Of Sunrises and Cigarettes

Part Two: Habit

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Warnings: femmeslash (Padma/Hermione), masturbation, petting

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The library is probably Padma's favorite place in the whole castle. It's so old, musty, and full of knowledge that she's sure that even if she tried she'd never be able to read every book on the shelves. This, she tells herself as she flips through the pages of her Potion's text, has to be the closest to euphoria as she'll ever feel. But, even though this is a quiet, sacred, perfect space she couldn't care less about the whispers or the rumpled papers as long as no one bursts her private bubble.

Her fingers ghost down to her thigh, teasing the skin for just a moment before slipping past the hem of her skirt. It's unconscious, something she doesn't realize she's doing until her body is shaking slightly and building up to a spectacular climax. The first time she almost got caught, by Terry Boot no less, Padma thought her heart was going to explode and leak out of her throat. But apparently the smell and heat of it all simply blended in with the overall atmosphere and she'd smiled prettily and jerked her fingers out from under the elastic. Fortunately, for a Ravenclaw, Terry was quite dull.

It's certainly not something she'd do on purpose, fingering herself to near insanity while pouring over a book on Bridget Wenlock. Surprisingly it helps her remember and she has of yet to stop blushing during exams when she can not only recall exactly what the question was asking for but what her body was doing at that same time. Thankfully it's too late for any normal people to be out so she can simply chew the inside of her body lip and push her thighs further apart.

She hadn't expected Madam Pince to sneak up behind her brandishing a feather duster. Face slick with sweat and a blush darker than any rouge Lavender had ever used, Padma quietly adjusted herself. Hoping she looked less flustered than she felt, she picked up her things and sucked at her fingers as she slipped out. There was at least another hour on the clock before curfew and she desperately wanted to smoke. Rifling through her shoulder satchel, she was lighting up before she'd hit the courtyard.

Every once in a while there's that almost heavenly perfect cigarette. Then it's like presents on Christmas or getting top marks on one of Snape's essays. Most of the time it's mediocrity and somewhat stale, but, she tends to forget those times when she finally gets that perfect one. But there's a cough and when Padma looks around she groans because she forgot that Hermione and Anthony were doing rounds.

"You've got fifteen more minutes before curfew. And you should really stub that out, it isn't healthy."

The surprise of not hearing fifty sodding points from Ravenclaw sets her off kilter and so she continues to bring the cigarette to her lips and blow smoke in the opposite direction. Quite frankly, she's always been good about reading people and Hermione Granger looks frazzled and worn. Obviously looking after the other two thirds of the Golden Trio is doing nothing for her complexion. Sighing loudly, Padma holds out what's left of her cigarette and flashes a secret grin when the Virginal Princess of Gryffindor takes it.

"Anthony drive you batty?"

Hermione snorts and it's obvious that neither has to say anything else about that. The last bit of ash comes off the butt and soon it's being crushed down into the cobblestone by the toe of the Gryffindor's shoe. They could talk about their marks, both are at the top of their respective houses, but Padma's horny and Hermione just looks so absolutely fatigued that she forgets they've got exactly four minutes before curfew and leans forward and kisses her.

There's supposed to be a fight. Miss Bushy Hair Absolute Know It All is supposed to squirm and whimper and murmur apologies before she sneaks up to her bed to cry. But Padma's fingers are become delightfully tangled in that fly away frizzy nest and her knee is gracefully parting smooth, pale knees and Hermione's doing nothing about it. Nothing except that she's nipping at Padma's bottom lip and making the sweetest keening sounds she ever heard in her entire life. And with fifteen seconds left of curfew, the generally pessimistic twin pulls away and goes to fix her mussed hair.

"You just…just…Padma Patil, I am not a lesbian.'

"And I don't get off in the library while I'm studying."

That raises an eyebrow and then Padma can't stop laughing until her body is shaking with spasms. It's her first unadulterated laugh since Parvati powdered her cheeks with saffron and ended up sneezing for a week. Once she catches her breath and realizes that it's two minutes past curfew, the utterly triumphant Ravenclaw rearranges herself and offers her hand. She's not aware of holding her breath until Hermione takes it and they start off towards the stairs.

The young woman beside her is so closeted its not even funny, but, then again, so is Padma. Well, to the extent that she'd never sit up and simply scream it across the common room like Katherine Mathers did Second Year when Micah Arnold asked her to Hogsmeade. However, she's quite comfortable enough to knock Hermione off balance and push her into the nearest dark corner. And all she can think of is that the body beneath her feels like silk and smells like peppermint and that if she can't keep kissing her she'll shrivel up and die. Somehow the Prissy Perfect Prefect of Gryffindor has enough sense to slip her hands up under Padma's blouse and begin feeling for the clasp of her bra.

It's fast and clumsy and she's certainly not going to touch Hermione there in that one right spot twenty minutes after curfew because that's wrong and she wants it to mean something. So they simply kiss and pet and nip and the hallway is filled with soft, urgent sounds that would probably give Filch a heart attack if he happened to hear them. There are so many feelings floating around and popping like bubbles but the one Padma feels the most is longing. She certainly doesn't want Hermione to go up those stairs to Gryffindor Tower and touch herself while she falls into a deep, solid sleep. But they obviously can't go to bed together and they have class in the morning. Neither would ever miss a class for something as base as shagging in the hallway.

"I…"

"If you want to study together after class, we could do something afterwards."

Had someone told Padma that she'd become giddy over the way Hermione flushed at those words, she would have labeled them deluded and stomped off. But, here she is, hurriedly pulling her clothes off so that she can slip into bed and she's not caring that Cho's a couple beds down and probably awake, listening. Because even as she's pulling the covers over her head and sliding her hand down to touch herself, all she can see is the way Hermione falls apart when someone starts to pay attention to her. And maybe it's wrong and maybe she's taking advantage but it really stopped mattering when she got caught in the courtyard.

People will start commenting on how odd it is that they're spending so much time together, whisper, and make assumptions. Parvati will purse her lips and complain that Padma shouldn't spend too much time with Hermione because it's not like they don't study enough as it is. Cho will pretend like she doesn't notice that she's coming in later than usual and that she enters the Great Hall Saturday mornings with Hermione by her side, both smelling like fresh air. Because she's never really cared what people say anyway and she's tired of waiting for something she'll never have.