Worst Punishment

Worst Punishment

Pairings: Dumbledore/Harry

Rated: NC-17

Notes and warnings: Slash, drunk!Harry, possible squick, kinky things, chan-slash? I don\'t think he\'s too young in this. Sixteen/seventeen, perhaps? I’m sorry that I had to write something like this. I’m a sick puppy sometimes. :) Oh, and sorry about the lamish title. Couldn’t think of anything else.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters. I only make them do sick things.

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He was in so much trouble and he knew it. From the moment that he stepped into Hogsmeade with the urge to get plastered, he just knew that he was asking to be expelled.

Harry Potter had stumbled his way back through the hidden tunnel and out of the Hunchback witch’s hump, nearly falling flat on his face in the process. He giggled slightly as he got back onto his feet and took out his wand, untangling it from his robe.

“L-Lumosh… lummosh… shhit!” he wasn’t in a state of speaking well, being as sloshed as he was. He couldn’t even light his fucking wand! “Oh, pishh on it!” Harry slipped his wand back into his robe and tried to find his way around the dark corridor without finding a wall, face first.

He did, however, run face first into a certain teacher. As he rounded the corner, albeit a bit too fast, he collided with Professor Snape, almost smacking his chin on the professor’s shoulder.

“Potter!” Snape bellowed.

“Shh!” Harry put his finger to his lips, “I got… I gots a headache…” he leaned his head on Snape.

“Out after curfew, and drunk! You’re definitely getting expelled for this, Mr. Potter.”

Harry got up real close to Snape’s face, “Don’t… don’t tell anybody…” he whispered harshly, “pleasssh, professhhor? I had a few ma… me… maidens… no. Meads.” He giggled.

“You’re going straight to the headmaster for this one, Potter, and then out the door!”

Harry’s grasp on Snape’s robe tightened as he swayed slightly, “Ooo… did anyone tell you that your eyesh shhhparkle when you’re angry?”

“Stop pawing me, Potter, and follow me.”

“Aww, but… but Professhor!” Snape took hold of Harry by his upper arms and hauled him toward the headmaster’s office. He said the password and then pushed him inside.

“No back talk. Now, move it.” Snape helped him up the stairs by the scruff of his robes. Harry was laughing through most of it, clearly not understanding the trouble that he was in.

“Ooo… Shnapey is shtrong!”

Snape knocked on the headmaster’s door. “Enter,” said Dumbledore, and Snape opened the door and shoved Harry inside first.

“How rude!” Harry pouted and crossed his arms.

“Sir, I have caught Potter out after curfew, and he’s…” Snape looked over to see Harry making kissy faces at Fawkes.

“Who’s a good birdie? You’re such a good, pretty birdie…”

“…Drunk.” Snape finished.

“I see.” Dumbledore raised a brow at Harry.

“Pretty birdie wanna sing for me?” Harry cooed at Fawkes. The phoenix ruffled his feathers and chirped a bit. Harry tilted his head so that he could look at Fawkes upside down.

“Harry,” Dumbledore beckoned Harry to him. Harry smiled, straightened himself out, and then obeyed.

“Yesh, shhir?” Harry said, leaning over the desk.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry’s eyes widened. Then Harry crossed his eyes as he tried to stare at the end of the wand. Dumbledore mumbled a spell, and suddenly Harry was looking less and less intoxicated.

Harry stood up straighter and looked around him, somewhat confused. “Sir? What am I doing here?”

“You were drunk.”

Harry’s eyes widened again as he began to remember the last thing he did. He was feeling in a slump about how things were turning out, so he decided to go get plastered and… well, he didn’t remember the trip back to Hogwarts, and he was guessing that he must have gotten caught. Harry turned around and discovered just who it was that had brought him there.

“Oh, crap.”

“Yes, Mr. Potter,” said Snape, “and you’re in a lot of it. Don’t you know that it is forbidden for students to go out and get drunk? Especially on a school night?”

Harry gulped and then looked over at Dumbledore, who nodded his head with a slight frown. “I thought you knew better, Harry.”

“I… I didn’t think I’d get too drunk. I mean… I just… just didn’t care anymore.”

“Didn’t care??” Snape shouted.

“Severus, don’t lose your temper now. I will take care of things from here.”

“I demand that he get punished severely, sir! If you don’t expel him, then at least give him a punishment that will make him think twice before he decides to go out on a drinking binge.”

“I will, Severus. Thank you. You can leave now.”

Snape exited the room with a scowl on his face. After he shut the door behind him, Harry turned to face the headmaster.

Dumbledore stood from his chair and walked around his desk, “Now, Harry… I am going to give you cho choices. You know that what you did merits expulsion, but I won’t do it. What I will do is give you a choice between punishments. What would you rather have me do? Give you detention, or take away a lot of House points?”

Harry looked away, “I’d rather have detention.”

“I see,” Dumbledore said, and then he moved around to the back of his desk again, “would you rather have me take away points, or… use the paddle on you.”

Harry stiffed, his eyes bulging slightly. “Wh-what? What do you mean by ‘use the paddle’? Sir, I didn’t think that that sort of thing is allowed anymore.”

“It’s not practiced much anymore, but sometimes one must do what one can in order to get things through to some students. So, what would you rather have?”

“I’d rather have points taken away, actually…”

Dumbledore raised a brow, “Are you sure?”

Harry nodded, rather confused by what was going on.

“Right,” Dumbledore sat back onto his chair, “Spankings it is, then.” Harry gasped at this. “It’s only natural that I pick the one punishment that you wouldn’t want to do, otherwise it wouldn’t be a punishment, would it? Come here, Harry,” Dumbledore beckoned.

Harry slowly approached the headmaster, feeling very nervous. He hadn’t been sed, ed, over someone’s knee or lap, in such a long time. had had been punished, spanspanked, by Aunt Petunia a few times when he was younger, but he doubted that it would be as embarrassing as this would. He was only a kid then, not a sixteen-year-old boy who’d been having weird fantasies about doing kinky things with others – men and women alike.

“Yes, sir?” Harry said when he stood right next to the headmaster.

“You know what you gotta do, Harry.”

Harry gulped, “Um… over your knee, or the desk?”

Dumbledore thought on it for a moment before saying, “over my knee.”

Very hesitantly, Harry complied to obey the headmaster, even though he really didn’t want to. He had the urge to run away, but he didn’t think that would fare well. Harry undid his belt, unfastened his trousers, and then slipped them down his hips just enough so that only his bottom was sticking out. Carefully, with deliberate slowness, Harry lowered himself over the professor’s lap. He had to put one hand on the edge of the chair and the other one gripped at Dumbledore’s knee so that he wouldn’t slip off.

“Unfortunately, Harry, I can’t go soft on you. Not this time,” said Dumbledore. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a wooden paddle. Harry wasn’t sure if he was thankful that Dumbledore wasn’t going to use his hand, or if he was disturbed by the fact that the wooden paddle would do much more harm if Dumbledore was actually going to use all of his strength behind it.

When Harry said nothing, the headmastert aht ahead and whacked the paddle across Harry’s bare behind. The loud, smacking sound filled the room, followed by a small gasp from Harry. He would not scream, he would not cry out, he would not make much noise… he was strong, and he could handle this. He would not show weakness. Paddle met his bum once again, and Harry caught himself from squeaking too loudly. Dumbledore was true to his word: he was not being soft on Harry.

After what was about the twentieth smack from the paddle, Dumbledore stopped. Harry shifted a bit, biting down on his lower lip to keep from making any kind of noise. Suddenly, without warning, Dumbledore’s hand came crashing down. It startled Harry in such a way that he forgot to stay quiet, and he half-gasped, half-moaned. The paddle had made such a stinging red mark on his buttocks, that the feel of a cold hand, landing hard on it like that, felt oddly… good. When Dumbledore didn’t stop using his hand, Harry had lly lly found his voice.

“Sir! What are you doing?”

“What does it look like… I mean, feel like I’m doing?” Smack!

Harry jumped. He bit his lip again to keep from crying out, “You’re using your hand, sir. W-why?”

“Because,” smack, “it occurred to me,” smack, “that you would rather,” smack, “have me use,” SMACK, “the paddle.”

Harry whined softly, “Sir… please, don’t…” he stiffed when he felt Dumbledore’s cool hand resting on one of his butt cheeks. That hand moved, gently and slowly, and Harry felt his face going red. “Sir?”

“Be quiet, Harry.” Dumbledore said kindly. He began to massage Harry’s reddened cheeks with the one hand, and then suddenly moved the other to Harry’s lower back, massaging in the same way.

Harry was extremely baffled. And red as a tomato. He had never, in all of his life, been touched like this. Then, suddenly, there was a hand in the front of his trousers, and fingers exploring the delicate skin underneath his crevice. Those fingers slid further down, touching his testicles lightly, and then the other hand had found his half-hardened cock. Harry bowed his head in embarrassment and confusion, not sure what to do. He was shaking, and even though he wouldn’t admit it, he was also a tad scared.

The headmaster parted Harry’s thighs a bit, so that one of his feet had to bump into the desk, and the leg almost slipped from the man’s lap. Dumbledore saw Harry’s body waskingking, but he wasn’t sure what it was from. He put an elbow on Harry’s back to hold him steady, while he began to jerk the boy off. Harry sucked in his bottom lip and screwed his eyes shut, willing himself not to cry out in any kind of passion. The other hand moved from his balls, up to his crevice, and then there was a finger by his ho Har Harry squeezed his cheeks together instinctively, as he was startled. He thought he heard the old man whisper something, and then there was a sudden cold, wetness around his arsehole. He did his best not to make a sound.

When he did feel a finger slide inside of him, however, he did end up whimpering. His cock jumped slightly in Dumbledore’s hand, and he squirmed. He wasn’t sure if he was squirming to get free, or to feel more.

“Relax, Harry, it’ll be all right… that’s a good boy… how does that feel? Steady, now, Harry…” a kiss behind the neck, “it’ll be fine. You like that?” A second finger enters him, “How about this?” A hard squeeze around his cock. “Harry…”

Shaking with arousal, humiliation, and fear, Harry moaned. His traitorous hormones getting the better of him wanted more. He bucked his hips to gain more friction, and because of this, the headmaster sped up his ministrations.

Before he knew it, he was coming… hard, into the headmaster’s hand and inside of his trousers. Harry let out a relieved sigh, both in the aftermath of the orgasm and that it was the end. Dumbledore slipped out his fingers and hand from his pants, and then slapped Harry one last time, on his arse. Harry gasped out loud in surprise.

“Next time you decide to go out drinking to get drunk, Harry, I suggest you think of what the consequences are first.”

Harry got up slowly, his face still flushed pink and eyes glossy from it all, and pulled up his trousers. He didn’t look at the headmaster as he left the room in a hurry, not willing to tell a soul about what happened that day.

But, a few weeks later, Harry’s feet carried him back to the Hogs Head, willing to get sloshed and jerked off once more.

~End~