[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.
Chapter 33: Ponderings at the Burrow
The savory aroma of bacon and sweet cinnamon buns greeted Harry and Snape at the entrance of the Burrow that afternoon. Despite Harry's initial concern about facing the Weasley family after his recent punishment, he found himself comforted by their familiar warmth. Even with Fred now gone, the life of the crooked home had not been snuffed out.
Not everyone was around. Arthur was still at work, Bill was off in town getting some provisions for his trip back home with Fleur, a recently redeemed Percy with him. Charlie was lounging with a cup of coffee at the table after postponing his trip home to Romania and George was keeping him company. Neither Mrs. Weasley nor Ginny seemed to notice anything amiss with Harry; the potion he had downed earlier having erased the previous stains of his tears. Neither commented on his change from jeans to track pants either.
Upstairs, the truth regarding the fairy wing draughts had fully come out as Snape assessed Ron's vitals. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley had contacted Snape over a month ago regarding sleeping potions, and he had suggested the newly developed draughts as an option. She didn't want Ron asking for potions. Not out of distrust for Snape, but because she planned to test them herself first to ascertain any addictive properties. Ron, clearly unimpressed, started to voice his displeasure but halted after one piercing look from Snape, effectively squashing the argument before it could escape his dry lips.
After a lengthy conversation upstairs, Harry made his way down and conversed with Ginny as the afternoon stretched on. They kept their chat light– avoiding the war. The sun had finally chased away the oppressive storm clouds, and it seemed a shame to bring dreariness into their conversation. As they talked, Harry realized how things had seemingly changed between them. Though they both promised to write more and spend more time together, he couldn't help but wonder if the small kiss they shared would be their last. The spark that once burned vibrantly had dimmed, leaving a flickering ember in its place.
An hour or so later, Mrs. Weasley cornered Harry with an inevitable plate of food, ushering him over to the table to have a seat with Charlie and George. Just as he had prepared to bite back a pained wince that sitting on the hard chair was sure to prompt, Snape strode over. He snatched Harry up by the arm before he could sit down and began to 'scold' him for 'ignoring' his 'instruction' to stay upstairs with Ron and keep an eye on the magically cast heart monitor. Harry's confusion was quickly replaced by amusement when he realized what Snape was up to. Suppressing a laugh, he accepted the plate of food and allowed Snape to shove him back to the staircase, fake 'scolding' all the way. It comforted him to know that, despite being the reason for his discomfort, Snape still wanted to give him a bit of a break in front of the Weasleys.
After departing from the Burrow, Harry found solace in the ease of the evening. His extra punishments wouldn't start until the following day, offering a welcome reprieve. His soreness from the dreadful strapping had mostly subsided, and Snape seemed uncharacteristically attentive. He had prepared a dinner featuring a dish Harry particularly enjoyed, and even added three sugar cubes to Harry's tea—despite always criticizing him for such a preference. After eating, they went out to the potions storage, where Snape then tasked him with helping inventory the store. Though to some, it may have felt like an additional punishment, to Harry, it served as a subtle reassurance that their relationship had not been damaged. Oddly enough, he felt a stronger connection to Snape than he had at the start of the summer.
As Harry pulled out vials, bags, and glass jars with ghoulish looking specimens, Snape meticulously detailed everything. He then required Harry to recount every ingredient and every premade potion he had on hand. Harry found himself a bit disturbed when they were through— wondering why Snape needed an elixir that mimicked the effects of death, or a potion that caused the drinker to descend into a delusion of madness. Sensing his unease, Snape revealed that many of the draughts had been prepared during his time as a Death Eater, a topic he seemed reluctant to elaborate on when Harry pressed for more information. Instead, he redirected the conversation to the necessity of destroying many of the potions, emphasizing the arduous process involved. Of course, Harry had offered to help, but Snape shut down the idea before he could even finish asking.
After a final warning on the dire consequences Harry would face if he ever, ever went in without authorization again, the pair retired for the evening.
It was around two o'clock the following day when a series of light knocks echoed on the front door, pulling Harry's focus away from the mundane kitchen chores Snape had assigned to him. Setting aside a wet rag, he crossed the room to answer the door. There, he was met with a warm breeze and the sight of a familiar face as he swung it open.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, nearly knocking him over in a tight hug.
Her soft hair was pinned back, and she wore a flowing pink blouse that flurried a bit in the wind.
"Wh- hey!" Harry laughed, stunned. He struggled to keep his balance for a moment but returned the hug with an even stronger embrace.
"What are you doing here?" He pulled back, smiling wide. "I thought you weren't back until tomorrow?"
"Oh, I wanted to surprise Ron," Hermione smiled sweetly, "and come collect you, of course."
"Collect me?"
"Yes," Hermione snatched her broom from its resting place against the front doorway. "I've found a lovely little tea spot that's just opened in Ottery St. Catchpole. I thought we could all go for a cup."
"Brilliant," Harry beamed, he turned and glanced around the house. "Let me go ask—um, tell Snape. Come on in."
"I don't want to intrude, you know," said Hermione, though she was already stepping through the doorway. "Ron mentioned that Snape prefers owl posts over unexpected visits."
She placed her broom next to the coat rack, and Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"That's just because Ron turned up before sunrise once. Y'know Snape, he's not exactly thrilled by surprises."
Hermione chuckled, giving Harry's shoulder a small squeeze. It was so good to see him again, well rested, with a bright expression and shoulders held high. He was clad in a green t-shirt that drew out the depth of his eyes and a pair of casual jeans. The end of the war had brought with it so much devastation, but watching Harry guide her through the cozy house with a wide smile on his face warmed her heart.
"Of course I would've sent an owl," Hermione said, trailing after Harry and peering around the home. "But I didn't quite have the time."
"You're alright; Snape won't mind." Harry waved his hand and motioned for her to follow. At least I hope not, he thought.
Hermione loved Snape's home right away, noticing how it held a certain comfort. As she made her way forward, she glanced around. Afternoon sunlight filtered in through three rectangular windows to the right of her, illuminating the Russian green furnishings of the living room. The oak coffee table and accent furniture complimented the space wonderfully. There were a few books sprawled out in various places, bringing a vibrant smile to her face.
Ron was right. It was truly shocking to think Professor Snape, the bat of the cold and dreary dungeons, lived in such a welcoming home.
Hermione lingered a bit when Harry propped open the metal door leading out to the backyard.
"It smells so good in here," she smiled, moving her way about the kitchen. "Is that lavender?"
"Yeah." Harry nodded, leaning his weight on the door handle and crossing one foot over the other. "The flower, not won-won's ex-lover."
"Oh, brilliantly funny, Harry." Hermione gave him an unenthusiastic expression, but it didn't last long as she soon caved into his light laughter.
"Snape uses it for tea," he soon said, glancing outside.
Hermione flashed a semi-surprised look, peering into the pantry and up to the thick bundles of violet flowers.
"That's a bit unexpected of him, isn't it?"
Harry nodded, remembering how taken back he was when he first got the tour of Snape's home on the hill that smelled like a flower field.
"We have it every evening, actually; it's quite good."
"You drink tea with him?"
"Yeah, it's nice— relaxing. Speaking of tea," Harry gave a little nod out to the yard. "Let me just go talk to him about going, yeah?"
"Oh yes, sorry," Hermione hurried over to the door. "I'll come along."
As Harry pushed open the creaking door to the greenhouse, a bit of nervousness pooled up in his chest. There was Snape, wand in hand, muttering a string of frustrations about Vampyr Mosps destroying his Sanguis Roses. He was ranting to himself, a deep scowl etched across his face, as he shot numerous repellent charms around the south side of the greenhouse. Seeing the start of a pesky mood made Harry hesitate in the doorway, not so keen on strolling in with an uninvited Hermione Granger.
He cleared his throat, halfway in the door, halfway out.
"Uh, Snape?"
Without so much as a glance up, Snape flicked his wand, casting another silent spell.
"What?" He drawled, cutting his wand through the air, this time to the east side of the greenhouse. "Something the matter?"
"No, sir."
Harry watched him tsk and stoop down to collect some remnants from a preyed upon rose, its woody stem shredded to bits.
"Come in here." Snape glanced over, an edge to his voice. "Quickly, before another red terror slips past you and commences with the assassination of the rest of these," he motioned to the destruction of some of the dripping blood roses in the garden bed.
Hermione followed Harry's lead as they stepped in, the wooden door swinging shut with a soft thud behind them. Snape, engrossed in his task of dealing with the ransacked roses, didn't notice her presence at first. "Horrid, overgrown nuisances," he admonished, grumbling to himself as he whipped his wand down to begin cleaning up the bloody mess. Before Harry could say another word, Hermione made her presence known.
"Hello, Professor Snape," she said, clasping her arms comfortably down in front of her waist.
Snape lowered his wand, his dark eyes gliding from Hermione to Harry.
"Miss Granger," he said slowly, his tone dry. "How very unexpected to see you here today, without notice."
Harry moved to speak, but Hermione continued.
"Well, I hadn't really planned on coming in. I just came to collect Harry, you see," her eyes trailed down Snape's figure.
Seeing him in muggle clothes for the first time, a deep purple button-up—slightly open at the chest, with his sleeves rolled back—took her by as much surprise as it had Ron and Harry. In the absence of his billowing black robes, Snape looked different. Somehow softened in the breezy attire despite his typical clipped tone.
"And what might you be 'collecting' him for?" Snape inquired, summoning a watering can with a flick of his wand.
With another flick, he cast a stream of cold water into the tin pail below. He needed a break from the roses if he wanted to remain restrained in front of the Granger girl. It marked a new challenge for him, mastering the art of diverting his focus from frustrations when engaging with others.
"We're planning to have tea at a quaint shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. Ron will be joining us too," Hermione explained, the rhythmic sound of water against the tin pail filling the brief silence. "Although," she added, "I suspect his true interest lies more in the sweets they offer rather than the tea itself."
Snape shook his head, not bothering to resist the scoff her statement conjured.
"Yes, his dedication to sugar consumption rivals that of the Trochilidae family." He rolled his eyes, "However, as I instructed him yesterday, he ought to avoid strenuous activities. Eating an obscene amount of pastries counts as such."
Harry furrowed his brow, wondering who the hell the 'Trochilidae family' was, while Hermione's confusion stemmed from the latter half of Snape's statement.
"I didn't know you saw Ron yesterday."
She shot a hesitant glance from Snape to Harry.
"And why must he avoid strenuous activities?"
A brief hush settled in the warm greenhouse. The tense atmosphere interrupted only by the faint clink of Snape's watering can as it lightly grazed against the rim of a pot. Harry glanced away, his gaze drifting to the shaking mandrakes. He assumed Ron would've owled Hermione and told her about the incident himself, but no, leave it to him to avoid mentioning something so serious— just brilliant. How dreadful to have it brought up in this moment, right in front of Snape. Bloody hell, Harry sighed, he should have asked Hermione to wait inside.
"Perhaps you would care to enlighten her as to why he is now in recovery," said Snape in a low voice, catching Harry's eye.
"Er…" Harry paused, flushing a little. "Ron drank a potion yesterday. He got a bit sick."
Snape raised a sharp brow in his direction, making him swallow.
"Um, well, more than just sick…He nearly didn't wake up because we, uh, stole some potions from Snape. But don't worry, he's alright now."
Hermione's expression morphed into one of pure shock. Her eyes flashed with instant concern.
"Well, that's awfully casual to say! He nearly didn't wake up? As in, he nearly died?"
"I can assure you, Miss Granger," Snape interjected, pouring a steady stream of water onto the aconite below. "Your dimwitted partner is on the road to recovery and will live to eat another town's worth of sweets. You needn't start with the theatrics."
"I'll fill you in later," Harry told her quickly, desperate not to rehash everything with Snape there.
"Well, isn't this wonderful," she let out a little breath, a look of deep concern painting her delicate features.
"Snape, do you need any more of my help before I go?" Harry glanced up, hoping he'd leave the conversation be.
"You've completed the tasks I assigned?"
"Yes, I have."
"Very well then," Snape nodded, still watering. "You and I will be having that discussion of ours before you retire for the night. Ensure you're back well before ten. Seven thirty being ideal, no later than eight."
Harry didn't mean to flush so brilliantly red at that, but he did. He gave Snape a short nod and muttered 'come on' to Hermione.
He hardly made it three paces out before Snape's low voice halted him, laced with a warning tone.
"Harry, come here."
He turned then, sharply on his heel.
"Uh, sorry," Harry said straight away, the hue of red on his face now trailing down to his neck.
Hermione looked over him as he brushed past her, stunned by the crimson color overwhelming his expression.
Snape leveled Harry with a contemplative look that made his stomach drop. He wasn't sure why he suddenly felt so awkward interacting with Snape in front of Hermione, but he did. Perhaps, in part, it stemmed from the last time they saw each other. Hermione had watched him defeat the Dark Lord, they'd all fought so valiantly together in a gruesome war, and now here he was, asking Snape if he could go out, being subtly reminded of his evening punishment, and bracing himself for a potential reprimand for not responding. It was more than a little embarrassing for Harry, considering who he was and what he'd been through. Not to mention the fact he was of age now. He walked over to where Snape stood, glancing down at the wet leaves of the freshly watered plants. It felt like one of those moments where he'd be bent over for a few wand smacks, but thankfully Snape wouldn't do that in front of Hermione. He might change his mind about him leaving, though, which would be almost as embarrassing.
"You know perfectly well you're required to respond when I speak to you." Snape said in a tone so quiet Hermione couldn't hear. "It is quite astonishing to witness such audacity, particularly in light of yesterday's events, young man."
Harry felt his stomach tightening.
"I know, sir. I'm sorry, I… I just got a bit uncomfortable when you mentioned, y'know… our talk tonight." Harry whispered back, his nerves evident. "I'll be home by seven thirty. Or seven, even."
Snape studied him for a moment, prompting Harry to fidget a little.
"I could aim for six thirty."
Silence persisted. Harry strummed his fingers along the wooden bench below the plants.
"I suppose I could be back by five thirty. Or five even."
A trickle of relief soon came over him when he caught the slightest softening in Snape's expression.
"Or, if you're going to miss me that much," Harry tried, his tone lightening as Snape raised a slight brow. "I suppose I could just Apparate there, take a breath, and Apparate back."
He relaxed when Snape finally responded with a familiar eye roll and scoff.
"How accommodating of you," said Snape slowly, "Though I believe I shall survive in your absence for the afternoon. Seven thirty is fine; you may go."
Snape gave Harry's back a light smack with his wand, ushering him off.
"Brilliant." Harry sighed, "Thanks, Snape."
As Harry made his way back towards Hermione, he decided to tease just a touch more.
"Enjoy scolding the hidden Mosps. I'm sure they're feeling quite contrite," said Harry over his shoulder, smirking. "You probably didn't even need the repellent charms."
Harry's smile widened when Snape glared back, unenthused.
"I'm about to cast one on you," he said cooly, leaning over to water a new glimmering plant. "Get out."
Harry chuckled a little, his embarrassment gone as he reached Hermione.
"Send an owl next time, Miss Granger," Snape added, assessing the soil of a magically sprouted plant. "My home is not a muggle shop, open for business at all hours of the day."
Hermione had been too distracted by Harry's previously flushed face and compliant behavior to catch the shift in Snape's typical tone—less needle-like than at school despite the sternness.
"Yes, of course." Hermione glanced back at him, flashing a distracted smile. "Have a good day, Professor Snape."
To her pleasant surprise, Snape returned the smile, just barely, before dismissing them with a wave of his wand.
"You're sure you're alright?" Hermione asked, sliding her jean-clad leg over her broomstick.
"Yeah, fine." Harry replied, doing the same.
"I'm rather surprised he calls you 'Harry' now, and completely stunned he lets you address him as just 'Snape'," Hermione took in a small breath. "What sort of conversation do you have to be back for? And what on earth—you and Ron pilfered potions from him? He nearly died? How dreadful! Had I known leaving you two alone for a month would end like this I, well, I never would've left."
Harry sighed and kicked off the ground on his broom, Hermione following suit. The gentle wind kissed their faces, and the dazzling sun tipped the green treetops below their feet as they rushed through the air. Harry soon explained everything to Hermione, recounting as much detail as he could. Nearly everything, anyway. Between her and Ron, he knew she'd be the one to take the news of his smackings better, but today hardly felt like the right timing to bring it up.
"Honestly!" Hermione finally interjected, overwhelmed by the senseless string of events. "Honestly, Harry, I can hardly believe this."
"Yeah, it wasn't our brightest idea." Harry sighed, then took a bit of a nosedive down, relishing the jolt the drop gave him.
He didn't like revisiting this. Hermione's tone brought back memories of the scolding he'd received from Snape just before the dreadful smacking yesterday.
"Not your 'brightest idea'?" Hermione shot back, leaning down to sweep up next to him. "I should say so! What were you thinking? What was Ron? Why didn't you buy potions or brew them? What about talking to—"
"I dunno!" Harry snapped. "I'm rubbish at potions. I didn't think to buy any. Bloody hell, I didn't know we could buy any—I reckon I'd rather have things go sideways than bother thinking them through."
Hermione remained silent for a moment, sailing through the air on a delicate breeze. She was taken aback by their thoughtless actions, the wind whispering past her ears as she contemplated the situation.
While she believed both boys deserved to take a bit of her heat, she soon reasoned that maybe she was overreacting; after all, it had been over a month since she last saw them. Starting a fight didn't seem like the right way to begin a stress-free summer, one they hadn't experienced since the Dark Lord's return.
"Look, I'm sorry," said Harry, breaking the silence and slowing his speed down. "It's just… been a rough week, y'know? I shouldn't have stolen from Snape. I really regret what happened to Ron. I feel terrible about it, honestly."
Sweeping a stray piece of her brown hair back, Hermione gave Harry a small smile.
"Oh, well, no, I'm sorry," she said, matching his slower speed. "I hardly meant to sound like such a mum. I was taken by surprise, is all. Honestly, Ron asked you to get them for him. He ought to feel far worse than you, Harry. He's responsible for such a rubbish idea after all. It doesn't make you an awful person for trying to help him."
They both dipped down then, gliding past a row of rustling trees, stray leaves swirling around in the gust of summer air. The brief pang of guilt in Harry's chest dissipated at Hermione's words. One of the many things he loved about her was her unwavering belief in his best self. She saw the best in him, always. She didn't guilt trip or shame, and he appreciated it.
"Thanks. I suppose you've got a point," Harry replied, casting a glance over his shoulder as he zoomed up into a huge loop. Flying so freely, dropping down, and shooting up in the midday sky was exhilarating. He loved it.
Hermione shot past him, executing her own loop that ended in a sharp spin. They laughed and then engaged in a playful game of outdoing each other with tricks, lightly jabbing and teasing along the way.
Finally, when they were about five minutes away from the Burrow, they flew up next to each other and continued steadily through the air side by side.
"So," Hermione said, letting out a little huff from all the adrenaline. "What happened when Snape returned home from Hogwarts? You said you were planning to leave, but he got back before you could, yes?"
Harry was grateful for the rush of wind and the twists of his broom, as they provided a convenient explanation for the slight flush he felt at her question.
"Well, I got," Harry swallowed, watching the green grass blur beneath him. "I got a severe lecture."
"I don't doubt that," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing as she studied Harry intently for a moment. "And what sort of punishment did he give you? Ron mentioned that Snape has his own set of rules and consequences for breaking them, doesn't he?"
"Yes, I, uh, I had to do some chores."
"Chores? I'm rather astonished that he didn't attempt to give you an 'in-home detention' or something." She flashed him a small smile, but Harry didn't catch it. He looked lost in thought, distracted. Hermione's gaze lingered on him for a moment, a little concern growing in her chest. "So, um, just chores for breaking in and stealing from him then?"
"Well, they weren't easy," Harry said, his tone wavering. "I had to inventory his store and… er, clean… the roof."
"Clean the roof?" Hermione glanced away, her eyes flickering with confusion. "Why did he need the roof—"
"He finds creative ways to punish me. It wasn't all that bad." Harry said, short and fast. "Look, we're coming up on the Burrow there."
Hermione followed his gaze, momentarily setting aside her questions. Harry was a terrible liar, always had been. She was sure that something more had transpired with Snape—something he wasn't telling her. Ron had mentioned that Harry had written some awfully long essays for Snape after being escorted home that night from the pub. Why would he have to write essays for that incident but not this? Also, Snape's mention of Harry needing to be home early for an evening discussion had ignited her curiosity and fueled some unease when she saw the deep flush overwhelm Harry's face. While he seemed to relax after speaking quietly with Snape, their interaction left her wondering what life looked like for him now.
She hoped he was being treated fairly. It had taken him over a week to confide in Ron, and later in her, about those detentions with Umbridge, where his skin had been torn by the blood quill. What if he was concealing something serious again? While she trusted Snape far more than Ron did, especially after the revelation that he had secretly looked after Harry all those years, Harry's behavior in the greenhouse troubled her a bit. He was quickly compliant, even turning around to apologize to Snape for not properly responding. That wasn't the strong-willed, 'I stand my ground', 'don't tell me what to do', Harry Potter that she knew. It seemed as though he was quick to keep the peace, his unease palpable. She didn't know what to make of his recent behavior. And though she'd tried to play devil's advocate many times in her letter exchanges with Ron, she truthfully wasn't sure why Harry was okay living with rules and consequences. After all, he wasn't much of a rule follower to begin with, and the war was over now. Wouldn't he want to be free?
However, as they drew closer to the Burrow, Hermione reasoned that Snape did seem calmer than he was at school, especially considering his fury with the Mosps just before they walked in. Harry had teased him too, bringing out that side of himself she'd never seen him display quite so lightheartedly with Snape. Then Snape had even smiled at her when she left, which was a first. His house was warm and inviting, and he apparently made lavender tea and drank it with Harry in the evenings. She had a lot of things to consider.
Ron, of course, had regaled his frustrations with Harry's choice to live with Snape an exhausting amount of times during their letter exchanges, but he always added that it was what he still wanted. He liked it quite a bit, which must mean things were going well. Right? Well, regardless, she knew she would find out soon enough. After dealing with her daft boyfriend first, of course.
As the longtime friends reunited back at the Burrow—nearly sending Ron to a second death from the shock of seeing Harry and Hermione suddenly hovering outside of his window when he came out of the shower, naked as a jaybird—back in Silent Hollow, Snape's attention remained fixed on finishing up his tasks for the day.
After ensuring his greenhouse was properly tidied and safe from magical intruders, he left for his potions storage.
The ground had finally begun to dry under the radiant sunlight, sucking away the puddles of syrup-like mud from weeks worth of rainstorms. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he recalled Harry's sharp comment about the potions storage only being a few paces away on the property, contrasting his own description of its distance as a 'journey'. Despite reprimanding the cheeky teen for his disrespectful remark, Snape couldn't help but smile wryly at the thought of Harry's comeback. It was rare for someone to challenge his verbosity in conversation. So far, Harry was the only one brave enough to call him on it.
He shook his head at the memory and inspected the door of his potions storage. Satisfied with the security measures in place, including the lock and magical enchantment on the window, Snape proceeded to make his way up to the house.
With a flick of his wand, he cast a cleaning spell over his shoes and hands. The metal door clacked shut behind him as he strode into the kitchen.
He tsked at the sight of the sopping wet rag still balled up on the tabletop.
Harry Potter. Snape didn't know what he was going to do with the boy. Though Harry had certainly matured from his school days, he still possessed a certain talent for tap dancing on Snape's nerves with his snap decisions and forgetful habits. Part of his reasoning for insisting Harry do chores by hand rather than relying on magic stemmed from his desire to slow Harry down some. After years of fast-paced action, chaotic planning, and life-threatening events, it was time for Harry to decelerate. In the process, he would at times get preoccupied. Moving to one task without fully completing the first, hence the wet dish rag.
A trickle of water droplets sounded against the copper sink as Snape rang out the wet rag. He twisted tightly, draining every last drop before draping the damp cloth over the lip of the sink.
With a flick of his wand, he then summoned a bottle of red wine from the open pantry. He glanced down at the label, contemplating his approach to Harry's impending punishment. While his typical approach to evening spankings involved a blend of lecturing, administering stinging swats, and posing challenging questions, Snape decided to adjust his method slightly with Harry. Yesterday had been particularly challenging for the boy, and because of that, Snape had no desire to make the spanking the focal point of their discussion. He decided it would serve as the punctuation to their conversation, not its backdrop.
Snape uncorked the bottle of wine with a sharp twist, a faint pop sounding in the quiet kitchen. He poured himself a glass, then pulled down a saucepan from the potrack and set it on the stove. A steady tick, tick, tick, and swoosh sounded as the gas fire lit. Glass in one hand, bottle in the other, Snape poured the red wine in with careful precision. A crimson flood covered the circumference of the warming pan, a faint scent of blackberry and oak swirling into the air. He adjusted the heat and took a sip of wine.
Much like preparing potions, Snape found comfort in the control of cooking. Growing up, his family didn't have a house elf, and his father forbade his mother to use magic in their home. So, unlike some witches, she taught her son to cook like a muggle. They used herbs and spices—all sorts of harvested ingredients that filled the dingy kitchen with soothing scents, often drowning out the smell of his father's cheap cigars. At times, Snape wondered if cooking with her had incidentally spurred his interest in potions. It never ceased to amaze him that his mother could transform inexpensive ingredients into hearty stews and savory dishes. The moments they spent together in the kitchen were among the few memories from his childhood that weren't overwhelmingly bleak or horribly painful to remember.
The fading light of the evening sun bled through the window over the sink, illuminating the laid-out ingredients. With his wand tucked in his back pocket, Snape manually began to slice into the vegetables he needed. The chop of the knife on the oak cutting board filled the hushed space with a comforting rhythm of thumps. He hadn't thought he would do so much cooking this summer, but the end of the war brought with it a need to preoccupy his mind, and preparing meals for himself and Harry was a soothing way to do it.
After braising a section of beef in the wine reduction and adding in the carefully sliced carrots and onions, Snape lowered the heat and covered the pan. He collected his remaining glass of wine and headed up to his study. The soft clacks of his shoes echoing every step of the way.
With a warm mug of hot chocolate in one hand and her other running through Ron's mop of red hair, Hermione glanced over at Harry.
He was engaged in a friendly game of magical checkers with Bill, while the other Weasleys bustled about the Burrow preparing dinner.
It had been a lovely afternoon. Despite scolding Ron within an inch of his life for the potions debacle, Hermione had relaxed after hearing more of his reasoning. While stealing from Snape was nonsensical, to say the least, she understood how desperate Ron felt for a night of rest. So, she didn't linger on her admonishment for long, aside from suggesting every alternative route they could have taken to avoid such a disaster.
The trio then enjoyed the remainder of the day together. They planned activities for the summer, discussed the next term at Hogwarts, processed some aftershocks of the war, and the boys listened as Hermione detailed the retreat she took with Fleur. They made the executive decision to postpone tea until next week, with Hermione insisting Ron stay rested.
Now he lay with his head in her lap, snoring softly. He'd fallen asleep so quickly when he laid down, it had bristled Harry. Apparently today, all Ron needed was Hermione's soothing presence to get some overdue shut-eye.
"Buggar," said Bill when Harry won their second round of magical checkers. "Let's go for another one, then."
Harry glanced out the dust-covered window behind Hermione, noting how the last light of the evening had nearly set.
"I better not," he said apologetically, leaning back to stretch. "I need to head back to Snape's here soon."
"Right, well, next time I see you then, mate."
Bill smiled and stood up from his spot by the living room coffee table.
"Sure." Harry smiled back, glancing up when George tapped him on the shoulder.
"So, what's it like, living with the old ray of sunshine?"
He handed Harry a mug of hot chocolate, then deposited himself in the burnt Siena chair across from him.
"Yeah, Harry," Hermione chimed in softly, "you haven't mentioned all that much about living with Snape. What's it like? What do you do over there?"
"Well, um," Harry said, sitting criss-cross on the floor as he took a small sip of the hot chocolate. "It's different from what you might expect."
"Well, I reckon so." George let out a little laugh, seemingly making the entire family smile from their various places about the Burrow.
He had been doing better since their memorial trip for Fred, talking a bit more frequently.
Harry chuckled and glanced down at the steaming hot chocolate in his mug.
"Snape… he's, well, he's pretty decent now. We make potions together, discuss the war, and everything. And, uh, he cooks all the time."
"That sounds nice," Hermione smiled, and Harry returned it. "He's got a lovely home too."
"Yeah, it's a nice place."
"Seems like he's still got that rough edge, doesn't he? Especially when he chewed you out for forgetting to watch that heart monitor. How do you get on with him?" Charlie chimed in from across the room. "Ron says he's every bit the hard arse he was in school."
Hermione looked intently at Harry, watching for any sign of discomfort or unease.
"Ron tends to exaggerate." Harry nudged his sleeping mate, rolling his eyes when he didn't rouse.
"Snape's different now, he's still intense, y'know, but not nearly as harsh," Harry offered tentatively, his desire to defend Snape's reputation battling with a sense of uncertainty. Despite growing much closer to Snape, he found it challenging to articulate his feelings convincingly. He struggled to convey just how much he had come to like Snape, especially considering their tumultuous history together—one that the Weasley's were well aware of.
"He did seem a bit less bitey in the greenhouse," Hermione added, content to see Harry smile at that. "Even with the rules and whatnot, you enjoy living with him?"
Harry's gaze drifted down to the swirling depths of his hot chocolate.
"Well, yeah, I do. It's…it's not exactly a walk in the park when I break his rules, with the chores and stuff," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of hesitation. "He's…he's strict, like he was in school. Ron saw a bit of that our night at the pub." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly, before continuing with a more confident tone. "But Snape's fair about things."
"Is he really?" Hermione asked, her expression thoughtful as she studied Harry.
His comment set off a train of thought in her mind. The problem being chores were always a 'walk in the park' for Harry. He'd said as much after living with his aunt and uncle and having a childhood filled with work. So, what was the difference with Snape's chores? Maybe he made them exceptionally hard? Maybe that's why Harry was up on the roof cleaning…It seemed odd to Hermione, but she supposed she could see Snape finding a way to make the tasks more challenging than regular chores.
Harry nodded, trying to keep himself from flushing. Telling Hermione and Ron about the smackings eventually was one thing, telling the entire Weasley family? That was another.
"Got you doing loads of chores, has he?" inquired Charlie, joining the conversation with his drink.
"Only if I happen to mess up," Harry replied, taking another sip of his hot chocolate, "like this whole bloody mess we got into." He motioned towards Ron.
"Right, I can't imagine catchin his wrath for that one." George raised his brows and shook his head, glancing over at sleeping Ron and then back at Harry. "I felt more than a bit sorry for ya when you left to face him, mate."
"It wasn't so bad," Harry lied, tapping the squirming magical checker on the edge of his mug. "I just wasn't supposed to go into his store without, er, permission, which… wasn't great."
"Plus, pinching stuff from him had to be a big bloody no-go," George added. "What other rules has he got in place?"
"Yeah, that was bad." Harry chuckled uncomfortably, shifting in his spot. "I'm pretty much just following the same rules as the Slytherins."
It was then that Hermione caught a discreet look shot from George to Charlie. It was subtle, going undetected by Harry, but it was clear enough to pique her curiosity.
"I can't lie to him," Harry continued. "Can't be coming back home past the time we agreed on. And he, um, he doesn't care much for cheek." Harry tapped the wiggling checker a bit quicker against his mug, then added, "It was McGonagall's idea for me to live with him. She thinks I need the 'structure' and whatnot. It's been alright, though. We were past the whole stealing thing by the time I came back yesterday."
"Good to hear," Charlie smiled, "I know Ron felt lucky he didn't have to go home with Snape after all that."
"Yeah," Harry laughed. "Ron's never got on with him."
As Harry redirected the conversation away from his living situation with Snape, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that there was something George and Charlie had silently communicated—something they knew about Harry that she didn't. Before she could say anything, though, Mrs. Weasley suddenly appeared, diverting her attention.
"Harry," she called, a dish of steaming vegetables in hand. "You're sure you don't want to stay for dinner?"
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but I really should be heading back," Harry replied, setting down his half-drunk cup of hot chocolate and rising from his spot on the floor. "Snape's expecting me soon, and we've got some, um, things to talk through."
"Oh, well, alright then, dear," Mrs. Weasley responded with a cheery smile despite her disappointment, "come give us a visit soon. It's lovely to have you home."
"I will. Thanks for lunch and everything. It was great spending time with you all." Harry smiled. "I'll see you, Hermione." He leaned down and gave her a quick hug. She returned it warmly.
"Smack him for sleeping so soundly, will you?" Harry motioned down to Ron. "Bloody hell, all that trouble we got up to just for him to nod off before six o'clock. What a prat."
Hermione laughed softly and promised Harry that she would.
He then bid a more personal goodbye to the rest of the family and stepped out the door.
"What was that little look?" Hermione whispered when the door clacked shut, waving a finger between Charlie and George, who had now taken up spots by the swirling checkers set.
"What look?" asked Charlie, immobilizing the checker pieces from the last round with a flick of his wand.
"The way you two exchanged that glance when Harry mentioned following the same rules as the Slytherins—it seemed like you knew something," Hermione said, her tone laced with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.
"Ah, don't worry 'bout it. Just found it interesting, hearing him say that." Charlie motioned for George to start off the game.
And he did, the checker pieces aligning themselves to each side, but unlike Charlie, George gave Hermione a certain look, a knowing one.
"I'm not sure interesting is the right word choice; more like telling, if you ask me."
"What do you mean?" Hermione said quickly, setting her mug down on the table with a clunk.
"George," said Charlie quietly, his tone laced with hesitancy. "I reckon we best not dive into that just now."
"Dive into what?" Hermione leaned in closer, the front of her flowy shirt now covering Ron's head as she mirrored the same hushed tone.
"Snape's private method of handling rule breaking in Slytherin," George said, ignoring the small kick Charlie gave him under the coffee table.
"Private method?" Hermione reiterated, glancing sharply between the pair. "What are you inferring?"
"Nothing," said Charlie, taking a drink of his hot chocolate. "Snape's just a hard arse, that's all."
"Ah, come on, now," George said casually, prompting his checker piece to skip through the air. "It's no big deal. We're not even in school anymore. Plus, this is Hermione, she'll be on to it soon enough."
"Yeah, but they're in school next year." Charlie looked awfully serious. "Ron's repeating seventh."
"Ah, so what if they are?" George scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Your snake mates are out of the picture now. No one's going to come to smother you in your sleep or get you fired, are they?"
"Honestly," Hermione interjected, her tone sharper. "What are you two going on about?"
Charlie hesitated for a moment longer before sighing and giving in to George's persistent prodding. They'd been going back and forth since Harry turned up yesterday in track pants after presumably being away for half the morning with a furious Professor Snape. George insisting it proved his month-long theory right, Charlie disagreeing, saying he ought to keep his nose out of it. While Charlie thought it was nice to have a bit of George back, the more playful and mischievous side of him shining through again, he didn't like to get into others' private matters.
"Alright, but you've got to keep it quiet, Hermione," Charlie motioned down to Ron, who was still snoring softly. "Don't tell him, or this will turn into a right bloody mess." Taking a small breath, Charlie continued in a whisper, "George seems to think Snape's using a certain form of punishment on Harry for rule-breaking, though I reckon he's wrong, and it's not anyone's business anyway."
"You're not the least bit curious about it?" George raised his brows.
"Oh, please just speak plainly," Hermione scowled. "What do you mean by a 'certain form' of punishment?"
George let out a little chuckle, ignoring Charlie's scolding expression.
"Let's just say Professor Snape prefers a more traditional method of discipline in Slytherin," said George, his lightheartedness a sharp contrast to Hermione's growing unease.
"Which is?" The urgency in Hermione's tone rose above a whisper. Suddenly, she was bombarded with concern, recalling what Filch had mentioned about students 'screaming' from the archaic punishments once inflicted at Hogwarts. "Please don't tell me Snape has one of those dreadful blood quills," she said quickly, "or something even more… medieval."
"Blood quills?" Charlie furrowed his brows, glancing away from the floating checker pieces.
"Ah, not a chance," George interjected with a grin, a faint mischievous twinkle in his eye. "No blood quill, no—nothing too scandalous… just a good ol' wooden paddle, you know."
"A what?" Hermione leaned forward sharply, her leg jerking against Ron's head.
It was then that Ron woke up, startled.
"Oi," he said groggily, shifting from his back to his stomach. "What are you jolting up for, 'mione? You alright?"
"N-nothing, yes—go back to sleep." Hermione hurried her hand back through his hair, then shot a stunned look between George and Charlie.
Ron was out again in a few minutes, and Hermione dropped her tone to a whisper.
"I hardly believe that! Hogwarts doesn't allow physical punishments anymore," she said, attempting to reassure herself. "I haven't heard of anything like that from anyone."
George smiled and took a hearty swig of his hot chocolate. Charlie, on the other hand, let out a weary sigh and cast a thoughtful glance up at Hermione.
"Well, most of the houses have moved away from corporal punishment, but Professor Snape seems to be resistant to the shift," Charlie explained with a hint of reservation in his voice. "That doesn't mean Harry's getting smacked, though. Bloody hell, that's a leap and a half, George." He flashed him a serious look.
"Care to put a galleon on it?" George challenged him with a small grin, then glanced up at Hermione. "I'd wager Harry isn't bogged down with a load of chores for breaking rules. Not if he's being treated like a Slytherin. You ever see that house scrubbing out cauldrons or sweeping floors?" He raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eye. "Slytherins don't sit in detention; they don't sit much at all after getting it from Snape." He let out a slight chuckle, keeping his voice quiet. "Besides, it's just the two of them over there anyway, not like there's likely a mountain of messes for Harry to clean up."
"But he's of age now," Hermione countered firmly, her trepidation building. "Why on earth would he go along with something like that? Getting smacked with a paddle sounds awful—horrible really. It doesn't make sense why Harry would put up with it."
Charlie's magical checker piece skipped across the air and ate one of George's.
"Oh, smackings aren't that awful," George remarked casually, frowning at the checker piece now swallowing his. "Fred and I took more whacks than a Bludger from Mum over the years. Stings like hell, sure, but it never dampened our spirits. And Snape," he dropped his voice to more of a whisper, "he's got a wizards mentality on smackings. He doesn't give a toss about age. I heard he got after a seventh year the day before graduating."
Hermione's mouth dropped open before she snapped it shut. She contemplated it all, running her fingertips across the bottom of her lip. She couldn't very well challenge George on the pain of smackings, given she'd never experienced one herself. But the concept of Snape hitting the Slytherins seemed so far-fetched, she couldn't simply believe it without question.
"How can you be so certain that it's not a rumor?" Hermione swallowed, suddenly feeling an urge to fly after Harry and ask him straight away. "How do you two know about this?"
"It's all a bit 'hush-hush'," admitted Charlie. "The Slytherins, they're real tight-lipped about it. But somehow, the first-years always manage to let something slip before they get a proper telling off from their lot. Heard a younger gal grumbling to an older lad in the hallway after Transfiguration about getting smacked just before he shut her up and turned on me for listening in."
Hermione glanced around, running her fingers a bit more rapidly through Ron's hair.
"But if that were still happening, I imagine I would've heard something myself. How is it that I haven't? Ron either—he's never mentioned this." Hermione glanced down at him. "Certainly not anyone I've ever spoken to in Gryffindor has a clue."
"Damage control," George smiled, his checker piece maneuvering across the air and eating Charlie's. "Loads of nasty threats and blackmail. They do a right good job of protecting their house secrets. They even have the loyalty of a few blokes like Charlie here, who stopped Fred and I from telling Roonil when we found out in our fourth year."
"He would've spread that through the whole bloody school," Charlie said adamantly. "I had a mate in Slytherin with connections in Romania – Dragon keepers, mind you – that would've come for my neck if he found out our family blew the lid on something so private. Took enough effort just to keep you twins quiet."
The room fell silent for a moment as Hermione absorbed this bombshell of information. Her mind raced, grappling with everything they'd just said. The thought of Harry potentially being subjected to such harsh punishment churned her stomach, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him. Maybe George didn't think smackings were all that bad, but Harry didn't deserve to get hit. Merlin, he'd been through enough already with the war.
"Look, just don't go asking Harry about it," said Charlie, seriously. "If he is getting smacked, which is a big if, he likely doesn't want to chat about it."
"Yes, well," Hermione glanced around, running her fingers slowly through Ron's hair now. "We tell each other everything, you see."
"Yeah, but not something like this," Charlie countered, pausing the game with a flick of his wand to look up at her. "That's a private sort of thing for a bloke. For anyone, really. He'll tell you if he wants to, but if not, best just assume he's doing chores for cock-ups and leave it be. If he wants to move out of Snape's place, he will. What goes on there is his business in the meantime."
Another small pause hung in the air, Hermione thinking at a million miles a minute. As Charlie shifted the conversation to other topics, her thoughts remained fixated on Snape and Harry. She found herself replaying snippets of their recent interaction in her mind, searching for clues that might confirm or refute her suspicions. Was Harry's unease and flushed face in the greenhouse due to the threat of a smacking? Is that why he was so compliant when Snape called him? Perhaps that's what they'd whispered about when he went over to talk with Snape in hushed tones. With each passing moment, Hermione's anxiety only intensified, and a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.
"Come along, everyone," Mrs. Weasley soon interrupted, a plate of bangers in hand. "Dinner's ready."
"Trust me, Hermione," Charlie stood up, "don't fuss over it. Let Harry be." He made his way to the kitchen, waving for George to follow.
George moved to comply but bent down to Hermione before she could rouse Ron.
"I don't think it's all that big a deal," he whispered, giving her a little wink. "I say, ask away, and let me know what he says." He paused, his expression dimming slightly. "Fred would've agreed. He'd have found a way to get Ron up for that little chat we had too."
He shook his head, drew in a little breath, and smacked Ron on the side of his thigh.
"Up you get," George said rather loudly, "food's nearly gone."
"It is?" Ron said sleepily, pushing himself up from Hermione's lap.
"No." Hermione rolled her eyes at George, who gave her a little smile in passing. "We're about to go have dinner now."
"Oh, good." Ron yawned, stretching. He glanced around, "Right then. Where's Harry?"
"He," Hermione paused, glancing out the window. "He went back to Snape's. For that…discussion… he mentioned earlier."
"Oh yeah," Ron sighed, tossing the light-patterned blanket off his body. "I wish he'd bloody move out already. Why couldn't they just talk before he came over?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione said, though a growing suspicion made her uneasy.
Ron stood up, offering his hand down to her to take.
"What were you chatting on about?" He pulled her up and in close, teasing as he gave her a small kiss. "Nearly knocked me to the floor, you did."
Hermione glanced down to Harry's half-drunk mug of hot chocolate, suddenly at a rare loss for words.
Author's notes: Hermione's finally here! She's a bit more preceptive than Ron, isn't she? I enjoyed the relaxed sort of pace for this chapter and I'm looking forward to writing the next! I hope to be able to post next Sunday, but it's a little tight with the obligations I have this week. I'll update this note when I know if I'll be able to meet the deadline or not. Much love to you all! Thank you for your continued support and enthusiasm. 3
Ishmeet: Your excited comments always bring the biggest smile to my face. Thank you so much for the enthusiasm and love for this story! I'm delighted to know the last chapter had you feeling a wide range of emotions. I so appreciate the compliments to my writing style and your patience with my updates. There will certainly be more scenes with Draco and Snape in the coming chapters. I love that you're looking forward to them!
Hamlet: Ah, you know something's going down with Ron soon ;) I love how different Ron and Snape are, your reflections on their personalities was spot on! Thank you, as always, for your love on the last chapter! I'm so glad you enjoyed it despite the intensity. I loved hearing about your favorite parts of it. I laughed out loud at your comment on Snape needing some hand cream after such an onslaught. You've got a point! Smacking like that certainly hurts his hand and I imagine that Harry would *definitely* throw in a cheeky comment like the one you suggested. So glad you enjoyed the bits of humor at the end of the chapter as well. After so many emotions, I always think a bit of cheeky deflection helps soften the mood. Have a lovely week! Thank you for supporting me and sharing your wonderful thoughts each chapter. I look forward to them every Monday morning after updating :)
Liseyloo123: I was so touched that you dropped in to share your thoughts even though you typically hold off when there's more to come. Thank you! I'm delighted to know that you think Snape's character development in this story is believable. It's a bit of a challenge to keep him 'Snape-like' while also showcasing a more affectionate side to him that we hardly saw in canon. That being said, your comment regarding his portrayal in this fic was so encouraging! I thought your review was easy to read and everything you said made perfect sense. There will be more to come with Ron soon- a few twists down the line and some repercussions for this stunt with Harry. Thank you again for commenting and sharing your kind words with me! I appreciate it.
Librarymom4: Lovely to hear from you again! I'm so glad you thought the chapter was worth the wait :) Thank you so much for saying the story is well written; that is such a compliment to me. It's great to know you're enjoying the developments between Snape and Harry in addition to the spanking scenes. I appreciate your feedback!
MusicMelis: Ah! Your review was fantastic! I absolutely loved reading about the parts of the chapter that stood out to you. I'm relieved you didn't think Snape came across as cruel (some of the cp stories I've read with him are borderline, so I try to keep him fair). I love that the hug and validation Snape gave Harry warmed your heart! Your appreciation for the 'Muggle nudist' line was great (so glad you liked that! lol). I re-read your comment a few times as it brought such a smile to my face! Thank you so incredibly much for your kind words, compliments to my writing style and thoughtful encouragement. I can't tell you how great it made me feel to hear that you re-read the chapters throughout the week. That's so touching! Thank you once more :)