[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 18: A World of Trouble
The burnt corner of the smoke mangled book flicked off in a black flutter as Snape flipped to the next fire damaged page. His dark eyes scanned the charcoal stained lettering as his temper ebbed up, climbing fast like a thermometer submerged in boiling water.
It was hardly salvageable, the burnt book, but Snape could make out the center ingredients on the dog eared page:
- Moonflower essence
- Powdered Thestral Hoof
- Basilisk Scale
Snape inhaled sharply and pursed his lips into a tight line.
Fuming, he snapped the nearly destroyed potions book shut. Flutters of torched black paper and ashes spilled across his heavy oak desk.
Draco was a dead man walking.
How could the boy be so utterly moronic? Snape wondered. Of course Narcissa had come begging.
Snape leaned back in his study chair and took a deep, cleansing breath. He steepled his potion stained fingers and pinched his eyes shut.
Today was going to be longer, and harder, than he'd anticipated.
On cue, reminding him of the other troublesome teenager he had yet to deal with, the wooden door at the top of Harry's staircase creaked open. Snape listened to the soft padding of Harry's bare feet climb down the worn stairs.
With a singular tap of his wand, the barely bound book disappeared, stowing itself in the front of his deep trouser pocket as the black ash dissipated into thin air.
Snape stood, walked a few paces and swung the door to the study open, nearly colliding with a sleepy Harry.
"Oh, uh, hi," Harry said sheepishly, he peered past Snape to the dimly lit study, "I was just coming to see if you were up."
"Good morning," Snape said low and slow, his eyes gliding up to Harry's exceptionally messy hair.
He never understood how Harry tolerated having his hair look like the scruff of a frazzled beaver.
"I trust you slept well." Snape followed up a moment later, when Harry said nothing, keeping his green eyes anywhere else but Snape's dark gaze.
Harry felt his face flush as he reached up to rub the back of his neck, "Oh, uh, yeah."
In truth he had slept great, but his dreams were... peculiar.
As he had laid down to rest, thoughts of Snape lingered in his tired mind, and upon waking up, they persisted in an unexpected way.
The details of last night's dream were elusive, slipping through the grasp of his waking mind in pieces.
He recalled faint, vivid fragments of the scene; feeling warmth from the presence of his mother, alive and laughing in the kitchen downstairs with Snape. They were connected, sharing a tender embrace... Harry was there too, though it felt more like he was observing a scene on a distant screen than actively participating in the moment.
He wasn't sure why the recollection of the fictitious moments made him feel embarrassed, but it did.
Snape eyed Harry, observing the reddening of the boy's ears and downcast eyes.
The persistent ache in Harry's backside reminded him of his long, embarrassing, cry last night, which added on to his lingering discomfort.
"What about you? Did you sleep well?" Harry forced himself to ask, finally looking up.
"Indeed," Snape replied, lifting an eyebrow at Harry before pulling the door to his study shut and moving swiftly past him.
"Prepare yourself for the day then meet me downstairs, we need to have a little chat before I leave." Snape said over his shoulder.
From what he gathered, the boy was still embarrassed over the lingering consequences he had to face. The quicker they could discuss, the quicker Harry could return to his normal, arrogant little self.
Harry swallowed at the mention of a 'chat', watching Snape stride down the creaky wooden steps.
"What kind of chat?" Harry asked, moving to the railing of the staircase.
"A chat about your obnoxious habit of listening to private conversations and defying outright instructions." Snape said in a no nonsense tone, giving Harry a pointed look from the base of the staircase.
Harry groaned and looked up at the ceiling, he became quickly aware that he was still in his boxer pants and sleep shirt.
"Alright," Harry grumbled, moving to come downstairs.
Snape watched Harry intently, his temper spiking at the lack of compliance.
"I just told you to get dressed, Potter. Are you actively trying to provoke more trouble for yourself?" Snape shot, leaning his hand on the railing and glaring up at the descending young wizard on the staircase.
"I'm wearing this shirt today," Harry said, pausing to motion down to his soft oversized shirt, "there's no point in putting my trousers on."
"No? Your comfortability in my private residence is touching." Snape snapped, raising his brow. "Though I must admit, it is rather surprising given your discretion during disciplinary proceedings. What, may I ask, has prompted this newfound sense of audacity?"
Harry blushed, glaring down slightly and tapping his fingers along the railing.
"Well… if you're just going to make me take them off for a smacking I might as well save the time." Harry said quietly, darting his nervous gaze away from Snape.
Snape narrowed his dark gaze. "At what point, in our extraordinarily brief conversation, did I say you were receiving one?"
"Uh," Harry glanced up, a little hope flickering in his green eyes, "I'm not?"
"I hadn't planned on it. However, you're tempting me with this robust display of self pity." Snape quipped, making Harry smile a little. "Go get dressed. Put on a fitting shirt as well."
Relief flooded Harry at the sentence, his tight shoulders dropped and the anxious pit in his stomach soon evaporated as he scurried back up the stairs.
"Cheeky little prat," Snape mumbled to himself as he made his way to the sun-kissed kitchen.
Twenty minutes later Snape heard the click and lock of the bathroom door, followed by the squeak of the shower handle. The sound of strong water pelting against tile reverberated out through the upper half of the floor.
Without making a sound, Snape ascended both sets of stairs, briskly striding into Harry's room.
The copper tea kettle glimmered in the bright kitchen light, steam pouring out of its piping hot spout. It began to squeal loudly in protest, prompting Snape to snatch it off the flickering fire. He snapped off the gas burner and retrieved a teacup.
Soon Harry padded into the kitchen, his socks nearly causing him to slip on the freshly waxed floor. He ran a hand up through his damp hair and gave it a little shake. He then glanced at Snape who was busy undoing a few lavender stems from the pantry ceiling.
"So, um," Harry said, strolling over and grabbing a banana off the counter, "I take it you're off to involve yourself with the wonderful Malfoy family?"
Harry stripped the top of the banana down and took a large bite.
Stepping out of the pantry, Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "It's awfully early to be cheeky with me, especially with your punishments at hand."
Harry frowned, his mouth now filled with banana.
"I thought you weren't smacking me?" His words came out muffled by the soft, mushy fruit.
Snape frowned. "Potter, have the common decency not to speak with your mouth full. That is atrocious behavior at your age."
Snape tsked out loud, grinding the lavender petals together in a small stone bowl on the counter.
"Sorry," Harry said after he swallowed another bite.
Harry couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes at the scolding remark while he watched Snape nestle the lavender petals into a prepped tea bag.
Snape soon turned to peer into the fridge.
"As it so happens, I have other matters to attend to aside from the Malfoy family." Snape said, grabbing a cold bundle of mint leaves and setting them on the counter.
"Yeah?" Harry asked, pulling the banana peel down lower, "Can I come with you then?"
"No." Snape replied swiftly, pausing to tear off a few mint leaves from the bundle.
"Why not?" Harry asked, taking another ridiculously large bite.
"Eavesdroppers don't get such privileges," Snape retorted, tossing in the fresh mint to his teacup and the bundle back into the chilly fridge.
Harry frowned, smacking his banana a bit in his mouth.
Snape glared up at him, the sound of chomping making his skin crawl, eliciting a mischievous little grin from Harry.
"Stop testing me today, Potter," Snape said, lightly smacking Harry's backside with his wand for emphasis while he strode past him.
"Hey!" Harry protested through a mouth full of his last banana bite.
He swallowed hard and glared.
"That was low, Professor Snape," he shot, rubbing the aching spot on his backside.
Snape merely pulled out a wooden dining room chair and said: "Sit down."
"Can't we ever have a conversation standing?"
Harry grumbled, moving to toss the banana peel in the small silver trash can out the back door.
Snape glowered in response, prompting him to pipe down and obey. He was too sore to push his luck with Snape today.
Harry groaned, hating the discomfort he felt when his sore backside met the unforgivingly hard surface of the dining chair.
Snape glanced at the boy's pained face, diligently choosing to ignore the discomfort he caught in it.
Snape interlaced his fingers and leveled the young wizard with a stern look.
"Considering you've successfully earned yourself two trips over my knee in the last twenty four hours, I deemed it inappropriate to extend a third visit today."
Harry nodded, grateful but still embarrassed at the mention of it all.
"Thanks, Professor Snape," he said respectfully, looking up with his wide green eyes.
Snape stirred his tea with a small silver teaspoon and took a sip.
"Tell me why it's inappropriate to listen in on private conversations." Snape said, leveling Harry with an unforgiving glare.
Harry swallowed, swinging his foot some under the table.
"Well it's disrespectful to the people hoping for a private conversation," Harry replied, keeping his green eyes on Snape.
Snape nodded, "Clearly. Go on."
"Uh," Harry said, looking up for a moment, "I suppose I could hear something wrong and misinterpret it."
"Indeed," Snape replied, "and given your penchant for misplaced heroics, surely your eagerness to entangle yourself in matters that were never meant for your involvement would be woefully irresistible."
Harry nodded, his backside ached so bad, making him shift his weight again.
"Going forward, I will not be so lenient with you," Snape paused, watching Harry chew his lip and drop his eyes.
"Any eavesdropping in the future will secure you a firm reprimand with the paddle, understood?"
Harry's face flushed deeply, but he nodded fast, "I understand, sir."
"Disobedience will not be tolerated either, Mr. Potter," Snape dropped his tone down lower, causing Harry to squirm.
"The next time you willingly defy me, whether it be as simple as neglecting to take your dish to the sink, I will bend you over for a strapping you won't soon forget."
Harry took a sharp breath in and fidgeted with his jittery hands.
"I understand," Harry said quietly, "I really am sorry about last night, sir, it won't happen again."
"Very well," Snape said with a small nod, "you know what to expect if it does."
Snape let the threat dangle in the lavender soaked morning air, watching Harry shift in his seat for the millionth time.
Harry nodded, chewing the corner of his thumb nail and waiting for Snape to say something more.
Snape withdrew his wand from his pocket and tapped the table.
In the blink of an eye, a parchment paper appeared with Snape's detailed penmanship gracing its brown page.
Harry peered over to it.
"You are to complete these chores while I am away." Snape said, extending the list. "They shouldoccupy your time adequately."
Harry nodded, and took the paper, his eyes wandering over the extensive list of outdoor and indoor chores.
"This goes without saying but you will complete these tasks by hand, without the use of magical intervention." Snape added, leveling Harry with a stern expression.
Harry glanced up and nodded. "Yes, sir."
He was surprised, nothing was particularly hard about the list.
Water the lawn— he could do that.
Weed the garden beds— not a problem.
Wash the windows— that was light work.
The list stretched on, but he found nothing more challenging than what he'd done on a day to day basis for Petunia and Vernon.
"When you're through," Snape said, withdrawing a folded paper from his button up shirt pocket, "I expect two separate essays answering each of the following prompts. No less than three feet."
Harry frowned but quickly fixed his face when he caught the flinty glare in Snape's eye. His sore arse begged him not to challenge it.
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, taking the paper from Snape and trying not to moan when he glanced at the prompt questions:
The Consequences of Disobeying Authority: A Personal Reflection
Provide a detailed analysis of your recent actions, elucidating the repercussions of defying authority. Reflect on the impact of such behavior, both on yourself and those around you. Be thorough, Potter, include the immediate repercussions you will suffer for a repeat infraction and the long term consequences of defying authority figures in your life.
Navigating Curiosity and Impulse Control: A Self-Analysis
Conduct a thorough examination of your tendencies toward curiosity and impulsive behavior, specifically regarding your inclination towards invading upon private discussions. Analyze the root causes of these inclinations and propose strategies for improving your impulse control. Your response should be insightful and introspective. Include the consequences to be expected in this house for violating confidential conversations.
Snape found a concealed sense of relief as Harry complied. He watched the green eyes travers the parchment paper with a sense of needed satisfaction.
Bringing down the firm hand of discipline was a task he deemed quite necessary to instill respect and redirect poor behavior; but still, it proved a challenge these days. More so than he could've imagined with Harry. Seeing the discomfort etched on the young wizard's face, when those emerald, soft eyes hit him with pain and desperation, had Snape nearly crumbling each session.
And today, the prospect of taking Draco over his knee, so soon after Harry, filled him with a lingering sense of dismay. The looming prospect of administering a thrashing to the insolent young wizard, known to be one of the most emotionally charged individuals on the planet when in pain, added a weight on Snape's shoulders.
It had been over three years since he found it necessary to deliver multiple spankings in such a short span of time. The vivid memory flickered in his mind from the exhausting night when a group of his Slytherins had infiltrated Hufflepuff's quarters, unleashing a cascade of contraband bats upon their sleeping peers.
It had been a long night of doling out separate rounds with the paddle, bringing his resolve to the absolute brink when he laid down the last hard strike to the fifth and final sobbing offender.
Snape took a sip of his tea and shook his head at the memory, foolish teenagers.
"Very well," Snape finally said, standing from the table. "It's time I leave."
He had hoped Harry would leave it at that, but he was well acquainted with the boy's insufferable curiosity, making Harry's next question hardly a surprise.
"Before you go, will you please tell me what Narcissa wanted last night?" Harry set the paper down, saying the sentence as if it had been pinned up in his chest for years.
"That's not really your concern, is it, Potter?" Snape snipped, his tone laced with early exasperation.
"Maybe not," Harry said, crossing his arms as he moved to stand, "but I'm not sure I want to live with someone who is re-associating with the family who tried to murder me."
"Watch your tone," Snape chided.
Harry dropped his crossed arms, "It's unnerving, Professor Snape."
"Your concerns touch upon matters that are private— discussed in confidence." Snape said with an air of authority that allowed little room for protest.
Harry frowned, prompting Snape to raise an index finger in warning.
"The intricacies of my dealings with Narcissa are not something I intend to share freely. However, rest assured that you are in no harm, my involvement has nothing to do with you. Now, your focus today should be on your assigned tasks and essays. Need I remind you, this is part of your punishment for last night's transgressions, don't provoke further, less pleasant, additions to it."
"Professor Snape—"
"No, enough. You will have to grow accustomed to staying out of private matters, as you would have learned long, long ago, had you been sorted into Slytherin."
With that Snape turned on his heel and made his way to the front door, his shoes clacking firmly with each stride.
Harry frowned, eyeing the steaming teacup with the floating mint leaf… why was he in a hurry? Since when did Snape abandon freshly brewed tea?
"When will you be back?" Harry asked, watching Snape pull on his travel cloak.
"I'm not sure," Snape replied without turning to look back.
"Consider it a challenge though, Potter. Let's see if you can manage a day without igniting chaos. I'm more than certain your backside would appreciate the respite." Snape said over his shoulder, stepping out into the spring afternoon.
Harry grimaced as the heavy wooden door closed slowly behind Snape, the last licks of his
sweeping coat smacking against the bottom door frame as he disappeared.
Something was definitely up.
"Oh, ye, he was in here a few nights ago."
The scrappy older man said, nodding as he conjured up the conversation he'd had with gaunt looking blonde.
"Looking fer a Basilisk Scale."
He peered back down and gave Snape a scolding look.
"N' every other blasted ingredient for that ghastly brew."
Snape scoffed up at the shopkeeper who was hanging from the unsteady ladder, organizing his collection of slimy frog eyes.
At least Snape wouldn't have to worry about Draco becoming all that cunning in his solo exploration of the Dark Arts.
Snape pursed his lips in a line briefly then said, "I presume you gave him—"
"Chimaera tail."
The old scruffy man finished as he sloppily clamored down the creaking ladder, holding a jar of eyeballs.
Snape's dark eyes glimmered with cold fury.
"I got to tell ya Severus, he's rubbish at spotting ingredients. One of your students, is he?" He asked, setting the jar down on the cluttered counter.
The eyeballs quivered, bobbing up and down in the rancid looking liquid, glaring up at Snape with fictitious disdain.
Snape's jaw clenched at the condescension in the man's tone. "Indeed, he is."
"He needs another lesson or two, don't he?" The scruffy man gave a wry, ugly smile.
Snape gave him a blank cold stare, keeping his composure reserved despite the hot fury rising up in his chest.
"How bad was the explosion?" The man followed up, shoving a few decrepit spider carcasses off his counter space.
Snape let a brief pause hang in the air for a moment, peering down at the short man with his black daggers for eyes.
"It obliterated a shed on the property and surrounding garden, if you must know." Snape finally gritted out.
He certainly didn't owe the man an explanation but he was more than perturbed at the shopkeeper's jovial approach to such a serious matter.
The scruffy man let out a loud cackle, and it took all of Snape's willpower not to recoil from the overwhelming stench emanating from the man's rotting teeth.
"It could have killed him, his mother— endangered the neighbors— set the entire property on fire." Snape snapped, letting his tone speak for him.
The scruffy man waved his hand and rang up the jar of bobbing eyeballs.
"Bah, serves the little bugger right. He's got no business trying to brew that. You ought to know it."
Snape bit his tongue.
Draco was in a world of trouble.
Harry wiped the trickle of sweat off his forehead and moved to stand up. He yanked the gruff dirty garden gloves off his hands and tossed them under a wooden workbench.
His emerald eyes wandered about the greenhouse, doing a final inspection of the work he'd done.
Snape had been gone for a few hours and he was nearly done with the chores.
If there was one thing Harry could do quickly, it was chores.
He gave a nod of approval then shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and walked out the wooden door, letting it swing softly shut behind him.
Harry withdrew his wand and cast a locking spell on the greenhouse door.
Snape wouldn't be mad over a locking spell, right? Harry shrugged and slid his wand back into his pocket.
He made his way back to the house a little stiffly, his sore arse protesting every step of the way.
Merlin, last night was horrible.
Harry was incredibly grateful Snape had let him off with just the chores and essays, another spanking would have been unbearable on a backside as sore as his.
Harry swung through the back kitchen door and peeled off his shoes, giving them a little kick off the porch.
The final chore he needed to complete was mopping, then he could finish the ridiculous, guilt inducing, essays.
Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. Snape kept the kitchen floor so clean a high up from the Ministry could eat off it with no qualms. It seemed senseless to mop it but he sauntered over to the pantry anyway.
In the back corner, masked by the intoxicatingly sweet scent of lavender, lay a wooden handled mop and large oak bucket, tucked neatly behind the canned goods.
Harry snatched it up and walked to the sink. He desperately wanted to use a water spell to fill it but wisely decided against it.
Knowing Snape, the mop and other cleaning supplies might be charmed to detect the use of magic.
Soon the heavy bucket of water was filled to the brim, sloshing about the corners in little cold waves as Harry snapped off the sink spicket.
He was lost in thought, turning over the bits and pieces he could remember from last night's dream again.
It was strange, even with Snape out of the house, he felt a little embarrassed.
A lingering sense of disloyalty also clung to him as he remembered fragments of the vague dream where Snape had undoubtedly replaced the memory of his late father. Holding hands with his mother: talking, hugging, laughing… kissing.
Harry sighed, he felt bad for dreaming it.
Perhaps it was the hugging last night... yeah, he supposed that made sense. It was the first time Snape had ever embraced him, so his subconscious must have stolen it, twisted it into a confusing ball, and run wild.
Or, perhaps all that talk of a guiding hand and discipline, coupled with his sore backside, had triggered it... though that made a little less sense to Harry.
What baffled him the most though, was why he felt so happy in the dream… why… why did he wake up wishing he could go back into it?
Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head of moppy brown hair and refocusing himself on the task at hand.
Right as he lifted the heavy water bucket nearly clear from the sink's lip, the doorbell rang, startling him.
In a second, half the bucket of cold water tipped forward and splashed down the front of his shirt, soaking both his waist and trousers.
"Blimey!" Harry gasped at the sensation of the cold water biting his warm skin.
The doorbell chimed again, echoing in a sharp clang throughout the otherwise silent house.
Harry quickly set the bucket down, stepped over the puddle of glistening water and slowly withdrew his wand.
The sun shone vividly on the Malfoy property, illuminating the glistening black shingles on the towering rooftop.
Snape's dark eyes lingered on the scene, forcing away the sickly memories the dark home conjured.
A moment later he spotted Narcissa, standing in the distance amidst the rubble of the burnt down shed. Her red skirt licked up her white calves in the little whispers from the spring wind blowing about the lawn.
Snape took in the damaged scene, gritting his teeth as he made his way down the stone paved corridor.
Soon he was at Narcissa's side, his dark gaze traversing the tears slipping down her pale face.
"Good afternoon. I presume Draco won't be joining us here." Snape said, extending one of his clean handkerchiefs to her.
"Hello," Narcissa said as she shook her head and took the offered fabric square."No, he's in his room."
Snape gave a slow nod.
Of course he was in his room, where else might he be besides on his hands and knees cleaning up the shards of rubble in the blasted yard. Snape vowed to work with Narcissa on her expectations and consequences for the boy.
"I presume you failed to notify him of the purpose of my visit?" Snape asked in a low tone as he walked around the burnt rubble, his dark eyes scanning the blacked pile of wood.
Narcissa said nothing for a moment, blotting the tears from her eyes.
"If I had, he wouldn't be here," she said quietly, taking in a slight breath.
Snape's dark eyes shot up to meet hers, he hummed low with a note of disapproval.
"I see. You understand that this form of outright defiance must come to an end, yes?"
Narcissa nodded, glancing past Snape to the charcoal remnants of her favorite garden, the only safe haven she had left in the haunting manor, now ruined by the tall flames of fire that had encompassed the yard that dark night.
"You are his mother, Narcissa. If he would like to sustain the privilege of living with you, he must follow your explicit rules and instructions, without delay," Snape said sharply. "If he fails to do so, he must receive a firm, memorable consequence."
Snape softened his expression ever so slightly when she dropped her gaze to the rubble.
"It may feel challenging to enforce discipline now, but it will get easier. He will soon become accustomed to the spine you must grow." Snape finished, moving a section of a shattered glass vial with his boot clad toe.
Narcissa shot him a sharp but melancholy glance, "You know how Draco can be, Severus."
Snape scoffed, "Indeed I do, which brings me to our next point of discussion."
He walked slowly to Narcissa, closing the distance between them.
"I would implore you to stay out of earshot while I discipline Draco for this infraction."
A glimmer of apprehension flickered across Narcissa's hazel eyes.
Snape sighed, continuing, "My reasoning for this being— seeing as you summoned me here, he will undoubtedly try and appeal to your empathetic nature. I suspect it will be challenging for you not to interfere given his penchant for pitiful caterwauling."
Narcissa tried to keep the tears out of her eyes but in a few heavy blinks of her delicate lashes they returned.
"Very well. I don't doubt your reasoning… I-I hope he recognizes the severity of this," she said softly.
Snape hummed low and interlaced his fingers behind his back. Draco was hardly one for self reflection at the onset of a spanking.
"Given that he is exceptionally upset over Lucius and caught in a ridiculous spiral of teenage angst, it's doubtful he will fully grasp the severity until we're through." Snape noted.
Narcissa nodded and blotted a few more tears away with Snape's soft handkerchief.
"Once Draco understands the structure of this arrangement, I must insist you involve yourself further so he knows you won't accept his poor behavior." Snape said, moving his interlaced fingers to the front of his waist.
Narcissa took a deep breath. "The threat of calling you should be sufficient enough, no?"
Snape made a concerted effort not to roll his eyes.
"No. Given your son's nature, he'll undoubtedly attempt to dissuade you from contacting me. It's imperative that he faces discipline from you as well. As a skilled witch, I trust in your capacity to administer it effectively."
A soft silence hung in the windy spring air as licks of ashes and soot flurried up in black plumes around their feet.
"I've never been a part of it." Narcissa said quietly, letting her sober gaze rest on the burnt down garden space. "When Lucius gave him the cane I couldn't bear to be in the house."
Snape drew in a subtle tight breath at the unexpected memories her statement conjured up, recalling each time his mother conveniently left the dark, cold home when his father rounded on him.
Snape pondered her statement for a moment.
"I don't doubt hearing him cry is disheartening," Snape said, his softer tone catching Narcissa off guard. "However, the reason I'm here is because he lacks respect for you. In order for this to be effective, you must re-instill it."
Narcissa nodded, considering his words.
"As you're aware, my approach to corporal punishment differs from Lucius'. I'll take Draco over my knee, a method I've employed on numerous occasions. It imparts the necessary lesson without the severity of a caning. While it may pose a challenge, considering it's his first encounter with the strap, he'll manage and glean the intended lesson. If you would like guidance, I am confident you can employ the same disciplinary technique in the coming months."
Narcissa raised her soft brows slightly, casting Snape a skeptical glance.
"You possess a wooden hairbrush, do you not?" Snape asked, glancing around the rubble once more.
"I do," Narcissa replied softly. "That's all I would need?"
"It would surely suffice. We may discuss this more before I leave today, if it pleases you." Snape said, motioning for Narcissa to follow him back up to the manor.
Narcissa nodded, moving slowly to trail behind.
"I'd like that, Severus," she said, taking him by surprise.
"Tell me, were you able to make out what he attempted to brew?" She followed up, hoping the burnt book she'd given him had held some clues.
Snape paused, giving her a flinty expression.
"Indeed. Are you familiar with Wraith Elixir?"
Narcissa's cherry red lips parted, a little gasp escaping them.
Quickly, the faint color she had in her pale, grief stricken face, drained away.
Harry smiled wide as he swung the heavy wooden door open, "Ron!" He said, almost laughing at the relief of seeing him.
"Hey Harry," Ron smiled, then frowned when he glanced down. "What's gotten all over your trousers?"
Harry shrugged. "Oh, I was about to mop and I spilled a bucket of water."
"Ah," Ron said then peered inside, closing more distance between him and Harry, "treating ya like a right slave, is he?"
Harry chuckled at the way Ron had finished his sentence in a whisper.
"Get in, he's not home." Harry said, pulling Ron in the entryway by his arm.
"I'm surprised you're alive, mate," Ron admonished, looking Harry over from head to toe. "He didn't beat on you did he?"
Harry knew Ron was teasing but he couldn't stop himself from flushing.
He turned on his heel quickly, trying to keep his reddening face from Ron.
"No," Harry said, waving over his shoulder, "come see the kitchen."
Hermione always scolded Ron for not picking up on subtle cues; had she been there now, this certainly would have been one of those times.
"Nice place he's got here," Ron said, his bright eyes wandering all over the space, "you sure you're living with Snape and not some homegoods woman on Polyjuice potion?"
Harry laughed, crouching below the sink to grab a towel. He stood, patting his shirt off first then rubbing down the rest of his trousers while Ron wandered around.
After a few vigorous moments of blotting at the water, he gave up.
"I need to change," Harry said, tossing the towel on the counter.
"Could've told you that," Ron replied, wandering into the pantry, his eyes darting across the perfectly labeled ingredients.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Don't touch anything, I'll be back."
He only made it two strides before Ron was on him, blocking the way out.
"You're not leaving me downstairs while you disappear up there," Ron motioned up to the wooden staircase. "What if he comes back?"
"Oh, Ron, come off it," Harry said, suddenly, shockingly, getting a bit defensive. "He hasn't killed me, has he? He's not so bad."
Ron gaped at him, "Harry I know he sacrificed a lot for you–"
"A whole lot," Harry cut back in, crossing his arm. "He risked his life every day for me."
Ron let out an exasperated sigh. "Right, yeah, but he was still a major arse while doing it. Sorry, but I look at him and I still see the greasy git he's always been. I'm not past all the things he's said to you and 'Mione and me."
Harry let the tension in his shoulders relax some, as he uncrossed his arms, remembering how he first felt when McGonagall suggested he should live with Snape.
Ron had always been his most loyal mate. He couldn't blame him for feeling resentful and suspicious. He'd felt suspicious too, at first.
However, after his initial experience over Snape's knee in the classroom, a meaningful shift occurred between them. A longstanding disciplinary boundary had finally been crossed, imparting a new lesson on trust to Harry. The vulnerability and pain he felt, coupled with the subsequent comfort Snape provided, gave Harry an unusual sense of security with the once harsh Potions Master. Oddly enough, along with the Pensieve revelation, the spanking played a crucial role in solidifying his trust in Snape, something he never would have anticipated before going through the painful ordeal.
"It's complicated, Ron," Harry said, letting out a little breath, "he's… he's different with me now. I don't know how to really prove it to you but I like living with him."
Thankfully, that was enough for Ron to nod, tossing his hands up in acquiescence.
"Right, mate, if you say so."
Harry smiled and gave Ron a little clap on the back, "Come on then. Let me change, and I'll give you the grand tour."
Ron smiled and turned to follow Harry out of the kitchen.
A few moments later, after plenty of quips from Ron about the study, the library, the paintings and the bathroom, the pair swung the top door to Harry's bedroom wide open.
Ron peered in. "Wow, Harry," he said, walking over to the circular window, "this is spacious."
"It is, isn't it?" Harry said, moving quickly to his top drawer while Ron was distracted by the view of the front yard.
"He's got a fish pond?" Ron asked with a hint of bewilderment pervading his tone. "You're sure this is Snape you're living with?"
"He's full of surprises," Harry muttered, snapping open the top drawer and fishing quickly for a fresh pair of trousers and socks.
Harry did his best to keep the implements from shifting around and making any noise as his face lit up in a dark red hue. He cast a quick glance at Ron, relieved to see him still peering out the window.
"The driveway is so long," Ron said, moving over to the center of the window to get a better look.
"Mm-hmm," Harry replied half heartedly, suddenly confused by what he felt, or rather didn't feel, in the drawer.
The paddle was there and the brush was there… but the strap was… gone?
Harry buried his hand through the drawer with renewed vigor, feeling all over for the cold, menacing strip of leather.
Where the bloody hell did it go?
It was there this morning… wasn't it?
"Not finding pants?" Ron finally asked, turning back to face Harry with his brows furrowed slightly.
Harry said nothing for a minute, running his hand over and under the cotton fabrics of the drawer until he was completely convinced it wasn't there.
He snapped the drawer shut quickly as Ron made his way across the room.
"Um, no I got them," Harry said, pants in hand, dropping to the ground to peer under the dresser.
Ron perked up, watching Harry scour the floor.
"Lose something then?" He asked, watching Harry turn to look under his bed.
"Uh," Harry started, shooting up to his feet and walking to his desk.
Maybe I left it in the drawer? Harry thought.
It was possible, he guessed, but he swore he'd picked it up when Snape had told him to last night.
Harry pulled open the bottom drawer— no strap.
"I, um, was just looking for my… my wand." Harry said, pulling his hands up to his hips and looking fervently around the room.
"Isn't it there?" Ron said, motioning to Harry's front wet pocket.
"Oh," Harry faked surprise, letting his fingers tap the wooden stick. "So it is. Don't know how I didn't feel it."
Ron waved his hand, "That happens to me sometimes."
Hermione would have slapped Ron's arm if she had been there. Subtly was not his specialty.
Harry's brows stayed tense for a moment longer, questions spiraling in his always working mind.
As Ron moved on, rattling off all the things he found peculiar or strange that Snape possessed, Harry's gaze lingered on the dresser drawer, thinking back to the empty space where the strap should have been.
It only took a moment more before an unspoken realization settled over him, connecting the dots between Narcissa's unexpected visit, Snape's unusual behavior, and the mysteriously absent strap.
Harry almost shuddered as the ominous picture slowly formed in his curious mind.
Poor Draco.
Author's notes: Hello lovelies! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, as it was my pleasure to write it.
Prior to delving into this fantastic world of creative writing, I primarily occupied my time constructing scripts (sadly, w/out spanking scenes ;). If you aren't familiar with screenplays, they are (at least in my mind) miles away from descriptive writing such as this. Every action is propelled by dialogue, and deep emotional descriptions are sparse, as it is a much more' show' vs. 'tell' medium, relying on the dialogue, shots, and performers to propel the story to the intensity it warrants. While writing this chapter, I employed a bit of my script-writing approach to cutting between Harry & Snape's separate days. I enjoyed breaking scenes and blending two storylines at once—not that this will be the case going forward, but it was sure fun!
As always, I'm so grateful for your engagement, love, and enthusiasm for this story. Hamlet, I love your idea for the playful 1-2 stroke cane scene. Not sure when I'll get that written in this series but I most definitely will. Thank you for the idea! Silene-Ashikawa, I'm happy to have you following along for this story even though you didn't initially think it would be for you. I hope you continue to enjoy it! I'm not certain what's happened to the desktop version of ch. 13, but I'm trying to sort it out (thank you for letting me know!). If you prefer to read desktop I do have this posted on Ao3 too. Goldflame, your review (as always) touched me! Thank you so very much for sharing your thoughts. I hope Snape's morning punishment for Harry met your expectations. MusicMelis, I too am delighted you found this story! I saw that you have quite a few works of your own posted that I'm looking forward to reading once my schedule dies down a bit. They look fantastic!
Much love to each and every one of you! Have a wonderful week. I'll be back with more next Sunday 3