Snape brewed the Solis argenti, a silvery grey concoction that shimmered, and Harry watched him drink it by the full light of morning.

“Feel anything?” Harry asked.

“Not a thing.”

“How will we know if it worked? If it…bound to the one I had.”

“I don’t know. Are you experiencing any side effects?”

Harry did a mental scan of his body. He still felt ill. Whether it was from this whole unpleasant situation or something else, he had no idea. “No?”

“Then we’ll find out if this worked when you inevitably disobey me.”

Harry sighed.

“Chin up, Potter. I’m sure you’ll break a rule in the next day or so. That’s rather your standard operating procedure, no?” Snape smirked.

“What then?” Harry blurted.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

“When—if—I disobey you and upset you or whatever the transgression is, what…what will you do?”

Snape stared at him. “When you disobey me I shall bend you across my knee and spank you.”

Harry’s eyes widened. His face flushed and he looked away. His stomach lurched. “I don’t break that many rules.” He muttered.

“I beg to differ.”

Snape still doubted this was Draught of Asphodel, but if it was it would be grand to finally drag Potter over his knee and give him some much-deserved discipline. The boy had been running wild since he’d first arrived at Hogwarts and attempted to defeat that damn troll. Potter, protected by his celebrity ‘Boy who Lived’ persona and his general arrogance, had been dancing around his comeuppance for long enough. Snape would have no qualms about putting the brat in his place.

Harry grabbed up his bag and turned to go, muttering a good-bye as he practically fled from the office. A horrible knot of anxiety and anger was forming in his chest. He didn’t want to think about Snape spanking him. Did it even have to be a spanking? He thought back to what was consequences were listed in the book: branding, removal of limb, getting hit with a hand or paddle. Harry sighed. He refused to be branded with iron or amputated. No one had even considered those as viable options, fortunately. As much as he hated to admit it, spanking did make the most sense. It’s not like Snape could repeatedly slap him across the face or punch him.

Still though. It would be horribly embarrassing and the git would probably do it in front of everyone just to spite him. Also? He was bloody fifteen! He was almost of age and he was supposed to submit to a spanking? What the hell. Harry envisioned himself getting dragged to the Slytherin common room to be bent over a table and smacked. He shuddered. It sounded humiliating. He’d never been spanked before. The Dursleys paid as little attention to him as possible. Any sins he committed were punished by getting locked in the cupboard or bedroom, shoved aside, ignored. Forgotten. They never bothered to take him in hand or properly discipline him, or hell, even buy him a pair of sodding new socks. They didn’t care and he expected nothing from them but neglect.

Harry frowned. Maybe he had to think about this differently. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Sure getting whacked by Snape would be just awful but a spanking was a child’s punishment, no? Of the listed punishments in the book, a spanking sounded the most harmless when put against branding or limb removal. Lean over a table, a few smacks. If an actual small child could handle it, so could he. He was fifteen—he’d won the Triwizard Tournament. He’d beaten a dragon! He’d faced Voldemort twice in his life and won each time! After dealing with that, he was sure a simple child’s punishment would be easy to deal with, even if it was delivered by Snape.



Harry had wondered if he would upset Snape anytime soon. He needn’t have worried. This term they had a double period of potions with the Slytherins: always a recipe for potential disaster.

Snape set them with a really tedious potion: the Draught of Peace. Harry was determined to get this right. He wasn’t going to give Snape any reason to be upset with him and activate the Nox rubrum. Harry prepared his ingredients, carefully keeping all the powdered unicorn horn, porcupine quills, and moonstone separate and labeled. He had a strong start, adding the moonstone until the potion turned green, stirring, then adding more moonstone, stirring until it turned pink, and so on. Hermione and Ron worked on either side of him, equally as focused. At one point Ron dumped too much moonstone in and swore as his potion started to spit green sparks. Snape was patrolling the room like a great vulture and he simply rolled his eyes at Ron’s mistake.

“Hey, Potter…” Draco said while Snape was on the other side of the room. He sidled over to Harry’s workspace. “Heard you were in the hospital wing already. Did widdle Potty have a tummy ache?”

“Shut the hell up, Malfoy.” Harry said, bringing down the fire so his potion could simmer.

“Such a clever comeback!” Draco pretended to be offended and scandalized. “You’re such a pussy, Potter, how many times do you think you’ll end up in the hospital this year? We have a bet going, see…”

“Not as many times as you if you don’t leave me the hell alone.” Harry said, reading the next step.

Seamus laughed loudly and Malfoy scowled. Harry wasn’t sure where it happened but with Malfoy’s distraction he must have added the wrong thing to his cauldron. His potion went from a light pink to a deep angry bruised color and began spewing bubbles that smelled of moldy cheese.

“No, no!” Harry wailed.

“Looks like you messed up again, Potter!” Draco laughed and Harry had just about enough. He didn’t think about the Nox rubrum. He didn’t think to reach for his wand. Instead, he shoved Draco as hard as he could. The boy stumbled back and tripped over a chair, sprawling to the ground.

Snape turned around just in time to see Harry put hands on Draco and send him to the floor.

“Potter!” He snapped, striding towards him. “I will not tolerate fighting in my class! Twenty points from Gryffindor!”

The Gryffindors erupted in protests. Many of them hadn’t even seen what happened. Harry, incensed from Draco’s taunting and the ruined potion, shouted, “You didn’t even fucking see what happened, you git! He started it!”

The entire room gasped. Draco got to his feet and hurried back to his cauldron. Snape had a terrible expression on his face. Harry gulped as Snape swooped over to him, his jaw tight with rage. Harry stepped back, bumping into the table behind him. Snape got up in Harry’s face, looking down his long nose at the boy. Hermione cast a worried look at Ron.

Snape spoke in a near-whisper. “You do not speak to me that way, Potter. Another twenty points off Gryffindor.”

The Gryffindors murmured amongst each other, angry. Harry swallowed his rage, trying his best not to shout in Snape’s face. A stinging sensation erupted in his arms and legs. He hissed and clenched his hands into fists. He looked at his fingers, wondering if the potion would show physical signs of his discomfort. It didn’t appear so. It felt like little needles were poking into his flesh in waves.

Oh no.

Was this the Nox rubrum at work or did his arm and legs spontaneously fall into a deep painful sleep? He scowled. He’d insulted Snape, his ‘master,’ and his body was responding just like the book said it would.

No, no, no.

Unfortunately his class work was a lost cause. Snape glanced down at the cauldron. What was going to be the Draught of Peace had boiled down to a brown sludge. Snape flicked his wand and vanished it.

“I think you can take a zero for the day, Potter.” He said silkily.

Harry was so angry he could barely think. His hands were stinging like mad and the sensation was creeping up his shoulders and it bloody well hurt. It was like a thousand ants were biting him. Fortunately class was almost over and Snape directed everyone to bottle and label their potions and turn them in. Everyone had something to turn in, even Neville, whose potion looked like cement. His classmates gathered their things. Harry slammed his bag on the table and jammed his book inside. He chucked the quill on top just as the bell rang. He hoisted the bag onto his shoulder and turned to go—

“—Mr. Potter, stay behind.”

Ron left with the other students but Hermione gave him an encouraging glance. Harry let his bag slide off his shoulder to his hand. He stood there, completely still, his hands and arms stinging and aching. The pain built to crescendo before gradually fading into a dull background discomfort. Harry fumed until the room was empty save for him and Snape.

“What the hell was that?” Harry whirled around to face his teacher. “Why did you give me a zero?”

Snape looked surprised at Harry’s show of temper. “You disrespectful brat. You’re going to fix your attitude right now.”

“Draco started it! He was bothering me. I got distracted and messed up because of him!”

“And did he make you shove him to the floor and insult me?”

“Well, no, but…”

“You lost twenty points for fighting and another twenty for insulting me. Honestly, Potter! With this potion you took do you really think it wise to insult me? Was this incident worth it?”

Harry wanted to punch his stupid face. He hated him. He really, truly did.

“I wouldn’t have insulted you if you didn’t take off twenty points.”

“And I wouldn’t have taken off twenty points if you didn’t shove Malfoy to the floor.”

Snape had an answer for everything. Harry stood there fuming.

“Control yourself, Potter.” Snape said, “or this will be a very long year for both of us.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have shoved him but he still started it.” Harry grumbled. “I don’t deserve that zero—ow…” He flexed his hand. The stinging was building again, biting and burning his fingers and crawling up his arms. It was building again.

“Are you experiencing an attack?”

Harry nodded and rubbed his hand.

“Then let’s get this over with.”

Harry closed his eyes. It was all completely unfair but there was nothing for it. The Nox rubrum was cruel and didn’t care about fairness. All it knew was that Harry had angered his other half and must atone for it. Snape dropped his hand on Harry’s scruff and steered him into his office. He shut the door with a wand flick. Butterflies erupted in Harry’s belly and he stamped them down. Why was he nervous? A spanking was a kid’s punishment!

Yeah but it’s Snape. A little inner voice started to argue with himself.

This would be easy.

No it won ’t. Because it’s Snape.

He had nothing to be worried about.

Liar.

“Let’s see once and for all if you really did take Nox rubrum.” Snape said, delighted that the boy was finally about to have some consequences. Harry felt little tendrils of fear tickling his guts as he watched Snape unbutton his right cuff and roll the sleeve up in quick movements, revealing a forearm that was rather more muscular than Harry would prefer. Snape grabbed a chair from in front of his desk, spun it around, and sat. He adjusted his cloak and took Harry’s bicep in a firm grip. He dragged the boy between his knees and then down over his left leg—

“—no, no, no,” Harry pulled back with a soft protest. “Why over your leg?”

Snape raised his brow. “I always spank students over my knee.” He said this like it was a sane answer that Harry was supposed to accept.

“You hit students?” Harry had heard rumors. There weren’t rules against using corporal punishment at Hogwarts but the administration’s stance was officially a vague “not recommended.” Some teachers, particularly the Heads of House, still favored the old methods. He knew for a fact that McGonagall had a cane somewhere. He’d heard Fred and George mention it with hushed, fearful tones. It didn’t surprise Harry in the least that Snape was another believer.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Potter, you are running out of time.”

Suddenly this didn’t seem like such a good idea.

“Isn’t there another way?”

“Would you rather be branded or lose a limb?”

Harry shook his head and, slightly shocked, allowed himself to be bent over Snape’s left leg. The man’s other leg crossed over both of his, a large, warm hand wrapped around his waist and then Harry was truly trapped as if caught in Devil’s Snare. This was all happening so fast. Snape fumbled with Harry’s school robes, flipping them up to expose his trouser-clad bottom. Harry gulped. “Wait!”

“What?”

He didn’t know what. This was all moving far too quickly for his liking. Harry was staring at the stone floor and he put a tentative clammy hand out to brace himself. His eyes were wide and his heart pounding. Surely Snape could feel it. This was already worse than he’d thought and nothing had even happened yet. He’d never been this close to Snape before. His leg was warm and sturdy under Harry’s hips and he could smell a spicy, earthy mix of potion ingredients, cauldron smoke and a hint of whatever soap the man used. It was weirdly intimate and Harry didn’t want to know what his professor smelled like.

“If you have something to say, Potter, say it!”

Oh Merlin, he sounded angry. Harry didn’t like him sounding like that in class, much less when he was about to whack him.

“This is so unfair!” He babbled. “It was Malfoy’s fault, not mine, and I didn’t deserve that zero!”

“This potion isn’t fair, Potter. It doesn’t care if you’re right or wrong, it can only react to your transgressions and my Solis argenti. Upset me at your peril, boy.”

Harry knew he was right but that didn’t mean had to accept it well. “He should be getting spanked too!”

“Hm, and yet you are the one over my knee.” Snape mused. His voice hardened to iron. “I will deal with Malfoy. Now stop wasting time, Potter.”

The first smack landed hard on his right buttock, scattering Harry’s struggling thoughts. The second smack landed on the left side, harder still. Snape continued, alternating sides in a horrible rhythm. Harry jerked on each whack as Snape smacked his bum and after only a few whacks Harry’s backside was aching and sore. His mouth fell open in shock. He grabbed a fistful of Snape’s trousers. This hurt! This properly hurt! This wasn’t a child’s punishment at all! He squirmed, trying to pull away from that falling hand. Snape was wise to such tricks. He paused and readjusted him.

“Hold still, Potter.” Smack! Smack! Smack!

Oh no, it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He was only supposed to lean over, get a few smacks, and he’d be on his way. This nonsense of being bent and trapped into position was awful. It was horrible and formal and painful.

“Ow!” He yelped. “Stop! That’s enough!”

“It’s enough when I say it’s enough.” Snape said. He sounded amused.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

This couldn’t be happening. Harry kept hoping to wake up in his four-poster bed—or back at Grimmauld Place. Maybe the doxy venom was making him hallucinate this whole horrible thing.

After a few more hard smacks, Snape spoke. “I’m punishing you now because you called me, so eloquently, a git.”

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“However, you’ve had this coming for a long, long time, boy.”

Smack!

“What? Ow! Why?”

“Hm, let’s think. Going after that ruddy troll in your first year?”

Smack! Smack!

“Ow, stop, ow!” Tears filled his eyes and he arched his back.

“Crashing a car into the Whomping Willow? Almost exposing our,”

Smack!

“entire,”

Smack!

“world?”

Smack!

“Ow!” Harry twisted over Snape’s knee but the man held him fast. He was bloody strong!

“You should have been caned for that stunt!”

Tears dripped from Harry’s eyes. It hurt, yes, but the shock of it all was making his emotions run high. Combined with the stress of having taken the potion, the horror of being bent and smacked, Snape scolding him, and the burning pain of it all, well it wasn’t a surprise that he was crying. His backside would probably never be the same. He had no idea Snape would spank him this hard or long. He never would have dreamed it would hurt so badly or go on for so long. He was thoroughly trapped over Snape’s firm leg as if the man had him in a body bind. Harry had both hands braced on the man’s thigh, his back arched painfully. No one had ever, ever taken him to task like this.

“Answer my question!”

“What?” Harry yelped.

“What the blazes were you thinking?”

“W-weren’t thinking!” He didn’t even know what Snape had asked. The pain was filling his entire world, rendering his senses useless.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Ow! AH!” Harry twisted his hips. When would this end? Surely Snape didn’t mean to spank the potion right out of him? “Ow! I’m sorry!” Harry shouted. “I’m sorry for all of it! The tree and troll and whatever else you said! I’m sorry for everything! Let me up!”

Finally, Snape stopped. They were both silent, panting. Harry mopped his face with his sleeve. He hadn’t thought he’d cry. How mortifying. He didn’t know Snape would hit him this hard. The utter bastard! He didn’t know it was possible for his backside to hurt this much. Owwwww… He was reeling.

“Up. That should do it.” Snape lifted his arms and leaned back in the chair. Harry staggered to feet clumsily before gaining his balance. He fixed his school robes and scuttled a few feet away, looking at Snape in horror.

Snape stood up and pulled his cuff back down, smoothing the fabric into place, regarding Potter who was angrily wiping his eyes.

“If I were you I would seriously consider how to keep my temper in check going forward.” He refastened the buttons on his sleeve in quick twists of his fingers. “Otherwise, this will be repeated many more times this year. Did the attack stop?”

Harry paused. That awful electrifying sensation had vanished without a trace, leaving his arms and hands pain-free. Unfortunately the same could not be said for his bum.

Harry nodded, shocked, and managed a weepy, “yes sir.” He grabbed his school bag before he slammed out of the man’s office without being dismissed. Snape stood there for a few moments, listening as his next class filled into the room. He felt absolutely no remorse. If anything he’d gone easy. Finally the Potter brat had gotten his licks.



Harry ducked into the boy’s toilets and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked pitiful. He splashed water on his face and scrubbed damp hands through his hair, trying to cool down. That had been shockingly awful. Snape had spanked him—and it hurt terribly! He unfastened his clothes and pushed down, turning to look at the damage. He expected welts, bruises, blood. The red dusting over his slightly swollen buttocks was disappointing. How could it hurt so bad and leave so little evidence? He wished he had some cooling cream, anything. He fixed his clothes and flexed his hands. The awful stinging tingling sensation in his arms and hands truly had stopped. He leaned over the sink and tried not to pass out. So this was in fact the Draught of Asphodel. He’d had doubts, a wild hope that this wasn’t in fact Nox rubrum, that Mundungus had given him some poorly-made healing potion and experienced a bunch of coincidental side effects. He’d experienced the gnawing pain in his hands and arms until Snape and only Snape brought an entirely different kind of pain to his rear end. He was exchanging one pain in the arse for another. He stared at himself in the mirror. Until they found an antidote, this was going to be a long year indeed.

Harry drank some water from cupped hands, made himself as presentable as possible, and headed for class. He snuck into History of Magic. Barely anyone glanced up. Binns had the room in a trance of boredom and the sleepy tone of this room was a stark contrast to the anger that had happened just a couple floors away. Harry slipped into a seat in front of Hermione. Ron was one row over, seated behind her.

“You okay?” Hermione asked.

Harry nodded but said nothing. These chairs were solid wood, because of course they were. His backside ached, more now that it was pressed into a chair. How the hell was he going to sit still for the next forty five minutes? He pulled out a quill and parchment, hoping that taking notes would distract him enough from his discomfort. It was no good. Binns was so dull he could bore a stump. Harry shifted in his seat, still shocked at how terrible a simple child’s punishment had been. There was nothing simple about what had happened. It was awful and horrid, painful and humiliating. He doodled on the paper—the logo of the new Moonshot Silver broom. Even thoughts of the new broom weren’t enough to distract him. Damn that bastard and his hard hand!

“Harry!” Hermione whispered behind him. He held still and tilted his head back. “Did he give you anything for the pain?”

“No.” Harry huffed.

Hermione paused. “I’m going to try something.” She waved her wand carefully and immediately the hardness of the chair faded. Harry felt like he was sitting on a big fluffy cloud.

He grinned and turned around.

“Did it work?” She whispered. Behind her, Ron was watching their smiling faces, a scowl on his own.

Harry nodded. “Thanks, Hermione!”

She smiled and patted his shoulder with a couple fingers. Neither of them saw Ron’s irritated face, scowling at them when Hermione patted Harry’s shoulder.



“Ah, Severus.” Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, gesturing for his Potions Professor to sit before his desk. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

“It’s no trouble, Albus.” Snape sat rigidly in the comfortable chair, waiting for whatever Dumbledore had to say.

“I heard about your situation with dear Harry.” Dumbledore said.

Dear. Snape suppressed a snort. “Yes, it was an unfortunate that he consumed such an unpleasant potion.”

“Are there any long-term side effects of this, ah, Draught of Asphodel?” Dumbledore asked.

“Well,” Snape sighed, “I don’t know.” He hated saying that. “This is a rare, dark potion. As far as I can tell it’s not been written about much. I’ve asked Madame Pince to locate some titles on it and have them sent to Hogwarts. It’s been well over a week since Potter took the Nox rubrum and he is still hale and hearty. The ingredients in his assessment were odd. I’m certain though that they are the ingredients contained in the recipe for Nox rubrum, which we’ve not yet found. I have no reason to believe there would be any long-term negative effects of this potion…other than a perpetually sore arse.” He added in a lower tone.

He didn’t add that he thought he was precisely the person to instill some regular discipline and structure in Potter. He wouldn’t say he was looking forward to it but he wasn’t not looking forward to it. He wasn’t exactly gleeful about his new responsibilities but he had thought Potter needed some regular discipline ever since that Halloween night when he waltzed into the loo and battled a troll and hadn’t received anything resembling a proper punishment for it. Then the following year the willow tree, then stealing off to Hogsmeade with Black on the loose…the list was endless really. If Potter had been sorted into Slytherin the boy’s backside would have met Snape’s hand within the first six months of his first year.

In this case he had no choice. Albus could squawk all he wanted about how awful the potion was, and ‘poor Harry this and poor Harry that.’ The potion demanded physical chastisement from him specifically. Potter’s next disobedient foray wouldn’t result in a rubbish slap on the wrist writing lines followed up by a conciliatory trip to McGonagall’s tin of ginger newts. With him in charge of the boy’s discipline in his own classroom Potter’s empty promises to improve behavior would certainly stop now. Pity they couldn’t dole Nox rubrum out to all the school’s troublemakers.

Dumbledore was staring at him with a small smile on his face like he knew exactly what Snape was thinking.

“How is Harry faring with this arrangement?”

“He hates it. To be expected. The boy’s never had much discipline.”

Dumbledore sighed. “There’s no reason you need to be ‘the bad guy,’ Severus. This potion is ‘the bad guy’ and it affects you both, for better or for worse. You’re a strict man, and invaluable to this school, but try to see this as an opportunity to….loosen up, if you’d like.”

Loosen up? Snape had never loosened up in his life. “Are you suggesting I not follow the requirements of the Nox rubrum? Potter will likely die if I do nothing.”

“Do what you need to do to keep Harry alive and well, Severus. But remember that the real villain here is the potion, not you. Once you and Harry realize that then this entire dilemma will be easier on both of you.”

Snape sensed the conversation coming to an end and glanced at the clock.

“Start of term is busy and I shan’t keep you.” Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. “Consider my words, Severus. Harry needs you now like never before.”

What a horrifying thought. He bid Dumbledore farewell and went back to his dungeons.



Everything was fine for the next several days. Harry was catching up with his old dorm mates, Neville and Seamus and Dean. If felt good to be back in his wonderfully soft four poster bed surrounded by friends instead of trapped with the Dursleys. Angelina, Captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, was already talking about tryouts and practices and Harry couldn’t wait to get back up on his Firebolt and get some good flying in. Playing quidditch was one of his favorite things about being at Hogwarts. With all the rubbish that was usually going in his life, being up in the air with nothing but the roaring wind rushing past his ears gave him a sense of peace and calm nothing else could match. Harry figured he could just keep his head down this year, hang out with his friends and study for the O.W.Ls. He was thinking of becoming an Auror and per Hermione, he needed good marks in his classes. As for the Draught of Asphodel, he was just going to ignore it. He had absolutely no desire to get another spanking so he’d keep out of Snape’s greasy hair and with any luck the stupid Nox rubrum would wear off and everything would go back to normal.