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Invictus	By : starcrossedkayla Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 13268 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Although he'd been fed regular doses since he'd been captured, sleeping potions still worked wonderfully on Potter. Severus waited in the library for another three minutes before he entered the cell and wrapped the boy in one of his crimson sheets. He'd already prepared the wards and, with his wand out and ready, he floated Potter to the potions lab.

Inside the lab, he unwrapped Potter before levitating him to rest on one of the preparation tables. Potter had recovered enough from the torture that all of his flesh was his own, and only his eyes remained altered. If he’d had more time, Severus would have changed them back, but as it was, calming Potter's frazzled nerves in the after-Cruciatus bath had taken more time than he’d anticipated, and he was behind schedule. Growing a body would not be simple and the Dark Lord would expect results soon.

He'd already collected nail, hair, and skin samples, but now he to gently peeled back bits of Potter's skin, and took tiny samples of the organs, muscles and bones. He gathered a bit of everything but the brain, dabbing healing potions over the small wounds he made and placing the delicate tissue in specially prepared vials full of stabilisation potions. Growing the organic bits would be a challenge and would have to come later.

Once he'd collected everything necessary and repaired the flesh, he pulled the crimson sheet back over Potter and closed his eyes. The Dark Lord didn't need to see this part. Earlier, he'd thumbed through his book of household spells, seemingly looking for ones designed to make chores simpler. He'd found two that would probably suit his purposes well, although there was no way to know for certain until he tried.

First, to make the area clean. He removed the sheet and placed his hand on Potter's abdomen, his fingers overlaying the thick, coarse curls of black that crept up to Potter's navel. The skin was warm, nearly feverishly so. In his mind, he pictured the lower colon and rectum and cast, "Aveho sordem!" followed by "Oleum!" He'd picked a spell designed to clean dirt and foreign particles out of soft substances as well as one that oiled door hinges and other household equipment He saw no reason why they wouldn't work within the body, especially since he didn't intend to cast them more than once.

Although he'd already cast a cleansing spell, he still cast a protection spell over his fingers. He couldn't wear gloves, as he needed the sensitivity of his fingers, but soap wouldn't be enough to clean him afterwards should there be contamination. With conjured ropes he spread and tied Potter's knees to his upper arms. Quickly but carefully, he picked up Potter's soft penis and inserted it into the flask, ignoring the small amount of queasiness in his stomach. What he was doing was a violation; Albus would be furious, but he still had to do it. If, somehow, he survived in a world after Potter’s death, he needed something left of her.

Although he'd informed the Dark Lord that Potter might feel pain as part of what he intended to do today, tearing the delicate flesh would be hard to explain. He cast Oleum again on his fingers before he pressed his index finger firmly against Potter's anus and gently pushed. At first the flesh resisted him, pushing back, but the muscle-relaxing potion made things easier, and he pressed on and then, with a slight twist, he was in, Potter's body gripping him in a tight heat, the flesh pounding with the strong heartbeat. He added a second finger, and slipped them both deeper, feeling up and along the fleshy wall for the spot that he'd heard about but never felt before. There. Was that it? Something small and firm.

"Sacrium!" At the electric charge, white splattered over the inside of the vial and Severus withdrew his oily fingers, casting cleaning spells on himself and Potter's arse before he removed the vial and corked it. There. Now she wouldn't be completely gone even after Potter was. He washed his hands in the sink.

He untied Potter's legs and straightened him out on the table before covering him with the sheet. Repositioning himself in the exact pose he had held before he closed his eyes, he closed them again, and when he opened them, it was while he was casting "Mobilicorpus!" Any small changes of position of Potter's body parts could be blamed on the spell. It was a simple matter to float the boy back to his cell and replace him on the bed. He'd been injured by Bellatrix, and, although the Cruciatus wouldn't explain the tiny scars, they would heal before Potter woke, and the analgesics already in the boy's system should help prevent pain from developing - even in the areas where Severus wasn't supposed to have gone.

Still, he watched Potter through the mirror as the boy woke and ate his breakfast. He turned back to his potion and, when he glanced up while adding Jerusalem beetle wings to his muscle-growth potion and saw Potter standing amongst the shattered remains of something – the bowl that had contained the strawberries perhaps? - he cursed under his breath, cut the flames under his potion, and ran down to the cellar. What an idiot. Only Potter could be stupid enough to hurt himself on a bowl.

As soon as he opened the library door, he yelled, "Stupid boy! Get on the bed, Potter!"

Potter glared at him, a sign that the calming potions were starting to wear off. He'd have to be given more with his next meal.

After summoning the ceramic shards, Severus hissed, "Be careful, you fool," before marching off.

Really, he couldn't imagine anything worse than caring for Potter. It was as if the boy knew that he needed to die.

He headed to the kitchen. He needed to cook the next two meals anyway. "Reparo!" He floated the bowl straight to its shelf as he pulled his favourite cookbook out of its drawer. What to make? It might be easier to manipulate the boy if he could control his perception of time. Make him think that the days were passing more quickly or slowly than they were. More quickly and he might panic at the loss of time, making him easier to control, as he would be more desperate for any sort of alliance in order to escape. Even though it was afternoon, Severus decided to make a breakfast meal to convince Potter it was morning. He had to stagger the meals so as not to arouse any suspicion about missing time anyway. Was Potter even clever enough to suspect such a thing?

Better to overestimate him than to underestimate him, although Severus didn't think it was possible to underestimate him.

He had just put the finishing touches to the first meal and was pouring orange juice when someone appeared in his potions lab. Shoving everything in the stasis boxes, he headed over, warding and sealing the house behind him.

Benjamin Young stood on the landing, glancing around the lab. Young, a half-blood and a Hufflepuff, had been a bright student. Since the boy had been quiet and average in every respect at Hogwarts, Severus had been surprised to see him included in a gathering at Malfoy Manor the year before. That he'd risen far enough to be allowed to travel here unescorted showed that he had more intelligence than his grades at Hogwarts had let on.

"Professor Snape," he said, a small smile gracing his lips as he gave a slight bow. "I don't know if you remember me. I'm Ben Young."

Severus swept down the stairs, giving the boy a critical look. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. How long ago had Severus had him in his class? High cheekbones and almond eyes made him look younger, sixteen at the most, especially with the acne that marred his otherwise handsome face.

"A Hufflepuff," he observed, putting a bit of derision in the word.

If Young was offended, he didn't show it. "Yes," he said, smiling a bit wider as he walked down the steps into the lab. "Half-blood too. I've brought your new potions." He held up a box as long and thick as his forearm. As he stepped forward to hand it over, he asked, "Do you need an assistant?"

He'd been offered them before and always turned them down. An assistant was a likely spy and he hated most Death Eaters as they tended to be petty and insipid. Still, Young had to be motivated by something beyond the typical driving factors for most Death Eaters or he, a half-blood and a Hufflepuff, would never have joined. With his low-ranking and polluted blood, few would be willing to align with him. For many, it would be precisely the reason to avoid him, but Severus usually courted allies of this type.

Severus brushed past Young, taking the box as he walked. "I've no need for an assistant," he said. "Besides, do you really think the Dark Lord will allow you regular access to my lab?"

"I can't help with brewing," acknowledged Young as he frowned slightly. "But I've got information and I can help you fetch potion supplies."

Severus snorted. "The Dark Lord provides me with every ingredient I could desire." It was hardly true, but he doubted Young could help him in that department. "I find it very difficult to believe that you have access to information that I do not. Tell me, what do you know of the recent developments within the Ministry and abroad?"

Young’s frown deepened, his mouth opening slightly as he stared at the floor of the potions lab. "Uh . . . I know that they just passed a new law that requires all witches and wizards to carry an ID card that states their blood status."

Narcissa's latest post had stated that Jugson had managed to strong-arm the head of the wizarding society in France into supporting the Dark Lord's reign, that Sethlans Mulciber was to remain in the Americas longer than originally expected, and that the Board was considering eliminating Muggle Studies completely. The information about the ID cards, if true, would be posted in the Prophet, which arrived nearly daily with his other, monitored post.

No wonder the kid needed allies; he was useless. Severus cast detection spells before he opened the box and carefully removed the smaller containers inside. "I'd like the latest copy of Potions Quarterly."

"Yes, sir!" Young gave a little half bow, half bob, tripping over his shoes as he turned to go.

A bit louder, Severus added, "Also, go through the past issues published in the last five years and write down the name of every single Potions Master who is cited at least three times." It was busy work, but it could be fruitful later.

"Anything else?" Young leant forward, gazing at Severus with an eager hunger.

Before, Severus had often given them impossible tasks at first, just to see how far they would go to try to accomplish them, but he doubted the boy could give him much, so he said, "That will be all."

Young hurried up the steps, leaving as soon as he reached the landing. How long would he last? A week? A month?

Severus pulled out the box labelled, "Oroxylum indicum." Finally. With the base on hand, he could begin to prepare the potions necessary to grow the pieces of Potter into a new body. Slowly, he unwove the protection spells around the palm-sized box and slid back the wooden lid.

Whoever had collected the flowers had cut them too close to the bud. They were useless. This was what happened when he wasn't allowed to collect potions ingredients himself.

He grabbed a quill and two sheets of parchment from his desk in the corner of the lab and wrote a scathing note to his apothecary. After that, he wrote a slightly less scathing note to the Dark Lord, complaining about the apothecary and explaining why his brewing schedule would face a setback.

The delay, which would never have occurred before, annoyed him so much that he knew he wouldn't be able to brew properly. After sorting and shelving the rest of the ingredients, he returned to the house to finish preparing lunch and serve Potter 'breakfast'. It had been a while since he'd taken the boy for a bath, which meant that he should probably do that soon, if for no other reason than to examine his movements and see if that shakiness still remained in his limbs.

Sighing to himself over the utter ridiculousness of his new life, Severus marched to the kitchen, slapped together a basic lunch, then headed down to the cellar.

Potter was sleeping, the heavy dose of potions undoubtedly contributing to the fact that he tended to sleep for fourteen to sixteen hours each day. Stepping through the bars, Severus marched over to the table, loudly tapping it with his wand as he Summoned the meal from the boxes upstairs.

Potter twisted his neck to give a glare. "I was having a good dream."

Thankfully, he'd remembered to add calming potions to this meal, and that knowledge kept him from needing to give a retort. "Get up, Potter. After you’ve eaten, you are getting a bath." He didn't say "you will bathe yourself" because, knowing the little shit, Potter would probably do everything in his power to resist. If Potter getting a bath meant that Severus would have to chain him to the tub and hose him down with soaped water, then it would happen that way. He turned on his heel and, shutting the bars behind him, checked to be certain that he'd returned fresh towels to the bathroom.

When he returned, Potter had buried his face in his food, noisily sucking sauce off his fingers.

"Why don't you give him good food?" suggested Albus, his eyes following the path of Severus's hands over Potter's legs.

Severus glanced at the portrait, which he'd set up on the other side of the tub. "Spoil him with sweets? That's a rather banal plan, even for you."

Albus's grin filled his face. "Give it a try."

Ugh, Albus was right. Teenaged boys were disgusting. How could a teenaged girl be attracted to such an awkward, gangly creature that reminded him of a cross between a chimp and a pig? When he couldn't stand watching the greedy display for much longer, he snapped, "Hurry up, Potter. I have things to do."

A flash of anger flew across Potter's face, but it left almost as quickly as it had appeared. The calming potions worked quickly. Without any other display of rebellion, Potter stood and padded to the bathroom, his limbs moving with far more decisiveness than they'd ever displayed before. He fumbled with his clothes inside the bathroom, but he stepped nearly gracefully into the tub, no halting jerks or near slips. Had all the damage finally been healed? It seemed a bit too much to hope for. In Severus's experience, no one ever recovered that well from such extensive damage.

If he could not acquire a proper sample of Oroxylum indicum, he'd need to find something else for the base. Another member of the family Bignoniaceae?

Potter climbed out of the tub, pulling the towel firmly around his waist. He dressed whilst Severus debated between Oroxylum indicum and Uncaria tomentosa. Uncaria tomentosa was the more traditional base, but its anti-inflammatory properties could prove to be problematic if-

Potter pitched forward, curling in on himself as he gave a sharp cry. "Ow!"

And he'd seemed so healed! Severus swooped forward. "What's wrong?"

Groaning, Potter said, "My stomach."

His stomach? What could be wrong with his stomach? Was something in the food interacting with the calming potions? He shifted forward. "Let me look."

Bam! Potter slammed into Severus, sending his head straight into the wall. Instinctively, he grabbed onto the nearest object - Potter, and pulled him with him as he fell. As pain radiated from his skull, a flash of white caught his eye and a foot slammed into his ribs. He was under attack. Potter had a weapon. The white slashed again and he moved his sleeve to catch it, managing to get out a "Petrificus Totalus!"

How could he have been so stupid? He shoved Potter's frozen body to the floor and stood, checking himself for any injuries that had been missed in the rush of the moment. A cut through the bottom of his trousers, a rip in his sleeve, but nothing more.

Potter's frozen hand was clutching a shard of ceramic and a weight settled in Severus's stomach. He hadn't checked the bowl to be certain it was intact before he'd sent it away. This punishment would be worse than the last. He had no moment to go back to; this escape attempt would have to stay.

He stared down at Potter, at the frozen face etched with hate. If he were allowed, he would have stomped his boot into that face. Instead, he ignored his pounding heart, cast Mobilicorpus, and floated Potter back to his cell.

"Surely he's not more difficult than the Dark Lord."

"No, Albus, he's worse."

And to think that he had to put up with this for at least another month! He would kill himself, no, kill Potter before the end of next week!

Calm. You can deal with this. You can tell the Dark Lord that you suspected he would attempt to escape, but wanted to see how he would do it. As if that would work. Bloody hell. He'd need to prepare the bath for himself.

As evenly as he could, he said, "I have been very reasonable with you so far, Potter. Yet, you continue to challenge my authority and engage in behaviour that suggests to me that you are wilfully being stupid." He floated him onto the bed and wrested the shard from the immobile fingers. Tucking the shard into his robes, he adjusted the chains to tie Potter to the bedposts, making certain the boy was confined before he released the body bind.

Potter's thrashing prompted the realisation that he hadn't made certain that Potter only had one weapon. Severus grabbed the kicking ankles, pressing them together as he stripped Potter of his bottoms. Potter yelled his outrage, but Severus ignored him, calmly folding up the tracksuit trousers. "Jugson was given the reward of torturing you at the next visit, but I will request to give you the lash again and this time, what Bellatrix did to you will seem merciful." He left before Potter could give his retort, marching to the kitchen, where he wrote a letter to the Dark Lord, explaining what had happened. As his bloody owl was nowhere to be found, he had to slip the letter into his robe, to be given to the next Death Eater who arrived. They'd established a six am and nine pm arrival schedule, although visitors often appeared outside of those hours.

He took out his anger on the kitchen, furiously scrubbing it clean until he felt he could get away with retiring to his bedroom for a bit. Inside, he threw up the wards, dropped into his desk chair and closed his eyes. Opening his eyes, he pulled out Albus's portrait and poured himself a whisky, neat.

Presumably he was busy elsewhere, and so it took Albus several minutes to show up and, by then, Severus had finished his first drink.

"He did it again!" he snapped as he refilled his glass.

Albus frowned. "...He masturbated?"

"No, Albus! He tried to escape!"

Soothingly, Albus said, "Explain what happened."

How could he have been so dumb? "I was foolish enough to give him a ceramic bowl. He shattered it, feigned an injury, then attacked me with a shard."

"I see," said Albus, folding his hands in his lap. "You must admit, that was rather clever."

For a moment, Severus could only stare at Albus, the heat rising in his throat so intense, he thought he might put his fist through the portrait, loyalties be damned.

Albus seemed to sense the danger he was in, for he quickly added, "I know this is difficult for you, Severus, but you mustn't treat him as though he is doing these things as a way to destroy you. If he knew what you've done for him-"

Severus didn't want to hear it. "He blames me for the death of his parents."

"If he knew about Lily-"

"He'd hate me all the more." Severus stared at the liquid in his glass. "He'd have good reason to."

"He'd forgive you."

Not this bullshit again. Severus didn't believe it for a second. He'd seen how Potter looked at him when not under the influence of the calming potions. If Potter were given the chance to bury a knife in Severus's heart, he'd take it. Just as well. Severus knew he deserved it.

"Severus . . ." said Albus soothingly, as though he were a child having a tantrum, "I know I've asked a lot of you. I know this is difficult for you. Please remember that he's just a child, and you've played your part as his enemy convincingly. Has he responded to any of your recent attempts?"

"The calming potions work." Albus was right; he did let Potter get in under his skin more than he should. "He likes the food if his slovenly eating habits are anything to go by. He reads the book and it keeps him relatively quiet, but the moment I ease up on the calming potions, he attacks me. As well he should. He has reason to hate me; I know that. I simply don't have the patience or time to deal with his anger. The potions work and make him manageable."

Albus frowned, the number of lines in his forehead doubling. "They can't be good for him."

"He's shown no complications or interactions." Actually, he couldn't be sure of that. That mild shakiness still could be the result of the calming potions, as Potter’s movements had been steadier when the potions didn't course through his system.

"Tell him about Lily."

Severus snorted into his drink. "So he can tell the Dark Lord?"

"Voldemort wouldn’t believe it." Albus smiled slightly. "You’ve played your part convincingly to him and, by your own admissions, he’s a much more clever, more sceptical wizard than Harry. If you can convince Voldemort, you can convince Harry."

Severus arched an eyebrow at Albus. "I have good reason to work to convince the Dark Lord. I do not have good reason to work to convince Potter." Albus opened his mouth to interrupt, but Severus didn’t allow him. "It is true he will be easier to manage should I convince him, but calming potions work well enough, and in many ways, I suspect he will be harder to convince, simply because he lacks any form of reason and has the brains of a troll."

Sighing, Albus sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the wood. "I think some part of you must enjoy the hate. You're only unreasonable when it comes to Harry."

He’d grown tired of the conversation and he had work to do. He sent the rest of his drink back to the bottle. "You’ve never seen what he is like around me."

"You’ve never seen him at all." Albus shifted, his back straightening. "Have you made any progress on the Polyjuice Potion?"

Frustrated, Severus had to shake his head. "I can’t work on it at all now that the Dark Lord has forbidden it. I’ve researched it as well as I can with my new restrictions, but in order to properly investigate and create it, I need time for experimentation, and the experiments I’d need to conduct require too much time and too many resources to hide. If Granger and Weasley were to contact another Potions Master, I would readily suggest other, comparable potions that could be investigated without revealing our true intentions, but I don’t know of a suitable Potions Master within the UK who wouldn’t charge a high fee. I assume Granger and Weasley are lacking in funds."

Albus nodded, stroking his beard. After a bit, he said, "We may be able to ask Kreacher to aid us. Harry wouldn’t mind spending his money, I’m sure."

Potter would likely be dead before the end of the year if everything went well; still, Severus pointed out, "I can’t keep Obliviating him."

"No," agreed Albus firmly. "I can ask Kreacher during his next regular check-in. If he cannot do it without his Master’s direct permission, then we’ll find another way."

If Severus didn’t suspect that he might need what little money he had left, he would have offered his own. "What news have you heard recently?"

"Muggle Studies will most likely be eliminated, although you could veto the decision should you so choose."

He and Albus had already discussed that it was better to let the class be removed than to allow anti-Muggle indoctrination to be taught. It was one of the reasons why he’d subtly encouraged and cultivated the idea, whilst outwardly pretending to protest it and despise Lucius’s tightening grip of control. "I might," he said as he tidied up his desk, setting the whisky back in its drawer. "I’m curious to see if the Board has been influenced enough that they’d vote to override my veto. I’d rather find out during the making of a relatively unimportant decision than a more significant one. Lucius’s attempt to introduce remedial classes for those of less pure blood failed, and he has to be hoping for an opportunity to win against me."

As he didn't want to focus on his losses in Hogwarts, he changed the subject. "Are you certain that the Gringotts patrols are rotated weekly?"

Albus nodded. "I’ve asked Hadrian to be sure that a larger group of individuals isn’t responsible, but he believes that no more than six individuals share the duty each week. You are not the only one passing on information to my network and I suspect I’ll have more details for you soon."

Severus knew better than to ask who else was involved. Some Death Eaters played both sides, and even the loyal ones occasionally leaked information in order to try to root out spies and learn who talked to whom. Severus did this himself.

"I’m told his control of France isn’t as complete as he would believe," said Albus. "The majority of the wizarding population now believes their government to be under too much British influence and I suspect they won’t stand for that come next election. Knowing how the French love to protest, I suspect that the revolt might erupt sooner. I’ve asked my allies and contacts there to remain low for now while we formulate our plans."

Nodding, Severus made a mental note to renew contact with his French associates. "I’ll renew my associations in case we need to coordinate something. Have Granger and Weasley made any headway on investigating our list of possible Nagini locations?"

"A bit." Albus sighed and shook his head. "I’m afraid most of them are far too dangerous, and I must be careful with those two-"

"Gryffindors." Severus rolled his eyes. The rebellion in the hands of Gryffindors. It was a wonder it hadn’t completely failed yet.

"They’re eager to help Harry."

"I’m sure," Severus said dryly and stood. "I must return to my work. I’ve taken on a near useless new assistant. His name is Benjamin Young, he’s a half-blood Hufflepuff. See what you can find on him.”

"I’ll do my best," said Albus before he stood and left the frame.

Shrinking the portrait, Severus tucked it away and headed to the library for research.

Some part of him thought that maybe, just once, he and Potter could possibly get along without incident, but mostly he knew such a thing couldn't happen. It didn’t come as a surprise that he threw Potter in the cupboard later that day.

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Invictus