't. They should have stopped a long time ago - or at least the moment they realised just how bloody wrong their desires are.

Charlie is like a drug though, and Bill is in way over his head. It's too late for him to go cold turkey now. He still finds himself giving in to Charlie, kisses back fiercely, lets his tongue do battle against Charlie's and loses deliberately. He lets himself be manhandled on his back while Charlie's eyes gleam down at him, turns around of his own volition, raising himself to hands and knees and silently begging for Charlie to take him. Charlie takes care to stretch him, murmurs "Yeah" and "You're greedy, aren't you?" and "Gonna fuck you" against Bill's skin. Their ragged breathing mingles and fills the room, and then Charlie positions himself and slides home. Bill has to bite down hard on his lip to keep from crying out. This is familiar and it's so damn good.

It's what he wants, what he needs, what he craves with all his being, and he's going to give it up. Soon. The thing about being with Charlie is that it's wrong but it doesn't feel that way. His brother's cock up his ass, each thrust sending a shiver up his spine, is just how Bill thinks he's supposed to be. Sweet pain of skin stretched tight mixes with the incredible pleasure of being filled to the brim, no more thoughts or fears clouding the brain. The lump that's been sitting in his chest for so many days rises, chokes him; Charlie keeps pushing forward, chest against back, his hands against Bill's hips bruising. Bill can picture how his brother bares his teeth, trying to keep his control, trying to draw this out, so he moves back against Charlie. Bill clenches the muscles of his ass around his brother's cock to tell him to go harder, further, more. Charlie's breathing hitches and the next moment he hits the sweet spot inside and that's it, that's what Bill's been waiting for. He lets go of the tension that's been racketing up inside, lets go of his insecurities and fears. Reaching for his cock, he pulls, rough and fast, and then he's coming hard, the lump clogging his throat preventing any sound from coming out as he spurts on the bed sheets. Through the buzz in his ears he hears Charlie groan under his breath, the only distinctive sound apart from the slip-slide of their wet bodies, and Bill feels as Charlie comes, stiffening above him and releasing the tension that's obviously been high in his muscles all day long.

*~*~*

Egypt is hot. Hot and really amazing. Bill immerses himself in his curse-breaker training. He's lucky; he works with some of the most renowned names in the field, and if he's honest, he doesn't have a lot of time to focus on anything but work. The sun smirks down at him and melts away any thoughts he might have had. In the evenings he's too tired to miss his home a lifetime away, just drops dead to the world onto his cot and sleeps dreamlessly.

*~*~*

Christmas back home is torture that year. Ten weeks away from his family and Bill feels different, free, like the desert is his new home. But now he's thrown back into the past and all the things he's been trying to bury come back up, stronger than before.

He enters The Burrow with apprehension running high in his veins. He said he'd arrive a few days later than he actually is, to make it a surprise. He loves surprising his mother, because Merlin knows she doesn't have enough pleasant moments in her life. So he's taken it upon himself to give her as many of those as possible. He thought this might at least be one little thing he can do for her.

He opens the door carefully, closes it behind him, and then he sneaks into the kitchen, where he knows at this time of the day his mother will be. A smile graces his features.

Ginny sees him first. She squeals loudly and throws herself at him. Bill laughs loudly and takes her up in his arms, flinging her around. His mother turns around, sees him, and basically has the same reaction.

Everything is just as it should be.

*~*~*

They sit down for tea after the first squee has died down. His mother looks at him, fondness and worry and I missed you shining in her eyes. Bill suspects the same may be said for him, but he still can't help the way his muscles clamp up. He takes care to look comfortable, smiles up at his mother as she hands him his cup of tea.

"You look thin," she says. "You haven't been eating enough, have you?"

Bill rolls his eyes at her, says "I'm fine," but it doesn't really reach his eyes.

Molly's gaze goes sharp, and Bill ducks his head a little, blushing under her scrutiny.

"I'm fine, really," he insists. "I'm eating enough. Training is just pretty tiring."

Her eyes go soft at that, and Bill feels guilt mounting up inside.

*~*~*

A few days later a letter arrives. His father takes it from the owl, lets her rest for a while, gives her water and food.

"It's got Charlie's writing," he mumbles in the direction of the room at large, and Bill, who has been playing chess with Ron, immediately focuses on him. His head whips away from the chess set in front of him, his eyes boring into the letter in his father's hand.

His father reads the letter and a crease begins to form on his forehead. "Charlie's not coming."

Ron's head whips up as well. "What?"

Bill throws his little brother a look, thankful that it's not him who asked the question.

Arthur reads a little further, and the frown clears to give way to a blinding smile. "He's not coming because he's got an offer to go to Romania when he's finished with school. To train for Dragon-keeper."

Bill blinks at the news. Something heavy settles in his stomach.

*~*~*

Merry Christmas, big brother, is all Charlie's letter says a few days later. His handwriting is sloppy, almost unintelligible, as if he just barely thought of writing to Bill at all. Bill crumbles the letter in his hand; a sharp object sticks into his palm. When he turns the parchment around he finds a dragon fang attached to it.

*~*~*

Forgetting becomes easier after that. Bill rarely returns home anymore, if at all; drops in quickly to get the requisite well-wishes over with and then, murmuring something about work, Apparates away just as quickly. Not because he doesn't want to be around his family – quite the opposite, he is a family man, misses his little siblings like a limb – but because he doesn't want to be around Charlie.

Sometimes avoidance is the best strategy.

Charlie moves to Romania the next summer.

Bill wears the dragon fang as an earring and lets his hair grow out. His mother disapproves, but Bill can't bring himself to take it out. Under the hot sun of Egypt, sweat running down his face and his back because he refuses to work with a Cooling Charm cloaking him, he tries to redefine himself. Here, so far away from home and temptation, he lets out the not-quite-obedient part of himself Charlie had always teased he possessed, but didn't allow out to play if it weren't for Charlie.

*~*~*

The years go by. Bill sees Charlie at family gatherings, tries to ignore him as much as possible except for tense greetings and manly back-slapping. There is always a certain something in Charlie's eyes that Bill is past acknowledging, so he tries to make it as easy as possible for both of them. Still glances sometimes leave their paths, travel in the direction of a muscular form, Muggle-formed trousers hanging off narrow hips and threatening to fall off, shirt clinging to shoulders and stretching over a broad chest.

Bill swallows heavily then abruptly turns around.

"You're a bloody coward, you know that, right?" a warm breath whispers against his ear. "Can't even look at me."

Bill jerks away from the familiar presence against his back. The plate he's been putting food on almost falls out of his hand to shatter on the ground (and wouldn't that have been spectacular, just the right thing to draw everyone's attention on the two of them, fucking Christ). Charlie is quicker though, his hand already steadying Bill's.

Goosebumps he's been trying to suppress break out on his arms, his breath hitches. His eyes are inevitably drawn to Charlie's and Bill shudders a little under his touch, warmth beginning to pool in his stomach. The heat he sees in Charlie's eyes burns right through his defenses, years of wantneeddesire breaking free.

And Bill is gone.

* ~*~*

"You've no idea how much I need this," Charlie pants against him. Bill doesn't answer, just keeps on licking a wet path from Charlie's ear down to his collarbone. His hands are glued to Charlie's hips and he couldn't take them off if he wanted – which he decidedly doesn't.

Bill bites down on the bone, eliciting a deep moan from Charlie's throat. "Fuck," he curses, a breathy whisper as Bill undulates his hips against Charlie. "Fuck."

Bill agrees. He has Charlie backed up against the wall just beside the door, couldn't keep it together for longer when Charlie dragged him away from the family party. Just threw himself at his brother, all consequences be damned, and kissed the life out of him.

Bill is harder than he remembers ever being, lust racing through his veins in a raging storm. He's shaking, can't even make quick work of Charlie's button and zipper as he lets one hand wander from its place against Charlie's hip to the middle, against the bulge in Charlie's trousers. Charlie moans again, always louder than he has any right to be. Their ragged breathing heats the air around them, makes it glow, and Bill only has eyes for the expression on Charlie's face, one he hasn't seen in years and yet never forgot.

"Bill," Charlie groans, frustration evident in his voice, and Bill can't help but smirk. "C'mon, fuck don't make me wait any more -" Bill licks another stripe over Charlie's skin, revelling in the taste of him, then he descends on Charlie's mouth, lets his lips and tongue claim his brother in a searing kiss. Then the button gives under his uncoordinated ministrations, the zipper slides down, and Bill has Charlie hard and hot against his hand, no pants, no more barriers, just this.

Bill growls low in his throat as he palms Charlie, slides his hand up to the tip just to find pre-come already leaking from the slit. The realisation makes him jut his hips forward, pressing against Charlie's leg for much-needed friction. His other hand slides beneath Charlie's shirt, his hand hot and hard against Charlie's stomach and waist.

After this it's quick work, low groans and sweaty whispers of skin on skin, and when they come, release hits in dark-coloured swirls. Bill bites down hard on Charlie's neck, tries to stifle his uncontrolled moan against the skin of his brother as he shoots down his own trousers.

They take a moment to catch their breath. Bill is the first to move, takes his hand away from Charlie's now soft cock. Wet trails of come cool rapidly on the back of his hand and on his palm, but before he can wipe it off, Charlie seems to have regained semi-consciousness. He takes Bill's hand in one of his and moves it up to his face, gaze locked with Bill's, then proceeds to lick his own come off Bill's hand.

Bill feels like his knees are going to give out from under him any moment now as he watches Charlie's tongue do quick work of the mess. The feeling is incredible, a soft caress Bill almost forgot existed. He doesn't blink, is entirely fixated on the sight before him, illuminated by the sun streaming in through the window.

He's never seen anything this wild and beautiful. Charlie's hair stands up in every direction, a blush graces his features, and he's licking his own come off Bill's hand. His irises are wide, satisfaction speaking from their depths.

Then there's a sound from below, and reality hits Bill like lightning. He jerks away from his brother, taking an unmistakable step back. Wet fabric slides uncomfortably against his dick, but it doesn't matter.

The only thing that matters is that he get out of this room, out of the trousers with all their condemning evidence. He buttons himself up, turns, and flees.

He doesn't notice the way Charlie closes his eyes and sags down as tension runs out of his body, or if he does, he takes care not to store it in the conscious part of his brain.

*~*~*

The summer before the Triwizard Tournament is a special kind of Hell, because in those hot days Bill has to share close quarters with Charlie.

They get by well enough with ignoring each other, and if they can't do that, well, they've become quite good at faking their closeness from years before (the closeness that still exists, the closeness that Bill does his best to deny).

"You're still a bloody coward," Charlie tells him quietly when they get ready to sleep in their shared room in the tent they've taken to the World Cup. Charlie doesn't face him when he says this, has his back turned to Bill, and Bill has to square his shoulders and draw a calming breath before he can cross the threshold to the room.

They don't sleep at all that night, which is decidedly in their favour.

*~*~*

Fleur Delacour is the woman of his dreams. She is adventurous, beautiful, capable, intelligent, and she knows what she wants.

This, as it turns out, is to marry Bill Weasley despite the scars Fenrir Greyback left on his face. Bill doesn't have it in him to deny her. She is, after all, exactly who he is supposed to want.

*~*~*

He fucks her from behind, face-down, stretches her tight pussy with his cock until she screams into the pillows as she rocks back onto him.

He likes her best like this, her long blonde hair parting over her shoulders to pool on the pillow below her. He likes her best like this because he doesn't have to pretend to have his eyes open and see her for who she is instead of what she represents.

He sneaks his arm around her hips, his fingers trailing down to her curls. Fleur moans when he begins to touch her, pushing into her from behind, holding her in place easily with his grip on her waist.

"More," she demands as she arches her back against him.

Bill knows what she wants. He pounds into her, tries to gain the friction he craves as he leans forward – then he latches onto her shoulder. His teeth don't cut her skin but the suggestion is there, and Fleur's muscles tighten around him as she comes.

He follows her over the edge with a low growl, but he feels strangely unsatisfied after.

*~*~*

Charlie corners him a few days before the wedding. He circles Bill, who watches him intently in return; the tension bubbling around them is palpable. Bill wants to slice through it with a knife so he can pretend its curtain separating them from the rest of the world is not there.

"You're still a bloody coward, you know that?" Charlie's voice is quiet, tired, and the look in his eyes makes something deep down in Bill's gut flutter. He doesn't answer - fears the waver he can feel in his voice. He doesn't want to show Charlie how he's getting to Bill, because he isn't, for Merlin's sake he isn't.

"You don't have to pretend, you know. We both know you don't really want her," Charlie says, taking a step closer to Bill and crowding him back against the wall. "You don't want her pussy, do you?" Charlie whispers, a dangerous glint alight in his eyes. "Don't want her high keening sounds when you pound into - "

"Stop," Bill says, his muscles tense like a bowstring. He pushes back against Charlie, freeing himself from the cage of his brother's arms. The anger that rises inside him is no less dangerous than what he sees reflected at him from Charlie's eyes. They keep staring at each other for what seems like an eternity, caught in their web of suspense.

"I'm not a coward," Bill says, quiet and suggestive of unwelcome consequences. "I'm responsible. I do what is right."

Another moment of silence, and then - "Yeah?" Charlie asks, takes a step closer again. "Then why do you want me?" He leans in to lick a stripe across Bill's neck or maybe kiss him, Bill doesn't know. He doesn't care. Fury sits tight in his stomach and drowns every other emotion, and before he knows it he leans away from Charlie.

"No."

Charlie stops dead in his tracks an inch from Bill's skin. His breath is hot against Bill's jaw.

Bill waits, unmoving, not looking and not breathing.

The next moment Charlie is gone, leaving Bill to take gulping breaths as he tries to keep himself under control.

*~*~*

Bill fights in the war - remains responsible, a role model - Charlie stays in Romania.

He only comes back to fight in the Last Battle. Bill's breath hitches in his throat and his heart stutters in protest as he sees his brother shooting curses and hexes left and right.

Afterwards Bill finds him kneeling beside the battered form of Fred, who lies on the stone floor in eternal motionlessness.

His hand lands heavily on his brother's shoulder. Charlie doesn't flinch, just breathes out, and Bill does the same. The weight that's been so heavy on his shoulders for so many years disappears.

"Could've lost you too," Charlie says, a choked whisper barely intelligible in the murmur of the Great Hall.

Bill nods, invisible to Charlie, and squeezes his brother's shoulder.

He doesn't think of Fleur as he leads Charlie away from the prying eyes of the other fighters. He doesn't think at all, just lets his lips and hands and his entire body speak for him when he locks the door of one of the classrooms behind him. He begins to caress Charlie's cheek with one of his trembling hands, knows his eyes say I need you too, maybe more than that as he spreads Charlie out on the closest table, prepares him carefully and then slides home. He holds his brother's eyes, something he hasn't felt he could do for too long. He pushes inside with all his strength, but his fingers take away the sting as they run up and down Charlie's side, circle around his nipples. Bill's lips exchange open kisses with Charlie, and all the while he keeps looking, watching. Bill promises to himself never to forget this moment - or any he knows will come after this. Guilt has evaporated in the face of death.

They breathe shared air. The snap of Bill's hips is strong and steady as he angles carefully to hit the right spot inside. Charlie moans loudly, lets one of his hands trail downward, destination clear, but Bill knocks his hand to the side and wraps a hand around Charlie's cock himself. He isn't rough, just offers steady friction, and Charlie arches his back against him. The slip-slide of sweaty bodies fills the room, and when Charlie comes he takes Bill right with him over the edge.

Bill doesn't feel guilty when he returns to Fleur. He takes her in his arms, closing his eyes as he embraces her tightly.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

*~*~*

In this vein, they continue.