Severus didn't dream much anymore. Or his mind simply chose to discard whatever lingering remnants of those dreams there were, before he woke. The last sounded most plausible, as he knew he would go mad very quickly, if there were no dreams at all.
Well, more mad than he already was, of course. That degree of madness was surely a matter of discussion for several people who knew him, including himself.
So he had no home of his dreams. He had a
home. He even had two, when you looked at physical property. But a true home? He wondered if he'd ever had one.
And also, if he would ever truly feel at home anywhere.
Spinner's End hadn't been a home, in spite of the familiar and safe feel it had held for so many years.
Hogwarts hadn't been home either, but more a labyrinth of frustrations with nowhere to go other than into his dungeons, behind locked heavy oak doors, where even Dumbledore had hesitated to disturb him.
His childhood home? That thought almost made him laugh.Florence
? Houses of convenience. One for safety, the other for ... sanity. For the chance to see Remus, when he could. A high risk, but also a necessity. But neither were the home of his dreams. And the more he pondered this, the more he doubted that home would ever exist, for him.
So he simply stopped, turning back to reality and the row of vials in front of him. Poisons of the strongest potency. Deadly in doses so small it was impossible to measure out enough the exact amount for just one person.
Was death the home of his dreams?Don't be ridiculous, Severus.
Death was the easy solution, and certainly not what he dreamt of.Home could be Remus.
That was another thought, he couldn't allow himself to linger on for too long.
Dreams were selfish after all.Wordcount: 322