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A Befitting Punishment can be Sweet	By : thebloodyknifeartist Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3814 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Hey! I�d like to thank everyone who�s reviewed my story! And to the people confused with Harriet�s last name: it�s pronounced �Nox-cy-sin-y-us�. It�s a mixture of Latin words that more or less means �of the Night Swan,� a magical creature that will play a part later in the story. Sorry if this caused any inconvenience. Oh yeah, I�m going to make this a series. If people like it enough. And please review it if you read it, even if it�s just a few words. I love hearing feedback and it helps me remain inspired to keep this up! As always, my work is dedicated to the readers!

Chapter 03: The Apprentice�s Dream

Harriet stood in her room holding a tattered leather bound book in her hands. A dreamy smile graced her face and she touched the cracked red leather with reverence. Written across the front with gold gilt scrolling text said �The Alchemist and His Assistant� in French. She had found the book in the library at home about six years ago, tucked behind old maps of the Polynesian islands and Caribbean's. She had just learned French the year she found it and she was excited to try out her new tongue. But the love story within its text changed her, revealing a world to her of poisons and elixirs that could be created. And at the age of eleven she decided she wanted to become a potions master and live in the beautiful realm of simmering solutions and brewing draught.

It was the third day at Hogwarts and Professor Snape had come to her the previous evening and had informed her rather quickly that the Headmaster had permitted her to become his assistant and she would be taking an extra course of potions making. She had felt ecstatic and fought the urge to throw her arms around him and thank him profusely for letting her learn from him. However, she did give him a pleased smile and a quick, �thank you, sir.�

Still stroking the book cover, her smile broadened further as she remembered that tonight she would become Professor Snape�s apprentice. He had told her that she was to meet him in office at ten o�clock, There, he would initiate her into his world.

Her heart seemed to flutter as she realized she was going to spend an unknown amount of time alone in the dungeons with the man of her darkest desires. She imagined having to have sex with him for ritualistic reasons or appeasing the gods. She shivered in delight at the thought and set the book down on her night stand and sat down on her bed, letting her mind drift off into the wonderful thoughts involving her sneering Potions master. She could picture his face right now; ebony eyes glowing with hidden fire like heat within a charcoal briquet. His sallow skin reminded her of a vampire she had met in Bulgaria during her summer break about five years previous. His skin was milky white from the lack of the sun, and like Professor Snape�s, he had no visible blue blood veins. The professor�s thin lips, almost always drawn out in a line of disapproval or curled into a sneer, seemed divine and she wished that she would be able to one day press her own lips against them.

How many times over the summer had she looked into the mirror, trying to copy that sneer for her own, to be able to twist her lips to get that look of absolute disgust? She looked up at the mirror across the room and let her lips curl into a sneer, then smiled in embarrassment at herself. Only the Professor could make it look good, make it look so sexually arousing. Every time he aimed a dirty look towards a student, she felt her heart melt in desire.

She got off the bed and walked over to her large at the end of the bed. She opened it with a key that she conjured from an old gypsy spell she learned in Romania a few summers ago. She pushed the heavy truck lid up and touched family Quidditch robes that her brother Arsenic had given to her as a Yuletide gift last year. She loved them so much and she knew that her brother realized her desire to join a Quidditch team. She shifted the light blue material aside to reveal her small library of books that she had snuck out of the house. She pulled out a book her father bought her as a present on the day she became a Hogwarts student.

�Hogwarts: A History,� she said aloud and opened the book, pages automatically opening to a section of the book that had been viewed hundreds of times since she had received it.

She gazed down at the picture in front of her, filled with a heart-aching desire and respect. Severus Snape�s enchanted photo on the other hand, simply glowered at her, eyes blinking occasionally. She found it so typical of the brilliant man to have his photo self as serious as he was in real life, not waving or smiling at the person who looked down at them.

She had stopped reading the words on the page because by this time, she had memorized everything that was written. Of course there was no change in his demeanor as usual. As her eyes remained focused on his, she stood up and walked back over to her bed, flopping down on the soft downy quilts and gazed at his face. Dark eyes that spoke for his thoughts that he never said aloud, ebony locks that had spilled forward into his face, skin so pale that it looked luminescent in the dark (she knew this from personal experience; she had taken a night walk with the Professor last year to discuss the possibility of taking advanced potions the following year and his skin seemed to glow unnaturally) and a high Victorian collar. For some reason, the way he revealed only the skin on his hands and face seemed arousing to her; what did he hide under all the black and ivory? Was it scars from his days as a Death Eater or a tattoo that snaked around his body? She had often wondered what he was keeping hidden from the world.

The twenty-second hour of the day couldn�t come quick enough for her and as her enchanted pocket watch chimed the hour, she knocked on the door to her potion professor�s office.

�Come in, Miss Noxcycneus,� his voice commanded, deep and velvety.
She opened the door and walked in. Professor Snape sat at his desk, scrawling on a piece of parchment with oddly enough, mauve ink, using a falcon feather quill.

She advanced to the desk and before she could catch a glimpse of what he had been writing, he flicked his wrist over what ever he had been writing and it vanished. He looked up into her eyes and then she watched as his eyes traveled down her body, an approving smirk on his face.

She wore an off the shoulder linen dress, a wheat colour, gathered at the waist and upper arms. She liked how low cut the front was and found the outfit to be rather comfortable. But much to her annoyance, she was barefoot. Her hair hung down and the only other item on her body was a pair of cotton knickers and her pocket watch, the golden chain wrapped around her right wrist. She felt slightly worried that her professor was laughing at her silently, but she couldn�t quite tell. His eyes snapped back up to hers and his look made her feel as though she were nothing more than a common sight, making her heart plummet in despair. They were very expensive robes and she would only be wearing them this night; he could at least compliment her.

�You made a good decision for your attire,� he commented, his voice sounding deeper and richer than she had ever noticed before.

She smiled and straightened the front of her robes. �Thank you. I ordered them specifically from France. They�re one of a kind.�

He nodded his head and she could see a hint of an amused smile on his face. He was obviously not impressed with the amount of money she had spent on them; she could have probably worn a dirty, stained, wool smock and he wouldn�t have cared.

His right eyebrow raised slightly and he spoke further. �And I trust that I don�t have to check to make sure everything you wear is natural material?�

�Check me! Make me take my clothes off!� her body and mind screamed, but she simply shook her head, delicate smile on her face.

He nodded and rose from the chair he was sitting at. He was so tall and powerful, overwhelming her even more when he spoke.

�Follow me and I�ll show you your morning jobs as my assistant.�

�Yes Professor,� she said dutifully and followed him as he left the office. They entered his classroom which was across from his office and they stood at the front. His polished boots clacked against the stone floor, where as her footsteps were silent due to her lack of shoes.

"I suppose the first task you�ll have to do in the morning is to come in here and open the vents." His voice echoed off the ceiling and surrounded her from every direction.

"Vents? I've never seen any," she said, feeling confused.

He moved his hand up toward the ceiling and said, "Look at the pillars in the room; do you notice the stone snakes coiled around the top?"

She nodded her head and replied, "Yes..."

"Well, if you look now, you see their mouths are closed. You have to open their mouths, which bring the fumes out of the room,� he said and she nodded her head again.

They moved swiftly over to a large stone basin in a corner of the room, which was used for emptying cauldrons and potions into. It was a rough dun colour and perched on its edges were two stone toads that poured water from their mouths.

�I will also need you check the rinsing station for any signs of corrosion or other forms of damage,� he said and waved his hand over the stone basin.

He turned once again and moved towards the front of the room to the long shelves covered with jars and bottles of labeled ingredients.

�Inventories of the supply cabinets will be needed daily, so take them in the morning and evening.�

He spun on his heel and was quite suddenly looming over her. �In the evening, you will also help me grade essays and other papers when I need you to.�

She nodded her head. �Anything else?� she asked.

�Not that is extremely important. Other duties will be given later when I think of them.�

�Yes sir.�

�Now, sit down,� he commanded, beckoning to a desk. she sat down on the bench and he continued speaking.

�There are eight rules to being a potions master that you must follow. Memorize them.

�Rule One: No alcohol. Alcohol clouds the mind and your judgment is hindered. So from this point on, you shall never drink anything that intoxicates the mind the way wines or beers do." His eyes narrowed and he asked with a voice of dark inquirer, "Do you think you could live the rest of your life without touching alcohol?"

"Yes," she said softly.

He nodded his head in approval and then continued.

�Second: You shall not divulge your work to others unless, you require their assistance or you are teaching. When you do reveal your work, be sure that it is in a trusted ear; there are many elixirs you may create that could cause great damage in the wrong hands."

She nodded her head.

�Rule three: You shall not settle for anything less than perfect.�

When he said it, there was an odd look in his eye and he looked her over. She wondered what he was thinking, but couldn�t tell as he moved his eyes away from hers.

The tone of his voice lowered, but she could sense a hard malice in it as he said, "I once thought I could settle for something less that perfect, an object with only one flaw. I was wrong. Do you understand that this is a serious matter?"

She nodded her head dutifully again. "Yes sir.

"Good. Rule four: When given the opportunity to learn, take it. But be wary who you receive information from. One wrong "fact" can be fatal. Rule five: You shall remember everything that may be remotely important to your art form. Despite most idiotic notions that all we do is sit and stir, potions requires knowledge in more ways than simply mixing and bottling. You need to know herbology, magical and non-magical creature anatomy, human anatomy, elemental makeup of materials, material knowledge, numerology and arithmancy, astronomy, charms, and medicinal spells for when something goes wrong. Potions are definitely the most complicated art in the world of wizardry.

�Rule six: if you must, be inventive and resourceful in your work. Too many times have people been resorted to suffering dire consequences because they couldn't think up some creative solution to finish a potion because they were one toad eye short."

He raised an eyebrow and she lowered her gaze. Had she been staring at him? She got no answers as he continued speaking.

�Rule seven: Be wary of your own work. Though you may have made a potion yourself, that doesn't mean you are above error. Many fatalities have occurred because a fool will think that he cleaned off a stirring spoon, but he unfortunately missed a spot of dreamless sleep draught, let it come in contact with a drop of dragon bile, thus resulting in an explosion that liquidates all flesh it comes in contact with. And I have seen the remains of the poor fool who did this to himself; I'd rather it not happen to you.

"And lastly, the most sacred rule is this: your master will never break your trust and you must never break your master's. If you are to break every rule save one, make sure this is the rule you never break. I have the power to take your life away and in return I give you the power to take away mine as well. But you have nothing to fear from me. In your darkest hours, you can turn to me and I will be there to help you.

�I shall hurt you, I can promise you that much. Anyone close to me gets hurt, but I can most assuredly promise you that I will never harm you. Do you understand me, Miss Noxcycneus?"

"Yes... I understand you."

He placed both of his hands on the desk and leaned forward so that their faces were barely inches from each other. She stared into his black, fathomless eyes, his left brow arching in its familiar way. He opened his slender-lipped mouth and whispered in a soft, lulling voice,

"Can you promise me that I have your complete and utter trust?"

He could have asked her to cut her left kidney out with a wooden spoon and she still would have given him the same answer.

Her voice was soft and devoted as she replied. "Yes."

His lips curled slightly, drawing up into a smile and he pulled back from her. �Alright. Do you still want to become my apprentice?�

She nodded her head slowly.

�Come with me,� he beckoned with a curl of his fingers. He turned and his robes flowing behind him like drapes of a dark window.

She jumped off her seat and followed behind him, lifting her robes so her legs could move more freely. Her feet padded softly on the stone as she caught up with him. He was heading down to the deepest part of he dungeons, silent. The tall man moved with speed and a silent elegant grace, the impression enhanced by the great black robe he wore that billowed like sails behind him. She wished she could be wrapped up in the robes with him but knew it would never happen but only in her wildest dreams.

After about thirty minutes of moving down stair cases, Professor Snape finally stopped in the door way of the last level of the dudgeons, thousands of feet under Hogwarts castle. The room was dark and the professor held out his wand, and in a soft, almost seductive voice, murmured, �Lumos.�

In the pitch black, a small portion of the stone floor glowed a delicate yellow light, forming a pattern.

He pointed his wand down to his feet and said, �Ablegare,� causing his shoes and socks to disappear, leaving him barefoot like her.

�Come,� he said beckoning her and together they entered the dark room.
As Harriet got closer to the light on the floor she saw the light formed a pentagram inscribed with many alchemic symbols.

�Stand in the center of the pentagram,� he ordered quietly and she obeyed, stepping inside the center. He padded softly into the pentagram after her and she wondered where he was going to stand. He paced around her, looking her over and quite suddenly he was behind her, his body was close and she felt the front of his robes press into her back. His right arm snaked around her waist and she felt herself inhale involuntarily.

His black, slightly greasy hair brushed against her smooth cheek and she heard him speak in a low, velvet voice, "Miss Noxcycneus, the ritual for a man to name a woman his apprentice are different than those of a man to a man."
Her heart jumped and she thought, �Oh gods! We are going to have ritualistic sex! Could life get any better?!�

He murmured, "I hope that at no point you feel intimidated by my touch."

She held back a smile. �Merlin! I think I'm going to die of happiness!�

He further continued, his voice low and seductive, "If at any point you feel like I'm taking advantage of you, then do let me know. I'd hate to taint our relationship."

"Yes," she said quickly, her voice breaking.

�Give me your hand,� he whispered and she offered out her left hand.

On her palm, he traced a symbol on her hand.

�Cobalt,� he said softly in her ear. �It�s your alchemic symbol.�

She nodded her head.

�And here�s mine,� he breathed, the tip of his wand touching her palm again, tracing in the soft gold light. �Black sulfur.�

�Why am I cobalt?� she whispered.

�I�ll explain it later." He began to trace a circle around the two overlapping symbols and he murmured, �This will hurt, my dear..."

She let out a startled gasp from the sudden shooting pain in her arm. Suddenly the magic circle�s power sprang to life, a roaring wind surrounding them like a vortex, whipping up their hair and robes in a wild frenzy of dark and light. Professor Snape leaned his head close to hers and placed his mouth near her ear. Even in the chaos the violent air created, she could still feel his soft breath on her skin, making the hair on the back of her neck rise up on end.

"Painful, isn't it?" he commented, a slightly bitter tone in his voice.
She nodded her head frantically, quickly trying to pull her hand against her, but his long, pale fingers grasped her wrist quickly, thrusting her hand out in front of her once more. Realizing her attempts of pulling away from his hold would be futile, she bit her bottom lip and squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying out it pain.

�Relax, Harriet,� he whispered in her ear, his voice an oddly comforting source. �It will all be over in a few minutes. Concentrate on my hands."

�Yes, Professor,� she replied, and she swore she could almost detect a slight moan in her voice.

She looked down at his hands and began to intently study their features.

His fingers were long and slender but she knew from every time she touched them that they had incredible hidden strength. The ring finger on his left hand was missing part of the tip, but it was barely noticeable. His fingernails were elegantly manicured, and she could see the cuticles had been recently clipped, which seemed an odd contrast to the calluses that formed on his palms. There were many cuts and burns mapping his palms and fingers, like spider webs.

The pain was becoming too intense and she let out a warbling cry, pressing back into him, her body shaking violently.

"Shhhh," he whispered in a deep, melodic tone.

It seemed like hours. Her eyes had watered from the wind and hair hitting her face, along with the pain seeping into ever inch of her body. A churning in her stomach threatened to rise up her throat. She turned around quickly, buried her face deep into his robes, feeling the rough fabric brush against her lips and forehead, inhaling his musky male scent that was tainted with lavender, fluxweed, and cloves. He still grasped firmly onto her wrist, but to her surprise his free arm pressed her close. The pain had become unbearable and she let out a series of shrill screams into her Professor�s chest, not letting the tears in her eyes soak into Snape�s robes.

Finally the magic induced wind stopped and the pain disappeared.

He had released her left hand her body as well, so she backed away, quickly dabbing at her eyes with her sleeves.

"You did very well, Miss Noxcycneus. I am pleased," he said, a satisfied smile on his face.

She nodded her head and stood before him still. He turned and padded out of the circle once more and she followed quickly.

He muttered a spell and his boots and socks reappeared. He pointed his wand at her feet and suddenly there were wool socks and pair of matching boots on her feet as well and before she could say anything, he pointed the wand directly at her and black robes exactly like his were on her.

He stood at the side of the doorway and extending an arm to point his finger out the door, said, �After you.�

�Thank you,� she said and swept out of the dungeon. She heard Professor Snape behind her, the swishing of his robes mocking the sound of hers. A hand rested on her shoulder and she didn�t turn around, letting it stay there as they made their ascent to the castle.

They finally reached Snape�s office and he let her in. She sat down in the green chair she had occupied three nights previous and rested her tired feet. Her professor sat across from her and he held out his fisted hand towards her.

"I would you like you to have this," he said as she reached out.

He dropped a small disk of gold on a gold chain into her open palm.
"What is it?" she asked, dangling the medallion in front of her eyes from the slender gold chain.

"The medallion of St. Aconite. He was a fifteenth century monk who devoted his life to potions work and it�s said he watches over anyone devoted to the art we have chosen," he said, chapeling his marble white fingers elegantly in his lap.

"Thank you," she said and slipped it around her neck, tucking the necklace down the front of her dress robes. She could feel the gold between her breasts, already heated by the potion master�s hand.

Professor Snape stood up and said loudly,

�I believe that this is a moment worthy of a toast. Obviously we can�t divulge in wine, but I believe I have a bottle of black mushroom cinnamon cider we can share together.�

She loved how he emphasized the last word and she nodded her head. As he went to the other side of the room, she turned her gaze to the fire place, looking the brilliant red flames. She sank back further into the chair and quite suddenly a glass goblet was thrust under her nose.

�Your drink,� he sad flatly and she took it.

�Thank you,� she said and raised the warm liquid to her lips.

�I trust you like the beverage of choice?� he asked, sitting down softly.
As he raised his goblet to his mouth, she replied. �It�s one of my favorites; my brother used to send it to me in Durmstrang because they didn�t serve it there.�

He nodded his head and he turned his head to look into the fire. While his attention was away from her, she took it as an opportunity to admire him. His eyes seemed more open then she had ever notice previously and for once his brow seemed relaxed. His black hair swept at his jaw line, barely above the high Victorian collar his right fingers were touching, playing with the top buttons as if they were contemplating letting his throat go from the black material. His mouth wasn�t drawn into a thin line, a calm neutral look to his face. The shadows caused by the fire made his nose seem larger and more hooked, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed. His eyes dropped down to his goblet, watching the liquid spin in the goblet as he circled it gently in his hand.

She smiled and closed her eyes, resting her head against the soft cushion of the chair.

�I hope you�re enjoying my new chair?� she heard Professor Snape murmur.

Her eyes snapped open and she said,"Of course."

"Are you feeling drowsy?" he asked and she thought she detected a smirk on his lips.

She shook her head frantically and protested weakly, "No! Of course not! I'm just relaxing."

But her eyes betrayed her and she found herself falling asleep.

Severus smiled and stood up, setting his goblet on his desk. He walked back over to his new apprentice and gazed down at her.

Merlin, she was angelic looking when she slept.

"Miss Noxcycneus?" he asked gently.

She made no reply and he repeated louder, "Miss Noxcycneus?"

She shifted in the chair, but he could see she was sleeping deeply. He gave a slight chuckle; she looked almost comical in his sinister robes. He leaned down and lifted her into his arms.

"Ye gods; you're heavier than you look!" he exclaimed as he hefted her to a more comfortable position. Her head was against his shoulder and she let out a few slurred words of sleep talk.

As he walked down the hallway to the Slytherin house, he felt a smile of triumph cross his lips. She was bonded to him as an apprentice and a worthy girl she was. But he was slightly disappointed that he couldn't have taken advantage of such a beautiful body; he had scoured the history books for hours and found no rituals of apprenticeship that required intercourse. There had been an ancient Egyptian binding ritual that required sexual activity, but that was for an apprentice to a potions merchant and there was no point cheating her out of a position that she so rightfully deserved, so he simply choose an old alchemic ritual wherein he could be in close contact with her.

It was probably his imagination, but he felt as though she had enjoyed being in such a close contact with him, but then again, she was in a great deal of pain during the experience; she most likely turned to the only source of comfort.

That was odd to him. Severus Snape: A Source of Comfort for Purebloods in Agony. That thought made him shudder; the last person he wanted running to him for condolence were the Weasleys or Draco Malfoy. And Lucius Malfoy had used him for relief from a different kind of agony back when he was a student at Hogwarts.

He reached the dungeon wall that the Slytherin house lay behind and he said,

�Open.�

He hadn�t set a password yet, so the wall opened, creating a stone archway for him to pass through. He walked in and proceeded to her bedroom. He had been in the female dormitories once before as a third year. It had been an eye opening experience to say the least as he accidentally walked in on a group of sixth years changing into their uniforms.

He reached her room and spoke to the door.

�Severus Snape. Open,� he commanded and the heavy wooden door swung open. He walked in and considered changing her into her sleep wear, but then shook away the idea. No point in raising hopes that could never be fulfilled. He lay the pureblood girl down on her bed and his lip curled into a smirk; he wished he could see the look on her face when she woke up in his robes.

He pushed her pale hair out of her face and left the room.
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A Befitting Punishment can be Sweet