"I don't want to choose," Harry told him, his voice small. "Please. How often is the punishment the choice of the one punished?"

"I see," Snape nodded, feeling sympathy. He also had some small part of his brain with that bloody Granger in it that said that Harry had wanted to choose his lap before, but was afraid of rejection. Perhaps it was kinder to not give the lad a choice in the matter. "I was trying to give you some feeling of control with you being able to choose. But if that makes it harder, I will choose for you."

"Please do," Harry agreed, relieved. He didn't want the cane, but he also didn't want to say he wanted to bend over his guardian's lap either.

"Then you are getting the slipper," Snape told him. "I feel that in this issue it was more about me as your guardian than your instructor."

Harry paled, and nodded. He really hadn't wanted to choose, but this was the choice he had hoped Snape would make. Snape picked up the slipper deliberately, and walked to the sofa. He sat down slowly and deliberately, arranging his robes and then looking at the boy who was staring at him in fear.

"Come here," Snape ordered, looking at him directly.

Gulping, Harry obeyed. His leaden feet trudged over, and Snape didn't betray the first sign of impatience. Harry stood before Snape, looking down and waiting for violence. Snape wasn't having that, though. He wasn't going to wrestle Harry down, he wanted Harry to accept the consequence.

"Bend over my lap," Snape instructed, and then helped guide Harry into position. He felt the weight of the boy stomach down on his lap, and tucked a pillow under Harry's chest and face. He felt the boy's body tremble slightly, and take a deep breath as if to calm himself as he clutched the pillow.

Looking at the boy's backside presented for punishment, Snape felt a pang of sympathy for the boy. Even though he absolutely believed this was justice, there was a part of him that wished it didn't have to happen. Especially knowing how the boy had been abused before, and especially given that the he had only recently been given guardianship of the lad. Snape reflected that his feelings now were a far cry from the night before, when he had barely been able to keep himself from injuring the lad in his anger. He had made the right choice to send the boy away until he could regain his reason.

Setting his mind to the task before him and telling himself that sympathy would help Harry in the slightest in this circumstance, he wrapped one of his arms around Harry's torso to hold him firmly; feeling the boy flinch away from the touch. It wasn't lost on Snape that the boy seemed unused to touch, though in this situation Snape supposed that his touch would not be the most welcome at he would soon be smacking the boy's backside. He did not admit to himself that the flinch also made him feel sad in a way too. Snape, pushing those thoughts away forced himself to return to the task at hand: making the boy regret his impetuous actions.

"For what it's worth," Harry told him, burying his face in the pillow. "I really am sorry."

"And that is truly why you're getting the slipper and not the cane," Snape replied. "But there is still such a thing as justice. You made the choice to violate my privacy, and you will pay the price for that choice."

With that, Snape brought the slipper down on the awaiting backside, causing Harry to hiss and flinch. Snape continued the spanking sternly, with a steady and uncompromising rhythm, covering Harry's backside with stern, measured smacks. At first Snape could sense Harry trying to hold himself as still as possible, not moving beyond flinching. And then, as the spanking continued, Harry started to change. At first his leg kicked a bit, and then Harry was actually squirming on his lap.

Snape rarely spanked a student on his lap, and when he did it was often a nervous first year. He usually reprimanded students for moving too much during their punishment, but something made him hesitate. Watching the stoic and frozen response Harry had before the paddle, Snape made a conscious decision not to correct Harry's squirming. He let the boy squirm and kick, and just kept relentlessly applying the slipper.

"Ouch!" Harry protested. "Please professor! I'm sorry!"

"You should be," Snape continued, smacking his upper thighs sternly.

Harry started fighting more, but still Snape kept this tight grip on him. He then felt Harry's lungs begin to hitch, and he was sure the boy's face was beginning to wet with tears. Still he continued, though he knew he was near the end. He wanted Harry to cry. This spanking was perhaps a few more swats than Harry had gotten last time, but he was acting so differently in fighting back. Snape had to smile internally at it – this was certainly not the child that had shocked Snape by holding stiff and silent before. There was a way he was feeling that Harry fighting him and him holding him still was a way of containing Harry – as if Harry had never been able to protest before. This spanking certainly smarted, but not nearly as much as to warrant Harry fighting him like this. But this was testing too – could he handle Harry's protesting?

And then it ended, with Snape laying the slipper beside him on the sofa, relaxing his hold on the torso of the sobbing boy. Snape was struck by how much younger Harry seemed like this – as if he were actually a young child. Harry made no move to get up, and Snape let him stay on his lap with Snape's hand resting gently on the boy's back.

"I'm sorry," Harry sniffed as he got control of himself. "I was such a baby."

"It is perfectly fine," Snape replied, patting his back. "I can take it. You don't have to hold still and quiet."

"It wasn't even that bad," Harry sniffed again, still not getting up. "I mean, you did a proper job and all. But I thought it would be much worse."

"It could have been," Snape told him. "This was mercy. Don't do it again, though."

"I won't!" Harry promised.

"So was it that bad to be on my lap?" Snape asked him, leaning back in the sofa.

Harry scooted down a bit on the sofa, leaving part of his torso on Snape and turning a bit. Snape was surprised, since Harry had seemed to object so much to being on his lap, and now seemed quite cozy on it. "Not like I thought," Harry admitted. "It was much . . . better, really. I mean, while you were smacking I mostly was just thinking about how much my bum hurt. And then, I don't know, I wanted to kick a bit. And you held me."

"I did," Snape acknowledged. "Let me make a guess; you were not allowed to move at all when your Uncle punished you."

"If I did I would get double," Harry softly answered. "No matter how much it hurt, I held still."

"It is very hard to deny your body and do that," Snape told him. "You had to have very firm control in order to do it."

"I guess."

"Harry, that's the basis for Occlumency."

"It is?" he asked.

"It's how I learned it," Snape answered, not expanding on that particular topic. "I want you to think about one of the times with your Uncle. It should be easier with a sore backside to put yourself in the memory."

"I really hate those memories," Harry grumbled.

"I know, but you're safe here," Snape told him. "Trust me. Think about that time."

Harry closed his eyes, and thought about the last time that his Uncle had taken a strap to him. He had burned the breakfast because he'd run to use the bathroom when nobody was looking. But he had been caught, and the consequences had been painful indeed. "I'm thinking about it," Harry mumbled.

"Tell me details," Snape told him. "Even ones you don't think are important."

"It was in the kitchen," Harry told him. "I'd snuck off to use the loo while I was cooking, but I'm not supposed to do that. Wasn't supposed to use the bathroom until people were eating breakfast. But I had to go so bad . . . well, the bacon got crispier than it was supposed to be. Uncle Vernon liked his bacon soft and just a little crispy, I had mastered it years ago. But before I could start his pieces over Uncle Vernon smelled it, and when he came in he started yelling. He grabbed the pan, but it was the cast iron pan so he burnt his hand. His face became red . . . almost purple. I was trapped, my back crashed into the edge of the worktop. He shoved me down . . . took off his belt . . ."

"And you froze," Snape prompted.

"Trying to run makes it worse," Harry said, his voice sounding young and soft. "Once Uncle Vernon had decided on a beating, the best thing to do was to stay still and quiet and endure it. And I could tell he'd decided on the beating."

"Did it hurt?" Snape pushed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked incredulously. "I was sore for days."

"Afterwards, of course," Snape nodded. "But did it hurt at the time?"

"I don't remember," Harry answered, confused. "I don't remember exactly."

"What did you remember?" Snape pressed gently.

"I remember Uncle Vernon knocking over a mug," Harry answered. "He actually knocked several things over in the process. He even hit the light fixture a few times when he really swung the belt high. But the mug, when it fell, well, the handle broke off. The handle was near where my face was pressing into the floor. I focused on the broken handle. That's what I remember."

"That's a form of Occlumency," Snape explained. "You knew you had to not react to the beating, so your magic formed a shield in your mind to not feel the pain so you could endure the beating and not react. You focused on something else, using that focus to separate your mind and your body."

"So can I use that to do Occlumency with you for lessons?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape answered. "That's actually the core of what you do for Occlumency."

"Try it!" Harry exclaimed, sitting up excitedly and then wincing as his backside made contact with the couch. "Ouch," he rubbed his bottom, with a slightly accusing tone towards Snape.

"You deserved it," Snape told him, leveling his eyes at Harry. "Now prepare yourself. Legilimens!"

Harry felt the intrusion, as he had before, but this time it felt different. He focused on the image of the broken mug handle, and he was able to separate his mind; Snape couldn't enter. He felt Snape pressing on the boundary, but not get past it.

"Excellent! You now have a basic shield!" Snape praised him. "I could still break it if I tried, but it is remarkably sturdy for your first one."

"What happens if you break it?" Harry asked.

"It would be unpleasant for you," Snape told him. "And I believe I've inflicted enough unpleasantness on you this evening. There is a lot more to occlumency for you to work on, but this is the first real progress we've made."

"So that's what you mean by clearing my mind?" Harry asked. "Those are the exercises to do before bed?"

"Yes," Snape told him. "Exactly it. Practice that every night before bed, and hopefully it will help with those dreams."

"I'll do it!" Harry replied, happy to have made progress.

"Is your backside alright or do you need a potion to sleep tonight?" Snape asked him straightforwardly, as if asking which salad dressing he wanted.

"It's not that bad, professor," Harry grinned at him, cheeky. "I mean, it still stings a bit, but its not that bad. Certainly not bad enough to have some foul-tasting potion. After the paddle, though, that I would have taken you up on."

"I am glad you're recovered," Snape nodded solemnly.

"That's how Ron's dad punishes him, you know," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "The slipper, I mean. Over the lap."

"Did it feel fatherly?" Snape asked him, surprised by his own question. Why would he wonder if he was fatherly enough to Potter?

"I think so," Harry answered. "I mean, I've never had a father so I don't really know. But how Ron talks about it – well, like he'd rather not get it but that it doesn't really make him resent his dad or anything. I think probably because he usually feels bad about whatever he did, and his dad doesn't do it unless he really rates it, you know? So yeah, I think maybe it did feel . . . well, fatherly."

"And you made such a fuss about it over the summer."

"Things are different now," Harry told him. "You want to be my guardian, not just some random professor at my school bent on making me behave myself."

"I believe I did an adequate job at that," Snape told him. "You didn't prank the Dursley's after my intervention."

Harry snorted. "I would have been a nutter to tempt fate like that!"

"Well, tempting fate or not, you've now had your lecture, smacking, and even your make-up lesson," Snape told him firmly. "I believe bedtime is now in order."

"Already?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I believe a reasonable bedtime was one of my rules," Snape intoned. "So unless you'd like to stay here for the night, it's best you get back to your tower."

Snape was taken aback by the look of interest in the boy's eye – he actually wouldn't have minded staying with Snape! What had he gotten himself into, being a ward for an emotional Gryffindor? What was next – slumber parties? Exchanging encouraging notes back and forth? Hot cocoa in front of the fire together?

"Good night, Mr. Potter," Snape told him, clearly saying that a slumber party was not an option.

"Good night, Professor," Harry answered. "I really am sorry about what I did to you."

"You are forgiven," Snape told him, softening a little. "But you know what to expect should it happen again."

"Like I'm that daft!" Harry snorted. "I'd just as soon not get that slipper again."

"Then I will see you tomorrow night for your lesson," Snape told him. "You may bring your sidekicks if necessary."

"Great!" Harry agreed. "See you then."

Harry left the office then, wrapped in his cloak, and giving his bottom an unconscious rub as he made his way back to the tower.