Chapter IV

Returning home, he once again stood in the foyer, but no music or delicious smells greeted him this time. The house was strangely quiet. Looking to the desk in the hall, he saw Hermione's note, saying that she had taken Teddy for a walk and would be back after some errands this afternoon. Blessed, blessed silence, he thought, heading to the library. Picking up Hermione's book, still sitting on the end table, he sat down and began to read.

Several hours later, Hermione returned home with a very sleepy Teddy in tow. She called out briefly, letting Remus know they were home, and took Teddy off to the kitchen for a light dinner before putting him down for the night. Remus heard them come in but was too engrossed in the book to bother getting up. At least, that's what he told himself, not willing to admit that he wasn't sure that he wanted to face her just yet. After a while, he heard her take Teddy upstairs and sighed. He couldn't let her put Teddy to bed too, not after she'd been with him all day. It was a rare but welcome respite from fatherhood, but it wasn't fair to just assume that she'd take care of it, even though she did such a good job with him. Getting up, he marked his page with a different bookmark and headed upstairs.

"Hi, Hermione. How was your day?" Remus asked quietly as he watched Hermione change Teddy into his favorite Quidditch-patterned pyjamas.

"Went well, actually," Hermione replied, eyes glued to Teddy as he struggled to shove his fist into the wrong sleeve. "We went to the library and then to the ice cream parlour, where your son decided that maraschino cherries were better ammunition than dessert, but he settled down after a nice stroll through the park. He even got to play with the neighbour's new puppy." Remus smiled. It sounded like they'd had a lovely afternoon, and for a moment he wished he'd been out with them. "How was your day? Did Severus like the chapter? What did he think of your ideas?" She lifted Teddy into his crib and whispered, "Good night, Teddy; stay here all night, and we'll have a special treat in the morning." The little boy mumbled sleepily, his eyes barely open.

Remus went over to his son and kissed him on his forehead, smoothing back his hair...purple, today...and wondered why that gesture seemed so unlike the same one last night. Nodding his head toward the door, he motioned for Hermione to follow him downstairs. Once they were headed downstairs, he answered, "I'm not sure. He didn't read the chapter while I was there, so I can only assume that we'll hear something if he thinks it's bollocks." Hermione giggled quietly at the thought of the word "bollocks" coming out of Snape's mouth. At the bottom of the stairs, Remus came to a decision. Turning to look at her, he said, "Here's an idea. You've had your hands full with Teddy today. That means, young lady, that you are going to sit down and relax while I cook us up some supper, and I don't want to hear another word about it."

She looked back at him gratefully and said, "That sounds lovely, Remus, thank you. But only under one condition...that you and I are taking the night off. No work, no studies, no research. Just relaxing, perhaps putting on some more of that music you enjoyed yesterday, or some light reading."

"That, Hermione, is perfect." Remus followed Hermione into the library, where he poured each of them a glass of Chianti. "Victoria, was it?"

"Yes, that's who we were listening to yesterday. I have other recordings, though, that I think you might like," Hermione responded as she sipped her wine.

"Well, if they're as good as that one was, I think that's exactly what I'm in the mood for this evening." Remus grabbed the book from the end table where he had left it, and said, "By the way, I've also started reading this. Quite enjoyable, really. Been meaning to read it for ages, so I'm glad you're forcing me to finally do it."

"Forcing you, eh? Is that what I'm doing," Hermione said teasingly. "I don't recall a wand to your head and saying 'Cervantes or death,' Remus."

The older man laughed as they walked into the kitchen. He handed her the book and said, "Even if you had, I'd have still been glad to have read it." Rummaging through the pantry, he started pulling out the ingredients for a pasta fra diavolo that would go nicely with their wine. Starting the garlic to sautée on the stove, he went into the foyer quickly, and came back with two vials. Sitting with Hermione at the table, he handed hers to her and said, "Severus asked me to give you this, by the way." Uncorking his own potion, he downed it in one gulp and picked up his wine immediately to mask the unpleasant taste.

Hermione blushed and said, "Oh, thank you, Remus. I should have known Severus wouldn't forget." Uncorking hers, she too swallowed it all in one go and followed it with another sip of wine.

"He's never asked me to bring anything to you before. I'm glad to see you were expecting it," Remus said, a bit curious as to what it was.

Hermione looked at him out of the corner of her eye and said quietly, "Severus has brewed me my ... monthly potion ... ever since I was a student at Hogwarts. I was always ill during that time, and the regular potions didn't work, so he's concocted me a special, extra-strength brew for years now."

A bit embarrassed that he had asked, but glad that she confided in him, he raced to change the subject. "Why don't you read me a bit while I cook?"

She took a rather large gulp of her wine...Chianti was her favorite; it had nothing to do with the fact that she had just talked about her time of the month with Remus...and opened the book to his page. She read the next chapter to him as he added in tomatoes, herbs and spices, and they laughed at Don Quixote's antics as he skillfully deveined the shrimp and set them to cook. Before either of them knew it, they were three chapters further into the book and each of them had a plate piled high with steaming pasta.

Topping off their wine glasses, Remus sat and looked at his plate with delight. While he still had cravings for rare red meat at times close to the full moon, at any other time he reveled in cooking exquisite dishes. Hermione inhaled, then moaned in pleasure.

Remus stiffened; that sound was almost ... erotic. He masked his sudden interest by picking up his fork and digging in, urging her to do the same.

Hermione was glad to do so. That had been no mere acknowledgment of a delicious meal...that was the type of noise she made in her bedroom. Where had that come from? Careful, she urged herself, you cannot, under any circumstances, let him know what you're thinking!

After the second bite, though, she moaned again, a bit softer. This was utterly delicious, spicy, rich, and intoxicating, and she told Remus so. He blushed a bit at the compliment, but didn't deny it. He dug in with fervor, and it was all Hermione could do not to watch each strand of pasta disappear between red-stained lips. Excusing herself hurriedly, she got up from the table, ostensibly to turn on the stereo. She went into the library and stood there a moment, trying to compose herself. Why was she having such a difficult time, today of all days? She knew she had had feelings for Remus beyond friendship for some time but she had always been able to tamp them down by reminding herself that Remus was still healing, and she would never do anything to hurt him or make his life more difficult. It wasn't easy to shut off her feelings, but she had always been able to do so...until today. Maybe it was the wine. She'd have to watch that when she went back to the table. Hurriedly she put one of her recordings on the stereo and returned to the kitchen.

Remus seemed not to notice her discomfort, but instead remarked on how beautiful her choice of dinner music was. "What is it this time, Hermione? More Victoria?"

"No, this time I went with something a bit closer to home. Same time period, though. This one is by John Wilbye, I believe," Hermione responded, happy to have a neutral subject to discuss, even though her eyes kept flickering back to his lips, and she wondered how the sauce would taste if she could just kiss the corner of his mouth ... She dropped her fork with a clang. Merlin, girl, she thought, get a hold of yourself!

"Are you all right, love?" Remus asked concernedly. Did I just call her love? he wondered idly in his head. I couldn't have, shouldn't have, but she looks so beautiful tonight, and every time she slides that fork into her mouth I want it to be me, and ... dear Merlin, where did that thought come from? Covering his confusion with another large gulp of wine, he returned his attention...and his gaze...to his dinner.

"Oh, oh yes, sorry, I just ... dropped my fork," Hermione squeaked. Did he just call me love, she wondered, and for goodness' sake, why did the sight of his fingers so delicately cupping his wine glass make her want those same fingers cupping her bottom?

Remus found himself recognizing the song on the stereo. Wilbye it was indeed; his mother had had quite the penchant for English madrigals, had wanted him to sing in the cathedral choir until his ... affliction ... rendered that an impossible dream. Still, this piece he knew by heart. "Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting, which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours, and then behold your lips, where sweet Love harbours, my eyes present me with a double doubting. For, viewing both alike, hardly my mind supposes whether the roses be your lips or your lips the roses." It wasn't until he looked up and caught Hermione's intense stare, those gorgeous lips slightly parted, that he realized he had been speaking the words out loud. If possible, he flushed even darker, but found himself unable to break her gaze. To his sheer and utter surprise, she didn't look away, or blush, but instead lifted a shrimp to her lips, and ... sucked.

Dear Merlin. He watched helplessly as her dainty tongue cleaned every drop of sauce from the shrimp, as she nudged it, bit by bit, between her red, wine-stained lips, as she licked the last bit from her perfect fingertips. He must be dreaming. He must be dreaming! Wake up, Remus, before you make a fool of yourself, he screamed silently at himself. But instead of stopping, she stood up and slowly walked to where he sat across from her. As if in a dream, she leaned down, never breaking eye contact, and ran her tongue across his lips, tasting him. Her eyes darkened as she stood back up, watching him, watching his reaction. He could hardly contain himself; it felt as though every fibre of his body was on fire, demanding to be touched. She moved even closer, placing her hands on his upper arms, and kissed him. This was no tentative peck or friendly gesture. This was total onslaught, lips on lips, tongue around tongue, teeth clashing, biting. Remus moaned, low in his throat. How was it possible that she could taste like fra diavolo and yet so utterly sweet? But...but this was wrong, this was wrong, this was Hermione, his friend, and even though she started it, it wasn't right to take advantage of her youth, her friendship, in this way. With a groan of frustration, he pulled his face away from hers, panting for air.

But Hermione was not to be dissuaded so easily. Dimly in the back of her mind she wondered where on earth this sudden burst of nerve had come from; she had longed to do this for so long, and suddenly it was like she had no inhibitions whatsoever. But she didn't care. She had to touch him, tell him how she felt...no, show him how she felt. How much she wanted him. Moving around behind his chair, she placed her hands on his shoulders, gently massaging his tensed muscles, and felt him relax marginally. Slowly, she lowered her head to his and began to nibble on his ear. He jerked, surprised at the sudden touch, but her hands on his shoulders wouldn't let him stand up out of the chair. Her skillful tongue delved into the nooks and crannies of his ear, finally stopping to circle lazily around his earlobe. His mouth went slack, and his hands clenched and unclenched in his lap. He was dying to touch her, to touch himself, but ... he just couldn't. It wasn't right, even if Hermione seemed to think that it was.

Her hands slid lower, across his chest, lower, to his waist, and back up, coming to rest on his nipples. She palmed them slowly, feeling them grow even harder with every circle. Her tongue worked its way lower as well, trailing from his earlobe down his neck to that point where his shirt met collarbone. He didn't think it was possible, but his mind grew even fuzzier with every touch. It was harder and harder for him to remember why this was so very wrong. After all, she obviously was demonstrating affection for him above and beyond the bounds of friendship, and she obviously wasn't at all appalled by his age. But it was wrong, wasn't it? Merlin, remember why it was wrong, man, he pleaded with himself, or I won't be held accountable for my actions!

Just then, her fingers pinched his nipples, and something inside him snapped. With a feral growl, he stood and faced her in one swift move. Without a word, he grabbed her and pressed her up against the wall behind the table, pinning her shoulders there with his hands and lowering his face to hers. He kissed her fiercely, tasting her as deeply as she would allow, before he moved his tongue to her ear and repeated her actions. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she slumped against the wall, overcome by the sensation of his bristly cheek against hers. She moved her hands back to his chest and began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He growled and tossed his head in the air, finally whispering in her ear, "Don't do that unless you mean it."

She paused for a second, as though considering, and without hesitation continued to unbutton his shirt. Remus groaned and grabbed his wand, vanishing their clothes with a flick of his wrist.

Hermione gasped at the sudden coolness on her skin and leaned into Remus' warmth, pressing her lips to his chest and working her way to his nipple, running her tongue in circles around the hardened nub. Remus, in turn, ran his hands down her sides to her pert bottom, cupping it as she had earlier fantasized about, squeezing, then sliding his hands back up to her beautiful breasts, copying her motions with his thumbs.

Looking up at him with an expression of sheer lust on her face, Hermione boldly slid one of her hands down and encircled his incredibly hard cock. Remus almost lost control at that point; it had been so long since anyone, including himself, had touched him in that way. Growling, he grabbed her hands with his and in one swift motion had them both pinned in one of his fists above her head. She spread her legs wantonly, leaning up against the wall for leverage. Remus grinned evilly and ran his free hand up one thigh into her warm center. She was deliciously wet and ready for him, and although he wanted desperately to taste her, he knew he couldn't wait much longer.

With wolf-like strength, he scooted Hermione up the wall with one hand until she could wrap her legs around his waist, and with one swift thrust, he seated himself inside her. Feverishly, he thrust into her over and over again, moaning his lust into her ear as she tightened her legs around him, until, with one final spasm, they came together. Remus let go of Hermione's wrists, moving his hand down to her hip and helping her to her feet. The remainder of their dinner was left on the table as they went upstairs to bed.

***

The next morning proved awkward, to say the least.

Hermione woke first, only to find herself in a strange bed...naked!...with Remus! A second later, the memories of last night's adventures in the kitchen, and the others in this bed, came flooding back, as did the blood to her face. What on earth had possessed her? She had never acted like that in her life...not with Viktor, not even with Ron. She...she had seduced Remus! Oh, now she'd gone and done it. What must he think of her? Did he feel used? Did he think she'd taken advantage of him, or had had too much wine? Oh, Merlin's bloody beard!

Shortly thereafter, Remus awoke to the pleasant sensation of warm, smooth skin pressed against his. Hazily he wondered who it might be, and a moment later, he remembered. Everything. Remembered vanishing their clothes, remembered taking her up against a wall, remembered ... shite. Shite, shite, shite. What on earth had possessed him? He'd never acted like that in his life...not with Sirius, not with Tonks. He'd let her work him up into a bloody fever, and then he just ... took her, without so much as a by your leave! Oh, she was going to hate him, he just knew it. Damn.

They were both aware of the other being awake, but neither wanted to be the one to break the silence. Fortunately, Teddy intervened, bawling loudly at a wet nappy and wanting his moo moo, whatever that was. Both of them hastily said, "I'll get him," jumping out of bed and hastily searching for clothes, until they remembered that they had come upstairs without any. Hermione blushed and, grabbing one of Remus' robes from the door, fled the room without a word. Damn and double damn.

Remus collected Teddy and took him downstairs, fixing them all breakfast and nice, hot tea. Tea would solve it. Tea always solved everything. After a while, a conservatively dressed Hermione joined them at the table. "Good morning, Remus," she said very formally.

"Good morning, Hermione," he rejoined. "Did you sleep well?" Blast. That probably wasn't the best thing to ask, now, was it, you dolt, he thought.

She flushed faintly and responded, "Yes, actually. You?"

He nodded, sipping his tea, unsure of how to proceed.

"Remus, I..." Hermione started to say.

"I'm so sorry, Herm..." Remus began.

The two laughed uncomfortably and motioned the other to continue. After a distinctly awkward pause in which they sipped their tea a bit too quickly, Hermione started again.

"I don't know what came over me last night, Remus. I'm so sorry if I in any way offended you, or took advantage of you, or made you feel uncomfortable. I've never acted like that before, and I'm completely embarrassed by it," she blurted out, fidgeting with her tea cup and pretending to clean Teddy, who hadn't even had the chance to make a mess yet.

Remus sat back, astounded. She thought she had taken advantage of him? No, no no no! "Hermione, it is I that should apologize to you. I've never behaved like that either, and I feel like a lecherous old man. You have nothing to be sorry for. I should have had better control of myself," he finished quietly, utterly ashamed of his behavior.

Hermione gaped at him. Remus was anything but a lecher, and after all, she had seduced him, not the other way around. "No, Remus, you have nothing to be sorry for! I started it, after all. I just ... don't know why," she muttered, still trying to understand her complete change of behavior. Remus winced and looked down at his tea cup, misunderstanding her statement. Looking at his face, she realized what he must have thought she meant. "Oh...oh no, that's not what I meant at all. I know why I did it, I just don't know ... how, or where I got the nerve, or ... something," she said hastily, trying to rectify the situation.

The older man looked up sharply. The nerve? "The nerve to do what, Hermione?" he asked, intent on her answer.

"The nerve to ... to seduce you, I suppose. Or ... Oh, bloody hell, just to kiss you, Remus. I've been thinking about it for ages, but I just never had the courage to do anything about it. I didn't know how you'd react, I didn't know what you'd think of me...if you'd even think of me. And I didn't want to ruin our friendship. You mean so much to me, Remus. I didn't want to lose you," she spoke into her tea cup, afraid to meet his eyes.

His gaze softened. So. So and so. This hadn't come out of nowhere, this wasn't some side effect of the wine and some glorious music. She had real feelings for him...for him! "Hermione," he said gently, "I've felt the same way, for some time now. I just ... never thought that you'd see me as anything but your old professor, as some cranky old werewolf. But I'm awfully glad that you do, love."

Hermione looked up at him, startled, and seeing the serious look on his face, she smiled, suddenly lighthearted. He wasn't mad at her...in fact, he was apparently quite pleased that this was all out in the open. Well, will wonders never cease, she thought.