Disclaimer: No, they're not mine.

Wet.

She leaned over the balcony of the Astronomy Tower, escaping the meagre shading of the ancient stones for a moment. It was past midnight, torrentially raining, and she was standing alone. A recipe for poetic grandiosity, and yet the one word she could think of to justify her surroundings was wet.

She let the water run down her face, slide across the bridge of her nose and across the soft curve of her lips. Hermione revelled in its musty scent of nothingness, and allowed her discomfort to evaporate into oblivion.

Wet.

"Aesthetic purification, Miss Granger?" He murmured. "I had thought higher of you than that."

"Some privacy would be appreciated." She replied, dismal.

"Some privacy would be appreciated, professor", He echoed. "Don't overstep your boundaries, Miss Granger."

Her hands curled into fists around the cold, marble railing. Her retort was acerbic.

"When you so palpably overstepped your own, professor?"

Even though her back was turned to him, the sneer permeated through the few metres between them. He walked towards her – slow, deliberate steps accompanied by a fixated stare at the back of her head, ending only when he stood immediately behind her. "With your consent, as it were." He began. "And might I suggest that the next time you're seeking solace, you search in a place other than the focal point of our previous….. trysts."

His silken words across the back of her neck were madness to her restraint. "If anyone found out… If I told someone – " She began.

"Like who?" He mused, sardonically, "Potter and Weasely? Because if you had any intention of revealing this to anyone, I would be equally enthusiastic to report that it was consensual."

"You'd have a hard time proving it." She declared, fingering a small crack on the railing and resisting the urge to press herself backwards against the familiar contours of his skilful body.

"I would. My friend Veritaserum wouldn't."

He gently pushed her hair aside to expose an inch of pale flesh and kissed it lightly. "You know," he continued, "this would be slightly more difficult if you didn't keep coming back, Miss Granger. Now turn around."

And she did.

He lifted her face up towards his and seized a forceful kiss from her rain-beaten lips. Then he seized another one. And another, till he had broken through her defences and the kisses became voluntary on her behalf.

"Come closer", he whispered, between aggressive reunions of their lips, "You're soaking."

"Yes, professor".