CHAPTER 19: Square One?
Snape looked half-dead, lying on the ground. "What's happening?" Harry demanded of Dumbledore.
"Your blood in his veins is what saved him from Voldemort's Killing Curse." Dumbledore looked white and grim. "But you are not actually family; the blood was part of a spell to bind you. It isn't enough to keep Severus alive. He is dying of the Killing Curse, slowly but surely."
Harry thought furiously. "What if we used another slave Bond?" he said. "All slave Bonds allow the master to draw strength from the slave, don't they? Even the voluntary ones?"
Dumbledore looked shocked for the first time in Harry's memory. "Harry," he said, "you are talking of a lifetime of bondage—"
"I know," Harry said grimly. "Better than most, I reckon."
"Harry, Severus would not want you to do this—"
"I can't let him die, Professor!" Harry nearly shouted, and Dumbledore subsided, giving him a small sad smile as he handed Harry's wand back to him.
Harry waved it in a large intricate pattern, feeling thankful for the hours he had spent obsessively going over the books on slavery. The spell was a longer one than he was used to, but relatively simple considering its importance.
"Ego Jacobus Harrius Potter, meque ultro ad Severum Snape Tobias, servus praestare necesse esse et bona conscientia facere possum."
"No," came a hoarse voice, and Harry looked down. Snape's eyes were only half-open, but he looked horrified.
Harry set his jaw. "I'm sorry, sir, but unless you'd rather die than be my master, you really don't have a choice." He slashed his wand in another complicated pattern. "You shouldn't have let me read all that stuff about Bonding."
And then it was over. Harry felt something hot on his neck, but he ignored it. He was too busy basking in a warm glow of accomplishment that even Snape's poisonous look (and the cold creeping in his veins) didn't quell.
"You fool," Snape rasped, beginning to sit up. Harry stepped forward to help him. Snape snarled, but Harry determinedly put out his arm to him.
"Severus." Dumbledore spoke mildly, but Harry could hear the reproof beneath as he helped Snape stand. "Harry has saved your life at the cost of his own freedom and dignity, so you can borrow his strength."
The muscles in Snape's arms bunched and strained in Harry's grip. "As though you haven't already done enough— let go of me, Potter!"
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Lupin and Mr Weasley stiffen. The rest of the Order still looked dumbstruck. Then he had to hold on to Snape for support as his knees went weak.
"Potter!"
That didn't sound concerned at all, Harry thought mournfully, his head feeling light. Why was Snape so angry with him? He shook his head to clear it. "I'm fine," he gasped, directing the statement to Lupin and Mr Weasley, who had surged forward in alarm. "It's just the Bond working. Snape's drawing the strength he needs from me, through the Bond." He stifled a yelp when Snape put an arm around him to support him. Then there was a cold hand on his neck, and he did yelp. "What are you doing, Snape?"
Snape's lips tightened at the informal address, but his finger moved further down Harry's neck, pulling down Harry's collar. His other hand was on the back of Harry's neck, holding him in place. Harry shivered at the touch, and then blushed at the reaction. Snape's finger stopped for a moment, and a strange expression crossed his face. "Checking your brand for injury or infection, Potter—oh, yes, there is a brand on your neck, though I suppose you did not feel it because the voluntary terms of this Bond preclude any pain to the slave."
"That's…er, good, isn't it? No pain this time round?"
Snape's finger was moving in a circle around what Harry guessed must be the brand. It was very distracting; so Harry focussed on lightning scar on Snape's neck. That looks so weird. Snape sensed the direction of his gaze and pulled away. He tugged at his collar, trying to hide it and looking very oddly self-conscious, but it wouldn't cover the whole scar.
There was an awkward silence for a minute as Snape avoided looking at Harry in the eye. Then Moody spoke. "The Wizarding World will see this as yet more Dark Magic," he said gruffly, glaring at Snape as though it was all the Potions Master's fault. Harry blushed at the protective way in which everyone was looking at him—well, all except Snape.
"Don't worry, Moody, your golden boy will not be blamed; I will," Snape replied. He was standing as stiff as a statue. Harry, on the other hand, felt like he could melt to the ground in a gooey heap, he was so tired. The Bond was exhausting him.
"You should be blamed, but Potter here just announced to the Wizarding World at his interview that he was the one who cast the original Bonding spell—"
"We will deal with that when the time comes," Dumbledore said, finally speaking. He had been quietly studying Harry and Severus all this time. "For now, both Harry and Severus need rest." He offered his arm to Harry and asked him to hold on tight during the apparation. Just before they left, Harry saw Snape and Lupin standing together, and Snape talking urgently. Curious, he leaned forward and strained his ears, giving Mr Weasley an absent-minded wave.
"But why won't you tell me—" Lupin was saying, and Snape interrupted, speaking so softly Harry only caught bits of what he was saying. Something about how no one could know, and could Lupin please shut up and do as he said.
Then he and Dumbledore reappeared outside Hogwarts' gates. Snape was right behind them.
"Wait," Harry said when they were safely within the gates, "Professor Dumbledore, before we see anyone, could I speak to Professor Snape? Alone?"
Dumbledore smiled wearily at Harry, but his eyes were still sharp and assessing as he looked at both Harry and the silent Snape. Harry wondered what he saw. "Very well, Harry, but Madam Pomfrey will not be pleased if you stay out here too long in your weakened condition."
Harry winced at the thought of the medi-witch's shrill scolding. "I'll keep that in mind, Professor." He waited until the man was gone, and then turned to the dark, still figure behind him. "I told those reporters that I was the one who cast the spell," he said. He smiled wryly. "They'll probably be calling me a Dark Wizard in tomorrow's newspaper. For now, no one will think of blaming you, hopefully, but that'll change if everyone sees you bossing me around."
Snape had been standing as still as a marble statue and just about as animated, but at this he stirred. His face twisted with some unnamed emotion, and then smoothed again.
"The Slytherins'll be after you now, too, since your position as spy is gone. All it'll take will be one word to the papers that you're hurting the Boy-Who-Lived and everyone in the Wizarding World'll be looking to hurt you."
"Is this your idea of a threat, Potter?" Snape drawled. "The sorting Hat may have wanted to put you in Slytherin, but those tendencies of yours are far too stunted to be of any use to you. You are my slave now, don't forget, if I wish to 'boss you around' without making myself a target I shall merely do it in private where no one can see."
Harry fantasised knocking some sense into Snape—very, very literally. Several hard knocks to the head. "Fine," he said through a clenched jaw. "You do that." He spun on his heel and walked away, stopping a little way away from the doors. "You know, you might have considered the possibility that I was trying to protect you, but nooo, arrogant Harry Potter can't think of anyone besides himself—" He cut off when he was grabbed from behind and spun around, then slammed into a wall.
"Watch yourself, Potter," Snape hissed. "You may find you have bitten off more than you can chew with this latest stunt. Do not expect me to be beholden to you. I am your master and you are my slave; there is an end to the matter."
Harry stared at the man in disbelief and dismay. "You don't mean that," he whispered. "You can't mean that." He took a deep, painful breath—being slammed into the wall had knocked the wind out of him. "Professor, why are you doing this? I'm not your enemy! Not very long ago I was calling you father and you were calling me—"
Quick as a viper, Snape's wand came up to touch the side of Harry's neck. Equally suddenly, Harry found himself kneeling on the ground. "I did mean it, Potter," Snape told him. For a few moments, his face showed myriad expressions that Harry could barely follow. There was regret, disgust, anger, and a few less unpleasant things he felt too raw to decipher. Instead, he shuddered—whether from Snape's wand on him or Snape's intense gaze, he didn't know. "Your brand allows me to control you this time round, as you may have deduced, Potter. And make no mistake; I will make full use of your weakness, and possibly enjoy it."
Harry had given up his pride a few minutes ago. The Bond had been feeding off of him for a while now; he felt tired enough to sleep on the cold stone floor. "Please," he said. "Don't do this. It doesn't have to be like this."
"Yes it does, Potter, and it will. What happened today changes nothing."
A suffocating darkness descended over Harry's mind. At first he thought it might be the Imperius Curse or something like it; then he realised that he'd be feeling a lot less miserable if it were. This was misery, pure and simple, an intangible agony gripping his insides and penetrating the marrow.
There were hands on him now, supporting him, lifting him up. "Go to bed, Potter." The voice came as if from far away; but even through his dark haze Harry noticed that the voice had gone very soft, as though speaking to a frightened child. The hands holding him felt nice, too.
He obeyed the glorious, silky voice and headed straight for Gryffindor Tower. Once there, he went to his dorm and fell into his bed fully dressed, having hardly noticed his friends' frantic questions. He slept like the dead through the evening and late into the morning.
The sound of his dorm-mates' friendly banter was what woke him. He sat up, blinking, and reached for his glasses. When he had put them on and looked back up, there was dead silence in the room.
"Er," he said, "good morning?"
There was a long pause, and then Neville spoke up hesitantly. "Good morning, Harry." Harry looked around for Ron. "He's in the common room," Neville added.
Harry wanted to ask why the other boys were staring at him as though he, Harry, had morphed into a werewolf while asleep, but decided to wait for Ron instead. He glanced at the clock. "I've missed the first class!" he yelped.
"Harry, mate!" Ron said, coming in with Dean, who had gone to fetch him. Harry noticed Dean wouldn't look Harry in the eye. An unpleasant foreboding swelled in the back of his mind. "Come on down before Hermione loses it over the number of classes you've missed!"
I've missed only one, Harry wanted to say, but took in Ron's forced smile and scrapped that idea too. Once he had dressed, Ron handed him a potion that had been on Harry's side table. Harry hadn't noticed it until now. "Madam Pomfrey came down here to tell us you needed to sleep as long as you could, and then have this. The house-elves are going to bring you a meal—"
Said meal appeared on a small table before the words were out of his mouth. Harry stared. Since when did the house-elves serve students food in their dorms?
"Maybe Dumbledore thought you might need some slack," Ron said unnaturally hesitantly, when Harry asked.
Harry remembered now that he was supposed to have gone to the infirmary the previous night; both he and Snape had forgotten. Madame Pomfrey never visited dorms unless there was an emergency! "Ron, what is going on?" he demanded.
Ron sighed as though giving in to the inevitable and handed Harry a copy of the Prophet.
BOY-WHO-LIVED GONE OVER TO YOU-KNOW-WHO!The headlines blared. HARRY POTTER USES DARK ARTS ON HIS PROFESSOR!
Harry slowly put the newspaper back in Ron's hands and lowered his face into his hands, not knowing whether to laugh or rage. He had joked the previous day about the Wizarding World turning against him, but seeing it happen was another thing entirely. "That's what Seamus and Dean were on about, then?" he said dully. "The whole school thinks this?"
"Well, Dumbledore announced that it was all a lie, but he did say that you were a…" Ron hesitated for a ling moment, "slave to Snape, but of your own choice, and you did it only to save him. Blimey, Harry," he added, sounding properly thunderstruck, "what a thing to do! Are you bonkers?"
Hermione's reaction was slightly more tempered with understanding, but she was just as stunned by what Harry had done. "Oh, Harry," she said, and to Harry's horror, there were tears in her eyes, "Professor Dumbledore gave me some books to read about the kind of Bond magic you tried, and it seems there's no way to break the Bond now! You and Professor Snape are already bonded by blood—"
Ron made a gagging noise. Harry smiled weakly at him. The small quantity of food he had been able to get down was sitting in his stomach like a slab of lead.
"—that's what you used to break the Bond last time," Hermione said, ignoring Ron. "You can't do that again. Even if you try another kind of Bonding, say, adoption— Harry?" She stopped in concern when Harry choked on air.
"I'm fine," he lied. Even hearing the word adoption made his stomach cramp up now, considering how he ahd begun thinking of Snape before it all went down the drain…
Hermione looked at him in her annoyingly knowing manner, but didn't comment, to Harry's relief. "Even if you try another kind of Bonding that should normally cancel a slavery Bond, it won't work on this one because Harry created it himself."
"So if he stops wanting it, he can break it?" Ron said.
"If he does, Professor Snape will die," Hermione said shakily. "Harry's Bond with him is what's stopping the effect of Voldemort's—oh, Ron, get over it!—Voldemort's Killing Curse. If the Bond is broken, the Curse will take effect, even if it's ten years from now."
Ron looked like Snape dying was a fine thing as far as he was concerned, but his face fell when he looked at Harry. "So…what does Snape say about this, then?" he said gruffly. "Has he changed his attitude? He wasn't in Potions class today; we heard he was ordered to get rest."
Harry didn't reply for a full minute. A deep ache stirred in his chest. "No, Ron," he said. "He hasn't changed his attitude. He's the same as ever. Only it feels a lot worse because…" He couldn't finish that sentence, not with Hermione's agonisingly sympathetic face before him.
Ron made a noise like a growling dog. The association was not helpful; it brought back Harry's longing for his godfather in unrelenting waves. "Will he go all fatherly again, now that this Bond's in place?"
"No, Ron," Hermione answered before Harry could. "This Bond doesn't have the same characteristics. Snape has less control over Harry. The Bond won't be pushing them to be friends with each other. Though there are some very public things you're required to do, Harry."
Harry already knew this, so he didn't ask. Ron did it for him. "What public things?"
Hermione flushed, whether from anger or mortification it was hard to tell. "Harry has to kneel to him when he sees him, even in pubic—especially in public." Ron jumped up, looking ready to explode, and began pacing the room.
"I'll bet he'll enjoy that," he said, sounding like he was gritting his teeth.
"And Harry has to…um, kiss his hand. Then he has to wait until the professor acknowledges him to get back up."
Harry looked down to find his hands clenched into fists. He really hadn't thought this through when he had cast the Bonding spell; all he had wanted to do was save Snape. "I don't regret this, Hermione," he said slowly, then put his face in his hands. "But I really don't know how I'm going to do this, especially now that he doesn't even want m—" But he didn't want to think about that now.
"You'll manage, Harry," said a new voice, and they turned to find Ginny standing there with her hands on her hips, looking remarkably like her mother. "You always do."
A curious warm feeling stole into Harry's bones at her words, and he sat up straight again, taking a deep breath. "We're with you, mate," Ron said, going a little red at his own uncharacteristic openness. The girls nodded grimly, and Harry began to grin.
"Well, then," he said, feeling grateful for the millionth time that he had such good friends, "Snape had better watch out."
A/N: Okay, so I know people don't have to be blood related for the protection-from-killing-curse-through-sacrifice thing to work, but just assume it is, okay? I always felt that made more sense, even though Harry's sacrifice in the last book did protect the whole school.
This is what happened at the climax, for those who need a detailed explanation about why AK's were flung about without anybody 'getting so much as a nosebleed': Snape and Harry mingled blood in order to break the first slave Bond. This blood link between them meant that Harry's (sacrificial) death would protect Snape. [Harry taunted Voldemort with another Bond Function—Master-drawing-strength-from-slave; which did exist, but not in the first Bond, and anyway, that Bond was gone. Harry was lying, and Snape knew it, which was why he got furious. He thought Harry would die, and for nothing.] Anyway, Voldemort zaps Harry. The blood link between them (from Book4—dear Wormtail took Harry's blood for Voldie, remember?) protects Harry from being killed by Voldemort. This happened in canon too. Voldie just cannot kill Harry.
But he did try, so the sacrifice thing works just like it did in the book. Voldie couldn't kill Snape either, here.
Ta-da.
One chapter to go. Though I may add outtakes to this story. One-shots, mostly fluff, some possible ways this story could've gone but didn't. What do you think, would you be interested? I'll also be putting up a teaser for the sequel, but the sequel itself will be some time in coming out. I have another HP/ Severitus story to finish: Fatherly Enmity. Check it out, especially after I put up the next chapters!
And please review!
