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“This is … “ was all that Hermione Granger could say as she turned a circle in the center of the sumptuous ballroom.
Her expression was transformed with wonder for she had never seen such luxury; the ceiling of stained-glass panels, the glittering chandelier, the walls lined with gilded columns, the heavy swaths of light blue velvet.
She couldn’t take her eyes from the gorgeous paintings of Ancient Veela, armored to the teeth, some in the midst of a transformation, some fully turned and facing what seemed like wizards.
Quietly, she absorbed the stories depicted thanks to the faithful hands that transferred lifetime tales to the enchanted canvas.
She could sense the thousands of dramas that had unfolded; the lives gained and lost, the excitement, the anger, the fear, the wild joy, and the resilience to win the promised freedom at last.
It was as if she were poised at the doorway of a forbidden, secret world.
She fumbled with the hem of her simple cotton summer dress and couldn’t shake the feeling of being awkward and way over her head as one Veela in particular, looking haughtily from his portrait, wouldn’t stop scrutinizing her. Like all his brethren, he was silver-blond and blue-eyed, his superior expression made him look like he smelt something foul and couldn’t wait for the offender to make himself scarce.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? That bastard Florian has every right to brag seeing that he grew up in such luxury,” Bill Weasley snorted and she nodded absently.
Florian Delacour was a French Veela and her best friend Calanthe Potter’s fiancé.
She traveled to Paris with Calanthe’s closest friends to attend the bonding ceremony, but she didn’t expect all this…extravagance and refinement.
She knew that Florian’s family was well-off, being an old French Wizarding family, yet his kindness and the way he dressed in simple, muggle attires hadn’t prepared her for what she was beholding.
As the bride and groom’s best friends, Hermione and Bill were entrusted with supervising the preparations and making sure that everything was perfect.
Bill chuckled. ”These Veela never do things in half measures, do they?”
Their arms grazed accidentally and an odd sensation crept over her, a ticklish feeling on the back of her neck and a crazy flutter of her heart.
Her movements slowed unintentionally and she fought the need to sigh.
Disturbed, she glanced at the doorway and said. ”No. But they’re delightful people.”
And it was the truth. Florian’s family welcomed them with open arms and made sure that their stay in the Ancestral Delacour Manor was enjoyable.
His mother Madame Apolline Delacour was a famous Enchantress while his father, Monsieur Sebastian Delacour was the Head of the Department of Foreign Affairs in the French Ministry of Magic.
An inner awareness prompted her to gaze upward at Bill’s face and she wished she didn’t.
His piercing blue eyes were surveying the different nuances of her expression, looking for something that went deeper than what she was ready to offer willingly.
It occurred to her then that it was always the same with the oldest Weasley.
Since they met in her fourth year, she couldn’t deny the crush she had developed.
Bill was an amazing wizard, his gentle nature and kindness being his strong point, not to mention his great intellect and his passion for Ancient Runes and Warding.
She had always been aware of the difference between the sparkling allure of the witches that would steal Bill’s attention and her average attractiveness.
She guessed that he was accustomed to very accomplished and beautiful women and she knew there was nothing exotic or remarkable about her.
Things got trickier in her sixth year when he had been bitten by the notorious Fenrir Greyback.
Everyone feared that he had contacted the Lycanthropy and would need to transform every month.
Thankfully, it was revealed that Florian had arrived in time and taken him to the infirmary before all hope was lost. Madame Pomfrey had cleaned the bite and halted the spreading of the infection.
She wasn’t sure what that incident entailed, how it changed Bill, but she knew that he wasn’t a full werewolf, not like Remus Lupin at least.
However, no one could deny his animalistic aura…
There was something wild, barely contained behind the veil of his clear blue eyes. The scars he gained courtesy of Fenrir’s claws added to the mystery clinging to him like a second skin.
The memory of what she did, of how stupid she was, poured over her like a bucket of icy water.
Her hands balled into fists and her heart closed as she remembered Ron.
Tears of shame and frustration wanted to squirt out at the corners of her eyes but she fought tooth and nail to maintain her composure.
She couldn’t understand what foolery spurned the unwarranted attraction she developed for her old friend.
Was it their dire circumstances? Her loneliness and need for human contact? The fear that she wouldn’t survive the war?
Whatever it had been, it ruined seven years of what she thought was an everlasting friendship.
Now that she looked back at what she learned, she understood that her first impression was right.
Ron Weasley was indeed a jealous and lazy prat. She wondered how he fooled her and Calanthe all these years.
There was goodness in him, there was no doubt about that, but his temper and the harsh words he let out unfiltered whenever he was piqued overshadowed any good traits he might possess.
She remembered how he had rebelled against her decision to go back to school and then pursue a career in the Department of Mysteries.
He had insisted that as the Golden Trio, they had to remain together and become Aurors as his creative mind forged years ago.
Much the same as Calanthe, Hermione had enough of violence and wars. For once, she wanted to look out for herself and follow her real passion.
She was curious by nature and nothing thrilled her more than unveiling mysteries and understanding the fascinating, fine distinctions of this unexpected world she was thrown into, hence her firm decision to become an Unspeakable.
Being narrow-minded and unapologetically stubborn, Ron couldn’t realize her feelings and understand her need to start a new venture far removed from what they went through.
She had known then that she made a consequential mistake.
Not only she didn’t love him, not really, but she ruined all chances of a friendship with the redhead, putting Calanthe in the middle of their quarrel.
Thankfully, with the help of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Calanthe, and surprisingly Charlie, Ron swallowed his pride and started talking to her again cordially.
A silent agreement was made between them to never mention the two months they spent dating and pretend that it never happened.
Hermione’s treacherous thoughts took her back to the wizard walking by her side.
He moved with ease and confidence like some wild but naturally graceful beast. Her heart was beating rapidly and she didn’t know if it was from the intensity of his gaze or the way his body accidentally touched hers every now and then.
He was warm and oddly familiar.
“Hermione?” Bill murmured and she tried to hold herself away from him, hardly daring to breathe.
His dark blue shirt was open at the throat and she could see the curling dark red hairs on his exposed upper chest. She felt mesmerized as she stared at his throat, where a few scars crisscrossed.
Her mouth went dry and unconsciously, her hand went to her own throat caressing her pulse point.
Bill made a little sound that could have meant anything and his big hand went to her upper arm, holding her steady.
“Are you alright? You look flushed all of a sudden.” He observed kindly.
She was amazed at the steadiness of her voice as she said. ”I’m fine, thank you. I guess I’m a bit tired and then overwhelmed by all this Veela history.”
Bill chuckled and shook his head and her arm burned where his touch still lingered.
“I know the feeling. It was the same when Florian invited me to his humble abode for the first time. It was a miracle I didn’t embarrass myself.”
Hermione grinned. ”It’s not every day you learn that your best friend grew up in a castle.”
Bill smirked and bent his head down to whisper something. His face was very close, so close that his eyelashes could almost brush her forehead.
Hermione lowered her eyes, breaking the hot intensity of his gaze. ”But I learned many of his childhood mishaps too. I may share some if you ask nicely.”
She stammered like a schoolgirl. ”Oh that…that can be very interesting. I’m sure Calanthe would like to hear them.”
“I thought so,” Bill shrugged, his eyes never leaving her, “how about I tell you later, during the ceremony? I was told that you don’t have a date, just like me. We are two poor British comrades facing all these pompous French Veela, we should support each other. And just to put your mind at ease, I’m a good dancer.”
For a moment, she stood staring at him as if frozen.
His eyes were darker, with a strange amber hue as they looked down at her with hunger and something else she couldn’t decipher.
Hermione shivered inexplicably feeling something taut and expectant that quivered between them.
Bill tilted his head, waiting for her answer, and deep inside her something opened like a flower reaching for the sun.
Her lips trembled as she averted her gaze, feeling the fire burning her cheeks, and breathed. ”I like the idea.”
❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅
“Careful Billy-Boy, you look feral and I’m afraid Hermione will run at the first sight of the wolf peeking through your eyes,” Florian threw nonchalantly as he scrutinized his perfect Acromantula silk white ceremonial robes.
“Thank you for the priceless advice,” Bill sneered, running another hand through his long red hair.
“I’m serious Bill. I can feel your wolf’s irritation and impatience. You did well today and took the first step, don’t ruin things. I know that I won’t be able to handle Calanthe if she calls for your blood,” Florian said steadily and he sighed.
“It had been years since you’ve been whipped, so nothing is surprising here. I’m trying mate. I sense her attraction and how her magic is calling for my wolf. I wonder sometimes, why Mother Magic chose someone so young and innocent as my mate.”
“You sound like you mind,” was Florian’s sardonic reply.
“Of course I don’t!” Bill growled, then glared when the bastard, who wouldn’t get enough of his reflection smirked, “but she’s ten years my junior, and then, she used to date my brother.”
Bill held his breath for a moment, then let it burst forth when he knew he was calm enough.
It still killed him every time he remembered the moment Ron strode inside the kitchen, fingers intertwined with Hermione’s, and announced that they had started dating.
His mother wouldn’t stop gushing and setting plans for a future wedding, probably picking up names for Ronnickens’ future kids.
His wolf almost leapt at this brother in its anger.
He had hungered for Hermione since he recognized what she was to him. However, he had been fascinated by her since the first time she visited the Burrow, with her fancy words and her immaculate manners, her bravery, and her unwavering loyalty.
Savagely he wished he had never met her.
She should be married to a normal wizard and located well out of his beast’s reach. She belonged with someone wholesome, without Greyback’s curse darkening their life.
A stab of violent jealousy for Ron caused Bill to scowl but he knew that his hands were tied.
The war had just come to an end and he was aware of how much Hermione had suffered and had sacrificed to remain by her best friend’s side.
He wanted her to live, to experiment, to try before he tied her to his side for all eternity, if she accepted him that is.
He wanted her, both his sides howling in betrayal and agony at the sight of their mate touching another male, but he couldn’t force her to like him, to choose him, never.
The two months Hermione had dated Ron were a trial he never wanted to experience again.
It had driven him to leave the Burrow and crash in Florian’s guest room unannounced.
Florian sighed and looked at him intently, some silky locks gleamed silver, escaping in delicate wisps around his face and collar.
“Bill, this is your chance. As a Veela, I am more empathetic than you, mere humans. Hermione fancies you too, she just needs someone to open her eyes. It’s your privilege as her mate to be the bearer of such good news.” He said, his voice amused at first then dead serious.
“You’re not solely human Bill, you have to accept your creature fully and listen carefully. Believe me; the wolf always knows what’s best for you.”
Forcing his muscles to loosen, Bill stood and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. ”You’re a good friend Florian. I’m lucky to have you in my life.”
Florian raised his chin dramatically and scoffed. ”I hate to remind you again, but Je suis parfait. You better remember that, Billy.”
Bill groaned. ”Alright, maybe I was a bit hasty. Let’s take care of you first and make sure that you’re perfect for the ceremony.”
☆: *.☽ .* :☆
Bill smiled.
Inactivity did not sit well with Hermione. How vital she had looked taking care of Calanthe until the last moment, making sure that everything went smoothly.
Her small hands moved relentlessly as she directed Gabrielle, Luna, and Neville to fulfill the tasks they were entrusted with.
He had longed to reach out and clasp her hands tightly in his, to calm her and tell her that she did well, that she was the best friend any witch could ask for.
It still frustrated him that Ginny and Ron refused to attend the ceremony, their jealousy blinding them to the truth that Florian and Calanthe were always meant for each other.
Ginny was too spoiled for his liking and Ron, sadly, took her side again and confirmed once again that he was but a git.
Throwing away thoughts of his annoying siblings, Bill took careful steps and sat next to Hermione.
She was gazing at the lake by the Manor, where a couple of graceful swans glided through the dark water, lit only by some beams of moonlight.
Her legs were hanging over the bench and her expression was serene and content.
“Everything went well,” she murmured, without turning her head, ‘’I’m so happy for them.”
Bill nodded absently; his eyes riveted to the game of hide and seek the shadows were playing over her long, brown hair.
“It was beautiful,” he breathed, getting unconsciously closer.
With his sharper eyes, he noticed the infusion of color to her cheeks.
The memory of her lithe body in his arms as they danced to the slow music would remain with him for a while and sustain his need for his mate.
It was impossible to stop looking at her and without thinking, his hand went to her cheek, grazing the silky skin gently.
“You’re beautiful.” His fingers burrowed in her hair, running through the soft strands.
She straightened her neck, seeking more contact and he didn’t know what to make of it.
He forced himself to tread gently, and with a voice that failed to carry what his heart was burdened with, he started. ”Hermione, I…”
She surprised him as she turned her head.
Her chocolate-brown eyes were piercing and intent as she said. ”Bill, I started wondering about…this thing between us a while ago, and then, you know that subtlety was never one of Calanthe’s virtues. You see…I…you…me…”
Color infused her cheeks again and he feared that she might burst before he confessed.
His hands gripped her shoulders tightly, halting her feeble attempts to explain.
“You’re my mate. I’ve always known but I wanted you to choose me freely, to look at me like you’re doing now,” he offered unabashed, getting tired of hiding what his wolf wouldn’t stop screaming day and night.
“If you accept to have me, I’ll be yours forever and you’ll remain in my arms till the moon raises no more.”
Hermione leaned her forehead against his shoulder and he heard her muffled whisper. ”What about Ron and Mrs. Weasley? I fear that they…”
“I don’t care.” Bill said honestly, ‘’You’re all that matters. They will understand and accept you with time or they won’t…I don’t care either way.”
Hermione snorted, the sound foreign coming from her lips and he couldn’t wait.
Bill drove his hands into her hair and lifted her head gently. ”Hermione, I need…”
And then his mouth covered hers hard and possessive. His creature howled its satisfaction and the wolf's blood ran like molten lava through his veins, singing its mate’s name.
A sob rose in her throat and she pressed against him.
His arms came around her and his breath caught in his throat as the smell of her blood drifted to his ravenous nostrils.
Dazzled by the wonder of the new sensations, his lips moved to her throat caressing her pulse.
Seeing the rosy skin, he growled. ”Soon Hermione, I’ll mark you soon and the moon will forever live in the lining of your skin.”
Her glazed eyes held awakening and wonder as they looked at him and she gifted him her most radiant smile.
Bill held her to his chest, kissed the crown of her head, and raised his head gazing at the moon, secure in the knowledge that she would never abandon her children.