A/N: Thanks to everyone who keeps adding me to their favorites and/or alerts and/or reviews my story even though I haven't updated in like, six months. I promise I WILL eventually finish this story, and though I can't guarentee quick updates, I always will at some point update. Anyway it really was all the story adds and the random reviews that finally got me to finish this chapter, so I hope you like it, and please keep reviewing!

It was well past midnight before Harry put his quill down and rubbed his eyes. The fire in the Gryffindor common room was dying out, and most of the students had already gone up to their dormitories. Only Ron and Hermione remained with Harry, who had wanted to post-pone the time he had to go down to the Dungeons for as long as possible. He didn't understand why he couldn't just stay in his dorm with the other seventh year Gryffindor boys like he was supposed to before the stupid law was passed.

Harry had spent the past few hours doing the one thing he knew could make time slow down- his History of Magic homework. While he and Ron stumbled through an essay about the Witches Rebellion for Equal Rights of 1872, Hermione drafted a petition to send to the ministry about the injustice of the Marriage Law.

Boring as his History of Magic essay was, time still passed and unfortunately the time came when Harry had to go back down to the dungeons. Harry rolled up his essay and packed it in his bag with his quill. He rummaged around quickly through his bag and then swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked as she closed the lid on her ink bottle and slid it into her bag.

"I forgot the Marauders Map. It's in my trunk with the cloak, in the dungeons." Harry answered her.

"Oh. Well I guess you'll just have to look out for Filch, and hope you don't get caught." Hermione said.

"Yeah, I guess." Harry shrugged. "Besides, what detention could they give me that's worse than living with Snape anyways?"

Hermione gave Harry a reluctant smile and poked at the sleeping Ron. Ron grumbled and snorted in his sleep. Hermione sighed at Ron, then leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. His eyes opened and they smiled at each other.

"I knew that would work." She smiled; then pushed at him to get him to sit up. Ron looked around at Harry and Hermione and scowled.

"Why'd you wake me?" He grumbled.

"Its past curfew- Harry has to go." Hermione answered.

"Bollocks. Well mate, keep your door locked and your pants belted then, and I guess we'll be seeing you at breakfast!" Ron said. Hermione punched him on the shoulder.

"Be sympathetic!"

"What!" Ron rubbed the sore spot on his arm.

"Ugh can you guys not fight for five minutes? I'm leaving. I'll see you both at breakfast." Harry said as he swung his bag over his shoulder and stood to leave. He almost fell as Hermione suddenly leaped up to hug him.

"Oh, Harry everything will be okay, I promise. Don't worry so much, I'm sure it'll all work out in the end."

"Yeah, sure. And one day Snape will ask me if we can have babies. Seriously Hermione." Harry said sarcastically as he shook her off and walked out the portrait hole.

Walking back down to the Dungeons Harry thought about what Dumbledore had said earlier about taking Occlumency lessons again. At least it won't be with Snape he thought. And what was with him cutting me off mid sentence when I asked about the Horcruxes? It was obvious even to Harry that Dumbledore hadn't wanted to discuss the Horcruxes in front of Snape. But why? Wouldn't Snape be the person to trust with such a secret? And if he couldn't trust Snape to know about the Horcruxes, how come he would trust him to marry off to Harry?

Harry tried to shake off the feeling of foreboding that was washing over him and rubbed his arms to rid himself of goosebumps. It was entirely too chilly in the castle to be living in the dungeons. Harry turned down a corridor and faced the portrait into his new quarters. It had not taken enough time to get down here, but it was late enough that Harry could hope that Snape was asleep or at least hiding somewhere so that he didn't have to face him.

Harry was greeted with a loud snore from the couch when he walked into the living space. He was immediately relieved to not have to deal with Snape tonight until he picked up a whiff of alcohol and saw an empty bottle of scotch on the floor beside Snape. Most people spend their wedding night in some ritzy hotel making love and getting ready for some tropical honeymoon. Harry thought. I get to come home to a man who had to drink himself half to death just to deal with the idea of living with me. How bloody romantic.

Harry contemplated leaving Snape there in his drunken stupor but it didn't seem right. The room was freezing and even if the alcohol kept Snape from feeling cold he would certainly feel it in the morning. However the consequences for moving Snape could be – no, would be- dire. And the man did try to choke him half to death earlier that day. Maybe he would just add a log to the fire.

As Harry bent over the dying fireplace to build the fire up again he heard a snort and some movement from the couch. Turning around quickly Harry looked over but Snape had just turned over to his side and into the fetal position. His mouth was open and his face was smashed into the one pillow in the room. Harry put his hands to his mouth as he stifled a laugh. Imagine what Ron would say to see Snape like this? He looked, if not innocent, than certainly less menacing in such a ridiculous position. Harry wondered exactly how stupid it would be to take a picture of him like this and save it for blackmail later, but he resisted.

Once the fire was back to a bright warm roar Harry stood up and walked around the room. He was a bit nervous to be hanging around in the room with Snape in such a state but hopefully he would stay asleep so that Harry could get a good look around. There were books everywhere on the bookshelves lining the walls. Harry looked over the titles and found that most of them had to do with potions and were sorted by subject (types of potions, techniques, tools, ingredients, etc.) Harry was surprised to see how many of them were concerned with hair care and cosmetics. There was also a line of books devoted solely to the Dark Arts. The various books were separated by jars of what looked like dried herbs, insect legs, and bright liquids that Harry could only hope were being saved to be used in a potion at some point.

As Harry made his way around the room he thought about how depressing and cold Snape's life must be. There wasn't one picture of family or friends, no art or tapestries or rugs to bring warmth into the space. Harry picked up the empty scotch bottle that was lying on the floor at the corner of the couch and put it on the coffee table. There was an encyclopedia lying open on an article discussing how stirring a potion containing palm fronds counter-clockwise could have detrimental effects when applied as a bleaching agent. It couldn't be that no one had ever shown Snape kindness, the man just repelled it from him. Harry thought. How could anyone ever like a man who refused to be likable?

Harry yawned and looked at a clock on the wall (the closest thing to a decoration.) It was half past midnight. He should probably get to bed soon. Harry took out his wand and dimmed the lights and conjured a blanket to cover Snape with. If they were ever going to survive living together, they would have to at least try to be amicable.

---

Harry woke up late the next morning. With no windows in his room to let in light and an unusually eerie silence from the lack of roommates getting up and ready for the day Harry had no idea what time it was. He looked at his watch; it read 9:41 am. Not too late, Harry decided. But he would have to start setting an alarm with no sunshine or friends to let him know it was time to get up.

Harry got dressed quickly deciding to hold off on having to shower in the dungeons for as long as possible. He would shower tonight in the lockers after Quidditch practice. It wasn't like he was creeped out or thought the shower might be dirty; it was just uncomfortable thinking about showering in Snape's quarters. It was awkward enough sleeping there.

Harry left his room as quietly as possible and was relieved to see that Snape was still passed out in his drunken stupor on the couch. The snoring confirmed to Harry that Snape was both alive and that he would be able to leave without having to speak to him. Harry exited the dungeons quickly and walked up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry found Ron and Hermione sitting with Ginny at the end of the Gryffindor table waiting for him. They looked up when he walked in; it looked as though they'd been doing that every time someone walked through. Ron moved over to give him room on the bench and patted Harry on the back as he sat down to eat.

"How was it mate?" Ron asked while Hermione and Ginny looked at him expectantly. Harry shrugged.

"Alright I guess. He was asleep when I got there, so I didn't really have to talk to him or anything, just went to my room and went to sleep."

"It's so creepy, you having to live with him and everything. What's it look like down there? Are there bats?" Ginny asked.

"Of course there aren't bats, honestly." Hermione answered. "But I always did wonder what sort of living arrangements to castle provided teachers…"

"Its alright, there's two bedrooms, a bath, a kitchen area and a living space." Harry replied as he reached for a slice of toast and jam.

"Yeah but what's it look like?" Ron asked through a mouthful of eggs.

"You know, I don't really feel like discussing this now. Can we talk about something else?" Harry said irritated.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Hermione exclaimed as she reached into her bag to bring forth an envelope. "The mail already came, you missed it. A barn owl came by and dropped a letter for you, I don't know who it's from but it must be someone who knew we'd give it to you, because the owl didn't really seem to mind you weren't here."

Hermione handed Harry the letter. His name was on it in the long feminine script that could only belong to Dumbledore. Harry sighed, and wondered what that man wanted now. He slid his finger under the seal and opened the envelope to produce a letter. It read:

Harry. Forgive the change in scheduling, but I feel it is imperative that you come to my office at precisely noon for a chat. I will provide sandwiches.

-Albus Dumbledore.

P.S. Congratulations on your recent marriage.

Harry handed the letter back to Hermione to read. She scanned it quickly then gave it back to him.

"It's a bit odd, isn't it?" She said looking at Harry for an explanation. Ron grabbed the letter and read it over.

"D'ya think it's about, you know, you-know-what?" He asked.

"I dunno, I suppose. I asked him about that yesterday but he didn't say he'd heard anything, or nothing new at least. And what's this ridiculousness congratulating me on a marriage he arranged?" Harry replied.

"I don't know, but maybe last night something changed."

"Well done, Hermione. You're a right Sherlock, you know that?"

"You don't have to be such an arse, Ron. I was just saying,"

"Oy- when you're all done being vague and all that, I think I'll go have a chat with Luna." Ginny interrupted, hushing the group quickly by reminding them that she was still there. "At least she doesn't forget I'm there when she gets spacey."

"Speaking of…" Hermione said under her breath as Luna walked up to their table.

"Hello," Luna said, her voice having the same familiar dreamy tone they were all used to. She patted Harry on the head as she walked around the end of the table to sit next to Ginny. "How was your wedding night then, Harry?"

Ron snorted and chuckled over the remains of his breakfast. Harry elbowed him in the ribs and told her that it was alright.

"Did you get into a fight with Snape again? He looks quite miserable, and he keeps looking at you from over at the Head Table." Luna said as she looked across the hall.

"No…" Harry turned to look up at the Head Table. He hadn't even noticed Snape arrive; he imagined the man must have a hell of a hangover. As soon as he found Snape their eyes locked and he felt a strange sensation, as though there was a tug, or pull on his mind. Was Snape using legilemency on him? None of the usual images came to mind that he associated with his occlumency lessons from when Snape used to use legilemency on him though… just a weird sensation of heightened emotions: confusion, resistance, frustration, anger, anger at a situation, anger at a person, anger at the self, humiliation, and, oddly, yearning for a warmth unknown. And then he blinked and it went away. He looked at his friends to see if they'd felt it too.

"You okay mate?" Ron asked worriedly. Harry nodded. Clearly this was one of Snape's tricks that he was forced to be privy to. Bullocks, but he'd put on a face for his friends; no reason to alarm them that Snape was trying to invade his emotions now too.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"Lots of Ulma-Ooma's in the air this time of year." Luna informed them. "You might want to be careful Harry; they can often cause confusion and disorientation if you accidentally inhale the fumes left behind during their mating season. You do seem to be more susceptible to their affects, I've noticed. "

Everyone but Ginny (who smiled and rolled her eyes) snorted.

"Okay, thanks Luna." Harry looked back up at Snape who was still looking at him, his face showing a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, and something else Harry couldn't quite place.

---

Snape's first conscious thought upon waking up was to register the amount of pain he was in. His head felt as though it was splitting open and the light from the fireplace that was mysteriously still going was not helping. At least he was warm, but when in the hell last night had he wrapped a blanket around himself? Where had the blanket even come from? It's not like he kept one draped across the back of the couch.

Snape sat up and looked around him. Nothing seemed quite right: the fire was going strong but the torches along the wall had been dimmed, his scotch bottle, empty, was standing upright on the coffee table rather than smashed against a wall or dropped next to the couch, and again, there was a blanket on him. On closer inspection Snape realized that the blanket was a standard house blanket, black, with a lion and the Gryffindor house name in gold and red (respectively.) Snape scowled.

Potter had tampered with his things. Harry Potter had tampered with his things, had been in his rooms, seen him in his drunken stupor. Had he been conscious for any of it? Snape couldn't remember far past cleaning up the remains of his sandwich, stumbling back to the couch, and taking a swig from his then-half full bottle of scotch. What time had that been again?

Fuck. And now it was nearly ten and the house-elves would stop serving breakfast. No classes to deal with today- thank god for that- but, as Dumbledore constantly liked to point out to Snape, attendance for meals were mandatory unless illness or the headmaster said so. Snape ran his fingers through his knotty greasy hair and changed his clothes quickly- a shower would have to wait- then walked up to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Snape saw Harry Potter sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table when he walked in but luckily none of his little friends seemed to take notice to him. They seemed engrossed in some conversation- Potter was probably telling them all how much of a pathetic drunk Snape was and how he had to drink himself under the table last night to deal with this ridiculous set-up. Predictable, loathsome Potter. Snape wanted to vomit.

He took his seat at the end of the Head Table and looked over the various dishes set in front of him. Porridge was a good start to any hangover cure. Porridge and a hot cup of English Breakfast Tea. Classic. Snape looked over at Potter again. He and his friends were reading a piece of paper. He wondered what it said. Why the fuck did Potter put a blanket on him? Did he stoke the fire too? Potter couldn't have been trying to be nice; Snape had after all choked him to the point where he lost consciousness just earlier that day after all. Fucking idiot Potter.

The Lovegood girl was over there now. What were they talking about? Potter and his friends turned and looked at him. Suddenly everything he'd been feeling became stronger, more intense. He was angry, so very angry. Angry at the Ministry, the Dark Lord, at Dumbledore, himself, and to a slightly lesser extent his father and some people he'd never met before, though he hadn't been thinking anything of the sort. His humiliation at being found drunk last night was pulled forth, confusion about something Dumbledore wanted, a resistance to the marriage and frustration at the tidy way it was put in place to tie him in. He also felt a deep yearning for the warmth of a family and of a love he never knew.

Potter was the first to blink and look away. Snape put his hand over his eyes and rubbed his temples. It felt nothing like legilemency but Snape could tell he'd been communicating with Potter in some way. This had to be from the bond, but it was a bit early for the effect to be so strong, even if it was unclear. Usually the people involved had to consciously make an effort to utilize the bonds magic, and usually it took practice and training. He and Potter had barely glanced at each other and every emotion either of them had been remotely feeling had been shared. With such lack of training in legilemency and a barely working knowledge of occlumency Snape wondered if Potter had felt it as clearly as he had.

God damn his life. It was bad enough when he had to see random memories of Potters' life during occlumency lessons two years ago. Now he was going to have to share emotions with him? He was never going to be able to look Potter in the eye again.