[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.

Author's notes: regarding the setting for this fic, please see the introductory notes at the beginning of chapter 1.

Chapter 30: Storm Breaks and Mistakes

Effulgent beams of welcome sunlight flooded the wet streets of Silent Hollow, peeking their way through the cracks of the gray storm clouds. Mid-morning serenity blanketed Snape's quiet residence with only the occasional sound of a page turning, breaking the still atmosphere.

His hoard of suspicion over Harry's jumpy behavior had somewhat retreated when he returned home last night to find Ron Weasley gone, and his house perfectly in order. To his amusement, there was even a warming charm left on the remaining serving of stew from the evening meal, accompanied by a note from Harry:

Turned in early– kept this warm in case the Malfoy's horribly expensive food wasn't up to your humble homemaker standards. Or if they didn't offer you anything to eat. Which y'know, seems likely.

Goodnight.

A faint smirk drew up the corner of Snape's lips as he folded the note and stashed the stew in the refrigerator, moving to commence with his evening routine.

Though he scolded himself for it, he later decided to check on Harry before retreating to bed. He'd only meant to glance in, ensuring the cheeky teen was in fact in bed, but paused in the doorway when he felt the horrid chill wrapping around the room. Harry's bare shoulder caught his attention in the pale blue light, prompting him to sweep his dark eyes into a roll and sigh. Of course, the boy had gone to bed shirtless in the freezing cold. How utterly ridiculous, Snape thought as he strode over to pull the covers up. He'd paused again when he noticed Harry's glasses still resting on his face. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to take them off. Irresponsible child, Snape internally chastised as he did so. He pulled the covers up and over Harry's exposed skin to ensure he was shielded from the biting chill, then lit a warm fire and strode out of the room. It was the practical thing to do, at least that's what he told himself.

Now, sitting on the sofa with solitude as his only companion, Snape turned to the next page in his newly purchased text on adolescent development—a book he'd been casually perusing over the past few weeks. As he delved into the psychological motives for teenage behavior outlined in the book, pausing every so often to roll his eyes and shake his head, he silently considered the remainder of his day and the responsibilities at hand.


In the upper quadrant of the house, Harry fumbled through a slew of cotton and denim in search of a long sleeve shirt. As his fingers brushed against the soft fabrics resting in his top drawer, the side of his thumb grazed against the cold leather of the strap, sending a river of nerves down to his rolling stomach. With a deep breath, he withdrew his chosen clothes for the day, steadying himself for the confession he knew he had to make.

It's better to just get it over with, he reasoned, sliding a weary hand through his ruffled hair.

Perhaps Snape would let Ron keep the potions, or at least permit him to make some replacement draughts if he could just phrase this whole rubbish thing right.

After a night of restlessness, Harry had risen with the decision to apologize before Snape inevitably found out. At least then he could take ownership and swear up and down that none of this came from a place of malice. He hadn't even wanted to take them, not really. But, it was Ron, and Ron needed some help—some good sleep. Snape would probably understand… maybe… or not.

Definitely not.

"Ah, bloody hell," Harry muttered to himself, his breath hitching as he tugged on his clothes, the cool fabric falling gently against his skin.

With a resigned sigh, he straightened his shoulders, and made his way across the warm boards of his cedar floor. As he reached for the doorknob, his hand paused, hesitating for a moment before finally turning it with determined resolve.

Right, let's just get it over with.


"Hi, er, good morning." Harry said, crossing one arm over to grip the other and glancing down at Snape. "Can I talk to you?"

A small silence lingered in the hushed living room for a moment as the next page of Snape's book flipped over smoothly.

"Yes, it appears you can," Snape replied in his typical dry tone, his dark eyes lifting from the text in his palms to meet Harry's gaze. "As you so clearly just did. How relieving."

He was sitting on the Russian green couch, his posture relaxed as he assessed Harry's fidgeting form now standing in front of him.

Harry sucked in a short breath and glanced away, his nerve wavering. Snape raised a brow, closing his book slowly. He'd expected Harry to bite back with something sarcastic, but the clear discomfort radiating off the boy was unnerving.

"I presume something is troubling you." Snape noted after a moment of tense silence, his eyes traversing down to Harry's hand now fidgeting with the fabric of his long sleeve shirt.

"I…" Harry paused, meeting Snape's dark gaze. "Just listen to me, let me get everything out before you go mental, yeah?"

Snape's other brow went up, his lips pursing into a tight line.

Well, here we are, how utterly unsurprising. 'Saint Potter' has done something.

"Very well," Snape interlaced his fingers and rested them on top of his book. "What abhorrent behavior did you get up to that will surely cause me to take leave of my senses?"

Harry ran his hand up through his shaggy dark hair and swallowed, his stomach coiling into tight knots. He'd been up for hours practicing how to say his piece in a way that wouldn't send Snape flying off the handle but looking down into those dark eyes had his resolve cracking.

I'm done for. He's going to lose his mind, damnit.

"Young man, enough with this unnecessary," Snape paused, a sudden movement outside the window diverted his attention.

Before he could fully register the motion, the sound of hurried footsteps clamored up the porch. And not a moment later, Molly Weasley's frantic voice rang out from the front doorstep.

"Severus!"

A slew of loud knocks followed.

Snape's penetrating gaze narrowed as he glanced briefly at the door, then back at Harry, who now appeared thoroughly panicked.

"A fast assessment tells me the Weasleys are involved in whatever you were about to relay." Snape said sharply, shifting from his spot on the couch.

"Fuck." Harry breathed, turning instantly to head for the door. Her anxious call had sent a wave of ice through his veins.

Merlin, Ron what did you do? What happened? Harry's breath hitched; his heart thumping hard.

As he fumbled and unlatched the lock, the front door suddenly flew open with a force that nearly knocked him off balance. Before he could react, Mrs. Weasley stormed into the entryway, her hair a brilliant red mess and her wand held firmly in hand.

"Why, why isn't he waking up?"

She swept past Harry in a flurry, directing her attention to a clearly perplexed Snape.

With her wand clutched tightly in her hand, Mrs. Weasley huffed out a shaky breath, searching Snape's eyes with an urgency Harry hadn't seen since the final battle.

"Molly, just what–"

"What happened?" Harry interrupted, rushing over to the pair. "What do you mean he's not waking up?"

Mrs. Weasley spared Harry a brief glance but silenced him with a raised finger.

"Tell me right now, Severus. This is not—"

"Just a moment," Snape held his hand up, casting her a confounded glare. "What precisely are you talking about? Your son isn't waking up?"

"Yes, yes, Ron. He's completely unconscious!"

Mrs. Weasley reached into the pocket of her floral dress, withdrawing the empty potion vial.

The color drained from Harry's face watching Snape's glittering black eyes narrow on the glass tube then shift sharply to him.

"I found it by his pillow, next to his hand– as if he'd taken it then simply collapsed. What kind of bloody sleeping potion prevents a person from waking up?"

Snape snatched the vial from her, turning it to the side and surveying it intensely as Harry stepped in closer.

Molly smoothed out the front of her dress and drew in a steady breath. "When I said—"

"Snape didn't give it to Ron, I did." Harry admitted quickly, "We thought they were sleeping draughts, they looked, I-I mean they smelled—"

"Where is this from?" Snape's cold tone cut through the air, his black stare locking on Harry with a chilling intensity.

Mrs. Weasley spun around, her attention to Harry with a growing alarm.

"Your potions storage." Harry blurted, "Why isn't Ron–"

"Where in my store did you locate it?"

"In a brown box, behind–"

Harry felt his stomach bottom out when Snape swore under his breath and turned sharply on his heel. He was moving to the back door in a near run, with Mrs. Weasley and Harry now hurrying to catch up.

"Snape what was it?" Harry yelled after him, nearly slipping in the mud after shoving through the back door.

"Severus!" Mrs. Weasley called out, matching Harry's hurried pace.

Snape reached the potions storage first, forcing his heart rate to climb down as he navigated through a slew of ingredients in the dark space. Following the close of the war, not much sent him running when inevitable trouble arose. Yet now, with a growing fear that one of his lethal concoctions might very well rob Authur and Molly of their son, he was pulled far from his typical composed state. His fingertips rummaged through a slew of clinking vials, rushing to locate the antidote.

Mrs. Weasley ran through the doorway seconds later, with Harry closely behind.

Snape swiftly collected an iridescent vial from the lower shelf, then snatched a small bag and tossed it onto the large wooden table with a snap.

"Potter, grab a bezoar from the jar to the right of you." Snape commanded without looking up, adding a few rare herbs to his bag. "We shall try it if the antidote fails."

Despite the sick panic flowing through every inch of Harry's skin, he moved fast to comply.

"Heavens above," Mrs. Weasley uttered, pressing her hand to her chest, trying to regain composure amidst her own growing fear. "What did he take?"

"Something he shouldn't have even touched."

Snape soon snatched the stone from Harry's open palm and dropped it into the black bag along with the antidote.

"Come," he said, motioning to Mrs. Weasley as he cinched it shut. He shoved the bag into Harry's hands.

The moment Mrs. Weasley drew up to his side, Snape grabbed her arm and Harry's too. Then in an instant, the trio Apparated, disappearing from sight with a loud crack.


Ron looked lifeless, his body still and pale, sprawled out in the mess of sheets blanketing his bed. Mrs. Weasley clutched Harry close to her side, holding her breath as Snape snatched the bag from him and rummaged through it.

He collected the antidote out and bent forward over Ron's unconscious form, his expression grave as he held the iridescent vial in the flickering candlelight. With a flick of his thumb, he uncorked the glass.

His deep voice filled the air as he muttered a hushed incantation and slid his wand over the shimmering liquid. A soft, ghost-like mist climbed up, pouring forth from the rim of the glass. With steady precision, Snape directed the flowing vapor to Ron's dry lips. One wave sent the antidote curling around his parted mouth before dragging down his throat in a delicate sweep. Snape continued the murmured incantation, the tip of his wand glowing as he trailed it from Ron's chest to his abdomen.

Mrs. Weasley's grip on Harry tightened as they watched anxiously, sick with concern. Harry's gaze flickered between Ron's still form and Snape's focused movements, silently willing the antidote to work.

Fucking hell, wake up, please wake up.

After what felt like an eternity, Snape lowered his wand and pressed his potion-stained fingers to the side of Ron's cool neck, searching for his pulse. Following a breathless moment, relief flooded Snape's body as the weak heartbeat beneath his fingertips began to grow stronger. A warm flush returned to Ron's freckled cheeks, his breathing evening out with the natural rise and fall of his chest.

"The antidote appears to have taken effect," Snape said with a breath of reassurance, motioning for Mrs. Weasley to take his spot by the side of the bed. "He should wake soon and regain full mental capacity, provided his body continues to respond accordingly."

"Thank Merlin," Mrs. Weasley breathed, her voice cracking.

She gave Harry's shoulder a tight squeeze then moved to take the vacant place beside Ron. Kneeling down, she brought her hand up to his temple, sweeping the red patch of messy hair away from his brow.

Harry let out a held, shaky breath. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited, silently willing Ron to wake up.

After a long moment of utter silence, with only the dripping candle on the nightstand sounding in the small room, Ron began to stir.

Snape and Harry released a simultaneous breath, listening to Mrs. Weasley's mutterings.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, reaching down to clasp his hand. "Up you get, dear. Time to wake up."

She patted his hand a few times, her expression glazing over with relief.

"Mum?" Ron muttered, his eyes soon dragging open.

His body felt like lead, his arms heavy and his mind hazy. He began to shift but paused, catching sight of Snape looming beside his mother and Harry staring wide-eyed at the foot of his bed.

"Wh-what are the lot of you doing here?" Ron slowly croaked out, confused.

"We are here, Mr. Weasley, because you very nearly were not."

Snape's stern voice cut through the room as he withdrew the stolen vial Mrs. Weasley had given him earlier, holding it up in the flickering candlelight.

Ron caught sight of the glinting glass in Snape's potion-stained palm, feeling a hazy wave of realization wash over him. He sucked in a tight breath to say something but was instantly cut off by his mother, now smothering him in a suffocating hug.

"Ronald Weasley, you scared me to death! Thank heavens you're alright."

Trying to pull back, Ron's strained 'Mum,' could hardly be heard as his face was smashed in the warm fabric of Molly's dress.

"Bloody hell, Ron." Harry exhaled sharply, leaning over to grab his friend's leg and give it a light shove.

Finally, after a long moment of smothering Ron with maternal affection, Mrs. Weasley released him and stood up to face Snape.

"Oh, Severus. Thank you."

She then tugged him into a hug against his slight resistance.

"Yes, well," Snape said, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and lingering tension, "we are fortunate you noticed his state when you did."

After returning the embrace as best he could, Snape gently disentangled himself from Mrs. Weasley's arms, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves with a slight air of discomfort.

"How are you feeling?" He asked Ron, stepping closer to have a better look at him.

"Er, um… like my arms and legs weigh a load of galleons."

Snape nodded, "Your muscles will need some time to recover from the paralysis. Any pain?"

Ron's heavy eyelids widened a little, but he shook his head.

Paralysis?

"No, just feel a bit… foggy."

"That is to be expected." Snape stated in a dry, cold voice. "You're exceptionally lucky to be alive."

Ron glanced from Snape to his mother, the revived color in his face fading some. Harry sucked in a small breath and glanced at the veiling, knowing all fury was about to reign down on them. And he was right, though it didn't come from who he expected.

Mrs. Weasley pulled her hands up to her hips, took a small step forward and unleashed a scolding that rivaled any of the others Harry had ever witnessed.

The boys winced under the admonishment, heads tucking down in shameful discomfort. Snape's dark tunnels for eyes shifted between them, neither teenager daring to meet his gaze.

Finishing off strong, Mrs. Weasley's stern and final remark cut through the tense air sharply.

"Honestly, of all the idiotic, ridiculous ideas! You nearly died, Ronald Weasley. After all we've been through as a world— as family, how could you? Just what on earth were you thinking?!"

Ron glanced away from her, shifting uncomfortably in the covers. He looked up at Harry for a brief moment before Mrs. Weasley spoke again.

"Do not look at Harry, look at me. Explain yourself this instant."

"Sorry." Ron licked his cracked lips and shifted, "Your herbs weren't working, mum. I just… I couldn't…"

"He couldn't sleep, Mrs. Weasley." Harry finished, "It's not—"

Harry snapped his mouth shut when Snape crossed the three steps between them and inclined his head down. His voice came out in a low, icy whisper.

"Silence, he shall speak for himself."

"Right," Harry muttered, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Sorry."

"You don't know the meaning of the word yet, Potter." Snape threatened in an even quieter tone, bringing an instant flush to Harry's face.

Ron swallowed, unnerved by the deep look of shame washing over Harry.

"Look, it's my fault, Professor Snape." He interjected, forcing himself to meet the terrifyingly stern gaze.

Harry felt horrible as he glanced between them, hating the way Ron now had to defend himself after nearly dying. His nerve quickly outgrew his embarrassment when he listened to the undeserved defense of his actions.

"I asked Harry to get them for me. He tried to convince me to ask you, even offered to ask you himself but I said—"

"Ron, no, really, it was," Harry stopped abruptly when Snape turned back toward him. The suddenness of his movement catching his words in his throat. Snape's strong hand closed around his bicep and pulled him in close.

"If I have to tell you not to speak again," Snape whispered, his lips only centimeters from Harry's ear. "I'll escort you to another room and deal with your obedience there. Be quiet."

"Yes, sir." Harry muttered, a crimson flush warming the tip of his ears to the base of his neck.

Snape released his arm then turned back to the bed. His exceptionally low tone had kept the others from hearing the threat, but the look of sheer embarrassment blanketing Harry's face was painfully clear.

"This is all my fault," Ron added, "don't blame Harry, he just wanted to help me get some rest."

Snape hummed low, keeping a disciplinary stare on Ron for a moment before speaking.

"I'm far less interested in who instigated this but would rather like to know why the two of you nitwits disregarded the label on the inner roof of the box."

"There was a label?" Harry muttered, stunned.

He hadn't seen a bloody label, but it was dark in there. He wasn't even sure if he'd fully opened the box, just slid the tubes out when he saw them. There was no label on the front at least. Why was it on the inner roof?

Snape clenched his jaw and leveled Harry with a look so sharp it could cut glass.

"Of course there was," he hissed. "There is always a fucking label."

Ron and Harry's eyes both widened at the unfamiliar curse on Snape's lips. Molly glanced over at him, her own frustration with the boys growing hot. How could they do such a foolish thing?

Snape turned to Ron, shooting a hard look down.

"Well, what did it say?" Ron asked, tentatively. "The label, I mean, what did I take?"

Barely containing his temper, Snape pressed his thumb into his palm, taking a slow breath before speaking.

"You consumed a potentially lethal dose of a potion meant for war, Weasley. It mimics the appearance and initial effects of a sleeping potion, but after a set amount of time, shuts down your nervous system. Had we been an hour later, recovery might have been out of the question. Even with the antidote," Snape's gaze bore into Ron's, "there were no guarantees."

Ron's mouth fell open and he couldn't help himself from saying, "Bloody hell. What are you doing holding on to a potion like that for anyhow?"

"Oh don't you dare be disrespectful to him, Ronald." Mrs. Weasley cut in, her face growing hot with frustration. "Did you not hear a word of what he just said? Recovery might have been out of the question!"

"Sorry." Ron muttered, glancing down at his lead-like arm.

"You shall remain in bed for the rest of the day. No strenuous activities or heavy meals." Snape instructed, his tone low and laced with frustration. "Keep yourself calm and try to rest, if you feel any pain or discomfort, notify someone immediately and I will return."

"Right," Ron said, contrite again. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. Thank you for coming and saving me."

Snape responded with a small nod and turned.

"Molly, if I may have a private word."

"Yes, yes. Of course," Mrs. Weasley replied, motioning for Snape to follow her downstairs.

Harry spared a glance at Snape but didn't catch his eye. He then looked over at Ron who had flopped back on his pillow with a groan.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asked when they'd left, moving to sit next to him by the top of the bed.

"Just brilliant." Ron muttered, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. "What kind of rubbish luck do I have? A fucking war potion, Harry? Only me. This shit only happens to a decent natured bloke like me."

The dark circles had faded some, but Ron's face looked a brighter white than usual, his skin almost shining.

Harry sighed and interlaced his fingers, bringing them down to his lap. He couldn't believe it either, he thought he was in trouble before, but now? Now he was utterly screwed.

"Yeah, some luck," Harry muttered. "Sorry about this."

"You've got nothin to be sorry for." Ron forced himself to sit up even though his body felt like a sack of heavy rocks. "I'm the one who ought to be beggin your forgiveness. I put you up to it."

"I could've said no."

"What? To a charming bloke like me?" Ron teased, "Not likely."

Harry rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his tangled hair.

"You want some water or something? Y'know since you're back from the brink of death."

"Not really thirsty," Ron shrugged. "You okay? Snape looked fit to take you out to the chopping block for this one."

Harry let out an anxious laugh, standing up to stretch. He felt a wave of nerves splinter through his stomach, jolting up to his chest. He decided not to get into just how not 'okay' he really was.

"I'm getting you water," he announced, wiping his sweaty hands off on his trousers. "I want to know what they're talking about down there anyway."

Harry turned and gave Ron a halfhearted smirk which he returned.

"You're mental." Ron whispered as Harry crept towards the stairs, "Wait."

"What?"

"I think Mum's made cinnamon rolls." Ron took a deep sniff, "Yeah. Snag me one of them, why don't ya? Get one for you too."

Harry suppressed a snort, only Ron would feel like eating after being bloody paralyzed, but he nodded anyway before creaking softly down the stairs.


With a small portion of a cinnamon roll in one hand and a glass of water in the other, Harry was about to step back upstairs when the front door creaked open. Mrs. Weasley was facing Snape, but now the silencing charm had been lifted and he could hear her voice clear.

"Yes, Minerva set up the floo network for us too. I'll certainly fetch you if he shows any signs."

Harry froze in place. Fetch you? He thought, Snape's going to see McGonagall?

"Very well," He heard Snape reply, "do not trouble yourself. He should make a full recovery."

"Thank you so much. I don't know how to repay you for this."

Harry watched her take a step forward, knowing she was likely giving Snape's hand a squeeze. Or maybe attempting another lethal hug in his former professor's eyes.

Sighing, Harry pursed his lips. As the crack of Snape Apparating echoed from the porch, a slam of rejection replaced the trickle of nerves circling through every corner of Harry's body.

Well, that's it I guess.

"Harry, dear."

He froze in place on the stairs as Mrs. Weasley called after him, having barely made it there before she entered.

"Will you come here a moment?"

Harry complied, setting Ron's partial cinnamon roll and glass of water down on the table, and moving to meet her at the door.

"I didn't know, er, well, I didn't mean to," Harry began but was cut off by the warm hug that enveloped him.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry I got so cross with you. I know you were only trying to help." She held him tightly, giving a small kiss to the top of his ruffled hair. "Dangerous as it was, your intentions were honest."

Harry's shoulders sagged as he folded into her embrace. They stayed like that for a moment, soaking in some comfort after such a harrowing morning.

"I feel horrible that it happened." Harry sighed, his arms loosening their hold around Mrs. Weasley. "Snape's left for Hogwarts, then?"

"Yes, said he's got some business to take care of with the Headmistress." She confirmed, giving him a tighter squeeze.

Harry tried to return the warm smile as Mrs. Weasley pulled out of the embrace but struggled against the weight of it all.

Snape was going to tell McGonagall what he did— why else would he have taken off like that?

He's going to kick me out, Harry reasoned. Right, well, why would he want to live together anymore?

After a moment of fast contemplation, Harry decided he would make it easier on Snape. It was the least he could do after nearly killing Ron and stomping on his trust.

"I have to go." Harry said, sparing a glance to the front door.

"Oh I know I got cross, dear, but there's no need to run off." Mrs. Weasley replied, guiding him into the kitchen.

"Let's have a spot of breakfast, hm? The rest of the family will trickle in from the market soon and I'm sure Ginny would love to see you."

Harry faked a smile.

"Course, I mean I'd love to see her too. And everyone else. I just, er, have to go grab my stuff from Snape's."

"Do you?" Mrs. Weasley said, moving to make Harry a plate of bacon and eggs.

"I don't think we're going to be living together anymore," Harry admitted, his tone tinged with resignation. "Not after this."


Author's notes: Happy Sunday! I hope you all had a lovely day and enjoyed this update. :) The next chapter is written and almost ready to go, so hopefully, I should have it posted by mid-week.

Ishmeet, thank you for sharing your wonderfully kind thoughts and encouragement! I'm touched to know you love the story so much and even went as far as to share it with your friends — that's fantastic to hear! You won't have to wait a whole week for the next one & my hope is to get it out by Tuesday or Wednesday. I wish I could post more but between my college classes/partner/work, there's just not enough time! (Sadly lol). Again, your enthusiasm was very sweet. Thank you!

Hamlet, your detailed comment had me chuckling and smiling from ear to ear (as usual). You're the best! Snape certainly is a bit of a life buoy for Narcissa, isn't he? I loved how you phrased that. His care for her is genuine but guarded in this fic. He's concerned for Draco, which is the drive for his involvement, but he also possesses a degree of sympathy for Narcissa as well. I haven't read the books either, just bits and pieces to get a better sense of the characters. Narcissa wears a mask in this story, hiding much of her vulnerability and true intentions. In my mind, Snape can relate to and empathize a touch more with her after years of observing it. More to come on their relationship soon with the whole neighbors scene lol I loved reading your thoughts on Harry's POV last week too! I completely understand why you don't come over to A03 for more commentary. I can feel guilty as well after spending too much time online. Your garden and coffee time with the family sound wonderful! Thank you for all your love and feedback in my comment section- it's always a joy to read your thoughts!