Far from my Dreams

A/N: Harry Potter and all characters within belong to the original author. I make no money from the writing of this story. I claim nothing. Except maybe a cool plotbunny!


Far from my Dreams

The old house was musty and abandoned. It had stood silent and empty ever since the incident. No one had come to clean it out. No one had wanted the responsibility. The death of all the others had foreshadowed the loss of Snape.

It was with reluctance and a heavy heart that Hermione Granger stepped into the old house. She had never seen his home. Heard of it, yes. But she had never stepped inside his private sanctuary.

She had attended the funeral that day with the rest of them. A strange event with few people there and no casket, but instead a pyre. The words were spoken naming him a hero and the fire was lit.

She remembered feeling distressed as she watched it burn. He was deserving of so much more. The entire Wizarding world owed it to him to be here. It angered her that there was so little respect given to someone who had made Harry’s success possible.

It was then that she discovered that no one had taken on the responsibility of packing up his belongings. He had no family. There was no one who wanted any of it.

She remembered after the Wake, Minerva had pulled Hermione aside and made her the offer. She had been shocked. . .


“What? You mean no one has even been there? Why ever not?” She had caught herself nearly yelling before Minerva shushed her.

“Because of reasons you very well know.” Minerva tsked, gripping Hermione’s arm and drawing her a little further away from the crowd, as if to escape any eavesdroppers. “Severus was a very private man. He did not want just anyone going through his things. However,” she straightened her shoulders, looking her former student in the eyes.

“Severus had told me, not that long ago that he wished you to inherit his home and everything within it. He even filed all the appropriate paperwork.” She offered her young friend a sad smile. “You are his heir.”

Hermione shook her head from side to side, completely baffled by Minerva’s words. “But why?”

The new Headmistress smiled. “My dear, with a wizard such as Severus, who knows? He has long been an enigma. You know this as well as I.”

As if that settled things, Minerva reached into her cloak and withdrew a scroll. “When she handed it to Hermione, she added. “Here is everything you need to gain entrance into Spinners End, my dear. It is now your property to do with as you please.”

~~~~

Harry and Ron, her constant friends and endless sources of support had been less than supportive when she had told them.

“You’ve inherited Spinners End? Why?” Ron had gawked at her like an English pug. “Why would Snape name you as his benefactor? That just doesn’t make any sense, ‘Mione.”

Frustrated, she had groaned. “Thanks for the support, Ron. I don’t know why he gave it to me. But, the point is, he did. Now, are you two going to come help me, or not?”

Ron quickly shook his head and took a step backwards. “Not me!” he scowled. “I’m not ready for any more adventures yet.”

Glancing from Ron to Harry hopefully, she was disappointed when he gave her a regretful look. “Hermione, I’m sorry. I know you just want to go get this done. But I just don’t think I can get up the energy to do anything else right now.”

His shoulders sagged. “I just want to surround myself with the people I love and not worry about anything else right now.”

As disappointed as she had been, she couldn’t make herself be mad at them. Nodding, she sighed. “I expected as much. Its okay, guys. I think I can do this. Maybe he has a house elf that won’t mind helping me sort through it all.

~~~~

So now, she stood in the entryway of his home. A man she had respected and admired for so many years who she felt was never truly appreciated as she had thought he should have been.

She felt humbled and awed that he had left it to her. All of his belongings were now hers. She looked around the room, noticing that even though it was not a mansion, it was no small place by any means.

The spiral staircase wound its way slowly up in front of her, while there were two doors on either side of it that opened into the lower parts of the home. Quickly finding the light-switch, she offered up a small prayer of thanks when it worked. She hadn’t been so sure she could do anything otherwise since it was already dark.

Looking back to the door on the left, then right, she pointed back and forth between the two, considering, “Eanie, Meanie, Miney Mo…” Her finger pointed toward the right. With a sigh, she muttered, “here goes nothing.”

As the door swung open, Hermione went from being hesitant to becoming enchanted. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. Stepping into the room, she gazed in every direction with fascination. It was a library that would have made anyone with an appreciation for literature proud.

When her gaze moved from the books, she noticed that a fire burned inside the fireplace on the far wall and a desk was set in place before it. Stacked with papers and books and looking quite used. As if someone had been here only minutes before.

Hermione pondered it. That was odd. Minerva had said that no one had been here. It was evident when she first came in that no one had been here. But, there was a glass, sitting on the desk.

Moving closer, she reached out and touched the glass. It was half full of fire-whiskey and looked as if it was fresh. How was that possible? Turning in a slow circle, she called out; “Hello?” she waited. “Is anyone there?” nothing.

Strangely, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn’t right. She was spooked beyond all else and wanted nothing more than to leave. Then, she turned back to the fireplace and happened to gaze up above the mantle.

There, looking back at her with his usual condescending expression was none other than the man who had bequeathed her the home in the first place. Severus Snape himself in an enchanted portrait.

Moving to stand directly below the portrait, she waited for any sign of movement. She felt hopeful because if such a portrait existed, she would be the first to know about it. But besides that, such a portrait would know the reason why he had chosen to gift this place to her.

There was no movement. Nothing. Not a glimpse in her direction, not a twitch in his expression. Disappointment filled her and she lifted the glass to her mouth, downing the fiery liquid quickly. The burn assailed her, stealing her breath. Coughing and gasping, she turned from the portrait and fought to overcome the sudden heat that traveled down her esophagus to her stomach, where it seemed to have landed like a rock.

When the coughing passed, she took a few deep breaths and turned back to the fireplace. When her gaze again moved to the portrait, she could have sworn his eyes shifted.

Pointing at the painting and jumping up and down, she swore, “I knew it! I knew that you were enchanted! I see you! I caught you now.”

Nothing. Not even a slight flinch or a change in expressions. Reaching out, Hermione laid her hand on the mantle. “Oh, Professor. Please?” Her expression became forlorn and tears gathered in her eyes. “For a moment, I actually thought I might be able to handle the fact that you were dead because I could at least speak with you here.”

Feeling her cheeks dampen as tears fell silently, she turned to the desk and sat down dejectedly in the chair. Looking at the desk, she saw for the first time, a sealed envelope. Picking it up, her fingers shook as she read her name written in Snape’s impeccable handwriting. Taking a slow steadying breath, she tore open the letter and opened it.

Miss Granger,

As I am sure, this has probably shocked you Please drink the firewhisky as it will help. I put a stasis charm on it so it should still be fresh when you arrive

Now, where should I start? I had meant to speak with you had I survived the war and explain why I chose to leave my possessions to you. But, if we could choose the perfect moment to die, I doubt that any of us would choose to go unexpectedly or violently.

However, I did want to try to leave you a way to understand my motives. Alas, this was the only way I could conceive of. For that, I apologize.

As I am no longer alive, I no longer have the hesitancies that I did when I was living. It has taken my death sentence to discover how precious every moment of life really is.

Therefore, in this letter, I am giving you my confession. I would ask that you keep it a secret as I do not wish others to know something so personal.

You know now that I once loved Potter’s mother. Lily was everything to me. In my youth, I believed that I could make her love me. I was a fool. She was meant to be with James. I know that now.
I never believed there would ever be another that I would come to care for as deeply. I never believed it was possible. I threw myself into my mission in life; the defeat of the Dark Lord. I only hope that if I am now dead, he is as well.
When you came to Hogwarts, you were an endless torment to me. You had the same spunk Lily had. You had the same thirst for knowledge that drove her. Damn if I wasn’t set up from the beginning. I had Potter looking at me with her eyes, and you driving me insane with a similar passion for learning. When you were so young, it was just an annoyance.

I didn’t see it coming. I never looked for it. The first four years of your education, I didn’t even notice. Then, when you returned for fifth year, I was lost. You had matured and changed from a frizzy headed youth into a beautiful, amazing young woman. I had to work doubly hard at continuing to be the coldhearted git everyone believed me to be.

That was your fault. I had resigned myself to my fate. I accepted that chances were I would die in this war. Then, because of you, I found myself wanting to live. I wanted to have a chance to convince you to forget your passing attraction to Weasley and instead give someone older and wiser a chance to earn your love.

Now, I am dead. There is no changing that. There is no going back and erasing it. But, if you were to desire it, I can give you something. The portrait behind you now is enchanted. However, I have charmed it not to respond to you until after you have read this letter in its entirety.

My spirit is in this house. Years ago, I took a potion that would send my soul here. I will dwell here for as long as you may have need of me. I shall also be solid. But, only for you. Only your eyes can see me as such. Only you would be able to touch me... Also, of course, this is only if you so choose.

My painting holds the key. If you wish all that I can offer you and would consider a relationship with a ghost, then you must tell him. He alone can reveal the way to release my soul from stasis.

I honestly do not expect that you would want me. I am, as you already know, who I am. I have surrendered myself to the reality that you will be shocked and appalled that your former Professor would make such a proposition to you.

If this is the case, then you are not obligated to release me. Leave me as I am and I will not even know. Right now, in my stasis, I dream. If you choose to leave me there, I shall continue to dream.

Forgive me, if this has made you uncomfortable. I assure you, it was not my intention. I would suggest you consider this carefully. By accepting my proposal, you would then find yourself in a relationship with someone who has a tendency toward jealousy.

I would treasure you. I would accept your life among the living. But I would expect any romantic needs you had to be mine to take care of. I regret that it would mean you could have no children. At least, I don’t believe my spirit can give you any.

I have said all I wanted to. I will leave the decision in your hands. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask my portrait. He knows me intimately.

With Devotion,
Severus


Hermione sat staring at the letter in shocked confusion. His spirit was in this house? He was locked in stasis and waiting for her to release him, but only if she wanted to pursue a romantic relationship with him?
She drew a shaky breath and released it slowly. Her fingers shook. She had no idea how to feel about this. She wasn’t appalled. She wasn’t disgusted. She was bemused and flattered.

A part of her was giddy. She had hidden her feelings for years. She had never admitted to anyone, but she had been enamored with Snape ever since her fourth year. To know that he had started to feel the same only a year later made her want to dance around in circles like a crazy kid.

Her excitement was cut short by the revelation that he was dead. What he offered her was something that she would love to have. She did want him, but she was unsure she was prepared for how solitary her life would become otherwise.

There would be no date nights. It wasn’t as if she could take him to the Burrow for dinner on Friday nights. There would be no couples night shared with Ron and Luna, Harry and Ginny. It was something to consider carefully.

Setting the letter down, she turned ever so slowly to gaze up at the man inside the portrait, who now watched her closely. For many moments, they simply stared at each other. Then his voice filled the room.

“I was beginning to think you would never discover the letter.” His voice was soft like silken threads that wrapped around her and made her tingle in places that ached to be touched.

Drawing a shaky breath, she whispered. “I am not sure I can do this. I have to consider it.”

With an understanding nod, Severus answered softly, “I would expect no less of you, Miss Granger. This isn’t exactly something you would do lightly, but a life altering decision.”

Tears burned the back of her eyes as she rested her head against the back of the chair. “I want to. I truly do, Professor. But I have to think of my friends as well. This is a pretty big secret to keep from them. And in their eyes, I would become an old spinster.” Thoughts of all the future set ups they would attempt with available bachelors made her chuckle without any humor.

“Yes.” He answered. “We would want to do whatever we must to avoid that. Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Potter would be hard to dissuade.”

She sat forward. “Perhaps, if I could at least tell them?”

“No!” he answered somewhat sharply. “It would be to no avail. As they could not see me, they would simply think you had lost your senses.” He shrugged. “I cannot backtrack and change the potion, Hermione. What is done is done.”

His expression was sad, as if he had already decided she would refuse. “Take your rest in the last room upstairs. In the morning, you may sort through all my things and take what you desire. Leave the rest here and just send me a House-elf to keep me company. Except for what it will take to maintain the house, the rest of the money has already been set up in your account at Gringotts.”

Hermione stared at him and suddenly felt overcome with a desire to give this man what he had not dared to hope for. “Where is he?” she asked gently.

Those dark eyes turned to her and looked her over. “Forgive me? I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Disbelief was evident in his gaze.

Taking a deep breath, she spoke louder. “Where is he? What must I do to end the stasis?” As soon as she had said it, she felt the heaviness she had been feeling lift.

She wanted him. No other man had ever challenged her the way he had. She doubted there was another out there with the intellect to do even nearly as well as he had.

She knew her decision was the right one when a smile such as she had never seen before broke across the painted Severus’ face. “His soul is in a bottle that is contained inside your bedchamber. All you need do to release him is take the lid off.” He chuckled, “Almost like a genie in the bottle”

Offering him a smile in return, she bid him goodnight and left the room, making her way up the stairs. Although she was interested in various paintings and books she found along the way, they were unimportant to her at the moment.

What was important was getting to the bedroom that had been marked as hers and opening that bottle so she could begin her new life. A life she would be spending with Severus.

When she neared the door, she stood there staring at it for several minutes. As his letter warned, once she did this, there would be no turning back. She could well understand that he would not be willing to give her up if she pulled him back into her world.

Smiling, she corrected herself. This would not be her world. It would not be the Weasley’s world. Or even Harry Potter’s world. It would be their world; a world that she and Severus would have together.

Reaching out, she grasped the doorknob and turned it slowly. When she opened the door, she stepped into the room. Once again, a fire burned in the hearth, giving the room ample light for her to see enough.

Her eyes moved to the armoire, where a large bottle that looked more like an urn sat. Suddenly, it dawned on her. He had been cremated. His ashes were inside this bottle.

Hugging the urn to her, she turned and moved toward the bed. Her mind was still undecided as to what she should do. Her heart ached at the idea of not doing this, but there was fear as well.

What if she did this, and he was disappointed? What if it turned out that they were incompatible? The idea that he might not be happy with her after all was almost enough for her put the urn back where she had found it and leave the room.

But as she sat, holding his ashes, something inside her rebelled. This was her chance at true happiness. She knew that as much as they had wanted it, Ron just wasn’t her match. She loved Harry, but like a brother. There was no one else that she felt this at ease with intellectually.

Her decision made, she reached up and twisted the lid off of the urn and moved to sit it back on the dresser. Then she moved back to the bed, waiting to see what would happen.

Slowly, a cloudy mist seemed to rise from the container and moved forward before stopping before her and forming into the shape of a man. Mesmerized, Hermione watched as the phantom became thicker, taking the form of the man she had come to know as Professor Snape.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. He was completely naked with no sign of remorse or embarrassment. His dark eyes looked her over and his expression softened.

When he moved to sit beside her on the bed and took her hand, lifting it to his lips, Hermione fought the moan that worked to escape from her.

For a moment she couldn’t speak. Then, finding her voice, she whispered, “Is it really you?”

His lips parted in a genuine smile and he pressed her hand to his heart. “For you, my love.” He answered. “Only for you.”

Her heart tripled its rhythm. She reached out with her free hand and cradled his cheek. Part of her was afraid the Snape she was used to would balk at her touch, but Severus closed his eyes and leant into her touch.

His voice, when he spoke was deep with passion. “You don’t know how long I have been consumed with the need to touch you. To be touched by you.” His eyes opened and he reached out, running his hand over her riotous curls.

Before she realized what he was doing, he had closed the small distance between them and his mouth closed over hers. The contact stunned her and she gasped, allowing his tongue to mingle with hers.

He took advantage of the moment and deepened the kiss, pulling her tightly to him. One of his hands moved to cradle her head as the other began to work at pulling at her jumper.

When he broke the kiss on a ragged breath, he whispered, “If you aren’t ready, tell me now, because I want you, Hermione. I want to rip these clothes from you and bury myself inside your heat.” His hand trembled as he moved to stroke her cheek. “I will stop if you are not ready. I would never force you.”
Her eyes searched his and slowly she pushed away from him, gaining her feet. Turning to look down on him, she pulled the jumper over her head and tossed it aside. Then unbuttoning her trousers, she slid them down her legs.

She watched his face as she rid herself of her clothes. His desire was evident as he himself was not dressed. His length jutted out full and long before her. It curved forward a little toward the tip, making her think of what a friend had once told her about men like that being able to reach the elusive g-spot. A smile played across her lips. She was a lucky woman.

Moving back to his side, she climbed up to straddle his lap. Immediately, his hands moved to caress her skin, pulling a moan from her. Her eyes nearly closed as one hand closed over her breast. A soft squeeze, followed by fingertips tweaking the nipple made her shudder.

His other hand slowly moved down between her legs, and hesitantly touched her folds. His fingers moved slowly, back and forth over the lips of her labia before one slid past it to rub circles around her clit.

Crying out, she found herself arching into his touch. “Severus!”

He groaned, “Oh, Merlin, you’re wet! I want to taste you” A kind of desperation had come into his voice as he moved to lay her back onto the bed. “Let me taste you.” As he spoke, he slid down her body, leaving a trail of kisses as he made his way to the spot between her legs that was beginning to ache with a desire to be filled.

She whispered, “Yes! Please, Severus. Taste me. Take me.” She gasped when she felt his hand part her folds to his view. Arching her back, she lifted her hips in an attempt to bring herself closer to his mouth.

He did not disappoint. When she lifted, he lowered his head, pressing his tongue to her clit and swirling it over her. She cried out as his lips closed over her and he began sucking on the small nub that no other had ever touched for longer than a passing moment. She felt amazed and blessed that Severus seemed content to give it all of his attention.

Gasping, she held to his head, running her fingers through his hair. “Please! Severus, please. I can’t. . . Oh God I don’t. . . don’t stop!”

Chuckling, he whispered, “Never!” His tongue continued to worry her clit as his forefinger slid deeply into her core. He was rewarded when she moaned at the feeling, and arched her back again, Pulling his finger almost completely out, he then thrust two into her at an angle that had her nearly coming up off the bed.

“Oh… Severus… Oh, now… I want you! Let me…” grasping at him, she tried to no avail to pull him up over her. Her breathing was labored as she worked to convince him to come up.

When he finally moved to rest his groin against her, she felt the hard length of him pressing against her in silent demand. Reaching down between them, her hand closed over his length and she moved her hand slowly over it in a caressing manner.

She watched as he closed his own eyes and moaned, seeming to relish her touch. With a smile, she lifted her hips, aligning his cock with her weeping core. “Now, Severus. Please? Take me now.”

Opening his eyes and meeting her gaze, he thrust forward swiftly, impaling her with his thickness. She cried out and arched into it as he moved deep. For a moment, he stilled, letting her adjust to him before beginning to move, slowly at first b before picking up speed and thrusting deeper each time.

Hermione felt it when he hit her cervix and she came instantly, screaming out her pleasure as he relentlessly drove into her again and again. Gasping, she wrapped her legs around his hips and held on as he carried her further and further into the abyss.

Her hands moved over him, sliding over his shoulders, down over his chest. She paused when her thumb found his nipple and she used her elbows to brace her self enough to rise up and run her tongue over it.

She was rewarded when he groaned her name and began moving even faster, pumping into her at a rate that left her no choice but to climax again. Crying out, she held to him as he followed her in this time, his own orgasm achieved.

She felt his seed when it flowed into her and wondered over it. When he said he could not give her a child, she had assumed that would mean he would have no seed to spill into her.

Rolling away from her, he gathered her into his arms, and held her to his chest. She started to voice her thoughts, but thought better of it. Instead, she was just thankful that she had what she did. She may never have a child. But she would have him.

Holding to him, she whispered, “If this is some sweet dream, please don’t wake me. I want to stay in it forever.”

Severus turned and kissed her soundly on the lips. When he pulled back he gave her a tender smile. “No, Hermione, this is no dream. This is real. Because of you, I’m real. Unless, of course it is my dream.” He sighed, “In that case, I’d never want to be far from my dreams.”


~Finite~