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Emancipation	By : BadGirlgoesworse Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 14093 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Anything recognisable does not belong to me. Story is based on the books by JKR and inspired by other writers of this genre. I do not make any money with this story.

Chapter List
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PREPARING THE GROUND
“How could you, you shameless bastard!”
Draco and everyone else in the Slytherin common room turned to watch an irate looking Pansy making her way towards him. Her father must have informed her about the no longer existence of their engagement hours ago. And yet, she had waited until now, long past dinner, to make her stand. Presumably, to have a greater audience, Draco smirked to himself. How predictable!
“Yes, Pansy dear, how can I help you?” he drawled with false politeness, not even trying to hide his amusement.
The members of the New Order leaned back to watch the show, while the rest of the common room was exchanging looks, ranging between eager curiosity and confusion.
“Don’t you dare sweet talking to me, you honourless piece of scum!” the harpy screeched shaking her finger at him. “You are the worst sort of cad alive! Breaking the betrothal contract concluded between our families and running off with some cheep slut? How dare you even call yourself a pureblood!”
The audience behind them broke out in exited murmurs, edging closer to have a better view. Pansy’s demeanour changed from angry to weepy within a blink of an eye.
“I’ve trusted you!” she wailed in a bad impersonation of a victim. “I have trusted the honour of the Malfoy name! So much for that!”
The last part came out as a hiss and she switched back to angry again.
“Who’s that whore that has spread her legs for you in a desperate attempt at social climbing? Tell me this instant!”
“Says the trollop that has Selwyn’s tongue in her cunt on regular basis, despite being supposedly engaged to me,” Draco put in without missing a beat and leaned back crossing his arms. “Honestly, darling, did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
The common room exploded in whispers while Pansy was trying to regain her composure, spluttering in anger and surprise. Draco rose from his seat and straightened his robes feigning boredom.
“I am a Malfoy, darling, and we Malfoys do not marry gold-digging sluts. You should have remembered that and so should have your father when concocting that pathetic attempt at enriching himself,” he sneered looking down at her in contempt. “Now excuse me, I have better things to do than contributing to the public amusement any longer.”
He pushed past her only to be met with the tip of Selwyn’s wand directed at him.
“I think you should apologise to Miss Parkinson for making false accusations in order to cover your own misconduct, Malfoy, as well as to me for involving my person in them.”
“You think?” Draco smirked unimpressed, his own wand ready to spring into his hand with the slightest flick of his wrist. “Really, Selwyn, you shouldn’t. It’s definitely not something you are good at.”
With that said the fight for the ultimate dominance over the house Slytherin began. The first- and second-years ran for their dormitories, not even sparing a thought towards making a stand. This was not your occasional skirmish between rivalling groups, this was an all out war and they all knew that. Ducking behind furniture the neutral and the fence-sitters removed themselves out of the line of fire, waiting, bidding their time to join the winning side as soon as it was determined beyond doubt. Unlike the ‘little ones’, they were not allowed to leave the battlefield. It was the price of cowardice, but one they were ready to pay, even if it meant that they might end up victims of the spellwork went astray.
Barely ten minutes later it was over. The Death Eater wannabes had been the larger group by far, though Theodore’s people had cut them down without breaking a sweat nonetheless. It helped that the marked seventh-years were no longer here, Draco supposed, or it would have gone over a bit more bloody than that.
The entrance to the common room slid open and Severus stormed in, stopping abruptly and surveying the carnage before him with a face of indifference. He raised his wand and levitated the injured towards him to make sure no one was in a critical condition. Those who were able to walk on their own followed him into the corridor outside. He turned towards the victorious party one last time.
“Clean it.”
With that he briskly walked away leading the injured along hidden passages towards the hospital wing. The Headmaster would not be informed. There was a reason there were no paintings down in the dungeons after all. Whatever happened in the house Slytherin, stayed in the house Slytherin.
xxxoooxxx
Harry was eating his breakfast next morning, lazily contemplating this day’s schedule when a sudden hush around the Great Hall alerted him that Hermione and Theodore had just arrived and taken seat at the Slytherin table. Honestly, as if the sheep had not had ample time to adjust themselves to the idea. Though, hearing it was not the same as actually seeing it he supposed. Maybe, it was also the fact that she was probably the first muggleborn to sit there, ever since that stupid blood purity conflict had escalated centuries ago.
He raised his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the head table and frowned. Dumbledore did not look pleased of course, but it was the gaze of pure loathing he had thrown Severus’ way that bothered him. Something was amiss in that quarter his gut was telling him and he’d be well advised to keep a better eye on his husband’s back from now on.
The frantic whispering that had started hushed again when Neville slid one seat over to make room for Draco, who had plonked himself next to him as elegantly as such an action allowed and started to fill his plate, not heeding the gaping Gryffindors around him. Harry cast a discreet Muffliato.
“How’s your little project going?”
Dumbledore needed to be neutralised as soon as possible. His stupidity was starting to grate on his nerves, not to mention that it could become detrimental to their plans.
“Not bad so far. Mr. Weasley has informed me that his Lord has approved of the match and the contract. The engagement will be made public in the tomorrow’s paper. Then, the show will begin.” Draco took a sip of his tea. “Dumbledore will throw all his weight into trying to discredit it, since that one would be definitely one prominent Slytherin/Gryffindor match too many and the public opinion would begin to change to the Slytherins’ favour once again, undoing all his careful work. He simply won’t stand for it, thus expose himself to accusations of prejudice and intolerance towards a good quarter of the British wizarding population.” Putting the cup back down, he began buttering his toast. “The Weasleys will be caught in the crossfire and I sincerely doubt that they are going to take the esteemed Headmaster’s side this time. Their defection will inevitably rip the Order apart, weakening the side of the Light to the point of inaction. The side of the Dark of course will take that opportunity to strike, running blind right into our many traps, which would decimate their numbers greatly as well. Those who are unlucky to escape would suffer under their master’s anger, which is likely to send a new recruit or two crawling back to us.” He opened a jar of strawberry jam and put a generous spoonful of it on his toast, spreading it evenly. “All in all, the whole business is going to raise your standing with the common witch and wizard quite a bit, while lowering Dumbledore’s at the same time. Your friend, the Minister, will likely get his slice as well, since it would be the Aurors who’d have to clean up the mess after we are done.”
“Excellent,” Harry cancelled the anti-eavesdropping spell and looked up to be met with Dumbledore’s piercing, blue eyes boring into him.
Unable to help himself he smiled.
xxxoooxxx
Albus Dumbledore did not consider himself an overly superstitious man, but the smile Harry had given him this morning was making him feel like someone was dancing on his grave, or so the muggles tended to say. It was a constant feeling of unease he only ever associated with waiting for something unpleasant to happen.
He sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses and looked at the piles of paperwork on his desk with an air of resignation.
Was the boy so corrupted already that he would wish him harm? Was he so entangled in the net of Snape’s manipulations that he could not be recovered? No! He could and would not believe that!
Harry was and always had been a good boy, but exactly therein lay the problem, he was just a boy. Young, strong-headed and naive, easily impressed and mislead in the wrong hands. And there was no question that the hands he was currently in were the wrong ones. Harry needed to get away from Snape’s influence and soon, but the only way to do so would be to show him that bastard’s true colours, and the only way for that to happen would lead to the breaking of a law or two.
But did it really matter as long as the boy was returned to the right path? Yes it did! The goals did not justify the means. Bending the laws somewhat was one thing, breaking them was another, not to mention that it would lower him to Tom’s level. But what else could he do?
He narrowed his eyes. Harry was a very righteous individual, maybe bringing Snape’s past to his attention in detail would disenchant him with his husband at least somewhat. Thinking even further, maybe it would also disenchant the wizarding public with that wannabe new Lord on the rise as well. Or at least make them wary against him, hindering his plans when he finally tried to grasp the power.
Smirking to himself Dumbledore opened his inkwell and took a quill and a piece of parchment. He would write to Alastor and request a copy of all Snape’s public and not so public records. It was time to make his move. He had let it go on long enough as it was.
xxxoooxxx
Molly Weasley sat at the kitchen table buried in notes, lists and bridal wear magazines, sniffing woefully from time to time. No matter how desperately she had hoped and prayed, the marriage of her daughter to Draco Malfoy was now inevitable and keeping herself busy with preparations was her way to cope with it. True, the ceremony would not take place until the beginning of July at the very earliest, but considering the standing of the groom’s family, four months would be just barely enough.
Traditionally, it was the groom’s family, who bore the cost of the wedding, so money would not be a problem. Young Malfoy had sent her a very polite letter giving her his Gringotts vault number and the permit to charge all cost to his name. It was the bride’s family, who planned and organised it though, and that meant it needed to be perfect in every respect or they would embarrass themselves greatly.
So many things needed to be thought of, the right date chosen, the arithmetical equations made, the old pureblood traditions honoured... And then there was the location, the actual ceremony, the reception, the guest list and so on, and so on...
Molly sighed heavily, yes, four moths would be just barely enough, and on top of it all, she was worried sick for her little girl. There was something Arthur was hiding from her she knew, the reason why he was not fighting this liaison claw and tooth. She knew her husband well and he was taking this far too calmly. That of course could only mean that he was either resigned or not that averse to the match after all, either of which she could not understand.
Not that she could understand Ginny’s decision to accept young Malfoy’s offer in the first place. It could hardly have been just compliance to her Lord’s wishes. She knew her daughter well, or so she hoped, Ginny would have never accepted a Death Eater wannabe, no matter how eligible. Harry would have never allowed that as well, though considering who he himself had chosen, she should not be so sure.
But no! It was not fair to say something like that about Severus. He was a good man, despite the mistakes he had made in his youth. Draco Malfoy was his godson, so maybe... just maybe... he was not lost to everything that was honourable and good as well, or so she hoped. To hope for the better was the only thing she was left after all.
xxxoooxxx
The Room of Requirement was filled with panting and moans of pleasure that night. Ginny and Draco had decided to use that last night of quiet before the storm to enjoy themselves in full. There was no denying after all that it would be some time until they would be able to meet in private again. Too many curious eyes were going to follow them around, not to mention the livid ones of her brother.
But Ginny did not want to think about Ron right now, nor about the confused and reproachful letters from her parents in the drawer of her bedside table. She wanted just to lie there and enjoy the afterglow, with her lover deep inside her and his weight pressing down on her heaving chest. Thinking about it, she did not even know why it felt so good... so right... with him of all people. She was not in love with him yet, she was pretty sure. Being fond of someone was a large step in that direction, but not quite there all the same, so why then? Thinking even further, why had she seduced him that morning by the end of June in the first place? Why had she wanted to? Why had he wanted to for that matter? She was a Weasley and he a Malfoy, it did not make any sense.
Her musings were interrupted by a playful mouth and tongue making their way down her neck and chest towards her breast and nipple. She moaned and arched into him when he began suckling on it. She fisted her fingers in his hair to bring him closer and looked down to be met with that mischievous glint in his silvery eyes. Ginny could not help but smile at him fondly. He was always so boyishly playful in bed! No one would believe her, if she should ever choose to tell.
He slipped out of her, only to replace his cock with his fingers, pushing them in and out, while rubbing her clit with his thumb and continuing to suck and nibble on her breasts.
Oh, Merlin, this always feels so good!
She mewed her appreciation, rocking her hips into his hand, and since she was still aroused from her last orgasm in did not take him long to bring her off again.
“DRACO! Oh... Draco...”
“Yes,” he hissed with an unmistakable smugness, before pushing his half-hard member into her spasming channel. He drove into her as hard as he was able to at the moment, riding out the aftershocks of her clenching muscles. “Yes, witch, say it again! Say whose cock makes you feel this way!”
“Draco’s,” she moaned obediently, wreathing under him.
“Damn right, it’s mine,” he growled pounding into her now in earnest. “Mine, all mine, the first and only one you ever had. The only one you’ll ever want. Say it!”
“Yes... yes... the only one I’ll ever want!” she howled finding herself on the blank edge of yet another orgasm. A few more thrusts and she was falling again, screaming his name like there was no tomorrow.
“Holy Merlin...” she sobbed clinging to him for dear life, black spots dancing in her vision. That was one hell of an orgasm! Draco however did not heed her, driving into her forcefully, grunting with pleasure and exertion. Thus, she relaxed and let him take his own pleasure as he liked. Not that she was not enjoying herself at that, it was just a bit overwhelming, since he had never been that possessive before.
“GINNY! Oh... Ginny...” he collapsed on top of her breathing heavily and pressed his face into her neck.
Ginny wrapped her arms around him tighter, because that was when she finally understood. He was just a lonely boy and she just a lonely girl, and both of them just wanted someone to call their own. And that was all there was to it.
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Emancipation