"Stay still, Potter," Severus ordered. Potter lay on his bed, face down in the pillows, as Severus continued to heat the brand he made. It wasn't difficult to make; just some simple transfiguration. He was heating it in the fireplace as Potter awaited the searing pain and acrid smell of burned flesh. He could see the boy shaking in anticipation, unwilling to watch as he turned the brand over in the fire. Potter tried to still his tremors, but didn't entirely succeed. Not wanting the bond to think that the boy was disobeying him, Severus added, "Just do your best. Take deep breaths and try to calm yourself."

"Can't you give me some painkillers first or something?" Potter whimpered.

"I cannot," Severus replied, pulling the brand from the flames. "Any pain you experience at my hands is meant to be something you to are endure. If I gave you anything, which I am, of course, allowed to do, it would be entirely useless at best, and at worst, it would actually increase your pain. This goes for the brand and anything else that may happen down the road. Painkillers will work if you injure yourself, but not if there is something I'm forced to do to you."

"Forced?" Potter laughed wryly. Severus stepped closer to the bed, and sensing his presence, Harry flinched away. "Aren't you going to be enjoying this?" Severus grabbed Potter by the shoulder and roughly flipped him onto his back. His eyes flashed, and Potter looked terrified as his eyes rested on the red-hot iron in his hand.

"I know you hate me, Potter," Severus began through gritted teeth, "and the feeling, quite honestly, is mutual. That doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you in excruciating pain. You can always kneel to me in the middle of the Great Hall instead. Would you prefer that?"

"N-no," Potter stammered, cringing. Not that Severus would mind him groveling before him in public. He supposed he might even enjoy that, mostly because he had a greater appreciation for mind games than brutality, but Albus had already expressed his faith in him and Severus wasn't ready to betray that trust. His conscience also was quietly nagging at him that he should do better by Potter Junior than Potter Senior had done by him. Just because he was going to try to remain reasonable with the Potter brat didn't mean that he was going to be overly lenient either. He would simply make a conscious effort to not be crueler than strictly necessary.

"Then let's get on with this, shall we?" Severus prompted calmly, indicating that Potter should expose his shoulder again. The boy rolled over, covering the back of his head with his arms. His breathing became quick and shallow.

"Try to be as still as you can," Severus instructed in a soothing voice. Startling the boy any more than he already was certainly wasn't going to help make this process any easier on either of them. "Focus on a regular breathing pattern. Ground yourself." Severus placed his left hand on Potter's left shoulder; Severus had opted for the traditional placement of the brand on the boy's right. Potter hissed as his hand made contact with the still sensitive skin from the beating. Severus positioned the brand above Potter's shoulder.

"Three...two...one!" Severus pressed the brand into Potter's shoulder, ignoring the fact that the boy tensed under his hand and let out a stifled scream into his pillow. He ignored the fact that Potter was still screaming as the iron kept eating into his tissue. To the boy's credit, he kept still. Potter didn't flinch or struggle away at all. After what seemed an eternity to both of them, Severus pulled the brand away from Potter. The skin was charred and inflamed where the brand had touched, and Potter continued to sob into the pillow. Severus cast a quick "Agaumenti," and with a hiss, the brand became cool. He set it aside, and sat on the bed next to Potter.

"The area will become black and seep pus and fluid for awhile," Severus began calmly, as though he were simply speaking of the weather. Perhaps he felt a small twinge of pity, knowing what it felt like to have red hot iron pressed into flesh. "In the healing process, it will become itchy. I highly advise that you do not scratch it, or it will begin to bleed and take that much longer to heal, risking infection as well."

"It hurts," Potter sobbed, shaking slightly now that the branding was done. "It hurts so bad."

"I can try a lotion, if you like," Severus offered, not trying to be kind, but he realized it was something James had never thought to offer him. "It may do nothing, though since anything touching the burn at this point would be uncomfortable, I doubt it would change the intensity of the pain for the worse outside of the natural scope of things." Potter shook his head. They stayed there, silent, for some minutes, until Potter's display began to wear itself out. Finally, the boy stirred and began to sit up. He wiped his tear stained face with his hands.

"Here," Severus sighed, handing him a handkerchief. He couldn't stand such messy, unseemly displays of emotion.

"Thank you, sir," Potter replied, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. Severus waved the thanks away wordlessly. "What does it look like?"

"You can look at it," Severus replied, knowing Potter spoke of the brand. He showed the boy to a mirror where Potter tried to look over his shoulder. He saw a circle, and within the circle, the letters "STS." The S's were slightly smaller than the T, which occupied the center of the circle and could take up the whole diameter. It would have been an elegant wax seal.

"What does it mean?" Potter asked weakly.

"Severus Tobias Snape," he replied. "How are you doing?"

"It hurts less," Potter admitted. "Sorry I'm such a baby."

"I can't imagine you're accustomed to the pain of a third degree burn," Severus dismissed casually. "It will take some time to feel completely better. I can dress the wound against infection, and then I advise you sleep for a bit. We can discuss more of the impacts the bond has upon your life after you're more rested." Potter nodded bleakly. "Well, go hop on the bed, and I'll be back in a minute with the dressings." The boy resumed his previous position on the bed. Severus left the room and went to a cabinet in the bathroom, where he kept various medical supplies; magic couldn't fix everything all the time.

After a minute, he returned, sitting on the bed as he had before. Dressing the burn was another thing that had never been done for him; his had become infected, and dealing with Potter's fever was not something he looked forward to. Better to prevent it in the first place. The boy lay still through the whole process of caring for the wound, and Severus was impressed at his stoicism. He didn't even cry out when Severus applied pressure to the extremely sensitive area. When he was done, Severus rose and gathered the unused supplies.

"You may stay here," he began. "Rest, and I'll wake you in time for dinner."

"Yes, sir," Potter acknowledged, and Severus left the room.

Harry drifted in and out of painful sleep the rest of the afternoon. He couldn't remember his dreams, but perhaps that was for the best. He couldn't imagine they had been good. Snape entered the room eventually, waking him from his light slumber.

"It's time for dinner, Potter," Snape said, after Harry had indicated his state of consciousness. Harry sat up and nodded. He winced when he flexed the muscles in his right shoulder.

"Could I put a shirt on?" Harry asked.

"Yes, just be careful not to jostle the bandages," Snape agreed. Harry grabbed his shirt from a nearby chair and carefully pulled it over himself, gingerly rotating his shoulder, getting used to the pain. Snape turned, and Harry followed him out to the kitchen. Snape sat down at the table, which was empty.

"So..." Harry stalled. "Do I sit on the floor or something? Is that where a good slave eats?" His voice was a fair imitation of Snape's own sneer by the end. If the man noticed, he didn't let on.

"No, and yes," Snape replied, and Harry had to mentally replay his questions to realize what the answers meant. "Typically, slaves are given whatever leftover food may or may not remain after the master and his family have had their fill. You are correct, that 'good slaves' eat on the floor. I will not require such a display, and you may also eat food from the kitchens as you would normally. The bond will not object, since it recognizes all the food the elves make as my 'leftovers.' Now, sit down." Snape gestured to a chair adjacent to his own, and Harry nervously did as he was told. Food appeared before each of them.

"Is there any sort of protocol I'm supposed to follow?" Harry asked, not touching his food. "Wait for you to give me permission to eat or something?"

"You seem to have a keen insight into how this bond works," Snape commented idly, but his eyes narrowed at the question. "Yes, I do have to give you permission to eat. If you do not obtain that permission, there will be consequences, though I hope you can appreciate that I will not look forward to your pestering me any more than you'll look forward to it!" Harry winced at Snape's tone. He knew that Snape would be annoyed at his constant presence, but if he thought that this was Harry's version of a good time, the man needed to have thicker glasses than Harry had in order to see the truth!

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"You may eat," Snape said, as he picked up his own fork. Harry did likewise, and began to eat cautiously, watching Snape's every move. They were silent for a bit.

"How much may I eat?" Harry finally blurted out.

"As much as you like," Snape replied. "While I could limit your food intake, I will not. It wouldn't be healthy for you."

"Oh," Harry eloquently said. Another silence fell over them.

"I assume you have questions?" Snape finally prompted.

"Yes, if I'm allowed to ask them," Harry answered.

"Go ahead," Snape said evenly.

"What am I going to have to do for you?"

"Menial chores," Snape replied. "Most likely things usually done by house elves, such as cleaning and cooking. I will likely have you assist me with my potions - assuming you aren't nearly as incompetent as you put on in class! - perhaps a few other things as they come up. Fetching things, and such."

"Will you be requiring any...other...favors?" Harry asked nervously. Snape narrowed his eyes at him. He didn't respond right away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Snape finally said blandly. Harry felt himself turn scarlet.

"You have absolute authority over me now, don't you?" he asked instead.

"Yes," Snape replied, raising one eyebrow as if to ask, "What did you think slavery meant?"

"You can tell me to do anything?"

"Yes."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll be punished, and I advise against that as much as possible."

"What if you - I mean, if I have a serious problem with something you ask - "

"Stop stammering," Snape sighed. "Ask your question."

"Do you have to follow any rules when dealing with me?" Harry asked.

"No," Snape said quickly. "There are no laws regarding how a master may treat his slave, just as there are no laws regarding how I treat my potions equipment or my library. You are my property, an item, a luxury, and I can do anything I want with you or to you. You have no say in it."

"I don't have any rights?" Harry gasped.

"None," Snape confirmed. "Everything you owned must be transferred into my name, and you will be allowed to own nothing. I will allow you keep possession of those things which you need and you will be allowed to use them. It simply may not be legally owned in your name."

"Everything...?" Harry asked.

"Yes, even down to the Potter vault," Snape said. Harry nodded, feeling a bit sick.

"So, if I have no rights, and you have no rules, there's nothing stopping you from - from..." Harry trailed off, unable to finish his thought.

"From what?" Snape prompted impatiently.

"From doing whatever you want!" Harry finished finally.

"Exactly," Snape agreed, a calculating expression crossing his face. "You are mine, legally and magically, and I hold absolute authority, with no restrictions, and can do with you as I please at any given moment in time." Harry definitely felt sick, and it showed. He shoved his plate away, unable to stand the smell of food. "The fact remains, Potter," Snape continued, "that I will try to be somewhat reasonable when dealing with you." Harry watched him suspiciously.

"Punishments," he began. "What will punishments be?"

"The bond requires that the punishment fit the crime," Snape explained. "A public offense would require a public punishment; do try to not publicly disrespect me in the future. A private offense requires a private punishment."

"But what are they?"

"Usually some sort of corporal punishment," Snape continued. "They are the most effective when dealing with the bonds expectations."

"So you'll hit me?" Harry asked quietly.

"There are precious other forms of corporal punishment," Snape commented. Harry gripped the seat of his chair, trying to stay calm.

"Will you beat me?"

"Potentially," Snape asserted. "I will not abuse my power over you if I can help it."

"I only have your word for that!" Harry finally blurted out. "If you can make me do whatever you want, how do I know you won't tell me to do something impossible just so you can beat me to a bloody pulp? Or turn me over to Voldemort? Or...or...somehow else use me for your pleasure!" he ended lamely. Snape raised an eyebrow again at the implication. Harry was close to tears again because of the sheer strain of the conversation.

"Potter, I will not enjoy the act of disciplining you," Snape assured him quietly, "and in that light, I will not order you to do anything that would automatically require a punishment. If it helps, I will try to rephrase my orders as requests or suggestions. It may ease the bond's perception of my intentions.

"As for my turning you over to the Dark Lord, may I remind you that there is no Dark Lord to turn you over to? Additionally, I think that allowing you to fall into the hands of one such as Lucius Malfoy to be abundantly irresponsible. It would be difficult to explain that to Dumbledore."

"So you would hand me over to them, given the chance!" Harry accused.

"I never said that," Snape denied. "I simply meant that you have politics on your side. Since my word is obviously not going to ease your mind, I am attempting to give you another reason to believe that I will no such thing. Now, as to your last accusation, since that thought seems to be preying on your mind, you are correct, there is nothing stopping me from taking full advantage of your situation. On this, you will have to take my word for it, that you could not possibly hold any interest for me in that regard. I'm surprised that you even think you could."

"Sorry, I - " Harry stammered.

"I understand your concern," Snape cut him off. "It is warranted, considering the helplessness of your position, but entirely unfounded considering who I am. A child could hardly tempt me, no matter your current situation, and I also will not expose you to anyone else who may find the offer appealing." That thought hadn't occurred to Harry at all, and his mouth opened in horror as he began to realize just how far-reaching Snape's power was. He would have to be on his best behavior or Snape could change his mind on any of these promises. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

"I appreciate that," Harry said determinedly. "I don't suppose all slaves even get the promise made to them, much less can even hope that might be kept."

"You're right," Snape conceded quietly. "Not all slaves are that lucky."

"I wouldn't call it lucky," Harry commented. "More like fortunate." Snape nodded deferentially.

"Whatever you wish to call it," Snape agreed. "Potter, I will keep my word. If you think about it rationally, I have never broken my word, and I will not break it now. Simply try to concern yourself with not angering the bond, and hopefully our coexistence will not be entirely miserable."

"Just partially," Harry said, trying to surprise a sassy smile.

"Just mostly," Snape replied sourly.

"Professor," Harry began nervously, "will I be able to continue school?"

"Of course," Snape said. "Having an uneducated slave is worse than having a slave at all. You will retain your magical ability. It will simply be...restricted."

"Restricted? How?" Harry looked horrified.

"Your magic can only be used in certain instances where I allow it," Snape clarified. "I will grant you permission to use your magic in class, of course."

"But other times?" Harry pressed frantically. "Can't you just give me permission to use it whenever? What about self-defense? What if Malfoy attacks me in the corridor or something?"

"I cannot give you permission to use it whenever, since the bond would not recognize such a freedom, just like I cannot give you permission to eat whenever you like," Snape explained. "I notice you didn't have such an objection to that issue. I wonder why. Anyway, as far as self-defense is concerned, anyone who intends you harm who has not gotten permission from me to do so will be killed instantly. You have nothing to fear from any of your classmates. They will not dare to harm you."

"But if they don't know I'm a slave - "

"I doubt you will be able to keep it a secret for long, in all honesty," Snape cut him off. "There will be telling signs for those who recognize it."

"Like...?"

"Like your having to seek me out for permission to eat before every meal in the Great Hall. Your, hopefully, more respectful behavior of my person, and my subtle change in how I instruct you, since giving you an order to make a potion correctly could be disastrous considering your abysmal abilities. Your house mates will likely see your collar if not your brand - "

"No, they won't; they can't!" Harry gasped, as his face became more horror filled at every reason Snape ticked off. Naturally, he was right, but Harry hadn't had time to think everything through yet.

"They can, and they will," Snape continued pitilessly. "You had better accept that. But I haven't even gotten to the most telling sign. Once again, you have a choice, but I have a strong hunch about what you will choose. It is not important to decide until the beginning of the school year, though, so you need not make an immediate decision."

"What's that?" Harry asked suspiciously, a flock of butterflies not helping his nerves at all.

"Try to imagine how slavery might have worked hundreds of years ago," Snape began, in an almost storytelling voice. He leaned back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs, as he laced his fingers behind his head, demonstrating his full control of the situation. "It is quite natural that slaves should hate their masters. The bond accounts for that. Slaves would try to murder their masters during the night, when they lay in unsuspecting slumber. The response to this was to require that slaves be tied while their masters slept."

"Tied? Tied how?" Harry's voice was very quiet.

"The bond isn't fussy," Snape shrugged. "Some masters were known to be as cruel as they could be and take full advantage of all the pain they could inflict."

"And for me?" Harry whimpered.

"A leash should be sufficient, as long as you can't remove it," Snape concluded.

"Is there no other way?" Harry pleaded, sounding truly desparate.

"Other ways include giving you to someone else to tie up, or not doing it at all and then you would receive a beating every morning to pay for those hours of 'freedom.' I highly encourage you to not choose that option. You wouldn't allow your body enough time to heal, and eventually you would have to let me tie you up anyway. You won't be able to hide the situation from your classmates, even though you endure such beatings. It's rather pointless."

"Why can't I hide it?" Harry demanded quickly. "When I need time off from the beatings, I could just let you - tie me up - " he almost choked on the words " - for a few nights and then we could go back to the old regimen." His stomach twisted in anticipation of what the beatings would be like.

"That would work very nicely if you were in your upper years, perhaps sixth or seventh," Snape replied patiently. "It would certainly work if you were of age and of normal public status. In light of the fact that you are not, we must take into account that a much closer eye is kept on the younger students. Your absences would be noted and investigated. Additionally, it would be unseemly for you to spend the night with a professor without a further explanation to at least the faculty, if not the student body."

"Fine," Harry muttered, heat rising in his cheeks.

"So your choices are as follows," Snape began. "You may choose to sleep in your dorm as usual, and then I will have to punish you appropriately every morning, until you can't stand it and accept the usual humiliation of being tied up. I may instruct one of your classmates to see to the leash in your dorm. Or, you may spend your nights here, in my chambers, and I will see to it. In each scenario, the entire school will learn of the news within a week, a promise you, even the first."

"I'm strong, Professor," Harry stated defiantly. "I can take a beating every day for a week and still be fine."

"I don't doubt that," Snape assented, "but I'm sure your classmates would be intrigued by the fact that you would rush to my chambers every morning even before breakfast and then have difficulty sitting back in your desk for the rest of the day, don't you think?"

"They're all bad choices," Harry muttered.

"Yes, they are," Snape agreed casually. "Take your time deciding. I only need a response by the start of the school year. In the meantime, you will be spending your nights here and I will see to the leash."

"That makes sense," Harry agreed quietly. "There's no one to hide it from."

"My thoughts exactly," Snape conceded. "It would be worse than useless to aggravate the bond for such little gain."

"But I was able to fall asleep on your bed without any problem!" Harry objected suddenly.

"You were the one sleeping; I wasn't," Snape pointed out. "It isn't about your sleeping schedule. It's meant for my protection, from you."

"Alright," Harry murmured, eyes cast down. "Thank you, for letting me have as much say in this as you are. You could be a lot worse about it, and I realize that."

"You're welcome," Snape replied.

"I'll get back with you about the decision soon," Harry promised. "I just want to think it over for a bit."

"Understandable," Snape agreed.

"What do you think the others will say about it when they find out?"

"Purebloods are much more likely to take offense at your situation than a half-blood or a muggleborn," Snape analysed. "Purebloods have been raised with a philosophy which would be very sensitive to the social stigma of slavery, even if I am trying to keep it to as much a token slavery as I can. Some half-bloods as well, I believe, would fall in that category. Muggleborns would be much more likely to side with you and take pity on your situation; I doubt you want that either."

"No," Harry whispered. "So basically this is going to isolate me."

"It's a distinct possibility," Snape agreed quietly. "Hopefully your friends are not as superficial as all that."