A Most Trusted Soldier

BY : Rettavex
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape
Dragon prints: 51335
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.




Thanks to Slyth for the Beta help. Also, this is my second current WIP. While juggling the two I will attempt to update weekly or bi-weekly.


Severus Snape loved being a wizard, and despite being a half-blood surpassed most wizards pureblood or otherwise in strength of magic and mind. There were times in his life when he could have easily taken a place of serious power in the wizarding world. It was true. He had the cunning and necessary ruthlessness when needed. He was also highly skilled in nearly every branch of magic, legal and not. While he took great pleasure and pride in being a Potions Master, he was equally satisfied with his dueling ability with both wand and sword. Not only was he well versed in politics, war strategy, wizarding law and customs, but he had an uncanny ability to analyze a situation from nearly every angle in mere moments. This is what made him an invaluable spy for both Voldemort and Dumbledore, the latter to whom he was actually faithful.

Yes, Severus knew he could have been more feared than Voldemort himself had he applied any effort in that direction at all. There was but for one reason he never truly succumbed to the dark that so eagerly called to him. It was a reason so few knew. Dumbledore knew. Lupin and Black knew before each met their ends. Minerva suspected, and by now that reason was firmly in the hands of someone selected by Albus. Bequeathed in death. It was only a matter of time now before he found out who became the holder of his Right of Fides. Until then he had to utilize every ounce of his famed self-restraint to keep himself in check. Until his new custodian came for him.


Ten years. It took ten years to bring an end to something that had taken center stage in his life since age eleven. At age 21 Harry Potter finally defeated Lord Voldemort in a head to head battle outside Malfoy Manor. The battle had left over fifty dead, and countless injured. They had lost Mad-Eye, Tonks, Lupin, Fleur and Bill Weasley, and a third of the Aurors. Dumbledore himself had been struck by a slow-acting curse for which there was no cure and had ultimately taken his life four years post-war. A lesser wizard would have survived only a fraction of that time.

Harry was now 28 years old, single, godfather to four children, anonymous philanthropist, consultant to the Ministry Office of Magical Law Enforcementís Training Department, and freelance Cursebreaker. He held an honorary seat on the Wizengamot that was added after his defeat of Voldemort seven years ago, and on Sundays he still went to the Burrow to eat dinner with the Weasleys.

All in all, life was steady and predictable, something he never had previously. Killing Voldemort had been one of the most life-altering and life-affirming events for the young wizard. Once it was done Harry had gone about the business of discovering himself outside of the walls of Hogwarts, out from under the tutelage and manipulations of Dumbledore, away from the looming prospect of capture, torture and death. He was surprised at what he found.

He still loved Quidditch and the freedom of flying. He still loved steak and kidney pie. Now he also loved Cognac, medium-rare steaks, and the occasional joint. He was not a morning person. Years of early waking for the Dursley slave routine, and barely sleeping due to Voldemort inspired nightmares and visions, had left him with a serious lie-in fetish. He enjoyed baths far more than showers, liked cotton sheets on his bed, actually had a fashion sense once he had a chance to shop, and he truly didnít like the color red all that much. He was decidedly bi-sexual and had a bit of a slut phase during the last three years of the war, even becoming a regular at a few Muggle brothels for a short time.

Since the end of the warm when getting laid in the wizarding world became more of an option, he had entered into about one or two relationships a year. Sadly, he found that be they man or woman, few of them came even close to understanding him. They all provided warmth at night, sex when needed, and the requisite amount of intelligent conversation, but none of them made him want to go past dating, and that was something he desperately wanted in his life. Yet, he had a problem with trust.

After a lifetime of being manipulated, kept in the dark both figuratively and literally, propped up as savior and war figurehead, and alternately worshipped or hated by the public, Harry no longer let newcomers into his life easily. He was wary to a fault, and almost never talked about the war or anything that had made him a household name. War had honed his Slytherin instincts to a fine point, and while they were still hidden beneath his dominant Gryffindor sensibilities, they poked to the surface quicker and more efficiently these days.

So, it was with great sadness that Harry sat at his kitchen table in the newly refurbished Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and read the missive from Minerva McGonagall. Albus Dumbledoreís will had finally surfaced after nearly three years since his death. No one knew why the castle refused to hand it over, but they suspected that some charm had been placed upon it to only release upon a specified trigger. The will was currently at the Ministry for authentication and duplication, and would be formally read in two days at Hogwarts. He would be there, back in the place of his past, back in the place of his greatest joys and greatest sorrows. In two days he would sit and listen as the chapter was finally closed on that part of his life.



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