Pairing: Severus/Blaise.

Rating: NC-17.

Warnings: BDSM.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Characters owned by J.K. Rowling.

Summary: Harsh discipline for an unruly student.

There were spells in existence that could silence a person so that the screams they released couldn't be heard by any curious passer by -- it had been a common practice back when he had been an active Death Eater. However, Severus Snape had no wish to deprive him of this particular pleasure, so he opted for a sound-proofing charm over the whole of the room.

'I was informed that this was where Filch used to conduct his punishments,' Snape said leisurely as he led his student inside, one hand splayed on a thin shoulder. 'This practice is now forbidden, of course.' Snape's voice turned sibilant as he squeezed that shoulder, now naked. Between the door and the centre of the room, Snape had spelled the boy's clothes away. Pride came to wallow in the pit of his throat as he saw nary a flinch mar the exquisite boy's face. 'Kneel on the ground, bow your head and place your hands behind your back.'

He was not surprised when his order was swiftly obeyed. He kept his pride tucked deeply in himself as he strode to an old armoire. He opened the doors and perused the implements offered within. The cupboard was old but the instruments nestled inside were new and gleaming. Snape had replaced them two years prior.

'Your continued impertinence merits nothing but the most unpleasant of these,' he said casually as he brushed his fingertips over the various devices, his flesh prickling at the feel of them under his hand. He hesitated at the dagger. Pursing his lips, he went back and picked up a heavy leather strap. Embossed on its dark leather were rows of tiny metal snakes in lieu of studs. He smiled to himself and closed the armoire.

When he turned, his smile was already a private memory.

'Conventional means of punishment have all but taught you discipline, boy. Do you agree?'

The young man bowed his head. He was kneeling in the centre of the room, stripped of any comforting shadows or furniture as he lay alone in a sea of stained flagstones. There was nowhere he could hide his shame. Nowhere he could hide the flush in his cheeks. Nowhere he could lie quietly and die. 'Yes, sir,' he whispered.

Snape stopped behind his student, his knees touching the boy's jutting shoulder blades. Through his trousers, Snape could feel the heat radiating from him. 'Do you deserve this?' He dropped the strap unceremoniously on the floor in front of the boy. Snape watched as his instrument was looked at for a long moment.

'Yes, sir.'

'Why do you deserve it?'

'I've been unruly, sir.'

'Why?'

'For no reasons other than defiance, sir.'

The boy's voice was even, monotonous even, though Snape knew better. He could almost taste the quivering need vibrating on an invisible frequency. He could smell the desire coiling between those pressed thighs against the floor. 'Pick up the strap,' he said evenly.

Again, he was obeyed. The strap was picked up immediately and held between thin pale fingers in what Snape considered an almost reverent gesture. He smiled again, allowing himself this luxury as the boy could not see him. 'Why are you defiant in my class?' he asked. The smile was absent from his tone.

'I don't know, sir.' That voice wasn't so nonchalant anymore. The quiver had surfaced, though it was nearly lost in a ripple of insolence.

'You don't know. What a prudent response. Stand up and turn around,' Snape said, schooling his expression away. What remained was an unfeeling mask. The boy stood up and turned, the strap still in his hands and held outstretched between them. Snape made no move to acquire it just yet. 'Look at me.'

Snape felt his resolve fracture as those eyes connected with his. He knew that years of experience and training hadn't marred the callous look he offered the boy, though he was disturbed at the sudden need that stirred his belly. It became stronger with every session, it seemed. 'You deserve it,' he nodded fractionally.

The boy nodded too. 'Yes, sir.'

Lower, 'You want it.'

There was a long silence, heavy with hesitation. Snape knew enough to recognize it as deliberate uncertainty, a carefully designed apprehension that simply did not cut beneath the surface. He could see beyond the haunted eyes and the worrying of his lips and the shaking of his hands. Beyond that, there was an exposed desire, stripped of all pretences, such as the pretence that excused their presence here.

After a while, a barely concealed whisper reached Snape's ears. 'Yes, sir.'

Snape held out his palm.

The boy laid the strap across it. There was no mistaking the reverence now.

'Against the wall,' Snape hissed. He did not add any further instructions. The boy knew enough to spread himself against it, to cross his wrists above his head, to press his forehead against the cold stone and to spread his legs as wide as he could in order to remain balanced.

Snape watched the boy for a long moment, adding previously forgotten details to the mental canvas he kept for private moments, for those times in the seclusion of his bed when he fisted his cock and came with this half-finished painting haunting his thoughts. It would never be truly completed. Not in his mind, anyway. There was no way to recreate the sweat that gleamed along the boy's spine, or trickling down the slender sides from beneath his arms. There was no way to rebuild the scent of desire and debauchery clinging in the air, already heavy with trepidation.

There was no way to anticipate the words that spilled from that eager, young mouth, whispering, 'Please.' Sometimes it was 'now'. Occasionally it would be 'no'. Snape had stopped trying to predict such things. Had learned, instead, to enjoy the surprise.

'Please, what?'

'Please, sir.'

'Wrong answer.' Snape swung the strap at his side, approaching the body stretched against the wall. He never used anything so mundane as manacles or chains. He preferred to watch self-control at play. The deliberate restraint against the pain and the pleasure. Draco Malfoy hadn't survived the first night, whimpering uselessly against the wall and begging for it to stop. Snape hadn't brought him here after that and Draco continued to endure Snape's stifling disappointment.

He stopped a few inches behind the boy, feeling the heat of that young body stab through his robes. He inhaled soundlessly, his nostrils flaring and drawing in the invigorating musk of entreaty. 'I'm waiting,' he whispered, hovering the end of the strap over the slick spine, close enough that the down covering it could feel the cool leather.

'Please, sir -- I deserve it.' The words were wrenched amid a groan as the boy craned his neck back.

'You do, don't you,' Snape said with pursed lips, caressing the leather down the protruding spine, not quite touching it. He watched as the bones and muscles played beneath the pale skin, devoid of the scars he'd placed there repeatedly. 'I commend you on your choice of salves. Not a trace of my presence.' His voice was deliberately sceptical.

The boy's head moved slightly to the side until Snape could see an angular profile appear from a mane of black hair. He said nothing, but when Snape looked at his back again, he saw that a pattern of fine white scars was now visible. 'Glamour.' He spat the word like an insult. 'Should I take this as a display of teenage vanity?' Snape splayed his hand against the back, his fingers slipping against the wet skin. He could feel the trembling deep within. 'Answer me.'

'I have a life outside the dungeons, sir.' The firmness of the tone belied the trembling of the boy's body.

Snape curled his lips and slipped his hand up until his fingers were tangled in a mass of dark hair. He jerked back and whispered in a pale ear, 'Not when you're here, boy. You will remember to take off the glamour before you even think of stepping foot inside here. Am I understood?'

'Yes, sir,' the student said with a strangled voice.

Snape shoved the boy's head back against the wall. 'Count them,' he said, and before the student had the chance to get in a breath, Snape raised his arm and brought the lash down harshly against the pale back.

He was successful. The sharp leather bruised the skin. One of the many metallic snakes cut it in a fine wound, blood spraying back in a tight arc. Snape heard no sound coming from the boy for a long moment other than frantic breathing, and then ...

'One.'

Pride swelled, and Snape applied another stroke.

'Two.'

That voice, that luxurious voice, was steady and firm, betraying none of the emotion that played visibly across that arching body. Snape kept the injuries tightly controlled, and he cut the skin only at the surface. Still, by the time he was done, the boy's back had a fresh new lattice of crimson lines. He'd stopped counting at twenty six, though Snape hadn't punished him for it. He'd gone up to the requisite thirty before he slipped the bloody strap in his robes.

The boy's voice was ragged, strained, though he hadn't even screamed throughout the session. 'Thank you, sir,' he rasped.

Tracing the blood with his fingertips, Snape smiled when the youth's body shivered uncontrollably. His arms were straining to be kept up. Without a word, Snape brought his blood-stained fingers to the boy's mouth and smeared his life's essence on his pale lips. He turned his chin to him and Snape kissed him deeply, both tasting the blood they shared. 'I'm going to fuck you,' Snape breathed, and the first evidence of the boy's emotions surfaced at last. Snape swallowed down the eager moan. After the punishment, Snape could allow the boy's complete surrender. 'Do you deserve it?' he asked, a trace of amusement on his tone.

'You can sod off if you think I don't,' was the breathless reply.

It was the work of seconds for Snape to free his erection. He shoved his hand beneath the boy's face. 'This is the only lubrication you're getting. Make it good.' Snape felt the horrified gasp against his chest and he smirked as the boy bent his head down and lathered his hand for all he was worth. By the time he was sucking Snape's fingers, Snape had licked his free fingers and brushed them against the boy's tight entrance. 'In addition to removing the glamour, from now on you will also prepare yourself before coming here.'

The boy nodded, tendrils of spit connecting his mouth to Snape's hand as it retreated. Severus sighed and fisted his cock with slickness, letting his chin rest on the boy's shoulder. 'I've no interest in hurting you after I've shed your blood.'

'Considerate of you,' the boy hissed, the last word segueing into an abandoned wail as Snape eased himself inside. Snape grunted, splaying his hands against the wall on either side of the boy's head, and thrust in all the way.

'Oh gods.'

'In this instance, I must agree,' Snape said raggedly, lowering one hand to place across the slick arse, using his thumb and fingers to part the pale cheeks. He thrust inside again.

'Harder!'

'Hush.'

They both slumped against the wall, the boy groaning, the older man panting erratically. They rocked together, achieving new heights of violence as they crushed against each other with every momentum. The boy was certain he was bleeding, but no -- that was Snape, coming, so fast and so hard it was gushing out of him even as Snape fucked him harder still.

With each searing caress against his prostate, the boy wailed and dug his nails into the stone as he began to come, weeping as the pleasure and agony swelled inside him with each continuing thrust. 'Fuck!' he screamed. 'Yes!'

Snape wasn't quite so eloquent, though he muttered something -- it might have been a curse or an endearment -- under his breath. They lay against the wall for some time, breathing and trying to calm pounding hearts.

Then ...

'I'm hot.'

'You certainly are.'

The boy chuckled. 'Your-- robes. Severus, please. Get off.'

Reluctantly, Snape eased himself off the boy and smoothed over his cloak. 'I forget you're not the sort to enjoy afterglow.'

'Neither are you.'

'I wouldn't have minded sleeping against the wall, if you hadn't so rudely pushed me away. That's worth thirty more lashes, by the way.'

'Not today.'

'No, not today,' Snape agreed, slipping out his wand. 'Stand still.' With a flick of his wrist, the wounds closed and became a web of white scars. 'You've Potions in five minutes,' he smirked, as though that was the only reason they needed to stop.

'Shit!'

'Yes, indeed.'

'You could have told me,' he accused.

'I, Mr Zabini, am under no obligation to tell you anything.' Snape gave Blaise a warning look. 'Since you should know your timetable by now.'

Blaise smirked as he began to fasten his clothes.

Snape tucked himself away and fastened his button fly. 'Don't be late.'

Zabini chuckled and ran from the room, making certain that he didn't sling his bag over his shoulder and against his sensitive back. Although Snape was still in the room when he left, Blaise was absolutely certain that the Potions master would already be sitting at his pulpit by the time he arrived in class.

If he was late, it would mean another detention.

Blaise stopped running.

And smiled as he walked leisurely to his last class of the year.