Harry woke up early the next morning. He hadn't slept well at all as he had been thinking about his talk with Dumbledore from the evening before and what it implied about his relationship with Snape. Quietly, in order not to wake anyone, he dressed quickly and left the dormitory. The common room was still empty when Harry passed through it.

Gathering all his courage, Harry headed for the dungeons.

A short while later Harry stood in front of Snape's office and hesitated. When he had woken up, he had just assumed that Snape would be awake already, too; he couldn't imagine Snape as someone who slept late. Now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't imagine a sleeping Snape at all. Harry suppressed a nervous giggle when he imagined Snape opening his door in striped pyjamas but pulled himself together. Professor Snape wouldn't be sleeping in his office after all, so it would be safe.

As Harry knocked, he didn't know whether to feel relieved or upset when indeed he heard footsteps approach from the inside. The door opened, and Professor Snape stood in the doorframe glowering at Harry, his brows furrowed, but he didn't say anything.  

He doesn't exactly seem like a morning person, Harry thought anxiously.  He took deep breaths as he concentrated on getting a grip.

‘Erm...good morning, sir,' he began awkwardly. ‘Sorry for bothering you so early, but I just wanted to ask, erm, can I talk to you ... please?'

Not saying a word, Snape just stepped aside to let Harry pass. Silently he pointed to the chair in front of his desk before he settled behind it, picking up his mug of steaming tea that rested beside a huge stack of essays.  He took a great gulp before setting his mug down and glancing at Harry, who was fidgeting in his chair.

‘What could have possibly brought you here at this early hour, Potter?' he inquired.

Harry drew in a deep breath. Although he had thought a lot about this conversation during the night, the words weren't flowing as easily as they had at a safe distance from his teacher. He forced himself to look into Snape's eyes.

‘Sir, I wanted to thank you ... for healing Malfoy. I'm glad it was you who came in; I don't know if many people would have been able to perform the countercurse so quickly, and if you hadn't, well I'd probably be in Azkaban right now,' he said in a small voice and looked down at his hands, unable to stand Snape's eyes boring into his any longer.

Harry continued, only to break the awkward silence.

‘And yesterday, in the Defence lesson, when I had my eyes closed, it wasn't that I didn't care, it really wasn't!' he said, looking up again. ‘It was just when you spoke about wounds caused by Dark magic it all came back to me, and I realized for the first time that I really needed to thank you for saving Malfoy, well.. and me as well,' he finished.

Snape still remained silent, taking another sip of his tea. Lowering the cup once more, he began to speak in a quiet, slightly sarcastic voice.

‘You should know that had it been another teacher who found you, it is not very probable that you would have received a caning as it was I who persuaded the headmaster.  He was very reluctant about the whole matter. Did you realize?'

Harry was a bit taken aback. Couldn't this man just simply accept an honest thanks?  Snape expected an answer, though.

‘No, sir, I didn't know. But I guessed it. And I still prefer it this way to being responsible for Malfoy's death...' he replied indignantly. ‘Besides,' he added as an afterthought and swallowed, ‘it's my own fault that I suffered longer from it than necessary. It was stupid of me not to come to you yesterday and let you heal me.'

There. He had said it.

Snape nodded. ‘All right, Potter. Is there anything else?'

Harry hesitated. ‘Erm... yes maybe...  About my punishment from yesterday...'

‘What about it?'

Harry inwardly sighed.  Snape's attitude definitely wasn't helping!

‘I was wondering when you were going to do it, and...' He swallowed audibly. ‘...what you plan on doing...'

Snape raised his eyebrows, and his lips twitched slightly. ‘I think you do know rather well what I am intending to do, Potter, don't you?'

Harry felt his stomach contract. ‘I think so, but couldn't you think of something else, though?' he muttered, noticing angrily that he was blushing again.

His teacher considered him for a moment. ‘Perhaps I could...  But I will not. Potter, you cannot complain that you haven't been warned. However, if you want I can also drag you to the headmaster once more, tell him about everything and leave it up to him to deal with you. Whichever you prefer.' He looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry had already done plenty of thinking during the night. He didn't want to face Dumbledore and tell him that he had intended to keep the book after everything that had happened.  And he also felt ashamed that he was in trouble again so soon, only one night after the headmaster had considered the talk about punishments a mere theoretic debate. He had also given consideration to Dumbledore's deep thoughts about humiliation.  Meeting Snape's eyes, he looked intently into his face, relieved to find no trace of malice. Harry made up his mind and shook his head miserably.

‘No, sir, I don't want you to take me to Professor Dumbledore again. So, when are you going to do it?'

Snape gave him a thoughtful look. ‘What about doing it now?'

Harry flinched. ‘Erm ... Could you heal me before?' he asked hesitantly.

Snape nodded and stood up. He accio'ed a small jar from the shelf behind Harry and walked around the desk.

‘Drop your trousers, Potter,' he said simply. His face was unreadable.

Harry stood up and, a little hesitantly, bared his backside. Then he turned around to let his teacher have a look at it. He had checked in the dormitory when getting up and knew that there was still enough to see. The weals had faded somewhat but were still visible, and his bruises had just changed their colour.

It was a while before Snape spoke again.

‘Tell me Potter, do you enjoy playing the martyr?'

As Harry couldn't see his teacher's face, he didn't quite know what to make of this question.

‘No, I don't!' he answered indignantly.

‘I see. What, may I ask, is your reason for running around like this any longer than you have to?'

Harry didn't know how to answer, he definitely didn't want to quote Ron about Snape massaging salve onto his naked arse being too intimate, so he evaded the question by muttering ‘It's what every Muggle would have to go through...'

Snape just snorted.

Harry felt his teacher's cool fingers smearing the salve onto his backside. All of a sudden his buttocks became very cold, then very hot for a moment until his skin became tepid again. Then he heard Snape mutter a healing spell repeatedly, causing a short prickling sensation. After that, Harry felt nothing.

Snape sent the jar magically back to the shelf and said ‘Get dressed, Potter, and sit down to see if you are completely healed.'

Harry did as he was told. In fact, he allowed himself to drop into the chair rather than sitting down carefully, as he had gotten used to during the last two days. There was no pain at all anymore.

‘Feeling good as new, I take it?' Snape inquired, raising an eyebrow.

The boy nodded. ‘Yeah, thanks,' he muttered.

‘Ready for the next round, then, Potter?'

Harry flinched. How he hated Snape's sarcasm! He felt the nervousness rise inside him once more but forced himself to stand up and say ‘Yes, sir.'

‘All right, let's go into the classroom then,' Snape said and swept over to the door. Harry tried to tell himself that he should be glad that his punishment was beginning, but another part of him felt it had been a mistake to go and see Snape before breakfast. He drew in a deep, shaky breath and followed his teacher to the adjacent classroom.

When they entered the dark room Snape casually flicked his wand causing all of the candles on the walls to light up. Closing the door behind Harry, just like the time before, he locked it, put silencing charms on it and with another flick of his wand, increased the height of the nearest desk. Then Snape walked over to the cupboard.

Without waiting for his teacher's order, Harry began fumbling with the fastenings of his robe. By the time Snape returned with the cane in hand, Harry had placed his folded robe over another desk and was holding out his wand out to Snape. He had to concentrate hard to prevent his hand from shaking, as his nervousness seemed to be increasing with every second. However, this time Harry knew to expect, and he worried less about Snape teasing him and more about the actual pain his teacher was going to cause him.

Snape pocketed Harry's wand and nodded, his face unreadable. ‘Six strokes, Potter: four for attempting to keep the book and two more for your lack of respect in class. Bend over.'

Harry pulled his shirt out of his trousers, bunching the fabric up around his waist as he assumed the all-too familiar position over the heightened desk. Clenching his teeth, he hoped that this time he would manage to keep his composure; after all Snape wasn't going to admimister as many cuts as he did last time.

Because Snape had been so angry the day before, Harry was surprised that his teacher had only assigned him two strokes for his so-called insolence, but he knew that a total of six would be hard enough to take, anyway. He heard steps behind him and closed his eyes. Dumbledore's philosophy on lack of humiliation was all very nice, but Harry couldn't help thinking that this position was highly undignified. His thoughts were interrupted by the dreaded tap of the cane on his backside.

Whoosh. Crack.

Wincing, Harry realized that it hurt just as much as he remembered from the last time. And he hated Snape's tapping and the swishing sound of the cane as they added to his anticipation of every single stroke.

‘One.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

‘Two.'

How can anybody deliver such fierce strokes and sound so calm when counting them? Harry briefly wondered before trying to concentrate on his breathing.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry gasped and noticed angrily that his eyes were filling with tears again. All right, I might cry, but I will definitely NOT sob, he told himself.

‘Three.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry gasped again and promised himself that he would choose to go to see Dumbledore for punishment in the future. Anything would be better than this!

‘Four.'

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

He couldn't help jumping from the pain of the blow. Harry squirmed on the table, wondering if Snape could have possibly heated the cane, as every stroke burnt like fire.

‘Five.'

Oh, good, just one more. He let out a rickety breath and forced himself to remain steady in his position once more.

Tap. Whoosh. Crack.

Harry stifled a yelp. His whole backside was throbbing in pure agony.

‘Six.'

Harry opened his eyes, feeling the hot tears running down his cheeks. He caught sight of Snape's hand as he put the cane down on the desk.  When he felt his shirt tuck back into his trousers, Harry took this as his permission to rise. He quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hands before he slowly turned around and looked into his teacher's face.

Snape peered at him and then shook his head. ‘Some way to start a day, isn't it', he remarked dryly, giving Harry his wand back. ‘Go on then, breakfast will begin shortly.'

At the thought of breakfast Harry's stomach rumbled loudly.  The boy grimaced.

‘What is it, Potter?' Snape inquired.

‘Oh, I dunno,' Harry retorted sarcastically, before he could stop himself. ‘I was just trying to recall the happy memory of the last meal when I was able to enjoy sitting comfortably.' After the words had escaped him he was a bit worried that he had just caused even more trouble for himself but was relieved when he saw the corners of Snape's mouth twitch slightly.

‘Nothing like a good reminiscence...' Snape cleared his throat. ‘Tomorrow morning, when you come for your detention, I will heal you, unless of course you want to repeat your Muggle experience,' he added sarcastically.

‘No I don't,' Harry muttered and went to the door.

He turned around once more when he heard Snape add, ‘Potter?'

‘Yes, sir?'

‘Do me a favour and stay out of trouble today, at least with me. Until we meet tomorrow in detention, I would like to enjoy a Potter-free moment.'

‘The feeling's mutual,' Harry replied under his breath as he left in a haste. He definitely preferred a sarcastic Snape over an angry Snape, but found he couldn't take another second of any form of Snape before breakfast.