Snape in a Bottle ~ Editing

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 1 ~ Wishful Thinking Does Wonders

Terese Elderberry sighed, sat back and lit a cigarette, inhaling, then exhaling luxuriously as she stared at the computer screen. The thirty-something brownish/blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman let out a long sigh and took a sip of red wine.

“Damn, that was good,” she breathed, “Too bad its over. Now what am I going to read?”

Terese was like many other women who had discovered Harry Potter Adult Fanfiction. She had developed a thing for a snarky, sexy, dark fictional character named Severus Snape, every secret masochist’s dream lover. Terese was especially drawn to the pairings of Snape with Hermione Granger, because she resembled the witch to some extent. At five-three in her stocking-feet and curvy, with shoulder length hair, she was close enough to insert herself into the steamy sex scenes without too much a stretch of the imagination. True, she did have a few freckles on her nose, but she had a feeling Severus wouldn’t mind those at all.

His focus wouldn’t be on her nose.

Terese sighed again. She was a happily married woman and had been so for the past eleven years. She was one of those freethinkers who kept her own last name, and Val didn’t mind a bit. She loved her husband Val very much…it was just that they were so comfortable together, like old shoes. There was passion when they made love, but still…the idea of the tall, pale dark-eyed wizard curled her toes. There was nothing wrong with a little bit of fantasy was there?

God, she wished there really was a Hogwarts.

And a Severus Snape.

For the past several months, Terese had been wishing that same wish nightly, particularly when reading some steamy scene where the well-hung wizard was buried balls deep in some lucky, screaming, orgasming witch, those dark eyes focused and smoldering as he selfishly took his fill.

Once again, the woman sighed and looked up at the time. It was almost midnight, and Val was already in bed, asleep. Teresa felt a bit randy after the sizzling ending to the last fic she read, but once Val was asleep, he hated being woken up and most likely wouldn’t be very cooperative.

“Not now, Terese," he'd groan, rolling over and snuggling into the sheets.

Like most couples, over the years their passion fell into a strong sense of friendship and companionship, which was important to any stable relationship, and sex, though good was infrequent now. Something they did when neither was too tired, an act that fostered a sense of closeness and appreciation coupled with good feelings and affection. They were glad for each other and their moments of intimacy reflected that. It wasn’t a bad way to live really. Teresa just missed the fire. God, how she had loved the fire.

She stood up and stretched, wrapping her silk robe around herself and walking over to the window to look up at the moon. It seemed extremely large tonight, almost close enough to touch. It was Mayday, and the night was warm and close.

Again, Terese found herself wishing that there really was a dark, lank-haired, big-nosed wizard with dark piercing eyes and a voice of silk named Severus Snape that she could lose herself in just one time.

As she thought this, Terese suddenly saw a bright streak of light fall from the sky, crossing the face of the moon, reappearing on the other side then streaking towards the earth.

“Meteor,” she thought, then turned and walked toward the bedroom.

Val was stretched out over the entire bed, his long limbs extended and mouth open, snoring. He was only dressed in his striped pajama bottoms, and Terese’s blue eyes swept over his lean frame. He was built much like she imagined Severus was built. After eleven years he was still in good shape and still aroused her. But again, time had made passion…comfortable.

Still she was randy.

“Val,” she said softly, “Val, wake up.”

Val groaned, his face frowning up as it did when he didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Not now, Terese,” he said.

Terese frowned down at him as she removed her robe and rested it on the chair. Underneath she wore a short white nightie.

“Move over you big lug,” she hissed at him, then pushed at his body with her small hands.

Val grunted and lay there like a stone.

“Move over!” Terese said again, pinching his side.

“Ow!” her husband yelled, opening his bloodshot eyes and looking at his angry wife, who had her hands on her hips.

Now, if Val were Severus, he would probably have yanked her into the bed, pulled up her nightie and fucked her within an inch of her life for waking him in such a manner. But Val was just…Val.

“You could have just asked me to move over,” he grumped, rolling to his side of the bed and falling still. He was asleep again.

Terese rolled her eyes and slid into the bed beside her husband, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling, her hands resting on her belly. She closed her eyes and after several minutes, fell asleep.

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Terese tossed and turned, feeling a chill. Her eyes still closed she reached for the covers, thinking Val had made his usual selfish cocoon of them. Her hand came in contact with something soft and high. She opened her eyes and looked at a green velvet wall in front of her face.

“What the…?” she began, sitting up then shrieking as she tumbled to the floor. A very hard, cold floor.

“Ouch,” she hissed as she scrambled up. She had fallen off of a couch.

A couch in her bedroom?

The woman looked around, her eyes wide as saucers as she took in a huge, medieval-like study, almost every wall surface covered by shelf after shelf of books. There was a wall made of stone with a fireplace big enough to walk through. Only a small fire burned in it however. Two armchairs separated by an end table rested in front of the fireplace, and in the far corner was a large ornate writing desk, with ink bottles and long feathered quills in a round container. Rolls of parchment rested on it. Next to the desk was a cabinet with a glass front. She could see it contained liquor bottles and glasses.

A cold feeling shot through her belly. She knew this place. She had read about it so much she knew it by heart. She looked above the fireplace. A huge crest hung there, a silver serpent resting against a green field. Terese brought her hand to her mouth.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, blinking up at the familiar design. “I must be dreaming. I have to be.”

Suddenly she heard a sliding sound and spun quickly. She didn’t know what to do as the wall slid up. Dream or not, she was scared to death.

Terese unconsciously subscribed to the adage of cowards everywhere.

When in doubt…hide.

She ducked behind the couch, peering out from the side.

A tall wizard strode into the study, his pale face in a book. His hair looked rather lank and greasy and he was dressed in somber black robes that billowed as he walked. He moved easily and strongly, like a big cat. He walked over to the writing desk, pulled out the chair and sat down, still studying the book in his hand.

Terese couldn’t believe it. She was looking at Severus. Severus Snape, the dour Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She felt a strong pulse of fear in her belly. It was one thing to fantasize about the wizard…another thing to see him in the flesh.

If he were anything like the stories, he would not be happy to find her in his rooms. He might even hex her first and ask questions later, questions she’d be hard put to answer.

Shit. She had to get out of here.

As Severus read, he began to get the feeling he wasn’t alone. Serving as a spy for all those years had made the wizard develop a kind of sixth sense. Slowly, he reached in his pocket and drew his wand, his dark eyes scanning his study over the top of the book.

Suddenly he leaped to his feet, aiming his wand directly at the couch.

“Come out if you want to live!” he snarled, swooping around the desk and approaching the couch, a deadly look in his eyes. “Slowly, I warn you!”

Trembling, Terese stood up slowly, her blue eyes wide with fear as she looked at the wizard.

The Potions Master’s black eyes widened in surprise as he saw the petite, scantily clad woman rise from behind his couch. His eyes washed over her curves for a moment.

“Throw me your wand, witch. End first,” he seethed.

Terese blinked at him.

“I…I…don’t have a wand,” she said in a small voice.

“Don’t lie to me. I’ve killed witches as well as wizards,” Severus growled.

Tears began to fall from Terese’s eyes. Severus Snape was going to kill her.

“I’m not a witch….I’m…I’m just a woman,” she sobbed.

Severus’ brow furrowed, then he said an incantation and waved his wand at her. Terese felt a warmth wash over her for a moment, then it was gone.

Severus looked at her…then put his wand away.

“You are a muggle,” he said, “A very scantily clad muggle. What are you doing in my rooms and how did you get into Hogwarts? We have protections against non-magical individuals.”

“I don’t know. I woke up and I was here. I was home in my bed asleep,” Terese replied, sniffling as her tears subsided.

Severus’ dark eyes washed over her again. That certainly was a very short nightie.

“Sit down on the couch,” he ordered.

Terese moved to the couch and sat down, her legs pressed together. She looked at the wizard. He really did look like Alan Rickman, but when he was much younger. Mid-thirties. She shivered as his black eyes rested on her coldly.

“What is your name?” he asked, approaching her.

“Terese,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as the wizard stood over her, scowling.

“I need to know how you got here, Terese. Then I’ll know what to do with you,” he said, his voice just as silky and rich as his counterpart in the Harry Potter films.

Severus sat down next to the woman, noticing her tremble at his proximity. It didn’t seem to be completely fear-inspired either. With his sensitive nose, he could smell the faint scent of female arousal. Hm.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Terese said, unable to believe she was in the study of the wizard of her fantasies and he was sitting next to her on a couch while she was only dressed in her panties and a short nightie. God, if he touched her, she’d melt into a gooey, orgasming puddle of muggle.

“I don’t need you to tell me anything,” he replied, leaning a bit closer.

“Legilimens,” he breathed.

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A/N: Okay, this is a palate cleansing story about a woman experiencing a fantasy involving fan fic’s Severus Snape, though the story is not completely about Severus. It shouldn’t be long…and you hardcore SS/HG readers hold on for a little bit. This won’t be that long. :) Thanks.