Warning:SPOILER ALERT. Kissing and stuff. We have to earn that M rating after all.

o - o - o - o - o

Adrian wrapped an arm loosely around Hermione's waist, molded himself around her form as he pressed his lips to her skin again.

She exhaled lightly, turned in his direction, moved one of her hands to place it over his chest, the other to link with his free hand that was inching towards her knees, tugged him closer.

Adrian gladly complied, kissing her shoulder lightly, swiping his tongue over her bare skin.

Hermione shuddered, closed her eyes, and moved further into him.

Adrian continued kissing her shoulder, up her neck, over her jaws, before finally pressing his lips against hers once more.

Hermione shifted in her seat as she returned the kiss, folding up a knee in an attempt to bridge the distance between them, uncaring of her skirt hitching up.

"I've missed you, did you know," she confessed in between soft pecks from her sweet lips.

Adrian wrapped his arm more firmly around her, deepened the kiss to show her how much he missed her. Because he wasn't at Hogwarts for Slughorn's party; there was no point in pretending that he was at the school for any reason other than the one that was compelling him to drown in her.

She was so, so very close to him. And yet every bit of distance between them felt like it was too much to bear. He splayed a hand across her lower back, coaxed her closer, moved his other hand that she was still clutching to rest on her knee.

They couldn't remain that way for too long. Her hand travelled from his chest to his neck to his arm to his face, her touch light and exploratory and setting his skin on fire. His arm tightened around her waist, caressed her back, toyed with her hair, needing more and more of her. Their joined hands seemed to have a language of their own as they clutched at each other, moving from her knee to his and to hers again.

And their lips were never more than a breath away.

The chill of the winter air eventually demanded they pull away from each other. And Adrian, his heart pumping with warmth and want, returned the almost-coy smile Hermione flashed at him with a sinful one of his own.

Hermione had also migrated from sitting like a respectable young lady on the bench to straddling Adrian's lap, her skirt bunched up at her thighs, her bare legs exposed to the elements. And he tightened his hold on her when she demurely attempted to move back to the bench.

"I'm cold," he purred, needy, lightly caressing the soft curves at her waist.

She huffed out a breath, then smiled, shook her head. "I really am cold," she said. "My legs are going to freeze," she added, reaching down with a hand to one of her legs.

Adrian wandlessly warmed the palms of his hands, followed her hand with one of his, wrapped a gentle fist around her ankle, and then started slowly, softly rubbing up and down one of her legs, his eyes on hers the entire time.

Hermione bit her lip, lowered her face to press it against his neck. "That's very convenient," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. Then she wrapped her arms around his shoulder, pressed closer to him, and Adrian felt the gentle heat of her Warming Charm envelop him.

He moved his other hand to her other leg, pulled her closer to him as they continued to trade warmth.

Adrian's hands glided from her ankle to her knee and back again, a few times, in a rhythm dictated solely by the sound of her breathing by his ear. When her hands moved from his shoulders to caress his hair, he locked his hands behind her bare knees.

Hermione pulled her head back, just enough to kiss him again.

Adrian left one hand right above her knee, moved the other to her neck to angle her, angle himself to delve into her mouth and savour the sweet aftertaste of the mead and the addictive intoxication that was all Hermione. He swirled his tongue around hers, trying to, for all intents and purposes, become one with her.

Their lips parted, their breaths heavy. And seated as she was on his lap, he could not resist the temptation of her bare neck that was right before his eyes. He trailed a slow path downwards – starting by affectionately pecking her cheek as though to tell her all the things he couldn't yet articulate, studying the fine structure of her jawline with his lips, tasting the heat and the flush of her neck, mapping the hollow of her collarbone with his tongue, teeth just grazing her throbbing pulse and his cock begging for attention at the sound of her answering moan. And his hand at her knee was already rubbing her bare thigh.

He let his lips linger a moment right above the neckline of her dress, tongue swiping out to lick the slight sweat close to her cleavage, observing with unreserved fascination the heaving of her breasts below. He then pulled back to look at her face. "Enjoying yourself?" he asked, smiling with smug satisfaction at the far-gone daze in her eyes.

Her eyes blazed as she looked at him. Gaze locked with him then, her hand trailed down from his shoulder, deliberately caressing over his chest, glided to his waist, to his thighs.

Oh so very close to his hardness that his breath stuttered at her boldness.

She leaned closer until their noses touched gently. "As much as you are," she breathed, a dash of pure feminine pride evident in her tone as she squeezed his thigh and his cock pulsed in anticipation.

His hands gripped her a little harder, and he pressed a sudden firm and desperate kiss to her lips. "I'll enjoy it even more if you let me pull down your dress," he said.

Her hand retreated back to his shoulder, and she turned her eyes down to his chest. "What – what would you do if I let you?" she asked, her boldness only going so far.

Smiling fondly at her reserve, he gently brushed his knuckles across her cheek. "I'd like to know if your blush extends all the way down to your nipples," he said, slow and sensual. "But the more important question is, what would you like me to do, Hermione?"

She closed her eyes, melted against him. "I'd like you to find out," she whispered.

The flush of her breasts wasn't really noticeable in the darkness, but Adrian was not too inclined to wonder about it with her nipple in his mouth.

She squirmed in his lap as he licked languidly at her peak, his one hand warming her other still-covered breast, his other hand caressing her bare thigh.

He released her hard peak with a satisfying pop. "I want to touch you," he said, hushed, squeezing her thigh to indicate his intent. "Let me touch you? Let me feel you?" And he so very much wanted to touch her, all of her in every which way she would let him.

She licked her lips, then nodded in answer.

He slid a hand up her thigh, slowly, savouring the building need in her flushed face and her laboured breathing. All the way until his fingers ghosted over her crotch, while his eyes remained trained on her face.

He pressed his fingers over her knickers, something lacy if the texture was anything to go by, felt her warm and so fucking wet through it. He kept his touch light and tentative and over the fabric until she pressed her hips down to his fingers. Moving aside the lace then, he started exploring her folds, simultaneously letting his other hand and his still-eager mouth return to her breasts.

He was aching by the time she came, grinding against his fingers, moaning his name in his ears interspersed between more intense swearing than he had ever heard from her before.

And then Hermione fell against him once more, and Adrian attempted to meditate to the stillness of the lake, wondering what was a decent way to tell her he really, really needed to deal with his arousal.

He found himself jerking suddenly where he sat, at the feel of her light touch over his clothed cock.

"Sorry," she said, biting her lip as her hand hovered over his thighs. "Can I touch you?" she breathed, her want unconcealed. And wasn't that the hottest thing anyone ever said to him.

He nodded mutely, his breathing already picking up pace.

Her hand pressed against the outline of his cock, and he leaned back in his seat, exhaled lightly as he watched her take him into her hands. It took some manoeuvring for them to free his member, as they attempted to do so without putting any distance between them.

He wasn't going to last.

Not when she shyly asked him to show how her how he wanted her to touch him. Not when her eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, jumped between his cock and his face as she studied his reactions. Not when she swiped a thumb over the wetness at his over-sensitive tip and he took in a ragged breathing to keep from begging her to stop teasing him.

It didn't take long at all for him to spill into her hands.

They cleaned each other up, fixed their robes.

Hermione remained on his lap, tucked herself more securely into his arms.

And Adrian firmly locked his arms around her, did not have the heart to pull out his watch.

"That sounds like a nice holiday," Adrian said.

Hermione scoffed softly. "It might have been, if I cared at all for skiing."

"Find a fireplace afterwards," he suggested languidly. "And a good book, and a cup of hot chocolate."

"That would be nice," she murmured. "What are your plans?"

"Ideally? I'd like to join you in front of that fireplace," he said.

She pressed closer into his neck, gently poked at his chest.

He sighed lightly. "I'm afraid my holidays are going to be much more boring," he said. A trip to Europe was not in the calendar for him. "I'll catch up with friends when I can, but I'll likely be lounging at home for most of it."

"In front of a fireplace?" she asked, teasing. "With a good book? And a cup of hot chocolate?"

He smiled into her hair, gently poked her middle. "Sounds to me like we should find a common fireplace."

The night was silent and peacefully still. Under the light of the moon reflected back from the lake, Adrian cupped Hermione's face in his hands, kissed her softly, gently, infusing the press of his lips against hers with the promise of more. As much as he wanted to renew his Confunding and Alarm Charms and convince her to refresh her Warming Charms, as much as he wanted to spend an eternity in that moment, they were already on borrowed time.

Hermione intertwined her fingers with his, and they started a slow, reluctant trek up from the lakeside towards the castle.

They headed towards Gryffindor tower because Hermione had no desire to return to the party. The corridors of the castle were blissfully empty and the only sound was the rhythmic beat of their steps as they walked up the castle.

Was it the end of the night already? His grip on her tightened unconsciously at the thought. There were things he wanted… All he really did, however, was continually steal glances at her profile as they walked.

She noticed his eyes on her, and she pushed her curls behind her ear, a contended smile on her face as she inched closer to him.

They reached the entrance to Gryffindor tower in silence. Once there, Hermione quickly pressed her lips to his, then attempted to wake up the Fat Lady from her portrait-sleep.

The Fat Lady, grumpy at being disturbed from her slumber at that hour, narrowed her eyes at their linked hands. And even though Hermione promptly provided the password for entry, the Fat Lady started to give them a piece of her mind, apparently refusing to let Hermione in before she had her say.

Raising both his eyebrows at her too-verbose rebuke and even partly egged on by it, Adrian turned to thoroughly snog Hermione in front of the Fat Lady, pulling back only when the portrait swung open. The Fat Lady gave up her lecture and ordered Hermione inside right this instant, and Hermione was chortling too hard to kiss him back.

When her mirth subsided, Hermione smiled gently at him. "I'll see you soon," she said.

Adrian pressed a kiss to her brow. "Soon," he affirmed, soft and for her ears alone.

Adrian returned to the party at Slughorn's office after seeing Hermione off to Gryffindor tower. Madam Pucey was still there, to his slight surprise, and he walked towards where she was in conversation was in conversation with Daphne Greengrass.

So caught up was he in steeling himself for his mother's sharp gaze, that it was only when he neared them he noticed Zabini, Greengrass's date. was nowhere in sight. He stopped, started instantly searching the room with his eyes for Tiberius. After Adrian had specifically warned him not to-

"Adrian, have you had the chance to talk to Daphne tonight?" Madam Pucey prompted.

Gritting his teeth, Adrian took the bait, took the two steps to reach them. "I'm afraid not, mother. Ms Greengrass, how do you do?" he greeted.

"How do you do, Mr Pucey?" Greengrass returned, a friendly smile on her face.

The party had dwindled. Zabini was nowhere in sight. Tiberius was nowhere in sight.

"I don't see your date. Don't tell me he left you on your own?" Adrian asked, blunt, fishing for Zabini's whereabouts.

Greengrass flushed lightly. "Blaise stepped out to talk with Sanguini, I think. He should be back in a while."

Adrian pressed his lips together as he scanned the room again, wondered how true that was.

"Adrian, dance with Daphne, won't you?" Madam Pucey suggested, ordered. "It's a lovely song, and a shame to stand around for it."

His eyes darted to Greengrass for an instant before moving to his mother. "Have you seen Ty?" he asked, stepping over her words without a reply. "I want to have a word with him," he said.

Madam Pucey lightly raised an eyebrow at him. "He's back in his dormitory. It is quite late into the night, Adrian, in case you didn't notice."

There it was. The questions she would not ask him and the judgment she would not cast his way, all contained neatly in a soft censure that Adrian had lost track of the time. Which was true, but she didn't have to say it.

Asserting that Tiberius was well and truly ensconced in the sett going down there was borderline paranoia. So, Adrian resigned himself to leading Greengrass to the dance floor, if only to not have to look at Madam Pucey's disapproval of his apparent inconsideration.