"Remus…" Her voice was soft, hardly audible in the summer evening. She sat in her favorite nook at 12 Grimmauld Place, the little alcove in the library where Remus had watched her sit all summer. The sconces on the walls were all lit up around her, kissing the curls of her hair and brushing against the softness of her cheeks, but for once there was no book open in her lap. Almond eyes took him in as he stalked closer and closer to her, struggling to keep water from forming in his honey colored eyes as he looked down at the young woman before him. She was young, beautiful, and smarter than a whip—and yet she sat coddled up in this house, grieving, mourning, broken by a war she had helped end.
"Hermione?" The sound was rougher than he had wanted it to be, but he couldn't remember the last time he had spoken, just as she couldn't remember the last time she'd heard his voice. She missed it, low and gruff yet still warm and almost soft in its quietness.
She gestured to the seat at the other side of the little window bench. There was no window, of course, but dark woodwork where a window could have been if the wall had been on one of the outside walls of the house. Remus took his seat near her feet, enjoying the way she comfortably allowed him to cradle her small ankles in his hands as he sat her feet in his lap. Months ago she had moved her feet down to the floor to make room, but they'd grown comfortable in their companionship, he felt no embarrassment over running his thumb along the smooth arc of her foot. Perhaps a bit of guilt and shame, but no embarrassment, not when she smiled up at him like that.
She was too young; the words were repeated so often in his mind that they hardly held the same power that they once had when he first started to feel for her. When he first found her hanging outside his room far past midnight with tears rolling down her cheeks and her shaking hands clutched at the sleeves of her sweater desperately, she'd been devastatingly beautiful in her distraught state and for the first time he felt the guilt in the pit of his stomach that he now carried with him on a daily basis. They were friends, she'd called him that one day in the kitchen when he'd made her a mug of tea with the promise of a good talk beside the fire, and now he sat before her wondering what her intentions were. She'd called him a friend weeks ago but her lips had found his mere hours ago, in the sitting room, she'd bombarded him and delighted him but brought back the self-hatred that came only when he thought of his condition, his age, and his desire for his ex-student.
"I'm not a child." Hermione had fixed her gaze on the fleece of her pajama pants, her fingers picked at a loose thread at the side of her knee feigning nonchalance as her heart pounded in her ears. She dared not look up at her old professor, dared not risk seeing the beginning of a lecture form behind his stern eyes.
"Thankfully, I'm fully aware of that." Remus' attempt at bringing humor to the situation was lame even to his own ears but she smiled politely at his effort, "You're one of the most mature people I know, Hermione, I could never mistake you for a child." She nodded in acceptance of his statement and he couldn't miss the smile blush that rose into her cheeks at the sliver of a compliment.
"Do you think of her often?" Hermione hadn't said Tonks' name since the funeral, over a year ago. When Remus noticed he'd nearly brought it up, he'd mistakenly thought she was trying to erase Tonks' existence, and then he realized that the brilliant witch in front of him carried her own share of guilt. When she'd graduated she'd come back to live at 12 Grimmauld with him and Harry and Ginny, who had completely redone all of the house but the library, upon his request, he wondered how long he had before Hermione picked up her things and left.
"Not as much as I should, probably…It used to be every day." It was best to be honest with Hermione, he told himself as he took his turn at avoiding eye contact, his short finger nails had suddenly become incredibly engaging.
"I want you, Remus." The words snapped his eyes up to meet hers where a fire was brewing as she shifted, pulling her feet from his lap so she could kneel on the navy cushion, "I need to know how you feel so I know what to—what to do with myself, I'm…I need to know how you feel about me." Her breath was sweet and warm as she pushed herself closer, his legs moved on their own accord until he sat with his toes on the cool wood of the floor, giving her all the room she needed to set quivering hands upon his shoulders. There was so much more she wanted to say, so much she wanted him to say, that she cut herself off in embarrassment. Where was the articulate woman who discussed Shakespeare and Wilde with him on a nightly basis, did he truly have that power over her?
"I care for you, greatly." His reward was a coy smile as she gazed up at him from below dark eyelashes. The blush upon her cheeks was entrancing and he couldn't keep himself from brushing fingers against the skin to feel the heat beneath the surface.
"Do you want me, Remus?" The feeling of her hand on his thigh was heaven and hell all in one elixir, his body tensed and jolted under her touch and a grin broke out upon soft lips.
"Oh gods, yes!"
He fisted his hands in her soft hair and stole her breath with a kiss. All at once it was gentle and passionate, Remus moved slowly for fear of hurting her in his excitement, but still he delved within her and teased her. Hermione couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move save to rest her hands upon his neck as Remus consumed her. She was devoured and enlightened all at once; Remus' kiss was not those of the shy Victor Krum, the fidgeting Ron Weasley, or the sloppy office mate she found herself stuck with in the Department of Mysteries. Remus kissed like a man after what he wanted and it sparked something within her that she didn't know she contained; she nipped his lips before pecking them softly so she could pull away for air. He beamed uncontrollably at the sight of laughter playing in her delighted eyes, they'd passed propriety minutes ago, but still she moved shyly as she straddled his lap.
"I want you." The repetition was not lost on the professor, the woman was serious.
Hermione had never thought that she would be the one to make the first move in their relationship, but it had been impossible to avoid. The man was too kind, too polite, to assume anything of her intentions. From what she could tell, she had sparked the man's interest in the beginning of the summer, when she'd come home after graduation, but not once did he show any sign of it save for a few lingering glances, a bit of laughter that bellowed over Ron's or Harry's. When he cupped her breasts she wriggled down on his lap, biting her lip in the hopes of containing her excitement. It was not so much an intense sexual excitement that coursed through her, but excitement at the possibilities, excitement that her feelings were reciprocated. He was by far her second favorite professor, not that Professor McGonagall would care to hear she had been thought of during this occurrence, and to know her feelings of respect and attraction were mutual filled her with a thrill she could not contain. Hot lips clasped her neck, found the throbbing pulse beneath her skin and nipped at it, blonde whiskers tickled her skin and she dug her nails into his scalp. It had been so long since she had been with anyone and it was the first time she was with a man. She pulled her pajama bottoms from her body and he flashed a grin that sent heat pooling to her center.
When Remus stood she had to scramble to lock her arms and legs around his body, but then he settled her against the only wall of the room not covered in shelves of books, and pressed a digit within her heat. She writhed and squirmed until he slowed and she had a moment to breathe before she yanked his pants off from his bony hips, leaving a puddle of blue fleece on the ground before he pressed into her. A quick jolt of a nod was the signal that she was good, comfortable, happy to be with him. In a moment of clarity, Remus nearly laughed at their first time together occurring in a library and he wondered if sleeping with her professor in a library satisfied some old kink of hers, he dared not ask until later.
He loved her like a man. Not boy nor beast, but the brilliant wizard he was. Remus brought her to heights she'd never explored and the feeling of his loving face pressed deep against her neck as she came undone around him was nearly as satisfying as the feeling of finally tipping over the edge after he had teased her with a closeness to completion a few times. Coarse fingers caressed her face, soft curls tickled his nose, and they were equally pleased with the small traces of each other that proved just who exactly they were with. Hermione called out his name and bit her nails into his shoulders, amazed at the guttural groan that he released as he snapped his hips a few last times before burying himself into her with a gasp of completion.
They remained in the shadows as they untangled and redressed, with a few waves of his wand Remus had them cleaned and clothed with a nervous smile. Silence crashed onto them and brought a wave of awkwardness that Hermione regretted, she wished she could speak freely and ask him exactly what it meant but she was left wringing her hands as he avoided her eye and tucked his grey shirt into the striped blue pants she'd grown to love over the past few months. The pants were worn and stained, there were even a few holes near the feet, but she loved seeing them on him in the evenings when they sat in the armchairs in front of the fire with books in their laps. Silence wasn't awkward then like it was now; when she had gotten all she'd wanted for the past year and realized she didn't know what steps to take next to ensure she could keep it.
"I don't want this to be it," His words shocked her, he could tell by the widening of her eyes and the gap that appeared between her top and bottom lip that revealed a portion of her front teeth, "I want to make this into something…is that…is that alright, with you?"
"I'd like that."
Thank you for reading, a review would be lovely! I see this as a sort of prologue to a series of installments I'll slowly make. I'm not sure if there will ever be a plot or anything like that but I have a few ideas I'd like to explore eventually. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!