Fresh Laundry

Hermione Granger hummed softly to herself, the old tune coming to her head as she lifted a large, clean sheet from the wicker basket at her feet. The damp, fresh-scented linen seemed contented to be draped over the laundry line, floating gently in the breeze between two large beech trees, and Hermione smiled slightly to herself as she stretched, looking down at the half-empty basket. The sun shone brightly for the unusually-warm November day and she was glad for the fortunate weather. Not only did it provide a fantastic opportunity to air-dry her laundry, but it was an adequate distraction from the potentially problematic situation that was brewing in her bed at the moment.

When she had opened the door of her cosy, thatch-roofed cottage the previous evening, the last person she was expecting to see was her former professor and somewhat-estranged older friend, Remus Lupin. Not that it was a particularly unpleasant experience to be in his presence again – it was the intense pleasure she took in being in his presence that had inspired her mild hermit-like behaviour in the first place – but the fact that they hadn't spoken more than 3 or 4 words to each other at any given point in the past 6 months had made his sudden appearance slightly strange.

He seemed slightly haggard, his beautiful smoky eyes tired and his tall, lean frame stooped under some invisible baggage. She had welcomed him in unquestioningly, forgoing her night-time ritual of a cup of tea and breaking out the bottle of firewhisky Sirius had given her for her birthday the year before. As they drank, he told her of his frustrations. Work was getting the better of him. As the new Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he had an enormous amount of responsibility, for which he wasn't particularly complaining. The hypocrisy within the slowly-changing bureaucracy, however, was grating on his last nerve.

Hermione listened, trying to concentrate on his words and not on the slow transformation of his body while he spoke. He relaxed, the lines on his face seemed to fade, and his eyes lightened substantially. After their third drink, they ended up sitting next to each other on her couch, their bodies touching innocently as they talked of life and their friends. They smiled at their shared memory of Harry's face when Ginny had announced their pregnancy – the look of absolute pride that had covered the man's face had been heart-warming – and they joked about Tonks and Ron's recent engagement, musing over their ex-lovers' happiness and agreeing that they really were perfect for each other in an odd sort of way.

By their sixth drink they were facing each other, knees touching, arms brushing more than was appropriate as they lounged against the back of the chair. Remus was smiling at something she had said, though what she couldn't possibly remember, and when his eyes flicked up to meet hers, Hermione felt her body melt. It was so comfortable – so perfect – to be in his presence again. She knew she could get hurt fixating too much on the older man, which had been the reason why she had moved out of Grimmauld Place a year ago and into her tiny cottage in Somerset. But in that moment, as his eyes gazed into hers, she didn't care.

She didn't remember who made the first move, but suddenly they were kissing. And then they were in her bed, naked, making love as if they were made for each other. She delighted in every touch of his hands on her body, moaned with every push of their sex, and had felt a pleasure she hadn't experienced as they reached their peaks together three times before falling asleep in each others arms.

When the morning sun had awoken her, she found herself coiled tightly in the arms of the man of her dreams, though her pounding head had told her that the consequences of this ill-advised liaison would be something that she could not handle while naked or hung over. So she had slipped out of bed, taken a hangover potion, showered, dressed, and headed downstairs to find something to occupy her time.

The laundry was as good an excuse as any to think things out.

"There you are," a raspy voice said behind her and Hermione jumped as she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. "When I woke up and you weren't there I was worried that I had dreamed last night," he whispered, kissing her head tenderly.

In spite of herself, Hermione leaned back into his body.

"It wasn't a dream," she said softly, though she couldn't bring herself to look at him just yet.

"Thank Merlin," he said, making the decision for her and spinning her around to face him. "I don't know what I would have done if it hadn't been real. Cried, I suppose."

Hermione looked up into his eyes and felt her breath hitch in her throat. The sincerity that lay in those fantastic grey orbs was unparalleled. And the dull ache that had clutched her heart since that morning seemed to ebb slightly as she tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Are you…are you sure you're…you're happy with what happened?" she asked.

He gave her a bemused smile.

"Happy? Darling, I'm ecstatic."

She felt her heart leap.

"Ecstatic?" she breathed.

"I have wanted to be with you for a very long time, Miss Granger," he said with a smile. "Longer than appropriate, to be honest. Last night was…well…it was just perfect."

She looked away, blushing slightly.

"I just thought…since we were drinking…" she let her sentence trail off and he brought a hand to her cheek, caressing its softness and forcing her to look at him again.

"It could have been one drink, and I still would have done what I did last night," he said, leaning in and kissing the tip of her nose. "As I said, Hermione, I've wanted this for a long time. If anything…" He paused and she felt a little bit of tension build in his body. "If anything, I suppose I…I took advantage of you…"

"No!" she said quickly, blushing slightly as he quirked an eyebrow. "No, no you didn't. I've…I admit that I've wanted it for a long time too. Probably longer than what's appropriate as well, professor," she teased.

He growled, leaning his forehead against hers as his hands moved down her back to cup her bottom.

"Keep that up and I'll teach you a few things," he mumbled into her ear as he nuzzled into her neck.

"Keep what up?" she found herself purring, pressing her body into his, feeling her breath hitch as the hard press of his length stretched between them.

"I suppose that's my job, isn't it?" he teased before he pressed his lips to hers. She had a moment of brief confusion before the taste and feel of him overwhelmed all other thought processes.

The hands that had been slowly caressing her back and thighs became suddenly more insistent, kneading the willing flesh as she melted into his embrace. Her body responded as it had the night before and she knew then that it wasn't just the alcohol that had made things so electric. They seemed made for each other, with every curve and angle fitting until it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended.

Remus took thorough possession of her mouth, plunging his tongue in mercilessly and using her momentary distraction to lift her easily into his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life as he fought his way out of the tangle of sheets, heading back for the cottage.

"But my washing," she breathed, pulling back to stare into his amber eyes. Determination made his face hard, but his eyes showed just how heated things were about to become.

"Later," he all but growled, pushing through the backdoor and into her modest kitchen, filled with morning sunshine and the smells of potions ingredients still heady on the air.

He used his foot to close the door behind them and spun her around so that her back was supported against the door. His hips wedged between hers and he used her gasp of surprise to his advantage by insinuating himself between her lips again.

She moaned and melted into his embrace, trusting he would hold her there, enjoying the new found freedom of turning what had been a fantasy into reality. Her mind flew with memories of the night before, of his slow burning passion and endless love making. She knew she wanted that again, but right at the moment she needed him desperately to just take her.

Remus seemed content to just feed off her small sighs and moans, but Hermione had other ideas as she slid her legs to the floor, her mouth never leaving his. She took control of the embrace, plunging her tongue into his mouth, using what balance she had on her toes to press every soft inch of her body to his. If she thought he had been happy to see her before, she was certain he was ecstatic now.

His body gave a jolt as if startled by the change of dominance, but he never stopped his constant movement, his hands caressing an endless path from her shoulders to the backs of her thighs. Hermione shivered and began to push him back, away from the door, toward the old dining table that sat in the middle of the kitchen.

"We should find a bed," he rumbled against her lips as she pushed him the final distance, his legs hitting the back of the much loved piece of furniture, forcing him to sit down. She pushed between his thighs, her fingers dancing along the belt loops of his casual pants.

"Too far," she replied, kissing down his jaw and along his exposed throat, licking quickly at his pounding pulse point.

Remus bought his hands up to twine his fingers in her unruly hair which was just as soft as he had always imagined it would be. He didn't argue again as she made quick work of his clothing, throwing her own around the kitchen in a desperate attempt to feel skin on skin. Her lips, teeth and tongue continued their journey south, nipping at his belly button and leaving a wet trail until she was staring at what she wanted.

"Please," he whispered, urging her lower, her hands braced on his straining thighs. A wicked grin spread across her face moments before her plump pink lips lowered themselves around his length. His deep moan of satisfaction filled the kitchen and her grin never faded as she used the knowledge of his body, small things she had acquired from the night before, to guide her through the movements. Relaxing her throat and using her tongue it was only a matter of minutes before he was crying out and begging her to stop.

She pulled back, smiling at his flushed expression and half lidded eyes. His chest rose and fell heavily as she crawled up onto the table, straddling his hips and letting him support her weight once more, trusting he wouldn't let her fall. She stared into his deep amber eyes as she lowered herself down onto him, gasping and writhing as her body adjusted to the tight fit.

"Oh God!" she cried out as when she finally came to rest, her forehead leaning heavily on his chest as if the sensations were too overwhelming. She kept her head there and moved only her hips, rocking against him.

Remus's grip on her became almost desperate as the rocking motion became small thrusts and soon he couldn't contain himself as he thrust up into her willing body, both of them crying out as the table groaned and scraped with their enthusiastic movements. He tipped her chin and kissed her hard as he rolled them both, pushing her thighs out until they were almost resting against the table top, using the new angle to thrust in and up into her.

Hermione buckled beneath his touch, throwing her head back and calling out his name in time to his wild movements. She felt the tension growing, spreading the warmth from her belly to her core, growing in intensity before exploding into a thousand pieces.

Remus felt her grip on him tighten; felt the flutter of her inner walls and caught his breath as her clutch became almost painful before her body shattered beneath him. He let his own fierce control slip, collapsing on her heavily as he found his release in her sweetly convulsing body.

"Fuck me," she groaned, making him smile against her breasts where he lay (laid) his head.

"I think I just did," he chuckled, silently filing her need to swear during and after sex as something to ask about later. He felt her smile against him before her lips pressed against his forehead.

"You know Remus, we're going to be going through a lot of clothes and sheets if we keep this up," she said, nudging him gently so she could sit up. She slowly surveyed the mess they had made of the kitchen.

"Well if hanging out the washing ends this way every morning then maybe that's not such a bad thing," he replied, watching her as she slipped to the floor a little shakily, gathering clothes into her arms.

She turned to smile at him, "I guess not. I don't mind really."

Remus slipped off the table and walked to her, folding her in his arms again, the clothes pressed between them, "Do you want me to help you hang it out tomorrow?" he asked, staring into her eyes, seeing the fierce intelligence shine through as she grasped just what he was asking.

"Of course I do, and the next day and the next," she replied with a soft smile, leaning up to kiss him gently.

"I look forward to it," he replied before swinging her into his arms and finally heading for the bed. This time she didn't try to argue.

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