Happy Sunday!
I can't really comment on anyone's reactions to the last couple of chapters because there...wasn't really any. For the people that did review, thank you SO much, I appreciate it endlessly x
The petty side of me wasn't going to update today because of it, but I figured that was petulant and silly of me, and so, here we go. This chapter is basically pure smut, and I regret nothing.
I have a couple more chapters already pre-written, so if I can find time then I should post them all this upcoming week.
Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Please.
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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.
As always for Sable and Lais xxx
Sunday, September 9th, 1979
Potter Manor
Remus affectionately watches Hermione sway as she ascends the staircase, and he can't help smiling when she peers over her shoulder, face alight with mirth, and cheeks pink from all the Elf wine. Hermione blows him a kiss before giggling and sprinting up the rest of the staircase.
Hermione pauses at the top, throwing her hands out to the sides before in a tantalizingly low voice she says, "are you coming or not?"
She doesn't have to ask twice, and as she breaks out into a light jog towards the bedrooms, he swiftly chases after her. The wizard catches her around the waist, and spins her around in his arms before backing her up against the wall beside Sirius's room. (The animagus is still downstairs, happily letting Lily French braid his hair; the rest of their friends are also still downstairs, merrily drinking themselves silly. With the exception of Ron and Regulus, who'd both insisted they help Mipsy clean up after dinner.)
Remus gazes down at his witch, at her flushed face, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and at the crinkles around her mouth from the giddy smile splayed across her features. Hermione's eyes melt into a honeyed coppery colour, and by her reaction, he senses that his eyes have also shifted.
"You caught me," Hermione says breathlessly, her hands fisting the material of the front of his oxford blue jumper around his midsection.
Moony has woken up, and is insistently urging him to take what is so clearly being offered. Remus doesn't know if it's the lingering effects of the Full Moon that have gripped him so fiercely, but he wants to give in. He wants her to be his, all his.
Since their first time over a month ago, Remus has been holding himself back. He doesn't quite trust himself. He doesn't know if he'll be able to resist sinking his teeth into her hip and sealing their mate bond. He was so close to doing it last time, so close.
So, in spite of Hermione's constant assurances that she's ready, they had yet to take that next step, because he hadn't been ready. He didn't wish to rush it.
Something in him seems to have shifted, because now, all he can think about is how nice she feels in his arms, and how her delightful smell is engulfing him. Hermione Granger's smell is piquant and he drowns in it every time.
Hermione hikes a leg up and around his waist, using the heel of her foot to bring him closer to her, and from her wicked grin, she obviously can see the effect she is having on him.
Caramel and vanilla, the smell is so potent now, it borders on being sickly sweet, and it consumes him whole.
"Hermione," Remus whispers, pressing their foreheads together, his hands ghosting over her curves and up along her body until they come to rest on her cheeks. "Are you sure? You can't take it back."
"Yes, Remus. A million times over, yes. Yes. Yes. Yes," Hermione breathes, and with her giddy smile is back as she pulls him down to her level by his jumper, her lips a hair's breadth away from his.
"Hermione—"
Hermione doesn't let him get out another word, because she presses her lips to his and suddenly all protestations madly flee his mind.
Remus has no idea if he lifted her, or if she jumped, but the next thing he knows, her legs are securely fastened around his waist, and he has her fully pressed up against the wall. The air is crackling around them, magic building as if it realises what they are about to do; it is as if a star is about to explode, and there are sparks dancing across his skin as they share rough, eager kisses. Remus's hands are everywhere, whilst Hermione's have found their way into his hair.
Remus breaks the kiss, panting heavily, and he almost loses all semblance of control he has when her tongue languidly swipes across her swollen bottom lip. He is so screwed. Though, he supposes he's been screwed since the moment he laid eyes on her.
What a shame it would have been if the Golden trio had never arrived in their dimension, because he would never have felt this. Sirius would tease him mercilessly if Remus ever utters that thought aloud, but frankly, he doesn't give a flying fuck.
Hermione's oversized jumper slips off her right shoulder, exposing her silvery pink scar from when they sealed the pack bond, and for some reason, Remus feels both guilty and aroused.
"You sure you want to do this when you've been downing Elf wine all evening?" Remus asks softly, and Hermione snorts loudly, tugging on his messy sandy blond hair (she is wholly and solely responsible for it being in such a disorderly state).
"Remus Lupin. I want all of you. It's like you're convinced that I'm going to vanish one day, but I'm not," Hermione frowns, her bottom lip jutting out a bit as she begins to sulk.
"You did appear out of thin air," Remus reminds her. "Who is to say that unknown force won't take you away again?"
Hermione growls loudly, one of her hands sliding down to wrap itself around his neck, the other travels to firmly but not unkindly grip his chin, "I'd like to see it fucking try. We're here to stay, and if it doesn't like that, then it can fuck off."
It is like some tight ball unravels itself inside of him, as if a dam of pressure inside of him simply releases. It is as if a rather large bloke had situated himself on top of Remus's heart, and has finally decided to vacate the premises.
Something tells him it is all going to be okay, and he lets go. He simply lets go.
Remus wraps his arms around her waist, and presses a lingering and searing kiss to her lips. Not here, a voice in the back of his head quips. Remus reluctantly removes one hand from his witch, and lifts them both off of the wall.
Hermione seems to read his mind, and her legs fall from around his waist, but her lips never leave his as she begins to walk them backwards to his room.
Hermione shoves Remus up against his bedroom door, and the witch and wizard are a mess of breathless laughter whilst his hand fumbles about for a moment as he finds the doorknob. They stumble into the room, and Hermione almost trips over herself in the process.
They break apart long enough for Hermione to close the door back behind them, and to throw up silencing and locking charms.
Remus and Hermione stand a few feet apart, and everything stops. Hermione's curls are an untameable, wild thing, there's a pretty blush on her cheeks illuminated by the waning moon, but her eyes are glowing, like molten copper.
They surge toward each other, and they cannot divulge each other of their clothes fast enough; Remus tosses Hermione's jumper over his shoulder and it knocks an extinguished candle off of his bedside table. They both freeze, they glance at the candle, and then back at each other. Simultaneously they erupt into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
As their laughter dies, they properly look at one another again. Remus reaches back and pulls his jumper up and off of him, dropping it on the ground beside him.
Hermione slips out of her trousers, letting the fabric pool around her feet for a moment before she steps out of them, and kicks them to the side.
"Remus Lupin," Hermione murmurs, taking a small step towards him, her hair falling forward and partially obscuring her face. Remus brushes it away, closing the distance between them. The werewolf encircles her waist, tugs her up against him, and buries his face in the side of her neck, drinking in her intoxicating scent whilst placing feathery, open-mouth kisses against her flesh.
"Hermione," Remus moans, a hand travelling down her supple body until it found itself at the apex of her thighs, and his fingers lightly dance across her clothed centre.
A light gasp escapes her lips, and her hands rake across his back and she shivers in anticipation. It truly has been far too long. Hermione's head falls back as his fingers slip beneath the black lace and slowly ease inside her.
"Remus," Hermione gasps, raising her head as to gaze up at him, her eyes flickering with flecks of glistening honey as his fingers begin to move. Her lips part, and her nails dig into his bared skin.
"That's it, sweetness. Call my name," Remus says with a whisper of a smile, revelling in watching her come undone. Hermione's breath hitches.
Remus removes his fingers from her, just long enough to lower them both to the ground. He holds her as if she is fragile fine chinaware, all whilst knowing in reality she is a Hungarian Horntail.
The werewolf slides himself down her body until his lips hover over her hip. Hermione lifts her head to look at him as his teeth bite down on the fabric on her hip. With one hand and his teeth, he tugs the affronting lacy fabric down her legs—stopping just past her knees.
Hermione helps work them the rest of the way off, and her hands bury themselves in his hair as he lifts her legs, parts them, and puts them over his shoulders as he settles in between them.
"Remus—" Hermione finds herself as a loss for words, watching as if under some sort of entrancing spell as he presses gentle kisses to her inner thigh; the entire time his eyes are firmly set on her face.
"You're so beautiful, sweetness," Remus murmurs against her skin, and heat races through her veins as shivers slither up her spine.
Hermione's mouth opens as she formulates her thoughts, lining them up in a logical progression of some kind, when his mouth finds her centre.
All words instantly flee her mind like fear-gripped innocents stampeding away from an imminent threat or something terribly frightening.
Remus laps at her cunt, and her thighs squeeze around his head, and her back arches. Hermione's chest begins to rise and fall rapidly.
She is coming undone under his careful attention, and she about loses it when his hand finds her clit.
"Remus," Hermione moans, but there is a sharp edge to her breathy vocalisation. She tugs his head up by his hair, and catches sight of the wizard licking her juices off of his lips. His tongue flicks back and forth over his lip ring.
Remus shifts her legs so that he can crawl up her body, and his own eyes are golden pools heavily sprinkled with amber.
He pauses by her ribcage, feathering his lips over her skin, and he nudges the side of her breast with his nose before he nips at the supple flesh.
Hermione's hand moves down until she is gripping his member through his navy blue boxers—the only stitch of clothing left on him. Hermione smirks arrogantly as he freezes, his head falling into the valley of her breasts as she strokes him torturously slow. Remus wishes nothing more in that moment than to bury his cock in her, but uses every ounce of control that he has to resist said urge.
"Hermione," Remus gasps against her skin, and without hesitation he shifts so that his mouth latches onto one of her taut nipples, and Hermione stops moving entirely as she arches into him.
Remus doesn't hesitate to divulge himself of his boxers, and Hermione's fingers find purchase in his hair once more to pull his head up, so that she can roughly claim his lips.
Remus uses one of his hands to grasp his aching cock and tease the tip in between Hermione's wet folds. The wizard breaks their kiss, and everything stops for a moment, and the only sounds that fill the room are their breathy pants. "You sure you want this? There's no going back. You'll be stuck with me forever. We'll be bonded for life," Remus murmurs, brow drawn together, propped up on one forearm whilst his other hand is still grasping his cock.
Hermione's hands slide down from his hair to cradle his face, and her thumbs tenderly stroke his cheeks, "good. I can't imagine anything better."
"You mean your magical core being entwined with that of a big, bad werewolf?" Remus jokes, stealing a quick kiss. He leans back just enough so that they can look each other in the eye properly.
"You're more of a puppy than a big, bad werewolf," Hermione responds playfully, and Remus's eyebrows shoot upwards.
"Is that a challenge?" Remus asks, and the corners of Hermione's lips turn downward slightly as she shrugs.
"And if it is?"
"Then I'll have to prove you wrong," Remus answers, and without another moment's hesitation, he slides into her wet heat.
Hermione's eyes widen as her head falls back, and her hands grip his face with such ferocity that it draws a low growl from his throat.
They fit together as if their bodies were designed for each other, and he supposes, in a funny way, they are. In that moment Moony howls ardently, as if saying finally. It had been far too long since he had been inside his witch, his mate; all because of groundless doubts and insecurities.
All of his worries fade, and the air scorches and crackles around them as he begins to thrust in and out of her. Hermione's legs secure themselves around his waist, and she forcefully pulls his face down to hers so that her lips find his.
Their kisses are frantic, and breathy as they devour each other, as if at any moment the other will vanish into thin air. A bead of sweat slides down Remus's face, only to pool on his chin before falling onto the swell of her breast.
Remus is almost positive that Hermione has broken the skin on his back as her nails drag down it. He doesn't linger on that thought as he is working more on pure instinct right now, his hips snapping wildly to an almost uneven rhythm—but a rhythm that Hermione is matching stroke for stroke.
She is a breath-taking sight with her wild curls spread out on the floor under her.
Remus secures his arms under her back, and with a swift motion—and she makes a gasp in surprise—he pulls them both upright; his legs spreading slightly in order to balance properly as he hugs her to him.
Remus halts all movement, and Hermione wraps her arms around his neck, "I love you, Remus Lupin," Hermione whispers against his cheek before she peppers the side of his face with gentle kisses. The witch begins to move against him, but he is still as stone.
There is nothing gentle about the way he pushes her onto her back once more, or the way he uses one hand to secure both of her wrists above her head.
"No going back," Remus breathes.
"No going back," Hermione repeats, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her inner walls clench around his cock, and that's it.
Remus's hips snap upwards, and he watches himself piston in and out of her, and almost loses it. It's pure, raw instinct that drives them both, and soon they are rutting against each other like wild animals, and he is so close. Before he truly understands what is happening, Moony is screaming in his head, now!
It is a blur as Remus releases Hermione's arms and his mouth lowers to her right hip. Remus's can hear his galloping heartbeat, he can hear Hermione's racing, and his tongue darts out of his mouth to taste her salty skin, and caramel and vanilla is simply everywhere.
In a daze his lips part, and ever so slowly, his teeth sink into her hip. Electricity shoots from her body, straight into his teeth, and it sets his nerves on fire, and Hermione's walls tightening around him draws his release from him, and he spills into her. Yet, he doesn't remove his teeth.
There is a river of molten lava flowing through his veins.
Hermione's hand has found her clit, and soon she too is tumbling over the edge. Then, and only then does he remove his mouth from her skin, pausing to lick away some of blood that is trickling from her wound. (He doesn't even realise he did that until the metallic, tangy taste swirls around his mouth.)
When he straightens up once more, he realises Hermione is glowing. There is a golden aura encompassing her, and suddenly he is violently gripped up an intangible force. An invisible hand sews their magical cores together, piercing straight through them and moving back and forth as it cements their bond. The golden strings that bind them are present before their eyes, and they grow increasingly taut by the moment, tightening almost to the point of terrible agony and anguish. Simultaneously, it is as if he has been wretched from his body and is floating light as a cloud above it.
If it felt like a star was going to explode before, they are now in the aftermath of a cosmic explosion.
In that moment all of their other bonds are also evident, their strings travelling in different directions and disappearing through the walls.
Mesmerised, Remus watches as one of Hermione's strings burns white, so bright that it hurts to look at it, but he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on it. He feels the exact moment that the hierarchy in the pack changes, namely, the moment Hermione becomes Remus's official second.
A shroud of tingles crawl upwards from the base of his skull to the centre of his forehead, and he can sense the other pack members becoming aware of Hermione's new position.
Then, Remus finds another string being attached to him, a string that extends to two others aside from him and his witch. It is nothing like anything he has ever felt before, and he doesn't know what to call it, but he instantly knows that it formerly belonged solely to Hermione, Ron and Harry.
Hermione's glow begins to dull, and he feels more corporeal, less like an insubstantial mist or apparition.
"Fuck," Remus manages, and Hermione makes a humming sound as she raises her hands to her face, and presses the heels of her palms into her eyes.
A lazy grin grows on her face, and there is a buoyant quality to her tone as she says, "you're stuck with me now."
Remus chuckles softly as he lays himself across her, his cheek coming to rest in the centre of her chest.
There are no words to express his emotions. There is just calm and unwavering certainty. All doubts have been washed away.
The scalding feeling that had priorly burst in his chest has eased to a comfortable warmth.
Remus listens to her heartbeat slow from a gallop, to a canter and then to a steady, sure pace.
"It's a good thing I'm taking the contraception potion," Hermione says after a time, and Remus stiffens; contraception had completely slipped his mind, and he mentally curses himself over it. On the other hand he can sense Moony's mild displeasure at the same situation. However, the wolf is pacified—for now at least—by the fact that their mate bond is sealed.
The thought briefly crosses his mind that he and Hermione are essentially married now, but he dismisses it; that's something to think about later.
"Remus," Hermione says, her hands loosely resting on his bicep, and her index finger lightly taps an errant beat against his skin.
"Yes, love," Remus asks, shifting his head to peer up at her.
"I'm scared—about the war I mean." From here he can see her gnawing on her bottom lip, but he can't find the words to voice a response to that.
It is then that he becomes aware of a new development—he can feel her fear as if it is his own. There will definitely be an adjustment period necessary for that; he'd been able to feel extreme emotions through his bonds before, but nothing even remotely like this.
"This time is far worse than the first…I know what the stakes are, I've seen what can happen…we lost so many people…so many. I also have so much more to lose—" Hermione's voice breaks, and that's when Remus readjusts himself so that he is looking her directly in the eye.
There are fat tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes, intermingling with the remnants of the perspiration on her skin, Remus wordlessly kisses them away, and lovingly his hands move to cup her face.
There are no words of comfort that will ever be enough, so he pours whatever reassuring feelings and all the love he can into their bond, and wipes away her tears and kisses her soundly. Remus can make no promises of the future, as much as he desperately wishes to. So, instead he kisses his witch, and holds her tightly in his arms. Eventually they retire to the actual bed, and before long they slip into the land of dreams; entangled in each other's arms.
Remus falls asleep with one idea firmly rooted in his mind: he can make no promises for the future, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try until his dying breath to save everyone he loves.
What neither of them knew in that moment, was that things were about to get a lot more complicated.
