CHAPTER 17

A/N:
shogi: Harry still has some powder on his face when Severus removes his make-up. He simply suggested that most, but not all, of the powder be removed, which Ginny accordingly did.

The Snicky Snoofs were invented by me.

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"Vampiric touch?" Nessa's staccato hiss made Harry grin as he sat in front of her portrait telling her about the sketching session; Nessa had been very curious about Luna and Ginny accompanying him down to the dungeons with bags brimming with styling and sketching equipment.

"Yes, and Severus gave us suggestions on how to improve my, erm, pseudo-vampire look. He applied some rouge to my mouth."

"He did it himself?"

Harry nodded, flushing a little.

"Yeah, with a pencil. He seemed quite interested in what we were doing."

"Ah, that is good, very good, young one!" Nessa rubbed herself happily against her pestle, making it teeter precariously from side to side. She wrapped her tail around the upper end and dangled down, her chest and head raised.

"He is used to you now. When he comes back from his classes, he often looks at the chair on which you are currently sitting. He sometimes asks me if you have come back from your training lessons when you both happen to be away."

She blinked one beady eye at him.

"He is not the type to call out 'Hello! Anyone at home?' or "Are you back?' He never likes to show that he-" here Nessa slid the rest of her body down the pestle, "-feels responsible for you."

"Well…he chose to be responsible for me by agreeing to the blood bond," Harry said.

"And now he is choosing to be responsible beyond a blood bond," Nessa observed.

Harry reflected.

It was true that Severus and he were arguing less. The last one about Harry's Patronus disturbing him had actually been quite funny – from Harry's point of view, at least.

Severus had also stopped commenting on or sneering at Harry's conversations with Nessa. He could not, however, always refrain from insulting Harry's intelligence. His exaggerated amazement at Harry's books, for instance. Or when he put down Harry's spell work or said that even two-year-olds could chop up ingredients in a certain way when he was not satisfied with Harry's work.

"He doesn't regard me as an equal," he said at last.

"Not yet," Nessa said.

"But in a way…I mean, he's got brilliant brains, and he knows so much, so I can't be his equal-"

"He is older than you are, therefore his knowledge is broader. But you have talents which he does not possess, and he is more skilled in some domains than you are. It is perfectly natural, Harry Potter, it is one of the world's golden rules. Methinks the Potions Master is interested in your sketches."

"Because he helped with my make-up?"

"Yes." She chuckled again. "Now run along to enjoy the autumn leaves. You may want to sketch some."

Severus Snape glanced down his hooked nose as Sonia Mukherjee, who had just arrived to hold her art class on Friday evening, walked up the stairs to the castle. He gave her a curt nod. She nodded back at him. Severus narrowed his eyes for a moment before calling her, quite correctly, by her title and surname.

"Professor Mukherjee, may I please have a word?" he asked stiffly.

Sonia Mukherjee was not the type to be easily flustered or intimidated by people with lacking social skills. Severus Snape was definitely not very approachable. He was taller than her and he was staring into her eyes in the typical way which unsettled so many people. She looked back at him with perfect composure.

"Certainly," she said.

"How is my husband's performance in your class?"

"He is doing very well. He has skill, patience and plenty of imagination; and he is open to criticism and works hard to improve his technique."

"He shows promise?"

"Oh yes, most definitely, Professor Snape. There is plenty of depth in his drawings."

"Good. I am glad to hear that he is not wasting his or your time."

He nodded briefly at her again and left, this time to ask Professors McGonagall and Moody about Harry's progress. He had already asked Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Auror was very pleased with his pupil. Severus wanted to make sure that Harry Potter was making an effort and not thinking that he could lean back and let Severus, the blood bond and the Order of the Phoenix do all the dirty work. Apart from that, he did not fancy being married to a spoilt lazy brat. Those were the only reasons. At least, that he is what he kept on repeating to himself even as a small whisper observed that he knew very well about Harry's loveless childhood and determination to fight his way through life…and that the brat was a young man who had managed to remain innocent after all the unpleasant incidents in his past. Innocent after that horrible consummation, wondering about his sexual self. Wondering about his husband Severus Snape. Severus had never touched or been touched by sexually inexperienced men. The fact that he felt guilty about taking away Harry's first sexual experience and turning it into an ordeal instead of something caring and beautiful – how idealistic and silly that sounded to him! – had made him determined to hate Harry more than ever. Except that it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to hate Harry. Severus had hit him in the face, broken his arm (albeit inadvertently), was still generally despicable to him on a verbal level. And Harry had somehow managed to get them to be on minimal talking terms. But Harry also had a sense of dignity (which Severus insisted was arrogance à la James Potter) which was one reason why the two clashed so much. On the other hand, Severus would have hated having a meek submissive spouse. What disturbed him the most was that Harry sometimes reminded him of himself, especially where their childhoods and insecurities were concerned. He knew that Harry was still insecure and wanted approval, except that he never crawled on his stomach to obtain it. Like Severus, he preferred struggling for it. Did he want Severus's approval? Why would he care for Severus or his approval? Did Severus want Harry's approval? Never. Definitely not. He recalled the moment when they had been staring into each other's eyes after Harry's Patronus had disrupted his calm session in the library. Eyes. The green eyes behind the glasses. Beautiful eyes. Severus gritted his teeth. Passable eyes. That was better. A rather nice mouth, too. Supple and soft, parting a little when Severus had applied the rouge to it, the fine hairs of the pencil caressing every crease of the lips…Grinding his teeth and blaming a long tiring day for his odd thoughts, he finally reached McGonagall's office.

In art class, Luna's sketch of Harry was received very favourably by Professor Mukherjee.

"I must admit that it is quite sensual," she concluded her feedback. Harry grinned inwardly. Sensual. That word again.

"Cool lipstick," one of the students remarked as the class was split into groups to discuss each other's drawings.

"Yeah. Sexy!" was another opinion.

"Come like that to class next time," a girl said to him flirtatiously, ignoring the fact that he was married.

Harry tried to change the conversation so that the feedback was aimed at the artist rather than at the model. Luna didn't seem to mind indirectly receiving praise through her choice and presentation of model.

"From this evening onwards, the model will turn artist and the artist will become the model," Professor Mukherjee announced at the end of the lesson. "You are to switch roles and paint the other. I will keep your sketches and have a closer look at them. You will get them back next week with a few observations and suggestions."

There was a scraping of chairs as people stood up. Harry looked at Luna.

"You know, I was thinking of a kind of pale water theme with lots of light hues and silver shades. You could have something braided into your hair when you sit for me. Silver threads, for example. They'd look really nice in your hair."

"They won't attract the Snicky Snoofs, will they?"

"The what?"

"Snicky Snoofs. They pluck out all your hair overnight."

"No, no, they don't attract any Snicky Snoofs," Harry said briskly. "So what do you think of a water theme? You've got light eyes and hair and a way about you which reminds me of the fluidity of water."

Luna beamed.

"You are becoming quite poetic, Harry. A bit like Professor Snape, you know."

Harry blinked.

"Er…Really?"

"Oh yes, have you ever noticed his alliterations and the way he uses language in general?" Luna remarked.

Now that Harry thought of it, Severus had even written a riddle in poetic form when he had passed the last barrier to discover Quirrell and the Mirror of Erised which protected the Philosopher's Stone.

"Yeah, I have, but I'd never reach his verbal level," Harry laughed.

Talking about Severus and language reminded Harry that the password to their quarters hadn't been changed for ages. He accordingly gave Nessa the new one and sat down on Severus's favourite sofa to write an essay – courtesy of Professor McGonagall, who was adamant about Harry anchoring information in his memory before realising it in practice. Severus soon arrived after him; he had had to attend a staff meeting.

"Potter! I refuse to have Snape Deluxe as the new password! And how dare you coax that recalcitrant reptile into rejecting a new password of my choice!" he growled.

"At least she didn't make you guess. I asked her not to. And you ought to be flattered!" Harry answered.

Severus simply skewered him with a glare.

"What did you want to change the password to anyway?" Harry asked.

"Tourmaline. A mineral which comes in a great variety of colours. Bi-coloured variations are frequent. The mineral can be green-" here he locked eyes with Harry, "-and rouged with pink or red."

He emphasised "rouge" by drawing out the vowel and switching his gaze to Harry's mouth, which he had rouged not so long ago.

"I'll just be a minute," Harry said, bounding out into the corridor. He returned in a trice.

"The password is Tourmaline and you may change it at any time, but Nessa will inform me beforehand. She suggests that we take turns. One month your password and the next month mine."

"How very nice of you, Potter," Severus remarked, his lip curling.

"I agree," Harry said politely. Going along with the sarcasm seemed to work, taking the wind out of Severus's sails. The Head of Slytherin gave him a cold look.

"I may be forced to share most of my rooms with you, Potter, but kindly raise your Gryffindor posterior from my sofa," Severus said frigidly.

"Sure," Harry answered, having expected Severus to react just that way. He got up and surreptitiously let an Invisible Itch Bomb drop onto the portion of the seat which Severus usually occupied. It was a new experiment of the Weasley twins and they had sent him a generous sample. The effect, of course, was to send the seated person into an itching and scratching frenzy. If Severus was going to be rude, then he had to expect resistance. Unless Severus wanted an irate Headmaster vituperating him thoroughly, he would not be able to punish his own husband very severely. And Harry had not forgotten about Severus's radical two-step treatment of his once turquoise nether regions.

"Why Tourmaline?" Harry wondered he strolled off to his bedroom. He could not recall ever having used it or come across it as a Potions ingredient. Maybe Severus had an ornament or piece of jewellery containing tourmaline as a gemstone? Or perhaps he simply had a fondness for it? And the way Severus had looked into his eyes and then at his mouth. It had been almost…flirtatious. Of course, that was completely impossible. Severus and flirting didn't fit. Severus and flirting with a person he disliked so completely fit even less. His musings were interrupted by a loud roar of rage.

"POTTER!"

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