Beta'd by Rakina
I'm sorry about this chapter. Someone pointed out the missing one in between and my mind boggles at my own stupidity. The real fifteen is up, and this is the real sixteen. So...yeah. If you've read this chapter already, go back one chapter because that one will be new to you.
Chapter Sixteen
"You've lost your mind," Snape told Harry, aghast. "Do you even know what it is you're suggesting?"
"Why are you so upset about it?" Harry returned.
"Why? Why?" Snape repeated, almost shouting. "Because I'll be the one stuck cleaning up whatever mess you make!"
Harry scowled. "How do you know I'm going to make a mess? I might be good at it!"
"You want to take on the Ministry, Potter, of course you're going to make a mess of it!"
"Thanks for the support!" Harry made towards the door. "I'll show myself out."
"Get back here!" Snape yelled. "You can't just tell me you're considering pushing your right to be King and walk away!"
"If you're going to yell, what's the point of staying?" Harry shouted back at him.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just sit," he ordered, causing Harry to glare. "Please," he added irritably.
Harry did, with a scowl. "Well?"
Snape went to his writing desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a large stack of envelopes bundled together and dropped them on Harry's lap. "This doesn't include the Howlers of course."
Harry looked down at the sizable pile of letters and then back up at Snape. "You've been intercepting my mail?"
"Yes. Go ahead and read them," Snape said, sitting down and watching Harry warily. He was expecting the inevitable explosion, but if the boy was going to be daft enough to carry through with his little plan, he needed to know what he was getting into.
Harry pulled off the string and picked up the first opened letter. He unfolded it, casting a quick glance at Snape before reading.
Dear Mr. Potter,
As a concerned parent, I must protest this strange and unwelcome change. It is nothing short of a relief that you have decided to turn down your title. It was the right thing for this country. However my concerns still stand thus: how dare you assume you can just take power? A mere child such as yourself! You must understand, Mr. Potter, that so soon after the latest problem with our world, hearing that the defeater of a Dark Wizard wishes to gain power is disconcerting.
I thank you for not disrupting our lives more than you already have.
He glanced up at Snape, frowning. "Keep reading," Snape said, waving toward the pile.
Harry opened the next letter. It didn't even bother with a greeting.
We don't need a king! How's that any better than He Who Must Not Be Named? Savior or not, I'd rather see you dead then as king!
He set that one aside and picked up the next one.
Potter,
Just who do you think you are? There are far better people in our world than you that deserve to be in power. You claim you don't want your rightful place. We'll see how long that lasts.
He tossed it aside and looked at Snape. "Are they all like this?"
"Those are just the ones who aren't asking you to bless their children, or give them money," Snape answered, watching as Harry opened the next one.
Potter,
The day you become King will be your last day on Earth. Think about that before you try overthrowing the Ministry.
Harry crumpled that one and tossed it into the flames of Snape's fire. "How many of these do you suppose the minister himself ordered to be sent?"
Snape shrugged. "Impossible to say, but I'm sure he's responsible for some of them."
"I'm more worried about the ones who don't mention the ministry directly," Harry admitted as he read a few more, some hitting him harder than others.
"They're all along the same theme, there's no point in reading the rest," Snape warned.
Harry sighed, tossing the lot of them on the table. "Did anyone have anything good to say?"
"That would be the ones kissing up to you, hoping for favors," Snape answered, snorting.
"Favors," Harry repeated dully. "Have you intercepted every piece of mail I've received this year?"
"Yes," Snape admitted, meeting Harry's gaze head on. "Anything that wasn't related to the King business, I sent on. There weren't many."
"I never get much mail," Harry told him distractedly as he took to crumpling all the missives he'd read and chucking them into the flames.
"I saw no reason for you to read them," Snape continued, studying Harry. "They would only be a distraction in an already nightmarish year."
"It hasn't been all bad," Harry mumbled, getting off the couch to pick up the poker next to the fire. He swirled the letters through the flames, causing them to grow brighter.
"Honestly, I was expecting more yelling," Snape said, still expecting a lecture on invading Harry's privacy.
Harry sat down before the fire and leaned back on his palms. "It's no fun when you're expecting it."
"Still want to take on the Ministry?" Snape asked tiredly.
"If I did would you help?"
Snape sighed, rubbing his face. "If that is your choice, then yes, but it wouldn't be because I wanted to. I think it's a colossally bad idea."
"You thought it was from the beginning," Harry pointed out, tilting his head back so he could see him.
"Do you really want to be King? If you thought your life was public before, it's nothing compared to what it will be should you choose to be the official Monarch."
"No, I don't." Harry stared back into the fire. "I've thought about it off and on, what I could change, but it's not worth it."
Snape's body relaxed, relief flooding through him. He could only begin to imagine what kind of chaos would happen were Harry to decide to force his claim. Not only would the Wizarding world be divided, again, but he'd have to worry about keeping Harry not only safe, but alive.
"Thank you," Snape murmured, unsure if he was talking to Harry or some unknown deity.
Harry inclined his head. He raised a hand to his face and rubbed out the exhaustion. "How long until the papers find out the connection between our families?"
"Soon," Snape answered. "If you'd like to take the offensive, you can make the announcement yourself. Then you control the initial spin it's bound to take in the papers."
"I can't see how announcing it myself will help."
"Because you're announcing it on your own terms. You aren't being 'outed', as it were," Snape said. "If the papers release the information before you, they'll assume you are ashamed to have your name linked to mine." He'd wondered more than once if that were true.
Harry sighed. "I think I need to take a walk down to the castle gates then."
"Would you like me to accompany you?"
"Yeah."
"What are you going to say?" Snape asked curiously.
Harry shook his head and shifted on the floor until he was facing Snape. "I have no idea."
"That could be problematic."
"Probably," Harry agreed. "Yeah."
"We'll prepare a statement. Do you wish to answer questions?"
"No," Harry said quickly. "Can you write the statement?"
Snape snorted, but went to his writing desk and began to write a statement for Harry to read to the press.
"I feel guilty," Harry announced into the room, quiet save for the scratching of Snape's quill.
"For?" Snape asked, not looking up.
"Well, every time I've made an official statement it's been you who's written it. Doesn't seem fair."
"I don't mind," Snape told him, studying what he had written so far. "Traditionally, it's the Steward's job, so it's not as if it's out of the ordinary." He handed the parchment to Harry. "Is there anything you want to change?"
Harry read it over quickly and shook his head. It listed everything the press needed to know, from the original vow to a sketched version of what was to come at Christmas, and in the politest words told everyone to bugger off and leave him alone about it.
"Will it suffice?" Snape asked, unable to read Harry's expression.
"It's fine really," Harry said, handing it back. "I just wish it'd work."
"It's better than letting them make up their own version. Shall we get it over with?" Snape asked, holding out his hand to pull Harry up.
Harry clasped the hand and got to his feet. "Yes, lets."
When they returned to Snape's quarters an hour later, Harry had gone right past irritated and straight to pissed off. For his part, Snape had been silent, but Harry could see how tightly his jaw was clenched, and both of his eyes were twitching like mad.
"I am not reading the article when it shows up in the Prophet," Harry declared through clenched teeth as he sat down hard on Snape's sofa.
Snape went straight to his sideboard. He reached for the Scotch, then changed his mind, grabbing the bottle of Ogden's. He poured himself a large shot of whisky, and poured half that amount in another glass for Harry.
Wordlessly, he thrust the glass at Harry and sat next to him on the couch. Snape forced himself to sip the whisky, despite the fact he wanted to toss it back and drink another glass or three.
"Vultures, the whole lot of them," Harry mumbled, hands trembling as he tried to keep his glass still.
"I didn't expect things to go quite so pear-shaped," Snape admitted, taking another sip of the whisky. "I apologize."
"Not your fault they want a piece of my soul all to themselves."
"No, but I should have expected it," Snape answered, sighing. Also, he should have warned Albus before they made their appearance to the press. He was sure he was going to get an earful about that as well.
"I just want this to end," Harry groaned, finally raising his glass to his lips.
Snape snorted. "It could be worse."
"How?"
"You could be trying to take over the Ministry," Snape said, sipping his whisky.
Harry choked on his drink. "Bastard."
Snape leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Indeed."
Harry went about the next day as cheerfully as possible. The Daily Prophet hadn't failed to deliver and when he had entered the Great Hall for dinner that night you could hear food digesting in everyone's stomachs.
Harry could feel the eyes of everyone in the Great Hall going between him and Snape, waiting to see who would react first. Harry ignored them all, taking his usual seat at the Gryffindor table and reaching for the boiled potatoes.
"How's the chicken?" he asked Ron, who seemed to relax at the casual words.
"Great," Ron answered, tearing another bite from the leg of the chicken.
Slowly the whispers began, and they swelled into normal conversation, no doubt about Harry and Snape, but at least it wasn't silence.
"You'd think people would have nothing better to talk about," Hermione huffed, swiping a roll out of the basket before her. She glared down the table at a huddled mass of fifth years whispering heatedly to one another. When they saw her glare they flushed furiously, broke apart and began eating with hurried bites. "Oh, honestly."
"Don't get too wound up about it, Hermione," Harry said, picking at his vegetables. "They'll say whatever they want."
Hermione eyed him speculatively. "You're taking this awfully well, Harry. People have been talking about it all day."
"Yeah, but their whispers are nothing compared to dealing with the press yesterday."
"You usually can't stand either," Hermione pointed out.
Harry had to fight the urge to slam his glass down on the table. "Yes, Hermione, I hate both, can we just accept the fact that I'm handling it as best I can and leave it the fuck alone?" Harry hissed.
Hermione's eyebrows shot up, but she thankfully remained silent. Harry swore in his head and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Hermione."
"It's alright," Hermione said stiffly, pushing her peas around her plate.
Harry looked helplessly at Ron, but Ron was looking decidedly icy. "I'm sorry," Harry repeated.
"Look, mate," Ron began, but Hermione held up her hand.
"No Ron, it's alright, honestly," Hermione said, though her smile was a bit forced. "Stop being a prat, Harry," she said, taking a bite of potatoes. "We're not your enemies."
"I know, I'm sorry. It's been a really long day," Harry said, running his hands through his hair.
"I can imagine," she replied in clipped tones, "But we don't know because you wouldn't even talk to us."
"I told you, it was a spur of the moment decision," Harry whispered. "If we had planned it, I would have told you first, but we didn't."
"Not that," she said waspishly, "Today, you've ignored all of us, even Malfoy looked concerned."
"I'm just trying to get through the day without hexing anyone, or letting them know that they are all getting under my skin," Harry whispered angrily. "If I show weakness now, the rest of the year is going to be absolute hell."
"If you continue to leave us all in the dark, we can make it especially hellish," Hermione snapped. "We're your friends, and we didn't even know quite how connected you were with Snape. We had to find out through the news."
"Hermione, I'm begging you," Harry pleaded. "Can we just get through dinner, then we can discuss this. In private," he emphasized.
"When would we find the time in your busy schedule? Tomorrow? Next week perhaps? No, Harry, we want the truth from you, now."
"Ten minutes, Hermione. Give me ten minutes to get through dinner, then you can have all the time you want to discuss it, alright?"
"Let him eat, Hermione," Ron said wearily.
Harry looked gratefully at Ron, but Ron didn't return his smile. Harry focused on his food, eating mechanically but not tasting a thing. All too soon, Hermione stood. "Time's up, Harry. I'll be in the library. Please don't keep me waiting."
Hermione walked away, leaving Ron and Harry to stare after her.
"She's right pissed off," Ron warned him. "Not that I'm very happy with you right now either." Ron looked mournfully at the peach cobbler on the table. "And I have to miss out on that," he grumbled, getting to his feet.
Harry stared down at his plate; a tremor tingled in his throat and made his eyes burn. He stole a glance up at the High Table and couldn't seem to find a friendly face among the lot of them. With his heart in his throat and his stomach churning, he stood up and followed after his friends, leaving a trail of whispered rumors in his wake.
He caught up with Ron and they made their way to the library in silence. They found Hermione waiting in a cubicle near the back. When Ron and Harry joined her, she cast a silencing charm around them and waited for Harry to speak.
"I was going to tell you," Harry started but Hermione cut him off. "But you didn't, and there's no changing that. Now we want to know what's really going on."
Harry told them everything. About the vow, about the bonding and the sexual aspect of it all. Ron cringed at that bit, but Harry assured him he was rather looking forward to it, which just made Ron pale.
"Well?" he asked, once he'd finished speaking.
"Why didn't you tell us sooner?" Hermione asked, but the anger was gone from her voice. It was replaced by curiosity and a kind of sadness that pierced Harry more than her anger ever could.
"I don't know," Harry said, scrubbing his face. "You know Snape, he's private and this has as much to do with him as it does with me. I couldn't violate what little trust he has in me, even to my best friends, and I'm sorry."
"We wouldn't have told anyone," Ron said, frowning. "You could have trusted us."
"That's not what he meant, Ron," Hermione said, sighing. "He was protecting Professor Snape."
"From us," Ron stressed.
"I really am sorry," Harry repeated for the fourth time.
"How does Professor Snape feel about it? The bond and the ritual?"
Harry was glad Hermione called it 'the ritual' and not 'the shagging'.
"Resigned, I suppose. He's not fighting me on it anyway, but honestly, I've never really asked him." All the time they'd spent together, all the times Harry had bitched and moaned and he couldn't remember ever asking Snape how he felt about it all. And even if he had, he doubted he'd really hear the answers. He hadn't cared then, but he found himself caring now.
"You've never asked him?" Hermione said in surprise.
"I never thought to."
Hermione shook her head. "Go and see him tonight and ask then. I know you're a boy and emotionally challenged, but you can't just go into this without finding out!"
Harry scowled at her, but nodded. "Have I explained things enough that I won't get yelled at during breakfast tomorrow?" he asked irritably.
"Yes, just go," Hermione said, making a shooing motion.
"Come Harry. Go Harry. Eat your dinner, Harry," Harry teased in a mocking tone, which earned him a glare. "I'm going, I'm going!"
"Good." She pulled a book from her bag, and Harry knew he'd lost her, so it startled him when she called out as he made to leave: "And Harry?"
He looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Good luck."
Ron smirked and nodded in agreement. "You'll need it, mate."
Harry smiled and made his way to the dungeons, ignoring the whispers as he passed. The whispers that grew louder when it became apparent he was heading to the dungeons. Sighing, he went to Snape's door and knocked, glaring at a fourth year Slytherin who had followed him down the corridor and was watching to see Snape's reaction.
Snape opened the door and Harry nodded in the direction of the fourth year. Snape's lip curled and his scowl deepened. "I suggest you return to your common room if you don't want detention, Mister Phillips," Snape ground out.
The fourth year ran like he was being chased by a hippogriff.
"I didn't know that worked on the Slytherins as well," Harry joked once he'd entered Snape's quarters.
"I've given more detentions to members of my house in the last twelve hours than I have in the previous twelve years," he said irritably. "What do you want, Potter?" he asked tiredly.
Harry shifted nervously. "Actually, I wanted to make sure you were doing okay."
Snape's head tilted to the side as he studied Harry, his brows furrowed in thought. "You're inquiring about my state of being?"
"Yes, actually." Right, he was a heel, a big ugly scabby heel. Why hadn't this occurred to him before?
"I'm fine, I suppose," Snape answered, still unsure if Harry wanted a truthful answer, or an answer that he could catalog and put away easily.
"Suppose?" Harry repeated warily. "What does that mean?"
Alright then, if Potter wanted to know, Snape would tell him. "I'm exhausted, irritable, tired of blowing up Howlers and the increase in death threats is becoming tiresome. My students don't know what to make of me, and I find I care less and less about that. I'm angry, I'm randy, and Christmas can't come soon enough."
Snape waited, curious as to how Harry would respond to all of that.
Harry blinked and lowered himself onto the sofa. "Oh."
Snape chuckled and sat down next to him. "A little more information that you had planned on?" he asked, amused.
"No," Harry said immediately and then flushed. "Yeah, just a little."
"I did it on purpose, I admit it," Snape said, a small smile on his face.
"I really do want to know though," Harry said, pulling up his leg and shifting on the couch to face Snape. "I've never really asked how you felt about this mess. The things you're being forced to do. I just...how are you?"
Snape stayed silent for a moment and Harry wondered if he'd blundered into something he really didn't want to know.
"As I said before, Potter. I am tired."
"Is there anything I can do? To make it easier, I mean," Harry asked, looking sheepish. He had a feeling Hermione was going to tell him he had really messed this up.
No, scratch that, he knew Hermione was going to tell him he had really messed up, if Snape didn't say it first.
"I must confess, I'm confused by your sudden bout of caring," Snape said, studying him through narrowed eyes. "Might I ask who, or what, brought this on?"
"Hermione," Harry admitted with a small shrug. "But really myself."
"Explain?"
"You weren't at dinner, but I had a bit of a row with Ron and Hermione that got me thinking about a few things."
"Thinking, that's new," Snape said teasingly.
"Apparently."
"And what conclusions did you come to?"
"What?"
"You said your row made you think about things. What things are you referring to?"
"That," Harry said, sighing. How was he going to say this without sounding like a prat? Although, he reckoned he would be more of a prat for not saying it. "I've been selfish, and stupid. Really spectacularly stupid, actually."
Snape frowned. "No more than usual," he said, not meaning it as an insult, just a statement of truth.
"That's encouraging," Harry said dryly. He ran a hand down his face.
"So let me see if I understand. You've come to the conclusion that you've been selfish, and now you're concerned with my wellbeing?"
"Well, when you put it that way...I can go back to not caring if it makes you feel better."
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Snape said, sighing. "It's nice...good that you care. I'm just not accustomed to anyone...caring."
Harry got the horrible sense that Snape wasn't lying about that either. "Good, because I don't think I can go back to not caring anyhow."
Snape was still feeling mildly stunned. He had resigned himself to Harry needing him, relying on him, but hadn't expected much in return. "That's good," he said, a small smile on his face. "Surprising, but good."
"Shouldn't have to be surprising," Harry muttered, guilt creeping through his gut. "It should have been known."
"So what did you argue about with your friends?" Snape asked, sensing it was time to change the subject.
Harry glanced up at Snape. "The news article."
"I take it they didn't know the full details of your obligations?"
"No," Harry shook his head miserably. "I just never found the time to tell them. If I was ever going to."
"Well, Potter, that is the benefit of having real friends. They forgive you, when others would not," Snape pointed out. "Whatever else I feel about them, I cannot deny that they are loyal to you, and I doubt there is anything you can do to make them turn their backs on you."
"Except ignore them, that seemed to work."
"They'll come around, they always do," Snape assured him.
Harry leaned against Snape, resting his head on his shoulder. "Yeah, I suppose. I'm just so tired of all of it, you know?"
Snape's hand rose to rest at the base of Harry's neck. "Yes, I know."
"Can I stay here tonight?" Harry asked softly.
"You may."
Harry startled and looked up at Snape in surprise. "Seriously?"
"You can sleep on the couch or with me in the bed. I assure you I'm too tired to molest you in any way, shape or form."
Harry swallowed. "Do you have a preference?"
"Bed."
"Really?"
"Am I stuttering?" Snape asked, teasingly. "Yes, really, but you are of course welcome to sleep where you wish."
"Give me a second," Harry said, holding up a hand, missing the feeling of Snape's hand when it slipped from his neck.
Snape watched him curiously.
Harry exhaled sharply. "You're sure?"
"Yes, or I wouldn't have said it," Snape said, frowning.
Harry grinned shyly. "All right then."
"You'll probably drown in them, but you can wear a pair of my pajamas if you'd rather not get your things," Snape told him, rising to his feet. The moment he said it, he realized he wanted to see Harry wearing his night clothes. His cock gave an interested twitch, but he forced the thought away.
"You wouldn't mind?" Harry asked, tension draining from his shoulders.
"If you come to my bed wearing nothing, I might find the energy I'm currently lacking," Snape said, snorting and walking toward the bedroom.
Harry's eyebrows arched in shock and he jumped up off the couch to follow Snape into the bedroom.
Snape went to his dresser and pulled out a faded pair of cotton pajamas. "You'll have to forgive the quality, I've never bothered much about sleep wear," he said, handing them to Harry and pulling out another pair from the drawer.
Harry took them and clutched them to his chest; he tried to ignore the pine scent they gave off from being in the wardrobe. "You haven't?"
"Usually just a nightshirt," he admitted. "You can change in there," he added, nodding toward the bathroom. "After the last time you stayed, I had the House Elves provide another toothbrush as well. It's the blue one on the shelf."
Harry nodded and went into the bathroom.
Snape waited until the door closed before removing his own clothing and sliding on the pajamas. He hung up his robes and put the rest of his clothes in the linen basket , then went about turning down all the lights in the other rooms.