A/N: Teehee! I can't wait to see your reactions to this chapter.
xx-Kitten.
All I Remember
By Kittenshift17
CHAPTER SEVEN
Monday 12th November, 1979 – 2:54AM
Hermione's Flat, Diagon Alley
Hermione stared at him, wide eyed and slightly fearful when she realised he'd just caught her. The look in his eyes suggested he'd been there long enough to see what she was capable of, but he didn't speak. He'd propped his shoulder in the doorway, one ankle curled around the other and his arms folded over his bare chest.
"Did I wake you?" Hermione asked quietly, feeling awkward as she stared at him.
He'd obviously been in bed because at some stage, he'd discarded his shirt. He stood there in only his jeans, which were suspiciously undone, the button and fly open to reveal that he was commando beneath them. She could tell because the treasure trail of light brown hair was uninterrupted, thickening to a thatch of curls that peeked out where his jeans gaped open.
Merlin's little green apples, he would be the death of her!
"You warded the room," he replied, obviously not willing to admit that she'd silenced the room enough that anyone with normal human hearing wouldn't have been able to hear her training.
"I did," she agreed. She'd learned a long time ago that Remus didn't like to lie, but he wasn't above omitting the truth. His answer suggested that she should believe she couldn't have woken him thanks to her wards, but left it open enough that he couldn't be caught outright fibbing to her.
"You're good," he complimented. "One of the best I've ever seen outside of those who've completed Auror training. Certainly better than any of us, even Sirius."
"I don't know about that," Hermione said, blushing modestly.
"It's the truth. Not many people could take on three opponents at once for nigh on an hour without collapsing and without losing, Hermione," Remus told her.
Hermione would've blushed were her cheeks not still flushed from the exertion of her duel.
"I like to keep in shape," she offered.
"It shows."
"I didn't mean to disturb you. You've got to be up for your first day shortly, Remus. You should rest."
He tilted his head to one side, regarding her curiously.
"Why did you agree to drink with us?" he asked softly. "Why let us invade your flat and use your spare room – even share your bed – and commandeer your couch on your very first day in this place? You don't know any of us from Adam, outside of school, though none us remember ever seeing you. Yet, you let us in. You fed us. You made sure we'd be warm and safe, and that we had somewhere to sleep rather than risking splinching ourselves or Flooing to Merlin only knows where."
Hermione bit her lip, using the sleeve of her jumper to wipe her sweaty forehead.
"I'm just a nice person, I guess," she shrugged noncommittally.
"This goes beyond nice," he commented. "Most people wouldn't put up their close friends the way you've done tonight, Hermione. You met all of us, officially, today. Yet, here we are. James is snoring in your bed and likely drooling on your pillows. I know Sirius is drooling on the pillows in the spare. You didn't force us to shower, didn't fret over the idea of ruining your new couch by letting Peter sleep on it. You just fed us and went about your day as though accommodating us was your privilege. Why?"
Hermione shrugged.
"It's nice not to be alone," she told him. "This flat is much bigger than I thought it would be when I took it. I'd be rather lonely if I was here all by myself, don't you think?"
"So, you'd just put up any bunch of blokes you met on the street?" the suspicious werewolf asked, raising one eyebrow doubtfully.
"You're hardly strangers," she said softly, moving over to the door and thinking about having another cup of tea, or at the very least about grabbing a glass of water. "Just because you lot didn't know me, doesn't mean I don't know you. The perks of being invisible include the ability to observe people. Their habits; their likes; their personalities. I probably know more about the four of you than half the girls you bed."
Remus narrowed his eyes slightly as she moved to the door, meaning to push past him. He was blocking it, leaning that way, and he didn't look like he wanted to budge.
"We've ascertained that you're not a Death Eater, Hermione, but the way you act, the things you say and the way you duel certainly lend a certain something to the notion of there being more to you than you're letting on."
"Of course, there's more to me, Remus," Hermione smiled gently. "There's the fact that I like daffodils and sunflowers. And that my favourite colour is purple. And that I adore reading more than almost anything else in the world, save for one."
He raised his eyebrows, wanting to know what that one thing was. Hermione smiled, patting his shoulder lightly as she passed him to get a drink. He followed her, dogging her steps across the flat and into the cramped kitchen, where he blocked her in once more. He seemed to enjoy corralling her in places where she might have a hard time getting away, Hermione noticed.
"So, you just let us stay to keep from being alone?" he asked.
"What were you hoping I'd say, Remus?" Hermione asked, tipping her head to look at him as she fixed them both a cup of tea.
He eyed her warily for the return question.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Hermione grinned slyly. "Were you hoping to hear that I invited the lot of you back here hoping to get you alone when the others Floo'd home?"
Remus looked startled by the bluntness of her question, Moony and Remus both watching her from the depths of his eyes. He was intrigued, she thought mildly, pleased to know she'd managed to capture his attention for more than just being a potential Death Eater spy.
"If I were?" he challenged, far bolder in his youth than she recalled him being in middle-age.
Hermione smiled as she passed him a cup of tea made just the way he liked it.
"I'd probably tell you that it was a sound plot," she smiled. "It certainly crossed my mind. Especially when we were both in my bedroom."
Remus couldn't quite hide a grin at her admission. He tipped his head once more, sipping from his cup slowly as he regarded her over the rim. Hermione, in turn, drank in the sight of him. Gods, he seemed so young compared to the man she'd fallen for, but that was because he was. He was a little less self-conscious at this age than he'd been in middle-age, too.
Tracing her eyes over the wiry litheness of his torso, Hermione licked her lips. He'd always been thin, thanks to his ridiculously fast metabolism and a general lack of money to feed himself unless he ran the food down himself. Here, however, he was undoubtedly strong and well-fed but still limber. His chest was sparsely decorated with soft brown hair, barely visible, and his skin was dominated by scars.
Most of them, she recognised from seeing him shirtless in the time she'd left behind, but many of them were fresher scars, still pink instead of faded and pale with age. He made no effort to cover them. They were undoubtedly claw marks, self-inflicted wounds from the way he tore at his own flesh in his rage and frustration when he changed at the full moon. Some, she knew, were the result of the itchiness and pain the transformation caused. The rest were simply self-rage. He also bore a nasty looking bite mark – the most faded of his scars, on this right side on his stomach above his hip, it created a half-crescent across his abs and was mirrored on his back, should he turn around.
The wound where Fenrir Greyback had bitten him.
Hermione allowed her eyes to trace his form hungrily, aware that he was watching her assess him, and aware that he could likely smell her arousal as she did so. She didn't mind. If he knew she was hot for him, it would only help further her chances with him. When she let her eyes stray the length of his treasure trail to the hair poking out his still-undone jeans, Hermione was sure her knickers were wet, and she was certain Remus knew it.
He smirked knowingly when she met his gaze, seeming to approve when she didn't blush at being caught staring.
"You look at me like that, yet we both know you're not going to let me have you," he commented.
Hermione smiled crookedly in return. "Not tonight, I won't."
"If you know so much about the four of us, surely you're aware that I don't date?" he lifted one eyebrow.
"I know enough to take a stab at why you don't date, Remus Lupin," Hermione replied. "And I'm certain that, in time, you'll see your reason for it means nothing to me."
His eyes darkened and widened slightly at her words, his expression shifting from one of hunger to one of suspicion once more.
"You're a very strange witch, Hermione Granger," he commented.
Hermione shrugged unrepentantly, climbing up on the island bench to perch so she could continue to stare at him hungrily.
"You'll get used to me," she said. "Or you could, if you wanted to."
He narrowed his eyes on her. She could tell he was trying to figure out if she actually knew his secret, or if she was just being coy. She could tell he could probably smell the bite-mark on her shoulder, too, and she'd bet it was part of why he was so suspicious of her. She wasn't a werewolf, of course. But she'd been bitten by one, in human form. By him, in fact. Hermione had never told anyone, but the night Remus had turned up at Grimmauld Place when he'd learned Tonks was pregnant – trying to convince them that he should come Horcrux Hunting with them in his panic over the idea of impending fatherhood – he'd happened upon her in the kitchen.
She'd never told the boys, of course. She'd never told anyone. She'd been making tea for all of them and she hadn't heard Remus enter the house, despite the wards. The man was tricky with a wand when he needed to be and he'd been half out of his head with the approaching full moon and the stress he'd been under. He'd come up behind her in the kitchen, announcing himself by putting his hands on her hips from behind and pressing himself against her back.
The touch itself wasn't actually that unusual. Before he and Tonks had become an item – indeed, before Harry had arrived at Grimmauld Place in the summer before her fifth year, she'd learned that at certain times of the month, Remus craved physical intimacy. Not just in instances where he needed to get laid, but often when he just needed to touch someone, or press himself against someone.
Most often, he'd done it to Sirius, pressing his thigh to Sirius's at the table, or his arm to Sirius's when they stood side by side. Sometimes he'd sit close to the man in the library, dropping onto the couch right beside him and leaning against him. Sometimes, Hermione had learned that summer, Sirius wasn't enough. Sometimes he craved the touch of female flesh against his own. Maybe it was a scent thing, maybe it was some primal instinct that went deeper than that. The point was, he'd done it to her a number of times before that night when they'd been on the run.
He'd come up behind her, moulding himself against her back, sticking his nose into her hair and breathing in the feminine scent of her skin. He'd even pressed a collection of soft kisses against the skin where her neck met her shoulder, nosing aside the neckline of her shirt to get at her skin. She'd been able to feel his heart hammering out a rapid beat inside his chest and she knew she hadn't imagined the erection he'd ground against her bum. Hermione didn't recall speaking to him at the time, not even when he'd slipped hands - tipped with claws - under the hem of her shirt and caressed the taut flesh of her stomach. When she'd relaxed into the hold, tipping her head back to rest upon his shoulder and sighing as she let her imagination run away with her, he'd growled very softly, almost a purr. And then he'd fitted his teeth to that join at the base of her neck and the top of her shoulder, biting down hard enough to break the skin.
It should've hurt, Hermione had thought at the time, but it hadn't. It had felt good. Better than anything she'd felt up until that moment. In human form his bite couldn't do more than make her crave her steak a little rare and to lend her the benefit of slightly heightened senses. The touch alone had drawn a soft, mewling moan from her lips as her body had been abruptly thrust into orgasm from that single bite. She'd never spoken to Remus about it when it happened and hadn't had the chance to do so before he'd died.
The younger version she was ogling now could likely smell the bite on her skin, smell some part of himself upon her, and she suspected he wanted to know why. But she wasn't about to tell him unless he came out and admitted he was a werewolf.
"So where does that leave us?" Remus asked, still eyeing her curiously and like he'd enjoy ravishing her right there on the kitchen counter if she'd let him.
"I don't know," Hermione smiled at him. "You don't want to date. I don't want to shag you for one night and be forgotten by morning. I'd say it leaves us at something of an impasse, since I won't be shifting my notions of needing more than a cheap hook-up. Which, I suppose, leaves the quaffle in your Quidditch stadium. You figure out if the risk of dating me is worth the undeniable attraction between us coming to what I expect will be extremely satisfying fruition."
"You're not making this easy," he told her, looking slightly put out. "Though I find that I appreciate how frank you are about wanting me."
Hermione grinned. "I'm not a fan of miscommunication," she shrugged her shoulders. "And I hardly need to actually tell you verbally that I'm attracted to you. We both know that you already know, that you knew from the minute I ran into you in the street this morning. Why bother trying to deny the obvious?"
His mouth twisted at her words, his suspicions undoubtedly growing thanks to her assertions.
"What makes you think you'd want to spend more than one night with me, anyway?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. "How do you know I'm not rubbish in the sack?"
Hermione's peel of laughter caused Peter to stir on the couch, a squeak of terror leaving the blond wizard.
"I guess I'll just have to risk it," she grinned when Remus looked somewhat vindicated at her obvious amusement over such a notion. "Though, if you truly are rubbish, I'm sure I'd be up to the task of better educating you, Remus."
"Out of the generosity of your heart," he smirked.
"Out of pure selfishness," Hermione corrected, making him laugh.
"You really are an odd witch," he said. "But I find you strangely refreshing from the type of girls I'm used to."
"Because I bluntly inform you that I want your emotions in addition to your body?" Hermione asked. "Or because I smell, oh-so-sweet?"
Remus laughed at her question.
"Well, I wouldn't bank on the second one right now, love," Remus said, exaggerating a sniff in her direction, reminding her that she was sweaty from her training session.
Hermione blushed as she looked down at her clothing.
"Right. I should shower. Again. I won't have time in the morning if you lot are planning to shower before heading off," Hermione murmured.
"You'd let us all shower here, too?" Remus asked incredulously.
"I made lunch for all of you to take to work tomorrow, too," Hermione smiled. "I hope that's ok? If not, it's fine. I'll keep them for my own use, but they're there if you all want them."
Remus was shaking his head, giving her a puzzled little smile as though she were an enigma.
"I don't suppose that if I offered to take you to dinner on Friday night, you'd invite me into the shower with you?" he said rather than mentioning what she'd done.
Hermione felt a smile pull at the corners of her mouth.
"And risk being stood up?" she challenged. "We both know that if I let you have me tonight, I'll probably never see you again."
Remus looked mildly guilty for a moment. "You don't think I'd be true to my word?"
Hermione sighed softly, leaning back on her hands whilst sitting on the island bench.
"I think you're looking to get laid and that you labour under the delusion that the little sting of rejection now will save us both being desiccated in the long run. I think you believe you'd be doing me a favour by loving and leaving, rather than by hanging around long enough for either of us to become emotionally invested because you've got secrets that you think I can't handle."
Remus's eyes narrowed on her for her frank summation, but he didn't challenge the notion.
"That's a no, then?" he confirmed, trying to hide his disappointment.
"I'd think of it more like a challenge," Hermione smirked. "Prove me wrong."
"How am I supposed to do that if you won't let me join you in the shower?" he wanted to know.
Hermione smirked.
"Ask me to dinner for Friday night and find out, Remus."
He looked sceptical of the notion.
"Do you want to go out for dinner with me on Friday night?" he offered, looking suspicious when her smile grew even bigger.
"No," Hermione answered.
Remus's eyes widened, and his expression flashed with hurt and maybe a little annoyance, thinking she'd set him up just to let him down.
"I'm confused," he admitted gruffly, looking away from her when Peter made another squeaking sound from the couch.
"I don't want to go out for dinner," Hermione said. "I don't like social gatherings. I'm an introvert. I prefer to be away from loud, obnoxious people and I don't like big crowds."
"What are you doing spending time with the four of us, then?" Remus asked, looking amused. "And why ask me to ask you out if you were just going to turn me down."
"I don't want to go out for dinner," she smiled. "But I'd very much like it if you were to come over and have dinner with me here."
Remus's eyebrows lifted.
"You're inviting me back to your flat. When it will be just the two of us?" he confirmed.
"What's the matter Remus?" Hermione teased at his hesitant tone. "I promise I'm not the Big, Bad Wolf… though, I make no such pledges about biting, nibbling or even gobbling you up."
Remus's eyes went wide at her words.
"And if I'm the Big, Bad Wolf?" he asked softly, stalking closer with all the predatory grace of his lupine counterpart.
Hermione grinned wickedly.
"I have no objections to being eaten," she replied, and Remus's pupils blew wide with desire at her innuendos. He closed the distance between them, inserting his lean hips between her legs and scooting her forward upon the bench until her centre ground against the hot hardness of his body. One of his hands tangled in her curls, tipping her mouth up to receive the kiss he planted upon her lips.
She melted all over again, her own hand lifting to loop around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his sandy hair as she kissed him hungrily. Sweet Circe, he was delicious! He swallowed her mewl of delight, grinding himself against her and making her want to forget all about holding out on shagging him until she could hook his heart rather than just catching his eye. His tongue swept between her lips to stroke hers surely, tasting, touching, licking at hers as though he couldn't get enough of her and Hermione knew that there would never be another wizard for her.
She had to have him. She'd do anything to have him and she'd destroy anyone who ever tried to take him away from her. The possessiveness of her thoughts channelled into the hunger of her kiss as she snogged him back, laying claim to his lips and his tongue, wanting to keep them for herself for the rest of time. He squeezed her so tight she was sure to have bruises when both hands slid under the hem of her shirt, gripping her hips as he pulled her even closer. The prick of his claws against her flesh made him growl, but Hermione leaned into him harder, craving more, needing more.
Merlin, what she wouldn't give to let him ravish her until the ache in her chest of missing her friends and her family went away. What she wouldn't give to let him have her right then, secure in the knowledge that he'd be back for more just as soon as he caught his breath. But it was wishful thinking, she knew. If she let him shag her now, he'd be gone by dawn, slipping away to avoid the awkwardness of letting her down easy.
And she didn't doubt he was good at letting girls down easy, by now. She'd seen his easy let-down in action a hundred times with Tonks in the time she'd left behind, but that tenacious Hufflepuff had refused to give up, no matter the number of times he rejected her. Hermione was thinking she was going to have to do the same. They'd never been matched as a couple, anyway. Hermione knew Remus had only settled for Tonks because as much as he tried to push her away, he didn't want to be alone and his grief after losing Sirius had gotten the best of him. Tonks had taken advantage, making him feel wanted and loved and like he still had something left in the world to hang onto.
In this time, he still had all his friends. His mother might be gone, but he had his friends, he had his pride, and he had a nasty habit of walking out on girls who gave him the quick thrill he needed to keep the wolf leashed. Hermione knew she'd have to be tricky to win his heart. She'd have to be careful, too. And as much a she adored kissing him, she was going to have to dial it back or she'd end up impaled on his cock right there on the kitchen counter.
Pulling back slowly, Hermione moaned when he followed her, not wanting to release her. His lips tore from hers to torment the sweet spot below her ear, his tongue darting out to lap at the spot guaranteed to drive her wild and Hermione knew that, had she been standing, her knees would've buckled.
"You're not doing either of us any favours," she whimpered breathlessly, her whole body on fire with desire that she had to keep contained.
"I'll do you all the favours you want if you let me have you, Hermione," he replied huskily, his teeth nipping at her neck, being careful not to break the skin.
"That's a very open-ended bargain, Remus Lupin," she whispered, pushing against his shoulders to drive him back from her before she could do something she'd regret.
His eyes were threaded gold when he blinked them open to meet her gaze. Hermione's own gaze darted to his chest, were her fingers teased through the fine strands of chest hair upon his person, a shiver raking through her to be touching him so intimately despite the snog they'd just shared.
"You're stopping me," he said, his voice showing his disappointment.
"I gave you the terms of my surrender, Remus."
"Have dinner with you Friday?" he confirmed. "Or date you?"
"Both," Hermione smiled sweetly. "Now, I'm going to go and enjoy a shower – a cold one – by myself. And you are going to go on back to bed and think about whether or not you want to keep holding out on me, or whether pursuing this is worth it."
She slid off the counter, being sure to grind herself against his heavy erection as she did so, enjoying the way it drew a hungry growl from him.
"You're killing me, Granger," he whined softly when Hermione left her teacup on the sink and sauntered away down the hall, intent on showering. He trailed behind her, unabashedly admiring the view as she walked away.
"How much longer until you beg for your life?" Hermione asked, grinning over her shoulder when she reached the door to the bathroom.
"You barely even know me," he protested. "Why would you want to go out with me?"
Hermione smiled up at him, enjoying the expression of torment on his face.
"I like the way you laugh," she shrugged. "And that you're well-read. And you're pretty."
"I thought you said you prefer ruggedly handsome to pretty, otherwise you'd be sweet on Sirius."
"I did say that, didn't I?" Hermione grinned impishly, enjoying the way his eyes flared at little. Stretching up on her toes, Hermione pecked him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Remus."
She closed the door in his face when he looked tortured and like he might risk following her into the bathroom, just to push his luck. The sound of his forehead dropping against the closed door and his frustrated groan made her giggle as she pulled off her jumper and reached for the taps in the shower once more.
