Day 3: Punishment

Day 3: Punishment

Harry stood in the middle of Snape's office, the air thick with tension as Snape stared him down from across the room. His black eyes were sharp and cold, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. The silence between them was deafening, but Harry didn't dare speak first.

He knew what this was about.

"Explain yourself, Potter," Snape's voice cut through the air like a blade, low and menacing. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded Harry with a predatory gaze.

Harry's mouth went dry. He had been caught—caught sneaking around in the dungeons after hours, caught rifling through Snape's private stores, trying to find a particular potion ingredient. He had thought he could slip in and out unnoticed, but Snape had caught him red-handed, and now Harry was paying the price.

"I was—" Harry started, but Snape's raised hand silenced him immediately.

"I don't want to hear your excuses," Snape snapped, rising from his chair with the fluid grace of a predator. "You've been reckless, as usual. And now you'll suffer the consequences."

Harry swallowed hard, his heart racing as Snape crossed the room, his long black robes billowing behind him. There was something dangerous in the way Snape moved, something predatory that made Harry's pulse quicken. He knew he was in trouble—knew that whatever punishment Snape had in mind would be anything but gentle.

Snape stopped in front of Harry, his eyes boring into Harry's with an intensity that made him shiver. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if you had taken the wrong ingredient from my stores?" he hissed, his voice low and cold. "You could have blown yourself to bits."

"I—I'm sorry," Harry stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I wasn't thinking—"

"No, you weren't," Snape interrupted, his tone sharp and unforgiving. "As usual, you acted without considering the consequences. And now you will learn your lesson."

Harry's breath caught in his throat as Snape's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist in a firm, unyielding grip. Without a word, Snape dragged him over to the large wooden desk in the center of the room, shoving Harry forward so that his chest was pressed against the cool surface of the desk. Harry's heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

"You want to act like a foolish, reckless child?" Snape growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned over Harry, his breath hot against the back of Harry's neck. "Then I will treat you like one."

Before Harry could respond, Snape's hand came down hard on his arse, the sharp smack echoing through the room. Harry gasped, his body jerking forward at the force of the blow, but Snape's other hand was already pressing down on his back, holding him in place.

The sting of the slap lingered, a sharp burn spreading across Harry's skin, but before he could process it, Snape's hand came down again, harder this time. Harry bit down on his lip to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as Snape continued the punishment, each slap harder than the last.

"You think you can just waltz into my private stores, take whatever you please, and face no consequences?" Snape hissed, his voice filled with cold fury. "You are more foolish than I thought, Potter."

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, his chest heaving as Snape's hand came down again and again, the sharp sting of each slap sending jolts of pain and—unexpectedly—pleasure through his body. His skin burned with the force of the blows, but there was something else beneath the pain, something that made his body respond in ways he hadn't anticipated.

Snape's hand stilled for a moment, and Harry dared to open his eyes, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the sharp sting of the punishment still lingering, but what caught him off guard was the way his body was reacting. His trousers were uncomfortably tight, his cock hard and aching, pressed against the wood of the desk.

Snape seemed to notice.

"Well, well," Snape murmured, his voice soft and dangerously amused as he straightened up, his hand sliding down Harry's back in a mockingly gentle gesture. "It seems our dear Harry Potter enjoys a bit of discipline."

Harry's face burned with shame, his heart pounding in his chest as Snape's words sank in. He couldn't deny it—his body's reaction was proof enough. The heat, the tension, the way Snape's dominance over him made his blood race—it was intoxicating.

Snape's hand slid lower, tracing a path down Harry's spine before coming to rest on the curve of his arse. His touch was light now, almost teasing, and Harry shivered at the sensation, his body trembling with anticipation.

"Tell me, Potter," Snape said softly, his fingers brushing against the waistband of Harry's trousers. "Do you want more?"

Harry's breath hitched, his mind spinning as the question hung in the air. He could barely think straight, the mixture of pain and arousal clouding his thoughts, but one thing was clear: he wanted more. He wanted to feel Snape's hands on him, to feel the sharp sting of punishment mixed with the pleasure that was building inside him.

"Yes," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible.

Snape's smirk was palpable, and without another word, he tugged Harry's trousers down, exposing his reddened skin to the cool air of the room. Harry's cock sprang free, hard and aching, and he bit down on his lip, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

But Snape didn't give him time to dwell on it. His hand came down again, harder this time, the slap echoing through the room as Harry's body jerked forward with the force of it. The pain was sharp, intense, but it was immediately followed by a wave of pleasure that made Harry's toes curl, his cock twitching in response.

"You'll learn to follow instructions," Snape growled, his hand coming down again and again, each slap driving Harry closer to the edge. "You'll learn discipline, Potter, even if I have to beat it into you."

Harry whimpered, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself together. The sting of each slap was almost unbearable, but the pleasure that followed was overwhelming, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach until he could barely breathe.

Snape's hand slowed, his strokes becoming more deliberate, more teasing, as he leaned down to murmur in Harry's ear. "Do you want to come, Potter?"

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his body trembling with the need for release. He could feel the tension building inside him, the pressure mounting with every touch, but he knew better than to answer without permission.

"Answer me," Snape commanded, his voice sharp.

"Yes," Harry gasped, his voice trembling with desperation. "Please."

Snape's smirk widened, and his hand slid lower, brushing against the curve of Harry's arse in a teasing caress. "Then beg."

Harry's heart raced, his body trembling as the demand hung in the air. He didn't want to give in, didn't want to let Snape see how desperate he was, but the heat in his body was too much, the need too overwhelming.

"Please," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please let me come."

Snape's hand slid lower, brushing lightly over the curve of Harry's cock, the touch so teasing and light that it made Harry's entire body jerk in response. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his mind spinning with the intensity of the sensations coursing through him.

"Pathetic," Snape muttered, his hand wrapping firmly around Harry's cock. "But I suppose you've earned it."

With one quick, fluid motion, Snape's hand tightened, stroking Harry with firm, unrelenting precision. Harry gasped, his body trembling as the pleasure hit him like a tidal wave, every nerve in his body on fire as Snape worked him closer and closer to the edge.

The strokes were rough, fast, and Harry could feel himself unraveling with each one, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in his stomach, the pressure building until he couldn't hold it back any longer.

"Come," Snape commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

And Harry did.

His body convulsed, a choked cry escaping his lips as his orgasm hit him with staggering force. His cock twitched in Snape's hand, his release spilling over Snape's fingers in hot, desperate spurts as waves of pleasure crashed over him. The intensity of it left him breathless, his body trembling uncontrollably as he slumped forward against the desk.

Snape's hand stilled, his grip loosening as he guided Harry through the aftershocks, his touch firm but almost… gentle. For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the harsh, uneven breathing that filled the air.

Then, slowly, Snape pulled away, wiping his hand clean with a flick of his wand as he straightened up, his expression once again unreadable.

"You will not repeat this mistake, Potter," Snape said quietly, his voice firm, his voice firm, though there was a lingering satisfaction in his tone. "If you do, next time, the punishment will be far worse."

Harry nodded weakly, still slumped over the desk, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his release. His mind was a haze of pleasure, pain, and exhaustion, and he couldn't muster the energy to respond with words. Instead, he focused on breathing, trying to steady the rapid thumping of his heart as he came down from the high of the punishment.

Snape moved away from Harry, his footsteps soft as he returned to his desk. Harry listened to the quiet rustle of Snape's robes, the faint clink of glass bottles as Snape began organizing his potions. For a moment, the ordinary sounds grounded Harry, pulling him back to reality, reminding him where he was.

But the weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air. This wasn't the first time Snape had punished him, but it had never been like this. The raw intensity of it, the way Snape had pushed him to the brink, had taken Harry by surprise. And, more than that, the way his body had responded—the overwhelming desire for more—it unsettled him in ways he wasn't sure he could put into words.

Eventually, Harry managed to push himself up from the desk, his legs shaky as he straightened his clothes. He could feel Snape's eyes on him, watching his every movement, but Snape said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them like a thick fog. Harry's arse still stung from the punishment, the sharp burn a reminder of his disobedience, but it was the memory of Snape's hands on him that lingered the most.

Once he was fully dressed, Harry glanced over at Snape. The older man stood behind his desk, his expression unreadable as he meticulously organized the potions on the shelf. There was no trace of the heated exchange that had just occurred—no sign that anything out of the ordinary had happened. Snape was once again the cold, calculating professor, as if nothing had changed.

But something had changed.

Harry could feel it in the way Snape had looked at him, in the way his body had responded to Snape's commands. There was a new, unspoken tension between them, something dark and electric that crackled in the air, and Harry didn't know what to make of it.

For a moment, Harry considered leaving—slipping out of the office and pretending this had never happened. But he knew that wasn't an option. He couldn't just walk away from this, couldn't ignore the way his body still hummed with the memory of Snape's touch.

"Professor," Harry said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Snape didn't look up from his work. "What is it, Potter?"

Harry hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words. He didn't know how to explain what he was feeling—didn't know if he even understood it himself. But there was something inside him, something that needed to be said, even if he couldn't quite put it into words.

"That—what happened just now…" Harry's voice trailed off, and he swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I—"

"You deserved every bit of it," Snape interrupted, his voice cold and clipped. "And if you think this will earn you any special treatment, you are sorely mistaken."

Harry's heart sank at Snape's words, but he forced himself to stand his ground. He wasn't looking for special treatment—that wasn't what this was about. It was about the connection, the intensity of what had happened between them. The punishment had been harsh, yes, but there had been something else—something unspoken that lingered in the air.

"I'm not asking for special treatment," Harry said firmly, his voice gaining strength. "I just—"

"What, Potter?" Snape's gaze finally snapped to Harry, his dark eyes gleaming with impatience. "What is it you want?"

Harry felt his heart skip a beat under Snape's intense stare, his words catching in his throat. What did he want? He wasn't sure. But he couldn't shake the feeling that whatever it was, it was wrapped up in the way Snape had looked at him, touched him, controlled him.

"I don't know," Harry admitted, his voice faltering. "But I—"

Snape's expression softened for just a fraction of a second, so brief that Harry almost missed it. Then the mask of cold indifference returned, and Snape turned away, focusing once more on the potions in front of him.

"You'll figure it out," Snape said quietly, his tone losing some of its harshness. "Eventually."

Harry blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in Snape's tone. There was something unspoken in Snape's words, something that made Harry's chest tighten. It wasn't forgiveness, but it wasn't the cold dismissal he had been expecting either.

Unsure of what to say, Harry nodded and turned to leave the room. His hand was on the doorknob when Snape's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Potter."

Harry turned back to face Snape, his heart racing. Snape's expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Harry's pulse quicken.

"Do not make me repeat this punishment," Snape said softly, his voice carrying a quiet, dangerous edge. "Because next time, I will not be so merciful."

Harry swallowed hard, nodding once before slipping out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind him, he let out a shaky breath, his mind spinning with everything that had just happened.

He wasn't sure what had changed between them—wasn't sure if anything had changed. But as he made his way down the darkened corridor, his body still buzzing with the memory of Snape's hands on him, he knew one thing for certain.

This was far from over.