A/N: Thanks again for sticking with me this far! If you have any comments about things you liked or didn't like, I'd love to hear them.
Hope you enjoy this new chapter! :)
There were times when Harry really despised Hermione's abundance of rules. In particular, he thought the one banning alcohol during sessions was absolutely barbaric. Supposedly, the prohibition kept STA members from using beer as a clutch or an excuse for spilling their guts (pun not intended). Hermione was convinced that things should flow naturally, that people should only share what they truly felt comfortable with – and only when they were sober. Well, Harry had had a rough day. No, scratch that. Harry had had a rough week, and his brain was telling him that the only cure was a prescription known as Budweiser beer.
Sadly, there were no refreshments of that variety when he walked into Hog's Head. For a moment, he remembered that he actually knew the pub's owner and theoretically could have persuaded the man to sneak him a bottle when Hermione wasn't looking. Obviously, this was ignoring the fact that said owner hated Harry with every fiber in his body. And just to remove any doubt about where the two of them stood, Severus had (literally) left Harry a sign. At the soda and snack table was now a flyer with Harry's face and a message: "If you see this animal, please don't feed him peanuts. He has an allergy that causes his cheeks to turn cherry red upon consumption. While the sight may be amusing, it is also detrimental to his health. We appreciate your understanding." As if that wasn't enough, the picture of Harry was photoshopped so that his cheeks jutted out to the side and were painted bright red. Then his front two teeth were enlarged and hung over his bottom lip like an overbite. To top everything off, there was a big, black "X" over his edited face.
"He really thinks he's funny, doesn't he?" Harry grumbled to himself as he picked up the flyer, seconds away from shredding it into tiny, little pieces.
"Oh! So you saw the poster? Isn't Severus so clever?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining with amusement. Harry just blinked at the girl he hadn't seen in a week. "Come on, Harry. Where is your sense of humor? Everyone else thinks it's hilarious. It's really lightened the mood around here. Normally people are so nervous and tense at the start of the session, but now they're more relaxed. You think we can get Severus to do another prank next we-"
"I'm really not drunk enough for this," he mumbled as he walked away, not even bothering to turn around to see the sad look Hermione was undoubtedly giving him. Instead, he walked over to an unoccupied table, closed his eyes, and tried to find comfort in the fact that there were seven bars within walking distance that would be open once all this was over.
He must have somehow lost track of time during his daydream of getting wasted at the Three Broomsticks because when he opened up his eyes again, people were finally moving away from the snack table and turning to look at Hermione. Before she started her speech, she shot him a look, and Harry (once again) felt guilty about his behavior. It wasn't Hermione's fault that Harry had had a shitty day at work or that she didn't understand that Severus's flyer wasn't meant to just rouse a few giggles, but Harry had taken out his anger on her. Again.
"I want to thank everyone for coming to Speed Therapy Anonymous today. It's so nice to see returning members and some new faces. I think that everyone has already paid the fee, so we'll just get started right now if that's okay for now," Hermione started, pausing for a moment to see if anyone had any complaints. "Each session has two rounds, Round One and Round Two, that last thirty minutes each. You will be paired with one person in Round One and then we'll switch things around so that you'll have a new partner for Round Two. During each round, each partner will have fifteen minutes to talk. We call these fifteen-minute discussions Part One and Part Two. Once Round Two is over, you are free to stick around and mingle with other members. I will also be staying after for anyone who would like to talk to me privately. But before any of the rounds start, everybody must pledge to their partner that they will not share anything their partner discusses with anyone else. This is supposed to be a private conversation between the two of you that doesn't go outside of these rooms. Does everyone understand how STA works?"
"Yes," the crowd answered.
Hermione clapped her hands. "Wonderful! Then let's have everyone pair up and go to a table."
As Harry had already chosen his table, he just waited for someone to come join him, silently praying that Jessie and Severus would steer clear from him. Eventually, a young man around his age approached him, and Harry was allowed to release a breath of relief. He really needed to let some things off his chest and thought his new partner seemed like a sane guy that he could talk with without fear of being chastised or glared at.
"Hi. My name's Neville," the man said, holding out his hand. Harry shook it.
"Nice to meet you, Neville. I'm Harry," he said, some of his earlier tension slowly easing away. Neville was taller and thicker than Harry, who was fairly lean himself, but didn't seem threatening. He wore khakis and a gray vest over a white dress shirt. He'd probably just gotten off of work like Harry.
"Nice to meet you, too." Neville smiled, and Harry returned the gesture.
"Great! Everyone seems to have paired up with someone. Please take a minute to exchange your Oaths of Confidentiality before starting Part One of Round One. You'll hear my phone go off when you're fifteen minutes is up," Hermione explained.
Harry looked over at Neville. "I promise that whatever you say will stay between us. I won't repeat a word," he swore.
Neville nodded. "And I promise the same," he said simply. "Would you like to go first? You look like you've got a lot of stuff that's bothering you."
Harry laughed humorlessly. Who knew that he was that transparent? "How could you tell?"
"Well, I happened to be behind you at the snack table…" He held his hands up in the air. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it seemed like you and whoever made that flyer have…an interesting relationship."
He rolled his eyes. "It's really not that interesting. He hates me and tries to say things to rile me up on purpose. I respond and say some things that are kind of out of line. He retaliates with public humiliation." Harry shrugged. "That's about it."
His partner raised an eyebrow, wordlessly expressing his skepticism. "Are you sure that's it?"
Harry didn't care about the fact that Neville was sworn to secrecy. He was not in the mood to go into detail about Severus because any discussion would eventually reveal that Harry was obsessed with Severus's scent. As in he wasted his entire weekend going from Macy's to Boston Store to Sephora to Ulta trying to find that cologne. As in his business coworkers were getting suspicious after he started unsubtly sniffing them. As in he'd sometimes wake up from dreams he couldn't remember and swear he could smell it. As in Harry had lost his mind.
"I don't even care about him," he lied. "I was just super irritated earlier because work has been utter hell."
"What's been going on at work?"
Harry frowned. "It's hard to explain, but it's like everyone is ignoring me. I make suggestions. They ignore them. I point out mistakes in their presentation. They ignore them. I just don't know what's happening. Everyone on the board used to talk to each other. Now it seems like they're leaving me out of stuff, which is frustrating because I want to be a part of helping our company grow just like they do. I don't know. It's probably me just being paranoid…I have been kind of distracted lately. I could just be overreacting."
"Have you told anyone at work about it?"
"I tried to talk to Dudley, one of our board of directors, but he always running off to meetings these days. You practically have to schedule an appointment with him a year in advance to get any time with him." There was more to that story, but now wasn't the time to go into his issues with Dudley. That's something he'd probably have to pay a certified therapist for.
"So what are you going to do?" And that was the million dollar question.
"I don't know. It's just that so many people think that I'm a…" Harry stopped, his mind searching for the proper word. "A figurehead. People don't think I'm doing anything at the company, and I don't feel like I am when everyone is doing stuff that I don't even know about."
Neville was quiet for a while while Harry tried to calm himself. Everything was just so frustrating. There were times when Harry felt like a little kid begging his classmates to let him join in on their game. No, that wasn't quite right. He felt like a little kid begging his parents to let him sit with the other adults. He felt like an outsider. Which sucked because all he wanted to do was help. But how was he supposed to help when every morning he'd come to the office, open his emails (that were always forwarded conversations between others), and find out about how his so-called partners had done this deal and made that arrangement with this partner or terminated some contract that he'd never even heard of. If it weren't for his secretary and his Gmail account, Harry would be no more a part of the company than a random stranger. And it was really starting to bother him.
"If you don't mind me asking, where do you work?"
Ah, and there was the question he hated the most. As soon as people found out where he worked (and who he was), they started to treat him differently. But Neville seemed like a cool guy, and something made Harry believe that he wouldn't act like everyone else. "I'm the CFO at Godric's Bank," he replied, carefully watching Neville's face for any reaction.
Both of Neville's eyebrows rose, which was a mild reaction compared to the loud gasps or face fanning he normally got from women and the sneers and shoves he typically got from men. "You've been in the news a lot recently," was all Neville said.
"That's an understatement."
Godric's Bank was the top regional bank and was always under inspection by the press, who wanted to know everything related to the bank from interest rates to Harry's newest date. Harry did his best to keep his life private and away of the eyes of media and had been fairly successful at keeping his own face out of magazines and newspapers. Nonetheless, the paparazzi and news reporters were relentless and fed off of all the controversial things the board members did. It often seemed like their life goal was to turn ever last local against Godric's while simultaneously getting permission to film Harry's marriage ceremony (whenever that would be).
Hermione's phone went off, and Harry was shocked by how quickly fifteen minutes had passed. Sure, his problems hadn't been resolved, but he somehow felt less angry and aggravated with the world. He had Neville – and, in a way, Hermione – to thank for that.
The next fifteen minutes were actually fairly decent. From Harry's past experiences, he could never have predicted how good he felt just listening to someone else's problems. Like Neville, Harry tried to withhold any criticism and only ask the other man neutral questions that were meant to guide the conversation more than dig through all of his private information. So that's how Harry learned about Neville's secret crush and his childhood battle with his self-esteem. Before they parted ways, Harry wished Neville the best of luck with his mystery lady and Neville jokingly told Harry that he'd be keeping an eye on him to make sure he stayed away from the peanut bowl.
It was only when Hermione directed the partner closest to her to move five tables over that Harry got a whiff of a scent that was equally alluring and repulsive. On one hand, Harry's body hummed with the excitement over finally getting the chance to smell the cologne he'd been searching forever for. On the other hand, Harry's brain was sending alerts to the rest of his body that said cologne could only belong to one person, a person he'd been desperately wishing would disappear off the face of the planet (but leave the name of his cologne behind first). Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils willfully flaring as the scent grew stronger and stronger.
"Mr. Potter," a deep voice said. Harry kept his eyes squeezed shot. "I would love to say it's a pleasure to see you again, but why even bother with such a patent lie?"
Harry moaned. "Why? Why does the world hate me?"
"I would reproach you for assuming the world revolves around you or suggest you save your dramatic monologues for the deaf, but then I realized that it might not be such a hyperbole. I mean, it doesn't seem that inconceivable that billions of people would hate a self-absorbed idiot like you."
Another moan. "Can we just do the confidentiality thing? I'd really just like to get this started with. "
"Heaven forbid you squander a chance to talk about yourself!"
Harry had had enough. "Listen, I think we both said things last week that we didn't really mean. Can we please move on?"
"Yes, you're right, Potter. I believe I implied that you had somehow managed to pass kindergarten last time. If I may retract that statement, I'd like to make a revision. It's quite apparent to me now that it would be a miracle if you'd even gotten past preschool."
This was really too much as far as Harry was concerned. "Are you really that mad about what I said before? If so, I'm sorry. Jeez!"
Severus sneered. "I don't need or care about your disingenuous apologies."
"Then what do you care about, Severus? I've clearly done something to make you hate me this much. Why don't you do the 'self-absorbed idiot' a favor and explain it to me?"
Severus laughed, and it sent a shiver down Harry's back. "You truly don't remember?" Harry gave him a blank look. "Of course you don't! Do you even go to work or do you just lie around at home and let everyone do the work for you?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you know about where I work or what I do? As smart as you believe yourself to be, you seem to consistently fail to remember one little fact. You. Don't. Know. Me."
"You presumptuous cretin," Severus spat viciously, spittle flying all over the place. "You seriously think I don't recognize you? You're Harry James Potter, CFO of the bank that's currently trying to steal my business and steal my home."
Blink. That's all Harry could do right now. Stare and blink.
"What?"
Severus stared back at Harry, his fingernails digging grooves into the wooden table. Unsatisfied with the donning look on Harry's face that was two percent disbelief, five percent shock, and ninety-three percent horror, Severus walked away.