A/N: SO SORRY, Invictus readers. If you know anything about me/my fanfiction, you'll know I get distracted with new story ideas quite easily and have to run off and write them. Invictus WILL be completed, I just can't promise when. This process does help me make a better story in the long run, so I don't feel TOO bad. Also, I do not apologize to Yasmine. In fact, you could say this was all her fault. If you would like to blame her, remind her that it is not acceptable to make a person burst into tears in the middle of a Dennys. This multichapter was written in revenge for Yasmine's cruelty!

Chapter One: In Every Death a Life

Harry entered his fifth year of school at Hogwarts School and Witchcraft and Wizardry with the rather astute observation that people were, once again, talking about him. On ever mouth a whisper of last year's events could be assumed, if not outright overheard. Hermione and Ron stuck close to Harry, lending him their support as they moved through the great hall to take their places at the Gryffindor table, and glaring at anyone who dared even look like they intended to approach the boy-who-lived.

Dinner proceeded not too far off of normal. Hermione explained to Harry and Ron what the new DA professor had meant by her long, dull speech, and at the end of the meal they rose rather quicker than usual to find a private place to talk. They were interceded, however, by professor McGonagall.

"Potter, the Headmaster wishes to see you in his office. He implores you to bring Miss. Granger and Mr. Weasley, as he knows you share everything with them, and it might be wise to have them along—for support." The well-controlled professor has a look on her face as though she had just ingested something rather unpleasant, and was having trouble keeping it down. She also seemed nervous and agitated, something that caused the trio to wonder what could possibly make her look so upset. Worried themselves, they hurriedly rushed towards the gargoyle guarding the Headmasters office.

"Harry!" Professor Dumbledore greeted, not looking the least disturbed. "So glad you could make it, my boy. And of course Miss. Granger, Mr. Weasley, always a pleasure. Please, have a seat. Would you like some tea?" Without pausing for an answer the headmaster conjured tea and pastries, encouraging them to take their fill. Harry and the others were still worried, but calmed by the headmasters exuberant manner, assuming that if things were indeed in dire straits, the headmaster would be—a least a little—more solemn.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what this is about," Dumbledore said agreeably, after his initial inquiries as to their health and happiness (and insistence on lemon drops). The three nodded eagerly. "Well Harry, your mother and father left a very explicit will, as you know. The Gringotts vault, a certain cloak…" Harry nodded his recognition. "Some of the things included in the will are things you are not supposed to receive or even be aware of until you come of certain ages, of course." Harry looked at Hermione, who nodded her agreement that most wizarding families did the same.

"What has Harry received now, sir?" Hermione asked, her curiosity too strong to do otherwise. The headmaster's eye's twinkled.

"Your parents, Harry, have written a request into the will that, if they were to die before your 15th birthday, you would become Cliens to one of three men they chose. Those men, of course, were asked to sign agreement before the will was signed and dated." Harry looked confused, and Hermione looked vaguely ill, if not still overpowered with curiosity.

"Who?" she demanded, but her voice was overshadowed by Ron's sudden burst.

"My best friend is not going to become some kind of—of play-toy for some dried up old man!" the other boy shouted. At his words, Harry stood up and confronted Hermione.

"What's he on about? What do you know about this? What in the hell is a Cliens!"

"Please, both of you, calm down. Sit, sit." Dumbledore's tone had the desired effect, and the boys sat, even though one of them looked near to rage and the other was nearing a look of disgruntled uncertainty, if not outright fear.

"Hermione, if you would please allow me to explain, I will answer your question in a timely manner," Dumbledore implored, waiting until Hermione nodded before he continued. "The Patroni-Cliens relationship is one of mentorship, Harry. Your parents wanted you to have a father-figure if things went poorly for them." Harry looked at his friends uncertainly. Ron looked like he was going to explode, and Hermione still had the ill look.

"What was Ron saying then, about a—a play-toy?" He blushed, unable to get disturbing mental images out of his head.

"The Patroni-Cliens relationship was begun by the Greeks and adapted by the Romans, it is a very ancient tradition. Wizards, of course, have adapted it somewhat, binding the two men with spells and enhancing an emotional connection. Rather interestingly, the Cliens is at a disadvantage of power to the Patroni, as the relationship would not work otherwise." Harry looked at Hermione for translation.

"A virtual slave, Harry. With the Greeks and Romans, the relationship was for freemen who had a lowly status in society, a Patroni would actually help to advance their status; teach them things they would need to learn such as statecraft, art, music, etc. It was a type of apprenticeship, one that had advantages for a lowly freeman. The freeman would be fed and housed, well taken care of, and protected by his Patroni until he broke away to set up a career or lifestyle on his own. But Patroni never relinquished their Cliens, in a sense. Politically, they still held sway over anyone whom they had patronized. Cliens, when they left the physical protections of a Patroni's household, would take on their own Cliens and become a Patroni to others, if they had the means, but they never ceased being a Cliens to their original Patroni." Harry was beginning to feel how Hermione looked, thinking of himself as a virtual slave to one of three unknown men.

"And the Wizards? How did they adapt this?" Hermione looked at Dumbledore, who seemed engrossed in some sort of trinket and seemed perfectly content to allow her to answer.

"It's not much different, really. There are spells to bind a Cliens to loyalty, and spells to bind a Patroni to protecting his Cliens. The relationship is supposed to be mutually beneficial. A Cliens will get the advantage of the knowledge, wisdom, and political power of their Patroni, and the Patroni gets an unwaveringly loyal servant. Almost like the frugal houses in Britain, but more on a personal level, and with spells to bind the two participants." Harry scratched his head.

"It doesn't sound too horrible." He noted, looking at Ron.

"Horrible! Mate, you've got to let them bloody bugger you whenever they bloody feel like it!" Ron exploded, and Hermione shot him an angry look as Harry stood up again.

"What!" Hermione looked at him apologetically.

"The Greek and Roman tradition generally had a sexual nature to it; they are supposed to teach you everything, to be fair. The wizards oaths of loyalty translate loosely into doing whatever a Patroni wants. You have no magical way to discern what they want, however, so the Patroni would have to order you to sleep with them, unless you entered into it willingly and without the need of orders."

"Bloody unlikely!" Harry said, shocked by this idea.

"Harry, it's not at all as bad as it sounds, I doubt your parents would have chosen men who would order a fifteen year old boy to sleep with them." She tried to assure him, but Harry was looking forlornly at Dumbledore, feeling betrayed.

"It's the fact that they could do it, Hermione, that I have an issue with. What happens if I refuse their orders?"

"The spell will…hurt you." Hermione responded, sounding truly upset.

"Bloody great. Can I get out of this?" Hermione looked at Dumbledore, who took a moment to rejoin the conversation.

"Not at this time, Harry. The Will is unbreakable—a child must do as his parents see fit, yes? That is the idea behind this particular type of will. If you do not go willingly, you will soon begin to feel compelled to spend time with one of these men, to eventually pledge yourself to them, yourself." Harry slumped.

"What do you mean, not at this time? Can I break the relationship eventually?" Dumbledore nodded.

"In a sense, Harry. As Miss. Granger implied, society will always see you as a Cliens to your patron, and social and political aspects will still apply. But the spells themselves can be ended by the Patroni who invokes them. You must, however, wait a minimum of three years before applying to your Patroni to be released, or else the application will seem to the spell to be a type of disloyalty."

Harry hung his head in his hands. "Who is it, then? Do I even know them?" his voice was muffled and Dumbledore gave him a concerned look.

"The three men your parents chose were listed in order, so that if compelling you became necessary, the name at the top of the list would be the first you were compelled to seek out. In order, they listed Sirius Black, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin."

"Noooo." Harry groaned. Each man was a horrible thought in its own right. Remus and Sirius, he'd feel betrayed and hurt, not to mention he wouldn't be able to get the thought that they could order him to sleep with them out of his head, which in no small way would strain their fragile relationship. Snape was just…Snape. Too horrible to even contemplate.

"Of course, Sirius Black is on the run, legally criminal and in no position to mentor you. Remus Lupin is underground at the moment, and poses similar problems, which leaves us with Severus Snape." The door opened, revealing the very man, and Harry sunk lower into his seat as his glare swept the room.

"Ah, Severus! I'm glad you could join us this evening. Please, sit." Snape frowned.

"No thank you, Headmaster. I find the company deplorable enough without being forced to sit among them." The man stood, looking as though he was only barely containing his rage.

"As we discussed earlier, Harry and his friends have been informed of the new relationship between yourself and Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, a mite too cheerfully.

"Wonderful." Snape snapped, sounding as though it was anything but.

"Could—I mean, I doubt Snape—sorry, Professor Snape really wants to mentor me. You said I had to wait three years before applying to be released, but could he release me himself, if he didn't want to do this?" Harry asked, once again sounding hopeful. Snape sneered at him and answered, since it looked as though Dumbledore had no intention of doing so.

"The spell limits me to at least one year of Patronage, thanks to your mother's adjustments. As it is, Potter, the Headmaster has required—no, ordered me to allow this abomination to go on for at least three years. He thinks you'll be safer with me."

"That's likely." Harry said sarcastically.

"Indeed," Snape agreed menacingly.

"Why did my parents choose you," Harry asked bitingly. Although Snape hadn't really insulted him yet, he felt defensive. Snape glowered but did not respond.

"Severus and your mother were friends in childhood. While James no doubt argued, Lily insisted on having his name drawn up. She was the one to convince him to sign the agreement." Dumbledore supplied when it was obvious Snape was not going to.

"Friends! What did she see in that git?" Harry yelled, unable to reconcile himself to the ridiculous situation.

"Perhaps, Harry, something you yourself refuse to see." The headmaster responded in a quietly admonishing tone, and Harry suddenly burned with shame. Snape seemed even angrier, but was holding his tongue in a remarkably abnormal fashion.

"So—er…" He wasn't going to apologize, but moving on seemed as good an idea as any. "What do we do now?" It seemed the most straightforward of questions.

"The spell has already been invoked, Harry, and it is necessary for you to move into Professor Snape's quarters. The rest of the school—and for the time being, the wizarding world—will be informed that you've been given private rooms in order to keep you safe." Harry sighed, unable to even protest any longer. He felt as though everything had changed in a sudden, stomach-jerking motion, and he was too in shock to respond the way he ought.

"You mean, for the safety of everyone else, to keep them from the boy-who-lived and his madness," He corrected wearily, slumping into his seat.

"That is no doubt what the press will assume, my dear boy." The headmaster looked at him sympathetically, but Harry wasn't in the mood to feel comforted.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll get my things." He said, standing. Hermione and Ron looked as though they wanted to spirit him away and hide him, or perhaps just hug him, but he walked past them to the door.

"You'll see, Harry. This isn't nearly so bad as it seems." Dumbledore assured him. Harry didn't respond.

Sniveling fool, Severus thought as he strode unthinking towards his chambers. Certainly, he has nearly forgotten about the Patroni-Cliens spell that Lily has begged him to be part of, never considering that she would die, never considering that he would suddenly be the most able of the three chosen men to carry out the duty. But the child needn't be so disturbed! It wasn't as though he intended to take Harry Potter to bed. In fact, he intended to stay as far away from him as he could and still fulfill the spell.

Lily had been his friend, a long time ago, and that friendship had endured regardless of the circumstances that followed its seeming end, when James Potter decided Snape was a threat. One could hardly forget the one person in the world who would nurse him back to health after his father's beatings and unending screams of 'faggot!', after all.

He owed the woman a debt he likely could never fill; she had been the sole reason to keep going, sometimes. The only reason things such as honor, loyalty, and morality still existed for him. If not by her example, he likely would have become something like all the other Death Eaters, something like the Dark Lord. Abused by the world, taking revenge through power. Lily had shown him another way; he owed it to her—and, however much he despised it—her son, for that.

But by Merlin, he hated the brat. So like James; thoughtless, uncaring, cruel. And now, to live with him? He had kept himself civil—as civil as possible—during the meeting with the headmaster; as much as he hated him, he was soon going to have to live with Harry Potter, try to teach him something…and if nothing else, Severus Snape took his duties seriously. But the effort had been momentous, and a not-so-small part of his mind wanted to make the next few years as horrible as possible for the boy. Convincing him that Severus intended to bed him could be…interesting. He never claimed to be the best of men, after all. With this satisfying thought, he reached his quarters and set himself to await the boys arrival.

Harry gathered his things, said a terse goodbye to Hermione and Ron—who were looking increasingly worried—and headed off before he realized he had no idea where Snapes quarters were. Luckily, he ran into McGonagall as he began heading in the general direction of the dungeons.

"Potter!" The woman sighed. "I take it you've spoken with Dumbledore." She seemed resigned now, and her earlier agitation suddenly made sense.

"Yes, er…do you know where?"

"Severus's quarters? Yes, this way, I'll take you." They walked in silence for a moment before she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Potter. I tried to talk to him. Them." Harry fidgeted.

"It's okay, there was nothing you could do," he tried to sound reassuring, but it came out sounding questioning. She shook her head.

"The parameters of the spell are quite extensive, Lily and James must have worked on it very hard." Harry was still struggling to figure out why his parents had done this to him—with Snape!—and didn't respond.

"Here you are, Potter." McGonagall said as they came up outside of a nondescript door. "I've no doubt he's waiting for you. If you need anything…" She trailed off, looking uncertain about what she could possibly do if he did. He nodded at her anyway.

"I will, thanks." He tried to smile, and she squeezed his shoulder and left. Take a deep breath, he entered the room.

A/N: So? What do you think?