kbinnz - Harry's New Home

Harry nodded, but those green eyes were still dark with pain. "Will you ever be able to trust me again?" he whispered. "I don't want you to hate me."

Melodramatic brat! "Idiot. I don't hate you. You are an impossible, naughty, unthinking child, but as children go I find you to be less offensive than most." Harry blinked, processing what was said, then his whole face lit up as he worked it out.

"Really? You like me? Still?"

"Did I not just say so?" Snape demanded crossly. "Foolish child. You will learn to listen to me. Now stop talking."

Harry ducked his head into his pillow to hide his smile. He felt his professor rise and place one hand firmly on his back then тАУ thwack! тАУ the first swat stung his backside. Harry jerked his head up and stared at his professor in surprise. That had hurt!

Oh, it was nothing like the whacks his relatives used to dole out, but it was a respectable swat - significantly harder than the perfunctory tap he'd received at the Weasleys - and imparted a definite sting and burn to his bottom. "Do not risk your neck again!" Snape whispered fiercely and administered another smack, even harder than the first.

Harry winced and wiggled. "Ouch!" he complained, and this time there was no artifice in his tone. He pouted at Snape as he snaked one hand back and rubbed the stinging spot.

"If you do not wish to suffer the penalty, then do not violate the rule," Snape retorted unsympathetically. "Get to sleep." He helped Harry under the covers, then gave him a good night pat on the behind.

Harry grumbled to himself as he settled beneath the quilt. Why'd Professor Snape have to pat him there? His rear still smarted from the swats, and even the light tap served to reinforce the punishment - which was, he guessed, precisely his professor's intention. He sighed. He knew he deserved his punishment - including the smacking - and he had been incredibly relieved to learn that Professor Snape didn't hate him. He just wished his professor hadn't chosen this night to overcome his aversion to giving anything more than token swats. He didn't want Ron to decide that his guardian wasn't very nice after all.

Snape smirked at the boy's grumpy expression. "Remember what I said," he admonished, and swept out of the room, nox'ing the lights as he did.

There was a minute or two of silence in the room, then: "You okay, Harry?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah. My bum still stings, though."

"Mine too. Blimey, he takes safety stuff seriously, doesn't he?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. He doesn't smack nearly so hard for other things."

Ron gave his backside a tentative rub, then winced. "Well, it's not that bad. I mean, a wooden spoon hurts worse."

Harry sighed. "Or a hairbrush."

Ron choked. "I thought you said he didn't use a hairbrush on you!"

"He doesn't," Harry said swiftly, not wanting Ron to get the wrong idea about his professor. "But my relatives did. A lot. And the belt."

There was a moment of silence. "Is that why you're with Snape now? 'Cause your relatives hit you?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I don't really want anyone to know тАУ I mean, 'cept for you and Hermione тАУ but they were pretty awful. I didn't think it was so bad, but when I got here and Professor Snape found out, he went kind of mental. He said that they were terrible and I shouldn't have been treated like that."

"Is that why he had you write all those lines about how stupid they were and how you weren't to listen to them?"

Harry couldn't help smiling as he thought of those 500 lines. Even Professor Snape's lips had quirked upwards when Harry had handed in the parchment and he'd skimmed the contents. "Yeah. I still make that mistake sometimes, and then he gets all grumpy an' protective." He paused. "He's really pretty great," he admitted, even as he rubbed his still-tingling backside.

"I guess that's why he gets so mad when you do something stupid and put yourself in danger. It's like when you do that, you're still listening to your relatives."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He hadn't considered it like that before. "Yeah, I guess. No wonder he gets so mad, then. He must've told me not to listen to my relatives about a million times already."

A few minutes of quiet ensued, broken by: "Still hurting?" Ron asked.

"Not really," Harry confessed. "You?"

"Nah. Though I'm just as glad we don't have to go sit in class right now."

"Me too."

"Still... it was a really big troll, you know?"

Harry grinned. "And going down the stairs on its back? That was actually pretty cool тАУ I mean, since we weren't killed or anything."

"Yeah! And that idea with the pikestaff? That was brillтАУ"

"Go. To. Sleep." The stern voice from the doorway halted all further chatter, as with identical gulps, both boys ducked under their covers.

TBCтАж

*Chapter 24*: Chapter 24

Within a very short time, Ron was snoring in the far bed, but Harry couldn't sleep. He hated having lied to his guardian, but worse than that, he knew he had let the man down. The professor had done everything he'd promised, being an even better guardian than Harry could have hoped, but Harry kept screwing up. It wasn't like his professor had placed enormous burdens on him; all he had to do was behave himself and not do stupid stuff, but he couldn't seem to help it. Maybe the Dursleys were right to call him a worthless fre- Harry caught himself and looked nervously at the doorway.

His guardian had never yet made good on his threat to wash his mouth out with soap, but Harry figured that this was not a good time to tempt the man. The last of the stingy warmth had long since left his bum, but the strength of the two swats had made it clear that his professor had really been frightened. Harry didn't want to give the man anything else to be cross about tonight, not if he could help it.

Harry sighed. His professor didn't deserve to have such a troublesome ward. Harry should be trying to make things better for the man, not doing things to upset the faculty and scare his professor witless. The Dursleys had said he was useless; what if they were right?

Thinking about the Dursleys made Harry feel even worse. He owed his professor so much, much more than the man could possibly realize. No one had ever worried about Harry before or insisted that his life was worth anything. No one else had ever thought he could be a good person, let alone want him to do well. Uncle Vernon had often declared, "A good bottom warming will teach you not to be so freaky, boy!" before making sure that Harry's backside was not just warmed, but scorched. Lying on his stomach on his thin mattress under the stairs, stifling his sobs while he gingerly rubbed his throbbing rump, Harry had often wondered just how many more times he would have to endure such treatment before the freakiness had been erased. Since he never really knew how he was performing the freaky acts that led to his worst wallopings, Harry could do nothing more than try to soothe his punished skin and hope that finally, the smacking had banished the freakiness.

Oh, the professor threatened and scolded like mad, and he would even carry through with a punishment when absolutely necessary тАУ like tonight тАУ but he never had that look of satisfaction that the Dursleys always wore after they had stung Harry's bum with a hairbrush or banished him to his cupboard. It wasn't so much that they enjoyed hurting Harry (well, except for Dudley), but more that they felt virtuous about having taught him a painful and/or unpleasant lesson. Jackknifed over his aunt or uncle's knee, staring at the carpet and yelping as the awful sting blossomed across his backside, he had often prayed for someone who wouldn't punish him to prove how rotten he was, but to help remind him that he was actually a better person than his current behavior suggested.