Hey guys! :)
First of all, thank you jennie for your review! :) I also really loved the idea of a magical college, sth for after Hogwarts ;)
WARNING: CORPORAL PUNISHMENT AND HUMILIATION in this chap!
Pettigrew almost choked on his butter beer, "wh…what? Gryffindor? A Professor?"
"Hard to imagine, right?", Tom mumbled, taking a sip of his ice cold coffee. They had a coffee machine, but Tom had no idea how to work it correctly, and Pettigrew refused to touch anything that was invented by Muggles.
"What are you going to do now, My…uhm…Master?"
He shrugged, staring into his coffee cup. He had not slept well, even though Quilliam had been very helpful, but his dreams had been full of nightmares, and in the morning, he had been covered in cold sweat.
"I am going to find out what he's really doing there- there's no way that bastard is trying to help someone out."
"A trap?", Peter suggested, his haggard face turning pale.
"If he wanted to send me back to that place, he could", Tom sighed, rubbing his eyes, "but there's definitely something wrong with him being a Professor suddenly- I don't trust him."
"Maybe…he's trying to get to me by getting to you, Master", Peter now said, looking basically sick at that thought.
"That's a possibility, yes", Tom agreed, taking another sip of his coffee, which really tasted more like mud than anything else, "I know he's pissed at the fact that you are the only Death Eater who got away."
"We should…just move, maybe to…"
Tom just snorted, "move? Because that wouldn't be suspicious if I suddenly disappear, right? No, I am going to keep attending college- he won't take that away from me", he got up, "I actually have class with him today, so I better hurry."
Pettigrew watched him getting his satchel and his jacket silently, secretly still hoping his Master would change his mind- he hated living in this shitty apartment, especially now that the toilet was clogged again and he would be the one having to fix it.
"You need to get us some food, Peter", Tom now said, frowning at the empty counter spaces, "I had to throw some shit out that the roaches got into", he grabbed the last bag of chips which would have to serve as his lunch for today, "and see if you can get some info from the streets about Gryffindor- no one is going to notice you as a rat."
Pettigrew mostly stayed in his Animagus form, only changing when he was at home to lower the risk of getting caught. He used a disfiguration spell whenever he had to steal, but they had gotten clever enough that so far, no one had even caught them in the act.
Tom left a few minutes later, catching the bus just in time. He sat where he always sat- all the way in the back- and kept staring out of the window. Was it a mistake to basically surrender himself to Gryffindor like this? What if he was really going to tell Hastings the truth and have him getting kicked out?
The thought of not being able to study, research, and read through the enormous library Seymour's College had anymore made his stomach churn. Attending college was the only good thing he had going for himself right now since everything else was such a mess.
He exited the bus, still deep in thought, and minutes later, he stepped into the entrance hall of Seymour's College. He smiled, coming here always made him smile- it felt like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders. Ancient Magic was his first class for today, so he slowly made his way to the classroom- Gryffindor's classroom.
He got there right before Gryffindor, quickly taking his seat.
"Good morning, class."
"Good morning, Professor Gryffindor", the students chorused back, and the Founder smiled, "sit down, please. I allowed myself to update the curriculum once more for today's topic", he handed Sean a stack of papers, and the boy eagerly handed them out.
"The topic can be found under section four, part one."
The Advantages of the Unforgivable Spells and their Significance regarding the Destruction of the Dark Order.
For about ten seconds, all he could do was stare at the paper in front of him, hardly believing his eyes.
He is really going there…that bastard.
That Gryffindor had managed to effectively demolish the Dark Order, his pride and joy, had hurt like hell- especially since he had dared to use the Imperio on some of his Death Eaters, turning them against him, and now he had the nerve to throw his biggest humiliation in his face like that?
Alright- the war is on, Gryffindor.
He had not intended to start this early, but with Gryffindor openly mocking him like this, he felt like he had no choice.
"Any questions so far?", Gryffindor sounded completely casual, but when Tom looked up, their eyes met- and then Gryffindor's lips turned into an ironic little smile.
Tom bit his lips, realizing what the Founder was doing here- he was trying to get him lose control, he was trying to make him admit who he really was.
You think I don't have any self-control, do you?
Well, he'd be surprised- because he had no intention of getting kicked out of this class or out of this college.
As expected, no one raised their hand to ask a question.
"Very well then- we are going to start with a little bit of reading today", Gryffindor's voice was still casual and Tom hated him for it, "just to refresh your memory, I put a timeline about the Dark Order on the back of your curriculum, the most important events are highlighted."
Tom flipped the paper over, dread forming in his stomach. The timeline was extensive, but there was only one event highlighted- the day he had been arrested and the Death Eaters had gotten sent to Azkaban. It had been the worst day of his life- and apparently, the highlight of Gryffindor's.
"Why don't we have one of you read that timeline out loud", Gryffindor now suggested, and Tom knew what was going to happen before he had even said it.
"Samoal- how about you read it to us?"
Fucking bastard.
"My pleasure, Professor", he kept his voice sickly sweet, even though he felt like screaming.
Two can play this game, asshole.
He started to read, making sure not to put any kind of emotions into his voice, knowing that Gryffindor just waited for any kind of mistake like that.
It was horrible to be forced to read his own failings out loud in front of Gryffindor, having to admit his defeat with the Dark Order, and he hated, hated, hated the Founder for doing this to him.
Finally, it was over- and Gryffindor moved on to another student to read the part of the Unforgivable Spells.
After that, they had a class discussion about the Unforgivable Spells- which was basically about which one of them was the most destructive one. Some students argued that the Crucio was more destructive than the Avada since it led to a long term suffering instead of a quick death, while others said that the Avada was the ultimate destruction- the destruction of life.
Tom did not participate, even though he did find the question intriguing- and damn Gryffindor for that, but he never participated in class discussions, and he was well aware that Gryffindor would not give a damn about his opinion anyways. So, he decided to focus on his arithmetic problem again, taking out a paper and a pen. He tuned out the others, an ability he had perfectionated, and soon later, he was scribbling down formulas, not even seeing the danger that was coming closer.
"Having fun, Samoal?", it sounded sarcastic, and before he could react, Gryffindor had taken his paper, holding it up for everyone to see, "look at that- your classmate here seems to think he is in an arithmetic class- maybe you need to be escorted to one, Samoal", Tom had no problem identifying the underlining threat in that sentence and he bit his lips.
Shit. I thought he wouldn't care what I was doing.
"Sean, do me a favor-", the boy jumped up from his seat before Gryffindor had even finished his sentence, "please be so kind and tell Samoal what class he is in right now- he seems to have forgotten it."
"This is Ancient Magic, Professor", Sean replied, sounding smug. Tom knew the boy disliked him for always writing better papers- and now he was paying him back for it.
Little prick.
"Repeat that, Samoal", his voice was soft, but the expression in his eyes was hard, hard and unforgiving.
Just like he looked at me when he arrested me- like I am dirt under his shoes.
"This…is Ancient Magic, Professor", he said quietly, feeling humiliated.
"Precisely- and since you seem to need a reminder of the rules here, see me after class today, Samoal."
"Yes, Professor", he felt sick. Talking to Gryffindor by himself again was the worst thing that could have happened.
The rest of the class passed in a blur, and when everyone packed up and left, Tom stayed seated, staring at the floor. He'd rather be anywhere else right now- why the hell had he come back? He knew Gryffindor despised him, he knew this was going to happen.
"Eyes up, boy", Gryffindor sounded different now, his tone was icy cold, "do you have anything to say to me?"
I wish you were dead?
"I really can't think of anything, no", he forced himself to grin, even though his heart was beating so fast now he was certain Gryffindor could hear it.
"Nothing to say about the fact you were doing your arithmetic homework in my class?"
It wasn't homework.
"I was bored- what else was I going to do?"
"Well, let me think here", and now he sounded sarcastic again, "participate in the discussion for example? I thought you wanted to learn, Thomas."
"I don't participate, I already told you that."
"And I already told you that you will in my class- or there are going to be consequences."
Consequences- whatthefuck?
He let out a small laugh, "so you are going to force me now to talk to the other idiots? Not going to happen."
"You might change your mind once you know what the consequences are, Thomas."
He rolled his eyes, "I know what you are trying to do here, Professor- making me quit this class on my own. I won't do that, though. You cannot get rid of me that easily- not again."
Not like when you dumped me at that goddamn school and left.
"All I want to know is what you are really doing here, Thomas. As I told you, I do not believe that this is a coincidence- the Dark Lord, getting a college degree? It's laughable."
His face started to burn like he had been slapped, "I don't owe you any fucking explanations, Gryffindor!", he hissed, his tone hostile, "and by the way, nice try with that fucking timeline- I have better self-control than that."
"Do you, Thomas?", his voice had gotten soft, and Tom suddenly wished he had not said that, "well, I think we should give that a little test- your punishment for not paying attention in my class."
"You are really going to give me detention now for not answering your ridiculous question about the Unforgivable Spells? That's laughable."
"Who is saying I am giving you detention? I have something a lot more…creative in mind for you. Follow me, Thomas."
He did not want to, but he was not going to appear weak in front of Godric bloody Gryffindor, and if it was the last thing he was doing. He got up without another word, not wanting to give the Founder any kind of satisfaction by asking what he was going to do to him, even though he desperately wanted to know.
Gryffindor led him to the small closet attached to the classroom, it was a tiny room with bookshelves full of books and materials for class, a small couch, and a small desk crammed in a corner. There was one window which was small as well, but big enough to light up the room.
"Let's see how much self-control you really have, Thomas", it sounded sardonic, and then Gryffindor went over to one of the bookshelves, taking out two thick books that looked like dictionaries, "you are going to kneel, and you are going to stretch out both your arms."
"You…you can't be serious."
"Already giving up, Thomas?", he was smiling at him now, "you know, I could just go to Professor Hastings and tell him that you…"
"Blackmail- how fucking creative", he snarled, dropping to his knees, "now what?"
I am kneeling for Gryffindor- screw me.
"Hold your arms up straight- all the way, just like that", Gryffindor sounded like he was enjoying this, and Tom felt the urge to spit in his face.
Fucking bastard.
"Your task is very simple- simple enough for even you to understand", he put the two books down right in front of him, "you are going to pick up these books, taking one in each hand, and then you are going to hold them, keeping your arms straight. Do you understand that?"
"I am not an idiot", he grabbed the books, which were even heavier than they looked, and as soon as he held them, extending his arms, he realized with growing horror what Gryffindor's punishment was really about.
I cannot win this.
Gryffindor kept watching him, and when he saw his face turning pale, he smiled, "you understand now, do you, Thomas?"
He bit his lips, trying to ignore the fact that his knees already started to burn.
"Now, here is how this is going to work- for every question you are refusing to answer me, I am going to add another minute. If you give up, you acknowledge that you do not have any self-control, which means you are going to get suspended for three days."
There is no way I can hold this position for longer than a few minutes.
He closed his eyes, knowing very well that being suspended not only meant he would not be allowed in Gryffindor's class for that time period, but in no classes- he would not even be allowed on campus.
Three days without being able to attend college, without the library, without his books, and everyone would know, and how Sean would gloat…damn Gryffindor, damn him! He knew it would be useless to protest if Gryffindor really suspended him, they had all seen him be disrespectful in his class, and if Gryffindor stated he had been rude at detention, Hastings would believe him over him- anyone would believe Gryffindor over him.
"Let's go ahead, shall we?", his tone was conversational, like he was not making him kneel in a fucking closet holding two of the heaviest fucking books in the world in his stretched out arms.
"Where are you living now, Thomas?"
"Under London Bridge."
"That's one- why did you ran away from St. Francis?"
"The food was too exquisite for my taste."
"That's two- where is Pettigrew?"
"Somewhere. Anywhere, really."
Gryffindor crouched down right in front of him, holding his gaze, "that's three now, Thomas- do you really want to keep going? Your hands are already trembling, and your knees must be getting pretty sore now, hmm?"
You have no idea- this is agony.
"Was that another question? Because I have an answer for that one."
Gryffindor smiled at him, seemingly amused, "no, that was not a question- but I have another one for you."
He bit his lips, sweat forming on his back. His whole body was aching already, the position more than uncomfortable. The weight of the books did not only agonize his hands, but also his arms, shoulders, and neck, and pushed his knees even more into the hardwood floor.
"Why are you here, Thomas? Why are you attending college?"
His lips started to bleed from him biting them too hard in an attempt not to cry out in pain, "I…I already told you that. I am here to learn."
"That's four."
He forced back the tears. His whole body was aching and sore, the muscles in his arm screaming to be released from holding up the books.
"One more question."
No, please no more!
"What would have been your answer, Thomas? At the debate?"
I would have said the Imperio is the most destructive one.
"I don't know."
"That's five", Gryffindor sounded completely calm, getting back up, "five minutes for you, Thomas- and you better keep your arms all the way stretched out."
Five minutes- he could have said five hundred minutes, it would not have made a difference because there was no way he was going to be able to hold these books up for longer than maybe another minute.
He tried to adjust his position, and the burning pain shooting through his body now made him cry out loud, "fuuuuck! Fuck, this hurts, it hurts!"
Gryffindor, who was sitting on the small couch now, flipping through a magazine, barely looked up, "you have four more minutes, Thomas- unless you are finally willing to answer some of my questions."
He did not reply, he was too busy screaming, his whole body now feeling like it was on fire. His knees had started to bleed, and his arms were shaking so hard it was a fucking miracle he had not dropped the books yet, and it hurt…it hurt so damn much…
He did not realize he was crying until he felt the wetness on his face.
"Three minutes."
He sobbed, hating, hating, hating Gryffindor for doing this to him and being so damn casual about it, like he spent every morning torturing him in this goddamn closet, and then one of his arms slightly dropped, and Tom started to howl in agony when Gryffindor calmly walked over to him, forcing his arm up again, "no! Please! Please!", his screams got even louder when Gryffindor slowly pushed his head down, pain exploding in his neck.
I am in hell. This is hell.
"Two minutes, boy", Gryffindor's voice was surprisingly soft, "two minutes and you can be done."
"I…please…", he sounded hoarse from screaming so much, and even though he hated himself for it, he started to blurt out what he had not wanted to tell him- the answer to question five, "the…Imperio, I would have picked the fucking Imperio!"
He could hear Gryffindor chuckle, and then he felt his hand in his hair, caressing it, only for a couple of seconds though- or maybe he had just imagined the whole thing, "and why is that, Thomas?"
"The…Imperio forces you to destruct someone else and yourself, while the…the Crucio and the Avada only destruct one person at a time", he pressed out through clenched teeth, his face damp with sweat, "for example…using the Imperio on someone and…making them…betray a person…they love, destructs…them both."
"All done, Thomas."
He instantly crashed to the floor, too relieved to even care what he looked like now, sprawled onto the ground in this damn closet with his bloody knees, his sweaty clothes, and his still trembling, ripped hands. He was breathing heavily, and breathing took all his attention right now, all his focus.
It's over, it's over, it's over…
"Yes, it's over", Gryffindor sounded amused and very far away, and he then realized that he had said that out loud, but he was too far gone to even care anymore.
"Open up, big boy", something was being pressed to his cracked, bloody lips, and he opened his mouth without thinking about it, accepting whatever Gryffindor was forcing him to swallow now, and he swallowed greedily, his mouth dry, which caused him to cough.
"That…what?"
"It's called water, Thomas", Gryffindor still sounded amused, "can you sit up?"
"Can…try", he coughed again, his body instantly rebelling when he did sit up, but the agony had already turned into some aching, burning pain, a constant reminder of what Gryffindor had made him do.
He refused to look at the Founder once he was standing again, even though technically, he had won this battle.
There was a silence.
"You'll find the homework for tomorrow in your curriculum on page five", Gryffindor now said, "I am expecting at least eight pages- anything less than that will result in consequences. Do you understand me, Thomas?"
If I don't do what you say, you torture me some more. Got it.
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Professor", his voice was quiet, and he was still staring at the floor, wondering how in hell he was supposed to write with his right hand after what just happened.
"You may leave, Thomas."
He did not need to be told twice, immediately turning around, until Gryffindor's voice stopped him again, "interesting answer by the way- what you said about the Imperio."
"Interesting meaning it was correct?"
"Interesting meaning it wasn't incorrect."
Even though his whole body was still hurting, Tom had to smile. He knew this was the closest he would ever get to Gryffindor telling him he had done something right, and it shouldn't matter, it really shouldn't- but for some reason, it did.
Probably the same reason why he dragged himself out of bed later that day, starting to work on the assignment. His hand was burning with every letter he wrote, and by the time he had finished page one, he knew he would need some help. Help arrived in the form of a bottle of Firewhiskey, which numbed the pain, and he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, until he finally saw stars dancing in front of his eyes. He stumbled over back to his bed, and once his head had touched the pillow, he was asleep.
"…ster?"
"…aster?"
"Master?"
Tom groaned, "what…what's…going on?", he blinked groggily, "what…time…"
"It's almost ten, Master", Peter sounded disapproving, "I was hoping we could get some work…"
"Fuck, I have class!", Tom cursed loudly, trying to scramble out of bed, "fucking shit, it's starting in like fifteen minutes, there's no way I am going to be there in time!", he hurried to put his shoes on, there was no time for a shower or to brush his teeth or even comb his tousled hair, and then his gaze fell on the papers on the floor- most of them stained with little spots of Firewhiskey.
Great. Gryffindor's gonna give me hell for that again.
He didn't have time to organize his paper or put anything in order, he just grabbed everything, stuffed it into his satchel and ran out the door. Luckily, he got the bus just in time, and after he sank into a seat, breathing hard, he hastily started to organize the mess that was the homework for Gryffindor. He had just finished putting it in order when the bus stopped at his exit, and then he started to run again, knowing very well he was not going to make it in time.
The door to Gryffindor's classroom was closed.
Shit. Shit!
He ended up standing in front of the door for several seconds, silently debating what to do. Gryffindor was going to be angry either way, so…
He knocked, and then he slowly opened the door, entering the classroom. As if on cue, everyone was staring at him, and he bit his lips, suddenly wishing he had done something about his appearance- he knew he looked like he had slept in his clothes, and he probably smelled like a bar after drinking half a bottle of whiskey last night.
"Samoal, how nice of you to join us", Gryffindor's tone was pure venom, "is there any reason why you could not be bothered to be on time for today's class?"
There was a silence.
"I…I overslept, I did not mean to…"
"You overslept", Gryffindor interrupted him, dragging out the last word, "do you not own a clock? A watch? A bell?"
Someone was snickering, and Tom's face flushed, "it won't happen again", he mumbled, trying to get to his seat, but Gryffindor's voice stopped him, "you are right about that- it won't. Class, open your book on page 82, and answer questions five to nine. I am going to collect your work when I return. Sean, I am leaving you to be in charge of this class."
Sean jumped up, a delighted look on his face, "thank you, Professor, I won't disappoint you, Professor!"
"I know you won't, Sean", he was looking Tom straight in the eyes now, and he felt his stomach clenching.
Yeah, not like me, right?
And why the hell did that even bother him so much?
"Let's go, Samoal", Gryffindor opened the door, grabbing him by the arm, and seconds later, they were out in the hallway again, the door clicking shut behind them. The Founder did not bother to explain what he was going to do to him, he just kept dragging him down the corridor, and Tom was more than glad that at the moment no one was there to see him getting humiliated like that. Eventually, Gryffindor stopped in a small bathroom, locking the door behind them.
"I…what are you…", he howled when Gryffindor wordlessly lifted his hand, slapping him hard across the face, "I have no idea what kind of game you are playing here, Thomas, but how dare you to show up for my class in such a disheveled, sloppy state- disrespecting me like that."
"It was no…"
"Did I give you permission to speak, boy?", and now he sounded dangerous, and Tom swallowed, staring at the ground.
"You might think it is hilarious to throw your absolute disregard for any kind of rules or courtesy into my face like that, but it is not- and I can promise you, after I am done with you, you will not even dare to button your shirt the wrong way", and then he dragged him over to the sink, turning on the water- the cold water- and letting it fill up the sink, "this should cure your little hangover nicely, Thomas."
"Wha…mmmpppp!MMMPPPMMM!", he instantly started to struggle as soon as Gryffindor had pushed his head into the sink, the icy water burning on his skin, "MMMPP!"
Stop! Stoooop!
The water was pricking him like needles, and he could not breathe…not breathe…
Hurts, hurts, stop! STOP!
"You will learn, Thomas- one way or the other", he lifted him back up, and Tom desperately gasped for air, his face red from the icy water, "rgg…you…st…stop…"
"I do not believe that was an apology, Thomas", and then he forced his head into the sink again, and he was kicking and struggling and trying everything he could do get away from Gryffindor's unforgiving grip, but he was just a boy, a kid, and no match for the Founder.
"Up you get, big boy", he pulled him up again, and Tom coughed, spitting out some water, "ple…please…"
"My little lesson already seems to be working- it is clearly teaching you some manners, Thomas", he sounded amused, and Tom made a sound between a groan and a cry of fury, and Gryffindor had to laugh, "still defiant then, hmm? Good thing I've got a lot of time, Thomas", and then he pushed him under water for the third time, and it hurt even worse, his skin already sensitive and raw.
You bastard! STOP! Fucking stooooop!
Gryffindor held the struggling boy tight until he could feel his panic kicking in, and then he let him back up, loosening his grip.
Tom immediately crumbled to the floor, gasping and sobbing, his face wet from the water and the tears that were streaming down his face. Everything was soaked, and he had never felt more miserable and small than now, squatted in a corner of a bathroom after having been forced to endure another one of Gryffindor's punishments.
The Founder crouched down in front of him, grabbing his chin, effectively forcing him to look him in the eyes, "apologize", it sounded calm, like he had not almost drowned him in a fucking sink, and Tom let out an angry sob, trying to escape Gryffindor's grasp, but again, there was no way out.
Fucking bastard.
"I…I am…sor…sorry", he eventually croaked out, "won't…happen again."
You'll regret this, Gryffindor.
"Good boy", and then the strangest thing happened, he felt a hand in his wet, tousled hair again, caressing it- briefly, very briefly, but also very…softly. But then the hand disappeared like it had never happened, and Gryffindor got up, "you are dismissed for today, Thomas. Did you do your homework?"
"I…I did", but then he remembered what his homework looked like, the messy, crumbled pages full of whiskey stains, not even put together in a folder, and he could feel the tears welling up in his eyes again.
He's going to punish me again when he sees that mess.
"Hand it to me, Thomas."
"I…it's actually not that good, just a bunch of scribbled stuff, it's more an outline, it…"
"Hand it to me. Do not make me ask you again."
Tom had no energy left to protest anymore, he was cold, and wet, and sore, and hungry, and still a little hangover- even though the water had helped- and he wanted nothing more than just curl into his bed with Quilliam Shakespeare and forget he'd ever met Gryffindor. Therefore, he scooted over to his satchel, opened it, and then he slowly got up, holding out the papers, "that's…that's my…homework."
He had expected to be punished for it, so it did not come to a surprise when Gryffindor slapped him again, the contact of his hand with his raw, cold skin pure agony, "you call this your homework, Thomas?", he sounded furious, "and you really have the audacity to tell me you are here to learn something?"
Tom bit his lips, hard, not bothering to respond.
There was a silence, the only sound coming from the sink gurgling behind them.
"You may go, Thomas", Gryffindor eventually said, "I'll see you in class in two days."
I wish I didn't have to see you ever again, asshole.
He shouldered his satchel, turning for the door. He was done. He would make a plan how to pay Gryffindor back for all of this because if he thought that this was how he'd let him treat him from now on, he was out of his mind.
That same night, while Tom was passed out in his bed after he had emptied the bottle of Firewhiskey, snuggling into Quilliam, Godric sat in the living room by the fireplace, correcting the assignments, occasionally taking a sip of his tea. Salazar was sitting opposite of him, reading the Daily Prophet.
"Are you almost done, love?", he now asked, glancing up from the newspaper.
"I am…after I read Thomas' sad little attempt of homework", he held up the papers, a look of disgust on his face, "the whole thing smells like he poured a bottle of whiskey over it."
Salazar chuckled, "is it that bad? So he is really using the college persona as a cover?"
He got no answer.
Godric was staring at the paper now like it had turned into a frog before his very own eyes, and then he stared some more, and he shook his head, and ten minutes later, he groaned, covering his face with his hands.
"Even worse than you thought?", Salazar guessed, frowning, "I am sure the boy just needs some help to understand how…"
Godric let out a small laugh, "he might need help- but not with his homework. His paper is nothing more than absolutely brilliant."
And how the hell did you even do that, Thomas? What are you not telling me, boy?
there will be tons of H/C in the next chap, I promise ;) aaaand some spanking as well :D
I would love love love some feedback! Thank you all for being awesome!
xoxo,
Antonie :)