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Patented Daydream Charms	By : Padfoot Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 24585 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter 3

Hermione
stood in front of the full-length mirror next to the bathroom sink. She had towelled herself dry after her
relaxing shower, but had ceased all attempt in getting dressed after passing by
the mirror. Hermione thought she
looked different, but couldn�t pinpoint what it was that had changed. Wet drops of water dripped from her damp
hair onto her bare back as her gaze travelled over her naked body. During puberty, she had often found
herself standing naked in front of the mirror, inspecting the changes in her
body with mortification. Now at
seventeen, her bodily transformations had somewhat stagnated, besides an
occasional loss or gain in weight.
Rationally, Hermione knew she looked the same as she did yesterday, but
still couldn�t help but search for a change.


Hermione considered her face with a critical eye. She didn�t have striking facial features
like Parvati Patil for instance, but she did have a hint of cuteness. She had a heart shaped face, full lips,
and a button nose with a light dusting of freckles on its bridge that gave her a
sweet, girly look. If she could
change anything about her face she�d ask for more pronounced cheek-bones, but
she didn�t want them that much as to fiddle around with incantations or
artificial implants.


Hermione lifted her hands and slowly let them travel over her chest, her
fingers following the contours of her breasts. She lightly cupped the two globes in her
hands, noticing that her hands were too small to fully envelope them. She remembered looking at them with the
eyes of an early teen, feeling alarmed at the seemingly unstoppable rate her
breasts had been growing. She had
actually been oblivious to her advanced development in comparison to her female
peers until other people had started pointing it out to her. It was then that her bosom had become a
thorn to her eye. Parvati and
Lavender used to tease her about them, callously slipping her snide comments
like mentioning that her shoulder-pads had slipped. Seamus had been less subtle in his
taunts, often asking Hermione blatantly if she�d mind jumping up and down for a
minute. For goodness sake, they weren�t that big!

After
a few months her female peers had started catching up with her somewhat more
speedily development, and she was glad to find that since then her breasts had
stopped being the focus of much unwanted attention. Even though she had outgrown her
insecurity on this topic a long time ago, Hermione subconsciously she still
chose to wear the kind of clothes that hid her curvy figure. Her breasts weren�t perfect and she
doubted she would pass the pencil-test, but she had grown to like them. They were soft, had a nice shape and
were fun to play with.

She
let her hands drift lower, her fingers brushing past the damp skin on the
underside of her breast, which she had overlooked when towelling herself dry,
and let them rest on her tummy.
Hermione changed positions so she could look at herself in profile,
distended her belly and lightly slapped it with her fingers, watching the skin
wobble a bit as she did so. She
sighed, realising she�d probably never get rid of that little pouch of fat on
her lower stomach. She wished she
could charm it so it would relocate to her bum, because she had always thought
it seemed like someone had flattened her posterior with a clothing iron.

Hermione
was well aware that most of Hogwarts� male population openly drooled over Madame
Rosmerta, the curvy matron of The Three Broomsticks. She wasn�t skinny, so a curvy figure
shouldn�t be an issue unless she wanted to pursue a carrier in modelling (which
she didn�t, with an active dislike for having her picture taken on top of her
motivations in making that decision).
Hermione had long legs though, albeit them being a bit bowed. The one thing she could shamelessly say
she liked about her body were her feet; they would never be considered petite or
feminine, but they had a nice shape and she liked to take good care of
them. Hermione realised that it was
a bit ironic that the sole thing she had any real vanity for had to be covered
up with socks and shoes.

Overall,
Hermione found she shouldn�t have any serious complains about her body. She wasn�t perfect, but she might even
dare to go as far as calling herself pretty. Had anyone else thought so, though,
that�d be a whole other matter.

Hermione
gnawed on the inside on her cheek while contemplating. Perhaps that was it; for once, someone
had actually openly told her he found her pretty. Okay, he hadn�t exactly used those
words, but what else can you call it when someone, for example, told you he had
been so aroused by you he had trouble controlling himself from throwing you onto
a table in a crowded room and shagging you rotten? Hermione sighed, moved away from the
mirror and went to get dressed. She
knew that the person who had said those things to her wasn�t real, that it had
all been programmed, but she couldn�t stop feeling something twinge inside when
thinking back on his words, on his acts.
Truth be told, she hated to think about it. She didn�t like realising that she
actually yearned to hear that she was pretty and desirable, that it meant that
much to her.

Hermione
had always proclaimed that it was someone�s spirit that really counted, that all
the rest was just packaging, and what was important was how you perceived
yourself, and to let others be damned.
Now she had been confronted with the notion that she had liked being
desired for her looks. What made
matters even more hopeless was that in reality no one had actually said that to
her, no one had actually told her she was stunning or desirable besides an
imaginary character.

   Hermione felt like slapping
herself. Why did she always have to
over think things? The only reason
she had actually used the Daydream Charm was to get back at Ron and all she
ended up doing was make herself more miserable. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant! He was probably downstairs
tongue-wrestling with Lavender, and here she was pining over the fact
that no one thought she was pretty except �Malfoy�.

This
time Hermione actually did slap herself; a bit too harshly at that. Her skin throbbed where her had hand
contacted her cheek. She rubbed her
hand against her sore cheek, irately mumbling to herself for her pointless
display of self-abuse. Hermione
knew she had to keep her mind in check though; she had to remind herself not to
think of the men in her dreams as Malfoy; they just looked like
him. Hermione still couldn�t figure
out why he was in her dreams, but she ought not to start confusing
Ferret-Boy with the two fictional Malfoy-resembling men.

Hermione
didn�t really understand the use of having Malfoy look like her
fantasy-lovers.   If she could
choose anyone from all the men she knew as a fictional-lover, only based on
their looks, she would not have picked Malfoy. She had never found him to be all that
handsome. She knew that many girls swooned over Draco Malfoy�s looks, but,
perhaps due to her close familiarity with his wretched personality, whenever
Hermione had considered his appearance, nothing more came to mind but the words;
pale, pointy and skinny. After
having seen him in her dreams, though, Hermione thought she had to revaluate her
opinions and regard his handsomeness as being quite... adequate. It was refreshing to see Malfoy�s
usually cold grey eyes burning with desire, his pale skin hot and sweaty beneath
her fingers, his pointy face free from its usual sneer and contorted with ardour
and simple want. Yes,
passion oddly suited Malfoy.

When
Hermione was fully dressed and had fixed her hair, she turned around while
looking in the mirror to check her appearance, the fabric of her lilac dress
rustling under her movements. After
quickly applying some mascara, she exited the bathroom and headed downstairs to
wait for her date to pick her up.

*


Hermione was very tempted to go off men entirely. First Ron gave her the cold shoulder,
then her worst enemy started appearing in her highly erotic dreams, and then she
ended up with yet another boy on the worst date imaginable. The stupid thing about it all was that
Hermione had actually asked him out without having the slightest interest
in him and knowing full well they were a terrible match. She had actually been rather surprised
with herself for having found the courage to ask a guy out. She wasn�t very confident when it came
to boys and the thought of asking one out and receiving a �No� (perhaps even
accompanied with laughter) would have made her self-esteem plummet towards the
ground. Perhaps momentary insanity
due to Ron�s behaviour and Malfoy�s unexpected appearances made her more
courageous.

Hermione
had been pleased with Rons� peevish reaction to finding out she was taking
Cormac McLaggen to Slughorn�s Christmas party, but just after having escaped
being molested by said date, who had unceremoniously pulled her under the
mistletoe, Hermione was sincerely starting to doubt all this was worth it. Hermione ducked her head and squeezed
herself through the crowd, trying to avoid being seen by her date, snidely
thinking to herself how full of brilliant ideas she was these days.


�Hermione! Hermione!�


�Harry!� Hermione exclaimed in relief, �There you are, thank goodness!
Hi, Luna!�


�What�s happened to you?� asked Harry.


�Oh, I�ve just escaped � I mean, I�ve just left Cormac,� Hermione said.
�Under the mistletoe.�


�Serves you right for coming with him,� he told her
severely.


�I thought he�d annoy Ron most,� she said dispassionately. �I debated for a while about Zacharias
Smith, but I thought, on the whole ��


�You considered Smith?� said Harry, revolted.



�Yes,
I did, and I�m starting to wish I�d chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp look a
gentleman. Let�s go this way, we�ll
be able to see him coming, he�s so tall...�


After a brief conversation with professor Trelawney and some whinging
from Harry about Quidditch and Ron, Hermione was forced to make a run for it
again when she saw Cormac heading their way. She ducked low and swiftly emerged into
the crowd. Hermione was quite
annoyed; as if it wasn�t enough that she had to spend the entire night running
away from her date, Harry was also on her case about Ron. Ron,
Ron, Ron! Why
couldn�t Harry stick up for her for a change? She would have asked Ron to the party,
but he had made it very clear to her that he wasn�t interested and she
should try getting off with McLaggen; so that�s what she�d done. If Ron would rather spend his evening
with Lavender draped around him and pretend Hermione didn�t exist, then so be
it; she could ask out anyone she wanted in his stead, even Cormac
�I-Made-A-Hundred-Great-Saves-And-Want-The-Whole-World-To-Know� McLaggen.

After
quickly making her way to the other side of the room, Hermione suddenly had a
clear view of the main entrance, through which she saw Malfoy being dragged by
the ear by an angry looking Filch.
Hermione had an automatic response to seeing Malfoy that was quite
alarming; she was so relieved to see a familiar friendly face that she openly
relaxed and smiled at him. Luckily,
Hermione caught herself before anyone saw.
For goodness sake; Malfoy was not familiar, nor was he friendly and it
was definitely unwise to smile at him.

Hermione
looked around to see if anyone was watching, opened the door and exited the
room. She honestly was not going to
stay another second in there, both annoyed with McLaggen�s presence as with
Malfoy�s.


Hermione went up to Gryffindor tower with long, heavy strides, and
released her hair from its confines along the way. When she entered her dorm, she quickly
slipped out of her dress and put on her pyjamas. Her roommates were still out, either at
the party or someplace else, so she found herself alone and very tempted to use
another Daydream Charm to help her relax.
She bit her lip in hesitation.
By now, Hermione was certain that Malfoy�s presence in her dreams wasn�t
a fluke. He had been in them twice
and she just knew he was going to be in the next one. If she were to use the charm again, she
would not be using it to test or confirm a theory; she would be using it because
she enjoyed it, enjoyed being touched by Malfoy. Hermione wished she didn�t like it, but
she did. She had never felt so
alive before Malfoy had made her feel the way she did in those dreams.


Hermione groaned, both in defeat as in eagerness. She took another box out of her trunk
and opened it to remove the potion, swallowed it, said the charm, laid herself
back against the mattress and closed her eyes...

Hermione�s footsteps echoed though
the hallway, the only light source brightening the night�s darkness coming from
the many torches hanging on the marble walls. Their light depicted her moving shadow
against the marble floor and walls.
Hermione had done her duty for the night, making sure the Holy Fire would
burn until morning, and returned to her quarters to retire for the night. She was one of the eighteen women who
inhabited the temple, eighteen daughters of noble Roman families who were chosen
at an early age to devote thirty years of their lives to the goddess Vesta. Their chief function was to maintain the
undying
fire in the shrine of Vesta, Goddess of the Hearth. They were called Vestal Virgins, for
they were not allowed to submit themselves to the sins of the flesh, bound to a
vow of chastity. The Vestal duty
brought great honour and afforded greater privileges to women who served in that
role. Vestals were emancipated and
so, free to administer their own affairs without a guardian, they were given
honour, had the right to make a will and possessed luxurious accommodations at
state expense.

Hermione
stifled a yawn while approaching her quarters, her hands travelling to her hair
to remove the white ribbon weaved into it.
Each day, as it was the Vestal way of life, she was dressed in the
distinctive clothing and hairstyle of a Roman bride. Hermione couldn�t wait to go to bed;
these late nights in preparation for the June Vestalia were always very
demanding of her body. She�d risen
before dawn and had spent the large part of the day making holy cakes, which
were called mola salsa, following ritual
prescriptions.

Only
a few steps away from her bedroom door, she suddenly halted in her tracks,
hearing rapid footsteps approaching her.
She�d thought she had been the last woman awake, so she was curious to
find out who was still out of bed even though Hermione was the last one on
duty. Before she had time to turn
around to locate the source of the noise, she found her mouth brusquely covered
by a hand. Her scream was muffled
when a strong body pushed her forwards into her quarters, closing the door
behind them. Once inside, he, for
she could feel by the strength and body shape of her assailant it was a man,
dragged her along towards the end of the room, pulling her down to the empty
space behind her bed. Her back was
held against his front; his arm encircled around her waist, pressing her into
him. She could feel his breath
tickling the back of her neck and his chest heaving against her ribs. Hermione tried to calm herself,
panicking really wouldn�t be a constructive thing to do in this situation,
although it was really difficult not to.

�Listen,�
the man said. �I do not wish to hurt you.
I simply need you to come outside with me so people can see us together.
Do you agree?�

Hermione
frowned, her mind trying to decipher what the man wanted from her... until
understanding struck her. A Virgin
is regarded as being so sacred and divine-like that if she comes upon a criminal
being led to his execution, his life is automatically spared. As a rule, special care was taken to
prevent this sort of thing from occurring, so Hermione had never had this happen
to her. Knowing she was being held
captive by a known felon didn�t make her feel any better either. She also wasn�t totally sure how this
rule applied to an escaped prisoner who was forcing her to go along with him.
Hermione�s fear subsided, her anger flaring. Who was this man who dared to order her
around? If a person merely went
underneath the littler where a Vestal was carried on, he was put to death, so
who was this man to grab her, to even touch her?

When
his hand let go of her mouth to let her voice her answer, she said: �I refuse.�

�What
do you mean, you refuse?� he asked in surprise, twisting her partially around to
look at her. This was the first
time she saw him; a handsome man if it weren�t for his weather-beaten state of
attire and unkempt hair and beard.

�It
means: to reject, to decline, to renounce, to say no,� she replied
sarcastically.

�I
know what it means,� the man spat.
�You do not have a say in the matter. You�re coming outside with me, and
that�s that.�

�I
though you needed me to go consensually,� Hermione said. �Besides, even if we were seen together,
I can still call our meeting invalid.�

�Listen,
lady, I�m going to be sentenced to death and Praetorian guards are looking for
me as we speak. I have nothing to
lose, so I wouldn�t test my patience if I were you.�

�And
you listen to me,� she huffed. �You
wouldn�t kill me, for you still need my help, nor can you hurt me for they would
kill you on the spot. I am a
guardian of the luck of Rome and I refuse to dishonour my status by playing into
the hand of an escaped convict. You say you have nothing to lose and nor do I,
except for my honour.�

The
man didn�t reply, seeming in contemplation. Hermione had a feeling of foreboding at
seeing the wicked glint in his grey eyes when he started speaking again.

�How
about an exchange,� he said, �you set me free and you will keep your
honour?�

�Helping
you would cause me my honour,� she said impatiently as if explaining to him that
one and one is two.

�That
is not the kind of honour I�m talking about...�

Hermione
gasped when suddenly the man reached forward and cupped her breasts in his
hands. She quickly clasped her
hands over his to pry them off her breasts, but they wouldn�t budge; instead he
just clutched them more firmly.

�You
wouldn�t!� she growled.

�I
told you, I have nothing to lose,� he said. �You, on the other hand, do.�

Hermione
gasped when he moved his fingers under her hands, kneading the tender flesh of
her breasts.

�Don�t
worry, I�ve deflowered a fair few virgins in my day,� he smirked. �I�ll be
gentle.�

�You�re
bluffing,� she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

�Am
I?� he asked while quirking an eyebrow.
With the stealth and quickness of a panther, he easily pushed her smaller
frame unto her back, pried her legs apart with his knee and laid himself on top
of her.

�O
Gods!� she exclaimed at feeling him trapping her by his weight. Then his mouth was suddenly on
hers. She yelped against his lips,
both from the unfamiliar and intrusive contact as from the feel of the gold
stubble on his cheeks scratching her face.
The kiss stopped as suddenly as it had started. Hermione only had a few seconds to gulp
for air, because she quickly found her mouth covered with her hair ribbon,
probably to prevent her from screaming.
He effortlessly trapped both her hands above her head, with remarkable
ease holding her wrists together with one of his hands. It was then that she first started
considering that this convict might actually be serious about his threat.

She
trembled with fear when his mouth trailed over her jaw and neck, suckling on the
responsive skin. It wasn�t only
fear she felt, there was something else... something that closely resembled
anticipation.    He
nuzzled her breasts through the fabric of her dress while he rolled her nipples
in-between his fingers, slightly pinching.
Hermione steadily found herself getting warm. Even though she was frightened, she
started reacting to his ministrations.
She started experiencing a nagging sort of ache in the pit of her stomach
she remembered having felt on several occasions in the past. Never had the feeling been linked to any
particular circumstance, but this time the source of the bodily reaction was
unmistakable. The odd thing was
that she didn�t dislike it. She wasn�t as frightened as she probably should have
been. She had never really wondered what sex would be like; it simply didn�t
have a place in her life. She was
never fully explained how it worked, so she didn�t have sufficient imaginary to
fantasise about how it would be.
Even though it was permitted for Virgins to marry after their thirty-year
service, most of them remained celibate until their deaths.

Death. Hermione stiffened when that word popped
into her mind. She suddenly had a
vision of herself being confronted with the fact that the eternal fire had
extinguished, meaning that a Vestal Virgin had lost her virginity, and disaster
would strike Rome. Hermione knew
what happened to Virgins who had abandoned their sacred virginity. She�d be brought to the Campus
Sceleratus, near the Colline gate, a place in the city with a little ridge of
land that extends for some distance.
There, she�d be settled on a ladder that carried her down to a room. In it, would be a bed with a cover, a
lighted lamp, and some of the basic necessities of life, such as bread, water in
a bucket, milk and oil. After the
descent, the ladder would be removed and dirt would be heaped at the entrance to
the room. There, she would be left
to die.

�WAIT!�
she exclaimed, the cloth muffling her voice but her plea still audible, her eyes
were wide in fear. �Stop! I�ll do it,� she said when he removed
the ribbon from her mouth to hear her speak. �I�ll set you
free.�

�You
will?�

�I
will.�

�Do
you swear on your Goddess?�

�I
swear by Vesta that I�ll go with you and declare you a free
man.�

The
convict�s face broke out into a smirk.
Hermione marvelled at how it brightened his whole face. Then he started looking at her in a
calculating manner that made her feel rather uneasy.

�Wait,
what are you doing!?� Hermione shrieked when he suddenly started bunching up
her dress, bearing her legs and part of her thighs.

�Thanking
you for your generosity,� he answered simply.

�But...
you can�t!� she pleaded, her hands desperately grasping the convict�s
shirt.

�Lady,
you have to relax a bit,� he said calmly.
�I�m not going to rape you.
You can keep your precious virtue, but you definitely need to get
off.�

Hermione
was about to ask where or from what she was supposed to �get off�, but was
distracted when the man gently placed the palm of his hand unto her Mount of
Venus, his fingers covering the soft skin of her sex. It felt surprisingly soothing and
comforting to feel the warmth of his hand heating up her womanhood, even though
it was a very, very, private part of her body. A low guttural noise escaped her lips
when he moved his fingers along her folds and she yelped when they brushed past
a small, highly sensitive pebble she hadn�t known was there. Hermione found herself loosening her
grip on his shirt, unable to consternate on the suddenly difficult task of
keeping her fingers flexed. He kept
brushing his fingers against the little pebble until Hermione was practically
writhing, uttering soft coos and pleadings for something unknown.

She
felt something hard pressing against her thigh, but decided to pay no attention
to it, her brain too preoccupied with other things. The unfamiliar feelings running through
her body excited her and she didn�t want them to go away. Hermione wasn�t sure how many lashes
from the whip she would receive if she were caught doing this, but at this point
she�d rather be whipped than having the convict�s talented hand removed from her
body. She twined her arm around the man�s neck, drawing him closer and in
response he positioned himself in-between her legs. She gasped when she felt the same
hardness from before suddenly squashed flush against her sex. Her senses regaining slightly, she
looked down and saw the state of themselves, she with her legs opened and the
man in-between the juncture of her thighs, and she realised that �hardness� must
be his penis. Before she had time
to contemplate on her feelings about this, the convict started rubbing his cloth
covered erection against her sex and Hermione couldn�t keep herself from
releasing a groan and arched her back towards him in response.

With
his hips he started making rhythmic rocking movements against her cunt. Hermione couldn�t stop an animalistic
growl from escaping her lips. By now she was painfully aware of the cold
solidity of the marble floor pressing against her back, heightening the
experience of the warm, soft, comforting touches of the man on top of her. His hands were everywhere on her,
caressing her stomach, running them over her sides, stroking the curve of her
back.

Shyly
her hands started travelling over his cloth-covered skin, moving up and down his
shoulders and back. Her breathing
was coming out in long shudders and stifled gasps. She could smell the mixture of her
flowery perfume, the spices of the cakes she had been making and the salty tang
of the convict�s sweat in the air, the contrast of flavours agreeing with her
olfactory senses. Hermione felt so
warm and was so full of yearning she didn�t even have the decency to blush when
he pulled his loincloth to the side and started rubbing his flesh against her
flesh, softness against hardness.
She could feel his shaft pushing alongside her labia, sending delicious
friction against her yearning flesh.

Unexpectedly, he pushed the head
of his cock into her cavern and she gasped at the intrusion. He pulled back and pushed back in, this
time a bit further in until he reached her virgin barrier. When he pulled back again and did the
same, Hermione realised that if he were to try to push further in and rupture
her maidenhood, she would let him... merciful goddess she would actually let
him! He started fucking her,
respecting the barrier of her virginity with each slide of his cock. She could feel him inside of her, his
strenuous breath coming in rapid pressed gasps as he moved in and out in long,
slow thrusts.

Hermione had to try very hard not
to move beneath him; she desperately wanted him deeper, but she also feared for
breaching her virginity if she tried meeting his thrusts. She had such a strong urge to writhe and
squirm under him and to buck her hips, and not being able to was sheer
torture. Her nails dug into the
convict�s shoulder blades, leaving half-moon circles for several days to
come. Hermione could feel a new,
much more distinct pressure building in the pit of her stomach, rapidly
increasing. She closed her eyes
tightly, feeling the merciless tension rising; her body shouting out at her to
do something, to make it stop and... and... she couldn�t explain it, but
something had to happen now or she�d go insane, or would
die or... or... ...

�O- OMYmercifullgoDdessyes!� she cried out
as warmth suddenly enveloped her and stars erupted behind her shut eyelids; a
beautiful display of colourful lights against an overwhelming, all consuming
darkness. Tears leaked down her
cheeks as she found herself recovering from the immense release. Hermione was overwhelmed with the beauty
of the experience; it was as if her goddess had awoken inside of her.

She caressed her tears away,
lying motionless under the man whose name she still didn�t know, him having
found his release at the same time as she did. He lifted his head from the crook of her
shoulder and moved to lift himself off her. Hermione winced when she felt the
convict slide out of her. Even
though he hadn�t breached her hymen, her vagina did feel rather sensitive and a
bit sore.

�I hope my somewhat brash actions
haven�t made you change your mind,� he said with a flicker of vulnerability in
his voice.

�I�ve made a promise and I intend
to keep it,� Hermione said.

She tried to sound indignant, as
she felt it would have been the praiseworthy thing to do, but was unable to
fully pull it off as there was a persistent smile tugging on the corners of her
mouth. Even though he very well
could have, he had had enough honour not to strip Hermione of hers. She felt that whoever this man was,
whatever he had done, he deserved a second chance. She couldn�t help but feel that this man
had given her something to look forward to. She might have to wait eighteen years,
but the knowledge that one day she would have the chance to have a man touch her
like that again, to be able to do it right, gave her something
interesting to anticipate. She
accepted his outstretched hand and let him help her pull herself to her
feet. As they walked out of the
temple to meet the Praetorian guards, she smirked and silently hoped he would
still be around when the time came to pass.

Hermione�s breath came out in long
pants and her body was trembling from pent-up pressure as the familiar mist
enveloped her to pull her out of the dream. She had already started touching herself
halfway during the dream. Her hand
was in-between her legs, her fingers pumping in and out of her slick pussy in a
quick pace. She bit her lip and let
out a strangled whimper as the tension in her lower belly increased in a rapid
fashion. She felt like she was
almost there, all the while not knowing what there was. Without warning, the tension snapped and
Hermione felt every muscle and joint in her body lock itself shut; her back
arched off the bed and waves of hot blackness raced through her, drowning her in
a release that was sweet and frightening at the same time.

When
Hermione finally felt her body relax, an unsophisticated noise erupted from her
throat as she started gulping for much needed oxygen. She immediately sat up in bed, one hand
resting on her chest in a self-protective gesture. The first impulse she had was to ask
herself what the hell just had happened, but she knew what had happened;
she had had an orgasm. Hermione had
known an orgasm would feel good, but she had imagined it to feel less...
overpowering; like a really good sneeze for instance. Hermione had never experienced a sneeze
that had made her black out and see colourful flashes of light though. Good lord, it felt like it had almost
blown the top of her head off!

After
sitting on her bed for a few more moments, trying to process what had just
happened to her, she suddenly leaped off the bed and started jumping around in
triumph, a bright smile on her face.
She had had her first orgasm!
For years, Hermione had thought there was something wrong with her for
being unable to pleasure herself, and here she was now, successfully bringing
herself to release. She felt as if
she had reached a new stage in her development, a step forward on her way to
adulthood and independence.

�What
are we celebrating?�

Hermione
twisted around and saw Ginny standing in the doorway, casting her a look of
amused curiosity.

�My
first orgasm,� Hermione blurted out in her state of euphoria. Her eyes widened when she realised what
she had just said and slapped her hands over her mouth in horror. Hermione wasn�t ashamed of the fact that
she had learned to masturbate, but it was simply not something one talked about;
especially not for girls. It was
general knowledge that for boys it was alright to �relieve� themselves from time
to time, but for girls it was regarded as icky.

�Are
you serious!?� Ginny asked, looking astonished.

Hermione
didn�t reply. She shifted her hands
from covering her mouth to covering her eyes and sat herself unto her bed. She was absolutely mortified. Hermione snapped her head up back up and
dropped her hands at hearing a loud bark of laughter coming from Ginny.

�I
can�t believe you just blurted it out like that,� Ginny guffawed. �Honestly Hermione, you�re my
hero.�

�I
am?� Hermione frowned.

�Seriously,
you are. I can�t tell you
how long I have wanted to talk to someone about this!� Ginny said
exasperatedly, walking over to sit down next to Hermione.

�Wait...
you do it too?� Hermione asked in surprise.

�Off
course I do,� Ginny replied offhandedly.
�Perhaps this is news to you, but us Weasleys have been provided with a
fair amount of testosterone.
There�s a reason why �knocking before entering� is the only rule at The
Burrow that has successfully been administered without constant
reminders.�

Hermione
blushed vigorously, visual thoughts creeping into her head of the Weasley men
fondling themselves in the privacy of their rooms.

�But let us get back to the topic at
hand,� Ginny continued. �Well done
on experiencing your first orgasm Hermione, please excuse me for not shaking
your hand in congratulations.�

Hermione�s
face turned an even more violent shade of red. She quickly went to sit on the hand she
had used to get herself off, remnants of her dried-up juices still covering her
fingers.

�So...
how was it?� Ginny asked.

�Ginny!�

�Come
on!� Ginny whined. �You�re the
first girl I�ve encountered of whom I know that she does it. Don�t you want to talk about it?�

�I
don�t know,� Hermione said, staring at her feet. It would be nice to talk about this,
even though it was rather embarrassing.
She did think it would be instructive to hear about someone else�s
experiences.

�Why
do I have to talk?� Hermione
asked. �You talk
first.�

�Fine,�
Ginny said. �What to say.... Well,
I was ten years old the first time I did it. I had this stuffed dragon with a hard
nubbin on the tip of its nose, which was fun to experiment with by sitting on
it. It took me a while before I learned how to get an orgasm and even then I
thought it was kind of... disappointing, but over time they�ve grown more
intense. Okay, your
turn.�

�Well...,�
Hermione started hesitantly, �I didn�t think mine was
disappointing.�

�I
didn�t think so either, judging by the way you were prancing around just now,�
Ginny smirked. �Who was it you were
thinking of - you know, during � that brought you to such
heights?�

Hermione
looked at Ginny, seeing her friends� brown eyes stare back at her
expectantly. She honestly wasn�t
prepared to admit whom she had been thinking about while she had been touching
herself, but with giving the right amount of information Hermione could perhaps
be able to shed some light on her unusual situation.

�Well...
have you ever used a Patented Daydream Charm?� Hermione
asked.

�Yeah,
my idiot brothers first didn�t want to sell me any, even though I am
sixteen, but I threatened to hex them if they didn�t. Why...? Oh wait. I see; the guy in the dream...�
Ginny smiled.

�What
did yours look like? The guy in the
dream, I mean,� Hermione asked, trying to sound inconspicuous.

�He
was really handsome, lean figure, tall, dark hair,...� Ginny
replied.

�Green
eyes and glasses?� Hermione interjected.

�What?�

Hermione
stared at Ginny knowingly and Ginny blushed.

�Sadly,
no,� Ginny said. �If I could
manipulate the charm I would, but as it is, dream-boy will have to do.�

�Are
things not going so well between you and Dean?� Hermione asked
compassionately.

�Oh
no, things are fine,� Ginny denied.
�It�s just, you know...�

�Yeah,�
Hermione said sympathetically.
Ginny had fancied Harry for almost six years now, with still no prospect
of him feeling something for her in return. Hermione had thought it would have
helped Ginny to start seeing other boys, but her feelings for Harry didn�t seem
to have subsided.

�So
the guy in the dreams isn�t anyone you know?� Hermione asked, changing the topic
of conversation to something less depressing than unrequited
love.

�No,�
Ginny said. �Why? Yours is?�

�No,
no,� Hermione lied, �I just thought it might be the case with other
people.�

Hermione
sighed, trying to feel relieved at the knowledge that Malfoy�s presence in her
dreams wasn�t directly linked to what she wanted, but failed since she
now felt even more annoyed about running out of possible explanations.

�I
see,� Ginny said thoughtfully. �But
come on, we�re diverting from the subject matter, aren�t we? So, what did you have, a clitoral or a
vaginal orgasm?�

�Ginny!�

*********

End
of Chapter 3

The
idea for this Daydream came from Robert O�Connor. I think the story has turned out a bit
more complicated than what you had in mind, but when I read about that rule
about Vestals being having the power to set prisoners free, it felt unnatural
not to use it. Thanks for the idea, I hope you enjoyed
it.
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Patented Daydream Charms