-Mixed Emotions-

When Hermione reached her bed, she was about to grab some towels and a change of clothes when she noticed a white envelope on her sheets. She slowly picked up the familiar looking paper and searched the room.

No one was in the dormitory but her. She sat down on her bed and looked at the envelope in her hands. How did this get here?

She hesitated, but the longer the paper lay in her hands the more her head ached with curiosity.

Her fingers slowly opened the envelope to revel a letter which read:

Her name is Hermione,

I want to grab her heine.

I know I may sound whiney,

But I don't really care.

Her breasts look soft and squishy,

Her hair is big and bushy.

I know this may sound pushy,

But take off your underwear.

I want to lick your ("Oh My Word!")

Touch and taste every bit.

And then rub it on your tit,

I'm so horny, it's not fair.

Hermione sat on her bed with her mouth gaping wide, and her eyes nearly out of their sockets.

After a few moments of shock, her brain finally kicked in, This has got to be a joke. A cruel, mean, sick joke! I mean really, who would write such gross, disgusting…. And as she thought she rose and started to crumple the letter with anger, …rude comments to someone! And they must know that I'm dating Ron! I mean the nerve!

Hermione grabbed for her suitcase underneath her bed, kicked it open and threw the crumpled letter into the case, along with the previous letter that she had kept. She pushed the suitcase back under the bed with her foot, and then threw herself onto her bed.

She laid there, arms crossed and fuming, but after a few minutes of anger and rage, she couldn't decide what she was mad about.

Was it the fact that some one was playing a sick joke on her? Or, was she mad that this mystery person really did not exist?

After the talk that she had had with Harry on the night of her birthday, she had quickly convinced herself that this mystery person was in a single or group of girls, planning to make Hermione's last year at Hogwarts as embarrassing as possible.

But it was her secret hope, a very secret one that only popped up in late night dreams, that this mystery man actually did exist.

And the strange thing was Hermione was never really sure why she was so attracted to such a man, when she had a perfectly fine man already.

It was true, Ron was more than Hermione could ever ask for; he was good looking, funny, kind and caring, and so many other things, not to mention one of her best friends.

And had he not made her a promise?

She looked down at the ring on her finger, the only piece of jewelry she wore, and remembered Ron saying, "I promise to be faithful"

But I am faithful! She thought back angrily, I haven't done anything wrong! I do love Ron; I love him with all of my heart, but…

But this mystery man gave Hermione something that Ron could not at the moment give; he gave her sex.

The sex wasn't real of course, as it only occurred in dreams. But those dreams were so real at times that Hermione had woken up in the middle of the night with such a pleasurable sensation between her legs that she was scared that she might have been moaning in her sleep.

Of course she did find it odd, that she was having sexual dreams about a man she knew nothing about instead of Ron, and she truly did feel ashamed; during the day.

But when night time came, and Hermione lay in her bed with the curtains drawn around her, she hoped and prayed for another visit from her mystery man, one that would satisfy her sexual needs.

For now that she had experienced it with Ron, the need to have sex was constantly on her mind. It was such a strange thing. Before, when she was a virgin, she thought about sex, but not in the way she did now.

Before it was something to imagine; something to picture and guess about.

But now she felt it, felt it with her whole body. She wanted it, needed it, it was like a drug that you just couldn't stop taking.

When she had expressed these yearnings with Ron, he had admitted that he had the same cravings, but of course he had a way of dealing with them.

When he suggested that Hermione do the same, she at first put off the idea, and then ended up trying it, but became sexually frustrated because she could not achieve the same high that she got from sex.

Of course the dreams were not completely satisfying either; they merely gave her a high for those few short moments after she awoke.

But those moments, as rare as they were, were to be cherished. They made her feel like a woman… they made her feel sexy and comfortable in her own skin…

They made her feel wanted.

What a feeling it was to feel wanted, to feel attractive and pretty, to know that men wanted you and needed you. And that was the feeling she got from those dreams and those few glorious moments in the morning. It was something she really couldn't explain or express, it was embedded deep within her soul.

And as Hermione lay on her bed, her mind running with a million thoughts, feelings, emotions and urges, she didn't notice the owl that was perched outside of one of the dorm windows.