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
- 4
- 5
- 6
All right, I know it's been a long time, and I apologize. Besides having to almost totally rewrite this chapter (because I wasn't satisfied with it at all and I'm a bit of a perfectionist in my own way) I've also been sick, so apologies. That's part of that stinkin' "life" thing that all too often gets in the way. Now, let's get to reviews *rubs hands together greedily*
djaddict: Ha ha, I know, right? Why can't anyone else see it, I wonder? Oooh, Snape's voice is like ... sex personified. Seriously. Well ... I can't say there's sexin' in this chapter, but there is a little more ... stuff going on, lol. At any rate, hope you enjoy!
Anti-Form_Sora: Thanks, I'm glad you like it so much! Sorry the update's taken so long ... life stuff, as I said. Please enjoy the next chapter (;
sarah999: Well ... I know it's probably not nearly as soon as you hoped, but it's finally here. Yay! Hope you like (:
Catherine: Dom Snape is definitely the best, have to agree with you there (: Hope you enjoy the update!
Eve: Wow, that's quite a compliment *blushes* I'm so glad it was able to have such an impact (: Yep, yep, nervous and squirmy with Snape and headstrong and hot tempered with all else, lol. That's Harry for ya. Don't we just love him? Enjoy the update!
ladylin: You're very welcome, and thank you. I hope you like the next installment as well (;
Emma: Hi back! Wow, thank you! I can promise you it gets JUICY (semi-juicy?) in this one. Please enjoy!!
Bloodtear: Thanks so much, hope you like this next chapter, too!
Morbid_And_Sexy: Lol, so glad you enjoyed that! I love it when Severus flirts, it's just hot *sizzles and wipes forehead* Hope you like this next chapter just as much!
purropolisprincess: Thanks! I'm glad you like it (: (: I'm sorry this chapter has taken so stinkin' LONG for me to actually get up here, but here it is! Unfortunately, I don't know how to do chapter updates either. Sorry *makes big puppy-dog eyes* Hope you like the next chapter!
Krucksue: Here's more! Sorry it's taken a while. Enjoy!
jujukitty: Lol, well interesting is much better than totally boring *teasing smile* Yeah, I agree, it is a bit rushed, that's just me being lazy, though. I may eventually put out a prequel to this that would involve all the little signs of Harry's masochism and his interactions with Draco in which he begins to suspect there's something going on with the Boy-Who-Lived, but right now I'm just too lazy to do it. Thanks, I'm glad you liked the interaction between Snape and Harry in the last chapter. It seemed logical Harry would have a bit of a hard time accepting the fact that he has submissive and masochistic tendencies, plus it adds a little more drama, don't you think? Gotta love the drama! Anyway, thanks for leaving a review and I hope you enjoy the update!
Escarcha: Thank you very much! I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far, and I'm sorry for the delay in update, but here's the next chapter (;
Usegi: Pleasantly surprised ... I like that, lol. Glad you like it so far! Sorry about the slow updates. I'm not one of the types of authors that can put out a chapter a week or even, sometimes, a chapter a month.  Life often gets in the way for me as I'm battling several different health problems while trying to earn enough money to pay for medications and food with only a part time job. Because of my health issues I often find it difficult to get up the energy and the brain power to write, but I love writing, so that's why I'm doing this. I know the first four chapters have been rather short, but they're slowly lengthening out a bit more as I go along. Please bear with me. Rest assured, I am not the kind of author that abandons their story halfway through or a quarter of the way through or anything like that. I will finish this, though it may take quite a bit of time to do so. I grow very strong attachments to my stories. I know what you mean, though. I hate getting so deeply entrenched in a good story and then finding out the author has abandoned it. It's frustrating. *Tearing up* Thank you so much for the reassurance. I must say I was a little put out by that review, and it did affect my writing somewhat, but as you can see, I am back now with a new and (relatively speaking) long chapter. Woot woot! Again, thank you for the reassurance and also for sharing your view of that issue with me (: I cannot express to you how beneficial it was to hear that from you and to have you defend my fic in the way you did. Can I just say you're a very beautiful person? Best wishes to you and I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint!
nox_lumen: I am overwhelmed by the support I've been shown in the writing of my fic, and I thank you most sincerely for "chiming in as the voice of a sub" and expressing your view on the issue of self-harm in the context of the third chapter. It is very reassuring to me that you, as a sub, were able to understand what I was attempting to portray. And you are absolutely right on all accounts. I'm not experienced by far when it comes to D/s relationships and what they encompass, but as far as I've read (and I have read quite a fair bit since I received that review) you make very good and very valid points. Of course, that's kind of ironic coming from me to you, since you clearly have experience where I do not, but nevertheless, I wholeheartedly agree with your view. So, thank you. I've been so fortunate to have been gifted reviews by such beautiful and supportive people! It warms my heart to read such awesome comments (: I hope this chapter does not disappoint!! (Also, let me just say if ever you'd like to share anything regarding what you know of D/s relationships, I would be thrilled to hear it! I am always looking for more information regarding this topic. However, if you are unable to or are not comfortable talking about such things, as I know they can be regarded as very private, I am also content with what information you have already given in your review, so I hope you don't feel obliged to do so. Best regards!)
All right, this chapter will involve (in no particular order) masochism, sadism, whipping, spanking, nudity, profanity, lots of angst (as per usual), a bit of psychological ... pressure, we'll say, and general kinkiness. Again, please bear in mind I am in no way an expert on D/s relationships, psychology, or anything else that is in this fic, it is simply that, fiction and should not be taken too seriously. I am taking author's liberties with this and hope I do a passable job *presses hands together and prays fervently*
Well then, onto the chapter!!
Chapter Five
It was with some surprise and no little amount of irritation that Severus rose from his bed several hours after his visit to Hogwarts to an insistent, loud knocking on the front door of his country home. When he realized who it must be since the wards erected around his house hadn’t alerted him to the presence of anyone who didn’t belong—and Lucius would let himself in rather than taking the time to knock—the irritation quickly turned to curiosity and anticipation. Whatever it was had to be urgent if it couldn’t wait until the next morning.
“Mr. Potter,” Severus Snape drawled, putting on a mask of indifference and opening his door further to reveal the nervous face of his former student. “Is it fun rousing sleeping men from their beds—” he began disparagingly, but stopped with a heavy exhalation of air as the young man slammed into his chest. Stumbling backward a few steps, Severus reflexively wrapped his arms around the shorter wizard’s slim shoulders, steadying both of them. “Mr. Potter?” he inquired, concerned now.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled, head buried in his former professor’s robes. “I didn’t know … what else to do.”
Sighing, Severus pushed the other man away from him and cocked his head toward his living room. “Come in then, Mr. Potter.”
Ducking his head gratefully, Harry shuffled past the older wizard and heard the door shut behind him. He wished, irrationally, that Snape would have held onto him a little longer. The feel of him, the way he held him so securely, the firm body, the strong, masculine smell, it all just felt right. Like the man, his ‘Master’ in his dream. It wasn’t exactly the same. The man in his dream would have done much more than hold him, but it was close enough to make him feel a little better. A little less out of control.
He paused to wait for Snape who then stepped around him and gestured for him to follow him down the hall. Were he to walk without his eyes fixed on his feet he might’ve been surprised to see that the Potions master’s home was actually quite cozy. It was dark, but not in a frightening or cold kind of way. Rather, where they walked was dimly lit in a way that made the hallway and sitting room seem warm, almost welcoming.
“Coffee, Potter?” Severus asked, noting with a frown the way the young man plopped down on the sofa, head still bowed, and eyes still on his shoes, hands clenched tightly around his arms. The other wizard shook his head.
Fixing a cup for himself, Severus then took a seat on the sofa opposite the young man. It was hard to reconcile this meek, fragile person with the Harry Potter he had spoken to and bantered with only seven hours previous. What could have happened during that time? The youth was shaking, eyes darting every which way, but clearly seeing nothing of his surroundings. His nails embedded themselves in his arms, a habit Severus was coming to realize the younger man did without really noticing he was doing it. It was simply a reaction to whatever had upset him.
Not one to beat around the bush, Severus simply demanded, “Tell me what you came here for, Mr. Potter.”
Harry looked up for the first time, desperation and pleading in his green eyed gaze. “You … You told me not to hurt myself, a-and I haven’t … not … not yet, but I can’t calm down … I can’t calm down …” He sniffled as if about to cry, but his eyes were yet dry of tears. “It was … all my fault.” He sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed his arms even harder, the tips of his fingers biting into his skin, but giving no relief. Slowly, he started to rock. “All my fault. Th-They were after me … they’re always after me. Never should have … gotten close. Never should have survived … wasn’t meant to. Everything … Everything’s falling apart. I can’t do it anymore. They want me to … but I can’t. I can’t do it anymore!”
“Mr. Potter,” Severus called, trying to gain the attention of the former Gryffindor as he started into a clear panic attack. “Mr. Potter, look at me.”
Harry gripped his head, pulled at his hair. “I just wanna be left alone. Don’t wanna be a weapon anymore. Not again. Can’t do it. I just can’t. I can’t. I can’t. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t. Can’t ….”
“Damn it, Minerva,” Severus cursed quietly to himself as the young man continued to chant that one word and rock steadily back and forth and back and forth. What in the hell had she said to him? Couldn’t she see he was on the brink of a complete breakdown? What would have happened to the young man if he hadn’t come to see him? He didn’t even want to consider the possibilities.
Severus brought the cup to his lips and swallowed a generous amount of the dark drink before setting it down on the coffee table and standing decisively. Ignoring the younger wizard’s continued rocking and panicked chanting, he seized him by the arm, undeterred when the youth weakly tried to pull away from him, and hauled him to his feet, dragging him down the hall toward a large, open room at the back of his house. All it contained at the moment was a closed and locked free-standing cabinet.
Gritting his teeth, the Potions master swung his captive around in front of him, closing the room’s door and locking it with a wave of his hand and a burst of wandless magic. This was not the way he had wanted to begin things with the potential sub. This was not how he had wanted to introduce the other man to this lifestyle. He had hoped to begin with something more pleasurable.
“Mr. Potter,” he tried again, having to use all his strength simply to hold onto the younger man. A bony elbow rammed into his ribs and he grunted. It happened twice more before he’d had enough and maneuvered them both around until the younger man faced the wall, pushing him up against it and twisting one arm up behind his back, using his weight to keep him there. The wizard’s free arm scrabbled at the wood paneling. “Mr. Potter, listen to me. If you do not cease this foolishness, I will be forced to punish you. Believe me when I say it is not going to be pleasant.” He doubted the young man could even hear him the way he was sobbing and mumbling to himself, but he had said Potter could come to him when he needed to be hurt, and he’d be damned if he didn’t help him now. That in mind, he leaned harder against the struggling soon-to-be sub, drew his hand back, and struck with all the strength he possessed throughout the corded muscles in his arm, shoulder, and back.
Harry froze, shocked into sudden stillness by the loud smacking sound of Snape’s palm hitting his ass and the abrupt stinging pain that accompanied it. He floundered, forgetting how to breathe for a long moment as the pain and his position—almost crushed against the wall—sank in. The second loud smack caused him to gasp and suck air in harshly through his open mouth, followed shortly by an embarrassing whimper.   The third made him cry out—partly in pain, partly in pleasure. The pain was good. It grounded him. He stopped fighting the hand that held him pinned. The fourth blow had him squirming, his pants tented around what was clearly an erection.
“Calmed down now, Mr. Potter?” Severus inquired.
Breathing heavily, the younger wizard nodded jerkily. He hoped the Potions master wouldn’t release him yet. It sounded like he might, but he hoped not. The position was uncomfortable, smashed up against the wall as he was, but the weight of the other man against his twisted arm and back felt nice. Secure. Comforting. Controlling. It calmed him considerably.
He jerked against the hold when he felt that unforgiving hand crack against his right butt cheek where ass met thigh. The strength of the blow hadn’t changed, but he felt it more acutely than he had when the spanking had been only on his ass cheeks. There must be more nerves there, he reflected, going up on his toes when Snape’s hand came down again on the other side. His eyes stung and watered and he blinked furiously to keep the tears back.
Noticing the struggle, Severus paused to run his hand soothingly over the back of the younger man’s tense neck, massaging absently. “Cry, Mr. Potter,” he ordered softly. “You will feel better if you let yourself cry.”
Biting his lip stubbornly, Harry shook his head back and forth, angry with himself for showing such a weakness. He knew better.
Snorting, Severus removed his hand from the young man’s neck and smacked it down hard against his ass once more. “You will cry for me, Mr. Potter. To cry is to be human. It is an essential function, one that must be indulged when the situation calls for it. Now, cry!”
“No!” Harry responded stubbornly, clenching his fists into tight balls as that hand came down again, this time on the back of his thigh. It hurt even more than the previous area and made his skin prickle and burn unpleasantly. Snape’s palm collided again in the same area, just a little lower, and he shrieked, moving from one foot to the other to try to relieve some of the burn. “Shit!” he cursed, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face slightly into the cool wood paneling of the wall. “Oh … shit … that hurts. Hurts …”
“Tell me why you are being punished, Mr. Potter,” Severus commanded.
Panting, leaning his forehead against the wall, gasping in air, Harry opened his eyes again, gradually slowing his breathing. “I … I don’t know … what you’re talking about.”
“Do not play the ignorant fool with me, Mr. Potter. You knew what it meant when you sought me out. You knew what it meant when you decided to come here in such a state.”
“Maybe … I just came to talk to you.”
Severus lifted a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “At three o’clock in the morning? In that case, I believe an owl would have sufficed.” He drew his hand back again, felt the body under him tense, and brought it down, but softly. The former Gryffindor groaned. Severus smirked, sensing the younger man’s frustration at the softness of the touch. “No, Mr. Potter, I do not believe you came here to talk. Why are you being punished?”
“H-Hell if I know.”
“Let me enlighten you then.” Seizing hold of the young man’s other wrist, Severus pulled both of his hands up above his head, making him stand on tiptoe. He was rather pleased to note that he was still of a rather petite and slim build, one easily towered over and controlled. It made holding him up against the wall on his toes much easier than if he had grown even a few inches taller and developed slightly more muscle. “Stay,” he growled. He let go, but quickly seized the younger wizard’s wrists again when he started to move them back down. “Do what I tell you, Mr. Potter.” He squeezed hard, feeling the bones grind against each other, knowing and reveling in the knowledge that his grip would leave bruises.
A gratifying whimper slipped from those beautiful, kissable lips—mostly from pain, but also from pleasure if those lust blown pupils were anything to go by. With a wave of his hand, the other man’s wrists were held immobile, arms and shoulders taut with the strain of maintaining the uncomfortable position.
“I am punishing you, Mr. Potter, because you fought against me,” Severus explained calmly, returning to their original topic. “I am punishing you for the bruises on my ribs that were made by your elbows when you fought. I do not take kindly to being attacked by someone I am trying to help. I am punishing you because you spoke to me with blatant disrespect, likely knowing I am not the type of Dom to allow such behavior. And I am punishing you because you feel the need to be hurt, because that is what you have asked of me by coming here.” The Potions master stopped and cocked his head a little to the side until Harry looked him in the eyes, a visible shudder running through the younger man. “Have I forgotten anything?” He leaned close, eyes sliding half closed as he observed Harry’s reaction to his proximity—the way he licked his lips, the way his cheeks reddened slightly, the way his eyes widened marginally in anticipation. “Ah, yes …” he murmured huskily, “and you have yet to cry for me. Until you do so, the punishment will not stop.”
“I’m not going to cry,” Harry grunted.
Severus’ lips twitched upward. “We’ll see.” He drew his arm back again, ignoring the slight sting in his palm, and quickly lost himself in the rhythm and pattern of punishing the writhing submissive.
It had been a while since he’d had anyone to practice this particular skill on, and he found he liked being able to reacquaint himself with the feelings of power, control, and sadistic pleasure it gave him. Blow after blow rained down on the younger man’s butt cheeks, thigh, crack, and every area in between. Denial wasn’t uncommon, but Severus was not one of those Doms who would tolerate or ignore a submissive accusing him of doing something they didn’t want or need when the sub had so clearly been asking for it.
He was starting to work up a sweat and yet, so far, Harry had not allowed a single tear to fall. For someone so young, he had phenomenal control—or rather, the phenomenal and often destructive ability to suppress the need to cry. But, considering the youth’s upbringing, it wasn’t surprising. Severus, too, had learned not to cry when he was beaten and humiliated by his muggle father. Crying, begging, showing any sort of weakness only ever encouraged him to keep going. He had learned if he hid his hurt, the bastard would lose interest in him sooner. He and Harry really were very similar.
Pausing, breathing deeply to center himself, Severus took a small step back. The muggle pants Harry wore made it impossible to view his handiwork, but he could still see it was causing the young man considerable discomfort as he shifted from foot to foot, eyes closed and brows furrowed. It was time to employ different tactics—psychological tactics, to be exact. He knew enough of Harry Potter from his trips into the young wizard’s jumbled mind and memories to know what buttons to push to force him into a breakdown. After that, he would focus on helping him cope and heal.
Once his breathing was better under control, he stepped close to the magically bound man again and slid one hand lightly down his spine, enjoying the shivers the action caused as he placed his mouth near the other man’s ear and whispered, “Your parents’ death was your fault.”
Harry twisted in surprise at the accusation, a breathless “no” on his lips.
“Cedric Diggory’s death was your fault,” Severus continued cruelly.
“No! No, it wasn’t,” the former Gryffindor refuted, his eyes pleading for understanding. “It w-wasn’t … wasn’t my fault! Wormtail—”
“Sirius Black’s death was your fault.”
“No!”
“Albus Dumbledore’s death was your fault. Remus and Nymphadora Lupin’s deaths were your fault,” the Potions master continued coldly, black eyes narrowed as he watched the potential sub’s reaction to his words. “Colin Creevey, Fred Weasley, all of their deaths were your fault, were they not, Mr. Potter?”
And finally, finally, a single tear slid down Harry’s pale cheek. “It … wasn’t … my fault,” he gasped. “It wasn’t!”
“Ginevra Weasley?” Severus inquired, hating himself for bringing her into play, but knowing it was necessary.
At that, Harry choked out a breathless sob. “My fault …” he cried, face crumpling in pain and despair, tears sliding unhindered down his cheeks. “Damn it,” he whispered brokenly. “I know I’m a target … I should never have gotten close. They were after me! Why did it have to be her?! Why her?! She had … she just started seeing Dean again. He would’ve made her happy, happier than I could ever hope to make her. She was … she was going to have a family. A baby.”
Severus’ eyebrows rose. He hadn’t been aware of that. With a small hand gesture, the magic binding Harry’s wrists released him and he slid to his knees, his forehead against the wall, shoulders shaking.
“It was too early to tell whether it was a boy or a girl, and now they’re gone. It’s not right. I should’ve done more … should’ve walked her home … made sure she was all right. Then they would have gotten me instead. They would have left her alone!”
Carefully, Severus sank down into a crouch and placed his hand on the young man’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You do not know that.”
“I do!” Harry snarled, glowering back at the Potions master, green eyes flashing so brightly they mimicked the bright green of the killing curse.
“No, Mr. Potter, you do not,” Severus firmly refuted, unfazed by his anger. “You cannot know what would have happened, just as you did not know what would happen to Miss Weasley when she left your house. No more than you could have known how many people would die at the Battle of Hogwarts. No more than you could have known of my oath to the Headmaster to end his life that night on the astronomy tower. No more than you could have known the vision you had your fifth year was implanted by the Dark Lord. No more than you could have known the Triwizard cup was a portkey and Diggory would be killed by Pettigrew that night in the graveyard. No more than you could have known or prevented your parents from sacrificing themselves to save what was most precious to them. In hindsight, there are always choices we wish we could make differently, paths we might have taken had we known the outcome beforehand, but that is not how life works, Mr. Potter. We do not know. Death is a part of life. Without death, there cannot be life, just as without life there cannot be death. This is something you must accept. Yes, they died. Yes, there were choices you could have made that might have prevented it. However, there were forces at play that you could not control. Your feelings of guilt are understandable, but misguided nonetheless. You are not at fault. You must get that into your head if you are ever to move past this.”
“But—”
“No buts, Mr. Potter. It is not healthy to blame such things on yourself. Your parents’ death was the fault of a series of events that led to Voldemort choosing to kill them. Voldemort chose to order Pettigrew to kill Cedric Diggory and Pettigrew chose to follow that order. Your godfather’s death may have been preventable, but answer me this: Did you or did you not feel it necessary to go to the Department of Mysteries to save him?”
“I—” For the first time, Harry hesitated, wondering if what his former professor was telling him might be right. He had felt it necessary. Ever since he was little, he had had to take care of himself. The Dursleys refused to take responsibility for him. Every single adult he had gone to about their treatment of him either ignored it or flat out told him he was lying. Not one of them offered to help. Adults, he had learned early on, could not be relied upon. He had only himself. So, when he had had that vision from Voldemort, he had taken it as real and had gone to rescue him. Maybe … maybe it really wasn’t his fault. Maybe Snape was right.
Lower lip trembling as tears continued to leak down his cheeks, for once he shut his mouth and just listened.
Seeing that he was finally listening to him seriously, Severus continued, “The Headmaster had neglected to tell you the dangers of your connection with Voldemort and had been all but avoiding you since the school year started. You felt alone. You felt angry and frustrated. And, from what I have seen of your childhood, you felt as if you were the only one who could do something. Because the adults around you refused to listen, you had to act. Isn’t that right, Mr. Potter?”
Slowly nodding, Harry licked his lips, leaning back into the hand on his shoulder as it moved to rub his back in gentle up and down motions. “And … And the others?”
“Dumbledore chose to die in a way that would further our plans and secure my position as a spy. This you know. His death was inevitable. The curses surrounding the horcrux were already killing him. He would not have lasted more than a few months beyond that night on the astronomy tower. As for those who died in the Battle of Hogwarts, they chose to fight that battle in order to protect those they held dear. They knew what they were doing when they made the choice. They knew their lives were at risk. We all knew.”
“But … But Ginny … she was … she wasn’t—”
“She was not unaware of the danger, Mr. Potter, as much as you might like to believe she was. You are famous throughout the entire wizarding world. It is inevitable that there would be those who would desire your death for what you have done. She knew that. She knew she would become a target. Did she know she was a target that night? Probably not. Could you have prevented her death? Perhaps, though it is unlikely. She was a pawn, a tool to find you, and that is all. Had you walked her home and they came upon both of you, it is likely they would have seen her as nothing more than a hindrance and would have gotten rid of her anyway. It would have been swifter and less painful, but she would have died all the same. It was her choice to be with you, Mr. Potter.”
For the first time in years, the tight knot of guilt in his chest loosened slightly. It wasn’t gone, but it was considerably less noticeable, less painful, less heavy.
“Feel better?” Severus inquired, knowing the answer even before he asked when he felt the tension leave that slim back.
“Yes. Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I assume this … episode has to do with your visit with Minerva?”
“S-She … well, they, I suppose. They think it was … a band of Death Eaters who went into hiding after Voldemort’s fall that … that murdered her. They want me to … to help hunt them down a-and … put them in Az-Azkaban, b-because I k—defeated … Voldemort.”
“And you do not wish to,” Severus finished for him, understanding.
“No!” Harry protested. “No, I mean … yes? I don’t really know. I just … I don’t want—” He growled, frustrated by his inability to say what he meant. “I’m tired. I never wanted to be an auror, or a hit wizard, or a hero, or anything else they want me to be. I never wanted any of that. I-I don’t really have the stomach to … to hurt people … or kill them … or anything like that. I’ve been ‘Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, hero of the wizarding world’ so long, I don’t know how to be just Harry anymore. I don’t even know if I know who ‘just Harry’ is, if I ever knew at all.”
“Then, perhaps, it is time you found out. Tell me what you want, Mr. Potter.”
“What I want?”
“What do you want right now, Mr. Potter?”
“I … I want to be punished … sir.”
“In that, I am more than willing to oblige you,” Severus responded quietly, his voice little more than a low hum. “But first, there are some questions I need answered.”
“Sir?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Stand up, Mr. Potter, but remain facing the wall.”
Harry shuddered, both fearful and thrilled that this was actually happening as he braced his hands against the wall and levered himself to his feet. He did want this, but he was still nervous now that he had voiced it, now that he had all but given Snape permission to hurt him.
“Keep your legs together and clasp your hands over your head.” With a sadistic smirk for the young man’s compliance, Severus drew his wand, pointed, and hissed, “Incarcerous.”
Thick ropes wrapped around the younger wizard’s wrists, pulling his arms tight above his head until he could barely touch the ground with his toes. He grunted in pain, the muscles in his arms and shoulders aching with the strain of having them stretched taut above him. Nevertheless, he reveled in the feeling and the knowledge that he was no longer the one in control, even though it made him slightly uneasy. He didn’t have to be strong. He didn’t have to know what to do, or even do anything except obey. He didn’t have to be a hero. In this moment, he was just Harry. Not the Chosen One. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Just Harry.
Once again, Severus pointed his wand, this time at Harry’s back—particularly his shirt—and cast a second spell. “Diffindo.”
Harry gasped in shock when his shirt was ripped from his upper body. His breathing sped up, as did his heart rate when he felt the Potions master’s dark eyes on his bare back—appraising him. Goose bumps pebbled his flesh. Heat stirred in his groin.
“Accio glasses,” the older wizard drawled, catching the young man’s spectacles when they shot over to him. He folded them and tucked them into an inner pocket. “I’ll keep these safe for you.”
Trembling in anticipation for what was to come, the raven-haired youth nodded.
“Do you have a safe word, Mr. Potter?”
“Safe word?”
“Of course not,” Severus murmured to himself, and then addressed Harry again. “You are going to need one. This is a punishment, nothing more. I am not aiming to torture you, but because I do not yet know your boundaries I may unintentionally cause you more pain than you can handle. A safe word, Mr. Potter, is a word that will stop everything, no matter the circumstances. It is not to be used lightly, but neither should you hesitate to use it if you feel it necessary. If you feel it necessary, for whatever reason, you are to use it. Is that understood?”
“Y-Yes sir, I understand.”
“Pick a safe word, Mr. Potter.”
“Like what?”
“Anything you can remember. A favorite food. A book you read often. A movie you enjoy. A favorite phrase or quote, though it must be short, mind you. Whatever might stick in that empty head of yours when under duress.” The young wizard’s front teeth worried his lower lip. A nasty habit. That would have to be corrected. After a moment’s thought, he revised that. If Potter wanted an actual relationship, then that habit would bear correcting. When no answer was made, Severus snapped out impatiently, “What model is your broom?”
“A-A firebolt, sir,” Harry replied in a near whimper. That tone. That voice. The unspoken command to answer. It was like being struck by a whip. Whatever doubts, whatever fears he might have had before were no longer. He was right to come to Snape. Only Snape could give him what he wanted, what he needed. He straightened his spine.
“That is your safe word. Firebolt. Remember it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And another thing.”
“Sir?”
“When you seek me out to be punished you will address me as ‘Master.’ Understood?”
“Yes, si—Master. I understand.”
“Now, before we begin I must know, Mr. Potter, are you only asking me to hurt you, or are you asking to be my sub?”
At this, Harry looked over his shoulder again, eyes darting up to Severus’ face before he looked away uncomfortably. “I … don’t know yet, Master.”
“Perhaps it would be easier to answer if I phrase the question differently,” Severus mused, knowing this was new for the younger man and was probably a little overwhelming for him. “Are you comfortable enough to try a little exploration into the more sexual aspects of a D/s relationship? Or would you rather wait?”
“Oh … er … I-I guess it would be f-fine to—”
Sensing the hesitation, Severus interrupted before the other wizard could give his consent out of misplaced obligation. “Mr. Potter, remember that this is about what you want. If you wish to continue this relationship beyond periodic punishments, only then will we discuss what I want from you. All right?”
“O-Okay. Th-Thank you, sir. I mean, Master! Master. Thank you, Master. Then … erm … I don’t think I want to get into that just … just yet. I just want to be punished.”
“Very well. Now, Mr. Potter, I assume you brought your wand?”
“Yes, s—um … Master, I did. It’s in my back pocket.”
“Do you trust me?” What a silly question if the other wizard immediately told him where to find his wand. Even so, he had to ask, just to be certain.
Harry’s response was immediate and firm, “With my life.”
“Good. I am going to use your wand in our time together. When you come that is the first rule, to discard your wand or hand it to me, understood?”
“Y-Yes, Master, I under—” He swallowed nervously. It was harder than he thought, giving his wand into the hands of someone else. It made him feel vulnerable and helpless. But, he supposed that was the point of requiring he give over his wand in the first place, to make him feel that way. And, if he was being totally honest with himself, he really liked that feeling of having someone else be in control. “I understand.”
Given permission, Severus fished the other wizard’s wand out of his pants pocket, stowing his own wand away under his robes. “The second rule you will need to remember is what I told you before, that you will not hurt yourself. You have given me the right to punish and hurt you, and I will be the only one to do so. Should you feel the need to be hurt, you will immediately come to me. You will not take punishment into your own hands, and you will not seek punishment from anyone else.”
Harry nodded, but stopped when a strong hand clamped down on the back of his neck.
“Third rule,” Severus hissed, putting a little more pressure on the young man’s neck until he gasped and coughed. “Your answers to my questions will always be verbal unless I see fit to gag you.”
“Okay …” Harry gasped out, drawing a deep breath and continuing when Snape took his hand away. “I-I understand … Master.”
“Good.” With a cruel smile, Severus released him. “Now, answer me honestly. Have you explored what kind of pain you enjoy?”
“N-Not … exactly, Master. I think I … er, like being scratched s-since I kinda … accidentally cut myself with a piece of glass … o-once. I scratched myself with it afterward … just to make sure, but … yeah.”
“You also enjoyed the spanking, did you not?” Severus inquired with an amused glint to his dark eyes, though his face remained neutral.
Flushing darkly, Harry ducked his head down, his chin touching his chest in embarrassment. “Y-Yes … Yes, Master, I did.”
“Is there any particular pain you dislike?”
Harry was relieved at the analytical reply, the Potions master’s face giving away nothing of what he really thought of Harry’s preferences. He didn’t know what he would have done if the man had laughed at him, or worse, looked disgusted. Logically, he knew his former Potions professor wouldn’t have that kind of reaction since he was a Dom that clearly enjoyed inflicting pain, but what one thought and what they felt were not always in harmony. “I … I don’t know … Master. B-Before realizing I was … I am a masochist … I hadn’t really thought about it much.”
Severus barely refrained from licking his lips. The young man had no idea how utterly enchanting it was for a sadist to hear such an admission from a masochist and potential sub. “It seems we will have to do a little exploring tonight, Mr. Potter.”
“Umm … c-could—I mean would it be … okay if you—H-Harry.”
Severus raised his eyebrow at the rather garbled request that he, surprisingly, understood. Using Harry’s wand, he non-verbally summoned a wooden paddle from its place in the locked cabinet, the lock springing open and doors swinging wide. The wand didn’t put up as much resistance as he thought it would, only forcing him to repeat the spell in his mind once more before bringing the paddle to his outstretched hand.
With a resounding crack that made his groin warm, he brought the heavy object down across Harry’s ass, making the wizard jump and cry out. “If you have a question to ask or a request to make, Mr. Potter, you will state it clearly,” here he brought the paddle down again a little harder, “and succinctly,” once more, even harder, “and, if at all possible, you will refrain from stuttering. And. Acting. Like. A. Complete. Idiot,” he finished in a growl, the paddle coming down again and again and again as he emphasized the last six words.
Harry squirmed and clutched at the ropes binding his wrists above his head, tears of pain and relief pouring unchecked down his cheeks. It hurt so bad, but it also felt good and left him feeling lighter, like a weight was being lifted from his shoulders with every harsh strike Snape delivered.
“Answer me, Mr. Potter,” the man demanded with another cruel strike of the paddle across his bruised backside.
“Y-Yes!” Harry gasped out between harsh panting breaths. “I … understand, Master!” He sighed, partially in disappointment, and partially in gratitude when the pain faded to an uncomfortable prickle and one of those large, strong hands massaged his abused ass almost tenderly.
“You had a request, Mr. Potter?”
“M-My name,” the younger wizard replied. “I want you to call me by my first name. Please, Master?”
“Hmm … I’ll consider it.” Severus then discarded the paddle in favor of a whip. It was a simple thing of braided leather, the end divided into several long, flat leather tails. It was the mildest of his preferred whips. Slowly he dragged the new toy across Harry’s back, watching as the young man shivered in response to the foreign sensation. “Now, Mr. Potter, would you kindly explain why you feel the need to be punished? After all, it would be rather pointless if I were to punish you for nothing, wouldn’t it? Did you do something wrong?”
“I … I don’t think so …” He grunted as the whip came down across his shoulders. It wasn’t enough to hurt, not yet, but he had no doubt that it soon would be. “I didn’t do anything wrong … that I know of, Master.”
Severus smirked and absently stretched the whip out between his hands, snapping it taut. Harry learned quickly, that was good. “Let me rephrase. We will first address your guilt issues. What do you feel most guilty about?”
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, his expression soon turning uncertain and more than a little confused. “H-Honestly, I’m not exactly … sure, Master. I feel guilty about a lot of things.”
“Then perhaps it would be easier to start at the beginning?” Severus suggested, more than willing to wait for the answer. He was a very patient man and Harry wasn’t going anywhere.
“Master … you can’t just … hurt me for the sake of … hurting me …?” Harry inquired, watching Snape’s face as best he could over his shoulder to gauge his reaction. There was no anger, but another emotion, just as intense, yet not as readily identifiable lingered near the surface of those dark, soul-searching eyes. “I … want to be hurt by you, Master,” he confided quietly, uncertainly. “Isn’t that … enough?”
“No, Mr. Potter, simply the desire to be hurt is not enough.” He ran his fingers through the other wizard’s unruly hair in a soothing gesture as his head bowed in disappointment. “Not yet. Not until the trust between us is much stronger. I understand you do not wish to face the guilt you have come here to relieve, but until you do the pleasure you have in the pain I give you will always be overshadowed by guilt. You want the pain I can give you to take away that guilt, but I tell you now, it will not do that. Not on its own, at any rate. The only way you are going to be rid of your guilt is by realizing where that guilt is stemming from, accepting punishment for it, and then letting it go. I am willing to repeat this process as often as you feel it necessary until you are ready to let your guilt go. Do you understand?”
“Yes … Yes, I do. Thank you, Master.”
Severus snorted. “You won’t be thanking me by the time I’m done here, Mr. Potter.”
Harry smiled a little, relaxing in his bonds. It wasn’t comfortable, not even close. However, despite the physical discomfort, he was content. “Please punish me, Master.”
Severus smirked and drew the whip back. “If you insist.”
Then the blows began to rain down in earnest, softly at first, but progressively becoming harder. The light sting turned sharper, raising welts all across his angry, red skin. Soon every stroke of the whip had him crying out in pain, his hands fisting around the ropes above his head.
“Tell me what you’re being punished for, Mr. Potter.”
There was that question again. Why was he being punished? What did he feel guilty about?
The whip came down as if in answer, slashing across his lower back where the pain seemed to be most intense. His dick throbbed in his pants, the stinging sensation of the whip only arousing him further. He cried out and pulled at the ropes binding his wrists, not to get away from the pain, but to push closer to it, to make it more intense. He wanted that pain. Wanted it so damn badly, it was almost a physical need.
Dear Merlin, he thought, eyes squeezing shut in shame, I’m such a freak!
“A freak, Mr. Potter?” Severus repeated, tilting his head inquisitively and coiling the whip up around his shoulder and elbow. That was certainly not something he was expecting to hear. Nevertheless, it fit from what he knew of the young man’s childhood.
Harry froze, unaware that he had spoken aloud. “I … I mean—”
Severus held up a forestalling hand. “No, Mr. Potter, do not try to cover it up. You said exactly what you meant. You view yourself as a freak because you enjoy pain, correct?”
Green eyes closing in mortification, the younger wizard nodded his head glumly. “Y-Yes, Master.”
“Additionally, you enjoy terms of control. Master. Sir. You enjoy being ordered to do something rather than being asked. You enjoy being dominated by someone bigger and stronger than yourself. That makes you a freak, correct?”
Harry frowned, sensing a trick question. “Um … yes?”
“Then answer me this, Mr. Potter. Am I a freak?”
“No!”
“Yet I enjoy inflicting pain. I enjoy asserting my dominance on another. How is that any different than when you enjoy having pain inflicted upon you or having someone controlling you?”
“W-Well … it’s just—I mean … isn’t it my fault that I like pain? There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” Suddenly, Harry felt a gentle hand on the back of his neck. The fingers tangled in his hair and gave a brief, sharp tug. He gasped at the sensation.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Harry, just as there is nothing wrong with me.”
Harry blinked. Professor Snape just called him by his first name, didn’t he? He called me Harry, he thought, more than a little disbelieving. But more than that, his name sounded good rolling off Snape’s tongue like that. The sound had been somewhere between a purr and a growl, a strangely pleasing, highly erotic sound that made Harry’s knees weak. Was punishment really the only reason he had sought out his old Potions professor?
He didn’t really know. What he did know, though, was that he loved hearing his name coming so naturally from Snape’s mouth, as if it belonged there and always had belonged there.
“You probably have the same misconceptions about masochists and sadists that most people do—most people being those who are not a part of the sadist and masochist world or who cannot accept that people who enjoy pain or inflicting pain even exist. Many people I’ve encountered who speak of sadists, speak of us as if we’re all murdering, psychopathic beasts with no self control and, while it is true there are quite a number of sadists out there like that, the majority of us learn to harness and control our desires. We that are willing to learn, limit those sadistic tendencies to certain specific activities in a controlled environment, most often in the bedroom. Masochists, in my opinion, are a little more complicated. There are those who can, with support, practice, and perhaps a bit of therapy, gain control of their masochistic tendencies. However, there are also those who cannot without the direct help or control of an experienced sadist or therapist that specializes in paraphilias. You, I suspect, are one of the latter.”
“But … I’ve never actually deliberately hurt myself except that one time … with the glass. I … I don’t …”
“Perhaps,” Severus allowed with a nod of agreement. “Tell me then, how did you manage to come to me looking half starved, your clothes and hair in a state of neglect, Mr. Potter? Is that not also a form of self-harm? From what I have observed, your masochistic side is attempting to give you an outlet for your guilt in such a way that you will not have to suffer—mentally and emotionally—more. When you scratched yourself with the piece of glass, how did you feel?”
Harry frowned at the unexpected question, but thought about it seriously for a few minutes before answering. “I felt … relieved … I liked the sting of the glass scratching me … and that … it scared me. It made me feel … dirty … like—”
“Like a freak?” Severus finished for him.
Harry hung his head miserably, giving a tiny nod.
“When I hurt you, how do you feel?”
“T-The same, but … somehow different, too. I don’t really know how to describe it.”
“When I touch you and hurt you, does it make you feel dirty?”
Harry thought that one over carefully. Did he feel dirty? No, he decided. It wasn’t from the man’s touch or the fact that he was hurting him that made him feel dirty. He wanted the man to hurt him. It was because he was enjoying it. He shouldn’t enjoy pain … right? That was wrong. Sick and wrong. It made no sense. “I don’t feel dirty … I feel more confused, actually.
“Do you feel scared?”
Quickly, Harry shook his head. “I’m not scared of you or of being hurt by you. Just … scared that I don’t feel … disgusted by it, by me.”
“Being a masochist is not something you should feel ashamed of, Mr. Potter. Most people, even the so-called normal people, have either masochistic or sadistic tendencies, though they may not be as pronounced as that of an actual masochist or sadist. You should not be ashamed of who and what you are. You are friends with Draco, correct?”
“Yes, Master?” Harry replied, his voice unintentionally going up in question.
“Draco, you realize, is a sadist. He is a Dom, just like me, and just like his father. Yet that doesn’t seem to bother you.”
Harry frowned. Snape was right. He had known of Draco’s preferences, both in gender as well as in kink, long before he’d discovered he was masochistic and it had never bothered him.
“Your friend, Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley, enjoys being in control,” Severus continued, content he was getting through as he saw the wheels turning behind the younger wizard’s lively green eyes. “That is characteristic of a Domme. Mr. Ronald Weasley has submissive characteristics and, some could argue, masochistic characteristics as well. You see, Mr. Potter, if you are a freak, then most everyone around you are freaks, too.”
Harry felt tears threatening to well in his eyes, and he quickly sniffed them back and averted his gaze from the smirking Dom.
“Now,” Severus continued, his smirk softening into something that, though not quite a smile, was still a more gentle expression than most had ever seen on the dour Potions professor, “are you willing to completely bare yourself to me, Mr. Potter?”
“You mean … get naked in front of you?” Harry asked nervously, heat rising into his face and simultaneously dropping into his groin.
Severus rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mr. Potter, get naked in front of me. Is that something you are willing to do, or would it make you too uncomfortable?”
“W-What are you going to be doing?”
Severus stepped up behind Harry and ran his fingers harshly across the welts left by the whip. The younger wizard hissed and pushed back into the touch, clearly enjoying the attention. He immediately removed his hands, earning himself a disappointed sound from the dark haired sub. “The sensation of a spanking given on bare skin is different to that of a spanking given over clothes. Though you enjoyed it with a barrier in the way, I wonder if you will enjoy it half so much without that barrier. Rest assured, I will not deny you arousal, but since you have specified that you do not wish to have any kind of sexual exploration take place tonight you will not be given release if you do become aroused by this punishment. So, Mr. Potter, what is your answer?”
“O-Okay.”
“Remember, should you need to you can use your safe word and I will stop.”
Reassured by that, Harry nodded. “I remember, Master.”
Smiling to himself, Severus discarded the whip and then stepped up behind the younger man. He placed his hands lightly on Harry’s hips, making soothing noises when he felt him tense. It was a huge temptation to simply draw those hips back into his pelvis, grind against him and show him how much he enjoyed punishing him. And, judging by the bulge in Harry’s pants, he would likely take pleasure in the attention. However, all he did was wrap his arms around the young man’s waist, long fingers deftly unbuttoning the muggle pants and then slowly pulling down the zipper, giving Harry a chance to put a stop to it if he felt he needed to. Then he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Harry’s jeans and jerked them down around his thighs. He drank in the sharp gasp of surprise and the attractive sight of skin-tight boxer briefs that outlined every delicious curve of the young man’s firm buttocks.
“Hmm … black, Mr. Potter?” Severus inquired, amusement clear in his voice. “I must admit I was expecting to see white.”
“I … uh … don’t really feel comfortable wearing white.”
“Is that so …?” Slipping two fingers under the waistband of the boxer briefs on either side of the young man’s hips, Severus drew them down to join his pants, which had dropped to pool around his knees. He hummed in appreciation at the expanse of exposed flesh, the curve of the younger wizard’s ass and the enticing crevice that extended down from his spine, separating his butt cheeks. Ignoring the urge to explore, Severus twitched his hand, summoning the paddle he had discarded. “Are you ready, Mr. Potter? I guarantee this is going to hurt.”
“I’m ready, Master.”
Rather than working up to full strength as he had with the whip, Severus drew his arm back and then swung down as hard as he could, the paddle connecting with a sharp crack!
“Fuck!” Harry shouted.
Smirking triumphantly, Severus repeated the blow, this time on the opposite cheek.
“Oh, fuck yes!”
“Feels good?” Severus inquired, pausing to admire the vivid red marks he had left on the young man’s rear.
Harry blushed as he realized just how loud his voice had been, just how wanton it had sounded. “Sorry …”
“Do not apologize. I find your reaction exceedingly attractive. Unfortunately, tonight is not about pleasure. I simply have yet to find what truly hurts.”
“Yes, Master.”
Repositioning the paddle slightly, Severus brought it down once more. Repeatedly, he slapped the paddle down against Harry’s exposed ass, shifting it to a slightly different angle or area after every couple spanks. The outside edges of his butt cheeks, right across the cleft of his ass, and the backs of his thighs seemed to garner the most response. Soon rather than moving toward Severus to experience more of the pleasurable pain, Harry was moving away. His shouts of appreciation and pleasure had turned into shrieks of pure pain.
Severus smiled cruelly as he brought the paddle down in one of those three areas, which had begun to turn a brilliant scarlet with the continued attention. “It would seem I’ve finally found it.”
“Ow! Fucking shit that hurts,” Harry hissed as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and began to slide down his cheeks.
Evidently, Severus noted with satisfaction, once the dam had been broken it was difficult to rebuild the wall that held the tears at bay. Harry’s lower body danced away from the more focused spankings, subconsciously trying to avoid anymore of those punishing blows from the wooden paddle.
“Use your safe word if you feel you can’t take anymore,” Severus warned, pausing to give himself and the younger wizard a short respite before starting into the real punishment.
Looking back over his shoulder at the dark haired Dom through blurry eyes, Harry gave a short, jerky nod. “Yes, Master.”
Focusing the paddle on those areas he knew hurt the most, Severus threw his entire being into the punishment. It wasn’t long before Harry was screaming with every strike. The backs of his thighs were bright red streaked through with purple and blue bruises, as was his ass around his sensitive crack, where ass met thigh, the edges of his ass near his hips, and nearly everywhere in-between. Severus had to hand it to the other wizard, he had a high tolerance for pain.
As the minutes ticked by and the younger man’s ass grew darker and darker, Severus wondered how long it would take before the wizard used his safe word. He had stopped screaming a while ago and now just hung limply, jerking every time Severus struck him.
Stopping to take a breather, he cast a quick, wandless and non-verbal tempus, eyes widening as he saw that it was nearly four-thirty in the morning. Estimating the time it took for them to talk things through, establish rules, and then find the exact area Severus could use to punish the other man, he had been engaged in the actual punishment for nearly forty-five minutes.
Taking in a deep breath to once again center himself and curb the unreasonable part of him that wanted to continue, Severus discarded the paddle next to the whip on the floor. He stepped up behind the limp young man, waving his hand once to dispel the magic holding Harry’s wrists above his head and caught him when he fell, shifting him around so he could carry him more easily. He took him to the sofa, debated for a moment, and then simply turned and sat with the green-eyed sub in his lap. Harry groaned when his bruised ass came in contact with Severus’ lap and the older wizard quickly, but gently turned him over onto his stomach.
“Nngh … Master …”
One corner of Severus’ mouth curled upward. “How are you feeling, Mr. Potter?”
Harry groaned again and opened his eyes, squinting up at the blurred figure behind him until Severus handed him back his glasses. He put them on, smiling a little when the older man came into focus. “Sore, but … better.”
“That’s good to hear. Can you tell me what you’ve learned?”
Blinking in confusion, Harry half sat up, but obediently relaxed back onto his stomach when Snape pressed his hand on top of his lower back. “Master?”
“What have you learned, Mr. Potter?”
“Erm …”
“Think back. What did you learn from this session?”
“That … I can’t blame myself for other people’s choices … or circumstances that are beyond my control … and shouldn’t … feel guilty for what occurs as a result.”
Rewarding the nervous young man with a squeeze to the back of his neck, Severus asked gently, “What else?”
“That it’s … okay that I want to be punished?”
“Is that an answer, or a question?” the older man inquired humorously.
“It’s okay that I want to be punished,” Harry repeated, this time with finality.
“Anything else?”
Harry smiled at the approving note to the Dom’s voice, something inside him warming at the thought of pleasing the man. “I’m not a freak.”
“No, you are not,” Severus murmured agreement to the statement. “You did very well, Harry. I’m proud of you.”
“Really?”
Severus almost didn’t hear the quiet question, but he saw the hopefulness in those soulful green eyes, as well as the insecurity. He combed his fingers soothingly through the long, unruly locks of the young man’s hair, probably enjoying the feel of it sliding between his fingers as much as Harry seemed to be enjoying his fingers on his scalp. “Yes, Harry. Really.”
In response to his answer, Harry’s face lit up with such unadulterated joy that Severus knew—he knew—he would never be able to let him go. He had loved him for so long, such a very long time. When the war had ended and he had returned home from the wizarding hospital to the news that Harry intended to marry Ginevra Weasley, even though he had expected such an outcome, he thought his heart would break. It was just like the night Lily, his Lily, had been murdered by the Dark Lord. He thought he had given up. He thought he had put the Potter boy behind him, buried his feelings for the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. And yet … when Harry showed up on his doorstep eleven years later, a man, but clearly suffering under the weight of his guilty conscience and the desires that had begun to manifest so strongly in him, he had begun to hope again without really being aware of it. Now that he had the object of his desire in his arms, he vowed to himself he would make the young man his own. Nothing and no one would take Harry from him a second time.
“Master?”
“Hm?”
“Can I … come again?”
“Haven’t I already answered that question? I do not like to repeat myself, Mr. Potter. I told you to come to me when you feel you need to be punished, did I not? I also told you that we will repeat the punishment process until you are able to let your guilt go. Does that sound like I am telling you to come again?”
Harry smiled shyly and ducked his head. “Yes, Master. Sorry.”
“And ‘thank you,’ correct?” Severus drawled, smirking.
Harry nodded. “Yes, Master.”
Nodding, Severus slapped the sub’s sore ass, earning himself a sharp hiss. “Good. You are welcome to stay and rest for a few hours, as I am sure you are quite drained. You may use the guest bedroom across the hall. When you are rested sufficiently you are to wake me before leaving, is that clear?”
“Yes, Master, I understand.”
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A/N: Whew *wipes forehead* Here's hoping this chapter is received well (: (: Even after rewriting it a few times, I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it, but oh well, it's there now. As always, please feed the author and leave a review.  They are extremely helpful in lifting my spirits and getting the writing part of my brain working like it should be. Thanks!!
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Punish Me