With a pained smile, Hermione made her way over to Harry's table, nodding at the other pairs as she walked by. When she finally did reach her friend, it was clear that she was less than pleased, which was fine by Harry because he wasn't all that happy about the situation either. In fact, he thought the only one deriving any positive emotion from all of this was his partner who was driving Harry mad with his smirking.
"What is it, Harry? I don't know how many times I have to tell you about the Bonds of Trust before you finally listen," she muttered through her fake grin.
Harry grinned back. "As much as I hate to break the 'Bond,' this is an emergency," he hissed. Fortunately, this seemed to catch Hermione's attention, and she immediately adopted a look of concern.
"What's the matter," she asked, resting her hand on his forearm. "Are you okay?"
"I need to switch partners," he explained bluntly.
Disappointed with her friend's behavior, Hermione threw an apologetic look at the older man before slapping Harry's arm. "Harry! Don't be so rude," she chastised, her cheeks reddening.
"Don't worry about it, Ms. Granger. I don't expect primates to have manners, especially not this one," the man said glibly, earning him a soft snicker.
Harry's eyes narrowed at the betrayal (who's side was she on?) and pointed at Mr. Comedy Central. "Did you not just hear him? This is what I've been dealing with all day," he shouted. "I can't work like this. You need to find me someone else to talk to."
Hermione rolled her eyes as if Harry's demand was childish, something to take as a joke. Well, Harry was not kidding. "Honestly, Harry. Don't take everything so personally. It was just a joke," she explained. Harry felt the right corner of his mouth start to twitch. "Besides, it is too late to switch partners now. We are already five minutes into the second half of Round Two."
She gestured towards the other tables, and Harry was instantly filled with a sense of envy. There they were – smiling, laughing, crying, and patting each other on the shoulder. Being civil. And here he was – stuck with Mr. Grumpy. Mr. Judgmental. Mr. Born to Make Harry's Life Utterly Miserable. Was that fair? No. No, it wasn't. And there was only one way to fix things as far as Harry was concerned.
"Then I'm afraid I just have to leave early," Harry mumbled, starting to "pack up" (i.e., check his back pocket for his wallet).
"Not too fast, Mr. Potter. The contract says I must fully participate for the whole session. Therefore, I'm afraid you'll just have to stay here," his partner mocked.
Ah ha! Mr. Big Nose thought he was clever, but he really wasn't. "If you're required to 'fully participate,' then you must say the oath and actually talk."
"What do you think I've been doing this entire time, Potter?"
That was simple. "Sulking. Insulting. Ignoring."
"Oh, great. You can make words ending in 'ing.' If I give you the verb 'whine,' can you tell me how to conjugate that?"
Harry growled. How dare he insinuate that Harry was whining. He most certainly was not whining. He was sampling telling the truth!
His partner shook his head when Harry failed to respond. "No need to push yourself, Potter. You've accomplished far more than we ever expected already. Be happy enough that you can say your full name. That will probably earn you a gold star from your caretaker."
Knowing it was useless to even bother replying, Harry tried to plead with Hermione one last time. "If you won't let me talk with one of the others, why don't you just become my partner for the rest of the round?"
Hermione patted his shoulder kindly, her signal that she wasn't going to budge. "Even if that didn't break the rules, you know as well as I do that it would be completely pointless. You never talk to me about what's happening in your life and how you're feeling. That's why you're here, remember?"
"I will today," Harry promised, his desperation leaking through. Hermione only shook her head.
"Why don't you guys talk about something simple today," she suggested. "Severus, what is your favorite movie?" She flashed them both a quick smile before turning back to her spot at the front of the bar. If it weren't for one thing, Harry would have been pissed about being abandoned so abruptly. Fortunately, she'd unknowingly left a little gift to appease him.
"So you're name is Severus," Harry said slyly. Ha! He finally had a name!
Severus glared at him. "You do not have permission to refer to me by that name," he spat.
"Fine. So what should I call you? What's your last name?"
Severus looked him up and down once before sniffing. "I don't believe you to be worthy of such information, but if you insist, you may call me 'sir.'"
It was just so ridiculous that Harry turned left and right to see if anyone else was laughing at this joke. Maybe this was really all some sort of a prank, and Severus really was some sort of standup artist from Comedy Central. It would certainly explain a few things like Hermione's inexplicable allegiance to the other man. But Severus's stern look clearly revealed that all of this was serious, which led Harry to the realization that he had never met a more arrogant man in his entire life. "What? Like I'm your student or something?"
"Surprisingly, I don't teach elementary school brats."
"For the last time, I have an MBA in accounting!"
"Do you even know what that stands for? I'm pretty sure yours means Make Believe Accreditation."
"I graduated from Stanford!"
Severus scoffed. "Of all the lies to tell, Potter…At least try to come up with something slightly more believable. That you passed art class in kindergarten, for instance."
Be the better man. That's what Hermione would tell him to do. Be the better man. Be the better man. Be the better man. "What's your favorite movie," Harry asked while silently repeating his mantra. That had to be a safe topic, right?
"I don't watch movies," Severus stated slowly – as if it was common knowledge. Well, sorry if Harry didn't know what a stranger did on weekends!
"Be the better man. Be the better man. Be the better man," he mumbled, convinced he could feel his blood pressure rise. Once he finally composed himself (somewhat), he decided to try again. "So what do you do in your spare time?"
Severus narrowed his eyes. "Sit and wonder how the education system in this country has failed poor, miserable idiots like you," he responded bitterly.
Harry threw his hands up into the air. "I graduated from Stanford," he repeated vehemently. "What more do you want?"
"I don't know, Potter…The truth?"
He sneered. "How about I bring my diploma next week? Will that be enough evidence for you?"
"No one wants to see your crayon drawings, Potter. You can leave those on your fridge."
This all didn't make any sense to Harry. How could a man that smelled so good be so evil? It seemed odd to most people, but Harry had a theory. He strongly believed that people's perfume and cologne were indicators of their personalities. Take Hermione, for instance. She wore a perfume that smelled clean but not overly sweet, which matched the no-nonsense overachiever quite perfectly. But Severus's scent did not match his persona. Severus's scent was throwing a wrench in Harry's decade-old theory, and he hated to believe he was wrong. There had to be some redeeming quality about the cruel man. Something that made him worthy of smelling so…
"Are you blushing right now," Severus inquired, his tone revealing his disgust at the thought.
"No," Harry denied. "Uh…I think I must have eaten some peanuts earlier...I'm, uh, midly allergic…to peanuts. It causes my cheeks to turn red sometimes." Shit! Harry really needed to get his act together. More importantly, he needed to develop a strategy for finishing up this round as soon as possible, preferably without having to kill his partner.
"Oh, really? Because I'm fairly certain you didn't have such a colorful reaction last week when you graced us with your impression of a squirrel." Severus picked at something in his tooth. "I never knew a man could hold so many peanuts in his cheeks at one time."
How dare he! "I rushed here from work and hadn't eaten all day!" Severus snorted to show how much he believed that excuse. "Wait! You were here last week?"
"Surely you haven't forgotten the matter of the contract this quickly?"
"Well, how come I didn't smell…see, I meant see, you before?"
"Poor memory. Abysmal eyesight," Severus started, giving Harry's black eyeglasses a pointed look. "Nonexistent observational skills. Ignorance. Take your pick."
"Do you just naturally hate everyone?"
"What do you think?"
"Oh! Is this my chance to psychoanalyze you?"
For a quick moment, a look of surprise fleeted over Severus's otherwise stoic face, and Harry didn't quite know what to make of it. Oddly, the older man remained silent, which Harry translated as permission to proceed. As such, he took a long look at his partner. The man was definitely older than Harry, but it wasn't like he had gray hairs or wrinkles everywhere. There was just something about him that gave the impression that he'd been places and seen things. Then there was his nose, which was hard to miss due to its massive size. Yet Harry couldn't imagine a more suitable nose to go with the man's pale skin, thin lips, and sharp eyes. There wasn't much more to say about Severus in terms of his appearance (now, his personality was a whole other story). He was taller than Harry, but that wasn't much of a feat. (Harry was fun-sized.) His clothes were drab and forgettable. All in all, not a remarkable guy. If not for his damn deceptive cologne, Harry would walk by him without a second thought.
"Hmm…I feel like you prefer to spend time by yourself," Harry guessed. Severus rolled his eyes, obviously unimpressed. "You don't have many friends, and you don't have a close family. You live in an apartment…no pets. It's small, and it's fairly free of decorations. You don't care for photos, and you're one of those people that laugh at the price tags in art galleries. That's why your walls are bare. You do have one or two plants, though. When you're not here at the bar hovering over your employees – all of whom you're convinced are pocketing a bit more than their tips – or looking over your books to see if you're even making a profit, you stay at home and read the newspaper. The Times. You're constantly bored and tend to lash out at anyone who seems to have a life more exciting than yours." He paused to look at his partner, who any amateur cartoonist would have animated with clouds of grey fumes escaping from his ears. Harry must have been spot on, then. "So how close was I?"
"Kindly go f-"
"Time's up, everyone," Hermione announced, holding up her beeping phone. "I hope everyone had fun tonight, and we'd love to see you back here next week."
As Harry turned his attention away from Hermione, he found that his partner had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone around him was applauding and saying their goodbyes, a line forming around Hermione. This happened after every session – the newcomers always wanted to personally wanted thank the mastermind for her brilliant idea. Harry barely noticed. He was too busy staring at the swing door against the back wall and pushing down this peculiar, tingling feeling of regret. He rolled his eyes, more at himself than at his partner's dramatic exit.
So much for being the better man…
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me this far! ;) I've decided to keep writing so long as I have people who are interested. ALLSSOO, I'm taking suggestions for Harry's partner at the next STA session, so drop me a message with a character name and their life problems/obsessions/whatever and you might see them in the next chapter. :)