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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Hey ya'll, I'm back again!!!! Let me reassure you all, I am not abandoning this fic. My long absence was due to health issues as well as some severe depression, things that couldn't be avoided, so I will not be apologizing for the break I took since it was necessary.
Now, with that out of the way, here's the new chapter, but first, reviews!! (You simply have no idea how much those have helped me these past months, thanks so much!)
All right, just to clear things up. My story was not taken down, merely hidden because I accidentally exceeded their 600 word limit for author notes per chapter. I have set up a forum where I will be replying to reviews from now on. I will post the link once here, which is http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/47397-punish-me-review-replies/ and once at the end of the chapter. In future chapters, I will only post it at the end. Once again, thank you all so very much for the awesome reviews and all your support!!
Gosh, there were a lot of reviews! Thank you all so much for the reviews and continued support through my periods of silence, it helps so very much to lift my spirits (:
Warnings in no particular order: profanity (think that's probably a given by now), a bit of a violent tussle, a nasty pervert dude, a bit of grossness, death (though not of any main characters), an awesome dangerous Severus Snape, biting and some flirtatiousness ... yep, think that's it. Enjoy (; I apologize in advance for any mistakes or confusion (confusion comes along with depression), though I think I got most of it sorted out, if not, please let me know and I'll try to fix it. Thanks!
Chapter Seven
Harry still couldn’t believe how much better he felt after being punished by the Potions master. It had been a little over a day since he had left Snape’s house, and he still felt as high as a pixie on hydrogen. Nothing anyone did or said had had any effect on his good mood. He knew it wouldn’t last, knew his guilt would make itself known when the high wore off, but for now he was just enjoying life. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been able to just … live. There was always someone to fight, always something that had to be done, someone that needed saving, and if there weren’t any of those, there was always more guilt.
“Godfather!”
He stopped, turned in the direction the voice had come from, and smiled. “Teddy. How are you doing, kiddo?” The warm blue-eyed, purple-haired boy plowed into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs and throwing him slightly off balance. He stepped backward to regain his equilibrium, put his arms around his godson and spun him in a few happy circles, lifting him up off the ground with the momentum of the swing. Smiling broadly, he set the boy back on his feet, turning when he noticed Andromeda Tonks standing a few paces back. “Annie,” he greeted.
Smiling, she moving forward to give him a side on side hug. “Harry, it’s good to see you,” she murmured into his ear, knowing he disliked attracting attention. She looked him over from head to toe, a smile tugging at her lips and a gentle kind of gleam in her eyes when they returned to his face. “You’re looking good. Are you sleeping better?”
“Loads,” Harry answered with feeling, grinning again.
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you eating enough?”
“Yes, Annie, I am,” he replied, chuckling. “You’re almost as bad as Mrs. Weasley.”
Pressing her hand to her chest in mock indignation, she exclaimed theatrically, “Oh, surely not!” Then, becoming serious again, she patted his cheek affectionately. “I’m happy to hear that you’re doing better. Teddy and I were quite worried about you, you know, especially since he wasn’t able to see you for almost a month.”
Harry bit his lip, a small twinge of guilt running through him. “I’m sorry. Really, I didn’t mean for it to go on so long. I just … I didn’t want—” Grimacing, he raked his hand back through his hair nervously, finishing lamely. “Sorry.”
“It’s nothing to apologize for,” Andromeda assured him with a gentle, understanding expression. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. Now, if you’ll allow me to pick up the few items I came in for, we can go back to our house for dinner and catch up.”
Already under a Glamour built into the chain on his wrist which his friends—including Andromeda and Teddy—were keyed into, Harry nodded easily. “That’s fine with me. What are you getting?”
“A few last minute items we didn’t pick up yet for Teddy’s first year.”
“Oh?” He tilted his head down toward his godson, noting how the boy’s hair had changed to match his own raven colored, tussled, just-got-out-of-bed hair and his eyes had shifted to the kind of bright green Harry saw staring back at him from his bathroom mirror every morning. “Are you excited for your first day, Moonlet?”
Teddy grinned, head bobbing up and down enthusiastically. “Yeah!” Then he paused in the motion, his expression suddenly dimming with insecurity. “But … I’m kinda nervous, too. What if … What if no one likes me? I mean … Dad was a werewolf, what if …?”
Smiling gently, Harry reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Your dad was a wonderful man, Moonlet. He was kind and strong. He was the gentlest soul I knew. No matter who it was or what it might cost him, he always wanted to help. Did you know Remus was the one who taught me the Patronus in my third year of school? Werewolf or not, he was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I ever had. Don’t you let anyone tell you you’re not good enough or pure enough or human enough to attend Hogwarts. Remus Lupin was the most compassionate, the most human of us all. Keep your head high. You’re the son of a good man, a hero.”
Teddy bit his lip, still looking uncertain. “D-Do you think I’ll be sorted into Gryffindor? What if I’m not? What if I’m sorted into Slytherin?”
“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin house,” Harry said reproachfully. “Some of the bravest and most generous men I know were Slytherins in school. Of course, they’re also usually the haughtiest and brattiest out of the four houses, but they’re still good men. No one will think any less of you if you’re sorted into that house. Well, some might,” he amended, amused when his godson shot him a concerned look and finished gently, “but no one you know and love.”
“Really?” Teddy asked hopefully. “You don’t think … Dad would mind at all?”
“Kiddo,” Harry said seriously, “I know he wouldn’t.”
“All right,” Andromeda said, interrupting their conversation. “We need to get moving before the evening rush. I have a few items to pick up at Twilfitt and Tatting’s …”
Teddy groaned, dismayed. “Nanna, do we have to?”
“If you will be quiet, Teddy Lupin, I will finish,” Andromeda replied haughtily. “You and your godfather can drop by the apothecary, the cauldron shop, and—if you’re good—Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.”
Harry grinned when the boy jumped excitedly into the air, pumping his fist with a shouted, “Yes! You’re the best, Nanna!”
“I know, I know,” she laughed, returning the enthusiastic hug he gave her. “You have the money I gave you?” Teddy held up the small purse with a metallic jingle and she ruffled his hair. “Now remember, no wants until you’ve gotten the school supplies you need.” He nodded seriously. “All right then,” she urged, smiling, “off with you. I’ll see you both in a couple hours outside Flourish and Blotts.”
“Right! Thanks, Nanna,” Teddy said, standing up on his toes to give her a kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll see you later, Annie,” Harry said, also giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t have too much fun.”
“Oh, don’t worry, you can never have too much fun when clothes shopping.”
Waving her fingers daintily, she flounced away down the street. Harry shook his head, laughing softly as he took Teddy’s shoulder and steered him toward the cauldron shop, deciding to stop there first since it was closer than the apothecary.
Purchasing a cauldron for Teddy took less than fifteen minutes, and then they were on their way to the apothecary. Naturally, it made him think of Snape. The man was a Potions master, after all, plus he supplied finished potions to this particular apothecary, Wruelna’s Apothecary, the one that had taken the place of Slug and Jiggers, which had gone under after Voldemort’s second rise to power.
He stayed mostly in the background while the shop assistant helped Teddy find the items he was missing, looking around at all the different potions ingredients and then wandering over to a collection of stands with finished potions, reading the labels, wondering how many of them Snape had brewed. Well—and he laughed slightly—Snape definitely didn’t brew those, he thought with a grimace. Amortentia, the most powerful love potion. Next in line was the Anti-paralysis Potion … yeah, that was probably Snape. Antidote to Common Poisons, also Snape. Antidote to Veritaserum, unquestionably Snape. Babbling Beverage … certainly not. Baruffio’s Brain Elixir, again, not Snape. Beautification Potion, not Snape either. He would never brew something with such … frivolous intentions as beauty. Ice Potion … he knew that one. After the incident with the Sorceror’s stone, Hermione had listed each of the potions Snape had used in his task to get to the Mirror of Erised. The Ice Potion had allowed him through the black flames into the chamber where Quirrel and Voldemort were waiting. Blood-replenishing Potion—Snape. Cure for boils … might be Snape, too. But maybe not. He had learned that potion his first year at Hogwarts. He couldn’t see Snape brewing something so pathetically simple when there were other people, who weren’t masters, who could brew them just as well as he could. Burn-healing Paste, yeah, that one was probably Snape. His fingers drifted over to the C’s as he glanced up to make sure Teddy was still in sight. He was across the shop, viewing a slimy collection of flobberworms while the shop assistant spoke in an animated voice, completely ignoring the dark-robed man to his left. Seeing that he was fine, he returned to his perusal of the potions. Calming Draught, that was most certainly …
Suddenly going rigid, he turned around again. It wouldn’t have been unusual to see him in the apothecary, he supposed, but it would still be shocking given that he was just thinking about the man and wondering which potions were brewed by him. There! The dark-robed man … but, no … this man, while tall and slender, had dark brown hair, not black and a very noticeable tan. The man glanced over, dark blue eyes meeting his own for a brief moment.
Biting his bottom lip, he faced the collection of potions again, trying to deny the blush that crept up into his face. Seriously. What was he doing? He had seen Snape only two days ago. Why did he feel the need to see the man again so soon?
Ignoring the disappointment brewing inside, he began to read the labels of the different potions again. Confusing Concoction … could be Snape. Coughing potion—too simple. More likely it was made by someone else. Deflating Draught, Snape again. Developing Solution … possible, though not likely. Snape wouldn’t really care. Dizziness Draught, doubted it. Doxycide, probably Snape. Dragon Dung Fertilizer, highly unlikely. Draught of Living Death, definitely Snape. Draught of Peace …
“Hey, cutie, see anything you like?”
Frowning, Harry turned. It was the same man he had locked eyes with a moment ago. He smiled politely, though he hoped not enough to give the man the wrong idea. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“I’ll buy whatever you want,” the man offered, taking a step closer to which Harry responded by backing away.
“No, thank you. I’m here with my godson.”
“Oh? Which one’s he?”
Eyes narrowing coldly, Harry squared his shoulders and crossed his arms. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, sir.”
Blatantly not taking the hint, the man moved even closer, leaning his forearm above Harry’s head against the rack of potions, caging him in. “Tell you what, cutie, why don’t you call someone to come pick up your godson and you and me can get out of here. We’ll go wherever you want. I’ll even buy you dinner.”
“I would appreciate it if you’d just back off,” Harry hissed between gritted teeth, not wanting to make a scene. “I’m not interested.”
“Come on now, baby, there’s no need to play hard to get,” the man cooed as he brazenly reached out to cup Harry’s chin. “I saw the way you looked at me.”
“Whatever you saw, sir,” Harry responded with a sneer, batting the violating hand away from his face, “was not interest in any way, shape, or form. Now fuck off.” He went to move past the persistent man, but had his wrist grabbed and jerked back, pulling him off balance and causing him to fall against the bastard’s chest. Snarling, he reeled back, reaching for his wand with his other hand, but wasn’t fast enough. That hand was grabbed, too, and pinned against the potions’ rack. “Let go of me,” he demanded angrily, fists clenching.
“Mmm, feisty,” the bastard purred, laughing softly when Harry tried to pull away. “I like a little fight in my bitches.”
Eyes flashing dangerously, Harry jerked his knee up, connecting solidly with the man’s groin. One hand released him, but only long enough for the man to draw his arm back and slap him hard across one side of his face, snapping his head to the side. Again, Harry groped for his wand, but for a second time before he could reach it he felt the man’s hand around his wrist, fingers bruising his skin. An inconsiderate thigh forced its way between his legs and up into his crotch. The man laughed once more when Harry fought him. That laugh, he thought furiously, was really starting to get on his nerves. When the man leaned forward, foul breath hitting Harry full in the face, he snapped his teeth at him, almost catching the man’s nose between them. Growling, the bastard released his wrist, but again only long enough to punch him in the gut, doubling him over. He grunted in pain, too dizzy and disoriented by the pain to do anything when the man spun him around, forcing him against the rack and twisting his arm up behind him. He'd seriously allowed his reflexes and fighting skills dull that much?
“Godfather?” he heard Teddy call anxiously.
“Wait for me outside, Moonlet,” Harry replied, keeping his voice as calm as he could manage while he wrestled with the pervert at his back.
“Oooh,” the man said with a salacious grin as he caught sight of the eleven-year-old. “So that’s your godson. He’s about as pretty as you are.”
Harry jerked under his assailant’s weight, trying to throw him off. “Touch him and I swear I’ll rip your dick off and stuff it down your throat!”
“No need to be jealous, baby, you can have me first.”
“Godfather!” Teddy shouted, alarmed when the strange man lowered his head to Harry’s neck and bit down hard enough to draw blood. He took an uncertain step toward them, his new wand in hand, though he obviously had no clue what he was doing.
“Teddy, get outside!”
“But—”
“Now!”
“Go on, sweetheart,” Harry’s attacker advised in a falsely kind voice, pulling away from his bitten neck, licking his bloodstained lips. “It’s adult time now. You can have your turn when I’m finished with your slutty godfather.”
“Yes, let the adults play,” a new, darker and deeper voice said softly, the tone vastly different and a hundred times more sinister than that of the man nearly twisting Harry’s arm out of its socket. His assailant started in shock and then froze when he felt the hard wodden point of a wand press into his neck.
Harry gasped, eyes widening as he strained to see behind him, past the strangely silent and stockstill would-be rapist, to the Potions master who was the owner of that voice—sexy even while threatening someone, or perhaps especially while threatening someone. “M—Professor Snape,” he quickly corrected himself.
“Harry, are you all right?” Severus asked, keeping the tip of his wand pressed against the throat of the man who had dared assault the prospective sub he intended to soon have collared and in his possession.
“Yeah, I’m okay,” Harry responded automatically, and then winced, knowing the Dom was unlikely to take the white lie as an acceptable answer.
Rather than say anything about his response, though, Severus turned his attention to the boy watching the scene with wide, emerald-green eyes. This must be Harry’s godson, Lupin’s boy, Teddy. He had heard he was an Metamorphmagus like his mother, Nymphadora Tonks. “Mr. Lupin,” he said sternly, drawing the boy’s gaze to his. “Please wait outside while I deal with the situation.” He gestured to the shop assistant and owner. “Celeste, Tabitha, if you’d kindly wait outside as well. Keep an eye on Mr. Potter’s godson and call for the Aurors while you’re at it.”
“Of course, Severus,” the elderly apothecary owner answered, taking her assistant’s arm and pulling her toward the door, gesturing for Teddy to follow. “Come along, boy. There’s nothing more you can do here.”
Harry smiled reassuringly when his godson hesitated, clearly uncertain if the dour Potions professor was there to hinder or if he was there help. “Go on, Moonlet. He won’t hurt me.” Not unless I want him to, anyway, he amended silently, and then could have kicked himself for the thought. Now was not the time.
Nodding trustingly, clutching the ingredients he had purchased, Teddy shuffled out the door with the owner and assistant to wait.
“Now,” Severus said silkily, trailing his wand gently down the neck of the ass who had dared lay his hands on his Harry, across his chest, and further down until it touched the prominent bulge in the man’s robes, “kindly release my lover and step away. Try anything and I’ll make you wish you hadn't.”
Slowly, the man let go of Harry’s arm and shuffled backward, the Potions master mirroring his steps, keeping his wand trained on the perv’s crotch.
“Stop there,” he ordered. “Harry, move around behind me, please.”
Rubbing his abused wrists and forearm, Harry turned around and cocked his head uncomprehendingly, unused to being the one to need protection. “Sir?”
“Behind me,” the older wizard repeated severely. “Now.”
And with that tone, Harry didn’t need telling twice. Keeping one wary eye on the man who had assaulted him, he moved around behind the angry Dom, reaching out to tentatively grasp the sleeve of the arm opposite Snape’s wand arm and feeling more secure for it—not that he was afraid of the pervert, nor was he really afraid of Severus Snape, something inside him just felt better being that close to him.
“Good boy,” Severus murmured, too low for the man at wand-point to hear. Then, speaking to the assailant, “Get over there against the wall and face me. Don’t try anything. My aim isn’t bad enough that I’d miss at this distance.” When the man complied, he barked, “Look into my eyes. I will warn you now, I am a master Legilimens; if you lie, I will know and you will regret it.”
Swallowing hard, the man nodded.
“What is your name?”
“Abbas. Abbas Scott-Morris.”
“Did you know the man you were assaulting is one Harry James Potter?”
“N-No, I-I-I didn’t … sir.”
“Liar,” Severus hissed, eyes narrowing. “Praeuro verpa.”
Blue eyes nearly popping out of his sockets with pain, the man doubled over, clutching at his groin, his shrill scream filling the room as he fell to his knees, hunching over to try to shield himself from the Potions master’s wrath.
“Lie again,” Severus threatened calmly, so casually one would have thought he was merely commenting on the weather and Harry shivered at the heady sight of the dominating man, “and I’ll make sure you can never use it again. Let that be a warning; I do not make idle threats. Who do you work for? Who told you Harry Potter would be here today?”
Shaking and whimpering through clenched teeth, Abbas Scott-Morris shook his head frantically back and forth. “I didn’t know it was Harry Potter. I … didn’t know. I was sent … when they were able to track him to Diagon Alley, but I didn’t know he was Harry Potter. They couldn’t get a proper lock on him. The spell they used … only tells me his general vicinity.”
Severus’ eyes narrowed, measuring the other wizard’s sincerity. He delved shallowly into the depraved man’s mind, skimming his surface thoughts, just enough to verify that what he said was true. He was tracking Harry, but he really didn’t know the man he’d targeted and tried to violate was Harry Potter since the younger wizard was under a Glamour. “Very well,” he said at length, ending the spell on Abbas’ manhood with a flick of his wand. “Who do you work for? Who sent you?”
“I was sent b—” With a gurgle, his words were cut off, green-tinted foam bubbling out of his mouth. “B-b-gurrgh by th-the D—rrrrsssh-EGH!”
Severus cursed, striding over to the man and crouching by his side, wrenching one of his arms away from his bulging neck and ripping back the sleeve. He grimaced and hissed, “Death Eater,” tossing the appendage away from him with disgust, revealing to Harry the grey remains of the Dark Mark left on the man’s arm after Voldemort’s fall. The man began to convulse, flailing his arms and legs, making distinctly gross choking noises.
“What’s happening to him?” Harry wondered.
“Trigger spell,” Severus answered grimly, moving away from the dying man and back to Harry’s side. “The spell kills him if he tries to reveal something he’s not supposed to. It’s a safeguard to guarantee he won’t be able to reveal who employed him.”
“So … was he …?”
“Was he one of the men who were targeting you? Yes, I believe so. Abbas Scott-Morris. The name sounds familiar. If I’m not mistaken, he used to work as a mercenary for the Dark Lord. I had thought he was in Azkaban, though.”
“You mean … he escaped?”
Severus nodded. “Without the dementors guarding Azkaban, it’s not nearly so difficult to get out once in. I’ve heard the Aurors are erecting several new wards around the island itself to prevent such escapes, but there are always ways around such magic.”
“So … they are Death Eaters, then. Do you think … Do you think they’re trying to raise another … Dark Lord?”
“Perhaps,” Severus allowed, lifting a hand to cup the younger wizard’s chin and tilt his head up. “Now, answer me truthfully, Mr. Potter, are you all right?”
“Well … now I am,” he muttered, flushing a little at the intimate contact, completely forgetting the presence of the man who would have raped him had Snape not shown up and who was now dying a few feet away from them. “Th-Thanks for helping me, sir.”
Frowning, the Potions master touched the bruise on the younger man’s cheek. “He struck you?”
“Er … y-yeah, because I wasn’t cooperating with him.”
“Did he hit you anywhere else?”
“Um … my stomach. Punched me.”
“And this?” Severus demanded, dark eyes intense as he lightly touched the bleeding teeth marks on the young man’s neck.
Grimacing, Harry reached up and prodded at the wound, his fingers coming away red and sticky. “Ugh, yeah, the bastard bit me. Still hurts some. I guess it hasn’t stopped bleeding yet.”
“Hold still. I’ll heal it for you.” Gently Severus touched the edge of the injury with the tip of his wand and muttered, “Episkey.” The torn skin stitched back together, leaving behind no evidence that there had been anything there a moment before beyond the blood that still coated the younger man’s skin, which he cleaned away with a twist of his wand and a burst of magic. “Better?” he asked, fluttering his long fingers over the newly healed area.
Harry shuddered and blushed, glad for the thick robes that hid his arousal from sight. If it had been Snape who had bit him ….
Flushing even darker, he averted his eyes from the somehow knowing eyes of the Potions master. “Thank you, sir. Erm …” he glanced around the shop, quickly turning his eyes away from the corpse of Abbas Scott-Morris. “The Aurors should be here by now, shouldn’t they?”
“Mm, they may have been delayed,” Severus responded, stepping away from the other wizard to give him more room to breathe. He could see how uncomfortable Harry was, not just with the corpse, but with him, too. Had he scared him?
No, he decided when Harry moved closer to him again, smiling inwardly in approval of the action. No, that was arousal in those green eyes, not fear. He couldn’t imagine the man who had faced and defeated Voldemort at the age of seventeen being afraid of him. He might be nervous around him, but certainly not afraid. Perhaps he was just uncomfortable because he wasn’t used to the idea of desiring a man yet, desiring a man such as him, a Dom and a sadist. Not to mention they were in public. Concealing robes notwithstanding, it couldn’t be very comfortable having a hard-on with other people around.
Biting his bottom lip, Harry fidgeted awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot. He couldn’t help but remember that night when he had gone to the Dom for punishment. How it had felt, the feelings such domination and pain had provoked in him and the gentle and not-so-gentle caress of the hands that touched him. Bloody hell, this was awkward.
He was just contemplating asking if Snape wanted to join Teddy and the shop owner and assistant outside to wait for the Aurors to show up when he noticed an odd smell. Sniffing a little, he wondered where it was coming from. Had some of the potion bottles broken? But it didn’t smell like any potion he’d ever come across. Most potions had a bitter, almost acrid smell. This smell was … pleasant, soothing. Love potions had a pleasant smell. Maybe a love potion had broken. Or maybe one of the bottles of the Draught of Peace. That potion also had a pretty pleasant aroma. He smiled lazily, breathing in, filling his lungs.
Severus frowned, wondering where those damned Aurors could be. They should have been there by now. Something didn’t feel right. “Mr. Potter,” he said, half turning, “I think it might be best if we wait outside with your godson. Whatever is keeping the Aurors seems to be taking some time.” Seeing the vapid smile on the younger man’s face, the feeling of foreboding grew. Something was very wrong. “Mr. Potter?” he tried again, but still received no answer, not even acknowledgement that he was there and speaking to him. Trying to hold off his panic, not sure what, exactly, was wrong with the other wizard, he grabbed his shoulder and roughly shook him. “Harry.”
That was when he became aware of the smell. A sweet, toxic smell. His eyes widened with recognition. That was a poison! The air had been so clogged up with the smells of potions, he hadn’t noticed the smell of the poisonous Nightshade until it was almost too late. It may yet be too late if he didn’t act fast. Holding his breath, he flicked his wand through a series of practiced movements, first cleaning the air around him and Harry of the toxin and then creating a protective bubble. He didn’t have time to identify where the poison was coming from, though it was likely coming from the corpse of Abbas Scott-Morris using a time release spell to dispense the toxin into the air after the man’s death, probably in the hopes that they’d catch whoever had killed him unawares so he’d breathe it in and, with no knowledge that the poison was even there, he’d die soon after. It was a good plan. It was just too bad he was a master of Potions with hundreds upon hundreds of potions at his disposal, including many varying antidotes to all different kinds of poisons, most of which he had made himself.
He pulled Harry’s unresisting body closer to him, casting another spell at the door to keep the toxin locked in as well as keep other people out. It wouldn’t do to have another person fall under the poison’s sway after inoculating Harry and himself with the antidote. “All right, pet,” he whispered, keeping his voice soothing even though it didn’t appear as if the sub was distressed. “You probably can’t talk right now even if you wanted to, but that’s okay, I’ll do the talking. I’m going to find an antidote for you. You breathed in a highly poisonous gas made from the Nightshade plant. You might know it better as belladonna. Yes, it is deadly, but fortunately for you, I am a Potions master with a special mastery in poisons and antidotes. It’s just like you and your damned good luck to be poisoned in an apothecary of all places. If it were anywhere else I might not have had the ingredients or potions I need.”
As he spoke he searched through the shelves upon shelves of potions. Antidotes to Uncommon Poisons would negate most poisons, but not the Nightshade, though it might slow it down. With that in mind, he took the potion bottle, popped out the cork stoppering it and forced Harry’s mouth open, pouring it into him and then blocking up his mouth and nose, hoping to make him swallow. The young man spluttered and coughed against his hand as he gently rubbed his throat with his unoccupied hand, coaxing out the swallowing motion. Severus then lowered him to the floor, noting the way his pupils had dilated, the deep flush across his cheeks, the rapid heartbeat visible at the base of his neck. The vapid smile had disappeared, replaced by a frown and furrowed brows as he began tossing his head from side to side as if dreaming, though his eyes remained open. The poison was progressing—something was accelerating it if he was showing more symptoms already. If it reached his heart or brain he’d die within seconds.
“Come on, Harry,” Severus muttered as he searched along the shelves of alphabetical potions for the correct one. He knew it was here somewhere. Mouth Itching Antidote, no. Muffling Draught, not that one, either. Mrs. Scower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, Murtlap Essence, Noxious Potion. No, nope, and nope. Where was that damn potion? Oculus Potion. Pepper-up Potion …
There! Physostigmine Potion. Why they didn’t just call it Nightshade Antidote, he didn’t know. It’d been a long time since he’d made any of that kind of potion—not many were foolish enough to mess with the belladonna plant; from berry, to flower, to leaf, to stem, to root, the entire plant was poisonous—plus his mind was not functioning well, having the man he cared about on the brink of death. Normally he’d have no trouble remembering the name of the antidote to the belladonna plant.
“Harry,” he called urgently as the wizard began to convulse, eyes rolling back into his head. He knelt by his side, uncorked the potion, then used his wand to conjure a long needle and syringe. The poison was progressing too fast, he didn’t have time to waste giving it to him orally; it would have to be injected directly into his heart. “Don’t you die on me now, Harry,” he hissed through gritted teeth as he plunged the needle into the lilac colored liquid and pulled back the plunger. The convulsions were getting worse and so was his breathing, becoming shallow and labored. He flicked the air bubbles left in the syringe to the top and pushed them out, waiting until only liquid squirted from the tip before positioning the thick needle directly over the other man’s chest, feeling for the right spot before pushing it in—hard. Once it had penetrated fully, he slowly began to push the liquid into Harry’s body. Too fast and it could kill him. Too slow and the poison would. “Fight it, damn you. Fight it! Do you hear me? You will obey me, Harry James Potter. I did not wait all this time to have you, just for you to die.”
Removing the needle, he immediately healed the area with a wave of his wand, encasing them in a second bubble of heated air, rubbing his hands hard over Harry’s torso to increase circulation and pump the antidote through his system that much faster. His breathing was still much too labored, though the convulsions had started to recede. That could either mean the antidote was doing its work, or it could mean the poison had progressed to the stage where his organs were beginning to shut down. He hoped it was the former.
“You had better fight it, pet,” Severus growled, downing a swallow of the leftover potion to inoculate himself, promising darkly, “because if you don’t you’re going to be in for the punishment of your life. I’ll turn your backside black and blue; when I’m finished you won’t be able to sit for a month.”
Then Harry began to gasp, the sound wheezing in and out of him in an alarmingly harsh manner. Cursing, Severus took the other man’s head and pulled it into his lap, cradling it in one arm while he put the potion bottle to his lips and tipped the rest of the antidote down his throat. He coughed and spluttered, but finally swallowed it.
A few agonizing moments passed before tears leaked from his eyes, sliding slowly down his cheeks, and Severus smiled, relieved. The salty drops were a good sign. The antidote was taking effect.
“Harry?” he called gently. “Pet, can you hear me?”
Dark lashes fluttered as green eyes opened, staring up at him blearily. “M’ches’ ‘urts. You ma’ a’me, M-Masser?”
Severus smiled. The younger man had only been out for a couple minutes, but it had felt like an eternity, the worst couple minutes of his life. “Your chest hurts because you were poisoned and I had to administer the antidote directly to your heart. And no, I’m not mad at you.”
“You were … yelling … a’me. I coul’ ‘ear you, though I … coul’n ‘ear wha’ you were saying.” He frowned, his eyes rolling down, face scrunching in confusion. “Why … can’ I tal’ righ’?”
“The poison was made from the belladonna plant, also known as Nightshade. One of the first symptoms of Nightshade poisoning is slurred speech. It isn’t permanent, though. Now that you’ve had the antidote, you should be able to speak normally again in a few minutes.”
“Oh … o’ay,” Harry muttered, closing his eyes and laying back again, noticing with some amount of surprise that his head was being held in the Potions master’s lap. It felt good, though, and he sighed blissfully.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Mr. Potter,” Severus warned, eyes glittering with humor. “Unless, of course, you don’t mind rumors being started about an intimate relationship between you and I.”
Harry groaned and rolled over, out of the man’s arms, and pushed himself slowly up into a sitting position. They were suddenly back to “Mr. Potter.” What ever happened to “pet?” He liked that one much better. He worked his mouth and jaw and then, concentrating on making his mouth and tongue form the words he wanted, he called softly, “Sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Potter?”
“Er … why are you here?”
“Would you rather I not be here?”
Flushing, Harry quickly shook his head, eyes wide. “No! No, not at all, it’s jus' … I didn’t expec' t'run into you.”
“Mm,” Severus hummed, giving the younger man a thoughtful look. “It so happened that there were a few ingredients I was missing for a potion I am working on improving. Given the circumstances, I would say our meeting was quite fortunate.”
“Y-Yeah, you could say that,” Harry murmured, pronouncing each word carefully and precisely. He laughed softly, nervously. “But … erm … how did you know it was me? I’ve been under a Glamour all this time.”
“Do you recall the pendant I gave you?” Frowning, the green-eyed wizard nodded and Severus continued, “That pendant has a tracking charm on it. After all, I couldn’t risk it falling into the hands of someone with less … amiable intentions than yourself. Besides that, there are certain behaviors, speech patterns, and motions you make that are unique to you. It might fool those who do not know you well, but for those who are observant and close enough to notice those little nuances, discerning your identity through a Glamour is child’s play.”
“Oh …”
“Indeed.”
Having nothing more to say for the moment, Harry fiddled with his thumbs in his lap, scratched his neck, rubbed at his arms, fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, glanced at Snape, scratched his neck again, looked around the silent shop, started scratching …
“Mr. Potter.”
Blinking, Harry lowered his hand and looked over at the Potions master quizzically. “Yes, sir?”
“Is your neck bothering you?”
“Hm?”
“You’re scratching.”
Frowning, Harry rubbed at the spot he’d been worrying at. “Ngh … I guess. It just feels a little … gross still. That guy bit me and, well ….” With a shrug, he lowered his hand again, determined to leave it be.
“Come here, Mr. Potter,” Severus beckoned, eyes dark with some unnamable emotion.
Curious, Harry shifted forward, but before he could move more than a few inches, the door to the shop burst open in a shower of wood and magic. “Harry! Harry, ya here mate?!”
“Ron,” Harry said, relieved to see his red-headed best friend.
“About time,” Severus muttered, flicking his wand to clear the fumes and erect a bubble-head charm around the Auror’s head and fixing the barrier the redheaded imbecile had ripped through. “I would suggest entering with a little more caution next time, Mr. Weasley, and less brainless brute force. If I was not here, you would now have the belladonna poison in your system and would be quite useless to us.” He gestured toward the open doorway. “No one else comes in. If they do, I can’t guarantee they’ll survive. It’s taking too much energy to maintain the barriers around Mr. Potter and I, as well as that charm around your thoughtless neck as it is.”
“You okay, Harry?” Ron asked, ignoring the snarky Potions master and glancing around the room to assess it for possible dangers. Spotting the corpse on the floor, still leaking white colored foam from his mouth, his eyes widened as he pointed an alarmed finger at the ex-Death Eater. “Who the bloody hell is that?!”
“Abbas Scott-Morris,” Severus answered the redhead. “An escapee from Azkaban hired to keep track of your friend, Mr. Potter.”
“Hired? Hired by who?”
“Whom, Mr. Weasley. Hired by whom,” Severus drawled, enjoying watching his former student’s face turn red as he battled his considerable temper. “Unfortunately, whomever hired him also put a trigger spell on him. The spell activated as soon as he attempted to divulge his employer’s name—using poisonous gas, of course.”
“Bloody fucking hell!” Ron exclaimed and then narrowed his eyes at Harry. “Are you sure you’re all right, mate? You didn’t breathe any of that stuff in, didja?”
“I’m okay, Ron. I did breathe some in, but Snape was able to find the antidote.”
“Mr. Weasley,” the Potions master interjected impatiently, “I would suggest assembling a toxic material clean-up crew to set up a barrier around the shop to contain the poison until they can get it diluted and nullified. I cannot contain it indefinitely and it will not be pretty if the belladonna poison spreads to the street.”
“Oh … er … right. I’ll do that, Profe—Mr. Snape.”
Internally rolling his eyes, Severus nodded. “See that you do. The response time has become considerably longer since the last time I was able to observe the Auror Division in action. You might speak to your boss about it. If Mr. Potter was not with me and in an apothecary with an antidote readily available, the wizarding world’s Golden Boy would now be on his way to the morgue.”
“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that, mate,” Ron apologized sheepishly. “There was another call a little before yours came in and … well, I think they underestimated your penchant for getting into trouble. I tried to hurry them along, really I did, but …” he shrugged, “you know how they are. They think you can handle anything.”
Resignedly, Harry gestured the apology aside. He did know how they were, how they saw him. He defeated Voldemort, after all. A single Death Eater should be no problem.
“That, Mr. Weasley, is unacceptable,” Severus barked, incensed that Harry would take an excuse like that so easily.
Surprising the Potions master, Ron nodded. “I agree, but there’s really nothing I can do about it.”
Severus inclined his head, acknowledging that. Ronald Weasley was still only a mid-level Auror. Not a rookie, but not experienced enough to be considered a senior Auror yet. “There may be nothing you can do, Mr. Weasley, but there are certainly steps I can take to ensure this issue is resolved.”
“No offense, sir,” Ron responded hesitantly, “but I don’t think using potions to influence the Head of the Auror Department would go over very well.”
“That is not what I was referring to, Mr. Weasley. As much faith as you seem to have in my abilities to infiltrate the Auror Department and slip a potion in the Head Auror’s food or drink, I had rather thought to contact an associate of mine with powerful connections inside the Ministry.”
“Oh … well, so long as it works, I won’t stop ya.”
Severus snorted, “As if you could, Mr. Weasley. It never fails to amaze me, the arrogance you Gryffindors constantly put on display.”
Scowling, the redhead turned back toward the open doorway shielded by the Potions master’s spell. “I’ll go get a team together to take care of cordoning off the area to keep the poison from spreading as well as diluting and nullifying it. Can you two make it out or do I need to have someone specialized in airborne poisons come and help?”
“I can get us out, Mr. Weasley, but only after the barrier has been set up around the building so none of the poison escapes. The wizards in the clean-up crew will make certain it doesn’t get out when we breach the barrier.”
“All right. I’ll meet you outside then, Harry,” Ron said to his best mate, receiving a grateful smile and a small wave in return.
“Mr. Potter,” Severus called when the redhead had left through the small hole he created and joined the Aurors he could see milling around outside.
“Yeah?”
“Is your neck still bothering you?”
“Mm … a little,” Harry replied softly, reaching up to touch the spot with a grimace of distaste.
Darkening the barrier around them with a flick of his wand, Severus beckoned the younger man over to him. When Harry crouched in front of him, he cupped that tanned cheek, ignoring the Glamour that made him look a few years younger than he actually was with red tinted brown hair and hazel eyes, imagining instead the fey-like creature the other man actually was—messy black hair, emerald green eyes, smooth tan skin, pretty pink lips which were slightly ragged from being chewed, and that strong, but still boyish face that was always clean-shaven. Pushing gently, he tilted Harry’s head to the side, gazing into wide eyes for a moment to give the other man a chance to stop him. When no resistance came, he lowered his mouth, caressing that warm skin softly to a whisper of a moan. Encouraged by the sound, Severus began to nibble, leaving faint red teeth marks behind.
“M-Master …” Harry whispered, aware that there were people outside and the Potions master hadn’t erected any silencing spells, “please.”
“Please what? What do you want, pet?”
“I want … I want you to erase what that man did to me. Please, Master. Please bite me.”
“You’ll need to use a Glamour on it if you don’t want anyone asking awkward questions.”
“Yes, sir.”
Severus kissed the area fondly, then latched onto it with his teeth, biting down into the flesh hard, refusing to let go even when the body beneath his teeth attempted to jerk away. Reacting quickly, he seized that mop of unruly black hair in his fist, holding the young wizard tightly in place. To his credit, Harry only cried out softly, his hips noticeably rocking forward in an abrupt thrusting motion before he stilled again. Mmm, Severus mused to himself, like that, do you? He filed the information away for later use. Likes domination, check. Likes being spanked, check. Likes being whipped, check. Likes biting … mmm yes, check.
At the first hint of blood in his mouth, he drew away, licking his lips and surveying his work. The large wound wasn’t as deep as the one that had been left on him by Abbas Scott-Morris, but the mark would still be there for at least a week. He lapped at it tenderly, laving away the blood that had collected in the shallow wound. The younger wizard shuddered, goose bumps popping up all over his skin as Severus stood, took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “They should have the barrier up soon.”
Harry nodded, still dazed, his neck tingling where the man’s mouth had been, throbbing with the pain of the bite. It was amazing how different it felt. When Abbas Scott-Morris had bitten him, he’d felt his skin crawl, like hundreds of centipedes were scuttling across him. This … this was the complete opposite. It was warm, the tingles pleasant, exciting. The action had sent flutters of desire through his stomach, where the assault of the escaped Death Eater had only made him want to recoil. Merlin, the man made him feel so … well, he didn’t know what he felt, actually, he just knew it was good.
“Come along, Mr. Potter,” Severus beckoned the distracted man, noting the flush in his cheeks with satisfaction, “your godson is waiting for you.”
****************************************************************************
There you have it, chapter seven! Oh, and the spell Severus uses is one I made up. Praeuro verpo literally means "burn penis." It causes indescribable pain in a man's sensitive bits, makes it feel as if it's burning (and not in a good way), though it doesn't cause any outward damage.
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Punish Me