"Potter, you're late," Draco Malfoy's cool voice sliced through the quiet of the library, making Harry Potter cringe.
"Sorry, Malfoy, I was busy." Harry mumbled, sliding into the chair opposite him, his heart racing. He'd been caught again.
"I didn't ask for an excuse, I demanded an explanation," Draco snapped, his eyes narrowing as he took in Harry's disheveled appearance. Harry felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He knew he was in for it now.
Draco leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "You're always pushing your luck, aren't you?" He reached into his robe, pulling out a thin leather strap. Harry's eyes widened as he recognized it, his mouth going dry.
The library, usually a sanctuary of quiet whispers and the rustle of parchment, now felt like a prison cell, the air thick with tension. The crack of the strap as Draco slapped it against his palm made Harry's skin crawl. He knew the sting it could deliver all too well.
"Take off your shirt," Draco ordered, his eyes glinting with something darker than anger. Harry hesitated, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a way out. But there was none; they were the only ones there, the rest of the school blissfully unaware of the scene about to unfold.
Slowly, Harry pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his pale, slender torso. He felt vulnerable, exposed under Draco's scrutinizing gaze. The cold leather of the strap brushed against his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake as Draco traced it from his neck to his waist.
"You've been a naughty boy," Draco said, his voice a mix of scolding and something Harry couldn't quite place. He stepped around the table, standing behind Harry. The strap hovered in the air before it came down with a sharp snap across Harry's shoulders. Harry gasped, his eyes squeezing shut. The pain was sharp and immediate, leaving a red welt in its wake.
Another lash followed, and another, each one a little harder than the last. Harry bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape. The sound of leather on skin echoed through the library, punctuated by his own sharp inhales and the occasional thud of the strap hitting the wooden chair. His shoulders began to burn, the pain spreading like wildfire across his back.
Draco's arm was a blur, the strap a whirlwind of punishment. Harry could feel the welts rising, the heat of his own skin under the onslaught. His eyes watered, but he didn't dare to look up. Instead, he focused on the coolness of the chair beneath him and the way the leather strap smelled faintly of Draco's cologne. It was a strange comfort amidst the pain.
"This is what you deserve," Draco ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. Harry swallowed hard, trying to keep his breathing even. He knew if he didn't, he'd end up with more than just the sting of the strap.
"Goddamnit," Harry murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as the strap met his flesh once more. He felt his shoulders tense, bracing for the pain that was to come. The lashes continued to rain down, each one a little sharper than the last. The sound of leather striking skin filled the library, a rhythmic crescendo of punishment that seemed to echo off the ancient tomes surrounding them. Harry's skin grew hot and slick with sweat, and he could feel the beginnings of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
"Fuck," he gritted out, as the strap snapped against the base of his neck, making him wince. Draco's breath was warm against his ear, his grip on Harry's shoulder tight. "You have been bad. How could you be bad to your Dom. You know you deserve this," he whispered, the promise of more pain in his tone. Harry nodded, biting down on his tongue to keep from crying out. The strap landed again, this time across his upper back, leaving a trail of fire.
"Ow," Harry mumbled, his voice shaking. The tears slipped free, tracing paths down his cheeks, dropping onto the cold stone floor. Each lash brought a fresh wave of pain, and with it, a strange sense of relief. It was a tangible consequence for his actions, something he could understand and endure. The leather strap was a language they both knew well, a dance they'd performed too many times to count.
