wanking_mods (wanking_mods) wrote in hp_wankfest, @ 2008-05-21 12:00:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2008 fic |
Hermione Granger in the Hogwarts Library with Parchment
Title: Taking Time Off.
Author: plotbunniofdoom
Character: Hermione Granger
Location: Hogwarts Library
Object: Parchment
Other Characters: Percy Weasley
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Voyeurism
Word Count: 932
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money being made
Author's Notes: Thank you for the beta a. :-)
Taking Time Off.
Hermione sat at one of the large tables in Hogwarts' library, hoping it would stay as quiet as it was right now. The place was deserted; not even Madam Pince was there.
Things had been so manic in the last couple of months that she hadn’t had a second to herself. It was something of a relief to be alone in the silent library with only a book for company.
It’s ok, the place is deserted. It’s been so long.
Hermione turned the pages of her book slowly, one hand resting on her knee. She sat so close to the desk, leaning over her book, that her stomach was nearly pressed against the thick solid wood of the table top.
She caressed the soft skin on the inside of her leg, her finger running in slow circles. Her hand ran further up her leg, pushing the corduroy skirt up till her fingers were describing the same slow, lazy circles on her inner thigh.
Hermione looked around her.
Just a little touch.
All her time in the last two months had been taken up with the rebuilding.
Just a little touch.
Now that the library was back to normal it was the prefect place to get away
Just a little touch, through the white lace of her knickers.
from everyone – no one was thinking of studying.
Push them to one side now. Been so long. Just a little touch.
All everyone else seemed to want to do with their free time was get drunk or have sex.
Just a little touch. All wet and slick now.
Even Ron and Harry seemed happy without her, even if they would never admit it.
Just a little touch.
“Taking time off?”
Hermione’s fingers froze at the sound of Percy’s voice and she looked up from her book.
Percy stood across the table from her – managing to look smart, even in the chaos that was Hogwarts at the moment. He pushed his glasses up his nose with one hand and smiled across at her.
Surely all he saw was the table and the book. He couldn’t see . . . could he?
“Er . . . yes. Yes I’m taking a break.” Hermione said, finally remembering to answer his question. She felt her cheeks flush and looked down at her book.
“I said I was writing a letter but mostly I just wanted somewhere quiet to sit,” Percy said, putting some parchment and a quill down on the table.
“I should be studying for my NEWTs,” she found herself mumbling.
I must look so red in the face.
“So what are you doing?” he said, with a glint in his eye.
He knows.
Hermione licked her lips nervously as he stood across the table from her. Percy looked down, as if he could see through the table to where her hand lay. He caught her eye and licked his own lips. Hermione lifted her free hand to turn the page of the book open in front of her.
Pretend to read.
Percy sat down in the seat directly opposite and took up his quill.
Hermione attempted to slowly remove her other hand but instead gave a little jolt as her fingers moved.
Percy started writing, his quill scratching away on the crisp parchment. Hermione looked at his hands, unable to meet his eye. One hand wrote and the other held the parchment still.
“I know,” said Percy. He took out his wand and cast a light sticking charm on the parchment, holding it to the table.
Hermione concentrated on the scratching of the quill on parchment, trying to resist moving her hand – trying to resist the pulse of heat under her fingertips.
But she couldn’t ignore Percy. She watched his hand move. Watched those ink stained fingers write and imagined them touching her.
Hermione gave an involuntary little jolt and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Percy’s hand was no longer on the table – it was under it. She gave another little gasp as Percy’s hand moved. Her view was partly obscured by the table top, but he was obviously undoing his trousers.
Hermione turned a page of the book - the page swimming in front of her eyes - and Percy put down his pen.
“What are you reading about?”
“I . . . er,” she mumbled, flustered.
“Hermione?”
She looked up. Percy was flushed in the cheeks, his lips slightly parted. The neck of his white shirt was unbuttoned to reveal the creamy white freckled skin of his collar bones. His arm was moving, touching himself. Stroking, fondling . . .
Hermione gave a low moan and felt the pulse of heat insistently under her fingers. She twitched them quickly in slight, small movements on that hard nub, feeling herself slick under her eager fingers.
Percy was staring at her now, his arm moving quicker and their eyes locked.
It felt forbidden – the person, the place – and yet so right, so needed.
Hermione felt the tingling warmth spread to the depths of her belly and her legs stretched out – her toes curling.
Percy’s blue eyes sparkled and his feet nudged hers under the table.
“Hermione,” he growled, clutching at the parchment convulsively with his free hand.
She had never heard her name spoken with such lust and need.
Hermione cried out as she came, the fingers of her free hand grasping at the edge of the table, her head thrown back. Lost in the waves crashing over her.
As she came back to herself and the world came back into focus she saw that Percy had stood up.
“See you tomorrow?”
Hermione couldn’t answer, she could only nod.