Hermione Granger looks for a book and doesn't find it.

Warning: PWP Smut

Enjoy

Hermione Granger was in the Hogwarts Library browsing books among the shelves. She was quite far into the often ignored biographies section looking for a book on Gunter Thorsson, a Scandinavian Wizard with a talent for lightning magic and the subject of an essay for Professor Binns.

Hermione slowly worked her way along the shelves scanning high and low for a mention of the man in a title or maybe a more general book on famous Scandinavian wizards. As she moved along the shelves, up and down, Hermione mentally drafted a proposal to have the library organized .

There!

Hermione sighed out of frustration as her lead had turned out to be about a wizard called Gunther the Particularly Incompetent. Hermione bent over to replace the book on its shelf, just below waist height. As she slid the book into the place, she suddenly felt a very male body press up against her. Hermione froze.

"Hermione," Harry's voice calmed her down and stopped her from panicking. "You were supposed to meet me in the Common Room almost half an hour ago."

Opps.

"I'm sorry Harry," Hermione apologised and straightened up. "I just wanted to find a book for Binn's essay." Harry was standing awfully close to her. "I didn't mean to lose track of the time."

"I guessed as much, so I went to find you." Harry's breath was hot on her shoulder, his voice rougher than usual. "It was quite difficult to find you here, Hermione. We're pretty far from the rest of the people in the library."

"Yeah," Hermione swallowed, suddenly nervous. "This section is fairly far away and not many people bother look for books here. I bet it took a good bit to find me." Somehow that seemed like the wrong thing to say.

"Yes." Harry almost hissed out the word. "It was difficult and took time, but I persevered." His hands moved to her waist, thumbs rubbing circles. The hands moved down her legs. "I think I deserve a reward."

That sounded more like a threat or a promise.

Harry's hands slid under Hermione's skirt, rough-skinned fingers running over smooth thighs. Hermione gasped, strangely loud in the quiet air.

"Hush, 'Mine, you wouldn't want anyone to hear you" Harry purred into her ears. Hermione felt a small nip of teeth on her earlobe, and hot breath on the back of her neck. She shivered, her knees felt weak, her heart raced. Harry took a step forward and Hermione was pushed against the shelves. Harry's hands added small squeezes to the slow rubbing motions. Hermione's intake of breath caused her to be very aware that her breasts were pressed against the hard covered spines of the books in front of her. Just barely rubbing against them with every tiny motion. Her whole body trembled.

One of Harry's hands wandered over her arse, a slight squeeze caused her to freeze. Her breath stopped.

His hand was on her arse.
His Hand Was On Her Arse.

A small, deft movement of his fingers pulled at her panties and they let them snap back against her hip.

Hermione nearly jumped at the fast and unexpected sensation. Her heart hammered in her chest. Harry just chuckled darkly.

Apart of Hermione's brain wondered if her could feel her heart pounding, they were very close to each other.

For a moment neither dared to move. A moment later, Hermione dared to breathe. Her breath spilled out hot and fast. Her heart raced, adrenaline pumping through her veins as she panted onto the books she was pressed against.

Why was the room so hot when the air felt cool against her skin?

Harry made a low noise in the back of his throat, more vibration than sound. A pleased, amused noise. His hands, those bloody hands, slid upward until they reached the waistband of her panties and pulled down, down, down until Hermione was uncovered and her panties were around her knees. Hermione let out a whimper, tiny and very loud at the same time. Harry made the low noise again. It was like the purr of a cat and a very sinister laugh.

Hermione felt a hard tug from her knees, it was very fast and sharp. There was a fast ripping noise, over in a second but lasted forever. The pull was gone and so were her panties. Harry made his low noise again, full of amusement and dripping with lust.

He found this funny.

This game of control, power and sex, it amused him. Hermione whimpered, a sound of fear and many other emotions.

Hermione felt something warm, wet and a little rough touch the back of her neck. Harry's tongue traced out a pattern of circles and sharp angles on the skin and slid among the thin hairs there. This new feeling almost distracted Hermione from feeling that Harry's hands had slid back up her thighs and were now very interested in the inside of her thighs and her rear. Hermione discovered, right then and there, that the thin cloth of the panties, that very thin and not very protective cotton was actually very, very sensation dulling. This feeling of being rubbed without them there was very much more intense and acute. She could feel every little crease of skin, every tiny, rough callous and every bloody millimeter of skin on those bloody hands.

Hermione hated those hands. At that moment, those hands were Enemy Number One. Or they would be if Hermione could think clearly enough.

It was then that the hands committed another offense. They slid up to the side of her hips. Then forwards and around. They touched her around her most hidden place. The hands ran themselves through the short and curly hair there and rubbed their little circles and squeezed tiny and delicate pinches that didn't hurt. The hands retreated back to the sides and down to her thighs again where they went back to the now familiar work.

The hands went back again, rubbing pinching squeezing and sometimes pulling gently at hairs, but retreated, then back, away. Back. Away. Over and over they moved, never the same twice, sometime slow, sometimes quick, never touching that most sensitive place.

Then during that most sensitive attack on the Front, they stopped. then slowly ever so slowly they moved down. The whole of time itself slowed down as well as Hermione became focused only on the hands and forgot the rest of the world. A droplet of sweat rolled down the side of Hermione's face and she didn't notice until Harry licked that droop of sweat off and the world immediately around her came crashing back in a very disorienting way. Harry was behind her pressing her into Bookshelves while His Hands touched her down there. It wasn't fair that she was outnumbered and surrounded like this.

The feelings from her womanhood were too intense to think more deeply than this. Right then Hermione wasn't aware of a lot of things, including her last name, but she knew that her secret and previously untouched place had an inside where the hands hadn't gone yet. She also suspected that if something went inside it would hurt. She also suspected the opposite but for reasons unavailable to her currently limited thought process she was more focused on the hurting theory.

This, of course, is when the hands decided to do something different. They abandoned their assault on Hermione's womanhood and simply slid up pulling her skirt up with them and letting cold air strike at her heated core. The skirt dropped back and she was covered again. Hermione felt many emotions, one of them relief and another frustration, the hands were now resting just under her breasts and between her ribcage and the shelves. They stayed there for a moment and forever, before moving upward to the trapped mounds, lifting them cupping them. Never roughly, never really hurting them, but they ached and burned and it was almost worse than pain. Hermione's bra kept the two breasts, still small, pert, and young, from moving too much or from feeling most of the little movements but was still thin enough for the caresses to reach her. A feat of skill considering that Hermione's chest was still pressed into the bookshelves.

This apparently frustrated Harry and his hands slid under the folds of robes and her tie and unbuttoned her blouse not the top button but the three under it. He slid his hands under the now opened shirt and began to finger at her bra.

The rubbing began again the feelings undampened by the thick cloth of her robes or the thin blouse now the only thing between the hands and the breasts were the cups of her bra, which had somehow become much thinner and transmissive. This would be a problem if Harry continued on as he had before.

He did.

Harry managed to slide, first his fingers, then his palms, under her bra. He and his hands attacked every inch of the smooth and soft flesh of the now scorching breasts. Hermione felt the hands tickle and squeeze every tiny inch of flesh, they seemed to like the nipples, now hard as stone and much pointier than before.

Hermione didn't know if she liked this, hated this, wanted Harry and those bloody hands to stop, wanted to be free of the bookshelves. She just knew that this was happening to her. Every touch had her utmost attention and there was quite a few touches.

Hermione was also making discoveries, she had just discovered that she was sweating as drops of sweet salt ran down her face, her neck and her back to soak into her clothes. She discovered a true wonder for the fact that this heat hadn't started her on fire yet. Or maybe it had?

Harry must have decided he had had spent enough time with her breasts as he let his hands roam back down to her knees then back up her skirt to her burning womanhood. His fingers danced on the swollen lips and seemed to skim the entrance into Hermione. Then with an almost inhuman slowness Harry slowly dipped the very tip of his finger into the wet heat. Then even more slowly pulled it out again. Then again, maybe deeper into her core, maybe just inside the walls. Hermione felt for the first time something brush against her virginity. Just as slowly the intrusions backed off and became the dance of sensation on her lips and mound.

"Say 'Yes,' Hermione." Harry spoke. It wasn't a request, though it lacked any threat, maybe it didn't need any.

"Yes," breathed Hermione. She didn't know why, she did, or why she was told to but she did. Maybe this would be over, maybe it would continue. Hermione didn't know what would be the best out come anymore. The hands disappeared.

The sound of a zipper and the shuffle of cloth caused a shiver to run down Hermione's spine, she whimpered, not sure why she scared.

Her skirt was lifted, the cold air both soothing against her inflamed skin and sharp like swift strike. Hermione gasped.

Then there was something else touching her skin, smaller than one of the hands but larger than a finger, much larger. It was hot and very hard. but it was also very soft, like velvet stretched over steel.

Bad.
Good.
Oh God!

Harry slowly pushed his manhood into Hermione. Slowly moving, slowly stretching Hermione around him. Then out, then in again. Harry bumped up against her virginity,pressed into it. He pulled away from it.

"Tell me not to." Harry whispered into Hermione's ear, his voice rough and strained. "Tell me to stop and I will. Last chance."

Hermione whimpered and shifted her hips, before whimpering again.

"Last Chance is over."

Pain. There was pain.

There was also pressure and the feeling of being filled in some fundamental way. Harry had thrust right through her hymen and pushed all the way into Hermione's velvet sheath. He had also grabbed and covered her mouth, a necessary precaution as the moment Harry had bottomed out Hermione had started to scream and cry.

Her very muffled voice almost rang out into the library, the lack of reason as well as the shock.

The scream lasted seconds. Then it was quiet.

Nothing moved.

The now coupled pair were still.

Harry with his hand over Hermione's mouth slowly pulled out, just a fraction. He gently pushed forward. He continued the tiny thrusts, slowly growing longer but never faster.

Hermione slowly felt the pain fade. It had also allowed her to regain most of her rationality. She Remembered where they were. She remembered that there might be others in the library.

She remembered that she had just lost her virginity in a public library where there were other people.

She started to panic. Hermione started to shake, started to whimper into Harry's hand.

Harry ran his other hand through her now tangled hair and rubbed her back, and Hermione started to calm down. Once the shaking stopped and the small noise were quieted, Harry's intentions changed.

The soothing hand began a much more exciting technique. Harry began to fondle Hermione's breast and her arse. He squeezed and pinched and rubbed, bringing some of the wild heat back to Hermione. As the pain of virginity slowly faded Hermione's distress dulled.

Harry's gentle movements slowly grew faster. They lost the soft edge and became rougher. He slowly increased the speed, faster, faster.

Hermione's grip on reality loosened again as the pressure from her core grew, building up to heights that she was unfamiliar with. The world narrowed to the two bodies and the contact between them. Skin, heat, movement and nothing else.

The pressure grew, the movement became faster and the inferno that must be surrounding them raged.

Hermione moaned into Harry's hand as he rubbed a spot she liked, he rubbed harder.

Harry lost control and began to thrust wildly.

The pressure grew.

The pressure grew.

Harry buried his face into Hermione's knotted and sweat damped hair.

He growled and moaned onto the back of her neck.

The pressure let go.

There was nothing.

Hermione regained herself, pressed against the wall, sweaty, and very tired. Fluid was running down her thighs, her mouth was dry but she felt what was likely saliva on her chin. Harry's significantly less swollen manhood was still inside of her, but it only penetrated her lips and not much else.

Hermione learned that sex was very messy. Very much unlike the neat sex of the paperback novels she hid in her trunk. She was sore in places she had never felt before. She felt dirty, she was wearing wet clothes and she had no idea where her panties were.

She remembered. It was worse than no knowing.

Harry slowly pulled out of her and stepped back. Hermione turned around in time to see him draw his wand from a pocket of his robes. He waved it and muttered the familiar incantation to a cleaning charm.

Hermione felt her clothes dry, her skin felt clean and a bit of discomfort between her legs disappeared.

Harry looked into her eyes, searching, then as if he found an answer to an unasked question, he nodded. "Today, I forgave your thoughtlessness and only took a reward for spending the effort to find you. tomorrow we will be studying in the Common Room after lunch. If you're not there I will look for you, then I will punish you before taking my reward. I will see you tomorrow."

He did say anything else. Harry just walked away.

Hermione stood there for awhile. She had forgotten how to move her legs. When she managed she walked slowly, stiffly, to the front of the library, combing out her tangled hair as she went. Her missing panties caused more sensation than the the clothing ever did.

As she passed Madam Pince's desk, without a book, the librarian who was familiar with Hermione called out.

"No book today, girl?"

Hermione stopped, took a deep breath and slowly turned to face the librarian. "No, I didn't find it."

She turned and took a step forward.

She turned back to Madam Pince.

"I'll be back tomorrow to look for it."

Hermione walked out of the library.

If you are going to flame please don't be scared to log in, I might not bite and the doctor says I don't have rabies (I am also not a Vampire/Werewolf/Edric Horror, I don't know how that effects your desire to let me bite you.)