1"Behind Closed Doors" By Kross

A/n: I don't own Harry Potter…I simply enjoy using the characters conjured up J.K. Rowling for my own sweet pleasure.

Pairing: Hermione/Ron and Hermione/Mystery man

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Hermione's jaw hung open. She usually had every moment in her life planned out, re-planned and double checked. Here Hermione was, standing like a deer in the headlights of the world's biggest semi-truck. Everything seemed to slow and Hermione felt as though she were standing naked in the room, with all eyes on her. Slow, slow blink.

She pressed her eyelids together tightly, hoping that if only she could keep them closed permanently, she wouldn't have to face this problem. But, in truth, it was the biggest problem she had ever faced, or ran from. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Hermione struggled with her sweater. Tugged it down. She tried to cover her mid-drift although it wasn't showing. She pulled on her sweater until her shoulders peaked out from atop her garnet sweater.

"Hermione!" Someone called out behind her. "Where are you going so quickly?"

There Hermione was again, mouth drooping open. Her lips were only slightly parted, but she wondered if someone could just jump between them and take a walk in her mind. She closed her mouth slowly; she was sure she looked ridiculous. Peering over her shoulder she tried to eye this stranger; she could only see that it was too tall a figure to be a woman. She pivoted on the balls of her feet, turning to see who called her.

His eyes were like a beacon from a lighthouse, they pierced her in a thousand places. Emerald and deep, fringed by the tender lashes she had once admired.

His pink lips spread, giving way to a kind and inviting smile. Hermione fell in to him at once. He folded around her, cradling her like the porcelain doll she was to him. She felt the instant sting of guilt, he was no longer hers but he was the only one who had sought to comfort her. Or so she wanted to believe.

"What is the matter?" He whispered, tilting her head up to look him in the eyes. Their eyes met and she could hardly tear hers away. As she stood in his presence, she could feel bubbles of desire spring up and consume her. She could only remember when he had taken her into the forest and peeled her clothes off. She moved to him, stopping only out of sheer horror. His face. He, too, had a beard like her lover.

"Nothing…"She said sharply.

"Ron said you ran away from him." Yet again, her affections seemed to go unnoticed by him. He once had felt great love for her, but now found greater love in a distant, cold girl from Ravenclaw. Hermione secretly wanted him to reject her, as she knew that he was a source of great pain. Once, she had wished that he would no longer pay her any attention. She wanted her freedom from him; however, they seemed entangled at the present time.

"Did I?" She asked coolly. "I didn't, I just had to leave…I wasn't feeling myself."

"Uh…okay…" He replied as she walked away. Harry walked through the grand doors and sat at the Gryffindor table.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked. "I thought you were going to see if she was alright."

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Her hips swaggered like they had the night before. He closed his eyes and remembered how they had pressed against his, hungry for the sins they had committed.

His clothes still smelled of her.

"Oh, Hermione..." He cooed to himself

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She glanced at him as they passed one another in the wide hallway. Her eyes had a slight slant to them that deeply amused him. He was delighted by the way she had blossomed during her time at Hogwarts. She had arrived as a skinny, scrawny thing with a mane like a lion. This year, as she boarded the Hogwarts express, she had boarded as a woman. She had grown soft and tall, with curvy hips and breasts large enough to fill any hand. Her hair was silky, managed by magic, and draping over her body like a mermaid. Her hazel eyes reflected a slight teenage angst; however, they were mostly powerful, intelligent and cunning.

He mused as he remembered the way her hair had covered her smooth breasts, letting her pink nipples peak out. He loved that, unlike most girls, she was not wiry and hard. She was soft and wrapped in a womanly amount of flesh. A groan escaped his lips as he marveled at how tender she could look yet how vicious her nails and teeth could be on his shoulders and back. She ran her fingers through her hair as she stepped lightly past him. He turned only slightly to watch her as she went, as she wandered away, maybe to the library or off into the grounds.

He wasn't sure, as he thought back, if it really was just a game to him. Deep down he felt a twinge of something much more tender.. He thumbed his chin, newly shaven and baby soft. He smiled at his own success. He wondered if she would ever even suspect him. He wondered if he could get away with it again. Would she be more careful this time? Or would she allow him to sneak into her room, to swim in her sheets again? Her curiosity might allow for him to penetrate into her realm of trust once more, hoping to identify her mystery lover.

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I bet you know who he is. Review please, guesses welcome and desired.

Meg/Kross