I do not own these characters. It is thanks to the genius of J.K. Rowling that I get to have fun writing this fic.

Also, this is another short chapter. I apologize, but I figured I should post what I have until another opportunity to write comes up again. Thank you so much for all the reviews! Your feedback is welcome and appreciated.

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Hermione Granger sat bolt upright in bed. She looked around the room in which she was sleeping without recognizing it. Her adrenaline began to free flow up and down her spine, as memories, like sound bites, reconnected her to her surroundings. Professor Snape. New York. Actresses. Flats. Small dogs. Cognac. Waterbeds. "I'm in New York with Professor Snape!" she said aloud as the events of the day before steam rolled their way back into brain. The meeting with Dumbledore, Times Square, The Gap and "Ooooo, the cowboy! Why am I sleeping in here?" she wondered briefly before automatically succumbing to the only logical explanation she could generate.

"Oh my God! I slept with Professor Snape!"

She could feel a Weasley-red suffuse her body from the neck up. Additionally, the impending onset of a hyperventilation episode overwhelmed her fragile attempts at breathing naturally. However, she was able to regain control of herself when a persistent little voice inside her head said soothingly and repeatedly, "My dear, you would never do that." Ever sensible, Hermione's logical self began to restore order to her seesawing emotions.

"Of course I'm right," she asserted. "But what happened?" Her brow furrowed as she concentrated on recalling the events of the night before, in particular, her post-cognac memories. She felt frustrated by the ineptitude of her usually dependable, razor sharp memory. "It's not as if I had more than a sip of the cognac," she mused. She felt comforted by this thought because it was true. Also, her intuition told her that nothing inappropriate could possibly have occurred between them.

However on the other hand, there were fleeting, sensuous images of herself and Snape hanging about her common sense like a theater curtain waiting for opening night. "But I went to my own room last night! Or did I? Wait a minute! He was screaming for me to come to his room. I remember now...He'd never seen a waterbed. Strange that! But ok......I lay down on his bed to show him how nice it was......I....must have...fallen asleep. I am such a dolt! How could I climb in bed with Snape of all people? And it was my own doing! He didn't ask for a sleeping companion. He just wanted to complain about muggle beds! "How could I? Wait a minute! How could he? How dare he!"

Completely affronted, and without clearly thinking of what she was going to do next, Hermione whipped the down comforter from her legs and almost threw herself from the bed. She was as far as the door when she realized, with a new sense of alarm, that she was about hunt him down and..."What? Accuse him of having sex with her?"

"Oh good morning Severus! Lovely day isn't it? By the way....How dared you do the F-word to me last night?"

While she acknowledged that they had overcome a few barriers in their relationship the day before, she was sure that it was not enough to comfortably sustain a conversation about such intimate matters. The very thought of the word "sex" co-mingling in conversation with him sent another unpleasant ripple of adrenaline coursing through her. "And what if I'm wrong?" she thought. "If I feel like a complete dolt now, I can't imagine the embarrassment of falsely accusing Snape of messing about with me. Maybe I was dreaming it all? But why would I even bother to dream about the least attractive man I know?"

This latter thought was barely formed before she summarily discarded it. She knew very well how affected she had been by the emotional roller coaster growing within her the day before. In the beginning of the day, at Hogwarts, Snape wasn't even a speck on her radar of life. She only thought about him when she was confronted with his daily dose of depravity and ill temper in potions class. However, by the time they had reached their flat, there had already been numerous subtle changes in their relationship. She had seen attractive women admire him, and had come to acknowledge to herself that he had somehow improved dramatically since their arrival in New York. They had held hands. And although it was for practical reasons, she knew the intimate contact had changed the dynamics of their student/teacher relationship. Moreover, she'd felt safe with her hand in his. She hadn't needed that kind of reassurance since she was a child.

"But he noticed me too," she remembered. "There was that comment in the elevator about my breasts. And the way he looked at me there was so intense. It was quite lovely really." The more she thought about it, the more Hermione began to realize that his appreciation of her feminine qualities had awakened something in her. Most people noted only her well- known propensity for studying and her friendship with Harry.

"Merlin! All this speculating is ridiculous. I have to talk to him, and it can't wait a single moment more. Besides, he's probably hungry and doesn't know what to do. Poor guy." She decided that she would fix him breakfast, and while his mouth was full she would ask him straight out about last night. There was a part of her that was hoping he would belittle her like always and return them to their unpleasant yet familiar roles. But only a small part of her wished this. The rest of her was suddenly basking in the belated, but heady, awakening of the woman inside her.