Rotkäppchen
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Remus/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
5,351
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Remus/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
10
Views:
5,351
Reviews:
8
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Lick
Title: Lick
Set: Lilac
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR
Summary: #7 – Lick. ‘She waits all night to feel his kiss, but always wakes alone.’ ‘Apart’ by The Cure.
Word Count: 696 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘Little Red Riding Hood,’ you can read the fairy story here: http://www.tonightsbedtimestory.com/little-red-riding-hood/ ‘Vilkas’ is the Lithuanian root for ‘wolf.’
#7 – Lick
“I shall leave you here.”
Hermione could just see the fields and the river beyond the shelter of the trees. It had rained, but on the far western horizon, she could see the setting sun under the blanket of clouds.
“This path runs along the edge of the forest to the path to the cottage. It dips into the wood for a way, but have no fear, it will bring you where you need to be.”
Hermione turned to the man, and looking up into his face, shivered again. He looked much like her old mentor and friend, one who had died too soon. There were differences, of course. The man was not nearly as thin as her old friend, the man was more substantial, power in his frame. Age wise, Hermione only knew that the man was older than she by the silver in his tangled hair, but his face, despite the scars, was ageless.
“Thank you, Mr…”
“I would rather not say, little one. I would rather keep myself anonymous, but if we were to cross paths again, you may call me Mr. Vilkas, it is one of many aliases I use.”
He smiled, wider than before, and for the first time Hermione saw his perfect, white teeth. There was something wild about the smile that reached his eyes and made the brown orbs glimmer in a ray of bloody sunlight.
“Thank you, Mr. Vilkas, I will be on my way…”
His hand grasped hers suddenly, and Hermione stifled a gasp as he bent over her hand and gently kissed the backside of her palm. The contact sent strange pulses through her body, aimed at her womb, and when her eyes grew heavy, it did not matter than his long tongue swiped at her knuckles.
Hermione did not know who this man was, or how he had appeared to her, or why he was assisting her, but she did know that something was amiss about the entire situation. The forest had addled her, made her inhibition and caution weak.
He was tasting the skin of her right hand, and Hermione did not want him to stop. It was the hand she wrote with, the hand she ate with, cast with, and the hand that could curl up into a small fist and deliver a terrible blow if need be. It was also the hand that would slip past the waistband of her knickers and the fingertips that would caress her flesh.
When his mouth moved away, Hermione blinked. Her hand was dry, but the skin was pulsing.
“Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”
She had awoken from a dream, and remembering she needed to return to the safety of the cottage, Hermione turned on the path and began to walk quickly away. She could feel his eyes upon her back, and when the trees obscured her, Hermione began to run.
Remus grinned. The girl was so innocent despite what he could discern from the taste of her skin and the smell of her blood. She was not a virgin, but it did not matter. She was a fighter and so much the better for him… She tasted like everything good and right in the world, but on her fingers, under the bitterness of human soap, he tasted her.
Oh, she was not so innocent as not to know how to pleasure herself, and that thought had him racing along a different path from hers, yet parallel.
He would make it to the cottage before she did, as he knew every path in the forest. Before she had risen that morning, he had repaired the scratches on the door, and followed her every movement in the forest. As she slept, he Charmed the forest to move, the leaves to fall, and confounded her path to safety. It was not only humans that could lay traps.
He was a cunning wolf, far more cunning that a human could wish to be. He would take her in her sanctuary before the moon rose. And when he subdued her, he would drag her into the moonlight and make her his forever.
He was already hard with the thought of it.
Set: Lilac
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: T+
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: AU/AR
Summary: #7 – Lick. ‘She waits all night to feel his kiss, but always wakes alone.’ ‘Apart’ by The Cure.
Word Count: 696 words.
Author's Notes: This set of drabbles is based off of ‘Little Red Riding Hood,’ you can read the fairy story here: http://www.tonightsbedtimestory.com/little-red-riding-hood/ ‘Vilkas’ is the Lithuanian root for ‘wolf.’
#7 – Lick
“I shall leave you here.”
Hermione could just see the fields and the river beyond the shelter of the trees. It had rained, but on the far western horizon, she could see the setting sun under the blanket of clouds.
“This path runs along the edge of the forest to the path to the cottage. It dips into the wood for a way, but have no fear, it will bring you where you need to be.”
Hermione turned to the man, and looking up into his face, shivered again. He looked much like her old mentor and friend, one who had died too soon. There were differences, of course. The man was not nearly as thin as her old friend, the man was more substantial, power in his frame. Age wise, Hermione only knew that the man was older than she by the silver in his tangled hair, but his face, despite the scars, was ageless.
“Thank you, Mr…”
“I would rather not say, little one. I would rather keep myself anonymous, but if we were to cross paths again, you may call me Mr. Vilkas, it is one of many aliases I use.”
He smiled, wider than before, and for the first time Hermione saw his perfect, white teeth. There was something wild about the smile that reached his eyes and made the brown orbs glimmer in a ray of bloody sunlight.
“Thank you, Mr. Vilkas, I will be on my way…”
His hand grasped hers suddenly, and Hermione stifled a gasp as he bent over her hand and gently kissed the backside of her palm. The contact sent strange pulses through her body, aimed at her womb, and when her eyes grew heavy, it did not matter than his long tongue swiped at her knuckles.
Hermione did not know who this man was, or how he had appeared to her, or why he was assisting her, but she did know that something was amiss about the entire situation. The forest had addled her, made her inhibition and caution weak.
He was tasting the skin of her right hand, and Hermione did not want him to stop. It was the hand she wrote with, the hand she ate with, cast with, and the hand that could curl up into a small fist and deliver a terrible blow if need be. It was also the hand that would slip past the waistband of her knickers and the fingertips that would caress her flesh.
When his mouth moved away, Hermione blinked. Her hand was dry, but the skin was pulsing.
“Thank you, sir. Goodbye.”
She had awoken from a dream, and remembering she needed to return to the safety of the cottage, Hermione turned on the path and began to walk quickly away. She could feel his eyes upon her back, and when the trees obscured her, Hermione began to run.
Remus grinned. The girl was so innocent despite what he could discern from the taste of her skin and the smell of her blood. She was not a virgin, but it did not matter. She was a fighter and so much the better for him… She tasted like everything good and right in the world, but on her fingers, under the bitterness of human soap, he tasted her.
Oh, she was not so innocent as not to know how to pleasure herself, and that thought had him racing along a different path from hers, yet parallel.
He would make it to the cottage before she did, as he knew every path in the forest. Before she had risen that morning, he had repaired the scratches on the door, and followed her every movement in the forest. As she slept, he Charmed the forest to move, the leaves to fall, and confounded her path to safety. It was not only humans that could lay traps.
He was a cunning wolf, far more cunning that a human could wish to be. He would take her in her sanctuary before the moon rose. And when he subdued her, he would drag her into the moonlight and make her his forever.
He was already hard with the thought of it.