Disclaimer: See Prologue

Pleasant Dreams

After that day's drama, Snape had collapsed on the bed and immediately fallen into deep sleep. His reward for putting up the inanities of humanity was one of the best dreams of his life.

Nestled deep in his arms was the most beautiful witch he had ever met, and she was his and his alone. Her hair spilled across his pillow, obscuring her face. She was on her side, facing away from him, and he could clearly see the gentle curve of her body in the soft moonlight that filtered through the windows.

Beautiful. He pulled her close and ran his hand appreciatively down her side, revelling in her contented purr when he nuzzled her neck, a purr that was only for him. He loved to hear the way she cooed in her sleep, her delightful sighs of contentment when she burrowed deeper into his embrace. Jasmine, she smells like jasmine, and ginger, and everything exotic. He kissed the waves of her hair in the moonlight, Oh, sweet, black waves in the moonlight!

Her body was warm, and he longed to bury himself deep inside of her. He rubbed her stomach possessively through the silk of her nightgown. He felt the muscles tense as he held her close, savouring her warmth. Gods, she's gorgeous, and she's mine. He nibbled lightly on her neck and he could taste the salty sweetness of her skin. Nothing excited him more than the knowledge that she belonged to him alone, and he would never let this dream-witch go.

As he touched her, he could hear her breath hitch and shudder, though she had yet to awaken from her slumber. He finally cupped her breasts gently, and he chuckled when she tried to press herself more firmly into his touch. She pushed herself against him, and writhed against his erection. With a hiss, he ground back and encouraged her motion.

He couldn't see her face. "Who are you, my lady of the night?" His voice was silky as he kissed her shoulder. All she could do was whimper in response, her voice like music. "My succubus, my dream…" He ran his fingers through her hair, content in knowing she was his and his alone. No one would take her from him.

oOoOo

Noira was in heaven. Deep in the arms of Morpheus, she dreamt of her lover.

Oh, the feel of his hand as it caressed her side, her hip; he gave her goose bumps with his touch alone. She purred with pleasure when his lips found her neck. The feel of his warm lips against the cool flesh of her neck brought her ecstasy when he licked and nibbled the sensitive spot he found there. Touch me, give me more! she demanded through the haze of sleep.

He said not a word, but drew her closer, almost as if reading her mind. She could smell him, almost taste him, as he held her close, coaxing her to passion with the meticulous way he kneaded and caressed every inch of her body through the silk. She loved the clean scent of him, the feel of his wiry muscles, and the roughness of his hands against the silk of her nightgown as he teased her, rubbing just under her breasts, and avoiding what she wanted him to touch the most.

She reached out and pulled him closer against her body. She moved her hips against his body and the hardness she found there as his hands drove her wild. She could hear him whisper as he nipped the flesh at her collarbone, "My lady… my succubus…my dream." She could feel him caress her hair and press her down against the bed, until she was lying on the flat of her back. She could feel his erection as he rubbed it against her thigh through her nightgown. It was a delicious counterpoint to the weight of him pinning her down, and she couldn't wait for more. Her legs parted on their own accord as her subconscious sought to join their bodies as one. He ground into her with his hips and she arched her back to rub against him. He lowered the straps of her gown, kissing every inch of iridescent skin as it appeared, his eyes shut at the onslaught of sweetness.

She was heady from the feelings coursing through her, and still she wanted more. "Kiss me," she demanded, "Kiss me, my incubus…" She pulled his head down to hers and captured his mouth forcefully with her own.

Oh, the taste, the feeling, and the power that she felt as she took those lips for her own. He nibbled on her lips in return, wanting to taste every inch of her.

She ran her fingers through his hair. It felt long, straight, and...greasy?

Her eyes opened with a snap at the exact same time his did.

"Doshe sem feris!"

"What the fuck?"

They released each other with a screech before tumbling off from opposites sides of the bed. They hit the ground with a thud and realized they were way too far apart.

"Mother…"

Their bodies sped along the cold floor, colliding together right under the middle of the bed.

Snape jerked up and tried to get away—he promptly rammed his head into the bed frame.

"Oww…Why won't it stop?" he moaned as they slowly crawled their way out from under the bed. After they each made their way out, they silently knelt next to one another on the floor.

They glared at each other before rising to their feet in anger.

"How dare you!"

"How dare you?"

"I would never…"

"Well you did, didn't you?"

"You did as well!"

"No, I…hell."

They stared at one another before they realized the dishevelled state they each were in. Noira angrily fixed the straps on her gown, and grabbed the top comforter, wrapping it around her like a dressing gown. Snape grabbed a pillow and used it to camouflage the obvious effects of that unwanted 'dream.'

They stared at each other in silence before Snape spoke. "That…"

"Never happened."

"We…

"Remember nothing."

"Good."

"Great."

Neither had any idea how they had managed to wrap themselves around the other during the night. Hell, they each slept as far away from the other as they possibly could, even to the point of dangling arms and legs off of the bed. They even had set up a pillow divider between them so there would be no chance of them touching.

Snape sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the pillow in his lap. Nightshirts did not cover everything. He wondered about what had just happened, and cursed fate. Gods, I hate her. It had been an unwanted reminder of what his stupidity had led him to see a few nights ago. As hard as he tried, his body refused to forget the feel of her under him, the suppleness of her form… "ENOUGH!" He slammed his fist against the nightstand and Noira jumped from her seat.

"What was that for?" Noira asked vehemently at his outburst. "It's…" As he turned to answer her, he was mesmerized by a single scarlet plume drifting lazily to the ground.

Noira looked at him in shock. Please don't ask me. Please don't ask me. Please don't ask me.

"Where did that feather come from?"

He asked me. Her voice was barely a whisper as it made its way from her lips. "Please, I can't… don't…"

Snape actually felt a twinge of concern at her inordinate lack of composure. His voice lacked its usual amount of venom as he asked, "Is this what you couldn't tell me?"

She could only look down at the feather when she answered. "Yes."

"I will not ask you about it again."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Snape was still curious, but waited a few moments before asking. "Why can't you tell anyone?"

Noira's eyes snapped up to meet his. "I thought you said you wouldn't ask." Her voice was dark and Snape saw the beginnings of a snarl forming on her lips. No, don't look at her hips—lips, I meant lips.

"You're right." He finally sighed. He glanced over at the clock against her wall. "It's only one in the morning, we should go back to sleep."

"Or… we could go work on the potion?" Her voice was slightly hopeful, as if she really didn't want to go back to bed; she was still flushed from the dream.

"Alright." They both rose and changed with a snap; Snape with a wave of his wand and Noira with a flick of her wrist.

As they left her chambers, they caught site of a spectre zooming away like the hound of Hades was after him. They gave each other one look and came to an agreement.

"Peeves."

Reference to "The Highwayman" by Alfred Noyes.