Escape From Deathly Hallows
Escape From The Deathly Hallows
"Take my hand!" cried a woman's voice, as she reached for the hand of the bleeding wizard. "Hold on!"
Severus Snape was dazed, losing consciousness and confused. He had stared once more into the green eyes of Harry Potter and offered up his memories of Lily along with Dumbledore's story, offering all that mattered. Someone must know and, in the end, Potter deserved the truth. He had no idea who this woman was, but she was offering… something to him. He held out a twitching hand and felt someone grasp his wrist. He gripped feebly in return and she dragged him up, so he forced himself to help her. The universe tore around him for a moment and there was only silence and agony.
"Poor guy," whispered a husky voice as arms wrapped firmly around his useless body.
He forced his eyes open one last time, saw compassionate blue eyes staring intently at him, and as he lost consciousness, knew this must be death.
"Choose…"
Professor Snape woke up with one word ringing in his mind. He was in a silent, dimly lit place and he was alone. No Dark Lord, no Nagini and no Potter. He tried to recall, but his body and mind were heavy, sluggish. Gradually he remembered that the Dark Lord believed that by killing him he would become the true master of the Elder Wand. It was odd to have died because of Voldemort's pathetic miscalculation, but as fitting as any other reason.
Potter had looked down in shock, his green eyes glittering intently as they met his own eyes. A terrible stabbing pain had seized him as blood gushed over his hands when he clutched the bite on his neck. Then the woman had called out. There was nothing he could do, he thought, feeling useless. He closed his eyes and quickly lost consciousness, wondering what he'd learn if he woke again.
Severus woke again hours later, confused. Where was he? He tried to move and realized that he felt no pain. Somehow he'd healed in sleep. He sat up and realized that he was naked. His head was remarkably clear and he felt better than he had in years. After a confused moment, an absence of pain on his left forearm drew his eye down. The Dark Mark was gone from him. The skin of his arm was smooth and pale. He gasped and gulped back a sob of joy. He remembered a hand reaching out to him when he was more than halfway to his own death. He wondered who the woman had been and how she'd done it. He also wondered why. Cautiously he got to his feet and wrapped the sheet from the bed thoroughly around himself. He had no wand, nothing that was his own.
He was in a small room with white walls, empty but for the bed. There were two doors and the first he opened led to a spartan bathroom. Grimacing, he took advantage of it and then stared at his reflection in the small mirror over the sink. His face hadn't changed, he thought bitterly, so he was still himself. There were two jagged, ugly white scars on his neck where the snake had pierced it. Wrapping up in the sheet again, he opened the other door.
This was another spare, white room and in it there was only a couch. A woman was sleeping on it and he thought she must be the one who'd prevented his most timely death. He advanced silently, studying her.
She had blond, curly hair and she was snoring gently. She seemed about his own age, he thought. Her cheek was pillowed on her hand and she showed no sign of waking. There was nowhere for him to sit but on the couch, however, he couldn't very well sit on her. He needed to sit and he needed answers.
"Excuse me," he snapped icily. "Will you please wake up?"
The woman's eyes flew open wide; she sat up and gasped. Snape was pleased to see that she seemed also to be naked for some reason, and he watched, bemused, as the sheet that covered her slipped to briefly reveal one full, bare breast. She wrenched her sheet up hastily and stared up at him, blushing.
"You're alive!" she exclaimed stupidly.
"Obviously. Will you please tell me what's happening? Who are you, where are we, and why am I not dead?"
She rolled her eyes, seeming displeased by the tone of his voice. A blush crept up her cheeks and he saw her fully grasp the nasty fact that they neither of them had clothes on. It was clear that she knew little more than he did. She edged to the far end of the couch and gestured to him to sit down at the other.
"My name's Zelda," she said slowly, offering to shake hands. "I wish we were meeting under more conventional circumstances, like wearing clothes, but this wasn't my idea."
She had a direct, quirky air about her and he was cynically amused by the way she'd blushed when he'd seen her tit. He shook her hand briefly and then returned to the subject at hand.
"Do you live here? How did I get here?" he asked.
"Would you want to live here?" she asked sardonically, her gaze flicking around the bare room. "I've never seen this place before. I don't really understand it, but I wonder if this is on the way to someplace…"
She seemed reluctant to continue, which was irritating, but her eyes twinkled with mocking amusement and she had a most expressive left eyebrow that animated her face. He suspected she knew more than she'd told him.
He became suddenly aware of something shocking. She was Legilimencing him! His barriers went up and his eyes became cold and dead.
"How dare you!" he snarled, outraged. "Stop it."
Confusion appeared in her blue eyes and her face fell. Flushing, she said softly, "How did you know? People never know when I do it."
"Didn't your teachers explain magical etiquette to you?" he asked irritably, his brief tolerance of her disintegrating into outrage.
"No one taught me, I just do it," she replied. "I'm sorry, I try not to do it, but I don't understand who you are or why we're here, so I'm pretty freaked out. I won't do it again."
Her frank apology filled his mind with questions, but he tried to stay on topic.
"You brought me here. How and why?" he asked, fixing his eyes on her sternly.
"I'm not sure. I was at home, working on my curriculum, and suddenly the room began spinning and then I was in this white place. I opened the door, trying to get out of here and I saw… you. You were on the ground in front of me, blood was gushing out from your neck. You were completely alone and it was the most terrible thing I've seen. Something made me put out a hand; I suppose I felt that even if you were dying, you shouldn't do it alone. I thought I couldn't reach you, except that I did and when you took my hand, I pulled and you were here."
"Where is this place?"
"I don't know. The other room had a bed, so after I got you in here I laid you down on it. I went to look for help, or first aid supplies… a phone to call for help, but… I don't know how I got here!" She inhaled a bit frantically. "Where are my clothes? I don't mean to be rude, but it's damned unnerving to wake up naked and find a man wearing only a sheet looming over me."
"You didn't undress me?' he asked, frowning.
"Of course not," she snapped. "I was going to ask you the same thing."
Gathering her sheet around her, she rose and began padding barefoot around the white room. There were two windows, but when she looked outside there was thick fog swirling before her. She stared at the dense gray clouds intently.
"It has to be a dream," she whispered.
Turning, she bumped into Snape, who'd followed her to the window. She gazed up at him curiously and he knew she saw a grim, ugly fellow, with a long, haggard face and lank black hair. His nose was large and hooked and frown lines creased his forehead. His eyes were black, cold and piercing. Yet she didn't look away immediately and she didn't seem frightened…
"You said there's a door," he murmured. He realized he was standing too close to her, but he refused to leap away like a frightened schoolboy.
"Over…" her voice faded as she realized it was gone and she looked up at him helplessly. "It was there."
Magic, he thought, wondering who would bring two strangers into such an odd situation. Abruptly, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room with the bed. The bed was gone. There was a table with two chairs. Upon it sat platter of sandwiches, a bowl of fruit and a fragrant pot of tea. Snape realized he hadn't eaten in at least two days and he was ravenous. He headed for the table, still pulling her along.
"What is this place?" she asked as they hastily sat down.
He gave her no answer. Perfunctorily he held the sandwiches out for her to take one, and then fell to eating, consumed by his wild hunger. It was several minutes before he paid attention to the woman again, and when he did he saw that she'd poured tea for them both. He gulped some down and paused to look curiously at her.
"What's your name?" she asked, her lips twitching into a faint smile. "I told you mine, but you didn't reciprocate."
He vaguely remembered that she was right and her name was Zelda.
"Severus Snape," he muttered reluctantly.
"Shall I call you Mr. Snape?" she asked courteously.
"Professor Snape," he corrected automatically, before he realized how ridiculous it was to stand on formalities is such a setting.
With a wicked grin, Zelda murmured, "Nice sheet, Professor Snape."
Rolling his eyes, he said, "Call me Severus."
The world he'd known had disappeared. He wondered if he could Apparate back to the battle. But time seemed to have carried him away from his old struggles, so what had happened back there was long over. He hoped it had gone well and that Potter had managed to do what he had not.
"Am I dead?" he mused, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
"Not that I know of. In fact, you seem fine now, but you were close when you first got here. Is it possible to heal instantly?"
She seemed like a pleasant but foolish little witch, he thought, gulping down another cup of tea. He'd been extremely hungry.
"What do we do now?" she asked, seeing that he seemed replete.
"Find out why we're here and what we're supposed to do next," he replied absently. "There must be a point to this."
Rising, the sheet slipped down to his waist, exposing his bare chest. Flushing, he sat down and pulled the bloody sheet up again, glancing at her and scowling.
"Fair's fair," she said defiantly. "I showed you mine, and you showed me yours…"
The memory of that womanly tit flashed into his mind. During his long, miserable long years working to assist Dumbledore he'd stubbornly ignored females and attended to business. He had no interest. But now, he was wearing only a white bed sheet, as she was, and she was attractive. When she got up and strode out of the room, he followed, wondering what she was doing.
There were two couches now, facing each other with a table in between. A small pile of books stood on the table and Zelda approached them curiously.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," she said, picking the top one up.
Snape picked up a thick manuscript that was entitled, "What Now, Severus?"
His name. Perhaps this would explain what was happening to him. He sank down on a couch and began reading. It was indeed about him, but nothing that had really happened in his life. Bellatrix Lestrange… When he was well into the second chapter he shook his head in irritable disbelief. The woman, Zelda, was in it. He looked over to where she was reading intently, her eyes wide. Was she the woman who'd saved his fictional life in this story? A Muggle? He'd been pathetic, but it seemed she had a soft spot for a pathetic, wounded wizard. In fact she'd been kind, clever and funny, helping him in spite of her sensible doubts about him. He resumed reading, appalled yet fascinated by the tale. His fictional self quickly embarked on a mad sexual relationship, falling in love with a middle-aged Muggle woman. He stopped himself from squirming with an effort and forced himself not to look at her, but he kept reading. His temperature seemed to be rising as he imagined her touching him, and what it would feel like to kiss her and hold her. She was a generous lover in the story, happy and strong-minded.
"What are you reading?" he asked finally, unable to read more descriptions of stunning intimacy when he was so close to this woman. Especially since he was essentially naked. He didn't dare to look down and he hoped she was too distracted to notice his erection throbbing under the useless sheet that covered him. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, striving for his usual impassive expression.
"The adventures of a sweet boy wizard who attends a school called Hogwarts," she said, looking up with a curious gleam in her blue eyes. "His friends, his Headmaster and his cruel Potions Master are also featured."
"Ah…" he said, a glimmering idea entering his mind and dispassionately he pondered how one might cope with the discovery that one is a fictional character.
"It's a work of fiction," she murmured suggestively.
"So is this," he said. "It's about a wizard who's attacked by a psychotic witch and left to die, but a Muggle woman finds him and helps him. They fall in love and seem to have extremely frequent sex. Her name is Zelda."
She blushed at his speculative gaze and said, "It's not me. It's not us."
"It's enough like me that I'm taken aback. Especially because I never allowed anyone to know that I'm human in what I believed to be my real life," he told her, wondering how she'd react to his hypothesis.
Silence fell and the minutes ticked on as they stared at each other.
"You look remarkably, um, robust for a fictional character," she said coolly, letting her eyes wander over his sheet-clad body impudently.
"So do you," he replied mockingly. "Perhaps we should exchange reading material. I'm intrigued to know how I'm seen in my world and perhaps this will inspire you."
He stood up and took the book out of her hands, replacing it with the parchment. He took care to loom over her a bit and brush her hand with his own, making her blush. He made no attempt to read the book in his hands, instead watching her closely. After she'd read for a short time, her eyes widened in shock.
"This is crap," she snorted, her cheeks crimson. "Complete and utter bullshit."
"You're blushing," he pointed out, smirking wickedly. "After reading it, I admit I'm rather curious about you."
She lowered her eyes with a grimace, reading on in silence. But she periodically squirmed in embarrassment.
"Did you read the sixth chapter?" she asked, looking nervously over at him.
He nodded, smirking again as he remembered her outrageous comment that she found him sexy and his shocking response. For a wizard who'd loved Lily Evans even after she'd married, even after she'd died, the very idea that he could fall in love with another woman was outrageous. Still, she seemed kind and it might be interesting, if she were willing…
"Are you really forty-two?" he asked.
She nodded slowly, closing her eyes.
"I'm thirty-eight," he said smugly. "Almost thirty-nine. Older than in the story."
"Married?" she asked. "Do you have kids?"
"Merlin's bleeding arse, no!" he replied. "You just read the book, at least part of it. That's me, the actual Severus Snape."
She smiled and said, "You're the villain in that book."
"Is that a problem?" he replied enigmatically. "Besides, you haven't finished it. Perhaps there are hidden depths to me."
"May I have it back?" she asked. "I can't read any more of this."
His black eyes glittered. "You're not a fan of romance?"
"Sorry, no. Maybe that woman bears a passing resemblance to me, but I'm not … Oh shit, never mind, please let me have the book back. I feel like puking, reading this."
"Am I so distasteful?" he asked, holding the book out, but not moving from his couch.
She looked reproachfully at him and rose, holding the sheet firmly around her body. She handed the manuscript pages to him and reached for the book he held in his lap.
In a flash his arm snaked out and he grasped her wrist. He yanked her down into his lap, holding her with an arm firmly around her waist. He watched her curiously, waiting to see what she'd do.
She didn't try to escape, but rolled her eyes and said, "This is idiotic. I'll admit I'm possibly a little horny after reading all that bullshit, and you're reasonably sexy. But rather than screw a stranger, I want to know why we're here and how I'm going to get out of this mess."
She was pressing one hand against his chest, trying to maintain some distance between their bodies. The feel of that warm hand and the weight of her in his lap were madly arousing. He fought his need to rub himself against her warm thigh, and the effort made him forget to breathe for a few painful seconds. Her no-nonsense, honest words pleased him, yet instinct told him if he kept her there, she'd likely acquiesce to his desire. He ran his thumb slowly down her cheek and traced her lower lip, making her breath catch. He had to admit that the writer of that appalling romance story knew what worked.
"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours," he murmured silkily. "There's magic here, lady, and it seems we must explore it."
He used Legilimency on her, finding her so apprehensive that she wasn't aware of his intrusion. She was a lonely woman, perhaps as lonely as he'd been for all those years, and frightened by the idea of a one-shot in bed, but he intrigued her.
"Kiss me," he suggested, brushing a soft curl back off her cheek and waiting.
She studied him earnestly, obviously torn between reluctant arousal and common sense. Slowly her hand moved to his cheek. The caress of her hand made pure lust roar through his body. It was all he could do to sit still and wait. She was frightened and he knew enough to go slowly. He was rewarded when she leaned forward, brushed her nose against his and touched her lips to his. It was exquisitely tender and he moved forward, pursuing her lips when she pulled back, unwilling to let it end so quickly. The kiss went on and when he touched his tongue to her lips, with a slight shiver she parted them to allow him in.
"Only a little horny?" he whispered, taking possession of her mouth and pulling her firmly into his embrace.
Her response was to lay her hand on his bare neck and run her fingers into his hair, a subtle yet delicious gesture that delighted him. Her body was touching his now, with only the ridiculous sheets between them and she was gradually surrendering to him. He pulled back and stared into her blue eyes, smiling faintly at the sight of her parted lips and shy expression. He gestured with a glance and she loosened the sheet, letting it fall to her waist. Her body was delicious, rich and womanly, her tits warm and heavy with erect nipples.
"This is mad," she said with a sigh.
She'd given permission, so he turned and laid her on the couch. He unwrapped the sheet from her body, like unwrapping the best Christmas present he could imagine and she lay before him, naked and deeply self-conscious. He parted her thighs, and tentatively explored her sensitive flesh, finding her responsive to his fingers. She was wonderful, he thought.
Abruptly she pulled away and sat up.
"You haven't shown me yours," she said firmly, pushing him against the back of the couch and straddling his lap.
She began kissing him and pulled open the sheet he still wore around him. He tensed instantly, but allowed her to proceed. Smiling, she pressed her bare body against his and he explored the tender skin of her thighs with eager hands. Her hands moved over his neck and shoulders, teasing his chest hair. She leaned back and smiled wryly at him, allowing her fingers to drift lower.
"Better," she said, kissing his hooked nose impulsively. "You're totally fucking sexy, Professor Severus Snape."
He laughed for the first time in many years, suddenly realizing that this shocking alternative to dying with his throat torn by a snake was quite wonderful. He wrapped his arms around her and joined his mouth to hers again. He felt intoxicated by those fingers touching him. When she lay back on the couch, he knelt between her legs and pushed inside her.
"Wow," she whispered, twining her arms around his neck.
Wow indeed, he thought, thrusting slowly in and out of her. He buried his face briefly in her soft, curly hair. It smelled like lavender, subtle and lovely. He felt his brain turning to mush as he gave in to a delicious infatuation with this Zelda. He slowed and raised his head to look at her.
Their eyes met and she allowed him access to her thoughts in a mad, generous impulse. She thought him wonderful, clever, deliciously sarcastic and supremely attractive, all of which startled him. But rigidly, stubbornly, she also refused any claim to him based upon this impulsive sex. She was proud, he realized, and wouldn't cling to him, although somehow it seemed his existence had touched her heart.
"You're lovely, Zelda," he murmured as they moved together. "That story… Could it be us? I wonder…"
Tears came to her eyes as she held him and she said softly, "I feel as though I love you, but that's impossible. This isn't real."
"Tell me what you think is real later," he said, smirking as her legs wrapped around his thighs. "But if it's a dream, I wonder if I love you too in it."
He licked a tear from her cheek and began kissing her again, learning the taste of her and delighting in the way her tongue met his. She raised her legs up around his waist and he moved deeper inside her, entranced by her willingness to be vulnerable with him. She began moaning and her arms tightened around his neck, then suddenly her body clenched around him as her climax consumed her. That exquisite pressure did it and he thrust fiercely into her, filling her with his essence and embracing her fiercely. That release was a most wonderful feeling, something that had been so long denied him in his bitter life.
Gradually their grasp loosened and he rolled on his side next to her, breathing hard, and studied her face.
"You're amazing," she panted, gazing at him dreamily. "Unforgetable."
"So are you," he replied, wondering if there was some way he could keep her. Lily had been his childhood friend, but she'd chosen to love and marry Potter without hesitation and died long ago. That world he'd lived in seemed far behind him now and he wondered if he'd dare to move forward and try again to figure out how to live.
This woman, Zelda, found him completely wonderful and he'd seen her internal struggle to keep from asking him to stay with her. Unwilling to make demands on him, but craving his company, she was honorable and sweet.
Their gaze locked and though neither dared to say the words, their mutual longing glowed in their eyes. Snape caressed her cheek and drew her close.
"I don't know what will happen, but thank you, Zelda," he said. "You're wonderful."
"My pleasure," she said with a faint smirk, snuggling against him.
Severus Snape watched her go to sleep as he held her against his side, feeling protective of his sweet new lover. Periodically he'd pet her or kiss her shining curls, falling in love with having a lover in his arms. He reluctantly sat up and tucked a sheet around her. Then he went to the other couch, picked up the manuscript that told the story of his relationship with her, and began reading again, wanting to learn more of her.
Occasionally he found himself smiling. She knew, in this story, what he was. Incredibly, she adored him, even with his foul temper, his harsh tongue and periods of depression. The terrible evils he'd committed in his youth didn't deter her; she respected the man that she knew. It was as though he could be reborn with her, free from his blighted past. If he'd really had her in his life while he worked for the Order, the relief of having her understand and love him would have changed his outlook completely.
The Zelda in this story seemed of a piece with the woman he'd just made love to. She was clever and wise, yet her human flaws made her real and comforting. Her absurd insecurities about herself resonated with him and she loved precisely those things about him that others mocked. He remembered her kissing his ugly nose and declaring him 'totally fucking sexy.' She had an ironic sense of humor and liked to make him laugh, knowing how little cause he'd had to laugh in his life. When Potter arrived, she took the boy in hand and they learned to work together, albeit awkwardly. Another hour of reading brought him to the end and he wished this could be his life and his destiny, a long, productive life with Zelda by his side, their children and a small number of good people who were his friends.
Snape set the manuscript down on the floor and, startled to remember that he was naked, wrapped the abandoned sheet around himself and walked around the room, searching for clues about what the place was. If he was simply the literary creation of an author called J.K. Rowling, he wasn't real. But he felt real, although he'd been ripped from the plot of that book as he was being killed. That felt like magic.
Zelda was a literary creation too, in fact one created precisely for him by a woman called Emilie D. He wished he could find and thank her for the adorable lover she'd created for him. He went to a window and stared out at the swirling fog, wondering if or when something would happen.
He strode to the door that led to the other room, in search of the bathroom. But the room had changed yet again. It was filled with piles of parchment as tall as he was and at the far end was a desk. Seated at it was Hermione Granger, reading intently. She was wearing a bed sheet, which seemed to be the only clothing available in this odd place. She looked up at him, startled.
"Professor Snape!" she squeaked.
"What is this?" he snarled, appalled at the sight of his seventh year student in this place.
"I don't know. I woke up here and I have nothing to wear. All this," she said, gesturing around her, "is stories about me falling in love with… you. About us together."
Her cheeks were scarlet and she looked down, having realized that she'd never seen him undressed before.
Snape picked up a manuscript from the top of a pile and skimmed it. It was disgusting. In it he was a bloody perv, having it off with Granger in his Potions storeroom. He threw it from him, feeling ill.
"I'm old enough to be your father," he hissed icily. "I'm not a child molester. I can't believe there's a room full of this filth. I was simply looking for the loo and I'd like to get on with it."
There was the door and he took a deep breath, hoping this too hadn't changed. Mercifully it was still the bathroom. After using the facilities he remained there, wishing Granger would be gone. When he went back out, Granger was still there, but about ten years older.
"We should talk about this," she declared. "I don't understand any of this. I don't know where Ron and Harry went or what happened with Voldemort. That story you read was disgusting, but some are quite beautiful. Haven't you ever thought of me as a woman?"
She was attractive as an adult woman, he thought reluctantly, accepting another manuscript and beginning to read. In this one, he was forced to take her on as an assistant after she finished school and the romance grew gradually. They didn't actually have sex until she was twenty, and she'd learned his habits and ways quite well. It was less repulsive, he thought… Except that she was still Hermione Granger, his former student and insufferable know-it-all. She'd always be young enough to be his daughter and he could never think of her as a lover.
"What about Ronald Weasley?" he asked cynically, running his eyes over the curves of her body.
"I don't know," she replied, looking confused. "I'm here because of you. If you want me, if you like one of these stories, I'll be in that story with you."
So she wasn't real, this Granger woman, he thought in relief. He was beginning to understand that if he were a character from a story, then everyone would be. Snape looked around the room at the mountains of manuscripts, wondering, horrified, how many people had spent many hours writing stories of him doing his female students. He knew well that too many idiot students had been infatuated with him in spite of his vicious, nasty behavior. The fact that he was the youngest male teacher at Hogwarts made it an unavoidable nuisance and it seemed many people got a sick thrill from imagining unequal, kinky relationships.
Looking at her again, he said, "Miss Granger, go away. Go back to your friends in Rowling's story and live your life."
He nodded to her, turned and walked out of the room, not looking back. But in this room, instead of finding Zelda, Harry Potter stood before him, surrounded by piles of manuscripts.
Snape recoiled in horror, fearing the worst.
"Merlin, don't tell me!" he snapped, snatching up a manuscript and turning to a page in the middle where he read, "Young Harry's green eyes glowed with excitement as the hook-nosed wizard ripped the school robes from his young body and wrenched him into a furious embrace, kissing him passionately."
"Who the hell would write twisted shit like this?" he hissed at the confused young man, "We may be fictional characters, but even putting aside sexual orientation, there's no way on earth I'd touch Lily's son. Go back and snog Ginny Weasley, Potter!"
"All right," replied Harry. "But, erm… Am I a fictional character?"
"If I can find my way back to Zelda, she'll be happy to lend you our copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," snapped the irritated wizard. "The author makes me look vile, although I hope things will improve in the sequel. You, on the other hand, are the bloody impudent little hero. In fact, in Zelda's and my story you come off as nauseatingly adorable too. Now go away and I'll try to forget that I ever saw this."
Harry headed for the door, pausing just before he left and asking, "Who's Zelda?"
Snape had no answer to give him. He pointed to the door and hissed, "Go!"
He waited a moment before going to the door.
"I wish to return to Zelda now," he told the air around him, and then strode to the door, his bed sheet billowing behind him.
When he opened the door he saw the room where he'd left her. He went to the couch and she was there, sleeping where he'd left her. Breathing a sigh of relief, he knelt, wondering if she'd changed while he was away.
"Zelda," he whispered, kneeling down by her and touching his lips to hers.
She smiled, her eyes still closed.
"Am I dreaming, Severus?" she asked.
"What does it mean to dream here? Open your eyes," he said.
He dropped the sheet he wore, lay down, slipped under the sheet that covered her and pressed against her. When her arm went around his waist, he groaned with relief.
Her eyes were drowsy and loving. She nuzzled his nose, smiling.
"Have you figured it out?"
"You know, don't you?" he countered.
"I'm guessing. That small pile of books there, the Harry Potter ones. The stories with me in them aren't real books, are they?" she asked, having given up the pretense that she was not the Zelda of the story. "So in some way that I don't understand, this is a chance for you to not die in the Rowling books. Are you supposed to die there? It looked like it when I first saw you. Anyway, you can jump to another story to have a future, but you have to choose if our story's the one you want. Are there others?"
He nodded and said, "I don't understand who could do this or how it can happen. Does it bother you to be a fictional character?"
"What's reality? I feel real and you feel amazingly real to me. My life's the only one I've known. Besides, I can't complain to management if I'm not happy about it, can I?" she mused. "Maybe the whole universe is a massive collection of fictional stories. But then, I'd petition for the author to write more happy endings, since so much of the world's fucked up."
"Our story together has a happy ending," he mused, toying with a curl by her forehead. "I read it. We live to a good age and die together at the end of a long, fulfilling life."
"Really?" she asked. "I'm scared to read it now. I never imagined my life being wonderful."
He gazed thoughtfully into her bright eyes and said, "Neither did I. I'd like to start over, to come to your story… I mean our story, if that's all right with you."
Joy blazed forth in her blue eyes and it ignited in his soul, a wild, delicious passion. He caught her close and said, "Do I deserve a chance to change my destiny? I did what I could to correct the evil I caused, but…"
"Someone thinks you deserve it," she replied. "But are you sure about me? If many people write all this stuff, you should probably consider your options."
His lip curled in disgust and he replied, "I went to find the bathroom and the other room was changed. It was huge and filled with manuscripts, Hermione Granger was there. Evidently there's a legion of perverts who fantasize about me banging my teenage students, Granger in particular."
"Your student? Oh, gag me!" she replied. "I suppose they're out there. Of course there are plenty of hot, um, nubile teenage girls… and I'm not the least bit hot. Are you sure you can't do better?"
"I despise young people and besides being a deliciously sexy woman, you make me laugh," he said. "I'd be bloody lucky to be with you in it."
"How can we go to that story?" she asked. "And what if you have to meet more prospects first?"
Snape shuddered and said, "I already did. I was trying to return here and ended up in another room full of manuscripts. Potter was there."
She stared at him and finally said, "I hope he was older than eleven. That's horrifying!"
"Seventeen and that's still vile," he replied. "Male or female, they're bloody annoying children. I'm not gay, by the way. And I have no interest in violating decency by shagging some needy brat, while I grow more foul-tempered and senile every day."
Zelda giggled and said, "I'll beat you to foul-tempered and senile."
"We're three years apart, ridiculous woman."
He kissed her smiling lips and murmured, "You don't bore me. While I was rejecting Potter and Granger, I just wanted to come back and talk with you about it."
"Maybe I should read that manuscript after all," she said. "But it's creepy, reading about us having sex and knowing other people have been reading it. And I doubt I'm as good in the sack as she is. My blow-job technique needs work."
"Well, about blow jobs, practice makes perfect, I believe," he suggested, chuckling. "I notice you swear a bit more creatively here than in the story."
"Of course. An author shouldn't write endless cursing, what a drag that'd be. In literature, swearing should be used sparingly and for emphasis, to make a fucking point," she explained primly. "And I hope to work on my, um, oral technique in the near future.
"Ah, I hadn't considered profanity from that perspective. I also never seriously imagined myself so proficient at sex, but in that story…"
"Practice makes perfect," she whispered as her hand roamed caressingly down over his ribs and eventually reached his cock.
He remembered reading about her touching him like this. It had been fun reading, but the reality was infinitely more exquisite. He cupped those warm breasts in his hands, wondering how that author woman knew he adored tits. He was undoubtedly a pathetic cliché, but he squeezed firmly, pleased when Zelda sighed and snuggled close.
"I'm tired of my wretched life in Rowling's books. I hope I played my part adequately, and there are difficulties in our story too, but I can always come back to you in our story," he said. "We shag constantly and you think I'm wonderful there. Did I mention that you make me laugh?"
"I think you're wonderful here too," she said, smoothing the crease between his brows and kissing him.
Snape realized he had much more exploring to do in order to learn every inch of her, so he kissed her mouth and then began kissing his way down her body. He lingered blissfully over those lush breasts for a long time.
"I wonder how we can go to your story," he said softly. "I don't want to be trapped here forever, forced to endure a hundred versions of who I am with endless partners. I want to live out my fictional life with you."
He raised himself and she slipped beneath him, a luminous smile glowing in her eyes. Their bodies came together as they opened their feelings for each other using Legilimency. Snape concentrated on her pleasure, realizing that she was doing the same for him. They climaxed at the same moment and lay in each other's arms afterward, simply looking at each other.
"I won't leave this room without you," he said. "I won't risk losing you."
"Okay. But you mentioned a bathroom and I think shortly I'll need to use it," she said.
"Awkward," he said lightly. "Sorry if I offend, but I don't dare to let you leave a room without me."
"We ain't nothin' but mammals," she quoted cynically. "I've had kids, so privacy is something I can manage without."
She kissed his cheek, stroking his hair with a tender hand.
"Even if I never see you after this, I want to remember," she said softly. "You're amazing."
"You'll see me," he snapped. "Every day in our story."
"We don't know how or why we're here," she said practically. "I hate feeling out of control. I want to be with you, but if something happens, I want you to know that I love you and I'll always think of you."
His eyes narrowed and he scowled, feeling like a spoilt child whose new toy was being ripped from his hands.
"We'll stay together," he snapped. "Now, put on your sheet and let's go to the bathroom."
Moving between rooms was when changes occurred, and he was determined to keep her with him. They stood up and he was pleased to notice that she was a perfect height for him. The top of her curly head touched his nose when he hugged her.
"Hold on tight to me when we go through the doorway," he told her, putting his arm firmly around her waist.
"You worry a lot, I see," she commented, putting her arm around him.
"Constantly," he replied. "I don't understand what magic this is, so I'll take no chances."
They turned the door handle together and walked through. A thin, elegant witch, also wearing a white sheet, looked up from reading a manuscript.
"Severus!" said Aurora Sinistra. "What is this place? Have you read these stories? Who is that witch?"
"Professor Sinistra," he said, nodding formally. "I haven't read them, but I have some idea what they are. I'm not interested. Please excuse me."
He kept a firm grip on Zelda and steered her toward the other door. Mercifully it was still a bathroom, but still a rather small one. He tactfully moved to the back of the room and turned his back.
Zelda sighed with relief as she peed. It might be embarrassing, having him listen, but she was also curious about the woman.
"Who was that?" she asked.
"A colleague, Professor Aurora Sinistra. She never had the slightest interest in me during the years we've taught together."
Zelda finished and went to wash her hands, staring into the mirror.
"People must have written stories about you falling for her too," she mused. "She's beautiful, in a haughty way. How popular are those Harry Potter books, I wonder? It seems like a lot of people are into this stuff and definitely fascinated by you."
He turned around and saw her gazing at her reflection thoughtfully. She touched the wrinkles at the corner of her eye, sighing faintly as he came to stand behind her. The bitter lines on his harsh face told more about him than any words, when contrasted with her mobile mouth, so ready to smile.
"Are you that insecure?" asked Severus curiously.
"You don't know much about women if you have to ask that," she told him cynically.
"Zelda, not a single woman at Hogwarts, no woman alive attracts me but you," he said.
She looked up at him thoughtfully, saying nothing for a few minutes. "Is there a woman who's no longer alive?" she asked slowly.
He nodded, feeling oddly guilty. "Lily Evans. Harry Potter's mother."
"Ah, Severus," she murmured gently. "You do have a definite Gothic hero thing going, now that you mention it. I never thought I'd meet anyone like you, much less fling myself into your arms."
"Thank you," he said. "Fling as much as you wish, since nothing could please me more."
"Is that woman still going to be out there?"
"She may be, or it may be something else. Stay close," he told her, putting his arm around her and feeling her arm around his waist.
They opened the door together again and stepped into a massive room the size of a small cathedral. Mountains of manuscripts were piled around them and Severus had never seen the radiant young witch who stood before them.
"Who the hell are you?" Zelda asked coldly.
"Mary Sue," she replied. "His soul mate and alchemy partner."
"I doubt the former and I have no alchemy partner," snarled Severus. "Excuse us, we're leaving."
He steered Zelda toward the door, hoping for peace, but another young woman was blocking their path.
"Did you know I'm the most magically powerful sorceress of my year at the Salem Academy of Witchcraft. I'm well versed in the Kama Sutra and I hunger to bear your children, Sevvie," she said, licking her full lips seductively. "My animagus form is a tigress."
Zelda frowned, looking like she wanted to smack that smug little girl, but without a word, Severus turned and they began hustling in the other direction.
"We're getting out of here," he hissed, tightening his arm around her waist.
"Severus," called a bosomy witch dressed in practically nothing. "Be my master, mighty Dark wizard. Dominate me."
A snarl escaped him and they turned yet again. There was a door far ahead of them, so they rushed through it and found someone waiting there. Severus froze.
"Sev, do you remember me?" said a slender, red-haired young woman.
He recognized her; in fact he'd recognize her anywhere. His only friend, she was the reason for his everything he'd done. Lily was no longer a girl; in fact she'd never actually lived to be this old. About twenty-five, he estimated. Her green eyes sparkled with fun and his throat grew tight.
"Lily," he said hoarsely. "You're dead."
She gestured to a pile of stories by her side. "Not in these. We were always such good friends, Sev. We'll be together and be happy in one of these. I'll love only you from now on."
Finally it had come, the fantasy he'd lived with for most of his life. She was lovely, her long hair falling down over her shoulders and wisdom glowing in her eyes. He tried to remember that she was another fictional character, but she looked as real as he was, his beautiful Lily.
"What about Potter? You said you loved him and you chose to marry him," he said weakly. "You never loved me."
"What do you want me to tell you?" asked Lily compassionately.
"The truth," snapped Zelda hoarsely. "Not what those stories say, but tell him why you married Potter."
Snape had forgotten Zelda, even as he held her against his side. He looked down at her. She was much older than Lily and couldn't match her flawless loveliness. Besides, he'd done everything, all of it, for Lily. He sighed regretfully. Zelda was a good woman, but Lily was the one he'd always wanted. His arm fell from her waist and she disappeared as Lily began to speak.
"I married James because I loved him and we were right for each other. I know he was unkind to you, Sev, but you understand, don't you?" asked Lily. "He was… I belong with him. He and Harry and I are a family."
A chill descended on Snape and he realized that in this confusing place she had told him the exact truth. Lily Evans had been his friend. She'd never completely stopped caring about him in spite of her boyfriend's vicious behavior toward him. But she'd chosen Potter over him even after he'd choked up the courage to tell her that he loved her, something they'd both always known. That was truth.
"Thank you, Lily," he murmured, thinking that she was more beautiful than he remembered, but she wasn't for him. Of course, in a story, perhaps he'd forget the truth and be happy, or perhaps the specter of James Potter would hover around in the corners of his mind, reminding him that Lily had not truly chosen him. In a life where human relationships had been consistently painful, there was a cold beauty to truth. He looked once more into those green eyes.
"I loved you, Lily. I'll always remember you and care about you, but you chose to marry Potter, so he was the one that was right for you. I'm sorry for everything that happened. I tried to protect your son. Goodbye."
He took a last look at the face that had haunted his dreams and then walked slowly away. It took several minutes to process what he'd just done. He'd turned down the chance to live with and love Lily Potter… Evans, he thought too late. And there was the rub. In the world they'd shared, she had chosen his enemy. That was truth. He opened the door before him and strode through.
Remus Lupin stood there, next to a large heap of parchments. A weak smile was on his face. Snape recoiled in utter disgust.
"No! Absolutely no way in hell! What kind of sick morons write this fucking rubbish? Drink your Wolfsbane, Lupin, and stay away from me."
He turned and raced back through the door, not wanting to hear the werewolf's voice. Sirius Black stood sneering before him and Snape wheeled and leaped back through the door, his heart pounding.
Where was she? He realized that Zelda's last act before leaving him was to compel Lily to be honest with him. He'd been beyond asking it, although he valued honesty above all.
The room he had entered was empty. He closed the door and leaned against it. There were too many people he never wanted to see again in this accursed place. But there was one small, sweet woman he needed to find and he knew he must have hurt her. He looked around, and then adamantly he spoke.
"I've seen enough. I was told to choose, so I choose Zelda. But I must apologize to her before anything changes."
A faint movement of air seemed to indicate that he'd been heard. He walked deliberately to the other door and opened it, flinching slightly. But Zelda was sitting on a sagging old couch and looked up when he entered the room. He gazed into her eyes.
"I'm sorry I let go," he said slowly. "I never expected… I never imagined… I'd loved her dearly since I was very young, and I was the cause of her death. I never got over it. But you had the sense to tell her to be honest and she was. She never really loved me except as a friend. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she said calmly.
Snape realized that her eyes were red and suspiciously moist. He knelt before her.
"I want to be with you."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm a flawed, wretched disaster of a wizard, who deserved to die in Rowling's book. But I want you more than I can say."
Their eyes met and she nodded slowly, holding out her hand to him. He took it and kissed it, then rose and sat down next to her.
"Thank you," he said gravely. "Come here, my love."
He gathered her close and rubbed his cheek against hers, groaning with relief when she hugged his neck. He lay back, holding her on top of him.
"Now we wait," he told her. "I won't leave you again."
He kissed her nose and her lips, drawing a slight smile from her.
"It's time for something new," he said. "So many of my choices caused misery and catastrophes. I hope to do better with you."
"I don't want you to regret anything," she said seriously.
He settled her next to him so they could look in each other's eyes.
"No regrets. Having seen Lily here, I understand myself better. What I can have with you is truly ours, untainted by my miserable past."
She yawned and smiled. "Sorry to be so unromantic, but this has been really exhausting."
"For me too," he murmured. "I've experienced too many appalling shocks, beginning by almost dying. If we go to sleep now, I wonder if we'll be taken from here to our own story together."
Zelda slipped her arm around his waist and nuzzled against his cheek.
"I'd love that," she told him. "If and when it happens, do you think we'll remember this time?"
"Probably not, but I wish I could remember seducing you against your excellent judgment. I enjoyed it enormously."
"So did I. You're a pretty smooth guy, Professor Snape. If we're in that story together, I hope I'll have the chance to work on my blow job technique," she said, her eyes twinkling.
His black eyes glittered and he said, "Don't worry, we'll be at each other constantly. But kiss me now and then I hope we'll wake up in your house and I can have a real life, a home and you, Zelda."
They fell asleep slowly, holding tight to each other and filled with hope.
The woman seated in the desk chair paused in her typing and stretched. It had been a busy day, what with snatching a half-dead wizard from a brilliant writer's story and giving him a chance for a ridiculous happy ending.
The story called What Now, Severus? was made obsolete by the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Rightfully so, since almost the whole lot belonged to J.K. Rowling. But it still had a use. While there was drama in that frivolous fan fic, it was also a pleasant place for a bitter, sexy wizard to retreat for some well-deserved happiness.
The woman opened a new document and began typing.
Dear Ms. Rowling,
I'm writing in case you notice that Professor Snape no longer exists in your story, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. He is, as you've said, a gift of a character, a gift you've given to all of us. It seems that everyone, you, me, and all your fans got the enjoyment, but Professor Snape had a rotten bloody time of it. I doubt anyone will notice that his grave is actually empty, but I thought it only courteous to inform you that he's chosen to take up residence in another story, where he can live in comfortable obscurity, shagging his absurd wife disgracefully often, raising his children and finally getting the respect he's always craved. Not to mention the love.
The sheer gall of my snatching him away and making him this offer, as well as letting Zelda have the first crack at him, makes me squirm a little. But… what the hell, right?
Congrats on your amazing achievement. You're a freaking genius and in my wildest dreams I couldn't be 1/100 as brilliant as you are.
If you wish to contact Professor Snape, send him an owl. He lives in Scotland, like you, not far from Hogwarts.
Impudently yours, yet with the sense to be embarrassed by it,
Emilie D. Larsson
She reread her letter, wondering if she should send it. Shrugging, she saved the document and then smiled as she shut down her computer. In the ultimate Muggle magic, this was all that was needed to send Professor Snape to his well-deserved, sex-filled happy ending.
"Have fun, Severus," she said gently.
The End