Everything belongs to the lovely and brilliant J. K. Rowling.

It wasn't uncommon for a person who knew where to look to find young couples tucked away in the darker corners of the Hogwarts' library, engaged in amorous activities. There were always places to hide among the towering shelves and musty old books in the shadows where, if you were quiet enough, even someone walking right past would never notice you. And in a boarding school full of teenagers with very human urges and impulses, it was expected that those secret nooks and crannies were used for things like snogging, and nuzzling, and, well- it would suffice to say that Hermione Granger had seen people doing more than snogging and nuzzling in the library before.

She thought she handled it quite well when she accidentally glimpsed such things- she pretended she hadn't see anything and turned her back on the scene, slowly walking away as if she wasn't mentally horrified.

It wasn't sex she had a problem with, of course- it was perfectly natural, and seemed… perfectly enjoyable. It was more the idea of doing such a thing in public. She knew that she'd never do something like that in a place where it was even remotely possible someone could see her. It was appallingly horrific to even imagine, and the very thought made spots of red appear high on her cheekbones in silent embarrassment.

Even at sixteen the reasoning some people put behind fornicating in public places made close to no sense to her. For the thrill of it, maybe? She could perhaps understand that, rushes of adrenaline, racing heartbeats. That might be enough to entice young couples into exposing themselves. Not her, obviously, but most young couples.

But by now she'd learned how to avoid actually seeing things. She listened carefully, and avoided looking at the shadowy places. She kept her eyes on the books, and away from any potential couple-spots.

She hadn't happened upon anything unsightly all year, thankfully.

This particular day, she was in a foul mood. She seemed to be in one constantly though, recently at least.

She refused to think that it had been since Ron and Lavender had taken to snogging graphically in the Common Room.

The majority of the Saturday had been spent yanking books off their shelves, angrily flipping through the pages without actually absorbing material, and shoving them back into place unceremoniously. She'd finished all of her homework twice over already, and now there seemed to be close to nothing to do.

When did teachers start assigning so little homework that it didn't even carry her over all the way through to Sunday? Or at least Saturday afternoon?

She'd just been returning The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know to its shelf when she heard a sort of chuckle from her left. Despite her better judgment, her head tilted slightly to the side, and he gaze fell on the all too familiar form of Draco Malfoy.

He was lounging in a seat, at a table half hidden in shadows, with that same lazy grace he always seemed to have.

He also looked more disheveled than usual. His silver and green tie was loose, his robes were thrown over the back of the chair next to him, leaving him looking utterly gorgeous (Even she had to admit it) in a rumpled white shirt (With the top buttons undone. Dear Merlin- with the top button undone.) and his black trousers. His pale fingers, twitched a greeting to her, his thin lips stretched in a smirk. "Whimpering over Weasley's new… interest, Granger?"

Hermione couldn't stop the way she instantly tensed up, shoulders tightening and automatically moving upward a bit. He's not worth it, she told herself, not worth it. She finished slotting her book into its place, and tried to be subtle about the way her eyes skimmed over the books he had spread out in front of him.

Malfoy must have seen it, though, because his pale hands were already spreading parchment out over the book, in a natural, 'don't mind me, I'm just work on homework', sort of way. Hermione wasn't sure she was buying it- and she knew that Harry would be seriously suspicious and want to know about whatever Malfoy was reading- but she let it go anyway. She wasn't Harry- and she certainly didn't want to encourage the obsessive behavior he'd been displaying recently. Malfoy was just being the same snide little git he'd always been- nothing more. Although perhaps it wouldn't hurt to mention to him that she'd seen the object of his obsession reading something.

"Of course not. Ronald can take interest with whoever he'd like to." She snapped in response, for some reason not able to just walk away and let him think what he would.

The smirk only grew more, as Malfoy tilted his head backward a bit, exposing his pale, really truly lovely throat, "Mhm. I'm sure he can. But how does that make you feel, Granger?" His voice was silky smooth and dripping sarcasm.

A muscle in her cheek twitched. She could feel it. "None of your damn business, you disgusting bigot."

"Mudblood."

"Inbred."

"Bitch."

"Imbecile."

There was a flush high on Hermione's cheekbones, and she'd taken several steps closer to Malfoy's table, planting her hands furiously onto the polished wood surface and glaring down into his pale gray eyes.

He sneered up at her, and then slowly stood, so that she found herself glaring at his sharp nose, not into his eyes. Before she had the opportunity to step back from him and the table (Because they had both been leaning forward over it and she did not like being that close to him.) Malfoy's pale hands had snaked forward, and tightly gripped the hair at the back of her head.

Her initial reflex, obviously, was to yank back, but just as she tried he yanked her forward, and their lips crashed together.

For several long moments her mind was racing. He lips sealed closed tightly, a hard line while Malfoy's insistently pressed against them, trying to coax a reaction. Her hands moved up, to his biceps, with the intention to shove him away, but… the something sort of snapped inside of her. And she could see Ron kissing Lavender as if he needed it as much as oxygen, and before she knew it, she was kissing Malfoy in the same way, hard and eager, nails digging into his upper arms, eyes closed, throat releasing little whimpers and moans for the gorgeous blond to drink up.

She definitely wasn't telling Harry anything about Malfoy.

Just a little something for the lovely Queen-Wolfi, who was the 175th reviewer on my story Operation: Black, and asked for a Draco/Hermione oneshot. Hope she likes it. Love you Wolfi! Hope you like it lots, and I'm so sorry it took so long to get it done for you!