The student uniforms at Hogwarts were markedly different than the uniforms at many other wizarding schools. The rather unremarkable grey trousers or skirt--though the Weasley twins had asked, it had been a firm rule that only the girls could wear skirts--white shirt with grey sweater, and House tie covered by black robe was an unusual combination of Muggle and wizarding clothing.
Certainly, at Durmstrang, the students would never wear Muggle clothing. But even those students at Hogwarts with strong wizarding bloodlines and no love of Muggles--no one would ever accuse Draco Malfoy of such a thing--wore the uniform.
Naturally, being Muggle-born, Hermione Granger had never had a problem with the combination. The robe worn over her skirt had actually been a relief, as she felt better covered with it. Skirts were always a liability when sharing space with petty, spiteful boys like Malfoy. A robe gave the little prat no chance to play pranks of the lifting the skirt so everyone could see her knickers variety.
So when she had moved from school into the real wizarding world, the transition to almost exclusively robes was not difficult. Not always practical, not for any sort of true physical activity, Hermione hadn't found many reasons to engage in much physical activity. There had been relatively rare instances of having to run for one reason or another, but nothing life-threatening.
It had been completely by chance that she had found the little shop that did small tailoring jobs for reasonable prices. Hermione had parted with her money to have a small selection of her robes done up with a slit from floor to mid-thigh on the left side. It wasn't at all for any sort of appearance, but it afforded a bit more freedom of movement.
Wonderful freedom. Delicious freedom.
~
His lips worked across her neck, across her pulse there, and up to her ear.
The stone of the corridor was cold on her back, but the heat his touch was instilling made it easy to forget. Her head tilted this way and that to accommodate him as her hands worked into his hair. Not to steer him, but to follow along with his explorations, adding pressure here and there. She tried to voice the feelings of the fire he left burning on her sensitive flesh, but no.
"Sh," he whispered, his hot breath washing across her ear, "you don't want anyone to find us here, do you?"
If it meant this had to stop? She shook her head, and tried to kiss him, but his lips were elusive.
"No, not here," he whispered before attacking her neck once more.
Somewhat glazed over, she turned her eyes to the right where the main hall was a scant two meters away. There was a charm to make passers-bye not notice their physical presence, but too loud a noise would draw someone. And it was so close to dinner...
"Oh, oh yes, Hermione," he hissed, and his hand slipped into the subtle slit in her robes. There was bare thigh beneath it.
Smiling and arching her hips forward into him, she said, "I never told you about that, did I?" As his hand moved up, it became more difficult to compose her thoughts and turn them into words.
It didn't matter as he captured her mouth, his hair curtaining off their faces and hiding the play of tongues in wide open mouths.
Dimly, she heard the bell ring. The school would be making its way to dinner very soon, all students and staff passing this very spot. If she could just keep quiet, there wouldn't be a problem. A questing hand was taking hold of this effort, along with her underwear, and taking control. A flash of heat and she moaned as her clothing disappeared.
"Quiet now," he whispered, stroking her lips with his tongue as he gently fondled her, cupping her first, stroking her engorged labia, and manipulating her clitoris with his thumb. "They'll be down here very soon now."
One more quiet moan escaped, before she leaned her face against his shoulder and bit down on his robes. Even the noise of her own breathing through her nose sounded far too loud. "Do it," she said quietly, but with the desperation very evident. Evident in her voice, the way her hands clutched at him, the way her entire body quivered, the way her sex throbbed and ran wet.
The hand left, fro too long, and Hermione felt indistinct movement, though she could very well imagine what was going on. Then the hand returned, locating the parting in the robes and sweeping the rich fabric aside. Lovely, long-fingered hand number one grasped the back of her left thigh. Number two grasped the back of her right, and as she was lifted against him, she hooked her legs around his waist.
There was the sound of feet indicating the arrival of the students, and Hermione closed her eyes to avoid seeing the tide. The chattering of a group of young Hufflepuffs covered the sound of her gasp as he slid smoothly into her core, undisturbed by the potential witnesses.
"Sev--"
"Sh."
And with her back to the wall, his hands under her, her legs around him, and her robe covering their connection, he began to fuck her as students walked into the Great Hall. One curious glance and it would be over, to everyone's embarrassment.
The charm held though, and no one looked. As he thrust sharply into her, making the encounter more about release and danger than love, Hermione managed to keep quiet, tearing at his robe with her teeth and crushing him with her arms and legs.
In a moment of bravery, she opened her eyes and looked at the children moving by, talking to one another, eyes almost looking at her, but not quite. Just one movement, that pair of eyes or those settling on her, a flicker of recognition, all her students watching her in this hallway having sex with a tall, dark man they didn't know... "Oh no!" one child would squeal. "Professor Granger's being raped!"
Releasing his now-ripped robe, she tilted her head back, sucked in by the danger of it all, and gasped, "Se-ver-us..."
Harder now, and he used his tongue to do the same thing to her mouth. It muffled her groans as she came hard, writhing against him. Arching her body against him hard, one last time, and releasing a final tremulous moan loud enough to alert the dead, Hermione eventually stilled.
Her body twitched, grasping him from within and out until he hissed in her ear. Once, twice, a third time she was pressed up against the wall, and then he relaxed as she had. "You're filthy, love," he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her cheek.
"I learned it all from you." She smiled as she tried to regain her breath. "And you disintegrated my underwear."
"I never liked that pair anyway."
It was her turn to kiss him on the cheek as they slowly separated. Her first touch on the ground was wobbly, and she had to cling to him. The small smile changed to a wicked grin as she looked up at him. "And you said me teaching would never work. We see each other in the hallway every day."
END
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Could vaguely relate to Coachwhip, with Hermione being a teacher and the students not knowing who Snape is. Just a short Skinemax smut piece on a lark though.