This is my submission to the Twin Exchange's Valentine's Day Challenge.

Special thanks to remuslives for the SCANDALOUS suggestion of 'Headmaster's Office'.

Voting begins February 21st, 2011, so take a look at all the awesome entries! And vote for mine, LOL!

ALSO - I would be remiss if I didn't thank the dear Telemnar-xo for beta'ing this for me. Thanks, dearest!

ALSO ALSO - Realized I had submitted this without the edits because I had used the wrong file! Oops! All taken care of now. THANKS AGAIN, Telemnar-xo!

How Very Scandalous!

"One two-three…one two-three…really, Harry, you truly are quite useless at this," Hermione scolded good-naturedly as she silenced the gramophone once more and turned to her best friend, a mildly-frustrated look on her face as she settled a hand on her hip.

With a low growl, Harry turned to her, his own frustration etched with less restraint upon his face as he ran his hand through his untidy hair.

"Honestly, Hermione, I'd rather face a dozen angry dragons than have to learn to waltz," he responded sullenly, dropping into one of the sturdy wooden chairs that sat in front of a large, authoritative desk.

"Well, if you show up at your wedding unprepared to dance, I guarantee your bride-to-be will unleash a fury that will rival a dozen angry dragons, so get up and let's try this again."

Heaving a heavy sigh, the Boy-Who-Lived-But-Couldn't-Dance-For-Shit rose from the chair, lumbering over the cool stone floor to once more practice the steps that Hermione had been diligently drilling into him for the better part of three hours. Turning back to the gramophone to cue the music, Hermione couldn't help but allow the niggling thought that, like Runes, Divination, and Occlumency, ballroom dancing may have been one of those things the great Harry Potter was destined to be absolute pants at.

Teaching her reluctant best friend the art of dance in the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts had not been high on Hermione Granger's list of things to do on a Valentine's Day afternoon. In fact, she had planned the perfect evening for any single twenty-something who found herself alone on the infuriating lovers' day: a hot bath, a good bottle of wine, Honeyduke's best dark chocolate, and a good, trashy romance novel.

What she had received instead, however, was a three-hour headache with a whinging best friend whose absolute ineptitude at finding his own natural rhythm was causing her to seriously consider risking the wrath of the wizarding world by punting the occasionally-insufferable man out of the tower office window.

"C'mon, 'Mione. Some of us have plans for tonight, and Remus will be back soon and will want his privacy," Harry said impatiently, an air of authority in his voice that was respected in the Auror Department where he worked, but grated on the bushy-haired brunette's very last nerve.

"Harry," Hermione said, mustering what was left of her deeply-frayed patience as she looked at him square in the eye. "You interrupted my afternoon, inconvenienced Remus for the use of his office and his gramophone, and have complained every step of the way. Explain to me why I shouldn't just beat you over the head with one of your dancing shoes?"

She arched an eyebrow for effect, crossing her arms to solidify, if there was any doubt, her displeasure. After a long moment, Harry cracked a slight smile, shaking his head.

"You're right, as usual. And I'm sorry. Why don't we work on this some other time? There may not be a wedding if I'm late for dinner, and you should go back to…to…well…to whatever it was I interrupted," he said, having the good grace to look shame-faced as he stuttered over her obvious lack of plans for the evening.

Though ruffled by the fact that there was a slight look of pity in his green eyes, Hermione chose to go the high road, ignoring his blunder and simply nodding.

"Right. Now, let's put this mess back in order before Remus…"

As she spoke, however, brilliant emerald flames erupted in the fireplace and the man in question – and recently-appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry – stepped onto the threadbare hearth rug, brushing ash off his travelling robes.

"Good evening, Professor Lupin," Harry joked, and Remus, slightly startled, looked up with a jerk, momentary panic crossing his handsomely-scarred face. Taking in Harry's friendly, if a bit sheepish, face and Hermione's quietly defiant stance, he gave a boyish grin that the young witch secretly thought of as sexy on wheels and chuckled lightly.

"You said you'd be starting at three. It's now almost half-six. If it hasn't sunk in after three and a half hours, Harry, I'm afraid you may have gained your father's abysmal dancing skills."

Harry visibly relaxed.

"Dad was a bad dancer too?"

Remus chuckled.

"Calling him a bad dancer would be kind. Let's just say that after awhile, your mother took to wearing sturdier shoes in order to avoid the abuse James unwittingly put her poor feet through." He smiled kindly before looking at his watch. "And speaking of abuse, I suggest you avoid getting an earful of it from your fiery fiancée. I have it on good authority that she's quite excited about your evening."

Harry jumped.

"Right! She's been dying to go to this restaurant and if I don't get her there on time…" He trailed off and shuddered visibly. "Well…good night!"

Hermione had barely uttered her response when the flames of the open floo engulfed him and he disappeared in a whirl of green fire.

She smiled.

"I do hope Ginny appreciates how devoted he is to her," she said, giving a lazy wave of her wand that had all of the furniture moving back into place.

Remus chuckled as he shrugged out of his cloak.

"I know I've said it more times than I can count, but he is so like his father."

"I know he loves the comparison," she replied, carefully sliding the record of wizarding waltzes back into its sleeve and moving to close the gramophone.

"You can leave it open, 'Mione. I was going to listen to some music anyway. Helps me relax," Remus said. Then he cleared his throat. "Besides, I'm sure you have plans for the evening. I wouldn't want to keep you."

Hermione laughed, walking over to the crowded bookshelves and sliding the record with several others there.

"My plans include fictional characters and alcohol, so you're not keeping me from anything particularly important. Unless…" she added, trying to ignore her plummeting heart, "Am I keeping you? Shall I leave?"

"No!" he said quickly, and Hermione felt her pulse jump as a blush crossed his face. "I mean…I don't have plans and…and I enjoy your company…"

He trailed off, averting his eyes and moving behind his desk to shuffle papers before clearing his throat again.

"So…no plans? I thought you and George…" He trailed off again and Hermione gave him a bemused look.

"George and I haven't been together for over a year. Good lord, it can't have been that long since you and I have had a proper conversation, can it?" she asked, slightly disbelieving but knowing it completely possible.

He shrugged.

"Most of the time we see each other during social occasions. Hardly adequate for prolonged conversation. Especially at the boisterous events at the Burrow," he said, giving her that same boyish grin. "Plus, you've been busy. Hard at work saving the world one piece of legislation at a time."

She chuckled.

"Yes. Though, as much as I love the work, it does have its drawbacks. Lack of any type of social life being one of them."

"So…is that why you're not going out on Valentine's Day?" he asked tentatively, avoiding her eyes again.

"Well, it was either staying in or going to see some depressingly-sappy romantic film with Muggle friends from primary school so… yes."

He smiled.

"Then…would you like a drink? With me…here?" he asked, gesturing around him to the unadorned room, the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses snoozing in their frames on the walls.

"Drinking in the Headmaster's office? How very scandalous," she teased, but she made herself comfortable as he chuckled, pulling out a bottle of elf-made wine and conjuring a pair of goblets.

"I'm sure Sirius and James would be proud. Drinking wine with a beautiful woman in the Headmaster's office seems like something they would approve of," he said, and Hermione could have sworn she saw him blush again.

"I rather think they'd be jealous that they didn't do it first, though I'm sure I'm not up to their standards of 'beautiful'," she replied, smiling as she gratefully accepted the drink from him.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," he said quietly as he sat in the chair next to her, crossing his long legs.

Hermione felt heat creep up her neck.

"Thank you, Remus," she mumbled. Then she cleared her throat. "So…what shall we drink to? Friendship? Education? The benign malfeasances of mischievous Marauders?"

He gave her a small smile.

"How about we drink to Valentine's Day?" he asked quietly.

Hermione felt her mouth go dry, and she swallowed hard before nodding slightly.

"Sure. To Valentine's Day. May you find…well…that lucky woman who deserves you," she said.

He smiled as she took a sip.

"I've found her. And I believe she deserves better than me, though I would be deliriously happy for the opportunity to prove myself," he said simply, taking his own sip.

Hermione nearly choked, spluttering slightly as she looked at him incredulously.

"If you've found someone, why on earth are you here alone on Valentine's Day?" she asked hoarsely as she caught her breath.

He cocked his head to the side.

"I'm not alone on Valentine's Day," he replied before smiling and standing, moving to the shelf of records. Hermione watched him, her mind abuzz with thoughts and questions she was having trouble converting into clear, coherent sentences.

What had started as a schoolgirl crush nearly a decade earlier had grown, slowly, into an affection that she found harder and harder to ignore. It had been one of the primary reasons why she had left Grimmauld Place to venture out into the world of independence. She had known, back when she was just out of school and somewhat lonely, that developing unrequited feelings for a man twenty years her senior and more importantly her friend would lead to catastrophic results that the world didn't need so soon after the downfall of You-Know-Who.

So she had left the comfort and support of her surrogate family, took up a gruelling post at the Ministry, and all but removed herself from the busy every-day goings-on of the group, all to avoid situations like the one she was in.

Namely, being alone with the one man who made every logical, practical, and intelligent thought melt away from her admittedly-loquacious vocabulary.

The sounds of gentle strings caught her attention and she turned to see Remus standing by the gramophone, eyes closed as music trilled softly. As usual, everything faded from her mind, leaving her with one, breathless thought:

"You're exquisite."

The fact that his eyes met hers so quickly after the thought had passed made Hermione realize that she had actually said it aloud.

Blushing and inwardly berating herself for ignoring her usually-sound mental filter; it was her turn to avoid his gaze as she nearly threw her goblet on the desk and stood quickly.

"I should go. I'm sorry, Remus, I didn't mean to-"

But all the self-effacing, humbling, thoroughly-mortifying words of retraction were lost as her breath was snatched by a pair of very soft, very demanding lips.

It was as if the Weasley twins had set off every firework they had ever created within her body.

He tasted of wine, but of something deeper as well. There was a hint of everything she loved and nothing she hated and she was addicted immediately, wanting to consume him and at the time terrified by the sudden, irreversible need she had for him. Her fingers bent in a white-knuckled grasp on his lapel, pulling him closer as she lost herself in the swirl of sensations.

It could have been seconds, minutes, hours, or days, but finally they pulled away gasping. As she looked into his beautiful grey eyes, she realized that she had spent so much time avoiding eye-contact with him that she had almost forgotten the bright, almost incandescent hint of amber that always had both warned and comforted her.

His wolfish glow.

"Not that I'm complaining," he said, taking deep breaths, his hands glued to her hips. "But it was my understanding that good girls didn't kiss like that."

She grinned impishly, an inner fire bursting forth as she read the look of surprise and unrestrained desire upon his face.

"The hell they don't," she breathed, pulling him down for another deep, passionate kiss before pulling back slightly, eyes still focused on his as their foreheads touched. "And who the fuck said I was a good girl anyway?"

He grinned that grin again, and she was lost.

Somewhere amidst the delicious nip of his teeth on her neck, the frantic combing of her hands through his hair, the near-tearing of his shirt from his body and the press of his rough palms against her semi-nude form, Hermione found herself luxuriating against the cold stone floor, Remus's warm body resting atop hers.

It was at that unfortunate moment that all the logic, practicality and all-round intelligence seemed to return in one, blinding thought.

"Remus," she said, trying to ignore how much younger and utterly gorgeous he looked with his eyes slightly unfocused and his hair mussed.

"Yes, dear?" he replied mildly, a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips which distracted her for a good seven seconds before she remembered why she had stopped their kissing to begin with.

"We're snogging in the Headmaster's office," she whispered, her eyes searching his as if to clarify that the statement was true.

He smirked.

"I won't tell anyone if you won't," he replied, leaning in to kiss her.

She pulled back, wincing as she hit her head against the floor.

"Yes, but…"

He pulled away immediately.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I got carried away. Forgive…"

"No!" she nearly screamed, and he looked at her somewhat startled as she blushed again.

"That is to say," she added, a few decibels softer, "That we're snogging in the Headmaster's office and I would…I would very much like to continue…"

He arched an eyebrow and her blush deepened.

"I'm just…I'm concerned about…er…interruptions," she finished lamely.

There was a feral, almost predatory flash to his eyes that had her tingling all over. He moved gracefully over to her, lording over her body with his own as she found herself falling back against the ground, his hips situated conveniently between her legs.

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Granger," he said, his lips dipping down to her collarbone. "I think I have a few tricks up my sleeve that could afford us a little privacy with the least amount of movement." He reached into the pocket of his trousers and produced his wand. "Not the least of which being the ability to lock the door without leaving your side."

With a casual wave of his wand, there was a click, and he turned back to her with a lazy, sexy smile.

"Right then," he whispered. "Where were we? Ah yes…snogging in the Headmaster's office."

"How very scandalous," Hermione said with a smile.

He chuckled.

"Just wait, Miss Granger. Locking doors isn't the only trick I have up my sleeve," he breathed before catching her lips again.

It was several hours before they were able to move from the floor to the decidedly more discreet Headmaster's bedroom and surrendering to what was turning out to be the very be a very good Valentine's Day indeed.

It took quite a bit longer for any of the portraits to look at either of them again, however, without looking positively scandalized.

Thanks for reading!

If you liked it, go vote for it! If you didn't...well... :-p