A/N: This is the next segment in my line of Remus Smutshots. The last, for those who are interested in exploring my adventures of expanding my comfort zone, was Remus/Bertha Jorkins. This, if you hadn't checked already, is Remus/Charity Burbage. I hope you enjoy!

-C

There weren't a lot of teachers young enough to really socialize with on the same level, Remus soon realized. Most of them taught him when he was in school, Trelawney was probably certifiably insane, and Severus…well, old grudges apparently never died.

The one person Remus eventually found himself enjoying the company of in his free time between classes was the Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage. She was a plain sort of woman, but very knowledgeable in her discipline and certainly better company than Trelawney or Severus.

"Have you assigned essays to your third years yet, Remus?" she asked him one afternoon, early into the first term.

"No, not yet," he said. "Why?"

"Be careful about Miss Granger," she said with a pleased sort of sigh. "She'll write you a novel if you give her half a chance. Brilliant girl, though. Absolutely brilliant."

That was true. Remus figured that out quite quickly. Hermione Granger was probably the smartest witch of her age. Remus reminisced for a moment about the incredibly long essays Lily had produced, back when she had been in school. He wondered briefly if there was something in attempting to compensate for being Muggleborn that lead to overcompensation from the two obviously intelligent and talented Muggleborn witches. But Lily eventually calmed down and loosened up, and he assumed that Hermione would, as well, when the proper life circumstances presented themselves. Until then, she would probably cause headaches and begrudging joy at the dedication to her work in all the hearts of her professors who had to deal with her work.

But they didn't always talk about work, and by the second term, they were so close that they were going out for drinks on the weekend. Remus realized it could be misconstrued as a date. But he didn't care. He knew she wasn't really his type. But he didn't care. He knew it was probably going to go nowhere it ought to be. But he didn't care. It had been too long.

The kiss happened a bit close to a full moon. The Wolfsbane could do many things to aid in the transformation, but the lead-up was still the same as always. The fact that there was a quite willing female available didn't hurt at all.

The kissing quickly turned more passionate, and Remus led her into his room, eagerly attempting to devour her mouth with kisses, anxiously attempting to tear off their clothes as they made their way blindly toward the bed, not parting to look around and tripping over the legs of chairs and tables and the like. They fell onto the bed together in a heap, quickly reorganizing in a more useful position and resuming their intense exchange.

In the morning, Remus awoke with the body of Charity Burbage in his arms, curled up against him, clearly relishing in the warmth of his unusually high body heat. He realized the implications of what they had done as he ran his fingers along her skin. Why had he done it? He couldn't even remember.

The real fact of the matter was that they did it again. And again…and again…and again….

And when he heard of her mysterious disappearance, he knew the truth of it. He might have been a married man, but he hadn't forgotten Charity and those nights curled up in his sheets, writhing and battling for dominance. She wouldn't just disappear. Voldemort had found her, and she was dead. There was no other explanation.

"All right, love?" Tonks asked, kissing Remus's head gently.

"Muggle Studies teacher is dead, I'm sure of it," he sighed. "She was a nice woman."

"Shame," Tonks said sadly, taking the paper from him.

"Yeah," Remus said, watching her face darken as she flipped through the pages. "Shame."