wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2011-03-11 01:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2011, bill, lavender |
Special delivery for lovedlea
Title: Remedy
Author:
Recipient's LJ name: lovedlea
Pairing(s): Bill Weasley/Lavender Brown
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Lavender comes to the meeting again, not quite certain why she does, only that she must. Then again, perhaps there is a reason she keeps returning — him.
Word Count: 2825
Warnings/Content: Nothing really kinky other than wall!sex, I think.
Disclaimer: If these were actually my characters, I'd be a very wealthy person indeed.
Author's notes: This is for lovedlea who gave me many interesting prompts to work with. In the end, I went with scars, high emotions, angst, unplanned sex in a strange/dangerous place and a sudden affair. I hope this is what you were looking for and that you enjoy it!
Thanks to ragdoll for her patience and my fantastic beta!
She comes to the meeting again, not quite certain why she does, only that she must. Every Friday evening at 7 pm, at the North London Wizarding Community Hall. Most of the members of S.I.L.V.E.R: (Survivors Injured by Lycanthropic Violence: Empathy and Relief) are far more affected by their attacks than Lavender was — many of them have been mauled and torn, their faces and bodies disfigured by scars and gouges until they were barely recognizable, but as Lavender knows all too well, not all scars are on the outside.
To the normal eye, Lavender Brown appears unscathed by her encounter with Fenrir Greyback, but it's with her every minute of the day and night, the fear consuming her bit by bit.
The nightmares have plagued her ever since the Battle at Hogwarts, waking up screaming and crying in terror, her body drenched in sweat as she relives the attack every night in her dreams. Hot, fetid breath on her neck, sharp teeth grazing her skin, a heavy weight on her chest, and blood everywhere. And when it's all over, she's as disfigured as the people she sees every week at the S.I.L.V.E.R. meeting, covered in open oozing cuts and angry red scars.
She had not been able to fend Greyback off on her own. If not for Neville and Ron, she would have been dead. Some days, Lavender thinks that might have been a kinder fate. At first, she was certain she was cursed, but intensive evaluations by Healers and experts proved otherwise. Her wounds from the werewolf were superficial, not deep enough to carry the taint of lycanthropy. And yet, she feels cursed all the same.
At first she came to the meetings to share her experiences, and hear others who'd suffered far more than she ever had. Lavender knows how lucky she was, but it doesn't help. The nightmares continue. Parvati thinks she should stop coming, that immersing herself in the horror of other people's traumas is only making her problems worse.
Lavender thinks Parvati should keep her opinions to herself.
She finds a chair and takes a seat, catching sight of the group's leader, and thinks that perhaps there is a reason she keeps returning after all. She comes for him.
Bill Weasley is tall and slim with a long mane of bright ginger hair, brilliant blue eyes and a dazzling smile that even his scars cannot hide. He dresses better than any wizard Lavender has ever met, even if he does have a ridiculous fang earring dangling from his earlobe. She knows Bill had once been an extremely handsome man, and had been married to a beautiful French witch. He'd lost his looks to Greyback during the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died, and rumour had it his wife to another wizard, but he never speaks about either. Laid back and charming, he is an expert flirt with all the witches who attend his meetings, always quick with a joke and a wink for each and every one of them.
All except for Lavender. He doesn't pay attention to her at all.
Lavender is not used to being ignored. At school, she was a popular, pretty girl who boys — and men — always noticed. But not Bill Weasley. She wonders if he thinks she's a fraud, a girl with no visible marks or damage coming in week after week to listen to the misfortune of others for her own selfish reasons. She wonders if his younger brother, Ron, who she dated back at school has told Bill things about her that aren't true. Or at least are not true any longer. She even wonders if he actually fancies girls.
Tonight, Lavender is intent on finding out just what Bill's problem is with her. By any means necessary.
She has taken extra care to look good this evening, spending more time and effort on her hair and makeup than she has since before the encounter with Greyback. Her new robe is clingy, and low cut in the front, revealing ample cleavage, with a slit up the side to show off her long, shapely legs. Lavender is determined to make him notice her tonight.
And yet, he doesn't. He never even looks her way, his eyes fixed on the dumpy, elderly witches who sit in the first row, swooning and tittering at his every word. He coaxes a shy, new member into sharing his story, kindly reassuring the young wizard that his life would get better given time. Bill promises to take him out to his favourite carvery for a meal of rare steak, which leads the older witches to beg for invitations, and soon the entire crowd is involved in the planning.
Bill glances up at the clock, and notes the time. "Next week, you lot," he says with a smile. "We've got to give up the room now."
There is a collective moan of disappointment from the members of S.I.L.V.E.R., but they rise to their feet and begin to collect their things. Lavender is unsure what to do — half of her wants to run out of the hall, never to return, the other half urges her to stay. The braver half wins out — after all, she was a Gryffindor — and she remains while the rest of the group go filtering out through the doors.
Until she and Bill are completely and utterly alone.
"Do you need anything, Miss Brown?" Bill asks her, tucking assorted books and parchment into his rucksack.
"I—," she starts, her mouth dry. She can barely find the words.
Bill continues to pack his things, never looking up. "You?"
"Why won't you look at me?" she blurts, snatching his bag out of his hands.
He raises his head, not quite looking at her so much as looking through her. "Pardon?"
Lavender can see the scars on his face reddening as if from anger. "You're nice to everyone else here — more than nice, so why not me? It's like I've done something awful to offend you, but I don't know what it is," Lavender demands. She knows she sounds like a selfish cow, demanding his attention when he's not interested in giving it. He was there to help people who were badly damaged, who were truly in need — not the likes of her. "Tell me what I've done wrong."
"You haven't done anything wrong," he replies, then adds quickly, "I wasn't aware I was neglecting you. If you've got something you want to share with the group, just speak up. That's what we're here for. Has something happened? Do you need me to put you in touch with a Healer—?"
She cuts him off before he can ask any more foolish questions. "That's not what I meant and you know it!"
"No, actually, I don't," Bill counters, refusing to meet her gaze, staring off at some fixed point on the wall behind her. "Look, Lavender, I'm not sure what you expect from me, but you're not comfortable at the meetings, there's another one that meets on Tuesday afternoons. It's run by Madam Pontipee—"
Her heart sinks at his words, tears welling up in her eyes. He didn't want her here. "I don't want another meeting! I like yours. I just—" She lets out a huff of frustration. "Do you think I'm not good enough to be here? That my problems aren't as important as anyone else's? Why have you got a smile and a kind word for every withered old crone who wanders in here, but not for me?"
Bill's head snaps up and now he is looking at her, his intense gaze making her feel vulnerable and naked. "Because it's easier to flirt with some dotty old dear that I couldn't possibly ever want than it is to deal with you."
Lavender blinks at him in surprise. "What?"
He shuffles in place, looking nervous, but Lavender knows that couldn't possibly be the case because this is Bill Weasley, Cursebreaker, member of the Order of the Phoenix, hero. He couldn't be afraid to talk to her. "All right. It's true. I admit it — I can't bear to look at you." There is a slow intake of breath as Bill pauses, considering his words. "I can't. You're a beautiful woman, an incredibly beautiful woman, and I refuse to torment myself like that."
"Torment yourself?" Lavender echoes in confusion.
"It's no use looking without being able to touch. In the past, before this." Bill points to his face and the line of angry scars that run down his neck, beneath the collar of his shirt. "I could charm the pants off of any women. These days, it doesn't work like that. I'm well aware of what a bloke like me looks like to a girl like you. I've seen the revulsion in their eyes, heard their excuses — and frankly, I don't blame them. I don't flirt with you because I'm not one for rejection. A pretty girl like you deserves an attractive man by her side."
Lavender's heart is pounding in her chest, her stomach doing somersaults in her gut. She'd never expected this kind of self-loathing from him. "And who says you're not attractive?"
Bill snorts, takes his rucksack out of her hands, and slings it over his shoulder. "I have looked in a mirror, you know. Just because I run these damn meetings doesn't mean I'm any better than the rest of 'em." He turns and starts to walk towards the door.
"Well, I think you're gorgeous!" Lavender calls at his retreating back. "I think you're dead sexy. And funny! And clever too!"
Stopping dead in his tracks, Bill turns slowly back to face her. "Don't toy with me," he says. There's a hint of danger in his voice now, sending a frisson of fear and excitement up Lavender's spine.
"I'm only telling you the truth, Bill. Do you think I got all dressed up like this just for a lark?" she says. "I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to see me. I think you're brilliant — you help people every week. You helped me! I find that far more attractive than just a pretty face."
He swallows hard, then says in a harsh whisper. "Have you got any clue what I want to do to you right now?"
"No." Lavender's eyes narrow and her mouth curls up in a coquettishly smile. "Why don't you show me?"
He doesn't hesitate for even a second. Bill's bag slips to the floor with a small thud as he closes the distance between them in just a few quick strides. Before Lavender has time to think, his arms are around her, his mouth hard on hers, his body tight against her own. She winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back, sucking on his tongue as it darts between her parted lips.
He manoeuvres them back towards the wall, the stone cold and rough on Lavender's back as she's trapped against it. She can feel the curve of his erection through his trousers, pressing against her thigh as he moves in even closer. Instinctively, her hands go to Bill's arse, grabbing him firmly. He moans against her lips, his hips rocking in response.
"Want you." His words come out in a harsh whisper as he works his hands underneath her robe. Lavender doesn't object when he begins to tug at her knickers — she's too busy pulling the tails of his shirt out of his trousers and yanking off his shirt.
Clothes go flying as they're removed in haste. Lavender marvels at the feel of Bill's warm skin beneath her fingertips as she skims her hands up his spine, even the ragged ridges of the scars scoring his back. Bill growls in her ear, his breath warm and moist as he nips and licks down her neck and over her throat. She moans when he cups her bare breasts in his hands, squeezing gently, coaxing her nipples to hard peaks with the pad of his thumb.
Bill lets out a throaty chuckle as one hand delves between her legs, eliciting another moan from her. "Mmmm, you're so wet," he rasps.
Lavender shoves his trousers down to his knees, grabbing at his cock. It's long and thick and heavy, the foreskin already back, the head slick with pre-come. Bill makes the most incredible sounds as she strokes him to further hardness, pumping slowly into the palm of her hand.
His fingers dig into her hips as he pulls her to him, then up, supporting her arse with his strong arms. Her back firmly against the wall, Lavender has no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist. She gasps as Bill slides her down, sheathing himself inside her. He pushes forward, shifting slightly to pin her between him and the hard stone, impaled upon his cock.
He begins to move, and there is nothing gentle about his assault. He drives himself into her with increasing urgency, making Lavender cry out with each frantic thrust. She clutches him, trying to match his pace, grinding against him and tightening her hold around his neck — his hair has escaped its usual neat ponytail to fall around his face in wild strands. She tangles her fingers in it, savouring the soft and silky feel of it as she pulls at it. Bill groans and thrusts harder still.
A few quick strokes and Lavender comes, loud and hard, her entire body consumed by her climax. As she thrashes in Bill's grip, she feels him tense, his breathing growing more erratic. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, and with a final thrust, he's coming too. Bill claims her mouth with his, kissing her over and over again as he shudders in her embrace, then finally stills.
They cling to one another, panting and gasping until finally, Bill relaxes his hold and carefully lowers her to her feet. He kisses her again, moulding his body against hers, brushing her hair off her face with a light touch. Lavender smiles at his tender gesture, gently stroking his back.
It suddenly occurs to her that they are in an empty room in a public hall and that anyone could have walked in on them at any time. Bill seems to come to the same conclusion, chuckling as he fishes his wand out of his rumpled trousers and, with a hasty flick of his wand, closes and locks the partially open door.
"Might be too late for that," he murmurs, then gives a diffident shrug. "I hope that if anyone did see, that we gave them an entertaining show. I've got a reputation to uphold after all."
Lavender feels her cheeks heating up. "I have to say that I'm not much of an exhibitionist."
"Ah." Bill dips his head down and kisses the tip of her nose. "I'm not either, but I wouldn't want anyone to think I was lacking in that department." He cups her chin in his palm, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.
The corner of her mouth curls up into a smirk. "I certainly didn't think you were, Bill."
"Glad to hear it. I'm usually far more attentive to my partner than I was just now." He steps back, reaching down to pull up his trousers, and begins to retrieve her clothes from the floor. Gazing up at her, he says with a grin, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to prove that to you later."
"Later?"
"Well, I was thinking of dinner and drinks, and then back to my place where we might get to know each other a bit better under more comfortable —and private — circumstances." Bill rises to his full height, his shirt and her robes in hand. "Assuming you'd want to, that is."
"Oh, I do," Lavender replies softly, taking the offered clothing from his hand, and starts to dress. "I was hoping for more than a one-off, if you must know."
"Clever girl, always planning ahead."
"You make me sound like a scheming Slytherin!" Lavender exclaims. "It wasn't planned as much as wished for, really."
Bill shrugs into his shirt and nods. "Well, I reckon I can make those wishes come true." He winks at her, then rakes his hands through his hair, before tying it back off his face.
Lavender can't help but note the long, red gouges that snake across his torso, marring Bill's pale, freckled skin. They aren't scars, she thinks, they're badges of honour. She reaches out to touch them, skimming her palm over the broad expanse of his chest while she pulls him into another kiss. A good meal, some wine and a night with a man she suspects will be a very attentive lover. She doesn't know if that will be enough to keep her nightmares at bay, but the evening ahead will definitely provide them both with some much needed therapy.