Muffled voices filtered into the living-room and Harry paused to listen. Kingsley, he identified, and Tonks... discussing something heatedly with Arthur Weasley. What if they decided to take Snape away? That would be wonderful, but he doubted it would happen... once again, fate was clearly against him and he would not get off the hook that easily.

A few moments later, Kingsley and Arthur joined them, visibly nervous.

“Harry, is everything alright?” the Auror asked at once.

“As well as possible,” the young man answered with a grimace.

“Despite the unusual circumstances, allow me to wish you a happy birthday,” said Kingsley warmly, without taking his eyes off of Snape. “I can see that your coming of age has been rather eventful.”

“That's an understatement,” Harry sighed. “Do you have any idea what I should do?”

“There is a simple ritual. Once you have made a decision, it won’t take more than a few minutes to complete. Snape will know what to do.”

“I... I understand that I’m going to have to do it, alright? I just need some time. This isn’t really my thing, you know? What exactly does it imply for me anyway?” Harry asked.

“You will be the legal owner of another human being,” Kingsley answered. “Which is rather disturbing in itself. You will be entirely responsible for him; no one will be allowed to interfere with your decisions concerning Snape, not even the Minister.”

He looked at Snape, standing motionless in a dark corner of the room.

“You will have the right of life and death upon him,” he added gravely.

Harry winced.

“But... he still is a human, I mean, a wizard, it’s not like I can kill him without answering to anybody?”

“People will say what they want, but no one will be able stop you or sue you for it. You will own Snape the same way you own Grimmauld Place or any other object. You can hurt him, torture him, break him, it will be your lawful right.”

“That is... disgusting,” Harry said hoarsely.

“If it’s of any comfort, Harry, this is a known practice in the wizarding world... and I doubt you can do worse that his previous owners, regardless,” Kingsley commented.

“Hey, my parents weren't monsters, I'm sure they didn't do anything to Snape! They would have had plenty of reason, though!” the young man said indignantly.

“That’s not what I meant,” the Auror soothed him. “I was actually thinking about the Malfoys. Anyway, keep in mind that you will be entirely responsible for another person. Snape has no rights, no identity outside of the one you give him. He cannot own anything, his status is the one of a magical object. It is a huge responsibility, Harry, I hope you realize that. The downside is that he won't ever go on trial for anything, as you will be fully accountable for his actions from the moment you claim him.”

Harry could feel his heart pounding inside his chest. Yes, he was becoming more and more aware of that fact.

“I don't have a choice,” he said weakly.

“You do have a choice,” Kingsley rectified, “but none of your options are good ones.”

“My mother was desperate to save him no matter the cost. I can't refuse now...”

“That would be rather unfair,” said the Auror softly.

“Will that change anything... for me? Snape has those tattoos...” Harry asked.

“Nothing physical, no,” Shackelbolt said. “But you will be able to feel things, you can summon him to you at any time, and you will have unlimited access to his mind, even if you aren’t a good Legilimens.”

“I haven’t the slightest desire to go anywhere near Snape's mind!” Harry nearly shrieked.

“It isn’t mandatory, simply an option. A slave cannot hide anything from his master, nor can he lie to or hurt them. As a matter of fact, you are safe with Severus. In spite of recent happenings, I can’t say I’m unhappy of this new turn of events... he is a talented wizard who will make an excellent bodyguard,” Kingsley said pensively.

Harry felt sick.

“I'm sorry, but I can't imagine anything I would like less!”

“You’ll get used to it,” Kingsley said. “By the way... I would like to question him in your presence as soon as possible, he might have relevant information about Voldemort. I can assure you he could be very useful. This doesn't need to be a bad thing... I have to go now, Harry. Don't wait too long for the ritual if you’ve already made your decision.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry nodded. “I’ll do it tomorrow, after celebrating my birthday. I don't want him to ruin the entire day.”

“I understand. I'm truly sorry Harry, this can't be easy for you, but I'm sure you’ll make the most of it.”

“I'll try,” the young man grimaced.

“I don't doubt it,” Kingsley smiled. “I have to leave but I will be back shortly with the succession paperwork, there will probably be a few more things to settle. In the meantime, good night. And once again, happy birthday!”

“Thanks,” Harry told him, showing the older wizard to the door. “What with the wedding and all, there’s plenty of stuff to do, but I'm glad I have the Weasleys to help me.”

The door closed behind the two men and Severus Snape was left alone in the living room, still hidden in the shadows.

There he was, the day he had dreaded so much had finally come, and fate had not been kind enough to knock him out of the game before its arrival. Harry Potter... his new master. Unpleasant, of course, but still better than falling into the hands of, say Draco Malfoy, amongst others. At least, that's what he had always thought before tonight. There was a darkness in the brat's words, in his eyes, that he had never noticed before... and that didn't bode well.

Obviously, he brought out the worst in the Potter males and the worst, in the hands of an already traumatized teenager, could quickly become very uncomfortable... he would have to stop this new trend, and do it fast. Make himself useful. Not leave any chance for Potter to become unhappy with him or punish him. At least it didn’t sound like the young man wanted him to die just yet. For Lily.

Lily... his heart wrung at the thought. Dear Lily. The only one who ever cared about him and treated him like a real person, worthy of friendship. And her fury when she had caught Malfoy punishing him, after yet another Hogwarts mishap with the Marauders... she was horrified once she understood the situation.

And Snape had been troubled as well. He’d realized that Lily certainly wouldn't treat him as before, and he wasn't sure he could handle either her disgust or her pity. But he’d underestimated the young witch and her fierce friendship... did any slave in history have such a devoted knight?

He had wondered sometimes if her engagement to James Potter had ulterior motives. After openly despising the pretentious, boasting quidditch player for years, she had conveniently seen a few redeeming qualities in him, and unexpectedly developed a new interest in him.

He would never know, and their marriage, if short, had been a happy one. In spite of James's presence, that period of Snape's life had without a doubt been the happiest... until everything crumbled in one night, all of his hopes, Lily, the nearly comfortable existence he had...

And then, this near-freedom; the feeling should have been intoxicating: living on his own, being free in his movements, actions, having no one to fear! But it was too late for that; at twenty two, Severus Snape was already a broken and worn-out wizard, embittered and soured. Dumbledore probably thought he was giving him another chance at life by offering a job, but he’d hated every second of it, only getting satisfaction in abusing his unfortunate students, and, yes, most especially the Potter spawn. His master-to-be.

The urchin was the spitting image of James... As well as the all-too-alive reason that Lily was dead.

He shook his head, refusing to think about it. To think at all. The door opened again and Potter came back inside stiffly.

“You know what? Kingsley’s right, now that you’re here you might as well make yourself useful. You're on guard tonight. Let us know if you see anything out of place.”

Snape nodded. Without a wand, that could be a rather dangerous mission... but then again, he doubted that the security wards on the house would allow any threat past anyway.

“And don't even think about trying to communicate with your little Death Eater friends!” Harry shouted as he walked out the door.

Really, the brat was annoying, hadn’t both he and Kingsley just told him that he couldn't do anything to betray Potter?

Without bothering to answer, he stepped out in the cold night. This would be his last bit of peace for some time, most likely... he couldn't resist baring his wrists, examining the tattoos that had reappeared that night with a mixture of disgust and fascination. For years they had been nearly invisible, deliciously absent to anyone who wasn’t looking for them.

He started his round in the garden, pushing his thoughts in the back of his mind. The days of freedom were over, and there was no point crying over spilled milk. He needed to think strategically now...

The sun had just risen and the Weasley household was beginning to awaken. Rubbing his eyes blearily, Harry tried to remember the previous day’s events and figure out why there was a knot in his stomach. Then the memories flooded back like an ice cold shower. Snape. A slave. His slave. And for his birthday, no less... groaning, he got up, careful this time not to wake up Ron.

In the kitchen, Mrs Weasley was already at work.

“Happy birthday, Harry dear” she greeted him with a kiss on the forehead. He couldn't help but smile happily.

“Thanks, Mrs Weasley. Can I help you?”

“Absolutely not. Sit down, enjoy your breakfast, it's your birthday! And...” sighing, she wiped her hands on her apron. “I know it didn't start out quite as you hoped it would, but I'm sure that everything will turn out alright. There is no problem without a solution, that's what my mother always said. It's not much, but it is a tradition for every wizard to get a watch on his seventeenth birthday.” She handled him a small package that he took with great care. “This one is not new, it actually belonged to my brother, I’m afraid that he wasn't especially careful with his belongings but...”

She was cut off by two strong arms hugging her with emotion. Getting emotional herself, she patted the boy's back.

“Happy birthday, Harry.”

“Thank you... for everything. And for the watch. It's gorgeous,” Harry said, adjusting it on his wrist. “I’m really sorry for all the trouble I'm caused, Mrs. Weasley, and now with Snape... I think I’m a magnet for trouble.”

“Oh, shush now, stop this nonsense! By the way, where is Severus? I haven't seen him yet this morning.”

“Outside, I would think,” Harry told her. “I told him to guard the house tonight. He might as make himself useful.”

Molly frowned, but nodded.

“You should finish your breakfast and then shower before the girls get there first. Merlin, I swear these two could empty the Hogwarts Lake if it were attached to a shower hose!”

“Just think, if the giant squid could also fit through, then that problem would be solved,” Harry laughed, before running upstairs, his spirits a lot higher than when he had come down. Maybe this day wouldn't be as terrible as he’d anticipated. He did his best not to think about Snape of all morning, caught up with the wedding preparations like everyone else. His long talk with Ron the previous night had effectively eaten up his very limited patience with the Snape Topic, forcing Hermione to harass Ron for information on the subject.

Her next step, of course, had been to approach the Weasley brothers in order to wring any knowledge about the slavery curse, the legal aspects, the history, and so on out of them. When lunch time finally arrived, it was an irate Hermione who set the table, ranting and raving.

“I cannot believe this! Here in Great Britain too! I am ashamed to be a British witch!”

Harry could understand the sentiment, he had himself been shocked to learn about this aspect of their society. For the young woman who’d fought fiercely for house elves’ rights, this had to be unbearable.

“Harry, where is he? Professor Snape?”

“Er, in the garden, I think. He was supposed to keep guard,” the boy answered. In his effort to forget about Snape, he had also forgotten to relieve him from guard duty... well, he’d  probably slept under a tree for half of the night anyway.

“Call him in for lunch,” Hermione told him, setting off a chorus of groans.

“Hermione, slave or not, no one want to see his ugly face here, people would like to eat without having their appetite spoiled,” Ron protested.

“Very well,” the young witch said, her lips pursed. “I will bring him a plate. And you may as well get used to it, Ron, because there is obviously no way to cancel this spell. He will have to stay with Harry no matter what.” Her meaningful glance didn't escape Mrs. Weasley's notice, and Harry and Ron did their best to look innocent. If Molly found out about their project... no doubt she would do all in her power to keep them in the Burrow. And Molly's powers were rather intimidating.

Pulling out a spare plate, Hermione marched into the garden, only to return a few minutes later, defeated.

“Harry, you will have to go, he won't eat without your permission,” she said.

“What? What is that supposed to mean? It's ridiculous, he’s doing it just to annoy us. He probably didn't want to accept food from a mudblood,” he grumbled.

“Harry!” both Hermione and the Weasley parents admonished.

“Sorry, sorry,” he muttered, standing up. “It's how he talks... oh fine, I'll be back.”

Defeated, he took the plate Hermione handed him and stalked into the garden. It didn’t take long to spot Snape, walking along the fence, arms crossed on his chest.

“Hey, you! What's your problem?” he called. Snape turned his unreadable face towards him.

“What problem are we talking about in particular, Mr. Potter?” he said in a voice that barely concealed the underlying irony.

“You don't want to eat the food Hermione brings you, do you? Still as snobbish as ever? If it's not good enough for you, you’re free to go without!” Harry shouted, the sight and voice of the hated man pushing him to anger.

“Miss Granger's meal was perfectly acceptable. I merely did not know whether I had permission to eat.”

“That’s stupid,” snapped Harry, shoving the plate in his hands. At second glance, Snape didn't look so fresh and fit this morning... maybe he had kept guard all night, after all, he seemed paler than usual, the dark circle under his eyes even more visible. It seemed to Harry that the hand holding the plate was even trembling slightly. “You don't need my permission to eat. Just eat, and stop make a big deal of everything.”

Not waiting for an answer, he turned his back and walked toward the house, feeling an odd hint of guilt inside his stomach. There was something strange about Snape, something wrong that he couldn't quite put his finger on... never mind. His Majesty was fed, and now he could finally finish his own meal in peace.

Hermione's slip had only strengthened Mrs. Weasley’s attempts keep them apart from each other, but this time, Harry was secretly grateful. He didn't want to hear about Snape, didn't want to talk or think about him any more than absolutely necessary. He would almost have enjoyed his birthday if it hadn't been for the new Minister’s coming to deliver Dumbledore's legacy to them. Another inheritance. Harry had ground his teeth... Scrimgeour said nothing about Snape, he doubted the man even knew about it. Most likely, Kingsley had kept his other inheritance a secret.

And now, this bloody snitch was driving him crazy, as were Ron and Hermione’s gifts driving them. The thing had to have something to do with the horcruxes, or Snape, something to help him understand or put him on the right trail, but what? How was the damn thing supposed to open? As for Ron's lighter and Hermione's book... well, he hoped they would be luckier than him.

Night had fallen when Hermione realized that Snape, once again, hadn't eaten and was still standing guard in the garden. Even if Harry found the idea of making him guard the house rather fitting, he supposed that two nights in a row would be a bit much... although he had never seemed exhausted when he was trying to catch Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the corridors after curfew!

Sighing, he put together a generous plate of leftovers and went into the garden, seeking the dark silhouette. But Snape was nowhere to be seen... Harry felt his heart beat faster. What if he had run away? What if it had all been a trap?

“Snape?” he shouted, “Snape? Are you there?”

“Here,” a hoarse voice came from underneath the big oak tree. Harry progressed cautiously, and found the man sitting on the ground, leaning against the tree. If Snape had looked tired this morning, this evening he looked downright awful. His face was strained and covered in sweat, his breathing laboured.

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry demanded, grimacing.

“The geas,” the wizard answered with some difficulty, “it is assuming that you have decided not to accept my servitude and it is reacting accordingly.”

“Merlin,” Harry hissed, “I didn't decide anything! I mean... yes, alright, I’ll do it; what do I have to do?”

“The ritual,” Snape breathed.

“Yes, okay, but how?”

Slowly, with jerky movements, the man knelt in front of him, head bent. Then, without warning, he grabbed Harry's wand hand and guided the wand’s tip to his neck.

“Repeat... Servitus Capio,” said Snape.

Trembling slightly, Harry gulped.

“Servitus Capio,” he stammered. Whether he’d said it properly or not, the curse seemed to understand, as the next moment a ray of brilliant blood red light shot out of his wand, wrapping around the throat of the potions master. Startled, he jerked back his hand and Snape made no attempt to stop him. The band of light became brighter, the long string darting from the wand like a fiery whip before disappearing with a hiss.

Mechanically, Snape raised his hands toward his new master, fists clenched, wrists exposed. Harry couldn't help but jump when he saw blood flowing, covering the tattoos. What had that bloody spell just done? It was supposed to save Snape, dammit, not make him bleed to death! It looked as if the patterns on the man's wrist had been meticulously cut with the razor edge of a knife... instinctively, Harry cover the wound with his palms in an attempt to stop the blood flow.

“Servus meus es,” Snape murmured. “Repeat.”

“Servus meus es,” Harry said in a trembling voice.

He could feel at once that the wounds had stopped bleeding, and the red light that had gone off a few seconds before suddenly reappeared, wrapping both of them this time. It only lasted a moment, before sinking down until it literally stuck to the skin of both wizards.

Then it vanished, apparently melting in them, leaving Harry one the ground, stunned.

He had done it. Snape was his. And if the expression on the other man's face was anything to judge by, he didn't like the idea any more than Harry did. Realizing he was still gripping Snape’s wrists, he quickly let go as he stood up.

“There, I did it,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I saved your life. Don't ever say I never did anything for you.”

But Snape didn't even bother to raise his head. He just knelt there, trying to catch his breath and Harry felt a pang of pity for him. Just a for a second, before he remembered who the man was.

“There’s your dinner,” he said, pointing to the place where he’d left the plate. “Tomorrow’s Bill and Fleur's wedding. Just stay out of everybody’s way, in fact, stay out of sight. Go in the shed, transform whatever you like into a bed and don’t leave until the wedding is over. And eat whatever we bring you, no matter who does it. If you need something, you can come and get me, but I'd rather not ruin the party with a Death Eater’s presence, so try to be discrete. Understood?”

Snape nodded but still didn’t move to stand up. Feeling suddenly awkward, Harry shifted on his feet.

“You're gonna be alright?”

“Yes Master,” the slave answered in a tonelessly.

It was enough to make Harry wince and he turned back to the house hurriedly.

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Not wasting another second, he rushed into the comforting light of the Burrow, leaving his new slave behind him.

Just past the door he was assailed by the entire Weasley clan plus Hermione.

“You did the right choice, Harry, I'm proud of you,” Mr. Weasley told him, patting his shoulder warmly.

“Yes, it was the right thing to do, even though it's still horrible,” Hermione approved.

“Sit down, Harry, you're pale,” said Mrs. Weasley, pushing him to an armchair.

Pale? He could be.

“Did you see?” he asked feebly.

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said. “That was rather impressive, even from here. You, er, want something to drink?”

“No, it's ok. Actually, I think I just want to sleep. I'm a bit... overwhelmed.”

“In that case I will bring a butterbeer to Professor Snape... if you don't mind,” Hermione added.

“Whatever,” said Harry moodily. “I just don't want to hear about him.”

“Harry, I know you are still in shock from Albus' death,” Molly said, understanding. “But I doubt that the situation is easy for Severus either. Did you ask him about his recent activities? I would bet that Albus' death wasn't his choice. He couldn't have killed his... well, his guardian.”

“I was there, I saw him,” Harry said. “I know what he did, and Dumbledore begged him not to kill him, and that back-stabber murdered him in cold blood. I don’t need to know anything more, about his reasons...”

“Harry, son, don't be irrational,” Arthur Weasley protested. “Life is not black and white. Ask Severus, I'm sure you will learn a lot. Maybe even some things you will be glad you know.”

“Later,” the young man said, looking away. “Right now, I just want to sleep. That spell drained me...”

“A good night’s sleep will be more than welcome to help you settle down, then,” Arthur nodded.

“Harry,” Hermione said as she came into the living room, “Snape told me you ordered him to sleep in the shed, is that true?”

“Yes it is,” said the young man wearily. “The house is full anyway, and I don't want the guests to see him tomorrow... Merlin, he couldn't have chosen a worse time to show up. It's alright, Hermione, he’ll be fine in there, and stop looking at me as if I just gutted a baby unicorn, will you? It's Snape, for Merlin’s sake!”

“I'm with you,” Ron backed him. “After all these years tyrannizing us in the dungeons, he had it coming. And anyway, as you said, the house is full.”

“Revenge is never a good solution,” Arthur Weasley told them sternly.

“And yet that's what he did,” Harry retorted; “He told me. He took his revenge on his former master and on me too in advance. That was petty, unfair and cruel. All I’ve done so far is saving his life!”

M. Weasley nodded. The boy, or rather the young man was exhausted and had still not recovered from Dumbledore's death. He couldn't hold his attitude against him, knowing Harry's history and what Albus' protection had meant for him in the past. It would be better to let him rest for now. Tomorrow would be another day.

In the pocket of his robes, the husband and father's fingers toyed with a dark wooded wand that he’d picked up under the oak, in the back of the garden. The wand which Snape had surrendered to Harry in, and which the boy had neglected to pick up and then forgotten about.

With a sigh, he sent the teenagers back to their rooms.

Yes, tomorrow would be another day. Tonight, he intended to pay a visit to the wizard who was most likely not asleep, there in the shed...