Hiding Under the Ninth Earth
Book 03 : Epithalamium

Part III : The Beginning of Forever
Chapter Thirty Five : Seeing Double

26 October 2003

Severus Snape-Potter could now recite with his eyes closed more ways to say his new name than he had ever wanted to know. He'd never experienced more people invading his personal space, even at the more crowded Death Eater meetings, and if it weren't for the steady presence next to him, he would have hexed the lot and gone home to brood in the dungeons. As it was, he stood in this parody of a reception line, forced to graciously accept the sentiments of every bloody witch and wizard on Albus' list and not scowl.

Over the course of the evening, he'd found that being pleasant was easier than he'd thought it would be because it turned out his presence wasn't really required; it could have been a reception line of one for all the attention he was given. That Harry was well aware of the neglect and was angry at it on his behalf did give him a bit of a boost, but for the most part (as he'd tried to convey to his spouse with a hand on his back and a surreptitious nuzzle on his neck made to look like a whisper) he didn't mind as it freed him to let his mind wander (to which Harry asked if it was leashed as he would hate to see it get lost).

Cheeky brat.

When they'd first arrived, fashionably late, they'd expected the party to be well on its way, so it was with some surprise they found themselves among the first to arrive. That happy state of affairs, however, had ended too soon. Poppy had no more settled them in their receiving line of two (not counting the Aurors flanking them 'just in case') when the guests had started arriving in droves. It was almost as if the invitations had held a cue that said, "Don't bother, they're not there yet." Or, as his mind grew more fanciful with the tedium, perhaps each of these guests had actually left their domiciles hours ago and had been held in some kind of stasis awaiting the happy couple's arrival. Given Dumbledore's whimsical nature, he supposed either could be true, although he knew the latter would hold a greater appeal to the old scoundrel as he always liked a 'captive' audience. Which led him to wonder what would have happened had they decided not to show up at all.

For the first little while, individuals or couples stood out as they passed by. The new trophy wife of Victor Goyle (had her name really been 'Bunny'?) who seemed to think that her low cut robe revealing her admittedly well-rounded bosom would earn her more than a sneer. Mrs. Dawlish with her little puffskein Fufu tucked in the crook of her arm (growling he might add, whether at him or her Auror husband standing behind him was unclear). He had to wonder how she could afford all the glittering rings, some two-deep, on her plump fingers. And who could forget the positively drooling Mr. Glace, who'd stood mesmerised while limply holding his husband's hand. Harry, at first gracious to the star-struck old queen, eventually had to stamp on his foot to get him to let go when Severus' growls (and the Aurors' not-so-gentle grips on his arms) had no effect. He really didn't think he deserved the dark glare he'd received as the man had finally moved on.

After an interminable time, the sheer numbers clumped together into an unappetising melange. There were the 'well-wishers', each with almost the same words spoken in differing timbres reflecting their varying degrees of sincerity, mostly 'in'. Then there were the human abaci who, with only a quick eyeing of their robes, would calculate their worth to the Knut. The older matrons in particular seemed to have this talent in abundance. Sprinkled liberally within the mixture were the slobbering sycophants (who had arse-kissing to such an art form it almost gave rimming a bad name) standing side by side with the slavering 'you-would-be-so-much-happier-with-me' excreters who only came to see the beautiful 'boy-who-still-lived-even-if-he-has-no-taste-in-lifemates'. Harry usually had some tart 'Severisms' (as he called them) that, although familiar, seemed different when tripping off his lover's tongue (and my, didn't that agile appendage--among others--figure into many of the images they sent to one another to stave off the eventual boredom).

But one thing remained steady through the entire fiasco; it was the oddest thing of the evening in fact, occurring infrequently at first, and then with startling regularity. Intermittently, some of the older guests would stop in mid-greeting, stare at him, Severus, as if he'd grown a third eye, then shrink back with the most amazing looks of disgust, and whisper to their companions as they moved off (quite loudly as if he couldn't hear) that it was such a pity that such a beautiful and brave young man had married such an ugly, grotesque creature. By the third one, Harry was muttering imprecations under his breath, or at least Severus hoped that was what they were; the blackly amusing images floating over to him sometimes bore a remarkable resemblance to the scorching words his husband uttered. By the twentieth or so, he'd begun to be grimly amused, if not a bit confused. By the thirtieth, he'd leaned over to whisper to his spouse that perhaps he should brush up on his spectacles spells instead of his hexes. By the fortieth, the situation was so absurd, even Harry had begun to laugh.

Yet all were eager to be seen with the happy couple (or at least the other half of the happy couple) at this misbegotten reception Dumbledore had planned without them. Indeed.

Upon occasion, someone would thoughtfully press a glass of champagne in his hand, and as soon as they were gone, he would place it on the table behind him, untouched. Between the two of them, there was such a collection of filled glasses, they could have had their own private party if they were so inclined. When his thoughts turned to what that dalliance might entail, Harry snickered next to him and, leaning over to press their arms together, murmured, "Not in front of the kids."

Another glass appeared in his hand and he was about to set it aside when a soft, "Dobby brought the Professor something to drink," made him look down at the tall glass in his hand, barely catching the disappearance of the shyly grinning house-elf. It looked like champagne, but when he raised it to his nose, found it was merely disguised water with a bit of lemon. He drank gratefully, the wet tartness exactly what he needed to soothe a throat raw from swallowing unuttered caustic comments; he raised a brow when it remained full. It almost made up for the bees in the field.

And still the arse-kissing continued. Oh, there were a few exceptions. Harry's best friends, for example. Although he would rip out his tongue before divulging it out loud, he secretly had to admit he'd grown rather fond of them and had found, like the other witnesses, he could sense Ron and Hermione's 'gifts' to their marriage bond. He'd been forewarned that Hermione would not take no for an answer (and he knew from the night before that it would take a stronger persuasion than his scowl to dissuade her from her enthusiasm) so he was at least partially prepared for her eager greeting of a firm hug and buss to his cheek. When she and a quietly sincere Ron (who, thankfully, had shown no similar exuberance) had moved away, he leant over to whisper to Harry, "Affectionate little thing, isn't she?"

Harry chuckled and Severus had no more straightened to greet the next person when he felt Harry stiffen next to him with a low growl and a menacing hiss of Parseltongue. He was unsurprised, therefore, when he looked over to see Lucius Malfoy enter the ballroom, a carefully groomed Bethany by his side, followed by a scowling Draco escorting a very young woman in rich robes far too heavy for her dainty frame. They stood impatiently while the Aurors guarding the entrance took their cloaks. Watching the dynamics, Severus noted the thunder in Draco's face as Lucius obviously admonished him, most likely about his expected behaviour, while Bethany leaned close to the young girl, whispering, her hand soothing against the girl's arm in blatant comfort. Just as the line of people evaporated, Bethany touched Lucius on the sleeve, nodding her head slightly in their direction.

Holding out his arm to her, his head held high, Lucius and his entourage approached, the crowd at the door parting for them as if they were royalty. Severus bit his lip rather than snort at the image Harry sent him of looking up the man's nose and seeing a shriveled fig for his brains. When the next image he received was of both male Malfoys lying on the ground, smoke rising from their dead bodies, he took a quarter step back and moved his arm to place a hand protectively on the small of Harry's back. "Steady," he whispered, feeling the hard tension in Harry's spine.

"Who's the girl?" Harry whispered, looking over at him, his calm face belying the taut cords in his neck. "She can't be more than 15 or 16."

Severus answered quietly, "Eunice Crabbe, Fifth Year. Not as vapid as her older brother, but just as malleable. Fortunately takes after her mother."

Harry nodded and said nothing more. Within moments the four of them arrived. Inclining his head imperiously in greeting, Lucius spoke low, but loud enough for those around them to hear. "Ah, Severus. Harry. Well met. Our best wishes to you both." He guided Bethany to his side. "I do not believe you have had the pleasure of meeting my wife, Bethany."

If Harry descried the subtle insult of the introduction or noticed the flicker in Bethany's eyes when she took Severus' hand to compliment him, he said nothing, nor did he react to the shadow of mischief around her mouth when she firmly took his hand with a sincere, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My best wishes for a long life together to you both."

In a small breach of etiquette, she stepped back to join Lucius before Harry could reply; he did not miss that she'd been skillfully pulled back by her husband. Draco stepped forward, towering over the young woman hanging almost desperately onto his arm. Eyes defiant, he nonetheless took his father's words to heart when he said stiffly, "Professor. Potter. Our--best--wishes for you both." As Harry hoped he'd choke on the words, Draco pulled the fearful girl forward, not outwardly rough, but Harry saw her small wince. Without noticing her distress, the arrogant young man said, "I would like to present my fiancée, Eunice Crabbe."

Severus felt sorry for the girl, who reluctantly removed her thin hand from Draco's arm to take his as she offered her murmured felicitations. He could feel it shaking in his hand as he inclined his head, his face as pleasant as he could make it under the circumstances. "Miss Crabbe, as your Head of House, I thank you and may I offer our best wishes in return on your recent betrothal." Instinctively he knew he'd not caused the sudden terror in her eyes at his simple statement. It made him want to throttle the younger Malfoy, but he kept his face neutral, making a mental note to keep an eye out for her when he got back from Hana. Maybe he should alert Minerva and Poppy beforehand since they usually counseled the young females of all the houses in this sort of thing. He certainly couldn't think of any useful advice he could possibly give her, except, perhaps, "Run!" or "Do you know how to use a knife?"

With these thoughts, he somehow missed whatever it was Draco had softly said that made Harry's jaw clench so hard it popped, but, whatever it was, it had lit a fire of anger in Lucius as he put his hand on Draco's shoulder, the knuckles whitening. With a false chuckle, he decried, "One would have hoped that schoolboy rivalries could have dissipated with time, although in this case it appears that once cursed with one, always cursed. No matter. We should not hold up the line any further as there appears to be others who also seek to capture your attention."

This time Severus gritted his teeth. He was about to utter something he was quite sure he would regret later when Harry spoke up quietly, "Perhaps you are right, Mr. Malfoy, but I have found, in my admittedly limited experience, that curses of that particular nature are only as strong as those who sustain them." He slid his eyes over to Draco and then back to stare at Lucius. "Of course, it's always refreshing when one's able to break them."

Severus choked back his bark of laughter at the rising choler in Lucius' face, his thin lips pressed tight together. There were many things about Lucius that Severus hated, but he'd always admired his control. Harry's, on the other hand, was only a thin veneer hiding a deep pulsing anger. Every second the two stared at each other, Severus could feel it intensifying. What at first had been a comforting hand on the small of his back, now became an anchor to keep his husband from launching himself or his magic at the man he confronted.

The Aurors around them tensed.

With the two men concentrating so strongly on each other, Severus hazarded a glance around and saw several people, including a reporter, riveted to the scene building before them. Bethany, her own cautious gaze fixed on her husband, happened to catch Severus' eye. With a flash of understanding (and a bit of regret) she nodded her head slightly before shifting her attention back to Lucius. Severus slid his hand up Harry's spine until it rested lightly on his nape, the fingers gently massaging the rigid muscles under the soft skin. At the same time, Bethany subtly brushed her hand and stomach against her husband. The results for both were instantaneous. Harry's tense shoulders immediately dropped; looking at the floor, he began to chuckle.

Lucius' head tilted down, his downcast eyes looking at Bethany behind him. With a deep breath, he turned to his wife, holding out his arm with a, "Come, my sweet, you and Number Two must be famished." Wordlessly she took it, both hands squeezing tight. Lucius looked sharply at her and finally relaxed when he saw the raw concern in her face. As they turned away, he snapped his fingers for Draco and Eunice to follow. Forgotten in the foray, Draco sneered at Harry as he passed, Eunice clinging to his arm.

With a deep sigh, Harry lifted his face to Severus asking, "How juvenile would it be to just stick my tongue out at him?"

Resisting the temptation to kiss him, Severus murmured, "Not nearly as juvenile as me hexing him into next week," while sending Harry a picture of what he'd rather be doing with his mouth.

Harry flushed a little and leaned back slightly, touching their bodies lightly together. "Thanks. I'm very glad you were here to stop me because 'hexing' him was the least thing on my mind."

"Um, sirs?" They both turned to look at the Auror, Denley, who with his partner had effectively blocked the line after the Malfoys had left. Severus felt chagrined that he'd been so involved with Harry, he'd not even noticed it. "Do you want to continue receiving guests or should we tell the rest that they're too late and to just go on in?"

Harry spoke first, which was probably for the best because Severus still wanted to pack the whole lot of them up and send them home. "No, I'm all right. Go ahead and send them on. I'm sorry I held things up; something about that man just makes the hairs on my neck stand up."

"You and everyone else," the Auror muttered with an understanding smile as he stood back letting the people in the line continue.

Some time later, when the last two passed through (a Mr. Colch, the Associate Administrator of St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and his homely wife, Nadine) Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Rubbing his sore and reddened hand to get some circulation back into it, he muttered a spell to remove the inevitable swelling from shaking so many hands. Despite Severus' murmured, "You needn't bother, they were not nearly as enthusiastic with mine as they were with yours," Harry took Severus' and whispered the same spell while stroking the back of it with his thumbs. As they stared at each other, communicating through the bond their desire to be elsewhere, a flash went off, breaking their communion. As one their heads turned to glare at a grinning Colin Creevey, now a free-lance photographer for the various newspapers, including a couple of Muggle rags.

"Mr. Creevey?" Severus began, taking a step towards him. Colin's grin got even bigger, and with a wave, he melted into the crowd. Severus scanned the area and, shrugging off his failure to find the brat, turned back to find that his brat had been swept away from him. He swore softly with annoyance; it was bad enough to have to be at a function like this with Harry, pure torture to be at one without.

However, after a few fruitless minutes of searching the crowd, he gave it up and nursed his ever-full glass of lemon water. He slowly made his way through the crowd, unsurprised at the lack of greetings, until he arrived at a raised corner occupied by another small group of Aurors. He found he had a commanding view of the room and while he used the advantage to try and spot his husband, he also worked his way through the odd feelings coursing through him after their encounter with the Malfoys.

For some reason, he'd thought the inevitable encounter with the Malfoys would leave him feeling angry and mortified; however, after further reflection he realised this unexpected, undefined ebullience within him had everything to do with Harry's combative reaction to them. In that instant, when Harry had held Lucius in an unspoken challenge, his husband's few words and the impotent anger rising in Lucius' face, gave back to Severus much of the dignity he'd lost over the previous day. And he wasn't certain if this was good or bad. On the one hand, this new, vindicated feeling that Harry would have defended his honour to the death made him feel light inside and cherished. On the other hand, it had felt so good, he was concerned he wouldn't try to stop Harry the next time (and he was sure there would be a next time) just so he could feel it again. He shook his head at his wayward thoughts. No, he was being fanciful. He had felt too many protective feelings towards Harry for too many years; he would never let him challenge someone just to make himself feel better.

"Professor Snape?" He turned his head to the Auror standing next to him. "He's over to the right, about twenty feet to the left of the punchbowl, standing with Minister Weasley. Just look for the knot of red hair."

As the Auror stepped back into his group, Severus nodded his thanks and looked in the direction the other man had indicated. Having a target, he easily spotted his husband and unconsciously smiled. Harry may have been part of the group, but his gaze rapidly scanned the crowd and when he saw Severus, their eyes connected. Harry's apologetic smile turned into a boyish grin, his eyes widening a bit when Severus opened the bond and let it connect across the room. With a wink, Harry turned his attention back to Arthur.

With Harry's comforting presence inside warding off the manic feel of the event, Severus went in search of a certain sneaky, conniving headmaster who would probably have a perfectly reasonable excuse for breaking an inviolable Wizarding Contract. It didn't take long for him to spot Dumbledore off in the opposite corner, surprisingly by himself, casually watching the crowd, although Severus knew from his stance that it was just a pose; Albus Dumbledore was on full alert.

Severus made his way purposefully around the perimeter of the room, once again unaccosted by anyone interested in speaking to him. But he had to admit, as before, the snippets of conversation captured as he passed the various knots of people were enlightening in their own right. He slowed to catch as many of them as he could knowing somehow that Albus was not going anywhere. And he'd been right; Albus smiled pleasantly as Severus approached.

Stopping before him, he crossed his arms debating how he should handle this. Deciding direct confrontation instead of his normal round-about way of asking might loosen the old man's tongue, Severus said, "We had a contract, old man."

"So we did, Severus," he answered equably, that damnable twinkle rampant in his eyes.

Rocking back on his heels, Severus thought about it a moment. "Who did you trick into doing your dirty work this time?"

Dumbledore looked hurt. "I didn't 'trick' anyone. It was a clerical error."

Brow raised, Severus said with waspish scepticism, "A clerical error?"

"Certainly, my boy. You don't think I did this on purpose, do you?" He shook his head ruefully at Severus' outrage, holding up a hand to forestall his heated reply. "All right, I suppose I should have said something when I discovered the problem, but really, the invitations were already well away and I couldn't just take them back once they were gone and opened, now could I?"

When Severus just glared at him, Dumbledore sighed. "Minerva wrote the invitations, damn fine job she did, too, and when she finished, she caught me on my way over to see Filius. I told her the guest list was on my desk, not realising that the old one I'd originally shown to Harry was there as well. I thought I'd dispelled it, but it must have fallen off the desk, and the house elves put it back; you know how much parchment I have there--I never noticed it. Going to my office alone, Minerva picked up the wrong list and sent out all the invitations to everyone on it. It was an innocent mistake."

He had him. Finally, after all these years, he had him, solidly caught. With glee Severus chortled, "Everyone on the list except Bellatrix, Albus. I overheard one of the guests saying she was livid that she did not receive an invitation." For the first time in his life, Severus was delighted to see the Headmaster speechless. He leaned over and whispered, "You know this is going to cost you dearly, don't you?" At Albus' raised brow, Severus chuckled evilly. "Oh, not now. I want to savour the options, give them time to simmer and bubble before I serve my retribution. Hot or cold, Albus? Do you have a preference?"

Albus' eyes slid all around him, then suddenly he smiled, rather like a shark about to grab a fish as he slyly asked, "How about lukewarm, Severus?"

"Tepid? No, I think not, old man. That's for old tea and old women--"

"Albus! There you are!" Poppy exclaimed as she bore down on them with purpose in her eyes. "Don't tell me you're hiding to get out of the toasts."

"No, my dear. Severus and I were just talking about the 'proper' temperature to serve 'just desserts'."

Frazzled, Poppy looked between them both and sighed. Finally settling her eyes on her husband she huffed, "Albus, I do not want to know;" she moved her eyes to Severus, "however, I've always found ice cold is best for those kinds of sweets." As an afterthought, she patted Severus on the arm. "I'm sorry I had no time to talk to you and Harry in the beginning, but the caterer delivered the wrong petit--" She stopped cold at his impassive face. "Right. You don't want to know." When he smiled, she added, "I meant to tell you earlier--the robes are magnificent; Carlotta will be so pleased to see you wearing them. She was quite convinced you would return them, but I told her there were two to a pair and that Harry would probably convince you to keep them. Remarkable sense that boy has sometimes. Anyway, I scolded her proper this morning when it finally dawned on me what spell she'd used last night. You and Harry must have had a devil of a time getting them off--probably had to shred them I shouldn't wonder."

Refocusing his glazed eyes, Severus remarked dryly, "Actually, after exhausting both our supplies of spells, Harry had to banish them." Then, seeing Dumbledore's smug expression and the look they both exchanged, he chuckled. "And it seems to me there's two to your pair as well. Well done, Poppy. For the moment, I am defused, but--" and he leaned over to whisper in her ear, "after tonight, all wagers as to my good behaviour are off."

Chuckling, she patted his cheek and whispered back, "Oh, I don't know about that. As long as you give him a few second's head start, I'll see your bet and raise you." She pulled back, her eyes merry. "Albus?"

"Mmmm, yes, dear?" he answered, bemused by the exchange.

"Toasts?" she asked, cocking her head at him.

"Oh, right," he replied. With a piercing glance at Severus over his spectacles as Poppy took his arm, they left.

"Don't count on it, Mrs. Dumbledore," Severus muttered to the empty space beside him. "Don't count on it."

Beyond the chaotic noise and the simpering toadies, Harry hated functions like this and if one more person congratulated him on a feat done over four years ago (conveniently forgetting why they were here in the first place) he was not certain he could be held accountable for his actions. That Severus was largely ignored (or regarded with outright disfavour) as he cruised the room made Harry's blood boil, especially in light of how the Malfoys were often as much a favourable part of the various conversations as he himself was. The Aurors accompanying him adroitly steered him (or them) away from each other every time it appeared they might meet, which, given the size of the old Savoy ballroom and the vast number of guests present, happened far more often than he would have thought. How like the Malfoys to try and deliberately provoke him.

He had been trying ever since they'd been separated to find his way back to his lover, but every time he'd made his way over, he'd been caught and grabbed by this group or another all bent on catching his attention for however long he would tolerate it. After a while, he'd given up, content to let the people who stopped him bend his deaf ears, his real attention focused on Severus and what he was about.

From the gleeful triumph and the montage of retributive images he was getting from Severus, Harry had known precisely when his husband met up with Dumbledore, although the amusement he felt towards the tail end of their encounter confounded him until the image of a grinning Poppy standing before the old man with a flaming sword entered his head and he realised that she'd somehow diffused the tense situation.

For a while he'd followed Severus' progress through the crowd, noting when he stopped to eavesdrop on conversations or when he moved on with barely concealed disgust (and he supposed the impossible images he received of two of the guests was a hint of what one was propositioning to the other). Once, Severus was just a few knots of people away and he watched, fascinated, as Severus thanked Quiesta for the robes--or at least he assumed he was thanking her. He shrugged; with Severus it was hard to tell sometimes. However, whatever his husband had just said made her laugh out loud, her head thrown back; if he strained, he wagered he could hear the same sound, as rare as that, from his husband.

As they continued to talk, his thoughts turned to his former teacher. When he'd first met her over four years ago, he'd been intimidated by her sharp tongue and wit. Over time, he'd realised that, unlike his mate (who liberally bestowed his barbs on anyone who crossed his path), she only used them on people she liked and could take the same in return. In this regard, she was very much like Severus; the tart rejoinders rolled out of them both with such ease, he suspected it would be a rare treat if the two of them ever faced off, providing he wasn't the target, of course.

He realised that while he'd been wool-gathering, Severus had moved off and, with a quick check of the bond, found him on the other side of the room. Damn, the man moved around a lot. He decided he was not going to be kept separate from his mate any longer and with greater determination, worked his way over.

Severus' conversation with Quiesta had been surprisingly enjoyable. After enduring a few brief comments about the robes (for which he had indeed thanked her), they settled into a comfortable discussion concerning the Owl he'd sent her. While a part of him was tempted to withhold the reason why he'd been so cagey in his wording, her earnestness pleased him and they fell into an easy give and take of information that to the casual listener was confusing, but to them made perfect sense. He got the information he needed for a new potion he was trying to make, and she got some exciting news about some new techniques Harry was trying; she resolved to talk to the man when he returned to Hogwarts as tonight was neither the time nor the place for that particular topic. The conversation ended as easily as it had begun, the two of them moving off in opposite directions.

Well aware of Harry's presence and distraction, Severus endeavored to keep his very bored mate amused with the snippets of conversation he was hearing as he became a shadow flitting through the huge room unobserved. In a way, this exercise of his retired skills as a spy was rather refreshing, and he made certain Harry knew he didn't mind being ignored as he could feel the rising temper from his mate at his supposed ill-treatment by the guests purportedly here to see them both. Indeed. It was Harry they were after and it was his light that made Severus' shadows. Which suited his pleasure; it was more fun eavesdropping where he didn't belong than actively participating.

They were all here: Death Eaters and Aurors, sinners and saints, and for the most part he could recite to himself their past escapades and speculate on their futures. He spotted Mrs. Fortesque, maven of society, who had a secret penchant for wine and for young men to warm her bed. She could get both by the seemingly limitless Galleons she wielded and the secrets she could divulge (although if she knew of her husband's gambling habits, as he suspected she did, she kept that as discreetly hidden as she did her current lover). He listened in to Mr. Culver propositioning Miss Gelding, both with a secret proclivity towards things rough and binding. Her quiet, crude response to his grovelling had been most illuminating; watching them work their way separately through the crowd to hire a room to indulge in their 'play' had been as amusing as speculating the possible punishments the man would beg from her before the night's end.

He stepped over between two groups, dividing his attention while learning from one that Lucius Malfoy had been branching out into Muggle financing, something he knew Arthur would be interested to learn, while from the other he discovered that Draco had a new lover in Knockturn Alley who was routinely paid off for his silence about certain 'injuries' he received on a regular basis. The talk was commiserating with Lucius for having such a vicious son and it was all Severus could do not to join the gossiping fools and remark that they should be considering the sire as much as the offspring; the boy had to have learned it from someone.

In fact, most of the conversations he heard followed one of several themes. The foremost was Harry and himself and the dissenting opinions about their union. Given the responses, he almost forgave Albus his deception this evening; the headmaster's cleverness in posting their Banns far from prying and malicious eyes had been propitious, for their bonding most certainly would have been rejected by this crowd.

The talk concerning Lucius Malfoy and his continuing, burgeoning fortunes and his investments in Muggle industry and commerce ran neck and neck with the heated discussions of politics, the sometimes voluable arguments of suitability evenly divided between Arthur and a host of other various, anonymous candidates who would 'certainly be better than Dumbledore's pet politician'.

Interesting, that. They'd said the same things about Fudge at one time.

He was almost alarmed by a recitation of the number of Slytherin births in the last two years and it was when he was thinking of the ramifications to the House sortings if the trend continued that Harry sidled up to him. "One would think you would be excited by an increase in Slytherin House," he remarked quietly, running his hand up Severus' arm, when he heard what was bothering him.

Severus gazed at Harry, his eyes softening for a moment before creasing in concern. "One might be if there were corresponding increases in the other Houses as well. But to the best of my knowledge there has been none out of the ordinary, which means that if the Sorting Hat is keeping things relatively even, there will be many who would be better suited to my House who are sorted into the others. I find this disturbing if their native tendencies run true."

"I don't know--might be nice to have more Slytherinish Gryffindors. At least I wouldn't be so alone. And think of the possibilities for Potions classes. The potential mayhem is astounding!" Harry exclaimed with a wicked grin.

Severus rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you loved me." His eyes moved back to the target they'd been holding when Harry had arrived.

Harry, noting that Severus was distracted by something off in the distance, asked him, "What are you staring at?"

"Who, not what." he replied, not taking his eyes off his mark. "Sprout and McGonagall. I've been trying to figure out for the last few minutes what the two of them are planning. If Pomona's wicked little glances to Minerva mean what I think they do, then they are up to no good."

"You sound fairly positive about that."

"During my first years teaching I was convinced that either Pomona had been placed in the wrong house or that someone let a Slytherin head the Hufflepuffs. Oh, I know she looks innocent, but she's as sneaky as--me--and was always the one behind their little escapades. Used to drive Albus batty what those two could get up to."

Harry laughed. "High praise indeed. Did they get into trouble a lot?"

Severus looked at him with pity, murmuring, "Didn't I just say that?"

Harry huffed, "Well, how am I to know? To us students, Sprout grew plants and McGonagall was our starchy Head of House. Didn't even notice them together all that much until after I left Hogwarts. And then what was I supposed to do, walk up to them and ask, 'What mischief are you two old biddies planning and can I watch?'"

Snorting, Severus replied, "Lovers, Harry, long-time lovers--so I doubt very seriously they would have 'let you watch'. Although nowadays I daresay they're more friends than anything else. They certainly didn't pledge one another, although they did share quarters for a while."

Making a face, Harry asked, "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm certain," Severus declared with asperity. "Everyone knew. I even deducted points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff one night because I caught them snogging in the corridor after curfew."

"No wonder McGonagall was so smug this afternoon," Harry muttered to himself. "And I wasn't questioning that they were lovers; I was questioning that they were no longer lovers. I mean they are always together and they patrol the hallways together and--?" He let his voice trail off as a question.

Severus mulled this over a few seconds. "Well, I suppose I stopped assuming they were still lovers after you told Albus and I about McGonagall's current preferences..."

Harry stared at him incredulously. "Oh yeah--that. You don't think...?"

Severus stared at him with a moue of distaste. "Sprout?"

The thought and images hung between them as Harry said for both, "Ewwww."

Shaking himself, Severus said primly, "Maybe we should just see what, if anything, they're up to now and see what we can do to 'help'; anything that disturbs Albus' party can only be for the good."

Making their way over to them, Harry asked Severus, "Isn't that Iacio over there?"

"Where?" Severus demanded, his head turning to search the room for the little toad.

"He's over by the punchbowl, to your right."

Severus' eyes searched the crowd and, when two ladies standing in front of them moved on, spotted the tiny man, swaying as he talked to Minister Fudge. "Ah, half-soused. Why am I not surprised?" he muttered, his eyes fixed on the former Ancient Runes Professor. There were so many things he disliked about the man, from his self-righteous parsimony to his hypocritical 'temperance' to his blatant homophobia, which had caused Harry and himself, among others he knew, quite a bit of distress before Albus had finally sacked him.

They arrived behind Minerva and Sprout in time to overhear her say to Minerva, "Who do you dislike more? Iacio or Fudge?"

"Hmmm. Now there's a toss-up," Minerva muttered, her eyes fixed on the two in question.

"I have an idea, but we'll need a distraction--"

"What are you two reprobates planning and how can we help?" Severus whispered in McGonagall's ear. He almost grinned publicly at her startled jump.

"Severus Snape!" she exclaimed holding her chest. "Damn it, do you want to kill me?"

"Hardly and that's Snape-Potter now. You do recall, don't you, what the Potter part was like?" At her calculating glance, he added, "Well, consider me corrupted."

Minerva raised a brow at Harry's grin while Pomona chuckled. "I think, perhaps you have that backwards, my dear Professor," she replied sweetly. "Harry was merely mischievous; you are evil, which makes you the perfect accomplice." She turned to Harry and patted him on the cheek. "Pay attention, Harry, and learn from the masters. Here's what we had in mind..."

With mischief managed (as Harry's father would have proudly approved), a sloppy kiss (including tongue, which had the desired effect Severus had predicted months ago), and several flashbulbs later, Severus and Harry had just stumbled away from the excitement when a matron they accidentally bumped into started screaming for the Aurors to 'take the vagrant away'. Immediately two Aurors, both unknown to Harry, materialised, one grabbing Severus roughly by the arm telling him to beat it while the other tried to pull his companion off of Severus. With everything so confused, the second Auror asked the first why he was accosting the guest of honour (with Harry demanding he unhand his husband) while his companion demanded to know why he was defending such a sorry piece of work. In the ensuing argument, Severus and Harry snuck off to a corner balcony outside to laugh themselves silly.

"What the hell was that all about?" Harry asked, catching his breath.

"I haven't a clue," Severus choked out. Then his face went still for a moment. "Unless--"

"Unless what?"

"Oh, it couldn't be," Severus declared with rising mirth. "Or could it?"

"Severus, you're almost as bad as Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation.

"There's no need to be insulting," Severus sniffed. "I think we forgot to remove the disguising charm I was using when I went with Remus to chase Peter. That must be it; those who don't know me personally see me as a vagrant whereas those who do know me see me as I really am. It certainly would explain the reaction of some of the guests to the 'ugly old man' in the receiving line."

Harry blinked and then chortled, "Oh! That's just too funny. Here, let me remove it," and suiting actions to words, Harry uncast the spell. There was a brief flash and he could only assume it was removed. "Pity in a way. We could have kept it on just to see the guests' reactions."

"I must admit, the idea is tempting if for no other reason than it would upset some of Dumbledore's plans, but I am glad to be rid of it all the same." He raised a brow, looking to both sides. "And while we're here--" He pulled Harry close and stole a long kiss. "Ah, now that's more the thing," he murmured, dipping in to take another one.

When they broke for air, Harry asked softly, "What do you say we leave now and go on to Hana."

"Splendid idea," Severus agreed. "If we're lucky, no one will even notice we're gone."

After one more long, heated kiss that left them breathlessly wanting more, they left the balcony and re-entered the party, the air close and stifling compared to that outside. They were halfway across the ballroom when Harry stopped. Staring at Lucius in the distance, Harry felt a deep hatred well up within him.

"Steady now," Severus murmured, seeing where his gaze had gone. He put his hand on his husband's arm. "I know, I want to kill him, too, but we are more civilised than that, aren't we?"

"We are?" Harry queried with a tilt of his head, relaxing a bit. "Why would we do something so stupid? We could get him from here, no one the wiser."

Severus chuckled. "Careful, love, your Slytherin is showing."

A few minutes later as they slowly made their way to the doors and seeing Lucius work the crowd, Severus looked thoughtful as he leaned over to ask quietly, "Tell me, what one thing would Lucius hate more than losing money?"

Eyeing the man across the room with his stiff carriage and even stiffer pride, Harry replied, "He would hate losing his position?" He gazed at his husband's devious face with obvious delight. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

When Severus whispered to Harry his thoughts, Harry's face got brighter until with a wicked grin, he exclaimed, "Oh! We can't not do it!"

And so they did--to the headmaster's consternation and eternal amusement.

Long before the party was over, before the first toasts were even uttered, two long-weary lovers left unnoticed to go home, their interest in the proceedings long exhausted, their need for sleep long overdue. Or so they thought. Outside the entry to the banquet hall, a familiar house-elf, resplendent in bright red robes and mismatched socks, met them before they could Apparate to Hogwarts. With a comment that the headmaster had asked him to see them well on their way, he'd quietly spelled them out of hot formal robes into Muggle clothing of light-weight shirts and trousers, handed them a packet of their things already packed and shrunk for their journey, and finally gave them a book of erotic poetry, the Portkey to their final destination.

Grateful, the elder of the two pocketed the packet and with sighs of relief they each took hold of the slim volume, silently disappearing as it activated. After what seemed like forever, they arrived in a verge of trees on the edge of a warm black sand beach in the early afternoon. While their minds screamed 'night' to them, they quickly realised the day was still half-new in this place, ready to be lived again. Not that they really cared; thoughts of sleep occupied their minds and bodies for the moment.

Staggering along a clearly marked path through the foliage, they soon came to a small, run-down shack, its broken windows and weather-worn siding and termite-eaten, sagging roof speaking of better days before the last hurricane; the small house looked (for all intents and purposes) empty and abandoned. But they both knew appearances could be deceiving; in this case, very much so, for it was their home, a small sanctuary far away from the first bites of winter, safe and snug in the warm tropics.

Once they crossed an invisible line (which to everyone Muggle would just remind them of an errand they had elsewhere), the magical disguise and wards over the place disappeared to reveal a trim little cottage with fresh siding and huge expanses of glass overlooking the beach and the ocean. The roof still sagged, the lanai still needed new railings, and the garden still begged to be planted, but it was theirs and they looked forward to the coming week as they planned to make repairs with the assistance and companionship of their island friends.

The dark coral steps up to the lanai were new and certainly better than the old rotted wooden slats they had replaced. While they barely had enough energy to climb the stairs, they had sufficient to lean against one another, one pair of arms wrapped snugly from behind around a slender waist as they both gazed back the way they'd come, their bodies sapped by the languid heat working its lazy magic on them. The younger one leaned back against the elder, breathing deeply of the foreign, yet welcome, scents of their second home.

He turned to face his husband in the loose circle of his arms, perching on top of the sturdiest rail, face lifted in invitation. As he slid his hands up the firm chest in front of him to encircle the strong neck and shoulders, the arms around him tightened as the tempting mouth descended to mould to his, their homecoming marked by a kiss as sweet as the scents of the plumeria blossoms littering the lanai and as tender as the breeze gently ruffling their hair.

It was the most natural thing in the world to deepen the kiss, for the body on the rail to open up, to draw his lover closer to him with arms and legs, for the arms wrapped around the slender waist and back to tighten, to pull his beloved closer until their hearts beat as one, their tired bodies content. When it ended, they held each other close, eventually parting, each knowing they needed to move sometime soon.

"Ben says they fixed up a room for us until we can get the place in shape," Harry murmured languidly.

"Quite thoughtful of them, really, as was all the other work they did on the outside," Severus replied, loosening his arms enough to stroke the firm back under his hands. "When I received his last letter, he'd mentioned they'd done a little work, but I'd no idea they'd done so much."

Taking the hint, Harry unwrapped his legs, letting them swing freely against the rail, which started to lean with the movement. His husband stepped back, tightening his arms as he lightly pulled him off the rail to stand in front of him. The rail swayed once and then fell over into the weeds below. Twisting his body around to look at it, Harry remarked dryly, "Well, love, I guess we have our work cut out for us this week. However, Ben's left the passwards and I'm knackered. What say you we indulge in a late afternoon cuddle and nap?"

With a smile and a kiss to his forehead, Severus said, "That, my love, sounds like one of your better ideas."

"Better? All my ideas are good, I'll have you know," Harry remarked laughingly as they approached the entrance.

Raising a brow and chuckling, they opened the door and stepped into the--

"Oh!"

"Wow!"

TBC