"Up, you!" A boot nudged Snape's ribs, causing him to groan – the kicks that had been aimed at his chest the day before seemed to have broken one or two bones.

"UP!"

As he struggled to get to his feet, his guard smirked evilly.

"It seems you are to receive special treatment," he remarked, "You have been bought early, before the auction."

The thought of having to stand on a platform while people were bidding on him had been utterly repulsive. That he might be spared that was a comfort, though Snape was all too aware that it would likely turn out a mixed blessing.

He had managed to stand when the door opened and the guard sprang to attention.

"Severus Snape, Prisoner Number 9160, incarcerated three years, four months, six days," the guard rattled off.

"At ease. Well, Mr Potter, here is your purchase."

Potter! Snape's eyes narrowed and he glared, which cost him a slap across the face from his guard.

"Lower your eyes in the presence of your master, SLAVE!" the man spat, striking him again until he stumbled, trying to keep his balance while holding his injured ribs.

"Excuse me," a polite voice interrupted, "I believe that is my property you are damaging."

The guard paled. "O-Of course, Mr Potter…just thought to teach him proper respect…I did not mean…would you like him marked, Mr Potter?"

Snape blanched. Marked? The mark on his arm had disappeared with the death of Voldemort, leaving angry red scars that had faded over time.

"Yes, I think that would be wise," Potter said. Of course. Potter would want to show off that he now owned Snape as his slave. Would throw parties for those friends of his, possibly, and make him wait on them. James would have.

"Hold out your hand," Potter said, almost indifferent.

He could not. Even if he had wanted to, he could not move. Then a rough hand grabbed his wrist, and held out his right hand for Potter to see. A gentle tap from the young wizard's wand, and a mark appeared on the back of his hand – a Lily. He swallowed hard. Yet the process itself had been surprisingly painless, very unlike the terrible feeling the placing of the Dark Mark had been. Potter spoke again.

"The money has been transferred, I take it?"

Minister Broadmoore nodded. "Yes, Mr Potter, and may I say we could not have hoped to find a better owner for Prisoner 9160? Very few people we could trust to keep him in check…very few."

Potter did not dignify that statement with a response, merely turning around to indicate he wished to leave the…facility…as quickly as he could, leaving it to the guard to force Snape to follow.

Just outside the gate, a familiar figure was waiting. Snape looked up, both embarrassed and grateful, at the Headmaster.

"Harry…" the old wizard tried, "Harry, please. I will pay you double what you spent to buy Severus, but please sell him to me."

Green eyes bore into blue, the younger wizard not saying a word. After a tense silence, he motioned for Snape to follow him to the Apparition point.

"Harry! Please, you are better than this! Don't do this…don't hurt him! That is not the kind of person you are!" Dumbledore called after them, a hint of desperation in his voice.

At that Potter turned around. "And how would you know who I really am?"

Had he screamed in anger, it would not have been half as frightening as the impassive voice that asked the question now, as if answering an inquiry by a complete stranger. Snape lowered his eyes in resignation. He only hoped his suffering would be short lived, and death came quickly. Of course, he could attempt to kill Potter – that would earn him a quick death, but after years protecting the brat, he could not bring himself to do so. He had promised Albus he would protect Lily's son. He eyed the mark of the lily on his hand. Hers. Potter might own him, but he was hers, now.

"Don't hurt him…" Albus whispered, brokenly, and Snape sent him a quick look of gratitude before Potter grabbed his arm and Apparated.

ssssssssss

Side-along Apparition was not pleasant in his current state, but despite his discomfort Snape still managed to glimpse around. It was a spacious cottage in a quiet valley, not at all the impressive mansion he had expected. The house was large enough, to be sure, but didn't look at all posh. In fact, it practically breathed comfort.

Potter motioned for him to follow and he reluctantly obeyed, not knowing what horrors awaited him inside.

"Dobby. Winky."

The two elves, who had left Hogwarts with Harry just after the war, popped into the hall.

Harry waved his hand at Snape. "You take him from here." He disappeared into one of the rooms off the hall.

The elves regarded Snape. He felt uneasy under the scrutiny, but his head swam, his ribs ached, his jaw was stiffening from the blows he'd received just prior to leaving, and he had not been fed in a few days. He wondered if Potter would leave torturing him to the Elves – he knew full well how powerful elf magic could be. Though the elves did not have Unforgivables, they could most definitely cause pain.

Then small hands ushered him upstairs, pushing him into a room. He tried to protest, but a cup was pressed to his lips – watered down juice with sleeping potion. He went with the assumption that they would need him awake for torture, and sleep was probably the safer option. Drinking deeply, he knew nothing.

sssssssssssssss

It was light when he woke, though the sun seemed to have moved backwards. A few seconds of clearing his confused thoughts made him realize it must be morning, and he slept through the night. As he took stock of his body, he realized nothing hurt – his ribs had mended, the bruises had disappeared.

Dobby walked into the room. "Fessor Snape's awake! Good. Winky is making Professor Snape's breakfast."

"I…" Severus sat up, "I…don't understand. Weren't you supposed to torture me? Where is Potter? Isn't he going to do it himself?"

Then his eyes widened. "Are you going to get in trouble with him for healing me?"

Dobby seemed unable to comprehend. "Harry Potter sir is a good wizard. Never punishes Dobby and Winky."

So. Potter was kind to his elves, at least. He should have expected that. It had frequently been rumoured that Potter had befriended these particular elves while still in school. Winky had enjoyed looking after Barty Crouch – perhaps she doted on Potter, now, with equal fervour.

Winky herself entered the room, carrying a tray with a light breakfast. As he ate, the elves kept near, nodding in approval with every bite he took. It was quite disconcerting, to be honest. He was starting to feel like their pet.

"So – what am I supposed to do, if I am not going to be tortured in the immediate future?" he asked, "Am I to work for you?"

The elves looked at each other and shrugged. "Dobby and Winky is not be needing any help. Professor Snape is not in good shape to work. Professor Snape sleep, and read, and heal."

"I doubt Potter will allow me to vacation," the former Potions Master of Hogwarts sneered.

"Harry Potter sir does not care what Professor Snape does, Harry Potter sir says. Dobby and Winky has made these rooms ready for yous. Shed out in the garden is ready to brew potions."

Winky swatted Dobby at that point in his explanation. "Professor Snape is not going in there until good and healthy wizard!"

She turned to the bemused wizard. "Winky is needing some householdy potions – shop stuff not good enough. Harry Potter sir might have list too – perhaps when Professor Snape is well, Professor Snape could brew for Winky?"

Ah. His Potions expertise. Of course. No use beating him senseless when there was a long list of potions to be brewed. He supposed it could be worse – he enjoyed brewing, and if it kept him from more broken ribs, all the better.

"Winky fixes these rooms for Professor Snape," the elf motioned around her. For the first time, Snape noticed he was in a small bedroom, with a bathroom attached. Through the door, he could make out most of a sitting room. That could not be right. Potter could not have meant for him to live in these rooms – he was his SLAVE, for Merlin's sake! Potter might be kind to his elves, but something like this would undoubtedly cause all three of them great harm. He had better not use these rooms if he wanted to spare the elves who had been friendly and helpful to him a lot of pain and grief, not to mention himself. Perhaps he could sleep out in the shed…yes, that would be better. Perhaps if he stayed out of his way, Potter would forget about him entirely. That was the best he could hope for right now.