3. Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings

A/N: The picture found in this chapter was created by Perselus. I am extremely flattered that the words I put on this page inspired such a work of art. Thank you, Perselus!

Chapter 3: Feelings... Nothing More Than Feelings

The classroom was finally empty, the last class having finished over an hour before. Professor Snape sat behind the desk at the front of the room, his heavy teaching robes draped over the back of the chair, frock coat tossed unceremoniously on top. He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his stiff white shirt, rolled the sleeves above his elbows, and let his head drop heavily into his hands. It was Friday. He had been living for this day all week. In fact, if it weren't for Friday afternoons, and let's not forget Saturdays and Sundays, he almost certainly would have put himself out of his misery a long time ago.

Misery. Gods, what an existence. Teaching year after bloody year of mindless children either who didn't want to learn or who were too stupid to learn. Not to mention, we send them out into the world to propagate and populate the wizarding community with little replica dunderheads. What a service we are doing for our community, he thought bitterly.

He had almost given up hope...okay, he had already lost it...when seven years ago, after giving a fresh bunch of first-years his customary speech, a little know-it-all had stuck her hand up in the air, waving it frantically, practically bursting with the right answer. Seven years later, she had mellowed quite a bit...for which he was extremely thankful because, although her interest had been refreshing, it had become rather annoying after a while...but she still exuded an intense desire to soak up knowledge about anything and everything.

Could he help it if he found that intriguing ... even, dare he think it, sexy? And then...oh, good gods...the way she looked when she got off the Hogwarts Express this year after summer break. She had miraculously transfigured into a woman with curves in all the right places. He groaned at his nearly obsessive desire for this girl. She was bright and beautiful and she had his attention...in more ways than one.

He pressed a hand down hard on the heavy bulge that had plagued him all day. Every time he thought of her, it was the same. He was worse than the hormone-crazed teenage boys that flooded his classroom every day. He had to do something about this obsession before he lost his mind.

"Oh, yes. I almost forgot, I am losing my mind," he muttered to himself.

After Hermione's little show that morning, he had realized what had been happening. He had noticed that she seemed a little tired and distant these last couple of weeks, and now he knew why. Her dreams were keeping her awake...just like his had been. Moreover, he knew exactly what those dreams had been because he had been having them too. He just hadn't realized they had been affecting her until Dream-Hermione had walked into his classroom today.

She's probably afraid to go to sleep, disgusted at the thought of her Potions professor touching her, he thought morosely. But she didn't look too repulsed by the idea that morning, did she? His head rose, slightly encouraged, and he strode toward his office to freshen up for dinner.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione walked into the Great Hall for dinner that night and absentmindedly sat next to her two best friends. Dinner was half over already, so she grabbed what she could here and there and took a long draught of pumpkin juice. She paused when she felt two pairs of eyes attempting to burn holes into her head.

"All right there, Hermione?" Harry grinned at her. "Where've you been? We were searching for our gorgeous Gryffindor goddess all afternoon."

"Well, you can't have been searching too hard, then, because I was in the library doing some research," she answered around a mouthful.

"Aw, come on. Can't you give it a break?" whinged Ron. "You're making the rest of us look bad. It's Friday and it's a Hogsmeade weekend and..."

"That's what I needed to talk to you about," Hermione interrupted, swallowing her mouthful whole. "I'm not going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I need to stay and get some ... studying done."

Harry and Ron descended on her like a couple of squabbling hawks. Quite used to it after seven years, she turned back to her dinner and continued eating, barely listening to the boys berating her for being "no fun" and "all work and no play makes a dull Hermione" and all that. They would never change. They probably weren't going to be too happy with her later when she went back to the library either, she supposed. She sighed and chewed her food, letting her eyes wander the hall while the boys bickered and bantered in the background.

Her eyes met Snape's almost instantly. Something pulled in her gut, and her heart flip-flopped like a fish out of water. His long fingers curled around a mug, and he was languidly sipping its contents as he watched her.

She told herself to look away, but she really didn't want to. She was tingling from head to toe with the electricity of desire, almost as though she were being physically drawn to him. Feeling bold, she sent him a small smile and was a little surprised when his eyebrows raised a fraction in response. She couldn't help but imagine what it would be like if she walked right up to him, straddled his lap, tangled her fingers in his silky black hair, and devoured him. Bugger the fact that they were in the Great Hall. Who cares what anyone else thought?

Her reverie was shattered when Snape suddenly sat straight up and almost dropped his cup. She fixed her gaze quickly on her plate. Her pulse throbbed painfully in her throat as she realized that he had actually seen the images that had been playing in her mind, images of her snogging him in front of the entire school. Mmm... she thought. Time to get back to the library.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was nearly midnight, but she figured she knew as much about Legilimency as she possibly could without having practical experience. She had deduced that Professor Snape was an extraordinarily strong Legilimens. The fact that he didn't need to use a wand to initiate entry into her mind at dinner had proven that. She also deduced from his reaction in class earlier that day that they seemed to be sharing dreams, and he had not been aware of it.

He probably thought he was the only one having these dreams ... at least, until I dressed the part, she thought.

According to The Omnipotent Occlumens and The Labyrinth of Legilimency, dreams could be initiated by a Legilimens. He would have control over everything, which was why she could not change the course of the dream. However, her responses would still be her own, so she could say and do anything she liked if she was lucid enough to do so. She was still confused, though, over the fact that he did not seem to know this had been happening.

Oh well, she thought. There's only one thing left to do. She sighed, rubbed her eyes, and went back to her dorm to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Why the bloody hell is he so obsessed with a few missing pieces of Boomslang skin, anyway? She sulked as she walked the halls of her dream down to the dungeon yet again. I mean, it was for a good cause. Sometimes you have to bend the rules a little for the greater good.

She was still half-muttering to herself as she pushed open the door to the Potions classroom. As soon as she closed the door and turned around, however, every last thought faded away like one of the castle ghosts and she was struck speechless.

He had been waiting for her. There he stood, leaning against the desk closest to the door, arms folded, and staring at the floor. Mostly, his informal attire took her attention; it differed drastically from all the dreams that came before.

Instead of the form-fitting trousers and frock coat,he wore black silk pyjama bottoms that tied at the waist and billowed down to his bare feet. His white shirt hung open, revealing a well-defined, broad chest. She tried to discern his expression, but his face was partially obscured by a lock of hair that cascaded down his jaw line, accentuating the paleness of his face. He had the demeanor of a fallen angel. My angel, she thought as she gazed longingly at sex personified.

After what felt like ages, he lifted his head and stared back at her, his face impassive. Still, a mixture of desire and melancholy and a whole slew of unfamiliar emotions were warring in his eyes. It was such a far cry from his usual manner that it frightened her a little.

"This is not really a dream, is it, Professor?" she asked gently, slowly approaching him.

He shook his head but no words followed. She closed the space between them and placed her hand on his arm, looking up into his eyes.

"But I'm asleep, and I think you are as well. So how is this happening?" She kept her voice neutral even though inside she was quaking like a leaf. "Is there something wrong, something I can help with?"

He stood up abruptly with a deep sigh, removing himself from her touch.

"Help? I should have expected that you would have wanted to help," he spat. "I am not going to be your next charity case, Miss Granger."

He turned his back to her but did not walk away. He just stood there dejectedly. Her heart smoldered with uncertainty. She burned to heal whatever had made him throw up his defenses. However, she couldn't help but notice...to her great chagrin...that even a dejected Snape was a sexy Snape.

Suddenly, she felt like crying, not from the bite in his voice...that she was used to...but because she actually felt what he was feeling. She felt his longing and desire fueled by a desperation she had never before experienced. Simmering underneath, however, she felt his self-incrimination and self-loathing. To top it all off, she felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and fear of being rejected. She couldn't stand it anymore.

"Don't think like this," she whispered as she wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, resting her head on his back. "I can feel what you're feeling. If I'm right, you can feel what I'm feeling, too."

She felt the low murmur of agreement as it vibrated through his body. Forcibly, she turned him around to face her. The glassy black of his eyes reflected like mirrors. She saw herself in him. All she wanted to do was give herself to him. She reached up and pulled him down for a tentative kiss...the first kiss they knowingly shared.

It was like fire spontaneously combusted through every vein in her body. His lips ignited her desire, and they devoured her urgently as though he needed to get as much as he could before she disappeared. He seized her bottom lip with his teeth, and then kissed the harshness away. His tongue darted between her lips, insinuated itself as her jaw relaxed amidst his kisses, and slowly twined with her own until their combined desire made it into something more. He was rough and unyielding, but caring and soothing at the same time. His kisses burned, and his tongue was the balm that soothed. Never, ever did she want this to end. She wanted only what a man could give her, what her Potions master could give her.

He held onto her face with both hands, leaning into her body, placing more kisses down her neck and nipping at the sensitive areas relentlessly. The sensuality of his full length against her, his hardness pressing into her stomach, his pulse throbbing through layers of clothing was almost too much to bear. How she ached to touch him, to take him into her mouth and make him feel everything she felt for him. A growl escaped from somewhere deep in his throat as he felt what she envisioned doing to him.

She hissed her encouragement, though words were completely unnecessary. "More. Oh, gods, more," she whimpered while he nibbled on her earlobe and then ran his tongue whisper-light around the edge, making her whole body shiver. She held him to her tightly, trapping him in her embrace. There was no way she was going to let go of this man. She had never wanted anything so desperately in her life...except maybe for a perfect score on her NEWTs.

"Hermione," his passion-drugged voice hummed in her ear. "Hermione, I need you. I want you. I have never felt anything like this. I know you couldn't possibly want..."

"Hush." She stopped him with a single finger over his lips.

She brushed the hair away from his face, tucking it lovingly behind his ear. "I want this, too. No, don't say another word," she counteracted as he tried to argue. "I've already had all the necessary arguments with myself. I have already thought this all the way through."

He chuckled at this admission. "I should have thought that you would. I would expect nothing less from you."

"But I don't want to do this here, in this dream world. If we are going to do this, I want it to be real." She laughed a little, massaging her backside. "Well, you know what I mean."

She felt his heart soar, felt the loneliness drain away with his newfound hope.

"Fine, my little know-it-all," he purred as he bent to taste her lips one more time. "Fifteen minutes. Use the common room fireplace to Floo to my private rooms. Say 'Professor Snape's private quarters.' I'll be waiting. Do not be late. Now, wake up."

She awoke with a jolt.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Quickly, she changed into a silk, pearl-white, ankle-length nightdress that hugged the curves that had blossomed over the summer. It showed enough without giving too much away, which was why she had chosen it. She finished her outfit with the matching dressing gown and brocaded slippers. It was sexy while being perfectly practical to be seen in around the dormitory or common room if need be. Finally, she stood before the fireplace with five minutes to spare, trying to calm her breathing. Her heart thundered within her chest, more out of nerves than the speed with which she had dressed.

Being a girl of impeccable common sense, she had also bundled up a change of clothes and her toothbrush and shrunk them to fit in her pocket. She didn't want to look suspicious when she returned, whenever that would be. She took one last, long, deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm her nerves.

How long had she wanted this? Certainly, it had been a dream that had flirted around her mind all this year and perhaps even most of last, if she was going to be completely honest with herself. At first, she truly thought those explicit dreams had been of her own creation. Now, she was about to step foot in the private rooms of Severus Snape. She almost squealed in anticipation. This was really happening. She couldn't believe it.

With one last look around the common room, she took a handful of Floo powder from the mantle, tossed it into the flame, stepped inside and said, "Professor Snape's private quarters."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Hermione disappeared, two heads popped up from the back of the sofa in the far corner, one unruly dark one and one somewhat messy red one.

"Did you just hear what I heard?" Ginny asked, her mouth stuck open in awe.

"Mm-hmm. But I'm sure she can take care of herself. Now get back down here and take care of me," Harry replied as he pulled Ginny back down on top of him.

~End Chapter Three~