A/N: Folks, I'm so wrapped up in work that writing time is scarce, and the muse is hyperactive. So although I wanted to write the next chapter for Guilty Pleasures, I did have to get this wonderful little idea on paper first.

I have to say I enjoyed jumping between writing GP and The Harpy's Mistletoe, with THM functioning as a lemony fluff release when I needed it, and I thought it would be nice to keep the practice going. So I plan to add a chapter here or a chapter there, however inspiration strikes me. :)

The Traggob

Chapter 1

His trembling fingers stopped just short of the knob that would open the wardrobe. He drew in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. After so many years of desperate longing, he would finally have her. Lily Evans. The love of his life.

He knew that it was just a fantasy brought to life by his own desires. But deep inside his heart, he was mortally afraid that he would lose himself in this fantasy, that once he had indulged in this drug of all drugs, he would be unable to let it go, spending the rest of his life, savings and sanity to pay for a visit with the Traggob. That was the reason why when he had heard rumors about someone capturing the mythical creature, it had taken him so long to follow up. Would he be strong enough to resist it once he had experienced it? He thought about the Mirror of Erised and its lure, and decided that a Traggob must surely be just as addictive, if not more. Should he really dare to open the door?

A Traggob was the anti-thesis of a Boggart. Where the Boggart would take a look into your soul and make your worst fears come true, the Traggob would see your deepest desires and bring them to life. Severus knew that there had only ever be one true desire in his life – to be loved by Lily Evans. And even though it had been decades since her death, she still ruled his heart and his dreams.

In the last couple of months, she had appeared in his dreams more often, pleading, luring, whispering to him. He found himself thinking about the Traggob more and more often. Maybe if he went so see it, maybe if he gave in this one time, it would break the spell.

He had paid an insane amount of money for an hour in this room, and already five minutes had passed with him standing in front of the wardrobe, his hands trembling.

Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his hand and turned the knob.

Suddenly flooded by anxiety, he retreated a couple of steps and sank down into the plush chair placed a few paces from the wardrobe. He held his breath as he heard the low squeak of hinges, and the door swung open half-way.

The light in the room was dimmed, and the inside of the wardrobe appeared to be completely dark. All he could hear was the sound of soft breathing. A slender hand slid out, grasping the wood of the wardrobe in a caress that was almost sensual. Next, a bare foot followed, and as it was lowered to the ground it revealed a long, shapely leg to the light, the skin glowing pale with a golden tone. Slim hips, clad in black lace slithered into view, and his breath hitched.

His mouth was suddenly dry, and as he waited for the light to reveal her breasts, time seemed to slow down just to torture him. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair as he finally caught sight of them, his eyes devouring every soft curve. They were perfect, just as he had known they would be. Flashes of fire raced under his skin. He raised his gaze to look into her beautiful emerald eyes… which were honey-colored.

"What the FUCK?!" he shouted, jumping up and gesturing at the near-naked form of Hermione Granger, standing in front of him. "What kind of twisted joke is this?"

….

He stared at Granger, dumbstruck. Was this some kind of scam? Was the Traggob not the real thing? Something must have gone awfully wrong. To show him Granger, of all people. If it had been about who annoyed him most, then he would have understood the choice. It was as if she had a secret talent to brush him the wrong way.

She had stayed on at Hogwarts after finishing most of her N.E.W.T.s with Outstandings, taking three of the subjects into consideration for her apprenticeship. Potions had not been one of them, although she had received an outstanding on her N.E.W.T.s in the very same subject.

Yet, she had not even inquired about the possibility of a Potion apprenticeship. He could not help but take it personally, convinced she had rejected it because she did not want to work with him. All those years of his unveiled sarcasm seemed to have taken their toll. He had thought she was stronger than that, that she would not have taken his behavior in the classroom personal, but it seemed he had overestimated her. He was disappointed, and it showed. He frequently turned his verbal barbs on her. She tried to give him as good as she got. On such occasions, he could not help but increase his sarcastic comments in nastiness, and she was incapable of not falling for it. So now and then, they would indulge in snarling contests that almost turned them into feral beasts when no one was looking. More often than not, this resulted in a week of mutual frosty silence. Slowly, then, they would turn back to their snarky, slightly acidic jeering. And the circle would start anew.

Why the Traggob had taken her form was unfathomable to him.

"Get back in that wardrobe and come out in the form that I expect you to!" he shouted at it.

The Granger-Traggob just smiled at him slyly. "Why so angry?" It took some steps towards him, until he was trapped between the chair and the Granggob, as he had dubbed it in his head. "It makes no sense to be angry at yourself, so why don't you stop and enjoy the situation?"

"Angry at myself?! I'm angry at you, pulling off this scam."

"Scam?" She frowned, running a finger along her pursed lips. "I do not trick anyone. I am like a mirror – I can only display what is there, what you are giving me."

"I don't want her," he shouted, his hand waving in the air up and down in front of the Granggob, referring to the body it displayed. "I want the love of my life!" he hissed at her.

"Ah" she said, a mischievous smile lighting up her eyes. "There we have your error. If you've come here on the assumption that I would show you who you love, you've been sorely mistaken. I only show you your deepest, darkest desire."

He stared at the Granggob, speechless for a minute, before he started sputtering. "What?! Deepest what?! Who – Granger?! Are you utterly out of your mind?! This is beyond ridiculous! Absurd! I don't… No! … How?! Me? Her? … Never!"

He was pacing the length of the room, anger billowing around him as if it were a set of robes. Now and then he would stop in front of the Granggob, glaring at it, seething "Never!" before returning to his mad pace about the room. The Granggob just stood there, a sly grin on its pretty face, waiting for the man to come to a decision. Finally, he stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Is there any way to change what you display? Any spell, anything?" he asked desperately.

The Granggob studied him for a moment. "Think about my counterpart, the Boggart. What does it display?"

"The deepest fear."

"Exactly. How do you get rid of your deepest fear?"

"You face it."

"There you have it."

He stared at the Granggob, dumbstruck.

As understanding started sinking in, he was really seeing her for the first time that night. The way the luscious hair tumbled over her shoulders to frame her lithe body with wild corkscrew curls and how her large, luminous eyes shone on the soft light. His eyes came to rest on her pink, slightly parted lips that looked to inviting, and he wondered why he should not just give in and have a small taste, to see what it was like.

He drifted closer, raising his hands to run his fingertips over the soft skin of her arm. It felt wonderful. She stepped closer, her skin brushing his clothes and his breath caught in his throat. She lifted her head, moving it closer until her lips hovered over his.

He closed his eyes, anticipating her kiss when he felt her pulling back. His eyes snapped open, staring at her with irritation and confusion. She sighed. "It's not me you want. You want to kiss the real her. You're aware that I'm just an illusion, and that she still exists in real life. I cannot help you overcome your desire. You must face her, not me."

At her words, he pictured it – him kissing Granger, the real Granger, and he coughed as a wave of panic cut off all of his air supply.

...

A/N: My Traggob is made out of lovely reviews. *wink, wink*