Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

It sank into my lungs. I could smell them; through my nose, down my throat, absorbed by my alveoli into my capillaries. The stench of sweat and sex, sucked into my bloodstream. He was between her legs, rutting at her, and she responded with loud moans of approval. I couldn't be angry with them; I wanted to. Anger would be liberating, give me release. But instead a strangling sort of sadness seized hold of my stomach.

"Severus?" the woman panicked.

Professor Severus Snape was too preoccupied to pay much heed to the atypical vocalisations of his lover and only managed a grumbled "what?"

The initial panic that tinged Aurora Sinistra's voice had fled and was now replaced with a smug sort of look.

"Oh Severus," she moaned loudly.

I should have left, should have left him and all the pain and disappointment he caused me. But I didn't. Because somewhere, deep within me, in places so dark I didn't even care to think about, let alone dwell, there was a perverse sort of fascination that rooted me to the spot; that perhaps I deserved it, in a way. I had sinned, fornicated, fucked a professor. It was too perfect, the retribution. It was my fault. I didn’t do enough, didn’t want him enough, didn’t submit enough. There was something about me, I surmised, that initially fascinated people and then repulsed them. I was unlovable; unlovable but not spineless.

"I only slept with you to get back at my parents." Severus froze, turned slowly around. "I was reminded that night—that I was promised to someone—and I... I fucked you as a big fuck you to them."

"Evelyn—"

"Don't you dare say my name. I hate you." I sounded like a child whose toy had been snatched away from him, like a silly little schoolgirl that dallied with a professor and was now going to pay the price.

Severus, still sheathed in his lover, laughed a cruel, vicious cackle. His face became monstrous, grotesque. Mouth split wide, the vocalisations forced out, as he resumed his rutting at the witch. Sinistra howled with him, a harpy, teeth gleaming. Their laughs turned to shrieks, wailing mania, screams of ecstasy and hysteria. I pressed my hands over my ears, but that did nothing to stop the sonic agony that made my brain rattle. Everything went black.

--/--

"Evelyn." Severus was shaking my shoulders. "Evelyn, wake up."

"Get off of me," I sobbed, bolting upright, pulling my shoulders out of his grasp.

"What are you talking about? You're feverish, soaked." He pressed his hand to my forehead and peeled some of the sheets off of me.

"I... You and Sinistra! And you were..." I suddenly became intensely dizzy and fell back onto the mattress.

"It was a dream," Severus drawled in a soothing tone. He pushed my fringe off my damp brow and sunk down next to me. Tears still leaked from my eyes and, try as I might, I couldn't stop them. I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, trying to hide; I could feel my shoulders quivering, and I hiccoughed before clearing my throat.

"Evelyn Harper, what am I going to do with you?"

"Oh, I hardly know," I whimpered, rolling onto my back. "I'm sorry, Severus. I... had a dreadful dream. It was atrocious."

I said his name. It was subconscious, the utterance; I never surmised that I would ever be comfortable calling him Severus, but I was. At least, I didn't feel the need to beg for forgiveness and grovel at his feet.

"Yes, I deduced that from the wails of terror and your sad little whimpers."

His fingers traced under my ear and played with the wisps of hair at my temple. Soon they traced down my neck, under my chin, across my lips. I couldn't resist turning on my side and resting my cheek on his shoulder. I shut my eyes and smiled slightly as Severus traced circles and figure eights along my spine. Why did he do this to me? It would be so much easier if he didn’t care. I could cope with indifference, but these small considerations, these insignificant acts of unaffected kindness, they confounded me. I tried not to let them concern me, but they only endeared him to me more.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Nnn—"

He placed a steady hand on my back as I coughed and spluttered.

"You needn't share, Evelyn," he muttered, pulling me back onto the mattress.

I couldn't bear the thought of him confirming my suspicion that he really was carrying on with Sinistra. I recalled the night on the Astronomy Tower, the way she looked at him, talked to him, slunk towards him. But what I feared the most, what make me feel sick and unsure about my place in this man's life, was the fact that I had no right to be angry or upset. He never promised his fidelity, never said that this was in any way exclusive. I entered this relationship with no stipulations or precepts and was now left wondering exactly what this was. And because our relationship would end, sooner more likely than later, I would be the one to get hurt. But I was so weak, frightened, like a little bird easily devoured by the cat. I clung to him, let my tears dribble on his shoulder, allowed him to rub my back. It felt so good, so right, and for the first time in a long time, I felt complete. I never surmised that I would be the sort of girl who needed a man to feel whole—though that was trivialising the matter. I didn't need a man; I just needed someone to fill a void. And Severus, Severus Snape was the one to do it.

After a few more minutes of silence, I was forced to open my eyes by Severus’s incessant shifting on the mattress. Golden sunlight streamed in from a wide window, and I stretched languidly.

"What time is it?" I mumbled, wiping my eyes dry and breathing deeply in an attempt to regain my composure.

"Time for us to leave. You can stop skulking there on the stairs, Mona."

A mess of cropped hair popped up between the railing, and the witch grinning broadly. "Didn't want to interrupt anything."

"You were always a bit of a voyeur, weren’t you? Unfortunately, Evelyn and I must be off. Though I may be able to obliviate anyone who notices our absence, I'd really rather not."

"I have some coffee brewing downstairs, and I'll lend you some clothes, Evelyn, though I know Severus would prefer you devoid of any sort of barrier that would block him access."

Severus pulled on his clothing, and I sat there silently, observing his figure, which appeared to be near divine in the soft light. I loved his legs and his chest and the luscious blend of vitality and maturity he seemed to possess. He was so pale and eye-catching and very... sexy. Perhaps I was one of the few to think so. He certainly wasn't conventionally attractive, I knew that much, but when he was standing there, I couldn't help but sigh softly. He was so long, cold, with the most exquisite physiognomy I had ever known.

"I'll meet you downstairs, Miss Harper."

"All right."

Mona stayed behind. "Are slacks all right, Evelyn? I've never been a fan of skirts and the like, but I can always nick some from Vivian if you like. Though, they may be a bit short on you."

"Trousers should be perfect. Thank you so much, Mona, for everything."

"Of course, dear, and if you ever need anything, don't hesitate to write." She handed me her card.

"Mona's Mews." How clever.

"Come on, let's get you dressed."

The breakfast nook was done in a light, varnished wood, with granite countertops and brass handles on the cupboards. Vivian was chatting with Severus, occasionally winding a curl around her finger. She was also naked, which was disconcerting, but there was little I could do. I leaned over Severus's shoulder, pressed my lips against his ear, and murmured a soft good morning. I smirked at Vivian, and she scowled for a moment before tossing her hair and wiggling lewdly about. It was very tempting to return with some other sexualised attempt to win Severus's attention, but I frowned at the realisation of how childish the exchange was. I simply shrugged and trotted over to Mona, who was currently pouring a round of coffee for us all.

"Vivian, dear, move over a seat so Evelyn can be next to Severus."

"Why? Can't she just sit next to you?"

"Vivian, please, just do it."

"Fine," she huffed, loudly scraping the chair across the floor and throwing herself into the next.

"Thank you," I muttered, uncomfortable with the whole situation and eager to leave.

"She's so ill-behaved, Mona," Severus commented dryly, in reference to Vivian and her behaviour. "I would never let one of mine act that way."

"I think it's charming," she returned, stroking the chit's cherubic cheek.

"It's vulgar. I could... teach her some manners, if you'd like."

Both Vivian and I spluttered, spraying coffee back into our respective mugs.

"No," we both snapped in unison, though I barely got out the “n” before seizing up. Severus turned to me and glared; apparently my response was more objectionable that hers. The fact of the matter was, I couldn't take it. If he wanted to shag Sinistra, I supposed it was his right to do so; but Vivian, the brainless wonder? No, not if I had anything to do with it.

I am the one he was supposed to be—my God! My God, I am actually asking, no, insisting that I be the one he has over his knee. But it is only fair, really; he chose me, and I agreed, agreed to be dominated and controlled by him.

"Take your little slut and teach ‘er some manners." Vivian gave me a hard shove, and I stumbled to the floor.

"Vivian!" Mona chided to little effect. I sprang up from the ground and had my wand in the dolt's face within seconds.

"Evelyn, put that away," Severus demanded, as though I were some silly child he could boss about. If he was going to treat me like a child, I would oblige him and act like one. I put my wand away and slapped Vivian across the mouth.

"Harper!" Snape growled, but I didn't hear much after that. Vivian jumped at me, clawing, pulling at my hair. I pushed my fist into her soft stomach and rolled her onto her back. It was like something out of a bad pornographic film, I imagined; two girls clawing at each other, one naked and the other's top being pulled away. I felt a sharp tug on my collar and was soon on my feet. Snape wrapped his fingers around the nape of my neck and tossed Vivian over to Mona, who looked more amused than angry.

"We'll be back later in the evening to apologise, Mona."

"Severus, I'm sure they were just having fun; girls will be girls."

Severus obviously didn't think so and dragged me away.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed at Mona, who waved and offered me a sympathetic smile; I didn't want to even look at Vivian.

I didn't dare say anything on our way back. I knew him too well; no amount of pleading, grovelling, or apologising could get me out of this one. Though, perhaps if I played my cards right, I could lessen the severity of my punishment.

Instead of Apparating this time, we went by floo. Snape's grip on my wrist was tight, and I stifled a whimper. I was frightened by his anger, by the silent, simmering sort of rage that flashed in his eyes.

"My chambers," he enunciated as clearly as possible, casting some floo into the flame. I clenched my eyes shut and felt myself fall forward into the network.

We stepped out of the fireplace in his sitting room and he let go of my wrist.

"Go to the closet."

"Sorry, sir?" I added the honorific hastily, so as not to upset him further.

"The closet," he explained slowly, as though I was stupid, gesturing towards a narrow doorway near the entrance of his chambers.

I had the strongest urge to roll my eyes, but that, I was sure, would be deadly. Severus was removing his outer robes and rolling up his sleeves, which was never a good sign. I did as he instructed.

My mouth dropped open and shut with a dull click. It was horrifying... and sexual and arousing and electrifying, but horrible nonetheless. Instruments the likes of which I've never seen (I confess, I wasn't entirely innocent; I could name quite a few of them) were organised by function, size, and sheer dastardliness. I may have been exaggerating; for all I knew, what was in there was tame by some standards, but to my inexperienced eyes, they were the most dreadful things I had ever seen. I shut the door and threw a pleading gaze over to Snape.

"Please," I implored softly. "I'm sorry."

"Do not lie to me, Miss Harper," he hissed dangerously.

"I am sorry!" my voice was steadily rising in pitch and rate. "It was rude of me, and I... insulted Mona's hospitality."

He strode closer to me, and I pressed myself into the corner.

"She is Ms. Frémont to you. So what you are saying, Miss Harper, is that you knew what you were doing was wrong?"

What a predicament! I literally couldn't say "no" and anyway, it would've been a lie. Of course I knew it was rude, but I maintain the fact that she deserved it. Vivian pushed me first... but retaliating like that was equally childish. I always prized myself on the fact that I was above the juvenile behaviour of my peers, but... but for God's sake, did Severus really need to suggest that he “teach her some manners"? The implication of those words, combined with the memory of the dream, sent me over the edge.

"I knew it was wrong, Professor," I purred as contritely as I could manage. "But I was so angry—"

"Then perhaps I will teach you some self-control, along with a lesson about respect."

"I am respectful!" I chirped but then realised that this probably not the best time to be interjecting.

"Go to my classroom, lock the door, remove all of your clothing, and wait."

I nodded. "Yes, Professor." I waited for the door to his office to appear and, in that short interim, I saw Snape open the closet, survey its contents, and smile a most disconcerting smile. I fled from the room.

--/--

He was taking ages. I must have been there for an hour, moping about in the freezing room. I was shivering, teeth chattering, skin bumped. I was afraid to do anything that might upset him, that might provoke him further, and didn't dare snoop around. Instead, I sat myself in my usual seat and dug grooves in the wood with my fingernail.

The door swung open, and I gulped.

"Stand up, Miss Harper; let's not dally."

I sprang from my seat, spine straight, arms flat along my side. I heard a loud crack and jumped.

Severus dragged his hand across my shoulders and encircled my upper arm with his hand. He led me over to his desk, pressed the back of my thighs against the ledge of the table, and held up two switches. I could feel the blood drain from my face.

"You have a choice, Miss Harper. Ten with the heavier rattan or twenty with the thinner one.”

"Oh." I hardly knew which one to choose. How was I supposed to make an informed decision? I thought that perhaps the thicker one would hurt more and it was a bit knobby but twenty strokes seemed almost infeasible. "The thin one, I guess."

The smirk that spread across his face made me reconsider my decision, but there was little I could do.

"Interesting choice, Miss Harper. Now get into position. Quickly."

Arse thrust up, his fingers dabbing along the skin, stroking, caressing, shivers snaking up my spine. "You're freezing, Miss Harper; let's see if we can warm you up." The thin, flexible switch pressed into my flesh, tapped, pulled back.

The hissing was the worst; my stomach dropped at the sound of the evil thing whizzing through the air. I knew what was coming: the crack, the lull, the searing as the impulse finally connected with the cerebrum. I'm sure he looked lovely doing it too; torso twisting, form stretching gracefully up, a certain animation to his face.

I screamed the first time. I felt the switch connect, a millisecond passed, and then the most intense pain I had ever known. It was like a little lash of fire slicing along by bottom. But it wasn't the burn that I had known with his hand; more of a bite, an acute sort of crescent arcing across my derrière.

He snatched me up and pressed his palm across my mouth. "Be quiet." The rattan had fallen to the ground in his haste to silence me, and I had the strongest urge to snap it with my heel. Obviously, I didn't, as the punishment for that manoeuvre would be unfathomably painful. Snape, maintaining a tight seal on my mouth, cast a silencing shield on the room and triple-warded the doors. He pressed me over the desk again.

"You will count the strokes, Miss Harper. If you make a sound, I will start again. If you jump up, I will start again. If I feel as though the lesson hasn't sunk in, I will start again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Good."

This time I was prepared for it (as prepared as one could possibly be); clenched my teeth, bottom, toes, braced myself. It swung down, cutting through the air, and made contact with my flesh. I managed to choke on the shriek that tore up through my throat. I gasped a breath, held it for a moment, and then expelled it in little whispers.

"One, sir," I finally managed to mumble. I really didn't know how I was going to get through this. I wouldn't be able to restrain myself, eventually, and would cry out or flinch enough to restart the entire process. Perhaps I would pass out, and Severus would take mercy on me.

Mercy? The word isn't in his vocab—

"Fuck!" He surprised me with the cut, and I didn't have a chance to steel myself.

"Another five for the expletive, Miss Harper."

I was ready to bash my head against the desk. After two strokes, I was already ready to knock myself out. But... I convinced myself that I could do it. What choice did I have? Each crack, whistle of the switch as it carved through the air, I steeled myself, took it, counted it off. I cried, of course; a small pool of salty little tears gathering on the tabletop. It wasn't a good sort of hurt, though, not initially. I resented him for a few moments, hated him, and then loved him, in a way. How could I not? He cared for me in his own way... It was in the small things; he rubbed my back, as he struck, let his fingers stroke the skin. I could've been imagining it, I suppose, but I knew I wasn't imagining the small respite he gave me in between swipes. It may not seem like much to some, those not familiar with this sort of... exchange, but to me, it meant the world.

"Twenty five, sir." The syllables were breathed softly between sobs. God, it hurt; more than I had thought it would. He gently tugged me up from the table, and I cried against him for a good while. I had earned it, the catharsis. I didn’t often cry from an excess of emotion, but pain—that was another story.

"That hurt."

"Generally, it does." Severus's hand rested on the back on my head, before hovering just over my rear.

"Don't." I pressed even closer to him, trying to avoid the touch. Instead, I inadvertently rubbed against his hardened length, eliciting a groan. I swatted his hand away. "Behave yourself, Professor." I didn't mean though. I was aroused, anxious, slightly sick with a pulsing sort of want. I hadn't come to terms with it yet. Spankings were one thing; plenty of people consider that to be erotic. But a caning? I was struggling to rationalise that. But did I need to? Sex—this sort anyway—wasn't rational, I surmised.

"We'll put some salve on so it doesn’t scar. Wouldn't want to mar your lovely rump."

He was walking away from me when I blurted it out. "I was jealous of Vivian."

Severus stopped, spun on his heel, and crossed his arms over his chest. He had the most devious smirk settled on his mouth. "I know."

My cheeks grew very warm. "Oh."

"You weren't exactly subtle about it."

"Oh." This was becoming increasingly awkward, and I couldn't think of anything intelligent to respond with.

"I really thought you were going to murder her, Harper. Once you got her on her back..." He gazed off into the middle distance and chuckled.

"Ugh, pervert." I rolled my eyes before dropping them to the floor, stubbing my toe against the stone.

"Yes I can see you're green with envy." He tapped my nose, and I felt a begrudging smile play on my lips. “Now come along, we can work on your CV before going back to Mona’s." He pinched my bottom, and I resisted the urge to bash my knuckles into his large, hooked nose.