Present
Remus woke with a pounding headache and a feeling of deja vu. Dawn was beginning to creep through the bedroom window, and the whole flat was bathed in an orange-gold glow. Remus sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes as they adjusted to the light. He suddenly realized he wasn't alone.
Hermione Granger lay beside him, her torrents of curls splayed across the pillow. Remus felt his stomach drop and all color flee his face. An entire range of emotions hit him: fear, confusion. . . guilt. Sighing, Remus dragged his fingers through his hair shakily.
"What did I do?" he whispered, taking in Hermione's form. She was sleeping peacefully, curled up on her side. She was wrapped in an oversized flannel shirt. Her feet poked out from under the blanket, and he noticed the hem of her skinny jeans. His head gave a throb, and he tried to piece together what he remembered.
Fragmented images flashed through his head. His hands cupping her face. Pressing his lips against hers. Gripping her tightly against him. Trailing kisses up her neck. His fingers fumbling with buttons.
"Oh God," he said, burying his face in his hands. Quickly he pulled his discarded T-shirt over his head and ran from the flat.
Present
Hermione sighed peacefully, stretched, and rolled over. Her arm reached out into cold, empty sheets, and she was suddenly very awake. She sat up and examined the flat through bleary eyes.
"Remus?" she called into the empty flat.
Past
Hermione pressed her lips against his, and Remus felt himself let go. He tightened his arms around her waist, reveling in the feel of her body pressed against him and enjoying the gentle caress of her lips. She tasted like Earl Grey tea.
He pulled away, gently nipping at her neck, and growled as he lifted her up, grabbing her ass as she wrapped her legs around his thin waist.
Quickly, he carried her the short distance to the kitchen table. Knocking stacks of paperwork to the floor, he placed her on it, moving his kisses down her neck to her collarbone. Clumsily, hurriedly, he began unbuttoning Hermione's flannel shirt, revealing a low-cut black tank top; he trailed kisses across her shoulder and down her chest as he pulled her flannel shirt off her shoulders, relishing Hermione's small gasps as he tasted more and more of her skin.
Past
Hermione's hands were fisted into Remus' graying hair, and she could feel his five o'clock shadow scrape across her neck as he hungrily savored her skin. She shivered as his hands explored her skin fervently, reaching underneath her tank top.
"Remus," she moaned throatily as he trailed his lips across her neck. He mumbled against her throat in agreement, sending a vibrating sensation down her spine.
"No, Remus, wait," she heard herself saying. As much as she objected to her own objection, reason began to flood back to her. "Remus, we can't."
Grabbing her face and looking into her eyes, Remus replied emphatically, "Yes, we can. Shut up and take off your clothes."
Present
Remus was shocked by the cold October air, but it was a welcome distraction from his steamy memories. In a T-shirt and jeans, he was dressed for a warm May afternoon, and he shivered in the late-October air. He wandered aimlessly down the London street, crunching leaves on cobblestones and vaguely noticing the Halloween decorations.
The combination of a wicked hangover and crushing guilt had left him feeling nauseous and shaky.
"What are you running from?" asked a voice behind him.
He turned to see Dora, pink-haired and smirking.
"Leave it alone, Dora," Remus replied, turning away from her and walking faster.
She caught up to him in a few steps. "You would somehow manage to make this a bad thing, wouldn't you? God forbid you were to let yourself be happy."
Grabbing Dora's arm, Remus stared into her eyes and replied, "You make me happy."
"Oh, Remus," Dora stroked the side of Remus's cheek and pushed the hair from his eyes. "But I'm dead."
Past
Hermione felt her whole body quiver with excitement, and in one swift movement, Remus pulled her tank top over her head. He traced her sides with his fingertips while taking in the rest of her.
Kissing her softly, he whispered, "Anyway, I'd hate to stop when you seem to be enjoying yourself."
His passionate attention moved down her neck gently until his delicate kisses caressed her collarbone. "You have no idea how much I want this," he said before carefully sliding her bra strap off of her shoulder.
Hermione gasped and attempted to regain control of herself.
"Remus," she repeated, seeking to stop him, but she moaned her objection involuntarily. Clearing her throat, "Remus, we have to stop," she managed a serious tone.
"God, I want you," he whispered hot breath against the soft skin of her chest.
Hermione felt an intense shiver up her spine, and she inhaled sharply before saying, "I just think this is all happening too fast. You need time. You're drunk, you've just jumped ten years into the future, and your wife . . .Remus, what about Tonks?"