Inkpot

That time would come just three days later. The group of six Slytherin's studying late in their little Slytherin section of the library, had dwindled down to the last two. Montague and Tracey Davis. Tracey was a slow writer and Montague had at least one gentlemanly bone in his body, as to always wait for to finish before leaving [together.

It

](http://together.It)

was almost perfect. The clock was chiming towards midnight and the rest of the school was already asleep. Hermione had slipped out of her room using a clever combination of stealth and spells. She knew the layout of the castle like the back of her hand, and she knew that she had to act fast.

The library was eerily quiet, the only sounds the occasional creaks of the ancient books and the distant hoot of an owl. She made her way to the Slytherin corner, where Montague and Tracey sat, their heads bent over a parchment, their quills moving in unison as they whispered to each other. The air was thick with the scent of ink and parchment, a smell that had once brought her comfort but would be filled with the smell of sex in just a few minutes.

Hermione got close enough whilst disillusioned, to steal the inkpot Tracey would need to finish her late night homework.

Tracey looked up with a furrowed brow. "Monty, have you seen the inkpot?"

"It's on your side of the table Trace" Montague said without looking up from his own parchment.

Without missing a beat, Hermione slipped the inkpot into her pocket and waited for the right moment. She knew as a top student herself, how a simple missing inkpot can derail an entire study session. Montague was not a sharer of items either, so it wasn't like they could share. Tracey's annoyance grew palpable.

"It's gone!" Tracey exclaimed, standing up and glancing around the desk.

"What's wrong?" Montague asked, finally looking up from his work.

"I haven't got any ink Monty. Can you see it on the floor on your side, maybe it rolled?" Tracey asked, a hint of desperation in her voice.

Hermione watched meticulously, almost counting down the beats of time as they were happening.

"It's not here," she said with a growl, stepping out from the table l. "It's probably Peeves. I'm going to ask Pince if she's got some ink. Don't copy my work Monty, I mean it" she warned and stormed away from the area, her heels echoing in the vast space.

Montague watched her leave, chuckling under his breath. He didn't seem to notice Hermione. She took a deep breath and let the moment wash over her. The library was almost empty now, with just the flickering candles and the quiet rustle of pages. This was her chance.