Midday Lovers

Chapter One

"I'm a circle with a tree. But my branches aren't sharp angles, they're wavy like the ocean," Harry stated with a satisfied smile, slumping back in his chair and looking over the table at his two best friends

"I'm…" Ron chewed on the end of his quill thoughtfully before getting a rare enlightened look upon his face "I'm a sand dune with varying dips and rises," he announced proudly.

The two looked to Hermione who was scowling, hunched over her piece of paper muttering darkly to herself. Ron nudged her none too gently and pulled the piece of paper from out of her grasp.

"So?" Harry asked expectantly "What is she?"

"She's…" but before Ron could get it out Hermione had punched him in the gut making him double over under the divination table. Harry stared down at his best mate before turning his gaze to the crazy it's-the-wrong-time-of-the-month-to-be-messing-with-me-girl who was currently stuffing her Time Chart down her robes.

"Aw, come on Hermione, it can't be that bad," He cajoled, after all it was just a chart that showed how your time flowed – whether it be in a straight line or with branches or sometimes even manifesting itself into something else. Ron pulled himself back up onto the overstuffed pink armchair

"I'm a circle," she muttered looking at the doily as if her gaze alone could make it disappear. "Hey, that's ok Hermione, a circle is good and simple too. You will get that paper written in no time."

Harry frowned not quite trusting the expression that flitted across her face when Ron was speaking.

"She's lying," he stated finally.

"Am not," Hermione cried indignantly.

"Yes you are. Now fess up, how does your time flow?"

"I told you, I'm a circle. Now leave me ALONE!" she cried before storming out of the room in a huff. Professor Trelawney was too preoccupied with someone else's chart to notice the irate Gryffindor's departure.

She stomped down the hall and took several sharp rights before disappearing behind a tapestry so dirty nobody knew what great tale it was supposed to depict. Behind said tapestry the Head Girl took a narrow hidden staircase up several flights, before coming out in a secret room no more than seven foot in length and width, just enough room to fit the single piece of furniture in it - a huge mahogany cloth draped four poster bed.

She threw her book bag at the foot of the bed, removed her robes, and flopped onto the mattress that sunk slightly, hugging her into its comfortable folds. Gazing at the ceiling she huffed in annoyance and it had nothing to do with stupid Trelawney and her stupid Time Flow Charts - as if they meant anything in the real world.

In fact that class had been wasting her time since she had arrived at Hogwarts just over six years ago, time she could have spent with him. She knew he would come looking for her soon, she also knew that he had seen her glares being sent his way over Ronald's shoulder. Of course the idiot Ron had gotten right in the way of her view of him.

She was planning a fitting punishment for the insufferable man who had her knickers in knot more often than not. How dare he feel up another girls skirt in the middle of a class when he knew full well she could see what he did to Lavender Brown, and the insufferable git had done that one thing, that thing that had never failed to make her melt and send shivers down her spine. He had done that one thing to Miss I'm-a-tart Brown while looking her right in the eye the whole time – oh, and then he had the balls to smirk. Oh, he was going to get it good when he arrived.

She lay there watching the shaft of light from the slit window make a trail through the dust particles in the warm room. The light had moved no more than 5 inches across the wall when she heard those all too familiar footfalls on the stairs coming up to her, just as she knew he would.

Raising herself on her elbows she watched as he opened the door with a sheepish look on his face, this made her scowl more

"Listen, baby …" he started but stopped his apology speech when he noticed his lover raise herself to her knees whilst slowly tugging at her tie. She gave a small knowing smile, which tugged at his groin much like she was now doing to the buttons of her shirt, revealing her bra - which happened to be a shocking shade of vivid orange. The girl had a thing for odd colours, but only one who had seen her extensive collection of lingerie would know that.

He was pulled from his thoughts, as she revealed more and more of her smooth flat stomach, the colour of fresh cream. He began to breathe heavily in anticipation, wanting to touch her so badly - needing to remember the feel of that warm silken flesh. He began to completely forgetting about deliberately goading a reaction from her during Divination.

He went to step forward, but was blocked as if by a wall. Another step forward and he was still no closer the bed, and more importantly its occupant. Her musical laughter filled the room at his pathetic attempts to get closer to her and she shook her head. The invisible barrier was a piece of magic he had yet to learn, but of course the too-intelligent-for-her-own-good Head Girl would know a piece of sorcery like that, and she would have learnt it for just a moment like this.

He growled softly in the back of his throat thoroughly frustrated at being denied what he needed most and she laughed again before slowly shrugging the shirt from her shoulders then throwing it at him through the barrier. He caught and bought it to his face, it still held her body heat and a smell uniquely of her, he deliberately inhaled deeply, making sure she saw the action, before turning back to stare at the show.

He was getting hard and he began to wonder how long she could go on torturing him.

Moving her hand slowly down her body - much like he did every time he caught her alone in a corridor, or when they were lying on the bed, or if they sat together in class, or even in a random broom cupboard on a Tuesday afternoon - she arched her back into the touch, thrusting her still covered breast, the peaks making indents in the lacy fabric.

Moving her hand lower she fingered the hem or her skirt before slowly bunching it in her hands and lifting it up before letting go of it. The fabric fell back to her thighs and he let out a groan. Grinning evilly she began the process again, this time lifting the skirt higher to reveal the tops of her flesh coloured stocking's that stopped mid thigh with an intricate lace border that his fingers itched to trace.

She dropped the skirt again and he moved his gaze to her face, glaring his displeasure. The minx just smiled and laughed before undoing the side clasp, which released the skirt from her hips, allowing it to pool around her legs. His breath hitched before his lungs gave in to panting.

She wasn't wearing any underwear.

She climbed of the bed and swayed toward him, holding one of the bedposts for support, as if weak with desire. He knew better, the girl had more stamina than he did and would no doubt demand hours of satisfaction for his little show in class with Lavender. After all, the elbow she had aimed at Weasley was quite obviously meant for him.

"Let me in," he demanded, leveling her with a gaze that spoke of his deep longing. The little minx shook her wild mane and moved her hands around to unclasp her bra to reveal two perfect mounds, topped off with nipples the size and colour of summer berries. Oh how he wished he could taste those delectable little fruits, if she would just let him near her.

"Let me in," he repeated. She shook her head and rubbed herself like a cat in heat against the bed post, eyes closed in ecstasy, a small moan escaping her full, moist pink lips.

Tormenting him was so much fun, but she could tell he was starting to get desperate. Letting go of the bedpost Hermione stepped forward until she was barely an inch from him. Little did he know that the moment she breached the invisible barrier it would disappear. She felt the faint shimmer of magic as she stepped through it, shivering at the sensation before grabbing his tie forcefully and pulling his head down to hers.

They both groaned at the first contact of lips, and before long they had fallen back onto the bed, the mattress groaning under their combined weight. Without breaking contact, he began to strip of his clothes in a frenzied need to feel skin against skin. She fumbled with his belt, then fly, before finally releasing his painfully engorged member. Taking it in her hand and giving it a meaningful squeeze she pulled her mouth from his and swirled her tongue around his ear.

"You're an arse, you know that?" She whispered harshly, giving him yet another squeezed. He winced and his heavy panting hitched, "Just because nobody knows about us, doesn't mean you're not mine."

He whimpered as the pressure of her hand increased and nodded his head. She loosened her grip and stroked up his length with feather-light strokes. By now they were both covered with a fine sheen of sweat, "Good," she cooed licking his ear again making him shiver, "Then you won't mind making it up to me"

He had known this was coming, he'd seen how pissed she was. But an angry Hermione was such a turn on that he hadn't been able to help himself. Lifting up onto his elbows he began nibbling at her lips before running his tongue along the swollen bottom one, asking for entrance. She gave a token resistance, pulling back a fraction of an inch, but his hand on the back of her neck bought her straight back to him.

She moaned in the back of her throat as he rolled them so that she was resting flush against his chest, he could feel her nipples against his own chest and moved his hand to brush the sides of her breasts. The low whimper this caused made him all the more eager to be inside her. He ran his hand down the curve of her back and traced the indent of her delectably round bottom, moving down her thighs to finger the lacy edge of her stocking before moving back up and dipping his fingers into her womanhood, finding her impossibly wet. All the while he kissed her with every ounce of passion he possessed.

She felt his shaft buck against her inner thigh as she spread her legs to straddle him, allowing him better access to her inner folds. Tossing her hair back, she arched her spine and almost purred at the sensations his wonderfully skilled hands evoked. The man knew what made her hot, and he employed every one of his skills until she was almost begging him to take her.

Then he did that one thing, that one thing that always made her melt and shiver. He always knew where that one spot on her neck was that could cause make her cry out his name. He finally lifted her enough so that he could slide inside her and they both gasped, she was so tight and hot and wet and so very his.

"Mine," he growled in her ear as he began his long, slow strokes - refusing to go faster even when she practically screamed for him to do so. He felt her inner muscles begin to tighten painfully and knew she was close, so he lifted his head and took one ripe berry into his mouth before giving one hard suck, causing her to cry out and her inner walls to contract painfully in release.

Well, this proved all too much for him and he was soon crying out her name spilling his seed inside of her. Hermione collapsed on top of him, her hair spread across his fair chest. He wrapped strong arms around her as their breathing slowed down and they floated back down to earth.

"Hermione?" he said softly, kissing her forehead.

"Hmm?" she hummed lazily.

"I love you," he told her softly.

"I know," she smiled against his chest, her eyes drifting closed.

"Draco?" she asked a few moments later.

"Yes?"

"I love you too. But please, stay away from Lavender," he chuckled and watched her as she opened her eyes and slipped out his arms, started to gather her clothes from the floor.

"Oh yeah, and what's stopping me from doing anything with Lavender, if I wanted to?" he asked, watching her button her shirt, hiding her orange bra from his wandering gaze.

She didn't answer him as she got dressed, pulling on her skirt, then shoes, before picking up her robe. A piece of paper fell from its folds and she paused to pick it up.

The evil grin returned and she threw it at him before pulling the robe over head.

"That may do it," she watched him pale at what was supposed to be her Time Flow Chart, but was instead a detailed description of his and Lavenders demise should anything ever happen between them.

"Oh," was all he could say when he finished.

"Catch you later Malfoy, you still haven't made it up to yet," she called, slinging her heavy book bag over her shoulder and rushing out of their private room.

Draco groaned and flopped back on the rumpled bed. No, he had a feeling he would be making it up to her for a long time.

He found himself taking on the evil grin – oh, but that girl had him whipped, and he didn't mind one bit.

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