“You are fairly adequate in defending yourself from known curses and hexes. I daresay you are better at defense against the lesser known variety, Granger.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Hermione said, knowing that was as good a compliment as she would ever receive from Alastor Moody. Pushing her sweaty hair away from her face, she looked at the grizzled old auror, remaining on the defense in case he attacked again.
She was in her first year of auror training but had quickly grown impatient with the speed of the proper courses. Reading from books, learning things she had known for years, and very little practical knowledge had led her to requesting Moody train her during her free time. Thankfully, he was bored since the War had ended a few years ago and he’d agreed. Two nights a week, they met at Grimmauld Place, having converted a spare bedroom into a training room.
Her training with Moody had been going well, in her opinion. She was learning a lot from the famed auror and had grown tolerant of his brusque manner, aware now of when he was giving a compliment wrapped in sarcasm. Tonight had been exhausting. He had started throwing curses and hexes at her nearly an hour ago and she honestly felt more worn than she had after the final battle against Voldemort. A warm shower and sleep were in her future, she decided, wondering if he was finished for the evening.
“We will now move on to something far more difficult than silly curses and hexes.”
Guess that answers my question, she thought ruefully. “What would that be, Sir?”
“We have covered how not to get caught fairly well over the last few weeks. Now we will deal with defense if you do happen to get captured by the enemy.” Moody removed the flask from his hip, taking a long drink, his good eye trained on the pretty young witch while his other twisted to look at the locked door. Noticing her longing look at the flask, he almost felt his old body react in a way that was entirely inappropriate, easily imagining her looking at him with that look. Snorting, he rolled both of his eyes. Perhaps fifty years ago when he was still a strapping handsome wizard she would have been infatuated, plenty of witches were, but certainly not now.
Besides, the girl was a bit like a daughter to him, though he’d never admit to caring for anyone because he had seen how emotion could be used against you. Regardless, he would not continue to dwell on his lecherous thoughts regarding this bright, courageous young girl. No, the lurid thoughts that a certain resident of this house had about Granger were plenty. Smirking slightly, he offered her the flask, watching through narrowed eyes as she took it gratefully and drank. The plan was now in effect. If that bloody wolf fucked this chance up, well, he’d go hunting come the next full moon and make himself a nice rug.
Hermione drank eagerly from the flask. Several of his hexes had hit her during their training, leaving her parched and tired. It was only after she started to lower the flask that she noticed her eyesight starting to blur. Her legs grew weak and she felt herself starting to fall, caught by a smug word from Moody. The old wizard took the flask from her, tsking under his breath.
“Constant vigilance, Granger! What have I always taught you children? You must never trust anyone, no matter how familiar. Did you know that I have a tolerance for most poisons? I also have a tolerance for various potions that can affect one’s control.”
“What was in the flask?” Hermione didn’t feel scared, knowing that Moody was eccentric but trusting him not to hurt her. However, she wanted to know what she had been given so she could prepare herself for the effect.
“Do you think the evil scum that capture you would tell you what they used?” He snorted, shaking his head, “I expected better of you, Granger. Use that brilliant mind of yours to figure out what you’ve been given while I go get the volunteer for the next stage of your training.”
Hermione watched him hobble out, her mind rapidly moving through every known poison and potion she had catalogued in her brain. She knew he wouldn’t poison her. Would he? Bloody hell, he probably would, especially if it was part of her training. She sat down, her vision growing more blurry and her head feeling stuffy. It was getting really warm in the room, sweat dripping down her back and her shirt sticking to her wet skin. Shrugging off her robes, she was wiping her face when the door opened. Moody hobbled back in, a smug smile on his face, as respect flashed in his good eye when she tried to raise her wand to curse him.
“Bloody hell, Moody. What have you done?”
Oh no. Please no. Anyone but Lupin. Her eyes looked over Moody’s ample shoulder at the doorway, locking with the hazel eyes of the man she had fancied since she was a teenager.
“It’s auror training,” Moody snapped. “The little girl wants to be an auror, she needs to learn not to trust anyone! It’s not gonna kill her, but it’s commonly used on captured aurors, especially pretty witches like her.”
“You have gone too far,” Remus said sharply. “Giving her *that* sort of potion? She’s just a child.”
“That girl hasn’t been a child since she was in nappies.” Moody scoffed, “You keep telling yourself she’s too young but you’ve noticed how she’s grown up, how she’s filled out. Look at her, Lupin. You think the bad guys aren’t going to use any opportunity to get inside that tight body? They’ll have her on her knees with their cocks in her mouth and up her wet cunt before she has a chance to protest. It’s a risk she takes by becoming an auror and, damn it, I’m going to do my best to make sure she can defend herself against that type of attack!”
“He’s right,” Hermione spoke up softly. “I need to learn every defense, Lupin. I would rather die than be raped.”
“In the past fifty years, there have been only two cases where an auror was assaulted in such a way. Even during the War, such intimate attacks were basically non-existent. Unlike Muggles, Wizards do not result to such violence with witches, even aurors,” Remus replied. “Give her the antidote and let me take her to her room.”
“No,” Moody said lowly. “If I recall, you eagerly volunteered to assist me with the training once you heard Granger was involved. Perhaps you’d rather I ask Snape? I am sure that old snake won’t hesitate in playing his part.”
“He will never touch her,” Remus growled softly, anger flashing in his eyes at the very idea of that bastard touching Hermione.
“Then play this game by my rules,” Moody said simply.
“The potion, it was a lust potion?” Hermione asked suddenly, her body feeling even more inflamed since Remus had entered the room. She was fighting the urge to cross the room, push him to the floor, and ride him until they were both spent. Of course, such impulses had accompanied thoughts of the quiet wizard since she was sixteen so she was unsure what was caused by the potion and what was caused by her own desires.
“Very good,” Moody smiled proudly. “It is not a traditional lust potion, but it is a black arts potion often used by dark wizards. You will feel your body become heated and you will be driven by your base desires. Lupin, get over there and touch her.”
“Miss Granger, I apologize for his actions,” Remus said quietly as he moved to her side. “I am aware that your behavior is influenced by the potion so do not feel ashamed.”
“God, just touch me,” Hermione moaned wantonly, reaching for his hand and placing it on her breast. “Yes,” she hissed, arching forward towards him.
“Granger, if you are caught in this situation, it would be wise to fight the potion instead of begging for your captor to have at you.” Moody was highly amused and rather pleased that he had succeeded in his plans, but he kept his voice gruff. “The wrong sort of wizard would not hesitate in fucking you until you were nothing more than a pile of used flesh and possibly keeping you for his own lascivious purposes. Such an outcome would not be pleasurable for you nor would it be a suitable fate for one with such potential.” Deciding to make things even more interesting, he waved his wand, whispering a word, “Boundiosa.” Watching in satisfaction as she was bound to the chair by magic, her perky breasts heaving against her shirt, her legs spread slightly, her hands secure beside her.
“You bastard!” She fought against the invisible bonds, knowing it was pointless. There was something horribly wrong with hearing the word ‘fucking’ from Moody. It was also terrible to be bound in this way, the slight leer in Moody’s good eye giving her the creeps even as she was confident he didn’t think of her in *that* way. Hermione wished Remus would stop being such a gentleman and take advantage of the situation. He was touching her as if she was glass and she was certain he was disgusted with his part in this training lesson. Oh God, what if she disgusted him. She fought against the potion, turning her head away from Remus, refusing to give in to the desire building within.
“Good girl,” Moody remarked, honestly surprised she was doing so well in fighting the potion. His intentions were to prepare her for the possibility of being caught and used in such a way because it had happened in the past and he wanted his protégée ready for any possibility. However, he had also deliberately chosen a time when Lupin was around to be the volunteer because he was growing tired of the ridiculous looks of lust and casual flirtation happening between the Professor and his former student. Lupin would refuse to make his desire known because he believed the girl was too young, but Moody had observed them for years and was smart enough to know they fit in a way many were not lucky enough to find.
He was by no means matchmaking because such a word was revolting and brought to mind silly old women gossiping over tea. No, he was merely using a training exercise as a push for the two of them to stop their infernal sighing and sappy looks that gave him nausea. It was a service to those around them, everyone finding their behavior sickening and wishing they’d just shag all ready.
“How can I fight the potion?” Hermione asked, her eyes still glazed with lust as she looked at Moody.
“It acts in much the same way as Veritaserum. There is no way to fight it completely, but you can resist if you are strong enough. Resistance, however, could possibly be more dangerous than succumbing. If you allow the potion to run its course, you can regain control quickly, possibly saving yourself in the end.”
“How?”
“Lupin will explain.”
“Miss Granger, you must allow your lust to be satisfied. The most simple solution would be self-gratification. If you are unable to,” he was blushing, his cheeks scarlet as he stammered out his explanation, “touch yourself in that way, you must find the easiest method to gain release.”
“This is so embarrassing,” Hermione muttered, her own face as red as Remus’. “Moody, when this lesson is over, you’d better run like Hell because I’m cursing your crazy old ass with spells you’ve never even heard of, I promise you.”
“I will be prepared, Granger,” Moody smirked. “Constant Vig.”
“Shut up!” she glared at him before turning her attention to Remus. Forgetting about Moody or the potion, she lost herself in his hazel eyes. Well, she was never one to let an opportunity slip past her. Whether it be centaurs in the Forbidden Forest with Umbridge or a chance to do things she had only ever fantasized about with Remus, she was going to take her chance.
Remus was fighting with himself. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to finally taste the girl in front of him. On the other, he knew she was under the influence of a strong potion and he could never take advantage of her in such a way. She meant far too much to him. However, when she looked at him like that, with a hungry expression that stirred the wolf within, well, he was only human. Taking a step closer, his hand moved along her cheek, feeling her heated skin beneath his palm. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said even as he lowered his head.
“I need you,” Hermione said before brushing her lips against his.
Remus snapped when her lips touched his. No longer keeping the tentative control on his desire for this beautiful witch, ignoring the voice of reason reminding him that she was young enough to be his daughter and that she was merely reacting to him because of a potion, he let go. His tongue swept into her mouth as his hands moved behind her back. With a whispered word, she was no longer bound to the chair, though her arms were now secured behind her back, forcing her breast forward. Pulling her flush against him, he heard her gasp when she felt his obvious erection against her stomach.
Moody gathered his things when he saw that he was no longer needed, having no desire to be a voyeur for what was to come. Walking towards the door, he wondered if he should tell them that the potion he had used had worn off by now. Hearing the moan behind him, he smiled. Nah, he’d tell them later. Without looking back, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Wanted this for so long,” Remus muttered before kissing her again, his hand finding her breast and squeezing. Her nipples were hard, poking against the thin fabric of her cotton shirt. She had great breasts. Neither too big nor too small, just the right size to fill his palm, he explored them thoroughly, moving beneath her shirt to palm them without the barrier of material.
“Please, Remus,” she moaned, finding it easy to say his name in this situation. Her arms hurt from their current position behind her back and she wished he’d release the spell, but she didn’t complain as his thin lips moved over her cheeks and down her neck. When she felt him nuzzling her, nibbling her, she rubbed against him, her knickers soaking wet.
“I can smell your arousal, Miss Granger,” Remus said huskily. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you? You want me to fuck you so hard you can’t walk for days. Or do you want me to be gentle? Lap at your sweet cunt until you’re begging to be filled, wanting nothing more than my cock inside you.”
“God yes.” She couldn’t believe the words he was saying, the roughness he was displaying. She’d found him attractive before, having a crush on him for years and waking from her first naughty dream with his face in her mind and her hand between her legs. During her most vivid fantasies, he had been like this. Predatory, possessive, rough, yet also the gentle, intelligent man she had first wanted. Perhaps this was nothing more than a dream, she thought with disappointment. It was not a lust potion but a sleeping draught.
“You’re mine, Hermione,” he purred her name, letting it roll off his tongue in a way that caused her knickers to become even more slick with her juices. “Do you accept my claim on you?”
His hand slid into her jeans, his middle finger rubbing against her sensitive clit as he spoke. Unable to look away from him, she nodded. “I’m yours, Remus. Always and forever.”
At her words, he released the spell keeping her arms bound. Her hand tangled in his sandy brown hair, the other moving beneath his shirt to touch his bare flesh. With a desperate look in his eyes, he shoved her against the wall, his hands quickly unfastening her jeans and pushing them and her knickers down. The scent of arousal was thick, her cunt so wet that her upper thighs were gleaming. He rubbed his thigh against her as he used his foot to finish removing her pants. The shirt was ripped open, baring her breasts to his heated gaze.
“Mine,” he growled before his lips enveloped one rosy nipple. She was riding his leg, his trousers soaking with her juices. Her skin was flushed with desire, slick with sweat and now his saliva. Moving to kneel before her, he spread her legs, inhaling her scent. Looking up at her, his hair disheveled from her hands, he smiled wolfishly before declaring, “Mine,” right before his face was buried in her delicious cunt.
“Oh fuck,” Hermione cried out as his tongue moved along her lips. Her head hit the wall rather hard as she felt his face moving against her. No one had ever done this for her before, her only lover never inclined to do more than the standard shagging. Ron had loved for her to take him inside his mouth, an act she’d found something disagreeable because he’d always thrust forward and choke her.
He had never once gone between her legs in this way, even when she’d shown him the book on sexuality that said it was fairly common. He thought it disgusting, claiming it smelled and didn’t taste good at all. He had never been keen to try anything out that she would read about, no matter how much research she presented on the positions or practices being enjoyable and pleasurable to both partners. They had parted as friends, a mutual decision that their relationship was not going to work, but one reason Hermione had not been broken up regarding the end of the affair had been the fact that it always seemed like something might be missing in bed. There had also been the fact that, even then during seventh year, she had spent her dreams with Remus.
All thoughts of Ron left her mind as Remus use his fingers to spread her open, his tongue plunging into her sex and lapping at every bit of flesh within reach. She whimpered when he thrust two fingers into her, twirling and twisting them, touching places Ron never had with his cock. His lips moved over her clit, sucking and licking as she rode his hand. It wasn’t long before the world exploded.
Her orgasm hit her so hard that she slid down the wall, unable to stand as she gasped for breath, his hand holding her arse to keep her from falling. When she felt his finger slide between her cheeks and slowly enter her back there, she bucked forward, moving against his face and hand. She was kneading her breasts, making sounds she didn’t know were possible, becoming accustomed to the finger inside her bum, the orgasm seeming to continue endlessly as waves of pleasure continued to sweep over her body.
Remus stood, unfastening his trousers with wet hands. Pushing them down and kicking them off, he felt her hands rip open his shirt, the sound of buttons pinging on the floor causing his cock to throb. His lips claimed hers, sharing her unique flavor with her, her body moving against his, her hand finding his erection and stroking it as he moved between her legs. His hands moved to her arse, raising her a bit, his cock sliding against her wet cunt, teasing her with what would soon be inside her.
Releasing her lips, his eyes met hers as he leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. Using one hand to hold her, he moved his other to her face, his finger tracing her cheek and lips. He should stop, really he should. She was under the influence of a potion, not acting of her own free will, but was always the nice guy, the one who never went after what he wanted. This time, he had to be a selfish bastard, he had to take what she was offering, consequences be damned. He gave her one last chance, asking softly, “Mine?”
“Yours,” she whispered before thrusting down and impaling herself on his cock. “Remus!”
“Hermione, God…so bloody tight,” he groaned, feeling her squeeze him as she tried to adjust to his width. She fit him like a glove, made for his cock to be inside her. He began to move, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back inside. He was so aroused that he knew it wouldn’t take long. This had been a fantasy of his for far more years than appropriate, even Sirius realizing the way his gaze lingered on the pretty sixteen year old friend of Harry’s, finding it amusing that noble and good Lupin had fallen for a child. What would Sirius say now? He could only imagine, probably wank while watching and saying lewd things before joining them.
“Come inside me,” she urged as she rode him, her fingernails digging into his back as he went from kissing her to sucking her neck to licking her breasts. He was too thin, his hair peppered wit gray, his skin pale, his chest baring scars from his transformations, but she thought he was beautiful.
“Can’t,” he said breathlessly. “Haven’t done the spell.”
“It’s okay. I’m on Muggle birth control. I want to feel you inside me, Remus.”
Remus kissed her, feeling his release approaching. He adjusted their position so he rubbed against her clit with each thrust forward. It didn’t take long before she was tightening around him, her cry of release caught by his lips. It only took four more strokes inside her before he was following her, grunting as his seed spilled into her. Afterwards, when he was spent and they were both breathing raggedly, he kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” she warned, pulling his head back so she could look at him. “You didn’t do anything that I haven’t wanted for years.”
“The potion, you don’t know what you wanted, Hermione,” he sighed, staying inside her as long as possible. “I took advantage of you.”
“No, I took advantage of you,” she smiled slightly. Arching a brow, she said snottily, “Really, Remus. The potion Moody gave me? It only lasts half an hour unless it’s given in a stronger dosage. He may be crazy, but he’s not going to hurt me.”
“You mean, it was, you weren’t,” he stammered before slowly smiling. “You naughty little girl.”
Giving him a wicked smile, she said innocently, “I supposed that means I need to be punished, Remus. Perhaps a spanking?”
The End.