Dreams and consequences

Disclaimer Notice:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

That having been said, read, enjoy, review a first time author!



The dream again, so familiar, yet so strange. I have had this dream often over the last two years. I don’t know exactly when they started, perhaps near the beginning of my sixth year. My name is Hermione Granger, I am a witch. I attend a Hogwarts, a school for witchcraft and wizardry. To say that I attend, perhaps I should clarify, I have attended. Tonight will be my last night in this wonderful old castle of a school.
How fitting that I would have this dream again, just before leaving here. After all, this dream hardly seems like a dream, but rather, a half remembered memory. How odd that I can think while I dream this dream. I can consciously feel the crisp sheets that cover me. My nightie has ridden up, and is bunched around my middle, but no matter, these distractions will not keep me from focusing on my dream. I focus my thoughts and will f to experience again the cold flagstones beneath my feet. I am walking down one of the many school corridors. I sense that it is late. Well past the time to happen across schoolmates in compromising situations, but not yet early enough for the house elves to be aboheirheir morning routine. I am striding down the corridor, my bare feet silent on the floor.
My body knows what is coming. It always knows. I find myself yet again descending the staircase to the lower levels of the ce. e. The air feels noticeably cooler on my skin. My hand rests on the banister as I look over my shoulder to ensure I haven’t been followed. I pause to adjust my clothes, I want everything to be perfect. My hands smooth away imaginary wrinkles in my flawless jade coloured shift, I realize in the cognizant part of my brain that it is the same one that covers me tonight. Perhaps I chose it unconssly.sly. The straps that run across my shoulders are delicate and have the tendency to droop. I bend over slightly to ensure that the garters supporting my hose are still hidden when I move. I am satisfied that all is as it should be. I run my hands through my hair, glad for once that it is so thick and healthy. It is laying is soft waves down my back, keeping my shoulders a little warmer than they otherwise would be.
I start walking down the darkened corridor. My nerve endings are tingling in anticipation. My hands are running up and down my arms to ward off the chill. I can feel my conscious mind trying to wake, yet I resist. I focus my resolve to finish the dream, to experience more than just arousal, as that has been the norm. I have still been walking, even as my mind battles for consciousness, my subconscious mind holds me enthralled. Without my noticing, I find myself walking down a corridor that, for all its’ familiarity, I have never found while awake. I find myself stopped in front of a tapestry. Indeed, the same tapestry that haunts my waking hours, as I have yet to find it within the castle. This work of art, I absently notice, is the most breath-taking work of weaving that I have ever seen. Done in dark colours, The castle is depicted on a night of a full moon. The silver contrasts bring light into the wall hanging, illuminating the beauty of this school that I dearly love. I see myself take a deap breath, and I prepare myself for waking, as this is the usual course, but to my surprise, I hear a password cross my lips. I am not sure what word, as it already fades into memory. Excitement courses through me, I have never dreamed this far- I try to relax as I feel the arousal building in my body. I ache for the touch of my lover, I always have, yet still I know not who in my subconscious arouses me to dream so erotically. I can feel heat rushing through my body, warming me against the chill of the lower levels. The tapestry moves aside to reveal a passage. My hands that had be traveling the paths of my arms have moved on th caress my breasts. I can feel them swelling slightly, tight and aching, my nipples contract into tight pebbles. My breathing becomes shallow as I feel the sensations trail fire along my nerves, settling deep within me. I hope that this dream will continue. My body is aching for the caress of my dream lover, for that is surely where my dreams have taken me. I reach the end of the passage. My hands reach for the door knob and I turn it. I feel myself place my other hand on the door pushing it quietly. The door starts to open slowly, my breasts leaning on the door as I try to silently open it. A loud creaking sound the door makes. It frightens me, and I wake up.
The loud creaking was my bedsprings. How ironic, I grumbled to myself. I knew it would be useless to try and recapture the dream. Usually when I have this dream and wake, I touch myself, and offer my body the release it craves so much. This time, however, I roll over and punch my pillow, much to the surprise of my feline companion, Crookshanks. He opens his eyes and stares balefully at me for daring to disturb his rest. Picking up his body, he lazily jumps to the floor to stalk off stiffly, letting me know of his displeasure. That cat, so ornery, so graceful often times reminded me of professor Snape, but that didn’t stop me from loving my cranky cat any less.
My body is still humminth uth unreleased sexual tension. Merlin how frustrating, I had hoped to reach the natural conclusion of my dream--orgasm, so elusive for me to reach. I push my heavy hair away from my face and straighten it automatically with my fingers. I slide out of the crisp sheets and grab the matching robe to my nightdress. I look at my clock, and I see that it is 3:00 in the morning. I sigh, slip my wand into my pocket, my feet into the warmest slippers I own, and head for the kitchens. Maybe I could get a cup of chamomile tea to calm me. I climb through the portrait hole. I turn to see that the fat lady is off visiting, and her frame is empty, I absently realize that I may have a wait when I return to the tower. Turning in the direction of the kitchens, my feet start off in the general direction, and my mind wanders over the details of this dream before they escape me completely. I vaguely recall the new details in this dream, yet they slip away, like water through the fingers. I am sure that there was a tapestry featured in this dream, unlike any other, the details crisp, almost as though my mind had taken a photograph. Feeling as though someone is watching me. I look around. It is not common for anyone to be up at this time of night. Seeing nothing unusual, I continue onto the kitchens. Glad that the caretaker is not seeing me out and about my last night of school, I pull my robe closer about me. I don’nt tnt to get into trouble my last night here. Turning back, I notice a corridor that has never been here before, and the details of my dream return, I am sure this corridor is the correct one from my dream.
Well, I wasn’t sorted into gryffindor for cowardice, allowing my curiosity to get the better of me, I start down this new corridor, my tea forgotten. I realize this is the corridor of my dreams. The excitement that lay within me surges, and I foolishly hurry to meet what I feel is awaiting me.
I am almost running down the corridor, my feet silent in my slippers, I come to a sudden halt as I see the tapestry in my dreams. Pausing to take huge gulps of air I grab my wand, aim it at the tapestry and say the password. How I knew the password, I am unsure, even now, I hardly recall it. As in my dream the tapestry moved aside to reveal another passage.
This passage is cooler than the corridor, and I pause. Reality starts demanding attention. I realize I am out, in the middle of the night, on my last day ever at school, in an unknown corridor, following the prompting of my pent up arousal. Odds are, I reason, that I will be greatly embarrassed should I be discovered. Just as I was deciding to turn back I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.
“Any one here, my sweet?” I heard the cold tones of the Caretaker. He sounded close. Deciding discretion being the better part of valor, I decide to put as much distance between he and myself as possible. I sprinted down the long passage finally reaching the door. Hearing Filch at the entrance of the passage, the decision of where to go is taken from me, the only place left is through the door.. Without pausing, I quietly open it, slip inside the relative safety of it’s darkness, and shut it quietly behind me, feeling foolish, I dared not move. I could hear Argus coming towards me, I was sure he knew where I had gone, as he seemed to have a sixth sense where students and rule breaking were concerned. I muttered quietly to my wand “Lumos”. The tip lit like a torch, and I made my way into the room. I could see the back of a long couch, and as I heard Filch just outside the door, I dived over it expecting to land on the soft cushions on the other side. The sound was lost to the creaking sound of the door opening.
It would have been the perfect hiding place, except, instead of landing on the cushions of the couch, I landed on a person. The person felt me land on them, and before I could think, I found myself pinned underneath someone. My hair wildly in disarray, I hope I can still come away from this with some dignity intact. As the door opens, I see the face of the one who is pinning me, it is none other than Snape. I feel my dreams of graduation go down the drain. Shock overcomes me when I hear him speak. What, no comments about the intruder? I listen intently, realization dawns on me that he is also in a compromising situation, terror fills my heart, that last thing I want is a former death eater pissed off because of me. He tilts his head, and to my amazement I recognize that a consummate actor he must be, fad Iad I not known he was pretending, the look of love, and lust he was aiming at me was making me slightly giddy. I was near hysteria when he lowered his head towards mine, his thin lips so near my ear that I should ignore the interruption, and continue. Taking his cue, I wrapped one slim arm around his neck and pulled him down completely on top of me, my heart beating madly, whether due to his proximity, or the near catastrophe that Snape was averting with Filch, I am unsure. Brazenly, I look into his eyes, deciding, for a moment, that, in for a penny, I may as well be in for a pound. I raise my head to meet his lips, I don’t kiss that well as I haven’t had much practice. However, my inexperience was adequate to steal my breath away. He tastes like coffee, strong and dark, slightly acidic. He returned my kiss with apparent passion, turning my insides to jelly. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was an act, but stop myself from responding, thas sas simply impossible. I felt my breasts, pressed tightly against his chest, tighten. My nipples hardened, and I am embarrassedly sure he can feel my response to his kiss. Filch, abashed avingving seen a professor, in the act, so to speak, and that he was obviously interrupting, quietly backed out of the room, hurriedly pulling the door shut behind him.