Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

This could almost be considered a filler chapter in a way: short and there isn’t much progression of the plot. I would combine this chapter and the next, but they don’t fit together well, and I wouldn’t want to force it. Rest assured, next chapter is much more substantial.

LaBibliographe: Regarding Snape’s scars, I would assume that they would come with the territory. Being a Death Eater is in itself violent profession, and I imagine that scars—both physical and emotional—are unavoidable. Evelyn and Severus have a discussion about it later on, so more will be revealed then. Also, I had hoped to hint that the two had had somewhat of a relationship before getting together. Perhaps I should have introduced the idea sooner… Anyway, I meant to show that they were on somewhat familiar terms and that there was mutual sense respect between them. Snape’s propensity to drink himself into a stupor will be elaborated on this chapter.

--/--

Evelyn Harper was slumped over my toilet, vomiting profusely. It was a rather pathetic sight: she was clad only in my boots, love bites dotting her back, neck, and upper arms. A particularly ghastly contusion swelled on her shoulder blade, and I could see a distinct set of indentations where my teeth had left their mark. All in all, she looked as though she’d had a rough night.

“Fuck,” Harper groaned before heaving again.

“Language,” I warned her, a malicious smirk threatening to creep onto my face.

She turned to glare at me but looked relieved when she saw that I had a small vial clenched in my palm. Assuming that she would be able to keep it down, I offered her the potion and she downed it in one gulp.

Evelyn sprung up, wobbling precariously on unsteady legs; I attempted to catch her shoulders, but she shook me off. The witch turned her back to the mirror and craned her neck to look at all the welts and bruises.

“They hurt,” she moaned. I rolled my eyes. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pressing her against my chest and she tensed against me and heaved a disapproving sigh. I had my nose pressed against her hair—Harper always smelled so clean and fresh and sweet. She had such soft hair as well—

“Get off of me,” she grumbled in a very child-like manner. “I am going to the dormitories. I’m tired and have a horrible taste in my mouth and you will not make me drink again.”

“No?” I wouldn’t, of course. Watching her heave incessantly for half an hour wasn’t the way I had planned to start my day, but she hardly had any standing to boss me about like that. “I won’t?”

“Oh... I mean, you, erm, wouldn’t want me to. It was horrible; I never drink.”

“I’m not sure I like your tone, Miss Harper.”

I saw her jaw clench for a moment and her eyes shut momentarily; she seemed to have difficulty wrapping her mind around the concept of “do as you’re told.”

“Please, sir,” she began mockingly. “Professor, please don’t make me drink again."

"What am I going to do with you?"

Harper bit her bottom lip and shrugged.

"Should I have you over my knees?"

"No!" she snapped, before marching out of the bathroom.

I followed her, displeased with her response. "Should I fuck your hot little cunt?"

"What? No!" Harper was a struggling with her blouse, trying to match the buttons with their proper holes.

"How about your arse?" My crassness surprised and infuriated her.

"Never! You can go bugger some Knockturn Alley slut if you—"

That was it. I grabbed the witch's hips, bent her over the bed, effectively mashing her face into the sheets, and spread her cheeks. "If I want your arse, I will have it." She was struggling against me, but I wouldn't let up. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear, Miss Harper. Two nights ago—two very short night ago—you swore that you would obey me in all things. I have let your small rebellions slide, and now I've realised that was mistake. I could take you right here, Miss Harper, and I wouldn't feel guilty in the least. You promised me your unconditional acquiescence; I will hold you to it."

She was breathing heavily, lips puckered and cheek pressed against the mattress. "All right."

"What?" I hissed, pressing harder against her, asserting my dominance. She would obey me, whatever the cost.

"Yes, I—I will do whatever you want, sir."

I was suspicious of her sudden submission. "Really, Miss Harper? If I were to demand your arse, would you give it to me?"

"Yes, sir," she moaned softly.

"And if I were to give you a bottle of Firewhiskey and order you to drink, would you?"

It took her longer to respond this time, but eventually she did. "Yes."

I glanced down and groaned softly at the sight; my cock, nestled between her round, fleshy cheeks, the concave arch of her back, wisps of hair brushing her nape. I began to rock myself subtly against her, and the witch gasped, pressing herself desperately against me. Then the thought of her sick in my bathroom quelled all my lustful urges. I pulled back.

"You are a good girl, Miss Harper." I helped her off the bed, and she smoothed her hair down.

"Goodness, Professor. You make me sound like some sort of pet! Which I am not." She stared pointedly at me.

"No, Miss Harper, you are not my pet," I reassured her. "Sit."

She scowled at me. "May I please put some clothes on first?"

"Your robes," I instructed, pulling on a pair of trousers myself. I wanted to have a serious discussion with her and I didn't think us to be on intimate enough terms to do so without any clothing.

I walked briskly into the sitting room, settled myself in my favourite chair.

"Take a seat, Miss Harper; anywhere will suffice."

She set herself on the lounge and pulled her robes tightly around her, outlining her round, perky breasts. My eyes flicked up, and I saw a rather suspicious look playing on her features.

"What is it you wanted to talk about, Professor?"

"Miss Harper, I want you to trust me enough to do what I think is best for you. Do you?"

"Yes,” she replied hastily, not giving the question much thought.”

"Do you ever think things through, Miss Harper? Now, I will not make you drink again; you obviously cannot tolerate it. And as for buggery... we will talk about it when the time comes, so to speak." She looked unnerved but didn't protest my vague prediction. "Now to deal with your insolence—"

"What?"

"Did you really think that I was going to let those petulant protests go unpunished?"

"No, I suppose not."

“Harper, I have come to the conclusion that you should not be able to say 'no' to me.”

"Sorry—what?"

"I have been far too lenient in this matter. There is a spell, a relatively simple one, that will snip out ‘no’ from your vocabulary. If I ask you for something, all you will be able to respond with is a 'yes, Professor'."

"For how long?"

"Until you learn your lesson."

I could see the syllable dancing on her tongue, ready to burst forth from her pursed lips.

"I promise I’ll be good," she cooed.

"Do you think me stupid?" I barked. "No, my mind is made up. You can agree to this or you can leave."

She remained silent, eyes narrowed and mouth compressed in a grim line. "Oh, all right. But it will only be with you, right? I can still say no to other people."

"Yes, Miss Harper, you can say 'no' as much as you like to all the other unfortunate souls you encounter. The spell only applies to me because I’m the caster."

She was silent for a moment, absently biting a nail, nose twitching. “All right, Professor.”

I could sense her anxiety; the way her eyes darted here and there and her teeth nibbled on her lower lip. I stood up and marched back into the bedroom, Evelyn following close behind. I snatched up a carton off my writing desk and tapped it against my palm, knocking a few cigarettes loose. I placed one of them between my lips and snapped my fingers. A small flame sizzled at the tips and I carefully pinched the end of the cigarette and inhaled.

"Was that wandless magic? I've never actually seen it done. Could you teach me?"

"No. There's no way you could manage to do something as advanced as that. I'm embarrassed that you even asked."

"Well, I—"

I pressed the other fag between her lips and left it dangling there, wobbling uncertainly.

"Oh, I... really shouldn't," she mumbled, removing the intruder from her mouth.

"What?"

"I'm not saying 'no', but I really don't think—" I glared at her, daring her to continue. "I have so little self-control as it is, Professor, and a terrible oral fixation, which you know first-hand. It just wouldn't be prudent—"

"I will tell you what is prudent, Miss Harper: doing as I say. I am... sharing something with you, which is somewhat out of character, as I am sure you can imagine. I expect you to be grateful and not reject what I'm offering."

Evelyn sucked in her cheeks and rolled her water-green eyes. "All right," she conceded. I lit her cigarette for her, and she and I puffed along in silence. We stamped out the tabs in a dish and stared at each other.

I felt calmed, soothed, and composed, less agitated than. Fortunately, the dangers that this habit posed to Muggles were not as severe in wizards. Cancers, respiratory issues, all could be cured with a potion or spell; albeit a very complex series of potions and spells, but still curable. However, there was something shameful about it; it was a compulsion, a need, a filthy urge. Though I wouldn't admit it, the cigarettes had taken away some of the impeccable self-control I was notorious for. It was disconcerting... but in some sick, half-hidden way, it was thrilling; to lose control, to let go for once. There was some sort of power in it, this surge, charge, electrification and I relished those base moments when I indulged. But if I was going to indulge in front of Evelyn, she would have to join me. It was the same reason I had made her drink last night. I wouldn’t imbibe unless she did, lest it leave me in an inebriated state and her perfectly lucid. I had done that one before and learned my lesson, learned it well.

"Well, Professor. Are we going to do it or not? Sooner this happens, sooner I will ‘learn my lesson,’ I suppose.” Her voice was cold, detached; I wondered if she was spending too much time with me.

"Just a simple spell, Miss Harper; that's all. Perhaps you should get dressed first."

She shrugged and began to gather her discarded clothing. She used her wand to smooth her wrinkled trousers and blouse and slipped them on quickly, hand gesturing to and fro, fastening the buttons, sharpening the creases. Her wand was long and pale, much like the witch herself. She handled the rod as though it were an extension of her arm; flicking and flitting and swirling it around. It was the most gracefully I had seen her move.

"What sort of wand do you have, Miss Harper?"

"Yew with a dragon heartstring."

"An interesting combination."

Her lips curved slightly and she sucked the bottom one between her teeth. "And you?"

"Ebony and dragon heartstring."

"Yes, that seems appropriate. Ebony trees represent power and were often used as a means of protection against evil."

"You're just a wellspring of information, aren't you?" I sneered.

She paused for a moment. "Well let's just get it over with." Though she tried to remain cool and collected, I could sense the anxiety in her voice.

I beckoned her over and she stood straight as a board in front of me, spine stiff and shoulders thrust back. As a means of putting her at ease, I reached up my hand and brushed her glowing rosy cheek as I tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear.

She leaned softly into my hand and gently nuzzled it. Suddenly realising that such a motion might not be appreciated, Evelyn pulled back and looked away. "Sorry, sir."

I understood the gesture immediately. "Your parents weren't very affectionate, were they?" She shook her head no and sighed softly. Her mouth opened, as though to speak, but she remained silent. "Nor were mine."

I don't know why I volunteered that absolutely irrelevant—not to mention highly personal—bit of information; she didn't need to know anything about my past, particularly my childhood. But the comment had come out without any hesitation on my part. Evelyn would... understand, I supposed. And though I didn't need her empathy or support, I wanted to build up the trust that I had previously destroyed those weeks ago. By trusting her with something personal, I hoped she would be able to trust me as well.

I grasped her chin, steadying her head, and slowly slipped my wand into her mouth. Her eyes widened but she didn't struggle or try to expel it. Taking care not to scrape her tongue or soft pallet, I stopped just before I reached the back of her throat and muttered the incantation.

"Nullus nullus."

There was a whooshing noise, as though she was exhaling a little wisp of air, and Evelyn's hands flew to her throat. I removed my wand and set it gently on the desk. The witch massaged her neck, breathing deeply.

"Ask me something," she demanded.

"Sorry?"

"Ask me something."

Suddenly understanding that she wanted to test her new limits, I obliged. "Is the sky green?"

Evelyn's mouth opened before she gagged, eyes bulging slightly and throat spasming. She recovered quickly but was visibly shaken. "That was unpleasant," she snipped dryly.

"Do that enough and you'll end up sick as you were this morning. Evelyn..." She stared at me expectantly. "I'm not doing this to completely eliminate 'no' from your vocabulary, nor am I looking for an acquiescent drone that agrees with everything I say. I would just like you to think your responses through; lose some of that impulsive glibness that seems to pervade your speech."

She nodded. "You've done this before, sir. To another girl." It wasn't a question.

"I have." She was always so keenly discerning, so perceptive and sharp.

"And what were her feelings? After the little experiment was over."

"She was much more open-minded about trying new things."

"Did she like those things?"

"Yes."

"Who was she?"

This I would not divulge, and I sent Miss Evelyn Harper on her way. I had essays to mark and potions to test and, to be perfectly honest, I think that I had had enough of that witch to last me at least another couple of days.