A/N: Ok I fully acknowledge my story doesn't exactly fit the books' plot. If Dumbledore is alive and Snape's not a traitor then why does Harry know about Horcruxes? Beats me. Poetic license. This was written a long time ago before the 6th book and there was no way I could really updated it to fit the books. So this is just meant to be a fluff fic. Don't hate me.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter I'd be rolling my very own money filled pool right now not living vicariously through these characters. Nothing is mine.

Desires and Dreams

Hermoine bent over her notebook making quick calculations before turning back to her streaming caldron. She had been working here for months, ever since her final year at Hogwarts had started. Snape had needed an assistant and Dumbledore had chosen her to help lighten his load. Needless to say Snape had been less than pleased. But Hermoine was the top of potions class and seemed naturally gifted so he had relented with ill grace.

She still didn't know what they were working on. Not really. She knew it was a potion connected to defeating the Dark Lord and she knew the parts Snape let her work on were closely related to a love spell. Not love, she corrected, desire. How that would help defeat Voldermort she had no idea and had long ago given up trying to get any answers out of Snape.

Her job was only supposed to be once a week to help Snape but it hadn't taken Hermoine long before she started appearing in the dungeons most evenings. At first, Snape had been furious, calling her a meddlesome, brainless Gryffindor. That first night she had almost run away. But she was sorted into her house for a reason. Ignoring him, she'd set up her cauldron and got to work. Now, after their months working side by side, he seemed to accept her sudden appearances, wordlessly handing over his lastest notes.

Tonight was no different from the others, really. She worked on one side of the classroom, he the other. But for some reason Hermoine found herself looked up, sneaking a peek of her professor when he was unaware. She had been doing that more and more lately. What made matters worse was that in her head he was no longer Snape, the old bat of the dungeons, but rather Severus, brilliant Severus.

Logically she knew nothing would ever come of yet another silly schoolgirl crush and she should just forget about it and move on. But something inside her told her this was more than a crush and she hated that knowledge. He was older, she reasoned, unpleasant, unattractive, and about as friendly as a rabid werewolf. But then there were times when he'd make a breakthrough and his eyes would glow with pleasure. He'd look at her, eager to share his discovery with someone who understood it, and talk to her as an equal, not a hated student. The draw of a man who's mind rivaled her own was too strong. She wanted to be near him, listening to his latest theories and testing her own knowledge. She wanted the privilege of being able to rest a hand on his shoulder as he bent over his caldron. She wanted to run her hands through his hair and pull his head down to hers. But mostly, she wanted to stop being Hermoine the hated know-it-all friend of Potter in his eyes...and be something more.

It was because she was watching him covertly that she noticed his white knuckled grip on the desk. He twitched, sweat beading on his forehead.

"Professor?" she asked, rising.

There was no reply.

"Professor Snape!" She hurried over to his side but he made no move to indicate he knew she was there. He just hunched over the table, staring down into his caldron.

"Severus!" she said, afraid. Reaching out she touched his shoulder to shake him and instead felt something pulling her. Her vision went black and she felt her body twist as if she'd grabbed a portkey instead of her professor.

The world twisted around her and when her vision cleared she still felt disoriented. Her hands still rested on Snape's shoulder, just like it had before, but now he was not staring into the caldron but out into the room. A muffled groan grabbed her attention as she too looked out into the classroom.

Before her she saw herself and Snape locked in a heat embrace. He lifted her onto a desk, pushing aside her robes as she tangled her hands in his hand, claiming his mouth with hers. Hermoine watched her other self in shock. What was she seeing?

She must have made some noise of distress because under her hands she felt Snape's muscles tighten as he turned to stare at her with horrified eyes.

"Hermoine," he whispered.

Ordinarily she would have been happy to hear her name on his lips but for the moment she was too confused for anything else.

Her Snape grabbed her by the arms, shaking her. "What are you doing here?" he said harshly.

"I-I- I thought you were in trouble...sir. I only touched your shoulder and then..." her eyes were drawn back to the scene in the classroom. The couple was now in various states of undress. Snape's eyes followed hers, almost against his will and he groaned.

"We need to get out of here."

"Where is here?" she asked in a smaller voice.

"Hold onto me, Miss Granger," Snape said in his brisk teacher voice which didn't lend itself well to the situation.

Taking the opportunity she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. She felt him stiffen and thought he would push her away but inside one arm wrapped around her back and she felt the curious pulling sensation again. She closer her eyes, holding onto him tighter as the world spun around them.

"You can release me now, Miss Granger," Snape told her when the sensation stopped.

Stepping back she cast a quick look into the classroom, relieved to see no phantom Snape and Hermoine bending over a desk.

"What was that?" she asked, turning her attention back to the man in front of her.

"Success," he said tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Pardon?"

"I-we- have finished the potion, Miss Granger. After that test run there is no doubt about it."

"Finished? Professor, you need to be more clear."

For a moment his eyes darkened in familiar anger but instead he nodded shortly. "I suppose I do owe you that. What we've been working on this year, Miss Granger, is very like the mirror of Erised. It is designed to let the watcher see his or her deepest desires. However, unlike the mirror, our spell will let the watcher actually interact with the scene, become part of it. If Potter looked into the caldron-"

"He could find the other horcruxes," she breathed.

"Precisely."

"That's why I've been working on desire charms all year."

"Yes," he nodded.

"But-" She stopped. Did that mean when she touched him she transmitted her deepest desire into the caldron for him to see? Or was it there before?

"But what about what you saw?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"Yes."

He turned away. "It's of no consequence."

Hermoine felt like he'd stabbed her through the heart.

"You said it showed you you're deepest desires."

"And I said it was successful."

"But, Professor, that means that I-"

"That you are my deepest desire? Yes, I believe it does."

"How can that be of no consequence?" she asked angrily.

"What do you want me to say?" he rounded on her angrily, in full Snape glory. "That some pitiful girl child has trapped me more surely than Voldermort or Dumbledore ever could? Why should I happy that a sniveling Gryffindor has been able to over come all my defenses? You're a student! And what's more your Potter's best friend. I am fully aware of what I am to you."

"I doubt it," she said softly.

He looked torn for a moment, as if he longed to ask her what she meant. Turning his back on her he said, "Get out of here, Miss Granger. The potion is complete, there is no need for you to return."

Hermoine stood, poised for flight. It would be so easy to leave, as he'd asked her. It would probably save her much heartbreak and humiliation. But as she stared at his rigid back she knew she wasn't going anywhere. A Gryffindor never ran away from a challenge.

Step by careful step, she walked over to him and gently touched his back.

Snape whirled to face her, eyes glowing with rage.

"I'm not leaving," she said, facing him down.

"Stupid, brainless-" he snarled.

"You're afraid," she cut him off.

"Excuse me?" he asked silkily.

"Afraid," she repeated. "Of me."

"And pray tell why would you think that?" he asked.

"Maybe you're afraid that I'll walk out that door but you're hoping I will too. If I do, then you can just nurse a broken heart the rest of your life alone. Painfully but easy. However, I think you're really afraid I won't leave. What if I stay? What will you do if I call you Severus?"

He stepped back. "Why would you?" he asked softly. "Why wouldn't you run for the doors?"

"Because," she took a deep, steadying breath. "Because if I looked into that caldron I would see the same thing."

His eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I've...that I've fallen in love with you." She held her breath, waiting for a killing blow but praying for a different answer.

Snape stood before her, still as a statue. He watched her with those burning black eyes but didn't say a word.

"Professor?" she asked softly, fidgeting.

"I thought you were going to call me Severus," was his softly reply.

"Severus," she whispered, stepping closer.

"I'm too old for you," he told her quietly.

"I'm mature."

"I'm not handsome or dashing."

"You are to me."

"I'll never be able to give you a normal life."

"I could never have a normal life even if I wanted to."

"I could die in this war."

"So could I," she whispered. "I'm Harry's best friend. I'll be on the front lines, same as you. All we have is the present, Severus. We can't plan for the future. Not our future. People like us don't get guarantees. We can hope...but that's all we can do. Hope and fight. So why deny what we have now? Can't we just be together in the time we have? Maybe we'll survive and if we do then we can worry about the 'what ifs.' But no matter what the future holds, I want to be with you." She looked up into his eyes and asked, "Do you want to be with me?"

With a groan of surrender he pulled her into his arms. "I love you," he whispered into her wild hair. "That's never going to change."

Hermoine clung to him, happier than she'd been in ages. She'd been telling the truth. The chances of both of them surviving the war were slim. They'd wasted so much time already, she didn't want to waste anymore.

"I love you," she told him, looking up into his beloved face. "For however long we've got, I love you."

The End