Chapter Text
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24th July 1979
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The sensation of lips ghosting feather-light along the curve of his jaw drew Remus from his sleep, but he kept his eyes closed and savoured the moment as he felt Hermione burrow closer to him. She slung a leg over his as she pressed her body to his side and he moved slowly, snaking the hand that had been pressed against her back down to give her arse a good squeeze.
Hermione let out a surprised squeak and buried her face into the crook of his neck as she mumbled, “Good morning.”
“Bore da, Cariad,” Remus replied, his voice throaty, thick with sleep. “What's on the schedule today? More world saving, aye?”
“Mmhmm. Gaunt shack today, but we've got a few hours.” Hermione trailed a hand down his side to rest on his hip, and he tightened his hold on her arse to drag her on top of him. His cock, already rock hard from sleep, pressed insistently against her stomach as she laced her fingers together on his chest and propped her chin atop them to look up at him. He raised a hand to brush the curls back from her face, then cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, then turned to place a kiss in his palm.
“You're so pretty,” Hermione sighed, and Remus chuckled, the corner of his mouth tilting up into a sleepy smile as he shook his head.
Pretty.
Remus had been called a lot of things in his life–far too many to name–but pretty? From her, this beautiful, brown eyed girl with her crazy hair and her sinful little smile, calling him pretty? It was silly. Categorically incorrect. He was scarred, scrawny, a bit long in the tooth. But when she looked at him like that, he felt–
Everything.
She could call him handsome, pretty, ridiculous, fuck, she could call him a toad and he would believe it. He did believe it. Not necessarily the toad part, of course, but all the rest. It didn’t matter if he were conventionally attractive, it didn’t matter if not a single other soul on the earth agreed with her.
Hermione Lupin –he refused to call her anything but, in his mind–was never wrong.
“Aye,” he kissed the tip of her nose. “How on earth did you get so lucky?”
“I manipulated the hands of fate and bent the fabric of time itself, so I could lay on your chest and tell you how gorgeous you are,” Hermione yawned.
“My favourite little saviour,” Remus murmured.
“You flatter me, but you should be fucking me.” Hermione moved to sit up, straddling his thighs, and Remus’ hands flew to her hips on instinct, slowly creeping up her sides as he shoved her shirt– his shirt–up and off of her, leaving her bare atop him. His eyes traced the line of her neck, down her shoulder, catching, as they always did, on the little spot that screamed mine just above her shoulder before he continued his visual trek downward.
Gods, she was a work of art. Skin that looked sunkissed no matter the season, that little dash of freckles over her collarbone, “Perfect fucking tits,” he spoke aloud as his hands found her breasts. Heavy and full, but still small enough that they fit perfectly in each palm as he squeezed and rolled his fingers, tweaking her nipples just the way she liked.
Hermione let out a shaky little gasp and arched into his touch, and he flashed her a lazy grin as he continued his journey, trailing his fingers down the flat, smooth plane of her stomach. It was mesmerizing, the way she came alive under his hand, so reactive to his touch– made for him.
“Six thousand, seven hundred and four days,” Remus spoke as he moved to sit up, leaning back against the headboard as he lifted her hips and repositioned her in his lap. He nuzzled his face into her neck, and she sighed in contentment, running her fingers through his hair as he drew in the familiar peppermint-and-chocolate scent of his mate.
“That’s a lot of days,” Hermione giggled and rolled her hips, grinding down against his straining erection.
“Aye,” he scraped his teeth down the side of her throat, and she rewarded him with a needy little whimper. Pressing his lips to her mating mark, he kissed it reverently, soft little presses of his lips as he continued, “A lifetime of days that I’ll never know how I survived without you.”
“And a few more, until you came home and sunk your teeth into me,” Hermione gripped his shoulder with one hand as the other began to move down his chest and over his stomach to wrap around his throbbing cock.
Remus sucked in a breath and nipped lightly at her scar, whispering, “Impatient, needy little witch,” against her flesh.
“I am,” Hermione sat up straighter, her eyes locking with his as she notched his cock at her entrance and began to sink down. “Only for you, love.”
“Mine,” he agreed, gripping her hip and helping her along as he stretched her. She took it like a fucking expert, every time, and it never ceased to amaze him. Remus wasn’t blind to certain…areas, in which he was gifted. Even aside from the lycanthropic feature he’d been surprised to discover his cock could even perform, he knew he was, in fact, gifted in the dick department.
Longer than average, sure, but the girth–thick was putting it mildly. Perhaps other men would have postured about, been full of themselves– cocky, if you will–if they were working with what Remus was, but he’d never gotten a big head–pun only mildly intended–about it. Before this, before her, he’d been quite certain he would never use the thing anywhere other than his hand, so the point had been moot.
Now, he simply didn’t need to be outwardly egotistical about what he had going on in his pants, because it was only for her. But oh, it was for her, and here, in their room as he looked down to where they were joined to watch her tight, dripping little cunt slide down his cock–
Yeah, maybe he was fucking full of himself, but Hermione was full of him too, and the world was right, so sod it all. Perhaps he’d earned a tiny bit of conceit.
She sank down farther until he was fully seated inside of her, and let out a breathy moan as she placed her hands on his thighs behind her and arched her back, showing off the slight bulge in her lower belly.
Fuck , she knew just how to unravel him.
“Look at you,” he cooed, tracing a finger along the faint line of his cock through her skin. “Look at how easily you let me ruin you, Cariad.”
“Not ruining.” Hermione shook her head and ran her hand down her chest, trailing her fingers over the valley between her breasts, then settled her palm against her stomach and pushed, causing them both to suck in a breath.
“Claiming,” she continued. “Every part of me, every time you touch me, it’s like you’re sealing your claim on me, over and over.”
“Aye, Cariad,” Remus sat up straighter and ran his hand down her leg, guiding her to plant her foot on the mattress. She complied in an instant, quickly positioning her left leg in the same manner, and he smiled up at her as he leaned in to scrape his teeth along the top swell of her breast. “There you go, baby. Open up for me. Just like that.”
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing the stiffened peak with his teeth as he pressed one hand to the space between her shoulder blades and gripped her hip with the other, guiding her to roll as he began to thrust inside of her.
Hot. Tight. Perfect.
“Creu dim ond ar gyfer hyn, onid oeddech chi, cymar bach?” Remus asked as he pulled back to watch her face. That was always his favourite part. Mapping out every little pout of her lips and pinch of her brow as he ruined her, memorizing the way she looked when she gave herself to him.
“Creu dim ond ar gyfer hyn, onid oeddech chi, cymar bach?” he repeated, “ Say it. ”
“Kray…” Hermione pressed her lips together and gave a cute little shake of her head before she tried again. “Creu…dim…”
“dim ond ar gyfer hyn,” Remus finished for her, punctuating each word with a sharp thrust of his hips. “Created just for this, weren’t you, little mate? You can do it, baby.”
“Creu,” Hermione repeated, “dim ond ar… oh, gods, Remus, I can’t… Please. ”
“Shhh,” he whispered against her lips as he leaned in to kiss her, snaking a hand up to tangle in her curls. “You will. Creu dim ond ar gyfer hyn. Get it right, Cariad. And then I’ll let you drench my cock, aye?”
“Creu d-dim ond ar…fuck, I’m too close, I can’t–”
Remus tightened his grip on her hair and pressed his forehead to hers, darting his tongue out to lick along the seam of her lips as he thrust harder inside of her–long, punishing strokes, just the way his girl liked it best. “Say it, and you can cum. You’ve got it, Cariad. You’re such a good girl, doing so well for me. Try one more time, aye? Creu dim ond ar gyfer hyn.”
“Creu dim on..ond, ond, Creu dim ond ar hyn,” Hermione whimpered, digging her nails into his shoulders as he felt her cunt begin to flutter around him. He opened his mouth to correct her, but she shook her head as her breath began to stutter, sharp little gasps of air that seemed to be running in tandem to every nudge his cock made against her cervix.
“Creu dim ond ar gyfer hyn. Made for you, fuck…created just for this, Remus, please –”
“Good girl,” he grinned, crashing his lips to hers as she exploded, flooding his lap. Her cunt tightened around his aching cock, squeezing him so tightly that he was close to following her over the edge in no time–too fast, but fuck, the feel of her, his mate, falling apart around his cock made it impossible to fight the urge.
He thrust harder, chasing his release with a desperate, frenetic need, and she took it in stride, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and going nearly boneless in his arms as she came down from her high.
“Please,” she panted, nibbling at the side of his throat as she spoke, “Need it, Remy. Let me feel you.”
“I will, baby. It’s all for you,” he cursed under his breath and turned his fist in her hair, wrenching her head to the side as his mouth latched on to her scar. The feeling nearly unwound him in an instant–that delicious, delicate little spark of pleasure they shared any time he touched the brand he’d bitten into her flesh was unlike anything he’d ever known.
She was unlike anything he’d ever thought could possibly exist, at least for him, but he refused to dwell on the laundry list of reasons why he would never deserve this perfect puddle of a witch in his lap. She was his, and he was whole, and there was only this.
Her breath against his skin, her scar between his teeth, her cunt squeezing his swelling knot until he came with a grunt, flooding her womb with a million promises he couldn’t wait to fucking keep.
Remus clung to her tighter, moving his mouth back to hers and kissing her slowly, tenderly, until his mind finally right itself from the dizzying, primal euphoria of mate and knot and breed, breed, breed. Collapsing back against the headboard, he reached for the quilt to pull it over them, and Hermione busied herself placing, loud, smacking little kisses across his collarbone as he summoned his cigarettes from the nightstand.
“I like you,” she declared. Remus laughed and shook his head, then reached for her arm to help her sit up straighter as he passed her a cigarette and set the ashtray on his chest. He folded his free arm behind his head and took a drag, his eyes scanning her flushed face and wild hair frantically.
He wanted to remember her, just like this. To bring her to this blissed-out state of being every day for the rest of his life. To lock her in a fucking room, and–
“Oooh, Moony thoughts?” Hermione tapped a finger against his temple. “That shade of gold might be my new favourite colour.”
“Aye,” Remus nodded, ashing his cigarette as he gave her a playful smirk. “Moony thoughts, indeed.”
“And what’s on your wolf-mind today? Holding me hostage? Fucking ninety-seven kids into me? Tying me to the bed?”
“Careful, little witch. You keep talking like that and we’ll never leave this room.” Remus squeezed Hermione’s thigh, causing her to yelp, then descend into another fit of giggles.
“Someday, we’ll be done playing hero, and we’ll stay in bed for a month.” She took another drag and stamped out her cigarette, setting the ashtray to the side before she leaned forward to lay on his chest. He reacted out of habit, moving his hands to her hair, and she let out a blissful little sigh.
“Braid it tight today, please. We do have to go play hero soon.”
“Right. The ring,” Remus clenched his jaw, but forced himself to breathe, to relax. It would be fine. One step closer to getting this shit over with. Perhaps, when the war was done, he’d bubble wrap his witch, so that his wolf could rest a little easier. The constant stream of stress and danger was driving him barmy, but for her?
The fucking world.
Not that Hermione was the only reason he wanted to see an end to the war. He wanted to see a better life for their friends, for himself, for everyone else, for all the good reasons, of course. But for her, he’d fight a million wars, back to back.
Even if it did make him all golden eyed and bitchy.
“It’s going to be okay, love,” Hermione murmured against his chest. “We’ll get the ring and come home, and maybe we can curl up in the library and read tonight?”
“That sounds perfect,” Remus craned his neck back to smile at her, then slipped the hair band off of his wrist, tying off her braid before he patted her on the back. She sat up, running a hand over the braid to examine his work, then gave him a grateful smile.
“You’re knot’s gone down, so I’m gonna go to the loo,” Hermione climbed off of his lap and kissed him quickly before she reached for his shirt and pulled it over her head. She stood, reaching for the pyjama pants he’d discarded on the floor the night before and stepped into them, and he stifled a laugh as he watched her tighten the drawstring and wrap it around her waist before she tied it off and turned to pad out of the room–the hem of the pants covering her feet entirely.
“Don’t trip,” he called after her.
“I’m nothing if not graceful, thank you very much,” Hermione giggled, pausing in the doorway to turn and look at him. “You really are so pretty.”
“Gods, I love you.” Remus shook his head.
“As you should,” she stuck her tongue out, then added, “Love you too. Why don’t you have a bit of a lie-in, try to finish that chapter you dozed off on last night? I’ll be back with coffee.”
“But I like getting our drinks in the morning,” Remus pouted playfully.
“Shut up,” she turned, laughing again as she pulled the door shut, and Remus stared at the wood for a beat before he stretched his arms over his head and reached for the book on the nightstand. He intended to do exactly as she’d suggested and try to get through another chapter or two of ‘The Long Walk’ –if only to look for more evidence to support the argument he, Hermione and Regulus had been having about the supposed author.
Richard Bachman, by title, but Remus knew a Stephen King novel when he read one, whether they wanted to accuse him of drawing false parallels or not.
When he picked the book up, though, his eyes caught on the journal resting on the nightstand beneath it, and he pulled it into his lap on instinct. Call it silly, but it really did help him to sort out his mind for the day when he started with a bit of writing. Journal now, Bachman the imposter later, then.
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J,
I want an entire house full of little girls with her laugh and her ridiculous hair, stealing my jumpers and climbing all over me every morning when all I want to do is sleep in. I want to stand behind her, just as I do now, and watch her rule the world as soon as she’s done saving it.
I want to wake up every morning to those chocolate eyes looking at me exactly how she does now. I want to live a life full of love, where loss once lived. Losses that I’ll never bear the weight of, because this incredible little witch danced through time and into my life, and she loves me like I’m a man worthy of every great thing the universe has to offer.
I want this war to fucking end.
I want to sit our children down some day, when they’re old enough, and tell them everything their brilliant mother did for me, for our family and friends, for the entire bloody world. I want to watch their eyes alight with reverence as they look at their mother and realize what I’ve known all along.
Hermione Jean Lupin is the greatest thing this stupid, difficult life has ever conjured. I’ll never be a man who deserves her, but fuck if I’m not selfish enough not to care. If I died tomorrow, I would grab whatever god or gods await me by the collar and beg them to put me back in so I can relive every moment with her.
I want this war to fucking end.
And today, thanks to the queen of the fucking world, we’ll be one step closer. She’s downstairs right now, making me a cup of coffee. I can hear her humming Tom Petty, and the little shuffle of her feet that lets me know she’s dancing–always dancing, always all lit up with a simple kind of joy that everything she’s been through has never quite been able to snuff out.
Sometimes I want to pinch myself. I’ll never understand how this is my life. This is the part where I’d say I’m lucky, but luck had nothing to do with it. My mate threw herself through time, on purpose, to give me and the others a life worth living, and journal, how the fuck am I going to top THAT as a wedding gift?
Suppose I should start brain-storming now, because this war is ending and I’m marrying the fuck out of my witch.
Dreadfully, pathetically in love,
RJ
P.S– I just need it in writing that I refuse to believe Richard Bachman is not a pseudonym for Stephen King. Coming back to this to add weight to my ‘I told you so’ when my wife and my brother-in-law either finally believe me or King admits it.
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The ground exploded, and the noise reverberated through Remus like someone had stabbed him in the ear drum. He winced, nearly dropping his wand as he pressed his hands to his ears and screamed–stupid fucking werewolf hearing.
He righted himself almost immediately, his head on a swivel as he looked for her. She was panicked, but…no pain. Good. Thank fuck.
“Hermione?!” he screamed so loud his throat burned, but then she was there–barely visible through the cloud of dust and debris.
“Safe,” Hermione gestured to herself with her wand hand. “See? I’m fine. It’s okay.”
Remus felt a wave of relief–visceral, all-encompassing as it washed over him. Safe. Safe, fuck, he needed to get to her, to touch her, to feel her skin beneath his hands, even if only for a moment before they ran back to the fight. He took a step forward, eyes locked on her like an anchor, but then he caught sight of a blur of movement behind her. Something–no, someone, disillusioned, it seemed–was closing in on her from behind. Remus’ chest grew tight just as she spoke again.
“Remus? Something’s wrong.”
“Baby, go! Apparate, now!” he screamed, but it was too late. She jolted and her eyes went wide as she swayed on her feet. Remus glanced down at the chasm between them, then looked back at her one more time.
“I’m coming, Cariad, hold on,” he took a few steps back to give himself a running start, then leapt, jumping over the few feet of broken, cavernous pavement and earth between them and landed in a crouched position, bracing one fist on the ground to push himself up–
And she was fucking gone.
“ HERMIONE!!!” He roared. His hand flew to his ring finger, but just as his fingers brushed over the ridges of the little sun etched into the silver, he went still.
“Remus? What’s wrong?” James asked from somewhere to his left, but he ignored him as he scanned the makeshift battlefield.
She was gone. He’d been right there, so close to grabbing her, to getting her to safety, but someone fucking stole her away, and she didn’t even have her ring. His hands began to shake, a cold fury licking its way up his spine as he raised his wand and began to move.
James called after him, someone else–Brad? Sirius? Remus didn’t know, couldn’t bring himself to care as he plowed his way down the middle of the street, flinging binding hex after binding hex at every masked, robed figure he could see. The urge to cast to kill, to watch the light leave the eyes of anyone who may have played even the slightest hand in taking her away from him made his skin burn, but somehow, he managed to tamper his fury.
He moved with precision, deadly calm, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt. Death was too easy of an out. He needed them captured, questioned–fuck, he’d hold them down and beat the answers out of them himself if he had to. He needed to find her, to get to her before whoever had taken her could hurt her, to–
“Remus,” Lily’s hand clasped down on his wrist and he stopped in his tracks, sucking in a ragged breath through his nose as he shook his head.
“Let me go, Lils, I need to–they fucking took her,” he choked out, the salt of the tears he hadn’t even realized were streaming down his face flooding his senses as he turned to look at Lily. “They took her, and I can’t get to her, and I don’t–I, Lily, I can’t. ”
“I know, Rem,” Lily took a step forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, and he broke, sobbing into her hair as she ran a hand up and down his back in a frantic attempt to soothe him.
“I need her, Lily. I can’t do this without her, and I don’t know who has her, or if she’s safe, and I’m so fucking angry I feel like I’m going to vibrate out of my skin and she’s not here, ” he rambled, stepping back to gesticulate wildly with his hands. The street was calm, now, flooded with aurors, no fighting in sight, but Remus barely noticed.
“I know, Remus. I know you need her. I get it more than ever, now,” Lily reminded him. “But you have to calm down and listen. It’s Mary.”
Remus furrowed his brow and looked to where Lily was pointing. There, down the street near where Hermione had been taken, a number of people hovered over the prone form of… “Mary? Oh, fuck, what’s–”
“She’s gone,” Lily choked out. “I got to her just as the explosion went off, and she…her injuries were too bad to…but she grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me down and she said… she said, um ‘Dumbledore. I saw…’ and then…she went.” Lily sobbed and reached a hand up to swipe clumsily at her tears. “I didn’t know what she meant, until James said Hermione was gone, but–”
“That mother fucker,” Remus spat through clenched teeth. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Okay,” Callie spoke from behind Remus, and he spun on his heel to face her. “But before you can kill him, we have to find them, so let's go home and regroup.”
“Home? No, fuck that, I need–” he shook his head wildly, gripping his wand tighter, but before he could finish, Moody clamped a hand down on his shoulder.
“Remus, we will find her. But you need to get out of here, now. You just captured a dozen of these fuckers in less than a minute, and you’re in no position to have to answer a million questions for paperwork. Potter!” Moody turned his head and yelled for James, who held a finger up to Gideon and Peter and jogged over to them.
“Potter,” Moody repeated. “Get your boy home and get a stiff drink in him, then come down to the office. I’ll expedite the paperwork on this shit and file a missing report for Hermione, see what resources we can pull.”
“Got it,” James nodded and turned to Remus. “You okay, Moony?”
“No, he’s not okay,” Callie scoffed. “Let’s just go.”
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I can hear her heart beating from a thousand miles
And the heavens open every time she smiles
When I come to her, that’s where I belong
And I run to her, like a river song
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