Hermione jerked awake, barely catching herself before her head slammed onto the heavy wooden table. She looked around the dark library, swearing to herself as she hurriedly gathered the parchment spread out in front of her, shoving them haphazardly into her satchel before returning the borrowed books to their appropriate places on the shelves.

This had been happening a lot as of late; her falling asleep in the library, only to wake up to it being completely abandoned and the time being well-past curfew. It was her NEWT year, after all, and she spent all of her free time studying for the upcoming exams. Nevermind that they were months away—she needed to be prepared if she wanted to get the highest marks, and she wouldn't achieve that if she slacked off in her preparations.

She hurried out into the corridor, casting a quick lumos to better illuminate her path back to the Head dorms. Being Head Girl did have its perks, and the fact that nobody would question her wandering about the castle late at night was one of them.

She stepped off the staircase, making to walk towards her dorm, when she nearly walked into a dark figure lurking about the corridor.

"Oi, what're you doing out after hours?" She inquired authoritatively, jabbing her wand in their direction to get a good look at them.

"The same could be asked of you."

"Oh! Professor! My apologies," she blurted, lowering her wand that he was squinting at, the bright light far too jarring in comparison to the darkness of the castle. "I thought you were a student."

"Haven't been for ten years, I'm afraid," He said, raising a dark eyebrow. "Where are you returning from?"

"The library. I was studying and managed to fall asleep."

"You should be more careful. It's hard to tell what you'll find lurking around at night." He said wryly, smirking. His eyes bore into her, nearly black in the poor lighting, and she squirmed under the attention.

"Well, luckily, I stumbled upon you instead of anything particularly troublesome."

"Luckily indeed," He murmured, adjusting his glasses on his nose, "Speaking of trouble—you needn't worry about Malfoy anymore. His last detention was tonight, and I dare say he's been set straight about his unjust treatment towards you."

"Is that so?" She asked, doubtful. She had dealt with Malfoy for nearly seven years; it was hard to believe anything about him was capable of changing at this point.

"Do you doubt my capabilities as a Professor, Miss Granger?" He questioned, visibly irritated. His jaw clenched, the strain of it displayed in the rigidity of his neck.

"Absolutely not. I doubt Malfoy more than anything."

"I said I'd look out for you, Hermione, and I meant it," He took a step closer to her, looking down into her eyes with an intensity she couldn't quite understand. "You've nothing to worry about when I'm around—I'm not one to make promises lightly."

She gulped, craning her neck to look up at him, their chests nearly touching.

"I trust you, of course," she said earnestly, and she meant it. Despite only knowing him for a short amount of time, he had displayed the most trustworthiness out of any of her professors. He was the only one to truly intervene when someone decided to use their prejudices against her.

"That pleases me more than it should," He admitted, so quietly she knew she wasn't supposed to hear it, his lips barely moving. Her heart raced, thumping rhythmically in her chest and threatening to jump out at any moment.

"I'm happy to please you, sir," She said, nearly smacking her hand into her forehead on the spot as the words spilled from her mouth. She thought for certain she would drown in the embarrassment swimming around her head.

"Is that so?" He quirked his lips, leaning more closely to her, their lips inches from touching. "How would you like to please me, Hermione?" He breathed, the smell of cinnamon overwhelming her senses and causing her eyes to flutter. She felt warmth pool in her abdomen at the way his voice dropped, a husky sound that sent shivers throughout her body.

"P-pardon me, Professor?" She stuttered, dropping her satchel and stumbling backwards as he followed her, her back hitting the stone wall. She found relief in the coldness of the stone in comparison to the heat coursing through her body—but the relief was short lived when he placed his hands beside her head, effectively caging her, and leaning over her, his head dipping to keep his face close to hers.

"I thought I told you to call me Tom," he corrected, tutting. "Not good at following directions tonight, are we, Hermione? Avoiding my questions, using my incorrect name. What are we going to do with you?"

"I don't know," She panted, breathing sporadically, unsure if she would ever properly catch her breath with him this close to her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think; all she could do was look helplessly into his dark eyes that seemingly pinned her to the spot. "What are we going to do?"

He chuckled, deep and throaty, as he pushed a wayward curl behind her ear.

"What do you want me to do, Hermione? Be honest. I'll know if you're lying."

"I want you to kiss me." Her thoughts came rushing from her mouth, impurities that she couldn't fight back any longer; she was practically panting with want, her chest heaving and her cheeks colouring red. He stared at her for a moment, eyes searching for something in her, and she wondered if she had said the wrong thing, when his lips came crashing down upon hers roughly.

She let out an errant moan, the unexpected collision between the two igniting something inside her as she fisted her hands in his curls, happily surprised by the softness she found. His lips moved against hers, his tongue flicking out against her lower lip before he bit down, gently at first, then more firmly, causing her to gasp and him to take advantage of it, deepening the kiss and pulling her closer.

His hands moved to her hips, lifting her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, his length straining against his trousers as he pressed into her, rocking his hips and eliciting another soft moan from Hermione.

"Do you want me to touch you, Hermione?" He whispered into her ear, husky and deep, before beginning to trail kisses down her jawline.

"Please, Tom," She gasped out, breathless, head leaning firmly against the wall as she angled herself to give him better access.

He simply nodded, continuing his trail down to her neck, peppering kisses and gentle bites as his right hand reached up under her pleated skirt, traveling up her thigh and coming to a stop at her cotton knickers.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked, stopping his assault of kisses to look her in the eyes, his glasses fogged from the heat of their interaction.

"Yes, please," She mewled, unfamiliar with her voice at the moment. When had she ever sounded so desperate?

She groaned as his fingers pushed aside her knickers, gently petting her wet entrance, her hips bucking forward involuntarily at the contact.

He smirked into her neck and pushed further, his thumb circling her clit and finger delving into her folds. She saw stars in her eyes at the sensation, clinging desperately to his shoulders for life and moving her hips in time with his thrusts.

"You're doing so well, Hermione," He purred, and she thought she would die from the sound; he was encouraging her as he touched her, and heat blossomed in her chest at the praise. "You're taking my finger perfectly. Can you handle another?"

She merely nodded, distrusting of her voice, and moaned loud enough that he covered her mouth when he inserted another finger, thrusting in and out, continuing the assault on her clit all the while.

"Shhhh. You don't want anyone to see us like this, do you? Be quiet, love," He instructed, forehead resting on her shoulder. She turned her head to his neck, choosing to mumble nonsense into him instead; he didn't seem to mind, as he groaned whenever she quietly swore to herself.

"Tom, I'm so close," She gasped, feeling the building in her abdomen grow by the second.

"I want you to come for me, Hermione," He said, very seriously, as he began pumping his fingers more quickly. "Can you do that, love? Come for me."

His words sent her over the edge, her walls closing around his fingers sporadically as she came, stars bursting in her eyes and her head swimming in nothingness.

Tom sat her feet back on the floor after she was done, smoothing her skirt down for her and adjusting his trousers, grimacing at the friction. He took his glasses off, cleaned them on his shirt, and returned them onto his nose.

"Tom, that was—"

"Probably a mistake," He said honestly, raking a hand through his hair. "But worth it, I think." He adjusted his oxford, attempting to remove some of the wrinkles from where she had clung to him, a sign of her desperation. She felt a blush form up her throat.

"I'm glad you think so, too," She said honestly, absentmindedly fussing with her hair, certain it was out of sorts.

He stared at her for another moment, eyebrows furrowed, almost as though he were confused as to why he was there.

"Yes. Well," He cleared his throat, gently shaking his head. "Head to bed, Miss Granger. I'll see you for class in the morning." The authority returned to his voice, much more reminiscent of the professor she was used to, and she found herself straightening up, nodding her understanding. "We'll discuss.. This.. Later."

"Yes, sir," she said, gathering her satchel and heading towards her dormitory. She felt his eyes on her until she disappeared around the corner, and thought about them as she fell into bed.