Author: D. S. Ashwood
Pairing: Implied SS/TR, LM/TR [Slash]
Summary: Is there a difference between dreams and reality?
Rating: PG
The Dream
Was I before a man who dreamt about being a butterfly, or am I now a butterfly who dreams about being a man? ~ Chuang Tzu
He Dreamed.
A shadow stole across the land, plunging Britain into inky blackness. The dark cloud spread to Europe, and slowly but surely the world fell.
Their new headquarters was a towering stone castle, and now when he entered he was besieged by the ghosts of students, faculty, sneering or begging or floating numbly through the wall. The specters seemed not to bother Lucius, or Lestrange, or anyone from those old years who had no ties to the school in any case. They ought not to bother him as well.
But they did.
Eventually the Dark Lord recognized either his nerves or his usefulness, and began sending him in command of lesser Death Eaters. These had the task of ferreting Mudbloods and their sympathizers from the population and removing them from the "gene pool", as Arthur Weasley spit at him, just before his death. (He enjoyed that particular mission immensely and revisited the memory every few nights.)
But even more enjoyable was what became known at the September First Massacres.
The Dark Lord seemed to find it particularly appealing to continue the Hogwarts letters to ten-year-old Mudbloods. Severus's group inevitably infiltrated Diagon Alley to sell the brats their supplies. Voldemort obligingly sent the Hogwarts Express (now painted a nice, macabre black) and when the brats entered the Great Hall, the fun began.
But after the Massacre magic could not – would not – dispel the stench of blood, and for weeks the Great Hall gave food a metallic aftertaste. At meals Voldemort would smile, a twisted grimace that took away Severus's appetite. Even Lucius was hard-pressed, with that grinning skull inches away and one clawed hand gently rasping at his robes, though Lucius was certainly well used to the Dark Lord's – satisfaction.
The Dream was always the same, except when it featured Weasley, and it always ended as Severus sneered at Lucius's discomfit.
Then one night it changed.
The night of 30 October, 1981, to be precise. Severus went to sleep with the uncomfortable feeling that his Lord was hiding something. A big event was about to happen. Severus wondered what it would be. The Dream never showed specifics of the takeover – just that shadow covering the world. Severus supposed he should be excited, as the Dark Lord clearly was, but instead he felt a twinge of apprehension.
That night the Dream was different. After the Massacre, as Severus smirked at Lucius, the Dark Lord turned. He plucked his claws out of his play-thing's hair and pierced Severus with a blood-red stare. He let his gaze roam up and down the young man's lanky form. The forked tongue made a rare appearance as the Dark Lord licked his lips.
Severus woke up in a pool of his own vomit.
In the days and years following the Dream did not change. Eventually it elaborated. Once he became safely ensconced at Hogwarts, he took to nocturnal wanderings to put off the Dream. He created potion after potion, most of them Dark, to prolong wakefulness. The students took to calling him a creature of the night.
He let them believe that. He had weighed his two worlds, and found one highly preferable. Now the worst was at bay.
But while the world hoped, believed the Dark Lord gone for good, Severus knew it was only a matter of time before the Dream became Reality.
