[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. Mention of spanking in this chapter and references to scenes in the film.
Chapter 7: Impeding Implements
The remainder of the warm spring afternoon went surprisingly well for Harry. After savoring the soft silence of his new room, he ventured out to find Snape preparing lunch in the kitchen. The sight of which was nothing short of astonishing– for he'd never picked Snape to be a cook. It was a strange feeling to watch his once cold potions professor, now cloaked in a worn leather apron, assembling sandwiches. With his usual air of precision, Snape layered slices of tomatoes, freshly plucked from his greenhouse, onto the sourdough bread.
As Harry watched him, a peculiar sense of normalcy began to pervade the room. The comforting scent of potato leek soup filled the air, and the tension that had accompanied their interactions for so long seemed to dissipate. It was a glimpse into a different facet of Snape, one that Harry had never imagined he would witness.
Later, the pair ate their lunch in relative silence. Snape perused an article from The Daily Prophet, pausing every so often to scoff and shake his head, while Harry took in the kitchen's surroundings. He admired how the afternoon light streamed in from the circular window above the copper sink, illuminating the sleek, jet black countertops. The aesthetic of the kitchen provided a stark contrast to the predominant green and brown hues of the house.
Harry peered into the open pantry, which revealed several dried bundles of lavender hanging from copper hooks on the ceiling. He smiled to himself as he noted how every ingredient and dried food item was aptly labeled with straight, hand-written notes, appropriately detailing everything down to the last grain of rice.
After finishing their meal, Harry extended a helpful hand to Snape at the sink. Together they rinsed the glass plates, preparation utensils, and ceramic soup bowls.
Snape maintained his customary stoicism, but a flicker of satisfaction passed through him as he glanced at Harry. He appreciated the unprompted assistance and noted the mature demenor Harry held.
In the midst of the domestic activity, the gentle sound of running water filled the room. Despite finding the situation somewhat peculiar, Harry also felt a warm sense of contentment as they worked side by side.
"Could we go see your greenhouse?" Harry had asked, his curiosity piqued by the freshly harvested tomatoes and Snape's earlier mention of it.
Snape nodded, and after finishing with the dishes, led him to the backyard for the tour.
Harry was genuinely impressed by the vibrant garden inside the greenhouse, where magical plants intertwined with fresh, delicious produce. His smile widened as Snape pointed out the few shaking Mandrakes, their thick green stems and trembling broad leaves evoked memories of lessons spent with Professor Sprout.
During most of the tour, the pair exchanged pleasant and cordial moments. It was only when they reached Snape's potions storage room, situated next to the greenhouse, that a minor incident unfolded.
Harry had inevitably found himself on the receiving end of a firm smack to his bum from Snape's wand for touching a warm, fiery red vial of salamander's blood. Unfortunately, his curiosity had gotten the best of him, and he couldn't resist the temptation to inspect the vial more closely.
"Look with your eyes only, Potter," Snape had reprimanded sternly, his voice carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of displeasure. "As you'll soon learn, handling ingredients in this storage room without explicit permission will result in immediate disciplinary action."
Harry nodded, an uneasy feeling settled in his chest, as he responded quickly with, "I'm sorry," his emerald eyes meeting Snape's unwavering gaze.
Though he knew what Snape had meant by 'disciplinary measures,' he had no intention of discussing them at the time.
"Very well." Snape replied as the pair moved to exit the large storage room lined with potions, ingredients, and strange looking specimens in glass jars.
The remainder of the day passed relatively quickly as they split up after the tour. Snape retreated to his study, engrossed in what Harry presumed to be research and potions. Meanwhile Harry strolled through the sprawling grounds of the house. He admired how the winding pavement road led to the quiet, private neighborhood, where similar stone homes stood in dignified silence. The courtyard, in particular, caught his attention; with its lush green grass and a charming, natural pond that hosted a few elegant Arowana fish gliding through the water.
Harry was astounded when dinner time rolled around and he found Snape yet again in the kitchen, preparing another savory home cooked meal. The smell of roasted chicken graced with a complimentary garlic rub permeated the house, filling Harry with a comforting sense of equanimity. After the war, living with the Dursleys, and the dining hall dishes, Snape's cooking tasted like a culinary masterpiece.
The warmth emanating from the kitchen, along with the gentle clinking of dishes as Snape finished preparing their meal, made Harry smile. As they ate together, their conversation remained polite and somewhat reserved, and the silences that settled between them felt different. Unlike the awkward and uncomfortable silences he once associated with Snape, these were strangely pleasant, and he wondered if Snape thought so too.
Harry contemplated how his post-war interactions with Snape had both changed everything and nothing at the same time. It was a peculiar dichotomy that occupied his thoughts throughout the day. Prior to his entrance into Snape's memories through Legilimency, Harry had been oblivious to the depth of the man's love for his mother. Nor was he aware of the bullying Snape had endured at the hands of his father. These revelations had been overwhelming enough during the war, but they now seemed like just the tip of the iceberg.
Vivid memories flooded Harry's mind, those he had witnessed in the Pensieve. Now, without the imminent threat of death, Harry had the opportunity to contemplate the impact of those revelations.
Snape's love for his mother ran deeper than Harry could have ever imagined. The seemingly harsh, cold, and once ominous man had dedicated his life to her – and to him.
It bewildered Harry to know that throughout his time at Hogwarts, Snape had secretly protected him with unwavering dedication, even deceiving Voldemort himself. Harry had finally seen that Snape cared for him, though it had been shrouded in layers of complexity and secrecy.
It was with this newfound certainty that Harry had trusted Snape enough to place him in the humiliating, painful, and exceptionally vulnerable position over Snape's knees. It was why he now shared a home with this enigmatic potions master. Yet, despite these revelations, Snape's outward demeanor remained as dry, stoic, and stern as ever. Harry didn't expect an overnight transformation, but he couldn't help but wonder if Snape felt differently toward him after everything came to light.
It was challenging to discern the true nature of the man he thought he knew well. Harry pondered whether Snape would ever forgo the formalities and reserved disposition that had accompanied his presence for so long.
Harry shrugged off the persistent thoughts as he took another bite of his delicious dinner. Time will tell, he told himself.
When the evening approached, the pair retired to the living room. Snape lit a roaring fire, and Harry settled comfortably into a Russian green armchair.
As he suspected, it was ridiculously soft and a pleasure to sit in. It was then that Harry realized he hadn't thought much about his tender bum since the early morning. Thankfully, the lingering ache had faded away, and he sat normally, as if the painful lesson had never occurred.
"I am going to retrieve a kettle of lavender tea," Snape said, breaking the silence as he stood and peered down at Harry, "Would you like some as well?"
Harry smiled up at him, "Sure, thank you."' He glanced towards the kitchen, "Do you need any help?"
Snape shook his head as he turned on his heel to make way for the kitchen, "I can manage to collect a tea kettle, Potter." He said over his shoulder, disappearing from sight.
Harry nodded as he turned back to watch the orange flames dance in the fireplace.
Moments later he heard Snape clear his throat, "Your help this evening has been satisfactory." He said, though his voice sounded distant.
Harry chuckled to himself, it wasn't a 'thank you' per say, but Snape's tone revealed his true sincerity.
"Good," Harry replied with a small smile plastered to his face, "I know I said it earlier but you make great food."
Snape reappeared, carrying the silver, steaming tea kettle. "You've merely been scarred by that detestable dining hall slop." He replied dismissively as he poured the purple hued tea into each of the awaiting silver cups.
Harry smirked and took the extended teacup from Snape.
"Though it is not customary to add sugar to tea this close to retiring to bed," Snape said as he picked up a small serving dish with white sugary cubes and extended them to Harry, "I suppose it is cordial to offer you them regardless."
Harry lifted his eyebrows up as he peered into the dish. He couldn't stop himself from smiling at Snape's disapproving glare after he snatched up two cubes and plopped them into his piping hot tea.
"How utterly predictable you are." Snape replied in his typical low drawl as he set the dish back to the small cart.
Harry smiled and drew in a slurp of his tea, earning him another disapproving glance from Snape.
"Come along, Potter." Snape directed as he made his way to the antique couch.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked as he rose up to follow after Snape, secretly stealing another sugary cube.
Snape maintained a thoughtful silence as he carefully ignited the tall candles in the room, their flames casting a warm, flickering glow that chased away the remaining shadows in the dimly lit area.
He motioned for Harry to come join him on the couch. They both settled onto the plush fabric, their movements in perfect harmony as Snape subtly shifted to orient himself toward Harry. Their knees came close to touching, revealing an unspoken connection between them after last night's discipline.
"It is time to address the house rules and the consequences that may ensue should you disregard them," Snape declared, his voice maintaining its characteristic low and authoritative tone.
"Oh, right," Harry replied, blushing slightly as he set his teacup down on a coaster located on the polished oak coffee table.
Snape nodded, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread about this particular part of the evening. His initial discomfort about sharing a home with Harry had eased somewhat throughout the day, but he remained haunted by waves of self-doubt. Guiding Harry into adulthood seemed like an overwhelming task, especially for someone who had endured a tumultuous and abusive childhood themselves and carried the heavy burden of wartime experiences.
Over the years, Snape had become adept at concealing his vulnerabilities, but at this moment, his self-doubt clawed at the very core of his being. How could he, someone who had known so little nurturing in his own upbringing, provide the care, love, and discipline that Harry needed?
Unsettling thoughts had plagued him ever since McGonagall suggested this arrangement. Each time he looked at Harry, a mix of emotions welled up within him. Grief and remorse over their complex history struck him sharply. Snape couldn't avoid the undeniable truth: Harry had seen his sacrifices, endured torment, known the depths of his unspoken love, and understood the solitary burden he had carried for years. As a result, his entire persona often felt like a thin disguise concealing his true emotions.
Exacerbating his internal turmoil was the realization that he was now responsible for disciplining Lily's son, a young man whose eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to the love of his life. This added layer of complexity weighed heavily on his conscience, casting shadows over the path he had committed to walk with Harry.
The memory of the intense spanking he had administered to the young wizard the night before continued to disrupt his thoughts. While it was true that he had never felt remorse for delivering a well-deserved spanking, the piercing echoes of Harry's cries and the sight of his reddened skin had stirred within him a profound sense of dismay. He was not looking forward to the prospect of doling out another session anytime soon. Yet, knowing Harry and his penchant for trouble, Snape couldn't help but fear that another such session wouldn't be far off.
Clearing his throat, Snape redirected his attention to Harry. He was firm in his resolve to suppress any lingering emotions and move forward, just as he always had.
"I have no inclination for needless complexities, Potter," Snape began. "The rules, therefore, shall remain uncomplicated."
Harry nodded, feeling a slight knot of unease in his stomach as he awaited Snape's following words.
"Effective communication is paramount for the smooth operation of this household. I have no intention of restricting your outings, but I do expect to be informed of your whereabouts."
Harry's eyes widened in astonishment, for he had half expected that Snape would either insist on accompanying him at all times or confine him to the house.
"I'll make sure I tell you." Harry responded, his tone reflecting the satisfaction that he felt at the revelation. Snape nodded, taking a sip of his tea.
"Very well," he continued, setting the teacup back down. "You will be required to return home prior to 10 in the evening, unless we have arranged otherwise."
Harry nodded in response, suddenly feeling less embarrassed by the conversation. 10 is fair, he reasoned to himself.
"This should go without saying, Potter," Snape interlaced his fingers, his tone even more precise, as he leveled Harry with a stern gaze. "Do not pursue anything of a questionable or suspicious nature. You are here to convalesce from the war, not embroil yourself in another one."
Harry's eyes drifted away from Snape's penetrating gaze, a twinge of guilt flicking at his chest. Responsibility for the war's devastation still weighed heavily on his conscience, as it always did.
Recognizing the emotions traversing Harry's face, Snape did something uncharacteristic. He hesitantly extended his hand, patting Harry's back a few times, offering a rare moment of comfort.
Harry looked up, a small, grateful smile forming. "I won't. I promise."
"Good," Snape replied quietly, withdrawing his hand and taking a sip of his tea.
As Harry adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose, they settled into a brief companionable silence, the warmth of the fire and the aroma of lavender tea wrapping around them. Harry relished the seldom comfort offered by his former potions professor. Regardless of the embarrassment he felt when he remembered that the last comforting back pats he'd received were over Snape's outstretched knees.
"Before you prepare your outings and leisure time, I expect you to first report to me. I will assign you tasks that are to be completed daily that pertain to either the necessary functioning of this household, or your personal development." Snape continued, leveling Harry a no-nonsense look.
Harry couldn't help but sigh at that. Of course there would be mandated chores.
"Alright, I'll make sure that I do." Harry replied reluctantly as he took another swig of his own tea, also finishing it off.
"Indeed. Now, as I mentioned during our earlier discussion in the potions storage," Snape began, causing Harry to blush. "Do not enter the building without explicit permission, and certainly, refrain from touching anything. If you choose to disregard this rule, I will take corrective measures immediately, without waiting for the privacy of this home."
Harry's ears turned a brilliant shade of scarlet from his mounting embarrassment. He fought to suppress the intense flush creeping across his face, all while nodding in response without uttering a word.
"Young man," Snape began, his tone low and warning. "Need I remind you of my sentiments for non verbal responses?"
"No, no, I'm sorry," Harry responded quickly, meeting Snape's intense gaze. "I will not go into, or touch anything, in your potions storage. Unless you tell me otherwise."
"Very well," Snape responded, his tone steady as he leaned back against the couch. "In general, you should be fully aware that I have no tolerance for dishonesty, insolence, or disobedience. A transgression of such will always result in a well earned trip over my knee."
Harry wanted to die from embarrassment but was quick to respond this time with a quiet, "Yes, sir,"
"Excellent. Thus then concludes the rules of the house," Snape replied, readying himself for the final part of their conversation. "Additional stipulations may be introduced in the future, but rest assured, I will inform you of any changes before administering consequences."
Harry swallowed and nodded as he glanced around the room, avoiding Snape's gaze. If he continued to stare at his former potions professor, he feared his blush would never recede.
"Now, as for the penalties you can expect for infractions," Snape continued after adjusting the collar of his travel cloak.
"Accio paddle, brush, and strap." His voice rang with authority as he commanded the house to fetch the disciplinary tools.
Though spanking Harry had not been an enjoyable experience for either of them, Snape was resolved in the necessity of it. He knew from personal experience that pain proved to be a strong motivator for behavior. His snakes at Hogwarts certainly watched their steps after being on the receiving end of a well-deserved spanking. Even Lucius's son knew better than to overstep his bounds.
A sinking feeling of dread bubbled in Harry's stomach, and a shiver of unease ran down his spine as he listened to the eerie sounds of the magical summoning echoing throughout the house.
It felt as if the very walls were silently bowing to Snape's authority. The unmistakable creak of a drawer sliding open and shutting with a swift, loud smack made Harry grimace. The implements, summoned by Snape's command, flew into the room, their arrival punctuating the weight of what was to be expected for misbehaving.
With practiced precision, Snape deftly caught each one, handling them with the same care and assurance that characterized his every movement.
He placed them deliberately on the waiting coffee table.
Harry cast a wary glance at the disciplinary tools, unconsciously moving back on the couch. Each implement carried an aura of intimidation, and he had no desire to examine them closely.
"Depending on the severity of the infraction, Potter," Snape said, directing a stern gaze towards the array of implements, "one, or perhaps a combination of each, will be administered to you to reinforce the importance of the household rules."
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his slender arms crossing over his chest in a protective gesture.
He glanced closer at the table, his eyes drifting between the implements.
Crafted from gleaming cherry wood, the short, rounded paddle looked smooth and deceptively heavy, hinting at a firm reminder of the household rules.
The vintage hairbrush, beside the paddle, appeared to be made from polished mahogany with a subtle curve, almost as if it were designed for a comfortable grip. Its pristine condition made Harry wonder if it had ever seen use on someone's hair.
Then there was the menacing leather strap. An imposing tool handcrafted from thick, genuine leather. Measuring about 10 inches in length and 1.5 inches in width, it promised a sharp and memorable sting if used for correction.
"Well… lucky me." Harry mumbled as he glanced away from the intimidating implements laid out before him, as a palpable tension filled the room.
"Ensure you adhere to the guidelines for this arrangement, Potter, and you'll avoid any such uncomfortable 'luck'." Snape replied, emphasizing the term with a hint of sardonic dryness.
Harry managed a wry smirk at Snape's witticism, appreciating the levity amid the tension that loomed in the air.
After a brief moment of silence, Harry took a deep, cleansing breath.
"Geeze, Professor Snape." He began, with a hint of nervousness as he uncrossed his arms and sat up, "this sort of feels like you're revealing an executioner's tools to the condemned. Wouldn't a bit of surprise have been better?"
Snape scoffed as he uncrossed his legs. "As jovial as your little analogy is, I prefer to deal in certainties, not surprises. It is a lesson you would do well to remember."
Harry grimaced, before letting out a dejected sigh.
"See to it that you find a suitable storage place for them." Snape directed, motioning to the spanking implements as he stood up and strode over to the tea kettle by the crackling fireplace.
"What? Why do I have to keep them!" Harry exclaimed in response, suddenly feeling uncomfortable at the prospect of being anywhere near the disciplinary tools.
"Settle down, Potter. I am in no mood for theatrics." Snape said in his customarily dry tone as Harry shot to his feet.
He carefully poured himself another cup of tea. Then with precision, he withdrew his wand from the folds of his cloak and cast a spell over the kettle and cup. The room was soon filled with the potent aroma of lavender again as the contents began to boil once more.
"Not only will having the disciplinary implements on hand serve as a reminder for appropriate behavior," Snape continued, "but you will also be required to retrieve them when you are in need of punishment." He sentenced as he motioned for Harry to bring his teacup over.
Harry's jaw dropped as he stared at Snape, his expression revealing the level of disgust he felt at the revelation.
"I hate that." Harry admitted quietly after a moment of silence. He quickly snatched up his cup and sauntered over to Snape.
Snape merely rolled his eyes and took the teacup from Harry, filling it up with the fragrant brew.
As the hot liquid settled in the cool cup, a delicate wisp of steam unfurled, momentarily shrouding Harry's glasses in a hazy veil as he raised the cup to his lips.
Replacing the tea kettle on the awaiting cart, Snape removed his outer travel coat and neatly placed it on the back of the Russian green armchair. Using one hand to adjust the front of his trousers, he sat down and closed his eyes with meticulous precision.
Following suit, Harry casually replaced his tea cup on its little coaster, adjusting his round glasses to let the steam dissipate before taking a moment to find a comfortable spot on the adjacent armchair.
As he settled in, he couldn't help but shift slightly in his seat, showing a subtle unease that contrasted Snape's meticulous precision.
"So, um…well." Harry mumbled for a moment, trying to find the right way to phrase his pressing question without exuding the incredible awkwardness he felt.
Snape opened his eyes and cast Harry an exhausted glance, but waited patiently this time for the young wizard to collect his thoughts.
"Have you always had them?" Harry asked as he motioned back towards the implements laying on the glossy coffee table.
"Hmmm." Snape hummed low as he glanced up momentarily to the ceiling. "Not always." He said, peering back down to meet Harry's quizzical gaze. "However, they have remained in my desk drawer since my first day instructing at Hogwarts."
"Oh," Harry replied, pulling his cup back up to his thin lips again. Snape merely nodded in response, closing his eyes for another moment to rest.
It had been a sleepless night prior and a long day, and Snape's vigor was beginning to dwindle. Hidden beneath his stoic exterior though, he found himself unexpectedly appreciating the warmth of Harry's company. The trepidation he'd felt over their discussion had diminished after Harry had received the rules and subsequent consequences relatively well. Despite the impending barrage of questions he was sure to face, the comforting contrast of Harry's presence to his usually dark, lonely quarters in the dungeon was undeniable.
"Do you discipline the Slytherins often at school?" Harry asked with courage as he drummed his foot on the floor, slightly bouncing his knee up and down.
Snape heaved a deep sigh and shot Harry a sidelong glance. "If you are attempting to gain insights again into Mr. Mallfoy's discipline,"
Harry moved to say something but caught himself just in time, effectively stopping himself from interrupting. The self restraint did not go unnoticed by Snape, causing the potions master to suppress a smile of satisfaction.
"I'm afraid you will be sorely disappointed." Snape finished as he took a sip of his tea.
"No, no." Harry assured him, "I'm just trying to understand all of this... I've never heard of any teachers smacking students."
Snape hummed low and sighed. "It is rather uncommon now. However, when I first began instructing, corporal punishment was widely accepted as a means of proper discipline across Hogwarts."
"Really?" Harry asked in surprise as he leaned forward a bit, looking intently at Snape.
"Indeed," Snape replied, raising his brows. "As a matter of fact, the Headmaster himself dealt out many well-earned licks to misbehaving students."
"Dumbledore?!" Harry gasped, his mouth dropping open. "I can hardly believe that."
Snape merely scoffed, taking another sip of his tea. "Yes, well, many things were different back then." He replied, his gaze gravitating back to the fireplace.
Harry fell into contemplative silence, as he grappled with the newly revealed information.
The room enveloped them in a tranquil hush, broken only by the rhythmic snap and crackle of the blackened logs in the fireplace. The fragrant aroma of burning cedar and smoky embers infused the air, cocooning the two in a warm atmosphere as they relaxed in their seats.
"Do you know if he… disciplined my Mum and Dad that way?" Harry asked tentatively.
Harry's question stirred a whirlwind of thoughts within Snape's mind. Though he was certain Lily had never behaved so poorly as to be summoned to the headmaster's office, he recalled a buzz that circulated once or twice in the Slytherin house, suggesting that James and his noble companions had finally received some strikes for sneaking off to the Shrieking Shack.
"Never your mother." Snape replied, as he glanced away from the dwindling fire. "Not that I was ever aware of."
A moment of silence hung in the air again as Snape reached for a black, metal fire iron to the right of the hearth. With a precise, almost ritualistic motion, he gently prodded the logs with its sharp tip, sending a shower of fiery sparks dancing into the air. The motion rekindled flames, filling the room with an ambiance of both comfort and intrigue.
"Perhaps once or twice though, your father found himself in the Headmaster's office or hauled off to an instructor's quarters." Harry opened his mouth to speak but Snape effectively cut him off as he held up his hand, "No, Potter. I do not know any details."
"Bummer." Harry said as he let out a sigh. While he certainly wouldn't have wished suffering upon his father, he couldn't help but recall the glimpses he had seen in Snape's mind during their final Occlumency lesson. Those memories and suspicions about his father's past now weighed on his conscience.
"The Slytherin house," Snape continued, redirecting the conversation as he set the fire iron down and rested back in his chair, "were far more often the recipients of such disciplinary measures, given our shared affinity for the dark arts, secrets, and trouble making."
Harry perked up, turning a rather intense gaze towards Snape, "'Our' affinity?" He prodded in a light and almost teasing tone, "Don't tell me you, of all people, were smacked by Dumbledore?"
Snape cast Harry a bit of a warning glare, though he decided not to hide the truth from the young wizard.
"Indeed." He confirmed in his low, quiet tone as he sipped the remainder of his tea.
Harry quickly set his teacup down on the silver cart, tossing his hands up as he leaned back in his chair.
"What?! Professor Snape, this is monumental information. You have to tell me about it." He said with genuine curiosity, his sparkling emerald eyes locked onto Snape, eager to hear more about this unexpected revelation.
Snape merely scoffed as he set his silver cup down on the cart, next to Harry's. "Absolutely not." He replied, aptly avoiding the young wizard's piercing gaze as he smoothed out a wrinkle in his charcoal black pants.
"Aw, come on!" Harry pleaded as he pulled himself back to the front of his seat. "You can't just say that and leave me with no follow up."
"Indeed, I can." Snape replied quickly as he stood and collected the teacups, "Come along, Potter. It's nearly ten and it has been a long enough day."
Harry stood and hurried to catch up to Snape who was now moving swiftly towards the kitchen.
"Just tell me about one of the times?" Harry tried as he nearly slipped on the waxed kitchen floor.
Snape turned slightly to glower at him as he set the teacups into the sink and the kettle on to the iron stove top.
"No," he replied firmly, "I'm afraid my past grievances won't serve as a Muggle bedtime story for the evening." Snape said dismissively as he rinsed out the tea cups under the cool water.
Harry huffed as he glanced around the kitchen, trying to think of a way to convince him otherwise.
"Professor Snape, please?" He began once more, almost reluctantly this time. "I mean, I was pretty embarrassed last night," Harry admitted as he glanced away from Snape's irritated gaze. "It would make me feel better about the whole discipline thing."
Snape sighed as he set the now clean teacups into a drying rack. Manipulative boy, he thought, as the vivid memory of the spanking he'd administered to Harry came flooding back again. He strode past the young wizard and flicked his wand, effectively extinguishing the candles in the living room.
"Tomorrow, perhaps we may discuss it, if time permits," Snape remarked, prompting Harry to respond with a small victorious smile and discreet nod.
"However," Snape cautioned, lifting a halting finger in reply, "it remains a significant 'if' whether I choose to delve into that discussion with you."
Harry nodded as he followed Snape up the wooden staircase, their synchronized footfalls resonating throughout the house, each step echoing with the creaking of the old wood beneath their feet.
"Don't worry, Professor, I'll make sure we have time." Harry said with a playful tinge in his voice, provoking Snape to cast an irritated glance over his shoulder, his dark eyes narrowing at the young wizard.
"Which reminds me," Snape began as he reached the top of the staircase, pausing for a moment before continuing, "I believe you've forgotten to collect some items on the coffee table."
Harry stopped abruptly just shy of the final stair and let out a groan of mild exasperation. "Do I really have to fetch them right now?"
"Indeed. Attend to it and then retire for the evening." Snape replied with an air of firmness as he turned and made his way toward his own room.
Harry released a resigned sigh, his heavy steps reverberating through the house as he descended the stairs.
"Good night," he called out after Snape, his voice trailing as he disappeared from view.
Glancing down the staircase after the departing boy, Snape merely shook his head in silent amusement.
"Good night, Potter," he muttered under his breath before closing the weighty door to his room.
Author's notes: I'm looking forward to sharing the next chapter with you all! Thank you for your continued and wonderful engagement in the comments section. Reading your thoughts and knowing how much you're enjoying the story brightens my day. Much love to you as always & I'll be back with a new chapter next week.