Severus Snape stared with disbelief at Harry Potter. He was eleven years old. Eleven. Yet he had destroyed some form of Voldemort and gotten the philosopher's stone. Stupid boy. If he'd have gotten an adult maybe he wouldn't have gotten hurt. Harry had a broken wrist and many cuts and bruises. Although it was all healed up in a matter of seconds, he had caused so much worry. When Snape found out that he, and the Granger girl and ginger runt were gone, he'd nearly had a heart attack. Harry blinked. He was awake.

"Ah, Mister Potter." Snape drawled. "How are you feeling?"

Harry gave him a confused look. "Err..."

"Incapable of intelligent thought, as usual Mister Potter? Ah well, it makes no large difference. Now, answer me this: why did you not request a professor or an adult to accompany you, or even better go without you?"

"Err..."

"Answer me, Potter!"

"I thought I could handle it myself." He mumbled. "And I did."

"That is not the point. You could have died, Potter! And actions must have consequences..."

Snape sat down at the end of Harry's bed. "Get up, boy, and come here."

Harry obeyed: he didn't understand what was happening. He walked over to Snape.

"25 points points from Gryffindor, for a start. Now, bend over my knee."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me, Potter, over my knee!"

"Are you going to...are you going to...? But that's against the school rules!"

"I think you'll find you are mistaken, Potter. Though physical punishment is not common, it is used. Now, bend over!"

Harry stared with total astonishment at Snape. Growing impatient, the older man snapped,

"Bend over now, or I will not be so lenient!"

Nerves shooting through his body, Harry bent stiffly over the hard legs of the man in front of him.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Snape couldn't help feeling satisfied at the cries and yells the boy gave. If only he could have humiliated his father like this, given him a taste of the medicine. But the boy was the next best thing. After about a minute of sharp, regular whacks, he suddenly stopped and surveyed the boy. He was crying, and rather noisily. Idiot boy, he can face the Dark Lord then turn into a baby over a few swats?

"Potter, you may get up."

The dark haired boy scrambled up, his face rather pink. His eyes were slightly puffy and signs of dried tears showed on his face. One tear remained, one solitary tear.

"Get back to bed, Potter." Snape groaned at the reproachful pain in those green eyes.

In the end, he was Lily's son. And those green eyes hurt more than anything, anything else in the world.