Chapter Text
Hermione massages her throbbing temples as leans back into her chair. She glances at her recently completed parchment, the words seem to blur together for how long she has been in library.
Breathing in a slow deep breath as she rolls her shoulders gently a sense of peace washes through her tired muscles as she takes in her surrounds.
The library has always been her sanctuary, her place to discover, her place to escape. Even as a little girl she would love her trips to the library. For most children a treat would be a trip to the ice-cream parlour, or to the fare, and whilst Hermione loved those things too, there was something magical about reading about faraway lands and twisting reality. Your imagination the only block, you could be a pirate, an astronaut or even a witch.
Sitting in the oldest section of the library she can't help but smile as she scans the ornate bookshelves with their delicate carvings and filled with books bound in red, green and brown leather all perfectly stacked, and cared for over hundreds of years by people with a profound love of literature.
She sighs blissfully at how the slivers of moonlight spill into the room, navigating between the wooden chairs and kissing the spines of her beloved books.
It was a beautiful full moon, which hung like great luminous pearl surrounded by freckles of stars in the deep dark cloudless sky. It seems so close, like she could just reach out and touch it.
She feels content and that is a rare feeling nowadays. Staring from the milky moon beams caressing the stone floor to the large bright moon she can physically feel the annoyances, the worries of her day and the anxieties of what's to come fade away.
"There is a reason your called ‘Grandmother Moon' isn't there?" she whispers "all knowing and always over-seeing our lives here on Earth."
Hermione signs, she doesn't want this moment to end but it's very late and she is the last in library.
A tingle of pride runs through her and she automatically puffs her chest out a little at the thought that she has been entrusted with the password to the library to use whenever she requires. Only a handful of students over the years have been awarded such a privilege, Dumbledore himself being one.
A little part of her couldn't help but think that Dumbledore was trying to arm her with as much knowledge as she could memorise for a war that may be just around the corner.
Shaking that thought from her mind, Hermione slowly packs up her things and makes her way back to the Gryffindor common room.
Her shoulders tensing a little at the prospect of Harry or Ron jumping immediately at her with new tales of Malfoy's Deatheater ploys, or worse Quidditch. Hopefully they will both be asleep she thought, it was the middle of the night after all.
The hallways are quiet except for the sound of her lonely footsteps against the stone floor for the longest time.
But then Hermoine stops suddenly, she can hear footsteps echoing sharply around the deserted corridors sounding overly loud in her own ears. The steps are fast and frantic like someone is running.
Probably just a student trying to run away from Mrs Norris she tries to convince herself, but she can't be sure. The threat of war has been brewing for some time now and Hogwarts is a prime target. Her heart begins beating fast against her chest, like that of a condemned prison awaiting their fate.
Instantly grasping her wand she braces herself for who will turn that corner. Wand pointed she tries to hold her wand steady, a spell ready on her lips should she need it. She notices her wand shaking slightly.
Barely having time to refocus her thoughts, the unknown person slams into her at a force that sends her back 3 or 4 steps. Her instant reaction is to grab either side of the individuals arms and hang on.
The scream tore through Hermione like a sharp dagger. Hermione' s eyes widen and her pulse quickens, her heart thudding. The scream came again, desperate, terrified. It was the loudest most piercing scream she had ever heard. It sounded like a scream of wild panic. A scream of hysteria and deep fear, bordering on terror. Pansy Parkinson is standing before her screaming, her face flushed. In a panic Hermione's instincts take over, she begins aggressively shaking Parkinson into silence.
"Parkinson what in Merlin's name"
Pansy eyes widened, her breath erratic as she stood stunned like she had just seen her first ghost.
"Were were we....wolf" she stammered out between tears and broken breath
"What on earth are you...." began Hermione her sentence cut short by a howling screech.
Her blood runs cold. She knows that sound all too well.
The terrible snarling noises and images of her much loved Professor and friend Remus Lupin transforming into a frenzied werewolf were embedded deep in her psyche.
"Run" she yells, her survival instinct kicking in.
Dragging Parkinson with her they run as fast as they can in the opposite direction to the sound.
Sweat forms on Hermione's skin, her eyes throb from the pace she is running. She can feel the oxygen burning her throat as it floods in and out of her lungs. Not exactly sure where they are running to, fear motivates her from stopping despite the pain. She feels rather than sees Parkinson falling behind her, she's been running a lot longer than Hermione and the exhaustion is starting to set in.
Need somewhere safe to hide thinks Hermione
"Quick over here" points Hermione
"Alohomora" she says pointing towards a wooden door unlocking it and rushing Parkinson in.
"Lumos" says Hermione lighting up the room.
Breathing heavily she realises too late that this room is tiny, there is just barely enough room for both of them and worst of all they are now trapped. They easily bump into each other as they try to find a space and turn to the door wands poised. A dark cramped space with a damp odour filtrates their senses, they are surrounded by shelves filled with cleaning products, rags, a mop and bucket tucked in the very near corner. It's Filch's supply cupboard.
"I'm going to die" pants Parkinson
"You're not going to die" Hermione replies unsure but it seems like the right thing to say to try and calm Parkinson down.
Parkinson is leaning against the wall, inhaling deep frantic breaths, her eyes wide as she begins to rock back and forth.
"I'm too young to die"
"You're not going to die" Hermione repeats her breath still short as she frantically looks around the room trying to get air into her lungs.
"Think Hermione, think" she tells herself
Fear is churning her stomach in tense cramps. She can hear the thumping of her heart against her chest. Her fingers are curled into a fist, her nails digging into the palm of her hand.
"Colloportus" she says pointing her wand to the door locking it from the inside.
"Oh that'll keep a werewolf out" pants Parkinson still out of breath "I'm going to die here with you"
"Your not going to die" Like a record on repeat Hermione says automatically
Hermione's mind is racing almost as fast as her heart as she tries to remember, everything she learnt from third year in Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Out of sight" she mumbles to herself as if checking off a list
"I'm going to die, I'm too pretty to die" Parkinson almost yells hysterically, her breath quickening.
"You're not dying Parkinson shut up". whispers Hermione sharply
"Hearing. Werewolves have sharpened hearing, its their second strongest sense" Hermione whispers lowly to herself "they can hear the stutter of a heartbeat. Muffliato" she quickly says pointing her wand to the door.
"Will that work on it" asks Parkinson in a panic
Hermione's brain is in overload mode. The Muffliato spell fills the ears of anyone nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing noise, so it allows conversing without being overheard. Werewolves are part human so it might work, she hopes.
"I...I don't know, it's never been tested before" Hermione says trying desperately to maintain the panic out of her voice
"Merlin i'm going to die. I'm too young to die"
"You're not going to die"
Both girls freeze staring at each other at the growling sounds coming from down the hallway. It's now reached the top the of the corridor they had just run down.
Breathing faster than before Hermione begins to whisper to herself again, " other senses, think," she tells herself, "the werewolf has an exceptional sense of smell, it is the strongest of all the senses approximately 100 times stronger than humans. This explains how they have an uncanny ability to" she pauses, her skin feels like it is roasting "find prey in the dark".
Hermione's muscles are frozen in place but filled with such a tingling pressure. Need to eliminate or at least confuse our smell she tells herself.
" I'm going to die, in a cleaning cupboard, a pureblood in the servants room" Pansy says her voice noticeably shaking.
"You're not going to die." The realisation of her surrounds striking like a lightening bolt "Cleaning cupboard. Brilliant Parkinson pass me the bleach and quickly"
Parkinson's blank look frustrates Hermione, she wants to scold her for being such a Pureblood primadonna who has probably never had to raise a finger to assist with cleaning anything, but she can hear the gnawing rasping sounds getting closer.
Reaching over Parkinson to the shelves above her head, she is practically leaning completely on top of her. Pressed against her, she can feel Parkinson's heartbeat speed match that of her own. She feels Parkinson's warm breath against her neck which sends an involuntary shiver down her spine as she grabs the bleach.
Sweat rolls down her skin in thick salty beads. She can feel her heart throbbing inside her chest as she begins to pour the entire container of bleach into the door and floor, splashing their shoes in the process, before grabbing another bottle and doing the same.
The potent eye watering smell engulfing the room instantly, causing her to woozily sway. Her brain feeling like it was being stretched pulled.
Please let this work, please let this work Hermione silently prays
" I'm going to die"
"Shhhhh, you're not going to die"
The blood chilling sounds slowly edging closer
"I'm going to die a virgin"
"You're not going to...you're a virgin?" Hermione questions eyes open in disbelief. But Parkinson isn't listening her ears are focussed on the oncoming sounds.
Hermione feels her cheeks heat up into a blush, embarrassed by her statements. It's funny how in extreme cases of pressure the brain latches onto irrelevant things to help ease the pressure of the moment. No wonder Ron is always constantly saying silly things given the scrapes they have found themselves in thinks Hermione
The sound of claws dragging over stone and deep heavy breathing moving closer and closer louder and louder snaps her back to the moment. She grips her wand so tightly it makes her hands ache. Her chest tightens, she holds her breath, her ears are pricked, hyper-aware of the nearing sounds.
The sounds pause and she knows just knows that the beast is in front of their door, sniffing the cool air. Her legs twitch fighting the impulse to break through the door and run. Her throat tightens, her mouth dries but she dare not swallow, pure terror surging through her veins.
Parkinson clings to her arm as if it the only lifeboat on a sinking ship. Her eyes wide in fear.
Time moves slowly what is only a second feels like an eternity. A slight scrapping sound against the door has Parkinson digging her nails painfully deeper into her forearm. The blood draining from her face as it all moves towards her pounding heart.
At least she's too petrified to scream thinks Hermoine
For the longest moment there is nothing and Hermione is convinced that at any moment the door will be ripped from its hinges and they will be torn to shreds. Not without a fight, she internally reassures herself.
Then the clicking sound of long sharp claws against the stone floor resumes moving slowly away from them.
Hermione lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her body awash with relief.
Moments pass neither girls move, petrified to the spot.
Finally breaking the silence
"Do you think it's gone? " whispers Parkinson slightly loosening her vice like grip of Hermione.
Hermione couldn't explain in but despite the pain there was some comfort to Parkinson being so close, her perfume disguising some of the ammonia smell.
"I don't know, but I think we should stay here, in case it's waiting somewhere"
Nodding in agreement Pansy presses her back hard against the wall away from Hermione.
The silence in the air deafening. They rarely speak to each other and when they do it's generally an exchange of insults. They are not friends or acquaintances, in fact pure and simple they are enemies fighting on the opposite side of an impending war.
As if the blood has finally returned to Parkinson's brain. "what do you mean by 'you're a virgin', like you are surprised?"
Obviously not impressed with Hermione's assumptions about her character. Parkinson's hands are on her hips, her eyes sharp and challenging, reminiscent of all the times Hermione has challenged Ron after one of his insensitive comments.
The questions catches Hermione off guard nervously she answers
"Ssss sorry, I just assumed Malfoy"
The look on Parkinson's face makes Hermione even more nervous "or Zabini, maybe Nott..."
Hermione can feel her heart picking up speed again as she gnaws on the inside of her cheek, she knows she is digging herself into a deep inescapable hole. She knows how this sounds. She also knows how offended and angry she would be if someone was insinuating she was sleeping around. She bows her head slightly in shame.
"Anybody else? Goyle? Crabb? The whole Quidditch team perhaps? What do you take me for?" Parkinson dares her. Her voice laced with anger "And what about you? she says pointing an accusing finger at Hermione "always hanging out with Potter and the Weasel, running off at all hours, busy on your knees taking it every way" her voice raising "or maybe ....."
She is cut off by the sound of a crashing noise in the not so far distance.
"It's coming back" Parkinson gasps her voice laced with fear.
The recent argument forgotten as Parkinson lunges and clasps onto Hermione.
They have never been this close, ever. They only time they have ever touched has been when Parkinson has gone out of her way to aggressively bump or push Hermione in a confrontational way but here she is holding onto Hermione in deep terror.
A deep distorted growl is nearing "it never left, we confused it a bit" Hermione whispers back. "Whisper only"
Hermione's chest begins to constrict her breath becoming short again. Her feet and legs begin to tremble.
The sound ceases yet again. The werewolf knows they are somewhere near, it's waiting patiently for them to make an error, a trained hunter who knows it has the upper hand. It reminds Hermione of the cruel game Crookshank plays with a mouse he has captured. Slowly tormenting the poor little creature, playing and teasing it by throwing it in the air releasing them, letting them feel they may have escaped only to be dragged back with a giant claw. Exhausting them into submission. It never ends well for the mouse. She tries to save a many as she can but Crookshank is a keen predator.
They both strain their ears to hear for any sound of the beasts next move. It's deadly quiet but for their quick breaths.
Time moves slowly, she doesn't know how long they have been in this close position.
"I don't want to die a virgin either" whispers Hermoine.
She's not sure why she says it. It's as if she is at a confession. It's Parkinson's turn to be caught off guard, her words drawing her to look directly at Hermione.
Their eyes locking, Hermione's heart pulsates hard against her chest as her hand drifts towards Parkinson's waist. Confusion whirls, through her entire body. Her mind blank.
Swells of emotions run through her as Parkinson inhales sharply and her breath quickens. Her body trembles beneath her fingertips. Hermione hesitates. What is she doing? Perhaps the fumes from the bleach are making her delirious. She's never ever even considered kissing a girl before, let alone Parkinson. Her stomach drops she's made a horrible error in judgement, if she survives tonight she'll be forever tormented by Parkinson and her cronies.
All dread and confusion dissolves as Parkinson matches her action and places her hand on Hermione's waist
drawing her slowly closer and closer. Ever so slowly and cautiously. Their eyes shift between each other's lips and eyes. Their breath mingles, the swirl of sensations churning within Hermione makes her dizzy as a warmth broils through her body. Eyes still firmly locked on each other they gently move even closer. The air around them thickening with tension and desire. Hermione grazes her lips against Parkinson's, a jolt of searing excitement races through her as Parkinson's eyes flutter shut, her lips parting slightly, inviting her in. She's never been so bold. An electric shot of sizzling heat radiates in her stomach and in her pants as their lips meld into each other. The touch and taste of Parkinson's soft, warm lips causing her own eyes to close. There is a softness to the kiss that Hermione would never had expected. The way their lips move leisurely against each other clouds her mind. Shivers race down her spine as their tongues find each other.
Hearing the sound of her own heart beating with desire as Parkinson traces her hands along Hermione's hip to cup her buttocks, pulling her closer, Hermione gently pushes Parkinson against the wall.
A low moan escapes her as Parkinson wraps her leg tight around her waist pulling her flush against her body. Her breathing becoming harder as her hand traces upwards along Parkinson's thigh, the softness of her skin on her fingertips creating a longing pressure in her pussy, that continues to build as her hand carcasses up towards Parkinson's underpants. Her fingers timidly trace the edges of her underwear. She lets out a deep groan as Parkinson's fingers lightly trace along her hips to beneath her shirt towards her breasts. Their kisses becoming harder and feverish. The sounds of Parkinson's groans into her mouth building a desire she has never experienced before.
The insatiable need to touch and feel Parkinson driving her hand upwards to beneath her underwear.
"Albus, Albus 2 students are missing"
The panicked voice of Professor MacGonigall freezing Hermione and Parkinson in their spot.
Breaking their lips apart both girls look down at themselves. Their chests heaving. Hermione's hand is firmly up Parkinson's skirt just as Parkinson's is up her shirt.
Mortified at the prospect of their Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster finding them in this compromising position of two horny teenagers, they forcefully push away from each other, and stare at each other in shocked disbelief. It has to be the fumes from the bleach that made them act so out of character, Hermione tells herself.
Still dizzy with excitement and surprise she barely registers what she is doing. She's astounded by the speed that she opens the door, she needs to get out of here. Her heart racing for the umpteenth time this evening, but for completely different reasons.
"Were in here" she calls out, her voice noticeably shaken.
Standing before her is both Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall dressed in a tartan nightgown and nightcap.
The look on Professor McGonagall's face shifts from surprise to relief in an instant.
"Oh thank Merlin" she says clasping her chest "you poor things look at you, so disheveled and shaking with fright"
Hermione can feel the heat radiating from the base of her spine all the way To her face in embarrassment. She can only imagine how red her cheeks are. She dare not look in Parkinson's direction for she is sure she will give away exactly why they looked such a sight.
"Come, let's go to my office for a nice cup of tea" Professor Dumbledore says in a soothing voice.