Prologue

Disclaimer: I am a tease and do not actually own any of these character. But JK Rowling killed Dumbledore, so her judgment can't be trusted. J/k

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Hermione pushed the hair out of her eyes, running a hand over her exhausted eyes. Slowly, turning to another page in her studying, she scribbled words hastily onto the parchment before her and reread the last paragraph, realizing that it no longer made any sense. With a sigh, she rose from the chair which had become her home for the last few days and trudged up the stairs to her dormitory. Placing all of her books, jars of ink, and parchment beside her bag, she climbed into bed, fully clothed, and fell asleep within minutes.

"Come to me, enchantress of the night. Find me and remove my bitterness…" a voice whispered. In the dream, Hermione was standing at the edge of the Lake and staring into its depths; one step and she would fall into the placid waters. Looking down, she realized she was wearing the same dress that she always wore in these dreams: long, white, with a tight bodice which flowed out from her waist and fell at her ankles.

She turned to where she knew the voice was coming from and made her way up the small hill, walking slowly because she was barefoot. Slowly, anxious of being caught even in the dreams, she made her way up the stairs towards the room where she knew he would be this late at night. She did not understand why she always made her way up the same stairs to his room, why she felt this way about him in these nightly visions. It was the dream that controlled her, not the way it should have been. Without knocking, Hermione turned the knob and entered the room. He has obviously gotten tired of grading papers because although there was a pile of ungraded papers, his head was resting on his arms. He had removed his robes and was wearing a white shirt and black pants. He almost looked like a Muggle. His eyes were closed, the small wrinkles on the sides of his eyes smooth in his slumber. She stood right next to him, and slowly, so as not to disturb him, she reached out her hand and touched his neck softly, so gently that he would not have even known if he had been awake. But his hand flashed out and caught her, his head rising and his dark eyes catching her light brown ones.

"Why do you come to me every night? Why do you torture me?" his voice was ragged, in such deep agony that Hermione was a little scared at the moment.

"I do not know. This is not real. This is but a dream," she whispered, turning the hand that had caught her wrist until she slid it down so that she could intertwine her fingers with his. He rose in one swift motion, turning away from her and walking quickly over to the window, throwing open the windows so as to let the cool night air in. He stood with his back to her, arms clutching the window frame violently. He would not turn around and she realized that he was afraid of something.

"You called to me," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear. "You called me enchantress and asked me remove your bitterness. I know your voice. You called to me." Slowly, so as not to scare him, she walked to the windows and stood silently next to him.

"You know this can never happen in real life. You do understand that much?" His voice was still a bit rough, but the air had calmed him. She nodded; if she was not feeling the very emotions that coursed so violently through her, she would have laughed at the absurdity of nodding when he was looking in another direction. Carefully, she reached out her left hand and touched his right arm, then pulled it away from the window frame. He did not yet turn, but stood there, fixed to the glass. Realizing that he would not push her away, she stepped to her left, so that her back was to him and she was between him and the window. He breathed in harshly as she moved, and when she finally stood still, his right arm came around her waist. She reached up to touch his left arm and it too came around her. Now, with a sad smile on her face, she turned. To look at his face. When she saw him during the day, they acted so differently that she did not understand how she loved him so passionately during the dreams. It was as though they were two different people, one her teacher and another her lover. His eyes were staring at her, and the expression in them was a combination of pain, sadness and passion. He loved her too, in the dreams. He lowered his face until he could rest his forehead against hers and closed his eyes.

"This pains me so, and yet, it is the only time in my life that I do not feel broken or incomplete." His voice was a whisper and Hermione closed her eyes too.

"I do not understand how I can love you so much during these dreams. It is as though we are both two different people." She moved her face up so she could touch her lips to his. His lips were soft, but cracked. She pressed her lips to them again and this time, he kissed her back. It was not angrily, as she had expected. There was only sadness and love in that kiss, no anger.

"You break me, Hermione. You break who I am when you come to me." He said when they finally pulled apart. "I thought I knew who I was, what I wanted with my life. But in the dark, when you put on that dress and come to me, you break away that part of me and I cannot force myself to leave, even when I know I should."

"I know you should leave. I know I should leave. But you will not and I cannot. I am transfixed," she whispered, kissing his eyelids when he closed his eyes. She loved his eyelids, she thought to herself. She even loved them. Without thinking, her eyes pooled and she felt a tear leak out from her right eye. Thankfully his eyes were closed and he could not see that she was brought to tears by how much she could feel for him, and only him.

He kissed her forehead and pulled her closer, until her hands lifted to his neck and she lay her head on his shoulder, looking up at him. She let out a sigh and moved her arms so that they were loosely around his waist. Safety and comfort were all she felt in that moment, with her head resting against his shoulder and his head resting on her own. He pressed his lips to her hair and she sighed in happiness again.

"Hermione," What was happening? Why was someone calling her now? "Not yet," he whispered, holding her more tightly as though she was trying to escape. She looked up and he pressed his lips against her, this time desperate. "Don't go yet," he whispered. In his eyes, there was a look of great sadness and pain. This truly was torturing him.

"I don't want to. But the dream controls me. I no longer have control of this." She kissed him again, tasting his despair and need for her.

"Hermione!" She was being shaken now and she realized the dream was ending. "I love you," she whispered to him. She kissed him one last time and though his arms tried to hold onto her with all his might, she was being pulled out of the dream, out of his office, the safety of his embrace.

"Hermione, I love you too and all, but wake up. You have your exams in about an hour, and I thought you might want breakfast, and a shower before your test. So I'm waking you up now. So wake up," the voice explained as two small hands pushed her until she nearly fell off of the bed.