“Hurry up, Hermione,” Harry called as he rushed down the corridor.  Ron was not far ahead, awaiting his companions at the black lacquered door.

Hermione staggered up, breathing heavily.  “Just because you two are athletes doesn’t mean we all are,” she chided.

“We’ve only got about thirty minutes to do this,” Harry reminded her.  She glared at him in return.

Ron cast an Alohomora charm on the door.  To their surprise, it opened.

“Guess he figures no one will get past security downstairs.” Ron snickered.

They entered the office quickly, softly closing the door behind them.

“Well?” Hermione demanded, hand on hip.  “What did you have in mind, Harry?”

Harry grinned wickedly and grabbed her around the waist.  Ron grabbed her ankles and the two of them moved her onto the desk atop the papers there.

“No, not the desk,” Hermione said, trying to get up.

Harry held her shoulders down while Ron held her knees.  They grinned at each other before turning their attention back to Hermione.

“Yes, the desk,” Harry said.

“It has to be the desk,” Ron added.

When Hermione opened her mouth again to protest, Harry bent down and kissed her, licking across her lips and sliding his tongue into her mouth.  Hermione moaned appreciatively, arching her back.

Ron slid her skirt upward and busied himself with pleasing her.  Harry unbuttoned her blouse and caressed her while they kissed.

It was altogether too soon when the alarm charm Hermione had set for thirty minutes rang its warning chime.

Ron banged his head against the desktop twice before standing again and adjusting himself.  Harry sank into the chair behind the desk with a groan, squeezing his eyes shut.  After a moment, he stood and hurried to the door.

Opening it slowly, he peered around the corner.  With a wave of his hand, Harry ushered Ron and Hermione out as quickly as they could walk.  Ron and Harry were just uncomfortable and Hermione’s legs were shaky.

They made it to the main corridor before bursting into laughter.

“Will we ever be able to tell Fudge what we did?” Ron asked.

Harry held up his identification tag for the day.  On it was written:  Harry Potter, Illicit Tryst.

Hermione smiled and said, “Someday.”

“It’s enough that we know,” Harry smirked.  “And I’ll never be able to look at his desk again.”