Title: Dreams of You
Author: Nemesis
Feedback: Definitely not mine. Ah, well. They're such good boys.
Pairing: HP/SS
Rating: PG
Summary: An 18-year old Snape calls his lover into life. 18 years later, he deals with the repercussions of his actions.
Beta: My girlfriend, despite hating slash with all her heart.
Challenge: Coming Out Challenge
Archive: Dawn-to-Dusk Fuh-Q Fest Wave IX
18-year old Severus Snape completed the ritual and sunk into a deep sleep. His sleep was full of dreams, dreams of a young man who loved him deeply and unconditionally. He woke up suddenly just as the man in his dreams whispered in his ear, "I love you."
Severus smiled slightly as he woke. It was an indication that he had done the ritual correctly. He had cast a ritual to have the man of his dreams delivered to him. His one true love. At any other time, he would have scoffed at the notion of true love, but he was depressed over having lost his lover (again), and he decided the only way to keep anyone would be to call forth the one person who could not leave him.
He knew he would have to wait at least eighteen years before that man could appear before him. Often, to create such a perfect match, a person had to be born, tailored, so to speak, to that task. Only very rarely was someone already a perfect match.
Severus waited excitedly to see who was pregnant. He knew it would probably be someone he knew. Within seven months, he knew who the likely candidates were. Alice Longbottom, Narcissa Malfoy, and Lily Potter were all pregnant, all with sons, no less. Severus smiled to himself. He was certain Malfoy's son would be his perfect match.
He fell asleep with dreams of perfection, ready to shoulder waiting for another eighteen years.
Eleven years later
Severus entered his Potions classroom with a fair amount of trepidation. This was the class of that person he had called forth. He was still certain it was Malfoy's son. He looked around curiously.
He immediately recognized Potter's son. Potter Jr. looked up at Severus with his mother's eyes peering out of his father's face. Severus scowled. He hated James Potter. Or had hated James Potter, in any case. There really wasn't a James Potter to hate anymore, only the James Potter of his memories.
And Longbottom's son. Neither his mother nor his father, but rather a thorough blend of both parents.
With a sigh, he started class, knowing that he could not do anything until his mate turned eighteen.
Seven years later
A sharp knock on his door startled Severus out of his reverie. Severus snarled. It wasn't a special day. Everyone should have very well left him alone, then. No, it was just August 17th, unremarkable to him. Or anyone that he knew of. Although Malfoy's birthday hadn't been that long ago. Maybe it was Malfoy then.
"Come in," he barked.
Harry Potter entered sheepishly. Severus felt like murdering him.
"What do you want, Potter?"
Harry shut the door behind them. "Well, this is kinda delicate," he began.
"Which is exactly why you should forget about having this conversation, then, since you obviously fail miserably at 'delicate.'"
"Come off it, Snape. It's important. The fact that there aren't words to express it isn't my bloody fault! Actually, I rather think it's yours!"
"My fault! What, precisely, is my fault?"
Suddenly, Harry started laughing like a lunatic. He grabbed his side as he laughed, unable to stop.
Severus grabbed his wand and checked to make sure Harry wasn't under the influence of some kind of magic. Nope. Apparently this was to be expected.
"Potter, what is so bloody funny?"
Harry waved the question off, finally collecting himself. "'S your fault, you see."
"Sit down," Severus commanded. "I won't have you towering over me as though you were twice my age."
Harry sat.
"Now, what is my fault?"
Harry ignored the question. "I turned eighteen a little over two weeks ago. Started having the dreams then, too."
"What dreams? Potter, what are you nattering on about?"
"Dreams of a dark man, with a voice full of promise. Dreams of love. Dreams that I've never had before."
"Congratulations, Mr. Potter, you have passed into the realm of erotic dreams."
Harry shook his head so vehemently, Severus was surprised. "I've been having those for a while now. No, dreams of love. Dreams of something more. And then I realized who was behind it all."
"Do enlighten me, since you seem so determined to blame your dreams on me."
"They were of you."
"And this is my fault how?"
"I looked it up. It's a ritual performed, often by desperate young people certain they will never be loved, to have their truest love delivered to them. It began in the olden days, when the perfect match was needed for a young prince – it was always the prince – and instead of searching for one, they would, in effect, create one. Then came the betrothal. It cannot be resisted, the ritual. Over time, the need for one's mate became so intense, it could kill. You performed the ritual, didn't you?"
Severus gaped at him.
"You performed the ritual and created for yourself the perfect mate. Then, when your mate turned eighteen, he would have those dreams of you. You poured your essence into those dreams so that your mate could dream of you. Don't you get it, Snape? I've been dreaming of you. Since my eighteenth birthday."
"Oh, dear Merlin," Severus sighed. "I dreamed you into life."
Harry nodded. "Obviously."
"All these years, and I never realized it would be you. I always thought it would be Malfoy."
Harry chuckled. "Ironic, isn't it? The son of your most hated schoolboy enemy is your mate."
Severus glared at him. "Shut up. You know, there is the final… test to see if it is true."
Harry nodded. He walked over to Severus and kissed him languidly. Fire rushed through their veins, igniting every nerve.
"Oh, sweet Merlin. I did dream you into life."
"I think, in the end, you won't care that much," Harry panted.
Severus shook his head. "No. I already don't care now. Sit," he commanded as an afterthought. Harry went to sit back on the armchair.
"No, sit here. On my lap."
He waited until Harry was comfortably ensconced in Severus' lap. "I had performed that ritual after I was dumped by one of my lovers. He… well, he didn't exactly care for me. He just wanted my body, and after he figured out that I was interested in more, he walked out on me. I realized that I wanted someone who knew me, understood me. Someone who would stay with me. And, in that moment, I realized the only way to do that would be to dream that person into life."
"Oh," Harry sighed in a small voice.
"Why? Would you have looked at me if I…"
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But I do wish you would have given me – or anybody else – that choice."
"There is no other way that it could work," Severus answered firmly. "None."
Harry shrugged. "You're not a romantic, I can tell." He tenderly brushed a lock of Severus' hair out of his face.
Severus smiled slightly. "I think I could be," he murmured. "Why else would I…"
"I don't know, Severus."
Severus sighed. "There was no other way," he said firmly, seemingly reading Harry's mind.
"You never gave anyone the chance."
"Nobody cared about me. Nobody. I wanted to ensure that someone did. For the rest of my life."
Harry smiled slightly. "Well, I'm here."
"But maybe you're right," Severus sighed a moment later. "I shouldn't've performed that ritual. Now you'll be saddled with me forever."
"True. But I love you."
"But you never had a choice."
"Choice or no choice, I love you." Harry gently caressed Severus' cheek.
"That would mean you share my inclinations."
"I have no choice but to."
"The bond is strong while both of us are alive. If I die, you're free."
"True. But if you die, I'll be free and without my mate. I have love now. Why would I want to give it up for something as trite as freedom? I'm bound to you. Why would I give this up?"
Severus chanced a small smile. "You mean you would love me even if…"
"What can I say of that? But I love you now, as you are, and I will personally kill you myself if you do anything foolish."
Severus smiled. "You mean you're staying with me, even though I gave you no choice?"
"Yes," Harry whispered against Severus' lips.
Severus grinned uncharacteristically, realizing that he would never be alone again.
-- End