Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Punish Me	By : Sparrowhawk Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 133350 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 45
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form and make no profit from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Assertion
- 2-Attack
- 3-Breakdown
- 4-Encounter
- 5-Punishment
- 6-Contact
- 7-Bitten
- 8-Scars
- 9-Play
- 10-Invitation
- 11-Abduction
- 12-Obedience
- 13-Tease
- 14-Learning
- 15-Venture
- 16-Protecting
- 17-Mistakes
- 18-Visit
- 19-Impromptu
- 20-Trigger
- 21-Healing
- 2
- 3
- 4
All right, here's the next chapter for all my lovely readers. But first, reviews!
sarah999: You are very welcome (; Oh, I'm so glad you liked the dream! You'll have to find out if it is Snape in the dream or not. As for the pairing, it is definitely Severus/Harry, and yes, there is going to be another added to their pairing. That will be answered in this chapter, though I'm pretty sure you'll be able to guess who it is. Enjoy the next chapter!
draechaeli: Thanks, I'm glad you like it (: Here's the next chapter!
moodysavage: Lol, that is funny! I would be laughing, too. I have to admit, part of the reason she's the one who died in the last chapter is because I really didn't want to have the cliche of her standing between Harry and his lover(s), but it also goes along with the plot, so that's not the only reason. Wow, thanks for the compliment! I'm glad you could picture the dream so clearly. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Eve: Sub!Harry is my favorite, too. I mean, some people can pull of a Dom!Harry well enough that I really like it ... there are actually a couple different stories I'm reading with Harry as a Dom that I adore ... but I usually prefer him as a sub, especially involving Severus. Here's the next update, enjoy!
jami_lee: No need to apologize, I don't much care for Ginny either. She's okay--note I say okay--as a character, but ... because I'm a fan of Harry being paired with other guys ... yeah, that just naturally makes me not like her so much, lol. Plus in the books and movies she always struck me as ... you know, obsessed fangirl. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!
io_non_ha_paura: Thanks so much, I hope you continue to enjoy it!
All righty, warnings for what this chapter contains for anyone who might like to know. Profanity. Angst. Masochism (nothing major yet) in the form of self-harm and not for the sake of sexual pleasure, but more for emotional release. A very little bit of Severus/Harry interaction--non-sexual, though. Sorry (: Not yet, my lovelies, not yet. Gotta set the stage a little more first. Think that's it. Now, on to the chapter!
Chapter Three
Everything felt surreal. Ginny’s death. The funeral. It floated by like a swiftly dissipating mist. Harry was vaguely aware of the condolences given to him by his friends and the few, empty words he gave as condolences to Ginny’s family and Dean—Dean who had loved Ginny far more than Harry ever could. It wasn’t fair. Why had Ginny loved Harry so much? Dean deserved her love; Dean could return it much better, much more freely than Harry could. Why couldn’t she have fallen in love with him instead? But it wasn’t her fault. No, it was never her fault. He was the one who was messed up.
Before he could really grasp anything that happened, he was home, in his room, on his bed, a cup of Kreacher’s soothing ginger tea in both hands. He couldn’t remember apparating at all.
As he sat staring blankly at the wall across from his bed, the whispered conversations going on around him at the funeral finally penetrated his overloaded mind.
“—found her early in the morning.”
“—just outside number fourteen Grimmauld place.”
“Poor dear, didn’t have a chance. No wand to speak of, they must have ambushed her.”
“—no idea she was pregnant. Do you think it was Harry Potter who …?”
“—Death Eaters who did it. Still some out there loyal to You-Know-Who, or so I’ve heard. The Aurors have their hands full rounding ‘em all up.”
“—near Harry Potter’s house at the time—”
“—tortured her to find out where Harry Potter lived, but she wouldn’t give him up. What a brave girl—”
A sob tore its way from Harry’s throat. He hadn’t loved Ginny like she wanted him to, but he had loved her as a sister and friend. And it was all his fault she was gone. He should’ve never gotten involved with her. Everyone who got involved with him suffered. He should’ve never survived the last battle.
His feelings were so twisted and confused, so out of control, and with a scream, they exploded. Violently throwing himself off the bed, he smashed the china teacup against the wall. Tears poured down his cheeks as he grabbed his old school trunk and chucked it, too, at the wall. He shredded his clothes with his bare hands, tore papers and posters from the walls, smashed anything and everything that could be broken until there was nothing left to destroy, nothing upon which he could vent his anguish.
“M-Master Potter?” Kreacher called from the open doorway.
“Get out, Kreacher,” Harry snarled without turning around. “I don’t want to see you right now.”
“Master Potter,” the house elf went on bravely. “Maybe Master Malfoy was right. Maybe you should go see Master Sn—”
“Out! Get out!” Near hysterical with grief and pain, Harry grabbed the closest thing to him and chucked it at the alarmed house elf. Kreacher squealed in fright, ducking out of the way of what turned out to be a sharp piece of glass. The shard buried itself in the door where Kreacher’s head had been moments before, but Harry was past caring. “GET OUT!!”
The door slammed closed, and Harry collapsed into a sobbing heap in the middle of the mess on his floor. He was so tired, and angry, and grieved, and raging, and destroying things wasn’t helping. He had almost killed Kreacher! He was so out of control. What was he supposed to do?
It was then that he felt a stinging on his palm. The pain was nothing—nothing he hadn’t felt before anyway. And yet … it was different. It didn’t feel bad. He knew it should, but it didn’t. In fact, it felt rather good—like cutting open a blister to relieve the swelling or letting pus out of an infected cut.
Eyeing another shard of broken glass, he picked it up and experimentally drew it across the back of his arm. He didn’t do it hard enough to draw blood, but it left behind a long, pink welt and a pleasant sting. For long moments, he simply sat and stared at it, stared and thought how good it felt. Trance-like, he put the shard to his arm again and cut a little deeper in the same spot, drawing blood. He blinked at the beads of crimson liquid welling to the surface. It looked … beautiful.
Oh God, he realized with sudden clarity. Draco was right. I am a masochist. And probably a sub, too. Oh gods, what do I do now? I’m a freak!
Feeling abruptly ashamed by the action, he thrust the shard savagely away from himself, his breathing speeding up as it came down on him just what he had done. He had hurt himself, and he had liked it. That wasn’t normal. Pain should hurt. Pain should only ever be painful. It shouldn’t feel good. He shouldn’t want to do it again. It just wasn’t right!
But when had he ever been considered normal, he wondered? Had he ever been normal?
“Potter, you must seek out Severus Snape.”
Harry frowned, Draco’s words from so many weeks ago coming back to him, calming him slightly. Snape? Would Snape really be able to help him? Maybe Snape knew some way to stop this kind of thing. Maybe there was a potion that could turn him normal.
He glanced at the clock, the only unbroken fixture remaining in his room as it was too high on the wall for him to reach without jumping or by using magic. Eight-thirty. It was a little late, but the Potions master would most likely still be awake. That was that, then, he decided. He would have to go see Severus Snape about a solution to his “problem.”
Walking to the door, much calmer now that he’d made a solid decision, he peeked out, finding Kreacher crouched down by the wall, tears running down the faithful house elf’s cheeks. “Kreacher,” he said softly.
The house elf sniffled and looked up. “Master Potter!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “What does Master Potter wish of this one?”
“Do you know where Professor Snape lives?”
“Oh yes! Kreacher visits his friends there on occasion when Master permits Kreacher a ‘day off.’”
“Could you take me there?”
“Of course, Master. If Master would grab Kreacher’s arm?”
Smiling at the house elf’s enthusiasm, Harry grasped the creature’s slim arm. Moments later he found himself standing, a little winded from the side-along apparition, outside a modest little home in the country. “This is Professor Snape’s house?” Harry questioned the satisfied house elf disbelievingly. He wasn’t sure what he expected—a haunted mansion, maybe—but the little cottage-type house wasn’t it. It was done in earthy browns with a trim of dark green around the windows and door. He found it surprisingly … homey. Not a word he would have associated with his Potions professor as he had known him in school. What else didn’t he know about the man?
Kreacher nodded. “This is Master Snape’s house, Master Potter. Shall I tell him you’re here?”
“No, thank you, Kreacher. You can go back to the house.”
The house elf bowed. “As Master Harry Potter wishes.” Then with a snap of his fingers, he disapparated, leaving Harry alone in front of Severus Snape’s abode.
Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped up to the fence surrounding the yard and tapped politely on the wards there, alerting the one who erected the wards—Professor Snape, in this instance—to his presence. Then he leaned back against the fence to wait. He knew his former Professor well enough to know he might be in the midst of brewing a delicate potion and that he would answer his door at his own convenience.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the door opened. Harry watched patiently as the elder Lord Malfoy and Severus Snape walked casually toward him, conversing quietly. When they stopped just inside the gate, Harry nodded to both of them in turn. “Mr. Malfoy, Professor Snape.”
“Good evening, Mr. Potter,” Lucius Malfoy said, inclining his head slightly.
“This is a surprise,” Severus drawled, eyeing his formal pupil like he would a particularly interesting potion.
The relationship between Harry and Lucius had improved much over the years as Harry proved himself a true friend to Lucius’ only son. They weren’t friends like Harry and Draco, but they were good acquaintances and spoke on occasion when the elder Malfoy was visiting his son. His relationship with Snape was … well, nonexistent. He hadn’t seen him for nearly eleven years, after all.
Lucius looked Harry over. It had been a few months since he’d last seen the boy—man, he had to remind himself—and what he saw now was shocking. Harry looked like a walking corpse. He gestured toward the door through which he had exited Severus’ home. “I apologize for making you wait out here, Mr. Potter. I see that your business with Severus is rather urgent.” He tapped his walking stick on the ground, took a step, and then stopped, turning back to Harry with a frown. “I heard about the young Miss Weasley. I know my words will not necessarily be welcome, being who I am, but I would appreciate it if you would pass on my condolences.”
“Of course I will, Mr. Malfoy, and thank you.”
With a curt nod to both Harry and Professor Snape, Lucius disapparated.
“Well, Mr. Potter, to what do I owe this …” Severus’ eyes raked over Harry’s rather pathetic appearance before he continued with a sneer, “… pleasure?”
“Um … well …” Now that he was here, the dark eyes of the Potions master boring into him, he no longer knew what to say. He couldn’t just come out and say “Hey Professor Snape, ya got any potions that will turn me normal?” Snape would just think he’d finally gone crazy, which he wasn’t at all sure he hadn’t.
“Surely you didn’t come simply to waste my time, Potter.”
“No, I’m … I’m having some … problems, sir.”
“Problems? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific,” Snape responded sarcastically, folding his arms impatiently across his chest.
“W-Well, sir, I need … I mean, if you can just ... w-would you ... uh—”
“Stop stuttering, Potter!” the older wizard snapped irritably. His lip curled when the Boy-Who-Lived shut his mouth with an audible snap. No argument? His eyes narrowed. “Now, Mr. Potter, explain to me why you’re here, preferably in the least amount of words possible.”
Harry looked down at his hands, wringing them nervously. “I … need a potion, sir.”
Severus raised a disbelieving brow. “A potion,” he repeated. “Did it not occur to you that you could go about buying a potion from me in the normal way? Surely you know I brew potions for Wruelna’s Apothecary.”
“No … I mean yes! Yes, I know that. It’s just … I wanted to come see how you were doing, too.”
The Potions master’s lips pressed into a thin line at the obvious lie. “What potion do you need, Potter? I can’t guarantee I have one prepared, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“Right … um … I’ve been taking the dreamless sleep potion and it, uh, doesn’t work … anymore.” He cringed inside when the man’s sneer turned into a frown.
“Have you been taking the potion every night?”
“Y-Yeah … just about.”
“I’ve not had someone come to me for whom the dreamless sleep potion hasn’t had an effect in quite some time. After all, not many take the dreamless sleep draught enough to develop immunity to it. I have a potion that will work, but it might take me a few minutes to find it. You don’t mind waiting out here, do you Potter?”
Harry quickly shook his head. “Not at all, sir. I’ll wait.”
“Well, sit down then,” Snape grumbled, gesturing imperiously to the gate behind Harry. He almost had to do a double take when the younger wizard did exactly what he said to do the moment he said it. He must be sick, he concluded internally, stopping and turning back to face the expectant brat. “Potter, this isn’t only about the dreamless sleep, is it? There is something else going on here, and I intend to find out what that is. It’d be in your best interest to tell me now, for the alternative will not be pleasant.”
“It’s … nothing, sir.”
“Do not lie to me, Mr. Potter,” Severus warned, voice coming out as a dangerous hiss, black eyes narrowed in contempt. “Or, if you feel you must, at least do so convincingly.”
“Sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled, lowering his head so his bangs covered his eyes. A shiver ran through his body. “It’s not something I feel comfortable discussing.”
“Hmm … if that is so, then it is none of my business.”
The Potions master’s eyes wandered down the younger man’s rather pathetic frame, wondering what might be wrong with him that he would end up in such a state, narrowing and pausing when they came upon an angry red line on the other man’s forearm. No, could he be …? Really? Maybe not. I need to check.
“Mr. Potter, what is that on your arm?”
Blinking, Harry looked up at his former Potions professor and followed the direction of his gaze to his left arm and the cut he had made there with the glass shard. He had been in such a rush to get here he hadn’t thought to hide the incriminating wound. He covered it with his other hand uncomfortably. “A cut, sir. I cut myself on a piece of glass.”
“Cut yourself, Mr. Potter? Or did the glass cut you?” Severus inquired pointedly, knowing now that what he had thought of the cut was true.
“The … The glass cut me, s-sir.” Stupid! He should’ve known. Snape always could see through him.
“Didn’t I tell you not to lie to me?” Foolish boy. Face twisting in disgust, Severus pulled his wand from inside his robes and pointed it at Harry’s arm. “Episkey.”
Biting his lip as the wound healed, somewhat sad to see it go—though he’d never admit it to himself—Harry bowed his head. “Thank you, sir. I—”
“Save it, Potter. I’ll get the potion for you, assuming that wasn’t a lie as well. After that, I expect you to leave.” Turning on his heel, Severus swept away, customary black cloak billowing behind him.
Fighting back hot tears, Harry nodded miserably. When had he become such a wretch? “I understand, sir,” he whispered to the man’s retreating back. Maybe he shouldn’t have lied. Why was it always so hard to tell the truth around Snape?
He huddled down on his seat on the fence, blowing on his hands to keep them warm. You need to seek out Severus Snape, so Malfoy said, but now that he had, he had screwed it up. Badly. Why did he fuck everything up so badly all the time? Why couldn’t he get things right?
“Potter,” Snape said, grabbing the other wizard’s hand and dragging it away from his arm where his nails were imbedded in his skin, drawing blood. “This potion acts much like dreamless sleep,” he explained, placing the vial of reddish brown liquid in Harry’s hand instead, “but it is stronger. Take two drops before bed with a glass of water. Only water. It doesn’t react well with other liquids. Unlike dreamless sleep, it will not completely block your dreams. Whatever dreams you may have, however, will not be nightmares.”
“Thank you, I … really appreciate this.”
“You can pay me for that when you come to get more.” Grimacing to himself, Severus drew his wand a second time and pointed it at Harry’s arm. Before he could cast the spell, though, Harry put his other arm over the four deep cuts protectively. “Potter—”
“No. Thank you, Professor, but … I’d rather not owe you any more than I already do.”
Snape paused in consideration, then with a click of his tongue, stowed his wand away again. “Mr. Potter, something for you to consider, if you will. I prefer having someone indebted to me.” He looked Harry up and down once more, then tucked his hand into his robes and drew something out. The object gleamed from inside his palm. Catching the leather thong attached to it, he let the amulet drop in front of Harry’s face. “Take this. It will let you past my wards anytime I may not be here to let you in. Get yourself together. Eat properly, bathe, dress yourself, care for yourself as you might a favorite pet. Do not hurt yourself. Then, Mr. Potter, should you continue to find yourself in need of this nothing you cannot seem to admit properly, come see me.”
“But, Professor, I don’t—”
“The only words I want to hear out of your mouth, Mr. Potter, is ‘yes, sir.’ Understood?”
“But I—”
“Understood?”
Nostrils flaring, heart racing, Harry took the amulet and numbly placed it around his neck, peering back into the man’s dark eyes timidly. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Go home and sleep, Potter. I don’t want to see you in this sorry state again.”
“Sir?”
“What is it, Potter?”
“You don’t have anything that could … erm … help?”
“Unfortunately—or fortunately, as the case may be—I do not have any potions that can cure what ails you, Mr. Potter.”
Defeated, Harry nodded. “I’ll … be going then, Professor.”
True to his word, the Chosen One stepped out of the wards surrounding Severus’ house and disapparated. Lost in thought, Severus stroked his jaw as he strode back toward his house. It seemed he had things to prepare. Draco was right. Potter had come to see him, though not for any reason Draco had mentioned—those being rather vague in the first place. He’d have to contact Draco and his father later to give them the news. It’d been a long time since a sub caught his interest. The Malfoys would be thrilled. Lucius especially. They prefered to share their subs—as long as their subs were agreeable and no boundaries were crossed.
“Well, Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured as he stopped at his door and looked over his shoulder to the spot where his potential sub had disappeared. “It would seem you will not be able to avoid me much longer.”
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A/N: There you have it, chapter three! Please feed the author and leave a review!
Felt I should answer this review immediately, so here it is.
WingsofaDream: First of all, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I didn't realize that might be offensive. I really was not trying to link kink with serious self-harm issues, and I apologize if that's the way it came off. After reading your review I did go and look up self harm and masochism respectively, I even tried looking them up together to find how different they are and why it may be offensive, but I haven't had much success. Perhaps you could enlighten me a little more on this issue or point me in the right direction so I can read up on it to better understand where you're coming from.
Oh, and not to be rude or anything, but please don't tell me what I probably will and won't do. I do not consider your review or your criticism a flame. I invited that on purpose, not to shoot down the first person who decides they don't like what I've written or have an issue with something I don't fully understand, but (I might add) am very interested in.
Now that's said, thank you for the compliment about my writing style, and I will definitely try to be more cautious in the future or else put up a disclaimer for the self-harm as well, which I will probably still do now that you've brought it to my attention. Again, apologies.
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