[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 31: A Tense Reckoning
Minerva McGonagall was speaking casually with a magical architect on the north side of the grounds, just outside of Bell Tower. Her black pointed hat lifted softly with a small gust of the cool breeze. The tiresome week of rain had impeded some of the process for the rebuild, but now that the sun had somewhat returned, casting down rays of warmth across the shattered quadrants, she'd been able to allow some minor tasks to commence under close supervision.
She folded her hands and lifted a brow, ready to negotiate the quoted price from the architect when Severus Snape suddenly materialized into a stride, moving quickly to the entrance of the tower in front of them. McGonagall furrowed her brow, watching with a look of instant concern.
"Well that bloke's in a hurry, isn't he?" The architect noted, pulling down his parchment blueprint. "Better warn him of the slick stones there."
The man cleared his throat, pulled his free hand up to his mouth in cupped motion, and took in a breath to shout just as McGonagall cut in.
"Just a moment, Mr. Bailey." She said, reaching out to clasp his arm— positive she'd lose this man's business if he chose to yell at an exceptionally frustrated looking Snape.
"He is one of the professors here and I can assure you shouting won't be necessary. He is well aware of the weather conditions."
Though it hardly looks like it, she noted silently.
It had been over ten, perhaps even fifteen years, since she had seen Snape in muggle clothing. Clad only in a gray quarter zip and tailored trousers, he moved swiftly without his robes or travel cloak, striding across the school grounds with his fist clenched tight by his sides. The speed in which he'd strode out of sight, black hair billowing behind him, without so much as a glance at his surroundings, concerned her.
"If I may have your plans," McGonagall said, extending her palm out. "I'd like to take a look at them and perhaps next week we will discuss a suitable price."
"Works for me."
The architect gave her a quick nod, rolled up the parchment and extended it out.
"Thank you." McGonagall said, taking it. "I must take my leave now, though I do apologize for the abrupt departure."
"No trouble at all." He smiled and bid her a polite goodbye.
McGonagall sighed, smoothly sweeping the hem of her dress around the wet rubble as she made her way after Snape.
Snape stormed into the room, frustration clinging to every muscle in his body.
"Idiotic, senseless, boys." He muttered, fuming.
His agitation had only grown striding through the halls of Hogwarts and up to the Headmistress's office, where he offered the infernal new password of 'Lions-Bravery' to gain access. Finding the space empty and tidy, he turned to leave and sweep back through the corridors just as McGonagall came gliding into the room.
"Well, good morning," She said, walking over to meet him.
"It is anything but a good morning, Minerva." Snape replied, in a cold low tone.
She raised a brow.
"That doesn't sound promising. Is Harry alright?"
Snape's jaw tightened. "He won't be once I've handled this."
Understanding Snape's temperament all too well, she refrained from jumping to conclusions. Given his history with Harry, she had anticipated potential issues arising while arranging their summer accommodations. Despite her efforts to remain composed, a knot of worry tightened in her chest as she watched Snape's tense demeanor.
"Why don't you have a seat and tell me what's happened." McGonagall patted the backrest of the chair positioned in front of her desk.
She then withdrew her wand and flicked it toward her enchanted tea set resting on a black cart. In a fast swirl, the teapot squealed with bubbling water, emitting a soothing herbal aroma. Sugar cubes danced in their little glass jar while a small quart of milk appeared, ready to be poured.
Snape dragged the chair out with a grating scrape against the stone flooring as McGonagall settled herself in the one across from him. While he typically held himself with a certain poised decorum, often maintaining stark formality within the school, at that moment he didn't give a damn. He slumped into the chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, uttering a long-held sigh.
"Good heavens, Severus." McGonagall said, her pensive eyes scanning his slouched figure in the chair. "What is going on?"
"I've had my fill, Minerva," he replied after a brief pause. "I have dealt with far too much distress over people dying in the last decade. I simply refuse to continue playing the—"
"Dying?" McGonagall cut in, her hands freezing on a prepped cup of tea.
Snape leaned forward, spread his legs, propped a forearm on her desk and brought his other hand to rest on his thigh.
"I have just returned from the Weasely residence, where a pair of certain Gryffindors saw fit to take a situation into their own hands and raid my personal stores for sleeping draughts."
McGonagall let out a breath, depositing a cup of tea in front of Snape.
"I wager we're talking about Harry and Ronald."
"Indeed."
Snape drummed his fingers in hard thumps across the oak desk.
"Imagine their utter surprise this morning when they found out they'd nearly killed Weasley with a poison that neither of them should have touched, let alone ingested."
"A poison?" McGonagall reiterated, her face drawing into a tight frown.
"I had an antidote," Snape replied, his voice edged with cold fury. He paused, swallowing hard as he reflected on the terrifying ordeal.
By the grace of Merlin, he had prepared an antidote years ago, against the Dark Lord's own orders, just in case he had a chance to save the damned soul who had been slipped it in the night. Though the deadly draught had never been called upon during his time spent as a Death Eater, a fact that both relieved and haunted him, he hadn't disposed of it properly before Harry—blasted—Potter got his hands on it.
The realization crashed down on him like an icy wave, a reminder of his past entanglements with the Dark Arts and the dangerous implications of boy's actions.
"Nevertheless, it was an urgent situation." He continued, shaking his head and pushing himself up to stand. "That potion was never designed to be reversed in the first place. How we arrived in time mystifies me as it is."
"Dear me." McGonagall muttered, her expression flickering with concern.
"Of all the insolent and reckless messes those imbeciles have created, this truly rivals the best of them," Snape added, clenching his fists as he strode toward the fireplace.
She watched him for a moment, contemplating her next words.
"Yes, well," McGonagall paused, drawing a small breath. "Their actions were not only reckless but inexcusable. After everything they've been through, you'd think they would exercise far more prudence."
Snape tossed his hand up and scoffed.
"You would think." He muttered, brimming with frustration.
"How is Ronald now?" She asked, her gaze traversing over Snape's agitated posture. "Is he experiencing any ill effects?"
"His system responded well to the antidote. He will suffer some lingering fatigue and muscle weakness for the next week; but it is unlikely to cause anything more."
McGonagall sighed, the knot of unease in her chest uncoiling—a sensation she had grown accustomed to after years of dealing with Harry, Hermione, and Ron.
"Well that is quite the relief."
"Indeed." Snape replied, propping one hand on the hearth of the fireplace and the other on his hip. He crossed his back ankle over the other and glared into the blackened stone wall.
A small hush enveloped the office for a moment, broken only by the clicking of McGonagall's teaspoon against the rim of her cup.
"Shall we discuss alternatives?"
Snape raised a brow and spared her a sharp glance.
"Alternatives?"
"Yes, would you like to discuss a new living accommodation for Harry, given the gravity of his transgression?"
Another pause hung in the air as Snape glanced away and back into the fireplace.
In truth, amidst the flurry of frustration dominating his thoughts, he hadn't even entertained that idea.
"I have no intention of withdrawing my agreement," he soon retorted, his tone clipped and unyielding. "Potter's presence in my home is not contingent upon his recent recklessness. Foolish as it was."
The smallest of smiles drew up McGonagall's thin lips.
Snape rolled his eyes, straightened his posture and strode over to the chair in front of her desk. Somehow the question seemed to steady him, taking the slightest edge off his anger.
"I certainly can't send him out into the world with such a minuscule capacity for common sense. When you accosted me with this obligation, I had no idea I'd be walking into an abyss of such utter brainlessness."
McGonagall shot Snape a knowing look, to which he promptly ignored as he took a composed seat this time. His lack of insistence or desire for Harry to find a new home spoke volumes to her, despite his outwardly begrudging attitude towards the situation. However, she chose to let the sentiment pass and focus on the important matter at hand.
"How familiar this is," McGonagall sighed, pushing Snape's teacup forward a bit. "Not even two months out of the war and you're already here to regale me with the crimes of Harry Potter."
Snape snorted, reaching for the tea. He glanced over at the sugar cubes, a fleeting reminder of Harry, and pursed his lips, his frustration slowly melting into a culmination of disappointment and dread.
"This time however," she continued with a hint of dry humor, "you needn't bother with your usual critiques of my disciplinary approach. Quite a relief, isn't it?"
Snape meant to reply, something sarcastic and short, but the words weren't there. Despite his efforts to distance himself emotionally, he couldn't shake the mounting dread that lingered beneath the surface of his cool detachment. It was a familiar sensation, one that had become all too common while imposing discipline on Lily's son in the aftermath of the war.
"I trust you'll administer an appropriately severe punishment to Harry. That ought to sort things out."
McGonagall stirred her tea, waiting patiently for Snape's response.
She had learned a thing or two about human behavior and discipline over the years. No matter how many times Snape had lambasted her over her 'lenient' way of handling rule-breaking, she knew there would likely come a time in his life where he experienced the toll of meting out corporal punishment. It came as no surprise to her that, within a month of dealing with Harry, Snape was ready to have the conversation she knew they'd eventually broach
"Yes, well, speaking of which…" Snape glanced down, dark eyes flitting across the tea set. "If I'm not imposing upon your other responsibilities for the day, perhaps I could speak with you about something I had planned to address next week."
"Certainly." McGonagall motioned to the blueprints on her desk. "You've merely spared me from a morning of haggling with the architect over astronomic prices."
Snape looked over at the rolled parchment and tapped his finger in slow beats across the desk.
This would be a challenge to discuss — he wasn't fond of emotional conversations in general, and part of his admission would prove her right on a point he'd argued for years: discipline does not require sympathy. However, with an unanticipated, looming consequence to dole out to Harry, he decided to navigate his concerns in a way that still protected his walled-off basin of vulnerability and pride, if at all possible.
"Glad my simmering temper could be of service to you." Snape replied, interlacing his fingers.
McGonagall nodded, giving him an expectant look.
"You issued corporal punishment to students for years," he began, pausing to clear his throat. "After our past conversations, I gather you stopped due to some sort of toll, correct?"
She wanted to smile, truly. How delightful it was to know a certain heroic someone had finally cracked the stone wall Severus Snape had kept up for nearly twenty years.
"That certainly played a part in my decision." She admitted, smirking the tiniest bit. "Also at my age, I hardly wanted to toss my arm out with a paddle anymore."
"I see," Snape leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Did you experience an… emotional strain, beforehand, or perhaps even during, punishments?"
McGonagall sipped her tea and then straightened the little silver spoon resting by the saucer.
"Perhaps you could explain what you mean by 'emotional strain'. What has been troubling you while disciplining Harry?"
Snape scowled at her. "Objectively speaking–"
"Come now, Severus," McGonagall raised a brow, "let's have some honesty, here. You can not present this objectively."
He narrowed his dark gaze.
"Very well, I see you're ready to pounce on me." He pursed his lips, unenthused. "Go ahead, offer your irritating barbs first."
McGonagall frowned, hiding the urge to chuckle.
"Oh, how exceedingly polite for someone seeking advice."
Snape stared at her for a moment, then rested his forearms on the desk and leaned in closer.
"This entire living situation was arranged so you could prove a point. I am merely extending the opportunity for your victory lap."
"I'd rather take it when you're through," Minerva shot back, a crook of a smile on her lips as the previous scowl faded away.
Letting out an audible 'tsk', Snape finally sucked up his discomfort surrounding the situation and laid it out as tactically as he could.
"I have never felt… dejected, before administering a well-earned punishment. I assume part of my discomfort has stemmed from the close of the war."
"Yes, I imagine so," McGonagall affirmed.
"I hardly had time then to concern myself with a student's reaction to a mere spanking during it."
Snape glanced up at the ceiling and shook his head. How utterly ludicrous this whole debacle was.
"For Salzar's sake, Minerva, I watched people writhing under the cruciatus curse for hours on end without being able to intervene. The subsequent whining of misbehaving students while enduring some well-earned correction could hardly compare."
McGonagall's posture relaxed subtly as she listened, her demeanor shifting to one of quiet support and understanding.
"I suppose… well, it's become evident that there's more opportunity for contemplation before meting out discipline, now that I'm not consumed by the demands of war."
Snape glanced over to the large window up the steps behind McGonagall, trying to convince himself that this conversation was necessary.
"This additional time of reflection has instigated a challenge of your own resolve at times, I take it?"
"At times." Snape replied, reluctantly. "I considered that perhaps this needless sense of empathy for the boy may also be stemming from…"
Trailing off a moment, he took in a breath. The familiar bubble of grief began inflating in his chest, a sensation he fought hard to pop, or at the very least, transform into anger over the years.
Noticing the subtle interplay on Snape's brow, McGonagall lent a hand to the admission.
"Stemming from the acknowledgment that Harry acts far more like his mother than his father, when you take a moment to get to know him."
Snape offered the smallest of nods then sat back in his chair and plowed right over the opening to that conversation.
"It has happened with Draco Malfoy as well, this …dejection of sorts." Snape deflected, "Which has me concerned, or rather, perplexed."
"Yes, well, it's certainly concerning if you're struggling to administer correction to Draco." McGonagall intoned, teasing. "Merlin knows he needs a firm hand."
"No more frequently than Harry," Snape countered, a sardonic edge creeping into his voice. "Unlike your approach in Gryffindor, I hold a high expectation for the behavior of my students. Malfoy is no exception, regardless of the circumstantial mess he found himself in the last few years."
Ignoring the insult to her house, McGonagall flashed a subtle yet unmistakably triumphant smile.
"My, my, Severus. I never thought I'd live to see the day you call Harry by his first name."
Snape glanced away and scoffed, realizing the slip of his tongue.
"It is simply how he prefers to be addressed."
"Oh, yes, how very like you to care about his preferences," McGonagall retorted, her tone laced with sarcasm.
"If you would be so kind as to wipe that ridiculous smirk off your face and concentrate on the concern at hand, I would very much appreciate it."
Snape crossed his arms, flicking his dark hair away from his line of sight with a tilt of his head.
"Very well, Harry aside," McGonagall said, refilling their cups with hot tea. "It seems to me, you are seeking my assistance in navigating emotions while administering corporal punishment, correct?"
"Indeed," Snape responded, his tone carrying a hint of reluctance. "Considering your past proficiency in the matter, I surmised you may be able to provide me with some insight."
"Of course," McGonagall nodded, her mind drifting back to the days when she had wielded the switch and cane with strict authority, even applying them to Severus himself on a few occasions.
"Are you feeling that your thrashings are too harsh? Perhaps guilty over the pain you're inflicting?"
"No, the severity is appropriate." Snape replied, his tone firm. "This issue at hand is that I used to be able to commence with discipline in a practical way, a direct manner– without needless concern over the reactions of my students."
"You wish to keep your emotions detached from this, do you?" McGonagall asked, knowing not to push for the 'concern' that he was experiencing. She already had an idea.
"Yes." Snape nodded, taking in a small breath.
"Whatever for?"
"What for?" He gave her an incredulous look.
"I have a House to run, Minerva. A body of students that need structure and guidance. I can not suddenly lose my ability to administer punishments that I have found to be extremely effective over the last decade."
McGonagall took a sip of tea, trying to navigate a response.
"Besides," he continued, "I don't have time to proctor endless detentions with my students in addition to your plethora of dunderheads."
"Your lovely insult aside," McGonagall quipped, adjusting her position in her chair. "It would be more prudent to focus on this summer, and these concerns regarding Harry and Draco, as I believe we may have another six months, perhaps even a year, before we reopen the school."
"Brilliant." Snape muttered, shaking his head.
"Based on your last night in this office with Harry, I take it he's earned a punishment or two with you outside of the one you administered here?"
Snape nodded. "He has, indeed."
"Did he respond well to the discipline?"
"Well, given that he was foolish enough to crawl through the window of my store to steal from me, perhaps not." Snape said, scoffing— still cursing himself for leaving it open yesterday morning to let in some fresh air and drown out the smell of fermented beetle carcass.
McGonagall hummed low, deciding to first rule out one aspect before the other, keeping the focus on Harry.
"Let's return to that in a moment. Following the previous punishments, did he shut down? Show signs of resentment? Perhaps avoid you for a time?"
"No," Snape relied. "Har– Potter, responds far better when we're through than most of my students."
After a brief pause Snape continued, "Once he thanked me, precluding a particularly draining ordeal… though, I might presume that came more so from my uncharacteristic display of comfort."
"Is that so?"
"I shall not give you a single detail." Snape rolled his eyes at her little smile and continued, "Point being, he responds remarkably well to this form of correction once it's over and done with."
"More tea?" McGonagall offered, pouring herself a third cup. Snape declined and she continued with the conversation. "You're emphasizing 'after', does he resist beforehand?"
"There's a touch of natural resistance," Snape remarked, straightening out a wrinkle in his pants. "I certainly don't permit outright defiance."
McGonagall nodded, pausing to gather her thoughts.
"Does he guard his emotions while being punished or express them?"
"He cries." Snape stated, bluntly. "Quite a bit harder than others when we're near the end."
Ah, so here it is. As I suspected. McGonagall flashed him a sympathetic expression, further stirring his discomfort.
"I imagine that is a challenge in and of itself."
"It shouldn't be." He countered.
"But it is."
Snape sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Yes, it distresses me at times, Minerva. No need to linger on the sentiment."
"Well, this may not be what you want to hear, but your concern over his emotional state is a healthy reaction." She said, "It's human, Severus."
"It's something I've not experienced." He admitted, finally. "Not to this extent."
A subtle tension persisted across Snape's back, tightening the muscles of his shoulders. Memories of disciplining Harry over the last month swept through his mind, kindling the reluctance building in the pit of his stomach.
Seeing the flicker of distress in his eyes, McGonagall pulled herself up to the edge of her seat and leaned in a bit closer.
"Well, as unlikely as it may sound, I suspect Harry appreciates the opportunity you're providing him to release some long held burdens."
The discomfort evident in Snape's expression faded some, replaced by one of contemplation.
McGonagall continued, "He went years having to completely disregard his own feelings, bearing the weight of saving the world– and doing it all without a parent or proper guardian to support him. Away from this school and all the inevitable issues that arose here, he went home to those deplorable relatives who I'm certain never made him feel safe enough to express himself emotionally."
As McGonagall's words lingered in the air, Snape's feigned mask of indifference faltered momentarily.
"Then you would conclude his outpour of emotion corresponds to matters outside of the immediate pain of the punishment?"
"Certainly," McGonagall nodded, confidently. "Especially given that he has agreed to such discipline and chooses to stay. I presume he finds personal benefit in the structure you're providing."
Snape wasn't sure what to respond with for a moment, though her words inexplicably soothed the tension that had been growing across his shoulders for the last hour.
"Do you recommend that I—"
Vibrant green flames suddenly whirled to life in the fireplace of the office, bringing forth a flustered Molly Weasley with them, completely stealing the thought on the tip of Snape's lips.
"Oh, hello, good morning," Mrs. Weasley said, flashing an apologetic smile between the pair. "So sorry to budge in on your meeting like this."
McGonagall rose and moved with Snape over to the fireplace where Mrs. Weasley now stood.
"Not to worry at all, Molly. How is Ron faring?" She replied with a small smile.
"Oh, well, he decided to have himself a cinnamon roll while I was out front talking with Harry," Mrs. Weasley let out an exasperated sigh. "Hobbled down the stairs like a freshly birthed colt to get to them. I'm more than certain you told him not to have a heavy meal, so I wanted to see if he'll be alright?"
Mrs. Weasley turned her slightly anxious gaze over to Snape, who looked none too pleased at the admission. Before he could answer her, she cut in again.
"I make them fairly fluffy, a bit on the larger side."
Mrs. Weasley made a large circle with her hands, mirroring the size of a small plate.
Snape's expression morphed into one of disdain. Freshly poisoned or not, no one needed a cinnamon roll that large.
"I assume that won't cause too much of an issue, perhaps some stomach pain as his body should be allowed time to recover without having to fight to digest a monstrously large excuse for a breakfast."
"Not everyone enjoys skipping a meal or opting for a dry slice of toast on the run, Severus." McGonagall defended, flashing Mrs. Weasley an apologetic smile.
"I haven't the foggiest clue what I'm going to do with that boy," Mrs. Weasley muttered, hardly affected by the criticism of her cinnamon rolls. "Right well, thank sorry to pop in."
Mrs. Weasley stepped back toward the fireplace and withdrew a handful of sparkling green powder from the pocket of her floral dress.
"Oh, and Severus, I'll be sending Ron straight to your place if you'd like to utilize him for any sort of work or errands after he's recovered from this rubbish mess. Arthur will pay you for the ingredients used in the potion he took as well. Of course, I would have Ron pay, but he doesn't have a Knut to his name these days."
"That won't be necessary, those potions need to be disposed of." Snape said, his tone a smidge less sharp. "I shall send for him in the next week or so, if you'd like."
"Right then, and he'll take Harry along too," Mrs. Weasley added firmly. "Just because he's moving out doesn't give him the right to dodge consequences for this. Hero or not, I have no problem hunting him down and dragging him to your door."
"Oh, you don't plan on moving him out." McGonagall offered Snape a warm expression to which he rolled his eyes at. "Do you?"
"Well Harry seemed to think so." Mrs. Weasley paused, pulling one foot away from the fireplace. "Left to grab his things without even staying for breakfast first."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow.
"Of course he did." Snape muttered, turning abruptly to stalk back up to McGonagall's desk. "It's not as though I can expect him to behave rationally…no, certainly not the hero of our world, not Harry Potter."
He snatched up his wand, muttered something about the dramatic behavior of teenagers, and strode quickly down the stone steps.
"Minerva, I'm certain you don't need a detailed explanation as to why I must cut this meeting short," Snape said over his shoulder, gliding past the two women as he made his way to the exit of the office. "Save your smirk for next week when I have time to sneer at it."
Snape didn't look back as he quickly exited the office, muttering his newly sparked frustration every step of the way down to the fireplace in his office.
McGonagall let out a small chuckle, calling out after him:
"I certainly will. Say hello to Harry for me."
Harry crumpled the parchment paper scribbled with fresh ink into a tight ball and tossed it in the pile of half written letters. He stared at the next blank page, attempting to compose his thoughts again. Writing a letter of gratitude intermixed with a lengthy apology didn't quite flow the way he'd anticipated. With a sigh, he adjusted his chair at the kitchen table and picked up his quill.
Dipping the tip into the ink, Harry flung off the excess on the lip of the small inkwell and began to write once more.
Professor Snape,
First off, I want to say I'm sorry—
Harry's quill scratched across the paper, faltering in its scribbling glide when he caught the unmistakable sound of the floo igniting in the living room.
Shit, he's back.
Glancing down at the paper, Harry sucked in a small breath. The sound of Snape's familiar footsteps sounded off the walls of the otherwise quiet home, making his way toward him.
Harry dropped his quill and crumpled the final piece of parchment, his shoulders sagging. He didn't want to do this in person, didn't want to face Snape's wrath on his way out the door, but now he wasn't left with a choice.
"What have we here?" Snape's low tone cut through the serenity of the kitchen.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Harry glanced up to meet his stern gaze. Snape motioned down toward Harry's packed trunk and broom, arching an eyebrow.
"Running away after such an egregious transgression seems a bit bold, even for someone as foolish as you."
Harry furrowed his brows. Running away?
"No, um," he glanced down at the pile of crumbled letters, then to his packed bags. "I just wanted to get my things together. To, y'know, make this easier."
Snape rolled his eyes. "Make what easier?"
"Moving out."
"Moving out?" Snape drawled slowly. "Well, this is indeed remarkably convenient timing to schedule a departure, considering the looming consequences you now face for such inexcusable behavior."
Schedule a departure? Harry glanced up. He's not kicking me out?
The previous torrent of rejection caged in the center of his chest broke free, but was soon replaced by a bout of trepidation.
I'm so screwed.
"I thought you wanted me to leave," Harry said quietly. "Isn't that why you went to see McGonagall?"
"No, it is not, you ridiculously impulsive boy."
Snape strode over to the table and yanked out the chair next to him.
"Though how utterly unsurprising it is to hear you've drawn yet another gravely inaccurate conclusion and chosen to act irrationally upon it."
Harry let out a tight breath, the sound of the chair dragging against the wood floor sending a cluster of nerves crawling through his stomach.
"Now," Snape leveled Harry with the sternest glare he could muster, snapping the chair down to face him and taking a seat. "What in Merlin's name were you thinking, Potter? Breaking in and stealing from me– nearly killing Weasley in the process. Have you lost your mind?"
The sudden closeness to Snape made Harry's pulse quicken, intensifying the knot of dread and shame in his stomach.
"Well, um," he paused, looking away from the penetrating black glare. "It's a load to explain…"
Snape leaned in closer, his voice coming out menacingly low.
"Begin somewhere, now, or I'll drape you across my knee and give you some encouragement to help locate your words."
Sucking in a sharp breath, Harry flushed but started talking instantly.
He took Snape all the way back to the drunken night in the Leaky Cauldron, where Ron had first asked for the potions, navigating the intricate web of events with a level of honesty he often evaded. He delved into the heavy burden of stress that weighed on him as he grappled with the decision to steal. His explanation left no stone unturned, providing a detailed account while offering only a faint defense of his actions.
"And I didn't want to break your trust." Harry added again, "but Ron's my best mate, I couldn't just sit back and let him suffer."
Snape paused to digest Harry's admission, then shook his head in disbelief at the sheer absurdity of it all. The boy would soon have ample opportunity to unburden himself of those suppressed emotions McGonagall had mentioned, for he was in for a world of hurt after this senseless transgression. Any hint of pity Snape had earlier instantly vanished, taking that pesky feeling of dejection with it.
"It was a rubbish, er, stupid thing to do, I know," Harry glanced down, swaying his leg hanging off the chair. "I'm sorry."
A tense pause hung in the air making him swallow hard. He interlaced his fingers on his lap and forced himself to look back up at Snape.
"There's something else I wanted to tell you too."
"And what might that be?" Snape's low voice resonated with the sternness reflected in his expression.
Harry swallowed, glancing over.
Snape shifted his dark gaze, following Harry's nod to the crumpled up balls of parchment on the tabletop.
"I, uh, tried writing you a letter, y'know, to thank you for that night. The one where you made me go out in the rain, and got me a drink so we could go work on potions," Harry said, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He paused, tightening his interlaced fingers, "I just wanted you to know that I didn't take any of it for granted. I don't really know how to put into words how much all this has meant to me over the last month. The talks and stuff."
Snape hummed low, collecting his thoughts.
"I see." He leaned in a bit closer, his presence dominating the space. "Remind me once more why you didn't simply ask me for a sleeping draught?"
There was a brief pause as Snape studied Harry intently, his expression inscrutable.
"Ron said his mum didn't want him asking, so he told me if I asked you then you'd probably talk to Mrs. Weasley and she'd say no." Harry glanced around, his stomach tightening. "I guess I believed him since you seem so… er, 'by the book' with things. You said Draco can only have potions after his mums 'considerations' so it seemed likely you'd say no to Ron. It sounds childish, I know. But I, well I felt convinced taking them was my best option."
"Best option?"
Harry felt unnerved when Snape scoffed, offering a familiar sort of look as he sat back in his chair. It was the same expression he wore when Harry didn't know an answer to a question in class – a mix of disdain and disappointment. The weight of his dark, scrutinizing gaze bore down on him, filling the room with an oppressive silence.
"You wait here," Snape instructed after a tense moment.
As Harry watched him stand up and walk to the back door, the lump in his throat grew larger. While he was relieved Snape wasn't kicking him out, the realization that he was staying hit him hard. Staying meant suffering the consequences of such a rubbish decision—one that nearly got his best mate killed. Harry groaned and leaned his head back.
Merlin I'm in for a load of hell.
Just as Harry's mind began to flood with trepidation, twisting his stomach into a tighter ball than the parchment on the counter, Snape strode back in. He let the metal door sweep shut behind him, the sound snapping sharply throughout the kitchen.
Another snap rang out, this one accompanied by potion vials clinking together.
Harry's pensive gaze trailed down to the tabletop where Snape had just deposited a wooden box containing familiar vials. Without saying a word, he reached in and withdrew one.
"Fairy wings," Snape began, setting the shimmering vial in Harry's hand, "possess unique properties, as you may recall from our previous conversations."
A look of puzzlement crossed Harry's face as he glanced up from the potion to meet Snape's stern expression.
"Some accredited research suggests," Snape continued, taking his seat, "that they may aid in the physical and mental recovery needed following a long stint without proper sleep, when added to a sleeping draught."
Harry's expression melted from one of confusion to utter shock.
"Snape, don't tell me—"
"That you already helped me prepare potions for Weasley and in your ignorance nearly aided in his untimely demise all because you simply refused to ask for my help? My apologies if you were hoping for another painstakingly long moment to put the pieces together yourself."
"Bloody hell." Harry muttered, staring down at the shimmering potion in his palm.
"Quite the shock I'm sure." Snape added in a bored voice, keeping his disciplinary eye on the boy.
After a long moment of wallowing in his own stupidity, Harry sighed.
"Well… guess I'll just go jump off the Astronomy Tower then, since you're not going to let me live to see another day for this."
Snape scoffed and collected the potion from Harry's palm, replacing it with a clink that punctuated the tension between them.
"The melodrama you're capable of never ceases to astound me," he remarked dryly, his tone tinged with exasperation.
Snape motioned down to Harry's packed bags.
"Are you genuinely considering moving out or did you simply create unnecessary work for yourself while languishing in your own self imposed angst?"
Harry sucked in a fast breath, his heart pounding in his chest as he glanced down, feeling the weight of Snape's scrutiny growing.
"That depends," he lied, his voice laced with trepidation, "how bad is this gonna be?"
"Your punishment?" Snape said slowly, surveying him with a sharp look.
Harry nodded, his throat feeling tight as he brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck.
"Well, let's assess this from my perspective, shall we?"
Snape's eyebrow arched in annoyance as Harry kept his gaze averted. He snapped his fingers inches from Harry's face, prompting him to look back up. He pointed his finger at the teenager's chest and set his jaw in a tight line.
"For the remainder of this conversation, you will look at me when I'm speaking to you," he instructed, his voice brooking no argument. "Is that perfectly clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry responded, his stomach churning with apprehension.
"Now, sit up straight and stop rubbing your blasted neck."
Harry obeyed, the weight of Snape's biting tone pinning him as he struggled to maintain eye contact, his thoughts whirling with a mixture of shame and rising frustration.
I'm so daft, how'd I get this so wrong?
"Given that your nervous habit of palming at your neck provides a segue into one of the many mistakes you've made, we'll start there."
Harry swallowed hard, his mouth dry as he offered a small nod.
"I believe it was just yesterday morning that I asked you what you were up to, was it not?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
Harry let out a pent-up huff, willing the glimmer of irritation flickering within him to dissipate.
"Keep your tone in check, Potter. Or you'll be one sorry little wizard."
How quickly a glimmer turned into a spark.
"Now, tell me, what was your cheeky little response to my pointed inquiry yesterday?"
Despite his overwhelming shame, Snape's hard and condescending tone effectively ignited a flame in the center of Harry's chest. He was tired of feeling guilty over this; it was exhausting. Hating how upset he was growing, and how frustrated he felt with himself for getting into this rubbish mess in the first place, he couldn't stop from deflecting with a bit of his own edge.
"Come on, Snape," Harry retorted, his voice tinged with fresh irritation. "You were there, weren't you? I don't see why I need to repeat myself."
Snape's black eyes narrowed, his temper flaring.
"Stand up."
Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, his stomach slinking down low.
Right, fucking stupid thing to say that was, wasn't it? He cursed his own impulsiveness.
The minute he pushed up to stand, Harry found himself being tugged off balance, his stomach hitting Snape's firm thighs with a thud.
"Blimey," he muttered under his breath, his face burning with embarrassment.
What's wrong with me?
Deciding not to waste time stinging his hand against the fabric of Harry's muggle jeans, Snape withdrew his wand and transfigured Harry's quill into a wooden ruler. Without a moment of hesitation, he snatched it up and snapped it down with force.
"Ow! What—"
Harry craned his neck back, startled by the unexpected burn stretching across his freshly smacked skin. He caught sight of Snape pulling back the ruler again and grimaced.
Where'd he get that thing?
He hung his head down low and jerked when he felt the first slew of hard smacks rain down across his upended bum.
Snape was hitting hard— harder than he ever had over his trousers before, making Harry instantly regret his nerve.
Harry shifted against the relentless sting spreading across his heated skin, his gasps of pain filling the small kitchen— mingling with the loud smacks of the ruler.
"I will not accept even a hint of defiance from you, Potter," Snape snapped the ruler down three times with full force. "You are in enough trouble as it is."
He concentrated a slew of biting spanks to the top of Harry's thighs and continued his threat without missing a beat.
"I suggest you hold your tongue unless you want your trousers pulled down before we even discuss your impending consequences for this reckless stunt."
"No, no—don't," Harry gasped, squirming his thighs against the building pain. "I'll— ah— I'll be respectful! I just got—frustrated—oww, Snape, 'm sorry."
After a minute more of harsh smacks, Snape finally stopped spanking, pulled Harry up, and smoothly deposited him back in his own chair.
Harry sucked in a sharp breath when his arse hit the wooden seat, the overwhelming sensation burning his skin. He pinched his eyes shut, unable to look at Snape beneath the blanket of shame settling over him.
"Now," Snape instructed, tapping the ruler on his open palm, "let's try again. What did you say to me yesterday morning?"
Sucking in a few shaky breaths, Harry attempted to stop the tears charging toward his emerald eyes. This entire morning had been a train wreck of nerves, adrenaline, and stress. And the unexpected spanking only added to his inner turmoil.
"I said," Harry swallowed, forcing himself to look at Snape. "I said that you were wrong, just missing your spy days and I wasn't up to anything… sir."
"Indeed. You offered me a blatant, boldfaced lie."
Harry nodded, glancing down briefly before quickly pulling his gaze back up to Snape's.
"Yeah," he shifted on his chair, wincing. " I…I lied to you."
Snape hummed low, looking thoroughly displeased.
"It seems you have a habit of doing so. If I recall correctly, I asked you about this matter recently, and your explanation for your tight neck and suspicious behavior then was quite distinct from the truth provided today."
"But," Harry bit his lip and shifted again, ignoring the prickling burn the movement caused. "I wasn't lying that night in the rain. I was upset about the war… I just left out how shitty I felt trying to come up with a way to get the potions."
"Exclusion of the truth is just another way of phrasing a lie, Potter."
"Yeah, okay," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, really."
"You will be soon enough." Snape's tone dripped with icy disappointment as he set the ruler on the table with a clack.
Harry glanced over to it and swallowed, his thoughts trailing up to the strap resting in his dresser drawer. He knew this was coming, he did, but it didn't make it any easier to face.
"So we have multiple lies," Snape continued, interlacing his fingers and bringing them down to his lap. "Then we have deliberate rule-breaking of a boundary I heavily stressed the importance of adhering to."
Nodding, Harry fought off the slew of unwanted emotion threatening to suffocate him. He couldn't believe how stupid this was— Snape had made Ron potions! He had even helped. He didn't understand why or how, but it didn't matter. All that mattered now was that all his anxiety, and stress had been for absolutely fucking nothing. Now he was in trouble with Snape, the worst trouble he'd been in so far, and it was upsetting— so upsetting.
Snape took in a slight breath, quelling his temper as the terrifying events of the morning flitted through his thoughts once more. He narrowed his stern glare, leaning in closer to Harry.
"Setting foot in that area alone without my explicit permission would have earned you a trip over my knee, but breaking in and stealing," Snape strummed his fingertips in slow thumps across the wooden table, "that, Harry James, is inexcusable— and it will be dealt with according to the severity."
With his stomach rolling and his palms sweating, Harry whispered a subdued, "I understand, Professor Snape."
"Is there anything further you wish to say for yourself?"
"Well… no, just that I was actually planning to tell you this morning. But then, er, Mrs. Weasley got here."
He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he spoke, a flush creeping across his face under Snape's intense gaze. Humming low, Snape traversed Harry's ashamed expression.
"Yes, well, how relieving to know at least a modicum of your critical thinking skills made an appearance today."
Glancing away, Harry wiped the sweat off his palms on the front of his trousers.
"Are you going to," he cleared his throat, willing the flush of shame spreading up his neck to recede, "are you going to use the strap?"
"Indeed I am."
Harry winced but nodded slowly. He'd hoped Snape might change his mind, but deep down, knew better.
"And in addition to the strap," Snape continued, his firm tone infusing a thick tension into the air. "You've also earned two evening punishments."
"Two?" Harry glanced up, his emerald eyes reflecting a mix of trepidation and distress. "Snape, look, I know I messed up but—"
"Ah, no, enough." Snape held up his calloused palm. "You may not argue with me."
Harry sucked in a small breath, resisting his urge to try and plead his way out of this. Snape's attention shifted to the crumpled letters resting on the table.
"In fact, consider yourself fortunate. I would've sentenced you to three nights, but dropped one for your attempted confession."
Harry shifted in his chair and grimaced.
"Okay." He said, his tone quiet and utterly dejected.
There wasn't much left to say, at least not for now. A small hush settled between them, the lavender-scented atmosphere dripping with unresolved tension. Harry was looking down, looking like he'd just been kicked in the chest. A single glance at his sad, ashamed expression stoked the buried ember of dread within Snape. Though he managed to quickly steel himself against any feelings of pity. Harry had royally messed up, and he was going to pay the price for such a reckless show of disobedience. As challenging as it may prove to be, they had a path to walk down. Harry would come out of this summer, perhaps even this year, with a head on his shoulders. He was going to make sure of it.
"Go to your room," Snape instructed, his expression firm. "I'll be up shortly to discipline you."
Harry let out a held breath and forced himself to stand up on his nerve-wracked legs. He felt sick, not solely because of the physical pain awaiting him, but sick at the thought of losing the fragile relationship he'd built with Snape over the last month. He didn't mean to get frustrated and earn smacks beforehand, he didn't mean to question the two other impending punishments either. Hell, he knew he deserved them; but his emotions were all over the place today, like a train careening down old tracks with no breaks. It was all too much to handle.
"Yes, sir." He said quietly.
Snape remained seated, watching as the boy moved slowly out of sight. Harry's bare feet landed in soft thumps across the wooden floor boards, his heart pumping in tandem with each dejected step.
"Snape?" He hesitated, reaching the bottom of the staircase.
Standing up, Snape replaced his chair in its proper position at the table. Then stepped into view, wordlessly prompting him to speak.
"I'm sorry, y'know." Harry mumbled, his gaze shifting upstairs then back down to him, dreading the disappointment etched across his former professor's face.
"Yes, I'm aware," Snape replied, his tone softening a touch. "But apologies do not absolve you of the repercussions of your actions. You have earned a considerable reprimand, Harry. Go up and wait for me."
Harry let out a breath, nodded twice and set his jaw.
"Right, um… I understand. I'm going, sir."
He then pushed himself to walk up the stairs on unsteady feet. His dread amplified with every creaking step as he made his way towards his bedroom, hoping Snape wouldn't keep him waiting for long.
Author's Notes: Happy Thursday! I was hoping to get this posted a few days ago but my work/life responsibilities had other plans. I won't have enough time to write the next chapter by this Sunday, but I should have it ready to go the following one. Much love to you all! Have a wonderful weekend and enjoyable upcoming week. Thank you for your support as always! I'll have more time to thank you individually for your reviews on my next update :)
