Hermione and Ron were at the library, in one of the newest wings, in which there were rows of soft, dark blue chairs, side-by-side, adjoining large glass windows constructed with magic wizardry.
She pulled his hand toward her, gesturing toward those comfortable seats; she found one and Ron sat on the cushioned chair next to her. Oddly enough, those chairs were 'single occupancy'—so only one student could sit on a chair—not two. Perhaps the professors didn't want students daydreaming or becoming frisky during the emerging spring season of bunnies, flowers, fertility, and overall…horniness.
Ron accio'd a newspaper and it arrived, flying smack into his crotch. He winced, and Hermione silently giggled to herself, reaching for her parchment on magical dwarves, tucked away in her tiny-yet-Mary Poppins-esque satchel. Once settled, she uttered a small sigh of nerdish contentment and began editing here and there, and marking bits of comments. Mostly, she just reread most of her notes, having started this writing project three months in advance.
Ron wasn't having such a fun time studying. His crotch sustained a tiny ego-bruising blow, and he could hardly concentrate on his oral exam work knowing the object of his affection was seated next to him, and mere inches away from his cock.
Feigning studiousness, he conjured the newspaper to unfurl itself and spread out in front of him, covering his body from sight save for his ankles, as he remained sitting.
Hermione's hand was perched on the seat rest on his left, and he took her hand; she smiled to herself and kept proofreading. He then drew it down to his pants, and he could feel Hermione's sidelong gaze and grinned cheekily. His hand guided hers to his crotch.
Hermione was editing her paper, it was springtime, she was in a new wing of the library, and her hand was on his crotch.
She smirked. Her lucky day. She began by massaging, moving her hand in gentle circles, slow, medium, and rapid, counter-clockwise and clockwise. Ron appeared to be completely absorbed in his work. How was that even possible? She surely had underestimated his extreme multi-tasking skills.
Hermione uttered a silencing charm and an invisibility charm, (and to be safe) an illusory charm. Now, it looked to all the world that she and her man were deep in study, covered with stacks of tax law books and books about 'slumduggery economics' that no one would want to step through, as they would reek to high heaven (thanks to her skilful abilities with illusory charms, as hers had sensory effects as well).
Hermione moved her hand upward to the rim of his pants, and delved inward to touch his raw, aching cock, which grew and deliciously hardened under her wickedly feminine touch.
She stroked, slower, and faster, as his legs began to tremble—just—a—bit. She saw him becoming slightly less composed, wriggling in his seat a bit more, and thrusting—just a tiny, tiny bit.
Ensuring the charms were still intact and the wall of books still stinking of slumduggery (to everyone but themselves), the coast was wonderfully clear. With her deft hands, she unzipped his pants, and removed his large cock from his trousers. He groaned again as his dick hit cool air, and Hermione placed it in her wanton mouth, now seasoned with delicious hints of strawberry and vanilla chai spice. She placed her silvery water all over his nether regions, as she milked him and sucked and he moaned.
She, ever-perceptive-could sense his apex; she thrust her tongue at his very tip and he came apart, his silvery, warm essence entering her livened, sensuous lips, swallowed in all its entirety.
It was days like these, that he loved studying in the library with Hermione.