[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.
Chapter 27: Fairy Wings
Soon after crossing the threshold to the home, Harry and Snape made their way to the dimly lit kitchen.
Stepping into the pantry, Snape pulled on the cord of a singular lightbulb, illuminating the space in an orange glow with a soft click. He then moved toward the back corner of the storage space to locate an item he'd purchased on his last trip to Diagon Alley.
"It's rather late," Snape said over his shoulder. "Feeling tired?"
Harry's emerald gaze wandered up to the billowing swirls of lavender in the pantry, he tucked his hands into the depths of his trouser pockets and looked back over to Snape.
"Not particularly," Harry said, "are you going to bed soon?"
A small clink reverberated through the pantry as Snape snatched up the bottle he was searching for.
"No," he replied. "I will be venturing to my storage to labor on an experimental sleeping draught."
Harry felt his stomach clench at the words, watching Snape pull down a tall, dark bottle from the top shelf.
Snape didn't know, right? No, he wouldn't have done all that in the rain if he knew. Harry reassured himself, watching Snape move to the cabinet that housed the glassware, bottle in hand.
"You may come assist if you'd like," Snape said, palming his way through the clinking glass cabinet. "Permitting you're not too tired and can handle the delicate ingredients without haphazardly sending the building up in flames."
Harry rolled his eyes at the customary jab but smiled to himself, leaning casually against the counter. If anyone would have told him six months ago he'd be in Snape's kitchen getting an invite to help brew a personal potion in his storage Harry would have laughed at the absurdity.
"Sure, so long as you don't turn it into a pop quiz on potion-making etiquette." Harry quipped, watching curiously as Snape took down two short glasses from the cabinet.
Snape gave a soft scoff but shot back with, "I'd rather save a tree and my ink. Grading your incompetence in real time shall suffice."
Harry smirked and rolled his eyes.
"Tea tends to cool fast in the building so I often have a glass or two of this," Snape said, extending the bottle out and motioning for Harry to take it.
Harry pulled it gingerly from his grasp then slid his thumb over the slick label on the side, it read: Serpent's Sip Reserve. The picture on the front showcased a glittering black snake curled around the edge of a small glass, its fangs bearing down into a pale blue ice cube dunked in the mahogany hued liquid.
"Huh," Harry said as he popped the cork on the top of the bottle and smelt the liquor. He scrunched his nose up at the overpowering scent, but gave a little nod. There was a faint note of smoky oak with a small trace of what Harry perceived to be cherry lingering.
Snape popped open the freezer and withdrew a fairly large ice cube mold. With casual precision he peeled the mold back and pulled a square of ice out, it hit the bottom of his short glass with a small clink.
"Would you like to try it?" He asked without looking up.
Harry glanced over, watching Snape scour the fridge in search of another item.
"Yeah. Thanks, sir." Harry smiled and set the bottle down next to the glasses. He peered at the fizzing container of liquid Snape withdrew from the fridge. "I'm, er, a bit surprised you're offering me a drink after… you know."
Snape set the container down and picked up the glass without an ice cube.
"Permitting the railings on my staircase stay intact this evening, I don't see any reason to forbid you from drinking responsibly."
Harry felt a bit of heat creep up his ears at the mention of it all but gave a small, grateful nod.
"My educated guess would be that whiskey doesn't align with the preferences of you and your companions. I presume you lean towards the sugary indulgence of beverages such as the universally loathed butterbeer, correct?"
Harry rolled his eyes, "I like fire whiskey."
"You sip on it?" Snape asked, eyeing Harry with a dark look that he could only speculate was one of mild amusement.
"Er, no," Harry admitted, glancing down at the glasses. "We toss it back."
"How unsurprising," Snape said casually, he poured a small amount of liquor into Harry's glass and extended it out to him. "This is meant to be savored, it's far too expensive to be downed in one shot."
Harry nodded as he took the glass, he swirled it around then swallowed the sip. It was incredibly smooth and the quality was certainly noticeable but he couldn't help but gag a bit.
"Merlin," Harry coughed, the burn of the alcohol warming his mouth, "that's rather strong."
Snape gave him a wry smile and took the glass back. He pulled the fizzing container up and poured out a fourth of it into Harry's glass then added a bit more liquor.
"Here, a slight modification for your youthful palate." Snape said, handing the glass back to him. "Try it this way."
Harry took a cautious sip, savoring the rich blend of flavors that danced on his tongue. The expensive whiskey unfolded with nuanced notes of dried cherry, the subtle warmth of smoky oak, and a lingering touch of vanilla, blended together with an unexpected sweetness from the carbonated liquid. A pleasant surprise lit up his eyes as he savored the newfound delight.
"What's that you added in?" Harry asked, genuinely intrigued by the complexity in the drink. "I like it."
"A mixer." Snape said, taking Harry's glass back. He carefully filled it with one part liquor to two parts of the carbonated liquid. "Similar to a muggle fizzy drink."
Harry felt a twinge of dismay that the liquor had to be sweetened for him to enjoy it. He would have preferred sipping it over ice like Snape, finding it more mature, but the thought of consuming it without a grimace was beyond him.
Harry took the prepped glass and followed Snape out to the back door. The rain had eased but it was still pouring forth with a delicate dance of thumps against the wet earth. Snape grabbed an umbrella stashed in a small utility closet to the right of the back screen door. He wordlessly handed Harry his glass of whiskey as they stepped outside. He then slid open the large dark shield against the rain and pulled Harry close, keeping him tight by his side under the shelter.
They made it to the potion storage quickly. Snape ushered Harry in first, then collapsed the umbrella with a swift pull.
The cold, damp area was filled with shelves bearing an array of ghastly ingredients, set against a soft contrast of herbs and dried plants. Harry's emerald eyes swept across the collection, lingering on cloudy vials containing rare scales that glittered beneath the waning candlelight. Nearby, rancid bobbing creatures floated in a vat of thick liquid, with other strange specimens suspended in the dark potions nearby, creating an eerie yet intriguing atmosphere.
Harry set Snape's glass down on the center of the wooden table and walked to the back shelf hanging on the wall of gray stone. He felt a heavy weight descend upon his shoulders as he subtly glanced around for the area where Snape kept the sleeping draughts. Bloody hell, he wished Ron never asked him to do this. Maybe he should've let him steal them alone, at least then Snape wouldn't assume he was comfortable breaking the fragile trust they'd established over the last few weeks.
His emerald eyes reflected the small glow of a burning candle, waning in a slow drip. His gaze swept down shelf after shelf, searching with a sharp intensity. Nothing looked like a sleeping draught. Maybe he doesn't have any?
"Looking for something specific?" Snape said in his low, silky tone nearly making Harry jump. He was so far lost in his thoughts he momentarily forgot Snape had come in with him.
"A-ah no, just familiarizing myself with all this." Harry said, taking a long swig of his drink.
Snape eyed him quietly then gave a slow nod.
"We won't be using any ingredients from this end, come along."
Harry obeyed, forcing his thoughts of stealing far away as he took another thick sip of his drink.
Together they set up a cauldron, lit a few candles, and collected the various ingredients for the sleeping draught. The rain poured softly on the roof of the building, filling the space with a comforting deluge of the alternating pitter-patters.
Regardless of the warm flush the whiskey had brought him, Harry felt slightly unnerved at the chance of making a sleeping draught with Snape. Considering the Potion Master's extensive history as a spy, he couldn't quite shake the thought that Snape might somehow be aware of his plan, biding his time before unleashing the fury upon him which he so thoroughly deserved.
Yet, their conversation didn't seem to elude it as they worked together in the hum of the storm.
"Just a moment," Snape said sharply, "don't add that yet."
Harry furrowed his brow and paused, his hand hovering above the bubbling cauldron. He watched as Snape picked up the container of powdered Asphodel petals and added a bit more.
"Messing with the potion guidelines?" Harry asked, his tone drenched in a light tease. "Better be careful, Snape. I wouldn't want you to be the one to engulf this place in flames and deprive yourself of my stellar assistance."
The glare that came over Snape's dark features made Harry grin.
"As I recall," he said slowly, prying Harry's hand open to take out two of the lavender sprigs from his clenched palm. "Your stellar potion skills in sixth year emerged only after you discovered the meticulous additions of a certain copy of one Advanced Potions text."
Harry felt the faintest blush creep up his neck as he glanced down at the bubbling cauldron, a cheeky smile still plastered to his face.
"Not a single combination in those margins paved the path for a display in pyrotechnics." Snape added, motioning for Harry to set down the remaining lavender in his palm.
"Right," Harry said quietly, taking another sip of his drink. A flash of a thought suddenly trailed across his mind. "You read my mind in the flooded bathroom that day, didn't you? You saw your book— knew I had it."
Snape raised a brow at Harry, giving him a knowing look but refraining from a comment as he stirred the potion slowly. 'Read my mind,' Snape internally scolded the phrase. Harry's affinity for attributing the talent of Legilimency to a fictional muggle concept had never ceased to annoy him.
"Did you know I switched my copy with Ron's, after you told me to bring my bag down to you?" Harry asked, dropping his green eyes to the spiraling potion.
Humming low, Snape pulled the stirring stick out and gave it a few light taps against the side of the cauldron.
"No idea," Snape said, his voice laced with the familiar low toned sarcasm. "'Roonil Wazlib' could have been any red headed student with a poor attention span."
Harry chuckled at that and Snape took a lengthy sip of his drink. A soft silence settled in the room as the pair gazed into the swirling cauldron. The rain descending upon the stone roof eased some, thumping across the top of the building with a slow rhythm. Harry breathed in deeply, the scent of herbal undertones, bitter potions and smoky fumes encompassing him held an ominous familiarity. It was like being in Snape's classroom again, except this time, Harry wanted to stay as long as he could.
"Say, er, if I had been in Slytherin…" Harry started, trailing off when he caught a certain look from Snape.
"I'm not entirely sure you'd like to know how I would've handled that incident had your fate rested with me." Snape said, eyeing Harry with a stern expression.
Harry sucked in a little breath, grateful for the liquor laced warmth in his chest that seemed to take his discomfort around the subject away.
"For the sake of my curiosity—"
"Which is insufferable." Snape chided, stepping around Harry to locate another ingredient.
"How bad would it have been?" Harry finished, watching Snape move with swift precision to the other side of the space.
Snape didn't say anything for a moment, glancing around the shelves with a dark flicker of contemplation. He snatched his collection of vibrant blue and violet fairy wings then turned to give Harry a serious glance.
"I'm not certain it's wise to dwell on the past with a hypothetical lens." Snape said slowly, moving back to the table.
"Why not play along? It's not as if what you say is gonna bother me at this point," Harry said with an air of assurance that Snape didn't quite buy.
"Very well." Snape said after a lengthy pause. "I would have caned you severely for that infraction in addition to your slew of detentions with me."
"Really?" Harry said a bit quieter, his stomach dropping, watching as Snape set the jar down next to him.
"Indeed." Snape confirmed, unscrewing the lid and carefully withdrawing a shimmering fairy wing.
Harry swallowed, thankful once more that McGonagall had been his Head of House at the time.
"Would you have also given me the, um, evening punishments?" Harry asked, watching as Snape delicately set the fairy wing into a stone bowl.
"Possibly," Snape replied, moving to grab a stone to grind down the wing. "It would have depended on if you had bruised or not."
"You would have bruised me?" Harry said, a bit shocked at the revelation.
"It's rare to walk away from a proper caning without some lingering blemishes." Snape confirmed, speaking candidly as if giving instructions to brew a potion. "Even when applied with reasonable force there's still a possibility of it. Welts are nearly inevitable either way."
The seeming lack of emotion around something so severe bristled Harry a touch, making him feel a bit more on edge despite the relaxation his drink had coated him with.
"Right," Harry said a bit sharper. "I guess that would have made sense considering how you felt about me back then."
Snape shot his brows up at the abrupt shift in tone, then carefully set his stone down.
"You do realize in your infinite wisdom that Draco nearly died from that incident, yes? To this day he bears the scars, those of which will never heal."
Harry glanced away, suddenly not only remembering Draco, but how Snape had been sent home for a week of whippings at the hands of his abusive father for casting the very same curse; not to mention being paddled by Dumbledore and Slughorn before he left. Of course Snape would have caned him back then, it would have been far less cruel than what he went through, Harry silently reasoned.
Snape let out a slight sigh, "Before you dig yourself a grave with me in the present moment, it would serve you well to remember this is a hypothetical situation, one of which you inquired about. I can't say that, at the time, I would've been nearly as concerned with the impact of your punishment considering the circumstances."
Letting out a deep sigh, Harry dragged his hand over his face and nodded.
"Right, er, I'm sorry I got cross. That's understandable."
Snape gave a slow nod, he picked up the stone and hovered above the fairy wing but paused to say his next words while holding Harry's gaze.
"However," Snape paused for a moment, contemplating his next words. "It may put your mind at ease to know I will not be caning you for any infractions during your stay this summer." Snape said.
Harry felt a sense of relief flood his chest.
"Are you sure? Not even if I did something awful?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.
"Define awful." Snape replied, raising a suspicious brow.
"I don't know…" Harry said, trailing off. "If I did something that really upset you, are you sure you wouldn't? You threatened me and Draco with it after the fight."
"So I did," Snape said, taking in a slight breath as he ground the fairy's wing into a glittering dust. "Though I threatened it at the time, no, I don't believe I would still cane you, even if you did something I deemed particularly awful."
"Why?" Harry asked, wishing he had a second drink. "Why back at school and not now?"
Snape let a moment of silence hang in the musty air, his stone grated sharply against the base of the bowl echoing in the stillness as he finished pulverizing the fairy wing.
"During our time at Hogwarts I kept many of my personal sentiments on the severity of discipline… concealed. I don't believe I could maintain the same detachment needed to administer such a severe punishment to you now."
Harry thought on that for a moment, tilting his glass back and forth, watching the large ice cube melt in a slippery swirl.
"Does it make you upset to punish me?" Harry soon asked, a softness now interlacing his words.
For some reason or other, Harry hadn't considered that Snape might feel distressed while disciplining him. In all his trips over the man's lap, never once had he appeared emotionally disrupted by the action, only resolved to it. While Snape had looked disappointed the last few times he smacked him— that much was obvious— the idea of him being 'upset' or 'emotional' while delivering the punishment had never crossed Harry's mind until this quiet moment.
A million and one sarcastic barbs came to Snape's mind, ready to deflect the vulnerable turn the conversation had taken. However, he forced himself to maintain the seriousness such a conversation warranted.
"It is a challenge, no doubt," Snape said, setting the stone down with a thud.
"How come?" Harry pushed to know, his curiosity toeing the line.
Snape glanced away for a moment, the truth bombarding his thoughts. Because when you cry I see your mother's eyes in distress. I feel as though I have no right to correct you for poor behavior after treating you miserably for so long when you needed support the most. I hate seeing you fidget with concern over the pain I'm about to inflict even if I deem your behavior as befitting for such a consequence. This entire approach to discipline has, for the first time, felt increasingly difficult to follow through with and I haven't the faintest clue why now I feel this way and not then, not with my other students.
Snape let out a small scoff, deflection clawing its way back in as he met Harry's emerald gaze.
"Because, Harry, punishing you is akin to attempting to brew a potion without precise measurements – it's a bit unpredictable and prone to explosive results that just may have you tumbling off my lap. It's an endeavor that requires finesse beyond the scope of even my resolve at times."
Harry smiled a little at that and glanced back down to his glass of melted ice. A strange comfort came over him at the thought of Snape actually feeling a bit bad for doling out discipline, even if he deserved it.
"That was just once," Harry said sheepishly, "I've done alright with the, um, others."
"So you have." Snape said, though the response was short, his tone was warm, making Harry feel a degree of comfort.
Merlin, I don't want to steal from him. Harry thought as he stared down at the watery chunk of ice. He's never going to let me come in here again if I do.
"Why are you adding in fairy wings?" Harry soon asked, shoving away his distress. His green eyes watched the glittering dust drift softly down into the bubbling cauldron from Snape's potion stained fingertips.
"Well now, let's put your memory from my lectures to the test, shall we?" Snape remarked, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the frown tugging down the corners of Harry's usual grin. "Tell me, which prominent potion features the inclusion of fairy wings?"
"Uhhm," Harry hummed, shifting the nearly melted ice cube around his glass in little clinks. "Beautification Potion?"
"Correct," Snape said, his voice carrying an air of acknowledgment as he reached for the stirring stick. "What function do fairy wings serve in that brew?"
"Well, they help remove blemishes, right? Aiding in the potions ability to make the consumer look more… appealing."
Snape gave a slow nod, "Impressive. Perhaps you weren't just scribbling nonsense on your parchment while I lectured."
Harry gave Snape a little glare, squinting at him with his customary green slits.
"Yeah, I actually paid attention, Professor Snape." Harry was quick to say, remembering how many times he'd wanted to defend himself after needless scoldings. "Draco was the one doodling and passing notes."
Snape raised a brow up in Harry's direction but said nothing. Harry was about to ask why this sleeping draught needed to possess such a restorative quality, why they were even brewing it in the first place, but a light tapping on the door pulled his attention first.
"You suppose that was the wind?" Harry asked, a tinge of curiosity laced in his tone as he eyed the wooden door.
Snape glanced over, and motioned for Harry to come to him. "Stir this continuously and I shall see."
Harry watched Snape move to the door as he haphazardly stirred the potion, anxious to see who, or what, was waiting outside.
When Snape dragged open the wooden frame, Harry was both surprised and relieved to see a wet owl fluttering through the entryway spilling thick mists of water everywhere as it shook out its feathers.
"Salazar, at this hour?" Snape muttered under his breath, leaning down to snatch the rain covered letter from the owls talons.
"Who's it from?" Harry asked, pausing his stirring.
Snape glanced down at the owl and said quietly, "You will stay and rest, dry your feathers."
The smallest of smiles came over Harry's lips, witnessing a softness to Snape that was often evasive, directed at a wet owl no less.
"It is addressed to you," Snape replied, drawing up behind Harry. "Now, we've stopped stirring, I see. Let's not waste such an expensive ingredient as fairy wings."
Snape punctuated his statement with a light smack to Harry's backside with his wand.
"Ow— hey," Harry shot back, giving Snape his best unenthused glare.
"Switch me places and you may have a look." Snape said, ignoring the grimace painting Harry's face.
Harry snatched the letter from Snape's hand and plopped down on a wooden stool by the table. He made sure to add in a dramatic hiss, as if the smack to his bum had hurt far more than it did.
"Oh please," Snape drawled languidly, his dark eyes rolling in exasperation."I mean it, you ought to consider striking up an alliance with Draco. I'm certain the pair of you could put on an act that challenges the absurdity of muggle theater."
Harry scoffed lightly as he broke the seal on the damp letter. It was blurry with smudged ink, making it challenging to read. Just before he could ask though, Snape effortlessly cast a drying spell over the parchment with a mere flick of his wand, not bothering to look up.
Offering a smile of appreciation that went undetected, Harry then turned his attention to the letter.
Dear Harry,
I hope this letter finds you well amidst whatever mischief or magical mysteries you've entangled yourself in at Professor Snape's. I'm rather suspicious of your so called 'calm' days with your nose buried in books. Knowing you, I'm certain you've found some sort of mischief to get up to. Ron mentioned your late-night trip to the pub, you know. I do hope Snape wasn't too hard on you. Ron seems to think you've been recruited to slave away for hours on end in the greenhouse. I'm more than sure he isn't abusing your stay, all things considered. Speaking on that, I've heard he has quite the home. I'd love to come by when I return and see it, permitting he'd be alright with it. What do you think?
I'll be back in town next week, as will Ron! I'm hoping the three of us can meet somewhere? The Leaky Cauldron or another place perhaps. We have so much to discuss.
On a more serious note, I've come across some fascinating research on ancient magical artifacts on my trip. I thought you might find it intriguing, considering your history with certain items that have caused more than a bit of chaos in the past. Perhaps we could discuss it soon, and I can share my findings over a cup of tea. I promise not to overload you with too much information – a Gryffindor can only handle so much, after all.
When you write back I expect a bit more of an update than the last. Honestly, Harry, we haven't spoken in over a month and the best you can do is a brief paragraph? Stay out of too much trouble, and give my best to Professor Snape. I'll be eagerly awaiting your owl.
I miss you. Wishing you all the best,
~ Hermione
Harry smiled to himself as he folded the letter. He'd missed Hermione too and he was more than ready to have her back around. It would be wonderful to meet with her and Ron soon.
"I trust Miss Granger is doing well?" Snape said casually, stirring with a relaxed sort of motion.
"Yeah," Harry replied, wondering how exactly Snape knew it was from her. "She gives you her best."
Snape nodded, "You may return mine when you write back. Though I must insist you do so tomorrow, unless you'd like to kill that bundle of wet feathers by the door."
Harry glanced over at the weighty owl who seemed not only slippery but exhausted. It had already flown up to the small window seal of stone and curled in on itself for a much needed rest.
"Right, I won't." Harry said through a little yawn as he folded the letter and tucked it in the front pocket of his trousers.
Snape eyed him then moved to extinguish a candle on the table. He waved his wand above the cauldron then turned to Harry.
"Put your coat back on," Snape motioned to the slicker jacket bunched up on the small table behind Harry. "It's time you retire for the evening."
Harry gave a small nod and moved to comply. He shrugged his jacket on and finagled with the hood, "We don't need to bottle the draught first?"
"I'll tend to it later." Snape said, collecting both his and Harry's finished glasses of whiskey, waving for the young wizard to follow him.
Harry thought about being perturbed that Snape was essentially sending him to bed, but it was late, nearly midnight or so, and he couldn't deny how exhausted he felt.
"How does your neck feel?" Snape asked, as they stepped out of the potions storage. He handed Harry the empty glasses and unlatched the umbrella.
"Better," Harry admitted, shifting the glasses in his hands. "Not as tense."
"Very well. I'll apply a bit more of the balm for you once you're settled in for bed." Snape said casually, Harry glanced up at him and flashed a grateful smile.
"Thanks, Snape."
Snape nodded, then snatched Harry by the arm and pulled him close, keeping him under the umbrella as they walked back to the house through the light rain. They hit the wet earth in a matching stride, their footsteps plodding along the drenched grass with purpose. Harry smiled as they drew closer to the house, feeling comforted by the shared space beneath the shield against the storm. The rain pelted against the umbrella in a soothing stream, reminding Harry of the demonstration in the front yard mere hours ago. He considered how much his life had changed in such a small span of time, feeling overwhelmed with how nice it felt to have a home— someone looking after him, even if he was a bit old to want it… to need it.
"The end of the war has made you into quite the mum, hasn't it?" Harry teased, smirking as Snape scoffed. "Neck rubs, cooking, building up my self-esteem, Mrs. Weasley would be impressed—"
"That will be quite enough, thank you." Snape snapped, cutting off the rest of Harry teasing compliments.
Snape rolled his eyes but kept his warm grip on Harry's arm as they walked, feeling the boy's shoulders shake with light laughter.
"You're insufferable, Harry Potter." Snape chided, yet despite his efforts, a small smile broke through his typically stern expression.
What an unexpected summer this was turning out to be.
Author's notes: I hope you've all had a wonderful Sunday! These last few chapters were fun to write- a bit of a break from the heavier content no doubt. I'm sad to announce that I won't be able to get a chapter posted next Sunday due to some personal obligations. I do plan to return to my regular posting the following Sunday though. If I can, perhaps I'll get in a chapter by mid next week, but I dare not make any promises in case I can't deliver. Hamlet, I loved your idea for Draco and Harry teaming up for a little 'swearing' prank on Snape. That's too funny! I'd like to find a way to fit it into this story (or perhaps its sequel) I'll certainly pocket the idea as I have your other fun one regarding Snape's small 'demonstration' of the cane to Harry. I still think the concept of 'one whack' to satisfy his curiosity is cute/funny. I'll be thinking on those both as I continue this work. Thank you for pouring out so much love and enthusiasm for this fic! It's a pure delight to read your thoughts every week- I so appreciate you and all your kind words. Lovely to hear from you MusicMelis! I'm delighted to know you're enjoying this story & thank you for such kind words and thoughtful commentary. I think 'sweet Harry' is my favorite way to write him. I love his big heart in the series! Goldflame, I loved reading your thoughts this evening! Lol Draco has gusto for sure, he's so ornery but I love him nonetheless. Thank you for leaving such a fantastic review! It's great to hear from you!
Have an amazing few weeks folks, I'll be back soon!