“What do you mean, mum thinks a couples version would sell quite well?!” Fred shouted at the fireplace in he and George’s joke shop. “You told mum?!”

“She saw the review in Witch Weekly,” Ginny said, looking annoyed. “Don’t look at me. I’m just the messenger.”

“Good Lord.” Fred groaned. “I can-“ he looked at her. “There was a review?”

“Oh yes,” Ginny said grinning. “This morning’s edition.”

“They aren’t even out on the market yet!” Fred spluttered.

“I gave Lavender one for her birthday.”

“Well, it’s nice to know you weren’t using them all. We were starting to get worried.” George chuckled as he entered the room. He was holding a mug of tea and carrying the morning’s owl deliveries.

“Give me Witch Weekly.” Fred demanded.

“You get Witch Weekly?” Ginny asked, confused.

“Wanted to stake it out as an advertising venture,” George said shrugging. “That sort of thing gets expensive. Well, and the recepies are helpful.”

“There are some interesting little charms in there,” Fred muttered embarrassed.

“I was wondering if you two were managing to feed yourselves,” Ginny said as she stepped through into the twins joke shop. She was still in her bed clothes.

“Late night?” Fred said chuckling.

“You have no idea,” Ginny said sourly. “Bill is an idiot.”

“Still making mistakes at work?” Fred winced as he flipped through the magazine George had handed him.

“At least he gives me a heads up if he thinks something is a bit off.” Ginny tried not to look grouchy.

“Something ‘a bit off’ kept you up all night?” George frowned.

“We’re not talking about it.” Ginny muttered. “I think it’s time for him to come home.”

There was a sudden loud bang as the front door of the joke shop was kicked in. Splintered wood ricocheted off displays and Hermione stepped primly through the door. She waved her wand and the door repaired itself.

“Know how to make an entrance?” Ginny squeaked as she peered out from behind a display of edible tattoos.

“The shop was closed. What did you make?” Hermione demanded of George, who was still frozen in place from shock. “How did you get that book?”

“What book?” Ginny asked curiously eyeing the wand still in her hand.

“The Erised Annals.” Hermione fumed. “That book disappeared years ago.”

“How did you know?” Fred breathed as he came out from behind a display of Flickering Fuzzy Feathers: Toys for Your Feline Friends.

“How could I not know, after that!?” Hermione thundered.

“What happened?” Fred asked, trying not to smile.

“None of your business,” Hermione said hotly, her face turning a fierce shade of red.

“Good lord,” Ginny laughed.

“Let’s just say it was unexpected,” Hermione muttered.

“Was it good?” Fred asked curiously. Hermione shot a look at him. “I didn’t ask what it was.” Fred raised his hands innocently in front of him.

“It was—“Hermione seemed to be searching for a word.

“Phenomenal.” Ginny said quietly.

“That well, eh?” Fred laughed.

“Parts of it weren’t funny at all,” Hermione said seriously. “It really does seek out what the user desires.”

“Can you tell us any of what happened?” George asked, frowning.

“The fantasy ended and it didn’t end,” Hermione said crossing her arms in front of her.

“You’re complaining because it gave you multiple orgasms?” George asked seriously.

“I’m complaining because my villain stopped being so villainy at the end, declared me satisfied, and went off to entertain our children,” Hermione registered George’s reaction.

“Are you serious?” George said slowly.

“Villainy?” Fred repeated. Ginny smacked him on the shoulder.

“Curious,” George said and he produced a red leather covered notebook from his robes. “Had you climaxed?”

“Yes,” Hermione said, blushing. “Twice.”

George raised his eyebrows, but continued scribbling in his notebook.

“We got the book from Dung.” Fred confessed. “No one seemed to miss it, so we never said anything.”

“Do you know how valuable that book is?!” Hermione thundered.

“More than the 10 Galleons we paid for it?” Fred hazarded.

“You have no idea.” Hermione shook her head. “Take it back, boys.”

“Think we’ll get our money back?” Fred asked. Ginny smacked him again.

“Well, that wasn’t the reaction with us,” George said, flipping his book shut. “When it was over it was over. Ginny?”

“When the Hornets were done with me I got chucked out,” Ginny said cheerfully. Fred and George made gagging noises.

“Dear God, woman,” Fred said trying not to laugh. “You need some time off.”

“Tell me about it.” Ginny made a face at him.

“Did that happen with all three of them?” Fred asked.

“No,” Ginny began. “The other time it-“

“Not you! Her!” George almost shouted.

“No.” Hermione frowned. “I think the first one was normal.”

“Maybe your needs changed,” Fred said thoughtfully.

“Who was it?” George asked, curiously.

Hermione hesitated and gestured for him to bend down for her to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows rose so high they disappeared under the fringe of red resting on his brow.

“Well,” George said as he straightened. “You two!” He looked at Fred and Ginny. “Go somewhere else.”

Ginny huffed, but followed Fred up the stairs in the back of the shop that led upstairs to the twin’s apartment.

“What else happened?”

Hermione blushed ferociously, but told George about both her daydreams.

“We were actually worried it might be Ron, you know.” George thoughtfully reached out and picked up a piece of red candy out of a dish near the register.

“Are you serious?” Hermione looked disgusted.

“I just wanted to make sure women weren’t going to flood us with nasty letters about old boyfriends.” George leveled a look at her. “They were prototypes, Hermione. We really don’t know. We did warn you.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ll tell you about the next one if it’s quirky.”

“Thanks.” George smiled at her and popped the candy into his mouth. “You know, Snape is still teaching up at the school.”

“Shush!” Hermione made a face at him, but she was smiling.


A few days later Hermione sat on the edge of her bed. A yellow sparkly twist of paper lay on her bedside table.

She wasn’t particularly in the mood, but she was insanely curious. Perhaps if she had no physical needs it would act normally. Her stomach fluttered as she poked at the twist of paper with her finger. She rolled her eyes at herself and snatched it up before she changed her mind.

She felt a warm breeze. The sun shined merrily down on Hermione and her picnic basket. She wore a full, light pink skirt and a loose white blouse. A full basket lay before her. She wasn’t sure about fantasy food, but she reached out and touched an apple. It seemed real. She picked it up and smelled it. It smelled real. She tentatively pushed a fingernail through the peel. Juice flowed from the broken skin of the fruit. She bit into it.

Ron stepped out from behind a tree, fastening the top button of his trousers. Hermione choked.

“Are you alright, dearest?” Ron cried out, hurrying to her side. He crouched on the blanket beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Who let you in here?!” Hermione demanded as she shrugged his hand off.

“I beg your pardon?” Ron asked, confused. His gaze seemed to be fixed over her shoulder.

Hermione turned to see a cloud of dust rising from the road, hidden behind a grove of trees. “What’s that?”

“Bandits or gypsies!” Ron said leaping to his feet.

“Oh, good” said Hermione with relief. Ron gave her a strange look.

“Hysteria won’t help us,” Ron said, his voice shaking. “You should hide.”

“In this?” Hermione looked down at her clothing. It certainly didn’t blend in well with the surrounding English countryside.

Horsemen appeared on the road and Ron began looking shaky. Hermione glanced at him and tried not to grin. Her grin faltered when she realized she didn’t recognize any of the men on the horses.

Thundering hooves stopped near them and four men wearing dark clothing and masks pointed pistols at them. Two other men dismounted and approached Hermione and Ron. They held small knives.

“My money is attached to my belt,” Ron stammered at the men.

Hermione watched as a stocky man with blue eyes looked her up and down. His blade was steady in his hand, but she got the impression he wasn’t really intending on using it. There was a small drop of sweat winding its way down his cheek. It was a quite warm day. Hermione wondered how long they had traveled.

“Fine,” said the other dismounted man. He was thin and tall. This man pulled Ron’s money from him and looked at Hermione’s picnic basket. He grinned as he flipped the top shut and grabbed its handle. “And lunch. How nice.”

“You have it all.” Ron was beginning to look angry. “You can go now.”

“Not all of it, boy.” The stocky one said softly, still looking at Hermione. She smiled nervously.

Before Ron could say a word, the thin man hit him on the temple with the hilt of his blade. Ron fell heavily to the picnic blanket. Hermione grinned giddily.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, girl,” the stocky man said in a low dangerous tone.

“The easy way is?” Hermione heard her voice shake slightly. These daydreams were realistic, weren’t they? She was almost afraid of the blade now pointed at her.

“You come quietly.” The thin man leered at her.

“I can do that,” Hermione said.

She was lifted to the back of a horse gently and she held on as they bounced back down the road the way the robbers had come.

After a few miles they made an abrupt turn into the woods surrounding the area. The men dismounted and one of them led the horses off into the thicket. The other men and Hermione went into another direction.

After a while they reached a small clearing where tents and small carts were set up. Hermione couldn’t see how they had been wheeled in. Perhaps they were shrunk down and carried in. Colorful scarves of deep purples, greens, and blues hung from the trees and large swaths of cloth sectioned off parts of the small grove.

Some people sat around a small fire. They chattered in a language Hermione didn’t understand. When the men put the picnic basket down next to them a small cheer rose up. A few skinny children ran out from behind scarves to investigate. One of the men held her upper arm tightly and marched her to a larger wooden cart Hermione felt a corner of her mouth quirk up.

The man holding her knocked on the door on the cart and put his ear to the door. He opened the door and stuck his head in. Hermione could see nothing but a black cloth on the other side of the door. The man holding her spoke in a different language. A deep familiar voice came back from the other side in the same strange speech.

The man holding her looked back at her, then back at the veil. “Pretty.”

A response came.

Hermione blushed as she was lifted and shoved through the veil.

The room was decadent compared to its surroundings outside. Large silk pillows lay all over the raised second half of the room, making a giant bed. The same scarves that separated areas outside were draped over the walls and hung loosely from the ceiling.

A small desk was against one wall. Small chests and cabinets were lined against the same wall. The windows were shuttered closed from the inside.

Severus Snape lay on the bed in tight black trousers and a billowing black shirt. His hair hung loose around his shoulders and the smell of sandalwood filled the air. When he motioned to her she stepped forward. He said something she couldn’t understand. She looked at him questioningly.

He took a wand out and pointed it at the door behind her. It bolted itself shut. When he smiled at her he looked feral. She shivered and smiled shyly. He crooked his finger at him and she went to him.

Instead of shying away from him, Hermione slid one hand across his shoulder, up the side of his neck and entwined her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. She pressed her mouth to his and slid her other hand around his waist. She slid her tongue into his mouth and scratched the back of his neck lightly.

Snape seemed surprised, but grabbed her around the waist and threw her onto the silk pillows. Hermione landed on her back with a squeak of surprise. He went for her neck and as he nipped at the tender skin she let out a great sigh of satisfaction.

He pulled away from her and looked down at her flushed face. “Lovely.”

She reached down and rested a hand on one of his hips. She squeezed tightly. He had a sharp intake of breath and looked at her. She growled quietly. She felt him throb against her leg.

Snape groaned as he ground into her. “You didn’t think I’d send for you, did you?” He whispered to her surprise. “Don’t worry. My men thought it was chance. I told him to rob your young lord and to take a wench if there was one available.”

“To keep up appearances?” Hermione ventured.

“I wouldn’t damage your reputation. I know that kind of thing is important to your people. Your family.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised when he reached for the neckline of her blouse and ripped it down the front. She gasped before she began laughing. This was brilliant. She hadn’t had this much fun in years.

Snape growled at her before he grinned widely and began fighting her skirts up. She reached for his trousers and helped him unbutton quickly. When he sprung free she guided him into her. He let out a great sigh of relief before he started thrusting.

Hermione cried out as she adjusted to his size. He kissed her gently on the cheek as his fingers worked around the back of her neck and raked at her hair.

Hermione fought his shirt off and he tried to help remove hers while continuing thrusting. After they collided heads, he reached for his wand and spelled their clothing gone.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer to her. “Make me come.”

“First you won’t let me, and then you begin making demands!” Snape chuckled. Hermione smiled. Apparently this was a consummation.

“Maybe I’m full of surprises,” Hermione teased. The pressure inside her certainly was intense. It was making her head spin.

“Full of beauty.” Snape whispered near her ear as he gently placed his hands on her wrists and held her down. “Full of love. Full of tongue.” He flicked her lips with his tongue and plunged forward when she opened her lips for him. “Full of cock.” He thrusted forward roughly.

She snaked her hands from out of his grasp. She placed both hands on his chest and shoved him off of her. He landed on his backside on the silk cushions, a look of confusion on his face. Then she pounced.

“Full of shite,” she looked at him accusingly with a twinkle in her eye.

“Never said I wasn’t.” Snape shrugged back. She sunk down on him and he groaned.

Hermione certainly liked this Snape. Although he wasn’t as meticulous as the other fantasies had been, this was a liberating experience. It was almost like he was a real person. She blinked back an unexpected sting in her eyes. She shouldn’t let herself get attached to fantasy men. There was something defiantly unhealthy about making this a regular indulgence.

Hermione felt his fingers dig into her, slamming her to him. Hermione reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair. “You won’t please me like that.”

She watched as he smirked at her and began grinding up into her as she sunk down on him. “That’s more like it.”

He whispered a word she didn’t understand, but she understood he was calling her a name and it was anything but flattering in the traditional sense.

She released the grip on his hair. “Please?”

He groaned loudly and stroked her hips with his fingertips. A burst of laughter escaped her as she felt herself throb around him. “Please?”

“Do you feel you have to beg?” He purred at her.

She let out a whimper as a reply. He watched as her face contorted and she came around him. He lay her back onto the pillows and he coaxed another climax out of her.

Hermione lay exhausted and sweaty on the silk pillows as Severus reached his climax, his face contorted and his fingers biting into one of her breasts.

She lay in his arms, feeling the daydream begin to fade away from her.

Severus looked her spent body up and down and quirked a grin at her.

“Facinating.” Severus kissed her on the forehead. “Those boys are going to make a fortune.”

Hermione felt her stomach drop as she spun away from her daydream.