so many ideas, my brain is overflowing. I hope you enjoy :)

two - the bathroom on the Hogwarts Express

For the next two weeks, she waits with bated breath, expecting someone to spread the news that Granger and Malfoy fucked like rabbits on the fourth floor. She half-expects him to spread the gossip himself, but she also knows the repercussions of that information. She is a Mudblood: dirty, horrible, his enemy. He is a Pureblood: superior, perfect, her enemy.

While it would be funny for his friends to hear the story of how he reduced her to whimpers and moans, it wouldn't be good in the long run. She is inferior and allowing himself to touch her was a clear lapse in judgement.

She actively avoids that corridor on the fourth floor, taking the long way to get to her classes. She is having dreams about him, about their tryst, and despite their agreement to never do it again, she aches for him. Therefore, if he is in her proximity, she cannot look at him. She sits in the Great Hall looking away so she does not see the Slytherin Table. She sits in the front of the classroom so she cannot see him. She pretends to focus on a book in the library when he's there.

Sometimes she wonders if he's having the same struggles, but she can't imagine him being this flustered over her — a Mudblood.

*.*.*.*.*

They make it through the rest of the year, and no one mentions their sexual encounter, not him, not her, no one. She's thankful. It would have caused plenty of problems.

The train ride home is quiet, as Harry is upset that he has to return to the Dursleys. Ron tries to encourage conversation, but Harry doesn't bite.

She is reading a book, as usual, and happens to look out the window at the right time to see him strolling by. They make eye contact for the first time in two weeks and it's like lightning shoots through her spine and directly into her groin. She bites back a groan and she feels her face flush. There's a falter in his step but he keeps going, past the window and on to where he was going.

Just looking at his face throws her back to that night — the way he suckled on her breast and bit her neck, the way he felt when he entered her, pounded into her, coming in her …

Fuck, now she's turned on and trapped on a train.

Neither Ron nor Harry seem to notice her predicament, for which she is grateful. She puts the bookmark to mark her place and slowly puts her book down.

She mumbles something to the boys about needed to pee and makes a beeline for the nearest loo. She goes in, locks the door, and leans against the sink. She takes deep breaths and turns on the faucet. The water runs through her fingers, trying to calm herself. She cannot be this turned on from a look, like god —

The lock clicks, the door opens, and she stops breathing.

He stands in the doorway for a second, then eases himself into the loo, and shuts it behind him. He deliberately locks it and casts a silencing spell too.

"You're not the only one who knows how to unlock a door," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over her face. She takes a ragged breath, her chest rising and brushing against his. He takes a small step forward, crowding her against the edge of the sink, and she automatically places her hands on his waist. Realizing her action, she blushes, and he smirks, his own hands moving up to cup her face, tilting it up towards his.

Before his lips touch hers, she whispers, "I thought we weren't doing this again."

He opens his eyes again, looking between her eyes and her lips. "Yeah."

That's all he says.

They kiss and she moans lightly, her desire stirring low in her groin. It's not as intense as last time, but it builds as his lips assault hers, and his tongue dances with hers, and he grips her face in one hand and her jean-covered arse in the other.

He is pressing her against the counter and the movement of the train pushes their bodies together in a rhythmic way that increases their desire. Soon they are shedding jackets and stepping out of shoes, and he's unbuttoning her jeans, pushing them down along with her underwear.

He drops down to his knees and pushes her legs apart. He whispers so quietly she can't quite hear him over the sound of the train, so she places her palm on the side of his face and tilts his head up. He looks up at her and admits, "I haven't stopped thinking about you."

She flushes from her chest to her ears and he nudges her legs even further apart. His hands grip her knees and kisses his way up the inside of her thigh. She can't actually believe he's about to go down on her, but here they are.

She leans against the counter, and she gasps when his nose brushes against her and his tongue darts out to lick up her pussy. Her hands grip the counter as she raises her hips to move against his mouth. He licks up and down before using his fingers to part her lips and thrust his tongue into her. She's warm and tight and she's moaning, her head thrown back against the mirror. He wiggles his tongue inside of her and moves his fingers from their grip on her hips to rest against her clit. She jerks against him, letting out a yelp, and he's very grateful for casting the muffliato.

He grins against her and eases her legs over his shoulders, effectively drowning him in her pussy. Unwilling to completely smother him, she doesn't lay her whole weight on him, so she grips the counter edge, holding herself up. She cries out when his teeth nip at her sensitive clit and his tongue soothes the spot. His thumb covers her clit and rubs lightly, and his tongue returns to inside of her.

One of her hands flies out when his tongue swirls inside of her, and she grips his hair, pressing his face against her. She's shamelessly humping his face now, moaning louder and louder until she practically screams when her orgasm takes over. She can't breathe but she can't stop moving against his face, prolonging the rush.

He helps her off of him and she's boneless, laying back against the counter with her eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile on her face. He grabs a paper towel from the dispenser and wipes off his face.

"Stop staring," she laughs and opens her eyes. He's smirking at his handiwork and plants kisses on her flushed neck.

She can feel his hard-on pressing into her thigh and even though she's so completely satisfied, she wants him again. She unbuttons and unzips his pants with one hand and grasps him through his boxers in the other. He groans into her neck. He's hard and heavy and she pets him with gentle fingers.

He pulls her hand away and pushes down his pants in one fluid motion. Eager, she thinks with a cocked eyebrow. He looks sheepish, like he could hear her thought, but does nothing to slow his movements. He pulls her flush against him, and she's still so wet from coming, it slicks his dick. She can feel the head rocking against her lips slowly, torturing her. She whines in her throat and takes ahold of his arm, squeezing tightly.

He gives in to her wants, and angles himself so he can enter her without issue. Her mouth drops open as he slides all the way in, practically to the hilt, and then lets out a strangled noise when the head of his cock brushes against that spot. She clenches around him and it almost does him in, so he pulls entirely out and pushes back in, effectively making it seem like she's being penetrated for the first time again and again. It's so good.

The train is still chugging along, everyone seemingly oblivious to the two of them being gone. The motion of the train rocks their bodies together and she whimpers when she wraps one of her legs around him and pushes the other against the locked door. He rocks into her rougher this time and he can't hold back the groan. He's going to lose it, so he needs to make her lose it too.

He leans down and kisses her soundly, and she arches her back into him. He grabs her hips and pulls them against his in quick motions. Her clit hits his pubic bone every time and she gasps, gasps, screams as she comes around him. He inhales sharply as she wraps herself around him and rides out the waves. He shouts as he start to let go, her pussy milking him for everything he can give. His hips move sloppily and his head rests against her shoulder.

Her fingers grasp the short hairs at the base of his neck and pulls down. His head tilts up and she kisses him softly. She nibbles on his bottom lip and sighs into his mouth. Sated, he slips out of her and enjoys the light kisses before he helps her to her feet.

He helps her clean up and casts the spells again (she wants to ask how he knows them, but she figures she doesn't want to know the answer) before tucking himself back into his boxers and pants.

She's sweated through her shirt and doesn't want to put on her clothes back on because she's warm enough, but she definitely doesn't have a choice. She puts her trainers back on and then sighs at the realization that they have to part ways as they've been gone for, she checks her watch — holy shit, a fucking hour.

He catches her chin in his hand and draws her lips to his again. He squeezes her hand and pulls away enough to look in her eyes but can still count the freckles on her nose. "See you in September."

He carefully exits the loo and she locks the door behind him. She tries to breath deeply, but the small room smells of sex and sweat and it just reminds her of their actions … their very, very wrong, but so fucking good, actions.

She turns on the faucet again and dampens a few paper towels with the cold water so she can wipe her face. She can't get rid of the bruised lips or the mused hair or the hickey that's growing on her neck, but she can cool down and collect herself.

His words, 'see you in September,' ring in her head. What the fuck was that? Was that him trying to be cool, unbothered, aloof? Will he see her like this in September or will they go back to verbal sparring only? Was it a promise that he will see her on the train on September 1st and they will fuck in this same bathroom?

She slowly unlocks the door and exits into the tiny hallway. People are chatting and laughing and so absorbed in themselves that no one notices how rosy her cheeks and ears are, or that she's been gone for an hour.

He must have been waiting for her to leave the bathroom because he's at the end of the train car, half-listening to the kid he's talking to. He smirks, but not at the boy, at her. Feeling bold, she winks back, and she can spot his boyish grin from a mile away before she turns to find the boys.

Oh yeah, it's a promise.