Harry saw Ron and Hermione sneak in to the classroom extremely sheepishly, and there was no doubt in his mind what they were up to. He felt happy for them, but at the same time there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind, saying, "you should really be paying attention to what you best friends are doing," but he hadn't the energy. After all, he was too preoccupied with the mysterious life of this goddess-like girl sitting next to him. He turned his head inconspicuously to look at her, making it seem like he was paying attention while really watching her every move. He could hear Snape's voice droning in the background about the healing properties of essence of murtlap tentacles, which he already knew about, having to use them in his fifth year. But unlike him, Paris was taking diligent notes. He studied her features, her dark purple eyes, framed with thick black lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows, her small nose, and her full, bruised lips. He loved the way her shiny, dark hair reflected the tiny lights around the classroom when she leaned her head over her parchment as she scribbled notes.

"Potter," Snape drawled, in a menacing voice. "What are we discussing right now?"

"Erm...Murtlap tentacles, sir. And how the essence of them provides relief for cuts and burns."

"Very well." Snape gave a last glare over his hooked nose at him, and began talking in the same monotonous voice that had put him to sleep during class so often in the past seven years. And with the lack of sleep he had gotten last night, kit was increasingly difficult to stay awake. But soon enough, people were putting away heir parchment and quills, and scurrying out of the classroom. Paris was the fist to leave, and Harry didn't see her until supper. She sat next to him again, probably because he was the only one that talked to her. The girls were jealous of her stunning looks, and the boys knew she was too good for any of them. He had even heard gossip in the halls: "That Paris girl, what a stuck-up bitch! She doesn't talk to anyone!" He felt a wave of sympathy for her.

She was picking at her salad when he turned his attention back on her. "So that's how she stays so thin. She hardly ever eats," he noted, sorrowfully. This girl was forcing herself to deal with her problems alone, and Harry knew that she needed his help. And from the way she looked at him now and then, he was sure that she knew it, too.

And so it went, for a couple of days. Harry began to wonder how she reacted with other students. Was she this quiet, or did she talk to them and just...not him? He proceeded in asking Hermione, who shared a dormitory with the mysterious but alluring girl.

"Well," Hermione said, choosing her words carefully. "She's è bit...reclusive, like. She never really does talk to anyone. I feel bad for her, so I try and make small talk, but she answers with short answers, and then turns away. You can't get a conversation out of that girl."

Harry nodded contemplatively. He knew all too well what she was talking about.

"You know, she did ask me for a good charm for under-eye bags," Hermione added, on an afterthought. "I gave her some, but...doesn't do much, does it?"

"No, I suppose not. Do you ever see her sleep?" Harry asked, concernedly. You couldn't live without sleep. And Paris, he suspected, got hardly any, if that.

"She's always writing when I fall asleep. I got a glimpse at some of her parchment. All poetry. Quite good, actually. Love, and...entrapment, death. Depressing, if you ask me."

"Seems like you got a bit more than a 'glimpse', 'Mione," Harry said, dryly. Snooping didn't seem too mature, and they were seventeen.
"I was curious. It's hard not to be, the way she acts," she snapped defensively. Harry flinched at the tone of her voice. The last thing he wanted to do was get one of his best friends mad at him. Her voice softened as she added, "look, I have to meet Ron in the library. Would you like to join me?"

"No, that's all right. I'm going to...get some schoolwork done." He smiled at her encouragingly. "Go on. I'm sure he's waiting for you."

"Well, if you're sure," she said, turning to go. Harry and Hermione's relationship was at the point where she knew that "going to do schoolwork" really meant going to find Paris, and she knew that "meeting Ron in the library" meant hooking up with Ron in the library.

She walked briskly away, her straight hair flying behind her as she moved. Harry watched her go, thinking hard about what they had just talked about. He hadn't realized that he wasn't moving until a tall blonde figure rammed into him only seconds after Hermione had voiced out of sight. It was Draco Malfoy. He motioned towards the direction Hermione had jut vanished and said, "So, Potter, you going with that Mudblood? I knew you two would give in sooner or later." He laughed maliciously.

"No, Malfoy, I'm not dating her. Ron is," Harry corrected, without thinking.

"The Weasel and Granger, eh? Well, we'll see how long that lasts, wont we?" He slapped Harry hard on the back. Harry winced slightly at the unexpected pain. Malfoy swept away with Crabbe and Goyle cackling at Draco's apparent wit.

All the while that was going on, Ron and Hermione had met in the library. "Ready for studying?" Ron asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"Of course," she said, laughing, as he pulled her in for è full lipped kiss. Hermione pulled away, checking to see if Madam Pince was anywhere to be found. The entire library was empty. They resumed kissing and Ron clutched her ass suggestively. Before long, their robes were shed and they were sliding along the bookshelves. He fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and she pulled his over his head. Her skirt went up and his pants went down. He tugged at her panties, and she guided his hands, slipping them down to her ankles. She kicked them off and slid his boxers down. They were added to the pile of their clothing, strewn haphazardly in the reference section. They grinded together, pushed against the wall. She loved the feeling of him against her. She could feel him throbbing with desire. All that was left was her bra. He put his hands around her back and unclasped it, sliding of her shoulders and tossed it aside. Now they were both fully naked, rubbing their hands all over the other's body. He slipped a hand down and massaged her until she moaned. He slowly slid a finder in, loosening her up for what he hoped would come. She gasped, already breathless, and he sucked her neck. The heat from his body was radiating, and she wanted more. She pressed her body into his. He whispered seductively in her ear. She relented and giggled nervously. He slipped his finger out, and went onto working himself in, as gently as possible. He was halfway in when she dug her nails into his shoulders and moaned. "Holy shit." He paused, not moving, while her fingers relaxed. He slid all the way in and she groaned. This new experience was more delicious than she had ever imagined. He came out and pushed back in, full force, and she moaned loudly with more pleasure that she'd ever experienced. They fell to the floor in oblivious ecstasy and he continually slid in and out of her. She was almost screaming his name, not wanting him to stop, ever. The pleasure just kept growing with every thrust of his hips and soon they were rocking in the same motion, slowing down so she could reach her peak without pain. Ron gave a pleasured sigh as he reached his, but stayed in her until she was done squealing, and she lay of him breathing hard, and uttered her last moan.

Thy lay there for minutes, catching their breath and thinking happily about what they had just experienced before getting dressed.