Hermione pulled the blankets up to her chin, trying to find a comfortable position in her bed, but no matter which way she stretched, she just couldn't seem to find any rest. Her thoughts kept circling back to Snape, and that look he had given her when she had put her hand on his chest. For a moment there, she had believed he might have some feelings for her, too, but the moment had gone by so fast, she couldn't really be sure.
She wished she had the courage to go to him, yet she knew if he rejected her again, she wouldn't have it in her heart to try again. Maybe it was better to wait.
Or she could send him an image, she thought. That way, she could show him that she was interested without having to fear his immediate rejection.
She mused about what kind of scenario she would send him. In the end, she decided on a simple kiss. A small one, just the brush of her lips on his, maybe lingering a bit, but more an invitation than a request.
She set the scene in the makeshift lab, with Snape sitting at the table, bent over a parchment, his quill scratching. As she pictured the scene, she realized she wanted to tell him something before she kissed him. She wanted him to know that her feelings for him had never really left, that her knees still turned weak when he walked by. That she enjoyed his company, for his wits and his wonderfully dry sense of humor, that with him, despite all the emotional turmoil, she had somehow felt at ease in quiet moments working side by side in their lab. There was so much that she wanted to tell him.
She definitely needed to use the channel.
She felt excitement bubble in her stomach as she prepared herself for the spell. She imagined Snape in the lab and herself walking through the door as she started the spell.
Dream-Hermione approached the desk behind which Dream-Snape was scribbling notes on a parchment. She took a deep breath: "Professor Snape-"
But before she could utter another word, she was interrupted by a steely voice: "I hadn't thought you would dare to ever insert yourself into my mind again." Snape had raised his head, his black eyes pinning her down.
Hermione gasped. He had somehow taken some control over her spell. She could feel his magic battling against hers, the flows of energy pushing against each other in a mad dance. She still commanded the actions of her own image, but Snape's was out of her control.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out what spell you had used? Did you think I wouldn't make sure nobody could be doing this to me ever again?" he stood up, glaring at her, looking furious.
It was fascinating to see him like this, just like the real thing, while she was communicating with him in her mind. It was an extraordinary experience. She wondered about the limits of the spell. She stepped closer to the desk, where his hands were resting on the surface. She touched the back of his left hand, running her fingers over his skin, feeling the fine black hairs under her fingertips. He looked at her, irritated and confused at her strange reaction.
"This feels so real" she whispered. She brushed her thumb over the fabric of his shirt cuffs. "My sense of touch believes this is real. I wonder if this applies to all of the senses." She stepped closer, her hand trailing up his arm towards his shoulder. He stiffened, but he didn't pull away. When she had reached his neck, she pulled the collar of his shirt aside, pressing her lips to his skin, slipping out her tongue to taste the salt on his skin.
He groaned: "Hermione."
Hot flashes raced through her body at the sound of his voice saying her name. She wanted him so much right now. She cupped his cheek with her hand and pulled him towards her, eager to finally get that kiss she had fantasized about. He didn't resist, and she pushed herself up on her toes to meet his descending lips.
With a snap that rocked her mind, the connection broke and she was back on her bed, all her energy spent, panting in exhaustion and utter frustration. She had been so close!
…
Severus Snape woke after a night of exhausted, dreamless sleep. Immediately he was swamped by memories of their shared experience in the night. At first he had been furious that she had dared to use the spell again, but then she had touched his hand. And that tingling sensation had started in his stomach, eager to take root, preparing to unfurl. Her fingers had left a trail of fire on his arm, and when she had kissed his neck, and he had felt the movement of her tongue on his skin, the tingling sensation had exploded into an inferno that had raced through his body. He had decided to throw caution to the wind and allow himself to really believe that she wanted him. He had bent to kiss her, holding his breath, and then – the connection had snapped and he had lain on his bed, too exhausted to even lift a finger.
He was sure that the connection had broken because both of their energy had been spent, but a small nagging voice in the back of his head kept insisting that maybe, she had gotten a case of cold feet.
He showered and dressed in his usual ensemble, dreading to meet her at the breakfast table, when all her friends would be present and watching. He wanted to speak with her privately, to gauge her reaction to last night's events. He slipped into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea, but felt too nervous to eat anything. Not that he wanted to sit with them anyways.
Hermione was at the table, flanked by her ever-present side-kicks, while others, nearly all of them former students, occupied most of the other seats at the table, devouring eggs and toast. Hermione's attention had been captured by Harry, who was filling her in on the events of the previous day.
She seemed to feel his gaze on her, though, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her gaze turned warm, a smile curling the corners of her lips. He concentrated on breathing properly and maintaining a stern face. Still, he raised one eyebrow just a fraction of an inch, giving a minuscule nod towards the door, inviting her to join him in the lab. Her smile turned into a joyful grin, and with a small, inconspicuous gesture, she tapped on her watch and indicated she'd be along in five minutes. He turned and strode out of the room before he lost control of the grin that wanted to spread on his face.
A/N: I've been trying to include the content of the fouth image spell, but it turns out to be harder than expected. Snape simply refuses to talk about it and Hermione is no great help in that regard, either. We'll have to wait and see.
A big thank you to Zaubernuss for stepping in as my beta, as well as helping me out with tricky HP canon questions I might have ;)
