Bonds of Affection

When Harry finally made it back to his dormitory, he collapsed on the bed, cast a silencing spell around himself, and sobbed uncontrollably. His dorm-mates did not wake, even as he cried into the pillow, until his throat was hoarse and until his eyes could no longer withstand being open, even for a second.



He had just turned himself over to someone who despised him utterly and completely; who would never forgive him for the sins of his father, who would never think of him as anything more than a coward, and an idiot. His only consolation was that it would not last very long – as Voldemort\'s Horcrux, he would have to die, probably sooner, rather than later...



He stuffed his face into the pillow, bit it, and drifted off into darkness.



The morning greeted him with Ron shaking his shoulder. Harry released the spell, and sat up in the bed. Ron surveyed his face thoughtfully.



“Nightmares?” he asked.



“Don\'t I wish,” Harry spat.



“What?” Ron demanded. “You\'ve got to tell me.”



“Maybe later,” Harry muttered, and leaned from the bed, searching from his clothing.



“Now,” Ron insisted.



“Okay,” Harry muttered. “But not a word to anyone else. Not George and Fred, not your mom, and not anybody. Hermione knows, and she\'s the only one.”



He told him about the events of the last week, in great detail, and Ron stared at him incredulously, with his mouth wide open. When Harry finally finished the story, Ron\'s mouth still continued to maintain a perfectly circular shape.



“You look like a goddamn man-whore about to give a blow -job,” Harry growled at him. “Shut your mouth already.”



Ron complied instantly and scratched his head. “Harry – I don\'t really know what to say,” he said weakly. “Please tell me this is a belated April Fool...”



“Yeah, from Voldemort,” Harry said dryly. “Ron, just do me a favor? Don\'t tell me what an idiot I am, and how I should have done something else. I\'m already feeling like I\'ve been turned inside out, okay? If you can\'t handle this... just let me go, ok?”



Ron nodded quietly. “I won\'t let you go,” he said. “I\'ll ask around about the Wailing Willow Bark, too... maybe my dad heard something.”



Harry smiled a little. “Thanks, mate.”



They met up with Hermione in the dining hall for breakfast. Most of the students had gone away for the summer already, and there were just the three of them, sitting down at a large table together. Harry picked at his food absently, smearing egg yolk over the plate into exotic shapes. Hermione watched him with distant fascination.



“I have something for you,” she said reluctantly. “Though I don\'t know if this will make things better, or worse...”



Harry gazed at her in despair. “How could it possibly get any worse?”



She pulled out an enormous volume out of her backpack and slammed it onto the dining table. Harry pulled it towards himself and shuddered at the title - “On the Imperceptible and Irreversible Bonding of Slave to Master.”



“Oh,” he said with a sigh. “Thanks, I guess.”



She shrugged apologetically. “Just in case you decide you want to know what to expect...”



He grabbed the book from her. “When do you need it back?”



“I don\'t,” she said softly. “I won it in a game of chess.”



“From?” Harry asked. “Do I even dare to ask?”



“Malfoy,” she whispered. “I have no idea where he got it, but... I wasn\'t about to question my good luck.”



“Thanks,” Harry muttered again. “I guess I\'ll go read.”



For the next few hours, he sat outside, his back leaning against a tree-trunk, paging through the book. Every page filled him with dread. If the bond was supposed to make him want any of this, it was failing rather miserably, he thought.



He would need structure, clear orders, guidance, control. He would require regular discipline. Corporal punishment. He would require being near his Master, in the same household. Eventually, he would require physical touch – sexual touch from his Master. Harry just shuddered with humiliation at the prospect of begging for physical touch from someone who had absolutely no attraction for him.



And just when his despair was about to become complete, he saw a shadow of a person standing behind him. He shut the book hastily and stuffed it into his shoulder-bag.



“Mr. Potter,” Minerva McGonagall\'s voice said coldly. “The Headmaster will see you in his office immediately.”



“Sure,” he said with a sigh.



In the office of Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape was already seated at the desk. His face was an impassive mask, as always. Harry stood in sullen silence, until Dumbledore offered for him to sit down.

Harry sat in one of the large, cushioned chairs and looked at the Headmaster.



“I understand that there has been a... disappearance of a certain substance from my office,” Dumbledore said quietly.



“Really,” Harry said evenly. “How very unfortunate.”



“Indeed,” Dumbledore said gravely. “Just what do you think you intend to do?”



“I thought it was blindingly obvious, Albus,” Severus Snape said coldly. “We intend to establish a loving, passionate Master/slave relationship and live happily ever after.”



Harry couldn\'t help but snicker, but Snape\'s glare cut him off instantly.



“I understand that with Harry\'s new status as legal adult, I cannot legally stop you from... embarking on this adventure,” Dumbledore said quietly. “However, you must know, that I am very disappointed in you both. Especially you, Severus.”



Harry felt his heart clench inside him. Disappointed... he had never heard Dumbledore use that word towards him before.



“Albus,” Snape spoke evenly and unemotionally. “At this point, to be blunt, I don\'t give a fuck about your disappointment. You want your spy, you have him. You want your golden boy, you have him too. Don\'t sit there and pretend that this is the end of the world for you personally, or for the Order of Phoenix.”



“Language, Severus,” Dumbledore said absently. “Leave. I need to speak with Harry alone.”



Snape nodded curtly and left.



Harry stared at Dumbledore defiantly.



“Why would you do such a thing to yourself?” Dumbledore asked kindly.



Harry shrugged. “Seemed like a good idea at the time. Still does, to be honest. Professor Snape isn\'t the most evil person in the world... and for as long as I\'m with him, under these terms, Voldemort won\'t be trying to murder me. It will give me some time to ... search for other Horcruxes, and figure out a way to kill him. And then... eventually, I\'ll have to die anyways – so ...”



Dumbledore\'s face was completely expressionless.



“Tell me something, Harry,” Dumbledore asked finally. “How do you feel about what you are doing on a personal level?”



“Good,” Harry lied confidently. “I mean, it\'s a bit odd – but I don\'t see it as something ... unpleasant.”



Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. “If I can offer you a word of advice, Harry... this type of bond will take time to develop. Don\'t rush things – let the relationship unfold naturally. I think it will be easier that way.”



“Of course, Sir,” Harry said agreeably. He did not bother to say that there would be no relationship. And naturally, he had no intention of rushing the enslavement. Not at all.



“If you find yourself abused, or mistreated, I expect to hear immediately,” Dumbledore continued sternly. “Finally, if you find yourself thinking that you have made a mistake, I need to hear at once. Am I quite clear on that, Harry?”



Harry nodded sullenly. As if any of it would matter, he thought bitterly. He was certain that the bond, once established, would not let him leave – even if he were utterly miserable.



“Harry, I mean it,” Dumbledore said severely. “There is no joking around. Should I die unexpectedly, you will report to Minerva McGonagall in the same manner. Understood?”



“Yes,” Harry said tiredly. “Will there be anything else?”



“Not at this time. Good night, Harry.”



When Harry walked out of Dumbledore\'s office, Snape was already gone, and Harry felt, to his own shock, a faint twinge of disappointment. He allowed himself an amused smirk, when he remembered Snape\'s language around Dumbledore. For some reason, it was... oddly and dysfunctionally satisfying, having heard him say something like that.



When he returned to his dorm room, Harry grit his teeth and started packing. He did not have too many belongings – for the most part, just books and clothes. He sorted through his possessions, and ruthlessly discarded anything he did not need. None of that would matter for much longer, anyways. For the remainder of his life, however brief it might be, he intended to travel light.