Chapter 2

Severus blindly makes his way out of the hall. All that circles around in his mind concerns the boy. His sickly appearance, his growth, his lack of fire that once blazed in those famous green eyes. What happened to him? Why must I now be responsible for the insufferable brat?

Pushing past the crowds of Death Eaters, he reaches the familiar fireplace that brought him to the manor. If he is to be honest with himself, Severus's loathing towards the boy may have turned slightly. Yes, he finds having ownership over Potter to be an uninviting burden, but something within his consciousness is eager to collect the child.

The Potions Master silently passes those already in line to floo. They allow him forward, no one daring to offend one of the Dark Lord's most valued servants. As he throws the powder once more into the flames stepping in, he clears his mind. One particular thought above all the rest flashes behind those closed eyelids of his.

Home.

0o0o0

Within the dark shadows, Harry curls himself in a ball. Arms displaying large cuts and gashes pull his feeble, skinny legs tightly to his torso. He remains silent. No sound has yet left the Gryffindor since his rebel camp was destroyed, since Sirius lay dead at his feet. Any guards passing by would not notice this broken boy huddled within the darkness of the cell.

Only when Harry feels piercing eyes upon him, does he look up. Voldemort stands before him, just close enough that the bottom hem of the wizards robes lightly brush against him. The dark wizard does not make a move. He only observes the frail boy at his feet. The two enemies stare at one another as time slowly passes on. Only when footsteps can be heard coming from the corridor, does Harry drop his gaze once more upon the floor, unaware of the looming potions vial Voldemort has pulled out from beneath his robes.

0o0o0

Stepping out of the dying green flames, Severus meticulously scourgifys the ash and soot off that covers his cloak. After deeming his attire clean, he retires to his bedroom. Placing his robes back within the closet, Severus takes his folded and pressed pajamas into the adjoining master bathroom. Slate tile floor begins at the doors entrance and expands throughout the entire room. Two deep sinks inwardly dip from a thick white marble slab. Mounted on the wall above, a large mirror stretches from one end of the counter to the next.

Placing his garments on the clean marble counter, the accomplished Death Eater starts his bath. Having a recluse personality such as his own, Severus has had no desire to acquire household help. That is, until recently…particularly this past evening. Shutting the water off once the clawed bathtub has filled with the perfumed soapy liquid, Severus steps in. He slowly sinks below the surface, the warm water restricting the air from further contact with his skin. Holding his breath for as long as possible, the previous Professor pictures the one thing that all encompasses his thoughts, the boy. Like watching a film, Severus flips through one encounter with Potter to the next. Each one is brief, short, seemingly unimportant. Then, why do I suddenly care?

Lungs finally straining for oxygen, Severus breaks the surface, gulping for air. Catching his breath, he relaxes his white fleshed back against the side of the tub. Suddenly, something gains his attention…his straining member. Pulsing blood maneuvers to his pole that has long since seen the light of pleasure. He watches as it becomes more stiff, erect. Temptation consumes him. All he wants is to meet completion. With the image of Harry's face once unmarked and full of life, determination, Severus lowers his hand. The intention: to achieve release.

Stroking his erection, Severus's breath begins to quicken. He imagines the boy beneath him, calling out his name as he reaches climax. Severus's sweaty body continuously plowing into the smaller Gryffindor, their skin rubbing against one another from the shear friction of coitus.

Stop!

Just as quickly as it had started, the Death Eater pulls his hand away from his pulsing cock. What is wrong with me? He is just a boy and I, just over 20 years his senior. Grudgingly, Severus steps out of the warm tub, his member still at attention. Walking to the shower, he turns on the water and gets in. Cold streams run down his toned body. Grinding his teeth together, the Potions Master wills for his sexual need to withdraw.

0o0o0

"Ah, Severus. I take it you have come for the boy?"

Voldemort sits outside within the greenhouse. The sun beams down through the building of windows, its rays lightly kissing the skin of those present. Severus stands straight and tall in his normal fashion. His expression is one of a mystery to those who do not know the wizard well. It is tight, muscles firm that stretch his mouth into a thin line.

"Yes, my Lord. That is, if it is acceptable."

The Dark Lord smiles. His facial features twist in ways that are not meant to be wound. In fact, the friendly gesture is rather chilling. Severus holds himself together though, not allowing the shock from Voldemort's outward happiness to be noticed. Not offering his loyal follower a seat, the dark leader replies.

"Have Draco accompany you to the cellar. He will assist in bringing Potter back with you to the school, or shall I say, the ruins once considered a school."

Lightly laughing to himself, the Dark Lord turns away, lifting the Dailey Prophet back into his line of vision. Ever since The War began, Severus had by all means avoided reading the Prophet. It never felt like news to him, only pages filled with death and disaster. To him, it resembled more of a list of the dead.

Bowing slightly, Severus makes his leave. Just before he reaches the door to exit, Voldemort speaks once more.

"As I said earlier Severus, use the boy well. It may seem he is defeated, but there is no harm in breaking him in."

Giving a curt nod to his master to show he heard, the Potions Master leaves. He turns down the hall knowing full well where his Godson will be. Having been a guest within Malfoy Manor on countless occasions, Severus is acquainted with every wing that makes up the expansive estate. Taking a turn here and there, the familiar high hallways stretch far, leading him further into the depths of the manor. Reaching a door situated at the end of the second floor corridor, Severus knocks. Abruptly, the door opens revealing the young Malfoy heir.

"Good afternoon, Draco."

Looking surprised to see his Godfather at his door, Malfoy quickly shuffles out of his room, passing Severus. Flustered, he closes the large door behind him and addresses the calm and collected Potions Master.

"Why are you here?" He mutters, eyes adverted shamefully to the side.

Severus studies the boy, unsure as to what put him in such an awkward mood. He clears his throat, willing himself to remain unattached and cold.

"The Dark Lord volunteered your assistance. I am to collect the Potter boy and bring him to my quarters."

Draco's head suddenly snaps up, his eyes glinting in shock. "Uncle, what—"

Severus raises his hand to silence the blonde. Taking a step, he begins to make his way down the corridor. Malfoy wordlessly follows in his wake. They continue to the dungeons, both wizards avoiding looking at one another. After passing a large bust statue of a Malfoy ancestor, they reach the entrance leading to the cells. Taking hold of the black iron knob, Severus opens the door, allowing Draco to lead the remainder of the way. They quickly pass one cell after the next, knowing full well Potter to be placed in the isolation ward located at the end of the chamber. The two Death Eater's boots clank upon the old stone floor. The sound reverberates off the narrow passageway, stirring other prisoners to awaken. Shouts and cries begin to swarm around the two wizards in black. They however, ignore the pleas, only set on reaching their destination.

The cell door, built within the stone walls at the end of the dungeon, sits securely in place. Reaching for his wand, Draco steps forward, tracing it's tip over the doors lock. Muttering an incantation under his breath, the cell clicks open. Soundlessly, Severus pushes Draco to the side, passing the smaller wizard as he enters the room. At first, his eyes adjust to the darkness as no candles adorn the cell. After a moment of glancing around, Severus makes out a small figure curled in fetal position on the soiled floor.

"Potter?"

There is no reply. Stepping forward, the Death Eater crouches down beside the filthy Gryffindor. Waving his wand over the trembling figure, Severus checks his vitals. They are considerably weak, the boy floating between consciousness. Behind him, a quiet voice whispers, softly.

"Is he alive?"

The trusted servant ignores Malfoy's question. Casting a quick levitation charm on the feeble boy, Severus finally faces Draco once more. They exchange worried glances before curtly proceeding to leave the cell. Hurriedly, the two Death Eaters and the floating body of the Chosen One make their way out from the depths of the cold and dismal dungeon.

Reaching the fire grate, Severus hastily takes the powder and throws it into the flames. Not glancing at the floating body beside him for fear he may be sick, the older man instructs Draco. His is assertive, curt.

"I will floo to Hogwarts first and prepare my bed. In the next minute, bring Potter with you. Understood?"

Draco hesitantly nods. Wasting no further time on the matter, Severus disappears within the flames. Waiting a minute as he was instructed, Draco takes in a deep breath before levitating Potter into the flames alongside him. Voicing the quarters of his Godfather's, the two previous students of Hogwarts vanish.

None could possibly know what changes lay in store for them, all of which surround the Potter boy.