The Tenth Rule

Chapter 17



Professor Snape, possessed the strict, guarded self-control and formidable inner discipline that can only be achieved by the older man. His actions and plans were always meticulously precise, carefully thought through and very rarely did he act on impulse. Along with his enviable ability to organise and compartmentalise his mind, he had pushed the girls from his thoughts temporarily - even the extreme pleasure he’d derived from his sexual torture of Alice earlier was locked away - whilst he busied himself with his work. Now that his work was done, and time was his own, he finally allowed himself to indulge in thoughts of them. He felt the flames of anticipation licking at his insides at his imminent questioning of Miss Beddows.



He had been preoccupied with Alice Pearson recently, and for good reason. Out of the two girls, she was the more innocent - they were both virgins, but she did not have the same sexual imagination as Bethany. She did not see the innuendo that Bethany could sharply pick out, neither was she quick to see the sexual side of harmless situations. Alice had more room for corruption, whereas Bethany had that glimmer in her eye that suggested otherwise. More importantly, Bethany was aware of her sexuality - Alice was not.



Snape was fully aware that a lot of Bethany's precocious nature was a front. He was surprised at her erotic display - however forced - for him. Her imagination was fertile, but he had not quite expected her to act upon it. He had a feeling that she was the less experienced of the two - the experience itself may have been something as trivial as a kiss, but it counted nevertheless. Bethany had a more earthy, raw sensuality, whereas Alice was more delicate, fragile. He had a feeling that the boys of Hogwarts were becoming quite accustomed to sexually forward girls - Alice would be a refreshing change for them, if they bothered to make an effort.



Snape inhaled deeply and ran his eyes over Bethany's essay. It was actually quite impressive - for her, anyway. The effort practically screamed at him from the page - row after row of almost painfully neat handwriting, careful sentence structures, selected phrasing. He could not deny Bethany all her competencies. However this was not an English lesson, and a few elaborate sentences did not equate to a good essay on the questions of silverweed. She should have realised that by now.



It did not, however, surprise him to discover a handful of mistakes. What did irritate him was the fact they seemed so subjective. Was that four actually a nine? Was that a y or a g? Upon his earlier inspection of her essay, he had dismissed it as her neat handwriting slipping under pressure. But, when all other elements were taken into consideration, he wondered if her mistakes were deliberate.



Snape smiled sardonically to himself. His particular attention to Alice, particularly after Bethany's sacrifice and debasement for him, was obviously gnawing away at her. Bethany was now attempting to garner his attention through punishment - an ironic reflection of Alice's masochism that amused him greatly.



He was debating as to whether to voice his suspicions to Bethany when he heard a knock at the door. Had six o'clock come around that quickly? It seemed so.



His office as always was poorly illuminated. He preferred it that way. Darkness did not disturb him and the single candle flickering within the holder on his desk was more than enough illumination for him to work by. He found relaxation in the murkiness of the gloom of the cavernous room.



He remained seated behind his desk, his eye on the chair he had placed a fair distance away from it.



"Enter."



The door groaned heavily as it was pushed slowly open. Snape, with his ability to watch a person whilst looking otherwise preoccupied, shuffled the papers before him whilst sneaking glances at Bethany as she appeared beyond the door.



Any sexual bravado that she may have displayed up until now had disappeared in the seconds of entering the room. She closed the door behind her; a shadow of a wince on her face as it closed. Her footsteps were inconsistent and uncertain, and her eyes swept across the large room that was swallowed in overwhelming darkness as she searched for a focal point. Her vision latched onto the chair, just within the pool of poor golden light from the candle’s flame that wavered upon his desk.



"Sit down in that chair, Miss Beddows. Your punctuality is noted."



Though his voice was firm, this small morsel of praise was like a flash of gold to Bethany. She was so starved of Snape's attention that the fact that he was speaking to her, let alone praising her, was wonderful. She was so busy basking in the momentary glory that she did not acknowledge the fact that she was in exactly the same position as before. She sat primly, demurely. Underneath her robe she wore a plaster upon the practically healed wound, a subconscious reminder toselfself. And perhaps even to Snape.



The fact was not lost on the professor. As she sat down, her robe shifted over her knee, and he caught sight of the flesh-coloured square on her knee. He contained his smirk - it looked almost fetishist to him. He could see she was afraid - her posture was rigid and tight, a slight tension about her eyes, and she was chewing on her lower lip.



Her lips. Was there not something different about them? Snape focussed upon her face. Her eyes seemed darker, framed by blackened eyelashes. Her lips were tinged pink and shinier than usual, and was that perfume he could smell upon her? He was disappointed and annoyed by this. During detentions, he had taken pleasure in the scents of both girls - once past the smell of their clothes, and the plain deodorants they wore, he could detect the subtle smell of their skin, and enjoyed it, it had pleasured him. Now she had taken that from him, and at the same time possibly drawn attention to herself by making herself up to see him. This was the third time she had angered him this afternoon.



Snape interlaced his fingers in front of him on the desk.



"I presume your friend Miss Pearson informed you why you are here?"



Bethany cleared her throat as if she were planning a speech.



"Yes Sir. She said you wanted to see me about my essay."



"Indeed. If nothing else she makes a reliabesseessenger."



He delighted inwardly at Bethany's jealousy. Her eyes glazed slightly, her posture tightening once more, before she controlled herself and resumed a comparatively relaxed position. Her fingers were loosely twined in her lap, and she stretched them periodically.



Snape rose smoothly to his feet, but Bethany still started. Her nerves were tightly twisted, and it set her senses on edge. His footsteps echoed about the room as he stepped slowly to the front of the desk, robes moving gracefully with him. Bethany heard the slight flutter of paper as he reached forward for her essay.



"Miss Beddows, at first glance this essay appears quite adequate, even by your standards. You have noted all the required facts and statistics, and the presentation is satisfactory. Clearly separating you from Miss Pearson proved to be a productive decision."



He took one step forward, and Bethany felt the need to shuffle the chair backwards. Any former confidence she’d had whilst in her dorm getting ready for this had fled her, and she felt totally helpless from its desertion.



"However, it does not come without its mistakes. I realise that your academic achievements are quite unremarkable Miss Beddows, and mistakes are at oft of the learning process. I have never marked an essay that is not without its errors." Professor Snape's unblinking fathomless black eyes held Bethany’s in a chilling stare as he addressed her.



"Nevertheless, most mistakes are very black and white. They are genuine errors of judgement, or perhaps a lapsed memory. Your mistakes are numerical and grammatical, Miss Beddows. The most deliberate kind."



At the word "deliberate," Bethany flushed a brilliant scarlet and looked down at her hands in her lap. Trepidation and arousal rose within her in equal measure, and she shifted her weight about on her seat.



"I could list your shortcomings to prove my point, but I do not have the time nor the inclination. One thing I can say for you, however, is that spelling was never a weak spot of yours. It seems odd how you should develop a sudden inadequacy for it."



Bethany swwed,wed, her throat suddenly dry. Fear had overcome her excitement momentarily and she strained to stay focussed. She glanced up at him as he towered above her.



"Sir, I…"



"Stand up, Miss Beddows, and come close enough to read the essay."



Bethany gripped the sides of the chair, using the tension in her forearms to propel herself upright. She blinked and inhaled deeply, and concentrated hard on putting one foot in front of the other. The letters and numbers upon her essay became gradually clearer as she moved closer, but her eyes soon travelled beyond the paper. She was not particularly short, but there was no way she could be eye-level with Snape. The top of her head barely level with his shoulders, all she could see of him was black, black and more black, the only disruption being the white of his collar and cuffs.



"Very well," he murmured, as if in thought, enjoying the close proximity of the girl yet repulsed by the cheap perfume that came up in wafts from her hair. "Now, tell me," his voice bolder now, "halfway down the page - tell me what number that is."



Bethany squinted, her stomach taut. It took her moments to stop registering such nearness to him was electric, the fact he smelt so good, of warmed spices and to stop herself staring at his thumb on the sheet of paper that he held before her, noting how clean and perfectly trimmed the nail was. Forcing herself to concentrate on what she had been asked to do, she looked at the paper and began to read…she had known the answer at the time of writing the essay, but she was so preoccupied with making the mistake look innocuous that she could no longer remember what it was - it seemed her efforts were wasted in trying to make it casual.



"I think it's a…four, Sir."



The essay was suddenly snapped from before her eyes and slammed onto the desk. Bethany glanced up momentarily, and she saw the anger glowing in Snape's eyes. She subconsciously took one step backward.



"You think, Miss Beddows? You mean you do not know, not only the answer, but what you thought was the answer? Surely something is quite amiss."



Bethany's mouth fell open, eyes wide. To Snape she looked young, frightened, and deliciously vulnerable.



"Never before have I met someone canncannot remember not only a correct answer, but what they thought was correct, too. Your handwriting is neat, Miss Beddows, it seems completely out of character for you to suddenly resort to moments of intermittent childish scrawl throughout this paper. It is normally a trait of yours to leave unknown answers blank. Why should you suddenly acquire a new habit, a habit that makes it deliberately difficult for me to mark your work?"



Her silence gave Snape the opportunity to drive his point irretrievably home.



"Most probably it is a deliberate mistake, Miss Beddows? An attempt at goading me? A precocious, presumptuous attempt to get my attention?"



Bethany felt as though she were on the edge of tears. Her carefully constructed plan blown out of the water by Snape's cold, cruel eye. He could see right through her the entire time, and he let her do it. What kind of man was he to do this to her? And why was she so foolish to do this?



Because I wanted his attention she reminded herself.



This time, her silence went on for too long. She had to speak.



"Professor Snape, it wasn't deliberate. I've had a lot of work recently, and I-"



"Miss Beddows, please do not insult my intelligence!" He interrupted, his voice barely above a whisper and numbing in its freezing delivery. "Can't you see that it is abundantly clear to me what your plan of action is? Your work is deliberately appalling to instigate this meeting, you arrive in my office with amateurishly applied make-up and reeking of cheap perfume. You have displayed to me before that you harbour sexual desires - desires that you are so wantonly desperate to satisfy that you have willingly abused yourself before me, your authority figure. Your intentions are contemptuously obvious, and this silly little ploy has cost you and your house dearly. 50 points from Ravenclaw for your foolishness.”



Bethany willed him to be silent. Every word stabbed painfully within. Her shame was surging inside her and she trembled with the fear of not being able to control it. Yet despite this, for some unexplained reason, she focussed upon his slightly pursed lips as he spoke and wondered how it would feel to kiss him.



"Your behaviour follows a pattern that does not bear thinking about at such a young age," he snarled, "and nd ind it quite-"



He was interrupted by the young, trembling Bethany Beddows suddenly stepping forwards to press her lips against his.