Disclaimer: I do not own Severus Snape or Harry Potter, nor many of the characters mentioned. I do not own ninety-eight percent of past events mentioned in this story. I am not JK Rowling or her ilk. Please contact me before using any characters not seen or mentioned in JK Rowling's Harry Potterseries. Thanks you.
Chapter Fifty-Three
"Master has a Friend"
Harry ran the comb from the crown of Severus' head to the ends of his hair. It was just as thin and lank as it had been for the past eight years, but it wasn't overly greasy, and thanks to the nutritive potion, was even rather shiny.
In other words, it wasn't disgusting, like Snape's had been.
"Master, may I ask you a question?" Severus asked. He was kneeling on the bathroom floor.
You just did. "Yeah."
Severus was silent a moment. "Will you be purchasing another owl? To deliver your mail, master?"
Harry began to tie Severus' long hair back. "I'm not sure. If owls dislike you ask much as you say they do, I don't want one around. I can always go to the post office, or-" He stopped.
Severus was not ready to deliver mail. Harry wanted Severus to fly as something fun, not because he was serving 'master'. He didn't know how well Severus could fly – he never looked too comfortable on a broomstick, from Harry's memories. And what if his slavery affected his Animagus? What if he had a panic attack as a raven and could not calm himself to transfigure back (then what if Teddy transformed to a fish and got stuck? Harry's have a bird and a fish, instead of a family)? What if it did more harm than good? Without knowing anything about Animagi, he didn't know the risks. And without a therapist to turn to who was supposed to know things about brains, Harry was flying by the seat of his trousers, and was therefore being extra careful.
"Maybe when you're feeling better, we can try letting you be... what's your Animagus named"
"Named, Master? I apologise – I do not understand. Please-"
"It's okay. No punishment. Did you name your Animagus form?"
Harry could only see part of Severus' face from where he sat on the lid of the toilet, but it seemed to have a look of bewilderment on it.
"No, sir – shall I?" Severus answered, unsurely.
"No, no. No reason to, I mean. I just asked because my dad and Sirius, and- no, never mind. I was just saying that one day – maybe – you could deliver the mail if you wanted to. Would you? Like that, I mean?"
He stood up, causing Severus to follow suit, consequently nearly falling over in the small bathroom.
"Yes, sir!" Severus' eyes lit up as he steadied himself on the towel rack.
Harry eyed Teddy in his playpen, from the doorway. "Why? Why would you want to?"
"To please my master, sir."
"Is there any other reason?" Harry asked. "Do you like delivering mail?"
Severus looked almost guilty. "I enjoy flying, sir."
Harry smiled at him. "Then give me a few more weeks, and we'll see. Do you want to set the table for me? For me, you, Teddy, and Angela? I'm going to try to put Teddy down – he's so cranky, lately."
"Yes, Master."
Harry had kept in touch with the girl he had met at the pub a few weeks ago. They had written letters, Firecalled late at night, and a few times she had even stepped through – once Teddy and Severus were both sound asleep, of course. She was nice, and admitted that she usually dressed fairly conservatively – it was only when she dressed up at night, when she went out, that she liked to play it up. Harry knew girls liked to dress special when they went out – that didn't mean they were sluts, he was pretty sure. He personally thought Angela had gone a little far in not wearing knickers, but he supposed she was embarrassed enough by the incident, and probably didn't need told.
It was nice being able to talk to her because with her, he didn't feel like he was missing to terribly much. Whenever he spoke to Ron (who was usually exhausted and more often that not not home due to the Auror Training Programme), he usually felt a bit envious of Ron's life – not for the first time in the past many years. Hermione had overwhelmed herself with her Cambridge classes, as to be expected, and had little time to talk. Neville was apprenticing Goldilocks at Goldilocks' Nursery, and while they were good friends, rarely had enough to say to each other when not in person – guys were like that. Seamus was too far away for the extra charges to be reasonable, and Dean was living with his ailing grandmother, in Wales. Ginny was dating the son of a rapist, and Luna usually left Harry mentally exhausted, not socially stimulated.
He liked how Angela made him feel. She made him feel less lonely, and like a real person, as opposed to... a stay at home... someone.
They had not had sex yet. She had promised him that they had not had it that night, and bloke-to-bloke, Ron had assured Harry that he was pretty sure they hadn't. And they would not, for quite some time – Harry still wasn't ready for it – but that wasn't to say he wasn't looking forward to having it in the future.
Tonight, the future would begin to begin. Because Angela was coming for dinner, graciously supplying the take out curry.
'Excited' wasn't an accurate enough word to describe Harry, but she knew Severus would have one. The man was like a walking thesaurus.
Thrilled. Master was elated. Severus watched as he spoke quickly, and enthusiastically ate his meal. He had a feeling that the enthusiasm was not over the spicy food, too spicy for Severus' stomach.
Severus watched the way his master laughed at cracks the young blonde made. He could not let his eyes rest on his master's eyes, but he was sure they were lit with a kind of excitement that would never be reserved for Severus.
And why should it be? You're his slave. You are supposed to strive to be unnoticed. You do not want your master smiling at you. Smiling is bad. And it always means trouble.
Severus stared down at the bowl of food, pretending to be oblivious to the food that had been tossed on him from the high chair tray directly above him.
Smiling was not always bad. Occasionally, it was all right. For example, Master Teddy smiled nearly all the time. The young Metamorphmagus, whether a toothy grin, or a wide toothless smile, rarely didn'tsmile. And Master rarely smiled over bad things. He smiled when he was pleased, or happy. Bad things did not usually make Master smile.
Master is happy with the woman here. Your master is pleased. Be happy that he is happy. That is all that is important to you.
Severus was not allowed to make eye contact with those above him, unless instructed otherwise. He could look at the eyes, but only briefly, and unobserved. He was also usually on his knees, meaning he usually saw things from the waist down.
A lot could be told from the waist down. One could tell if a man was aroused. And how he might go about relieving himself by the style of trousers. You could see the hands from that level – big calloused hands meant a hard worker, which meant the person could be kind to slaves, but they could also deliver harsh blows. Manicured, taken care of hands, usually meant the opposite.
The young woman wore Muggle jeans. That signalled practicality, as well as someone who was caught up with current times. She wore heels, however, which was a sign that she put her practicality on the wayside to feel powerful and imposing. Her hands were well-taken care of, but her nails were painted clear (he could tell, despite being clear, because of how many times he had painted Mistress Weston's nails), which meant that she cared about herself, but did not spend so much time in it that she was a danger to someone like Severus.
She looked like one that could make master happy, Severus supposed, but then why was Severus not sure about her? Something about her made him feel unsettled. It was not his position to say anything, but it was his duty to protect his master. If she hurt him and Severus had not said something, was it Severus' fault?
No, not if she simply broke his heart. But if she tried to kill him, it would be.
But she would not try to kill him. She seemed to authentically care for master. The way she brushed his hand with hers... but what did Severus know of such things?
As the night went on, Severus found himself feeling confused over the sheer normalcy of he evening. It was confusing, because he had not had a normal evening in months. He was not sure exactly how long he had been at Master's, but it was September. He had been there all summer.
Most of Master's attention was on the woman. He did play with Master Teddy a bit and speak to Severus, often times seeming like he was trying to bring him into the conversation, but for the most part, Severus felt like a fly on the wall, as a proper slave should feel.
"I should get my godson to bed." Master said, as Master Teddy laid on the carpeted floor. "He's pooped."
"Why do you call him that?" Mistress D'Angelo asked, her curiosity evident in her voice. "He's your son now – doesn't he call you 'daddy'? What does he call you, Harry?"
"Um... 'Arry, for the, um, most part."
"'Harry'? For the most part?"
"Okay, actually, the whole part."
"Harry!" The shrillness of her voice hurt Severus' ears.
"What?" Master said, defensively, picking up Master Teddy. "I called my godfather by his first name!"
"That's different – did he raise you?"
"Um... no." Master admitted. "But if he had, I still would have called him 'Sirius'. He wouldn't have wanted to make me forget my dad."
"You can have two dads." Mistress D'Angelo insisted. "It's unhealthy for a kid to call his parent by their first name. My dad died when I was three, and I call my adoptive dad 'dad'. It's not like I'm replacingthe other one, though."
Master sighed. "Yeah. It's just complicated. I mean, I've got a picture of Remus on his dresser – don't got one of just Tonks – yet – but I don't know how else to-"
"Harry," Mistress D'Angelo put her hand on his arm, "maybe you should read some books on adoption."
"Gryffindors don't read anything – they just ask someone who knows."
Severus pushed the memories back, despite a terrible headache that could surely rival one of his master's. He refused to let the memories in. It would have been easier to Occlude and not listen to their speaking, but Master had recently all but ordered for him not to.
Master began up the stairs. "Severus, will you be okay down here while I put Teddy to bed?"
Severus had been allowed to stay awake until nine-thirty of late. Whilst Master Teddy laid down, he usually waited alone, or with Gik, in the sitting room. He was always okay while Master put Master Teddy to bed.
"Oh, we'll be fine." Mistress D'Angelo sweetly said. "Take your time, Harry."
The room become silent, save for the ticking clock and crackling fireplace. It was only rarely that quiet. For some reason, whenever it was that quiet, it triggered a small amount of anxiety in Severus.
"So, Severus, I guess you don't remember me from Hogwarts. Ravenclaw, left in 1995?" Mistress D'Angelo asked.
Severus bit down on his lip, trying to keep the memories at bay. Occlumency was not actually supposed to be used to block memories, and the practise could be damaging. Perhaps that contributed to making Severus a bad slave. But he could not stop.
"I do not recall, mistress," he cringed. "I will ask my master to punish me however he deems fit." He never deems punishment fit.
"Oh, it's not a big deal," she said. "Harry said something about amnesia or blocked memories. My brother's brother-in-law was a follower of You-Know-Who, and doesn't remember anything of it- he got Obliviated in battle or something, and he's still toiling away in some slave camp or whatever they do to you guys. So, is it true my uncle got killed by one of you, with the marks? He was a half-blood."
Severus did not recall, not with his Occlumency shields like they were. A good slave would take them down to answer the question properly. However, Severus' master had said to leave them up to block memories if he wanted, and Severus' master was certainly not one to manipulate with words.
The bookshop worker's little sister? Battle? One of you? Had Severus been that terrible? It was no wonder he was being punished like he was, as a slave. And the mark... was that the slave brand/mark on his forehead, or the dark tattoo up his arm?
"I do not recall, Mistress." Severus kept his eyes to his knees, which looked knobby even under the trousers he wore. "I apologise for that. Also, I apologise for whatever pain I have perhaps bestowed upon your family. Perhaps my master-"
"-oh, yeah, right. Like he'll punish you for doing something you don't remember." She scoffed, her tone changing to one Severus recognised well – annoyance. She leaned over and lit her Muggle cigarette with her wand. "I never liked him, anyway. Mentally deranged. Tried to kill my cat when I was twelve. My uncle, that is, not my brother-in-law... not that he doesn't deserve what he got, too."
Severus barely heard the comment on the cat. He was too busy watching the smoke waft from her cigarette to the ceiling. Severus' master did not smoke, and certainly did not want his home smelling of such.
It was Severus' responsibility to keep his master pleased.
"Mistress, is there a charm you could please place on your cigarette?" Severus tried to ask. "My master, I do not believe, minds smokers in his home, as long as proper spells are placed to ensure-"
"-oh, yeah, yeah." She wandlessly put a spell on her cigarette. "Does Harry know you're such a nag? Shit, if I had a slave like you, I'd be telling you to shut up left and right. Harry's too kind, though. Almost too kind, don't you think?"
Was Severus a nag? He hoped not. He hoped he was just saying what his master would ask, if his master were there. Was Severus' master a nag? Was it wrong to wonder that about your master? If Severus' Master was a nag, was it all right if he was?
And how was he to respond to that question? "Master is very kind."
Mistress D'Angelo took a long drag. "Kind and innocent. Sexually, anyway. In other ways... I'll fix that soon enough, though."
Again, Severus did not know how to respond. "Yes, Mistress."
Master came down the stairs two at a time, smoothing his unruly black hair with his hands. "We all right down here?"
Mistress D'Angelo put out her cigarette. "Yeah. Is Teddy asleep?"
Gik curled onto Severus' lap, who was almost just as well as forgotten by his betters. It was just as well, though Severus had a feeling he did not ever want to be noticed, even for the briefest of times, by Mistress D'Angelo again.
Coming up next in Unwell...
...Chapter Fifty Seven:Interlude: An Article
