FIC: Pardon Me?
Title: Pardon Me?
Author: Queen of the Castle
Rating: PG-13 (for suggestiveness)
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Summary: One threat to wizarding society breaks free, while another is shackled with new chains.
Author's Notes: Response to the thematic_hp first round forced marriage or bonding challenge, prompt #6: Post-war. Harry has killed off Voldie, and the ministry is afraid of his power, concerned he's unstable and demands he bond with someone who can control his power or enable him to do so. Harry is very uninterested in the idea and fights it. The Ministry casts a spell because whoever he bonds with must have complementary magic. The complement is Snape who is sitting in Azkaban, for murder. They offer Snape a deal if he will do it, and pretty much force Harry to do it. Bonus if it's Umbridge who finds the complement spell.
Pardon Me?
Harry Potter yanked half-heartedly at the metal rings that shackled his wrists to the hard, straight-backed chair the Ministry had forced him to sit in for the past ten hours. He swore they’d specially conjured up that chair in anticipation of him, just so that they could make him that little bit more uncomfortable than he already was. They probably thought the pain and discomfort drew his attention away from they way that they stared at him as if he was some sort of wild animal, occasionally pulling each other aside and whispering, their wide eyes not slipping away from him for a moment.
Really, though, it just pissed him off.
“How much longer will I be here?” he asked.
As had been the case each time he asked such a question, the Aurors and other Ministry officials merely curled their lips at him, not saying a word. Harry thought even a dangerous creature would receive more courtesy than this. At least the fear in their eyes would have been more pronounced if it was an animal or ‘half-breed’ they were ogling, and they would not dare to look at him with such contempt.
“I have rights, you know,” Harry reminded them through gritted teeth. “Just because I killed the Berk Lord doesn’t mean I’m not still a normal wizard, just like the rest of you. You should be thanking me for doing it, giving me an Order of Merlin even. And you would be, I think, but for the fact that I used a bit of power you lot don’t have to do it. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? I was the only one who could because I was the only one with that power. Do you want him back? Would you let me go if I just resurrected him and reinstated him back into power, ready to conquer the Ministry, as he was just before I offed him?”
It was apparently the wrong thing to say, as a dozen or so witches and wizards suddenly had their wands trained on him menacingly. One of them, who was so red in the face with anger that he looked to Harry as if he was about to pop, spat, “One more threat like that, Potter, and we’ll make certain you never see daylight again.”
Harry would have liked to have commented on the lack of originality in the threat, but a vein in the man’s temple seemed to throb in a manner that dredged up memories of Uncle Vernon, and Harry thought better of it. The man, after all, was quite large-built, and magically powerful by reputation. Even on the off chance that he could disarm the man without his wand, Harry really didn’t fancy the prospect of having his spine yanked out, or some other equally horrific physical torture.
“It wasn’t a threat,” Harry said instead, attempting to make his voice remain calm. “It’s not like I want him, back, either. That would be kind of a waste of the seven years I spent trying to stop him from gaining total control, wouldn’t it?”
One of the Aurors snorted in disbelief and muttered something about “competition”, but otherwise the situation seemed to defuse itself then, and they all went back to waiting, though for what Harry still had no idea.
“I should hope not, Mr Potter.”
Harry would have liked to have spun around to face the speaker, but he could barely even swivel his head around, tied down as he was. Though he didn’t need to see the man to recognise him - his voice was more than enough - Harry didn’t like the wasted opportunity for glaring.
“It would be a shame to spend all your life trying to defeat the Dark Lord and achieve this level of fame, only to throw it all away by bringing him back. What would your adoring public say?”
Severus Snape was led around Harry’s chair so that they could face each other. The Aurors who had escorted him in to the interview room, better known as Harry’s holding cell, fell back away from the older man as if they’d been stung, their wands still drawn and focused cautiously on the Death Eater.
Harry’s laughter was dry and barking. “If I ever had adoring public, Snape, I’ve lost them now. They’re all petrified that I’ll turn my power on them.” Harry leered at his old teacher. “Aren’t you worried, Professor? I’ve more reason to hurt you than anyone else still living, and you’re right here, all tied up - practically gift-wrapped, in fact - for me,” Harry taunted, indicating to the magical bindings that held Snape’s arms behind his back as surely as Harry’s shackles were restricting him to his chairs. They were prisoners, and dangerous one’s at that. Harry never thought he’d share anything in common with Snape, let alone something of that nature.
Snape sneered at him. “Potter, power or not, you’re more likely to kill yourself trying to use it than to have any impact on me. Personally, I believe that’s why the Ministry has chosen me to ‘stabilise’ you. They want to make certain that you’re bonded to someone who won’t be able teach you anything useful - for I’m quite certain you would refuse to listen to me even if I tried, much like your Occlumency lessons - so that someday in the near future you’ll blow yourself up like you unfortunately failed to do during all those years in my Potions class, and they can be finally rid of you. I agree with this plan wholeheartedly, of course. You have served your purpose, and now you are simply a menace to society.”
“Bonded?” Harry croaked, barely able to hear the rest of Snape’s speech for the ringing in his ears at the sound of that word.
“Didn’t they tell you?” Snape jeered. “You are considered too dangerous to continue unsupervised in the wizarding world, and the only means of making certain that someone with your innate power can be continuously supervised is through permanent magical bonding.” Snape grinned in a wholely unsettling manner. “One of the Ministry drones - Umbridge, I think, though I didn’t pay all that much attention to the details, for it hardly matters - found just the spell, including a nice little identification charm that finds the person most suited to balancing you out.”
“And that led to you?” Harry scoffed. “What’s the bond meant to balance, then, good and evil?”
“Control and the lack of it,” Snape corrected, unfazed by the implication - indeed, the almost outright statement - in what Harry had said. “I always told you that you’re propensity for rule-breaking and lack of control over yourself would get you into more trouble than you could ever dream. Well, Mr Potter, your day has finally dawned.”
“I don’t believe you,” Harry responded. His eyes darted desperately around from Auror to Auror, begging them to refute Snape’s explanation. They all simply stared back at him with stony expressions.
“Your belief is not a prerequisite. This particular bonding ceremony need not be … consensual,” Snape breathed. Harry’s heart felt like it dropped through the floor.
“You can’t mean …” Harry whispered.
The corner of Snape’s thin lips lifted in a smirk. “A Ministry official will, of course, fully explain the details of our bonding to you before the event actually occurs tomorrow. I look forward to becoming much more closely acquainted with your person.”
It looked like Snape was finished, and he signalled the Aurors to convey just that. However, before they could lead him out of the room, Harry cried out, “Wait!”
Snape raised a dark eyebrow, which practically disappeared behind a curtain of greasy black hair, at Harry, signalling for him to hurry up and get out whatever he wanted to say. Snape, of course, would have better places to be, even when he’d been confined to Azkaban since Voldemort’s downfall a few days before. Perhaps especially then, Harry thought darkly.
“Why … why would you do this? Surely you don’t want to be bonded with me forever?”
“Because, Potter,” Snape said after a moment of staring at him like he’d just spoken in tongues beyond the usual wizarding capacity to do so, “after spending the previous two days hidden away in a cozy Azkaban suite with Dementor room service and the wireless permanently stuck on the musical wonders of the human scream ripping from dozens of throats, the pardon the Ministry has dangled before me should I complete this one task is beginning to appear extremely appetizing.”
“You … They can’t pardon you. You’re a criminal! A murderer!”
“So are you, Potter,” Snape reminded him. “And you, apparently, are the one that they are afraid of. I may be tied up, as you so nicely pointed out, but you are chained down.”
This time, Snape turned all the way around before stopping, though it was not at Harry’s behest but his own.
“And Potter?” he called, looking back over his shoulder. “Now would be a good time to start behaving yourself. The Ministry of Magic, after all, is very busy, and has not yet found the time to draw up a proper contract including the rules and restrictions involved in our bonding.”
At the predatory look Snape gave him, Harry wished he could melt into the chair he was chained to. He’d prefer to sit in it for the rest of his life than to spend that long with Snape exerting his authority over him without Dumbledore there to reign him in.
It was Snape’s fault that Dumbledore wasn’t there. Snape was a murderer, and the Ministry was setting him free and chaining Harry to him, allowing the ex-Professor to do as he wished with his new charge.
Harry wished that he could cry, but the bitterness inside him was utterly dry, like a desert that knew it was unlikely to ever again taste the rain.
~Fin~
Author: Queen of the Castle
Rating: PG-13 (for suggestiveness)
Pairing: Harry/Snape
Summary: One threat to wizarding society breaks free, while another is shackled with new chains.
Author's Notes: Response to the thematic_hp first round forced marriage or bonding challenge, prompt #6: Post-war. Harry has killed off Voldie, and the ministry is afraid of his power, concerned he's unstable and demands he bond with someone who can control his power or enable him to do so. Harry is very uninterested in the idea and fights it. The Ministry casts a spell because whoever he bonds with must have complementary magic. The complement is Snape who is sitting in Azkaban, for murder. They offer Snape a deal if he will do it, and pretty much force Harry to do it. Bonus if it's Umbridge who finds the complement spell.
Pardon Me?
Harry Potter yanked half-heartedly at the metal rings that shackled his wrists to the hard, straight-backed chair the Ministry had forced him to sit in for the past ten hours. He swore they’d specially conjured up that chair in anticipation of him, just so that they could make him that little bit more uncomfortable than he already was. They probably thought the pain and discomfort drew his attention away from they way that they stared at him as if he was some sort of wild animal, occasionally pulling each other aside and whispering, their wide eyes not slipping away from him for a moment.
Really, though, it just pissed him off.
“How much longer will I be here?” he asked.
As had been the case each time he asked such a question, the Aurors and other Ministry officials merely curled their lips at him, not saying a word. Harry thought even a dangerous creature would receive more courtesy than this. At least the fear in their eyes would have been more pronounced if it was an animal or ‘half-breed’ they were ogling, and they would not dare to look at him with such contempt.
“I have rights, you know,” Harry reminded them through gritted teeth. “Just because I killed the Berk Lord doesn’t mean I’m not still a normal wizard, just like the rest of you. You should be thanking me for doing it, giving me an Order of Merlin even. And you would be, I think, but for the fact that I used a bit of power you lot don’t have to do it. That was the point, though, wasn’t it? I was the only one who could because I was the only one with that power. Do you want him back? Would you let me go if I just resurrected him and reinstated him back into power, ready to conquer the Ministry, as he was just before I offed him?”
It was apparently the wrong thing to say, as a dozen or so witches and wizards suddenly had their wands trained on him menacingly. One of them, who was so red in the face with anger that he looked to Harry as if he was about to pop, spat, “One more threat like that, Potter, and we’ll make certain you never see daylight again.”
Harry would have liked to have commented on the lack of originality in the threat, but a vein in the man’s temple seemed to throb in a manner that dredged up memories of Uncle Vernon, and Harry thought better of it. The man, after all, was quite large-built, and magically powerful by reputation. Even on the off chance that he could disarm the man without his wand, Harry really didn’t fancy the prospect of having his spine yanked out, or some other equally horrific physical torture.
“It wasn’t a threat,” Harry said instead, attempting to make his voice remain calm. “It’s not like I want him, back, either. That would be kind of a waste of the seven years I spent trying to stop him from gaining total control, wouldn’t it?”
One of the Aurors snorted in disbelief and muttered something about “competition”, but otherwise the situation seemed to defuse itself then, and they all went back to waiting, though for what Harry still had no idea.
“I should hope not, Mr Potter.”
Harry would have liked to have spun around to face the speaker, but he could barely even swivel his head around, tied down as he was. Though he didn’t need to see the man to recognise him - his voice was more than enough - Harry didn’t like the wasted opportunity for glaring.
“It would be a shame to spend all your life trying to defeat the Dark Lord and achieve this level of fame, only to throw it all away by bringing him back. What would your adoring public say?”
Severus Snape was led around Harry’s chair so that they could face each other. The Aurors who had escorted him in to the interview room, better known as Harry’s holding cell, fell back away from the older man as if they’d been stung, their wands still drawn and focused cautiously on the Death Eater.
Harry’s laughter was dry and barking. “If I ever had adoring public, Snape, I’ve lost them now. They’re all petrified that I’ll turn my power on them.” Harry leered at his old teacher. “Aren’t you worried, Professor? I’ve more reason to hurt you than anyone else still living, and you’re right here, all tied up - practically gift-wrapped, in fact - for me,” Harry taunted, indicating to the magical bindings that held Snape’s arms behind his back as surely as Harry’s shackles were restricting him to his chairs. They were prisoners, and dangerous one’s at that. Harry never thought he’d share anything in common with Snape, let alone something of that nature.
Snape sneered at him. “Potter, power or not, you’re more likely to kill yourself trying to use it than to have any impact on me. Personally, I believe that’s why the Ministry has chosen me to ‘stabilise’ you. They want to make certain that you’re bonded to someone who won’t be able teach you anything useful - for I’m quite certain you would refuse to listen to me even if I tried, much like your Occlumency lessons - so that someday in the near future you’ll blow yourself up like you unfortunately failed to do during all those years in my Potions class, and they can be finally rid of you. I agree with this plan wholeheartedly, of course. You have served your purpose, and now you are simply a menace to society.”
“Bonded?” Harry croaked, barely able to hear the rest of Snape’s speech for the ringing in his ears at the sound of that word.
“Didn’t they tell you?” Snape jeered. “You are considered too dangerous to continue unsupervised in the wizarding world, and the only means of making certain that someone with your innate power can be continuously supervised is through permanent magical bonding.” Snape grinned in a wholely unsettling manner. “One of the Ministry drones - Umbridge, I think, though I didn’t pay all that much attention to the details, for it hardly matters - found just the spell, including a nice little identification charm that finds the person most suited to balancing you out.”
“And that led to you?” Harry scoffed. “What’s the bond meant to balance, then, good and evil?”
“Control and the lack of it,” Snape corrected, unfazed by the implication - indeed, the almost outright statement - in what Harry had said. “I always told you that you’re propensity for rule-breaking and lack of control over yourself would get you into more trouble than you could ever dream. Well, Mr Potter, your day has finally dawned.”
“I don’t believe you,” Harry responded. His eyes darted desperately around from Auror to Auror, begging them to refute Snape’s explanation. They all simply stared back at him with stony expressions.
“Your belief is not a prerequisite. This particular bonding ceremony need not be … consensual,” Snape breathed. Harry’s heart felt like it dropped through the floor.
“You can’t mean …” Harry whispered.
The corner of Snape’s thin lips lifted in a smirk. “A Ministry official will, of course, fully explain the details of our bonding to you before the event actually occurs tomorrow. I look forward to becoming much more closely acquainted with your person.”
It looked like Snape was finished, and he signalled the Aurors to convey just that. However, before they could lead him out of the room, Harry cried out, “Wait!”
Snape raised a dark eyebrow, which practically disappeared behind a curtain of greasy black hair, at Harry, signalling for him to hurry up and get out whatever he wanted to say. Snape, of course, would have better places to be, even when he’d been confined to Azkaban since Voldemort’s downfall a few days before. Perhaps especially then, Harry thought darkly.
“Why … why would you do this? Surely you don’t want to be bonded with me forever?”
“Because, Potter,” Snape said after a moment of staring at him like he’d just spoken in tongues beyond the usual wizarding capacity to do so, “after spending the previous two days hidden away in a cozy Azkaban suite with Dementor room service and the wireless permanently stuck on the musical wonders of the human scream ripping from dozens of throats, the pardon the Ministry has dangled before me should I complete this one task is beginning to appear extremely appetizing.”
“You … They can’t pardon you. You’re a criminal! A murderer!”
“So are you, Potter,” Snape reminded him. “And you, apparently, are the one that they are afraid of. I may be tied up, as you so nicely pointed out, but you are chained down.”
This time, Snape turned all the way around before stopping, though it was not at Harry’s behest but his own.
“And Potter?” he called, looking back over his shoulder. “Now would be a good time to start behaving yourself. The Ministry of Magic, after all, is very busy, and has not yet found the time to draw up a proper contract including the rules and restrictions involved in our bonding.”
At the predatory look Snape gave him, Harry wished he could melt into the chair he was chained to. He’d prefer to sit in it for the rest of his life than to spend that long with Snape exerting his authority over him without Dumbledore there to reign him in.
It was Snape’s fault that Dumbledore wasn’t there. Snape was a murderer, and the Ministry was setting him free and chaining Harry to him, allowing the ex-Professor to do as he wished with his new charge.
Harry wished that he could cry, but the bitterness inside him was utterly dry, like a desert that knew it was unlikely to ever again taste the rain.
~Fin~