Deepest Bonds

Deepest Bonds

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Questions Answered

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As soon as Sirius had left Minerva's company, he headed towards the dungeons. He suspected that Snape was not too well at the moment. For some reason he felt responsible for the man, and decided to check on him.

Snape didn't answer to the door. Instantly worried, Sirius rushed in. "Snape!" he called out. "Where are you, Snape?"

"I'm right here, Master," Snape said, stepping out of his study, bowing in the doorway. Leaving the door open, he walked further into the room. "Was there something that you wanted to talk about?"

Sirius struggled with words, taken aback by the Slytherin's perfectly calm and collected appearance. "But -- I thought --"

"That I wouldn't be well just because Shacklebolt happens to be a werewolf?" asked Snape mildly. Then he sighed, sitting down on the couch and reaching for a book on the nearby table. "It is not easy, true," he said. "But I can live with it. It hurts, to be reminded of Remus in such a way, but I've long since come to live with it. I have to, if I want to remain sane."

"Oh." As Sirius didn't have anything to say, he simply sat down on a nearby armchair. "By the way, Snape?" he asked then, only the tiniest bit hesitant.

"Yes, Master?" asked the man immediately back. The black eyes shot to him, examining him closely.

"That time you showed your Dark Mark to Fudge -- the tattoos on your wrists weren't visible then. Had you hid them somehow? Or didn't anybody just notice them?"

"By that time, I was experimenting with a certain charm," the Slytherin replied levelly. "It was indeed able to hide the tattoos, but unfortunately, in a long-term use it caused me to fall ill as such magic drained me too much, so I had to give that up. Any other charm won't even work at the tattoos; they've been created by magic too powerful to come over in the usual means."

With that, Snape returned to his papers. For some time, they sat in relatively comfortable silence. "I don't understand one thing," said Sirius then, frowning slightly.

Snape turned to look at him again. "What don't you understand, Master?" he asked quietly.

"Why the hell do you live in the dungeons, if you then do everything in your power to ensure that it's as light down here as possible?" The Animagus waved his hand, closing the whole area in sight in the imaginary circle. Truly, there were lights everywhere around the sitting room and the study, torches and candles being lit and a ball of magical light floating over the Potions Master's desk.

"Lucius," replied Snape briefly. Then he elaborated, "He told me to request quarters in the dungeons, as he knew I wouldn't be comfortable down here. However, I can at least try to make it as easy to me as possible."

"You're afraid of dark?" Sirius asked disbelievingly. There was much he could take from this changed Snape, but this was just too ridiculous.

"No, I'm not," the Slytherin said stiffly. "However, I've had... bad experiences with dungeons, and especially darkness." As Sirius just blinked in confusion, he started to explain. "When I was too young to be punished in the way my previous Masters preferred, Stephen Malfoy had a different idea for that. Whenever I displeased him, he would take me to the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. It was dark and cold there, and there were rats running around in the shadows, and it smelled bad. There he would leave me, telling that I wasn't to move from my place. He wouldn't come to release me from the place before an hour had gone by -- and crying meant another hour. It was horrible to a child only a year and a half old, and anything but pleasant even when I was older."

Sirius listened to this in silent horror. How could anybody be that cruel to a little child -- their own son, on top of that? A slave or not, that was just inhuman! And how had Snape ever managed to turn out even as near to sane as he was now?

Noticing his expression, Snape gave him a grim smile. "The Malfoys rule their slaves strictly," he said quietly. "And it goes on even after their death. Should I now request quarters somewhere in the castle's lighter parts, that would be very suspicious."

"Not necessarily," replied Sirius. A plan was already forming in his mind. "Say, Snape... Does Poppy know of your... eh... condition?"

"Of course she does, Master. She's known ever since I was a student. Whenever Lucius punished me at school, she was the one to heal me. Of course, she couldn't do anything to prevent my Master from doing that, but at the very least, she did try to make it easier to me."

Sirius nodded slowly. "Now, listen to me, Snape," he said, the Marauder part of his mind already scheming rapidly. "We'll need Poppy's help for this. Anyway, the basic is, you complain about headaches or something, and after examining you, she says that it's not healthy for you to stay all the time in an unaired room with all those cauldrons of potions. So, your classroom will have to be moved to some upper floor of the castle, where there's a lot of fresh air. And as your quarters are even worse when you brew your own potions there, and you're irritating your eyes by reading in dark on top of that, your living quarters will be moved near to your classroom in the brightest part of the castle. You'll of course put up a loud fight, but in the end, you'll have to give in, albeit grudgingly."

Snape frowned a bit. Then, however, he smirked. "You know, Master," he said, "that could actually work."

"What?!" Sirius feigned surprise. "So you would actually accept a suggestion made by a Gryffindor?"

"Don't worry, Master," the Slytherin replied, still smirking. "I will be sure to warn you long beforehand if I'm going insane." Then, however, his expression turned wary as he realized what he'd just said.

Sirius sighed deep. "Don't worry, Snape," he said. "I'm not going to punish you for saying that." The Slytherin huffed at this as if he'd been insulted, but Sirius couldn't help noticing that he was indeed a bit more relaxed after that.

Something stung painfully in his heart. And they'd bullied this broken creature at school? True, broken was the last word anybody would think of when talking about Severus Snape, but then again, Sirius had seen a side of him that very few others had. Under that hard, cold cover this man was broken, having lost all hope so long time ago that he hardly even knew what it was anymore. It was wrong, it was really wrong. Snape was meant to be strong and stubborn and whole, anybody could tell it just by looking at him. He was not meant to be afraid of dark, of being punished if he said one word out of the line. All this was simply a crime against humanity, not only because slavery in general was inhuman, but because it was even worse when weighing a man like Snape -- if anything could be worse, of course.

"How could you spy, anyway?" asked Sirius then quietly. "Didn't it harm your Master? And didn't Lucius forbid you doing that?"

"It was in his best interest that I did that," Snape replied dryly. "Remember the thing about magical bonds and the Master's acceptance that is required? He knew that if I was discovered to be a Death Eater, he would be held responsible for all crimes I'd committed, rather than I myself. If I was a spy, however, he'd be off the hook himself, too. And Voldemort would have never suspected me of giving any information to Dumbledore as I was Lucius's slave. Only if his own loyalties were under suspicion, I would have been suspected, too -- and of course, that never happened. He didn't tell me to spy, but he only forbade me giving out any information that might harm him directly or indirectly -- in anything else, I could decide myself whether I told something as long as I didn't blow my cover and get him troubles with the Dark Lord."

"That sounds actually reasonable," Sirius said, raising his eyebrow. "Fascinating. You'd think that Malfoys are incapable of such logic."

Snape snorted. "To tell the truth, Master, there was something else in Lucius's head than just blond hair," he admitted. "He was not a genius, but a truly bright man he was, and extremely cunning. The perfect Slytherin, really. And his son is the same."

"And you're so proud of Draco, I'm sure," the Animagus said dryly.

"That little bastard," The Head of Slytherin said, startling Sirius with his unusual crudeness. "He was always blackmailing me and reporting my every move to his father. If I even looked at him or his friends the wrong way, I was soon called to the Malfoy Manor for a punishment."

Sirius clicked his tongue. "Not a wonder if Harry said you were always favouring Slytherins, then," he said quietly.

"No, it isn't," admitted Snape. "You should have seen the little snake's face in the beginning of his sixth year, when he realized that it was not going to be that easy anymore. With his daddy dearest in Azkaban, there was nothing he could threaten me with. If you ask your precious godson, you'll hear that my favouring lessened a lot after Lucius was imprisoned."

"But it didn't end wholly," commented the Gryffindor, raising an eyebrow again. "And weren't you afraid of what Draco'd do if he then inherited you?"

"As you maybe understand, Master, I had to keep up a loyal facade to Voldemort, so I had to favour them to some extent," Snape explained mildly. "I never took it to such levels as it was with the threat of Lucius's punishment hanging above me, though. And as of being afraid of Draco's punishment, well, I figured that nothing I could do to him could make it much worse."

"I understand." After a moment of silence, Sirius added, "I wish I'll soon be able to see Harry, though. And I certainly want to attend to his wedding."

"Have no worry about that, Master," the Potions Master said, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. "The wedding is going to be on St. Valentine's Day, so you'll be well 'out of the Veil' by then. And as for seeing him, just owl him and he'll be sure to come the very day. Be ware, though, and don't owl him with your own name -- the reporters nowadays have taken on a bad habit to try to capture the owls going to him. So, unless you want the news of your resurrection all over the newspapers the next day you owl your godson, be careful."

"Thanks for the warning." Sirius yawned then a bit. "It's getting late," he said, "and I still need to work on a little project of mine. I'll see you tomorrow -- and while I am at it, I think I'll inform Poppy of our little plan."

"Your little plan, Master," Snape said dryly. "If I recall right, it was wholly a result of your little Gryffindor mind being at work."

"Whatever, Snape." Raising from the armchair, Sirius walked to the door. "Goodnight, Snape."

"Goodnight, Master," came the quiet answer.

*

Next evening after classes Sirius again managed to sneak into the Potions Master's quarters without anybody noticing. He was on a very cheerful mood. He'd sent an owl to Harry, requesting a visit, and his little "project" had finally got some results.

"Good afternoon, Snape," he said cheerfully as he entered the dungeon quarters. "I've got a surprise for you!"

"Really, Master?" Snape asked dryly, bowing a bit as he again came out of his study to the living room. "And what might that be?"

"This," announced the Animagus, grinning broadly as he took something from his pocket. "It's your new collar!"

The Slytherin stared at the thing in his hand -- or, rather, tried to stare at it, but failed in his task. "An invisible collar?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Not invisible, no," Sirius said cheerfully. "Just completely transparent. Nodoby will ever notice it, not even if they look for it."

"I --" For once, Snape seemed to be at a loss of words, just shaking his head slowly. Then, however, he spoke again. "Thank you," was all he said. There was no mistaking about the grateful tone in his voice, however. For a moment Sirius was wholly expecting the floor to open and swallow them both. It certainly wouldn't have been any more shocking than Snape being grateful, and to him, Sirius Black, of all people.

Trying to dismiss the uneasy feeling, he said, "Now, let me put this on." Wordlessly, Snape slowly turned around, baring his neck. Sirius unfastened the previous collar and then fastened the new one to its place. It was also made of silk, and being transparent, it shouldn't cause any discomfort to the Potions Master. With some satisfaction he also noticed that the marks of irritation caused by the cruel metal collar had faded wholly away.

Sirius then watched as Snape hurried to look at his reflection in the mirror and with a wondering expression noted that the collar indeed could not be seen. It was there, fulfilling the demands of the slave's bond, but nobody could see it.

"By the way, Snape?"

"Yes, Master?" replied the slave immediately, turning back towards him.

"If the bond can only be transferred through inheritance, then how could your mother be sold to another family?" Sirius voiced the question that had been irritating him for quite sometime.

Something akin to a sad smirk touched Snape's lips, if such an expression could exist. "Her bond was different from mine," the Slytherin explained. "Most slaves are bound to their master so that their mastership can only be transferred through inheritance. However, some of them -- most of the females of the 'better' slave families, and some from not-so-good ones -- are bound with another bond. It's just as bad, but its holding can be transferred to another person with a special ritual. These women are used as broodmares to keep those tightly held families from becoming inbred. Usually when they've filled their purpose and given birth to a child they'll be sold to another family, and another broodmare will be taken to their place. The only reason why my mother stayed in the same family with me for even as long as she did was that she was indeed our Master's favourite."

Sirius nodded slowly, digesting all this information. "Your hair," he said then. "Why does it look the way it is?"

"Lucius again, needless to say," Snape replied dryly. "When I was four, he thought it fun to put my hair into fire. A house-elf saved me before any permanent damage was done, but ever since I've been afraid to death of fire. As soon as I learnt how to brew a flameproof potion, I started to protect my hair with it. It maybe makes it look greasy, but it makes my life easier by putting my fear down a bit."

"Oh," Sirius said, nodding. Then he grinned, trying to lighten the mood a bit. "By the way," he said, "you should visit Poppy this afternoon for an 'examination'. She's already busy looking for the perfect Potions classroom and quarters for you."

At this, Snape just slowly shook his head, muttering something about "foolish Gryffindors". Like Sirius noted, however, he didn't disagree.

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