I lift my head from her breasts. She looks so beautiful like this, her hands attached to the wall so I can take care of her, pleasure her, show her how beautiful she is to me. Her pupils dilated, her lips swollen and red reminding me of ripe sweet strawberries. Her eyes half-lidded, her legs around my waist, her creamy thighs on display. She is even better than I ever could have ever imagined: intelligent, opinionated, strong-willed, brave, compassionate, intense. I never realized until this evening how much she hides her inner fire, how she pulls back probably because most people can't handle her and they tell her so. I would give anything to be consumed by it, to be indelibly marked as hers. The more I know about her, the more beautiful she becomes, she is the epitome of beauty, the zenith of perfection.

She closes her eyes. She looks more relaxed than I have ever seen her. She seems to like it when I initiate touch between us. I gently touch her collarbone and jaw and watch her body lean into my touch. I love how responsive she is to every touch, every kiss. I love how deeply she feels everything. God help me, I love her, more than I've loved any other woman, even Dora. This realization feels too raw, too heavy to contain inside me. I can't help but sigh.

I look at her, her eyes still closed, her back arched, me between her legs, her arms attached to the walls. I just wanted to give her what she deserved, appreciation and gentle touches and here I am being rough with her. It pains me that I can't even control myself with her. She tempts me even when she breathes. "Sorry, I got carried away."

I watch her arms slide down the wall. Her wrists are slightly red. I grab her wrists and rub them soothingly. I take perverse pleasure looking at all the marks I've left on her neck, chests and wrists.

She sighs softly and I feel a surge of pride that she wears marks from my mouth on her flesh. I will kill any man who touches her.

She opens her eyes and stares into mine and gasps in surprise or was it disgust at what she sees there. Confusion and hurt fill my mind. Maybe she doesn't want me in all the ways I want her.

"Your eyes, they're yellow".

My eyes have never been yellow when I was human. I've also never felt this possessive or dominant with a woman before tonight. How much is my wolf influencing my actions? I need to get away from Hermione in order to think. I can't think or reason or do anything when I am looking at her. I turn my face and body away from her with difficulty. Why does my wolf always have to ruin everything? I use all my strength just to remain still, to not push her panties to the side and thrust my cock hard inside her, to take her with all the force of my desire.

I feel her pull her wrists out of my hands. I guess this is it then. My wolf probably scared her. Especially when I think about the fact that she saw me as a wolf with yellow eyes back in third year. Of course, my eyes would scare her, frighten her. Then I feel her soft hands touching my face trying to turn me back toward her. I feel her tighten her legs around my waist as though she doesn't want to let me go.

"I just made an observation, nothing more. Please don't shut me out or pull away from me".

Her voice is so soft and meek. I feel some of the tension in my body dissolve and I sigh. I am under her power, her voice alone controls me. I need her so bad, especially now that I know that she desires me as well. She could break me so easily, break my heart and spirit. I feel a deep fear of her power over me. It would be so easy to lose myself in her. To bury my cock and my heart so deep inside her that I could never escape.

One of her hands then rubs my beard stubble and I lean into her touch. I haven't been touched like this in so long. It feels so good to have her hands on me. Her other hand lightly traces one of my most visible facial scars. I flinch violently. Most people look at my scars with either pity if they don't know I'm a werewolf or disgust if they do. Only a handful of people have ever touched my scars usually for medical purposes or curiosity.

Then I watch as she leans forward, slowly kissing the places her finger traced. She is the only person who has ever kissed my scars. Her soft lips touch them with reverence. I gasp at how good it feels when her lips touch my unscarred skin. How can she do this, how can she look at me and not be disgusted at what she sees? I wish I could be the handsome man she deserves.

"I'm not afraid of what you are Remus. You being a werewolf and having scars doesn't stop you from being attractive or someone I am honored to know. Your scars are beautiful."

"Beautiful?" I can't even hide the disgust in my voice. Scars aren't beautiful, they aren't nice or anything. I think I realize what makes Hermione different than other people… she's certifiably insane. No one in their right mind would think scars are beautiful.

"Yes, beautiful. We all carry scars, darling, even if they are not always on display. Scars are a reminder to us and proof to others that we have lived a full life, that we have experienced pain and loss and have triumphed. You have more scars than anyone I have ever met and yet you are the most person I know. To be here with you now, to know that you have chosen me above all others is a gift that has a meaning I can never adequately express, that can never be repaid. See."

She holds her arm in front of my face and I see a scar slowly reveal itself. A jagged scar covering almost an entire side of her forearm that proclaims 'mudblood'.

My heart breaks for her. Who did this to her, who marred her flesh? When I found out who I am going to rend them limb from limb, break their body, quarter them… they will beg for death long before I finish torturing them. How could anyone hurt her, the kindest person I've ever met? I need to calm myself down, I don't want to scare her.

"When and who did this to you?"

"Greyback and the Snatchers caught us as we were searching for horcruxes and brought us to Malfoy Manor where Bellatrix then tortured me, left this on my arm to remember her by and then killed Dobby".

Her voice is calm and neutral, I watch as her eyes fill with unshed tears. She suffered more than most during the war. Neither she, Harry or Ron had ever told anyone in the order about Hermione being tortured. I nuzzle her face with my cheeks. My heart feels with sadness at everything she lost and sacrificed for all of us.

"If scars are so beautiful, then why do you hide yours?"

Holy hell, why did I just ask that? I should have sense enough not to ask her something like that.

"Harry blames himself, namely because by saying the name 'Voldemort', he alerted the snatchers to our position. Both Harry and Ron heard my screams while they were trapped in the basement unable to help me and I know how much it bothers them. Everyone in the war lost things, and these scars are a direct reminder of the irrational hatred that turns neighbor against neighbor and friend against friend. I just don't want to hurt anyone by reminding them of things they would rather forget. Their grief is too fresh and too raw."

"Why did you hide them from me?"

The words slip out before I can stop them. She was willing to sacrifice herself in order to protect the feelings of other people. What was it about me that made her feel that she had to protect me?

"I hid them from you because I didn't want to burden you. Besides, how could I show my scars to someone who is so repulsed by his own that he hates them and himself?"

"Touchè"

Damn she got me there. Since I hated my scars so much, why would she feel comfortable showing me hers? My heart filled with sadness. I don't deserve her.

"Remus, don't be sad. Scars or no scars you're a hell of a lot better than most people get. I'm blessed to be here with you now and wouldn't trade it for anything in the world."

I feel a wetness on my cheek. Her beauty takes my breath away and makes me cry apparently. I close my eyes to her. How can she bare to look at me?

I feel her hands touching my face. Her fingers rubbing across my cheeks. Then I feel her lips softly on mine. It surprises me that she would kiss me now. Her lips leave mine and I open my eyes. I resolve myself to see the world from her eyes. To make this all about her and what she needs. She is always so busy taking care of everyone else… it is my job to take care of her.

I grab her arm and slowly bring it to my lips. Watching her pupils dilate as I slowly begin to kiss her scar. I allow my lips to linger on her soft skin. I watch her shiver at my touch.

"Cold?"

She giggles. The sound is so delightful I can't contain my smile. She is so cute and adorable.

"How could I be cold when a handsome man is kissing me?"
I laugh hard. I can't contain my laughter. I am so happy, despite everything she still wants me.

"I love when you laugh like that. I demand that you do it more often in my presence, Mr. Lupin."

"I love how bossy you are."

And I do. I just love her, all of her.