Theo POV

I saw it all from a distance. Hermione sparked with anger as Ron wrapped his arm around her followed by Draco clutching his stomach in pain. By the time the match started, I was already making my way down the stands in a frantic attempt to fix things up close. I looked back in time to catch Draco's attention. He gave me a nod before swooping towards the Ravenclaw seeker. I'd originally told him that I would see as much of the game as I could, but Draco understood the importance of making sure Hermione was alright. My plan had been to catch her at the end of the match, which would have meant only missing Draco catching the snitch, as I knew he would. He'd been okay with that. Still, I felt bad, torn between the two of them. Being there for Hermione meant missing celebrating Draco and it wasn't fair that I had to choose. Things were already not going to plan. How much of Draco's joy would I miss in pursuit of Hermione? If it was up to him, he would tell me that it didn't matter, but it mattered to me. He mattered to me and it was his desire that kept my feet moving away from him.

We had both suspected that she would show up to the game and sit with Ron and Harry. We hadn't taken the angry Hermione into consideration. When she looked at me before Draco had clutched his stomach, she had practically screamed out for some sort of savior. She clearly didn't want to be around Weasley and that was enough to send me to her side. Draco wanted it that way and I couldn't help wanting it too, for both him and myself. I wanted to get her away from them. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I could see the golden trio stepping out through the entrance to the pitch. Harry and Ron hugged Hermione before they turned toward the Gryffindor stands. She didn't follow, which was perplexing enough. I expected her to leave at least. Instead, she lingered at the entrance to the pitch, her eyes drawing upwards.

Hermione never cared for quidditch. She'd always watched the games with Harry and Ron, but she really only watched when Harry himself played. When Harry had played, she'd cheered along with her fellow Gryffindors. Now, she stood silent and contemplative, with a furrow to her brow. The sparks of golden anger had dissipated upon Harry and Ron's departure. It wasn't anger that marked her face, but concern and confusion. I walked up beside her quietly, afraid to spook her, wanting to confirm what I already knew. I confirmed it. Her eyes were plastered to Draco's broom.

"He's a better player now that he doesn't cheat," she said, surprising me. I hadn't expected her to admit to watching him.

She was always surprising me these days- this new Hermione. Her anger was a thing of beauty though it was her desire and brokenness that called to me more than the know-it-all girl that used to make me jealous. Jealous at first anyway, and then enraptured with desire.

"When we were little kids and we would practice, he would kick me in the shins to make me drop the quaffle. He was such a prat." I paused and then laughed. "Still is actually."

A twitch of the lips. There was something glorious about seeing it. It wasn't quite a smile. I guessed that I had earned too many of those already. What would I give to earn another one? Or a moan? Gods, one of those perfect little moans laced with anger. The thought made me bold.

"But he's a lot better at playing fair. The only thing we fight about now is you, mostly who gets to hold your knickers when we fuck," I said.

I was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath. She looked at me then, her lips still open in shock. I simply shrugged, giving her a smirk, and her shock shifted back to anger. With an irritated growl, she latched onto my arm, pulling aside part of the colorful tent-like febraic that covered the bleachers. She dragged me behind her into the space that was lit in a strange yellow glow. Those sparks were back and everywhere from her flushed cheeks to the tips of her fingers. She hadn't pulled her wand though and I took that as a good sign. Her intention to get me alone wasn't pain, it was shame. I pushed even farther than she pulled, shoving her back into one of the wooden posts beneath the bleachers. She gasped again, her grip on my arm only tightening.

"Are you embarrassed to hear how much we want you? Even after reading all those naughty books? You don't need to hide us. It's not some secret, Hermione. We want you and we could give a fuck less if everyone knows it. Even if it meant the entire pureblood wizarding world disowning us, we would still fall at your feet in the middle of the great hall. But if you insist on hiding, if it's all we can get, it makes no difference. The want is still there, whether you accept it or not, whether you force our stares or ignore them."

She didn't move, didn't speak. Her lips were so close to mine, all plump and sparking with her rage. Vanilla wafted into my nose, that distinct scent of her hair flooding my brain, and pushing my desire even further.

"What do you think it would be like to make him watch as I fuck you? I bet that would feel good, watching him suffer through the agony of watching it without experiencing it. I could give him a play by play of how good you feel from the inside."

"No. I would never let you-" She stopped speaking, but I didn't think it was out of a lack of anger. Those sparks were still very much alive. It was probably the pressure of my now hardened cock against her as I pressed my hips into hers. She moaned when it made contact with her center, unable to continue her lie.

"Never?" I asked with a smile, leaning my head forward so that I could just barely brush my lips against the hollow of her throat where it was open above her scarf, surrounding myself in vanilla.

"Never." She shook her head slowly, breathing harder, her throat pulsing under the very tips of my touch. It wasn't quite a kiss, more of a caress with my mouth.

"Never," she said again, though her hips betrayed her.

She shifted against my erection while she continued to shake her head and pant. With great restraint, I separated my waist by a few inches and tilted my head back. I wouldn't push it that far. I couldn't, not without Draco's knowledge. We hadn't discussed it, hadn't dreamed that there would be a possibility for one on one interaction. I couldn't push her that far without his agreement. Besides, I knew I hadn't earned those gyrations of her hips. I wanted her to admit she wanted me before I gave her more. But a kiss? A taste of those full lips? I found that I didn't care whether I had earned that or not. I wanted to kiss her. A single kiss. Surely Draco wouldn't fault me for a kiss?

"Tell me not to kiss you," I said and her eyes locked on mine. She glared at me, her eyes screaming no, but her mouth parting ever so slightly with an unspoken yes. "Or push me away. If you do neither, I am going to kiss you, Hermione."

I gave her the opportunity to shove, to fight, or scream. I gave her several long moments before I did what I had threatened.

Lips moved across lips in a symphony of movements that rivaled the best orchestra. We played in time with each other in an expert rhythm- tongues and teeth, sliding and catching. The hand on my arm loosened then slid upward, across my neck, and deep into my hair. She gave it a hard tug. It was not to pull me away, it was to yank me in closer while the sounds of moans reverberated in our mouths. I expected to feel those sparks of her rage at any moment- prickling on my skin, zapping my lips or fingers from where I latched onto her sides. All I felt was the warmth of her breath mingling with mine and the give of flesh under my hands. Flesh under clothes that I would not allow myself to remove, flesh that I had seen naked and covered in sweat from an untouchable distance. Seconds, forty or fifty seconds of sweet contact. I allowed myself those seconds to embrace everything, to soak in a first kiss that I had ached for, waited for, and never expected. When she fought to wrap her leg around me, I shoved myself back. It was the last of my decency. If I didn't care about Draco, if I wasn't madly in love with him, I wouldn't have been able to make myself stop.

"Never?" I asked again, breathing hard and feeling smug. I took a few more steps back. I needed distance, a nose free of vanilla.

She reached up a hand to touch her swollen lips, her back still against the post several feet away. Those sparks were practically a physical thing as she watched me step away. She was going to light the whole pitch on fire with that rage of hers. If it took on a physical state, I had no idea what it could do. Still, her cheeks were pink and her body couldn't lie. She hated wanting me, but she wanted none the less.

"You should improve your lying skills, Hermione. The next time Draco and I get you alone, you had better make that lie more believable or be ready to speak the truth."

I left her to her confusion, to her rage, slipping back out from under the bleachers. I made my way back up the Slytherin stands and watched Draco play, counting down the moments until I could tell him, until I could share with him what I had accomplished. We'd both been seeking something, and I cheered when he caught the snitch in his hand because we'd both won.