Title: Lone Wolf
Author: lunalovepotter
Characters/Pairing(s): Remus/Hermione; mentions of past Remus/Tonks, and Hermione/Ron
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Chosen: Agrexophilia, Podophilia
Other Warnings: Just in case, this is non-Epilogue compliant with mention of a major character death (although it is offscreen). Also a great deal of (messy) masturbation.
Word Count: ~ 3,079
Summary: They each felt as though they were alone in the world. An unexpected nocturnal encounter tells them otherwise.
Author Notes: This is my first stab at Remus/Hermione. Thanks to rivertempest for brainstorming help, and to the two lovely betas who rescued me at the last minute. A big thank you to ragdoll for allowing me the extra day to make this presentable.



In the days leading up to the full moon, Remus walked the halls of Grimmauld Place at night alone. He'd always had trouble sleeping, his mind a mess of conflicted, troubling thoughts that were like a constant buzz of noise in his head. Most of his nights were spent reading, or listening to music, or simply lying in bed staring out the window and waiting for the sun to come up while memories of his past life haunted him. Daylight made it easier to camouflage his feelings, with the bustle of life around him. In the sunlight, it was easier to temporarily forget about the crippling losses he had suffered and ignore that low persistent ache in his chest. Of course there were sleeping draughts that would knock him out cold, which the lovely and well-meaning Hermione offered to administer to him in carefully measured dosages (since losing Ron so tragically right at the start of their romance, she had become more nurturing, the simple need to be needed showing clearly in her eyes). The idea of sleeping like the dead did have its appeal, but he owed it to Dora, and to little Teddy, to at least try to live a decent life without them to ensure their sacrifice was not in vain. In his weakened emotional state, he worried that even with Hermione's help he would rely on the draughts too much, that the urge to escape his life would be too much to overcome even for his family. So he abstained. Instead he would prowl, barefoot and silent, along the hardwood floors; he knew exactly where to set his foot and exactly the right pressure to avoid making noise. He knew it without even being aware of it.

Usually the old house was quiet, with little more than the steady ticking of the hall clock and the occasional creaking of the eaves. The walls were bathed in shadows, the only light residual rays from the moon. Harry had once been a night owl, like him, in the early days after the war. They'd been like kindred spirits, nursing their battle scars - both literal and figurative. Without Ron, Harry had been utterly lost, awash in guilt and grief. He had pushed everyone away, even Hermione who had perhaps needed him the most. In response she had gone off to Australia for a few months to find her parents, restore their memories, and maybe some sense of self in the process. Harry had then turned to Remus for guidance and support, both of them wandering through life aimlessly without their anchors, incapable of enjoying anything. But then Ginny had come back with a vengeance, breaking through Harry's wall with her tenacity and refusing to take no for an answer. Harry was alive again, open to new possibilities and, of course, to love. He spent almost every free moment with Ginny now when he wasn't involved in the Auror training program. Remus would never begrudge Harry his happiness after all he had been through in his young life, although seeing the contentment in the boy's eyes sometimes made his chest tighten. A low growl rumbled in his throat as the spectres of Dora and Teddy hovered in his mind. Where was his contentment now? Where was his second chance?

So he walked, shirtless, with his cotton pyjama bottoms hanging low on his hips, at one o'clock in the morning. It was late summer, and the air was comfortable, if a bit on the warm side. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the silence envelop him. Then he took a deep breath and was about to turn on his heel and walk back the other way toward his room at the other end of the hall when he heard the sound. It was very subtle and muffled and would otherwise have gone unnoticed by anyone not so attuned to their surroundings. Remus froze, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. His hands clenched into fists and, strangely, his cock twitched. The sound came again; a low, silky moan. It didn't sound distressed or hurried. But there was a hint of impatience to it. It was also undeniably female.

Hermione.

It couldn't possibly be that he was hearing what he thought he was hearing. Hermione had been back from Australia for almost two months now, working long hours at the Ministry for Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She'd taken one of the many spare bedrooms at Grimmauld Place because she wasn't ready to live alone and needed familiarity around her. She hadn't admitted as much, but Remus understood. That was the same reason he'd come knocking on Harry's door after the war. Hermione was a workaholic, choosing to fill her time at work or at the library. She never dated, nor did she show any interest in the possibility of it. It was only due to an insurmountable amount of persuasion from Molly Weasley that she'd even agreed to start attending the monthly Weasley family dinners again, although Remus could tell it made her uncomfortable and sad to be around Ron's family, as much as they loved her and she them. But once Molly Weasley made a request, one was hard-pressed to refuse her. Family was more important than ever to her now since she had lost two sons in the war. She would not be denied.

Remus inched closer to the door. His heart was thumping in his chest, and his throat was constricted. His fingers slowly uncurled. He heard another moan, followed by a series of short, staccato breaths. With his ear pressed a hair's breadth from the door, Remus held his breath and waited. Then he heard her voice, breathy and satisfied. "Oh yes…yes…Mmm…"

Suddenly his face was hot. His cock was hard as a rock tenting his pyjamas, and tugging his groin urgently. Unbidden came images of Hermione sprawled naked on her bed with her legs spread, her wild curly hair splashed across the pillows and her small, round breasts standing at attention while her hand toyed with the thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. Juices spilling down the inside of her legs. Her mouth contorted into a soft "o" shape. The image was so vivid, he swore he could smell her. He hadn't been this turned on in over a year, not since that last night he'd spent with Dora engaged in feverish, urgent sex just before they'd gone off to battle. They'd fought about her decision to leave Teddy, which Remus had known was a losing argument to begin with. Dora had been a born fighter who'd always stood up for what she believed in - it was one of the aspects of her personality that he loved the most. They'd wound up in bed fucking like animals for hours, thighs slapping together. He'd yelled at her, insisting Teddy would be safer with his mother. But as it had turned out, it hadn't mattered. No one was safe from Voldemort's minions.

The sharp tug on his groin returned him to his senses. He was bewildered at first, wondering how he could still have an erection even as he was thinking about his dead wife and son. For an instant he was ashamed, and his erection began to wilt. Then the moaning started again, low and feminine. The effect was like warm water trickling down his spine. Without a second thought, Remus pushed down the waistband of his pyjama bottoms and grabbed his cock. Cradling his balls in his left hand, he leaned against the wall and slowly began stroking the shaft with his right, applying gentle pressure as he went. The louder Hermione moaned, the stronger he squeezed. He sucked in his breath as the pressure increased, filling and stretching his groin. He knew there was a good chance she could come to the door and catch him, but his body was so consumed with lust that he didn't care. He couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to. It felt too good. This was a year's worth of suppressed sexuality coming to the surface; he almost wanted her to catch him. The thought of it made him unbearably hot. He arched his head back, slid his hand swiftly up to the head of his cock, squeezed the head and then let go, spilling his come all over the floor. A low, throaty growl escaped his lips.

With weakened knees, he sank down against the wall. He was quiet now, waiting for the sound of footsteps that would lead to his discovery. But none came. The stillness once again settled over the house, and it was as though nothing had changed. He sat for several minutes, waiting for his heart rate to slow while still cradling his limp cock and absently tracing his thumb along the tip. With his sensitized hearing, he caught the sound of Hermione's steady breathing with the slight hint of a snore. He vaguely wondered if she did this every night to help her sleep. He also wondered what she thought about as she did it. Steadying himself, Remus stood up, performed a Cleaning Charm on the floor and on himself, redressed and moved quietly back to his room.

"Thank you, Hermione," he whispered, casting a glance toward her room as he closed the door. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

* * *

For the next three nights, Remus walked the halls at the same time. Every night at just past one o'clock, he would hear the low, breathy moans from Hermione's bedroom. He would position himself by her door and pull out his aching cock to satisfy the need while he pictured her touching herself. He started to look forward to it in a sad, pathetic way. It was the first thing he had been excited about in a very long time. With each passing night he felt more alive, more optimistic, and more…human.

On the fourth night he passed her door a few minutes before one o'clock and was startled to hear that the moans had already begun. From the sound of it, she was well on her way to climax, her moans coming in fast, short bursts. She didn't even seem to be trying to suppress the noise as she had on previous nights. He imagined her thighs tightening, her bum raised off the bed as she thrust her long slender fingers in and out of her pussy. His heart rate quickened, and he shoved down his pyjama bottoms. He imagined her watching him come, and then coming herself while he watched.

His cock was hard in a matter of seconds. He held his balls and grabbed the shaft with his other hand, his head arched back as he thrust his cock between his curled fingers. Hermione's moans seemed to grow louder in his ears, consuming him, right along with the swirling heat and spiralling colours that dotted his vision. He could even hear the bed squeaking under her thrusting hips as though she were right next to him.

"Oh. Fuck. Oh. Yesss…." he hissed, and his hips jerked, spilling forth a fountain of come. For a long moment he kept his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing and his heart rate slowed.

"Remus."

At first he thought the voice was in his head. Then he realized he wasn't dreaming. His eyes had opened, and Hermione was standing in the doorway with a soft halo of light behind her. She had on a dark blue silk dressing gown, but it wasn't cinched. It hung delicately off her shoulders, exposing the inside curves of her modest breasts and the most tantalizing sliver of unruly dark hair between her thighs. She had a smooth, flat belly and an inverted navel. For an instant, he imagined that navel adorned with a small gold stud, like Dora's. Her hair was wild, the curls amassed around her face. Her eyelids were heavy, yet there was also an expression of interest in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and he sensed it wasn't from embarrassment. She smelled like a combination of sex and a floral perfume.

"Hermione -- I…I'm so sorry," he sputtered. But he really wasn't sorry. His cock began to stiffen. Hermione's eyes drifted down to his groin area, and the faintest flicker of a smile crossed her lips. She stepped back into the room, and he felt a sting of disappointment at the thought that she was going to shut the door on him. Instead she shrugged her shoulders and the dressing gown slipped down her arms, pooling on the floor at her feet. She held out her arm, palm turned upward, and beckoned to him with her fingers.

"Come in," she said. Cock still in hand, Remus followed her, stumbling for a moment on his weakened knees. Uncharacteristically forward, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, pushing shut the door with her foot. She guided him to the four-poster canopy bed, still impeccably made other than a few telltale wrinkles in the centre of the bedspread. "Let me help you," she said in the same soft voice she'd used before, when she'd first offered to administer the sleeping draught. The need in her eyes was almost palpable. Her nipples tightened and hardened into dark red pebbles that reminded him of cherry sweets. Her hand drifted absently to her pussy, fondling her hair. She peeled open her lips for a split second, allowing him a peek at her swollen clit.

Unable to speak, Remus just nodded his assent. His cock was twitching in his hand. At her instruction, he climbed onto the bed and positioned himself against the pillows with his head resting on the headboard. He spread his legs and dropped his arms down at his sides. Hermione was speaking to him in that soft voice as she got onto the bed after him and lay on her back. One arm draped across her breasts, and she slowly fondled and tugged her nipples. Her other arm remained at her side, her hand curling into the bedspread. She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, kneading it with her teeth. It was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. His cock hardened, but at her instruction he didn't touch it. Gathering folds of the bedspread in his hands, he focused on her pussy, imagining the taste of her on his tongue.

Hermione then slid her feet along the length of his inner thighs, slowly stroking him while murmuring quiet unintelligible words under her breath. A low moan escaped her throat. Remus swallowed, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. The pressure built in his groin, pulsing and hot. He groaned from deep in his chest. Hermione's delicate feet moved further up his thighs, stroking and tickling with remarkable dexterity that made him wonder if she was really as virginal as she wanted everyone to think. Then she slid her long toes along the length of his erection, and the effect was instantaneous.

"Holy fuck!!" The come shot out of him, spilling all over the bed, and onto her ankles and feet. His body trembled and felt chilled from the sheer force of it. When he regained his composure his first instinct was to apologize for making a mess of her bedspread, and the words were on the tip of his tongue when Hermione sat up, propping herself up on her elbows, and smiled gently at him. Her eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and Remus knew exactly why she did this every night…to feel alive, to forget everything she'd lost just for a little while. For her, the night was her camouflage. He wanted to hold her and tell her it would be all right, that he understood. But he knew that wasn't what she needed.

"Let me help you," he said, his voice husky and tentative. He slowly reached for her ankles, curling his fingers around them. It didn't even matter to him that they were slick with his come. Apprehension fleetingly crossed Hermione's face and he almost let go of her, but then she relaxed. Her tongue darted out, sweeping slowly across her lower lip. She watched him closely, and he was careful as he opened her legs. With his right foot, he traced his toes along the inside of her thigh. Her skin felt smooth and warm. The scent of her floral perfume was more pronounced, even with the heavy scent of sex in the air. She shuddered slightly, and he felt her lower body tense just a little bit in preparation for what she knew was coming.

He touched her pussy delicately at first, pressing the pad of his foot into her mound and slowly rolling up. She sucked in her breath and grabbed the bedspread. Her hips arched off the bed. He removed his foot and repeated the motion again, only this time he pressed a little harder and held it a few seconds longer before he rolled up. She made a high-pitched squealing sound, clenching her teeth. Then with only his big toe, he found her clit and applied pressure, making small, fast circles before he pushed down hard. He felt her release like a wave of warm water. Her juices flowed onto his foot and ankle as she screamed, her body convulsing so much at first he was alarmed. Then she stilled, her breathing erratic. After a long moment she sat up on wobbly arms and looked at him as though she was going to speak. But then she got on all fours, her breasts bobbing, and bent her head over his foot. He watched enthralled as her mouth made the soft "o" shape he'd previously imagined, and she wrapped her lips around the first two toes of his right foot. She sucked in her breath, and he felt the quick flicker of her tongue as she tasted herself. A little smile showed on her face. She liked it.

His cock sprang to attention like a flagpole between his legs. Arousal pulsed through him. Hermione raised her head, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes that were no longer full of tears. "Thank you," she said. Remus couldn't help himself - his hips jerked, and with a long triumphant howl, he came.