[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic, 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: Just as an extra precaution, the spanking scene in this chapter is a bit intense.
Chapter 32: Facing the Fallout
A delicate hush pressed itself into every wall, encompassing every room of the house. The lengthy days of unending storms had ceased their assault upon the muddied grounds and stone covered roof, making the soft silence all the more palpable. Extending his calloused palm out, Snape twisted the cold handle to Harry's room and swept the door open.
He'd ascended the stairs with purposeful strides, shoulders square with resolve. After a contemplative walk to his potions storage, any growing trace of pity for Harry had been fully uprooted. One look around the disheveled vials and ransacked ingredients anchored him in the stark reality that Ronald Weasley nearly died due to Harry's sheer refusal to heed instructions. So, he steeled his resolve— willed himself not to fall prey to any needless sympathy and strode into the room.
With a resonant click, he shut the bedroom door, the sound echoing through the somber silence. Harry sat solemnly on the far side of his bed, absentmindedly tapping his wand against the front of his thigh.
The snap of his door shutting drew his attention from a vacant spot on the wall. It hadn't been too long, maybe half an hour, since he had been sent to his room to wait. But those minutes crawled by like days, amplifying his unease in the solitude.
His thoughts were a knot of anticipation and resignation. He knew this would be dreadful—painful and embarrassing, as each trip over Snape's knee had been. But he also clung to the fact that it would soon be over. He could manage a smacking; he had before. What worried him more than the punishment itself though was the inevitable fallout—not knowing how Snape would treat him afterward.
What if things went back to the way they were before? What if Snape didn't want his help with potions, or in the greenhouse, or with dinners? What if—
"Did you take this time to consider your actions?" Snape's deep voice cut through his spiral of thoughts.
Harry swallowed, setting his wand down on his nightstand with a soft thud. "Yes, sir."
Snape offered a slow nod before turning and making his way toward Harry's desk, his measured steps echoing softly on the wooden floor. The crackle of the fire, still warming the coals in the stone-encased mantel, intermingled with the quiet hush of the room.
"Come here, Harry," he instructed.
Steeling his bout of nerves, Harry slid off the soft comforter and pushed himself to his feet. Dread coiled within him as Snape pulled the armless chair out from under his desk. Though his back remained turned, as Snape rolled up the sleeves of his gray sweater, Harry caught a fleeting glimpse of the faded Dark Mark— still as prominent as the scar on his own forehead. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but find a touch of irony in the fact that he, the famous Boy Who Lived, was about to receive yet another smacking over the knee of a former Death Eater—his most hated professor before the close of the war, at that. It was almost too surreal to believe.
The wind swept against the stone-covered home, its zephyr-like sound blending with the rhythm of Harry's steps as he made his way forward. He tried not to feel so unnerved when Snape settled his hand onto the backrest of the chair and turned face to him. Passing the fireplace, Harry noticed the warmth encompassing this side of the room— a little comfort amidst the river of cold dread.
He reached Snape and met him with dejected resolve. It was a challenge to see that look of disappointment in the dark eyes that had become so comforting to him. Drawing in a small breath, Harry willed away the impending tears. His emotions had been so raw lately, so seemingly fragile. Maybe they stemmed from the close of the war, now that he was finally free to feel them. Maybe they were unavoidable, a natural reaction to the incoming punishment. Or maybe, perhaps, they came from the realization that Snape was filling a role in his life he'd given up on—a shattered hope that ended when Sirius fell through the veil. And he had just messed things up again.
Harry didn't know.
Picking up the chair, Snape interrupted his thoughts and motioned towards the dresser.
"Retrieve the strap."
The instruction filled Harry with unease, sucking the wind from his chest and grounding him back in the moment.
Snape stepped past him, chair in hand, without a hint of resignation in his expression. Soon a thud echoed through the room as he positioned the wooden chair to the side of the bed, ensuring it was flush with the mattress. This alignment would facilitate a more supportive position for Harry, akin to the one he had been placed in for the paddling. With his chest on the bed and his lower body bent over Snape's thigh, he would be better positioned for the spanking.
Forcing himself to obey, Harry walked over to his dresser, slid open the drawer, and collected the worn, pliable leather strap with a grimace. It felt heavy in his sweat-laced hands as he made his way back to Snape, sick with dread.
Snape assessed the shaken boy standing before him, noting the flicker of empathy that threatened to rise within his chest. He set his jaw, dosing the feeling with firm resolve. Harry had to learn, he needed to understand the severity of breaking rules, his rules, at that.
"Are you feeling stable?"
"Stable?" Harry asked, fidgeting with the strap held loosely by his side.
"Yes, stable," Snape reiterated, his tone low and steady. "Are you feeling capable enough to receive your punishment?"
Harry swallowed thickly. Snape's demeanor had relaxed some from the sternness in the kitchen, which should have been a relief, but it only served to intensify the fraying of his composure.
"Yes," he replied, though his wavering voice betrayed him. "I'm fine, sir."
"It's understandable to feel unsettled," Snape countered, observing Harry's behavior. He motioned for him to hand over the strap. "Especially given the events that transpired this morning. If you need more time to compose yourself, I shall give you it."
Harry passed over the strap, then crossed his arms loosely, wrapping them around the lower portion of his chest.
"No, er, I'm alright sir. I… I'll manage."
Drawing in a small breath Snape forced himself to remain calm as he took a seat on the wooden chair, the movement sending a sharp jolt of trepidation through Harry.
"This isn't about simply managing your punishment; it's about learning from it." He chided, his tone a touch sharper.
"I understand," Harry looked down. "I'll do better."
"Will you?" Snape leaned back in the chair. "I recall a similar promise made after I took a switch to you and Draco, and yet, not two weeks later, you're in for the strap following a show of inexcusable disobedience. Concerning, wouldn't you agree?"
Shame ignited, flushing Harry's face with embarrassment.
"I… I know. I'm sorry." He uncrossed his arms and reached up to rub his neck. "This is still rather new for me, this whole… discipline situation."
"Yes, I am painfully aware," Snape drawled, setting the strap down on the soft comforter of Harry's bed.
"Snape, look, I know I messed up again. But I just wanted to help Ron. I didn't mean to—"
"Silence. You didn't 'mean' to steal from me?" Snape pressed, his tone dripping with fresh severity. "I suppose you accidentally scaled the wall and slipped through the window I left open, all while not 'meaning' to. Well then, in that scarcely credible case, perhaps you do not deserve a punishment at all. Perhaps I ought to consider giving you a reward instead for your unintentional disobedience."
Harry moved to speak but Snape stopped him with a raised finger pointed up at his chest.
"Intention does not erase the impact of your actions, Harry Potter. Weasley could have lost his life today, and the reason for that is abundantly clear."
The room fell oppressively silent, with only the faint crackle of the coals popping against the fabric of tension. Harry assumed it was a rhetorical statement, so he waited, feeling a sense of anticipation twist his stomach.
"You," Snape uttered quietly, "have grown far too accustomed to defying authority figures and taking unnecessary risks in your life."
Harry glanced at his feet, running his thumb along the cobalt blue sleeve of his shirt. He couldn't very well disagree with that. But he had reasons—damn good reasons—for doing things his own way during the war, at school too. Now hardly seemed like the time to defend himself though.
Snape paused, thinking for a moment.
"Over the years, I kept watch over you, Harry, and during that time, you managed to turn it into an absolute migraine of a task. Careening after Quirrell. Squaring off with a rampaging troll. Crashing a flying car onto the school grounds. Entering the chamber of secrets to perform a near-fatal rescue mission. Reckless escapades past curfew. Sneaking around in that infernal cloak. Not to mention rendering me unconscious in the Shrieking Shack so you could hear Black out for yourself. Your impulsive actions nearly drove me to utter madness. Many of which, I might add, were completely unnecessary. That reckless portion of your life ends today. I shall not permit you to do as you please this summer, endangering yourself and others in the process, no matter what your 'intention' is. You understand?"
Harry chewed on the inner fold of his cheek. Though he'd wanted to defend himself earlier, there was something about the way Snape was looking at him, the tone he spoke in—it, well it struck a chord. In that moment, his thoughts were thrust back to the Pensieve, back to the pools of memories he'd plunged into during the final battle. He had no idea Snape had protected him over the years, watched him closely, and risked everything to keep him safe. Whether it was solely out of devotion to his mother's memory, or stemming from a deeply buried care back then, Harry was bombarded with the desire to fix this—to preserve the fragile connection they'd found in the aftermath of the war.
"I understand, Professor Snape," he said, fighting back tears with a sword of resolve. "I'm genuinely sorry for this."
"I should hope so," Snape replied sharply.
Had Weasley lost his life we'd be having a very different conversation. You carry far too much guilt as it stands, Potter. Unintentionally killing your friend would have wrecked you. Absolutely destroyed you. His thoughts practically screamed, though he fought off the urge to say them.
Acknowledging Harry's survivor's guilt, Snape reasoned that pressing too hard about what may have happened to Weasley would only serve to add to the trauma Harry carried close. He needed to keep the lesson on Harry's disobedience, not a 'what if'. A grave, terrifyingly likely, 'what if'.
"Do you understand why your actions merit severe consequences?"
"Yes, sir. I do."
"Explain my reasoning then." Snape directed, pushing past his own emotions. "Why do I need to discipline you?"
Harry let out a shaky breath.
"Because I chose to break the rules. I behaved poorly, er, recklessly and…and, I don't know what I would've done if Ron didn't… if you couldn't wake him up."
Snape hummed low, and Harry shifted— tapping his fingers along the front of his thigh.
"I know I'm reckless at times. I don't always think things through… I hate to take Hermione's job, y'know," he offered a weak smile. "Um, I've put myself in danger before, and it hasn't always ended well. And… I didn't mean to, er, no— sorry, I didn't want to ruin things between us. I know we didn't like each other when I was younger, but it's different now. I appreciate everything you've done to keep me safe. I'm sorry I messed this up again. I feel bloody awful, really, I do. I did right after I took them. Beforehand too, I felt terrible about it."
Snape offered a slight nod, his expression softening.
Blasted, needless, senseless, pity. He stole from you, he disobeyed, he lied.
Lied. For. Weeks.
Yet, despite his firm resolve, Snape found himself accepting the apology— feeling moved by it. He never anticipated that Harry would care so much to preserve the relationship they were cultivating. His words were undoubtedly genuine, as evidenced by his pleading emerald eyes that practically begged to be believed.
"Very well," said Snape, his tone far less harsh. "I expect you to back such reflection with action. You will need to prove your commitment to learning from this."
"I will, sir." Harry said quickly, desperate to show how much he meant it.
An intense urge to reassure Harry overwhelmed Snape then, despite his inclination to withhold sentiment until the end of the punishment.
"Contrary to the inaccurate conclusions your brilliant mind leaps to," Snape sighed, feigning exasperation. "I do not intend to walk out of your life solely because you've made a mistake. As grave as that mistake may be, you are still young, and I recognize that. You have not obliterated 'things' between us, as you so eloquently put it. You've damaged trust, that much is obvious, but it's rebuildable."
Relief swept through every corner of Harry's body. Thank Merlin, he hadn't blown this all to hell. Seeing the start of emotions threatening to overwhelm the boy, Snape steeled himself.
"However, being young is no excuse for reckless disobedience, is it?"
"No… sir."
"No, indeed. Go set your glasses on the desk."
Harry complied, his stomach a sinkhole of trepidation again.
Bloody hell, he didn't want to be smacked. Even if he knew he deserved it.
"Come here," said Snape, guiding him to stand between his knees.
"Do you have anything else to say for yourself?"
"No, sir."
"You recall the rules you are required to obey?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very well. Pull your trousers and pants down," Snape motioned to his left thigh, keeping his expression firm. "Then bend over."
Harry popped the gleaming metal clasp of his trousers with fumbling fingers. He made quick work of his garments, holding Snape's shoulder for balance as he stripped them off and gave them a small kick out of the way.
He wasn't sure if it was the reassurance that Snape didn't hate him again, or the relief of finally getting this over with, but he wasn't feeling as utterly embarrassed as he normally did when he took his pants down. Harry bent over, his chest settling on the bed, with his backside elevated over Snape's thigh. A fleeting moment of reprieve washed over him as the cool air swept across his exposed skin, offering the last bit of comfort before the area was consumed with heat. He drew in a shallow breath as Snape pulled him closer to his hip.
"Tuck your legs in," said Snape.
He did.
His heart thumped in his chest as the hem of his shirt dragged up and the familiar warm palm came to rest on the lower portion of his bare back.
Merlin, why did I fucking do this? Why didn't I just ask— he was already making the bloody potions.
Harry huffed with fresh frustration over his lack of judgment, gathering the soft comforter between his palms as he waited.
Glancing down at Harry's upended bum, Snape took note of the light blush left lingering from the strikes of the ruler. Feeling firm in his conviction, he adjusted their position and readied himself to make this punishment a memorable one.
"I'm thoroughly disappointed in you, Harry Potter," he intoned, his voice low and unwavering. "You disobeyed me, lied to me and stole from me. And in doing so, you not only endangered a life, but you trampled on the trust we've built this month. How utterly unbefitting for the person you've proven yourself to be."
Harry tucked his head down into the crook of his arm and bit his lip. Snape's disappointed gaze always stung, but hearing those words hurt more than the sharp swats that followed.
"I," Harry swallowed, eyes pinched shut as the start of forceful smacks echoed against the stillness of the room— igniting a deeply personal sting in his skin. "I'm s-sorry. I didn't want to."
A biting heat rapidly spread across the expanse of his bum as Snape smacked, making him groan. These were hard swats, leaving no room to question how much trouble he was truly in.
"Yes, so you've said," Snape remarked, concentrating five blistering smacks to one side of his reddening bum then the other. "But, regardless, you did. And you will pay the price for such an inexcusable transgression."
Harry winced against the building burn, struggling to maintain his composure. He stayed quiet except for his short huffs of discomfort when the sharp smacks overlapped. Snape brought his palm down with force, methodically covering every inch of his warming skin. He remained still as long as he could but the spreading pain soon became harder to take.
"If you willingly break my rules for the presumed benefit of someone else again, I certainly won't bother stinging my palm against your backside, Harry," said Snape firmly, continuing the volley of smacks across his tender sit-spots. "The brush will come out regardless if the strap follows or not."
He punctuated his warning with eight full strength smacks.
"Ow—oww!" Harry's hips shifted and his back foot kicked up. He let out a sharp breath and stomped it down against the cedar floor.
"Enough," Snape chided, swatting his thighs. "You keep yourself still, young man. You have more than earned this."
Another series of fast slaps cracked down, shooting a vivid heat through Harry's tender spanked bum.
"It's— owww, ah," Harry grimaced, the words escaping between clenched teeth. His voice strained with discomfort as Snape continued with the unrelenting smacks.
It burned, burned bad, and he felt awful—so awful.
"It's h-hard."
"Indeed," Snape replied, smacking without missing a beat. "However, if you do not wish for me to hold your legs down—"
"No, Snape, that's not what I m-mean," Harry cut in sharply, then cringed when he realized his mistake.
He felt his hips raise up as Snape propped the knee he was bent over a little higher.
No, no, no— fuck.
Harry held his breath as a slew of awful smacks rained down on his sensitive thighs, the area bursting with pain under Snape's punishing hand.
"Ah— uh, s-sorry!" Harry yelped, forcing himself to lay obediently still. "Ow, owww— ow!"
After a painstakingly long minute of biting smacks, Snape lowered his leg down and paused, briefly resting his palm across the top of Harry's throbbing skin.
"Do not," Snape's voice was dangerously stern, "interrupt me again."
Harry nodded, feeling his stomach drop. His entire arse ached—burned, felt hot to the touch. Snape had never spanked him this hard with his hand before. Never.
Tears welled up, threatening to spill over, but he fought them back, determined to maintain his composure until the strap came down.
"'M sorry, sir." He whispered, gripping the fabric of his comforter tightly in his palms.
"Very well then. Go ahead," Snape replied, his tone measured. "What is it that you wish to convey?"
Harry drew in a shaky breath and swallowed hard. Sensing he was close to tears, Snape moved to rub slow circles across his back. A small, faint pang of pity washed over him as he glanced down at the deep redness now painted across Harry's thighs.
Focusing on the comforting touch, Harry tried to keep his mind off the pulsing heat across his punished bum.
"I," he huffed, feeling his voice crack with emotion. "If my friends need my help, I can't… it's a bit hard for me to say 'no' to them. That's what I meant to say, sir."
Harry shifted a little, wincing at the sensation of Snape's calloused palm resting against his stinging bum. He half-expected Snape to start spanking again, to resume those hard, merciless smacks. But he didn't, not yet.
Instead, Snape simply hummed low and continued with the soothing circles across his back, his touch gentler.
"Indeed," he murmured, his voice tinged with a rare tenderness. "I expect it would be challenging for a boy to refuse the requests of his friends, or anyone else, when he has been conditioned to believe that his feelings hold little importance compared to the needs of the world. You have spent much of your teenage years burdened by an unreasonable sense of obligation to others, Harry. Exercising restraint, when necessary, will be difficult for you now that the war has concluded. I understand."
And Snape did, truly. Though he had always looked at Harry with the blinders of his past, believing his own biases about the boy's character, a month out of the war had led him to realize how utterly wrong he had been all this time. The accountability Harry took, and the sincerity of his apologies, showcased a young man far different from the father he was born to.
Harry had managed to hold back the flood of emotions as he endured the first part of his punishment, but those words struck him with unexpected force. His breath hitched, and his emerald eyes filled with hot tears as Snape's understanding washed over him.
"However, if you insist on continuing with heroics," Snape continued, his voice regaining a touch of sternness, "you will, and absolutely must, learn to say 'no' when your sense of obligation to help others prompts you to defy rules and authority. While I presume many previous figures in your life would have commended your intentions today, disregarding the reckless route you took to help Weasley, I will not afford you that same luxury, young man. Lies, disobedience, theft— how utterly inexcusable. Unlike others who have dealt with you before, I will take the time to correct you when you need it. I shall teach you how to listen this summer and to think critically before rushing headlong into poor choices, even if it ends in many painful trips over my knee."
Harry nodded; his throat tight with suppressed sobs. Without waiting for an audible response, Snape resumed spanking, each blow landing with a sharp crack, firm and heavy against Harry's tender skin.
"Right, o-okay—I know, sir," Harry soon sputtered out, his words now laced with wet tears. "Ow, ow!"
A crimson hue stretched from the top of his bum to midway down his thighs and it burned. Knowing they were nearing the end of this portion, Snape intensified the next round of smacks, intent on impressing upon Harry the severity of his actions.
"Snape! Not s-o— ow, it h-urts," Harry cried through the slew of awful smacks. Merlin, Snape could smack bloody hard when he wanted to. Harry flinched between each one, gasping in pain.
"Oww- ow, ow, I'm s-sorry!"
"Good, you ought to be."
"I- I, b-bloody hell— I won't do it again!"
"No, you most certainly will not."
"Ah— owww! Ow! Blimeyy."
"Stay still." Snape commanded. "Put your feet down. No— move them out of the way, Harry. Enough kicking."
Harry tried, he did, but it hurt so bad. His backside throbbed with a fiery intensity he never thought a hand smacking could inflict— it was miserable. He was miserable. And he was sorry, so incredibly sorry for all of it.
He mumbled a string of apologies out, folding into a broken round of sobs. The cedar flooring felt cool beneath his feet as he planted them back in place. All the tightness in his shoulders fell as he surrendered to Snape's discipline. It stung, an awful ache that left him feeling thoroughly punished. He felt sick thinking Ron nearly died, and he wanted to kick himself for believing this was his sole responsibility to handle. With his wet face pressed tightly into the plush comforter of his bed, Harry vowed to listen to his instincts more often. They had gnawed at him for weeks, warning him of the utter stupidity it would be to steal from Snape. But he had ignored them, stomped them down and justified his decision all the way until the end. Never again would he do that. It was hard to trust adults, but he would try now. At least try with Snape.
Finally, after several long minutes, the spanking stopped. Snape's warm came to rest a bit higher on his back, offering a steady rhythm of pats as he muttered reassurances down to the sobbing boy.
"Very well," said Snape, his voice low and stern. "Take a breath. We're nearly through."
Harry obeyed, drawing in a deep one.
Snape surveyed the reddened skin, the empathy in his chest growing to a level he could no longer snuff out. Harry was crying hard— so hard, trembling as he worked to control the storm of buried emotions now flooding him with force.
Eight, that was the number Snape had decided that Harry would receive with the strap. He had a few evening punishments coming, and though they wouldn't be anything nearly as hard as this, they would make up for the lower amount. It was fair, he reasoned, hell, he'd given out twenty strikes before. Draco had gotten eleven and his pain tolerance was half that of Harry's.
But… seeing Lily's son so stricken with grief, so seemingly small and broken after bearing years of unimaginable burdens, well, it took that number from eight to five. Marking the first time Severus Snape ever broke his own resolve over a punishment.
"Stand up for me."
Harry's stomach twisted into a ball at the instruction, but he complied, pushing up on steady legs. He glanced down at his blurry bed when Snape stood too, feeling overwhelmed by the sight of the strap.
Fuck, I can't. I don't want to. Merlin, why did I take those damn potions?
The spanking had hurt plenty. But this? This was going to be awful.
"Look at me." Snape said firmly.
Harry was facing the bed, arms crossed down in front. He glanced up at Snape who had moved the chair and stepped in its place to the left of him. Harry's face was flushed, his cheeks stained with tear tracks, but he'd managed to collect himself. He was still crying, but no longer sobbing.
Snape reached out and gently took hold of Harry's chin, tilting it upward to meet his dark gaze. There was a softness in his touch, a subtle but firm guidance as he spoke the final words of his message.
"I know this hurts," he said, the timber of his voice bringing another flood of tears down Harry's face. "However, you are taking it well and demonstrating commendable accountability for your actions. This last portion is intended to help you remember the severity of what transpired as a result of your disobedience. Do you understand?"
Harry glanced down, nodding into Snape's grip, he couldn't get words out through the new rush of tears.
"Give me a verbal answer, Harry."
He sucked in a short breath and looked back up through the blur of warm tears.
"I," another deep breath in. "I u-understand, Snape. I'm s-so s-orry."
Snape nodded, letting go of the boy's chin and giving the back of his neck a reassuring squeeze.
"I would drape you over my knee, but it may prove too challenging for you to stay in place."
Harry's stomach tightened, but he whispered 'okay.'
Snape leaned over and grabbed a pillow.
"Lie down on your stomach," he said, gesturing towards the bed. "You may rest your head on this."
Harry complied, his aching bum protesting at the movement. The comforter felt deceptively soft underneath his bare skin, a stark contrast to the impending pain. He criticized his nerves, reminding himself that he had endured far worse in the past. After all, he was Harry Potter, he had faced the Cruciatus Curse more than once— survived death itself. He could handle this; it would be over quick.
"Bring your hands to the base of your back."
Snape collected the strap. It swept off the comforter by Harry's side, making his stomach roll.
"Good," said Snape when he slid his hands in place. He pressed Harry's wrists down in a tight hold. "You will receive five strikes. Count out each one."
Five?
Harry tilted his head to the side, sucking in a tear laced breath.
"Only f-five?" He heard himself saying, his voice cracked.
"Only five?" Snape's tone, though typically stern, carried a hint of unexpected compassion as he replied, "The number is appropriately severe. Unless, of course, you believe a few more would help cement this lesson."
"N-no," Harry croaked out fast.
Thank Merlin. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't just five smacks.
"No, s-sir."
Right, okay. Five is nothing, I can handle five.
"Very well. Endeavor to remain still—don't hold your breath. Do I make myself clear?
"R-right, er, yessir." said Harry, pinching his wet eyes shut when he felt Snape shift beside him.
He heard it first, the swish followed by the loud crack of leather on his skin. For a half a second, he didn't register the pain.
Then it hit.
"AH!" Harry instantly jerked his legs, his back tightening as the hot lash ignited a fire in the center of his sore skin.
"Oww, owwww—bleeding h-hell!" he gasped, "Snape, n-no- I'm s-sorry!"
No, no, no not five, fivewas going to be unbearable.
"Count, Harry," Snape tightened his grip, pursing his lips into a tight line at the sight of the dark red bar now prominent across Harry's bum.
"O-one." Harry said when he caught his breath, pressing his tear-soaked face into the pillow.
Snape should have made him add 'sir,' should've been a bit firmer, he thought, but he wanted this over and done with. With determination, he pulled the strap back up and whipped it down with the same force.
"Ah! M— Merlin! Ow!" Harry cried out, the punishing impact leaving him reeling in pain as he pushed against Snape's hold, desperate to get away from the burn. "T-two!"
Snape held him tightly in place, tapping the strap lower on his sore bum then pulling it back. The third whip landed just below the last, catching Harry across his horribly sore sit-spots.
"Owwww, f-fu-ck!" He sobbed out, his shoulders trembling. "M sorry s-o-sorry! S-Snape, owww- ow- ple-ase, I, I…"
Snape took hold of Harry's hands rather than his wrists as he often did for Draco. Despite his typical stance against curses during discipline, he forgave the slip.
"Give me a number, young man."
Harry coughed, choking on tears as he forced out, "Thr-ee."
"Now, you listen closely," said Snape in a hushed, stern voice. "You are going to obey me going forward, Harry Potter. This is not Hogwarts, and you are no longer a child. Reckless rule breaking will not be tolerated in my home— I will not permit it. You understand?"
Harry's breath was coming out in short stops, huffs of shaky emotion, but he swallowed hard and said, "Yes, s-sir."
"What can you expect to happen if you willfully disobey me again?"
"T-this."
"Correct. And is this worth it?"
"No, no," he said vehemently, "i-it's not. Th-this hurts s-s-soh bad."
Harry shifted his hips, desperate to relieve some of the searing pain.
Losing Weasley would have hurt far, far worse.
With that thought in mind, Snape tightened his grip on the strap, his expression firm as he drew it back. The crack of leather against Harry's skin echoed through the room, the fourth strike landing with a force that surpassed the others.
"AH!" Harry yelled, his body jerking involuntarily, the sudden jolt of pain leaving him sobbing.
One more, one more— just one more, he told himself, struggling to utter the count of 'four' through his tears.
Snape, pained by Harry's cries, delivered the fifth strike without waiting for the count, tightening his grip on Harry's hands as he did so.
"OW!" Fucking helllll, Harry kicked his legs against the tangled-up bedding beneath him.
After the initial shock following the final smack, he released a watery gasp, his body tensing involuntarily as a wave of awful pain radiated through his already sore skin.
It's over, it's over— it's over.
It took him more than a few tear-soaked breaths to regain control of his voice.
"F-five," he eventually coughed out, the words catching in his throat.
Finally, it was over— he got through it.
Snape, his own chest heavy with the weight of the punishment, remained silent as he allowed Harry a minute to collect himself after the final smack. He tossed the strap down at the foot of the bed and released Harry's sweat-laced palms.
Discretion to the wind, Harry yanked his hands back to rub at the swollen burn spread so evenly over his bum. He continued to cry, his entire body shaking with the aftermath of the punishment.
Snape's expression softened with genuine concern as the hushed room became permeated by Harry's bitter sobbing. Without hesitation, he knelt down beside the bed, placing a steady hand on the boy's trembling shoulder.
"Harry," Snape murmured, his voice unexpectedly gentle compared to the earlier sternness. "Come now, we're through. You took your punishment well, very well indeed."
Snape's touch, though uncharacteristically tender, moved in steady circles on Harry's back, offering silent reassurance amidst the overwhelming emotions.
As Harry became more aware of the comforting motion, his sobs softend. He pulled his hands away from his aching bum, tucking them tightly under his chest. The words of encouragement swelled within him, stoking the outpour of continued tears.
"I'm s-soorry." He cried, keeping his wet eyes shut. "S-sosorryy."
"Shh, hush. I am not angry with you," said Snape, shocking himself with the affection in his tone. "I forgive you."
He had never felt so compelled to console the boy after disciplining him. And instead of fighting it, shoving it down for the sake of severity, Snape gave in to the instinct.
"You're alright now," he murmured, his voice calm and steady as he continued to rub his back. With his free hand, he wiped away the tears streaming down Harry's face. "Take a few deep breaths. You'll make yourself ill if you keep crying like this. Deep breaths, in and out. That's it, you're alright. I understand it hurts. Shh, Harry, I understand. Shh, shh."
Harry felt overwhelmed, not just by the radiating pain, but also by Snape's gentle comfort— a stark contrast to the stern disciplinarian from moments ago.
After a few more minutes of unsuccessful back rubbing to calm Harry down, Snape felt himself growing uneasy. He glanced over at Harry's reddened skin and ran a quick hand down it, rubbing briefly, as he did at times for Draco. It was hot to the touch, and he knew from personal experience how badly it ached, how chastised Harry was sure to feel. His concern was lessened when he saw no sign of bruising. He told himself that Harry would be just fine; his bum would be sore, but he'd be quite alright, as he always was after a smacking. Snape took in a small breath as Harry buried his face into the pillow, letting out another lengthy, muffled cry. He recalled what Minerva had said about the boy using these moments to unburden a lifetime of repressed emotions. However, as the minutes grew long, listening to Harry's cries became more challenging for him.
"I'm going to retrieve a calming draught for you," Snape said, pushing himself up and moving swiftly to the door. "Continue with the deep breaths, please."
Harry huffed out a shaky sigh, listening to the soft crackling of the fireplace as Snape descended down the creaking steps. The unexpected waver in Snape's tone felt entirely new and Harry could sense his worry, a rare display of concern that he found oddly reassuring. Good— Snape could feel just a little bad, after all, he had nearly whipped his skin off. Harry pulled his hands back to gently rub at his well-smacked bum, seeking to soothe the lingering burn. It took him a long moment, but he did eventually gain some control over his emotions, the sobs no longer racking his chest.
Snape swept back into his room minutes later, draught in hand. He collected Harry's glasses from the desk and strode back to his bed.
"Drink this—all of it," he said, extending the vial down in one hand, glasses in the other. Harry took both, propped up on his shaky arm and gulped down the potion. The pillow beneath his face was wet with tears and snot, a testament to the intensity of the punishment.
Within minutes the bitter taste lingering on his tongue from the earthly flavored liquid faded, replaced by a honey-like drizzle of warmth spreading lazily through his chest, stretching across the shakiness of his shoulders.
"Better?" Snape watched as Harry drew in a deep breath, visibly relaxing.
"Yeah," Harry nodded, wiping away the remaining wetness from his face. He handed back the empty vial and adjusted his glasses back in place. "Thanks, Snape. I, I'm okay."
Relief swept through Snape as he observed the flow of tears finally subsiding.
Noting that Harry had rested his head back down on the pillow and made no move to adjust his clothing, Snape wondered if he may desire some privacy.
"Would you like some time to yourself?" His dark eyes scanned over Harry's tear-stained face with an expression of lingering concern.
"No," Harry answered, his voice soft but sincere. "I'd rather you stay."
In truth, he longed for Snape to continue rubbing his back, offering the comfort he needed. He didn't care if it seemed childish; in that moment, reassurance was all he wanted.
Snape felt a trickle of relief knowing that Harry wasn't angry, that he didn't want him to leave. He offered him a slight nod in response, then set the empty potions vial on his end table with a click.
"Very well," said Snape, leaning down to snatch Harry's pants from the floor. "Here then."
He extended them out, but Harry merely cracked a red-rimmed eye and offered a faint smirk.
"You're mad if you think I'm letting anything touch my sore arse right now," he retorted, his voice hoarse from crying but holding its characteristic cheekiness again.
"Harry," Snape intoned with a hint of exasperation. "You're not going to lie there exposed like some sort of muggle nudist. Put your pants on."
Harry snorted, his smirk growing.
"Feeling a bit guilty? Not up for admiring your own handiwork?"
Snape raised an eyebrow, his tone dry. "Continue with your insolence, and I'll add to it.
"Alright." Harry sighed, reaching to his side and tossing half the comforter he was laying on over his crimson striped skin. "Problem solved, yeah?"
"That weighs no less than these, you perplexing boy." Snape dropped the pants on the end table and 'tsked'.
He collected the wooden chair and placed it by the bed again, taking a seat.
"Um, will you," Harry paused, swiping his slightly runny nose with the back of his hand. "Will you rub my back again?"
Snape nodded, his expression still soft despite the criticism over Harry's modesty.
They stayed like that for a while, soaking in the warmth of forgiveness as he rubbed soothing strokes up and down Harry's spine.
He hadn't thought that doling out a mere five smacks with the strap would be such a challenge for him. While he had managed to remain emotionally guarded for much of the hand smacking, witnessing Harry's strong reaction to the strokes of the strap overwhelmed him with a raw sense of empathy.
Snape's thoughts flitted back to his own teenage years, vividly remembering the cane lashes he'd received from his father—scars he still bore. He didn't believe his father loved him for much of his life, but he was even more convinced of it now. The thought of striking Harry with a cane like that was unthinkable.
Five smacks with the strap was a challenge to give, and the boy bore no bruising as a result. In contrast, he had often turned black and blue, physically cut by the severity of the whippings at the hands of his father. Someone who should have loved him, should have given him guidance and support.
Snape put more effort into the steady back rubs, directing his attention away from those terrible memories. He quietly hoped that despite his strict nature, the rigid expectations he held for behavior, Harry knew that he was trying—attempting to give him the support he never received.
Harry relaxed into Snape's touch, feeling a sense of relief wash over him after weeks of carrying the burden of guilt. His mind wandered back to some of the words Snape had said earlier—the scolding over his Hogwarts escapes, the difference between intent and impact, and Snape's uncharacteristic understanding of his obligations to others' needs.
Reflecting on those words, he felt understood and comforted. Motivated to do better, to think critically before acting. The relief he experienced overrode the lingering pain, dispelling the discomfort a little.
After a good ten minutes or so, Harry sighed, feeling much better.
"Thanks for listening to me earlier."
"Listening to you?" Snape reiterated, still rubbing.
"Yeah." Harry glanced over, meeting Snape's dark gaze. "For hearing me out… um, and understanding how I feel obligated with things."
Snape hummed low and nodded.
"You're welcome."
Harry smiled briefly then glanced out the window. A stream of soft sunlight illuminated the room, casting a warm glow upon the dwindled candles on the ledge. The initial fire in his skin had eased, leaving a deep ache in its place. Despite it, though, he felt soothed.
Snape patted his back a few times then pulled away and interlaced his fingers on his lap.
"I need to go deliver the correct sleeping draughts to Weasley and check in on him. Would you like to accompany me?"
Harry's gaze drifted from the window to Snape's expression, considering his offer. He wanted to check on Ron and had promised to return to Mrs. Weasley once he'd collected his things. However, the thought of facing Ginny and the rest of the family with a throbbing arse felt… uncomfortable. What if they noticed his red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks? Ron might not, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley likely would.
As if reading his mind Snape added, "If you'd like a potion to take care of the residual effects of crying, I will give it to you."
"You have that?"
"Indeed."
After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded.
"Yeah, I'll come then," he forced himself to sit up, wincing at the pain it caused. "Thanks."
Snape collected the wooden chair and strap, taking them back to their proper places.
"Will you grab my track pants?" Harry asked when Snape slid open his top drawer to stow the strap.
"No, considering your clothing resides in your packed bags by the table."
"Oh, right," Harry stood and pulled on his boxer pants, grimacing as the light fabric settled on his tender skin. "Forgot I did that."
"Speaking of which," said Snape, crossing back over. "Though I hardly anticipate another infraction where tensions run this high between us, do not assume I'm going to evict you simply because you've broken rules, you impulsive child."
"I won't, sir." Harry said as he pushed his glasses up to rub a bit of the lingering redness from his eyes.
"Come here." Snape opened his arms slightly.
Harry flashed a small smile and stepped into the hug. Today, it felt like Snape held onto him a little tighter than normal, which he relished.
"Y'know," said Harry, pulling out of the embrace after a long moment. "I thought you were going to have a heart attack when Mrs. Weasley suffocated you in one of these earlier."
Snape scoffed and motioned for Harry to accompany him to the door.
"It was a bit funny to see you squirm away, like you only had minutes left to live or something."
"Oh, indeed," Snape drawled, his tone thick with sarcasm. "Surviving the Dark Lord's serpent was nothing compared to the tender embrace of a relieved mother. How fortunate you were to witness my second brush with death."
Snape's tone was clipped, back to its natural edge, and Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. His relaxed expression faded quickly, however, as the memory of that horrid night in the Shrieking Shack resurfaced. But before he could say something more serious, Snape cut back in, as sardonic as ever.
"In fact, I'd say it's rather remarkable my health held up enough to administer the smacking you so richly deserved. It's the small gifts of life we must come to appreciate."
Now it was Harry's turn to scoff.
"Yeah, some bloody gift that was." He grumbled, making sure to rub his bum as he passed by.
Snape gave him a light push between the shoulder blades, ushering him down the stairs. With a soft click, the bedroom door swung shut behind them.
As they descended the worn staircase, a sense of normalcy settled over the quiet house like a comforting blanket. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, the tension of the morning gone. The close of the war brought with it a new beginning with Snape, and despite the inevitable challenges that lay ahead, he was glad to walk this road of redemption together. Thankful to have a chance at something that meant a great deal more to him than he could ever put into words.
Author's notes: Happy Sunday! Or Monday to some of you :) Out of all the spanking scenes I've written, this chapter was particularly emotional for me to write. Despite the heaviness, I hope you found some comfort in its conclusion. While I know many of you enjoy the 'smacks', for those who appreciate the mentorship and relationship aspects of this story more, there are plenty of feel-good moments ahead. Thank you, as always, for your support and love in the comments!
Hamlet, your thoughts and commentary on the last two chapters brought the biggest smile to my face! Thank you so much. I particularly enjoyed reading about your psychologist's take on empathy in the face of trauma/life-threatening scenarios. I'm touched you think I describe Snape's reluctance to facing buried emotions well! Thank you for your wonderful comment, as always. Your compliment on my craftsmanship as a writer on chapter 30 really warmed my heart. The comment from your high school English teacher had me laughing-that sounded exactly like something Snape would say! Also, you're onto something with Ron ;) looking forward to revealing a few twists down the line. You're the best!
Ishmeet, your enthusiasm for this story is off the charts-thank you! I'm touched to know you like my portrayal of Snape. That is such a compliment. Unfortunately, I don't see myself having the time to post more updates even during my holidays. Since I don't have this story pre-written, it's tough to generate more than a chapter a week. If there comes a time where I can, I will! So happy to know you're loving this story so much.
Librarymom4, thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed the two-chapter update the other week :) It's so validating to know you're enjoying the story.
MH76fanfic, love to hear you enjoyed chapter 31! I'm especially happy to know you liked the 'save your smirk for my sneer' line. That was fun to craft, lol.
And MusicMelis, ah, I always think of you when writing the tougher punishment scenes since I know you're more so here for the father/son vibes. I know this chapter was heavy, but the happier moments/times of connection with Harry and Snape will be explored here soon. Thank you for your commitment to this story! I'm delighted to know you enjoy my writing style and have remained interested in the plot despite the punishment chapters. Your empathy for Harry is lovely to read & it's great to see how much you feel for him as a character.
I need to take next week off due to personal commitments, but I'll be back with a new chapter the following Sunday. Take care everyone! Much love to you all.