Summary: Harry and Severus hide out in Muggle London on Dumbledore's orders. They run into Harry's not-exactly-ex-boyfriend, who wants to propose to Harry. How will Harry get out of this mess? What does Severus have to say about all this?

A/N: In case you were wondering, Harry is seventeen in this story.

Congrats to England for getting the domestic partnership law passed!

Marriage

Chapter 5:

Severus sneered at the glaring yellow writing that spelled out 'Finney's Fish & Chips!' between two crudely drawn smiling fish.

"You would think that two fish would be less than thrilled by the prospect of being rolled in bread crumbles, then plunged to their death by means of boiling water," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"You would say something like that," muttered Harry, rolling his eyes.

Severus glared at the boy, then smirked. "And as my lover, you would respond appropriately. Go ahead. Laugh at my wit."

Harry stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide. "What was that?"

Severus raised a corner of his mouth and said, "Maybe I will enjoy this. After all, when will a better opportunity to torture the Golden Boy come my way?"

"Oh, piss off," said Harry, entering the door of the tiny restaurant, tugging Severus after him. "And by the way, they're already dead before they get fried."

Severus raised an eyebrow and allowed himself to be led through the door.

"Harry," said Malcolm rather breathlessly. "I'm so glad you came. Here, let me take your coat."

Severus couldn't help but smirk at Harry's queasy expression as he was manhandled out of his jacket.

"Thanks, Malcolm, but I can do it," said Harry, waving Malcolm's hands off of his shirt, which was now in need of straightening after being so roughly disturbed.

"Perhaps I shall assist you," said Severus imperiously, stepping forward; it was time to put the boy's ridiculous plan into action.

Harry glared at him and said with gritted teeth, "Yes, perhaps you shall."

Severus moved toward him and gently tugged on the bottom of Harry's shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, then brushed off imaginary dust from the smaller man's shoulders before pushing a lock of away from Harry's face.

Harry stood still during the entire process and didn't move until Malcolm coughed and guided Harry by the elbow into a booth. Before the young man could slide in next to Harry, Severus side-stepped Malcolm and easily took his place, leaving Malcolm to sulk momentarily, then plunk down across from the pair.

"What would like to eat, Harry?" asked Malcolm, placing the laminated menu in front of the other man's face.

"Perhaps he would like fish and chips, as that is the only option this establishment seems to offer," said Severus, looking down at Malcolm over his nose, somehow managing to insult Malcolm even though it was Harry who had chosen the small eatery.

Malcolm snapped back as though he'd been spit on, which was the desired effect, and Severus curled his lip. Then, with a possessive air, he slipped an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry immediately stiffened. Severus inwardly growled and bent his head so that his lips were just barely brushing against what Severus grudgingly admitted was a perfect sea-shell ear and whispered, "If you want your plan to work, I suggest acting as though you are somewhat enjoying my presence." Harry shivered. "Now, act as though I have just said something soddingly romantic or remarkably obscene, whichever you prefer, you little twat." Severus concluded his command with a barely-there peck to the lobe of Harry's ear. He drew back and concluded that Harry was indeed an exceptional actor, because the boy's blush could rival the ketchup bottle that was arranged among the half-filled tarter sauce bottles, and a silly grin had taken up residence on his face.

Harry could barely breathe. When he had felt Snape's arm around the back of his neck, he had reflexively flinched and tensed; after all, how often does your most-hated professor sling an arm around you? But then, when Snape's dark, rich whisper assaulted his ear, he had suddenly felt like an asthmatic. There was no air, his lungs had stopped functioning, and surely he would pass out from it all, right here, in Finney's Fish and Chips. It got much worse as soon as Snape hissed out the word 'obscene' because an electric current had sparked through his thighs so fast it hurt. He could just hear Snape call him a twat, which crazily sounded almost affectionate, when his world exploded behind his eyes – he probably should have mentioned that his ears were extremely ticklish…

"So!"

Harry jerked his head up to see an apoplectic Malcolm. Oh, he'd forgotten he was there…

"So!" Malcolm repeated, tapping his menu against the table and biting his lower lip white.

"Yes, we heard you, Mr. Dower," said Snape along with a sneer, long fingers beginning to pet Harry's shoulder.

"So what will you have, Harry!" Malcolm practically shouted, with a look of determination etched firmly across his features as he bent to peruse his menu.

"Oh…," said Harry vaguely; the fingers now caressing the side of his neck were extremely distracting. "Er…I thought I might have….erm…,"

"Perhaps we should share an order, love," said Snape, picking up Harry's menu and glancing at it.

"No, don't say that!" said Malcolm, brandishing his menu at Snape. "Harry hates it when guys call him 'love', don't you Harry?"

Harry had just been thinking that it didn't sound so bad when Snape said the 'l' word, and he said rather stupidly, "Oh, well…I don't really mind it, I suppose."

"But you hated it!" said Malcolm, leaning across the table, eyes wide as though he were trying to hypnotize Harry into agreeing with him.

"Perhaps he only hated it because the wrong person was addressing him as such," said Snape, chin raised and lip curled. Harry cringed as he saw Malcolm's eyes go wide and mouth gape. He could only guess what Snape's face must have looked like to cause that.

"I have to use the loo!" Malcolm declared, standing up so fast that he jostled the table. Then, he bolted, leaving Harry to stare after him in shock. Snape immediately pulled his arm away from Harry and he wiped his hand on his napkin, a look of distaste on his face. An awful chill run through Harry's body, and he glared as he asked, "If it was so awful to touch me, then why did you?"

Snape sneered down at him. "I am merely performing this charade because you requested it, although why I agreed to go along, I have no idea."

"Well why don't you figure it out," Harry hissed through gritted teeth. "And stop starting every sentence with 'perhaps'! It's getting old. Like you." As soon as Harry said it, he bit his cheek, feeling as though he had overstepped the bounds, and he glared at his menu, angry with himself for even caring if he had.

"Touché, Potter," said Snape, refolding his napkin and placing it on the table. There was a heavy silence, and Harry wasn't sure who he was angrier at, Malcolm, Snape, or himself.

"I thought you agreed to go along with it because you wanted a chance to torture me," Harry snapped suddenly.

"Oh, yes," said Snape, sounding decidedly disinterested.

"What, forgot did you?" asked Harry tartly. "Must be all those potion fumes." Harry suddenly felt emboldened – it was Snape who he was angry at. Yes, Snape, for being such an utter bastard. "Or maybe I was right before. Short-term memory…you are getting old, after all."

Snape took a sip of Coke from his plastic cup and smacked his lips at the unfamiliar fizzy sensation before saying, "Re-using material is never wise, Potter."

"What?" exclaimed Harry furiously. "You re-use insults all the time! Always going on about my parents, my fame, saying I strut, the same cock-and-bull insults every time!"

Snape placed his cup on the table a little too firmly to be considered unaffected. "That is simply because none of it seemed to get through your thick skull. I see that I was wrong."

"Yeah, wouldn't be the first time," Harry snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. He huffed out an angry breath and waited for Snape to respond, but he didn't, leaving Harry to slouch down and stew in his own head.

A minute later, Snape cleared his throat. "That boy has been in there for several minutes. Is it safe to assume that we can leave this dump?"

Harry bristled. This 'dump' happened to be one of his favorite places. "If we leave now, he'll want to meet up again," said Harry shortly. "We have to make sure he's completely put off."

"Then I suggest I go in to see if he hasn't drowned himself in there."

"You do that," said Harry.

Snape glared at him, then stood up and strode towards the door marked, 'Mates'. Harry's lips couldn't help but twist into a pout, and he harshly bit his bottom lip to stem it.

The suggestion to check up on the boy wasn't so much made out of concern for Malcolm. Severus had really just wanted to get away from that brat of a child whom everyone called a hero. Severus took a deep calming breath once he was behind the closed door, then walked towards the mirror over the sinks. He stared at his glowering reflection and peered at his face – not that he was checking for wrinkles; appearances didn't matter, and Potter did not affect him in any way...was that rivet between his eyebrows always there?

Severus was so busy studying his reflection that he didn't notice one of the stall doors slowly open.

"What are you doing in here?"

Severus swerved around at the sound of the bitter, icy voice. "Mr. Dower," he said, smoothly regaining his composure. "I was checking to see if you would be rejoining us – Harry was worried–"

"Bullshit," spat Malcolm, charging towards the sinks and jerking the faucet. Severus quickly stood back and allowed the young man room as he splashed his splotchy face. It was extremely disconcerting to see how the annoying-fly-like Malcolm had somehow increased in size just by being angry. Was this what Harry had meant when he had described Malcolm as 'scary'?

"I take it you won't be rejoining us–"

Malcolm let out a derisive laugh. "I think I'd vomit if I had to watch you two again. It's really sickening."

Even though Severus had said practically the same thing to Harry earlier in fewer words, he couldn't help but feel offended, and he sneered, saying, "And when you and Harry did the same thing, it wasn't?"

Malcolm let out that ugly laugh, and looked at Severus through slanted eyes as though he was above him. Severus felt a muscle in his jaw twitch, and he stood at his full height, furious that this impudent boy thought he was somehow intimidating him.

"Let's just say, no one likes watching pedophilia," said Malcolm, face twisting with mockery and revulsion.

Severus reeled back in shock, then his face slowly contorted and he leaned forward until Malcolm was shrinking back, apprehension covering his face. "What did you say to me, muggle?" Severus asked in his silkiest hiss.

Malcolm stared, confusion replacing fright. "Huh?"

Severus blinked, and he stepped back. His guard had fallen; it was time to go. "Mr. Dower," he said in his dark imperious way. "This meeting is officially over. Do not contact Mr. Potter again."

Malcolm sputtered. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Oh, can't I?" asked Severus, leaning forward again.

"Are you threatening me?" Malcolm shouted back.

"Perhaps," said Severus. He threw Malcolm the look that he reserved for weaklings like Neville Longbottom, then turned on his heel and strode through the door.

"Potter," he barked upon reaching their table. Harry sat up and stared at him, eyes wide at the stormy look on his professor's face.

"We're leaving."

TBC