FOR SERVICES RENDERED

Thirty-Eight

Farid sat for what seemed like hours, thinking.

Tariq was curled on his lap, full of milk and free of worry.

Farid envied the little thing for its innocence.

For the last few days, he had felt frozen, numb. The combination of the rape and the effects of the potion had, he knew, almost destroyed him. But the very worst thing, of all, was the way Master had treated him. Master was the first person that Farid had ever loved, ever trusted. When Master had said those awful things to him, Farid had felt torn apart. When he had thought that his Master wanted him to entertain Nott, Colburn and Johnson, he had wanted to die. Then Master had hit him and called him names and sent him away when he had been hurting and frightened, and a part of Farid had died then and that bit was never coming back, it was lost forever. The unquestioning trust that he had once had for his Master, that was broken beyond repair, he knew.

But he could see that Master was sorry, feel it though the bond. The feelings were strangely muted though, and, for a moment, Farid wondered if the bond were changing yet again. It was not that they did not exist, or that they were not strong any longer, because he could tell that Master did feel them strongly, but those feelings were not overwhelming Farid. Which just left him his own feelings to deal with and weren’t they hard enough?

Tariq mewled in his sleep and nuzzled into Farid. He had never had a pet before, never had a creature that he could look after and love and his heart clenched with affection. He had been astonished when Master had said that it was all right to keep the little scrap, but he should not have been, should he? Because Master had never denied him anything and now he had given Farid so much more; he had a kitten, a small life that was his to care for and, of course, this precious scroll with all the promises that it held. He looked at the parchment that he held tight in his fist. He had yet to put it in the box that Master had given him to keep his special things in from now on and he did not quite know what to think.

Master said he had rights, that he could choose whether to have sex or not, whether he had to do things that he might not wish to do. Of course Master had said some of these things before, but he had never written them down before, like he meant them, like they were true. He could also use his own money to buy things from his vault where his parent’s money was kept; the key was in his possession, in his box from now on. He hadn’t known that he had money and he didn’t know what he would do with it, but it was his, to spend or ignore. Master had said so, Master had said such a lot tonight hadn’t he?

When Master had told him that he could choose whether to have sex, whether to obey suggestions that Master made, such as going to bed, Farid could not quite believe him. So he had tested his Master’s promise by staying here by himself and not going through with Master, as he knew Master wanted him too. He had denied the comfort he knew he would get from snuggling against Master and chosen to sit here instead, in front of the dying fire. It was just a pile of glowing embers and ashes now, so long had he sat deep in thought. It had gotten cold and Farid shivered.

He had had to test Master’s words, he had to know that he meant what he said, and he had to decide whether or not to forgive and move on. Farid knew that really, the only way he could possibly survive this, was to forgive Master. Because none of it had really been his Master’s fault, and goodness knew he had tried his hardest to make things right again, hadn’t he?

Farid knew how powerful the bond was, and he also knew how hard Master had fought against it, struggled to overcome it. Master had rescued Farid, protected him, defended him, loved him and nobody else had ever cared for him like that before. And when he thought about it, really thought about it, he didn’t want to lose that love. Master was a man after all, like any other, and he had made a mistake, one that he obviously sincerely regretted, one for which he had tried to show his repentance.

Horrible things had happened to Farid in his life and sometimes, sometimes he felt so overwhelmed by it all, that he thought he would break into a thousand pieces. That he was nothing more right now than shards, than fragments of the person that he should have been. The rape had brought back so many things that he had hoped to forget. He saw them in his dreams, in his nightmares. He had stupidly felt safe here at Hogwarts. He had thought in the last few weeks that he could be normal, that what he had been, his past, would not matter anymore. Because his friends had accepted him and not judged him and Master had loved him and not cared about what he had had to do, either.

But Nott and his friends had not acted like Farid was normal, had they? They had thought that it was okay to treat Farid like a whore and fuck him without thought or consideration for his feelings or pain. But he was not a whore, they were wrong, Master had been wrong, when he had said that too, perhaps Master was right, perhaps it had been the alcohol talking? What had happened to him should never have happened; his childhood had been stolen and he had been repeatedly abused and he had never done anything to deserve it. He had been a child. Younger than the little first years that wandered the halls and looked at him with big eyes and wonderment. Someone should have protected him, made him safe.

He could not undo the past, that was impossible, but he could live with it, try to put it behind him and embrace the good things that he now had in his life.

So he thought to himself; he had a choice: He could let himself fall into the abyss that had opened before him, down into darkness that would steal what was left of his shattered soul, he could let what had happened a few days ago destroy him, or, he could move forward with his friends and with the man he loved, the man who Farid knew, deserved his forgiveness.

He had fought all his life to survive. He had never given in, even his bleakest moments when he was close to despair. So why should he give in to the darkness now, when he had so much more joy in his life than he had ever had before? There would always be people like Nott, wouldn’t there? People who preyed on the weakness of others, but Master had now given him the means to fight them and he would never let such monsters hurt him, or anyone he loved ever again.

He had been very touched by the outpouring of love and friendship that had come his way. The little kitten that had come into his life with a card that read, “So you don’t ever feel lonely again, Farid, with love from Hermione.” attached to the basket in which he’d arrived. The hugs he gotten from Ron and Draco, and the effort that Sirius Black, whom Farid knew would never understand him, had put into cheering him up. The care that he had been constantly showered with, from nearly everyone, all these people wishing him happiness and offering their love. He, who had always been worth so very little, had somehow attracted so many wonderful people as protectors and friends.

But what moved him, astonished him most of all, was the sheer effort that Master had put into what seemed like a sincere attempt to make amends, indeed, to make things better than they had been before. To offer as much freedom as was possible within the restrictions of the bond, the man, whom Farid loved, and who obviously regretted his actions more than anything, was obviously sorry and whom Farid knew he had to forgive.

He stood and moved over to the wicker basket that Tariq had arrived in and made it a little bigger with a wave of his hand. He transformed the little cushion so that it was softer and fluffier and, popping the sleeping creature inside, he cast a warming charm.

He was whispering to the small animal as he worked, muttering words of affection in Kazakh, telling him that he was safe and loved but too small to be left out of his basket on his own just yet. Words that no-one had whispered to him when he was small and lost and alone. The kitten didn’t wake, but it did snuggle into the soft bedding with a long satisfied purr, instinctively knowing it was safe.

He went and placed the precious scroll in the box, but he did not lock it because he knew his master would not take it or damage anything in it. He ran a finger over the carvings of Griffins and snakes and he slowly got to his feet.

He knew that Severus Snape loved him, more than anyone else had ever done. He could feel it, see it and he didn’t want to turn away from that love. He also knew that the man lying in their bed was almost as needy as the little creature that he had just tucked into its basket for the night. He needed Farid as much as Farid needed him and, realising that to be the case, Farid knew that he could deny him no longer. Somehow, together, they would carry on. Because at least they had each other and they had the love of their friends and, for now at least, Farid thought, that was more than enough.

Then he stood and squared his shoulders and made his way to the bedroom that he had shared with his Master almost every night since he had arrived at the castle.


Severus was lying in bed, listening to Farid’s movements with every particle of his being. He had thought hard about what to do, tried everything he could think of, to make things better between them. But trust was such a fragile thing; it took a long time to build and yet could be destroyed in the blink of an eye. Tonight had, perhaps, been the first step of many; it might take many months for Farid to accept him again, to forgive him. But Severus had never been a quitter and he was not planning on giving up on his relationship; the best, most loving relationship that he had ever had, not any time soon at least.

Farid had forgiven him that time when they were back with Yusuf, when Severus had watched him beaten and then brutalised him. He had forgiven him the original rapes, which were in themselves brutal and violent, even if, because of the effects of the potion, they were not entirely Severus’ fault. But there was no excuse in Severus’ mind for recent events, no defence that he could make and he had no right to expect Farid to forgive him.

Of course, Farid had remained the dutiful, well-trained slave; he had refused Severus nothing, but Severus missed the look of love that would shine from the boy’s eyes and, despite all he had done to try to make things right, make things better for Farid, he had no expectation that the boy would ever forgive him. The earlier surge of confidence that Severus had felt with Farid’s tiny smile had long since evaporated.

But Farid was quietly moving around the room, getting ready for bed, undressing slowly, preparing for sleep. Leaving him in the sitting room, sitting by the fire whilst he took himself to bed was one of the hardest things that Severus had ever had to do. Farid had looked so lost, so brittle. But it was what the boy had asked, the first conscious choice that he had made since Severus had given him the parchment and Severus well knew that it was a test. As he lay there listening to the quiet rustlings and the whispered movements, Severus prayed to every god that he could think of that he might have passed.

“Masteerr?” The voice was shy, tentative. “Are dyou awake?”

“Yes, love,” he answered, with equal tentativeness. “I am.”

“Masteerr,” the boy said, pressing his cold naked body against Severus’ own, and laying a hand on his chest. “If you are not too tired, Masteer, if it is not too late, vould dyou make love to me? Pleas?”

Severus was torn between sobbing and laughing out loud.

He settled for a sort of strangled squeak.

“Oh, Farid,” he said quietly, respectfully, “nothing would make me happier than making love to you right now.”

And he leaned over as Farid moved against him and claimed the boy’s lips in a deep and loving kiss.

He felt the silky ghosting of Farid’s eyelashes close against his cheek, as the boy moved very slightly away and, so quietly that he almost didn’t hear it, Farid whispered.

“Sank dyou Masteerr, sank dyou for everything.”

Then in the half-light of the cosy room, Severus made good his apology in kisses and licks and caresses. And in the semi-darkness Farid expressed his forgiveness, his acceptance of his Master’s apology and his thanks for what Severus had done with answering kisses and caresses echoing Severus’ movements with gestures and endearments of his own. And their lovemaking that night was deeply moving for them both in its intensity, and almost poetic in its tenderness.