This takes place after the pensieve incident in book 5.

Harry stood before Dumbledore again at the end of the year, in that tradition that made Harry uncomfortable but also helped to explain everything. They had gone over what had happened, what Voldemort would likely do next, and what he needed to do that summer.

"There is one other thing," Dumbledore told him with a note of firmness in his voice. "There is one relationship that needs to be mended."

"Who, professor?" Harry asked. "Ron and I . . . "

"No, I'm talking about Severus." Dumbledore interrupted, crossing his fingers. "You saw some memories not meant for you and that has ended your occlumency lessons."

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted. "I know I should not have done so, but he was just so harsh and I really wanted to know . . ."

"Well, the cost of that choice is that he has ended lessons with you, and those are lessons that you need to master if you are to defeat Voldemort," Dumbledore brutally pointed out.

"I can try to apologize," Harry offered, but they both heard how hollow that offer really was.

"I have a different idea," Dumbledore told him, placing what looked like a regular school disciplinary cane on the desk.

"What is that for?" Harry asked, though he knew. His stomach felt drenched in ice water.

"You will take this cane and give it to Professor Snape, asking him to punish you for what you did with my blessing," Dumbledore directed, watching Harry closely.

"I cannot do that, professor!" Harry gasped. "He would kill me!"

"Is that really what you fear, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, leaning back in his chair. "Or is it really that you cannot bring yourself to humble yourself before a man you have wronged?"

"He is a man that has bullied me at every turn!" Harry protested. "What would he do with a Dumbledore-sanctioned beating?"

"I have asked you to trust me, Harry, many times when you really had no reason to do so." Dumbledore looked sad as he acknowledged this, but pressed on, "You need to trust me again. And there is the small fact that you do deserve it, and have since your first week of school here when you flew on that broomstick without permission."

"You knew about that?" Harry half laughed.

"Of course."

"If I am to be punished, couldn't you do it? Or even professor McGonagall?" Harry asked in what he hoped was a mature and not a panicking voice. "I don't think I can stand it to be Snape."

"It must be Professor Snape," Dumbledore replied, his voice much firmer. "And it must be tonight; this is something you both need. I expect you to take that cane to him now, I believe he is in his office at this hour. Then I want you to return the cane to me afterwards."

"I have never been caned before," Harry admitted, taking the cane off the desk with trepidation. "Mistreated many times, mind you, but never caned."

"Do not fear," Dumbledore assured him. "This cane has an enchantment on it, of course. It will only inflict upon you a just punishment; though not many know this limit. So, if Professor Snape's opinion of your just punishment should exceed that which the cane has decreed, you shall not feel pain. However, I would yelp a bit if I were you so he doesn't get frustrated."

"I will do this," Harry promised, turning towards the door. "But this is by far the hardest thing you have asked."

"I know that," Dumbledore answered simply. "You must trust that this is necessary."

Harry walked slowly to Professor Snape's office, trying to think about what he could say that would make this less awkward and less embarrassing. As his office loomed larger, he decided that the truth was the only thing that could possibly work. Concealing the cane in a fold of his robe from a group of younger students who passed by, he made his way to the door and knocked. Almost he began to hope that Snape wasn't there, but he heard an annoyed voice within call out, "Enter."

Gulping, Harry entered the room, his nerves jumping.

"Why are you here?" Snape asked, his voice dripping disdain.

"Professor Dumbledore sent me," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice even.

"Come in," Snape ordered. "Though it will do no good. You will not be more successful than Dumbledore at convincing me to continue your occlumency lessons."

"That is not why I'm here, professor," Harry told him, taking a deep breath and summoning every last inch of Gryffindor courage. "I am here for you to punish me for my behavior the other day when I looked at your memories."

"Punish you?" Snape repeated incredulously.

"Yes," Harry admitted, deciding to put it all out there. "Dumbledore sent me with this cane." He placed it on Snape's desk.

"Dumbledore authorized me to cane you?" Snape asked, unbelieving. "It is very rare indeed that he authorizes corporal punishment. And why would looking at my memories warrant such punishment when it is a fairly unexciting entry on your very long list of misdeeds."

"He said it was something we both need," Harry explained, embarrassed. "I would think this would be your fondest wish, professor."

"That is very cheeky for a boy whose backside is about to be at my mercy," Snape told him, believing. He slowly and deliberately picked up the cane.

Harry's stomach churned so hard he was afraid he would vomit, and he found that he couldn't look up. Though he did feel guilty over what he had done, he couldn't tell Snape that. And though he had been mistreated and had received his share of cuffs and kicks from the Dursley's, this was very different. And he didn't think he could expect mercy from Snape either. He watched as Snape cleared a pot of ink, quills, and bits of parchment off of the front of his desk.

"Take off your robes and bend over the desk." The words hung heavily, and fear blossomed in Harry's stomach. He woodenly obeyed, removing his robe and then bending over the front of the desk. His cheeks flamed red in embarrassment, he couldn't believe that Dumbledore had ordered this to happen. The embarrassment made him cringe, but there was also more than a little fear of the pain. He wanted to trust the enchantment that Dumbledore had told him about, except that he wasn't sure that he didn't deserve a harsh beating for what he'd done.

"Not even your father earned the cane while at Hogwarts," Snape sneered at him. "And you saw how he behaved."

Harry gulped, but did not reply. He had seen his father, and Snape deserved to be able to say it without contradiction.

"Well, you've said I was special before," Harry tried to joke, though found being bent over a desk with his bottom proffered for punishment not the best position.

"In fact, as far as I am aware, the few students caned during Dumbledore's tenure here have been as a result of their deserving expulsion and they have been offered the cane as an alternative due to extenuating circumstances. I am surprised that Dumbledore has thought it necessary for your little indiscretion."

"I think he thought it was a violation," Harry told him.

"And what do you think?"

"I should not have done it," Harry admitted, but noticeably did not say more. He couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the violation, nor how much he had paid for the knowledge that he had gotten. He felt that Snape was waiting for a confession or at least an apology, but Harry could not give it. Even if it saved his backside.

"Well, if I am going to enact my 'fondest wish' with Dumbledore's blessing, as you say, I am going to do a thorough job," Snape menaced. "I trust by now you are aware of your, em, position on the matter?"

"Yes sir," Harry answered, trying to keep his voice steady. "How many are you going to give me?"

"As many as it takes, Potter. Why don't you count?"

Snape tapped his backside, took aim, and then let the first blow fly. Harry heard the crack, but didn't feel the pain for a second afterwards. But then he did feel the pain, and it forced an involuntary cry past his lips. He almost forgot, but then said, "One."

Another crack, "two," and then another, "three." At four, the number came out as almost a sob. Tears fell at five, and Harry was barely able to say six. Several more blows rained down; and though Harry felt them, they didn't hurt. He counted, still sobbing though relieved that the cane had decreed only six strokes. He could not imagine the pain if he had felt all of them. Suddenly the strokes stopped, and Snape abruptly turned away. Harry's sobs slowed to sniffling, which he desperately tried to stop.

"Go back to your house, Potter," he snapped, then flounced his cape and left to the far corner of the room.

Harry pushed himself up off of the desk stiffly, his hands going to his abused backside and rubbed it softly.

"Sir, I . . ." Harry began in a ragged voice, but couldn't finish.

Harry gulped, took deep breaths, tried to gather his courage and then tried again. "Sir, I wanted to say that I am sorry. It was a violation."

Snape looked at him, and Harry almost gasped in surprise at what he saw. Snape was not triumphant, gloating or sarcastic as Harry expected. Instead, he was stricken, and looked close to tears himself. Suddenly Harry remembered the other part of what he saw in the vision - Snape had grown up as unloved and abused as Harry himself had. And when he came to Hogwarts, instead of having friends like Harry had found instead he was tortured by his classmates. By James Potter.

"I would give anything not to have seen what I saw," Harry quietly continued. "Up until then I believed my father to be perfect; nobody ever told me he had flaws. I was horrified to find out what he was like, what he did to you."

"I do not need your pity," Snape spat.

"I know," Harry told him. "I am trying to apologize. I was hoping you would take pity on me."

Those words hung between them in silence. Harry suddenly realized why Dumbledore had ordered this - it made him understand and have compassion for Snape, as well as face what he'd done and apologize. And in beating him, Snape had to face his abusive past and how he'd become an abuser. He also had to pity Harry, who was apologetic and vulnerable. This was the only way to heal the damage done, but also to be able to reach some sort of accord together. Not for the first time, Harry realized how brilliant Dumbledore really was. Brutal, but brilliant.

Not expecting an answer to his apology, Harry picked up his robe and then turned to Snape. "I need to return the cane to Dumbledore tonight. I think he wanted to make sure you didn't kill me, sir."

"Are . . . Are you alright, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, obviously trying to steady his voice.

"It does hurt a bit, sir," Harry admitted. "You did do a thorough job as promised; I doubt I will sit to breakfast tomorrow. But I actually do feel a little better, maybe less guilty."

Snape handed him the cane hesitantly, looking as if he wanted to say something. Seeming to decide against talking, he handed the boy the cane and Harry walked towards the door.

Snape, suddenly deciding, said imperiously, "Wait here for me, Potter."

Harry waiting, the cane heavy in his hand, wondering what Snape was going to do. He was tempted to leave anyway; he wanted to get into his bed and rest his aching bottom. Snape went into the adjoining room, rustled around, and then returned with a small vial of potion.

"Drink this as you're getting into bed," Snape directed.

"Further punishment?" Harry asked with trepidation.

"This will enable you to, as you say, sit at breakfast. It will also cause you to be sleepy, so don't take it until you're actually in your bed."

"Thank you, professor," Harry accepted the potion.

"And I will expect you in my office at 8 pm tomorrow night for occlumency lessons," Snape told him sharply. "I will not tolerate tardiness."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered. "I will be here."

. . .

Back in Dumbledore's office, Harry placed the cane on the desk.

"It wasn't too bad, was it my boy?" Dumbledore asked him softly.

"It did hurt," Harry told him. "But I will live. Professor, it's confusing really, but in some ways I do feel better. I realized that I needed to apologize, and I did. And Snape gave me a potion to heal my backside and then agreed to continue the occlumency lessons."

"He did, did he?" Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm sorry that it hurt, Harry, but I could think of no other way to do it. You needed to say sorry and you were unwilling to do so without some persuasion. And Professor Snape needed to feel sympathy for you, to see you as like himself more than like James Potter. And he needed to see where his anger and spite was taking him."

"I still wish there would have been another way," Harry told Dumbledore. "It really was a hard thing to ask me to do. And had there had not been a charm on the cane I would be in much more need of the potion than I currently am."

"Not the hardest I will ask, I'm afraid," Dumbledore told him, looking down at the cane. "In this war, Harry, the time will come when you will have to trust Professor Snape with your life, not just your backside. But for now, get your rest Harry."

"Thank you, sir," Harry answered. It was definitely surprising that Snape had given him the healing potion, and Harry found himself unable to account for it. Why heal him when he had just issued a harsh thrashing; so harsh that it exceeded what the cane had decreed by more than double? He thought about if he would have tried to get a healing balm from Hermione or even Madame Pomfrey if Snape had not supplied it, but decided he would not have. He was entirely too embarrassed to admit what happened, he would have just let his backside heal in its own time. Hermione would probably have figured it out anyway, he admitted to himself. With a rub to his backside and a rueful shake of his head, he took Dumbledore's advice for the second time that night and took himself off to bed.