Dreams In Time

TITLE: Dreams In Time
AUTHOR: Casey Snape
PAIRING: Snarry
RATING: NC-17
FEEDBACK: caseysnape@yahoo.com
DISCLAIMER: The characters and concepts in the following story do not belong to me. I just like to play with them and make them do naughty things to each other. They are the property of JKR, all of her assignees, yada yada yada, so on and so forth, BUT if she ever wants to get rid of Sev, well, I’ve got first dibs.
SUMMARY: Dreams are just the product of an overactive imagination, right? Sometimes, dreams are a link to things what we want, what we need. What happens when what we want and what we need threatens the safety of the Wizarding World?
WARNINGS: OTP & HBP never happened. AU. Time Travel / MPreg / Graphic Sex / Rimming 

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Harry lifted his face to meet the man’s mouth as it descended onto his. The tip of a warm, supple tongue ran between his lips, parted them, and softly explored the hot cavern of his mouth. Harry wound his arms around his neck, hands tangling in long, dark hair. He slid his tongue slowly over the other man’s. A hand cupped the back of his head, while the other arm wrapped gently around Harry’s waist, pulling him closer. Harry could feel the heat of an erection pressing into his hip. The man groaned, a low, seductive, sound, as Harry dragged his teeth over his lower lip.

His lover moaned. “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded in response as he lowered his mouth to the pale neck and bit down sharply on the soft flesh. He hissed and grabbed Harry’s hips, crushing them against his. His mouth found Harry’s again and began a brutal assault on the soft lips. Harry whimpered as his tongue was suckled and caressed. Suddenly, the kiss was broken and Harry was gently pushed back onto the bed.

“We need to get rid of these.” The man’s steel and honey voice dripped over him as he pulled Harry’s boxers off. That wonderful mouth started working its way down to Harry’s chest, biting and sucking his nipples, dipping the tongue into his naval. Lower still, Harry felt a warm breath on his achingly hard cock. Harry arched into the sensation, giddy with anticipation. Harry moaned. The man’s tongue grazed over the head of Harry’s cock. Harry thrust his hips forward, desperate for more. Long fingers caressed him skillfully. Suddenly, the wet heat of the man’s mouth engulfed him. It took every bit of concentration Harry could gather in order to keep from coming. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to make this incredible feeling last even a little longer. His treacherous eyes would not cooperate. He could not resist watching himself moving in and out of that talented mouth. His hand moved down and clenched the man’s hair, willing him to go faster. Hands began stroking Harry’s balls, teasing the sensitive spot behind them. A long, elegant finger pushed in the puckered entrance slightly. Harry cried out as he bucked into the man’s mouth. Sheer pleasure poured through him as he came powerfully in that brilliant mouth. The mouth sucked at him, making sure not to miss a drop of Harry’s seed. Finally, his spent prick was released, and those tender lips brushed against his softly.
Harry couldn’t resist. He ran his tongue over those lips, begging for entrance. The lips parted and Harry moaned as he tasted himself on the other’s tongue. “I need to make love to you. " It was almost a growl, low, seductive, saturated with sex. Harry’s desire came back at full force with these words. “Yes.” Harry gasped.
He reached over and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, poured some on his hand and set the bottle back on the bedside table. He leaned over Harry, kissing him gently as his hand found Harry’s entrance once again. “Relax,” he instructed, and slowly began to slide one finger inside. Harry arched up off the bed and moaned. The hand stilled, letting him adjust to the feeling. Slowly, he began to move his hand again, twisting his finger slightly to hit the little pleasure spot deep inside of Harry. Harry cried out. The finger pulled out only long enough to add a second finger and push back in, still angling to hit Harry’s prostate. He slowly started scissoring his fingers, stretching Harry’s opening as much as he could. He was about to add a third finger when Harry’s hand caught his wrist. He looked up into deep green eyes, darkened with desire. “Now! Please! I can’t wait any longer.”
His lover replied by taking the bottle from the table again. He poured more of the liquid onto his hand and slowly coated his hard shaft. The man positioned his cock at Harry’s entrance. "Tell me. Tell me what you want," he commanded, voice hoarse with desire.
"Sweet Merlin! Take Me!" cried Harry, desperately. "I need you to fuck me hard!" He could feel the pressure of the cock pushing against him, and his only thought was having that wondrous shaft buried deep inside him. The man moaned, and pushed, sliding gradually, carefully, into Harry. He tried to go slow; the boy was so tight, so hot, and he was dangerously close. He gasped for breath as he gripped the boy's hips, willing himself to stay still for just a moment longer.

"Yes. Please," Harry hissed as he tried to get his lover to start moving.

The tight body gripped him, and he had no choice but to move. He wanted this to last, but it was impossible with that heat clenching around his erection. Soon, he was pounding into Harry. Over and over, he couldn’t get enough. He vaguely remembered to take Harry’s renewed erection in his hand and stroke it. “YES!” Harry screamed. The sound of Harry’s voice screaming in ecstasy drove him over the edge. With a fiercely possessive growl and one last brutal thrust, the man claimed Harry as his. Harry followed, crying his lover’s name as his release flooded the space between them.

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Harry woke up with a start. He looked down. Wonderful. His pajamas and sheets were soaked. A quick glance around assured him that his silencing spells were effective. No one looked like they heard anything. That was really good. He really didn’t want to know what his dorm mates would do if they knew he was having such intensely wet dreams. Especially about him! It was not just anybody. It was the incredibly sexy man that Harry desired beyond all reason, beyond all hope: Professor Severus Alexander Snape

He had gotten to know Snape better during his sixth year and the summer after while fighting against Voldemort. They had spent countless hours together, strategizing, learning new spells, trying to find a way to beat the demon. Then, finally, two months ago, Voldemort was killed. It took all three of them to do it – Harry, Snape, and Professor Dumbledore. After that, Professor Dumbledore had sent Harry and Professor Snape away for a few weeks while they rounded up the rest of the Death Eaters.

The boys in the dorm knew that Harry did not seem interested in girls. They had even tried fixing him up with some of the other boys at school, but nothing seemed to work out. The time he spent locked away with Professor Snape made Harry realize that his attraction wasn’t just to men in general. He was actually attracted to only one man. None of the guys in school did anything for him. Sure, they were good looking, but none of them made his blood burn with desire when they looked at him. And that was exactly what happened whenever Severus Snape looked at Harry. He had finally told his friends that he wasn’t interested, that he was kind of involved with a guy from back home. When pressed for a name, Harry would just give a half smile and gaze off into space. The only one who knew that secret other than Harry was his journal, and that was protected better than Gringotts due to the book Hermione had given him for his last birthday.
Harry sighed. “It’s not like he’s ever going to feel that way toward me.” He grabbed the sheets off the bed and headed toward the laundry and showers before any of the other boys woke up. Today was the last, potions class before exams, and Harry did not want to be late.
Elsewhere in the Castle
Severus groaned in frustration, groping the bedside table for the alarm clock Albus had forced upon him last Christmas. Damned thing. When he finally had it in his hands, he threw it as hard as he could against the stone wall of his bedroom, smirking slightly when he heard the thing scatter into hundreds of pieces on the cold stone floor. It was then that he realized it had happened *again*. The damned clock had summoned him from his wonderful dream. He sighed heavily, and sat up. He was too old for this. He growled in anger as he focused on where the mess from the alarm clock should be. There the dratted contraption set, perfectly intact and fully operational. Well, at least until it woke him up from that dream again. He leaned forwards, cradling his face in his hands. How in Merlin’s name was he ever going to get through this? As the boy got older, the dreams got worse, or better, depending on how you looked at it. There were only two more weeks of school before summer holidays. And only two more days before *IT* happened. How could he survive without being able to see him every day? He groaned again. Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was not having a good day. And he had just gotten up.

Class was not any better. Longbottom, the fool, had not only blown up another cauldron in class today, but he somehow managed to make a giggling potion out of what was supposed to be a tranquilizer draught. All the seventh year Slytherins and Gryffindors were giggling their arses off, not even remotely interested in the fact that this potion would be on their exams, which were less than a week away. The fumes were so bad in the classroom that Severus had to cancel all classes for the rest of the day. This was not something that needed to happen right now!

And if that was not bad enough by itself, Severus also knew what he needed to do. The teacher in him said that he needed to warn Professor Dumbledore, have him take Harry and hide him away in order to keep him safe. The man in him told him that he needed to let this happen. It had to happen; he could not live if it didn’t. He dreaded it, looked forward to it, needed it, and prayed that it would not happen. He had spent the last nineteen years agonizing over this. The decision was made. Severus, the man, won. But there was still something that needed to be done before it happened. So with that thought in mind, he pulled out a piece of parchment and his quill and began to write a very important letter. The letter was addressed to a certain seventh year Gryffindor by the name of Harry Potter.
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