Warning: this chapter is sexually explicit.
There is PLENTY more Leo and Hermione to come, so be patient! :) Also, thank you to waterflower20 for reminding me that Regulus was younger than Sirius, not older. I don't know how I got them mixed up!
Remus Lupin was certain that the night before had been a dream.
He sat on the edge of an enormous bed, elbows resting on his knees, cradling his head in his hands. The bright sunlight spilling across the plush, white comforter did nothing to ease the splitting headache that pulsated at his temples. He slowly rose from the bed, steadying himself on a mauve slab headboard. Where on earth…?
Oh. Right. It hadn't been a dream, after all.
Blinking and rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, Lupin drank in the furnishings around him. A large white throw rug with an abstract mauve and yellow pattern covered most of the dark wooden flooring in the bedroom. The walls were a stark white, save one, which was a bright yellow. One of the walls was entirely covered by a built-in shelving unit crammed next to a desk, which was littered with sample-size makeup and magazines. Another wall, facing the street, was almost entirely taken up by a massive window, which was covered in sheer mauve drapes. He counted three doors down a tiny corridor, which he assumed led to the rest of the flat, a closet, and a bathroom. A small antique chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling in place of a fan. And in the bed, which took up most of the cramped space in the room, the most exquisite Muggle he had ever met was peering up at him through long lashes.
Or rather, not at his face. She grinned sleepily as her eyes roamed south, and for the first time, he realized that he was completely naked.
Nadine sat upright and stretched, letting the comforter fall from her hands. He realized she was completely naked, too. Merlin.
"It's kind of late to be sneaking out, don't you think?" she said with a giggle. Lupin was frozen where he stood, lost for words as Nadine crawled towards him on the bed like a cat. Somehow she managed to look so innocent even with her body so obviously on display. With the full moon that night, it was all he could do to stifle the wolf inside of him at the sight of her beautifully toned ass in the air.
His hangover was forgotten as she reached his side of the bed and pulled him closer. He realized he was standing at full attention, only vaguely aware of anything else around him as her warm mouth descended around his morning wood and coaxed a moan from his lips. "Gods, Nadine." It was the first thing he had said all morning. "Oh, fuck."
She relaxed her throat and let him in deeper, gagging slightly on his girth. Lupin's eyes rolled back into his head and his rough hands found the back of her head, entwining in her thick locks as he slowly rocked his hips forward and lost himself in the wet heat of her skilled mouth. He stared, mesmerized, as strings of saliva dripped onto her full, pale breasts and hardened pink nipples.
Nadine pulled back and ran her tongue around the head of his swollen member, taking the opportunity to grin up at him devilishly. He couldn't take it anymore. With growl, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her back onto the bed.
He tossed Nadine like she weighed nothing, and she barely had time to marvel at his strength before he was on top of her, forcing apart her legs and trailing his teeth down her thighs. He sucked and nibbled on her pale skin, sometimes biting softly and other times just enough to make her cry out in pain but not enough to break the skin. She knew she would bruise, but she was writhing in anticipation by the time his tongue found its way to her lower lips and parted them. He drew lazy circles around her clit, teasing her, then flicking it and making her cry out again; then buried his tongue inside of her. Her hands ran through his hair but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them with a growl.
"Please, James," she whimpered. He stopped, looking up at her with striking yellow eyes, and shook his head before descending on her again. Wait, what? His eyes were hazel… but the thought was barely even coherent in her own mind.
He brought her to the edge several agonizing times but wouldn't let her go over. He held her pinned for what felt like hours as she writhed underneath him and pleaded, said his name, over and over again. Finally, he pulled back and grinned at her. She would have let him do anything to her right then and there, with that twinkle in his eye and her juices dripping down his chin… he was so damn sexy.
She said his name one more time, as if asking a question, and before she realized it he had flipped her over and sunk into her from behind.
Nadine gasped at the fullness of him. What he may not have been blessed with in length, he more than made up with in girth, and the stretch she felt was delicious and incredible. His rough hands grasped her hips and spanked her for good measure. She was surprised at how audacious he was being, but soon lost herself in his agonizingly slow thrusts, gripping the comforter with white-knuckled fists and squealing into a throw pillow. He seemed energized by her high-pitched moans and picked up the pace. The sound of slapping skin filled the tiny room and she knew she wouldn't last. Already on the precipice of her orgasm from before, she fell to pieces as the waves of pleasure took her and made her entire body shudder with the force of them. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream as she contracted around his cock. He gripped her waist harder and thrust more fervently as she rode out her orgasm, moaning loudly as he pulled out of her and spilled his seed on her reddened ass cheeks.
She collapsed on her stomach and he fell beside her, both of them panting hard and staring at each other for a long while. She noted that his eyes had faded from yellow to hazel—perhaps it was a trick of the light.
He cupped her face and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Nadine thought it was odd how he could be so domineering one moment and soft the next as he got up and grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom so she could clean herself.
"I'm on the pill," she mentioned as an afterthought, grabbing a dressing-gown from a hook in her closet. James nodded as he found his discarded boxers from the night before. Nadine handed him a bath towel from the closet and told him he could shower if he wanted.
He wrinkled his nose at her. "Maybe you should join me, you smell."
She giggled and swatted him with the towel. "I was going to make you breakfast, but now I don't feel like being nice."
"I had breakfast already," he said with a wink. Nadine blushed. "But you could join me for lunch?"
She was shocked for a moment, but saw that he was serious. Not that she was used to one-night-stands, but she was also unaccustomed to having a bloke stick around for longer than he needed to. It was almost… refreshing. "I suppose we did work up a bit of an appetite," she said slowly. What was the big deal? It was just lunch, after all.
He grinned at her, and she found it contagious. "Wonderful." He dropped the boxers in his hand and she untied her robe slowly, letting it slink to the floor and giving him a playful smile. James offered his arm to her and she cracked up at the pretense but took it, and let him escort her to the shower.
Harry stared after Ginny's silhouette, imagining running his fingers through the thick auburn locks she had let fly free on that biting December afternoon. She was an angel; of that he was fairly certain. She had been a rock for Ron and Harry these last few weeks, her optimism about Hermione never faltering. He had no clue how she did it, how she managed to be such a bright light among all the doom and gloom surrounding her. It was truly a gift.
A smack on the back of his head shook him from his daze. "If you're going to check out my sister, you could be a little more discreet about it when I'm around," Ron sulked, taking another bite of his pheasant stew. They were having lunch in Hogsmeade at Talulah's, an old inn across from The Three Broomsticks that used to be a tavern, according to Mr. Weasley, but had been remodeled when it was sold two decades ago. It was a cheery place, but it was a little modern for Hogsmeade, Harry thought. It was frequented by an older crowd, and they were less likely to be overheard by their peers here, which is why he brought Ron.
The photograph he had found in Malfoy's bedside cabinet was nagging at him. He had already sent a copy to Lupin this morning with a letter full of questions, but since Lupin was part of the team searching for Hermione, he didn't anticipate a prompt response. In the meantime, he thought maybe he could pick his best friend's brain for some insight.
He stole a last glance at Ginny through the window, who was pelting her current beau with snowballs. Some seventh-year named Erick. "I hate him," he said flatly.
"You've never met the bloke," Ron pointed out, but this time it was Harry's turn to smack him on the back of his head. He sputtered, choking on a hunk of pheasant, and gesturing wildly for Harry to do something as his face reddened.
Harry flicked his wand. "Anapneo." Ron gasped, his airway clear, and panted dramatically.
"You buggering idiot, you could've killed me!"
"Not likely," Harry said. "You're too hard to kill. Could you imagine going through everything we've gone through since we've been at Hogwarts, surviving Death Eaters and Acromantulas and Basilisks, only to be killed by a bite of pheasant stew? Voldemort would have a fit."
He must have been talking loudly because a hush fell over their section of the café at the mention of Voldemort's name. He shrugged it off; it was nothing new. He didn't care much about anything lately anyway.
"Oh, sod off," Ron grumbled at the patrons whose eyes were now glued to their table. "Fear of a name…" he paused, realizing what he was saying, and who he was quoting. "Oh, gods. Now I sound like Hermione."
Harry had half a mind to point out that Hermione had been quoting Dumbledore when she said that, but decided to let Ron go ahead and feel emasculated. He took a bite of his untouched stew. It would have already been cold were it not for the warming charm on the bowl.
"So you mentioned that you had something to show me?" Ron asked after a short silence.
"Yeah," Harry said, perking up a little and fishing through his pockets. "Remember Lupin's letter and how he basically encouraged me to go snooping? Well I wound up in the Slytherin dormitory the other night, and I was going through Malfoy's things—"
"You what? Without me? You're no fun," Ron sulked. "I would've loved the chance to leave a present on his pillow."
"Well I definitely considered it," Harry said, pulling the folded photo from his jacket. "But I found something... well, disturbing, to say the least. Have a look." He unfolded it and pushed it across the table.
Ron peered at it for several long moments and picked it up to look closer. "Blimey, Harry. Who's that with Malfoy?"
"That's the question," Harry said, lowering his voice. "I haven't a clue. But does he remind you of anyone?"
Ron frowned, and then his eyes widened. "But… but it can't be Sirius, that's impossible. Look how young Malfoy is."
"Well I know it's not Sirius," Harry said in frustration.
"It can't be Regulus either," Ron said, still peering intently at the picture. "He was younger than Sirius, but not by this much."
"D'you think he had another younger brother? One that nobody knew about? It could be a half-brother, maybe?"
"No idea," Ron sighed, handing the photo back to Harry. "Did the original have any writing on the back? Sometimes my mum does that with photos, writes who is in them."
Harry could have hit himself. "You're right. Merlin, I didn't even think to look. Crabbe and Goyle came in and distracted me. I wish I had used a duplication spell instead of a transcribing one, all it did was copy the image and not the physical photo itself…"
"Well we can get back in there and look," said Ron excitedly, suddenly energized at the idea of breaking into the Slytherin dormitory.
Harry raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know," he said, to Ron's surprise. "It took me an hour at least to undo the protective spells around his stuff and the bedside cabinet, and another to re-cast them the way he had. It was tricky. I thought it was strange though that the cabinet was so heavily warded when there was nothing important in it. Just the photo album I got that picture from."
"I think it's worth a shot," Ron pressed. "Have you shown this to anyone else? Anyone from the Order? Dumbledore?"
Harry had initially considered going to Dumbledore, but something held him back. "I sent it to Lupin," he said finally. "He's really the only one who has been keeping me in the loop about Hermione. And he's the only Marauder left. If anyone knew any of Sirius's secrets, it would be Moony. I just have no idea how long it will take Hedwig to find him. I know she will, she always does… but he hasn't been keen on telling me his whereabouts lately."
"So now we play the waiting game?" Ron said with a resigned sigh.
"It looks like it," Harry said sullenly, stuffing the photo back in his pocket. He glanced at the clock above the bar. "We should probably be heading back. We have the Quidditch pitch booked at five."
They tossed a few knuts on the table and shrugged on their scarves, hats, and gloves, bracing themselves for the relentless December wind. Outside, flurries of snow swallowed the forms of meandering townspeople until they were nothing but shadows.
"The problem, Minerva, is that I don't know when Harry is more apt to be reckless: if he knows Hermione is safe but being cryptic about the circumstances, or if he thinks Voldemort actually has her."
McGonagall surveyed the weary headmaster through her spectacles. She seldom saw him as worn-down as he appeared in front of her now. His usually well-kempt beard was disheveled and his cap was slightly askew. He was in the same wrinkled set of robes he had been wearing the night before. "Have you slept at all, Albus?"
"Sleep is practice for death, Minerva."
"Which you will find creeping up on you far more quickly with the way you're handling this mess. Let me at least fetch Horace to fix you a Sleeping Draught—"
"I think telling Potter might be the most prudent course of action, due to some bothersome developments in this little situation," drawled a nasally voice from the doorway of Dumbledore's office. McGonagall jumped, having not realized he was listening in. Snape pushed off the wall he had been casually leaning against and sauntered into the foyer, but his sharp eyes contradicted his nonchalant affect. "Headmaster, if I may, we do have another annoyance to address. In the form of a certain loud-mouthed Malfoy."
"Do Mr. Malfoy's adolescent antics really need our attention this minute?" McGonagall was trying to maintain her composure, but her voice was borderline shrill.
"Minerva, if you might go fetch something from Poppy that will help me sleep, I would be much obliged. See if you can take something to calm your nerves as well," Dumbledore said, not unkindly. "We're all on edge, and I'm anticipating I'll be in the mood for a nap after this conversation. I'll fill you in over supper."
She looked slightly affronted but gave them both a curt nod after a pause, understanding that Dumbledore meant to be alone with the professor. She exited the room with a dignified sweep of her robes.
Snape's lip quirked in a half-grimace, half-smirk, as he turned his attention back to the old man in front of him. "It appears he's discovered that Miss Granger is a little runaway, after all."
Dumbledore let out a weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you certain? How do you know?"
"I had to find out from a very self-satisfied Lucius Malfoy, who wondered why I had not yet alerted the Dark Lord of this… mishap," he said, folding his arms. "Of course I conveyed that the Dark Lord had indeed been informed, but whatever plans he had were yet to unfold and that Lucius would do well not to question matters that were obviously over his head."
Dumbledore nodded, playing with the bauble in his long beard and staring off into his own thoughts. "Of course you understand this now means you must tell Voldemort of her disappearance."
"Yes," he managed through gritted teeth. "It will be difficult to mislead him as to my knowledge of her whereabouts, but I have confidence I can feed him false intel for several weeks without arousing suspicion. Which, by then, I would hope we have the girl back. Otherwise, I can't guarantee she will stay safe, Albus."
"Yes, I know." Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose again. "But then again, we aren't very confident in her safety as it is, are we?"
Uh oh. Lupin and Nadine are pretty cozy, huh? I wonder what that means for Leo/Liam. How will he react to Harry's letter, and what exactly is Voldy going to make of Hermione's disappearance? Stay tuned...