A/N: Written for Kat Ducat's I'm Falling in Love... Again Competition as well as AlwaysPadfoot's 52 Weeks of Writing, Week 5. Goodness I love me some challenges and competitions. Enjoy!

Compulsory prompts used: parchment, ink, morbid, 'Mr/Miss -, if you would just get on with your work', tired, endless, spiralling, sad, History

Optional Prompts used: none

"Remus," Hermione said, sighing deeply, "you really do have the most dreadful job in the world." She had been helping him grade papers for approximately an hour and a half, and however much she may have enjoyed enlightening second-years on comma usage and the proper spelling of Riddikulus, even she had to admit that it became a bit wearing after the first forty or so minutes- honestly, they were studying the spell in class, had none of them even bothered to glance at the textbook? It was like Ron and Harry's History of Magic papers all over again.

"Miss Granger," he said in his classic 'Professor Lupin' tone, "if you would just get on with your work, we could be finished with these papers and move on to something more interesting." He hadn't looked up from the parchment in front of him, his quill still moving gracefully across the page, scrawling corrections here and there in the maroon ink she had purchased him for Christmas.

"Something more interesting?" Hermione asked, briefly remembering their heated kiss over tea the afternoon before and hoping he meant something similar. "Such as?"

He grinned, his smile oddly bright painted on the tired canvas that was his face. "Third year papers." At her slight huff, Remus's grin only grew as he added, "I'm only joking, love. This is all we have for today." He leaned across the desk they were sharing- his desk, of course- and pecked her lips with his. "Why do you help me if it frustrates you so?"

"Because you're my husband," she replied softly, looking up now from his mouth to his eyes, "and if you're going to hole yourself up all day doing this utterly morbid job, then by Merlin I'm going to hole myself up with you." It was true- if the only way she could spend time with her husband was to help him wade through the endless stacks of students' papers, then she'd do it any day of the week. Her heart was set on it, no matter how discouraged, disillusioned, and- well- sad it made her to see students spiraling into bad writing habits.

"So it isn't because you want to make sure that James and Albus are doing their work?" he asked, winking as she pretended to be flustered.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said rather haughtily. "It's not as though I'll write a letter to Harry and Ginny if they aren't."

"No," he admitted, smirking a bit now, "you'll just tell me to threaten them with one," he finished, pursing his lips to hold back his laughter.