Title: A Thing About Full Moon Nights
Author: mindabbles
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Bill, mentions of Ginny/Fleur
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: cock rings, vasectomy (sort of)
Other Warnings: very mild full moon wolfishness
Word Count: 4,400
Summary/Description: Bill should probably feel a bit awkward at the wedding of his ex-wife and his sister, but when his sister's ex-husband looks like that in the moonlight, he has other concerns.
Author's Notes: Thank you and hugs to gryffindorj for her incredible help with this, and to elizassecret for suggesting the pairing.




From this angle, looking in the mirror, Bill can hardly see the scars. He straightens the front of his charcoal grey robes and runs his hands over his hair, catching stray bits and refastening the black leather tie at the nape of his neck.

"Who ever said you couldn't smarten up, never saw you just now," Harry says, appearing out of nowhere in the mirror over Bill's left shoulder.

He's one to talk, in midnight blue robes of the finest wool, a white silk scarf hanging loose around his neck. The scarf frames perfectly the hollow at the base of Harry's throat. He must have just arrived. Bill would have noticed the smooth baritone voice if he'd been here when Bill Floo'd in earlier.

"Not every day my ex-wife marries my sister," Bill says as he turns to face Harry.

"It's really over, then," Harry says. "You and Fleur. Ginny and me. There's no going back."

Harry's tone is neutral, the lack of regret incongruent with the words. He looks in the mirror again, away from Bill's eyes.

"I reckon it was over a long time ago, Harry," Bill says gently.

Harry rubs his middle finger over his lightening scar. "Right. Yes, it was." He looks at Bill as if he's trying to make a decision, and then says, with a sigh, "I suppose we should make an appearance."

The tinge of disappointment in Harry's voice makes Bill think that he's altogether missed Harry's point.

*****

Harry, Ron, and Hermione lean their heads together to hear each other over the bursts of conversation around them. All these years and the three of them still look most relaxed, most happy, when it's just them. Bill has never had a friend like that. Charlie perhaps, but he is so rarely in England.

The children play in the garden behind the dining tables, long since excused so the adults can talk and sip sweet liqueurs that Mme Delacour distils from flowers in her lush garden. Bill tips the delicate glass to his lips and lavender and vanilla spread over his tongue, almost too sweet, but with a potent burn at the finish.

Bill wishes the whole event over. This seems enough. Fleur and Ginny exchanged vows – even if it was for practise. There's been a dinner. There's been cake and drink. And it is only immediate family and friends. Tomorrow there will be too many friends, colleagues, and team-mates to count and they will all look at him, and at Harry, and wonder what they did to ruin their marriages and push their wives together, because people are idiots and they always wonder such things. They will wonder, but because Harry is Harry and Bill has a reputation, they will be afraid to actually ask either of them, which means they will speculate and whisper. And on the day of the full moon, Bill will find that very annoying.

Hermione and Ron sit on either side of Harry, talking around him. Harry's no longer listening, he's watching Bill. Harry takes a sip of his drink, Firewhisky by the looks of it. His tongue darts out to catch a drop at the corner of his mouth. Bill smiles and catches Harry's eye, lifting his glass and mouthing, "Cheers."

Without saying a word to Ron or Hermione, Harry comes to stand next to Bill.

"I can honestly say I never expected to be a guest at this event," Harry says. He rubs his hand over his head, rumpling his hair. His hair is just as it was when he was sixteen – shining black and thick, sticking up in ways that make him look endearingly, and deceptively, in need of assistance. No wonder Bill's mother gathered the boy up in her skirts and took him home.

"I don't know," Bill says with a shrug. Harry's dark blue robes somehow make his eyes look a brighter green. Ginny's laughter, as she leans her head on Fleur's shoulder where they sit together at the end of the garden, is abruptly audible over everything else. "She's always fancied long, ginger hair, Fleur has." He smiles kindly and takes the excuse to rake his eyes over Harry. Just thirty, Harry has shed some of the gangliness of his youth. He's still tall and thin, but there's an appealing solidness to him, with his broad hands and well-defined, slightly shadowed jaw.

Harry laughs, the smile making his eyes sparkle and he glances at Ginny. "They're happy now. That's the thing."

"Harry, we've known each other for more than fifteen years. Surely we have more in common than the social awkwardness of this dinner."

Bill suddenly wants to reach out and feel the scratch of the stubble on Harry's jaw against his fingers, on his tongue. But that might just be the proximity of the full moon.

"Sorry, I –" Harry pauses and smiles and Bill is left again with the impression that they were having different conversations.

*****

That first day that he met Harry years ago, Bill had seen the shadow of the man he'd become. He'd looked flushed and nervous when he shook Bill's hand and Bill had to remind himself later that night when they'd collided in the corridor that this boy was Ron's age.

There had been something in the flash of those bright eyes in the dark that had sent him back to his childhood room with a half-hard cock and the makings of a lovely, and recurring, fantasy – Harry pushed up against the wall in the dark corridor, long lashes making smoky half-moons under his eyes.

That spark had grown into respect and friendship, and then the awkward intimacy of two men who's wives had left them for each other.

Bill tips back his head and squints to watch the stars dance, disappearing and reappearing among the leaves that shade the garden.

"The more of these you have, the less odd this is." Harry slips into the chair next to Bill, holding a glass of Mme Delacour's liqueur in front of him. Mum and Dad, with Ron and Hermione's help, are gathering children together, pulling on jumpers and informing the little ones that they must be chilly in the evening air. Bill's skin feels warm and Harry smiles, a faint flush to his cheeks.

"What's odd, mate?" Bill asks. He leans to knock his shoulder against Harry's. "The bloody flowery drink? That everyone studiously avoids mentioning what's happening tomorrow to either of us? Or that we keep ending up in the same place?"

"Not the last bit."

"I'm going in to have a Firewhisky by the fire," Bills says. He stands and Harry looks perplexed, and maybe a little disappointed. "Join me? Same place and all that."

Bill crosses the garden, not looking back, and he hears the soft scrape of Harry's chair on the ground as he gets up to follow Bill.

Bill is holding out a glass of Firewhisky for Harry by the time he walks into the sitting room. Harry takes the glass he's offered and sits near the fire, leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees.

"So," Harry says slowly. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"You all right?" Bill sits next to Harry on the sofa. "You seem a bit tense."

"What?" Harry asks. He takes a sip of his whisky and immediately takes another. "No. Fine."

"So drink."

Bill leans back and stares into the fire and tries to work out how to close the gap, three breadths of his hand, between him and Harry.

*****

The photo of Bill and Fleur's wedding is still on the mantelpiece. As is the one of Harry's and Ginny's. Bill supposes there is no reason for his mum and dad to take them down, as if they never happened, as if their children grew in the garden. Bill points his wand at the hearth and the fire flares merrily in the grate.

"The family photos will look like one of Aunt Petunia's stories," Harry says. He's moved across the room while Bill was lost in thought. His broad hand traces the bevelled edge of the mantel and lingers under the photo of Bill and Fleur.

"What?"

"You and Fleur." Harry points at the gilded frame. His hand knocks a little clumsily against the photo and Bill wonders how much of that lavender liqueur he was able to stomach. "Me and Ginny and then Fleur and Ginny. All's missing is my – me – with Angelina or something."

"Should be you and me." Bill moves closer, to feel the warmth of the fire.

Harry turns. His mouth is open as if he was caught out in the middle of a word.

Bill bites his lip to stop himself from explaining that he meant you and me in the whole irony of the mantelpiece scheme of things. Harry does the same, a catch of teeth on his bottom lip, like he's trying to feel what Bill feels. Harry slowly releases the lip, red and shiny and full, and he's watching Bill watch him, a slightly pissed tilt to his head. Bill tilts his head, too, and leans in until he can feel Harry's breath on his lips, telling himself that it doesn't matter if it's the waxing moon pulling at him.

"Here you two are." Bill's dad is in the doorway. He looks tired, but happy and his gaze drifts longingly to the open bottle of Firewhisky. "I'd say I'll join you, but we've an early morning."

"I – yeah, see you all tomorrow," Harry says. He scrubs his hand madly through his hair and fairly dashes out the front door.

"Right, yeah," Bill says. He sinks back onto the sofa and refills his tumbler with whisky.

*****

"Morning." Bill says it quietly, over Harry's shoulder, leaning so his chest nearly touches Harry's back. Harry is combing uselessly through his hair, at the mirror in the hallway under the stairs, exactly where he caught Bill yesterday.

Harry starts and looks at Bill's reflection in the mirror. "I'm early."

"I'd noticed." Bill smiles and Harry stares back. "See you in a bit," Bill says, leaning in so that his lips brush the ends of Harry's hair. "You look good, by the way."

He turns to walks outside and Harry's gaze makes the hair on the back of Bill's neck stand on end. He'd tell himself it's just the moon, but last night, Harry didn't pull away.

*****

With the exception that the Vicar seemed to be inebriated and got Fleur's name wrong three times, the ceremony was lovely. When Fleur and Ginny took the floor to dance, everyone seemed to hold their breath at the beauty. Fleur came to Bill for the second dance, and Ginny to Harry. Bill took Fleur in his arms and remembered all the reasons he loved her. When the music ended, Ginny and Fleur wrapped themselves in each other again. Harry and Bill were left standing on the dance floor, staring at each other, until George swooped in and grabbed Harry in a parody of a dance. Bill squashed the irrational urge to hex him.

That was many drinks ago, Percy and George and most of the guests have left, and Fleur and Ginny are preparing to take their Port Key to Nice.

Bill drums his fingers on the table. The rising moon is so bright that the faerie lights will be unnecessary in a bit. For all he's been told the he didn't get enough of the curse in his body for it to have much of an effect, it's bollocks. He can feel the moonlight warming his blood. He's sure that Fleur stopped tracking the phases of the moon even before they decided to call it a day, but part of him wonders if this isn't just a little bit of a jab at him.

"You should not drink so much tonight, mon chéri." Fleur's throaty voice accompanies her steady hand on his shoulder.

"Where did you come from?"

"I've come to let you tell me bon voyage," She says. Her smile is as bright as the moon, and a little sad. "I sometimes wish...well."

Bill looks up at the sky and her gaze follows his.

"Tonight isn't a night for you to have regrets," he says.

"It is not truly regrets," she says. "And tonight is a night you might sometimes take chances. I think there is one you would do well to take." She bends to kiss each of his cheeks in turn and he catches the scent of lavender on her silvery hair.

*****

Harry is standing at the bottom of the back steps, leaning on the rickety railing. His arm is squashing the leafy green garland that was wrapped about it to improve the look of the back garden. Bill smiles. He can still scarcely believe that Fleur consented to a second wedding here. At least this time, she's getting a holiday in France.

Harry's face brightens and Bill realises it must have looked as if he were smiling at him. Fair enough. He should have been, so he nods at the empty chair next to him. Harry squares his shoulders and strides across the garden.

"I guess you could say I've always fancied long, ginger hair as well," Harry says. He lifts his glass and it tips, nearly spilling on the rented tablecloth. It takes Bill a moment to place the reference. Harry must have been repeating that line in his head since yesterday.

"Have you?"

"I thought it would be obvious by now," Harry says. He smiles self-consciously and sits in the offered seat, pulling it close to Bill's.

Bill rolled up his sleeves early in the dancing – as the moon rose and so did his temperature. The moon continues in its arc, now beyond the top of the house. Direct light hits Bill's skin, making his muscles twitch and skin prickle. He needs to eat something. Someone.

Harry notices.

"All right?" Harry asks. He lifts his hand, fingers extended as if to smooth along Bill's arm where the fine ginger hair is standing on end, and then drops it under the table into his lap. "What's with the timing of this? I hadn't thought."

"It may be that Fleur has a bit of a thing about full-moon nights," Bill says. He looks at the pale column of Harry's throat and realizes that it's not someone he needs. It's Harry.

*****

Bill splays his fingers over the broad expanse of Harry's chest. Harry's skin is luminescent in the moonlight and he tips his head back, baring his throat to Bill's teeth as Bill licks a stripe from his collarbone to his jaw.

Harry gasps when Bill pulls the tender flesh between his teeth. Harry reaches behind to steady himself on the ancient, gnarled tree where they landed after innuendo became touches under the table and Bill finally grabbed Harry by the wrist and steered him here. Bill wants to devour him and he pushes him back against the tree, presses his thigh between Harry's legs.

Bill spreads Harry's open robes, pushing them down his shoulders, catching his arms at his sides. Harry moans and rolls his shoulders, flexing his fists. Bill goes for the buttons on Harry's trousers, old fashioned, fiddly things that slip under his fingers and distract him from thoughts of Harry in more elaborate bonds.

"I've had a charm done," Harry says and Bill coughs, trying to imagine what he's on about. "Things were getting odd and Ginny, well, I think she suspected I was cheating on her and she asked me to."

"You did what?" Bill asks. He soothes his tongue over the shallow teeth marks in Harry's throat.

"I went to St. Mungo's and they, you know, snipped me," Harry says.

Harry's cheeks blossom pink and Bill shakes his head to clear some of the whisky and try to hear what Harry actually said.

"Ginny wanted you to do that because she thought you were cheating on her?" Discussing Harry cheating on his sister is not what he wants to do with his cock hard and Harry standing there half naked, with his arms pinned and the moonlight casting shadows in the hollow of his throat.

"Well, that's not what she said, of course, but. Yes. I think so."

"And you decided to tell me this now because?" Bill steps back, registering with regret the loss of warmth from Harry's body. "I'm not exactly hoping to get up the duff, so I am not sure what your vasectomy charm has to do with us."

"I haven't tried it out," Harry says. He rubs his finger over the scar on his forehead and Bills realizes this is what he does when he's nervous. Bill wants him on-edge, not nervous. "Since. I haven't much. Since."

"You haven't had sex since before you and Ginny split?"

"Not as such, no. Not much opportunity. Or too many that I don't want. Not quite sure how it'll work."

"You're not sure how it will work?"

"Are you going to carry on repeating everything I say?"

The kids, Ron and Hermione, Mum and Dad, are all just down the hill. Mum and Dad are no doubt tucking the little ones in their sleeping bags before the fire and telling stories, maybe giving Ron and Hermione a bit of a night off. It won't be long until he and Harry are missed and the moon is nearing its zenith, pushing and pulling at his blood like the tide. He's finished wasting time.

So, I'll fuck you," Bill whispers. He leans in, planting one hand on the tree beside Harry's head. His breath ruffles the hair by Harry's ear. "Then you needn't worry, eh?"

His hands fall to Harry's waist, thumb brushing over a sharp hip bone. He's still so thin. He slides a leg between Harry's again and watches, nerves buzzing, as Harry's eyes flutter shut, yielding. The buttons on Harry's trousers give way easily to his fingers now and he wonders if the soft murmur he heard was Harry casting a spell. His hand slides over the soft skin of Harry's belly and under his pants. They seem to melt away, slipping down Harry's thighs until he is exposed to the cool night air. Bill drops to his knees and Harry shivers.

"I want to taste you," Bill breathes over the end of Harry's cock. Harry rolls his hips, thrusting forward in invitation, in entreaty.

Bill breathes deeply and the pounding in his ears quiets, the moon temporarily appeased, as he licks around Harry's cock and slides his lips over the tip. Harry groans and throws off the robes binding his arms. He threads his fingers through Bill's hair, pulling enough to loosen it from its tie. Harry pulls again and Bill's head is forced to tip up, to look at Harry and Harry hisses as Bill's teeth scrape against his cock.

"Why," Harry gasps. "Why do I get the feeling I'm being sacrificed to the moon?"

Bill sits back on his haunches, letting Harry's cock slip slowly from between his lips. He only knows he's closed his eyes when the moon suddenly goes dark. He's dizzy with the memory of that night so long ago when he said almost those identical words to Remus.

"Hey." Gentle fingers tilt his chin and Harry's eyes are bright and concerned. "I want it."

Harry's skin has cooled in the night air, but Bill can feel the heat just below the surface. He rubs his hands over Harry's thighs and hips and arse to feel him tremble. Bill needs this. Harry wants it.

He grasps his wand loosely between his fingertips and touches the end to the base of Harry's cock, muttering an incantation under his breath. The spell tingles on his fingers and he drops the wand so he can wrap his hand around Harry's cock and slide slowly to the base.

"Fuck," Harry gasps. "What are – what are you doing?"

"Hush," Bill whispers. It would be more fun if Harry weren't already hard, to watch his cock fill and move as the binding embraces it. "You're worried about your performance? This will help."

Harry gives him a look like maybe they were once again having different conversations. Bill doesn't have time for chatter, not with the sight in front of him. He kisses the tip of Harry's cock, tonguing the slit, and pulls it into his mouth.

"Oh fuck," Harry moans and he rocks his hips, pushing deeper into Bill's mouth. Bill grasps Harry's arse with both hands, steering him and taking him as far as he can. "Mmmm, thought you were going to fuck me."

Bill gives Harry's cock one more long, hard suck, and lets him slip from his mouth.

"In good time," Bill says, his voice a near growl. He strokes Harry's slippery cock and fingers the magical ring at the base. Barely visible, the spell shimmers in the bright moonlight.

"Now's a good time," Harry says, turning his back to Bill and bracing himself against the tree, and Bill has a feeling that his earlier coyness was something of an act.

Bill is on his feet, stripped of his clothes before he can take two breaths. He mutters a spell into his palm and brings his now slippery hand to Harry's arse.

"Tell me what you like," Bill says. He sinks his teeth into the back of Harry's shoulder.

"I like you," Harry says. "Fuck me."

Bill takes a steadying breath. He wants to drop back to his knees and lose himself in the taste of Harry's skin, open him with his tongue, but Harry throws a pleading look over his shoulder. He slides one finger into Harry, murmuring that he feels so good, that he can't wait to be inside him, and relishing the way the words seem to shiver over Harry's skin. He adds a second finger and Harry moans his name and reaches back to bat away his hand, growling, "enough."

Bill nudges against Harry's entrance and nearly comes as the head of his cock is engulfed by Harry's tight heat.

"Okay," Bill says. "God, okay."

He slides in as slowly as he can bear it and Harry makes the most delicious sounds as he plants his feet further apart and opens to take Bill in. Bills presses flush against Harry and stills. He'll barely need to move and he'll come. He wants to be inside Harry all night.

"Come on," Harry grinds out through clenched teeth.

Harry rolls his hips and starts to move, starts to fuck himself on Bill's cock and that's it. Bill can't wait, can't prolong this no matter how he wants it to last. He pulls back and feels every inch slide out of Harry's body until he is only just still inside him. Harry presses back and Bill meets him. Harry is using the tree, his palms flat against it, to push Bill deeper, fuck him harder. Bill grabs Harry's hips and moves with him. He can't tell who's setting the pace, who's moving whom. Spikes of pleasure, white-hot and intense take his breath away and he comes inside Harry, bathing his cock in wet warmth as he presses as far into Harry as he can and holds on tight.

"Please, fuck, please," Harry begs. He writhes against Bill and scrabbles for Bill's hand.

"Finite," Bills whispers, his lips pressing to the shell of Harry's ear.

Harry groans, guttural and low. Bill grips Harry's hips with one hand, fingers digging in to firm flesh. He lets Harry bring his other hand to encircle Harry cock. Harry's knees buckle and Bill wraps his arm around his chest, holding him against his chest, and they both slide to the ground at the foot of the old tree.

*****

A cool breeze washes across Bill's face. His back is warm on a soft, thick blanket he doesn't remember conjuring. The haze of the Firewhisky lingers and he doesn't remember any reason he shouldn't gather Harry close, pull the warm, pliant body to his own, and drift back to sleep.

*****

The moon is dipping below the trees when Bill next wakes. The prickle of Harry gazing at him must be what woke him. Harry leans to kiss him.

"You know, you never told me why," Bill says when Harry pulls back from the kiss, counting months in his head. "Why you did it if you and Ginny had already decided to split."

"We, er, hadn't. The first time," Harry says. He trails his fingers up Bill's chest, mapping the slope and curve of his muscles, eliciting a shiver when his thumb brushes Bill's nipple.

"You had it done twice?"

"The first time, just after Albus was born."

"Lily's not—" Bill gasped.

"No, no," Harry says. He shakes his head and his spiky hair tickles Bill's cheek. "She's mine. One night we got pissed and started talking about the past, and there's Lily."

"It didn't take, then."

"Seems not. I'd never had the charm checked. Felt a bit off, wanking into a cup, so I never did. Ginny nearly did me in when she found out that was why she was pregnant. St Mungo's didn't want to do it the first time. The Healers were having fits the second."

"They didn't want to compromise the chosen sperm, no doubt."

Harry laughs. "I think they thought I was too young. Or something."

"So, you've had sex after a vasectomy charm, just not the most recent one. What was all that talk about performance anxiety?"

"Well, I ended up going to a Muggle instead…and it's a little bit more invasive—"

Bill covers his own balls, thinking about the horror stories he's heard about muggle medicine; stitches and casts and carved like a goose.

"—and it was taking a while for you to get round to it."

"Harry?"

"Well, it seemed to work out all right for both of us." Harry props himself up on his elbow and looks down. He licks his lip nervously and Bill wants to trace the path Harry's tongue has taken with his own. "Are you angry?"

Bill lifts his head from the blanket and reaches for his wand. "Very," he says. "Very, very, very." Bill draws a circle around the base of Harry's cock with his wand. Harry begins to harden immediately. "Angry."

The moonlight streams in, bathing Harry in a silvery glow. Bill leans to kiss his chest, laving his tongue over a still sensitive nipple.

"Maybe I'll have a thing about full moon nights as well," Harry says, breathless. Bill smiles against his skin.