Bonds of Affection

When they finally returned to the Manor, Ron and Hermione ran off to their room. Harry went to his, and sulked quietly, feeling compelled to find Severus, and being almost afraid to do so.

The funeral, Luna's song, and Dumbledore's words of admonition unleashed a flood of emotions within – the regret about wasting time, when there was so little of it left, remorse about pushing away his friends, and guilt about ignoring Severus... about pushing his buttons, provoking him, raging at him. Severus' patient, non vindictive approach to Harry's anger and insolence only made Harry feel more guilty... now that his rage began to ebb away.

It was late in the evening, when Harry finally resolved to go to Severus, and knock on the door of his study.

“I am - sorry,” Harry breathed out instantly, as soon as the door shut behind him.

“Very good,” Severus said impassively, but not unkindly. “However, I am still going to punish you.”

Guilty feelings notwithstanding, Harry found his temper flaring up instantly, as if on cue. “What exactly are you going to punish me for?” he demanded, even though he already had a good idea of what the answer was going to be.

Severus stared at him unblinking. “For deliberately upsetting yourself and brooding over the things in the past you have no control over. For pushing away your friends - or trying to. For wallowing in misery, and setting yourself up to be alone, isolated from everyone else.”

“You? You are going to punish me for something like this?” Harry muttered incredulously. “You are the one to talk. You have been doing exactly the same to yourself for years...”

Severus kept his face impassive, but Harry could swear that a hint of a smile was in the corner of his lips. “Yes,” Severus agreed easily, without a faintest trace of defensiveness. “And we both know how well that worked out.”

Harry bowed his head in surrender, as Severus had disarmed him entirely with that one simple statement. He watched, as Severus reached into the desk drawer and pulled out the familiar instrument – the cane he had used on him a couple of weeks ago. Harry swallowed hard, as the recollection of the last caning sent a chill down his spine, but the memory of Severus touching and soothing his injuries afterwards awakened his arousal. He issued a mortified groan and stepped forward to the desk, glancing at Severus plaintively.

Severus returned his gaze. “You don't have to,” Severus told him. “It is your choice. You have my permission walk away at any time. But I do believe it will be beneficial.”

Harry nodded slightly, and dropped his trousers and shorts, lifted his shirt, and leaned across the desk, grasping the opposite edge of it with his hands. Severus got up and circled around him, standing behind him. Harry took a deep breath and asked:

“How many?” He noticed, to his aggravation, that his voice was shaking slightly.

“Eight,” Severus told him.

Harry pressed his forehead against the wooden surface of the desk. “Can you put a silencing charm on the door?” he asked meekly.

“I can,” Severus said. “But I have no intention of doing so. You will exercise self-control, you will count out the strokes, and you will thank me for each one.”

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” Harry muttered incredulously. The tip of the cane touched the small of his back, and lifted the hem of the shirt even further up.

“It is inadvisable to use foul language during punishment,” Severus said coolly. “Let's make it ten, shall we?”

“Yes, Sir,” Harry whispered, suddenly unnerved.

The cane tapped his buttocks, and then struck hard, and a line of absolute cold imprinted onto his flesh. The cold lingered for a second, and then erupted into fire, and Harry bit down on his lip to stop himself from crying out.

“One. Sir. Thank you,” he said almost calmly. Faint hope glimmered: maybe he could get through the entire punishment without humiliating himself this time.

The cane struck again, and another line of agony was born right next to the first. Harry gasped, as his eyes stung with tears. He chocked back a sob.

“Two – thank you, Sir.”

The third stroke knocked his breath out of him. When he regained his voice, he mouthed out, “Three... thank you,” in a subdued whisper.

The fourth made the tears burst out of his eyes, and he tasted blood from biting down on his lip. “Four!” he cried out desperately, his hands digging into the edge of the desk. “Thank you.” His vision blurred, and his mind was immersed in a fog.

Several more strokes landed, covering the rest of his backside, turning the entire area into one massive throbbing burn. Harry did not remember counting them, giving thanks for them, or even acknowledging them. He must have, because he did not remember being scolded or corrected either. He found himself sobbing out loud, shamelessly, unrestrainedly, tears streaming from his eyes.

“How... many left?” he asked in a daze.

“Just one more,” he heard. He wanted to say it was enough, and end it – but instead, he just lifted his head off the desk and nodded.

The cane descended again, and his knees buckled at the agony. Harry heard himself cry out, he heard himself say, ten, not believing it for a moment. He whispered a word of thanks, and slid to the floor, curling into a fetal position, his entire backside throbbing with tearing pain, his thoughts disorganized, his limbs feeling faint and weak. But even as he sobbed quietly and dejectedly, from the torment and the humiliation of the punishment, Harry realized that the guilt, the regrets, and even the angry thoughts about the distant past before his time, had now dissipated completely. He found himself enveloped in warmth and cradled in tenderness. Slowly, as the fog in his mind cleared, he realized that Severus was lying on the floor next to him, holding him in his arms. Harry leaned into his embrace and cried blissfully and openly, anchored in the present moment. Everything else had vanished completely. There was no more past, no more future, no cause for guilt, no reason for fear... just the dreamlike reality of the present.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered again. Moving painfully, he lifted himself off the floor slightly, leaning on his elbows, and glanced at Severus. His Master's dark eyes were calm, but Harry saw a single tear-track on his cheek. Severus took Harry's face in his hands, and kissed his cheeks, lifting the tears off with his lips. Harry drew closer, and begged,

“Severus... if my punishment is over - kiss me. Please.”

The request granted instantly, their lips touched, and Severus kissed him, gently, slowly covering Harry's mouth with his, caressing his injured lower lip. Harry parted his lips, and met his tongue, his entire body trembling at the contact, the ache of the recent punishment being drowned in reawakened arousal.

Severus noticed it and moved one of his hands to Harry's belly, touching the very tip of his cock. Harry pressed himself into that hand with a shameless whimper.

Severus laughed softly and got off the floor, guiding Harry to get up as well. Harry complied easily, standing in front of Severus with a dreamy smile, in nothing but his boots and his shirt. Severus threw his robe over Harry's shoulders, covering him, and wrapped his arms around him, leading him out of his study, and into his bedroom. Harry allowed himself to be walked without resistance, or even a trace of embarrassment left... even as he wondered idly whether his friends had heard anything, or whether they would notice them walking – it did not matter much.

When they reached Severus' bedroom, Harry kicked off his boots, and shed his robe and shirt onto the floor. He collapsed on the bed face down, parting his legs, and hugging a pillow. Severus sat next to him. Harry heard him Accio something – he did not care what. He was immersed in a pleasant, warm haze where Severus could do anything he wanted to him, and he would issue no objection. He felt Severus touch his welted backside gently, rubbing something into it. Scent of something like lavender spread through the rooms, and the ache of the injuries slowly receded to a level where it was nostalgically pleasant. He felt the hands travel up his back, massaging his shoulders, kneading his muscles, easing the tension in his arms, and he melted under the touch, feeling his entire body become pliant and malleable, as a lump of clay under craftsman's fingers.

The hands returned to his buttocks, kneading them gently, tracing the fading welts. Severus leaned and pressed his lips to the the small of his back and Harry whimpered into the pillow. Tongue caressed the weals, and then slid into the cleft between his cheeks, barely touching his entrance. Harry just shivered at the contact, his body arching upwards to meet the caresses bestowed upon it.

When fingers entered him, Harry groaned and pushed back against them, practically impaling himself on the digits. He would have begged again, but his own voice betrayed him, and he just groaned and hissed from the ache of the stretching and the ecstasy of the thrusts that struck against his prostate.

When the fingers were withdrawn, Harry parted his legs and lifted his hips eagerly. Severus slid his hands under Harry's belly and lifted him up to stand on all fours. Instantly and eagerly, Harry complied, trembling in anticipation. He gasped when Severus entered him, and started moving inside him, at a pace that was luxuriously and agonizingly unhurried. Harry's erection was throbbing wildly, and he was wiggling furiously, trying to press himself against the bed, but Severus took a hold of his waist and held him firmly in place, not allowing any pressure or friction to be applied to Harry's cock. Harry moaned when Severus climaxed inside him, and whimpered when he withdrew. Harry's entire body was a knot of frustration, aggravation and arousal.

“Please!” Harry cried out furiously, as his entire body was shaking and trembling, not even bothering to complete the sentence. Severus did not mind.

Severus snagged Harry's waist and turned him over to lie on his back, sliding his hands under his aching buttocks. Harry gazed down pleadingly, as Severus brought his tongue to the very tip of Harry's cock, just barely touching the stream of precum leaking from it.

All self-restraint abandoned, Harry sank his fingers into Severus' hair and pulled down hard, almost forcing himself into his mouth. Harry groaned as he thrust into that mouth as hard as he could, his hands gathering fistfuls of black silky locks, tugging and pulling on it. Severus just laughed a little, and the vibration of his throat sent Harry over the edge.

Having caught his breath, Harry released the grasp on Severus' hair and turned to lie on his side. Severus settled next to him, patted his face affectionately and asked, a little smugly:

“You realize, Harry, it's not particularly submissive to pull on your Master's hair when he is deigning to pleasure you?”

Harry snorted irreverently, but then cast a worried glance at Severus. “Sorry?” he said uncertainly.

Severus shook his head with feigned sorrow. “We will need to do something about those busy hands of yours. Perhaps restrain them to keep them out of the way.”

“You are just looking for an excuse to put me in bondage,” Harry said with a smirk.

Severus rose an eyebrow. “I was not aware I needed an excuse.”

Harry leaned against him, and placed his head on his shoulder. He was feeling completely relaxed and wonderfully exhausted.

“Good night, Master,” he said with a smile.

Lips pressed to his forehead, and arms encircled him. “Good night, beloved.”