"So—" Hermione choked, after they had both stood staring up at top of the bookshelf for several minutes.

"Right..." Malfoy said thin voice. "Well, twenty-nine years and eleven months to go then."

Hermione turned and stared at him speculatively.

"You don't—you don't think we should at least—I don't know, maybe—try kissing?" she asked.

He appeared to pale somewhat at the question.

"I mean—I know it's just a crush," she said hurriedly, "and Merlin knows I've had crushes on people I wouldn't actually want to kiss. Gilderoy Lockhart, for one. So—obviously—I'm not trying to presume—" Malfoy was turning a sickly grey before her eyes, "—but anyway, we don't need to talk about this."

Hermione didn't think she had ever had such an awkward conversation in her life. Her face felt as though she had set it on fire. She started to turn away but then abruptly turned back.

"But, is it honestly that awful of an idea?" she put her hands on her hips, beginning to feel offended. "I mean, it doesn't seem like anyone's going to come looking for us and whether or not we're each other's first choice in sexual partners it's more pragmatic than living in here together for thirty years. Even if you do have a general rule of not sleeping with muggleborns or whatever."

Malfoy was looking distinctly peaked.

"Never mind," Hermione said in a stiff voice and she turned and stormed away.

She made it about ten steps before she suddenly felt a hand on her wrist. She was spun around as Malfoy's lips crashed into her own.

It should be noted, when she'd suggested kissing, she'd meant just a quick, closed-lip smooch for—research purposes, obviously—to determine whether there was any chemistry between them.

Apparently Malfoy had a more extensive investigation in mind.

He backed her up into a bookshelf and pinned her there as he kissed her deeply.

Hermione had always had a secret fantasy about snogging and, ahem—having sex, in a library. One which she had never intended to indulge in, given that there was most certainly a rule against it.

It was possible that snogging anyone right then and there would have resulted in lighting her insides up like a Christmas tree.

However, speaking from an entirely empirical standpoint, Draco Malfoy was an excellent kisser.

Not wet and uncertain, or stabby and overly invasive, he was fiery and intentional. His lips were hot against hers and he was a utter tease as he nipped and flicked and peppered kisses against her lips until she was gasping against him and he finally started languorously teasing her tongue with his own in a way that made her moan.

In fact, it rather seemed as though Draco Malfoy had no questions or doubt at all regarding their chemistry and had an entirely different field of research in mind as he snogged Hermione's brains out. He seemed far more interested with compiling a geological survey on her mouth and ascertaining the precise topography of every bit of her body currently within his reach.

His hands were roaming over her from her thighs up to the top of her head. Over her clothes, but quite thoroughly nonetheless. Gripping her, kneading her, palming her. Lifting her leg tight up against him before wandering on to squeeze her bum and slide his hand along the small of her back as he ground himself against her before sliding his arm further to span her waist. Meanwhile his other hand was tangled in her hair, angling her perfectly so he could kiss her before slowly sliding his fingers down the column of her throat, over her shoulder, and then lightly across her covered breasts so that she whimpered and arched against him.

Now—Hermione may have had smaller scientific ambitions initially, but she was hardly one to let such a research opportunity pass her by without seizing it.

She tangled her fingers his hair and ruffled it the way she'd been dying to. Then she slid her hands down along his jaw and the tendons of his neck to hold his shoulders; confirming her hypothesis that he most certainly did possess lithe, muscular build of a seeker. She could feel the sinew of his muscles under his robes and the hard, flat planes of his body as he pressed himself against her.

The way her body reacted him seemed unnaturally heightened. Maybe Draco Malfoy was some sort of sex god, or maybe she was just exceptionally stressed and sex deprived—she had lived in a library for two years and she hadn't had much time to date at the Ministry either. Not to mention that she'd been lusting and fantasizing about him nonstop for what felt like weeks now.

But why she was aroused didn't feel entirely pertinent.

Draco Malfoy was setting her entire body on fire beneath his capable hands and if anyone or anything tried to interrupt him she would curse them within an inch of their life. She was gasping and writhing as his lips and tongue continued to caress hers and his hands slid slowly over her body.

Then abruptly he stepped back, leaving her slumped against the bookshelf, gasping for air as she tried to refrain from shrieking indignantly at him for stopping.

"So—kissing," he rasped.

"Mmm," she agreed.

"Nice."

"Mmhm..." She whimpered slightly as she noticed that some point she had started unbuttoning his shirt and indeed, Draco Malfoy was quite sexy looking when his robes were slightly askew and his shirt undone and his hair ruffled and falling over his eyes. She wanted to sink into a puddle of arousal from the mere sight of him.

The fact that he was still capable of formulating actual words was really irritating.

She wondered if he'd still be able to talk if she were so start slipping her clothes off and purring, "Shag me, Draco."

Probably. Motormouthed prat.

Weren't males supposed to be the aggressive, pushy ones? The ones who acted like they might die if a witch refused to have sex with them?

Hermione currently felt like she might die if he refused to have sex with her. Although whether it would be from sexual frustration or the boredom of being trapped for thirty years in a dimensional containment ward she wasn't entirely certain.

Of all the wizards in the world, how did she end up there with the one who was an excellent snogger, unjustly attractive, and also apparently had the sexual self-restraint of a devoted monk?

She had never pegged Draco Malfoy as overflowing with restraint. Who would given how endlessly he seemed to talk? Yet Hermione was the one currently slumped against a bookshelf and Malfoy was the one standing upright, about five hundred words into some rambling explanation of a convoluted math puzzle he'd invented involving the library's numerical organization system.

She was currently incapable of focusing on it in her current state of mind.

What her mind was focused on was his mouth. How his clavicles were showing in the opening of his shirt. The faint definition of his pectorals. How long his fingers were. And that she could most definitely tell that he was indeed aroused at the moment, regardless of how many maths problems he wanted to pretend he was telling her about.

"So—," Malfoy was saying, "given that all the books in this room end in odd numbers, it can be diverting to choose a random book, add all the numbers together, and then either add or subtract seven until you get to a prime number, and try to see if that number assignation also exists in this room..."

He seemed to finally notice that Hermione was not paying any attention. "I'm going to go do that!"

Without another word, he bolted down the aisle and disappeared around the corner.

Hermione sank to the floor and spent several minutes trying to compose herself. She decided that compiling a list of bullet points might be a good thing to focus on.

—First point: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger had so much sexual chemistry it was likely to set a room on fire.

—Second point: If they didn't have sex they were going to be stuck in the history room for thirty years and Hermione would probably murder him out of sheer sexual frustration and boredom.

—Third point: Malfoy was, for some reason, opposed to snogging or to having of sex unless pressed.

—Fourth point: It was possible Malfoy was a virgin—but that seemed unlikely because he seemed like far too good a kisser. However, in the event that he was—well, that would be difficult. It would not be appropriate to try convincing him have sex with her if he were saving his virginity for something like actual marriage not caused by a sentient book.

—Fifth point: Assistant Librarian Hermione Granger, if she wanted to fulfill her work contract, reach her goal of reading all the books in the Library of Alexandria, keep her mental faculties intact, and not end up imprisoned for murdering the Malfoy heir, needed to convince him to have sex with her— assuming he was not a virgin. In which case, well, perhaps there would be future bullet points—if it came to that.

Hermione got to her feet and set out to find Malfoy. The heels of her oxfords tapped loudly against the stone floor as she stalked through the aisles.

When she finally found Malfoy he was standing awkwardly in an aisle, looking strangely suspicious.

She stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Draco Malfoy..." she said, hissing with indignation. "Are you hiding back here and tossing off?"

"N-no!" he protested, looking aghast.

"Really?" she said, her voice laced with skepticism, "In case you've forgotten, I once lived for in a tent for several months with adolescent boys. If you think you can fool me just by standing at an angle you have most certainly under-estimated me." She was seething. "You unforgivable little snake! How dare you snog me like that and then leave me there while you wandered away to get off alone."

"Wait—?" Malfoy choked. "That's what you object to?"

"Of course. What did you think I'd object to?" she threw her hands in air, despairing. "For Merlin's sake, we clearly have a sufficient amount of chemistry, why earth are you pretending to be solving maths puzzles back here?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because I'm not going to take the virginity of the girl I like just to get out of a fucking ward. I do actually have some standards," he said, looking at her with irritation.

"I'm not a virgin, you great pillock!"

Malfoy froze. "You're not?"

"No! Why do you think I'm a virgin?" Hermione said, her face hot. She nodded towards him. "I thought you were the one who might be a virgin."

"I'm not a virgin!" he snapped back, his expression indignant. His eyebrows furrowed doubtfully. "You're really not a virgin?"

"No!" Hermione said through her teeth. The conversation was getting aggravatingly circular.

"You're sure?" He was staring at her with a face full of skepticism.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I don't think I imagined it. Why on earth are you so convinced I'm a virgin?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down. "Oh I don't know, Granger. Maybe because of the general aura of virginal-ness that hangs about your person. Or the fact that you went and decided to move into a library for three years!"

Hermione was beginning to grow spitting mad. "Being proper and choosing to become a librarian here doesn't mean I can't or haven't had sex, Malfoy! For Merlin's sake, you are the most incomprehensible person I have ever met."

"Well, I do apologize for mistaking you for a virgin. In my defense you are the most prudish individual I have ever been acquainted with." His expression was sulky.

"If you find me so overwhelmingly prudish, why on earth are you attracted to me? I'm sure there are loads of sex kittens out there who would be happy for a dip in your Gringotts vault. Why don't you go pine after one of them?"

"I have no fucking clue why I can't! If I could reason my way out of it, rest assured, I would have well done it by now." His face was flushed with indignation.

"Fine." Hermione said, her voice tart. "Well then, since we've finally established that nobody's a virgin and that's apparently the only hang up, let's just have sex and we can each go on our merry ways."

Malfoy's jaw unhooked itself slightly and he stared down at her. After a long silence, he seemed to collect himself.

"Fine."

Then he immediately turned heel and stalked away.

"Where are you going now?" Hermione demanded indignantly.

Goddamn Malfoy and his fucking sexual restraint.

Hermione Granger, it should be noted, did not generally classify herself as someone who swore. But she had never been so horny in her entire life and mentally cursing at Malfoy seemed to relieve some of the frustration.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder at her.

"If I'm going to have sex with you once, Granger. I'm not going to do it while I'm angry."

Then he vanished into the darkened aisles.

Hermione stood there staring after him for several seconds.

Well, that was a lot of unexpected turns.

Draco Malfoy was so incredibly frustrating, ridiculously presumptuous, and unexpectedly—sweet. A term she had never expected to apply to him. All his inexplicable behavior suddenly made more sense.

One would think that a Slytherin, after crushing on a girl for ages, would jump at the opportunity to have sex with her in order to escape from a magical ward. That would be the reasonable assumption. But no—of course Malfoy would go decide to be noble and whatnot out of consideration for her supposed virginity.

She wasn't that virginal seeming, was she? Just because she wore practically fitted clothing and generally tried to follow rules didn't mean she also went about in starched knickers.

She sighed and leaned against a shelf as she mulled him over in her brain for what felt like the umpteenth time.

Good grief, had he really been holding out this whole time because he didn't want to pressure her because he thought she was a virgin? She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or insulted.

Where exactly did Draco Malfoy get off with being such a nasty, prickly, sharp-tongued git while secretly concealing the heart of a teddy bear?

She supposed, another pertinent point in all this was his magical memory abilities. Which meant that, for him, having sex with her was going to become a vivid, unfading memory for the rest of his life. She honestly wasn't sure whether he'd regard as being a good thing or completely awful. Maybe it would depend on how it went.

That would be enough to make anyone nervous.

It did make it understandable why he wouldn't want to be angry when they had sex. That would be a depressing memory to carry about for forever.

Thinking about all of that was causing strange tugging sensations to occur in Hermione's chest. Maybe she was catching some dimensional containment ward disease or it was a side effect from existing without aging for a month.

She mulled over the sex some more.

She—should probably try to be more considerate to Malfoy about all this. It was obviously a lot more emotional for him than for her. She could just be logical and pragmatic about it all, but out of consideration to him she would try to be sensitive.

She wandered around the history room trying to decide where the most logical place would be to have sex. In the end she stopped at the reading table. It was either that or basically anywhere on the floor. At least they 'd have options if she waited there.

It was extremely weird to be sitting on the edge of a table waiting and thinking about casually having sex with someone. Especially when that someone was Draco Malfoy.

Prior to Circe marrying them Hermione had thought about having sex with Draco Malfoy precisely never. Since then—she'd thought about it rather a lot.

She should probably be approaching it clinically: pop in and out, leave the ward, good working with you, Malfoy, goodbye. But, the truth was, she was nearly wriggling in her seat with excitement from the thought.

She wanted to have sex, specifically with Malfoy, for non-ward escaping purposes.

This rather surprised Hermione because she was really not the casual sex type. Relationships generally needed a lot of warming up before she was inclined to take the leap into bed. It wasn't just some itch she felt comfortable having any John or Dick scratching for her. In fact, generally speaking, it wasn't an itch she tended to notice.

Somehow spending all that time with Malfoy had turned him into someone she felt comfortable being sexually keen for. Which was a thought that should horrify her but didn't. He was nicer (and better at snogging) than she could have imagined.

Another point worth noting, she had always wanted to have sex in a library. And now she was going to get to—with a justifiable cause!—it was rather a dream come true. That detail was definitely having an effect upon her enthusiasm.

She didn't want the sex with him to be clinical. Or classified as an unfortunate workplace incident best forgotten. She wanted it to be hot, steamy, and excellent so she could keep it as a memory forever. And she wanted to offer the same experience to Malfoy since she knew it would be an event he'd never forget—

Even if he wanted to.

She stilled.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe he didn't want to do this. She didn't want him to feel cornered by her.

The realization of his exceptional memory had initially overwhelmed her with jealousy but the more she got to know him the more she realized what a burden he found it. A mind crowded with memories he didn't want.

Ever since she'd insulted him while they were re-warding he'd withdrawn.

Looking back, she realized she'd been the aggressor the whole time they'd been trapped there. The initiator of all their conversations. Of the kiss. Of the decision to have sex. She'd push for something and he'd give in. But—he hadn't actually solicited her attention in any way. He tended to vanish into aisles by himself and keep quiet until she sought him out.

Maybe he didn't want any more memories involving her. Possibly at all.

The thought twisted a bit inside her.

She slipped off the table where she'd been sitting and went to find him.

He was leaning against a bookshelf, staring pensively off into space.

Whatever he was thinking about it, it seemed to have taken him far away because he didn't notice her approaching until she got close. Then his expression abruptly changed, growing closed as he stared coolly down at her.

"Can't wait anymore? Something urgent you need to get to?" he asked in a flat voice.

Hermione stopped short, feeling stung.

She gnawed at her lip for a moment while she stared at him, trying to formulate what she wanted to say.

"No," she finally said. "I was just coming to find you to say we don't need to."

She felt cold as she said it and hugged herself as she continued. "You clearly don't feel comfortable with it. And I don't want to do that to you. We can just wait—It's fine. As you've noted, I live in a library. There's no one looking for me."

Her voice sounded bitter as she said the last words. She flushed. She hadn't meant to make it about her.

He was eyeing her sharply.

"Sorry," she said hurriedly. "I'm not trying to complain. I was just pointing that out so you wouldn't worry about it. This is obviously all a lot more complicated for you than it is for me. I understand that. You don't need to force yourself into anything on my account."

She gritted her teeth and added in a small voice.

"And I'll leave you alone from now on. I didn't realize—how memories were for you until now. You're clearly not really wanting any more with me. I'm sorry."

She turned to go. Maybe she'd go do the maths puzzle he'd told her about, that would keep her mind occupied for a bit. Then she could try mentally translating pepperup potion into Ancient Runes. Or go bother a ghost. Maybe they'd let her read or at least talk to her if she told them that their descendent was the one who didn't want to have sex with her.

"Granger..." Malfoy groaned. "You are the most frustrating person I have ever met. And I mean that both intellectually and sexually."

She stilled.

"Funny," she said in a brittle voice. "I feel the same way about you."

He was walking toward her. She could feel him approaching, but she didn't want to turn around and look at him. He was too frustrating to look at—both intellectually and sexually.

But her spine couldn't seem to help itself from tingling as he got closer.

"Do you really think I don't want to have sex with you?" he asked in a low voice over her shoulder.

She fought the urge to shiver.

"You haven't even talked to me in here without my initiating it," she said stiffly.

"Well... you did tell me that my conversation was nothing but vapid information and endless gossip."

"Yes, well, you were being rather horrendously mean to me at the time."

"I seem to recall being the one who initiated that kiss earlier." His mouth was very close to her ear and a shiver slid through her gut.

"Only after I practically demanded that you do it," she said, having to fight to keep her voice from sounding breathy.

"I assumed my interest in such things was already established."

"Well, it's not," she said, trying to ignore the flood of relief she was experiencing. "Just because you have a crush on me doesn't make it immediately obvious that you actually want to have anything to do with me. Especially given the number of times you've gone into extensive detail about how much you don't want anything to do with me."

"Yes, well, I'm a considerably better liar than you are." He was almost but not quite touching her and it was causing her spine to tingle every time he spoke.

"Then you shouldn't be surprised to hear that I don't know when you're telling the truth."

"Until a few hours or so ago I was under a truth charm. Everything I've said since we got trapped here is true."

Hermione hadn't really thought of that. She hadn't realized it until he'd started shouting at Circe, and then she had gotten rather distracted by the embarrassing revelation she hadn't been under an actual lust spell.

All the occasions when he'd gone stalking off, muttering under his breath suddenly made more sense. And how he'd never managed to get a full insult out when he'd gotten embarrassed about rambling.

"Not that being here with you an eternity isn't a delight..."

That sneaky scoundrel.

"For the record," his voice was suddenly very low and close to her ear. "despite how virginal and prudish I find you—"

Hermione bristled internally even as she fought against the urge to shiver as his breath ghosted over her skin.

"I am very attracted to you. I'm dying to fuck your brains out if you'll let me," he murmured as his hand slid along her neck and rested over her throat.

Hermione gave a shuddering moan as he brushed her hair to the side and started kissing his way along her neck.

She could barely keep standing as his other hand slid around her waist and pulled her firmly against himself.

"Is that a yes, Granger?"

"Yes..." she gasped, turning and crashing their lips together.

Nevermind the reading table, the floor would do well enough, or even against a book shelf. There was an arousing thought. Ugh, Merlin, she'd never wanted to shag anyone so much.

She rapidly shoved his robes off his shoulders and set to work unbuttoning his shirt. Maybe it was wanton of her, but if he called her virginal or prudish again she might bite him. She was eager to banish the illusion. She did not want any sweet, soft, sugary sex. She wanted hot, fiery, she-only-had-one-chance-to-live-out-her-fantasy-of-having-sex-in-a-library sex.

She wanted to sigh with relief when she got his shirt completely unbuttoned and relegated it onto the floor with his robes.

Seeker fit indeed.

She pushed him back against a bookshelf and pinned him there as she slid her hands along his shoulders and scraped her teeth over his left nipple so that he hissed.

"Merlin, Granger," he gasped in a strangled voice as she tweaked his other nipple with her fingers and then pressed herself against him, standing on her toes to pepper kisses along his clavicles. "You're quite determined to disabuse me of my miscomprehension regarding your maidenliness."

Only Draco Malfoy would use a five syllable word when a witch was licking her way down his torso.

She glared up at him.

"For Merlin's sake, shut up, you prat."