A Hiding To Nothing 1/11

[meri_oddities]

Well, I got everything done, so here is part 1 of the new story. As I said, although I'm posting in parts, this story is complete, and the final beta is nearly done.

Title: A Hiding To Nothing (1/11)
Author: Meri
Email: Meri_oddities@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Summary: Snape is sentenced to life as an indentured servant to Harry Potter. They both have to learn to live with the consequences.

Disclaimer: I know these characters and this world belongs to JK Rowling, and that I am using them without permission. I'm not making any money from my writings.

Many thanks to snapetoy, cordelia_v, snakeling, and bethbethbeth for above and beyond story beta. And many thanks to maaseru for her usual brilliant edit.



A Hiding to Nothing
By Meri

To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.
Gilbert K. Chesterton

Part 1

"It is the decision of this court that Severus Snape is remanded over to the custody of Harry Potter as an indentured servant for the rest of his life. He will lose all rights and privileges inherent to a member of Wizarding society."

For one second, the shock of the verdict held Snape perfectly still, but then he sighed, disappointed. He should have known better than to think he'd somehow be forgiven for his past. As he was brought forward, his hands bound in front of him, Potter scowled at him. Snape glared back, ineffectually perhaps, but he would never allow himself to be cowed.

"On your knees, Snape," the guard said, his wand drawn. His hand went to Snape's shoulder, pressing him down.

Snape's first inclination was to resist, to rail against this latest ignominy, but it would be futile. Best save his energy for a fight he had a hope in hell of winning.

Potter took his wand out, too.

Gritting his teeth, Snape knelt.

It was better than a death sentence at forty. Where there was life, there was hope. A magical tingle went through him. He felt the spell settle. It made him incapable of hurting Potter in any way. It was permanent, too. Even if he got out of this, he'd still never be able to pay Potter back for what was coming.

A second spell was cast. This one was the tracking spell. There would be nowhere he could run to in the world that Potter couldn't track him down within a few minutes. He could only hope that if the chance came for him to escape, that Potter wouldn't care enough to go after him.

"Get up," Potter ordered, sounding as if he hadn't enjoyed having his mean, old teacher at his feet.

"Do as your master says," the guard said, poking him with his wand.

Snape climbed slowly to his feet. Master? Not Potter. Never. He might not be able to fight outwardly, but there were ways of making Potter pay for this humiliation. And Snape planned to use every one of them to make this experience as unpleasant for Potter as it was going to be for him.

Potter took his arm and Apparated them without giving Snape any warning. He opened his eyes and found himself in a surprisingly comfortable sitting room. A big fireplace dominated the wall across from them, two chairs and a matching sofa sat in front of it.

"Did you buy the books with the house?" Snape asked, taking in the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that ran along the entire length of one wall. "I hadn't realized you even knew how to read."

Potter's eyes flashed with fury. "You know, I can't believe you're stupid enough to try to provoke me. I own your life."

"Forgive me for not being impressed that a nineteen-year-old boy --"

"Shut it, Snape. You're not going to goad me into killing you. No matter how much I might like to."

"Why not?" Because, really, Snape could make this a whole lot worse if Potter wanted.

Potter looked at him and smiled. "I'm not going to let you off that easily. I want you to suffer. And you will."

Fabulous, Snape thought. "Do you think I'm going to do anything you ask? Surely, you're not that stupid. Oh, wait. You're Harry Potter. You define stupidity."

"You'd better get used to doing what I want, Snape. This is your life now." It was rather surprising that Potter wasn't more gleeful about it.

Snape shrugged. He didn't care. His one goal in life now was to make Potter as miserable as he was. "Do your worst."

"Come with me," Potter ordered.

Snape thought about refusing, which would be futile with a Wizard who could move him. He followed Potter silently out of the room and across the polished wooden floor of the entryway, into a modern looking Muggle kitchen. Who knew Potter was well off enough to afford such luxury?

They went down a flight of stairs, and at the back of the house, Potter stopped. "You're in here." The door opened to an empty room, bare, in fact, to the bricks. The floor was stone, and there was a pile of blankets on the floor.

"My, what luxury," Snape said, stepping into the room.

"Take off your clothes."

That startled Snape. "Why Potter, I didn't know you cared."

"Not if you were the last Wizard on the planet." Harry took out his wand and snapped out a phrase too fast for Snape to catch.

His clothes disappeared down to his pants. He resisted the urge to cover himself. His body, never beautiful to start with, was emaciated and dirty from his stint in Azkaban.

"Still not washing your smalls." Potter laughed nastily.

Snape bit his lip, saying nothing. He hated Potter in that moment more than he had before, which, all things considered, was quite a lot.

"These are for you. Too bad they're not black, but you know, prison clothes don't come in that color."

A pile of mud gray clothes were thrust into his hands. Potter raised his wand and said, "Go to bed, you bastard. You'll have a lot to do in the morning and you need your rest. Nox."

The door shut. Snape tried it, and was not surprised to find it locked. There was a bit of light in the room from the high window. It was likely spelled so that he couldn't break it. Moving to the wall, he reached up and tapped it with a finger. A mild shock hit him.

The door opened. "You can't get out," Potter said, smirking at him. "The only way out is feet first. And as I said, that's not one of your options."

Snape said nothing, trying to maintain what was left of his dignity as Potter's smirk faded to disgust, and he left.

For the next few minutes, Snape examined the walls and floor and ceiling, looking for possible means of escape, should that prove possible. There were none. Not that it would matter. With no money or contacts, he had nowhere to go. Given Potter's attitude right now, he'd probably chase Snape down to the ends of the earth and drag him back for the sport of it.

He felt as if the world were closing in on him. He was suddenly exhausted, and he sat down on the pallet.

Although he hadn't expected to be exonerated, he also hadn't expected to be convicted like a common Death Eater who hadn't worked for the side of Light. Dumbledore had left testimony, saying that he'd ordered Snape to do what he'd done. That Snape had been a loyal servant of the Light. The Wizengamot had ruled it inadmissible. Everyone knew, of course, but no one cared.

Snape sighed again, lying down in the bedding. At least it was warmer here than Azkaban. And perhaps safer. There were no Death Eaters trying to get even with him for betraying their Lord. Those in Azkaban were now bound to the place, their magic stripped from them. They were less than squibs. At least, he'd been spared that, too. Even if they'd made a show of breaking his wand, his magic had been left intact.

He snorted to himself. What he had was one enraged nineteen-year-old boy with dominion over every aspect of his life, and free rein to do as he pleased. A boy he had abused and protected alternatively for six years. Maybe Azkaban would be safer.

Snape woke to the sound of Potter's voice ordering him to, "Get up."

Opening his eyes, Snape was greeted by the unwelcome sight of Potter standing in his doorway, dressed in his Auror-trainee robes.

"Get up, you lazy bastard. There's no laying around while I have to go to work." Potter scowled at him.

"Lying," Snape corrected automatically.

"What?" Potter looked apoplectic.

More alert now, Snape realized his error, but Potter's language skills had always been appalling. "I said --"

"You're not the teacher here. In fact, you're nothing. Less than nothing." And Potter sounded as if that pleased him.

No doubt it did. Snape tried not to care. He bit his lip to remain silent. The only way to get through this was to try not to provoke Potter. It was a good idea in theory, but he suspected the practice was going to be difficult.

"Get up and get dressed." Potter folded his arms over his chest.

"And if I don't?" Snape didn't move. He was warm and relatively comfortable, something he hadn't been in a very long time. If he could arrange it, he'd like a few more hours sleep. And, it was impossible not to push Potter.

For one second, Potter didn't look sure how to answer that, but his jaw tightened and he scowled again. "Then I'll cast Petrificus, and dress you myself. You won't enjoy it. I guarantee that."

Snape supposed that he wouldn't. "Fine. Leave and I'll dress."

Potter's eyes narrowed in a way that Snape already knew didn't bode well. "You have no right to expect privacy from me. I own your miserable hide. I might as well see what it looks like."

Pretending that he didn't care, Snape rose from the bedding with as much grace as he could manage. He reached for the clothes he'd dumped on the floor next to his pallet the night before. The draw-string in the trousers' waist were all that kept them on his hips. The shirt said 'Property of Harry Potter' on the pocket. It made Snape want to laugh. Or cry.

"God, you're an ugly bastard, aren't you?"

There was nothing Snape could say to the truth.

Potter wasn't looking for conversation, anyway. "I have a list of chores for you to do today. Not only that, I want you to bathe, and wash that greasy hair. It's disgusting, even for you."

He wondered if Potter thought there were any kind of amenities in Azkaban. But even as much as he'd like a bath, it seemed like too much of a concession. However, he did need to use the facilities. "Where is the toilet?"

"Next door over to the right," Potter said, but didn't move out of the way.

Snape debated the wisdom of forcing his way past Potter, but decided that might come too close to violence for the spell he was under. "Unless you want to have a mess on your hands, I think you should let me pass."

Again, it looked like Potter was weighing his options, but eventually, he stepped aside. "I have to go to work. I expect this list of chores to be completed by the time I get home this evening."

Snape made a noncommittal sound as he passed.

The room was stark and plain. A white tile bathtub, a white toilet, and basin. After Azkaban, it was pure luxury, and Snape didn't care as long as it worked properly.

When he returned to his room, the list of things Potter wanted done was affixed to his door. Potter, thankfully, was gone.

Snape went up the stairs to the ground floor. It was nicely decorated, much better than he would have expected from Potter. He fixed himself breakfast and read the Prophet, which had been conveniently left for him, even if Potter had managed to get the pages out of order.

After dumping his dishes in the sink, on top of Potter's and what looked like last night's dinner, Snape wandered out of the kitchen.

Now that he'd eaten, looking around and getting the lay of the land, so to speak, was the first order of business. He climbed up two flights of stairs, and started on the second floor. It had four bedrooms, all with sitting rooms and bathrooms attached. Everything in them, the bedding, the draperies, the towels all looked brand new.

The first floor had three bedrooms, and one was double sized, and clearly inhabited. There was an adjoining door to not only a sitting room, but also to a well furnished office. Again everything seemed brand new.

However, Snape was sure the house was old. It had the feel of history to it.

Without disturbing anything, Snape searched the room from top to bottom, not sure what he was looking for. Perhaps all he wanted was to get some measure of the man who slept there. There was nothing at all telling about the rooms besides the fact that Potter was stupid enough to leave them unguarded with what amounted to an enemy in his house. If he'd had his wand, he would have arranged it so that Potter learned a painful lesson from his carelessness.

Alas, those days were gone. And even when it had been his right, his duty, it hadn't done any good.

After going through everything, Snape went downstairs to the kitchen and made himself a pleasant lunch. He brought it into the sitting room. Eating slowly, enjoying every mouthful, he couldn't remember the last time he felt so pleasantly full.

The bookshelves beckoned him, and Snape was surprised by the wide ranging topics. Clearly, Potter had bought the books with the house. No nineteen-year-old he knew, and certainly not Harry Potter, had interests in philosophy, ethics, history, and religion. The selections included treatises from some of the greatest Muggle and Wizard thinkers of all time.

It would take Snape quite some time to get through all of them. Many had been on his reading list for years. He sighed, happily.

He pulled one of the history texts out. After an hour, he put the book down. Leaving the lunch dishes, he prepared himself a cup of tea and found some chocolate biscuits. Contented, Snape settled into the sofa and opened up the book again.

Several hours later, the pop of Potter's Apparition into the room disturbed Snape's concentration on his book. He turned to scowl at him for his rudeness.

"What are you doing?" Potter asked, his tone filled with outraged disbelief.

Snape would have thought that it was obvious what he was doing, but then, Potter wasn't very bright. "Reading," he said, blandly.

"I told you I wanted you to do that list of chores." Potter's tone was a bit too autocratic for Snape's taste.

"I saw it." It seemed unlikely to Snape that Potter was actually stupid enough to assume he'd do what Potter wanted, simply because he'd ordered it. Or perhaps, he was giving Potter too much credit for intelligence.

"What part of indentured servant do you not get? What part of obeying don't you get?" Potter yelled at him, his face turning red with his outrage.

Snape shrugged. Yes, he'd given too much credit.

Potter pulled his wand out of his sleeve. The book Snape had been reading flew out of his hands and returned to the bookshelf.

"You may not read my books without asking me first." Unfortunately, Potter hadn't lowered his voice at all.

Snape considered putting his fingers in his ears in protest, but that probably wouldn't help matters. For the moment, he'd have to listen. Potter ranted about his books again.

If Snape asked for the books, Potter would say no. The control issue was clear. It would serve Snape better to wait, and just read them when Potter wasn't around.

Potter sniffed. "And I told you to bathe."

"I'll bathe when I feel like it." Which Snape had meant to do today, but not because Potter had demanded it. Now, it would have to wait a few days.

"You'll do it when I tell you to do it. In fact, you'll do it now." Potter's tone was like ice. "You have no choices here, no rights."

"What are you going to do if I don't?" Snape knew he was dancing on thin ice, but if he could establish some control, it would only help his cause in the future.

Even before he finished speaking, Potter had his wand out and Snape's hands were bound. A moment of panic knifed through Snape, but he pushed it back. This was Potter and he wasn't going to hurt him.

"I'm going to force you." Potter cast Petrificus and then Mobilicorpus. As Potter left the room, Snape floated behind him like a balloon on a tether.

He was deposited in the bathtub, and Potter said, "Induviae Removeo."

Snape's clothes vanished. The water was barely warm, and Snape thought perhaps he should be grateful it wasn't ice cold, especially given Potter's mood.

Potter raised his wand again, and it was all Snape could do not to cringe. A flannel lifted and rubbed at a bar of white soap. Snape wanted to move away as it came at him, but he couldn't move and was forced to allow it to wash him. Invisible fingers washed his hair, poking painfully into his scalp.

Seething, Snape bit his lip and bore it, almost grateful that the spell held him still. There was no doubt in his mind that he'd be attempting murder right now were he free. He was literally shaking with rage by the time Potter finished with him.

"Finite Incantatem," Potter said.

He was freed and a towel landed on his head.

"Get up, and dry off," Potter ordered, sounding as it this had been a chore for him.

Good, Snape thought, maybe he won't do it again. Before he could move, he took a deep breath, clamping down on his fury. He seriously thought about trying to kill Potter, but the strategist in him knew he'd never get close. Besides which, the spell wouldn't let him do anything. Wrapping the towel around his hips, Snape pushed past Potter.

The sight of his empty room after the luxury of the house was another slap in the face. He wasn't sure why he expected better from Potter, but he had.

Potter stood in his doorway again. "Go to bed."

"Without my supper?" Snape asked, nastily. "Is this punishment for being naughty?"

"I'll bring you something after I eat."

That was a surprise. He expected to miss dinner.

The door closed and no doubt locked. Wearily, Snape sat down on his pallet. After some time, probably at least an hour, but Snape had no way of knowing, Potter opened the door, and set a tray on the floor. He left without a word.

Snape examined the toasted sandwich. Beans on toast. God, how he hated it. He'd eaten more than his share of it as a child. There was some part of him that wanted to toss it on the floor and step on it. However, starving himself was stupid and counter-productive. He choked down half of it before giving up.

His hair was still damp when he lay down to sleep. He hated sleeping with wet hair. He hated sleeping naked. And he hated Potter, hated him with a nearly maniacal passion.

What he hadn't hated was today. It was the first mostly stress-free day he'd had in more years than he could count. He could do with several more days like this one. Even given how the day had ended, the peace had been worth it.

Unbearably tired, Snape closed his eyes and willed sleep to come quickly.

"Hey mate," Ron said, cheerily as he came into the Auror trainee changing room with the rest of his group. "How did it go today?"

They had been split into separate teams for specialized wand training. It was one of the few things Harry was good at. But after the rest of the week, it wasn't going to matter enough to make a difference.

With a towel over his head, Harry massaged his scalp, trying to get most of the moisture out of his hair. "Fine."

"Are you still coming by for dinner tonight?" Ron asked, stripping off his clothes and grabbing a towel from his locker.

At least that would put off the inevitable fight with Snape until later. After a week, Snape had done nothing in the house, except eat and read, and make a mess. "Yeah. At least I won't have to fix my own dinner."

"I thought you got Snape as an indentured servant. Shouldn't he be cooking?" one of the other guys asked.

"Or is Potter going easy on the guy?" someone else snickered. "Like always."

"Actually, I think he's only been with Harry for a day or two, right Harry?" Ron asked, giving Harry an encouraging smile.

"Yes," Harry said, ignoring the other men. He was not in a sociable mood. And he wasn't up to the usual teasing and horseplay that went with their camaraderie.

"Wait for me, then. We'll Apparate together." Ron walked towards the showers.

Harry let the sounds of the locker room bounce off him as he concentrated on not thinking about anything at all.

"Dinner will be in half an hour," a sullen Pansy Parkinson said, heading back towards the kitchen without another word. Dressed in plain gray robes, her long hair pulled back into a tail, she was a far cry from the elegant girl Harry had known at school.

Most of the Death Eaters who had been convicted of capital crimes, murder or rape, had been executed. Those in Azkaban were the ones the Ministry could not pin an actual murder on. They had been charged with lesser crimes, extortion, robbery, property damage, and all manner of terrorism, and had been sentenced to life in prison.

Pansy fell into the third category. She had been a Death Eater, though a minor one, and she was considered safe enough to let out into society as an indentured servant.

"She's so well behaved. How did you manage to do that?" Harry asked. Snape could learn a thing or two from his former student. Of course, Snape was probably too good to actually do it.

"The first couple of days all she did was sit around and eat," Hermione said.

"The same with Snape. All he does is lay about." And eat, too. As much as Harry had no sympathy for Snape about anything, Azkaban was not known for feeding its prisoners very well and Snape looked...well, half-starved.

"Lie about," Hermione corrected, and then smiled at his scowl.

"I threatened her," Ron said, and Hermione looked away, clearly uncomfortable.

"How?" Harry couldn't see that working. The problem with Snape was that there was nothing he cared about.

"I told her that if she didn't work, she wasn't going to get fed."

Harry's heart thudded at that, and for a second, he couldn't breathe. He reminded himself that this was Ron and he wasn't cruel. "Did she obey with just the threat?"

"No. Of course not. It took three days before she was willing to negotiate for food." Ron's tone wasn't quite defensive, and Hermione wasn't looking at either of them.

"Negotiate?" Harry asked, looking between Ron and Hermione. It was pretty clear that Hermione had a problem with what Ron had done, but she hadn't done anything about it. Which meant that against her better judgment, it needed to be done.

"We couldn't make her work and not give her something in return for it. We don't care that she's an indentured servant, and has no rights. We just can't do that," Hermione said, her expression intense, as it was when she felt strongly about something.

Harry could see this was something she was going to do something about. "So what are you giving her?"

"If she does a good job, at the end of the week, she can have something she wants from a list I had her draw up."

"What did she ask for?"

"Foods that she likes, books, clothes. That kind of thing. A bigger bed. Specific kinds of toiletries, more clothes, days off."

"And it works?"

"Not without a struggle sometimes, but it does." Hermione smiled at him. "Having trouble with Snape?"

"That would be an understatement." Harry was surprised by the defeat in his own voice. It should not have been this difficult. Of course, when had anything dealing with Snape not been difficult? It was too bad he couldn't just give him back. But once the verdict was handed down, there was nothing that could be done, short of a full court judgment, or a pardon. Neither of which was at all likely anytime soon.

It wasn't his fault that he was one of the few wizards alive strong enough to hold Snape. Harry hadn't been given a choice. If Harry hadn't agreed, Snape would have remained in Azkaban and allowed to die at the hands of the other prisoners. Harry might hate him, but he did acknowledge that Snape didn't deserve that.

"He's older and has had years more practice at being stubborn than Pansy. But you might try the food for work plan. Everyone has to eat." Ron didn't seem to have a problem with that.

However, Harry did. "I couldn't do that." A familiar ache ghosted in his stomach. It nauseated him.

Ron seemed surprised by his vehemence. "Why not?"

"You've never been hungry, have you?" Harry hadn't told them much about his life with the Dursleys, but surely they had noticed how thin he was every autumn when they were at school. "I can't withhold food."

Hermione eyed him for a moment, understanding and sadness coming into her eyes. "Okay, something else then?"

The scars of his childhood were there, like the scar on his forehead, but that didn't mean he had to acknowledge either of them. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Food is one of those basic things. You need to strike him where he lives, and in such a way that he has to give in." Hermione looked down, clearly uncomfortable.

"I can't think of anything," Harry said. Things couldn't go on as they had been or Harry would lose what little control he had. The forced baths were one thing, but he couldn't force Snape to work when he wasn't there to supervise him.

"You could threaten to thrash him, if he doesn't do what you want," Ron suggested, and in such a way that Harry wasn't sure he was joking.

"Ron...." Hermione looked horrified, but Harry had to admit that he hated Snape enough to seriously consider it.

"I'm serious. Not to actually hurt him, but make him think that you will, make him think that he's going to be facing that. I don't think his pride could handle it." There was a smile on his face as if the idea actually held some appeal.

"The thing is, I won't be able to carry through." Harry might be able to strike out in anger once, but he wasn't going to be able to regularly beat anyone. There had been too much of that in his early life. And even if he managed to do it to Snape, he'd feel lousy about it afterward.

"Then find some way to convince him you will." Ron thought for a moment. "You might only have to do it once, and then he'll know you will follow through."

"I don't know." Harry wasn't sure he could do it once. He might hate Snape, but he didn't want to hurt anyone. Even if that kind of punishment wouldn't hurt more than his pride.

"You have to have a threat to gain compliance." Ron's expression was calculating.

"And you have to be willing to follow through. Because he is going to test you, at least once," Hermione said.

"Dinner is ready," Pansy said, and turned around and left.

Harry looked after her, considering. He wanted Snape to obey him, but mostly he wanted Snape to stay out of his way.

After dinner, Harry was more relaxed. "I bet the twins are having a grand time with Draco Malfoy."

Ron snorted. "From what it sounds like, they seem to be doing better than you are."

"Which wouldn't be saying much, now would it? What do they have him doing?" Harry could not see Malfoy giving in without a fight.

"Same kind of thing as the rest of us. Except they have him cleaning the shop. And they tease him rather badly. I think they are a bit too much for Malfoy." Ron actually sounded as if he felt sorry for Malfoy.

Well, the twins could be a bit much for anyone to take, and someone as perpetually bad tempered as Malfoy was would not get on well with them. "You know, I hate this whole system."

"Me too," Hermione said, sitting down next to Ron on the sofa. "I know there is a huge historical precedent for it, but I still think it's wrong for one person to own another. No matter what they've done."

"It's not really ownership." But it was, and everyone involved knew it. "I mean, technically he's a servant." And no, Harry wasn't going to think about what was on the pocket of Snape's shirts. Somehow the joke wasn't so funny anymore. Harry shook off the feeling. Snape deserved everything he got, and more.

Hermione's expression hardened. "What would you call it? You have complete control over every aspect of Snape's life and he has no recourse at all."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that, especially since he knew it was true.

Ron put an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I don't know what else they could have done."

"They could have found another way, something other than indenturing them. It's nearly slavery," Hermione insisted, her eyes flashing.

"You know as well as I do that Azkaban without the Dementors is woefully short staffed."

"It doesn't matter. They could have done something else." Hermione folded her arms over her chest.

Ron also had a determined look on his face. "I don't disagree that indenturing them is wrong. But in this case, they had to do something for those who were less violent, those who weren't really a threat."

"I realize that. But to indenture them forever? I think there should be term limits," Hermione said. She had that expression on her face that said she was severely unhappy with the situation. The same expression that she'd had for most of their Fourth Year.

"That's all well and good, but why did I have to get stuck with Snape?" Harry didn't care that he sounded whiney. He hadn't done anything wrong and he'd been given a life sentence with Snape. How completely unfair was that?

"You know the answer to that one already." Ron chuckled.

Harry didn't want to talk about Snape or any of the reasons the greasy git was now part of his life. "Why do you think there should be term limits?"

"Because not every one of them deserves to be indentured for the rest of their lives." Hermione looked towards the kitchen. "She went to a few meetings, and on a few raids. As far as I have been able to tell, she's never hurt anyone."

"That's why she wasn't put in Azkaban," Ron said, but he didn't sound like he liked the idea any better than Hermione did.

Harry, on the other hand, knew better. "I think Snape deserves to be punished for killing Dumbledore."

"He was working on Dumbledore's orders." Hermione said that as if it mattered, as if that should excuse what he'd done.

To Harry, it didn't matter. "The bastard still did it. He still should be punished for doing it."

"It was part of the larger plan. And it worked." Since when did Ron defend Snape?

"Beyond Dumbledore, you know that he let Ginny die, too." To Harry's horror, his voice cracked. Six months ago and he felt as if the knife had just gone through his chest. "He got me out, but he left her. I can't forgive him for it."

"I know. He did what he did to make sure you lived. And as much as I loved my sister," Ron's voice cracked, too, "you had to live to defeat Voldemort. You had to live," he closed his eyes. "But she didn't."

Even though it clearly hurt him to accept it, to think the trade was worth it, Ron obviously had come to terms with it.

Harry never could or would. "I hate him for that. She shouldn't have died."

"No. She shouldn't have. But Snape didn't kill her. A Death Eater did." Hermione's voice had suppressed tears in it. "She was one of my closest friends. And I'll miss her forever, but you know as well as I do, she would have chosen you, too."

"She should have lived." Harry felt the familiar rage rise in him. He wanted to strike out and punish someone for what he'd lost. Snape's ugly, scowling face came into his mind like a bad dream. Yeah, exactly.

"But you know, she wouldn't want you to blame him for that. She was more fair than that, and so are you." Hermione was right, but that didn't make him feel any better about it.

"I hate him," Harry said, not letting it go as he probably should have done.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not that fond of him, either. But your life and his are now intricately bound together."

"Ugh...you make it sound like a real bond or something." Harry already felt sick at the idea that Snape would be a part of his life, anything more than that was disgusting and just plain wrong.

Hermione gave him an admonishing look. "What would you call the indenturing bond?"

"He is bound to me. He can't hurt me or run away from his punishment. I am not bound to him in any way." And Harry could not be more glad about that. All he wanted from the bastard was compliance.

"Have you asked him to brew the Wolfsbane?" Ron asked, clearly wanting to get off the subject.

Harry was more than agreeable to that. "I haven't got that far with the bastard yet." They had probably both already twigged on to how he'd not got Snape to do one blessed thing all week.

"Remus is going to need the potion, very soon. You're going to have to get him to do it within the week," Hermione said, and she seemed concerned that Harry wasn't going to have Snape brew it.

"I know. Now that I've got an idea of how to handle things, I'm going to speak to him about that as soon as I can." Harry smiled. Getting the better of that greasy git would be so good. Harry was looking forward to it.

"That should be fun," Ron said, sounding as if he knew just how unpleasant that conversation was going to be.

Oh, and Harry knew it, too.

Go to Part 2

I'm planning to post the next part in a day or two.