starduchess: (hot-n-sexy)
[personal profile] starduchess
Author: [personal profile] starduchess
Prompt Number: #S40 submitted by [personal profile] nia_kantorka
Pairing: Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom
Rating: R
Word Count: 4050
Kink Showcased: figging (ginger root)
Summary: Harry is being crushed under the weight of his own guilt. Neville has a proposal that might help alleviate his sins.
Warnings: figging, spanking, underage (both are 16), hand job, angst
Author's Notes: Written for this year's [community profile] hp_kinkfest. I wasn't sure if I should add in the hand job there at the end, but it felt unfinished without it. Hope you all enjoy this!

Harry was nervous coming back to Hogwarts for his sixth year, not because of the usual school jitters, but from all the crap from Voldemort and the Ministry and Sirius’ death and the prophecy shite. He felt restless and unnerved, brimming with stress and worry. Trying to catch Malfoy in his misdeeds and running afoul of Snape hadn’t helped either. Hermione tried to get him to calm down, but he ignored her, and Ron was on his side of the worry coin.

His raging hormones should have been a welcome distraction, but he was so wound up that his libido was almost non-existent. It was a common unwritten rule in the boys’ dormitories that they each got private alone time in their beds after curfew once the curtain was drawn and a silencing charm went up. It had been amusing the first few times someone forgot the charm and the whole room listened to the guilty party toss one off. By sixth year, they were all pros at it and could usually tell when one of their number was having a bit of fun. Harry, however, was typically found thinking about the war instead of sex, and one of his mates began to take notice.

“Hey, Harry,” Neville said one day when they were alone in the dorm. “Is everything going okay? You seem extra tense these days.”

Sitting on his bed, Harry looked up from his Charms homework and contemplated what to say to his friend. “I’ve just got a lot to think about is all.” He shook his head to brush aside the comment.

But Neville pressed on. “Is it the war or what happened at the Ministry? I know I’ve thought a lot about it over the summer. You know, it wasn’t all your fault, Harry.”

Harry tensed up at this, pain and anger flitting across his face. “But it is, Neville. I led you all right there. And then Si-” He couldn’t even finish that sentence; his throat closed up tight in anguish as the horror of his godfather falling through the veil overtook him once again. He closed his eyes to push the images away.

“Hey, Harry, it’s okay,” Neville said as he moved to sit on Harry’s bed, facing him. “There’s nothing you could have done about it. He chose to fight and I saw it was Bellatrix who pushed him in. That’s not your fault.”

Anger forced Harry’s hands into white-knuckled fists. “But he wouldn’t have been in that fight if I hadn’t gone after a false image, if I hadn’t failed at--”

“Stop.” Neville put his hands over Harry’s to quiet him. “You can’t think like that. You made a mistake, yes. It cost you, yes. But you can’t let it eat you up inside. This isn’t good for you. I’m really worried about you.”

Harry was a little shocked at those words. No one had comforted him after the fact. He had been too angry immediately following the fiasco at the Ministry and then he’d been sent home to his uncaring relatives. The letters from his friends over the summer contained only vague and useless drivels, never talking about the events or asking after his current mental state. When no one had said anything upon returning here, he felt no one cared, so he’d buried his heartache. He’d let it rot inside him, poisoning his inner being, reinforcing the image his relatives had placed on him all these years--that he was a worthless freak. And this had festered into hopelessness. But now, one friend was taking an interest in his well-being.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted.

Neville folded his hands around Harry’s. “Talk about it. Gran had me do that every time I was upset about my parents. It doesn’t seem like much, but it can help.”

Harry looked down and shook his head. If only talking could help, but he was afraid it was already too late. He swallowed back tears. “There’s too much guilt. And everyone will be disgusted with me.”

Neville gave Harry a most serious look, staring at him, trying to read him for several minutes.

Harry gave a few tentative looks up at his face, but his own despair quickly forced his gaze back down and away in shame.

When Harry didn’t say anything more, Neville took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip in determination. “Look, Harry, I’m not sure if you’ll agree to this, but hear me out, okay? I think this could help.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but at least he lifted his eyes to meet Neville’s. He had a wary expression on his face, but there was a spark of curiosity there as well.

Clearing his throat in nervousness, Neville said, “Well, … um, there’s this old method of atonement that’s been used in Wizarding families for a long time.” He paused, waiting for Harry to say something, but he just got a nod to go on. “So, the guilty party comes before the head of the family and announces his sins and the head takes him through a ritual atonement. It involves a serious spanking and some ginger root.” He scratched behind his head and bit his lip again, signaling that he was unsure about this idea.

Harry didn’t look upset or disturbed by the idea, but he was confused. “Ginger root?”

Neville blushed a little. “Um, yeah. You see, you … um, you peel it and place it up your … hole, and it stings a lot.” His blush deepened.

“Why would you do that?”

“Oh, well, it’s to keep you from not tensing up during the spanking, so that the spanking becomes more effective. Also, I think the humiliation of it, you know, in there is another part of the atonement.” Neville wiped his face, shaking his head. “Look, sorry I mentioned it. I didn’t think you’d go for it anyway, but you seem so distraught that … I don’t know, maybe you could release some guilt this way.”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t have a family head. The Potters are all gone. My godfather--” He still couldn’t even talk about it.

“What about me?” Neville’s face was pure earnestness, while Harry just gaped at him. “You could confess to me and I could give you the atonement. Really, I’m here for you, Harry, and I want to help.”

Harry stared open-mouthed for a few more minutes, at first in total shock as to the proposal and then in thoughtful contemplation of it. Neville sat there quietly, allowing Harry time to process it.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Nev,” he said in a whisper. “Maybe … you think this could help?” He looked up and there was a shimmer of hope in his eyes.

Neville took both of his hands again and nodded in affirmation.

“Okay, then, when? Now?” He glanced around the room, a nervous habit he’d picked up over the last year while running from Umbridge and the Inquisitorial Squad.

“No, not now,” Neville said firmly. “And not here. Let’s go after curfew tomorrow night and head to the Room of Requirement. I’ll stop by and pick up some fresh ginger from the kitchens before then. Alright?”

Harry agreed.

They snuck out of the dorms the following evening, placing silencing spells and monitors on their beds. Patrols weren’t as tight as they’d been the previous year under Umbridge, but they still had to take cover once along the way. When they reached the proper wall, Neville walked past it three times, thinking of what he wanted for the room.

When the boys entered it, they found a small, formal office with a grand fireplace, bookshelves lining three walls, a mahogany desk to one side, and a single, high-backed chair right in the middle of the room. On the desk were several different paddle instruments ready for the choosing.

Neville walked over to the chair and sat immediately on it. He exuded a no-nonsense air about him, which was foreign to his nature as far as Harry knew, but it seemed he was playing a part. He started the proceedings. “I hear you’ve come to me asking for atonement. What is it you have done?”

Harry didn’t know if there were any formal words he should be speaking, but since Neville hadn’t mentioned anything, he just spoke from the heart. “I’ve led others to be hurt. I’ve been the cause of several deaths, and I’m a f-freak.”

Neville’s eyebrows knotted together at this, but he didn’t pass judgement yet. “Whose deaths?”

Harry closed his eyes in grief and fisted his hands as he said, “My parents, a boy named Cedric Diggory, and …” he trembled as the pain washed through him, “... my godfather, Sirius.”

“And why do you call yourself a freak?”

“Because unnatural things happen around me. Because I get into trouble. Because I put others at risk and get them killed.” Still trembling from these admissions, Harry opened his eyes and looked at Neville, resigned to his poor state in life.

But Neville did not appear disgusted or disappointed in him. “I see you have come here with a contrite heart. Let this atonement wash away your guilt. Do you accept the punishment for your sins?”

Harry nodded, hoping this would relieve some of his burdens.

“Then lower your trousers and pants and bend yourself over my knees.” He didn’t give Harry any chance to refute, instead turning to the desk and examining the paddles. He summoned a wooden ruler with a bit of spring in it that would give a nice bite on impact.

He turned back to Harry, who was hesitating on lowering his trousers, his face already heating in embarrassment. “I will not ask a second time for you to accept your punishment. Strip.”

Harry gulped but pushed down his trousers and pants. Neville gave him a small nod and then motioned to his upper legs. Face flaming in humiliation, Harry hobbled over to Neville and awkwardly lowered himself over his knees.

“Now, I’m going to carve the ginger root and stick it in you. We will wait five minutes or so for it to take effect and then I will give out your punishment--twenty switches with this ruler. You will count them and you will say ‘I’m sorry for my sins.’ If you do not, another five will be added. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said.

“After we are through, you will be acquitted and will be forgiven your past deeds. Okay?”


“Alright, here we go.” Neville took out the ginger root he’d taken from the kitchens earlier and cast some cutting hexes at it.

Harry angled around to see it being carved into a plug, tapered at one end and bulbous on the other, with a part left uncut on that end. The tangy smell of fresh ginger--a little citrusy, a little spicy--filled the air and tickled his nose.

“Okay, this is going in your arse. Don’t fight me and try not to tense up. I don’t want to hurt you getting this in. That’s not the point of this. Just relax and accept it, okay? Once it’s in, it will begin to burn, but it won’t actually hurt you. It will feel like your arse is on fire, but it won’t damage you at all. Understand?”

Harry nodded his head that he understood, not sure that he could get his voice to cooperate. This whole thing was humiliating and painful and he wasn’t even sure how much yet, but he desperately wanted to be absolved of his sins.

He felt the tip of the ginger touch his buttocks and tensed. Nothing had ever been placed back there.

To settle him Neville put one hand on the small of his back. “Relax. Calm down and let this happen. This is the easy part. I’m right here for you.”

Slowly, Harry forced his breathing to calm and his muscles to relax. Neville kept his hand on his back, a reassuring anchor in this mortifying situation. He felt the ginger root slide down his cleft until it reached his anal opening and he tensed again. Neville didn’t say anything this time; he just kept everything in place until Harry settled once more. There was a long pause, both of them not moving, and then Neville pushed the ginger inside.

It was an odd sensation, not entirely unpleasant, a bit like taking a dump but in reverse. He squirmed a bit at the intrusion, but it wasn’t very big and it slid in easily enough. He did tense again as the plug widened near its base, but Neville paused and let Harry become adjusted before continuing. The stretch became a bit much, but with a gasp from Harry, Neville pushed it past his sphincter muscle and his arse closed around the plug.

“There. Now it’s in and we wait for a few moments.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to expect, but he didn’t have long to wait. There was a slight tingling and a bit of a cool sensation along with the odd fullness. This lasted for thirty seconds or so, an awkward, pregnant pause where neither of them moved. Then the cold faded away and for a few more seconds there was nothing.

Then a warming started in. It was interesting, feeling heat where he didn’t normally feel any temperature at all. But the warming soon turned to burning--so this is what Neville meant. It felt prickly and tender, not the pain of a fire burn like he’d had once as a kid when Dudley had knocked him into one of Aunt Petunia’s lit candles, but it was closer to the pain of spicy food on one’s tongue, sending pinpricks into his flesh in never-ending hotness. His breathing picked up as he attempted to squirm away from the burning.

“No, Harry,” Neville said as he pressed more firmly on Harry’s back. to keep him in place. “You don’t get away from this. You can take the burn; it’s really not so bad and it’s really there to help you focus more on your penance. It will ease off once we’re done.”

Harry could tell that Neville was trying to ease his anxiety. “How do you know?” he panted.

Neville let out a small huff. “Had this done to me once or twice when I was younger. Gran did not approve of certain behaviour, so when I acted in a tantrum, she’d take me over the knee like this. Alright. Twenty swats, counted and with ‘I’m sorry for my sins’ after each.”

Not trusting his voice, Harry nodded his understanding.

Neville took the first swat of the ruler and it smacked unexpectedly on his bare flesh. WHACK! The pain was sharp and instant but then backed away again very quickly. It felt like a pinch or a sting of a needle. It was so surprising that he forgot what was to come next. Neville prompted him. “Harry? What do you say?”

He looked around at Neville from down below and finally remembered what the crack was for. “Oh, sorry. One. I’m sorry for my sins.”

“Good.” Neville raised his hand and smacked Harry a second time. WHACK!

He gasped at the sudden sting but was more prepared for it this time. “Two. I’m sorry for my sins.”

A few more smacks were placed on his bottom, and though he winced at each one, he maintained a relative calmness and even noticed that the ginger gave a strange counterpoint to the spanking, each pain taking his attention away from the other.


“Ah, six. I’m sorry for my sins.”

By this time, his skin was smartting for longer after each hit. A different kind of heat was beginning to build as blood flow increased to his lower anatomy. With each new smack, he squirmed a little bit more, trying to ease the sting. Neville’s hand was a constant presence on his back.


“Ouch!” he said and then gasped as his sphincter clenched, causing the ginger inside to burn more fiercely. “Ah-h-h, eight.” He was panting now, sweat beading up on his forehead. He forced himself to relax as he repeated the phrase, but it was with a bit of trepidation that he realised he wasn’t even halfway yet. “Dammit, that stings.”

“Relax, Harry, you’re doing well,” Neville said in a low, even tone. Harry could tell he was doing this in order for him to be able to accept his fate. Harry was very grateful for his friend’s help.

The next few hits ratcheted up the fire in his arse cheeks, and many times he tensed up, only to have the stinging burn assail him inside his arse as well. The ginger heat had long since abandoned the idea of one-pain-to-ease-another, and instead the two pains were working in sync to make his whole bottom burn.


“AHH! Ah, ah, ah, fif-fifteen.” His arse was completely on fire now and he was panting and gasping and on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry for my sins.” He really meant it this time. The pain in his arse was making him truly repentant.


“AHHHH! SHITE!” he shouted. This was too much. He was sure he couldn’t take any more. The sting went all the way up his spine. But he knew he had to count or he would receive even more strokes. “S-s-sixteen.” His tears started falling.


He was crying out loud now, scrambling to get away from the pain that had become his whole world, but Neville held him fast. When he had a moment to recover, he finally panted the next number, “Seventeen,” and the phrase.


“AAAAAHHHHH!” he cried. The pain was overwhelming and his vision became blurry.

And then something else happened.

He let go.

He stopped struggling and simply accepted the hurt. Still crying. Still burning. But he felt good about it now. He felt it was necessary now. “Eighteen,” he said with more calmness and resignation than he had before. “I’m sorry for my sins.”


The tears still fell, but the pain seemed to have crested. Once he accepted it, it was easier to handle. “Nineteen. I’m sorry for my sins.” He truly was and he truly wanted forgiveness. He was openly crying now, not from pain, but from the release of shame.


He felt the last sting, but he was much more accepting of it. He let it radiate through him, from his arse up to his head, burning his guilt away. “Twenty. I’m sorry for my sins.”

He lay there, panting, waiting for the next blow.He didn’t even register that that had been the last one. From very far away, he heard his name being called.

“Harry? Hey, Harry, you alright?”

He took a minute to come back to himself, to feel himself upside down over someone’s knee. Harry turned his head to the side and looked up into Neville’s concerned face. He didn’t quite comprehend what was happening.

“Harry, it’s over now. You can get up.” Neville gave him an assured look, letting him know they were finished. “I’m going to take the ginger out. Hold still a sec.” He took hold of the external piece of the ginger root and pulled it out, with just a hint of resistance at first. Harry gasped and then sighed as it came out, falling back with relief.

Seeing Harry’s lethargic state and concerned about his well-being, Neville didn’t push him into immediately standing up. Instead, he helped him slowly get upright.

Harry winced at his sensitised skin, as he raised his torso up. He couldn’t stand yet, so he ended up sitting sideways on Neville’s thighs, hands clasping onto Neville’s arms and robes for support.

“Harry, are you okay? You sorta phased out there for a minute.” Neville hung on to Harry, keeping him upright.

Harry took stock of himself and wasn’t at all sure why he felt calm and satisfied. “I don’t know. I just felt good all of a sudden. The pain didn’t stop, but it … I don’t know, was okay somehow.”

“So you accepted it then?”

Harry nodded.

“Well, good. Your crimes are absolved. Go in peace,” he said, blushing just a tad.

“Go in peace?” Harry asked, very confused, although when he thought about it for a second, he did feel at peace.

“It’s the formal closing for the atonement. You’ve been forgiven for your sins and it should make you feel better. Do you … feel better?” The formal closing had felt very rehearsed, but this final question from Neville felt very personal, one given as friend to friend.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I do. Thanks, Nev.” Harry paused and looked into Neville’s eyes. There was something there that he hadn’t seen before. Neville was quite confident. Oh, he was still quiet and reserved, but his confidence had grown over the last year, partly from his involvement in Dumbledore’s Army, Harry was sure, but also partly from natural maturity. Neville had grown into himself over the summer hols, and Harry liked what he saw there.

Without meaning to, without really knowing why, Harry leant forward and kissed him. Neville’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t refuse the kiss. Instead, he let Harry lead, tender and slow, but Harry needed something more, something now. They were both panting heavily when Harry broke the kiss to say, “More, Nev, please.”

Neville hesitated just for a second before cupping Harry’s jaw and giving him a more solid kiss. Harry moaned into it and was hard in an instant. He practically humped the air trying to get more stimulation. He whimpered in need and then gasped as Neville dropped his hand down and folded it around his cock. With just a few quick strokes, Harry was keening and coming all over Neville’s hand.

The two broke apart from their kissing and panted in unison. Harry blushed a bright crimson at what had just occurred, but as he lowered his eyes in embarrassment, he noted Neville was sporting a wet spot of his own.

Gaining back some courage, he glanced back up at Neville. “What happens now?”

Neville smiled, half in embarrassment, too. “It’s late. I think we get cleaned up and go back to the dorms. Can you stand and walk now?”

Harry tentatively stood up. “Yeah, it hurts a lot though.”

“Yeah, it will, and sitting will be a bitch for a few days. Definitely sleep on your stomach.” Neville nodded his head, past experience talking. He flicked his wand at them both to clean up.

Chuckling, Harry agreed with his assessment. “Thanks for the advice. Man, that stings!” he said as he pulled up his pants, hissing as the harsh cotton came in contact with his abused flesh. “I think I’ll be sleeping in the buff tonight.”

“So right, but at least the ginger sting is gone, yeah?” Neville asked, looking concerned again at Harry, as he himself stood up and placed the ruler back on the desk. He waved his wand and banished the used root to the trash.

Harry paused to think about it. “There is a little tingling left, but it’s duller than it was. That felt very odd.”

Neville laughed. “That’s one way to put it. And yeah, it is very odd but gets the job done. You really feel sorry by the end of it. Ready to go?”

Harry nodded his confirmation. They left the room, Harry wincing at every step. He was panting again when they made it back to Gryffindor Tower, but it was a short climb to their dorm room and they made it without incident. Harry quietly thanked Neville again as they tiptoed to their respective beds.

After he snuck inside his curtains and divested himself of his clothes, Harry lay down on his stomach and thought about the evening and his life in general. He felt lighter than he had in a long time, his burdens somehow lifted by the spanking and the release that came after it. He felt, for once, at peace and glad for it.

The burning in his bottom would be a welcome distraction for the foreseeable future. Perhaps Neville could help again with that.


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