Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or the song "Desert Rose" By Sting
Gardens In The Desert Sand
She moved on the stage with an unconscious grace, handing out diplomas to each student as they passed her. As his student, he'd only noticed how annoying she could be, hand in the air, always regurgitating what was written, but never her own thoughts and opinions. That had been before the war and before her life had been torn apart and reformed. She'd grown up in the face of those tragedies so many years before. The adult he saw before him held quiet grace and a gleaming sharp, yet leashed intelligence. And something more, something that lit a fire in his heart, and organ he thought long dead. But then nothing was ever as it seemed. Something clicked for him then, something he'd been denying since she'd walked across that stage herself.
That night he dreamed. He dreamed of a strange place, a garden in the desert, of rain pouring down over him and he, standing just out of reach. He stepped forward and she stepped back, until they were standing in the sand dunes. He stepped forward one last time, but when he touched her, she ran through his fingers, sand returning to the desert. He woke in disappointment, feeling the fire still burning in his chest, burning brighter than before.
He dreamed again the next night, the same beautiful oasis as before, but she wasn't there. He searched for her in vain, before looking to the heavens, as though to ask why. No answer greeted him only empty skies. In his dream he closed his eyes in defeat. A gentle breeze brushed across him, bringing with it her perfume, a hint of jasmine and orange, fresh and beautiful, so like her. He was intoxicated on her scent and briefly wondered why he could smell it in his dream when he'd never smelled it in waking.
He opened his eyes and saw his chambers. The scent still lingered and he turned to get out of bed, to find her there, arm outstretched as though to wake him.
"Hermione." He breathed, startling them both. She flushed, and he thought she looked even more beautiful.
"I need you. I love you. I…" She trailed off, unsure of how her advances would be taken.
"I need you too. I love you, Hermione, more than I knew." She smiled at him, and leaned over, brushing her lips along his in their first kiss.
"That took us long enough." She teased, when they pulled apart.
"Too long." He opened his covers and pulled her down next to him. With his arms wrapped around her, he could feel her love, as sweet as her perfume, envelope him.
"Hermione?" He asked suddenly.
"Yes, Severus?" She mumbled sleepily.
"How did you get past my wards?"
"Forgot to ward your fireplace." He chuckled to himself. He always forgot to ward the damn fireplace.
And as she turns,
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams
This fire burns
I realize nothings as it seems
I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand
I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above
I close my eyes
This rare perfume is the sweet intoxication of her love.
