Exercises in Magical Discipline
Chapter 1: The First Ten
He sat upon the elaborate persian carpet in front of the fire. A book lay next to him, he'd thumbed through it for a while, but now simply waited. He leaned back a bit upon the leather couch, it probably would have provided more comfort for his tired body, but he preferred the floor in Severus' house. Particularly when Severus was present. That was not the case now, so he waited patiently, resting but not quite sleeping. It wouldn't due to sleep yet, his overworked body, thoroughly fatigued from a forty-eight hour shift would probably collapse. He'd arrived at his flat around 10:30 this morning, made breakfast, showered and even indulged in a small nap. Then he'd packed for the weekend, and collected his list for the grocer; he planned to stop on the way to the dungeon. At the market, Harry grabbed several handfuls of fresh vegetables, and then, as he'd reached for the buckwheat pasta, imagined a sneer on the pale face. Perhaps he had time for a side trip to the Italian neighborhood on the lower east. A chianti would pair nicely with the fresh pasta, and he knew Severus would appreciate the extra effort. A glance at the clock near the checkout suggested he'd have to hurry to put the sauce on without magic.
Harry flew past the village, towards the manor, the wards barely acknowledged except for the gooseflesh that was raised on his arms. Severus had keyed it to him, but not in such a way that their traversal went unremarked. Like all of Severus' touch, even the magical remnants produced ripples of feeling. He murmured the appropriate incantation at the entrance, and moved towards the east wing where the dungeons proper lay. Harry felt the tensions of the past week lift as he walked into the personal chambers of his former professor. He slipped off his shoes at the entrance and cast about with his magical senses to see if any of the impressions of Severus were fresh. Disappointed but not surprised, he padded softly to the kitchens and dropped his bags. He washed his hands quickly and efficiently before bending to work dicing and sautéing, smoothly falling into a productive rhythm. He broke into a slight contented hum as he deglazed the plum tomatoes with some of the chianti he'd opened to breathe. He adored Severus, and cooking for him was pleasurable in its own right. While shredding cheese he glanced at the clock and decided not to start the water just yet. He cleaned up, poured a glass of wine into a flawless crystal goblet and looked around the kitchen, picking up the jacket he'd shrugged off before going to the bedroom and hanging it in the wardrobe. Once there, he pulled off his jumper, removed his socks. Clad only in trousers and a soft silk shirt, he had gone to the library, where he now sat, patiently waiting.
The potions master was late. Harry wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but he figured that as usual it was exactly what was needed. It had been a long week for The Boy Who Lived (And-Then-Nearly-Died-Killing-The-Dark- Lord Only-To-Find-That-His-Obligations-To-The-Wizarding-World-Still-Hadn't-Ended). He asked himself –again- why must he continue to do this? He'd become an auror for fuck's sake, choosing to condemn himself to a career of serving the wizarding society who had elevated an eleven year old to god status rather than figure out how to solve it's own problems. And after requiring the sacrifice of his childhood and its innocence, the bloody demands hadn't ended. He'd met the dark lord, vanquished him, lost his parents, his closest friends, his godfather, his mentor and the adoptive family whose, perhaps, only fault had been to care for him.
He no longer wanted care, nor love, and certainly not publicity. He just wanted peace. To sleep and perhaps have a bit of company. Surely the heavens owed him that? Someone who perhaps understood that his soul was tired. He'd like to remove all responsibility, his doubts, his obligations, his regrets, the endless decisions that hovered about waiting to be resolved. He'd even willingly surrender power over his own body, for just the slightest respite. His attachment to life was too strong to give up and die. But still, he needed some time to turn off his brain, without compromising the discipline he exercised over his impulses, both magical and not. Thus: Severus. Severus was…restful. Even when he was demanding. Harry smiled at that thought.
He was still smiling when a hand upon his shoulder alerted him to the dom's presence. Harry felt the touch to his toes and drew a deep, shuddering breath at the knowledge that finally Severus, his salvation, was home. He savored the firm feel of his master's touch for just more than a moment, and then, with feline grace, shifted into a kneeling position so that he might kiss the hem of the black robes. Harry could feel the weight of the dark gaze above him, and he instilled his pledge with the longing and devotion that had been simmering within him. Severus. He maintained the prostrate position and prepared to wait.
Severus felt the frisson of magical energy that escaped Harry as he kissed the bottom of the robe. Intriguing. The boy was leaking energy and he hadn't even pushed him yet. True, Harry had more magical energy than most, and it pulsed frightfully close to the surface on the best of occasions, but the former teacher had only seen the boy discharge a few times, and that was usually, er, provoked. Harry held a rather tightly, controlled rein upon his magic; it was either do that or watch the wizarding world suffer the consequences. Perhaps, it may have been a more eventful week than the boy had admitted during their brief conversations over the last few days.
He leaned down and touched the soft head of his pet, briefly capturing the silky tendrils before running a finger down the right cheek, allowing his fingers to linger as Harry turned his face into the caress, and then tilting the chin up, looking deep into the adoring gaze before him. There. Behind the bright emerald green of desire, along the fringes, where the green faded to a pale imposter of the iris, exhaustion lurked. He raised the boy with his fingertips until Harry was standing and brought the perfect, red bow of a mouth to his lips before he spoke.
"I fear," a soft sweep of breath passed over lips gently parted, "that you have misplaced the wretchedly," a devastating graze of teeth, "small measure of control with which I have long endeavored to imbue you."
Snape plundered the boy's mouth before he could open it to respond, taking what was offered and then demanding more. Only when he felt the legs between his buckling, did he temper the kiss, placing steadying hands on Harry's hips, moving him to stand before the roman couch . "I regret that our dinner must wait until I have rectified your sadly undisciplined state. Perhaps, though, you can offer the slightest cooperation, and this bit of maintenance may not require our entire evening?" A disbelieving brow arched.
"Yes, Severus."
"Excellent. Then, I would suggest you continue the disrobing you left incomplete, for reasons surpassing understanding, and assume an appropriate position upon the couch, that we may begin." Harry glanced up quickly in surprise, and then dropped his eyes again. "No restraints, love. I did mention that you would provide some cooperation, did I not?"
"Yes, Severus."
"Indeed, you will endeavor to comport yourself in a deferential manner without external assistance. To be trite, it will be educational for you."
"Yes, Severus." Harry felt another bit of tension leave his shoulders in that moment. He trusted Severus, and in all of their experiences since the war, he had never been disappointed. The man did not merely offer comfort, he had an almost preternatural ability to know exactly how to mend the spirit. With that last thought, Harry removed his trainers, and with exquisite grace, lay face down upon the punishment couch.
A gloved hand traced his spine from the nape of his neck to the cleft of his arse. Harry shivered. "Softly, cat, you have my permission to undulate, rock or arch, however, make certain that you resume a proper demonstration of obedience. I believe I would like you to count as well. At least during the first ten, then" a thoughtful pause, "we shall see." Severus barely finished the last syllable before the leather flogger made contact with harry's back.
"One," the first was a kiss of leather.
"two," a lingering kiss.
"three," was perfectly placed between his shoulder blades exacting a moan that he just kept behind his teeth.
"Four" a promise of what was to come
"Five," he sucked in air quickly in order to absorb the blow
"S-S-Six" he hissed as the leather cat found perfect purchase on the soft skin connecting thigh to cheek, before
a groan, "Seven" and an almost lingering pause.
"Eight" was a revelation. His body clenched, his erection rubbing against the brocade before he quickly curved his spine and arched his arse once more
"Nine" was upon him as he reached for it with his flesh, his moan an articulate though incomprehensible gurgle in his throat.
Nothing for a moment, time stretched while he strained to maintain a deferential posture, his shoulders and chest pressed to the couch, his arse high and waiting, and then,
the leather thudded, and Harry croaked, "ten" as he began to shudder, aftershocks ricocheting through his thighs, his arse, his toes. The press of leather trousers, heat and soft and heavy pinned him to the couch and every nerve ending was caressed. Enveloped. His quiet scream was muffled by the pillows as the shivers began anew.
"I am impressed" a hot breath in his ear as the whisper echoed the sensations rioting across his scarlet skin. "Indeed. Though," a reflective note entered the whiskey voice, "I fear we've only begun for the evening…"