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Fic: Comes Great Power (Snape/Harry, R) for regasssa
Author: lavillanueva
Recipient: regasssa
Title: Comes Great Power
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Implied Snarry
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Summary: With great power comes great responsibility; with great responsibility, comes great power.
Warnings: Seventh-year AU, implied non-con, a hint of mindfuck.
Word Count: 1,500
Author's Notes: Happy holidays Regasssa! I do hope you enjoy this. Much love to my betas, B and L.




"He's not here."

"Well-spotted, Miss Granger. Two points to Gryffindor."

The girl turned away from the cellar door, so close to tears she did not even react to the barb.

"But- but-" Those tears would roll over any moment, now. Snape curled his lip and reached into his robes for a handkerchief. "But this is where they brought us. This is where we- left him."

"And I suppose you store your Galleons all in one vault? Here." She accepted the handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. "As I've said, the Dark Lord was no fool. He would not have kept his greatest enemy and most valuable prisoner in the building where he slept. No, keep it. I dare say you'll need it again."

The girl sniffed and tucked the cloth into her clutch. "Thank you," she said, then straightened her shoulders. "You really don't think he's d- gone?" Her lip trembled as she spoke. If they kept on this topic, she was going to work herself into a fit again.

"For the last time, you moronic child, no. The Dark Lord would not have kept such cause for celebration secret. Take my word: somewhere, Potter lives to torment me another day."

Granger's smile was weak, but genuine: a far sight better than her endless wracking sobs as of late. "Do you think any of the surviving Death Eaters would know where he is?"

"There is a chance. Someone is caring for him, after all." Granger's face brightened. Bloody optimistic Gryffindors.

"You're right! Someone must see him ... Voldemort wouldn't ... probably Wormtail..." She sped up the stairs to the ground floor of the Manor, talking excitedly. "... Veritaserum, I've some in my bag, we can- Are you coming, Professor?"

"To watch as you interrogate my former compatriots, Miss Granger?" Snape smiled as he ascended, much too slowly for Granger's tastes according to her impatient frown. "Charming as that sounds, I do have other responsibilities. A school full of children, for one." He reached the landing and looked down at her. "The world does not stop spinning, not even for Harry Potter."

She stuck out her chin and refused to look away. "I'm going to find him," she said solemnly.

Snape snorted. "I'd expect nothing less. Good day, Miss Granger."




He had not been lying: the Hogwarts grounds were crawling with Aurors, Unspeakables, and all manner of distraught Wizardfolk. The bodies had been cleared away - the bodies that could be easily located, at least. Snape had no doubt there were others, masked by heavy trees or hidden in dark alcoves. Hopefully they would be found before decomposition set in. It was surprisingly difficult to remove the stench of decay from stone walls.

His office, too, was bustling with activity; McGonagall must have offered it as a headquarters of sorts. That it was not hers to offer made no difference, apparently. No matter. Snape had no intention of retaining the Headmaster's post. With the Dark Lord vanquished, the position was sure to revert to its former glory as Grand Juror of Petty Squabbles. Let McGonagall decide whether a Hufflepuff or a Slytherin should be made Head Girl this year. Snape had more important demands on his attention.

Thankfully, the dungeons were near deserted. Slughorn had done his job then, keeping the students in the common room. Snape did not look in; he was unlikely to be greeted kindly by the students whose parents he had just betrayed and sent to their deaths. It didn't matter. Popularity placed too many demands on his attention.

When he opened his chamber door, he was welcomed by an unexpected warmth. The fire must have been raging all night and day. Snape cursed; even with all the protective charms on the room, leaving a fire unattended was unwise. The damage potential was ... unimaginable.

He extinguished the flames and felt the room cool immediately. Even in May, the dungeon air chilled to the bone. Stone rooms beneath a lake in Scotland. And people wondered why Slytherins were always cross.

A quick glance around the room proved nothing had been disturbed since he had left- what was it- almost 24 hours ago now. How much changed in the space of a day, and yet his rooms showed no evidence of the passage of time, or of the great events that had occurred. As though they were insulated from the outside world.

It was a comforting thought.

Snape snuffed the candles and replaced the wards, throwing in a few additional spells just in case. With half the wizarding world at the school, there was no guarantee he would be left in peace for an hour, much less the rest of the evening. And he had no intention of being intruded upon tonight. Whatever crisis sprang up, it could wait until morning, no matter what the blasted Aurors thought.

He made his way to the bedroom and removed his robe. Once he'd hung it in the wardrobe he closed the door, then inserted a heavy bronze key into the lock and opened it again. His robes were gone; in their place was a dark, empty hallway. Without light it was impossible to tell whether the hall extended ten or a thousand metres deep; Snape lit his wand and closed the door behind him.

Illuminated, it was clear the hall was not so long - perhaps a few dozen metres. But it was space well-used: the walls on either side were lined with barred cells. As he approached the back wall, a soft thud came from the furthest cell. Snape smiled. After so long in the dark, even the barest sliver of light must be disorienting.

"Hello?" A young voice, rough from disuse, called out. "Who's there?"

"Who do you think, you insolent whelp?"

As Snape approached the cell door, the boy inside held one dirty hand over his eyes. "Snape?"

"Were you expecting Helga Hufflepuff?" Snape sneered. He let his wand glow a little brighter.

Potter looked down at his knees, blinking against the light. Red scraped and green bruises showed through the frayed denim. "I didn't know- You were gone for-"

"A day," Snape snapped. "And barely that. Are you so incapable of being on your own? Perhaps I should have had one of the others entertain you. Greyback's looking for a new plaything, I hear." He stepped closer to the bars. "Though I believe he has his sights on young Mr Malfoy."

Potter's head snapped up at Draco's name. Snape could not hold in a triumphant smirk. So little surprised the boy anymore. Not after Snape had broken the news of Ronald Weasley. He would have to take care with killing off the boy's friends, or one day there'd be nothing left to shock him out of his near-catatonia.

"Malfoy?" Potter said. "But Malfoy's-"

"No longer useful." Snape stared down at him. "Don't delude yourself that the Dark Lord has grown complacent. He is, if anything, more indulgent with his new power. You must not test-"

"I know."

"Not. Test. His. Patience." Snape finished. "And that includes impertinence. Are you trying to earn a trip to Bellatrix's chamber?"

"No" The boy looked down into his lap, picking roughly at his fingernails. Pleasure prickled through Snape's chest; Potter had come so far at reining in his stubborn violence. Or perhaps he was too weak to react. He was perilously thin, and he'd had nothing to eat or drink since the previous evening's meal.

In fact, he was probably eager enough that he would not have to be prompted into action tonight. Snape waited in silence to see if his prediction came true.

"Do I ... " Potter kept his head down, but Snape could see the pink on his cheeks, "do I still have to?"

Yes, the boy must have been close to desperate. "Does the Dark Lord still enjoy seeing you on your knees?"

Potter did not respond. He didn't need to: his slow crawl across the floor was answer enough. He stopped at the bars, kneeling by Snape's feet but refusing to look into his eyes. Perhaps the boy would need some prodding after all. Or perhaps Snape should allow him to remain kneeling on the freezing stone, shivering and aching with hunger, until he gave in. He rather liked that idea.

But it had been a long day, and Potter's stubborn will might outlast his yet. So he sighed and tapped at the underside of Potter's chin. The boy looked up then, doing his best to meet Snape's gaze without his glasses.

"Say it," Snape directed, more kindly than he'd intended.

Potter licked at his chapped lips. "Please."

"Good." When he released Potter's chin, it fell back to the boy's chest, as though the only thing keeping it up had been Snape's hand. "Make it fast," he said as Potter fumbled with his zip. "I have more important tasks than seeing to you."

It was a lie, of course. He'd never had a more attractive responsibility than keeping Potter. Granger could look all she wanted. Snape was never giving him up.


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