Harry thought it was quite lucky to not to come across anyone as he left Umbridge's Office after his detention. Or more accurately, it was the other people that were lucky not to come across him, especially people he was predisposed towards not liking, such as the quarter of the population with green coat of arms, or a certain bat with the theatric inclinations. The anger was burning in his mind, seeking an outlet despite his best attempts to control it.
He was starting to get a reputation for his angry outbursts this year, but he didn't think there was anyone that could blame him this time. After all, not a lot of people would preach pacifism against a teacher who also happened to be responsible for an assassination attempt through soul-sucking monsters. He learned that particular fact from a memory he had picked as he was testing his legimency skills on Umbridge, while trying to get something more concrete than just emotions and surface impressions, only to stumble upon a memory of her, giving the orders to dementors through their handlers.
Still, Harry didn't know why he was feeling surprised. All four of his Defense teachers had tried to kill him, even though accidental on Lupin's part by forgetting his wolfsbane. It just meant that Umbridge started her true job a bit earlier than the others.
He managed not to yield for the temptation to go back and show her a better, more personal way to assassinate a target, through a technique that involved red ants, burning irons, and a lot of strategically deployed honey. But he held back. Not because he felt revolted due to the idea of killing her. He had learned that particular lesson after pitying Pettigrew, only for him to run straight to Voldemort's arm to resurrect him. And Umbridge did nothing to deserve his shortened sense of mercy.
Unfortunately, even the idiots in the Ministry would be able to put things together if she turned up dead just after his detention, and Hagrid's arrest in the second year proved that evidence was always optional. He needed a better plan to get rid of her, one that wouldn't leave him as a suspect at all. Or even better, he needed an iron-clad alibi. After the summer's trial for illegal magic usage, he didn't fancy his chances for the murder of a high-level ministry official, even without no supporting evidence. There wasn't a guarantee that he would get a trial at all, Sirius' fate being a good example.
There was one advantage of detention running late. There was no one in the common room. He didn't think he could restrict himself to prank spells if another idiot dared to admonish him for getting kicked out of the Quidditch team, something that was still exceedingly common despite the days that had passed.
Or almost no one, he corrected his thoughts a moment later, a smile breaking on his face as he saw a familiar mop of fizzy hair in a shadowed corner of the room. It was convenient that she was lost in the book in front of her, as it wasn't a nice smile on his lips. It reflected his dark thoughts that he wanted to discharge, lest they festered in him and forced him to an unfortunate action.
His face was back to a frown as he stepped closer, waiting for her to notice. "Harry!" she exclaimed a few steps later, when his shadow fell on her book. "How was the detention." Harry didn't need words to convey his feelings. He raised his hand, still bleeding through the words that were carved in there. "That's horrible," she exclaimed, even as she raised the bowl filled with Essence of Dittany for him to soothe his hand. "But Harry, you need to learn how to keep your calm. It cannot go like that," she added, her tone, as usual, reflected the tone of a teacher, unsatisfied with the slowness of her student.
At first, Harry said nothing, just sat down and slid his right hand to the bowl, enjoying the cool sensation of the magical ingredient as it started to repair his cuts. The coolness was good, because it helped him to hide the flare of anger against her patronizing tone. "I know," he said a few seconds later, turning to face her after employing his occlumency skills to erase the signs of anger. He met her eyes. "But it's hard to control my anger when I look at the face of that toad. I just want to smash her head," he murmured, this time, completely sincere. He wasn't exactly her biggest fan before, but learning that she was responsible for the assassination attempt in the summer brought it to a new intensity. And funny enough, he wouldn't be as angry if she was a Death Eater, just following Voldemort's orders. But no, she was just a self-entitled bureaucrat who was unable to distinguish the difference between a smear campaign and an assassination attempt, attempting to treat Harry like just an inconvenience.
In other words, the perfect candidate for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, Harry remarked angrily. Thankfully, he had discovered a productive outlet for his anger, he remarked as he made eye contact with Hermione, and sent a strong dose of guilt into her mind. His wounded hand and his obvious anger gave the probe of guilt ample fertile ground to dig in. Her eyes widened, suggesting that it clicked perfectly.
He observed the way her expression froze for a second before shifting to a familiar shape, the one she had whenever she was about to something extreme to please an authority figure. "Do you-" she started, but stopped when her voice cracked in panic. She took a deep breath, trying to gather her courage before continuing. "Do you want to go to a classroom," she said in the barest whisper, her emotions leaving no doubt about what she meant.
"No," Harry said, unable to prevent a smirk from forming on his lips as her expression shifted to one of total surprise. But his surprises weren't over yet. "Why bother going anywhere, we're alone already."
Harry would have assumed it was impossible, but her shock grown even larger. "But, what if someone comes down," she stuttered.
"Not likely," he replied even as he used his left hand to pull his zipper down. "It's late, and even if someone is suffering from insomnia, we're in the corner of the room. It will give us enough time to gather ourselves."
She still looked unconvinced. "I don't think so. I think they will notice I'm naked."
Harry couldn't help but feel impressed at the progress she made. Just a couple of sessions, and she came far enough to discuss being naked in the common room. She was still hesitant, but from the way her voice trembled, the weakness of her stance was apparent. A bit of argumentation, and her resistance would fold like a paper shield. Unfortunately, it wasn't the objective of the night, Harry lamented, no matter how attractive the idea of a naked Hermione in the common room. "While it's an attractive idea," Harry said, watching her blush even further, "I had a different idea in mind."
"What idea?"
"With my hand in this state, I can't exactly do it myself," he said with a sigh. "So, I was hoping that you could do it for me again." He smirked even as his eyes found hers. "If that's not a bother for you, of course."
"No, it's not," she answered in a hurried attempt to assure him, followed by a realization about what she had just agreed. But it was too late, as his shaft was already out, waiting for her attention. "Harry…" she said, but her words dwindled as her eyes fell on his shaft.
"Yes, Hermione," he answered as he leaned back, allowing her space to work on his shaft, but chose to peer deep into her eyes instead of saying anything else. It was an amusing sight, watching her expression cycle between panic and shock, each colored with fledging doses of desire. It wasn't exactly a surprise, considering their last session ended with her covered with his seed, dangerously close to a climax of her own. He sent another legimency probe into her mind, verifying that the arousal he could see in her eyes weren't an illusion indeed. A nice opportunity, he thought as he strengthened the flames of her desire magically, breaking the last barrier of resistance.
It worked splendidly as she reached for his shaft, her fingers wrapping gently around, but much more confident in their motion, her earlier experience showing itself. Her gaze fell on the ground, which was unfortunate as he would have preferred to keep the eye contact. Reading the way her emotions shifted between different states was almost as fun as the handjob he was receiving at the moment. Almost, but not quite, he added as he moaned softly, sinking himself in the sensation of her fingers.
His hand landed on her hair, caressing it affectionately. But his aim wasn't to create positive associations, which was just a bonus. Rather, he wanted her to miss the fact that the force behind the caresses was getting stronger with each repeat. Hardly noticeable at first, but soon, his caresses were hard enough to push her head closer to his shaft. "Harry?" she asked with a trembling voice, realizing what he was insinuating.
"It's taking quite a bit of time," he explained even as he pushed her lips closer to the tip, abandoning his halfhearted attempt of misdirection. "So, I thought maybe we could try something alternative." Her mouth was open in shock, and Harry didn't miss the opportunity. Before she could say anything, he pushed her head down until the top part of his length was lodged in her mouth, making it impossible for her to voice her complaint.
She tried to pull back, but his hands were pressing strongly on top of her head, forcing her to journey deeper on his shaft. She lacked the power to pull out, but that didn't stop her struggle. "Think it off as punishment," he explained in a casual tone, as casual as one could manage when forcing his beautiful yet annoying friend to suck his cock. "You failed to finish the task you were given, and now you need to work extra."
Framing it as a punishment for her underperformance even better than his expectations. Her struggles stopped like they were cut by a severing charm. Another soft push, and she moved even deeper, and pulled back only when he allowed her to. The pattern repeated a couple of times, ensuring that, when he pulled his hand back, she continued bobbing over his shaft, freeing his hand for more interesting tasks. The pleasure given by her mouth was incredible, forcing him to employ his mental skills to prevent an early discharge.
The temptation to force her deeper was strong, but ill-advised, so he moved for the next best thing. "Why don't you wrap your pretty fingers at the bottom of it," he reminded. "That way, it would go quicker." Once again, she surprised him with her obedience, and her fingers wrapped around the base without further prompting.
He decided to leverage the freedom of his hand for further mischief as he put it on her back, slowly trailing her spine, feeling her shivers under his touch despite her bulky robe. Its movement stalled at the location her spine melted to her plump bottom, its destination clear, waiting to see if she had any objection. The speed of her lips increased, whether it was a sign of her arousal, or she wanted for him to finish before he could push into dangerous waters, Harry didn't know. Nor he cared too much, as the result was identical in both cases.
He let his hand continue its path, tracing the plump lines of her ass, tempting him to rip off her clothing to reveal the treasures they were hiding. Since it was impossible at this stage, he moved to his consolation prize, traveling down until he reached to a point on her leg that was uncovered by her skirt, allowing him to caress her warm flesh. She didn't register the move, so he started climbing back, but with a great difference. His hand was underneath her clothes, bunching them up as it followed the path it created earlier.
This motion, she registered, pulling back. "Harry! What are you doing?" she said, alarmed. But in doing so, she had made a mistake, establishing eye contact once more.
Not missing the opportunity, Harry boosted her arousal while suppressing her sense of modesty. Lacking in time, neither was particularly effective, but then, they hadn't had to. In her receptive state, even a weak push was enough to push her where he wanted. "I'm just trying to make sure I'm not going to keep you busy for too long," he explained, trying to act innocent. "But if you are happy gobbling, go ahead," he added, deliberately pulling his hand back to his lap. Her blush was legendary at the insinuation that she enjoyed it enough to lengthen it, but Harry didn't need his mind-reading abilities to know its accuracy.
Her silence stretched uncomfortably, for her at least. For Harry, it was simply amusing, watching her frozen, lost, but with her fingers still wrapped around the base of his cock, pumping absentmindedly. "You need to finish what you have started," Harry said, nodding towards his cock. "Otherwise, we're going to be here all night. And while it's not exactly an unpleasant idea, each second is increasing the probability of getting caught. Can you imagine the gossip if we get caught."
The reminder pushed her to action once more, adding a panicked haste to the mix. She took her earlier position, leaning over his shaft as she kept her seat. Her lips closed around his girth, the warmth of her mouth extracting another groan of him. At first, he kept his hand to himself, enjoying the treatment she brought passively, but soon, his hand was traveling the same path it took just moments ago, but fast enough that just a minute later, his hand was back under her skirt, traveling up her legs.
She stopped the moment she felt his hand underneath her skirt, but this time, she didn't pull back. Likely because how useless it turned out the last time. Harry slowly climbed upwards, leaving a trail of caresses on her inner thigh. His treasure hunt concluded moments later, when his finger arrived at a wet patch on her panties. That was enough to make her pull back in panic, her lips opening to deliver her objection, but his fingers started dancing circles around her clit, replacing her words with a moan at the last second. "Try to keep your voice low," he commented. "After all, we don't want attention right now, do we?"
"We don't," she repeated, but too shy to keep her gaze firm on my eyes. "But… Do you have to…" she said, trying to explain her objection for his low-powered tease, but prevented by her sense of shame.
"I don't," Harry said casually. "But it will make sure things will end up quicker, not to mention you deserve a bit of treat yourself." He stopped for a second for dramatic effect. "It's enjoyable for you, isn't it." Hermione mumbled something, but it was well below the limit of hearing. "Could you repeat it, please," Harry said even as he reduced the diameter of the circles he was drawing, increasing her pleasure.
"I said-" she started, but a moan cut her explanation. "Yes, it's enjoyable," she whispered in resignation.
"Perfect. Now back to work," Harry said, underlining the order with a soft flick to her knob, making her shiver. She followed his order, and once again, took his presence in her mouth, bobbing, silent discounting a few errant moans.
Unfamiliar with the touch of a male, and already tense with the situation, it didn't take long for her to tremble uncontrollably, her wetness permeating deeper to her underwear, enough to drench his fingers. He pulled his hand out, and pressed on the top of her head, forcing her to go deeper. Distracted by her own pleasure, she was unable to resist as a generous portion of his length invaded her mouth. She tried to pull back when he started sprouting, but it was too late, his hand keeping her head in place as her mouth was filled with his seed.
The sight of her bruised lips, stained with his seed, was enough to spark another flash of desire in him, but it was already late. So, he caressed her cheek before she could deliver her own objection, simultaneously drowning her mind with the satisfaction of a job well done. The sudden shift in her own emotions stalled her words, allowing him to speak first. "Good work," he said as he patted her cheek softly. "Go and have some rest," he added, then slowly fixed his pants and stood up, leaving a frozen Hermione behind, unable to utter a word.

The next day at the breakfast, he looked around but Hermione was not around. He shrugged dismissively, after all, it was Hermione, and would never skip her studies no matter the situation. He would have enough time to mess with her with one of their shared lessons.
Instead, he started looking around, looking for his next target to sharpen his mental skills. He glanced over Parvati and Lavender but dismissed them a second later. While he wasn't familiar with them as much as Hermione, therefore would add a new layer of difficulty, they were famously simple. He doubted that they would be too much of a challenge. He dismissed Ginny even faster, as her hero worship would probably make her a putty in his hands even without bringing his mental talents to the deal. It didn't mean that he wouldn't play with them if the opportunity arose, just that they weren't the targets he picked to sharpen his abilities.
He was continuing to examine the Gryffindor table when he was distracted by the several heads turning towards the entrance. He trailed their path, only to see Daphne Greengrass, the ice queen of Slytherin, walking towards her house table. Harry stopped for a moment the appreciate the view. Silky blond hair framing a face devoid of infliction, but pretty enough to make one ignore her emotionless. Her blue eyes looked towards her table, ignoring the eyes that watched her movements from all four tables, though Harry was sure he could see a flicker of satisfaction at the attention. After all, the way her hips were shaking was not natural, however she tried to pass it like that.
Harry smirked in satisfaction. Beautiful, willful, mysterious, and to make things even better, from Slytherin. He just found his new project…