Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

a/n: My first lemon, so be nice!! I like reviews, so remember that, mmk?


Hermione Jean Granger was waiting patiently for her train when she saw him: A tall, lean, raven-haired Lothario with amazing emerald green eyes hidden behind a pair of square-framed glasses, which only added to his mysterious air. As she watched him, she couldn't keep a mischievous smile from forming on her lips. She slowly lowered her book and pretended to fix the strap on her sandal as she watched him.

He stood in line at the ticket counter directly across the room from where she sat, his black coat thrown carelessly over his arm and a red suitcase by his feet. He looked aimlessly around the terminal, his eyes occasionally flickering her way. Hermione blushed slightly as she sat back up and resumed 'reading', hoping that he wouldn't notice her, yet at the same time praying that he would.

The lady at the ticket booth called "Next!" and the man bent and grasped his suitcase by the handle before walking purposefully to the counter. Hermione couldn't hear what he was saying to the ticket woman, but she could see her blush and give him a response as she took his papers. She turned to her computer and discreetly fixed her red hair, her eyes gleaming in the dull light that radiated from the computer's tiny screen.

Hermione felt a surge of jealousy course through her. He should have been talking to her, not to some overweight ticket wench, who worked in the South Terminal at King's Cross, and who wore enough makeup to put even Miss Piggy to shame. Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled, letting her eyes close. Calm down, just calm down, she told herself. I'm overreacting. There's no way in hell this guy will notice me anyway, so there's no need to get so worked up.

At 5'5", Hermione was average size. Narrow hips, size B-cup bra, slender middle, but not reed thin. She had since her years at Hogwarts, tamed the raging beast that was her hair. It was still long and brown, but instead of being frizzy, soft, loose waves framed her angular face. She hardly ever wore makeup, but was thankful that she had happened to wake up early enough on that particular day which gave her enough time to swipe on some eyeliner and mascara before leaving for the train station. Overall, she thought herself mildly unimpressive, and was quite sure men felt the same. During school she had had only one boyfriend, whose name she could no longer remember. The only thing she was sure of was that he was mildly unimpressive himself, so the two had been a perfect match.

She peeked at the stranger from over the top of her book and watched as he reached around and took his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a card, presumably an ID, and handed it to the woman at the counter. Hermione noticed that he had quite a nice ass for such a skinny guy. After looking at the card for a moment, the ticket lady said something else to him and handed the ID back to him, along with a ticket. The man took the ticket, nodded, then turned and walked away, fading into a crowd of people arriving from Ipswich. Hermione sighed and went back to actually reading her book, as she had been before he had captured her interest, but her mind kept going back to the stranger and she wondered how it would feel to have him fuck her.


Harry James Potter was waiting in line for a ticket when he saw her: a beautiful, leggy brunette with her nose buried in a book. He smiled to himself as he saw her glance his way. He turned his head quickly and pretended to study a travel poster on the wall next to him. Harry stared at the smiling family on the poster proclaiming that 'your summer is best spent state-side!' until he was sure that she had looked away before chancing a glance in her direction once more.

All her attention was focused on her shoe at the moment, which gave Harry plenty of time to check her out before she would notice. She sat on a blue, two-seated bench across from where he stood. Luck, on his part: he had considered going to a different ticket booth because the line for the one he stood in now had been so long, but now he was glad he had decided to wait. She wore a white, scoop-neck top that exposed only a slip of cleavage, even though she was bent over in her seat. A denim skirt that hit at mid-thigh and sandals that were fairly reminiscent of Greek-style footwear. He watched her straighten up and resume reading.

Harry kept watching her, his eyes wandering the terminal, but always falling back to her. Was she here with her boyfriend? Did she have a boyfriend? Did she have a girlfriend? He looked at the ground near her feet. Only one suitcase. She was here by herself, at least for the moment. He thought he saw her eyes flit towards him, so he looked away. But it must have just been a coincidence. She couldn't possibly be looking at him.

Harry knew he wasn't much to look at. His black hair was perpetually messy, giving him the impression that he had just woken up minutes before and hadn't thought to brush his hair before going out in public. He had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, just below the hairline that he was quite sensitive about, but the scar was usually covered by his tangle of hair. He also wore glasses, which he thought was the sign of a complete and total nerd who had no hope of getting laid, not now, or in the impending future. Other than that, Harry was just... average. Average height at 5'11". Average weight, although what that was, Harry didn't know. He just knew that he wasn't under nor overweight. Even his cock was average: 6 inches, if he cheated a bit. Perhaps the only extraordinary thing about him was his green eyes, a trait he gladly inherited from his mother.

"Next!" the woman at the ticket booth called, startling Harry out of his reverie. He stooped down and grabbed his suitcase before making his way towards the counter.

Harry smiled at the woman and held out his receipt for the train ticket he had bought online and his Visa. "Mum, if you don't mind me saying: you have beautiful hair," he noted as she took the piece of paper and the credit card from his hands.

The woman smiled and replied, "Well, thank you, dearie. It's natural, you know."

Harry nodded at the ticket woman as she turned to her computer screen to confirm his credit card number. He drummed his fingers lightly on the white counter top while he waited for the woman to finish punching numbers on the keyboard. He was impatient to continue watching the mysterious woman behind him. He imagined he could feel her eyes on his back, but that might have just been wishful thinking.

The ticket woman looked up at him expectantly. "ID?"

"Oh, of course." Harry drew his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his driver's license. He handed it to the woman who compared him to the picture on the ID. "That's kind of an old picture..." Harry said before clearing his throat.

The woman waved her hand as she handed him his ID and a ticket. "No worries! Have a nice trip, Mr. Longbottom!"

Harry nodded in reply, still startled by the use of the alias on his card, even after years of using it. "Thanks... I will." He turned and stepped away from the counter. He wasn't quite sure where he wanted to go just yet. He didn't want to stray too far from the mysterious woman, just in case he might have a chance with her, but he also didn't want to embarrass himself by going and talking to her if she wasn't interested. So he just kept walking straight and let his feet take him wherever they wanted, which happened to be in the direction of the food court and restrooms. As he walked, the thought about the woman and how good it would feel to be inside her: he hadn't had a good fuck in ages.