Harry should have known it was too good to be true. A whole three weeks on his own in Diagon Alley? A room at the Leaky Cauldron and all the chocolate frogs he could eat? Nothing so marvelous could possibly happen to him, not with his luck. And the proof was standing right at the corner where the Knight Bus happened to stop, looming under a lamp post like a bad omen. Snape.
His stomach plunged to his feet as he stepped onto the cobblestones. He didn't even have a moment to collect himself before the great bat swooped down on him, grasping him by the collar and pulling him close. He was so close he could smell what he assumed was the man's aftershave, a heady mix of cedar and ash.
"You've done it this time, Potter," Snape hissed at him through crooked teeth. "Do you know how much trouble your little stunt has caused?" He didn't wait for a response. He whipped out his wand and wordlessly shrunk the boy's trunk, then stooped and pocketed it.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Snape merely glared at him. "Your wand."
Harry stared blankly at Snape, who held his hand out. When Harry didn't respond, the man seemed to lose his patience. He wordlessly began to frisk the shocked boy, and easily found his wand in the waistband of his jeans. He tucked it away in the folds of his billowing robe and sneered at Harry.
Harry started to protest, but was cut short as Snape again grasped him by the collar and pulled him several steps into the street. Diagon Alley was mostly deserted this time of night. A few people passed or glanced up from shop windows, but they all turned and went about their business, probably assuming that Harry was a misbehaving child being chastised by his angry father.
"Wait! Stop!" Harry cried out, eliciting a rough shake from the tall potions master. They suddenly stopped and Snape crouched, face level with Harry's, black eyes glittering dangerously.
"Not one word, Potter. The headmaster has sent me to retrieve you, and I will not tolerate any backtalk or resistance from you. I happened to be in the middle of an important project when I was called to deal with you. Your thoughtless antics have interrupted a very delicate brewing process and ruined weeks of work. Not to mention the disturbance you've caused at the ministry." He stood then and yanked Harry forward by the collar, momentarily choking him and leaving him sputtering for air.
"It's not my fault!" Harry managed once he could breathe again. Snape didn't pay attention to him, but continued to drag him through the street and toward a doorway - Harry recognized it as The Leaky Cauldron.
Snape banged through the door and gave a brief nod to the Innkeeper, who acknowledged him with a tip of his head.
"What do you need, sir?"
"The floo, please." Snape's voice was calm but Harry could hear a dangerous edge to it, like a splinter sticking out of polished wood. He didn't have time to protest as Snape dragged him toward the fireplace. Harry started to panic then. He didn't want to go with Snape - wherever it was that the man had in mind. He tried to twist out of his grasp, dropping his weight onto his heels and wriggling with all his might, but Snape's grip on his collar was like iron. He'd have to slip out of his shirt to have any chance of getting away, which was a distinct possibility as Harry was wearing one of Dudley's baggy cast-off t-shirts.
Before he could try, however, Snape wound up his free arm and gave Harry a mighty smack square on the bottom..
"Stop that," Snape hissed in his ear. Shocked, Harry immediately stopped struggling and let himself be dragged toward the large, open fireplace. His face burned with embarrassment. Did Snape really just smack him? No one had ever smacked him before, not even when he was a little kid.
Oh sure, Vernon had threatened and blustered about giving Harry "a good hiding", and he'd been grabbed, shaken, thrown and had frying pans and dishes thrown at him, but a smack? Never. It was too personal, too parental for the Dursleys. And if it was too personal for them, Harry couldn't fathom why his most hated professor would have done it. Harry was confused by the man's actions just as much as he would be had Snape cast Confundus on him.
Snape paused long enough to reach above the fireplace, where a stone mantle held a collection of little tin pots. He reached into one and scooped out the silvery floo powder, then threw it into the fire. The flames sputtered and turned a vivid green. Snape sneered down at Harry, then in a loud, clear voice, called out "Spinner's End!"
Harry shouted as he was summarily shoved into the flames. He shut his eyes tight reflexively as he was enfolded in the blaze and spun. In seconds, he was shoved forward out of the fire and into a dark room. The only light came from the fireplace burning behind them, casting an eerie green glow around the cramped space.
Snape appeared behind him and had a hand twisting the collar of his shirt up in what felt to Harry like a noose. His other hand brandished his wand. Without a word, he waved it and several lamps illuminated the room. Harry looked around as Snape stowed his wand up one of his long black sleeves..
They were in someone's parlor or sitting room. The room was small, but cozy with a mismatched, threadbare armchair and sofa taking up most of the space. The fireplace with its dark wood mantle adorned one wall. The others were covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves, laden down with what seemed like thousands of books. A faded axminster in what was once a vibrant paisley print was under their feet. This was not what Harry had been expecting. It was Snape, so he thought that they would be spit out into a meeting of Death Eaters or at least a dark dungeon. He only had a few seconds to take in the surprisingly normal room before Snape was shaking him once again.
"What precisely did you think you were doing, Potter? You've done some idiotic things in your brief life, but this is possibly the stupidest stunt you've pulled yet."
"Lemme go!" Harry protested and pushed against Snape. To his surprise, the man released him. Harry backed up a few steps toward a wall and watched Snape warily. The man looked livid, and just as foreboding as he ever did in his classroom.
"It wasn't my fault," Harry began, only to be cut off by a growl from Snape.
"Not your fault? You accidentally ran away from home? I find that difficult to believe."
Harry paused. "No… I thought you meant what I did to Marge," he finally sputtered. "I didn't mean to blow her up!"
Snape cocked his head and sneered. "Your relatives have been dealt with, Potter. It's your brainless flight to London that we're discussing now. Do you have any idea how much danger you're in?"
Harry shook his head. "I had my wand, sir. I didn't think-"
"That's the problem, isn't it, Potter? That you don't think." Snape advanced on him and Harry unconsciously stumbled back into a bookcase. Snape was suddenly crouched inches from his face, his dark eyes glittering dangerously as they bored holes into Harry. "I intend to make sure that you endeavor to do so in the future."
"Wh-what do you mean? What are you going to do?" Harry stammered.
Snape stood upright then and held up a hand. "Accio hairbrush." A rustling from beyond an open doorway that Harry noticed for the first time, and a large, rectangular hairbrush flew into the man's waiting hand. It was made of some dark wood and gleamed in the lamp light.
Distantly, Harry wondered if the git ever even used that hairbrush on his stringy locks or if it was just for show. He didn't understand why the professor had summoned a hairbrush of all things. He'd been expecting a weapon of some kind, or maybe an evil potion. But a harmless hairbrush? It was a puzzling turn of events.
Snape curled his lip at him and thwacked the brush into his palm twice. It made a loud noise and Harry suddenly got a bad feeling. Snape couldn't really mean to whack him with that, could he? Professors aren't allowed to just go around beating their students, no matter how much they disliked them. Although, his behind was still smarting from the smack Snape had dealt him in the pub. He certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about hitting Harry.
To Harry's surprise, Snape turned and walked across the room to the sofa. It groaned as he settled his weight on it. He placed the hairbrush beside him on the cushion and gestured imperiously to Harry.
"To me, Potter."
"What are you going to do?" Harry repeated, although he had a pretty good idea at this point.
The potions master raised an eyebrow. "I am going to teach you a lesson about stopping to think before you make rash decisions like running away."
"You can't!
"I assure you, Mr. Potter, I can."
"Dumbledore won't let you!"
"Professor Dumbledore asked only that I retrieve you, boy, and my condition was that I deal with you in the way I find most effective. He has more important things to worry about than your sorry hide."
Harry was breathing quickly. He glanced around the room, wondering wherethe open doorway led. Was it a possible escape?
"Don't bother trying to run. There's nowhere for you to go. Now, come here."
"Why do you even care that I ran away?" Harry cried. "What does it matter? I'm all right, aren't I? Nothing bad happened!"
"You foolish boy!" Snape hissed. "You have no idea the amount of danger you put yourself in tonight, do you? Does the name Sirius Black mean anything to you?"
"Black? The murderer who followed Voldemort?"
"Don't say that name in my presence!" Snape snapped. Harry recoiled. The professor took a moment to re-collect himself before continuing. "Do you know why he escaped, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head.
"He escaped to exact revenge on a snot-nosed brat with the sense of a grindylow in heat."
"You mean me, right? But why?" Harry asked.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Do you really have to ask? You're the so-called 'chosen one'. There will be scores of madmen lining up to murder you and avenge the Dark Lord. Which is why running away from the safety of the wards at your relative's home is such a terrible idea."
Harry pressed his back against the bookshelf behind him and shook his head.
"I didn't know. You don't understand. My relatives, they-"
"Are no doubt as ingratiating and pampering as the rest of your fan club.I doubt they've ever disciplined you in your life." Snape sneered contemptuously.
"No, you're not-"
"Enough!" Snape raised his voice just enough to startle Harry. "That's enough. I know the headmaster has stressed to you the importance of remaining with your muggle relatives over the summer. You chose to ignore that directive. I will impress upon you the seriousness of that violation. Come here."
Harry shook his head. Snape studied him for a moment. "You realize I could force you, don't you? If I must resort to hexing you to make you accept your punishment, it will not go well for you."
Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He knew Snape would do it. He imagined briefly being put under the Imperius, or being levitated against his will to the professor. He shuddered.
"Well, Mr. Potter? What will it be? My patience is wearing thin."
Against his better judgment, Harry took a shuffling step toward Snape, then another. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the man, who sat and smirked at him.
"Well, well. It seems you have some sense after all. Now, come bend over my knee." Snape gestured to his lap. Harry hesitated a moment, and then forced himself to bend at the waist. His chest brushed Snape's thighs. The man made an irritated noise and before he knew it, Harry felt hands under his arms, tugging him forward on the sofa. He found himself sprawled over Snape's lap, his hips centered over the man's knees and his upper body supported by the musty sofa..
"These muggle jeans are ridiculous," Snape commented dryly. "I'll never understand the youthful impulse to wear such ill-fitting attire."
Harry's face burned with embarrassment and anger from Snape's harsh judgment of his admittedly lacking wardrobe. He almost argued that he didn't have a choice in what to wear, but decided to keep his mouth shut.
"Now then," Snape continued. "I think a round dozen should suffice. But first, boy, tell me. Why are you being punished?"
A dozen? Harry blinked. He'd imagined that Snape would take the opportunity to beat him to a pulp, but a mere dozen whacks seemed manageable. He was so surprised that he forgot to reply to the man until Snape jostled him.
"Oh, er… I ran away?" He answered in a strained voice.
"Is that a question, Mr. Potter?"
"No. I mean, I ran away."
"You ran away and…"
Harry twisted his neck to look up at Snape. "I blew up Marge?"
Snape sighed. "I could not care less about the accidental magic. You ran away and you put yourself in mortal danger. Repeat it."
Harry looked back down at the couch cushion. "I… I put myself in mortal danger."
"Yes, Mr. Potter. Huge sacrifices have been made to keep you safe thus far, and you will not cheapen those sacrifices by taking unnecessary risks." Snape sounded… well, he sounded like he meant it. Like he really thought Harry's life was worth something. Like he didn't want Harry to get murdered by an escaped madman. This revelation was a bit strange to Harry, who found himself fidgeting uncomfortably as Snape lectured..
"This will be a shock to you, as you're not accustomed to being held responsible for your actions, but you must learn not to be so cavalier with your safety." The words were punctuated with a hearty smack. Just like that, Harry's first ever spanking commenced.
It didn't really hurt, not at first. His jeans were some protection and Snape wasn't hitting him brutally hard. The first four swats thudded more than they stung, and the loud noise the hairbrush made smacking against his behind was more startling than anything. As the spanking went on, however, a heat began to build, and Harry found himself less than confident in his ability to take the punishment stoically.
Snape, for his part, didn't lecture while he spanked. He slowly and carefully delivered each ringing smack, ignoring Harry's increasing squirming.
By the sixth smack, Harry was grunting. By the ninth smack, he was yelping. By twelve, there were tears in his eyes that he willed not to spill down his cheeks. Then the spanking ended and Snape helped him to his feet. Harry desperately wanted to rub his backside, but didn't want to give Snape the satisfaction. Instead, he hastily rubbed his eyes, hoping that the potions master wouldn't see evidence of how painful he'd found the punishment. If Snape noticed, he didn't comment. He stood and pocketed the hairbrush somewhere in his robes.
"Now, Mr. Potter. You're going to bed to think about your misbehavior and sleep. In the morning I will return you to your relatives' home, where you will stay until Sirius Black is caught or it's time to board the Hogwarts Express. Do I make myself clear?"
"But-"
"Think carefully about what you're about to say," Snape interrupted smoothly. There was that edge in his voice again. Harry shut his mouth and nodded. His backside throbbed. He wanted to argue against returning to the Dursleys, but there was no way he wanted to risk further punishment.
Snape glared down at him for a moment before his expression shifted to something more neutral. "I will lead you to the bedroom you'll be staying in this evening."
"Professor… where are we?" Harry dared to ask as he followed Snape toward the doorway.
"I should think that would be obvious even to you, Potter. This is my home."
Harry couldn't help but be astonished by this news. He had never given much thought to where his teachers lived when school was not in session - he'd always supposed that they must stay at Hogwarts. But here he was in Snape's house, being led to a bedroom where he was expected to sleep! Ron and Hermione would never believe this. Mostly because it seemed so… well, normal. Not a dungeon. Not a cave with bats. Just a normal looking, if dated and musty, front parlor. Suddenly the pain in his backside seemed to lessen as he eagerly looked forward to seeing the rest of the house.
Snape led him through the parlor, down a hallway and up a narrow flight of stairs. He opened the first door at the top of the stairs and ushered Harry inside. While Harry looked around the room, Snape deposited his trunk at the foot of a single brass bed and returned it to normal size. Besides the bed, which was made up with a flowered duvet and frilly pillows, there was a rickety chest of drawers and an antique wardrobe. There was a single window overlooking a small, overgrown garden. A layer of dust lay over the surfaces in the room and cobwebs clung to the corners of the ceiling. It looked as though this room hadn't been used in many months.
"Do you need the lavatory?" Snape asked.
Harry nodded. Snape led him to the door across the hall and waited outside as Harry used the toilet and washed his hands. The loo was small, like the rest of the rooms in the house. There was black and white tile on the floor and a chipped clawfoot tub. As Harry washed his hands in the pedestal sink, he stared at himself in the mirror on the back of the medicine cabinet. He looked tired. Maybe he would sleep after all.
When Harry opened the door, Snape was waiting with his arms crossed and a bored expression. He gestured for Harry to go back to the little bedroom, and then stood and glared at him from the doorway.
"Pajamas on and into bed, Mr. Potter. And Merlin help you if I catch you a toe out of this room tonight. I've wards that will alert me if you so much as sneeze, so don't think you can go creeping around like a thief in the night."
Harry shook his head. "I won't."
"Hm," Snape grunted and left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, wincing a bit as his sore behind made contact with the bedsprings. This had certainly been an eventful day. He flopped over on his side and watched as a puff of dust came up out of the duvet.
It was the first time his accidental magic had harmed someone, and it just happened to be Marge. Vernon would never forgive him. Harry winced, thinking about facing his uncle. The first time he ran away from home, and it was an unmitigated disaster. His first spanking.
No, Harry decided, his only spanking. He was never going to let that happen again. It was too humiliating. Not to mention painful. And Snape of all people spanked him! Harry would have expected hexes, curses, evil potions to disfigure him or turn him into a toad, but nothing so juvenile as a spanking across the man's knee! And Harry didn't know what he would have expected in a spanking from Snape, but he would have thought it would be a lot worse than it was. Not that it hadn't hurt. His bottom still twinged.
Harry rolled over on his other side and groaned. Mulling over the impending reunion with the Dursleys, Harry decided that he would write to Dumbledore as soon as he could and try to persuade him to let him go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. Surely that would be a safe place for him. There would be no reason for any murderers to look for him there. Just as soon as he got back to Privet Drive, he would put ink to parchment. Maybe, if he laid low in his room and never showed his face to Vernon and Petunia, they would leave him alone. He sighed. He knew that wasn't very likely. He'd have to face them and deal with the consequences of his accidental magic.
It was to these thoughts that Harry fell asleep, stretched out on his side on top of the duvet.
