How Severus Spends His Summer Hols

DISCLAIMER: JKR owns everything that is in reference to the Harry Potter world if it is in one of my works of fiction. If it is not found in one of her creations, then it is mine unless otherwise stated. I am not making any profit from the writing of this story.

A/N~~~ Okay, I think that by now you as readers know that when I give a warning, there tends to be good reason. Well there is damn good reason for this chapter. It is going to be very raw in places and touch on Harry’s treatment while with Morgan. It is also going to get the ball rolling toward his meeting with Severus. There really is not going to be a fluffy layer in this chapter, so for anyone that is squeamish, you may wish to simply skip it.

To the few that feel my story either does not move fast enough, have enough spice, or is just weird. I invite you simply to go away. I will not change my style to pander to you. I read ‘not fast enough and not enough spice’ as Harry and Severus are not boinking like bunnies in every chapter. It isn’t going to happen in my story and I am not going to apologize for it. If that is what you seek, look for three little letters in the summaries….pwp.

To everyone else, thank you for joining me in my world. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have and that you will continue to do so. Now on with the angst.

Early the next morning Severus woke up to the sound of his mobile going off noisily. Picking it up he saw he had a text message coming in. Squinting at the alarm clock by the bed, he could just make out that it was four in the morning. Oh this had better be damned good, he thought. Pushing the right buttons to retrieve the message, he scanned it, stunned. “Gift located, will be delivered upon order, L”

Severus slid out of the bed he shared with Harry and quietly made his way downstairs to the kitchen to call Lucius back. He didn’t want to run the risk of waking Harry up by having him over hear any part of the conversation he was about to have.

Turning the light on over the stove and sitting down at the now infamous breakfast table, Severus quickly punched in the number from memory and waited until he heard the familiar haughty voice.

“Luc, it is Severus. You have him?” he asked quietly. One eye on the doorway, wary of waking up anyone else in the house, he knew both Grant and Damon were early risers.

“But you know where he is?”

“Did you find him?” he paused a moment, looking out the window at the creeping light of dawn. “Draco did? He wasn’t hurt, was he?”

“Good.”

Severus pulled a pad of paper and one of Grant’s ink pens to him and began to doodle as he listened to Lucius on the other end of the line. The pen in his hand stilled as his brow furrowed.

“You obliviated your son?”

“He’s never told me a thing Luc. Tells me that what is past should stay in the past,” Severus sighed as he began to slowly doodle again. The fact his childhood friend had had to alter his child’s memory after he’d found Harry’s former home gave him pause. Just exactly what had his husband lived through that he didn’t know about?

“You did keep it in your Pensieve then? Thank you. Yes, I will want to see it when you bring the bastard here,” he said grimly. Looking down at his arm, he remembered his restrictions.

“Luc, I’ve had to ask for asylum here.”

“Yes, I have one of the bracelets. No, you and Draco won’t be a problem. Just no magic that can trigger the sensors can be used around it. So this is going to need to be muggle style. Are you up to it?”

Severus listened for a moment more, rolled his eyes and chuckled darkly.

“Yes Luc, you are going to get your hands dirty.”

“I’ll be in touch. I think we have a house bought. I need to check today. It would be perfect though, no one within miles to hear anything.”

“Soon I think Luc; I want this beast put down. Thank you again,” Severus hung the phone up and sat staring out the window until the sun rose in the east. His Harry would finally be vindicated and he would be the one wielding the sword. Yes, life was good.

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Lucius Malfoy hung the phone up and sat back in his leather chair and simply gazed at the swirling mists of the Pensieve sitting innocuously on his desk in front of him. Within those misty tendrils were the memories of his son Draco from earlier in the day. The elder Malfoy poked at the memories with the tip of his wand, watching as the mists grabbed and tried to cling to the shaft in an almost sensual manner. He thought back to how agitated Draco had been when he’d burst through the door early the afternoon before, his normal pale face almost ashen from the discovery he’d made.

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Draco Malfoy kept to the shadows of the buildings that lined the West London street as he waited for Morgan Taylor to leave his townhouse. That morning had been quite productive so far for the silver blond wizard. So far he’d located not only where Taylor made his residence, but his place of employment and hours.

Lucius Malfoy had made it clear to his son not to confront the scoundrel yet, that was to be Severus Snape’s pleasure upon their delivery of the scum. All Draco had to do was to ascertain exactly where he was and establish his routine without fault. Smirking, he was in good spirits to find he was going to be able to report that task done.

Pulling out his mobile, he placed a call to his father and received further instructions to try to find some incriminating bits of information on Morgan Taylor to do with the time he had spent with Severus’ new husband. Hanging up and pocketing the small piece, the blond once more found himself wondering just why his godfather had bothered with Potter.

At the sound of a door being shut close by, Malfoy looked up to find Morgan Taylor passing right by him; unconsciously the young wizard felt the flesh on his body crawl in revulsion. After waiting almost twenty minutes to be sure he wasn’t coming back, Draco cast a quick notice me not charm and swiftly drew his wand to gain entrance to the abode. Stepping inside quickly, he set a few wards to warn him if the owner were to return prematurely.

Looking around himself, he began to poke into this desk and that cupboard, just looking to see what sort of fellow they were dealing with. When he found the lampshade obviously covered in human skin, he knew he was in the home of a truly twisted individual and wondered what other horrors he did not want to find.

Standing in the middle of the front room, he drew his wand and instructed it to lead him to where anything connected to Harry Potter might be found. Following the wand to a locked door, he swiftly opened it and flipped the light switch he found to see a set of wooden steps leading down to a dirt floor cellar. Taking a deep breath, he found the courage to descend them cautiously. Somehow he really didn’t want to know what he was going to find.

His wand vibrated stronger the further he descended the rickety steps, at one point it nearly leapt from his fingertips and then nearly stopped moving at all as he stepped down and away from the area. Draco turned back to face the steps and the wand began to tingle again, he walked around to where the darkness hid the space under the stairs. At that point his wand simply jumped out of his hand and clattered to the floor to stand upright. Here was where Harry Potter had been kept.

Draco whispered a quick incantation and the area was instantly bathed in bright light. Looking around he saw what he at first assumed to be where an animal of some sort had been kept. A shallow wallow had been worn in the packed earth as a dog might if one were tethered in a confined area for an extended time. The depression had what looked to be a dirty and stiff scrap of blanket lining it. There was no other bedding to be found. He saw a heavy, chipped ceramic pet dish lying just under the bottom step. The word ‘SLUT’ scrawled in black felt tip across the side. A dented metal pan was sitting beside it.

Draco drew his breath in sharply; suddenly it was hard to breathe in this small space. That wasn’t a scrap of blanket there in the dirt; it was Potter’s Gryffindor Quidditch robe. His eyes moved over the brownish stains on the walls, he had a damned good idea what had caused them. There was a thick rusty chain, maybe a meter and a half long lying on the ground with one end bolted to the wall, the other ending in a broken clasp.

Something caught the blond’s eye and he squatted down on his haunches to look closer. Holding his wand near to the wall he could make out where someone had gouged out scratches in the stones, looking up under the stairs, he could see the same marks in the wood. Shuddering, he turned to straighten up and saw something else. Words, crude lettering it looked to be, written in the same brownish stains on the underside of one step, tilting the wand so he could see, he read.

“my name is harry”

Almost jumping back in horror, Draco dropped his wand. Cursing, he squatted down to find it, only to curse more as he realized it had rolled somewhere amidst the makeshift nest Harry had made of his robes. As his fingers scrabbled through the dirty, stiff cloth, they brushed against something that was not his wand. He jerked his hand back and stood up.

“Sod this,” he muttered and stepped back, grabbed the edge of the robe and gave it a hard yank. With an almost sucking sound, he pulled it from the dirt and dragged toward him to reveal his wand and a few other items.

“What the bloody hell is this?” he said softly as he squatted back down and picked up his wand. “Lumos.”

He held the wand over the items so he could get a look at what Potter had hidden and felt an unseen boot kick him in the gut. A broken pair of wire rimmed spectacles. An old leather bound photo album. A dented snitch that was missing a wing. Harry’s treasures. Draco didn’t want to imagine Potter lying here in his filthy nest, running trembling fingers over each item as he tried to sooth whatever horror had happened to him.

Draco picked up the album and tucked it into his jacket, the rest he didn’t think Potter would want. Turning, he moved deeper into the underground room. The urge to simply flee up the stairs and back to Malfoy Manor was overwhelming, but his father wanted damning evidence and he wasn’t sure if this was enough yet.

Holding his wand out ahead of him, he found an overhead pull chain for a light and gave it a yank, instantly flooding the cellar in harsh light. Blinking for a moment, his eyes slowly focused on what could only be described as a scene from someone’s nightmare. The stone walls were spattered in the same brownish stains. There were iron rings bolted into the walls at various intervals, some with chains and some without.

Draco looked around slowly, taking everything in, the boxes of pictures and videos; pictures showing Harry being used in the most depraved ways imaginable and he imagined the videos were more of the same. Along one wall was a rack of instruments that he had no desire to know what their use was for. More of the same stains pooled under them and he felt sick just looking at them. It was Potter’s blood, he was sure of it.

The worst though, the worst was when he turned to go and his eyes fell on a wooden rocking chair sitting in the corner. Unbidden, his feet moved him closer, until he stood over it nearly hyperventilating. It was a plain muggle rocking chair one might find in a nursery, except it had been fitted with an iron ring at the top of the seat so that someone could bolt a collar to it, and it had been fitted with metal shackles on the legs.

“Oh gods no,” Draco mumbled and then noticed a small crib like cage bolted to the wall with a thin pad and a few blankets in it. Next to it lay a book on male pregnancies.

“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Draco moaned as he backed away and bumped into a table, turning, he looked down and found a piece of parchment held down with a bottle of whiskey. He bent to read it out of curiosity, and to try to get his mind to stop seeing the little crib.

‘Morgan~
I know where he is. They are in West Virginia. He is pregnant. You were right, he is a carrier for the gene. I should have the exact location within the week.
Cho and I still want the child even if it is Snape’s. That was the agreement.
P.W.’


Oh Merlin, he knows where Harry is, and he plans to get him back! Draco’s brain screamed as he barreled up the stairs with the parchment and aparated to Malfoy Manor and his father.

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Lucius Malfoy looked down at the dirty parchment one last time and then replaced it in his desk. It had been dated four days ago. He knew in order to keep Harry safe he would have to collect Morgan Taylor and hold him there at the Manor until Severus had a suitable location to deal with the matter. Those perfect lips curved into a cruel parody of a smile as he thought of the perfect accommodations for his assumedly reluctant guest that he would retrieve later that night.