5. Afraid of Waking (PlaidPooka)

A/N: Big thanks to everyone who has been kind enough to review this round robin, Men With Brooms. The feedback has meant a lot to us, and I know all the writers so far have been grateful. Now it's my turn! I do hope you get a kick out of my chapter. I've never participated in a round robin before; it's quite a challenge. For any of you keeping track, NotSoSaintly is up next.

Thanks to Doomspark for being kind enough to beta this chapter for me. You are a gentleman and a scholar, Doomie!

Disclaimer: They are not mine; I just take them out to play.

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Chapter 5: Afraid of Waking

by PlaidPooka

Lying in bed, her eyes still closed, Hermione mused for a moment about why she had woken up smiling. Hmmm...well, it was Friday; that was always good for a smile. No classes in the afternoon so she could do as she pleased, read what she pleased, or study for her NEWTS. That is, if Harry and Ron would leave her to it. Smile fading to a slightly petulant frown at the thought, Hermione grumbled to herself about the annoying idiocy of teenage boys for a moment. The smile returned, wider than before. She remembered that she might have something more interesting to look forward to this afternoon; flying lessons! This thought made her giggle aloud. Hermione Granger, flightless witch, suddenly pleased about flying lessons. Yet she honestly was excited about continuing her lessons with Professor Snape.

Her smile faded once more, this time into a slightly puzzled expression as she considered the situation. It was no secret that she was embarrassed by her inability to fly and it was a relief to finally be taking some action to fix that. Professor Snape had been truly nice about the whole situation. Oh, he was still his snarky self, to be sure. Hermione rather thought the biggest reason he was helping her was to annoy Harry and Ron. Yet he had been undeniably kind, both when she had fallen from the Astronomy Tower and during the lesson last evening. Not to mention the fact that he had bought her that Quidditch ticket and planned to accompany her personally to the game tomorrow. For a normally disdainful and sarcastic man, he had truly been extraordinarily kind. The puzzled look became an amused grin. Honestly, if it had been one of the Gryffindor boys behaving this way, she would know all they wanted was...

In a flurry of sudden movement, Hermione opened her eyes wide in shock and sat straight up on the bed.

No! Surely not! He was a grown man, not some hormonal teenage boy! Despite her attempts to remain firmly in the realms of logic, Hermione could not stop her mind from finishing the thought it had begun. If it had been a Gryffindor boy who was suddenly treating her this way, Hermione would know that all they wanted was to get into her knickers. With a slightly mortified groan, Hermione closed her eyes and flopped back down on the bed, her thoughts once again swirling.

Trying to stay rational about the situation, Hermione determined to attack the quandary with all the logic at her disposal. The moment she tried, she found herself immediately distracted by how she had felt last night on the Quidditch pitch when she had pressed back against Professor Snape to avoid the rampant snitch. His body had felt hard and lean as she pressed against it. She'd felt the heat of it even through his robes. Recalling her own body's tingling and excited response to his sudden nearness, Hermione was rather shocked to feel that same wave of uncertain desire sweep through her again. Apparently--she thought with a snort-- if Professor Snape did indeed have designs on her knickers, her body was already applauding his intent. Yet was that idea plausible in the least? Severus Snape was an odd man and difficult to understand.

When Voldemort had at last been beaten, Hermione had thought that Professor Snape would have more reason to celebrate than most. Instead, she had watched in growing horror as he had slipped into despair. Unkempt, skeletally thin, and barely going through the motions of living, Snape had seemed like a man simply waiting to die. Watching the empty look in his black eyes--eyes that had once been filled with life and intelligence--had nearly broken Hermione's heart. Frustrated by her helplessness in such a situation, Hermione had channeled her worry into a project. She spent countless evenings knitting him a scarf in silver and green stripes; a scarf that Professor Snape had taken from her hands with a sneer and never --to her knowledge--actually worn. Well, there you have it, she thought with an amused smile. If Professor Snape had any designs on her knickers, he would have worn the scarf she had given him; she was being foolish to even consider such a thing.

The amused smile faded from her face as she realized how inexplicably disappointed she was by that realization. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione dragged herself out of bed and prepared for the day.

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Severus Snape awoke with a slight smile on his face. It immediately turned into a puzzled scowl. What in the nine circles of hell was he smiling like an imbecile about? Hmm...ah, yes...he'd been dreaming. In his dream he'd been flying; soaring and swooping over the school. He'd been laughing again with the simple joy of rediscovering the pleasure of flying. It both surprised and pleased Severus that he was still able, after all his dark years of spying, to take simple joy in anything.

Having spent so many years merely existing and trying to be of some use, Severus had been at a complete loss when the war ended and his usefulness was over. Yes, he had been aware that he was free, but what the hell was he supposed to do with the endless hours of that freedom? The hours had stretched on and on, in never-ending, empty torment. Amazed that he survived the final battle at all, Severus had then come to the despairing conclusion that he no longer knew how to live. Perhaps there was more to life than merely being of use. For the first time since Voldemort's demise, Severus was beginning to feel that simply enjoying being alive might not be beyond him after all. If he could rediscover his joy of flying, what other joys might once again be his?

More of his dream came back to him. Severus had not been the only flier. As his dream self had swooped and laughed, a young witch had raced about him, her wild hair flying out behind her. Her laugh had echoed his and the moonlight had made her eyes sparkle with mischief. In fact, her face thus caught in the moonlight had been altogether lovely...

Sitting straight up in his bed, his eyes going a bit wide in shock, Severus growled aloud, "That's a preposterous notion!"

But was it?

Severus Snape flopped back down on the bed considering. After a time, a calculating glint appeared in his eyes and the tiny smile he had awakened with crept back upon his face.

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Hermione's final class on Friday morning was Potions. When Professor Snape asked her to remain behind after class, Hermione assumed he would tell her when to meet him for their lesson that afternoon. She was to be disappointed.

"Miss Granger, I know we had planned to have another flying lesson this afternoon," Severus began, "but I shall have to postpone it. Perhaps we can meet later this evening if I have time...I will endeavor to get word to you once I know for certain."

"May I ask why, sir?" she began hesitantly. "I don't mean to pry into your affairs, Professor," Hermione hastily added when he scowled coldly at her, "I only meant...well...is everything all right, sir?"

Severus had indeed assumed that his brash young student was being a Nosey Parker. Her heartfelt inquiry combined with the obvious worry on her face made him suddenly realize that she was honestly concerned--and on his behalf. His scowl softened as his eyebrows rose in surprise at that realization.

"Nothing is amiss, Miss Granger; I am quite well." His eyebrows rose again as he noted the obvious relief cross her features. Pausing a moment to consider the situation, he decided to elaborate. "I'm afraid that Peeves had made a nuisance of himself again. I don't understand why the Headmaster doesn't have the annoying beast banished."

"What has he done this time, sir?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"He's been wreaking havoc in Madame Pomfrey's stores. She managed to salvage most of them, but he's completely ruined the burn paste and the Dreamless Sleep. Pomfrey asked me to brew the replacements."

"I don't suppose..." Hermione's soft voice trailed off as a blush crept over her face.

"Speak up, Miss Granger. I haven't got all day, especially if you wish us to ever manage a flying lesson."

"Well, I only wanted to tell you, sir, that I would be happy to help, if I could be of any assistance?" The look she gave her stern Professor was full of both hope and trepidation. Severus studied her intently before he made a brusque reply.

"That would be acceptable. You may meet me here after lunch. Do attempt not to dawdle." With a wave of dismissal, Professor Snape retuned to his papers as Hermione fled the classroom, her face graced with a happy smile.

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The brewing went well. In spite of Severus' doubt, Hermione had shown up promptly after the noon meal. Indeed, the young witch had been so enthusiastic that she had nearly beaten her Professor to the classroom. Setting Hermione to brewing the burn paste on her own, Severus took on the more difficult task of the Dreamless Sleep. At first, they worked in awkward silence. As the work progressed and both became occupied with the task at hand, the silence seemed oddly companionable.

Taking advantage of his student's preoccupation, Severus studied Hermione intently as she worked. He was unsurprised to see that Miss Granger was competent as well as confident. What surprised Severus was the obvious pleasure she took in brewing the simple healing paste. She moved with unconscious grace, hummed softly to herself while preparing the ingredients, and gave the potion in her cauldron a happy smile each time it changed color to show it was progressing correctly. Had he ever taken such joy in the art?

Knowing that he had been just as enchanted with potion making when he was her age, Severus now found that it was more like remembering a dream than an actual memory from his life. That part of who he had once been seemed vague, misty, incredibly far away from the bitter man he had become. Yet watching the young woman show such pleasure in so simple a task lit a spark in his very soul. Perhaps that young man who had seen the beauty and grace in the precision of potion making was not as dead as Severus had thought. Somehow Hermione's enthusiasm for the task was resurrecting his own long lost love of the work. Perhaps joy of the work was not the only thing the young Gryffindor was awakening in him.

As both potions entered a period of simmering, Severus conjured both tea and a spare chair and bade Miss Granger to sit at his desk. After Hermione had politely poured for them both, he decided to find out more about her distrust of flying.

"It seems to me, Miss Granger, that I might better be able to tailor your lessons to fit you if I knew more about why you distrust flying," he began. "Tell me, has there never been any time where you felt secure when airborne?"

"Well, I rather enjoyed flying on a hippogriff..." Hermione broke off in sudden embarrassment as she realized that her Professor might not like being reminded exactly why she had been flying on a hippogriff.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, girl, stop your trembling," Professor Snape groused. "I've been aware of the truth of that situation for some time; I assure you that the mention of it is of no dire consequence." This he said in such a dry tone that Hermione could not quite hide an amused smile. When her smile caused him to do nothing more dreadful than roll his eyes at her, Hermione continued.

"Flying on a hippogriff was rather exciting, actually. I felt quite safe. A hippogriff seems so much more...substantial than a rickety old broom."

"I see," Severus began and then paused to consider what she had told him. "It seems to me that you have no particular fear of flying per say, you simply distrust brooms in general."

"Well...yes, I suppose that's true. I mean, a broom is something you sweep the kitchen with, not something you fly on..."

"I believe, Miss Granger, that your Muggle upbringing is working against you. It's little wonder you distrust flying brooms if you see them as kitchen implements." Severus said with an amused smirk. "If that is the case, getting over your fear may be easier than I thought. We simply have to show you flying brooms in a different light."

"How will you do that?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"Leave that to me, Miss Granger. In the meantime, I believe your burn paste is awaiting the next ingredient." With that dismissal, they both returned to their work. The brewing concluded without further incident and they finished before dinner. Professor Snape waved her off to the Great Hall with instructions to meet him at the Quidditch pitch when the dinner hour had ended.

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Finishing her meal in record time, Hermione hurried to her room to change before her flying lesson. She'd seen other witches fly while wearing robes and skirts, but she knew she'd be far more comfortable in her Muggle jeans and jumper. The sun had barely set when Hermione made her way out to the pitch. There she found Professor Snape, leaning nonchalantly against a goalpost with a single broom at his feet. It seemed that she had changed in vain; Professor Snape hadn't even brought her a broom. Perhaps he meant for this lesson to be a demonstration only. It surprised Hermione that she felt disappointed rather than relieved at the thought that she wouldn't fly this night. Luckily for Hermione, she was quite wrong about the matter.

"I thank you, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, "for having the foresight to don proper apparel. While your school uniform skirt is rather...attractive, it is hardly a sensible garment to fly in."

Was she hearing things? Had her Professor just told her that he thought her skirt... Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts. She must have misheard him; it was the only logical explanation. "Er...good evening, Professor. Will I be flying tonight?"

"How will we get you to see brooms in a different light if we don't get you up on one?" Severus asked with an amused smirk.

"But sir, you have only brought your own broom..."

"Miss Granger, while I do think you need to get a broom between your legs in order to learn to trust and appreciate flying one, I hardly think that--with your present skills--a solo flight would be suitable to the purpose." Here Severus paused. Taking a step closer to Hermione, Severus regarded her intently for a moment before continuing. "Tonight...you ride with me."

Hermione found herself almost mesmerized by his black eyes and smooth voice. Having been used to hearing his voice either snapping orders in class or dripping with disdain, Hermione was completely gobsmacked at its present tones. It was infinitely crafty, that voice...sneaking gently into her ear only to shiver down her spine and pool warmly at her... Good gods! She was supposed to be here for a flying lesson and all she could do was stand blinking at the man who was trying to teach her. Professor Snape would not be amused to find he had a complete and utterly distracted...not to mention hormonal...teenager on his hands. Sputtering a bit, Hermione found her voice. "I...I should like that, sir."

"Indeed," he murmured. Breaking eye contact with Hermione at last, Severus summoned the broom to his hand and mounted it. "Mount before me, Miss Granger," he instructed, "and place your hands below mine."

Slipping onto the broom in front of her Professor, Hermione's distraction proceeded apace. Professor Snape's chest was molded to her back; his arms were tight around her as he gripped the broom handle in front of her. Hermione felt completely secure, completely safe, and completely like throwing her professor to the ground and doing her best to snog his lights out. Hermione made a desperate attempt to keep her mind on the task at hand. It failed miserably as Severus dipped his head down to murmur directly into her ear.

"Tonight is not about thinking, Miss Granger," he purred, "it is about feeling. That's not a piece of Muggle wood you have under your hands...clenched between your legs...it is freedom...it is joy...it is...magic. Can you feel it, Hermione? The magic thrumming between your thighs?"

"Yes," Hermione managed to mutter.

"Then it's time for us to fly," he murmured as he kicked up off the ground.

As Severus started them on a gentle flight over the Quidditch pitch and out over the lake, Hermione could not help but be enchanted. She felt completely safe while enclosed in his arms. When she could manage to drag her attention away from the delicious press of his body against hers, she began to understand why he compared flying to freedom.

"Faster?" he asked.

"Yes...oh yes! Faster! Faster!" she shouted into the wind, breathless in her excitement.

Encouraged by her enthusiasm, and a bit distracted by her breathless voice, Severus pushed the broom to greater speed. When a small dive only made the young woman in his arms laugh in delight, Severus flew more and more recklessly. As they flew, his low, rich laugh joined Hermione's. It was so like his dream that Severus had more and more difficulty concentrating on his flying. He could only hope that Miss Granger didn't notice that the hardness pressed intimately against her bottom was not solely from the broom.

Eventually all joys must end. Flying the broom up to the Astronomy Tower, Severus lightly touched down and helped Hermione dismount. Standing close to her, he noted the wildness of her hair, the flushed excitement on her face, and the way her eyes sparkled in the light of the moon. The young witch was altogether enchanting. Perhaps there were indeed other joys Hermione could help him rediscover.

"Thank you, sir!" Hermione said, still breathless. "That was unbelievable. I can certainly see why you enjoy it so."

"It did seem especially enjoyable tonight. Perhaps it was...the moonlight. I will leave you here, Miss Granger. Gryffindor Tower is not far. I trust you can make it there without incident?"

"Yes, sir. I shall be fine." Hermione replied.

"Then I will bid you good evening, Miss Granger. We meet on the pitch at eleven o'clock tomorrow for the game in Hogsmeade. Please do attempt not to be late." With that said, Professor Snape re-mounted the broom and soon disappeared into the night leaving a very distracted and confused young witch in his wake.

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The next morning found Hermione hurrying to the Quidditch pitch to meet her Professor. When she saw him waiting for her she almost stumbled in surprise. Professor Snape was wearing the scarf she had made him!

"Oh my..." she murmured to herself as she walked up to join him.

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So Far Away by Staind

This is my life

It's not what it was before

All these feelings I've shared

And these are my dreams

That I'd never lived before

Somebody shake me

Cause I, I must be sleeping

(chorus)

Now that we're here,

It's so far away

All the struggle we thought was in vain

All the mistakes,

One life contained

They all finally start to go away

Now that we're here it's so far away

And I feel like I can face the day

I can forgive and I'm not ashamed to be the person that I am today

These are my words

That I've never said before

I think I'm doing ok

And this is the smile

That I've never shown before

Somebody shake me

Cause I, I must be sleeping

(chorus)

I'm so afraid of waking

Please don't shake me

Afraid of waking

Please don't shake me

(chorus)