Your Life Is Mine.

((Still no sex, but the next chapter will be rather smutty, this is just sort of building up to everything. I hope you are all enjoying it.))

Over the next two weeks, Draco found his life at school very much improved from the last 5 years. His new pet was taking care of his Potions and DADA homework and he had Pansy for Transfiguration, Divination and Arithmancy, which freed him up to spend quite a bit of time in the library. He researched various spells and potions, plotting his first true act as his godfather's new Master, wanting the first time to linger in the man's mind so that he would know just what he could expect from now on.


Once upon a time, Draco had worried about the dark, twisted pathways of his mind, his hunger for power, aptitude for cruelty and the horrific fantasies that had delighted him since he was eleven years old. However, he'd long since given up worrying about what sort of person he was, deciding that such questions and moral qualms were better left to Gryffindors. Now, he indulged himself in the most wicked daydreams he had ever imagined, curled into a dark corner of the library, immersed in books and his own poisonous mind.


Nearly two weeks had passed since he had claimed Snape, when he stumbled across just the potion he'd been hunting for in a book he'd retrieved from the Restricted section. He remembered how Snape had shuddered when he had ordered him to somehow grant Draco access to the section, and knew that his godfather had spent the last two weeks in an agony of trepidation and anticipation of the worst.


Draco removed a quill, ink and parchment from his bag and carefully copied down the potion, that familiar cold smirk curling his lips. He blew across the words and rolled the parchment, hurriedly gathering his things and returning books to their section before leaving the library to head for the dungeons. As he was climbing down he stopped suddenly when a flash of realization swam over him.


'What if Severus purposefully bollocks up the potion? What if he makes himself sick for weeks, or even...kills himself? It would be the end of all my fun, and certainly a much cleaner death than Voldemort would ever grant the traitor.'


Draco sat on the stairs, frowning over this new thought, realizing that at any point his godfather could kill himself, and likely would after some of the things Draco had planned. 'Not only that, but he could go to Dumbledore...or Voldemort himself! Why, if the Dark Lord learns that I had known of Snape's treachery and had done nothing?' The blond boy hugged his arms around himself and shuddered, mentally scolding himself for being so stupid for so long.


'Still, Snape hasn't done anything yet, possibly holding out hope that I will only tease him and force him to do my homework, but otherwise leave him alone. So, the situation was still salvageable, as long as I can come up with a way to keep Snape from going to anyone or killing himself.' Silvery-blue eyes flicked up the stairs, and he considered returning to the library to research enslavement spells, but then a memory went darting behind his eyes and he closed them to open himself up to it.


Images of his father dragging a woman into their home by her hair, unaware of the six-year-old boy crouched on the stairs watching him, bloomed in the dark behind his eyelids. The memory grew and became so strong that Draco could almost hear the wracking sobs of the dark-haired beauty kneeling at his father's feet, the cold hiss of his father's words as he cursed the woman for fleeing before he was through playing with her.


Draco knew that the answer to his predicament is there, in the memory, and he waited breathlessly for it to click into place, hands curled into tight fists on his thighs. His heartbeat quickened as he saw his father slip a thick metal collar from his cloak and place it around the woman's neck, a gleam in his deep blue eyes. Lucius leaned forward and touched the tip of his wand to the collar, hissing triumphantly. 'But...what did he say?'


Draco held back a scream of frustration and instead rewound his memory, leaning forward as he listened intently to his father, knowing the word is there, and he needed only to pluck it out. "Constrixis!" It rattled about in his mind as if his father had shouted it against his ear, and a smile burst across his face, the word releasing more memories of the next night when he'd gathered up the courage to ask his father about the woman.


"Draco, that was what you might call Daddy's slave, a sexual partner that has no free will and is forced only to pleasure me and those I order her to. Now, the Constrixis spell must be cast on a very strong metal, for it is only as strong as the substance it is placed upon. The metal must be worn by the one you are placing under the spell, it doesn't matter where as long as it is worn somewhere on their person. The interesting thing about this spell, is that the one under it retains awareness of their actions, and free will, though you control their body. You could order such a slave to walk off a high cliff and they would struggle not to, knowing they are walking to their doom, and yet they will walk serenely to it. It is a forbidden spell, but we both know that only means that the Ministry says not to use it, not that they actually monitor it's use."


On the stairs, ten years after this conversation, Draco beamed, delighted with the knowledge that his godfather would be fully conscious of his actions and unable to help himself, locked inside his own mind looking out through his eyes. Aware!


The slim blond rose from the stairs and continued down, pondering what he would place the spell on, then remembered the ring on his godfather's left hand. Hadn't he told Draco once it was made of Urog's silver, the strongest metal known to wizardingkind? Yes...Yes, Draco believes he did. He held back a laugh and stoppped before the Potions master's door, knocking soundly and stepping in when he was bid, closing the door behind him.


He glanced over the room and yawned lightly, arching a brow to his godfather where he sat next to the fire, seemingly staring into it. "Well?" A note of menace infused his soft voice and he watched with a smirk as his pet rose and walked over to kneel at his feet, trembling and murmuring.


"Good evening, Master. It's wonderful to see you." Snape clenched his hands together in an attempt to fight off the desire to rip his godson limb from limb, that terrible sense of dread having become almost unbearable over the last fortnight, though now he wished the boy had never shown up. 'Perhaps I should have gone to Voldemort and turned myself in? No...No, surely the mind of a sixteen year old boy couldn't be as sadistic as that of the Dark Lord.'


Draco looked down on his godfather with a smile that would have chilled even Voldemort's cold heart, a smile of pure selfish indulgence. This boy is no megalomaniac, he doesn't desire the world, for that would force him to take responsibility for it. No, all Draco wants is one slave, the crushing power over this one man who could conceivably bring him everything his dark heart has ever desired. 'Is that so much to ask?'


He lowered a hand and lightly touched the black locks covering his godfather's head, whispering. "Stand, pet. There's something I need to do, and I'll need your left hand for a moment."


Snape blinked, wondering what his godson was up to as he rose to his feet and offered forth his left hand with the bright silver ring encircling his pinky. Draco's eyes lingered on the ring as he pulled out his wand and lifted it, knowing his godfather couldn't begin to imagine what he was about to do, and the knowledge brought a haunting smile to his lips. The wand tip tapped the ring and Draco hissed..."Constrixis!"


Snape's eyes flew wide and he jerked back, stumbling over his rug and ending up sprawled on top of it, staring at Draco as if the boy had just cast the Killing Curse upon him. "Draco! What have you done?"