WARNING: This isn't suitable for kiddies!
Ron paced the dormitory and his eyes went frequently to the door. The night was dark and the moon was out; silver-blue light filtered in through the high windows, making everything glow strangely. Ron wanted to sit down because his legs were tired, but adrenaline was coursing through his body and his heart was pounding.
Come on, he thought. Where are you?
Time seemed extremely slow; every second crept into the next. She was supposed to have arrived ten minutes ago, but ten minutes ago had arrived and then slouched by. Ron wondered in his agitation whether the delay was deliberate, whether or not this might be one of her games. She's a minx, he thought, and became excited.
Yet he paced.
Soon the wait ended and the reward presented herself. Hermione was wearing the nightgown he favoured; lavender silk. Her hair hung loose over the shoulders of it, and the belt was tied around her hips, providing an enticing view of her bare chest and the W of her breasts.
She leaned against the doorpost, twirling one end of the belt in wide circles. Her smile was quiet, inviting, sensual.
'Done your homework?'
All at once, Ron felt giddy. She had begun his favourite role-play, the one they had improvised a few months ago when Hermione had finished her work before Ron had, and gone to dress in this nightgown.
'No,' said Ron now, as he had then, 'I haven't.'
Hermione raised her eyebrows. 'Well then, it's detention for you.' She walked towards him and he heard the singing lisp of the belt as she removed it from the robe. The robe opened and he saw that she was not wearing underwear. Her breasts were round and full and they glistened with diamonds of perspiration. She whispered in his ear, 'I don't want you going anywhere.'
Slowly Ron went and stood at the foot of his four-poster. Hermione slipped past him, trailing her hand across his chest as she went, her touch lighter than heaven. With his back to the post he brought his arms behind it and she tied his hands. Tightly. He tested it gingerly but the belt held fast. Next she took hold of one of the tasseled curtain cords and, standing on tiptoe, pulled it across his lips and knotted it behind his head, gagging him.
'Good,' she whispered. She was standing close to him, close to him and unclothed save for the gown that hung round her shoulders. He could feel her breath on his neck and smell her perfume and his desire was so intense it hurt. It was made all the more potent by his being completely restrained and helpless.
But as she had said, it was good.
It was very good.