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“Fuck, Hermione, you smell so good,” Remus growled as he slammed into her plush behind and tried not to come from the soft velvet of her wet cunt. He had her on all fours on his rug in front of a roaring fire, and it was unreal how fantastic the scent of her arousal smelled mixed with the scent of his clean sweat and musk, saturating the air around them while he railed her with all the power his considerable thighs could provide.
He licked a long stripe up her neck, where her scent was the strongest–something milky and feminine and ripe—and then began to suck a series of marks on her neck. He wanted the whole school to know that Hermione Granger was getting fucked, and getting fucked very well. He saw how some of the older students looked at her, and he didn’t like it.
It was probably wrong, on some level, to be fucking a student even though Hermione should have graduated the previous year, but Minerva loved him and loved Hermione even more. While the Headmistress probably disapproved and would have put a stop to things if he had been involved with literally anyone else, she would allow Hermione anything.
Like having a time turner in third year just to take extra classes—harnessing the powers of space and time just so the girl could get an alternative viewpoint on Muggles that she probably already could pick up from her classmates. It was beyond ridiculous. Farcical, even.
But fuck if it wasn’t convenient for the Headmistress to look the other way when Hermione was frequently missing from the Head Girl dorms and found in Remus’ bed instead. Or his study. Or his sofa. Or on his dining room table, being eaten out for dinner, because Remus had been hungry. Felt as if he had been hungry his entire life, starving, even, and now he could finally feast.
Since the Last Battle when he snapped the neck of Greyback with his bare hands Remus had been feeling a lot more at ease with his wolf, and his wolf had noticed Hermione when she returned—the naive idealistic girl gone, a battle-hardened but still sensitive woman returning in her place, smelling like something he wanted to roll around and bathe in. (And mark with his own scent until they mixed so thoroughly that no one would think she was alone anymore—that he was alone anymore.)
And she was sensitive, inside and out. It had all started with innocent touches–a stroke of her hand disguised as an accident when handing back her essays, standing close behind her during DADA demonstrations, talking to her in his office as she made excuses to see him to talk about magical creatures, and of course, werewolves, the sweet scent of her interest making itself known in the air. He had thought he was hallucinating at first, but it was all very, very real.
So of course, being the selfless educator that he was, Remus had to teach her about werewolf body language. He taught her to scent, watch her pupils dilate and breath hitch as he gently ran his nose down the elegant slope of her neck. Taught her to bare her neck in submission to an Alpha–who he was after killing Greyback—and then he had to take a bite because he was the big bad wolf and he was not going to let such willing prey go.
There was no pretending between either of them what things were like after he had brushed his lips and teeth against her neck for the first time, sucking and nipping her delicate skin until she was a trembling mess. There was deep affection there, of course–they had gone through a war together, the quiet recovery after, and he wouldn’t have risked his career for anything less—but at the end of the day they were dealing with raw animal magnetism and it was only a matter of time before they snapped.
When they first fucked, she had told him that she couldn’t take the potion because she had an incredibly rare allergy to silphium seed, the primary active ingredient in the contraceptive potion, and that he would have to pull out.
As a half-blood, he knew about condoms, but there were no places to get them in the wizarding world, and there existed no mystical charm that could block conception. And she never mentioned using condoms, even though he knew her parents worked in healthcare and she knew that his mother was a muggle. So they just…didn’t.
It was incredibly reckless of them to have sex like this, without any form of protection, but it made his wolf very, very pleased. And Remus had spent so much of his life being so very displeased, though displeasure was a massive understatement for what his feelings had been.
He could tell that she got off on it. Every time he entered her, relishing the first stretch of her tight cunt on his cock, the sweet honey scent of her arousal spiked in a way that it didn’t when he entered her with his fingers or his tongue. Remus was only too happy to help, being the selfless hero he was—swaying most of the werewolves to their side and killing off Greyback had given him an Order of Merlin and a permanent position on the Hogwarts staff as the DADA instructor as well as making him some sort of ambassador to werewolf kind to the wizarding world, so he was just doing his part to make sure the future head of the department of magical creatures was very much in favour of werewolves.
In his defence, Hermione was very fond of werewolves, or at least this particular werewolf. And his werewolf dick—he could tell from the way her scent spiked when he talked about knotting, eyes shyly averted, and he could tell that she wanted him to come inside her, because of how sopping wet she would become when he was close, and the scent of disappointment that hung around her like a cloud when he finally pulled out and came all over her pert arse, or soft breasts, or her currently flat belly. He especially enjoyed it when she sat still as he rubbed his cum all over her abdomen, marking her with his scent so thoroughly that any creature with an enhanced sense of smell would instantly know that she was his. Marking her in such a way that it made him dizzy with contentment, the rightness of their combined scents completing him in a way he had not experienced since he became a werewolf.
His wolf also liked it when he leaked precum into her. She liked it too, gasping so sweetly when he rubbed his dick against her sensitive folds, teased her with the head of his cock. His wolf really enjoyed the fact that she liked having risky sex with her professor, that the level-headed Head Girl and heroine enjoyed it with him so much that sometimes they went at it multiple times a day. He frequently thought that she took these risks on purpose.
He knew she liked children, no matter how she tried to hide it. The way she would ask about what werewolf cubs were like, about hypothetically giving birth and raising small Remus Lupins—though she didn’t phrase it like that, of course.
The forced way she would laugh at how ridiculous it was that witches usually had children so soon after school, even though he knew she was the most mothering witch to come out of Gryffindor since Lily Evans. It was adorable how she fussed after first years, now that she had finished raising Ron and Harry and let them out to terrorise the wizarding world.
He was the Head of Gryffindor now that Minerva was Headmistress, and he had seen how much she enjoyed cuddling the younger students, and how much less she cared about her studies this year. Which wasn’t to say that she wasn’t a straight O student across the board (because she was still Hermione Granger, after all, even if she had been frequently getting a different type of O now), but she was a war hero now. She had proven herself, had a place waiting for her at the ministry, had a place for her in the wizarding world, and needed to do nothing in her last year. So she spent all her spare time nurturing the younger students and getting fucked.
It was very sweet, really. The idea of fucking and mating her was quite selfless as well—whole years of new young Gryffindors had imprinted on her, and by making sure that she stayed around he was merely doing his duty as the Head of Gryffindor to make sure his students were looked after.
And the thought of planting himself so deeply in her until her belly was swollen with his child and breasts filled with milk was deeply satisfying on a spiritual level after so many years of hunger, aching loneliness, and endless fighting amongst the wolf packs that he had been sent to win over as a representative of Albus fucking Dumbledore.
Remus grinned ferally at the thought that by achieving what Dumbledore set out for him to do—a suicide mission in retrospect—that in uniting the werewolves and swaying them to the side of the Order, he had gained himself enough immunity to practically get away with murder. What was fucking the of-age, should-have-graduated and very consenting Head Girl in the grand scheme of things, really?
He liked all of the developments in his life in the post-war era. He especially liked it when they fucked while she was fertile, like right now.
“You’re in heat,” he groaned in her ear. She clenched around him like a vise—a heavenly hot and wet vise—in response and let out a moan so loud the Slytherins in the dungeons probably would have heard her if he hadn’t casted Silencing charms on his door.
“Yes—I—please, fuck—in me—” she babbled incoherently, words choked in her throat from the force of his thrusts.
His wolf perked up. They had been fairly reckless, but never had she requested that he come inside her, despite the fact that he was pulling out later and later each time. He had been pushing it. He knew it. She knew it too, yet she said nothing each time except to moan louder and become wetter and clench tighter as if she couldn’t let him go—the same way he felt every morning when she left his bed, as well as the days that she did not stay.
“What do you want, Hermione?” he asked, voice low and steady as he thrummed a finger on her clit. Hermione shuddered and let out a mewl at that, gasping as she tried to form words.
“Please—inside—”
“Say it,” Remus demanded through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to finish right there and then.
“I want—”
“What do you want?”
“I want your cum!” Hermione gasped, becoming more impossibly wet with every word. The noises that their bodies made were obscene.
“Good girl,” Remus purred, slowing down his thrusts to drag things out longer. Hermione whined at his new slower pace, and pushed back against him to go faster. Remus smirked. He was going to come inside her for the first time and he wanted to remember it.
“Where do you want my cum?” he asked, because he was incorrigible and he took deep amusement by making proper little Miss Granger say obscene things.
Hermione let out a small scream as he hit that spot inside her slowly, possibly from pleasure or frustration or both.
“Inside!” she snarled, gripping him tighter in response.
“Inside where?” Remus asked, because he still lived to cause mischief, even if it was of the sexually frustrating variety.
“Inside my fucking womb! I swear to god if you don’t come inside me soon—” Hermione’s face was flushed a brilliant pink, and the blush had spread all the way down to the tops of her mesmerising breasts, which were bouncing delightfully every time he thrust into her.
“Now, now, there’s no need for such language—” he tsked, and then pulled out. Hermione’s face looked livid for a moment before he turned her on her back, and sheathed himself immediately inside her again.
“I want to look at you when I spill inside you,” he whispered, mirth replaced with something more serious.
Hermione’s face was beautifully vulnerable in that moment, as they looked at each other.
“Please,” she said, voice husky from her screams.
Remus kissed her softly instead of making a smart quip about ladies and asking nicely. He lost himself in the sensation of tracing her lips with his tongue while he languidly pushed himself inside her.
An eternity passed as he made love to her in front of the fireplace. Eventually, when he could no longer fight the rising tension in his hard length, he brought his hand down to her clit. Hermione came almost instantly, letting out a soft scream as she did it.
Remus fucked her gently through her orgasm, riding out her shudders until he could no longer hold back and jerked into her three times before he swelled inside her and painted her walls white with so much cum he was slightly worried that she could not hold it all inside.
Suddenly realising that being stuck together on the rug would be extremely uncomfortable, he carefully manoeuvred them onto the sofa on trembling legs, while holding Hermione against him.
Hermione cuddled up against him, while his mind spun with the reality of what they just did. The thought that she could be pregnant after this caused him to release more cum inside her.
How was any of this real? Good things like this didn’t happen to Remus Lupin.
“Of course this is real. You deserve all the good things. …we both do, after all of that,” Hermione said drowsily, sounding dick drunk in the most pleasant of ways. Ah, he had spoken his thoughts out loud.
“I love you,” he said, regretting it the moment he said it as he was still buried balls deep inside her.
Hermione snorted. “I know. I love you too. Stop thinking—you’ve stopped coming and I want more of your cum deep inside me.”
Remus choked slightly, and held onto her tighter. He suddenly realised that until this moment he had felt like their relationship could end at any moment, but now he felt as if all the things he had wanted when he was younger that seemed impossible to reach—a stable career, a home, a mate, and children—were dangerously close to becoming true. He buried his face in Hermione’s hair, taking deep breaths of the scent of vanilla with delicate hints of something floral.
He could feel it in his bones now, that he could have this and more. It was real.