Naughty Things With Two Fire Whiskey Bottles
Rating: T
Summery: The fire whiskey was for mere insurance; unsure (but hopeful) about how kinky she could be, the bottles of the sticky amber liquid might come in handy.
[Remus/Hermione OneShot]
A/N: I wrote this a while ago, and now that I'm getting back into the swing of things I'm revising my stories. Nothing major with this one. Just some grammar.
Remus Lupin knew from the moment he left the house, he should turn and go back instead of heading toward the place some called hell. He knew he shouldn't even be considering going to that horrible place. He should be at home, at least if he had her at home to bring a smile to his lips.
It was Halloween for goodness sakes; he should have been doing something- productive. Giving candy to randy teens on his front lawn, maybe even toilet paper a house. At least get sloshed in the confines of his own home. He heard himself snort.
He hadn't been sloshed in years, amazing what a bit of slurring of the words and stumbling could do. He hadn't drank since he, well he died. He couldn't bring himself to do it.
He was truly the last man left standing.
Hermione sat, her knees pulled up into her chest with the bowl of assorted candy left forgotten in the floor. She had been in this position for a while, an open romance novel on her knees, which she hadn't flipped the page for several hours. She didn't even try to act like she was reading, she just gazed absentmindedly into the fire.
"He isn't coming," she whispered, looking up at the clock as it chimed nine. He was an hour late.
"Remus in yet dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she popped her head into the living room.
"No, not yet. I am worried," she replied biting her lip.
"No since worrying dear. Remus is a grown man, he will be okay," She whispered,patting her on the back. "Besides, maybe he finally got a mate!"
It was no secret the entire Order wanted Remus to desperately settle down with a few kids to match. Of late, Mrs. Weasley had been pushing him to meet some of her family, even asking Hermione herself once to give suggestions. They were all getting quite desperate.
Everyone failed to notice how Hermione would go oddly quiet during these conversations.
"You know," she started with a coy grin, "Tonks is missing too. Maybe? They do make an excellent couple wouldn't they?"
Hermione replied with a mere grunt. Molly once again didn't seem notice that she wasn't terribly pleased with the topic. She tried to convince herself, it wasn't more than friendship for him, she was taken. It was wrong. But thinking of his blue eyes, she couldn't help but think it was terribly right.
Just at that moment, Ronald Weasley entered the room, with a infuriated look on his face.
Hermione sighed, it was going to be a long night.
In the crowd of drinkers, he was almost like a ghost. Completely invisible to the muggle eye. A drunk around ever corner, he cringed as the memories hit him waves. The laughter, smiling faces, only produced by herbs and clear liquids that momentarily lifted the heart of all their problems. They had always known it was the worst night to come in a bar, the night of Halloween. And god forbid, when he had ever allowed them to choose that particular day. Maybe it was because they had all because best friends that day, vowing to always be by each other. That day beside the overly large, and slightly terrifying looking pumpkin in the Great Hall, they had vowed to be best friends through and through.
Just thinking of the memories brought painful sprouts of tears to his eyes.
He didn't need to think, or remember, he just needed a drink or two.
To all the others, the one's smashed out of their minds and slightly sober alike, his face was both a strange one and familiar one. They was always the same crowd of dead beat strangers who came to the bars on Halloween night, and always for the same purpose as the year before. Most of them in their mid forties, not to convinced that they were going to hit fifty in a few years. Most tried to socialize with everyone at the bar, but he was different. The eyes followed him, as he wore the same shabby traveling cloak, dirty and worn jeans and faded t-shirts, just as the years before. His shoes were dirty and worn, slightly holes in he sides from years of extinctive use. His hair was shaggy as ever, light brown with a bit more graying each year, falling into his unnaturally blue eyes.
He sat at the same table in the back. He didn't take off his cloak, he only pulled out the same shabby leather bound book and waited for the old man at the bar to wait on him.
"The same as always sonny?"
"I suppose," he whispered with a slight smile.
With a flick of his wrist, four clear shot glasses appeared on the table, with a few bottles of fire whiskey in the middle. He gave him a curt nod. He didn't try to ask his name, or his purpose, they were no need. Not really. No one knew his name, but they knew his gentle face and painful scars. They knew his tears, and they knew that he was hurting. He had been for a while now. The bartender didn't know the man, but he seemed so familiar back to the four boys that used to come here so long ago. Sometimes, he considered it, the four glasses. So familiar, he just hoped it wasn't, he hoped that wasn't the same exuberant boy that joined the other three. The one who called themselves the Marauders.
They came here each Halloween, sneaking out of the school and the boy named Prongs ( who desperately needed a good comb) would pay for an unlimited amount of fire whiskey and four glasses around the table. They used to see who would pass out first, the tradition of the happy troublemakers. The chubby one was always down first, kissing the rather dirty floor and calling it 'Maggie' before passing out- only after his fifth glass. Boy could never learn to hold his liquor. The next one seemed to be one called Padfoot, who was so randy he would run off in the bathroom with a random girl from the pub and afterwards passing out on the table with a grin on he face. The next came the one with unruly hair, talking to inanimate objects calling them "Lily Dearest' and passing out near the bar.
Then he would be left, the thin, tall boy with the tale tale thin, light scar down his neck with a broad grin on his face. With five empty bottles of his own drained, he would nod, taking the last sip of each, stand up and successfully walk over, collecting his friends before apparating to the castle gates. With that much liquor, even he wouldn't have been able to stand, but this boy, this young man, could walk, talk in coherent sentences, and apparate successfully. He got the feeling, however brilliant and amazingly loyal this boy might be, successfully holding his liquor was one of the few joys in his life, along with the band of idiots that he had to keep up with day after day. They all were an idiotic in some ways, but they were all dreadfully intelligent.
He always wondered what happened to them, he supposed the all grew up to lead amazing lives that they deserved. He supposed 'Padfoot' was an incredible heart breaker to this day, the fat one still toddling around behind them, the one with unruly hair settled down to die old in his bed with that amazing red head he always chased and the other one. Well, he knew he deserved the best of all, but probably settled for a bit less.
He didn't realize how terribly wrong, and terribly right he was, all at the same time.
The bartender shook his head, shining off a glass and soon his thoughts drifted from thing to thing, never to land again on the four boys, who now seem to be nothing but ghosts.
Remus Lupin raised his glass, sloshing the amber liquid around, but never dared to take a sip. He couldn't bare it, he didn't want that anymore. He had always been the last one standing in his days at Hogwarts. Left to take them to the gates, and drag them up into the grounds where Hagrid would be waiting, grinning wildly to help him get them into their proper beds.
"Last one standing again Remus?" Hagrid asked with a laugh .
"You know it Hagrid," He chuckled.
"Wouldn't have to do with your 'furry little problem, now would it?"
Remus grinned as he entered back into the warmth of the empty Entrance Hall. "Never."
He wished he could go back, drink just a little to much to fast and pass out on the floor, let someone else take him back up. Or better yet, they all passed out in the floor. He was truly the last one standing.
He didn't want to be the last one standing anymore.
So lost in his thoughts and memories, he failed to notice the small woman in the elegant brown traveling cloak sit down softly beside him. He only noticed her when he felt the glass slip from his hand, only to be replaced by the amazing warmth of her palm.
He didn't have to look up to know who she was, her simple action, her welcoming silence and her addictive scent said it all. He had watched her, so much lately. He knew her scent, the way she sounded and the way she felt. He knew her voice better than she did and he knew what each subtle action of hers meant. But what he loved the most was her expressive cinnamon chocolate eyes, and how when met with his never contained pit of any kind, only passion and a deep understanding. No fear, only trust, a deep, terribly strong trust. He didn't get that much- and he was in so much debt to her because if it.
What would they think of him now, falling over his feet for a girl- no a woman, who was half his age and completely off limits?
"What happened this time?" he whispered, not meeting her eyes, "What did he say?"
"You know Ron," she hissed rolling her eyes, " Completely ridiculous finally wizened up though. I didn't fight back this time."
He looked up surprised, a thin smile on his lips, "What happened?"
"I dumped his ass. Tired of him thinking that I should be just like his mum! Well I am not Molly. And if I want to read instead of breed every five minutes, then well I am going to read damnit!"
He let out an uncharacteristic snort and relaxed back in his chair, feeling much better than he had in quite a while. She was single! Still didn't mean he had a chance, but still he could flirt openly and free of any guilt what so ever. Plus she was rid of Ron, she was single. The thought made him smile even wider.
"Well I don't blame you," he laughed, "But breeding? Is that what you call it?"
"It is when it is with Ron," she muttered, a smile curling on her lips.
"Well, it seems," he started with a coy smile, "That you might have been deprived of a proper sexual relationship."
"Really?" she asked sarcastically. "And you haven't?"
"No, not at all."
"Would you care to teach me then?" she giggled.
For a moment he felt his cheeks go red before replying amused, "Not now Love. Might need to be a bit more drunk for that."
"So would I," she agreed. There were few minutes of unsure silence before the table burst with uncontrollable laughter.
She poured a glass, drowning a shot and watched him through saddened eyes. He knew how pitiful he must look, fiddling with his glass never able to make the shot.
"I always was the last one standing you know," he whispered, "I always was the one dragging them to safety. Always stopped Sirius from falling into the lake, always stopped Peter from tripping when he saw Maggie coming down the hall. Always fixed James' messes with Lily after one of his 'grand plans.' I always helped them. I just wished I wasn't the last one standing anymore. I don't want to anymore."
"You aren't alone," Hermione whispered, scooting terribly close to him. She put her arm around his drooped shoulders. "While other's celebrate the downfall of Lord Voldemort, there are always others, wishing they could go back. They know, it might be back to a time of war and terror, but that meant they were there. Living to see these days is a happy time, knowing the world is safe. But we will always grieve, for the necessary losses who deserved to see these days more than anyone."
"I wish James, Lily and Sirius could see this. Happiness, no one is scared anymore. We all moved on, they all are safe. No more looking over our shoulders. I wish Sirius could have lived until he was able to safely step in the sun again, I wish James and Lily could have seen Harry getting married, or Ginny having kids. To see Ron make the Chuddly Canons, and to see – to see- to see me, a pathetic, randy, poor, old damn werewolf fall- fall- fall in love with you."
There was a silence, and for a moment he was terrified she would leave. But she only rose up, kissing him warmly on the cheek before taking his hands and clutching it in hers. She leaned against his shoulder and relished the feeling of him against her.
"You know," She started, "All we can do really is raise the glass."
"What's the purpose, getting pissed out of our minds?" he laughed.
"Yes, and no," She started. "Our purpose is to fill them up to top, and have a toast or two to the loved ones that watch over us. Knowing they love and accept everything we have found, and love in each other."
She poured her glass silently rising up with a sigh. His hands shook as he raised the glass.
"Don't make me meet it alone."
"Never," He whispered, unsure of his voice.
He drunk his first shot dry.
"So Remus," she started coyly, "How many more glasses before you can properly teach me those amazing sexual skills you brag about?"
Remus smiled. He only sat down his glass, grabbing a bottle (or two) in his hand. With the other he wrapped it around hers and exited the bar into the cold fall air. He didn't need to be drunk for this- quite on the contrary he wanted to remember it all. The fire whiskey was for mere insurance; unsure (but hopeful) about how kinky she could be, the bottles of sticky liquid might come in handy.
Remus Lupin looked over at her, to find her gaze right with his. It took the breath away from him and remembered why he loved her so much to begin with. Those blissful eyes said it all. Hermione Granger took his breath away like no one else ever could.
He thought back to his friends, what they had said about him. Going to grow up and marry a boring book worm just like him. Have wild sex in a library on top of a large pile of History of Magic books. Remus simply smirked.
"Hermione, how do you feel about, History of Magic?" He asked, grinning suggestively, as he counted off the naughty things he could do in his head with two fire whiskey bottles.
Hermione reflected his grin, a sparkle in her lush brown eyes.
"Yes," Remus thought. "This is much better than trick or treating."
The next morning, the table was in a flurry of excitement, fully interested in all their tales of Halloween. Fred and George by far had the most to share, while Ron and Harry told anyone who would listen about how they toilet papered Snape's house. By mid breakfast, (even before to be honest), most of the people at the table fancied them hero's, even Fred and George singing their praises.
"So Remus, Hermione," Ginny asked with a knowing grin, "How was your Halloween? You all have been oddly quiet."
Damn that girl and her decisive mind.
"Oh well you know," Hermione grinned, "The usual. Some candy, nothing terrible exciting."
"A few fire whiskey bottles," Remus grinned, earning a good elbow in the rib cage from Hermione.
Harry and Ron shared a look, trying to smother their giggles.
"I'm not sure if I want to know what happened to those bottles," Ron giggled to Harry.
"Neither do I mate. Neither do I."
"Remus, Tonks and I have thought about it and we have finally figured out the best mate for you!" Mrs. Weasley giggled.
Hermione growled under her breath, feeling Remus take her hand with a reassuring squeeze.
"Should I even protest?"
"No point in it really," Tonks grinned, her hair a lovely shade of lime green.
"Alright then. Enlighten me. Who?"
"Hermione of course!" Mrs. Weasley laughed, "I mean really, do you really think we
didn't hear you last night? Silencing charms love, they're golden."
Hermione blushed crimson, before looking over to Remus with a sheepish grin, "Damn."
"At least we didn't forget the contraceptive charm," he declared openly.
Hermione slapped him across the arm, blushing even harder, "And to think, I thought that what we did with the fire whiskey would have been a secret."
A coy grin came across Remus's lips as he gave her a lustful gaze, "Dreadfully useful things, fire whiskey bottles. All the naughty things that are possible."
"And you tried every one of them," Harry sighed, "We know. Don't tell us details."
There was a stunning silence for a few moments before they all burst out in sobs of laughter. But inside, Hermione was thankful of everyone's acceptance. Maybe fire whiskey did have it's uses after all.