[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic per say, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.
Author's notes: regarding the setting for this fic, please see the introductory notes at the beginning of chapter 1. Intense spanking of Harry in the following chapters. (I really must stress, if you haven't read my bio, that in real life I am not a proponent of corporal punishment outside of consensual adult relationships), everything in here is merely for the sake of the disciplinary plot.
Happy reading! My overall notes for these three chapters will be at the end of 13.
Chapter 11: A Guiding Hand
Harry opened his eyes slowly, squinting as the harsh sunlight penetrated his spacious room. He groaned out loud, hating the punishing thumps of his throbbing headache. Apparently, Snape's potion did little to alleviate the morning after effects of excessive drinking.
Harry shoved the covers off his thin frame and gingerly pushed himself to a sitting position. His stomach churned and twisted with each movement, and his head throbbed as if a team of Bludgers were relentlessly pounding against his skull.
Great, Harry thought to himself as he rubbed away the sleep from his puffy eyes.
He felt the cold floor beneath his warm feet as he forced himself to stand. Despite the misery coursing through him, he was relieved not to have to fight back waves of nausea. He briefly wondered how Ron was fairing, hoping his best mate got some sleep.
Harry leaned over, snatched his glasses off the bedside table and adjusted them on his face. He took a deep, steadying breath, forcing himself to think about anything other than his impending punishment with Snape. Last night was just dreadful, so blimey dreadful, and sleep hadn't come easy to the young wizard.
After sliding on a fresh long sleeve shirt and a pair of trousers, Harry cautiously descended the creaky wooden staircase to his bedroom door. With each groaning step, the pounding in his head intensified, sending sharp stabs of pain through his temples.
His hands grew clammy, and an invisible weight pressed down on his chest, making each breath a conscious effort. The mere act of walking felt like traversing a treacherous path, as if the world was in protest of his overindulgence.
Slowly opening his door at the bottom of the staircase, Harry's tired eyes wandered around the upper part of the house. To his relief, there was no sign of Snape. The quiet half library exuded the comforting scent of aged leather and parchment paper, and the dark study appeared empty too, offering Harry a small wave of relief.
Despite Snape's nocturnal tendencies, Harry knew he was awake. It was as if Snape had a personal vendetta against the sun, determined to rise before it and assert his dominance over the morning.
Harry peaked down the staircase leading to the bottom floor of the house, feeling relieved to see the previously splintered and split wooden dowel repaired. Though, he wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a terribly bad one. The house was eerily quiet, and Harry wondered if Snape was outside.
Harry carefully made his way to the small bathroom located to the left of the study, hoping he'd feel better after washing his face and brushing his teeth. He pulled his hand up to his stiff neck, giving it a soothing rub, and pushed open the dark wooden door. With a soft clack, he shut it behind him and let out a long sigh. The sound of rushing water poured into the porcelain sink, splashing in every direction and filling the space with a bubbling noise.
Harry moaned, this day was not going to be a good one.
The faint clinking of metal shears snapping open and closed reverberated in the honey-sun bathed greenhouse. With dutiful precision Snape snipped away a few remaining pieces of the dittany plant that Ron had so clearly missed while grumbling yesterday.
Snape scoffed, bending low to spin off one glaringly overgrown piece.
He had slept some after retiring to bed, but dutifully rose before dawn as usual. He busied himself with minor tasks throughout the greenhouse while considering his approach to Harry's discipline.
Despite his displeasure about having to enforce the consequences for breaking the house rules, Harry's destructive outburst last night had more than solidified his resolve.
As it stood, Snape possessed an exceptionally low tolerance for ignorance, insolence, and disrespect and would act accordingly to curb these behaviors in students. In very, very, selective circumstances, he would force himself to show leniency. Unbridled loss of control, though? Absolutely not. That was a grievance Snape would never allow to go unpunished.
Having been taught emotional stability during his own adolescence, he was unwavering in his goal to pass on that strength to Harry by the end of the summer.
As Snape moved to the front of the greenhouse, he paused at the sound of faint knocking on the wooden door as it filled the hushed plant covered space. Snape glanced up to the strong rafters supporting the roof of the greenhouse and drew in a quick, sharp breath.
"Come in, Potter," he said, loud enough for Harry to hear, though his tone remained low and calm.
Harry peered wearily into the tidy, well manicured garden space. His sleepy emerald eyes matched the green hue of the flourishing life around him as he cast an apprehensive glance at Snape. His hair was a moppy brown mess and faint dark circles encompassed his slightly swollen eyes.
"Good morning," Harry said softly as he slid into the entryway and carefully shut the wooden door behind him. He fidgeted slightly, crossing one arm over to grab hold of the other.
Snape gave a slight nod, turning to water a weblike plant.
"So it is. How are you faring?" Snape asked, casting Harry with a neutral sidelong glance.
"Uh, not fantastic," Harry admitted, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his stinging eyes. The tears from last night left a residual dryness.
Snape inhaled a small breath, and set his watering can down. "You know my sentiments for vague responses, Potter. Physically speaking, how are you? I recommend you be specific this time."
Harry held back the urge to roll his eyes.
Surely, at least once in Snape's structured, cold, and lonely life, he had experienced a hangover.
"My head is pounding," Harry quipped, frowning up at Snape, "and my stomach hurts."
Snape nodded, glancing around the garden beds for a final, quick inspection.
"Very well," he replied after a moment, walking a few paces closer to Harry, "Feeling particularly sensitive to sound or light?"
Harry squinted his eyes a bit and shoved his hands in his pockets, "My room was bright this morning, I guess."
Snape hummed low, his expression remaining stern.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he withdrew his wand. And before Harry could react, the potions master pointed it directly to the right of the young wizard and incanted, "Bombarda."
Harry jumped as the wand shot out the deafening spell. His heart skipped a sudden beat, and he involuntarily took a step back, his body tensing with surprise.
The spell cracked loudly, and the sharp explosion of frying paper filled up the space, as the magical shot zapped a remnant of an old garden bag to Harry's left-hand side.
"Blimey!" Harry gasped as he flinched, his hands instinctively moving to cover his ears. "What in the bloody hell are you doing?"
He didn't mean to sound so snippy, but his tone came out as sharp as a razor's edge. That loud zap had certainly not helped his pounding headache.
Snape narrowed his gaze, "I would advise you to be cautious with your temperament this morning, Potter. Your current predicament leaves little room for further missteps."
Harry's initial shot of adrenaline simmered, but his frustration only mounted. He crossed his arms, leveling Snape with a defensive glare. "Oh, well, my sincerest apologies, Professor.I suppose you forgot that most normal people startle when shot at."
With a low, contemplative hum, Snape approached the flustered young man. His muted steps hitting the greenhouse ground with determined force.
Harry instantly caught the glimmer of frustration in his eyes and swallowed. Oh, hell, Harry thought, instinctively backing up.
"Astounding really, that after last night's antics you refuse to express yourself with a modicum of respect." Snape shot in a low, near whisper.
When he reached Harry, his potion stained fingers wrapped firmly around the young wizard's arm making him wince.
Snape effortlessly turned him to the side, prompting Harry's anger to melt into trepidation, like hot coals doused in icy water.
Why do I always do this? Harry thought, feeling the hot bolt of trepidation shoot up through his stomach as Snape's strong hand squeezed his bicep.
"Bend forward," Snape said, tapping the front of Harry's hip with his wand.
Harry swallowed hard, he wanted to protest but self preservation beckoned him to obey.
Snape assisted in the process: pulling Harry's bicep down and forward, instantly forcing him into a semi-bow. Harry cringed at the way the position presented his bum. He rested his hands on his knees and tucked his head down— sucking in a quick breath. His head thudded wildly at movement.
Snape released Harry's bicep and wrapped his left arm around the boy's hip, firmly pulling him in close to his side. He tapped his wand a few firm times on Harry's bum, eliciting a flinch from Harry as the boy held his breath.
With precision, Snape pulled his arm back and down in a steady succession of smacks, administering ten hard flicks to Harry's trouser clad backside.
Harry grimaced, pinching his eyes shut as the firm cracks struck his bum. He emitted a barely audible moan, trying hard to take it silently.
"Consider this a preliminary reminder, Potter," Snape said, slow and firm after he concluded the last smack, "that actions in this household have consequences." He then gave Harry's hip a reprimanding squeeze before pulling the boy back upright and releasing him.
Harry's cheeks burned crimson, his voice now submissive and faint as he replied, "Yes, sir."
Snape merely nodded in response, turning to walk to the wooden door.
Harry wanted to die already, and that little smacking was nothing. Today's going to be dreadful, he thought to himself, trying hard not to focus on the sharp stinging sensation lingering across his bum.
Snape opened the door to the greenhouse after retrieving the charcoal burnt paper. He tossed the blackened remnants in a silver garbage bin to the left of the entryway.
"The incantation was to test your sensitivity to abrupt sound," Snape said, his tone calm and neutral, as he closed the door to the greenhouse and turned back to face Harry. "The potion you consumed earlier this morning may, at times, cause a crippling reaction to loud noise or extreme sensitivity to light four to five hours after consumption."
"Oh," Harry said, slipping his hands into his back pockets, unconsciously rubbing the sting in his bum through his trousers, "I guess I'm okay then."
Snape nodded, clasping his hands and leaning ever so slightly back against the door, "It would seem so."
An uncomfortable silence enveloped the greenhouse, the air heavy and charged with renewed tension. Harry's emerald eyes fell from Snape's dark ones, letting his gaze traverse the lush foliage that produced a symphony of greens and the occasional burst of colorful blossoms.
Snape, his expression an unreadable mask of curiosity and scrutiny, continued to watch Harry closely.
Harry drew in a deep breath and forced himself to look back into Snape's deep, penetrating gaze.
"Look, I know I messed up last night, and truly I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening with genuine remorse. He pulled his hands out of his pockets and let them fall to his side.
Snape nodded, allowing the silence to stretch out for a moment more. He then pushed himself upright, walking slowly up to the condemned young man.
Harry swallowed, his heart fluttering some as Snape came closer.
"I trust you've comprehended the consequences of your actions," Snape began, "however, before we proceed to your punishments, are you quite certain this living arrangement still suits you?"
Harry's head shot up abruptly, his expression falling despite the sting in his bum. Was Snape already kicking him out?
He had wondered last night if this was coming.
Lying in his bed, mentally and physically drained after the drunken, emotional turmoil of the evening, Harry had pondered his circumstances. He had stared out at the night through the circular window, wondering whether Snape would still be willing to share their living space after the series of mishaps that had transpired.
"If you don't want me to stay anymore, Professor Snape, I understand…" Harry's voice wavered, but he forced an apologetic smile to mask the hurt that threatened to spill over.
He trailed off when Snape slightly shook his head and held up a halting hand.
"That is not what I am implying," Snape replied, his expression firm.
"Though I am far from pleased with your behavior last night, Potter," he said with a no-nonsense tone, "I merely want you to understand that, despite it, I am capable of assisting you in finding an alternative option should you choose not to submit to the impending discipline."
Harry nodded, yeah, he knew that. Despite the torrent of trepidation he'd experienced at facing Snape's wrath for disobedience, he hadn't even considered looking for another place to live. Perhaps Snape wanted him too though.
Did I really push it that far? Harry wondered, feeling a swell of rejection wrap its familiar arms around him.
Noticing the tight expression on Harry's face, Snape moved a few steps closer, closing the distance between them.
"My chosen method of discipline is not conventional, nor particularly easy to endure at your age," Snape stated matter-of-factly. "I simply want to make it abundantly clear that I would not fault you for deciding that this living arrangement does not align with your growth and development."
The tension in Harry's shoulders relaxed some, and his downcast eyes looked back up to Snape's authoritative dark ones. Snape hesitated for a minute, then pulled his calloused hand up to Harry's thin shoulder.
"Aside from your behavior last night," he began, his voice softening slightly, "I've appreciated having you here the last few days, perhaps more than I let on."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, feeling more assured. While he didn't want to submit to another spanking, for some reason, moving out to live alone sounded far worse than facing Snape's displeasure. He also felt a small amount of comfort at the unexpected touch Snape offered, it was nice to feel the tension in the air fade a little.
"Thanks, Professor Snape. I like living here," Harry said quietly, offering an apologetic smile at the mention of his behavior.
"I know you handle um…discipline differently," Harry fought hard to keep the warm, cherry red color from overwhelming his face, "I'm okay with it though, it's not all that bad."
Snape raised an eyebrow at Harry's admission. Was this not the young wizard whom he fought to disrobe and bend over his knee for punishment, only days prior?
And while Harry knew that 'not all that bad' wasn't entirely accurate, he felt safe with Snape. He liked him, despite their mountain of differences and torrent history. The stinging sensation from moments ago had already begun to subside, easing Harry's nervousness about the forthcoming discipline.
Harry knew from his previous experience that Snape's method of spanking didn't involve exceptionally forceful strikes. Instead, Snape opted for a measured and controlled approach, which made it far more bearable than the infrequent lashings he'd endured from his uncle, Vernon.
The pain Snape administered was sharp, yes, and it certainly had made him writhe and cry; but it was somehow different. It was a more precise ache that, while intense, didn't evoke the same gut-wrenching fear as his uncle's drunken whippings had.
Harry had never encountered such thorough discipline – or experienced such swift relief— as he did at the hands of Severus Snape.
Pulling Harry from his thoughts, Snape responded with a curt nod; releasing the young wizard's shoulder and moving forward.
"Very well. Come with me," Snape directed as he turned and led the way out of the greenhouse, sliding his wand back into his pocket.
Harry moved to follow behind, realizing it was one of the first times he'd seen Professor Snape without a billowing cloak. Today, the Potions Master was clad only in an ebony cardigan sweater and deep, green trousers. Both garments were so pristinely kept, they could hardly pass as casual wear. Yet, without his flowing cloak and robes, Professor Snape seemed… well, casual.
Snape walked briskly, his elbows slightly bent and his hands tucked deep into his trouser pockets.
Harry bit his lower lip and sucked in a trembling breath. In truth, he wasn't ready for his spanking yet— especially with his head still pounding. But, if Snape wanted to do it now, he wouldn't resist. He knew he deserved it after the night he put the man through.
Snape motioned for Harry to hurry up as he held the door open for him.
Harry focused on keeping his breathing measured and calm. It's just a smacking, I can handle it, he told himself, fighting embarrassment as he stepped through the open doorway and into the blinding morning light.
Harry closed his eyes slightly as the sunlight intensified his pounding headache.
He was taken aback when Snape didn't lead towards the house but instead walked in the opposite direction, heading to the potions storage.
"You should know, Potter," Snape said over his shoulder, his tone as cool as ever, "though I may not be one for emotional displays now, I had my share of them at your age."
Harry looked up at Snape, intrigued and a bit apprehensive, as he hurried to catch up.
"Really?" Harry asked, sliding his hands into his own pockets as he caught up, standing closely beside Snape.
"Indeed," Snape replied, his sharp eyes remained fixed on the narrow dirt path extending ahead of them.
He ushered Harry along, returning to slow and measured strides. With each step, the earth crunched softly beneath their shoes, creating a rhythmic cadence that matched their unhurried progress.
"During my seventh year at Hogwarts, there was a terrible occasion when I permitted my emotions to triumph over reason," Snape said, his gaze fixed upon the landscape of the backyard.
Despite Harry's horrible headache, he perked up.Oh, right! He thought, remembering their conversation from a few nights prior. He had been so consumed with his time spent with Ron, and his grief, that he had almost forgotten Snape's mention of his own encounters in the Headmaster's office.
"What happened?" Harry asked, looking intently at Snape's unreadable face.
Snape maintained his unwavering gaze ahead, his breathing controlled but tinged with a subtle unease. The sound of their footsteps on the gravel punctuated the morning stillness, making him acutely aware that he had never divulged this particular incident to anyone.
In fact, he had scarcely revealed any personal experiences related to corporal punishment to another person, let alone a student. He fought to keep his composure, resolute in his determination to contain the memory for Harry's benefit.
"I had a reputation for my fascination with the Dark Arts," Snape stated, his voice carrying a hint of modesty. "One particular day, a peer challenged me to a duel on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and I, foolishly, accepted."
Harry's mind whirled with intrigue. For so long, he had known Professor Snape as the stern, seemingly unshakable Potions Master, but the image of a young Severus Snape, brash and daring, dueling on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, was almost too much to comprehend.
"What happened? Did you win?" Harry asked, nearly too quickly.
"No," Snape lied, knowing he had most definitely won, but at a terrible price.
Harry continued to stare wide eyed at Snape, hanging on his every word as they walked along the dirt path, growing closer to the potions storage.
"I didn't abide by the set rules more upstanding Slytherins had established," Snape continued, his expression ever so slightly revealing the haunting memories of that fateful evening. "In an effort to make up for our insolence for holding the forbidden duel, it was agreed-upon that neither participants would be allowed to cast a dark curse. However, after a rather cutting comment from my opponent, I let my emotions take control and blatantly disregarded that stipulation."
Harry took in a quick, small breath. "What curse did you cast?" he asked.
Snape sighed, his expression momentarily clouded with regret, though he quickly composed himself.
"Sectumsempra," He admitted, a touch quieter than before.
Harry gasped. The words hit him like a hex, conjuring a sudden, vivid memory of his own dark encounter with that very spell. He remembered the way Snape looked at him, a mixture of anger, shock, and disappointment, when Harry himself had unknowingly struck Draco with the same curse.
Harry's face twisted in a grimace as he recalled the gruesome scene in the bathroom. The image of Draco lying there, motionless, with the bloody gashes slicing through his chest and abdomen, etched in his memory like stone markings.
A shudder coursed through Harry's body, and he shook his head to dispel the haunting images.
"What happened next?" He asked Snape, trying to push past his own guilt and learn more about that fateful event.
Snape paused at the entrance to the potions storage. "I left the duel, abandoning my opponent to writhe on the forest floor."
Harry dropped his mouth open in shock.
"Wait here," Snape instructed, disappearing into the stone building.
Harry said nothing as he watched Snape vanish behind the door.
He too had left Draco after casting the curse, but only did so after Snape had appeared, sweeping into the flooded bathroom like an angry black bat. Harry had known Snape would save the lacerated blonde, and he merely left due to the panic that had overtaken his senses.
In contrast, there was presumably no one to help Snape's dueling partner. Which was a gut wrenching thought.
Harry had anticipated that Snape's past was shrouded in regrettable moments, knowing his history as a Death Eater. But for some reason, Harry couldn't fathom the idea of the skinny teen he'd seen, hanging upside down in the tree above his father, hitting a student with such a vicious curse and leaving him there to suffer.
Snape reappeared momentarily with a blue vial of potion. Harry instantly felt a flutter of trepidation in his chest as he glanced down at it, distracting him from Snape's story.
"What's that for?" Harry asked, crossing his arms and motioning down to the vial.
"Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't dream of robbing you of nature's consequences to overindulgence," Snape said slowly, "However, given your rather uncomfortable, impending discipline, you may take this to relieve your head and stomach ache, if you wish."
Harry was stunned by the gesture, especially after he'd anticipated a far harder morning with Snape.
After all, he had smashed the dowel to pieces last night and puked on the man, yet instead of immediately receiving discipline, he was getting an anticipated story and a healing potion. What was happening?
"Well… thank you," Harry said, taking the vial. He popped the cork off the glass and chugged it fast.
To his surprise, this potion wasn't half bad, though it still left a pungent earthly taste in his mouth.
Harry handed the vial back to Snape, who accepted it with a curt nod and disappeared back into his potions storage again.
Harry felt a wave of relief as soft tendrils of magic pulled the sharp pains in his head and stomach away. Snape had all sorts of fantastic potions up his sleeve, making Harry wish he had more freedom to explore them. He briefly thought of Ron again and the sleeping draughts Snape possessed.
Interrupting him from his thoughts, Snape returned and motioned for Harry to follow him.
"So, um," Harry began as they made their way back toward the greenhouse, "what happened to your classmate?"
Snape hummed low, focusing on the scenery in front of them.
"He survived. Though, not without some unfortunate side effects, given the time it took for assistance to arrive." Snape admitted, tensing his shoulders ever so slightly.
Harry didn't know quite what to say at first. He wanted to press for more information, but also didn't want to upset Snape, so a pause hung in the cool morning air until he could gather his approach.
"Poor bloke… I imagine Dumbledore was not pleased," Harry finally said, looking up at Snape tentatively.
Snape cast a brief, calculating glance at Harry, "Indeed. His displeasure was challenging to endure; however, he was exceedingly gracious to keep his punishment to the extent he did. I should have been expelled immediately," Snape replied, slowly clasping his hands behind his back.
"Why weren't you?" Harry asked, though he had an idea after spending much time with Dumbledore.
"I suppose the Headmaster foresaw the darkness in my future," Snape admitted, pausing to take a slight breath.
Harry nodded, feeling a twinge of sadness envelope him.
"He wanted to keep an eye on me, I presume, for the last year," Snape finished, and his eyes grew blank as they traversed the flourishing spring landscape.
"Sounds like him," Harry said with a small smile on his cold lips.
Harry could linger in grief if he allowed himself, as any mention of Dumbledore brought with it an onslaught of mixed emotions.
Instead though, he considered the consequences Snape had faced for the forbidden duel.
For some reason, a warm flush crept into Harry's cheeks. He could hardly believe Snape was opening up about this part of his past; and while his curiosity prodded him to press for more details, he also felt a gnawing awkwardness, making him hesitant to ask for specifics.
"Um," Harry started, licking his lips and glancing to the greenhouse, "Was Dumbledor the only one who… punished you?"
Snape kept his eyes trained on the scenery, his mind dwelling on the memories of that fateful day, "The Headmaster's displeasure was severe, but no, it wasn't the only consequence of my actions during that time."
When they arrived at the greenhouse, Snape shut the wooden door with a soft click and cast a locking spell over it. He then gestured for Harry to accompany him up the dirt path to the house.
As they turned to walk back, Harry's curiosity about Snape's past gnawed at him like an itch he couldn't resist scratching. He felt a growing sense of embarrassment at his curiosity surrounding the details of Snape's punishments, as if he were prying into a part of Snape's life he had no business knowing about— despite being subjected to the same form of correction by the man. Still though, Harry couldn't suppress the urge to understand better.
"Um," Harry hesitated, his cheeks flushing slightly with self-consciousness, "what else… happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
Understanding that Harry's inquisitiveness wasn't to be thwarted, Snape sighed softly.
"Professor Slughorn," Snape paused to clear his throat, "my Head of House, gave me an additional paddling during one of many detentions spent in his classroom. He was rather disappointed in me for delving into dark magic, as you can imagine."
Harry was stunned, he felt a pang of empathy for Snape despite the severity of his actions; getting into trouble with both sounded awful. "I'm sorry to hear that," he responded softly. "So Dumbledore… paddled you too, then? Did it happen the same day?"
"Indeed, he did. Yes, the day after the incident." Snape looked back down to Harry, forcing himself not to feel threatened by the boy's natural questions.
"That sounds awful," Harry said, not bothering to keep the grimace out of his features.
Snape hesitated, a sense of profound discomfort surfacing as he contemplated sharing the next part. "Yes, well, even combined, they were nowhere near as dreadful as the consequences I faced when my father received notice of my misbehavior. As you might suspect, he bothered not with a letter or howler to express his displeasure," Snape said, trailing off momentarily as the pair reached the back door to the house.
"What did he do?" Harry asked, leaning in a bit closer to Snape as the pair stopped.
"I was summoned home for punishment," Snape continued, though his demeanor hardly shifted, Harry noticed the way his fingers seemed to twitch. "My father was not a kind man, Potter."
"Did he, um, beat you?" Harry asked softly, surprising not only Snape with the question but himself as well— not having a clue where his nerve came from.
Snape hummed low. "Indeed, in a traditional sense. My father always took a rather unorthodox approach to discipline that was physically challenging for me to withstand." Snape took in a small breath before continuing, "The moment I returned home, he caned me severely for my foolishness. Then proceeded to express his displeasure in the same manner throughout the week."
Harry was shocked, and he couldn't help but feel deep sympathy for Snape. Facing smackings from the Headmaster, his Head of House, and then returning home to a whole week with his aggressive father must have been a harrowing experience, no matter how grave his infraction was.
"That's terrible," Harry said, his voice filled with compassion.
"I certainly didn't agree with my father's approach, given that the punishment left me… debilitated for some time before my return back," Snape said dismissively, though Harry caught his tone wavering ever so slightly.
"However, I undoubtedly deserved the punishments from my Head of House and the Headmaster. I credit their rather stern intervention and meaningful disciplinary discussions to an otherwise successful year." Snape said calmly, a sense of strength clear in his voice.
"Still sounds awful," Harry replied, grimacing at the thought.
Snape nodded, a hint of nostalgia and pain in his eyes.
"Yes, well, proper discipline is hardly an enjoyable experience." He said plainly.
In that moment, the weight of his past experiences hung heavily in the air, creating an unexpected bond of understanding between him and Harry.
These were aspects of his life that he rarely shared, but he believed it was important for Harry to comprehend before the lesson he was about to teach him.
"Back in my classroom, you mentioned your own experiences with unbridled discipline at the hands of your uncle, correct?" Snape asked Harry, pausing to face the young man.
Despite the vulnerability Snape felt at his previous admission, and the discomfort with this entire conversation, he masked it with ease. Coming off clear and calm.
Harry nodded, meeting Snape's eyes with a new sense of connection at the semi-shared experience.
"Yes, my uncle would drink and come after me," Harry replied, "It wasn't near as bad as what you endured though, he was a large man and didn't have the steam to go for too long."
Snape paused, his expression firm. "Nonsense. You should never have been subjected to physical correction administered out of unchecked anger. It is regrettable that such instances transpired in your life."
Harry lifted his brows and gave a small smile. Oddly enough, it was nice to have Snape acknowledge that.
Harry nodded, "Thanks."
Drawing a slight breath in, Snape momentarily clasped his hands in front of his waist.
"I am here for you if you would ever like to discuss those experiences and need a guiding hand." Snape offered quietly.
As Snape extended his support, Harry felt a long-held weight seem to fall from his shoulders.
A small, comfortable moment of silence enveloped them in the spring dawn, making Harry wonder if perhaps this was the side of Professor Snape his mother had cared for when she was young. Snape seemed strong and supportive, despite his quiet and stern presence.
"I appreciate that, Professor Snape." Harry said, the warmth in his tone undeniable.
Snape gave a curt nod and pulled the creaking metal screen open, "After you," he said, motioning for Harry to lead the way inside.
Harry stepped inside the house with a sense of gratitude for the unexpected support he had just received. A private weight of his past seemed to momentarily lift from his shoulders.
He appreciated Snape's willingness to listen, to share his own experiences, and to be there for him. The warmth in his heart was undeniable, and for the first time, he felt a connection to his professor that extended beyond the intimacy of discipline.