CHAPTER 9

When you apologised to me, I was quite sure that Professor Dumbledore had given you too many lemon drops. Drugged lemon drops.

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Harry was sitting dully in his room, brooding over particularly unpleasant ideas. Severus had saved his life on several occasions. Harry owed him a huge wizard's debt. Maybe that was why Dumbledore had shoved them into this marriage. Severus had saved his life; why should he not possess it and do with it what he liked? Who knew what kind of twisted logic Dumbledore followed? Most probably this whole travesty of a marriage was an unspoken quid-pro-quo arrangement between Severus and Dumbledore. Harry kicked the leg of his desk. He was being trained like a good little soldier to defeat Voldemort. And afterwards? He would probably be dropped like a hot potato. People wanted him to save their skins, not his own; and for now, he had to pay off his wizard's debt to Severus – if such a thing was possible. Harry didn't think it was. He shook his head, telling himself that his reasoning was immature, even petulant; another voice said that it was perfectly realistic, matter-of-fact thinking. He missed Hermione and Ron. A knock on his door made him look up. He actually opened his mouth to say, "Come in," then closed it. He was still in the middle of getting used to not being able to talk, although he didn't think that such a process actually had a middle section in the first place. He got up and opened the door. Severus was standing on the threshold, looking tense.

Harry stepped back, and Severus walked stiffly into his room.

"May I?" he asked with forced politeness, gesturing at an empty chair. Harry nodded and sat down himself. Severus flexed his long tapering fingers, fixating Harry with what Hermione liked to describe as an eldritch stare.

"Harry," he said finally. The youth blinked at Severus's use of his first name. Severus ignored Harry's reaction and continued resolutely.

"I...apologise," he said stiffly, "I have..." He paused, angry at himself for talking so hesitantly and insecurely – he, who was feared for his the flow of sarcastic words which escaped his unmerciful lips. Harry was looking at him, his face impassive.

"I admit that I have...misjudged you."

A small frown appeared between Harry's eyebrows. Severus could see that the youth did not believe one word of his apology.

"I also admit that my conduct towards you has been...inauspicious."

There was another pause, during which Harry continued looking at him fixedly, as if trying to interpret his facial expressions more than his words. A strand of jetty hair slipped forward and fell into his right eye. He stroked it back.

"I am sincere, Po-Harry," Severus added. "I..." He decided to drop his formal tone. Harry was his husband, after all.

"My behaviour was shabby."

Harry's expression was difficult to interpret: it combined surprise and caution, suspicion and hope; and Severus could not help thinking, much to his horror, that Harry looked rather charming that way. He was already regretting his apology when Harry reached for his parchment and quill and scribbled. He handed the note to Severus.

I apologise about the Pensieve.

Severus put down the note. Harry observed that he did not destroy it. Severus acknowledged Harry's apology with a stiff nod. There was another pause; then Harry stretched out his hand. Severus took it. Harry's fingers were warm and firm against his, like on their wedding day.

Severus released Harry's hand and reached into his pocket.

"Your ring," he said, handing the white-gold band with its green pearl to Harry. Harry took it and slid it over his left ring finger. They looked at each other cautiously. The atmosphere in the room was absurdly awkward.

"So," Severus said, obviously relieved that the unpleasant business of apologising had been done with, "you need to learn Telepathy before we both drown in a flood of your handwritten notes. You require Occlumentic and Legilimentic abilities – yes, Potter, Occlumency is of vital importance."

Harry was frowning at him, and Severus was strongly tempted to inform Harry that Telepathy was a rather complex branch of mental magic, especially for learners entering adulthood.

"I suggest, Potter-" Severus broke off and waited impatiently while Harry wrote down something on his parchment. He read it and answered loftily:

"Well, seeing that we are married and are due to exchange certain bodily fluids in less than three months, I suppose a first-name basis will have to do."

Harry gave him a terse nod.

"Telepathy lessons every second day, eight o'clock in the evening. This concerns your future; the curse is more than likely to be permanent, as you know."

Harry nodded again.

"Good. I want you to make an effort. A big effort," Severus said.

If you make one, too, Harry scribbled.

Severus sniffed haughtily.

"I just made one," he pointed out.

So did I. I'm sure we can both make another one.

"I see no other solution," Severus said sourly. "I think that we can consider our current arrangements satisfactory."

Harry nodded and wrote another note, informing Severus that he was going to fly a few rounds around the Quidditch pitch. Severus read it and snorted.

"Can't do without swooping about on a broomstick like a demented swallow, can you?"

Just because you don't appreciate the joys of flying on a broomstick...

Severus scrunched up the parchment in his hand.

"Broomsticks are all you featherheaded adolescents think of."

Harry recalled rather glumly that broomsticks, figuratively speaking, would certainly be involved in less than three months. He shifted his feet uncomfortably and scratched his neck.

Severus drew himself up, glaring at his young husband.

"Mr Potter, you have a filthy mind!"

So did you when you decided to take your...broomstick...elsewhere on our wedding day.

Severus went an unpleasant purplish colour.

"I apologised for this misstep," he hissed, "and I refuse to discuss this matter any further! It has been resolved."

Harry, tired of always arguing with Severus, shrugged. Severus rose abruptly.

"Telepathy lesson tomorrow evening in my...I mean, the library," he stated and marched off. Harry glowered at his back.

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