[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic per say, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.
Author's notes: regarding the setting for this fic, please see the introductory notes at the beginning of chapter 1. Mention of spanking, further mention of Snape's physical abuse.
Chapter 15: An Unexpected Visitor
"To address your inquiry," Snape stated with his customary dryness, turning slightly to face Harry. "Indeed, a few of the draughts I possessed at Hogwarts aided in my recovery upon returning."
Despite Snape's cool and dismissive tone, memories from his painful trip back to Hogwarts resurfaced, lingering like a distant ache in his aged chest.
Years ago, the train had chugged softly up the hills on the afternoon of his return, the rhythmic clinking of the wheels on the tracks resonating through the empty compartment. Knowing he wasn't permitted to stand, Snape had lain on his side, stretched across the long row of seats.
Dark circles encompassed his eyes and pain coupled with exhaustion revealed itself in his pale expression. Even the slightest jolt of the train on the tracks made him groan quietly and wince.
After boarding the familiar area, and finding the compartment completely empty, Snape had finally allowed himself to weep. The solitude of the cabin offered a brief reprieve from the agonizing pain he was in.
Memories of the past week replayed in his mind— the vivid swishing of the cane and the debilitating fear he experienced each day he faced it, lingered like a poison in his veins. Forced to assume a position of complete vulnerability, Snape had laid face down on his bed, the cold sheets providing little comfort against the brutal, relentless assault.
Though he fought to keep some of his composure in the empty cab of the train, young Severus Snape barely controlled his body from convulsing into harsh sobs.
At home, showing vulnerability, pleading for mercy, or releasing his emotions only invited more brutality. Unfortunately, the pain inflicted during the whippings became unbearable by the final day, driving him to violent tears that, in turn, made his father's strikes longer and more forceful.
His room at Spinner's End held no sanctuary for emotional release. Snape, too afraid to cry alone, dared not invoke more beatings by succumbing to the pain each night in solitude.
Relief from escaping his father clashed with an intense fear that his classmates would grow suspicious of his condition, subjecting him to potential humiliation.
When the train had finally arrived at Hogwarts, he slowly made his way to the exit, his determination unwavering despite the dark bruises, soreness, and exhaustion he felt.
By the time he stepped out of the train, he had fully composed himself, keeping his red-rimmed eyes down and away from anyone that might look.
Hidden from view, his body bore the marks of a week of relentless whippings, yet he had concealed his horrible pain with stoic resolve. The slow, hard walk to his room had been a severe test of endurance for Snape, both physically and emotionally, as he navigated the long path back to the dorms of Hogwarts. Yet, he had done it, and proven to himself that he could make it through tortuous things.
Harry frowned, clinking a wet dish and bringing Snape back to the present moment. The fact that Snape had needed magical assistance following his father's punishments made Harry feel sick. He dried a small bowl with a bit more vigor as he considered his response.
"Did you tell anyone what had happened to you, Professor Snape?" Harry asked, placing the overly dried dish to his left.
Snape handed Harry a wet, clean fork and leveled him with an exasperated look. He never thinks, does he? Snape mused to himself.
"Yes, Potter, I could hardly wait to divulge the riveting saga of my home life to people who would undoubtedly use it against me," Snape retorted, his voice laden with a sharp sarcastic edge as he turned back to grab another dish.
Harry let out a pent up sigh, refusing to let the quip afflict his line of interrogation, "Not even Dumbledore or Slughorn knew?"
"No." Snape said slowly, handing over a large wooden serving spoon, the last of the cleaned utensils.
Harry couldn't exactly blame Snape for keeping his horrible homelife private. After all, he hadn't gone around broadcasting his cupboard under the stairs or the drunk lashings from Vernon. But still, he felt a swell of anger that neither Dumbledore or Slughorn knew what was going to happen to Snape at home before subjecting him to separate rounds of the paddle.
"Well… they should have." Harry said firmly.
"Is that so?" Snape replied in a low voice, walking around Harry to collect the dried dishes on the counter.
"Yeah," Harry said sincerely, watching Snape move to the other side of the kitchen, "I don't think they would have been so harsh if they knew what was going to happen to you."
Snape had his back to Harry, positioning the clear glasses to their rightful places in the wooden cupboard.
"Rather presumptuous of you to assume, Potter." Snape quipped, though he knew Harry was right.
"Regardless, it served me better to keep the matter private." Snape concluded after a short pause, methodically placing the silverware in the drawer below the cupboard.
Harry folded the damp drying towel and leaned back a bit against the copper sink. "Why?" He asked, his brows a pensive line of confusion, genuinely baffled by Snape's words.
Snape snapped the silverware drawer shut and moved to collect the larger utensils on the counter.
"Because, Potter, my father's punishments produced no desire for change within me." Snape eventually admitted. He grabbed up the large wooden spoon and fork-like wooden salad server, "the Headmaster and my Head of House's discipline on the other hand, did."
"How were they different?" Harry asked, his green eyes following Snape's precise movements about the kitchen, "Besides being less severe?"
Repositioning the wooden salad serving utensils in their proper place, Snape turned to ignite a few short candles on the counter. They flickered in the darkening blue hue of the kitchen, signifying the approach of night.
"Harry, it's late and this discussion has grown rather long." Snape said, turning to level him with a stern look that reinstilled his authority back into their conversation.
Harry swallowed, a shot of electric heat burst from his chest to his toes at the mention of his first name.
He dropped his gaze from Snape's and glanced around the clean kitchen space, desperate for something to do that would keep their conversation alive.
"Oh look at that," Harry said, a long second later, motioning over to the small dining table. "Forgot to wipe off the tabletop. Why don't you tell me while I do that?"
Snape arched a skeptical eyebrow at Harry's attempt to prolong the conversation, his dark eyes holding a glint of amusement as Harry slowly moved to find a washcloth for the tabletop.
"Procrastination won't guarantee the extension of this conversation, young man." Snape chided, his tone carrying a mixture of sternness and mild amusement.
Harry swallowed hard, he knew where the washcloths were kept, but decided to let his gaze linger slowly around the kitchen anyway.
Snape's eyes narrowed, watching Harry meander around the sink area, refraining from his typical swift intervention just yet.
Under regular circumstances he would've put an end instantaneously to Harry's attempt at stalling. Tonight however, he didn't mind waiting for a bit. Harry was going to bed directly after his second punishment and he had no intention of forcing him to sleep earlier.
Unbeknownst to Harry, Snape was merely trying to steer the conversation toward a less emotional topic when he'd mentioned the late hour. However, as he observed Harry's face light up in a reddish hue, he discerned that the young wizard had incorrectly interpreted the redirection as a preemptive nudge to his impending spanking.
After a moment more, Snape sighed and crossed his arms.
"Put an end to this pointless delay," he interjected, after a painfully prolonged observation of Harry's feigned search. "You are well aware that the cleaning supplies are stored beneath the sink."
"Oh," Harry said, faking surprise as a small flush crept up his neck. "So they are."
He half-heartedly opened the bottom cabinet below the sink and glanced around.
Snape opened his mouth to chide him once more but Harry suddenly found a little nerve as he snatched up a rag.
He took a deep breath and pinched his eyes shut, forcing himself to say, "I want to understand why you like to discipline me the way you do, Professor Snape… especially after your history with, um, awful smackings."
Harry was able to get it out somewhat clearly with his back turned to Snape, forcing himself not to turn beat red with embarrassment.
For the second time that evening, Snape was taken back by Harry's words.
He let a pause hang in the air as he watched the young wizard intently, thinking of how he wanted to handle his response.
Harry felt awkward for asking, but he was being sincere. Afterall, he had thought about it for days and figured now would be the time to finally just ask.
Harry moved up and turned on the sink's spigot, letting the cool water envelope the rag.
Snape hummed low, finally saying, "'Like' is a gravely inaccurate way of phrasing my sentiments towards discipline, Potter."
Harry sighed and shrugged, walking back to the tabletop and letting the wet rag plop down on the sleek surface.
"Seems accurate from my point of view." Harry mumbled.
His tone was light and tinged with embarrassment, but he knew that Snape would take the bait for a longer chat if he was a little perturbed.
Snape leaned back against the jet black countertop and crossed his arms.
"Your artful attempts at distraction are not escaping my notice," Snape said in his low, silky voice.
Harry kept his eyes downcast, refusing to look up and he slid the rag back and forth.
"It appears that you are simply trying to divert your attention from your impending encounter with the paddle by focusing on mine," Snape remarked with a dry tone, his eyes narrowing on Harry.
Harry swallowed, his face blushed dark red at Snape's words as he kept his eyes on the wet rag.
Enduring the physical aspect of his spankings was one thing, but discussing them with Snape opened up an entirely new realm of guttural embarrassment for Harry.
Harry licked his thin lips, letting out a little nervous chuckle.
"Yeah, you caught me Professor Snape." He said, running his fidgeting fingers over the corner of the wet rag. "I'm only asking to save my sore arse, since I know how easily you can be swayed to let me off the hook." He finished.
A subtle flicker of irritation crossed Snape's features, a warning sign to the unspoken boundary Harry had crossed.
"How very kind of you to acknowledge my lenient tendencies," Snape shot back.
Harry glanced up and gave him a little apologetic smile, Snape did not return it.
"Mercy aside, my chosen method of correction for you is hardly a matter to make light of." Snape finished, his voice low and strong.
Harry dropped his eyes from Snape's and refocused on the wet rag in his hand. He slid it slowly, back and forth across the countertop, willing his flush to recede from his face.
"Alright, I'm sorry." Harry muttered as he continued to wipe down the table.
After a moment, Snape let out a tense sigh and pulled out one of the wooden table chairs. He adjusted his trousers and sat.
"Sit down." Snape instructed, taking the rag from Harry's fidgeting hand and placing it next to him.
Harry cast Snape a dejected glance at the instruction, eyeing the wooden chair with ill-placed frustration. Why were the seats so hard?
Deciding it would be prudent not to irritate Snape further, Harry obeyed. His tender backside protested the pressure but he willed himself to sit still.
"Listen carefully to me," Snape began after a moment of tense contemplation, "I loathe your tendency to pry into matters that most would deem completely inappropriate."
Harry frowned a little, crossing his arms on the table, "I'm sorry, I–"
Snape cut him off effectively with a raised hand.
"I'm not through." He said, leveling Harry with a stern look. "In this case, however, I understand why you may feel a desire to understand my history."
Harry's brows shot up, surprised by the shift.
"You have opted to submit to an unconventional method of discipline at the hands of your least favorite professor. Given that, you are entitled to an explanation of where this form of correction began in my life and why I have chosen to apply it in yours," Snape concluded, interlacing his fingers
Harry was stunned; moments ago, he was certain Snape would punish him for pushing further, especially after Snape had indicated they were done with the conversation.
"Well, thanks." Harry said, his voice conveying the solace he felt. "And you're not my least favorite… anymore." He added for good measure.
Snape gave a little eye roll, "Flattery won't keep you from your evening punishment, Potter." He quipped, dismissing the belief that Harry meant that.
"I know." Harry said, a bit of attitude seeping into his words. Why couldn't Snape ever believe him?
Snape leveled him with a pointed look, "Ask me what you wish to close out this matter on your end. Ensure you proceed in a mature manner, young man."
Harry nodded, uncrossing his arms and folding his hands in his lap. He took a small little breath, forcing away his discomfort.
"How did Dumbledore and Slughorn's punishments make you want to change after the duel?" Harry asked, steering the conversation back to his original, unanswered question as he glanced up at Snape.
Snape looked up at the ceiling, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Completely hidden from his stern expression, a well of emotions sat churning in his chest. Waves of trepidation, grief, and even buried affection licked up like little splashes against the walls.
Snape hummed low, shifting ever so slightly in his chair, "I suppose it was their approach to the punishments that initially shifted my perspective."
Harry nodded, waiting for Snape to continue.
"Instead of descending upon me with the fury I undoubtedly warranted, they opted for individual discussions to understand my motives for casting the curse," Snape remarked, his gaze momentarily averted from Harry.
Harry took a little breath, focused intently on Snape's face. His eyes traversed the man's deep lines and cold features.
Snape looked back to Harry.
"Prior to those discussions, I hadn't felt remorse in the slightest. However, after their stern lectures and line of effective questioning, I began to understand the gravity of my actions." Snape said, taking a deep breath that didn't escape Harry's watchful eye.
"So you didn't feel bad at all after you left the duel?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"Not in the slightest," Snape said, his tone carrying a small hint of the dismay he felt towards his teenage self.
Harry nodded, holding back his urge to dive into all the reasons why that was the case.
Snape shifted his interlaced fingers some and cleared his throat.
"Then," he uttered with deliberate slowness, "once the gravity of my transgression became unmistakably clear, they, in turn, bent me over their desks, and applied separate lessons with the wooden paddle." Snape concluded, his tone carrying the weight of the formidable experience.
Harry swallowed, he wasn't sure why exactly, but his face flushed red at Snape's private admission. He glanced down at his lap, nodding as he fidgeted his now clammy hands.
Snape watched Harry with a contemplated mix of emotions, he wasn't sure why the young wizard seemed to feel ashamed at hearing of his discipline. After all, James Potter and his lot of friends would have relished the opportunity to hear of his punishments, yet Harry seemed to be… distressed by it.
"I might add," Snape said after a moment of heavy silence, "both Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Slughorn, ensured I felt my emotions to the fullest extent."
Harry glanced up, his blush receding some.
"Did— did you cry?" Harry asked softly, understanding how private this admission was for someone as cold and emotionless as Snape.
Snape sighed, a mix of weariness and resignation etched on his features. His response carried the weight of a man who had grappled with his past and was now laying it bare.
"Yes, I cried." Snape finally admitted, his gaze fixed on a point in the distance. "They ensured so."
Harry's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and empathy evident in his expression.
"They each firmly impressed upon me the gravity of my choices," Snape continued, his voice low and measured. "Their determination forced me to confront the depth of my actions and subsequently, I experienced a surge of remorse."
As Harry processed Snape's revelation, Snape's gaze met him with a hint of resolve, ready to move forward from the conversation.
"There now, you have your answer. Are you quite satisfied with the provided details of my past?" Snape asked, his words punctuated with a raised eyebrow as he buried his sentimental feelings that threatened to devour him.
"Well, it helps me understand," Harry retorted, as he crossed his arms, "I still have a few more questions though."
"Of course you do." Snape sniped, he folded his own arms across his chest and leveled Harry with an intense look that urged him to continue.
Harry swallowed, maybe he shouldn't ask.
Then after a second of thought he grew braver, ready to defend himself if needed. Snape did this to him this morning, why shouldn't he ask?
"Did they… uh…" His nerve faltered slightly as dropped his eyes again from Snape's, glancing around the dimly lit kitchen.
There was a slight pause that lingered in the dark kitchen, the scent of lavender permeated the silence with a soothing comfort that contrasted the uncomfortable energy ricocheting off the walls.
"Did they what, Harry?" Snape asked, his tone terrifyingly low. "Be specific and stop drifting off mid inquiry, this conversation is painstakingly long as is."
Harry sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to meet Snape's intense gaze.
"Did they spank, I mean, um, paddle you, without your trousers on?" The furious blush was back and Harry had to glance away again.
Snape leveled Harry with an exasperated expression, "Well, now, how about you apply your famous deductive reasoning here? What might you conclude?" He challenged, forcing Harry to look back up.
"Well, I-I don't know!" Harry said, lifting his hand up defensively, "that's why I'm asking."
"Do not get cheeky." Snape snapped, causing Harry's shy, embarrassed demeanor to shift more into a defensive, and frustrated one.
Snape decided not to goad the boy into an argument, realizing he was personally becoming defensive over the nature of their conversation rather than Harry's normal, yet intrusive, questions.
"Yes," Snape relented, forcing himself to finish the question to its fullest extent to avoid more prodding, "I removed my robes, trousers and pants, as did every student for the paddle."
Harry hesitated for a moment, the weight of the revelation settling on him. He bit his lip, contemplating his next question.
"So, um," Harry paused, choosing his next words carefully, his embarrassment evident. "Was that pretty awful?"
Snape's eyes narrowed, the resistance in his gaze not subsiding.
"It was a method of reinforcing vulnerability and humility, Potter. It was far from enjoyable, yet it served as a stark reminder of the consequences of my actions," Snape stated firmly.
Harry nodded, absorbing the information. Despite the awkwardness of the conversation, his curiosity itched.
"Did they... hurt bad?" Harry asked tentatively, almost afraid of the answer.
Snape's expression remained stoic, but a flicker of something undetectable to Harry passed through his eyes.
"Pain is subjective; what may be unbearable for one person may be manageable for another. What matters is I learned a much needed lesson." Snape replied.
Harry winced at the word 'unbearable'.
"So they each hurt pretty bad then?" Harry pressed to know.
Snape could have lied; he was more than tempted to do so as this conversation had pushed him far past an intolerable level of vulnerability. Yet, for Harry's benefit and his own, he chose to press forward in rare honesty.
A brief pause hung in the air before Snape finally conceded, "Yes, Harry, they hurt badly." Snape admitted, "I was sore, and uncomfortable, but I survived. As will you."
The revelation left Harry silent for a moment. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, contemplating the vulnerability Snape had just exposed. The next question lingered on his tongue, aching to be asked, but the tension in the room made it difficult for him to voice it.
Snape took a tense little breath and pinched his eyes shut, bringing his potion stained fingers up to squeeze the bridge of his large nose.
"Out with your next question, Potter," Snape commanded, refocusing on Harry. "I might as well be watching you squirm under the Cruciatus curse with an unanswered inquiry lingering."
Harry glanced up at Snape and couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. The unexpected quip lightening the tension permeating the room.
"I'm not that bad," Harry defended, leaning on the table with his elbows pressed down, closing a bit of space between himself and Snape.
To Harry's surprise, Snape leaned in too, his fingers relacing.
"I beg to differ," Snape said low and slow, making Harry grin a little.
"Alright," Harry said, glancing down at his hands. "Don't you have any firewhisky or something to make this conversation less awkward?"
Snape raised his brow high at the request, "Certainly you are not asking me for alcohol after your punishment this morning, Potter." Snape said in a tone that nearly mirrored his astonishment at Harry's nerve.
"Okay, well, no," Harry swallowed, "I shouldn't have said that. I just meant, do you have anything I could take to get through these questions without dying of embarrassment?" He finished, glancing at the table.
"Your dramatics have no end, do they?" Snape snipped, rolling his eyes. "Suffice to say, no, I do not possess anything that would remove the discomfort accompanied by this conversation."
Harry nodded, sucking in a deep breath to refocus.
"And if I did, Potter," Snape finished low and quiet, "I would have taken it myself."
Harry gave a small smile, well at least he wasn't alone in his suffering. Though Snape hardly seemed as uncomfortable as he did.
"Okay, fine," Harry said, jumping into his next sentence like a plunge in cold water.
"Why do I have to be held over your…um," Harry swallowed hard and licked his lips, "knees or lap, for smacks? I'd rather bend over something." He finished, forcing himself not to look away this time.
Snape raised both his brows and leveled Harry with an unmissable look, "You gave yourself a hands on demonstration of why being secured during punishment is necessary, this very morning."
Harry frowned, his ears burned bright pink as he shifted in his chair.
"I-I uh, well, sorry actually," he said quietly, "but I could do better if you'd let me."
Snape shook his head, "No, you'll remain over my knee for spankings."
Harry moaned a little, shifting again, "Why though? Can't I try bending over something— just for tonight?"
"You can not," Snape said firmly, "I've disciplined students over my knee for fourteen years, I will not be tailoring my method of correction to please your discomfort."
Harry sighed, and he leaned back in his chair, "But you were bent over a desk, why can't I be?"
Snape's dark eyes narrowed at Harry's sharpened tone.
"Mind your tone, Potter, or we will finish this conversation now and retire to your room to complete your punishment early." Snape threatened, infusing his words with the authority he held.
Harry swallowed, swaying his leg a little. "No, please um, I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking up at Snape with his somber green eyes.
Snape sighed audibly and moved his interlaced fingers to his lap, "I've merely relayed one story to you regarding this matter. For your painfully persistent information, I've been draped over knees far more often than bent over desks for discipline."
Damn, Harry thought to himself, there went his leg to stand on. He wondered if Snape was inferring back to Dumbledore and Slughorn.
"Who spanked you over the knee?" Harry pressed, now more curious than ever.
"Any Professor I offended when I was a boy, Potter." Snape sniped, "Back then, discipline was not reserved for simply the Head of House, but everyone who held an ounce of authority on the grounds."
Harry dropped his mouth open a little in surprise.
"My penchant for disregarding authority wasn't limited to a particular individual's knees." Snape chided slightly, emphasizing the widespread nature of his disciplinary experiences.
"Even the, uh, girl teachers did that?" Harry asked, astonished.
Snape gave a wry little smile, "Indeed, unlike you I did not receive the same leniency from Professor McGonagall when I misbehaved."
Harry gasped, his eyes wide with shock. "McGonagall?! You're bloody joking!"
Snape moved to correct Harry for the quip but a soft knock at the front door interrupted them, reverberating throughout the entryway of the home, drawing their attention away from one another.
After a brief, silent pause, Snape let out an audible, exhausted sigh and moved toward the front door.
Harry stood to follow but was halted when Snape turned back and held up a hand, silently motioning for Harry to sit back down.
Harry grimaced and sat, a mix of trepidation and curiosity churning in his stomach.
Harry's sense of unease grew as it seemed to take Snape years to click-clack his way to the heavy, wooden front door.
Snape pulled his hand up to the door knob, sighing even louder when he caught sight of the unsuspected visitor through the peephole. He briefly thought about sending Harry up to his room, but decided it would take too long to accomplish.
Pulling open the heavy wooden door Snape gave the visitor a deep frown, "How lovely of you to drop by, unannounced, at this hour," he sneered.
His tone was impeccably sharp, and Harry almost winced for whoever was on the receiving end of it.
Leaning over in his chair, he tried to crane around Snape's tall figure to see who was at the door, but Snape, with his broad shoulders, effectively blocked Harry's view.
Harry didn't need to wonder for long though, his blood running instantly cold when he heard the familiar voice say,
"Pardon me, Severus, but I'm in a rather delicate situation and your assistance would be greatly appreciated."
Author's notes: Happy Sunday! Thank you to everyone who has been following along with this story. I can't wait to explore this new development with you all in the weeks to come. Since I'm in America and celebrating Thanksgiving this year, my travel plans may impact my ability to update next Sunday (though I will try my best!).
Thank you, Hamlet, for your in depth review on the plot, I appreciate your dedication to this story! Though you are never obligated to leave a comment, I appreciate it so much when you do. Goldflame01, thank you for taking the time to leave a review! It's wonderful to hear you've been following along with the story since the beginning. I'm touched! I was also a silent reader/follower for many years for some of my fav stories and I'm delighted to know you look forward to updates.
Much love to you and yours all, have a fantastic week!
