Harry didn’t really have time to take in the décor, since he was dragged through the room – which Harry could at least ascertain was the living area – and once they reached a large, light tan sofa, he was tossed unceremoniously and quite roughly into its contents. Harry landed against the soft, plush back of the couch and quickly readjusted himself, so he could fearfully look up at Snape.

The man crossed his arms in front of his chest and glared down at Harry with great controlled fury; his chest heaving up and down slightly with the effort. Harry couldn’t help but squirm in his seat. He felt extremely guilty and now very nervous, not to mention frightened about what Snape was going to do to him.

“You, Mr. Potter, have quite a bit of brazen impudence,” began Snape in a low voice, his glare never wavering. “Never in all my tenure has a student so violated my privacy as you have – and don’t you dare think about gloating about this, Potter. For this transgression of yours, the consequence will be most severe. You will have no desire to gloat after I’m through with you.”

Harry gulped, fully agreeing with the man – even though gloating hadn’t crossed his mind, ever.

“How dare you go through my personal memories,” continued Snape, his tone rising and his glare intensifying. “You knew that I was removing them for our lessons, in case you broke through – which you have once. Do you not understand the severity of this?”

Harry’s lower lip trembled. For a brief moment, a part of himself wanted growl and snap back at Snape, since the man had done nothing but berate and cruelly invade his mind all these lessons. However, he found that he just couldn’t. There was no anger right now. It honestly all made sense now. No wonder Snape had been so hateful since the first class. Harry reminded the man of his horribly cruel father.

Would Harry have the same feelings if there had been a student like that during his years? Malfoy was an obnoxious jerk, yes, but he never attacked Harry because he was bored. If Harry had been in Snape’s position, would he have acted the same, all because that child had reminded of his tormentor?

What if Voldemort had a son? What would Harry’s feelings be towards that child? Would he think of Voldemort every time he saw him?

It put Snape into a whole new light and somehow Harry just couldn’t blame the man for his actions. No, Snape wasn’t perfect and he probably should’ve been more mature over the matter, but Harry didn’t blame him. He never blamed the Dursleys for their cruelty; he knew he was a burden to them. Now that he had seen the truth, there was no one to blame.

Once again, it was all Harry’s fault.

“Well?!” snapped Snape, obviously furious at Harry’s silence.

Harry could only nod his head in agreement. He knew he was in big trouble for his careless and stupid action. He shouldn’t have done it. He shouldn’t have snooped through Snape’s memories. He was an idiot.

“Nothing to say in your defense, then?” demanded Snape, and this time, Harry shook his head. There was a sharp exhale of breath. “Very well, I will execute your consequence immediately.”

As Snape whirled around, his black robes flaring out ominously, Harry found that his voice trembled out, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Something I should’ve done years ago when I learned you were wandering the castle at night underneath that blasted cloak of your father’s,” growled Snape, grabbing an armless chair – easily a chair used at a kitchen table – and setting it in front of the couch about a foot away from Harry. “On multiple occasions, no less!” he added furiously, pointing at Harry, who winced. “But, no, the Headmaster disagreed with me and he let you have run of the castle. But he had no say this night! You will learn and you are long, long overdue for this.”

Harry should’ve known something different was about to happen, especially when Snape hadn’t gotten a cauldron – or, heck, a kitchen knife. Of course, what the Professor was actually about to do would’ve been far from his mind. He would’ve never guessed. Thus, that was why Harry tilted his head in confusion when Snape sat down in the hard chair placed in front of him. The man then commenced to push his excess robes out of the way of his lap. Finally, the man tugged the collared sleeves of his robes down slightly.

A moment later, a hand reached out and, with a firm, powerful grip, grabbed Harry by the wrist. He was forced to his feet and he had to look down at Snape as the man sat in that chair. The man looked up at him with stern, powerful eyes.

“Prepare yourself, Potter.”

Then, without further ceremony and to Harry’s absolute shock, he was tipped over the man’s knees. His one arm was locked against the man’s torso, while his other arm hung loosely from the position. Harry’s eyes were wide with pure surprise as he felt an arm pull him closer to that black covered torso.

This isn’t what I think it is… is it?

Those hard legs underneath his stomach shifted slightly.

He’s not going to…

Crap! He is!

The first slap to Harry’s seat caused him to jerk in surprise. His whole body went rigid as another fell sharply, a hissing intake of breath passing through his clenched teeth. Thus, it continued, the sounds of his currently being punished backside echoing through the dungeon quarters.

This was really happening. He was over his Professor’s knees, getting walloped like a little child. The man was really spanking him – all for going through his Pensive; that was how angry Snape was about this. He, Harry, wasn’t going to be cut up and made into a potion. No, he was just going to have his backside roasted by the palm of Snape’s hand.

Well, the day honestly hit a whole new low for Harry, now didn’t it?

“I should’ve done this years ago,” said Snape, his hand never stopping. There were a few sharp, hearty swats and Harry couldn’t hold back the yelp that slipped from his mouth; his body jerking. He quickly pursed his lips, hoping to stay stoic through this – honestly, this had to be a step higher than becoming potion ingredients. This was easy to take compared to any curse that Voldemort had thrown at him. What was a few wallops to the backside?

Thus, as Harry struggled with the flood of emotions that were starting to build up in his chest, Snape continued his scathing lecture.

“Maybe if I had, you would’ve thought twice before running head first into dangerous adventures. You foolish boy! Don’t you realize that I may have dangerous memories that could put not only you, but myself and the rest of the Wizarding World in great peril? Do you not think about the repercussions of your choices and actions before you begin them?”

There was a sharp prickle inside Harry’s heart from those words. No, he was too old for this, wasn’t he? Fifteen was far too old to be over the knees of an adult, getting a good old fashioned walloping and being soundly reproached for his mistake. Although, the dark thought entered Harry’s mind that something like this would’ve done James Potter a world of good – and definitely Sirius could’ve used a dose of it, too.

Multiple doses…

Sadly at the moment, the only person it was going to do any good for was Harry Potter – and his seat was definitely beginning to feel its affects. With every merciless smack to his seat, a new flare of fire would burn there. It never stopped; on and on the man’s hand continued to reprove the wayward seat that was draped over his knees.

There was no stopping the sniffles that began.

“You are not to repeat what you saw to a single soul, do you hear me? If you even think about relating it to anyone, a repeat session here will be the least of your worries, but certainly not excluded.”

Relate what he saw? Harry didn’t even want to remember it, let alone tell anyone. Why on earth would he tell anyone that his parents were such horrible people? He was deathly ashamed of them. He didn’t want to be their son. He wanted to be someone else’s son. He wished he were a Weasley, even with the hand-me-down clothes and such. At least there was love in that household and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were upstanding, good people.

“I am terminating your lessons as well,” continued Snape fiercely, the spanking still ongoing as he spoke. The fire was overbearing now in Harry’s seat. Every time a harsh swat made contact with his fiery stinging seat, he hissed and sucked in his breath. Real tears built up inside his eyes and they slowly began to fall to the floor. He kept repeating to himself that he wasn’t going to cry, that he could take this, that he deserved this for everything he ever did, but his body just wasn’t listening to him.

Those tears fell, unimpeded.

“How can I trust that you will avoid temptation next time? You have shown nothing but a lax and lazy attitude over these lessons, and I am finished with it. You could’ve put in a little effort, but you were too stubborn. Such laziness – just like your arrogant father before you.”

Snape fell silent as he continued the punishment. Something inside Harry broke. Heart wrenching sobs tore through the air, their sounds overlapping the echoing smacks to a clothed bottom. There was a small thump as a pair of round, black glasses fell to the floor. Harry sobbed over the man’s lap. He couldn’t stop now. He felt like a knife had torn through his heart at Snape’s last sentence. Never before had someone’s words injured his soul like this.

I don’t want to be like my horrible father.

I don’t want to be anything like him!

There was a brief pause, as if Snape was surprised by the sudden change in Harry. It wasn’t long, however. Harry was sure he was going to be over this man’s knees all night long, getting his seat spanked like a little brat, and sobbing uncontrollably for hours. Finally, in between the gasping sobs and the falling tears, Harry managed to speak the feeling that was most prominent through his soul at that moment.

“I hate them!”

There was a shocked pause.

“Potter?”

“I—” There was a gasping hiccup. “I hate them! I don’t want to be like my horrible father. I hate him!”

Everything stopped. The man no longer continued his onslaught against Harry’s vulnerable seat. Harry just laid there, sagging with little energy over the man’s hard knees; the gasping sobs never stopping. Then, he felt a pair of hands slip beneath his armpits and slowly lift him to his feet. Harry had no strength whatsoever. He was emotionally drained. He was carefully set down to sit on the soft cushion of the couch. The contact was thoroughly excruciating to his stinging backside and Harry couldn’t help the hiss of pain that fell from his lips. He kept his head ducked, his upper body constantly shuddering from his tearful breathing.

“Potter, what—”

“Professor Snape…” interrupted Harry, not really hearing the man; his voice cracking against another sob. His hands, on their accord, lifted to his face to wipe the excess of tears that flooded his face. The only thing he could think about was doing better in his lessons with Snape, just to prove that he wasn’t lazy like him. But he couldn’t do that if there were to be no more lessons. He needed them – he didn’t want one stupid action ruin everything. There was a soft sniffle. “I want to continue our lessons. I don’t want to fail at this. I need to learn Occlumency. Please. Let me continue. I don’t have…”

I don’t have anything left.