Work Text:
“These games are so barbaric!”
With her announcement, Hermione stood from the round table – one of many in the Great Hall, knocked over her empty pint glass, and stormed out. The shot glass that had also been in front of her rolled on its side, saved from a crash only by Harry’s quick reflexes.
“What’s got her knickers in a twist?” It was Cho who asked the question, eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Was it the question?”
Who is the last witch or wizard you slept with?
The question was one of many that came from The Box of Secrets. Really, it was a pinewood box Luna had brought to the unofficial reunion at Hogwarts. It was actually a gathering of friends – new and old – from various years that Neville was able to bring to Hogwarts over the summer. How he convinced the Headmistress was anyone’s guess, but no one questioned it.
Percy stood from the table and said wearily, “I’ll go see if she’s okay.”
Ron cleared his throat. “You? Why you?”
“Well, you’re not getting up to check, are you?”
“Point to you,” he said with an actual point of his finger. Pansy lowered his arm, whispering that it was rude, darling, stop pointing.
With a shake of his head, Percy left the Great Hall, ignoring Harry’s pointed gaze. It didn’t take him long to find the witch of topic; she was beneath the Divination Tower, a dim light emanating from the tip of her wand. Like she was waiting.
“Took you long enough,” she said primly when Percy came into view. “Thought I’d have to go on my own.”
“I was barely four minutes,” he argued. There was a smile gracing his face, though, as he took hold of her hand. “Ron asked why me.”
“Why you were following me or why you were the last wizard I slept with?” She laughed a bit when she asked, even as she tugged on his hand to follow. Together, they made their way past Gryffindor Tower. It was empty in the space between the Clock Tower and the Owlery, but that wasn’t a surprise – after all, everyone who was at the school was drinking away in the Great Hall and answering silly and intrusive personal questions.
“The first since no one knows about the second.”
Hermione came to a halt at his words, at the slightly bitter tone. She turned to face him. “Percy.”
“I’m sorry.” He let out a deep sigh. “We agreed, I know. It’s just…”
She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Just?”
“The sneaking around is… It was fun, love, back in the beginning. But this shouldn’t be a secret. We shouldn’t be a secret.”
Hermione nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Percy was startled, not expecting a quick agreement. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” she confirmed. Then she gave him a wry grin. “We should celebrate.”
There was a lilt in her voice that was all too familiar to Percy. He felt himself begin to harden at the glint in her eyes and the way she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. “We should, eh?”
“Beneath the Quidditch stands,” she said with a nod. “Like all those films we’ve been watching.”
The laugh Percy let out was loud and full of mirth. “I don’t think those Muggle films of yours have Quidditch.”
“American football. Rugby. Quidditch. Same thing.”
“I beg to differ,” Percy muttered, but he allowed himself to be pulled by Hermione again, this time toward the Quidditch pitch.
The stands were, of course, empty. It was almost eerie, the way the House banners hung down the towers, only fluttering at the edges when a wayward breeze blew by. Hermione let go of him suddenly and threw him a “Catch me if you can!” playfully before sprinting away.
With a giant grin, he chased after her, through colorful banners and doors that head to changing areas. He dodged wooden beams as he followed her taunting teases and loud giggles. It was fitting that he caught her outside one of the Gryffindor stands, the both of them breathing heavily from the run.
“Mine,” he crowed. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. He sounded so much more like his brothers in claiming a victory than his normal self. Once again, she looped her arms around his waist; this time, she tilted her face up and Percy’s gaze softened. In a softer tone, he repeated, “Mine.”
Hermione didn’t answer. Instead she moved up onto the tips of her toes and caught his mouth with her lips. She always loved kissing Percy, always felt it could be the perfect lead-up to more , but always left satisfied from them.
Tonight was no different.
Percy’s fingers stroked down the column of Hermione’s neck, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. As he tilted his head, he swept a tongue over her lips, and tasted the ale from her tongue. When his thumbs ran over the fabric covering her nipples, Hermione arched toward him and moved her hands from his waist to his chest. Her tongue wound around his just as he reached down and took hold of her thigh, bringing it up to rest against his hip. Hermione leaned back, settling against one of the wooden posts, and let out a shameless moan.
“Quiet,” Percy said between kisses on her neck. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you now, would you?”
“No one’s here,” she protested. She rocked her hips against him, looking for friction, searching for pleasure.
“Aaaaah!”
Percy shot backwards at the sudden scream. Hermione gasped.
“My eyes. MY EYES!”
“Malfoy?”
“Hermione, cover yourself !”
“What?” Hermione looked down and realized Percy had managed to tug down her sweater to bare the tops of her breasts. “Oh, it’s just some boobs.”
“Aaaaaah. Don’t say boobs !”
Percy was struggling not to laugh, even as he moved in front of Hermione. He waved his wand to help cover her again. “I didn’t know Malfoy was such a prude.”
“He’s not,” Blaise said cheekily. “He’s just afraid seeing a woman as well-endowed as Hermione might turn him straight.”
“Blaise!”
“Honestly, Draco,” Hermione said with a sigh. “We were just snogging.”
There were varying emotions expressed on everyone’s face. There was Harry’s knowing grin while Theo rolled his eyes next to him. Ron’s face was a mixture of intrigue and horror as Pansy laughed at his side.
Meanwhile, Draco’s hands were still covering his eyes. “Is it safe to look yet? Is it safe?”
Hermione tilted her head and shrugged. “Um. Surprise?”