The next day they exited the room early, after Snape returned the bed to its previous state. The house was silent, except for Dudley snoring on the couch. Aunt Marge had occupied his room for the night. Apparently, she didn't remember anything and was blaming it on the alcohol. Harry was thankful for that. None of the Dursleys emerged to see Harry and Snape off. They stood silently in the front hall, Snape checking his watch periodically. Just as it struck eight, a knock rapped the door. Harry opened it and was greeted by Lupin and a pink-haired Tonks.
"Wotcher, Harry! Hello, Snape!" Harry smiled at the cheerful auror and nodded at Lupin.
"Are you all right, Harry?" Lupin's eyes flickered towards Snape. Harry threw him a glance himself and smiled as he remembered the last evening.
"Yeah. Dursley's were a nightmare, but I'm fine," he reassured the man. Lupin had s trace of a frown on his face, but returned Harry's smile.
"So, Harry, congratulations," Tonks took Harry's arm and pulled him down the Dursley's lane. "How was your honeymoon?" Tonks winked at him, then turned on the spot, pulling Harry with her. His chest compressed and alarming darkness surrounded him, then he was standing on the porch of Grimmauld Place.
She pulled him inside with a cautionary glance around. Standing in the dark hall, Harry waited for her, clutching his bag. He heard voices upstairs and he thought he heard Ron's laugh. A minute later, Remus and Snape entered the hallway, as well. Only then did Tonks gesture for Harry to proceed. The group crept past the veiled portrait of Mrs Black, then upstairs into the bright kitchen. Harry steeped into the room and blinked.
"Harry!" Hermione flung himself at him, and he hugged her, grinning as Ron slapped him on his back.
"You all right, mate?"
"Yeah, fine." Molly Weasley was there as well, cooking as usual. Harry, Tonks and Remus were greeted just as enthusiastically.
"No, no, Molly, really, I can't stay-" Remus fended off Mrs Weasley's attempts to make him stay for breakfast. "I'm on duty, I've got to get going-"
"Me too, sorry Molly," Tonks said apologetically. They excused themselves and left the kitchen, Tonks waving at the lot of them. Harry noticed that Snape was still standing by the door, somehow excluded from the whole greeting ceremony. He hesitated for a moment, then walked over to him and leaned nonchalantly on the counter next to him.
"Are you going to stay here with us?" Harry asked. Snape sneered at him.
"Not likely, Potter- I will be returning to Hogwarts on short notice."
"Oh, but you've got to stay for breakfast," Molly insisted, ushering them both to the table.
"No, thank you, Molly, I'd rather-" Snape started, but this time there was no halting Mrs Weasley's mothering instincts. Harry watched with amusement as she all but shoved Severus into the seat next to him, wondering if she was still remembering the state he had been in last week. Snape fumed silently as she piled food on his plate, without bothering to ask him how much he wanted. Harry suppressed a smile as he was subjected to the same treatment.
"Harry," Hermione slid into the seat opposite him, her bushy hair wild. "Did it go alright? I'm sorry I didn't write, but we thought it would be best if we didn't do anything that might get your uncle mad-"
"It's fine," Harry said, tucking in. "It was alright, I guess. They were quite decent, most of the time, maybe because there was two of us." He glanced at Snape, who eating in silence, paying no attention.
"That's good then," Ron said, casting a wary look at Snape. He looked back at Harry curiously, and Harry shook his head lightly. Later. Ron nodded.
"We got your stuff for you," Ron said, gesturing upstairs. "School stuff, I mean. New robes and books."
"You went to Diagon Alley?," Harry said with a twinge of jealousy. He would have loved to visit that crowded street again.
"Yeah, we went to Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said, her eyes sparkling. "They've reopened a whole new section on medieval wizarding books and Defence Against The Dark Arts books!"
"We had to drag her away," Ron informed Harry darkly. Harry laughed and let his friends voices wash over him, a warmth settling in his stomach. Come what may, he still had this.
Snape excused him as soon as his plate was empty and whooshed off towards the fireplace, disappearing via Floo.
Now sooner did the sound of his departure fade, Ron leaned forward. "Are you alright, mate?" His voice was concerned. "He didn't – try anything, did he?"
"Ron!" Hermione sounded scandalized.
"No, of course not!" Harry looked at the sincere concern on Ron's face, aghast. The thought that Snape would have wanted to touch him hadn't even occurred to him. And while his relationship with the man could be described with 'strained' at best, the idea of Snape forcing himself onto Harry was- absurd. Molly Weasley smacked her son on the head with her dishcloth.
Ron cringed. "Ow! Well, I wouldn't have put it past that git to try something," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head.
"Professor Snape is a man of honour, Ron," Mrs Weasley warned her son. "You'd better not let him hear you throw this kind of accusations around, and I won't stand for it either! Or have you already forgotten that he saved your lives just a few days ago?"
"Okay, okay," Ron backtracked, raising his hands in defence, but didn't look convinced.
"No, really, Ron, he was alright, really great by his standards," Harry assured him. "He touched me once, when we were in bed-" Hermione started in alarm, "But it was only to wake me up. I was having a nightmare. That's all." Mrs Weasley nodded calmly, but Hermione's concern didn't fade.
"I didn't realize that you were sleeping in the same bed," she said faintly. Harry opened his mouth, then shrugged. "It's not that bad, really. I barely know he's there. Waking up is a bit awkward, though."
"Kick him in your sleep," Ron muttered and Harry laughed. They chattered on while Harry quickly finished off his bacon and eggs. He thanked Mrs Weasley and the three of them retreated into Harry's and Ron's room.
"Thank God you're back, Harry, I was bored stiff here," Ron said, sprawling on his bed . Hermione sat next to him, pushing his legs aside.
"At least you've got your homework finished now," she sniffed. Harry grinned.
"What did you do all day with Snape, Harry?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Did he make you study Potions?" Ron asked, as the new horrifying possibility dawned on him.
"No, I didn't do much at all with him, really. I avoided him, mostly," Harry answered. "Besides," he turned to Ron, darkly, "it's not Potions he will be worried about now." He told them about Snape taking over DADA. When he was finished, Hermione looked thoughtful and Ron wary.
"I wonder why Dumbledore finally let him get the job," Hermione mused.
"Maybe he got sick of him whining about it," Ron said. "Or he was fed up with everyone failing Potions."
"So then they'll be failing Defence Against the Dark Arts instead," Hermione said.
"Oh, I'd really like to see him fail me in Defence," Harry said grimly. "Or anyone from the DA, for that matter."
"Are you going to continue it, Harry? I mean, the DA," Ron asked.
Harry shrugged. "I dunno, there's really no point now, is there? I mean, now that we've got a 'decent' teacher again."
"It was fun," Ron said wistfully.
"Yeah Harry, I really learned a lot,"Hermione said earnestly.
"Well, we can always see what the others think," Harry said, unwilling to make any kind of announcements now.
"So how did Snape get along with your Muggles, then?" Ron grinned, returning to their previous topic. "Did they like the slimy addition to their family?"
Harry chuckled. "I doubt they'll be pleased now. My Aunt Marge was visiting. She really hates me. Anyway, she was having a go at my Mum, and Snape nearly throttled her. Oh, him and my Mum were great friends when they were kids, apparently." Harry told them the whole story, by the end of which Ron was roaring in laughter and Hermione looked appalled.
"I take it back, mate," Ron sniggered. "Snape is the best thing that could have happened to you. Maybe now that he's married to you, he'll be on our side!"
"He was always on our side, Ron!" Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "And I think that his behaviour was really irresponsible! He could have seriously hurt your aunt!"
"I don't give a damn," Harry said bluntly. "But the Dursleys could have thrown us both out, so I told him to stop."
"And he listened?" Ron smirked. "Mate, this is brilliant. Soon you'll just say 'Heel, boy' and he'll have to give Gryffindor lots of points." Harry laughed.
The week passed pleasantly and Harry was almost sorry to leave the peace of the musty house. He knew the news of his nuptials would have already spread throughout the wizarding world- both Dumbledore and Snape had hinted that they expected trouble to come of it. Harry mostly feared the reaction of his fellow classmates. He had spent so much time being shunned and talked about, he was almost used to it- but being the suspected heir of Slytherin seemed perfectly harmless in comparison to being the actual partner of Severus Snape.
They were escorted to the King's Cross by both the Weasley parents, Mad-Eye, Tonks and Remus. Frankly, Harry thought they would have been safer alone and unguarded, considering all the attention they attracted.
"Bye then, Harry," said Tonks, brightly. Her hair was green for a change, tinged with blue.
"Take care," Lupin said softly, patting his back. Both Mr and Mrs Weasley embraced him in farewell.
"-don't forget to eat regularly, do your homework and stay out of trouble." She gave them a last glare, before a whistle sounded and they hastily jumped aboard. A minute later, the train was moving and they saw the waving crowd disappear as the train went around a bend.
"Come on," Harry said, eager to get out of the corridor. Already, people were beginning to stare and whisper.
"Prefect duty, remember Harry?" Hermione looked at him sympathetically. "We'll catch up with you later."
Grudgingly, Harry spent the time with Luna and Neville, discussing school and Quidditch. Harry was beginning to think he might just get away, when Luna, in her usual dreamy voice, said, "Oh, and Harry, I'm sorry, I've been rude. Congratulations on your marriage!"
Harry blushed and examined his shoes. "Thanks, Luna."
"Harry, I-" he looked up, and Neville turned from completely pale to beet-red. "I'm-, I'm-"
"It's all right, Neville," Harry said, taking pity on Neville's stuttering.
"But why?" Neville had a desperate look about him. "I mean, why him?"
Harry opened his mouth, wondering wherever to say something stupid like 'because I love him' just to see the look on their faces. But he opted for the truth.
"Look guys, you have to promise not to tell anyone, but-" and he told them about how Snape saved them at the Burrow.
"-but he cursed Snape and we couldn't break it, not even Dumbledore. But it turned out that my protective charms were strong enough for the both of us." Harry shrugged. "Hermione said it had something to do with the deep magic or something. Anyway, I couldn't just let him die. Not after he saved Ron, Hermione and me. So I married him."
"Wow, Harry, that's really- brave," Neville said in awe. Harry smiled faintly. For Neville, marrying Snape would have to be the most terrifying thing on earth, more frightening than Voldemort and all his Death Eaters combined.
"It was a very nice thing to do, Harry," Luna said absent-mindedly, ruffling around in her bags, then pulling out the newest edition of The Quibbler. Harry smiled as the door slid open and a second year passed them a note before disappearing again. The note was from Professor Slughorn, who had invited him and Neville to his compartment.
As they entered, they were greeted by mixed-house students, Ginny among them. Harry soon realized every one of them had some kind of connection to a famous or influential person. His heart sank- he suspected the Professor wanted his own chance to interview Harry. He sat next to Ginny, who looked just as gloomy as he felt.
"How come you're here? I mean-" he felt a heat rising up his cheeks. Ginny shot him a dirty look. He hadn't seen her since he had been married to Snape. Apparently, she hadn't taken the news all to well. Well, she had no right to, he thought irritably. They had gone out with each other, last year, true, had kissed and had- done other things, but ever since Sirius' death- A girlfriend hadn't been high on Harry's priority list then. They had avoided each other politely while at the Burrow. Apparently, she had harboured some hopes about them getting back together.
"He saw me do a Bat-Bogey-curse on Anthony Steward. He was impressed." Then she looked away.
Harry sat next to her in awkward silence, unwilling to mingle with the others. Neville was currently being asked about his relationship to his grandmother and other relatives. Harry noticed he had started to sweat rather strongly. Finally, as though leaving the greatest sensation for the end, Slughorn approached Harry.
"Harry Potter," he boomed audibly, and Harry cringed. He glanced at Ginny, who shot him a vaguely sympathetic look. "The Chosen One."
Harry fought the urge to close his eyes in mortification. "How have you been?"
"Uh, fine, sir," he mumbled, willing it to be over soon.
"More than fine, I should think! Congratulations, my boy, on getting betrothed!" He slapped Harry on his back. Harry felt himself blush and hoped it would be rather counted as, as, as youthful happiness or some crap like that instead of the clawing urge to jump out of the window that he was really experiencing.
"Severus Snape, eh? A fine man from a fine family, very old." Slughorn nodded, as though any of it might be of significance to Harry. "Quite a catch he found in you, indeed."
Harry had no idea how to respond to that, so he didn't, his blush firmly in place. He heard a snigger behind him. "I imagine you're quite pleased. Not that the Potter line is any less dignified, of course- and your mother, Lily, was rather brilliant at Potions, I remember, very gifted girl-" Slughorn droned on, and Harry did little more than to nod at times. Finally, he was dismissed and fled the wagon, noticing Ginny headed off in the opposite direction.
Later, when the carriages had finally dumped them off at the castle stairs, he made his way up to the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione at his sides. He held his head low, trying to ignore the whispers that followed him. He sat down heavily, glaring at his empty plate. He resolutely ignored the staff table, watching as the Sorting proceeded and clapped politely as every new Gryffindor joined their table. Finally the food appeared, and Harry tucked in, hungry, as he had missed the food wagon.
"I wonder what we'll be doing in Transfiguration this year," Hermione said, looking eagerly at the staff table.
"You don't have to wonder," Ron answered gruffly, piling up food on his plate. "You've already read the book."
Harry followed Hermione's gaze and his eyes automatically sought out Snape. The man was focused on his plate, looking more sour than ever. Harry guessed he was not pleased at all the publicity both of them were receiving. At least he was used to this madness- and Snape was anything if not private. Harry sighed. Snape would blame him for this, for sure.
The feast went on until finally, the plates were empty and the noise level rose as most people stopped eating and started talking instead. Only then did Dumbledore stand up to deliver his opening speech. Harry barely listened, focusing on the coming hours instead. Despite already having spent a week in Snape's company, his stomach fluttered when he thought about the next term. At Privet Drive, he and Snape had been as much equals as they had ever been, despite the fact that Snape could use magic- they both had been dependent on the Dursleys and that had made them allies. But now, back at Hogwarts, Snape was a teacher again, a figure of authority. Powerful enough to make Harry's life a living hell, now even more so than ever. Harry gulped nervously.
The polite clapping and shoving of benches announced the end of Dumbledore's speech- Ron and Hermione stood up on his side, rounding up the first-years to guide them up to the Common Room.
"See you tomorrow," Harry said dully, then headed off towards the teacher's quarters. He remembered what they had looked like when they had still been Lupin's, then later Umbridge's. At least he could be sure Snape had gotten rid of any porcelain cats.
He stood in front of the office door, staring at it. He took a deep breath, then knocked.
"Come."
He opened the door, stepping into the teachers office. It was as he expected it to be- bookshelves, a desk, teaching posters outlining the critical points of a Shield Charm in relation to a wizard's body- standard teaching equipment, probably some relics left behind by former teachers. The door at the back of the office was ajar. Harry approached it, the threw in a cautious peak.
The adjacent sitting room was rather large, more so than he remembered it. The fireplace was alight in flames, a comfy looking couch as well as an armchair sitting in front of it. Harry let his eyes wander: Bookshelves, another small desk, a few chairs, a tea table, boxes- nothing out of the usual. Apparently, Snape had yet to settle in permanently. Harry had to look twice before he found the man, who was sorting in more books into the shelves.
"Mr Potter," he said, without turning round. Harry edged into the room, looking around. In the back, there was another door that led undoubtedly to the bedroom. Their bedroom. Harry swallowed.
"Professor Snape, sir." Finally, Snape turned around, and looked at Harry. He couldn't make out the man's expression in the dark, but he thought he heard a soft sigh.
"Mr Potter, there is no need to call me 'Professor' or 'sir' while we're in these quarters," Snape stated, and Harry thought for a moment the man sounded- tired?
"What shall I call you then, si-?" Harry bit his lip.
"Whatever you might desire to, Potter," Snape drawled, sounding more like his usual self as he moved forward, stepping into the firelight. "Although I might ask you to retain your more colourful insults, as we have to maintain a façade of liking each other."
"Harry." Harry said.
Snape looked at him, eyebrow raised as though doubtful of his sanity.
"Don't call me Potter, call me Harry," Harry explained. "Please," he added, in an afterthought.
Snape's other eyebrow joined it's counterpart and disappeared beneath Snape's hairline.
"If you insist- Harry." His tone still suggested Harry was slightly insane.
"It's just-" Harry struggled with the need to explain himself, "I know you're thinking about my father when you use that name. And I'm not. My father, I mean." He clamped his mouth shut, feeling what a blathering idiot. Snape's mouth curved into a belittling smile.
"Feeling insightful today, are we?" He walked over to the fireplace and sat in one of the armchairs, grabbing a scroll of parchment from one of the low tables. "It's late," he said pointedly.
"Right," Harry said sheepishly. He went on into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. With a wave of his wand he lit the candles and scrutinized the room. A king-sized bed dominated the scene, blue bedsheets. Two bedside tables. Brown closets, with his trunk standing neatly in front of one. A door on the far side.
Severus reclined in the armchair, resting the scroll on his lap. He didn't even know what it contained. He gazed at the fire and listening for any sounds that might surpass the crackle of the flames. After a short while, he heard water running in the bathroom, then silence again. He closed his eyes. And so the rest of his sodding life began. It would be like this from now on, the boy and him. The golden boy and the dungeon bat, even though he had changed his lair. He grimaced in distaste as he remembered the speculation the Prophet had published the days following their 'honeymoon'. He hadn't even dared look at the tabloids. Usually, he was portrayed as the greedy man who had gotten his hands on an innocent and susceptible boy, other times as the lucky man who won the boys heart, the guardian in disguise. One very twisted article had claimed Harry had orchestrated the marriage to gain influence in Hogwarts politics and strengthen his ties to Albus Dumbledore, who was Snape's known patron- as though the brat needed him to worm his way to Dumbledore. He had accomplished that before he had even been able to control his bowl movements.
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose- he was weary and wanted to go to bed. However, Potter might still be awake and he didn't want to bother the boy with his presence. Merlin, he had looked so frightened just the other moment- his defiant, disobedient, disrespectful manner, Snape knew how to deal with. His insecurity was something completely different. Almost out of habit, Snape would have liked to crush him and his petty fan-club. But he couldn't. He was now bound to the boy, and had spent more time with him than was advisable for his mental health. How otherwise would one explain his lack of taunts and general looming over the boy, hacking at his every frightened comment, relishing the opportunity to finally punish the insolent prat for his all his misgivings?
And of course the boy had chosen this night to be perceptive, possibly a side-effect of the fear. He would never come to associate the name Potter with anything less than loathing. Quite clever of the boy to insist he call him by his given name, distancing himself from everything Snape hated. Though seeing the way those Muggle relatives of him treated him, it wasn't surprising that certain survival skills had ingrained themselves into the boy's subconscious. He shifted uncomfortably as images of his own childhood came to mind, but he pushed them away. He rubbed his chin absent-mindedly. This term would be very different from the one before- no more summons from Voldemort, no more watching him torture, maim and kill. He was of a much smaller value to the order now, he knew. But it still came with a small relief, that he was allowed to distance himself from the horror he had seen. And now fight it openly. He listened again- the room was utterly silent. He dimmed the fire with his wand, then entered the bedroom, relying only on the moonlight and his memory to guide him.
As he crossed the room towards the bedroom, he saw that the boy had chosen the same side of the bed that he had occupied in his Uncle's house, namely the right. He washed and changed, trying not to think too much, then re-entered the room. He quietly slipped under the covers, trying not to disturb the bed. The boy had his back turned to him, covers drawn all the way up. Although Severus couldn't see more of him than a blob of untidy black hair, he was sure the boy was still awake. He lay on his back and stared on the ceiling, wondering if he should say something. But what was there to say? He closed his eyes and willed his weariness to take over.
The next day was horrible for Harry, and he guessed it was no better for Snape. Stares and whispers followed him wherever he went even more so than last night. Some of the younger students didn't even try to hide their pointing fingers. Snape had already disappeared when he woke up, their quarters vacant. He ate breakfast with Ron and Hermione, went to his lessons, endured Transfiguration, which was bearable. Maybe because McGonagall was an order member and knew of the circumstances that had forced Harry. In Defence, Snape ignored Harry, only criticizing Harry and Ron when both of them failed to cast any spell without uttering the incantation aloud. He refrained from taking points from Harry, pummelling the other Gryffindors. Only Hermione escaped his wrath, since she mastered the task almost immediately.
Red in the face with anger and exhaustion, Harry reasoned that he couldn't snap at Snape- it just wouldn't do and he'd pay for it later.
The day reached a new low after lunch, when he had his Potions class with Slughorn. And the Slytherins.
"Hey Potter," Malfoy's voice greeted Harry before he even fully entered the corridor in front of their classroom. "Potter, tell me, is it true what they say about wizards with long noses?" His house mates sniggered. Harry clenched his fists.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron was at his side in a moment, glaring at Malfoy. The blond boy sneered at him.
"Are you jealous, Weasley? Maybe you could ask Potter if you could join him and Snape, you could earn some extra credit, just bend over the desk!"
Harry and Ron both started forward, but were stopped by Hermione, who clung to their arms.
"Don't," she whispered. "He's not worth it!"
"Oh, don't worry, Granger," Malfoy drawled, as Crabbe and Goyle stomped to his side. "He wouldn't touch you, even a traitor like Snape wouldn't touch a Mudblood like you!"
"How's your father, Malfoy? I've heard Azkaban suits him really well," Harry spat, straining against Hermione's grip. "I bet the Dementors fancy him, coward that he is!"
Malfoy's pale face reddened and he whipped out his wand. "Don't talk about my father, Potter!" He snarled. Harry pulled out his wand, facing Malfoy.
"What's going on here?" Professor Slughorn appeared behind the Slytherins, craning his short neck to see over their heads.
"Nothing, Professor," Hermione piped up, forcing Harry's wand arm down. Malfoy lowered his arm, as well, still glowering at Harry.
"Ah, Gryffindors and Slytherins," Slughorn chuckled, his huge belly wobbling. "Little rivalries were common even when I was a student. But you must not let them escalate, I'm sure a bright student like yourself knows that, right, Harry?"
"Of course, sir," Harry said, not taking his eyes off Malfoy's furious face.
"Come on then, come on in," Slughorn lead the way into the classroom. He spent the rest of the lesson first explaining the Potion, then walking the room and examining their work, chatting with students as he walked. The atmosphere couldn't have been different than in Snape's class and Harry found himself relaxing, even as the Slytherins shot him dirty looks and the occasional rat's testicle. With Hermione's help, he managed to brew an acceptable Potion. Slughorn nodded approvingly as he sniffed Harry's results.
"Bit on the thick side, Harry, my lad, but a good start! Maybe there's of your mother in you than just her eyes."
"Yeah, her foul blood," someone hissed across from the Slytherin side of the room. But even as Harry whipped around angrily, he couldn't make out the culprit. All the Slytherins seemed to be smirking.
"Something of the matter, Harry?" Slughorn followed his gaze.
"No, sir," Harry muttered. "Thank you."
He accompanied Ron and Hermione to dinner, then to the Gryffindor Common Room. It felt strange to come here only now, instead of crossing it every time he went to or from his dormitory. He thought with a pang that his bed might now be empty and occupied by somebody else. When he asked Ron about it, his friend shrugged.
"It was empty last evening," he informed Harry. "But I dunno, maybe they'll someone there who had a row with his dorm-mates, or something." He flopped his Transfiguration book open and groaned as he read the assignment. Hermione was already scribbling something on her piece of parchment. Harry threw one wistful look at the staircase leading up to his former room and started working.
"Hey, Harry!" Harry looked up, almost finished with his transfiguration essay. Dean and Seamus approached him. They waved and Harry grinned.
"We were just wondering, what about the DA?" Seamus looked at him expectantly, as they flopped down at the same table. Hermione shot them an annoyed look. "When's the the first meeting?"
"Er-" Harry gazed uncertainly from one eager face to the other. "I wasn't sure if I was going to continue it, at all- Now that Umbrigde is gone, there's really no point-"
"Rubbish," Dean interrupted him rudely. "D'you know what kind of waste of time this year is going to be? Besides, it was loads of fun!"
"Did wonders for my grades, too,"Seamus added thoughtfully. "I mean, Snape might be better than Umbridge, but he still doesn't let us actually do anything, right?"
Harry nodded reluctantly. "Look, guys, I'll think about it. I'll let you know when I decide, alright?" His housemates nodded.
"Speaking of Snape, is it true?" Seamus cracked a grin. "Did you really marry him?"
Quenching his desire to scowl, he opted for something that he hoped was an embarrassed, but happy smile. "Yeah, we got married this summer."
Dean and Seamus shared a look of complete puzzlement, then Dean's face turned smug and he held out a hand. Grumbling, Seamus, took out a few coins and slapped them into Deans hand. Winking, Dean pocketed them. "Hah, I knew it! Seamus never wanted to believe me when I told him you played for our team."
Harry looked from one to the other, trying to keep track of events. After a few seconds he finally got it. "Oh, you and Seamus are- I mean, I never knew-" He shut his mouth and felt heat rise up his face as Ron laughed and slapped his back.
"Yeah, we got together last year," Seamus said smugly, throwing Dean an appreciative look. Dean simply grinned and took Seamus' hand. "I just had to convince him that I can give him things a girl can't," he added with a leer. Hermione turned pink over her book, while Ron seemed undisturbed by the innuendo.
"But, Snape-" Dean shuddered. "Sorry, mate, but it is kinda weird, innit? He's our teacher!" Harry shrugged helplessly; there was no denying that.
"It just, sort of- happened," he said helplessly.
"And after it did, you just decided to get married?" Seamus demanded, an evil glint in his eye.
Harry felt sweat break out on his back as he tried to follow Seamus track of thought.
"Well, everything else would have resulted in a scandal," Hermione explained, and Harry shot her a grateful look. "The didn't want to end it, or hide it, so they made it official." Ron nodded in affirmation of the lie.
Dean pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Well, to each her own, I guess, right? So, Harry, how is Snape, really?" He and Seamus leaned forward and Harry thought he might as well die now, because if Snape found out he had been spreading rumours about their sex life, he would kill him with his bare hands.
"Guys," Harry said pleadingly, ruffling his hair in despair. "Come on, you know I can't talk about that! He's your teacher, too!" Ron sniggered, but pretended to cough when Harry shot him a dirty look.
"Yeah," Seamus said, still grinning. "And now all I'll be able to think about in class is what exactly he is doing to you when the two of you are alone in bed-"
Harry groaned as Ron and Dean roared in laughter. But at least they were still talking to him, he reasoned, as he pointedly returned to his homework.
"See that you make him happy, Harry," Dean said, winking again, as he stood up.
"Yeah," Seamus agreed, taking Dean's hand. "Maybe he'll stop taking so many points from Gryffindor if one of us performs well."
They exited through the portrait hole, together. Harry looked at Ron and Hermione and saw the corner of her mouth twitch.
"Oh, shut up," he mumbled and opened his book on Defence with more force than necessary.
Finally, his work was finished, he was as adequately prepared for the next day as he was ever going to be and after losing two of three chess matches to Ron, Harry thought he couldn't put it off any longer. It was getting dark outside and he saw Hagrid's hut was lit. Making a mental note to visit him soon, Harry bid Ron goodnight and made his way towards Snape's quarters, his foul mood slowly returning. He reckoned that Dean and Seamus were not the only students who had been out of focus today in Snape's lessons. Oh bloody hell.
He knocked at the office door, but no one answered. Figuring this was as much his rooms as Snape's, he pushed the door open and entered. The office was empty and the door towards the sitting room closed. Harry eyed the doorknob for a moment as though it might bite him, wondering if he should knock. In the end, he simply opened the door, but slowly. The fire was lit once more, the chaos no different than it had been in the morning. Snape himself was seated in the armchair in front of the fire, in his teaching robes. Harry eyed the man's expression carefully. Angry, yes, sour, yes, but no more so than usual. Maybe it hadn't been so bad after all.
"Hello," he said nervously, then cleared his voice when it came out higher than intended.
"Harry," Snape acknowledged him dryly, his gaze not leaving the fire. In his hand there was curved glass filled with some amber liquid.
"What are you drinking?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself. He stepped closer to the fire and slipped into the opposite armchair.
"Alcohol," Snape answered bluntly, then took another sip and shuddered. He still refused to look at Harry.
"Oh," Harry said, unsure what he was supposed to say now. "So... your day wasn't good then?"
Snape looked at him critically. Harry noticed his gaze was slightly bleary and he wondered how many of those glasses he'd already had. "One could say that," he mused. "I suppose I could've done without the two Howlers and seven letters, all from parents complaining that I am child molester and molest children." He stared at the flames again. Harry felt his jaw slacken. Wow. Snape was plastered.
"Uhm, well, they're stupid," he said firmly. "I'm not a child and you're not molesting me."
Snape looked at him again and attempted a sneer, though it turned out slightly lopsided. "Damn right I'm not! And you'd do well to remember that, Potter! Harry. Harry Potter!" He downed the glass and cringed. Harry bit his tongue and tried not to smile. He noticed that Snape had some strange, convoluted accent when he was drunk. And his sentences were much shorter.
"Prof- Snape, you've got classes tomorrow," Harry reminded him gently. It was like rousing a hungry Buckbeak, but without a bag of dead rats to hide behind. Be careful, or he'll trample you and feast on your entrails. "Maybe you should call it a day and go to bed."
Snape glared at him, obviously having trouble focusing on his face. "Are you telling me what to do?" He demanded.
"No, sir," Harry answered, smiling. He stood up and offered Snape a hand. "I'm just- suggesting."
Snape grunted, then stood up with difficulty, ignoring Harry's hand. He stood, swaying, then nearly toppled over as he took a step. Harry quickly stepped to his side, steadying him. He held Snape's waist and noticed how thin it was.
"Alright there?"
Snape had his eyes closed and a death-grip on Harry. He nodded, though Harry saw his jaw working. "Dizzy," he muttered, opening his eyes again. He looked down at Harry. "Feeling me up, Potter?"
"Yes, Snape," Harry answered dryly, guiding Snape towards their bedroom. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long." Then he wondered if such statement were a good idea; Snape might be too far gone to appreciate sarcasm.
Snape shoved Harry away and swayed his way to the bedroom. Or maybe not. He started unbuttoning his robes, thinking about the next day. Snape would have a massive hangover, he was sure of it. Tomorrow was going to be hell for the both of them, unless- he started doing his buttons up again. Madame Pomfrey was sure to have something against hangovers. Or maybe Slughorn- he'd give Harry anything he wanted if he joined his little celebrity club. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly curfew and he didn't want to explain why he was wandering the halls with hangover medicine. He rummaged in his trunk and pulled out his father's cloak.
He rapped on the matron's office, mouth dry. Madame Pomfrey opened the door and frowned when she saw Harry. "Potter? What's the matter, are you hurt?"
"No," he said quickly. "It's just, I need something against- a hangover." He paused awkwardly as the matron pursed her lips disapprovingly. "Have you been drinking?" She asked fiercely, eyes scanning him for signs of intoxication. "Or are you just planning to?"
"No, neither," Harry said, praying his excuse would be enough. "It's just one of my friends, he's really homesick and he got his hands on a bottle of firewhisky and well-" He shrugged. "I just want to make sure he'll make it through the lessons tomorrow." He waited, his heart pounding. Madame Pomfrey crossed her arms in front of her chest, frowning. "How old is your friend, exactly?" She inquired. "Uhm, sixteen?" Harry tried to remember what the legal age for drinking alcohol was. He was sure Snape surpassed it, though.
"And he's suffering from homesickness?" The matron raised an eyebrow.
Harry watched his cover story crumble into ruins.
"He's really troubled...?" He suggested weakly. Madame Pomfrey snorted, but backed away into her office. To Harry's amazement, she returned with a vial of turquoise liquid.
"Tell your friend he's not getting any more," she warned Harry before she handed him the medicine. "He's to take it tomorrow morning, before breakfast. Not that he'd want to eat anything before he takes this, anyway. If you can, give him something to drink now. Water," she clarified. "And if I here a word about alcohol abuse this term, Potter, I'll know who to look for!" She thundered, giving him a threatening glare.
"Yes, of course, thank you!" Harry ducked out of the office and leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. Carefully putting the medicine into his pocket, he took out his cloak from under his robes. Hopefully Snape hadn't killed himself in the bathroom.
Snape was lying on the bed, spread-angled, in his pyjamas. He was stretched across both sides and snoring lightly. Harry frowned, then put the medicine on Snape's bedside table, along with a glass full of water. He cautiously reached out to grab Snape's shoulder and gave it a light shake. Snape grunted but didn't wake.
"Snape!" Harry said crossly, jolting him harder. "Snape, wake up!"
"Gerrof me, Potter," Snape muttered flinging an arm across his head and nearly punching Harry in the nose.
"Snape, wake up! You can't sleep like this!" Well, he could, but Harry couldn't. With a final tumble, Snape awoke.
"What?" He snapped, and for a shocking moment sounded sober. But when he looked up, Harry saw his eyes were foggy. Still drunk then.
"Here, get on your side of the bed," Harry said irritably. He helped a grumbling Snape put his legs on the right side of the bed and helped him sit up against the headboard.
"Drink this," he ordered, shoving the glass of water into Snape's hands. Snape drank a tiny gulp, then rested his head again, eyes sliding shut.
"All of it!" Harry snapped, becoming impatient. When the hell did he become the responsible one in this marriage? He was sixteen, for the love of Merlin! It was supposed to be the other way around. On the other hand, nobody had accused him of being a paedophile. Harry sighed as Snape obediently gulped down almost three quarters of the glass. Discreetly, Harry filled it again with his wand.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" Snape looked down at his glass and frowned in confusion, then drank some more, until the water was gone. Deciding that was enough, Harry took the glass from him.
"Alright. Er- well done," he said awkwardly. "Good night!" He fled into the bathroom.
Snape opened his eyes and groaned. Then he groaned some more. Merlin, what had he been thinking? His head pounded with every heartbeat and his stomach felt as though he had drunk pure acid last night, not rum. Gingerly, he sat up and waited until the world stopped spinning. Heavens. He massaged his temples, trying to remember what he had done last night. He had read through those horrible, stupid letters, then he had taken out the bottle of rum. He had waited for the boy to return, and when he didn't, come to the conclusion he was avoiding him. Which led to more rum.
Bloody hell, this had to stop. First he managed to blow up his cover, Potter and his lackeys had to save him. Then this bothersome curse, from which he saved by the sacrificial marriage, again by Potter's graces. Next, he nearly killed Potter's aunt for spouting those atrocities about Lily, and had to be stopped by Potter. And now the boy looked out for him when he got drunk. Snape buried his face in his hands.
At some point the boy had come home and put him to bed. Snape felt his cheeks heat uncomfortably at that thought. Then the idiot boy had woken him again and forced him to drink some water. As though that would be any good, he was hungover, anyway. He set he legs out of the bed, thinking he would go to the bathroom and wash up when he noticed the vial neatly sitting on his bedside table.
He nearly knocked it over as he grabbed for it and pulled off the stopper in impatience. He downed the contents in one go, grimacing at the extremely salty taste. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing his stomach to cease cramping, then pressure within his skull faded considerably. The nausea subsided and when he opened his eyes, the room had stopped spinning. Severus sighed in relief, cradling the vial between his two hands.
"Better?" A voice asked timidly from behind him. As he looked around Harry stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. He was already dressed in his school uniform.
"Considerably, thank you," Snape answered, eyeing the boy suspiciously as he simply nodded and turned towards his school bag.
"Did you get me this?" He asked, somewhat foolishly. After all, who else should be responsible for the treatment?
"Yeah," Harry answered, and looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Madame Pomfrey gave it to me."
"You told who it was for?" Snape felt anger and embarrassment rise up his throat- drinking on the first day of school, if this got out-
"No," Harry said quickly. "I'm not that stupid, you know. I'd like to live to see the weekend. I told her it was for a friend of mine."
"Well, then she'll never guess it was for me," Snape dead panned, looking down at the empty bottle.
"Thank you, Pot- Harry," Snape said stiffly, still gazing at the bottle. "I apologize for allowing myself to deteriorate into such a state last night. It won't happen again."
"That's alright," Harry said, and Snape noticed he was not looking at him, either. "If someone accused me of mistreating my students-" Harry shrugged and looked at Snape. "I'd probably broken something."
"It's no excuse," Snape said firmly, keeping sick feeling in his guts at bay.
Again, the boy shrugged. "I'm going down for breakfast." And with that, he was out the door.
Here you go, sorry for the delay. Real life, you know the story.
When writing, I'm aiming for humorous more often than not- tell me, am I succeeding? Have a line you liked in particular or found funny? Go on, tell me!