Hermione opened her eyes gingerly and winced when the bright sunlight stung her sensitive eyes. She was lying down, quite comfortably although her covered abdomen ached dully. She raised her hands (they were attached to an IV hookup) and flung down her blanket. There was a white bandage covering the lower right side of her body. She grimaced again, struggling to remember where she was.

'Hermione, dear, you're awake,' her mother said in a relieved tone. 'We were wondering when you would wake after post-op.'

'Post op?'

'For your appendicitis sweetie. You complained of stomach pains last week?'

'I can't really...' she began, shaking her head to clear her foggy memory.

'Relax dear. It will all come back. Rest now,' her mother said as she covered her again with the hospital blanket.

'Hey Hermes. Wait up!'

Hermione stopped and turned around, flashing a smile to the guy who had just called out to her. She boinked him with a thick book over his head.

'Don't call me Hermes!'

Alan laughed good naturedly. 'Gee Hermione! You sure recover fast. Really that eager to maintain your position in the dean's list, aren't you?'

Hermione rolled her eyes.

'You know Dr Eli. Fail 1 of his Calculus pop quizzes and he'll flunk you back to freshman year. I'm not risking it.'

Alan beamed and hugged her tight, earning an indignant squeak from her. 'Atta girl Hermes!'

She knew she was dreaming. Yet she did not want to wake up. She was lying on a bed of black silk. It felt delicious on her naked flesh, her feverish body contrasting with the silk's coolness. Another body lay on top of hers, an undeniably lean and high strung male body. She could smell the stale whisky every time he breathed out above her. Hard, wiry muscles taut with tension, two hands stretched above her, supporting his weight. The coarseness of his pubic hair rubbing against her own, his legs spreading hers open. And his, oh lord, his hot, pulsing cock spreading the folds of her damp pussy, entering her at an agonizing slow pace. His long greasy hair, made even greasier due to his exertions, hanging like a curtain, covering his face and hers, as he lowered his head and forced her mouth open with his tongue. He thrust forward suddenly, sheathing himself in her warmth, while his tongue mimicked the action of his cock. Oh god, she was being fucked hard, her desire so strong, she grasped his ass, wanting to feel him deeper. He groaned into her mouth and she tasted the whisky he had drunk earlier. Sloppily, he released her mouth as his hot tongue traveled downward, licking a burning trail between her breasts. His face was feverish hot from the liquor, his usual pallor replaced by an aroused flush.

'Fuck me Professor,' she hissed urgently to be answered by his helpless groan and she felt him lose the control he had been desperately hanging on to. Her own loins tightened as she felt her climax approaching. She clung to him, wailing her release, secure in his arms as she felt her own juices squirt, coating his already slick cock.

'Cum on me, witch,' he hissed fiercely into her ear.

Hermione awoke with a start, alone in bed. The dream was so vivid, more memory than fantasy. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, as if she had just cum herself too.