It was always dark inside this space, this place beneath consciousness. Most people found total darkness to be disconcerting, even disturbing, but to her it was a great comfort and though the gloom was impenetrable, she could see herself with perfect clarity, even without glasses. In this dream, as in all her others, she was clad in nothing at all, safely hidden by a starless night. Without her usual layers of thick scarves and jangling beads, she might seem thinner, more fragile to another's eyes, but inside her mind, she was unquestionably beautiful. Her white skin glowed faintly, dotted sparsely with light brown freckles up and down her slender arms and legs and even a sprinkle on her small, pert breasts. Her eyes, though she wouldn't actually see them, would be a dark, liquid brown.

She let her body uncurl itself lazily and then rose onto her elbows, feeling her long, wavy hair spill over her shoulders. It needed no binding here; it never seemed to be in her way. She could do exactly as she pleased and never worry about interruption or annoyance.

"Are you there?" she asked the inky black void. She received no answer.

Standing, she pulled a thin, burnt-orange scarf from the air and tied it around her waist, not to cover her shame, but because she enjoyed the feel of its tassels brushing against her smooth calves. There wasn't much to see yet, the dream had only just started, but it was pleasant to stroll along without any particular destination. She wandered in a more-or-less straight line just to feel herself move.

Presently, her eyes became aware of a gradual shift in light. She perceived a horizon that divided what was still black from a sky that was becoming grey. Her meanderings redirected towards this new point of reference. From the darkness emerged the outlines of plants and flowers, even a few trees. What her feet had mistaken for shag carpeting turned out to be soft grass. How interesting.

The dreamscape continued to emerge, occasionally changing its mind and replacing a wooden bench with a stone walkway or exchanging rolling hills for towering mountains. The trees grew tall and thick, the towering mountains weathered until bare, craggy rocks were exposed. The whole area turned into a valley at the bottom of which sprang a familiar lake. In fact, when the blooming, golden sun was over the high peaks, she realized that this whole place was familiar to her; extremely familiar. The sudden erection of a majestic stone castle confirmed her suspicion.

"Hogwarts," she breathed.

"Exactly right," answered a high, male voice. "Sybill, you've fallen into a trance again, haven't you?"

"No, Tom, dearest. I am only asleep." Trelawney continued to watch the sun ascend over the castle, not turning around to look at her newly arrived companion. He stood beside her, their arms almost touching. "I feel calmest when I am dreaming," she continued thoughtfully. "I feel... that I belong."

"You keep coming back to my dreams. Why?"

"To see you again."

"I should think you would have become discouraged by now. How long ago did we last meet?"

"Two or three years, I think."

"You realize that we were only together once."

"Yes, I know... but I can't help it. I needed to see you again and now I have." Finally, she turned to him and smiled. "If you don't want to see me, why do you keep letting me in?"

He didn't say anything for a long time, only looked at her with half-closed, dark eyes. She wondered if he was going to say anything, but he really didn't need to. His face was calm, expressionless. This was also where he belonged- Hogwarts, not the dream. In fact, his form was indistinct in the dreamspace. His lines were blurred, his colors seemed to shift, but as they drew closer to the false castle, he grew clearer. Fascinating. Her curious hand reached out to trace the line of his shoulder. Like her, he was unclad, but unlike her, he was cold to the touch. He peered at her with eyes the color of slate. Unfazed, her hand remained on his shoulder, her thumb slowly stroking the knob of hard bone.

"My... adversaries claim to have a certain power over me, a power I can never possess, a power, in fact, I am literally incapable of experiencing. Love."

"Love? Tch. You have never concerned yourself with such things before. You have never had the time or patience for them."

"I may be unable to feel love, but why does that mean that the idea may hold no appeal for me? On the contrary; I find such... willful impracticality quite intriguing. Perhaps," he continued, hesitating while he chose his words, "if I imitate the emotion long enough, I can begin to understand it."

Trelawney answered with a pertinent question. "Why choose me?"

"You, my dear Seer, are already linked to me, whether you realize it or not. Your consciousness already recognizes mine, allowing me an alternate reality to... research without consequence." In life, this non-explanation might have raised her auger, but here she recognized its truth. She nodded slowly, then shrugged, then turned away, speaking. "And do you now understand your enigma?"

"I do not yet know. Let me show you what I have learned." He pulled her body sharply towards himself, which caused her to stiffen and brace for impact, but the kiss he delivered was so gentle that she relented and returned it. When the tip of his tongue swiped her lower lip, she melted in his arms and lost her balance. His arms caught hers, his forearms supporting hers to the elbow to hold her up, but he let gravity pull them both down. He knelt and slid one arm around her upper back at the ribs with the other at her resistant knees to lay her down, settling himself beside her as well.

As they lay together in the soft grass, touching and kissing, his face became soft. After a length of time, his hand rose to her face, brushing away a long, curled strand of brown hair. "Time grows long," he said softly, his eyes flicking above to where the sun waited patiently at its zenith.

"Something else also grows long."

"See for yourself," he replied harshly, taking her by the shoulders and crushing her body to his. He was long, pressing against her stomach hard enough to bruise. She let her lips slide against his while he flicked away the tickling tassels of her scarf. His fingers trailed slowly up and down the ridge of her thigh, swirling lightly and clearly seeking to please, but at this point, quite counter to his intentions, she succumbed to a fit of giggles at his intense look of concentration. Always quick to anger, he snatched back his hand and snapped, "Be quiet! Silence!"

Quickly, she endeavored to control herself and smile placidly. "Forgive me, but you don't need to be so tense! You can relax... enjoy yourself."

"Despite what you might think, my Seer, this is not an easy task." His face barely concealed his rage. A dark cloud passed over the sun, throwing his starkly white skin into bright contrast. His fingers gripped her so hard that she could feel nail marks begin to mar her skin.

"I know. I'm sorry." She waited, gazing into his face until his fierce eyes softened and the hard line of his mouth lost its sharp edge. "I want to help you."

He opened his mouth to make a retort, but gradually thought better of it and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he seemed to have calmed himself. "Let us begin again."

This second attack revealed more passion; his kisses lasted longer, his touches were warmer and his attitude became one of expression rather than scientific discovery. Trelawney's legs, which had previously been content to lie crossed on the grass, drew themselves up into sharp angles. Her scarf slowly slid down, exposing the top quarter of her pale thighs. When he noticed this, he let the pads of his fingers draw tender shapes on her sensitive, private skin. His eyes flicked up to hers when she shuddered, then pushed the boundary and stroked the insides of her thighs gently. Trelawney's eyes closed in pleasure.

While he kissed a curving line down her neck and across her shoulder, he also turned her body until she lay on her side facing away from him. Tom then began to count her vertebrae with his lips while his hand stretched down across the gentle, subtle curve of her waist and hips, then down her legs as far as he could lazily reach before returning back up her body. During this time, his own hips had been rocking gently back and forth against her soft body. His erection, which was now quite hard indeed, fit neatly into the fine canyon between her thighs. The rough head of his shaft moved along her straight cleft, feeling its texture and heat. Each time he pressed fully against her, and thus buried his shaft as far as he could between her legs, he felt her moan, the little vibration titillating against his chest.

"Do you like how that feels?" he asked her exposed ear. She gasped and tucked an imaginary strand of curly brown hair over that ear, then nodded, unable to think of anything more to say.

He teased her, letting the time in between his thrusts come more and more slowly, making her wait for him to brush against her point of pleasure. The need that grew in her voice encouraged the tight ball of lust in his groin which excited him, but he didn't know how much longer he could control it. He wanted to enjoy this moment as much as possible and if he could please her by the same token, so much the better. Each time his tip passed the entrance to her well, he hesitated- on the point of entrance- before passing. Once... twice... again... once more and his body moved unconsciously, deciding that this was the perfect moment. Mercilessly, he plunged his iron-hard shaft into her succulence.

She screamed softly and went rigid in his arms so that he was obliged to kiss her shoulder, neck and cheek until she relaxed again. When her heartbeat ceased its startled dance, he let himself indulge in a few languorous thrusts, then set about in dead earnest. Longer strokes caused her to suck air through her teeth while short, quick strokes made her moan across hesitations, to say nothing of what it did to him. His solitary experimentation was nothing like this. The feel of her was crushed velvet, her body against his was consuming warmth and all he knew was a desire for fulfillment. His hands enhanced the experience by cupping her little breasts, rolling them in his palms.

Trelawney couldn't bring herself to formulate any civilized thoughts. Her lover's arms were iron bonds around her, pulling her against him. His length seemed to pierce her very soul, plunging deliciously again and again, bringing her close to ecstasy when he became fervent, then falling away again to tease her, pluck her nipples and suck the sensitive nape of her neck. It was maddening. She struggled desperately to hang on to her need until her lover could satisfy it, but it was simply refusing to happen. He paused at each of her frustrated grunts, but that only exacerbated the problem.

"What do you want?" he finally asked, annoyed and struggling.

"This!" She seized his hand and thrust it down between her legs, directing his long forefinger to rub her burning clit. He did so with gusto, drawing little circles around it and rubbing it back and forth just under the pad of his finger. He kept rubbing when her body twisted and rocked against him and he kept rubbing when her cries became desperate and loud. His heart beat dangerously under his ribs. Around him, she began to tighten and though he tried to control himself, he found that he didn't want to. He rolled her on top of him and thrust upward using his hands to pull her down on top of him and stimulate her clit at the same time. He felt his entire body stiffen and throw all of its energy into her. Her knees clamped onto either side of him while she shook and moaned and pulled so hard on him that he couldn't help but fall into its relentless, delicious darkness.

Many minutes later, maybe even an hour later Trelawney opened her eyes. The sky was jewel blue, but little points of light were blinking into existence. Carefully, she sat up. She seemed to be alone. Her scarf had been folded and was lying on the grass not far from her. She noticed that all around her, the colors were beginning to darken. No one else was visible. She stood and began to walk, in no particular direction, tying on her scarf at the level of her chest as she did so. The castle was fading into the darkness, but she tried to reach it anyway. The feast would be starting soon. Or maybe it would be ending. Either way... it was somewhere to be.

xXx

A/N- It occurs to me that I write Voldemort like an evil, vengeful Spock. The time of this work can be flexible, but it occurs somewhere between years 5 and 7, when Voldemort continues to be thwarted by the good guys and decides to think about why.