Who: Bill Weasley and Valentina Proudfoot Where: Shell Cottage When: Saturday, September 23rd What: Making mistakes Rating: NSFW
This was a bad idea.
Bill knew that as surely as he knew anything. But in the wake of Fleur and half a bottle of firewhisky, his senses were rapidly dulling. He liked it, he decided. The slight blur of his vision, the blunting of scent--it felt merciful, given that he'd spent the past few hours trying to scrub the memory of his wife--no, ex-wife--from his mind. But she still lingered.
"Dammit," he said, throwing the bottle at the wall. It smashed, as the one before it had, with a great tinkling of glass and scattered crystal fragments across the wooden floor. Bill wanted to follow that bottle, kicking and punching until he knocked the whole house down, taking every memory he had of her in this place with it. Then he looked at his journal, his thumb touching the delicate feminine handwriting as he stood. No. This was better. Hurt more.
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Apparating to a set of coordinates was a rather risky thing, but Valentina didn't much care. She'd felt attracted to Bill from the moment he'd walked into the shop earlier this month, and just for tonight she was more than willing to pretend the politic conflict didn't exist. And she had no intention of using anything from tonight against him. after Telling him she'd be there soon, she considered changing, but if he was already drinking enough to actually invite her over, he probably wasn't going to care what she was wearing.
It was only a few minutes before she appeared at the coordinates he'd given her, wand in hand and a small bag with a few potions and her journal in it over her shoulder. She didn't plan to write anyone while here, but she didn't want to leave it behind just in case. She'd been careful not to tell Tavia who she was meeting or that he was a rebel, but one couldn't be too careful, she thought.
"Hello, Bill," she greeted up, noticing right away the way he was looking at his own journal.
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"Didn't think you'd come." He swayed unsteadily to his feet. Bill hadn't planned for company--not really--and he looked it, with his hair wild and his chest bare. "Didn't bring the Ministry, did you? I'm the Secret Keeper for this place but fuck if I care about those secrets right now."
Bill reached out, wrapping his hand around her waist and pulling her into him. Resting his forehead on hers, he murmured, "We never finished that puzzle."
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Val's brows raised at that greeting. Of course she'd come--why wouldn't she? "No, no Ministry. Tonight, there is no Ministry, no political conflict, none of that." She was almost surprised that he'd brought it up, showing that he wasn't drunk enough to have forgotten entirely. But it hadn't stopped him inviting her, so she wasn't bothered. "And we can figure out more there in the morning." When he was hungover instead of drunk.
When he pulled her to him, she went into the embrace willingly, her hands resting on that bare chest first, a soft hum of appreciation sounding on her lips, before her hands trailed up to rest against the back of his neck. "Oh, I finished it ages ago. Just not in the journal," she admitted, lips twitching in amusement. She tipped her head up a little more so she could brush her lips against his, testing the waters almost. She'd only ever been with one person, and who knew how this would differ.
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A slight growl erupted in the back of his throat as she came closer and he forgot all about drinking as her lips rested on his.
"Shouldn't do this," he said but his hand slipped down, resting on the small on her back as his fingers played with the hem of her shirt. He wondered what the rest of her skin would feel like, if the rest of her would taste like the hint of her lips that she'd just given.
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That growl seemed to reverberate through her, and she felt her body warming with the rawness of it. She wanted to hear what other sounds he might make when he wasn't checking himself.
"Mmm no, don't do that," she urged, her back arching as his hand settled at the small of her back, her head shaking slightly, making her nose nudge his. "You knew why you invited me over, and I knew why I was coming here," she pointed out, her voice dropping to barely more than a whisper, as if the moment refused to allow anything more than that yet. She kissed him again, firmer this time, encouraging him to let go and do what they both clearly wanted to do, even if for different reasons.
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"It isn't gonna mean anything," he warned her even though he wasn't so sure of that. His mouth found hers again, resting on the fullness of her lips as he kissed her hard. He wanted to own her, he wanted to feel her pinned underneath him that very moment and it took every bit of strength he had not to give in as he wrapped his other arm around her, moving his mouth down her throat and to her shoulder. He ignored the flannel against his nose and concentrated instead on the warmth of her as his hands slipped inside her shirt, still resting on her back.
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She didn't respond right away, focused instead on the way his lips felt against her own, the hard kiss soothing something in her. She'd been so crushed when Ari had broken her heart and hadn't been sure she would want someone else, but then she'd met Bill, and she did want very much. Physically. But when his lips moved from her mouth down her neck, she finally did reply. "Doesn't have to," she murmured back. Her hands slid back down his chest then, her fingers hooking into the front of his jeans, though she didn't do anything with them just yet.
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"Fleur..." he mumbled. "You don't look anything like her." His hands fumbled then, catching as he tried to slide them around the top of her jeans. He buried his head in her neck, memories of Fleur coming to him despite the fact that he didn't want her. They had been good in bed--when there was nothing else, there had still been that. As he opened his eyes and looked at Valentina, he tried to see her face rather than the ghost that haunted him.
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"I hope that's a good thing," she muttered dryly. No woman wanted the man they were about to sleep with talking about his ex-wife, but she'd known Fleur was messing with his head before she'd offered herself as company for the night. She was starting to get the impression that if she wanted anything to really happen here, she was going to have to take charge. She nudged him back to the couch, silently urging him to sit, intending to straddle him.
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"Yeah," he said, his mouth suddenly dry as he sat down. His palms curled and uncurled as he looked up at her. He remembered the last time he'd been with a woman who wasn't Fleur. There had been no kissing, no touching...nothing but the act itself. It was a lie he told himself then--if he didn't make love, if it was nothing but sex...it didn't count.
For some reason, it made him queasy to think about.
He reached up and he touched her face, cupping her cheek in his hand and looking into her eyes. "I... wanted..." He felt too woozy to finish the words, even though he knew that it was cruel to let her think that she was something less than Fleur.
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When he sat, she wasted no time in slipping onto his lap, legs straddling him. She knew Fleur was part-Veela, everyone knew, and so she didn't have any illusions that she could even begin to compare to how gorgeous the other woman was, but she was content enough that he found her attractive enough to invite her over.
Her fingers hand started trailing down her front, undoing the buttons of her shirt when his hand cupped her cheek. Her eyes focused on his, brows furrowing as she wondered what it was he wanted. But he wasn't finishing his sentence, and she didn't want to press him on it. "I'm not expecting anything slow and sweet and calm right now," she assured him. "Not with how mucked up your head is. Just... let go, okay?" That was what she wanted, for him to let go and let their bodies speak. She didn't need promises or reassurances.
Her fingers quickly finished the line of buttons on her shirt, and she shrugged it unceremoniously off her shoulders.
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It seemed that she was getting what she wanted as he finally seemed to fully focus on her. He didn't try to speak again, at least not yet, and he was touching her, which is what she'd wanted most. She tugged her shirt the rest of the way off, letting it fall near his feet. And then he kissed her again, and she pushed one hand into his hair as she kissed him back, her hips pressing down more firmly against him.
Her other hand gripped his upper arm, holding onto him as if that was the only thing keeping her steady. Her chest rose and fell in quick succession as her body responded to all the sensations--his kiss, his touch, the length of his erection straining against his pants against her center.
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"Sweet Circe," he breathed. It hadn't been long but it had been long enough. He grabbed her hand and shoved it down hard on his cock. The feeling of her light hand against his straining erection was almost enough to make him burst. "Don't make me wait."
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At his impatience, Val chuckled softly, her hand squeezing firmly against his erection as her other slipped from his hair to grab her wand from where it had dropped on the couch. There was no reason to drag it out, to have a slow removal of clothes and exploration of each other's bodies. With any luck, they could do that later, after this immediate need was sated. And if not, then she'd still at least have a passionate, fiercely physical encounter to remember him by.
With a wave of her wand, the rest of their clothes were off and in a crumpled pile on the floor near them, leaving them both nude. She set her wand back down, assuming he wouldn't mind her presumption, and then wrapped a hand around him and stroking him firmly a few times. She wasn't going to make him wait, but she wanted to touch him first.
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"Enough," he growled again, taking her hand off him. The need inside him was building and he could feel his whole body stiffen with it. "Now."
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If she hadn't already been aroused, that growl, the demand in his voice would have done the trick, she thought. She brought her hand up to lick her fingers before rubbing them over the head of his cock. And then quickly, she guided him into her, seating herself fully on him with a soft gasp, her head falling back, her hair cascading behind her. She gave herself only a moment to adjust to being filled with him before her hands went to his shoulders to steady herself as she rocked over him quickly.
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He felt her body rock against him and he lost all control. Unable to think about what he was doing, his nails dug into her shoulders as he pressed his mouth against her neck, half-kissing, half-biting. He wanted to possess her, to mark her for his own as primal instincts took hold and he let the wolf inside of him free.
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Something changed, shifted she thought, going to something more primal, but his mouth felt good on her neck and she didn't want him to stop. She was letting herself fall into the moment, to lose herself in sensation, to shut her mind off from evaluating and picking apart every detail of this encounter. Because when she went home in the morning, she didn't want to be thinking about motivations or expectations but instead of how wildly good it had felt to be with someone again.
"Oh Merlin," she breathed, her hand pushing into his hair again, curling the strands around her fingers tightly as she held him against her.
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His hand clenched her hair, wrapping it around his fist as he yanked her back a little so that he could look into her eyes, know who it was that he was fucking. He needed to see her face as he plunged into her, wanted to watch her as their bodies moved together.
He thrust harder, his hips rocking upward as he took control from her, pushing deep. He moaned as his grip on her hair grew slack, then shifted to her shoulders so that he could better drive her down on him. A noise came from his mouth, a breath shy of becoming a name.
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It was a level of roughness she was definitely not accustomed to, but she was surprised that it didn't bother her. She let him pull her head back to look at him, her eyes staring into his, the intensity in his gaze making her flush. And when he took over, thrusting upward into her, her eyes widened in surprise at the tightness in her belly.
"Oh! Oh, fuck, so close," she murmured, her voice stuttered and raspy in the moment.
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"I want you, Valentina," he choked, trying to hold back. His hips thrust once more and he couldn't stop himself. He buckled underneath her, crying out as his eyes closed and release came. It tore through him like fire, so intense that he almost begged to stop and yet, he could not stop moaning until the rush left him and he lay there, empty, his hand coming to rest on the top of her hip.
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It was her name on his lips, and that was a heady thing indeed. But then he was coming undone beneath her, and she very nearly cried out in frustration. She let her head fall forward against his shoulder, not wanting him to see the frustration in her expression even if he was so caught up in his own release that he might not notice. When he seemed to relax a bit and rest his hand against her hip, she turned her head slightly to press a kiss against his scruffy neck. As disappointing as it had been in some ways, she refused to regret coming here.
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It was a moment before he could speak. His head was still dizzy as he lifted it up to look at her. "I'm... shite. I'm sorry."
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Val snorted a soft laugh at his apology, shaking her head. "You're drunk," she retorted, hoping that was the only reason that frenzied encounter had ended prematurely. Her hands stroked lightly through his hair, pushing it back away from his face and then holding his head in place as she ducked her own down to kiss him lightly, slowly.
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"I am," he agreed. "Probably should tell you to go."
He didn't want her to and the look on his face betrayed that. He rested his head against her cheek for a moment, just longing to be held. This wasn't love and he knew it, but at least it hadn't yet gone sour. Maybe, Bill thought, if I close my eyes, I can pretend it won't. But he didn't bother.
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At his words, she wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Only if you really want me to, but you did say you wouldn't be sleeping alone tonight. And if you want me to stay to sleep..." She'd be willing to do that for him, she left unsaid. It wasn't a wholly selfless thing. It had been months since she'd spent the night with a man, and she could admit to herself that she missed being held that way. She wasn't deluding herself about what this was, but she was willing to suspend reality just for tonight.
"And tomorrow morning, when you're not drunk, we can figure out what to do." About her knowing where he was. She knew what she was supposed to do with that information, but she had no intention of betraying him. As long as her father never learned about this, everything should be fine. "And besides, you don't get to keep the potions I brought if I leave now," she added, not afraid to bribe him. Her bag had been dropped at some point, but she knew the potions would be fine, as the vials were infused with cushioning charms to protect them in a fall or heavy handling.
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"I don't..." He shook his head. "No. I can't. I can't risk you like that."
The words tumbled from his mouth before he really understood what he was saying. Clarity was finally entering his brain although he didn't want it to come. "If someone caught you here... if I wasn't careful... shite." Bill looked away from her, feeling sick and sad as he realized how thoroughly he'd used her. And she was--she could have been a friend. Or... "You can't stay. I don't want you to get hurt."
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Anger flashed in her eyes at what he was doing. There they were, still naked and slick with their coupling, and he was seriously telling her to go? She'd known what this was before she'd even come here, but she hadn't felt used until that very moment. It gnawed at the deeply buried feelings of inadequacy Ari had filled her with when he'd discarded her halfway through the summer. Hurt joined the anger, and she found any words she might have said to be lodged in her throat.
Without a word, she pushed away from him, sliding off his lap and moving around to quickly gather up her clothes. "There's all sorts of hurts, Bill, and you're doing a shit job of things if that's what you didn't want to happen. Where's the loo?" she finally said, grabbing her wand and bag up as well. She'd go to the loo to freshen up and then leave from there, she thought.
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"Wait," he stumbled up and grabbed her arm. "You don't understand. I can't-- I can't--"
Bill couldn't make the words come from his mouth. Here was a woman who had made him laugh, who had understood his love of puzzles, and asked him questions that he couldn't answer. In the world before, this would never have happened. He would have flirted with her, taken her to dinner, and things would have gone pleasantly toward this conclusion. But now he was standing in his own living room, pants around his ankles and reeking of whiskey, saying everything he could to destroy whatever lay between them.
And he thought of Fleur and hated himself more. How had he let himself grow this angry?
His body slumped as he gave in, knowing in that moment that he was everything she had said he was.
"Loo's to the left," he said, pointing, his voice hollow.
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No, she didn't understand, but when he grabbed her arm, she did pause and look up at him expectantly. What did he think he could say to fix this? Was there anything, she wondered? But then, after a long moment, he seemed to deflate and give up. Her frown deepened, and she gave a short nod, accepting that this would be the end of it. Tonight at least, perhaps forever.
Turning to the left, Val headed into the loo, taking care to freshen herself up and get dressed. But before she left, she leaned against the counter and stared into the mirror for a long moment. Her hair was a bit tangled from his hands in it, but any flush from their activities had given way to a certain paleness, an outward sign of her inner disappointment. She glanced down at her bag then, remembering the potions there. She'd told him that he wouldn't get them unless she stayed the night, and a part of her wanted to hold to that, but there was still that other part of her, the part that had found him charming and brilliant and incredibly frustrating and challenging in their previous exchanges, that remembered the risk he'd taken to try to get wolfsbane for a friend, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment.
"Fuck," she muttered. She opened her bag and started pulling the vials out, lining them up on the counter. They were all clearly and neatly labeled, the basic sort of potions you'd be able to pick up at any apothecary, if you weren't a rebel in hiding. When she finished, she plucked the potion to help with his hangover from the lineup and headed out of the loo and back out to the living room. He wasn't there though and she poked around until she spotted him in the kitchen.
Val set the vial down on the counter hard enough to make a loud sound in the quiet. "You don't deserve it, but for the morning... so you can apologize sooner," she suggested. And without waiting for a reply, not wanting to hear drunken, depressed apologies or excuses now, she apparated with a soft crack, heading back to her mother's house.