Author's Note: This fic is anelaboration on a scene inthe film version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, not the coresponding scene in the book, mostly because I could not figure out a way for Ron to figure into it, and also because it takes place within Professor Lupin's classroom instead of the entrance hall, which is a much better setting for this fic. The content of this fic isn't really sexual, but I kinda got off on it, causeI get off on angst in a strange way.JKR and Warner Brothers owns all the characters and stuff, so I only wrote this for my own sick pleasure and for the pleasure of all who may wish to read it. Enjoy!
"You know, your father never set much store by the rules either, but he and your mother gave their lives to save yours. Gambling away their sacrifice seems a pretty poor way to repay them!" Remus Lupin could hardly recognize his own voice through the stern tone. He hoped he did not sound cold or cruel. The last thing he wanted was for Harry to be afraid of him. Holding the Marauders' Map in his hand for the first time in years, all the old memories of James and Lily came back to him as he looked at their adolescent son. Back when they had been teenagers, Remus thought, they had gotten into more trouble than Harry could conceive of. But Harry's birth had naturally awakened their sense of responsibility, and Remus could not think of two better parents in the time they had had the joy of being so.
"I'm sorry, Professor," Harry whispered hoarsely. Any mention of his mum and dad usually caused a tight clench in his throat, but the thought of dishonoring their memory just to satisfy a passing curiosity made speech nearly impossible. Added on to the fact that he was being told off and punished by his favorite teacher, and all Harry could do was look down at his feet, staring at the hurriedly tied laces on his trainers under a weight of shame.
Lupin set the map on his desk and rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know your parents would be proud of the young man you are becoming, Harry, don't get me wrong. But it seems to me that you have not been raised with the proper boundaries and discipline in your life."
Harry could not argue with him on that. While the Dursleys delighted in punishing his existence, they never gave much consideration to his behaviour, good or bad. Thinking it wise to let Lupin finnish his lecture, Harry remained silent, but lifted his head to look him in the eyes, curious as to what he would say next.
"So, as your teacher, I think it neccessary that we remedy that right away. I think your character will only be strengthened by a proper punishment. Lean over my desk, palms down, and rest on your elbows."
To Lupin's surprise, Harry did not protest, but he did freeze where he stood, his eyes wide behind his skewed glasses. "I'm not going to harm you, Harry, but judging by your school record, detentions and scoldings don't make much of an impression, so a more severe course of action is required. Perhaps a sore backside will be a stronger deterrent than even Professor Snape's detentions." He managed a small smile, then firmly pointed towards the desk.
Harry remembered a day in his first year when he feared Professor McGonagall was going to cane him for chasing Malfoy on their broomsticks when neither of them had permission to be flying. To his shock and relief, he was instead placed on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now it appeared that a spanking was indeed going to happen. Deep down, Harry knew he deserved it. He had definately stepped out of bounds, his infraction made worse by the fact that he had jeopardized perhaps even his own life. The tightness in his throat moved down to his stomach as he forced his feet to take a few steps forward, and lean over the flat, wooden desktop. Harry gulped hard when he felt Professor Lupin's firm hand grasp his inner thigh and force his legs slightly apart, positioning him so as to properly take his punishment. The fabric of his pajama bottoms stretched across his bum and hips, forcing his attention to that area of his anatomy and making him feel exposed. He hoped he would not have to pull them down.
Lupin contemplated the sight of the prostrated boy before him. He was unsure how to procede. He had yet to administer corporal punishment on a student. All the teachers were provided with a standard rattan cane for the more extreme transgressions, but few elected to use them, and he could see why. When applied with even the slightest over-exertion, they could cut into the skin. His heart ached for Harry, but he felt he owed it to James and Lily to ensure their son's safety, and to show him the clearly regimented kind of discipline he had lacked his entire life. Still, he remembered the three foot long, flexible cane laid on the floor behind his desk, and thought it too harsh a punishment. For a moment, he pondered what else he could use, and decided his wand would be a better choice. The smaller, rigid form would not slice Harry's skin, but only leave a few sharp welts that would go away in a day or two. Withdrawing a small lead cap from his pocket, Lupin fitted it securely over the tip of his fourteen inch, oak wand to prevent any stray bits of magic from injuring either of them.
"I'm going to use my wand instead of the cane. It will be a bit easier to take, but I assure you, if I hear of you putting yourself at risk like that again, I will not be so lenient next time. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I understand." Harry felt a slight bit of relief knowing he would not have to face the cane, but it vanished when he heard Lupin's footsteps behind him, taking his place at Harry's left side. As nervous as he was, he was determined to take each swat as stoically as he could. Closing his eyes and balling his fists on the desktop, he thought for a moment of his father. He would have probably punished him the same way, but then again, if his parents were alive, there would be no threat to his life to start with, and he would not be in this position at all. That thought saddened Harry enough to let his eyes well up and a single tear to fall.
The first blow came unexpectedly. For barely a fraction of a second, Harry heard the swish of the professor's wand whip through the air, then a muffled crack as it made contact with his bottom. The sharp sting made Harry gasp and sag against the desktop, his forehead coming to rest on the polished wood. Two more swats and he had to force himself to draw a few ragged breaths and keep still. As painful and embarassing as this was, he felt a subtle warmth settle inside his chest. He felt protected and cared for.
I needed this, Harry thought. Maybe not to be spanked, specifically. It was the need for someone to care enough about him to keep him in line, to build his character through a clear system of actions and consequences. The bullying he had endured from the Dursley's most of his life had done nothing but leave him angry and confused, ashamed of himself without being entirely sure why.
With every blow, Lupin winced along with Harry. He hated the thought of hurting anyone, but he continued to remind himself that this was for Harry's own good. Though the boy tried to hide it, Lupin could see the glistening teardrops fall from his face when he lifted his head to draw a breath, sucking air into his lungs through gritted teeth. How like James he was, Lupin said to himself, how unwilling to be broken. He brought the wand down again, three more times in quick succession, watching Harry lurch forward each time, his hands clawing and slapping at the desk involuntarily, making thudding noises in time with the sharper whipping sounds of his wand. The thin pajamas didn't offer much protection, and he knew Harry's bottom must be turning an angry shade of pink by now. The official Hogwarts Code of Conduct suggested a dozen strikes with the cane, but since the wand was milder, he decided an even twenty would be just enough to get his point across without being mean. As he rained five more swats down, he heard Harry begin to mumble, but he couldn't make out what he was saying. Only disjointed "owws" and "sorrys" were discernable.
As the punishment continued, Harry felt he was close to passing out from the fiery agony on his arse. He wanted to beg Professor Lupin to stop, to say he was sorry and would never step out of line again, but his ego battled him fiercely, refusing to let more than a few muddled words and sounds escape his lips. He was beginning to feel dizzy, and inexplicable images were flashing through his mind, shadows and snow flurries, curling into crude shapes that melted away before they could be identified. He thought again of his father, of the face, so much like his own, who smiled up at him from the few pictures he had. Harry knew he would have been disappointed in him for being so reckless, but didn't everyone always say his dad had a talent for mischief? He would have understood, and would have loved him all the same. He tried to focus on his breathing, forcing himself to stifle cries was making him lightheaded.
As the final nine swats came, Lupin placed his left hand comfortingly on the small of Harry's back, to keep him from thrashing too much. Even through the oversized sweatshirt he wore, Harry could feel the warmth of his hand, and the sensation was soothing, like a down comforter enfolding him. The blurred images began to sharpen, though they remained confusing. Animals darting through trees, a ramshackle room covered in cobwebs...none of it looked familiar, but Harry felt a connection to the places. Professor Lupin's touch made them come into focus, as though the two of them shared the images and needed to make contact for them to become clear.
When he laid his hand on him, Lupin realized immediately what he had done. The souls of wizards are bonded with each other closer than that of Muggles, and in heightened emotional states, physical contact can open a channel. His fond memories of his youth with James and their friends, the nights prowling the forests and holed up in the shack, were being transfered to Harry. He was seeing all their childhood haunts, seeing the animagus forms they took on, but of course, had no idea who they truly were. Knowing it was better for Harry not to know, at least, not just yet, he removed his hand from Harry's back and let the strands of memory dissolve. Lupin fought back the urge to tear up and delivered the last blows a bit harder than he intended.
At the last strike, Harry's head was spinning uncontrollably. Without realizing it, he cried out a single word that permeated the air uncomfortably in the following silence.
"Dad..."
He didn't get up from the desktop right away, and Lupin let him sob it out for several minutes, taking time to compose himself as well. He was not entirely sure he had done the right thing, but it was over now, could not be undone. Clearing his throat loudly, Lupin removed the protective cap from his wand and pointed it up towards his office above the classroom. "Accio salve. "
A small clay jar came floating over the railing and down to Professor Lupin's outstretched hand. "Here, Harry, take this. It will cool down your flesh and minimize any bruises."
Feeling stiff and brittle, Harry slowly pulled himself upright. He took the jar without looking at the professor, feeling utterly humiliated after calling out for his father. Testing his powers of speech, Harry managed a few words. "So,... I can go now?"
Lupin nodded. "Before you go, I want you to know that what I just did...well, you took it very well. And I was not trying to be cruel, Harry, so this is the end of it. I won't rehash why I punished you, or lecture you further on the matter. In which case, I hope I got my point across."
Harry reached around to rub his stinging bum. "You did, Professor."
"Good, now go back to bed and stay there. And don't take any detours, if you do," Lupin gestured towards the map with just a hint of a smile, "I shall know."