Hermione flew down the halls, late again.

Her cloak billowing around her, the heavy bag at her side weighing her down slightly, but it couldn't be helped. If she didn't get there now then she's be staying behind later, and that just wasn't an option.

Just as she rounded the corner to the staircase for charms, she collided with something hard, warm, pissed off and blonde.

"Bloody hell Granger, you could take out a fucking Rugby team with a shoulder barge like that!"

She took a deep breath; the wind being knocked out of her as she was now splayed across the cold floor. Her parchments and books lying around as her bag has split open at the impact. She glowered in utter contempt and then looked up at Malfoy.

"I've got one hell of a right hook too, if you can remember ..." she started to pick her things up, putting them into her bag as she went.

She heard him grunt something in disapproval at her as he also went about picking his own things up, not bothering to decipher whose bits of parchment was whose.

She felt his presence leave her side as he stood up.

"And you always said that I was the insufferable one ..." he answered her as he looked down at her, before turning the corner and walking away.

Bloody brilliant. Now she was definitely going to be late.

She managed to right herself before taking more care to get to class. Once gaining access and mumbling her apologies she sat down and hastily began to correct her bag, putting the contents of it back in place.

She frowned.

Where the bloody hell was it?

She flicked through a few more pieces of parchment, panicking at not being able to find the one that she really needed to make sure was still in there.

Only, it wasn't.

Hermione stopped dead still. Absolute terror rising in her throat, a silent scream inside of her. The horror of a situation that was unfolding in front of her, and she was powerless to stop it.

Draco Malfoy had her parchment.

She was going to be sick.

"You know I can't stop myself. I can't stop –". Why did she have to be so straight forward with him?

He put both hands up to her gorgeous, exasperating, frowning face. "I'm the one who can't go anywhere without seeing you all around me..."

"Then let me be everywhere now. Let me stay around you." He lowered his lips as close to hers as he could without kissing them.

"If I do, I won't ever want you to leave." She stared hungrily at his mouth as she said it.

"Good." Her bag hit the floor just as his lips crashed against hers. Those lips, those glistening, juicy lips.

He had heard so many surprising things come out of them, but this little humming sound that she was making as her tongue tangled with his was his favourite. She was spicy, but she tasted so sweet.

He pushed her two steps back, against the side of the cold stone wall and lifted her up by her thighs, and she wrapped her legs tight around his waist. Her hands gripping the side of his shirt, she gasped, and her head dropped back as he tugged on her hair so that he could kiss her smooth neck.

"Oh my God..." she whispered, arching her back.

"You're going to show me how naughty you really are." he told her roughly, panting with need.

And then she was threading her fingers through his hair and they were kissing again. The truth was, he'd never kissed someone with this much feeling before.

She wriggled around. It was fucking unbearable how much she was wriggling and writhing around. He realised she was moving her cloak away and tossing it aside. She could move around more freely then, and there was one less layer of clothing between his chest and her beautiful swelling tits.

He lowered her until her feet were back on the floor so he could slip his fingers up under that blouse that hugged her tits perfectly and placed his hand on one soft, perky breast.

Her bra was lacy, and her nipple was so hard. She stroked his throbbing hard dick through his pants.

"Fucking hell, you're making me fucking crazy." This had already gone too far.She put her hand on his, the one that was squeezing her arse, that sexy, round arse, and brought it around and slid it down inside the top of her skirt and down into her knickers.

"I want you to feel how wet I am for you." She mewled.

"Jesus." He groaned.

The slippery warmth of her was so much more than proof of how much she wanted him. It was proof that she knew he was forbidden, but she wanted it anyway.

"We need to stop." He told her through clenched teeth.

"No, don't stop." She slowly turned around to face the wall, his hand was still down the front of her skirt.

She placed her palms flat against the wall and rocked back and forth against his hand while rubbing her arse against his crotch.His groan echoed around the corridor, his fingers found her clit and rubbed slow and steady.

His other hand reached around to massage her breast, and there were about a dozen other things he wanted to do to the girl right now, but in this moment, he just needed to make her come fast and quiet.

She was already right there on the edge.

He whispered into her ear.

"You want to come for me right now?"

"Yes."

"This is who you are? This is what you want?"

"Yes. Yes..."

"You better stay quiet."

"Uh-huh."His fingers slipped inside of her. She moaned as she clenched around them.

She was so hot and wet and tight. She reached behind herself to grab on to his hair and whimpered while he fucked her with his fingers.

He bit down on the part of her shoulder that was peeking through her blouse—not hard, but he could tell she liked it.

"Oh shit," she sighed.She started to undulate and moan. He had to let go of her glorious tit so he could cover her mouth because he could tell she wasn't going to be quiet at all.

He rubbed hard and fast against her clit to make her buck and swear and scream his name into the palm of his hand, and he didn't stop until she clenched up one final time.

"Fuck, please ..." He didn't pull his hand out of her knickers until the aftershocks had subsided and she had collapsed against his chest.

His breaths matched hers. She turned to face him, ran her fingers through her hair, then ran her fingers through his hair, and kissed him tenderly.

Draco sat back in his desk chair, staring at the parchment in a cloud of ... he wasn't sure what.

Jesus Christ, Granger ... you've got some imagination.

Don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact, don't make eye contact ...

She looked up out of temptation.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

He was heading over to her. Her stomach was practically on the floor.

There was a small slapping sound of parchment hitting the table. Luckily, there weren't many people around in the library this evening to witness this embarrassing scene.

"These aren't my Arithmancy notes." Malfoy finally told her, a quiet tone in his voice.

Without looking at him, Hermione reached into her bag and pulled his notes out. She put them on the table and pushed them over to him, before going back to her homework and not looking at him. If they could do this transaction without needing to speak then that would be marvellous.

"I have to say Granger, I'm surprised ... never had you pegged as a smut writer ... a hobby of yours, I take it?"

Her cheeks flamed. She looked up at his smirking face and glared at him.

"It's none of your business, Malfoy. I am disgusted that you would even think to read my private notes."

He put his hands on the table and bent down opposite her. "I thought they were my notes...""he said indignantly. "I didn't realise what I was reading until I was two paragraphs in and then I couldn't exactly stop, could I?" he was almost at a whisper now.

Hermione made a face.

"Why couldn't you stop?" she asked him curiously.

She could see Malfoy trying to think of an answer. Anything to not make what he was saying come out like a compliment.

"I'm a 17-year-old lad, Granger." He finally answered pointedly. "That's like asking me to stop halfway through sex."

Hermione didn't know where to look. Anywhere but at his mocking eyes.

"Oh, don't even bother blushing..." He said with humour in his voice. She could feel his blue eyes staring down at her. "After what I read from you last night, I hardly think this prudish little display will work anymore."

Hermione looked up and glared at him. "Just because I write it, doesn't mean-"

"Save it Granger." He put his hand up and stopped her abruptly. "I'm not interested in your lack-lustre love-life. I am, however, curious about your little hobby ..." his smirk was almost to his eyes.

What the pissing hell was he planning?

"And what exactly are you curious about?" she asked him, crossing her arms over her chest and eyeing him suspiciously.

"I want you to write for me, Granger." he told her nonchalantly.

Oh ... he was serious ...

"what? Why?-" she began, that feeling in her stomach ebbing out again.

"You don't need to know why ... just do it or I'll tell everyone about that kinky little fetish that you're trying so hard to keep hidden." There was a massive grin on his face.

Hermione was livid. "So, you're essentially blackmailing me?" what a bastard.

Malfoy shrugged. "I wouldn't call it blackmail... I'd call it adhering to a service." He straightened his back.

"Blackmail." She retorted defensively; arms still crossed.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Have a piece to me by Friday or I'll start ... repeating ..." she really fucking hated that smirk.

Hermione huffed.

She couldn't believe she was even considering this.

Fine.

If he wanted a story, she'd give him a story.

He'd regret asking her, she would make sure of it.

"Friday it is, then." She finally told him, offering him a vindictive smile. She could tell it alarmed him.

"Better be a good one, Granger" he told her finally as he made his way to leave. "I'll know if you're holding out on me."

He turned and left.

What the fuck had just happened here?

Well, that hadn't been part of the fucking plan.

Give it back to her, you said. Watch her squirm, you said.

Didn't plan on you asking her to write you some smutty story instead, though ... you're an absolute cock.

It hadn't been his intention at all. But fuck ...

He'd read it three times already. Each time his imagination had got carried away with him and he unwillingly imagined it was him in that little story and a faceless girl. He could see himself being the one to do those naughty little things to the willing girl... make her want it.

It felt like a powerful aphrodisiac. He even gave the story back to her unwillingly. He didn't actually want to; he had wanted to keep it for his own private little fantasies.

Fuck, Granger had a talent.

Granger ...

That was the big issue though, wasn't it? Little Miss high and fucking mighty. The golden girl ... the girl who lived to piss him off. Those words had been written by her. She'd put her pen on the parchment and created a story that had fully enthralled him. He couldn't actually remember ever reading anything so ... sexual.

And then he couldn't help himself.

After all, what was a bit of innocent blackmail between two people who didn't like each other very much? It was nice to watch her squirm, after all. And, what better way to make her do it?

You're going straight to the fiery depths of hell, mate.

Yeah ... but he didn't mind so much if he could take one of her dirty little stories with him for light reading.