Hermione waited in silence for a while and then decided he had in fact gone to bed. Her mind drifted as she struggled to stay awake but after a few hours, she nodded off and was shocked awake again with a ragged gasp. She moaned as arousal and fatigue warred within her. Shifting the little amount that she could within her confines, she tried to find relief or at least enough purchase on the bench to rub her aching clit, but as before her efforts were in vain. Instead, she attempted to distract herself by mentally reciting potion ingredients for recipes that she could remember. When she had run through all of them, she switched to cooking recipes and finally reverted to mentally reciting street names and directions for alternative routes she used between her home and work. Eventually, however, fatigue won over and she started to fall asleep, only to be shocked awake again. She groaned in frustration and exhaustion, the sound coming out utterly wanton around the gag. She heard the bed to her right shift and creak, but then silence resumed and she continued her efforts to stay awake. After what could have been minutes or hours – in her weariness she was losing all sense of time – the bed creaked, sheets were moved, and she heard footsteps move to the door and then out into the hallway. Running water. A door. Footsteps approaching. Another door. Footsteps in the room, approaching her. Snape’s voice was quiet and right next to her ear when he spoke, so he must have knelt down beside her. 