Disclaimer: I do not own and am not associated with any stake holders in the Harry Potter empire. I'm quite clearly not about to make any money off it.

Chapter Two : The Ceremony.

"For better, For worse, forever until we should die," Harry repeated, hating the meaning of every word he said. The rest of his life was to be spent with the man opposite him, who looked equally displeased. Harry briefly wondered why Snape would want to marry him, but dispelled the thought when he felt the magic settle between them. It was old magic, he knew that, the most ancient magic that was love, or meant to be Harry thought sourly.

"This wedding is henceforth witnessed, you may kiss the groom," Headmistress McGonagall pronounced. Harry stared Snape in the eyes. He's either going to make this painful, or painful Harry decided. In the end, Harry reached up and gave the older man a peck on the cheek that was returned somewhat awkwardly.

After the magic swirled, in glittering gold and silver, Harry turned back towards his husband. His husband for life. Harry loathed the thought. The man who'd been as cruel as cruel towards him for as long as he could remember. The man that sold out his parents to Voldemort...

Perhaps sensing the changing emotions in the air, the Headmistress intervened.

"Severus, would you like to show Harry to your rooms?" she asked kindly, "Maybe have a cup of tea?" Harry scowled, he wanted something stronger than tea, he'd just kissed his potions professor! My husband the annoying voice corrected. Harry mentally told it to shut up as he followed Snape down the stairs and predictably towards the dungeons.

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"The ministry rules dictate that we must share a bed," Snape said blandly as Harry stared in shock at the bed they were to share. It was certainly larger than the four poster in his old dormitory, but still, if Harry had thought this morning that he was to be sharing a bed with Snape by that very night, he would've suggested that they stop reading the Quibbler. He nodded to show Snape that he understood and was listening. "This room," he pointed to a door on the right, "leads to my personal offices. Note the word 'personal', if I see you in there, you will be punished."

"Punished?" Harry cried in outrage. Snape gave no indication that he heard Harry.

"The door on the left leads to your own personal office," he sneered. "for answering fan mail and the like,"

Harry scowled, but knew that any fight he picked was not likely to be won by him.

"There are some clothes in the wardrobe," he eyed Harry's muggle clothing with a look of pure disgust. "I expect you to always be well dressed, in my company" he paused "or not." Harry fought the temptation to roll his eyes. Dramatic pauses were the stuff of potions lectures, not talking to one's husband. "You will get changed, I will prepare tea," He left with a swish of his robes.

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Harry had to admit that the new clothes were a lot classier than Dudley's old cast-offs. The pants were gray and black, fitted and very flattering. The shirts were soft brushed cotton in dark tones. He found that he didn't mind Snape's tendancy to dress him in black, black rather suited him. But he wasn't about to tell Snape how pleasantly surprised he was by the fashion sense.

He walked back through into the lounge and into the appreciative eyes of Snape. He tried to ignore it, as far as he was concerned it was a marriage of convenience and it would be stretching it to even be friends with the old Professor. Harry decided to thank him for the clothes, if only to make conversation.

"Sir-"

"Harry, I-"

They'd both spoken at the same time. Snape glared at Harry.

"I expect to be called 'Severus' and Severus only. Professor Snape in conversation to other students. Nothing more, nothing less, Mr Snape," he snapped. A great start, Harry winced.

"I wanted to thank you for the clothes," Harry said timidly coming to a realisation that he decided was best shared at a later date. For why did Snape have clothes that fitted him perfectly when Harry had only been on the scene for a matter of minutes?

"That's quite alright," Snape said coldly. "Now if you excuse me, I have some brewing to do,"

And with that, he left Harry alone with his tea.

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Dear Ron and Hermione,

Quite a lot has happened since the last time I wrote, the Ministry have passed a law initiating forced marriage. But I'm sure you've seen the prophet, so I won't go into detail. I am now married to Snape. It's all happened rather fast, as if I didn't marry Snape, I would've been forced to marry Lucius Malfoy. I can't say that I'm happy. But I won't say that I'm unhappy.

I hope that you're enjoying Spain.

Harry.

Harry hated his letter, it sounded so stupid. But what exactly could he say? There are no polite, endearing words for 'Oh and by the way, I just got married to Professor Snape', not mentioning the fact that he's some sort of ice princess. Harry sighed and walked to the Owlery, enjoying the break from the gloom of the dungeons.

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Finally, it was dinner time. In the Holiday's, the Professors all ate in the Staff Room, which of course made Harry feel uncomfortable seeing as he was not remotely Professor-y. He'd been to his room in Gryffindor Tower and packed up his belongings, shrunk them and put them in his pocket. At least the marriage has solved my living crisis, he thought bleakly pushing at his food. Alcohol was being passed around, Harry took a butterbeer, deciding it would be stupid for him to make a fool of himself getting drunk. He felt Snape roll his eyes at the choice of drink, especially when the long haired professor poured a rather large shot of firewhiskey.

"To marriage," the elder man proposed dryly.

"To marriage," Harry repeated feeling a bit stupid.

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Eventually it was time for what Harry feared the most, bed time. He'd showered, dressed in his new pyjama's (green silk) and selected a book for his night time reading. There were some books on the right side, so he assumed he was to take the left. For all of his worry, he was asleep long before Snape even entered the room and far too long to hear the soft whisper of "Goodnight,"

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Harry woke later in the night and watched the Potions Professor sleep. It was hard to believe that the man could be an evil bastard after watching him sleep. He was the definition of pure innocence, save for the Dark Mark on his exposed arm. Although he looked utterly beautiful in his sleeping state, he's still a bastard. Harry decided, little did he know how often that would be reinforced over the coming weeks...

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A/N : So here's chapter two, I was bored and couldn't sleep last night so I decided to get all of the boring part of the story out of the road. I've also had another idea for a Snarry, which has quite a different scenario and will be more fluffy/dramatic. But I'll do this one until it settles in and think about others later.

Next Chapter, you can expect quite a bit of fighting, angst and confused emotions.

-SforSnarry