Hogsmeade, Circa 1826

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“That’s not Hogsmeade!” Harry said defiantly.

“Yes, Pot- Master, it is. Haven’t you read ‘Hogwarts: A History?” He rolled his eyes when Harry replied negatively. “Well, you should. It gives the history of Hogsmeade as well as other nearby towns.”

Severus could plainly see the town sign in the distance, and, though he couldn’t read it from where they were, knew without a doubt the slogan written on it; “Hogsmeade: Home to the finest mead and sex-slaves this side of Katmandu!”

Severus closed his eyes tightly, reigning in his anger and frustration before he could say something that would cause the slave collar to kill him.

“Ok, so it is, Hogsmeade. What’s the big deal? I mean, we go in and find someone to help or go to Hogwarts, right?” Harry asked uncertainly, hoping and praying it was that easy. His hopes were dashed as Severus shook his head.

“This is obviously not the 21st Century, Master,” Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes still squeezed shut. “If I’m correct, this is Hogsmeade of the early 19th century.”

“The nineteenth.. Geez! How do you think he did it?” Harry inquired as he stared it awe at the town he was beginning to recognize in some small details.

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t still be here, would we?” Severus said cantankerously before he could stop himself. The collar gave a warning squeeze, but that was all, causing Severus to wince and growl.

“So what do we do?”

“Well, there’s not really much we can do at the moment. I suggest we use some of that gold and find a room for the night. I think it best if we don’t interact with too many of the locals.”

Harry nodded and began down the gently slopping hill into the valley. He listened closely as Severus gingerly made his way behind him. With having his throat constricted so many times already and his unstable footing, Harry didn’t want Severus to slip again. As they reached the valley floor, Harry spotted the Hogsmeade sign and gasped in shock.

“Sex-slaves?!” he said in a high pitched yell. Severus kept his head down as he groaned frustration at Harry’s childishness. “Sex-slaves? You’re supposed to be my sex-slave?” he asked Severus disbelievingly.

“Apparently,” Severus said, not daring to look the young man in the face out of embarrassment. “Hogsmeade was well known for its trade in sex-slaves before slavery was abolished in the late 19th Century.”

“Bloody hell!” Harry said under his breath as he turned to once again stare at the sign. “All right… Is there any difference in the way we act?”

“Only if you decide you want to publicly display my… talents,” Severus said softly, blushing deep red.

“What?” Harry asked, not being sure of what he had heard from the soft voice.

“Never mind,” Severus told him, dismissing the subject. “Just remember to give me orders. I don’t sit unless you tell me to, and don’t talk to me. Other than giving me orders, I’m just a shadow to you.”

Harry nodded his acquiesce and started to walk again.

“Master?” Severus called, his voice almost sickly sweet. When Harry turned to look at him, he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. “If we fail to play our roles as slave and master, the consequences will be disastrous. If you do not convince the general populace of your Mastery, they will believe us to both be runaway slaves and either kill us or worse… Sell us at auction to the highest bidder!”

Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly as Severus’ words sunk in. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders before giving Severus a curt nod. Severus gave him a short bow before Harry turned and strode purposefully toward the town square.

Entering the town, Severus kept his head down but was able to glimpse his surroundings. He was amazed to recognize some of the buildings that still stood in his own time, many of them hadn’t changed a bit in nearly two hundred years. He sensed more than saw Harry halt in the middle of the square and came to a stop precisely two steps behind him, his head bowed and his hands crossed in front of him.

“Boy!” Harry called out to a boy of approximately 12 years of age that was walking towards them with his head down. The boy’s head jerked up and he stared at Harry with frightened brown eyes.

“Y-yes sir?” he squeaked nervously.

“Where’s the inn?” Harry asked in a firm manner. The boy relaxed visibly at Harry’s question.

“At the end of that street, sir,” he said, pointing towards where Harry knew the Hog’s Head to be in his time.

“Thank you, boy.” Harry gave a nod of appreciation, then turned to go in the direction the boy pointed, Severus following quietly behind.

Severus hated to admit it, even to himself, but Harry had addressed the child in the perfect manner. Perhaps they would survive this ordeal after all.

Just before reaching the Hog’s Head tavern, they stopped. A two-story building stood between a butcher shop and the pub. A dusty, squeaky sign hung just barely above Severus’ head sorely stating ‘The Rusty Nail Inn and Tavern’.

Harry gave Severus a weary look. Severus shivered with dread, remembering stories he had once read regarding ‘The Rusty Nail’. It was a nasty place with a nasty reputation for it’s treatment of slaves. They didn’t have many choices, however, so he gave a miniscule nod to Harry to enter.

Harry steeled his wits and briskly entered the dim, smoky establishment. He was immediately assaulted by the smell of stale bread, ale, and something he couldn’t quite identify. He spotted the barkeep and made his way over, ignoring everything else in the room.

“Wha’ is it?” the bearded keep asked in a deep burr.

“I need a room,” Harry stated confidently.

“Is a shillin’ a nigh’. Up front, mind,” the man informed him, eyeing first Harry, and then Severus as though judging whether Harry could afford it.

Harry pulled a single gold coin from the little purse hung on his hip. “How long will this get me?” he asked, again with great confidence, though he was quaking inside. He had no idea how much a shilling was or how much the gold was actually worth.

The dirty barman’s eyes lit up at the sight of the shining gold piece in Harry’s hand, telling Harry that it was indeed worth a lot of shillings.

“That’ll git cha three weeks,” the man said reaching for the coin.

“A month,” Harry challenged. “With meals.”

“A month!” The man exclaimed, but looking back at the coin Harry had moved as though to return to his purse, he growled. “All righ’! A month then.”

“With meals,” Harry repeated as the man’s grubby fingers tried to grab hold of the coin.

“With meals,” the barkeep muttered. As soon as Harry released the gold coin, the man bit into it, testing it’s purity. He seemed quite satisfied with it as he grinned happily. He pulled a key from a peg on the wall behind him and handed it to Harry. “Room 3, top o’ the stairs.”

“Thank you,” Harry said with a curt nod. Still ignoring the rest of the tavern, Harry pulled Severus’ chain and led him up the stairs.


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