Chapter one – " Professor Snape, potions master"
"That will be fifteen points from Gryffindor, Potter. That should teach you not to waste the ingredients I have supplied." Snape said stonily to an arrogant young boy with messy black hair and defiant green eyes.
Honestly, despite feeling a certain impulsive dislike for the boy, the dreaming Snape never quite understood why his wizard alter ego was so harsh on him. He certainly wasn't as wasteful as the two thuggish boys named Goyle and, what was it, Crabbe?
He always was somewhat surprised to see that his subconscious world of magic, in which he taught potions at a school named Hogwarts, seemed to contain a certain fictitious son of Lucius', whose name appeared to be Draco. 'Funny,' he thought ' that would be the kind of pretentious name Narcissa and Lucius would choose. But it looks like they never will have children…'
At the end of the lesson, as before in his drug-induced ultra-realistic hallucinations, Snape cleaned up what the students had missed, by waving his wand and speaking incantations that came quite naturally. He then would do some research, poring over magnificent and sometimes quite sinister leather bound books, of the size of paving slabs. This was indeed one of Snape's greatest fantasies, seeing as there had been hardly any books made, since the Blackout.
When it was time for wizard-Snape to retire to bed, and sleeping Severus wasn't surprised to see that he didn't do this until quite late, there was always the fascinating moment when he would face the mirror. For some reason he couldn't fathom, this version of himself looked as though he was in his mid-thirties, a whole decade older. The other, secretly satisfying thing, was that the wizard didn't seem to spend too much time on personal vanity or hygiene. This must also have been a very deep seated desire of his, given that he was constantly surrounded by either the sterile environment of the lab, or his artificial-intelligence monitored flat, which was immaculate. Not to speak of the strict hygiene and appearance guidelines everyone had to follow.
In an uncharacteristic moment of impulsiveness, Snape threw himself on his sturdy but rather ugly antique oak bed. He lay there for a while before turning over and taking a small bottle of sleeping potion from the bedside table and sipping some. Sweet oblivion. There was blackness for a while, and both Snapes were enjoying dreamless rest.
The next morning, Snape got up and had breakfast in the great hall at the staff table, as usual. He rarely talked to anyone, but had to constantly endure the babble of young professor Quirrel, whom he disliked for having gotten the job he had wanted. The man was a nervous and somewhat naïve fool in his opinion, and he could not quite understand why he had the idea that they had anything in common.
Then back to the dungeons for more lessons. Here was the thing that he probably enjoyed the most, namely brewing potions. He found a familiar kind of trancelike satisfaction that he couldn't quite place, but remembered from real life.
The next day, Monday, Snape woke up. The IV bag was nearly empty, and he felt his stomach grumble painfully. He got up slowly, having long since learned that he tended to faint if he solicited his body too quickly.
He dragged himself to the kitchen, wishing as he usually did on returning from the "wizarding world" that wands really did exist and the he wouldn't in fact have to make his food from scratch, because of how long it took and how hungry he was.
The walls of his flat had gone to a neutral cream colour, but sensing that he felt rather good this morning, they gradually turned sunny yellow.
While eating, he enjoyed the slightly greasy feel of his hair, which was considerably shorter than his alter ego's and the heaviness of the black kaftan, not unlike the robes his potion-brewing self wore. He wished he could hold on to these few details a little longer in the real world.
Knowing this to be prohibited, he eventually headed towards the bathroom, passing Narcissa. He murmured a croaky "Hello" and went on to get clean.
Narcissa was Malfoy's wife. Though at present, it was only her body he was talking to. She was in Snape's spare room, encased in thinly sliced alabaster with a quartz top panel, so as to be able to be seen if she should show any signs of life, other than breathing. This was one reason for Lucius' visits, the other being the replenishing of Snape's rapidly consumed stock of Lovex.
It was, in fact, an exchange. Lucius paid Snape, or Severus as he insisted on calling him, to research the possibilities of waking Narcissa. It appeared that, though she seemed on the exterior to be comatose, she showed almost no brain activity, despite being quite healthy otherwise. Lucius explained that she had fallen into this state after Riddle had given her his new drug called "Bliss". She has been the first ever to try it.
"The strange thing is" Lucius had said, brandishing the remains of his fifth glass of wine "that Riddle, or Voldemort as he prefers us to call him, didn't really act that surprised. I mean, he hardly ever shows any sign of emotion, but this was really weird."
Two years later, Narcissa had pretty much become part of the furniture "chez Snape" and Lucius kept urging him to have a little fun with some ladyfriends of his.
"I have plenty of fun thanks to you, Malfoy. I'm afraid I don't wish to depend even more on you where my freetime is concerned." Snape had answered curtly after the Nth proposal to meet a certain "Sheila".
"Come on, Severus, Lovex is good, sure, but you can't just dream your life away. And when's the last time you enjoyed a little friction of the more exciting kind that wasn't solitary?" Lucius sneered.
"Answering that is beneath me, and in any case, I would rather not "rub" in any way with someone called Sheila. Sounds like a cat litter brand to me." Snape replied disdainfully.
"She'd be furious if I told her that. Actually, I just might, for a laugh."
Coming out of the bathroom, Snape paused to look at Narcissa for a while. Would she even mind if she knew her husband was being adulterous? Somehow, the Malfoys had never seemed a particularly conservative couple to Snape, who was surprised that they had married so young in the first place.
He admired the long white blonde hair on either side of the pale face. What colour had her eyes been? He couldn't remember. He could vaguely recall though, that if he had ever been attracted to anyone, it was certainly her. Of course he had never really acknowledged this and hadn't worked out what the feeling was until about six months into her lethargy. On the whole, Lucius said that he emitted a generally asexual vibe. This didn't affect Snape as Lucius intended, for he was quite indifferent to this piece of information. That just meant one fewer weakness.