Severus Snape strode dangerously along the corridor that led to his dungeon. His robes were bellowing with unusual vigor, and he gave his head an occasional, vicious snap to flick the hair from his eyes.

Potter was waiting for him in the classroom. He'd deliberately kept the boy waiting twenty minutes; enough time, Snape thought, for him to have worked up a fine nervous tension.

He flung the door open with a resounding clash-the boy leapt, startled. His face was slightly swollen, eyes red. He was, no doubt, mourning the loss of his wretched godfather. He was clad in his pajamas, as he had been when Snape had fired called him from his dorm room at ten o'clock. He had wanted to transact this business in private, and anyway, had the idea that Potter would not be asleep.

"Why are we here, Mr. Potter?"

Harry jerked with shock. He hadn't had much sleep since Sirius… A tear slowly ran down his cheek and he wiped it, impatient.

"Because of what happened. At the Shack." Snape nodded. Potter looked awful. On closer inspection, he had dark circles under his eyes and he looked as though his hands were shaking a little. Blasted brat. He was holding his grief over Black inside and it was eating at him. Snape couldn't have cared less, naturally; he was only worried about what Lily would have thought had he let her son suffer this way.

"That's correct. Not only did you disobey and sneak out of the castle, you endangered yourself and your friends, you sought out a dangerous criminal," he held up a hand to silence Harry's protests, "You stunned me when I came to help you, and almost got yourself killed by a werewolf. Is that all?"

Harry pulled himself up to his full height and snapped "Sirius wasn't.."

"Did you know that at the time? You were going to kill him, were you not?"

Harry nodded. Tired, so tired. He wanted to sleep but he couldn't. When he tried to sleep, he saw the Dementors, crowded about Sirius, sucking his soul.

"I see. Professor Dumbledore and I had words about this tonight. I have finally convinced him that his detentions and house points simply aren't enough for you. A more personal touch is required for our Mr. Potter. It would seem the Boy Who Lived is too special even for something as basic as COMMON BLOODY SENSE!" He yelled the last few words, pleased that Potter looked suitably afraid. "Your parents died for you, boy. You seem determined to throw that gift away. Lily Evans was the finest witch I ever knew. You may not care whether her death was in vain, but I do."

The conversation had taken a painful turn. Harry felt more tears building and shoved them down. His insides were twisting and jerking.

"What are you going to do?"

Snape smiled a singularly unpleasant smile. "I believe," he said silkily, "Steps should be made to see that the punishment fits the crime." He clamped a hard hand around Potter's bicep, and drug him outside.

Harry was barely aware they were moving until the cold air of the outside hit his face. He allowed Snape to drag him along, muttering about idiot children, until, to his shock, they stood right in front of the Whomping Willow.

Snape threw the stone and disabled the thing handily. It stopped it's menacing whirling and the Potion's Master grabbed a low branch. "Pick one."

As though in a dream, Harry picked a branch and handed it to the teacher. Snape examined it quickly, nodded to himself, and began dragging Harry back to the school. He was more awake this time, and wondered why Snape would ask a student he didn't like to help him harvest Potion's ingredients, and especially, what Potion requires a willow branch. A sudden thought, ridiculous and yet strangely compelling, popped into his head. Harry shoved it away and simply concentrated on keeping up.

Back in the classroom, Snape set to work peeling the branch, carefully stripping the bark as well as the leaves and twigs. He had every intention of teaching the boy a lesson, but he didn't want to scar him or draw blood. Harry watched him with dull, unseeing eyes.

Obviously had no idea what was going to happen, at least this time. Spoiled brat had never been punished properly in his life, that much was certain, or else he would never have dared pull such a stupid, reckless stunt. Just thinking about it made Snape's blood boil anew.

He summoned his chair and sat down in it, holding the willow switch in his hand.

"Come here, Potter." Harry didn't like the looks of this a bit. He shuffled over, uncertain. Surely Snape would not…He couldn't possibly….Dumbledore would never let him…

"Pull down your trousers and lie over my knee."

Harry paled at once. Snape had to admit that it was nearly funny, watching the boy comprehend what was going to happen. "You can't.."

"No? Dumbledore seems to think I can. Would you argue with Albus Dumbledore?"

Harry seemed frozen in place. He wanted to move, to protest, but his body wouldn't obey. Instead, traitorously, it hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sleep pants and jerked them to his knees. He had never been smacked before, didn't know where Snape wanted him.

Snape guided him over his lap, careful not to hurt him. He even took Potter's glasses and carefully folded them and put them on the desk behind him, not wanting him to thrash so hard they flew off his face.

He put one arm around the boy's waist and used the other to tug his shorts to his knees atop with his sleep pants.

This provoked a reaction. Potter squeaked, unable to conscience being half nude before his teacher. "Please, professor-- "

Snape ignored him and raised the switch. It slid through the air with a soft 'swisssh', and  struck Harry right where he sat. An instant later, he stiffened, cried out. "Oww!"

Harry was shocked. It didn't just hurt. It bloody well HURT! He couldn't help it. He cried out each time the switch fell, because it felt like a very thin line of fire was being burned onto his backside at every stroke.

"What are you being spanked for, Potter?"

Harry squirmed. "Because I stunned you ahhhh, it hurts!"

Snape had to smile a little, times change but the reaction of a child under a switch was not one of those things. He raised the switch and began a new set of stripes, these more toward the center. Harry sucked in air and Snape steeled himself for the barrage of howls and screams to follow. Instead, the boy seemed to be holding his breathe, an act of direct defiance, and Snape decided to quell by it making his blows quicker and harder.

"It's going to hurt more, because we aren't half done. What else did you do?"

Harry was struggling to not sob. "I tried to f-find Sirius. I went to Hogsmeade (owwww!) I went after Lupin even though I knew it was (ouch, please!) dangerous. I almost got Ron and 'Mione hurt, and I snuck out, even though (yowww!) we were suppose to be inside."

Snape slowed a little. "That's right. You were thoughtless and rude and thoroughly foolish, and I intend to make sure you think twice before you ever do anything like it again." He raised the switch and gave Harry the hardest set yet, right on the crease between bottom and thigh where he sat down. He was gratified by the result.

"OWWW, NOOOO, STOP! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll never do it agai-ahhhhhhhh! Pleeeeaasse, no more, it huurrrrts! Oww, not there, pleeeease, not theeeere! I have a test tomorroooWWW!"

Snape felt a grim sense of rightness with his actions, watching as the Boy Who Was Going to Live With a Very Sore Behind For A Few Days protest. Not so arrogant now, was he?

After a moment, Snape did stop, setting the switch aside. The boy continued to writhe, kicking, for a full minute before he realized the blaze in his behind was not being added to anymore.

Snape let him cry it out without saying anything. The sobs didn't abate-if anything, they increased. After a reluctant pause, Snape put his hand on Harry's back and began to pat.

"Alright, Mr. Potter. Calm down before you make yourself sick, won't you?"

Harry simply couldn’t stop. The dam that he had erected around all his feelings had smashed open, and now weeks worth of terror and worry were gushing out of him. He put his head down and bawled harder than he could ever remember crying.

Snape was disturbed. This wasn’t about the spanking, not anymore. He let the boy cry for another minute and, sighing, righted the brat, pulling his sleep pants up and setting him on his feet. Harry hugged himself, still crying as though his heart would break.

Snape shook his head, feeling concern despite himself. He grabbed the boy’s puny little arm and drug him, unresisting, to his office. The fire sprang to life at once, and Snape pushed the crying child down gently on the couch, then sat beside him.

“Professor, I’m s-s-orry. I’ll stop, I will, I--” Harry was torn between a desire to not seem like a bigger baby than he already did and an equal desire to let some of the agony and fear of the past few weeks drain away. He tried to stop the tears, he really did, but all he did was make himself sob harder from shame and embarrassment.

“That’s quite alright, Potter. Tell me, though, why so much fuss? “

“I don’t know, I n-n-never cry like this.” Harry buried his face in the crook of his arm and waited for the taunting to begin.

Snape cursed to himself. Damnable child, all he’d meant to do was whip him, out of respect to Lily’s memory, and then have done with it. The boy would have a sore bum to remind him to behave, and Snape could quiet the green eyed ghost that stared at him so sadly . Lily….. He swallowed hard. It always surprised him, his grief for her, still fresh and strong after all these years. It stayed buried for months, years, and then something would remind him and it was as though he had lost her only yesterday. Lily…

He attributed what he did next to his suddenly raw grief for her, the only woman he’d ever loved. He scooted to the very edge of the couch and put his arms hesitantly about the boy, who shrank back like he’d been burned. Snape blinked in shock--most children in that position would have thrown themselves wailing into the nearest adult arms for comfort.

“Potter, stop this nonsense at once. Now, boy!”

That did the trick. Harry’s tears stopped as though he had turned off a faucet, which was itself irregular. Snape had been working with children for too long not to find it even more unsettling.

“What in the world has come over you?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to cry like that, it won’t happen again.”

Snape took in the boy’s dull tone and strangely glazed eyes and made a snap decision.

“Potter, you have exactly five seconds to tell me the meaning of this, all of it. Otherwise, I’ll get the veritaserum from the Potions store and we’ll do it that way. Again, and for the last time: What is the meaning of all this?”