Naughty

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters.

Hermione sat in an overstuffed chair with Ron, George, and Fred; George was twirling Hermione's hair lightly in his fingers while he played chess with Ron.

"Plans tonight, Hermione?" George asked, tracing circles on the small of her back.

Hermione sighed. "Just studying. Has anyone seen Ginny?" Hermione had been with the boys all day (and had really been with George a couple of hours ago in the bathroom) and she needed a girl to talk to. Just then, the portrait hole opened and a smiling Harry crawled through, followed by a crumpled-looking Ginny.

"Ugh," Ron said. "Do they have to flaunt it?"

Hermione stood up and walked over to the pair. "Hey Harry, can I steal Ginny from you?"

Hermione lead Ginny to a seat over by the fire.

"What's up?" The redhead asked.

"Nothing really, I just craved some estrogen."

Ginny smiled. "All of a sudden? That's not like you."

"Well, actually…there is something I want to ask you." She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Okay, this is going to sound odd, but do you ever…er…fantasize?"

"Fantasize?"

"Um…about sexual things?"

Ginny stared blankly at Hermione for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"What? Why would you want to know that? Well, of course I do."

"Do you do it…do you do it about anyone other than Harry?"

Ginny shrugged. "Sometimes. Why? Is something wrong between you and George?" She held a hand up. "Please, no details about my brother."

Hermione laughed nervously. "Um—no, nothing's wrong," she said, although she didn't tell Ginny that the sex had gotten rather boring.

Ginny smiled slyly. "Who have you been fantasizing about? Come on…I won't tell anyone."

"Oh, um…" she looked around. "Just, you know…well anyway, I have to be going." She stood up suddenly. "Thanks, Ginny!"

Ginny smiled and shook her head as Hermione smoothed her skirt and went upstairs to the dorm to study in private. She had already finished her Transfiguration essay, and she'd read up on Arithmancy to last her until seventh year. The only homework she had left was for Professor Snape. She rummaged through her bag, looking for her Potions book.

"Where is it?" she said aloud. She dumped the entire contents of her bag onto the bed—her Potions book was not among them.

"Oh no," Hermione fretted. "I must have left it in his classroom."

She stood up and ran downstairs.

"Harry, may I use your Invisibility Cloak?"

"What—why?"

"I left something in Snape's classroom…"

Harry rolled his eyes, went upstairs, and came back with the cloak a moment later.

"Be careful," he said, handing it to her.

"Would you like me to come with you?" George asked.

"Oh—no, that's fine, I'll be right back, don't worry about it…"

Hermione's bare legs were treated to an uncomfortable chill as she weaved down to Snape's dungeon. She wondered if she would even be able to get in once she arrived. She put her hand on the door and pushed—it opened easily, and once inside she understood why Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, ruthlessly scratching rolls of parchment with a red pen—presumably essays. He looked up at the door curiously and raised his wand.

"Who's there?" he said, standing up to his full height and pointing his wand directly at Hermione.

"Fuck," she whispered, shivering under her cloak. Well, she had already been caught…should she run…?

"I can hear you breathing," Snape growled, stepping out from behind his desk. Hermione sighed and swiftly pulled off the cloak.

"Miss Granger?" he said, eyeing her nastily, but he lowered his wand.

"Sorry Professor, I left my Potions book here and—"

"Oh," he said, cutting her off. "You were the irresponsible fool. Well, if you must know, I took the liberty of bringing that book to my classroom. They're very valuable, you see, and I didn't want it to get lost."

"Oh, okay…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to leave it…could I have it?"

Snape swept toward her. "You don't really deserve it. I did catch you drifting off in class today."

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot as the man of her most secret and strange sexual desires stood before her, unaware that his naked image lay restless in Hermione's head.

"Come on then, you silly girl," Snape snapped, draping past her. Hermione grabbed the cloak and hurried after him.

"Thank you—"

"There's no need to speak."

Hermione blushed as he mouthed those words, but fortunately, he was walking in front of her and didn't notice.

"Wait here," Snape said when they reached his room, and he shuffled inside. He came back shortly with the book and shoved it at her.

"Do not leave it again."

"Thanks," Hermione said, clutching the book to her chest. "I won't."

Snape leaned over her and placed a hand on the wall.

"And if I were you, I would advise you not to go wandering about at night anymore…" his eyes studied her. "Even if it is to ensure you achieve an A on my assignments."

Hermione bit her lip and turned away.

"Whoa!" she yelped, as something heavy hit the crown of her head, and the last thing she saw before she fainted was a pale, worried face…

When she woke, she was in a most curious place. A number of bright, spinning trinkets hung from the ceiling, and there was an impressive bookshelf lined with various literatures. At first sight, Hermione thought she might be in heaven, but someone sitting at the foot of the bed cleared his throat. Hermione gasped and looked up to see Professor Snape staring down at her.

"Peeves dropped a tea kettle on your head," he said. "Not exactly your day, is it?"

Hermione looked around, placing a hand to her head. "Why didn't you take me to Nurse Pomfrey?" She finally asked, sitting up. She winced immediately and Snape reached forward to ease her back down.

"You probably just have a minor concussion," Snape said. "I can make you something for your head quicker than the Nurse. Rest your head for now."

Hermione watched Snape cross the room to busy himself with some ingredients.

"May I ask you something, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, peering up at her.

"Erm…okay," Hermione said, closing her eyes in an attempt to ease the throbbing pain in her head.

"What were you—a precise, thorough, hard-working student—daydreaming about in my class today?"

Hermione's eyes shot open and she looked at him.

"Nothing," she lied. Snape filled a small cup with his potion and walked over to her, handing her the cup. She took it and sipped it slowly—it tasted like cherries.

"It strikes me as odd," he continued, "that you would harbor such fantasies about me."

Hermione coughed up her drink and looked up at him in shock. Then, feeling incredibly moronic, she remembered Harry telling her that Snape could read minds. She opened her mouth to protest, but she knew it was futile now. Instead, she took another sip of her potion.

"I'm sorry," she muttered.

"Explain it to me," Snape said softly.

"…explain what?"

"Explain what happens next in this fantasy of yours."

Hermione gaped at him, setting her cup down. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well?" he pressed.

She took a deep breath and looked down at her toes.

"How…how much did you see…?"

Snape smirked and sat down beside her. "I was taking off your wet knickers."

Hermione blushed madly and cleared her throat, trying to look anywhere but at Snape.

"Does this embarrass you?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said firmly, looking up at him slowly. "Are you embarrassed that you are entertaining the fantasy of a 15-year-old girl?"

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"Tell me," he repeated. "What happens after I take off…" he ran both hands up her skirt and pulled her panties down slowly. "…your wet knickers?"

Hermione closed her eyes, savoring Snape's touch as his fingers grazed her thighs.

"I—" she began. Her panties were dropped to the floor and she opened her eyes to look into Snape's.

"If you want," Snape whispered, grazing her thigh. "I can show you what I think would happen…"

Snape locked eyes with Hermione and pulled off her shoes.

"I don't want you to speak," Snape said. "Don't you dare make a sound…" he crawled up onto the bed. "…unless I ask you to."

"Let's make you more comfortable," he said, and he reached forward to unbutton her blouse. It slid off easily in his hands and he placed a cool hand on her cheek.

"You're burning up," he said. "In a fuss to get out of this clothing?"

Hermione unfastened her bra and placed it on the floor. Then Snape did something unexpected—he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a sweet, gentle kiss, better than any of Hermione's daydreams, and she placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling him in closer; she craved more of his saccharine taste.

He pulled away, grabbed her by the ankles, and pulled her down so that she lay on her back. Hermione watched anxiously as he sat between her legs and freed himself of his robes. He was pale, but he was built nicely—his arms strong, his stomach flat. He grabbed a black scarf from his bedpost and tied it around her eyes. She could only hear the rustle of fabric as he undressed.

"What was it like?" he asked. "You can speak," he added.

"What was what like?"

Her small hand was taken in his and she felt him leaning over her; he placed her hand on the front of his boxers and she could feel his erection through the thin fabric. Her body ached for more, and he gave it to her.

"This," he whispered, placing her hand on the real thing.

"I…" she started, struggling for words to describe it properly. She pouted in frustration and Snape let her hand go.

"Is it too much for you?" he asked. Hermione shook her head.

She felt his fingers graze her legs and he pulled off her skirt, the only thing remaining of her clothing. Then he sat her up, pulled back the sheets, and settled her beneath them. He took off the blindfold and Hermione saw that the lights had been turned off, and Snape got beneath the blankets with her. He immediately placed her hands above her head and held her down firmly by the wrists. He lightly touched her lips with his. Hermione went to move her hands and he let her, allowing her to grip his shoulders as he pushed into her, grabbing her hips and kissing her again. Hermione let out a small moan and Snape's movements became rougher.

His lips pulled away.

"And what was this like?" he breathed, closing his eyes and clutching her side as he pushed deeper.

"What?" she gasped.

"Fucking me. What was it like?" he asked, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist. "Was it like this?"

"I—" she struggled between moans. "I never got far with this part. You interrupted me."

"I see," he said, slowing down so that he could speak more clearly. Hermione whimpered and he sped up again. "Well," he whispered in her ear. "I hope this makes up for it."