The Meaning of Restraint

by darsynia

Notes: A futurefic, post-war story written pre-Deathly Hallows, and set a few years after the book 7 time period. Written 5/08/06.

If Ginevra Weasley were taking Witch Weekly's 'Which Quidditch Position Are You In YOUR Relationship?' quiz right now, she knew just what her score would turn out to be: 30% Seeker, 65% Chaser, 5% Beater—and 0% Keeper. The truth of the matter was, she wasn't in a relationship, didn't think she wanted a relationship, and was pretty sure no one wanted to be in a relationship with her. What she did want was to feel something—and not in the committed, romantic way that her brother felt about Hermione.

Which was how she found herself in this Blackpool nightclub, wearing the tight leather pants her brother Bill had bought her (with stern importations not to tell their mother where she'd gotten them from) and a beaded magenta silk top that should have clashed with her hair but didn't. Outside, her bare arms had felt the chilly wind, but inside the atmosphere was warm, sweaty, and provocative—exactly the way she felt right now. She'd been to fancy wizarding nightclubs before, with charmed ceilings, spelled walls, and specialty drinks, but this place had no prevailing theme, other than dark corners and no questions asked.

She surveyed her options in a confident, alluring manner that garnered attention from more than one of the nearby club occupants—male and female. One wizard in particular caught her eye, a tall, sandy-haired man clad in loose muggle jeans and a tight-fitting shirt that left none of his muscles to the imagination. He raised a speculative eyebrow at her, and she was glad that she'd chosen to put her hair up; she knew her neck was one of her more attractive features. Ginny raised a delicate hand to brush a stray lock of red hair from her nape, and the handsome man she'd been admiring started across the room toward her. She turned to set her drink down, wanting to have both hands free for when he reached her, but she'd only begun to place the long-stemmed glass on the bar when she felt rough hands on her shoulders, spinning her around.

The martini spilled a little on her hand, and the quickness of the man's movement had her a little dizzy, as she'd already been slightly tipsy before making eye contact with him.

"Well," Ginny said in what she hoped was a sultry voice, "this is starting out well—I like a man who takes charge." As soon as she spoke, however, Ginny started to notice that there was something very wrong about the situation. The man whose hands were still tightly gripping her upper arms was definitely taller than when she'd seen him across the room—and he was wearing robes…

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Ginevra?!" She recognized the voice, and hearing her given name sobered her enough to be able to tip her head back and look at the face that belonged to the angry man in front of her. It was Remus Lupin—a nearly furious Remus Lupin.

His fury, her disappointment, and the pain she felt from his crushing grip on her arms sent Ginny straight past incredulity into an answering rage. She stared up at him, pouring her wrath into the expression on her face, expecting him to release her and back away, as any of her brothers would have. He did not.

"Come along, we're leaving." Lupin stated this as though she were merely a wayward child, instead of a grown woman who made her own decisions. Ginny was so angry that she could feel the heat of her ire rising from her skin, so similar to the heat she'd intended on creating tonight, and yet so different. The only cool part of her entire body was her left hand, where her drink had spilled onto it from Lupin's unexpected reaction to finding her here.

"You have no right to tell me what to do!" Ginny protested, refusing to struggle with him and let him see how much she resented his hold on her.

"You don't know what you're doing," Remus said in a barely-controlled voice, looking around the room at the people grinding on the dance floor and the barely-lit walls surrounding it, where more than a few couples were writhing against each other slowly. He shook his head decisively. "You don't belong in a place like this."

"I'm 21 years old, I belong wherever I bloody well choose!" she fairly shouted at him, finally twisting her body to free herself of his oppressive grip and disapproving glare. Ginny managed to release herself, her upper arms glowing red from the abrasion.

One of her thin shirt straps had slipped down her shoulder during the struggle, the darker red contrasting in a strangely attractive way to the tan of her skin and the redness borne of his rough contact. Remus stared at it for a long, tense moment, seeming to process her words and the literal physical evidence of them at the same time.

The atmosphere between them immediately changed, becoming charged with a dangerous sort of awareness. Ginny allowed him to pull her through the crowd and out into the night, her mind fixating on the look on his face as he'd stared at her bare shoulder, fascinated by her body's unexpected reaction to his masculinity. She noticed for the first time that he held himself with lithe strength and a confidence that she couldn't help but feel attracted to. Ginny had always found assertive men sexy, but she'd never have listed her former professor among them.

Ginny tried to shake them off; these new feelings were nothing but anger and alcohol talking, both of which would wear off—one sooner than the other. It occurred to her that entering a nightclub like the one they'd just left was as out of character for him as it was for her—but Ginny was too frustrated and upset to give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared what he did with his time.

She also had no intention of letting him ruin her evening.

"Tell me what you want, so I can go back to what I was doing," she said in a hard voice, knowing it would goad him, and not giving a damn.

"I want you sa—" he broke off, and Ginny was sure he had meant to say the word 'safe.' "I want you to go home, Miss Weasley."

"I hope you're used to disappointment," she said cruelly, wanting to hurt him as he'd hurt her. She felt a sharp pang of disgust in herself for taking such a cheap shot at a man who had nothing but her best interests at heart—but Ginny was sick and tired of being taken care of. She wanted a different kind of domination—had been on the verge of perhaps finding it when Lupin had thrust himself on her as though he were some sort of guardian angel. Ten years too late, Professor, she thought, bitterly.

He'd dragged her to a small alcove in the stone façade of a building that had to have been hundreds of years old. The street noise and any other distractions were blocked by another nearby building, and the configuration of the architecture left her in shadow, while illuminating her oppressor quite ironically in soft moonlight. The rays played across his face, leeching out the shadows from his scars and casting his shadow against the wall to her left. Ginny saw to her surprise that she found him quite handsome, standing there with the fire of fury and a little something more in his eyes, his anger keeping her at bay.

"Why are you here?" she asked him, forgetting to inject enough of her vexation into the question for it to come out less as curiosity and more of a demand. The cool wind against her hand reminded her of the bitter alcohol spilled on it, and she lifted it to her mouth to lick away all traces of the potent liquid, waiting for his response. Remus seemed transfixed by her action, his shoulders moving with the strength of the deep breaths he was taking. She took a step forward, pausing her meticulous hand-cleansing on the tip of a finger, drawing it out slowly as she spoke again.

"You're not my father, you're not one of my brothers, you're not my boss, you're no longer my teacher, and you're not my lover," Ginny said, resuming the work of her tongue after the last word even as her heart raced with the excitement of speaking like that to someone she knew, and not a random stranger.

"That makes me your friend, Ginny," Lupin said, his voice sounding raspy, as though he hadn't expected to have to use it again so soon. The rumbling timbre he used while speaking her name had an almost narcotic effect on her. She felt drawn to him, and wasn't sure whether to fight the sensations or not. On one hand, he'd shown her the exact sort of commanding presence, the very domination she had set out looking for that evening—on the other hand, he was a former professor, a colleague of her parents, a member of the Order. Then again, the very nature of his relationship to her made the thoughts she'd begun to have about him all the more secretly thrilling.

"I wasn't in there looking for friends, Professor," she pointed out, deliberately using his old title to remind him of how she should view him. The dichotomy of his using her first name and her addressing him so formally brought to mind all of the things she found so stimulating about authority. She could see that she'd disturbed him; he looked more uncertain now, and Ginny found that she actually missed his anger. Just thinking about the way he'd looked at her while furious was sending tingling waves of awareness through her… Ginny decided to take decisive action.

"This is ridiculous," she said firmly, moving across the bands of moonlight, intending to force herself past him and back to the dark nightclub where things made sense, and actions had no consequences.

As she'd secretly hoped, however, Remus Lupin's hand shot out to grasp her again on the arm, preventing her from taking another step. As luck would have it, he'd caught her by her right arm, the one with the fallen shirt strap. His fingers brushed against it, and the contrast of the warm silk, his calloused thumb, and the cold air coming from the water pulled a low moan from her throat. She felt him tense, could feel his hot gaze on her face, but her mind was still warring with her desires, and she couldn't look up at him. Instead, she spoke in a low tone that trembled slightly when his thumb rubbed ever so gently along the magenta silk against her arm.

"You don't have any right to stop me." Ginny stopped herself at the last moment from speaking his first name, deciding with a hot rush of desire that if he took what she was trying so desperately not to offer, she would only say his name if he tore it from her throat in pleasure.

"Do you define yourself by the people who have authority over you?" Remus asked, astutely. She shook her head, turning his question onto himself.

"Who has authority over you, Professor?" Ginny asked, loving how his hand tightened against her arm at her repeated use of his title, the roughness of his fingers sending liquid trails of desire flowing across her tanned skin.

"I do." He said it tightly, and she knew he wanted to demand that she not call him Professor, not remind him that he once had been an authority over her. "Who has authority over you, Ginevra?"

She felt her victory in his use of her adult name; in the tone of his voice—ragged; in the way he stepped forward as though to tell her, unconsciously, that she was affecting his body the same way he was affecting hers. His robes brushed against the thin silk of her shirt, causing her breasts to feel tight and heavy. Her pants felt suddenly two sizes too small, but in an enticing way that put pressure in places that sorely needed it.

His thumb was rubbing a slow circle on her arm, raising ever so slightly with each revolution as the two of them stood transfixed, their breaths coming faster with each moment of silence that passed between them. When he reached her bare shoulder, she finally spoke.

"You could, if you wanted…"

It was apparently all he'd needed to hear. Remus growled, so softly it was almost a moan, and he dipped his head to press a hot kiss on her exposed shoulder. She felt a rush of movement and then cool stone at her back as he pressed her against the wall of the alcove, trailing wet kisses along her neck and into her hairline. She reached up, meaning to capture his head and bring it to her, but he grasped both of her hands in a swift movement and placed them over her head, trapping them there.

With his remaining hand, Lupin lifted her head, forcing her to look him in the eyes. What she saw there made her body flush from where his hands touched her all the way to the pit of her stomach, and beyond. The desire she recognized in his hazel eyes more than matched her own, inflamed her own, made her wish she could fulfill every dark imagining that he had.

"Walk away, Ginevra," he said, his voice husky and low in a way that had her pressing her lower body suggestively against his, despite his words. "You're right—I have no authority over you."

"Take authority, then," she whispered in a rich tone that thrummed with desire, still denying him his name.

Remus released her chin and took her left hand from its position above her head, slowly beginning to lick the faint traces of alcohol from them, merging his saliva with hers even as he pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel just how aroused he was. Never dropping his eyes from hers, he finished laving her hand with his tongue and brought it deliberately between them, pressing it against the thick bulge in his trousers.

Ginny bravely maintained the eye contact, reveling in the various tactile sensations—his rough hand holding hers against the cold stone, her soft silk shirt creating friction against her nipples, the scratchy wool brushing against the hand still wet from Remus' mouth, the hard proof of his desire underneath her palm.

She allowed him to press her hand against him for a long moment, regarding him steadily with her deep brown eyes before deliberately and slowly stroking down with her hand, at the same time arching her back. Remus' eyes fluttered shut for a quick moment, a low groan escaping through his throat. The challenge had been set, and Ginny rubbed upward sensually before grasping his hand and placing it at the fastening of her pants.

Remus watched her, his eyes displaying the same intense steadiness with which she regarded him as he drew her zipper down, slowly. Ginny broke the gaze intentionally, dropping her head back against the granite wall as she lifted her hips for him to remove her pants. There was a momentary coolness as the night air eddied around her bare legs, but soon his body was covering hers again, the voluminous robes blocking every sense but him.

When she managed to look at him again, she saw that he seemed completely mesmerized by the pulse at her throat, but when she raised her left hand to caress his chest, he grasped it firmly and brought it back up to its twin, encircling both with a gentle but insistent hand. She felt wanton, shameless, but she loved it. Remus bent his head and kissed the hollow of her throat at the same time that his free hand trailed across the lace of her panties. Ginny shuddered with the force of passion that simple touch had engendered, and Remus tasted her moan from the outside of her throat.

She wanted to kiss him, to feel his hot tongue mate with hers, but the words were stolen from her with the next swipe of his fingers at the juncture of her thighs. He coordinated the light feathery touches between her legs with gentle sucking kisses along her shoulder and neck until she was panting and moaning incoherently. Suddenly, she felt his teeth on her earlobe and heard a ripping sound as her knickers were torn from her body with one rapid movement.

This time it was Ginny who growled, unable to touch him or undress him due to his restraint of her, but at the same time adoring his methodical seduction of her body's responses.

He hadn't spoken a word since her blatant offering of herself to him, and she would be damned if she was going to be the first to break in their little battle of wills. She suspected that he was denying her kisses just as she denied him the sound of his name from her lips, and wondered if he needed to hear it as much as she needed to taste him. Ginny threw her head back again, nipping at the flesh of his arm that held hers hostage, and he chuckled low against her ear, the resonance of it seeming to her the very essence of desire.

She licked at him again, and he rewarded her by plunging two fingers into her heat, the slick warmth coating them immediately. Ginny bucked against his hand, and Remus stilled her not with words or his hands, but by kissing his way across her chin toward her lips. She held herself completely tense, feeling the first waves of pleasure begin to wash over her as Remus' fingers thrust into her rhythmically with one hand, and gently caressed her wrist with the other—all the while approaching her lips with his.

A flick of his thumb against her desperate bundle of nerves, a puff of his hot breath against her mouth, and she was coming for him, her body shaking with the force of ecstasy—and still he had not kissed her.

Ginny forgot that they were, ostensibly, about to make love in the middle of a busy tourist district. She forgot that she had merely intended to find a handsome, nameless wizard to shag, to be forgotten in the morning. She forgot everything but the desperate desire to feel Remus inside her, to touch his face and hair, to worship his lips with her mouth and tongue.

He let her down from her plateau slowly, still gently rubbing her wrists with his upper hand as though reminding her that he meant her no harm by their imprisonment. When Ginny could finally open her eyes again, she saw that he'd divested himself of the clothes beneath his robes, and was watching her with lust-filled eyes.

It was no longer a battle, she decided, as his expert touch brought her nearer and nearer to the brink of another orgasm. Her hands were restrained, her legs were jelly—Ginny reached out to him in the only way she had left.

"Remus," she moaned, fulfilling her promise to only cry out his name in the throes of great pleasure. Instantly her hands were released, in just enough time to brace them on his shoulders as he thrust into her with a deep, desperate groan of delight. She wrapped her legs around him and buried her hands in his hair, covering his face with kisses before he growled her name in a low, guttural tone that almost drove her over the edge.

Her inability to touch him before made every previously forbidden contact between them intensely erotic, all the more so because of the slow, liquid thrusts of his hips. Remus seemed to be able to keep them both on the very knife-edge of release, savoring every inch of her body that he could reach with his hands and lips, she doing the same to him.

But he still hasn't kissed me!—Yet, even as she thought the words, Ginny began to feel the hot waves of her orgasm at the same time that she could feel Remus' body tensing with the strength of his own. All gentleness gone, he gripped her tightly and began to drive into her with a wild desperation. His hand flew to the back of her head, cupping it with a tenderness that took her breath away.

Remus kissed her with intense ferocity, just as the two of them exploded into intense rapture. She felt as though he'd stolen her very soul, and at that moment she was completely willing to entrust it to his care. Their tongues caressed in a way their hands could not, so overcome with the physical bliss that the only place they truly existed was the joining of their mouths and hips. The powerful waves of pleasure started to slow, and Ginny realized with wonder that it had been their first kiss.

When he finally released her to her own unsteady feet, Ginny looked up at Remus and lifted her hand to caress his face, as she'd wanted to do for most of their lovemaking.

"Remus," she said, smiling as he dipped his head to hers in a gentle kiss. As their lips met, Ginny thought to herself that she'd just embarked on the only adventure she'd ever willingly participated in where she knew she wouldn't regret the outcome in the morning.