• 1-Savage Heat

(The authour would like to state that she happens to like
the owner of said cold, snaky little hands very much, thanks)
Even now he was smirking at her from across the Hall and
whispering to his ever-present little cohorts, Crabbe and
Goyle. Hermione turned around sharply and snatched her glass
of punch off of the table, taking a shaky sip. Malfoy was
planning something tonight, of that she had no doubt.
She spotted Harry and Ron sitting alone in a corner. They
were being sulky because their dates had left them. Again. It
had happened the last time Hogwarts hosted a ball over three
years before and the two boys still hadn’t changed much.
If it weren’t for the fact that they had snubbed her
efforts to dance with them, she would go over and cheer them
up. But they deserved to be miserable if they were going to
be such immaturttlettle twits.

Here see set her cup of punch down carefully when she saw
two fifth years getting a little too intimate on the dance
floor. A sharp word and an equally sharp poke separated the
two and Hermione found herself wandering around the Hall. She
kept an eagle eye out for rule breaking, but she didn’t
notice any misbehaviour.

She did notice several pairs of eyes riveted to her bosom,
though.

Pursing her lips, Hermione attempted to inconspicuously
tug the red satin bodice up a little higher over her
cleavage, but failed. People were staring. She was going to
kill Ginny for talking her into wearing such a low-cut robe.
After murmuring to Professor McGonagall that she was going
to the ladies’, Hermione walked out of the Hall and
meandered down a deserted corridor. It was oddly dark and
Hermione had the strange feeling that the castle had changed
itself on her again. She only prayed that she wasn’t
lost. The girls’ loo wasn’t too far away from where
she was actually, but Hermione never made it there because
someone chose that moment to trip on their cloak and fall on
her in the darkness. Well, they almost fell on her. The
person, whomever it was, happened to grab the front of her
robes as they went down and—

“Oh my, I’m terribly sorry,” a voice
mumbled from the floor.

Hermione hadn’t noticed the state of her robes yet;
so she lit her wand and reached down to help the stranger up.
(The authour wonders why her wand wasn’t lit before,
since it was so dark) He stood and brushed the front of his
robes a bit shakily before looking up.

“Thank you so much, Hermione. I’m ever
so—” The man stopped and gulped audibly when he
noticed that her bodice was ripped completely open and her
breasts were barely covered. “Sorry,” he breathed.
“Oh, so very sorry, um, Hermione.”

His staring brought her to herself again and Hermione
looked down at her robes. She shrieked and attempted to pull
the shreds together again. “Oh no, Professor Lupin,
it’s I who should apologise. I’m—oh dear,
I’m so embarrassed!”

Lupin averted his eyes with a shy smile and picked his
wand up from the floor. He seemed to have recovered his
composure a bit, and there was a twinkle in his eye when he
glanced at her again. “If you’ll allow me, Miss
Granger, I believe I can fix that for you so you can be on
your way.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “N-no, Sir. I’ll
be all right in a tick. I can repair it as soon as I get to
the ladies’.”

Professor Lupin raised a hand to silence her.
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do considering
it’s my fault that your bodice is—er, ripped in the
first place.”

“Well, I’m sure—” Hermione took a deep
breath and shrugged, her fingers still clutching at the backs
of her arms. “I suppose that it would be all
right.”

“Right,” he said with a grin tugging his lips.
“You’ll be all fixed in a moment. But first, you
need to put your arms down. I can’t see what I’m
doing and I may sew your hands together if I tried.”

“Of course,” Hermione replied as she hesitantly
dropped her arms. She noticed the way he was trying not to
stare as he fiddled with his wand. Hermione almost smirked,
but stopped herself. But she did decide to take a very deep
breath as his wand touched her bodice.
That had an effect.

She watched Lupin’s eyes as his wand lightly zipped
back and forth over the fabric, sewing it back together.
Hermione drew another dramatic breath and he fumbled for a
moment before beetling his brows in concentration and
starting again.

“Er, Hermione, would you mind holding still
terribly?” Lupin asked after a moment, getting quite
frustrated.

“I’m only breathing, Professor.” She made
sure that her eyes were quite round as she said this. Perhaps
the innocent act was too obvious. Then again, it was awfully
dark where they were.

Hermione gasped as his wand travelled over her nipple.
Lupin mumbled an apology to her and he continued to repair
her bodice.

“Professor, I—”

Lupin cut her off with a feral growl and Hermione jumped
despite herself. “I’m not your professor
anymore!” He frowned apologetically. “I’m
sorry,” he started in a more civilised tone.
“It’s getting close to the full moon and I’m
not myself this evening.”

“I-it’s all right, Pro—er, Lupin?”

“Remus,” he grunted before tapping her chest
with his wand again. Hermione was silent for a moment until
she realised that the steady zipping motions of his wand had
turned into something more like a very slow caress. It seemed
that he certainly wasn’t himself this evening.

Brilliant.

“Professor Lupin, I’m quite certain that my robe
is fixed now.”

He dropped his wand and started mumbling apologies as he
bent down to retrieve it. Hermione lifted the skirt of her
robe up so that her foot was free and she could step on his
hand. Perhaps she lifted it a little more than needed, or
perhaps it was at exactly the right height. (The authour
would like to note that she raised her robes up far past her
thigh and threatened to show her knickers) But it had the
desired effect.

“H-hermione, what on earth are you about?” The
poor man stuttered. She wasn’t hurting him or anything,
and the pressure from her foot was very light really. Lupin
was stuck more from shock than by any other force.
Hermione felt a smirk tugging her lips and she raised one
eyebrow. (The authour would like to note that she achieved
this feat by practicing daily in a mirror for a week, often
using her fingers to help the musculature along) “Oh my,
Professor. You seem to have dropped your wand.”

“Er,” he said elegantly. “Hermione,”
Remus tried again. “This isn’t exactly proper, and
you are probably breaking at least five rules at the
moment.”

Hermione waggled a finger at him. “Not tonight. You
see, Professor Lupin, you resigned your position just this
morning; so you are not officially employed at Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Furthermore, I’m
seventeen as of last September and according to British law,
I am past the age of legal consent for any activities which
may occur after this point.”

Remus gawped at her. (The authour would like to note that
he looked remarkably like a yawning trout)
“Activities?” he whispered.

“Of course. I’m officially on break from my
duties this evening, and I’m quite determined not to go
back into the Great Hall without taking full advantage of the
chance to relax before I have to deal with the Ferret.”
Hermione lifted one eyebrow again and smiled in invitation.

“Right,” Remus nodded. It appeared that he
thought Hermione to be suffering from Tourette’s
syndrome, a dreadful Muggle illness he’d once read
about. “Um, why are you still calling me Professor
Lupin? It seems to be a bit moot now, doesn’t it?”

Hermione shook her head and took her foot off of
Remus’ hand, but he still stayed in place. She was
pleased. “Not so. You see, Professor Lupin, you were
once my teacher. I feel it improper to go from that to such a
casual mode of address.”

“Highly improper,” Remus agreed wryly, rubbing
his hand a bit. “So now that you have me, what are you
going to do with me?” (The authour would like to note
that he didn’t seem to be trying very hard to resist,
but then again, this sort of thing fuels most men’s
nocturnal fantasies)

Hermione helped him to his feet and proceeded to snog him
senseless. Remus broke away after a moment and asked her
breathlessly: “Isn’t there a rule against this sort
of thing?”

She smiled and traced her lips over his ear. “No. You
see, there are very specific rules about public displays of
affection, but if you hadn’t noticed, we’re not in
public.”

“I had noticed that actually,” Remus remarked
dryly. “So what do we do next?”

Hermione considered this for a moment. “Perhaps you
should rip my bodice open again. You know, just to start
things off.”

“Ah.” Remus agreed and used his superior
werewolf strength to tear the front of her robes off neatly.
She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. But it was a
strapless after all. Considering its current state,
‘was’ seems the word to describe it.

Remus scratched his head. “What now?”

Hermione started. “You mean you don’t
know?”

He shrugged. “I thought you knew.”

“Buggery,” Hermione swore as she frowned in
consternation.

“I don’t know that one, either,” Remus
informed her.

“Oh do shut up, Professor Lupin. I’m trying to
think.”

“Yes, Miss Granger.” Remus snapped his mouth
closed quickly after that.

Hermione tapped her chin with an absent finger as she
paced back and forth. “Do you mean to say that
you’ve never been with a woman, Professor Lupin?”

He nodded.

“How about a man, then?” she asked.

Remus shook his head vehemently whilst Hermione fumed.

“Oh that’s bloody brilliant; a thirty-five year-old
virgin.” She whirled around to face him again. “I
don’t suppose you’ve done it with a wolf?”

He shook his head again, but he seemed more hesitant this
time. Hermione narrowed her eyes and smirked. “Oooh you
have, haven’t you, you bad boy!”

The former Professor covered his face with his hands and
blushed as Hermione continued to drill him. “Is it much
different than a human?”

Remus lifted his hands, palms up, and hunched down into
his shoulders. “Right, woulwouldn’t know, would
you? Hmmn.” Hermione tapped her chin again in thought.
“I’ll have to remedy that, I suppose. Take off your
trousers, Professor.”

“My trousers?”

“Your trousers,” Hermione affirmed.

“This is a bit inappropriate, don’t you
think?”

Hermione lifted a brow and he gulped. His trousers dropped
to the ground quickly, along with his pants. (The authour
ld lld like to note that the Professor is remarkably well
endowed and if he isn’t sure what to do, she is more
than willing to show him.)

Without taking her eyes from Remus, Hermione casually
aimed a hex at the authour, incapacitating her.

“That’s better,” she sighed. “Where were
we? Oh yes, I remember.”

Hermione ran her hand over his hardening member (From the
floor and across the room, the authour would like to
carefully note that his penis does not belong to a group or a
civic association, therefore, it is not a member.) and
watched happily as it stood to attention.

“Well that’s that,” she said. “Hmmn, I
suppose that you should tell me how wolves do it.”
p>&#p>“Um,” Remus blushed. “Frombehind,” he
said quickly.

Hermione raised a brow. “Really? Well that’s
interesting. Should I get on my hands and knees or do you
want me to lean against the wall?”

&#Uh .Uh . . . on your knees, I suppose,” Remus said
after a moment. (The authour would like to note that he seems
unusually inarticulate this evening.)

She nodded and gracefully dropped to the floor. “Like
this?” Hermione asked over her shoulder.

“Mmmn,” the eloquent Remus replied. He knelt
behind her and stared at her red satin covered rump for a
moment before heaving his shoulders in a shrug and flipping
her skirt over her arse. He didn’t seem surprised that
she was wearing no knickers. (The authour would like to note
that she was wrong when she said that Hermione almost showed
her knickers earlier. Apparently there was no danger of this
so she offers her sincere apologies.)

“Could you put your hands on my breasts,
Professor?” Hermione asked, wiggling her backside into
his growing erection.

“Er, certainly.” And Remus did as requested,
even kneading them a bit and eliciting moans from the female
beneath him. (The authour would like to note that their
current position looks a bit uncomfortable for Hermione, what
with him covering her body and all. The authour wonders
whether Hermione is strong enough to support his weight.)
“I don’t remember having to do this to the
wolf,” Remus said as he absently sucked the back of
mionmione’s neck.

“Oh,” she breathed, wiggling a bit more and
rubbing herself against his pelvis. “Humans have certain
needs, you know.”

“Ah,” was all he said, and he continued to get
pleasure from her body but wasn’t actually doing
much. Hermione seemed to enjoy it anyway.

“So is this all that wolves do?” she asked after
a moment. “They lie on top of one another?”

“Oh, um, no, I suppose not.”

“Well get going then,” she snapped. “I need
to be back in the Hall before too long. I have to lead the
final dance of the evening with the chutney ferret.”

“Right,” Remus said. He then pulled back from
her a little and slid his shaft into her deep, warm sex. (The
authour would like to note that sex is not an anatomical
part. In no anatomy book does it say ‘this is a mammary
gland, this is a pubis, and this is a sex.’)

Remus pumped her body with his for a moment before
something seemed to occur to him. “Um, Hermione. Have
you done this before?”

“Of course. I would have bled otherwise,
wouldn’t I have?” she moaned as she ground her
bottom further into his pelvis.

“Well yes, of course. Who, uh, breeched your
hymen?” Remus asked, his arms shaking a little from
supporting the weight of both his body and an impending
orgasm.

“Oh, I think that it was Ron. It may have been Harry
though. I was a bit confused that night and not quite sure
just whose bed I was climbing into.” Hermione arched her
back and leaned her head closer to the ground, where it hit
the stones each time Remus slammed into her from behind. (The
authour suspects that she will have a headache in the
morning)

“So you’re saying that it could have been
Neville, Dean, or Seamus, too?” he asked gruffly into
her ear. Remus seemed to have more difficulty speaking now
than he had previously.

“Well,” Hermione mused as her forehead bumped
the stone floor again painfully. “It wasn’t Neville
because they were quite thin. I don’t think it was Dean
because their hair was a bit longer.” She groaned and
started breathing more erratically here. “And I heard
somewhere that Seamus shaves his legs, so it wasn’t
him.”

“Didn’t you hear their voice?” Remus
questioned as he slid into her body a few more times.

“No, I put a silence spell over the bed first so they
weren’t able to say anything, really.” Hermione
started to shudder uncontrollably and threw her head back so
hard that she hit Remus in the face. “I’ve been
getting odd looks from the twins since it happened, though,
so I suppose it must have been Ron.”

(The authour would like to note that it was neither Harry
or Ron, but Fred Weasley. Hermione slipped into the wrong
dormitory during her fifth year.)

Remus rubbed his nose and growled before crashing his
pelvis against hers a bit more aggressively than before.
Hermione seemed to like this very much, except that meant
that her face was slowly being pounded to bits.

Hermione had an orgasm, followed by Remus, and then they
both rested for a while but neither remembered to do a
contraception charm or drink any sort of potion. (The authour
snickers at their foolishness, but quietly so as not to be
hexed again) After a few moments, Hermione stood up and
transfigured her robes into something more sensible and
wrinkled her nose in disgust as something trickled down her
leg.

“Oh, I forgot about that part. It’s quite
disgusting.” Hermione wiggled her leg a bit but it still
kept dripping.

“What did you forget?” he asked her, puzzled.
(The authour is sniggering here as it’s obvious that
Hermione forgot quite a bit)

“Nothing,” Hermione waved him off, a bit
embarrassed. (Finally! The authour almost shouts) “My,
look at the time.” She glanced pointedly at her watch
then and patted Remus on the head. “That was love

dear. You did a very good job.” She pinched his cheek
affectionately before taking off down the corridor.

(The authour would like to note that Remus looked very
forlorn sitting there by himself with his trousers around his
ankles in the middle of a dark corridor and plans to come
back and— er, make him feel better as soon as she sees
Hermione safely to the Great Hall.)

Hermione raced through the halls, only walking but very
quickly, back to the Ball. When she finally reached the
doors, she opened them in time to hear the first sns ons of
music sounding the last dance of the evening. She hurried
over to Draco Malfoy and pulled him onto the floor.
He raised an eyebrow at her (The authour would like to
note that he did not have to practice since it was a
talent he was born with) and glanced down at her forehead as
he held her hands gingerly. “Did you know that bruises
do nothing for your already shoddy looks, Granger?”

“Bruises?” Hermione wrinkled her nose at him in
both confusion and disgust. She could still feel trickles
down her leg.

“Yes,” Draco continued, steering her around the
floor. “You’ve an enormous bruise on your forehead,
or didn’t you know?” He smirked rather fondly at
her as they waltzed.

“No, I didn’t know, thank you very
much!” she snapped, quite rudely, and clapped a hand
over her forehead as she continued to dance with only one
arm. They were silent for a few moments more until Draco
noticed something else.

“Ugh, what is that dripping down your leg,
Granger?”

Hermione flinched and hazarded a glance down.
“Shite,” she swore agitatedly.

“Er, that’s brown. This looks more like
sem—”

She clapped a hand over his mouth and hissed:

“It’s none of your bloody business what it is, you
oaf. Just keep dancing and we’ll both be out of this
soon.”

Draco’s nose twitched. “So I suppose you
weren’t really in the loo, were you? Make another
conquest?”
p>Hep>Hermione tossed her head and allowed a small smile to
creep over her face. “Yes, I did.”

“Ah,” he said. “Another tally for you then.
I’m still beating you by two, tho” he bragged,
swirling her around the room a little too actively.

“I thought that professors counted as two?”

Draco lifted his eyebrow. “Really? Who was it?”

“Lupin.”

“Ah, well he’s not a professor anymore as of
today so that doesn’t count. But I suppose that since
he’s a werewolf he counts in the
‘inter-species’ ruling we made,” Draco
conceded. The song was half-way over by this point. “So
how was he?” he asked after another moment.

Hermione shrugged. “It could have been better. I had
to play the innocent card first, then the ‘mistress of
the dungeon’ card before he relented. Did you know that
he’d never been with a human before?”

Draco shook his head and smirked. “Wolves then?”

She nodded. “Yes, wolves. It was interesting though,
and I had fun so it wasn’t all bad.” Hermione
laughed suddenly. “So who’s your victim of the
evening?”

Draco glanced around the room. “I’m not quite
sure yet. I suppose that I could go for the
‘inter-species’ bit myself and sleep with you
tonight.”

“Stupid Ferret,” she growled.

“Bushy-haired Mudblood,” he returned.

“You’re losing your touch.”

Draco shrugged. “Heart isn’t in it
anymore.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re starting to
fancy me, Malfoy,” Hermione scoffed and shook her head.

“Ah, what can I say? I seem to have a thing for
impossible goals.”

Hermione bit her lips to hold back a giggle.
“Honestly, Malfoy, you’re such a bloody
tease.”

Draco smirked. “I know. So what time tonight, dearest?”

Hermione shrugged. “Same as usual, I suppose.
It’ll give you plenty of time to roger Professor Sprout
and even the score.”

“So considerate of you,”
he drawled sarcastically. “I actually had my eye set on
McGonagall tonight.”

Hermione laughed. “She’s not much fun, really. I
mean, you would think that the animagius thing would be a
turn-on but it isn’t. We had more fun with Ginny and she
didn&;t e;t even know what went where.”

“Hmmn,” he mused. “Snape?”

“No, he’s a bit greasy and I think I caught a
rash from him last year.” Hermione shivered
dramatically. Then she seemed to get an idea. “How about
Dumbledore?”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, I think I’d
rather do the squid in the lake again.”

Hermione laughed. “He’s actually not that bad. I
mean, he’s really