Chapter Two: In which answers are not always found and some beds are not slept in

Lilison tapped his wand against the iron manacles and they fell to the floor with a resounding crash.


"I need you to listen to me, just for a little while," Evan said, carefully watching Snape's face for any reaction, any change that would show what he might be thinking. "I'm will not harm you unless you harm me, I will not force you to do anything against your will, and I will never think of or refer to you as a posession. You will be free in this house until either I find a way to legally free you, or until the Ministry comes to their senses. Do you accept this?"

Evan felt his heart pulsing in his throat as Snape remained silent and impassive. He knew he had to remain collected, had to show the man that he was capable of controlling himself and his emotions, capable on following through, but damn, the man always made him feel like a first year who had used rose thorns when he should have used nettles. Evan pressed forwards.

"I set up the guest room for your use. Feel free to explore the house, I don't want you to feel like a prisoner here," Evan explained, memories of Aunt Petunia drilling decorum into his head before Aunt Marge's visits swirling in his mind. "I'll show you to your room."

He walked out of the parlor and into the kitchen, then up the staircase, only looking behind him once to make sure that Snape was following. Evan missed a step when he saw the faint look of uncertainty and mystification on Snape's face as he rubbed his chaffed wrists. The look was quickly replaced by Snape's normal air of disinterest and disdain when he caught Evan looking at him.

At the top of the stairs, Evan turned left and pushed the pale wooden door open, remaining just outside of the room.

Inside, there was a twin bed pushed against the right wall, next to a window. A small dresser was against the opposite wall, and there was a small door leading to a closet next to it. The room was void of any personal effects, and the sheets on the bed were creased in the manner that all new, never-been-washed sheets were.

"This will be your room as long as you are staying here. If you have the door locked, I won't come in unless it's an emergency. Your bathroom is right over this way," Evan said, leading Snape just a few steps across the hall. Evans palms were warm and damp where they pressed against his pant legs. Snape had yet to say a word, and Evan's anxiety was quickly growing. "If you'd like to take a shower now, I can lend you a spare set of robes. Do you have any changes of clothes or personal items, or did the Ministry take possession of everything?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. He took a step forward and Evan could feel Snape's breath against his face. Bitter black eyes glared into Evan's eyes.

"What are you playing at?" Snape all but spat at Evan. "Do you take me for an imbecile? I have no possessions, I have no freedom. I am a slave, a thing that the Ministry has delegated to be used at your discretion."

"It doesn't have to be that way," Evan objected, his entire body stiff in preparation for a fight. "I'm not planning on using you."

Severus turned on his heel, his battered cloak swirling around his ankles. He entered the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Dinner will be on the table in about two hours," Evan called out, a slight grin twisting at his lips. Things might actually work out better than he had hoped.


The sick twisting in the back of Severus's mind was just apprehension. It wasn't anxiety, fear, desperation.

Lilison was making less sense with every word and gesture, and Severus couldn't figure out how to best play his part.

With Voldemort, he knew to play the groveling lacky who worshipped the ground his master walked upon. The Dark Lord demanded supplication and obedience. He knew from the way Voldemort's pupils would dilate when a follower kissed the hem of his robes, from the way he would settle into his seat after being praised, from the way his index finger would caress his wand after a victim was reduced to begging.

With Dumbledore, he knew to play the part of the remorseful youth who had made a foolish decision. The Headmaster appreciated those who put others before themselves and would do anything for their friends and loved ones. He knew from the way Dumbledore's eyes would twinkle when a student would help another out of a trick step, from the way he would sit up a bit straighter when an older student would set aside their books to assist a younger year with their work, from the way his fingers would twist into his beard when friends would great each other after a long separation.

The parts that Severus played were often based in reality, but his father had taught him from a young age how to pick up on the subtle clues that revealed what others wanted and expected. This skill to become whatever he needed to be had served Severus well, but he couldn't seem to decipher Lilison's cues.

The man's tense shoulders suggested unease, yet his actions suggested confidence. His constantly moving hands suggested anxiety, but his eyes were calm. His tone was constantly changing from gentle to angry, from uncertain to lively.

In short, the man was either suffering from a severe lack of sanity, or he was playing Severus for a fool.

Severus had yet to decide which option he preferred.

He slowly removed his robes and underclothes, wincing as pain spiked along his back. He folded the tattered garments carefully and set them on the small counter attached to the sink. He looked up briefly, and the mirror in front of him reflected a sunken in face attacked to an awkwardly thin, dirt and scar covered body. He turned away, pulled aside the curtain to the shower, and turned on the water, just short of scalding.

The dirt and grime fell away quickly, leaving Severus with a strangely exposed feeling. The soap smelled of citrus and the shampoo of chamomile. They both caused the welts on his back and sides to throb.

Barely five minutes later, Severus was stepping out of the shower, grabbing the only towel on the rack. He wrapped it around his waist and took a dismissive look at his ruined robes. He would walk around naked before putting the soiled garments back on. Let Lilison take that as he will. He reached for the door and pulled it open, only to see Lilison with his hand raised to knock standing on the other side. The man had a bundle of clothes in his other hand, and his mouth was open as he focused on something behind Severus.

Severus turned his head slightly to see the mirror behind him reflecting the raised scrapes and welts along his back. The soap had caused the area to appear red and inflamed. Poor living conditions and little to no care since the injuries occurred caused the area to appear infected.

Lilison shoved the clothes he had been holding into Severus's arms and ran off with a mumbled "stay here."

Severus ignored him and walked across the hall to the bedroom.

Not a minute later, Lilison came thundering up the stairs with a small pot in his hand. He paused in the doorway before walking into the room after Severus.

"Sit down on the bed with your back to me," ordered Lilison.

"And if I refuse?"

"Please?" Lilison's hands fumbled with the lid of the pot, prying it open.

The strong smell of dittany and tea-tree oil reached Severus's nose. It was the stinging of his back that compelled Severus to sit, not the halfway apologetic, halfway pleading look in Lilison's eyes. The look was no doubt affected.

"Hand me the salve," Severus commanded, his back ramrod straight.

"You won't be able to reach all of your back," Lilison countered.

"And if I refuse to let you touch me?"

"Your back is injured. The smart thing to do is let me treat it for you so that you can be back in fighting shape sooner. An injury is a weakness. Letting an injury go untreated is foolishness. You are not weak, and you are not a fool. Are you?" Lilison's eyes were alight with a challenge.

"Place your wand on the dresser first."

Severus's eyes widened slightly as Lilison obeyed and set his wand down before moving to kneel by the bed.

"Back to me," said Lilison, his mouth set into a tight line.

Severus turned slightly, showing Lilison his back while never breaking eye contact.

The salve was cold and thick against his back, and Lilison's fingers felt uncomfortably oppressive. Severus had to move, had to get away from those fingers, from touch, no one was supposed to touch him, no one was supposed to…

"Are you alright?"

Severus returned to reality with a start and leveled Lilison with his worst glare. "Of course I'm not alright you dim-witted idiot. If I were alright, I wouldn't be a slave, I wouldn't have these damned cuts on my back. If I were alright, I wouldn't have some slow imbecile asking me inane questions, and…" Severus's rant was cut short by a snort from Lilison, followed by a chuckle, then full out laughter.

"What are you laughing about you brainless, ignorant, troglodyte!"

"My name is Evan not idiot, not brainless, and not trogidite or whatever it was that you called me. I'm sorry if I insulted you, but you remind me very much of someone I used to know."

The fingers, still shaking from laughter, spread the healing salve across Severus's back.

"I couldn't care less if your name was Mary, Queen of Scots."

"You won't call me by my name then?"

Severus clenched his teeth and remained silent as the fingers passed over a particularly irritated area.

"My middle name is Harold. You could call me Harry," cajoled Lilison, "or you could call me by my last name."

"I will call you whatever I bloody well wish too." Severus's nails were digging into his thighs as the fingers pressed and pressed and pressed.

"You're much bolder when I don't have my wand."

Severus tensed.

"I'm not going to hurt you, you know that, right?"

"I don't know the slightest thing about you," Severus retorted.

The fingers stilled, and then left Severus's back.

"You'll just have to try to get to know me then. We're probably going to be stuck with each other until the Ministry repeals the Eradication of Dangerous Criminals Act. Dinner will be downstairs in an hour or so. If you aren't there, I'll have to come looking for you." Lilison stood up, grabbed his wand off of the dresser, and left the room, pulling the door closed behind him.


Albus Dumbledore had a million and one concerns, and not a single solution. Since Voldemort's defeat roughly half a year ago, he had slept about three hours a night. He only remained on his feet through willpower and copious amounts of pepper-up potion.

Currently, Dumbledore was seated at his desk in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts, his head resting wearily in his hands. He was only one hundred years old, but on days like this one had been, he felt one hundred going on ancient.

There were guilty Death Eaters still at large, innocents in prison, dark wizards vying for the position of Dark Lord, order members who were left without anywhere to go, bills to read before they reached the Wizengamot, and the list went on. Sometimes it was all just too much.

And Severus, poor little Severus Snape, sold just a few hours earlier. Albus was against the selling of any man, but he had promised Severus that he would be safe. Albus had promised Severus that after the war ended, Severus would be free; that he would be able to finally live his life the way he wanted to. Albus had promised Severus something that the boy had never known, something that was an inherent right of any man, and Albus had failed spectacularly.

Albus picked up a glass ornament and pulled his arm back, ready to hurl it across the room, but Fawks trilled soft and low, and Albus put the ornament back down on the desk with a sigh.

"I don't know where to go from here old friend," Albus murmered, his voice barely louder than a weary whisper.

Fawks ruffled his feathers and let out a chirp before flying from his perch to the corner of the desk. He let out a whistle that started out low and climbed high and clear.

"I suppose the only direction I can go is forwards. I only hope that forwards is not a circular path."

Albus stood up and walked over to the fireplace.

"Thank you for your help Fawks. You always know what to say to get an old man moving again."

Albus threw a handful of floo powder into the fire and shouted "Ministry of Magic".


The sound of Lilison's fork scraping against the plate made the hairs on the back of Severus's neck stand on end. His own fork sat untouched on the table, his hand's neatly folded in his lap.

"I didn't poison it," Lilison grumbled, placing his fork down with a clatter. "Are you planning on starving yourself to death?"

"There are dozens of poisons that are colorless, odorless, and tasteless that can be prepared in an hour."

"I'm eating from the same serving dish that you are."

"Out of those poisons, there are a handful that one can become immune to by ingesting small amounts over a long period of time."

"Look Snape, if I wanted to kill you, there would be easier ways to do it than to whip up a poison and add it to the Sheppard's pie that I spent a good part of an hour making."

Severus made a show of picking up his fork before putting it down again. "You made this? Then I suppose I should be concerned about food poisoning instead."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"I assure you that I have no intention of playing the part of a jester, and furthermore…"

"It was! You made a joke!"

"I did no such thing. Do us both a favor and refrain from demonstrating your lack of intelligence any further. In your case, that would include remaining silent." Severus picked up his fork and took a small bite of his dinner, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Lilison snorted and picked up his plate, depositing it in the sink.

His wand sat on the countertop near the pantry, far out of reach.


Midnight found Evan lying in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, sleep eluding him. Dinner had gone better than he had hoped, but the minute he picked his wand up, Snape became tense and blank. Put the wand down, Snape was his regular smarmy self, just a couple decades younger than Evan remembered him. Pick the wand up, Snape was a stone-faced golem, ready to react to the smallest perceived threat. It was nothing short of exasperating. Intellectually, Evan knew it was much too soon to expect Snape to trust him. Evan had six, almost seven years of memories that included Snape, but this younger version of the man didn't know him. Evan knew this, but it still caused his head to pound and his stomach to churn whenever Snape tensed up, as though expecting Evan to begin beating on him at any moment.

It was a comfort, however, to see the snarky side of Snape. It was the only true reminder of home, his old home, that he had come across so far. Wherever the disaster at the ministry had taken him, it wasn't the linear past.

For one thing, the Death Eaters had never been auctioned off in Evan's past.

For another thing, Lilly and James Potter were still alive. Harry Potter was still the vanquisher of Voldemort, but Harry Potter had not survived the encounter.

The thought that he was no longer in his own world made Evan's heart beat just a little bit faster as adrenalin spiked through his system.

Evan was still looking for differences between this world and the one he had known, but it was a comfort to know that, whatever world he was in, he could count on Snape to be a defiant bastard who wielded his words just as well as he did a wand.

Evan blinked slowly and let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Maybe it was time that he got some rest. He scratched his chest absentmindedly and rolled onto his side. He was asleep within minutes.


Severus stood stiffly in the corner of his room; his back to the wall, gazing intently at the closed door. He had been too relaxed, too daring, and he was now waiting for the other shoe to drop.

His eyes were heavy, and the bed offered a mighty temptation, but Severus would not give in. He would be awake and prepared when Lilison stormed into the room in the middle of the night, wand drawn and ready to do harm. Lilison had played nice all day, but just as Severus prepared to sleep, the anxieties that had built up came crashing down upon him.

There was not a single person in the world who would spend 2,000 galleons on a criminal, just to provide for them and give them comfort.

There was not a single person who would give protection and not expect repayment.

There was not a single person who would allow someone that they owned to insult them and then just laugh it off.

No, the more rational reason for Lilison's behavior was to lure Severus into thinking that he was safe; to show Severus a chance of what could exist for him and then smash it to pieces.

Severus wasn't going to fall for it.

His father had taught him all too well. He had learned not through words but through experience.

He could at least catch Lilison by surprise by being awake when the man came to destroy him. Severus didn't have a wand, but he was smart, he was resourceful, he was desperate and backed into a corner.

Lilison would learn not to play mind games against a master.

Severus felt his eyes drooping closed and shook himself to wake back up. It was going to be a very long night.


Richards was having a very bad day. He would consider himself lucky if he could string together a simple sentence. "S-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-sir, I-I c-c-c-c-, i-i-it's ag-g-g-g-ain-gainst p-p-p-p…"

"You can and you will give me the man's name and address."

In Richards' defense, Albus Dumbledore could be a very intimidating man. Raw magic flowed off the graying wizard in waves. Richards had never been a very brave man to begin with. His hands were trembling so badly that his shoulders and torso had joined in.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-sir, I-I-I…"

Blue eyes as hard and as cold as never-melt ice stared down unyieldingly.

"Li-li-lilison," Richards gulped. "E-e-e-e-ev-evan Li-li-li-lilison. H-h-he li-li, er, lives at D-d-d-daisy or D-d-d-d-daff-daff-daffodil or D-d-d-d-dandy-dandelion Pl-pl-pl…"

"Thank you for your assistance. You all will be hearing from me again in the future."

Richards sunk to his knees; his legs feeling like the bones had been vanished. Sweat soaked his narrow frame and dripped off of his nose. He wondered if it was too early to retire or too late to change careers.


Authors Note: Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you think so far. If you want more information about the salve, check my profile.