The day after Harry realized that maybe his feelings for Hermione weren't quite platonic anymore, he found that suddenly everything Hermione did was driving him bloody insane. At breakfast she actually licked the jam off the end of her butter knife. In Transfiguration Harry was so distracted by her chewing her quill that he almost fell off his chair when Professor McGonagall asked him a question. In Potions he missed a whole step in brewing his Draught because Hermione had stood on her tiptoes to look into her cauldron and her thighs had been exposed again.

And now, in the hallway after their last class of the day, she was walking slightly ahead of him and Ron, and… Merlin, had she always looked that way when she walked?

"Ron, there's something I want to talk to Hermione about. I'll see you later, yeah?" Harry found himself saying, though there was nothing he particularly wanted to talk about.

Ron gave him a disbelieving look. "Yeah, okay mate," he said, but did not sound convinced.

"Thanks," Harry said, already speeding up to catch up with Hermione. He grabbed her by the elbow to turn down the corridor to their right and Ron kept walking.

"Harry, wha…?" But Hermione didn't get a chance to finish her question, because Harry had pulled her through the first door he had seen, and closed the door behind them.

Only to be plunged into semi-darkness. He had pulled them into what happened to be a broom closet. Hermione tried again. "Harry, what on earth…"

But Harry had cut her off again, this time with his mouth. Harry was kissing her, kissing Hermione, and after one shocked moment she was kissing him back. He pushed he up against one of the walls, nerves tingling, one hand buried in her hair and the other cupping her face, knocking over several brooms and buckets which clattered loudly to the floor. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket, mumbling a quick spell to lock the door and a muffliato under his breath, before pocketing it and pulling Hermione flush against him by the waist.

He wanted to devour her. His tongue traced her bottom lip, and then his tongue was in her mouth and he could taste her. He broke away, trailing kisses from her jaw to her ear, and then down her neck, one hand traveling down to her thigh, and it was softer than he had even imagined. Then Hermione moaned and Harry's hands traveled upwards, roaming her body, trying to pull her closer and closer against him. He fumbled with her tie, loosening it and unbuttoning the top of her blouse to gain access to her collarbone. He found himself with one hand on her breast, and he could feel her hardened nipple through the fabric. The other hand had untucked her shirt and slid underneath, and the skin on her abdomen was even softer than the skin on her thighs. He found her lips again and gave her a bruising kiss, still up against the wall, and Hermione was clutching Harry's forearms, trembling slightly, and Harry felt great satisfaction in knowing that he was the one who had had that effect on her.

He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and grinded himself against her, hands roaming and tangling in her hair and just reveling in the feel of her with him like this. Her hands had tangled in his hair and Harry felt like his whole world was on fire.

"Hermione…" he groaned against her mouth. But this was a mistake, because Hermione abruptly pulled away from him, panting, unhooking her legs from around his waist and stumbling to stand on her own.

Dazed and disheveled, face red and hair positively wild, trembling slightly, she looked more beautiful than Harry had ever seen her.

"What was that?" she asked in wonder, eyes widening as she looked at Harry.

The reality of what Harry had just done came crashing down around him. What had he just done? What could have possibly possessed him to pull Hermione into a broom closet and have his wicked way with her? Panic started rising in his chest, but then he realized, she kissed me back.

And then he couldn't help but to feel positively giddy. So all he did in response was to grin at Hermione his lopsided grin, and her face flushed even redder. "Hermione, I…"

And then the door was wrenched open – they hadn't even heard someone cast Alohomora – and Ron was looking wildly back and forth between the two of them.

Looking furious, ears tinged red, Ron said pointedly to Harry, "So you wanted to talk with her, did you?" When he was met with silence, Hermione's face steadily turning the same shade of red as Ron's hair, he continued, "It's getting late, are you two coming to dinner or not?"

They shuffled out of the broom closet, Hermione tucking in her shirt and fixing her tie and looking distinctly guilty, Harry trying to suppress his smile in the awkward aftermath of being caught, Ron looking so red steam might begin to blow out of his ears. Hermione shot him a questioning glance, and Harry just shrugged, interlacing their fingers as the Trio made their way to the Great Hall.

"How did you know Ron would come looking for us?" Hermione asked later that evening. "I thought we weren't going to keep up this ruse any longer, I thought no more pretending…" Her brow furrowed adorably, and Harry's heart panged because he wasn't pretending. Not anymore.