[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic per say, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.
Author's notes: regarding the setting for this fic, please see the introductory notes at the beginning of chapter 1. Intense spanking of Harry in this chapter, lengthier and more descriptive than the last.
Chapter 13: Lie Down
Snape stood silently in the sun soaked glow of the kitchen's warm light. A sense of heaviness weighing on his shoulders that contrasted the brightness around him as he prepared a pot of tea.
Though he was more than resolved in his decision to discipline Harry, he hardly relished the thought of punishing him twice in one day. Unbeknownst to the condemned young wizard, the impending spankings filled Snape with his own mix of dread and resignation. Perhaps if Harry was a more submissive boy it would be easier to administer punishments, however the wizard's natural independence and strong will had made the last experience quite taxing for Snape.
He despised hearing the boy sob, especially when he caught sight of those familiar green eyes glistening with anguish. He understood the importance of discipline, but it was difficult to steel himself against the flinching boy over his lap's pain-laced cries.
As Snape measured the dried lavender, he dwelled on the reasoning behind this strict approach. Harry's lack of self-control, exacerbated by the trauma of the war, was a deep cause for concern. Just as Minerva suggested, Snape worried that without guidance, Harry might resort to violence as an outlet for his emotional turmoil, like he himself had many, many, years ago. The memories of the boy's uncontrolled outburst from the previous night lingered in his mind. Snape knew that he had to be firm, for Harry's own well-being.
As he poured the cool water into the teapot, Snape wondered how long it would take to truly reach Harry.
Could he even help the boy channel his emotions and find healthier outlets for his pain? Snape audibly sighed, grappling with the thought.
He relied on the only method of discipline he knew that had once induced compliance when he was young and foolish; even though it made everyone involved momentarily uncomfortable.
Snape left the tea to steep and snatched up a newspaper from the countertop, his internal conflict still lingering as he waited for Harry to join him in the kitchen.
SCENE BREAK
Harry's heart thudded in anxious anticipation as he reached the bottom of the wooden staircase. His clean hands were slick with sweat, as he clung loosely to the menacing wooden hairbrush in his right hand. Each creaking step down the staircase exacerbated his anxiety.
He couldn't shake his growing humiliation of the impending punishments as he approached the kitchen, one painstaking step at a time. The anticipation weighed heavily on his shoulders, desperately urging him to get it over with and postpone it, all at the same time.
With each passing second, Harry's trepidation grew, wrapping around him like a suffocating trap. He gave himself one more moment to mentally prepare, stopping just before the kitchen entryway.
This was awful.
Harry sucked in one last shaky breath before stepping into the warm, sunlit kitchen. He first noticed the steaming tea kettle on the iron stove, then his gaze wandered over to Snape, who was seemingly engrossed in a newspaper at the kitchen table.
Great, he had to break the silence.
"I, um, I'm back Professor Snape," Harry said quietly, unable to bring himself to look anywhere other than at the table in front of Snape.
Dropping the first half of the newspaper, Snape let it collapse on itself in a seamless fold.
"So you are," he replied, his gaze traveling to the ashamed young man.
Harry's hair was still a brown damp mop and his skin looked somewhat dewy, hinting at the thorough shower he'd indulged in.
Harry nodded, drifting his gaze to the floor. He fidgeted uncomfortably, ever so slightly rotating the dense hairbrush at his side.
"I trust you had sufficient time to consider your transgressions?" Snape asked, setting the newspaper down.
"I did, sir." Harry swallowed hard and sucked in a small breath, "I was—"
"Hold on," Snape interjected as he laced his fingers together and leaned slightly forward. "You need to address me properly for this conversation. Eyes on mine, Potter."
Harry hated how small and awkward he felt, but forced himself to gaze into Snape's disciplinary stare.
Snape gave him a curt nod, "Continue."
Harry swallowed the flurry of frustration that momentarily boiled up in him and refocused on his apology.
"I was wrong for breaking the house rules and smashing the dowel. I should've controlled myself, but I didn't." Harry admitted, "I'm extra sorry for throwing up on you." He added, offering a small, embarrassed smile.
"Indeed, I trust when the day is through you will think twice before allowing yourself to behave in such a manner," Snape replied, moving to stand. "Hand me your hairbrush," he commanded, extending his potion stained palm out.
On que Harry's stomach plummeted. These ordeals were beginning to feel like the winding courses of a roller coaster track.
Harry swallowed and walked a bit closer to Snape, gingerly setting the hefty wooden brush in his outstretched palm.
Snape curled his calloused fingers around the smooth wooden handle and brought it down to his side.
"Come with me," he directed, motioning for Harry to follow him into the living room.
Harry nodded and moved to comply. Each step he took behind Snape felt heavy, laden with sweaty and shaky trepidation.
Snape carefully set the hairbrush down on the wooden coffee table, the gentle thud echoing in the room.
Then, in one swift motion, he withdrew his wand and flicked it with practiced precision, causing the sheer black curtains over the three rectangular windows to abruptly drag shut.
Harry swallowed as his shallow breaths picked up in frequency. With the drapes now closed, the once bright, sunlit living room transformed into a more shadowed space bathed in dim, muted sunlight.
Harry grappled with mixed emotions over the drawn drapes. While they provided a semblance of privacy, their presence heightened the discomfort in the room, amplifying his awareness of Snape's stern presence. A thought crossed his mind—were the drapes a response to Ron coming into the yard unannounced the previous day? After all, who else would pose a threat to their privacy by lingering in the backyard and peering through the window?
Snape disrupted Harry's contemplation, effortlessly lifting the corner of the coffee table and pushing it forward in a quiet drag to create more legroom. With the same precision that invaded every corner of his life, Snape adjusted his silk trousers and gracefully settled onto the vintage couch.
Perhaps to some, Snape might have appeared quite handsome sitting there with his legs spread slightly, clad in his ebony cardigan and deep green trousers. However, to Harry, he might as well have been a Dementor.
"Potter," Snape said slowly, interrupting the young wizard's anxious thoughts, "having a little trouble moving our feet today, are we?"
Harry glanced around, suddenly realizing he was a good twenty paces or so away from Snape.
"Oh," Harry said softly, forcing his fidgeting feet to move, "right, sorry."
Snape nodded, lifting an eyebrow up a moment later when Harry still stopped short— just out of arm's reach.
Trying not to lose his patience, Snape sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms casually on his spread thighs and interlacing his fingers.
He leveled Harry with a no nonsense glare, "Come directly to me." Snape said, in a terrifyingly low tone.
Harry moaned softly and pulled his right hand up to his mouth, unconsciously biting his nail. "I'm coming, sir," he replied, though he hardly moved forward.
Snape motioned to a spot on the floor in front of his lap and gave Harry an impatient glare.
Harry pushed himself to walk to it, though his pace could've been quicker for Snape's liking.
As Harry reached the designated spot between Snape's outstretched knees, he crossed his arms around his chest, attempting to slow his rapid breaths.
Snape paused, noticing the rise and fall of Harry's thin chest.
"Ready for your punishment, or do you need a moment?" Snape asked, leaning back into a more upright position.
"I'm ready," Harry said quietly, forcing himself to look down into Snape's dark, stern eyes.
"I'm ready, sir," Snape corrected, making Harry's stomach do another acrobatic flip. He remembered the same words out of Snape's mouth in his potions class, two years prior.
Although unlike then, Harry had the sense not to give him cheek now.
"Sorry," Harry said, dropping his arms from their crossed position, "I'm ready now, sir."
"Very well," Snape said, "Hand me your glasses."
Harry let out a shaky breath and fought to keep himself from growing sick as he removed his glasses and folded them carefully.
He extended them down to Snape, keeping his gaze on his feet and his head slightly bent.
Snape took the glasses and carefully set them far out of reach in the center of the wooden coffee table.
"Stand here," Snape instructed, motioning to his right side.
Harry willed himself to obey, ready to get his spanking over with, despite the cartwheels his stomach was doing. He began to wonder if the torrent of anxiety he was experiencing was worse than the actual punishment.
Snape nodded, so far satisfied with Harry's compliance, minus the initial hesitation from the young wizard.
"Do you remember the rules for how you are required to receive this punishment, Potter?" Snape asked.
"Um…" Harry thought for a moment, fidgeting his fingertips, "I know I'm not supposed to kick you." He answered honestly.
"Indeed, you most certainly should not." Snape replied.
He knew that the rule was hardly applicable for a boy of Harry's size. Still, Snape deemed it necessary to include it after Draco had somehow managed to clip his chin with his heel during a particularly stern punishment last year. That had certainly not ended well for the pitiable blonde.
Snape regained his focus on Harry, "There are a few others to consider, can you conjure them?"
"I don't remember, sir," Harry said quietly, dropping his gaze to Snape's outstretched lap. His heart thumped harder as he remembered how firm Snape's thighs felt under his bare hips the last time he was in this position. Ughhh.
"Very well, take note so you remember them for this evening," Snape began, making Harry wince at the reminder of his bedtime spanking.
"You may cry, which is a natural reaction to the discomfort of this particular punishment. Do not, however, result to hysterical behavior in an attempt to conclude prematurely," Snape warned, leveling Harry with a look that made him squirm.
"I won't, sir," Harry responded quietly, breaking eye contact.
Snape nodded, "You are required to lie still across my lap, to the best of your ability, and accept your punishment. I understand that it may prove challenging, but I expect your best effort."
Harry nodded, rubbing his sweaty hands on the side of his trousers, "Yes, sir."
"Lastly," Snape said, fixing Harry with a pointed look, "refrain from attempting to block any smacks with your hands. I'd prefer not to rap your knuckles."
Harry grimaced, remembering how hard it was to keep his hands in front last time. Ugh, this was going to really suck— suddenly wasn't ready again.
"Any attempt to shield yourself by pulling back your hands will result in immediate restraint. Such insolence will also earn you additional strikes to the back of your thighs," Snape warned, noting the instant reddening of Harry's ears.
"Are these stipulations clear?" Snape asked slowly, letting his gaze rest on Harry's downcast eyes.
Harry let out a dejected sigh and nodded, "Yes, sir. Everything is clear."
"As it should be," Snape said, his tone stern. He drew in a slight breath and considered how he wanted to proceed.
Harry was already squirming like a hare caught in a trap, and Snape, having known the boy for years, was acutely aware that he would rather do anything other than willingly remove his trousers and pants.
Snape considered the prospect of pulling Harry over his lap and disrobing him afterward—a task that had once proved challenging in his early years of disciplining students. Yet, after fourteen years of refining his disciplinary techniques, Snape could now execute it with ease.
He thought for a moment more, letting Harry sweat and fidget. While he could give the young wizard an easier path out, sparing his dignity– accepting responsibility for his actions was a necessity Snape wanted to instill in Harry, even if he had to fight him through it.
Snape met Harry's familiar, emerald eyes, experiencing a complex surge of dread and dismay at the reluctance he saw in them.
"Alright, Potter," Snape's voice cut through the tense air, stern as ever, "remove both your trousers and pants, and lie down across my lap."
Snape's dark eyes narrowed as Harry inevitably hesitated.
The young wizard's face turned a brilliant shade of red, and he swallowed hard before finally muttering, "Sir, I... I, um… c-can't we do it like we did last time?"
Harry's voice wavered, dripping with hot embarrassment, as every word hung heavy in the air. He loathed every aspect of this situation, and his hesitant movements next to Snape's right thigh made his discomfort painfully evident.
Snape's stern expression remained unyielding: "No, Potter, my instructions were clear. I will not accommodate your discomfort at the expense of proper discipline. Stand and proceed as directed."
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, his voice barely above a whisper, "I really despise this," he muttered, bringing his twitching hands up to the waistband of his trousers.
After fumbling nervously for a moment, he popped the metal clasp button and tried not to cringe while pulling his trousers down– just below his bum.
He gave Snape a final pleading look, but seeing no wavering his dark gaze, Harry groaned loudly, and quickly pulled his loose boxer-pants down too.
Painful embarrassment flooded him from his head to his toes as he straightened back up.
"Lie down," Snape commanded, motioning across his dark green trousers.
Harry didn't have to be told twice, in an instant his bare hips pressed down into Snape's strong thighs. Harry flushed deeply, keeping his head tucked low as Snape took a few moments to adjust his position.
Unlike the last time, Harry didn't find himself fully upended over Snape's knees. Instead he was laying across Snape's lap, in a near plank fashion, with his feet and upper body supported by the velvety soft couch.
It was more comfortable for him, but he knew it wouldn't make any difference for the pain.
Snape remained quiet, pulling Harry a bit closer to his hip and placing his calloused, warm hand on the young wizard's lower back.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath when he felt Snape lift his shirt a bit, clearing the lower hem away from his naked bum. The motion made him flinch as a small chill crawled down his spine.
"Lift your hips, Potter," Snape suddenly instructed, tapping at Harry's gathered up trousers and pants resting just below his bum.
Harry blanched and shuddered at the command, but pushed his hips up obediently. Snape's warm hand touched the back of his thigh as he yanked the rest of Harry's clothes down, exposing the back of his stippled thighs.
"This evening, I'd like you to remove your pants entirely," Snape said, sending a flood of heat through Harry's chest.
Harry knew he should reply but he was too embarrassed to utter a word. Instead, he gave a meek nod and interlaced his fingers behind his head, allowing his palms to rest on his damp brown hair.
Despite the absence of the cold atmosphere and formality of the Potions Classroom, this intimate, living room setting was exponentially worse.
Snape suppressed a sigh at the boy's lack of response.
"Tell me, is it your intention to provoke the strap, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice sounding icy cold.
"What?! N-no, I'm sorry," Harry said quickly, moving his arms down from the back of his head, "I-I will take my pants all the way off tonight." He replied quietly, a thrill of dread tickling his chest.
"Indeed you will," Snape said, shifting ever so slightly. "You will also answer promptly when spoken to, or you will quickly find yourself in a situation far more uncomfortable than a mere session with the hairbrush. Is that perfectly clear, Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Harry responded quickly in a hushed tone, his fingers fidgeting as one hand slid beneath his head while the other anxiously bit at a nail.
Harry hated the way Snape's firm thighs felt beneath his vulnerable, exposed hips— reminding him of his position. The pressed dark fabric of Snape's trousers felt soft and deceptively comfortable; yet, each flex and shift below Harry's hips reminded him of the painful discipline to come.
Snape's threat lingered in the charged air, intensifying Harry's already palpable nervousness as he laid there waiting and exposed.
Harry swallowed when he felt Snape press his warm hand down firmly on Harry's lower back.
Harry screwed his eyes shut, his stomach dropping at the shift in movement. A second later he felt the first firm swat smack down across his bare bum.
The initial sting and burn was shocking, it took everything in him not to let out a soft gasp as the pain spread.
Without hesitation, Snape followed the first smack with twelve punishing others.
Harry let out a barely audible, "Ahhh," as the pain began to build.
His skin blossomed into pink blotches under Snape's calloused hand while the room filled with a tense hush, the only sound audible being the continued crisp smacks.
Harry held his breath as the stinging, prickly warmth erupted across the plains of his unprotected skin.
Though the pain wasn't particularly awful yet, the sensation of Snape's palm smacking his exposed bum over, and over, and over, again made Harry beg silently for death.
Humiliation coursed through every corner of Harry's body as the next round of stinging smacks started. He focused hard on staying as still as possible, naturally holding his breath when each smack came down, hurting a little more than the last.
Snape sighed at Harry's staunch silence and continued to bring his hand up and down in precise, firm smacks. Two minutes went by, then three and four.
Harry's reddening bum clenched between each strike, making Snape feel a sense of utter dismay.
Though Harry was holding out far better than he had the last time, Snape knew it was only a matter of time before the punished boy broke the silence. His hand soon began to sting but he knew well from experience, Harry's bum felt worse.
Harry shifted and flinched more frequently, letting out soft little moans of pain, as Snape worked his way down to focus on the lower part of his punished bum.
Harry bit his lip hard and clenched his hands, shifting his head to face the black drapes drawn across the windows. It was getting more challenging to stay quiet, and Snape seemed to be smacking harder and harder.
Continuing with the firm smacks, Snape glanced down at Harry's pained face. When he saw something that both upset and stressed him, he paused, his right palm held high.
"Stop that, this instant," Snape said sharply.
Harry's chest heaved with pent frustration as Snape inexplicably halted the punishing smacks.
He had hoped they were on the verge of concluding this part, but his growing realization that he was losing control over his emotions made his breath hitch.
"Stop what?" Harry shot out, keeping his lip between his teeth.
The sharp quip made Snape narrow his dark eyes.
A brief silence hung in the warm air as the muted sunlight filtered in through the drawn black drapes, casting soft shadows across the living room. The atmosphere, tinged with the faint scent of cedar and lingering smoke, felt heavy with tension. The silence was broken only by the sound of Harry's uneven breaths as he waited.
In that threatening pause, Snape let the weight of Harry's disrespectful remark linger, allowing the consequences to hang in the air like an unspoken truth.
"Mind your tone, Potter," Snape whispered with a chilling menace. "Or you will be one very sorry little wizard."
The unfamiliar, patronizing nickname, did not sit well with Harry. Despite the achey throb in his backside, he let his temper spill over.
"Oh, sorry— I meant, stop what exactly, Professor? You were a little vague." Harry retorted, the words punctuated by the audible bite of his lip.
His voice carried a strong blend of defiance and frustration, adding to the tense atmosphere.
Snape drew in a sharp breath, his frustration with Harry mounting.
"Silence." Snape said in a low voice, emphasizing his point by giving Harry's thin hip a tight squeeze.
"Enough cheek. You will cease this unnecessary, childish lip-biting at once," Snape commanded, his voice cutting through the charged air as he motioned to Harry's bitten lip. "You may be physically enduring this punishment, but until you allow yourself to submit emotionally, you'll only prolong it."
The words lingered in the room, underscoring Snape's unwavering expectation for Harry to recognize his place within the disciplinary process.
Harry's chest tightened, and he felt a surge of frustration and confusion. He stammered for a moment, caught between conflicting emotions.
"You want me to be emotional… in the middle of being punished for being too emotional? How does that make any sense, Professor Snape?" Harry burst out, pushing himself up on his elbows. His words were edged with defiance, but beneath that, there was a hint of genuine bewilderment.
Snape's eyes narrowed with impatience. He maintained a stern demeanor, his voice measured and controlled.
"I'm punishing you for your destructive outburst and breaking the rules, Potter, not for experiencing emotions," Snape stated sharply. "Acknowledge your feelings, but channel them appropriately. Your defiance only adds unnecessary time and discomfort to this process."
Harry huffed and let his chest drop back down to the velvety soft couch. This sucked so bad.
Snape glanced back to Harry's punished skin, then firmly administered eight more smacks, four to each side of his reddened bum, to emphasize his point.
Harry groaned, letting go of his bitten lip. Tears sprang forth to the back of his eyes but he refused to let them fall.
He felt Snape shift, his soft cardigan briefly pressing into Harry's exposed lower back as he leaned forward to retrieve the hairbrush from the coffee table.
Harry's frustration dwindled when he felt the cold hard surface of the hairbrush pat a few times across his aching bum. Dread coiled in his stomach as he dropped his head into his outstretched hands.
Oh, bloody hell, Harry thought as he felt Snape shift and tighten his warm hand over the edge of his hip.
Harry sucked in a fast breath when he felt the cold, smooth surface of the hairbrush momentarily disappear.
In an instant, sharp, blinding pain shot through his bum as the hairbrush struck down four hard times, twice on the center of each cheek.
"Owww!" Harry cried out, jerking and screwing his eyes shut at the sudden eruption of pain.
Snape shifted, securing his grip on Harry. A tense breath escaped Snape's lips as he steeled himself for the task at hand. The room seemed to quiet, each moment stretching as he raised the hairbrush. With deliberate precision, he brought it up and down on Harry's exposed backside, the sharp smacks echoing through the room. The cadence was slow and deliberate, the sound a rhythmic punctuation to the charged atmosphere. Snape's gaze remained fixed, his face a mask of stern determination as he continued the measured discipline
In an instant, a surge of warmth blurred Harry's vision as tears welled up in his eyes. His resolve crumbled, and he quickly surrendered to the river of torrent emotion. The tears spilled down his cheeks in hot, relentless waves, each droplet carrying the weight of pent-up feelings. The room seemed to blur even more than before as he blinked through the haze of his own vulnerability, the salty taste of his tears a bitter acknowledgment of the emotional release he could no longer contain.
Each firm thwack of the brush made him moan and whine as he cried out, releasing the pent up emotions in his chest.
It only took a few more well placed smacks for Harry to lose all self preservation. It hurt so bad, far worse than the ruler.
"S-Snape," Harry cried, jerking his legs and shifting his torso, "I-I, owww, 'mm sorry!"
"Lie still," Snape said without breaking the punishing rhythm. He had long resolved not to insist upon formality in these moments, understanding that Harry had enough on his mind without the need for proper titles.
Regardless, Harry could not possibly lie still. It stung– it really, really, stung, and it was taking all the willpower he could conjure to stay put over Snape's lap.
"Owww, ow, oww! It-it hurts-s!" Harry pleaded, digging his hips into Snape's thighs after each slow smack.
As the hairbrush whacked down three more times, Harry's legs jerked in short, powerful kicks.
Despite his conscious effort to stay in place, Harry exerted a forceful pull, rolling off Snape's lap and landing heavily on his unsteady knees.
"Harry Potter," Snape snapped, the unexpected movement catching him off guard. He shot down a disappointed look at the sob-stricken young man now pooled at his feet.
"That was exceptionally childish. Stop behaving like an undisciplined first-year, and place yourself back in position." Snape instructed, moving to grab hold of Harry's arm.
Harry merely shook his head, crying hard as he moved his hands to rub at his sore, punished skin. "I-I," he tried to get out a cohesive sentence but failed miserably.
Snape drew in a long, steading breath as Harry dramatically dropped his head to the velvet couch beside his right knee and heaved, his frame trembling with previously suppressed sobs.
Snape knew he was delivering a harder spanking than he had in the dungeon, but Merlin, this punishment was no harsher than any of the others he'd doled out to misbehaving seventh years. The theatrics from Harry, however, threatened to break Snape's resolute composure, rendering the disciplinary act all the more disheartening for him.
Steeling himself to the boy's harsh sobs, Snape locked down firmly onto Harry's bicep and gave it a firm tug.
"We are not through, Harry," Snape said in a low authoritative tone that lacked the dismay he felt. "You will stand and lie back down this instant."
Harry let out a groan as Snape urged him to get off the floor. His bum ached and throbbed and he really, really didn't want to obey.
"I-it hurt-s-s," Harry cried as he pushed his trembling legs to stand back up, trying not to trip on his pooled up pants by his ankles.
"As it is intended to," Snape snapped back, moving his grip from Harry's bicep to his wrist as the young man stood up.
Harry hiccuped a few times and drew in a few short, shaky breaths. To his surprise Snape did not yank him back over or push him down, just waited patiently.
Harry swallowed and pulled his hands back to rub at his aching backside.
"Enough," Snape said instantly, swatting at Harry's moving hands.
"S-sorry," Harry muttered, pulling his hands away and glancing down at Snape. His blurry, red rimmed eyes lacked any trace of defiance, with tears flowing freely down his flushed cheeks.
"Clearly, maintaining a simple position is beyond your capabilities. Allow me to provide the assistance typically reserved for first-years," Snape said, avoiding his dark eyes from Harry's distraught green ones.
Harry moaned and looked up to the cream colored ceiling, this was worse than he'd imagined.
Snape pulled himself to the edge of the velvet couch, and spread his legs a bit more, motioning Harry over to his left thigh.
"Bend over my knee," Snape said, devoid of any patience for Harry's reluctance.
"I-I…don't, w-want to," Harry stammered, attempting to regain control of his emotions.
Snape felt the defiance like a weight on his shoulders, a persistent frustration that extended this ordeal unnecessarily.
"Indeed," Snape replied, his tone unyielding, as if daring Harry to challenge him, "if you wanted to, this would hardly be effective, now would it?"
Harry drew in a few more shaky breaths, then, between sobs, murmured, "you d-don't understand h-how bad it h-hurts."
Snape scoffed, grabbing Harry's bicep and giving it a firm tug, "Clearly, Potter, my extensive experience with this discipline has left me utterly clueless about the exquisite pain you're enduring."
Harry winced at Snape's sarcastic remark, a pang of regret instantly coursing through him. "I-I, I d-didn't mean–"
Snape pointed the wooden hairbrush up to Harry, halting his broken sentence, "I am through with this insolent stammering of yours. You have precisely one, and I mean one, second to bend over or we can extend your punishment to three sessions rather than two."
Harry blanched, his tears now a gentle stream rather than the previous uncontrollable sobs.
He moved forward but stopped when his pants almost tripped him. Without thinking much about it, Harry reached down to Snape's shoulder, holding it for support as he yanked his trousers and pants off with his bare feet.
Harry quickly bent back over, huffing in short breaths from the slowing sobs, without looking back into Snape's punishing eyes.
Snape sighed and drew the young wizard closer to his hip, wrapping his free arm around the boy's waist to secure him.
Then, to Harry's utter dread, Snape used his right leg to lock over Harry's hanging ones, securing him in place.
Harry wanted to protest the imprisonment but was too tired and sore to fight. He hung his head low and let out a devastated moan as he felt Snape shift, preparing to start back up. He wasn't sure how much more he could willingly take.
Snape sealed off the surge of regret he felt and pulled the hairbrush up.
In a flash– Harry's pulsating backside ignited with fresh pain as Snape smacked the brush down three times.
"Ahh– owww!" Harry cried in response, jerking hard but moving nowhere as Snape held him firmly in place.
Snape smacked Harry three more times, returning him to his dejected sobs as he flinched with each stroke.
After a few more slow spanks Snape rested the hairbrush on Harry's crimson, flinching bottom. Speaking quietly he said, "Rules are in place here for reasons, Potter. I expect you to follow the guidelines we set and express your emotions in an appropriate way, is that understood?"
Harry nodded his bent head, it was tough to speak through the onslaught of tears but he forced himself to say, "Y-y-yes, s-sir."
"Very well," Snape said, moving to reposition the brush against the top of Harry's untouched upper thigh.
Harry moaned, sucking in a few shaky breaths.
"This is for your interruption at the table as well as your little theatrical tumble off my lap," Snape said, emphasizing his point by tapping the backs of Harry's upper thighs.
"Please n-nooo," Harry begged, "n-not there, S-Snape— p-pleaseee, 'mm s-o s-sorry"
Snape remained resolute, blocking out Harry's pleas and suppressing the ache in his chest triggered by the desperate begging. With a deliberate motion, he drew the brush back, then swiftly delivered six of the most resounding and forceful smacks to each of Harry's exposed thighs.
The explosion of pain on such a tender area took Harry's breath away. He cried loud and hard, drumming his toes on the soft floor as the horrible pain spread across his thighs.
"Sna– ow! Oww– owww!" Harry sobbed, his hands flying up to cover his flushed, tear-soaked face.
Harry's gasps of pain intertwined with muffled cries echoed in the room as Snape finished the stern discipline, the final reverberating smack a reminder of the intensity of the punishment.
It was horrible, scratch that— this spanking was so bloody awful, Harry had no idea how he'd survived.
His sobs reverberated through the room, a sorrowful melody of pain and distress that seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Time lost its meaning as Harry's cries echoed in the warm living room, each tearful note a testament to the deep ache of firm discipline stretched across his exposed thighs and bottom.
Amidst the fervent outpour of tears, there was a subtle touch, a warmth that gradually seeped into Harry's awareness. It was Snape's hand, a steady presence tracing a reassuring path up and down his spine. The comforting touch felt like a fragile life line in the midst of his turbulent emotions.
The room, once filled with the resounding smacks of discipline, now held only the echoes of Harry's grief. Snape's silent support, expressed through that rhythmic motion, helped Harry regain his sense of self.
"Your punishment is at an end," Snape declared over the deluge of tears, his voice steady and firm, "relax, Potter. Take a deep breath."
Harry felt Snape pat his back softly as he whispered small unexpected words of encouragement down.
Harry coughed a few times and sighed with relief when Snape let go of his trapped legs.
The top of his sore bum to now the middle of his thighs ached so badly. Harry felt utterly drained, yet a significant part of him craved the solace provided by Snape. He chose to remain motionless, allowing himself to absorb the gentle hush of the living room and the soothing strokes of Snape's warm hands.
Snape took a final glance at Harry's upturned bum and sighed. It was a deep red hue and the tops of Harry's previously unblemished thighs now bore imprints of the hairbrush. Snape continued to rub soothing, small circles across Harry's back, leaning ever so slightly to inspect further.
He knew it hurt, he knew all too well how uncomfortable Harry felt. But he also knew Harry would be perfectly fine; despite the skin's angry red hue, there were no bruises or battered marks on the surface. Just a well disciplined bottom on an insolent young boy.
Snape rubbed Harry back for a few minutes more, humming low and whispering little 'hush' sounds at the last remaining tears.
After some time, when Harry's tears had completely subsided and his breathing had returned to its comforting slow rhythm, Snape patted Harry's back a few times. "Are we sufficiently composed, Potter?" he asked, his tone retaining its characteristic coolness.
Harry let out a raspy sigh and nodded, "I suppose so," he said, slowly pushing himself off Snape's knee to stand up.
The movement made his whole backside pulsate and Harry winced at the thought of pulling his pants and trousers up.
Gingerly he bent down and snatched up his boxer-pants, taking extra care as he pulled them up and away from his punished skin, letting them snap back into place of his thin hips.
Snape averted his gaze, giving Harry privacy to reposition his clothing as he pulled down the sleeve of his cardigan.
"Um," Harry started, his voice sounded a bit strained as he glanced back down to Snape with tear stained cheeks. "Can I just leave these on for now?" He motioned down to his pants— the loose boxer-shorts.
Snape lifted a curious brow, holding back a small smile that wanted to draw up the corners of his lips. "You may, if it brings you comfort."
"Well, the less pressure the better," Harry said, offering Snape a small, grateful smile.
Surprisingly, Snape returned it ever so slightly.
"Come join me here," Snape said, lightly patting the couch next to where he was seated.
Harry grimaced, the idea of sitting anywhere was not appealing in the slightest.
"Can't I stand, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, wiping another stray tear from his eyes.
"No," Snape said, reaching over to grab Harry's glasses and extending them up to him.
Harry adjusted them on his face, feeling relieved when the living room came into clear focus.
Snape gave Harry a look that said 'sit down,' so he did with reluctance.
Harry bit back a moan as his punished bum met the soft velvet couch. He looked over to Snape with a tinge of lingering apprehension.
"Are you quite alright?" Snape asked, baffling Harry.
"Well… yeah, I suppose," Harry replied, shifting his weight to try and alleviate the pressure.
Snape desired a brief post-disciplinary conversation to ensure Harry grasped the necessity of discipline. However, the task proved challenging as he attempted to concentrate, his attention continually drawn to the pained expression on the boy's face and the subtle winces that accompanied it.
Snape sighed and shifted slightly, creating more space between himself and Harry on the couch. "If you prefer, you may turn to your side and rest your head here for our brief discussion," Snape suggested, patting his thigh.
Harry, his mind clouded with confusion, opted to accept any offer that could alleviate the throbbing ache in his bum. He lowered his head onto Snape's right thigh and shifted to lie on his side, finding relief in this position. The softness of the couch beneath him provided a welcome contrast to the lingering pain.
In response, Snape placed his warm hand on Harry's shoulder, tracing soothing circles with his thumb. Despite the discomfort and the unusual circumstances, a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corners of Harry's lips.
"I hope this lesson is beginning to get through to you, Potter." Snape said in a hushed voice.
Harry yawned and nodded, unconsciously letting his head snuggle into the side of Snape's comforting thigh, "It is, trust me."
Snape opened his mouth to reply but Harry unknowingly cut back in.
"You know what would really help me remember this lesson though?" Harry quipped, his natural lighter tone coming back to his words.
"What?" Snape drawled, lifting a brow up at the boy's head in his lap.
"If you rubbed my neck like you did earlier,I think it would help the lesson stick a little bit more." Harry said, his smile coming through his sentence.
Snape scoffed and rolled his eyes to the heavens, "Yes, because you are so richly deserving of a massage."
Harry's smile grew wide as turned his head to look up at Snape, "It's only fair after the way you practically threw your arm out on me."
Snape's eyes narrowed down at Harry, cheeky little prat, he thought.
"Ah, yes. I've been practicing my spanking technique just for you, Potter. Delighted to have been of service."
Despite all the emotions of the morning and the way his anxiety has diminished now, Harry still found himself flushing at Snape's words as he looked away.
Yet, to Harry's surprise, moments later Snape's potion stained fingers found their way to the back of Harry's flushed neck.
Harry kept his little smile to himself as he relaxed into the firm, comforting strokes going lazily up and down his tense neck.
"This is not a reward for your theatrical behavior, I hope you know," Snape quipped, "merely a tactic to hold your attention for the moment."
"Mm-hmm," Harry mumbled, letting himself melt like butter into the velvet couch. Snape's firm thigh made a decent pillow and he found himself growing a bit sleepy.
Harry listened quietly as Snape droned on about responsibility, emotional control, and inevitable consequences for bad behavior. He made sure to offer up his customary 'yes, sir' and 'I understand,' every so often. But soon found himself dozing as Snape concluded the lecture and allowed the soft silence of the living room to envelope them.
Harry's bum ached so bad but he felt incredibly safe laying there with his head in Snape's lap. For the first time in years, he felt such a weight lifted from his shoulders as he leaned into the comforting touch and soft silence of the living room.
Author's notes: Happy Sunday everyone! I was surprised that I had the flexibility to write so much this week. I hope you have enjoyed the last three chapters, they were each a challenge in their own way but incredibly interesting to flush out. As always, thank you again to everyone who has followed along and engaged with this story so far! DMLucas, I was truly touched by the depth of your comment. Thank you for taking the time to give me such wonderful feedback on both the story and my writing style. That was incredibly rewarding to read! I also agree with your take on a good write about Snape, I love his character and hold out the same hope that he wasn't a truly dark and lost soul. I hope you enjoyed these chapters as much as the others :)
Hamlet, you are such a fantastic reader to have along for this story! Thank you as always for sharing your thoughts. FFN can be a frustrating site to work with (due to the issues) but your comments have made posting here so worth it. Not to make it sound as though you have to comment, you are never obligated of course, but I hope you know I truly cherish every single one you take the time to write! Your details to the storyline and feedback always leave me smiling, genuinely thank you so much!
Much love to you and yours everyone, I'll be back with a new chapter or two soon!
