AN: Sorry the chap's a little later than usual, I've been really sick. Hope you like.

"So I dive to the left and barely manage to snatch the quaffle out of the air by tips of my fingers!"

"That's nice, Ron," said Hermione absently.

"Nice!" sputtered Ron, leaping from the sofa. "It was more than nice, Hermione, it was bloody miraculous! Monumental even!"

"Yeah, mate, it was brilliant." said Harry, clapping Ron heartily on the back. "Play like that in the match on Saturday and we're golden!"

At the reminder of the upcoming match, Ron's bravado vanished abruptly and he began to look somewhat sick. Hermione however, was too absorbed in her own turbulent thoughts to pay much mind to her friend's distress.

"What's that you've got there anyway," asked Ron, peering curiously into Hermione's lap, perhaps in a effort to distract himself from his pre-game jitters. A look of burgeoning horror dawned on his face once he saw what was there.

"Oh, god," he said dramatically. "Don't tell me you've taken up Spew again? You know the only one dodgy enough to take your hats is Dobby, and that's only 'cause he's right mad, that one."

The clicking of Hermione's knitting needles increased furiously, sounding rather ominously to Ron like the clicking of an Acromantula's pincers.

"For your information Ronald, it's not a hat, it is a scarf," Hermione bit out, continuing to knit at a feverish pace. "And for the last time it's S.P.E.W.!"

"So you are starting it up again?" asked Ron, looking horror stricken at the very thought.

"No I am not," Hermione explained tightly. "Actually, I'm knitting this as a gift for someone."

"Oh," said Ron, suddenly smiling as an idea occurred to him. "Is it me?"

"No," said Hermione flatly.

"Mate, if it was for you before it isn't now," said Harry laughingly.

"Well, who's it for then?"

"If you must know, it's for Professor Lupin."

"Lupin," said Ron incredulously. "What's he need a hat for?"

Hermione glared.

"Sorry, a scarf," Ron amended hastily. "You can't blame me Hermione!" he protested defensively when she continued to glare. "It's hard to tell what it is when it's all lumpy like that."

Hermione sighed. "I just thought it would be nice," she muttered. "What with the full moon coming up."

"Oh yeah, when is that?" asked Harry.

"Tomorrow night," said Hermione quietly, focusing intently on her knitting.

"Poor bloke," said Ron sympathetically. "Think he'll make the match?"

As Harry and Ron lost themselves in an intense discussion on Quidditch strategy, Hermione found herself drifting off into her own thoughts.

She wondered if Remus (Professor Lupin, she reminded herself sternly) would be able to come out for the match on Saturday or if he would still be recovering from his monthly ordeal. It was such a horrible situation. The man was forced to tear himself apart once a month, and then on top of everything else had to deal with the hate and bigotry of the wizarding community at large. It just wasn't fair, Hermione thought to herself bitterly. But as she had learned many times over, life wasn't fair. There shouldn't be mass enslavement of House-Elves, she shouldn't be scorned for having muggle parents, Harry's parents should still be alive, and werewolves shouldn't be reviled and mistreated the way they were. But that was simply the way it was, and sometimes Hermione lost hope that she would ever be able to change anything. So now she was making Remus a scarf. And maybe in some small way that would help. Or maybe Ron was right and it was a preposterously stupid idea. She held up her half finished scarf and examined it critically. Perhaps it was a tad lumpy in places, but overall Hermione thought she had improved a great deal since her fifth year. Besides, she could always fix the lumpy bits by magic once she was finished knitting it. It would be warm at least, and she thought the deep, red and gray colors would suit her Professor well.

But were they really in the type of relationship where it would be appropriate to knit him a scarf? Well, obviously Hermione had been doing many inappropriate things with her Professor lately, but this was of a different nature. Maybe Remus (Professor Lupin, Professor Lupin, she had to get that through her head) would think she was being a silly, sentimental little twit. But Hermione couldn't help but feel tender towards him. Despite their bed antics (or perhaps more appropriately, desk antics) Hermione knew that her Professor was about the sweetest man alive. He was caring, and smart, and utterly adorable at times, not to mention dead sexy. Hermione groaned. She was in way over her head here. Glancing up and seeing the time, Hermione carefully placed the unfinished scarf inside her bag and stood.

"I've got my detention," she explained to Harry and Ron, interrupting their talk of Quidditch.

"Going to give Lupin the scarf?" Ron asked would be casually. It was obvious he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

"It's not finished yet," Hermione huffed, feeling more insecure then ever about her gift now. She turned to go, waving goodbye to the boys.

"Honestly," she heard Ron say to Harry as she was exiting through the portrait, "the man puts her in detention and she makes him a scarf!"

"Come in." came the call from inside the office. Hermione, who had been nervously flattening her hair (as if that wasn't a completely hopeless case) took a deep breath and entered her Professor's domain.

He was looking a bit worn, but still very handsome, and standing beside his desk waiting for her.

"Good evening, Professor," Hermione said demurely. While she had started referring to him as Remus in her head, in this environment it somehow seemed inappropriate to think of him as anything but her Professor.

"Hello, Miss Granger." He nodded at her in greeting and smiled, gesturing for her to bend over his desk, presumably so he could ascertain if she was wearing knickers.

Hermione's eyes widened in sudden panic. "Gobshite!" she hissed furiously under her breath.

Lupin raised an eyebrow at her in curiosity and possibly a hint of amusement. "Is everything all right, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Yes, Professor. Everything's fine," Hermione replied, but there was an edge of hysteria in her voice. She was still wearing her knickers. How could she have forgotten to take them off before coming to her detention?

"Well, then kindly bend over my desk, Miss Granger, before I make you" Professor Lupin instructed her, waiting expectantly for her to do as he commanded.

Hermione felt as if a hyperactive pygmy puff was jumping about erratically in her stomach, she was so nervous. Her whole body was flushed. What would he do when he discovered that she was wearing knickers? It had been an honest mistake on her part, but she didn't think that would matter to him. Doubtlessly he would still punish her for her misbehavior. Hermione found herself tingling all over with nervous excitement. Slowly, she walked towards his desk and braced her arms against it. She simply stood there for a few seconds, biting her lip, before hesitantly leaning forward.

For an inordinate amount of time he just stared. It was as if Hermione could feel her Professor's gaze burning into her offending undergarment. She gulped.

"Miss Granger, you seem to have forgotten something this evening," Lupin finally observed in a deadly soft voice. "Do you make it a habit of forgetting my orders, or do you flout them on purpose?"

He reached forward and dragged his finger under the seam of her knickers on her left butt cheek before pulling it taut and snapping it against her skin. Hermione gasped, partly from the sudden contact and partly from his accusation.

"No!" she protested vehemently. "I just - I just…forgot," she finished lamely.

"Nevertheless, I'm afraid you'll have be punished. Maybe that will improve your memory."

"Yes, Professor," Hermione whispered.

"Get up!" he barked, giving her a slap on her knicker clad bum to punctuate this command. His sternness with her was inadvertently turning her on.

Hermione stood and watched wearily as her Professor circled around to the other side of his desk and took a seat in his large, armless, black leather office chair. She was very curious about what he was doing and how it would pertain to her punishment, but she dared not ask. Once her Professor had situated himself he motioned for her to come around the desk and stand before him. Hermione did, staring meekly at the ground but darting little glances at her Professor when she thought he might not be looking. He caught her every time, causing her to blush furiously and resume studying her shoes. They really could use a polishing up…

"Look at me, Miss Granger," Lupin instructed, and Hermione dragged her reluctant eyes to his.

"You've been a very naughty girl," he accused, his voice sinfully low, causing Hermione's lower stomach to flutter.

"Yes, Sir," she admitted.

"Come here," he ordered, patting his lap. Hermione approached him cautiously, unsure of what he wanted her to do. Her Professor soon cleared it up.

"Lay down over my lap," Hermione's eyes widened minutely. He was going to bend her over his knee and spank her like a little child. Taking a deep breath, Hermione did as she was told, easing herself down over her Professor's lap. Tendrils of long, bushy hair dangled to the floor, and blood began to rush to her head. She shifted forward and felt a tell tale bulge digging into her stomach. Without warning, her knickers were suddenly wrenched down to the vicinity of her kneecaps. Hermione gasped at the sudden sensation. Her Professor began caressing her buttock, kneading it almost as if he were giving her a massage. Hermione sighed and arched in her pleasure, and that was when he delivered the first blow. It came hard, fast, and sharp, and then it happened again. He spanked her over and over, causing Hermione to jerk on his lap from the frequent blows. This was somehow much more humiliating than being spanked when bent over a desk, and Hermione bit her lip to keep from crying out. Despite herself, she could feel wetness gathering between her thighs as her punishment continued. After a few minutes, the blows stopped coming and only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the small room.

"Get up," her Professor said finally, sounding very composed. Hermione stood on shaky legs and her knickers fell down around her ankles. She bent to remove them completely.

"Miss Granger, what do you think you are doing?" Lupin demanded, and it was clear she had acted in a way that displeased him, though she couldn't fathom what she had possibly done wrong now.

Hermione peered up at him questioningly. "Taking off my knickers, Professor," she explained earnestly.

"Did I say you could do that?"

"N-no," Hermione stuttered, stilling in the process of stepping out of her knickers.

"Then don't. You will not continue to disobey me, Miss Granger. If you're so intent on wearing your knickers, you can keep them on all night."

Hermione hung her head, "Yes, Professor."

"Now sit," he said, gesturing towards a student desk where parchment, ink and a quill were set out.

Was he actually going to have her do lines? Lupin stared at her impatiently. Constricted by the knickers that still adorned her ankles, Hermione hobbled to the desk, humiliated.

"Apparently I have not managed to make myself clear to you, so in order to get my expectations through your pretty, little head you will be writing 'I must obey my Professor'."

Hermione repressed a sigh. "How many times, Professor?"

"Until I permit you to stop. Under no circumstances are you to stop writing unless I tell you to. Is that understood, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Sir," she replied, picking up the quill and dipping it into the stark, black ink. She began to write her line, 'I must obey my Professor' in her neat, steady handwriting. At first, Lupin just watched her at her task, but after a few minutes he stood from his desk and walked over to stand behind her. He peered over her shoulder, watching her write. His presence behind her was imposing and made her distracted and nervous. Merlin, he smelt good, Hermione thought as she inhaled deeply, unabashedly smelling him. He smelt of spices, parchment, and just a hint of chocolate. Hermione moaned softly at this intoxicating combination. His scent was beginning to make her feel heady. He was like a drug to her, and when inhaled he had mind spinning effects.

He moved her hair to the side, prompting a quick intake of breath from Hermione, and bent down lower to speak against her neck. His soft lips ghosted over her sensitive skin. "Do I smell good?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed out faintly. He was suddenly making it very hard for her to concentrate on her lines. So that was the game he would play with her tonight. With a new determination, Hermione attempted to ignore her Professor, whose lips were still held enticingly against her neck, and apply herself to her lines. But it seemed her Professor would make an effort to distract her. He began sucking lazily on the side of her neck, laving his tongue over the area, and then sucking hard again. Hermione moaned softly and unconsciously tilted her head to the side, providing better access to her tender neck. Lupin continued to play, nipping at her neck and dragging his teeth up the side of it. Hermione smudged an 'o'. Revisiting the area on her neck where he had marked her as his, something that excited Hermione on a primal level, even if it would be a pain to cover up in the morning, he swirled his tongue over the fresh hickey. Hermione wasn't quite successful in holding in her moan, and she could feel Lupin smirk against her neck before he stood again, still looming behind her. He reached out and began to massage her shoulders, gradually dipping his hands lower and lower till they had crept down to her breasts. Hermione gasped as he held their weight possessively in his large hands, squeezing and massaging them as if they were favored playthings. She struggled to keep on writing. Her breathing had sped up, but she had slowed down drastically in penning her lines. She had been working on one 'obey' for about five minutes now. Lupin continued to massage her breasts, seeming to take pleasure anytime Hermione was unable to hold back her moans.

Suddenly he tore open the buttons of her blouse with a series of pops. Hermione jerked in surprise, almost upending the ink bottle and Lupin chuckled.

"Be careful Miss Granger, or I'll make you clean it all up," he told her teasingly, before growing stern again, "Keep writing."

He began circling her nipples through the lace of her bra, flicking and pinching them into hardness. Hermione found her usually neat writing growing more and more shaky, almost to the point of illegibility. His hands began dancing over her stomach, making her abdomen ripple as he traced nonsense on it with his fingers, which were wet from his mouth. The air felt cool on the designs he had traced on her stomach. His hands ventured lower and he slid his fingers just under the top of her skirt, dragging them across her bikini line and making her gasp and jerk forward, almost upending the ink bottle again. He did this a few times, and Hermione's breathing grew ragged as she struggled to continue writing and hold in her gasps and moans. Dipping his fingers further under her skirt he began tracing the lines that formed the 'v' of her pelvis. Hermione was on the edge of reason now, panting as she struggled valiantly not to move into his hands. How desperately she wished he would move them to her center. Just as she was thinking she would go mad if he didn't either stop or do something more, her Professor withdrew his hands from her skirt and stepped back. He circled around till he was standing in front of her. The move felt predatory, as if she was his prey and he was examining her before going in for the kill.

Staring intently into her eyes, her Professor dropped to his knees before her. Hermione gasped. What was he doing? Bending forward, he helped her step out of her forgotten knickers and then flung them across the room. Hermione had the feeling she wouldn't be getting them back. She should really send the man a bill given the amount of her clothing he had either destroyed or stolen. He began to ease apart her legs, and Hermione abandoned all pretense of trying to write her lines. Rubbing his hands up and down her calves he spread them further, and then bent forward and laid a kiss on her knee cap. Hermione about melted into a pile of goo. He began lavishing kisses on her thighs, pausing to lick and suck at different ventures as he inched higher. Switching his attentions to her other thigh, he swirled his tongue tantalizingly on her skin, inches from her pussy and sucked hard enough to mark her. Hermione was panting now. She could guess what he was about to do, and her stomach was bubbling with nerves. The thought of him tasting her, of his face against her, was mortifying, but she was also curious. He licked closer and closer till he was at the edges of her center. Hermione gasped as he nudged his nose between her lower lips.

"You smell…so good," he panted. "I want to taste you."

And then he was. His tongue darted forward and licked between her folds. Hermione gasped and bucked into him, having no time to be embarrassed by her automatic reaction. He continued to explore her with his tongue, licking around and between her folds. Her Professor swirled his tongue around her tight, little bundle of nerves and Hermione screamed her pleasure. Sucking hard at the bud and then circling it with his tongue, he made her feel sensations she never had before. Hermione gripped his head tightly with her thighs, holding him against her. When he took her clit in his mouth the feeling was mind blowing, and Hermione bucked into him uncontrollably. He continued to play with her clit, sucking it hard and then licking around it, before he ventured lower and thrust his tongue inside her. Hermione cried out in shock and pleasure. His tongue was inside her! He thrust it into her in imitation of another organ, but the feeling was so different. Hermione groaned and bucked against his face as he swirled his tongue inside her. As he tongue fucked her, he reached down to tease her clit with his fingers, pinching and circling it wildly, driving Hermione mad with pleasure. When he removed his tongue from her body and once again sucked hard at her clit that was the end of it for Hermione. She came explosively.

"Oh, god!…Remus - I, oh, god!" she screamed. Lost in her pleasure, Hermione didn't even notice that she had slipped and called her Professor by his given name. She was too far gone. Her Professor, however, did notice. Hermione fell back sweaty and panting against the desk chair. The ink bottle had been knocked to the floor by her wild bucking, but had apparently been charmed not to spill. That was nice, Hermione reflected distantly. She smiled dopily in her after glow. Her Professor emerged from between her thighs and smiled wildly up at her, even though he hadn't yet been satisfied. The two smiled stupidly at each other for a few moments before Professor Lupin snapped out of his trance and leaned forward to scoop Hermione up bridal style. She giggled in breathless surprise as he carried her over and set her down upon his desk. Staring up at him, she watched as he leaned in and kissed her. Hermione gasped, and Lupin took the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue.

She could taste herself on his mouth, and the sensation made her want to be as close to him as possible. Scooting forward on the desk, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. His arousal made itself known to her immediately and she ground into it, moaning as his tongue continued to fight for dominance in their frenzied kisses. Moans and gasps echoed throughout the office as they rocked and thrust against each other. He detached his hands from around her waist and began to undue his trousers. Hermione helped shove them down to unleash his straining cock. He sheathed himself in her immediately, both of them groaning in satisfaction as she encased his manhood. She barely had time to enjoy the delicious feeling of fullness before he pulled out and thrust deeply back inside her. Hermione leaned back, bracing herself on the desk so that she was tilted away from him at an angle. She thrust to meet him and they found a rhythm that had Hermione crying out as he took her deeper and deeper. In the back of her mind she was aware that his papers were being knocked to the floor as they rutted on his desk, but neither of them seemed to care as he continued to take her without abandoned.

"God, love, you're so tight," Lupin gasped as he thrust into her. "Come on. Come for me, love," he urged her.

With one last frantic thrust Hermione spun out of control, and Lupin followed shortly after. They cried out together as they both found their release.

Panting, Hermione fell back flat on the desk.

"Wow," she gasped out. Lupin smiled at her. Still inside her, he reached forward and pushed aside a sweaty tendril of hair from her forehead. They stared intently into each others eyes, and then Remus leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Oh. My. Merlin.

So a little BDSM for ya'll who like that, and a little sweetness for ya'll who like that. Tell me if you thought the end was rushed. Please review!