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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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THE DARKNESS STRIKES AGAIN
March gave way to April without any occurrences of grand importance. If one did not count the final passing of the new magical creature legislation that is, which in itself was monumental in terms of progress towards equality in Magical Britain. Needless to say, not everyone was happy with it. Thus, the Minister had decided to give a ball in order to gather some support from the prominent members of society to help pacify the general public.
The ball would take place on Saturday, the twenty-first of April, a day after the start of the Easter holidays, to accommodate some guests of honour, who happened to be still at school. Most notably, one Mr. Harry Potter, who would be accompanied by his esteemed husband, one Professor Snape.
Lord Voldemort closed and folded his paper with an air of satisfaction he had not felt for quite a while. Finally! Finally, his plans could move forward. He had been keeping a low profile for the last six weeks, with the exception of a small raid or two.
For one, his numbers were too few at the moment to risk anything bigger, with the recruiting nearly nonexistent. And secondly, he had been waiting for an opportunity to corner Potter and Snape where he had more or less free access to them and nothing had shown up so far, until now.
Admittedly, a Ministry function was not exactly a public place, nor would it be easily accessible. However, he sincerely doubted that he would get a better chance somewhere in the near future and he was not known to be a patient man.
No, he would strike now! He had had enough of sitting around, wondering when the first of his Death Eaters would start to rebel. He could not afford to wait any longer.
xxxoooxxx
Harry was sitting at the long table in the main conference room of the Potter manor with his husband by his side, surveying the gathered officers and subordinates of the New Order with a calmness not many of them seemed to feel. The Ministry ball was only an hour away. Thus, those who were to attend were in their dress robes already. The others wore full battle attire and would conduct raids on various Death Eater homes in their owners’ absence.
Their nervousness was understandable. If things went well tonight, this could mean the end of the war with Voldemort once and for all. To match the stakes, the risks they would be taking were quite high as well.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is it...”
“The big one,” twin one interrupted.
“The one we all were looking forward to,” twin two continued in his wake.
Harry could not help but smile in wistful remembrance. Those had been happier times indeed.
“Thank you, gentlemen. Now, as I was saying, tonight we are going to fight the battle that will, if not win us the war, then at least decide it in our favour.”
He looked into their expectant faces allowing himself a small smirk. “As ambitious as it may sound, you know that it is nonetheless true. We all have worked hard, taking over and continuing where the last generation has left off, to bring this mindless conflict to the much desired end. Though, I’m proud to point out that we have managed to learn from their mistakes and not to repeat them,” he raised his chin a little higher. “I’m proud that we have managed not only to find a bit of wisdom of our own, but also the courage to take an approach we know for sure they would not have approved of.”
He smiled sadly and reached for Severus’ hand. “One of the many things they would not have approved of, I fear.”
The same sadness was reflected in almost everyone’s eyes. No matter the blood status, social standing or house affiliation, one way or another, they all had to rise above their families’ expectations, as well as their own, to find themselves here today, together, sharing one common goal.
“One thing should be added though. What they would or would not have approved of does not really matter. It is our life and our future and what we make of it and how is our own business. How can it be wrong then, if our hearts say it is right?” he asked into the round to be met with many agreeing nods. “No matter what the future may bring tomorrow, never be ashamed of being happy, because what you have now can never be taken from you by any mortal man, unless you allow it.”
Harry got up followed by everyone else. “You all know what you have to do. Stay together, keep your heads screwed on and do not hesitate to kill, and you all shall get through this night alive.”
He gave them one last hard glance.
“Now, let’s go!”
xxxoooxxx
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Heir of the House Slytherin, Lord Voldemort, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; the Dark Lord had always prided himself on the fact that every single one of his names and titles had been well earned, even the less desirable ones. He had always known that he was meant for greatness, even as a small child. Though, not being fortunate enough to be born privileged, he had to work long and hard to claim the position he was entitled to by the right of birth and magic.
He had travelled far, had acquired knowledge and artefacts believed long lost and gained wealth and useful acquaintances along the way. He had delved into the darkest of magics with an enthusiasm not many had shown in the past, mainly because they were too afraid to pay the price necessary to gain any real power. He had conquered mighty wizards, mythical beasts and the laws of nature itself. He was the most feared Dark Lord to ever wander the earth! And with Dumbledore finally out of the way there was only one thing standing in his path to the rule of the world, namely The-Brat-Who-Refused-To-Die.
If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he had doubts deep inside, sitting in his throne-like chair surrounded by the dozen handpicked men and women and waiting for the signal to depart. He would admit that sixteen years ago, when the first couple of lines of a prophecy heralding the birth of his supposed vanquisher had been brought to him by one of his spies in Hogsmeade, he might have acted too rashly.
He had obliviated the man after making sure that he had not spoken of it to anyone else and sent him on his way with the promise of great reward for his services, even though the man did no longer remember the specifics. He could not risk word getting out that he was apparently defeatable after all. That would have been a disaster.
He would admit that he had slightly panicked at the time. Well, maybe more than slightly, but now was not the time to split hairs. He had been more concerned about identifying the child and getting rid of it as quickly as possible, than about trying to obtain the entire prophecy. In hindsight it might have been a huge mistake.
He would admit that he might be making the same mistake again. Rushing forward into the unknown with no plan beyond just killing the brat and his traitor of a husband and be done with it. He still did not know the entire wording of that thrice-damned prophecy and it was worrying him. He would admit that he was acting too rashly again. That there might be something about the boy he did not know, something dangerous.
But he was not honest, not even with himself, thus all the nagging doubts were quickly pushed aside.
If anything, the whole disaster must have been somehow Dumbledore’s fault. Some sort of trap. An elaborate plan to trick him into destroying himself. Because a fifteen-months-old baby just could not have been responsible for that, neither its mudblood mother or blood-traitor father. It must have been the old coot’s doing! There was no other reasonable explanation!
He raised his head slightly when the door opened admitting one of his faithful servants.
“My Lord, everything is set up and ready for your arrival.”
Well, took them long enough! He rose and stepped down gracefully, heading for the apparation chamber with his followers in tow. He would return victorious tonight or they all would pay dearly, that much he could promise them.
xxxoooxxx
It was with a heavy heart that Severus forced himself to smile graciously (for him) into the cameras and the many stranger’s faces. The ball was well underway and so far an absolute success. He and Harry had shared a couple of dances, before starting to make rounds around the room, promoting the Minister’s course that also happened to be their own.
He glanced sideways at his beloved, who was sucking up to yet another influential what’s-his-face with seemingly no care in the world. Never mind what they both knew was coming any moment now.
The most bewildering part of it was that his calm was not put on. Unlike Severus, who was working himself up to his first grey hair, Harry was almost looking forward to the confrontation with his second sworn enemy.
Severus suppressed a sigh giving in to the resignation. The upcoming duel would be between his husband and the Dark Lord alone, at a remote location prepared beforehand and without any witnesses, while all that he would be left to do was to stay away and fret, until it was over, one way or another.
If he were honest with himself, Severus was not afraid to leave the dealings with the Dark Lord in Harry’s capable hands. He had done everything possible and even the allegedly impossible to ensure his beloved one’s survival at least, if not the ultimate victory. It was the unpredictable he was afraid of, the whims of the Fates that no mortal had any control over. He was afraid to lose it all this shortly before the goal, just like so many other things in his life. That this dream would end and he would wake up in his dark dungeon room, cold and alone.
A warm, reassuring hand wrapped itself around his, breaking the stream of miserable thoughts. Harry smiled up at him and led him to the dance floor as an excuse to be able to put his arms around him in public. And Severus was grateful for it, despite his promise to himself to be strong tonight. To not distract his husband with his silly fears. Harry knew him too well to buy it though.
They moved in a graceful tandem, lost in their own world just for a while, where no further responsibilities existed beyond the ones to each other. Hopefully, that world would be a reality one day soon, though Severus doubted it, not for long periods of time at least. There would be always one thing or the other that would take priority. Harry was a Lord and Master to so many. He would not be a good one, if he allowed himself to be selfish too often. But he also knew that no matter what, they would always be together and that was more than enough for him.
When the screams started Severus knew that their time of cosiness was over. One last glance into his husband’s glowing emerald eyes and they parted drawing their wands, ready to do what had to be done.
xxxoooxxx
It had been ridiculously easy to bypass the Ministry wards. One might think they wanted to give him free entry. Voldemort grinned basking in the chaos around him. Oh, how he had missed this! The cries of terror and pain, the masses fleeing before him, or trying to flee at least, the anti-apparation wards and blocked Floos would prevent that.
He sent a lazy Crucio some poor sod’s way while searching for his prey. And there they were! Further down the hall to his left, behind an overturned buffet table, firing curses at his men with a rather surprising rate of success. With one sweeping motion of his wand-arm everyone in his way, Aurors, guests and even an unfortunate Death Eater, flew into the air and against the nearest wall with a series of satisfactorily sounding cracks.
The enjoyment was cut short though, when a huge ball of fire came at him seemingly out of nowhere, that he barely had time to dispel, stumbling backwards and putting out the sleeves of his robes which still managed to get singed. The enormous power behind it reminded him of Dumbledore so much that just for a split second he believed his old adversary to somehow have found himself in here. But of course that utterly laughable notion was discarded just as quickly. The old goat was still drooling away in his secured ward at St. Mungo’s. So, who had cast it then?
A cautious look around did not reveal any potential threats. No one was even close to his proximity, much less aiming their wand at him. The large ballroom was emptying out far quicker than he had expected. Some alternative routes of escape must have been opened up to the stupid, covering fools then. Not that it mattered of course. He was not here for them.
Voldemort turned towards the overturned buffet table, only to find it abandoned and had to suppress his snarl of annoyance. Now was not the time for dramatics. He had to find Potter and Snape as soon as possible. The sparse skirmishes still going on did not seem to include either of them though.
He made his way further into the room, stepping around bodies and heaps of rumble, making sure to have the wall in his back at all times. Thus, it was quite surprising to suddenly feel a curse incoming directly from behind. He dodged it just in time and threw up a strong shield, which was a good thing, since another one hit it a mere moment later.
The attack was over just as quickly, leaving him angry and frustrated, and quite bewildered as well. He still could not see anyone close by.
He cast a series of revealing spells in quick succession and came out empty. Small tendrils of dread began winding their way around his insides, as he observed the almost empty room before him through narrowed eyes. He did not like that, not at all, and where the hell were his Death Eaters? He could not see a black robbed figure anywhere.
He was about to consider to give up and return to the Headquarters, when he felt a strong magical presence appear directly behind him. He whirled around with a curse on the tip of his tongue, only to watch a small object fly towards him and attach itself to his robes. The last thing he saw before he felt the pull behind his navel associated with a Portkey was Potter’s menacingly leering face. And despite everything, he just could not help himself but think that something was definitely and horribly wrong with that picture, when he was whisked away to who knew where.
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Emancipation