Snape decided to begin with Potter. The boy was tense at the best of times. It would be better for him not to know what was happening next and to undergo rather than to watch it.

He took a last sip of his coffee, having eaten breakfast while his boys had accustomed themselves to their places. As the tray of empty dishes and cups disappeared, he walked over to his bed. There, at the nearer side, he opened a hidden drawer and rummaged around in it. Using his body to hide what he was doing, Snape slipped a couple of items into his trouser pockets. He was still in shirt sleeves, having decided that some informality was required for the next part of his agenda.

He did allow them to see him pick up the bottle of oil that both lads had used in the previous day's masturbation session and tuck it into his waistband. They really would have to learn to hide their emotions a little better. Ah, how interesting! Malfoy's cock was already paying attention. Not much, but enough for Snape to understand that Malfoy would be the more able to accept his plans.

Potter, of course, was a different matter.

He strolled amiably over to the boy. With a smile, he took his time inspecting the body stretched out for his perusal. "Very nice, Mr. Potter. One expects Mr. Malfoy's body to reflect his facial beauty, but yours is somewhat a treat. The way you hold yourself... It's almost as though you don't remember that you actually have a body. And it's such a beautiful one." His hand reached out to stroke – oh so lightly – the smooth skin, the now pebbly nipples, the taut abdomen.

Potter glared scornfully at him. It really was quite easy to read his opinion on the matter.

"Yes, you are. Beautiful." Snape purposely deepened his voice: he had noted Potter's response to that. And, yes, there was a definite twitch to the beautifully-formed cock that he knew would taste delicious when he finally permitted himself that treat.

Potter shook his head and, suddenly, Snape felt saddened that the boy truly believed he wasn't.

"You are, you know." He gentled his voice, looking into the boy's eyes. He could see varied emotions warring in those bottle-green eyes. Until the boy learnt to control those, especially the anger, he was handing Voldemort an extra weapon in this battle of theirs.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy is an example of classic beauty. His bone structure, his colouring are the product of centuries of carefully breeding and planning. He looks, for instance, quite fragile, doesn't he? Slender, in spite of all the Quidditch he plays. Musculature is only slightly developed. But we both know that there is steel under all that velvety skin. And a ferocious determination to be on the winning side. Fortunately, for..." He saw the denial in those eyes before the word left his lips so he quickly changed it, "us all, he has decided that ours is to be victorious."

Malfoy made a noise that would have been one of his scoffs, had his mouth not been filled. Snape laughed softly.

"Now, you, on the other hand, have a rougher beauty. More edgy. But it is beauty nonetheless. Long, tight lines. In a fairly compact frame that is attractive to the discerning eye. And I find that I am rather proud that it belongs to me."

There was definite shock in those eyes now. Snape stroked a long finger up and down the boy's jaw as he wanted to deny that fact.

"As Mr. Malfoy's also belongs to me."

The eyes flickered over his shoulder to Malfoy. Snape didn't need to turn around to know that Potter's shock would be reflected in a pair of stormy grey eyes.

"Look at me, Harry." The sound of the boy's name coming from his mouth was enough to get his attention back. "We are here not just so that you and Draco can learn to trust each other. You are here because it has been determined that the only way either of you will ever do so is if you submit yourselves to someone stronger. Once, Albus would have been the one to take you both on. He certainly had the strength and the power, the knowledge to do so."

Snape paused: Albus certainly had had when he'd taken a young, bitter Death Eater, who, had it gotten out, would have been facing certain execution for his betrayal of his brethren, and bond the younger man to him.

"But he feels he is too old to do so. Moreover, he has other concerns these days. He decided that I should be the one so honoured." Snape smiled, almost at sympathy with Harry's fascinated horror. "I must admit, to both of you, that I wasn't very happy with his decision, but now I find that I shall be very pleased to own two such beautiful boys."

He stepped around Harry to stand behind him, able to watch Draco from over his shoulder. Draco's eyes were as wide and as horrified as were Harry's. Would probably be a little more so by the time this was over.

Snape reached up and rested his hands on top of Harry's fisted ones. "You will learn to accept and even hunger for my touch." Harry's head shook from side to side with real emotion. Snape smiled as he drew his hands slowly down the up-stretched arms. "Yes, you will, Harry, for I will bring you pleasure. And comfort. And I will provide you with haven from your fears."

He brought his hands down the now-sweaty armpits, his fingers stroking the dark brown hairs, spreading the wetness evenly in the hollows before taking some with him as he skimmed his hands forward to cover the pecs. Draco's eyes were just about bugging out as he splayed his hands to cover the rib cage, the diaphragm, the stomach before returning up the sides to claim the territory of Harry's back.

"And in return, you will be mine. All of you. Mine to use. Mine to train. Mine to keep safe. Mine to heal should you get hurt."

His hands cupped the twitching buttocks, slipped around hips to the groin where he took hold of cock and balls. "Mine to me, Harry. Until I release you." Letting go, he crouched as his hands slipped down the muscular thighs and calves to stroke the high-arched feet standing on tip-toe. Then he stood again, trailing back to the arse and its untouched hole.

"You will pleasure yourself when I tell you, pleasure your conjoint when I tell you. But you and he may not come unless I permit it. For your cum and your arse belong to me."

He'd taken the bottle of oil and opened it. Lubricating a finger generously, he rotated the tip of it in the boy's arsehole. The boy jerked forward, sounds of anger and protest coming from the gagged mouth. Snape reached around and splayed his left hand against the boy's groin, holding him still. With a few softly spoken words, the bounds tightened, permitting Harry even less movement than he'd had.

Harry now practically immobile, Snape returned his attention to the boy's arsehole. As expected it tightened, forbidding him entry. "No, Harry. You may not deny me. You belong to me, all of you, including this part of your body. Most especially this part of your body and all it signifies."

He pressed lightly, not battling his way in, but easing until the boy's protests had no effect. In to the first knuckle, he allowed his finger to rest there until the boy was used to the intrusion then he increased the pressure until, millimetre by millimetre, he claimed what was his.

The boy was tight. Far too tight. From tension, from the fact that he was a virgin. Snape took his time. The boy tried but wasn't able to expel the finger. Snape patiently waited until he stopped trying. It wasn't capitulation – not this quickly – but Snape sensed that Harry had decided to fight another time.

Pity this was only the beginning.

Snape withdrew the finger slightly and then pushed it back in. Back and forth until it moved with a certain ease. Then he released his hold on Harry's groin and re-oiled his fingers. This time, he worked at inserting two into the boy's hole, knowing that he needed Harry more open in order to accomplish the next part.

He used his left hand to caress the boy's cock and play with his balls. There was only a little response, as though Harry was denying his body the right to respond. Snape smiled to himself: the boy would learn.

He pushed his fingers in far enough so that when he crooked them...

Harry froze stiffly, his gasp audible even with the gag in his mouth.

Draco shifted his attention from Potter to Snape and then back to Potter. The Gryffindor's eyes had widened as though he'd been hit by some curse and then they'd closed, his body sagging, his cock rising. What the hell was Snape doing that Potter was acting like that?

Then he remembered something he'd read in one of those tomes his father had kept secreted away in his bedroom. He'd snuck in one summer's day when he'd been about twelve and his father away on some errand for Voldemort. He'd heard about his father's ‘special collection' when he'd eavesdropped on some very relieved drinking that had followed a Voldemort meeting. Macnair had asked to see his father's latest acquisition and Lucius had refused, saying it was still by his bedside and that it would remain there until it bored him. From Goyle Pater's comments, Draco had concluded that the contents were rather unacceptable.

He'd found the book that day. The pictures had repelled him at first. Then interested him. Then beguiled him. Then instructed him. There'd been some writing with the pictures, offering direction. Draco had decided, by the end of his summer's reading – it had taken several occasions to complete the tome – that he'd be interested in having someone go down on him, but as for the other thing, that looked far too intrusive... Okay, far too messy for his fastidiousness. Besides, it looked like hard work and Draco was constitutionally against hard work.

What was that thing called? The part that, according to the writer, you were supposed to find deep within your...bedmate. Pros something or other? Prostrate? No, couldn't be that. What was it called? Hell, he should have paid more attention to that horrible lecture Hooch had given in Third Year, about "your body and loving it".

Prostate! That was it!

The pleasure bud. The sweet spot. The nub of joy.

Well, by whatever name Snape referred to it, if that was what he was manipulating, Potter seemed to have had a change of mind. His cock was slowly straining upwards and his head appeared to be too heavy for his neck.

Maybe he should have paid a little more attention to that part of his reading.

Harry couldn't believe the feelings shooting through him. Like the time Dudsley had had him stick the metal knitting needle into the socket. But those had hurt while these... Oh, god!

The sex that he'd been subjected to had so far been pretty much the kind of stuff he'd already experienced. He liked having his cock sucked. He liked jerking himself off, in the privacy of his bed. In the prefects' bathroom, whenever he'd snuck in, using Ron's password. So far, what had been going on was weird but not all that strange.

This was more than strange. This was fucking perversion! He should be outraged. Not getting hard. He wasn't queer. He couldn't be queer and nothing, certainly not this god-awful, wonderful feeling was going to turn him queer.

Oh, god! Not queer! He didn't need that on top of everything!

Snape didn't need Legilimency to feel the boy battling within himself. Before long, he would need to get to the bottom of that, but right now...

He pulled out his fingers, accompanied by a muffled growl that was more frustration than indignation. Calling up a small cloth, he spelled his fingers clean as he wiped them.

"You need to be stretched more before I can claim your arse without hurting you, Harry." He came to stand in front of his boy, at an angle so that Draco could see what he was doing. From his trouser pocket, he pulled out, "This is called a butt plug, Harry. I'm starting with a small one, but this will be changed regularly for a larger one until I know I can penetrate you with some ease."

He looked over at Draco whose eyes were opened wide in disbelief. Yes, he supposed to a novice, the plug did look bigger than it actually was. Harry was back to horrified and his cock deflated rather quickly.

Snape took his time oiling the plug, knowing that he was going to have to use his fingers to open Harry up again, but this was something both lads would soon grow accustomed not only to seeing, but to wearing as well.

"Your arses belong to me, both of them. Once in you, I shall spell your plugs to be removed only by myself." He smiled at both of them. "You'll get used to them. You may even grow to accept them as part of you. Because you will have to wear them unless I give some special dispensation. Until I decide that they are no longer necessary."

With a nod to Harry, he went around him and quickly re-opening him with his fingers, setting about to stimulate his prostate once more. Once Harry's cock was showing that at least part of him was responding favourably to the internal pressure, Snape eased the butt plug in, taking time and care not to hurt or tear delicate tissues.

"There. It's in, Harry. Not all that difficult, now was it? If you squeeze your muscles...like you're trying not to shit...you may find it can give some pleasure."

Snape came around to be hit with a full glare of honest hatred mixed with embarrassment. He shook his head. "There's nothing you can do about it, Harry. Best learn to get used to it." He smiled amiably at his lad. "It may help to know that Draco will also be wearing one just like that for as long as I deem necessary as well."

And with a quick stroke or two to encourage the boy's cock, he went to deal with Draco.

Draco didn't know which he was more: embarrassed or horrified.

There he was, kneeling...and trying, with some difficulty, to get comfortable with that...that thing up his arse.

Hell, his father had had a little talk with him when he'd been about thirteen, about sexuality and the Malfoy way of dealing with it.

It had been made clear to him that fooling around with boys was accepted practice so long as it was discreet; that one married a female chosen to maintain family standards and to keep the line going; and that one could return to boys – discreetly! – once a male heir had been properly produced.

And that, in no uncertain terms, did a Malfoy take it up the arse.

"Malfoys top," had pronounced his father. "They never bottom."

Draco wriggled as his arse settled a little too heavily on his heels – Snape had bound their ankles together again. Since he'd officially rejected everything his father stood for, he supposed this was just another to add to that list.

He had been rather taken aback when Snape's fingers had begun playing inside him. Had he known...

But, no, he hadn't and, anyways, what would he have done about it?

Goyle and Crabbe had made it clear they didn't mind sucking him off, but that anything else was off limits.

Draco managed a snicker from behind his gag. Snape had changed those, his and Potter's, back into a regular one so that their jaws wouldn't ache so. Potter, also trying to find a position that didn't bring the outer end of the butt plug in contact with any kind of pressure, glared at him. Yeah, well, no, he doubted that Potter would understand why he was finding this suddenly quite funny!

They all thought of Goyle and Crabbe as his cronies, his minions, his bodyguards, who would do anything he told them to. Like bloody hell! They had been his wardens, chosen by his father to stick close to him, to report back anything and everything he did and said. When he'd begun to be interested in doing more than masturbate, they had offered to service him. Offered, on their own fathers' instructions, in order to keep him under control. To keep him ‘pure' for...what? Draco never really knew. Not for some female who would be chosen for her genetical contribution to the Malfoy line.

It had been one of the things that he'd added to the Negative Side when he'd drawn up a mental list of why he should come over to Dumbledore's side. Snape had been right, though: on the Plus Side had been their potential of winning. Well, he hoped so. Just because the Dark Lord was...was so scarey. How could his father truly believe that if the Dark Lord won, Malfoys would be safe? The...the creature – because, Merlin knew, though he'd reformed using some of Potter's blood, that hadn't ‘humanized' him in the least – the Creature trusted no one. Even he, Draco, could figure that out easily enough. Even though, according to his father, he was stupid at the best of times.

Until their fathers had ordered them all back home after the All Hallow's Eve feast, to take the Dark Mark, Goyle and Crabbe had been his only sexual experience. After he'd refused to join them and claimed sanctuary at Hogwarts, that had been it for Draco's sex life. In spite of what he'd told Snape and Potter.

Man had his pride after all, and pride was all he had left. Left to hide behind.

Fuck that frigging prophecy! That stupid bitch, Trelawney, would pick the only time in the year she came down from her tower to join the same All Hallow's Eve feast to have another of her true, prophetic spells! In the Great Hall, filled with students and staff. No way of keeping it quiet.

The Sword of Godric will be safeguarded by the Hunting Peregrine, flying at his back...

And other such crap. They'd all laughed.

Even he had found it funny until he'd remembered the ancient, faded warrior's shield in the upper gallery of Malfoy Manor. With its falcon, wings spread, beak open, talons ready to claw flesh. And as he'd remembered, he found Snape's eyes on him, also remembering. As his father would when word got back to him. Merlin knew what would happen to Draco then!

That had weighed heavily on the Plus Side, tipping the balance in its favour. He'd managed to sneak out of the Great Hall without his guards, to wait, hiding, near the Headmaster's gargoyle. At least, Dumbledore hadn't laughed at him when he'd asked for sanctuary.

He forgot and sat back on his heels. The plug wriggled in him, catching him by surprise. His cock indicated interest and Draco sighed. Fat chance of that happening anytime soon. Not with the way Snape was ignoring them.

While Snape had been reading the latest report on Voldemort's movements and tactics, he had surreptitiously kept an eye on his brats as they had knelt there, hands bound behind their backs, trying hard not to rest their filled arses on the backs of their feet. Draco seemed to have managed it better than Harry, who was naturally restless at the best of times. All that nervous energy.

Well, time to see how they would accept the next plug.

Snape set the report down, sat back in his chair, which became armless once again. "Harry." He released the ankle fetters and beckoned the boy with a finger. And waited.

Harry suddenly stilled and waited in turn until Snape gestured again. His eyes swung nervously to Draco who was watching him with no less intensity. Snape wondered which of them remembered that as he did to one, he did to the other. Draco had already been punished once because of Harry. Would Harry push the situation again?

No. And yes. The boy slowly,very slowly, found his feet. He stood there longer than Snape knew it had taken his legs to adjust to the change in position. Damn, the boy couldn't just do as he was asked, could he? No, his brat had to push, no matter the consequences.

With a stern glare, Snape indicated yet again that he wanted Harry to come to him.

Harry actually seemed to be thinking about it. Then, something in Snape's eyes must have told him that he had pushed beyond Snape's patience because he finally took the steps that brought him up to the chair.

With a look that promised reprisal for this display of hard-headedness, Snape pulled the boy down onto his knees.

Snape knew that he couldn't expect Harry to lie still so he spelled the bounds to hold him steady for the exchange.

With a word, the spell keeping the plug in place was released and Snape gently eased it out. He slipped an oiled finger up the boy's arse, just to confirm that all was well. And while he did so, Snape paid special attention to the boy's prostate, ensuring that his cock responded to the stimulation.

If Draco had been horrified by the size of the first plug, he didn't bother to hide his response at the second. Not that it was much bigger, but it was longer. Snape caught the flash of stunned disbelief in the grey eyes and nearly laughed. So the lad thought the width and length were exaggerations, did he? Wait until he saw the next one!

Meanwhile, Harry had decided to fight the spell holding him still. Snape shook his head slightly. It was this innate stubbornness in the face of facts that made him such a challenge to Voldemort. Would probably be one of the reasons they'd win, if...when they did.

But there was a time to stop being pigheaded vis-à-vis certain facts and this was one of them.

He was the master here, not this brat of a boy who lived, it seemed, only to challenge him on everything. That kind of energy needed to be directed at Voldemort, no one else.

Snape settled the new plug deep into the boy's arse and released the bounds holding him, just enough for him to wriggle.

"You need to learn obedience, Harry. This habit you have of questioning any order of mine is not good." He stroked circles over the tight muscles of Harry's arse. "Beautiful arse, you have, my Harry. But it's a little too white for my taste." He raised his bare hand and brought it down, hard, on a pale cheek. Immediately, the imprint of his hand flared up red on the tight canvas.

With another wave of his hand, the gag loosened and fell to the floor. "Please, let me know when you've decided to do as I ask, Harry." And he brought his hand down just as hard on the other cheek.

He had to give the boy credit: he kept his response to the occasional gasp and unintentional wriggle. At first. But then Snape altered the target of his hand and, now and then, the blow landed in such a way as to shift the plug.

The result was a mixture of pain and pleasure that caused Harry to moan/groan and his cock to harden against Snape's thigh.

And it caused Draco's to harden as well. Snape caught the boy's response from the corner of an eye as he worked his way to reddening Harry's arse to a uniform colour. As he returned his full concentration onto Harry, Snape filed Draco's reaction in his mind under ‘interesting and useful'.

Harry finally found his voice. The curses that echoed in the Chamber were Muggle-based and often repeated. Really, the boy had very little imagination in that area. Snape didn't doubt that Draco's would be far more colourful when it was his turn, if only because Lucius had himself used a wide assortment.

His hand hurt. If he was not deluding himself, a blister was forming from where the palm regularly hit the end of the plug. With a few words of healing, Snape took care that he would be able to continue for some longer time. Damn, this wasn't personal vanity on his part: the boy had to learn to act when Snape told him to. Their lives...Harry's life...might depend on it.

Bloody hell, when had the boy learnt to be so immune to physical pain? What the fuck had those Muggles done to him? He was definitely going to deal with them and he might not wait until Voldemort was defeated.

Snape was beginning to think the boy might just outlast him after all when Harry broke. "All right," he sobbed, "you win."

Snape held his hand back, inches from its target. The amount of heat rising from the reddened flesh caught his attention. He settled his hand on the small of the boy's back and asked, calmly, belying his near loss, "What do I win, Harry?"

The boy's head hung down and he sniffled loudly. Snape slipped a hand under his chest and raised it enough so that the boy wouldn't choke on his own tears and snot. Harry gulped, getting his sounds under control.

Snape brought his hand down again. Harry yelped and whimpered. "I'm waiting, Harry. By now, you must have realised that I don't like to wait."

His voice rough with withheld tears, Harry choked out, "I'll do what you ask."

"Yes, you will. But when, Harry? When?"

"When...when you ask it."

"Now are you certain about that?"

There were some more sniffles, a thick snort of a rather disgusting kind, and then Harry muttered, "Yes." Then, to Snape's utter amazement, he added, "On one condition." The urge to begin the spanking over again was controlled only due to the fact that Snape's hand and shoulder muscles ached. Taking his time tracing concentric lines on Harry's quivering arse with a fingernail, Snape finally asked, his voice as sarcastic as he could make it, "And just what might this one condition be?"

Harry twisted his head so that he could watch Snape's face over his shoulder. "That Draco not be punished for...what I did."

Snape snorted softly: damn Gryffindor honour! "That wasn't the deal, Harry. I made it very clear at the beginning that as I did to one, I did to the other."

"It's not fair..."

Snape allowed an eyebrow to rise high. "When is life fair, Harry? You, of all people, should know the answer to that."

"He's Slytherin, not Gryffindor. You should be doing what you can to protect him."

Snape allowed the boy to slip off his lap to his knees. Gently, he brushed the hair of the boy's face, Accio'ed a handkerchief from the drawer under his bed and used it to wipe Harry's face. After dealing with the boy's nose, Snape slipped a finger under Harry's chin and tilted his head so that they looked at each other.

"I fully intend to protect Draco, not just because he is one of my House and I am bound to protect any of my House. But because he has come over to us in full faith. He's put his life in our hands, Harry, and it is our responsibility – yours and mine – to keep him safe. Just as it is his and mine to keep you safe.

"That is why what happens down here is so important. It is impossible for you to defeat Tom Riddle by yourself, Harry. Here, in the Chamber, when you met Riddle, you needed help. You had Fawkes and Godric's Sword. They were enough then to help you with that task, but had they been enough, we would not now be waiting for Voldemort and his army to move."

He looked up to find Draco watching them both, eyes intent. Snape smiled at the boy.

"Draco was already thinking of defecting to us long before Sibyll's little drama. Did you know that, Harry?"

Harry glanced over at Draco, who nodded slightly, as though embarrassed.

"And you do need his help. Not just because Sibyll says so. Because you can't do it alone. And you shouldn't have to. We need you focused on what you can do, not worried about what's happening around you. That is what Draco and I are for. But you need to trust us for that, Harry. You need to listen when I tell you to do something, to do it immediately, not to waste precious time thinking about it, wading through the pros and cons. We simply don't have the luxury of that time."

Harry swallowed loudly, his eyes meeting and holding Snape's. Damn, the boy had courage. Thank Merlin he did!

"And how is punishing him for what I do going to make him trust me?"

Snape cocked his head. "How is your continually pushing the limits going to make me trust you?"

Draco wriggled uncomfortably on Snape's lap. Unlike Harry, he didn't fight what was coming, only braced himself. He doubted very much that he would last anywhere near as long as Harry had. Damn, it had been scarey, watching that hand come down, relentlessly, Snape's face colder than he had ever seen it. And Harry, just taking it.

At first, it had turned him on. The sound of the hand coming down on solid flesh, the skin reddening, the muffled moans. He'd had no idea why his cock had found that so interesting. Maybe... He winced at the feel of the plug being pulled out. Would he ever get used to it? Probably would have to, if Snape was to be believed. He flexed his arse muscles as Snape's finger entered him. Oh, damn, but that felt good! His cock really liked this. Hell, so did he!

And that second finger... If he pushed back just a little... Oh, shit, that felt soooo good!

And if he pushed down a little more, he could rub his cock against Snape's woolen trousers...

Maybe Harry didn't like the idea of being queer, but it had never really bothered Draco. Some of the Slytherins slept with girls, some with boys, and some with both. Maybe if he hadn't been Slytherin, he might have been attracted to girls, but since in his House they were either dogs like Bulstrode or cold bitches like his mother...

Oh, fuck, Snape had removed his fingers and was slipping in that monster plug. Not the same nice feeling. More of a filling than anything pleasurable.

Oh...he took that back. Whatever Snape was doing with the plug, wriggling it the way he was, it hit the right button.

When he thought of all the time he'd wasted, believing his father. Not just about their place in the scheme of things, but this...

He was beginning to wonder what it would be like to have Snape's cock up his arse. It would be hard, like the plug no doubt. More flexible, he hoped. Flexible enough to provide some of the same pleasure Snape's fingers did.

But now the plug was in completely and Snape was muttering the words that would keep it there until he decided otherwise. Knowing what was coming next, Draco tightened his arse and waited for the hand to descend.

Oh, SHIT!

He'd thought the belt and that bloody paddle had prepared him for this, but...Merlin, that hurt!

How the hell had Harry managed to stand what had seemed to be hours of this? The pain radiated outward, shooting up his spine like a flash of lightning. By the third blow, he was ready to capitulate, to concede anything and everything if Snape would only stop!

Oh, damn, he'd hit the plug! Oh, Merlin! His cock couldn't decide whether to blow up or just plain withdraw inside his balls.

Ah, get harder. That's what it had decided to do. Oh, bloody hell...

Harry hadn't responded like this when Snape had beat him. His cock had hardened, but it hadn't seemed to be enjoying the whole scene the way Draco's did. With every downbeat, by not fighting back against the impulse, his body shifted forward just enough so that his cock rubbed against Snape's thigh. The world devolved into a confusing medley of pain/pleasure/pain/pleasure. His arse burnt but his cock whimpered for more attention.

And then it stopped. Just like that. And Draco didn't know whether to cheer or weep with frustration.

Snape released him and allowed him to slip to his knees. He used a handkerchief – thankfully a clean one: like Draco would have wanted Harry's snot all over his face – to wipe the tears, to hold to his nose so he could blow. His cock bobbed, demanding similar attention, but Draco knew better than to appease it. Now that the pleasurable part had stopped, he was extremely aware of the pain in his arse.

Snape looked down at his cock and smiled, a little sympathetically Draco liked to think.

"I think you should go over and thank Harry for his excellent defense of your arse, Draco."

Draco looked over at the other boy, who was as surprised by all this as he was. After his ordeal, Snape had sent Harry to kneel so that he could watch. But he hadn't spelled the pain of the spanking away and Harry was on his knees, trying not to let his arse come into contact with anything. His face was drawn and Draco could make out the still-wet lines of his tears on his cheeks.

Checking once more at Snape for permission, Draco ignored his patently disappointed cock, got to his feet and took the few steps to Harry. He knelt in front of him and took the time to look deep into the eyes of this rival of his, this boy he'd hated since the first day because he'd rejected his offer of friendship. His father had torn a strip off him that Yule when he'd had to admit that the Boy Who Lived and he were not bosom pals. Thinking about it, he'd have preferred a beating like Harry had just endured to his father's lashing words.

Harry waited, just meeting his eyes. The first thought that flashed through Draco was that they were old, Harry's eyes. Older than his years. Stoic. Shit, those stories about how he'd lived before he'd come to Hogwarts... Draco had always pooh-poohed them as unfounded rumours. As Harry seeking to garner attention and sympathy to him. But these last few days... How else could he stand what Snape was doing to him?

And they were tired, his eyes.

And Draco suddenly wondered what it must be like to know that the fate of their world rested on the shoulders of someone who was no older than he was.

He raised his hand and slowly brushed the sodden hair off Harry's cheek. He didn't know what made him do it, but he leaned over and brushed his lips across the beard-roughened skin of the exposed cheek. A new experience for him: he'd never kissed a man before. He found he liked it so he did it again. And when his mouth neared Harry's ear, he spoke softly, "Thank you, Harry."

His arse hurt a lot less than Harry's and he had no trouble other than a momentary flare of pain when he sat back on his heels. Harry was looking at him as though he had never seen him before. Awkwardly, he brought his hand up to his own face, his fingertips skimming the path Draco's lips had traced. He bit his lower lip and Draco could see the confusion in those eyes that had never left him. "I...I'm sorry, Draco. I'll try not to let that happen again."

Draco nodded, as serious as Harry was. "Me, too. For the disobedience." Then he smiled as he leaned forward and whispered, only for Harry, "But not for the kiss."

Snape rested a shoulder against one of Salazar's snakes and watched his brats. He was once more reminded of the resilience of youth. Maybe it was a good thing that Voldemort had forgotten what it was like to be seventeen.

Peace was holding. Something had happened between his brats, a new line of connection come about because of Gryffindor ethics. Slytherins, even if others didn't think so, had a value system as rigid and as moral as any other House's, but that preoccupation with fairness was not part of it.

Life was not fair. Snape had had his nose rubbed into that lesson continually throughout his life, so he never expected it to be. Draco had been brought up to expect all things to come to him merely because he was a Malfoy. Of course, life could not be fair to others as they didn't have that advantage. But only a Gryffindor who had known so little fairness in his life would still expect it to exist.

Mind, right now, both of his boys were united in their feeling that he was totally unfair to them.

He'd handed Draco the jar of desensitising ointment and told him to use it on Harry's arse. Harry had lain under Draco's fingers, allowing himself the relief of soft moans as Draco gently treated his abused flesh.

And it had been abuse, Snape reminded himself brutally. He had had a point to make and he'd gone about it wrong with this particular brat. Draco, he now knew, would respond well to a spanking. He wouldn't need to go long with that brat to get the co-operation he would require. He would be able to use it as punishment and, eventually, if he read his brat correctly, as reward. But Harry? Bloody hell, he had to find another way of getting through to the boy. Towards the end of his beating, Snape could feel the Death Eater in him rise, taking pleasure in the boy's pain, and he loathed that part of himself.

No, he would have to pay closer attention to his Gryffindor and find another way of chastising him because he had no illusions about the boy. Right now he was compliant, but for how long?

After Draco had done treating Harry, Snape had conjured up a pile of books for them.

"Arithmancy? These are my arithmancy books!"

"Divinations. Runes. Oh, no!"

"What?"

"Bagshot's History of Magic."

Snape hadn't bothered to hide his grin at the duet of groans. "I've gone over your reports and there are some subjects which require more work on your parts if you wish to do well in your NEWTs."

"But those are six months away!"

The grin had changed into a glare and both boys were resigned to their fate, though not without some additional mutters.

"Why not Charms and Spells? I need the work there."

"Potions. He's right here. He could take the time to explain..."

At another glare, they had returned to their pallets with books, scrolls and quills. Pallets which had somehow, over time – gradually – magically? – moved so that they were now close enough that one head could lean over to read the other's work and make suggestions.

Snape wondered at the co-operation and how long it would last. Still, it was a moment to treasure, that dark head next to the pale one, faces less tense, minds involved. And there were minds there. Under Harry's disheveled hair. Behind Draco's mask of a face. Both needed to focus far more on their studies than Quidditch.

Snape sighed softly to himself. He hated Quidditch. He was awkward at best on a broomstick, unlike these two who flew like birds. But they needed the Quidditch as well. To keep their bodies fit for what was to come. As an outlet for their competitiveness. Because that would never change.

He would give them the rest of the afternoon to study. There had been Yule assignments handed out and they did need to get those done. It would be a relief to them all to focus on other matters.

Snape settled in his chair and began working on a list of international scientists like himself, who might be called upon in time of need. He was not the only Master who preferred to keep away from the world about him in some dungeon or some isolated workshop. Though many of his kind were up-to-date with the goings on in Britain, as many were not. Who could be approached for help with information or potions? For support? Which would remain neutral and which would betray them if they were contacted?

Supper was taken quietly. Not because Snape had asked for it, but because his brats were still working away on their assignments and he on his lists. He even allowed them to feed themselves for the first time since their arrival in the Chamber.

Snape waited until Draco had finished his arithmancy scroll to announce it was time for bed. To his pleasant surprise, there were no protests of any kind. His brats remained very still when he removed their plugs, allowing them to use the loo, to shower. Though, when Snape indicated it was time for the next plug to be inserted, Harry did noticeably stiffen. Still, all he did was sigh loudly before taking the required position on Snape's lap. Which Snape rewarded with care not to stimulate the boy's cock – he'd noted that the boy was embarrassed by his body's response to that – and a softly spoken, "Very well done, Harry," when he released him.

The boy caught the moue he was about to make with his mouth and merely nodded.

Gryffindor courage must be exhausting, thought Snape as he signaled Draco to assume the position. Who indicated that he might be interested in a little more attention with a slight wriggling of his arse when Snape's hand rested on it. Snape gave said arse a light slap. "Behave yourself, brat. Not tonight."

And got a cheeky grin tossed over a shoulder at him: Slytherins had their own brand of courage.

But Gryffindors, as they found out several hours later, also had nightmares.

As he had on the other ‘nights', Snape lay on his bed dressed. He was beginning to wish he didn't have to do so. Not that he expected his brats to try anything – they'd learnt that there was no escape – but one never knew. Other than casting the usual spell around his bed that would warn him if anyone tried to approach, he decided not to bother with Morpheus. Besides, he always slept with his wand in hand or near enough, a habit he'd developed even before he'd come to Hogwarts as a student.

So that when a howl of terror filled the Chamber, he sprang out of bed, immediately awake, wand in hand ready to take on whatever it was.

He cast a lighting spell and checked the area about to find Draco sitting up on his pallet, eyes wide open and staring in the direction from which the noises were coming. Snape panned his wand, by now not all that surprised to find Harry, curled up in a tight foetal position on his pallet, whimpering and weeping.

He glanced over at Draco, assuring himself that at least one brat was all right, as he slipped his wand into his shirt sleeve and carefully approached the one who wasn't.

"Harry?"

Only more of those tight, painful sobs.

He knelt by the boy's bed, visually checking that he wasn't hurt in any way. "Harry, wake up, lad. It's all right. You can wake up."

The boy finally muttered some words that Snape had to lean over to catch. Oh, bloody... His breath caught a moment then he sat back on his heels. Of all things to be dealing with, he'd never thought...

"It's all right, Harry. Cedric..." What could he say, that the boy was fine? Hell, he was dead and Harry had seen him die. "You brought him back, Harry. He's safe now. Open your eyes, Harry. Look at me and wake up."

Eventually, some of what he was saying must have gotten through the boy's nightmare because his eyes did open, his head moved just enough for Snape to see into those eyes. And then to wish he hadn't. He recognised the expression in them all too well. He'd seen it so often in his own eyes at a certain time in his life that he'd taught himself to avoid looking into mirrors. Moreover, the glazed sheen of this particular stare told him that Harry was probably still asleep. And silently weeping.

Snape took great care as he slowly allowed his hand to rest on the boy's hunched up shoulder. "It's all right, Harry. Listen to me," he kept his voice gentle yet spoke with authority, "you need to wake up now." And he gave the shoulder a slight shake.

"He's dead."

Harry's voice grew chills up his spine.

Snape forced his voice into calm, soothing tones. "Yes, he is."

"I killed him."

Snape heard the smothered gasp from the other bed but ignored it for the boy at hand. "No, you didn't. Harry, wake up."

"I ki...killed...him." This time, the weeping grew audible and Snape reached out and pulled the cold body to him, wrapping his arms around his sobbing brat. He held him tight to his chest, murmuring words that Snape knew couldn't soothe this pain Harry carried within him. Gradually the timbre of the sobs changed and Snape knew that Harry was finally awake.

"So...sorry."

Snape rested his cheek on the rat's nest that was Harry's head. "Nothing to be sorry about, Harry. We all have nightmares."

His voice rough from his weeping, Harry asked, "Did I scream the roof down?"

"Do you usually?"

The head against his shoulder nodded. "I..." Harry coughed to clear his throat. "I usually cast a silencing spell around my bed."

Snape felt a small flame of anger flicker to life in his belly. Damn it all to hell! Seventeen year old boys cast those so that they could masturbate in private, not keep the screams of their nightmares to themselves!

But anger wouldn't help Harry right now: Snape kept it out of his voice. "Is it always the same dream?"

Harry pushed against him, not much, enough so that Snape knew the boy didn't want to be held any longer. He let him go, reluctantly. The boy was far too used to dealing with this on his own: it would take time for him to understand that he wasn't alone any more.

"That makes me scream? Sometimes. Sometimes it..." Harry looked at him with a certain wariness, which warned Snape, "it's Sirius and the Veil." His sudden smile was anything but sweet. "I guess you could say they're about people I've killed."

"Harry!" Snape reached for the boy, a bad move. Harry scrabbled back in the tangle that was his bed.

"Sorry I woke you. Maybe you should cast Morpheus on me while we're here."

Snape hated the frustration that rose in him. Why the hell hadn't Dumbledore thought of this? "Harry, you didn't kill Cedric. You didn't kill Black."

Harry shook his head slightly. "I'm the reason they're dead. Maybe I didn't hold the wand that killed them, but they're dead because of me." His sigh of resignation scared Snape. "And how many others that I don't know of?"

"Harry, don't let him do this to you."

Snape was startled to realise that he hadn't even been aware when Draco had joined them.

"That's what they'd like, you know."

Draco ignored him for Harry. Snape remained still, hoping the boy would have a better chance of getting through than he did.

"For you to disintegrate on them. He Who..."

Draco stopped and suddenly gave his head a shake. His scoff was barely audible. "Voldemort. Voldemort would like nothing better for you to do his work for him. Don't do it. You didn't kill Cedric, Wormtail did. As for others, well... My father was there when your parents died. I don't know just how involved he was in their deaths. But my aunt Bella killed Black. So, you see," his small laugh was bitter, "you have reason to hate the Malfoys."

Snape sat cross-legged on the floor, his action enough to break the attention between both boys. At this rate, all the good that had been accomplished that day was going to evaporate into greater problems.

"Your father and your aunt," he used his classroom voice, hoping it would bring a sense of the ordinary, hoping it would defuse the tension he could feel building between the two, "were merely the instruments. The only true murderer in all this is Tom Riddle and his insanity." He gave them both his best classroom glare. "We need to remember that, all of us. And we need to remember that you, Draco, took the conscious decision not to be another of his instruments. And that you, Harry, never were."

There was a long silence as his brats thought on that. Harry was still staring at this hands, fisted on the bedding, when he spoke softly. "Are you?"

Stunned silence lay heavy in the Chamber. Snape forced himself to break it. "Am I?"

Harry looked up. "You keep telling us that we're here because we need to learn to trust each other. That we must learn to depend on each other. And you seem to have included yourself in that ‘each other'.

Oh, Merlin! That bloody Gryffindor courage again!

"Yes, I have."

Harry shrugged. "Just like that?"

For a moment, Snape wanted Dumbledore to be here, just so that he could scream at him, ‘I told you so!' But he also wanted to remove the deep discouragement from Harry's face, the wariness from Draco's.

Snape sighed a little. "Would be nice," he admitted, ruefully. "But I don't expect it." He mocked himself. "Easier to ask for than to give. Twenty points to Gryffindor."

They were politely quiet, his brats, while he thought. Merlin! How much of an idiot would he be, expecting a little of that Gryffindor fairness? Why did he never learn?

Snape looked up and met both their eyes, though he addressed Harry only. "You have questions, Harry. Questions you've wanted to ask for a long time. Well, we seem to have reached that time. Ask them, these questions of yours. I'll do my best to answer them. What do you want to know?"

Harry shifted over on his bed, making room for Draco. He slipped a bent leg under the other, easing any pressure that might have existed on the plug. Draco quickly followed suit. Snape realised that they were both settling in for a long session. He waited for what he was certain to be Harry's first question, about his role in the death of his parents.

Instead, what he got took him completely off guard.

"Why did you become a Death Eater?"

Why had he become a Death Eater?

Snape treaded his fingers through his hair as he wondered at the boy's curiosity. He glanced at Draco and saw interest there as well. Probably wondering if he could explain why his father had also been drawn into Voldemort's net.

"Please," whispered Harry. "The truth, not a story."

Snape shrugged. "The truth is fairly easy: I was seventeen, prideful, angry and arrogant in my belief that I could handle any situation that might come my way."

Harry stared down at his hands. "Was the anger because of my father?"

Oh, shit!

Harry looked up, his eyes more serious, older, than Snape had ever seen them. What was that Muggle line, about the sins of the father?

"That part had more to do with what the situations with your father taught me rather than your father per se."

"I don't understand."

Snape chewed on his lower lip as he thought. "The problem with Muggle- bred wizards is that so much that is naturally known to purebloods is not to them."

Harry stiffened.

Snape hurried to counter any attack. "It's just that though you take History of Magic, you learn only the facts of events. There are so many things that are not taught but are known in any wizard family. For example, what do you know about the Snape family?"

Harry had lost the defensive look, so at least the boy was thinking. "Nothing."

Snape nodded. "Well, to understand why I made the choices I did, it would help to know some of the family history." He sent a wry glance at the boys watching him so intently. "Try to stay awake through this history lesson as I have no intentions of repeating it."

Draco chuckled. "Doubt that will be a problem."

Snape smiled back at him. He had no doubt that this boy knew a fair amount of family oral history. The Malfoys were particularly proud of theirs.

Harry grimaced. "I'll stay awake. You're no Professor Binns."

Snape shuddered, "Dear Merlin, I hope not!

"All right then, let me begin by saying that the Snapes are among the very oldest of wizard families in Britain. We go back to the very beginnings of history and probably beyond it. Not like the Malfoys, who came over with William the Bastard. By British standards, they are still Nouveaux Venus."

"And don't think that father doesn't hate it whenever you remind him of it."

Snape shrugged slightly. "Sometimes your father needs to remember just who he is."

He refocused on Harry. "In the early days, Magic was neither dark nor light. It just was. Gradually, there was some specialisation. There was Magic that one used to help one's people, and another to defend them. We were still very tribal back then. And Magic was part of everyone's life. As now, there were some with greater powers and some with none, but the Tribe and its survival was all that was important. Eventually, there were wizards and witches who proved to be better at some Magics than others. But again, that was neither bad nor good: it just was."

Draco occasionally nodded. Yes, the boy would have heard about some of this before: all wizard families had their oral traditions. Harry was sitting silently still, eyes only on Snape, just as obviously hearing this for the first time. Dumbledore should have thought about this kind of thing before dumping the boy on Muggles who hadn't wanted him.

"British Magic has always been more insular. We are an island, with little contact with other peoples for centuries. On the Continent, Magic was progressing in slightly different ways. They had the first schools for Magical training, for example, long before we did. Our traditions were passed down from parent to child, often along with their speciality. Some families were known for their healing powers, others for their ability to work with stone, others for getting the best out of Nature. And yet others for their defensive abilities."

"The Snapes?" ventured Harry.

Snape nodded. "And we got better at it with time. When the Romans arrived, they were not averse to using Magic to their advantage. For example, they used wizards skilled in stone to help build what they called Hadrian's Wall. And they weren't beyond stirring up some rivalry between those with Magic and those without. Wizards and witches have not been great reproducers of their kind, unlike the now-called Muggles, who always had the ability to replicate like rabbits. Our long lives probably compensate for that."

"Unless you're a Weasley," snickered Draco.

Harry opened his mouth to defend his friends, but Snape quickly stepped in. "Yes. There are certain Magical families that have no trouble with producing more than one or two children. The Weasleys are one of them. There are others." He smiled a little at Harry, inviting him to see the humour, "It's just that with all that red hair, they have always been more noticeable than the others. The Blacks, then, were also fairly prolific, but at some point, they chose to intermarry among family and..." He shrugged.

"Meanwhile, the Snapes produced one or two children a generation and became more and more skilled in their particular field of Magic. I say with no false modesty that they have always maintained a certain level of intellectual replication. And a need to innovate, to improve. All of which was greatly appreciated until Christianity arrived on the island and, with it, its prejudices against Magic. The religion of the underclasses, the illiterate, the uneducated. All of whom were afraid of things they couldn't understand and therefore determined to rid the world of them."

"The Purges," whispered Draco. "Father said that they had occurred in France as well."

"Yes, all over the Christian world at some point or other. But there were more places for our people to hide in Europe, areas easier to unplot. Here in Britain, there were fewer. And the Romans had done their work well: non- Magicals were ready to reveal those with Powers, just to save themselves from their own purges. There was a time it was instant death for them to be associated with Magic. One wizard or witch revealed in a village meant that village faced persecution. Villages that the wizards and witches had kept safe and healthy for generations."

He stopped for a moment and slipped his wand from his sleeve. With a few words, a carafe of coffee appeared. "This is going to take longer than I thought," he said, pouring them each a mug.

"So when did it become Dark Magic and Light?" Harry asked, his hands wrapped around his mug.

The boy, Snape noted, was less tense than he had been, his voice curious. When they got out of here, he was going to have a discussion with Dumbledore about the lack of truly important history in Binns's classes.

"Around the 700's. By then, Muggles realised that they needed Magic for cures and other reasons. Those who had specialised in those skills became known as ‘White Witches'. Muggles, for some reason, seemed to think that only women were the carriers of this kind of Magic. We did nothing to discourage that belief. Meanwhile, those of us who still practised defensive Magic, who set wards and spells to safeguard Magical villages and enclaves, were beginning to be looked upon by our kind as necessary ‘evils'."

Draco interjected. "Can't really blame them, you know. Our people attracted the kind of attention that no one wanted."

Snape smiled to himself. So the boy was classing himself on the side of the Dark, was he?

"Yes, they did. As a result, those families isolated themselves even more. And yet the Light needed our services in order to be safe and practise their kind of Magic." He wondered if Harry was following this train of thought.

The boy caught the look and nodded. "And I'd bet that they really resented having to rely on them."

Snape smiled. "Dumbledore's family were very important in the Light faction, even back then."

"Ah. And the Snapes?"

"The Snapes were considered particular even among the Dark families. They collected knowledge. Early volumes, books when those came to be. Oral traditions were one thing, but written knowledge was quite another."

"More dangerous," agreed Harry.

"The Snapes were never a wealthy family. Whatever monies there were were used to augment this collection. Eventually, this knowledge began to frighten even some of the Dark families. The Snapes have never been popular. As a result, few families wanted to marry into it. Once travel became easier, Snapes often went abroad for wives or husbands. It also had the advantage of keeping the bloodlines from deteriorating. Like that of the Blacks."

He waited for Harry to protest, but all he got was, "Madam Black."

Snape nodded as he sipped his coffee.

"Aunt Bella," said Draco.

Snape took up his history lesson. "So, by the time the Founders got together in the late 900's and began talking about a school, strongly warded to ensure safety from Muggle eyes, there were already strong opinions about what should and shouldn't be taught. Salazar Slytherin came from one of those families skilled in the Dark Arts. Most of the defensive wards originally set are his. So, obviously, he wanted the Dark Arts to be included in the curriculum. The others outvoted him: they were afraid that such practices would overcome the wards and spells placed on Hogwarts and thereby annul its purpose.

"You should know that Hogwarts is one of the few of magical institutions of learning where the Dark Arts are not taught as part of the curriculum. Durmstrang you already know about: they begin in first year. Most other schools restrict it to their upper students. Such as Beauxbatons. Over the years, some of the Slytherin Headmasters and Headmistresses have tried to include it in some form, but the Governors have always forced them to retract.

"Which never serves us well whenever we have to deal with Dark Lords. Because all Dark Lords, no matter their country of origin, see the world as theirs. Light Lords, such as Dumbledore, are happy with their own little part of it.

"Which brings us to present times. To Grindelwald."

"The Headmaster helped defeat him," said Harry.

Snape nodded. "Yes. Another of those rare alliances between a Dark Lord and a Muggle, both with plans to take over the world. It cost a lot of lives, both Magical and Muggle, but both were finally defeated. Albus retired from the political world and returned to his post of Transfiguration Master at Hogwarts. I can't say I blame him: he'd lost his wife and sons to the War. Perhaps he should have remarried, but he had truly loved his wife. And I think, having lost one family, he didn't believe he could survive losing a second.

"Still, one would have then thought that Albus, of all people, would have understood the need to deal face on with the Dark Arts. Instead he became even more entrenched in his attitude against them."

He poured himself another coffee. His lads refused any more. Their mugs were on the floor and they leaned slightly in to him, anticipating the next portion of his story.

"During the War against Grindelwald, the Snapes hedged their bets and provided services to both sides."

Harry actually smiled. "So there's a precedence."

Snape shrugged. "Snapes, as I believe I have mentioned, have never been all that popular. As a result, we take care of ourselves first, before anything or anyone else. We have remained on land that has been ours since time immemorial. All those generations of warding and spells have made it impenetrable save to the family and those it invites."

"Father has always wanted an invitation to Snape manor," offered Draco.

Snape snorted. "It's no manor. It's a small house nestled against a mountain on land that is less that hospitable."

"Does it still have its collection?" Harry wanted to know.

Snape thought before carefully answering. "Officially, no, it doesn't."

Harry almost smiled then. "I see."

"I was raised by my grandfather. He inherited me when I was seven."

"Literally?" Draco was fascinated. Harry, of course, didn't understand why.

"Literally."

"Coo," said Draco.

Harry was lost. "Why is that..."

"Important?" Snape thought if anything else, this proved that they really had to add to Binns's curriculum.

"In Magical societies, until the age of eleven, the Age of Magic, children are the property of their father or male guardian. To dispose of as they wish. Once they reach the legal age of Study, they have more rights under Magical Law. Though until they reach seventeen, they cannot make any decision that concerns their future without parental approval."

"So if my parents were still alive and didn't want me to what?...take Devination...they could stop me from doing that?"

Snape nodded. "They could go as far as to forbid you to play Quidditch if they thought it wasn't good for you."

"But...no one stopped me from..."

Snape grimaced a little. "Yes, well, Albus knew that Black, as your godfather would never deny you that, even if he knew your Muggle guardians probably would. Albus, like all good Light Lords, manipulates the rules to what he thinks fit and proper. Of course, when Dark Lords do so..." He left the rest of that thought unspoken.

"My grandfather and father were often on opposite sides of any argument. They were both headstrong and opinionated. Each certain that he was right and the other wrong."

He ignored the raised eyebrows and smiles shared between his brats just then.

"My father sided with Grindelwald. So my grandfather offered his services to Dumbledore, who reluctantly accepted them. My mother, who was from some minor wizardry family in Italy, was horrified by my father's decision. He told her to mind her own business, which was to provide him with an heir. Like many pureblood witches, my mother had a hard time carrying a pregnancy to its end.

"Anyway, after the War, my grandfather's ‘reward' for his help was Albus trying to confiscate the Snape library. Needless to say, much antagonism developed between my grandfather and what he saw as the ungrateful Light. My father's punishment was to go into exile in Italy, a country that permitted him to live there, but on the sufferance of my mother's family. He hated it and them and, eventually, her. So of course I managed to get myself born. The situation was less than pleasant.

"When I was seven, my father got himself killed in some stupid duel with a Sicilian wizard and, at the reading of his Testament, my mother discovered that I had been willed to my grandfather. Probably because he knew my grandfather would hate the responsibility. Because, even if he didn't care to have me, he had no choice. By Law, he had to take me."

Harry looked almost devastated. Having been dumped on people who hadn't wanted him, he was transferring the same feeling as he'd had onto Snape. Snape shook his head, his voice gentle in his contradiction.

"I loved it there. My mother had hovered over me continuously, terrified that something would happen to her only chick. Apart from her immediate family, I wasn't allowed to play with anyone. Her family was old-fashioned enough not to want any child to try his or her Magic until legally acceptable. They didn't even encourage reading beyond what Basic School required. My grandfather wasn't any more social, but he had a library with no restrictions. He allowed me to run wild as it meant he could work on matters of interest to him. And he delighted in knowing that I had Magic of the kind that Snapes were proud of producing in the next generation.

"Against all British rules..." Snape smiled ruefully at his memories. "Not that he ever abided with them. Grandfather found me a wand among his collection. An ancient thing that had been created long before the Ministry relegated the use of them so there was no way to trace its use. And as soon as it was legal, he took me to Gregorovitch – he didn't like Ollivander's work, too Light."

"Which was why when you arrived at Hogwarts," Draco said with a nod, "father said that you knew more hexes and spells than most Seventh Years."

Snape nodded. "Grandfather couldn't afford Durmstrang. And he knew that I wouldn't allow myself to be swayed from my talent by anything Dumbledore would tell me. He died in my Third Year. He left me the house and its contents. Dumbledore wanted me to invite him in so that he could find where grandfather had hidden the library, but I told him that Grandfather had spelled the house to implode should the Headmaster even step foot on the threshold."

"Had he?" asked Draco, enthralled.

Snape shrugged. "He told me he had. Whether that was true or not, Dumbledore knew that I would never break faith with my grandfather. Moreover, with his death, ‘possession' of me had reverted to my mother, who understood better than to try. We met only once after his death and I believe I somewhat frightened her. Probably reminded her too much of my father. What that meant was that, in effect, I was totally on my own. Which I now concede was not a good thing."

"As you know, I was sorted into Slytherin, where the name Snape still possessed a certain cachet. Where my natural tendency to disdain and arrogance was not disparaged. That first day, I was called into the Headmaster's office and informed that I would be carefully watched for any signs of forbidden knowledge. That should I exhibit any such skills, I would be incarcerated immediately at Azkaban. The Headmaster kindly reminded me that my grandfather had no strong political alliances that would prevent that from happening."

"Bloody hell!" muttered Draco.

Harry's mouth opened but nothing came out of it.

Snape reflected. "Years later, Albus revealed that having fought one Dark Lord, he really didn't want another on his hands. At that point, Riddle was only beginning to come to certain people's notice. Albus, concentrating on his world of Hogwarts, wasn't yet aware of that. He thought that with my background, with my skills, my potential of being drawn to the Dark was too strong. He thought by putting the fear of Dementors into my mind, I might be persuaded to remain on the straight and narrow.

"Which I might had it not been for the blatant favouritism he showed his Golden Gryffindors, who could do no wrong. I'm sorry, Harry, but your father and his friend, Black, and I became enemies almost from the very beginning. Somehow they sensed or had been told that I could not reciprocate openly."

"So my father did have something to do with your decision to go over to the Dark."

Snape met Harry's eyes straight on. "I forbid you to assume any feelings of guilt on your father's behalf. Your father was a prat." He didn't wait for Harry's defense. "As we all were at that age. As you were in Fifth Year," he reminded the boy. "Harry, it goes with being male, this pratness. The source of my anger was not that your father and his friends bullied me, but that I was prevented from retaliating in any real way. Because Albus had been right: I was terrified of ending up in Azkaban. And after the Shrieking Shack incident where your godfather set it up that I was nearly killed by Lupin in his werewolf self, I had to add to that anger the fact that I owed your father a life-debt. Rather like your owning Draco one. Probably why your reaction to Sibyll's additional prophecy riled you so much. One doesn't like the thought of owing one's life to someone considered to be an arch enemy."

Harry glanced over at Draco who waited, face expressionless for once, for his comment. "No, you're right. Except that I understand now that Draco may not be the enemy I thought him."

"May not?" Draco said softly.

Harry shrugged. "Slytherins aren't the only ones who are hard-headed."

"I thought Gryffindors prided themselves on their fairness," Draco kept his voice unaccusing, only slightly curious.

Harry shrugged and looked a little sheepish. "Well, the Sorting Hat thought I might belong in Slytherin at first."

Draco checked with Snape as to the veracity of that and actually hooted with laughter when Snape nodded, confirming what Harry had said.

"I thank whatever deity persuaded the Hat to keep you two apart. As rivals, you are barely controllable. As allies...we can but hope that you will be our salvation."

Draco chuckled but Harry was serious again. "So how did we come to be ‘your' potential salvation?"

"Ah, yes, back to why I became a Death Eater. Well, by Seventh Year, it was obvious that the Snape name was no more popular than it had ever been. I had been left a roof over my head, but I wanted more than that. I wanted recognition and appreciation of my skills. I was the last official Snape and I hungered for fame and glory. So when Lucius, who had left Hogwarts several years before me, arranged for a meeting between Riddle, who was garnering all sorts of attention, and myself, I was easily persuaded to join him.

"I must state here that Albus did try to convince me otherwise, because by then he was beginning to realise that he had been worried about the wrong potential Dark Lord, but I hated him. And Riddle was offering me all that I wanted: a laboratory of my own, access to some rare Dark Arts tomes, and the chance to use all that my grandfather had taught me.

"At seventeen, I was enough of an idiot to think that I could control the situation. That I would give Riddle what he wanted as long as it didn't offend my personal ethics. But at seventeen, one isn't old enough to understand that evil creeps slowly into one's heart. And by the time I did, it was several years later and I had been responsible for things, for actions that would have horrified my grandfather. Actions that had persuaded him to side with the Light in the first place. And I understood that I had failed the only person who had truly loved me."

Snape was silent for several minutes. Neither of his brats said a word, allowing him to work through his memories of that time. Finally, he looked up at them. "It was then that I approached the only person I thought would listen to me. The wizard who had threatened me with Azkaban, a place I was certain I would find myself inhabiting at some point. But I wanted to help take down Riddle or, as he was calling himself by then, Lord Voldemort. I felt I owed that to my grandfather.

"I was lucky. Albus listened and agreed to my spying for the Light. He told me later that he was both impressed and horrified at the chances I took in my quest for reparation." Snape faced Harry again. "So, had I anything to do with the death of your parents? No. I found out about the attack after it had been set into motion. Voldemort had taken only his very favourites with him. I had been working on a potion that he wanted to...well, to extend his life. I was looking for him to report the latest failure when I heard what was going on. I managed to send a message to Albus but by then it was too late. Your parents were dead and you had destroyed Tom Riddle. Unfortunately, Voldemort returned, and here we are, trying to find a way of ridding our world of him for good this time."

Go To Part 4

| Harry Potter Index | Fiction Index | Main Page |