Disclaimer: Only the twisted little fantasies are mine.
A/N: Okay, here 'tis. Hope you like it.
Chapter Twelve Dreams and Desires
Snape fought through the fog of sleep. He felt as though he was being smothered. The darkness around him enfolded him like an intangible blanket, dragging him down. He couldn't move his arms, couldn't fight against it. He was exhausted trying to fight it.
With a jolt, wakefulness came to him. His brain was still overrun by the fuzziness of dreams, but his senses were wide awake.
Slowly, he became aware of another presence in the room. Lying on his belly, he was unable to turn and look without showing he was awake; a mistake, in his experience. Best if your opponent thought you helpless.
He sensed a figure standing by the bed, the other side to which his head was turned. A light pressure began on his bare back, a featherlight touch that trailed down his spine to the edge of the sheet, and back up again. He should have been fearful, he thought with the more alert regions of his brain, but for some reason he felt safe. The touch was not prompted by a will to do harm.
He felt the figure lean closer, felt the warmth from another body as whoever it was leant over his head.
'Severus,' a female voice whispered. Snape's forehead crinkled in a frown. He recognised that voice. Certainly not using that tone, but he knew...
'Miss Granger?' he asked, turning his head sharply and attempting to sit up.
A hand pressed down on his back, forcing him to lie down again. 'Tut, tut, tut, Severus,' she said.
Snape peered through the darkness to the edge of the bed. It was indeed Hermione Granger, her willowy body encased in a white satin nightgown. The moonlight caught its glint, and bathed her milky skin in its glow, caressing her body. Snape looked at her in puzzlement. Though scantily-clad women were not entirely outside his night-time experience, they were certainly rare- not even one in the last five years- and definitely never an ex-student. There must be a problem, Snape thought, his logical faculties finally waking up.
He tried to sit up once again. 'Miss Granger, is something wrong? Did Dumbledore send you?'
Once again, the hand flat on his back pushed him down again, and Hermione shook her head. Snape realised just how warm that hand felt on his bare skin.
'Bad, Severus. I did not give you permission to sit up, did I?' Hermione asked sweetly.
Snape idly shook his head, his mind abuzz with confusion. This situation was surreal.
'Miss Granger-' he bit the words off as the hand on his back began stroking his skin. 'Miss Granger, why are you here?'
'Oh, Severus,' she purred, leaning closer to whisper in his ear again. He could feel the sweet heat of her breath brushing against his ear, and tried to stop a shudder in reaction. She might have been Hermione Granger, but he was a grown man, and she was, well, the stuff of dreams. As she leant forward, his whole view became encompassed by one perfect, satin- clad breast. She breathed over his ear again, and he bit his lip. 'Severus, in the circumstances, I believe you can call me 'Hermione.'' Her lips moved away from his ear and onto his neck, where she placed a gentle kiss.
Snape shivered. Her intentions couldn't have really been clearer, but he wondered what had brought this on. It was possible that someone had placed the poor girl under a spell, as some sort of revenge. It would be both irresponsible and foolhardy to let her go on.
'Miss Gr-' his words were cut off once more by a nip at the base of his neck. 'Hermione,' he growled. 'I don't know what has caused you to behave in this fashion, but I do believe that you are not currently responsible for your own actions. I think it could be best if I-'
'Shh, Severus,' she whispered, placing a small kiss at the edge of his mouth that made him want to groan. 'I'm a grown woman, and I know what I want. You know what you want, too, don't you?' she asked, trailling her hand further down his back and squeezing his buttocks lightly. He bit his lip again, almost drawing blood. She had to pick exactly his weakest point. He opened his mouth to begin one last valiant attempt to dissuade her, but she shook her head.
'No,' she said. 'I'm doing this because I want to, and so will you. There's no harm in not fighting it, just- for- one- night-' she began punctuating her words with kisses along his back, and Snape gave up his weak resistance. There was only so far a man could be pushed, and the whispered, 'Please,' she said in his ear was his undoing.
She lay on the bed beside him, still forcing him to remain on his stomach, and began running her hands lightly over his back, stroking, touching. The tingling sensations her warm hands brought were pure torture.
Though enjoying her ministrations, the doubt that such a beautiful young woman would be even remotely attracted to a man she evidently hated as much as himself still niggled at his conscious. Finally, he moved slightly, leaning on one elbow to grab her hand.
'Why?' he asked, looking into her eyes. She returned his gaze without flinching.
'Because I want you,' she replied frankly.
As though seeing the doubt in his eyes, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his, her dainty little tongue flicking inside his mouth and stoking the flames of his desire. He moved, to deepen the kiss, and she pulled away, laughing.
'Tut, tut, tut, Severus,' she repeated. 'Do you think I would just come in here, without wanting to torture you?' She smiled wickedly, and took his hand, tugging so that he fell flat on his belly once more. Leaning over him, she whispered an incantation, and Snape felt his arms being locked to the bed.
Hermione climbed on top of him, the satin of her nightgown brushing and teasing his skin. With her hands and lips, she worked her way down to the base of his spine, torturing him almost beyond endurance. As the sheet slid down to his feet, Snape gave up the fight to keep silent, letting her skillful touches elicit moans and growls from his chest.
Hermione once again straddled him, her nightgown pooled around her hips. *Oh, gods,* Snape thought as he felt the wetness between her thighs press against his skin. It was a sensation far beyond the erotic. She pressed her hips down, grinding herself against him, and Snape bucked and moaned, his hands gripping the sheets in desperation to keep control. Small, purely female sounds erupted from her throat, making his frustrated desire to touch her even stronger. The granite-hard length of his erection pressed into the bed as he strained against the weight of her on his back.
She leant forward, and Snape felt the brush of her bare breasts on his skin. The sensation was almost too much. Just the thought of her beautiful, naked body squirming on top of his nearly drove Snape over the edge.
Hermione bit and licked his neck, adding to the wetness on his skin. 'Oh, Severus,' she moaned, running her hands along his sides. 'I want you so much. Just the thought of having you inside me- I can't stand it- It just makes me want to-'
Feeling her hips on top of him, feeling the mounds of her breasts pressing into his back, hearing the alluring words she whispered in his ear, painting tempting scenarios and confiding dark fantasies, Snape was pushed into climax.
Drenched with sweat, his heart beating wildly in his chest, Severus Snape woke into the empty darkness. He rolled over onto his back, ignoring the patch of wetness left on the bed behind him, frowning into the night.
'Damn,' he muttered.
***
Ailie woke up with a start, her heart pounding. Whew. She had known that her link with Snape would cause at least a part of his dream to be transferred to her, but hadn't dreamed that it would have been quite this... intense.
The first rays of the winter dawn peeked in through the curtains, and Ailie stretched. Well, there was no chance of any further sleep after that highly disturbing experience, she reflected, and sat up.
Her body was still tingling with the remains of Snape's arousal. It was a very strange sensation, experiencing another's emotions this strongly. Of course, she had shared this link with her parents, and one or two friends in her coven, but somehow Snape's wizard blood had shifted the chemistry in her own, so that the link faded in and out, more like bad wiring than anything. But boy, when they were connected, they were connected.
Shivering, Ailie put on a nightgown and began pacing the room. So, their experiment had worked. Wow, had it worked. She remembered feeling Snape's shameful frustration, and shivered. This was far too odd. She needed something to take her mind away from this.
Almost as though she had sensed Ailie's thoughts, Hermione's head appeared in the fireplace, smiling.
'Happy Christmas!' she said. 'I was hoping you'd be up. Just a second, and I'll get your presents.' Her head disappeared, and soon the woman herself was in Ailie's living room, a bag of presents in her hand. Ailie was thankful that Hermione was wrapped up in a voluminous robe, fluffy slippers bordering on the ridiculous on her feet. If there had been a hint of silk, Ailie didn't know how she would have coped with the oddity of the situation.
Hermione caught her looking at her strangely and looked down at herself.
'What?' she asked with a frown. 'Have I put on odd socks or something?'
Ailie shook her head, slumping down onto the couch. 'No.'
'Then what?' Hermione put down her bag and sat next to her friend on the couch. 'What's wrong?'
Ailie shook her head. 'Snape dreamt about you,' she said dazedly.
'Oh. *Oh,*' Hermione said, her face paling. 'You don't mean that he-'
Ailie looked at her. 'Oh, yes I do. I should know. I had to be there for it.'
Hermione's face paled even further. 'No. This can't be true.'
'It is, believe me.' Ailie, realising that the news was upsetting her friend, patted Hermione's hand. 'I wouldn't lie to you about this. You were in his dream. But I won't talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.'
Hermione stared at the fireplace for a moment, and her face calmed. 'No, I think I'm okay. And you obviously need to talk about it.' When she looked back at Ailie, the other girl was amused to note the curiosity in her eyes. So Hermione's interested, is she? she wondered.
'Well,' she began, cautiously. 'You sort of- seduced him.'
Hermione's eyes were wide. 'You mean he dreamt that he and I-'
Ailie shook her head. 'No... not really. You sort of just... kissed him. On his back. You didn't even touch, you know, anything. But he was very- well, he liked it very much.' Ailie wondered how much detail she should go into with the sexually innocent girl. She didn't want to scare her.
A contemplative look came over Hermione's face. 'He liked me touching him?' she asked.
Ailie smiled. 'More than liked it. All you had to do was lie on top of his back and nibble on his ear a bit and he-' she stopped, seeing Hermione blush. 'Well, anyway, I thought you might feature in his dream, but I didn't know it would be quite that much. It was pretty full-on,' she said. Hermione looked at her with concern.
'Did you- were you, you know, really drawn in- were you-'
Ailie laughed at her friend's stuttering. 'No, don't worry, I'm not about to jump you because I've got the hots for you. It was more like...' she paused, searching for a way to put it into words. 'It was more like being in the room, and knowing exactly how he felt, without feeling it myself. Still,' she added with a grimace, 'I could do without a repeat performance.'
Hermione again looked thoughtful. 'This doesn't mean that you and Sirius were right, you know,' she said. 'It's possible that the subconscious-'
Ailie held up a hand to cut her off. 'Hermione, face it, the man's got the serious hots for you. I've known it all along, and after last night, he knows it too. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to ravage you over the breakfast table. He'll certainly want to,' she added, in a thoughtful tone, and smiled. The bonus side of their prank was beginning to surface in her mind. Snape would be one frustrated bunny this morning, she knew.
Hermione remained quiet for the rest of the morning, as they each opened their presents and drank some tea. After an hour's comfortable companionship, Ailie felt more calm, and was delighted when Sirius and Harry barged in. The four of them spent an enjoyable early morning before heading down to the traditionally late Christmas breakfast.
Ailie noted that Hermione put a little more care into her appearance that morning, putting her hair up into a loose bun and adjusting her deep green robes to fit more snugly. The effect was graceful and alluring, and Ailie thought she perceived a secret smile on her friend's face as they headed down to breakfast.
***
Hermione determinedly kept her eyes to her own part of the table as she ate her morning meal. She was not, she told herself, even remotely interested to see how Severus Snape looked this morning. She was not interested to see if he had looked at her. She did not want to know if he had trouble concentrating on his breakfast. And she especially had no interest to see if there was any admiration in his gaze for her newly-adjusted outfit.
Still, she couldn't keep some thoughts from her mind. Just what, she wondered idly, did it feel like to have a man run his hands over a bared neck? Exactly how did it feel to feel the raspy stubble on a man's chin as he kissed you?
The last boy she had kissed had been, well, a boy. In fact, she remembered, the last boy she had kissed had been Ron. What a thought. It had been a year after she had broken up with Viktor, and she and Ron had been bored. Harry wasn't around, they'd had the common room to themselves, and so they'd snogged like the couple of teenagers they were for an hour or two. It had been fun, but nothing that had elicited a repeat performance from either of them, and it had marked the end of Ron's crush on her. Luckily, they had been unaffected enough by it for their friendship to remain free of awkwardness, and as far as Hermione knew, she and Ron were the only ones with knowledge of it.
Had it really been that long since she'd kissed someone? Been kissed by someone? The thought was more than depressing. There had been a couple of boys who would probably have been willing, but she had always shied away. She didn't want to be kissed just because a boy was looking for something to do, she wanted to be kissed because... Hermione frowned. She didn't really know. But whenever she
thought of Severus Snape dreaming about her, she knew what she didn't want. She definitely did not want curiosity kisses; she wanted need.
A small smile crossed her face, and, her guard down, she looked up. Her eyes met Snape's, though both looked away before anyone would have been aware that the moment had passed at all.
Hermione stared steadily down at her plate, her mind working furiously. Don't think about that, she thought desperately. Whatever you do, don't think about that!
Thus it was that Severus Snape ruined two breakfasts that morning.
***
Snape contemplated the bubbles in his coffee, counting them and doing anything but thinking about the ache in his groin, and the woman that had caused it.
It was bad enough without looking at her, he thought to himself. From the moment he had awoken in the earlier hours of the morning, the slightest relaxation in his control over himself had resulted in great discomfort. Just the thought of her made his blood boil, and from a feeling far from anger; the three frigid showers he had had this morning were testament to that. They had failed in their purpose, however, because every time he dried himself off he became aware of the scratch marks on his shoulders which were a very tangible reminder of his dream. And every time he remembered them, he remembered the ferocity, the pure wantonness of his dream Hermione...
Hermione. There we go again, he thought. Even the thought of her name set his over-active pulse to racing.
The dream had been so unbelievably intense. So real. So real, in fact, that he could almost smell her on his skin. Though he realised now that it had not really been Hermione Granger in his room last night, merely a fantasized creature of his under-used libido, he could not prevent his body from reacting to the real Hermione just as if it was she who had left him panting and starved for her last night.
He clenched his fists and looked down at the toast he had failed to take a bite of. Every time he thought of eating, he wanted to look up and watch Hermione. She was eating a bowl of cereal, he knew, and the last time he had looked up there had been a droplet of milk still on her perfect, rosy lip...
This really was getting ridiculous.
When he felt able to stand without embarassing himself, Snape pushed back from the table and strode from the room without a word. Luckily, his colleagues were used to such behaviour. Usually, however, it wasn't as warranted as it had been this morning.
That... dream. It had come from out of nowhere. Though a healthy man, it was rare that Snape's dreams were focused on a pleasant topic. If one could call such torture pleasant, he thought. Waking up this morning had been hell. If his dream-Hermione had wanted to torture him, as she had promised, she had certainly done an excellent job.
Wait a second. Snape paused, mid-stride. That thought struck a chord. Something about wanting to torture him was not just a memory from the dream. It was a thought on the edge of his mind. Though he couldn't quite grasp it, he was familiar with the sensation. Ailie.
That dratted girl. After all their talking of yesterday she had formulated some sort of plan- he didn't know the details, but he was beyond certain that that tortuous dream had been that Wiccan wench's doing.
With an evil glower on his face, Snape swept back toward his rooms. First some soothing potion, he believed, and then time to find Ailie. She would pay dearly for his discomfort.
A/N: Okay, here 'tis. Hope you like it.
Chapter Twelve Dreams and Desires
Snape fought through the fog of sleep. He felt as though he was being smothered. The darkness around him enfolded him like an intangible blanket, dragging him down. He couldn't move his arms, couldn't fight against it. He was exhausted trying to fight it.
With a jolt, wakefulness came to him. His brain was still overrun by the fuzziness of dreams, but his senses were wide awake.
Slowly, he became aware of another presence in the room. Lying on his belly, he was unable to turn and look without showing he was awake; a mistake, in his experience. Best if your opponent thought you helpless.
He sensed a figure standing by the bed, the other side to which his head was turned. A light pressure began on his bare back, a featherlight touch that trailed down his spine to the edge of the sheet, and back up again. He should have been fearful, he thought with the more alert regions of his brain, but for some reason he felt safe. The touch was not prompted by a will to do harm.
He felt the figure lean closer, felt the warmth from another body as whoever it was leant over his head.
'Severus,' a female voice whispered. Snape's forehead crinkled in a frown. He recognised that voice. Certainly not using that tone, but he knew...
'Miss Granger?' he asked, turning his head sharply and attempting to sit up.
A hand pressed down on his back, forcing him to lie down again. 'Tut, tut, tut, Severus,' she said.
Snape peered through the darkness to the edge of the bed. It was indeed Hermione Granger, her willowy body encased in a white satin nightgown. The moonlight caught its glint, and bathed her milky skin in its glow, caressing her body. Snape looked at her in puzzlement. Though scantily-clad women were not entirely outside his night-time experience, they were certainly rare- not even one in the last five years- and definitely never an ex-student. There must be a problem, Snape thought, his logical faculties finally waking up.
He tried to sit up once again. 'Miss Granger, is something wrong? Did Dumbledore send you?'
Once again, the hand flat on his back pushed him down again, and Hermione shook her head. Snape realised just how warm that hand felt on his bare skin.
'Bad, Severus. I did not give you permission to sit up, did I?' Hermione asked sweetly.
Snape idly shook his head, his mind abuzz with confusion. This situation was surreal.
'Miss Granger-' he bit the words off as the hand on his back began stroking his skin. 'Miss Granger, why are you here?'
'Oh, Severus,' she purred, leaning closer to whisper in his ear again. He could feel the sweet heat of her breath brushing against his ear, and tried to stop a shudder in reaction. She might have been Hermione Granger, but he was a grown man, and she was, well, the stuff of dreams. As she leant forward, his whole view became encompassed by one perfect, satin- clad breast. She breathed over his ear again, and he bit his lip. 'Severus, in the circumstances, I believe you can call me 'Hermione.'' Her lips moved away from his ear and onto his neck, where she placed a gentle kiss.
Snape shivered. Her intentions couldn't have really been clearer, but he wondered what had brought this on. It was possible that someone had placed the poor girl under a spell, as some sort of revenge. It would be both irresponsible and foolhardy to let her go on.
'Miss Gr-' his words were cut off once more by a nip at the base of his neck. 'Hermione,' he growled. 'I don't know what has caused you to behave in this fashion, but I do believe that you are not currently responsible for your own actions. I think it could be best if I-'
'Shh, Severus,' she whispered, placing a small kiss at the edge of his mouth that made him want to groan. 'I'm a grown woman, and I know what I want. You know what you want, too, don't you?' she asked, trailling her hand further down his back and squeezing his buttocks lightly. He bit his lip again, almost drawing blood. She had to pick exactly his weakest point. He opened his mouth to begin one last valiant attempt to dissuade her, but she shook her head.
'No,' she said. 'I'm doing this because I want to, and so will you. There's no harm in not fighting it, just- for- one- night-' she began punctuating her words with kisses along his back, and Snape gave up his weak resistance. There was only so far a man could be pushed, and the whispered, 'Please,' she said in his ear was his undoing.
She lay on the bed beside him, still forcing him to remain on his stomach, and began running her hands lightly over his back, stroking, touching. The tingling sensations her warm hands brought were pure torture.
Though enjoying her ministrations, the doubt that such a beautiful young woman would be even remotely attracted to a man she evidently hated as much as himself still niggled at his conscious. Finally, he moved slightly, leaning on one elbow to grab her hand.
'Why?' he asked, looking into her eyes. She returned his gaze without flinching.
'Because I want you,' she replied frankly.
As though seeing the doubt in his eyes, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his, her dainty little tongue flicking inside his mouth and stoking the flames of his desire. He moved, to deepen the kiss, and she pulled away, laughing.
'Tut, tut, tut, Severus,' she repeated. 'Do you think I would just come in here, without wanting to torture you?' She smiled wickedly, and took his hand, tugging so that he fell flat on his belly once more. Leaning over him, she whispered an incantation, and Snape felt his arms being locked to the bed.
Hermione climbed on top of him, the satin of her nightgown brushing and teasing his skin. With her hands and lips, she worked her way down to the base of his spine, torturing him almost beyond endurance. As the sheet slid down to his feet, Snape gave up the fight to keep silent, letting her skillful touches elicit moans and growls from his chest.
Hermione once again straddled him, her nightgown pooled around her hips. *Oh, gods,* Snape thought as he felt the wetness between her thighs press against his skin. It was a sensation far beyond the erotic. She pressed her hips down, grinding herself against him, and Snape bucked and moaned, his hands gripping the sheets in desperation to keep control. Small, purely female sounds erupted from her throat, making his frustrated desire to touch her even stronger. The granite-hard length of his erection pressed into the bed as he strained against the weight of her on his back.
She leant forward, and Snape felt the brush of her bare breasts on his skin. The sensation was almost too much. Just the thought of her beautiful, naked body squirming on top of his nearly drove Snape over the edge.
Hermione bit and licked his neck, adding to the wetness on his skin. 'Oh, Severus,' she moaned, running her hands along his sides. 'I want you so much. Just the thought of having you inside me- I can't stand it- It just makes me want to-'
Feeling her hips on top of him, feeling the mounds of her breasts pressing into his back, hearing the alluring words she whispered in his ear, painting tempting scenarios and confiding dark fantasies, Snape was pushed into climax.
Drenched with sweat, his heart beating wildly in his chest, Severus Snape woke into the empty darkness. He rolled over onto his back, ignoring the patch of wetness left on the bed behind him, frowning into the night.
'Damn,' he muttered.
***
Ailie woke up with a start, her heart pounding. Whew. She had known that her link with Snape would cause at least a part of his dream to be transferred to her, but hadn't dreamed that it would have been quite this... intense.
The first rays of the winter dawn peeked in through the curtains, and Ailie stretched. Well, there was no chance of any further sleep after that highly disturbing experience, she reflected, and sat up.
Her body was still tingling with the remains of Snape's arousal. It was a very strange sensation, experiencing another's emotions this strongly. Of course, she had shared this link with her parents, and one or two friends in her coven, but somehow Snape's wizard blood had shifted the chemistry in her own, so that the link faded in and out, more like bad wiring than anything. But boy, when they were connected, they were connected.
Shivering, Ailie put on a nightgown and began pacing the room. So, their experiment had worked. Wow, had it worked. She remembered feeling Snape's shameful frustration, and shivered. This was far too odd. She needed something to take her mind away from this.
Almost as though she had sensed Ailie's thoughts, Hermione's head appeared in the fireplace, smiling.
'Happy Christmas!' she said. 'I was hoping you'd be up. Just a second, and I'll get your presents.' Her head disappeared, and soon the woman herself was in Ailie's living room, a bag of presents in her hand. Ailie was thankful that Hermione was wrapped up in a voluminous robe, fluffy slippers bordering on the ridiculous on her feet. If there had been a hint of silk, Ailie didn't know how she would have coped with the oddity of the situation.
Hermione caught her looking at her strangely and looked down at herself.
'What?' she asked with a frown. 'Have I put on odd socks or something?'
Ailie shook her head, slumping down onto the couch. 'No.'
'Then what?' Hermione put down her bag and sat next to her friend on the couch. 'What's wrong?'
Ailie shook her head. 'Snape dreamt about you,' she said dazedly.
'Oh. *Oh,*' Hermione said, her face paling. 'You don't mean that he-'
Ailie looked at her. 'Oh, yes I do. I should know. I had to be there for it.'
Hermione's face paled even further. 'No. This can't be true.'
'It is, believe me.' Ailie, realising that the news was upsetting her friend, patted Hermione's hand. 'I wouldn't lie to you about this. You were in his dream. But I won't talk about it if it makes you uncomfortable.'
Hermione stared at the fireplace for a moment, and her face calmed. 'No, I think I'm okay. And you obviously need to talk about it.' When she looked back at Ailie, the other girl was amused to note the curiosity in her eyes. So Hermione's interested, is she? she wondered.
'Well,' she began, cautiously. 'You sort of- seduced him.'
Hermione's eyes were wide. 'You mean he dreamt that he and I-'
Ailie shook her head. 'No... not really. You sort of just... kissed him. On his back. You didn't even touch, you know, anything. But he was very- well, he liked it very much.' Ailie wondered how much detail she should go into with the sexually innocent girl. She didn't want to scare her.
A contemplative look came over Hermione's face. 'He liked me touching him?' she asked.
Ailie smiled. 'More than liked it. All you had to do was lie on top of his back and nibble on his ear a bit and he-' she stopped, seeing Hermione blush. 'Well, anyway, I thought you might feature in his dream, but I didn't know it would be quite that much. It was pretty full-on,' she said. Hermione looked at her with concern.
'Did you- were you, you know, really drawn in- were you-'
Ailie laughed at her friend's stuttering. 'No, don't worry, I'm not about to jump you because I've got the hots for you. It was more like...' she paused, searching for a way to put it into words. 'It was more like being in the room, and knowing exactly how he felt, without feeling it myself. Still,' she added with a grimace, 'I could do without a repeat performance.'
Hermione again looked thoughtful. 'This doesn't mean that you and Sirius were right, you know,' she said. 'It's possible that the subconscious-'
Ailie held up a hand to cut her off. 'Hermione, face it, the man's got the serious hots for you. I've known it all along, and after last night, he knows it too. I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to ravage you over the breakfast table. He'll certainly want to,' she added, in a thoughtful tone, and smiled. The bonus side of their prank was beginning to surface in her mind. Snape would be one frustrated bunny this morning, she knew.
Hermione remained quiet for the rest of the morning, as they each opened their presents and drank some tea. After an hour's comfortable companionship, Ailie felt more calm, and was delighted when Sirius and Harry barged in. The four of them spent an enjoyable early morning before heading down to the traditionally late Christmas breakfast.
Ailie noted that Hermione put a little more care into her appearance that morning, putting her hair up into a loose bun and adjusting her deep green robes to fit more snugly. The effect was graceful and alluring, and Ailie thought she perceived a secret smile on her friend's face as they headed down to breakfast.
***
Hermione determinedly kept her eyes to her own part of the table as she ate her morning meal. She was not, she told herself, even remotely interested to see how Severus Snape looked this morning. She was not interested to see if he had looked at her. She did not want to know if he had trouble concentrating on his breakfast. And she especially had no interest to see if there was any admiration in his gaze for her newly-adjusted outfit.
Still, she couldn't keep some thoughts from her mind. Just what, she wondered idly, did it feel like to have a man run his hands over a bared neck? Exactly how did it feel to feel the raspy stubble on a man's chin as he kissed you?
The last boy she had kissed had been, well, a boy. In fact, she remembered, the last boy she had kissed had been Ron. What a thought. It had been a year after she had broken up with Viktor, and she and Ron had been bored. Harry wasn't around, they'd had the common room to themselves, and so they'd snogged like the couple of teenagers they were for an hour or two. It had been fun, but nothing that had elicited a repeat performance from either of them, and it had marked the end of Ron's crush on her. Luckily, they had been unaffected enough by it for their friendship to remain free of awkwardness, and as far as Hermione knew, she and Ron were the only ones with knowledge of it.
Had it really been that long since she'd kissed someone? Been kissed by someone? The thought was more than depressing. There had been a couple of boys who would probably have been willing, but she had always shied away. She didn't want to be kissed just because a boy was looking for something to do, she wanted to be kissed because... Hermione frowned. She didn't really know. But whenever she
thought of Severus Snape dreaming about her, she knew what she didn't want. She definitely did not want curiosity kisses; she wanted need.
A small smile crossed her face, and, her guard down, she looked up. Her eyes met Snape's, though both looked away before anyone would have been aware that the moment had passed at all.
Hermione stared steadily down at her plate, her mind working furiously. Don't think about that, she thought desperately. Whatever you do, don't think about that!
Thus it was that Severus Snape ruined two breakfasts that morning.
***
Snape contemplated the bubbles in his coffee, counting them and doing anything but thinking about the ache in his groin, and the woman that had caused it.
It was bad enough without looking at her, he thought to himself. From the moment he had awoken in the earlier hours of the morning, the slightest relaxation in his control over himself had resulted in great discomfort. Just the thought of her made his blood boil, and from a feeling far from anger; the three frigid showers he had had this morning were testament to that. They had failed in their purpose, however, because every time he dried himself off he became aware of the scratch marks on his shoulders which were a very tangible reminder of his dream. And every time he remembered them, he remembered the ferocity, the pure wantonness of his dream Hermione...
Hermione. There we go again, he thought. Even the thought of her name set his over-active pulse to racing.
The dream had been so unbelievably intense. So real. So real, in fact, that he could almost smell her on his skin. Though he realised now that it had not really been Hermione Granger in his room last night, merely a fantasized creature of his under-used libido, he could not prevent his body from reacting to the real Hermione just as if it was she who had left him panting and starved for her last night.
He clenched his fists and looked down at the toast he had failed to take a bite of. Every time he thought of eating, he wanted to look up and watch Hermione. She was eating a bowl of cereal, he knew, and the last time he had looked up there had been a droplet of milk still on her perfect, rosy lip...
This really was getting ridiculous.
When he felt able to stand without embarassing himself, Snape pushed back from the table and strode from the room without a word. Luckily, his colleagues were used to such behaviour. Usually, however, it wasn't as warranted as it had been this morning.
That... dream. It had come from out of nowhere. Though a healthy man, it was rare that Snape's dreams were focused on a pleasant topic. If one could call such torture pleasant, he thought. Waking up this morning had been hell. If his dream-Hermione had wanted to torture him, as she had promised, she had certainly done an excellent job.
Wait a second. Snape paused, mid-stride. That thought struck a chord. Something about wanting to torture him was not just a memory from the dream. It was a thought on the edge of his mind. Though he couldn't quite grasp it, he was familiar with the sensation. Ailie.
That dratted girl. After all their talking of yesterday she had formulated some sort of plan- he didn't know the details, but he was beyond certain that that tortuous dream had been that Wiccan wench's doing.
With an evil glower on his face, Snape swept back toward his rooms. First some soothing potion, he believed, and then time to find Ailie. She would pay dearly for his discomfort.