So yielding to her and her alone.

He smiled wolfishly, and she felt him there at her center, and she was truly, truly grateful for the shelf’s sturdiness charms.

__

“And if I’m not allowed to say another man’s name while you’re inside me, to hell with you being able to.”

She loved it when his lips parted like that. She could catch his bottom lip so well, and he just looked so pretty.

“I need you, Draco,” she whined, into his breath as it breathed across her cheeks. “All of you.”

He nodded, his hair tickling her temple. His fingers fumbled.
She brushed it off his forehead, and then tightened her grip, forcing his eyes to her.

“Gonna get you there,” he said at last. “So close. I feel you, you're so close.”

She nodded because she was. But— she pressed against him. “I need you.”

“You have me. I’m—” a hot breath against her neck. “All I am is made of you. Like Adam’s rib—”

She was slung to his hips, feeling his erection, and Malfoy very well dealt with the issue by merely putting them further into the stacks.

Perhaps he was onto something, though—perhaps if someone were to peek, they wouldn't even see it was her—

“Draco. /Draco/. We—”

“Hmph,” he responded, dragging her lips back to him. Her hips canted, but a floorboard creaked nearby.

She went to check again, but her neck arched instead, desperate for sickening, completion filled air.

“We’re gonna—he’s—”

Malfoy barely let it faze him, kissing down her neck, sucking her collar bone. His fingers crooked in her and she whimpered a moan.

Bloody hell. Bloody Merlin.

She didn’t endow him a response. His face was shoved to hers, and she kissed him hungerly, and his mouth opened completely to her.

“I bloody well swore I saw her…”

Her mouth torn from him to look out the opening of the stacks. /Ron/.

He watched her try to keep focus; she felt his lashes lower and raise, and the thought of it made her wetter. “Please,” she whispered.

“Change of plans?”

“Bug off.”

“Get you off, I believe you were trying to say.”

She felt like she was perpetually wet, nowadays, and two digits slid in easily. Nails dug into his shoulder as he thumbed her clit. He humbled a chuckle.

“You’re positively—ah—impossible, Draco Malfoy.”

Her chin dropped her mouth open as her forehead scrunched against his.

She caught his bottom lip, her fingers positively messing his hair through. But it brought him closer. He didn't mind.

“No, we shouldn’t. Not when you have reading to do.”

“Not that—” his tongue won her focus. “Just—”

She gasped as his fingers found her core.

That, she felt keen to answer. He did too, exuberantly so, letting her hands guide his pelvis closer to her.

Squeezing low enough on her waist that her skirt rose dangerously.

“Wait—we shouldn’t,” she said, allowing him to raise her off her toes.

“Privacy, you say. From what?” He asked against her, hands roaming.

His chest was firm under her fingertips and linen soft as she scrunched it.

She kissed him harder, knowing he knew the answer and knowing he knew she would never speak it. “/For/ what?”

She hated when he kissed her because she could never stop herself.

He knew this of a sort, which is why he always smiled into it as she immediately pushed forward to catch him deeper. Their tongues played in the casual, facetious fastening of their lips.

“I was just…so lost in my reading, I barely realized.”

His brows raised as he nodded. “Right.”

The book closed due to his slender fingers, and her cheeks burned. She was able to look at him until then. He amended it, though, his thumb hooking under her jaw, guiding her to his lips.

He watched her for a beat. “Privacy? Do I not rank in the measure of averted peers? Or am I below it, even?”

Her eyes rolled. “Please. You have a mastery in making everything about you.” He started stepping closer to her, his eyes sarcastically holding onto every word.

Hermione tried to play it off by opening the book she happened to grab on her run from Ron’s sought Valentine proposal.

Her eyes flicked to the heading: Slime and Sap: A Compendium of Magical Oozes and Plant Excretions.

Wonderful. Her nose scrunched in secondhand disgust and the lack of her luck.

Her neck snapped to the left.

Malfoy lounged there, elbow rested on a shelf too high to be reasonable.

“No I’m not,” she detested immediately, her voice much more hush in comparison. “I just wanted…privacy.”

also on ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/70210236

Hermione was thankful for the sturdiness charms as her back slammed into the back of the bookcase. She only released her breath when the steps percussioned to the next wing, a soft questioning of her name in Ron’s tilted way.

“You’re hiding.”