That Thing About Me....

By: Dog of Glee

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Another chapter for any readers who might be out there!

Chapter Two: The Dream of Madness

So there I was, my head in my hands and my mind in shambles. I couldn't help but cry as though the world were ending. Because it truly felt like my world was ending. I let out another sob and leaned back against the stone railing, my bare toes curling against the cold, cobbled floor beneath me. My shoulders trembled and I shivered as a breeze swept through the night air, pushing stray strands of dark chocolate hair in front of my eyes. I had pulled its mass into a sloppy bun but it was so heavy, reaching my waistline, that it would never stay up. It was the only thing about me that had never changed. I could never bring myself to cut my hair. I had to do one thing to keep my mother happy, I supposed. Her hair was longer then mine, and she prided in both mine and her own.

With a heavy sigh I swiped at the tears still flooding my cheeks almost angrily and wrapped my arms around my middle. I could feel my anger rising. I hated the way my moods were so unpredictable. My nights were growing worse. Each night I got less and less sleep over the subject of my embaressment, and I worried more by day as I mingled among my friends. I was sure that they would notice that I was different then before. I was scared that they would realize what had changed me, so I stayed quiet. I avoided large amounts of socializing and kept to myself. It was a lot like isolation, even though I was constantly surrounded by people I loved and people that loved me.

I knew that they noticed the way I never lectured anymore, the way I never bossed them around or even offer to help them with their homework. I knew that they noticed the dark circles around my eyes and the way I always seemed tired. But none of them said anything. Harry had so much to worry about, with Voldemort and the Order. He seemed to be genuinely concerned for me though. Ron was more oblivious with his endless string of girlfriends and his constant obsession with quidditch. Everyone else left me alone, just as I wanted them to do. They seemed to realize that I didn't want to be around them. I would so much rather be alone, even if it was eating me alive. My mental state just... Wasn't stable.

With one last glance at the glowing full moon I left the balcony and wandered into the corridor, barely illuminated by a small torch mounted on the wall. My footsteps were inaudible as I padded my way along the length of the hall, my bare feet tapping slightly against the stone of the floor and my arms hugged close around me. It had become a habit of mine, wandering the halls during the ungodly hours of the night. To say the least it annoyed the fat lady, but I couldn't help myself as I explored the ancient building's depths by the light of the moon. I came to know the castle more than I ever had before. I could get to any place quicker then anyone else, for I knew every hall and passageway by heart. I was convinced that I knew more about the old place then even the Weasley twins had known in their Hogwarts days.

I had yet to be discovered by Filch on one of my nightly ventures, luckily enough. I couldn't even begin to imagine the trouble I would be in if I was discovered snooping about forbidden passageways in my pajamas. It was quite easy to avoid the grumpy old man and his cat when you could slip into any given hidden corridor. But on this night I did not even see the caretaker and I easily made my way back to the sleeping portrait of the fat lady. She was slightly disgruntled when I woke her, but she let me in on sight, not even bothering with the password. She knew me well enough by then to just let me in, though if a professor ever discovered her disregard she would be tossed immediately.

The fire had died down by then and as I fell back onto one of the many couches in the Gryffindor common room I gave an barely audible sigh. I was so tired, but much to troubled to sleep. Or at least I thought so, but I seemed to be proven wrong as I felt my eyelids droop. I didn't really want to sleep, but my body was shutting down on me. Too many nights without sleep had my body completely rebelling against my stubborn mind and heart. And so I fell asleep, my breaths evening and my eyes closing. It felt good to relax, but I couldn't rest, even in my sleep.

: : :

I could feel the tingle of warm breath against my neck and a feather light touch against the soft flesh of my upper arm. A firm body was pressed tightly against my back and my breathing was heavy, my face flushed red and my hands trembling. Small spirals of heat shot through my lower belly and I gasped aloud. My senses seemed to be multiplied, and each touch against my skin sent a jolt of pleasure through my entire being. Each soft hum of breath sounded like a mountain of happiness to my ears, listening as someone else felt the things I was feeling along side me. I wasn't alone in this new adventure of sinful joy.

A hand lay flat across my stomach. Long, pale fingers, slender and graceful with perfectly manicured fingernails and smooth, flawless skin. It was beautiful, and I could feel myself melting as the hand ignited yet another fire within me. Another set of fingers ran lovingly through the length of my hair, stopping to rest upoun my waist and caress the expanse of my hip through my gray pleated skirt. I shivered as the hand touched the bare skin of my thigh for one fleeting moment before making its way back up to rest on the soft curve of my waist.

My heart rate soared as two long, beautiful fingers grasped the bottom button of my white cotton blouse and gently slid it out of the fabric. I could hear my own moan as warm, supple lips pressed against the sensitive flesh just beneath my jaw. A soft nip against my earlobe and I gasped, my knees going weak and my eyes drifting closed. An inaudible murmur sounded against my neck, only succeeding in losing more of myself to the burning desire thrumming throughout my body. I could feel it pounding in my veins, the need for fulfillment, the need to quench an unthinkable thirst. I had yet to discover how to rid myself of this desire, and it had lingered now for so long that I couldn't help but be eager to discover the key to this mystery box.

And so I found myself reaching up to unbutton the shirt myself, letting it slide lithely to the floor and watching as it pooled upoun the carpet. I could hear the soft sound of a chuckle from behind me, but I didn't turn around as once again those arms wrapped around me, this time flaming against the bare skin of my abdomen. The lace of my crimson red bra rubbed provocatively against me own breast, causing me to moan once again. The sounds escaping my own mouth were a wonder to me in their own, for I had never made such noises before. I was in unknown territory with these new feelings, but I was being bold, for I liked them. I couldn't get enough of them.

It was true that I was innocent. Everyone knew it, that I was as unscarred, untainted as a new born baby. But the way that these beautiful hands made me react had my mind working in so many different ways. I didn't want to be innocent anymore. I wanted to have these feelings of fulfillment. I wanted to satisfy my desire. That was why I placed my hand across that of my mystery lover and guided it myself to the plump expanse of my breast, for it was also true that I was no longer a child, but a mature young woman, just beginning to unleash her most desirable assets. My breast fit perfectly in the hand, just filling the cupped palm. I let my head fall back and I looked at the ceiling, my mouth hanging open slightly as I felt those fingers start to move, kneading my flesh softly through the fabric of my undergarment.

The list of my new experiences was fast growing as all the heat within my body seemed to finally focus at one point, seemingly at the core of my being. Places I had never imagined to feel so incredible indeed felt like the most important parts of my body at that moment. And as the hand gently slipped beneath my bra I let out a moan to rival all others, my eyes drifting closed and my breath coming in sharp, erratic gasps. I was finally alive. But it wasn't over, I discovered as my bra fell to the floor to join my shirt. I felt strangely free as the cool air brushed against my erect nipples just as the fingers drew maddening circles around the soft pink buds. I felt like I was about to tip over the edge, but I just couldn't. I was stuck.

: : :

I could hear someone calling my name, an insistent monotone of, "Hermione. Hermione! Hermione!"

I could once again hear my own moan, though it was not one of pleasure, but one of annoyance, " Huh?" I replied to the disturbing voice, not opening my eyes for fear of loosing the blissful images of my dream.

" You bloody well better get up!" The voice told me in a demanding tone. I flipped over, turning away from the offensive sounds.

" Hermione Anne Granger you are going to be late for class!" It shouted again. I hardly cared, but gave a disgruntled sigh and sat up abruptly, blowing a long strand of hair away from my face and slowly opening my eyes.

" Finally! I need help with my homework!" Shouted an urgent looking Harry Potter, shoving a parchment with two words written on it into my hands.

I stared at it blankly, " Werewolfs our," I said aloud sleepily, " Harry, you really need to learn how to spell."

" I need help, Hermione!" He whined, ignoring my comment.

With a sigh I pushed my hair away from my face again and sat up, hoping that he couldn't tell I had just had the best and most visual dream of my life," Well, lets start out with 'Werewolves are...'" I said, sending him a faint smile as he wrote it down.

By the time Harry had finished the foot long essay with the help of myself and some exaggeratedly large handwriting, it was already ten minutes to nine. I was partially in awe that I had slept for over an hour. And I hadn't wanted to wake up after that. Graphic images from my dream, those wonderful, lovely hands, would pop into my mind sporadically and I could feel myself blushing each time I thought about it. It felt wrong, but it had been the best dream I had ever had. And as I changed into my standard school uniform, the very one I had been wearing in my dream with a white blouse and a grey pleated skirt, I could feel my skin growing hot. I couldn't understand the significance of the dream at the time, how it would eventually effect me and the things I would discover about it, but I knew that I had enjoyed it. Though I was left wondering if I would ever feel those things in my waking moments.

Shrugging it off, I slipped my robes over my shoulders and headed down to class, seeing as I had missed breakfast. The day for me passed slowly and was neither eventful nor exciting. At lunch Ron choked on his food, a result of shoving his face. I had laughed at him, joking that it was karma. I had always told him he would one day choke for his great mouthfuls of food, but it was no condolence to my restless mood. I felt fidgety all day, my clothes feeling confining and my skin feeling stretched. I couldn't describe the feeling really, but it was as if I needed something, I just didn't know what.

I should have realized, with all my great knowledge and logic, what I was going through. Even the most perfect of children one day grow up, but I was still troubled by it. I knew it wasn't the same. It always came back to how I was different. I wasn't the way God meant people to be. And so it nagged me throughout that long day. I didn't tell anyone about it, for I imagined them laughing at my naivety. How could I be so troubled about one small sexual dream? I wouldn't be able to tell them why. I would be to embaressed. I was to shy for my own good.

When classes finally ended as I had been so eager for them to do, I found myself even more lost. What was I to do with my spare time? I would usually study in the library, pouring over old books and finishing my homework for the next year, but I had no homework for once. There was no test to study for, not for three more weeks. I sat in the common room watching as Harry and Ron played Wizard's Chess. Ron was winning again as always. He was the master at the game, better then anyone else in the school. I had an inkling that if I had once tried to learn how to play I might have beaten him, but I had no interest in it, just as I had no interest in quidditch. I didn't need another hobby, for I had my books to keep me company.

But it had never occurred to me that I may one day not have a book to read. I had read all the books in the library, save for those in the Restricted Section, that showed any promise. I had read and reread so many books and my new shipment of Hogwarts: A History, Volumes 4, 5, and 6 weren't arriving for another week. I wanted them badly, for I was in the sixth one along with Harry and Ron. I thought it would be interesting to see what other people thought about our adventure to save the Sorcerer's Stone. I knew that they would soon have another volume following the tale of the Chamber of Secrets, and I couldn't wait for that either. But they weren't there then, so all I could do was sit an watch as Ron whooped Harry.

" Harry, you need to move your queen. Move her to E5," I advised with a nod towards the board. Harry looked down at his queen quizzically and then looked back up at me, his eyebrows raising behind his hair.

" You're right, Hermione," he said, almost in awe as he moved his queen away from the oncoming attack of Ron's knight.

I scoffed, " Don't look so shocked. I've been watching you two oafs play this game for years, don't think I haven't picked up a few things."

Both boys stared at me as I stood up, running a hand over my blouse before I turned away and headed up the Girls' Dorms Stairs. Heading into the sixth year room I grabbed a pair of plaid pajama pants, a white t-shirt and a hair brush before heading back down the stairs and out the portrait hole. The fat lady waved at me contently, obviously in a better mood after getting a good nights rest, and I waved back with slightly less vigor before heading away towards the prefect bathrooms. I contemplated what I was thinking of doing, but couldn't think of anything that might stop me. So I approached a portrait of a courtly young woman with a beautiful parasol above her head and a perfect smile upoun her face that was the entrance the girls prefect bathroom.

" Prefect Enigma," I said to the woman politely.

She smiled at me and nodded her head as her frame slid to the side, " Have a nice bath, my lady."

I smiled back at her, but it didn't reach my eyes, I knew. I really wasn't happy in my predicament. I still had that feeling about me. My clothes were itchy and I discarded them quickly, loving the feeling of fresh air against my bare, abnormally warm skin. When I looked at my naked self in the mirror I could see the flush that spread from face down across my breasts. I was slender, but not tall. I could have been described as a slip of a girl, but thankfully I wasn't one of those girls who were so skinny it was scary. I had a bit of meat on my bones and nicely curved hips. No one knew about me weekly jog around the quidditch pitch. I always took a jog early in the morning on Mondays, just to stay in shape. They helped a lot, because I had seemingly fit muscles across my legs and abdomen.

With one last look at myself I turned around and twisted the tap to the bath, letting the swimming pool sized tub slowly fill with water before turning another tap that produced lavender shaded bubbles that filled the room with the scent of fresh flowers. Taking one last deep, calming breath I slid into the warmth of the water and let it surround me from the neck down. To say the least it didn't help my bothered state, but I leaned my head back against the edge of the tub and tried to relax anyway. First I washed my hair, taking my time as I scrubbed the grime of the day out of the outrageously long strands. I felt cleaner after that and let myself float upoun the surface of the water for a while.

My eyes drifted closed at some point and I reached for the wall of the tub, sitting in the shallower end with my back against the warm stone. The scent of flowers was heady and the bubbles lapped at my chin, tickling the sensitive skin and coaxing a smile out of me. And then IT happened. Flashes of the dream shot through my head and I moaned to myself at the memory. I could almost feel those hands against my bare skin. I could almost imagine what would have happened if Harry hadn't woken me, and at the thought my breathing became heavy, my face a deeper shade of crimson and my hands trembling. I couldn't understand why the mere memory had me so excited, all I knew was that it wasn't going to go away.

That is, unless I did something about it....