Chapter 42: Wednesday, July 2, 1980 cont'd
"Our frustration is greater when we have much but want more than when we have nothing but want some. We are less dissatisfied when we lack many things than when we seem to lack but one thing."
-Eric Hoffer
Despite any regret she was feeling for staying and consuming a life that wasn't meant for her to have, the moment she entered her home and the scent of Remus' spicy, clean soap filled her nostrils, she nearly sobbed in relief that he was here and safe. Physically whole and seemed to be in much higher spirits than she ever would have expected. She entered their bedroom, because Remus had not once slept in the guest room as he insisted he wanted to do upon taking up her offer to move in, and her eyes raked over Remus as he stood in the center of the room with nothing but a towel tied around his waist.
She watched him from the doorway as he stood in the room, a smaller towel in his hand as he roughed it over his hair to capture the dripping water from the shaggy sandy blond mop.
"I can hear you, you know."
"I know," she said. "I'm enjoying the view."
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, the lightly toned muscles in his back and shoulders moving beneath lightly tanned skin littered with silvery-pink scars. She noticed a small mark on his shoulder that hadn't been there before, but it wasn't very deep and looked as if it were mostly healed already.
With light steps she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his back, her lips ghosting over his skin in small kisses as she spoke again, "I missed you. I was worried."
"I missed you, too." He murmured.
Hermione moved her hands slowly over his abdomen, her fingers tracing the line of hair that ran from his navel further south. She felt him shudder, the muscles of his back shifting again against her face. Her hand came to rest on the top of the towel and she gripped the fabric with both hands, giving it a gentle tug and smirking as it fell to the ground in a pool at their feet. Her hand resumed its exploration of the path of hair leading down to the thatch of short, brown curls nestled around the base of his cock. He let out a small groan as she continued her feather light touch down the length of him, smiling wickedly as he hardened beneath her touch.
After a few slow and agonizing light strokes, she could feel his stomach tense beneath her other hand. She wrapped her fingers around him, pumping slowly as he hissed.
"I want to talk about it," she said. "But later."
"God, yes! L-later!" He stammered.
Her hand fell from him and he spun around, swooping over her to crash his lips onto hers. A low, throaty growl emitted from his throat and at the sound, she felt her knickers grow uncomfortably damp. Remus pulled at her t-shirt, yanking it over her head and moved his hands over the skin of her sides, up her back to undo the clasp on her bra. She quickly undid the button on her trousers and moaned as Remus' lips left hers to suck at a tender spot along the column of her throat. His hands resting on her hips for a split second before shoving both her knickers and her trousers down to the floor. Hermione stepped out of the bundled fabric, her hands pressed against Remus' chest as she pushed him back a few steps to land on the bed.
"Th-the spell! Do the damn spell!" Remus barked out, his head rolling backward onto the mattress as Hermione straddled him, her knees of either side of his hips. She rocked forward, feeling his length slip between her arousal coated folds, the head of his cock brushing her clit. She held her hand to her lower belly and whispered the contraceptive charm, waiting for the pink glow to dissipate.
Remus' hand moved between them, fingers pressing at her core before she swatted him away, "I need you, I need you right now." She whispered in a breathy plea.
Her hand wrapped around the length of him again, feeling the wetness of her heat on him, she lined the head of his cock with her entrance and sank down, the air around them filled with groans of pleasure from the movement. She began rolling her hip against his, lifting herself a bit and sliding back down as she did. She leaned over, her chest hovering above him as she pressed her lips to his throat, nipping at the skin above his collarbone.
Within moments, his hands were settled on her hips, gripping her tightly as she moved above him, his own hip bucking up to meet hers, demanding a quicker pace. Hermione pushed herself upright, reveling in the sound that escaped Remus as her nails dragged down his chest, her hands slid over her thighs and up the flat of her stomach, squeezing the soft flesh of her breasts as she bounced and rolled her hips against him.
"God I...fuuuck, I've never seen anything so gorgeous!" Remus said, his voice husky and broken with panting breaths as his fingers dug into her hips. He stilled her movement momentarily as he rolled, pinning her beneath him. He hooked his arm under her right knee, pulling it up further and Hermione let out a long moan as the shift in position drove him deeper into her.
Hermione opened her eyes to look at Remus while he moved, his hips pulling back and snapping forward, the sound of flesh smacking and heavy breathing filling the room. His eyes were on hers, darkened with lust and ribboned with gold as he thrust into her. She moved her left leg up, hitching it around his waist and arching her back as the pressure in her coiled tightly. Remus' hand fell between them, his fingertips brushing at where their bodies were joined before petting against the aching bundle of nerves at the apex of her center.
"Remus!" Hermione shouted, a cry of pleasure as her hips bucked up from the bed, meeting his thrust for thrust. Her eyes rolled back into her head, her toes curling tightly as her inner walls fluttered, gripping onto him tightly.
"Open your eyes," he begged. "P-please, fuck, I need… I need you to look at me."
Her eyelids flew open as his hand worked her clit, his strokes as furious and needy as the thrust of his hips. The moment her walls clamped down on him, his hand left her center, grabbing onto her jaw and holding her face in place to look at him as she came undone beneath him.
The look on his face was positively remarkable. His eyes flashed gold and he exuded confidence as she cried his name, begging him to not stop. His fingers were wet with her slick, hot against her jaw as he growled out her name, his pace brutal as he laid claim to her. Finally, he loosened the grip on her jaw, his face falling forward to crash against hers in a fierce kiss. She swallowed his moans as his pace stuttered, his hips jerking wildly as he reached his own undoing.
As he spilled himself inside of her, he pulled away, brushing the hair from her face and looking down at her, their noses nearly. He slowed his movements, moving his arms under her back to pull her closer to him as her leg dropped from around his waist. When he pulled his hips back to slip out of her, she let out a small whimper and allowed him to shift them on the bed, pulling her close to him, her back to his chest, and pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and neck.
"I love you, Hermione."
"I know," she sighed, content. "I love you, too."
Thursday, July 3, 1980
The night before had brought with it the absence of conversations needed to be had, and instead filled the air with more moans and growls and whimpers as Hermione and Remus lost themselves in one another a few more times. The morning had brought another round of languorous love making, a much slower and less fevered pace as the night before. Once they were completely spent and thoroughly exhausted, Hermione wished more than ever she could stay in bed with the man next to her and sleep away the day. However, her curiosity of the assignment Dumbledore had sent him on would not allow for it. Nor would the grumbling of both of their stomachs.
Realizing that Remus probably hadn't had a proper meal since he left, she was glad she had told James they would be over for dinner tonight. More often than not, the group ate before the Order meetings, a way to enjoy a few moments of company and explore what items may be on the table for discussion later in the evening. Molly usually cooked for everyone, and had fussed at them more times than she could count for coming on full stomachs, but the much younger but just as formidable Weasley matriarch understood the close dynamic of the group, and usually let it go.
Climbing out of bed and slipping into one of Remus' oversized Beatles t-shirts, she slipped on a pair of cotton knickers, which was met with a disapproving sound from the wizard in her bed, and pulled her hair up to the top of her head, securing it with an elastic.
"I can hear your stomach protesting from here," she sang. "Let's eat, and you can tell me about what happened while you were gone."
"Fine," Remus grumbled, pulling himself from the sheets he was tangled in. He walked to the dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama bottoms and slipping them on and stooped over to place a light peck on the tip of her nose.
She smiled and grabbed his hand, pulling him along beside her as she padded through the living room and into the kitchen. Together, they put together a small lunch of sandwiches and crisps and filled their glasses with pumpkin juice before sitting at the table. Remus ate at a ravenous pace, more so than usual. He finished his second sandwich and guzzled down his third glass of juice and Hermione chuckled when he reached for a third sandwich.
"...What?"
"Did you eat at all while you were gone?"
He cleared his throat, a sheepish look stealing his face as the hand hovering over the sandwich dropped to the table and he pushed the plate away from him. "I er… Yeah. I did. But erm, it's not exactly… decent meals…"
"Eat," Hermione said, reaching over to push the plate back toward him. "Just don't choke. Because if you've just come home from a colony of werewolves to choke to death on a ham and mustard sandwich, I'll be very cross with you."
Remus chuckled, bringing the sandwich to his mouth and taking a large bite, giving her a pointed look as he chewed at a much slower pace than he had been. "Werewolf colony?"
Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "You went on an assignment completely on your own at the personal request of Albus Dumbledore over the course of the full moon, Remus."
"Are you sure you aren't showing your knowledge of the future here?" Remus asked, smirking around the rim of his glass.
"Possibly," she said. "Either way, you're dodging the question."
Remus sighed, swallowing the bite he had taken and dusting the crumbs from his fingers. "Yeah. I er… I spent the full moon at a colony in Germany."
"Germany?"
Remus nodded. "Most of the domestic colonies have already aligned themselves with the Death Eaters. I'm not sure it will be worth the effort to walk into enemy territory. Germany is largely undecided at this point. Their wizarding community alone is staying fairly neutral in their stance. I guess after dealing with Grindelwald followed directly by Hitler, they aren't interested in another war any time soon."
Hermione nodded in understanding, "But the werewolves won't stay neutral?"
"It's not likely, no." Remus sighed, his face suddenly looking very exhausted. Hermione began to feel guilty for the lack of sleep he received last night. Rest he clearly needed. "It's not exactly in werewolf nature to remain neutral when their territory is threatened. If Lord Voldemort takes over, it's well known at this point he will start stepping into other countries, try to gain allies within other communities to further his fucked up agenda."
Hermione sighed, her mouth twisting to the side in thought. He was certainly right about that. Back in her own time, they had seen a large increase in Death Eater numbers that had come from other countries. Pureblood wizards from France, Germany, Spain, Italy… Even Croatia and Lithuania… Wizards and witches had come in droves to support the Death Eater cause after the death of Voldemort. She remembered how terrified the Order had been, trying to put together some semblance of a plan against such massive numbers compared to their tiny resistance.
"Did you get any useful information?" Hermione asked.
"Aside from what I just told you? Not really. The leader of the pack I transformed with, Oskar, said he'd be willing to meet with Dumbledore but only after he received the safe haven that was promised to him."
"We promised refuge?"
Remus snorted, "If you'd like to call it that, but it's not the word I would use."
"What did you promise them, then?"
"I didn't promise anything. Dumbledore did." Remus said, a slight bitterness to his tone. "I respect Dumbledore and what he's done for my life. But… But he's making promises that he can't keep. The Ministry will never allow more werewolves, registered or not, to enter the country. And if they do, where are they supposed to go? What safe haven do we have for them?"
Hermione felt anger bloom in her chest. Remus was right. There was nothing they could promise these people that they could deliver without doubt, without jumping through hoops and red tape. Dumbledore, and all the power he wields, is not enough to convince an entire populace of people to overturn the government laws put in place of a class XXXX beast. People were terrified of werewolves. Plain and simple. No one would overturn the legislatures that had been written into being years before to accommodate more!
"He's promising refuge in return for their allyship," Hermione hissed. "Expecting them to give up their neutrality for false hope of a better world as part of a resistance while throwing them straight into war!"
Remus nodded, "And they're so desperate for a fuckin' bit of humanity, that they're willing to do it. They're willing to risk getting killed if it means they can have a damn roof over their heads and a warm meal in their bellies on a regular basis."
"So what now?"
"Well, I gave them the information to contact Dumbledore, as he requested. And we wait to see. I met with him yesterday before I came home… I would've been a while earlier had I not… He seemed pleased with the outcome."
"What aren't you telling me?" Hermione asked, noting the nervous edge to his voice.
Remus drained the last of his pumpkin juice and sighed, "It went well, so he wants me to try and talk to domestic packs."
"They've already said-
"I know." Remus said, "But if we can sway them to join the resistance… Hermione, werewolves are treated really terribly. Most of us live in squalor and haven't felt the heat of a fresh cooked meal or the feel of new fabric in a very long time. Even the prospect of having a bit of money, a home with working plumbing… I've barely got two sickles to rub together, and it's a sight more than those living in the compounds have. They're desperate."
"So he's feeding into that desperation with human lives?!" Hermione asked, appalled.
"No," Remus answered. His face hardened and his expression turned dark. "With werewolf lives."
Hermione's stomach churned and she regretted eating lunch. She felt nauseous, dizzy with the implication that Remus was giving her. Dumbledore doesn't see them as people. She blinked back furious tears, biting into her lip as her breaths came angry and jagged through flared nostrils. Her mind focused on one person in particular who had been used, not seen as a human being, but raised as a pig for slaughter. A seventeen year old boy with bright emerald eyes and a hopeless mop of raven hair. She closed her eyes, trying to control her temper. She should have known that at some point, she would have to face the things Dumbledore had done with the information she had of him. That he was manipulative and machiavellian in the best of circumstances, in the worst; he was downright vicious. All under the guise of the greater good.
Hermione's ire did not dissipate.
After spending the afternoon with Lily, James, Sirius, and Peter- who had come back from an assignment as well, Hermione listened to Remus go over the same information he had given her and she was still seething as the group talked it over. To her surprise, Peter had been the first to show any signs of anger to Remus going on another mission to any of the English werewolf dens. He had nearly shouted at Remus for even entertaining the idea.
James and Sirius had both been adamant that Dumbledore knew what he was doing. That there must be a reason, a lead, if they were going to send Remus into the already volatile compounds. That the reward must outweigh the risk. To that remark, Hermione reminded them of the last mission involving werewolves and the potion that they had forced Remus to take.
As she sat in the Order meeting, listening to them read off everything going on in the Ministry, which in the last two weeks had gone completely to shit, she could feel the anger simmering beneath the surface of her skin, itching to explode from her in the form of a well aimed hex to every person in the room who thought sending Remus back out on an assignment was a good idea.
Dumbledore had said minimal words about the prospect of sending him back out, neither confirming, nor denying that this was his intention.
"It would benefit our cause to have the strength of numbers that an alliance with werewolves would bring."
The words fell from the ancient Headmaster's mouth so fluidly, yet they hit Hermione's ears like nails on a chalkboard. Of course, he would be okay with sending Remus out. Because it was Remus whose life would be in direct danger, but the cause, the resistance, the Order, the greater fucking good, would be fine if something happened to him.
A long time ago, Hermione had been under the guise that Albus Dumbledore cared about the people who fought with him. She had been under the delusion that he truly cared for Harry, and that his protection had been a priority to him. When she had found out that his protection was only offered so that Harry could walk to his death at the right time, something in her snapped. Some strange form of anger infused grief had taken over her as she learned that the man she thought had been the beacon of Light and hope for so many, through two bloody wars… Had shown not even a modicum of empathy for the people who fought with him.
Not with, actually. For.
For it was not Dumbledore out in the fields being captured and tortured. He was not witnessing people he loved be murdered and he did not feel the fear that the wrath of Voldemort had evoked upon the community. He sat at his throne in his office and gave orders to people who owed him their lives, to people he had manipulated for so long, they had no choice but to agree.
And sitting beside her was another man that she loved, that she cared deeply for, signing his death certificate as he agreed to go on another mission to infiltrate werewolves in Yorkshire the next full moon.
.
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a/n: Hey all, sorry it's much later in the day than usual. I had some personal stuff going on! I hope you liked this chapter though!
See you Tuesday :)
