Hermione Granger, consummate planner, ruled by logic and driven by ideals, had previously imagined her first time to be sweet and sensuous, somewhere comfortable and romantic. She had assumed it would be with someone her age, perhaps Ron, who would be clumsy and earnest; but it was a gauzy fantasy, which was now banished by the heated reality of Severus Snape biting her neck, teeth seeking the jumpy pulse in her throat. The stone floor bit into the small of her back, where her jumper had ridden up. One of his trouser-clad legs was thrust between her own and instinctively she ground against his thigh, seeking. 