Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

I just wanted to ask	By : evil-minded Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 31281 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any character from it, Rowling does … I do not make any money out of Harry Potter either, again – Rowling does … I however do own Herbaceous VanHarkins – but I don’t make money of him also … :D …

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Notes:

Uhm … ok … I have to admit … English is not my language by birth … so … please do not kill me while reading … neither for the bad English I use, nor for what I am writing …

And yes, I really would appreciate it, if you would honor my work with a short review as I always will honor your comments with an answer … Answers to reviews you have given or the chance to discuss the story you can find here: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/34437-review-replies-for-i-just-wanted-to-ask/

Warning:

Story contains references to child abuse:

Child abuse is a really serious thing, it is an evil thing and there are a lot of children in our world that really would need help without being helped, and closing our eyes and pretending it does not exist – is no solution … handle people, children as well as adults, which are showing any signs – whichever – of once being abused … with understanding and with help …

what does not mean I am not as evil as I pretend to be … ^.~ … believe me – I am …

Story contains adult stuff:

Especially sex between two men … as there is Harry Potter – a male – having sex with Severus Snape – another male … what means those gay things … not to mention that the relationship between the two of them is one based on BDSM …

Don't like it, don't read it …

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

Previously in I just wanted to ask

He feared going down there and back to Snape. And he knew that it was some kind of fear. But at the same time he wanted to go to the Potions Master nevertheless. And it really was not that unpleasant. On the contrary. Just now, in this moment, it was – nearly pleasant.

So – yes – to come back to his original question – what the hell was wrong with him?

I just wanted to ask

Chapter four

The birds and the bees

This evening Snape was sitting in the armchair he had transfigured from the chair behind his desk, waiting for Potter and he felt quite comfortable with the oncoming situation. It still might be a bit strange how everything had changed last evening, but he couldn't bring himself to mind.

Somehow they had not only managed to have a civil conversation. He even had enjoyed it. But there was more.

Well, he already had known that Harry – still he wondered when exactly Potter had become Harry during the evening before – had not been the spoiled prince he always had thought him to be. He had known it since the occlumency lessons last year. The memories he had seen back then had showed him that the boy didn't have such a pleasant home life. It was a home life filled with cruel taunting, with hatred and it was a home life that missed every welcoming feelings. But he never had allowed himself to admit it, to even acknowledge it. It had been much easier to keep hold on the old picture of a spoiled brat.

Well, and yes, he somehow had known that Harry indeed was not an arrogant snot, that he rather was a kind and caring boy that showed respect and manners towards the teachers. And he did not only know this because Albus and Minerva always or some of the other teachers at Hogwarts sometimes had told him so. No, he knew it, because any other boy, whom he would have handled like he had Harry, would have gone against him long ago. It was just the same – it had been much easier to keep hold on the picture of an ungrateful, rude and arrogant snot.

Of course Harry surely had complained about him in the corridors or in the great hall, and presumably in his common room just as well. But honestly, not only did every student complain about him, Harry also had every right doing so. He had humiliated and ridiculed him since the first potions class he'd had the boy in. But Harry never had offended him openly, not even to defend himself.

And there was the fact that the boy really had apologized to him after the incident with his pensive last year. The boy had written him a long letter a few weeks afterwards and he had sent him this letter together with a vial filled with some of his own memories and an apology for even what his father had done.

Snape sighed.

Needless to say he never had watched those memories. But he hadn't given them back to the teen yet either. Nor had he accepted the apology yet. Maybe it was time to do so now. The boy really had been sorry about it, and he really had tried to make it up to him. And the boy really was not his father. He was Harry Potter, not James Potter.

But still there was something else. Something that was known to him, something he recognized as strangely disturbing, but still he couldn't place a name to it. But something was quite amiss and he had the strange feeling that it was important.

Well, and not to mention that there was the little fact, that Harry indeed was desirable. The black hair that was as unruly as his father's had been, yet – Harry didn't mess it up even more like James always had done. He just ran his hand through it if he was thinking or if he was frustrated. And the green eyes that could go so large, those green eyes, just like Lily's eyes had been. Yet – Harry's green eyes held not the same joy and smile than Lily's had held. They were darker, filled with unsureness and something akin to fear, something akin to pain.

For a moment he felt the painful twist in his chest he always felt when he thought about Lily.

Lily Evans. Harry's mother.

Yes, Lily had been the woman he once had loved, the only woman he ever had loved. The only person he ever had loved.

Had his view of Harry changed, because of Lily? Because he was Lily's son? Because he had Lily's eyes?

For a moment he considered this possibility. But then, no. Would that have been the case, well, then he never would have hated Harry in the first place.

The soft knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts and he knew immediately that it was Harry standing outside. He recognized the soft and careful knock as Harry's, no one else knocked so softly.

"Come in." He called, getting to his feet to pour the tea into the cups that already stood on the coffee table he had transfigured out of the desk just as he had dome yesterday and then he watched Harry entering his office and closing the door behind him as softly as he had knocked. The boy really was silent, not one of the boosting Bactrian camels he was used to.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter." He said.

The boy sat down into the armchair he had occupied last night and he again sat there on the edge of the furniture, as if being unsure if he had placed himself correctly Snape thought and he lifted his eyebrow.

"You are allowed to sit into this armchair a bit more comfortably, Mr. Potter." He said, smirking at the youth. "You do not have to linger on the edge of it."

"Uhm …" The teen made and he averted his eyes. "I am comfortable, sir." He then answered and Snape's eyebrow rose even higher.

"Well then, Mr. Potter." He said, suppressing a shake of his head. Why was it that Potter always needed at least half an hour to get comfortable in his presence?

Well, ok, maybe it was his own fault. He hadn't handled him very nice for the past five years, since the boy had arrived at Hogwarts.

"Do you have any questions about what we have discussed yesterday evening, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked and he was prepared to gain a shaking of the teen's head and to have a monolog once again. He really wondered why he did this. If he wanted to hold a soliloquy, then he surely didn't need Potter sitting opposite him, witnessing his insanity.

"Yes, sir. I have." Harry answered and Snape nearly choked on the tea he had taken a sip from, lifting his eyebrow at him to hide the shock he felt. "What exactly is … well … uhm … you know …"

"I know what, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, folding his arms in front of his chest. "You might address that which is occupying this mind of yours while there actually is something in it."

The teenager blushed and cast a quick glance at him before he looked aside to watch the dancing flames of the fire and for a moment Snape wondered what this look meant. There was no anger in those green eyes, rather something like amusement. A few days earlier the boy would have gotten angry, or he would have gotten depressed at such a comment. And now he was – amused?

"Well …" Potter sighed heavily. "I mean … well … BDSM? What exactly is it?"

"Ah." Snape made, barely able to suppress a smirk. "Do you know anything about it, or do we have to cover it entirely?"

"I don't know." The teen murmured, his blush deepening. "I heard the term, but I don't know what it is."

"Well, that might take some time then." Snape sighed and he wondered where to begin.

"I'm sorry." The boy murmured, looking really guilty now and Snape lifted his eyebrow. Did Potter really apologize for not knowing what BDSM meant?

"Whatever for, Mr. Potter?" He asked curiously.

"Because it might take time. Valuable time you could use otherwise, sir." The teen nearly whispered and now Snape really was surprised. This boy in front of him really was not the boy he always had seen. Not only was he a kind and silent child, contrary to what his father had been, he also was not a boosting idiot but just unsure in every means of life as it seemed, especially of himself.

"Don't be, Mr. Potter." Snape growled at the boy and he lifted his eyebrow when the brat nearly flinched. "I would not sit here and waste my time – as you so eloquently suggested it – on a hormonal teenager such as yourself if I would not want to do this."

He leaned back, watching Potter who pressed his fingers around the cup in his hands in order to warm them, and for a moment he thought that he would have to warm his quarters if they continued with this into the fall. The teen was just too thin and he soon would freeze down here when it got a bit colder. Shaking his head at his own thoughts he waved his wand and a plate with sandwiches appeared from the kitchens below.

"Take a sandwich, Mr. Potter." He growled again. "I didn't see you eating much today."

In fact he hadn't seen Potter eating anything else than a slice of bare toast during dinner.

At breakfast he'd had nothing else than his usual cup of tea, lunch he had skipped at all and during dinner he had eaten nothing more than – the slice of toast. As he had done the day before, he remembered. And no, the boy hadn't even eaten this slice of toast. Nooooo, he had nibbled at it. Imagine – nibbled!

"Thank you, sir." Harry murmured, glad that he'd began to eat during dinner at least. He would be able to stomach a sandwich – or part of it. He hoped so at least.

"Well, as to begin with an answer to your question. the acronym BDSM, is derived from the terms bondage and discipline, BD, dominance and submission, DS and sadism and masochism, SM, and is a form of consensual role-play between two or more individuals who use their experiences of imagination, fantasy, pain, fear, and power to create sexual pleasure, tension and – finally release." Snape said in a voice as if he would explain how to create a correct potion. Well, he had given some of his students 'the talk', but it surely was the first time he had a conversation with one of them about BDSM and he had to admit that he felt quite out of place somehow. So better go the professional way with this.

Potter looked up at him, the sandwich forgotten on his plate and he blinked in near shock.

"I'm sorry, sir." He said in his low voice, blinking a few times more before he averted his eyes again. "But … still I do not see why fear would be a part of … well … having … uhm … sex."

For a moment Snape said nothing and he just watched the teenager in front of him. Could he dare? Wouldn't he overstep his boundaries?

"Do you trust me, Mr. Potter?" Snape finally asked, coming to a decision and leaning back in his chair.

"Yes, I do." Harry answered, blinking in confusion, clearly not understanding.

For a few more moments Snape gave no explanation to his question, was just sitting there, watching him with a thoughtful look in his dark eyes. But then he got up and walked towards Harry, his eyes still trained on the teenager and he stopped close beside him, looking down at him, noticing the stiffening of the brat's muscles. He still said nothing, he didn't move, he just stood there, watching him curiously.

Harry looked up at the Potions Master and his insides squirmed. What did Snape want from him? He surely had a reason to get up and to stand beside him, yet – he didn't move, he didn't say anything. He just watched him with this strange look on his face. What did the man want?

"Sir?" He asked unsurely and even he could hear the fear in his own voice.

Snape watched Potter for a few more seconds, narrowing his eyes, wondering why the teen stiffened, trying to judge what kind of fear the boy momentarily felt – and why.

"Close your eyes, Mr. Potter!" He then said, his voice barely more than a whisper but it definitely was a command.

The teenager still watched him in confusion, the fear in his eyes deepening and his hands curling into fists.

"Close – your – eyes, Mr. Potter!" Snape repeated, still in a low voice, slowly, but with a bit more force, fixing Harry with a demanding gaze and this time the teen slowly obeyed and closed his eyes, unsureness and fear clearly written over his face and the stiffening of his body increased.

Snape did nothing for a few more moments besides of watching him close, judging his own next step and at the same time building up the tension in the teenager.

But then he slowly extended his hand and lightly ran his fingers over the boy's exposed neck, noticing the startled flinch Potter gave away before running his fingers towards the other side of the teenager's neck. He stopped there, keeping the skin contact and bent downwards.

"Keep your eyes closed, Mr. Potter. But do stop me if you wish me to stop." He whispered into the boy's ear.

He again paused a few seconds before he ran his fingers lightly towards the front, touching the teen's chin, his cheeks and then running his fingers towards the small ears and from there downwards back to the boy's neck.

Harry's breathing had become uneven and Snape could tell that his heart beat quicker now, he noticed the face that was a mask of fear and concentration and he noticed the small hands that still were curled into fists, the boy slightly trembling.

"Do you fear this?" Snape whispered into his ear, causing strands of his hair to move and again the boy flinched but he gave no answer and Snape ran his fingers back to the front of the boy, towards his throat.

"Do you want me to stop?" Snape whispered but again Harry gave no answer.

Opening the first button of the teen's shirt Snape ran his fingers over the collarbone, noticing how thin the boy really was and he frowned before he finally pulled his hand back and retreated a step.

It took a few seconds for Harry to realize that the touch had ended and he slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times and gazing through the room, startling when his eyes fell onto the Potions Master that still stood beside him, watching him close.

Waiting a few more moments until he could be sure the teenager wouldn't start to panic Snape still watched the boy close, until the green eyes fell onto him and he could see recognition in them before he shortly inclined his head towards Potter and then went back to his armchair, sitting down.

"What did you feel, Mr. Potter?" He then asked.

Harry swallowed dryly and he only could shake his head, not able yet to voice what thoughts stumbled through his head, not able to voice what feelings stumbled through him.

Lifting his eyebrow Snape reached into his robes and pulled out a small vial with a calming draught, knowing that he wouldn't get any answers out of the boy now and he refilled the teen's tea cup and poured half of the potion into the tea. He didn't want the brat too calm, didn't want to suppress his emotions or his reactions. He just wanted the brat calm enough so he would be able to continue the conversation at all.

"Drink this, Mr. Potter." He said, shoving the cup in front of the teenager, watching him unclenching his fists and reaching trembling fingers towards the warm porcelain. He waited a few more minutes, allowing his mind to work in the silence while he watched Potter in front of him, drinking his tea, and when he thought he could be sure that the boy was responsive again he continued the conversation.

"Feeling better, Mr. Potter?" He asked, gaining a nod from the brat. "Good. Now, tell me, what did you feel?"

"I don't know, sir." The teenager answered, his voice low and unsure.

"Was it fear what you felt?"

There were a few moments of silence and Potter lowered his gaze towards the ground before the teen whispered a choked "yes" and Snape frowned again at him.

"And you are ashamed of it." He stated, gaining no answer this time and he shook his head. "There is no reason to be, Mr. Potter." He said, leaning back in his armchair. "Everyone with some sense in his mind would fear this situation. I told you to close your eyes and you weren't able to see what I would do. And every one with a common sense in his brain would feel fear at being touched thus by his last favorite professor. So, there is no reason to be ashamed of your fear."

He watched the boy nodding before he continued and asked his next question. "What kind of fear was it you felt, Mr. Potter?" He asked.

Again there was silence for a few moments before the boy answered. "I don't know, sir."

Watching Potter for a while Snape recognized that the teenager really didn't know what exactly he had felt and he suppressed a sigh. It was like he had thought yesterday. The boy never had allowed himself to feel and thus he now didn't know what it was he felt now.

Harry might feel things like anger, he might feel things like fun, maybe even things like joy – yet, he doubted it somehow. There was no joy in the brat's eyes. And he might feel fear and pain. But neither was he able to define what exactly he felt, nor did he allow himself to recognize it as what it was.

Well, he guessed that the brat did recognize it. He just didn't allow himself to acknowledge it.

"Let me put it another way, Mr. Potter." He said. "Was this kind of fear unpleasant?"

Harry only shook his head and Snape waited a few moments more.

"Was this kind of fear you felt pleasant then?" He asked.

"I don't know, sir." Harry whispered and the Potions Master immediately knew that he didn't allow himself to acknowledge the fear he had felt to actually being pleasant, that he wasn't sure if it was right or wrong to feel at all and he had to suppress a further sigh. How would he be able to find out what exactly Potter had felt if he wasn't able to describe it?

"Well, Mr. Potter. Let me ask you another question. Would you allow me to do this again?" He asked, leaning back in his armchair.

"I don't know, sir." The teen murmured, averting his eyes and Snape nodded. Potter would.

"I guess you do know." He calmly said. "And I guess you would allow me to repeat this. And thus, I guess the fear you felt had been – to some point at least – pleasant. Do you now begin to understand what exactly I mean when I say that fear is not always unpleasant?"

"Yes, sir, I guess I do." Harry softly answered.

Snape nodded. "It was your own choice. You could have opened your eyes at every point you wanted. And you could have stopped me at every point you wanted. You had this decision in your own hands. It was your choice and yours alone. Giving away some of your power to a caring partner never means that you give away your control over the situation. You always can stop it and you always have a choice."

"If anyone really would care." Harry murmured, his voice only a sad whisper.

"I beg your pardon?" Snape asked, not sure if he had heard correctly.

"Nothing, sir." The teenager answered, looking at the Potions Master startled. He hadn't meant to hear him saying anything. He hadn't meant to say anything at all.

"Do you wish to stop the discussion here for today?" The Potions Master asked, hoping that the boy wouldn't want to stop it now. He didn't know why he wanted to continue. It was Potter after all. The son of his childhood enemy. The one student that annoyed him the most, he loathed the most.

But then – no, he did not really loath the boy. Not anymore, and probably he never had really loathed him in the past either. Not really.

Watching him close he again tried to find an answer to his earlier question, to why and when this had changed, but again he didn't find one. He just couldn't hate the boy anymore. Not with the knowledge that he wasn't the arrogant and spoiled brat that James Potter had been. Not with the knowledge – or acknowledging it in the first place – that Harry Potter was just a boy that in reality was polite and respectful. And not with the acceptance of the boy's apology.

"No, sir." Potter shook his head after he took a deep breath and Snape nearly sighed a sigh of relief. "You … you mentioned … you mentioned … pain … as well, sir." The teen then murmured, still not looking at him. "But … even if I … well, why would anyone want to feel that? By free will?" Potter looked up at him for the first time since he had touched the boy and Snape lowered his head to one side in a questioning manner when he noticed that there was more the boy wanted to say. "I mean, that is different. Pain is pain. And pain always is – just pain and nothing more."

"That is not entirely correct. As there is a difference between fear and fear, as you already have learned, Mr. Potter, there also is a difference between pain and pain." Snape explained and he was startled by how gentle and caring his own voice sounded. "Let me give you an example. If someone bites your neck during an argument it might be painful, and this kind of pain is an unpleasant pain as it is caused during an all-day situation without you being stimulated. The same pain on the other hand, a bite on your neck, inflicted from your partner during sexual activities where endorphins are released might be a quite pleasant one."

The teen's face made clear that Harry didn't believe a word he said and he sighed. "Well, the philosopher Talassio Amatio for example defined this sensation of pleasure derived from pain by the words 'magical high'." He explained, hoping that the teen would understand what he tried to tell him. "Those regions of the brain that handle sexual stimulation and pain, they overlap, resulting in some individuals associating pain with sexual pleasure as the neurological reactions are intertwined."

"But, sir … what … what has … pain … to do with the brain?" Potter asked in confusion.

"Pain is something that is controlled by your brain." Snape answered, trying to find a way to explain it in a way so the boy would understand it. "As is sexual stimulation. And fear. It all comes back to your brain. There is – call it a control-system – that controls how much pain, stimulation or fear you actually feel, in which situations it is pleasant and in which situations it is unpleasant. And as this control system is in the same room, it can get mixed up together. In other words, pain as well as fear can be pleasant or unpleasant, depending on – if you are aroused or not."

Sighing defeated the teenager nodded and Snape immediately knew that he still didn't believe him. Well, he would learn it some day if he was right and for a moment a strange thought crossed his mind. Well, not really a thought, more the feeling of a thought. He brushed it away for now.

"However, let me try to explain the different terms to you, Mr. Potter." He said, continuing with the original subject. He would come back to the pleasant aspects of pain and fear during sexual stimulation on a later time, well – maybe. "Bondage and Discipline are two aspects of BDSM that do not necessarily relate to one another, but can appear together. The term bondage describes the practice of restraining for pleasure. Strictly spoken, bondage means binding the partner by tying his or her limbs together – or by spreading them."

Potter by now had placed his head in his hands, groaning in frustration and Snape nearly smirked.

"That is stupid! Sir." The brat murmured between his fingers.

"Why would that be, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer.

"Because no one would want to … well … you know …"

"I know what, Mr. Potter?" Snape growled – yet, he noted that his growl didn't sound as threatening as it normally would. "You might voice your thoughts. If you ever want to get over this shyness of yours, then you would have to learn to address things as they are."

Looking up at him for a moment the teen shook his head and then sacked back into a ball, his face buried in his arms that lay above his knees. "Because no one would want to … be restrained as you said. And especially not during … well … sex."

"You would be surprised about how much people actually would want this, Mr. Potter." Snape said.

"How?" Harry then asked. "How can anyone want this?"

"It is possible as – and here we come to the part of BDSM being consensual – it is in your own hands how far your partner would go, Mr. Potter, and when he would stop with whatever he is doing. And if it is not consensual, then it is rape and thus a crime. But as long as it is consensual, as long as both partners have agreed to it, everything is allowed and – nearly – everything can be pleasant. You just need the right partner and you need to trust your partner. You need to trust him blindly. That he would not hurt you, and that he knows what he does."

Again sighing in defeat the teen nodded and again Snape immediately knew that he still didn't believe him. He continued nevertheless.

"The term discipline describes the use of rules and punishment to control behavior in BDSM. Punishment always will be physically as well as psychologically. If the bottom is caned, it is physically. But it is psychologically as well as the bottom feels the anticipation. Is the bottom only restrained, it is psychically, for the loss of freedom, but physically as well as his or her body is restrained."

This time Potter didn't say anything, he just shook his head that still lay on his arms.

"You still do not believe me, Mr. Potter." Snape stated, amusement in his voice. He still remembered that he himself had reacted the very same way when he had been confronted with the subject for the first time.

"That is even more stupid as is the rest, sir." Potter said. "I don't know much about … well … sex, yes. But even I know that this has nothing to do with it. It is force and it is cruel and it is … it is … is … damn, I don't know what it is, but it sounds like it's really terrible and horrible."

Noticing what he had said the teen nearly gasped. "I'm sorry, sir." He quickly mumbled.

"There is no reason to be, Mr. Potter." Snape answered. "This is a discussion and thus you may voice your opinion. On the contrary. I am glad that you finally partake in this conversation so I do not have to address the wall behind you."

Again there was something like amusement blazing in Potter's eyes, just for a second before it was gone, and the teen's face was back to a mask of confusion and fear and Snape lifted his eyebrow.

"But I do not understand it, sir." Potter managed to say. "Why would anyone want to have such? To be restrained? You even mentioned punishment and … and … well …"

"And what, Mr. Potter?" Snape sighed in annoyance. He had to remind him – yet again – to voice what he wanted to say.

Swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath Harry managed to say "and beatings" before he buried his face back onto his arms, his body tense. Yet, Snape had noticed and he had noticed the blush too that was gone now, the face that had become pale and he frowned at the teenager in front of him.

"Surely I did not mention a beating, Mr. Potter." He said, his voice very serious now. "I mentioned a caning. And those two words do not mean the same. A beating is senseless thrashing with hands, fists, and whatever beating instruments one might find. It is not what covers behavior in BDSM. A caning is an art. It is need of skill there and practice. Otherwise you could hurt your partner severely."

Potter mumbled something incoherent that sounded like just asking someone.

"I beg your pardon?" Snape asked. "I did not understand that last one."

"Nothing, sir." Potter answered, his face still pale and Snape narrowed his eyes at the brat. Somehow it disturbed him, he wasn't able to put a name to it, but the teen's reaction somehow disturbed him. Well, he had reacted the same way, but that had been for a reason. He had learned what pain meant from a very young age on. What real pain meant.

"Shall we call it to an end here, Mr. Potter?" He asked.

"No, sir." The teen softly answered. "If I go now, I won't come back."

"What exactly is it, Mr. Potter, that disturbs you so much at the thought?" Snape wanted to know. "A lot of people would be rather aroused at this thought."

"I just can't imagine that anyone would want this." The boy answered in a low voice. "It just sounds like a hellhole of pain and fear. It sounds … it sounds … cruel."

"And it might be, if practiced with the wrong partner or if it isn't consensual." Snape said, leaning back. "With the wrong partner whom you do not trust, the fear you would feel would not be a pleasant one but real fear. And with the wrong partner who does not know what he does, you – most likely – would not feel pleasant pain but real pain, with the possibility of real injury. What is the exact as to reason why I told you, you do need the right partner for such. And if it is not consensual, then too it is not pleasant but force. It would be – as I already told you – rape and thus a crime."

"But I still do not understand it, sir." Harry said, shaking his head.

"And I guess you will not understand until you made your own experiences in the subject." Snape sighed in frustration. Why had the boy to be so stubborn? Why wouldn't he want to use his fantasy? His imagination? Why had the boy to be so …

Well, shaking his head Snape had to remind himself that he had been just as stubborn, that he had been just as ignorant and that he had been just as unbelieving as Potter now was when he had been educated in this special art of sex. Until he'd had his first careful experiences and he wondered if his Master back then had been as frustrated with him as he now was with the teen in front of him.

Well, at least he'd had one advantage. He was a wizard.

Harry would not be able to fool him – by untying himself for example, and he nearly chuckled at the memory.

The Master who had educated him in BDSM had been a muggle and well – he, Severus, he had driven him mad sometimes when he was annoyed at the man. Now – years later – he knew that it hadn't been fair. But back then, he just had been annoyed when his Master didn't allow him to touch himself while he was in need of doing just this.

How he had ended up being educated by a muggle, accepting anyone at all as a Master, well, he didn't really remember it exactly.

He had been young, a teenager himself, he had been frustrated, and he had been angry. And he had been wandering the streets of London aimlessly.

He had known that Lily would be the only woman he ever would love, could love. And he had known that Lily had loved him back. But he also had known that there had been Potter, James Potter, and that this damn macho was about to dance around the woman he loved. Today he knew that Lily hadn't been interested in Potter in this way, that he had married Potter only because Dumbledore had expected this of her. But back then he had feared that Lily wouldn't love him anymore. That she would begin to love Potter.

After all Potter had had an own estate. He had not had such.

Potter had been free and he had been about to become an Auror. He – Severus – hadn't been free from his abusing father back then and he had been about to gain his mastery in potions only.

Potter had been handsome, at least everyone had said so. He, Severus, was not and never had been.

There had been so many things, and he had been beaten by his father this very evening and so he had run away and had been wandering the nightly streets through London when he had stumbled over the muggle.

The man had lifted his eyebrow upon seeing him and he had taken him into a pub where he – without further ado – had shoved him into a room in the back to clean the cuts on his face.

He still didn't know why he had allowed this man doing so. He normally would have denied everything and he normally would have threatened the man to leave him alone, refusing help as always. But this man, he had been radiating strength, sureness and safety, an aura that left no room for arguments, even as a muggle, and Severus the boy – he had given in to the man.

Soon they had been discussing the subjects of the abuse he had gone through at the hands of his father, and soon the man had told him "you will not go back there, Severus. I do not have much, but I have a spare room and you will have a warm meal each day".

Well, and so Severus had freed himself from his father and he had ended up living with a stranger, a muggle.

Soon after that they had talked about Lily, about Potter, about sex in general, about the finer art of BDSM and at first Severus had been disgusted. He even had accused the man that he wouldn't do anything different than his father had done if he practiced BDSM.

Well, the man had just smiled at him and he had shown him what BDSM exactly was. That it wasn't abuse, that it wasn't mistreatment. And that it wasn't horrible. He had shown him that it was pleasant. That it sometimes meant pain, even fear, yes – but that it was pleasant pain, and that it was more pleasant anticipation than actual fear, that it was nothing akin to what his father had done to him. And he had learned.

Later, a few weeks later, he'd been sleeping with Lily. He had shown her what he wanted, he had shown her what sex had become to him, and she had been fascinated. She had told him that she never before had felt so safe and so relaxed, so anticipated, even tense at the same time, that she had never felt the same way with Potter.

Well, of course he had learned everything afterwards from his Master back then that there was to learn about BDSM. And he gladly had played the submissive part as long as he'd had to in order to learn, in order to become perfect one day – for Lily.

This day had come, he had become a Master. Not only a Potions Master, but a Master concerning BDSM as well. His Master had said so. He had said to him that there wasn't anything more he could teach him, that he had become perfect. That he was impressed by the passion he displayed, by the perfect balance between keeping him suffering and keeping him stimulated.

And then Lily had died.

And it had been his fault.

Sighing he came back to the present and to the boy that still sat in front of him, watching him curiously.

"One day, you will understand, Mr. Potter. I am sure about this." Snape said.

"Do you understand?" Harry asked. "I mean, do you really understand? Do you know what it feels like? Do you … well … you know …"

"Do I know what, Mr. Potter?" Snape lifted his eyebrow towards the boy. "Do vocalize what you want to ask – or say."

"Well. Do you practice … well … this kind of … well … do you practice … BDSM?" The teenager asked and Severus nearly chuckled. This boy really could be slow sometimes.

"Did you not realize it yet, Mr. Potter?"

break … ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ … line

To be continued

Next time in I just wanted to ask

Going deeper into the subject … and giving in to what the heart tells …

Added author's note

thank you for reading - and yes, I would appreciate it if you took the time to review this chapter, thank you …
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I just wanted to ask