Title: Play the Game
Author: HP Strangelove
Team: Snitch
Genre(s): Alive and Kicking
Prompt(s): Play the Game, Underworld
Rating: NC-17
Warning/Kinks: *Non-con/rape, graphic torture, sexual sadism, bondage, object penetration, sexual slavery, breathplay, bloodplay, needleplay, waxplay, elements of dom/sub, non-Snarry pairings, minor character death, and depending on your definition, possibly BDSM*
Word Count: 50,072
Summary: When Auror Harry Potter goes missing during an investigation of a wizarding sex club where abducted Muggles are being forced to work, his best friend and former lover, Draco Malfoy, calls upon the reclusive Severus Snape for help. For six years, Severus has refused to have anything to do with Harry, wishing that he’d never given Harry his memories in the Shrieking Shack. Now that Harry is missing, he is having second thoughts about rejecting Harry’s offers of friendship. After searching for six months, Draco and Severus are beginning to think they won’t find Harry alive. Harry, meanwhile, is barely surviving, and thinks that the person responsible for his imprisonment and torture – is Severus Snape.
A/N: A big thank you to Team Captain and friend, joanwilder, for SPaG; Sestra Prior for Britpic; winoniel for additional grammar and wording suggestions; my sister for assistance with the duel scene; Magic-helmet for Instant Messaging format; team members elfwreck and gin_tonic for help in creating Morsus Culexum, and starcrossdkayla for content review and the waxplay idea.
For those of you whom I know will want to know – it’s top!Snape.
I own nothing except the plot, including all original potions, spells, charms, locations, and characters. Harry Potter and all the recognizable elements therein are the intellectual property / registered trademarks of JK Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers.

Play the Game

Chapter 1: Twenty-four Hours A Day

It didn’t matter how many times Harry had done this – he still hated it. He hated not having any privacy. He hated not knowing who was watching or when they were watching. Someone was watching all the time, he was sure of that – Sebastian…clients…someone. What he didn’t know was when Snape was watching.

Harry glanced to his left at the large flat screen monitor mounted on the wall. It was blank, so apparently he was touching himself in just the right way tonight – or this afternoon, or this morning. He had no sense of time in this room. He just reasoned that when clients came to him, it was night.

There were no windows to allow light to filter in. The intervals between the meals that were shoved through the opening in the bottom of the door seemed inconsistent. The food was always the same bland grey mush, so it wasn’t as if he could tell the time of day based on what was being served. Several times, he was sure that more than a day had gone by without Sebastian feeding him. He was always hungry.

In the beginning, he’d attempted to keep track of the days, but that quickly became an effort in futility. The first time he’d woken up, it was to blackness so dark he’d thought he might have been blinded – it seemed ironic that after finally having his eyesight corrected, he'd end up losing his sight completely. When he’d tried to touch his eyes, he found he couldn’t move his hands. He was laying on a crisscross of cold, thick wire, and his wrists and ankles were bound to the corners. He couldn’t speak. He was gagged – a large, round ball was in his mouth, held in place by thick straps.

Once he’d determined he couldn’t move, he’d started feeling the pain – pain in his nipples where something clamped tightly on each one, pain in his arse from something thick penetrating him, pain in his cock and balls from some type of rough, prickly rope wrapped around them.

More than the physical pain, though, had been the pain in his heart, caused by Snape’s betrayal. Snape had been the one to send him the false tip, had been the one to lure him to Knockturn Alley, had been the one to kidnap and bring him here. In a million years, Harry would never have thought that Snape was the one behind the abductions. Snape was hateful, but Harry had always thought that it had been a ruse, an act to fool Voldemort into thinking he was a true follower. Harry had never thought of Snape as evil, until now.

There was a low sounding beep, and with a sigh, Harry looked over to the monitor to see what he was supposed to do next.

OPEN YOUR LEGS WIDER

TURN TOWARD CAMERA TWO

STROKE YOU COCK FASTER

PINCH YOUR LEFT NIPPLE

Harry did as instructed, hoping he wouldn’t have to do it for very long. It meant that someone was watching from the other side of the lens, deciding if he would be the one to entertain them tonight. If he were chosen, it meant he’d get a piece of fruit or a vegetable with his next meal. He almost laughed at the thought of how much he’d hated eating vegetables when he was younger and living at the Dursleys’. Now he concentrated on stroking his cock faster in order to get a few green beans.

With no way of being able to tell time, he was required to follow the instructions until he heard the next beep, when the monitor would tell him if he’d been chosen and what category the client was in. He was so tired; he prayed that the client would be a category six or less tonight. He wasn’t sure if he could get through one of the higher categories.

Mercifully, he only had to masturbate for what he guessed was about five minutes. Then his heart sank when he read the monitor – the client was a category eight.

It was going to be a long, painful night.

Harry could barely move. Sebastian had taken care of treating his wounds while he’d been unconscious. Even though the bleeding had stopped, the pain in his wrists, ankles, and arse hadn’t.

The client last night had been especially brutal. He’d used both a whip and a knife. Harry thought that the knife should have classified the client as a category nine, but because the knife hadn’t been used exclusively, and only one cut had been made, the session had been deemed an eight. It was all mind games anyway. If the monitor had displayed a category five, it wasn’t as if he could have stopped the client from doing whatever he wanted to do anyway. The client was always right. Harry was just an object. He didn’t even have a name as far as this place was concerned. They were all numbers here, dictated by the room they were in; his number was six.

Harry glanced around, hoping that maybe this time, the cameras might be turned off. The little red dot above each lens showed him the live feed was on, as always. Twenty-four hours a day, he was being watched.

There was a camera mounted along the ceiling in each of the four corners of the room. The room was small – he estimated ten feet by ten feet square – and the cameras covered the entire room. The feed had been displayed once on the monitor as proof. There was no part of the room where he couldn’t be seen.

There was a stainless steel sink and toilet along one wall. Both cameras three and four had a clear view of him when he was there. A showerhead hung from the ceiling over a drain in the center of the room. The showerhead could be retracted, and chains with manacles would take its place. It was convenient for clean-up, he supposed, making it easy for the blood and semen to be washed off him before the next client arrived. He’d spent many hours in those manacles. Sometimes the chain would be lowered enough so that he could stand on his own. Other times it would be pulled higher so he’d just hang, suspended like a piece of meat, his arms going numb as his body weight pulled painfully on his wrists.

There was a bed along the wall that was in clear view of cameras one and two. He shivered as he thought of what had been done to him on that bed. It wasn’t meant for sleeping. The cement floor was for that. The bed was meant for fucking, for performing. If he didn’t please the clients, he’d end up like he had those first few days – weeks? – when he’d arrived: in the dark, gagged, bound to the wire of the bare bedframe. That rarely happened anymore, usually only when Sebastian was in one of his moods, but just the memory was enough to make his stomach churn.

Right now, he felt dirty, the dried come still on his thighs, stomach, face, hair – it would be easier to list the places where the client hadn’t come on him. The desire to be clean outweighed the agony of moving, and he slowly picked himself up off the floor and made his way to the middle of the room to take a shower. He noticed some shampoo and soap had been left on the sink. The client must have been very happy with his session last night, for him to have been given soap and shampoo.

The shower had a sensor. All he had to do was stand beneath it and it turned on – usually. Most times the water was the right temperature. Sometimes it was cold. So far, it hadn’t been scalding.

As he washed his hair, relaxing in the spray of the water, letting it soothe his aching muscles, a beep came from the speakers on the side of the monitor – he should have known the shampoo hadn’t been left there out of kindness. Sebastian wanted a private performance.

Harry looked to the monitor for instructions.

SOAP YOUR HAND

TURN TO CAMERA ONE

BEND OVER – THREE FINGERS

Harry sighed inwardly. If he delayed, the lights would be turned out. If he didn’t look like he was enjoying it, the lights would be turned out. If he refused, the lights would be turned out, and Sebastian would have his excuse for binding Harry back on the metal bed.

He never wanted to be in the dark again.

If Severus had been here for any other reason, he would have been very much enjoying himself. This was one of the more upscale clubs and the clientele here was more mature and reserved. Tonight, he wore black wool trousers and a black button-down shirt, open at the neck. He always dressed conservatively so as not to stand out, but there wasn’t much he could do about his age. He wore his hair long and bound back with a silver clasp. It was a trick he’d learned from Lucius. It made him look like a man with exotic tastes who knew exactly what he wanted. Severus wasn’t attractive by most people’s standards, but he knew how to carry and present himself in a self-confident manner that piqued people’s interest.

It was a Thursday, about midnight. The club was busy but not so much so that the bartender didn’t have time to speak with him. Severus had stayed at the bar, nursing his first drink as he watched the other patrons. When he saw the line at the bar dwindle, he quickly finished up his drink, then caught the eye of the bartender and indicated with his empty glass that he wanted a refill.

The barman was handsome, probably in his late twenties. He wasn’t quite as tall as Severus, but was a bit broader in the chest. He had medium length, wavy blond hair and was clean shaven. He wore black jeans and a black waistcoat over a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. The top several buttons were undone, showing a firm, hairless chest. When Severus had been younger, this man would have been exactly the type he would have wanted to spend a night with. Hell, he wouldn’t mind spending the night with him tonight. As it was, he had work to do and couldn’t let himself be distracted by this pretty face.

As the barman poured Severus his drink, he began his inquiry. "So a friend of mine recommended this place to me. He knows I like to play games and said there is a private one going on here. Do you know if there might be an opening at the table tonight for a new player?"

The barman looked Severus slowly up and down. This was always the trickiest moment, getting them to look him in the eye so he could lightly push into their minds. He didn’t need to go too deep. Either the club had what he was searching for or it didn’t.

It seemed that this one did.

"Certainly, sir. There is always room for one more player, as long as you have the minimum to buy in. I’ll call someone to show you the way." The barman went over to the other end of the bar and picked up a phone, speaking for a few moments before returning.

"Jerry will be here in five minutes to relieve me for my break and then I can take you down. Since it’s a Thursday, we only have one dealer on duty and he’s already involved with a game. But I’ll be more than happy to take care of your needs, if that is acceptable. My name is John."

Severus smiled. "It is nice to meet you, John. You may call me Henry."

Severus watched John as he took care of two more customers, his movements graceful as he made them their drinks. John was more than acceptable, but this also couldn’t be the place Severus was searching for. The barman hadn’t asked who’d sent him. According to Roman, the wizard who’d actually been to the sex club Severus was searching for, the protocol to be asked was, ‘Who told you about our game?’, to which the answer was, ‘James told me. He said this was a good place to play.’

When Severus had met Roman three months ago and pushed into his mind, he’d been relieved at finally finding a solid lead. Roman even had a memory of seeing Harry there. Then his relief had turned to horror as he saw what Roman had done that night with the poor Muggle boy he’d chosen, knowing that other men were doing those same things to Harry. As much as Severus enjoyed inflicting pain, he’d never gone as far as Roman had, even in his Death Eater days. He’d wanted to curse the man, but knew he had to continue with his charade in order to get as much information as possible. Roman had been friendly enough and certainly willing to talk about the place; he’d seemed to think he’d found a kindred spirit in Severus when he’d seen the Dark Mark on Severus’ arm.

Roman had told Severus that the sex club was downstairs from a regular Muggle dance club. The sex club was under a classic Fidelius Charm, so Roman couldn’t tell Severus where it was located, nor could any patron in the Muggle dance club see the door leading to it. However, unlike the door to the sex club, the dance club wasn’t hidden. Anyone could go into it, but it was under a modified Fidelius Charm so Roman couldn’t tell Severus where it was either, nor could he take Severus there. The only way, then, to have access to the sex club was to have an invitation directly from the owner, who was the Secret-Keeper, or to find the dance club on one’s own and use the pass-phrase at the bar to get in.

But even though Roman couldn’t tell Severus where the club was, he could describe it in detail. There was a viewing room with LCD monitors showing the different workers who were available for selection. If a screen was dark, it meant that the worker was already servicing a customer.

A photo of each worker and basic details, such as age, height, and weight, were next to the monitor so that if a live feed wasn’t available, the customer could still see what the worker looked like, and decide if he wanted to return later to make use of that specific worker.

Roman had explained that the price charged for an evening with a worker was based on categories of what the customer wanted to do. The more extreme the desires of the customer, the higher rated the category, and of course the more expensive. Severus had asked what sort of limits there were on what could be done to a worker, and Roman had just smiled. "As long as you don’t kill them, you’re fine. There are mediwizards on the payroll to heal any damage."

Severus had wondered if Roman wasn’t worried about being recognized later if one of the workers was to escape, but Roman hadn’t been concerned. "There’s no way out. The doors are magically warded, and the workers are all Muggles. They get Obliviated before they’re released."

"Are you ready, Henry?" John’s voice broke into Severus’ thoughts. John had come out from behind the bar and was standing next to Severus. Severus nodded and followed as John led him towards the back of the club.

"Is there anything in particular you would like me to do for you?" They’d entered a room that Severus would call warm but functional. There was a large king-sized bed in the center of it. A sofa and straight-backed chair were along the side wall. Clearly the bed was meant to be the main place for activity. Nothing but vanilla sex would be happening here.

Severus’ disappointment must have shown, because John said, "Things here are pretty straightforward, but if you’d like, there are some spare neckties and belts in the closet over there. I won’t mind if you want to use them, as long as you’re not too – enthusiastic."

Severus watched as John took off his waistcoat, then slowly unbuttoned and removed his shirt. John was one of the more handsome men that Severus had seen, not just during his time here in the States searching for Harry, but in all his years as a Death Eater.

Severus enjoyed taking the dominant role in sex. When so much of his life had been out of his control, it was the one place he could still be in charge. He enjoyed seeing his partners writhe and cry, helpless beneath him, begging for him to allow them to come. He never actually caused any permanent damage, but he did things to instill pain. There was nothing more sensual than having the power to bring a beautiful man to tears. Outwardly, it appeared that he was performing sadistic acts because it was part of being a Death Eater, but Severus knew the truth.

He would have done those things even without Voldemort’s commanding them.

Severus examined the pale skin of John’s naked chest. His cock stirred at the thought of how much he wanted to leave marks on that perfect, flawless skin. He had enough skill to heal any wounds he would inflict so that no scars would be left.

He moved slowly towards John until they were only a few inches apart. The younger man seemed nervous, looking down at the floor, unable to meet Severus’ gaze. He obviously didn’t want a disappointed customer on his hands or else he wouldn’t be here.

"When was the last time you did this?" Severus asked.

"I started out here almost ten years ago. I’ve been tending bar for about a year. Most customers think I’m too old now, but the manager likes me and asked me to stay on. It’s not as if I know how to do much of anything else. I’ve been doing this since I left home when I was thirteen."

"You won’t mind if I use the ties and the belt?" Severus asked.

John licked his lower lip, then said, "Just, not too hard, please? I can take some pain, but customers can get carried away. This really isn’t that sort of place."

"Do you know of any places like that?" Severus asked, trying to make his question sound as if he was asking out of mere curiosity.

"I’ve heard rumours of a place in Highland Park, but I’ve never actually been there so I can’t say if it’s a real place or just someone’s fantasy."

Severus reached out and threaded his fingers through John’s hair, then pulled the man towards him and kissed him harshly, pushing his tongue inside and exploring the sweet taste of John’s mouth.

When he broke the kiss, John was panting. Severus pushed his thigh in between John’s legs and felt the hardness there. "I won’t do anything to you that I can’t fix," Severus told him, feeling the other man tremble at his words.

As he pressed John down onto the bed, Severus thought that at least tonight wouldn’t be a total loss – sex with a handsome young man, and a lead for tomorrow night.

Chapter 2: Waiting, and Hoping

It was ten in the morning, and Draco was in his office at the Ministry of Magic, his laptop open to Yahoo webmail as he waited for Severus to log on to the chat feature. Granger and Weasley were arguing in the corner, and he was doing his best to tune them out. Still, he couldn’t help overhearing bits and pieces of their conversation.

"…don’t trust the greasy git…"

"…Harry did, that’s what counts…"

"…always hated Harry! Why should he want to help?"

This argument had been going on for months. No matter what Granger said, Weasley was never going to trust that Severus was doing everything he possibly could to find Harry.

Draco supposed he couldn’t blame Weasley. It wasn’t as if Severus had ever shown anything beside hatred and contempt. His constant rejection of Harry’s overtures of friendship made Severus appear unappreciative of Harry’s testimony on his behalf during the Death Eater Trials. The only reason Severus was a free man today was because of Harry’s persistence in having Severus’ role as a spy recognized and his record cleared of any wrong-doing.

That had all happened before Draco and Harry had become close, or Draco would have warned Harry that Severus would resent being indebted to the son of James Potter. Severus and James Potter had been enemies during their school days at Hogwarts, just like Draco and Harry had been.

Draco and Harry’s friendship had come as a surprise to everyone who knew them, although it really shouldn’t have. Their obsession with each other hadn’t actually been based on hate. The ice had broken the day that Harry had gone to the Manor to return Draco’s wand.

They’d tried for more than friendship, but Draco could tell there was always someone else on Harry’s mind. After a year of being together, he’d confronted Harry about it. That was when Harry had confessed how he felt about Severus.

Draco, being Slytherin, normally was adept at reading people, but he had to admit that he’d been shocked by Harry’s revelation. Draco could see no reason for Harry to feel as he did. At school, Severus and Harry had seemed to harbor a mutual loathing for each other.

Harry wouldn’t go into details, but his feelings had changed towards Severus after viewing some of Severus’ memories. Severus had thought he was dying from the bite he’d received from Nagini in the Shrieking Shack and had given some of his memories to Harry. Whatever those memories had consisted of had changed the way Harry felt about the man.

Draco had ended their relationship, but they’d continued the friendship, and Draco had encouraged Harry to not give up on trying to get to know Severus. But the more that Harry had tried to connect with Severus, the more cruelly Severus had rejected him. Finally, Draco couldn’t stand to see Harry hurt anymore, and he went to find out why Severus was running away. It wasn’t like Severus to back down from a challenge, or a Potter.

Draco was sure that if it had been anyone else who’d tried to talk to Severus about Harry, they would have been cursed into oblivion. As it was, a special bond existed between him and Severus, forged the night that Severus had killed Dumbledore when he could not, reinforced later as they lay in each other’s arms, finding solace and forgiveness in each other’s bodies. Draco would always be allowed to go places within Severus’ heart that no one else could.

So Severus had told Draco the truth. He, too, would not speak of the details of those memories he’d given Harry, but it was because of those memories that Severus refused to see him. Severus had been sure he was dying when he’d given them up, so allowing Harry to see the most intimate and raw details of his life hadn’t been a concern.

Except that Severus had lived, and now Harry knew Severus’ shameful secrets, secrets that gave Harry an advantage, power, over Severus that was simply unacceptable. So he’d turned his back on Harry and refused to have anything to do with him.

Draco had stayed friends with the both of them, always trying to work out a way to bridge the gap that existed between them. Thus far, he’d failed miserably.

Everyone except their closest friends thought that Harry and Draco were lovers. They’d been living together as roommates at twelve, Grimmauld Place for four years. Harry hadn’t cared what the wizarding world thought, and actually welcomed the false impression. It kept star-struck fans of both sexes away, allowing him to concentrate on his Auror duties. Draco didn’t mind because he, too, was busy with his job at the Ministry, heading the Wizard-Muggle Partnership Department, or WMPD.

The WMPD had been created after the Salem Witch hunts with the purpose of educating wizards and Muggles about the other’s cultures and heritage. It was a common but incorrect belief amongst wizards that every time a Muggle witnessed magic, they were Obliviated. More often than not, the incident went undetected. But because Muggles didn’t understand what they’d seen, they’d become fearful. Wizards, on the other hand, because of their ability to do magic, felt superior to Muggles.

Over the years, therefore, assignment to the WMPD had become a way to discipline wayward employees. No one wanted to do the job because working with Muggles had no prestige. But after the war, a late-night drunken conversation with Harry over what could be done to prevent another Voldemort from taking power had given Draco an idea.

Draco had been searching for a way to win respect back for the Malfoy name. Harry’s testimony during the Death Eater Trials on his and his mother’s behalf had kept them from going to Azkaban, and although Harry had not said anything in support of Lucius, he also hadn’t said anything against him either. Apparently that had been enough to keep Lucius free too.

Although they had their freedom, they no longer had the status and deference they previously commanded. Thus, Draco’s idea was born – he would volunteer to head up the WMPD. He would show the world that he not only rejected Voldemort’s propaganda of supremacy, he would actively work against it. And to prove he was a changed man, he’d asked Hermione Granger to volunteer along with him, as his equal. After she’d stopped laughing, she’d seen that he was serious. So she’d said yes, much to Weasley’s dismay and Draco’s delight.

Everyone was shocked when Draco’s actions not only earned the respect he’d sought but also political power in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. He hadn’t anticipated that, but he was certainly Slytherin enough to take advantage of it.

Draco had just one problem – his personal life.

The world thought he was seeing Harry. He didn’t want to appear to be cheating, but he was a normal human being. He had needs. But how could he satisfy those needs without damaging the Malfoy name that he’d worked so hard to repair?

He couldn’t use Harry, although Harry would have been understanding and obliging. He couldn’t use Severus, even though Severus would have been willing, given their history. After their first night together, they’d had many more during that hellish seventh year. But now that Draco knew how Harry felt about Severus, the older man was no longer an option for Draco’s physical needs.

Severus did end up helping Draco, but in a completely unexpected way.

One thing Severus had always excelled at was taking an existing spell or potion and improving on it. He could examine the ingredients and processes for a particular potion and envision how changing something would affect the resulting potion. Once he’d become bored with modifying others’ potions, he’d begun to experiment in creating his own. It was Severus’ skill at creating new potions and spells that had made Voldemort want Severus in his fold. While Severus had been a professor at Hogwarts, he’d only had his summers for experimentation. Those few months had been too short a period to allow him to create anything of major significance, but once the war had ended and his spying days were over, he’d been free to pursue his true calling.

Draco loved potions almost as much as he did playing politics. When Harry was engrossed in a case and Draco’s work was done for the day, he’d go to Spinner’s End and spend long hours helping Severus with whatever current spell or potion he was working on. The most impressive potion that he’d helped Severus develop had been a healing potion that would repair scar tissue, no matter how severe or how old. Severus’ voice had been raspy, almost like a loud whisper, because of excess scar tissue caused by Nagini’s bite. He could silently cast existing spells because he already knew the proper inflection to use in his head for the words. But without the use of his own voice, he would never be able to create a new spell. He needed to be able to clearly pronounce the words in order to gauge the effect different tones had upon it.

Severus had started working on the healing potion as soon as the Death Eater Trials had ended in May, 1999. It had taken Severus eleven months, but he’d done it. Not having heard his own pre-wound voice for two years, Severus had doubted at first that he’d fully recovered its original sound. As Draco listened to the man speak, though, he’d assured Severus that his voice had made a full recovery. Draco’s hardening cock, stimulated by the sultry, silk-like menace that had been present in Severus’ voice, could attest to it.

The second most impressive potion that they’d worked on was long-lasting Polyjuice Potion.

Traditional Polyjuice Potion lasted an hour. Potion Masters for centuries had been trying to find a way to extend its effectiveness. They’d tried substitutes for each ingredient and modified every brewing step and still, no success. The consensus was that there was no way to change the potion to have it last longer.

Of course, Severus was never one to accept conventional wisdom. Off and on over the years, he’d worked on the Polyjuice Potion, trying things no one else had – still, he’d had no better results than anyone else.

The answer had finally come to Severus, in the form of a Muggle magazine.

On that day, Draco had arrived carrying a stack of Muggle magazines that he was going to be using in a lecture he was preparing to give later that week. He'd been glancing through one and had left it on the table, opened to an article on the effectiveness of the nicotine patch in helping Muggles to stop smoking.

It was that article that gave Severus the idea. Instead of ingesting the potion, as had always been done, what if the delivery method was changed? A patch, applied to the skin, and the potion could continuously flow into the wizard’s system. Remove the patch, and within minutes, the wizard reverted back to himself.

Draco had helped Severus perfect it. It had taken them a year of testing and experimenting until Severus had been ready to file for a patent on the Potion Patch, not just for use with Polyjuice, but with any potion. Currently, because of the innovativeness of it, it was going to have to go through several years of testing to prove it was safe. The Ministry would keep it confidential, in case of failure, so as not to damage the reputation of the creator. It was the only way to stimulate continued experimentation. However, if approved, Severus would be a very rich man indeed. It wasn’t the money that mattered to Severus though – it would be the recognition and respect he’d have for breaking the one hour time limit of Polyjuice Potion.

Although the patch hadn't yet received Ministry approval, Draco could still take advantage of it. He became Drew, a twenty-two year old student, seeking quick one-offs at Muggle bars in Manchester.

It was one of Draco’s forays into the gay Muggle world that had led to Harry’s disappearance.

Harry never talked about his cases with Draco while they were open or unsolved. Draco knew Harry had been working on a tough one for the last month. It had started with a wizard from America being abducted in London – that much Draco knew. The morning after Draco’s night in Manchester, he’d happened to see a photo Harry had left out on the kitchen table with his case files. The photo had been of a handsome young man, with dark hair, dark eyes, and high cheekbones. He could have been a model. Draco had asked Harry who it was, and Harry had said he didn’t know. The photo had been made from the memories of the wizard kidnapping victim, and it was the man who was suspected of being the abductor.

At the time, Draco had thought he was doing Harry a favor. He’d seen a man the night before who’d looked just like the one in the photo. He told Harry the man had left alone, so Harry had hoped the man would return to the same club the next night. Draco and Harry had gone together, Draco going as himself this time because Harry was unaware of the existence of the long-lasting Polyjuice Potion. They’d just about given up hope when they’d spotted him, heading out of the door with an attractive red-haired man. They’d both followed, and Harry had made ready to stun the suspect, but the wizard had sensed their presence. He’d turned around, smiled at them, then Apparated away before Harry could cast his spell.

The intended Muggle victim’s name was Patrick, but he couldn’t tell them anything about the other man. Patrick had only just met him that night.

Harry and Draco had returned every night for a week, but their suspect never showed up again. They’d apparently scared him away from that club.

A week after that, Harry had disappeared. That had been in November, over six months ago, and Draco was losing hope that they’d ever find Harry.

A doorbell-chime sounded from the laptop. Granger and Weasley suddenly were silent. Draco opened the chat window. It was Severus, right on time.

Dragon: Any news?

HBPrince: No luck. Am going to another place tonight. One not on the list but was told the name of the town it is located in from a contact made last night.

Dragon: Okay. Nothing new here. Hermione found a new return in the Muggle database, but it’s an old one just recently updated.

HBPrince: I will contact you tomorrow with tonight’s results. Don’t lose hope. I will find him.

They both signed off. Draco rubbed his hands over his eyes, ready to be interrogated.

"Well?" snarled Weasley, and Draco sighed.

"No luck. Did you really think that if Severus had found Harry, he’d have waited until now to let us know?" Draco replied with an air of contempt.

"No, but I also don’t think Snape is really trying to find him. And if he did find Harry, he’d probably kill him, hide the body and –"

"Ron! Just stop," Granger chided. "This isn’t helping."

Weasley turned to Granger. "Snape could have faked those memories. It’s stupid to think that buildings would even have memories."

Draco wondered how she could put up with him, having to explain this over and over, day after day.

"Ron, the theory is sound," Granger snapped back. "And it’s not the buildings that have the memories. It’s the particles that make up the buildings, and pavement, and anything else that the potion is applied to. It will all contribute to the memory. The theory is that everything, even inert objects, have a life force pulsing through them. That’s where the saying ‘if walls could talk’ came from. Well, Snape found a way to make the walls talk."

Draco watched in amusement as Weasley threw up his hands in frustration. Why did Weasley continue to argue about this? Granger would win. She always did, because she was right.

"I just don’t trust him," Weasley said, pointing at Draco but looking at Granger. "He was the one who lured Harry to that club in Manchester. If that hadn’t happened, Harry wouldn’t have been kidnapped. Harry’s probably already dead and it’s all his fault!"

Now Draco was angry. He didn’t care what Weasley thought about him or Severus, but he would not sit idly by and listen as Weasley spoke of Harry being dead.

"If that’s what you really think," Draco said in a tone so low it was almost a whisper, "then leave. Now. And do not come back."

The silence that followed was deafening. Then Weasley blushed, looking miserable. "I don't trust Snape. He's always hated Harry. He treats Harry like dirt. All Harry has ever wanted was to get to know the man – I have no idea why, but that doesn't matter. Would it be too much for Snape to just meet with him, even for an hour? He couldn't even take the time to thank Harry after he'd been cleared by the Wizengamot. Six years Harry has tried to see him, and the bastard has refused him every time. Why, now, is he so keen to search for Harry when he wouldn't accept so much as an owl from him?"

"Maybe," Draco said through gritted teeth, "because now that Harry is missing, Severus realizes he’s made a mistake. Maybe, with the possibility that Harry could die, he regrets those years he’s wasted, rejecting Harry. Sometimes we don’t appreciate the things we have in our lives until they are taken away."

Draco couldn’t tell Weasley the entire truth, about what he and Severus had seen in the building’s memories. He’d told Weasley and Granger that Severus had the bottle of memories with him, but the bottle was actually locked in the Malfoy vault at Gringotts. Neither one wanted to take a chance of having those memories seen until Harry was found.

"You should be the one out there searching for Harry," Ron insisted. "You’re supposed to be his friend."

"Weasley," Draco said, tired of repeating the reasons for what seemed the hundredth time. "I can’t go. It would tip the kidnapper off that we’re on to him if I suddenly left for America, and he really might kill Harry then. We know that Harry isn’t dead because his vault at Gringotts is still in his name. His will hasn’t been activated.

"Severus was the perfect choice to go. He hasn’t appeared in public since the Death Eater Trials, so it’s not as if anyone is going to notice him gone from Spinner’s End. As a Death Eater, he has experience in dealing with the unsavory types of characters that inhabit the underworld of sex clubs. And he looks the type that would want some – variety – in his sex life. Why would I need to make use of those services? I’d be able to find any number of partners willing and able to do all sorts of kinky sex acts."

Weasley looked as if he were going to be ill. "That’s just gross. I don’t need to hear about your or Snape’s perverted sex lives! I’m just tired of sitting here week after week with no news of Harry. Just how many of those sorts of sex clubs can there be in Chicago?"

"It’s not the number that’s the problem. We don’t have access to the details of the case Harry was working on. I only know the basics because of what Harry told me when we were trying to catch that wizard in Manchester, and the little that we got from the building memories. I don’t know who the wizard was that Harry went to see in Chicago, the one that started Harry’s investigation, so I don’t know how to find out where he escaped from. And we know from watching the building memories that the wizard who kidnapped Harry told him the sex club is under the Fidelius Charm. That means searching the entire Chicago area, plus the suburbs. It’s fortunate that Severus met that wizard Roman, or we wouldn’t know about the Muggle dance club or the pass-phrase. It’s not like Severus can just walk into a club and yell, ‘James sent me to play the game.’ He has to be discreet about it. He has to go to a club several times to determine the sort of patrons that frequent the place before he can decide if he should even try the pass-phrase."

"How do you know Snape is telling you the truth about a pass-phrase? ‘James sent me to play the game’? It’s too much of a coincidence that the name James would be used. It sounds like something Snape would make up out of spite. Everyone knows he hated James Potter and because Harry looks so much like his father, Snape hated him too."

Before Draco could answer, Granger spoke up. She’d been uncharacteristically silent, but Weasley had been more worked up than usual too. She’d probably just let him talk so he could blow off some steam. "Ron, Severus has done some pretty cruel things to Harry, but I think Draco is right. I was there when Severus left. I saw his eyes. He was really worried. I think he regrets not…" She paused, obviously uncomfortable speaking about Severus’ feelings. Then she continued. "Severus is one of the best Legilimens and Occlumens around. He had to be in order to spy on Voldemort. Part of what he’s been doing is using Legilimency to see if he can find anyone who’s been to the sex club. That’s how he learned the pass-phrase. The other wizard couldn’t divulge the location because it’s under the Fidelius Charm. I mean, if you were owner of a wizard sex club that abducted Muggles to work there, it just makes sense to place it under Fidelius. And knowing the pass-phrase gets you in."

Weasley was quiet after that, arms crossed over his chest, apparently sulking at Granger’s support of Draco.

"Look, I’ve work to do," Draco finally said. "There’s nothing more going to happen with Severus today. I’m still trying to break the charm on Harry’s case files, and that takes a lot of concentration. I have meetings to go to. I have to keep up appearances, so, if you don’t mind…"

Draco stood up and Weasley and Granger followed suit.

"Do you want me to come back and work on the files while you’re at your meeting?" Granger asked tentatively.

Draco sighed. He hated owing her, but she was Harry’s friend too.

"That would be a big help. Thank you. Maybe you’ll think of something that I haven’t yet. My meeting is at two this afternoon."

"All right. I’ll be back then."

Without thinking, Draco reached out and gave her arm a slight squeeze. Harry’s absence was painful for all of them, especially when they thought of what he was being forced to do in that place.

A few minutes after Granger and Weasley had left, a knock sounded. Draco glanced up from Harry’s files to see Pansy peering around the door.

"Hi, lover. Are you busy? I just saw the Gryffindorks leaving. They didn’t seem too happy, so I’m guessing there was no news on Harry?"

Draco leaned back and rubbed his eyes as she came in and sat down in front of his desk.

"No, nothing at all." Draco sighed deeply. "Pansy, I know I can trust you. I’m really worried. I’m afraid that if Harry’s not found soon…" He couldn’t say it. He was afraid that if he put his fear into words, that somehow, he might be responsible for making it come true.

Pansy stood and walked around behind him and began rubbing the tension out of his shoulders. "I don’t know why you broke up with him. You were crazy about him. You still are. And he cares for you too. Just because he has unresolved feelings for Snape – as ludicrous as that seems to anyone who saw those two together in Potions classes – doesn’t mean he can’t love you too. It’s not as if there is a finite amount of love in the world. And you and Severus have feelings for each other. I don’t see why the three of you can’t see what’s there, right in front of you."

Draco moaned, his muscles relaxing under the assault of Pansy’s fingers. "If anyone heard me, they’d think you were doing more than just rubbing my back."

"Let them. You’re Draco Malfoy. You’ve done more to heal Wizard/Muggle relations than any wizard in modern times. You deserve to let yourself go and have some fun, so don’t ignore what I said. I know you love them both. Don’t deny it."

He leaned back further and tilted his head so that he was peering at her upside down. "You know me too well, Pans. But I can’t get distracted by my feelings right now. Once we find Harry, I promise you, I’ll have a talk with him." Pansy gave him a dirty look. "Okay, I’ll have a talk with them? Happy now?"

"Almost. Come to dinner tonight with Theo, Gregg, and me. We’ve been missing you. You need to take a break. You’re not getting anywhere with Harry’s case files. If you take a night off, you’ll have a fresh perspective in the morning."

Draco brought his head back up so he was sitting straight now, and swiveled his chair so he was facing Pansy, and pulled her into his lap. "It’s too bad I don’t fancy girls, Pans – you’d have made the perfect wife. You know exactly what I need." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. "How are Theo and Gregg doing? I’ve been so preoccupied that I haven’t been keeping up with the gossip."

"Gregg has a girlfriend. He’s been seeing her for ages and never told anyone. He met her while he was in the States. There was a death in the family, and, well, with his father in Azkaban, he went as the Goyle family representative. He’s still with the Department of Magical Games and Sports. You know how he’s been going to different countries, promoting the charity Quidditch matches? Apparently he’s been making side trips to the States to see her.

"The only reason I know about it is because Theo bumped into them along the Lakefront in Chicago a while back and he’d mentioned it to me. Theo was there researching the originality of a new charm that was submitted for a patent."

"So he’s still with the Department of Experimental Charms and Potions?" Draco asked. "He was upset when the Ministry decided to merge the two departments together and then forced his supervisor into retirement. I thought that he was going to resign because he didn’t like his new supervisor."

"He’s still with them," she replied. "He gets along with his supervisor just fine now. He was given a promotion and gets to travel more, so I think that made him happy. He’d been seeing someone too, a few years ago, but it didn’t last. I don’t think they were together all that long, but he took their split hard. I remember him saying that nice guys don’t ever get anywhere. I guess she had a thing for someone else who wasn’t treating her very well, but she picked the other guy over Theo. He’s finally found someone new. He seems really happy, but I can’t get him to tell me who she is. You were always good with getting information out of him. Maybe you can ask him about her tonight."

"He fire-called me about a month ago and said he had some tickets he’d received from Gregg to that charity Quidditch match next week-end, the one with Victor Krum, but I’ve been so down about Harry that I told him I didn’t really feel like going. It has been a while since we’ve seen each other. Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll go if he gives me the details on this new girl of his. Are you going to come and get me out of the office then?" Draco asked, giving her a slap on the bum as she stood up from his lap.

"Well if I don’t, you’ll end up forgetting. I’ll be here about seven, and we can get drinks first before meeting Theo and Gregg at nine."

"Okay, see you then."

He stood up from the desk and walked her to the door, but before she left, he told her, "Thanks, Pans, for watching out for me. You really are a good friend. You know, Harry appreciates why you wanted to turn him over to Voldemort. Even though he didn’t have much of a family of his own, he understands your loyalty towards your sister, and trying to keep her safe. If he’d had a little sister and Voldemort was using her as leverage, he told me he might have done the same thing as you did if he’d been in your place. You were scared. We all were. He doesn’t hold anything we did against us."

She gave him a hug. "Thanks, Draco. He is a pretty good guy, for a Gryffindork. You’ll find him, I know you will. See you at seven."

Chapter 3: Four A.M. Chicago Time

Do not lose hope. I will find him.

Severus rubbed his eyes. He’d typed that in as much for himself as for Draco.

He didn’t want to give up hope, but so much time had passed since Harry’s disappearance, that he was growing concerned about Harry’s being able to endure working in a place like that for so long.

Working – that was really the wrong choice of word, but he didn’t want to start thinking of Harry as a prisoner, or he might slip up during one of his conversations. He doubted that if he used the term prisoner or sex slave he’d be allowed into the wizarding sex club.

It was after four in the morning, but he couldn’t get to sleep. He kept thinking he was missing something, some clue, as to who was really behind Harry’s abduction. Draco needed to break the charm on Harry’s case files, it was as simple as that. They’d been lucky that Harry had at least left Draco a note about where he was going that night.

Severus could still remember Draco’s Apparating directly inside his home, and in such a panic, it was a miracle that he hadn’t splinched himself. It had taken Severus several minutes to get Draco calm enough so he could understand what Draco was trying to tell him – Harry had been kidnapped.

Draco had been in a meeting all day the day before, then had gone to dinner with some of his guests. He’d gone straight to bed when he’d arrived home. He’d thought Harry was asleep so didn’t want to wake him. Draco had slept in late that morning and had assumed Harry had gone in to the Ministry at his normal time. It wasn’t unusual for them to go several days without seeing each other, especially when Harry was engrossed in a case.

But then Granger had fire-called Draco just as he’d been making his way into the kitchen. Harry was supposed to have met her for lunch but hadn’t shown up. She’d gone to his office and they’d said he hadn’t come in that morning.

Draco’d suddenly had a bad feeling, and immediately went to check at the coffee pot. If they needed to leave each other a note, that’s where they’d leave it, where it was sure to be seen.

Draco – I’m meeting an informant. He says he has information on the Muggle kidnapping case. 9 o’clock tonight, in Knockturn Alley behind The Angel Club. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.

So Draco had Apparated straight to Spinner’s End. He probably should have gone to Shacklebolt, but Draco and Severus both were distrustful of the Auror Department. Plus, Severus had the Particle Pensieve Potion – the Auror Department didn’t. After what they’d eventually ended up seeing in regards to Harry’s kidnapping, it was good that Draco had gone to Severus instead.

The Particle Pensieve Potion was one of Severus’ easier creations. He’d come up with it after reading a Muggle science fiction book series. In it, the author had written that he believed everything in the universe is connected and has a life force, even objects that are inert, such as buildings and pavement, glass and stone. Even dust particles in the air have life.

The Particle Pensieve Potion was made by diluting a wizard’s own memories with plain water. It didn’t matter what the memories were, so something innocuous could be selected. The resulting potion would then be applied to the inert objects. The wizard’s memory acted like an enzyme, attaching itself to the memory of the inert objects. When the wizard cast the spell to recall his memories, the memories from the inert object came too. Severus wasn’t sure how many times memories could be extracted from the same inert object. He’d tested it on the corner of his lab ten different times, and all ten times, the returned memory was the same, with no difference in quality among any of the samples.

The difficult part, though, was sorting through the memories to find the correct time frame. He hadn’t really tried to market the potion because of the difficulty in viewing the memories once they were obtained. If a building were one hundred years old, then there were a hundred years worth of memories to sort through. It was an almost impossible task.

But Draco had worked out how to manipulate them so that they were controlled similar to a Muggle device called a DVD player. The memories could be reversed and then played forward, or they could be paused and viewed in slow motion.

With a large batch of the potion, Draco and Snape Apparated to Knockturn Alley. Even during the day, it was gloomy and dark – all the better to keep hidden the identities of wizards who would patronize shops barely on the side of legal. The Angel Club was deserted, though, as it catered to a late-night crowd.

Because they hadn’t been sure exactly where Harry might have been abducted, they’d taken memories from not only the back of the club where Harry’s note had said he was meeting his informer, but also from along the entire length of the alleyway. The precise location of Harry’s abduction might have been somewhere else other than behind the club. Harry might have had to give chase down the alley, or he might have been chased himself.

After extracting the memories, they’d Apparated back to Spinner’s End and dumped the memories into Severus' Pensieve. They both peered down into the glass-like surface of the memories as Draco cast his reversing spell, and watched from above the alley as time moved backwards. It was two o’clock in the afternoon when they’d begun, so they hadn’t had to search backward very far. Because the memory they’d been searching for was at night, they’d darkened the room to make it easier to see when they were back to nine o’clock.

Draco paused the memories at a few minutes before nine. They could both see Harry’s unmistakable mop of messy black hair as he stood alone in the alley, waiting.

"Ready?" Draco had asked Severus, clearly trying to hide the trepidation in his voice but failing.

Severus had reached out and touched his shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Yes. Let’s go."

They’d dipped their faces into the silver substance of memories and found themselves standing a few feet from Harry. He had his wand in his hand and was standing in a defensive posture. Harry could have easily Apparated away if there’d been any sign of trouble, so it was puzzling to them as to how he could have been captured.

They didn’t have to wait long until a dark-robed figure came towards Harry from the end of the alley. As the figure approached, it was apparent that the hood of the robe was pulled up over the person’s head, hiding the face from view. The figure stopped about ten feet in front of Harry and held both hands out to the side, showing that he or she was unarmed. Then the figure spoke.

"Thank you for meeting me tonight. I am taking a terrible risk in coming to you like this. If my Master finds out I have talked to you, he will kill me. But I can no longer go along with the things I’ve been asked to do."

The voice was male and raspy, sounding like a very loud whisper – sounding the way Severus used to before he’d healed the scar tissue in his neck.

"I can offer you protection. You don’t have to worry about that," Harry said. "I have the full resources of the Ministry behind me."

"You don’t understand. My Master has eyes and ears everywhere, especially in the Ministry. He has access to information that even the famous Harry Potter does not have."

"Tell me the truth about what’s going on. What is your Master making you do that you don’t want to be a part of anymore?" Harry asked.

There was a pause, as if the informant was having second thoughts, but then he continued.

"He owns a club in the States, in the Chicago area. It’s under the Fidelius Charm so I can’t tell you where it is. My Master goes to Muggle clubs here in Britain and abducts Muggles to work over there. He doesn’t want to kill them. He just wants them for sex, but the sex is – extreme. He always has sex with them first to determine if they’d be a good fit at the club, then he takes them to the States, using a private Portkey. After about three months, they are Obliviated and he returns them to where they were picked up.

"The club caters to the dark fantasies of wizards, allowing pretty much anything to be done to the workers. There is a mediwizard on site during club-hours to heal any damage, and there’s always damage. The clients are all wizards, and they are either hand-picked by my Master or have a referral from another client. It might surprise you to know the sorts of fetishes some of the pillars of society harbour deep inside their souls.

"The club is very successful. It’s been in business for about a year. My Master inherited the club from an uncle who was living in the States. At the time, it was just a plain dance club, but my Master saw its potential and changed it into a sexual fantasy club to entertain his friends. He’s managed to keep it from coming to the attention of the Muggle and wizarding authorities over there, by abducting boys and men from here, and only Muggles, never wizards. At least until he mistakenly picked up that one who escaped last month, but you know all about that, don’t you?"

Draco and Severus had watched as Harry listened to the informant spin his tale. It was obvious to them, and probably to the informant, as well, that Harry was slowly lowering his wand.

"You still haven’t answered my question," Harry persisted. "What is he making you do that you don’t want to do anymore?"

"I take care of the workers. I feed them, watch over them, show them to clients when the clients come into the club for service. I instruct the workers how to present themselves when a client is deciding what they want, and later, I get the mediwizard to heal any injuries that I cannot. I punish them if they disobey. No one really gets hurt. They don’t even have any psychological damage because they don’t remember what’s been done to them during the time they’ve spent at the club.

"But my Master is worried about you. He’s afraid you are getting too close to the truth, after you and your friend spotted him last weekend. So he sent me to kill you."

They saw Harry stiffen and point his wand at the informant, who immediately held up both of his hands. "I’m not a killer," he told Harry. "That’s why I contacted you. I cannot do what my Master has asked of me."

Harry still held his wand out warily. "I’ll help you, but you’ll have to tell me who you are first, so I can check your story out. You can stay at a safe house I have set up for situations like this. No one in the Ministry knows about it. Is that acceptable?"

Another pause before the raspy reply. "Yes, that is acceptable. But you already know my name."

The informant reached up slowly to his hood and pulled it back from his head, revealing his face to Harry for the first time that night.

Draco and Severus gasped at the same time that memory Harry did. Harry’s wand froze in his hand. "Snape!"

The name fell from Harry’s lips in a tone of disbelief and shock. Draco and Severus were likewise stunned as they stood and stared at the informant – he looked exactly how Severus had looked six years ago.

The Severus imposter had a wand now pointing at Harry – it must have been hidden in the hood of his robe – and shouted, "Stupefy!" Harry crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The imposter removed something silver from his pocket and placed it around Harry’s throat. It was a collar of some sort, with symbols, but the memory wasn’t detailed enough for Draco and Severus to be able to make out the tiny pattern. The imposter took his wand and made a small cut in his palm, then smeared the blood around the collar. The symbols glowed as they absorbed the blood, and they heard the imposter say, "With hatred in my heart, I now bind you." As soon as he’d finished speaking the words, the opening clasp on the collar disappeared – it seemed that there was no longer a way to remove it.

"That was all too easy, Harry." The imposter spoke clearly now, the raspiness in his voice gone. "I’m going to enjoy having you work for me in my club. Only, I won’t be returning you. You’re mine now, always."

The imposter knelt down and pulled Harry’s limp body against him, then took out a chain from underneath the top of his robe. There was some sort of charm or amulet on the chain, and the imposter took it in his hand, brought it to his lips, then whispered something, too low for Draco and Severus to hear. The imposter and Harry disappeared.

When Draco and Severus had left the memories, neither one had spoken at first. They’d just stared at the Pensieve. What they’d seen had badly shaken them both.

"We need a plan," Draco had finally said. "We can’t let anyone see that memory either. No one would believe that wasn’t you. I’ll secure it in the Malfoy vault at Gringotts."

Then Draco had torn his eyes away from the Pensieve and turned to Severus. "I know you don’t want to do it, but there isn’t anyone else who can. You need to go to Chicago. You need to try and find him. You haven’t been out in public for six years, so you can leave Britain without being noticed. We can’t let the kidnapper know that we know he has Harry. If I went, or Weasley or Granger, and suddenly showed up in Chicago, he might just kill Harry. Please, Severus!"

Six months had passed and Severus still could not forget how frightened Draco had looked, nor the pleading tone of his voice.

What was worse, Severus could not forget the icy feeling of his own fear as it pumped through his veins. All he could think of, over and over, were the last words of the imposter before he Portkeyed away: I won’t be returning you. You’re mine now, always.

Severus took a deep breath, trying to blank his mind of the memory so that he could get to sleep. He couldn’t afford to give in to the despair caused by the possibility that he might never see Harry alive again, that he’d never have the opportunity to tell Harry the truth about how he felt.

Harry might die, thinking that Severus hated him – when in fact, the opposite was true.

Chapter 4: Morsus Culexum

There was never anything for Harry to do when he wasn’t following instructions on the monitor. When he was desperate, he thought he’d even prefer Sebastian’s companionship, no matter how cruel the man was, to the long hours of nothingness that took up his days. At least the pain made him aware that he was still alive, that he could still feel. He had to be careful when he was alone. He could easily become lost in his thoughts, his desire to turn back the clock to that moment when he’d been taken by surprise and dropped his guard, allowing Snape to stun and capture him.

Harry was an Auror, or at least he used to be. He wondered if Kingsley had replaced him yet, or was he keeping the position open for Harry if – no, when – he returned? Harry was the Head of the Special Investigations Branch, a new branch of the Auror Department, created to assist Muggle Investigators when there was suspicion of a crime being committed by a wizard in the Muggle world.

Harry’s current case dealt with the disappearance of Muggle teens and young adults. The disappearances had been going on for about a year, but it was only by accident that it had been brought to Harry’s attention. He had the details of the case practically memorized.

Daniel Lewis, an American wizard, had been visiting some childhood friends in Muggle London. His friends didn’t know he was a wizard. His father had been an executive at an American company doing business in Britain, and the family had lived in London for a time, leaving to return to the States when Daniel had been ten years old. When Daniel turned eleven, he’d received his letter to Dearborn, an American wizarding school in Chicago, where the family lived. Daniel had remained in contact with his friends in London, though, and had come to visit them this past summer.

They’d all gone out dancing one evening, and Daniel had left the bar with an attractive, dark-haired man with dark eyes. Daniel had never returned home. His friends had reported it to the police, but the police wouldn’t do anything except enter his name in a missing persons database. Daniel was an adult, and had willingly left the bar with the other man.

Three months later, Daniel had turned up in Chicago, filing a report with the American Aurors. The report he’d made contained an amazing, almost unbelievable story. Tom, the man he’d left the bar with, had taken him back to a hotel room. They’d spent the night together having sex, but when Daniel had gone to leave the next morning, Tom had Stupefied him. Daniel had never suspected that the other man was a wizard.

When Daniel had woken up, it had been in darkness. He’d been naked, gagged, and bound to a metal bedframe, in the same manner that Harry had been. He hadn’t taken his wand with him to the club that night because he hadn’t been expecting to run into any wizards or situations where he’d need it, and he hadn’t wanted to worry about answering questions from curious Muggles, if anyone were to see it. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway if he’d had it because it would have been taken with his clothing.

He’d tried to free himself from the bed wandlessly, but it hadn’t worked. He’d never been any good with wandless magic. He was going to have to wait for someone to come in to release him. He hadn’t had to wait long.

The man who came into his room said his name was Sebastian – and he had a wand. To a Muggle, it would only look like a stick. But because Daniel was a wizard, he recognized what it was.

Sebastian explained to Daniel what was expected of him, and what he said made Daniel sick to his stomach.

The place where Daniel was being held was a private club for fulfilling men’s sexual fantasies. The owner personally selected the boys and men who would be working there, and Daniel had been selected. If he co-operated, he’d be allowed to leave after three months. If he didn’t, he’d be killed, and in a most painful way.

So Daniel co-operated. The report left out the details, but it was clear what had been done to him, by reading the attached mediwizard’s report.

All the men who came to see him were wizards – they all had wands. They also seemed to be from many different countries. There were British accents, American accents, French speakers, German speakers, Spanish speakers, and many more foreigners whose language Daniel didn’t recognize – not that it really mattered what language was used when it came to the things they did to Daniel.

Daniel never had an opportunity to steal any of the wands. He was always bound in some way. It wasn’t until Sebastian came to see him, to tell him that the three months were up and he was being allowed to go home, that he had his chance.

Sebastian had clothes with him, and told Daniel to shower and get dressed. As Daniel was dressing, he saw Sebastian raise his wand at him. Daniel wasn’t about to wait to be hit by whatever curse the wizard planned to use, so he rushed forward, shoved Sebastian to the ground, and grabbing the wand out of the startled man’s hand, Stupefied him.

Because Daniel had no idea where he’d been taken, he didn’t want to chance Apparating over a long distance and splinching or killing himself. He cautiously made his way out of the building. There were doors on both sides of the hallway, all locked. He’d assumed they were other prisoners, but at that moment was focused solely on getting himself to safety. He was sure if he were caught, he’d be killed since now they knew he was a wizard too.

He found some stairs at the end of the hall and went up and through a door at the top. The door opened into an empty club. He reasoned it must be daytime and the club wasn’t open yet. The club was huge, and he had no idea which way to go to get out.

It wasn’t completely empty though. There was a man who’d just come through another door – a door with daylight behind it. The man was pushing a dolly stacked with cases of beer, making his way over to the bar. Daniel crept along the wall. He was almost at the entrance when the man stocking the bar saw him and shouted for him to stop. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, he ran out the door, just managing to miss being hit by a Stupefy.

The bright sunlight was blinding after so many months spent in the dim light of his cell. He had to blink several times before he could make out shapes and sizes of buildings. The position of the sun told him it was mid-day. He didn’t recognize where he was. It could be anywhere! There was a busy street in front of him, and stores with glass fronts all around. There was a little plaza, with a fountain and a large open area where some children were playing.

Then he saw it – every major city had them, it seemed, and on just about every corner too. Starbucks.

He told the girl behind the counter that he was a tourist and he’d become lost – could she please tell him what city he was in?

That was when things became hazy for Daniel. The girl told him the town he was in, and he knew it was near Chicago. Only now, he couldn’t remember what she’d told him. He just knew that he was near enough his own home that he could safely Apparate.

He Apparated straight into his living room and fire-called his father at work. It was an emotional reunion. His parents had thought he was dead after all this time. They encouraged him to file a report with the Magical Law Enforcement Department in Chicago. And because the crime had begun in London, a copy of the case file was sent to Harry’s department for assistance.

Daniel was in pretty good shape, considering his experiences, and was willing to speak with Harry about his ordeal as long as Harry came to Chicago to see him. To make things simpler, Harry asked if he could view Daniel’s memories in a Pensieve. Daniel was reluctant at first – he didn’t want anyone to witness what he’d been through – so Harry proposed a compromise. He’d examine just the memories from the very beginning, when he’d met the wizard at the bar, and the end, when he’d escaped.

Tom, the wizard who’d picked Daniel up in the club, was attractive – he had dark, medium-length wavy hair, dark brown eyes and flawless skin. He was tall, close to six feet, and moved gracefully. It was easy to see why Daniel would’ve wanted to spend the night with him. Harry discreetly skipped over the memory of Daniel and the wizard having sex, but stopped to view the abduction. There wasn’t much to that part of the memory, though. Daniel had dressed, kissed Tom good-bye, then had been immediately Stupefied. There was nothing more until Daniel woke up and met Sebastian, the caretaker at the sex club. Sebastian was also attractive, with close-cropped fair hair and blue eyes.

What bothered Harry the most about Daniel’s abduction was his description of the doors along the hallway. In reviewing the Pensieve memory, Harry had counted six doors on each side. That meant another eleven victims if all the rooms were occupied. Why hadn’t anyone reported their loved ones missing?

It turned out that once Harry had started to dig, there were a number of similar cases, going as far back as a year. But the cases had never been connected until now. The victims had disappeared from all over Britain. They were all Muggle males, between the ages of nineteen and twenty-eight. All were attractive, although there was nothing else in common in their looks. Fair-haired and dark, blue-eyed and brown, tall, short, trim, muscled – if anything, their appearances were as far different from each other as possible. Harry supposed it was to give the wizard ‘customers’ a choice.

The abductions fit a pattern, too. One person a month was being kidnapped, and it happened within a week of another victim being ‘found’. Whoever was doing it kept the victim for one to three months, released him, and immediately replaced him with a new victim.

And none of them remembered what had happened. They weren’t even classified as being abducted because they couldn’t recall the circumstances surrounding their disappearance. They didn’t remember leaving their homes, they didn’t remember what had happened to them while they were gone, and they didn’t remember how they’d ended up getting back. Because of the lack of detail, and the fact that they’d all returned unharmed, no further investigation had been done.

As he’d begun to interview the different victims, it became clear that they had no memory of what had happened to them because they’d all been Obliviated.

There were ways to break through the memory block that the Obliviation had created, but after knowing what had happened to Daniel, Harry couldn’t do that to any of the other Muggles. Once the block was broken, they’d remember everything. It was probably for the best that they didn’t remember.

After Harry had been captured and imprisoned, he was glad that none of the Muggles could recall what had been done to them. As strong a wizard as Harry was, both mentally and physically, the horrible tortures he had to endure day in and day out were on the verge of breaking him. If only he had access to his magic, he thought, and subconsciously his hand reached up to his throat, his fingers rubbing along the designs etched into the silver collar.

Snape had told him that the collar was an artifact left over from Voldemort’s store of dark magical items. Whoever wore the collar would lose all access to magic. The collar was fused closed by the blood from a wizard who felt pure hatred toward the wizard wearing it. More than the loss of his magic, more than the rapes and the pain from being tortured, was the overwhelming sadness in Harry’s heart that Snape could hate him so much, especially after all Harry had done to reach out to the man and befriend him.

Harry was startled from his thoughts by the low sounding beep coming from the monitor’s speakers.

STOP CRYING

Harry hadn’t even realized he had tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away with the palms of his hands.

MASTER IS HERE TO SEE YOU

GET THE ITEMS FROM THE TRAY

LIE FACE DOWN

Harry’s heart began to race. It was too soon! He didn’t know for sure how far apart the visits were spaced since he had no way of telling time, but he was sure it had only been a few days since the last visit.

His hands trembling, he walked over to the door and picked up the blindfold and shackles that had been shoved through the flap. He swallowed hard as he tied the green piece of silk around his eyes. He could barely keep from dropping the manacles as he lay down on the bed, weaving the chain through the metal spokes of the headboard. It took every ounce of self-control to force himself to close the manacles around his wrists. He was sure Snape enjoyed watching his submission almost as much as he enjoyed beating and raping him.

Harry pressed his forehead down onto the mattress, and waited. The sound of the metal door creaking open told him that Snape had entered the room. He desperately tried to keep his breathing even as he heard the click of boots getting closer to the bed.

"Such an obedient little whore, aren’t you, Harry?" Snape’s raspy voice began to taunt. "I’m disappointed in you. You used to have such spirit, such fight. The way you closed those manacles around your wrists makes me think there isn’t much left of the boy-hero who killed the Dark Lord."

Harry felt the mattress dip down as Snape sat next to him. He still did not move. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out because he knew what was coming next.

Snape’s hand pressed at his entrance, a cold wetness slicking his hole, then a large plug was slowly and painfully inserted into his arse. Snape never prepared him, wanting it to be as painful as possible. He liked having Harry filled with something during these sessions. At least it seemed like a normal plug today, nothing with sharp protrusions or burning properties. Snape was particularly fond of ginger.

Harry’s back broke out in a sweat. What would Snape use on him today? Compared to the creativity of the other clients, Snape was fairly predictable – but then, he was also the most brutal.

"You know, Harry, no one wants a partner that just lies there and takes it. There’s no fun in that. Maybe…" And Snape paused, taking his time to finish his sentence as if he were only thinking things through as he spoke. "Maybe I need to replace you. Draco is looking very nice these days. What do you think? He’s the type that would enjoy working in a place like this."

"No!" Harry spoke before he could stop himself. He knew in his mind that Snape was only trying to rile him up, but the thought of Draco enduring these same tortures, being fucked and abused, day in and day out, by perverted old wizards made him ill. "Please – I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t bring Draco here. If it makes it more fun for you, then I’ll fight back. Just please – leave Draco alone."

Snape laughed when Harry had finished. "Oh, Harry – now that’s what I want to hear. It’s so much more satisfying to have to punish you if you’ve given me a reason to do it. You always were such an insolent brat. I could never give you what you deserved back in school. But things are different now. I can’t begin to tell you how satisfying it is, having you – one of the most powerful wizards alive – helpless and at my mercy because I’ve taken away your magic."

Harry felt Snape’s fingers as they brushed along the collar, then Snape grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back and kissed him harshly. He wrapped his other hand around Harry’s throat, applying a light pressure. It wasn’t enough to cut off his air supply, yet, but the threat was there.

Harry tried to pull away, to free his mouth from Snape’s, but his struggles just spurred the man on, causing Snape to bite down on his lower lip, the iron taste of blood flooding his mouth.

Finally, Snape let Harry go and stood up. Before Harry could take a full breath, a loud crack reverberated throughout the room and pain exploded on Harry’s thighs. He tried to brace himself for the next blow, but it came too quickly, this time on his left arse cheek. The blows continued, raining down along his exposed back, arse and legs.

Begging would do no good, but the words came out anyway. "Please," he choked out in a sob, "please stop." The blindfold was soon soaked with his tears. He’d pray for unconsciousness, but relief would only be temporary – Snape always revived him.

After what seemed like an eternity, the beating stopped, but Harry barely noticed. The pain continued to burn throughout his body; his entire back felt as if it were on fire. Then the bed dipped again, and Harry prepared himself for the worst part of the beating.

A hand began to gently stroke his back, lightly moving over the welts that had just been laid down. Soothing words came out of the mouth that had just drawn blood. Caring arms turned Harry to his side and gently caressed Harry’s body in a loving embrace. Harry wanted to pull away, to tune out the words of comfort, but instead he found himself leaning in to the hug, pillowing his head on Snape’s chest and crying.

"Shhh, Harry, it’s all right." Snape’s hand petted Harry’s hair as he spoke. "You did very well. I’m proud of you. You still have that spark of defiance. I suppose there is some use for you yet."

It was the same every time. The mind fuck was worse than any of the physical abuse Snape meted out, but Harry couldn’t resist the comfort and caring the man offered, no matter how contrived it was. It was the only time since his imprisonment had begun that he was shown any kindness, any tenderness, and he’d take whatever he could get.

Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that, but eventually, the peacefulness came to an end.

"I’ve been experimenting with some new spells. I think this is the perfect time to try one out."

Harry shivered, his stomach churning. Snape enjoyed using a whip or crop to start out his sessions, casting Rennervate to keep Harry conscious whenever he’d start to black out from the pain, but he’d beg for the whip any day over being used as a guinea pig for one of Snape’s spells.

Harry felt Snape’s hands around his ankles as he tied first the left one, then the right, to the corner of the bedframe. Harry pulled against the bonds, testing them – he wasn’t going anywhere.

"Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito?" Snape asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You wouldn’t think that something so small could cause such discomfort. Growing up in Britain, you more than likely didn’t encounter any, but they’re quite plentiful here in the States. Nasty little buggers, too. The females are the ones that bite, sucking your blood for the nutrients they need to reproduce. The cause of the itching that results from the bite is your body’s immune system response to the antigens in the mosquito’s saliva that is injected before and during its feeding. Although in the past few years, West Nile virus has become a problem here, mostly they’re an irritation. You swat at them, scratching at the places where you were bitten, but other than that, you just move indoors to get away from them.

"But what if you can’t get away? And what if there are more than just a few of them? Imagine being bitten by thousands of them, all at the same time. Even if you weren’t bound, you wouldn’t be able to kill enough to make a difference in the itching that would eventually overwhelm your senses.

"I had fun coming up with this spell, casting it on unsuspecting Muggle brats this morning when they’d disturbed my enjoyment of my coffee. I only had to make them think they were being bitten by one or two and they took off screaming to their mother.

"But then I decided I wanted to see if I could refine it, make the spell simulate a slow increase in their numbers, starting out with half a dozen as they first discover their meal, increasing to hundreds, then thousands – miniature vampires, swarming, sucking blood from every part of skin. Your body would burn with the pain of trying to fight off the poisons as they are injecting it into you at the same time they are drinking your blood."

Harry couldn’t breathe. How could Snape even think of such a spell? Harry remembered when he’d first become an Auror, he’d had to investigate a complaint of bogus potion ingredients. The shipment was supposed to have contained live Masked Assassin Bugs, but instead, live mosquitoes had been sent. Several had still been flying around the Apothecary when he’d arrived, and had bitten him. Those two or three were enough to cause him to scratch furiously at the itch that had resulted. And Snape was talking about thousands!

"Morsus Culexum!"

The effect was immediate. Harry could hear the buzzing as he felt one land on his ear. He shook his head, trying to get it off, but because there was nothing physically there, his movements did no good.

Another landed on the middle of his back, then one started biting along his thigh. More landed on his ankles, his calves, his arse, back and arms. He tried to hide his face in the crook of one elbow, but it didn’t help. The spell caused the sensation of being bitten, and that sensation permeated his entire body, whether it was exposed or not.

"I have some banking business to take care of this morning, but I’ll be back after lunch. You can tell me what you think of the spell when I return."

"No!" Harry shouted, now in a panic. The itching had barely begun and he was already feeling sick. How would he endure hours of it? "Snape, please. Please don’t leave me like this!"

"Now, Harry. You’ll be fine. Aren’t you always? I’ve never done anything to you yet that I couldn’t heal. The spell only simulates their bite. You’re in no real danger of contracting an illness."

Harry tried to turn his head to glare at Snape, but another bite on his cheek caused him to jerk and writhe to dislodge the monster by rubbing his face against the mattress. When he looked back up, Snape was gone.

"Snape!" Harry shouted. "Snape! Don’t leave me!" But there was no answer. Harry was alone in the room.

At first, Harry could identify the individual bites as they penetrated his skin, but eventually, they became one big blur of fiery, itchy pain. He strained against his bonds, his wrists and ankles becoming bruised and bloody as he tried futilely to get away. Eventually, he exhausted himself. He didn’t even have the strength to cry anymore. All he could do was lie there as the sensation of thousands of mosquitoes devouring his body enveloped him.

Chapter 5: The Underworld

Highland Park was a small, upscale town just north of Chicago. It seemed the last place Severus would have expected to find a wizarding sex club, which is why he had an unusually good feeling about tonight. What better place to locate something you don’t want found than in a place you would never look?

There was a regular Muggle dance club located in a shopping center in the downtown area. The shopping center was built around a small plaza, with a fountain at one end. Other stores in the center included a Starbucks, a Walker Brothers Restaurant, a Dairy Queen, and several clothing stores. Underneath the shopping center was a gloomy, two-level parking garage – the perfect place to hide something with the Fidelius Charm.

It was ten o’clock on Friday and the club was already packed, mostly with patrons who hadn’t gone home after work. It was a rich crowd with a wide range of ages. If anything, Severus felt underdressed without a jacket. Normally, he’d have spent time observing the entrance, watching to see the clientele and how they behaved so he’d know how to best fit in. But he was worried about how long it was taking to find Harry. He had a feeling that Harry didn’t have much time left.

The bar area was crowded, but there were three bartenders on duty – two men, one with light-colored hair and the other with brown, and a woman with coal-black hair. He ordered a Goose Island Brown Ale, one of the locally brewed beers that he’d come to develop a taste for, then chose a spot at the far end of the bar where he could observe without being disturbed. He couldn’t afford to pick the wrong bartender, though, and cast an Auditorius Charm so he could more clearly make out their conversations above the chatter of the crowd and the pounding of the music.

He waited almost thirty minutes before he heard anything of significance. An older man in a suit had walked up to the bar and spoke to the man with brown hair.

"Good evening, Crews. I’m going to be spending the night downstairs. Can you send my usual down?"

"Yes, Mr. Jones. Mr. Stark and Mr. Nevacost are waiting in the lounge for you. Sounds like you guys are planning an entertaining evening."

The older man smirked at the bartender named Crews. "Sebastian told us there’s a pretty new one that arrived on Tuesday. We plan on breaking him in tonight. Come down on your break and watch for a while. You know we always allow our sessions to be viewed. You can vote in the little contest we’re having with Bremmer – whose technique arouses you the fastest."

Crews laughed. "Well, I’m not much into breathplay, but I have to admit, Bremmer has style. The way he gags them, then holds their nose closed…it’s difficult to not get turned on watching their desperate struggle, the pleading in their eyes. He always decorates their nipples and cocks with those little bells that make the sweetest sounds as they fight for breath."

"Crews, I am offended." Mr. Jones placed his hand over his heart in a mock show of being wounded.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Jones," Crews assured him. "That little device you have – the metal cage with the needles in it – when you place that around their soft cocks, then use that spell that slowly makes them get hard…well, that never fails to get me off, watching their tears and hearing their screams as the needles begin to impale them. No one does needles and blades better than you."

"Well if you like that, you’ll love what I’m using tonight. I have a new dildo; it goes in like a normal one, but once inserted, it’s charmed to push out little spikes, like what you see on that Muggle barbed wire. Should produce some very nice screams when we start pushing it in and out."

Severus noticed the bartender’s hand drop down behind the bar, probably stroking his cock in anticipation of the torture of the poor helpless Muggle.

"You’re wicked, Mr. Jones," the bartender said, practically drooling. "You have such an imagination. I could never come up with something like that. I’ll be there, and your drink should be down in about five minutes."

Mr. Jones patted the bartender on the cheek, then turned and disappeared into the crowd. Severus tried to see where he went, but it was impossible with the Fidelius Charm. Even if Mr. Jones had stood directly in front of Severus and opened the door to the sex club, Severus would not have been able to see it.

But Severus was ecstatic – this was the place, no doubt about it. Now, he had to calm himself first before he approached Crews. Timing and presentation were everything.

Severus surreptitiously cast a Sirena Charm, and the tone of the music changed slightly, calling the patrons to the dance floor. Those at the end of the line for drinks left to dance, while the few at the head of the line became impatient. Severus joined the line at Crews’ station, and within moments was the only one in line.

"What can I get you, sir?" Crews asked, a smile gracing his face. Crews was definitely attractive, although after overhearing his conversation with Mr. Jones, Severus longed to put the barman at the receiving end of one of Jones’ inventions to see how he liked it.

"Another Goose Island, please." Severus waited for Crews to bring him the beer, checking that no one had got back in line behind him.

Crews handed him the beer and Severus gave him a ten dollar bill. "You can keep the change," he told Crews.

"Why thank you, sir." Crews rang up the drink on the cash register, and then dropped the remaining change into the glass tip jar next to his station.

Severus took a sip of his beer, then stared Crews straight in the eyes, lightly pushing into his mind. He couldn’t help but smile – the barman apparently found older men attractive, having some type of father-discipline fixation. No wonder he’d been flirtatious with Mr. Jones. He also was thinking that Severus had beautiful hair, and powerful-looking hands, wondering how they’d feel on his bare arse.

"Maybe you could help me out here?" Severus asked, speaking in his most sensual British accent that seemed to make Americans melt.

Crews flushed, clearly affected by Severus’ voice. "Certainly, sir, I’ll try. What did you need?"

"This place was recommended by a friend of mine. He said there’s a private game going on here. I was wondering if there’d be any room at the table tonight for another player?"

Crews’ eyes went wide, and for a moment, he didn’t speak. Severus caught fleeting images of himself with the bartender as Crews imagined Severus biting down harshly into the soft flesh of his neck. The poor man really needed to be fucked, and soon.

Crews recovered quickly though, and asked, "Can you tell me who recommended our game to you?"

"Of course. It was James. He said this was a good place to play – discreet, player’s choice, anything goes."

Crews smiled. "James, yes. He’s one of our favorite players. Let me get you a pass."

Crews opened the cash register again and lifted up the money drawer, removed a red piece of paper folded in half, and handed it to Severus.

Severus unfolded it and read: Left of The Depot’s men’s room. Door with sign that says PRIVATE – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Crews held his hand out, and Severus returned the paper. "Thank you so much," Severus said. "Is it all right for me to play now?"

"Yes, sir. I’ll send a message that a new player is arriving. You’ll be well taken care of. Have a good game."

Severus left the bar and made his way to the men’s room. Sure enough, he could now see another door that he hadn’t seen before.

He glanced around as he pushed open the door marked PRIVATE, but no one seemed to notice him as he left the crowded club and stepped into the silence on the other side of the door.

There was a small landing, then a wide set of red carpeted stairs leading down. An attractive young man was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairway.

"Good evening, sir," the man said as he held out his hand for Severus to shake. "Welcome to The Underworld, the premier wizarding sex club, where we fulfill all of your darkest fantasies. I’m Sebastian. I’ll be showing you around our playing areas. I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have at any time. We have a few other players here already, but there are still several places available at the table."

Severus reached out to shake the proffered hand. "Thank you, Sebastian. I’m Henry. I’m looking forward to playing tonight."

Sebastian showed Severus a lounge area, decorated in rich, dark velvets. There were several comfortable-looking chairs and sofas, but the lounge was empty now, and Severus assumed the three other wizards were busy breaking in the new worker Mr. Jones had referred to earlier. There was a large LCD screen taking up most of the wall at the end of the lounge. Sebastian told him it was used for viewing ongoing games already in progress if the players agreed to being watched.

"We have ten categories of play," Sebastian explained. "The higher the category, the more extreme the play, and of course, the higher the buy-in. You can choose to play in any category but ten."

"What is a category ten?" Severus asked, curious as to what would be prohibited in a club like this.

"We haven’t had anyone really want a category ten game. It’s too expensive, and category nine is close enough to a ten to satisfy those urges. A ten is a death category. But, really, nine allows for unconsciousness – most breath and bloodplay fall into that category, so if you really want to cause the death of your partner as you fuck him, a simulated death is all that we’d allow here."

"How do you enforce it? Keep someone from going too far?"

"We have vital-signs monitoring spells on all the rooms, tied directly to the mediwizard’s office just down the hallway from here. If someone wants to play vampire and drains a bit too much blood, an alarm will go off before the loss becomes fatal, and Blood Replenishing potions can be administered. If someone gets a bit too enthusiastic with a rope around their partner’s neck as they fuck them suspended from the ceiling, the alarm will go off before the brain is deprived of too much oxygen. Things like broken bones are easy to fix with Skele-Gro, and even severed appendages can be reattached with splinching repair spells. One client in particular is fond of castrating his partners – doesn’t ever fuck them, just gags them, ties them spread-eagle on the bed, then masturbates as he watches a magically charmed knife mutilates them. A bit gruesome, but that type of wound is actually quite easy to fix."

As awful as it all sounded, none of it was worse than anything Severus had witnessed during his Death Eater days. Only back then, the victims weren’t healed. At least here they received medical attention.

"I want privacy. I don’t want my session observed or recorded. Is that possible?" Severus asked.

"That’s entirely possible. Except for the vital-signs monitoring spells, which cannot be disabled, you can cast any type of privacy charm or spell you wish, for an extra fee of course."

They left the lounge and walked farther down the hallway. There was another room, this one with a sign labeled SELECTION. The room had twelve LCD monitors, four across, three rows down, each numbered one through twelve. Monitors one, three, five, eleven, and twelve were dark. Number two showed three men, one of whom Severus recognized as Mr. Jones, and a naked young man chained face down on a table. Monitor four showed a naked, gagged man tied to a pillar in the middle of the room. He appeared unconscious, but the other man in the room slapped the bound one harshly across the face several times to wake him. Severus assumed this must be Bremmer.

Monitor nine showed a petite, feminine-looking blond boy, barely in his twenties, if that. He was alone, staring into space. Severus wondered what these men did during the time that they weren’t being used. It had to be boring, and terrifying, waiting and wondering what would be done to you next, and when.

But then Severus’ eyes were drawn to monitor number six. It was a credit to his training as a spy during his Death Eater days that he was able to keep himself from gasping out.

Severus had to look twice to be sure. The man in room six was so thin. Of course Severus had never seen Harry naked, but even so, he wouldn’t have expected him to look like this. Since the end of the Death Eater Trials, he’d only seen photos of Harry in the Daily Prophet, but that wizard had been fit and healthy, the physical challenges of being an Auror leaving its mark as toned muscles and a full body. The man he viewed in room six reminded him of the waif-like Harry from his years at Hogwarts.

"He’s one of the favourites," Sebastian commented, noticing Severus staring. "He’s been here quite a while, too. The owner knows him, and takes him personally, so I doubt he’ll ever be returned like the others. He’s also a wizard, the only one we’ve ever had. The collar keeps him from accessing his magic though." Sebastian paused, watching as Severus watched Harry. "I can have him perform for you first, if you’re undecided."

"Perform?" Severus asked, curious as to what that meant.

Sebastian turned to a keyboard that was on a desk in front of the monitors and typed. Severus watched as Harry started, then stared at one of the walls for a moment.

"I’m sending him instructions. There’s a screen that displays what I type in. What would you like to see him do? Most start out with having them masturbate, but this one’s also good at fucking himself with his fingers or with toys that I can send in through the door."

Sebastian’s words made Severus sick, thinking of Harry being forced into displaying himself like that for potential customers. But Severus had to choose something, or he’d compromise his cover.

Before he had a chance to reply, though, Sebastian suggested, "Probably having him fuck himself with his fingers is best. That way, he’s already prepared for you if you decide you want him."

Sebastian typed more on the keyboard, and the camera view changed, now fully focused on the bed. Severus watched in horror and fascination as Harry knelt on the mattress. He spread his legs wide, pressed his head down to the bed, his arse in the air and towards the camera. With his left hand, he pulled his arse cheek to the side, exposing his hole, and with his right, he reached between his parted legs and inserted a finger.

Severus hated himself for watching. He tried to tell himself it was part of his cover, that he couldn’t look away or Sebastian would become suspicious. But that was a lie.

Severus didn’t want to look away. He’d never seen anything as erotic, as sensual, as Harry fucking himself with his fingers.

He was becoming painfully hard as he watched Harry rock back and forth on his knees, then insert a second finger, then a third, moving them slowly in and out, twisting them around and forcing his hole open wider.

"I told you he was good, didn’t I?" Sebastian’s words broke the spell.

Severus spoke before he’d even thought of what he was saying. "I want him. Have him stop. I don’t want him to come yet."

"Certainly, sir," Sebastian said with a smile, and typed the commands into the keyboard. Harry froze, glanced to the side of the room, then pulled his fingers from himself and sat up, waiting.

"What category do you wish to utilize tonight?" Sebastian asked, now totally business-like.

Severus stared at Harry, feeling guilty for wanting to take advantage of his captivity, guilty for wanting to fulfill every fantasy that he’d had since that first day he’d laid eyes on the eleven-year-old son of James and Lily Potter.

But not guilty enough to say no.

"I think, an eight? That allows him to be blindfolded, does it not? And bound?" Severus asked.

"Yes, sir. Blindfolds, gags, and discipline by hand are all a category seven, but restraints are an eight. Also, you have the use of most types of discipline tools. If you want knives, needles, or any other sharp instrument, that pushes you into a category nine."

"No," Severus added, trying to appear thoughtful, "I think for a first time, an eight will do."

"Very well, sir. I’ll send a blindfold through. Would you like handcuffs or iron manacles? I can send those in and have him do that himself. If you want to use ropes or ties, you’ll have to be the one to bind him."

Severus thought another moment. He wasn’t sure how Harry would react to finding out his next client was his hated ex-Potions professor, the same man whom he thought was responsible for the abductions, including his own, the same man whom he thought was the owner of the place and, from what Sebastian had said, made use of Harry’s body already.

He was going to have to convince Harry that he was not that same man. While Severus talked, it would probably be best to have Harry bound.

"Handcuffed, behind the back. And have him kneel on the bed."

Sebastian typed the instructions into the keyboard, then left to send the blindfold and handcuffs into Harry’s room. Severus watched the monitor as Harry walked to the door and took the items from the tray. He returned to the bed and knelt, tied the blindfold around his head, then closed one ring of the handcuffs around his wrist, reached behind his back and closed the other.

Severus couldn’t stop marveling at how natural Harry made his submission appear, as if he were here because he wanted to be instead of being held prisoner here as a sex slave. What had they done to him to make him so obedient?

"Ready, sir?" Sebastian asked.

Sebastian led Severus out of the selection room and to a door with a large silver six on it.

"The doors are all warded to open to wizards only, so you don’t have to worry about him trying to escape. There are severe consequences for any disobedience or misbehavior, as this one knows very well. It took us twice as long to train him as the others, but he’s well broken in now. I think you’ll be quite satisfied. There are lubricants on the sink, or you may use your own if you brought any. If you have any trouble, there’s a call button next to the door. Just press it and I’ll be right in. You’ve paid for the entire night, so you can stay as late as noon tomorrow without any extra charge. When you’re finished, you can let yourself out; there’s no need to call me. You can Apparate once you’re outside the dance club."

"Thank you, Sebastian. You’ve been quite helpful."

Severus opened the door, and walked inside. After six months of searching, he couldn’t believe that finally, he’d found Harry Potter.

Chapter 6: Found

Harry had been barely conscious when Snape had returned and ended the spell. He’d felt as if his entire body were lying in a pit of flames. There wasn’t a part of his skin that wasn’t itching with pain.

Snape left the blindfold in place, but had untied his ankles and released his wrists from the manacles, pulled him up into his arms and held him under the cool water of the shower. Snape had conjured walls around the showerhead, pressed Harry against the tile, removed the plug from his arse, and proceeded to slowly fuck him, making sure he came too, as if Snape were the most caring and thoughtful lover a man could ever wish for.

The pain from the spell remained, but it had been dulled by the cool water from the shower. Snape had dried Harry with a soft towel, carried him back to the bed and laid him down.

"Wait until I leave to take the blindfold off, then go to sleep," Snape had told him. "It’s Friday. You’re always in demand, but even more so on the weekends, and I want you well rested. I’ll see you in a few weeks." He’d leaned over, kissed Harry on the forehead, and left.

Harry had slept – he wasn’t sure for how long – until he heard the trap door open and his bowl of grey mush shoved through. He ate it – he had no choice. He had to keep up his strength, especially now with Snape’s threat of bringing Draco here. He wasn’t sure if Snape was serious about it or not, but he couldn’t take a chance. He had to find a weakness, he had to find a way out of his cell.

Harry wasn’t sure how much Snape knew of Harry’s knowledge of this place. He doubted Snape knew he’d seen the images in Daniel’s mind when Daniel had escaped. The door to his cell was warded locked, and he was either unconscious or bound when Sebastian came into the room. Harry guessed that Sebastian wasn’t going to take any chances of someone else escaping the way that Daniel had.

That left his only opportunity for escape to be during the time when a client entered or left his room. The problem with that was he was almost always bound when a client entered. And when they left, he was in no shape physically to overpower the client, rush out into the hallway, climb up the stairs, and find his way out of the club. Sebastian had told him the only way out was warded, so he couldn’t even walk out the door the way that Daniel had.

Harry leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. No matter what angle he considered the problem from, he simply did not see a way out. If he attempted to escape and failed, they’d kill him, it was as simple as that. Unless he had a foolproof plan, he was trapped here.

He heard the beep from the monitor and started. Snape had said it was Friday and to expect to be busy later. Apparently, a client was here, deciding if he wanted Harry for the night. It was the first time since he’d been here that he actually knew what day it was – if Snape had been telling him the truth. He filed that information away in the back of his mind. Maybe he could track the days and somehow make use of that knowledge in an escape attempt later.

For now, it was time to perform. He looked at the monitor for his instructions.

KNEEL ON THE BED

ARSE TO CAMERA TWO

HEAD DOWN

ONE, TWO, THREE FINGERS – SLOWLY

His face burned. No matter how many times he did this, he felt humiliated by it – not because he was having to display himself so wantonly. That was bad enough. No, the truly humiliating thing about the entire experience was that he’d trained his body to respond to his debasement; he’d trained his cock to get hard. He’d trained himself to enjoy this, and it made him sick.

He climbed up on the bed and pressed his forehead down, forcing his arse up into the air, perfectly displayed for camera two. With his left hand, he reached around and pulled his cheek to the side so that the potential client would have a clear view of his hole. He then sucked on three of his fingers, getting them good and wet, then reached between his legs and inserted one finger through the tight ring of muscle. It amazed him that after being fucked so often and so harshly, he’d still be so tight, but he’d worked out that it must have something to do with the healing spells. All the clients wanted a tight hole to fuck, and this place aimed to please.

He couldn’t suppress a moan as he moved the finger in and out his arse, and his cock twitched and hardened as he brushed over his prostate. He added another finger, relaxing and giving in to the sensation of being filled. By the time he’d added a third, his cock was dripping precome onto the bed. He rocked back and forth on his knees, fucking his fingers, imagining it to be Snape’s cock instead, thrusting into him, the words, ‘good boy’ and ‘pretty whore’ pushing him to the edge.

Why, why did Snape hate him? Why was Snape hurting him like this? All Harry had ever wanted was to get to know the man. Instead, he’d fallen into this nightmare world of abuse and caring, and it was going to drive him mad.

He felt his balls begin to draw up into his body, the orgasm about to take possession, when he heard the beep come from the monitor, and froze. He turned to the screen and read:

DO NOT COME

REMOVE YOUR FINGERS

WAIT FOR CLIENT

Harry slowly pulled his fingers from his arse and waited, trying to get himself back under control. He’d been so close, and now his cock would be aching for release all night. Hopefully, this client wouldn’t be one who’d want to whip his hard cock flaccid. Thankfully, he didn’t get those types of clients too often. The worst one had been one who’d done it repeatedly all evening – making him hard and dripping, then whipping his cock until his erection died, only to bring him to hardness again, followed by another brutal beating. Towards the end of the night, he couldn’t even get hard, knowing the pain that would follow if he did.

The monitor beeped again.

TAKE THE ITEMS FROM THE TRAY

HANDCUFFS BEHIND BACK

KNEEL ON BED AND WAIT

CATEGORY 8

Damn, Harry thought. Recently it seemed that all his clients were category eights or nines. His day had already been full of pain. It seemed his night was going to be more of the same.

He picked up the blindfold and handcuffs and knelt on the bed. He didn’t even have to think about what he was doing. He’d done this same thing so many times, it was easy to handcuff his own hands behind his back.

Once he’d finished, he checked his position on the bed, remembering how Sebastian would harshly slap the inside of his thighs with a wooden ruler until he spread them just the right amount, leaning back on his heels, hips slightly tilted upwards so that his cock and balls were prominently displayed. He couldn’t help but feel like the whore Snape told him he was when he had to kneel like this.

He tried to relax, but being blindfolded always made him feel so helpless. He couldn’t brace himself for a blow, or prepare himself for any decorations that would be used, such as nipple clamps or clothespins. The most frightening had been when a client had suspended his hands overhead and spread and tied his ankles to the floor. The client had then proceeded to take needles and insert them throughout his body.

What had been scary was that there’d been no pattern to the placement or the size of the needles being used. The first one had gone through his nipple. It was very thin, so even though it was painful, he’d had nipple clamps used on him that had hurt worse. The second one had been fairly wide, and had been inserted through the skin on the inside of his right thigh. The third one had gone into the skin over his left hip bone, and a fourth into the skin of his neck. After that, he’d lost track of where all the needles had been placed. He’d thought his ordeal was over when no more needles were added to his body, but then the wizard had whispered a spell, and the needles began to move, sliding back and forth under his skin. His entire body felt like he was being shocked with little pulses of electricity, and he convulsed and writhed as he tried to escape the pain. Hands grabbed onto his soft cock and began to massage him, trying to bring him to hardness. It was impossible at first, until he felt hot breath in his ear, telling him the needles wouldn’t stop moving until he came. It was no wonder that after so many times of being in pain and forced to come, pain was now the main trigger for his orgasms. He wondered if he’d be able to come any other way now.

Harry froze, still as a statue, when he heard the door opening, then close. He could hear the heavy breathing of the client, feel the client’s gaze running over his naked body. It must be this client’s first time here, which didn’t bode well. Harry could always tell by how they stood at the door, staring, anticipating what they could do to him that night. He could almost see the images churning in the client’s head as the reality hit him that he could do anything his dark heart desired and Harry would have to take it. There’d been several times when new clients who’d started out the evening as a category five, ended up upgrading to a nine before the night was through. When given the opportunity to torture and abuse someone who was helpless to fight back, seemingly average wizards became as cruel as any Death Eater Harry had encountered. If Voldemort would have had some of these men as his followers, he might have just won the war.

Harry waited, becoming more nervous as the seconds ticked by. He could hear the man’s approaching footsteps and tried to brace himself, but without being able to see, there wasn’t much he could do.

He felt a soft touch along his face and he tried not to cringe. Clients didn’t care for him to act as if their touch made him ill, even though it did.

"Potter… It really is you, isn’t it?"

The words shocked Harry more than any slap could have. "You…you know me?" Harry asked, barely above a whisper. "How? Who are you?"

Harry knew he dared not hope, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking that maybe, just maybe, this client was his way out of here. Other clients had recognized him before, of course, but all had been instructed by Sebastian to never use his real name. They could be banned from the club if they did. Harry wasn’t human, after all. He was a thing; he was Number Six. For this man to use his name meant that he must not have let on to Sebastian that he knew who Harry was.

The man moved both hands to Harry’s shoulders. "I’ve been searching for you for over six months, ever since you were kidnapped. Draco came to me for help. He was afraid that if he came to Chicago to search for you, it would tip the kidnapper off and he would kill you."

Harry was excited, but panicked at the same time. He knew Draco trusted Snape and spent time with him at Spinner’s End. If this man told Draco he’d been found, Draco might confide in Snape, and then Snape might kill them both.

"The kidnapper is Snape," Harry said frantically. "You have to warn Draco. Snape threatened to bring Draco here if I didn’t co-operate. Draco can’t say anything to him or he might kill him, and me, and you too – anyone who knows about my being here is in danger."

Harry tried to stand up off the bed, but the man’s hands held firm on his shoulders.

"Potter, listen to me. It is going to be difficult for you to believe me, but you must. It’s essential that you understand what has happened. I’ve cast several strong privacy charms, so I am confident that we will not be overheard or observed."

Harry was trembling. Something was wrong. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place who this man was. He said he’d been searching for six months, that Draco had come to him for help and –

"Who are you?" Harry asked angrily, sure that he already knew. It had been over six years since he’d heard that voice, a voice undamaged, with no hint of the raspiness, which was why he hadn’t recognized it at first.

"Potter…" The man’s hands tightened on Harry’s arms and shook him. Then the hands left his arms and reached behind his head, untying and removing the blindfold.

Harry blinked several times. He hadn’t been expecting to be allowed to see. Snape never took the blindfold off. Harry gazed into the face of the man who’d been his personal torturer, the man who haunted his dreams by day and by night. It could only mean one thing, Snape allowing him to see – Snape was going to kill him after all.

"You said I was still useful." Harry tried to keep the tears back, but this was too much. None of the physical abuse he’d been subjected to compared to the cruelty of this moment, to having his freedom dangled in front of him, and then snatched away by his captor. "I did what you wanted. I resisted, I fought. Please, I…I don’t want to die."

"Potter, no." Snape looked horrified. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m not…listen to me!" Snape's hands were once again gripping Harry’s shoulders. "I am not the person who kidnapped you. I know you think it was me, but it wasn’t. The kidnapper impersonated me, to surprise and catch you off guard. Draco and I used the Particle Pensieve Potion to pull the memories from the alley behind The Angel Club. We saw everything that happened, and that was not me who stunned you and brought you here."

Harry stared at Snape, tears brimming in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do or say anymore. He’d tried to be strong, ever since he’d woken up here in this hell. He’d tried to remember he was an Auror, and his job was to bring Snape to justice. If he did something stupid and Snape killed him, who knew how long defenseless Muggles would continue to be kidnapped and abused? Did it really matter that in the end, they were Obliviated and would remember nothing of their ordeal? It couldn’t last like that forever. One day, an enthusiastic wizard would go too far with his fantasy and a Muggle would end up dead.

So Harry had learned to deal with the pain, the beatings, the rapes, the fear that this would be the only world he’d ever know, that he’d never get out of here, that he’d never see Draco or Hermione or Ron ever again – that he would die here.

And it was his own fault, because he’d been blinded by his feelings for Snape. When everyone had told him that Snape was no good, that Snape had only spied for the Order to save his own skin, that if it had looked like Voldemort would win, Snape would have switched sides in an instant – Harry had refused to see it, to accept the fact that Snape had made such a great Death Eater spy because deep down inside, he truly was a cruel and evil man.

"I don’t believe you. You’re a lying, sadistic bastard, and I hate you!" He didn’t care if it made Snape angry. It was all he could think of to say. If Snape was going to kill him, there was nothing Harry could do to stop him.

Snape’s grip tightened even more, now becoming painful, and Harry sucked in a breath as Snape pulled him close, his eyes boring into Harry.

"You have every right to hate me, but not because I kidnapped you and imprisoned you here. Hate me for being the coward that you always accused me of being, for being afraid to face you after giving you my most precious and intimate memories. If I had allowed you into my life, allowed you the friendship you sought, you would know that I am incapable of doing something like this to you, or to anyone. I admit, I like to play rough. There’s nothing more erotic than to have a beautiful man bound in my bed, begging me to allow him to come. But I want that man to willingly submit to me, wanting me to take control, trusting me to stop if he uses his safe word."

Snape paused for a moment and looked slowly over Harry’s body, then back up into his face. "No matter how helpless you are, no matter that I could take you here and now, and there would be nothing you could do to stop me, I don’t want you like that. I don’t want you unless you want me too."

Harry was dumbfounded. This could not be real. It had to be a trick of Snape’s to lull him into a false sense of security, and when his defenses were down, Snape would strike, breaking him into a million pieces.

On the other hand, what if…what if this Snape was the real Snape?

What if…what if, all this time, the man whom he’d thought was Snape was really an imposter? He’d only ever seen Snape’s face in the alley the night of his kidnapping. During every other encounter, he’d been blindfolded. Even when they’d been together in the shower, Snape never allowed him to take it off.

And the voice – until today, Snape had always spoken to him in that raspy whisper, the scar tissue from Nagini’s bite affecting his speech.

"Your voice sounds normal again, like it did at Hogwarts," Harry said accusingly. "All you could do at the Death Eater Trials was whisper. What happened?"

Snape sighed deeply, as if relieved that Harry was finally going to listen.

"Potter, let me take the handcuffs off. You’ll be more comfortable. You can also wear my shirt if you’d like, if you’d feel less – exposed."

Harry snorted. "I think it’s a bit late for me to worry about modesty, don’t you agree?"

Snape looked at him hard. "I’m sorry, Potter. I had to behave as a normal client would, and when Sebastian offered to have you perform, I didn’t feel I could turn it down without casting suspicion on myself. But I won’t lie, either. Your performance was certainly – arousing."

Harry flushed, but didn’t say anymore, just twisted around so that Snape could release the handcuffs, then sat down on the bed. Snape sat next to him and began to talk.

"One of the things I always wanted to do was to create my own spells and potions. But because of the excess scar tissue, resulting from Nagini’s bite, I had lost the use of my voice. The voice is an integral part of any spell – even a spell cast silently requires the brain to imagine the sound the voice would make were the spell to be cast verbally. Without my voice, my dreams of creating new spells could never be realized.

"Traditional healing potions, such as Derma-Heal for stitching together cuts and abrasions, won’t work on scar tissue. I had to create something new, something to change the damaged scar tissue back to the healthy tissue it once was. With Draco’s help, and eleven months of trial and error, I managed to create a potion which would do exactly that. Since I don’t go out in public, no one other than Draco is aware that I have recovered my voice. I assume that is why your kidnapper, in an effort to impersonate me, speaks as if my voice were still damaged. And of course, he no doubt used Polyjuice Potion on the night that he abducted you. You didn’t spend more than fifteen minutes with him, well under the one hour effectiveness limit."

Harry leaned his head back, trying to take in everything Snape had told him. It sounded good, all of it. He wanted to believe, but he was afraid.

"All right," Harry said, a note of hesitation in his voice. "Let’s say I believe you. Now what? They aren’t going to simply let you walk out of here with me. You can’t bring the authorities here because it’s under the Fidelius Charm. Plus," Harry paused, his fingers going to the collar, "I have no magic, because of this."

Snape’s eyes narrowed. "Draco and I saw the imposter put that around your neck. He used his own blood to seal it shut, but we didn’t know what it did. The memory was not detailed enough for us to make out the individual symbols." Snape shifted on the bed, moving closer to Harry, and examined the collar. "This is advanced magic. I don’t recognize any of these. What did the imposter tell you about it? I’m sure he had to gloat over taking your magic away."

"He told me it was an artifact that Voldemort had once owned. It’s fused closed by the blood of a wizard who feels pure hatred towards the wearer. That was one of the things that hurt me the most, to think that you could hate me that much." Harry looked up at Snape, who stopped staring at the collar to meet Harry’s eyes.

Snape appeared uncomfortable. "I don’t hate you, Potter. I never have. It simply made my life easier to avoid you. You seemed to be under the false impression that because you witnessed certain events in my life, that I was someone worth knowing. Nothing could be further from the truth. Had I allowed you into my life, you would not have stayed very long. Better that I reject you from the start than to become emotionally – fond – of you, and then have you leave me. But – I never hated you."

Harry paused a moment, then his mouth turned up in a small smile. "You are the real Severus Snape. My kidnapper would never speak like that. Everything you say makes sense now. All this time you’ve refused to see me because you thought I wouldn’t like you."

"In short, yes," Snape said curtly. "But I think a discussion of that should be put off until after you are out of this place. I don’t know yet how to accomplish that, but I believe that between Draco and Granger, something will be worked out. I’ll need to examine the entire collar so that I have a memory of the symbols, then send it on to Draco so they can begin researching it to find a way to take it off."

"What if there isn’t a way?" Harry asked, a note of desperation in his voice. "What if I can never get my magic back?"

"Draco and Granger will find the answer. There is no one more persistent in finding an answer to a problem than Granger. I am concerned, however, about having to leave you here. Right now, I am the only one who knows where you are, and I cannot tell anyone your location. That means I must find a way to get you out of this place. I do not know how long that will take. The man, Sebastian – he is here at all times?"

"I’m not sure, but I think so. All the workers are Muggles, except for me, and I have no magic. Sebastian made it clear during my – orientation – that I shouldn’t even think of trying to escape. There’s only one way out, and it’s warded."

"That should be no problem for me, then, but it will have to be at a time when the fewest number of people are around. As soon as we’re spotted, they’ll attack. I’m also going to need to bring you some clothing. A naked man appearing in the club upstairs is bound to draw attention."

"You think?" Harry asked, and laughed. It sounded foreign to him. He hadn’t had much to laugh about here.

Snape smirked. "All right, that was obvious. I’m merely thinking out loud."

Then he turned to Harry, frowning. "There is one other problem, and I will do as you ask. I came here under the pretext of being a new client. I wanted you blindfolded when I entered the room so that you would not give any sign that you recognized me. To have you blindfolded put me in a category seven, and then bound put me in an eight. Sebastian is going to expect to find you – used."

"Oh, god, I didn’t even think about that. I was so surprised to have you say my name, and then I thought you were the other Snape – is it going to bother you to, you know, have sex with me?"

Snape was leaning against Harry's arm. Harry hadn't even noticed when they'd become that close. Snape's hand reached up and wrapped around Harry's throat. Harry's heart began to beat furiously. He thought he'd made a mistake, that this Snape really was his abductor, and now was going to choke the life out of him.

But the hand only rested there, never tightening but rather – caressing. It felt soft and smooth as it stroked the skin of his neck. The hand moved to Harry's chin and tilted his face up. Harry saw tenderness and longing in Snape's eyes, and leaned closer. Their lips barely touched.

Fingers entwined in Harry’s hair, pulling his head back, and then Snape's mouth was on his, his tongue pushing into Harry's mouth, hot and sweet and possessive.

It had been so long since Harry had had a real kiss, a kiss of passion. The other clients, if they kissed him, did it to hurt him, to humiliate him, because they knew Harry did not want it but had no choice but to accept it. It was about who was in control, and it was never Harry.

But this kiss was different. Harry wanted this kiss, enjoyed the feel of Snape’s tongue as it explored his mouth. He’d been afraid that after everything that had been done to him here, he’d never be able to enjoy sex again…Snape’s kiss proved him wrong.

Snape broke the kiss, but still held Harry by the hair. "I was serious about not wanting you unless you wanted me. Without causing you too much pain, there are spells I could use to make it appear I hit you or whipped you. I can come on your body without there having to be any anal penetration, and replace the blindfold and handcuffs so it appears to Sebastian, when he tends to you after I leave, that you truly were abused."

Harry gazed into Snape’s eyes, but knew what he wanted even before Snape had spoken. The difficult thing would be trying to tell Snape in a way that made the man understand what he needed, and why.

"You said you’ve been searching for me for six months. For those six months, I’ve been trapped here, naked, beaten, raped, tortured – things done to me so horrifying, they’d make Voldemort jump with glee. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to be touched tenderly, with true care and desire instead of as an object, a hole to be fucked, flesh to be cut, an arse to be whipped.

"Please, Snape, make me remember…make me remember what it feels like to be made love to. Show me you care. Handcuff me to the bed if you want. It won’t bother me because I trust you won’t hurt me, not the way the others do – but don’t use the blindfold. I want to see you, to know it’s you this time, and not the imposter. I won’t let him win – I won’t let what he’s done to me keep me from enjoying this."

Snape let go of Harry’s hair, and Harry lay down on the bed, pulling Snape down with him. Harry reached his hands over his head, and grabbed hold of the iron rail in the headboard. Snape kissed him again, almost as passionately as the first time. Harry could feel Snape’s hard cock pressing against his own.

When the kiss ended, Snape stood up and began to undress. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of Snape as he unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the footboard. Harry had always expected Snape to be thin, almost sickly, and pale, his body always having been hidden underneath layers of billowing black robes. Instead, what he saw was a lean, but very firm, tanned chest, with sprinkles of dark hair around brown nipples, and a tease of it on his stomach, leading down under still-zipped trousers.

"Like what you see?" Snape asked with a smirk.

Harry blushed, embarrassed by the contrast between their bodies. Harry had once been tanned and fit, with as much, if not more, hair on his body. But after six months of eating nothing but tasteless mush and no way of keeping his muscles toned, other than doing a few calisthenics every day, he knew his body was not at its most attractive. He’d lost weight and muscle definition, and his body hair was spelled off by Sebastian as soon as a hint of it began to show. He supposed he should be grateful that Sebastian used a spell rather than a razor.

Snape must have sensed Harry’s discomfort, because before Harry could answer, Snape told him, "I hope that you do, because I certainly like what I see."

Snape’s compliment made Harry blush more furiously. With all the wizards who’d had sex with him here, Harry still considered himself to be inexperienced.

Ginny had been his first and only time with a girl.

Draco had been his second sexual experience, and it had certainly been an eye-opener. All his life, Harry'd had to be strong – he was the Chosen One, the one who was destined to kill Voldemort, and he couldn't appear to be weak. Then when he'd become an Auror, it'd been even more important that he present an image of power – a weak Auror quickly became a dead one. But at the end of the day, it’d been a heady feeling to be able to let the stress and responsibilities of the job go and allow Draco to be the one in control. Harry hadn't known until he and Draco became lovers how much he would enjoy being restrained and dominated, at least in bed, and with someone he could trust – trust was what made being bound to a bed by Draco enjoyable, and being bound to a bed by one of the clients a nightmare.

They'd been with each other a year before Draco had confronted him about the possibility of there being someone else, and Harry had confessed his feelings for Snape. He couldn't help but fantasize at times about what it would've felt like if Snape had been the one to have him bound to a bed rather than Draco, and Draco had eventually picked up on it.

Draco had broken up with him, but they’d remained friends, even becoming roommates after that, which seemed strange to others but made perfect sense to Harry. They were best friends after all.

After Draco, he’d rarely had sex. There’d been a few times with Theodore Nott, of all people. He’d come by Grimmauld Place, looking for Draco once. Draco had been away for the weekend with his mother in France. Somehow Theo had ended up in Harry’s bed. It had been fun, but nothing more than a physical release for Harry. Theo had said he was fine with that, and they’d continued to see each other periodically when Draco was at Spinner’s End or with his parents. But eventually, Theo had pressured Harry for more of a commitment, and Harry had ended it.

That had been his entire experience with sex, until this place, and this place, in his opinion, did not count.

"I do like what I see, it’s just – well, I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I know…" Harry paused a moment and swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and continued. "I know what you must think of me, about my being here in a place like this, but I really don’t know too much about what I’m doing when it comes to sex."

Snape appraised him sadly, then smiled. "What is being done to you here is a crime – it has nothing to do with sexual pleasure. We will bring the perpetrators to justice. I will see to it. As to your lack of knowledge, do not be concerned. I guarantee you that I am a much better teacher when it comes to the art of lovemaking than I ever was at teaching the art of potion-making."

Snape finished undressing, slowly, taking his time. Harry watched his every move. It was a nice change that, for once, Harry was not the one having to perform.

Even naked, Snape exuded an aura of power. There was really nothing extraordinary about Snape’s body, but Harry thought he was beautiful. His thighs and arse were firm, and except for a little fullness about the belly, there didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat. Snape’s cock was full and thick, already hard, with little drops of precome glistening at the slit.

The realization hit Harry then, and he sucked in his breath. Snape had seen Harry fuck his fingers, and hadn’t been disgusted by it. He wasn’t going to have sex with him just to maintain his cover. Snape really did desire him.

"Please," Harry whispered, not wanting to wait any longer. He’d already waited six years for this man, and although jumping into bed with him hadn’t been how he’d wanted to start out, he certainly couldn’t deny it was how he’d wanted to end up.

"You don’t need to be handcuffed, Potter. I can certainly make love to you without them," Snape said, getting on the bed between Harry’s parted legs.

"You said you wanted your partner to submit to you, to trust you. I want to show you that I do."

The look Snape gave him made his cock twitch in anticipation. Snape reached back to the footboard where he’d looped the handcuffs when he’d taken them off. He turned around to face Harry, who was still holding on to the headboard. With a click, the cold metal of one ring closed around Harry’s left wrist. Snape threaded the chain around behind the iron spoke, then clicked shut the ring around Harry’s other wrist. Harry trembled.

"Are you all right? I can take them off if they bring back unpleasant memories?"

Harry shook his head. "I’m making a new memory, one I can call on when things get bad. I hope you don’t mind. I…I need this. I need you. We both know I’m trapped here, at least for a little while longer. I need this to give me strength, to give me hope – hope that when this nightmare ends, I’ll have you waiting for me. Please…"

Snape reached out and touched the side of Harry’s face. It was wonderful to feel his face being caressed instead of slapped. Harry turned his head to the side and kissed the palm of Snape’s hand, then began to lick around his fingers, pulling one into his mouth and sucking hard. A moan escaped from Snape’s lips.

Harry released Snape’s finger when his head was roughly pulled back, as Snape once again took hold of his hair. He began to kiss and suck Harry’s neck, leaving little bruises to prove Harry had been explored there. He worked his way to Harry’s collarbone, biting at the sensitive skin and causing Harry to hiss and arch his back in pleasure.

Snape moved lower, and took Harry’s nipple into his mouth, rolling and pinching the other one between his fingers until it was a hard pebble. Within a few minutes, Harry was the one moaning, his hips bucking up against Snape’s body, trying to get some friction on his hard, aching cock.

"Please, Snape. I need to come. I’ve been hard since…since my performance. Please, fuck me now so I can come with you inside me. I’ve waited so long for this…" Harry pulled against the handcuffs, and the feeling of being restrained and at the mercy of someone who cared was overwhelming – he’d fantasized so many times of being with Snape like this, but the reality was so much better.

"Potter, I never turn down a beautiful man asking me to fuck him." Snape stood and walked over to the sink, found a tube of lubricant and returned to the bed.

"I take it you do not have to be stretched. You appeared to have done an adequate job earlier."

"No, no stretching. I’m ready now. Please, I can’t wait any longer."

Snape took a moment to rub some of the lubricant over his cock, lifted Harry’s legs onto his shoulders, then slowly pressed in. Harry had been so used to being overcome with pain, to having cocks shoved harshly into his arse, he’d almost forgotten how pleasurable it could be, the initial burn as his hole was stretched around the head, then the feeling of being filled, inch by glorious inch.

"Oh god, Snape, you feel so good inside me. More, I need more, please…"

It seemed to take forever, that Snape was never going to be in all the way, and then finally, it was done. Harry could feel Snape’s balls, heavy against his arse. Snape leaned forward, pushing Harry’s knees to his chest, and kissed him.

When Snape raised back up, he asked, "Ready?" Harry could only nod.

It was the most intense and pleasurable sexual encounter he’d ever had. Snape was rough, pulling out and pushing back in with hard, powerful thrusts, brushing against his prostate every time. He wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock and, using the oozing precome to slick his hand, worked Harry’s cock with the same rhythm. Harry tried to hold back, tried to stay on the edge as long as he could, but the sensations of being fucked and fondled at the same time were too much. He pulled against the handcuffs, threw his head back and shouted. The orgasm washed over him, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body as white pulses of come coated Snape’s hand and his own stomach. He could feel his arse muscle tense around Snape’s cock, and with one last thrust, pushing in deep, Snape arched his back and uttered his own shout of pleasure, his come filling Harry’s arse.

Snape pulled carefully out and gently took Harry’s legs off his shoulders, then lay next to him, pillowing his head on Harry’s chest and caressing his side. They stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying the afterglow. Harry couldn't recall ever feeling this contented.

"Did you get me for the entire night? Are you staying?" Harry asked lazily.

"Yes, Potter, I am staying with you the entire night," Snape murmured into Harry’s chest, then leaned up on an elbow. "I wasn’t sure what to expect, how long it would take to convince you that I was not the one who’d abducted you."

Snape got up and took the key to the handcuffs from his trousers, then released Harry’s wrists. "Sleep for a bit. I’m sure this has been a trying experience, and you could use a good night’s rest."

Snape kissed Harry again and within moments, Harry was drifting off to sleep, feeling safe and protected for the first time since he’d woken up in this horrid place.

"Potter, I have to be going soon."

Harry didn’t want to wake up. He’d had such a wonderful dream. Normally, when he slept, all he had was nightmares.

"Potter, wake up. I have to leave."

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. It was strange that Sebastian would want Harry awake while he tended to his wounds. Normally, Sebastian would only wake him if he intended to use him, and it was too early in the day for that. He wasn’t even sure why Sebastian would be healing him. Doing a quick scan of his body, he couldn’t find anything that hurt, at least not so badly that he needed medical attention.

Slowly, Harry opened his eyes and saw the face of Severus Snape staring down at him. For an instant, Harry panicked, and then the memory of the prior evening returned. It hadn’t been a dream after all.

"Are you all right, Potter?" Snape asked, concerned. "You’re not hurt, or anything from last night, are you?"

Harry smiled, hoping to reassure Snape. "I’m fine. I didn’t want to wake up. I haven’t slept that well since…well, you know. It’s not been easy to sleep here. I never know when I’ll be called to perform."

"Undoubtedly. The fact that you have been here so long and managed to keep sane is a testament to your strength of character. Most others would have broken under these conditions that you’ve had to endure."

"Well, I have to admit, it’s been close several times. But that's when I’d think back to the Battle of Hogwarts and my walk to meet Voldemort, when I thought I was going to certain death. I did what was necessary that day, and survived. I’ve done what was necessary in this place, too. It would’ve been so easy to give up months ago, but giving up isn’t in me. No matter what they do to me, no matter how long it takes, I’ll get out of here."

Harry looked at Snape worriedly. "Whoever the abductor is, he knows Draco. Or at least he knows what Draco means to me, but then that’s common knowledge. He threatened to bring Draco here if I – if I didn’t resist him. He said he didn’t want me to just lie there and take it. I don’t know if he was serious or not, but you need to warn Draco to be careful. Since the abductor turned out to not be you, then we’re back to not knowing who he is.

"I need the password to get into your case files. It may help Draco and Granger to be able to see them. Draco has been working to try and break into them – you must have used something pretty obscure."

Harry looked down a moment, then back to Snape and smiled. "19600109x05061980 – it’s a combination of your birthday and Draco’s."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "That was obscure. All right, that will get us into the files. I am also concerned that whoever this imposter is, he would know enough about our relationship to be able to convince you of my guilt. I’ve not gone out into the wizarding world for six years. That leads me to believe it is someone who knew of our hostile feelings towards each other from our Hogwarts days. Whether that be a teacher or a student, I do not know. You testified for me at the Death Eater Trials, but you also testified for Draco and his mother, so I do not think the imposter is aware of your change of feelings towards me. How many others besides Draco know?"

"Just Hermione and Ron, but they wouldn’t have said anything. I asked them not to when it became clear that you didn’t want to see me."

"I’ll talk with Draco and have him concentrate on former students and faculty. That will at least be a start."

Snape had dressed before he’d woken Harry. Harry found he felt disappointed. "You should handcuff and blindfold me before you go. And I suppose you should use that spell to leave a few bruises on my back. I think I have enough on my neck and chest to convince Sebastian that you made good use of me."

Snape helped Harry up off the bed and pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I hate to leave you here. I’ll be back next Friday. I don’t want to return before then or they may doubt my motivations. When will the imposter be back, do you know?"

"He was here yesterday. He said he’d be back in a few weeks. It’s hard for me to keep track of time. Sometimes it seems like he’s gone for a long time, then it seems like it’s only a few days. There doesn’t seem to be a pattern."

"He was here yesterday, before me?" Snape asked, surprised.

"Yes. You probably missed him by several hours. He said he had banking to do in the morning and left me, then came back to see me after lunch." Harry gazed at Severus, hating to admit what had happened, but not wanting to hide the truth either. "He stayed long enough to fuck me in the shower, then told me to sleep so I’d be well rested for the evening, since I’m always in demand."

"It's too bad I missed him, then. I might have recognized him. I normally spend several days observing the clientele as they enter and leave a club so I know how best to fit in, but I was worried about how long it was taking to find you and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to visit this club on a weekend."

Snape appeared apprehensive as he held out the handcuffs and asked, "Ready?"

Harry lay down on the bed again, this time on his stomach, and reached his hands to the headboard. Snape threaded the cuffs around the spokes and closed the rings around Harry’s wrists one last time. "Do you want me to blindfold you before or after I use the spell?"

"I think…after. It would feel too much like – him – if you did it while I was blindfolded."

Snape kissed him quickly, then uttered the spell. Harry hadn’t heard it before. It really didn’t hurt, not much anyway, especially when he compared it to all of the other spells that the fake Snape had used on him. He felt a warm, tingling pressure in the places where Snape touched him with the tip of his wand.

Snape gave him a lustful look. "There. All done. They appear good on you, too."

"What was that spell?" Harry asked. "I didn’t recognize it."

"It’s one I made up during my Death Eater days, to convince the other Death Eaters that I had beaten my Muggle victims the same as they had. It didn’t hurt much, did it?" Snape asked.

"No, not really. I guess you need to blindfold me now." Harry felt the silk tied around his eyes, the world going dark. He tamped down the feeling of dread at the thought of Snape leaving him. He was an Auror! He was Harry Potter, and he’d survived in this hellhole for six months. He could stand it for another week. But he couldn’t help sounding a little scared as he said, "Hurry back, Snape. Please."

"I will, Potter. Haven’t I always protected you? Oh, and since you have been having trouble keeping time here, you might like to know that it is now six forty-five in the morning, Saturday, June 26th."

Harry felt a touch on his back, then heard Snape’s footsteps as they moved away from the bed, followed by the sound of the door as it opened…and closed. Snape was gone.

Harry was alone.

Chapter 7: Planning an Escape

Draco loved his laptop. It was his most prized possession. It had taken five months for him to work out how to use one, then another eight months to work out how to get it to function in the Ministry of Magic. He really had to give Muggles credit. Some of their inventions were ingenious.

During their Hogwarts years, Granger had spent her summers at home keeping up on the latest Muggle technology since she hadn’t been able to do it while at school. She’d been the logical choice for him to ask for help, and they’d spent many weekends at her parents’ home, away from any magical interference, so he could learn how to use a computer.

It was a comment made by Granger – I wish I could get a laptop to work in the Ministry, with Internet access, but I’ve never been able to work out how – that had started Draco on his quest. It wasn’t that he’d wanted to do something to pay Granger back, although he had to admit, that was part of it – he hated being in debt to her. His main motivation had been that he could see how useful having computers and Internet access in the Ministry would be. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to be able to succeed at something that the know-it-all had failed at.

The Muggles again provided the answer – shielded electrical wiring and network cables. It took some hard politicking, but he’d finally been allowed to wire up the entire Ministry, and also to install a small generator to power everything. The Internet access had been easy; he’d tapped into the lines running to a nearby data warehouse center. The Ministry was only using the Internet for email and information gathering, although Draco had found some of the younger employees downloading music and movies. As long as it didn’t get out of hand, impacting bandwidth, he turned a blind-eye to it.

But as much as Draco loved his laptop, and email, instant messaging, and Google, right now all he wanted to do was take his wand to the infernal contraption and blast it into a million pieces!

Where the hell was Severus?

It was eleven a.m., and Severus was an hour late. He’d never been late before, and Draco was worried. Had Severus found Harry? Had Severus been caught? Had Severus been killed?

All sorts of scenarios ran through Draco’s mind, but he shoved them away. Severus was a Slytherin, a former Death Eater who had fooled Voldemort, and a former Potions teacher at a school full of hormonal teenagers – he could certainly take care of himself.

Draco prayed it meant that he’d found Harry then, and was with him right now. That had to be it. He wouldn’t even consider that maybe Severus was a prisoner too, that somehow, he’d been recognized and caught.

But even if he had been recognized, why would anyone think that Severus would want to help Harry? The wizarding world still thought Severus hated him. Only Draco knew the truth – Severus cared for Harry very much, even if he couldn’t admit it to himself.

There was a knock on his door, startling him. It was a Saturday morning and no one normally worked at the weekend. He touched his sleeve, checking for his wand. "Come in."

The door opened and Granger walked in. "I’d hoped since I didn’t hear from you that you’d still be here," she said.

Draco saw she was alone. "Where’s Weasley?" he asked.

"I left him at home. I told him he couldn’t come if all he was going to do was insult you and Snape."

"Sorry I haven’t fire-called. Severus is late checking in, and I didn’t want to leave the laptop unattended in case I missed his IM."

Granger raised her eyebrows. She’d been doing that since her first year at Hogwarts, Draco realized. It was somehow reassuring to see her do it now.

"Will it bother you if I wait here with you?" she asked.

He smiled slightly. He knew she was thinking the same things he’d been thinking a few minutes ago, but, thankfully, she wasn’t voicing her concerns.

"I thought I’d try and work some more on breaking into Harry’s files. I could use some help with that."

"Great," she said, holding out her hand. "Give me a stack."

They sat together, the worry thick between them, and waited.

It was almost two p.m. before the laptop chimed, causing them both to jump. Granger looked at Draco, who was already typing his reply into Severus.

HBPrince: Draco, are you still there?

Dragon: Are you okay? Where have you been?! I’ve been worried sick! Granger is here too.

HBPrince: I’ve found him.

Draco glanced up at Granger, a smile exploding all over his face. "Sev’s found Harry!" he exclaimed.

Granger’s hand covered her mouth as she gasped, and it looked like she was about to cry.

Dragon: Is he all right? Is he with you?

HBPrince: He’s fine, but he’s being held prisoner. I can’t get him out yet. The details are in an email, along with some photos made from my memory of the collar the kidnapper has placed on him. It keeps him from accessing his magic. We must find a way to get it off. I also have the password to his case files.

Dragon: How long will it be until you can free him?

HBPrince: I need to watch the place for several days. There is a caretaker who lives there, but I’m sure he must leave the place sometime. I will try to see if he has a pattern to his movements. Do you know where Potter keeps that Invisibility Cloak of his?

Dragon: It’s at the house, but I don’t know exactly where. I wouldn’t want to search for it in case I set a ward off. I’m sure he has it protected.

HBPrince: Start making Portkey arrangements to come to Chicago next Saturday. I think I will need you to bring it here. I will ask him where it is when I see him next Friday night.

Dragon: Why do you have to wait so long to see him again?

HBPrince: I don’t want to raise their suspicions by going to see him too often. A week should give me the time to gather the information I need to get him out safely.

Dragon: All right, I’ll start arrangements now. Is he really okay? Please, tell me the truth.

HBPrince: Yes, he is fine. His situation is not pleasant, but he is surviving. Read the email. It will tell you everything you need to know. I will contact you again in the morning.

Severus signed off. Draco immediately pulled up his email, and with Granger standing behind him, he began to read.

Draco could tell that Severus had left much out, but still, what was there was enough to make him ill. He could hear Granger behind him making little sobbing noises.

He clicked on the link to the photos. There were six high resolution .jpg files, clearly showing the symbols that were etched around the collar. Draco had never known the Creevy brothers, but one of them had come up with the process of making photos from extracted memories. The photos didn’t move the way traditional wizarding photos did, but that made it easier to scan them into a computer and email them.

Draco printed two sets, handing one to Granger. "Okay, we have our work cut out for us. The kidnapper may or may not have been telling the truth about this collar being a part of Voldemort’s inventory. The symbols are old, older than I’ve ever seen. You can start on trying to work out what they mean, and I’ll review Harry’s case files to see if there’s something there that might give me a hint as to who the abductor might be."

Granger took the photos from him and smiled. "Thanks for letting me help. Do you mind if I go over to Grimmauld Place to make use of the Black Family library? This is probably dark magic, and the library there is extensive."

"No, I don’t mind. Harry keyed you into the wards, so you can go now if you want. I’m going to stay here in case I need Internet access as I go through Harry’s files. I swear, my next big project is to find a way to bring the Internet into magical homes so I don’t have to Floo to my office every time I need to send an email."

Severus spent the next week observing the entrance to the Muggle dance club, The Depot. He supposed it was called that because of its proximity to the real depot for the Muggle Metro line, a block or so away.

He had breakfast every morning at Walker Brothers. It had large windows that faced out onto the plaza, with a clear view of the entrance to The Depot. When he finished breakfast, he’d sit near the fountain and read a book. The plaza area was always full of people, and he easily fit in wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

Sebastian had told him he could stay at the sex club as late as noon, but it appeared that no one ever stayed that late. He’d seen several leave around six, and once, a man had left right around eight. The only other person he’d observed leaving was Sebastian – every day, around eleven, to go to Starbucks.

Sebastian spent about thirty minutes there, drinking a large cup of exotic coffee and eating a pastry of some sort. He always sat in the same place, a table with a clear view of the entrance to The Depot. Severus could see that he would definitely need that Invisibility Cloak if he were going to get into the sex club while Sebastian took his daily break.

By Thursday, Severus had formulated his plan.

Harry knew that if Snape – the real one – hadn’t found him when he had, this past week might have been more than he could bear. But knowing Snape was returning, that Snape was planning on rescuing him, had helped him to endure.

Sebastian was an attractive man, but his cruelty made him repulsive. The man was apparently permitted to fuck and abuse any of the workers whenever they weren’t entertaining clients, which was most of the day. He usually would pick one particular worker, and make use of him for the entire week. This week had been Harry’s turn. Every morning, Sebastian would come into the room, making Harry perform for him by fucking himself with his fingers or with toys that Sebastian would bring with him. It didn’t matter how well Harry did, Sebastian would always punish him in some way. Sebastian’s punishments weren’t as harsh as those of the imposter’s, but they lasted much longer, usually until a client came along to make use of him for the night.

Monday’s punishment had been Harry hanging in the manacles, his feet unable to touch the ground, heavy weights clamped to his nipples and around his cock. He’d been like that the entire day, until Monday’s clients had arrived – a set of twins. They’d shown their appreciation for finding Harry that way by pulling on the weights and swinging him back and forth between them. His wrists were bleeding, and they’d forced Harry to lick the blood from their fingers after they’d wiped it off his arms.

After taking him down from the shackles, they’d taken turns fucking his arse and mouth, one twin at each end. When they’d become bored with that, they tried shoving both of their cocks down his throat at the same time. That hadn’t quite worked out, but they’d had more success with their cocks in his arse. Then they’d started all over again, a twin at each end, then both in his arse. And again. And again.

Harry wasn’t sure when they’d left, only that he’d woken up to Sebastian’s leering face as he was shoving some type of plug into Harry’s already sore arse. He was on his back, his wrists and ankles tied together to the headboard, his legs spread wide apart, his arse forced into the air and exposed. Sebastian had taken a thick piece of wood and had proceeded to paddle him – hard. He’d made Harry count, but after ten, Harry was crying and begging Sebastian to stop. Sebastian had struck him another four or five times, removed the plug, fucked him roughly, then left him there, still bound to the bed, come seeping out his arse and his face wet with tears.

That was how the client Tuesday night had found him. That client hadn’t stayed the entire night at least. He’d fucked Harry, then instead of a paddle, had used a whip. Harry was sure he’d passed out from the pain, but the wizard must have revived him because the next thing he knew, the man was fucking him again. The client had alternated the fucking and the whipping for a while, and when he’d finished, left Harry as Sebastian had earlier, wrists and ankles still bound to the bed.

Harry had managed to get some sleep that night, but that was his last. Wednesday and Thursday were a blur, between Sebastian’s beatings and rapes during the day and the clients’ beatings and rapes at night, Harry was almost delirious from pain, lack of sleep, and lack of food by the time Snape showed up on Friday evening.

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He knew as soon as he saw the instructions that it had to be Snape, and he thanked whatever gods there were that Sebastian had only slapped him around a bit and fucked him on Friday instead of binding and beating him as he had the prior days. Harry would have hated to have Snape find him left in such a manner.

Harry was kneeling on the bed, the same as he had last Friday, blindfolded, handcuffed, legs spread and hips tilted upward, totally exposed but somehow feeling less of a whore and more like a lover. Seconds after he heard the door open and close, warm arms were wrapped around him, and his mouth was being captured in a possessive kiss. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until after Snape removed the blindfold and began to kiss his tears away.

"I’m here now, Potter. You have nothing to worry about. It will all be fine. Shhh…it will all be fine."

Snape continued to hold him, but it took a while before Harry could get himself under control. The long week of daily and nightly tortures had taken its toll. But now Snape was here again, and Harry knew the first time hadn’t been a dream after all.

"Potter, I’m sorry for having to leave you," Snape told him as he unlocked the handcuffs and freed Harry’s wrists. "Are you going to be okay now? You had a rough week, I presume?"

Snape had tried to sound lighthearted, but Harry could hear the concern in his voice.

"I’m fine, now that you’re here." Harry buried his face in Snape’s chest.

They kissed again, and Snape laid Harry down on the bed. "Sleep, Potter. I can tell you’re exhausted. I’m here for the night. We’ll talk later."

Harry didn’t need any more encouragement. Within moments, he was asleep, knowing he was safe in Snape’s arms.

Harry slowly returned to consciousness, but this time he knew whose warmth was surrounding him. He nuzzled against Snape’s neck, his cheek tickled by a wisp of hair that had escaped from Snape’s silver clasp.

"Did you sleep well, Potter?" Snape asked softly.

"Very," came Harry’s muffled reply. He planted a light kiss to Snape’s neck, then opened his eyes to gaze into the face of the man who once again was saving him.

"Thank you for coming back for me," he added.

"Did you really think that I wouldn’t?" Snape asked, surprised.

"No, it’s not that. Towards the end of the week, when things had become so bad, the thing that kept me going was the thought that you were coming back for me. Then…well, then I started to worry that maybe I’d dreamt the entire thing. That they’d finally broken me, and you were nothing more than a figment of my imagination. But then I saw my instructions, and I knew it had to be you."

Harry pressed his face back into Snape’s naked chest and inhaled the spicy scent of the man’s skin. Snape must have undressed while Harry was sleeping, and Harry took his hand and felt the soft hairs on Snape’s abdomen, then moved lower, feeling the change in texture as he ran his fingers through the wiry curls surrounding Snape’s hardening cock.

He took Snape’s balls in the palm of his hand, feeling their weight, rolling them around and taking in the roughness of the sac surrounding them. Harry could hear Snape’s breathing as it became shallower, faster, when he moved his hand over Snape’s cock, feeling the hard smoothness, large and warm as he wrapped his hand around it.

Snape moaned and lifted his hips, pushing up into Harry’s hand. "Potter…" Snape began, but sucked in his breath when Harry moved his hand up and over the head of his cock, then used his thumb to smear the leaking precome around the tip.

Harry had never bottomed from the top before, but Draco had, once, when he’d wanted Harry to know the pleasure of topping. Harry had preferred to bottom, to letting Draco, then later Theo, be the one in control. Bottoming like this was a way of being in control, and right now, being in control was something Harry desperately needed, to prove to himself that he wasn’t totally helpless here in this place.

Harry got up off the bed and went to the sink, bringing back the tube of lubricant. He knelt on the bed, his arse turned to Snape to give him a good view as he began to fuck his fingers, opening himself up.

Snape said nothing, but Harry could hear little appreciative moans, and glanced back to see Snape’s hands working his own cock.

When Harry felt ready, he turned around to face Snape and straddled his hips, taking hold of Snape’s cock and positioning it at his entrance. He slowly lowered himself, watching Snape close his eyes and gasp as he let the weight of his body take him down, inch by inch, until he was fully impaled. It burned at first, but he waited a moment to allow his hole to adjust, then he began to move, all the while watching Snape’s face.

The hurt and pain from the prior week washed away as Harry moved, lifting himself up and lowering himself down, each time a bit faster, each time with a bit more force. He found the right angle and Snape’s cock began to rub against his prostate, causing him to add his own moans of pleasure to those that Snape was making.

Harry grabbed his cock and began to stroke himself to the same rhythm he was using to fuck himself with Snape’s cock. The intensity of his pleasure was more than physical, though. It was knowing that Snape was here because he cared after all. It was too soon to call it love. They didn’t know each other that well yet. But Snape didn’t have to be here; he hadn’t had to spend six months of his life searching for Harry.

But he had, and he was going to get Harry out of this place, and when it was all over, they’d finally have the time together that Harry had always longed for.

Harry pulled on his cock one last time and with a loud cry, was coming hard, spurting come onto his hand and Snape’s belly. Snape grabbed onto Harry’s hips and pulled him down at the same time he thrust up, burying his cock deep into Harry’s arse, then came with a loud shout of his own.

It seemed their orgasms went on forever. Harry collapsed, trembling, into Snape’s arms, and they lay together, breathing hard.

Harry finally found the strength to lean up, and after giving Snape a quick kiss on the lips, rolled to the side. "Did you like that?" Harry asked shyly.

"Very much so, Potter." Snape turned to face Harry. "I hate to kill the mood, but we have some things to discuss. Are you up for it, or would you like to go back to sleep a while?"

"No, no more sleep. I’m ready to talk. You have a plan?"

"Yes. I’ve spent the week watching the entrance to the Muggle club, which is above this one, as you know. I have observed the caretaker, Sebastian, leave every day around eleven in the morning to get a coffee and something to eat at the nearby Starbucks. He’s gone for approximately thirty minutes, but he sits at the same table and can see the entrance to the club.

"Using your Invisibility Cloak, I will wait at the entrance for Sebastian to leave, and enter the club to get you out. I will bring a robe and sandals for you so you can quickly dress. If we have time, I will try to get the paper that the bartender, Crews, took from beneath the money tray of his till to show me the location of the door to the sex club. With that, the authorities will be able to find the sex club and come back to rescue the other workers.

"But you, Potter, are my first priority. If there doesn’t appear to be enough time, or we run into trouble, I will leave the paper."

Harry made to protest, but Snape put his hand over Harry’s mouth to silence him. "You are my first priority. I know you want to help the others, but if we fail and are caught, we will probably both be killed, and then there will be no one to help the Muggles here. Is that clear?"

Snape removed his hand so that Harry could speak. "I understand. I promise to do whatever you say. I don’t just trust you when it comes to sex, you know." Harry smiled, then asked, "How are you going to get my Invisibility Cloak?"

"Draco has made international Portkey arrangements to come to Chicago tomorrow afternoon and bring it to me. He says he knows it’s at your home, but he doesn’t know exactly where and didn’t want to go snooping around."

"It’s in my old school trunk, at the foot of my bed. But please, tell him to be careful. He can’t tell anyone he’s coming here. I have no idea who the abductor is, and if Draco says something to the wrong person…" Harry shuddered, not wanting to complete the thought.

"He understands completely. He’s only staying long enough to bring the cloak to me and to discuss the final plans for escape. He wanted to stay and help, but he also knows his absence from the Ministry would be noticed, so he’s returning Saturday night."

"Okay, so when are we going to do this?"

"Monday, if everything appears to be in order."

Harry was afraid to believe it, that finally, after all this time, he would be getting out of here. He didn’t want to let Snape know about what went on during the day, but it might make a difference to their plans. "Sometimes…" He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then tried again. "Sometimes, Sebastian likes to…make use of us, too, when clients aren’t here. He usually chooses one particular worker for the week, and my turn was this past week, so I think I’m safe. But I wanted you to be aware of what you might walk in on. Just…I don’t want you to be shocked by it or anything." Harry felt ashamed, having to admit these things. He hoped Snape would understand and not make him elaborate.

Snape pulled Harry close. "There’s not much going on here that would shock me, Potter. I’ve seen worse in my Death Eater days, although not by much. Rest assured, anything that I know of what was done to you here will never affect my opinion of you. You chose none of this, and it should not make you feel dirty or any less desirable. There are mediwizards who are specially trained to deal with the victims of Death Eater abuses. We will find the best one and work things out, no matter how long it takes for you to heal."

Harry couldn’t believe what Snape was saying. It seemed too good to be true. "We?"

"Yes, Potter, we. We are in this together. I feel partially responsible for your being here, and I will not desert you once you are freed. Now, I think you would benefit from some more sleep, and then we’ll have to see about making you appear well-used before I leave, for Sebastian’s benefit of course," he added with a smirk.

Harry kissed Snape again, and said, "I think that’s a very good plan." He laid his head back down onto Snape’s shoulder, and fell asleep once more.

Draco was disappointed. There was nothing in Harry’s files that gave him any clues as to who the abductor was. Even after Severus rescued Harry, Harry would still be in danger. Severus had emailed Draco to say that he’d come up with a plan, and now Draco was in Chicago, in Severus’ room, wishing he could stay here in case there was any trouble on Monday. But he also knew he couldn’t be gone that long from the Ministry without someone, perhaps even the abductor, noticing.

It was one p.m., and Severus had ordered them room service since he didn’t want to take a chance of them being seen together in public. It was expensive, and actually quite good for hotel food, but Draco had barely touched it. He hated being so close to Harry, yet unable to go to him.

"Draco, I told Potter you would be bringing the Invisibility Cloak to me today. He asked me to tell you to not worry. He is doing fine, and he will be with you soon. And, I assure you, he is fine. He’ll have some healing to do, both physically and emotionally, but he’s faced death twice at the hands of the Dark Lord and survived. He is strong. With our support, he will survive this too."

If it had been anyone else, Draco would have held back. But this was Severus, the only man he trusted and loved as much as Harry. "I can’t believe you found him, and then for me not to be able to see him. It’s so…" Draco didn’t finish; the lump in his throat kept him from being able to speak anymore. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, then felt strong arms embrace him.

"Does he know how much you love him?" Snape asked quietly.

It took a few moments before Draco was composed enough to answer. "He knows I care for him, and I know he cares for me, but," and Draco frowned at Severus, hoping the man would understand, "he also has all these unresolved feelings for you, and I couldn’t see a future for us until he worked things out with you. Only –"

"Only I refused to see or speak with him," Severus said sadly. "I didn’t know, Draco. I’m sorry for refusing him the way I did. Why didn’t you ever say anything to me? All these years you’ve been coming to see me, to work with me, when it was I who was standing between you and the man you love."

"It’s not just Harry that I care for, Severus. You have to know that."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Do you mean me?"

"A wise friend recently told me that there isn’t a finite amount of love in the world. I didn’t understand until then that it was possible for me to love both you and Harry, but I do."

"I see. Well, I’m sure you know how I feel about you, but I’ve always been under the impression that you only looked at me now as a friend."

"I thought my feelings for you were left over from what we had during my seventh year at Hogwarts, but last Saturday, when you didn’t check in on time…well, I thought that I’d not only lost Harry, but you too. That’s when I was sure that I…that I love you both."

Severus kissed Draco’s forehead. "I promise I will bring him back to us. I will contact you on Monday as soon as he is free, either by email or IM. What happens next will depend on if I am able to get that paper with the location of the door to the sex club. If so, Harry wants to contact the detective here in the Magical Law Enforcement Department that he was working with before his capture. The detective is already familiar with the case. He’ll be able to go in and rescue the other workers, although I’m not sure if we’ll be fortunate enough to apprehend Sebastian. Once he realizes that Harry is gone, he may disappear. And we aren’t any closer to learning the identity of the imposter, either."

"Granger has been searching the property records related to the Muggle club," Draco told him, "but the shopping center is owned by a corporation that rents the spaces out to the retailers. She hasn’t been able to work out who the person is that is leasing the space for the club. She’s also checking utility records to see if she can obtain a name that way, but it may take a few more days before she can hack into their computer systems. There isn’t anything that I could find in Harry’s files, either. I’ll keep searching, but if Harry couldn’t work anything out, I’m not sure I can."

"What about the collar? Any progress?" Severus asked.

"I’d been hoping that if I learned the identity of the abductor, I’d be able to work out how to remove the collar. Granger thinks the symbols have something to do with love, but they could also be interpreted as hate, so we’re no closer to working out its purpose other than the one we know, which is to take away the magic of the wearer. I keep feeling that I’ve seen it somewhere before, but I’ve searched all the relevant books in the Malfoy library and found nothing."

"Well, we will worry about that once Harry is freed. I’ll be able to help in the research, perhaps looking into the blood aspect of it."

"I know we’ve only been at it a week," Draco added, "so I shouldn’t be discouraged that we haven’t found the answer yet. And speaking of research, I should be getting back."

Draco stood up, making ready to leave. "Thank you, for everything. I’ll be at the Ministry all evening on Monday. Please let me know what’s going on as soon as you can. I’m sure Granger and Weasley will be parked in my office, so don’t make me wait too long for news."

"I have a private Portkey set up and ready to go. All I have to do is speak the destination, and in ten seconds it will activate. I plan to take Harry directly to Grimmauld Place. You can go there after you receive my IM that he’s safe."

"Impressive. Did you create it?" Draco asked. "I know it’s not difficult to make a specific destination Portkey, but to have one that will go anywhere, that takes a bit of specialized magic."

"Albus made it for me," Severus replied, "back when I first started to spy for him, although I think I could make one myself now. He wanted me to have it in case I was ever found out and needed to get away quickly. If I were injured, I might not have enough strength to Apparate. But with the Portkey, all I needed was to be able to whisper the location I wanted to go to, and it would take me away. Thankfully, I never had to use it, but I’ve always kept it with me."

"I’m jealous. I have to make do by Apparating to O’Hare, then waiting in line for my Portkey to London. Still, it beats flying on a Muggle aeroplane for hours on end," Draco said with a smile. Then he turned serious. "Please, be careful. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you or Harry."

Sebastian was in a foul mood. It was four o’clock on Saturday afternoon. He’d normally be sleeping, getting ready for the clients that would swamp the club later tonight. He expected all twelve workers would be busy. He’d been having to turn late-comers away the past few weekends. Business was good, but it also meant more work, healing and repairing the resulting injuries. At least Mr. Tudor, the owner, paid him per spell, so the extra work meant extra money.

But he hated having his afternoon sleep-time interrupted. If it had been interrupted by a worker, he could get some sort of pleasure out of punishing the whore later. But this interruption was by Mr. Tudor himself, and there wasn’t much Sebastian could do about it.

Mr. Tudor was attractive. If anyone were to pass him on the street, they might mistake him for a model, his skin flawless and his cheekbones high. He was older than Sebastian by several years, and tall – close to six feet in height. He had dark, medium length hair with just a bit of a wave to it, and dark brown, almost black eyes that could bore straight through you when he looked at you. He’d fucked Sebastian for a while, after Sebastian had first been hired. Sebastian had enjoyed it for the most part. Mr. Tudor had a cruel streak, though, that Sebastian didn’t care for.

They were in the Selection room, where Mr. Tudor normally liked to meet with him. "Good evening, Mr. Tudor. I’m sorry for being asleep. I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you weren’t due back for another two weeks. Do you want me to get Number Six ready for you?"

"No, Sebastian, not right now. We have a slight problem."

Sebastian swallowed hard. The last time there’d been a ‘slight problem’, a worker, who had turned out to be a wizard, had escaped. At least Mr. Tudor hadn’t held Sebastian responsible. After all, Mr. Tudor had been the one who’d personally selected the worker.

"What sort of problem, Mr. Tudor? Things have been going pretty well, I thought."

"You know the batch of videos you sent me this morning, the ones that covered the last two weeks?"

Mr. Tudor had all the client sessions recorded, except for the ones that had paid to have privacy. Usually those were clients’ first times. After a while, they didn’t care so much about privacy, once they became comfortable here. Plus, it saved them the extra fee.

"Yes, sir. Was there anything wrong with them?"

"No, but I wanted to find out what happened with Number Six the past two Fridays. Why were his sessions kept private?"

"Oh, yes, Number Six had a new client a week ago, a Mr. Henry. He returned last night. Some new clients are a bit shy at first, then they lose their inhibitions and don’t seem to care as much, especially when privacy spells add an extra ten percent to the total night’s cost."

"But you know I don’t ever want privacy spells used with Number Six," Mr. Tudor said, sounding slightly annoyed. "He’s special. I need to know who sees him and what they do to him. He’s my private property, and although I don’t mind sharing, part of that sharing is that I always have access to see what is done to him. If I think he’s being overly abused by a client, that client will be prohibited from future use of him."

"I’m sorry, sir. The new client seemed, well, self-assured, polite – classy. I didn’t think there’d be a problem. And Number Six wasn’t injured. Just some bruises, some strike marks. He’d been fucked, but there wasn’t any tearing. I’ve seen him in worse condition."

"Do you have Mr. Henry on the security video?" Mr. Tudor asked.

"I should. Do you want me to call it up? It will only take a minute."

Mr. Tudor nodded his head, and Sebastian sat down at the keyboard to access the security video. The videos were catalogued by day, and he quickly found the .avi file from a week ago Friday.

The video was split into four partitions. The top left corner of the screen showed the stairway, the top right showed the lounge, the bottom left showed the hallway, and the bottom right showed the Selection room. Sebastian remembered that Mr. Henry had come in after Mr. Jones, and quickly found the part of the video where he’d started showing Mr. Henry around the club.

Mr. Tudor watched intently. Sebastian could see him grinding his teeth, and wondered what was going on. The video continued to play until Mr. Henry walked through the door with the silver six on it.

"Do you want to see the video where Mr. Henry left the next morning?" Sebastian asked. "It was around seven."

"No, that’s all I needed to see. And he returned last night, you said, again for Number Six?"

"Yes, sir. Number Six was in the same condition as last week – bruised, fucked, a red arse where he’d been spanked this time, but nothing too serious. I didn’t even have to cast any healing spells."

"How did Mr. Henry gain access?"

"He knew the pass-phrase. He spoke with Crews, and Crews showed him the Secret-Keeper location paper. Did we do something wrong, sir?" Sebastian was getting worried now. Mr. Tudor did not look happy.

"No, you did nothing wrong. But Mr. Henry is not who he says he is. He looks much older now than when I last saw him six years ago, and his hair is longer and he’s put on weight, but I still recognize him. He’s a former professor from Hogwarts, but I wouldn’t expect you to know him."

Sebastian was surprised. All the clients were either personal friends of Mr. Tudor’s, or referrals from current clients. None of them were known to Sebastian. Although he was British, his parents had divorced when he was seven. His mother had taken a job in Los Angeles, so he’d attended San Gabriel, a local school specializing in mediwizarding, instead of Hogwarts, as Mr. Tudor had done. Mr. Tudor had hired Sebastian because of his mediwizarding knowledge related to healing injuries caused by dark arts spells.

"So you do know Mr. Henry, only that’s not his name?" Sebastian asked.

"I know him, and he’s trouble. He was a former Death Eater, and the only reason he’s not in Azkaban is because Number Six there testified on his behalf."

Sebastian’s eyes went wide. "So Mr. Henry knows Number Six? He never said anything about that." Normally if a client recognized Number Six, they said so. It almost always meant the client would choose a category nine, and Sebastian would have his work cut out for him the next day, piecing Number Six back together again. Sebastian had never envisioned anyone knowing Number Six and not admitting to it. "That isn’t good. Is he with the authorities? What are you going to do?"

"I imagine Mr. Henry, whose real name is Severus Snape, plans on trying to take Number Six away from me. That is not something I will allow. Since Snape saw Number Six last night, I don’t think he will be back tonight. He’s probably been watching the place all week. Do you have a particular time you take a break, for breakfast or for lunch?"

Sebastian felt guilty. He hadn’t considered anyone would try and watch him. "Yes, sir. If all the workers have been attended to, I go to Starbucks around eleven. But I always sit where I can see the entrance in case anyone were to come out. And I lock and ward the door behind me, plus lock and ward the door to the stairs. The doors to the workers’ rooms are always locked and warded, too. I’ve always guarded against another escape, not against anyone trying to get in."

"All right, then," Mr. Tudor said, appearing thoughtful. "Is Mr. Yaxley still interested in a category ten session?"

"Yes, he says he wants the real thing. He’s tired of category nines. They aren’t stimulating enough for him anymore."

"Contact him and tell him that as long as he agrees his session can be taped, and if he can be ready on short notice, he can have his category ten, probably within the next few days."

Sebastian smiled. He’d never witnessed a category ten session before. He was getting hard just thinking about it.

Chapter 8: Escape

Harry was nervous. He’d had a bad night of it Saturday. It had been his first time with Mr. Bremmer. Sebastian had filled him with horror stories about the man, and unfortunately, they’d turned out to be true. Harry didn’t think he’d ever be able to hear the sound of tinkling bells again without feeling that he had to fight to get a lungful of air.

Sunday’s session had been easy compared to Mr. Bremmer. The client had been young, probably in his mid-twenties. His father had bought Harry as a birthday present. Thankfully, the son had only wanted to play around and tease Harry some, making him wear a cock ring and beg for release. Even the fucking had been almost pleasurable.

The son hadn’t stayed the night, so Harry had been able to sleep. Sebastian had come in to check on him, but there’d been nothing to heal. Mercifully, he’d been left alone after that.

But Harry had no way of telling time, so didn’t know how much longer it would be until Snape showed up, and the waiting was driving him mad, all sorts of thoughts swirling in his head.

What if Snape couldn’t come today? What if Sebastian didn’t leave at his normal time? What if Draco hadn’t been able to bring the Invisibility Cloak? What if Sebastian caught Snape trying to get in? What if there were wards that Snape couldn’t dismantle?

Finally, after what seem like days, but could only have been an hour or two, the door to his room opened, and Snape walked in.

Harry jumped up from the floor and ran into Snape’s arms, holding him tightly. "I was getting worried! I thought maybe you’d been caught or something. Do you have my clothes?"

Snape kissed Harry quickly. "Hurry. Sebastian’s normally gone for about thirty minutes, but I don’t want to waste any time." Snape handed Harry a gray T-shirt, shorts, and a pair of trainers.

"What happened to the wizard’s robe and sandals?" Harry asked as he pulled on the shorts and T-shirt, then sat on the bed to put the trainers on.

"You’ll be less noticeable wearing that when we get outside. Now come, let’s go, but be quiet."

Snape opened the door to Harry’s room and glanced cautiously out into the hall, then motioned Harry to follow. They walked quickly up the stairs. Snape paused on the landing and pulled the door open an inch or two, peering out into the gloom of the empty club.

"I don’t see anyone. I can’t Apparate from inside the club. Sebastian said it had to be done after exiting the building. Follow me to the entrance, and as soon as we’re out the door, hold on to me and I’ll Apparate us to my hotel room. You can contact the authorities from there."

Snape started for the door, but Harry took hold of his arm. "What about the Secret-Keeper’s paper, in the till? We have enough time to get it."

Snape stopped and turned back to Harry. "I retrieved it before I came for you. Now hurry up. We need to get out of here before Sebastian comes back."

Harry frowned. "You have the paper? But, I thought you said I was the priority, that you wouldn’t get it until after…" His voice trailed off, and he watched as a cold smile formed on Snape’s face. Harry’s heart sank as he realized he’d been fooled.

With strength gained from the adrenaline pumping through his system, Harry twisted slightly to the side and down, and shoved his right shoulder into Snape’s stomach, taking the man by surprise. Snape lost his balance, falling backward and down to the ground, Harry tumbling on top. Harry quickly pushed off of Snape and jumped up. In the darkness of the club, it was difficult to see where he was going, but he had Daniel’s memory to guide him toward the door. It was straight ahead and to the left.

He heard Snape swearing as he struggled to get up. A blast of red shot from Snape’s wand, but was wide of his mark. Snape wouldn’t be able to see in the dim light any better than Harry. If he could just get to the door…

He found it! His hand was on the doorknob, turning it, his weight pushing against the door…

"No!" Harry shouted. He pushed and pushed against the door, but it wouldn’t open! He’d forgotten…it was warded locked, and without his magic, he couldn’t get out!

Suddenly, a hand grabbed him by the hair, and he was spun around and shoved painfully into the wall. The tip of Snape’s wand was against his throat.

"Oh, my pretty Harry. Did you really think you were going to escape me?"

"Where’s Snape? I know you’re not him. You’re Polyjuiced. What did you do to him?" Harry’s eyes were tearing up from the painful hold the imposter had on his hair, but he didn’t even feel it. His only concern was for the real Snape.

"Nothing has happened to him – yet. And it won’t, as long as you co-operate. You see, Sebastian changed his daily routine today and decided to not go out for coffee." The imposter turned his head towards the bar, and Harry could barely make out a figure as it walked towards them. As the figure moved closer, Harry could see it was Sebastian. He came and stood next to the imposter, and held out a pair of handcuffs.

"You and I are going to take a little trip back to London." Still holding Harry by the hair, the imposter pulled him away from the wall, and Sebastian handcuffed Harry’s wrists behind his back. "When Snape comes to see you tonight, which I’m sure he will, your room will be empty. Sebastian’s going to tell him there was an accident. Your client last night got a little out of hand, and somehow, disabled the vital-signs monitoring spells on your room. By the time Sebastian had gone to check on you this morning, it was too late – you’d lost too much blood and there wasn’t anything that could be done to save you."

Harry was trembling. "Are you…are you going to kill me, then?" he asked in a whisper, afraid to hear the answer.

"You’ve behaved very badly, Harry. There has to be some type of punishment, but no, I’m not going to kill you. You may wish that I had when I get through with you, though."

The imposter nodded to Sebastian, who reached over to Harry and pulled a hair out of his head.

"Use Number Nine," the imposter instructed. "No one’s been interested in him lately. All he does is sit there, staring into space. Move him to room six, though, after you apply the patch. Make sure the patch adheres securely so it doesn’t come off during the session. Find a silver collar to put on him too. Contact Yaxley and tell him he can have his ten this afternoon. When Snape comes in tonight, show him the video. That should convince him that his precious Number Six is dead."

The imposter pulled out a gold chain from underneath his shirt. A charm hung at the end of it, and he held it between his thumb and index finger. The imposter moved his hand from Harry’s hair and pulled Harry against him, then said, "Home."

Harry felt the unmistakable tug of a hook behind his navel as the Portkey whisked him and the imposter away.

Draco was pacing back and forth in his office like a caged dragon in a zoo. He couldn’t take this anymore. He’d been anxious all day, knowing he wouldn’t hear anything until after five in the evening, but he hadn’t expected to still be waiting at three in the morning for word. Granger and Weasley were in the corner. Granger had transfigured the two guest chairs into a more comfortable settee. Weasley was lying down with his head in her lap, fast asleep. Pansy had been an angel, bringing him espressos from the Starbucks up the street. She’d brought them dinner earlier – just some sandwiches and crisps because no one really felt like eating. How she’d managed to appear so perfectly groomed after being up half the night was impressive.

Draco had been relatively calm at first. With the six hour time difference, he’d calculated that if Sebastian kept to his routine, Severus should have Harry out of that place no later than six o’clock, London time. Severus was going to Apparate them to his hotel room, and if they’d retrieved the Secret-Keeper’s paper, Harry was going to contact the Chicago Auror who’d been working on the case to try and rescue the other workers.

While Harry did that, Severus had promised to IM Draco and let him know Harry was safe.

Six p.m. came and went with no word. Draco sat at his desk, staring at the laptop, Firefox opened to Yahoo webmail and IM. He’d clicked the ‘check mail’ button every five minutes, but there was nothing new showing up in his inbox.

Seven o’clock…eight o’clock…Pansy brought food…ten o’clock…eleven o’clock…Pansy brought espresso…one o’clock, Granger transfigured the chairs.

When the laptop finally chimed, they all jumped because it sounded so loud in the silence of the deserted Ministry.

Granger practically threw Weasley onto the floor in her haste to get behind Draco to read over his shoulder.

HBPrince: Draco, are you there?

Dragon: Yes! Do you have him?

HBPrince: No. I waited from ten this morning until now. I Apparated back to the hotel to update you. Sebastian never left the building. I’m going back to the club in an hour to see Harry and tell him we’ll try again tomorrow.

Dragon: Are you going to stay the night with him?

HBPrince: No, I don’t want to risk it. I’m going to tell Sebastian I’m back so soon because I’m going out of town and wanted to get a quick session in before I had to leave.

Dragon: Promise me you’ll be careful. I have a bad feeling about this.

HBPrince: I promise. See you tomorrow. Don’t lose hope.

Weasley was sitting on the sofa, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Pansy sat on a guest chair, her legs crossed, back straight, hands clasped over her knee. Draco glanced from one to the other, disappointment written all over his face. "Sebastian, the caretaker, never left the building. Severus didn’t get an opportunity to go in. He’s going to see Harry tonight to tell him they’ll try again tomorrow."

"Why didn’t he just go in anyway and bring Harry out? Snape is a former Death Eater! He knows how to duel, and he’s good with wandless magic too. That Sebastian should be no match for him!" Weasley exclaimed angrily, standing up and kicking the foot of the sofa in frustration.

"Because he doesn’t know if there are any other security measures that Sebastian might set off during a fight. What if the rooms are rigged to filter in some type of poison gas? All the workers, including Harry, could be killed. And it’s important for them to get that Secret-Keeper’s paper. Without it, the authorities would never be able to find the place," Draco replied calmly, not wanting to get into a shouting match.

"Why don’t we all go home and get some sleep?" Pansy suggested. "It’s been a long day and a longer night. Harry is going to need us to be strong for him tomorrow, and we can’t be supportive if we’re exhausted ourselves."

Draco smiled at her tiredly. "You’re right, of course. Let’s meet back here at four tomorrow afternoon. We can’t do anything until then, so we may as well get our rest."

Reluctantly, they made their way out of Draco’s office and to the Floos, their footsteps echoing throughout the empty building.

Draco was jolted out of a restless sleep by the wards going off, indicating someone had entered the house. He reached over to the nightstand and picked up his wand, then cast a quick Tempus Charm – it was five-thirty a.m. He silently made his way down the stairs. The early morning light was already filtering in.

He could hear heavy breathing coming from the parlour. His wand at the ready, he peeked around the corner of the doorway and could see a figure sitting on the sofa, backlit by the light of the window. It looked like –

"Severus?" Draco asked as he cautiously entered the room.

There was no answer, but as Draco approached, he could see that it was Severus.

"Severus, what’s going on? Why are you here? Where’s Harry?"

Then Draco saw Severus’ face, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Severus’ face was white. It was as if all the blood had been drained from his body. He stared at Draco with sunken eyes, and in a voice barely above a whisper, told him the news.

"Harry is dead."

Chapter 9: Search

Draco couldn’t move. It was as if Severus had cast Petrificus Totalus on him. He felt himself falling into a deep, dark hole, and reached out to Severus. Severus grabbed him and held on tight as they both fell to their knees. Draco could hear someone screaming, over and over, "No! No! No!" – screams filled with such raw pain, they sounded as if they were being made by a wounded animal rather than by a human being. Draco’s head felt like someone had wrapped a blanket around it, muffling sounds and making it difficult to breathe.

Finally, the screaming stopped. Quiet sobbing took its place.

Draco didn’t know how long Severus held him – long enough for Draco’s tears to soak Severus’ shirt through to the skin. Eventually, he wore himself out, having no more will to cry, and allowed Severus to pull him up onto the sofa. They sat like that until Draco heard the chime of the clock on the mantelpiece. It was six a.m.

Draco wiped his face with the back of his hand and, taking several deep breaths to give him courage, asked in a trembling voice, "What happened?"

Severus cleared his throat and tried to speak, but no words came out. He waited another moment before trying again. This time, he could talk, but he sounded hoarse, as if he’d spent the last few hours shouting for his team at a Quidditch match.

"I went down to the club about ten o’clock. Sebastian was there, but he appeared tired. I asked if he was feeling all right, and he’d said it had been a very bad day – for the first time, a client had killed a worker. Somehow, the client had disabled the vital-signs monitoring spells, so no one knew that the worker was slowly bleeding to death. By the time Sebastian had gone into the room, the worker was already dead and there was nothing he could do. Sebastian had spent the entire day cleaning up the mess and disposing of the body. That was why he hadn’t gone out for coffee.

"Then is seemed as if Sebastian suddenly realized who I was, and apologized to me. He said he knew I’d enjoyed Number Six, but they had other workers there that he was sure I would like just as much.

"I couldn’t believe what he was telling me. The look on my face must have scared him, because he said that even though the vital-signs spells had been disabled, the recording spell hadn’t, and if I wanted to view for myself what had happened, he’d show me."

Severus stared at Draco with pain-filled eyes. "I didn’t want to see it, but I had to be sure. I couldn’t believe that I’d been so close to rescuing him, and then…"

Severus closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the sofa. "It was awful. For as long as I live, those images will be burned into my soul. I’ll never forgive myself for finding him, and then leaving him there – to die like that."

They sat together for a long time, in silence. Draco didn’t want to move, but he knew he had to contact Harry’s friends. He didn’t even know what he’d say to them.

"I have to fire-call Granger and Weasley. They aren’t going to take it well. I don’t think you want to be here when I tell them. You need some sleep, too. Why don’t you use the spare bedroom, the one at the end of the hallway? Put up Silencing Charms so Weasley’s ranting doesn’t wake you."

Severus sighed, still not opening his eyes. "I should go to Spinner’s End."

Draco took Severus’ hand and squeezed it tight. He knew Severus would never admit to needing emotional support, but he wouldn’t desert Draco if he thought Draco needed it.

"Please, stay. I don’t think I could stand to be alone right now," Draco said.

Severus stood awkwardly. It seemed as if he’d aged ten years since Saturday. "Of course, Draco. Let me know if you need anything." He embraced Draco, then walked slowly up the stairs.

Draco waited until he heard the door closing before he walked over to the Floo. He wasn’t looking forward to this at all.

The imposter had told Harry that he wouldn’t kill him, but that Harry was going to wish that he had.

The imposter had been right.

Harry remembered how he’d felt when he’d been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. He hadn’t thought anything could ever match its level of excruciating pain, but what the imposter had ended up doing to him had certainly come close.

The Portkey landed them in a sumptuously decorated bedroom. A king-sized bed with a beautiful wrought-iron headboard was at one end and a large wooden desk and chair were at the other. He guessed it to be about five-thirty in the evening if they really had returned to London. A glance at the clock on the writing desk showed him he’d been close: it was five-forty-five.

The imposter kept his wand on Harry and guided him over to a door that he thought was to a bathroom. Instead, they ended up in a room that looked exactly like his room in the sex club. Harry froze, and tried to resist being forced into the room, but in his weakened condition as a result of Sebastian’s abuse from the week before, he was no match for the imposter.

The imposter closed and warded the door before removing the handcuffs. "Undress, and then go over to the manacles."

Harry toed off the trainers, and with shaking hands, pulled the T-shirt up over his head, then pushed the shorts down and stepped out of them. It was almost a relief to be naked again – the clothes had felt foreign against his skin after so many months of not wearing any.

But the relief was short-lived as he moved to stand in front of the manacles hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. He wanted to fight, but what was the point? He couldn’t win this battle. If he survived his punishment, it would be better to wait for an opportunity where the odds were more in his favor. Everything had changed when the imposter had taken him out of the sex club. There was now the possibility that he might find a weakness in this new place and be able to exploit it.

"You know what I want, Harry. Put them on," the imposter commanded.

Harry forced his hands to move. The manacles were the same type that had been in his room at the sex club. He felt his knees go weak with the sound of the ‘click’ as he closed first one iron cuff, then the other, around his wrists.

The imposter pulled the chain up, higher and higher, over Harry’s head until he could barely touch the floor with his toes. He knew it was futile to attempt to keep his body weight from pulling down on his arms, but he tried for as long as he could. The imposter seemed to be enjoying his struggles, teasing Harry by planting little kisses along his neck, pinching his nipples and playing with his cock, forcing it to hardness. He finished by gagging Harry with the leather-strapped ball.

"Even though this room is soundproofed, I don’t want you to damage your throat by screaming – and you would be screaming if I hadn’t gagged you. You have such beautifully expressive eyes. I’d much rather see your reaction to your punishment reflected in them than by hearing your screams."

The imposter left the room, and when he returned a few minutes later, he brought in a spiny-branched potted shrub. It had white flowers, bright green leaves – and thorns that were several inches long.

He set the plant down at Harry’s feet. Fearfully, Harry looked from the plant back to the imposter, who smiled at him maliciously.

Harry knew what this plant was – a Firethorn. His aunt Petunia had grown them along the house as a deterrent to burglars. He’d hated having to prune it because he’d always pricked himself with the long thorns, and the places where it punctured the skin had burned like hell.

"I see you recognize this. I’ve been experimenting with another spell that I think will impress you."

The imposter pointed his wand at the plant and said, "Incresere!"

Harry wanted to close his eyes, but couldn’t take them off of the plant as its branches began to grow and reach out towards him, slithering like snakes along the floor until they reached his legs and began to climb up. If he hadn’t been gagged, he would have screamed his throat raw in the first few moments as its branches traveled over his body, entwining themselves around his calves, up his thighs, between his legs and digging into the cleft of his arse, wrapping around his cock and balls, up over his belly to his chest, then around his neck and arms.

All the while as they moved, their thorns dragged across and shredded his skin, impaling him everywhere they touched with their needle-sharp points. It was as if the plant were trying to consume him, burrowing down into his muscles and bones, eating him alive. He could feel something wet and sticky coating his body, and he saw that it was his own blood seeping out from the places where the thorns had dug in. He knew his struggles were only causing the thorns to bury themselves deeper, but he couldn’t suppress his body’s natural reaction to try and pull away. Even with the gag, his muffled screams could be heard. He could barely see the imposter’s leering face through his tears.

He began to feel lightheaded, and waited for unconsciousness to take him, but each time he thought he’d fall into merciful blackness, the imposter would cast Ennervate and call him back to his pain. Every nerve in his body burned, and he knew without a doubt why the plant was called Firethorn.

He couldn’t imagine how his body continued to function, the blood was so thick on the floor. The time between Ennervates was getting shorter and shorter…and he realized he was dying.

His heart ached, knowing that he would never get to say good-bye to his friends, but he knew they wouldn’t want him to suffer like this either. They would understand why he was giving up.

The last thing he remembered was that at least he could die happy, knowing that in the end, Snape – the real Snape – had cared for him after all.

"Thanks for coming with me, Pans," Draco said, as she held his hand tightly. "I didn’t want to do this alone. Granger would have come, but Weasley is pretty broken up and she didn’t want to leave him by himself. I don’t like him much..." Pansy glared at him. "Okay, I don’t like him at all, but…he loved Harry in his own way. I can’t begrudge him his grief."

They were in the lobby of Gringotts, waiting to see someone about scheduling a reading of Harry’s will. It was the last thing he wanted to be doing right now, but if he didn’t, a public notification would be sent out about the will’s activation, and someone – like Rita Skeeter – would have a field day trying to be the first one to report the news. There wouldn’t be any details available about Harry’s death, so of course the information would be made up, and more than likely would not be flattering. Eventually, the will’s contents would be made public, but as executor, Draco had the right to be the one to initiate and control how it was presented.

Gremripper, the goblin in charge of Estates and Wills, greeted them and took them to a private room. "Would you like some tea?" he asked them.

"No, thank you," Draco replied. "I want to get this over with. I apologize for coming in so close to closing time. We only learned of Mr. Potter’s sudden death this morning, so you can imagine that it’s been a traumatic day for us." Draco was proud that he’d been able to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke.

"Yes, sir, I understand. But…well, I don’t know how to put this." Gremripper glanced at Draco, then to Pansy, then down to the papers on the table. "You see, the will did start into activation mode, it’s true. However, as I’m sure you know, there is a period of time before the activation sequence is finalized. This is so that if the wizard is revived, time and paperwork are saved on our part because we do not have to place the will back into dormancy. That can be very expensive, and it’s a cost that Gringotts cannot recover from the customer. It hadn’t been a problem until modern mediwizardry, with their new healing potions and spells, began to save so many lives. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, but the year when the Blood Replenishing Potion became widely available, we had to hire extra staff whose sole function was to verify that wizards were actually dead after their wills had been activated. Implementing the finalization delay has worked out wonderfully, saving us millions of galleons."

Draco stared at the goblin dumbly, not yet comprehending what he’d said. "Could you please repeat that?" Draco asked. The goblin appeared dismayed, so Draco added, "Not the history – I know all that – but about Mr. Potter’s will activating."

"Yes, of course, sir." Gremripper sounded relieved. "Mr. Potter’s will did start to activate, but it never finalized. It went back into dormancy. Mr. Potter is not dead."

Draco couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He kept hearing Gremripper’s words: Mr. Potter is not dead.

"Do you mean that his will started activating, and you never bothered to notify Mr. Malfoy?" Pansy asked, aware of Draco’s state of shock. "As executor, he’s supposed to be owled within twenty-four hours of an incomplete activation."

"Yes, ma’am. Of course. I already had Mr. Potter’s will pulled and the notification ready to be owled." Gremripper held up a bright red envelope to support his claim.

"But you should have already sent it. He died early Monday morning. This is Tuesday afternoon," Draco said, upset that Harry may have been at the sex club after all, when Severus had gone there Monday night.

"Sir?" Gremripper seemed puzzled. "I’m sorry to contradict you, but the will did not start to activate until this morning. At," he studied his papers on the table again, "three-fourteen to be exact. It was a very strong signal too, so that time would have been within ten to fifteen seconds of the actual time. When a wizard is abroad, there can be a delay of up to fifteen minutes sometimes."

"Are you saying," Draco asked slowly, his heart pounding fast, "the activation happened here? In Britain?"

"No, sir, not Britain," Gremripper replied. "London. The strength of the signal indicated it had activated in London." Then Gremripper frowned. "Do you mean to say you don’t know where Mr. Potter is? I’d assumed he was in St. Mungo’s."

Draco wanted to scream at the bloody idiot – No! – but knew it wasn’t Gremripper’s fault that they couldn’t find Harry. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Draco replied, "No, we don’t know where he is. Mr. Potter has been working with the Muggle authorities on a case that required him to go undercover."

Gremripper’s face was grave. "Then you’d better find him soon. The will never finalized. However, there were three additional activations following the initial one – one at three-fifty-six, one at four-twenty-one, and one at four-thirty-nine. There haven’t been any since then, but still – that is quite a few. I’m afraid Mr. Potter’s life is in danger."

Harry felt himself floating. When he opened his eyes, he was in his cell, lying on the bed with his feet and hands bound to the four corners. He was in so much pain, he could barely move, and he felt lightheaded, as if he were about to faint at any moment. The imposter was standing next to the bed, staring down at him. When he saw that Harry was awake, he leaned over and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"I was right," he said to Harry. "Watching your eyes was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think my cock has ever been so hard, or my orgasm so intense. You looked beautiful, bound in vines and drenched in blood. Fortunately, you’re healing quite nicely. It will take about a day for the Blood Replenishing Potion to do its job. You’ll feel weak until then."

"Why are you still impersonating Snape?" Harry asked tiredly. "I know you’re not him."

The imposter’s smile was cold. "Because that’s who you wanted, Harry. You weren’t satisfied with having someone who was kind to you, who cared for you. Draco loved you – he still does. But he wasn’t good enough for you, was he? I couldn’t believe it when he told me you wanted Snape – Snape hates you! He’s hated you since the day you started at Hogwarts. How could you want to have anything to do with him?

"But it turned out Draco was right. You did want Snape. The only reason I could work out that you’d want him was that you’re the type who enjoys being abused and mistreated – so that’s what I gave you. I never planned it that way. When you started investigating my club, I was going to kill you. But then I thought – why not take this opportunity to pay you back for hurting my friends in fifth year, for hurting Draco now? And I could make a lot of money off of you, whoring you out to my acquaintances. It would be a fate you deserved for choosing Snape over Draco.

"Except I never would have thought Snape would come searching for you. That really took me by surprise, but I found out it was because Draco had asked him to. I should have known Draco wouldn’t just give up on you when you disappeared. But now that he thinks you’re dead, he’s free of you – he can finally find someone who deserves his love instead of wasting his time, waiting for you to come back to him.

"You’ll never have your magic back, and I’m in the process of installing permanent wards so that I don’t have to worry about forgetting to put them up when I leave. No one is searching for you anymore. Your friends all think you’re dead."

The imposter walked back out into the bedroom and returned with a wide, round candle, lit it with his wand, then levitated it towards Harry. It stopped and floated an inch above his groin. It was so close, Harry could feel the heat on his cock from the flame.

"What…what are you going to do?" he asked, not sure why he’d bothered. He knew what the imposter had planned.

The imposter grabbed hold of Harry’s hair and pulled his head back, forcing Harry to look him in the face as he spoke. "I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want. I can beat you, starve you, fuck you – anything. Your life belongs to me and I can end it whenever I like if you displease me, so you’d better do your best to keep me entertained."

If the imposter had been angry, Harry would have known how to deal with it, but this emotionless, matter-of-fact tone he used made Harry’s stomach lurch in dread.

"You think your punishment is over? Well, let me tell you – it’s just beginning. It will never be over. Every waking moment, for the rest of your life, you will spend in pain. You thought you would escape from me, that Snape cared about you, would protect you, would rescue you? You are a fool. I am the real Snape, not that other one. I am the only Snape you will ever know, until the day you die – until the day I kill you."

The imposter walked to the door, but before he left, he turned and said, "I’ll check on you later, Harry, to see if the candle has burned out and you need another one lit. I wouldn’t want you to be left in the dark."

Harry pulled against his bonds as he watched fat drops of molten wax slowly make their way down the sides of the burning candle.

He braced himself as the first drop fell.

"Severus! Severus!" Draco took the stairs two at a time in his race to tell Severus what he’d learned.

Pansy had refused to let him Apparate from Gringotts, saying he wouldn’t be able to find Harry if he were in St. Mungo’s because of a splinching accident. They’d taken the Floo, and now Draco was at the end of the hall, pounding on Severus’ door.

Damn Silencing Spells! Draco thought. Harry was going to kill him, but Draco couldn’t think of any other way at the moment. "Reducto!" The door to Severus’ room splintered into a million pieces.

A startled Severus jumped up from the bed where he’d been lying, his wand out, ready to defend himself. Then he saw Draco standing there. "What’s wrong? What’s happened?" he asked urgently.

"It’s Harry! He’s alive! Harry’s alive!" Draco flung himself at Severus so quickly that he almost knocked them both to the ground.

"Draco, calm down. I can’t understand you." Severus was trying to put some space between himself and Draco, but Draco wouldn’t let go. He knew he was probably scaring Severus with his behaviour, but he couldn’t help it. Harry was alive!

Draco pulled back, but kept his hands on Severus’ shoulders as he looked into his eyes and said slowly, enunciating each word. "Harry. Is. Alive."

Severus stilled. He looked disbelieving, but Draco began to quickly recount what Gremripper had told him and Pansy about the will. When Draco finished, Severus stared at him and said, "All right, then. Let’s find Harry, before it’s too late."

They went back downstairs and into the kitchen where Harry’s files were strewn about the table. Pansy, Granger, and Weasley followed them in. Pansy had fire-called them with the news as soon as she and Draco had returned from Gringotts.

Severus began to speak as they all sat down around the table. "So, we know Harry is here in London. The abductor must have found out I’d been to see Harry, and Portkeyed here, then Polyjuiced someone at the club to look like Harry. Then…" He looked at all of them sadly. "Then they killed him. I saw the video. It was not a faked death."

"Are you sure?" Granger asked. "I mean, Draco said Harry…or rather, the Polyjuiced worker had been bleeding all night. If that’s so, how could it have been Polyjuice? That would have only lasted an hour?"

Draco and Severus glanced at each other, then Severus cleared his throat. "I’ve found a way of changing how the Polyjuice Potion enters the wizard’s body. The traditional way is by drinking it. I’ve created a patch, similar to the Muggle nicotine patch which helps Muggles to quit smoking. The Potion Patch delivers a potion in small, continuous dosages as long as it’s in contact with the skin, basically allowing the wearer to be Polyjuiced for several years if they leave it on that long. As soon as the patch is removed, the wizard changes back into himself."

Grangers eyes went wide. "Why haven’t I heard of this? I would think that there’d be a huge demand for it?"

"Because it’s still being tested by the Ministry for safety. They’re expecting it to be popular, not just for use with Polyjuice Potion, but with any liquid-based potion, and they want to be sure it’s safe. I turned in the patent application to the Experimental Charms and Potions Department back in 2001. If it’s approved, it won’t be before 2006. The application details are kept confidential, so that is why you are unaware of it."

"So how did the abductor get it?" Weasley asked, eyeing Severus suspiciously

"I don’t know. Only Draco and myself, along with those in the Ministry who are testing it, know of its existence."

"Do you think someone at the Ministry has access to the application file?" Granger asked. "I know I can walk into secure areas without ever being challenged, simply because of who I am. If the abductor is someone trustworthy, or well known in the Ministry, he or she might have been able to see the application."

"There are quite a few workers at the Ministry who would never be questioned, merely because they fought for the winning side," Draco added. "There’re just too many to investigate each one, and Gremripper said Harry’s life is in danger right now. We don’t have the time."

"There’s something else you should know that may or may not assist in identifying the abductor," Severus began.

"It won’t help," Draco said, trying to prevent Severus from saying anything more. "I don’t think you should say –"

Severus put his hand up to silence Draco, then looked at Granger, Weasley, and Pansy in turn. "We need all the information we can get to try and quickly identify the abductor. Harry’s life may depend on it. What you need to know is that Harry was so easily captured by the abductor because the abductor was Polyjuiced – as me. Harry thought that I was his informant, and that I was the one to imprison him in the sex club."

"I knew it!" Weasley shouted, jumping up from his chair and pointing his wand at Severus. "You’ve been lying to us from the start!

"Ron! Stop it! Sit down! This isn’t helping. Please." Granger had risen from her chair and was trying to push Weasley away from Severus.

Severus hadn’t moved. He waited for Granger to get her husband under control. Weasley finally put his wand away, but crossed his arms and stood off in the corner, continuing to scowl at Severus but keeping quiet.

"The reason I am telling you now is that it gives us another clue towards working out the abductor’s identity, although it doesn’t narrow down the number of suspects all that much. Whoever it is that Polyjuiced as me, had to have had access to some part of me to use in the potion. Unfortunately, it isn’t difficult for a Ministry employee to obtain that from the files of the Death Eater Trials. We all had to submit hair and blood samples, supposedly for identification purposes."

"Maybe we can do a cross-reference of Ministry employees who would have access to the Department of Experimental Spells and Potions, against those who would have access to Voldemort’s inventory of dark magical items," Granger suggested. "I know some items were sent down to the Department of Mysteries for research and safekeeping, while others stayed with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It’s a lot of people, but still, it’s a start. We have to do something other than just sit here and talk," she said in a frustrated tone.

"Why do you need to know about Voldemort’s dark magical items?" Pansy asked with a shiver.

Draco flipped through the pages of papers from one of Harry’s files until he found the photos of the collar that Severus had emailed him. Handing one to Pansy, he said, "We’re searching for any information about this collar the abductor has fused around Harry’s neck. It keeps Harry from accessing his magic, and we don’t know how to get it off. The abductor told Harry it was from Voldemort’s store of dark magical items, but so far, neither Granger nor I have been able to find any references to it in any Dark Magic texts…" Draco paused as he watched Pansy’s face. She’d gone white, and her hand holding the photo was trembling.

"Pans, what is it? What’s wrong?" Draco asked worriedly. She’d never talked about some of the things that had happened with her family and the Dark Lord during seventh year. Draco knew Voldemort had hurt her sister, and had always suspected he’d done something to Pansy too, but out of respect, he’d never asked her. Now he regretted even mentioning Voldemort to her.

She stared at him, but instead of seeing fear in her eyes, he saw determination. "Dray, don’t you remember this?" she asked. She folded the photo in half so that the image of the collar was at the top of the fold, then took the photo and placed it against her neck. It seemed as if she were checking to see how the collar might look if she were to put it on…"

"Oh my god," Draco said, unable to take his eyes off of Pansy as he spoke. "I knew I’d seen it before! When we were kids. I think we were five. It was a birthday party, and we snuck into a room we weren’t supposed to be in…it was a bedroom, and you started going through the large jewellery case set out on the dressing table…you found that collar and put it on. My father came searching for us. He saw you and he froze. I could tell he was scared, but he was so calm. He told you not to move, and then he offered you some sweets if you’d take the collar off and give it to him…"

The room went deadly silent for a moment, then Granger asked in a shaky voice, "So, your father is the one who had that collar? He put it on Harry?"

Draco looked at her and shook his head. "No, when Pansy handed him the collar, he put it back into the jewellery case and made us leave the room."

"So whose house was it? Whose birthday?" Granger asked.

"We were at the Nott’s house." Pansy answered. "It was Theo’s birthday party. He owns the collar now."

Chapter 10: And Rescue

Draco and Pansy were in the sitting room of Theo’s home. It wasn’t the original Nott house, the one where they’d attended the birthday party. After the Death Eater Trials, Theo had wanted to disassociate himself from his father completely and had sold anything that had once been Nott property. He’d taken the proceeds and bought a tasteful, two-story house in wizarding London.

Apparently he hadn’t sold everything – he hadn’t sold the collar.

As soon as Draco had remembered what had happened with the collar, it all made sense. Theo had a Secret Clearance at the Ministry for his job. He not only had access to the secret files in his own department, but to secret files in any department. It would explain how he knew of the Potion Patch, and he could have easily obtained a hair sample from Severus’ Death Eater file.

The thing that Draco couldn’t work out was – why? What was Theo’s motivation?

Draco, Theo, Gregg, Vincent, and Pansy had known each other all their lives. Their parents had been Death Eaters during the First Wizarding War, and they’d all wanted to grow up and become Death Eaters too – all except Theo. From the start, he’d been the one who’d seemed to know the truth about what it meant to be a Death Eater. He’d never spoken about his mother’s death, but Draco was sure that had something to do with it.

At Hogwarts, Theo had done his share of hexing Harry and his friends, but that had been motivated by House rivalry rather than the desire to be a junior Death Eater.

Draco simply could not comprehend why Theo would own a wizarding sex club, or why he would want to hurt Harry. Sometimes, the way Theo used to speak of Harry, Draco had thought he might have even have a crush. Theo knew Harry was missing and had seemed genuinely concerned. Draco had never told Theo what had happened, though, just that it was related to one of Harry’s cases. Pansy had been the only one Draco had trusted enough to tell the truth about the abduction – well, without the part about the abductor being Polyjuiced as Snape.

The house-elf who’d answered the door said that he’d let Master Nott know they were here, but that Master was busy upstairs and it might be a few minutes before he came down. Draco was nervous, but knew he had to keep it hidden. Pansy was the picture of poise. She knew how much was riding on this performance.

Their plan was simple – get Theo to let his guard down, stun him, then Severus would use Legilimency to find out where he was holding Harry. Harry might be right here in Theo’s home, but if strong concealment wards were in place, Harry could die before they’d have time to dismantle them. They needed to get to Harry now!

"Draco. Pansy. This is a surprise. What are you doing here?" Theo was barefoot, wearing only a T-shirt and shorts. His hair was tousled as if he’d just woken up.

"We went to your office, but your secretary told us you haven’t been in since Friday," Pansy said. "Did we wake you?"

Theo blushed, but smiled at them. "Um, no. I, um…I have a guest. You know how you’ve been after me to tell you about my girlfriend. Well, I invited her for a visit." He glanced upwards a moment before looking back to Draco and Pansy. "She arrived on Friday and, well, she’s never been to Britain before. I was making her feel welcome," he said with a laugh. "I was planning on fire-calling you, but, well, we’ve been distracted. I haven’t seen her in a few months."

Draco and Pansy glanced at each other. How could Theo have been entertaining his girlfriend and removing Harry from the sex club at the same time? More than likely there was no girlfriend at all, and it was Harry who Theo had upstairs.

"So, what are you two doing here?" Theo asked again.

Draco fingered his wand in his pocket, getting ready to stun Theo, wishing he was better at Legilimency. "I have some bad news, and I’m going to need some help with some things over the next few days," Draco said. "But I didn’t know your girlfriend was here, so feel free to say no if you don’t think you’ll have time."

"Sure," Theo said a bit hesitantly. "I’ll do what I can."

Staring straight at Theo, Draco said flatly, "We’ve received word on Harry…Harry is dead."

Theo’s smile froze on his face, then turned to shock. "Oh my god, no," he said, his voice breaking. He closed his eyes and squeezed them tight as if he were trying to hold back tears. It wasn’t the reaction Draco had been expecting.

"Theo, are you alright?" Pansy asked.

"I’m sorry," Theo said, wiping his eyes. "It’s…it’s a shock." He took a few deep breaths before he continued. "I suppose it doesn’t matter if you know now. I never told anyone because, well…I felt foolish. I knew Harry hadn’t really cared for me." Theo’s eyes darted to Draco and he added, "He never led me on, mind you. He had been up-front about it from the start, about it being only physical for him. I told him it was fine, that it was just physical for me too. I tried to keep my feelings hidden, but over time, I wanted more from him than he could give me. He was smart enough to end it when he understood how I felt. I’ll always respect him for that. I…I can’t believe he’s gone. He was…a good man."

Draco didn’t know how to react. It sounded as if… "Are you saying you and Harry were lovers?"

"I’m sorry, Draco," Theo said miserably. "I never meant to keep the truth from you. I didn’t know until later that you still cared for him. I didn’t want to lose Harry and you both, so I never said anything. I figured since you never asked me about it, he’d kept quiet too."

Draco was stunned. The grief on Theo’s face told him he couldn’t possibly be the one who’d kidnapped Harry.

Draco stood up and took the photo of the collar out of his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Theo. "We need you to tell us about this collar, Theo. We know it’s yours."

Theo studied it for a long moment before saying, "It used to be a family heirloom, but I turned it into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with all the other dark artifacts when I sold the house." He gazed up at Draco in confusion. "How did you get a photo of it?"

"Granger and I have both searched the records of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Department of Mysteries, and neither place shows it in their inventories."

"Then something’s wrong with their records," Theo said. "I turned everything in personally during the amnesty period right after the Death Eater Trials ended. Ask Gregg. He came with me. He helped pack the boxes when the house was sold."

"Gregg?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, he came over and helped me with everything. My father had kept so much stuff, it took the two of us the entire week to go through it all. Most of it was dark, too. I was glad to be rid of it."

"Did Gregg know how the collar worked? Granger and I couldn’t find anything on it in any of the dark objects references."

"Well, you wouldn’t. It’s a Punishment Collar, sometimes called a Justice Collar. Search ancient magical law texts. You’ll find it there. Anyway, Gregg saw me take it out of my mother’s jewellery box and add it to the dark items going to the Ministry. He’d never seen anything like the collar before and asked how it worked – so I told him."

Theo frowned at them and added, "You know, he became proficient with dark magic in our seventh year. He was one of the Carrows’ favorites. So many think he’s slow mentally, but he excelled under the Carrows’ tutelage. He’s especially good with the Unforgivables – his Cruciatus is so strong that Michael Corner was unconscious for a week after Gregg hit him with one. I know Gregg’s our friend, but let’s face it – he has a sadistic streak that makes him a natural for dark magic."

"So how does the collar work?" Pansy asked.

"It’s quite simple, really. There was a time, before Dementors, before Azkaban, when it was used to punish those convicted of violent crimes. The victim, or a representative of the victim’s family, placed it on the convict and fused it closed with their own blood, blocking the convict’s ability to perform magic. What made it work were the emotions of the victim – the victim needed to hate the convict for the collar to fuse successfully. Over time, if the victim could bring themselves to forgive the convict, the victim would be able to remove the collar, again by using their own blood. That’s what the symbols on the collar stand for – forgiveness. If the victim never forgives the criminal, the criminal will never again have access to their magic. At the time, it was thought to be a just punishment – the more heinous the crime, the longer it would take for the victim to be able to forgive the perpetrator, and the longer the criminal would be punished by having their magic blocked.

"But the collars ended up being misused – corrupt judges would take payoffs and convict innocent people; victims began demanding money from the criminal before they’d unfuse the collars. Eventually, they fell out of favor and their use was outlawed. Most were destroyed, but those that weren’t became collectors’ items on the black market. An ancestor of mine had been a judge, and knowing how valuable the collars were, had kept one."

Theo was silent for a moment, then asked, "You think Gregg could have taken it? Removed it from the box before we turned it in to the Ministry?"

"Theo," Draco began, "I need to fire-call Severus and have him come here right now. I need to tell him about the collar. Do I have your permission?"

"Severus?" Theo asked, surprised. "He’d come to my home? I didn’t think he ever left Spinner’s End."

"He’s waiting to hear from me right now, at Grimmauld Place," Draco replied.

"Of course. The Floo powder’s on the mantelpiece, in that silver box."

Draco quickly fire-called Severus, giving him a rundown of what Theo had told them about the collar. A moment later, Severus stepped through into Theo’s sitting room.

"Professor Snape. You’re looking well. It’s good to see you," Theo said tentatively.

"It’s Severus now. I apologize for being impolite, but we are pressed for time. Draco has explained the situation to me, but there is something I must verify with you before we give you any more information." Before Theo could protest, Severus was pushing into his mind.

A minute later, apparently satisfied with what he’d seen, Severus told them, "Theo’s telling the truth. He’s not the kidnapper."

Theo glared at him, but kept calm as he asked, "Will someone please tell me what is going on?"

"I’m sorry for lying to you, Theo," Draco said, "but someone has kidnapped Harry. We thought it was you because of the collar – it’s been placed on Harry and he no longer has access to his magic. He’s been held prisoner for six months and recently Severus located him in Chicago. Before Severus could rescue him, though, the kidnapper moved him somewhere here in London. He’s not dead – not yet, anyway. We think his life is in danger, though, and we need to find him soon. From what you’ve told us, it appears that Gregg may be the one to have done it. But the abductor seems to have had access to the patent application for the Potion Patch. Do you know if Gregg would have had a way to see the file?"

Theo sighed. "He has a Secret Clearance with a Confidentiality clause – he needs it to access drug test results for athletes. He periodically goes through the files in my department to see if there might be any new drugs they should test for. He would have come across the Potion Patch application."

There was silence for a moment before Theo added, "There’s something else you should know. If he is the one who has Harry, he probably has him at his house. There’s a – room – off the master bedroom. His father used to take Muggle runaways off the street and keep them there, torturing and raping them. He would let them go eventually, Obliviating them first so they wouldn’t remember any of it. Gregg showed me the room the summer after fifth year. He said he really wanted a chance to take Harry into that room and pay him back for what he’d done at the Department of Mysteries…" Theo glanced warily at Draco. "…getting your father and the others sent to Azkaban, and for hexing you, him, and Vincent on the train."

"We need to get into that house," Draco said urgently.

"Theo, what’s going on? Are you coming back upstairs soon?"

Startled by the voice, everyone turned toward the entryway to the sitting room. A girl in her mid-twenties was standing there, smiling at them.

"Blimey, Kathy – I’m sorry! I’ve a bit of an emergency going on," Theo said, walking quickly over to give her a hug. "Come in and meet some friends of mine from school. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Kathy. Kathy, this is Draco, Pansy, and a former professor of mine, Severus Snape."

"It’s nice to meet you," Kathy said. "Theo’s told me so much about you. This is a nice surprise. I didn’t think I’d be meeting you until dinner tomorrow."

"Dinner?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I was planning on fire-calling you, Pansy and Gregg and invite you to dinner so you could all finally meet Kathy, but we got…busy," Theo said.

"So you haven’t fire-called Gregg yet?" Severus asked.

"No, not yet," Theo answered. "Why? Do you have something in mind?"

"Instead of fire-calling him, why don’t you pay him a visit," Severus said, a malicious gleam in his eye. "And invite him to go to dinner – tonight."

"Theo, what a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to drink?"

It had taken Gregg close to ten minutes to come downstairs after the house-elf announced him. Theo had to wonder why it had taken so long. Had he been in the middle of torturing Harry, right at that very moment? He realized playing his part was going to be harder than he'd originally thought – even though he was a Slytherin and well-versed in the art of deception, hiding his true feelings if he had to see Harry being tortured wasn't going to be easy.

"Thanks, Gregg. A glass of wine would be nice."

They were in the sitting room, if it could be called that. It was huge compared to the sitting room of Theo's home, with ancestral portraits in ornate frames, antique furniture, and a bar area with bottles of alcohol on shelves that took up the entire wall. Gregg was certainly living well these days.

Handing Theo his wine, Gregg asked, "So, what brings you here in the middle of the week?"

Theo smirked. "I’ve been to Malfoy Manor – comforting Draco."

Gregg raised an eyebrow. "Comforting? Why? What’s happened? The Malfoys are all right, aren’t they?"

"Oh, yes," Theo replied, "they’re fine. More than fine, I’d wager, now that Draco’s former lover no longer stands in the way of Draco giving them an heir."

"Oh?" Gregg looked curious. "You’re referring to Harry Potter?"

"I suppose you haven’t heard yet," Theo explained, "but Harry Potter is dead. Draco received word this morning. Seems Potter was killed while working undercover on a case – that’s where he’s been for the past six months. They didn’t find a body, but there was a video of him bleeding to death, so I guess they’re certain of it. Draco’s pretty distraught. He’s staying with his parents – says he can’t stand to be at Grimmauld Place, knowing that Potter is never coming back home."

Gregg studied Theo closely. "You don’t sound too upset by it. I thought you had a thing for Potter once."

"Depends on what you mean by thing," Theo quipped. "I wanted to get into his pants. I’d have loved to have had him tied to my bed where I could give him a proper fucking, use a belt or a whip on him for a few hours. Or better yet, Lucius’ cane. I always wanted to take that and fuck him with it. I’m sure Lucius would have lent it to me if I’d told him what I wanted it for. Hell, he probably would have wanted to take a turn. There was never any love lost between the two of them."

Theo paused for a moment, trying to appear wistful. "But if I’d done something like that, Draco would have never spoken to me again. Instead, I just fucked him a few times at Grimmauld Place when Draco wasn’t around. And do you know what Potter did? He had the nerve to dump me! I certainly regretted not taking the opportunity to fuck him over when I’d had the chance."

Theo set his wine glass down on the side table and clasped his hands together over his knee. "I didn’t come here to talk about Harry bloody Potter, though. I know it’s short notice, but my girlfriend’s in for a visit, and you, Pansy, and Draco have been hounding me about meeting her. Draco isn’t in any shape to go, but we’ve dinner reservations at nine and I have orders from Pansy to get you. She and Kathy, my girlfriend, are out shopping and sightseeing, so we’re to meet them at the restaurant. This is the only chance you’ll have to meet her, at least until her next visit; she’s returning to San Francisco tomorrow."

Gregg gave Theo a calculated look. "So that gives us an hour ‘til we need to be there."

Theo picked up his empty glass and held it out to Gregg for a refill. When Gregg returned, he handed the full glass back to Theo but remained standing.

"It’s too bad I didn’t know sooner what your true feelings were concerning Potter." Gregg continued to stare at Theo, then appeared to make a decision. "If you take a Wizard’s Oath to never breathe a word of it, I’ll let you in on a secret."

Theo took a sip of his wine, then smiled at Gregg mischievously. "A Wizard’s Oath, huh? You back to dabbling with dark magic?"

Gregg put his hand to his chest in mock innocence. "Who, me? Why does everyone think I still play with dark magic? Just because I was the best at it in seventh year. No, this isn’t dark magic. Well, not the way you’re thinking. Trust me, you’ll enjoy being in on this little secret, but I can’t take a chance of your accidentally telling someone. A Wizard’s Oath will keep that from happening."

"Very well, but this had better be worth it." Theo’s heart was pounding. He prayed that Gregg’s secret was Harry.

"I, Theodore Michael Nott, swear a Wizard’s Oath to never speak to anyone of the secret that Gregory Goyle is about to reveal to me tonight." Theo turned to Gregg and asked, "Satisfied?"

Gregg was grinning. "Oh yes, quite satisfied. Come with me upstairs – I’ve something to show you."

Theo set his glass down and followed Gregg, surreptitiously reaching into his trouser pocket, grasping the coin Granger had enchanted.

"Remember, back in fifth year, that room I showed you off my dad’s bedroom?" Gregg asked.

"You mean the room he’d take those Muggle boys and girls to? The ones he’d pick up at the bus station?"

"Yeah, that’s the one," Gregg replied. "I used to think I was getting away with something when I’d peek in through the open door and see him beating some of those kids with his belt or a paddle. Damn, I used to wank right there, getting off on seeing their arses red with welts, sometimes bleeding, bruises up and down their backs, chests, and thighs. Let me tell you, they’d screamed bloody murder too. I think seeing how my dad handled a whip is what made me so good at it in seventh year. It wasn’t ‘til later that I worked out he’d wanted me to watch."

They were standing in front of the door to the room they’d just been speaking of. Theo concentrated, trying to stay focused on the task, on controlling his facial features for when Gregg opened that door and they walked in…

The only light in the room came from three candles hovering along the wall. As Theo’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw that there was a bed with a body on it, arms and legs bound at the four corners. One of the candles was floating over the man’s groin, dripping hot wax onto his cock. The other candles were barely an inch above the man’s nipples, dripping wax onto them too. Theo watched in horror as each drop of wax splattered down onto skin, little sizzling sounds filling the air. The wax spread out for a moment, then disappeared, leaving behind raw and blistered flesh.

"Potter? You have…Harry Potter? How the hell did you manage that? He’s supposed to be dead," Theo said, hoping for the right mix of astonishment and awe. "And you’re using vanishing wax?" he asked as he watched another heated drop fall onto Harry’s nipple, then disappear. Each time a drop made contact, Harry’s body jerked, pulling against the bonds, little moans of pain joining the sounds of cooking flesh. Theo saw Harry was gagged – if he hadn’t been, he’d certainly be crying out in agony. Tears were streaming out of closed eyes, and he was turning his head from side to side, seeming to be delirious.

"Vanishing wax is perfect for this because it burns so hot – no clean-up since the wax is meant to burn itself up and disintegrate within seconds of making contact with a glass or metal surface. Of course, candles made with vanishing wax are supposed to be set in candle holders." Gregg ran his eyes over Harry’s body. "But I prefer them this way."

Theo swallowed hard, trying to avoid – but failing – thinking of how much pain Harry must be in. "That must really hurt. I could never have come up with something so creative."

"Damn right it hurts. He was screaming his head off earlier. That’s why I had to gag him. Listening to his screams grows old after an hour or so."

"How long have you been…" Theo couldn’t finish. He thought he might be ill and he couldn’t do that in front of Gregg. Gregg would never believe he was sincere in wanting to hurt Harry if he sicked up at the sight of Harry being tortured.

"I’ve had the candles over him for about four hours. I had only the one above his cock at the beginning, but when it burnt out, I replaced it and added the ones over his nipples. I had to gag him then. The room’s pretty well soundproofed, but I need to renew the spells. The room hasn’t been used for a while and his screams were getting out. I was trying to compile some Quidditch statistics and couldn’t concentrate."

"You mean you’ve had Potter tied up in here, being tortured, and you don’t even watch?" Theo asked incredulously.

"Hell, as long as he’s in this room, I’m going to make sure he knows nothing but pain. I have to work sometimes, so when I’m busy, I can leave the candles or some other automatic way of torturing the bastard. That’s the fun of it – thinking up new and creative ways to hurt him. I’ll get bored eventually, and then I’ll have to come up with a special way to kill him. I’ll probably leave him tied there and pour cauldron cleaner on the mattress. My dad did that once. It soaks into the bedding, then slowly eats away the skin, then the bones, ‘til there’s nothing left – no body, no evidence. My dad didn’t do it again because it took so long, but I think it’d be fun to watch Potter get eaten away like that, even if it does take a few weeks."

Theo turned, not wanting Gregg to see the revulsion on his face. He had to focus…he had to keep Gregg talking.

Taking a deep breath to center himself, Theo began to survey the room. "So you’ve had Potter here for over six months and you’ve kept him all to yourself. That’s being selfish, you know."

Gregg snorted. "Not hardly. I’ve a place near Chicago, in Highland Park, under a Muggle dance club called The Depot. I inherited it from my uncle when he died. He’d been the Secret-Keeper for the sex club called The Underworld, but when he became ill, he disbanded it. I started it up again, and I’ve been keeping Potter there, whoring him out to wizards I’ve met through my travels promoting the Quidditch charity games. You’d be surprised at some of the dark fantasies seemingly normal wizards hide deep in their souls. I learned how to get them to talk to me, to tell me what they desired. Then I give them what they want – for a fee of course. Potter’s not the only whore I’ve had there, but he’s been the only wizard. The rest are all Muggles."

"So when I met you on the Lakefront with that girl, is that what you were there for? Starting up the sex club?" Theo asked.

"She was the leasing agent for the shopping center where the dance club is located. We were out to lunch, talking about my taking over the lease. I didn’t know I could trust you at the time, so I told you she was my girlfriend. It gave me an excuse to be there if I was ever spotted again, but after that, whenever I went to Chicago, I Polyjuiced as a Muggle that the Dark Lord had my dad torture and kill. My dad kept souvenirs, like hunter’s trophies, so I used some hair from that particular one – I thought he’d been pretty attractive…well, at least before my dad finished with him," Gregg snickered.

"So why do you have Potter here now?" Theo asked, trying to get his mind off of what kind of trophies the elder Goyle would have collected.

"It was getting too risky keeping him there. He’d been recognized several times, but so far, no one wanted to lose their club privileges by going to the authorities. Quite the opposite happened, in fact – when they’d found out they could fuck the famous Harry Potter, most were willing to pay double for the chance to have him. But eventually, the extra money wasn’t worth the risk of having to close down if word got out to the wrong people. So I faked his death – and here he is."

Gregg looked at Theo, and in a conspiratorial tone of voice, asked, "Do you want to fulfill your fantasy, Theo? Do you want to get your revenge on Potter for dumping you? Whip his backside bloody, then fuck him raw? Now’s your chance. You’re my friend, so I won’t even charge you this time. But you have to let me watch."

Theo’s stomach lurched in apprehension. He didn’t want to do this, but how could he get out of it? What the bloody hell was taking Severus so long?

His grip tightened on the coin, and he suddenly felt it grow warm, then cold, then warm again – it was the signal! Thank the stars! He didn’t think he would have been able to play this game anymore without falling to pieces under the pressure.

"Well, I think it would be enjoyable, but only if he were conscious enough to know what was happening. He seems pretty out of it, and I’m not into necrophilia. Besides," Theo smiled leeringly, "if you’re going to give me a free shot, I want to take my time. We’re going to have to be leaving for the restaurant or we’ll be late. You don’t want to get on Pansy’s bad side by making her wait."

Gregg laughed. "You’re right about that one. We better get going. You can come back tomorrow night. Your girlfriend will be gone – you won’t have anything better to do, and you can take your time."

Gregg pointed his wand at the candles and floated them out of the room as they left, telling Theo, "I’ll fix him up with a few healing spells when I get home after dinner. That way, he’ll be somewhat recovered by the time you get here tomorrow. I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees you."

Theo followed Gregg out of the room, taking a quick glance back into the darkness before pulling the door closed. He hoped Harry would be all right – and that Severus’ plan was going to work. So far, it looked like it had, but the night wasn’t over yet.

Severus had learned at an early age the skill of moving silently through the world. When he’d been five, he’d used this skill to avoid his father when his father had come home drunk. When he’d been nine, he’d used this skill to watch Lily Evans on the playground with her sister. When he’d been twelve, he’d used this skill to avoid James Potter and his gang. When he’d been a professor, he’d used this skill to catch Harry Potter sneaking about the castle under that infernal Invisibility Cloak.

And today, he’d used this skill, along with that same Invisibility Cloak, to follow Gregg and Theo into the room where Harry Potter was being held captive.

After Theo had told them about Gregg, Severus had been sure Harry was being held in the room Theo had described. But they couldn’t simply barge in and save Harry; they couldn’t take a chance that Gregg hadn’t placed dark wards on the room. He was obviously capable of committing murder, and would no doubt kill Harry before allowing him to escape or be rescued. Severus needed to get into that room, analyze the wards, then determine if he could disable them or if he’d need assistance.

Severus had to give Theo credit for his acting ability. He’d almost been convinced that Theo actually did hate Harry, and for a moment, had been worried that Theo might give him up to Gregg.

But he hadn’t, and Severus had been able to walk right into Gregg’s house when Theo had entered, then silently follow the two upstairs and into the room.

Severus had wanted to be thorough in his checking of the wards. He’d started with dark ones, which fortunately were absent, then checked for normal locking wards. The ones that were being used could easily be taken down with magic. Apparently Gregg’s wards were meant to keep Harry from getting out; he wasn’t worried about anyone trying to get in, at least not while he was at home. He probably put up normal intrusion repelling wards when he went out of town.

It seemed Severus had sent the signal to Theo at the right time, based on Gregg’s offer to let Theo torture Harry. Severus couldn’t help but feel sorry for Theo in a way. All the poor boy had ever wanted was to turn his back on this type of life, to the point of disavowing his own father, and here he was in the thick of it, having it shoved right in his face again because he wanted to help them rescue Harry.

Severus could barely keep himself still in the darkened room after Theo had closed the door, but he didn’t want to take a chance that Gregg might return to check on Harry one last time before he and Theo left the house.

But Gregg hadn’t, and finally Severus felt safe enough to come out from under the cloak. Quickly casting Lumos, he rushed to Harry’s side and evaluated his condition.

Harry was, thankfully, unconscious and no longer aware of his pain. His groin and chest were covered in blisters, many of them open and oozing serum. The vanishing wax had caused some second degree burns, but ultimately would have been more painful than lethal since the wax dissipated almost as soon as it made contact with the skin.

Releasing Harry from his bonds, Severus cast multiple healing spells, not only on the burns but also on Harry’s wrists and ankles where his struggles against his restraints had caused them to chafe and bleed.

Then it was time for the trickiest part of the rescue.

At Hogwarts, Severus had always been irritated by Granger’s know-it-all attitude. Over the years, he’d come to understand that it resulted from a lack of self-confidence. She’d grown up in a Muggle world, then at eleven years of age had been thrust into a new world, a world full of magic, which she’d known nothing about. She’d compensated by learning everything she could about their world. Unfortunately, she’d made sure to tell everyone what she’d learned – repeatedly. Today, he was grateful for that attitude, and if she ended up being right about this, he would never be irritated with her again – no matter how many times she told him about it.

Severus took his wand, and cast a weak Sectumsempra on his left palm. The cut wasn’t deep, but it bled, and it was the blood that he needed. He took his palm and smeared the blood around the collar, at the same time saying, "With forgiveness in my heart, I now release you."

Granger’s theory was that since Goyle had been Polyjuiced as Severus, it was Severus’ blood that had sealed the collar, even if the hatred had been Goyle’s. She had gone into a long dissertation about how she thought Polyjuice changed a person, and that she believed it would actually affect a person’s DNA, blah, blah, blah. Severus didn’t know anything about DNA and he didn’t care what it was – something to do with Muggle science – as long as his blood worked in unsealing the collar.

The symbols began to glow as the red blood was absorbed and disappeared. Severus waited, and prayed that this would not be the one time that Granger was wrong.

Then it appeared – the clasp that allowed the collar to open once again.

Severus moved quickly to take the collar from around Harry’s throat, and almost dropped it when Harry’s eyes flew open and startled him. Harry sat up and gasped, taking in deep lungfuls of air, as if he’d been trapped underwater and unable to breathe until now.

Harry saw Severus standing over the bed and panicked, trying to push himself as far away from the man as possible, but his back was against the wall and he had nowhere to go.

"Please, please…no more…don’t hurt me anymore…please…" Harry was looking at him with such fear in his eyes that Severus felt sick, wondering what Gregg had done in the hours he’d had Harry here. Even after six months in the sex club, Harry hadn’t been this terrified.

Severus placed one knee on the bed, and tentatively reached his hand out, trying not to scare Harry any more than he already had. "Potter, it’s all right. See – I have the collar. I was able to get it off. I’m the real Severus Snape, not the imposter. You probably don’t believe me, but look…I’ve brought you something to prove to you who I am, and that you can use magic again."

Severus reached in his pocket, and slowly removed Draco’s hawthorn wand – the wand that Harry had used to kill Voldemort – and held it out for Harry to take.

Harry’s eyes went wide. He looked from the wand to Severus, then back to the wand again. Harry reached out, but hesitated. Severus took Harry’s hand and wrapped it around the hilt of the wand, squeezing tightly, then let go and backed off of the bed. It was the first time since Harry had been abducted that he’d held a wand, and Severus could see the pleasure grow in Harry’s eyes as he felt his magic surge.

Harry aimed the wand at the shackles hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.

"Reducto!"

The shackles exploded with a satisfying sound. Harry smiled like a child at Christmas, and he turned back to look at Severus, his eyes bright. But then Harry’s gaze changed focus, and looking towards the door of the room, he seemed puzzled as he asked, "Goyle? What are you doing here?"

Severus turned around – Gregory Goyle stood in the doorway, his wand pointing at Severus, the curse already leaving his lips.

"Crucio!"

Severus felt the pain of a thousand white-hot knives piercing his body. He fell to the floor, screaming in agony, the pain driving down into his bones. It had been over six years since anyone had cast Cruciatus on him, and he’d forgotten until now how horribly debilitating the fiery pain could be.

It seemed to go on for an eternity, but only seconds must have passed before he heard Harry cry out, "Leave him alone, you bastard! Finite! Finite! "

As quickly as he’d been taken by the pain, it stopped. Severus lay panting on the floor. Every muscle in his body ached, and his vision was blurry, the curse had been such a shock to his system. He felt a ringing in his ears, the sounds muffled, and he was afraid he’d be unconscious soon. He tried to feel about for his wand, but it must have fallen away from him when he’d been hit by the curse. All he could do was lie there and listen as the next curse was cast.

"Impedimenta!"

Severus was sure that had been Harry’s voice, but it must have missed, because the next thing he heard was Goyle, as he shouted, "So, you have your magic back! It’s not going to help you, Harry! Expulso!"

Harry’s "Protego!" blocked the curse, which Severus now realized had been aimed at him.

"Snape! Snape, are you all right?" Severus could barely make out Harry’s face, peering down at him worriedly.

"Aww, isn’t that sweet?" Goyle taunted. "Worried about protecting your precious bloody Snape? You should worry more about protecting yourself, Harry! Confringo! "

Harry dropped to the ground and rolled to the side of the bed. The curse missed Harry by inches, causing the mattress and headboard to explode. Severus covered his head as debris rained down on him.

Harry shot back his own curse at Goyle. "Sectumsempra!"

He’d managed to graze the left side of Goyle’s arm, and Goyle roared in pain.

"You’re going to regret that, Harry! Imperio! "

Severus wanted to laugh. Goyle was such a fool – didn’t everyone know Harry could resist Imperius? Apparently not Goyle.

Severus tried to move, to pull himself to the corner of the room so that he’d be in less danger of being hit by a stray curse. He couldn’t help Harry, but he could at least make himself less of a target so that Harry could concentrate on the duel and not be distracted by trying to keep Severus safe.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

"Missed me, Harry, you worthless piece of shite!" Goyle sneered. "Expelliarmus! "

Severus saw Harry try and dodge, but the curse hit his hand and Harry’s wand went flying away.

"Did you really think you were going to escape me?" Goyle pointed his wand at Severus, but held Harry’s gaze. "I’ll never let you go, Harry, and this time, Snape isn’t going to be able to save you. Say good-bye to your precious Snape. Avada Ke-"

"NO!" Harry screamed. He threw himself down over Severus, covering him with his own body, trying to shield him, ready to take the curse…

Fighting the black spots as they began to take over his sight, dragging him down…down into unconsciousness, Severus reached out, and with the last of his strength, called on every bit of his wandless magic …

"Accio Goyle’s wand!"

Severus felt a wand fly into his outstretched hand.

Then the blackness took him, and he knew no more.

Chapter 11: If I’d Died And Gone To Heaven, They’d Both Be Naked

The first thing Severus became aware of when he opened his eyes was Harry, asleep, lying in bed next to him on his right. The second thing he became aware of was Draco, asleep, lying in bed next to him on his left.

The third thing he became aware of was Lucius Malfoy, sitting in a chair to the side of the bed, smirking.

"Nice of you to finally rejoin the land of the living," he said, when he saw that Severus’ eyes were open, "although waking with two good-looking young men in your bed, I expect that you thought you may have died and gone to heaven."

Severus smirked back. "No, if I’d died and gone to heaven, they’d both be naked, not dressed in T-shirts and shorts, and you’d be in this bed along with us, old friend."

Lucius laughed. "I suppose if one of them wasn’t my own son, you’d be right. However, incest is something I’ve never been interested in." Lucius’ tone turned serious. "Just be good to him – to both of them. I can’t say I care much for Harry, but Draco does, and that’s what counts."

Draco and Harry both began to stir at the sound of the men talking. Draco came awake first, then Harry slowly joined him. Neither one moved from their positions next to Severus though.

"So, is someone going to tell me what happened? How did I get to Malfoy Manor, and why do I feel like a hippogriff stomped all over my body?" Severus demanded.

"You’re getting old, Severus," Lucius replied, "and you’re out of practice. When you had the Dark Lord casting the Cruciatus Curse on you every few weeks, your muscles built up strength to resist it. And you can’t expect to recover as quickly from the effects of it now as you could when you were in your thirties, even if Goyle only had it on you for a few seconds. According to Draco, Goyle earned a reputation during seventh year for the strength of his Cruciatus Curse – it’s not a surprise that you succumbed so easily.

"I Apparated you here to the Manor where there’s still a supply of Nerve Regenerating potion on hand, left over from the time when the Dark Lord – lived – here. You’ll be fine. I called a private mediwitch and she examined you while you were unconscious. Harry will be fine too. You cast some powerful healing charms, it seems."

Draco and Harry both sat up. Lucius seemed to take that as his cue. "I’ll leave the boys to fill you in on the details. Now that you’re all awake, I’ll have the house-elves make you something to eat and have it brought up. I think you should take it easy today. You have much to talk about. You also need to think about what you’re going to say when you have to face the public."

After Lucius left, Severus gazed at Harry reproachfully. "You jumped in front of the Killing Curse, foolish boy. What were you thinking?"

Harry flushed, but held Severus’ stare. "I wasn’t going to lose you, not when…not when you’d been searching for me for six months. You’d finally said you cared for me. I’d waited so long to hear you admit that, and when Goyle started to cast the curse, I couldn’t think of anything else to do. He’d disarmed me, and I’ve never been good at wandless magic. I just…I just wanted to protect you for a change."

Severus sighed, but didn’t argue. If Harry Potter didn’t act foolish every now and then, he wouldn’t be Harry Potter.

"Well, fortunately for you, I am good with wandless magic." Severus then turned to Draco and asked, "How did you and your father end up at the Goyle home? I assume since Lucius was there, you were the one to bring him."

"Theo Apparated to the Manor in a panic, saying that while they were eating, Gregg had been alerted to some type of ward going off and he’d Apparated home. Apparently there was a small ward he’d placed on Harry’s bindings, and when you released him, it was triggered."

Severus looked sheepish. "I should have thought to check for that, especially when I saw that the locking ward on the room was designed to keep Harry in. Goyle was obviously concerned with Harry escaping. It makes sense he would have had a ward on the bindings, in case Harry were to work his way out of them, but I was in a hurry to complete my analysis, especially when I’d heard Goyle offering Theo a chance to torture Harry. I wasn’t sure how much longer Theo could keep his act going."

Severus turned to Harry now and asked, "So it appears that Goyle Apparated back home and caught us unawares."

"Yeah, you could say that. I cast Reducto on those shackles," Harry said, and shuddered, "then the next thing I knew, there was Gregory Goyle, standing at the door. He seemed about as shocked to see me as I was to see him, but then he cast Cruciatus on you, and you fell to the floor. It took me a moment to regain my senses, and I cast Finite – then the curses were flying.

"I had no idea until Draco told me later that Goyle had been using that Potion Patch to Polyjuice as the man picking up Muggles, and also as you. I’d never have guessed it was him. I didn’t realize how much he hated me…we were always polite with each other when he’d come to visit Draco. I didn’t consider him a friend, but I never would have considered him an enemy, either…"

Harry trailed off, disappointment evident in his voice. Severus knew from Draco how much it meant to Harry to put the hatred of the past behind them, to heal the wounds created by the war. It must have been difficult for Harry to think that there were still wizards around who felt such extreme malice towards him after all these years.

"Who has the collar now?" Severus asked Draco.

"I picked it up off the floor before we left Gregg’s place. I gave it back to Theo. He’s at the Ministry right now, working with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in extracting his memories of everything Gregg told him in the room, concerning what he’d done to Harry, and about the Muggles and his place in Chicago. I don’t know how Gregg was ever sorted into Slytherin, but I suppose it was the best match of the four houses. A true Slytherin would have caught on that Theo’s Oath was worded so that Theo couldn’t speak of the secret; nothing prohibited him from being able to show the secret, or write it down. Theo’s disappointed, though, that he wasn’t able to get Gregg to reveal the location of the sex club – at least he managed to get the name of the Muggle dance club and the city where it’s located. There’s still the problem of rescuing the Muggles, though. Right now, Severus, you’re the only one who can get in there."

"Gregg hasn’t been willing to strike a deal? I assume he’s in Ministry custody," Severus said.

"Yes, I cast a Stunner as soon as Father and I arrived and saw what the situation was. We contacted Kingsley Shacklebolt directly. Gregg denies the entire thing. Says Harry is making it all up. I’m sure he thinks that with the law change, making the use of Veritaserum voluntary, he won’t be forced into confessing. I guess he doesn’t know yet about Theo’s memories. But even then, I don’t think he’s going to give up the location of the club. He’ll be convicted, I’ve no doubt of that, based on his admission of torturing Harry, and the club will have to be disbanded since he won’t be out there abducting any more Muggles. But there are the others who are still imprisoned right now that we – or rather you – need to get out." Draco looked questioningly at Severus. "You will go back to get them out, won’t you?"

Severus gave Draco a malicious grin. "Of course I will, and it will be my pleasure to also make sure Mr. Sebastian pays for his part in all of this." Then he looked to Harry, who’d been silent for a while. "Potter, how do you feel about it? Lucius was correct in that we need to decide what we’re going to say. Goyle’s trial will be open to the public. The entire wizarding world is going to know what was done to you. There’s no way to avoid it."

Harry couldn’t meet Severus’ eyes this time. "I’ve thought about that, a lot. I can’t say I’m not scared to have the whole world know that I was…well, basically turned into a whore. It wasn’t my choice, though, and I did what I did to keep alive. There’re always going to be wizards and witches out there who’ll think the worst of me – some will think I asked for it, or that I enjoyed it and didn’t try to escape. Others will think I should have chosen death over allowing those men to use me like that, but unless you’re in that situation, you can’t understand how the body’s defense mechanisms kick in. No matter how much pain I was in, I wanted to live. It was only at the last, when Goyle brought me back to London, that I began to…break. The thought of being in pain, with no hope of relief, was becoming too much to bear. At least in the sex club, there’d been times I could rest. Sebastian was cruel, but he healed me. I’d never given up hope that someone would find me until I was brought here, and Goyle told me everyone thought I was dead."

Harry finally looked up, first at Draco, then to Severus, determination burning in his eyes. "I know the road ahead is going to be rough, but I want Goyle to pay for what he did to me, and I’m not talking about the torture and rape – I’m talking about making me doubt someone that I knew, deep in my heart, to be a good man.

"When I learned about the prophecy and that I would have to face Voldemort, I was sure I’d never survive our confrontation. When I saw…in your memories…that I would have to die…and how that had upset you, one of the things I had regrets about as I walked to face my death was that I would never have a chance to get to know you. You had done so much to protect me, and I’d never known it until then.

"But I ended up living, and so did you. I thought I’d been given a second chance, a chance to make things right between us. It never made sense to me that you wouldn’t want a second chance too. And then I thought, maybe you resented me, for having to give up so much of your life to being a spy, to teaching at Hogwarts when you could have been a famous Potions Master, creating new and cutting edge potions. Draco told me that had been a dream of yours, and if it weren’t for me, you could have done it.

"So I wanted to give you some time. Draco said the two of you worked together, experimenting on new potions, and I thought that maybe, eventually, if you started realizing some of your dreams, you’d finally give me a chance – even a day, to talk with you a little, to get an opportunity to say thank you, for everything you’d done for me.

"Then, when the abduction happened, and I thought it was you – it was like my entire world fell apart. Everything that I’d believed in, about your being a good person inside, that the way you treated me so badly in school was because you had to make everyone believe you hated me – none of that was true. I believed that you really did hate me after all. Goyle was so convincing. I should have known better. And I’m sorry for not trusting you more."

Severus wasn’t sure what to say. His habit had always been to turn and run rather than deal with his own feelings. But he couldn’t forget the icy shock that had coursed through his body as he’d watched the video of Harry bleeding to death. Even though now he knew it hadn’t been Harry, the feeling would always remain burned into his soul.

"The issues concerning us are complicated, Potter." Severus looked at Draco as he continued. "And neither one of us can deny how we feel about Draco, nor how Draco feels about us. I told you once that I would not desert you after you were freed, and I meant it. I’m in this for the long-term, and I believe Draco is too."

Draco reached across Severus and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze.

Just then, several house-elves arrived, carrying trays filled with enough food to feed an army. Pansy, Granger, and Weasley followed.

"My, don’t you three look comfy. Your father told us you probably didn’t want to be disturbed, Draco, and said we should go right up," Pansy said with a laugh.

"That’s my father," Draco drawled as he stood up from the bed. Both Severus and Harry reluctantly followed suit.

"I think I’m going to be scarred for life," Weasley commented, but with a smile. "And as much as it pains me to say it," he added, his face turning as red as his hair, "Snape…thank you…for bringing Harry back to us. I’d hate to think what would have happened if…well, just…thanks. Now let’s eat! This smells great!"

"Ron!" Granger said as she hit him on the arm. Then she turned to Severus, who just knew what she was going to say. "So I was right about the Polyjuice changing a wizard’s DNA. That’s good to know. I should probably do some more research on that. It’d be interesting to find out if a man who Polyjuices into a woman would be capable of becoming pregnant. Before it seemed unlikely, given the one-hour time limit, but now with the Potion Patch, it’s theoretically possible."

"I’m sure if anyone can work out the answer to that, it will be you, Ms. Granger," Severus told her diplomatically. "Now for once, I am in agreement with Mr. Weasley. I think that we should all eat. We’re going to need our strength when it comes time to greet our adoring public." Plus, he thought wryly, no one could talk if they had a mouthful of food. Well, almost no one – Weasley could probably manage it.

As everyone began to eat, Severus noticed Harry off to the side and walked over to him. "Will you be all right?" Severus asked him quietly.

Harry reached out to him and wrapped his arms around Severus’ waist, burying his head into Severus’ chest. After a moment, Severus could feel Harry’s body trembling – he was crying.

Severus held him tight, rubbing small circles on his back, trying in his own awkward way to offer what little comfort he could. He wasn’t good at it, but he would have to learn if he was going to be able to keep his promise to Harry. There would be many more times like this – perhaps a lifetime. What Harry had gone through couldn’t simply be wished away – it had left an indelible mark.

Draco walked over, and Severus opened his arm, inviting him into the embrace. The room had gone silent. "Professor, I think we should go, so you three can get some rest," Granger offered.

"No," Harry spoke up as he lifted his head. "Please, stay. I need you all right now. I’ll be fine. It’s a bit overwhelming, you know. After so many months, to finally…" Harry closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, "be free." He smiled, his eyes still watery. "I don’t know what I would have done in that place if I hadn’t had my memories of my good times with you. I wanted to be with all of you so much – it’s what kept me going. And now, you’re here. So please, stay."

Harry lowered his voice, so that only Draco and Severus could hear the last bit. "Thank you for not giving up the search for me. I know it must have seemed hopeless at times."

"We’d never abandon you, Harry," Draco assured him. "Not when you were missing, and not now that you’re back."

Severus agreed. "No matter what happens, Draco and I will be at your side."

THE END

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