Okay, so chapter three is up despite the severe lack of reviews I recieved for chapter two (not even one review!) I suppose this must have something to do with it taking me three months to write the second chapter. The bonding ceremony and everything took me forever. But this chapter came to me easily, as I think the fourth one will. Its a little bit shorter than the other ones, but I didn't want to drag the chapter out and make it boring. I hope you all enjoy it, and I would really appreaciate a couple of reviews (just saying.)
Snape stared at Harry's lifeless form hunched against the wall. It had probably been a bad idea to choke him so hard, but what was done was done. He considered leaving him and going down to the Great Hall, but Dumbledore would ask why Harry was missing from dinner. A responsible adult would take Harry up to the Hospital Wing, but Snape had seen people choked unconscious before and knew he'd revive on his own soon enough. Snape pulled a text from the shelf- "Gilby Gilbert's Encyclopedia on Tropical Flora and Their Usage in the Cosmetic Arts" sat at the table, and started reading.
Snape read a paragraph on the Paullinia cupana, a fascinating plant most commonly associated with Potions that give the drinker uncommon strength and energy, but which with Snape thought may have properties that would help with the potion he was developing help prevent oil buildup in hair. He glanced over to Harry, who had still not moved. He looked his watch then stood up to check Harry's pulse, just in case. Though it would undoubtedly be the easiest way out of the marriage, Snape couldn't imagine Dumbledore would be thrilled if Harry died prior to killing off Voldemort.
Snape slapped Harry lightly on his cheek a few times and then checked his wrist for a pulse. Harry's eyelids fluttered. Snape almost sighed from relief but stopped himself just in time. Why should he care if Harry lived or died? Save for the obvious inconvenience in explaining to Dumbledore his death, of course.
Harry had a confused expression on his face as he looked around. He appeared not to be fully with it yet. Harry flinched as a roaring sound met his ears and Snape turned to the now-green flames in the fireplace. He stood up just in time to see Dumbledore step into his living space. Still holding Harry's wrist, Snape pulled him up into a standing position. Dumbledore's face hardened as he took in the wobbling of Harry's knees and the smeared blood that had dried under Snape's nose.
"Not killing each other already, are you?" Dumbledore asked, eyeing Snape crossly. Snape's mind raced for a believable lie but was interrupted as Harry stupidly opened his mouth to speak.
"Sir, I- I had…a vision. My scar hurt," Harry stammered out quickly. He didn't know why he was bothering to tell a lie, certainly Snape would take more heat for hitting him than the other way around, but Harry thought it was best for Dumbledore to not know they were violently fighting. Snape's hand around Harry's wrist tightened and then, as though he just realized it was still there, let go.
"Did you see anything Harry? Are you alright?" Snape scowled inwardly at the order and lack of concern Dumbledore showed in his phrasing. Though Snape knew Harry was lying, he felt his health should have been Dumbledore's first concern, the Dark Lord his second.
"He seemed excited about something, Voldemort. He was in a room, I didn't see anything specific. He was happy, I think there was someone he was talking to, I'm not sure. Then everything went black." Harry knew he sounded unconvincing, but his head was still a bit foggy and he couldn't think straight. Luckily, Snape decided to join in at that moment.
"Potter seized up just as we were leaving to go down to dinner. I tried to catch him before he hit the ground and his head hit mine, gave me this bloody nose. He just revived as you came through the fireplace." Dumbledore nodded at Snape's story and encouraged him to continue. "From what Potter has said, Sir, I have reason to believe the Dark Lord has learned of our joining and that he believes it to be in his favor."
Harry marveled inwardly at the quickness Snape was able to pick up his story and make it sounds plausible. He had no idea how Voldemort could logically know already that he had married Snape this morning, but why not? He had supporters everywhere, for all anyone knew the registrar could have been a Death Eater. Dumbledore couldn't prove otherwise. Harry nodded to show his agreement with Snape's testimony.
Dumbledore sighed. "Well I suppose I came at the right time then, to discuss this with you Harry. We need to start up your occumency lessons again. We cannot allow your connection to Lord Voldemort to continue. In addition, as I explained to you earlier, occlumency and legilemency will allow you and Snape to broaden the connection forged by the bonding. I think that this new connection could be key to us winning the war." Harry nodded. He had heard all of this before.
Dumbledore continued, "I want to create a schedule with you. We will continue the research we have already begun, of course, but I want to meet with you every third Thursday of the month for occulumency training. Once you have become proficient in occulumency we will move on to legilemency." Harry nodded again. At least this time he did not have to have additional lessons with Snape.
"What time would you like to meet, Sir?" Harry asked Dumbledore.
"I'll send a letter to you by owl the morning before the meeting with a time for you Harry. The times will change with my schedule and obligations as Headmaster and therefore unfortunately I am unable to determine a specific time far enough in advance to give to you. Even dedicating the third Thursday of each month is a bit of a stretch." Harry nodded again.
"Do you have any new leads, Sir, on the Hor-" Dumbledore interrupted him.
"We will discuss this later, Harry. For now I think it would be best if you and Snape go up to dinner. It has already started and would be a shame for you both to go hungry. I myself still have some business to attend to, but I should be up for some dessert. I believe the house-elves are preparing some lovely custard tarts tonight. I expect they will be delicious."
Snape wondered what it was Harry was about to say that Dumbledore had felt so necessary to interrupt. Was he, the spy risking so much of his life for this war, not trusted enough to be privy to an aspect of it? What did Harry know that Dumbledore wanted hidden from him? And why had he not been asked to help?
Harry watched as Dumbledore stepped back into the fireplace and whiled away in the smoke and flames. As soon as Dumbledore was out of sight Harry slumped back down onto the floor and put a hand over his eyes. His head hurt and he was pretty sure that if he looked in a mirror there would be purple and black bruises around his neck. At least he was breathing properly again.
"Get up, Potter. We are going to dinner." Snape said looking down at Harry. When Harry failed to respond Snape asked: "Did you hear me? I said we are-"
"I heard you." Harry interrupted. "Just give me a minute; I was just bloody unconscious if you weren't aware."
"You know Potter, when facing the Dark Lord you won't have a minute to catch your breath."
"Yeah well he isn't here right now, is he? So I'll take a rest while I have the chance and I'll go to dinner when I'm bloody ready to." Harry snapped, wondering why everything always had to be a fight with Snape, when two minutes ago they were on the same side of a lie.
"Always so disrespectful." Snape scowled.
"Disrespectful?" Harry snapped. "I have every right to be disrespectful! You just choked me until I passed out! I can't believe Dumbledore didn't say anything about the marks on my neck!" Harry tried to calm his breathing. He'd moved in hardly an hour ago and already his supposed husband was trying to kill him. If this was any indication of what the rest of the school year was going to be like, Voldemort better be dead by Christmas or Harry would lose his mind.
Harry took a deep breath and stood up again. Snape's arms were crossed and he didn't even try to help, not that Harry wanted him to. Harry turned away from him and opened the portrait, stepping out into the cold corridor beyond. He stood with his hands clenched tightly, then started up towards the Great Hall. He was hungry and depressed, and hoped dinner with his friends could put him in a cheerier mood, not that he expected it.
Snape waited a few minutes to be sure Harry wasn't about to return, then sat down at the table in his kitchenette. Swearing loudly to the empty room, he let his head fall into his arms and allowed himself a moments rest. Miserable as his life had been up to this point, he honestly hadn't thought it could get much worse. He had no expectations of living through the end of the war, and the prospect of spending the remaining months married to the Potter brat promised to be worse than any Hell imaginable.
Snape knew he had to get up and go to dinner soon- it would get back to Dumbledore if he missed it and Snape wasn't in the mood for an interrogation. He got up from the table reluctantly and walked over to the cabinet where he kept his best liquors. He shoved aside the scotch, the gin, and the brandy and took out a half empty bottle of firewhisky. He poured himself a shot; he didn't want to get wasted, just take the edge off. It burned the back of his throat going down. He coughed once and poured himself another.
--
Harry got into the Great Hall just as dinner began appearing on the tables. He looked down the Gryffindor table for Ron and Hermione and found them near the middle, sitting with Ginny and Neville. Neville scooted over so that Harry could sit between him and Ron. As soon as he was seated Ron turned to Harry and asked him how everything went. Harry glanced over at Hermione and Ginny who were staring on curiously.
"How what went, Harry?" Ginny asked him.
"Nothing," Harry said, not sure if he wanted them to know yet. He muttered to Ron "I'll tell you later," and gave him a significant look.
"Where'd you get those bruises, Harry?" Neville asked curiously.
"What bruises?" Hermione snapped to attention. "Harry, did he hurt you? Don't tell me you two are fighting already. Do you think you should tell Dumbledore?"
"No, Hermione I'm fine. It's nothing I can't handle. Besides, I punched him in the nose." At this Ron choked on his pumpkin juice and looked at Harry in awe. Ginny and Neville, both still unaware of who was being talked about, looked on in confusion. Hermione, conflicted with her anger at Harry for resorting to violence, pride at him for getting back at Snape, and desire to comfort him through this difficult time in his life, struggled to find something to say. Finally she settled on the easiest, an accusation.
"Harry! You can't hit a teacher!"
"You hit a teacher Harry?" Neville said in disbelief.
"Who was it?" Ginny asked anxiously as she peered around Hermione. Harry looked back and forth between them all. If he told them he'd have to explain about how Dumbledore married him off this morning, and he wasn't sure he could handle anyone else knowing yet. On the other hand Neville was sure to notice he moved out when he went up to the dorms for the evening, and besides they would continue to pester him until he told anyway.
Harry looked down at his still-empty plate. He reached towards the shepherds pie across from him and began piling it on, hoping the distraction would give him time to stall. Right before putting a huge spoonful of food into his mouth, Harry muttered under his breath "Snape."
It took a minute for Harry's answer to sink in for Ginny and Neville. Ron was snickering into his hand while Hermione continued looking conflicted as ever. Harry watched as Neville's face changed from horror, to incredulity, and back to horror.
"You, you hit Snape? Are you mad?" He asked Harry breathlessly.
"How'd you live to tell it?" Ginny asked, lifting in her seat to see around Hermione and Ron.
"Lived to tell what?" Harry turned as a dreamy voice reached his ears. Luna was holding her dinner plate, fork, and goblet. "Can I sit here? Jennifer McCormick keeps trying to give me a make over, and I have a feeling she doesn't quite want it to look good."
Ginny stood up to make room for Luna at the table. "That stupid bitch? Want me go over and-"
"No, I'm fine here." Luna put her dinnerware down on the table and sat. "So what did you live to tell, Harry? Did you meet a Snorkack perchance? I saw you leave earlier with Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore, what that what it was about?"
"No, Luna I did not meet a Snorkack. I went into Hogsmeade with Snape and Dumbledore to, well…" Harry stalled. They would find out eventually, Harry was sure. Snape would be required to tell Voldemort and as soon as he knew, well surely the Death Eaters with kids would tell them, and then it would be all over the school. "You know how the other day the ministry passed the Marriage Law?"
Ginny dropped her fork. "No. You didn't…"
"Yeah, I did." Harry looked down at his food. How could he possibly explain to them what his reasons were for marrying Snape? They weren't all that clear to him to begin with. Dumbledore thought it was the right decision, they were trying to protect him, and he was trying to protect everyone.
Ginny turned to look up at the Head Table where Snape had just sat down and started spooning some food rather reluctantly onto his plate. Neville and Luna's eyes followed and soon Harry, Ron, and Hermione were looking up at Snape, all with the same wonder and disbelief that anyone would ever marry him.
"He's a quite unpleasant man, isn't he?" Luna said, turning back to Harry.
"Did you really marry him, Harry?" Neville practically whispered.
"I can't believe you hit him, mate. I wish I'd seen it. This might even top the time Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret!" Everyone laughed, though it was brief and subdued.
"It was pretty funny, got him right in the nose. Bled all over the place." Harry joked.
"But still, Harry. I don't think it's appropriate for you two to be fighting like this. Are you sure you won't tell Dumbledore? I mean, he's twenty-something years older than you! That can't be a fair fight." Hermione said exasperatedly.
"Yeah but Hermione, Harry's got six years of quidditch training behind him, in a fair fight, fists only I'd place my money on Harry." Ron argued.
"Yeah but look at him! Will you at least see Madam Pomfrey? Those bruises on your neck look horrible!" Hermione worried.
"I'm fine, Hermione. Just leave me alone. I can take care of this on my own." Hermione sighed and decided to drop it, for now. Harry looked back up to the Head Table where he could see Snape looking down at him. Looking, not glaring. He looked away when Harry caught his eye. Harry turned back to his dinner and shoveled another forkful into his mouth.
--
Snape looked down at his food. His stupid arrogant brat of a husband and his little friends were staring at them. They were talking about him. Surely the know-it-all was telling Potter right this minute to run to Dumbledore and tell him about the domestic abuse he was obviously receiving. No one would care that Potter had hit him first, everything would be his fault. As per usual.
He pushed his food around on his plate. He despised shepherds pie, but was required to sit through meals with the school. When he returned to his quarters he would prepare himself a cheese and tomato sandwich with another whisky. Until then he fully planned to entertain himself by going over various plants and their properties in hopes of finding one he may have missed that would help with the new potion he was developing for his hair care line.
His hair care line was the one thing that got him through his days now. As the war efforts escalated on both sides and teaching became more and more unbearable his cosmetic potions were the only things left for him to look forward to. He wasn't even sure if that would be enough now, now that he had been forced into a marriage with the son of the one man he ever hated more than himself. Maybe he'd make himself a double shot of whisky when he got back…
Dumbledore was still absent from the Head Table. Snape wondered what was keeping him so long. Did it have something to do with what Potter had tried to discuss with them? What were they researching that he couldn't help with? Before he had been interrupted it had sounded like Potter was saying was 'Whore.' But that made little sense. Snape tried to think of words that began with a suffix 'whore' but couldn't think further than 'horrendous' and 'horticulture,' neither of which helped him much.
It infuriated Snape that he was being deliberately left out and uninformed about something that was probably crucial to winning the war. Did Dumbledore not trust him as fully as he claimed? Sure he could be trusted to sneak around in front of Voldemort's face, alternately gathering and planting information, constantly walking the thin line between spy and traitor, but trust him something real? Something crucial? Ask for Snape's help? Of course not. Why would anyone do that? He was disgusting filth. Dark, oily, and untrustworthy. Unlovable. Unredeemable. Good for a laugh or a task no one else would be willing to fill, but once he'd done his job he could be thrown back into the dungeons to rot for all anyone cared.
He refilled his goblet twice more and pushed his food into the shape of a mountain, then smashed it flat with his fork. He wasn't one for dinner conversation so for the most part he kept his eyes focused on his plate. He just barely noticed Dumbledore as he sat down partway through dessert. The old man had been right- the elves were serving custard tarts tonight. Snape hated custard tarts. He refrained from saying anything to Dumbledore and spent the remainder of the meal staring at the doors opposite the Head Table, willing every student to get up and leave immediately.
After five students had finished their dinner and left the Great Hall, Snape decided it would be appropriate for him to leave as well. He'd done his duty, he would now go back to his dungeons and make himself his sandwich and scotch. Though not exactly the best combination, the sandwich would sate his stomach while the scotch effectively helped him forget everything that had happened earlier today. Hopefully Potter would steer clear of the dungeons long enough for him to get himself good and drunk.