This collection of fanfic features flights of fancy: some lightly erotic, some humorous. There's even a bit of PWP thrown in the mix, although all the stories, in their own way, deal with things left unsaid.
Summary: Snape and Dumbledore with just a hint of slash...
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He Knows Nothing of Love
He never hesitates to help me, but I'm almost embarrassed to ask him this time. It's a special brew, you see, and he's been so terribly busy. Still, I've lain awake too many nights, staring down the dark with too many thoughts vying for my attention, too many terrible memories...
Finally, I asked him if he'd take time away from his other projects--important projects--and brew it. Nothing else I've tried seems to work for me.
Of course, he said he would. He never refuses me, but I find myself stifling a chuckle whenever he agrees. He always looks so terribly serious!
He also refuses to share his recipe.
Perhaps that's why it works so well. A wizard imprints himself upon everything he makes. In every incantation, every potion, a little piece of his essence remains. But spells and potions are never created for the sake of themselves, and sometimes, through this injection of intention or intense emotion, the creation takes on a life force of its own. That is what truly great magic is.
He never puts it in a phial either, always a glass. A goblet he hands to me with the slightest hint of a smile. 'Here, Professor, this will help you sleep.' I raise a toast to rest and drain it in a single draught. It looks like mercury but tastes like honey.
I crawl into my bed of nails, stare at the ceiling, and pray for release. Soon, my lids are leaden, and soft warmth steals over me. It's so pleasant, so comforting, even when I realize I can no longer feel my feet. Ah, Severus, you've outdone yourself this time, I think, just before the mattress melts beneath me...
Everything was blue, the streaming moonlight, the sighing wind, even the mist floating among the trees. Blue, the color of time curling back upon itself, suspended in perfect peace.
The shadows parted like a curtain and Severus appeared. As he floated slowly towards me, his bare feet, brushing the tips of the long grass, left a trail of sparks.
He plucked a star from the sky and held it to my lips. 'Taste,' he said, and when I did, he took the other half of that light, his lips strong and warm against my own.
And I was his then, his and gone. The ground vanished beneath me, though we were standing still. So close, I felt the fey universe resound through us like a bell.
I swallowed and the star went out. Breaking our kiss, he gazed into my eyes and I felt my heart open, wide as eternity.
'Never speak of this to anyone,' he whispered.
As I murmured yes, I saw his tears and tasted iron in my mouth. And I knew what no one else knew, would ever know: that his sorrow was as constant as his shadow, that he would always be alone.
I wished I had not made my wordless promise.
He disappeared and left a hole inside my heart.
I awoke, still clinging to the shreds of the dream, desperate to fling myself from bed to my pensieve. I wasn't really breaking a promise, I reasoned, merely extracting a memory for safekeeping. Besides, what weight has an oath sworn in a dream?
The moment my feet touched the floor, a curious lightness seized me. The room began spinning, and a white hot bolt of pain exploded behind my eyes. The flagstones lurched, and as I fell forward, just before darkness swallowed me, I heard his voice:
'A promise is a promise, Albus...'
Lately, I've been having trouble sleeping. He never hesitates to help me...
