Author: Emily Waters
Word count: 3000+
Warning(s): Slash, slavery. Crack!fic.
Summary: Being Harry's slave is better than Azkaban. Being Snape's owner is probably worse.
A/N:Written for Snape-Potter Cliché Fest.
"Harry, I strongly suggest that you reconsider!"
Hermione was out of breath, trying to keep up with him. Harry ignored her and focused his attention on his new slave. Severus Snape, collared and leashed, followed obediently, without so much as looking up. "Harry, honestly, this is the stupidest thing you've ever done!"
Harry didn't understand her problem. It wasn't like Snape had ever been nice to any of them. And he had been a Death Eater who still had crimes to pay for, so Harry really didn't see anything wrong with helping out the justice system and taking one prisoner off their hands. And as far as Snape was concerned, he should thanking Merlin to have wound up Harry's slave, considering the alternative would have been Azkaban. Because Harry really was going to try his best to be a fair, responsible owner, rewarding good behavior and administering punishments only when absolutely necessary. Really, it was a win-win scenario for all of them. Except Hermione, of course, who always found something to complain about.
"Look, Hermione, I've heard you, but my mind is made up. Snape is going to be my slave."
"Professor, I'm going to do whatever I can to help you!" Hermione cried out when Harry gave Snape an ungentle shove to guide him through the door of his home. "I'm really sorry about this; I know you're innocent! Harry, please don't do anything stupid!"
The door slammed in her face and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Wondering if his argument with Hermione had done anything to undermine his authority in Snape's eyes, Harry cast a cautious look at his slave. Snape didn't appear to be smirking.
"So, ah, I'm going to establish some rules," Harry said with all the confidence he could manage.
"You're going to obey me."
"Of course," Snape agreed.
"And, uh, I am going to punish you when you're bad, and I don't want any arguments about it."
"There won't be any," Snape assured him.
"And you'll please me sexually whenever I tell you to," Harry concluded. A brief moment of silence ensued and Harry wondered if he'd pushed too far. But Snape merely gave another solemn nod.
"I'd be happy to, of course. Would you like to have sex right now?"
"Huh? No. Not right now. Um … later. When I'm in the mood."
"All right." Snape was still not objecting to anything.
"Well. Uh." Harry scratched his head. Everything was going well. Extremely well, in fact. There were no tantrums, no arguments. Then again, Snape wasn't stupid. Maybe a month in Azkaban had been enough to convince him that being with Harry wasn't such a bad thing after all. "Well, you've been really good so far," Harry said. "Is there anything that you want... er, as reward?"
"I would like cigarettes," Snape said simply.
"Huh?" Harry stared at him. "You smoke?"
Snape nodded again. "If it's too much trouble, that's fine," he added stoically. "I will make do."
"Well, er ... no, I did promise. What kind do you smoke?"
"Canadian Classics Silver."
The line up at Gringotts was ridiculous and then it took Harry an equally ridiculous amount of time to exchange galleons into pounds. When he finally made it to the Muggle shop on Charring Cross Road, he found out they didn't carry Canadian Classics. The few specialty shops that did carry them had closed for the day. Harry cursed under his breath. He could have gone home and admitted defeat, but wouldn't failure to deliver a reward undermine his credibility with his slave? Harry didn't want to ruin the good thing he had going. Even if it meant risking arrest Apparating across international borders and ocean all the way to Toronto.
When Harry returned home, it was well past midnight. He thrust the pack of cigarettes in Snape's hands. If Snape had thanked him, Harry didn't hear it – he just collapsed on the couch and fell asleep, worn out beyond all reason. Even killing Voldemort hadn't been that exhausting.
"You aren't eating," Harry said, eying Snape with concern.
"I'm sorry," Snape said, but didn't make a move to put any food in his mouth.
"Don't be sorry. Just eat."
"I can't," Snape said calmly. "When my primary nutritional need isn't met, I am unable to digest ordinary food," he explained.
Harry choked as a string of spaghetti went the wrong way down his throat.
"What's... your primary nutritional need, then?" he asked.
"Human blood." Snape said it in such a mundane way, as if he was talking about a head of lettuce.
"I'm a vampire, Harry. Surely, you knew."
Harry gulped. The students used to joke about it now and then back in school, but nobody had ever taken it seriously. Still, now it all made sense: Snape's sharpened senses, his preference for dark places, and the fact that he hadn't died from blood loss when Nagini bit him.
"So," Harry muttered, "what do I do?"
"You don't need to do anything," Snape assured him. "If you don't feed me blood, I'll die naturally in a matter of weeks."
"Oh. Well, I don't want that to happen," Harry said. "Um. I guess you can drink my blood," he added unenthusiastically.
"It fucking hurts," Harry growled, closing the cut to the vein on his wrist. The pain was bad enough, but he felt a bit dizzy from all the blood loss, too; in fact, he felt like he was going to faint any moment.
"I'm sorry," Snape said in a sad sort of way. "You can punish me, if you like."
"Well, it's not exactly your fault, so I won't, but – fuck! How often do you need to do this?"
"Once a week," Snape informed him.
Harry chose that moment to faint.
"We're going to have sex today," Harry informed Snape in the late afternoon.
Snape nodded agreeably and followed him to the bedroom. Harry, who had already changed into his pajamas, sat on the bed and waited for Snape to undress. Snape proceeded to remove his clothes calmly and efficiently, staring at Harry without blinking while doing so.
It was kind of sexy to watch Snape undress, but Snape's stare was really unnerving. For a while, the "sexy" and the "unnerving" engaged in furious combat in Harry's brain. Eventually, the "unnerving" won and Harry's erection wilted under Snape's stare.
"What position would you like me to assume?" Snape inquired matter-of-factly.
"Uh." Harry flushed, not really willing to admit that he was having erectile difficulties. "Actually, I just want to cuddle."
Snape nodded and slipped into bed. Harry pulled the blanket over them both and hugged Snape. Snape was all pointy and angly and lying in an awkward pose, so hugging him didn't turn out to be as much fun as Harry had thought it would. Then Snape began to snore and it sounded like a pickup truck backing up on a dirt road. Harry cursed under his breath. And then, the snoring became kind of soothing and he managed to drift off to sleep, too. He didn't even care that it was only four in the afternoon.
Harry was awoken by the sensation of something attached to his face and constricting his breathing. The "something" felt kind of leathery, a bit hairy in some places, and it was plastered all over his mouth and nose. Harry swatted at the thing with his hand. The thing twitched, but didn't go anywhere. Harry opened his eyes... and saw something that looked suspiciously like a large black bat sleeping on his face.
Harry screamed and grabbed hold of it, trying to pull it off. The bat held on to his face for dear life, issuing panicked squeaking sounds and beating its wings against Harry's eyes. When Harry managed to peel the monstrosity off his face, he fled into the bathroom and locked the door. It took him a while to calm down; his heart was racing and his hands were shaking.
"I'm sorry," Snape said. "I forgot to tell you. I'm a bat Animagus."
Harry threw his hands up in the air. "Why the fuck did you feel the need to turn into a bat while in bed with me?"
"It's instinctive," Snape explained. "When I feel in need of comfort and nobody is there to provide it, I revert to my Animagus form. It's an automatic reaction; it can't be helped."
"What do you mean? I was... I was bloody huggingyou!" Harry blurted out, irritated beyond belief.
"I could sense your dislike of me." There was no accusation in Snape's voice.
"I don't dislike you. I just... Look! It's bad enough that you smoke! But you're also a vampire, and you're a bat! Is there anything else I need to know before we have sex?"
Snape shook his head. "Can't think of anything."
They finally had sex in the morning. Harry was determined that he was going to fuck Snape and he achieved his goal. Snape complied enthusiastically, pushing back, swaying his hips and making cute little noises that Harry liked quite a bit.
They fell asleep together and slept through the rest of the morning.
"You've been very good," Harry told Snape in the evening. "Would you like a reward? Just please, don't ask me to get you more cigarettes."
"All right," Snape agreed. "May I use your wand?"
Harry stared at him dubiously. "You won't try to kill me or anything?"
"Of course not," Snape assured him. "Why would I kill someone who is giving me blood willingly every week?"
Harry shuddered. He really wished Snape hadn't reminded him of that.
"Fine," Harry handed his wand over to Snape.
Snape aimed the wand at himself and uttered an incantation Harry didn't know. A faint pink glow appeared over Snape's stomach. Snape stared at it.
"That's odd," Snape mused.
"What's odd?" Harry demanded instantly.
"You were using contraceptives during sex, weren't you?" Snape asked.
"Why would I – Snape, don't fucking try to tell me..."
The faint glow over Snape's belly wasn't going anywhere.
"I'm pregnant," Snape informed him.
"Don't tell me it's all right, because it's not all right! Is – is the child going to be a vampire?"
"I don't know," Snape confessed tiredly. To his credit, he looked as upset as Harry felt.
"How could you do this to me?" Harry accused him. "Why didn't you warn me male wizards can become pregnant?"
Snape shrugged. "I thought you knew."
"How the fuck would I know? It's not like we have sex ed at Hogwarts! You should have warned me! You knew I grew up in the Muggle world!" Harry spat bitterly.
"Did you?" Snape looked at him with surprise.
"What's that supposed to mean? Of course I did; my mum's sister raised me!"
Snape stared at him in a confused sort of way.
"I'm afraid I don't remember the details about your childhood. What was your mother's name?"
Harry rubbed his eyes.
"My mum's name was Lily Evans."
"Doesn't ring a bell."
"My father's name was James Potter."
"The name says nothing to me."
Harry blinked again, trying to fight off the dreadful feeling of unreality settling over him.
"How about the name Sirius Black? Does that name mean anything to you?"
Snape shrugged apologetically.
"Snape!" Harry cried out.
"Why don't you remember anything?"
"Magical Amnesia, I'm guessing," Snape informed him. "It affects wizards and witches when the sum of the traumatic memories becomes too much for them to bear."
"Huh." Harry swallowed hard. "So... uh... what's the cure?"
"There's no cure. The memories might come back if the wizard's environment is safe and loving. Of course, there's no guarantee."
"Fucking bloody hell," Harry swore. Snape looked at him. "Don't tell me – you aren't even youanymore!" Harry grabbed hold of Snape's shoulders, giving him a sound shake. "Snap out of it RIGHT NOW!"
Snape stared at him coolly.
"Potter, please don't shake me. If you do, I might end up reverting to my Animagus form. It could hurt the baby."
Harry let go of Snape's shoulders. "Or turn the baby into a bat?" he joked unhappily.
"I hadn't considered that possibility," Snape admitted. "Though, I suppose, it could happen, too."
"Look, I'm sorry I yelled at you yesterday," Harry said. "And I'm sorry about... well, knocking you up, but we've got to do what's best for the sake of the baby. So... I'm going to try to be understanding, okay? I'll give you whatever you need. I promise."
Snape nodded, still appearing to be ill at ease.
Harry sat on the couch and waved for Snape to come over. Snape knelt at his feet.
"No. Come sit with me," Harry patted the couch and Snape sat next to him. Harry sighed. Nothing horrible had happened, after all. So Snape was a vampire and a bat and he smoked and had amnesia and was pregnant, but... it could still work out. Everything was going to be fine, Harry decided, because he was going to be strong and caring, and do the right thing and makethings right.
He took Snape's face in his hands and kissed him.
Snape kissed back.
"You'll be safe with me," Harry promised.
Snape shut his eyes.
"I love you," Harry breathed against his lips.
"I love you too, Harry," Snape murmured. And then Snape's face twisted in a terrible way, as if he was in a whole lot of pain.
"Severus!" Harry cried out in alarm. "What's wrong?"
"My memories," Snape said, an ache in his voice. "I'm beginning to remember everything."
"It's okay," Harry assured him. "I'm going to hold you through all of it."
It took a good hour for Snape to stop shuddering and twitching in Harry's arms. Harry held him, stroking his hair, and asked him if he was all right. Snape didn't answer. His shoulders shook violently. "Don't cry," Harry whispered, caressing his back in a soothing motion. "It'll be fine."
When Snape lifted his head, his eyes were dry and he was staring at Harry in a really strange way.
"May I borrow your wand, Harry?" Snape asked.
"No!" Harry snapped at once.
"As you wish," Snape conceded instantly. "It's probably nothing."
"Just tell me..."
"I don't want to alarm you..."
"If you just say what you think might be the problem..."
"Harry, there's nothing to say. I'm sure it can't possibly be the case..."
"Fine, you win. Borrow the wand."
Snape pointed the wand at Harry, then himself. A nonverbal spell followed and a blue glowing ribbon hung in the air between the two of them. Snape paled. Harry's wand dropped out of Snape's hand and onto the floor.
"Snape! What the fuck is going on?" Harry demanded.
Snape opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
"Snape!" Harry cried out.
Snape lowered his eyes.
"Harry. I'm your father."
Harry didn't actually remember running out of the house; Saturday night was a blur. He must have walked the streets of London aimlessly, he must have drunk heavily, he must have tried to commit suicide, because by the time he showed up at Hermione and Ron's doorstep at five in the morning, Harry was tired, reeking of cheap firewhisky, and looked like something that had crawled out from under a Muggle bus.
He fell onto the couch in Hermione's living room and curled into a fetal position.
Hermione tapped him on the shoulder, asking him if he was all right. Harry shook his head.
"What happened, Harry?"
"Blood. Pregnant bats. Father. Amnesia," Harry hiccuped.
"You aren't making much sense," Hermione pointed out.
"I... I was wrong," Harry sobbed. "Slavery is wrong... Hermione... Please. Do something."
"Like what?" Hermione asked reasonably.
"Set Snape free," Harry begged. "Maybe he'll just... go away and I'll forget the entire thing ever happened."
"Do you want to talk about any of it?" Hermione offered kindly.
"Fine. I'll start working on a way to make him free," Hermione said. "Get some sleep."
Harry slept. He dreamt of bats drinking his blood and having sex on his face. It wasn't so bad.
In Potter's living room, Snape stretched out on the couch and turned the television on. He flipped through the channels until he found the one with reruns of Star Trek. Snape smiled. This brought back memories – good ones – of him and Lily sitting on the couch in the Evans home, making bets on which one of the red-shirts would be the first to die.
Snape felt incredibly satisfied with himself. It had only taken a week to drive Potter out of his own house. It had been a lot of work – after all, drinking blood isn't a pleasant thing if you aren't a vampire. Charming a bat to sleep on Potter's face had been difficult too, but well worth the trouble – Potter had fled the bedroom so quickly, he hadn't noticed Snape hiding behind the bed. Of course, by the time Potter emerged from the bathroom, the bat had been gone and Snape had returned to his former spot.
The rest had been easy enough. It was amazing, really, the things that some people would believe if you presented the information just the right way. In any event, everything was almost over. He wasn't worried about Potter coming back, ever. He was certain that the next person he'd see on the doorstep would be Granger, to hand him his emancipation papers and wish him luck.
Snape reached into his pocket and pulled out the pack of Canadian Classics Silver, still unopened. He stared at it thoughtfully. He'd never smoked in his entire life, but now wondered if he might like it. He scratched at the cellophane wrapping around the cigarette pack and then, changing his mind, left it alone. He'd just keep the pack unopened, he decided, as a memento of a job well done.