FOR SERVICES RENDERED

A/N - I am sorry but this chapter does have a cliff hanger ending, but things are getting a bit exciting now and I am afraid that there are several twists and turns ahead. I will try to have 3 chapters up next weekend, which should get you past the worst bits! So if you can't bear to read cliffies you might want to wait until this time next week.

Thanks KIm and TQA, you know what you do!


Chapter Forty-One

The winter had finally ceased its hold on the countryside. All at once, the signs of spring were everywhere. The whin bushes were laden with yellow flowers and Severus took Farid with him to the moorland behind the castle, to help him help him gather some; they were useful as potions ingredients, after all. They had filled two big baskets between them - not an easy task as the gorse was also laden with sharp needle-length thorns, which tore at unsuspecting fingers and other body parts.

Severus watched as Farid’s final crop filled the second basket to the brim. The boy deserved a rest, Severus thought. He had worked so hard over the past few months, he trained unrelentingly every day, he studied hard too, and was beginning to catch up with his peers in several areas. His reading had come on, beyond all recognition, and there were few documents now that he could not decipher given enough time and some support.

His magic was infinitely more powerful than any of his fellow students; indeed, he seemed more powerful than anyone else in the castle. He now duelled two or three adults at a time, and had not been defeated for months. He loved duelling too; he came alive when he thrashed them, his eyes dancing with mirth as they failed to breach his shields or undo his hexes.

He had made such progress, he was so much more confident than the acquiescent slave that Severus had rescued, so much more at ease than the trembling boy who had been raped just five months ago. He had come through so much, this wonderful young man and sometimes Severus loved him so deeply, with such a fierce devotion, that he thought his heart would burst open.

Each day now, Farid seemed to progress in yet another unexpected area; only yesterday, they had had a row - their first ever - and Severus had seen evidence of Farid’s passion in yet another arena of his life. They had been casting hexes at one another, but these days Farid did not give this his all, he held back, protected his opponents from harm and Severus had shouted at him, told him to stop ‘pussy-footing around and being pathetic, and get on with it.’

Farid had turned around; his eyes alight with passion, with fury. He had told Severus that he had to be careful; he would not be made to harm his Master or his friends. He had clenched his fists, stomped his foot and his face had been contorted with anger, which had escalated when Severus had laughed.

It was only when Severus pointed out that he had lost his temper, had shouted at his Master that Farid’s anger had dissipated and then he had collapsed in horror. But Severus had hugged him, had swung him around, and kissed him fiercely, had told him how proud he was and had pointed out that he was delighted that Farid could be angry with him, because it meant that perhaps the bond was at last allowing them more freedom. This had sent Hermione scuttling off to the library to follow up a reference that she had read about months ago, but as yet she had not returned with her findings.

Now Severus tugged at Farid’s hand and pulled him down beside him on the grass, it was growing rapidly in the temperate weather and would need to be mown soon. But right now Severus had spread out a picnic rug and opened the basket that they had brought with them, stuffed with all kinds of goodies.

“It is time for lunch, my own,” he said before claiming Farid’s mouth in a deep and passionate kiss, releasing him momentarily, smiling down at the gorgeous creature who lay panting on the rug beneath him.

“I would like an appetiser,” he grinned, “and you, my dear Farid, are it!”

Farid giggled and pulled Severus down to return the kiss. Seconds later, the boy was completely naked and Severus was even more turned on.

Farid’s body was lithe and beautiful, and having him here, ready and willing and completely at ease, stirred Severus enormously. Farid still held no shame in his body; he had spent so much of his life naked, had been told so often that his form was pleasing that he did not care who saw him unclothed, and even the incident with Nott and his cronies had done nothing to alter this.

For Severus, even though he had worked so hard to give Farid freedom and autonomy, the willing, pliable reality of an aroused Farid fed into all his fantasies and fuelled his desire. So, whilst the spring sun warmed them and the birds sang all around, he feasted on the body of his willing lover.

Licking and nibbling at the boy’s nipple rings always sent Farid almost mad with desire; these were the only piercings that Farid retained. Lately they had been experimenting with other toys - feathers, a suede flogger, an assortment of plugs - but Severus had promised that he would never tie Farid down, or gag or blindfold him. Occasionally though, like now for example, Severus would pin Farid’s hands above his head with his own larger ones and play with Farid’s body with his lips and his tongue and his teeth. Farid, in his turn, would arch into Severus’ ministrations and squeal and moan and writhe, further arousing Severus with all the sweet sounds that he made.

Severus reached over into the baskets of whin flowers and grabbed a handful, scattering them along Farid’s torso, rubbing the buttery yellow petals into Farid’s creamy skin causing the boy to writhe even more. He sat back on his heels for a moment to enjoy the picture of wantonness that Farid presented, lying in the spring sunshine on a blue tartan rug, completely naked and covered in yellow flowers. Severus grinned he took more blooms by the handful and sprinkled them around Farid’s groin and along his belly; then, after enjoying the view for a moment longer, he ran his hands along Farid’s thighs, easily lifting his bottom so that he could place a pillow underneath him. Slowly, so slowly, he found Farid’s anus and started to gently prepare him, using soft creamy butter as a lubricant, mixing it with yet more of the freshly gathered flowers. Farid was whimpering with need now, so Severus placed himself so that he could enter him with no more ado.

The boy was so hot, so tight and yet so willing. He had kept his hands where Severus had placed them; even after all these months together he was often reluctant to move from a position that Severus had placed him in and Severus would often have to whisper to him that he would like to be touched by Farid. But today, he knelt up and just watched Farid’s abandonment to sensation. He rubbed the flowers into Farid’s skin again, releasing the scent of lemons into the air and watched the boy arch and squirm under his caresses. Farid’s cock, in its nest of yellow blooms, was hard and weeping and, as Severus felt himself reaching climax, he began to stroke Farid too, rubbing more petals into the flesh of Farid’s cock.

Finally, as Farid squirmed and murmured under his breath, losing himself in Kazakh as he often did when he reached such a state of blissfulness, Severus felt the pressure building until he came hard, pumping his seed into Farid, seconds later Farid came too, screaming his completion as he fisted the grass above his head.

Later, when they were eating, Severus explained the aphrodisiacal qualities of gorse flowers to his satiated lover. “The gorse is known as the ‘kissing bush,’” Severus told him. “Even the Muggles call it that. It is said, that when the whin is in flower, then lovers can kiss. However the whin is rumoured to always be in flower, so lovers can always kiss when they find it! Rubbed into the skin, activated by the body’s own fluids, it certainly adds a certain frisson to making love.”

Farid had then insisted that he refill the, by now, half empty basket and did so, still completely naked. By the time he had finished however, Severus had become so aroused watching a deliciously bare Farid gracefully dodge the sharp thorns, that they had made love all over again, Severus laving his tongue over all the little patches of colour left behind on Farid’s skin by the natural dye in the flower petals, found his tongue tingling with the natural potion.

It had been mid afternoon when they had finally separated; Farid for duelling practice, wearing only a pair of simple tracksuit bottoms that Severus had summoned for him and looking, to Severus’ eyes at least, completely delectable. Severus had gone to his lab to distil the flowers that they had collected for use in a number of different potions and then on to the dungeons for several hours of teaching.

And now it was teatime and Severus was in the Great Hall, deep in thought. He had just spoken to Remus, who had spent the afternoon duelling with Farid. His boy was in the shower but would be along shortly; he would join his classmates from Gryffindor and they would eat and talk and chatter and it would be at least another hour before they could be alone together. Normally, Severus had no problem with this - he enjoyed watching Farid interact with his friends - but today, he really did not want to be here, he wanted to be alone with Farid and he did not want to wait at all.

It was Hermione’s fault that he had become so distracted. She had caught up with him outside his classroom, just after he had finished teaching the 3rd year Hufflepuffs.

“Please, Professor,” she had said, “I have found it, at last.” Her eyes had been shining and Severus had not needed to ask just what it was that Hermione had found, because he had known that she would finally succeed in her quest from the moment she had gone haring off to the library just a day or two ago. Hermione had discovered how to overcome the bond.

The ridiculous thing was how simple it would be. That, because of Severus’ changes - the bill of rights that he had given Farid, the breaking down of Farid’s training, all the little freedoms that Severus had initiated - because of that, according to Hermione, they were already halfway there. She had found the answer in an obscure text about the Roman orator Marcus Tullius Cicero*. Cicero had owned a slave, one who had been very special to him, and when Cicero had been gravely ill, afraid that he was dying, he had freed his favourite slave, worried that his own death would also cause the death of the young man of whom he was so fond.

Slavery was common in Roman times, but Cicero was a wizard and Tiro, his slave, showed a magical aptitude from a young age, even though he were both slave and muggleborn. Cicero had bonded the boy to him and later freed him simply because he had wished him to be free.

Many of Cicero’s famous texts were well known; Hermione had told Severus that even Muggles had heard of the great Republican and his works. But few knew that he, or indeed Tiro, were wizards, and fewer still knew about the bond between them. Hermione had finally found the reference to the dissolving of the bond in one of the many volumes of Cicero’s letters to friends, this particular one being to a long-standing correspondent called Atticus.

Severus had unwittingly, instinctively, repeated the actions that Cicero had taken, in making a favourite, a companion, of a bright, able slave so very many years before. In doing so, in repeating Cicero’s actions, he had almost completely negated the insidious rule of the bond.

This had been why Severus had felt so much more in control, why Farid had gained more autonomy and had been able to grow and develop as a person, rather than a cipher for his Master’s will.

Hermione had thought that, because some of Cicero’s letters had fallen into obscurity, the passage about how Tiro was freed, and exactly how closely he had been bonded to his master, had also been overlooked; and because few masters since had shown the same enlightenment that Cicero had, very few, if any, magically bonded slaves had been granted their freedom in the same way and of these few, none had been recorded. Therefore, the simple act of granting freedom by merely wishing for it had been long forgotten and generations of wizards had believed that such bonds were immutable and indestructible.

Severus felt conflicted: he was delighted at the news - he did still want Farid to be free, he truly did - but once he was free would he leave Severus? He thought not, Tiro had not left Cicero’s side after all, and Severus thought of the loving looks that Farid gave him, the way he would touch his Master constantly, lovingly as if needing to check that Severus were still there. No, he really did have no true worries on that score. He knew that Farid loved him and tonight, after tea was over, Severus would finally free his beloved slave in the way that Cicero had more than 2000 years before.

He smiled to himself, picturing Farid’s face when he heard the news; he would have to reassure the boy that he would never leave him, never abandon him. He held up his glass to Hermione when he caught her eye in a simple gesture of thanks.

Then, all of a sudden, Severus felt cold, as if someone had walked on his grave. He shivered; the temperature in the Great Hall had plummeted without warning. He could see his breath escaping in little clouds in front of him, and then, then things seemed to happen rapidly, explosively and yet as if in slow motion. The doors of the hall flew open and Farid came charging through. He too, seemed to be moving in slow motion. He wore nothing but the pair of plain black tracksuit bottoms that Severus had summoned for him earlier; he was dripping wet, he had obviously come straight from the shower and his hair flowed free.

Of late Farid had often seemed demure, always immaculate in uniform, hair neatly tied behind him usually in a single plait. But now it flowed around him, like a dark untamed river. He was running, his wand was in his hand and his face, his face was covered in blood. It was smeared on his cheeks and his forehead, it was in his hair. It resembled the war paint that the great wizard Chief Seattle wore in Farid’s favourite Chocolate Toad card. He looked wild, savage, powerful, as he ran, purposely, unrelentingly towards his Master.

Severus gasped but any sound that he made was drowned out by a chorus of screams from the children gathered around the dining tables. They were looking up, pointing at the enchanted ceiling in sheer unmitigated terror.

Severus tore his eyes from Farid and looked up too. What he saw above him almost caused the blood to freeze in his veins: the sky was barely visible, there were no clouds, no blue sky fading to dusk; instead it was darkening with something else - high up, coming nearer all the time, the sky swarmed with hundreds of dementors.

They were circling getting ever lower, ever closer to the school.

But Farid had reached Severus’ side and he whirled around, the ends of the wet tendrils of hair slapped against Severus’ face and robe as Farid turned rapidly, so close to his Master. The boy stopped and spread his arms wide he threw back his head and shouted with perfect diction, “Expecto Patronum!” The words cut through the screams of terror, they echoed around the hall. Something huge and white burst from the end of his wand. It glowed; it seemed to pulsate with light. It was stunningly beautiful.

“It’s a swan!” It was one of the Ravenclaw’s who shouted and pointed up as the huge bird made its progress towards the army of dementors.

Severus’ jaw dropped; he could simply not believe what had just happened to be true.

When he had been at school, he had followed the Marauders around for most of a year. They had a secret, this he had known, one that had concerned Lupin, and finally at the end of the year he had found out what it was, Lupin’s lycanthropy. But somewhere along the way he had also found out about the Marauders’ animagus abilities and he had determined that he too would become an animagus. It took him most of the following term, but in the end he made it, he became an animagus too: he became a swan.

But all these years he had told no-one. Severus had been such an unprepossessing child; he could not have bourn the taunts, the laughter about how an ugly ducking such as himself had ever become a swan. A raven, some sort of raptor, that would have been acceptable, both to his classmates and later in his role as a spy. But a swan? It wasn’t exactly an un-noticeable form after all; it had been too flamboyant, too conspicuous for Severus, so he had almost buried the memory that he had ever managed such a feat. He had mentioned it to no-one and had not even thought about himself for years. But Farid must have known, his Patronus was Severus’ secret animal and it was truly magnificent.

Awed, and somewhat comforted, he watched it fly around the enchanted ceiling, huge wings flapping gently; the form that nobody but himself knew existed, yet another connection between himself and Farid. He watched the glorious creature drift up through the glass dome of the roof as if the barrier did not exist and he continued to watch it as it plunged into the dementors and chased them away. Extending its long neck, charging at them, snapping at them with his sharp bill, they were dissipating like morning mist, the scariest, most abominable creatures in wizarding life were being dissolved by Farid with ease.

But the doors had burst open again. This time the screams were louder and more prolonged, the terror even more apparent.

Striding into the Great Hall as if he had already won, as if the school belonged to him was Tom Marvolo Riddle, young of countenance, strikingly handsome, evil personified. Lord Voldemort had arrived.

Severus almost stopped breathing. His heart clenched with fear. But in front of Severus Farid had turned to face the intruder; he looked calm, relaxed, completely unperturbed.

His chest was rising and falling still with the effort that it must have cost him to run here from the dungeons. Water droplets gleamed on his chest, his pectoral muscles were beautifully defined, his abdominal muscles firm, his hair flowed over his shoulders and down his back and his features were only slightly blurred by the blood that still poured from the scar which had burst open on his forehead. His emerald eyes flashed with passion and with power, he looked unafraid, otherworldly, unearthly.

With his head to one side, a small smile playing on his lips, Farid watched, without blinking an eye, as the darkest wizard to blight the world for centuries made his progress toward them, followed by a stream of Death Eaters. He stood guard in front of Severus; much smaller than his Master but infinitely more powerful than anyone else in the room. Unflinchingly, steadily he waited, making Voldemort come to him.

The Dark Lord stopped just in front of them.

“So this is the famous Harry Potter, is it?” he sneered. “This is no powerful wizard I see before me; this some half-naked child playing at being grown up. Move aside little boy, let me take care of my traitor and then, if you are good, I might keep you alive, to be my little slave!”

“I don’t zink so, Woldemort. I don’t zink dyou have ze power,” Farid said calmly. “I have vaited long for zis. Dyou vant him? Dyou vant ze school? Zen I zink first dyou moost go through me.”

The air crackled with power, with magic. Voldemort scowled and drew his wand. But Severus could see the boy’s face and it shocked him more than anything he had yet seen.

Farid was smiling even more widely and his eyes were alight with elation. His boy, his sweet, compliant Farid, was looking forward to the battle ahead; the boy had grown up, he was no longer a child and he was more than ready to fight to defend Severus, to defend them all from evil.



* Marcus Tullius Cicero did exist; as did Tiro; their story is true, don’t know if they were really wizards, though!

Gorse is more commonly known as "whin" and it is indeed known as the 'kissing bush'