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.
~*~
“I’m going to tell Remus how I feel about him,” I blurt out, and Ginny drops the dress she’s holding up against herself in front of the mirror. The silky material slithers down to the floor. I flinch. The material is a beautiful beige, and the floors in my room have gotten dusty since the last time Kreacher mopped them.
I didn’t expect her to clap and cheer, exactly, but I expected more support than the grave look she’s giving me. She snatches the dress off the floor, tosses it beside me on the bed, and then climbs on to sit beside me, too.
“Are you serious?” she asks, and then, as if in an afterthought, adds, “Are you sure?”
I give her a stern look. It’s not as if I haven’t thought about this more than it’s healthy already.
Ginny sighs and fingers the material of the dress. “I thought you’ve gotten over that. I’m sorry, Hermione, but I stand by my opinion; friends mucking around isn’t a good idea. I mean, you live together. What happens when… I mean, when it’s over?”
I open my mouth to fire off an angry retort at her assumption of my intentions and then realize that the first time I told Ginny about my attraction to Remus, I assured her it was only physical, and have not let her know it was anything but since. I think I wanted to believe it was as simple as that at first, and having Ginny believe that I would never go for it got her off my back with the hundred thousand lectures she would undoubtedly launch into, like she’s preparing to do now.
“Why does it have to be over?” I ask calmly.
Ginny rolls her eyes. “Because you can’t do it forever. One day, the novelty will wear off, one of you will want serious commitment or meet someone where there will be more than just sex, and then what? I don’t know if I would take the risk with anyone I care about that I would all end amicably. Besides, Hermione, Remus respects you too much, I think, and he’s not the type to do something so reckless and that would most certainly endanger your existent relationship.”
I smile. These things are exactly what I need to hear, and I’m thankful she’s here to provide the voice of reason. I need to be scared about losing him to be really sure I want this. That it’s not just a physical thing after all. I am thrilled to see that my determination doesn’t waver. I know if he doesn’t feel the same way, things may get awkward, but I think our friendship is strong enough to survive that if it has to. The alternative to rejection, however, is worth the risk. I get goose bumps just thinking about being his. His girlfriend, his lover, something more than that eventually.
“I suppose I should confess this to you before I go confessing it to him,” I say, and reach for Ginny’s hand. She looks at me with evident concern. “I like him, Ginny. A lot.”
She sighs. “I know, Hermione but even so–”
“No. I like him.” She still looks confused. “I’m in love with him.”
She sits for a moment, as if frozen, her eyes opened wide, and then jumps off the bed and turns to me. “You never told me that!” she practically shrieks at me.
“I’ve never told myself that,” I say, and realize it’s true.
Suddenly, her whole demeanour changes. She smiles and clasps her hands together in front of her, her eyes sparkling excitedly. I’m actually surprised, again, at her reaction. I never expected that much support.
“Thank Merlin, honestly, Hermione!” she says. “You know Mum has been telling everyone who’d listen how the two of you are just perfect for each other, and I think she’s convinced us all by now. But I thought so all along, and you have no idea how upset I got when you first told him you wanted him, but not in that way. Because if you started seeing each other like that, just for the sex, I don’t think there would ever be a chance of a relationship between the two of you.” She nods knowingly. “He is perfect for you!”
I chuckle despite myself. “You said the same thing about Ron, you know.”
She rolls her eyes. “I had to say that, he was my brother and he really fancied you back then. And yes, you would have made a wonderful couple, but all that became moot when you both decided you don’t feel the same way about each other.” She claps her hands and jumps back onto the bed. “So you’re actually going to tell him? Does he feel the same way?”
I frown. She hits the spot with the question I’ve been trying not to dwell on. “I don’t really know. What I do know, though, is if he does fancy me, he would never admit it, or I highly doubt it, anyway. I have to take that chance.”
Ginny is hanging on my every word. She’s always been a fan of romance novels, and I imagine she feels like she’s witnessing one right now. “Have you thought how you were going to do it?”
“Yes. I’m going to speak to him before the benefit. Ask him if he wants to give dating a try. And then, if he does, we can go to the benefit together.” I grin. To myself, at least, the idea sounds very clever.
“That doesn’t sound very romantic,” Ginny says thoughtfully. “You know, the whole discussion thing? It should be in the moment, you know? You should just grab him and kiss him and see if he kisses back.”
I feel myself blush. I get butterflies just thinking of the prospect. “If he doesn’t feel the same way, though, that would be quite intrusive on his personal space, not to mention presumptuous.”
She laughs. “Hermione, this is love we’re talking about, not Runes homework. It doesn’t have to be perfectly planned out or logical.”
I hug my knees and let her tell me of her first kiss with Harry, though I remember perfectly well. I don’t listen, but her presence and her chatter provide emotional support.
I’m nervous, I realize. Yet no matter what Ginny says, I will be calm and logical about this when I do it. Getting as worked up as I’m getting will definitely not help anything.
~*~
I walk with purpose, not letting myself stop even for a second. I know that if I stop my legs will turn right around and fly me in the opposite direction, choosing the easier option. I wish I could do what Ginny had advised and just jump around his neck and not have to say anything, but I’m not entirely sure that Remus is the type for those kinds of confessions. Or maybe I’m not, when not urged by possible death.
I freeze in the middle of the hallway because I hear something that puts me on alert. Old habits sure die hard, and when it comes to caution, I have enough to be a damn good Auror. My ears pick up on the slightest, quietest sounds that I know are unnatural and I reach for my wand, but my hand freezes half-way to my robes.
Remus’s room is just ahead, and the door is cracked open a touch, light pouring out of it into the dim hallway. It’s much later than I know he usually likes to stay up, and definitely later than the latest hour he usually leaves his rooms, but I thought I’d take a chance to see if he is awake. Apparently, once you decide on something like telling the bloke you fancy you fancy him, it feels like it can’t wait another second, forget another day. I don’t want to admit that I would very much like to tell him tonight and take my chances just in case... Well, somehow having a night between a possible “Yes” and tomorrow night’s benefit seems like a mighty good idea.
I know it’s not exactly logical to have my hopes as high as I think I do. I know there is a good chance this will not work out the way I so want it to. Remus has never shown any obvious signs that he may think of me as nothing more than a close friend, but then again, he does seem closer to me than he is to anyone else. That could easily be explained by the fact that we spend so much time together, talking as much as we do, but still, it’s something that makes me feel quite hopeful.
I’m not conceited, but I do know my worth. I’m not bad looking, I’m intelligent, and I know at least he finds me interesting, even when I talk about things that make most others’ eyes roll back into their head.
I know I have to go back even as I continue down the hallway, holding my breath now and stepping lightly and carefully in order to fool the squeaky old floorboards. This is Remus’s part of the house, and though it surprises me slightly that the fact that his door is open contradicts his whole idea of propriety and privacy, there is no reason for me to be here in the first place, and Remus must know that, I have my own loo upstairs, and I’ve been sitting in my room planning for such a long time, he had probably assumed I’ve gone to sleep a long time ago. After all, I am an early riser and usually retire to bed at ten every night.
I’m acutely aware that this does have a good chances of ruining everything irreparably, if I’m discovered. Yet I push forward until I am standing right beside the opened door. Quietly, I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself. I’m going too far, I know. To be discovered out here stalking him would be one thing. I can easily say I was coming to see him, plain and simple, and the fact that the door is opened can hardly be blamed on me. If I’m discovered here spying on him with the full intention of doing so, spells and everything,, that’s another matter entirely.
My mouth falls open when I step into the light, looking into the room. Remus is on the bed, completely nude. The sounds I’ve heard are unmistakeable moans and gasps. I feel a chill run down my back as I lean in involuntarily, licking my lips.
He is stroking himself lazily, more contemplatively, actually, than anything else. His moans are coming through his nose and his eyes are closed. There is a small smile playing on his lips, and I can see he’s somewhere very far away. What I wouldn’t give to know his thoughts. What he thinks about when he does this. Where his mind goes. Who his mind goes to. Whatever he thinks about, it definitely turns him on. The precome flows freely down his cock and then his hand.
I feel a tingle in my stomach, and then lower. I stand as if glued to the spot, my mouth dry, lost in the slow movements of his hand, and his deep, throaty groans that sometimes come out as almost growls.
I startle when he gasps loudly and his hand starts going quicker and quicker, his body finally shooting upwards. His eyes fly open and he breathes heavily, spilling onto his stomach.
I remember to breathe and swallow. Remus closes his eyes and takes even breaths. I can almost hear his heartbeat slowing.
I back away, walking as quickly as I can without making any noise. I feel guilty, but the feeling of my own arousal overcomes that. I suppose I will have to leave my confession until tomorrow but somehow, I don’t feel too sad about that.
~*~
We don't have much time to spend one-on-one before the befit. I don't know where he goes, but he's gone until an hour before we have to leave, and that's as much time as I've planned for myself to get ready. We say a quick hi in the kitchen, and I run to my room, my stomach fluttering a little. It's hard not to imagine last night as I look at his hand grasping the tea-cup. And now that I've seen him naked, it's not as hard for me to imagine him so when I look at him as it was before. In fact, it's as easy as a blink, and all his clothes are gone in an instant. I don't know if I stare, but I think I do, because he squirms self-consciously and gives me a curious look.
I can hardly believe that this event requires ladies to wear actual gowns. I was never a fan of balls and very fancy events. Ginny makes fun of me for it. I understand the appeal, of course. The dressing up like a princess of some sort, the dancing in those fancy clothes until dawn in a darkened room.
I linger for a moment in front of a mirror. I'm surprised to note I actually am excited. The reason is evident, too. I'm going to tell him, I tell myself firmly. "You're going to tell him," I say out loud, just to reinstate it in my mind. "How?" my reflection asks me sternly, always there to provide unwelcome common sense, but I frown and roll my eyes at her. I don’t know why, but I feel like after yesterday, no matter how terrified I feel and how probably unlikely the outcome is going to be, I have to do this. I sat around with Ron for seven years waiting for him to make a move, and I’m not planning on doing that again. The time can be much better spent either getting over him, or... joining him.
I choose the simplest gown I can find. The dress is silk and flowing and a light blue colour. Remus's eye widen when I enter the kitchen. I can't help remarking how handsome he looks in his black dress-robes as he mumbles something that sounds like "beautiful". I smile at him and snake my arm through his.
"You ready?" I beam at him.
He smiles back and tugs on his robes uncomfortably. "Never am." He sighs.
As expected, the ball is incredibly populous and very loud. Almost the moment we enter, we are swept up by different people and separated. I don’t know most of the people who talk at me from all sides, but I smile, nod, and try my best to maintain the conversation. By the time I fulfill all the proper social steps of schmoozing with strangers apparently very high up in the Ministry, having a refreshing chat with Kingsley, having a thousand pictures taken of me, and spending a few minutes with everyone I do know, the dance floor in the middle starts to slowly fill up with couples. The music gets louder and the talking gets quieter. People who are not immediately asked edge towards the walls, leaving enough space for those who wish to dance in the middle.
I’m relieved when for a few minutes, I find myself alone. The lights dim considerably and somehow I feel safer because I know that I’m not as easy to find in the crowd now. I scan the room for Remus. Surprised, I spot him standing by the table lined with champagne flutes, talking to a very pretty woman. I watch with a frown as she leans over, letting her long hair brush over his hand, smiling at him. If there is a right time to intervene, I decide, it’s most definitely now.
I walk across the room and stop right beside them. The woman notices me first, glancing at me nervously. I take a deep breath, smile gracefully, and tap Remus on the shoulder. He turns around and smiles at me.
“How about a dance?” I ask.
He stares at me for a second and then nods and takes my hand. I note with an unfamiliar satisfaction that the woman looks slightly affronted and turns on her heels as Remus leads me to the dance floor.
“My pleasure,” he says, giving me a little bow before placing his hand on my lower back and taking my other hand in a rather old-fashioned dance stance. Our bodies don’t touch and he starts to lead me. He is a surprisingly great dancer, manoeuvring me around the other couples with the grace I never thought he had.
I smile up at him and then, looking down, move my body so I press into him. I can feel stiffen, but he doesn’t remark, continuing to dance and adjusting his hand on my back in order to be able to hold me closer.
What I really want to do is not say anything but just kiss him. I believe it’s the best way to let someone know you fancy them. I know I would prefer to be told something like that in a spontaneous, romantic way like that. Of course, I would only prefer it if someone I actually fancied did that, so I hold myself back. The room is filled with people we both know and, most importantly, photographers. Without knowing how he feels, I cannot put him in a potentially uncomfortable situation.
“Remus, I really fancy you.”
It’s ironic how something you completely don’t see coming can come from your own person without you even realizing it. Remus freezes, causing me to stumble over his feet, but he holds me in an iron grip that steadies me and holds me in place. I stare at him, probably looking as shocked as he is right now. I did not intend to fire it out like that, and while this is certainly spontaneous, it’s not quite what I was aiming for.
I force myself to look up and meet his gaze steadily. His eyes are wide and disbelieving. His lips are forming half a smile, as if he’s not decided whether it is a joke and whether it would be appropriate to laugh it off.
“I fancy you,” I repeat, louder and clearer now, pressing myself against him.
He continues staring, seemingly completely lost for words. With a sigh, I take a step back and grab his arm, pulling him off the dance floor and towards the doors of the hall. It’s much cooler and quieter outside, and I lead him until we’re stop in front of a window some distance away from the music floating out of the mostly-closed doors.
“I’m sorry about that,” I say. “That’s not how I meant that to come out.”
“How... How did you mean it to come out?”
I would find his surprise very endearing if not for the excruciating awareness that he hasn’t yet said anything back.
It may be a little late, and not as romantic or as spontaneous, but I push him into the wall, place my hand on his neck, and press our lips together. When he doesn’t move beneath me, I press into him more insistently and run my tongue over his lower lip before grasping it firmly with my teeth. The sting of my bite seems to jolt him out of his reverie and with a low growl, his lips respond, his arms going around me to bind me to him.
And just like that, we’re kissing. His scent and his warmth is almost overwhelming, and his lips are ruthless and insistent. Just when I think I would be content to stand here kissing him forever, though, he stops and pushes me away gently. His lips look bruised.
“Hermione... We can’t.”
I sigh. I was prepared for this speech as much as I was prepared for the kiss. I always knew it could either way, I just figured the kiss would be for “yes” and the speech would be for “no”. Somehow, I’m ending up having them both, and I don’t think I like that.
I press my fingers to his mouth firmly before he has a chance to say anything else.
“Wait,” I say. My voice is surprisingly calm and steady. “Before we go into all the many reasons I am sure you have as to why we can’t, let me tell you something. I don’t believe you can kiss someone like that and not want them. In fact, you would not kiss me like that unless you wanted me. “So,” I lean close again, my lips inches from his, “let’s pretend we had this conversation and busy ourselves with something more... productive.” I grin mischievously. It’s refreshing to be so without inhibitions with him. I think I’ve been holding it in for too long. “Because you know you will never be able to give me a reason good enough to give up on this before it even has a chance to begin. The only reason you could have given me vanished with that kiss.”
I kiss him again, trying to convey to him with my lips and not words that this is right. We’ve both probably known it for a while now. We fit together perfectly.
There are no more words. I can imagine Remus weighing down all the pros and cons in his mind – we are so alike, after all – but for once, the insecure werewolf inside him that probably thinks he cannot and doesn’t deserve to be loved like this loses. I kiss his neck, making sure to mark him, and then make a trail down to his chest.
I am surprised at how fast my fingers get rid of all the buttons so I can finally brush my lips against his hot skin, tracing the scars I could find with my eyes closed with my lips and my tongue.
“Merlin, Hermione, what are you doing to me?” he growls, and grasps my shoulders to pull me back up, but I grin into his chest, nipping him, and shake my head. The previous night washes over me, the memory so vivid I tingle with anticipation as I sink down on my knees in front of him, kissing his stomach.
As my hands busy themselves with the belt and flies, I look up into his eyes. I know he must be a little taken aback at how fast this is going, and I’m a little surprised too, but tonight is different somehow. My common sense is silent, and I feel thrilled with adrenaline, adventurous, and wanting to do something unexpected and so very much desired.
“Hermione, we’re in public,” Remus gasps out as I run a finger up his shaft through his pants, and then hook my fingers in the waistband. “We’re... This is... I mean...”
“Shhh.” I kiss his stomach gently, freeing his erection. “I want this. Enjoy this. It’s me. It’s us.” I run my hand over his cock, remembering the way he lazily stroked himself. “It’s perfect.”
I am aware we are not far enough from the ballroom to not be noticed if someone were to come out, but that fact actually makes me feel more aroused as I take him into my mouth. I suck in gently, taking in his whole length and the pull back, cupping his balls and giving the head a firm kiss. I haven’t done this before, but he moans and gasps, biting his fist to keep quiet and not succeeding very well. His hands hang limply by his side as he moans and tenses, trying to keep steady against the wall, allowing me to quicken the pace.
I think of him lying naked in his bed. I marvel at the heat of it, the feeling.
“Hermione,” he whispers loudly through loud breaths and I graze my teeth lightly. I can feel him thrusting as lightly as he can manage, and his body start to tremble. I suck on it again and then replace my mouth with my hand, mimicking the jerky movements I remember him making before orgasm.
He comes on the floor as I lean away slightly, stroking him slowly as I can feel his body relax. When I finally let it go, he sinks on his knees in front of me. His eyes are shining as he pulls me to him roughly. He holds my face in both his hands as he kisses every inch of it, finally finding my lips and descending upon them with as little mercy as he had before.
“I want you,” he murmurs, and pulls me up with him, tucking himself away as I straighten out my dress. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go home.”
“Wait.” I place a hand on his shoulder. There is one thing I need to know. I need to hear now that the fog of lust is temporarily suspended. “Remus, I need... I need to know how you feel about me.”
He chuckles but his face becomes solemn when I look up at him imploringly. “I fancy you, Hermione Granger,” he murmurs, brushing a lock of hair out of my face. “It would have felt too fast for me if it wasn’t you. I wouldn’t have gone here with anyone but you. I’ve known this a long time. Longer than I can admit to you.”
I want to laugh and clap, but what I do is pull him into a long kiss before letting him Apparate us home. Our home. The clock in the kitchen says nine in the evening, and the night is only beginning. We are only beginning.
As he leads me without a word towards his bedroom, my hand in his, I grin to myself. I was never one for really seizing the moment, but, I think logically, people can sure change.