Another Kind Of Magic - A Severus Snape Fanfiction

Dreaming of Reality

She was falling. Endless darkness welcomed her, spreading its wings like a vulture, ready to stoop down on its prey. Lena wasn't scared anymore as her mind began to travel the spheres of discarnate existence.

She was dreaming.

She dreamt of deep, snowy forests; pale moonlight flooded through the leafless treetops that stretched high above her head, making the heavy layer of white ice crystals glisten mysteriously. It was so quiet. So peaceful. As if the entire world laid in leaden slumber, awaiting in hushed anticipation the rebirth of the sun that would breathe new life into the barren land around her.

Lena felt so light, like a feather in the cold winter breeze that kissed her cheeks, floating on its strong current, which pulled her away, far away from the dark confinement of the moldy cellar. She was aware that her feet didn't touch the frozen forest floor, she was absolutely still, and yet, she kept drifting farther and farther into the woods.

Then, the sound of a small branch breaking underneath someone's step made her look up.

Professor Snape.

Lena wasn't surprised at all. Of course she would dream of him. She always did. Finding herself in the arms of the man she loved was really nothing out of the ordinary; at least, not when her soul was wandering the realms of imagination.

Completely content, enclosed by his body's comfortable warmth, she snuggled against his hard chest, letting her hand rest on his shoulder. She gently played with the smooth fabric of his robe as he silently carried her through the forest.

Please, let this last, she thought. If death presents me with the illusion of being with him, I do not mind dying.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arm around his neck to feel him even closer.

The dream professor inhaled audibly at her touch, and for the shortest moment, Lena felt his muscles strain beneath her skin. She smiled, nestling her head into the inviting curve of his neck.

Lena wished she could tell her professor how deeply she regretted the incident with the necklace. She wanted him to know that she had not planned this, that she hadn't deceived him, and that she truly had longed for his kisses. A wave of sadness and hopelessness rolled over her at the realization that she would never get the chance to explain it to him. She would part from this world with him believing she hadn't been sincere, that she had only led him on. But there was another option. If she couldn't tell him in real life, then at least, she could tell the dream Potions Master.

Her voice was nothing more than a whisper when she began to confess. I know what you must think of me. And I am so sorry, Professor. I am not sure why the necklace did what it did. To be honest, I don't even know what kind of magic it possesses. I got it in Hogsmeade, at Dervish & Banges. A witch gave it to me. She said I was supposed to have it. Ever since, I have been trying to discover its secret. Obviously, I haven't been very successful. The only thing I managed to achieve was to push you away from me. I wish I could undo it. It is too late now, but if I had the chance, just one more chance to make it up, I would do it. Dancing with you, touching you, hearing your beautiful voice say my name was the most wonderful thing that has happened in my life. I didn't have to fantasize about it anymore, it was real. You kissed me. I would give anything to feel you like this again. I love you, Professor. I have for so long, and I will always love you. Even in death, you are the one my mind sends to comfort me on the way to the other side. I don't want this to end, I want to stay in your arms forever. I love you so much, Professor Snape.

Dream Severus didn't respond. He remained absolutely quiet as his feet struggled to find steady ground underneath the snowy mantle.

Why didn't he say anything? It was her dream, her illusion, why didn't her brain come up with a good, comforting reply for him that would lay her worries to rest?

Confused, Lena lifted her head to look at him. He firmly stared at the horizon, not meeting her gaze. His lips were pressed tightly together, hot breath leaving his nostrils in small hazy clouds. But there, in the corner of his eye, a lonely tear began to form, and when he blinked, it slowly made its way down his cheek.

Finally, he forced out a response. "You are not going to die. Not tonight. Not if I can help it."