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Potions and Punishments	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 8419 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
PAP4
Author’s Notes: Yes, I would say this is the chapter where the story definitely starts earning its rating. You have been warned. So don’t complain if you choose to proceed.
Chapter 4: The Shower and the Bed

Her first thought, as she stared up at the expensive-looking, gold-colored faucet and fixtures was that the teachers’ bathrooms were obviously much better furnished than the hideous, old-fashioned and mildewed rest rooms that the students had to use. Her second thought, as she heard his hands began to twist open the taps was to wonder if they were also better equipped as far as having a reasonable water pressure. That answer was answered far sooner than she might have hoped, for the next moment there was a torrent of water pouring down upon her. Unfortunately, the one thing she hadn’t considered was whether the nice-looking fixtures were still attached to the same atrociously inefficient heating system, meaning that it took forever to coax a reasonable flow of hot water through them. She shrieked as the ice-cold stream hit her, and found herself clumsily scrambling against the sides of the sink as she tried to get away from the cascade of frigid water.
A moment later, his left hand had appeared before her, offering her a place to sit on while waiting for the water to warm up. She tried to ignore it, and gingerly held herself as far away from the gushing water as she could. But every few seconds one or the other of her feet would lose traction and would slide down the slippery side of the sink and she would have to reposition herself. She heard a loud, clanking noise and, looking down, realized that he had closed the drain and immediately the freezing liquid began to pool around her ankles and the level rose swiftly upward. After a few seconds of this, she had to admit defeat, and found herself climbing up over his fingers and collapsing, exhausted, in a seated position in the palm of his hand again.
She heard him laugh, and his other hand immediately went to raise the lever to open up the drain again.
He leaned over her and the ends of his black hair brushed against her wet, bare skin. "Yes, pet," he sneered. "Better stay nice and snug here for a minute until the water’s warm enough."
She glared back up at him, no longer able to control her temper. "You son of a bitch!" she cried. "This isn’t funny."
He clucked his tongue again and frowned down at her. She saw his other hand move to retrieve a bottle of liquid soap from the top of the sink. He skillfully managed to open up the top with one hand and a moment later she felt a large glop of the viscous liquid drip down upon her head and dribble down her face and shoulders. Then he raised his hand and pushed her backward, pinning her against his other hand again. And she found herself spitting and coughing as the bitter, slick liquid was rubbed into her mouth by the tip of his finger.
"Language, Miss O’Brien," he warned, in a mild, reproving tone of voice.
The next thing she knew he had tossed her back under the water. At least the temperature was tolerable now, and she opened her mouth gratefully to rinse the acrid taste of the soap out of her mouth. She did this repeatedly, the loud noise of the water cascading around her ears not quite managing to drown out the sound of his laughter. As she rinsed her mouth again and spit out some more of the bitter liquid, she felt his hands move above her, temporarily diverting the spray of water. She moved back and stared up at him again, wondering what he was up to now.
He was regarding her mockingly, one eyebrow upraised as he poured more soap from the bottle into his wet hands. "You will address me as ‘Sir’, or ‘Professor Snape’, Miss O’Brien. Please remember that," he intoned softly, as he swiftly worked the soap into a filmy mass of bubbles between his two hands.
Her mouth widened in horror. She had no doubt that he was about to pick her up with both hands again and spread the lather over her wet, writhing and naked body.
"No!" she shouted, leaning back against the side of the sink for a moment.
Both eyebrows were up now, and he leaned forward and bent his head down towards her.
"What, Miss O’Brien?" he questioned sternly.
"Don’t! I mean please, Sir, don’t!" she amended hastily.
He leaned closer. "Don’t what?"
She swallowed and held her hands up in a front of her. "Please don’t wash me. Let me do it myself."
He smiled slightly and turned his head just a little bit to the side. "What was that?" he asked, as if he needed her to speak directly into his ear.
"Let me wash myself," she began. She took another swallow. "Please, Sir, please?" she finished, her voice quavering and pleading.
He turned his head again and the black eyes regarding her were cruel and sparkling. She stared up at them, and though it was difficult to tell given the inky color of the irises, she believed that they were quite dilated. He smiled slightly and stood upright again for a moment. He squeezed some more of the soap into his hand and then leaned back down. She gasped as his hand neared her again, but he did not attempt to touch her. He merely held his hand in front of her waist and offered the pool of soap to her.
She looked up at him again and shook. Partly in fear, and partly because she was feeling quite chilled again. She took a small step to the side so that she could feel the warm water run down her back and dropped her gaze to look at his palm.
She had no doubt that he was quite aroused by what he had done to her, and she was certain that the sight of her washing herself was only going to increase his lust. But, it still seemed better than to allow him to pick her up again. Besides…..
She stretched out her own small hand and ladled up some of the soap. If he really wanted to do something sexual to her-or with her-he would have to restore her to full size first, wouldn’t he? And he had said that he would give her the antidote if she started obeying him. So, she might as well buy some time and arouse him a little further in the hopes that he would be anxious to bring her back to her normal size.
She rubbed some of the soap unto her left shoulder and carefully scrubbed up and down her arm, aware that his eyes were avidly watching every little movement. She forced herself to move slowly and methodically and scrubbed for a long time before moving to rinse off her arm under the water. She moved back towards him and scooped up some of the soap in her left hand, using it to wash off her right arm. After carefully rising it off, she moved back and dipped both hands in the soap. This time, she stood with her back in the water again and stared up at him defiantly as she slowly spread the lather over her neck and upper chest. Then, she closed her eyes and dropped her hands down and began to smooth the thick layer of foam over her breasts.
She spread the creamy bubbles over both of them and then opened her eyes again. It appeared that she had his full and undivided attention, for his eyes were fixed, unmoving upon her and his mouth was open just enough so that she could see his teeth, slightly clenched between them.
"Very good, Miss O’Brien," he whispered. "Please continue."
She shrugged and dropped her left hand down to cup under her left breast, using the fingers of her right hand to trace lightly but firmly around the smooth, soapy nipple, feeling it harden and jut out prominently in response. She glanced back up at him just in time to see him lick his lips.
"Like that, you sick, twisted bastard?" she thought to herself.
Outwardly, she smiled as she switched her hands to the other side and repeated the motion there. She closed her eyes again and tilted her head back and allowed the water to run down her front, rinsing off the bubbles. As she did so, she raised her hands back up to her nipples and twisted and stroked at them again.
She opened her eyes again and saw that his smile had broadened into a leer. She stepped forward and scooped up some more soap. This time, she idly rubbed the foam around her hips and stomach for a moment, waiting until he moved impatiently forward to drop her hands down and begin lathering her pubic hair. She spent a considerable amount of time doing this, using one hand to carefully cleanse herself between her legs as she stroked herself with the other hand. Then she moved back under the water and rinsed off again. She dropped her right hand down to caress herself between the legs and her left hand moved upward and pinched her nipples again.
This time, when she opened her eyes, she saw that his other hand was outstretched in front of her again. She looked up at him, rather puzzled.
"Why don’t you brace against me while you wash your legs?" he suggested.
She nodded and leaned against the thumb of his left hand while he tilted his right hand enough to dribble some soap unto her legs. She carefully raised her foot and placed it into his palm, balancing against it as she used both hands to coax the bubbles along her firm, smooth skin. After rinsing off, she switched sides and did the same with her other leg.
"Very, very good," he whispered. He nodded down at her. "Now turn around and lean against the side of the sink while I wash your back."
She took in a deep breath and did as he asked, grabbing her mop of wet hair with her hand and pulling it around to the front. He placed another dab of soap on her back, and she felt the tips of his index and middle finger move gently across her shoulders and make small circling movements, slowly building the suds into a smooth lather. And then he moved his hand so that the stream of water flowed down it and carefully rinsed her off.
She moved to turn back, but found his finger pressing gently but firmly against the small of her back.
"Spread your legs," he said.
She gulped, and forced her legs further apart. She glanced down and saw the wet knuckle of his bent index finger slowly move in between her legs. He brought it up until he was firmly pressed against her and then he slowly drew it backwards.
She tried to stop herself, but she couldn’t restrain the moan of pleasure that escaped from her throat at the delightful feeling he had aroused. She heard him laugh and then he moved his finger forward again. She sucked in her breath and her hands slipped slightly against the wet surface of the sink as her legs tightened around him, trying to bring him back up against her again. He stroked forward and backward again, and she again cried out in pleasure.
"Yes, see how nice it can be when you cooperate?" he whispered, bringing his head closer to her. He laughed and abruptly dropped his hand away. She braced herself against the sink and drew in a deep breath, trying to compose herself again.
She heard the squeaking sound of the taps being closed and she whirled around. He was holding a dry washcloth in his hands and he swiftly moved to wrap her up in it. A moment later, she was again lifted high up into the air as he carried her in his hands. She tried to look around her to see where they were going, but the quickness of his pace and the height at which she was being held made her dizzy, and she soon decided it was better to close her eyes.
She found herself being lowered and dropped unto something soft and silky. She raised her head, opened her eyes and looked around her.
Oh, great. Now she was on his bed.
To be specific, she was lying upon a pillow covered in a rich, dark-green shade of satin. Snape was bending over her again and she lay rigidly still as he unwrapped the washcloth from around her. She shivered again and he frowned down at her for a moment. Then he brought his hand to his pocket and the next thing she knew his wand was pointed directly at her head. He started to murmur a spell, and she found herself shuddering and closing her eyes, terrified that he was going to curse her. To her relief, it appeared that he was merely performing a drying spell, for she felt her hair instantly become dry and curly again. He smiled and moved back slightly to place the wand on the edge of the table that stood at the bedside. He took the washcloth in his hands again and used it to carefully dry her off. He wiped down her arms and legs first and then bent closer and blew on her warmly as he paid special attention to drying off her breasts and stomach with small, quick strokes. With one finger, he flipped her over on her stomach and dried off her buttocks and back. To her relief, he allowed the cloth to drop back down on top of her.
"Now then, Miss O’Brien, I do recommend that you stay right here while I go get something," he said.
She nodded and stayed faced down as she felt the bed move slightly as he arose from it. She listened as his footsteps faded away and then she slowly turned over and sat up, drawing the ends of the cloth around her.
It appeared to be a very big bed, covered by a large satin quilt emblazoned with the Slytherin House emblem. She glanced at the bedside table and saw that he had taken his wand with him. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. Not that she had held out much hope of being able to use it, considering that it was larger than she was. But, still…..
She frowned down at her toes. She hoped that he had decided that she had been humiliated enough and was out in the other room retrieving the bottle of antidote. Although, she was starting to suspect, from the distinctly lascivious gleam in his eyes, that she would not be leaving his rooms, or his bed any time soon.
She found herself shivering again. But whether it was truly fear or if there was just a smidgen of anticipation in her reaction, she was not quite sure. And she didn’t particularly feel like examining the reasons why she might be interested in having sex with Snape. After all, she wasn’t a virgin, but her two forays into sexual intimacy had hardly been satisfying.
The first had been nearly a year and a half ago. She and one of her fellow Ravenclaw students had been blasted out of the rose bushes by Snape himself and had retreated to one of the darkened classroom to continue what they had started. But, the fear of being discovered had made the boy even more hasty than he might have been, with the result that his fumbling fingers had done little to either prepare or arouse her before that first, painful penetration. And it seemed to be over immediately, the joining being swift, uncomfortable and ultimately disappointing, to the point that she wondered why everyone thought it was so great. They had crept out of the classrooms to return to the ball, and after she had retired to her room that night she had cried herself to sleep. The next morning, she had been frostily civil to the boy, and after another week of rebuffing his advances, found that he had lost interest.
Her second time had been at home over the past winter break. Her older brother had stopped by for a visit with one of his friends, and she had flirted and chatted happily with the handsome young wizard. The young man had returned a few nights later and, finding her alone, had invited her to step out for a bite to eat with him. The restaurant had been crowded and noisy, and she had happily acquiesced with his suggestion that they pick up some fish and chips to take back to his apartment. Once there, he had opened up a bottle of wine, and within an hour or so she had found herself so agreeably tipsy that she made no protest when he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. A few hours later, she had awoken with a vicious headache and the weight of the still half-dressed boy on top of her, with little memory of what had happened. Other than the fact that it had again been abrupt and had not been particularly enjoyable. She had jumped out of the bed, gotten dressed and snuck back to her own house just minutes before her parents returned from their own night out. And the boy had never called upon her again.
She brought her head up as she heard Snape’s footsteps nearing the door again. He was carrying the bottle of antidote in one hand. And, in the other, was a large goblet of wine. He placed both of these objects down on the table and, smiling down at her, raised his fingers to his shirt and began to unbutton it. She swallowed and put her head down again and tried to ignore what he was doing. A few minutes later, the bed creaked and dipped again, and she looked up to see that he was sitting down and taking off his shoes and socks. She found herself unable to tear her eyes away as he stood, facing away from her, and undid his trousers. Underneath, he was wearing a pair of black silk boxers that looked sinfully smooth and soft. Then he turned around and she was unable to keep her eyes from traveling down to the spot where a large bulge was straining at the fabric. He bent over slightly and peeled the quilt, blankets and top sheet back and left them lying at the end of bed. He climbed back onto the bed and the next thing she knew the whole pillow she was lying on was lifted into the air. He sat back against the headboard and placed the pillow across his lap and stared down at her. She was still sitting up, the folds of the washcloth wound tightly around her again.
Although he had not removed his shirt, he had undone all of the buttons and a large expanse of his smooth, pale white chest was visible. He leaned over to retrieve the wineglass and took a large swallow of the deep red liquid. Then he carefully brought the glass down and held it with one hand while dipping the forefinger of his right hand into it. A moment later he held it out in front of her face, inviting her to take a taste.
She shook her head.
"Don’t you like wine, Miss O’Brien?" he asked, dipping his finger lower and allowing the drop to touch her throat.
She shivered as the liquid ran down her front and trickled down unto the fabric covering her chest.
"Not especially," she replied
She waited a moment, watching him swallow and replace the glass back on the bedside table before speaking again. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
"Don’t worry, Miss O’Brien," he said, his tone superior and mocking, "I promise not to damage you."
Her hands grabbed unto the soft fabric covering the pillow as he moved it again, this time off to the side.
"In fact," he continued, "considering your reaction in the sink, I think you might enjoy this more than you expect."
He pulled the pillow down and closer to him and knelt over it. "Turn over on your stomach again," he said.
She remained in her seated position, hugging her knees with her hands and refusing to move.
"Do you want the antidote or not?" he growled.
She slowly unwound from her position and moved to lie on her stomach.
"Good," he said. She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers tug and remove the washcloth from her again. He tossed over the far side of the bed. "Now relax."
Instead, her whole body stiffened and she kept her legs close together as she felt him lean down over her, his hot breath, tinged with the scent of the wine, wafting over her. And then she felt the very tip of his wet, tongue flick gently against the small of her back. She gasped, and felt her buttocks tighten as her vaginal muscles spasmed unexpectedly in response. He laughed and licked her quickly again, this time noting that her hands gripped into tight fists and her back was beginning to arch up towards him. He bent down again, and this time used his tongue to leave a light, most trail all along her backbone. This time she could not keep from rising up to meet him.
He smiled down at her and gave her a few, light strokes with his tongue along her arms. And then he dipped his head down lower and he slowly worked his tongue along the top of her legs, going from the soles of her feet up to her lovely bottom. This time, he felt her suppress a moan.
"Yes, why don’t you spread your legs again, dear?" he whispered. "I think you’ll like my tongue even more than my finger."
Her eyes were closed and her arms were stretched out at right angles to her body. For a moment she quivered, and he could see that she was debating with herself whether or not to do as he asked.
"No," she whispered.
She heard him laugh, and felt the bed jiggle as he raised himself up.
"You are stubborn, aren’t you?" he chided.
She opened her eyes and twisted her neck around to see what he was doing. He had opened up a drawer in the bedside table and was rummaging about for something. A moment later, he was lifting a small bottle out of the drawer and unscrewing the lid. He poured a bit of the liquid into the palm of his left hand and then placed the bottle on the table, moving to kneel over the pillow again.
"Let’s try this, then, shall we?" he said, lightly.
The next thing she knew, he had flipped her over on her back again. As she looked up at him, he was rubbing the fingertips of his right hand against his left palm.
"I’ll even warm it up a bit," he said.
As he knelt down over her, she tried to use her arms to shield herself, but found that he easily forced his finger under her flailing arms. The next thing she knew, she felt him leave a light trail of the almond-scented massage oil over her breasts and stomach. And then he dipped his finger down and she found herself squirming against the pillow as he rubbed the oil along the inside of her legs. The next thing she knew, he was using the thumb and forefinger of his left hand to spread her legs apart and was gently rubbing the oiled tip of the little finger of his right hand against her genitals. He held her firmly, massaging the smooth, softened skin up and into her, and after a few moments she stopped struggling and found herself actually pressing back against him, enjoying the warm, gliding feel of his finger, especially with the added slickness of the oil. After a few moments, he released his hold and smiled as she kept her legs spread willingly.
Without stopping that motion, he bent back over her and this time flicked his tongue gently on top of her oiled breasts. She gasped and arched her back, and held her legs even further apart, starting to buck up against him. Then, his fingertip was removed, and she gave a soft howl of protest. But a second later that sound had turned into a loud moan as he worked his tongue down to take its place. She raised her legs and her small feet rubbed against the smooth skin of his cheeks as he continued to pleasure her.
When he stopped and raised his head to look back down at her, he could see that her whole body was flushed and that her small, pink nipples were hard and pointed. He smiled and blew softly against her and laughed as she groaned out loud. He raised himself back up on his knees.
"Don’t worry," he chided, "I’m not abandoning you. But," he continued, moving his hands down to his waist, "I want some satisfaction too."
She stared and gulped as his fully erect member leaped out in front of him, freed from the restraint of the fabric as he pulled aside the underwear. Granted, her sense of perspective was rather skewed at the moment. But, she was beginning to have serious doubts that he would fit in her when she was back to her normal size.
So what the hell did he expect her to do now?
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Potions and Punishments