Day slipped swiftly into night, and at a time most of Hogwards occupants were sleeping, Hermione was just rising from a tepid bath of fragrant water. Unpinning her long hair, she let it fall and stood in front of a full-length mirror. Assessing her body, she wondered briefly why men were fascinated with breasts. Hers were generous, but like every other part of her body, simply there. Wondering what it would feel like to have his hands skimming over her naked skin, she slowly picked up a small bottle of perfumed lotion, tilted it into her hand and began rubbing into her flesh, wanting every area he touched to feel like silk. She imagined the hours ahead, and pressed a flattened hand on her stomach in an attempt to quell jittery nerves. She'd heard stories. About the pain. The blood. The first time was supposed to be completely awful.

Then there was Ginny, who'd shrugged and said she'd hardly noticed any discomfort. Well … it would only be this once. Then it would change. Thinking of his dark gaze, she shivered and bit her lip.

It had taken her six straight hours to collect ingredients and carefully brew the potion. She wouldn't back down now.

Lifting the small glass of pale, silver liquid from her bedside table, she raised it to her reflection.

"Cheers!" Tipping her head back, she swallowed, grimacing slightly before setting the glass down again. Double-checking the lock on her door, she walked purposely to the bed and climbed beneath the covers.

With thoughts of the man who'd haunted her thoughts,both waking and sleeping, washing over her, she shut her eyes.

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In his room, Severus Snape lay sleeping flat on his back and snoring gently. His sheets were scrambled and kicked out, signaling a restless night, but now his breathing was deep and even.

At the foot of his bed, the air turned cool and shimmered faintly before fading. Softly breathing, Hermione stood looking down at Severus, hardly believing she was really there. Looking down, she froze. Her body! She could see her own body. If she could, couldn't he? Running lightly over to the mirror above his dresser, she breathed a sigh of relief when, standing directly in front of it, she saw no reflection. Waiving her hand a few times in front of her face, she suppressed a laugh of delight.

Pivoting, she walked over to look down on him. Dark brows and long lashes, that lovely hooked nose, lips fuller than she remembered, not pressed into a thin line of annoyance. His face, in repose, held a trace of beauty that nearly took her breath away. She could stand here looking at him all night.

Pulling back his covers, she smiled at the black satin PJ bottoms, sans top. His bare chest seemed to glow in the pale moonlight. Remembering Ginny's words in the washroom, she felt her eyes drawn down. Reach out to softly tug at the elastic waist line, she pulled them carefully and intricately down and off. Standing, mouth agape, at the foot of the bed, she looked on in helpless fascination. She'd seen the naked body in books before, but it was something else to behold in reality.

Seeing his state of arousal, she smiled. "Thinking of me?"

She leaned forward for a better look, and whispered again, "You must be. Else I wouldn't be here."

Letting her eyes roam over him hungrily, she bent down and picked up the silk pajamas and padded softly to his pillow. Slowly, she clasped one wrist and rested it above his head, waiting with baited breath to see if he'd awaken. Carefully, picking up his other hand, she bent his arm and rested the hand crosswise on his other wrist. Using the silken PJ bottoms as a long scarf, she wrapped it several times, lightly, around each wrist, before lifting the ends up and forming a slipknot around the bedpost. Grinning, she backed off. Apart from a slight moan, he hadn't moved.

Resting her knee on the bed, she climbed up and straddling him, pressed her lips softly against his. A deep sigh escaped him as her lips moved against his. Lightly pressing with the tip of her tongue, she opened his mouth and began a slow exploration, feeling a thrill as he returned the deep kiss. Twisting, his brow creased when he couldn't find his arms.

Pulling back and pressing her finger to his lips, she shushed him, and leaned to trail warm, wet kisses down his throat and chest, running her hands freely over his body. Reaching his stomach, she heard his deep groan and smiled. Tilting her head down, she put Ginny's advise to the test.

Deep in sleep, Severus felt his body roaring to life. She was there. Just out of his reach. Teasing him. Taunting him. Touching him. Groaning deliriously, he strained again the invisible ties that bound him and called her name.

The sounds coming from him made her almost giddy with power. She was making him feel this way. It was almost impossible to believe. Delighted at the curious blend of silk and steel in her hand, she wondered breathlessly what it would feel like pressing inside her. At the sound of her name, spoken in a deep, almost tortuous murmur, she decided it was time.

Kneeling above him, she lowered herself slowly around him, pausing when the sensation of being impaled overwhelmed her. Thrusting up sharply, Severus closed the gap, and deaf to her cry of surprise and pain, began moving in and out of her in a forceful, pumping motion, straining at the silk that tied him.

Holding herself rigidly, Hermione waited for the pain to pass. Too stunned to move off of him, she tried relaxing her muscles, hoping less resistance would help. Feeling him stiffen, she listened to his hoarse cry of release, unaware of the two tracks of tears running down her face.

Slowing moving off, she rolled over into a ball, trying to keep her jagged breathing to a minimum. Dear Lord, that had hurt. She wanted ice. A cool bath. Some aspirin.

Shaking her head, she stood and calmed herself. What she needed was to leave without him knowing she'd been there.

Walking delicately over to the head of the bed, she pulled the slipknot and slowly began unraveling his hands. Looking down at his peaceful face, and the soft smile that appeared on his lips, she felt her heart trip. Next time, she thought to herself as she brushed a long section of hair from his eyes, next time will be different. Leaning over, she placed a light kiss on his lips, and reached to pull the covers up over him. Stuffing the PJ's at the foot of the bed, she smirked slightly. Let him wonder how they'd come off.

Moving quietly to the far side of the room, she leaned against the door, and watching him sleep, waited for the spell to send her back to her room.

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He caught her eyes the moment she walked into Potions class the following morning. A brief, questioning look, before coloring slightly and looking away. Hermione hid her smile and pretended to focus on her notebook. Embarrassed about his erotic little dream, I'll bet.

Glancing at her bent head, Severus felt his heart rate speed up. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Get a hold of yourself, man. Knowing the spell he'd put on his quarters would prevent her from entering the room, he still had the oddest feeling it had really happened. He'd had dreams of this nature before, but never had they been so … exquisite. And what the hell happened to his pants? He'd woken to find them stuffed at the foot of his bed. Did he strip in his sleep? What a lovely habit he'd developed. Sighing, and forcibly pushing the memory away, he stood to begin the lesson with his own unique blend of bullying and humiliation. Perhaps at least one of the rooms' restless occupants would learn something.

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The following night, at an indecent hour, a twinkle of silver sparkled then faded in the Potions Master's bedroom. The curtains were open to the evening sky, where a luminous moon glowed brilliantly, and stars too numerous to count flickered. The quiet lump in the bed made no noise, giving the intruder pause. Was he asleep? Was he awake? If he became aware of her presence when he was awake, he would know it wasn't a dream.

Creeping slowly up to his form, she bent her head low over his and listened. Soft, even breathing. Not a flicker of eyelash. Not a twitch of hand.

Satisfied, she lifted the covers and slid quietly into the bed with him, rolling to her side and moving to press the length of her body against his. Raising one hand, she ran it over his smooth chest and belly. She sat up to lean on one elbow, and place her lips softly on his. Letting her hand skim lightly over his body, she reveled in the feel and texture of him. When she reached the elastic waist of his bottoms, she inched her fingers under the band, and slowly let her hand find its objective. Clasping him firmly and moving her hand in a gentle exploration, she deepened her kiss, teasing the recesses of his mouth with her quick, darting tongue.

Feeling the nearly forgotten hunger begin to grow in the pit of his belly, from deep sleep, Severus reached up to clasp the back of her head with one hand and without a struggle, took control of the kiss with a mastery that left her heart racing. Sucking gently on her lower lip, he bit it lightly, and groaning, reached to move her busy hand away from him. Pulling her on top of him, he moved his hands roughly from the nape of her neck to the back of her knees, stopping to squeeze and knead areas of interest. Grabbing her around the waist, he lifted her higher to clasp one firm breast and then the other, hungrily kissing each one thoroughly, running his tongue roughly over each taut peak.

He could feel her heartbeat. He could smell her arousal. Rolling over her, he returned his hot mouth to her gasping lips, and reached down to stroke her with a light, teasing touch. Hearing her soft moans, he increased pressure, and crooked one long finger inside of her, searching and pressing against a soft spot. With rotating thumb, and curious fingers, he took her to the edge, and over, catching her keening, breathless cry in his mouth. Her passionate moans sent his control spinning. Senses heightened, Hermione felt him roughly grasp her hips and lift them, piercing her with his still-shocking fullness. Only now, she felt no pain. Just a roaring, rush of feelings. A battering of senses. Moving with him, she felt herself rising once more, and raking her nails over his back, took him with her, shuddering and gasping, into the flames.

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Back in her room, Hermione lay in her bed, trying to regain her normal breathing pattern. Laughing, she threw both hands over her face, and kicked her feet. She felt light. Giddy. Energized. Standing up, she strode to the mirror to look closely at her face. Had she changed? Did she look different? Losing her virginity had been a shock, certainly. But this, this exquisite and nearly excruciating pleasure, had stunned her. No wonder Ginny went on so about it. What had she been missing out on?

And, was it just the act? Or was it the man? Perhaps both. Perhaps with Ron, it would have been different. The feeling of touch without breathless excitement. A kiss without increased heart rate. Seven and half more weeks, she thought.

Perhaps they would go swifter than she thought. Than either of them thought.