Severus Snape was a miserable excuse of a human being. He was beginning to realize just how terrible a person he was. He couldn't help but blame himself for everything that had happened that summer. After all, it had been his antagonism that had caused Potter's hatred of him to flourish so violently. Lily would curse his soul to hell if she were alive. How had he been so stupid? This was all his fault, and now Potter was made to suffer for the rest of his life.

The school would find out. Severus didn't want them to, but they would. The only reasons his slavery had been kept a secret was because he was already older when it happened, his master was a fellow student, not a teacher, and he wasn't the Savior of the Wizarding World. It was going to be impossible hide this for long from the school.

In retrospect, it had been very dangerous to have kept Severus' slavery a secret from the school. It put all the other students in danger. If any of them had raised a hand against him, they would have been killed, without even knowing why. Thankfully, that had never come to pass. The only bullies Severus ever had to worry about were James and Sirius. Remus was never so bad. He just stood by and watched. He never actually participated.

Severus wasn't about to take the same risk with Potter. If he kept the slavery a secret, Draco would be dead in a week, among a few others probably. Not only would this raise many questions and cause the secret to escape, but their deaths would be useless. Severus couldn't take the responsibility for more deaths.

The only reason he was a respected wizard was because no one knew about his past, save Albus and Remus. Albus was willing to hire a lot of people with sketchy pasts, even the werewolf, even the former slave. Albus didn't view the social stigma of slavery the way the rest of the world might have. Remus never interfered with things. He also wasn't stupid. If he ratted on Severus, Severus could easily tell everyone that he was a werewolf. Severus had taken a risk dropping the hints that he had during the last school year, and finally at the end. But if a man with a condition as dangerous as lycopathy simply forgets to take his medicine, putting students in danger... James Potter was dead. The dead tell no tales. Black was in Azkaban for twelve years, and now, who knew what Black would do? Severus was aware that Black could tell a few people now that he was free. Admittedly, only the Order members, but word would get around soon enough if he chose to say anything. Severus trusted Albus to deal with Black. Severus never wanted to see or speak to Black again. Having been put in his care for those years after school had been equivalent to torture. Being a Death Eater was a relief, comparably.

The only reason Black hadn't said anything about the bond while he was still enslaved was because James made him promise not to. While much of society upheld the stigma of the bond, there were those Muggleborns in the Ministry who would have judged James Potter instead of Severus. That would have seriously damaged James' ability to become an Auror, especially since James also was not allied with powers like the Malfoys. In order to be approved as an Auror, the applicant had to pass a board inspection. Since officially there was no discrimination against Muggleborns, (the only discrimination coming from those who as individuals were Death Eaters or sympathizers), this faction of wizardry had a representative number in official Ministry positions. It would definitely have been possible to become an Auror without courting the good will of the Muggleborns, but then it would require an affiliation with the largely Death Eater pureblood population on the board. James Potter was not about to bow and scrape to the likes of the Malfoys, and without their support, his only hope of becoming an Auror was to convince the Muggleborns and halfbloods of his candidacy. And the Muggleborns would never have gone for him having a slave. They were too...influenced...by their Muggle upbringings to understand the functioning of wizarding society. They probably thought slavery should be illegal, too. So, with the purebloods not being his allies, he had to seek out the halfblood and Muggleborn support in order to achieve his career goals, and a slave would not help him garner any support from those demographics. After impressing it deeply upon Black's impulsive mind that he was not to reveal this to anyone, because it would have destroyed James' job opportunities, Black had successfully kept his mouth shut.

Not least of all, James didn't want Lily to know. Perhaps even more important to him than what the board would do to him was what Lily would do to him. Lily, a beautiful Muggleborn, raised apart from wizarding culture, wouldn't understand everything that happened. Especially since this was her former friend. Even if she and Severus weren't speaking anymore, James knew some residual loyalty must remain. Lily would have been outraged. So he had to make sure she never knew.

And now Harry knew too. Through the mist of the hangover, Severus vaguely remembered ordering him to never speak of his past to anyone. It was something Severus felt sure Potter would never disobey.

Potter was suffering. A lot. And Severus didn't like seeing it. He remembered a time not very long ago when he purposely sought a rise from the boy, provoking him beyond any rational explanation. It wasn't necessary for his role as a spy. It was for his own vindictiveness. Seeing where that vindictiveness now lead made him almost sick. To think that he had been no better than James Potter, bullying someone until he hated his attacker so much that it caused a bond. It was history repeating itself in a perverse manner. Severus hated it. He failed to be the better man. His childish revenge had simply caused the cycle of pain all over again.

Every time he looked at Potter, it reminded him of his failures. Severus desperately wished he could do something to make amends for his actions. Even though he never expected Potter to hate him that much for his inexcusable actions, it was still entirely his fault. Potter bore no blame in the formation of the bond. It was entirely Severus' fault. His fault.

His own death would free Potter. But even if that happened in time to grant Potter a long life, the public shame would still remain. A former slave may be a human being again, and he may have rights, but that wouldn't stop significant portions of society from shunning that individual. Potter would never be entirely free of his bond, even with his death. The only way this could be avoided was if it happened before the school year started, and then there would be no need for anyone more to know about the sad episode.

Even though he regularly provoked other students than Potter, he never did it as much to them. He also never interacted with those students outside of the classroom. Any life threatening explosions from which he saved them wouldn't cause a bond when he was already their teacher and charged with the responsibility of teaching them potions. Even with Potter, a stray exploding cauldron hadn't incurred a bond.

Seeing Potter suffer now, to this extent, made Severus sick, and knowing how hard he tried to humiliate the boy in the past just made it all the worse. Be careful what you wish for, or you just may get it. And you might not have the stomach for it. Severus didn't. It was all too similar to his own enslavement.

Surely the boy blamed him as much as he was blaming himself. Their hatred would never change, even if they could grow to tolerate each other out of necessity. Severus still didn't like Potter, but he pitied him and sympathized. Pity and sympathy were not what he would have wanted, though, and so he tried to hide those feelings behind a mask of cold indifference. Potter didn't need tender displays from the man who condemned him to this in the first place.

Tender displays aside, Severus had no intention of making this any harder on Potter than it needed to be. He deeply regretted ever having to raise his hand against the boy. It also stung to realize he would have relished an opportunity to strike Potter a year or two ago. He was a cruel, sadistic person. It was way past time to correct his personal faults, Severus realized. If he had noticed, if he had cared, a few years ago, he wouldn't be forced to face this ugly side of himself now. He wouldn't be forced to deal with another slavery bond. His hatred and anger were more trouble than they were worth. It was time to move on.

Severus was already making some improvement, he thought. He woke Potter from his nightmares. He woke early to let Potter use the bathroom. He drank an excessive amount of pepper-up potions. In fact, he was bordering on a dangerous amount of them, because he was such a narcoleptic. After years of dealing with his own enslavement, and then spy, Severus grew accustomed to catching little naps whenever he could. He never grew past that habit. Now, he was drinking more than was healthy to force him to stay awake for Potter's sake. The boy couldn't be tied up all day just waiting for him to fall asleep, and Severus feared the next time he would fail Potter almost as much as Potter must. Every day, Severus would wake up and wonder, "Is this the day? Is this the day I screw up and have to beat him again?" So far, the answer was always no.

"Sir?" Potter said one morning at breakfast. It was mid-August. These thoughts had consumed Severus for the last two weeks, growing more predominant every day. He was becoming sullen and morose. Potter was becoming quieter and more reclusive, avoiding him at every turn if possible. The last significant exchange between them, save for the nightmare episodes, had been at Potter's birthday.

"Yes?" Severus replied.

"I've made a decision," he said, sounding scared out of his wits.

"About what?" Severus prodded, bored and depressed.

"If - if it's okay with you," Potter stammered, "I think I'd like to sleep down here during the school year."

"Oh," Severus acknowledged.

"I understand if you don't want me down here," Potter continued hastily. "I wake you up a lot and things, and you need your sleep. I'm sorry. It's just that the school year is getting close and I thought I needed to tell you. It's okay if I sleep in the dorms. I guess Ron can tie me up. I won't be a bother to you that way."

"You can sleep here," Severus cut him off, afraid of more apologies. "I don't mind." His tone and expression declared his lack of enthusiasm though.

"But, sir - " Potter protested.

"It's alright," Severus said.

"You could move my bed." It was the first time either of them had alluded to the nightmares during the day.

"We don't have to move your bed," Severus dismissed. "It's fine where it is, is it not?"

"It would mean I wouldn't wake you up as much," Potter insisted. "I've gotten better at not needing to pee in the morning. You could leave me alone and I'd be fine."

"It's true," Severus agreed. "You rarely wake me in the morning for a bathroom visit any longer, but if your nightmares are as intense as they seem, don't you appreciate me waking you from them?"

"I do, but - " Potter cut himself off.

"But what?" Severus pressed, showing a slight interest in the conversation for the first time.

"But you don't appreciate it, sir, and I don't want to make you angry at me." Severus shrugged.

"I'm past being angry at you," he said. "You needn't worry about that. If you appreciate me waking you from the nightmares, that's the least I can do, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Potter asked, sounding confused.

"Potter," Severus sighed. "Harry. This is all my fault, and if waking up in the middle of the night is something I can do for you, it doesn't bother me."

"All your fault?" Potter questioned, sounding a little stunned.

"Yes, Harry," Severus swallowed. The boy's confusion mounted. "I shouldn't have antagonized you in school. I made you hate me, which formed the bond. It's pathetically insufficient, but I'm sorry. This was never something I intended or wanted."

"I know," Potter murmured. "It can't be easy having me around. I'm sorry too."

"That wasn't what I meant," Severus hastened to clarify. Potter wasn't going to be taking the blame for this. "I was the one at fault for provoking you. Not you. You responded naturally. I should have foreseen it, but I didn't. Your presence here is not a problem."

"But all the pepper-up potions..." Potter argued weakly. Severus realized he hadn't been very careful about hiding his potions bottles. Perhaps Potter had paid more attention in second year potions than he gave the boy credit for.

"Don't worry yourself about it," Severus said. "It's not your fault. I'll speak to your Head of House before the beginning of the school year about your sleeping arrangements, unless you would prefer to see to it yourself?"

"No," Potter whispered. "I'd rather you talk to her."

The first of September was quickly approaching, and Severus was experiencing an ever increasing anxiety. He hadn't talked to Minerva about Harry yet, because he didn't want to. He didn't want to admit to what he had done to cause this barbaric situation in the first place.

He'd been thinking about it for a month, and last night, he'd made his decision. It had resulted in a pathetically poor night's sleep. He didn't want to see Harry go through the pain and humiliation of a slave bond. Short of killing Harry, there was only one way to free him. Severus Snape, cold-hearted dungeon bat, would kill himself to free Harry. It wasn't really suicide, Severus reasoned, because this was practical. He was taking his own life as a means to an end. He didn't want to die, but he was willing to sacrifice himself to make up for his previous mistakes. It wasn't fair that Harry didn't have the ability to take his life; Severus knew first hand a slave couldn't commit suicide. He'd tried. After seeing the boy for an entire summer, skittish and terrified, Severus didn't think he could stand to see this for the rest of his life.

"I'll be going to the lab," Severus said, grabbing his cloak. Harry looked up at him from where he was sitting, studying. He looked confused. Probably because Severus never accounted to Harry where he went when he left.

"Alright, sir," Harry replied.

"Be good, okay?" Severus said, his voice shaking a bit.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Yes, everything is fine," Severus lied. "If I'm not back in time for dinner, you can go see the Headmaster." That way, Albus would be able to explain what happened.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, still looking confused.

"Goodbye, Harry," Severus said, and he tried to smile a little.

"Goodbye, sir," Harry said, turning back to his work. Severus closed the door quietly behind him.

When he got to the potions lab, he immediately went to the drawer with the knives. Pulling out an appropriately sized blade, Severus sat next to lab table while he turned the knife over and over in his hand. He was scared, and he needed to build up the courage to go through with his plan. As with all the knives in the potions lab, this one was very sharp. He didn't even have to test it. Dull knives in a potions lab was a capital sin.

After some minutes of clearing his mind, Severus felt ready to slit his wrists. He'd bleed out on the floor, but it wouldn't be hard to clean up. A few quick spells from Albus and the room would be presentable for classes in a few days. They'd need to find a new professor though. And a new spy, if the Dark Lord ever returned.

Without a second thought, he closed his eyes and drew the knife across his left wrist. Then, still not opening his eyes, he quickly switched the knife into his left hand and slit his other wrist. Now came the waiting. Soon, he'd feel cold as all the blood rushed out of him and formed puddles on the floor. Then, he wouldn't feel anything at all as his heart labored to pump enough blood to his brain and extremities. Eventually, it would become so much work that his heart would fail, and his brain would be too oxygen starved to care, because he would have passed out long ago. Out of morbid curiosity, Severus opened his eyes to see the growing pools.

There weren't any.

Severus knew he'd slit his wrists. What was happening? He grabbed the knife and looked at it carefully. There wasn't anything special about the knife. His wrists were still perfectly intact. Severus trusted his sanity enough to not think he'd imagined slitting his wrists. He remembered the pain of it. Experimentally, he tried to cut his wrist again, this time watching what happened. As the knife dragged across his skin, he saw the cut form. But before any blood could escape, the cut healed again. Severus was alarmed, but didn't know what to make of it.

A strange thought struck Severus. He needed to go check on Harry immediately. If his guess was correct, he had just made everything worse...again.

"Harry?" Severus called as he ran back into his chambers, throwing his cloak on the floor. "Harry?" He wasn't in the chair. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom," he heard a small voice call. Severus rushed into the bathroom, knowing what he would see, but fearing it all the same. Harry lay on the floor, breathing shallowly, pools of blood forming around his outstretched hands. He had two cuts on his left wrist and one on his right.

"I'm sorry, sir," Harry began. "I don't know what happened. I was studying, and..." His voice trailed off, and he sighed.

"Harry, give me your wrists," Severus said, pulling out his wand.

"I'm dying, aren't I?" Harry asked softly.

"I'm going to heal you," Severus explained, taking the left wrist first. He began an incantation. He hoped it would work. The bond had transferred his own suicide attempt to Harry, and maybe the bond would let him undo it. It wasn't like Harry had done anything to earn his ire. Maybe the bond would be merciful and let him heal the boy.

"Can't you just let me die?" Harry begged. Severus stopped mid-spell and looked at Harry for a moment, considering. Perhaps it would be for the best to let him die. Then Severus dismissed the thought.

"That would be highly irresponsible of me," he said, and continued the spell. Harry sighed sadly, but didn't argue.

Half an hour later, with Harry barely conscious, Severus finished healing the wounds. They were incredibly difficult to heal, but with enough pleading, the bond had relented and let him do what he wanted. Harry had lost incredible amounts of blood. Severus was impressed that he was still conscious at all.

"Sorry about your bathroom," Harry muttered, almost incoherently as his eyelid fluttered. "I'll clean it up."

"Don't worry about the bathroom," Severus said softly. "It can wait." Harry sighed again and seemed to fall asleep. Maybe he was, but maybe he was just tired and didn't have the energy to argue or apologize more. Severus moved Harry to a clean part of the bathroom floor. Blood smeared along Harry. He summoned a blood replenishing potion and administered it to Harry. Massaging his throat, the boy swallowed it. Severus summoned a wet rag, and began to wipe the congealing blood from Harry's hands, arms, face, and anywhere else it had collected. The boy had panicked, rushed to the bathroom, and in his hurry, got blood on everything. Then Severus cleaned Harry's clothes. He was still unresponsive, so Severus picked Harry up and brought him out to the main room. Laying him on the couch, Severus touched Harry's forehead. His temperature was low, but not dangerous. Then he summoned a glass of water and held it to Harry's lips.

Harry was not asleep. His lips parted and he drank a few swallows of water. Then he fell back into his unresponsive state. It was something of a risk, but Severus gave Harry a second dose of blood replenisher. This time, Harry swallowed it on his own. It was risky, but Severus felt that Harry had lost enough blood to warrant any risk that it incurred. Then Severus made to go tidy the bathroom, but he heard a small whimper.

"Harry?" he asked quietly.

"Don't leave me," Harry begged. "I'm sorry. Please."

"I won't leave," Severus promised, pulling his armchair close to the sofa, taking Harry's hand in his own. He squeezed it firmly, and he felt a pitifully weak squeeze returned. It was a good sign, that Harry was somewhat responsive now. They were silent for a long time, until it was growing close to nightfall, Severus sitting next to the couch, holding Harry's hand, while Harry lay there seemingly unconscious. The only sign that Harry wasn't was that every time Severus tried to get up, Harry's hand twitched a little bit. It wasn't like Harry was asking Severus to stay again, but it signalled that he was aware that Severus was leaving. So the man stayed by Harry, thinking. Thinking about how badly his plan had gone and blaming himself again.

"Why didn't you let me die?" Harry rasped resentfully, his voice hoarse from disuse. "Why didn't you let me die?"

"I'm sorry," Severus said. "I couldn't let you die."

"Some stupid bond rule?" Harry muttered quietly. "The healing seemed pretty hard, so it looked like the bond wanted me to die. For once, the bond was smart."

"No, not a rule," Severus said. "I just couldn't let you die. I'm sorry."

"You're so selfish," Harry accused. "I asked to die."

"I know," Severus sighed, still holding Harry's hand in his own. "I'm sorry."

"I hate you," Harry said. His body tensed suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he screamed hoarsely. Or at least, it would have been a scream if he had enough energy. It was more like a strangled sob. "I'm sorry! I won't say that again. I promise." The bond's flare died down.

"Be careful what you promise the bond," Severus warned quietly. "The bond is dangerous and will hold you to your word. You would do well to make sure those words never pass your lips again in regards to my person or your punishment will now be that much worse."

"Ugh," Harry moaned. "I won't say it. Sorry."

"Good," Severus said. "I know you hate me, but I don't hate you." Slipping out of his chair, he knelt by Harry's head, and ran his fingers through the boy's hair. Harry didn't object.

"Yeah, you hate me," Harry said bitterly. "You hated my father, so you hate me."

"I still hate your father," Severus agreed. "But I can't hate you, not anymore. I'm so sorry. For everything I did to you before that led up to this, for the bond, for falling asleep, for beating you, for hurting you."

"Sure, you are," Harry groaned. The pain of the bond must have flared up at that point, because Harry suddenly started apologizing. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean it." Severus, still carding through the boy's hair, squeezed Harry's hand. Once again, Harry didn't object.

"I've been no better than your father." Harry went very still and he stopped breathing. "What's wrong?" Severus asked, afraid that Harry had somehow slipped into a comatose state. Maybe that second blood replenisher hadn't been such a good idea. But then Harry's breath hitched a bit, and the boy turned his face away, making it difficult to Severus to touch his hair. "Harry? Won't you tell me what's wrong?" Harry just shook his head. "Tell me."

"You told me not to talk about your slavery and now you're telling me to talk about it!" Harry blurted out. Then Harry started whimpering. "Punishing. Help." Reluctantly, Severus slapped Harry on the cheek. It was rather hard. There would be a bright bruise in the morning. Thankfully, one hard slap was sufficient, because Harry immediately relaxed. "You gave me two conflicting orders," Harry accused. "How was I supposed to deal with that?"

"I never intended to put you in such a predicament," Severus apologized. "I revoke my previous command: Speak. Say what you will. About any subject, including my slavery. I still ask you not to speak of that to anyone else, though, except perhaps the Headmaster, should he bring it up."

"Whatever you do, don't drink more alcohol tonight," Harry began.

"I won't," Snape promised. "I can control my actions that much. It was incredibly irresponsible of me last time. Drinking while upset never bodes well for anyone."

"I'm sorry you were my dad's slave," Harry continued weakly. "You told me he used to torture you on purpose. You've never done that to me. You beat me once, and this. Not on purpose. Not even your conflicting orders, because I don't think that was on purpose. It also wasn't that bad. Maybe because it was a first offence? This is so much better than the Dursleys so far." Severus thought the light punishment was probably more related to the fact that Harry had just suffered through his rash suicide attempt rather than because it was a first offense, but he wasn't going to point that out. The bond wasn't trying to kill Harry, so it wasn't going to require a punishment that was going to cause the death of Severus' property, unless Severus decided to go overboard. While that was certainly his prerogative, the bond would never require that he kill his slave by pushing punishment beyond the physical limits. It spoke to how much Harry had suffered that day.

"Why do you want to die?"

"I'm scared of the school year. I don't want to face everyone. And what if you change? I have no protection, no recourse. The summers would always end and I'd know I would be coming to Hogwarts."

"I will never try to hurt you, Harry," Severus assured him.

"You've been calling me Harry, and you're not even drunk." Severus let the comment pass. "What happened with my wrists anyway?"

"I was trying to free you," Severus explained. "I was trying to slit my own wrists. The bond wouldn't let me die at my own hand."

"You were trying to kill yourself? For me?" Harry asked incredulously.

"I don't want to see you suffer," Severus admitted. "I thought I was going to be helping you, not hurting you."

"What else did my father do to you?"

"You don't want to know," Severus sighed sadly. "I should get you cleaned up. You could use a sponge bath before you go to bed and sleep." He summoned another wet rag. "You've lost enough blood for one day." Harry sighed, and accepted the touch of the cool cloth wordlessly as he drifted towards unconsciousness again. In a few minutes, Severus was carrying him over to the bed. He laid Harry on it and pulled the covers over the boy. Then, attaching the leash for good measure, Severus lay down in his own bed and they both fell asleep within fifteen minutes.