A Midsummer\'s Journey

AN/ Thank you for the lovely reviews. This is not a smut story but a \"cough\" love story. GrrArg well I am glad you are seeing the HG/RL possibility ( I too am a HG/SS shipper but I think the lovely werewolf is a nice catch too) Sky- yes it was up at the Werewolf Registry (dont know why they took it down it is only R rated though I mighice ice up a scene or two) This story was wrote in April 2003 so does not reflect things that have happened since OotP..

This man hath bewitch\'d the bosom of my child;

Thou, thou, thou hast given her rhymes,

And interchanged love-tokens with my child:

Thou hast by moonlight at her window sung,

With feigning voice verses of feigning love,

And stolen the impression of her fantasy- A Midsummer\'s Night Dream

***

He woke up feeling extremely rested and very warm. It was nice to be so rested; it had seemed a very long time since he had slept so soundly. His eyes popped open wide as he realized that something was resting slightly on top of him. Glancing down quickly, he saw a tumble of gold-brown curls spread out across the downy quilt, and only the top of a forehead sticking out. Hermione? When had she come down, and why was she laying here, er, almost on top of him? Had something scared her and she could not wake him up? Worried, he glanced around the room. Though it was morning, it was still quite dim, thanks to the tumultuous rain that was still beating against the windows. The fire had burned down to only a few embers. Nothing seemed amiss.

He had felt terrible last night. The trek through the rain and night had chilled him to the bone. He must have fallen asleep while thinking of the letter he had received from Sirius. Hermione stirred, but only to move in closer, snuggling in under his arm, as he lay there pondering whether to wake her up or feign sleep so she could leave as inconspicuous as she had came. A smile played on his lips as he felt her hand under the layers move up to rest on his chest. It was a pleasant way to wake up, warm and cozy with a beautiful woman draped over. Buggers, lets not go down that route again, as he felt his body begin to take meaning to his words. This is Hermione, my ex- student. Moony, old boy, get a grip, he chided. But still he couldn\'t help thinking how nice it was to wake up like this, as his arm that was causally draped over her tightened and he drifted back into sleep.

Hermione awoke with a start. I must have over-slept, she thought, and started to get up when she realized something was holding her down. A moment of panic swept through her. Oh no, remembering where she had last been. Fearfully, she raised her head out from under the quilt.

\"Good morning,\" said a pleasant voice cheerful
H
Hermione closed her eyes again and turned her face away from Lupin\'s smiling face as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

\"Did I miss something last night?\"

If possible, her cheeks burned hotter as she heard theth bth behind his question. She wanted to scramble up and away quickly, but found she was quite hindered as his arm was around her, holding her tightly to his side.

\"You. I. it was cold,\" she stammered, wishing she could slide back under the quilt and disappear as she hesitated for words.

\"I see. Yes, I remember it was quite cold, though I must say I am as warm as toast right now.\"

Damn, why doesn\'t he let me up?

\"Er... Prof. Remus... Could you.\"

\"Something wrong, Hermione?\"

She thought his voice had grown a bit husky.

\"I think I really do need to get up.\"

\"Something stopping you?\" he asked, sounding puzzled.

Starting to get angry, she turned her face to him, seeing his bemused smile, his gray eyes twinkling at her. He looked so boyish her anger melted, and she giggled. A small laugh escaped his lips. \"I must say it is rather a nice way to wake up, warm as toast, that is,\" and they both laughed, though his hold on her had not lessened. Still giggling, she tried to pull out of his arm, and reluctantly, she thought, he loosened his grip, letting her slide out, rather than moving it away.

Still blushing, she found her slippers and started to pull the quilt away to wrap herself in it, but Lupin held on. \"I think I need to stay warm a bit longer; thanks,\" he said, smiling at her. Shivering, she giggled and raced upstairs to get dressed.

He lay back and stared blankly at the ceiling. He did need to stay there a bit longer, but not because he was cold. He couldn\'t remember the last time he had been so warm, a bit too warm to be presentable to arise. Get a grip, Moony, though it only reminded him that he had not wanted to loosen his grip on her.

At breakfast, Hermione explained to him why she had joined him on the couch. Putting his fork down, he looked at her somberly. \"Thank you, Hermione, for your kindness and concern.\" He was holding her gaze with those wistful eyes. \"And I must apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way.\"

She blushed slightly and shook her head.

\"Well,\" he said brightly, wiping his mouth and standing up, \"shall we continue with your lessons this morning? Unless you want to work in the garden that is, though I would suggest taking gillyweed before going out today.\" Hermione laughed, rising to join him.

***

Glaring at him, she pushed her hair that refused to stay in the braid she wore out of her eyes. Eyes twinkling at her, he spoke the words that released her from the hex he had just put on her.

\"Concentrate, Hermione, you know the schematics of the blocking spell, you are just not concentrating.\"

Anger fading, she knew he was right. They had been practising hexes all afternoon. She was irritated at herself for her wandering mind. Lupin had thrown hex after hex at her and she had failed to block them. His barely disguised humour had not helped her mood. It was just that he was so confident in his skill. At first, it had been she who threw hex after hex at him. He had successfully blocked or dodged them all, with an ease that made her envious. \"I\'ve had more practice,\" he told her when she bemoaned her ability, feeling as if she was just entering school, not even knowing what a hex was.

\"A break then,\" he said, going to the stove to put the kettle on.

Picking up the book, she went over the blocking spell again, waving her wand in the perfect arch. Damn, it was his fault her mind kept wandering. She didn\'t want to admit it, but she kept thinking of how nice it felt to wake up in his arms this morning. Lying on that hard body, feeling so warm, safe... Silly git, don\'t go romanticising about your professor, though she was having a hard time considering him as old enough to be her professor. How come he looked so bloody young? And as far as looking like her ex- Hogwarts professor, never, she thought. He had worn Muggle clothing as she had since that first day in the garden, except for the day he went out. Surmising he done this to make her feel more relaxed, it only made her more aware of him.

Bringing her a mug of hot chocolate, he settled in the chair opposite her, eyes still twinkling with bemusement.

\"Don\'t be so hard on yourself. Evidently, you have something on your mind. Would talking about it help?\"

Choking on the scalding hot liquid, she k hek her head, flushing.

\"You are doing splendidly, Hermione,\" he told her honestly. \"You know I think you are the cleverest, most talented young witch I have ever met.\" And bewitching, he thought before he could stop himself.

\"With your talent, Remus, you should have been an Auror,\" she told him, then realized what she had said. \"Oh, I\'m sorry. I know, I mean, you couldn\'t work at the Ministry.\" she faltered.

Waving his hand, he brushed her apology away. \"Thank you for the compliment.\" They finished their chocolate in silence. Thinking of her comment he remembered....

\"Class dismissed, excellent everyone; cover chapter seven, dealing with pseudo demons for next week. Remus Lupin, please stay a moment.\"

\"You\'re in for it now,\" Sirius laughed, jabbing him on his shoulder as he passed.

\"Probably wants to know how an idiot like you ever got into Hogwarts,\" Remus said good naturedly, as he returned the jab.

When the last student had left, Professor Brightenwood closed the door to the DADA classroom. Leaning on a desk, he smiled at Lupin.

\"I wanted to have a quick word. What do you plan to do when you leave Hogwarts?\"

Remus was caught off guard. \"I don\'t know,\" he answered honestly. How many options are open to a werewolf? he thought bitterly.

\"Well, I have a proposition for you.\" He was clearly excited. \"You, my boy, are the most talented wizard I have had the pleasure in teaching in this class for many years. You have a natural calmness that allows you complete control in DADA.\"

Control, yes; natural, if you only knew, he thought, but still curious.

\"I want you to consider joining the Ministry when you graduate next month. You have top marks on you NEWTs and I will give you the highest letter of recommendation. They need you, Remus, you would be an excellent Auror.\"

Swallowing hard, Lupin felt the familiar bitterness rise to his throat. Join the Ministry? They wouldn\'t let him step one foot inside their pristine offices when they found out what he was. \"I am honoured that you would think of me Professor, but I have no desire to become an Auror.\"

Professor Brightenwood\'s face fell. \"Are you sure? You don\'t have to decide right now. Take time, think about it.\"

\"No, I am afraid I won\'t change my mind, but thank you for the offer, Professor. Sorry I disappointed you.\"

\"You haven\'t disappointed me, son, I just hate to see talent like yours wasted. I am sure whatever you choose to do, you will do fine.\" Disappointment still evident on his face, Professor Brightenwood gave him a smile, and left the classroom....

Damn.

\"I think a change of venues might be in order. Tell me, Hermione, what spells are you interested in learning?\"

She spoke quickly, and he knew she had thought about this before. \"I would like to master the Expecto Patronum. Harry tried to show it to me after that night he drove the Dementors away from Sirius, but I have never been able to master it.\" He nodded. \"And the Imperius Curse.\" It was his turn to choke on his chocolate.

\"I don\'t mean I want to learn how to use it,\" she explained quickly, \"but how to overcome its effects. Professor Moody or whoever he was, put us under that in our fourth year, but Harry was the only one to ever throw it off.\"

Clever girl, his respect for her deepening.

\"I think we can work on those. Of course, your Patronus will need a target eventually, but I probably can find a boggart in the forest. And if you trust me, I can put you under the Imperius Curse.\"

A thought struck her. \"You won\'t get into trouble, will you? I mean, it is an unforgivable curse.\"

Smiling, admiring her concern for others, he reminded her that the cottage was undetectable from the outside including the magic used inside. \"Unless you decide to turn me in, I will be safe,\" he teased. \"If you are ready, we can start on that now.\"

\"Have you ever used the Imperius on anyone before?\"

Hesitating, he told her the truth. \"Yes, during the last time the Order worked against Voldemort. But I assure you, it was only to stop someone from getting hurt.\"

She looked at him with amazement. He had just confessed to using an unforgivable curse. It warmed her that he trusted her with that.

\"Want to change your mind?\" he asked.

\"Oh no, I trust you, Remus.\"

Smiling, he took out his wand. \"Ready? Imperio.\"

The dreamy, floating feeling of total relaxation filled her. As from a far away place, she heard his voice, or maybe it was his thoughts. Hop on your right foot. Sounds like a good idea, she thought, and began hopping.

He watched her as her expression became dreamy, relaxed. His first thought projection had her hopping on around the room. Now the other leg. Switching legs, she continued hopping. He needed to do something out of her nature to start the fight in her, and had an idea. Stop hopping. Go upstairs and bring me your grandmother\'s quilt.

When she had returned with the quilt, he took it from her, speaking a word of magic, he returned it to her. Throw it into the fire.

He saw the flicker in her eyes as she heard his command. My gram\'s quilt? I couldn\'t.

Throw it into the fire. Watching her eyes, he saw the beginnings of the argument in her mind. Then suddenly, she walked to the fireplace and tossed it in. A small whimper escaped her lips as she reached in to retrieve it. Grng hng her before she burnt her hands, he released her from the curse.

My gram\'s quilt! Becoming very angry and hurt that he would do something like that to her, she started to speak, but her words were silenced, as he turned back to her, the quilt safely in his hands, unscathed.

\"A protection charm,\" he explained, wishing he hadn\'t done that to her, seeing the wounded look on her face. \"I just needed to do something that would make you fight; I am sorry. I think we are finished with our lessons for today.\" She nodded, looking sadly down at the quilt she clutched in her arms.

He wouldn\'t risk putting her under again. It wasn\'t just the wounded look, though that pained him deeply; he was sensing that something was wrong.

***

They were reading comfortably that evening before the fire, when Hermione looked up suddenly. \"Music?\" A smiled played at his mouth, as he sat there feigning he hadn\'t heard her. \"A witch wireless,\" she said delightedly, noting the small black box sitting on the table. \"Where did that come from?\"

\"Haven\'t a clue.\" Noting her delight, he was glad he had borrowed it from the Wisenbery\'s.

The song ended, and another began, a waltz. He noted the wistful look on her face. \"A favourite?\"

\"No, just a memory.\" She explained about the Yule ball during her fourth year, and Victor Krum. \"It seems like a long time ago. In a gentler time.\"

Standing, he offered his hand. \"May I have this dance, Miss Granger?\" Smiling, she took his hand. When the song had ended, a fast-paced song came on, and he shook his head. He could still manage a waltz or two, but he couldn\'t even fathom the kind of dance one might do to such a thunderous cascade of music. Tugging at his hands, she wouldn\'t let him out of it.

It was her turn to be bemused as he kept shaking his head in protest at the Muggle dance she was trying to teach him.

The music changed again, and a soft love ballad began. Thinking this was a time to sit down, he was caught off guard as Hermione moved into his arms and laid her head against his shoulder. His hands moved down to rest on her back as they circled slowly to the music. Thinking of how perfect she fit into his frame, he was keenly aware of her aroma, the sweet smell of musky roses, and of the soft flesh of her breast pressed against his chest. Lost in the music and her soft body next to him, he began running his hands slowly up and down her back, barely touching the fabric of her shirt. He nuzzled her hair, breathing in the citrus her shampoo must contain.

Feeling the warmth and comfort in his arms, she closed her eyes letting the music flood into her being, unaware that she pressed closer to him, her arms encircling his neck. He smelled good, his clothes held the scent of cedar mingled with myrrh. She felt his heart beating beneath hers, the firm chest and raised her head.

They stopped moving, opening her eyes, she saw him looking at her, his eyes smoky sea searching. His hand moved to cup her cheek, the thumb tracing a line down her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. His face was only inches from hers, and she saw his lips were parted; she wasn\'t imaging it this time. He\'s going to kiss me, as she too parted her lips.

He broke away suddenly and ran his hand through his hair. Damn, he had almost kissed her, those sweet full lips that had been so ready for a kiss. That couldn\'t happen. Mustn\'t happen, he told himself; gaining his composure, he looked at her.

Her face flushed, she bir lir lip as she appeared deep in thoughost ost for words, he didn\'t know what to say, how to explain what almost happened. The song ended and an advertisement came on for Helga\'s Handy Housewife Helpers. The squeaky jingle was a bad imitation of a house elf finishing, \'Helga\'s Handy Housewife Helpers, more handy than a house full of house elves\'. She giggled.

The spell broke and he smiled at her;be sbe she would just take it as a lark.

At the top of the stairs, they bade each other good night, though it was many hours before sleep came to the house, as each examined their feelings about the events of the day.