A/N: My next Remus Smutshot! For those of you who missed it, my last one was Lucy Weasley. This is Marietta Edgecomb, of course. Sorry, Remus had a lot of students. I'll try to make this interesting and different. Hope you enjoy!
-C
He stirred his tea thoughtfully, trying to recall why her name was so familiar.
Obviously he'd taught her, years ago, but there was something else, something significant.
Marietta. Marietta Edgecombe.
She'd not joined the Order when she left school. That was for certain. Some of the older students he'd had, like the Weasley twins and a couple of their friends (Lee Jordan came to mind), had joined the fight.
But the name was still feeling familiar as it bounced around his brain, so he sat down, trying to remember as she kissed him.
How had he gotten into this situation?
He could have blamed it on the firewhiskey, but he knew deep down that he'd wanted to run his fingers through her curls from the moment he first started watching her at the bar. It had taken weeks to drink up the courage to talk to her, two months before they started spending time outside of that smoky, dingy place, and a full year before he started taking her to bed.
But it had taken a year and a day for him to learn her name, when he woke up the morning after to realize that he'd not actually ever asked her name, just knew she was a former student. She probably had assumed he'd known it, just as she'd known his.
But he was a war hero.
He was a professor.
There were so many reasons she could have remembered his name.
He'd gone through her purse to find identification while she was in the shower.
Marietta Edgecombe.
The shower hadn't lasted as long as he'd expected, and when she came back out to find him awake, she decided she wanted a round two, and who was Remus to deny her when he wanted it too?
She was pushing him down on the bed, straddling him confidently, and he recalled she was a Ravenclaw, older than Harry. She'd not changed too much, except that he thought she'd gotten a bit curvier since her days at Hogwarts.
No complaints about that as she began to bounce on top of him.
Ravenclaw... Ravenclaw...
He'd been paying so much attention to the Gryffindors during that year that he could hardly recall any of the Ravenclaws.
Her low, loud, long moan broke through his consciousness, reminding him why he was feeling the incredible sensations he was feeling, reminding him why he was desperately trying to recall why it was so important that he remember who this girl - no, young woman - was, the one riding him so enthusiastically, the one who's name he only just relearned.
For some reason, there was something to do with the Order. She wasn't in the Order, though. He'd already crossed that off his mental list.
But Remus could hear Kingsley's voice saying her name in conjunction with Harry's, worry in his deep, rumbling tones. There was some reason to remember her, and it wasn't pleasant.
It was pushed from his mind temporarily as he felt the pleasure rushing over his body like a giant wave. He roared and she cried his name and scratched her nails down his chest as she clenched around him and he exploded inside of her.
He shouldn't have done that, but young girls were careful about these things these days.
But he was a war hero, and a lot of young women wouldn't mind trapping him into something, especially now that Hermione had disproven that his condition could be passed through birth.
As Remus came down from his high, he watched her take off for another shower, probably do get their combined sweat off her body before she went off to whatever her job was at the Ministry. He'd never asked, and now he didn't think he wanted to.
Because he'd suddenly remembered why it was he should have known her name: Marietta Edgecombe, the girl who'd turned over Harry's defense group to Umbridge and Fudge, the reason Dumbledore had been a fugitive from the law for months.
With a flick of his wand toward her retreating figure, he took care of contraception, even if she hadn't, and then he waited for the sound of the shower turning on to scramble to get his clothes on and things together. He wasn't leaving anything behind.
He snuck out before the sound of the shower was gone, and he wasn't going to contact her again. Maybe she'd learned her lesson with Hermione's action against her, or maybe she'd matured, but Remus Lupin was not going to take a risk on it. He knew that people didn't tend to change. And he couldn't afford to hope that she had.