• 1-A Most Trusted Soldier
• 2-2
• 3-3
• 4-4
• 5-5
• 6-6
• 7-7
• 8-8
• 9-9
• 10-10
• 11-11
• 12-12
• 13-13
• 14-14
• 15-15
• 16-16
• 17-17
• 18-18
• 19-19
• 20-20
• 21-21
• 22-22
• 23-23
• 24-24
• 25-25
• 26-26
• 27-Author's Note: update
• 28-Still getting reviews...

Author cajoled into taking her meds by EmilyWaters.

Webster sprinted up the short winding path leading to Luna’s door. When he reached the brightly colored orange door he paused and took a deep breath, praying to the gods for the ability to keep his calm and not give too much away with his usual lack of aplomb. Brushing a sweaty hand down the front of his robes in an effort to tidy his ruffled appearance, the youung potions apprentice took hold of the pewter dragonfly and knocked.

He resisted the urge to tap his toes impatiently while he waited for Luna to answer, yet he couldn’t stop adjusting his glasses and taking exaggerated deep breaths. After Luna did not answer he knocked again, wondering just what the daughter of Xenophilius Lovegood did when not wrestling her father’s tabloid, The Quibbler, into the financial black. Growing ever more agitated and impatient, knowing Severus could be dying slowly while he waited, Webster reached once more for the dragonfly, only to be surprised by the distinct voice of the person whom he sought.

“Hello, Webster? What are you doing here?” Luna asked, appearing as though out of thin air behind him. Webster turned quickly to face her, his mouth going dry on the spot.

“H…Hi, Miss….um…Lovegood,” Webster stuttered. Remembering his manners only at the last second of is greeting, he reached forward, offering to take the large, oddly shaped package Luna was carrying, wondering why the witch had not shrunk it.

“Oh, be careful. Those are live Popkinsnugel eggs,” Luna said, handing off the box that looked like someone had purposely dented it in multiple places.

Luna moved past him, opened her door and walked inside. Webster followed hurriedly. Once inside he lay the box carefully atop what he assumed was the coffee table, although it looked more like a large beetle that had been petrified.

“So, what brings you over?” Luna asked, removing her outer summer cloak and draping over the back of her sofa.

Webster, having been momentarily distracted by the beetle-like table startled, and then kicked himself mentally for being so gods-awful jumpy.

“Oh! Well…see..um, well, Master Severus he, um…Fox…Foxglove. He needs six bundles of Foxglove and he said that you…you could get it,” stumbled the young man through the explanation, once more appalled at just how much of a nervous wreck he could be at times of crisis.

Luna nodded distractedly, but Webster could tell that the pale witch already knew something more was up. “I see. Foxglove.”

Webster looked away from those crisp, blue-gray eyes that had suddenly become piercing, making a great show of inspecting the surface of the beetle table as though it held some fascination beyond just being odd.

“That’s odd that he would send you for a plant he could get powdered from any local supplier in Diagon Alley,” Luna said softly, taking easy steps closer to the young apprentice.

“Well…um, he…he needs it fresh. No…don’t…he said not to bruise the flower portion of the plants.”

There was that innocent nod from Luna again. Webster felt himself beginning to sweat, knowing that if Luna stepped a foot closer and asked even a single question more about that dreaded plant the entire story would just come spewing out of his mouth like vomit. He already felt so sick about what he had been doing to his boss, not to mention the thought of perhaps losing his job and being widely known as the idiot that had been poisoning Harry Potter’s mate.

His anxiety level was cresting higher by the second and just when he thought he’d do something mortifying like break into tears, Luna backed off.

“Ok, then. I’ll just pop on over to my father’s in Ottery St. Catchpole, collect the bundles and drop of the flowers off to Severus. I need to get a few potions from his stores anyway,” Luna said airily, batting her eyes sweetly. She had to work very hard not to roll her eyes at the young man’s pathetic attempt at keeping his unease hidden.

“No!” Webster shouted nervously, almost instantly wincing at having reacted so obviously.

Luna just stood there wide eyed, looking at him curiously as though he had just announced there was no such thing as a Hwagel.

“What…I mean is,” Webster said thickly, fighting to keep his breathing even. “Well, I can take it. Master Severus sent me after all. He would not want you to put yourself out any more than you already have. And… and… well, if you just tell me what potions you need and I will get them and drop them off here for you.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed and her lips parted into a sneaky smirk that Webster had never before seen. “Oh, that’s awful kind of you, but I must insist,” Luna said, before lifting her wand and casting the strongest sleep spell on the young apprentice that her magic would allow.

Something was amiss, of that she was sure. She levitated the sleeping young wizard onto her sofa and covered him with a blanket. If she were wrong—and she would know soon enough— the worst that would have happened is that the young apprentice would have gotten a few hours much needed rest. She prevented herself from even imagining what it could mean if she were right.

Without further delay she Apparated to her father’s property and collected the Foxglove, just in case it really was needed. When she was done, just before popping off to the Hedwigs’ she decided to do something she had not since before the end of the war. She conjured her long missed Patronus and sent it off carrying a message intended for the only other woman she trusted with her two best friends.

Harry lay on his back, his shirtless body draped along a long, crooked, low swinging branch of his favorite tree. One of his legs dangled from the branch, his barefoot just kissing the grass beneath; the other was bent so that he could feel the roughly ridged bark of the oak underneath his sole. It was an old live oak he’d had Neville magically enhance and transplant to grow on his property. The trees were native to the southern states of North America, but having seen the picture of one in a movie Harry just had to have one. The tree was tall and the branches were thick and long, growing out from the heart of the tree like winding, moss-covered roads. It was his thinking tree. He would often spend hours just laying on the low branch, the sun peeking through the leaves, dotting along his skin, as the wind and his weight rocked the branch to and fro gently, soothing his troubled mind like a colicky baby in their mother’s arms.

And he had been troubled lately, Harry thought with a frown. Something was wrong with Severus and Harry could not quite figure out what it was, no matter how hard he tried. Every morning he woke to the almost revolting scent of his sub. Severus looked the same and as far as Harry could tell the man still held to his same persnickety grooming habits. Still, every morning without fail Harry woke nauseated and it only seemed to get better the father from Severus he went. Harry had been trying desperately to keep things normal and hide his revulsion from his sub. It had taken all his will power and a pair of nose plugs, carefully placed high up in his nostrils and out of sight with magic just so he and Severus could continue to make love.

He was frustrated and unnerved that he just couldn’t understand what was going on between he and Severus. In his mind nothing had changed. When he thought of Severus he smiled and his heart felt full and warm; when he glimpsed his lover naked, or in the middle of a shower his cock lurched with want. Yet, when their bodies came close, something inside Harry screamed and panicked.

The great wizard savior of the era felt his stomach turnover with fear, wondering if fate would be cruel once more and take yet one more person he loved away. Things between he and Severus were finally starting to feel settled. They were closer than ever emotionally, and amazingly, Severus had stopped casting angry glances at those who made gaga eyes at Harry when they were in public. Hedwig’s was a financial success and if Severus was any happier about that Harry thought he might have to grow another dick.

Still, something was very, very wrong. Every instinct Harry had was on edge. He just hoped he could figure out what was wrong and fix it before Severus started to ask probing questions. Harry knew better than most just how much like a rabid dog after a bone his sub could be when searching for answers. The only difference between Severus and Hermione when it came to getting answers was that Severus was much more deadly.

Harry lay there for several more minutes, a serene smile on his face, basking in the twittering sound of the birds and the warmth of the air, allowing his mind to clear and his magic to infuse itself with strength provided by nature. Then out of nowhere he felt an intense stabbing sensation in his back and his head began to throb. His heart leapt into his throat as he realized just what had triggered the pain. Severus!

He jumped off the branch in an instant and began running full out towards the house, eager to make his way to the Floo. Apparition was not allowed within his wards, even his own. He had purposely constructed his security wards that way. He had been the victim of unwanted capture by Apparition too often to even consider allowing Apparition within the confines of his wards. He took the porch steps in one powerful leap, bursting through the front door and nearly ripping it from its hinges. He didn’t even bother covering his torso as he made a beeline for the Floo. His brow sweaty and his chest heaving, Harry threw a handful of powder into the hearth and stepped inside with a simultaneous yell of “Diagon Alley!”

Hermione was lounging in her sitting room, thumbing through back issues of the Sunday Daily Prophet when a large, silvery-white Hare bounced through her window and up onto the sofa next to her. It twitched its whiskers and nudged her thigh, beckoning her to pay attention. Hermione’s mouth dropped open in shock. No one had seen a Patronus since the war. There had been no need. The Dementors were back under the control of the Ministry, what remained of them anyway; and with Voldemort gone and the reigning climate of social peace, a corporeal Patronus had become nothing more than theoretical knowledge again.

Hermione tossed the newspaper aside, steeling her nerves against whatever the appearance of a Patronus in her home meant. The silvery hare leapt into her lap and looked up into her eyes unblinkingly, its little nose twitching fast as if in irritation. With a gasp Hermione remembered just whose Patronus took the form of a hare. Luna.

Hermione summoned her wand, pointed it at the Hare, which trembled a little in fright but did not move. The bushy-haired woman dusted off her formidable memory and spoke the incantation to undo the Patronus passwords given to only members of the Order of the Phoenix. Afterward the hare perked up one ear and released its message into the air.

Severus struggled to keep his breathing even and used every ounce of hate he felt for his tormentor to help him stem the screams that wanted to burst from his very soul. Battling through the third round of Cruciatus delivered from Wood’s wand, Severus focused his mind on a single goal, survival. As he had done so many, many times before when his body was being ravaged by pain from curses inflicted by Voldemort, Severus allowed his mind to take a long view, seeing past his current predicament and envisioning a painless future, one empty of his enemies; today he meditated on a place where he knew not fear or shame, but only the protective love of a good man, a powerful man, one that could part the earth if only he desired.

Severus had stopped truly paying attention to the drivel Wood was spewing shortly after learning he had placed an alarm ward on Webster to alert him if anyone removed his Imperius curse, which is how he knew to arrive at the shop so quickly. This was an unexpected hiccup, Wood had said, but insisted he was not worried about having been found out a little sooner than he had planned.

He hated listening to Wood’s voice. If not for being magically bound Severus thought he might very well rip off his own ears rather than have to listen to one more word from the pompous, self-assured, poor excuse for a wizard. With every passing moment Severus wanted nothing more than to propel himself off the wall and beat Wood bloody with his bare hands. Every inch of his being wanted to eviscerate the threatening wizard, to root out the first real challenge he had ever faced for Harry’s affections. Severus could feel his inner Dark Sought howling like a caged wolf, desperate to be unleashed on Wood; yet, with the aconite steadily eroding his power, Severus was unable to break free.

Occluding so hard, Severus nearly slipped into trance, momentarily able to ignore the sickening sound of Wood’s baritone voice or feel the jarring nerve pain only caused by the Cruciatus curse. He was forcefully yanked back to reality by the blinding pain of a powerful backhand across his face.

“Oh no you don’t, professor,” Wood chided. “Can’t have you disassociating, now can we? I want you present. I want you to witness every instance of your defeat.”

Severus let out a dry, raspy bark of laughter. “Defeat? At the hands of what? A man acting like no more than a little boy, throwing a tantrum about something he cannot have.”

Wood turned his back to Severus and walked a few paces off before speaking.

“Can have and will, professor. Within two days you will have the magical power of a third year. Harry will inevitably seek out a mate and I will make sure he finds one. Me,” Wood replied icily, his eyes glinting with malice.

Severus blinked groggily for a moment, schooling his features so that he gave Wood none of the satisfaction of watching him wince as the shards of glass in his back burrowed deeper into his skin.

“You? What in hell makes you think he’d ever settle on a pathetic specimen like you?” Severus sneered.

“Harry has quite the… instincts…wouldn’t you say, Snape?” Wood said, turning to face Severus once more with a bright smile that nearly made Severus’ heart stop.

A flicker of shock danced in Severus’ black eyes at that silky statement. The potions master’s mind begin working overtime, calculating the chances that Wood was using this moment to frighten Severus into revealing something; that perhaps Wood was fishing, hoping in the end to gain a bit more before the endgame.

Yet the way Wood spoke the word instincts left no question in Severus’ mind that the malicious wizard knew all about Harry’s Amoral inheritance; but he wondered how the ex-Quidditch star had gotten the information. As far as Severus knew there was still a geas and only Harry or Hermione could break it.

Severus swallowed hard before carefully adjusting the modulation of his voice. “What do you know of Harry’s instincts you fucking maggot?”

Wood gave a wry chuckle, as though amused by Severus’ efforts to remain stoic. “Tell me Snape, Harry still hanging out with the Weasleys on Sundays?”

Severus felt his heart begin an erratic pitter-patter, a rhythm he associated with intense fear the likes of which he had so rarely felt. Fear, true fear, was a somewhat foreign emotion for Severus and he was not at all afraid of Wood. When it came to torture the wizard was mediocre and completely uncreative. Yet, Severus found himself clenching his eyes tightly shut, trying to force away the thought that Harry had been betrayed by someone in the only family his younger lover had every really known.

He felt his heart breaking for his dom; Harry had only held on to his ability to trust others by sheer will, especially after what had happened between his parents and Pettigrew. The only thing worse than the culprit being a Weasely would be if it were Ron or Hermione. Severus prayed to every deity he knew that it was not one of those two. Yet, seeing the lengths Wood had gone to in order to control both he and Webster, Severus would not be at all shocked if the man had also managed to somehow Imperius an Auror and his wife.

Wood paced in front of a shelf containing jars filled with various essential oils and boxes of petite, specially made soap, eyeing them as though out for a leisurely day of shopping.

“I can already tell where your suspicious mind is going, Snape. Too many years as Voldemort’s catamite will have that affect, I suppose,” Wood remarked idly, reaching out with one hand to inspect a jar of oil. “Never fear, it was not Ron or Hermione. How could I ever expect to have Harry as mine if I were to harm his best friends or a member of his adopted family, hm? No, I got this secret of his quite honestly, actually. Well, almost,” Wood said with a slight blush.

“You’d be surprise at how far a few well placed compliments and a slight— and I mean very slight— sprinkle of Veritaserum can get you. Seems little Ginevra is being neglected at home. Everyone knows Zacharias is fucking half the women in his firm, but,” Wood shrugged. “After a little attention and a pricey meal, the fair Ginny Weasley was more than forthcoming about all things Harry, at least up until I fucked her into a stupor.”

“Ginny?” Severus was confused, neither Harry or Hermione had ever said anything about Ginny knowing.

“Oh, yes. You know how younger siblings are, always tagging along behind the older ones, wanting desperately to be included. And when they are shooed away they can often be found eaves dropping, wanting to know what’s so important they could not be included,” Wood replied, stalking over closer to where Severus was pinned.

“You’d be surprised at what that girl knows. Her age may have reduced her to little more than a by-stander in the war, but I do believe, Severus, she would have made a superb spy. I gathered that nearly everything she told me about this inherence she overheard inside the very thin walls of the Burrow; thin walls and a pair of the twins’ new and improved extendable ears gave her quite the access. She told me all about Harry’s sixth year, the Amoral inheritance, how he likes his tea, his favorite foods.”

Wood took yet another step closer, so that he could speak right into Severus’ ear.

“She told me how he looks naked, where he is ticklish, all about that birthmark on the back of his right thigh, how long and thick his cock is; even what he sounds like when he cums,” Wood added with a slight moan, his breath hot in Severus’ ear, before stepping back again.

“She even told me what she knew about his relationship with you—sub, heh? Never would have guessed. I’ll rectify that though. I can only imagine how unsatisfied Harry has been; always having to see to your needs, sticking his cock up your filthy, Death-Eater ass,” Wood sneered, pulling back his fist and slamming it into Severus’ gut.

“He probably isn’t even a top, you bastard. Bet you lost the fucking breeding battle on purpose you spineless fuck!”

Despite having the wind knocked out of him, Severus gave a gasping chuckle, hoping to infuriate Wood to the point of making a mistake. Catching the look of rage that marred the handsome star’s features Severus was certain he was on the right track. Wood wanted the satisfaction of breaking him and making him beg. Better and far more deadly men had tried and failed, Severus thought proudly. And then, for the briefest of moments Severus thought the combination of aconite poisoning and blood loss had finally begun making him hallucinate, because there standing directly behind Wood like some pale angel of mercy was a mirage in the form of Luna.