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Chapter 4
Hermione felt the haze in her head begin to clear, and her senses slowly sharpen. It was the smell that penetrated the fog first, and she focused on the familiar scents of old leather, parchment and ink, the tang of lemon polish and sun warmed wood underlying the dusty smell that old books retained. Eyes fluttering open, she realized that she had, once again, fallen asleep at her table in the Hogwarts Library. Lifting her head, she took in the high shelves of the Restricted Section. She was in the back corner where she often worked, almost surrounded on all sides by books, the perfect hidden nook where she could not be disturbed as she studied or wrote.
She thrust her hands over and behind her head in a stretch, stifling a groan as the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders moved for the first time in hours. It wouldn’t do for Madame Pince to kick her out for a bit of noise when she was busy working. Or, to catch her snoozing in the stacks- she’d be kicked out of the Restricted Section for sure!
She could hear the usual sounds of students working around her, papers shuffling, chairs creaking, the occasional loud yawn. It was yet another reason she liked this spot so much, she could hear others and sense that she was not alone, but was hidden away so that she couldn’t be bothered by them asking her for help when she needed to just get her own things done.
Ready to resume reading, Hermione grabbed a well- worn leather tome from the stack in front of her on the table, relishing the feel of the smooth cover and the comforting weight of the thing. She gasped as she read the spine, almost dropping the book on that table. The Kama Sutra? Why on earth was there a copy of that on her desk? And why would Hogwarts, even in the Restricted Section, have a copy of such an inflammatory book where hormone crazed teenagers could get at it? It must have been a joke that Ron or Dean or Seamus had played on her, letting her know that they had discovered her spot and reminding her, again, that her self imposed code of no dating, only studying, was not alright with them. Hermione firmly pushed the book aside and reached for another one in her stack.
Opening it to the cover page, she groaned. The Joys of Sex. Looking at all of the spines turned her way, she could see similar titles, some even with little illustrations underneath them! Great, the menaces had replaced all of her books and she would never get her work done! She noticed that one of the books in the lower half of the stack seemed to be glowing. After the incident with Hagrid’s biting text, she knew she shouldn’t touch a book that acted oddly, but it was too intriguing. Against her better judgment, Hermione lifted the pile of sexual manuals and how-to books off of the now incandescent book. Its cover glowed like the moon, an opal color that shimmered with magic, and pulled Hermione to it with an undeniable force. She opened the book, unable to resist any longer.
Slowly she turned the pages, utterly absorbed in the illustrations that dominated each page. Men and women engaged in a myriad of sensual situations, from the relative innocence of a couple waltzing on the dance floor of a bygone ballroom, to flagrant and detailed drawings of couples in the throes, writhing and moving as only magical pictures could. Blushing, but unable to turn away, Hermione soldiered on, growing more and more flustered with each page that she turned. Tilting her head in confusion at some of the positions she saw on the pages, feeling heat pool in her belly at an engraving of a man lavishing pleasure on a woman with his mouth, she barely realized that someone had breached her secret sanctum.
She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder, blushing even more furiously when she noticed whose it was. Fred Weasley grinned down at her, took in the red of her face, the wideness of her eyes and her general flustered appearance and a look of concern flashed across his face, only to be replaced with an utterly evil smirk when he glanced at the picture she had been studying.
“So there is a reason this is called the Restricted Section. I’d always wondered, but my reputation forbade me from actually exploring for myself. Not even the legendary Weasley charm could convince McGonagall to write George and I a pass.” Fred leaned a little closer, examining the moving picture, taking in the flush on the woman’s face, as her partner brought her to orgasm, and hauled her upright, pushing her against what looked surprisingly like a bookshelf.
Hermione let out a garbled sound, halfway between a protest and a moan, and buried her face in her hands in mortification. Of all the people to find her hiding spot and when she was reading that? Wait, why was Fred even in the Library? He had left Hogwarts the year before after the truly remarkable routing of that vile Umbridge woman.
A second large, warm hand came down on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Fred slid his hands up and down her upper arms in a brisk manner that was in fact the opposite of comforting as Hermione could feel his warm breath tickle her ear.
“If you were curious, all you had to do was ask love,” he breathed into her ear. “Why look something up in a book when you have the real thing?” The hands moving on her arms slowed into what could only be called a caress, so that she could feel the heat of his palms and the strength of his fingers through the thick wool of her uniform’s sweater and buttoned up shirt underneath. Spine stiffening Hermione turned her head to ask what he thought he was doing and felt a pair of firm lips against her own generous mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as Fred pulled her chair around to face him, knelt in front of her and gave her lips his full attention.
She tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders as he pressed butterfly light kisses on her. She could feel him smile as he found the corner of her wide mouth, settling there for a moment. His tongue tickled the sensitive spot then traced the seam of her lips delicately probing until she surrendered and opened to him.
His hands found the silky smooth skin of her legs, caressing the small expanse he found between the top of her knee socks and the hem of her pleated skirt. Hermione felt tingles run up and down her spine as both his kiss and hands grew bolder. He slanted his mouth over hers, lips firming with intent and she felt herself melt as she acquiesced to his demands. His daring fingers quested beneath the edge of her skirt, the calluses on his Quidditch roughened hands exciting her beyond reason. She let out a sigh of pleasure and his exploration of her mouth intensified. He growled possessively, drinking in her sweetness, plundering her secret corners and undiscovered depths. Their tongues tangled and she slid her hands into his hair, tumbling the thick locks in her eagerness to touch him, effect him like he was entrancing her.
This time he groaned, and used his hands to part her thighs so that he could move between them and bring their bodies together. Hermione gasped at the sudden press of his hard chest against hers, the strange but oh so thrilling contrast between hard and soft, male and female, and gave herself up to their embrace, melting in feminine submission against the firm wall of his muscles. She felt his body react to that, his muscles seized and he released the predator he had been holding in check. Hands under her skirt tightened possessively around her hips, and her roughly pulled her to the edge of her chair, crushing her to him.
Hermione felt her head fall back, offering her neck to his ministrations and he gladly complied, lips cruising over the delicate skin under her jaw, nipping then soothing the sensitive area. His tongue traced the whorl of her ear and he pressed a scalding kiss to the pressure point right behind it, causing a shock of sensation that went straight to her belly. His hands found the waistband of her panties, delved beneath them so that his hands were filled with her sweet skin, the roundness of her hips a perfect match for his wide grip. She felt an ache deep within her and shifted restlessly against him, trying to soothe the clamoring inside. Sensing her need, Fred urged her up out of the chair, separating them only a moment so that he could sweep the piles of books and parchment off of the table.
Hermione gasped at his actions, reeling senses just barely recognizing that he was destroying school property in his haste. She opened her mouth to reprimand him but he placed a single, long finger against her lips.
“Shh, this is the library and students are studying. You can’t make a sound- wouldn’t want to disturb them with lectures, reprimands, or, … moans.”
Hermione shuddered, sheer desire swamping her, overwhelming her pique. He swept her into his arms and placed her on the now clear desk, stepping between her spread knees to return his mouth to hers, stifling any sounds she might have made. He drew back, gently and looked directly into her eyes, hazed a misty golden color in her passion.
“Now, about that book you were studying. You know there’s no better way to learn something than to practice.” Not waiting for a response, Fred’s questing fingers skimmed back underneath her skirt caressing her silky thighs, swirling in small circles as he made his way, inch by torturous inch, to her center. He slid his fingers up and down along the damp heat he could feel through her knickers, adding pressure to satisfy her unintelligible gasps of need.
He returned his mouth to hers, whispering before he made contact, “Is this the only way I can keep you quiet? So much more fun than a Silencio.” His tongue and his fingers swirled in the same, perfect, insistent rhythm, leaving Hermione whimpering at the onslaught of sensation. Her hips began to buck involuntarily against Fred’s hand, and he took that as permission to flip her skirt up and divest her of her undergarments, quickly bringing his finger back to her and sliding it into her slick folds. She moaned at the delicious intrusion, rocking against his hand, begging for more.
“Now, which lesson shall we attempt today? I’m partial to the scenario that has me throwing you up against the bookshelf, or maybe just bending you over this table you seem to love so much. I don’t know of any red blooded Hogwarts male who hasn’t seen you studying here and wanted to just grab you and make you look at him with the same intensity as you do your books. Just like you’re looking at me... now!”
With that word, Hermione’s world exploded, and only the lightning fast reflexes of the ex-Gryffindor Beater kept her from shouting his name in the middle of the Restricted Section, as he clamped his other hand over her mouth just in time. She slumped against his solid chest, head on his shoulders as she attempted to find her way back to earth.
But Fred wasn’t finished with her. Hauling her up against him, she struggled to keep her legs beneath her as he resumed his skilled assault against her lips. Arms locked around his neck, she pulled herself flush against him, body to body. She could feel the hot, insistent length of him pressing into her. Feeling deliciously wanton, and suffused with a boldness only a well pleasured woman can command, she ground her hips against his, relishing in the shudder she felt go through him. He grabbed her waist, then lower, molding her against his hardness.
With a groan, he wrenched himself away, leaving her feeling utterly bereft and confused. Head swimming with both desire and bewilderment, she opened her eyes and mouth to ask what he was doing. She was rewarded with the sight of Fred fumbling with the fly of his trousers, belt already undone.
Before she could comment, he freed himself, and returned to her. He backed them up until she could feel the ridged spines of the shelved books digging into her back. Fred captured both of her wrists above her head, and brought one hand back down to her hem. Hermione widened her stance, the pictures from that magical book burned into her brain, telling her what to do. In what seemed like one motion, he flipped her skirt up and pressed his erection against her belly. Coating a finger with her wetness he primed himself to enter her, nudging himself against her opening. Hermione twisted against the iron grasp of his hand, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him as he teased her swollen folds, denying her the sweet friction she craved.
Lips hovering just a fraction away from hers, she felt more than heard him growl, “Tell me what you want.”
Whimpering, she managed to gasp out, “You!” and was rewarded as he thrust into her, bringing their bodies together. As he pounded into her, he covered her mouth with his own, stifling both her cries and his, the need to remain quiet driving them crazy. The intensity of their passion burned bright and Hermione could feel herself coming closer and closer to the edge. With one impossibly deep thrust she felt herself clamp around him, letting go with a strangled cry. Fred spent himself inside of her, groaning against the soft skin of her neck, muting the sound of his completion.
The sated couple slowly sank down to the floor, and let their bliss suffuse them.
Chapter 4
Hermione felt the haze in her head begin to clear, and her senses slowly sharpen. It was the smell that penetrated the fog first, and she focused on the familiar scents of old leather, parchment and ink, the tang of lemon polish and sun warmed wood underlying the dusty smell that old books retained. Eyes fluttering open, she realized that she had, once again, fallen asleep at her table in the Hogwarts Library. Lifting her head, she took in the high shelves of the Restricted Section. She was in the back corner where she often worked, almost surrounded on all sides by books, the perfect hidden nook where she could not be disturbed as she studied or wrote.
She thrust her hands over and behind her head in a stretch, stifling a groan as the stiff muscles in her neck and shoulders moved for the first time in hours. It wouldn’t do for Madame Pince to kick her out for a bit of noise when she was busy working. Or, to catch her snoozing in the stacks- she’d be kicked out of the Restricted Section for sure!
She could hear the usual sounds of students working around her, papers shuffling, chairs creaking, the occasional loud yawn. It was yet another reason she liked this spot so much, she could hear others and sense that she was not alone, but was hidden away so that she couldn’t be bothered by them asking her for help when she needed to just get her own things done.
Ready to resume reading, Hermione grabbed a well- worn leather tome from the stack in front of her on the table, relishing the feel of the smooth cover and the comforting weight of the thing. She gasped as she read the spine, almost dropping the book on that table. The Kama Sutra? Why on earth was there a copy of that on her desk? And why would Hogwarts, even in the Restricted Section, have a copy of such an inflammatory book where hormone crazed teenagers could get at it? It must have been a joke that Ron or Dean or Seamus had played on her, letting her know that they had discovered her spot and reminding her, again, that her self imposed code of no dating, only studying, was not alright with them. Hermione firmly pushed the book aside and reached for another one in her stack.
Opening it to the cover page, she groaned. The Joys of Sex. Looking at all of the spines turned her way, she could see similar titles, some even with little illustrations underneath them! Great, the menaces had replaced all of her books and she would never get her work done! She noticed that one of the books in the lower half of the stack seemed to be glowing. After the incident with Hagrid’s biting text, she knew she shouldn’t touch a book that acted oddly, but it was too intriguing. Against her better judgment, Hermione lifted the pile of sexual manuals and how-to books off of the now incandescent book. Its cover glowed like the moon, an opal color that shimmered with magic, and pulled Hermione to it with an undeniable force. She opened the book, unable to resist any longer.
Slowly she turned the pages, utterly absorbed in the illustrations that dominated each page. Men and women engaged in a myriad of sensual situations, from the relative innocence of a couple waltzing on the dance floor of a bygone ballroom, to flagrant and detailed drawings of couples in the throes, writhing and moving as only magical pictures could. Blushing, but unable to turn away, Hermione soldiered on, growing more and more flustered with each page that she turned. Tilting her head in confusion at some of the positions she saw on the pages, feeling heat pool in her belly at an engraving of a man lavishing pleasure on a woman with his mouth, she barely realized that someone had breached her secret sanctum.
She started when she felt a hand on her shoulder, blushing even more furiously when she noticed whose it was. Fred Weasley grinned down at her, took in the red of her face, the wideness of her eyes and her general flustered appearance and a look of concern flashed across his face, only to be replaced with an utterly evil smirk when he glanced at the picture she had been studying.
“So there is a reason this is called the Restricted Section. I’d always wondered, but my reputation forbade me from actually exploring for myself. Not even the legendary Weasley charm could convince McGonagall to write George and I a pass.” Fred leaned a little closer, examining the moving picture, taking in the flush on the woman’s face, as her partner brought her to orgasm, and hauled her upright, pushing her against what looked surprisingly like a bookshelf.
Hermione let out a garbled sound, halfway between a protest and a moan, and buried her face in her hands in mortification. Of all the people to find her hiding spot and when she was reading that? Wait, why was Fred even in the Library? He had left Hogwarts the year before after the truly remarkable routing of that vile Umbridge woman.
A second large, warm hand came down on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Fred slid his hands up and down her upper arms in a brisk manner that was in fact the opposite of comforting as Hermione could feel his warm breath tickle her ear.
“If you were curious, all you had to do was ask love,” he breathed into her ear. “Why look something up in a book when you have the real thing?” The hands moving on her arms slowed into what could only be called a caress, so that she could feel the heat of his palms and the strength of his fingers through the thick wool of her uniform’s sweater and buttoned up shirt underneath. Spine stiffening Hermione turned her head to ask what he thought he was doing and felt a pair of firm lips against her own generous mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as Fred pulled her chair around to face him, knelt in front of her and gave her lips his full attention.
She tentatively placed her hands on his shoulders as he pressed butterfly light kisses on her. She could feel him smile as he found the corner of her wide mouth, settling there for a moment. His tongue tickled the sensitive spot then traced the seam of her lips delicately probing until she surrendered and opened to him.
His hands found the silky smooth skin of her legs, caressing the small expanse he found between the top of her knee socks and the hem of her pleated skirt. Hermione felt tingles run up and down her spine as both his kiss and hands grew bolder. He slanted his mouth over hers, lips firming with intent and she felt herself melt as she acquiesced to his demands. His daring fingers quested beneath the edge of her skirt, the calluses on his Quidditch roughened hands exciting her beyond reason. She let out a sigh of pleasure and his exploration of her mouth intensified. He growled possessively, drinking in her sweetness, plundering her secret corners and undiscovered depths. Their tongues tangled and she slid her hands into his hair, tumbling the thick locks in her eagerness to touch him, effect him like he was entrancing her.
This time he groaned, and used his hands to part her thighs so that he could move between them and bring their bodies together. Hermione gasped at the sudden press of his hard chest against hers, the strange but oh so thrilling contrast between hard and soft, male and female, and gave herself up to their embrace, melting in feminine submission against the firm wall of his muscles. She felt his body react to that, his muscles seized and he released the predator he had been holding in check. Hands under her skirt tightened possessively around her hips, and her roughly pulled her to the edge of her chair, crushing her to him.
Hermione felt her head fall back, offering her neck to his ministrations and he gladly complied, lips cruising over the delicate skin under her jaw, nipping then soothing the sensitive area. His tongue traced the whorl of her ear and he pressed a scalding kiss to the pressure point right behind it, causing a shock of sensation that went straight to her belly. His hands found the waistband of her panties, delved beneath them so that his hands were filled with her sweet skin, the roundness of her hips a perfect match for his wide grip. She felt an ache deep within her and shifted restlessly against him, trying to soothe the clamoring inside. Sensing her need, Fred urged her up out of the chair, separating them only a moment so that he could sweep the piles of books and parchment off of the table.
Hermione gasped at his actions, reeling senses just barely recognizing that he was destroying school property in his haste. She opened her mouth to reprimand him but he placed a single, long finger against her lips.
“Shh, this is the library and students are studying. You can’t make a sound- wouldn’t want to disturb them with lectures, reprimands, or, … moans.”
Hermione shuddered, sheer desire swamping her, overwhelming her pique. He swept her into his arms and placed her on the now clear desk, stepping between her spread knees to return his mouth to hers, stifling any sounds she might have made. He drew back, gently and looked directly into her eyes, hazed a misty golden color in her passion.
“Now, about that book you were studying. You know there’s no better way to learn something than to practice.” Not waiting for a response, Fred’s questing fingers skimmed back underneath her skirt caressing her silky thighs, swirling in small circles as he made his way, inch by torturous inch, to her center. He slid his fingers up and down along the damp heat he could feel through her knickers, adding pressure to satisfy her unintelligible gasps of need.
He returned his mouth to hers, whispering before he made contact, “Is this the only way I can keep you quiet? So much more fun than a Silencio.” His tongue and his fingers swirled in the same, perfect, insistent rhythm, leaving Hermione whimpering at the onslaught of sensation. Her hips began to buck involuntarily against Fred’s hand, and he took that as permission to flip her skirt up and divest her of her undergarments, quickly bringing his finger back to her and sliding it into her slick folds. She moaned at the delicious intrusion, rocking against his hand, begging for more.
“Now, which lesson shall we attempt today? I’m partial to the scenario that has me throwing you up against the bookshelf, or maybe just bending you over this table you seem to love so much. I don’t know of any red blooded Hogwarts male who hasn’t seen you studying here and wanted to just grab you and make you look at him with the same intensity as you do your books. Just like you’re looking at me... now!”
With that word, Hermione’s world exploded, and only the lightning fast reflexes of the ex-Gryffindor Beater kept her from shouting his name in the middle of the Restricted Section, as he clamped his other hand over her mouth just in time. She slumped against his solid chest, head on his shoulders as she attempted to find her way back to earth.
But Fred wasn’t finished with her. Hauling her up against him, she struggled to keep her legs beneath her as he resumed his skilled assault against her lips. Arms locked around his neck, she pulled herself flush against him, body to body. She could feel the hot, insistent length of him pressing into her. Feeling deliciously wanton, and suffused with a boldness only a well pleasured woman can command, she ground her hips against his, relishing in the shudder she felt go through him. He grabbed her waist, then lower, molding her against his hardness.
With a groan, he wrenched himself away, leaving her feeling utterly bereft and confused. Head swimming with both desire and bewilderment, she opened her eyes and mouth to ask what he was doing. She was rewarded with the sight of Fred fumbling with the fly of his trousers, belt already undone.
Before she could comment, he freed himself, and returned to her. He backed them up until she could feel the ridged spines of the shelved books digging into her back. Fred captured both of her wrists above her head, and brought one hand back down to her hem. Hermione widened her stance, the pictures from that magical book burned into her brain, telling her what to do. In what seemed like one motion, he flipped her skirt up and pressed his erection against her belly. Coating a finger with her wetness he primed himself to enter her, nudging himself against her opening. Hermione twisted against the iron grasp of his hand, desperate to touch him, desperate to feel him as he teased her swollen folds, denying her the sweet friction she craved.
Lips hovering just a fraction away from hers, she felt more than heard him growl, “Tell me what you want.”
Whimpering, she managed to gasp out, “You!” and was rewarded as he thrust into her, bringing their bodies together. As he pounded into her, he covered her mouth with his own, stifling both her cries and his, the need to remain quiet driving them crazy. The intensity of their passion burned bright and Hermione could feel herself coming closer and closer to the edge. With one impossibly deep thrust she felt herself clamp around him, letting go with a strangled cry. Fred spent himself inside of her, groaning against the soft skin of her neck, muting the sound of his completion.
The sated couple slowly sank down to the floor, and let their bliss suffuse them.