A Gesture

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rowling owns them all. I merely play with her characters.

This was getting ridiculous. Hermione could feel his gaze on her as she put away her book. If she turned around, though, he’d be looking at his reports. It had been this way for the last five months, since a brief kiss beneath mistletoe at an office party had led to this undeniable awareness between them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, really, but she didn’t understand why they both seemed intent on ignoring the attraction as if that would make it somehow go away. It had only made it worse.

It had been nearly a year since she had arrived at the Gringotts office in Rome and run into Bill Weasley. She’d forgotten that he’d transferred to this office after Fleur’s death and the end of the war. For some reason, she thought Molly had said he’d gone back to Egypt. It had been a surprise to see a familiar face when she’d gone for her first day at work but it had been very nice. Over the months, they’d built a strong friendship and often spent their weekends together.

That kiss had changed things. They were still friends but Bill no longer treated her like an annoying pesty little sister. Instead, she felt him watching her when she wasn’t looking and there was a tension between them every time they casually touched or their eyes met when they were alone. It was rather frustrating that he seemed content to make her feel all flustered and aroused but had no apparent interest in actually doing anything about the tension.

What was worse was that she had become rather infatuated with him prior to that surprisingly passionate kiss so she was left with this unforeseen desire for her best friend’s older brother and the knowledge that she wasn’t his type at all. Bill was handsome, even with the scars that covered one side of his face and neck and simply made him more striking in a dangerous sort of way. She knew he could be charming and flirtatious when necessary , though it wasn’t second nature to him as it had once been. He’d been married to one of the most beautiful women she’d ever met so why on Earth would he be attracted to someone that was relatively pretty with annoying hair and what many called an abrasive personality.

Of course, Bill wasn’t likely to win any personality contests the past few years. Since his attack and Fleur’s subsequent death during the war several months after, he seemed to have become rather moody, quiet, and broody. He didn’t allow people to get close and she knew he’d only befriended her because of his sense of duty to his family and the fact that she was Ron’s best friend and he felt like it was some sort of obligation. True, they’d become actual friends during the months but she didn’t fool herself into believing he’d let her in, even slightly, for any reason beyond not wanting his mum to send him a howler for being rude.

Now there was this awkwardness that she hated and she wished he’d either actually make some sort of gesture of intention or stop looking at her in ways that made her hopeful. Even a definite sign that she was foolish for even considering such a possibility would be nice so she might move on from the fantasy and wondering if something might happen. Instead, she received rather heated gazes when she wasn’t looking, as if she’d not feel the weight of his stare when she was rather attune to him after working with him nearly a year, and indifference when she returned the glance.

It had been a long week. They’d been given one of the most complicated assignments she’d received since becoming a cursebreaker for Gringotts six years ago and it had required very long days that lasted well into the evening. She’d finally found a way to break the curse that had been placed on the building where some wizard had decided to open a café.

She and Bill had finished up earlier and were now back at the office finalizing reports before their weekend could start. She planned to go home and catch up on some sleep, but her tummy growling reminded her that she’d hardly been eating as she’d become consumed with research for the fascinating assignment. If not for some take away that Bill bought for them, she’d probably not have had more than a muffin in the mornings. Hermione put away her book and turned to look at Bill, sighing when she saw that he was staring at his parchment, his quill moving over the paper with a soft scratching sound.

“I’ve got everything finished,” she told him matter-of-factly as she walked back to her desk. She loved this office for two reasons: the view from the window was gorgeous and it had a floor to ceiling bookcase with enough texts to always keep her busy. She shared it with Bill and two other cursebreakers who rarely used their desks.

“I just have to finish the summary,” Bill muttered as he focused on his report. His hair fell around his face, the ends brushing against the parchment as he wrote, and he’d rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, which contrasted nicely with his tan skin and freckles.

She resisted the urge to drool, just barely, and reminded herself that she was twenty-six years old and it was silly to lust for a man who wasn’t interested. It really was time to give up on the dream of having Bill return her interest in a way that went beyond stolen looks of contemplation. She was relatively young and reasonably attractive. There were a few different blokes in the Rome office that had blatantly flirted in a way that made her laugh and roll her eyes far more than take them seriously but it was nice to have men find her worthy of flirting with even in a non-serious manner.

“Well, if you don’t need me for anything else, I think I may go get a bite to eat. Paulo mentioned a café I’d like to try,” she said thoughtfully. “He mentioned a few of them meeting there on Friday nights so maybe a drink and conversation is a good way to end this hellish week.”

“Paulo?” Bill said the name tightly and she looked up from her desk to see him holding his quill tight.

“He’s been trying to get me to meet them for weeks,” she explained. “I’m usually busy on Fridays after work so I’ve never been able to go.”

“So you’ve decided you’d rather spend tonight with Paulo instead of me?”

“We hadn’t discussed doing anything tonight, Bill. As of this afternoon, you said you were exhausted and planned to sleep the entire weekend, if I recall correctly. You could come along if you’d like.”

“Forget it,” he snarled as he looked up and glared at her. “Run along and have fun with Paulo.”

Her eyes narrowed at his tone and she glared right back. “I think I will,” she said tightly as she stood and picked up the last of her books to shelve. She stalked over to the bookcase and wondered how one man could make her so infuriated at the same time she wanted nothing more than to kiss him senseless.

“Paulo is a wanker who wants nothing more than to get into your knickers,” Bill said sullenly after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“I’m not stupid, Bill. I know exactly what Paulo wants,” she informed him coolly. She had no intention of giving Paulo any encouragement and Bill seemed to be missing the point that many of their colleagues went to this café on Friday nights.

The silence seemed almost deafening before she heard what was unmistakably a low growl. “You will not go out with that obnoxious git,” Bill said lowly.

Hermione glanced at him and taunted, “I’ll do anything I please, Bill. I’m twenty-six and don’t need another father, thank you very much. Perhaps I want someone to get into my knickers? It’s been awhile since I’ve had sex, after all, and Paulo is very attractive.”

“I promised Mum that I’d keep an eye on you,” he informed her in a quiet voice that made her shudder slightly from the underlying danger it seemed to possess. “I don’t want you going off with Paulo or anyone else. We always spend the weekend together and have for months. He’s just after one thing.”

His confirmation of her suspicions infuriated her even more. Was that the only reason he still spent time with her? He was scared his mum would be annoyed if he didn’t? She raised her chin and tossed her long hair over her shoulder as she met his gaze without flinching. “My knickers and whomever I choose to let into them are none of your concern, William. Maybe I’m just after one thing and I think Paulo would satisfy those needs extremely---”

He moved faster than she could recall ever seeing him move before. His chair fell over onto the floor and she was pressed against the bookcase with his mouth against hers before she could finish her taunt. Bill’s kiss was rough, desperate, and just as passionate as the one at Christmas if not more so. After her moment of shock, she recovered and began to kiss him back. Her fingers moved into his hair, gripping and tugging as she moved closer to his lean body.

“You’re not going anywhere, Hermione,” he growled against her neck before he nipped at her skin. “I won’t let you.” He bit her again lightly, sucking her skin as he pressed against her. His voice was a hushed whisper against her neck. “Please don‘t go, Hermione.”

“Bill, what are we---” Her voice trailed off into a moan when he licked her throat. That was all it took for his tenuous hold to break. It all happened rather fast after that moan. His hands were suddenly on her everywhere, beneath her skirt and up her blouse, squeezing and gripping until she was certain she was bruising. Instead of making her push him away, she whimpered and pressed against him for more.

“No more talking,” he muttered against her ear before he buried his face in her hair and pushed her against the bookcase hard. His hands were on her arse, and he raised her up until her legs went around his waist for balance. He was hard when he rubbed against the damp crotch of her knickers and she rolled her hips for more friction.

“I like talking,” she murmured as she moved her hand down his back and brushed kisses over the scars on his face. He whimpered softly at the feel of her lips against his skin and kissed her before she reached the vivid scar on his jaw.

Bill pushed her shirt and bra up, squeezing her arse as his other hand caressed her breast, long fingers tugging and twisting her hard nipple until she forgot all about talking and just wanted more. The bookcase was uncomfortable behind her but the scent of books mixed with the masculine scent of Bill in a way that aroused her in a way she might very well find a bit weird when this was all over.

Her skirt was shoved around her waist and she pulled back from his mouth, bumping her head on one of the shelves behind her as she moaned when she felt his finger against her knickers. “You’re mine, Hermione,” he growled softly in a raspy voice that was far too arousing. His fingers pushed aside the crotch of her knickers and she gasped when one moved over her wet cunt, barely pushing inside her. “No one else is ever going to get into your knickers.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” she managed to pant as he finally moved two fingers inside her and began to move them in and out to get her ready for him. The elastic of her knickers rubbed against her skin and she whined when he pushed his fingers in harder at her words and his thumb rubbed her clit. God, where had this man come from? She’d wondered if he’d be slow and gentle or rough and assertive, but her fantasies hadn’t prepared her for just how masculine and passionate Bill really was when he finally let go.

“Hermione, tell me,” he demanded as he crooked his fingers.

“I don’t want anyone else, Bill,. It‘s been you for ages,” she whispered as she rocked against his hand.

He hissed at her words and kissed her again as he pulled his hand away from her cunt and fumbled with the zip of his trousers. His cock pressed against her but the angle was awkward and it simply slide along her wet lips the first time he thrust his hips forward. The second time, it was in the right position and she whimpered when she felt him push inside her.

Logically, she knew it probably hadn’t been more than five minutes since he knocked over his chair but it had been months of wanting and needing and her body was more than ready for him. It had been awhile since she’d shagged someone, several years, in fact, so her body took a moment to adjust as he suddenly thrust completely inside her.

He waited a moment, giving her time to adjust, and then he began to move. Each shove of his body against hers sent her against the bookcase. Soon, she was pushing back, pulling his hair in a way that made him growl in the way she had decided was one of the most arousing noises she’d ever heard. There wasn’t time for foreplay nor were they in any position for teasing and taking their time. That would come later, she realized, knowing Bill well enough to know this wasn’t a one off for him.

It was rough and wild, truly just fucking after months of wanting and needing this, but she knew it meant more than that. That knowledge was why she was able to just let go and just feel. She pulled his shirt up, scratching his bare skin as they moved together, loving the way he touched her and the way he made her feel. He thrust deep every time he pushed inside her, his hips moving more urgently now, faster and deeper, and she felt the tension grow, build, her breath coming in soft gasps and pants.

She was shoved against the bookcase at the same time he pulled her down against him, his body shuddering as he spilled inside her with a low grunt against her neck. She wiggled against him as he came, trying to get friction, and finally just reached between them and rubbed her clit with her finger until she came with a soft whimper. He held her during her orgasm and nuzzled her neck as he made shallow thrusts inside her until he finally slid out of her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he moved his finger over the bites now covering her neck and shoulders.

“Don’t,” she warned as she unwrapped her legs from around his hips and stood somewhat shakily. She felt their combined release dripping from her and made a slight face. She also really needed to pee. Hermione pushed her bra and shirt back down and then looked at him, taking a moment to discreetly ogle the now limp flesh that had just been inside her and still glistened with their come, and then met his gaze. “No apologies, Bill.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she explained rather shyly. “I, uh, I liked it. Do you regret it?”

“God, no,” he said sincerely. “I’ve thought about nothing else since that bloody mistletoe.”

At his confession, she relaxed and wondered why it had taken them so long to get to this point. She watched him fasten his trousers and noticed the look of insecurity as he straightened his shirt and briefly touched the scar on his throat. She’d wanted a gesture of some sort and being shagged against the bookcase went beyond the kiss or request for a date that she’d hoped for. It was time for her to give him a gesture of her own intentions.

She stepped forward and brushed a kiss against his jaw before she met his gaze. “I need a shower,” she told him matter-of-factly. She walked to her desk and picked up her bag before she held out her hand, shaking only slightly as she asked a question that meant far more than just a shower. “Care to join me?”

Bill walked towards her and took her hand, his fingers tangling with hers as he pulled her closer. He kissed her, rough and tender, passionate and gentle, and lightly stroked her cheek with his hand as he smiled. “Yes,” he told her in the raspy voice that made her shudder. “I’d really like that, Hermione.”

The End