Under My Skin

Chapter Two: Dealing

"You okay, 'Mione?" Ron asked, looking a bit concerned as she plunked down next to he and Harry in the Great Hall.

"Yeah, I just. . .didn't sleep well."

She figured that explanation was safe enough. Anything was better than saying 'No, I spent the entire night having triple X rated dreams about my Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.' She could just imagine the reactions. . .She shook her head violently, startling her friends as she attempted to rid her mind of the image.

"You sure? You don't need to go to the hospital wing?" Harry prompted. She shook her head again, silky brown waves falling in wisps out of the loose ponytail at the base of her neck. "All right. . .If you're sure. . ."

Ron pushed a plate of eggs toward her. Hermione wasn't hungry, but took the plate anyway, deciding it would raise less questions than if she refused. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice and sliced in to an egg, prepared sunny side up, the way she liked it best. Chewing, she exhaled deeply through her nose, accidentally letting her gaze wander toward the teachers' table.

Big mistake.

She almost choked on her egg when she happened to lock gazes with Professor Lupin. She couldn't be sure because she was too far away, but she could have sworn he blushed before quickly averted his gaze. He'd been staring at her.

Surely she couldn't be that obvious?

Hermione suddenly found herself wishing it was any day but Tuesday.

On Tuesdays, Gryffindors had last period with Slytherins. Defense Against the Dark Arts.

***

Remus had spent all day dreading his last class.

How could he look her in the eyes?

It was bad enough he'd been caught staring at the girl during breakfast, but now he had to spend an entire class with her sitting right in front of him, gazing up at him with those beautiful coffee coloured eyes. Crossing her temptingly long, smooth, tanned legs, not realizing that the action allowed her skirt the opportunity to slide further up her thigh.

He groaned and comically dropped his head onto his desk with a resounding thud. Even the pain that shot through his forehead didn't drive away the mouth-watering image.

"Why me?" He hadn't even realized he'd said it out loud until Lavender Brown decided to be helpful.

"Why you what, Professor?" she asked curiously as the class filed into the room behind her.

His thin shoulders heaved with the sigh he breathed as he looked up.

"Nothing, Lavender. Nothing at all." She shrugged and slid into her chair at the appropriate table.

As he'd known they eventually would, Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the room.

Harry and Ron seemed to be cheerfully discussing something carefree. Hermione, however, had her head bowed and seemed to be intently studying the cover of her Defense Against the Dark Arts text. She wasn't even attempting to engage in conversation with her two best friends.

They sat at their regular table, Remus watching as Hermione took the seat closest to the wall. Her brow furrowed and she dragged her lower lip through her teeth. She seemed to be making an effort not to look him in the eye. Or in his general direction.

She couldn't possibly know. . .

Could she?

He stood and moved to the front of the class and began the lesson, paying the majority of his attention to the parts of the class that didn't contain a girl - woman -- that had played a starring role in the previous night's fantasies.

Hermione took a chance and let her gaze flicker to Remus as he walked the class through the correct way to defend oneself from the more ghastly forms of dragon.

She didn't hear so much what he was saying, as the way he said it. His voice. It was low and soft. The kind of voice that made you think that if you didn't listen closely, you might miss something important. And his lips. . . She unconsciously clenched her fingers, crumpling a piece of parchment. His lips were the kind that promised unforgettable kisses. She whimpered softly and Ron jumped in his seat next to her.

"Oi. What's your problem?" Her gaze jerked to him, a blush tainting her cheeks.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I don't have a problem," she insisted. Ron's brow furrowed and he inched away from Hermione, who rolled her eyes.

"And so," Remus was saying, "the most effective way to kill a dragon, should you be unlucky enough to get within range, is to cut off its head. Like so."

He made a ridiculous little motion with his wand, much like a move used in muggle sword fights. Hermione giggled and he unintentionally smirked at his silly demonstration. He then straightened his posture and took an mock expression that vaguely resembled that of Snape.

"Not that I am suggesting that any of you should attempt to cut off a dragon's head. It is very dangerous and potentially fatal." He took a deep breath. "Now, who can tell me what the smallest known breed of dragons is?"

Forgetting her resolve not to draw his attention to her, Hermione raised her hand. Remus had figured this would happen. That's what he got for asking a question. He couldn't very well ignore her for the entire lesson, could he?

"Yes, Herm - er - Miss Granger?"

Formalities distanced you, right?

For a fleeting moment, she looked almost put off by his use of her surname. They'd always been on a first name basis. She quickly recovered, however.

"The Peruvian Vipertooth is the smallest known breed of dragon and also the fastest when in flight. It is only about fifteen feet in length. Its horns are short, but also more venomous than that of the average dragon. The Vipertooth willingly eats goats and cows, but has a particular liking for humans."

Merlin, she was brilliant. He smiled, thinking of more. . .pleasurable ways he's like to congratulate her.

"Very good. Five points to Gryffindor."

She smiled briefly, but then seemed to zone out again. Remus assigned a page in the text for them to read until the end of class and sat down behind his desk. Then he picked up a quill and some ink and picked up a pile third year assignments on hinkypunks, intending to mark them. He didn't get very far, however.

Hermione cleared her throat slightly, causing him to look up at her. He shifted slightly in her seat and gazed down at the textbook on the desk in front of her. His fingers itched to gently push the loose tendrils of hair away from her face and draw her chin up so she could look directly into his green eyes. He longed to push apart her glossy lips and tease her tongue with his until she writhed wantonly in his arms.

The quill snapped in half. He'd been taking out his frustrations on the poor feather, evidently. A few students looked up at the sudden noise and he ignored them, calmly taking up another and bending over the parchments.

What the hell was wrong with him? Student. He needed to remember that teachers and students did not have sweaty passionate sex on the teacher's desk.

When had Hermione become so full figured?

No! Bad! Off topic!

Hermione is not full figured. She's not figured at all. She's a young girl. With dreams of being a ballerina. . .or a princess. . .Not, as much as you'd like it, your sex slave.

Merlin help him, his mouth was watering.

How was he going to make it through the school year?