It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

They weren't supposed to be doing this.

But it just felt so good, so right, that they should be in a cramped, dark broom closet together. They never knew how they ended up breaking curfew; it was just one of those innocent ideas at the time. But they were here, now, feeling so grown up, so alive.

Their other friend was forgotten as soon as they left the Tower, standing so close to each other, but thinking nothing of it. They never thought of how it appeared when they stood barely a breath away from each other - it was just normal for them to be invading the other's personal space. But it certainly left Ron steaming from the ears more than a few times. Not from their closeness, but because of the talk it fueled. He'd gotten detention more than once on their behalf. And this was how they were repaying him - a secret tryst in an abandoned broom closet after curfew.

Neither one still could remember how they'd ended up there.

Mouths met, hard, hungry, demanding the taste only the other could provide. He thought she tasted sweet, but with a hint of the musty books she always had her nose stuck in. She thought he tasted like the air he so loved to fly through, zipping back and forth across the Pitch just for the joy of it. Tongues tangled, wrapping around and rubbing against the other in a blatantly erotic tease. Their bodies were rubbing together, their clothes rustling. Furtive touches through clothing were quickly becoming not enough - they wanted skin contact.

She got her hands on his skin first. Ladies first, she thought to herself with a mental laugh. Her mouth was presently occupied with other tasks. It was a quick matter of running her hands up his hips, diving underneath the untucked school shirt, and her hands were traveling up his chest.

He pulled back from their kiss, and she made a vague sound of disappointment. He shushed her absently and set his hands to work on her shirt buttons. He knew, in some part of his brain that wasn't completely consumed by her, that they would need to be actually wearing clothing when they left.

The first touch of his fingers against her breasts was a shock for both of them, as if the final warning bell had gone off in both of their heads. That was something that friends just didn't do.

"Lumos," he whispered. The tip of his wand lit up, highlighting their faces. They needed the visual contact, even as they knew that it would break their concentration from the feelings. Harry's green eyes stared into Hermione's brown, a quirked eyebrow from her asking silently if he could live with the repercussions from this one ill-thought out act in a broom closet. He raised his own eyebrows, as if asking her if she could possibly deal with him after this.

"Nox," she muttered, plunging them back into darkness, and then fastening her mouth to his. They really shouldn't be doing this, but she would be damned if she just stopped now. She'd live with the consequences of her actions later, right now just felt too good.

His fingers circled her breasts, drawing closer and closer to her nipples, and sending shivers down her spine. Her hips bumped against his, and a soft moan built up in her throat at the simple feel of his erection. She wanted him inside her - as soon as humanly possible.

To him, things seemed to happen very fast. He felt Hermione rub against him, and the next thing he knew, he was arse on the ground, Hermione over him, with her hands headed to his trousers. He only knew that because of the heat her hands gave off as they moved up his legs towards his zipper. And it was a very quick matter to a witch bound and determined to get his zipper down. He mentally shrugged - he guessed that Hermione would be able to live with this later on. Her lips found his again, and as his hand inched higher on her bare leg, going under her skirt, her hand found him - skin to skin. What little blood was left in his brain (trying to remember how to breathe, touching Hermione, and oh yes, keeping quiet) promptly packed up their bags and left to make a new residence below his belt. A moan, really more of a vibration than an actual sound, seemed to echo in the closet.

"Shh," she whispered. "We don't want to get caught doing this. No out here."

He would have snorted in amusement if he could have just gotten his brain to work. His fingers finally reached their destination and dived beneath her knickers. Hot, wet bliss. Salvation had to be found between Hermione's thighs, and probably a good dose of religion too. She seemed to think so as well, because before he knew it, she was steadying his erection with one hand while the other held onto his shoulder for support.

He was right - and he helped his salvation along by holding the knickers out of the way. She was hot, tight, and oh so wet, and he didn't know how much more of that he could take. Hermione had all of the control - all he was doing was just holding her knickers out of their way and sitting there praying that he would not embarrass himself.

She felt so full - full of life, full of joy, full of him - and her head tipped back with the pure rapture of it. If this is what sex is like when you love somebody, then by God, she's going be knocking Harry down quite often. Rising up a little, she felt him slide out, the friction was incredible, and then she moved back down. She felt Harry's knuckles brush the side of her thigh as he was holding her knickers out of the way and she moved even closer, panting into his ear.

He moaned again at the exquisite feeling of Hermione around him, being a part of him. She didn't bother to shush him, as she was softly sighing with every movement she made. Up, down, it didn't matter, it all felt so damn good. Lifting his hips experimentally, his eyes nearly crossed as the pleasure shot up another notch.

"God, Hermione..."

"Yes, yes, I know. I know."

It was fast and rough, those final few strokes, no sense of timing whatsoever. But it felt good to them, and that was all that mattered. Hermione peaked first, much to her surprise. That didn't usually happen, she knew. For once in her life, she was completely swept away by emotion, with no logic to guide her. It was thrilling and scary, and oh so wonderful. She didn't care if her high pitched moan brought the entire school down upon them, and judging from the echoes, Harry didn't either.

They stayed in each other's arms, shaking a little, wondering what to do, what to say next. What do you say to your best friend after a bout of mind-blowing sex?

"Suppose that we ought to get back up to the Tower before anyone comes to find us?" Harry whispered between pants for air.

Hermione shrugged. It was as good as anything she could have come up with. "We'd better." She shifted off of him and adjusted her knickers while Harry redressed. Once they had both thought they were presentable, Harry cracked the door. No sign of movement in the dark hallway, so he guessed that they were in the clear. Grabbing Hermione's hand they dashed along the hallways, neither noticing the Silencing charm that had been pasted onto the doorway.

Once they were around the corner and out of sight, the only other person in the hallways breathed out, a sigh of desolation and regret. He had pushed them to this, he knew. Now all Albus Dumbledore could do was hope that they could live with what he'd done.