Disclaimer – None of the creative works of the Harry Potter series belong to me, just this silly little plot.
Author's Note -
So a review mentioned some concern over alcohol poisoning. Most of what I write pertaining real life situations like drinking for example is taken from my own personal experiences. I've had two bullfrogs, and shots on top of it. It gets you sloshed out of your mind. But I didn't get alcohol poisoning. I'm a tiny little 20 year old with barely any experience but still quite heavy weight with the alcohol and with a stomach of steel. I think after drinking (and having so many reasons to drink) for decades, Remus has developed more of a tolerance. Alcohol poisoning depends on a person's weight, height, age, tolerance, and other factors like how much they have eaten, their fitness, etc etc etc. So it not a FACT that Remus would have had alcohol poisoning, it is an OPINION. And while I appreciate your opinion, I have explained the reasoning behind mine. Thank you though, because if you don't actively criticize my work, it won't give me a reason to really think about the little details, and make it better.
Also, life's been shitstorm after shitstorm. Sorry about the late updates. But there are things I planned for later which I have given you a glimpse of in this chapter as my way of apologizing for this and future inconsistencies in updates.
Stranger Danger
The sun was dipping lower by the minute, sitting hours past noon, and the world was abuzz with life. The day had begun for most people hours ago, off to work, to school, or wherever they need be. The streets were bustling with the commotion of a booming metropolis. Drivers honked at one another, cars jam packed on busy roads. Pedestrians wove through the walkways, and cyclists wove through cars, all determined to reach their destinations on time. Every corner smelled of coffee, fresh baked goods, and rain. Halloween decorations had been taken down, and winter sales had set in, as the businesses prepared for the Christmas boom. London was awake and alive.
Sunlight crept through the spaces between the curtains, and while the city hummed around them, the only sound that echoed through this room were the soft breaths of two sleeping souls, wrapped up in each other's embrace. The only movement here was the steady rise and fall of their chests, as they lay, oblivious to time. They were still in their clothes from the night before, having been too intoxicated by each other to give anything, other than their desires, a second thought. But despite the belt, the fitted jeans, the jewel encrusted dress, all constricting, the couple had never looked so comfortable in sleep as they did today, limbs tangled in a beautiful mess.
It was his eyes that opened first, and he tilted his head to the side, looking down at the gorgeous woman draped over his chest. He cracked a smile, contentment plain on his face, and craned his neck lower, placing a soft kiss on her head, before pulling her closer, and shutting his eyes again. A happy sigh escaped him, and he wanted nothing more than for her to wake up so that he could kiss her again, this time when both were sober. The thought hit him like a freight train, and panic replaced his joy. Fear came next; of what would happen, what she would say, and what she would do. He didn't know anything, only that whatever he said or did, it was not under the influence of alcohol. But he couldn't be so sure about her.
What if she regrets it?
Merlin, what've I done?
Her eyes opened next, only a few minutes later, with the promise of pulling him out of limbo. He had been going back and forth between anxiety and fear like a game of ping pong, with his life as the stake. He would know what she felt in a moment. She was awake and this was the moment of truth. She stretched out over him like a cat waking from a nap, and looked up to see his eyes closed. Moving up so that her head was in line with his, she brought her arm around his face, stroking his stubbled chin lightly, running her fingers along his sharp cheeks. She didn't want to wake him, but she couldn't resist the urge, and so she dipped her head down, leaving little kisses on his nose and lips. Her hand travelled up to his hair, stroking it with as much as admiration as the previous night, and he opened his eyes, relief washing over him, to be replaced by raw desire.
He flipped her over suddenly, smiling down at her sleepy face, "Good morning, beautiful."
"Good morning," she replied shyly, embarrassed at the unabashed compliment.
He kissed her, now that she was awake, and both of them were more aware than last night. She tilted her head, opening her mouth, inviting him in, and he gladly accepted, tongue sliding through her lips with ease. She responded with just as much passion, running her hands over his back, pulling him down onto her. She scrunched her nose slightly, and he broke the contact, eyeing her.
"Feeling okay?"
"Yes, I'm alright," she scrunched her nose again, "Just got this pang in my head that comes and goes."
"The alcohol will do that. Would you like to freshen up, and we'll fix something to eat, as well as something to help with the ache?"
He kissed her along her collarbone and she smiled, closing her eyes and humming under the magic of his lips, "Mmmm, that sounds good."
When he rolled off her, she let out a groan of protest, prompting him to peck her nose before climbing out of bed, and walking into the washroom. She sat there for a few moments, surrounded by his sheets, on his bed, in his bedroom, and the realization spread her lips into a giddy grin. She couldn't believe that what she had dreamed of, what she had always felt to be a distant fantasy, was now nearly a reality. But rather than overthink it and ruin her high, she crawled out of his bed and headed to her own room to wash up.
When Hermione emerged from her room, the smell of breakfast tingled her nostrils, and her grumbling belly. She padded into the kitchen, and found Remus standing over the stove, flipping an omelet. The sight of him brought back the memories of the night before, and as she sat at the island, she couldn't help but stare at him.
Absolutely delectable.
Her thoughts wandered to the club, and how he had grabbed onto her, hot bodies gyrating against each other, beads of sweat forming on his neck, and hers; the way he nipped at her ear, the way he pecked the crook of her neck, the way their hips moved in synchrony. Hermione licked her lips, and wondered; how could a man bring about such a reaction in her so fast, without even a single word being uttered? How could he make her weak in the knees without even glancing her way, simply with partial memories and fantasies?
Remus turned around, plate in hand, and smiled at her, breaking her out of her reverie, "Glad to see you've made it out finally Mrs. Lupin. Here we go," he set the omelet down in front of her, along with other breakfast items, "Breakfast at dinner. Dig in."
"Thank you Mr. Lupin," and she did dig in.
Her stomach had been bothering her since she woke up, chastising her for depriving it of the nutrition it needed, crunching and groaning in want of a good meal. And was this a good meal. The bacon was cooked to perfection, and maybe everything just tasted better when one was outrageously hungry, but she had never had an omelet this good in her life. For a while, they ate in silence, letting their bodies normalize, pumping it with the juices it needed. And when both couldn't eat another bite, they cleared up together, Remus setting the plates to wash, while Hermione prepared tea for them.
They sat down on the couch in the living room, with Remus sitting on one end, feet propped up on the coffee table, and Hermione leaning against his chest, one arm of his thrown over her shoulder. Settled down, she grabbed the remote control and gave it a click, flipping through channels until she found something interesting for them to watch. But before they knew it, he had shifted her into his lap, turning her so that she straddled him, and they began the dance their lips had been aching to do.
"Sorry we can't really go out today. I know I said I'd like to take you."
Hermione shook her head, chuckling, "I'm not sorry. I spent that time with you, and you're not mad at me anymore."
"Well I may not be mad, but it doesn't mean what you did isn't wrong. Something could have happened to you," he lifted her hand kissed the inside of her palm, "What would I do then?"
He pulled her face down, planting a firm kiss on her lips, and she brought her arms around his neck, stroking his messy hair.
"That needs to be cut soon," he said, in an almost questioning tone.
Hermione ran her fingers through the soft, brown locks that just touched his shoulders, "Hmmm, I dunno. I quite like the feel of it."
"Then I guess it'll have to stay," he said with finality, making her giggle.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," she mumbled apologetically, "But I think I should check in with everyone, especially Ginny. She'll have my head if she doesn't get a letter from me sometime today."
Remus wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, and interrupted her sentence with kisses, "I know. You're right. You should do that."
She laughed, smacking his shoulder lightly, "I can't very well get up if you won't let me go, now can I?"
"That is the idea, Hermione."
"Remus…" she chided him playfully, and he gave in.
"Alright, alright. Write your letters. I'll just try my hand at this television thing then."
Hermione climbed off his lap and went to her room to grab her things, before coming back to the living room and sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. First and foremost, she would have to write to Ginny. She leaned against the arm of the couch, bringing her feet up onto it, so that Remus couldn't catch a glimpse of what she was writing. After all, just checking in wouldn't be enough for Ginny, and rather than not hear the end of the witch's lecture, she decided to just spill the beans. If Hermione was entirely honest with herself, her own excitement at the new developments between her and Remus was enough incentive to write to her best friend. She was exploding with emotions and she needed to tell someone, so she began to write, one by one, to all her friends; Harry, the Weasleys, her assistant, McGonagall, off the top of her head. Remus flicked through the channels until he found a show where three men tested and talked about motor vehicles. Likely his attraction to them would have stemmed from Sirius. He watched the show with interest, glancing towards Hermione occasionally.
"What is that?"
She looked up at him, "What is what?"
"That thing you have in your hand."
"Oh! It's a fountain pen."
"Are you writing with it? I've read a lot about these pen things," Remus shifted nearer to her, and she nodded, "How does that work?"
"It's a muggle invention. It's like writing with a quill, except the ink bottle is smaller and it's inside the pen itself," she uncorked the top of the pen and showed him the cartridge of ink.
"May I try it?"
Hermione handed him a piece of parchment, and a spare pen, watching him as he wrote beautiful cursive words. She had always loved his handwriting, all loopy and intricate, almost like he was writing calligraphy. He looked up at her, grinning.
"This is brilliant! It's so much more efficient, and neat! I like the grip it's got; gives you a lot more control."
"Yeah, I like fountain pens because I like the way the ink looks on parchment, but I've also got these," she pulled some ballpoints out of her case and let him try those too. Hermione would have to remember to show him other muggle articles he might find useful, like a mobile phone perhaps. She watched him play around with the pens, intrigued at the way they worked, all the colors and sizes they came in.
"I like the fountain pen. I'll have to buy myself a few of these."
"Well, keep this one. We'll pick more up the next time we are out," Hermione let him keep the ink pen, taking the rest and putting them back in the case, "Remus, do think we should invite everyone over for dinner sometime soon?"
"I think that's a good idea. Molly will probably tell me off about keeping you hidden away so many days without a single letter, so let's not give her another reason to bite my head off."
"Oh God! Molly! She told me to write to her," Hermione rubbed her temples, worried about what the witch would say.
Remus chuckled, shaking his head, "Weasley women…"
Ginny walked out of the washroom, having changed into her night clothes, and crawled into bed next to Harry. He was sitting up, cleaning the lenses of his spectacles, when she pried them out of his fingers, and left them on the bedside table, forgotten. She climbed onto his lap, and gave him a soft kiss, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Okay, love?"
"Mmmhmm…"
"What's the matter Gin?" Harry looked down at his girlfriend in confusion.
"Just thinking about Hermione and Remus. He has lost so much in his life, and so has she; more than anyone our age should have. Her friends, her parents… Ron… I just don't want them to let their potential go to waste because they think they can't have this."
He kissed the top of her head comfortingly, "They won't. Don't worry."
"How can you say that so confidently?"
"Because…" he laid her down, and stretching out next to her, propped his head on his hand, "A cheeky little meddler named Ginny Weasley is involved. And I don't think she will let them waste anything." Harry tapped her nose lightly with his finger, and she grinned at him.
"Hey! I didn't do anything!"
"Gin, I know you better than that! Give me some credit, love!"
Ginny feigned innocence, letting out an exaggerated huff, "I didn't!"
"You didn't?" she shook her head and Harry raised his eyebrow at her, "You didn't deliberately ignore Hermione, and nudge her into that guy? Or tell the bar-"
"Okay so maybe I did a little thing! Heavens knows how long it would have taken one of them to say something if I hadn't. I mean, did you see how jealous Remus got?"
Harry laughed, nodding, "Yeah me, and the rest of the club."
"That girl better write to me soon, or I'll-"
He pulled Ginny closer to him and chuckled, letting his eyes close, "I bet that's exactly what Hermione's thinking right now too."
Hermione sealed off the last letter and added it to the pile on the side table next to her. She looked down to find Remus had dozed off. He had often hidden it, but the need for the smallest acts of affection showed most when he accidently let his guard down. She had seen it in the club, and she could see it now as his head lay nestled in her lap. She stroked his hair softly, and sat there for a few moments, giving him that affection he so desperately needed, before lifting his head lightly, and placing a pillow where she sat. She picked the letters off the table and, once she had sent them all, turned back to the living room to see Remus sitting up, yawning.
How do you look so good even when you're yawning?
Hermione walked over, and gathered her things, glancing over her shoulder to find him staring. She almost didn't know what to do with herself when he looked at her the way that he did. He stood up, stretching, and followed her, as they walked towards their rooms. She went into her own room, and put away her things, clearing up before she changed into her night clothes. But instead of getting into bed, she paced restlessly. She didn't know what would happen between them. Things had changed but where were they going? Was she supposed to say something? To do something?
Remus stood at the entrance of his room, door open, but unable to enter. It seemed empty and dark, and he knew exactly why. But then, she hadn't said anything. She had just gone back to her room. She was probably in bed by now.
You're the one who thinks you're such a traditionalist.
So why are you expecting her to make the moves?
He sighed, knowing full well that he was just trying to convince himself that she didn't want this, because he was afraid that she might turn him down.
You're not going to know until you try.
"Hermione?"
She heard him call out her name and rushed to the door, taking a deep breath and opening it as slowly as possible, "Yes?"
"Would you… like to sleep in my room?
She smiled, timidly, ever so slightly, and nodded. Remus held out his hand, and she put hers in it, letting him pull her out to him. He placed a small kiss on her nose, and led her into his room, which didn't seem as empty anymore.
Pulling his hood back, he sat down on a chair by the island, taking in his surroundings in peace.
Nice. Very nice house you have here.
He grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruits in front of him, and hopped off the bar stool, sauntering into the living room. It had been decorated well. But it definitely had a disgusting, mudblood touch to it. He had lived among them enough to know. Television. Kitchen appliances. Stretching out on the sofa, he twirled a pen in his fingers, smiling. It was almost too easy. He took a bite out of his apple, lifting himself off the sofa and walking about, studying the room. A lazy yawn escaped him, as he picked random things around the room, examining them. Content, or perhaps bored, he took a canister out of the bag he had veiled and hid under the couch when he had entered, cast a silencing charm around him, and began spraying it across the ceiling.
That should do….
He surveyed his work, and went to cap the canister before he paused, smiling deviously. Inspecting the furniture around him, he sprayed bits and pieces of it. Stuffing the spray can back in his bag, he picked it off the floor and made his way to the door, quietly letting himself out.
Heading out onto the street, the man pulled his hood onto his head, casting a shadow on his face, walking through a sea of people, none who could see the murderous glint in his eyes.
