Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all public characters, and the world of Harry Potter. There is no intention to violate copyright.
Warning: non-graphic cp scene, as seen through Severus's thoughts. It is rough, but that scene is separated out by dividers. Skipping it will not affect the story.
Acceptance and Understanding
Monday, November 30, 1998
Soft snickering from my common room alerted me that Potter heard my grumblings. I grunted in response, and continued marking. The backlog of ungraded assignments seemed unending, but I hoped to have it finished by the weekend. The next essay proved more infuriating than the last, and I groused in annoyance, "Bloody waste of time grading this illegible rubbish."
Potter's chuckling sounded closer, and I glanced at my door to see him enter my study. What could he want? He leaned with his shoulder against the frame, and cheekily asked, "Is that my essay you are grading?"
My lip curled slightly as I answered, "Thankfully, Sir, Headmistress McGonagall has that pleasure."
The youth laughed in response, and motioned to the common room as he asked, "Would you like to join me for dinner, or do you plan to eat in the Great Hall?" Was it that late? He attempted to act nonchalant, as he glanced at my pile of work. I easily detected his anxiety.
The youth wanted something, but he seemed afraid to ask. That was preposterous, because I could deny him nothing. What did he have to fear? He shifted nervously, as I studied him with my gaze. My voice softened when I asked, "Sir, would you like me to join you?" Potter nodded his head silently. I had conflicting emotions, because part of me wanted to eat with him. That was not something I wished to acknowledge, so I uttered dismissively, "Chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and chocolate ice-cream with fudge topping."
Potter grinned at me, and left my office. The house elves would have dinner served in less than a minute, so I attempted to finish marking the paper I earlier started. It was one spelling mistake after another, and those were on the legible words. A large red 'D' graced the parchment, and then I glanced at the name of the student. The corners of my mouth curled upwards as I read 'Ron Weasley.' Perhaps, I should give him a 'T' instead. Potter interrupted my thoughts when he called, "Dinner!"
With a smirk at the failed report, I rose from my chair and joined the youth for dinner. There were carrots on my plate. Those I had not ordered, so I called for Zincky. The elderly elf smiled at me when I motioned to my dinner. She shook her head in amusement, and with a glance at Potter she stated, "Zincky not add them." My brow rose skeptically, but she continued to explain, "Harry Potter orders carrots."
What child asks for vegetables? There was something truly wrong with the boy. He looked at me curiously, as he watched my interaction with the elf. We ate in silence, but he kept glancing at my plate. Without looking at him, I calmly explained, "Sir, I am unable to digest large quantities of food." Potter glanced at me curiously, so I motioned to the carrots and continued, "Nutrient potions suffice in place of vegetables."
The youth raised his brow to me, and glanced skeptically at the large serving of ice cream. His gaze met mine, and I noticed his smirk as he lightly accused, "I thought you couldn't lie to me?" That was the truth! Potter chuckled at my indignation and mentioned, "Severus, I will not force you to eat vegetables. However, your wife might." A soft groan escaped, as I knew the boy was right. He smiled and continued to explain, "I always wanted to try these. Dudley often ordered them at restaurants, and they looked delicious. Have you ever eaten candied carrots?"
They received my attention as I responded, "Not that I can recall." I stabbed one with my fork and cautiously sniffed. The butter was obvious, but I also detected brown sugar and a hint of lemon. Potter watched as I ate, and he continued to stare at me while waiting for a comment. Surprisingly, they were adequate. My voice softened while I mentioned, "They were not unpleasant." His eyes glistened at my response, and his smile widened. His explanation made me curious, so I asked of him, "Why would you not have ordered them, Master?"
Potter shrugged dismissively as he attempted to avoid the question. The youth's eyes would not meet mine, and we ate in silence. I ate half my ice cream before the youth divulged, "They did not let me." My brows rose curiously, as Potter attempted to avoid my eyes. His gaze rested on the table when he admitted, "I was the charity case, and I had to wait in the car when they went inside."
They had some nerve! Did Albus know how they treated the boy? I heard rumors about his childhood, but I had no idea. Lily would never have permitted that wretched sister anywhere near her child. My voice sounded gruffer than I intended, "Master, you were not a charity case. They received a monthly stipend from your family's vault." The youth smirked in response. Why did this not infuriate him? Curiously, I probed for more information, "Did they eat out often, Master, while you waited?"
We continued to eat in silence. Potter finished his ice cream before he quietly answered, "Not too often. That just happened when on vacation. Usually, they left me at home to finish my chores." He smiled guiltily at me as he shamefully admitted, "I worked too slowly, and I seldom completed them quickly enough to earn dinner." His cheeks reddened as he confessed, "I tried to work faster, and then I made mistakes. They punished me for my sloppiness." His potions assignments were little better, and they received the same result.
My gaze lingered on the youth, as I watched him nervously fidget. Did he feel responsible for the way his family treated him? His resentment was reasonable, and yet, I understood his guilt. I too blamed myself for angering Tobias enough to beat me. We spoke about his home life, and he asked about mine. It made me uncomfortable to discuss something so personal, so I briefly described it. He understood, and did not ask for more.
Zincky served us tea, and we continued our conversation. Naturally, I did not offer too many personal details. Potter finished his second cup of tea when he asked, "Severus, what are you going to do in seven months?" My brows lifted curiously, as I thought we already covered that. I would enjoy my summer, and start my new career in the fall.
Potter noted my confusion and further explained, "Grimmauld Place is aptly named. It is a grim, old, place. Spinner's End is not much better, and they both need renovations." That much was true. The youth paused for a moment, and hesitantly asked, "Do you want to live at Grimmauld place?"
That was an easy question to answer. I calmly responded, "It is not my preference, Sir." Suddenly, it occurred to me that I failed to tell him about the Prince Family. The bond would never allow me to keep that secret. "Sir, I have another option." He glanced curiously at me, and waited while I explained, "We could live at Prince Manor."
Potter stared at me in confusion. It was completely understandable, because he received all my other assets. My hand slipped into my pocket, and I showed him the scroll from the ministry. The youth read it curiously, and glanced at me while I explained, "The Prince ancestral home was kept by magic, and a team of house elves. Eileen once told me that it was a glorious old castle made of dark marble. It was more of a country home, and not the larger castles you see in the city districts."
The youth studied me curiously, and then his gaze fell to the parchment. He sounded intrigued when he admitted, "This may do nicely. Your children will inherit everything when they turn seventeen, and that will give me the time needed to ready Grimmauld place for mine." He glanced at me guiltily as he surmised, "You lost the Prince inheritance, because of the bond. That explains a lot of your earlier anger."
He was partly right, but I needed to correct him, "It may have added to my anger, Sir. However, Mr. Weasley earned my outrage." His broadcasting my punishment still irritated me, and I suspected it always would. My previous thought lead to another and my anxiety spiked when I remembered what we planned for tonight.
Punishment - This part is just the punishment. You could skip it without missing the story.
Potter glanced at me knowingly. My emotional mask stayed firmly in place, but that was out of habit. The youth hesitated, and glanced to the chair in the middle of the room. He stared at it silently, and I wished to read his mind. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. The youth glanced at me hesitantly as he asked, "It is two hours earlier than we planned, but would you like to ..."
My eyes closed as I attempted to get my emotions under control. The youth easily detected my mortification, as the humiliation was nearly too much. There was also anxiety, because the static was intense. I suspected the cane would prove abusive, and I had no idea about the slipper. My voice stayed calm as I firmly stated, "It would please me to end it."
Potter nodded his head in understanding, and then we rose from the table to cast various spells around the room. My eyes narrowed as I spied him applying the cushioning charm to McGonagall's chair. Potter glanced at me and asked, "Severus, are you ready?"
My head shook in response, as I replied, "No." He seemed relieved by that answer, and he said nothing when I walked into my bedroom to remove my robes and cloak. He glanced at me when I returned. Without another word, I vanished into the bathroom to do what I needed.
The youth waited patiently, and he did not move when I stepped back into the room. His voice sounded unsure when he asked, "Is there anything else?" My head shook in answer. He glanced to the drawer where I earlier placed the sole, and I knew what he wanted. Now I regretted putting the bloody thing away. I hated this part.
He had no need to ask, because I knew to retrieve the weapon. Potter held out his hand, and I felt my anxiety spike. My humiliation worsened, and I knew he felt it. Perhaps, his own delicate situation would help me. My gaze moved to the table as I held the sole out to Potter. My voice became firm, and I mentioned, "Sir, it is my preference to bend over the table."
Potter did not argue, or even ask me to explain. Instead, he motioned to the table and I took the required stance. He placed his palm on my lower back, and started without another word. At first, the swats felt annoying. It took a few smacks before I noticed any decrease in the tingling sensation, but I was not worried. This was a child's punishment.
The tingling sensation dropped to half, and my confidence bottomed out. The pain was excruciating. My body began reacting on its own, and I bit my lower lip. The taste of blood failed to discourage me from pressing even harder. My eyes pricked with tears, as the tingling sensation faded to a quarter. The thought of losing control caused near panic, and then I realized my right leg had lifted off the floor. In my mind, I kept hearing the words of my father, as he continued to yell at me for my weakness. Severus, get yourself under control! This is a child's punishment!
My leg lifted again, and I felt myself curling against the edge of the table, as if attempting to get into the fetal position. Take it like a man! It was mortifying. A Snape knows how to take his punishment. The sucking of my breath sounded strained, and I desperately attempted to control it. My cheeks felt damp, and I realized I was crying. Men do not cry! Severus, pull yourself together! I pressed my eyes firmly into the sleeve of my shirt, as I attempted to hide my disgrace. My inner cheeks bled, and I resisted the urge to cry out.
Suddenly, it ended, and it pleased me that I took it silently. The tingling sensation was gone, and I felt Potter back away. The youth was crying, and I could hear it in his watery voice as he said, "Severus, you may rise." It did not matter to me that he bawled, because my tears mortified me. They were not something I wanted him to see, and I rose stiffly with my face turned from him. Without a word, I strode into the bathroom, and shut the door.
An Overdue Chat
A glance in the mirror highlighted my loss of control, as my face was red and splotchy. How many minutes did that take? Should I have asked him to stop? What would that have accomplished? My eyes were puffy, and I gently pushed at the skin with the tips of my fingers. This would take more than a few splashes of water. It was not my intention for anyone to see me looking like this, but I could not stay in the bathroom forever. Perhaps, it was a good time for a shower. Without warning, the bond fully healed me. I actually smiled.
The shower was relaxing, and I felt completely refreshed when I left. Magic assisted me with getting dressed, and a glance in the mirror confirmed my face appeared normal. Thankfully, the shower managed to fix the cried out look. Potter did not leave my suite, so I took another glance at myself in the mirror, and I exited the bathroom.
The youth looked miserable. He stared dejectedly at the floor, and he refused to look at me. It was hard to stay angry, when the bond quickly banished my pain. I watched as he absently rubbed the palm of his hand against his arm, and wiped his sleeve over his face. He turned from me, and quietly gasped, "Severus, I-I am sorry." He hid his tears, but he could not keep them from his voice. The youth was emotionally torn. A shudder rippled through his body, and I heard his watery gasp as he attempted to suck in air. Was he actually sobbing?
Should I call Minerva? She would know what to do. No, that would not work. I could see her showing irritation at the boy's weakness. What was wrong with him? Perhaps, he needed me to say something. My voice remained calm as I silkily stated, "You had no choice. The bond would have killed me if you refused."
Potter's shoulders shook, as he attempted to control his emotions. The boy grew up much too soon. However, at the moment, he seemed younger than his years. He hugged himself with his arms, and curled up tightly while leaning against the cold stone wall. He sniffed softly and mentioned, "That is no excuse. I caused the static." That much was true.
The situation was entirely too awkward, and I wanted to flee. However, the boy needed me, and it felt wrong to leave. What should I do? How could I help the youth? My gaze never left him as I contemplated the situation, and then I thought of Lily. I remembered the summer when Tobias was off work, and how she would comfort me. She did the same thing when I was at school. How could I do that to Potter, with us both being male? Would he hit me? If he tried the same on me, I would probably hex him.
Hesitantly, I approached the youth from behind and gently reached across his back to place my hand on his shoulder. His sudden movement caused me to flinch, and then he surprised me. The youth pushed off the wall, turned towards me, and embraced me tightly. I was too shocked to remove my hand. My arm now draped across his back, as if I too meant to hug him. The situation became extremely awkward, and I felt the boy's face press against my shoulder as he cried.
It was obvious he needed a hug, although my body remained stiff. I brought my other hand to the back of his head. I watched fathers do that with their sons, but it felt awkward. Was I supposed to hold his head, or pet him like a pup? It was easier to think of him as a pet. With a gentle voice, I silkily mentioned, "Sir, I am fully healed." He sniffled in response, and my lips curled as a repulsive thought occurred to me. Did he wipe snot on my shirt? In an equally gentle voice, I attempted to offer more comfort, "I am no longer angered."
The youth did not say anything, and I continued to hold him. Eventually, the awkwardness waned and I was able to relax. Perhaps, this made my embrace more comforting. The youth cried into my shoulder for several minutes, and it became obvious that he needed something more. I spoke soft words of reassurance, and noticed as he embraced me more firmly. Did he forget I was his hated potions master? It no longer mattered, because this was what he seemed to need. My paternalistic feelings dominated, and I once again attempt to squash them. They were not proper, because the youth was my Master.
Potter eventually fell silent, and then he gently pulled away. He had stopped crying, but his emerald eyes shone brightly to show his having shed some tears. He glanced at me, and softly said, "Thanks, Severus." He received a nod in acknowledgement, and I watched as he returned to his chair at the table. It was obvious he wished to talk, so I took mine and we sat in silence. Perhaps, we could forget what just happened. His gaze met mine, and I strained to hear his quietly spoken words, "Severus, this can never happen again. What can we do to prevent it?"
Unfortunately, I struggled for most of the day with that question. I studied it from many angles, but there was only one solution. It held no appeal to me. It was with regret that I mentioned, "We cannot control the actions of others, such as Ron Weasley. Sir, you are my Master."
Potter raised his brows skeptically at me, as if my answer raised more questions than it solved. He received a smirk in response, and then I forced myself to explain, "Sir, I am unable to disobey a direct order. At some point, you had to know that I lost control of my temper. Anger infuriated me, and I no longer cared about displeasing the bond. Perhaps, if you..." I couldn't say it.
The youth glanced at me when I stopped talking, and I noticed the hint of a smile. His gaze met mine, and he attempted to complete my thoughts as he said, "You want me to issue a command? If I told you to sit down, and shut up, then you would not have gotten into trouble?"
My lips curled slightly as I scoffed, "Those are not the words I would use. However, Sir, I think it would prove effective." Silence settled, and I pondered the situation. My gaze lifted from the table as I quietly mentioned, "Sir, I have one request." He looked into my eyes, and waited curiously for me to ask, "Could you be discrete? My preference is for nobody else to know."
Potter nodded his head softly in response. He smiled at me as he admitted, "It would surprise me to hear anything else. In all honesty, Severus, this conversation is shocking. Could you imagine having asked this question of me last year?" I would have considered the use of painful hexes on a student. He laughed at my smirk and admitted, "Yeah that is what I thought. You would have killed me."
"Perhaps, that is still an option," I stated somewhat cheekily. Potter sobered slightly, as he stared at me. My innocent expression earned another smirk. My hand ran through my dampened hair, as I curiously asked, "What are your plans for Christmas?"
The youth glanced at me, before his attention returned to his hands. Was he afraid of my reaction? He raised his gaze to mine and mentioned, "The Weasley family invited us to the Burrow. I planned to take the train to London with Ron, and go straight there. It was my intention to stay for a week, and spend the second half of the holidays examining our future home. At the time, I was thinking of Grimmauld Place. Would you like to spend a week at Prince Manor?"
Potter could not help, but to feel my horror through the link when he suggested my spending a week in the Weasley abode. No, that was never going to happen. Not while I had a choice. My voice became firmer than I intended, as I said, "Sir, I normally spend the Holidays at Spinner's End. The solitude relaxes me, and I would prefer it." The nod of his head pleased me, as I feared his dragging me to that horrid place. However, his idea of spending time at the Manor was adequate. With a glance at the inheritance scroll, I calmly offered, "While you are at the Burrow, I will gather information about the manor. Perhaps, I will spend time searching the family vault."
The youth smiled tiredly at me as he asked, "Can you have everything ready by the twenty-sixth?" My head nodded in answer, and then he continued, "We can meet at Hogwarts." Potter stifled a yawn, and glanced at his books. He retrieved the potions text and asked, "What did you think of my liquid luck?"
Normally, such a question would annoy me. However, he is the one student who never received a grade for his potions, because I could only mark them as completed. My voice became silky as I answered his question, "The consistency was correct, but the color was slightly off. It should have been clear, but yours was close. It was one of the best potions I have seen you make, Sir." My emotionless mask held firmly as I cheekily stated, "Clearly, it exceeded expectations."
Potter's reaction was amusing, as he smiled proudly, and then his eyes filled with doubt. He considered my words, and glanced at me curiously. The slight curling of my lips brought his smile back as he admitted, "Draco helped me. Granger would always correct my errors too, but she did it differently. Draco noticed that I was cutting the roots incorrectly, and he told me why I had to slice them. He explained what I needed to look for, because the surface should glisten with moisture. Chopping them caused the liquid to ooze out, and I never considered that before."
Obviously, he failed to listen during first year potions. Otherwise, he would have already known that. However, I nodded my head slowly, to confirm his new-found knowledge. It was well past curfew, and the earlier activity seemed to have exhausted me. The youth looked no more awake, and so I offered, "Sir, would you like to stay here for the night?"
He looked around the room, and I watched as his gaze fell on the couch. He glanced back at me and asked, "Would I sleep on the sofa?" The nod of my head answered his question, and he easily admitted, "Sure, that sounds like fun." What did he mean by that? How can sleeping on the couch be a source of amusement?
The youth could have transmogrified his robes into proper sleeping attire, but that only caused unnecessary wear. Instead, I found a nightshirt from my wardrobe and offered that to him. We transmogrified pillows and blankets, and took turns completing our nightly rituals in the bathroom. He was asleep by the time I finished. I almost envied him. That night I lay awake in my bed, and wondered about adding a guest room. Perhaps, it was time to accept the other aspects of the bond. We needed one another.