wl_mods (wl_mods) wrote in wizard_love, @ 2010-03-01 23:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | *fic, 2010, hermione, remus |
Special Delivery for da_angel729
Title: Seize the Moment
Author/Artist:
Recipient's LJ name: da_angel729
Pairing(s): Remus/Hermione.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 6,603
Warnings: AU in that Remus has survived the war and never got involved with Tonks, scenes of explicit sexual nature, very light bondage, slight angst, voyeurism.
Summary Hermione has had a crush on Remus for a while, but eventually she realizes that if she wants something, she needs to learn how to go after it.
Author's/Artist's notes: After-war angst was requested, which I managed to sprinkle here and there, as well as strong female characters who go after what they want, forceful seduction, light bondage, wall sex, outdoor or semi-public sex, and voyeurism. I tried to hit them all, and hopefully succeeded. I hope you enjoy this, dear author, and this works for you. It was very fun to write.
I've been watching him for months now, though if I'm really honest with myself, I've probably been watching him for years. I was a kid once, and he was a professor, and back then that fact registered so clearly in my perfectly logical mind that I probably convinced myself that what I felt towards him was simple admiration and respect. I can't really say that's not how it was, it's been many years, but for some reason I prefer to think I've always known I wanted him, and who can tell now?
After the war, everyone expected chaos, but what really happened was silence. Not the kind of silence you rest and recollect your thoughts in, but the kind the weight of which you shrink under. The question of What now? hung heavy in the air. The glory was divided, the dead buried, but the wounds were still there. Both parties and more sombre gatherings were all done, and now people were left alone with themselves to deal with the aftermath of war while still going ahead with their lives. Nobody had planned that far ahead.
It took me a while to realize that when I kissed Ron right before the battle, I was really kissing him goodbye. To admit it to myself back then would be suicide, but I know now that I didn't expect to survive. Voldemort was after Harry, and I was too close to Harry. He had to survive and Ron and I had to make sure he did. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't really matter if we lived or died, as long as Harry lived. As even then only until he defeated Voldemort. Many would grieve if he didn't make it, sure, but the happiness of peace, finally, would dull the pain of loss only too soon.
There were a few of us who found ourselves floundering, unsure of where to go after the war. Grimmauld Place became a haven of a sort. The Weasleys' seemed the right place to go, at first, but that family needed each other and needed time. Fred's death affected them so much that even Molly wasn't her usual motherly self, making sure everyone had a place to go and someone or somewhere to draw comfort from. We were left to each fend for ourselves. Of course, the invitation to the Burrow was implicit, especially in the case of the Order, but we all knew this wasn't the time to flood the house with people.
There would be times to surround ourselves with as many loved ones as possible and share memories, but that time wouldn't come for a while. What everyone needed after the war was a short separation. We haven't thought for one, all of us, for a very long time. I know I got so used to always thinking for three it took me a long time to learn to look at things differently. It wasn't Harry, Ron and Hermione anymore. We were our own people now, though we would always share that bond, be best friends, remain in each other's lives.
Somehow, Remus and I, along with a few others, both ended up at Grimmauld. Remus had no home to begin with, and it was hardly time to start looking into real estate, and I just needed a place to think of as "home", even if for a month, before I went back to Hogwarts to finish my education. A year later, I found myself here, with my N.E.W.T.s, my parents still in Australia, and the house deserted safe for Remus, who had made it his home.
I know I have to find my own flat, start a job and a purpose like everyone else had managed to while I was in limbo at Hogwarts, drawing all the comfort it still provided with its shaken walls and bloodied grounds. There are multiple positions at the Ministry that are waiting for me, were I to take them. Everyone deals with things differently. I was expected to dive head-first into work, lose myself in it like I've always done, and continue doing so while my wounds healed of negligence, but when I sat in a compartment alone, aboard the Hogwarts Express for the last time, I made a decision that surprised even me. I've decided to take a year and do something I've never done – nothing.
Harry left almost immediately, and the official story is that he's "travelling". Ron and I know that he isn't moving at all. He's in England, somewhere even we can't visit without his prearrangements. Somewhere where there is peace and quiet. Some worry that he is running, but I know he's not. I trust Harry to know what he needs and to ask for it when he needs it, whatever it may be. Unlike the rest of the wizarding world, I worry for Harry least of all.
Grimmauld Place became known as simply "Remus's" by Christmas of my seventh year, when Neville had moved out. Harry wouldn't come back to live at this place, not ever, and I know deep inside we all would like to think that there will never again in our lifetimes be a need for a "safe house" or a "hide-out". Remus seems to have taken a liking to the place, and as someone had to have it, and Remus seemed to be the only one in need of a home, Harry happily signed over the papers.
I wasn't out of sight out of mind, but I suppose most have assumed I've made plans for my return from Hogwarts. Of all people, I was expected to think ahead. But I didn't and somehow, inexplicably, Remus had foreseen that. When I had left for Hogwarts, I called Grimmauld Place home, and unassuming Remus considered it my home too, no matter what the official documents now stated, until I would say otherwise. I dropped by Grimmauld to pick up a few things I've left there, knocking at the door instead of letting myself in with the key I still had, and was shocked that aside from the extensive renovations that had been done on the house, and that made it look like a home as opposed to a hole in the wall, I had a fully furnished room that Remus had immediately taken me to. He pointed towards the bookshelves that lined most walls, the large bed, the fireplace, and I realized that he had intended me to actually make this a permanent residence.
I now think that it's that night that first made me realize that something is off with the way I usually feel when I'm around Remus. Dressed well, filled out in a healthy way, and actually kind of well-defined, too, was not the way I was used to seeing him when I saw him for the first time upon my return. His scars were paler and less noticeable, just as Molly has been saying for years they would be if he ever bothered to charm them. But it's not just the way he looks. It's the way it feels to be with him that night as we sip tea until wee hours of the morning and discuss our lives. In our house, our kitchen. It sounded and felt right. It still does. That night made me realize that we're both adults now, both equal. Perhaps I only let myself admit my attraction to him then because for the first time, nothing could be found to hint that it's wrong in any way, or inappropriate.
The last five months have only solidified that thought in my mind.
I look up when Remus enters the kitchen. He's wearing nothing but trousers, and his hair is wet, streaks of water still running down his chest. His eyes widen when he sees me. I'm not supposed to be back for another four hours, after all, from what I've told him. I suddenly feel very bad for interrupting his planned solitude. We've lived together for a few months now, and we get on great, but it almost seems to me that the comfort level of a friend and a roommate is not quite there. For one, he often still calls me Mrs Granger, as if on purpose. It seems strange to me because even in our school days he seldom used such a formality. And, of course, there is a sense of propriety to Remus that's typical of him. He doesn't walk around just in his trousers when he knows I'm home. I think it's because he doesn't want to make me uncomfortable, and I doubt he knows what it does to me when I do happen to catch him in less than his usual multiple layers of clothing. Or that as far as I'm concerned, the less he's wearing the better.
He smiles and throws himself into a chair across from me. He's at his happiest and most energetic in the middle of the month. Enough time has passed for him to get over the full moon, and it's not close enough to the next one yet.
"Your dress robes have are laid out on your bed, Master," Kreacher mumbles as he peeks into the kitchen. I don't think it's easy on Kreacher to get attached to his "masters", as hard as it seems to be for him, to have them continuously switched. I'm assured that magical binds aside, he would always consider Harry his one and only.
"Your dress robes have are laid out on your bed, Master," Kreacher mumbles as he peeks into the kitchen. I don't think it's easy on Kreacher to get attached to his "masters", as hard as it seems to be for him, to have them continuously switched. I'm assured that magical binds aside, he would always consider Harry his one and only. He gives me a look and I could swear he gives me something akin to a smile before he stalks off.
I look back at Remus, telling myself repeatedly to keep my eyes on his face. Of course, once I start concentrating on that, I tense up, staring too intently, I know, my eyes twitching from the effort not to look down.
"Dress robes?" I ask casually. "Got a hot date tonight?"
Remus blushes and I curse myself inwardly. At least to me, the question sounds more loaded than joking or cute. Since I've gotten back from Hogwarts, I've made my best efforts to inconspicuously find out whether Remus is seeing anyone. My common sense tells me he must be, and my paranoia insists that even if he's not at the moment, he will start sooner or later. I know about his insecurities and doubts, but looking at him, he seems a loner by circumstance and not by choice. He is a born husband and a born father, and while at my age I'm not necessarily thinking of marriage and kids, I suspect that he may be.
He has free access to Wolfsbane and no longer has to worry about his lycanthropy standing in the way. Probably everyone in England knows the name Remus Lupin, and that he's a werewolf. I know people's minds don't change overnight, and prejudices take a long time to vanish completely, but for some reason I find it hard to believe that Remus would have a hard time finding a lovely woman who wouldn't care. I don't know how I know, but I think he's more open to the possibility now than he's ever been. He laughs when Molly reminds him pointedly about the importance of a family of your own, instead of giving a half-smile and getting a sad far-off look in his eyes like he used to. I know I shouldn't be wishing that his healing process receives any hindrances, but I must admit it almost hurts to even think about Remus happy with someone else.
Remus chuckles and raises his eyebrows at me mockingly. "Date? Me?" Then his eyes narrow playfully. "Well, yes, actually, there is a Ministry Ball I was told I practically had to attend tomorrow night, and I am going there with a young lady."
I try to look blank, though I don't know how well I pull it off. "Oh, really? Who?"
"You."
I look up at him, my eyes wide. He gauges my expression and his smile vanishes suddenly. I am surprised to see he's looking sheepish and ashamed.
"I... I didn't mean to..." He rubs his eyes, sighing. "That was stupid. I just meant that we live together, and I know you'd be attending, so I made a joke because I just assumed we can leave here together. Which, of course, is a stupid assumption, since why wouldn't you go with someone else as opposed to accompanying me, of all people? I'm sure you have blokes lining up to take you to a high-profile event like that."
I can't help but smile. "No. I'm going alone." I stare at him for a moment, but he nods awkwardly and doesn't say anything else. “So we can leave together,” I add.
He smiles at me in an unreadable way. He betrays nothing. He absent-mindedly runs his palm up and down his chest, staring out of the window, and I allow myself a long look, memorizing his scars. I imagine running my fingers, my lips, my tongue, over them, and close my eyes quickly, shaking my head. These thoughts are not helping.
“I’ll see you a little later, Hermione,” Remus says quietly, and slips out of the kitchen.
I continue to sit with my eyes closed. I probably look like I’m dozing to an outsider, but I’m not. I’m planning.