Smart Girls Do
by Voleuse

Hufflepuff is loyal. Gryffindor is brave. Slytherin is ambitious. Ravenclaw is smart.

Or so the world would have it.

Hermione Granger, however, knows better than to sort the world into four-color panels. Her own Gryffindor, for example, is dear to her heart. She wouldn't give up their rowdy post-Quidditch celebrations for anything, Weasley-twin explosions and all, let alone her friendship with Harry and Ron.

Sometimes, however, she longs for more from her study groups than commiseration. She'd like someone to understand why she spends most of her free hours poring over ancient texts in the library's dustier corners. She'd like someone to understand why Trelawney is her least favorite professor, and not Snape.

When she notices Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect, is reading the same texts she has and lurking about the same shelves, she smiles.

One day, she says hello.

After days, weeks, of running into each other amongst the stacks, "hello" becomes something else.


Professor Binns had highly recommended "Ancient Riddles and the Riddlers Who Wrote Them," with the offhand remark that it was "amusing, in an ancient sort of way."

That, Hermione had to read.

Four shelves down, seven across, and Hermione can see the sunlight streaming down from the windows, but not much else, besides books. The sporadic chatter of other students has faded, and now she only hears the loudest outbursts, faded to mumbles.

That, and the familiar quiet footsteps of Penelope two shelves away. No one else, aside from Madame Pince, would be browsing the stacks, and never midday, while the students are out in full force.

Hermione runs her hand over the coarse leather of the books, and waits for Penelope to come to her.

It's only a few minutes, before the shuffle of Penelope's feet changes, grows louder, and Hermione pulls "Ancient Riddles" from the shelf and begins to read it. In a minute, she's enthralled by a roundabout tale of the Sphinx's cousin-in-law, Riddling Ralph, who hated puns.

She's a bit startled when Penelope's hand lands on her shoulder, and her lips press against her neck.


"Shhhh." Penelope takes the book from Hermione, places it reverently on the shelf. "Wait."

Hermione grins at the texts in front of her, at the hands slowly roving over her robes. "For what?"

Penelope answers her query with a series of efficient movements, dipping a hand under Hermione's robes, beneath the waistband of her skirt, and into her knickers. The other hand skims up her torso, squeezing her breast through the thin cotton of Hermione's blouse.

She squirms under Penelope's careful touch, arches back as two fingers circle her clit.

"Tell me about the book."

"What?" Hermione gasps as one of Penelope's fingers slips into her. "What book?"

"The book you were reading." Penelope sounds amused. "Ancient Riddles. Is it for an assignment?"

"No, Merlin," and Hermione bites her lip for a moment. She's having trouble concentrating. "Professor Binns mentioned it in class. It sounded, oh, interesting."

"Good on you." Penelope's voice is amazingly calm, considering the wicked, jagged things she's doing to Hermione. "You know, half of the random things Binns mentions are more useful than the actual lecture."

"You c-can't mean," she stammers, "the lecture isn't important?" Two fingers, now, and Hermione's trying not to moan. "I took all those notes."

"Of course not," knuckle-deep, faster, "but you have to keep the bigger picture in mind. Like a riddle."

"A riddle?" Hermione presses her face against the books, and they feel like ice against her cheek. "Wh-what?"

"It's not all facts, Hermione," fingers twist, and again, "It's not about the facts. It's about knowledge."

"It's, oh," and she's coming, too quickly and too much, and she bites the sleeve of her robe to keep the scream from leaking out.

Penelope's hands withdraw, and Hermione's left adjusting her robe with shaky hands.

Penelope presses a kiss against her temple. "I have Astronomy. See you tomorrow?"

Hermione nods, listens as Penelope wanders out of the library.

And makes plans.


It's mid-evening, and they're both studying for exams, which are coming up in a few months.

Hermione, however, has more than Potions and Herbology in mind for the night. One eye on the time, the other on Penelope, seated at the head of the long, creaking table, Hermione knows exactly when to initiate her plan.

When it's time, close to the hour, Hermione shuts her book quietly and slides under the table. She prowls forward to the tune of Penelope's chuckle. Ducks her head underneath Penelope's robes and skirt, and yanks at her knickers until they're around her ankles, then off. Hermione tucks them into a pocket, then turns to the matter at hand. She has a very strict time frame.

Forgoing the usual tentative kisses and teasing bites, Hermione plunges her tongue into Penelope, humming smugly at the strangled cry Penelope must have muffled against a sleeve. Intent on driving her to the brink, Hermione laps rhythmically, but softly. Waiting, even when Penelope's hand snakes into her hair roughly.

"What are you waiting for?" Penelope's question is a muttered growl. Hermione smiles, mid-lick, because it's time.

"Penny?" Percy's voice, pitched quietly, still carries through the silence of the library. "I thought you might be in here."

"Percy!" There's a note of panic in Penelope's voice, now, and Hermione shifts sideways as Percy takes a seat at the table. "I thought you were watching Quidditch practice."

"Oliver rescheduled the practice yesterday. Something about Harry doing detention, I think." Percy's feet tap against the floor, and Penelope's hips are starting to twitch. "Sorry I forgot to tell you."

"That's all right, Percy." Penelope sounds a little breathless, and Hermione laps at her mercilessly. "But would you mind fetching a book for me?"


"This one, please." Hermione hears a hurried scribbling, then a quick tear of parchment. "It should be down a few rows, against the wall, there."

"All right." Percy stands up, and walks away. Hermione watches his feet disappear, then dips two fingers into Penelope, shifting her tongue to her clit.

"Oh!" Penelope's hands descend on Hermione's shoulders, and her hips buck against Hermione. "You're going to pay for that, Granger."

Hermione responds with a twist of fingers, grazing her teeth against flesh, and Penelope comes in a series of shudders and a slow hiss of breath.

In a flash, Hermione is up and gathering her books and notes, just in time for Percy's return.

"Hullo, Hermione." Percy smiles at her, hands Penelope the requested book. "Were you here, then?"

"Yes," Hermione clutches her books in her arms, "but I've gotten what I wanted." She nods to Percy, dares a wicked glance at Penelope. "Good night."

"Good night," Penelope echoes with a narrowed gaze. "See you tomorrow?"

Hermione shrugs, turns away to hide her grin. "Maybe."


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