Hello! This is set in Harry's first year at Hogwarts. It starts mid-October time. Obviously, it strays a little from canon, but I'm going to try and keep it fairly close. It contains corporal punishment, so if that's not your thing, please don't carry on reading!

Please do leave a review if you have the time! As always, criticism is welcome. Enjoy! :)

Harry had never punched anyone before. After 10 years living of with the Dursleys, he'd had more than his fair share of being on the receiving end, but he'd never been the one to deliver the blow, and he'd never thought he would be either. It was brutish and aggressive and cruel; all words that you'd associate with an oaf like Dudley Dursley, who Harry had always imagined was his polar opposite.

It felt good, though. The adrenaline that had coursed through him as his fist made contact with Malfoy's face had made him feel almost giddy. The git had deserved it as well. Malfoy had been pushing and pushing him since he had refused his offer of friendship at the start of the school year, but Harry had managed to keep a lid on it and resist the urge to give the slippery Slytherin exactly what he deserved. Not today, though. The blond boy hadn't just crossed the line, he'd paraded over it and left it behind him in the dust.

A hurt whimper brought him back to reality. Everything was moving in slow motion. Malfoy was cowering on the floor, his nose bloody and a wild look in his eye. A gaggle of onlookers was beginning to gather around the scene, filling the corridor with hushed whispers. Rushed footsteps sounded on the cobbled floor behind Harry, and he was suddenly aware that he was being restrained, held tight by potion-stained hands.

Potion-stained hands. Oh no.

'Do. Not. Move.' The potions professor enunciated darkly, holding Harry in a vice-like grip against his chest. The order was unnecessary; Harry's anger had run dry and pain was beginning to shoot up his arm in vicious splinters from his damaged knuckles. Taking another swing at Malfoy was the least of his priorities.

'Mr Crabbe, Mr Goyle,' Snape continued, addressing the two bewildered lumps who were hovering uncertainly around their injured housemate. 'See that you escort Mr Malfoy to the hospital wing. Mr Malfoy, enough of the theatrics. Your nose may be broken but your legs are quite definitely not.'

Harry didn't miss Malfoy's blush at his Head of House's harsh words. The blond boy righted himself quickly, dusting himself off and assuming his usual haughty stance.

'See you tomorrow, Potter,' Malfoy said, smirking. 'That is, if you're still here tomorrow. I wouldn't be surprised if they expel you on the spot for being the most pathetic student the school has ever seen.'

'Oh, piss off, Malfoy,' Harry hissed back, tired of the blond's relentless needling. His stomach dropped as the grip on his arm tightened and he was jerked towards Snape. How could he have forgotten that the man was right behind him?

Snape leant down so his head was uncomfortably close to Harry's own, and said in a low, dangerous voice right into his ear, 'This is your first and only warning. I will not tolerate that sort of language. If you so much as whisper another word as vulgar as that, I promise you will sorely regret it. Am I understood?'

Harry managed a barely perceptible nod. His stomach was doing aerial acrobatics.

Seemingly satisfied, Snape dispersed the crowd of gawping spectators with a dark look and a dismissive wave and began hauling Harry in the direction of the dungeons.

Harry was certain that the walk to the dungeons had got longer since the last time he did it, or maybe Snape was just taking him on a different route to prolong his suffering. Whichever it was, Harry had had enough of being dragged through the castle by his sleeve.

'I can walk myself, you know,' he said, finally.

'Oh, really,' Snape mused, his tone acerbic and his pace no slower. 'Apparently you have a perfectly functioning attitude too. It seems you have multiple skills that it would be inadvisable to showcase at this moment.'

Message received. Harry resigned himself to the idea of being yanked through the corridors forever. Maybe he'd become Hogwarts myth, like the sort of stories you get in Hogwarts, a History. Maybe not, though. History of Magic was already boring enough, and he didn't want to make it worse for future students by putting 'being hauled down never-ending hallways like an overgrown toddler' on the curriculum.

After what seemed like several eternities, they finally reached the Potions corridor. To Harry's surprise, Snape pulled him right past the door of the Potions classroom. Instead, they entered a room several doors down that looked like it might be Snape's private quarters. Harry was bewildered by how peculiarly homely the small living space looked, but he didn't have very long to mull over it before he was pushed through another door and deposited roughly on a wooden chair.

This room appeared to be Snape's private office. A great mahogany desk lay in the middle of the room, with a cushioned armless chair on one side, and the small wooden one that Harry was now sitting in on the other. Bookshelves overflowing with eclectic tomes and manuscripts lined the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. This was the type of room that bookworms like Granger dreamed about.

Harry jumped a little as Snape shut the door behind them. The man strode over to the desk in front of Harry's seat and leant against it, facing Harry and crossing his arms.

'Explain.'

Harry shrugged and looked at the floor. He wasn't about to tell the meanest man in Hogwarts exactly what had made him punch Malfoy.

Bad move. His shrug seemed to incense Snape.

'You may have been pampered and coddled elsewhere, Potter, but you are in my quarters now and I expect you to at least pretend you have a modicum of manners,' the man snapped, his face set in a displeased frown. 'When I ask you a question you will answer it. Shall we try again? Am I correct in saying that you attacked Mr Malfoy?'

'I hit him, yeah, but-'

'But what, Mr Potter?' Snape interjected. 'How are you going to justify this one? Did he draw his wand on you? Say he was going to hex you, perhaps?'

'No, sir, but-'

'Ah, so he threatened you physically? Squared up to you?'

'No, but-'

'Just as I thought,' Snape said, almost smugly. 'A simple act of wanton violence from a simple boy who's used to doing what he wants with no consequences. Dumbledore's not here to protect you now, Potter. You'll soon find out that even being the Saviour of the Wizarding World doesn't put you above my rules. In no situation is it acceptable to violently attack an innocent person with the singular desire to cause them pain, which you-'

'It wasn't like that!' Harry interrupted, his voice barely below a shout.

'Excuse me?' the Potions Master growled, his temper rising. 'How dare you interrupt me?'

Harry cursed himself as he felt tears of frustration threatening to spill. He knew he shouldn't have spoken back, but Snape was making him sound like a bully. He was reducing him to something no better than a Dursley.

'I know I shouldn't have hit him,' Harry said emphatically, 'but he- Malfoy, he said some… stuff about my parents.'

Harry blushed at how pathetic he sounded. Lowering his head, he waited for Snape to make some biting comment about how he was too old to be whining to a teacher about someone being mean to him.

'What did he say?'

He looked up, surprised. He hadn't expected the fearsome professor to care at all about what Malfoy, his obvious favourite, had said or done. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, filled with regret at bringing up the subject at all. He couldn't rat Malfoy out! The Slytherin would know that he told on him and then Harry would be in a whole world of pain. Sighing, he fixed his eyes on the floor once again.

It was as if Snape could read his mind.

'I think you'll find that the consequences of not answering my question will far exceed any that Mr Malfoy could even imagine imposing upon you.'

The way the professor lingered on the word 'consequences' made Harry's stomach drop. He decided he'd much rather take his chances with Malfoy.

Harry gulped, trying to speak in a steady voice. 'He just said some stuff about, you know, how my mum and dad were worthless, and lazy too.'

Snape raised an eyebrow.

'And so you assaulted him?'

'Um, no. He said some more stuff, too.' Harry took a breath and glanced up at Snape, who seemed to be waiting for him to continue. 'He said that they deserved what they got and that I was going to grow up to be just as bad as them and… and that they should have done me a favour and taken me with them when they died.'

The last bit was mumbled, his words running into each other and almost dying out as he rushed to finish the end of the sentence. To his horror he felt hot tears prick his eyes once again. He swiped viciously at them, locking his eyes determinedly on the professor's shoes and waiting for the cascade of derision that was sure to come.

Instead, there was nothing. Confused, Harry chanced another glance upwards at the man. Snape was regarding him with a strange look. The displeasure from earlier was still markedly there in his features, but it seemed to have faded slightly. He appeared more pensive, and, to Harry's complete surprise, there was a definite hint of pity in his expression.

'Mr Malfoy does not know what he is talking about,' Snape said, his voice softer than Harry had ever heard it before. 'Your mother… both of your parents, I suppose, were fine aurors and even finer people.'

Harry couldn't help his jaw dropping. He was mystified as to why his hated, spiteful potions professor was sharing this with him, and as to what on Earth an auror was, but that was all overshadowed by the fact that Snape had known his parents. Before he could process it, though, or ask any of the million questions that were taking shape in his mind, the emotion melted off the man's face and the stern Potions Master returned, as if he'd realised that he'd strayed into territory he didn't want to be in.

'You were foolish to believe what Mr Malfoy said,' Snape continued. 'I knew you were not the brightest, Potter, but surely even an absolute dunderhead would not let words so obviously untrue affect him so.'

Harry cringed at the man's scathing tone.

'Mr Malfoy is eleven,' Snape continued. 'Exactly how many eleven-year olds do you think knew your parents, who died ten years ago, on a personal level?'

'None,' Harry whispered. The tears were threatening to return again.

'Correct. Quite obviously the boy was trying to get a rise out of you, and quite obviously he succeeded. You must get a better handle on your emotion, Potter, or you will be out of Hogwarts before you can even whine 'Oh but I'm the Chosen One, you can't expel me.'

Snape's tone was horribly mocking. Harry couldn't help but feel that the man was overcompensating for being almost nice the minute before. He did have a reputation as the tyrannical bat of the Hogwarts dungeons to keep up, after all.

The professor strode to the other side of his desk and placed both hands on the back of the chair seated behind it.

'There are teachers at this school who will be more lenient with you because of your celebrity status. Unfortunately for you, I am not one of them.'

He drew out the chair and sat.

'Come to me.'

Harry's eyes widened. He'd only been at Hogwarts a few short weeks, but that was long enough to have heard the rumours about how Snape dealt with misbehaving Slytherins. He had always hoped they were just that; rumours.

'You can't,' he spluttered, frozen to his seat.

Snape arched an eyebrow.

'I'm sorry?'

'I mean, you really can't!' Harry said desperately. 'I'm not in your house.'

'I think you'll find that as a member of staff at Hogwarts I am within my rights to discipline any one student however I may decide, even if that student seems to think they know better. It just so happens that those in my house are the ones on the receiving end of said discipline more often than not,' Snape said. 'Come. Believe me, if I have to come and get you, you will only be making matters much worse for yourself.'

Harry believed him. He steeled himself; he was eleven years old, and a Gryffindor at that! He could take this like a man. Swallowing his pride, he stood. It took a mammoth effort to stop his legs from giving in. As quickly as he could, he crossed the short distance around the desk and stood in front of the man.

Finding himself face to face with those unreadable black eyes for the first time today, Harry was sure he caught a glimpse of approval in them. Not possible; this man held nothing but hatred for him.

'Let us not prolong this further than necessary, Mr Potter,' Snape said. 'As you know, I am greatly displeased with your actions today. You have not only brought dishonour on your own house; you have brought injury upon mine.'

Harry flushed red. He hadn't thought about how what he'd done might reflect on Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall would likely be no happier with him than Snape.

'You acted rashly. It may have been provoked but that by no means justifies it,' Snape continued. 'Whether I like it or not, you have a big role in all of our futures. If you cannot control your emotions in a simple playground spat, I dread to think about what may happen when your actions have greater repercussions. You will learn to control yourself or so help us.'

'I am going to afford you the same right that I do my own Slytherins,' the man carried on, 'I do not believe in double jeopardy; once your punishment is over, you will have a clean slate regarding this issue. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir,' Harry said. His stomach was turning over and over with anticipation and he felt a little queasy. He wished Snape would stop talking and just get on with it.

'After I am done with you, you have 24 hours to apologise to Mr Malfoy. I understand that you may not want to do so immediately, but if I am to find that you have not spoken to him by this time tomorrow…'

Snape let the threat hang in the air.

'I understand, sir.'

'Good. Let us get on with it then.'

In one swift motion, Harry was deposited over Snape's lap. Had it been any other situation he would have marvelled at the easy strength that the wiry professor's voluminous robe apparently hid, but he was too busy thinking about the humiliation of his position. He had little time to stew indignantly, however, before the man's hand crashed down on his bottom.

Tears stinging his eyes, he bit back the urge to yelp. Bloody hell, Snape definitely had a weights room tucked away in his quarters somewhere. As the smacks rained down incessantly on his poor behind, Harry determinedly fought the tears. It was bad enough that he was upturned over his professor's lap like some badly-behaved toddler; he would not be reduced to sobs in front of the man.

'Come now, Potter, we both know it hurts, there is no need for this pitiful charade,' Snape said, his voice firm but not as caustic as it was earlier. 'You have my permission to cry.'

As if by magic, the dam burst. His tears spilled over in exhausted sobs. The fire that Snape was lighting in his behind was by no means the worst pain Harry had ever felt, but on top of what had been an emotionally draining evening, it tipped him over the edge. It was the first time he had cried in a very long time.

Snape continued raining down smacks. Harry felt himself being tipped forwards slightly over the man's knees and pain blossomed across his the top of his thighs. He let out a pained yelp and, to his shame, heard himself asking Snape to stop.

To his surprise, the smacks ceased. Two firms hands righted him as he struggled to catch his breath. Snape grasped his shoulders with both hands.

'Look at me, Potter,' he said, shaking Harry a little. 'There may well be times in your future that you need to resort to violence to protect yourself, but they are not in your near future. For now, you will not so much as think about striking another student. Even if they are not in your house. You will need all the allies you can get and letting things as childish as house rivalry come between you is desperately counterproductive. If you do so, you will have me to answer to. Am I clear?'

Harry nodded.

'A verbal response, if you'd be so kind, Mr Potter.' Snape's sarcastic tone had returned.

'Yes, sir,' Harry sniffed. Merlin, he sounded pathetic.

'Good. Hurry back to your dormitory now, then, Potter' the Potions Master said, dismissing him with a wave. 'I'm sure you'll have a gaggle of redheads waiting to check that I've not hung, drawn and quartered you.'

Snape's prediction was right. Harry had crept back into the Gryffindor common room, hoping to pass unnoticed by the few students still milling around, but he'd found a Weasley welcoming party composed of Ron and the twins waiting for him.

Ron took one look at him and breathed a sigh of disbelief, 'He really did it, didn't he, mate? Snape walloped you?'

Harry went beet red.

'How did you-?

'Know?' George finished for him. 'Blotchy eyes?'

'Ruddy cheeks?' Fred continued.

'Hovering tentatively around the sofa?'

The twins grinned at each other.

'Ickle Harrykins has had a whacking.' They finished simultaneously.

Harry hadn't thought it possible that he could go redder, but he felt his cheeks flaming. What would Ron's brothers think of him, crying about a few stupid smacks?

'Don't worry, Harry,' Ron laughed, patting his best mate's shoulder. 'Fred and George weren't so brave when Mum got hold of them after they bewitched our chickens to sing opera at five in the morning. You should have seen their faces when she brought out the wooden spoon.'

'Oi!' The twins exclaimed together. George threw a pillow at Ron's head, who in turn chucked a whole red and gold shrug back at him. It soon devolved into an all-out every-man-for-himself pillow fight, and Harry had almost completely forgotten about the lingering sting in his bum.

Severus climbed the stairs of the Gargoyle corridor up to the Headmaster's office. He had known the instant that he had laid hands on Potter that Dumbledore would have something to say about it, and surely enough the summons had come just after he had dismissed the child from his quarters.

He knew the Headmaster would have a word or two to say about harming his Golden Boy, but if he was honest with himself, he didn't regret one bit of what had occurred. Ever since James Potter's son strutted through the doors of the Great Hall at the start of term, Severus had been waiting for a chance to exact his revenge on the bastard's spoiled son.

It hadn't gone quite as he had thought it would, though. Yes, at the start, the impudent child had lived up to his reputation, displaying easy insolence and protesting at every turn. The boy clearly had a strong moral sense though, however much Severus was loath to admit it. He had admitted his wrongdoing and accepted his punishment with relative stoicism. Severus had struggled to not be impressed at how the boy had walked autonomously to him to receive it with the composure of someone twice his age. He couldn't help but compare it to the first time he had punished Draco in such a way; his godson had kicked and screamed and scratched at him like a feral cat.

Perhaps the Potter boy had more of his mother than him than he had at first thought…

Perish the thought! Severus admonished himself, knocking on the heavy oak door of the Headmaster's study.

'Enter,' came the warm reply.

'Ah, Severus,' Dumbledore said, a smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. 'Care for a sherbet lemon?'

'No, thank you.'

'Very well,' the older man replied, unwrapping one for himself and popping it in his mouth. 'I think you know what I have asked you here to talk about?'

'Potter, I assume.'

'Harry, yes,' Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

'I know what you're going to say, Albus, and I must warn you that this is the one topic we will disagree on,' Severus said, pre-emptively. The old headmaster had a habit of talking around the subject, but today he wanted to cut right to the chase. 'I harbour no regret about the way I dealt with Potter and would do so again in a heartbeat if I deemed it necessary. The boy needs to know that he cannot break rules that hold fast for those around him and get away with it.'

'Quite on the contrary, Severus,' Dumbledore said, 'I agree with you. Harry has had very little permanence in his life. It may do him some good to come up against an immovable force such as yourself to provide him with some constancy.'

Severus shot the old man a searching look, trying to discern whether or not he had finally lost it.

'If you are trying to suggest that I should take up a 'permanent' role in Potter's life, I fear that you are quite mad.'

Dumbledore chuckled.

'Now, Severus, be reasonable,' he smiled. 'Perhaps you need the boy just as much as he needs you.'

'Needs me? Have you seen the brat, running rampant with his little friends? He needs nothing but a large helping of discipline,' Severus said, his temper flaring. 'And me? I need no one, old man.'

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with something indiscernible that bridged the gap between amusement and displeasure.

'It would do you well to remember who you are talking to, Severus,' the man intoned. 'I am not going to force Harry upon you, but I would like you to consider it.'

'There is nothing to consider,' Severus replied bluntly. 'Perhaps it would do you well to remember who we are talking about – James Potter's spawn. You know precisely what that means to me.'

'Oh, Severus, I know exactly who we are talking about,' Dumbledore said, the infuriating smile back on his face. 'Lily's boy.'

That was the last straw. Severus would not let himself be manipulated by this loopy old man with his sickeningly saccharin view of the world. Not giving the Headmaster so much as a cursory glance in farewell, Severus stormed out of the office.

That's the end of the first chapter! This is not a one shot, I have plans to make it quite lengthy and I'm very excited! I'm just about to enter a long period of stressful exams at school, so there may be a few months without update but if you can hang on that long then I can promise I'll be back!

Thanks for reading and have a good day!