A/N: So... Grad school is going well. I apologise for the delay with this chapter, I had writers block and placement tests to study for (and pass!), and... chapter!
Chapter 10
"Polyjuice..." Severus grumbled as he trudged down to his cellar. He couldn't believe that he had offered to take Beatrice to Diagon Alley as if it were some sort of date. What sort of spineless, gormless flobberworm had she turned him into? It was only a few kisses; no reason for his brain to turn into a pile of mush and spew out the last thing he ever intended to say. He reached his potions cabinet and glared at it as if it were the source of all of his problems.
"Polyjuice..." he grumbled again. This time his sneer was more pronounced. Unbidden, the images of her happy, flushed appearance appeared before his eyes. A tiny voice inside him crowed that he had done that. He, slimy, wretched, Snivellus, had brought that dazed look of contentment to her eyes. He had left her lips flushed and swollen. He had made her mewl and writhe against him with only his mouth and voice. The power was... disconcertingly heady, he decided.
His sneer became a lustful smirk. Beatrice wanted him, and tonight he meant to have her. He knew that she had changed clothing for his benefit and played innocent as to her motives. Severus couldn't believe that she expected him not to notice the dramatic change in her attire from virginal prude to a veritable buffet of skin. Who was she trying to fool? He thought about it a little more and realised that it may not be so bad to give into the expectations of others. He only refused Beatrice's favours because he considered her irritating baggage... All right, he only denied her because he was foisted on him by an interfering busybody, and contrary to his role as a sycophant, he hated–hated–doing what others told him to.
He thought back to the feel of his hands around her waist. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to give in, this time...
Reluctance banished, he reached into the potions cabinet and drew out a phial of Polyjuice and an empty hip flask. He poured the contents into the flask and left the empty phial in the sink; he would take care of it later. He turned, shuffling through the supplies in the cabinet. He eventually found a small, dusty cardboard box. Severus blew a layer of dust off of the top of the box and pulled open the cardboard flaps. Inside, there was a small collections of phials stuffed with hair he had taken off of unsuspecting muggles.
He rummaged through the lot until he found a suitable specimen. "Blond, green eyes, tan," read the label. He popped out the cork and extracted a hair, then dumped the hair into a hip flask of the prepared Polyjuice. It smoked and roiled ominously. He counted himself lucky that he couldn't see the resulting sludge. He'd never admit it in front of his students, but some potions would always be disgusting.
He shook his head ruefully at the lengths he was going to please her. A week ago, or–Merlin–yesterday, he would have never seen himself doing anything to make Beatrice happy. He thought that he enjoyed her scowls and frustrated glares, but when confronted with her pleased, surprised smile, he was filled with a feeling of contentment that he hadn't experienced in years. It was confusing to say the least. He didn't know if it was worth the effort of being nice.
Severus grimaced at the Polyjuice and raised the flask in a solitary, ironic salute to his new ambitions. "Cheers."
Shopping! Beatrice couldn't believe that Severus was taking her shopping! Well, she corrected herself, not shopping exactly, but at least she was going somewhere, with him instead of without him, for a change. She was fully aware that their arrangement stretched the meaning of the words "married couple," and she had resigned herself to never doing anything with him other than sit at the dinner table and glare at one another.
Merlin help her, but she was jealous of all of her married friends and their romantic little jaunts through Diagon Alley, their stopping at Fortescue's for an ice cream, stealing kisses in hidden alcoves...
She sat at her dressing table and gave a critical glance at her reflection. Her hair was mussed and her lips were still swollen from Severus' attentions. Combined with the low cut of her robes, she appeared absolutely wanton. She smirked; beneath his cold exterior, Severus was like any other man and susceptible to womanly charm. Beatrice just couldn't believe it had taken her this long to realise that warding him off didn't work as well as drawing him in.
A wave of her wand later, and every hair was placed with immaculate perfection. She leaned forward and noticed with a smile just how low her bodice dipped; it was enticing, but far from scandalous. She applied some rouge to her cheeks and tint to her lips and then took in her finished appearance. Satisfied, she went to her wardrobe and pulled out her summer cloak before heading downstairs.
She reached the bottom floor and shut the bookcase behind her with a click. She looked up to see a stranger standing in front of her.
"Merlin's ghost!" she shrieked, taking a stumbled step back. After a moment's reflection, she realised that stranger bore her husband's robes. "Severus?"
Instead of a lanky, sallow, raven of a wizard, there was a man with short blond hair, green eyes, and a tan. Severus reached up to scratch the back of his head, silently cursing muggles and their penchant for short hair. "I see you didn't recognise me," he drawled.
Beatrice's heart was still hammering inside her chest. "No, it was the tan that threw me off the scent," she quipped as she finally regained control over her heart. "With such a healthy colour, it couldn't have possibly been you."
"How droll." He looked her up and down. "You look... nice," he said at length. His face pinched and words stuck to his tongue. "
Th-thank you," she stuttered and blushed. Beatrice couldn't believe that Severus gave her a compliment.
His face softened and he moved to speak before he caught himself and twitched his robes around him with a scowl. "Are you ready to go?"
"I suppose."
"Let's go." Severus grabbed her arm to lead her out, when he felt Beatrice tugging back.
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"No." How dense did she think him?
"What about your robes?"
He looked down at his black robes. They were pressed, relatively stain free, and what he always wore. "What about my robes?"
She nervously chewed in her bottom lip, but pressed onwards. "If you're not going as yourself, should you go dressed as yourself?"
Bugger. Severus looked down and scowled with irritation. She had a point–how had he forgotten to change his robes? He sighed and stood straight, holding out his arms. "Well, come on then. We don't have all day."
"What? You want me to... oh! Certainly." Beatrice pulled out her wand and gave it a subtle wave. Severus felt a breeze as his robes rippled around him, shifting into another style.
He looked down and was satisfied that the transfiguration was sedate. "Now, dearest, may we leave?"
Beatrice gave him a small smile, took his arm, and they Dissaparated for Diagon Alley.
Severus vowed silently that this was the first and last time they would ever go to Diagon Alley together–ever. It seemed that Beatrice had taken full license of his disguise to drag him to every godforsaken corner of the Wizarding alley. He wasn't sure if this new plan of his was even worth the aggravation, if this was the had window shopped at the haberdashery, gazed at kneazle kits, and wandered the food market trying the latest morsel portkeyed in from Egypt or wherever. She didn't even pause as she strolled right past the apothecary, but found plenty of time to look at the flower vendors. It was to his great relief that they had stopped at Flourish and Blott's, at least he enjoyed some part of the day. When they had past Madam Malkin's, it was his turn to hustle her right past the open door. He new better than to let a witch loose in a clothes store.
On the other hand, there had been some interludes that he had enjoyed. He found it guiltily liberating to behave like a youth and snatch his witch off to snog in a hidden corner.
Now, the found themselves at their last stop of the day. They were seated at Fortescue's sharing a sundae, of all the nauseatingly sweet things to do. If they weren't in public (and the ice cream so delicious), Severus would have vomited.
Severus put down his spoon and reached for his hip flask. It seemed that he only had two more doses left before he had to revert back. He took the second to last sip and tucked the flask back into his pocket. Suddenly, he heard Beatrice gasp and drop her spoon. He looked up to see her looking pale and staring at something behind him. He swivelled in his seat.
Behind him stood Lucius Malfoy.
Severus hid that he recognised the other wizard. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked, putting on a polite air.
Malfoy squinted at him before flashing a deviously charming smile. "Severus, old boy. I thought that was you!"
Severus didn't have to fake the sneer plastered across his face. He turned back to his ice cream and shoved it away. "Fine Lucius, gloat. How did you know it was me?" he drawled.
"Oh, how shocking!" Malfoy gave a dramatic gesture. "Not even a 'Sit down, old friend,' or 'Of course you can join us!'"
Severus swallowed the curse on the tip of his tongue. "Just sit down, you old goat." Once the patrician sat, he gave his friend the nod of welcome he had wanted.
Malfoy was the first to speak. "I'm sorry about demolishing your disguise-a rather good one I might add, I didn't recognise you with a tan. Where did you get the hair?"
His cheek twitched; it seemed that everyone had something to say regarding his pasty complexion. It was therefore, with great pleasure, that he replied, "Muggle."
"Oh..." Malfoy suddenly felt dirty for shaking Severus' Polyjuiced hand. "Well, where was I? Ah yes, I recognised your lovely bride there," he nodded at Beatrice who simply glowered, "and thought I'd see how the happy couple was doing."
"You're concern is touching, friend, especially seeing as it was all your doing."
"What a dreadful sentiment to express! I thought you'd at least be grateful for the company."
Severus glanced at Beatrice, who seemed caught between silently hyperventilating and gouging out Malfoy's heart with her syrup-covered spoon. As amusing as it was, he felt the need to intervene. "Lucius, what did you need?"
Malfoy rested his hand on the handle of his silver cane. "My message is actually for your lovely wife." He gave another nod to Beatrice. "As per our arrangement, I will be making regular shipments, seeing as you maintained your end, I shall maintain mine."
"Thank you," Beatrice gritted out with false politeness.
"And Severus, I was also to inform you that our Lord is very excited regarding the recent developments with...you know what. He would like for you to continue making contacts."
Severus frowned at how open Malfoy was acting with this information. He gave a sideways glance to where Beatrice sat, and Malfoy followed his gaze.
Lucius tapped his cane on the ground to regain his attention."Really, Severus. She won't be telling anyone...will you my dear?" Lucius glanced at his immaculate nails. "Our resident spy is so concerned about security."
"Lucius," Severus growled. They were in public, why not just announce his position to the world while he was at it?
"Oh fine, some of us have no sense of humour. Until next time, Severus." Malfoy stood and gave a brief bow to his companions.
After Malfoy had left, Severus turned to her with a raised eyebrow. It didn't work as well with his current face. "I didn't realise that you and Lucius were business associates."
"It is nothing of import." As his wife didn't seem inclined to say anymore, Severus narrowed his eyes, but left it at that.
Late after dinner, Severus found himself alone downstairs pacing the floor. They had sat together for some time, she working on embroidery, and he reading a potions journal. Once Beatrice had gone upstairs, he had been left alone to stew in his own anxiety. He had finally jumped off the deep end and started talking to himself.
"This is bloody ridiculous!" he mumbled. "It's my house and I can go upstairs if I want to. Who cares if she's in the shower?"
He dangerously nudged a stack of books as he whipped past. "She's getting ready for bed...in my bed, and that witch belongs to me."
He remembered how delicious she felt underneath his hands, and his palms itched to get underneath those robes of hers. He wondered what she wore to sleep.
"No," he stopped himself. "I can't appear too eager." He raked his hand though his hair, and withdrew it with a disgusted expression and stared at his grubby palm. "Sodding...need a goddamned shower...bloody..."
Dippy popped into the room. "Can Dippy get master anyth—"
"No!" he roared and chucked a book at the unfortunate elf's head. She popped out of the room as quickly as she appeared.
He sat down on the sofa and the springs squeaked with protest. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands. "Get a hold of yourself, Snape. You're a man, not a pubescent boy."
From upstairs, he could hear the subtle whine of the bedroom door closing. He stood from the sofa and alighted silently up the stairs before stepping into the shower.
