Rating: M
Warnings: Slash, swearing, infidelity, ignores epilogue, probably a bit OOC
Pairings: SS/HP and HP/GW
Genres: Romance, Drama, Angst
Summary: Harry's engaged to Ginny, but then along comes Severus Snape. SLASH, SS/HP, POST DH
Chapter Seventeen: A Plan of Action
"Do you think we should invite Kingsley? I know he's a dear friend but he's also the Minister. I don't want to over-advertise the place. Harry, dear, what do you think? Should we invite Kingsley to the opening?"
Harry dropped the pine chair he was levitating behind the table in the far corner and turned to look at Molly. She was sat at a small square table by one of the large bay windows; a stack of envelopes and invitations sat in front of her to her right, a list of names and a bottle of blue ink to her left.
Harry shrugged. "Kingsley enjoys your food," he said. "I'm sure he'd love to come."
"He's right, Mum," said Ron, taking a step back from the picture he'd been hanging. "You, him, and Dad are good friends, thanks to all that stuff you did together in the Order."
"Yes," she worried, "but I don't want to seem like I'm taking advantage of his position as Minister for Magic."
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who grinned.
"Mum, seriously, just send him a bloody invitation. He'll probably be offended if you don't."
"I suppose you have a point," she said with a frown. Then, quite suddenly, her face turned hard. "And don't you use that language in front of me, young man! You're never too old to receive a telling-off from your mother."
Ron gulped and Harry chuckled, glad to see that Mrs. Weasley could still fill her youngest son with such dread. He turned back to his job of levitating furniture.
The grand opening of Molly and Andromeda's café - not forgetting Headquarters for their already flourishing catering business - was only two weeks away. Family and friends had all pitched in to lend a hand with the decorating and furnishing of the acquired premises in Diagon Alley. Whilst Harry was busy setting up the tables and chairs, Ron was occupied with putting all the pictures and portraits up onto the walls, a step up from the wallpapering he'd been doing a couple of hours ago, which had been a very messy, very sticky, job even with magic. Ginny and Hermione were in the kitchen setting up all the work surfaces, and George and Angelina were in the stockroom doing a stock-take of all the plates and bowls, knives and forks, and so on, though Harry rather suspected they were doing a lot more than just inventory.
Harry set the chair down at the other end of the far table and looked about the room. It was a cosy looking place, he thought, not too modern, but not so overcrowded that it looked like Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade, either.
The light oak floorboards went really well with the white scrubbed tables and chairs, and the checkered tablecloths (in assorted colours - red-white, blue-white, and green-white) gave the place a homely atmosphere, along with the differently patterned cushions tied to each chair. The walls were full of paintings and photographs of some of the most scenic places in Britain, and a black chalkboard hung on the wall above the counter, which would be used to display the day's specials when the café opened. The counter itself had a large, glass cabinet which would be full of fresh sandwiches, and the cabinet in the corner of the shop would be used for cakes.
The kitchen was at the back of the building and Harry thought it looked very much like the Weasley's kitchen back at The Burrow, but tidier and with more storage space. There was also the stockroom, where all the tablecloths and cutlery and things were stored, and a customer toilet. The Headquarters for the catering business were upstairs but Harry hadn't seen there yet.
Overall, the place looked extremely tidy and, apart from one or two details, ready for business. He hoped it would do well; Molly and Andromeda had put so much time and effort into getting this started and it would be such a shame if things didn't go as planned. Just because their catering company had been such a success didn't mean the café would as well, but he was sure that once word got around of how good the food was, people would be queuing up outside for a taste.
Smiling, Harry pointed his wand at the next chair stacked against the wall and began levitating it across the room.
"Do you want me to stick this in the window, Mum?"
Harry looked over to see what Ron was talking about. His friend was holding up a large square menu, the one that would be placed on display so passersby could see what food and drink the café had to offer.
"Yes please, Ron," Molly smiled. "There's also one of those that needs going on the wall by the counter, if you would."
"Sure thing," he said, and he pulled his wand out of his pocket to perform a sticking charm. Just as he was about to cast it, though, George came into the room.
"Whoa there, little bro," he said, hurrying across the room and grabbing Ron's wrist. "You don't want to be hanging that in the window yet, Mum," he said over his shoulder.
"I don't see why not," she said, frowning. "How else will people know what we serve?"
"Do you want the competition stealing your ideas before you've even opened?"
Molly tutted. "Oh, don't be silly, George," she said, waving a hand. "They wouldn't do that."
ButGeorge shook his head. "You have far too much faith in people, Mum." He pulled the menu from Ron's hand and replaced it with a stack of fliers. "Here," he said. "Make yourself useful."
"And just what am I supposed to do with these?" Ron asked, waving them about.
"What else? Hand them out." George ruffled Ron's hair, who ducked away from his brother, annoyed.
"I'm not handing out all these! There's hundreds of 'em!"
"Well, the place isn't going to advertise itself, is it? I've been handing them to all the customers in the joke shop for the past week. It's your turn."
If Molly hadn't been in the room Harry was pretty sure he and George would have been treated to a string of swear words. Mindful of his mother's presence, however, Ron settled for looking disgruntled and grumbling under his breath.
"You coming, Harry?" he asked, stomping towards the door.
Harry really didn't want to, but… "Yeah," he said. "Just let me finish this. I'll catch you up in a bit."
The bell over the door rang, indicating Ron's exit, and George chuckled.
"So easy," he said with a grin. He turned to Molly. "We've finished the inventory," he said. "Everything's accounted for. Now what?"
"Oh, well, let me see…" She consulted a list. "There's not a lot left to do now, love. You can start sending all these invitations out, if you want? That would be a big help."
"Sure," he smiled. He grabbed a handful of the addressed envelopes. "I'll ask Ginny and Hermione if I can borrow their owls." And he left the room.
Harry cast a silent charm to levitate the last of the chairs. He took his time guiding it across the room - maybe if he stalled long enough the world would take pity on him and a comet would hit Diagon Alley, preventing him from going out on the street and handing out fliers with Ron.
"Now then," Molly muttered to herself, shuffling a few pieces of parchment around her table. "Just a few more left. Minerva…no, no, I've already done hers. Ah, yes, of course. Harry, dear? Do you think Severus would come?"
The chair he'd been levitating crashed to the floor. He felt his cheeks burn as he redirected his wand.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "I wasn't concentrating. What were you saying?"
Molly frowned, but didn't comment.
"I was wondering whether Severus would like an invite. I don't want to exclude him."
Harry shrugged. "It's up to you. Do whatever you think is best."
She looked thoughtful, then smiled. "Yes," she said. "I'll send him one. He needs to be more social. It'll do him good." She dipped her quill in the pot of ink and scribbled down his name on one of the invitations.
Harry dropped the chair into it's rightful place. He pocketed his wand and turned to Molly.
"I'm seeing him on Friday. I could give it to him then if you'd like? It would save sending an owl out."
"That would be wonderful," she said. She popped the invite into one of the envelopes. "Here you are." She handed it to him and he stuffed it in the back pocket of his jeans.
It had been just over a week since he'd last seen Snape. He was sure the man was cursing him for his absence, but Harry had needed to spend some time on his own, away from all the drama he'd been causing for himself.
It wasn't that he didn't want to see the man. He just didn't know what to say. He'd spent the days since his birthday trying to do as Jeremy had said and figure out what it was, exactly, that he wanted - not only in a companion, but out of life. Where did he see himself in ten years time?
It wasn't easy though. Nothing had become any clearer. He hadn't had an epiphany or any other such nonsense. An answer hadn't jumped out at him and made all his problems go away.
This was serious. He had to take control. Someone was going to get hurt, that much was clear. At this stage it was unavoidable.
Jeremy had said that stringing someone along until he made up his mind was wrong, and Harry wholeheartedly agreed. But he also knew that he couldn't risk making a huge mistake, otherwise everyone would end up hurt. No, he couldn't afford to chose the wrong person. Surely that would be worse, in the long run, than anything he did now?
He loved Ginny, but there was something there with Snape and he needed to know what it was.
It was an absolutely awful thing to do, but it had to be done. He had to jump into the deep end. He had to face this thing head-on. Until he figured out what it was that he wanted, he had to be a lying, cheating, son-of-a-bitch.
Maybe he should just shut up and enjoy the ride?
As Harry stood waiting on Snape's doorstep, he suddenly decided that he hated the expression 'son-of-a-bitch.' He had only used it in reference to himself because that's what the people on TV seemed to use in situations similar to this, but Harry thought it seemed rather offensive towards his mother and silently vowed never to use it again.
He rapped his knuckles on Snape's door for the fifth (maybe sixth?) time, cursing under his breath. The man was taking his sweet time! And it wasn't as if the street was deserted; it was a lovely summer's evening and children were riding their bikes up and down the gravel road, playing with remote control cars in their gardens, and chasing each other with plastic water-guns. But not all the families on this street were muggle - he'd already spotted a few curtain twitches here and there, witches and wizards staring out at him.
Perhaps it would be better to start using the Floo?
He sighed and looked over at the grimy window. He didn't really want to have to climb through all of the long grass and weeds, but if Snape wasn't answering the door then maybe he'd respond to a rather loud bang on the window.
Just has he turned away from the door, it clicked open. He whirled back round and found Snape staring out at him with a blank expression. Harry noted the rolled up shirt sleeves and realised the man must have been in the middle of brewing a potion.
Harry beamed. "About time," he said, stepping into the cottage and out of the warm sun. "I thought you were going to leave me out there all night."
An eyebrow rose but that was the only response he gave as he let Harry passed. He shut the door behind them both, turning the key in the lock and fastening the bolt.
"I hope I didn't cause you to spoil a potion," he said sincerely. "If you'd just open your floo connection it'd be a lot easier. I know someone who works in the Floo Office, maybe I could -" But before he could finish his sentence, Snape had pushed passed him, sparing him barely a glance.
Harry watched him cross the living room in big strides and come to a stop, back to the room, in front of the fireplace.
Harry fought hard not to sigh. Snape was in a mood. What else was new?
"I'm sorry I didn't stop by or owl you last week," he said. "I thought we could both use some time to think. After what happened."
Still, Snape didn't say anything. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes and sat down on the settee opposite the fire.
"I had a good talk with Jeremy. My assistant," he added, in case Snape thought that remembering Jeremy's name wasn't worth the effort. "And don't worry, he's not going to say anything. And no, I didn't Obliviate him. Some people can actually be trusted on their own merits, as surprising as that may seem to you." He smiled brightly, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Then he remembered that Snape's back couldn't possibly know what expression was on his face, and frowned.
"You look good," he said. "Healthy. Have you been working in the back garden?" He craned his neck and glanced through the back window. "It's coming along nicely. You should make a start on the front. Those weeds have a mind of their own."
He fidgeted nervously and looked about the room. He didn't like being ignored. It reminded him of the Dursley's.
"Fleur's pregnant again," he said. "I can't remember if I told you that or not. It's a girl. Molly and Arthur are still waiting for their first grandson. Not that they're not happy with granddaughters," he added quickly. "I mean, they have Teddy of course, but he's not technically…"
He bit his lip and fidgeted some more. He remembered the invitation in his back pocket and stood up to pull it out.
"I have this for you," he said, looking down at it. "It's an invite. The opening of the café is coming up soon. It'll be good fun. You should come."
Finally, Harry seemed to have said the right thing. Snape's head lifted and he turned, his dark eyes fixing upon Harry. His face was void of any expression and Harry felt rather unnerved. He held out the invitation uncertainly, trying his best to keep his hand steady. Snape glanced down at it before returning his gaze to Harry.
Harry gulped. Maybe he'd said the wrong thing?
He waggled the invitation in his fingers. "Are you going to take it or what?" he said.
A glint in Snape's eyes made Harry wish he'd stayed silent. He instinctively threw up his Occlumency shields - not that they would be much use against Snape's power - and braced himself for whatever was to come. He'd seen that look in Snape's eyes back at school and nothing good ever followed.
Harry watched with bated breath as Snape's mouth began to form words.
"I have your permission?" he said, incredulous, mocking, and barely a whisper.
"W-what?"
"Your permission," Snape repeated. "I have it? I'm allowed to attend?"
Harry dropped his hand. "Why are you doing this?"
Snape shrugged his shoulders. "I just wanted to clear a couple of things up so there's no confusion."
Harry shook his head, feeling himself go from unnerved to angry in record time.
"I thought we'd moved on from that," he said, throwing the invitation onto the sofa. "When you turned up at my birthday…I was just surprised. I didn't mean all that stuff I said. I thought you knew that? I mean, we did end up kissing and stuff."
Snape gave a single nod. "You're right, of course. But then, when are you not?"
Harry screwed up his fists. "Would you just stop it!" he snapped. "If you wanna come, then come. If you don't then stay the fuck away!"
He glared at Snape but the man didn't even react to his words. Slowly, almost leisurely, he unfolded him arms and crossed the room. He bent down and picked up the invitation from the sofa.
Harry immediately felt guilty. He hadn't meant to raise his voice but Snape could be so infuriating at times, and he knew the man did it on purpose. But this whole situation…it wasn't easy for either of them.
Snape sat down and Harry found his voice again.
"I didn't mean…I'm sorry I stayed away for so long," he said finally. "I've missed you. Really."
Snape grunted. Harry took that as a sign to continue and he did so, coming over and joining Snape on the settee.
"I've had a lot of time to think. And talking with Jeremy has helped. I didn't make any decisions but…well, all I know is that, right now, I want to spend time with you. I enjoy it. And I don't want there to be any interruptions," he went on. "No reminders of the world waiting for me out there. I just want us to enjoy one another when we're together and to just…see what happens. Can't we just leave it at that? Nothing has to be set in stone."
Snape gave a nasty snort. He scowled at Harry.
"And what of the time you spend with Miss. Weasley? The time leading up to your wedding? Is that not set in stone?"
That dreaded feeling of guilt reared it's head once more. He hesitated before speaking.
"You're right," he said. "I'm supposed to be getting married in December. But I need to know if…if there's something more, something different. And what did I just say about ignoring the outside world?"
"So," said Snape, ignoring Harry's last comment, "you wish to experiment with me until you come to a conclusion. I'm honoured, Potter. Touched."
"It's not like that!" he growled. "This is me trying to avoid making the worst mistake of my life. You think I'm being selfish? Fine. OK then. But this is something I have to do. Why can't you let it all go and just enjoy living in the moment? Is it that difficult?"
He stopped, breathing hard and glaring at Snape. Didn't he realise how important this was to Harry? Didn't he realise that the rest of Harry's life depended upon the choices he had to make in the coming months? Didn't he realise how many people Harry was trying to protect from getting hurt? He was trying to minimise the number of casualties this whole thing was inevitably going to cause, but he couldn't do that without help and support. He needed Snape. He needed to know…
Harry was expecting Snape to argue back, to say that yes, Harry was being very selfish; to say that there were more important things than Harry Potter's problems to worry about; to start throwing insults at him and yelling at him to get out and never bother him again.
But to Harry's great surprise, Snape frowned. He reached out a hand and, gently, brushed a stray hair from out of Harry's eyes.
"Do you have any idea of how desperate you look right now?" he said softly.
Harry's cheeks warmed. "I have an inkling," he murmured. He lowered his eyes to the hands fidgeting again in his lap. He forced them to stay still, and looked up when he heard Snape heaving a heavy sigh.
"This is against my better judgement…" he said.
Harry's face broke into a huge smile and he launched himself at the other man, wrapping his arms tightly around him.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much. This really does mean a lot to me."
Snape didn't reply, but Harry felt a hand brush through his hair.
"I have next Saturday free," he said, grinning up at Snape. "Could I maybe stay over on Friday?"
Snape didn't smile. He simply looked at Harry and said; "That would be acceptable."
A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm really happy that you're all still reading and enjoying! xx