Tempus Fugit Praeterhãc

A/N - I have a bit more time tonight, so there are two chapters for you to read.

I would like to say thank you to all my lovely reviewers, the reason I don't always post on AFF is that I can't seem to reply individually to comments. I would also like to give the wonderful Jilliane, who is working her way through my old stories a special hug, some hot choccie and a nice massage. Hope you enjoy the next two chapters. *hugs to you all* ~ Lucie



Chapter 4 - in which Severus tries to make amends


Severus watched them eat and murmur quietly to each other for some while. He didn’t feel particularly hungry himself, he just wanted to get Harry all on his own so that they could talk at last.

But the boy was still engrossed with his friends.

“How are you feeling now, Hermia?” Harry said, solicitously. The girl leaned back on the pile of cushions.

“I still feel sick in the mornings,” Hermia replied, “and I get very tired, but Mater says it will pass soon, as it did before. In the meantime, Rufus has been really helpful.” She smiled up at the redheaded boy and he blushed to the very tips of his ears.

“Mater said that she and your Dominus went to see Thomas at the tavern last night. He made her an offer and it looks certain that they will marry.”

“Is she happy about that?” Harry sounded astonished.

“Of course! She has wanted to be involved in the tavern for ages. It means that Rufus and I can run the wine shop. It’ll give us more space when the baby comes.”

For a moment it was as if a shadow crossed Hermia’s heart-shaped face. “I would not like to lose another child.”

Harry reached over and took her hand. “My Dominus says that he will help you, Hermia. He is a very clever man. If your baby gets ill this time then he’ll be there to help make things better.”

Severus remembered saying that, he had said it one day to Modia, never thinking that the girl might wish to hear such reassurances as well. Harry must have overheard him.

Tears danced in the girl’s eyes and Rufus reached over and took her hand. “Modius would have been nearly two-years-old, if he had lived.”

Harry hugged her.

They stayed like that for a moment, these three children. Harry held Hermia closely and Rufus held her hand, and sorted of patted at her somewhat ineffectually, looking a little lost, and very young himself.

Eventually Hermia pushed them both away and sat back on her heels, looking around her at the lush growth.

“The courtyard is lovely, Harry,” the girl said, deftly changing the subject and refusing to meet his eyes. Harry smiled and proceeded to tell her about the way he had cleared the rubble and how he had found plants to fill it and how long it had taken him to rediscover the abandoned garden beneath the weeds.

The three young people sat talking for a short while longer and then Harry began to clear up the dishes.

“Please stay here for as long as you like,” Harry said as he stood up. “but I have to get back to work.”

Severus was astonished, the boy had earned a rest he had only stopped working for a very short time. What could he possibly have left to do? The shop and living quarters had been cleaned, he had made enough bread for the day, the evening meal was prepared, he had been to the market, and there were not likely to be any customers for another hour at least.

Fortunately he didn’t have long to wonder what Harry was about to get to work on because Hermia asked his question for him.

Harry lifted the tray of dirty dishes and smiled at his friend again.

“My Dominus told me to get his cauldrons clean,” Harry said. “They were really filthy. I scrubbed for hours last night, but then I had to soak them. I got some of them clean enough, but I am nowhere near finished yet. The shop will probably be busy again later so I have to do them now.”

Severus felt like someone had poured a bucket of ice water over him. Harry should be resting and spending time with his friends. He had seen how hard the boy had worked all day, but still he couldn’t rest. Not because he had left chores undone, or lounged around; no, he couldn’t take much deserved time for himself because he had to clean the cauldrons that Severus had deliberately, spitefully left for him to clean.

He wanted to call the boy back, tell him to stay and relax for a while longer, but Hermia and Rufus were still there and he could not give himself away, not while the others were here. A cold, hard lump of guilt had settled in Severus’ stomach. It had been growing all day, but now it solidified and grew colder.

What had he done to the boy? He had turned the Hero-of-the Wizarding-world into a house-elf.

“Your Dominus won’t mind,” Hermia told him firmly. “He must know how hard you work.”

Harry’s smile was sweetly sad and Severus steeled himself for Harry’s next words. The ones that revealed how poorly he was treated, how Severus would sneer at him, belittle him for his supposed laziness. But they never came, instead Harry told her that the cauldrons were important and that his Dominus needed them. Severus was struck by such loyalty; no one had ever protected him like that before. Not without wanting something in return.

“You love him don’t you, Harry?” Hermia whispered. Severus held his breath.

Harry nodded, just once, hardly perceptible if you were not looking for it, but there nevertheless.

“You are lucky, I think, she said softly, “to care so much for the man who owns you. Not all slaves are so lucky.

“I was just a little girl when my pater was freed,” she continued. “He was a clerk, for a senator, the one that Rufus’ brother now belongs to. My father was freed because he uncovered a fraud. Hermenicus was a generous Dominus and he freed me and my mater, too. But it was already too late for my brother. He had been sold. I haven’t seen him since, I don’t know what happened to him. But in my memory he looks a bit like you. I hope he is as happy as you are, Harry.” She gave him a gentle hug then and Harry, leaned into her, but he couldn’t hug her back as his arms were full of dirty dishes, “Just enjoy your rest, all right?” he told her firmly, his voice sounding a little thick with emotion and then he turned and walked back indoors.

Severus watched him go, heading back inside to do a job that he really shouldn’t have to be doing, and he couldn’t help but think that perhaps Harry wasn’t particularly lucky at all.


**********

As Severus watched the slim, retreating figure of the boy disappear from the warm afternoon sunshine to the gloom of the indoors, he could not quite believe what Hermia had said. He ran it over in his mind, examining it, like it was some sort of Potions problem. She thought Harry was happy? Severus had observed him all day and he could not see how anyone could possibly be happy in the circumstances that the boy had been living in. Stranger still, Harry thought that he loved Severus, was he totally deluded? He could not understand it at all.

Slowly, desperate to uncover the enigma that was Harry Potter, he followed the boy back into the building and through to the back room which served as a sort of scullery as well as Harry’s bedroom.

It seemed to Severus that the little room was very hot and stuffy. Severus’ lab had large windows with slatted shutters so that even in the hottest part of the day any breezes coming from outside would help cool the room. Severus usually worked late into the evening when it was cooler. His workshop had a padded bed in one corner on which he often dozed for an hour or so at this time of day. But in this part of the building, one of the few in the neighbourhood that was made of stone, the midday and afternoon heat built up quickly; it was stuffy and overpowering. Severus watched Harry remove his tunic, fold it and put it aside, presumably to both keep it clean and allow himself to be as cool as possible, Severus didn’t like to think of how many times the boy had done this before, in order to become so practiced at it.

Now he was simply dressed in his breechcloth, and Severus could see the firm, young muscles under the taut, tanned skin. Harry picked up one of the clean cauldrons and took it back outside to the well. When he returned he was staggering a little under the weight of the full vessel, but he managed to carry it through to the range and placed it in the fire to heat. He must be warming water to help him in his task, Severus thought. He watched, silently as Harry got down on his knees beside one of the grimy cauldrons. Then the boy poured some oil and some salt into a wooden bowl, placed a little on a cloth and started to scrub at the inside of one of the cauldrons.

Three of them were clean already. They gleamed dully in the dim light of the scullery but two more were still absolutely filthy and in desperate need of scrubbing.

Harry must have worked for hours already to clean as much as he had, especially with such a simple scouring agent. Severus had felt so gleeful when he had thought of the boy scrubbing away at them, but right at this moment he felt only a deep sense of shame. He could easily have made the boy a potion to clean the cauldrons, and what was more, he could have ensured that they had not become quite as dirty as they were in the first place. Better yet, he could simply have cleaned them himself and saved Harry having to do them at all.

“Oh Harry!” he whispered, too quietly he thought, for the boy to hear.

Once again he reached up to remove the cloak, ready to tell the young man to stop, and once again his action was interrupted by the entrance of Hermia.

“Harry! Rufus is asleep, the great lump!” This was said with deep affection, showing the lie to her words. “So I have come to give you a hand.”

“Hermia, you should be resting!”

Hermia gave him a pointed look. “So should you, but you aren’t. Now find me an apron, I am not stripping down to my smalls.”

Harry grinned broadly and it seemed like the sun had just come out and lit up the room. For a second he looked like the young boy that Severus remembered from Hogwarts; sometimes, when he had been with his friends or playing Quidditch, Harry’s face had brightened with this same expression. Severus hadn’t realised he had observed the young man that closely in the past, but he did know he hadn’t seen Harry smile like this in all the time they had been here. Even those times when he had smiled at Severus, it had rarely reached his eyes. They had never sparkled as they were doing right now.

Severus wanted to talk to the boy now more than ever, just how unhappy was he? This new revelation totally contradicted what he had intimated from the young man’s conversation with Hermia only moments before.

But Hermia did not seem to be planning to leave anytime soon. Instead, she was happily chattering away, making Harry laugh with a story about Marcus Iulius falling over a stray dog earlier that day.

Severus sank down in the corner of the small room completely covered by the cloak. Amazingly, under the circumstances of a very hot day and a very confined space, he did not feel too hot. Harry, on the other hand, scrubbing away with fervour, was obviously overheated. Severus could see a sheen of perspiration on the boy’s skin. Hermia, too, seemed hot, though she wasn’t working nearly as hard as Harry. Severus noted he was just pleasantly warm himself. Invisibility cloaks were rare in the magical world, and this one seemed rarer than most; Severus wondered, did it perhaps contain a cooling charm? This was something else that he would have to ask the boy about.

Though he wasn’t hot, he was warm. He was also tired, and as he sat there in the corner, supported by the wall, his eyes began to feel heavy. Not surprising since he hadn’t slept the night before, he had been too unsettled. The chatter of the two young people faded to a pleasant buzz in the background and, in the heat of the afternoon, Severus fell asleep.


***********


He was woken by the sound of voices. Male voices. This time instead of a pleasant murmur they were raised and aggressive.

“No! No! I won’t! Stop it!” It was Harry’s voice, he sounded panicked.

Severus pulled off the invisibility cloak and rushed through to the shop, where the voices seemed to be coming from.

“Do as you’re told slave. I want you to suck me off.”

It was Devis Iulius Nocens who had spoken. Harry was on his knees again only this time he was being held there by Marcus Iulius and one of Modia’s twins. The redheaded slave looked deeply uncomfortable with his task, but there was nothing that he could do. There was a bruise blooming on Harry’s cheek, his mouth was cut and his tunic was torn.

Harry had a defiant look on his face, he spoke from between clenched teeth. “My Dominus does not share me.”

“Your Dominus, obviously does not care about you.” Devis sneered. “Look at the rags he dresses you in, the way he works you. I am going to make him an offer for you but I want to try you first. Open your mouth.”

“If you touch me I’ll tell my Dominus. He will not sell me.”

“And did you ‘tell your Dominus’ about my last visit, boy? Because if you did, he did nothing about it. Not that your word counts for anything, you are merely a slave. I could fuck you here on the floor and you could do nothing about that either, and even if your Dominus pursued me through the courts and won, he would just get compensation for a damaged possession. You are nothing boy, you are property that’s all and you are far too arrogant for a slave. Now open up or Marcus will have to hit you again.”

Severus was appalled. Six or seven days ago Harry had come to his lab. He’d told Severus that Devis had been to see him and Severus had told the bothersome whelp to deal with it himself and to leave him in peace. He had been in the middle of a particularly interesting experiment when the boy had interrupted him. How could he have been so stupid? Harry couldn’t defend himself against this. A slave in Rome had no rights, Harry couldn’t fight back, a Patrician could have a slave killed for hitting back or striking him in any way. Harry had no choice to acquiesce with anything that Devis wanted.

The spoiled Patrician was wrong, Harry was far from being arrogant, anything but, as Severus now knew to his shame. Not many teenage boys could have done what Harry had done and passed as a slave in Ancient Rome. Severus doubted he could have done it at that age. Severus realised how little help he had given the boy. He should have seen what was happening to Potter, should have protected him before now.

“If your lacky and your slave do not unhand my Harry right now, I may have to break your arm.” Severus said, moving swiftly into the room.

Everyone turned to look at him.

Marcus had his hand in Harry’s hair, pulling the boy’s head back. Harry was trying to look at Severus also, but he couldn’t move his head, the flint seller held him too firmly.

“Let go of him NOW!” Severus hissed. Marcus moved away from Harry, his hands raised to show surrender.

Devis, smiled. “Hello,” the blond boy said, pleasantly. “You are Severus Hispanicus, I believe? Delighted to meet you. I want to make you an offer for your slave. I was just trying him out.”

“He is not for sale, Devis Iulius Nocens, not now, not ever, Severus answered, rudely ignoring the polite greeting.“Harry come here, please.” Harry looked at him, eyes wide, breathing hard and shaking violently. But he stood slowly and came over to where Severus was standing. The front of his tunic had been ripped away, exposing his left nipple and his bare torso.

“I’ll make you a good offer,” Devis Iulius said, far more coldly than before, the pleasant smile replaced by a petulant scowl. “It would not do to refuse me. My father is a very powerful man. He does not like to see his son displeased.”

Devis had an insufferably smug look on his face when he finished speaking and Severus itched to slap him.

This was the boy who was responsible for Rufus losing his tongue. He was a high born Patrician, used to having everything his own way. However, by trying to take his slave away and threatening Severus in the process, he was about to find his wishes thwarted, perhaps for the first time in his life.

“Harry is still not for sale. Not at any price, not to you, not to anyone, ever. I would thank you to leave now Devis Iulius Nocens, before I find myself forced to be truly rude to you.”

The blond boy blanched, seemingly furious.

“You have not heard the last of this, Spaniard!” he snarled, before turning to leave. Severus surreptitiously and wordlessly cast the Memoriam Reflectus spell at the boy’s back. He would not be threatened by a spoiled child such as this. However influential the boy thought himself to be, he was merely a Muggle after all and therefore defenceless against any spell Severus might wish to cast.

The door slammed behind the three men as Devis stormed out, roughly grabbing his own slave by the wrist as he left. The poor boy would suffer for his master’s defeat Severus thought sadly.

Severus turned his attention back to Harry. Finally they could talk, He needed get the boy some salve, clean him up a bit, and show him some much deserved sympathy. Then, finally, they would be able to talk about this and all the other things Severus needed to say. But he found Harry staring at him, eyes filled with undisguised horror.

“My cloak, Domine. You have my cloak. When did you get my cloak?”

Severus could have cursed himself. The blasted cloak was still lying over his left arm, of course Harry would recognise it instantly. How foolish he was sometimes!

“Do you have my rucksack too?” Harry’s voice sounded shaky, “does it still have my things in it?”

“I meant to give it to you,” Severus said contritely, “but I thought you might have used some of the items foolishly.”

The boy’s head snapped up and he glared at Severus. “They are my things. I am not completely stupid, you know! I know to be careful. There were times I could have used my wand. And…” his voice broke then. “Is…do you have my photograph album?”

Severus nodded.

The boy looked as devastated as he had that night that Severus had kicked him out of bed, the night that he had taken Harry’s virginity. His chin was quivering in the same way now, as if he were desperately trying to hold on to emotions that were threatening to overwhelm him.

Severus reached out.

“Harry.” He said softly.

“No! Don’t touch me! Please don’t touch me. And why are you calling me Harry? Don’t do that! You never call me Harry except when you are fucking me.”

The boy was backing away from Severus, his eyes had filled with tears. He swiped at them with the back of his hand.

“I don’t understand. Are you mocking me? Why else would you call me Harry?”The boy was desperately trying not to cry, but a great heart-wrenching sob was wrested from him anyway.

Severus wanted to hold him. No wonder he was in such a state – the boy had almost been raped. If Severus truly had been away for the day, there would have been nothing and nobody to prevent it happening. Severus should have given him the wands and the invisibility cloak, he should have trusted him. Harry had surely worked hard enough to earn that trust. The problem was that Severus had only just realised it himself.

“I did not mean to deprive you,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I merely forgot that I still had the rucksack.”

He held out the cloak to the boy. “This is yours, I should have given it to you long before now. I will fetch the album too, and the wands. Come with me.”

Harry took the cloak without coming any closer and then held it to his chest, like a talisman.

Severus turned towards his bedroom, trusting the boy to follow. But Harry didn’t enter Severus’ room, he hovered in the doorway instead, standing first on one leg and then on the other. He didn’t speak, he merely watched Severus retrieve his belongings whilst fat silent tears were streaming down his face. His cheek was colouring to a deep purple and his lip was swollen.

Severus picked up the bag. It was so battered, so shabby and yet it was all the boy had. He walked over to the doorway and gave Harry the rucksack that he should have returned months ago.

Harry flinched when Severus came close. The boy seemed completely destroyed, far more devastated than he had been by his treatment by Devis Iulius Nocens; he’d apparently accepted that as if he were used to it.

“Harry, I…”

“STOP IT!”Harry shouted. “Stop calling me Harry, as if you care about me, as if you like me. I know you don’t, you’ve told me often enough.

“Are you being nice because I nearly got fucked? Cos I got roughed up a bit? Well don’t be, I’m used to it. That’s the way you treat me after all. ‘on your knees boy, suck it down, that’s right, such a greedy little whore.’” Harry quoted his own cruel words back to him.“It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll survive. I always seem to bloody survive.”

Severus flinched. He had said such a thing to Harry, that and far worse. He had hurt him, too, more than once and more than just a bruise or two.
The boy sounded so bitter, so defeated and Severus would give anything to ease the despair that he heard in the boy’s voice.

“I trusted you,” Harry said. “I thought we were doing this together, getting through this together. I have been so fucking stupid, haven’t I?”

“Please come in, Harry,” Severus said softly. “We can talk this through.”

But Harry shook his head.

“Leave me alone. Please leave me alone. I really don’t want to talk to you right now, I know we have to live together and I really don’t want to say something that I’ll regret. And right this minute I am very close to saying some truly unforgivable things. I…erm…I don’t feel very well. I am going to lie down for a while.” The boy was backing away from him, he stumbled slightly and reached out to the wall to steady himself. His knees were bloody and bruises were blossoming on his arms. Harry had been badly battered in his encounter with Devis.

Severus wanted to follow him to hold him, make him better. But right now he wasn’t welcome. Harry had made that very clear, and Severus had taken so much from him already that he could not bring himself to over-ride the boy’s decision right then. Harry had acted very maturely, he wouldn’t have been able to keep his temper the way that Harry had if he had been treated the way he’d treated Harry.

It was only after Harry had left the room that Severus realised that the boy had spoken almost flawless Latin for the entire, fraught conversation.


***************


Hours later Severus still ached to go to the boy. Harry had retreated to the storeroom that he used as a bedroom when he wasn’t sleeping with Severus. The room didn’t have a door; Harry had strung a rough Hessian curtain across the gap. Severus’ heart lurched each time he saw it. It was such a pathetic, flimsy barrier, no real protection at all, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to cross it just yet. He’d spent the remainder of the afternoon doing Harry’s job in the shop. There was a constant stream of customers and each and every one of them asked after Harry.

By the twelfth hour of the day Severus felt even more respect for Harry than he had earlier. Being nice to people all day was something that Severus found traumatic. They had to sell potions in order to make enough money to live, but to actually have to be friendly to customers, to listen to them moan about their aches and pains! He didn’t know how Harry did it day after day. By the time Severus had served his last customer he was practically growling. He actually had to lean against the door to still his agitation when he locked up for the night.

Which was why he was so startled when somebody rapped at the rough hewn wood just after he had barred it shut.

It was Modia’s daughter, Virginia. Her eyes widened when she saw Severus and he was sure that the little girl gulped.

“Oh…um…erm…hello…er…Domine.” The child’s eyes were practically dilated with fear and if Severus had not been so worried about Harry he might have smirked at her reaction. It was almost like being at Hogwarts again, keeping the first years in their place.

“Fetch your mother, child,” Severus said gruffly without any preamble. He had no idea why the girl was here, but she would prove useful, he thought.

The girl gave a strangled squeak, turned and ran.

Severus slammed the door behind the rapidly retreating figure, leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He felt like the day had been interminable and it wasn’t over yet. He had no idea what he was going to do. There had been no sign of Harry since he had retreated to the room in which he slept. Severus couldn’t really call it his room, not after he had seen it, not after he had watched the boy wash filthy cauldrons in a corner of it or seen how few possessions the boy owned.

Severus didn’t have relationships, so he never had to work at them. This time, however, he knew he had wronged the boy, time after time and that he would have to make amends – but he had absolutely no clue how to go about it.

He saw again the wounded look in the boy’s eyes when he had first noticed his invisibility cloak. He heard the sad little voice quoting his own cruel words back to him and his stomach lurched. Merlin, what should he do?

Should he go and see the boy, say that he was sorry? Was that what people did? Severus had not apologised to anyone since he had been a boy himself, even younger than Harry was now. He had apologised to the boy’s mother for calling her a Mudblood and she had rejected him; would Harry do the same? Severus shook himself, there would be no more of that. Comparing the boy to his parents all the time was what had got him in this mess in the first place.

He made his way back to the storeroom and stood outside. The Hessian curtain was flimsy and insubstantial but it seemed like an insurmountable barrier to Severus right then. He took out his wand and cast a transparency spell. The curtain shimmered and disappeared from sight. If he reached out and touched it he would know that it was still there, but the transparency spell allowed him to see into the little room, at least it would once his eyes had adjusted to the gloom. This was the oldest part of the building and the building itself was one of the oldest in the alleyway, so Modia had told him anyway, not long after he had purchased the property. That was why it was so sprawling, why it had a well and a courtyard garden, why it was seemingly so desirable to Gaius Iulius Nocens.

Harry was curled in his cubby bed. Severus wanted to go closer, to touch him. But he didn’t dare. Harry’s eyes were closed, he had the photograph album and the cloak clutched tight to his chest and the bag stood beside him, unopened on the beaten earth floor. His cheeks were streaked with dirt and blood, he had been crying.

He looked so young, so tragically pathetic, but still Severus could not bring himself to enter. He did not think that he could bear to see the look of hurt and betrayal again in Harry’s eyes.

When Severus heard someone rap at the front door he practically ran to answer it. Woe betide whomever it was if they did not turn out to be Modia. He would hex them so hard that their teeth would rattle.

Severus was in luck though. It was his matronly friend.

“Severus? Love> What’s wrong?”

Modia’s sympathy almost undid him.

“Harry,” he rasped.

“What’s wrong with Harry?” Modia sounded alarmed. ”Is he ill? Hurt?”

Severus shook his head and then nodded, leaving Modia looking confused.

“He isn’t ill. But he is hurt.” He looked into Modia’s concerned brown eyes.“Devis Nocens was here with his thug, Marcus; they roughed Harry up a bit.”

Modia was indignant. “Not again!” she said. “You must speak to that boy, Severus. It isn’t decent the way he keeps after your Harry. Unless, of course…” she looked at him appraisingly, “unless you want to sell him to Devis Nocens?”

“No!” Severus shouted the word. “Harry’s mine! I won’t sell him to that arrogant boy.”

Severus was shocked yet again, what the Hell had Devis been doing to Harry if even Modia knew about the harassment? He was glad now that he had hexed the odious boy and more determined than ever to get to the bottom of the Potter enigma.

“That’s what I thought,”Modia said, satisfied.“That’s why you wouldn’t sell him to me either, because Devis could put pressure on me to sell, isn’t it? But Harry would be safe with me. Once I marry Thomas, I’ll no longer be obligated to the Nocens family. Harry would belong to Thomas. He was born a free man, he has no such obligations.”

“I will not sell Harry to anyone, not ever,” Severus growled. “I understand now why you think I might. I have seen with my own eyes how shabby Harry looks, how uncared for…but I didn’t notice before, I didn’t know. But now that I do, things will be better. Harry is mine and I will not let him go.”

Severus met Modia’s eyes as he spoke. He thought he saw a glimmer of approval in the brown depths.

He continued, “You were right about my poor treatment of Harry. I didn’t realise, I didn’t understand. But now I know and things will change. Devis, however obnoxious he might be, only hurt Harry physically. It was me who hurt him the most. I hurt him by my behaviour, by something I did that has emotionally devastated him. At the time I thought it was for the best, but I now know I was wrong. Anyway, he has retreated to his room; he won’t come out and he won’t speak to me.”

Modia looked totally confused. “Harry is your slave, Severus, of course he’ll come out if you tell him to. You should just wallop him if he refuses.”

Severus almost despaired. Only last night this woman had been berating him for his treatment of Harry, today she was advocating giving the boy a beating for disobedience. What on Earth was he going to tell her? This place was so strange in so many ways, so out of his experience, but his relationship with Harry was even stranger. He needed advice. However, he could not tell Modia the whole truth. Maybe a variation of it would be enough?

“ Sit, please, he said, pulling out one of the stools that had been in use by customers all day. Modia sat, her eyes expressed both confusion and curiosity.

“Severus, what is going on?”

“I need your help, Modia. I don’t know what to do.” Severus peered at the woman who had somehow become a friend in the last few months, who had accepted him, and been kind to him and, of course, to Harry.

“Harry is more than just a slave. He is also the son of my oldest friend and my worst enemy. I loved his mother more than life itself. She was everything to me, kind and loving and good.” Severus swallowed, his throat felt dry. Modia stood up and bustled over to the table that stood in the far corner of the shop. There were a variety of small amphora there and she poured him some watered wine.

Severus took the goblet that she gave him and swallowed deeply. He nodded his thanks and then continued. “We had known each other since childhood, she and I, but as we grew older, we grew apart. Then one day we had a row, a horrible argument. She wouldn’t forgive me, wouldn’t hear my apology, and our relationship ended.” Severus wondered if Modia could read the desolation in his troubled gaze, if she could tell how Severus’ world had come crashing down when Lily rejected him. It had been the end of his life, or so it had seemed at the time, as if all light and joy had deserted him, leaving no one to help Severus turn away from the Dark path, no one to care. “I didn’t stop loving her, though,” he whispered, finally. “She was the only family I had.

“Eventually she married Harry’s father. He was a boy I hated and he hated me. He had made my life a misery, he and his friends.” Severus sank down to sit on another stool as he spoke. He peered up at Modia, her eyes seemed to be glittering with tears and he couldn’t think why that might be. “Harry looks just like him, or I used to think so at least.

“They died when Harry was a baby – murdered, actually. Where we come from, Harry had people after him, especially a very evil man who wanted to hurt him. But I have always tried to keep him from harm – my way of keeping his mother alive, I suppose.

“When we came here I took him as my slave to keep him safe. I thought that I hated him, but I don’t, not anymore. I love him, Modia, and I hurt him. I kept things from him that belonged to his parents. I saw him only as his father’s son, a reminder of his mother. I have used him and treated him cruelly. But I was only seeing his father, not Harry, my sweet, loyal, loving Harry, not until today – and now I’m afraid it is too late.”

”Oh piffle!” Modia said huffily, getting to her feet.

“You care about him? Then go to him, tell him so, free him if you want to, but don’t sulk and brood. Life is too short and far too nasty for that. He obviously cares about you, anyone can see that. Buy him a few presents, tell him you are sorry and he’ll be back in your bed in no time, and if that doesn’t work a good spanking will set him right.”

Severus felt his jaw drop. “But what if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“What if he doesn’t? He hardly has a choice. He is a slave, Severus, and for all that he is the child of your lost love, he has no rights. You sound like a lovesick girl in some cheap market-place play, singing of romance. Not the sensible man I thought that you were. I thought he was dying or something from the way that you carried on, not that you had a row and he has gone off in a snit!

“Now, I had better go. I have to make dinner after all, as apparently Harry hasn’t done it.”

Severus shook himself. “Oh!…Harry did make a meal, I think,” Severus said, remembering the boy cooking earlier, “It was fish.”

He took a look around the shop, lifting lids, sniffing at contents, until over by the stove he found what looked like a terracotta casserole dish, filled with what seemed to be a fish stew. He handed it to Modia, “Here, take it. It just needs heating, I think.”

She smiled. “I should have known he wouldn’t let me down! I was dreading telling Rufus that there was nothing to fill the gaping maw that is his stomach! I think that I have come to rely far too much on that boy of yours.”

Modia took the casserole pot, then she stood on tip-toe to reach up and brush a strand of hair away from his cheek. “Thank you, and don’t fret yourself. Just go see him – beat him, fuck him, do whatever you need to – and make it better, Severus, for both of you. Settle it for once and all, and then get on with living. You have a good life here. You have your health and a good looking boy in your bed. You have plenty to eat, a good income and respect from your neighbours. It doesn’t get much better than that, love, you should enjoy it while you can.”

Severus sat at the table for a long time after she had gone. He still didn’t know what to do. Of course he had not been able to tell Modia the whole truth. How could he tell her that by the standards of his own time he might well be considered a monster for the way he had treated Harry, even if Harry had not been the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-world? Severus had been his teacher and, by the morals of his own time, he was the lowest of the low, practically a child molester, even though Harry was seventeen and of age. Yet here pederasty was accepted, encouraged even, Roman culture being so heavily based on classical Greek ideals in many ways.

He had justified his actions time and time again because what he had done with Harry was normal here. But watching the boy unable to defend himself had disturbed Severus. He had known how vulnerable Harry was in this world, it was truly one of the reasons that he had started the charade in the first place.

But whilst Harry had done his best, even submitting to Severus sexually when required, Severus had not played his part. He had not looked after Harry as he should have done, as Harry had deserved, and he didn’t know how to make it right again. Brave man that he was, he could not bring himself to enter a small stone room and face a boy that he felt he had wronged so badly.

“Domine?” Severus looked up with a start. It was Harry; he was standing somewhat shakily at the entrance to their quarters, looking battered and fragile. Severus thought that he must have washed because the tearstains were gone, though his eyes were still looked red and sore. The blood had gone, too, Harry’s knees were still scraped but they looked as if they had been cleaned out at least. He was wearing his other tunic, the one that Severus had transfigured all those months ago. This one didn’t have a tear in it.

He was so beautiful and Severus’ heart lurched. Here was his chance, an opportunity to make things right again, and he did not have to face the boy in that gloomy little room. Harry had come to Severus instead.

“I’d better start dinner,” the boy said, sheepishly, he seemed deeply uncomfortable in Severus’ company, it would have to be him who made things better, Severus thought. “I’m… er… sorry, I… erm… fell asleep.” Harry couldn’t meet his eyes, “It’ll be late, I’m afraid.”

Severus didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had just given away their dinner, instead he crossed the room in no more than three strides and wrapped his arms around Harry. He didn’t think about it, he didn’t speak, he just went to the boy and hugged him. Harry stiffened and started to say something.

But whatever he was going to say was lost because Severus leaned down and kissed him. He placed one hand behind the boy’s head and held it firmly, allowing him no escape, while wrapping the remaining arm around Harry’s waist, almost lifting him off his feet. Harry was not going to leave him again. At first the boy struggled, but Severus did not release him, he merely deepened his kiss, claiming those soft lips and plundering Harry’s sweet mouth.

Initially, Harry still tried to push him away, albeit a little weakly, then, as Severus’ kiss deepened, he simply appeared to melt against Severus and allowed the taller man his way.

When he groaned, Severus thought that he had won, maybe Harry would listen to him now, may be he would realise that Severus had never kissed anyone like this, never felt this way about anyone?

Severus had never done this before, not in all the time that they had been here, never really showed the boy any true affection, never made a declaration or showed him any love. How he regretted it now, how foolish he felt.

He had kissed the boy just about everywhere else but never on his lips, not like this. How ridiculous that they had never kissed! It had seemed too personal, too intimate, but right at this moment he didn’t want to stop, ever! Harry’s mouth was so soft, so yielding, his breath so sweet.

Harry gasped once more against Severus’ plundering mouth and struggled feebly again. Severus tasted the coppery, salty flavour of blood. Harry’s lip had been cut by Devis and his goon – of course, the boy would be sore! Severus reluctantly released his lips and, instead, moved on to his face, raining kisses on his nose, his uninjured cheek, and his eyelids.

“What…?” Harry began, but Severus shushed him. He placed a finger to Harry’s lips and then used his thumb to mop the blood that had started to ooze from the corner of that sweet mouth.

“I am so sorry,” Severus whispered against the soft cheek, the same cheek he had been kissing a moment before.

“I am sorry, Harry, for my part in your tragedy, sorry for keeping your things from you, sorry for not telling you the truth, for using you, for being cruel to you when you were a child, for not understanding you, for not seeing you, the real you.

“You are beautiful and precious and all that I could ever want. I want you, Harry, in my life and in my bed. You are my happiness, you are my treasure.”

As Severus spoke he punctuated his words with kisses, licked at the salt tears that were streaming down the boy’s face. Harry was sobbing, a heart breaking sound.

“Don’t,” he sobbed, bringing his hands up to try to push Severus away. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it. Please don’t, Domine.”

“But I do mean it, you foolish boy,” Severus said, his voice sounding grave and very serious. “I swear; I mean every single word of it, trust me, Harry .”

He held the boy away from him and cupped his cheeks firmly, forcing him to meet Severus’ gaze. “Do you forgive me?” he demanded. Severus voice was hoarse, but determined, Modia was right, he would not let the boy say no. He would not be denied again. He would continue to kiss and stroke Harry until he had no choice but to forgive him. However, Harry met his gaze unflinchingly, he nodded and Severus growled in triumph.

He swung the boy into his arms still raining firm kisses on the parts of Harry that weren’t cut or bruised, gentle kisses on the parts that were.

“I am going to take you to our room now and I am going to make love to you,” he promised in a tight voice. “I am going to make you forget your own name. I will make you scream my name as I keep you on edge, as I tease you and torment you for hours. You will beg for release but you will not find that release, not until I allow it, not until you swear that you are mine. Do you understand me, my Harry?”

Harry whimpered and Severus laughed, giddy with the happiness of the boy’s forgiveness. Severus was not a joyful man. Merlin knew, he had known little happiness in his life, but he was passionate and he felt things deeply. Modia had been right when she said that they were safe here, that no one could touch them. Severus was a very powerful wizard in a world that admired such things. He was respected, liked even, and he had this delicious boy to do with as he wished. They could be here for months, years even; there was no guarantee that they would ever get home. He would, of course try; he had to keep trying. Harry had a destiny that he was meant to fulfil. In the meantime, however, Severus was going to do something that he had never done before. He was going to enjoy every moment of his life, in this time at least and he was going to start with Harry.

He lowered the boy to his bed, gently and tenderly, removing the tattered tunic that the young man wore. Harry was bruised again, his ribs and shoulders blossoming with purple and red where he had been punched and kicked and held down to be violated.

Severus felt his anger rising at the sight, anger at himself. Harry hadn’t been raped, but only because Severus had been there to stop it. He would protect the boy better next time. He would erect wards and weave spells to protect Harry. This should not have happened, and Severus was determined it would never happen again. For a brief moment he felt a sharp stab of guilt alongside the anger, but as he met Harry’s eyes, he felt happiness bubbling up, drowning out the anger and guilt. Harry had miraculously forgiven him for everything. It was there in his eyes for Severus to read it, clear and strong and complete, even through the tears. And best of all, it would be there whenever Severus needed to see it.

“So beautiful!” he whispered. Harry shook his head, he hiccupped another sob and then winced with pain as the movement put pressure on his ribs.

“Not beautiful!” he said in a tight little voice. “Not good. Ugly, skinny, stupid, wicked, freakish.”

Harry was trembling violently, as if he were about to fall apart. He had held himself together so tightly and for so very long, but it seemed that Severus’ soft words were tearing down his defenses and leaving him exposed and vulnerable in a way that his harshness had never done. Severus had called him beautiful before, of course, but the word had been followed by whore or slut. He had never whispered sweetly to Harry like this, held him tenderly as if he really did love him. Harry seemed to be finding this new tenderness hard to understand and harder to accept.

As if through some newly formed connection with the boy, he suddenly seemed to understand what the boy was experiencing. With a feeling of dreadful certainty, Severus knew that no one had ever said such things to Harry, that no one had ever loved him or cared for him as he should have been loved and cared for.

This boy was not the spoiled prince that Severus had thought him to be; he was fragile, wounded, almost broken right now. As Severus held the young man in his arms he swore to himself that he would make Harry whole again. He would love him, honour him, treat him as the incredible treasure that he was. And somehow Severus knew that by doing this, by giving his love to Harry and accepting his in return, that he would find redemption and atonement for all the wrongs he has committed and never been able to find a way to right.

“You are beautiful, Harry,” Severus said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. As he Accioed some salve from his storeroom, to heal Harry’s bruises, he heard doors crashing open and something crash to the ground before the little terracotta pot smacked into his hand.

“My Harry!”

The boy closed his eyes tightly and shook his head.

“Worthless,” he whispered, “bad, so bad.”

“No!” Severus mashed his lips against Harry’s again, causing the boy to cry out with the pain. Only yesterday he would have agreed with the young man’s assessment of himself, but not any more. Harry had to see what Severus saw. How hard working he was, how good, how unbelievably sweet.

Severus had not felt so light, so happy since he had fallen for Lily, since Lily had been his friend. Harry had that same goodness in him, goodness that must come from his mother, goodness that drew Severus to him so fiercely and made others desire to be with him as well. He thought Harry had been so beloved in the Wizarding world because of his fame, but apparently that was not the case and had never really explained how he engendered such love, such admiration. Harry’s special brand of ‘people magic’ worked here too. People wanted to be near Harry because he brought with him a lightness of spirit, an innate joy that seemed to burn brightly and gave people hope for happiness in their own lives.

Severus had never thought he could feel like so alive again. He had been dead inside for so very long. But thanks to Harry he did. He felt an overwhelming sense of happiness, now that he finally allowed himself to feel. He had fallen in love with this boy and he would not allow such criticism, not even from Harry himself.

“Do not speak!” he hissed against the hot sweet flesh of Harry’s cheek, against the scolding tears. “I will not hear such things about you. They are lies, untruths and you will not speak them!”

The boy’s green eyes widened, as expressive as ever. “But…”

“Not a word Mr Potter, or I will whip you until you bleed!”

The boy shivered, but his lips curved into a half smile and he chuckled slightly, perhaps more comfortable still with harsh words from Severus. He gave in to Severus kisses, did not argue with the sweet and tender words that Severus used or fight against the salve that Severus laved upon his bruises. He trembled and he whimpered, but he did not speak again and his eyes remained dry.

And finally, when those eyes became heavy with exhaustion and his breathing grew even, Severus held him in his arms as tenderly as a lover should. He watched over the boy as he slept and promised the slumbering young man that things would be different from now on. That he, Severus Snape, would look after him. Harry slept on, his breathing deep and steady and his fist curled tightly in Severus’ tunic as if holding on to life itself.


**********