Author's Note:

I don't have all the answers.  I don't know Rowling, or her husband, or her children, or even her dog.  (Does she even have a dog?)  This story is completely and utterly fictional, and I am making no money off of it. 

My philosophy towards fanfiction: Don't ask, don't tell, don't believe, don't sell.

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England

by Galae

The next weekend, they went to Devonshire to invite Sirius and Remus to the wedding.

            As expected, Sirius lunged for Severus's throat, and Remus contained him.  After four hours, Sirius was mollified. 

            It wasn't the relationship, of course.  Everybody knew about it by now.  It was just the fact that somewhere along the way, the news of the engagement had not filtered into their house.  Sirius was flabbergasted, to say the least, of why the hell Harry wanted anything to do with Severus Snape.

That night, while Severus and Remus went to town to buy some groceries (an apt excuse to leave Harry and Sirius alone), Sirius sat by the fireplace pouring himself a drink. 

"I don't know why you're marrying him," he said, slowly.  "Are you just doing this to exasperate us?"

"No!" Harry cried, aghast.  "Is that what you think it is?  A teenaged rebellion?"

"I don't know what to think.  It is the most natural conclusion I could think of."  Sirius turned his head away.

"How about the fact that I love him?  I do, Sirius, the way that you love Remus.  Why can't you see that?"

"I see it, alright."  Sirius sounded very tired.  "I just can't imagine—out of all the people who are willing to love you—why you picked him—"

"I love him," Harry said, "because he is the only person who sees me not as a name.  Severus loves me as me, whether I am Jim Brown or Harry Potter.  And he . . . understands."

"I think I failed you somehow."

Oh.  So that was what it was.  "Do you think you owed something to my father?" Harry asked, carefully.

"Dammit, of course I owed something to your father!" Sirius cried.  "I owed everything to your father.  And he asked one thing of me, just one thing, and that is to see that you're happy and taken care of."

"And you think you're failing of that?" Harry asked, incredulous.  "How could you say that?  Look at me, Sirius—I am happy.  I didn't go to Severus because I need somebody to take care of me, I could do that myself.  I went to Severus because he made me happy."

Sirius said nothing.  And then he said, "You must try to look at it from my point of view, Harry.  Hermione is expecting, isn't she?  What if she chose you as her child's godfather, and then both she and Ron died, and within eighteen years their child is sleeping with Draco Malfoy?"

Harry opened his mouth to say that he and Severus were not sleeping together, but closed it.  Just the image was too much to bear.  He understood.

"I understand," he said aloud.  "But you must see it from my way, too, Sirius.  What if I told you that I hated Remus, and that I wished he was dead?"

Sirius swallowed.  "I suppose we've reached an agreement, haven't we?"

~*~*~

However sure he sounded to Sirius, Harry was actually masking bewilderment.  In the next few days, that confusion turned into doubt.  Severus was becoming quieter than usual, didn't snap out half as often.  When he did talk, his voice was soft.  Placid, almost.  More than once Harry would be speaking, but Severus wouldn't be paying any attention.  He seemed distracted, almost.  Also, many times Severus would ask him for the date, three or four times in an hour.  It was like he had an appointment that he dreaded, but couldn't miss all the same.  Somewhere, Harry felt like there's something wrong.

"Severus, what's wrong?" he finally asked one day at the dinner table.

"What?" Severus asked, confused.  "There's nothing wrong."

"Then why have you . . . changed?"

"Of course I've changed.  I'm a man making a big step in his life, Harry.  Surely you don't expect me to remain the same always," Severus said, his voice exasperated.

"I know that."  Something boiled up inside Harry.  "You don't have to talk to me like I'm a little kid.  I'm just concerned.  And I have all the right to be, you know.  After all, you are going to be my . . . husband soon."

"Yes."  Again, that distant look in his eyes.

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"You're looking at me, but not at me."

"I'm sorry, Harry.  I'm tired."

"Then you've been tired a lot lately.  Are you sure you're getting enough sleep?" Harry said sarcastically.

"Please, Harry.  I've had a long day.  Can we not argue about this?" Severus demanded.

Harry backed off immediately.  His own frustration was mounting rapidly, but still.  He could see Severus's patience wearing thin. 

With great effort, Harry turned back to his food.  What's wrong?  And just when all the students were beginning to accept them too.  Why must this happen, at this time?  Why isn't Severus speaking to him like he should?  Why hadn't he come to visit him lately?  Now that Harry thought about it, he hadn't seen Severus much these couple of days, except at mealtimes.  Severus had said last night that he had a headache and wanted to go to bed early. 

So maybe he was tired.

Or maybe . . .

Harry sighed sharply. 

~*~*~

That night, Harry lay in bed, going over the dinner conversation with a fine-toothed comb.  He concluded that there was indeed something wrong.

But he dismissed the feeling almost immediately.  Why should he be worried right now?  Severus did agree, didn't he?  Then . . .

Harry should be the happiest person on the planet right now.

Then why did he feel so confused?

~*~*~

"Severus?" Harry murmured into the office.  It was empty.  Harry sighed and walked to his fiancé's private office.

It, too, was empty, which meant that Severus either pulled another disappearing act or he was in another secret supply closet.  Harry looked around the office, and sure enough, there was a little, nondescript door.  All the times that he had been in that room, Harry had never noticed it.  It blended into the woodwork.

He muttered a spell and the door swung open.  That was when Harry gasped.

Instead of a dark, dusty cupboard full of unknown bottles and jars, Harry was staring at a large bedchamber, complete with a glowing fireplace to one side.  But what made Harry gasp was the sight of Severus sitting upon his bed, dark forest-green sheets pooling around his naked waist.

He realized, later, that the look on Severus's face must have mirrored his own.  But Severus, from years of experience, reacted faster.  Within seconds he was snatching up his shirt from the sturdy chair next to his bed.

"Old habits die hard, hmm?" Severus said with a slow smile.

"You weren't at dinner," spoke Harry, voice almost at a whisper.  He was trying very, very hard to tear his eyes from Severus's bare torso.  Many a fevered night had been spent picturing his fiancé's body, and now that his eyes perceived it as reality, Harry couldn't help but give a few admiring glances.  He had never thought . . .

"I was feeling a bit tired," Severus explained.  "I had spent all yesterday night brewing potions for Minerva.  So . . . yes.  I was tired."

"Oh."  Inside his mind, he screamed, Again?

Severus was buttoning up his shirt, but he wasn't moving from his bed.  Harry gulped when he realized what that meant. 

"Harry?  Did you need something?"

"A big bad camera," Harry murmured lasciviously. 

"Oh, for God's . . . I'm tired today, Harry.  Just tell me what you needed."

Harry paused.  He realized that he was standing in a doorway, having a conversation with Severus from across the room.  But he didn't dare to go any closer.  "Nothing, really," said Harry, slowly.  "I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"I wasn't snatched up by insane ex-Death Eaters, thank you very much," Severus said sardonically.  "But I appreciate your concern."

"Then I'll just go now."

"Wait.  Harry."

Harry retreated.  "Yeah?"

"Um."  For once Severus looked like he had no words in mind.  "I want to talk to you."

"Yes?"  Harry walked back towards Severus.  "Is it bad?"

"I'm afraid so.  Harry, I don't think . . . I don't think I can do it."

Harry's heart stopped.

"What?  What in the bloody hell do you mean, you can't do it?"

"The wedding," Severus said simply.

"I—I—you!"

For a while they simply stared at one another.  Finally Severus found his tongue.  "I'm so sorry."  His voice cracked a little.

"But why?" Harry asked softly.

"I don't feel it's right," Severus said.  "Something's out of place.  I feel it.  I tried so hard, I really did.  But the whole thing—announcing it to the school, Mrs. Weasley and her damned plum tarts, you meeting my mother, picking out the house, you explaining it all to Black.  You know that I always had to be the one in control of myself.  My father tried to take that away from me and I left him.  Voldemort tried to take that away from me and I left him.  And this . . . I knew something wasn't right, Harry."  Then suddenly he stopped.

Slowly, Harry walked to the chair near Severus's bed and sat down.

"Everything, Harry, everything.  The whole wedding didn't make any sense to me anymore."

"What about our love?" Harry demanded.  "Does that make any sense to you?"

"Harry, please.  I'm not going to try to explain."

"Oh, no.  You're the one telling me that you're going to call off the wedding.  I'm the victim, here.  I'm the one who needs the explanation and the comforting.  I'm sick and tired of this game—What's Bothering Severus Today?  I've tried so hard to figure out this relationship, from New York to the ring.  For once you are going to help me in untangling this stupid knot that you got us in!"

At the end, his voice was ringing throughout the whole room.  Harry couldn't help it.  He was furious.  Absolutely, positively furious.

"Harry."  Severus laid a hand on the back of his.  Harry resisted the urge to wrench his hand away.  "Please.  Just give me some time."

"But how much time do you need?" Harry asked.  "You said that in New York.  I agreed.  I found the perfect time and I proposed.  You said yes.  What more do you want?  Why are you so damn unsure?  We love each other.  How could you be such a blockhead?"

"You don't know anything about me!" Severus lashed out suddenly.  "Love, Harry, does not equal happy marriages!  I've never . . . I've never even thought about married life when I said yes.  I bet you haven't either.  Have you given it a half a thought?  Marriage is not all happy domestic doings, Harry.  We can't even decorate our own house!"

"Is that your whole problem, because you can't knit a lace dolly?" Harry demanded.

"No.  It's a part of the problem.  We're rushing this, Harry.  Rushing it too quickly.  We're not even thinking about it.  And I know, for a fact, that you know it."

Harry couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Yes.  Look at me, Harry, and tell me that you don't regret a single thing that's happened.  Why did you get the ring, Harry?"

"Because I loved you!" Harry uttered potently.

"Yes, and because you felt like there was nowhere else to go but marriage.  No other route.  It was the logical next thing to do.  You haven't even stopped to consider anything else.  Because you're expected to get married if you're in love.  Nothing's supposed to go wrong."

Harry closed his eyes.  "I . . . I thought that that was the right thing to do."

"It was, Harry, just not for that time."  Harry opened his eyes to see that Severus's expression had turned soft.  "There's still so much that we have to know about each other."

"But I thought I knew everything about you."

"No."  It was a quick, sharp answer.

"Oh."

"And I don't know enough about you, either," Severus said.

"No."

"But it was just . . . I don't know.  Everything was so perfect.  Everything was sailing straight ahead.  I thought . . ."  Harry sighed and leaned back into the chair.

"I understand," Severus whispered.

"Why?  How do you know what I'm going through right now?"

"Because," said Severus, "I was once there too."

~*~*~

Christmas Break came and went.  They had long told everyone that their wedding had been . . . postponed.

Not cancelled.  Postponed

Looking outside into the thick drifts of snow, Harry realized that Severus had been right.  Yet again.  He never knew of a girl named Gabrielle Fayette. 

He closed his eyes.

Severus was always right.  From the beginning, he had been right about everything.  Everything he did was perfectly planned, perfectly done. 

And that was Harry's secret—he wished that he would stumble.  Just once.  He wished that one day, Severus would be wrong about something, and that he, Harry, would be right.  Then their relationship would be complete. 

That was what Severus had been searching for—and what he still is seeking.  Only he didn't know it.  In his mind, Harry knew that Severus couldn't marry him because he still saw him as a child.  Only until Severus stumbled could Harry prove himself to be a man. 

But could Harry tell him that?  No.  Severus would have to discover it himself.

Until then . . .

They would just keep on wearing those laurel-and-thread rings.

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Was that an expected or unexpected ending?  I tried to hint at it in the last chapter, but I don't know if it worked.  I'll let you in on something: I was going to have the whole shebang—the plum tarts, the ceremony, even some of the wedding night foreplay. 

But then one of my betas said, "I don't know . . . Snape seems a little off.  I think it's going too fast."  That's when I stepped back and went, "Oh my God, you're right!"  The thing is that I was so completely caught up in how wonderfully everything was going to work out that I forgot that this is Severus getting married, not Romeo Montague.  I think this ending was more appropriate.

Agree?  Disagree?  Tell me!