AN: My apologies for the two-month wait, my keyboard has not been working at all. I'm using a temporary solution at the moment so the next update might be a bit slow too, though hopefully not longer than a week. Please ignore any mistakes in this chappy; I wanted to post it as soon as possible for you all :] Also, happy New Year and I hope everyone had a great Christmas!

On a side note, what ficlets do you want to see next? Any particular pairing or scenario in mind? Let me know! The banner for the last chappy has been up for a while - and it's my personal favourite so far :D Anywho, Anna, here is your James/Hermione ficlet ;]

Title: Student Out Of Bed

Summary: Professor Granger is doing her night patrol around the Hogwarts Castle when she runs into the Head Boy who, apparently, just can't sleep.

Genre/s: Romance & Humour

Characters: [Hermione G. & James P.]

Rating: M

Warning/s: AU, OOC, professor/student relationship, small age difference, smut, language

Words: 2,664

Professor Hermione Granger sighed as she glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time.

She had been patrolling for almost three hours, having run into several students not in their dorms as they should be and instead either wandering the halls aimlessly or, more often than not, engaging in activities that she really would rather not have interrupted.

But it was her job as a teacher in this school to stop rule-breakers so stop them she would.

She was quite sure those Fifth Years had broken several rules, one of which being the law for underage sex, but she wouldn't tattle on them.

That would involve an embarrassing conversation on her part.

And frankly, deducting House points or dealing out detentions was much more satisfying.

I wonder if the age for sexual intercourse is different in the wizarding world, she thought idly. It had never occurred to her to check and, really, she'd had no need to do so upon entering the magical world not twelve years ago at age eleven.

She could only imagine Madam Pince's reaction if she had asked which library books discussed sexual intercourse and consent within the magical community.

As she walked through the corridors, she rubbed at her eyes. It had been a dreadfully long day. She'd been woken much earlier than she had intended to get up by some ruckus outside her quarters, which she then had to put a stop to and thus refrain from sleeping. And who else had been the cause of such chaos? Bloody James Potter and Sirius Black. Her eyes narrowed simply at the thought.

Even her lessons had passed by torturously slowly and, whenever it seemed she had a moment to spare, some student needed her advice or wanted to babble about some nonsense. She was at her wit's end by dinner time.

Her fellow professors had clearly understood her fatigue, leaving her alone to eat in silence. After dinner there were stacks of essays to go through and mark—she'd glanced at the clock every five minutes and at her bedroom door every two minutes.

And just when she decided to give up and go to sleep, she remembered that it was her turn to patrol the school corridors tonight.

It would be a vast understatement to suggest that she was anxious to get into bed.

The whole time she'd been on patrol, her feet had moved methodically without need to really pay attention. She knew this school like the back of her hand. If only she could get away with sleep-walking through the patrol…

Her face brightened now as she realised where she was.

Yes! Just these last few bends and the First Floor is done! Just the Ground Floor left and that shouldn't take too long, she gleefully thought.

And then her wonderful fantasy of her warm bed and comfy pyjamas was shattered as shoes squeaked abruptly against the floor just when she turned the corner.

One of the older students, a tall boy with thin rectangular glasses and wild ebony hair, stood with a piece of blank parchment in his hand and a badge attached to his robes.

She wanted to cry. Merlin's furry toes, not another student to scold.

"Just because you are Head Boy, Mr. Potter, does not mean you can simply wander the halls at night," she said sternly. "We have a curfew for a reason."

"Right, right," he nodded quickly. "Sorry, I did know that. I just… well, I can't sleep."

She gave him a sharp look. Honestly, is that supposed to excuse his behaviour? Internally sighing and wishing she didn't have to deal with this when she was so close to finishing her patrol, she decided to let him off with a warning.

"Mr. Potter, if you do not repeat this occurrence and go to bed immediately, I will not take any points."

He grinned brightly. "Really? Thanks, Professor! I mean, uh, sure, I promise it'll never happen again."

Though she didn't believe him in the slightest (What does he take me for? A drunk doxy?), she disregarded her better instincts and simply inclined her head.

She was scarcely older than the oldest students in the school, having been employed this very academic year at twenty-two years old. Often times she felt the need to act much older than her actual age, as not only was she ridiculously young in comparison to her colleagues but the students wouldn't take her seriously if she acted her real age.

Caught up in her thoughts, she realised a few seconds late that Potter was still stood there, staring at her with a strange expression on his admittedly handsome (Best not dwell on that…) face.

"I hope you do not need me to escort you to your own tower, Mr. Potter," she frowned at him. "I would assume after seven years that you would know your way around the school."

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine, but could I just, um, join you on your patrol?" he stammered out. "I really can't sleep."

Thoroughly impatient and irritated now, she sighed loudly. "Very well. I am almost finished. Do not dither and try to keep quiet. You will return to bed once I am done."

Grinning like he'd won the Quidditch World Cup, he nodded.

She tried to ignore his presence, preferring to pretend he wasn't there and she could therefore go to bed without any other aggravation hitting her.

It seemed he didn't reciprocate her feelings.

"It was my birthday yesterday, you know," he laughed nervously before rambling on. "Well, not yesterday—technically it would have been the day before yesterday now, I guess. But, uh…"

"Congratulations," she said stiffly, not sure what else to say. Why is he telling me this?

"Thanks," he smiled wide, running a hand through his already chaotic black hair. "I'm eighteen now," he stated.

She almost sighed. "Clearly."

"An adult." He sounded like he was making a point. She gave him a peculiar look. "Don't Muggles class eighteen as the start of adulthood?" Now he sounded worried.

"Yes, they do," she confirmed, outwardly bored with the conversation. Somewhere inside her head, a voice popped up to tease her: He's legal now.

He was quiet then, wandering along beside her. His voice was low when he spoke again. "Sorry about this morning."

She made a noise of acknowledgment but didn't say anything about forgiveness—it would be a lie after all. He interrupted her sleep. He could not be forgiven.

Her sharp gaze saw him peeking at her every few moments. They both said nothing.

When they turned a corner, his hand brushed along hers innocently, but it was enough to startle Hermione and she stumbled away from him. He caught her when she fell, his arms tight around her slim waist.

The sensation was rather thrilling. His hands were rough and his arms strong from countless Quidditch matches and he held her firmly, the heat of his fingers penetrating through her robes. She felt a bit faint. I haven't been held like this in a long time…

She looked up, her breathing heavy from her tumble, and she was locked in his gaze. He watched her with wide eyes, seemingly captivated, and she became quickly aware of how inappropriate this was. She pulled away and righted herself before continuing on without pause.

After a moment, he followed behind quietly, and she felt the burn of his stare in her back.

Stupid, she scolded herself furiously. He's a student! You're his professor, his guardian! He may flirt with you like he does most girls and he may even watch you a little too closely for mere platonic interest but that does not give you the right to enjoy silly fantasies that go against your moral code!

While lost in her fierce self-disapproval, he had started to talk again.

"You look very lovely today, Professor," he smiled crookedly.

She gave him a side-glance and nothing more, resisting the urge to blush like—well, like a school girl.

"If I may ask," he began charmingly, "how old are you?"

She sputtered. "That is entirely none of your business, Mr. Potter!"

"No, no, of course not," he backtracked quickly, ruffling his hair again. "I just wondered… um… that is, do you think we could—"

"Mr. Potter," she interrupted and he swung round to look at her eagerly, "my patrol is over. It's time for you to go to bed."

He deflated. "Right. Uh, could I walk with you back upstairs?"

Wanting to scream at him to go away, she refrained and thought logically, I suppose his Common Room is on the Seventh Floor and my quarters are on the way.

"Fine," she replied shortly and swiftly turned on her heel back towards the Grand Staircase.

He jogged to catch up with her and ran a hand through his hair again.

She watched him from the corner of her eye secretly, eyeing his lithe body and handsome face, lingering on his exposed forearms from where he'll roll up his sleeves to his elbows, glancing at the loose tie slung around his neck. Unable to stop herself, she entertained fantasies of him walking in front of her so that she could stare at his tight arse. She bit her tongue harshly.

The walk to her quarters was silent and quick. Hermione was eager to leave the Head Boy's presence lest she do something inappropriate.

Her door was in plain sight, just a few feet away, when a strong hand grabbed hers quickly and turned her around. James caged her within his arms, pushing her back gently against the wall and she gasped.

"Mr. Potter, this is entirely—" she began to protest, struggling.

But his lips silenced her and in her shock she kissed him back automatically.

He tasted wonderful, she noted. Like chocolate and vanilla. Must be something he ate.

After a moment, she realised that she really wasn't protesting anymore, nor trying to push him away. Instead, her arms had crept up without her knowledge and wrapped themselves around his shoulders. Traitors!

She tried to convince herself that she wasn't enjoying this and that, really, she should be a responsible adult and stop all this nonsense. But her tongue betrayed her, slipping into his mouth to dual battle with his.

They stumbled towards the door to her quarters blindly. Just when she felt the doorknob jab into her back, he pulled away from her, his glasses askew.

"I'm sorry," he panted, "I shouldn't have—"

But she had already unlocked her door and pulled him inside, shutting it behind him.

He blinked with surprise, seeming astonished that she had let him into her quarters, but she didn't let him speak. If he did, she'd likely lose her nerve. She pulled him to her quickly and kissed him.

With surprising dominance, he pressed her against the wall, his lips still secured to hers, and held her wrists up either side of her head. She moaned beneath him. When he deviated from her mouth to kiss down her neck, she hitched one of her thighs up around his hip to pull him closer.

"You—" he placed a kiss on her collarbone "—are so—" kiss "—beautiful." Kiss.

She pushed her hips against his more firmly.

"Shut up," she said breathlessly and snogged him again with much hunger.

He pulled back determinedly. His eyes swirled with mischief and raw lust. "Oh no, I'm going to worship your body all night and you'll be helpless to stop me." He sucked on her pulse hard and she whimpered once, her hands clenching into fists above her.

"I think you should remember," she murmured, "that little boys do as they're told."

In a flash, James was laying on her bed, spread-eagle, his arms and legs restrained by an invisible force. He gaped at her in awe and she smirked. I do love a little wandless non-verbal magic.

She sauntered towards him slowly, enjoying having this delectable young man under her control. He still wore only his trousers, the muscles in his chest and arms making her mouth water, and nothing could conceal the bulge at his groin. His hazel eyes were locked on her.

Standing at the foot of the bed, she reached beneath her robes and slyly slipped her lacy knickers down her legs. As the lingerie revealed itself and was flung delicately onto the floor, James made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

Hermione felt a rush of satisfaction. She'd never been particularly active or adventurous in her sexual exploits during the past, and she'd certainly never been with someone years younger than her; she was mildly surprised at how the sense of power excited her, how adored she felt from this young man's attention.

She climbed upon the bed beside him and stroked his bare torso. He shuddered at her touch and continued to look up at her pleadingly. With a coy smile, she leaned down and brushed her lips against his. He kissed back desperately, nearly whining when she stopped.

Shifting the material of her robes further up her legs, she moved the straddle him, her thighs either side his hips, sitting herself comfortably upon his crotch. He weakly bucked upward into her, his eyes fixed on hers. She took pity on him and took off her robes carefully, maintaining her position. The clothing was piled onto the floor beside the bed messily, but she paid it no mind. She would tidy up later.

Now that she was naked, James' eyes were wide, his mouth open, and his member strained beneath her even more so. She leaned down and pressed kisses into his abdomen, his chest, his collarbone, then finally his lips.

When she pulled back, his neck arched to follow but was unable to. "Please," he begged throatily. She wasn't entirely sure what he wanted exactly but she could take a good guess.

She turned herself so that she faced his feet and scooted backwards until her core rested over his mouth. Without hesitation, his tongue touched her swollen folds and lapped at her wetness. She groaned but concentrated on undoing his belt and trousers.

They slipped over his slim hips easily then he helped her by kicking them down and off his legs. She studied his privates with a smirk. It pulsed and stood to attention. While James was busy pleasing her, she leant down and licked a line down his member. He groaned quietly.

She wasn't a huge fan of foreplay but decided he deserved a treat after going through all the trouble of seducing her. Gently, she slipped the crown of his head into her wet mouth and suckled.

Shudders ran up his torso as he paused his ministrations on her. "Fuck, that's good," he murmured and continued to kiss and lick at her folds.

Her hands rubbed along the base of his erection, stroking the skin hard enough to make his pelvis jerk, while she sucked more of him into her mouth. His own lips encircled her nub, his tongue nudging at the spongy button, and she moaned around him.

She must have inadvertently increased the pressure of her suction, because he suddenly shouted out with pleasure, holding her hips tight above him as fluid streamed into her mouth. Though surprised, she caressed him with her tongue and swallowed once he was finished. She licked him clean.

Then she realised that he had gone still beneath her, his fingers no longer gripping her hips and his mouth no longer attached to her lower regions. She sat up quickly and moved herself off of him. With great shock and disgruntlement, she saw that he had dozed off in the aftermath of his coital bliss. She poked and prodded at him, but he was too far into unconsciousness to be easily roused.

Her brown eyes narrowed and she scoffed. "So much for not being able to sleep. Git."