1"Behind Closed Doors" By Meg
I don't own Harry Potter…I simply enjoy using the characters conjured up J.K. Rowling for my own sweet pleasure.
Pairing: Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Mystery man (okay, the cat's outta the bag. It's Remus.)
A/N: I usually write chapters to songs, and I feel that listening to the song helps to better feel the flow that the song has established, so...from now on, I will list the song below.
Song: Bittersweet symphony by The Verve, Donnie Darko Soundtrack (#'s 4,7,10,12)
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She stood with the side of her face pressed against the warm wood of his door. She's rested there for a moment, listening to the noises he made from within his room. He whole body was pressed against the maple door, like she wanted to be pressed against his body. She was terrified to go in. She feared the door knob might electrocute her, should she try to turn it.
She heard the bed frame creek as he sat down upon it, sighing in mixed sadness and desperation.
She felt his pain like it was her own, and it was her own in some manner. She wanted so much to throw the door open and plaster her body against his, to yank his clothing from his body and to demonstrate exactly how much she had missed him. How much she craved him. How much she needed him.
She eased the door open, trying to quiet the wood-on-wood noise that crept out from the sticking of the old, warped door. She expected to see his figure on the bed, back turned to her, still gazing out the window. She never expected him to be right beyond the swing of the door, face expressionless and eyes filled with nothing.
"Hello..." He whispered.
She swallowed in her dry throat, and chose not to speak. She let the door close behind her. She stood, barefooted, with her heavy heels in her hand. She let them drop to the floor with a loud, resounding, clank. He took a step forward and grasped up her still outstretched fingers.
"Oh, whatever are we to do, 'Mione?" He asked as he kissed the softness that was her hands. She let him run her fingers across his lips without complaint. "This can never really be..."
Something strange had come over her, it washed up her body like a coolness she had never felt. She felt as though her concerns peeled off, like an extra layer of skin. And as she molted these false feelings, she felt renewed. Her eyes glistened with her newly found sense of abandon.
"For now, Remus, it can." She whispered, faintly louder than the beating of her heart. "Please...,"
She inched towards him, hazel eyes focused on her bare feet, and looked up at him with a wicked smile. "Stop talking." She finished.
She placed her left hand on his chest, her wedding ring missing. She slid it up the soft fabric of his shirt, and let it come to rest in the crook of his neck, fingers idly curling the hairs that adorned the back of his neck. She tilted her head back, just enough to look him in the eyes.
"This is what you want, isn't it?" She asked, tone ironically childlike. Before he could reply, her lips were on his own, and the pressure was delightful. Her subtly moist lips were soft and inviting, like her flesh. He parted her lips and tasted her nectarous mouth, tongue lapping at her own in mild amusement.
She pulled away from him, taking the kiss with her, as she back to the door. He thought she made to leave, to run away and he wouldn't allow it. He backed with her, the kiss growing more forceful with each step.
"No...you...don't..." He murmured as their lips parted briefly for air. He entangled a hand in her tawny locks of thick hair, holding her against his body without mercy. Her refusal had gone with her worries in the moments before. She knew that when she had turned the knob to enter the room, she had already gone a step too far. She would never be able to refuse him once she had seen his eyes, so loving, and entirely focused on her own eyes.
Something was different about the way that Remus looked at her. He had never been like other men, whose eyes always drifted to her curves, her breasts or nether regions. He never looked at her like a sexual object, or a woman, really. He could peer past the earthly pleasures she could provide. He saw her as another soul. Their souls danced in recognition as he pressed her against the door, bodies molding into familiar forms.
She withheld nothing from him. She nibbled at his lips and let the kiss drift to his neck. She suckled at the prickly skin below his jaw-line, nipped at his jugular (which drew low moans from his throat) and latched on to the place where his shoulder and neck met. Her nearly vampiric kiss made him remember what had drawn him to her, all those years past.
He could wait no longer, his body was screaming to behold her in all her glory. His fingers could touch no more fabric. He needed to feel the heat that emitted from her skin; he needed to strip her off all that separated her from her Eve and uncover what had been hidden from his eyes for nearly a decade.
Hands on her shoulder and lower back, he pressed her further to his chest and pulled away from the door. His hand slid from her shoulder to grip her elbow as he gently fell to a kneel. She followed without objection, until she rested on his body, still enjoying his time-worn flesh. Her digits wandered to buttons and let them come apart, as if magically, without opening her eyes. Soon she sat, hands groping at the curly tendrils of hair that decorated his chest, on his lap with her legs curled about his own bent legs.
They spent the next hours reintroducing their bodies to one another. There was little that each could not remember about the other, for their forms were nearly unchanged. No feeling of guilt had cropped up in either's stomach. The only feeling to be had was that of elation.
Remus got up from the bed where they had lain for hours, once the floor had gotten too rough. He moved slowly, drunken with the endorphins that swan his veins like long rivers, to the window. He fingered the lock and let it loose, thrusting the window open to enjoy the chill in th air. The windows had fogged with all the mingled heat in the room, from bodies and pleasure and the old, cast-iron stove in the corner. The cool air wafted over the room and immediately brought the temperature down several degrees.
"There's snow on the rooftops, 'Mione." He cooed. "We've lain here a long, long while."
The drop in temperature forced Hermione to pull the white linen sheet over her naked frame, to spare her breasts and belly the cool that was so foreign to them. Remus came and crawled up next to her, his bare body instantaneously warming her skin. Amazingly, he was always warm. His skin never seemed to temper the way her's did. She lent this to the werewolf hibernating within his body, whom she'd seen a hint of in their love-making.
As their warmed bodies mingled once more, she felt a strange sense of loss. She knew her marriage to Ron would never be quite the same, should it survive. She also felt a sense of gain, in Remus. Not sexual gain, but the kind of gain her spirit had pined for for years. The kind of reawakening that you find in a person who has so much to offer, spiritually.
"Tell me, Remus." She said, stroking the brittle, now days old, stubble on his face.
"Tell you what, Hermione?" He looked up at her, eyes smiling. "How much I love you? You already know that, I've told you so many times today..."
"No," She looked away, boding moving to accommodate his welcomed weight atop her. "Tell me everything about you. Tell me our story."
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Oops. Sorry, I lied about starting the whole "a", "b" thing yet. I'm starting to have second thoughts about it all together, anyway...meh. I'm thinking that there may already be enough drama in this story...plus, either story line would still have drama. Why not keep it simple?
Please R&R...what do you think?
Meg