Chapter Text
In the beginning, Hermione clawed and kicked any time someone came near her, but she quickly learned that was not the right way to go about it. It took up far too much energy and usually left her worse off. That didn’t mean she made things easy for her captures, of course. Instead of fighting as she’s dragged to the dungeons of yet another austere Manor house with her arms bound behind her back, she lets her feet drag a bit so they have to bear the brunt of her weight.
There were a lot of secrets that Hermione wanted to keep, and she had successfully done so for nearly three months. By her approximation, that is how long she had been a prisoner.
It had been at least two full moons, and if her calculations were correct, either that night or the next would be the third.
All in all, it hadn’t been an entirely unpleasant experience. As far as being a prisoner of war goes, at least. In the beginning she spent a lot of her time waiting for death, or worse, at the hands of one of the masked Death Eaters charged with her care, but it never came. It almost felt like they were growing bored with her at one point.
Then they stopped torturing her altogether after a while. She supposed they were trying to play some sort of psychological game with her, but it hadn’t really worked. Most days it seemed as though they had forgotten about her entirely, and if it weren’t for the meager meals magically appearing three times a day, she would have assumed they had. Oddly, in all her time as a captive, she had yet to be subjected to Voldemort to himself. If anyone would’ve been able to rip through her mental defenses, it certainly would’ve been him.
From the snippets of information she had overheard during her time as a prisoner, she had reason to believe that Voldemort might be unwell, which brought her immense satisfaction.
The war had raged on for years, but during that time they had at least been able to destroy all of the Horcruxes, save for the snake, and Voldemort himself.
If she ever had moments of self out, she just reminded herself of how close they really were. She just needed to survive, and collect whatever information she could from her position.
Late that evening, for example, she knew there was something big happening. Her Death Eater grunts had forced her into a tepid bath, in a poorly conjured metal tub, at wand point. They even Scourgified her clothes while she quickly did her washing. In an utterly bizarre turn of events, one of them had done a few charms on her hair to dry it and give the curls some bounce. The thought that one of the people that had just watched her bathe might be a witch was actually incredibly comforting, but it was short lived. Hermione saw the red flash of a stunner and the next moment she was being dragged to the dungeons.
“Get back, blood traitor!” The taller Death Eater called into the cell, and she immediately perked up.
There were only a handful of so-called blood traitors who would have been on Voldemort’s radar, who were also valuable enough to be kept as a prisoner.
With a tap of a dark wand, the wrought iron door to the cell swung open and Hermione was flung inside, landing gracelessly on her hands and knees.
“Enjoy your time together,” the Death Eater quipped as they slammed the door shut behind her and began to stride away. “While it lasts.”
Hermione almost missed the parting words, because she was focused on a deep snarl coming from the corner of the dungeon and a pair of glowing, golden eyes. As soon as the footsteps had faded, he lunged for her.
“No!!” Bill let out an audible growl as he crushed her to his chest, then pulled back to look her over, checking her for injuries. He turned her this way and that, frantically inspecting her as he spoke. “Hermione! Are you alright? I can’t believe you are here. Why are you here? There is something–”
He was cut off when Hermione threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips to his. Bill’s arms relaxed before they dropped to her waist and pulled her into him more intimately than before.
“Fuck, I have missed you,” he whispered agaisnt her lips. “I thought I had lost you.”
Hermione kissed his lips once more then his cheek. “I’m alright, Bill, I swear it! I’ve mostly been ignored for the last several weeks.” She stole another quick kiss. “I’m perfectly fine. How long have you been here?”
“Just a few hours. It was bad luck, really. I apparated right into the middle of a group of Snatchers while on my way to our spot to set wards for the full. There were too many of them, to even bother fighting it,” He said with a lazy smile.
“Do they know?” Bill shook his head, but she needed further clarification. “That we’re mates or that you’re a werewolf?”
“Neither. I gather they know we are together, from their little parting jab, but no one outside of the Order knows. They touched me way too casually. You know how most people are around my kind.” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders as if to say it was to be expected.
They had been together for almost five years, since he and Fleur had split amicably. Well, as amicably as anyone could split in the middle of a war knowing that their werewolf husband was bound to another. Fortunately, there were no hard feelings on that front. It was not as if they could have predicted the bond manifesting between them.
Hermione had never really thought of herself as a relationship person, largely because she has spent all of her youth focusing on her education and keeping Harry alive, but when it happened, it was as natural as waking in the morning or taking a deep breath. That was until Bill’s first wolfy bout of soul loathing.
He had tried to break things off, convinced he would hurt her or somehow become a burden to her. It still happened from time to time, and usually coincided with her suggesting they seal the bond.
From his lack of panic, she deduced that the full moon was not until the following night, which was a relief. She had hours to convince him instead of mere minutes, and even then, it would likely be too late. With a fortifying breath, she broached the subject once again.
“We have to seal the bond, Bill”
“No,” he said stubbornly. “We’ve already been through this. I won’t have you burdened with the likes of me. After the war is over, you’ll be free to change the world, and being married to a… to someone like me will only weigh you down.”
“I’ll have no life at all if we aren’t bonded before the full moon rises. You may not want me, but your wolf certainly does. Do you really think he’ll be capable of being gentle while his unbonded mate is in such close proximity?”
A low growl rumbled from his chest, betraying the stoic facade he was presenting.
Hermione poked him in the chest, hard. “Growl at me all you want, William Weasley, but it doesn’t change the facts!”
“We’ll figure something else out. I won’t burden you like that,” he replied through gritted teeth.
He was absolutely infuriating, so she told him so.
“I want nothing more than for you to burden me, you unimaginable arse! Please, weigh me down! Anchor me to the only real thing in this fucked up world, and maybe then I’ll be able to make sense of my life!”
Bill shook his head in a stubborn, jerky manner. “You don’t mean that, Hermione.”
Balling his shirt up in her hands, she yanked him closer. “Stop telling me what I think! You don’t know what I feel, nor what’s going on inside my head. I’ve never changed my mind about this. I’ve never once wavered. It’s you who doesn’t want this, Bill, not me!”
In a lightning fast movement, a large hand came up to grip the sides of her face firmly enough to pucker her lips. “Stop telling me what it is I don't want, witch! You have no idea what’s going on inside of my head either.”
“Because you won’t tell me,” she countered, making him tighten his grip on her face.
“I don’t want you to throw away your life,” he replied gruffly. “Is that so wrong of me?”
Hermione snorted indignantly and attempted to jerk out of his grip, but he just held her more tightly and laced the fingers of his free hand into the hair at the nape of her neck.
“I’ll have no life at all without you,” she managed despite his grip. “That’s how mates work.”
His nostrils flared as a look of disgust took over his beautifully scared face. She knew it was aimed at himself, but she still didn’t like it.
“I love you, Bill.”
His eyes flared a bright golden color before returning to their usual ocean blue. “You shouldn’t.”
She tried to jerk again, and he tightened his grip in her hair, making heat bloom in her lower belly. “Too bad! Take it or leave it! Doesn’t change how I feel.”
“It doesn’t,” he agreed, as he dropped his hand from her face. “And what if I were to take it, hmmm? What then? You’ll still be stuck in this tiny cage with a fully transformed werewolf, and I’ll have no way to help you without my Wolfsbane.”
“Firstly, your wolf would never hurt his bonded mate, and secondly,” she flicked her eyes pointedly towards the door, “who says we’re trapped? They don’t know of your condition, and won’t have warded the door properly.”
Bill assessed her shrewdly for a moment. “You’ve already thought this through.”
It came across as an accusation, but that was probably a fair assessment.
“I have. If I get my hands on a wand, we could take them out one by one. And if your wolf can catch the snake…” she trailed off, watching as he put the pieces together.
His whole expression lit up with understanding. “And you’re sure werewolf venom will destroy the Horcrux?”
“Yes, the venom would be lethal to Nagini. Destroy the vessel, and we destroy the Horcrux. Then it’s just him.” Hermione loved seeing the determination flare in his eye at her words, and couldn’t help but smile up at him. “They, the Death Eaters, talk about him like he’s sickly or something. What if…”
Bill inhaled sharply. “We could finally end it?”
Hermione nodded, but didn’t speak. She could almost feel her victory and didn’t want to say anything that might send him into another spiral of self loathing.
“I do love you, you know, even though you deserve better,” he said in a low tone before leaning down to kiss her gently, just once. “Let’s try to get some rest. We’ll discuss it in the morning.”
Just as she was about to argue, he kissed her again. His lips were so soft and warm that she melted into him and openly pouted when he pulled away. “You’re asking me to either let you die or shackle you to me for an eternity and still potentially watch you die, Hermione. Give me this, please.”
His voice already sounded so sad, so raw, that it nearly broke her heart.
She leaned up on her tip toe and stole another kiss. “Alright, whatever you want.”
Like he had said, their time was limited no matter what they decided. She could give him this.
For the first time in months, she woke up feeling warm and comfortable. It was the most wonderful feeling, until she realized that someone was shaking her.
“Hermione! I need you to wake up, love.”
Her eyes snapped open in an instant and she tried to scramble up to a seated position, but strong arms held her tightly. She looked around the pitch black dungeon and realized it must still be the middle of the night.
“Shhh! Shh! It’s alright, it’s just me,” Bill said in a low whisper and kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I had to wake you, but something is happening upstairs. There are a lot more footsteps, and what sounds like cheering.”
Hermione relaxed back into his chest. “Revels,” she explained groggily. “They go on for days sometimes. From what I’ve gathered, they’re drunken celebrations meant to boost morale. I’m sure someone will stumble down here in a day or two looking for a new play thing. Honestly that’s probably why I was brought back to Malfoy Manor.”
A low growl rumbled through Bill’s chest. “So there will be an entire Manor full of shit faced Death Eaters during the full?”
“I would imagine so,” she said, trying to stifle a yawn. “If we move at the right time, after they’ve drank themselves into a stupor, it should make our job easy.”
They lulled into a comfortable silence that stretched and almost pulled her back to sleep, until Bill softly broke it, and spoke in an almost shy tone that was so unlike him normally.
“Are you sure that I’m what you want? If we do this, I worry that you will wake up a year from now and regret it,” he whispered softly, then pressed his lips to her temple. “That you’ll put on a brave face while drowning under the weight of it all.”
“I could never regret you,” she said in an equally low tone. “The world after the war won’t be the same as before, Bill. We don’t even have to stay in Britain if you don’t want to. Once we know everyone is safe, we could go anywhere.”
Bill sighed heavily. “I wanted so much more for you.”
Hermione snuggled into him, letting her lips brush against the base of throat. “I only ever wanted you.”
It was quiet for a moment, and then he kissed her forehead again. “In the morning, then. That way you can recover your strength before the full.”
With their impossibly close position and his steady breathing, it didn’t take long for sleep to begin to claim her again. There was a gentle movement at her temple and soft words whispered into the dark of night.
“I’ll be strong for you, love. We will be strong enough to protect you from whatever may come. I just need you to protect my heart, little mate. It will surely break if I lose you.” There was another gentle movement, a kiss, this time on her forehead.
“I’ll be your anchor, if you’ll be mine.”