It all started with a book ... ...

In the library


A/N: 09/01/2005: It has been brought to my attention that chapter 4 was missing (Thanks Lil!). I have also decided to cut out all my responses to my lovely reviewers. It seemed awfully crowded (don’t know what came over me) and they have hopefully read it by now anyway.


Disclaimer: None of this belongs to me and I am not making any money off it.

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A/N: So, had to write this (beats me why though) and some unexplained inner force made me post it now. Really, can’t explain that. *scratches head, then shakes it*

Yes, it has been done before, even with Lupin and with second person narrative. I read a really excellent fic quite some time ago with these characteristics. It had a great amount of chocolate and Lupin in it and now, I felt inspired to write this. (although I’ll be cutting short on the chocolate, I think)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!


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You’re entering a huge library in muggle London, finding yourself surrounded by mainly students and every so often you catch a glimpse of a lone individual who has devoted most of his life to books. You yourself count as one of them, although today you are here for some research. You know your way around an within seconds you find the section you were looking for. There are more books about your research here than in any official wizard library you have ever been at.

Most muggles don’t even know the wonders that are right under their noses, instead choose to ignore them with a single-minded determination. They wouldn’t accept the truth if it stepped right on their foot and stuck out its tongue at them. Their minds would simply choose the easy way out by ignoring it.

But you haven’t come here to delve into the muggle psyche. The research has not made the progress you had hoped for and as a last resolve you find yourself pulling a book from the self and finding a secluded spot to start your search.

A good forty minutes later, your thoughts are ripped back to reality by someone entering the isolated aisle. He’s back and you don’t mind at all. Oh no. Although you have only briefly spoken with him on the many occasions you met him here, you’re glad that Lady Luck seems to be on your side today. His gaze sweeps over your sitting figure on the floor and a warm smile plays on his lips when your eyes meet. He returns his attention back to the books before him and you are glad for it. It leaves you with some time to study his features.

His faded jeans have some rips in the most worn-out places and it is one of the sexiest things you have ever seen on a still-clothed man. His long legs seem strong and muscular. Your eyes, finally having drunk enough of this exquisite picture, slowly move further up. An old and also faded t-shirt does his lithe torso justice by hugging it in just the right manner to show of the muscles underneath. You can make out that he does not exercise but is naturally gifted with a supple demeanour that comes from being outside on a regular basis. The top is slightly short and when he reaches up for a top-shelf-book you can make out the dark line of hairs running from his bellybutton to beneath his trousers. Mentally, you follow the trail and squirm in your sitting position. A flush has to be staining your cheeks now.

His biceps flexes enticingly and you can’t help imagining him holding you in his strong arms while caressing his broad shoulders. Mentally you shake your head to get rid of the thoughts flooding inside of it and continue the journey on this wonderful specimen of a man.

His hair is a dark blond shade and about eight inches long, with a hint of grey at his temples that gives him the sex-appeal of a man who has experience. It looks rumpled, a look that suits him well. His eyes are an odd light brown colour that boarders onto golden. He has strong cheek and jaw bones and the smile is still playing on his beautifully shaped lips which indicates to you that he has followed your mental exploration of him. That blush is back full force and decides to linger high on your cheeks some time longer than before. You refocus on the book in your hands and try to decipher the symbols, vaguely wondering if it was actually written in English.

You are startled when he sits down on your left side, stretching his long and brawny legs on the floor. Looking at him from the corner of your eyes, he smirks at you before inclining his head and moving his hand on top of yours, half shutting your book and revealing the title to him.

“Lycanthropy, where lies the truth in the myth?” His voice is deep and sensual and it runs electric shivers down your spine. However, you also notice a darkness wash over his eyes and for a moment he looks very troubled and tried. Older than he should. He catches himself and smiles again, showing of his perfect teeth and his longish canines.

“Personal interest or research?” He questions and you notice for the first time that his eyes really have golden flecks in the irises.

“Primarily research but chosen due to personal interest.” Hah, no one can beat you at ambiguity.

He takes the book from your hands and stands up gracefully. Without much looking, he places it back onto the place you previously picked it up from and moves to crouch in front of the bookshelf in the corner next to you. Lightly, his fingers skim the spine of each book until he dislodges one and hands it to you with another killer smile.

“This one pins it down to the truth, the other one has quite some false and even absurd information in it.”

You wonder how he can be so sure but you do not doubt his judgement, especially as he resumes his place next to yn thn the floor and your mind seems to be occupied otherwise.

Both of you are quiet for some time, each mind wondering off to that wonderful distant place that can only be achieved from books.

You hear locomotion some rows down and you notice the familiar voice of Colin Creevey. You never really paid him any attention but he seemed to have taken an interest in you when you first met. Generally he takes some shots of you, ensuring that your irritation towards him never subsides. Knowing that hoping for him to be out and about without that camera of his is like wishing not to get wet during a monsoon rainstorm, your mind forms a plan for self preservation. Drastic moments call for drastic measures and your body, without waiting for the approval of your newly developed strategy, moves and you find yourself straddling the beautiful male you have admired so often before.

He looks a bit shocked but in his eyes you can see a twinkle of mischief.

“Please play along until that git with his camera is gone, ok?”

Without waiting for an answer, you place your lips on his. Both of you are rigid for a few seconds but soon mouths are moving and before you know what is happening, tongues are exploring. You forget where you are, what you were doing and the Creevey-kid as you loose yourself in the intoxicating kiss. His smell engulfs you, a smell of nature that seems to be distinctly his.

Your hands snake up and entwine in his hair pulling him closer while your fingers caress the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. As a response, his hands move towards your waist and he strokes your skin revealed between your jeans and top. Finding a particular delicate place, you moan softly and he just pulls you tighter while sucking your bottom lips between his and nipping on it.

You want this to never stop, as it is the best snog you have experience in …well, you can be true to yourself at least so: in all your life. In fact, you would not complain if this little session would move a step or three forward. Somewhere in your brain a tiny voice reminds you that you are in a public library, but it is squashed by the fact that his mouth has moved on and is now kissing and sucking his way along your neck.

You squirm due to pleasure and he stops for a moment and takes a deep breath. Nice to know what kind of effect you can have on this man, who now resumes to lick underneatur eur ear. Vaguely, you hear yourself moaning and notice it must be quite loud in the tranquillity of a library but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

A shocked gasp behind you indicates that Colin has found two snogging people on the floor. You know he is far to much into his photos to explore any part of his sexuality properly. That was the plan you formed, as you knew he would leave when coming across a scene like this, without looking into the identity of the persons.

Your earlobe is currently being sucked into the warm depth of his mouth and you can hear him mumble, “I think he’s gone,” before he licks the outer shell of your ear.

“Mmhm,” is all that is left of your otherwise vast vocabulary and you move your head to give him more access. He continues.

Finally you notice something poke your left thigh. You trail one hand down and pull something long and wooden out of his pocket. He stops and a look of shock is written on his face. You notice he is racking his brain for an explanation, that, in your case, is uncalled for.

“My, my, what have we here?”

“That’s, ehm, that’s for … well.”

You lean into him and whisper into his ear, “If you give that kind of explanation to a muggle, I think the whole Wizarding world would risk definite exposure.”

His body relaxes as he realises you must be a witch and the fact that you are holding his wand in your hand does not really need an justification. He smirks and snatches it from your grasp.

“Witch.” He chides but smiles wonderfully and completely takes your breath away. Again.

“Got that right.” You inform him smugly

You remember you are still seated in his lap but the fact that he is still holding you to him by the waist, causes you to stay. Not that you mind. No, not at all.

You feel it necessary to break the silence and considering you know more about the inside of his mouth than anything else, the following seems to be the most appropriate question to start things off with.


“So, what’s your name anyway?”


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TBC.