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Perchance to Dream	By : Ataraxia Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 6300 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise and do not profit from this story.

Chapter List
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Pebbles clicked together as Severus’ boot clad feet wandered the shoreline. Today, he wasn’t worried about the sea salt staining the worn black leather, or the dampness that leaked through the seams and moistened his socks. He felt no need to surveil the crying gulls that circled overhead as he usually would, watching nervously in case one of them decided to mar his crisp black robes with their feces. None of these things even crossed his mind today.

That was the wonderful thing about dreams. One could wander for hours along the beach and never have to think about bird shit, wet socks or sunburns. Men of Severus’ pallor had to be wary of the sun, and in life he remedied this by cloistering himself in the dungeons. In dreams, however, he allowed himself to relish the warm rays on his skin.

Waves crashed around his ankles, sending a salty spray into the atmosphere around him; he smiled and inhaled the moist air, closing his eyes in bliss.

“Severus,” the voice came from the sea, a whisper among the crash of waves.

He opened his black eyes and squinted into the surf. The tide was coming in, and the waves were rolling into shore with more fervour than they had before. He scanned the frothy breaks, seeking the source of the voice.

“Severus...” the voice breathed again, distinctively female and shockingly familiar.

The dark haired man crashed into the water, struggling against the tide that tried to keep him at bay.

“Lily?” He called her name frantically, searching for her in the sea.

“Lily? LILY?” Each cry was louder and more distressed. Severus plunged further into the waves and tried desperately to swim as his heavy robes dragged him into the depths.

The unrelenting water pulled him in, the undertow claiming its victim with ruthless efficiency. His head dipped below the waves and his last breath escaped him.

~*~*~

Severus opened his eyes slowly and tried to make sense of where he was. Everything was white and utterly silent and his robes had somehow become dry. Taking a breath, he noticed that his skin lacked the salty aroma it should have had after being submerged in the ocean.

He stood up quickly and surveyed the expanse of nothingness, screaming her name into the abyss, “LILY!”

“I’m here.”

Severus snapped his head around to see that his long dead friend was standing before him, her slender frame clad in a pale blue dress. Rich, red hair spilled down her front in errant waves and her green, almond-shaped eyes were filled with emotion.

His own eyes welled with tears as he pulled her in to a tight embrace. She was warm and yielding and she returned the hug fiercely.

She was real.

“Oh, gods, I missed you,” he breathed into her hair, his nostrils filling with her intoxicating scent.

Lily pulled away gently, allowing her hands to remain on his hips, “I missed you, too Severus, more than you can possibly imagine.” Her eyes were soft as they searched his face; it was so much older than she remembered it. “I am sorry for dragging you here, old friend, but I need your help.” She bit her lip anxiously and fear flashed in her eyes.

Severus felt his chest tighten in alarm. “Where is ‘here’? I can only presume that I’m not longer living.” His low, sinuous voice echoed slightly into the white abyss. He felt quite alive, but then again, so did she.

“I don’t have much time, Sev, but I promise I will explain it all to you later. You’re still very much alive, but you’re in between two worlds, in limbo, not fully in life or death,” her words were rushed, failing to give him time to process the information. “I need to send you back now, and you have to remember everything I say. This is not a dream, no matter what it feels like. When you wake up, you have to get everyone ready. You have to go fight”.

Her hands clenched his waist urgently and she emphasized her words give him a few rough shakes.

Severus’ head was spinning in confusion. He grasped Lily’s slender shoulders and stared into her face, searchingly.

“Fight what? Lily, what’s happening?”

“He’s coming,” she whispered, staring into his onyx eyes, “Voldemort, Severus. He’s coming for Harry.” Her small fingers dug in to his flesh hard enough to bruise, “You have to wake up now, Sev. You have to save my son.”

~*~*~

Severus cried out as he bolted upright in bed, his heart threatening to rip itself from his chest cavity. He was in his room, tangled in sweat soaked bedclothes with the image of Lily’s panic-stricken face burned into his vision. Tumbling from his mattress, he wrenched down the waistband of his shorts and gasped at the sight of the tiny purple bruises marring his pale flesh.

Five bruises on each hip.

Fingerprints.

Lily.

He threw on his robes and fled the dungeons, sprinting to Dumbledore’s office.

~*~*~

Dozens of cracks of apparition broke the silence of early morning as the troops arrived at the Burrow.   Dumbledore, never questioning Severus’ story, had mobilized the small army instantly and now the witches and wizards took their posts, anxiously waiting for the battle they knew would ensue.

Severus stood in the Weasley’s sitting room, silently watching Harry pace the worn pine floor. The youth had the haggard look of someone who had not eaten or slept in days; his clothes hung off his skinny frame, his eyes were sunken and hollow. For weeks, Harry Potter had been waiting to die.

“You’re going to wear through the floorboards, Potter,” the potions master said quietly, trying his best to instil a feeling of calmness into his voice.

Harry lifted his head and turned to make eye contact with his professor, but did not cease his relentless march as he spoke. “I need to do something. I don’t know how you’re just standing there and waiting.”

Worn rubber soles on his trainers emitted a soft squeal of protest as the boy turned on his heel and strode in the other direction.

Severus pursed his thin lips, “We have no choice but to wait. We do not know their plan. We only know that they are coming.”

Reaching the wall, Harry spun around and marched back towards the older wizard. Severus felt the penetrating stare of the boy’s brilliant emerald eyes burning holes right through him. He resisted the urge to shift his weight under the scrutiny, opting instead to maintain a facade of perfect stillness.   For a long moment, the boy said nothing.

The past few months had been immeasurably difficult on the teenager. After losing his godfather, he had become reserved and depressed, slowly sinking into an emotional void. Severus had watched him waste away, both physically and emotionally, and had been utterly powerless to stop it. Lily would be devastated to see her son in such a state.

In his mind, Severus silently recounted the events of that morning. He still wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened, whether she was a dream, or a disembodied spirit, but the bruises on his flesh assured him that she was, in some way, real. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the memory of her small body pressed against his, and the delicate smell of lavender that had perfumed her soft hair. It was almost too much to bear, having been so many years without her, his one and only friend. In the years since her death, he had (albeit reluctantly) protected Harry as best he could.

It all boiled down to now, today.

The kitchen door creaked as it swung open, causing Harry and Severus to both draw their wands in defensive reflex. Albus, Molly and Arthur raised their hands in matching gestures of friendliness as they entered the room.

Dumbledore’s eyes sparkled kindly as he glanced at the teenager, “You’re going to pace a hole through the floor at that rate, Harry,” he said, his mouth turning up into a gentle and comforting smile.

Harry paused in his pacing and jerked a thumb in Severus’ direction, “That’s what he said,” he muttered irritably. Sighing deeply, he glanced back and forth between the three newcomers, “Any news?”

Molly shook her head, “Nothing yet, my dear, we’re just going to have to--”

A flash of acid green spell-light illuminated the room and chaos erupted around them. Harry screamed as he saw Arthur fall to the floor, his shirt smoking from where he’d taken the killing curse straight to his chest.

Wand drawn, Severus crossed the floor in a single, fluid movement, grabbing Harry and dragging him away from the window. Some part of his mind registered the choked sobs escaping the young man’s throat, but there was no time to comfort him. Now it was time to fight.

“Stay with me,” Severus commanded, dragging Harry roughly by the arm and causing him to stumble. Spellfire whizzed by them punctuating the air with loud crackles and hisses as they fled outdoors, keeping low to the ground.

Death Eaters were everywhere. Streams of black and grey swirling smoke streaked through the air as they arrived by broomless flight, their silver masks reflecting the blaze of early morning sunlight. It was quite possibly the eeriest thing that Severus had ever seen.

Quickly scanning the surrounding fields, he took stock of the situation. To many, it would have seemed to be utter pandemonium, but to the trained eye of Severus Snape, it was a symphony of fighting.

The Order members stood in small formations, fighting off the Death Eaters who attacked from random angles. Wands cut through the air, sending light and energy flying into the intruders. Here and there, bodies from both armies struck the wet earth with a sickening thump. Fifty paces from where he and Harry stood, Severus could see Remus, Moody and Tonks stood back to back in a tight triangle, deftly reflecting curses from the intruders.   He nodded in their direction as he uttered his last instructions to Harry, “Stay in a group, watch your flank and remember that the masks obscure their peripheral vision. If you have a shot, take it, and for the love of Merlin, aim to kill.”

Green eyes met black as the two exchanged a silent prayer of good luck. Suddenly, Harry pulled his former professor into a fast and harsh embrace before turning back to the battle, wand drawn and screaming, “Avada Kedavara!”

Whether it was the time they’d spent together practising Occlumency or just a sixth sense borne of necessity, the two wizards moved in perfect harmony on the battlefield. Curses and hexes flew at them from all angles, but they blocked and parried consistently, never allowing a single blow to land. Around them, they could hear the strangled cries as their comrades fell.

The acrid smell of dark magic mingled with the familiar scent of charred human flesh, causing Severus’ stomach to churn in revulsion.

Somewhere to his left, he heard a screech of ‘Crucio’ immediately before his body was racked with blinding pain. Struggling to remain standing, Severus saw the familiar hair of Bellatrix LeStrange, and though her face was obscured by a mask, he knew her features were probably contorted with raw hatred as she tortured the man she so loathed.

Beside him, Harry spun in place, firing a full-body bind at the woman with ruthless efficiency. The spell struck true and she collapsed, her skull striking a rock with a sickening crack.   Recovering his breath, Severus watched coldly as blood dripped from her ears and joined the pools already staining the ground.

He nodded to Harry, the simple gesture both thanking him for assistance and commending him on his perfectly executed shot. The boy made to return the gesture, but froze, his eyes fixed on a point directly behind his companion.

Severus spun around, instinctively shielding the younger man behind his billowing robes. In front of him was a near-reptilian face that he had not laid eyes on in many months.

Voldemort.

“Severus,” the name came out in a hiss, and Severus couldn’t be sure whether it was from the Dark Lord’s mouth or the slits that served as his nose. It could have been a combination of both that produced such an unearthly sound.

“Riddle,” he spat back, his wand at the ready.

The dark wizard smiled, flashing a set of unnaturally pointed teeth, “I see you have chosen a new allegiance, Severus. I regret to inform you that such a betrayal must result in your demise. There will be no room in my new world for traitorous miscreants such as yourself.”   His red eyes blared with anger as he took a step towards Severus, and subsequently, Potter.

“I would never wish to live in such a world,” Severus growled, reaching one hand behind him protectively.

Voldemort laughed derisively, his thin lips turning into a menacing sneer, “Oh, Severus, I never intended for you to live at all.”

As if in slow motion, Severus felt Harry shove him down with enough force that his already-crooked nose broke upon impact with the ground. Looking up through searing pain, Severus saw the boy’s mouth twist to form the words of the killing curse as green sparks began to form at the end of his wand. Voldemort’s face registered surprise as he lifted his wand in retaliation, but just a fraction of a second too slowly. With a repulsive smack, the force of Harry’s curse struck the Dark Lord in the face, causing blood to spew forth from his mouth in a horrifying surge. Harry held the curse even as Voldemort’s lifeless body fell to the ground, the unrelenting green light forcing deep crimson fluid from every orifice of the corpse. Severus stared in abject horror as the body slowly withered and deflated.

Gently, so as not to startle him, Severus reached a hand to Harry’s leg and touched the boy’s ankle.

Harry was screaming, an unholy roar of pure hatred and anguish. Feeling the touch of Severus’ hand on his leg, he closed his mouth. The silence left in the wake of his scream nearly as deafening as the sound itself.

Harry cast a dazed look down at the remnants of the Dark Lord at his feet before dropping to the ground. Crossing his legs, he sat in silence, blankly staring at the shrivelled remains of the entity that had shaped his life for the last time.

~*~*~

It was an overcast day, but the weather never really seemed to make a difference to Harry Potter. Those who visited knew that they would find him in the same position; sitting in a chair by the window, staring out the thick glass pane with blank eyes.

“This must be more complicated than post traumatic stress disorder,” Severus said, shaking his head in concern, “Even the least competent Healer should have come to that conclusion by now.”

The tall, dark-haired wizard was leaning against the white painted brick in Harry’s room at St. Mungo’s Hospital, rubbing the newly-healed bridge of his nose in concern. Beside him, Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in a stiff-backed chair, his lips pursed.

“The mind is a complicated thing, Severus,” the old wizard said quietly, his eyes regarding the boy in front of them sadly.

Harry hadn’t uttered a single word in the 3 weeks since the battle. Dumbledore had come upon the young man sitting in a pool of Voldemort’s blood, rocking himself gently back and forth as a dazed and injured Severus laid beside him   Neither of the two men had been able to coax the Boy Who Lived to speak, and only after Voldemort’s body had been removed were they able to encourage him to stand.

He moved like a ghost, only deigning to walk when he was being led by a hand on his shoulder or elbow. The scarred young wizard only ate when sustenance was spooned into his mouth, and drank when a glass was raised to his lips. The healers of St. Mungo’s were perplexed by their young ward’s condition. Medically, he seemed fine. In fact, three weeks of spoon feeding and limited exercise had helped to flesh out his wiry frame and return the healthy glow of a well-rested young man to his skin.   At a quick glance, Harry looked better than he had in months; it was only the vacancy in his deadened green eyes that gave his condition away.

Severus had come to visit Harry nearly every day since the incident. He couldn’t help but on some level feel that that he should have been able to save the boy. He had been charged to protect him, and no matter what anyone said, Severus felt he had failed.

After an hour or so of quiet conversation, Dumbledore abdicated his stiff chair and returned to Hogwarts, leaving Severus to find himself dozing off in Harry’s room as he did so very often these days.
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Perchance to Dream