16.

Hunter and prey

She took off her cloak, dropping it with less care than usual onto a blue velveteen armchair. She swayed a little under the heavy weight of emotions that coursed through her. The biggest largest and most wonderful emotion was glee. Guilty, delicious glee, as if she had just eaten the world's largest pastry. It outweighed all of the smaller emotions, so that for a moment, she was near tempted to run back to him, and give him that kiss. But at the same time, she was mortified about what she would say or do should she ever see him again.

Would she ever see him again? He would be well justified if he never looked at her again...maybe it was a good time to vanish completely? Curl up inside one of those cobra baskets and POOF! Hermione is gone, Ladies and Gentelmen! Maybe she could go the the United States.

Don't be silly, you can't run from it. Are you a Gryffindor or aren't you?

No. . .she would find him first thing in the morning and apologize. First,she would get a scroll, and write out what she wanted to say. Then she would memorize it. That was what she needed; something oraganized and routine; guarenteed to assist her when she confronted him. Perhaps he wouldn't be too angry, or hurt.

" If you ever see him again, you idiot!" she sighed at herself, and leaned against the bedpost in a moment of weary despair.

At that moment, her bedroom door, which had not been fully closed, was swung open with incredible force. She jumped as the knob stuck into the plaster wall.

" See who again?" demanded the all-too-familiar voice.

" Remus!"

" What a coincidence, because here he is." he said, and for a moment his voice had a smooth arrogance that would have rivaled that of Lucius Malfoy.

" What are you...doing" she breathed, taking a step backwards out of precaution, just as he took a long stride towards her.

" You left somehing behind, I though I would be a gentleman and return it."

" What- Oh!" she didn't have time to negotiate any farther. Remus pounced on her, in much the same way Crookshanks pounced on mice.Her eyes went wider. . .two large glistening brown orbs reflecting his tired face and shaggy hair. Giving him just the peek of his own evil grin before he dove downwards capturing her mouth.

She had received some kisses in her life, but there were kissers. . .and then there was Remus Lupin, werewolf.

It wasn't just her mouth, though he had wickedy invaded that hot velvet space, and was doing things with his long tongue that should have been against the law. But he also had her entire body pulled up against him, and she could feel. . . everything. The entire long, hard. . .line of him. His arms were locked around her, one around the softeness of her waist, the other across her shoulder so that one hand could hold her head. It was like being buckled to a tree with two iron straps. Harsh, bruising, and frighteningly exciting.

His fingers worked against her;five of them kneading into the sensitive and ticklish skin on her side; the other five running little trails of electricity from the bottom of her neck to the top of her head,massaging her scalp.

Gather all of those sensations together, along with the knowledge that the person whom you most want to be kissed by is,indeed, kissing you, and you have the most wonderful feeling of elation and glee in the world.

Suddenly she was being bent backwards, her hair falling loose from it's bun, and she clutched at his shirtsleeves to prevent herself from falling...or at least that is why she pretended to be clutching him at first.

He started to end the kiss, pulling away from her mouth, and leaving gently tugging kisses on her lips;but seeing that she was not yet breathless enough to not try talking, he plunged forward once more, causing her to make a muffled sound of exclamation into his mouth.

She now had her arms wrapped all of the way around his neck, and satisfied that she wouldn't slide to the ground he moved both hands up to cup hr head, allowing him to kiss her, if possible even harder, sucking her bottom lip in to his mouth where he tickled the edge with his tongue.

" Oh!" she mumbled against him, trying to press her body even closer to his, as she tentatively begin, at last, to return the caress.

Only then did he pull his head away, once again holding her too tightly for her to escape. He thought he did pretty well at pretending to not be breathless, even as he tried to look un-amazed at his own audacity. Finding only hazy disbelief in her cinnamon eyes, he began raining kisses along her cheeks and forehead, occasionally stopping to suckle her succulent lips, his hand roaming up the front of her body.

His creeping hand reached the neckline of her robe, and in a single move, he had his hand inside. She tried to give a squeal of disapproval, but his lips were sealed over hers to tight to allow her even a breath. She wriggled against the tickling sensation caused by the hairs on the back of his wrist, the surprising heat of his skin through her brassiere. He was tempted to stay and explore, but there was something he was searching for. Smiling triumphantly into her mouth, he yanked the wand out of her inside pocket and tossed it into the corner.

She blushed all of the way to her feet, and he felt a tremor run through her. Her hands feebly pushing against his shoulders even as she answered his kissing. He could almost believe she was trying to escape, yet at the same time there was a distinct aroma of desire; tangy and tantalizing, clouding around them.

Again she tried to push him back, just enough to allow her to speak, but his shoulders suddenly seemed so wide and solid, and her hands so slender and frail against him. Had he always been so. . .sturdy? She could feel the power coursing through him, transferring into her, warming her. She was both excited and terrified.And what was. . . THAT?

Oh goodness! That was really...IT. She was fascinated and suddenly very shy, wanting both to crane her neck down to see what was going on, and also to close her eyes and hope she would wake up. It felt, to be as delicate as possible, as if he had secured a sapling in his trousers. . .and she had the strangest feeling that it was not his wand.

Just as she was getting very interested, he released her and stepped back, towards the doorway.His eyes almost completely amber, and his chest rising and falling in a disturbingly erratic pattern.She immediately felt lonelier, and felt her heart stop as she looked at him. His gaze so intense, his shirt askew so that just the slightest touch of of his heaving chest could be seen. An iridescent sheen of perspiration glazed on his upper lip. She wante dhim back in her arms.

He turned. He was leaving! He had stared through her, taken a second look and decided he had made a mistake! She tried to call to him as he walked, head bowed, toward the bedroom. The only thing that escaped her throat was a hoarse whimper...and her felt were stupidly glued to the floor. It was like a bad dream, a nightmare, and she could not move because of the thick surreal gelatin of the air around her. She could only watch helplessly, as he walked away in slow motion.

But..you can't leave yet...I haven't told you that I love you...

The thought echoed, melancholy, throughout her as she watched his back.

I love you. I love you. . .