Sunday evening at precisely seven-thirty Snape found three somber Gryffindors filing into his office. Hermione seemed to be facing this with characteristic determination, Ron with abject fear, and Harry with something different. Something that Snape himself was worried about defining. Resignation?
"Good evening, Professor," Hermione greeted him. "Perhaps you could start by telling us about what has happened with Mr. Safer?"
"He is headed to Azkaban," Snape told them. "Mr. Potter is completely exonerated. When searched, the moonseed poison was found as well as other . . . incriminating materials. They are waiting on official permission to use Veritaserum to confirm, but nobody has any doubt that he's the murderer."
"So he killed that poor bloke because he was trying to get revenge on Krum accidently killing his brother in Quidditch?" Ron asked. "That seems a bit, well, vindictive."
"We are none of us at our best when our loved ones are killed," Snape answered, feeling the spark of pain at thinking about Lily. And here he was explaining this to her son! "But you're right, murder does seem a bit of an over-reaction."
"But why did he frame Harry and then exonerate him?" Hermione asked. "It doesn't make sense."
"Unfortunately that will be one of the questions to be answered by Veritaserum," Snape answered her. "He did not tell me that."
"Is it possible someone else is involved?" she asked.
"Perhaps," Snape answered, considering. "But not another murder, per say. But someone that was somewhat in league with Mr. Safer perhaps."
"Thank you for exonerating me, Professor," Harry told him seriously. "I take it as a great personal favor that you believed me even when I didn't believe myself."
"You are welcome," Snape told him. "I believe that there are numerous reasons for you to face punishment, Mr. Potter, so there is no need for you to be punished for things you didn't do."
"You didn't have to help me," Harry told him earnestly. "Thank you for doing so."
"Are you Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs?" Snape demanded. "You will each get six of the best with my paddle, and Potter will get an extra stroke for his blatant disrespect from a few days ago."
The three paled and looked down, their gratefulness to their Potions professor thankfully becoming unspoken. Snape could handle their fear and rage far more than their admiration. How did things get to where they were thanking them right before he doled out a harsh punishment?
"I want to give you three a one-time amnesty," he told them firmly. "You can admit any and all stealing from me and I will consider it punished with this punishment without adding any strokes. I'm speaking particularly about the boomslang skin that was stolen this year."
"It wasn't us," Hermione answered firmly. "I told you the truth the first time."
"And you aren't cleverly avoiding it?" he asked.
"None of us know anything about a boomslang skin stolen this year," Harry told him firmly. "If it wouldn't add to our punishment, why wouldn't we tell you?"
"That is a point," Snape responded. "But I also want details on the one you did steal."
"I told you it was for Polyjuice," Hermione told him.
"I have had your confession, Miss Granger," he told her. "I believe the bargain was for your compatriot's confessions."
"We created the distraction," Ron confessed. "The fireworks in Malfoy's cauldron, that was us. Hermione decided to actually do the stealing because, well, she had a clean record. So we just had to make the diversion."
"And a dangerous diversion at that," he sternly intoned.
Gulping, Ron nodded. "It was foolish," he agreed. "And we didn't even learn anything useful."
"So you three have admitted to theft, arson, drugging fellow students, assault, brewing and using a classified potion, sneaking into another common room, impersonating other students, and generally having a complete disrespect for the rules. Do any of you dispute these charges?"
They all three shook their heads. It sounded so much worse how Snape said it.
"Since most of the offenses were committed against me and my house, I have the right to punish you for it. Any of you three have the right to refuse my censure and instead apply to the headmaster for your punishment instead."
"I don't go back on my word," Hermione told him quietly.
"I'm not letting Hermione get the cane," Ron added.
"I won't give Miss Granger the cane," Snape told him, smirking at his blind bravery for the pretty Gryffindor. "Even should you back out."
"We agreed," Harry quietly replied. "We don't go back on our word. Even if it hurts."
"Very well, then your reckoning is upon you. Since Miss Granger was the actual Boomslang thief, I suggest she goes first."
"But . . ." Ron protested.
"I can go first," Hermione told him firmly. "We talked about this, Ron. There is no place for chivalry here."
"I'll take hers," Ron offered, though Snape heard the fear in his voice.
"Everyone takes their own," Snape intoned. "Miss Granger, please remove your robes and bend over the desk."
Hermione nodded, silent, and complied. With the air of dignity, she folded her robe nicely and then bent over the edge of the desk, forming a triangle with her hands and resting her forehead on that. Though she had never experienced anything like this, she assumed that it would be painful. Her uniform skirt came up a little in back, and Snape knew to make sure the paddle landed where the fabric would provide at least a little cushioning.
Snape brought the paddle out of the drawer, unbuttoning his shirt at the wrist and cuffing it a bit. He saw the boys' eyes widen as they saw the paddle, and Ron squeaked in concern. Snape knew that it did look intimidating, it was a thick, long length of solid, dark-polished wood with beveled holes drilled in it.
"Why a paddle, Professor?" Hermione asked in some semblance of calm. "It is an uncommon disciplinary tool in Britain."
"It hurts more than the slipper," Snape explained. "But doesn't leave marks like the cane. I received this one as a gift from a fellow teacher in America, and have found it very useful for its intended purposes."
"Do you do this often then, sir?" Hermione asked, her voice nearly shaking.
"Often enough," Snape answered. "Though rarely does a student need a second dose. I hope that to be the case with you three as well."
"We won't steal from you again," Hermione promised.
"Very well," Snape nodded. "Six of the best. Remain in position until I excuse you."
Harry and Ron gasped in shock as they watched Snape draw his arm back what seemed to be impossibly far and then let the paddle smack harshly against Hermione's skirt-clad backside. She let out a startled yelp at the impact, but remained in position. Another stroke fell, causing her to jump so that her knees hit the side of the desk. She had let out another yelp, but tears didn't form until the third stroke. Hermione didn't protest, again impressing Snape on how Hermione truly was the Gryffindor the hat had said she was rather than the Ravenclaw Snape had assumed she should have been. She took her punishment with bravery. Snape aimed the last stroke brutally across her upper thighs, causing a strangled sob to escape her lips.
"Your punishment is complete, Miss Granger," he told her calmly. "You may collect your things and wait in the hallway for your housemates."
"Yes, sir," she replied in a strangled voice, gathering her robe and heading for the door.
"Thank you, sir," Ron told him in a low voice after Hermione had closed the door. "I don't think I can bear her seeing me."
"You saw her be disciplined," Snape replied, arching an eyebrow at the lad.
"That's just it," Ron admitted. "I think she was way braver than I will be."
"Let's find out, shall we?" Snape asked him. "Mr. Weasley, please remove your robe and bend over the desk."
Ron gulped in response, and obeyed, his face stricken in fear. He had been spanked by his own parents, sure, but he knew that this was going to be much different.
"I trust that you will not repeat your behavior, Mr. Weasley," he intoned.
"I won't!" Ron promised. "But I could promise that even without . . ."
The first smack took Ron by surprised, and a startled yelp came from his mouth. His knees kicked against the desk at the second stroke, and a strangled cry came from his mouth at three. Snape found himself feeling more sympathy for the lad than he had anticipated, but forced himself not to soften the swats he was delivering to the lad's backside. As he smacked the last one against the boy's seat of his pants, he heard sobs erupt from the boy. He gave the lad a moment to calm himself, and then said quietly, "Your punishment is complete, Mr. Weasley. Please join Miss Granger in the hallway."
Ron, his normally freckled face flushed and teary, nodded as he pushed himself up from the desk. Re-adjusting his clothes as he wiped his eyes, he silently took his robes and filed out of the room, surreptitiously rubbing his backside just before he opened the door. Harry gulped when he saw his friends leave, suddenly it was just him and the Potions Master. He was alone with the man that had made it a study to make his last four years at school miserable. And he was completely under his power.
"Are you ready for your punishment, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked quietly.
"I am," Harry answered, his voice cracking slightly. "Same as the others, then?"
"Except you will receive seven," Snape told him. "Assume the position, Mr. Potter."
Harry, trying to keep his hands from shaking, unfastened his robe and then walked over to the desk. Silently, he bent over the desk and waited for his sentence.
Snape watched the lad ready himself for his punishment, and he found himself feeling that there was something wrong. In this entire time together the lad had been far too quiet, and Snape found himself wondering at it. Where was the mouthy, disrespectful boy that had populated his classes?
"I appreciate your integrity and staying with our agreement," Snape told him. "Even at personal cost."
"I keep my word," Harry answered stoically.
"And so do I," Snape answered, raising the paddle. "Brace yourself."
Harry took his punishment stoically, not making a sound beyond a sharp intake of breath as the first smack fell. Subsequent smacks got equal response, and Harry didn't even move for the last stroke placed on his upper thighs.
The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Snape, and he quietly placed the paddle on the desk. He walked quietly to his chair, and sat down facing Harry, his hands steepled in thought.
"You may raise, Mr. Potter," Snape told him. "But please tarry for a minute."
"Sir?" he asked, his voice thick.
"Please remove your shirt, Mr. Potter."
"What?" Harry echoed, incredulous.
"Please remove your shirt," he said, slightly sterner.
"But you already disciplined me, sir!" Harry objected, his voice holding abject fear.
Any doubt that still lingered for Snape evaporated like mist. "I can spell it off just as easy," Snape told him. "This is not for discipline, I am not intending to discipline you any further this evening. However, I might reconsider that if you do not obey me at once."
Harry obeyed slowly, removing his shirt and looking down, trying to control his fear. He felt far more vulnerable without his shirt on than he did even bending over the desk. He felt as if he could hardly breathe.
Snape looked at the lad's back, carefully enough that the memory could be put in a pensieve if needed. The scars Snape expected were there, healed over the course of years. They were not pronounced or obvious, but there if you knew what to look for.
"You may replace your shirt," Snape told him.
"Yes, sir," Harry nodded, quickly putting his shirt back on and looking up in confusion.
"How long have they been beating you?" he asked in his silky voice.
"What?" Harry asked, shocked.
"I should have seen it before," Snape told him wearily. "I am not usually fooled. Your guardians, your aunt and uncle. How long have they been beating you?"
"All along," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse with unshed tears. "Though it became much worse when I started having accidental magic."
"You will report for a full medical scan to Madame Pomfrey on the morrow," he told him.
"How did you know?" Harry asked, dazed.
"The signs are unmistakable," Snape told him. "Your friend Mr. Weasley had been smacked by his parents on occasion, but did he lie still and silent while I punished him?"
"He didn't," Harry answered.
"That's one of the clues," Snape told him. "Abused children will often be still and silent like you were. There are other clues, but I have obviously let my . . . history with your family skew my judgment."
"Dumbledore said that I had to live there for my protection," Harry explained. "The blood wards . . ."
"Let me assure you that if Dumbledore knew the extent of their abuse that you would have been removed," Snape told him.
"Are you going to tell him?" Harry asked, shocked. "They're going to kill me!"
"Of course I am," Snape told him in a no-nonsense voice. "And let me assure you now, on my honor as a wizard, that you will not be returned to that home."
"Why do you care?" Harry asked, tears brimming in his eyes for the first time.
"We will discuss that later," Snape told him, sighing. "But for right now, you may join your friends in the hallway."