The Burrow, July 31, 1997

Harry tossed in his bed, unable to find sleep. A quick glance at the old plastic watch on his wrist told him that midnight was only a few minutes away. Soon he would be seventeen, legally of age in the wizarding world.

It was a good thing, in retrospect, that Ron's snores and the summer heat had effectively prevented him from falling asleep. He had a tradition to honour. Carefully, he attempted to slip out of his bed without waking his friend...but his efforts were cut short the moment his foot touched the ancient floor and it creaked loudly beneath his weight.


Ron's snoring stopped at once and he turned his sleepy gaze towards Harry.
"You're leaving?"

"Just getting some fresh air," Harry reassured him. "Go back to sleep."

"OK," his friend mumbled. "Don't be too long. Long day tomorrow. Your birthday, the wedding, all that stuff..."

Ron was asleep before he could finish his sentence, and Harry couldn't help but smile as he slipped into the corridor. The Weasley brothers all had one thing in common; they could sleep anywhere, anyhow, and at any time.

He managed to exit the house without being noticed and stepped into the moonlit garden with a sigh of relief. Everything was already in place for Bill and Fleur's wedding in two days. The house was in constant turmoil these days, nearly making him forget about what he had to do after the wedding. Leave to hunt horcruxes along with his two best friends, just as Dumbledore had said.

He wasn't quite convinced that this was a sound plan, but both Hermione and Ron had acted confident in him as well as themselves...although they had no idea what was in store for them. Dumbledore hadn’t had time to tell him much...  

The cool wind was soothing, and walking on the grass was much more relaxing that he would have thought. He walked quietly to the border of the wards at the edge of the garden, and leaned against the high oak marking the end of the property. Somewhere, he thought he heard an owl hoot. Hedwig? Probably not.

Just ten seconds till midnight... 9... 8 … 7… 6… 5… 4…3… 2… 1…CRACK !

Before he could even murmur the traditional “Happy Birthday” to himself, Harry leaped back, fingers automatically wrapping around his wand. He knew that sound all too well; someone had just apparated, here, at the Burrow, in the middle of the night!

Trembling slightly, he aimed for the barely distinguishable silhouette a few meters away.

Whoever it was, they were obviously not used to apparating, he thought, as the mystery man immediately fell to his knees with a groan. He didn’t seem about to stand up again anytime soon.
Fully prepared to fight, Harry took a step forward. It was a man, judging by the voice, entirely dressed in black, slender... the bent head didn't allow him to see the face, but the long, greasy hair, the thin frame and the clothes were familiar enough...he jumped back with a furious cry: Snape!

At the Burrow, the lights had lit up and Harry could hear Mr. Weasley and his sons shouting, no doubt searching for him. But he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment; his mind was fully absorbed by hatred for the man kneeling in front of him.
"You! Filthy traitor! How dare you?" he hissed, "How did you get in there? He sent you, didn't he? Voldemort? You think I am going to make things easy for you? You have no idea..."
"Harry! Harry, move away!"

Arthur Weasley's voice snapped him out of his trance. Behind him, the Weasley troop, wands at the ready, were rushing help. Harry didn't move and kept his own wand pointed at the intruder. If Snape’s body language, bent and immobile, was any indication, the man was hurt anyway.

"Who's there?" Mr. Weasley asked loudly as he caught up with Harry. A lumos, aimed at the face of the professor, provided a quick answer. "You!"

Around them, the Weasley brothers had gathered in a menacing circle, wands aimed at the unmoving man in black.

"How did you get in there?" demanded Arthur, furious. "The wards are set to allow only Order members inside, and I doubt very much you can count yourself as such, traitor!"

Around them less flattering comments were flying toward the professor.

Finally the man raised his head, slowly, as if doing so took every bit of willpower he possessed. Ignoring Arthur and his sons, he locked his black eyes onto Harry's.

"Master, I come today to present myself as your faithful servant. Your rights on me are absolute; I belong to you in body and mind, and beg you to accept my servitude," he articulated in a slow, emotionless voice, his face impassive under the moonlight.

Stunned, Harry grimaced and took a step back.

"What...what is he talking about?" he asked with disgust, turning to Mr. Weasley.

Even under the dim light of the stars, he could see the man had turned deathly white.

"Merlin..." For a moment, Arthur was speechless, staring at the man kneeling in the grass. "He is... you are...that’s impossible!"

Without a word, Snape rolled up his sleeves and presented his bare wrists to Harry. Uncovered, but not totally unadorned, the boy noticed. Two identical tattoos were circling the thin wrists in a strange, blood red pattern that seemed to almost glow on the white skin.

"Merlin," Mr. Weasley murmured again. "This is horrible...Harry you must... Merlin I didn't know that..."

Obviously unable to find the right words, the wizard lowered his wand and groaned. Around them, several Weasley brothers let out a murmur of protest in response to this sudden show of trust.

That was the moment Molly Weasley chose to rush to the rescue, wand in hand.
"Arthur, what is going on? I called the Order, they are on their way!"

"Molly, go back in the house," Arthur said in a firm voice that Harry had never heard him use before. It didn't prevent the plump witch from approaching the silhouette kneeling in her garden.

"Who...Severus Snape!" she hissed, not even trying to hold back her fury. "How dare you..."

"Molly, enough, it's complicated," Arthur cut her off, taking her by the shoulders. "Severus had to come, he didn't have a choice."

"I don't understand," said Harry. Snape's silent stillness was every bit as nerve-wracking as the odd behaviour of Ron’s father. "What did he mean? Why is he even here? Shouldn't we tie him up or something?  We should at least take his wand!"

Mr. Weasley opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Snape had removed his wand from inside his robes and laid it on the grass, at the feet of a stunned Harry.

The pale moonlight played on the strange pattern tattooed across Snape’s wrists and Harry heard Mrs. Weasley gasp before stepping closer to her husband.
"Arthur...!"

"This is the 31st of July, Molly. Harry is seventeen." Then, turning to face Harry: "Happy birthday, my boy."

By the tone, Harry could sense that this birthday was off to a less than stellar start. Glancing at the circle of Weasley brothers, he noticed that Bill and Chalie had both lowered their wands and were now pensively watching Snape. Fred, George, and Ron, on the other hand, were still aiming their wands at their former potions professor, all the while observing their parents, trying to ascertain exactly what was going on.

"He needs to know, dad," Bill finally said. "Tell him."

Arthur Weasley shifted on his feet, obviously trying to find the right words before turning to Harry.

"Harry, you realize you are now of age in the wizarding world, don't you? You’ve been seventeen for several minutes now," he started awkwardly.
Harry nodded, intrigued. Where was this going?

"Well, this is a very unexpected turn of events, one that goes along with your new adult status..." He paused, taking a deep breath.
It was a low and cold voice that took over his speech, startling the entire audience. Snape, apparently, had decided to take the matters into his own hands.
"You, Mr. Potter, have just come into possession of a part of your inheritance," he explained, staring intensely at the boy. "That is, if you accept it."

"I don't get it," Harry struggled to understand.

"It’s quite simple," Snape started again, although without any trace of his previous professorial impatience. "I belonged to your parents. After their death, as an underage wizard cannot own a slave, the authority on my person was transferred to Albus Dumbledore, as stipulated in your parents' will. As you are now of age, you can now claim me."

His speech was met with four gasps of surprise.

"You are... you are..." Harry stuttered, unable to pronounce the word.

"A slave," Snape helped him out. "At your service."

If there was a hint of irony in his words, it was drowned by the resignation plainly showing on the wizard's face.

"No!" Harry suddenly shouted. "No, no way! I won't do it!"

Snape’s face tensed slightly, but it was Arthur and Molly Weasley who flew to his side.

"Harry, no, you can't make this decision just like that! Think about it!" cried Mr. Weasley, who looked rather panicked.

"You are kidding me, after what he did to Dumbledore?" Harry shouted back, before an idea hit him. "Oh. If I take him, then Voldemort can't use him anymore, right?"

"Yes, that is true, but it isn’t the point," Arthur tried to explain. He was sweating in spite of the cool wind.


"Well, I think it is," Harry snapped, annoyed, before turning to Snape. "What more? What will you do, if I refuse? Go back to him, become headmaster of Hogwarts, and torture students?" he spat.

But Severus Snape remained impassive as he answered.
"If you refuse my servitude, M. Potter, I won't go anywhere. I will die."

Harry felt as though time had stopped. It was Mr. Weasley's hand on his shoulder that made him snap out of it, after what seemed like an eternity.

"Harry, we should go back into the house," the wizard said softly.

"But... what... what about... him?" he asked, pointing at Snape.

"Severus will come along, of course."

"Do I have to make a decision right now? What do I have to do, just speak the right words? Can I ask for someone else's opinion, like, I don't know, maybe Kingsley or someone?"

"No, you don't have to make a decision just yet," Arthur gently reassured him. "Although you can't put it off forever..." he paused. “Also, I believe there’s a ritual involved, isn’t there?"

The question was addressed to Snape who nodded.

"Well, let's go home everyone," he announced. However, Ron apparently didn't agree.

"Are you mad? There is no way this slimeball is gonna walk through our door after what he did to Dumbledore and George!" he growled. "How do we know he’s making this up to kidnap Harry?"

"Ron, not now," scolded Molly gently.

"The tattoos are undeniable proof," added Bill.

"Oi," said George, "Not that I'm complaining, it's too late to sleep soundly anyway, but am I the only one who thinks this situation is a tad surreal?"

"And for Merlin's sake, since when has slavery been re-established in Great Britain? I mean, apart from mum making us slave in the garden," Fred added.

"It’s hardly amusing," Molly sternly lectured the pair. "Generally, it isn’t something we care to talk about, and it’s become very rare..." she took a deep breath. “Come on. We'll discuss this inside."

Harry took a step toward the house, and Snape climbed to his feet.

"No funny business, get it?" the young man hissed. "Don't even think about attacking anyone, or… I dunno, just don’t.”

The wizard nodded quietly, face still inscrutable. Without another word, they walked to the small cottage. It became harder to ignore the oppressive silence in the living room, though. The twins and Ron settled on armchairs, eyeing the potions master walking two steps behind their friend with interest. Bill and Charlie, on the other hand, stationed themselves in the background while the Weasley parents tried find a way to deal with the situation at hand.

"I'll make some tea," Molly finally announced before escaping to the kitchen. Judging by his envious expression, her husband desperately wished he could follow her.

"Well, well... this is a very delicate situation that hasn’t arrived at the most convenient of times," Arthur started with a hoarse voice. "I..."

He was interrupted by shouts coming from the stairs, as Hermione and Ginny burst into the living room.

"You got him!" Ginny exulted gleefully, "Oh Dad, congratulations! Have you alerted the Order yet?"

"Merlin, can everyone just go back to bed?! For heaven's sake... yes the Order is on its way. Fred, George, Ron, girls, go back to your rooms this instant, I don't want to see you down here until tomorrow morning, is that clear?"

Despite Mr. Weasley's lack of experience at giving orders, the kids nodded half-heartedly, recognizing that this was not the time to object... Besides, Harry suspected, the extendable ears were about to make a reappearance.

A few minutes later, the living room was cleared, leaving the two oldest Weasley brothers, their parents, Harry and his new inheritance, who stood several steps away from him, stiff and indifferent.

"Bill, Charlie, the Order is bound to arrive soon,” Molly told them. "Go and wait outside, will you? Tell them what happened."

The two brothers left without objection, though not without delivering a friendly pat on the shoulder of the young man who was nervously waiting for the next step.

With a sigh and a grimace that clearly expressed his feelings about the potions master, Arthur Weasley turned to Snape.

"Maybe you should explain everything from the start," he suggested.

"I'm sorry," Snape answered in a toneless voice, "but some of that information is confidential and for my master's ears only."

Arthur winced but didn't argue.

"Alright, I think we can trust you to not harm Harry. At any rate, we will be just a few meters away and the wards are already set to protect our young guest. It would be useless for you to try anything."

"Even if I wished it, I am physically unable to harm him," Snape answered.

"Yes, then, very well," Mr. Weasley mumbled. "In that case... Harry, we will be in the next room if you need anything. Anything at all, alright?" he shot a sideway glance in the professor’s direction.

"Mr Weasley, I don't understand," Harry pleaded.

"Ah well, you need to find out where this.... inheritance comes from. It is important for the decision you will have to make. The professor cannot hurt you in any way, as he just said."

"I... umm… okay," the boy finally answered, throat dry.

"See you soon, my dear," Molly assured, hugging him briefly.

A few seconds later, the door swung shut and Harry found himself part of what felt like the most awkward tête à tête ever.

"I must be dreaming," he stated. "Any moment I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal. You can’t really be here. Maybe Fred and George’s latest product produces hallucinations..."

"There is nothing wrong with you, Mr. Potter," Snape murmured calmly.

The mere sound of that hated voice sent a fresh wave of fury through the young man.

"Well, whatever you think you are, whatever you might claim... I'd better warn you now, I am never going to forgive you," he growled in a low voice, "Dumbledore gave you a second chance and you killed him. Murdered him. When everyone needed him so much... you are no less than a monster."

"Probably,” Snape calmly agreed.

For a few moments, Harry was silent, unable to talk, his head in his hands. Finally steeling his resolve, he took a deep breath.

"Since when?"

"Since when what, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked. Without sarcasm, Harry noticed. A simple question, nothing more. This was new...

"Since when are you... this. A slave."

"Since I was born," the wizard answered.

"I suppose it makes sense," Harry murmured. "And you... your parents?"

"Slaves too, yes, though I don't know who they were. You can find their references on my papers."

"Papers? What papers?"

"The ownership certificate. If, of course, you choose to accept it," Snape specified.

"I don't see why I should," Harry snarled. "If you knew how many times I wished you dead... it would only be justice after what you did!"

"That is your right," the professor answered simply. No, not the professor, the slave, Harry mentally corrected. And his voice was still toneless, calm, as if he didn't care at all, as if he was talking about what he’d eaten for breakfast...

"You don't regret anything, do you?" the boy hissed.

"No," Snape answered.

"You are such a..." Harry rose on his feet and came one step from the man, searching his face. But there was nothing, nothing but a blank mask, the same one he wore to Death Eaters meetings no doubt. "Go on then," he said, "come on, explain yourself. And you’d better make it good if you want me to help you stay alive."

"What do you wish to know?" the wizard asked without a trace of emotion.

"I don’t know. Anything. Where were you born, for example, in the Potter family?"

"No, I was born in the Malfoy family's service," Snape said.

Harry couldn't help but wince.

"Malfoy? You belonged to the Malfoys?"

"For all of my childhood and part of my teens, yes."

"That explains why you get on so well with Lucius, then," Harry said pensively. "And why you are a Death Eater."

"I didn't have a choice in the matter," Snape replied.

"Lucius made you? Well, it clearly hasn’t bothered you too much," the young man snarled.

"The idea belonged to both Lucius Malfoy and James Potter. Bothering me was the least of their concerns."

"You liar!" Harry shouted. "Don't you dare bring my father into this, you filthy traitor!"

"I do apologize, Mr. Potter, but in any event, I cannot lie to you. That is an effect of my geas," Snape quietly replied.

"Oh really? And who do you think will actually buy that?"

"I can lie, but not to my master. Even though you haven't made a decision yet, the geas still technically considers you as such."

"Alright, alright," Harry grit out from between his teeth. "How was my father involved then?"

"At that time, it was agreed that James Potter would to buy me, at his fiancé’s request. He knew that Lucius and his father intended for me to take the Mark, but he decided, along with Dumbledore, not to stop them," Snape explained.

"I really don't see why they would do that," Harry said, shaken.

"For several reasons. By Marking me, the Malfoys believed that I would remain linked to the Dark Lord in spite of the slave bond. As his powers grew, they hoped it would become more powerful than the geas binding me to my master and that I would be forced to answer to the Mark first. James Potter and Albus Dumbledore, on the other hand, believed the power of the geas unbreakable. That meant that the Mark would allow me to maintain the Dark Lord's trust while spying for them.

"That’s... sick," Harry commented, feeling nauseous. Using a slave to spy by letting him being branded? That was insane... but then again, it was Snape they were talking about. And Snape was hardly an innocent little lamb. "That sure didn't stop you from reporting the prophecy to Voldemort, did it?"

The man shook his head.

"That happened during my fifth year at Hogwarts. I still belonged to the Malfoy family and my main purpose for remaining at the school was to spy. I reported what I heard, not knowing I was sealing my future masters' fate."

Harry ground his teeth.

"Yet you knew someone would be killed. An innocent baby, even."

"Yes," Snape said without making any excuses.

Harry pondered what he had just learned for a moment.

"What about my father? He bought you? Why would he need someone as pathetic as you?"

"During my fifth year at Hogwarts, Lily Evans learned of my status when she encountered Lucius and I unexpectedly one day. She was horrified. We had been friends since we came to Hogwarts; we both excelled at potions and charms. We often studied together. Lily took the news hard, first trying to research a way to free me, and then eventually realizing that it was hopeless. She then tried to get me away from the Malfoys, as she disapproved of their both their influence on and their treatment of me.

“They wouldn't have it, of course, until she got engaged to James Potter, who had sufficient means to rival the Malfoys. Although our relations were still... strained, he loved Lily more than anything. He started to negotiate with Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius's father, who at first declined to sell as I was too useful to the Dark Lord at the time to be sold to a family from the other side. But James Potter upped his offer, and Abraxas decided upon the Dark Mark strategy, allowing the sale to go forward. I entered the Potter's service the day of their wedding, as a gift from James to his wife."

That time, Harry was thoroughly stunned. A slave as a wedding present... he understood James’ intentions, and grasped Lily's even better, but the whole idea sounded distinctly creepy.

"Are... are there a lot of slaves in the wizarding world?" he asked. "I’ve never heard of them before."

"Not anymore," Snape answered. "During the two last wars against Grindelwald and the Dark Lord, the vast majority were killed in battle. Which makes the remaining ones more valuable.”

Harry shook his head. He’d always imagined that wizarding world was a lot more civilized than the muggle one... but now he wasn't so sure.

"But then you let my parents die," he mused. "So what, Lucius was right, the Mark was stronger?"

"No, of course not. I wasn’t present that night; it was Halloween and Dumbledore had requested for my presence in the castle in order to reinforce the security. He was afraid there would be an attack that night."

Once more, Harry felt nauseous. Dumbledore and his mistakes... Dumbledore, the man who’d trusted Snape one time too many.

"Where’s the proof that you didn't betray them?" he asked hoarsely, although he knew perfectly well that Peter had been the traitor that night.

“The geas wouldn’t have let me. Whatever I think of my master, my loyalty to them remains incorruptible. In comparison, the house elves are free creatures... I cannot lie, disobey, or do anything harmful to my master, nor can I attempt escape or, of course, betray them.

"Or else what?" Harry ventured.

"That depends," the wizard quietly replied. "If I tried to commit a major offence, I simply wouldn’t be able to do it. For example, if I tried to run away, I would be killed instantly. If I was to disobey an order, it would lead to intense suffering. For disrespect or other minor transgressions, the punishment is the master's responsibility."

"I see," the boy said, trying desperately not to visualize these effects. These were things he didn't want to know anything about... although they still didn't explain everything. "Still, you have been a right bastard to me ever since I set a foot in Hogwarts! You’ve been the most utterly vicious and completely unfair teacher I’ve ever met! And as far as I know, the geas certainly didn’t stop that!"

"As long as you were underage, and without the required ritual, the geas remained dormant, and thus unreactive. I ensured that you remained alive all these years, but I didn't have any other obligations toward you. The authority on me had been transferred to Albus Dumbledore, to a limited extent."

"So, basically, you were free," Harry summed up.

"Free to act, but not technically my own person. I still belonged to you on paper. It was only a matter of time."

"I don't understand," the boy articulated, lost in his thought. "You knew that someday I would become your master, that I would have complete power over you, and even though you knew, you still did everything you possibly could to ensure I hate you. I loathe you, actually. So what was it, revenge? Are you so cruel that you couldn’t resist making me miserable while you could?”

"There is some truth to that," Snape admitted. "For the first time of my life I found myself in a position of authority over my master. It was a dangerous game, but an easy outlet. It also allowed me to reinforce Lucius' conviction that the geas had been weakened by the Mark, giving me the opportunity to return to the Death Eaters and resume spying. Yes, I must admit that I enjoyed myself... and then I never believed that I would actually live long enough to see you come of age anyway," he concluded.

This time, Harry was sure he heard some bitterness in his former professor’s voice.

A mixture of disgust, rage, and weariness flooded through him. He placed his cup of tea on the table and stood up.

"I will do it," he slowly announced. "The ritual, or whatever. I won't let you die. But you see, it turns out that we do have something in common after all."

He stopped a few centimetres away from the professor's face, even though the man was over a head taller than him. Then, without looking away, he smiled; an icy smile, completely devoid of humour, which would have sent a cold shiver down the Weasleys’ backs.

"A taste for revenge."

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...

Once he was certain that the entire household was safely slumbering, Arthur Weasley walked out into the night and to the shed in the back on the garden where, he assumed, Snape was still awake.

 

It didn't take him long to spot the dark silhouette, wrapped in his cloak and leaning against an old bag of sand. With a sigh, Arthur cast a Lumos to light the small room.

 

The black-clad wizard who’d terrorized Hogwarts students, his own children included, for more than a decade didn't make the slightest effort to stand up, merely blinking to get accustomed to the light.

 

Feeling awkward, Mr Weasley stepped towards him.

 

"I'm sorry," he finally murmured, shifting his feet uncomfortably. "The house is really full tonight with wedding guests. But that's no excuse not to make this place more comfortable." With a quick wave, he transformed a wheelbarrow into a bed and a barrel into an armchair. "It's not fancy," he apologized, "but it's only for tonight. Tomorrow we’ll find you a room in the house."

 

"I doubt Mr Potter would approve of your plans," the wizard answered flatly, still without bothering to move.

 

"Harry is still overwhelmed," Arthur explained, deciding to sit down as well. He transfigured a bucket into a stool and sat down next to the former teacher. "This whole situation has been very hard on him, and it was completely unexpected. Give him some time to get used to the idea."

 

"I don't need to give him anything," Snape said calmly. "Mr Potter will do as he wishes."

 

"You will protect him, right?" Arthur asked nervously. "He needs an adult, a protector. I know they are up to something, him and his friends..."

 

"I cannot leave my master and I am bound to protect him. Does that answer your question?"

 

"Not really," Mr Weasley sighed, "but I guess you are right, my question was stupid. Anyway, you will need this."

 

Searching his pockets, he found the black wand and handed it to Snape. He saw a flash of greed flash through the other wizard's eyes, but he didn't move to take it.

 

"It belongs to my master. He obviously doesn't want me to be armed, I can't accept it," he said tonelessly, turning his eyes away.

 

"Harry simply didn't think," the other man protested. "I thought you might not accept this... I know I should tell Harry, but... he needs to understand. I want him to figure it out for himself. It's unfair, but I promise, you are safe here, and we will ensure that you have all you need."

 

Snape nodded.

 

"Tomorrow’s the big day, the wedding of my son and... well, you know, Miss Delacour. You’ve met her, I believe. Considering the situation, it would probably be best if no one sees you. We’ll have more time, when the wedding is over, to think things through. But there is something I would like to know. That I need to know. I saw Dumbledore just before his death, and I thought he looked weakened, sick..."

 

He leaned slightly towards the man in black.

 

"He was dying, wasn't he? And he knew?"

 

For a moment, the dark eyes only studied him intensely, then Snape nodded sharply. Again, Arthur sighed.

 

"Have you told Harry?"

 

"Mr Potter didn't want to hear about it."

 

"I understand. Molly tried to explain that you couldn't have murdered... well, your master, but he was too angry."

 

Groaning, Arthur Weasley stood up.

 

"Give him time, Severus. He is a good young man. He will understand."

 

"I’ve already told you, I don't have any choice," the professor snapped irritably. "Mr Potter officially accepted his role as my master today and that is more than I was expecting. I don't entertain any of your delusions about your idol or about what this sudden access to power will do to him. Give him a month, and you can add another crime to my file: corrupting Saint Potter."

 

"You don't intend to..." Arthur started.

 

"I only intend to survive your hero and his good deeds. Mark my words. Mark them well, and remember it someday when you realize that your lamb has transformed into a wolf. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

 

With these words, the slave leaned back on the sand bag and drew his cloak more tightly around himself, pointedly ignoring the bed and armchair.

 

Shaken, Mr Weasley made several steps toward the door before turning back.

 

"You’ve got to protect him, Severus. Even if it’s from himself. He is our only hope.”

 

Then, without waiting for an answer, he closed the door behind him.

 

From his sandbag, Snape let out an exasperated sigh. To protect his masters from themselves... that was the one thing he didn't have to do, and the one he had never managed. If he could have convinced Lily not to fight Voldemort, not to trust Pettigrew... but Lily was brave and confident. She hadn't listened.

 

And today he was at the mercy of her son, that carbon copy of James Potter that walked the line between the Marauder and sweet Lily, and teetering toward the former... Severus Snape wasn't sure that he wanted to know the outcome of that balancing act.

 

In spite of his exhaustion, he woke up at dawn the next day. This habit, formed when he was a young child, was very hard to break. Today, however, he wasn't the only one... outside, he could hear the voices of the Weasleys and their guests, busy setting up everything for the wedding. A wedding in the middle of a war... did people have any common sense at all?

Snape groaned as he straightened on his sand bag. He certainly wasn’t as young as he had once been, and he probably could have done without the childish show of pride by ignoring the bed Arthur had transfigured for him. But, you had to take what you could while it was available… or as the case may be, not take it.

At least he was allowed to remain far away from the stares and occasional curses of the wizards gathered there. He harboured no illusions about the feelings he inspired in other people, especially after long - far too long - years as a teacher. Teacher, spy, Death Eater... why couldn't he have specialized in gardening? 

But no, apparently his intelligence and natural talent with potions had opened up the path for him to become a valuable slave. Valuable... that could have been a good thing if he hadn't belonged to the Malfoys to start with. Life in a potions lab might have been rather enjoyable without the additional stress of being a spy.

He shook his head; it hardly mattered now. He needed only care about the brat whose voice he could hear outside, coming dangerously close.

The door suddenly opened on the teenager, wearing a disgusted look on his face.

"Your meal," he said, putting the tray on the ground. "Keep quiet, OK? There are people outside."

He then walked out, without looking back. Snape sighed with relief and relaxed; if Potter had decided to ignore him, that was perfectly fine with him. Spending the day simply resting was too. And Molly Weasley's cooking was true to its fame... 

In the windowless shed, Severus relied on sound to make out what was going on outside. The wedding preparations continued, and Molly Weasley was becoming increasingly nervous with every passing hour. He realized that the bride and groom had arrived when a cheerful crowd gathered in the garden to greet the young couple.

Still, he could decipher a hint of nervousness in their voices.

As time went by things calmed down, and not long after that, Snape clearly heard the couple pronouncing their wedding vows, and the crowd cheering. But suddenly, it wasn't cries of joy but panicked screams that reached him, and he was suddenly all ears. That voice in the distance... it was Kingsley's! A Patronus, the Death Eaters!

Snape swore under his breath. He should have guessed, but why hadn't he been aware of that particular attack? A few days ago, he was still a fully trusted Death Eater!

Potter was apparently wondering the same, as it took his new master only a few seconds to break in the shed, slamming the door, face red with anger.

"You! You got them through the wards!" he spat, his wand aimed at Snape.

"Don't be stupid, Potter, I haven't had any contact with..."

But before he could finish, a bushy haired tornado joined them, panicked.

"Harry! We need to leave, now!" cried Hermione, quickly followed by Ron.

"We can't just leave everybody like that, we need to help..." the young man protested, to no avail.

"Harry, they're after you! We need to leave immediately, I've got everything," said Hermione, displaying her beaded bag. Outside, the screams were increasing in frequency.

"She's right, we need to go, but we need to figure out where," said Ron.

"Grimmauld Place," Snape stepped in. "It's the safest place."

Potter squinted suspiciously.

"Is this another trap, Snape? One of your tricks?"

"No, he can't lie," Hermione reminded him. "Professor, answer to Harry, is the house booby-trapped? Is there any risk in our going there?"

"Not that I know of," the wizard answered. "The place is under Fidelius, only Order members can enter."

"You didn't reveal the hideout to Voldemort?" Harry demanded.

"No, for Merlin’s sake!" the professor bellowed. "Miss Granger is right, they are after you, you cannot stay here!"

"Very well," said Harry, defeated. "To Grimmauld Place, then... quickly!"

They could hear footsteps racing to the shed, and so they didn't waste a moment. When the shed's door was kicked open, the Death Eaters only found an empty shed with an unused bed...

At Grimmauld Place, the four wizards cautiously entered what had once been Sirius' house.

"It’s strange there isn’t more protection after what happened," said Ron, stepping hesitantly. "I guess Moody..."

He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a ghostly grey figure that started moving towards them, its tortured face hollow. They all recognized it instantly.

"Dumbledore," Harry muttered.

Snape, livid, didn't make a move.

"It's only a spell," he finally said in an empty voice, "nothing but a trap constructed by Moody..."

But the ghostly silhouette kept moving forward.

"We didn't kill you," Harry finally whispered, "he did..."

But the apparition had already disappeared, scattering in the air like a firework. All faces turned towards the still ashen Snape.

"Albus’ death wasn't my doing," he said.

That was enough to make Harry jump at him, clenching his robes.

"Not your doing? How dare you?" he hissed. "He came to get you! You killed him, and Moody too!"

"That was staged, Potter, a trick, even you should understand that!" Snape shouted without trying to get away. Harry thought he saw a flash of fear in his eyes, but it did nothing to appease him. 

"So I'm stupid, right? Well, I might be stupid, but I still am your master, you would do well to show me some respect!"

A strangled sound came from Hermione’s direction. Snape, on the other hand, ground his teeth together.

"Forgive me, master."

Harry's lips stretched into a humourless smile.

"That's better."

"Harry!"

"Hermione, let it go. If we have to live with him, it’s best to make things clear from the get-go. There is no way he's going to treat us like we're still at Hogwarts," the young man replied.

"That’s still not an excuse for..." Hermione started before being interrupted by Ron's impatient voice.

"Hey, if you're going to squabble, I'd rather we ensured the house doesn’t have any more nasty surprises first. If you guys don’t mind."

Hermione blushed slightly.

"Hominum revelio," she cast.

The two boys watched her, perplexed.

"We are the only ones here," she explained. "But I don't know if any other curses have been set up."

"Snape, go check out the house, then report back to tell us if it's trapped," Harry ordered.

The wizard nodded and left quietly.

"Harry, that isn't fair," Hermione commented.

"Why not? He is the adult and the teacher, as far as I know. And the expert in dark magic, too."

"You know what I meant", the young woman warned. Ron let out a long-suffering sigh, but the discussion didn't have a chance to go further. A high, screechy voice suddenly echoed from down the corridor, making them jump.

"Mudblood! A mudblood in my house! How dare you! Shame! Shame and pestilence on you, dregs of wizardkind!"

"Oh no, not her again," Ron groaned.

"Traitor to your race and your blood! Leave my house at once, you corrupted cockroach!" the hysterical voice of Walburga Black shrieked.

"I thought she’d been removed," Harry said. "I don't know how, but we need to shut her up or she'll drive us crazy before the day’s over!"

"And the worst part is, she's still behind her curtain right now," Hermione noted.

"Silence, you half-bloods! Get out at once, you have no right to tread on the noble Black home!" the portrait bayed.

"Actually, you are the one in my house," Harry pointed out with some amusement. "I inherited it, and the first thing I am going to do, now that I'm settling here, will be to send your portrait straight to the dump. I wonder if we could burn it?"

"You impertinent brat!" Mrs Black shrieked. "Lies, it's all lies! A pureblood's house will never belong to a half-blood like you, horrible creature! You will pay for your insolence!"

"Seriously, we need to find a way to destroy that thing," Ron said. "If she calls Hermione a mudblood one more time, I don't know what I'll do."

"Nothing, of course," the young witch answered. "It's just a portrait, that woman has been dead for years. Don't pay attention to her, she can't do anything to hurt us."

"Except for getting on our nerves, you mean," Ron corrected. "As far as I am concerned, that's more than enough. When I think that the Death Eaters are attacking my home right now... how are we going to get any news? People might have been killed, and we have no way of knowing!"

"We'll find a way," Hermione tried to sooth him. "I'm sure everybody is fine. The Order was probably on its way to help, and there were a lot of people at the Burrow. It's the Death Eaters that should worry."

"Ah!" Ron said, his face going red with anger. "I really hope they shot a few of those dirtbags down! Otherwise, I can still get to the one currently roaming in the house..."

"Ron! Take that back, that's horrible!" Hermione exclaimed. "He certainly had no choice when doing what he did, and even less in being what he is!”

"That's what he says, but you know him, he can't be trusted."

"We’ll have to, though," Harry sighed. "At least he'll be useful. I wonder what he’s doing, he sure is taking his time..."

"Traitors! Mudbloods! Ignoble wizards!" the portrait continued shouting, before suddenly dropping an octave. "Ah, and here comes the slave! Not so haughty now, are we? We've got a new master, a half-blood, and everyone knows! Ooooh yes, no more playing the professor, the slave is back at his master's feet!"

The three teenagers turned to see Snape walking toward them, acting like he hadn't heard anything.

"The house is safe," he announced calmly, jaw clenched.

"Good, let's settle in, then," Harry said.

"And thank you, professor," Hermione thanked him with a smile. Snape nodded curtly.

"Well, what rooms then?" asked Ron, still nervous. "The same as last time? I guess we'd better stay together."

"Yes, that’ll be simpler. Snape can sleep on the ground floor and keep guard," Harry said acidly.

"About that, is there any way to communicate with the outside world? The floo or something?"

"No," the professor answered. "It’s been shut off."

"They’ll send us news as soon as they can, Ron, don't worry," Hermione said soothingly.

"Can't we send Snape to check?" the red head suggested.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted indignantly. "That's out of question!"

At his side, Harry rubbed his forehead discreetly. Not discreetly enough, though.

"Harry, your scar! Is it hurting you?" the young witch demanded.

"Not much, it's just... irritating me. It's weird, by the way, I should have clearer visions by now. I don't like it."

"Is that some kind of joke?" Hermione inquired, crossing her arms. "It's a good thing Voldemort can't access your thoughts! The connection is way too dangerous; and you should start working on your Occlumency, it's a good thing Professor Snape is here, you can get back to it."

"Absolutely not," both men voiced at the same time. Harry sent a murderous look at Snape who dropped his eyes to the floor.

"You will do as you’re told," the young man lashed out. "And if I do want these lessons, you will ensure they aren’t torture sessions like before!"

"You don't understand," Snape said, frustrated. "I cannot enter your mind without your permission, which makes the whole exercise pointless. You, on the other side, can delve into mine as you wish with no effort or training. Any lessons would be pointless."

"Well isn’t that convenient for you!" Harry shouted. But when Snape only stared at him, arms crossed over his chest with a vaguely puzzled expression, he couldn't help but blush. No, it probably wasn't convenient for Snape that he could read his thoughts effortlessly...

"Anyway, do you have a way to communicate with the Order?" Ron asked. "We need to know what's going on at the Burrow!"

"No, Mr Weasley, I'm sorry."

"Dammit, if they hurt anyone, I swear I..."

"Stop swearing, Ronald Weasley," Hermione said icily. Then softening, "I’m sure they’ll contact us. Just give them some time."

"I don't see why we can't send Snape, it's not as if they’d shoot him down or something, he's with them after all!" Ron said frantically.

"I don't think it's a good idea, they would probably love to get their hands on him, it wouldn't be safe,” Harry told him.

"So if I understand you correctly, you'd rather protect him than my family?" Ron demanded, his fists clenched. 

"That's not what I said!" Harry protested.

"Stop it, both of you, you're being ridiculous," Hermione tried to intervene

The argument was cut short by a silver weasel, which made its way between them, glowing brightly. Mr Weasley's voice filled the sudden silence.

"Everything is alright at home, everyone is safe and sound. Don't answer, we are being watched."

Ron let out a small cry of relief and collapsed onto the floor, where Hermione joined him, putting an arm round his shoulders.

Then the Patronus faded away, leaving behind an object that rolled across the corridor's carpet. Intrigued, Harry stepped closer to pick it up and stood, shocked. A wand. A black wand. And an easily recognizable wand too, this one was strongly associated with the image of the most feared teacher of Hogwarts, who was right now standing a few steps away from him, staring at it with a shadow of hope in his dark eyes.

Wordlessly, Harry went to Snape and handed him the wand.

"Mr Potter?" the man asked.

Ill at ease, Harry held out the wand.

"Take it, it's yours," he barked, irritated. "It's all yours."

"If that is your wish," Snape said, accepting it.

"What kind of game are you playing?" the young wizard snapped. "All this time, you’ve been unarmed? What exactly did you do, to check that the house wasn't trapped?"

"I simply entered every room and handled every potentially dangerous object. As nothing happened, I assumed the place was safe," the professor quietly explained.

Harry was speechless. He had sent Snape as a scout without a hope of defending himself.  He hadn't even realized that he hadn't returned the wand after that night, under the oak... And that stupid git hadn't said anything about it.

"Is another ritual required for you to use it?"

"No. My wand belongs to you, but if you want me to keep on doing magic, it will, of course, be at your service," the slave said.

Harry suddenly felt tired. His slave... at his service. If his relieved look was to judge by, Snape had thought he would forbid him from using magic. Probably the worst punishment for a wizard like him. He shook his head; no, he wasn't going to pity Snape. His gaze lingered on the black wand and the long, elegant fingers softly caressing it. The last time he had seen this wand in action, it was on top of the Astronomy Tower, when Dumbledore...

He ground his teeth.

"Very well. Then make yourself useful and go cook something to eat. And then make sure there’s no trace of black magic in this house one more time. And while you're at it... find a way to shut up that harpy!" he growled, pointing at Walpurga Black's portrait, which was still going strong.

He turned toward his friends, who were hugging each other tightly and whispering to each other. The sight nearly made him smile, but then the voice behind him killed it.

"Yes, master."

He shivered. And for whatever reason, Harry realized at that moment that, yes, at least from the mouth of that traitor... he liked that word.

 

More than relieved to be dismissed, Snape paced quickly to the kitchen. 

 

Cooking... stupid brat. Did he even check to see if these dusty cupboards contained anything to eat? Of course not. And a quick search confirmed his suspicions: pans, cutlery, oven... yes, there was everything necessary to cook with except for the food!

 

What had he expected? The house had been left empty after Kreacher's departure, and unless he went out shopping...

 

He groaned. No, that wouldn't be acceptable or wise right now. He would have to do what he could with what was available, and try using his potion skills to make it edible. He doubted Potter would appreciate the meal of dry lentils and salted meat he was going to serve, but he and his friends would just have to deal with it. Hopefully he wouldn't blame his new house elf for sabotaging the meal... Damn, he was really going to miss the Hogwarts house elves.

 

Thank Merlin, he apparently had an ally in the Granger girl, she hadn't allowed Potter treat his slave as he wished. He was reminded of Minerva, laughing and telling her colleagues about the young Gryffindor's crusade to free the house elves. At the time, it had occurred to him that her inclination for defending the oppressed in general and slaves in particular could be useful someday. He had refused to picture himself in that situation, and yet... it was a good thing he hadn't completely alienated this particular Gryffindor and given her the grades she deserved. One good grade in a class couldn't hurt, after all.

 

The smell wafting from the cauldron was becoming acceptable and he set the table with a few flicks of his wand.

 

"Dinner is ready," he shouted in the direction of the living-room.

His three former students arrived at once, clearly much more relaxed. The worst of the storm seemed to be past.

 

"What did you make? I hope you didn't try to poison us, Snape, that would be a very bad idea!" shouted Potter; the mere sight of his former teacher seemed to be sufficient to infuriate him.

 

"Harry, don't be stupid," the young woman said at once. "You know perfectly well that he can't hurt you in any way. Thank you, professor, it smells really good," she added with a compassionate smile.

 

Snape gritted his teeth. He didn't know what annoyed him the most: his master’s aggression, or Granger's pity. One way or the other, the sooner he could get away, the better.

 

Quickly piling food onto three plates with as much grace as he could muster, he nearly made it to the door before a voice stopped him.

 

"Professor, aren't you going to eat with us?"

 

Granger. Again.

 

"Thank you, Miss Granger, but I still need to ensure the safety of this house and disable the portrait. I wish you a good meal."

 

Politeness. Always. Well ingrained from an early age, even when his only wish was to spit at his so-called masters. Snape turned to the exit again, but he could feel the heavy stare of reproach the young woman was giving her friend.

 

"All right, all right," Potter groaned. "Snape, get a plate and go eat somewhere... in your room, I guess you have one?"

 

He nodded and helped himself a modest portion of lentils. Better not abuse the brat's forced generosity. The whole situation had spoiled his appetite anyway.

"Harry, he can eat with us!" the eternal defender of lost causes protested. "After all, he is in the same boat as us, whether we want to admit it or not."

The boy groaned through clenched teeth.

"Look, Hermione, be reasonable, it's enough that we have to put up with him all day, I would like to eat in peace!"

"A meal that he prepared, if you remember," Hermione replied drily.

"Yeah, well, considering the result, I'm not sure that’s really an argument in his favour," the young Weasley said, dropping a spoonful of lentils back onto his plate with a disgusted face.

 

"I am sorry, but there was nothing else available to eat," Snape answered. "If you intend to stay here much longer, it will be necessary to go outside for food."

"Well, you can deal with that," Potter said coldly. "I agree with Ron. This kind of meal is not acceptable. After all those years stressing over how a potion should be absolutely perfect, I am not impressed!"

"Harry!" Granger cried, horrified. "Professor, I am so sorry, we are all a bit nervous today, of course you did your best..."

 

A heavy silence stretched for a few seconds.

"May I leave?" Snape finally asked, still holding his plate.

"Yes, beat it, and do whatever you have to," Potter grumbled without looking up.

Which he did, refusing to let any emotion show. Like his former masters, Potter could take a lot from him... but not everything. His pride was his. And for these little things, life was still worth living, even at the hands of a capricious brat. At least, that was what Severus Snape told himself as he walked into his designated room, a knot eating a hole in his stomach.

 

He had gotten spoiled. Fifteen years of semi-freedom... it was more than any slave could hope for. But the return to normality was a bitter pill at the age of nearly forty. And furthermore, Weasley had been right, the mixture he’d brewed was vile. He would probably pay for that later, but for now, he had more urgent matters to tend to. Quickly finishing his portion, he proceeded to track down each and every trace of dark magic in the house. The building, of course, was full of it; what else could you expect from the Blacks? But none of the spells seemed to be either recent or dangerous, and he finally resolved to get to the more difficult task: silencing the infamous portrait of Walpurga Black. It hadn't stopped screaming since they’d left the hallway, but when the old harpy saw him approach, she finally stopped to inspect him from top to bottom.

 

"Severus Snape. Well well... is this a step up? In the hands of a half-blood, after being the valet of a mudblood. What is the next step, slave?"

Unmoved, Snape casted a diagnostic spell on the painting. The curses were strong... this game would be a long one. Long and tiring, if the painting kept talking the entire time.

"To think I tried to convince Abraxas to sell you for years... you would have been perfect for my son," the witch whispered, her cold stare gauging Snape, who couldn't help but shiver. 

"But oh no, he would only rent you, to hell with his soul. And now that I’ve got you here, Snape, you are going to answer me... what happened? What happened to my son?"

"Crazy old bat..." the wizard muttered, attacking the spells protecting the portrait.

"I may be old, but I am certainly not senile! Who killed him, Snape? I know something terrible happened and Kreacher wouldn’t say a word about it!"

"How can that matter now? He’s long dead, and so are you. Go and ask him, I have no doubt he will have plenty to tell his old mummy," Snape retorted.

"Insolent vermin!" Walpurga shrieked, claws out. "Answer me, slave! I paid enough money for your services to Abraxas Malfoy, I demand to know! Why did Regulus need you so much? Potions? Potions for the Dark Lord?"

 

"At first, yes," Snape said absentmindedly, concentrating on the spells.

"So?" the portrait said, losing patience. "What else? How did he die? I know you have the answer, stupid creature! What happened?"

"How well did you know your son, Mrs Black? Your sons, actually. In so far as the infamous Sirius can be considered as such, after all your efforts to repudiate him."

"Don't say that name," Walpurga hissed. "That renegade... I should have given you to him! That would have been a pleasant task, wouldn't it have? To entertain my traitor of a son! He who liked so much to flirt with mudbloods and half-bloods, he certainly would have find nice ways to use you!"

 

"Not that Regulus lacked imagination for that," Snape said ironically, changing his angle of attack, trying to find a flaw in the layers of intertwined spells.

 

"My son would never touch an inferior creature in that way! He was no betrayer of his rank; one black sheep is quite enough for one family," the witch barked. "The truth now, I want the truth!"

"You might be surprised," Snape mused. "Regulus certainly didn't have the same appeal as his brother with the witches, high rank or not, did he? But then, why not? The truth, Mrs Black? You want to hear he truth about your son’s tragic fate?"

 

Walpurga Black examined the slave’s sly half-smile for a moment before nodding stiffly.

"The young Regulus... certainly didn't lack enthusiasm for the cause," Snape started, without pausing his intricate wandwork. "He desperately wanted to please his master. Potions. Spells. Adequate training, efficient assistance on his assignments. Everything I could provide him, really. And it was so tempting, after all, to keep on renting my services even after I changed hands, and by the same token, changed sides. Did he have your approval? Probably not. But he still did it. James Potter was only too happy to get a chance to redeem a Death Eater, and his best friend's brother at that."

"Traitor," the witch hissed in her portrait. "You vile, disgusting traitor..."

 

"Traitor, me?" Snape barked a laugh. "Absolutely not. Eternally committed to the cause of my master, whoever that may be. That is what my condition implies, remember. That was what delighted you so much, once upon a time. A dangerous game for Regulus, yes... but he was confident in his abilities. And actually, he didn't have much choice. He may well have been a good and well-mannered lad, but he certainly wasn't Merlin's heir, was he?"

Without wasting a second, Walpurga started up the insults and curses, which Snape answered with a cool chuckle.

 

"Anyway, he apparently wasn't such a good son, in the end. At least not according to his dear family’s ideals. He had, it turned out, more brains that I’d given him credit for. When the reality of his Death Eater vocation sank in, he backed off in horror. Ironically, his sense of honour prevented him from doing the only thing that could have saved him at that point: running to his brother and turning his back to his dear pureblood family."

"Never!" Walpurga shouted, nearly managing break Snape's concentration. "Liar, untrustworthy slave! I demand the truth, I refuse to listen to these lies any longer! Go fetch to your master and tell him to come and talk to me!"

 

"Oh, but I'm not done with my story," Snape continued, a slight smile on his lips. "Regulus, then. He didn't have time to find out what his family would think of his loyalties, actually. Our dear Regulus had rather... radical ideas. Once he decided to leave the Death Eaters rank, he immediately set on a course to destroy his master. Say whatever you wish, inbreeding in pureblood families..."

"Shut up, slave!" the witch screamed again, foaming from rage. "I ordered you to get your master! Obey!"

Snape shot her an annoyed glance.

 

"Would you please stop ruining my only bit of pleasure for the day and let me finish my story? A story that you yourself requested, if you’ll remember. Please note that I am under no obligation whatsoever to obey a damn portrait, especially one that my master ordered me to destroy. Where was I? Ah, yes, Regulus. Regulus and Horcruxes. A wonderful quest for a wizard with such pathetic academic skills."

In her frame, Walpurga Black was spewing threats and insults, clawing at the canvas in a frantic effort to throttle the former professor, who was now displaying a distinctly satisfied expression.

 

"At any rate, I helped your son. Not that I had any choice in the matter, of course... but I did help him. Until the day that your spawn found himself confronted with something stronger than him. He wouldn't listen to my warnings... in fact, as I owe you the truth, I think he was tired. Of you, actually. It was more complicated than that of course, but that gives the general idea. To cut a long and pathetic story short, the brave Regulus sacrificed himself in the depths of a dark cave filled with Inferi, for a cause that he believed was worthy although his family would not have agreed. A rather nasty death, but if it’s of any comfort, he was too weak to scream by that point. He seemed rather resigned. Yes, resigned."

 

Face displaying clearly her feelings, Walpurga stared at Snape, her gaze as venomous as any basilisk's.

"And as for your other son, he died idiotically, because of his upbringing, because of his stupid values and his complete inability to adapt to the world around him. If you have any other questions, Mrs Black, I suggest you ask them now. You have exactly ten seconds, before the spell I just cast takes effect and forces you into permanent silence, to the tremendous satisfaction of the living."

 

For a second, the portrait seemed to panic. Testing the wards on her frame, Walpurga only wasted a second to run her own diagnostic. Lost... she had lost for sure this time. Baring her yellowed teeth, she turned to glare with hatred and contempt.

"Damn you."

"Oh, no need to worry about that," the wizard quietly answered. "I already am."

 

The next moment the frame was on fire, devouring the portrait in an instant and leaving only a dark shadow on the tapestry. With a sigh, Snape leaned against the wall. It was done. He’d never liked Walpurga Black, either alive or as a painting, but at least the witch had respected the pact established with Abraxas Malfoy: his sons had not known of his station until it was public knowledge. Merlin knew his existence could have become a lot more complicated if Sirius Black had had that kind of power over him... but to educate a slave at Hogwarts was a serious offense to pureblood etiquette, and the Malfoys would have never agreed willingly to let that be known.

 

If they hadn't been desperate for a spy in Hogwarts... if the Dark Lord hadn't forced them... he shook his head. All this belonged to the past.

"Are you finished?"

The peevish voice was impossible not to identify. Snape straightened, repressing a curt reply, and nodded. The young man inspected the wall appreciatively.

"Good job," he said.

The professor was almost surprised.

"Now, I'm wondering why you didn't do it sooner," the brat added acidly.

 

Snape shrugged, too weary to explain Dumbledore's complicated motivations, may the devil have his soul. But Potter was obviously not in the mood to be satisfied with that.

"You could answer when I talk to you!" he snapped. "If I had answered you that way at Hogwarts, you would have taken points from Gryffindor and probably given me detention, wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Snape admitted, straightening a bit more.

"Well, your turn to live to your own rules. Either with me or with the others. I don't care what Hermione says, you are not my professor anymore and I don't owe you any respect. You scared me, you know, when I first came to Hogwarts..."

 

"You hid it well," Snape replied soberly.

"I didn't have much else to defend myself, did I?" Harry retorted. "No parents to complain to... I didn't know anyone... but things have changed. And now, I want to see that respect you talked about so much. As for me, I will show you as much as you showed me... turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

"You’ve become rather vindictive, Mr Potter."

The brat smiled, a smile he didn't like.

"I had a good teacher."

 

With that, he turned around to go back to his friends, leaving behind a thoughtful Snape. The wheel of fate was really turning very quickly; only a few months ago, even Potter’s sly smile would have earned him a very long session scrubbing cauldrons.

Yes, the wheel was turning quickly now... and the boy should probably learn a lesson out of that. Because whatever fate had in store for him, Severus Snape harboured no illusions that the times would prove to be cruel to his young master... and to those around him.

"Professor?"

The small voice snatched him out of his thoughts.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

 

"I'm sorry about Harry. He doesn't understand yet... he is tired and nervous. He will adjust," the young witch tried to apologize awkwardly. "Do you have everything you need in your room?"

"Yes, thank you. How can I help you?" Snape answered courteously.

"Well..." Hermione hesitated. "You are going to think I am absolutely terrible, but I can't help but being happy that we have a teacher with us. I wouldn't have left Harry and anyway, Hogwarts... nevermind. But I had enough time to pack some books and I was wondering if you could help me on some subjects?"

"Potions, I assume?"

"Amongst other things, yes," Hermione agreed with a relieved smile.

 

"Of course. I am at your disposal," Snape said.

 

"Thank you, professor, really," she said in a grateful voice. "I left my books in the living room, over there."

One minute later, she got out of the bag an impressive number of books of all kinds and, after a long dilemma, chose a Defense Against Dark Arts volume.

"I think you know as much as any teacher we’ve had about that," Hermione hinted.

"Probably more, actually, considering the string of complete incompetents you’ve had."

"Good, good... actually I had a question about..."

 

In the next room, Ron let out a groan.

"Merlin, they’ll be at it for hours. We might as well go to sleep, Hermione will come later. I'm starting to think I'm going to be jealous of this guy..."

"There really is no reason," Harry snarled. "Have you looked at him? He probably hasn't showered in a month."

"Well at least not in the last two days; he didn't have a chance at the Burrow," Ron answered philosophically. "But I understand why Hermione’s happy, I am rather relieved too, to be honest. Snape on our side, it's quite something."

"What is it with you all?" Harry said, frowning. "I know he is a slave. I do feel sorry for him, but honestly, if anyone deserved it he does, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Ron answered, avoiding his gaze. "Bill told me a bit about it... look, it's not that simple, Harry."

 

"Not that simple? He killed Dumbledore, I saw him!"

"I know, I know, no need to get so upset! What I mean is, he certainly didn't have a choice. Slaves don’t have much choice from their birth, it’s like... a punishment in itself already. It's a pretty awful curse, from what Bill told me. You should talk to him about it, Harry, really."

"Not tonight," said the young man as he walked to the stairs, downcast. "I don't want to think about him. I don't care what he did, who he obeyed... it's Snape, dammit! Snape! He hates us, we hate him... nothing has changed!"

Behind him, Ron shrugged.

"We'll see. For now, I mostly want to sleep... should we take the same room as before?"

It seemed to Hermione that Harry was agreeing, but their voices were lost in the upper floor. Satisfied, she closed the book she’d just opened.

"Professor, there is something else we need to talk about. You are bond to secrecy, aren't you? Even with me?"

 

"No," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "But my master's interest clearly goes along with yours. I'm listening."

"Well, don't tell anyone about this because that’s what Harry would want," the young witch told him, leaning forward intently. "I heard what you said to the portrait earlier... I would like you to tell me everything you know about Horcruxes," she dropped the bomb.

Taking a deep breath, Snape leaned back in his armchair.

"So, that’s what this is about? Destroying the horcruxes. Voldemort's Horcruxes. This is the mission Dumbledore entrusted you with?"

Hermione nodded gently without averting her eyes. Releasing his breath, Snape closed his eyes. 
This was it. He was officially back in hell.

 

 

Snape crossed his arms on his chest and locked eyes with the young woman.

 

"Horcruxes are soul fragments, hidden inside object or living beings. They are what keeps the Dark Lord alive. No matter what happens, so long as they remain unharmed, he cannot be destroyed. This is why Dumbledore prepared for his inevitable return all those years."

 

"So the Potters died for nothing," Hermione muttered.

 

"They saved their son, which was their main objective," Snape said with some bitterness.

 

"And you said that living beings can be Horcruxes? Are you thinking about anything in particular?"

 

"Merely a hunch... but I always thought there was something off about Nagini. Even considering that Voldemort speaks Parseltongue, that snake shouldn't behave the way she does. There is something... off about her. Something dark," Snape murmured pensively.

 

"Are you sure? Is there a way to find out?" the witch asked eagerly.

 

"Probably not without killing it. Which wouldn't be a great loss in any case."

 

"I suppose so," Hermione sighed. "What else do you know about these Horcuxes? Do you know of any?"

 

"According to the research my masters have conducted, there were probably six total, three of which remain active to my knowledge. There was the diary, which Mr. Potter destroyed... a ring, that the headmaster also destroyed."

 

Snape's grimace didn't escape Hermione.

 

"What happened?"

 

"Albus was unequivocally idiotic," the professor muttered, staring into nothingness. "For no apparent reason, he actually tried to wear the ring. It was naturally protected by a curse... and a deadly one, impossible to counter."

 

"Are you telling me he was going to die? From that curse?"

 

"Sooner or later, certainly. He didn't have more than a few months to live, at best. Such folly... I will never understand what could drive him to do such a thing. Anyway, he destroyed the ring shortly afterwards, that particular Horcrux won't bother anyone again."

 

But Hermione wasn't fooled by the subject change.

 

"So does that mean he asked you to kill him? It was staged, wasn't it? He planned it?"

 

There was such hope in the young witch's voice that Snape couldn't help but pity her. These children would have to learn quickly that the world wasn't fair, heroic or controllable... but in this instance, he couldn't deny that Granger was right. Stupid Gryffindors...

 

"Yes. Albus Dumbledore chose his death," he answered.

 

"And then he let you take the blame for his murder," Hermione muttered.

 

"For the greatest good, once again," Snape said darkly. "But he knew that I would be unreachable for all prosecution only a few weeks afterward."

 

"Still," Hermione murmured pensively, "he could have left something for Harry, a note, to tell him..."

 

"I'd thought he would have, yes," the professor bitterly replied, "but he probably didn't have time. It was very... sudden. At any rate, the ring has been destroyed, as well as the locket used to be in that cave."

 

"But you already knew that, didn't you? Why didn't you tell the Headmaster before he took Harry there?"

 

"I did; he didn't believe me. At that time, Voldemort was aware that Regulus was hunting Horcruxes, and Albus was convinced that he had swapped the locket with another one to trap the lad. He was wrong. Somehow, I believe he also viewed that particular expedition as some kind of initiation..."

 

And Merlin knew that the old man loved initiations. If it had been up to him, he would gladly have spared his young master from facing the Dark Lord at eleven, or a basilisk at twelve. Despite all the repulsion the boy inspired in him, he was still Lily's son. But no, he had to fulfill his destiny, and so face the worst of creatures so that he could become the arrogant, insolent young man he was now. What a success. And now that they were at the very heart of said destiny, Snape had a nasty suspicion that Dumbledore had been wrong. He hadn't given the boy the right weapons.

 

From what he had seen so far, Potter's best chance laid in the closely knit friendship of his two companions and their collaboration.

And, now, his new slave...

 

"But the Horcrux, what happened to it?" Hermione asked, frowning.

 

"I destroyed it," Snape said. "Fiendfyre, a simple if extreme method for someone who is familiar with dark magic."

 

"I am not sure Harry would approve..."

 

Probably not... and there were certainly going to be a lot of things that his master wouldn't approve of in the near future. But one way or another, the boy would have to deal with it.

"There aren't many alternatives," the professor explained. "If, as I understand, you started a hunt for the remaining Horcruxes, you will be forced to use either this option, or an exceptionally potent poison, such as basilisk venom. But I assume Mr. Potter has already researched this."

 

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "As you said, everything was fast and confusing. He pretends he doesn't know anymore than what he told us, and I must admit it worries me. What are we looking for, Professor?"

 

"Cursed and well hidden artifacts. Probably objects with some prestige, such as Slytherin's locket. And of course, they are all possessed. Charming outlook, isn't it?"

 

"Well, it's not as if we have a choice," the young woman answered with resignation. "Unless you have a better idea?"

 

"I don't have any ideas, Miss Granger," Snape answered. "I merely serve my master."

 

"Do I need to ask Harry to order you to think?" Hermione asked sarcastically.

 

"To think is one thing, finding solutions to defeat the Dark Lord on the other hand... for two galleons an hour, that is asking a lot."

 

"Two galleons an hour? What are you talking about?"

 

"That is the price the late Regulus Black paid to rent me to Lucius. For all the good it did him," Snape ranted. "At that price, or for none, don't hope for more miracles that he got."

 

"But you've done this already, and you have some knowledge about it... to be honest, in our situation, that is a miracle in itself," Hermione sighed. "Don't take this the wrong way, professor, but you've arrived with perfect timing."

 

"If you say so, Miss Granger. Do you require anything else?"

 

"No. Yes. Stay here, I'll get the boys... better to tell them directly, after all. Good news is all too rare these days."

 

Raising from her armchair, she walked to the corridor.

 

"Ron, Harry? Could you come down for a minute?" she shouted to the upper level. Immediately the two teenagers ran to meet her, suspicious.

 

"What did he do this time?" Harry demanded, shooting Snape a dark look.

 

"I am tempted to say nothing, but that would be disrespectful to the professor," Hermione answered dryly. "Actually, Professor Snape has some interesting information about Horcruxes."

"Hermione!" Harry shouted, "Don't tell me you told him about that? I told you it was a secret, a secret Dumbledore confided to me, and you run to tell his murderer? How stupid are you?"

He was nearly screaming by the end of his tirade, and both Ron and Hermione frowned disapprovingly.

"Don't talk to her like that," Ron warned, his voice menacing. "Snape might be your slave, but Hermione isn't and you have no right to treat her like that! We are here to help, remember? And I think it was rather a good idea," he added with a nod to the young witch.

Hermione smiled at him weakly, relieved.

"At least wait to know what this is about before you mount your high horse,” she said. "And remember that the professor cannot betray you, whatever he thinks about you and you think about him!"

"Oh, you can call him Snape," Harry sneered, "because if one thing is sure, as long as I am alive, he will never teach again."

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, dismayed. But the young man didn't seem to care.

"What? He's the worst teacher we ever had, you can't say anything else. Merlin, he was the worst teacher ever, incapable of teaching, too busy terrorizing students and taking revenge on kids. Well sorry, professor, but your career as a petty tyrant is over. Next topic?"

Hermione stared at him, mouth agape, unable to say a word. It was finally Snape who broke the silence, apparently unconcerned by the scene that had just happened.

"The actual topic was indeed Horcruxes, and as Miss Granger mentioned, I happen to have dealt with the objects you are looking for in the past, and even had the opportunity to destroy one. I hope it will be useful."

"Oh, you hope, eh?" Harry hissed.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione shouted, finally recovering from the shock. "How dare you? May I know what allows you to act like a complete... complete..."

But before the young woman could drop the word, Ron stepped in, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"I get it now," he said in a quiet voice. "It's Sirius' room, isn't it? You found something?"

At these words, all the anger that seems to inhabit Harry disappeared, leaving him without energy as his shoulders subsided. With a sight, he collapsed on the arm of an armchair and pulled from his pocket a parchment and a torn photograph to Hermione.
Warily, she took and read the letter, her eyes getting damper with every line. When she finally stopped to look at the picture, her eyes were full of tears.

"Oh, Harry," she said softly, "I'm sorry. Did you find this upstairs? What about the rest?"

"I don't know," the young man said, taking the papers back. "I found them like that. Someone must have..." Stopping, he turned a suspicious glance in Snape's direction. "You! You did come here after Dumbledore's death, didn’t you?"

All the eyes turned to the professor, and for the first time, the three teenagers saw what looked like fear pass on his face. Slowly, Snape reached into his robes to get something he handed to his master, carefully avoiding his eyes.

With trembling hands, Harry took what he immediately identified as the rest of the letter and the picture. It only took him a moment to read the last paragraph and contemplate Lily's face.
Then, straightening up, he stepped menacingly toward the professor who had cautiously retreated to the back of the room.

"You bastard," he said in a hoarse voice, wand ready.

"Harry, no," Hermione stopped him. "Let him explain."

"There is nothing to explain, Miss Granger," Snape said, his gaze obstinately fixed on the opposite wall.

"What did you come here for?" Harry roared, his wand pointed at the professor's throat. "Looking for all the information you could give to Voldemort before changing masters?"

"No," Snape replied, "Nothing like that. I came to find answers...  I didn't find them."

"Answers about what? Who? How dared you steal these documents, destroy a picture of my family?" Harry said, choking with rage.

"If you would allow me," the wizard said before raising his wand. A quick spell later, the picture was in one piece again. Harry inspected it, suspicious.

"It doesn't change anything, you still had no right to do that," he hissed.

"Forgive me, master," Snape answered in a flat voice.

"And answer my question, what were you looking for?"

"Clues about Horcruxes. Regulus Black's notes. Books."

"Books? What kind of books?" Harry asked distrustfully.

"The Black's library once contained a large quantity of books about dark magic," Snape said without raising his eyes. No need to provoke the brat any further. "Original and very precious documents which I was hoping to find."

"And what for, exactly?" the boy continued.

At that moment only did the professor raise his eyes to meet Harry's, his expression so anxious that the young man was momentarily thrown off.

"Please, master, allow me to decline answering that question."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but he was interrupted by Hermione who chose that moment to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him, Harry. He cannot lie, don't make him keep talking as well. Professor, is this information important for us to know?" she asked, turning to the man in black.

"No Miss Granger," he answered, his eyes to the floor again.

Hermione turned to Harry and shrugged her shoulders with a slight smile.

"Very well," the young man groused. Actually, he was feeling rather nauseous now. All that had transpired, the way the professor had to bend his head, his slumped shoulders, this toneless voice... it felt all wrong. For a second, he wished he was faced with the potion master he had always known: sarcastic, cutting... he shook his head. No. No, he didn't want that, especially after what just happened. "Do you have anything else in this vein?" he asked sharply, showing the letter and the picture.

"No Master," the slave answered. "Only a few books of little value from your parents' library."

Master. Harry considered tell Snape not to use that word, but... changed his mind. Why not, after all? That was what he was now, whether he liked it or not.

"Where are they? The books, I mean?"

Snape hesitated for a second before answering reluctantly.

"I transferred them, as well as everything else I owned, to a house I bought a few years ago in Devon."

"Bought?" Hermione asked, surprised. "I thought slaves couldn't own anything?"

She blushed, realizing what she had said, but tried not to show her embarrassment.

"That is true," Snape confirmed. "I got help from Dumbledore for that. The papers were done under a fake name, which would have been necessary anyway. It is a muggle property, unknown to the wizarding world."

"And what money did you buy it with?" Harry asked skeptically.

"One year of wages in advance, as well as the money the Potters left me," Snape explained. "When I belonged to your parents, James Potter created a system for selling potions that worked remarkably well. At Lily's request, half of the profits were given to me, and I was able continue after I went to Hogwarts. Also, the house was very cheap, as it was but a ruin when I came into its possession. The place is perfectly habitable today though, I have spent considerable time there in the past few years."

"Then why didn't you take us here when the Death Eater attacked at the wedding?" Harry exploded. "What, you were afraid we would invade your private space?"
Snape shook his head, visibly annoyed.

"It is just an old, muggle, stone house, without any particular protection aside from basic spells, Mr. Potter. This place, on the other hand, is protected by Fidelius, a spell far more powerful than the simply muggle-repellants I placed on Mist Shack."

"Mist Shack? Is it its name?" Harry sneered.

"Albus' idea," the professor said, fighting to contain his irritation.

"Never mind," the young man finally said. "I suppose we'll be fine here anyways. But I'll keep it in mind. Though... who does the house belong to, now that Dumbledore is dead?"

"It's yours," Snape said. "As well as everything inside it."

"Mmm. I don't know what I would do with it. Anyway, don't go back there without telling me first. I want to know where you are."

"Of course."

The voice of the professor was weary, empty of his previous annoyance. Actually, Harry noticed, his eyes were unseeing, his mind obviously some place far away. At Mist Shack, probably. Well, that didn't sit well with him...

"You will keep guard tonight," he said. Then, under the force of Hermione's glare, he added: "For a few hours at least; I want to ensure that we are safe here. If all seems clear at one in the morning, go to sleep. If you have any doubts, wake me up. Do you need anything?"

Snape shook his head negatively. The only thing he wanted right now was to be alone, far away from these excitable teenagers, and especially far away from his overly sensitive master.

It was a bit late to start searching the house again. But once the brats were asleep... Potter hadn't forbidden him from continuing to search for the books, after all. A crucial mistake, really. The boy still had a lot to learn...
Tonight, he would resume his search. The manuscripts had to be here, he knew it... and he wasn't about to let Potter get his hands on them.

No one besides him would get a chance to see them. He would personally make sure of that.