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The Fantasy Book	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 44517 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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A/N: thanks for the reviews!

She was thankful to be proficient with wandless magic and thus found great ease in summoning herself a glass of water. Reading through and recollecting the fantasy had left her throat feeling dry. Still he slumbered against her chest, though she hadn’t expected him to spring awake immediately. Her research had led her to believe that it could take as little as a few hours or months. And it had only been proven to work in a handful of cases. Most witches and wizards could not bear the thought of their loved ones living in a comatose state and often did not opt to sustain them. Whatever had motivated the former headmaster to keep Severus Snape alive she had been grateful.

            His breathing was slow, the rise and fall of his torso against her chest made her sigh. She wasn’t sure when he had transitioned from the surly potions master with a foul temper to the man who ruled her fantasies, but Hermione knew that she very much wished for him to live. Her fingers stroked through his hair again, something she had longed to do for quite some time. It was exciting but she imagined it would be more so if he had been conscious and aware. Though the likelihood of him allowing her to touch him in such an intimate manner was very low.

            Her lips lowered gently to the top of his head and she pulled the tome up in her lap once more. “They say persistence is the key…” with a determined breath she flipped the page of the magical book and began to read.

~*~

            She had been at it for hours. Hermione’s body was beginning to ache with the tension of having kept at it since classes had ended. The room of requirement had been all too eager to reveal itself when she had found herself pacing the corridors between Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and the library trying to find a suitable practice space. It had been enormous before; once during her fifth year when they had needed the space for clandestine meetings of Dumbledore’s Army, but she had never seen the room stretch to accommodate a full size ballroom before.

            It was a foolish notion, thinking she could teach herself to dance. But she’d taken a few lessons over the summer at a muggle dance studio near her parents’ house and had loved the idea of it. But finding someone to practice with had been impossible. She’d mentioned it to Harry and he’d nearly burst into a fit of giggles until she growled at him. And if Harry hadn’t been one to take her seriously there was no way she was going to discuss the matter with Ron.

            The spell had taken concentration, to conjure up an animated figure roughly the size and flexible body figure of a male partner. And it had held up through her first few hours, but as fatigue set in, the dance partner had begun to sag and it made spinning in her turns very difficult.

            Tango music filled the room cranking from an old phonograph that she had found in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. She could only imagine that it had belonged to Professor Lupin once upon a time. Hermione closed her eyes and pulled her squishy partner into the position. Her body was pressed against his, though she wasn’t really sure an animated quasi-human-shaped lump could be assigned a gender; and she made to step forward.

            He followed her moves, leading up and across the ballroom floor, and she twisted and turned, trying to dip herself over the wobbly arm. Hermione’s feet caught as she tried to spin into an embrace that would have been much tighter had her dance partner had muscles to control. She was getting frustrated. It had been so much fun learning with Claude, the lovely young gay boy in the dance class at the studio.

            The needle was grating on the record when she finally gave up. Her legs were tired and she wasn’t going to perfect any of the more complicated moves without an actual partner. She sighed. Why had she let Ginny convince her to sign up for the dance competition in Hogsmeade? It had sparked her interest but she never would have had the nerve to actually put her name down on the sheet. But Ginny had been begging her to do it and the notion was exciting, so she had scribbled on the sheet with a quill and was regretting her actions ever since.

            She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn’t until he was standing in front of her that she took note of him. “Oh!” she cried a fair bit surprised.

            “Do you always respond with silence when you are addressed, Miss Granger?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Severus Snape had heard the music coming from the walls in the corridor. While the room of requirement was excellent at providing things it was terrible at hiding things, and when one could stalk up the hallway and hear tango music playing from no point in particular amidst the bricks, he had been right to reveal the room.

            “No, sir,” she said. “I’m sorry, I must not have heard you.”

            “Indeed.” He said and allowed his glance to flicker to the phonograph in the corner of the room. “Music played on a stolen device tends to muddle one’s hearing…”

            Hermione gasped. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind when she’d stumbled upon the player. She had assumed it had been abandoned as there were no classes currently being taught in the room and no professor was currently in residence in the adjoining chambers. Her eyes were wide as they met his and she tried to read his face hoping to discern if she were in major go get the headmaster trouble or minor house point deduction trouble.

            His eyes betrayed nothing. To say that he hadn’t been intrigued by the display he’d witnessed upon entering the room would have been a lie. Her body moved quite nimbly and her sense of rhythm was keen. It was the makeshift doll she was using as a partner that kept throwing her technique to the pits. He refrained from his biting remark about known incidences of previous thievery and held her gaze.

            “I was not aware that Hogwarts provided dancing lessons,” he said after a long silence.

            Hermione didn’t know what to say. She could feel the blush creeping up in her cheeks and she did her best to force it down. She hadn’t done anything illegal, save for steal the phonograph and she really hadn’t meant to steal it. “I was just practicing, sir.”

            “Poorly,” he said nodding to her forgotten partner slumped over himself in a heap on the floor.

            This time she flushed and could not keep the colour from her cheeks. “I needed someone to practice with, sir.” She let her eyes droop to the floor.

            “And why would you not ask someone?” he asked. His tone was almost mocking.

            “I—” The question had caught her off guard. The whole situation was slightly odd. He wasn’t hissing house point deductions or shooting callous remarks with his sharp stinging sarcasm; Hermione didn’t know what to think. But she composed her thoughts long enough to answer his question. “I didn’t have anyone to ask.”

            “I find that hard to believe,” he said.

            “Who would I ask?” she blurted out without thinking. She hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory but after feeling humiliated in front of Harry and refusing to go through a similar experience with Ron, she had been frustrated with the prospect of having no one else to practice with. She was not particularly popular among the boys and didn’t imagine that Neville would make a terribly good dance partner as he was fairly clumsy.

            A slight smirk crept across his lips and Severus Snape tipped his hand forward. Hermione stared at him wide-eyed; frozen to her spot. But before she could comment or respond he had taken her hand and pulled her flush against his body. A tiny squeak escaped her lips as she found herself in a tense starting primer pose for a beginner’s tango dance routine.

            “Sir!” she said as he pushed her off his body. Confusion settled over her. One minute he had pulled her close as if he were prepared to dance with her and the next he’d thrust her away as if he’d thought better of it. Her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as she watched him shrug out of his thick black teaching robes.

            He was still dressed in all black but somehow what he wore beneath his robes was not at all what she had been expecting. It was a loose black shirt, something one might expect to find Zorro or one of the three Musketeers wearing, not at all something anyone would ever expect Severus Snape to own let alone wear. His trousers were slender down his leg, and they fit him well.

            Hermione felt as if someone had cast a full body petrify on her as he walked toward her. “If you’re going to dance the tango, Miss Granger, you need a proper partner and proper dress.” He gazed at her skirt for a moment, the standard Hogwarts uniform skirt and frowned. He knelt down in front of her and gripped the left side of her skirt with both hands. The fabric tore easily between his fingers and he ripped a split in the material clean up to her hip. She gasped as he tore an identical split on the other side of her skirt.

            “Your legs need the freedom to move,” he stated and then stood as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to have done. “Take off your blouse,” he said.

            The words echoed in her head. And she was debating on whether or not she had heard him correctly when his fingers began deftly flipping open the buttons of her shirt. Thankfully she donned a white tank top underneath, though it was rather form fitting and she felt very exposed.

            “Better,” he said and once again pulled her flush against his body. Without so much as a wave from his hand the needle on the phonograph had lifted of its own accord and floated over to the beginning of the record, skipping for a moment before beginning to play. The music was fast much faster than what she’d been practicing with but the beat surged through the room and she could feel it pulsating beneath her feet.

            “Tango is the dance of passion,” he said as he began to guide her across the floor. They stepped in time to the music and she was suddenly reminded of being back in the studio with Claude, though they had never been quite so physically close as she was to Severus Snape at the moment. “And if you don’t feel the passion, your dance will fail,” he said and thrust her back suddenly over his arm.

            Hermione hadn’t been expecting the dip and she cried out ever so slightly before being whipped up to her feet. His right thigh was pressed hard against her right thigh and she felt herself being arched back over his arm again, only this time his chest was leaning heavy against her as he allowed his lips to hover just over her ear. “Passion, Miss Granger…” he hissed.

            Twists and turns and quick steps while pressed closely together dominated the dance as the music played on. She stepped into the rhythm, matching the beat of the music and his movements. He spun left and she yanked back to the right, falling against him, arms wrapping around his body to glide herself easily around to his backside only to be tightly twirled around to the front again. Several more dips and twists had her panting, chest heaving, breaths coming in gasps. His breathing was heavy too, as he pulled her hard against his chest, thrust her back so that her hair touched the ground in an arc and then pulled her up and dipped her over his arm once more as the song ended.

            They were panting. Sweat dripped down her neck and she could feel her heart thudding in her chest. His eyes were hooded as he held her entire weight draped over one arm, balancing her close to his body. She could not touch the ground properly to pull herself up to standing. “Passion,” he growled and pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

            She shivered despite how hot she had become. Feeling his tongue against her flesh she moaned. Passion was certainly firing between them. Severus suckled at her flesh, kissing her skin as he dragged his lips up the hollow of her throat and around her jaw until he met her lips. Warm tongues dueled passionately against each other, fighting for the dominance of the other’s mouth.

            Hermione whimpered when he pulled away from the kiss, only to feel his hands under her shirt. Her body was bent almost completely backward, arching her chest forward into his touch. Rough thumbs circled her nipples while his hands squeezed her breasts and she yearned for more.

            But all his touches ceased as she found herself being dropped on the floor. She hadn’t even properly hit the tile before his arm was around her waist hoisting her up onto her knees. Her skirt offered little in way of hiding her arse from view as he crouched behind her and ran his hands over her backside. His touch was warm and she longed for more.

            “More…” she whimpered,” but did not have to wait long to feel exactly how passionate the dancing had made him. Her knickers were being tugged over her skin and the air rushed around her dripping sex. She half expected him to plow into her doggie style, and cried out in shock when he drew her back into his lap.

            Severus was sitting on his knees, erection jutting forth from between his legs. He’d managed to slide his trousers and silk boxers down whilst removing her knickers. With both hands pushing on the inside of her thighs he parted her legs and then scooted her back so that she straddled his lap on her knees, back facing him.

            Her head fell forward as he lifted her and sheathed himself inside of her. Hermione groaned. He was thick and full, filling her to an almost painful point. One hand firmly on her hip, Severus began to bounce her in his lap, pushing her up and down on his erection; his other hand squeezing and massaging her breast.

            She was sweating, panting and moaning, each stroke of his length into her causing another bubble of pleasure to release through her body. His lips were on her neck and he was savage, nipping and growling, licking at her flesh and then biting it, pinching her nipple as he bucked his hips up into her.

            Hermione’s body began to spasm, waves of pleasure shooting through her body; the multiple areas of stimulation had been too much. She shook and convulsed, her falling back against his shoulders as he continued to thrust up into her. He pumped harder as she writhed in ecstasy and then growled his own release as he came.

            Her body crumpled back against his and her chest pounded. Both arms wrapped around her chest as if trying to meld them into one at the points where their bodies touched. It felt like ages before her breathing slowed but the unspoken pleasurable silence between them made her smile.

            Droplets of sweat were cooling against her skin when she twirled around in his lap.

            “Passion, Miss Granger, if you’re to master that dance you need passion.”

            Again Hermione found herself trembling as she closed the book. That particular fantasy had been one of her favourites, and she could feel the damp pool in her knickers. But still she dared not touch herself with him resting against her chest.

            “That was a dancing fantasy,” she croaked, her voice broken from thoughts of wild sex with the man who rested in her arms.

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The Fantasy Book