The sound of Wagner filled the air as Quirrell sat on his bed, Crime and Punishment laying in his lap. Nice, autumn day. He should have been outside, but he knew better. The outside brung terrors of water fights and screaming first years. He preferred the calm that his dormitory brung, his dormmates far off on the grounds somewhere, probably throwing dirt at each other. How childish. He heard footsteps coming up the stairs, dainty footsteps. Perhaps one of the first year girls had gotten lost? Oh well, wasn't his problem. There was a knock at his door, and he didn't bother to raise his head and check who it was, until he heard her voice. That nice, soft voice with a hint of a german/spanish accent. Angie. She walked in, giving the appearance of floating. He loved the way she walked, it was so regal, so noble, so stunning.

"You should be outside."

"Too many children outside. Too noisy."

She sat down on his bed, closing the door with a flick of her wand and a spell muttered under her breath. His gaze turned back to his book, turning the page and smirking. Rodya Raskolnikov never ceased to amaze him. Neither did Angie. She always managed to make everything look stunning, even the boring school robes looked marvellous on her.

"Crime and Punishment?"

"Yes."

He heard her sigh, and the small bang her shoes made as she slipped them off. With a small glance upwards, he saw her leaning out the window, looking down at the grounds. She could have been a princess, or at least nobility, he thought to himself as he slipped back into Dostoevskys world. He felt a slight disturbance, quickly looking away from the book and seeing her lying on the bed, curls everywhere. What on earth was she doing?

"Quirrell?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you stop reading for a moment and come outside? It's a lovely day."

"Too busy. Reading."

"Can't you read some other time?"

"No."

He seized up for a moment as he felt her willowy form slip behind him, draping her arms around his shoulders. It always felt a little strange, having such a pretty girl practically throw herself at him, but it was a feeling he could get used to. He tried his best to ignore her, now finding it very hard to continue reading with her body this close to his. He relaxed, pretending she was just a heavy coat. An extremely gorgeous, heavy coat that wanted to have it's way with him.

"Please?"

"No. Reading."

Oh god. He seized up again, trying to keep himself nonchalant as she laid kisses along his neck and shoulder. Musn't turn around, he told himself, that would mean she had won. i Keep reading, don't look back, keep reading. /i He felt her arms lift off his shoulders, and she moved off the bed. Thank god, he'd almost lost control of himself there. He heard the rustling of clothes, trying to concentrate on the book and the book alone. He didn't even allow himself a little peek. She was obviously just taking off her jumper. Before he could protest, there she was, sitting in his lap. He looked her over, trying not to seem a little shocked. Underwear...where were her clothes? With another flick of her wand, the door was locked. Nobody enters, nobody leaves. i I ... underwear... my god. /i The initial shock of seeing her underwear wore off, and he began admiring her. Black lace and silk against her creamy skin, it almost reminded him of a painting he had seen in Paris of some noble woman. She smirked, running a hand along his leg and looking up at him, obviously enjoying him trying to remain calm.

"Now?"

"Let me get my page."

Her laughter filled the room as he fumbled with the book, trying to remain calm. It wasn't working! Giving up, he threw the book over by his trunk and let her unbutton his shirt. Her hands felt warm against his skin as she slipped the shirt off, straddling him with a smile on her face. Why did he let her have so much power over him? Without thinking, he pulled her forward, pressing his lips to hers and wrapping his arms around her waist. She won. He loved feeling her lips against his, feeling her tongue slightly nudge against him, gently separating his lips and roaming his mouth. He let a hand trail down her leg, resting it on her smooth upper thigh. This was the high life, kissing Angie while listening to Wagner. The ultimate duo. Her hands roamed his chest, slowly making him feel like the luckiest man alive. She wanted him. He was just about to let his hand roam higher on her leg when a ball smashed into the window with a loud thud. Angie squealed and jumped off him, picking up what he figured was a quaffle and throwing it out the window before jumping onto the bed next to him and laughing. Damn it all, that bloody quaffle ruined the moment. He wanted her more than ever more. Bloody hell.

"I guess I should be going then."

"WHAT? Do you have to?"

"You've got books to read mister."

With a laugh, she climbed off the bed and put her clothes back on, grinning to herself as Quirrell stared at her. Slipping her feet back in her shoes, she moved over to him, pressing her lips to his one more time before buttoning up her shirt and moving towards the door. Why did she have to go?

"Don't have too much fun without me."

"Bye Angie."

She unlocked the door, slipping out into the corridor and shutting the door behind her. Damn it all. He waited until he was sure she was gone before getting up and locking the door, turning the music up as loud as he possibly could and settling himself on the bed. It was just him and Wagner against the world.