*chapter dedicated to Andria Lynn Defranc Potter-Snape*
All Harry could do was stare at her, gaping in disbelief at her words. Spanish may not have been his first language, but after living with her as long as he had he was able to pick out a few choice words. "Hombre egoísto" were two of them. He watched the bitterly angry tears trickle down her cheeks in silence. Anger rushed into his heart. He could've very easily started yelling back at her, but he wondered if that was really the smartest thing to do. After all, she was clearly exhausted. She probably didn't mean half the things she was saying.
"November, I thought you said you wanted a Secret-Keeper," he said as calmly as he could. His voice was still laced with offense. He was trying to end the argument, but apparently she was nowhere near finished. In fact, the statement only served to upset her more.
"Oh, so now you decide to reach out for help. Now, when you realize that you can't be perfect. You can't be God. You know what your problem is, Harry? Orgullo. Stupid, stubborn, selfish pride. I've always hated that about you. Even back in school you had too much pride. I've tried to look past it. I've tried to think, well, he does good things and ought to be proud. But this has gone entirely too far. The whole world thinks you're the greatest wizard to ever set foot on this earth, and I think you've let it go to your head."
Now it was Harry's turn to be angry. He was trying to apologize, but she wasn't listening. She was too busy complaining about her own problems to listen to one word he had to say. He narrowed his eyes and stepped up to her. Frustration coursed through his veins down to his hand, where he clutched a tight fist. What little fingernails he had were digging sharply into his hand. His fist was even beginning to tremble slightly.
"You're not listening to me," he said slowly as if he were on the brink of breaking down. "If anyone's being stubborn and proud it's you. I'm trying, November, I really am! For 12 goddamn years I've been trying to please you. You wanted to get married – I proposed. You wanted to have children – I went along with it. You wanted to send Abby to Hogwarts despite all the pressure she would no doubt experience, and God help me I said yes! I sacrificed everything in the world to make you happy, and that's not enough for you, is it? You expected me to be perfect, and damn it Em I've tried. But the minute I lose my footing and start slipping you pounce on me! In spite of everything, all of this, I'm still trying to sacrifice my better judgment to give you what you want – and now you don't want it anymore? For the past two months I've been trying not to upset you because of the baby. I know you've been extra sensitive because of that. But this has really gone too far."
November couldn't believe what she was hearing. Never, in all their years of marriage, had they ever fought like this. His words stung more than she had expected them to. "You bloody bastard," she said, surprising even herself. "You don't want to take the fault so you blame it all on my being pregnant. I don't believe you. You've sacrificed for this marriage?! I just got through telling you how fed-up I was with your ego, and you have the audacity to use that as your defense?!"
"Wait a moment – what did you just call me?" They were now mere inches away from each other. She could see the red-hot coals burning in his eyes, but she couldn't have cared less.
"You heard me. I called you a goddamn selfish bastard, because that's what you've made yourself out to be."
"Don't you ever call me that again!" Harry roared, breaking his fist and holding up his hand as if to hit her. "I swear to God, if you ever even think of insulting me like that again, I'll – "
"What? Hit me?" asked November mockingly. She narrowed her eyes as though daring him to do so. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me," Harry seethed. The intensity of his anger was overwhelming, and before he knew what he was doing his hand hit her cheek with smart smack. Then came the anticlimax. Silently he watched her as she held her hand to the spot where he'd slapped her. His breathing continued to come heavily, like he'd been holding since the fight began. She was too startled to say anything at all. For a moment her only means of expression were the tears that sprang to her eyes. Harry regretted the gesture the instant her eyes finally met his. They reflected fear. Pure, cold fear. That was new. She'd never been afraid of him before. Afraid, yes, but never of him.
"You – you hit me," she said quietly, struggling with the words. "I can't believe you actually…hit me. What's happened to you, Harry? You're not the man I married." With that she covered her face with the back of her hand and raced crying out the door. Harry couldn't believe himself. He stared loathingly at his own hand. What has gotten into you? he questioned himself. Never, in all his 34 years, had he ever struck a woman – especially not his own wife. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. This marriage was going to take much more than he thought it would.
~*~
Harry ended the meeting of the Order abruptly, urging that they meet elsewhere for the moment and insisting that he'd be in touch. Once they had all left, he set off to find November. Knowing her as he did, she probably hadn't gone too far. Sure enough, he stepped outside ad there she was, in their own backyard. She was perched on one of the swings of the swing set he'd built for Abby years back. She wasn't crying anymore. Instead, she was staring listlessly down at the ground as her toes pushed her absently back and forth a few inches. He drew in a deep breath and approached her. Without waiting for an invitation or even an "okay", he sat on the swing beside her.
"Thank you," he said to break the silence. This brought about the exact reaction he'd intended: puzzled, she forced her eyes away from the ground and looked at him instead.
"What for?
"For standing up to me," he explained. He knew he had to choose his words carefully, and spoke as slowly as he could without sounding mentally disturbed. "No, really. I was thinking about what you said. You're right – I have been playing the role of hero a lot lately. Not just to you, but to the Order, and to my daughter and my friends. But they've all let me get away with it. Actually, they sort of encourage it. And I can't say I haven't enjoyed it…well, for the most part anyway. You know, it's not easy being everyone's 'hero' all the time. I just always thought that's what was expected of me and that's what I had to be. Really, though, I've wanted to fall all along. You gave me the chance to, and you were even willing to catch me, but I was too blind to see it. Well, I'm falling now. I can't do this anymore. I just can't. Everyone has their breaking point, November, and mine came when I hit you. I know it doesn't make it right, but I guess what I'm trying to say is…I'm sorry."
November continued to stare blankly at him for a second or two, absorbing his words. Her face remained expressionless. "I forgive you, but…I stand by what I said before. You're not the man I married." He grinned in a wild attempt to take the situation light-heartedly.
"No, I'm really Severus Snape hidden by the disguise of Polyjuice Potion," he joked. She was quiet, empty of even a hint of a smile. He sighed for what felt like the thousandth time. "Oh Em, you're not the woman I married, either. People change, sweetheart, whether for the best or the worst. There's nothing you can do to change that. I would think the best thing to do is try to adapt to that. I love you, and I'm willing to make this work if you are." *Damn imaginary characters and their quick-solve arguments…* Finally he was able to get a reaction. A dim smile crossed her face, causing him to smile in return. She placed her hand gently on his.
"I love you too. Just…don't turn into someone you're not because the whole world wants you to. I didn't marry Harry Potter. Just Harry. And…yes, yes I'm willing to make this work. Of course I am. I think – I know – Abby's life is far more important than our little squabbles. And…I really want a Secret-Keeper. Those notes positively terrified me. Even if it is just a random wizard – well, you saw those notes. This is dark magic here, and I just don't feel safe."
Harry closed his fingers around her hand. "I understand. And I'm going to swallow my pride and agree. If this means that much to you, then…we'll get a Secret-Keeper. But who? It's got to be someone we really trust, without a doubt. But they've got to be strong, too. It's very likely Voldemort will do anything to find out who it is and get it out of them – even it means death. Oh November, I hate to send out one of our very best friends on a suicide mission…" he trailed off.
"Maybe we don't have to," said November thoughtfully. "Come to think of it, maybe we shouldn't. Harry, you said You-Know-Who – "
"Say 'Voldemort', will you? A name isn't going to hurt you."
" – he'll be after our Secret-Keeper," she went on with complete disregard of the interruption. "Well, so who do you think he'll go after? The Weasleys and the Finnigans…probably Dumbledore if he has the nerve; he knows we're close to him…maybe the Thomases…certainly the Longbottoms, they've become terribly powerful…and of course everyone else in the Order. Point is, he'll go after our allies. Or at least, those he thinks are our allies. No, we've got to use one of our enemies. He'd never think to chase them."
Harry's jaw dropped. He could scarcely believe what she was asking him to do. He could only think of one real enemy he had, and there was no chance he was asking him to keep the secret. "Malfoy?" he exclaimed incredulously. "You're joking! We can't trust him! He'd give us in to Voldemort on a silver platter!"
"No, no, not Draco Malfoy. He's a Death Eater; that's crazy. No, I'm talking about someone who's loathed you for ages, but saved your life in your first year at Hogwarts. Do you know why he did that? Because he was obliged to, because of his past. Now he spits on your name and the whole world knows it, but he works beside you because it's an obligation. Not because of his past; because of Dumbledore. He wouldn't dare give us away – Dumbledore wouldn't let him. Think of it – it's perfect."
Harry nearly fell off the swing. "You don't mean…" November nodded solemnly.
"I most certainly do – Severus."