FOR SERVICES RENDERED

The next two chapters contain scenes which some readers might find upsetting, there is also a cliffhanger ahead, you might want to wait for chapter thirty four before reading on. Thirty three up shortly.

Thanks to KIm for betaing. TQA, miss ya baby sending you love and hugs Lxxx


Chapter Thirty Two

In the end Farid only spent a couple of hours at the party. It had been fun. He had danced with Hermione, and a blonde girl called Luna, and Lavender Brown whom he did not really like, because she would keep kissing him. He had talked to lots of people that he had never met properly before and heard his flying skills analysed and discussed time after time. He tried the punch that Seamus and Dean had created, “Very fruity but with quite a kick! Suitable for eighteen year olds and above only,” so Seamus had said. The Irishman did not have his usual sparkle that afternoon, since Draco had not turned up, and after several glasses of his liquid creation inside him, Seamus had become maudlin and somewhat worse for wear. A slightly inebriated Ron was doing his best to comfort his pal, “Couldn’t ‘spect him to come really,” Ron was saying as Farid climbed out of the portrait hole, “We smacked Slytherin’s arse today. They ain’t gonna celebrate that are they?”

Farid wondered how drunk Seamus was because he had not pointed out the obvious, which was that Draco really should have been there, even if the main reason for the party was that everyone was celebrating the Gryffindor victory. The very fact that there was plenty of free booze available, and on a school night too, had meant that Blaise, Pansy, Vincent, Greg and Daphne, along with a number of Slytherin sixth and seventh years, had overcome any possible reluctance to party. Draco was practically one of them anyway now and Farid thought that Draco would be fine with his victory, as he had encouraged Farid to develop his skills almost as much as Ron and Sirius Black had.

In the recent weeks since Farid had fought Voldemort, Draco had become more accepted by his fellow snakes and had slowly started to regain some of his former popularity; this time because of who he was himself and not because of any influence that his father might have had. However, Draco and Seamus were practically inseparable these days and Draco seemed to spend a lot more time in Gryffindor than Seamus did in Slytherin.

Farid wondered what had happened to keep the blonde boy away. As he was walking down the corridor that led to the entrance the Gryffindor tower, he suddenly remembered the map in his pocket. He stopped at a window seat and took it out. In his very best English he repeated the words that Sirius Black had taught him and carefully began to scan the map for Draco’s name.

Farid was proud that his reading had come on so much in recent weeks. The daily practices with Hermione for writing and spelling, and the nightly sessions with Master meant that he could read a lot of the names on the map now without much difficulty, especially since they were printed so clearly. He still struggled most with anything handwritten and Hermione had to translate anything that his Master wrote on the blackboard, as Farid was completely lost when it came to the scrawl Master produced. Farid knew he was not alone in struggling to read Master’s words; many of the younger years still had difficulties, which, considering some of the things that Master wrote on their essays, was probably just as well. Not that Farid would ever tell Master any of this; it would be far too disrespectful.

Draco did not seem to be anywhere as far as Farid could see. He searched the map reproductions of the library, the Slytherin dorms and the Great Hall. There were figures all over the map moving about. Master was in his study, Albus Greybeard in his office and Minerva McGonagall chatting to Sybil Trelawney in the transfiguration corridor. Farid was delighted when he managed to read the divination teacher’s name, as they were both long and difficult words as far as he was concerned. He stopped to imagine how unhappy Professor McGonagall would be at being stopped by Trelawney, since everyone knew how much the transfiguration teacher disliked her colleague.

There seemed to be no sign of Draco though, until finally Farid found his eyes drawn to the Quidditch changing rooms. In the middle of the Slytherin shower block there was a dot. It was not moving at all and it was labelled ‘Draco Malfoy.’

Farid did not stop to think or to call anyone else he simply disapparated. He had never been inside the Slytherin showers before so he headed for the Gryffindor changing rooms instead and rushed next door on foot.

The door was locked and there was no light and no sound coming from outside. A locked door and lack of illumination was no barrier to Farid, however. He simply turned the door handle and whispered, “Lumos,” under his breath. All the torches lit themselves immediately and Farid moved from the cloakroom to the shower block behind. Draco lay on the tiled floor in a crumpled heap. He was almost naked, clad only in his boxers and the small thermal vest that all of them wore for flying. The vest had ridden up his body exposing a stomach that was covered in bruises and welts. His mouth was swollen, his eye puffing up nicely and there was blood in his hair.

Farid crouched beside him and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. Draco flinched violently and then groaned.

“Draco, dyou vill be okay now. It is Farid. I vill take dyou to Madam Pomfrey. It okay if I touch dyou, jes?”

Draco looked up at him through swollen eyes. The shower room heating had gone off long ago and the boy was freezing cold and shivering. He nodded once tightly as if he was in a great deal of pain and Farid slipped off his robe and wrapped it around the frozen boy before helping him slowly to his feet.

Farid did not ask what had happened. In his opinion, that was fairly obvious. Someone had taken exception to the Slytherin defeat and had then taken out their frustration on Draco. It was quite a struggle to get Draco to a standing position. He was significantly taller than Farid and Farid found that he had to support Draco’s lankier frame by allowing him to drape himself over Farid. Draco’s legs were wobbling badly and the shivering had increased significantly. Farid suspected that Draco was going into shock. Farid knew well what could happen after a very severe beating; he had had plenty of experience himself in the past. Once he had Draco clasped firmly around the waist, he apparated them both to the hospital wing, hoping that Madam Pomfrey would be close by to offer help.

He had been there for nearly two hours now and Farid was feeling fairly frantic. He wanted to go to Master. He needed to go. He could feel Master’s fury pouring through the bond. Farid had promised that he would not be late and he just hoped that Master would understand why he had to stay with Draco until Seamus arrived. Farid couldn’t leave him. Draco had fallen asleep holding Farid’s hand and Farid had too often in his life been beaten like this, had felt helpless and weak, had been in pain. And never, until Master came at least, had anyone cared enough to comfort him. For Farid that had always been the worse bit, the aching loneliness afterwards when he had been shoved in a cage and left to heal. He could not abandon Draco.

Albus Greybeard was here, and Professor McGonagall, but not Master. Master was apparently dealing with a matter in the Slytherin dorms and not able to join them right now. The head of Gryffindor had left a few minutes earlier in order to fetch Seamus at last. She and Albus Greybeard had questioned Draco about what happened and, of course, it had taken some time to sooth his bruises and broken bones. Farid had held the blonde boy while he cried as Albus Greybeard tried to find out what had happened.

Draco had been attacked by a number of boys all wearing Ravenclaw robes and with Ravenclaw scarves wrapped around their heads to disguise their faces. Of course, no one had any doubt that the boys in question were Slytherin not Ravenclaw, but, as there was no proof, there was not a lot that Albus Greybeard could do.

Finally Seamus arrived, closely followed by Ron and Blaise. There was some argument then about who would be allowed to stay, but Draco, woken by the commotion, insisted that he wanted them all there and finally Pomfrey gave in. At last Farid felt it was safe to go and find his Master, so he gave Draco’s hand a final squeeze and set off for the dungeons.

He tried not to apparate in the castle if he could help it. Albus Greybeard insisted that it was usually impossible for anyone to apparate at Hogwarts because of the wards. Farid could do it but it was a huge draw on his magic and he was usually exhausted afterwards. Today he had apparated twice, once with a passenger, and he knew he would not manage a third attempt tonight without splinching himself so, if he wanted to get to his Master as quickly as he could, this time he had to go on foot.

Albus Greybeard had said that there was a situation in the Slytherin dorms that Master was having to deal with, which is why he had not yet come to see Draco, so that’s where Farid headed first.

Farid could feel his Master’s fury mounting and he had to suppress the tendrils of fear that were winding themselves around his stomach. Master was never angry with him. He had always been patient, even when Farid had been terrified that he would not be. But Farid had had a lot of punishment in his life, a lot of pain, and a few short months of belonging to a fair and caring man could not erase all the years that had gone before. So it was with some trepidation that Farid made his way to the Slytherin common room.

He knew the password, of course, because he belonged to the head of Slytherin and Master had always wanted Farid to be able to get to him if he was with his students. But as he whispered it and watched the portrait of Salazar swing open he could hear his master shouting and this time he had to steel himself to go in. He wondered if it would be better to wait in Master’s chambers. At least there, Master would have privacy to do whatever he wanted to do, but he was late enough already and did not want to make his Master crosser than he already was.

Master was in the middle of a huge argument when Farid entered. A number of the third and fourth years had had a massive row and had ended up hexing each other. Several of them were covered in spots, or sprouting tentacles, or wearing various body parts in the wrong place. Master was examining each of them and sorting out who would need to go to the infirmary and who he could sort out himself. He didn’t seem to be making much headway though as the argument still raged on and on.

Farid thought that it was quite a coincidence that the row had broken out today when Draco needed Master. He thought that Master would have investigated and worked out who was responsible for Draco’s beating. Albus Greybeard and Professor McGonagall simply did not know the Slytherins well enough to find the culprit, because Farid was convinced that no Ravenclaw was guilty of Draco’s injuries.

As he walked into the room the shouting halted and several of the children involved turned to look at him. Master turned to look at him too.

“Ahh, finally!” he sneered, “It’s the ‘Star of Gryffindor’! How kind of you to grace us mere mortals with your gilded presence.” Several of the Slytherins giggled and Farid flinched from the onslaught. Tears sprung to his eyes.

“Crying again, are we?” Master said, “Poor little slave. You do turn on the waterworks very easily, don’t you? Good at pulling my heartstrings, aren’t you? Playing the manipulation game?” Farid felt like Master was stripping him naked in front of all these children. He could feel his Master’s hurt, his feelings of rejection. Farid wanted to go to him, explain why he had been delayed. That he had not rejected Master that he had not preferred Sirius Black. But how could he say these things, air Master’s secrets in front of his students? There was no way that Farid could speak to comfort his Master right now so he kept silent, hoping that later he could tell Master what had happened and comfort him. So he hung his head and tried not to listen to the diatribe of scorn that was poured upon him. Master listed his limitations, his inadequacies, flaunted Farid’s weaknesses in front of these children and Farid just stood there and took it all, until Master obviously felt he had said enough and sent him away to await his punishment.

And Farid ran. He left the common room as quickly as he could to get away from all those staring eyes. He needed to hide, to be alone. Master had said it was a trial to have to teach him every thing, to have such a weight around his neck as Farid had turned out to be and it hurt. It hurt so much. Never had a beating felt so personal, so wounding. Finally Farid found himself beside a statue of Gwendolyn the Gormless in the second floor Muggle studies corridor. There was a niche in the wall behind the figure and Farid made himself as small as he could and crawled in to the gap between the plinth of the statue and the wall. He had been here several times in the past when things had all seemed too much and had found comfort in the cramped dark space. But tonight there was no comfort anywhere for Farid.

Master had never really been angry with him before. Farid had always tried to be good, because he didn’t want to be sent away. He knew that all he had ever wanted was to be loved, and he had truly thought that Master did love him. But the things that he had said tonight, in front of all those other children, maybe Master had had enough of him at last? Everyone did in the end, didn’t they? Everyone left him or gave him away. Farid wondered what was wrong with him that he caused people to turn on him sooner or later. Perhaps his parents would have hated him too if they lived?

When Master had looked at him tonight, his eyes, his body language had portrayed only contempt for Farid and Farid felt empty, sliced open, cut to pieces.

He sat in his hiding place for as long as he could, trying to hold himself together. He had to find Master and take his punishment, whatever that might be. Because, if Master rejected him too, if he turned away, Farid knew he truly would be broken beyond repair.

He wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and very slowly made his way to Master’s chambers. His feet felt like they had been encased in lead, his stomach was churning and all the time through the bond he could feel his Master’s cold, enduring anger.

“Oh hello, little slut, we’ve been waiting for you.” Farid stopped his progress and looked up to see Nott and several of his friends waiting for him, blocking the corridor ahead.
He was just outside the Slytherin common room again and the portrait was wide open he could see some of the children inside watching him.

Farid dropped his eyes to the floor again; he felt too weak to fight these boys tonight, too wounded. He knew that they were likely to be the ones responsible for Draco’s beating and he did not wish to be anywhere near them.

“Pleas let me pass,” he said “I moost go to my Masteerr.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” the one called Nott drawled. “You see, it is punishment time for little whores and fun time for us. Your Master was quite delighted when we sorted out the earlier debacle between our housemates. You, Slave, are our reward.” Farid was horrified. He started backing away from Nott and the others, mutely shaking his head. He was unable to speak, struck dumb with horror. He had known Master was angry, could still feel his anger. But surely Master would not choose this as a punishment, definitely not this? Farid thought he would rather be beaten within an inch of his life, than have to give himself to these boys with their leers and their grasping hands.

But Nott produced a parchment and Farid recognised his Master’s handwriting at once. “See for yourself if you don’t believe me. Oh of course, the poor little slave boy can’t read very well, can he? Well listen carefully and I’ll read it to you.

“Farid, I am most displeased with you. Of late you have been wilful and disobedient. It is time you were reminded of your place. You are mine to do with as I wish and, for tonight, I gift you to Theodore and his friends for their entertainment. Please them, and I may consider forgiving you sometime soon. Disobey again and I will gift you to them for a week.”

Farid did not know what to do. He could not believe that Master would give him away, but those were indeed the words that Master had used earlier, ‘wilful and disobedient.’

But, even as he continued to back away, Nott’s friends grabbed him and held his upper arms tightly. “Just one other thing, slut,” Nott was saying. “Your Master has written a word at the bottom of the parchment. He says it will help us enjoy ourselves more.” He leaned forward and whispered just one word in Farid’s ear. It was a word that Master had never used on Farid himself but it was one that he could not ignore. Farid’s cock immediately began to fill with blood and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The boys that surrounded him started to laugh.

“Look at him, the whore. He is such a little whore.”

“He is so fucking turned on.”

“Do you think he’ll do us all then?”

Something inside Farid shattered and he knew all at once that the parchment must be true. The word was part of his secret training; it and his other training words would have been given to Master when Master took over his ownership. Farid thought that there was no other way that these boys could have found out the terms used to train vampire slaves. Master must have told them.

Farid wished that he could die. Things were breaking inside him and he felt that he left little shards of his soul in his wake, like pieces of a broken mirror. But, he had to do as he was ordered. The bond would not allow him to disobey an order. Severus Snape was his Master and, for all this time, he had not shared him with anyone, so Farid had become complacent. He had thought this Master would never share him, but obviously he was wrong.

A shard of soul was left behind.

This Master was like everyone else in his life. He did not love Farid as Farid had thought, he saw him as an object, a possession. Farid had forgotten that was what he was these last few weeks; he had believed Master when Master had told him that he would have a choice, because for the first time in his life he had felt like someone cared about him.

Another shard broke away.

As if in a dream Farid followed the boys through the portrait hole and into the seventh year boys’ dormitory. He obediently drank the potion they gave him when ordered to do so, quite grateful for the fuzziness that settled over him as he swallowed the brew. He took off his clothes when told to and then knelt and opened his mouth as the boys who surrounded him laughed and whooped and giggled.

Farid’s soul broke into even more pieces and he thought that at last there was nothing left to save him from the deepest despair.