"Harry!" Ron called around his sandwich as his best mate stepped through the portrait hole.
"Ron," he smiled tightly, mind still reeling from the arrangement he'd fallen into. His friends didn't seem as upset. "Are we all doing the apprentice thing?" he asked.
Ron grimaced and nodded, "You didn't miss much at that meeting. The teachers are being really quiet about it all. We didn't even get to see the list before old McGonagall made off with it."
"List?" he asked, nodding at Neville as he came down from the boys' dorm.
"Headmaster Dumbledore made it with Minister Heller," Neville answered softly, crossing over to join Ginny on one of the couches before the fire.
Harry frowned lightly, "So, they haven't told you the masters' names?"
"Well we know somebody's stuck with Snape," Ron laughed. He leaned and punched Neville in the arm, "Probably you, mate!" Neville blanched and looked back to the book he was reading.
"It would be a great honor to apprentice beneath Professor Snape," Hermione claimed.
Harry fought the urge to smirk. Bloody Hell, one afternoon and he's already rubbing off on me. Maybe he could get Hermione to trade with him for Snape.
Ron pulled at Harry's arm to gain the other boy's attention, "You should have seen Malfoy. He had his Dad up here whining about Snape not being on the list; it was great."
"But the letter said your Head of House couldn't be your master," Harry argued. Malfoy was a prat, but he was usually a smart prat. "So, Snape got put on the list because of Malfoy? That doesn't make any sense."
Ron shrugged, "The whole thing is stupid. A master is supposed to basically replace your parents, and it's something you're supposed to choose freely. Those bastards at the Ministry would take away your right to piss freely given half of a chance." He looked for Harry to agree with him, but the other teenager had joined the group by the fire.
Harry had a 'Master' who made things cold and a prat who wanted to be taught by said master. Lucius Malfoy was intelligent enough to realize Snape's name on the list meant nothing for Draco. The blonds would have been better leaving Snape off of it and unattached. Wouldn't they?
Previously, Hermione had had her nose predictably buried in some abnormally large, leather tome. When Harry sat, she closed it and leaned forward. Harry raised a brow at the title, "The Mastery of Mastery?"
She nodded, "Discusses several historical apprenticeships since the Founders' era. So have you thought about what area you'd want to study?"
"Why bother?" Harry replied, "It's not like they are giving us a choice."
Hermione adapted her best 'in the know' tone, "You're acting like Ron, now. When he hasn't been eating, he's been moping about the injustice of the world. And you do get some choice. Almost every professor has a mastery in more than one field."
"Like who?" Ginny countered, annoyed with Hermione's downplay of Ron's distress. At Hermione's silence, she sneered, "Don't tell me there's something you don't know."
"Lay off," Harry snapped before turning his back to Ginny, facing his bushy friend directly, "But really, Hermione, like who?"
"Well, since you all are stuck on his inclusion, take Professor Snape," she offered, "He has a mastery in several fields of potions and defense. McGonagall has masteries in at least transfiguration and arithmancy."
"Professor Sprout is the same way," Neville added. "I don't know what all of them are, but there's more than one."
Ginny shoved the book in Neville's lap, "They're just teachers, why did they bother with getting multiple masteries?"
"Just because someone becomes a professor doesn't mean they have to stop their education," Hermione frowned. "Haven't you ever heard of a research professor?"
Harry twisted his mouth at the argument itching to jump forth between his two friends. Attempting to lead their attention astray, he re-bounded a form of Hermione's earlier question, "Who do you hope will be your master?"
Hermione pursed her lips, "Well, there are several different factors."
The question momentarily settled the problems between Hermione and Ginny. Harry leaned back as his friends argued over who the best master would be. The majority agreed Snape would be the worst.
-~PULSE~-
It had been many years since Severus had spent such a long day in Muggle clothing. The shoes hurt his feet and the jacket felt plain weird. Pulling at his sleeves to settle them after his journey, he stepped from the alleyway, confident in his ability to blend.
It was a short walk to the hospital his grandfather had selected for his father. He used the main entrance to the building, comfortable in the fact that the usual personnel recognized him as merely another visitor. As long as you looked like you belonged somewhere, generally, no one would question your motives.
Tobias Snape resided in room 562 on the fifth floor. Severus, who avoided elevators whenever possible, welcomed the steep flights of stairs. At his destination, he checked his pulse, and pleased with the results, entered the exciting realm of long term coma patients.
The path was well memorized, before he knew it he was at the door marked T. Snape. He pushed the handle.
The door refused to budge.
Severus shook out his hands roughly, looking down either side of the hall. The ward's night staff was considerably smaller than the barely average-sized day counterpart. Only one nurse was stationed at the centralized administration desk, and she was preoccupied with her computer screen.
The chilly hospital was by no means an ideal location for practicing but needs must and what not. He closed his eyes and began to visualize the center of his power.
Severus centered himself, focusing on keeping his breaths evenly spaced and honing in on the feeling of blood moving through his veins with every pulse from his heart. The air beneath his palms shimmered, and he drew his right arm back, left arm outstretched before him. His heart rate increased, his energy bucked up against his mentally erected damns. The right shot forward and pushed the charged air with it. The ball left his hand and surged into the wood.
The door rattled within its frame as the energy ricocheted through the atoms producing a horrific, wince-worthy groan. Severus startled from his trance and searched for damage. He wiggled the handle.
It still would not move.
Severus pushed harder against the door; it remained secure. He leaned against it, using his feet for leverage. An orderly stopped across the hall from door T. Snape and regarded the wizard as if he were a morbidly fascinating species of insect.
"Can I help you with anything, sir?" the man-nurse asked.
Severus stopped his attempts on the door, adjusting his stance to look like he was leaning. He grinned tightly, "Door's stuck."
Man-nurse nodded slowly and motioned for Severus to step aside. He tried the handle and the latch gave way immediately. Severus scooted around him and turned to close the door.
"Thank y-," he started.
"Bloody f-," the orderly shouted and cut himself off. He reached around the door frame, slamming a fist into the emergency alarm. He grabbed Severus and yanked him from the room, pulling the door shut in the process. Severus turned just in time to see two men on the floor, blood seeping from every facial orifice into a large puddle. A third man closer to the door reached to them as the wood met frame, entreating for help. None of the men in the room was his father.
"Dr. Orange, you are needed on the fifth floor, Dr. Orange to the fifth floor," an intercom sounded through the hospital.
"What is your real business here? Why were you messing with that door?" the orderly demanded, his grip harshly unrelenting upon the wizard's arm.
Severus sneered and pulled his appendage back, warily eying the guards that surged into the hall. "T. Snape," he snapped, pointing at the sign next to the door, "is my father." His eyes shifted for an escape route.
"What's the situation?" a hospital guard asked as his partners sealed off room 562.
"This man was trying to force the door, going on about it being stuck when I questioned him. I pushed it, and right away, it comes open with those guys stiffed on the floor." The orderly took a quick breath and pointed accusatorily, "He did something, yeah!"
Severus pursed his lips, "I was here to visit my father."
"Just the same," the guard kicked back, "You'd better come with me until the police arrive." The guard took hold of Severus' arm; the wizard jerked back, debating the merits of a well aimed Reducto.
"That won't be necessary," a familiar voice boomed through the hollow corridor, accompanied by a stairwell slamming open. He walked straight into the semi-circle the guard, Severus, and the orderly formed. "Carry on, gentlemen," the man instructed, taking Severus' arm from the guard. "My fellow inspectors will take care of everything." He flashed a white row of teeth. "Have your men see mine; all of them, understand?" He nodded expectantly and began walking Severus to the lift.
"Things were getting rather heavy, eh, old man?" the man asked.
Severus bit back a snarl, "I was handling it, Shacklebolt."
"Handling it, he says," the auror scoffed. "And it's Kinglsey, Severus." The dark haired wizard sneered and stormed from the lift the moment the doors opened. Kingsley caught up with him and steered him towards an alley nearby.
"Our radars were flashing like crazy over at HQ. It spiked two hours ago then died down. We assumed it was a routine flare, but then, your signature must have set it off," Kinglsey volunteered. He loosely took hold of Severus' arm, "I'm assuming you had nothing to do with those men's unfortunate circumstances." Severus cast a disdainful look. "Good, good. Well then, I just need you to come with me and answer a few questions." The auror spun on the spot; before Severus could give a scathing refusal, the Ministry Aurory took shape before his eyes.
"I told you never to do that!" he seethed. Several desk jockeys turned at the noise.
Kinglsey waved them off and guided the reluctant professor to his office." Well then, Professor, I just have a few questions for you." He cast his wand to charm his fire place. "Can get nippy in here at night," he explained, "That charm actually keeps the flames from extinguishing.
"Name?" he asked, smirking playfully.
Severus glared and responded dryly, "Severus Snape. I don't have time for this." He needed to return to the hospital and search for clues as to who had taken his father.
Kingsley flashed a grin and nodded his understanding, "Fine, fine. So why were you at the hospital?"
"Off the record, Shacklebolt," he ordered, unwavering gaze fixed upon the offending quill. Kingsley looked doubtfully between Severus and his parchment before finally relinquishing his quill and folding his hands neatly atop his desk. "The room in question belonged to my father. He's been in a coma since I was sixteen. I visit him regularly now that the war is over."
Kinglsey cocked his head, "That is rather human of you, Severus." The wizard in question growled in response. He clinched his fists discreetly, trying to ignore the tingling at his fingertips.
"I didn't come here to be mocked," he snapped.
"Why a Muggle hospital?" Kingsley interceded before Severus' ire could gain momentum.
The pale wizard's jaw visibly ticked as old scars were pealed back, nevertheless he answered, "My maternal grandfather masterminded the arrangement. He felt it would be better for a Muggle to be surrounded by other Muggles."
"And what were the details surrounding your father's fall to illness?" Kingsley asked.
"I fail to see how that is relevant to your investigation."
Kingsley's exasperation was apparent, "I think you do. I'm trying to do you a solid, mate. Least you could do is to throw me a rope. You were the only well bodied wizard found at a crime scene with two dead men and one more well on the way. Add to that, the whole thing took place in your father's hospital room." The dark auror circled his desk, leaning one arm on the back of the dark wizard's chair. "Give me a branch," he demanded, palm outstretched.
Severus gritted his teeth, itching to recoil from the man's proximity. "Am I under arrest," he asked, voice deadly soft.
Kingsley mirrored Severus' frustration, "Not yet."
"Then when you've got something to pin me with, floo me." He stood, forcing the auror to step back. "The Ministry is already taking over most of my life; I'm not giving you anymore." He raised his brows expectantly, waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, he made to leave.
"Severus," Kingsley called, voice filled with warning, "the crime scene is closed until further notice. I don't want to hear you trying to snoop around. He paused and softened his voice, "You won't get anywhere by not cooperating with us."
"Instead of wasting your time questioning me over things you could discover in any hospital file," Severus shot back acidly, "Why don't you find out who's responsible for those three men? While you are at it, why don't you figure out who kidnapped my father?" Kingsley's door reverberated with the force used to shut it, only then did he notice his fire had burned out.
-~PULSE~-
Morning could not come quickly enough for Harry. Ron refused to taper his barrage of complaints on the injustices of the world until well into the early hours of the morning and only then because Harry refused to participate in the conversation. As surly as his potions master could be, Ron's attitude almost, almost mind you, made Harry look forward to his professor's quiet presence.
The professor seemed different the night before, by far more relaxed despite the conflict with Harry's aunt and uncle. It made Harry reflect on all his interactions with Snape. Honestly, if he were to cast aside all his previously formed prejudices, Snape hadn't been that bad since Voldemort's death.
Maybe the apprenticeship would work.
Hermione and Neville were already in the common room when Harry finished dressing for the day.
"Ron and Ginny still asleep?" he asked.
"You know Ron, Harry," Neville offered in the timid way he always spoke. "He probably won't get up until noon."
"I doubt Professor McGonagall will allow that," Hermione argued. "We were just going to head down for breakfast. Want to join us?"
Harry scratched his stomach absently, "Sure."
The halls were eerily empty of both person and ghost. Harry half expected Snape to jump from every corner, berating him for disobedience before the apprenticeship was even official. But he had to eat, right? Even Snape had to understand that.
Didn't he?
-~PULSE~-
Dumbledore's door fell shut after Severus. The wizard looked around for the Headmaster to no avail. Dumbledore had instructed him to present himself first thing in the morning, so where was the grey-bearded professor?
Fawkes trilled, calling Severus' attention. Distractedly, he reached out to stroke the phoenix.
The bird violently recoiled from his touch. Severus and Fawkes peered at each other warily. Severus reached out once again; the bird hesitantly allowed it. The living flames within the bird's feathers cooled at the contact, turning a bluish purple as the pale fingertips skimmed over them. Once Severus lifted his hand, the feather's returned to their normal oranges and reds.
"Not so bad, after all," Severus whispered.
"What's not so bad, my boy?" Dumbledore asked as he entered his office through the connection to his quarters.
"Your chicken's odor," Severus lied smoothly and quickly changed the subject, "It seems my first thing in the morning comes long before yours, Albus. I've been here for nearly an hour."
Dumbledore snorted inelegantly, a gesture more suited to his potions master, "You've been here scarcely five minutes. Stop your whining and take a seat."
Severus sniffed disdainfully, gathered his robes, and took the proffered chair. "Keep in mind, Albus, I've yet to have any caffeine this morning."
Dumbledore shuddered in horror and grinned conspiratorially, "So I should make this quick lest your addiction monkey attack me.
"You visited your father last night."
"Attempted to."
"Then tell me about your trials," Dumbledore prompted.
Severus gave a longsuffering sigh but recounted his evening anyway, "I went to the hospital. My father's room door was locked, but the on duty nurse was able to release the latch on his first try." Severus pursed his lips, staring into the Headmaster's grate. "Three wizards were in the room, two dead and one injured. I believe they were part of some plot to kidnap my father." He leaned forward, "But why my father, a Muggle man who's been in a coma for most of my life?"
"Whom you visit a t least once a week, now." Dumbledore saw the self blame flares fire off in Severus' eyes and body posture and tried to head them off at the pass, "You are nevertheless not to blame, Severus. I do not doubt this would have happened with or without your visits."
"How on Earth could you know that, old man?" Severus snapped.
"Perhaps if you would let me finish, I could tell you," Dumbledore chided gently as he retrieved a folder from the side of his desk. Severus' eyes narrowed at the file sporting the Ministry seal. "Yes, this is an advance copy of the Auror Report. Our friend, Kingsley, was generous enough to send it my way."
"Your friend," Severus countered.
The headmaster went on as if uninterrupted, "The three wizards were indeed former Death Eaters." He flipped through a few pages, "There is also a scan record of the magical waves and signatures released that alerted the Ministry." He flipped the chart to show Severus. The younger wizard did not look; he already knew what graced the parchment. "They've identified everything except this line, here," he pointed at a multicolored squiggle near the end of the scan.
"Stop beating around the bush, Albus. Get to the point already," Severus demanded harshly.
"It's a Pulse, Severus," the question and allegation was in the tone more than his words.
Severus bristled, "Are you accusing me of something, Headmaster?"
Dumbledore rose from his desk, "Do not assume you will succeed in playing me, my boy. Answer me directly. Do you know how to Pulse?"
His lips curled, and Severus debated the intelligence found in further denying what Dumbledore was so obviously already in the know of. Still, the rebellious, prickly streak buried deep within him shrank at the elder man's behavior.
"Pulsing is illegal and a dead art, Headmaster," he sneered. The Headmaster glowered before his face instantly and completely transformed.
His features were soft when he looked upon Severus, "Do you really distrust me so much?"
Severus avoided looking in the man's eyes. The eyes would undoubtedly undo him. He found the be-starred trim of the Headmaster's robes particularly fascinating.
"Severus," the Headmaster called softly.
Severus' gaze rose to the Headmaster's face, drawn in against his will. He looked into the hurt blue eyes. He was caught.
Damn.
He sighed and stared into the fire. "My father taught me," was his reply. "Will you send for the aurors?"
The Headmaster's back was now turned, hands clasped behind him. He was reflective when he spoke, "Many years ago, Pulsing was a Dark Wizard's weapon of choice. As such, the Ministry made the skill illegal." He turned to face Severus, "Rarely do I agree with the Ministry's decisions."
Severus' tense shoulders relaxed marginally, "Then you do not disapprove?"
Dumbledore nodded, "I do not, but I pray you take caution." The wizened wizard held Severus black gaze, "Pulsing is an effective weapon, is it not?"
"Very effective," Severus assured. "However its practice is not without inherent dangers," he admitted. "It was favored amongst dark witches and wizards because they were willing to take the risk."
Dumbledore stroked his beard pensively, "My only sources describe the outer effects of a Pulse. What specifically are the dangers of learning?"
Severus leaned forward. Now that the likelihood of being sent to prison had past, he relished the rare occurrence of knowing something his seemingly omniscient employer did not.
"Pulsing," he began in a flat voice, hiding his bubbling excitement, for Severus Snape did not bubble, "Draws upon your magic and life forces using your heart beats to propel itself. It is controlled by your pulse, which is how it gets the name. You must condition your body and heart to accept the added stress before you can even think of trying. Once your body is ready, you learn to increase the speed and force you heart creates and to bottle that energy until you decide to release it. The risk arises because magical beings are often lazy. Impatience and shortcuts will get you nothing but a massive coronary attack which is why most wizards are not suited for the discipline."
Dumbledore absorbed the information quietly and after a moment, spoke, "I believe the Death Eaters have kidnapped your father in hopes of learning his trade."
"He's a comatose machinist, not very useful for reaping havoc on the public."
The Headmaster nodded to himself, "We must be prepared to fight against Pulse wielding Death Eaters."
"Do you want me to teach you?" Severus questioned, lips pursed and wondering whether or not Dumbledore could physically handle the stress.
The old man blinked, coming back to the present. He smiled warmly, "No, my dear boy, I doubt I could condition my body to accept what you described."
"It is easier to learn while youth still races through your veins," Severus concurred.
The Headmaster's smile grew, he stood and started ushering Severus to the door, "Good, good. I am so pleased you agree."
"Agree to what?" Severus demanded incredulously as he was unceremoniously tossed from the Headmaster's office.
The old man was bursting at the seams with the level of exuberance he reserved for those special moments of making Severus' life a living hell. "To teaching your apprentice to Pulse, of course," he explained merrily. The door closed between them, nearly tapping Severus' nose in the process. "Do be careful with the boy," the happy voice called through the wood.
Severus growled, his jaw ticking as he stared at the door for several long moments, desperately searching for a vein of logic in the Headmaster's behavior.
"He's gone completely barmy," he mumbled to himself. He moved to the staircase just as it started spinning upward. Stepping aside, he awaited the Headmaster's next guest.
A tightlipped McGonagall greeted him sharply as she sidestepped him. Severus paused to watch her retreating back speculatively.
"Severus," she called the moment his foot fell on the floor beneath the steps, "I'll need you in the dining room in ten minutes."
-~PULSE~-
The Great Hall was rarely used during the summer. With only the shrunken populace in attendance at meal times, there was no reason to facilitate the grand room as Harry and his friends discovered upon arriving to find the usual meal location sealed tightly.
Luckily, Professor Flitwick was passing by at precisely the same moment and led them to a smaller dining area, usually only open to the staff during the school year. The three early risers ate their breakfast and then remained at the table. Hermione's nose was in her newfound book on masteries whilst Neville and Harry played a Muggle card game. Over the next half hour, the rest of the present staff wandered in.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I am indeed aware of the time," McGonagall snapped, patience stretched like rice paper as she led the remaining apprentices into the room. Their organization was similar to that of a group of ducklings, Malfoy bringing up the sullen rear.
"Are we having a meeting?" Hermione asked her Head of House.
"Yes, Miss Granger, the Headmaster will be here shortly."
Harry eyed Ron as he entered. The red head was none too pleased with him for his lack of attention the night before and, like always, was reacting with irrational anger. He practically sent Trelawney into hysterics from her seat opposite him. He noted only Professor Flitwick was brave enough to sit (or more aptly, to remain) next to the divination professor, the other professors avoided the second chair to her side like the plague.
Professor Snape stormed the room, all robes and billowing glory. McGonagall visibly disapproved of his antics. With a barely concealed grimace, he eyed the remaining chairs and without a second moment's hesitation, selected the one near Harry.
Severus was silent while the others dined, having shown up with the fear of Minerva in mind. There were certain matters you did not push her on. Blatantly ignoring her summons when she was on needles anyway was one such matter, especially when you couldn't claim you'd missed her notification.
The Headmaster took his sweet time making an appearance. Even the professors, having already finished their meals, and had begun to fidget when the sparkly wizard finally graced them with his presence.
He smiled warmly as he took his seat between McGonagall and Severus. "I thank you all for your cooperation this morning and appearing on such short notice," he began. "As you all are aware, this arrangement is Ministry designed and driven, so what is necessary for us, now, is to band together." He eyed Ron and Draco, "There is no room for conflict amongst ourselves." His enthusiasm returned and he pulled the list from his robes, "Despite certain misgivings, I am sure our apprentices are all wondering who they will be paired with." He spared a noticeable wink for Harry and read off the list.
Harry felt Ron's gaze fixed on the back of his head. Surely, Ron could not be that mad over Harry's neglect to tell him about already knowing, about Snape.
The Headmaster rambled on about ceremony and procedure. Harry, though interested, could not focus on the man's words. He felt as if he was dancing on the edge of a razor. Part of Ron's ramblings focused on an apprenticeship's inability to be exited easily. Only extreme circumstances allowed an escape.
The Headmaster removed another scroll. Only this time, upon unraveling it multiplied into seven different documents. The parchments fluttered under his magic and distributed to each of the different masters.
Harry's gaze blurred over the document.
Everything was supposed to get better after Voldemort croaked.
The meeting adjourned with Harry not so blissfully ignorant. Neville jarred his chair when he rose to catch up with Madame Sprout. Harry blinked after the rapidly growing teenager and realized he was left alone in the staff room.
Then he looked to his left.
The dark professor's gaze was the definition of steadfast. His coal black eyes bore into Harry's own.
"For your safety, I hope you do not intend to make such a display of disrespect a habit," he informed the younger wizard. His hands were steepled in front his chest, elbows resting calmly on the arms of the chair. Professor Snape appeared completely relaxed, and, yet, Harry couldn't remember a time he was more afraid of the man.
"What disrespect?" he asked, chin jutted out as he refused to be bullied throughout their entire apprenticeship.
"Are you finished?" Severus asked not unkindly, nodding to the breakfast foods on the middle of the table.
"Yes. What disrespect?" he pressed.
Snape stood from his chair silently and gestured for Harry to follow him.
"Snape!" he called as he stood from his seat, refusing to allow the other man to ignore him.
The professor whirled on him, his height allowing him to tower over the teenager.
"As of yet, it is 'Professor' or 'Sir," the older man ordered. He held his hands up to encompass the hall. "Do you have any idea what we are doing, Potter?" he spat. "We are going to make this farce official. The disrespect I speak of is ignoring the headmaster's speech, finding whatever little insignificant tidbits firing off in your mostly vacant headspace more interesting than his instructions. That is the disrespect I will not allow you to continue. You are to be my apprentice which means your behavior reflects upon my person. I'll be damned twice over before I allow you to make a mockery of me.
"Now, if you do not mind, we are going to my office to discuss our contract, which, not at all coincidentally is what the Headmaster just finished instructing us on."
Harry bit his tongue and looked down as he imagined all of the horrible things he could do to the great bat without getting caught. It was infuriating, just when he thought he could start getting along with the bastard, the man had to go and be an even bigger jerk.
He followed the older man in silence, still fuming from the uncalled for rebuke.
Severus lowered the wards on his office door and entered, immediately taking a seat behind his desk and unfurling the scroll.
Harry lingered in the doorway and shoved his hands in his pockets. Severus looked up from the paper. "What are you doing?" he snapped. "Get in here and close the door behind you."
Harry frowned and shuffled into the room. He struggled for words and finally waved his hand in a circular motion. "Why are you so," he paused uneasily, "pissed today?"
Severus' brows skyrocketed; he rose smoothly and circled his desk. He stopped directly before Harry, leaning toward him. "Pissed?" he asked.
Harry leaned backward, taking an involuntary step toward the door. "Yeah, pissed," he reiterated, holding his hands up in a supplicating gesture. "Yesterday you were, I don't know, like human." He shrugged at the older man.
Severus clenched his jaw and moved his gaze to a point just over Harry's head. Sighing, he nodded and returned to his seat.
He nodded to the chair before his desk, "Take a seat, Potter." He pursed his lips, black eyes following Harry's movements. After a long, decisive moment, the corners of his mouth quirked, "Take a lesson, Potter, never start your day by visiting Headmaster Dumbledore."
Harry nodded warily. "What does the contract say?"
"That you, Harry James Potter, will be my, Severus Tobias Snape's, apprentice," Severus' black eyes raked over the words one last time and then handed the document to Harry. "It is completely standard and a mere formality for the Ministry's records," he assured. Harry was inclined to believe him.
"Do we just sign, then? That will make me your apprentice?" Harry asked.
Severus cocked his head, "Well, we still have the ceremony where we imbibe raw chicken livers before giving ourselves matching butterfly tattoos on our bums; butterflies are the official symbol of the master/apprenticeship relationship. Oh, and we do this after we drink a cup of each other's mixed blood."
Harry bit down the bile rising in his throat, "A simple 'no' would have sufficed." He looked down to the paper and back to the man behind the desk. "I want my butterfly in red and gold. Do you have a quill?"
Severus smirked humorously and handed a quill to Harry, "I'll see what I can do, but the Ministry chooses the color at random." He looked down his nose to the paper, "Ah, you will have to sign in blood."
Harry flinched, his hand automatically covering the scar on its partner. "Is this a blood quill?"
"Those are illegal, dark items," Severus sneered. He reached into his robe and withdrew a pocket knife. He then walked to one of his many office cupboards and retrieved two small, white dishes. Harry twitched and watched with abject fascination as the older man easily sliced through the thin skin near the meaty part of his palm, just beneath his thumb. Severus held his hand over the dish, letting the opening pour into it. Once the bottom was well covered, he pressed a white handkerchief to the cut and rummaged through his desk for a bandage.
"Can't you just heal it?" Harry asked.
Severus glanced up, "For our purposes, the cut must be allowed to heal naturally." He picked up the knife, "I will make the incision for you, if you prefer." Harry grimaced and held his scarred hand out to his professor.
Severus firmly gripped the young appendage, frowning as he inspected the scar tissue which happened to be on a parallel spot to Severus' own cut.
"It seems you've had some experience with blood quills?" he queried disinterestedly. Harry's chin jutted out, but he remained silent.
"Very well," he placed the knife to Harry's skin, the length of the blade running along his scar, and applied further pressure. Harry chewed on his tongue for distraction as his blood dripped and covered the bottom of the dish. The same startlingly white cloth was pressed to his cut. His professor retrieved a salve and saw to Harry's hand.
"I thought you said it has to heal on its own," Harry frowned.
"This is a disinfectant," Snape clarified, slipping into his lecture voice, "It will prevent infection as well as numb any discomfort you're likely to feel. The bandages were already soaked with this Echinacea angustifolia mixture."
Severus wiped his hands on the cloth. "Now, sign," he ordered, nudging the paper to Harry.
Harry flexed his hand, picked up the quill, and placed it to parchment. His professor did the same after him. The scroll glowed a startling, deep silver before vanishing. A small, flat, metal square was left in its place.
Severus Snape was his new Master.
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