Viktor had never felt about a girl quite the way he felt about Hermione Granger.
There had been many women in his life before. That was part and parcel of being a Quidditch star. There were always witches waiting outside the locker rooms and recognizing him in pubs, eager to strike up a nightlong acquaintance. If they had been interested in Viktor primarily for his celebrity status he had been interested in them mainly for the momentary relief and company they offered.
Then he met Hermione.
She didn’t especially care about Quidditch or the fact that he was an internationally celebrated Seeker. What she seemed to like about him were qualities he had hardly been aware he had-- quiet thoughtfulness and intensity, kindness and strength. And as for him, he was fascinated by her intelligence, by her love and enthusiasm for learning, and by the fearlessness way she had embraced the Wizarding world.
He cared for her as he had never cared for a woman before and when she told him that she was ready, that she wanted to be with him, he wanted it to be special and in a special place.
Viktor had always been with women in places that reflected his prowess as a star athlete—on the deserted Quidditch pitch, astride the broomstick he had flown in this or that championship, under the bleachers of the stadium. He didn’t want to be with Hermione in any of those places. He wanted it to be somewhere that was important to her.
So that night he took her hand and led her to the empty library. It was locked, of course, but between them they got quite handily. Hermione laughed and ran through the stacks deep into the heart of the library where there were shelves upon shelves, dense as trees in a forest and she told him what the different sections of books were about, which one’s she’s read, which one’s she wanted to read. He thought she was so adorable, so alive and in her element he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her but finally she stopped and standing on tiptoes she kissed him, pressing against him, as enthusiastic for the experience of being with him as she was for the knowledge in the books.
He was so much taller than her but he lifted her up set her down on an empty shelf so their hips were level. She wrapped her legs tight around him as they kissed, her bright tongue dancing against his slow, steady rhythm. The skirt of her uniform was up over her thighs, he pressed the palm of his hand between her legs, against the white cotton of her panties. She moaned. He had expected her to keep talk, she had been chattering happily about the research she had done into protective charms and contraceptive potions but when he touched her there words abandoned her and she rubbed herself against his hand, kissing him with a ferocity that took his breath away all the while undoing his belt. In a moment his cock was in her hand, so red and eager and tender he blushed. She rubbed him against her, panties around her ankles now the head of his cock against her clit, the shaft of his penis flush to the lips of her. She rolled her hips up and his cock was poised, pressed to her opening, ready to enter.
“May I?” He asked.
“Please,” she whispered and he began to push inside her, slowly, careful not to hurt her. Her body yielded, opened to him the passage embracing him as tightly as the girl till he was sunk in her to the hilt and there was no way of knowing where he ended and she began. “Oh,” she whispered eyes wide. “Oh…” Then gingerly at first, tentatively they began to move together. She pressed against the book shelves, her heels against his buttocks, spurring him on to go faster, thrust harder. Her muscles tightened, she trembled in his arms, undulating around him till his urgency mounted and he came inside her.
Even after that she still held him tight, arms about his neck, legs around his hips, keeping him inside her, nuzzling his dark hair with her little face. He had never stayed with a woman like this before, quiet and satiated and he felt as though it had been the first time for him as well as for her.