The Black Unicorn

“Do you know, Severus, that some people say that dragons dreamed the world into existence?” She was bent over him, whispering. She ran her fingers over his chest lightly, grazing his nipples with her palms.

“Esmeralda?” They were in some kind of dark den. He was lying in thick pillows that had been mounded against the den’s stone wall, but this wasn’t the stone of Voldemort and it didn’t have the feel of that awful place. This was somewhere that melted his anxiety, reminding him of the safety of his father’s arms, a place where he was protected from the hard eyes of the world. A warm yellow light from several sconces embedded in the dark stone cast shadows around them. Esmeralda’s clear green eyes were on his. Her flesh was warm on his thighs where she sat over him, and she kissed him on the lips, her tongue darting out to tease him lightly. He put his hands on her shoulders.

“Where are we?” Was this a dream? He was naked, he felt drowsy and rumpled, and relaxed. Her smile was his sweet invitation to her. She curled his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear; her thumb brushed his cheek gently in passing. Her wound was gone.

“This is my safe place, my den. I missed you, and there’s no better cure for a nightmare than a good dream.” He smiled back at her, not the cynical, thin smile, or his all-knowing, crafty smile; this was the shy smile that was hers, and hers alone.

“Your arm is well. You’re all right.” He ran his hand over the once-torn clavicle. The air smelled like myrrh, resinous and earthy. The scent combed over him; the warm weight of the woman and the incense in his nostrils aroused him like a calm hand.

“Severus. A pattern has been laid for you, one that will bring you harm. This place will undo that pattern. Dumbledore and I can help you weave a different pattern. But you need to let us meet you half-way. My heart is yours; can you do this?” Her voice was dark like honey; her mouth was teasing his ear. But he was vaguely annoyed, confused. His mind was his own, Dumbledore had broken the ritual. But if that was so, why did he feel as if he were fleeing from some dark shadow most of the time? Esmeralda felt the anxiety, watched the irritation flicker through his eyes.

“But I’m no longer his. We broke the ritual…” His quick slytherin wit and easy cleverness fell away in this place. Her love for him dissolved the thin black lacquer of his haughty veneer.

“Yes, but the pattern persists. The damage persists. Your mind and your heart are wounded; they’ve been sundered. Like my shoulder, Severus. But I can help you.” He stilled. Her fingers twined around his, gentle; she ran a forefinger over his calloused fingertips.

“How?” He breathed. His muscles seemed to be losing the ability to hold his head upright; tension was draining from him like metal melting in the heart of fire.
“Let me love you. You’ve taken Dumbledore’s medicine. Now, let me make better dreams for you.” Her other hand ran over the scars along the left side of his ribcage, along the edge of the last rib. He held his breath, her fingers were leaving tingling trails in their wake and his desire spread like a blooming wave. She leaned forward and pressed her breasts into his chest, and kissed him again. Her mouth brushed his like the softness of rain, spreading, moving over his lips. Her hand went to the back of his head, and wrapped itself in the mane of his hair. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth to hers and their tongues coiled like two dark lovers, meeting shyly. His erection was pulsing and she moved her other hand down and paused for a moment, doing something he couldn’t see, but he was so thoroughly occupied by her tongue that he didn’t care. She moved her mouth over to his ear, kissing his tender spot there.

“Almond oil; it won’t hurt you.” She reached down with the other, oiled hand and wrapped around his shaft, below the head, and began stroking upwards. The rest of his body went limp and she moved her mouth over his throat, nipping lightly, then over his shoulder. He tried to bring his palms against her breasts, but she stopped the marvelous thing she was doing in his hair and pressed his hands down.

“No. This is for you.” He couldn’t argue; he had started making quiet whimpering noises in his throat as she kept up the motion with her hand. She peppered his breast with more delicate kisses, and then moved herself down over the softness of his belly. She kissed the line of dark hair that started below his navel and now both hands were around his hips. He opened his eyes again. He had stopped breathing, or he was breathing too fast, he couldn’t tell. She circled her palms on the tops of his thighs and kneaded into the muscle there. She placed both hands on the delicate inside flesh and massaged gently.

“What are you doing?” he breathed. He wanted to sink completely into the pillows, but he loved watching her, loved looking into her gentle eyes. She dipped one hand into the bowl with the almond oil.

“Severus, just lie back and relax. Don’t worry.” She massaged the insides of his thighs slowly, in deep, gentle circles. His erection began to throb. He sank back into the soft pillows, but he could not relax his hips. Her hands massaged his calves, then up again to the insides of his mid-thighs, then the delicate, soft area of his upper thighs, where his scrotum lay nestled. She stroked his scrotum very gently, cupping his testicles. She began the massage on the insides of his legs yet again, and he relaxed further. She used a kind of rhythm to the massage that was erotic and comforting. He kept his eyes closed. He was in some kind of heaven.

“This is a dream, then?” His voice was quiet, sleepy.

“Yes. This is our dream.” She kept up the gentle stroking. The throb was back; it was becoming more insistent, but her hands were so soothing that he decided to just enjoy the sensations. Then she bent over him and kissed his groin, kissed the cut of his groin, she nuzzled the thick hair that protected his genitals, kissing him, caressing him with her mouth. His head laid back, his lips parted.

“Oh…” he whispered. “Oh….my……..” She rubbed her cheek against the shaft of his very erect penis, nuzzling the hot, engorged flesh. She kissed his scrotum, lightly licked the base of the shaft. He began to pant softly. She licked all up and down the shaft, but paused under the sensitive head. Her hands held the tops of his hip bones where they joined his thighs. Her thumbs caressed his groin gently. She licked again, harder, all around the shaft, the sides, the front, teasing just underneath the head. Severus’ eyes had rolled up into his skull. She wrapped her tongue around his head slowly, caressing him, teasing him, lightly at first, then with more pressure. She brought her head down and opened her throat and took the entire head and shaft of his penis as far into her mouth as she could accommodate, sucking and licking. She was obviously enjoying this as much as he was. Her left hand had tightened around his waist, and her right held his scrotum lightly, sometimes quickening along his shaft, sometimes caressing his testicles. His breath was ragged. His world narrowed to the wet paradise of her mouth around his cock. He was breathing in gasps, he was so close to orgasm, her throat was wet and warm around him, her tongue a firm, hot lash of pleasure. She moved slightly faster, her hand became firmer around the base of the shaft of his penis. He was gasping, his hands contorting over her shoulders. She began to suck harder, her tongue moving more rapidly over his cock as she took him deeper and faster down her throat. Severus arched his hips slightly and groaned, out of control. His orgasm started and he tried desperately hard to not grab her head. He was only aware of her mouth around him and blinding pleasure as he finally came. She sucked at him greedily until he had spent himself.

“I….I don’t think I can move.” He was trembling softly where he sat. She relaxed her head into his lap, and sighed, closing her eyes.

“I love doing that. It’s so satisfying.”

“Yes.” Severus agreed, too tired and sated to elaborate. She looked up at him, her hair gleamed a deep copper-red in the sconces’ light.

“That was for you.” She placed her right hand on his belly, and her gaze was hopeful and full of love. Warmth spread out into him deeply from the palm of her hand. He placed his own hand on hers, and then the lights slowly dimmed, and went to a muted black.


Severus awoke in his own bed; night had fallen. He sat up. He was in his nightshirt; the dream had been so real; could she control dreams? Was that part of being a changeling? Part of him was dumbfounded, and the other part simply grateful; but he was worried. Even dreams took energy, and she needed to . H. He noted, wryly, that he had not stopped the dream in his concern for her welfare, however. He was a greedy git; he would ask her about it later. He tried to recall the events of the day…..now he remembered. He had gone to Dumbledore and gotten more of the draught Albus had prescribed. Dumbledore had chided him for not eating or sleeping, and Snape had retorted irritably that he had not been about to leave Esmeralda alone, what with dragons and god knows what else about, and the older wizard had relented and promised Severus that either he or Minerva would be down to watch Esmeralda that afternoon while he slept. Snape had backed off. Albus had had his hands full with trying to convince the Ministry that Hogwarts could remain open for a few more days until Dumbledore and his staff could mend the wards and spells around the castle that had been sundered by Voldemort.

Snape got out of bed carefully, feeling more relaxed than he had been in months. He moved for his clothing. He was due back in Esmeralda’s room at 11:00 pm that night, but first he wanted to go and talk to Hagrid. He thought back to that afternoon. Severus had finally realized how deeply disturbed Albus was about all of them, not just Esmeralda, and ended up apologizing gruffly to Dumbledore for his outburst. But Albus had sent him on his way, urging him to sleep, as his help would be needed the next day.

Snape shrugged on his greatcoat and reached for the two bottles of firewhiskey and the bottle of vodka he had purchased earier for Hagrid and himself. The giant would need lubricating, and he wouldn’t mind a bit of the vodka to take the edge off. He looked out of his dark dungeon window into the night beyond, and was greeted by the glow of Hagrid’ghtlghtly bonfire in the distance. He was trying hard not to let his worry over Esmeralda consume him. It was time to pay Rubeus a visit; Snape’s knowledge of potions and poisons was extensive, but there was deeper, richer magic hidden in the forest, and Hagrid would know where to find it.