[FIC] Remus/Hermione -- I Will Be Loved... (NC-17) Title: I Will Be Loved... Author:thescarletwoman Pairing: Remus/Hermione Rating: NC-17 Summary: Hermione realises that she's been obsessing over a certain someone. But the only place she can ever have him is in her dreams. A/N: Another of my requested fics, this one from sugarjet03. She requested Remus/Hermione and left it up to me. I've known Erin since... like forever on LJ and I had fun writing something for her. *hugs* I hope you like it hon. The opening lyrics are from I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. I had hoped to get this posted a LOT sooner than I did, but between LMoMM and my summer… this is as soon as I could. A HUGE thank you to starrysummer for her awesome (and quick) beta job; I am just teh suck for taking forever to post this. Originally Posted: July 2005
To fondle his skin, to savour his lips To nuzzle his chin, to move with his hips Our words will be soft, as we softly ignite And I will be loved... tonight. -- I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change --</i>
If you asked Hermione Granger when the crush first developed, she couldn't have told you. She didn't know him before her third year at Hogwarts so those years were certainly out. And third year made no sense, for when you were a third year, you were only thirteen years old. At that age, you were thinking about school work and not about a man nearly three times your age. The same was true for fourth year. That left fifth year. Fifth year gave her plenty of time to think and brood about men and the workings of the world.
Of course, fancying someone the way Hermione did was not something that came about in only a year. Feelings these strong defied every law of nature. Then again, laws of nature said that she would have a boyfriend her own age.
She had had suitors... no, boyfriends. That was the word for them. The beginning of her Sixth Year had brought about the great confession of 1996 as Hermione had termed it. The day Harry Potter had professed his undying love for her. She had simply smiled and asked why he hadn't said anything sooner.
Harry had looked shocked and Ron had snorted pumpkin juice out his nose. Not exactly the most romantic way to get a girlfriend.
The loss of her virtue a month later had been more romantic.
It just didn't last. Harry was too... Hermione didn't know what. Just not for her. And there was something about dating Ron... that seemed... well, odd.
Or, at least it did until he asked her out on a date about a month later. So she tried it that for a couple of months and while dating Ron wasn't as bad as Harry it still wasn't great either. They split up with no hard feelings and Hermione once again found herself dateless. Which, timing-wise was just fine.
NEWTs were next month anyway.
But now that summer was here, Hermione found that she was back to thinking about boyfriends, as strange as it sounded even to herself. Of course, she was female and didn't always think about books and studying twenty-four hours a day no matter how much her classmates might claim otherwise.
Stuck at Grimmauld with Harry, Ron and the rest of the Order, she was suddenly forced to spend her days with the object of her obsession. If ever there was a time for one-sided sexual tension, Hermione knew she could have posed as the poster child for it.
"Hermione?"
She glanced up from her book, not even realising anyone had walked into her bedroom. Or, for that matter, that she had left the door open for anyone to come walking in. Hermione cleared her throat, raising her eyes to look into the eyes that belonged to the man she found herself obsessed with. Well, perhaps obsessing with was a poor choice of words.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Everyone else is here. Molly sent me up to collect you for dinner," he gave her a tired smile. "And Hermione, how many times have I told you? I'm not a Professor anymore. You don't have to call me 'Professor' anymore. Remus is fine."
"Yes, Remus," Hermione said, her cheeks colouring slightly as the name still felt foreign on her tongue no matter how many times Remus asked Hermione to call him by his given name.
Remus shook his head, giving up for the time being, and closed the door behind himself as he exited. Hermione let her breath out slowly once she was sure he was out of hearing distance (though, with a werewolf, could you ever really be sure you were safe?) and collapsed back on her bed. This was ridiculous. She was acting like some hormonal teenager who fancied her third year professor. Granted, that was the case, but still... she was Hermione and things like this didn't happen to her.
Suddenly, heading down for supper didn't sound like the best idea in the world. The idea of putting food into her stomach when Remus was around made her insides roll over on themselves. Hermione closed her eyes, rolling onto her side and curled up holding her stomach. That was slightly better.
Imagine. She, Hermione Granger was suddenly being thrown into a tizzy by a werewolf.
Scratch that. He was a tall, fairly handsome, ex-professor who loved reading just about as much as she did (if not more) and who had an absolute passion for learning and teaching.
Some inconsequential things could be over-looked.
~~~~
At some point during the evening, Hermione fell into a deep sleep. She dreamt of a place that was sometime in the future but she recognised everyone around her. Her years at Hogwarts were over and Voldemort had been defeated but not without some casualties. Close friends had been lost to the destruction but in the end the evil had been vanquished once and for all.
Hermione saw herself in the typical American Dream (though why being British she was in one of these houses was beyond her, but as it was a dream she knew not to question it) house: white picket fence, two floors and the stereotypical two point five kids and a dog playing outside in the yard behind the house. Hermione blinked several times, seeing the children out back. Presence of children meant a husband. Well, it didn't have to mean children, of course, but it could if she felt in a romantic mood.
It was a dream. She could feel any way she wanted to and as un-Hermioneish as it was to want the fairytale, she found herself wanting it now. There was no way she was waking up until she saw her husband. Or, at least who her subconscious was trying to shack her up with.
As if on cue, arms slipped around her waist, drawing Hermione back into an embrace. She closed her eyes, trying to draw in a scent. It wasn't one she recognised, which meant both Harry and Ron were out of the running immediately. The mystery man bent down, lightly tugging on her earlobe with his teeth. Hermione sighed, tilting her head, trying to get a glimpse of him.
"PROFESSOR!?"
Remus let go of the lobe with a chuckle. "Come now, Hermione," he said with a laugh, his fingertips playing over her abdomen. "I haven't been your professor for almost ten years now."
"Ri-ight," Hermione said with a shaky laugh. "You just startled me, that's all," she said, trying to cover her mistake.
"I'll remember that then," Remus said, lowering his mouth to nip lightly at the juncture of shoulder and neck, pushing the mop of her hair out of the way, "no more sneaking up on my wife."
Hermione drew in a sharp breath, leaning back against Remus. "D-didn't say that," she murmured under her breath.
Remus turned Hermione around in his arms, casting a cursory glance outside at the children playing outside. A slow smile slid across his face, an idea forming in his head. It didn't take long for the idea to transfer to Hermione. Dream Hermione smiled while the Hermione watching this entire scene outside her body just swallowed. There was no way she was going to witness this.
On the other hand... Hermione found herself turning back towards the scene; her two selves melding together to form one. This just might be her one and only chance to make love to Remus J. Lupin, why waste it by being a prude?
It was almost surreal to feel Remus's hands on her body and yet be able to watch the entire proceedings as if it were some movie to be played out before her. Remus took complete control now, guiding her through the kitchen by lips and hands before he finally lifted her up onto the kitchen table. "Glad you're wearing a skirt," he muttered under his breath, his hands lifting up her shirt to run across the bare skin of her stomach. Her shirt was in the way of her upper body being completely bared to his touch and Remus gave a small growl of impatience as he tugged on her shirt tails.
Hermione leaned into the touch, her mouth opening in a silent moan. Remus raised Hermione's hands above her head, pulling the offending material off. He gently cupped her breasts in his hands, her legs spreading to make more room for him to stand between them.
It seemed wrong to make love on a kitchen table while your kids played outside, but when Remus kissed her, Hermione realised she really didn't care. Besides, this was a dream and the kids weren't real and neither was Remus. Reality didn't matter in a dream.
The hands that Hermione had found herself staring at so often while she was at Grimmauld place were now running over her body and rubbing her nipples through the thin satin of her bra. His thumb and forefinger tweaked one nipple, drawing it to a peak while his mouth and tongue feasted on the other, all the while not removing her bra.
The sensation of Remus's tongue rubbing the satin against her sensitive nipple was almost more than she could bear. She whimpered softly, feeling a wetness grow between her thighs. Remus growled low in the back of his throat. She knew that werewolves had heightened sense of smell, so could he smell her arousal?
She lifted herself up slightly so Remus could remove her knickers. Hermione slid forward, her eager fingers reaching for Remus's trousers. He shook his head, batting her hands away with a smile. Hermione tilted her head to one side, not understanding. She wanted to see him.
Laying a finger to her lips before she could ask any question that may have formulated in her mind, Remus slowly kissed his way down her chest, burying his face between her thighs. His face was hidden by the fabric of her skirt but it didn't take Hermione long to guess what Remus was doing. She let out a low moan when his tongue passed her lips.
Dear Merlin, neither of the boys had ever done this. Hermione shut her eyes tight, holding back on the initial reaction to thrust her hands into Remus's hair and never let go. His lips moved over her clit, sucking and licking as he thrust two fingers into her.
Merlin, if this was what her mind could make up... what would real sex be like with him?
Hermione's orgasm hit hard and never before had she been more thankful to be sitting down. Otherwise, she wasn't sure she would be able to remain standing after what Remus had just done to her. Her attempts to keep her eyes open failed miserably. Eyes closed, Hermione sat on the kitchen table, legs spread around Remus while she attempted to regain control over her breathing.
At long last, she opened her eyes to look at Remus and found him smiling at her. Strangely, she found it was the same look he had given her when he had called her down to supper earlier that night. Hermione sucked in a breath, dream world and reality suddenly clashing together. It couldn't...
His head slipped out from under her skirt and she was barely coherent enough to watch with a sated smile as he removed his trousers and shorts. Of course, seeing Remus's cock was a complete fantasy. She had nothing to base reality on, so her mind simply filled in all the gaps. However, Hermione had to admit that fantasy did look pretty damn good. Her hands trailed over every inch of his chest, hesitating briefly over scars. She glanced up at Remus and when she saw him arch into her touch, she threw caution to the wind and touched the tip of her tongue to a scar that ran lengthwise across his torso. Remus shuddered under the light touch, one hand touching her shoulder, the other trailing along her inner thigh. As if he had touched some magic button, Hermione's legs spread further apart, begging for something.
Remus, Hermione soon found out, was a man who never kept his lovers waiting.
"Pr-- Remus..." Hermione moaned, threading her fingers through his sandy hair.
Hermione slid a hand down his cheek and across his torso, wanting to wrap a hand around his cock. She needed to touch him, wanting to fool her mind that this was real. The cock beneath her hand felt real enough; enough to fool her mind for the time being.
Remus positioned himself, his hands slipping under her bum to lift her up. Hermione hooked her legs around her waist, slowly impaling herself on his cock, moaning as she felt him spread her wider and wider --
The sound of her stomach rumbling jolted Hermione rudely from her dream. She closed her eyes quickly, trying to return to the exact moment when Remus was about to thrust inside her but the only thing she saw when she closed her eyes was darkness. It was the way it always was in dreams... as soon as you got to the good part, something had to wake you up.
And in this case, it was something as stupid as one's stomach grumbling.
Her first fairly erotic dream involving her Defence Professor left Hermione feeling surprisingly empty. The dream had been all to real to be considered truly a dream but a vision wasn't the right phrase, either, as her feelings on Divination were well known. A "woolly discipline" didn't even begin to cover it.
A thin strip of light snaked across the plush carpet of the room, the light from the door providing the only light in the room. It was too dark to see by, yet Hermione didn't find the necessity for light. Turning her head towards the window, she saw there was no light coming in from outside, making the time at least midnight or later. She hadn't meant to fall asleep but when... well, when the dream had come to her, waking up simply wasn't an option.
It wasn't until her stomach rumbled for a second time that Hermione realised just how late the hour truly was. Her watch was on the bedside table and rolling over would require too much effort. It seemed like the dream had sapped all energy from her. With a sigh, Hermione rolled over in bed, debating if it was even worth getting up to search the house for some food. If she got up, she'd have to sneak downstairs, avoid the third step from the bottom as that one squeaked something terrible and hope to Merlin she didn't run into Kreatcher; all in the vain hope she didn't wake Mrs Black.
And of course, make sure she didn't disturb the body next to her.
Hermione's eyes flew open and never before had she moved so quickly to get out of a bed. Her eyes wide, she could barely manage to get a hold of her breathing as she looked at the dark shape in her bed. It certainly wasn't either Harry on Ron -- she had learned what it felt like to wake up next to both of them during her seventh year.
A soft squeak left Hermione's lips as she realised just who was in her bed.
"P-professor...?"
Remus propped himself up on one elbow and Hermione's eyes widened even further to see that he was half-nude. Dreams were one thing but this... this was...
'Hermione. Okay, relax. Calm. Deep breath. You can handle this.'
"I didn't mean to frighten you," Remus said softly. "And I know." He paused, looking up at her. "I can smell it on you, and you can't deny it." Hermione glanced away, feeling her cheeks redden. "So come back here, and we can discuss it in the morning."
Remus extended a hand to Hermione. It seemed surreal that the man she had fancied for so long (and was nearly double her age, no less) was offering his hand and his bed to her but who was she to refuse?
"You mean...?" she asked softly.
Remus simply nodded. "I had the strangest dream tonight..." he replied softly. "Made things a bit clearer."
Suddenly, Divination didn't seem like such a woolly discipline after all.
With a slightly apprehensive smile, Hermione returned to Remus's side, slipping in beside him. His arms wrapped around her and for the first time, she felt safe in the arms of another.
Tonight... they would talk.
A smile flitted across Hermione's face as she slipped into the comfort of Remus's embrace. Maybe they would talk. After that dream, Hermione could think of a great many things they could do rather than talk.