Work Text:
You wake violently. A cry rips from your throat as your body hits the floor with a painful thud. There’s the smell of soot in the air and the taste of ash on your tongue.
“Lumos!” yells a deep, velvety voice. You know that voice, but in your current state, you can’t place it.
You feel yourself dragged to your feet as you cough and splutter. You’re forced against a cold, stone wall and you feel a weight pressing against you, something poking up into the underside of your chin. Finally, your eyes clear and you jump at the sight of a pale, dark haired man, his face inches from your own as he’s pressing you against the wall. And you know. Your heart begins to race and you gulp. It’s the man you have always longed for; the man you knew only in books and movies; the man you wished could be more than a fictional character.
Eyes wide in surprise, the only words you manage to form are, “What the fuck?”
“What the fuck, indeed,” drawls the man. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Professor Snape…” you breathe.
The man frowns. “Yes. Do we know each other?”
“Holy shit! You’re Severus Snape! I sure as hell know you! I don’t know if you know me, although it is my dream so it would be pretty shit if I dreamed of you and you didn’t know me…”
Severus stares at you as you babble, presses what you now know is his wand harder into your flesh. “Who are you?”
“I’m (y/n),” you answer, waiting – hoping – to see a glimmer of recognition in the deep, black pools of his eyes. It doesn’t come and your heart drops. Finally, a dream about your fictional love and he doesn’t even know you.
“You’re not a student,” Severus muses as he studies you.
“Well, no, not technically. But the Sorting Hat quiz on the Wizarding World website sorted me into (y/h) so…”
“Quiet,” he hisses, then cocks his head quizzically. “Website?”
“Yeh, you know, the internet? Computers?”
“I know of them, yes. But we do not use such technology in the Wizarding World.”
“No, but I do. Back in the REAL world.”
“Enough!” Snape grits his teeth in frustration. “From now on you will only speak to answer my questions. Understood?”
You huff and roll your eyes. “Fine.” Worst. Dream. Ever.
“Not a student… Are you with the Death Eaters, then? Do you come with a message from the Dark Lord?” Snape asks.
“What the fuck? No! Hell no! I don’t support that asshole.”
He grabs your left arm and roughly yanks up the sleeve of your satin sleep shirt. “No Dark Mark. If you are not with him, then who are you and how did you get into Hogwarts?”
“Well, I’m not really here, am I? I’m still tucked up in my bed, in my home, dreaming. So… I’m here because this is where the dream brought me.”
Severus’ frown deepens. “That is the second time you have referred to this as a dream, but, unfortunately – for the both of us – I can assure you it is no dream.”
Now it’s your turn to frown. “Of course it is. That’s all this can be.”
Confused, Snape takes a step back, leaving you feeling suddenly cold without the heat of his body pressed against you. It is then you get your first full look at him and your jaw drops. Having been startled from his sleep, he’s wearing black satin boxers; and only black satin boxers. His tall, lean body is made up of wiry muscle and you have to fight the urge to go to him and run your hands over his smooth chest. Your wandering gaze lowers to his boxer shorts and you swallow, anticipating what they hid within. Keeping his wand trained on you, he growls as you remind him of his state of undress. But he doesn’t move to cover himself, choosing instead to look you up and down as blatantly as you were looking at him. Trying to unnerve me, you think. You welcome his scrutiny, casually shifting yourself into a more graceful, sultry pose, determined to get his attention. This was your dream and damn it, you were going to get what you wanted. You’re wearing nothing but your favourite (y/f/c) satin sleep shirt that stops at your midthighs. The top few buttons are undone, revealing an ample amount of your chest. For just a moment, you see something flash across Snape’s face, something you would have called lust, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t be sure. And it was gone in a blink.
“You should not be here. It is not possible. My fire is not connected to the Floo Network, so, explain yourself,” he demands. “Now. Or do I have to make you?”
Cross with the whole situation, you huff and fold your arms. So rude, you think. So rude of your brain to gift you this dream of Severus Snape, yet not allow you to enjoy it as you would like. “Probably be more fun if you tried to make me.”
“Careful,” he warns in a silky voice that wraps itself around you, meandering lazily across your skin until it hits you in the place his voice has always hit you; your aching pussy.
You shiver, the yearning for him so intense you can hardly stand still. You know very well he could torture you in any number of ways. He’s one of the most powerful wizards in the entire Harry Potter franchise. And he knows it too, you realise as you study him. You see the confidence in his abilities in his stiff posture, the arrogant tilt of his head, and the casual way he is holding his wand towards you.
“Don’t say something you might regret,” he threatens, smirking. Another display of his confidence.
Perhaps if you play along, the dream will eventually get to the good stuff. With that thought, you sigh. “Look, I got here because this is where my dream took me. I’m (y/n). I’m from (y/c). And that is where my body is, right at this moment, sleeping. I mean, look at what I’m wearing, for fuck’s sake! And besides, it can only be a dream because, in the real world, Hogwarts, you… all this,” you wave your arms to take in your surrounds, “doesn’t exist.”
He squints at you, clearly not buying a word of what you’re saying.
“You said it yourself,” you continue. “Your fire isn’t connected to the Floo Network. I shouldn’t be able to just dump myself into Hogwarts because of all the wards and whatever. But here I am. There’s no other possible explanation except that this is a dream. And a pretty shit dream at that.”
Snape glares at you. “Fine. You clearly do not wish to cooperate so you leave me no choice. Legilimens!”
You feel a sensation, like your mind is being blown wide open, and then you feel Snape in there, walking through your memories and thoughts like he owns the place. You see scenes flash by as he views each one; your street, your house, your Harry Potter collection – including a life-size cardboard cutout of one Severus Snape, and your Hogwarts house robes. He sees you as you were that morning, having breakfast while you play games on your phone; your phone that shows the date as 18th July 2021. He follows the trajectory of your day as you go about your business. When it comes to bedtime, you wince, knowing what he is about to see; you, masturbating, moaning his name as your fingers work your wet pussy. It was a regular occurrence for you. Severus Snape was your ultimate fantasy. Everything about him turned you on; his hands, his voice… oh fuck his voice… his sassy sarcasm. As your thoughts get caught up in fantasy, you remember too late that Snape can see everything. He seems to linger over the image of you, naked, legs spread as you fucked yourself to orgasm. Maybe he’s just stunned. Or maybe, he likes it. There is no time to figure out which as he begins rifling through everything in your head so fast that it turns into a whirlpool and you can’t keep up. All you manage to recognize are some scenes from the Harry Potter movies. And as quickly as he entered your mind, he pulls out, leaving you gasping for breath. You’re a little smug as you hear him also trying to catch his breath, and there is a satisfying reddish tinge to his cheeks; though he looks more confused than ever.
“See something you like?” you ask sweetly, smirking.
“I don’t understand,” he says.
“Which part? The part where I was touching…” You don’t get to finish as he quickly interrupts.
“You come from a place with… no magic.”
“Oh. Yes. That would be the real world. As opposed to this world, which is the dream world.”
“And you’re from… the future…” he seems to be talking more to himself than to you. You can see him trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. “I saw things that have not happened yet.” He rushes at you, slamming you back against the wall with his hand fisted in your sleep shirt. “How do you know of these things?”
“Because I’ve seen all the movies and read the books a hundred times!” you choke out. “I’ve pretty much memorized them at this point. Big fan of yours, by the way…”
Without warning, you feel him dive into your mind again and you can see he is looking specifically for information on himself. You try to block him, try to imagine Snape standing in the doorway of your mind and then try to picture yourself closing that door. You don’t want him to see the scene of his own death. Somehow, you manage to break the connection and you feel Snape retreat with a sharp flick, shocking both Snape and yourself.
Aggressively, he let’s go of your sleep shirt and glares at you. “So, you’re not a muggle after all.”
“I didn’t know I’d be able to do that. But I figured since it’s a dream, I may as well try.”
“For the last time, this is not a dream.” Frustrated, he begins to pace.
“What year is it here?”
“1997,” he snaps.
“Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince,” you gasp. Holy shit! It’s the year he kills Dumbledore!
“What?”
“It’s the sixth book in the Harry Potter series. You saw that, in my head, didn’t you? But it’s actually 2021 so therefore… dream.”
“Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince,” he grumbles. “Of course, they would name it that…” Abruptly, he storms across the room to a bookshelf and grabs a book. Flipping it open, he reads a few pages, slams it shut and shoves it back on the shelf. “It is not possible,” he says again, eyes boring into you like you were the most frustrating thing on the planet.
Something was starting to feel off. You couldn’t remember a dream where you had ever been this aware of yourself and your surrounds. You could feel everything; your heart thundering in your chest, the cold air, the lust heating your blood. You could smell the subtle, heavenly scent of pine, cedarwood and old books. Becoming unsettled, you hug your arms around yourself as fear prickles at the back of your neck. “What’s going on?”
Snape sighs, drops down into an armchair and runs his hands through his hair. “I have a theory; however, it is only a theory.”
Left standing in front of him, you fiddle nervously with the hem of your sleep shirt and shift your feet. Now that the tension has eased somewhat, Snape must have noticed the cold because, with a wave of his wand, he starts a roaring fire in the fire place. Another wave of his wand produces another armchair.
“Sit.” It was an order, not an invitation. But at least he seemed to no longer deem you a threat.
So, you sit.
“Have you heard of the Many Worlds Theory?”
You tilt your head, thinking. “As in, the Multiverse Theory? Where, hypothetically, there are multiple universes made up of everything, of every possible outcome that could ever exist?”
“Indeed.” He raises an eyebrow in surprise of your knowledge.
You shrug. “Yeh, I know science.”
“So it would seem.” He rests his elbows on the arms of his chair and brings his hands together, finger tips to finger tips. “In any case, I believe that is a possible answer to what is happening here. Only, it isn’t supposed to be possible to travel between alternate universes.”
Your stomach gives a flutter. For a normal person, it would have been a nervous flutter. For you, it’s a flutter of hope. “Then, how would I have got here?”
“You said you were dreaming?”
“Yeh.”
“What were you dreaming?”
You lick your lips and look him in the eye. “About you, actually.”
His lips part slightly as he draws in a quiet breath, making him look so incredibly sexy you almost whimper. Fuck you want to kiss those lips, bite them as you run your nails down his back. You can feel your willpower waning. Ever since you’d first read Harry Potter, you had been drawn to the mysterious character of Severus Snape. As you grew, so your admiration for the character turned to desire – especially due to Alan Rickman’s perfect, brilliant portrayal in the movies. This Snape, sitting across from you, looked pretty much exactly like Alan Rickman would have looked at the age of thirty-seven. Part of you knew you should be worried about possibly being stuck in another universe. But it was only a small part. You knew you should also be focusing on how you got here, should probably ask to see Dumbledore. No doubt he would have some ideas. The very thought makes you grimace. You can’t stand Dumbledore and his manipulative, Machiavellian ways. More than anything, you just wanted this to be real; wanted it to be Severus Snape sitting there in the flesh, someone you could touch, kiss… fuck. Your thighs clench together involuntarily. Snape notices and the corner of his mouth twitches up, his eyes shining with dark, sultry promises.
“How interesting,” he says in a low voice.
“Is it? I can make it more interesting.”
He leans back in his chair, completely at ease even though he is still half naked. It’s a challenge. Impress me, he seems to be saying. The change of attitude leaves you feeling a little giddy, but this is where you were wanting things to go, so you decide to push it. Slowly, deliberately, you stand and walk over to him while he watches your every move. He stays still as you lean down, brace yourself with your hands on the arms of his chair, causing your sleep shirt to gape so that all Snape had to do was look down and he would see your entire body. You bring your face closer to his.
“Is this interesting?” you whisper, hovering your lips over his.
He smirks. “This isn’t a dream, remember. Your actions will have… consequences.”
“Oh? And what would be the consequences if I were to do this?” You close the miniscule gap between your lips and kiss him.
He makes a low rumbling sound deep in his throat and faster than you can blink, he stands, pushes you against one of the posts of his large, four-poster bed, and secures both of your wrists above your head with one of his large hands. His other hand wraps around your throat and he sneers at you. “Is this how you act around strangers, (y/n)? Foolish girl. Such behaviour can get you into trouble.”
It’s the first time he has said your name. The way it rolls off his tongue as he enunciates each syllable has your pussy throbbing. You shudder at his words and try to shift your body closer to his. “I welcome trouble,” you say with a sly grin. “But you’re not a stranger to me. I’ve known you most of my life and I’ve admired you for as long as I’ve known you.”
Snape brings your arms down, one wrist in each of his hands, wraps them behind the post and holds them there. This new position straightens your back, pushes your breasts out so that they press against his bare torso. You wish with a desperate longing that your sleep shirt wasn’t there to create a barrier between your bodies. You want skin on skin. Snape forces his knee between your legs to spread them apart and looks down at you, eyes glittering dangerously. He reminds you of a panther; sleek, fast and beautiful.
“I am not one to be admired.” There’s a sadness in the way he says it, though he tries to disguise it as sarcasm.
It pulls at your heart strings and you wish you could wrap your arms around him, but they’re currently trapped behind you so you resort to words. “Are you questioning my taste?” you retort. “I’ll have you know I have excellent taste and am an excellent judge of character. So, if I say you are someone to be admired, then you are. And, if I say you are someone to be desired,” you lower your voice, add a breathy, seductive tone, “then you are.”
“Do not toy with me,” he snarls. “No one has ever desired me.”
“Not that you know of,” you counter. “But you know of one now. Me. Let me show you.”
He squints at you. You can see he wants to give in to his rising lust, wants to believe you, but part of him is still suspicious. He isn’t used to good things falling into his lap; in this case, almost literally. He just needs one more push.
“I want you, Severus Snape. If this is an alternate world or whatever, then it means I’m really here. And it means you are a real person; something I have wished for a very long time. You saw me, pleasuring myself while thinking about you. But I want your hands on me, Severus. I want your cock inside me…” You press yourself against him as best you can and you feel a significant bulge straining to break free from his boxers. “Touch me, Severus. See how wet I am for you.”
Snape’s breathing grows heavier. “The safety word is gillyweed,” he growls. “And just remember, you asked for it.” Now he is a panther on the hunt. And you are his prey.
He doesn’t utter a single incantation but you feel ropes begin to bind your arms behind the bed post, winding up from your wrists to your elbows. He grabs your chin and crashes his lips against yours. It’s a rough, passionate, greedy kiss. He pushes his tongue past your teeth and explores your mouth, moaning, and you melt. He tastes like peppermint and his scent of pine and cedarwood fills your nostrils. You feel drunk, surreal, scarcely able to believe what is happening. His other hand grasps your sleep shirt, gives a sharp tug that rips the buttons and it falls open. As he starts to pull away from the kiss, you catch his bottom lip between your teeth and bite, hard. You hear his breath hitch and he groans as he tugs his lip free.
“Feeling feisty, are we?” he jeers, taking a step back so he can drink in the sight of your naked body, bound and at his mercy.
Your juices are flowing and you feel the heat of arousal flushing your cheeks. You’ve never felt so on display before, and you love the way his slow gaze travels over your body, lingering on your breasts, your dripping cunt. You have to force yourself not to become a begging mess. You want to see what he will do with you – to you. “Always. And especially for you.”
He stalks forward, winds your (y/h/c) hair into his fingers and yanks your head to the side. “What else will you be for me, hmmm?”
With lips, tongue and teeth, he assails your neck and you sigh, arching your body in pleasure. His other hand works its way around to grab your ass and he yanks the lower half of your body towards him, forcing you to move your feet forward. Only the bed post and the ropes prevent you from falling backwards. His lips move down your neck as he takes his hand from your hair to join the other on your ass. Then he glides them around to your hips and up the sides of your waist before finally taking hold of your breasts, cupping them and working his thumb around each nipple. You let out a low moan, then a more high-pitched moan as he gives both nipples a sharp pinch. “You’re going to be my good little slut, aren’t you, (y/n)?”
“Yes, professor,” you whimper.
Abandoning your breasts, he drags his hands down your torso and moves to stand beside you, then wraps one leg around yours and pries your legs wider apart, keeps it there so you can’t close them. One hand goes back to cupping your ass cheek and the other glides down your stomach towards the burning heat of your cunt, and stops. “Good sluts get to cum. Do you want to cum, slut?”
Shit, you think. He’s going to make me beg. “Please, professor. Yes, oh fuck yes.”
“Say it. Beg for it.”
Fuck it. You let go and sink into obedience, look at him with your (y/e/c) eyes wide and pleading. “Please, professor. Please make me cum. I want to cum for you. Please…”
“So pretty,” he murmurs against your ear, breathes in deep, inhaling the (y/f/s) conditioner you use for your hair. “So eager to please.”
Finally, his large, warm hand slides down and over your pussy, his middle finger parting your lips. Feeling how wet you are, he exhales a groan full of want and desire and lust. “So wet…”
Waves of pleasure roll through you as he continues to stroke you, drawing slow circles over your clit then dipping down to insert a finger into your tight hole. Of their own accord, your hips start to gyrate, trying to increase the speed and pressure. Snape stops, pulls his hand back, only to bring it down in a smarting slap right on your pussy, sending you reeling with a jolt of acute pleasure. He chuckles, a deep sound that resonates to your core, heating your blood, and wraps his leg tighter around and over yours.
“Tsk,” he chides. “If you cannot control yourself, I’ll have to do it for you. Don’t. move.”
“Yes, professor.” You’re desperate to cum. You would do whatever it takes.
Snape resumes his slow, lazy ministrations, working into a rhythm of circling your clit, pushing a finger into you then pulling out to circle your clit again. It’s driving you wild. His mouth latches onto your breast, biting, licking and sucking on your nipple. Your orgasm is building but he doesn’t let you get there, delaying it with his leisurely pace, torturing you with prolonged pleasure. You’re a sighing, whimpering and moaning mess. His skilled hands know exactly what they are doing. Just when you think he is never going to let you cum, he speeds up, pumps his finger in and out, curls it up to hit your sweet spot. Your climax soars, peaking when he bites your nipple hard and drags it between his teeth. It’s so intense you lose all other senses, unable to concentrate on anything else but the sensation ripping through your core like a violent storm, and you hear yourself cry out as though from a great distance. Several minutes pass before you climb out of the haze, open your eyes to see Snape licking his fingers.
“Delicious. I want more.” Smirking, he drops to his knees in front of you, grasps you firmly by the hips, leans forward and runs his tongue up the full length of your slit.
Still sensitive from your first orgasm, you tremble and twist. His grasp on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he sinks his tongue inside you. Relishing at the taste of you, he moans, pushes his tongue as deep as he can, then removes it to go to work on your clit, flicking, circling, dining on you like a man starved. You wish you could tangle your fingers into his hair, but he’s taken that opportunity away. Ever so gently, Snape grazes his teeth over your clit and you jump, squealing in surprise. Up and down and around he goes, taking his sweet time, edging you closer and closer to climax. He pushes two fingers inside you and focuses his tongue, lips and teeth on your clit. For a brief, lucid moment, you wonder if it is possible to die from pleasure, and then all reason leaves as your orgasm comes crashing down, your juices coating Snape’s hand and tongue. He curls his fingers inside you and your climax peaks higher. You feel yourself shaking uncontrollably, your pussy engulfed in warmth and wetness and pulsating pleasure. The onslaught doesn’t stop. Even as Snape starts to slow his actions, it only serves to drag your climax out, milking every ounce of pleasure he can from you. And he hasn’t even fucked you yet.
Snape stands and watches you sway in ecstasy for a moment before shoving his fingers in your mouth. “Suck.”
You obey, sucking at his fingers and tasting yourself. Knowing you probably shouldn’t, but unable to resist, you clamp your teeth down on his finger. He growls and tries to pull his finger free but you keep your teeth clenched so that his finger has to drag through them. When the tip of his finger reaches your teeth, you bite down again, hard.
He hisses, rips his finger free and wraps his hand around your throat, squeezes slightly and kisses you roughly, biting your lip. “Tsk. Still so feisty. Perhaps a spanking will teach you a lesson, hmmm?”
With a wave of his wand, he frees your arms from behind the bed post, but before you can enjoy the feeling of freedom, he pulls your wrists together in front of you and binds them. He then forces you to turn around, bends you over at the waist and ties your bound wrists back to the bed post.
“I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you,” he says as he runs his hands over your ass. “What is the safety word?”
“Gillyweed,” you answer. Adrenalin is coursing through your veins and your heart pounds in fearful anticipation.
He takes his position and you tense. “Prepare yourself!”
You don’t know how else you’re meant to prepare so you just close your eyes and hold on to the post. The first smack hits you on your right ass cheek. You flinch automatically, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, it sends a ripple of pleasure to your cunt.
“Count!” Snape orders.
“One.”
The second hits your left ass cheek. “Two!”
He spanks you a total of ten times and by the end, your ass is stinging, but your cunt is dripping with need once more. There’s no time to recover. He’s scarcely finished the tenth smack when he grabs your hips and drives his cock all the way into you with a vicious snarl of pleasure. You gasp in shock. He’s big; big enough for it to be a little painful as he stretches you, fills you. Though he had warned it wasn’t going to be gentle, he does give you a moment to get used to his size, reaching a hand under you to play with your clit, relaxing you so you open to him like a flower. You don’t even know when he had removed his boxers and you’re disappointed you weren’t given the opportunity to see him fully naked. But the disappointment quickly fades as, feeling you are ready, he fists a hand into your hair, yanks your head back and begins to move inside you. He pulls out to the tip and thrusts back in, pulling on your hair to stop you being pushed forward. You try to thrust your hips back to meet him and he smacks your ass, digs his fingers into your hip as he thrusts again.
“Such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir,” you moan.
“Tell me.” He thrusts once more and yanks your hair. “Let me hear you say it.”
You fill your voice with desperation, hoping to egg him on. “I’m a slut for your cock, professor. I need it. I want it. Fuck me, professor, please. Fuck me.”
An animalistic growl is his only reply as he begins to quicken his pace, plowing into you with fierce abandon, smacking your ass cheek every so often. His thrusts start to become more erratic and he lets go of your hair, locks his hands onto your hips to steady himself as well as you. Both of you are panting, sweat flying off your bodies and you’re holding on to the bed post for dear life. Snape starts grunting loudly, his cock swells within you and you know he’s about to cum. Severus Snape is about to cum in you. It sends you over the edge. Your third orgasm rips through you, an explosion that has you seeing stars. Snape is cursing and grunting as his own orgasm hits, filling you to overflowing with his hot cum. You’re only partially aware of the fact that you are sobbing his name over and over, saying it like it’s a lifeline keeping you tethered to earth as your orgasm stretches to new heights. When it finally starts to recede, Snape gently pulls his cock out and you feel his cum – and probably your own – running down your legs. He removes your bindings, mutters a quick contraceptive spell and a cleaning spell, picks you up in his arms and carries you to the bed, tucking you in under the covers.
You’re spent, completely exhausted and thoroughly satisfied. Snape crawls into the bed and pulls you to him so he can wrap you in his arms, spooning you. Little kisses caress your shoulder. “Sleep, now, love,” he whispers.
The heat from his body lulls you and you sigh in contentment. “Glad this turned out not to be a dream…” you say, on the verge of sleep.
Snape laughs softly. “So am I.”
With a smile on your lips, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man who had once been a fantasy, but was now a reality.