InsaneJournal

Challenge Fic: ~It Was a Dark and Stormy Night~ NC-17
Title: It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
Pairing: Snape/Myself
Rating: NC-17
Summary: When the lines between fantasy and reality blur....

This was written for The Potion Master's Muse's Mary Sue Challenge, and tied for fifth place out of twelve.


The Rules:
· The story may be no longer than 15 pages in length (not including author’s note)
· Must include yourself or someone you know as the OFC—no Hermione and no OFC from another fic allowed.
· There must be at least one sex scene between you and Snape (how explicit is up to you, but if you try to ‘cheat’ on this part your story will be disqualified and you will serve detention with Filch).
· You may write yourself as a muggle, squib or witch, and may use your author name or real name in the story. You may make yourself any age, but at least 18.
· Snape must try to perform legilimency on you or use occlumency against you.
· At least one canon character must see you and Snape snogging.
· A portrait must say something snarky about your affair with Snape
· Snape must say ‘Potion Master's Muse’
· There must be a reference to one thousand members (or a thousand of something)
· Hermione must have a cameo where she is upset

Include at least 8 of the following:

o Snape saying “Reveal Your Secrets
o Snape saying “How disappointing”
o Snape saying “Going for a little walk in the moonlight”
o Snape saying “Insufferable know-it-all”
o Snape saying “How I hoped I’d be the one to catch you”
o Snape saying “As an antidote for your…”
o Snape saying “Do I detect a flicker of fear?”
o Snape saying “Clearly it’s full of dark magic”
o Kneeling before Snape
o A reference to Snape ‘playing with his chemistry set’
o Hermione sobbing in the corner
o A house elf serving you breakfast and making an eyebrow-raising comment
o Billowing Black Robes
o Cracking a cauldron
o Slamming shutters
o Sirius Black and fleas
o The giant squid
o Dumbledore and McGonagall taunting (friendly) Snape for choosing you
o Using a magical item as a sex toy
o Greying underpants
o The trio (H/R/Hr) see the two of you at The Leaky Cauldron
o You and/or Snape insult Sirius Black in some way
o Snape missing a class/staff meeting/Order meeting because he’s with you



Thanks to Marvelous Moaning Myrtle, Beta Mistress Extraordinaire.


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It Was A Dark and Stormy Night

**********************************

It was a dark and stormy night.

I laughed at myself for thinking that, even if it was true. I was working the overnight 6-6 shift at the plant which was closed down for maintenance. Very little was going on in my area of responsibility. In fact, I was the only one in my building. Rules dictated that there be a qualified operator in the building even during shutdown and I had drawn the short straw. Maynard was running the boiler house, supplying steam, hot water and compressed air for the rest of the facility and Bill was in the main control room, monitoring the alarm systems and phones. The contractors and maintenance guys were up in Building 15, working on the machinery there. My section was fairly quiet except for the semi-automated acid washing that was going on. I was wandering around the tanks, checking for leaks, when I thought I heard my two-way radio. The mike was clipped to my collar and the volume was all the way up as usual but I was wearing hearing protection (as required by OHSA regs) and the big Waukasha pump next to me had just ticked on. I moved away from the pump a bit and keyed the mike.

“Somebody call me?”

“Hey, Ugly!” It was Bill.

“What chu want?!” I had to yell into the mike.

“Those shutters up in SPL are slamming; can you close ‘em down?”

“I’ll try.” I sighed. The SPL area, as the top level was called, was three long flights of stairs away. Bill must have seen the blowing shutters on one of his video monitors.

As soon as I was up a couple of flights, the noise level inside the building decreased considerably and the sounds of the storm outside made themselves heard. The huge building was made of mostly un-insulated corrugated steel; hot in the summer, cold in the winter and drafty year round. There was a hurricane slamming the New England coast and our sprawling factory sat right on the waters of Dark Harbor.

Bill and I had been watching the water closely. High tide was due in a couple of hours and the water was already washing over the sea wall in several places. It was not unheard of for the cold water of the Atlantic to flood into the buildings with the biggest waves of a bad storm.

Even before entering the SPL area, I could hear the big wooden shutters slamming in the wind. Coming into the room, I was hit with a gust of wet wind. Driving rain was flooding the floor, making the footing treacherous. The product we made at the plant was dusty and the residue got everywhere. When mixed with water, it became unbelievably slippery. Walking on wet floors that had any product dust on them was a bit like walking on wet ice. The soles of my steel toed boots were designed for slippery footing, but remaining upright could still be a challenge at times. I wrestled the first shutter closed and jammed the latch down, then paused to look out into the night from the second half of the open window. The lighthouse at the breakwater was invisible through the storm but there were enough lights around the harbor to show the occasional silhouette of one of the many boats riding out the storm at anchor. The one I was looking for was the 85’ black hulled schooner: the Potion Master’s Muse. She had at least tripled her anchors and at dusk did not seem to be dragging, but that didn’t make her immune to damage from other boats that were less securely moored.

I had a soft spot for the old wooden sailing ships and the Muse was a particularly fine example of one. Built in the late 1800s in Christmas Cove, Maine, for the East India trade route, she now sailed out of Dark Harbor on week-long passenger cruises. With her sweeping clipper bow, the topsail schooner was, to my mind, one of the best looking boats in the local Windjammer fleet. Try as I might, I could not catch a glimpse of her in the storm and I should have been able to if she wasn’t drifting. I spared a brief prayer for all those riding out the storm at sea.

The shutter I wanted to secure was wedged open. Leaning out, I tried to yank it free. After getting thoroughly wet from the hips up I had almost decided to leave it open as it wasn’t blowing but being stubborn, I gave it one more try. Leaning way out I yanked on the edge of the frame. Quicker than spit, my feet went out from under me and I was falling -- falling through the raging wind and rain to the rocks and water some 60’ below.

Remarkably little went through my mind as I fell. I think I simply couldn’t grasp the fact that I was most likely about to die. It seemed to be happening in slow motion, as though the air were getting thicker. I was almost starting to panic because I hadn’t landed on anything when I hit the ground. I landed on my back on solid, level ground; rather gently, all things considered. No jagged rocks. No water. No water at all. It wasn’t even raining. There was no sound of wind and wave either.

I gasped like a fish out of water until my lungs managed to draw enough air to re-inflate themselves. I had lost my hardhat and radio in the fall but still had my glasses. Good thing as I was blind as a bat without them. As I blinked and tried to focus, I wondered whether they weren’t maybe broken after all. Standing over me was a most unlikely looking figure. Tall, long black hair obscuring half his face, a man was pointing something at me.

“Identify yourself!” The deep voice was obviously used to wielding authority.

“What the hell...?” I propped myself up on my elbows and looked around. I was laying next to the wall of a very tall stone building. In the other direction, a grassy lawn sloped to a vaguely seen forest. The night was dark, the moon obscured behind a heavy layer of clouds. “Where am I?”

“You fell from the roof. Identify yourself!”

I ran my hand over my head but didn’t feel any lumps, holes or even sore spots. I made sure my arms and legs worked before looking back up at the man with the deep voice. He was wearing what looked like a full length cape and holding... a wand? My mind started to bog down. He seemed to sense my impending panic.

“Can you tell me your name?” The voice had lost a little of its edge.

Glad there was something I was sure of I answered readily. “Mary Sue Worthington.”

“You’re American.”

“Yeah, and you’re not.” I looked around. “Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I rolled to my feet and promptly lost my balance, landing on my knees in front of my inquisitor.

“Are you ill?”

I sat back on my heels and laughed rather shakily. “Well, something sure isn’t right. I fell out of the high window of a building in New England during a hurricane and I’ve landed... where? Oz?”

Coming to a decision, he stuffed the wand, or whatever it was, inside his cloak and grabbing my arm, hauled me to my feet. He removed his hand and looked at it in surprise. “You’re wet!”

“I told you. There was a hurricane going on. I was trying to refasten the shutter and see if the Potion Master’s Muse was dragging anchor and I fell.” My bewilderment was growing by the second.

“The Potion Master’s Muse -- what is that?”

“A topsa’l schooner.” I looked up into the scowling face with a feeling of utter hopelessness. I had no idea what was going on.

Clearly he didn’t either.

“A ship. A boat.” I tried to elaborate.

Turning on his heel he barked, “Come,” and set off in a swirl and billow of black cloak.

“Right,” I muttered and tottered after him.

After about 10 steps he turned to watch my unsteady progress. When I got near him, he took my arm firmly but not roughly and led me around the corner of the building. Stopping in front of a shallow alcove, he withdrew the wand from his cloak and pointed it at the stones. He murmured something and the wall suddenly wavered as though I was looking at it through a fall of water. With a firm grip on my arm, he pulled me through it.

“Whoa!” I gazed around in wonder. We were walking down a dimly lit corridor hung with old paintings of even older-looking people. He stopped by a blank spot on the wall but before he could say anything a woman’s voice came from my left making me jump.

“Really, Severus; she looks like something the cat dragged in. You may be ugly but surely you could do better than that!”

I spun around but saw only a portrait of a finely dressed woman with an imperious face.

“Shut up!” My escort snarled, then pointing his wand at the wall murmured, “Reveal your secrets.” A door appeared in the stones and without ceremony, he dragged me through and dumped my on a couch in front of a fire.

I looked around the room. The walls were paneled in a warm light oak in the few places where they weren’t covered with floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Oriental rugs in rich reds and blues were scattered about the wide boards of the floor. Lighting came from oil lamps in various sizes and shapes, each more elegant than the other. My “host” was hanging his cloak on a rack by the door; he followed it with his frock coat. The light revealed a lean muscular frame and a long face with a rather hooked nose. My eyes were fascinated with the long fingers loosening the top buttons of the snow white shirt. I knew this man.

In a few long, graceful strides he was in front of me. Drawing up the coffee table, he sat, his knees almost touching mine.

“Look at me.”

I complied, gazing into the bottomless depths of his black eyes. After a moment, I got the sensation of something crawling about in my mind. He started back.

“You know who I am and where you are; how did you get onto the school grounds?” I noticed his wand was in his hand.

The world was starting to tilt. Tears of frustration and fear prickled the back of my eyes but I blinked them away.

“Yes, I know who you are, Professor Snape, but...” I looked around the room frantically. “You’re not real!”

“I assure you, I am very real.” He reached out a long finger and touched my knee, grounding me. The touch reminded him that I was soaking wet.

“Listen -- this night,” he hesitated. “Clearly, it’s full of dark magic. We have to talk and you need your wits about you. Would you like to get cleaned up?”

I realized I was shaking; partly from the wet, partly from fear, mostly from shock.

“Yes.” I closed my eyes.

He stood and offered a hand to help me rise. “Go in there and toss out your clothes. There are plenty of towels and a robe on the back of the door.” He gave me a gentle push toward a narrow door at the back of the room.

I went into the well-appointed bathroom and skinned out of my wet and dirty clothes. I threw them out the door and turned on the shower. There was lovely soap that smelled of amberwood and a shampoo of the same scent. I used them both lavishly. My short hair – a glance in the mirror had told me – was stringy and lank and what wasn’t matted to my scalp was standing up in spikes. I inhaled the fragrant steam and tried not to think about what was going on. Too soon, I was rubbing myself with a big soft towel and wrapping up in an oversized black terrycloth robe. I used the comb I had removed from my jeans pocket to straighten out the rat’s nest on my head and found some moisturizer by the sink. Raising an eyebrow in surprise, I spread it liberally over my face and hands. ’Why not? It isn’t real anyway.’ The lotion had the same amberwood scent.

Returning to the living room, I found Professor Snape standing by the bookshelf, studying an old leather-bound volume.

“Do you feel better?” His beautiful deep voice was soft as velvet.

“Yes and no.” I sat on the couch and he handed me a glass of liquid: light lavender and slightly viscous. I swirled it around in the glass and sniffed it. It had a light flowery smell. “What is it?”

He sat facing me on the coffee table again.

“A combination of things. As an antidote for your... adventure.”

I shrugged. “Why not? This isn’t real and I’m probably already dead anyway.” I tossed back the liquid. It was a bit sweet.

He took the glass from my hand and set it aside, then picked up a gently steaming mug and placed it in my hands. I sniffed this as well.

“Chamomile tea and brandy?”

He smiled. “That’s right. Another antidote.” He leaned forward, very close to me. “Now tell me. What did you mean about my not being real?”

I took a big gulp of the tea and looked around the room.

“You. This. This is Hogwarts, right?” He nodded. “And Dumbledore’s the Headmaster and Harry Potter and the others are asleep upstairs somewhere?” He nodded again. I closed my eyes. “You don’t exist. You’re in my mind. You’re the invention of JK Rowling and none of this is real.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, I’m the invention of JK Rowling? Who’s he?”

“She. She wrote the books. I read the books. I’ve seen the movies!”

“What books? What movies? You mean those large moving Muggle pictures?”

“Right.”

“Books about Hogwarts?”

“About Hogwarts, about you, about Harry. This is all make-believe. It’s not real.” The surreal quality of the conversation was starting to panic me a bit. I realized that, overall, I was a lot calmer than I should be and wondered if it was the effect of the potion. I drank some more tea.

Snape was studying me. He wasn’t scary or awful, really. Not even bad looking. And that lovely, lovely voice... If I was dead, I could think of a lot worse places to be than on Snape’s couch wearing nothing but his bathrobe.

He got up and paced the room with long, catlike strides of elegance and grace. I smiled into my tea. He was better than JK Rowling had ever portrayed him. He came back and sat across from me again.

“Let me get this straight. A woman named JK Rowling has written books about Hogwarts? About all of us here and what’s going on in our world?”

“That’s right.”

He ran his fingers through his long black hair. It didn’t look the least bit greasy.

“And you. You were doing what? Closing shutters?”

I took another gulp of tea. It was really very good. “That’s right. I was at work, in America. There was a hurricane and some shutters on the top floor of this big building I work in had come loose and were blowing in the wind. I went up to see if I could secure them and fell out the window. I should have landed on a lot of rocks in shallow water. I should have died. I landed at your feet.”

He searched my eyes. “I was looking around trying to find Potter, Weasley and Granger, who are apparently out and about. Which reminds me: Dumbledore will think I’ve dropped off the face of the earth if I don’t report; I was supposed to meet with him 10 minutes ago. Anyway, I heard a sound – like a shutter banging in the wind – and when I looked up, you were falling. I slowed your fall as much as I could, but you still landed rather hard.” He stood abruptly and moved to the fireplace. Grabbing a pinch of something from a jar on the mantle, he tossed it in the flames and then stuck his head in. I winced, but it apparently didn’t hurt him any. A minute later, he withdrew and smoothed his hair with a long hand.

“Sorry, had to check in with Dumbledore. I didn’t want him coming here.”

“You didn’t tell him about me?”

“No,” he smiled. “Not yet.”

“Did they find the kids?”

“Hmmm?” He seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Yes.” He scowled. “How disappointing. How I’d hoped I’d be the one to catch them.” An evil smile lit his face and I wondered if maybe he was worse than Jo Rowling had portrayed him.

I sipped my tea and Snape seemed lost in thought still standing by the fire.

“So.” I shifted uneasily on the couch. “Am I dead?”

Snape came to with a start. “I hardly think so.”

I set the mug down, leaned my head back and despite my best efforts to prevent it, felt a tear slide down my cheek.

“Then what’s going on? How did I get here? Where is here? Is it real?” I looked at him through a blur of tears. “How do I get home? Will I be dead when I get there?” I was starting to shake.

Snape came and sat on the couch next to me. “Come here.” He drew me into his arms and comforted me.

“I can assure you that I am real. Who this JK Rowling is and why she is trying to expose us to the world I don’t know. How you got here I think I know. Getting you home shouldn’t too difficult, but doing it so the space/time continuum isn’t disturbed will be a bit trickier. That’s what I think happened to you. I think you fell through some kind of wrinkle in space and time.” He stroked my hair. “I am rather certain that you are alive, here and now.” I could hear the echo of a chuckle in his chest.

I had been gripping the material of his shirt at his sides. Opening my fists I trailed my hands down to his waist and settled them on his hips. Suddenly realizing what I was doing, I snatched them away. His hand came up and tipped my chin until I was looking in his eyes. They were bottomless wells of black and for a moment I was lost. Then my attention was drawn to his lips as they came closer to mine. I closed my eyes and felt the softness and warmth of his kiss.

His kiss was light, undemanding. His lips and tongue teased with soft kisses until I moaned and melted into him. He was instantly more forceful, sliding his tongue into my mouth and exploring and tasting all the corners. I returned his kiss with abandon, savoring the feel of his chest under my hands, of his arms around me. When he ended the kiss and pulled back I was feeling lightheaded.

“Do you still doubt that you’re alive?” The voice was caressingly gentle.

I took a deep breath. How many times had I passed up the chance to... And all in the name of being a “good girl.”

I swallowed. “Well, I’m not quite sure yet.” I looked up at him tentatively.

His eyes sparkled an invitation. “No?”

I slid my hands up the solid wall of his chest and slowly slipped the first button of the white shirt free. He sat still as my hands trailed down to the next button, spreading the shirt open as they went. I leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. He smelled of a heady mix of amberwood and man. Gently, I kissed and licked my way down his chest to the next button which my fingers slipped loose just before my mouth got there. I was almost at the last button before his belt when he shuddered and lifted my face in his hands.

His kiss was deep and rough and I returned it fiercely while my hands pulled his shirt out of his waistband and fumbled the last of the buttons free.

He stood, pulling me up with him and I smoothed the shirt over his shoulders and down his arms. Tossing the shirt on the couch, he grabbed my wrists and pulled me toward the doorway at the back of the sitting room. He pushed it open with his shoulder and the lamps lit automatically. It was his bedroom. Spacious and airy, the walls were covered in light green paper. A soft rug of forest green covered the floor and the bed was covered with a spread in shades of green swirled with white. I caught a glimpse of what looked like a Monet on the wall before he pushed me down on my back on the soft bed. Pulling the robe apart he flopped gracefully down beside me and grinned.

“Still not sure?”

I laughed and slid my hand between his legs. Proof of his arousal was hot against my palm. Fire blazed in his eyes and he claimed my mouth with his.

His hands and lips traveled my body; he seemed to know all the right places...

A thought came to me and I laughed. He lifted his face from my neck and raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” His voice was languid with passion.

“I was just thinking,” I smoothed the soft hair back from his face. “If you’re a figment of my imagination, well,” I grinned at him. “I have a very good imagination.”

His smile was soft and his lips vibrated against my skin as he dropped his head to kiss my breast. “I’ll try not to disappoint.”

And he didn’t. Imaginary or real, he was an awesome lover. Always seeming to know when to be rough, when to be gentle, when to back off, when to press ahead. And that velvet voice. He used it as a tool of seduction and arousal as effectively as he used his body. Giving me a break after my fourth (fifth?) orgasm, he lay on his back, pulling me half-way onto his chest. I stroked my hand down his belly, over the jut of his hip and down his thigh.

“Why are you doing this?” I almost hated to break the spell.

“Doing what? Making love to you?”

“Yes.”

He stroked my hair. “It isn’t often a woman falls out of the sky and lands at my feet. One shouldn’t ignore a gift from the gods.”

I snorted and gently wrapped my hand around his erection. “That’s me, all right. A gift from the gods.”

He drew a deep breath and arched his hips upward as my mouth closed on his cock.

“That’s right...” His voice trailed off.

I held nothing back from him. Everything I had ever learned or heard about, I tried. I focused on his reactions, drawing him closer and closer to orgasm then backing him off until, with a growl of “Enough!” he rolled over on top of me and thrust himself inside.

He was long enough and thick enough to fill me completely but not so big he hurt me when he drove himself hard and deep. We came together and he dropped on top of me, his face against my neck.

After our breathing returned to normal he raised his head and tossed his sweat dampened hair from his eyes.

“Shower?”

I nodded and he levered himself off of me, kissing my belly on his way. Extending his hand, he pulled me up and guided me to the bathroom door. I balked in the doorway and he looked at me with lifted eyebrows.

“This opened off the living room.” There was only one door.

“Yes,” he smiled. “When I needed it to.”

I shook my head and entered the accommodating room.

After a quick shower full of fragrant steam and laughter we were back in the bedroom. He pulled on his clothes and headed for the door. Moments later, he returned with my clothes, clean, dry and neatly folded, then left me to dress. I shook out the work clothes I had been wearing what seemed like a lifetime ago. The jeans were stained, bleach-spotted and had numerous tiny holes in the cuffs from contact with corrosives like nitric acid and granular bleach. The tee shirt had once been white but was now graying with a faded logo on the front. Smudges from grease and “Never Seize” marked the shirt front and back. Even my underwear was not much better. I always wore my worst clothes during shutdowns as it was not unheard of for them to get totally destroyed. My eyes opened wide in surprise. The tee shirt and underpants were almost white again! Briefly, I wondered what the house elves had used on them. I dressed in a hurry and after a quick look around the room (it was a Monet!) went out to the livingroom. If I ever met Jo Rowling, I could tell her a few things about her Potions Master.

Snape was reading again but closed the book when I entered.

“I think I can get you back.” He looked unhappy.

“But?” Clearly, there was a but.

He hesitated. “I’m not sure I can get you there safely.”

I nodded and looked at my feet for a long minute. Finally looking back up I tried a smile. “At least if I die, I’ve already been to heaven.”

A grimace crossed his face before he spoke. “I don’t think we should put it off any longer.”

I nodded then asked without any real hope. “I don’t suppose I could just catch a plane?”

He smiled sadly. “No.”

I took a deep breath, “Let’s go then.”

We were halfway down the hall when we heard the sound of crying. Holding a finger to his lips, Snape moved me against the wall and waved his wand in front of me. The air shifted and it seemed as though I was looking through a gauze curtain. I assumed I couldn’t be seen.

He walked to an alcove by a large window and holding his wand aloft, said, “Lumos!” The wand tip flared then gave steady light. Crouched it the corner of the alcove was a student. I almost choked as I recognized the girl who must surly be Hermione Granger.

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” The voice was cold enough to freeze the Atlantic.

“Professor Snape, I’m sorry!” Hermione spoke in a rush. “I was trying to help Neville with the potions homework but he cracked his cauldron when I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t think what had gone wrong and I only wanted to ask you and then I got lost. I’ve been here for hours...” Her voice trailed off under the fierce glare of the black eyes.

“Miss Granger. You have been at this school more than long enough to know that under no circumstances are students allowed near my quarters. If you weren’t such an insufferable know-it-all you would realize that those rules apply to you as well as everyone else.” Snape stopped suddenly. “Or is that just an excuse. Why were you looking for me Miss Granger?”

Hermione paled and tried to make herself smaller. “I did want to ask you something. I... I thought,” she stammered into silence.

“You thought what? That we’d be going for a little walk in the moonlight?”

I winced at the venom in the words. Hermione cowered but didn’t say anything. For a dizzying moment I wondered if the fan fiction writers could be right and she did have a crush on Snape.

“I assure you, Miss Granger, that any walk I took with you would be to the lake where I would cut you up in a thousand pieces and feed you to the giant squid.” His voice was more of a hiss and she squeaked in alarm.

“Do I detect a flicker of fear?” He paused but she was frozen like a bird before a snake. “Perhaps you are capable of learning.” The words dripped sarcasm. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “Follow me and I’ll show you the way out. See me tomorrow after class about your two weeks of detention and if I ever catch you anywhere near my rooms or out of your dormitory after hours again I will have you expelled.”

He stormed off down the hall with Hermione trotting to keep up.

For five minutes I waited in the darkened corridor before he was back, moving silently over the stone floors. Removing the curtain from in front of me, he placed a hand in the small of my back and guided me forward. Within moments I was totally lost and was glad to have his hand for guidance in the dark hallways. The rubber soles on my boots made no sound and we moved like ghosts through the sleeping castle. After enough stairs to make me dizzy we came out on top of a tower. The night air was crisp and the clouds seemed to have cleared. The quarter moon lit the wild landscape and reflected off the lake.

He led me to the parapet and pointed down. “That’s where you landed.”

I nodded and watched him draw his wand. He studied me for a moment and I suddenly knew what he was thinking.

“Oh, no! Please, don’t take my memory. Please, Professor Snape! I can’t hurt you. I wouldn’t hurt you. Please. Please, don’t!” I was starting to cry. “I’m probably going to die anyway. If I don’t...” His expression was stony. “Please, Severus?” I whispered.

He reached out and enveloped me in his billowing black robes. I clung to him trying to lose myself in the warmth of his arms, in the scent and feel of him.

“All right, Mary Sue, all right. I won’t Obliviate you, though I really think I should. Don’t cry.” His voice sounded a bit awkward.

I wiped my face with my hands and looked up. “Thank you.” It was a whisper.

He lowered his lips to mine and gave me a gentle kiss. A sudden rasping yowl made me jump. I looked around at a scrawny tiger cat sitting on the wall not far away.

“Mrs. Norris.” Snape’s voice wasn’t particularly pleasant. He pointed his wand at her. “Scat!”

She fled.

He set me away from himself, then cupped my cheek with his hand. “I can’t promise you...” He let it trail off.

“I know.” I tried to sound brave.

He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead, then stepped back and touched his wand to the same spot. I heard him start to utter an incantation but almost immediately his voice faded and there was a roaring in my ears. The sights of the night faded to black and the world spun out from under me. I was falling...

*******************.

“Mary Sue! Mary Sue!” The unknown voice was insistent.

The world came flooding back in a rush. I gasped and sat up. Immediately, restraining hands were on my shoulders, easing me back against the pillow. I seemed to be in a hospital room. A couple of people in surgical scrubs were looking at me with concern.

“What happened?” I was confused.

“You were at work. One of your co workers found you. You were unconscious on the floor. He seemed to think you had fallen and hit your head. The ambulance brought you here to the emergency room.”

I felt over my head. It seemed fine. “Unconscious?”

“Yes. But we can’t seem to find any reason for it. You’ve been x-rayed and they show nothing. We’d like to keep you the rest of the night and do some tests tomorrow.”

I barely heard her. Memories were tumbling back so fast I could hardly sort them out, let alone make sense of them. Severus Snape, Hogwarts. I shivered. Making love.

“I don’t think you were out very long before they found you but you’ve been here awhile.” The nurse looked at me. “Are you all right?”

I gulped. It had been a dream. Of course it was a dream. There is no Hogwarts, no Professor Snape. There had been no loving...

“Fine. I feel fine.” I was back. Back? I’d never gone anywhere. Of course I hadn’t. I wasn’t Dorothy and I hadn’t been anywhere near Oz. Or a handsome wizard with a velvet voice, warm hands and ... I shook my head. As dreams went, it had been a doozie! I smiled. It was an experience I wanted to remember even if it was only a dream.

“We’re going to move you to a room now.” The nurse was unlocking the wheels on the gurney. “Here are your clothes.” She set a stack of things on my legs and started pushing the gurney down the hall. I picked up the clothes and shook them out prior to folding them.

They smelled of amberwood.

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