A/N: Okay well this has been posted for a while on adultfanfiction and I was debating whether or not to put it up here. I finally got around to censoring it a little. Just a change in some graphic words and imagery here and there. You're not missing anything by reading it here instead of on aff so don't worry.
Read on and please enjoy!
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Potions had never lasted so long and it was only an hour into a double lesson.
One hour to go.
She shifted again.
For about two days every month, her hormones went wild. She never did anything about it because after all, she wasn't a slave to her body, but it was starting to get the better of her. Being a seventh year virgin wasn't all that uncommon but Hermione had always felt a little advanced for her age. Not just sexually – though she had started masturbating at thirteen – but intellectually and emotionally as well. That was one reason she hadn't let into the carnal urges just yet.
Not that any boy would have her, she reminded herself.
She was of medium height, around five foot six, and not stick-thin, as were so many girls her age but certainly not fat. Her hips had a feminine flare to them and her ass was round but her stomach was flat as anything, only changing at her average sized breasts. Her hair had become a touch more manageable over the years but still had a flare quality to it. Her face, she thought, was pretty enough, save for the occasional blemish and she had full lips that she was thankful for. The fact remained that she was still at core, a teenage girl and therefore insecure.
She sighed and tried to pay attention to the lesson. Snape had been rambling the entire hour, and had promised to do so for the next. Normally she would be taking notes fervently, but her condition had taken away nearly all motivation to do so.
"The side-effects can be disastrous, however, if the stirring is not synchronized with the adding of the unicorn hair..." Hermione stopped listening. It was ridiculous, she thought, that she didn't have a clue which potion he was even talking about.
She gave up. There was no way she was getting anything out of this lesson; she would just ask Parvati or Harry to borrow their notes later. It would no doubt shock them, but Parvati at least, would understand.
She let her gaze wander. It first landed on Ron, whom she was sitting beside but quickly moved to Harry in front of her. She cocked her head and studied him.
Harry was attractive. Hell, he was more than attractive but he was like a brother to her. Actually, that wasn't true. It hadn't been for a couple months. Ever since they had come back from summer for their seventh year, she had noticed Harry, not just as a friend, but as a man.
His black, indecently sexy hair was the source of many whispered conversations in the girl's dorms at night, as was his newly developed body. He had finished off puberty and with that, came broader shoulders and a fuller body. Gone was the lanky teenager, and a young man took his place.
Hermione watched as he turned his head to talk to Seamus, who sat beside him. She couldn't hear their whispered conversation but stared at his lips, watching them form words, smile, laugh. She imagined them on her body, imagined that tongue tracing down to her unmentionables and sliding them off with those strong, beautiful hands. The same hands, running over her naked body, feeling all her curves and telling her she was beautiful.
Ron's elbow hit hers, jostling her out of her musings. She swallowed thickly and sat straighter in her chair. As she settled into her chair, she realized she was wet. Wetter than she could ever remember being without at least touching herself. Her lower stomach was tight with tension and her mind still running wild.
Her eyes slowly slid back to Harry, just as he turned to ask her a question.
She reacted as though she had never spoken to him before, and he was a secret crush of hers. Actually, she supposed, this last was true. Still, she chastised herself for her reaction.
"What did he just say about centaur hooves?" he asked, looking at her through his trademark glasses.
Hermione was struck by the intense green of his eyes. The openness with which he looked at her. She felt both incomplete and overjoyed within their relationship.
"... I don't know, sorry," she said, anticipating his amusement or derision. Instead, he looked at her with concern.
"Is something wrong?" He looked so honestly worried that she blushed.
"I'm fine. Just feel a little ill," she avoided his gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry shift a significant glance at Ron, and gesture with his head towards her. She knew they were wondering what was going on, and she could only pray they didn't find out.
Harry turned back to the front and Hermione went back to trying to concentrate for a few moments. Remembering that hadn't worked the first time either, she soon gave in again. Her eyes drifted down from Snape's face to his desk. It was immaculately clean – what else from Snape?
Only one side had anything on it, and it was paper and a quill. A perfectly flat surface, clean and uncluttered.
Her mind conjured up the image of her, facing the desk and upper body forced down upon it so that her ass stuck up invitingly. Harry would come around her, playing with the hem of her elevated skirt and murmuring how much he loved her.
Maybe he would get down on his knees behind her and pull her plain black panties down, stuffing them in his pocket. Flip her skirt up and encourage her legs apart, even the tiniest bit.
Hermione shivered and saw Ron look at her.
Harry would flick her clit with his tongue, all the while edging a finger into her tight hole. She could imagine pushing back against his ministrations as he wouldn't pleasure her enough to come, but just enough so that she needed to.
She felt herself drip, and expected that her panties were soaking by now. She rubbed against the wooden chair she was sitting on, under the pretence of bumming up in her seat. The problem presented itself when she found that she couldn't stop. The rocking motion created squishing between her vaginal lips and clit, providing a magnificent friction. She closed her eyes and revelled in the sensation.
"Hermione!" Ron stage whispered to her.
She jerked from her fantasy, in which Harry was now about to enter her. "What?!" she said, sounding more annoyed than intended.
Ron stammered, obviously not wanting to upset her. "You were just rocking. Is your stomach bothering you or something?"
"A little," she said, not able to come up with any other explanation for her behaviour.
Ron frowned, "Do you want to go see Madam Pomfrey after class?"
She was just about to answer when Snape called from the front, "Mister Weasley! No talking in class. Fifteen points from Gryffindor." That was the end of that conversation.
Almost glad that she could get back to her fantasy, Hermione sat back. She didn't want to have a repeat performance of the rocking.
With one quick movement, Harry would enter her. No patience for preparation or care – that could be saved for another time. His thrusts would start off slowly but gradually take on more and more power and speed. She would thrust right back at him, so that skin slapping would resonate in the Potions classroom. They would both be fully dressed, except for her panties and his fly, so that they could easily pull apart if anybody entered unexpectedly.
On his cock would be her wetness, clearly visible as it disappeared into her again and again. The wood of the Potions Master's desk digging into her thighs as the head of his cock pushed into her tender walls with every move. There would be no need for other stimulation, no need to touch her clit before she came. And when she did come, it would be glorious. Her walls hugging his most intimate part, not wanting to let it out, to feel empty.
As her hole would tighten around him, they would both come, him spewing into her while she nearly wet herself in pleasure. The release of tension would be amazing, feeling her whole body go limp and falling forward onto the desk.
Bringing herself back into reality, where Snape was still rambling about something, she realized how close to the edge she really was. She had to come. She needed it.
She glanced at Ron. He seemed to be in his own universe. She waved a hand a little to the side of his head and he didn't move. Mind made up, she surreptitiously slid her right hand down her body to her skirt. Slowly, very slowly, she slipped her hand underneath. Ron still didn't move so she continued, gently touching herself overtop of her panties. She had been right; they were absolutely and completely soaked through. Hermione hoped it wouldn't leave a mark on the back of her skirt.
She rubbed her clit once, twice, three times, and then came.
As previously mentioned, Hermione had been masturbating since the age of thirteen and therefore had had many orgasms. She knew when one was coming and could control, to some level, her reaction to it. Even so, it was still an orgasm and she shook a bit, eyes closed and mouth open, and held her breath.
A good fifteen seconds later, it had ended and she went limp, sagging in her seat. Ron was still in his own time zone so she relaxed and went about thinking what an idiot she was. Who got off in class? Honestly. She could only be very happy that nobody had noticed her doing it. What a stupid idea. The hormones now out of her system, she could see how utterly outrageous it was to masturbate in class. She flushed and gave one last look around the class, making sure everybody was zoned out.
To her horror, she found someone who was not.
On her other side, across the row, was Draco Malfoy. And he was staring at her. No sneer or smirk, only a spark of lust in his eye.
I've now posted a sequel online for anybody who was interested. It's on my profile; "A Scrap of Honour"