Miles above a guilt-ridden Potions Master, Harry Potter shifted under his own sheets in Gryffindor Tower. His mouth opened in a silent gasp of desire, his mind lost in the throes of a dream that starved his lungs of air and sent his heart racing beneath his ribcage. His spine arched towards his trailing hand as his palm pressed and glided against the bulge struggling against the confines of his pajama bottoms.
Harry entered the dungeon office of Hogwarts' Potions Master without knocking. Snape sat behind his desk, working diligently on some parchment. Attractive half-moon spectacles sat perched on the overlarge nose. Without a word, Harry moved across the dimly lit office and glided around the desk. His fingers reached out to caress slim, tense shoulders as he came to stand behind the hunched Potions Master. He drew a gentle moan, the falcon feather quill falling from a loosened grasp, as his fingers began kneading at muscles hidden beneath black robes.
"You work too hard," Harry murmured against a vaguely pointed ear.
Snape moaned again as he arched into Harry's continued ministrations. "How perceptive of you," The older wizard mumbled sarcastically.
Harry chuckled, searching out the knots of muscle and coaxing them free of their confines. Slim fingers reached up and stopped his hand, drawing his arm over the dark clad shoulder so that pale lips could press feather-light kisses to his palm. The Gryffindor gasped, his body sparking with desire, as a moist, pink tongue slithered out of the warm cavern to trace the lines of his palm. After a moment, Snape sat back in his chair and encouraged Harry to step around. Harry let himself be led around the chair by the gentle hand, and went willingly as he was drawn down to sit across a black-clad lap.
"What're you doing down here at this hour, Mister Potter?" Snape asked, taking off his own spectacles and tossing them onto the desk.
Harry shivered as long fingers burrowed under his shirt to draw nonsensically on his skin. "I wanted to see you," He murmured, shifting in the lap as his body responded to the light, innocent touches. He felt the hard press of Snape's passion through the fabric of his trousers and couldn't stop a gasp of wanton need.
"Checking up on me, Minx?" Severus queried, his head dipping to trail kisses along Harry's jaw and throat.
The Gryffindor nodded, shifting again over the driving need pressing against his buttocks. He smirked when this action drew a groan of desire from the Potions Master. Again, he wiggled his hips, a feeling of need bursting alight low in his belly. He needed more, but didn't know how to ask.
"Professor…" He breathed gently.
"Tell me what you need, Harry," Snape hissed into his ear.
Harry drove his hips down, harder. "I need to feel you."
Sharp nails scratched teasingly at his side. As can only happen in dreams, Harry found himself unexpectedly lying across the expanse of the teacher's desk, which was suddenly clear of everything but him. Snape's hands glided slowly over his stomach and sides, pressing his shirt ever upward. Light kisses trailed over his abdomen wherever the shirt moved. When his shirt could go no higher, he was coaxed into sitting up and the cloth was slowly pulled over his head, calloused fingers caressing his arms with every inch.
With the shirt gone, Harry moaned as his mouth was devoured in a slow, agonizing hunger. Fingernails scratched at his covered thighs as he was laid back against the desk again. He reached out, and his fingers found flesh, Snape's stifling robes gone without thought or action. Fingers caressed and grazed over naked flesh, all of their clothing now vanished as only dreams can supply. Their bodies pressed together without hesitation, and Harry gasped into the still dungeon air as a burning rod of flesh pressed against him.
Without hesitation, the Savior of the Wizarding World impaled himself slowly on the spear of the Death Eater's passion. The copulating press and glide of their hips was slow and exploratory. Desire sparked between them, but a deeper emotion lit Harry's blood aflame as his soul yearned to mesh with his professor's. There was no fervent need here, as their bodies arched together, consummating unspoken vows of love and devotion.
Slowly, so slowly, Harry felt it as he was led to the edge of the world. He stared fearlessly into the abyss beyond, and let gravity carry him over into clarity's blinding embrace. The universe exploded within him with a silent cry of spent passions.
Harry jerked awake in his bed with a strangled shout that he hardly heard. The sound of his racing heart pulsed in his ears like the ebb and flow of ocean waves in a storm, and he gulped air into his starved lungs. Green eyes flashed with worry as he looked around his sleeping dorm room, praying he hadn't been heard. His dorm mates each lay completely unawares in their beds, illuminated by shimmering moonlight. With a wave of his hand, he quickly banished the seed of guilt from his pants. Shame pressed on his breathless lungs as guilty tears stung behind his eyes.
What had he just done?
Below him, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry slept on.