Disclaimer: The Potterverse is not mine. JKR wins that claim.

In Dreams

She is an angel. My angel, specifically, when I dream. She's known me at my best, and my worst, but still loves me, in my dreams. She makes sure I don't drink myself in to a stupor, she holds me when I'm upset, she soothes my feathers, so to speak, when I'm in a temper. She saves me from myself, in every way. If only she were truly mine. I've never told anyone any of this, though I think Albus knows. I'm sure that he ensures that she sits next to me at meals, and during the interminable hours spent at staff meetings. She's so close then. I can smell her hair.

She's been beautiful to me since her seventh year as a student. I can still remember the day I put my heart in her graceful hands. The final battle, the last confrontation between Voldemort and the Order was raging on the grounds of Hogwarts. I can still see her clearly, her hair falling out of its knot on her head, tendrils working her way around her face. She was flanking Potter, protecting him as he made his way to Voldemort. She was letting curses fly in every direction, seldom missing her mark. Her face was like stone, as beads of sweat made their way down her face. She looked like a goddess to me, defending her best friend and the world she had become a part of.

She was absolutely wild, that day, and after the battle was won, she fell into the arms of the first person she found. Me. She wept, sob racking her slim frame. I could feel every one of them. All I could do was hold her, rubbing her back as she cried for her friend, who emerged victorious, against all odds, for her parents, victims to the cruelty of Voldemort, and for herself, the girl forced into womanhood overnight. She looked into my eyes, tears making paths down her dirt stained face, and she smiled.

She stood up then, thanked me for my kindness, and made her way over to Potter and Weasley, who caught her up in a fierce embrace. I watched this exchange, letting my newfound feelings wash over me, before futility sunk in, and I made my way back to my solitary chambers. I didn't take part in the celebrations that ensued that night. I was trying to make sense of the emotions coursing through me. The night had fallen, and I wearily made my way to my bedchamber.

It's only at night, slumbering in my bed, that I allow my mind to wander. How she would feel beneath me as we made love, her voice moaning my name. Or how much lighter my life would be if she were waiting in my chambers every evening after classes, sitting on our couch, a book in her hands, her shapely legs tucked beneath her, her lovely brow furrowed as she made sense of what she was reading. I could sit next to her, and she'd lean up against me, a sigh escaping from her lips. I could drop a kiss on her forehead, and take her by the hand to our bedroom, shedding our clothes as we went.

I could kiss her then, as her breasts push up against me, taut nipples rubbing against my chest. Picking her up I'd lead her to the bed, and softly lay her down, her wild curls spilling across the pillows of our bed, a gentle smile on her lips. Her smile would make my day perfect. I lower myself onto the mattress beside her, gently caressing her abdomen. Time means nothing in my dreams, and we could spend forever in my fantasy, languidly stroking one another, taking our time before consummating our mutual desire.

I enter her, and our bodies come together in a tangle of limbs, her hands dragging trails across my back. I'll have scratches tomorrow morning, but I love that she marks me as hers. We move together as one before the slow pumping of our bodies ceases to be enough to satisfy us. My thrusts become wild, her hips arching to meet me, pushing me further within her warm center. My lips claim hers in a bruising kiss, as her climax hits her, her body clenching around me, as if to keep me there forever.

Her eyes go wild, and then vague as her orgasm claims her completely. Watching her sends me over the edge, into the depths of oblivion, and I spill myself within her welcoming depths, yelling her name to the walls of our bedchamber. I kiss her forehead as we both come down form the heights of our passion. I leave her body, and pull her against me, fitting her womanly curves against my body, as she kisses me once more, and we succumb to the realm of Morpheus.

I hardly sleep most nights that I dream this. I merely slumber enough to have this dream, before I rip myself from sleep. I could take a potion, I suppose to rid myself of these dreams, but at the present time, they are the only things that keep me going. I couldn't bear to medicate myself into a blank sleep. These dreams have become my drug, and I would go mad without them. I think I'm going mad anyway, this obsession I'm having with her, but what a way to go.

I'm no fool. I know that my dreams will never come true, that I am committed to endless nights of this beautiful torture. I am twenty years her senior. The age difference is negligible in the wizarding world, but I use it as a shield over my heart. I also know that to her, I'm nothing more than her former Potions Professor, who made seven years of her life hell, plaguing her and her friends.

She smiles at me when we pass in the corridors, when we sit down for meals, and when we're pushed together during staff meetings, but I know that the smiles are merely her way of being friendly, from one colleague to another. She'd stop smiling altogether if she knew how they affected me, and I couldn't bear that. She'll never see me in that light. I'm lucky if she thinks well of me at all. My unknowing angel, how I love you.