Important A/N: This is NOT the story I used to have here called Waking Up to a Dream; it's a totally different one. For now, it's a one-shot because I don't feel like continuing it. But I might change my mind. I left the poem, though, because I like it.
--
Waking Up to a Dream
Roni Black
(Translated segments of poetry)
Once again, like waking up to a dream
Avoiding the light
Groping his way around my walls
The vision;
Misty as milk, like a disappointed dreamer's
Narrowing his pupils...
To the wind
To the water
To the fire,
Like an apple afar from its tree;
To the road
Leading to you
Leading to the horizon
Like an image of you
Rushing me, like a pulse...
Don't turn
Don't cry
Don't disappear...
--
Hermione sat bolt upright in bed, sweating and panting, wiping her wet hair off her face. She had just had another very vivid dream, and she was upset and restless and aroused at the same time.
Beside her, Ron groaned and turned to the other side. Then he kept snoring.
Hermione got up quietly and hurried to the door, her bare feet making no sound on the soft carpet of the bedroom. She closed the door and stepped quietly down the hall to the bathroom, her white nightgown clinging to her sweaty body.
She carefully locked the door behind her and turned to look in the mirror.
Her face was sweaty, she already knew that – she'd felt it even in her sleep. Her cheeks were remarkably red, and her eyes were shining strangely, with a sort of spark she couldn't remember ever seeing there before.
They were ripping the clothes off one another, kissing each other fiercely, rolling one on top of the other –
She shook her head and looked at herself closely again. She was glowing, for some absurd reason. As though she had just... but of course, that was impossible.
"Yes... Oh, God, yes..."
Stop it! There was no reason for her to glow like that. Maybe it was just her imagination at this very late hour. What was she even doing up? She ought to go back to sleep or she wouldn't be able to open her eyes tomorrow.
There they were, discovering new lands of pleasure in each other's bodies, moving together in perfect rhythm, panting heavily and whispering to each other –
Merlin. She couldn't let herself keep thinking of that. No, she would not think about it again tonight. Or ever, actually. She would go back to bed at once.
But she felt so wide awake, so excited, and warm all over. She tiptoed into her baby's bedroom.
There she was, her angel. Two-year-old Rose was sleeping so peacefully in her little bed, her reddish-gold hair softly framing her beautiful face. Hermione went over to her and kissed her gently on the forehead. Rose took a deep breath and kept on sleeping.
"I'm sorry, my love," Hermione whispered as the sorrow washed over her. "Mummy's so sorry, Rosie. I've been unfaithful to you. But I will never hurt you... You know that, don't you?"
She gently ran her fingers through her daughter's hair, and left the room with the tears pouring down her face.
And as she climbed back into bed, and listened to Ron's snores in the dark, she knew she had indeed been unfaithful. For the blond man she had just made love to in her dream, so passionately and wantonly, was most certainly not her husband.
--
A/N: Well, that's it. Review?
