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Breaking Up Made Easy

Remus looked up at the ceiling, hands tucked casually behind his head, gazing unseeingly at the tiny cracks and creases in the soothing grey paint. The sun streamed through the dirty windows on the side of the room, but he didn't mind. He loved the sunlight, as it reminded him that he was safe - for the time being - from the tricks and treacheries of the moon.

He shifted slightly on his bed, trying to get comfortable for a mid-day nap. He knew it was fruitless - he rarely slept this close to the full moon - but optimist that he was he kept on trying. Taking a deep breath, he settled himself back into the pillows, eyelids shutting as he slipped into a cautious, comfortable sleep...


Bolting upright by habit, Remus gripped his wand, pointing it wildly around the room as he let his pupils expand in the bright sun. Blinking, his brow furrowed when he saw nothing. Shaking his head, he slowly lowered his body back to the bed, wondering if maybe this time, his body would allow him a few precious hours of sleep.


He hadn't even closed his eyes when he heard it again, but his keen hearing knew that it wasn't his window the tapping was insisting upon. Frowning, he mentally tabulated who else in the house would be around to receive owls. Surely not Sirius - the handsome animagus very rarely corresponded with anyone, and besides, nobody in their right mind would send him an owl before noon. Harry was at work, and Ginny was at practice, which left one other person, who he was sure was in the library absorbed in work.


There was an insistence now to the tapping, and Remus debated on whether he should intervene, for fear of the window being pecked to death by a diligent owl. He decided to just ignore it. Perhaps Hermione was in the kitchen getting a sandwich, or maybe even out of the room attending to a call of nature. Taking a deep breath, he lay back down and closed his eyes once more.


Eyes flicking open, Remus could feel the wolf start to rear, annoyed by the constant tap-tap-tapping. Of course, the owl really had nothing to do with the annoyance - the poor animal was simply doing its job. Remus and his wolf, however, knew just who to be annoyed by, especially since the tapping was slowly grating on the man and the canine's very last nerve.


"That's it," Remus growled to himself, rolling off the bed and stalking toward the door. If Hermione was out of the library, he would let the blasted animal in himself. If she was in...well...he would have a few words for the little witch and perhaps yet another lecture on the sensitivity of werewolf senses so close to a full moon.


Gripping the banister, Remus padded down the four flights of stairs that led from his room to the library, each step getting him more and more annoyed at the bushy-haired brunette and his body not looking forward to the journey back up the stairs to his room after he completed his not-entirely-altruistic mission. His head was starting to ache.


Slamming open the door, Remus stomped into the library and made a beeline for the windows, flinging them open to the beautiful silver owl that was hovering in front of him. The bird hooted gratefully and sailed through the window past the annoyed werewolf, landing gracefully on the large mahogany table that sat less than ten feet from where he was standing.

Remus gritted his teeth when he saw a mass of curls peeking over one of the large, straight-backed chairs, and with a stunning show of restraint, closed the window without breaking it before sauntering over to the studious young woman who seemed completely and utterly engrossed in her work and entirely unaware of the palaver he had gone through in the past five minutes.

"Hermione," he said, his voice barely hiding the sheer frustration he was feeling. However, when she turned to look at him, large whisky eyes blinking innocently at him as an eagle feather quill was poised in her ink-stained hands, he felt every ounce of anger, frustration, and annoyance slide away as if it hadn't been there at all.

"Oh, hello Remus," she said, giving him a broad, toothy grin. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I noticed," he said dryly, smiling in spite of himself as he noticed a smudge of ink next to her left eye, and a soft canary feather quill lodged in her hair. "I also noticed that you didn't hear the owl that has been tap-tap-tapping at the window for the past ten minutes."

He motioned to the patient silver owl at her side for effect, and she started slightly as if the creature had just materialized in front of her.

"When did you get here," she mused to herself, and Remus had to fight a grin as the owl hooted what he was sure was a rather rude response in owl language.

When she didn't move, Remus cleared his throat.

"Not for nothing, Miss Granger, but I left the comfort of my bed to race down four stories to make sure the owl didn't break the window in his fervour to gain your attention. I'm not one to be nosy, but you simply staring at it hardly seems like polite behaviour considering what the poor fellow's been through," he said.

He tried to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach as she blushed prettily.

"Sorry, Remus," she said sincerely, looking up at him. "I know the full moon's tomorrow night, and I'm sure the owl was annoying. I just...I was engrossed with this chapter I was writing know how I get..." She trailed off, but once more her big brown eyes looked up at him and blinked their apology.

He took a deep breath to stop himself from kissing those slightly-downturned, pouty lips.

"Perhaps you should open your letter, Hermione," he said, swallowing the desire he suddenly seemed to have for his young friend.

"Oh yes, of course," she replied, hastily taking the letter off the owl's proffered leg. She looked around helplessly for an owl treat as Remus stroked the bird's feathers, but since the library was not usually accustomed to owl deliveries, Remus knew she wouldn't find any. As if sensing that all his hard work had been in vain, the owl hooted indignantly, gave Remus a smart nip on his outstretched hand, and flew out of the room and down toward the owl entrance in the kitchen.

Remus gave a sharp curse, lifting his wounded finger to his lips in an attempt to sooth the cut. Still frustrated by the fact that he had interrupted his well-deserved nap in order to aid the young witch, he pushed decorum aside and watched as she opened the envelope, noting the roll of her eyes as she glanced at the extravagant black seal of the fleur-de-lis.

Remus had an inkling as to who the author of the note was, and from the look on Hermione's face as she read it, he was thoroughly convinced that he was right. Only one man he knew would use such an ostentatious family seal, and as he looked closer and caught a glimpse of the swirling, self-important calligraphy, he understood why Hermione's expression had gone from curious to enraged. Her expression was often fixed that way when dealing with the man who authored the letter.

Jean-Claude, 8th Marquis de Berny.

He had been a classmate of Fleur's at Beauxbaton, and on a quick trip to bring some papers out to Bill in Shell Cottage, Hermione had had the misfortune of meeting the thoroughly-handsome but unspeakably pompous French aristocrat. One look at Hermione and Jean-Claude had images of grandeur, with the famous young war hero on his arm as he graced the privileged halls of the French elite.

Hermione, upon meeting him, had had no such illusions.

Though persistently attempting to "woo" the young witch, Jean-Claude consistently found himself rebuffed, refused, and repudiated, none of which seemed to bother him in the slightest. When he started sending expensive gifts and ludicrously large flower arrangements to her office, however, Hermione had acquiesced to one date.

It had been a total disaster.

Jean-Claude had announced that the restaurant was too gauche, the wine too English, the staff too unbelievably vulgar – all pointed out to Hermione in loud, sweeping tones within the first five minutes of entering the restaurant. In order to compensate for the evening, Hermione had downed as much wine as she could get her hands on. While it had given her a distraction from the dull and self-important dinner conversation, it had the unfortunate side-effect of leaving her vulnerable to the attractive man's seduction, and the next morning she found herself sneaking out of his bed with a massive headache and the sinking knowledge that Jean-Claude would never give up now that he had had her in his bed.

Though dating Jean-Claude did have its perks – he lavished her with gifts, introduced her to influential diplomats, and got Mrs. Weasley off her back – Hermione was growing less and less tolerant of the man's consistent attitude. She had told Remus that she would have rather endured root canal surgery without anaesthetic than endure another impassioned tirade on the "peasant masses" – though the metaphor was lost on him until she finally explained the sadistic practices of Muggle dentistry. It became clear, though, that Hermione would rather spend her time scrubbing out flobberworm cages than be in Jean-Claude's presence any longer than she had to.

Remus arched an eyebrow as he watched Hermione crumple the parchment violently in her small hands before hurling the offending missive across the room with a loud shriek of anger. Due to the lack of heft, there was little aerodynamics to the hurled object, and it fell only feet from her. Pushing the chair back from the broad table with a loud scrape, Hermione stalked over to the parchment, smoothed it out again, read it, then crumpled it once more with an almost-feral growl, holding it in her fist as she started to pace around the room.

"What's he done now?" Remus asked mildly, perching himself on the table as he faced her, trying not to look too amused by her behaviour for fear of her vengeful wrath.

"What's he done?" she said with a dangerous softness that belied the fire in her eyes. "I'll tell you what that insufferable, irritating, pig headed git..."

"Oi! I only just woke up. What have I done now?" Sirius said from the doorway, pausing mid-step as he surveyed the fuming witch before him and instinctively bringing his hands down to cover his most prized body part.

"Not you," she ground out, smoothing out the letter once more. "Jean-Claude."

Sirius grinned broadly.

"What did our dear little "Bernie" do now?" he asked, using the nickname he and the boys had created that annoyed the Marquis de Berny to no end. Striding over to the couch, Sirius threw himself upon it with a grace that only the truly well-moneyed were able to achieve.

Hermione looked at the two men and, seeing the curiosity in both their eyes, held the letter aloft and cleared her throat:

"My dear little witchling," she began, her voice a perfect imitation of the insufferable man's snobbish French accent. "It is with great regret that I must put an end to our courtship. I do not wish to break your heart, ma petite, but alas I fear it is inevitable. Such passion between two people is bound to cause such hardship, and you are too fragile, like a bird. Our flame must die now, as I have been recalled to France and am unable to bring you with me. Be strong, mon cher, and know that one day, you will learn to love again. Please, do not attempt to contact me, as the sight of your downcast face will only make this more difficult. Au revoir, cherie, Jean-Claude."

Both men watched her as her nostrils flared and she ripped the parchment in a show of disgust.

"Break my heart indeed!" she huffed, throwing the remnants of the letter into the fireplace. "As if he could even come close! I swear to Merlin the next time I see that preening, pompous, preposterous…"

"Prosthelytizing?" Remus joked, but clamped his mouth shut as she swung to face him with a glare so fiery he was sure she could have set his hair aflame had she wanted.

"Well?" Sirius asked, looking at her from his perch on the couch. "This is a good thing right, love? You wanted to get rid of the simpering git."

Hermione turned her look of rage to the lounging pureblood, but the animagus seemed less inclined to shudder under the full force of it than Remus was.

"No, it is not a good thing! He broke up with me. By owl!"

Sirius opened his mouth to retort, and Remus saw his opportunity to cut in before the two ended up in an argument.

"You…didn't want him to break up with you?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral as the tension in the room started to rise again. He really shouldn't have gotten out of bed.

"I wanted to break up with him. I can't believe he wanted to break up with me, and that he had the nerve to do it by owl!" she roared, resuming her pacing.

"Ah," was all Remus said, making a note never to question female logic again.

Obviously, however, Sirius missed this memo.

"But if you didn't want to be with him…and he broke up with you…then you're no longer with him, right?" he said, his dark brow furrowing as he tried to understand what was going through the brilliant woman's head. "You got what you wanted."

"No I bloody well didn't!" she shouted, at which Sirius really did start, subtly crossing his legs as he once again worried for his precious family jewels.

"Hermione," Remus said, trying to remain mildly objective but finding it extremely difficult as the tension and frustration in her body made her skin flush a brilliant pink, making his inner wolf tremble with desire. "I understand that this might be frustrating, but…"

"Frustrating!" she squeaked, whirling around to face him again. "It's humiliating is what it is! I cannot believe that I was dumped by the self-righteous, self-important, self-indulgent…"

"Self-serving?" Sirius teased, both men finding it thoroughly amusing that her anger manifested itself in synonyms and alliteration.

"He was a fraction of a man!" she finished, eyes blazing. "And I mean that in all respects."

Sirius arched his eyebrow.

"So…in the bedroom…" he started, a shadow of a smirk appearing on his lips.

"He stunk!" Hermione whipped back, throwing her heavy curtain of curls over her shoulder before stalking over to the table and sitting next to Remus. The werewolf swallowed hard as he felt the heat radiate from her skin, her hair practically crackling with electricity.

"Stunk, did he?" Sirius mused, his smirk growing slightly as Remus eyed him.

"It was the worst three minutes of my life," Hermione announced, to which Sirius howled with laughter.

"Hermione…" Remus started, but she shook her head.

"Honestly, it was like he was masturbating, and using me for his hand. Not like there was much there to work with. I had to hold back the urge to ask if he was in yet when we first had sex. Actually, I don't think I'll even call it sex. I don't know if laying below a man who thrusts three inches into your body is considered sex."

Remus could feel additional heat flowing through her body like a current, and a blush started to form on his cheeks as he realized that the heat was not anger, but desire. Desire for someone to take her hard and rough until she begged.

Remus was suddenly wondering if someone had turned the temperature up in the room.

"Tell me honestly, kitten: how long has it been since a man has made your toes curl?" Sirius was asking Hermione when Remus found himself floating back to the conversation at hand.

"Three years," Hermione responded immediately. "And even then it wasn't earth-shattering. Pleasant, yes, but not earth-shattering."

"So in other words, it's been a ridiculously long time since you've had a good shag."

Remus shot his best friend a hard glare as Hermione – her mind emerging from her haze of anger to realize the subject of the conversation and who she was having it with – flushed a bright red.

Sirius, however, just shrugged.

"What, Moony? The same can be said for you."

Remus felt heat rush to his face as Hermione turned to look at him, and he glared even harder at the pureblood's mischievous smirk.

Sirius sighed and stood, stretching his lean body and shooting Hermione a wink.

"Y'know, kitten…if you're ever in need of a good shag…I'm on the third floor."

Remus growled audibly before he could stop himself, and he flushed even darker as Hermione arched a curious eyebrow. Sirius chuckled before whistling merrily and sauntering out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him.

There was silence for a moment before Remus cleared his throat.

"It hasn't been that long…really…" he mumbled, still not looking Hermione directly in the eye.

When she didn't say anything immediately, Remus looked over at her, and saw something pass over her eyes. It was a glazed look, and if he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn she was giving him a thorough once-over. His brow furrowed as she blushed again before clearing her throat in a manner similar to him.

"What do you say we nick a bottle of Sirius's firewhisky to pay him back for putting us in this ludicrously uncomfortable situation?" she asked, smiling shyly at him and catching his eyes for the first time.

He smiled gently.

"Sounds like a decent start to paying him back, though I hope there's more pain and suffering to this plan."

She chuckled as she waved her wand, charming a dusty bottle of firewhisky and two ornate crystal glasses to sail over to her. She placed the bottle and the glasses down where she had been sitting, tucking a few stray curls behind her ear absently as she set to work opening the bottle.

"Oh, I could think up one or two things that would drive our friend wild," she smirked, pouring out two generous fingers of the amber liquid. He had to suppress the sharp intake of breath when her fingers lingered against his as she handed him the glass, their eyes meeting again briefly before they both looked away.

She took a sip of the whisky, and Remus watched as her eyes fluttered shut and her throat convulsed around the burning liquid. All he could think about was how she was driving him wild.

"Like what?" he asked suddenly, ignoring the husky note his voice had adopted, desperately trying to distract himself from the smooth column of her throat and the way her small pink tongue darted out to capture an errant drop of whisky.

Her answering smirk was full of wicked promise and again Remus had to seriously reconsider his choice to stay here in the library with her. The easy way in which she could set his pulse racing and her increasing, yet seemingly unconscious flirtations were beginning to threaten his hard earned control.

"I can't give away all my secrets," she teased, taking another sip of her whisky while she studied him with a small smile that told him something was on her mind.

"What?" he asked uneasily after a few moments of silent staring.

She flushed a little but her smile didn't waver, "It's nothing, really. Just something Sirius said that got me thinking."

"Yes?" he asked, wondering just what his supposed best friend had been saying now.

"Oh, nothing bad, not really anyway. It's just…" she bit her lip before swallowing another mouthful of liquid courage, "Well, you now know all the gory details of my past sexual experiences, it just never occurred to me that you weren't having any easier of a time, it actually struck me as odd."

Remus looked at the now blushing witch in front of him, torn between answering truthfully or denying everything Sirius had said, "The fact I haven't had sex in a long time seems odd to you?" he chose to ask instead, fighting off the heat he could feel creeping up his neck, trying to pass it off as the combined effects of an approaching full moon and alcohol.

"Well, yes," she said, looking him in the eye, practically challenging him to tell her otherwise. He was the first to look away.

Remus stood, carefully setting his glass down on the desk as he thought through his reply, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the brilliant and attractive witch.

"It's honestly none of Sirius's business how often I have sex or who with, and it was not his place to make it public knowledge, but unfortunately he's right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going back to bed," he finished, pushing away from the desk and heading for the door.

"Remus please," she called out behind him, the muffled sound of her own glass being placed onto the desk beside his the only indication she had moved, "I didn't mean it that way. It struck me as odd because it's so hard to believe that someone like you doesn't have hoards of women battering down your door."

"And why would they want someone like me?" he asked bitterly, pausing in the doorway, waiting for her mocking response.

"Have you wandered past a mirror lately, Remus?" she asked quietly.

"Of course I have, but looks aren't my problem. In case it slipped your mind, I am not exactly a normal man."

He heard her move in behind him, one of her small, ink stained hands coming to rest on his arm as she spoke, "I know you're not, that's what I am trying to tell you," she swallowed hard before continuing, "Do you have any idea how many women I know who would do anything to have just one night with you? Do you have any idea of how many women are attracted to the side of yourself you resent so much?"

"I know what you are thinking Hermione, and you're wrong," he muttered quietly, steeling himself to pull away from her warmth and forcing himself to remember every ounce of civility of he possessed in order not to turn around. All he could think about while she touched him was how much he wanted to bury himself in her heat, to smell and taste her passion for real.

The women she spoke about happened across him occasionally and had heard of his reputation. Of course there were women who wanted one night with a werewolf, but that's all he was to them, a body. Hermione's earlier word's about the Marquis's sexual prowess being no better to masturbation came to mind.

"I didn't know you were clairvoyant," she said, but the teasing quality in her voice was faint now, "Actually, what I was thinking was that it had been an awfully long time since I'd had a decent sexual encounter and it seems to have caused my mouth to start blabbing out insensitive things which only seem to drive potential suitors away."

"Hermione, I…"

"Remus, please. Jean-Claude made me realize a few things, and one of those was that I needed a man who could fulfil me, physically and mentally. He made me realize that a few quick thrusts in the dark weren't enough to satisfy me."

He whipped his head around to stare at her, watching the blush bloom on her cheeks. He couldn't quite believe what he was hearing and didn't understand just what had brought on this sudden confession. He made a mental note to check the alcohol percentage in the bottle of whisky.

Taking a heaving breath, she continued, "I know this is probably bold, actually, this is downright brazen; but Remus, I think you need a good, long, hard shag as much as I do."

He blinked down at the younger witch, his former pupil, but couldn't seem to form the words she was expecting. Her eyebrows were raised, her body so close to his he could smell the soap that clung to her skin and the faint scent of herbs from an earlier potion she had been brewing.

Hermione watched him expectantly, the pretty blush still colouring her cheeks, "So now," she said breathily, "You either accept my proposal and you shut me up before I say anything else I am going to regret. Or, you go back to bed and we both pretend that this never happened."

"You don't know what you're asking for," he finally managed to choke out, even as he turned his body into hers, bringing them mere inches apart.

Her eyebrows lowered into a frown, "Of course I know what I'm asking for," she replied, her usual tone creeping in, the same tone she adopted when somebody doubted her knowledge, "Do you think I go into anything without knowing as much about it as I can beforehand?"

He couldn't help the short, barking laugh that escaped him, "Are we talking about werewolves or sex?" he chuckled, his arms snaking around her waist as if it were the most natural action in the world. At that very moment, it was.

Gripping his forearms she gave that same wicked grin from minutes earlier, "Both, however some things need more than words in a book to fully appreciate."

"Is that so?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her, their lips brushing gently.

Pulling back with a shuddering sigh she said, "Some things even books can't describe."

"Don't let the others hear you say that," was his last reply before he dived back in to capture her lips, the passion and tension gathering into that one action.

Her hands slid up his toned forearms, fingers drifting over biceps until she reached the back of his neck. She speared her fingers through his hair and kissed him harder, her body pressing his back into the open doorframe. They pulled away from each other panting.

Shivers chased each other down his spine as he leant forward, his breath washing over her cheek and hair, moving his fingers to shift the heavy mass from her shoulder to gain better access. He watched as she bit her lips, blowing lightly on the delicate shell of her ear as he moved past. He watched as she tilted her head to the side, allowing him full access to her neck and jaw line, offering herself to him. He wondered if she realised the significance of such a gesture.

She expelled a long breath when his lips connected with the sensitive skin of her neck, kissing the spot just below her ear before working his way around to her cheek. He used those same fingers that had moved her hair to tip her chin, bringing them face to face. She blinked at him in the dim light, watching as his eyes fell shut and his face closed in on hers.

He kissed her again, this time with none of the intensity of before, just a brushing of their lips together as he felt their softness and inhaled her sweet scent. He felt her long lashes brush against his cheeks as he kissed her closed mouth for a few moments, his movements slow and sensual, as if waiting for her to come to her senses, realizing that perhaps being with him wasn't the smartest idea she had ever had.

She did neither, instead making a small sound of approval in the back of her throat whilst gripping his forearms again, her nails biting slightly as her impatience grew.

A deep moan escaped her, the sound shooting straight to his groin as he forced himself to go slow, to not scare her. That she was able to bring about this reaction in him, and he in her, was almost inconceivable. This slip of a witch who had run their lives so efficiently for so long was suddenly taking on a whole new light in his eyes. Whilst she had always been desirable, she had never been attainable – but her reactions to him proved that she was neither afraid, nor unwilling.

His hands ran from her wrists, up her arms and beneath the sleeves of her shirt. She shivered against him; her soft breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest as his long fingers traced invisible patterns across her skin, reaching all the way to her shoulders and back down to her wrists. The feel of her bare skin against his hands caused him to move just that little bit closer to her as his whole inside began to perk up at the thought that this full moon at least one desire was going to be met.

His tongue traced the plump contours of her lips and she sighed into his touch, letting him in. His tongue massaged her own. He felt her fingers against the back of his neck again, playing with the hair there as they began to slowly move out of the doorway. Their languid movements built in intensity as he spun her around so that her back was now to the wall.

As his tongue became more insistent and her body more pliant he moved his hands down her body once again until his fingers found her waist. He pressed and kneaded her lower back, pulling her hips into his, until she could feel his growing arousal against her. She moaned into his mouth again and began a slow gyrating motion, bringing them closer together.

Remus felt as if his head were about to explode, overwhelmed by the responsive witch in his arms as she moved her body freely against his. It wasn't until she lifted her leg to hook around the back of his that he was forced to pull back panting. Desperate to regain control, he put a hand on either side of her head against the wall.

They'd barely touched in reality, but just being this close to her, feeling the desire rolling off her in waves and the scent of her arousal permeating the air was driving him closer and closer to the edge.

"Are you okay?" she asked, slightly out of breath, "because we can slow down if…"

"If we go any slower," he rasped out, "Sirius will have to start passing meals under the door."

Hermione grinned, moving forward to kiss him again but he pulled back before she could, determined to regain control of the situation. He dropped his hands back to her waist and gently guided her back toward the desk, using his hip to find the edge he sat down with her between his legs.

Only then did he kiss her again, more at eye-level with her now he was sitting down. He moved his fingers into her unruly curls, massaging her neck as they became consumed in one another again. After a while, he began to move his hands down, his fingers brushing against her breasts as he undid the pale green button-down blouse she wore.

"Turn around," he whispered in her ear, pushing her until her back faced him. He skimmed his arms down her shoulders, letting his hands catch the fabric until it fell to her feet. She stood in front of him shivering slightly with anticipation and he fought the urge sniff the air as her emotions swirled around them.

He silently undid the black bra she wore, smiling at her soft hiss as the air touched her breasts. Still sitting on the desk beside their discarded whisky glasses, he reached around to undo the button and pull down the fly of her blue jeans. Hermione took the hint, helping him wriggle them and her underwear down her hips until they joined the pile of clothing pooled at their feet.

When she made to turn around with the intention of helping him undress, he stopped her with two firm hands on her hips.

"Stay where you are," he told her, pulling her a step back to him until her backside rested against the desk, his thighs closing around her, trapping her in.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously, craning her head around to see his face.

"You'll see," he told her, grinning at her frown, the wolf enjoying being in control.

Her ran his hands up her sides, feeling the smoothness of her skin, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume mingled with something that was distinctly her. His palms cupped her breasts and she moaned at the first intimate contact besides his kisses.

"Remus," she sighed, arching her back.

"You wanted more than just a three minute poke in the dark," he responded, plucking her nipples and shifting forward a little to kiss her shoulder.

"Yes, but this is torture," she moaned, grinding her backside into his groin again when she felt him touch her.

Remus knew the feeling, the overwhelming urge to spin her around and surge into her willing body. He also knew that doing so would ruin his chances of a repeat performance with the witch. After all, she wanted a good, long, hard fuck and that was exactly what he intended to give her.

His fingers left her breasts, one hand travelling up to grip a great fistful of her hair, tilting her head to the side. The other hand slowly trailed down her flat stomach, finding the soft hair and then her wet heat.

Hermione cried out in front of him as he touched her sensitive clit, at the same time he gave a sharp tug to her hair, his lips capturing hers. Their tongues wrestled as his fingers expertly parted her nether lips, seeking every erogenous zone and claiming it as his own. She became helpless to his ministrations as he quickly bought her first mind-shattering orgasm of the day.

The younger woman bucked and cried out in his arms, her legs quivering and her body shaking as her pleasure overtook her. She kissed him back like he was the very air she needed to breathe and it was several long moments before she realized he was no longer holding her captive in his arms and she could turn to face him again.

Her fingers made quick work of his clothing and he had little time to care about the scars that had been off putting to so many others. Hermione worshiped them with her mouth as if the marred flesh were beautiful decorations and not reminders of the beast he would change into that next night.

When they were both naked and standing, she once again tried to take control of things by tugging him toward the floor, but Remus had other ideas in mind for the little witch. Gripping her by the waist and using strength she obviously hadn't anticipated – her surprised girlish squeal making him chuckle – he placed her on the desk where he had been sitting moments earlier.

He kissed her again, the dark look in her hazel eyes urging him on. He pushed her shoulder until she lay back, her riot of curls spreading around her, her arms encouraging him to follow her down. He kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulders and breasts. His hands were everywhere until she could take no more and she was crying out and tugging at his hair in frustration.

Remus let out a small growl, coming back to kiss her lips as his hips came into line with hers. She bucked up in silent invitation and with one quick, satisfying thrust he came to rest inside her body.

"Oh fuck," she gasped, her head thrown back from his, her eyes closed as he slowly withdrew, only to slam back into her.

She was so impossibly tight, so hot and warm and wet around him. It had been so long since a witch had let go and given herself to him that he almost came then and there. There was no fear in her, only desire as she moved with him, crying out with pleasure at each new thrust.

He watched as she cursed and threw her head from side to side, her fingernails once again gripped into his forearms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he plunged into her with a satisfying grunt. Before long her pants increased and her body began to tense, her cries turned to screams as she tightened around him with impossible strength, her sweat-slicked body bucking against the desk as she found release.

Only sheer force of will kept him from following her into orgasm, only the overwhelming urge to keep this moment going kept him from releasing into her willing body which lay before him so open.

He gave her a few minutes to breathe, still hard as a rock as he withdrew from her. Hermione seemed to notice this little factor too and reached out with one small, ink-stained hand to finish him off. He stopped her before she could touch him, knowing if she did he would spill then and there, and instead used his grip to help her off the desk, once again turning her so she faced away from him.

He urged her to bend over the desk and let out a shuddering breath when she did exactly as he asked. Hunching over her, he plunged back inside her tight passage, almost howling with pleasure when it welcomed him like a glove.

Remus lost the rest of his careful control then, the beast content that it had given their witch her pleasure twice and now becoming intent on gaining its own. He thrust into her almost violently, his hips becoming a blur and his fingers gripping her hips with bruising force. She cried out beneath him, her hands flexing against the desk, but never once did she tell him to stop.

Once last time he began to feel her tighten around him, her voice hoarse as she spoke his name over and over, but he was too far-gone to hear her. His stomach muscles bunched as he wrapped himself around her torso, thrusting several more times before sweet release washed over him.

He became aware of the warm body beneath him in slow degrees but it was several minutes before he found the strength to lift himself off of her and then another minute to gently peel her limp body off the ancient wooden desk, stumbling them both over to the couch.

"Are you okay?" he asked her gently, brushing the hair from her eyes as he lay down and tucked her against his chest.

"Mm," she hummed, yawning as her eyes slowly opened to stare up at him. The lazy, satisfied look he found there did everything to settle his disquieted nerves.

His fingers sifted through her hair as his breathing slowly returned to normal and the nap he had been desperate for earlier suddenly seemed like the perfect plan for the rest of the afternoon.

"Do you think Sirius heard us?" she asked, breaking the quiet.

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but a muffled voice from the floor above answered for them.

"Me and the rest of bloody London!"

Remus started to chuckle at the absurdity of the whole situation, Hermione finding the humour too after a moment.

"I wouldn't laugh," came the reply, as a set of feet stomped down the stairs, getting closer and closer to the library door, "You two owe me a bottle of whisky. And remind me next time not to make stupid suggestions if it ends with the two of you shagging like bunnies…" But the rest of Sirius's tirade faded as he continued to stomp down the stairs, the front door slamming behind him a moment later.

Remus didn't hear the rest of it anyway; he was too absorbed in the witch on top of him and the hidden talent she was whispering about in his ear. It seemed he was going to have to wait for his afternoon nap after all, but this time he wasn't going to mind a bit.

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