Neither Hermione, nor Severus, nor any other Harry Potter character belongs to me. However, I am appreciative of the opportunity to enjoy portraying them through the use of my own imagination. Thank you Ms. Rowling!

**************************************************************************

Hermione was in REM sleep. Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth. A contented sigh, barely distinguishable from her deep breathing, fell from between her slightly parted lips. The dream was delicious. She felt a mini bolt of fear pass sharply through her dream state as it suddenly tried to dissipate and go away, but she didn't let it go. Once again, her dream Severus gently gathered her in his arms. She immediately felt warm and safe. Her dream self, who conveniently had no inhibitions, spread her flattened palms against his muscular chest. She burrowed her nose through his soft hair. It felt like silk. She inhaled the masculine scent of his neck and splayed her palms across the slim, yet muscular, expanse of his shoulders. In this dream she wasn't a virgin. She was the opposite, and her intent was to enjoy the luxury of having a submissive Severus Snape all to herself.

As is often the case with dreams, they seemed to be making love in several places at once. They were in his dungeon classroom on top of his desk. They were also on the floor of the restricted section of the library. For the moment, they appeared to be in the New York waterbed, and everything was going her way. Severus could not seem to get enough of her. She could feel much more than his hard-muscled body pressing into hers, and she reveled in the sensation of having this man's erection pressed against her inner thigh. The need to get closer made her even more bold. She continued to nuzzle first his neck, and then his chin, until at last she found his mouth. It took very little coaxing on her part to get him to open his mouth over hers. But then again, this was a dream. He languidly rolled his tongue around hers, and then moaning deeply took complete possession of her mouth. She felt as if he were drawing her soul from the very depths of her body. "Please," she moaned as she moved onto her back taking him along with her. She was so ready for him.

But then, suddenly he was gone. She felt cold. The dream had ended after all. "Mmmm," she moaned half in dismay and half in frustrated curiosity. Reluctantly, and without awakening, she gradually accepted the dream's abrupt end. "I hope I have that one again," she thought sleepily as she turned into the pillows and fell into a dreamless phase of slumber.

Meanwhile, a rapidly breathing Severus Snape stood over the sleeping girl. One hand covered his mouth in horror. "Good God what is the matter with me!"

He had been on the verge of falling into the easiest, most peaceful sleep he'd had in a long time. He had been holding Hermione in his arms with her head just below his chin, and her body burrowed into his. She'd felt warm and she'd smelled delicious. He'd felt thrilled as a lock of her long hair spilled onto to his forearm. The pleasure he found in simply holding her had been hypnotic, and he had found himself falling asleep as he'd wished to do. But before he could reach his goal, she had become restless. He'd peered down into her face using the bright moonlight seeping through the window blinds as his guide. He knew she was dreaming, so he'd pulled her closer to help her settle back into a peaceful sleep. From there everything began to slip out of his control.

A dreaming Hermione was a powerful thing. He'd realized this when she began to move her body sensuously against his. Her hands felt as if they were everywhere. He'd tried to move them away from his body, but this had only served to momentarily awaken her. He'd pulled her back into his arms, but felt semi-hard turn officially hard when she breathed an audible sigh of contentment. The pain of his erection was intense, so he'd been momentarily focused on his lower anatomy and unprepared for her next assault on his senses. Before he could block them again, her palms had moved slowly up his chest as if they were living beings wanting to enjoy the feel of his skin. Powerless to stop her, he'd felt the urgency of her face moving against his in the dark. And then...He was lost. Before he could stop himself he'd gained complete possession of her mouth.

Kissing Hermione Granger was the sweetest experience he'd ever had in his life. Severus was far from inexperienced in the joys of sex. He'd been with countless, nameless and faceless women. None of them had ever meant more to him than one or two nights of intense conversation - usually sexual in tone - followed by a few hours in bed. But although he was experienced in the arts of sensual pleasure, he was ignorant about the sweeter aspects of love and passion. He'd only been in love once before, but they had both been so young. The experience had soured him. He knew deep down that his attitude had less to do with feelings for his former love and more to do with the filth and degradation resulting from his years of service to Voldemort.

But this whole thing with Hermione was different. As he kissed her, he'd felt as if it was the first time for him. She had tapped into his long hidden inner core and in one single kiss was taking him away from himself. And for a few crazy minutes, he'd been prepared to go wherever she took him. But when she'd moved onto her back and opened her legs for him, he'd realized in frustrated horror that he couldn't accept such a gift from her. Not while she incoherent with sleep. Furthermore, she was too young for him. For that matter, she was too good for him as well. How could he ever justify taking her youth from her in an unguarded moment?

Now as he continued to look down at her sleeping form, he knew that she was dangerous for him. She was interesting, intense, and intelligent. She was unique among women. "How could any man not want her," he thought in amazement. Before he could suppress this new emerging truth, he acknowledged to himself that could lose his head over her if he wasn't careful.

"I've got to resurrect my inner Professor," he decided as he moved toward the master bath. He dreaded the imminent cold shower and the long night spent alone in the prettily decorated bedroom on the other side of the suite.