Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter Ten
"My Pain, Your Pleasure"

"You're to cook it properly," Mering emphasised. "Our guest likes steak done medium-rare, and if not done right..."

Severus just nodded, tuning him out as he looked at the floor. His feet were finally properly clean.

Mering had been going on for three days about a special guest that he was having over, likely the colleague he had gone to meet the day of the Patronus incident. Mering had wanted everything to be just perfect, it seemed. Even Severus. He had provided the soap and such for Severus to clean himself with, and had even given Severus a perfectly clean cloth to wear. That alone silently taunted Severus; he was so pleased to be clean, to be wearing clean clothes, that it tortured him. He knew that it was his right as a human being to be clean, and that what he was wearing around his waist hardly constituted clothing... yet, in the back of his mind, he was pleased.

Mering continued to drone on, with Severus only half-listening. He understood perfectly what was expected of him. He was to use the supplies Mering provided him to cook a fine meal for Mering and his mystery guest. Severus would be allowed to join them (kneeling beside Mering, of course). The excitement that brought Severus put another pit into his stomach. He was looking forward to the prospect of kneeling beside someone, eating food out of their hands or even worse, off the floor when Mering felt too lazy to actually hold onto the scrap. But Severus could not deny that he was. He had missed so many meals that having the promise of one was terrific.

Perhaps this guest is someone from the Ministry, Severus thought, his mind racing. Perhaps it is Shacklebolt!That would be an important guest that Mering would want to please. Surely it is someone coming to help me. Severus had become absolutely sure of that from the moment he found out about the special guest. It only made sense, as Mering was really looking forward to the guest coming and Mering was very much a fan of the Ministry. Surely the guest really had alternative motives for coming, such seeing to Severus' rescue.

In a few hours, I will be in my quarters at Hogwarts, never to take another order from Mering again.

Severus gripped the wand Mering had returned to him. His wand. One thing that had also made him happy over the past week was the continued allowance of Severus using his wand. When he behaved, he got to use his wand more often. It was quite the godsend for making meals, and when Mering was not looking, Severus was able to employ a few cleaning spells on himself and his surroundings. To not have to manually scrub the kitchen floor again would be wonderful.

He is breaking you,a voice in his head reminded him. His goal is to make you happy in your position. Remember what he told the Auror, that within a month, he would have you begging to serve people?

I do not beg for anything.He argued.Is it so wrong for me to accept that there is nothing I can do to escape? The windows and doors are locked securely. If I try to change into raven-form, the collar now changes size with me and weighs me down so I cannot fly. I cannot Apparate without making noise and even if I could, the Ministry would receive notice. I am not giving up; I am merely biding my time.

Severus had discovered a lot over the past week. Since going to Hogsmeade, he had employed certain tactics. Saying things around Mering such as "I could Apparate there and back for you; it would make things much easier for you" led Mering to believe Severus was far more "broken" than he was. It also gave Severus the chance to learn of his disadvantages. For example, he know knew that a slave had to be cleared by the owner to Apparate and until they were, it was illegal to do so. It was rather like a sensor, not unlike the one for under-age magic. Severus had a feeling that Mering did not mean for all the information to slip that did, but Severus was grateful for the way he got the information. The Slytherin way. He was not at all broken. A slave would not manoeuvre around their master like Severus did Mering.

Regardless of a permanent spell, and the fact that Severus would always have to be legally owned by someone, he was still hopeful. Surely someone from the Order would purchase him and let him simply move on with his life. They would not expect him to serve anyone or anything. They might expect a refund for the amount of Galleons they spent on him, but Severus could pay them back someday. As a Potions master at Hogwarts, he was not significantly wealthy, but neither was he poor. He was not a materialistic person, so had plenty in his vault at Gringotts... not that the Ministry hadn't taken every last knut for "damages" from the War. It would not take him long to save enough Galleons to pay someone back, however.

How much does a slave cost? It must be a substantial amount, as usually only the wealthy own slaves. Surely someone in the Order has that much. Arthur and Molly received an award from the Ministry that would allow Arthur to quit his job...He was not normally willing to accept charity, but he had pulled the Weasleys out of many grim situations. He expected something in return.

And of course Potter has his hero-complex. He could afford to-he grimaced. He would rather die than be rescued by Harry Potter again. It was simply too humiliating. James was probably laughing about it, wherever he was.

The doorbell rang. "Get that, slave!" Mering called from upstairs.

With a flourish of his wand, Severus performed the spell that would properly cook the meat before heading to the front door. Mering often alternated between "Snape" and "slave" as forms of address for Severus. Severus was perfectly aware why he did that; Mering did not see Severus as a human, so he was undeserving of a name. On top of that, being constantly reminded of his status would only aid in breaking Severus. Severus had ignored Mering when he called him "slave" the first few days, but quickly found it not worth it. A painful spell that involved boiling boils had taught him that is wasn't worth it.

Severus opened the door to a woman in her fifties or older. Her bright red hair looked to be unnatural, especially for a woman of her age. She wore far too much make-up. Her frame was on the larger side. Her eyes looked to be almost lavender – Severus was not sure if that was a spell, the light, or the woman's make-up, but the colour was definitely not natural. She wore extravagant tortoise sequinned robes that glittered in the setting sun. The impression she gave was not a comforting one; she was clearly manipulative, calculative, shrewd. Whilst Severus endorsed those characteristics in Slytherin, they were not supposed to emanate as an aura. People who had a manipulative aura about them were up to no good, end of discussion.

Severus swallowed the bile that built in his throat in the split second it took to analyse and pass judgement on the woman. His years as a spy and in Slytherin made any extra time unnecessary. "Come in, miss," he said, stepping back and bowing his head as she entered.

Why is it, that after making such a big deal that I behave properly in front of her, that Mering did not teach me how to answer the door? Severus would have done that first thing. First-impressions were generally everything.

"Where's Nigel?" She snapped at Severus, who shut the door behind her.

"Upstairs, miss. He should be down shortly." Be polite, be polite... how do you politely invite someone into your home?Severus rarely had company and when he did, he rarely took the pains to be politic. "May I offer you something to drink? Dinner will be ready shortly."

She looked at him critically. Severus tried not to show his discomfort as he felt her lavender eyes appraise him. He resisted the urge to snap at her or use Legilimency. Surely whatever the woman was here for, it would not prove beneficial to him. Perhaps she was someone from Henderson's? Or worse, someone from the Ministry that would be intent on making him more miserable? The Ministry had a tendency to do that to him.

"A glass of water," she said shortly.

Severus nodded. "In a moment, miss."

He made a mad dash for the kitchen, glad to get away from her critical eyes. He checked on supper as he filled a glass with water, chilling it with a quick spell. The spell he had on the meat was still ongoing, as was the spell mashing the potatoes. He would need to supervise the rest of the food soon. Even with magic, he was proving to not be a very talented cook. It was not much like potions.

Mering had better be pleased,he tried to ignore the worried feeling in his stomach that Mering might not be. A failed meal would not be working Severus any favours; impressing the woman seemed to be important to Mering, and if Severus failed, punishment would definitely be in order.

He delivered the glass of water to her wordlessly.

"You're here!" Mering exclaimed, coming down the stairs much faster than he did whenever Severus was dreading his presence.

Severus silently excused himself back to the kitchen as Mering kissed the woman on the cheek and sat down with her on the sofa. Unfortunately, the kitchen and the living room were very well connected, without a wall separating them, and he could hear every word spoken. Rumour at Hogwarts had it that Severus could hear an extra screwt eyeball land in a cauldron from one hundred paces; it was barely a stretch of the truth.

"Your new slave has been trained well," the woman commented.

Severus gritted his teeth at that as he cut the ends off the asparagus. He was not trained at all. He was simply biding his time.

"He is," Mering agreed. "He is still very stubborn though, and has a streak of sarcasm. I'll have the stubbornness beat out of him in another week though."

As if I am a potion he is brewing, Severus set two plates on the table, one at each end. 'Oh, I'll just not put in this ingredient for the time being'. As if he could control- I am not stubborn. I merely refuse to obey his every word.

"Is he aware of why I'm here?" The woman inquired.

Mering chuckled, a chuckle that always put fear in Severus' heart. It was a sadistic, evil chuckle. The chuckle Mering always had right before a beating or other punishment, or whenever Severus did something wrong he would later be punished for. It was an amused chuckle, but a frightening one for Severus. "Of course he doesn't know. Why would I tell him? I never tell any of my slaves. And he can hear you, so please mind what you say."

Severus looked down at the counter, furiously cooking the vegetable. Of course Mering had to know he was listening! Why did he always have to act like Severus was so predictable? That was another thing Severus hated about Mering. He was creating a list in his head – so far, he had three hundred forty-three things he hated about Nigel Mering. The fact that he treated Severus like a five-year-old sometimes would be three hundred forty-four.

She is certainly not here to help you. He placed the platter of steak on the table, the bowl of potatoes floating next to him until he could place it next to the steak. He summoned a spoon to serve them with and pushed it into the potatoes before setting the bowl on the table.Do not further delude yourself thinking that she is. She is here for something that has to do with me... probably to determine me ready to sell.

Well, if that were the case, he had to prove himself ready. Another day in Mering's company and he might have to find out whether it was possible to Avada Kedavrahimself. Severus did not take that thought lightly; he had considered it seriously several times in his thirty-eight years, often times the only deterrent from it being defeat. Killing himself would say he was weak, that he could not handle life. And he could, even if he had to suffer living to prove it.

He stepped into the living room, his eyes to his feet, as much as he wished to glare at Mering and his company. "Dinner is ready," he announced.

I wish I were a house-elf. At least they get surge of pride when they make such announcements.

The Hufflepuffs I taught in 1985. Name all the Hufflepuffs from 1985. Barbara Kissinger, Lucas Treadaway... It was not easy, but reciting useless information such as that were the only distractions that could save Severus. By focusing his concentration on something he had long forgotten, or did not think about on a regular basis, he was able to perform whatever tasks he was given.

Sometimes eating could be a task all of its own.

Severus forced himself to swallow the wad of fat Mering had given him. If he refused to eat it, he wouldn't be given anything else, and Severus knew he had to eat. He could not afford to refuse anything. He was already not consuming enough as it was.

"She asked me if I liked it!" The woman at the table shrieked, her mouth full of potatoes. "Can you imagine, Nigel?"

Ten points from you for talking with your mouth full, Severus wanted to say.

"I honestly can't," Mering said. "Snape, hand me the wand."

My wand.He hated how Mering refused to call it "your wand".

Severus looked at the wand in his hands, suffering the inward battle he always did when handing it over. He knew it was because Mering did not trust him with it for long periods of time, and that he was not likely to be punished for anything if he handed it over without complaint. It still bothered him, though. It bothered him to hand over what could be his salvation were he idiotic enough to try to Apparate or otherwise disappear with it.

He handed the wand over, suddenly not trusting himself. If left alone too long with it, he very well could get it into his head to Apparate away. And that would only bring the Ministry further into the mess. He would also have to spend even longer at Mering's, which he needed to avoid if he wanted to escape the experience with his mind intact.

"Go upstairs. The second room on the left. I need to speak with Medusa alone."

"Yes, Master." Severus got up in one fluid motion and crossed the kitchen, through the living room, and to the stairs.

Medusa. He chuckled to himself. It would make sense, that. Medusa was the name of a vain witch who was cursed, and had her hair turn into snakes. An evil, manipulative woman.

He began to tentatively climb the stairs, shooting cautious looks towards the direction of the kitchen.

Once upstairs, he stopped outside the first doorway, which was on his left. He peered in – it was an empty room. Though dark, he could see from the light in the hall that the floor and walls were stained in a rusty brown.

He was certain it was blood.

Do not let yourself wonder what happened in there.Severus was no stranger to painful and bizarre forms of torture – the Dark Lord was as evil and sadistic as people came – but now he was in the position of having to dread it happening to him, instead of merely witnessing it. It made the entire experience quite different.

The second room on the left was properly lit. The walls were painted white, the hardwood floor scratched, but clean. There was a single double-hung window directly across from the doorway and between that and the left wall, a simple double four-poster bed, not unlike the one Severus had slept in at Hogwarts. There was a simple dresser to the right, and a bedside table below the window. Upon further examination, Severus found that the room had both a walk-in wardrobe and a loo.

Did he say 'the second door to the left'? I am sure he did. Surely Mering would not send Severus into a comfortable room just to get out of his way? Perhaps he meant to send Severus into the first room on the left – but there had to be purpose for getting sent upstairs, otherwise he would have just sent Severus to the basement.

He got a cold feeling in his stomach that he desperately tried to ignore.

He peered out the window. He could see the family in the house across the street gathered in the living room, playing a game while laughing.

He felt his stomach twist involuntarily. Had things gone differently, what were the odds that that could have been him? What went wrong, exactly, to cause that to happen? He had long ago accepted that there was nothing he could have made Lily done to return his affection. Was his mistake continuing to pine over her as they grew older? Was it pledging his allegiance to the Dark Lord? He wished he could define a single moment; it would be so tempting to obtain a time-turner and go back, if he knew that he could have that same sort of happiness.

Not that he wanted children, or a spouse. He liked few people, and it was extremely difficult to earn his trust. He would be lying, however, if he said that he was no lonely. He had never had a family of any sort. Now he never would.

You are rambling. In your own head. Severus could not stand people who rambled. You will spend the next two hundred years alone, which should be fine. You cannot miss what you never have had.

"Hem-hem." He heard someone cough behind him.

He whirled around, eyes wide, expecting to see Dolores Umbridge behind him. The last thing he needed to see was that woman, that monstrous, nauseating, vile, priggish woman. He had spent a year in hell with her already, three years ago. But no, it was not her signature fake cough. It was Mering's guest, Medusa.

"A bit on edge, I see," she said in an overly sweet voice, like sugar mixed thick with honey.

He took a step backwards against the window, not lowering his eyes to the floor like he knew he should.

"Can I help you, miss?" He asked coldly, his standard monotone seeping in. He had tried to be less himself around Mering and company, but slipped when startled.

"Oh, no; I'm fine." She gave an overly fake sigh as she stood in the doorway, her hands on her stomach. Very Umbridge-like.

"Ah... if you and Master are indeed through eating, I shall go clear the table-" He started past her, but she did not give him room to pass.

"Oh, Nigel already took care of that. A flick of the wand and it is finished, you know." She paused. "Actually, Nigel already left. He had to go to Italy to remind a client's slave of his place."

Severus never thought he would find himself wishing for Mering to be there. "Ah... am I to presume that you are here to train me in his stead? To be the one to shackle me in the basement, to... ah, punish me as you deem fit?" He hoped not. Umbridge had had cruel methods of punishment, and he could only imagine that this Medusa woman would be much worse. He would not submit to her punishments. He refused to be whipped and beat by her. He only let Mering punish him because Mering was legally his owner and if he attacked, he would die, which would be defeat. Medusa was not his owner; if he wanted, he could break her neck and...

...and inevitably suffer the consequences when he comes home.

She smiled. A smile, like Mering's chuckle, that went against the normal emotions a smile conveyed. Her smile showed malicious intent. "I am not going to shackle you in the basement, you silly slave."

'I am not going to shackle you in the basement',his Slytherin mind read between the lines. "Where are you going to shackle me?"

She raised a brow. "Nowhere, if you behave." She pulled out a wand which, like Umbridge's, was remarkably short, no longer than seven or eight inches. A flick of the wand and heavy eggplant coloured curtains appeared on the window, covering the window so that they could not see out and no one could see in.

Severus just stared at her, his eyes glittering of coldness and malevolence.

She stared back, her eyes invoking ill will.

Just probe a little. Just enough to get a sense of what she wants, but not enough for her to realise what you're doing.He entered her mind, fearful of what he might find, but before he could even get his bearings in the woman's mind, she slapped him, causing him to lose all concentration.

"If you were supposed to use Legilimency on your superiors, someone would have told you so." She snapped.

Severus shot her a look of pure venom. "And what makes you think I have the skills to use Legilimency? Quite plainly, I-"

"Oh please. You served He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. Of course you can use Legilimency. Now, slave, we can do this the easy way or the hard way." She took a step forward, waved her wand and the doorway disappeared behind her, leaving no way out.

Severus backed up again. It did not take an Order of Merlin (which he had very well deserved) to start to piece together the woman's intent. It would, however, take quite a bit of manoeuvring to escape. "When will Master be back?"

Medusa stepped up to him. He backed up so quickly that he knocked himself into the bedside table and still, there was not enough space between them.

She was getting closer... he felt a surge of magic rush through him that he had not felt since he was a child. He took deep breaths and closed his eyes tightly. He would not perform accidental magic, he would not. That would only end up disastrous at best.

"I'm not going to hurt you if you behave," she cooed, tracing his prominent cheekbones with a dry, scaly hand.

You're going to hurt me regardless of what I do. I cannot win. I might as well postpone it."Perhaps Master will come back from Italy earlier than expected," he tried, easing his way down the wall, away from the woman.

She laughed, a high-pitched squeal, really. "Do not think you can slip and slide your way out of this one, slave. I come from a long line of Slytherins, and spent years getting paid by rich people for the service you will be getting, free to you, tonight."

His heart began to beat faster. "You were in Slytherin? What years did you attend Hogwarts?" Distract her. Do anything to distract her.

"Does it matter? I left school and began working the streets in fifth year. Evading, are we?" She gripped his left wrist. "Come, slave."

Resist. But do it subtly; it will do you no good to resist so forcefully.He abandoned the urge to grip onto the wall or window and numbly followed her back to the centre of the bedroom.

"You left school in fifth year." He had to keep her mind off the task at hand. "It must have been hard." He thought of the people standing in the dark streets, striking deals with the lonely but wealthy. Those people looked like they had very hard lives.

She shrugged. "You survive. I wound up making a deal with Nigel many years ago, just as I left my prime. I break his slaves, I get some of the profit. Come now, you're a man; you ought enjoy this. Permission for the first time in weeks to feel some release." She reached underneath his loincloth.

Severus leapt away, unable to hide how shaken he was. "Let us not and say we did," he argued as she tried to tug him to the bed. He kept his feet firmly planted on the hardwood floor. "That way you still will get paid and I..." He leaned forward to speak in a low voice, "Master deemed it suiting to punish me by covering certain parts of me with painful blisters, if you catch my meaning."

Her eyes narrowed. "Let me see."

"I'd rather you didn't." He stepped backwards, gripping his hands firmly on the cloth he wore. "It is rather humiliating and I dare say I've suffered enough. If on the off-chance I am sold for pleasure purposes, I assure you, miss, I know how to make people happy."

Actually, I haven't a clue, but please do not try to teach me.He had lost his virginity at nineteen after a one-night stand with someone whose name he could not quite recall. Any sex he had had since then had been equally as meaningless. He did not form emotional attachments to people, and once he began working for Dumbledore, it became dangerous to put himself in compromising situations. The physical sensation was something he could achieve on his own, thank you very much.

She nodded. "Thank you for sharing, but on the matter of getting sold, half of the purpose of engaging in this act with you is to promote obedience." She brandished her wand. "Now disrobe or I might feel the need to increase the amount of blisters that you have."

He swallowed. "Please, miss, I will do anything else. Anything." Do not beg. This is tremendously close to begging.

She shook her head. "I will not use a disrobing spell on you, slave. You will obey me if it takes a week of orders and Cruciatus."

You cannot use an Unforgivable on me. You are not my owner. He did not bother to remind her of that fact though. Unforgiveables were not traceable, and Mering probably would not care if she used the Unforgiveables on Severus.

He did not know what else to say. He would not beg, he would not suffer the Cruciatus yet again, and he would not get in bed with that woman.

She stepped very close to him, running her hands down his arms, neck and torso. "Loosen up," she whispered into his ear. "You're supposed to concentrate on making this pleasurable for me, nothing else."

I would not even begin to know how. He had few memories of the times he had had sex, and the ones he did have involved him being drunk, awkward, and clumsy. He supposed that he would have learned how to make the women he slept with more satisfied had he cared enough about them. That could clearly be attributed to his lack of emotional maturity, and his selfishness, at that time in his life.

He took a step back. "Surely we can negotiate-"

"No negotiating," she said, gripping his wrist forcefully. She reached for the knot that tied his cloth and when she touched it, shrieked and jumped back.

"What did you do?" Medusa screeched at him.

He blanched involuntarily. "I do not know, miss. I would call that 'accidental magic'."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "'Accidental magic', Merlin's foot! People outgrow accidental magic as children!"

"But perhaps it comes back at times of need," he suggested, not able to help but feel relief now that she was at the opposite end of the room.

"Disrobe," she said icily, "or you will reap the consequences. A beating that will tear up body parts you did not know you even had."

It is hopeless. You are at the mercy of Mering, of this woman... of the entire world. Shacklebolt, Minerva, the Order... it has been two weeks. They are letting it come to this. Are they never coming? He was starting to doubt they ever would. Perhaps they were glad the cynical, greasy-haired Potions Master was gone. He had served his purpose as Dumbledore's spy, Dumbledore's murderer, protector of both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy... no one needed him any longer. People always abandoned him after they had exhausted his uses. He was as good as dead to them.

Hands shaking, Severus' long thin fingers began to fumble at the knot in the cloth. He had tied it tightly in the first place for good reason. Once untied, he took a quiet deep breath and put it over the bedside table. He then turned back to face Medusa, his eyes full of defiance and anger. He buried the fear and anxiety deep within him, refusing to let it show.

"Tsk, tsk," she said, surveying him. "Do you realise how many slaves I have had try to lie their way out of this?"

"Surely you cannot blame them for it," Severus said evenly. The sight of the woman burned his eyes; he doubted the experience would be any less horrible if she were easier on the eyes but that said, who was he to talk?

She stepped close to him. It took everything Severus had not to flinch at her touch. "Just lie back and think of England," she whispered. "Make this as pleasurable as you can and I might not find it necessary to punish you..."

Images flashed through Severus' mind as he tried to remove her robes. The first time he saw the Hogwarts Express. Smirking with Lily behind Slughorn's back. Sitting against her and talking of dreams under a tall oak tree. The day he called her a "mudblood". The day he first saw her snogging Potter. When he found out he was responsible for her death. When Nagini was about to bite him and he thought all was lost... he had gone through so much, and this was how he was repaid? Why couldn't Potter have just let Nagini kill him? He would have died then and been pain-free. But no, Potter and his hero-complex... he was too wrapped up in his memories to focus on the task at hand, which Medusa obviously noticed.

"You have never done this before, have you?" She smirked, her now unclothed body reminding Severus of just how cruel fate was. Why was it that James Potter got Lily and Severus was left pleasuring people with no way out?

Medusa was right. His limited experience has occurred so long ago that he was starting over. He was not an idiot. He fully understood the mechanics of the act. But how it was done to be pleasurable for women, he was not quite certain. Everything had made sense in the fantasies he had had when he was younger, but when the time actually came...

"Just don't think," she told him, pushing him gently onto the bed.

Do not think. Occlude. Forget where you are, what you are doing and just act on impulses. That was easier said than done for a Slytherin – forgetting yourself and acting on impulses was for Gryffindors – but he would.

That would be the only way he'd survive that night.

Coming Up Next in Unwell...
Chapter Eleven: What Is the Use?