Chapter 1 "I must be dreaming"

Title: Desiderium Intimum
Autors: Ariel & Gobuss
Chapters: ~ 65 + E
Warning: NC-17, Lemon, Angst, Romance, Dark Fic!
Original fanfiction in Polish: http://arielgobuss.tnb.pl/viewpage.php?page_id=1
Translation: Christine & Mary (chapters 1-11) & Severus_divides_into_H (from chapter 12th)
Beta Reader: Aislin Avalbane
(every chapter has been checked by authors)

1. I must be dreaming

It's only in my mind
Not in real life
No, I must be dreaming*

When Harry Potter, a sixth-year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, woke up one rainy autumn morning, he had no idea that the coming day would be the worst day of his life. His magical mind sensed that something was wrong.

Something was brewing – like an echo of events that would follow and try to penetrate into his subconscious, along with a feeling of fear and nervousness. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to get up from bed. He felt that, if he tried to get up, the gates of hell would open under his feet.

But he did it. He got up ready to face what would come.
However, he did not expect “it” would come so quickly and suddenly.

As he left the dormitory, he tripped and, confused as he was, he slipped on the stairs and landed on the carpet in the Common Room. Some Gryffindor faces looked over at him with surprise. Groaning and rubbing his bruised hand, he got up from the floor and the Gryffindors, seeing that he was alright, didn’t pay any more attention.

“Great, just great,” thought Harry finding his broken glasses on the carpet. Red with embarrassment, he hastily put them back on his nose, wanting to disappear from the eyes of his amused roommates. He then remembered that he forgot to bring his books and had to return to the dormitory. Before he even had the time to turn around and head back up the stairs, his friends Ron and Hermione came over to him.

Ron tried to hold a very serious expression on his face, but it was rather impossible.

"You okay, mate?" he asked and burst out laughing. Harry gritted his teeth. Well, what else could he expect from him?

"Ron, how can you behave like that? Can’t you see that Harry almost got killed?"

Hermione looked at Harry worried. "Did you get hurt? Did something serious happen? Why don’t we go to Madam Pomfrey to take a look?"

Harry groaned inwardly.

"No, Hermione. There’s really no need."

"Well... ok then."

Surely, Hermione was not convinced, but at least she stopped bothering him.

She pointed at his glasses. "You broke them again." She observed as she pulled out her wand. "Oculus repa... ARGH!"

The spell turned to a cry of surprise and a groan of pain when Crookshanks jumped on her back and started climbing on her. The wand lit up and Harry felt something piercing his skin on his cheeks. He shouted in surprise when something long, thin and flexible began to grow on his face.

"Oh no!" Hermione covered her mouth with her hand and Ron doubled over trying to catch his breath while laughing.

"I’m so sorry, Harry!” she said when her friend pushed her aside and crossed the room. Harry looked in the mirror and saw on his cheeks long cat whiskers. He closed his eyes and repeated like a mantra: “Don’t panic, don’t worry… Inhale, exhale, they’re your friends and they only wanted to help --”

"I think that now, Harry, you must really go to the Hospital Wing," said Hermione embarrassed.

Harry could only sigh.

Oh yes, the gates of hell were opened to him, urging him to step across the threshold.


Madam Pomfrey wrung her hands when she saw him. However, seeing Harry's desperate face, she tried to calm him saying that she could heal him relatively quickly, but that it would be a painful process.

And it was.

After an hour of torture, during which time he was lying down and waiting for his whiskers to burn to such an extent they would be painless enough to root out, and then after an “uprooting” process, the only thing Harry wanted was to go back to bed and sleep through the nightmarish day. When he finally arrived at Divination class, it turned out that while he was going through this unbearable torture, his classmates were relaxing and resting. Firenze, the Centaur, gave them one of the relaxation lessons today, during which they laid down on the grass under the warm sun -- an illusion created by their professor – and listened to singing birds and chirping crickets, using the time for a nap.

Harry clenched his fists, hoping this nightmare would soon come to an end.

He was wrong.

In Transfiguration, for the first time in his life, Harry proved himself worse than Ron. Instead of transfiguring a turtle into a balloon, he turned the poor creature into an inflated flying turtle with a very stupid face. Moreover, when he tried to reverse the spell, the turtle popped and started flying around the class hitting anything that was in its way, until professor McGonagall restored order and punished Harry by taking ten points from Gryffindor.

After this lesson, Harry got rather depressed and all of Ron’s and Hermione’s attempts to cheer him up failed. He started seriously suspecting that a curse was upon him. In addition, he was very hungry, having missed breakfast while in the Hospital Wing. When lunchtime finally arrived, he felt truly relieved, but it was short-lived, since two hours of Potions with Snape were waiting for him after, and that was enough to spoil even the hungriest Gryffindor’s appetite.

Fortunately, this was the last class of the day.

Bearing in mind all that happened today, he was sure that this lesson would be the true brunt of the nightmare. Not that Potions class was ever pleasant, but now it seemed even worse. He hoped that, somehow, he’d get through it. Snape couldn’t possibly humiliate him with every chance! He decided, while eating lunch, he’d revise the lesson, just in case Snape tried to surprise them with a test, like he usually did. But when Harry looked in his bag he groaned with horror.

He had forgotten his Potions book!

"Harry, what --" Hermione asked, surprised by his behavior as Harry quickly got up from the table and jogged for the doorway.

"Later!" he shouted over his shoulder and ran to the dormitory.

When he reached the Gryffindor Common Room entrance, tired and sweating, he found the Fat Lady sleeping peacefully in her frame. It was then that he remembered that it was the day the password changed and he had forgotten to ask Ron and Hermione for the new one.


With a loud groan, he turned around and ran back to the Great Hall.

When he passed the door panting, the first thing he heard was the mocking voice of Draco Malfoy, who was sitting at the Slytherin’s table.

"What is it, Potter? Looking for your brain?"

The Slytherins roared with laughter.

Harry closed his eyes, sighing with exasperation. In his mind came a very exciting vision, in which he killed Malfoy with his own hands. But now he didn’t have the time! He would murder him later.

He ran to Ron and Hermione and gasped:

"Password... changed... Tell me -- "

"The password? You want to know the password to the Common Room? Golden Snitch," answered Hermione. "But, Harry, what happened?"

"Not now!" he spat and started running back to the Common Room for a second time. When he finally reached the entrance, he had the impression that somewhere along the way he lost his lungs. Gasping, he told the Fat Lady the password, waited until she had stopped complaining for interrupting her sleep, and ran to the Common Room and up to the dormitory. The books were at the bottom of his trunk. When he finally found them, he realized that he had entirely missed lunch and that class would soon begin. So, after cursing Snape, Potions, the stairs, the Fat Lady, and his trunk, he left the Common Room and started running to the stairs leading to the dungeons.

On the next floor he got trapped in a part of the castle from which there was no other way back, because the stairs moved in the wrong direction.

Horrified that he was late for class, he started running the corridors, trying to find an exit. In the end he descended some narrow and winding stairs that led him to a part of the castle completely unknown to him.

While he wandered the corridors, a fear was growing in his chest, and he thought that he didn’t even want to imagine what the Potions Master could do to him. He knew Snape. It was not allowed to be late for his class even a few seconds. He closed his eyes and started cursing everything that he hadn’t cursed earlier.

Finally, he found the way to the stairs and, praying that nothing else happened to him, he reached the door of the Potions Master’s classroom. He breathed a few times, trying to relax and calm his breath. He bit his lip nervously and touched the door handle, but before he opened it, a very pessimistic scenario of what could happen if he opened the door popped in his mind. He had a weird feeling that if he did it, it would be equivalent to trespassing the Gates of Hell.

Let’s examine the facts… This day was a very, very big disaster. If I go to Snape’s class, it will end up even worse. Maybe I should go back to Madam Pomfrey and try to get away? But, knowing Snape, if I don’t show up in his class, he will find me even in the deepest corner of the castle and drag him back.

It was obvious that he had no other choice. He sighed again and decided. He turned the doorknob.

Very soon, this would prove to be a bad decision.

The moment he got into the classroom, Snape's loud voice was heard:

"Ah, Mr. Potter has honored us with his presence. How grateful we are."

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, feeling fear mixed with anger begin to boil, pushing him into thick clouds of nervousness, but his face remained cool. He knew that this was only the beginning. Snape would become much, much worse…

"What was so important that stopped our little celebrity from arriving on time for my class?"

Harry thought that it would be better to die than to admit to Snape that he had forgotten his books. He had already started making up a convincing excuse, when he suddenly heard Draco Malfoy saying in a sweet voice:

"Professor, I can explain Potter’s delay." His eyes were gleaming maliciously. "Potter was unable to be present on time, because he was running around the castle, looking for his brain."

The Slytherins burst out laughing.

Harry could stand the insults, but the moment he saw a shadow of a smile on the Potions Master’s thin lips, he felt unrestrained rage firing up inside him.

"Shut up!" he hissed at Malfoy, hardly able to stop his hands from forming fists.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Potter!" Snape’s eyes gleamed revengefully.
"And another twenty for the delay! Now, sit down if you don’t want your House to lose more points!"

Harry’s eyes darkened. He refrained from saying anything further, despite a snide reply lingering on his tongue, and went to the end of the classroom to sit – the furthest from Snape he could get. He glared fiercely at Malfoy, and sat heavily on the bench before taking out his books.

"As I was telling you, before Mr. Potter interrupted us," Snape’s eyes pinned on Harry. "You will prepare an extremely difficult and rare elixir called Desiderium Intimum. Does anyone know what this potion is?"

Hermione’s hand shot up.

Snape’s eyes wandered the class, making sure that nobody else knew the answer and then growled harshly:

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione took a deep breath:

"The elixir Desiderium Intimum is known as the Elixir of The Deepest Desires. This is a very ancient elixir, and was banned until recently. It is a potion that is used to make one’s deepest desires known. The one who drinks it ceases to notice anything else and becomes a slave of their greatest desire. One cannot resist it." She finished with a particularly suggestive voice.

Snape pointedly ignored her answer, but it had caused a stir among the students.

"The main effects of this elixir are the evocation, revelation and, more so, the activation of a person’s deepest desires. Sometimes, the person under its effects doesn’t even realize their desires," Snape said with a dark voice.

Whispers of enthusiasm filled the classroom.

"On the blackboard," Snape waved his wand "are written the necessary ingredients and the method of preparation. You have time until the end of class. You may start."

The Potions Master returned to his desk and started checking essays. Harry had the unpleasant feeling that the dark eyes stayed on him a little longer than normal. He shook off the unpleasant impression, looked at the blackboard, and sighed with relief.

Fortunately, Snape did not test them today --

He got up and went to get the ingredients. Harry didn’t like the way the professor looked at him from time to time. He seemed like he was hiding something. Like he was planning something --

Harry was never very good at potions, and this nightmarish day only distracted him more, not allowing him to concentrate on his task. So, by the end of class, the potion, instead of having a blood-red color, was pink like cotton candy. Harry looked around the classroom wanting to see how the others were doing, and found, with relief, that almost nobody was able to get the desired color.

"End of time!" Snape’s sharp voice broke the silence that prevailed in the classroom and startled Harry, making him jump a little on his bench.

The professor got up from his desk and began to slowly walk around the classroom, nodding politely over the Slytherins’ potions and looking at Gryffindors' with a sarcastic smile on his face and virulent comments.

Harry froze, when Snape stopped at his pot and then heard the familiar sarcastic voice:

"Well, well… What have we here?" Snape bent over the cauldron and Harry unconsciously held his breath. "From what I see, Mr. Potter must worry far too much about his desires, since he made the worst potion of all present. He managed to beat even Longbottom, and this is a great achievement." The professor smiled vindictively, and laughter was heard from the Slytherins’ table. "Maybe we should help him discover his desires?"

Harry’s eyes grew round with horror.

What was that supposed to mean? Snape wanted... What did he want?

No, that’s impossible!

"I think that Mr. Potter should try the elixir and check its effects." Snape’s words confirmed Harry’s worse assumptions, which crept up to Harry’s cheeks. He felt like he was burning hot with anger and cold with fear at the same time. He looked valiantly at the dark eyes that were glittering maliciously and were pinned on him. Harry held his breath, trying not to look away or blink.

That was it! Snape had planned this from the beginning!

And Harry hated him so much for it!

The Slytherins were smiling with delight, while the Gryffindors fell into indignation.

"But professor," said Hermione "It’s forbidden to use potions on students!"

"Did I ask for your opinion?" growled Snape, glancing contemptuously at her. "Ten points from Gryffindor for responding without permission."

“I will not to be provoked!” thought Harry, who was trying to get away from this situation in any way he could. Then a very comforting thought crossed his mind: “Fortunately, I buggered up the potion, so nothing should happen if I drink it. I can only go bald or something. If I’m lucky.”

The feeling of victory depicted on his face with a fleeting smile, but Snape had already noticed it. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"But if Miss Granger has prepared her potion correctly, we will try her elixir on Mr. Potter"

Harry froze. He felt a cold sweat break out on his skin and chills ran down his spine.

He looked pleadingly at Hermione, as if praying, just once, she’d messed up her potion, but when the cauldron flew into the hands of Snape, he saw with horror the blood-red potion at the bottom of it. Hermione, with an apologetic look on her face, returned to the bench.

Harry swallowed hard.

"I won’t drink it", he said a bit louder than he wanted.

"Potter," said Snape softly, putting his hands on the desk and leaning over him. His black eyes, like bottomless wells, narrowed and dived into Harry’s, filling him with fear. "I can't force you to drink it. But I have a suggestion. If you don’t drink the potion, we will all sit here until you do it, and every five minutes I will take away fifty points from your House for insubordination and failing to obey teacher’s commands.”

Harry felt an icy wave of fear freezing his heart. He goggled his eyes, staring at the professor in disbelief. Snape smiled maliciously. For a moment he looked down on Harry, as if trying to penetrate the young man’s mind, and then turned around and walked to his desk, leaving the potion on his table.

"Do not rush, Potter. We have plenty of time," he said acrimoniously and then sat calmly at his desk taking the essays to re-check them.

All the eyes focused on Harry. The Gryffindors were looking at him with horror. The Slytherins with interest.

When Harry finally managed to overcome the first shock, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm his frantic heartbeats.

He opened his eyes and looked at the blood-red potion, feeling that his thoughts were sinking into panic, and that it was a matter of time until he started running like crazy to get away. Trying to control the chaos of his feelings, he thought “What will happen if I drink this potion? Everyone will know my deepest desire. Okay, but what is my deepest desire? I have no idea. Maybe my deepest desire is to become the best Seeker in the world. I could handle that. But if it’s not that, what could it be? What if I want something else? And what would happen if my deepest desire is to kill Malfoy? Hmmm -- That would be pretty interesting -- But the problem is that, if after I drank the potion I kill him, they would send me to Azkaban for my actions, or perhaps they would take mitigating circumstances into account because I would be acting under the influence of a potion and not of my own accord -- ”

"Fifty points from Gryffindor." Snape’s voice interrupted his thoughts and brought him back to reality.

Harry closed his eyes, feeling the words tearing at the wall of his resistance. If he didn’t drink this potion, Snape would not only take revenge on him, but the entire Gryffindor House would suffer, too. And even if Harry reported this to Dumbledore, Snape would find a way to have the last word on this matter. The Potions Master was capable of turning his life into hell.

He opened his eyes and, with trembling hands, he took the little bottle with the elixir. He pinned the professor, who was sitting at his desk, with eyes full of hatred. Snape raised his head and their eyes locked. Snape’s dark, bottomless eyes were looking straight at Harry’s green shining ones, and he felt all his resistance, his courage, his self-confidence being crushed, making sure that this time the man won. Harry could not stand the sight anymore. He looked away, feeling that he was shaking.

He looked again at the vial he held in his hand. His life could change completely. The elixir looked like blood – his own blood. And Harry hated the sight of blood.

He closed his eyes, feeling that any moment he would vomit from the terrible spinning his head seemed to be doing.

The image of Gryffindor House in last place for the competition for the House Cup appeared in his mind. He saw the looks of his classmates and was filled with remorse. He saw them face all the negative consequences of that placement and suffering because of him.

He had no other choice.

He had to do it.

He closed his eyes and drank the entire contents of the bottle in one gulp.

The bitter yet surprisingly sweet liquid poured into his body and, like the incredibly hot wave, which slowly spilled into every part of him, warmed him. Harry slowly opened his eyes, afraid of what he might see. But everything was exactly the same as before. Thirty pairs of eyes stared at him with rapt attention and anticipation. Harry stood at the center of the classroom, feeling very stupid. He shook his head full of relief, thinking Hermione had probably brewed the potion wrong; however, as the elixir took effect, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted, like somebody had cut them off. Something strange was happening with his eyes. Then he felt heat radiating from his chest, like someone had lit a fire within him.

The class upon which he was looking began to blur. He took off his glasses quickly, but nothing changed. The students and the tables moved away from him and everything fell into darkness. He felt as if something was interfering with his body and mind, separating him from everything he knew. Uncomfortable silence rang in his ears, his breathing quickened and his heartbeat sped up, but he could not feel it, because it seemed that even his own body had dissolved into the darkness.

Harry was left alone in the surrounding emptiness and silence. He then felt something incredibly hot within himself; it was filling him and elating him. He could not name it or define it. But it was… pleasant.

He looked around and saw a figure in the distance, surrounded by light. But the light was not external. It seemed as if it was radiating from the very figure it surrounded.

So he was not alone here --

The emitting light of the figure shone on this face from the distance and commanded Harry to move toward it. The heat inside him grew with every step and gradually overwhelmed his body.

When he was just a few meters from his target, the shining figure turned around and the magic within Harry’s body exploded. The Gryffindor believed he was on fire - like he was in the middle of a raging inferno that had engulfed his mind and was melting his body. He felt his trousers suddenly getting tight. Something wet ran down his cheeks.

But he didn’t care.

His eyes were fixed on Severus Snape, who was standing before him in all his proud posture and was looking at Harry with his bottomless, ebony eyes that depicted contempt, scorn, and mockery. Harry looked at Snape’s face with its raw, slight, facial wrinkles, which made it look like the most beautiful face he had ever seen… All around Snape hung an ominous atmosphere full of horror that filled Harry with anxiety and fear, radiating from the proud posture of the Potions Master, at the sight of which the young man’s body was trembling uncontrollably.

Harry noticed the way the black velvet robes were enfolding the tall, slender figure. Suddenly he realized that black was a wonderful color. Why had he not noticed it earlier? He sighed deeply, as though he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life, and his gaze slid down to see every part of it. He moaned, feeling an irresistible need to touch the black material of the professor’s trousers. Snape was emitting an ominous, dark, and aggressive sexuality that seemed to call to him.

Harry thought that, if he didn’t touch him, he would die.

Stumbling on some invisible objects, he began moving towards him, because the only one who could quench this raging fire within him was Snape. Snape, with his full, sneering lips and his gracefully articulate hands. With superhuman effort, he got past the dense darkness that held him back, not allowing him to reach his goal.

He was like a living torch, burning with desire that pushed him forward.

He reached the place at least. He was so close already, just a step away from his goal. Then, suddenly, he stopped, being unable to move on, as if something was in his way. He saw Snape so clearly. That face, wrapped with black velvet hair, those pulled eyebrows between which there was a deep wrinkle created from years of deep thought and constant scorn of others. Those black eyes that now seemed even darker, deeper, and nearly made Harry lose all control of his senses. And that mouth …those lips which tightened into a pale thin line, which made him want to open them with his tongue, and lap at the warmth of Snape’s mouth, taste it, feel it. He imagined the man’s hands on his body, his fingers in his hair, his tongue in his throat, the feeling of a hot, burning erection inside him --

His head began to spin. His hands and knees were shaking so much that he could barely stand. His body was vibrating with convulsions of excitement, feeling waves of heat crashing upon his body, and in his trousers he felt something hot and sticky.

"Severus," he moaned, leaning against an invisible barrier to get closer to the man.

He had trouble speaking. Breathing and standing as well. He would die if he didn’t touch Snape, he would burn alive, and then he would gone. He would explode, disappear, turn to dust in the air and blow away… He would disintegrate into a thousand pieces and would never manage to return to his previous state. However, something was stopping him. Something did not allow him to get close to his deepest desire. Vast despair filled his heart while he was struggling, wanting to reach the black robes, hair, whatever he could manage. Breathless, motionless for a moment, as his eyes sank into the black orbs watching him. They absorbed him, dragged him into a dark tunnel from which there was no way out, no way back. He could only surrender to them and move on to find the light at the end of the tunnel.

"You have the most beautiful and arousing eyes in the world." The words broke out of his mouth, not being able to control them. "I want to drown in them while you take me."

The vision engulfed him through and through, made Harry feel that his heart stopped beating for a moment. As if something claimed it and clutched it tightly. Very tightly. He felt a pain in his chest. The pain of desire.

"Take me, Severus!" The last word turned into a groan, because he could not control the raging fire that consumed him anymore, causing him indescribable suffering.

He gave his last, greatest effort, and thrust his hand out even further, trying to touch the velvet, black hair and end this terrible pain breaking his body and tearing his heart apart bit by bit.

Then he saw that Snape’s lips were moving, speaking incomprehensible words. Then, Harry was blinded by the flash of Snape’s wand and suddenly everything disappeared.

Harry closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he realized that he was almost lying on Snape’s desk, with his hand stretched to the professor, and a full erection in his trousers, tears still wet on cheeks.

In the classroom there was dead silence.

Snape stood before him with eyes wide open, staring at him shocked, as if he saw him for the first time in his life. Harry had never seen such astonishment on the man’s face, which usually only showed only mockery and scorn. It seemed like the Potions Master had seen something so unexpected that he’d been startled.

Then the memories returned to Harry’s mind, hitting him with the force of the Whomping Willow and all the blood drained from his face.

Oh, Merlin, no.

He staggered to his feet, deathly pale. For a few moments he tried to catch his breath, because his lungs refused to work.

In his mind there was total chaos.

What the hell was that? What I've done? What happened? What... what was that?!

He shut his eyes, trying to drive off the striking images and memories. So improbable, so... awful --

How could it be? Me? Snape?! This... this is impossible! No, it never happened! It couldn’t have!

His gut twisted painfully as his mind was torn by a recurring echo of his own words:

Take me... Severus!

He felt like retching.

I couldn't do that! Not... not Snape! That’s impossible! It... must be some kind of sick joke! I can’t believe this! Fuck, I can’t believe it!

He raised his head and looked at the professor who looked just as shocked as Harry. As soon as the green eyes met the black ones, Harry felt his face burning with shame and embarrassment, as if someone had poured boiling oil on him, which immediately began to burn his skin. He felt pain and a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He looked down, collapsing on the floor and feeling like his heart would explode from fear. He just wanted to get away. Hide somewhere where no one would find him. He felt like everything he knew about himself had suddenly crumbled like a house of cards and took with it his honor and pride. It took with it all his courage, leaving him only the fear that stabbed and twisted his mind, gripped his heart and crushing it with its weight, making him able to barely stand on his feet.

He wished that the earth would open under his feet and swallow him. Here and now.

He was humiliated. To no end. He felt like everything inside him was broken, buried, and crushed.

He turned towards the classroom and saw the shocked faces of his classmates. Hermione, eyes wide and shaking her head, had her hand over her mouth, and Ron stared at him with disbelief, as if Harry had suddenly turned into somebody unknown to him. A complete stranger.

He knew that if he did not get out of here immediately, he would throw up in front of everyone.

Staggering and stumbling, he started moving towards the door, like a sleepwalker dreaming. And if someone asked him later, how he managed to get out of there and had not fell down or, even worse, not burst out crying, he would have no answer for them.

Nobody said a word when the door closed behind him with a dull bang.

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* "I must be dreaming" by Evanescence