Title: A Different Kind of Hungry
Author: nehalenia
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Hermione Granger-Weasley (implied Remus/Tonks, Ron/Hermione)
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Infidelity, het, anal, liberal use of a certain "c" word
Theme/Kinks chosen: Alternate Pairing: Remus/Hermione
Word Count: 3328
Summary: Mrs. Weasley has prepared a lovely holiday dinner at the Burrow; but that isn't what Hermione is hungry for.
Notes: My first non-Snape pairing fic, and OMG my first het. (And you know, I've discovered there's a reason I write slash: it's because I suck at writing het. Well, it's good to try new things. Cest la vie.) It's also unbeta'd and probably full of mistakes and continuity errors. Consider yourselves warned.




The Burrow was always warm at Christmas time. There was a fire roaring in the hearth, candles floating about the laden table, and brilliant smiles on every Weasley face, but to Hermione Granger-Weasley, the hottest thing in the room was the look in Remus Lupin’s eyes. Seated on the other side of the table and two Weasleys up, he still had the shaggy, silver-brown hair and affable expression of the professor she had known as a girl, but when his eyes glinted in her direction, Hermione felt a heat inside her that owed nothing to familial warmth. Shifting a little in her seat, she turned her attention to her plate, but she barely tasted the turkey she forked into her mouth. It wasn’t what she was hungry for.

Beside her, Ron had little Rose on his lap and was feeding her bits of mash from his own plate. Across the table, Hermione saw Tonks – her hair a festive Christmas red – hold up her wine glass and nudge her husband’s arm. Remus turned to her with his usual smile, summoned the wine bottle and refilled her glass. When he set the bottle down, his eyes flicked up to meet Hermione’s for the briefest instant. A very different kind of smile quirked
one corner of his mouth, and she looked down quickly, feeling the heat of it curling in her pelvis and moving down between her legs.

“All right, Hermione. What spell did you use on him?”

“What?” Hermione started, nearly dropping her fork, but it was only Ginny, leaning over to ask her a question. “What are you talking about?” Her heart was galloping like a runaway horse at the thought that someone had seen the way Remus Lupin had looked at her.

“Ron, of course,” Ginny laughed, nodding across Hermione to where Ron was gloating to George over baby Rose’s skill at gumming potatoes. “I never imagined he’d be so good with the baby. Figured he’d probably leave you all the work till she could sit a broom properly. How’d you do it?”

“It’s no spell of mine,” Hermione sighed, looking at her husband and daughter. “He’s been utterly besotted from the moment she came out. I practically had to kidnap her just to get her fed, and Ron would pout until we were done. I swear, if he could have found a way to grow a set, he’d have breast-fed her himself.”

“Oh, now there’s an image I could have done without,” Ginny grimaced. “Especially over dinner.”

“You asked,” Hermione laughed with a shrug, and went back to pushing her food around. She ended up transferring most of it to Ron’s plate.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her when he noticed her slipping a slice of turkey next to his peas. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m just not that hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” Ron shrugged, popping a forkful into his mouth. When she turned back, it was to find Remus Lupin’s eyes upon her once again. She shivered briefly, feeling her nipples tighten even as he looked away. Those eyes knew exactly what she was hungry for.


When everyone had finished eating and abandoned the table for naps or card games or listening to the wireless, Hermione got her coat and made her way through the kitchen.

“Just going out for a bit of air,” she told Mrs. Weasley as she pulled her coat on.

“You weren’t looking quite yourself at dinner, dear,” her mother-in-law tutted as she sorted leftovers at the counter. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a lie-down?”

“No, I expect a walk will be better for me,” she assured the older woman. “Ron’s putting the baby down for her nap now, and, well, it seems I get so little time for myself these days…”

“Go on then, dear,” Mrs. Weasley waved her off with a sympathetic look. “I understand completely. Enjoy your ramble.”

“I’m sure I will,” Hermione smiled, flinging a scarf around her neck and heading out the door.

No snow lay on the ground, but the sky was low and threatening and the air smelled even colder than it felt. Her breath huffing before her, Hermione made her way through the garden, heading toward the track beyond. The scent of pipe smoke, sweet and heavy, stopped her just at the gate, and she looked around to see Remus leaning against the back of the garden shed, a polished briar in one hand. He was looking right at her, and it made the blood swirl in her veins.

“Tonks hates the smell,” Remus said, holding up the pipe with a conspiratorial grin. She watched, completely silent, as he upended the smoking briar, whacked it against the heel of his hand so that the embered tobacco spilled out onto the cold dirt, then stowed it in the pocket of his coat.

“Come here,” he said, and the tone of command in that soft, hoarse voice made her heart thud against her chest and a surge of moisture blossom between her legs. For a moment she thought her knees might buckle, but she turned and walked toward him until he caught her by the shoulder, opened the door and guided her inside the Weasleys’ garden shed. She barely had time to register the tools leaning against the wall, the sacks of potting soil stacked on the floor or the cool, earthy smell of the place before the door closed and Remus’ hands were on her. She turned, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his silvered hair and pull him down. Their mouths bumped in a clumsy, off-center kiss, and the scrape of his stubbled cheek against her softer skin made her moan just as they sealed their lips together and his rough, wet tongue invaded her mouth.

Yes, her brain shouted as his hands wove into her hair and down her neck, his fingers cold against her skin as he worked them under both her coat and jumper. She sucked his tongue in deep, struggling to pull him closer, but Remus made a rough sound in his throat and drew back. When they broke apart, both of them were gasping, their breath misting together in the cold air. Even in the half-light of the shed, Hermione could see the feral glint in his eyes.

“Get these off,” he said, throwing her scarf aside and fumbling at the buttons of her coat. “We haven’t much time.”

“I know,” she panted, helping him with the buttons. “Where’s Tonks?”

“Playing games with Teddy and Victoire,” he huffed, shucking off her coat. “Ron?”

“Won’t even notice I’m gone,” Hermione snorted, tugging Remus’ coat off. “He’s so wrapped up in the baby, he barely notices I’m there at all.”

“Then he’s a very great fool,” Remus said, shaking his coat to the ground and pushing Hermione against the wall. Before she could say anything in response, he was against her, his knee parting her legs and both hands moving under her jumper, sliding over her stomach, along her sides and up. “Oh, Merlin, you’re not wearing a bra,” he groaned as he cupped her bare breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her hard nipples.

“Took it off in the toilet before I came out here,” she said, breathless at the sensations traveling through her body at his touch. “Oh, god, Remus, yes,” she groaned as he twirled her nipples. “Pinch them. Harder.”

He did better than that. With a low growl, he shoved her jumper above her chest and took one of them in his teeth, biting and sucking as he twisted the other one hard between thumb and fingers. Hermione threw her head back against the wall and moaned at the pleasure/pain of it, winding her fingers in Remus’ thick hair and rubbing her crotch against his thigh.

“God, Remus,” she panted, squirming on his leg. “I can’t stand it. Touch me—oh fuck, please!”

Remus pulled off her nipple and considered her for a moment. “What a hungry girl you are,” he said softly, one hand still cupping a breast, the other running down her side and over her hip to lift and tug at her skirt. “Just what is it you’re hungry for, Hermione?”

“You,” she gasped, whimpering when he moved his leg away and replaced it with his hand. “Oh, yes,” she groaned, writhing against him as he cupped her mound. “Yes, there, please.”

“Here?” he teased, stroking her through her knickers in a way that was driving her mad.

“Fuck!” she hissed, grabbing his hand and pressing it harder against her crotch as she humped it. “You know what I want. Please.”

“Say it,” he growled, working one finger under the crotch of her drenched knickers and teasing at her labia. “Tell me what you want.”

“God!” she whined, rocking her head against the wall. “My clit, damn it. Touch it. Please, Remus, rub my clit the way you do.”

“You mean, like this?” he smiled, dropping to his knees before her and tugging her knickers aside.

“Yes,” she moaned, holding up her skirt and thrusting her hips forward as his fingers parted her moist slit and pulled her open like a piece of wet fruit. “Yes, yes, like that!” she whimpered as he exposed her clit, holding the hood back with one thumb and circling the sensitive nub with the other. She groaned as he wet his fingers by sliding them along her dripping cunt, then began rubbing them over her clit in steady little circles, never varying the speed or pressure, but never stopping either.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, clutching Remus’ hair with one hand, her breath coming faster as the muscles in her cunt began to twitch and flutter. “Just like that. Yes, fuck, just like that, Remus. Don’t stop.”

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you, Hermione?” Remus said, low and rough, and she felt another surge of moisture just from the sound of his voice and the warmth of his breath on her tender flesh. “And what do I get if I make you come just from rubbing your clit?”

“Anything,” she panted, feeling her release closing in on her and wanting it desperately. “God, Remus! Anything you want.”

“You know what I want,” he whispered, and just the thought of what she knew he wanted sent her over the edge. Her legs stiffened, her fingers clenched in his hair and she arched her back, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from wailing her pleasure as her climax washed through her. Remus never stopped stroking her, playing her through her orgasm, extending it until her hips jolted and twisted and she cried out, clapping her own hand over his to get him to stop.

“Enough,” she panted, her internal muscles still spasming with the backwash of pleasure. “God—enough.”

Remus leaned forward and kissed the back of her hand, then stood up. Even through his heavy corduroys she could see his stiff cock straining against the seam, and even weak from her orgasm, the sight of it made her stomach shiver with arousal.

“Turn around,” Remus told her as he unfastened his trousers and reached into his pants to pull out his swollen cock. She groaned when she saw it, thick and gorgeous and just as hungry as she had been. “Go on,” Remus urged her when she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off his prick. Hermione still hesitated. She wanted to touch it, wanted to take it in her mouth and feel the silky head slide over her tongue. She wanted to kneel before Remus, run her hands over his muscled thighs, grip his arse as she sucked and swallowed him. She wanted to feel his hands twisting in her hair, and look up to see his mouth open and his eyes rolling back in pleasure.

Remus must have guessed what she was thinking, because he gave her a brief smile and said “We haven’t time.” He tugged at her shoulder until she turned around, spreading her legs as she lifted her skirt over her rump. “Bend over,” he told her, his voice sounding tight and breathless with desire, and Hermione bent lower, bracing her hands against the wall and arched her back to thrust her rump toward him.

“Merlin, but you’re beautiful,” Remus murmured, running one hand over her arse. Hermione was sure he was stroking his cock with the other and wished she could turn around to see it. His hand slid down the back of her thigh, his fingers once again dipping into her cunt before moving up into her cleft to massage her tight hole.

“Has he ever had you here?” Remus whispered, and even though he sounded casual, Hermione could tell that it mattered to him.

“Ron?” she almost laughed, pushing back against his hand. “Use the tradesman’s entrance? He’d never even think of such a thing.” She paused, then added in a softer voice, “That’s yours, Remus. Only yours.”

It must have been the right thing to say because she heard his breathing deepen and get louder, and then, without saying anything else, he was right behind her, holding her by the hips and sliding his big cock along her cleft. With a small grunt, he backed up a little, and she inhaled sharply when she felt the smooth head teasing her flesh, rubbing over her labia, even nudging at her clit. She braced herself when she felt Remus’ finger’s tighten on her, and then he was sinking slowly into her cunt.

“God, Remus,” she moaned as his cock stretched her, and she shifted her stance to accommodate him. “That’s good—so good.”

Remus didn’t answer her, but simply gave her a few slow thrusts, then withdrew, sliding his prick up her cleft to press the dripping head against her arse.

“Mine,” she heard him growl just under his breath right before he pushed into her.

“Fuck!” she gasped, hands flat against the wall, pushing back as Remus’ worked his big cock into her. The stretch of him sinking inside her, the sensation of being filled to the limit was incredible, but even more so was feeling Remus’ fingers shaking as he gripped her arse, hearing his short, sharp breaths as he pushed his prick in inch by inch.

“Merlin,” he panted when she could feel his balls pressed up against her cunt, feel the full length of his cock impaling her arse. “So good,” he murmured, draping himself over her back until she could feel his sandpaper cheek along her spine. Hermione moaned and shifted her hips, locking her knees to support the extra weight of him on her back, and just as she was about to lift her head and demand that he start fucking her, he did. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she felt his hips pull back, felt a whole new burn as his cock slid out of her, and then pushed back in.

“Fuck,” she whispered, letting her head fall forward and arching her back because the feel of his cock inside of her arse was doing strange things to her body. It made her stomach twist and her nipples tighten and her cunt start dripping all over again. It hurt because every thrust of his cock burned and forced her muscles apart, and yet every thrust was delicious – deeper and somehow more intimate than fucking any other way. It felt like Remus was stabbing to her very center. It felt like he owned her – like his cock pumping slowly in and out of her arse was a mark of possession – and it frightened her a little to realize how much she liked that feeling.

“Hermione,” Remus groaned against her back, his arms tightening around her as his hips speeded up.

“Do it, Remus,” she urged, pushing back into his thrusts. “Fuck me—fuck me hard. God! Yes, like that!”

Remus growled when he heard her, and it raised the hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck, because this growl didn’t sound like Remus – it sounded like the wolf inside of him. It was a wild, ruthless sound, and wild and ruthless was how he fucked her, his teeth on her shoulder blade, his hips slamming into her so hard and fast that she was hard put to keep her head from smacking into the wall; and she didn’t care, because it was incredible. And when Remus moved one of his hands between her legs and began playing with her, teasing her clit and sinking his fingers into her cunt as he fucked her, it went beyond anything she’d ever felt.

Another orgasm lashed through her before she could even cry out, and every muscle in her cunt and arse clenched tight as the spasms rocked her. The sound of blood rushing in her head nearly deafened her, but she still heard Remus’ desperate gasp, felt him slam into her again and again, then freeze and shudder against her, whimpering as he buried his face against her back.

The two of them crouched there, panting and trying to get their breath, Hermione nearly bent in half and Remus bent over her. She could feel his prick starting to soften inside her, feel his come seeping out and running down, but she still felt a pang of regret when Remus straightened and carefully pulled out of her. Neither said anything as he helped her up, as they brushed each other off, and as they rifled their coats for their wands and cast various cleaning and freshening spells. When Remus tried to cast one that would remove his semen from inside of her, however, she stopped him.

“Don’t,” she told him. “I like it. I like part of you still being inside me.”

“All right,” Remus said after a moment, then nodded and put away his wand. “Just be careful.” He helped her back into her coat, then picked her scarf up off the floor, shook it out and wrapped it back around her.

“You go back first,” she told him. “You just went out for a smoke, after all. I went for a walk.”

“Right then,” Remus said, brushing some remaining dirt from his coat. He glanced at the door, then turned back to Hermione, lifted her chin and leaned down to give her a soft kiss. She closed her eyes for it, and when she opened them, he was still gazing at her, and it still gave her a warm, liquid feeling inside. “Ten minutes?” Remus asked.

“Ten minutes,” she agreed, then watched as Remus poked his head out the door, looked around and then left. Hermione fastened up her coat, stuck her hands in her pockets and simply leaned against the wall of the shed, closing her eyes and remembering the feeling of Remus coming inside of her. When a bit more than ten minutes had passed, she left the shed and closed the door behind her.

Outside, the wind had sharpened, and when she came back through the kitchen door, her face was tingling and her breath was still misting, even as she closed the door and pulled off her coat.

“There you are,” Mrs. Weasley called out when she saw her. She had a handful of silver serving implements in her hand, and an iced and decorated Christmas cake was floating on a plate beside her. “I was just about to see if anyone wanted tea and cake yet. Would you like some, dear?”

“Oh, no thank you,” Hermione smiled serenely at her mother-in-law. “I’m not at all hungry just now. In fact,” she added, her smile deepening. “I feel quite full.”

“Well, perhaps you’ll want a little something later,” Mrs. Weasley said brightly, waving the cake ahead of her as she headed back to the party.

“Oh yes,” Hermione agreed, following her mother in law out. “I’m quite sure I will.”


FIN