A/N: This is the next in my series of Remus Smutshots. Last was Remus and Gabrielle Delacour, which was a lot of fun! This is Remus and Hestia Jones, from the Order. As I write this, I know NOTHING about what it's going to be except how I'm going to get it started, so we'll see where it leads!
-C
She was a bit younger that Remus, about five years, too young to have been in the Order the first time around. Hestia Jones was pretty, Remus decided, dark hair, deep, knowing eyes, and a bit of a stern look about her. She was the sort of woman, like McGonagall, he thought with amusement, who knew exactly how to get other people to do what she wanted and needed them to do. There was nothing wrong with that in the slightest, to Remus. Lily Evans had been the same way. He thought most women who were worth any mention had a bit of that quality about them.
He was at every Order meeting, of course, because what else did he have to do? He certainly had no job. Hestia was at most all of them, but her commute was a bit longer, so she sometimes missed one or two for this or that. Granted, everyone had a longer commute, even Sirius who lived a floor above Remus in Grimmauld place and had a staircase more to take when he wanted to go to the basement kitchen for Order meetings.
Remus might have felt ashamed, felt he was living on his friend's charity, if Dumbledore hadn't sat Remus down and explained that it was really essential to the Order that Remus live at Grimmauld Place. Sirius was confined, and there was little Sirius liked less than being confined, but they'd found it: being confined in his accursed childhood home. Remus needed to stay with him, to keep him busy, to keep him feeling useful, to keep him from doing something foolish and impulsive.
It was increasingly difficult as a task, Remus found, with the way Severus poked at and goaded Sirius at every turn, although Sirius wasn't much better. Remus felt like the prefect again, doing virtually nothing to keep his best friend and his enemy from dueling at every turn.
Hestia didn't seem to notice the tension between Severus and Sirius, doing her part, minding her own business, and leaving. Always leaving. Remus couldn't figure out why, but he knew he didn't like it when she left Grimmauld Place, left him. He frowned, thinking to himself about the way he felt watching her walk out the door and Disapparate. It was a very specific type of pain, like losing something important, like... like an arm or something. Yes, you could do without it, but it wasn't nearly as good as having it.
Did he need Hestia like an arm? Remus wanted to hit himself for the silly thought. He couldn't afford to need anyone, because everyone he'd allowed himself to even sort of rely on left him, whether or not they wanted to. Even Sirius would leave eventually. He would be freed, or he would do something stupid and Remus wouldn't be able to stop him. That was the way that worked. He just couldn't let himself need someone, for his own sake and for the sake of whoever might be needed.
But that ache of watching her leave...
She lingered one day, going over some maps and reports in the kitchen, and Remus found himself lingering in the pantry, watching her, wondering why she stayed. Finally, he summoned his courage, stepped into the kitchen proper, and set about making some tea.
"Cuppa?" he asked her in the friendliest voice he could muster up. He wasn't sure why, but his voice was feeling weak.
"Yes, thank you," Hestia said, smiling softly up at him before returning back to her papers. He set the cup down in front of her and she began sipping it gently without sugar or cream, just like Remus took his. "Have you looked at these plans for the Department of Mysteries? I don't know how they keep any of it straight."
"Yeah, I have," he said slowly. "I, um, don't really understand them, so I just patrol the entrance; don't bother getting any closer to the goal."
"Oh, I think that's what we all do," Hestia said with a nod. "It's not advisable to mess with Unspeakable's territory if it can be helped. I hope I never have to set foot inside that door, myself."
Remus nodded. She was so pretty. Did she know how pretty she was? He could tell she didn't spend much time fixing herself up, not wearing any make-up, her hair carelessly combed and brushed to the side. What did that mean? That she knew she was beautiful?
Beautiful. Yes, she was beautiful, he realized, moving a bit closer to her without noticing. She didn't notice, he didn't notice. But he just kept getting a little bit closer.
Remus finally realized he was right beside her, and that she was turning to look at him expectantly.
"Did you need something?" she said softly, and that did it. Before he realized what he was doing, his lips pressed to hers, not demanding, not insisting, but merely resting against her lips, savoring the feel of the feeling of touching his lips to those of a woman, something he hadn't felt in so long...
When it occurred to him what he had done, Remus pulled away, heart pounding in his throat. What was she going to do, how she was going to react to his bold, thoughtless gesture. What he hadn't expected was for her to take his face in her hands, pulling his face closer and pressing her lips to his.
Just like that, whatever had been keeping those two quiet, reserved souls from acting on something they hadn't realized was there snapped. Remus and Hestia began devouring each other in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place as if it was the only logical, reasonable thing to do. The hunger and passion that burned between them like a flame feeding on itself grew so quickly that all there was to do was give in. Before either of them really understood what was happening, Remus was tearing off his shirt and Hestia was running her fingers across the scars that lined his arms and chest. Remus shivered, wondering why he wasn't ashamed of the marks.
Perhaps it was the reverence with which she touched them, like because they were a part of him they were a beautiful thing to be cherished. Remus had never looked at them as anything but disgusting, but there it was, her fingertips making him reevaluate the way he looked at his scars. Hestia was already changing his life.
Her fingers pulled away from his skin as she quickly undressed herself, leaving Remus standing, stunned, as he looked at the perfect form of her body before him.
It took Remus all of seconds to rip the rest of his clothes off and give into his passions.
Hestia had been a Ravenclaw, and it showed. She treated making love as an academic experience, and Remus speculated that she probably treated her academic experiences like making love. For his part, though, he didn't mind much. He was enjoying someone looking at his body and not cringing away. The interest she had in his body, in his reactions to her touch, boosted his shattered self-esteem.
He realized as they lay together after collapsing from the efforts of their intimacies, that they would not be lovers. It wasn't how she saw him and it wasn't how he felt for her. But it made Remus think that maybe, just maybe, he could find someone he could love who would look at him and see him how Hestia had.
Maybe there was hope after all.