Title: Number 001

Warnings: SLASH, AU, Slavery, D/s, Threesome, BDSM, Ambiguous Consent (implied)

Genre: Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: M

Pairing: HP/SS, SS/FW, HP/SS/FW (other minor pairings as well)

Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable HP character, nor do I mean any offense. Thanks.

Summary: At the end of the war, Harry Potter and dozens of Hogwarts students are imprisoned and enslaved by a corrupt and cruel new ministry. Five years later, Harry suddenly finds himself in a new home, and with a new master. But, with the help of friends and old enemies he re-discovers power, and love.

AN: PLEASE TAKE NOTE OF WARNINGS! This story is not going to be something that appeals to everyone, so please be warned before beginning. If any of these warnings will offend you, please do not read. Having said that, I have been working on this fic for a long time without any intent to post it, but I think that I have a solid outline that I'm excited about working on it, and sharing it. If you enjoy what is here so far, I hope you stick around for more. I can tell you that there are a lot of good things in store for Harry. If by some chance you are reading my other story "Nom De Plume", please know that the stories are VERY different in genre and content. You can expect a more traditional slashy romance from my other fic.

Thanks for reading!


Chapter 1 – Arrival

"I'm just not amused by him any longer. I'm sure you understand, Severus." Harry's master chuckled. "It was fun to train him down to submission, but, now that he's so – well trained, there's nothing interesting about him. Besides, my other two know better how to please me."

After all this time Harry still couldn't help feeling like he'd failed at something, even if that something was not knowing how to make himself cry at the right moment, like George does. Or seduce perfectly and demurely like Lavender. Harry thought that learning how to obey, to finally abandon all of his silly heroic fantasies would be enough. But it wasn't. And now he would be sold, sold to someone whose hatred for him would only mean tortures crueler than anything Lucius Malfoy could think up. At least they couldn't actually kill the slaves, yet. That would have to be relief enough.

"He's certainly much improved from when I last saw him, Lucius. I must say the transformation is - extraordinary." Snape slipped the toe of his boot under the table to lift Harry's jaw. He was gentle, but it was no less humiliating. Harry was painfully reminded of the poking and prodding with boots and canes and wand tips when they had all been looked over during the initial trading process nearly five years ago.

His master pulled his hair back firmly to display his face. "He's a little older now, but not much. I think it adds character, don't you? And I've managed to wipe that stupid defiant look that he used to sport off his face for good."

It was easy now for Harry to keep his eyes properly shielded and his face set to the relaxed indifference and submission he was trained to display, especially when he didn't particularly want to see what was going on around him. Lucius hated it when his slaves looked him in his eyes for too long. As if he was afraid they'd find something there that he wanted to hide.

Lucius pulled Harry's head to the side sharply and began stroking his neck, along the collarbone where Harry's number was. "I took the liberty of calling the bureau and having his number officially assigned to you. I know the formalities are hardly necessary among friends. But, I do like to keep things neat and tidy. Organization is one thing our Lord could have done better, I think." Lucius snorted. "Number 001." Harry could feel the numbers raised against his skin as Lucius ran his fingers back and forth across the black scar. "I was proud to have him for a while. But, the charm of fame dwindles quickly. Doesn't it?" Snape didn't respond.

Harry dropped back to the floor when the grip to his hair was released. He kept his hands clasped tight behind him and his head bowed low.

"Well, unless you wish to discuss the next public broadcast again…" Snape said in his smooth drawl.

"No need Severus. I'll have someone edit the script for us, and that should be adequate." Lucius grabbed Harry's hands and hoisted him up to his feet with a firm tug at the wrists. "Are you sure you don't need him chained? He won't run, but, they're less to worry about with chains aren't they?"

"I'm apparating right home, so, that really won't be necessary this time." Severus lifted his hand out and Lucius pushed Harry towards him.

"Kneel before your new master." Lucius said, but it wasn't necessary because Harry was already at his knees, with his head on the tile next to Snape's... no, his master's boot. His master. The thought made Harry's insides crawl. He couldn't bear to think of this man - his childhood enemy - as his master. And yet, that's what he was, and there wasn't a thing Harry could do about it.

Snape reached down and took him by the arm with a tight yet gentle grip, as if Harry might break under his hand. Then with a tug he lifted him to his feet.

"Goodbye Lucius. Thank you for contacting me, instead of - one of the others. I'll owl you tomorrow."

His new master surrounded Harry with a tight hug. He hadn't been hugged by his old master once, not once in all the time he'd been a slave. It felt… but before he could decide what he felt, his head began spinning and the darkness behind his eyelids turned black and green and then orange just before it all stopped and his stomach began to do summersaults. Harry hadn't apparated since he was 17, and even then it made him sick. He stumbled a little and then dropped to his knees, hoping to disguise the approaching nausea.

Harry's new master stood over him for a long moment, his breathing low and even, controlling – something. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, master." Harry tried to sound confident but only succeeded in sounding like he was choking. He clenched his eyes tight hoping the large man beside him wouldn't kick him in the stomach before he had time to settle his nerves. The last thing he needed was to throw up all over his new master's polished entryway.

After a pause, Snape left without a sound or a command, leaving Harry relieved that he had time to calm down, but worried that he'd be forced to remain in this position his whole first night. It really wasn't too bad of a punishment, considering.

Suddenly Snape put a hand on his back and pressed his hips toward the floor. "Sit down and take a deep breath." Harry obeyed immediately. His master handed him a short glass filled with something clear and cold. Harry took it hesitantly, his mind frantically trying to remember what potions were clear. Trying to remember something – anything! But, he knew there was nothing there to remember. He never had cause to think about his old life.

"Drink all of this." Snape said softly. Harry nodded, then quickly closed his eyes and chugged it, his fingers digging into the glass. Water. It was just water. He sighed and finished the rest of the cool liquid slowly, moaning at the relief to his throat and stomach.

When Harry was done his Master took it from him and placed it on a table by the wall. "What – what do you need?" he asked.

Harry hesitated. His old master never asked him anything like this so he didn't know what a proper answer was. "Nothing master. I mean, anything my master wishes – I don't wish to be a burden to…" A hand touched his head gently. "Never mind Harry. Stay here."

From under his half-lidded eyes he watched as the tall black cloaked man disappeared down a hall and up a flight of red carpeted stairs. From what he could see, the home was much larger than anything Harry would have imagined Snape to own. It was lavish in some ways, and yet reserved in others. It was nothing like his former master's manor with its hundreds of rooms and towering torrents. He supposed that for Lucius, the richest man in wizarding Britain and the minister of magic, nothing less would be tolerated.

Snape's home however seemed as if it was a modest size, large enough to entertain other government officials, but not so large that it felt stuffy and empty. Harry liked that, he just hoped he could manage to stay out from underfoot here as well as he did at Malfoy manor. Harry adjusted himself from the sloppy sitting potion his master had allowed him to move into, and up to his knees with his hands in his lap and his head bowed. It was proper and submissive, but not uncomfortable. Then he waited.

Several minutes later Harry heard a door slam upstairs followed by two sets of feet coming down the staircase, one moved evenly and slow, the other practically galloped down like an excited puppy, but Harry couldn't see who the feet belonged to. Eventually his master's boots appeared alongside a set of bare toes. "I think he's feeling sick, but he's too nervous around me. Bring him to your room and find out what he needs." A gentle hand gripped Harry's arm.

"Harry you can look up now." His master's voice was kind but controlled, Harry decided. It reminded him of Lady Narcissa who liked to pretend to be kind, but quickly lost her patience. At least his former master's anger was predictable and ended in planned punishment. Lady Narcissa lashed out cruelly when she was angered. Harry wondered if his new master was the same.

Harry looked up into the eyes of the barefoot man and blinked. "George!"

But, it wasn't George at all. Harry studied the face in front of him in amazement. There was a long, raised, flesh-colored scar that ran from the corner of his right eye to his jaw. "Fred?" He whispered. The last time Harry had seen the other Weasley twin, his wound had been red and angry. It was this disfigurement that had kept Lucius from buying the twins together. Lucius had never officially told them what happened to Fred, but Harry had always quietly assumed that no one would have wanted him. That he was free, or dead. He glanced at his master expecting to be hit for speaking out of turn, but he only nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey there, Harry." Fred said cheerfully. "Do you want to come with me and I'll help you get settled in? Get you some supper?" Harry was speechless. His master had always refused to tell them what had happened to the others.

Harry, George, and Lavender where the first chosen by the minister himself - they had been yanked away from all the others without as much as a goodbye. They assumed the rest were sold to other masters, but Lucius was careful to keep them from learning anything about the outside world – out of plain cruelty, probably. George had received a terrible beating his first week as a slave when he'd willfully demanded that their master tell him where his brother was. Harry and Lavender were forced to watch George as Lucius whipped him bloody and raw; all the while George kept begging to know. His only mercy was that his screams made it too hard for him to keep up his pleading. Eventually he was so worn out that he had no choice but to shut up. It was one of the few times that not screaming ended a punishment.

After that, George resigned himself. And for the most part he sank away into his own mind and almost never spoke to Harry or Lavender except when commanded, and always behaved with such impeccable perfection that he easily became their master's favorite. George was almost never beaten again after the first traumatic incident. That was when Harry realized that it was more than possible to beat the spirit right out of someone. He tried to resist it longer, but in the end he fell just as hard. Looking back Harry desperately wished it had been him who'd taken the first hard whipping. It was his fault that this had happened, after all.

Fred smiled brightly and gave Harry his hand. Harry let Fred help him up, then stood and bowed his head in the presence of his master.

"You can go with Fred, do whatever he says."

"Yes master."

Fred put a hand on Harry's naked back and pulled him close to his side. That's when Harry noticed that Fred was clothed. He wore a thin short linen robe in a gentle yellowish cream, clasped at the waist with a braided ball and loop. Harry hadn't ever been allowed to wear clothes. Not even George wore clothes. Not unless their master was having guests, in which case he wore small shorts and a loose vest to symbolize his status as favorite and to keep the guests from touching him without permission. Harry thought it was meant to make him look more like a lap dog.

Fred led Harry down a hall and toward a series of smaller white doors. They reminded him of the ones Lucius's human servants slept behind. At the end of the hall Fred opened a door next to a tall French window with a fresh green plant beside it. The Malfoys didn't have plants anywhere in the manor. In fact, Harry rarely saw anything green and alive anymore. With a tug to his hand, Harry walked inside.

"You don't need to stare at the ground like that Harry. Not with me." He didn't know much about Fred anymore, but if their master favored him like Lucius favored George than he was definitely a man Harry wanted to obey. Lucius considered George superior to the other slaves, even if George never did anything about his status rights.

Harry looked around the room. It was much larger than he thought; nothing like the tiny room he shared with Lavender and George, which only had thin mattresses on the stone floor and a toilet in the corner.

This room reminded him of his Aunt and Uncle's tidy little bedroom. Against one wall was a bright window, and on either side of it were two comfortable looking beds, both bigger than their beds had been at school. However, they weren't draped like most wizard beds. That would be silly - they were just slaves. But the beds were covered in a silky cotton blanket and supplied with two plump pillows. The walls of the room were a butter-cream yellow, like Fred's robe.

"There are two sides to the wardrobe." Fred told him. He opened the doors and exposed a simple wooden armoire with two separated sides, each with room for hanging clothes and each with three drawers. The right side was occupied with a few robes identical to the one Fred was wearing. There was also what looked like a winter robe, and… a flying robe?

Harry hesitated. "It's okay – I, I don't need anything like that. I don't have clothes."

Fred grinned. "Well you're going to have clothes here. The master doesn't take pleasure in humiliating us."

Harry thought he remembered being embarrassed - a long time ago, but he'd grown out of it. He thought it better not to argue. Maybe Fred had always been allowed clothes, and therefore was still embarrassed by his nudity. Harry shivered. The master must really favor his old student. Harry found that a bit humorous. He remembered how often the twins got detention with Snape.

Fred opened a connecting door that revealed a small bathroom with a shower-bath, toilet, sink and mirror. It wasn't elaborate but to Harry it was heaven. He hadn't used a bathroom privately in five years. Even showers were a public thing. All three of them huddled under one large, sometimes cold spray.

The last piece of furniture in the room was an end table between the two beds with a drawer and two little shelves. "You can keep books here from the library if you want to read in bed. And there's a house-elf who brings a pitcher of water at night. She'll also bring warm milk if you ask." He smiled. "We're allowed tea at breakfast on Sundays." Harry smiled back at Fred's obvious delight. He hadn't had tea in so long that he had forgotten its taste. But the lingering thought that he would be allowed to drink it again made is tongue ache for a phantom friend.

"Thank you." Harry said. "I'm sorry I'm moving into your room."

Fred's grin faltered. "Harry. Why would I be sorry to share a bedroom with you? I'm just so glad that the master finally got you out of there."

"He – He's been trying to buy me?"

"Well, you know, he - he heard Lucius was thinking of selling, and he –"Fred shrugged. "He's been wanting another slave anyway." Harry had learned to see through lies better than anyone. But he wasn't going to question this, he didn't want to understand something that would probably only mean trouble for him.

After a moment of tense silence Fred gently took him by the hand and led him into the bathroom, then turned on the shower and tested the temperature. He opened a little door in the wall and pulled out a fluffy white towel. "Here. When was the last time you had a shower?"

"I'm sorry. I know I must smell."

"No, no. That's not what I meant. I was just curious."

"We shower on Wednesdays and Sundays. But, I missed yesterday's shower because the master wanted – he wanted to say goodbye." Harry lowered his eyes, refusing to think about what his goodbye entailed. "So, not since Wednesday. Almost five days."

"Well you can shower as much as you want here. There aren't any rules about that. Just drop your towel in the laundry basket – here." He nudged a wicker basket in one corner with his toe. "And the house elves will wash it. There are always plenty in the cupboard."

Fred set the towel down on the seat and then pulled the shower curtain back. He considered Harry for a moment, who was beginning to squeeze his arms so tight that is nails dug into his skin. This new place was strange and reminded him too much of the comforts he'd worked so hard to forget. He was afraid of relaxing into these wonderful new luxuries. They made him nervous. His obedience and control were based around a firm and sometimes brutal set of formalities and rules – rules that he was used to now and almost comfortable with. Harry was terrified of change, even if it was for the better because it meant he might have to start all over again.

"You know, I need a shower too." Fred said sweetly. "Would you like it if we went in together? And I can help you, show you where things are?"

Harry was used to being pressed up against his fellow slaves, and he looked forward to the moments when they were allowed to touch each other, not sexually, just, touch – to feel each other's warmth and life. He nodded.

With a kind smile Fred pulled off his robe shamelessly. Perhaps he wasn't too embarrassed by his nudity after all, thought Harry. Fred's body was just like George in shape, size and proportion. But unlike George, Fred was fuller, healthier and his skin wasn't ashen and pale - it was golden and glowing as if he regularly went out into the sun. Harry looked down at his own legs. He hadn't been outside more than a handful of times in five years. He suddenly noticed how colorless his skin was.

Harry's knees were still a little wobbly so Fred held him around the waist and helped him into the shower, and then pulled the curtains closed. The other boy began by wordlessly scrubbing him, letting Harry stand frozen and unsure and still gripping his goose pimpled arms. Eventually, after he'd washed Harry's scalp with massaging fingers, and wiped at Harry's tear soaked face with a sweet smelling washcloth, he finished cleaning himself and then handed Harry the bar of soap and wet cloth.

"I'll be on the other side when you're all done." He smiled and wiped the water off his face before slipping out and closing the curtain behind him. Harry had loved letting Fred wash his hair and his shoulders, and feeling his hands rub affectionately over his bruised back. But there was still one place he had to clean, and he'd never enjoyed cleaning himself in front of Lavender and George, much less enduring it if Fred decided to clean Harry himself. He wouldn't have complained, maybe their master liked them clean in a certain way… but, still.

When Harry was finished he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. Fred was waiting with a towel wrapped around his own waist, and another one in his hands. He dried off Harry's hair and arms and then wrapped it around his shoulders to defend against Harry's incurable case of the shivers.

They walked back into the room and Harry noticed a robe identical to Fred's, if not smaller and shorter lying across one of the beds. Next to it was a folded cotton shirt.

"Ah. Gabbie brought your robe." Fred lifted it up and held it to the light. It was simple, but it looked well-made and cool. Harry smiled. He hadn't had anything for himself in a long time. Next Fred held up the white shirt that looked incredibly soft, like a baby's blanket. "And this is for sleeping, but only if you want to use it. I sleep naked most of time, by choice."

He held it out for Harry to take before going to hang up Harry's robe in the closet.

"We're allowed to sleep with clothes on?" He asked.

"If we want to. Why not?"

Harry looked down at the folded cloth. "But, what if our master wants us?"

"Then he'll ask us to take it off."

He'll ask us? Masters don't ask, they tell, they order, they take. Lucius would have been furious if any of his slaves obscured themselves from his view and easy access.

With a little sigh Harry shook out the fabric and pulled it over his head. It felt strange and foreign to wear clothes again, but it was comfortable and warm and made Harry feel just a little bit safer. It was unusually large, billowing over his shoulders and down his thighs. It must have been one of Fred's.

Fred rolled down the blanket of Harry's bed and motioned to it. "The master wants you to try and sleep after you eat something." Harry looked out the window. It couldn't be past three o'clock in the afternoon. But he did as he was told anyway. He shouldn't pass up the opportunity for sleep. Especially sleep in a bed!

"What do you want me to bring you for dinner? Soup maybe? Or, I think Gabbie has some roast chicken left from yesterday."

Harry brought his knees up against his chest. He wasn't used to being given a choice… about anything. But then again, nothing about this new place was normal.

"How about a little of both?"

Harry nodded, unsure.

Fred smiled encouragingly before leaving Harry alone behind a closed and locked door.

When he returned he was carrying a tray that held a large shallow bowl of brothy vegetable soup, a little plate with several slices of chicken, an etched glass cup with spring berries, and a tall sweating goblet of cold water. Harry jumped when it was set down on his lap.

"Is this okay?" Harry just blinked at it in wonder. He hadn't eaten like this, not once in five years. And to his knowledge, not even George was fed like this. The master believed in reinforcing George's position so that he didn't become lazy, or privileged. Not that George would ever, for a moment let his guard down. Before, they were always served in the back of the kitchens at a little wooden table with too small chairs. They usually ate some kind of a mash consisting of whatever the house elves had left over after serving the family, or the family's guests. If the food had once been fine, it wasn't once it got to them.

When Harry didn't touch his food Fred picked up a fork and began cutting up the chicken. He stabbed a piece and offered it to him. Harry who took the fork with an unsteady hand before Fred felt the need to feed him. Harry didn't want to be come across as helpless as he was feeling.

When he was finished and his belly was satisfied and warm from the hot soup, and his tongue singing at the unusual but pleasant taste of sweet berries, Harry set his fork down and looked to Fred for guidance.

"Can you sleep now?" Fred asked. Harry nodded.

"Good." He took the tray away and placed it on the floor next to the door. "Would you like it if I stayed? The master said it would be alright if I napped with you. Then later, he might come down and see how you're feeling."

Fred laughed at Harry's nervous expression. "Why are you so afraid of him? Has he done anything cruel to you yet?" Harry shook his head slowly. It was true, his master hadn't been too threatening thus far. But, Harry knew better than anyone how changeable people could be.

"He won't hurt you, really he won't. He just wants to check your progress. And I'll be here with you." Fred slid out of his robe and laid it over the end of the other bed before crawling in. Harry thought it was unlikely that anything Fred promised him had any merit. Slaves couldn't predict what a master would or would not do. Nor could they control them. But at least he didn't seem to have any serious concerns for Harry. That would have to suffice.

Harry slid further under the sheets and laid his head on the soft pillow, his eyes watching Fred as his chest rose and fell slowly in sleep.

Harry wished he felt as at peace here as Fred did.

When Harry awoke it was to the feel of soft fingers running gently through his hair. He opened his eyes slowly to see Fred sitting on his bed, smiling softly. It was strange, this new Fred. He was so joyful - unlike George who was obedient and good but nothing like the jovial twin he'd known at school. Fred however was just like Harry remembered, except, where there used to be belly aching humor there was now just clam serene sweetness, and gentle affection. Maybe Fred had been affected by the loss of his brother too. Just not in the same way. Besides, Harry suspected that his old friend must think that he was nothing like he was in school either. Harry knew he had changed, a lot, but he'd stopped caring about anything but survival a long time ago.

Harry tried to grin, but he faltered when he saw who was standing behind Fred. Harry immediately jumped out of bed and fell to his knees before his master with his forehead pressed to the floor.

"I'm sorry master, I didn't… I mean, I'm sorry I was asleep. I'm sorry I made you wait for me."

There was a long pause. "Harry, I don't require my slaves to fall to the floor every time they see me." He sounded annoyed. Harry abruptly sat up on his knees, shaking a little, waiting to be hit.

Snape growled under his breath, and then closed his eyes to calm himself. "I didn't intend to yell." He looked at Harry. "I just mean that, if you feel you must kneel before me, I would rather see your face when I speak to you."

Harry looked up sharply. "Forgive me master."

Snape nodded and then gave Fred a desperate look that sent the other slave to a sitting position beside him, his hand on Harry's knee. They both looked up at their master.

"Are you feeling better? Did Fred get you everything you needed?"

"Yes master."

"And are you satisfied with your room?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Yes master. Thank you." He wanted to say that it was too much, or that he shouldn't have given Harry such lavish things, but, it wasn't his place to tell a master what he should or should not do.

"Good. And are you still sick," he looked Harry up and down with calculating eyes. "Or hurt?"

Harry wasn't sick anymore. The food was delicious and filling and he'd woken feeling better than he had in ages. As for hurt – he had a few welts on his back and thighs, but they were barely painful and barely noticeable. He was sore just about everywhere but it was nothing that anyone needed to be bothered with. "No master. I feel much better. Thank you."

Snape nodded. "Good. I think it best if you sleep the rest of the night and come to breakfast with Fred in the morning. I try to have breakfast with you, whenever I can. Can you sleep longer?"

"Yes master." Harry wasn't very tired, but so long as he was in that luxurious bed he could sleep for days.

Fred squeezed his knee encouragingly and then smiled affectionately up at his master. "Master, would it please you to speak to me now?"

Harry gave him a quick look before bowing his head. That sounded almost like – a request.

"Yes." Harry could see the master give Fred his hand and help the other boy to his feet.

Fred bent down and to catch Harry's lowered eyes. "Will you be alright for a little while Harry?" He nodded.

"Okay! I'll be back later." Then, hand in hand, the two – master and slave left Harry alone, confused, and still completely baffled by his strange new home.