CHAPTER 3

A/N: I forgot to mention that this story follows books 1 till 5. In the meantime...Snarry Christmas ;-)

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My last summer with the Dursleys was worse than usual. Without my voice, I was vulnerable and exposed to the verbal scorn of my relatives. Dudley, however, had withdrawn into himself. He was doing a lot of thinking after that nasty incident with the Dementor; and serious thinking definitely did not belong to my cousin's favourite pastimes. I, too, was left with too much time and too much to think over. I was coming to the conclusion that I was nothing more than a pawn.

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Harry was waiting in his room at Privet Drive, his trunk packed. In addition, he was carrying a rucksack filled with things which hadn't fit inside the trunk: clothes, books, some Quidditch gear, a bag of owl treats for Hedwig and other miscellaneous articles. Hedwig was cleaning her wing busily with her beak. The remaining days of the Hogwarts term had flown past like migrating birds. A group of the Order of the Phoenix was scheduled to Apparate in the kitchen of the Dursley home. A note had been dispatched to the Dursleys via owl post, warning the Dursleys in advance of this step. Uncle Vernon had naturally nearly had an attack of apoplexy, bellowing that he would never allow a bunch of freaks to enter his home – it was bad enough that he had been housing a freak for years. Petunia, on the other hand, had actually looked relieved. She would finally be rid of Harry, rid of the constant reminder of the sister whose memory she still despised. Dudley had not said anything. He had been abnormally quiet and withdrawn since his encounter with the Dementor. Harry knew that he had probably got a taste of his worst fears during said encounter and was now undergoing a period of decidedly unusual introspection – much to Petunia's and Vernon's consternation. They naturally blamed Harry for Dudley's condition and were only too eager to see him go. Dumbledore had written a letter to the Dursleys explaining the whole situation to the Dursleys, excluding Harry's upcoming marriage with Severus and including the fact that Harry had lost his voice. Vernon and Petunia had made sneering remarks about Harry's muteness and treated him like a person of exceedingly limited intelligence during the summer holidays, enunciating each word slowly, sometimes even spelling it out or repeating it several times.

Harry scratched the knee of his jeans as he waited. He wondered whether Severus would treat him similarly. He thought of the wedding, which was to take place the very next day. He thought of living down in the dungeons with Severus. He thought of having to consummate the wedding within three months after the civil wedding ceremony. He stared at Hedwig's cage and imagined that he was occupying it instead of the owl. There was a sudden hum of voices in the kitchen. Harry stood up and opened the door. He turned on the threshold and surveyed his room intently, taking one last good look at its walls – he would probably never see it again. In spite of his loveless childhood and adolescence, he could recall happy moments which he had experienced in his aunt's and uncle's house – receiving letters and gifts from his friends, enjoying Hedwig's company, reading his Hogwarts books...

"Harry Potter!" Alastor Moody's growling voice floated up the stairs. Harry went down. It struck him as a particularly cruel irony that he was allowed to use magic wherever and whenever he wanted now that he was age but could not because of his muteness. He dragged his trunk down the stairs. A throng of wizards and witches was awaiting him in the kitchen; the Dursleys had barricaded themselves away in the bedroom, not bothering to say bye to Harry or wish him good luck in spite of what they had read in Dumbledore's note. Harry had expected such behaviour – or rather, he had simply not expected anything at all.

"There you are!" Nymphadora Tonks said, her strikingly pink hair illuminating the kitchen. Remus Lupin was standing next to her, tired, shabby and shaggy, but smiling.

Kingsley Shacklebolt shook Harry's hand warmly and spoke in his deep calm voice:

"Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded.

"Have you said goodbye to your relatives?" Tonks asked. Harry shrugged. Remus's eyes followed the momentary rise and fall of Harry's thin shoulders.

"Your friends are waiting for you," he said gently, pulling out a small saucepan – the Portkey which would transport the group to Grimmauld Place.

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Harry experienced a twisting sensation in his heart as he arrived at Grimmauld Place via Portkey. There was no Sirius to welcome him.

"Harry!" He was enveloped in Molly Weasley's arms. The twins, Ron, Ginny and Hermione were clustered around her; Ron was holding an enormous chocolate cake which his mother had baked in honour of Harry's birthday. A tall hook-nosed wizard was leaning against a carved chair, his black eyes looking at the proceedings with complete impassiveness. Harry met his gaze. Snape stared back at him, his mouth thinning.

"Ah, my...betrothed," he said in silky tones.

Molly Weasley glared at him over her shoulder.

"Albus is waiting for you in the parlour," she said shortly, planting a kiss on Harry's cheek. Harry hugged her back tightly. Severus whisked away with a sneer. Harry noticed that everyone was looking at him with sympathy. Dumbledore had let the cat out of the bag, then. Well, actually he had let one hell of a dragon out of the bag, Harry mused.

"Don't worry, Harry, we can give you stuff to spice up things," George whispered to Harry.

"Yeah, I'm sure Snape's the way he is because he is sexually frustrated," Fred added.

"Maybe he suffers from erectile dysfunction. It is said to be very damaging to the virile ego," George continued.

"I heard that! Out, both of you!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed, manoeuvring the cake onto the dining table with a flick of her wand.

Dinner consisted of a four-course repast to celebrate Harry's coming of age. Severus, Albus and the group which had fetched Harry from the Dursleys did not join the meal or the gift-unwrapping which followed after dessert. Harry noticed that people took care to ask him questions which he could answer by means of using body language, such as yes and no questions to which he could reply by simply nodding or shaking his head. He headed for the room he shared with Ron with a sense of inadequacy after dinner. He tried to feel happy and grateful, but he was finding it increasingly hard to meet the obstacles life was liberally flinging at him with resistance and optimism. His thoughts returned to his impending marriage to Snape. What if Snape turned out to be an abusive husband, and Dumbledore turned a blind eye and deaf ear to abuse, simply saying that he trusted Severus and that it was all for Harry's own good? After all, Dumbledore had sent Harry to live with the Dursleys. Now he was sending him to live with Severus. Harry thought of how he had smashed up Dumbledore's office. He thwacked his pillow with an angry fist and slouched down in bed, listening to Ron beginning to snore.

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