Bonds of Affection

Two days later, Severus Snape and Harry Potter were in the office of Albus Dumbledore together. Severus kept his face stoically impassive, even as he was about to disclose the latest development.... that heralded the end to his spying career.... and this end had never seemed so entirely welcome.

“Potter does not need to be here,” Snape said coldly. “This does not concern him.”

“I am afraid it does,” Dumbledore answered. “After all, he was the intended target of the substance...” Dumbledore's gaze fell on the flask that stood on the table.

“But since he is not going to drink it, it has nothing to do with him, and his presence is not required...”

Harry sat quietly, watching his Professor and the Headmaster bicker back and forth. Snape could swear that the brat was enjoying himself.

“What if Voldemort is going to try again?” Dumbledore offered softly. “What if he makes another batch of substance, and this time it will be Lucius Malfoy delivering it? Then what?”

Snape winced slightly. “Then you will deal with the problem as it arises. But for now...”

“But for now,” Dumbledore said firmly, “You will explain the situation to Harry the best you can. I gave him my word that he will know what is going on.”

Harry was staring at both of them quizzically.

“Harry,” Dumbledore said gently. “As you must know by now, Professor Snape is a double-agent... he is the only person in Voldemort's inner circle of trust, working for us.”

Harry nodded mutely.

“Not many people know where his true loyalties lie,” Dumbledore continued. “I do, Minerva McGonagall does... and so do you. But that is all.”

“Okay,” Harry said quietly. “So what is the substance...”

“The substance, Potter, is an enslavement potion,” Snape said sourly. “The future slave must drink it from the hand of the future Master.”

Harry glanced at him incredulously. “You are kidding, right?”

Snape looked at him with loathing.

“You are not kidding,” Harry muttered. “So...what is supposed to happen?”

Snape laughed disdainfully. “What do you think, Potter?”

“Voldemort wants you to enslave me...,” Harry stammered. “But why? To... control me?”

“Bravo, Potter,” Snape sneered. “Wonderful deduction.”

“Because he knows that I am his Horcrux,” Harry said firmly. “He wants to kill me – but doing so would weaken his chance at immortality. But he also doesn't just want me roaming around, trying to destroy him... if he enslaves me – it will solve his problem.”

Snape glared at Dumbledore. “Potter knows about Horcruxes? Are you out of your mind, Headmaster?”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore said reluctantly. “But we will discuss my sanity later. Right now, we need to formulate an exit strategy for you – this was definitely not ... something I had anticipated.”

“Indeed,” Snape said, but without hostility. He felt tired and drained. “There really is no exit strategy, Albus. I'm sorry – I wish I could have done more in my years as a spy. And I am sorry that you will need to find a new instructor to fill my position rather shortly.”

“Wait just a second,” Harry spoke up, and the two adults turned to look at him. “Why can't Snape – er, Professor Snape still teach after this?”

Snape glared at the boy, marveling at his stupidity. Because dead people can't teach very effectively, he almost said out loud, but stopped himself just in time.

“Let's just say, once my obligations to Albus are fulfilled, I intend to take a well-deserved vacation, and live out my remaining days in peace,” Snape said impassively. All seven or eight of them, he thought with an inward smirk. Oddly enough, it felt good to think of approaching death – he had lived far too long. Thirty-eight years, but he felt absolutely ancient. The years of pain, darkness, betrayals, danger, lost friendships, misunderstandings and regrets... He chuckled softly at the thought of it all ending.

“Voldemort is going to try and kill Professor Snape for failing in his task,” Dubmledore said suddenly. Snape shot him a deathly glare.

Harry sat on the chair with his mouth gaping open.

“Don't worry yourself needlessly, Harry,” Dumbledore said kindly. “I am certain we will come up with something. Now then – off you go. The rest of the conversation does not concern you.”

“What if we trick Voldemort?” Harry offered. “I am sure I could ... pretend to be enslaved.”

“Tempting, Potter,” Snape said coolly. “The idea of having you respectful and obedient for an entire year is quite appealing, even if extremely unlikely to materialize. Unfortunately, the potion has a tracking spell on it. The spell will inform Voldemort whether it is drunk, or simply discarded...”

“What are the ingredients of the potion?” Harry asked, taking a quill and a parchment from Dumbledore's desk without asking for permission. Snape rose his eyebrows in surprise, but prompted by a curt nod from Dumbledore, recited the ingredients – from Devil's Snare Root to Wailing Willow Bark, as Harry wrote them down. Snape watched the boy with reluctant approval – the cautious gathering of information spoke well of his intelligence.... for once.

“What does Wailing Willow Bark do?” Harry asked absently.

“That I do not know, I am afraid,” Snape said, reluctant to admit his lack of knowledge about an ingredient. He knew exactly what the other ingredients did – awakened desires for powerlessness, surrender and vulnerability in the future slave. And that was only a part of it...

“Would it really work?” Harry asked, gazing doubtfully at the flask with the clear fluid. “I mean – it seems a bit far-fetched. An enslavement potion?”

Snape nodded gravely. “There are a number of enslavement spells, potions and contracts in the wizarding world, Potter. This particular potion is ... especially insidious. The attachment it creates is not instantly felt by the slave. It grows over a period of time. It is both extremely powerful and extraordinarily subtle. The desires felt as a result of the bond can be quite overwhelming and shocking – and yet, the person feels that those desires are truly his own - and not those of the bond.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, as he scribbled furiously.

“Can there be an antidote developed?” he asked. “Or at least, a treatment?”

Snape shook his head. “No, I'm afraid not. It's not ... something that just stays in your bloodstream or organs, until you introduce something else that can neutralize it or knock it out. It enters your mind, your awareness... your very being. It transforms you.”

“Interesting,” Harry said quietly. “So when am I expected to turn into your obedient slave-boy?”

Snape shook his head absently. “That is not going to happen, Potter. There are limits to what I will do to defeat Voldemort. Having a Master/slave relationship with my least favorite student is definitely high up on that list.”

“Well, I'm not exactly making an offer just yet,” Harry retorted. There appeared to be a strained quality to his voice. “I just want to know how long you have...”

“A week,” Snape said impassively.

“Professor Snape is right, Harry,” Dumbledore spoke up finally. “Such a relationship between a teacher and a student would be entirely inappropriate. Extremely harmful. And quite unnecessary. There will be other ways of solving this problem. More to the point, I will not let you drink the potion. We will find other ways...”

“Sure,” Harry agreed easily, with a nod to them both. “Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Have a good day, Professor, Headmaster.”

Snape watched him thoughtfully as he left.

“Why on earth would you tell him about any of this?” Snape growled when the door slammed shut behind Harry Potter. “This was completely uncalled for.”

“I gave him my word,” Dumbledore said quietly. “To advise him of anything that pertains to him. To stop keeping things from him just to assure his inner peace...”

Snape laughed unhappily. “Well, this definitely fits the bill. I suppose it's best if that he knows – after all, once I am gone, Voldemort will likely try again. For the rest of his time at Hogwarts, Potter will need to be very careful about what he drinks.”

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