A/N: This chapter has suffered so many changes that I really want to think it's perfect right now, even if I know that's not possible.

Ok, I'm not going to say anything else just not to spoil surprises. I hope I don't disappoint anyone and the story doesn't lose too many readers…

Enjoy ^_^

MY MASTER

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Introduction to mastery

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by Saeshmea

I trust very little Dumbledore's words when he says I have nothing to worry about. I have killed innocent people. I have tortured innocent people. I was, I am and I will always be ,to the eyes of magic justice, a Death Eater; and he will not make me believe the opposite.

The Ministry is eager to show the wizarding community that they have everything under control, they need to regain the trust of people and we - the very few that are standing in trial during these weeks - have to pay for our own crimes and the ones committed by those who are still hiding or have been able to buy their freedom.

I know enough names to give example of both, names nobody else would dare to point at, but they are of little help to me, because I used what could have been my ticket to freedom even before the Dark Lord was defeated. I gave Dumbledore all the information he wanted, I betrayed my Master and those who I considered my friends in exchange for one only life: Lily's; and he failed to protect her.

That's why it's hard for me to believe Dumbledore has any power to help me, that's why I've gotten used to the idea that I will spent the rest of my days in Azkaban, that's why I'm unable to show any emotion when I learn I won't.

...

"You'll stay in probation under my responsibility for the next ten years," he explains to me as we walk our way out of the subterranean halls of the Ministry, "to make it easier, you will come to Hogwarts," he says, "I know it's not where you'd like to be, but it's better than Azkaban."

"I don't need your charity," I mutter as we enter the elevator.

"It's not charity I'm giving you, Severus," he replies, "it's a job, a home, a life."

"A job?" I question.

"As a professor," he says, "I'm sure you have a lot to offer to the new generations, my boy."

The elevator doors open but I don't come out. Me, a teacher? A Hogwarts professor?

"I guess I am good on the Dark Arts subject," I say.

"Well," he extends that word, probably thinking about a nice way to reject that idea, "there's no vacancy on that field yet," he says, "but Professor Slughorn is retiring soon and I thought you could occupy his place next year."

"Potions?" I spit.

"Yes," he says, "I noticed you had your own laboratory in your house when I visited you, and when I checked your NEWTs marks I saw they were excellent," he explained, "I thought you'd find my proposition suitable."

"Well, yes sir," I say, "but it is one thing to brew some potions for my own and another to teach a bunch of kids how to do it. I wouldn't know how to start."

"That's why I want you to move to the Castle right away," he says, "you'll be Horace's apprentice for the rest of the term, work hand in hand with him to get used to the job."

"Do I have a choice?" I ask, thinking of how much I despised that man when I was a student.

"Not unless you want to go back to the court on your own," he says with that ability of his to hide threats behind the sweet tone of his voice.

Later I'm at home, going through bookshelves, drawers and closets, wondering what I am supposed to take with me and what not. I know I don't need to pack anything from my laboratory because Hogwarts has its own labs and they are better equipped; I'd like to take with me my entire library, but I guess I won't have place in my rooms for so many books, so I end up putting in my old trunk only those that I think could be useful. Clothes are an easier choice to make; when I'm done taking the essentials, the only thing left in my closet is a box resting in a corner.

I haven't opened it in a long time, the things I keep in it would distress the majority of people, but not everyone.

…

It was my last year at Hogwarts. During the summer I had came across some magazines hidden in my father's room. They were porn. I had already seen some of those before, my roommates brought them from home, and even though they never shared them with me, I could sometimes get a glimpse of the naked women moving sensually in the pictures, and wouldn't understand what was so interesting of them.

The photographs of my father's magazines didn't move, but they awoke in me a lot more interest. These ones showed women being tied up, kneeling in front of a man or another woman, being spanked or flogged... Sometimes there were short stories about these submissive women and I would go into the bathroom in the middle of the night to read them and masturbate myself as I imagined I was their master.

When I went back to school that year I brought a few of those magazines with me. One morning, one of my classmates found one and showed it around saying it was mine. I thought they'd make fun of me, that they would think I was a weirdo... but they liked the pictures, they laughed at the girls on them and commented their bodies as if they were like the women on the other magazines; but they weren't, not to me.

That same day I received a note: Meet me in the prefect's bathrooms at 10 o'clock. It had no signature but it was a beautiful handwriting, surely from a girl, and curiosity made me attend the date.

"You came," her voice said after I closed the door. She was tall, brunette, with round tights and wearing a Slytherin uniform, but I didn't know her.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"The magazine the boys had this morning," she said, her hand suddenly caressing my chest, "was it really yours?"

"Yes," I answered, distressed by her touch, "who are you?" I insisted.

Cristine, that was her name. She was a sixth year student and my first submissive. We would meet in the prefect's bathroom or the owlery at night. At the beginning she would guide me, tell me what she wanted me to do or say. I didn't understand why pain excited her so much, but it was beautiful to see the reaction of her body or the changes on her face and knowing I was responsible for that.I never felt in love with her, and I don't think she did either. I just liked having her in my power, control her, being Master of her body in a way I would never be of Lily's. Her own reasons didn't interest me.

Because I'm bringing too many luggage with me I decide to take the Express to Hogsmeade. Maybe there's also a little nostalgia involved in the choice, but I don't give it a deeper thought.

The train is almost empty, peaceful… and I realize I could be enjoying this journey a lot better if I wasn't thinking of Dumbledore, and the fact that I owe him my 'freedom, and the promise I made him and must keep, and Slughorn, and how I despised his teaching ways, and having to work with him for the next months… I shake my head, trying to drive all this thoughts away and thinking of anything else, and an image of Professor McGonagall bended over the professor's table in the Great Hall as I flog her ass with that thick leather belt of hers suddenly flashes in my mind.

…

Last Saturday it was my birthday and, since there was still a possibility that I would end up in Azkaban in a few days, I decided to give myself a treat going back to La Maison de la Soumission, where I hadn't been since I joined the Death Eaters. I needed to screw and torture any bitch I could find, specially since it would probably be my last fuck. I arrived early and sat on the couches, not many time later a woman came in and stayed at the bar. She was new, I could tell by the way she observed everything going on in the room, and because usual customers never wear the white free masks they give you, we prefer something more personal.

I tried to pay little attention to her, if she was a mistress I had no interest at all; so I continued looking around, but, somehow, I always ended up peeping her. She was not young, I could tell that, and she was too skinny for my liking; but she reminded me of someone, her hair bun, her stiff sitting position… at some point, my former transfiguration teacher came to my mind and as ridiculous as that possibility could sound, I changed my seat to be closer to the mysterious woman. Suddenly the resemblance became undeniable. It had to be her.

My guess was confirmed when she got free from her mask for a moment. There she was, my former Professor McGonagall, sitting at the bar of La Maison de la Soumission, with her face unveiled.

I approached her with no intention of taking her upstairs, I just wanted to tease her, to find out what she was doing there. She had been my professor, it had to be wrong in some manner; but as we spoke, she became just a woman to my eyes, a grown gorgeous woman in need of freedom.

I knew exactly what kind of freedom she was talking about. She was running away from her own self, she needed to become someone else, just like I do when I act as a master. Looking at her eyes I understood I could give her what she needed.

As I wait for Dumbledore to meet me at the gates, looking at the view of the school covered by a snow blanket, I can't help but think she's somewhere in that Castle, needing me just as much as I need her.

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TO BE CONTINUED...