Upon hearing footsteps on the stairs, Harry closed his book and slipped it beneath the mattress. Snape did not walk as heavily as whoever was approaching. Harry sat on the edge of his bed, watching the library door with butterflies building in his stomach.

The door opened and a black-haired Death Eater Harry didn't recognise stepped in. "Come here," he said in a commanding voice and Harry slid off the bed and stepped over to the bars, putting his hands through them to be chained.

"On your knees," the Death Eater ordered without casting the chaining spell and Harry dropped down on all fours. The bars opened and he crawled through the opening, pausing outside, his eyes on the Death Eater's feet. The heavy black boots turned and walked back through the library. Harry followed behind him at a discreet distance, feeling a bit off-hinge. Why hadn't Snape arrived to fetch him?

The Death Eater trod up the stairs to the practice room where a group of four more Death Eaters were clustered in conversation. Harry sneaked glances at them, not recognising any of them, although their faces were vaguely familiar. Based on his estimate of their ages, he assumed they had graduated Hogwarts shortly after he arrived.

"Is that Potter?" one asked in an eager voice.

"Yeah, followed me like a dog up from the cellar," said the one who had fetched him.

A heavyset one in large robes stepped over for a better look. "Why's he starkers?"

"You haven't heard?" the eager-voiced one asked as he walked over to stand before Harry. His boots were scruffy, the bottom of his robes was slightly torn and covered with spatters of mud. "Snape's buggering him."

"You're taking the piss. Snape's a shirt lifter?"

"Nah, I bet he just does it 'cause he can't get any otherwise," one said and the rest of them laughed. He continued on, "Can you imagine someone desperate enough to fuck that ugly prick? I bet Potter's the only bit of arse he's ever had."

Harry was burning with anger. He hoped Snape would return and overhear all the cack they were saying about him. Harry held himself steady and kept his face carefully blank, repressing the urge to leap to his feet and punch them all in their smug faces.

One of them made a noise of disgust. "That better be it. Our parents wouldn't have let him teach us if they knew he was a fucking nonce."

"Ooh…." The heavy-set one shivered theatrically. "Don't say that! You'll give me nightmares!"

One of the Death Eaters walked around Harry as if evaluating him. Harry watched him as best he could with his head bowed. He had the feeling that this Death Eater was the ringleader and therefore, the most likely to attack him first.

"It's a shame we aren't allowed to cast anything painful on you," the ringleader said as he walked. "But no one ever said we couldn't use other methods."

He finally paused on Harry's right side, and one of the heavy boots slammed into Harry’s ribs, nearly knocking him over. Harry held himself in place and ignored the pain in his side, determined not to give the Death Eater the satisfaction of a reaction.

"You're pathetic!" He kicked Harry in the ribs again, harder, knocking him off balance. Harry caught himself with his left hand, keeping his face blank as if the kicks were nothing. "Gonna defeat the Dark Lord now? You're nothing but a fuck toy to Snape." He spat the name as if it had a foul taste.

Harry sat without moving.

"Oi! I'm talking to you!" The Death Eater stomped over and stood in front of Harry. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Harry kept his eyes on the floor. He wasn't technically being disobedient, since Snape had told him to never look a Death Eater in the eyes and Snape surely had a higher rank than these wankers. He knew he’d receive pain for his defiance, but he refused to treat them with respect, not after what they had just said.

The Death Eater swore and aimed another kick at Harry. Harry had to clamp down on his impulse to roll away from it, holding himself firm as the boot slammed into his nose and bones crunched against each other. Hot, blinding pain strummed through his body and it took all of his concentration to remain upright on his hands and knees. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and let the pain roll over him, momentarily unable to focus on anything but his agony. He couldn't breathe through his ruined nose and blood was streaming down the back of his throat, choking him. He opened his mouth to breathe and blood poured into his mouth, wetting his tongue. He ignored it, all of his focus devoted to keeping himself steady and not collapsing on the floor and curling up in a protective ball like he wanted. Someone kicked him hard in his left thigh and he crumbled to the floor, momentarily overcome with pain.

One of them commanded, “Get up,” as if he were just being lazy. Another boot slammed into his left rib cage as the words were repeated. "Get up!"

Determined not to let them see how much their blows were injuring him, Harry struggled up onto his hands and knees. He had just managed to right himself when something hard and heavy slammed into his right side and he lost control, falling back over, the wind knocked out of him.

“On your knees, you little shit,” ordered the dark-haired one with a sneer.

They didn't think he could do it. They were giving him orders they thought would be ignored in the hopes of punishing him for his disobedience. The knowledge of it made the struggle to his hands and knees a battle of will. He would do it, just because they were sure that he couldn't. With all of his strength, Harry pushed himself back up onto all fours. Adrenaline surged through him, masking the pain and giving him momentary elation. On his hands and knees, surrounded by enemies, he gasped and bled, the blood from his nose spattering the carpet, but he felt stronger than he'd ever felt.

"Bloody hell, he's a mess," commented the heavy-set one. "Guess he's used to this by now."

"We'll just have to do something else," said the ringleader. Harry heard the sound of a belt buckle being removed and he swore to himself that if they tried to force him to suck dick, he'd bite it off.

The ringleader stepped forward and placed his boot over Harry's left hand. The weight of his body smashed the digits into the carpet, but the pain barely registered with Harry as he held himself stationary, refusing to lift his head. He recognised the sound of the belt flying through the air only seconds before it hit his spine between his shoulders. Vernon had belted him a few times and he took the lashes as he always did -- silent and without any sign of pain. Despite the leather biting into his skin, the blood streaming down his face, the sharp pain in his nose, the dull ache in his ribs, he felt triumphant. The line from Snape's poem, 'my head is bloody but unbowed,' repeated in his head over and over again. He wanted them to kick him so that he could get up again. He would show them that nothing they could do to him could ever break him.

“Cheeky little bastard," panted the ringleader, out of breath from the whipping. He released Harry's hand, taking a step back. Another kick in the ribs sent him sprawling across the carpet. He rolled over onto his hands and knees without being prompted and forced his pain-filled limbs to obey him as he pushed himself upright yet again. The circle tightened around him and a boot stamped down on his left leg.

“Get away from him.” Snape’s voice could’ve frozen hell.

The Death Eaters scattered and Harry saw Snape stride across the room, a black cloud of anger. He knelt before Harry, the familiar vial of the painkiller in his hand. Harry opened his mouth and accepted several gulps of it. He knew he shouldn’t look at Snape’s eyes in front of the other Death Eaters, but when Snape gently pushed up his chin and waved his wand before Harry’s face, healing his nose and removing the blood, Harry glanced at Snape’s face to see it twisted and dark with fury, his eyes burning. It was the same look Snape wore whenever he was furious with Harry and Harry had never been so glad to see it.

After healing Harry's nose, Snape released Harry's chin and shifted to examine his back. His magic flowed through Harry's back, reducing the pain to a minor ache.

Snape asked in a cold, angry tone, “Where else are you injured?”

“My ribs, Master,” Harry said, sitting back to expose his chest to Snape.

Snape's dark eyes scanned Harry's torso as his magic pushed into Harry's body, checking the extent of the injuries. Apparently, no ribs were broken, because Snape stood, stepping close to Harry, his leg pressed firmly against Harry's side while his robes draped over Harry as if to shield him from the Death Eaters. Harry rested in Snape's shadow as the painkiller eased the hurt of his ribs and limbs. He discretely watched the Death Eaters who were frozen like hares at the smell of a fox.

“Who is responsible for this?” Snape’s voice hadn’t lost any of its anger or ice. Harry relished it, knowing Snape would punish them for hurting him.

The Death Eaters all shifted uneasily instead of answering.

“Crucio!” Snape snarled as he cast on each of them in turn and they fell to the floor, screaming and writhing in pain.

“My father-!” yelled one of them when Snape finally released them.

“Your father," growled Snape, "would Crucio you himself if he knew you were disobeying the Dark Lord’s direct orders. Of all-"

“Disobeying? We didn’t-” a Death Eater asked, his voice shaking.

“Didn’t think,” Snape said in the same tone he used when insulting Harry in the classroom. “You stupid-”

“What’s happening, Severus?” Several more Death Eaters entered from the throne room. Snape stepped away from Harry toward the incoming Death Eaters. He pointed his wand back at Harry, and Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Muffliato was cast towards him. Snape turned his head to face the Death Eaters as soon as he had cast.

Harry wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was because he had spent most of the day dodging Snape’s spells. Perhaps it was because Snape had turned away and he knew he’d get away with it. Whatever the reason, he ducked, pressing his head low to the floor as if he was bowing. He felt the spell pass over him, the tingle of electricity making his heart freeze as it nearly struck his right foot. However, the buzzing never filled his ears and he knew he had successfully evaded the spell. Raising his head as far as he dared, he sneaked a glance up at the Death Eaters through his fringe.

“Your son hurt the slave,” Snape told a bearded Death Eater who stood beside the ringleader. “He is not to be touched before the Dark Lord arrives.”

“You idiot,” the father smacked his son on the back of his head. “Do you want to be Crucio’d?!”

“I’m sorry, dad,” the dark-haired one apologised in a voice that made him sound as if he were still at Hogwarts.

“Go away,” the father commanded with a wave of his hand. . “And stay out of trouble.”

The younger Death Eaters slunk off together.

Snape conjured the leather leash and collar for Harry and tugged on it before leading Harry over to his favourite chair. He warned, “It is dangerous to allow him to defy the Dark Lord,” as he took his seat. Harry perched at Snape’s feet, keeping his eyes focused on the carpet.

The five Death Eaters with him took their seats as well. The father sat beside Snape in a high-backed chair, waving away Snape’s concern with his hand.

“If he has earned the Dark Lord’s wrath he will be punished and that will be enough to dissuade him.”

“If you feel that is wise,” Snape said, his voice rife with doubt.

“If I coddle him he will never be a man.,” the Death Eater said. “He killed three Mudbloods that were hiding in London last weekend.”

“Very nice,” complimented Snape. “I thought they had all left the country.”

“No, many of them are still around,” broke in one of the Death Eaters on the couch. “Some of them still think their saviour boy’s going to come rescue them.”

“They’re fools.” Snape’s fingers carded through Harry’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. Harry closed his eyes and leaned against Snape’s leg, enjoying the caresses. He had had no idea petting could feel so good. “The sooner they realise the Dark Lord will never be defeated, the better off we will all be.”

“That may be so for you, Severus,” spoke the deep-voiced Death Eater who had taken a chair on the opposite side of Snape. “But I enjoy the hunt. I hope this ‘resistance’ continues for some time.”

“I hope to partake in more myself, Mulciber,” Snape said. “By the way, how is your son? My post is very unreliable and I’ve yet to receive a reply to the last letter I sent.”

“He returned from North America this afternoon and should arrive with the Dark Lord tonight,” Mulciber said.

“I look forward to seeing him.”

“How goes the movement across the pond?” asked a Death Eater with a scratchy voice. “Have the Yanks and Canadians seen reason yet?”

“We have several dedicated supporters, but you know Pureblood is rather rare over there.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that Canada and the States are full of half-bloods and Mudbloods,” agreed another Death Eater, his voice thick with disgust. “It’s sick how they’ve allowed their lines to become tainted.”

Snape’s fingers continued stroking the back of Harry’s neck without pause as if he wasn’t being insulted right to his face. Perhaps they didn’t know about Snape’s heritage. Bellatrix hadn’t known that Voldemort was a half-blood.

“It’s true, I’ve been there. Dirty, noisy place,” said the gravely-voiced Death Eater.

“My son has made contact with a loyal group of Purebloods who’ve kept their lines clean for generations,” Mulciber informed them. “They are more than willing to reclaim the country for the Dark Lord. He tells me several have offered to come to England to fight.”

“We don’t need them,” the father said.

“Don’t be so hasty, Molock,” chastised the deep-voiced Death Eater. “We may not need them to aid us in military matters, but I have two daughters who are looking for nice Pureblood lads for marriage. I’d rather not have a Yank for a son-in-law, but if it’s a Yank or a half-blood, I’ll take the Yank.”

“What about Corson?” Snape asked. “Doesn’t he have a son your eldest daughter’s age?”

“You know how picky Carina is,” sighed the Death Eater. “Wants only the best. Takes too much after her mother.”

All the Death Eaters made noises of sympathy. Harry listened incredulously while one of the Death Eaters told a hilarious story about his wife and her fondness for buying new furniture and rearranging the house without consulting him. Unfortunately, she had unknowingly purchased end tables from two different estates which were in conflict and the pieces engaged in a brawl in the sitting room. The Death Eaters all laughed at the tale and even Harry had to swallow back a few smiles. It was strange to be reminded of the humanity of his enemies. They had all become interchangeable under their black robes to him, and now, as he heard them chatting about their families, he remembered that they had loved ones too. He didn’t like it. Killing a father, a child, a spouse, a sibling…. Murdering someone with a name and family was very different from killing a nameless individual he had never seen before. He wondered if that was why Snape used Muffliato on him. He tried to tune out the rest of their conversation, only half-listening as the Death Eaters discussed the upcoming marriage of one of the scratchy-voiced Death Eater's daughters.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before Snape stood and told the others, “The Dark Lord has arrived.”

Harry crawled after him as he and the Death Eaters walked into the throne room where the younger Death Eaters were waiting. The main doors swung open and Voldemort strode in, followed by several black-clad individuals. Harry pressed his head down to the floor in a bow while all the other Death Eaters in the room bowed at once.

“Severus.” Voldemort’s high voice was cold. “You allowed them to start without me?”

“No, my Lord,” Snape said. “The youths fetched him from his cage without my permission.”

“Crucio!” Harry listened with satisfaction to their screams. Wimps. He could handle Voldemort’s Cruciatus without screaming. As he listened, he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Nagini sliding across the floor. It was difficult for him to hide his delight. They had done it! Voldemort was convinced Harry was broken! Voldemort stepped away, Nagini trailing after him. Snape turned and crossed the room to an individual who walked over to greet him. Harry wanted to stay and watch Nagini, but the collar and leash forced him to follow.

“Severus!”

“Seth.”

They clasped hands in greeting.

“How have you been?” Seth asked, delight evident in his voice.

“I’ve been well.” Snape began to walk back to the practice room, pulling Harry along with him. “And yourself?”

“Couldn’t be better,” Seth answered with excitement. “I’ve found several supporters for Him in the States and a whole colony in Canada. It's very different than here in ways I think you will find intriguing. But more importantly, I met the most enchanting witch. She has this Southern accent I just love to listen to and she is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She's also madly in love with me.”

Snape chuckled. “Only you, Seth. I’m surprised she didn’t return with you.”

Harry crawled faster in order to hear better, intrigued by their conversation. He assumed Seth to be the son of Mulciber with whom Snape had been exchanging letters. He had never heard anyone else speak to Snape with such warmth and friendship. It was strange to learn that Snape had friends among the Death Eaters. Originally, Harry had sort of suspected that was the case, as Lucius had always seemed friendly with Snape when he visited Hogwarts for Quidditch matches. However, during his imprisonment, Snape had been very antagonistic towards all the other Death Eaters, even Lucius.

“She wanted to, but her father forbade it. He’s very old-fashioned.” Mulciber said as he plucked a glass of wine off one of the salvers that were floating around and then settled into a comfortable position on the couch.

Snape chose a glass for himself and took his favourite chair again. Harry returned to his spot at his feet. “I’ll be glad once the Dark Lord relaxes his restrictions and I am able to travel again. You can’t imagine what it is like to be stuck in here with unreliable owls.”

“I’d prefer not to imagine,” Mulciber said. “However, you’ve earned yourself quite a prize for it.”

“Yes, I have,” said Snape and Harry felt their eyes on him. “It’s the only reason I haven’t left.”

“He's quite a docile thing. His father had a lot more spirit.”

“So did he, originally.” Snape placed his finger under Harry’s chin and tilted up his head. Harry kept his eyes on the floor, pretending he didn’t hear a thing. “He put up quite a fight.”

“You must’ve enjoyed that."

Snape released Harry’s chin and trailed his fingers through Harry’s hair. Harry pressed into Snape's long fingers again, and lowered his head so that Snape could stroke the nape of his neck. “You have no idea.”

“So you’ve finished training him?”

“Hardly, it will be many more years before my goal is reached.”

“Years? What is your goal?”

“I intend to castrate him,” Snape answered in a cold voice. Harry had to struggle very hard to keep his face blank and not cup his hands protectively over his genitals. His balls felt tight as if they were trying to retreat back into his body to hide. Castration? Snape couldn’t be telling the truth.

Mulciber gave a low whistle. “When you get revenge, Severus, you get revenge,” he said with awe. “Has the Dark Lord not given you permission yet?”

“I am allowed," Snape nodded. "Provided I sedate him through the recovery. I’m waiting for the slave to ask for it first however.”

“Ask for it?” Mulciber nearly choked on his wine. “You’re crazy. No man will ever ask for that.”

“He will.” Snape’s voice was full of confidence. “You’d be amazed for what he will ask.”

Snape had to be lying; putting on a show for Mulciber rather than expressing what he really believed. He knew Harry highly valued his own genitals and would never ask for them to be removed. Not to mention that, despite all appearances, he wasn't an obedient slave. If Snape tried to feed him like a dog when Voldemort wasn't around, he'd get bitten. Harry would be submissive to Snape and allow himself to be treated as a pet or an object in the throne room, but never outside of it and Snape knew that.

“Have you killed the werewolf yet?” asked Mulciber.

“I have been unable to hunt for him while positioned here. Maybe I will have the slave finish him off as proof of his loyalty to me.”

Harry held back his shiver. Snape was so good at playing the villain; he was almost fooled by it. Snape had proven himself too adept at killing people from a distance without getting caught for Harry to believe that Professor Lupin had survived this long due to Snape’s inability to murder him.

Mulciber chuckled. “I really have to hand it to you. You’re quite inventive.”

“I’ve been planning since he arrived at Hogwarts with his father’s face. But enough of that, I’m curious to learn more about your trip. Does the Dark Lord intend to take control of both continents?”

“I don’t ask the details. I just do as he commands,” Mulciber told him. “However, I don’t think he will be expanding his territory across the Atlantic for some time. His support over there was always rather spotty and most wizards already live in isolation from Muggles in self-sustaining colonies. You probably already know the truth about the Amish and the Hutterites, but it goes beyond that. Kansas looks boring and empty until they tell you the revelation spells and some of the cities they have in Canada are amazing. Oh, and before I forget….” He reached into his robes and retrieved a package, handing it to Snape. “More New World poisons. These are from the Eastern Provinces.”

“Thank you.” Snape tucked the box in his robes. “As I said in my letter, the other specimens you sent me were greatly appreciated. The Dark Lord was most pleased by the potions I brewed for him.”

“Yes, he mentioned that to me. Thank you for telling him that I had acquired the ingredients for you. You’ve been very helpful. Which reminds me….” He sat forward on the sofa. “What’s happened between you and Avery?”

Snape made a noise of disgust.

“Don’t tell me this is related to when he claimed credit for your kill. That was a long time ago.”

“He hasn’t changed. Ever since we were children he's been claiming credit for my accomplishments. I tolerated it then for the sake of our friendship, but I will no longer allow him to take what’s mine.”

“The slave belongs to the Dark Lord, not you,” Mulciber countered. “He-”

“But I have been granted custody of him due to my faithful service. Avery decided that he wanted to take the slave and tried to do so in front of the Dark Lord in order to prevent me from stopping him. I defended myself, regaining the Dark Lord's favour in the process. Afterwards, he demanded access to the slave from me for no other reason than his own sense of self-entitlement. When I continued to refuse - as is my right - he conspired with others to have me removed from my post. Successfully removed,” Snape emphasized, “which endangered my work for the Dark Lord. Avery could not properly manage the slave and I returned to my post on the Dark Lord's orders. Despite the fact that his problems are nothing but the result of his own ineptitude, he informs anyone who will listen to him that I am training the slave to kill the Dark Lord. There are far too many who believe him.”

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Snape had been friends with Avery before Avery tried to rape Harry? As he thought over what happened on that terrible day when Snape raped him, he remembered how angry Avery had been about the whole affair. He remembered how hard Avery had tried to gain control of him afterwards when the Death Eater had never shown any inclination to do so before. Had Snape really made an enemy out of one of his few friends in order to protect Harry from being raped by a sadist?

Mulciber snorted. “You can’t be serious. You are the most loyal man I've ever met.”

“There are few who agree with you,” Snape said, his body going tense. “Ask him yourself if you disbelieve me. The simple matter is he wants the slave because he feels, as a Pureblood, that he is more deserving of him. I’ve gone through too much hell to give up my prize. Potter is mine and I will not share him nor allow anyone to take him from me,” Snape declared, his voice hard and his fingers tight on the back of Harry’s neck.

The possessiveness and conviction in Snape's voice sent an unexpected thrill through Harry. Snape had lied and claimed that he hadn’t killed Hathaway for sexually abusing Harry, but there was no doubt about it now. Harry had nothing to fear from the others as long as Snape remained in Voldemort's favour, and Snape was powerful enough and clever enough to remain there indefinitely. When Snape lifted his hand to continue stroking Harry's nape, Harry leaned against his leg, nuzzling his knee.

“I heard that you had turned into a queer, Severus, but-”

“It isn’t anything like that,” Snape countered. “I fuck him only because of what he represents. Besides, until recently, the Dark Lord has only allowed his closest circle to visit here and I refuse to be celibate. I intend to visit our dear friend Phryne as soon as I’m able.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Mulciber, relaxing back against the sofa. “I could use a good fuck.”

“The Southern Belle left you disappointed?” asked Snape.

“She wishes to be a virgin until marriage."

Snape scoffed. "Knowing you, that won't last."

"Actually, I do want to marry her,” Mulciber said, his voice soft.

Snape nearly dropped his wine glass. “You aren’t serious.”

“I am.” Mulciber said. "And not because of the restriction, if that is what you're imagining. Merlin, Severus, she's perfect: witty, devoted, kind- Don't give me that look."

"You swore you'd die before you ever married."

Mulciber chuckled. "That was a long time ago. I've grown up since then. I didn't know her then. I'm sick of being single. I want someone who I can share my life with. I swear to you, if she asked for me to never fuck another girl, I'd do it if it meant she'd stay with me."

Snape gave a snort of disbelief.

"If you pulled your head out of your lab for ten minutes and gave a girl a chance, you might feel the same way. We’re not getting any younger and I’d like to have children before I’m too old to properly teach my boys how to duel.” He leaned forward again and his tone of voice changed to one of pleading and concern. “Come back with me to America, Severus. The ladies there love our accents and you’d have no problem finding a nice Pureblood or even half-blood woman to marry you. Forget the past. Forget him.” He motioned to Harry. “These ghosts will always haunt you unless you let them go. Don’t waste your life on revenge.”

“I appreciate your concern, but I don’t feel my life has been wasted,” Snape said, his voice cold.

Mulciber threw up his hands in an expression of surrender and leaned back on the couch. “It was just a suggestion. You should at least come to harvest the plants which need to be processed immediately after plucking. In that box I put a list of specimens I wasn’t able to collect for that reason. You know how rubbish I am at potions.”

“I remember." In a warmer voice, Snape added, "I wouldn’t trust anything prepared by you. Do you believe the Dark Lord will send you back?”

“I have requested it and I am fairly sure he will. If he is to have any-”

“Is this where you’ve been hiding the pet?” Bellatrix’s sing-songy voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Harry.

“Bellatrix!” Mulciber stood and moved to greet her. Snape remained in his chair and Harry stayed in his position, his back to Bellatrix.

“You will have to tell me about your trip later. It’s my turn to have fun with the pet tonight. You haven’t taught him very well, Severus,” she complained. “He should show respect to his betters.”

Snape stood. “He can’t hear you. I use a spell to prevent him from overhearing our conversations.”

“Why would you do that? Didn't you claim he was broken?” Bellatrix asked waspishly.

“Many reasons,” Snape answered. “But most importantly, to prevent him from being used to pass information within our group or outside of it, should he ever be rescued.”

“You are so paranoid.” She snatched the leash from him and tugged hard on it. Harry fell backwards, catching himself and rolling onto his hands and knees as he did so. He stared at her robes with wide eyes as if he hadn’t expected to see her there. “Come, pet, let’s have some fun with you.” She strode towards the throne room, pulling hard on the leash while Harry scrambled to keep up.

He was led before the throne on which Voldemort rested. He looked around for Nagini as best he could with his head lowered, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. As soon as Voldemort’s robes entered his range of vision, he immediately bowed low to the floor. Bellatrix hadn’t been expecting it and her steps faltered as she was caught off guard when Harry stopped moving. She couldn’t yell at him or find fault for bowing to the Dark Lord, so she pretended as if she had intended to stop and he hadn’t stopped her. He kept his smile from his face. He enjoyed controlling them in such small ways, but it was risky to continue and he had already stood up to the young Death Eaters this evening. He resolved to be more obedient than ever for the rest of the night to make sure they were all convinced he had been broken.

“Thank you for this gift, my Lord,” she purred, her voice filled with awe and lust. Harry inwardly rolled his eyes. She had earned this reward and yet she was acting as if Voldemort had given it to her because he favoured her.

“I appreciate your efforts, Bella,” Voldemort responded with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Enjoy your reward.”

“I will, my Lord.” She stepped away and removed the leash and collar with a flick of her wand. “Crucio!”

Harry let himself yell out in pain and writhe on the floor. He must have got used to the Cruciatus, or the painkiller was still affecting his system, because it didn’t hurt as it had in the beginning when he could barely think of anything but the pain. Either way, he was glad that Bellatrix was so boringly predictable. Voldemort entered his mind and he gave him memories of past tortures as Bellatrix kept casting on him. When she stopped casting, his body shook uncontrollably from the spell.

“Come here, pet.” Her tone could almost be considered affectionate.

As Harry was facing away from her, he pretended that he didn’t hear her. She hissed in agitation and strode around to stand in front of him.

“Come here!” said Bellatrix as she stomped her foot and jabbed her wand towards the floor.

Harry tried to crawl across the floor to her, but his limbs refused to move correctly and it took a lot of effort to move just an arm span forward.

“Quicker, pet.” She flicked her wand and his cheek split open. He kept crawling forward as she flicked her wand again and again and more of his skin broke open. He finally reached her feet and pressed his forehead against the cool marble, hoping she was pacified. “We should have him serve us. It seems a waste to have a slave and not work him. Crucio!”

Harry screamed with the pain of it. He retreated behind his walls and tried to shut out his hurt as she cast again and again. The torture sessions had never lasted very long, but now that Voldemort thought Harry was cowed, he appeared to be in no hurry to leave.

Finally, Voldemort’s cold voice rang out. “That will be enough for tonight, Bella. I must be off.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” She was worse than a cat in heat.

Someone knelt by Harry, but he was too tired to open his eyes. A vial pressed against his lips and he drank gratefully. When the bottle left his mouth, he let his body go limp, pretending that he had already passed out. Bellatrix's heels clicked against the floor as she left, other footsteps following hers. Cool fingers pressed against Harry's neck and he knew from the touch that Snape was kneeling by him.

“Oh, and Severus?” Harry felt Snape’s body tense against his own when Voldemort spoke his name. “I grow bored of these scenes of romance. He trusts you completely now, does he not?"

"Yes, my Lord," answered Snape. "The training sessions have worked better than expected."

"And you do have the ability to treat him cruelly without losing his trust?"

"With limits, my Lord, but for the most part, yes."

"Then show me degradation. Show me how much you can debase him and still have him crawl back to you.”

“I will, my Lord,” Snape smoothly responded, his body relaxing. Harry felt the tendrils of Mobilicorpus lift him before he passed out.

~

He woke in the bathtub. Snape wore only a white t-shirt and black trousers. His hair was pulled back, revealing an intense concentration on his face as he rubbed a flannel over Harry’s left foot.

“Are they gone?” he asked, trying to remember why he was in the bathtub. It was very familiar yet his muddled brain didn’t work.

Snape frowned at him. “You have the fastest metabolism of anyone I’ve met. You shouldn’t be awake.”

Oh, yeah, the Cruciatus. “I don’t want to be asleep,” Harry explained around a yawn. The water in the tub was warm and very relaxing.

The flannel slowly worked up Harry’s leg. “You need to rest in order for your body to heal.”

“You’ll heal me,” Harry said.

“Yes, but you will not be able to train at all tomorrow unless you allow this potion to calm down your nociceptors,” Snape gently chided him.

“I like training.”

“I know.”

“It’s my favourite thing to do.”

“I’m well aware of that.” Snape’s voice was rich and warm like hot cocoa.

“’Cept when I lose.”

“You have only yourself to blame.” The flannel worked up Harry’s chest.

“I really wanted to win that one, too,” Harry complained.

Snape’s left arm stretched out in front of Harry. “Lean against my arm.”

Harry leaned forward, resting his head on Snape's shoulder. Snape held him steady as he began to rub the potion into Harry’s back. Harry closed his eyes and relaxed into the embrace, breathing in the smell of Snape.

“Why did Voldemort ask if I trust you?” he murmured into Snape's shoulder.

The flannel stopped moving. “What did you say?”

Harry reluctantly pulled his head back in order to speak more clearly. “Voldemort said that he's bored of romance and he wanted to know if I trusted you. Why did he say that?”

“I’m surprised you heard him say that,” Snape said as the flannel began to move again.

“I heard a lot of things.”

After a pause, Snape explained, “I did not want to be cruel to you in the bedroom, but the Dark Lord would have become suspicious if I treated you kindly. I told him that I would be kind to you in order to make you more submissive.”

“And now you’re going to be mean to me?”

Snape gently laid Harry back down in the tub and began to work the potion into his right arm. “In the memories I show to him, I will be as cruel as is necessary.”

“But not elsewhere?”

“No.”

“I’m not giving you head if you’re mean to me,” Harry insisted. “I don’t care what I promised.”

Snape cast the Bubblehead Charm. “Go to sleep now.” He manoeuvred Harry so that the young wizard’s body was completely submerged in the milky liquid. There was no point in staying awake, so Harry fell asleep.

[[I've noticed there is quite a difference in fics with how much abuse writers believe Harry suffered at the hands of the Dursleys. Some fics seem to view it as simple neglect, while others have large quantities of physical abuse and even some sexual. While I don't think the Dursleys were ever 'A Child Called 'It'' level-abusive, there are several indications that they were physically abusive. In HBP, it says, "Harry ran down the stairs two at a time, coming to an abrupt halt several steps from the bottom, as long experience had taught him to remain out of arm's reach of his uncle whenever possible." This occurs when Dumbledore has arrived to fetch Harry. This indicates to me that if Harry is worried about Vernon's reach in front of guests, he probably had to be even more careful when company was not around.]]

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