[TW: Disciplinary spanking and non-consensual consent] This is not a slash fic, but it does have spanking as the main focal point. I strongly advise that you read the disclaimer in my bio prior to reading this fiction to see if this story might be a good read for you.
Chapter 35: Shelved Secrets
Gazing into a shimmering vial cradled gently in her palm, Hermione stood in contemplative silence amidst the clutter of Ron's room. Childhood treasures and trinkets sprawled haphazardly across the shelves, each item evoking nostalgia of days long gone. Days unmarred by war. Twilight filtered in through the window, its darkness warring with the flickering glow of a bedside candle.
"Did you hear me, 'mione?" Ron's voice came from the bed, slightly obscured by a yawn.
"Yes, sorry," she glanced up from the violet potion clutched in her fingertips. "Of course I'd rather stay here for the rest of the summer."
"Right, good." Ron pulled the covers back from his spot in the center of the small bed. "Come on, then?" He patted the empty space to his left. "You've been standing over there with your nose buried in that potion for ages. It's not like the ingredients are going to magically appear on the bottle, y'know. You'll have to ask Snape yourself."
"Obviously, Ronald." Honey brown eyes rolled in his direction, but she slid happily into bed with him. Her smooth legs brushed against his, filling the bed with an instant warmth.
"Here," she placed the vial in his palm. "You need a proper night's rest, nap earlier or not."
"Thanks," said Ron, setting the potion aside. "You alright? You seem a bit off tonight. Fancy a little chat about it?"
Feeling torn, Hermione glanced away. She'd like nothing more than to tell Ron her concerns and listen to him laugh them off. Shaking his bright red hair at the absurdity while talking her out of this ghastly idea that Harry was being punished like that by Snape. But, Charlie had a bit of a point, didn't he? This was a sensitive matter. A rather private one. And while Ron might chuckle, blowing it off as an implausible idea not worth a worry (telling her that George and Charlie were right out of their 'bloody minds'). He also might go mental. Burst out of his room— Apparate straight to Snape's, no matter how much she protested. Drag Harry out the house, look him dead in the eye and demand to know if Snape had ever laid a hand on him. That… oh, well that would be a dreadful way to handle it, Hermione reasoned. Plus, she needed the facts. She had to know for herself that Snape even smacked the Slytherins in the first place before assuming the worst about Harry's situation.
"It's nothing, really," Hermione glanced back up and flashed him a melancholy smile, "a bit troubled by the war, is all."
"That's not nothing," said Ron with a softness in his tone that stoppered the open wound in her chest. "Blimey, you were— she," Ron took a breath, his face turning ashen at the memory. "Bellatrix, that right cunt—"
"Oh, no," Hermione interjected, "no, Ron, it's not that. Not tonight." She unconsciously tugged on her long sleeve, ensuring her scar was covered.
Seeing the distress etching across his face, she leaned in—pressing herself up closely to his side. With her hand resting against his chest she murmured, "I'm alright. I haven't, well I have, thought about it, but it's not troubling me right now. Not when I'm here with you, safe and close."
"Oh, well… good. That's a relief," Ron said quietly, wrapping an arm around her smooth shoulder. He still couldn't quite believe that Hermione felt safe with him. That he'd gotten so brilliantly lucky to have her tucked down into his bed, holding him close. Him of all people. He planted a gentle kiss on her forehead and whispered, "Sorry about bringing it up, love. What's on your mind then? Maybe it'd help to chat?"
Hermione closed her eyes, finding comfort in the steady rise and fall of Ron's chest beneath her hand. It was lovely to be back in his arms. The weight of her concerns with Harry fading some, bringing her back to another thought she couldn't move past.
"It's all so… heavy, really," said Hermione, her tone sober. "Haunting, I suppose. At times I wonder if we'll ever go a day without thinking of what we went through at the end."
"I know what you mean," Ron replied, his voice slightly gruff with emotion as he tightened his arm around her. "But, it's like Mum says, we're all on the mend now. Healing, yeah? One day, we'll be out there laughing and eating, realizing none of it's bothering us like it used to."
He tried to sound optimistic, lighthearted for her sake. But he wasn't sure he believed himself, not hardly. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep without a potion, the horrors of what could have happened that bloody day on the battlefield came back in fragmented flashes.
The glittering eyes of death eaters narrowing, shifting around the bodies of his fallen classmates in the rubble. Hermione screaming while Bellatrix ran a knife over every part of her precious body. Voldemort cackling with glee over Harry Potter— dead. But this time, Harry wouldn't wake up. He'd thud slack at the Dark Lord's feet. Head cracking against the cobblestone, his eyes empty— vacant. Like Fred's were after the explosion. The thick scales of Nagini would twist around Hermione's neck and Ron couldn't move, couldn't yell for help or reach for his wand. Life would drain from her, and he'd be powerless to stop it. Fred would groan on the blood-ridden floor of his dream's night after night. Waking up from that image was the worst of all. At least with the others, he'd talk himself out of a cold sweat with: Hermione's safe. Harry lived. Voldemort's dead. But waking up to the silence after hearing distorted echoes of Fred in agony yielded no relief. No peace came when he startled up and took a labored breath.
Ron swallowed, his throat tight. "We'll be alright."
"You always manage to brighten my outlook," Hermione said, a cozy smile tugging at the corners of her face as she leaned in to press a kiss to lips.
He returned it, focusing on her. Her subtle lips and gentle touch. They'd become his lifeline, the glue holding his broken pieces tenderly together.
After they pulled away, he uttered, "You're the one givin off all the brightness, you are."
A quiet laugh escaped Hermione's lips as she nestled closer to Ron, finding solace in his warmth. "You're absolutely adorable sometimes," she said, her arms wrapping around him in a tighter embrace. "Tell me about that day—the one where we'll be laughing and eating. Where do you imagine us being? In the heart of town?"
A faint smile overtook Ron's freckled face. "No, no— course not. We'll be in our great big house," he replied, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently stroke her hair.
And so they began to talk about their future, kids someday—that dream house of their own. They talked like the war had never happened, both of them suppressing the trauma they held close. They talked as though they were looking at life with fresh eyes, full of hope. The candle on the bedside table dripped behind the sound of their soft chatter, melting down in a puddle as the night drew on. A large serving of dessert whizzed up the stairs at the flick of Ron's wand. Although Hermione had teased him about indulging in too many sugary treats before bed, their spoons still engaged in a playful battle for the last delectable bite of Mrs. Weasley's bread pudding.
When they'd finally blown out the light and Ron had downed the potion, Hermione found her thoughts drifting back to Harry. She wondered if he was getting moments like these, to laugh and dream of brighter days. She hoped he was finding some peace while coping in the aftermath of it all. The thin quilt between her fingertips felt warm in one hand, while the empty potion vial Ron had passed her, cold in the other.
Harry doesn't deserve any more stress, Hermione thought, disquiet growing. She had gone on a healing retreat to settle her mind after the battle but Harry, the savior of their world, went to Professor Snape. A far cry from a warm man, paddling's and punishments completely aside. Some payback for saving everyone's life, that. Harry deserved to be supported, not hit. Not made to do chores and be reprimanded for disrespect. Will he ever get treated properly? Hermione wondered, Ron's peaceful breathing punctuating the silence. Without trying, she was spiraling into a dark tunnel of 'what if's' over her best friend's life.
Just like she had all those sleepless nights in her dorm room many, many months ago.
Hours earlier in Silent Hollow, Harry adjusted his glasses, the steam from his piping hot cup of tea fogging his vision. He leaned against the counter in the kitchen, watching Snape stir his own brew. He felt an odd sense to keep his cup raised to his face, a desperate urge to hide behind its warmth and calming aroma. A part of him was mortified to have prattled on in the bedroom like that, spewing his childhood out like he needed ruddy sympathy for it. It was an accident, really. He never meant to tell anyone about his worst memories. Especially not Snape. Though, a part of him, the other part, felt relieved to have been embraced and comforted over hardships he'd never dared share before.
"Drink it like that and you'll burn your tongue off," Snape motioned to the steaming tea and flicked his wand. Instantly Harry felt the heat burning his fingertips dissipate from the rim of his teacup— the steam vanishing.
"Thanks," he muttered behind the cup, taking a lengthier sip than he normally would.
A familiar sappy warmth spread lazily down his throat, infusing a calmness through his body. His tight shoulders relaxed, the tension easing in his back, taking the stress of revealing his childhood secrets away.
"You put a calming draught in this?" Harry asked, pulling the cup down and looking over to Snape with curious eyes.
"Indeed," said Snape, his gaze fixed on his own draught infused tea.
He would have preferred to have knocked back a few glasses of Serpent's Sip Reserve but he didn't want to send the wrong message to Harry. The, "I need liquor if we're going to continue unburying emotions," message. A cup of hot tea with a double dose of a calming draught would have to do.
"I can't believe it hasn't altered the taste," said Harry as he glanced down at his tea, which appeared entirely ordinary.
"I changed the flavor," said Snape, taking a lengthy sip.
"Of the potion?" Harry gave him a stunned look.
"Yes," Snape responded, placing his cup back onto the saucer with a soft clink.
"Huh, didn't know you could do that," Harry took a sip of his tea and made a faint smacking noise with his tongue as he tried to discern the taste.
Mentally, Snape urged himself to ask Harry what he wanted to talk about. He was as ready as he'd ever be to continue their earlier conversation. While he may not have known the perfect words to say, he was determined to offer what little comfort he could. It was evident that Harry was troubled, and he was committed to helping him navigate through whatever was weighing on his mind and causing his tears outside of the discomfort of punishment and his abusive upbringing. Snape took a breath and parted his lips but then—
"Did you… did the death eaters kneel for the Crucio?" Harry asked.
Despite being known for his stoic expressions, Snape's shock at the question showed plainly. Harry internally cringed, realizing how insensitive something like that must've sounded. He ran his thumb along the rim of his cup, pausing to tap gently.
"Sorry," he glanced away, "perhaps that's not something you'd prefer to discuss… I, er… we don't have to talk about it."
Snape's expression soon softened, a gust of realization passing over him. "Did my comment on that earlier make you feel as though you weren't permitted to cry over your punishment?"
Harry shook his head, mumbling his next words into a gulp of tea.
"You'll have to repeat the latter half of that," said Snape, leaning on the counter. "I don't speak tea mutter, I'm afraid."
"No, I know you didn't mean it like that." Harry said, pulling his cup down. His face heated a touch at the mention of his punishment again. "You just meant I didn't need to be so wound up."
A pause settled in the kitchen, the two of them standing across from each other on either side of the center island. Snape took a long sip of his own tea then set his cup down.
"Yes, that was the sentiment I had intended to convey," said Snape, his voice calm despite the intensity of the memories Harry's previous question conjured. "As for death eaters," he hesitated, almost lying before ultimately deciding against it. "Yes, kneeling for the Cruciatus curse was required when the Dark Lord deemed it necessary."
"Bloody hell." Harry's stomach twisted in on itself, he couldn't stop from imagining the scene. Knees on a cold, stone floor— on the dirt or the grass. Waiting for unbearable pain— for that blinding, bone piercing agony to fall. It was intolerable enough when struck with it unexpectedly. But waiting for it to hit… he couldn't fathom it.
Harry's hands trembled then. The memory of Voldemort casting the curse on him in the graveyard invading his thoughts. He could nearly feel the ghost of a sensation, burning every bone in his body— like thousands of knives on fire. He took another thick sip of his draught infused tea, gripping the cup tightly. The tremble in his hands subsided and he stared down at them like they were traitors. He couldn't recall them ever shaking over a memory before. Then again, he'd not thought about that night in a long while. Cedric's lifeless eyes, staring empty at him. His arm pulsing, dripping with blood from the knife slit. Voldemort's skeleton-like finger burning him through the touch of his scar. Harry's heart thumped. He swigged down another gulp of tea.
Snape sighed, motioning to a seat at the table. If he could charm his wand to give himself a hard smack for mentioning such a thing in the first place, he would. What was he thinking? Saying something like that to Harry.
"But not you." Harry's voice wavered, his composure returning as he settled into the chair. "You were the one he trusted. He didn't do that to you, right?"
Heavy silence lingered for a moment, punctuated by the soft scrape of Snape's chair against the wooden floor as he pulled it out and sat down as well.
"He did," Snape said, his tone low, "even I, in his good graces, faced his wrath. Loyalty in that circle was a precarious balance, Harry." He seemed impassive, but below the surface, Snape's own traumatic memories flickered painfully. "Given that I missed the first summons upon his return, the Dark Lord expressed his displeasure first and listened to my explanation after."
"You were supposed to be there," Harry said, the air in his chest gone shallow. "In the graveyard."
Snape nodded, taking a slow sip of tea.
Harry stiffened, his stomach growing nauseous at the thought. "He thought you'd betrayed him?" And tortured you for it.
"Briefly," Snape confirmed, smoothing out a wrinkle in his trousers.
The emotions bubbled then, those pesky feelings from earlier that Harry failed to keep down. He ground his teeth together then bit down on his inner cheek, hoping to suppress the flood of heat rising back up behind his eyes. He couldn't believe Snape had done it, had survived the tests and kept his cover for so long. Out of loyalty to his mother. Loyalty to him.
"You needn't trouble yourself," said Snape, meeting Harry's distressed gaze. "It is in the past, after all."
"I," Harry's brows knit in a tight line, "how did you handle it… waiting for the curse to hit like that?"
Snape bit back the familiar urge to deflect his discomfort with sarcasm.
"The same way you would've, I suspect," he said instead. He took a sip of his tea, feeling the soothing warmth sliding down his chest. Easing the tension locked across his back.
Harry's gaze shifted, his mind wrestling with conflicting emotions. He wanted to ask Snape more. To offer him support if, by chance, he wanted to talk about how dreadful that must have been. But he knew Snape and he didn't want to risk making him uncomfortable. If he offered a compliment, he might bite back with sarcasm or that dry, emotionless tone. It was second nature to the man at this point.
"Yeah," Harry couldn't help but shake his head, a thin thread of sarcasm woven into his next words. "I'm sure I seem like the type who can handle loads of pain to you."
"You were struck with the same curse and made it out of the graveyard alive. Holding on to Cedric Diggory no less." Snape countered, his tone firm but quiet. "Not to mention, you outwitted a horntail dragon despite being thrashed around." Pausing for a moment, Snape surprised himself with the encouragement he was offering. "I've seen you plummet from Quidditch heights without so much as a whimper. Broken arm one moment, cracked skull the next, and yet, you returned to the pitch the minute you were given leave to do so."
"Yeah, well the tournament aside," Harry took a breath, not wanting to dwell on that night for a moment longer than he had to. "Quidditch… that's, er, it's different."
"Harry, you're not allowed to discredit a lifetime of endurance simply because you've experienced emotions during discipline," Snape said plainly then finished the remainder of his tea.
It was then that Harry realized he'd been sitting on the hard table chair without so much as a thought to his smacked bum. The discomfort gone now.
"Feels rather pathetic to sob like I did over nothing," Harry ran a hand over his face.
"Nothing hmm?" Snape countered, arching an eyebrow.
"Uh, well," Harry hesitated, "I mean, it… it stung. But it was a light one… like you said it would be."
Snape suppressed a small smile thinking back to how Harry hollered the exact opposite not an hour ago.
"Emotions during corporal punishment are not always tied to the pain you're experiencing." Snape motioned for Harry to give him his empty tea cup.
Harry complied, his thoughts wandering back to how much was on his mind earlier. Maybe Snape had been right. Maybe he was simply crying because he didn't let himself feel much sadness during the war or before it.
The sound of steam hissing from the kettle drew Harry's gaze as Snape rose to replenish their cups. With a flick of his wand, hot water poured from the spout, gently mingling with the lavender tea pods to release their soothing scent into the air. A soft clink echoed as Snape added three-quarters of another calming draught to Harry's cup and the remainder to his own. Harry noticed that Snape made sure to add in the three sugar cubes into his steaming tea, taking the time to stir it slowly. Harry felt it then, that rush of emotions pushing back up to the surface. His green eyes glistened, a deep sense of appreciation washing over him.
"Thanks," Harry said as clearly as he could when Snape handed him his cup.
Thanks for bearing the Crucio. Thanks for staying loyal to the Order when you could've turned back at any point and rejoined forces with Voldemort. Thanks for still loving my mum, even though she chose my dad. Thanks for protecting me all these years, for making me tea 'with too much sugar' and being here now.
Harry's chest tightened, his feelings at war once again. The thoughts he had kept quiet in his bedroom stirred within him, nudging him to just say it. Snape had told him a month ago, that night by the fire, that he loved his mother and had grown to care for him too. Why was it so bloody difficult to admit the same thing?
"Would you like to continue our conversation from earlier? You insinuated that your emotions have deeper roots than your past burdens," Snape said, resettling into his seat across from Harry. "I am here to listen, perhaps provide some insight if I'm able."
Harry took a long while, his voice catching in his throat as he struggled to find the words.
He willed away the tears and shook his head. "I'm okay now, just… a lot to process. Thanks, Snape."
He couldn't tell him. It was too much. He couldn't incidentally make Snape feel obligated to stay in his life. Not after all he'd done for him for so long. Not after kneeling for torture to keep him safe. Snape was probably counting down the days till the end of this summer, till he could finally get the break he deserved from Harry and his cock-ups. Merlin, he needed to stop getting into trouble. Snape didn't deserve the headache.
"Very well then," Snape nodded, opting not to press Harry further if he preferred not to share. "If you change your mind, I am here."
Emotional matters were never his forte; navigating them, especially when it came to trauma, proved challenging. Having suppressed much of his own distress over the years out of necessity, he hardly felt qualified to provide the support Harry deserved. While the book he purchased on adolescent development had offered some insight, he needed to better equip himself to help Harry properly.
"We may move forward from this conversation," Snape stated, his tone carrying a blend of authority and understanding. "However, I'd like you to remember that emotions during discipline do not make a person weak. I expect you to express yourself, Harry. Tonight's reprimand may not have been as physically taxing, but it was still a continuation of your punishment nonetheless."
Harry nodded, his face growing just slightly pink.
"What a different mindset than the one from our Occlumency lessons, eh?" He replied, drinking down a gulp of tea. He'd only meant it to lighten the mood, but Snape's expression grew serious.
"Yes, well, I admit that I told you the exact opposite when prepping you to close off your mind to the Dark Lord," Snape pinched the bridge of his large nose, the vivid memory of own words coming back to him in a flash.
He realized it must be a challenge for Harry to understand. His position on emotions during chastisement versus what he'd hammered into his head those exhausting nights in the dungeon.
"The Dark Lord was a creature that preyed upon anything he could find to break a person—to destroy them. Especially emotions. I wanted to instill the seriousness of who he was in you; but admittedly, I failed at providing you with proper training."
"No, Snape. I," Shit, Harry wanted to kick himself. Why did he always manage to say the wrong thing at the wrong time? "I deserved to be kicked out after looking at your memories. We could've gotten somewhere if I hadn't cocked that up."
"Perhaps," Snape interlaced his fingers on the table, "however, as for ending our lessons, there were far better ways I could have disciplined you as opposed to taking away a defense you urgently needed. I regret that, you must know."
Brilliant, Harry had been desperate to thank Snape for all he'd done for him over the course of his life. To tell him that he got emotional during punishments because he hated letting him down. Because he felt close to Snape now– allowed to let all his feelings out, but instead, he'd managed to dredge up their bloody past. Hauling up those awful memories and deep regrets they both carried.
"Well," come on, think, say something to undo this. "We, er… that… the training is in the past. I was a prick for looking either way."
"Yes, you were." Snape agreed with a faint smirk, "but so was I." He nearly decided not to say his next words, but given his appreciation for the character Harry possessed he added: "I've come to find this summer that the proverbial apple couldn't have fallen farther from the tree in terms of humility between you and your father."
"Yeah?" A smile crossed Harry's lips. He felt a sigh of relief hearing Snape say so. It was the first time they'd mentioned his father since the end of the war. The first time Snape had told him he wasn't a carbon copy of the man. "I'm, um, glad I didn't end up like him. He wasn't the best."
Snape nearly felt guilty to hear Harry say it. Nearly. Though he'd tried for years to convince him of the person James had been, he reluctantly figured it wouldn't be fair to pass on his loathing to Harry now. James was the boy's father after all, he would have loved Harry. No doubt.
"You would've known him far differently than I. Perhaps… he changed over the years." Snape managed to force out. It was the right thing to say, he knew, based on the instant lift in Harry's demeanor. Snape leaned back in his chair, glancing out the circular window above the sink. "I think I'll start preparations for the disposal of a few draughts tonight. If you care to put some trousers on, you're welcome to accompany me."
Harry glanced down then, realizing he was still in his pants. He couldn't help but chuckle, standing up from the table with Snape.
"It's not like they're y-fronts," Harry intoned playfully, "not sure why you care either. Seeing as you have no problem seeing my arse, not sure what the problem is with my knees."
"I hold the same indifference," Snape remarked, his tone laced with a hint of dry amusement. "However, it would be rather nonsensical for half your legs to be exposed to the elements, especially considering the hazardous ingredients I've got brewing. You understand, you exhaustively cheeky boy?"
Harry chuckled and turned to walk up stairs but stopped when his track pants flew into the kitchen and smacked him in the face.
"Nice one, that," he mock scowled at Snape's drawn wand. "Still keeping up on your spells, I see."
"Stop misbehaving and perhaps you may use them again," Snape retorted, heading into the pantry to collect his bottle of whisky. He needed it. Especially after admitting that James Potter 'may have changed'. What aheap of absolute rubbish.
"I knew that's why you were making me do all these chores by hand." Harry grumbled sliding on the soft fabric and letting the waistband snap into place on his hips. "Three smackings and no magic stretches the concept of 'strict', Snape."
"Not hardly, Harry. But in any case, I was merely being facetious about your spells," Snape pulled the cork of the bottle out with a soft pop and took down two short glasses from the cupboard. "Completing tasks by hand is something I've directed you to do in an effort to increase your mindfulness."
"Mindfulness?" Harry parroted, trailing into the living room in hunt of a pair of slippers. "Why do you want me to be mindful?"
Snape prepped the glasses and waited for Harry to pad back into the kitchen, slippers on, before answering.
"Because," he said, pouring the liquor in with a satisfying glug. "Practicing intentional awareness is beneficial. When you take time to focus on your surroundings, or in this instance the chores I've assigned, you are actively increasing self-awareness. Which, over time, ought to lead to better decision-making and reduced impulsivity."
"Huh," Harry took the offered drink from Snape and followed him over to the back door. "I think you should just use mindfulness to discipline me then, if it does all that."
"Hm, I think not," Snape drawled, a faint smirk curling his lips as he opened the back door. "I'm afraid neither you nor any Muggle book on adolescent development can dispute my belief in the efficacy of a well-deserved smack to the backside when warranted."
"Brilliant," Harry quipped, his tone laced with sarcasm. The door fell shut behind them with a clink.
Despite the later hour, the night air felt comfortably cool— wrapping around the pair as they walked side by side. Harry took a sip from his glass, content to taste the sweetness of the fizzy drink easing the bitter bite of the liquor on his tongue. The dirt crunched beneath their feet, ice clinking in their glasses. Harry soon stepped into the potions storage after Snape, watching the man light the candles across the tables with a flick of his wand. With another effortless wave, Snape summoned a cloak from a nearby dowel. It fell softly onto Harry's shoulders.
"Don't get cheeky with me about it." Snape instructed, his voice carrying a tone of practicality as he scanned the shelf of dry ingredients. "It gets cool out here and your shirt is worn so thin, it's scarcely there."
Harry rolled his eyes but yielded to the comfort of the cloak as it enveloped his shoulders, offering a warm embrace.
Time stretched on as the pair drank and talked casually about the future. Snape set up various cauldrons and tools, listening as Harry chatted on about the Auror program. He explained what intrigued him most and Snape kept his sarcasm mostly at bay. Without meaning to, he even found himself testing Harry with hypothetical scenarios— inventing dangerous situations that Harry could run into while pursuing Dark wizards. Harry loved that. He covertly relished suggesting the first 'reckless' action that came to mind, suppressing laughter as Snape's face contorted in criticism, scolding him for not 'considering additional options'. It became a bit of a game, one that Harry found quite enjoyable.
Hours later, when Snape flicked his wand to extinguish the final candle and shut the door with a resounding thud behind them, Harry silently sent a thanks up to his mum. She'd picked a good person to be her friend, all those years ago.
"Thanks for tonight." Harry said, the slight haze of liquor easing his discomfort around the whole thing. "For listening to me when I went on and on upstairs about everything."
"You needn't thank me." Snape replied, his tone thoughtful. "It is no trouble nor obligation to speak with you about such things."
As they walked side by side, Snape wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. "You no longer need to bear the burden of such experiences alone, Harry." He began, his voice calm and hushed. "Whenever you need guidance or a person to listen to you, I am here. Alright?"
Harry smiled, fresh tears threatening his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, feeling a sense of comfort like never before. "That means a lot."
Hermione took a deep breath, combing her fingers through her knotted locks of curls. She'd slipped out early from the Burrow that morning and arrived at Professor McGonagall's office determined. A bit disheveled from her hurry, but unfazed, nonetheless. The potion would keep Ron sleeping for a few more hours, giving her the time to sort this whole mess out for herself.
"Here you are," McGonagall said, extending out four tightly wrapped scrolls. "To my knowledge they are each up to date."
"Thank you," Hermione smiled, taking a sip of the tea the magical pot had summoned her. "I won't be long."
"By all means, take your time," McGonagall replied warmly, adjusting the wide brim of her hat. "Your research sounds most intriguing. I would be keen to hear your comparisons when I manage to find a free moment amidst all this chaos."
"That would be lovely," Hermione said. "Good luck with your meetings today."
"Thank you, dear."
McGonagall was off then, with a call over her shoulder that she'd be back later that afternoon if Hermione had any further questions about the 'historical and psychological values' of each Hogwarts house.
Hermione thanked her and popped the Slytherin seal, unrolling the aged parchment with a knot in her stomach.
So had been a little white lie, her reason for requesting the records—records she knew held the answer to her burning question. It had dawned on her last night with a memory of a letter sent from her parent's during her first-year, expressing their enthusiasm over her sort into Gryffindor. They had received a copy of everything she could expect as a student entering the house of the brave and were pleased to write back with their approval. She vividly recalled their praise over the values of her new house, which became her excuse to Professor McGonagall today. She couldn't very well tell her that she needed to know about discipline in Slytherin, could she? What if the headmistress casually mentioned it to Professor Snape? That wouldn't do.
After skimming through the house traits, values, and history, Hermione's nail froze, hovering beneath the start of lines she hoped not to find:
Discipline is to be administered through the application of corporal punishment, prioritizing it over detentions and loss of house points, all in strict adherence to Wizarding guidelines, approved and regulated by the headmaster or headmistress. For reference, the following tomes are recommended:
"The Wand and The Willow: A History of Discipline in Wizarding Education" by Eldritch Evershade.
"Hard Lines and Harmony: Defining Discipline and Education in the Wizarding World" by Orion Nightshade.
"Magical Misdemeanors: A Professor's Guide to Managing Misbehavior" by Evangeline Darkwood.
Parents and guardians averse to such methods may seek counsel from Head of House, Severus Snape, to explore alternative disciplinary measures for students requiring exception.
Pinching her eyes shut briefly, Hermione let out a pent sigh. So, now what?
"I feel a bit like a cheat," Harry said, shrinking down the paper bag of black tea leaves and stuffing them into his pocket.
Snape arched an eyebrow, the enchanted door swinging out for them to exit. "And why might that be?"
"I think this is the place Hermione mentioned yesterday." Harry glanced up at the floating teapot sign. "She wanted to be the one to show it off to me and Ron."
The pair made their way down the steps of the tea house, the clacks of their shoes echoing out in the morning air.
"Let her show you then," said Snape, his eyes trained on Ashwinder's Apothecary in the distance. "It is rather easy to feign amusement, is it not?"
"Yeah, but what if the shopkeeper recognizes me and says something?"
"Choose a different glamor next time."
Oh, right, Harry thought. He'd forgotten he'd come glamored in the first place.
"Feign amusement, eh?" Harry's tone lifted, a mischievous smile permeating his words. "Sounds an awful lot like you're suggesting I lie."
"I am merely pointing out a route you might take if you wish to spare some presumed fragile feelings," said Snape, his tone sharp. "Because, clearly, the art of subtlety is long lost on you."
Harry hummed low in the back of his throat, his smirk growing. "I'm 'excluding the truth' though, aren't I? A cross wizard told me that sort of thing was as good as lying a few days ago."
Snape turned, leveling Harry with a knowing look of disapproval.
"I think he got it wrong." Harry finished, running a hand up through his wild hair. "The definition of lying, that is."
"Speaking of cross wizards," Snape deflected, pausing to search the fold of his robe, "you may have noticed we are no longer on the muggle side of this inconvenient village you insisted we venture to this morning."
"Yeah?" Harry crossed his arms, arching his brows up. "So?"
"So," Snape said very carefully, pulling out his wand. "Not a soul would look twice if I bent you over right here and gave you a few smacks for your nerve."
"What?" Harry took a step back, his face, well not really his face (as he currently looked like a long haired Weasley sibling in his glamor) pinkend at the threat. "You wouldn't."
"Persist in your feeble attempts to twist my words against me, and you'll find out."
It sounded harsh, but judging by Snape's expression it was most certainly a bluff. Glamor or not though, Harry decided not to test him.
"Fine," Harry snipped back, ensuring he had stepped safely out of Snape's reach. "I suppose I'll settle for adding this to the list of times I've outwitted you."
Snape inclined his head, tone dropping low. "You are undoubtedly aware of the distinction between concealing the truth about your carefully planned heist to pilfer from me and the concept of sparing Miss Granger's feelings over a blasted tea house, are you not?"
"Yeah, yeah." Harry huffed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I get it."
Snape tucked his wand under his arm and interlaced his fingers behind his back, "Disappointing though, I'm sure, to leave that list of yours blank."
Harry snorted, still walking at a safe enough distance away from Snape's wand. "You just wait, I'll get you."
Snape merely chuckled, the rare sound easing the slight tension that had crept into their chat.
"Want to pop in with me?" Harry motioned up at the Wizard's Wandering Bookshop as they approached. "I need something to read at night other than your endless potion manuals and mind-numbing herbology books. Honestly, Snape, you could take a break from serious literature every once and while. You're as bad as Hermione."
"No, I need to stop at the apothecary. You go on," Snape nodded towards the bookshop. "Perhaps they house texts juvenile enough for your taste. I suppose it would be beneficial for you to actually read as opposed to stare through the pages night after night."
Harry scowled and Snape smirked, "I shall reconvene with you inside. We need to leave shortly for that last errand I mentioned."
"Right, the house thing," Harry waved over his shoulder and trekked up the floating steps to the bookshop. "See you in a bit."
Observing the mostly empty shop, Harry took off his glamor with a swish of his wand, feeling relieved as the long hair disappeared from the back of his neck. At least without Snape around, he wouldn't mind being recognized as much.
"Bother," sighed the diminutive clerk, her expression contorted in annoyance. "Looks like I'll have to inspect the back myself for that one. As they say, the thicker the book, the thicker the clerk. I wouldn't be surprised if one of my lads misplaced it in the anti-accio area."
"I hardly want to trouble you for it," Hermione began before the clerk silenced her with a quick wave of her hand.
"Nonsense. You wait right here, and I'll fetch it for you."
Hermione thanked her, watching the small woman bustle away through the quaint shop. She loved this place. It held a magical touch that surpassed any other bookshop she'd been to in neighboring towns. Enchanted windows emitted a soft glow, lining each section of the shop. Customers were peering into the world of their chosen books simply by reciting the incantation written beneath the windowsill and tapping their wand to the spine. It was lovely looking over to the children's section and watching parents set up their little ones' chosen novels. Windows transformed into portholes peering into seas and lakes. Others danced with fairies and strange magical creatures that Hermione had never seen before.
She smiled to herself then glanced down at the books in her arms. Maybe she'd start with The Wand and The Willow. The cover moved with an animated life of its own. A silhouette of a witch strode from the left of the book across to the right, towards the base of a willow tree. Hermione knit her brows, watching the little figure cut a few willow branches down and head back to the spine of the book, where a castle-like school reminiscent of Hogwarts stood.
How odd, she thought.
"Fancy running into you here, of all places," the familiar voice behind her nearly made her jump out of her skin. Oh no— no, she panicked. Hermione spun around, whipping the books behind her back in the process.
"Harry!" She let out a startled gasp. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Just walked up now," he said, eyeing her suspiciously. "What's with the books? Getting yourself a little romance novel, are you?" He teased, a wide smirk spreading across his face.
"Um," she was still too stunned to really offer any sensible retort, much less laugh off the ridiculous insinuation. "Yes."
"Yes?"
"Yes, I'm getting romance novels. I'd rather you not see the covers actually, so… run along."
Before the clerk comes back.
"You're not serious," Harry laughed and motioned for her to hand over the books behind her back, "Come on then, let's have a look."
"No," Hermione exclaimed, pressing her back into a floating shelf. "No. Really, Harry. I'd rather not show you."
"Alright, alright," Harry said, holding up his hands, "no need to get your wand in a twist. I'm only having a bit of fun."
"Miss, excuse me… miss," the charmed bookend, a girl holding novels up with an umbrella, wagged a finger up at Hermione from her resting place on the shelf. "No leaning, please."
"Sorry," Hermione flashed an apologetic smile down. "What book are you after, Harry?"
"Something interesting." Harry shrugged and peered around the floating section signs. "Snape's got loads to read but unless I want to become a potions master or herbologist, they're rather boring."
"Why don't you go check out," Hermione froze, hearing the sound of the clerks' heels tapping in her direction. "Come on, let's go find you something."
For the next fifteen minutes Hermione towed Harry all over the bookshop, distancing herself from the sound of the hurried clerk each time she heard her coming. The woman was relentless, honestly why was she so determined?
"Hermione!" Harry finally grabbed her elbow, "I need at least a minute to listen to the spelled summary if I'm not going to read it for myself."
Hermione stopped, huffing from all the scurrying around the shop. She had the books pressed as tightly as possible to her chest, her arms covering the backs as best she could. She was certain Harry hadn't seen them as she'd been very clear he wasn't to look when she moved them from behind her back to her front after her arms started cramping. The fact that he actually seemed to believe they were romance novels, of all things, was absolutely insulting. But, at least it worked. Hermione didn't hear the clicks of the clerk yet, so she scanned a few floating shelves behind Harry.
"Why don't you have a look at those?" She nodded to the books behind him.
He flashed her an incredulous expression, "Delightful Divination? I might as well be reading about potions."
"Considering you've been prowling the shop for over twenty minutes with nothing to show," said a deep voice from behind them, "it appears potions are exactly what you'll be reading about."
Hermione pressed the books even tighter to her chest. Lovely, just my luck. "Good morning, Professor Snape."
"So it is," Snape gave her a polite nod then raised a brow up at Harry. "Nothing for your taste in this entire building? Surely they have picture books."
"If I hadn't been hauled from section to section, I'd have found something," Harry flashed Hermione a bristled look. "Give me a minute," he told Snape, "I think I spotted a book on Quidditch a few rows back."
Harry walked away then, not feeling the least bit sorry for leaving Hermione with an impatient Snape after all her exhaustive efforts to 'shew' him into different areas before he had a real chance to find something to read. She was acting awfully strange today. Maybe it had to do with those heavy books in her arms, which he wasn't at all convinced were romance novels. Considering how huge they looked. And well, it was Hermione after all.
"You and Harry are out rather early," Hermione noted, glancing uncomfortably up at Snape.
Before he could respond though, the clerk, whom Hermione desperately wanted to avoid, in that moment especially, popped into view.
"There you are!" She let out an exhale and clicked l over to Hermione and Snape in fast strides. "You know, typically when I tell a customer to 'wait right here', they don't go breezing about the entire shop."
"Oh, I'm sorry… I— um," No, no, no, no.
"No matter, dear. It took some hunting, but I've located it." The clerk proudly extended the book to a flustered Hermione. "One copy of "Hard Lines and Harmony: Defining Discipline and Education in the Wizarding Realm" by Orion Nightshade, himself." The clerk tapped the cover, "It was a tough find, that."
Snape's dark gaze slid down to the book now extended out between them. For a moment Hermione just stared at the cover, wishing the thing would come to life and eat her. She shifted the other two books in her arms and accepted the large tome.
"Thank you, I," Hermione swallowed thickly, "I'm sorry to have put you through so much trouble."
"Oh, it's perfectly alright. You know, it's often the lads who —"
"Oi! Oi!" An enchanted goose bookend honked, "We've got an Accio cast in the sports sections."
The clerk looked up just in time to see a string of books flying through the air.
"Immobilis!" She enchanted, nearly whacking Snape with her wand and freezing the downpour of literature. "Ruddy hell," she muttered, adjusting her robes and shaking her head. "Case and point," she motioned to the sea of frozen books, "it's the lads who never read the blasted signs and give me a spot of bother every day."
She turned to go but paused again, motioning up to the books in Hermione's arms. "Good books, those. If more witches and wizards would keep to the method, my life would be less of a headache."
Then she was off. Off to chew out one naughty boy who clearly missed (or rather disregarded) the 'Ask, Don't Accio' sign.
A moment of silence fell between Snape and Hermione. And oh, it was dreadfully uncomfortable for her.
"Well," Snape motioned to the familiar three books in her arms, breaking the hush. "Quite the intriguing selection for your summer reading, Miss Granger."
"These?" Think, think, think. "Oh, I'm just gathering material… for, um, a debate I'm having with Ron."
"Is that so?" Snape raised a brow.
"Yes," Hermione straightened her shoulders, tucking the books back to her chest. "I was raised muggle without corporal punishment, and he was raised wizard with it… so we're debating parenting styles for the future."
"I see," Snape drawled, turning to look down the row of floating shelves. "I presume then you are arguing against Weasley? Given your upbringing."
"Yes," Hermione said, her palms starting to sweat. "I don't believe this sort of discipline could be good for people. For children." She corrected hastily.
"So naturally," Snape continued, unfazed. "You're purchasing a carefully selected group of books in favor of it?"
"Well," Hermione looked away from his pointed gaze, the tops of her cheeks growing rosy. "The best way to defend yourself in an argument is to know the counter position thoroughly."
"Soundly reasoned, I suppose." Snape hummed low, collecting a Divination book from the lowest shelf. "How exactly did you come across this highly specific culmination of texts on Weasley's position?"
He knows. Hermione started racking her brain for something to say that would make sense. "His aunt recommended them to me. She's a professor at Beauxbatons."
Merlin, that wasn't sound. Not at all. Why'd I say that? Does Ron even have an aunt?
"How strange," Snape snapped the Divination book shut after a long moment of skimming. "Considering the nature of your debate, I presume she would have directed you towards material on Wizarding parenting. Not guidelines for discipline in the school system."
"Yes, I…. I thought it was rather odd too," Hermione said, tapping her fingers along the spine of a book. "But she doesn't have children of her own so this is what she's most familiar with."
Snape studied Hermione for a moment, a faint look of amusement crossing his features.
"If you wouldn't mind not mentioning these to Harry," Hermione shifted the books in her hands, dropping her voice to a low whisper. "He might tell Ron, you see. And I, well I'd rather he not know that I'm doing so much research."
Silence persisted as Snape considered her ask.
"Research for the debate," Hermione added, running her finger along the spine of the top book in her hand.
"Yes, I'm sure you'd rather keep this subset of exploration to yourself," he eventually said, sliding the Divination book back down to its proper resting place.
Hermione stared at him for a moment, thinking. Well he'd likely caught onto the lie, no doubt about that. But he seemed… decent about it. He wasn't sneering or threatening or condescending. His expression was relaxed, amiable even.
"Mmhm," Hermione shifted the heavy books in her arms, watching him closely.
Snape gave her a look that she couldn't quite discern, his dark eyes gliding back to the floating shelves.
"It looks like the clerk got the mess over there sorted," Hermione said, attempting to fill the uncomfortable silence.
Thankfully, Harry popped around the corner just then. Clearly miffed.
"You would've thought I cast an unforgivable curse with the way she went on," he whispered, tucking two thin books under his arm. "What sort of bloody magical bookshop doesn't let a person use magic to find the book they want?"
"One that would like to avoid the liability of their merchandise spiraling about the room like a storm conjured by a thunderbird." Snape retorted, in his typical chastising tone. "Come, we are going to be late. Miss Granger," he nodded, "best of luck in your… research." He stepped past Harry and Hermione, heading with purpose towards the front of the shop.
"I knew those weren't romance novels," Harry motioned down to the books mashed tightly against her chest. "You can tell me ya know, it's not like I'll tell Ron if you've taken an interest in spiders or something."
Brilliant, now she had to come up with another lie.
"You spoil everything," Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not giving you a hint at… your birthday present."
Birthday present? Harry furrowed his brows. "Oh, um. Sorry, I didn't realize… you could've said that earlier." His green eyes narrowed in suspicion.
He leaned in but Hermione pulled away, keeping the books hidden from his prying gaze.
"Harry," Snape's low voice carried over rows of floating shelves. "I am going to depart without you if you're not to me in one minute."
"He can be such a git," Harry whispered as quietly as possible, making Hermione laugh as he walked away. "I'll see you, Hermione."
"Bye," she said, relieved.
"Oh and," Harry popped his head back around the corner. "Thanks for thinking of me. I'm sure whatever you've got planned is great. You really don't have to do anything… especially something that requires research—"
"Harry Potter."
"I'm coming," he called back, exasperated. "Bye, I'll see you next week. We can check out that new tea shop down the road. For the first time."
Hermione nodded; her smile warm.
Harry got to the front and tossed the books on the counter, but the clerk waved him off, "They're paid for already."
"Snape," he glared over at him. "Stop doing that."
"Hasten to the counter next time I tell you to."
By the time Harry reached Snape, they were gone in a blinding flash. Leaving Hermione to head up to the register a few minutes later.
"Three school discipline books?"
"Yes," Hermione said pleasantly, setting the heavy texts down with a thud. She reached into her pocket for the proper funds.
"They're paid for," said the clerk, adding one more book to the top of a stunned Hermione's pile. "This one too."
"The Art of Discerning Dishonest Witches and Wizards" by Orion Nightshade.
Author's notes: Happy Monday night loves! This chapter was one of my favorites to write by far. Thank you to everyone who has left me such warm and thoughtful comments each chapter, it truly fuels the love I have for this story by tenfold! Have a fantastic week & thank you once more for your patience following some of these prolonged updates. It's comforting to know you're still reading along even if I have to take a bit more time to get each update posted. Much love, as always!
LadyVader Francy1: Thank you for your wonderful comment on chapter 33! I was thrilled to see that you finished the story so quickly. Your kind words about my writing style truly touched my heart 3. I hope you keep enjoying the story!
Hamlet: I always look forward to your fabulous reviews! I was touched that you let me know you were going away on holiday in case I posted when you were gone. I hope you had good time! Your encouragement to prioritize my mental health and family time was much needed & appreciate. Taking more time in between updating has helped stoke the creative spark for this story. Thank you for staying the course and always sharing your thoughts with me! I'm delighted to know you enjoyed the cozy vibe of the last chapter. Writing Harry and Snape's banter has been so fun. They're finally at a place where they can be more of their authentic selves with each other. Glad you're enjoying it! Happy to know you liked Snape's drying smell trick ;) loved, loved, loved, reading your thoughts on what might be coming down the pipe soon for Ron & Harry & Snape. Have a wonderful week! Thank you again
FanRubyB: Thank you for commenting! Your kind words on my witting skill brought the biggest smile to my face. It's so validating to know the emotions are coming across authentically and you are liking the pacing as well! I appreciate the enthusiasm so much. :)
Ava: Ah, I loved your last two comments! I can't believe you spent the whole day reading through chapter 33, then came back to share more of your thoughts for 34. You're the best! The 'you're in trouble' sinking sort of feeling was my goal for the tone of these punishment scenes and I'm thrilled to know you felt it. Harry has certainly been through a lot, I agree. Your reflections on how he feels with Snape setting boundaries is spot on. Bedtime spankings are tough, aren't they? The anticipation/wait is the worst for Harry, I think. His last one is in chapter 35– the next update :) Thank you again for your support!
Guest: I reread your comment more than once because I was so touched to know the last chapter brought you to tears. Thank you so incredibly much for sharing that with me! It is music to an author's ears to know the emotions are translating the intended way. I hope you continue to love the story!
Liseyloo123: Gosh, your comment made my whole week! I can't thank you enough :') The fact that this chapter brought you to tears with Harry truly touched me. I loved your use of Ron's 'bloody brilliant', lol! Thank you! The fact that you've taken time to review per chapter when you normally wait to the end is so wonderful. I'm thrilled to know the story has you captivated, and I hope it continues to hold your attention! It's lovely to know that you don't think you'll ever tire of it, ah, I'm so happy. Thank you once more :)
DMLucas: So great to hear from you! I was excited to see your name come up in my notifications box. No worries at all about the time in between your reviews. I'm always astounded by the thought and reflection you put into your comments. It's wonderful to know the last chapter was your favorite thus far. Your thoughts on the plot were lovely to read; I especially liked your point about Snape teaching unconditional acceptance to Harry. That was so well put! To another point of yours, yes, Harry does finally feel safe to cry in the supportive environment with Snape. I loved your reflections on that as well. I was touched by your compliments on my ability to capture the nuances of teenage and adult emotions. I'm twenty-five, so my own teenage experiences still feel recent enough to resonate with some of those intense feelings. Then on the other hand, being halfway to thirty, I think I'm gaining a better understanding of portraying the emotions of older adults as well. I'm a people person at heart, and psychology has always been a love of mine, so exploring themes like these is a joy. Thank you for your kind words and appreciation for my writing! It's always fantastic to hear from you and read your analysis of the characters.
MusicMelis: I always look forward to your comments! I'm thrilled that you enjoyed the last chapter. Exploring Snape in a more paternal role has been incredibly rewarding. Half the time, I find myself wanting to hug Harry too after writing these scenes. Balancing Snape's character without becoming too OOC due to the affection I believe Harry needs can be challenging lol. I hope you appreciated the twists and turns in this last chapter with Hermione! It was a joy to write. Have a wonderful week! Thank you again :)