Hermione's luggage followed her up the stairs to the great double doors at the front of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They stood open, welcoming her into the Entrance Hall. The sun was high in the sky and a late summer breeze toyed with the loose hairs escaping from the tight bun at the back of her head. Minerva McGonagall was waiting just inside.

"It's so good to have you here," the older woman confided, clasping Hermione on the upper arms. "You can leave your things. They will be brought up to your rooms. Have you eaten?"

"Not exactly."

"Good, good. Most of the others are having their lunch right now."

Hermione's stomach flipped as her professor led her down the middle of the Great Hall. She supposed first days at a new job were supposed to be nerve-wracking. But it was one thing to make a good first impression and quite another to overcome the impression one made on a person when one was eleven years old.

Most of her old professors smiled disarmingly when Minerva presented her to them. Hagrid got up and went around the table to smother her in a bone-breaking hug. But Severus Snape hardly nodded his head, returning his attention immediately to the book in his hand and his diligent chewing. She flushed at the memory of the dream she'd had the night before. Such a strange dream it had been.

Minerva assigned her the seat between Hagrid and Snape, much to her chagrin. But luckily Hagrid's enthusiasm covered any awkwardness she may have had sliding into the seat beside her old potions master. She hadn't spoken with the elusive man since the Ministry's Christmas ball last year. And that had been brief and awkward enough.

But Hermione couldn't keep herself from speaking to him for long. "So," she began, drawing the Slytherin's concentration away from the tome in his hand, "I suppose we're to be colleagues, now."

"Hmm," said Snape, lifting his eyes only briefly from the page, "astute as always, Miss Granger."

Hermione flushed, but was not deterred. "Hermione," she corrected. "I'm not your student anymore, Professor."

Snape lifted an eyebrow at her then returned to his reading. She wanted to kick herself. Professor? Had she really called him 'professor'? And in the same breath that she'd told him she wasn't his student anymore? Ugh! He had always had that effect on her; taking her even at her most confident and making her feel like a fool. Maybe her anxiety about facing him as equals had been the impetus for that dream. She shook her head, resolving not to think about that.

"So, I understand you're teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," she began again, not sure why she felt the need to talk to her old professor. Perhaps she felt that drawing him into a conversation might help alleviate some of the strange tension that filled the space between them.

"I am," he said, not looking at her.

"The, er, first professor to teach it for more than one year in a row."

"Indeed."

"So, do you prefer it to Potions?"

"Granger," he snapped, "a more observant witch might notice that I am preoccupied with more important things, at the moment." His eyes met hers, glittering when they caught the shocked expression on her face. "You may be my colleague, now, but I am under no obligation to waste my time on you."

"Ah. Forgive me," she replied in a clipped voice, "for being so terribly rude."

The silence remained tense for the rest of the meal, but Hermione refused to let him see how desperate she was to get away. Instead, she took her time, chatting happily with Hagrid and Pomona Sprout. She could feel the Slytherin bristling beside her, and that gave her a strange satisfaction. She was no longer his pupil, after all. He couldn't bully her anymore. He has no power over me.

After lunch, Minerva showed her to her quarters in a tower she couldn't remember ever visiting before. "We recommend you set your own wards, of course," said the older witch as she unlocked the door.

"Oh! How lovely!"

The door opened onto a small living area with a sofa and chairs around a large fireplace and a desk off to the side. The walls were lined with bookshelves that she couldn't wait to fill. Large windows overlooked the lawn and the Forbidden Forest, spilling afternoon light into the cheerful room.

Supposing that the door at the far end must lead to the bedroom, Hermione hurried over to it, stopping in the doorway as she took in the view, her jaw dropping in horror and eyes widening at the sight. It was a simple room; sparsely decorated with wide windows and a four-poster bed lined with sheer, cream curtains. The deja vu was overwhelming.

Oh Gods, she thought. What the Hell is going on?

...

Clearly it was a trick of some sort. A prank. A curse meant to… mess with one's mind. Right? After all, there were few things more ridiculous than having a naked Severus Snape in her new bedroom. It must have been some sort of curse that causes the victim to dream up a ludicrous nightmare, but yet… not so ludicrous that it wasn't at least… plausible.

Hermione laughed at herself, rolling her eyes at the admission. Plausible? Really? Well, of course it was completely absurd, but not out of the realm of possibility. That had to be intentional. After all, this bothered her much more than it would if it had been, say… Hagrid. Ewww!

She decided to distract herself with a good book and a glass of sherry from the kitchens. Minerva had introduced her to an elf named Bippy who was in charge of seeing to all the professors' needs. Of course, Bippy had needed some assuring, what with Hermione's reputation for elf liberation. But Hermione promised not to try to free any more elves and that seemed to satisfy Bippy.

So she sipped her sherry and read her book in her softest pajamas, curled up in her enormous four-poster bed, with the windows open to admit the evening breeze. It was early when she turned out the lights and went to sleep.

...

Warmth.

Comfort.

Fine black hairs she couldn't stop running her fingers through. His skin was sticky with a sheen of sweat, and so was hers. She could feel it on her face, where her hair clung to her neck, and collecting between their bodies, wherever they touched. Her shoulder was tucked up beneath his arm, which wrapped around her back. Her naked breasts pressed against his ribs. And one of her legs was hooked over his, the satin of her skin tickled by the coarse hairs that covered his. She didn't have to look beneath the sheets to know that they were as black as the chest hairs she kept running her fingers through.

Fine black hairs.

But Ron didn't have fine black hair.

Hermione jolted up, alarmed to meet the eyes of Severus Snape, once again. He smiled lazily at her, his expression one of happy lethargy. And then a spark of recognition. "Oh, not now," he groaned, his voice deep and sleepy.

Hermione jerked away, yanking the sheets up to cover her breasts. "What. The. Hell?" she hissed. This didn't feel like a dream. She was as certain as she had ever been about anything that she and Snape really were here in this moment in her bed together.

His eyes went wide with alarm and he sat up, drawing away from her with something that looked like shame. "Bloody hell," he murmured, "is this it? Is it happening?"

"Is what happening?"

"Oh God, it is, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

"The first… premonition…"

"The first… you mean…"

He nodded, then cringed down at himself. "Oh gods, like this? No wonder…" But then an amused smirk broke out across his face "Then again, I suppose it could have been worse."

Hermione's eyes went wide at his insinuation; at the sudden realization that she wasn't just naked, but wet between her legs and sore in a way that suggested he had been there only minutes ago.

He must have seen her horror, for his eyes fell closed and his brow furrowed with shame. "Hermione," he said, reaching for her instinctivey. She jerked away, immediately regretting it when he winced at the gesture, hurt flickering across his face.

It was that expression of hurt that chased her back to the dark bedroom where she woke with a gasp, the sheets damp with her sweat.

And in that moment, she was convinced that had not been a dream.

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