Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part One : Into Every Life a Little Strain Must Fall
Chapter Six : Severus' Awful Terrible Horrible Bad Day

Monday 12 September 2003

"No, you imbecile! The milkweed goes in AFTER the bubotuber pus!" At the blank look he received from the frozen idiot, he roared, "MOVE! NOW! Get away from the cauldron!" He swooped over to the work table intent on overturning the pot, but he was too late. The offending student, instead of stepping aside, moved closer and got a face full of the pink steam suddenly shooting out of the top. The effects were immediate.

He stopped in his tracks, the sight in front of him one of the funniest he'd seen since the time Granger had grown teeth down to her chest. While she would never know it, his comment at the time, "I see no difference," had been the kindest thing he could think of with such short notice. His other thoughts would have been crueler, if more humourous. Today, however, he couldn't stop it in time and the amused snort escaping him was frightening in its intensity and its brevity as he gained control over his mirth.

Fighting further laughter, he let his blossoming irritation take over as he rounded on the hapless student responsible for this latest debacle. Furious, he blasted him. "Mr. Plens, you are quite possibly the clumsiest student I have had the misfortune of teaching since Mr. Longbottom left this esteemed establishment. What part of 'get-away' did you not understand? I believe you have obtained the singular honour of topping the list of puerile students to bollix such a simple potion with such unexpected results." He continued in his best Snape manner for several minutes enjoying the stammering replies; he suffered no fools in his class and this one should have learned it well by now.

William Plens was one of his more limited Slytherins; he and another youth shadowed Lance Veni in much the same manner as Crabbe and Goyle had followed Malfoy. The steam he'd inhaled caused him to grow ears better suited to a rampaging pachyderm, hence Snape's inner amusement; they almost looked natural on the hulking brute. The more flustered the boy got, the faster his ears had fanned until, towards the end, Snape's hair was blowing straight out, his robes billowing in the ensuing gale. He was surprised the brainless git wasn't airborne. The only good thing about the whole incident was that he was assured the idiot (who he was convinced had a hidden Longbottom lineage) had been able to hear him quite well as he removed 20 points from his own House. He could almost wish for the Dark Days when he could favour his Slytherins above all others.

He finally concluded his tirade. "While I assure you I would like nothing less than to expound further on this subject for your 'listening' enjoyment, your detention will best be served with Mr. Filch this evening as I will not be available to 'hear' your sorry excuses. In the meantime, take you and your new--appendages--up to the infirmary at once. Perhaps Madame Pomfrey has some mastodonic charms to restore you to your former bungling self."

He glared at the smirking Draco Malfoy of this generation. "Mr. Veni?" He smiled evilly inside at the startled attention he received from this young upstart. "Accompany him and ensure he gets there since he seems confused by the simplest of directions. Stay with him until he is discharged and see to it he makes it back to the Common Room afterwards." He ignored the calculating stare he received and motioned them both out the door. 'Draco may have been hell-bent for murder, but at least he had class, something this arrogant Hooray is sorely lacking.'

The remainder of the students snickered when they heard Veni tell Plens as he stumbled out of the room, "Idiot! You have to fold them to get through the door." He suppressed his own chuckle.

The rest of the class only got worse.

Severus hated Double Potions, especially with the Fourth Year Gryffindors and Slytherins; it was his last class of the day. He was convinced that the seemingly benign headmaster had a sadistic streak when it came to the class schedules, aided and abetted by his willing but revenge bent accomplice, McGonagall. No matter how many years he'd almost begged them to separate the two groups and mix them with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, he was denied and left with the two most volatile groups together. Although he did have to admit his Slytherins would probably make short work of the Hufflepuffs, he had always been keenly interested to see how the Ravenclaws would hold up. Not that he would ever find out.

And despite his best precautionary measures, he'd still had two other spectacular explosions in their class following the first accident--both by Gryffindors minding Slytherin business more than their own. After setting two more sets of detentions with Filch and skimming 30 total points from Gryffindor, he'd seen the class off with the greatest relief. 'Stupid buggers,' he thought to himself as he employed several spells to clean the mess from the last explosion. He supposed he could have made them stay to do the honours themselves, but he and Harry had an appointment with Dumbledore this evening and the thought of Filch and his mangy feline anywhere near his pristine lab sent shudders of disgust through him.

He swept back to his quarters, growling to himself about the discomforts of his wet robes (now a total loss) and the slimy glop in his hair (which had resisted the most stringent cleaning charms). It itched. He stripped down to his boxers at the door and rang for a house-elf to pick everything up for disposal as he stalked back to the bath. Even the thick steam and hot soak did nothing to improve his temper. Horatio came in as much to see him as to bask in the heat, but made a tactical retreat, hissing, when he saw the foul mood his master was in.

After getting dressed, he waited impatiently for Harry to come home so they could go to dinner together. Sitting at his desk, he'd reread the same line three times in his potions journal when a ball of feathers skidded and tumbled across his desk to lay still on the edge. The fast Courier Owl, obviously still in training judging from its inelegant landing, was from Harry. The bird righted himself and minced over to stand on the pages of his journal. Severus untied the note from the nervous owl; he unfurled the tightly wound piece of parchment and read:

Sev,
So sorry, but am detained in Surrey for a bit of bother with the officials here. I should be back before dinner is over, but just in case I'm not, don't wait for me. If I get back in time, I'll meet you in the Hall.

Hope your day was not as boring as mine... Looking forward to a spot of excitement this evening... Harry

On the reverse side, he penned a bland reply and sent the owl back. While he greatly appreciated the note (for it spared him worry over Harry's tardiness) he was still annoyed for it meant he couldn't vent his spleen before enjoying his meal. Alone, frustrated, and late, he went to his supper.

The long trip from the dungeons did nothing to help his mood, especially when Madam Pomfrey accosted him in the hallway to give him an earful about his erstwhile student, now sans his huge appendages and resting comfortably. Ears ringing, he made his unobtrusive way through the staff door and went to his accustomed place. Seating himself at the head table, the chair next to him conspicuously empty, he glared at everyone in general with the fierceness of old. The Fifth through Seventh Year students, only needing to look once, remembered 'that face' well from their first years at the school and wondered who was in for it now. The younger ones were just more terrified of him.

If possible, his face got stonier as the food was served--liver with applesauce. If there was anything Severus hated more than Double Potions or imbecilic, inattentive students, it was liver. The house-elves had strict instructions not to serve it to him on pain of serious hexing. He was about to call one of them to task for the error when he caught the amused, satisfied glance of the headmaster looking down at him from the center of the table. Dumbledore smiled sweetly, glanced with distaste at the plain steamed carrots and broccoli (sans sauce or cheese) on his plate, then looked back to Snape with a smug smile before his face settled into the seeming innocence it normally wore. A little note popped up next to his plate with the words: "You look a little anaemic, my boy. Eat up--it's good for you."

Severus seethed and counted to ten in four languages before catching Dumbledore's eyes again; mumbling a quick spell, the words--"Eat your vegetables like a good little boy"--appeared in the air in front of the old man and then disappeared. Dumbledore frowned before chuckling. Severus smirked, feeling a little calmer; he was almost amused by the heavy-handed justice of the whole exchange.

The Headmaster had just given the signal to eat when the final straw arrived. Having resigned himself to scraping the applesauce off the bloody meat, Snape watched in singular apathy as a lone Special Delivery Postal Owl winged across the crowded Dining Hall from the doors into the Great Hall, settling neatly on the Head Table in front of him. He sighed when the nervous owl dropped a red envelope right in the middle of the applesauce. Not expecting a tip for such a delivery, the owl took off in all haste and left via an opening window behind the table.

It seemed to be his night for Owls.

Almost grateful for an excuse not to smell his meal anymore, Severus calmly stood from the table, pushed his chair back with a noisy screech, and carried the offending plate, with the envelope, away from the table amid the stunned, curious eyes of the students and staff.

As he was about to go through the staff door, Dumbledore started to rise to follow him; he was stopped with a hand on his shoulder by McGonagall who told him quietly she would take care of it. She followed Snape out of the Hall while a grim Dumbledore silently simmered.

Poppy took one look at his eloquent face and sighed, wondering briefly if it had been a good idea to tell the Deputy Headmistress about his illness this morning. It had to be done, but no one had anticipated the fierce protective streak Minerva had subsequently shown towards the headmaster; in just this one day she had managed to reduce him to grinding his teeth in frustration. One could only hope Minerva's smothering behaviour would lessen with time and familiarity. If not, it would be a race to see who killed whom first.

Dumbledore's sudden low chuckle took her by surprise and she wondered what he was up to with his head subtly cocked in the direction of the staff room. There was no telling at this point, but the minute changes in his face told her he was 'listening' in and whatever it was he was hearing was both amusing and alarming. She went back to her meal, somewhat reassured and, with moderate success, concentrated on ignoring the whole situation.

Deep in the staff room, Severus had just placed the plate on a side table well past the door when McGonagall walked through. Surprised, his eyebrow raised in question, Snape was about to comment when she said, closing the door firmly behind her, "You know the policy--all Howlers sent to the staff must be witnessed by another staff member."

Given that his choices were either her or Dumbledore, he appreciated her willingness to listen to what he was sure was another sordid commentary on his lifestyle. He said as much and then finished, "What a Gryffindor thing to do." He nodded his thanks and gave her a wan smile. She smiled and waved him to get on with it.

He gingerly lifted the flap of the envelope without removing it from its bed in the applesauce. With an explosive flash, it unfolded, forming a lurid mouth sliding around on the plate as it spewed its message at an ear-splitting volume. He'd not been very wrong about the contents--vile, profane, and full of portentous threats against Harry. The only good thing about it was, when finished with its reasty message, it had incinerated the unappetising slab of liver into a small pile of ashes.

"Do you have any idea who the sender was?" McGonagall asked him, her cheeks flaming at the particularly nasty message. While she'd been present when other such missives had arrived, she'd no idea they were this insulting and carried such threats. She would rather eat nails than admit it, but her respect of the Potions master rose in the face of his calm resignation to the thing.

His mouth twisted into its normal parody of a smile. "If I knew who sent it, I'd have to kill him and then give his house ten posthumous points for an imaginative and extensive use of common and arcane profanity, not to mention another 50 points for ridding me of that odious meal."

She chuckled. "Only 50 points?," she replied, grimacing. "I would have thought that kind service should have been enough to earn the House Cup."

He sighed and continued mildly, "Perhaps. What I fail to understand is why anyone still sends them. They do not, in the least, affect our decision. One would think it not worth the bother and expense."

"What did you expect? Total acceptance?" McGonagall asked with some asperity.

"Not you, too," he groaned.

She smiled warmly, her fondness for him showing despite her severity. "Severus, I assure you--if I had those kind of objections, you would have heard them long before now with a more extensive vocabulary and much better grammar." Suddenly serious she asked, "Surely you knew there would be those who feel this way about your relationship with Harry?"

He nodded, resigned. "Of course I did. Four years ago, I knew there would be accusations of coercion, knew there would be objections to my 'defiling' The-Boy-Who-Lived; I even anticipated the occasional attempt at pressing charges against me, but this? Now? When it's fairly obvious the relationship is mutually shared? No, Minerva--we'd prepared ourselves for many things and a certain amount of 'distaste' from certain quarters, but not this long-term, continual harassment and certainly not anything against Harry." This was what disturbed him the most--the vile message in the Howler had not been directed at him. And it was not the first.

"I would say that these things take time, but there's been plenty of that, has there not? Even among some of the staff it took a while for the--aversion--to die down. Albus was quite adamant that we set a good example about the whole thing and, as you know, only one teacher found himself unable to leave it be." She remembered how Professor Iacio, the Ancient Runes teacher, had left in a cloud of dissatisfaction. "However, you do have a point. Although I can see where there might still be those who cannot accept his--orientation--and that his bloodline will die with him," she said quietly.

Severus laughed mirthlessly. "Even you know, Minerva, that our "orientation", as you so quaintly put it, does not preclude having natural children with all the potions and charms available to overcome such a small obstacle as two fathers." He snorted his jaded opinion of the courses of action open to them. "Did you know we received the official approval of our joined bloodlines from the Ministry just two days after the first Banns were posted?"

McGonagall gasped--Ministry sanctions of this nature were very rare. Then his words caught up to her; she was very confused. "Joined bloodlines? Banns? Severus, are you getting married?"

Severus grimaced ruefully. 'Now I've put my foot in it!' He nodded, saying, "Yes. Harry and I were handfasted three weeks ago. Dumbledore posted the Banns elsewhere to help us keep it private until the invitations are sent. We're having the final ceremony on the 25th of October."

"Severus! That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, giving him an unexpected hug. She peppered him with questions. "October? Why so quickly? That's only a month away. Why the secrecy?" Eyes narrowed, she finished, "Were you planning on telling anyone here?"

Severus had the grace to look away. "Actually it's almost two, months that is. It's complicated, Minerva. The date was set per the Orrery according to Albus. Remus, Moody, and Poppy know of it as they were our handfasting witnesses. We all decided it best to keep it under wraps for as long as we could for several reasons. Harry and I value our privacy and this is still a school." He pointed to the Howler on the table between them. "This is what we still get after four years with people just thinking we live together. Can you imagine the chaos there'd be if our up-coming nuptials were generally known?"

She admitted the reaction had been a bit over the top and said as much. She was calming down now and realised her omission from the 'conspiracy' wasn't personal.

He continued, "We'll be better prepared this time when the public invitations go out. There will be two sets. The first ones will be delivered in two weeks to those we want to actually participate in the ceremony with a strong request the information be kept private. The second set will be sent a week later on October 1st and are for the more public reception the day following the final bonding ceremony. Albus was most insistent about it and Harry and I found it hard to resist." He smiled at the understatement and the thought of the coming negotiations. "I know you may find this hard to believe in light of this conversation, but Harry and I had planned to ask you tomorrow night in person if you would be one of our nuptial witnesses."

Her eyes softened at his statement. "I'd be honoured," she replied to his unspoken question.

He chuckled. "Be careful, Minerva. You may regret it--I know Poppy was going to talk to you and Hermione in a couple of days to help with the arrangements." His mouth quirked upwards. "Seems she takes exception to the amount of time we've given her."

Minerva sighed, only slightly put off. "While I can't blame her, I suppose there's no way to get around it. She'll need all the help she can get to pull it together in such a short length of time." She tilted her head. "So the Ministry has already sanctioned the marriage, albeit quietly. And given you permission to procreate. Quite the compliment."

"It's ironic. Harry and I have already revoked the privilege; we have it set in a private record--we want no issue from this marriage." He gave a half-smile. "Harry can be quite stubborn when he wants to be; he was most adamant about it and, of course, a passel of brats underfoot is exactly what I want as well." He thought mirthlessly, 'It's so typical the assumption everyone has made about the nature of our relationship. Our standing 'decision' about our sex life would preclude such a thing happening in any event and I, for one, am glad we still abide by it.'

McGonagall started to commiserate and then stopped herself. Instead she replied, "Probably not a bad idea all around. Given the two of you and how strong you each are in your respective Houses, we wouldn't want to break the sorting hat, now would we?"

Severus chuckled in appreciation. 'Oh yes, so 'strong'. It would definitely confuse the tatty thing. A Slytherinish Gryffindor mixed with a Gryffindorish Slytherin. What would it do?' He gestured to the door. "I expect we need to be getting back to the Dining Hall. Albus must be foaming by now."

They started back to the door to the Dining Room. Halfway there, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Severus, he is going to be all right, isn't he?"

He put his hand over hers. "In the long run, Minerva? No, he's dying. Slowly, but relentlessly." Seeing the sudden misting in her eyes, he hastily added, "It won't be tomorrow or any time in the near future, but it is coming. You know Harry will do all he can to keep Albus with us for long as possible, assuming Albus is comfortable. After that, who knows? The main thing is that right now we treat him no differently than we always have. Well, within limits, of course." He looked back at the plate of burnt liver. "If only to preserve our hides. He can be a very mean old man when he chooses to be so."

She followed his gaze to the 'revenge' Dumbledore had sent him and laughed.

They started walking back to the door. In parting, he said, "I wouldn't put it past him to hold on for years just to prove us wrong." He opened the door for her.

Minerva smiled, murmuring, "We can only hope so," and preceded him back to the table. When asked by Dumbledore, she said slyly, "It was as we expected. As if you didn't know already."

Dumbledore had the grace to smile; he did indeed know what it had contained as well as their conversation. It had been most amusing.

As Snape was placing his order for a replacement meal, (he threatened a fate worse than death if it was liver again), Harry arrived and plopped down gracelessly next to him, all out of breath from running from their rooms.

"Hullo, Sev! What'd I miss? Anything interesting?" Severus groaned, shaking his head, while the rest of the table smiled.

TBC