Anti-lawyer spell: Only borrowing, not making any money with it, promise to
return ( although condition should have improved no guarantee is given).
Please review in abundance, it's the only thing that keeps me going. If there are any beta readers who wouldn't mind giving some constructive crits I would really appreciate it.
Summary: Sometimes dreams can become reality, the problem is deciding which ones and when that line has been crossed. A Snape and Hermione story which may change rating, depending upon the reviews and bunnies.
As sleep gradually receded allowing her conscious mind to rule her actions once again, the irrational fear caught hold of her. Not daring yet to move her body, her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for the familiar to give her some idea of her location, to make sure she had returned from the dream. The feeling of disorientation lessened as she recognised the myriad of cracks and stains that made up the ceiling of her bedroom. The flower patterned curtains which let in as much light as they managed to keep out, were still pulled against the morning stirring outside her flat. Things were just as she had left them, clothes hung in the wardrobe, its door caught open by the hem of a dark robe, books in abundance piled haphazardly across an overcrowded desk. Nothing had moved or changed from its position the night before. Nothing had been changed by the dream. Nothing but me, she thought.
She was not an imaginative person, she had seen too many horrors and wonders to begin making them up. As a muggle she had been brought up to read fairy stories and children's tales, but as a boarder at Hogwarts she had lived the nightmare's the stories generally concealed. Fairy godmothers and pixies sounded nice in Grimm's tales, but in reality they were trouble, they were manipulative and pesky. And although she had become a lot less cynical when it came to allowing for ideas and creatures her logical muggle trained mind told her were not real, having to muck out Hippogriffs tended to ensure you had a healthy respect for the possibility that these things might exist, might be real.
It made understanding what was happening to her more complex. She recognised her need to find another soul to cleave to. She longed for a companion to understand her, to truly care about the way she felt, about her ideas and needs. She wanted to be one half of a whole, but she also wanted that person to fulfil a whole list of other essential requirements. She was picky, and it tended to spoil any potential relationships before they even got off the ground.
She smiled wanly as she swung her legs out of bed, shuffling her feet into a worn pair of red slippers and stretching her arms above her head to work some of the cricks from her frame. Grinning in earnest at the loud crack which announced her shoulder returning to its rightful place, she rose and made her way into the bathroom, calling good morning to her cat as he opened an eye to watch her. Gazing bleary eyed into the mirror she took in the sight of her sleep creased face, cinnamon eyes under long black eyelashes, brown hair currently a haze of disorder around her head. She rubbed her eyes, looking critically at her wide mouth, and even features. Not too bad, she thought, rubbing her hand down the side of her neck, easing the muscles.
It was then that she saw the mark, not particularly large or painful, but a bite mark nevertheless. Pulling back her hair and peering into the mirror she realised exactly what it was, a love mark, a mark that she had no conscious knowledge of receiving, and yet it marred her neck and stood defiantly red against the cream of her skin.
"Nothing has changed." she murmured to herself, "Nothing but you!"
.
Please review in abundance, it's the only thing that keeps me going. If there are any beta readers who wouldn't mind giving some constructive crits I would really appreciate it.
Summary: Sometimes dreams can become reality, the problem is deciding which ones and when that line has been crossed. A Snape and Hermione story which may change rating, depending upon the reviews and bunnies.
As sleep gradually receded allowing her conscious mind to rule her actions once again, the irrational fear caught hold of her. Not daring yet to move her body, her eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for the familiar to give her some idea of her location, to make sure she had returned from the dream. The feeling of disorientation lessened as she recognised the myriad of cracks and stains that made up the ceiling of her bedroom. The flower patterned curtains which let in as much light as they managed to keep out, were still pulled against the morning stirring outside her flat. Things were just as she had left them, clothes hung in the wardrobe, its door caught open by the hem of a dark robe, books in abundance piled haphazardly across an overcrowded desk. Nothing had moved or changed from its position the night before. Nothing had been changed by the dream. Nothing but me, she thought.
She was not an imaginative person, she had seen too many horrors and wonders to begin making them up. As a muggle she had been brought up to read fairy stories and children's tales, but as a boarder at Hogwarts she had lived the nightmare's the stories generally concealed. Fairy godmothers and pixies sounded nice in Grimm's tales, but in reality they were trouble, they were manipulative and pesky. And although she had become a lot less cynical when it came to allowing for ideas and creatures her logical muggle trained mind told her were not real, having to muck out Hippogriffs tended to ensure you had a healthy respect for the possibility that these things might exist, might be real.
It made understanding what was happening to her more complex. She recognised her need to find another soul to cleave to. She longed for a companion to understand her, to truly care about the way she felt, about her ideas and needs. She wanted to be one half of a whole, but she also wanted that person to fulfil a whole list of other essential requirements. She was picky, and it tended to spoil any potential relationships before they even got off the ground.
She smiled wanly as she swung her legs out of bed, shuffling her feet into a worn pair of red slippers and stretching her arms above her head to work some of the cricks from her frame. Grinning in earnest at the loud crack which announced her shoulder returning to its rightful place, she rose and made her way into the bathroom, calling good morning to her cat as he opened an eye to watch her. Gazing bleary eyed into the mirror she took in the sight of her sleep creased face, cinnamon eyes under long black eyelashes, brown hair currently a haze of disorder around her head. She rubbed her eyes, looking critically at her wide mouth, and even features. Not too bad, she thought, rubbing her hand down the side of her neck, easing the muscles.
It was then that she saw the mark, not particularly large or painful, but a bite mark nevertheless. Pulling back her hair and peering into the mirror she realised exactly what it was, a love mark, a mark that she had no conscious knowledge of receiving, and yet it marred her neck and stood defiantly red against the cream of her skin.
"Nothing has changed." she murmured to herself, "Nothing but you!"
.