This is my first story that actually takes HBP into consideration. It happens five years after HPB. It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but somehow it grew to be four chapters long. I have the whole story written up already, I’ll most likely post a chapter every week, or maybe a shorter amount of time. Reviews are very much appreciated.

Warnings: Slash, HPSS, mentions of adult situations, there might be one or two swears in there.

Disclaimer: The characters and related paraphernalia in this story do not belong to me. Only the plot does.

Chapter One

Harry sighed as he paced the length of the cell that had held him for the past few days. He glanced out the high, barred window to the grey sky outside. He couldn’t believe he had been stupid enough to walk right into Voldemort’s trap! Slamming his fist into the wall he slumped to the ground, head in his hands. The captivity was beginning to get to him.

It had been many years since that fateful day when Dumbledore, Harry’s mentor, was killed, nearly four to be exact. That day, he felt, had been the turning point in his life. He had never returned to Hogwarts after sixth year, instead leaving the Dursley residence at midnight on his birthday and immediately seeking out someone willing to train him in any and all sorts of defense and offense. He had spent what would have been his final year at Hogwarts brutally training in everything from defensive magic to curses to muggle defense, and even dabbling in the dark arts. Anything to defeat Voldemort.

During, and even more so after his year of training, Harry had searched high and low for the remaining horcruxes. All of them had been located and destroyed - all but one. Harry had yet to destroy Nagini, Voldemort’s faithful pet and what he believed to be the final horcrux. And now, so close to his goal, he had been captured, and it would probably be some time until it was discovered that he was missing. He kept his contact with others to a minimum, driven solely by his desire to destroy Voldemort before he destroyed any more of Harry’s loved ones.

Before Harry could properly begin to wallow in self-pity, the door to his cell was thrown open. Voldemort, along with several other Death Eaters entered. As Harry caught sight of Nagini slithering around Voldemort’s feet, he thought that perhaps captivity could work to his advantage.

“Bind him tightly.” Voldemort ordered. Two Death Eaters stepped forward and ropes shot out of their wands, wrapping themselves painfully around Harry’s body, pinning his arms to his side and binding his ankles. Voldemort cast crucio on Harry, leaving the curse on for quite some time. Harry refused to scream however. Once the curse was removed, Harry scowled and struggled to his knees.

“I trust you know what to do with him?” Voldemort said to yet another Death Eater. The masked man nodded and stepped forward, gripping Harry’s shoulder painfully. “I know you do not particularly fancy the killing my other Death Eaters do so enjoy, so I will give you the task of guarding Potter.” he addressed the Death Eater before turning to Harry. “You will live for now, Potter, but I have plans for you. Enjoy your last few weeks of life, while you can. I’ll see you at the solstice.” Voldemort sneered, just before the Death Eater pulled out a portkey and the two of them were whisked away.

Harry grunted slightly as they landed hard in yet another dungeon. He fell to the ground as his bound limbs caused him to lose his balance easily. He watched guardedly as the Death Eater that had brought him here removed his mask and hood, revealing a face Harry could have lived without ever seeing again.

“Snape.” He spat, struggling against the ropes.

“Potter.” Snape acknowledged, no emotion in his voice at all, not even hatred or disdain.

“I swear if I wasn’t tied up I would strangle you to death with my bare hands!” Harry hissed. Snape was silent a moment, staring stiffly at the opposite wall, facing away from Harry.

“You are hardly in the position to be making threats, Potter.” Snape sneered before leaving the cell, locking it behind him and leaving Harry very confused. That man he had just seen couldn’t possibly be Snape. Where was the condescending smirk, the cruel sarcasm, the scathing vitriol? Where were the insults and the taunting? He had Harry completely at his mercy and hadn’t made one jibe at him.

With a shake of his head Harry turned his thoughts back to Voldemort, trying to figure out his plan. He had obviously sent Harry to a lesser used hideout, where he had less of a chance of being found, most likely because of the comment about enjoying his last few weeks. Whatever he had planned wasn’t happening until the solstice.

Harry knew that the summer solstice was one of the times when magic was at it’s strongest. Many families, especially the purebloods who were still heavily into traditions of older times, had large celebrations during the solstice. The rituals had been forgotten by many of the more “modern” families, however, along with many other practices of old.

Voldemort could be planning any number of things at that time of year. Harry was pretty sure it would ideally result in his death, however. A ritual sacrifice, perhaps? If he was using the Dark Arts, as he most likely was, he was probably planning to both kill Harry, ensuring his immortality, and absorb Harry’s considerate amount of magic.

There were many ancient practices like that leftover from times long, long ago. Back then, when a wizard conquered one of his rivals, it was common practice to not only kill him, but absorb his magic, ensuring the victor’s continued superiority. That sort of thing seemed exactly like something the very dramatic Dark Lord would attempt.

Harry scowled. He had to find out exactly what ritual Voldemort was planning, and try to mess it up. Without access to a library, however, that would prove next to impossible to do. His thoughts turned to Snape.

Back in his sixth year, after Dumbledore’s funeral, there had been a reading of the will. Dumbledore had left Harry his pensieve, filled to the brim with memories, both useful and not useful. His favorites, the ones that had brought him to tears of happiness, had been the memories of his parents from their school days. Memories of the pranks the Marauders pulled, memories of a time when they were alive, together and happy.

But there had also been memories that had helped him greatly with the fight against Voldemort. They had been some of the biggest clues in leading him to the remaining horcruxes. Along with those memories had been memories of a younger Severus Snape. Memories of the day he came to Dumbledore begging to be helped, to leave the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

Leaving those memories in the pensieve were Dumbledore’s way of telling Harry that Snape needed to be trusted. The man might seem like a traitor, like he was loyal to Voldemort, but it wasn’t true. Harry hadn’t believe him at the time, though. He still wasn’t sure if he believed him. He couldn’t forget that moment when the killing curse had left Snape’s wand.

Now, however, Harry recalled those memories to the front of his mind. Snape had never enjoy the torture that Voldemort and the other Death Eater’s reveled in inflicting on others. Instead, Voldemort had offered him rare ingredients and expensive laboratories to experiment and brew potions in, in exchange for making new poisons for him. He had offered him a way to be feared and respected instead of belittled and ridiculed. Snape had accepted, not knowing the full extent of what he was getting himself into.

Harry still didn’t know why Dumbledore had trusted Snape so completely, nor why Snape had killed him. From the looks of things in the few memories of Snape Dumbledore had given to Harry, he cared for Dumbledore even more than Harry himself had. Perhaps he could be swayed to help Harry? From the memories, Harry had got the feeling that Snape greatly disliked the physical torture of others. From what he had just seen of Snape, the five years of serving only Voldemort once more had taken their toll on him.

XxXxXxXxXxXxX

In the morning, Harry was woken by the door of his cell being opened. He decided now was the best time to implement his plan. Last night he had decided to try and gain Snape’s trust, to get the man to help him. He could put aside his hatred for a bit if it meant the defeat of Voldemort at last. Snape entered silently, putting down a tray with a meager portion of food and water before turning to leave again.

“Wait.” Harry said, and Snape stopped, but didn’t turn back. “Will you please untie me?” Harry asked. He worked hard to push all his hatred of the man aside.

“And what of the promise you made last night?” Snape asked.

“I was shocked. Dumbledore trusted you,” At these words Snape visibly tensed, “So there must be some redeeming quality about you.” Harry said, somewhat bitterly.

“Or he could have just been a senile old fool.” Snape said derisively. Despite his words, he waved his wand and without a word the ropes disappeared. Before Harry could react Snape was out of the room and the door was once more locked. Harry sighed and turned to his breakfast.

For the next few days Snape brought Harry meals three times a day. He had obviously been assigned the task of being Harry’s keeper until Voldemort could perform the ritual. Every day Harry tried to pierce the man’s emotionless exterior. Occasionally he got a reaction, but never what he was looking for.

“You never liked torture, did you?” Harry asked one day. He was still looking for a sign that Snape could be trusted, could be turned back to the light side.

“And why do you say that?” He asked, as if it were a ridiculous accusation.

“Any other Death Eater would have cursed me every time he brought me food. He probably wouldn’t have brought me food three times a day either.” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“My Lord has made it clear that you are to be kept safe until he has a use for you.” Snape said.

“Safe doesn’t necessarily mean you can’t curse me. Safe doesn’t mean I have to be healthy and well-fed.” Harry said.

“Would you like me to curse you, Potter?” he asked, a hint of anger seeping into his voice.

“You never liked torturing people, just brewing potions. Dumbledore left me his pensive, there was a memory of you. You became a spy because you didn’t like torture. You hate me, you probably only agreed to be my keeper because it means you get out of the raids and the torturing until the solstice.” Harry said.

“Ever consider that I had no choice in the matter?” Snape sneered. “Or are you too much of a Gryffindor still?” he asked, somehow making the word Gryffindor sound like the dirtiest word in the world.

“He said you didn’t care for it, Snape. What do you think will happen if Voldemort succeeds in killing me? You think he’ll stop all the torture, the killing? He wont stop until he rules the whole globe, Snape. Do you really want to live in a world run by that maniac?” Harry asked.

“And just what to you propose I do about it? Incase you haven’t noticed, I have a lovely brand burned into my flesh.” Snape said harshly, a look of pure venom on his face. Now there was a bit of the man Harry remembered.

“Help me. Come back to the light side. I know how to defeat him, and if you help me I’ll make sure you stay out of Azkaban once Voldemort falls for good.” Harry said emphatically. Snape was silent for a moment before sweeping out of the room. Harry sighed. He had thought for sure he had something there.