Courting Disaster. Chapter 16.

[pekeleke]

Title: Courting Disaster. 16.

Rating :NC-17.

Author: pekeleke

Word Count: 4818

Warnings: None.

Disclaimer: Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.

Summary: For once in his life Harry Potter has a plan. A carefully plotted plan to help him conquer the heart of an extremely reluctant Severus Snape, only... conquering a suspicious ex-spy isn't for the fainthearted and soon Harry finds himself -quite literally- courting disaster.

Courting Disaster.

 

Severus hears the first Howler crash loudly against the magical barrier that surrounds his shop and smirks to himself.
'Idiots, the lot of them. How dare they assume me to be witless enough to neglect the task of setting up proper defenses against an attack that was as predictable as the sunrise after dawn?'

The latest edition of The Prophet had arrived via owl promptly at six thirty in the morning and it hadn't surprised him in the slightest to see the kind of damaging article that he'd been expecting all along dominating the front page:
'Savior Caught In Clandestine Affair With Death Eater Turncoat.'

The headline had been pretty self-explanatory all by itself and the article that accompanied it had been liberally sprinkled with not so subtle insinuations about 'the certain foul play' he must have committed in order to snare the affection of the Wizarding world's 'most dashing and vulnerable hero'.  Severus hadn't enjoyed the story in particular, but he isn't overly shocked by its content since the tone of it had fallen right along the lines he was most prepared to read.

He's been expecting their 'association' to hit the papers since the first time they went to Rosmerta's together and, although the fact that his decision to cut that date short due to the barkeeper's interference had granted them a few days of grace, someone who'd been present at the bistro they'd visited last night must have sold the story to the press.

Despite his own low expectations, Severus can't help but feel letdown by how easily, how carelessly, they'd been betrayed for what he assumes must have been a pitiful enough amount of Galleons.  A few outings together at public, but small venues where they both are equally known to the regular patrons was all it took for their secret liaison to become front page news. They haven't been going out into Wizarding London for that long. They hadn't even lingered at that particular bistro due to the fact that Severus had been nursing a bad headache all afternoon long and Harry had only managed to get him out at all with the promise of a hearty meal, since the idea of heading home and cooking dinner for himself had made him feel even more miserable than he'd already been.

Someone must have followed them after they left the restaurant, since the picture that accompanies the article shows the moment when Harry cradled his face between those callused hands of his and kissed his aching forehead with the kind of devotion that not even a barely focused grainy picture can possibly deny.

The image is compromising enough to have given the Prophet the perfect excuse to write a ruthlessly clever and inflammatory piece that brims with barely concealed innuendo.  It only suggests that they left the bistro in a hurry due to 'a sudden onset of lustful impatience' that could have been caused by the effect of the surreptitiously delivered potion he must have 'certainly dropped on his victim's drink', but Severus knows enough of human nature by now to be perfectly aware of the fact that the article's carefully worded suggestions will have far more weight with the masses than all his avowals of innocence put together.

Severus sighs as the loud roar of what must amount to several thwarted Howlers screeching abuse at him from the other side of his carefully constructed shields reaches his ears. Despite his fierce determination to ignore the hurt that is beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach like a cauldron full of poison, he can't avoid feeling numb with the kind of pained sorrow that has been his constant companion since the very second he'd turned his back on the Dark Lord.

This is the people he'd worked so tirelessly to protect. These are the men and women whose lives were never tainted by the cruel violence of the war, thanks to his tireless efforts on their behalf. He never expected their gratitude. Never craved their forgiveness and hasn't allowed their wounding indifference to harm the last vestiges of the pitiful amount of sanity that he's managed to retain after the war.

He made peace with the idea that he'd never achieve greatness in the eyes of the public a long time ago, but had foolishly expected to be granted a modicum level of respect at the very least. He'd been justly prosecuted at a very public trial and the Wizengamot itself had judged his many crimes 'a necessary evil brought forth by the needs of war'.

He'd been absolved of all wrongdoing. Hailed as a war hero right alongside Harry and his trusty band of rebellious Gryffindor peers and other assorted misfits, but the truth has always been inexplicably easy to forget by the bulk of wizarding society.  Despite his Order of Merlin, first class, and the freedom the court had been unable to deny him, he remains a Death Eater in the eyes of most people.  He is a turncoat.  A callous murderer.  He has become a waste of magic and space in everybody's mind.  He is nothing short of a despicable pariah.

After everything he sacrificed for Albus' thrice cursed 'Greater Good', after almost dying and going through the trauma of enduring an emotionally draining trial, after leaving his home behind in order to simply survive, it is beyond heartbreaking to realize that he is still the same man he's always been in everybody's eyes: he remains shrouded in suspicion.  Forever distrusted and unjustly vilified.  An easy target for the ever-popular, self-righteous bullies who so enjoy preying on the unworthy.

“But I am not unworthy anymore.”  He growls into the silence that surrounds him before taking a single deep breath.  Forcing himself to square his shoulders in wary anticipation of the confrontation that awaits him.

He snuffs out the magical flame under his finished potion with a practiced wave of his wand and abandons his position behind the long worktop that dominates his laboratory.  His movements are both elegant and measured as he walks calmly towards the stairs, hesitating only a second before taking the all-important first step that will eventually deliver him to the small, poky corridor that opens into the seldom used front room of his humble shop.

The sound of his footsteps resonates in the eerie silence like the sharp lash of a whip and he shivers with the knowledge that he's putting himself directly in danger's perilous path once again.  Mobs have always failed to support him and he finds them both cowardly and disruptive. They are dangerous, yes, but they are also pathetically predictable and if there is something he'd learned from James Potter's unrelenting bullying during his school years is that retreat is not an option he can afford to contemplate when confronted with an enraged bully, let alone hundreds of them.

Perceived cowardice on his part now will only allow the righteous bastards who think they are fit enough to judge him to believe themselves justified in their assumptions.  Retreat isn't the only weapon useful in battle and sometimes the only way for a wily old snake to reach temporary safety is to force its enemies into backing away through direct confrontation.

Draco's familiar eagle-shaped Patronus arrives in the shop just as he reaches the till and he smiles at it with the instinctive recognition of a man who was there when this truly regal manifestation of his godchild's magic was first conjured.  Pride... his boy has so much of it that he's managed to imbue his corporeal Patronus with that quality, creating a magnificent silver beast of might and beauty that dazzles the eye as it sweeps regally through the air, circling Severus' form twice before alighting on the counter in order to convey Draco's obviously panicked message.

“The wards to your shop are being attacked, godfather.  I can feel the disruption to their magic at multiple points right now.  There is a mob outside your door and the Howlers that can't make it past your shields are being redirected to the manor as we speak.  I had my lawyers descend on The Prophet's editor office like a pack of hungry wolves, but there is nothing we can do at the moment to minimize the current frenzy except keeping you away from the public eye.

“In an effort to try and calm everybody down Potter is attempting to schedule an interview with Rita Skeeter, but she is playing hard to get.  Please floo home as soon as you can and remain behind locked doors until further notice.  Do.  Not.  Leave.  Your.  House.  For.  Any.  Reason, godfather.  I will be there as soon as I find out how your... boyfriend... is planning to get you out this mess.”

The message comes to an abrupt halt and the magnificent eagle looks at him sternly before disappearing with such a familiar toss of its head that Severus can't contain the small chuckle that makes it past his lips.
'Oh, Draco, Draco, Draco... You know me better than this. You should have been able to predict that I wouldn't follow that particularly unhelpful advice.  I can't do what you ask, even if I want to, which I most definitely don't.  Waiting around in the face of danger only works for those who have no doubt they will be rescued and I have been left to fix my problems alone for long enough to know better than to expect... the cavalry.'

He ponders the wisdom of replying to Draco via his own Patronus for a second, but decides against such action out of habit.  He's so used to keeping that particular form of magic as a last resort in battle that he can't bear to conjure his delicate doe for anything short of imminent death.  She is too precious to be treated like a messenger, anyway.  She is his shield against Dementors, the most candid representation of his vulnerable inner-self.  She is a part of himself that he would never freely expose to the derision of others under normal circumstances, and there is nothing so truly out of the ordinary about the situation he is currently facing.

A fortifying breath is all the preparation he allows himself to take before casting the Alohomora that unlocks the front door of his shop, leaving it free to swing inwards ever so slowly and bring in the unpleasant jeering that is now increasing in volume due to the fact that the furious mob outside has finally managed to get a glimpse of him.

Their idiotic leader attempts to take a step forwards and is taught the hard way just how perilous it can be for one's health to try messing with an Ex-Death Eater's wards.  The shield he placed outside his shop holds true, despite Draco's assurances that it is being tampered with, and Severus can't suppress the self-satisfied smirk that blooms across his thin lips as he waits with amused complacency for the magic he'd weaved onto the specialized Repelling Charm that he recently added to the shop's wards to unleash its power now that it has been triggered by the presence of a visitor who is so obviously willing to cause him bodily harm.

The moment his moronic would-be attacker attempts to cross past the outer limit of the wards a second time he is zapped by a rather flashy lash of magic that leaves him Stunned right where he stands for all his companions to see.  Their leader's unexpected misfortune manages to bring the loud mob to blessed silence and Severus uses the opportunity to step outside slowly, conscious of the fact that all eyes are now fixed upon him.  Following his every move with a frightened sort of venom as everyone finally arrives at the unavoidable conclusion that he may be alone before them, but he is certainly not defenseless.

He is a far better wizard than any of them will ever be and there is no way for them to guess precisely how his wards are rigged.  They've got no clue of what will set his shields off or where, precisely, they lay.  They only know that their Howlers can not reach his shop and they are equally unable to make it past the outer edge of the sidewalk directly before his front door.

“Do you think you frighten us with your clever little tricks, Death Eater?”

The question raises from the front row of bodies forming a positively disturbing-looking human wall in front of him and he shakes his head from side to side.  Not in answer to that rather uninspired challenge, but in reaction to his own amused thought about how he has never truly managed to teach anything worth learning to anyone on his first try.
“My name is Severus Snape.  That is master Severus Snape to you, Mr... Smith... wasn't it?  Zacharias Smith, the cowardly Hufflepuff.”

“Don't you dare call me names, you, dirty scum!  I'm a decent wizard who is willing to protect our naïve Savior from whatever Dark Arts you've cast upon him.”

Severus laughs scornfully, delighting in the freeing exhilaration of allowing himself the pleasure of putting the idiot in his place.  He has grown increasingly tired in recent years of the small little looks that most people send his way from the corner of their eyes as he passes them on the streets, and it's simply marvelous to have the opportunity to hear what they've been thinking all along and feel equally certain that restraining his own temper-fueled reaction won't aid his cause any longer.

“I do not practice the Dark Arts, child.  Had you paid proper attention to your professors at Hogwarts you'd be now able to remember that my particular expertise when it comes to that subject lays in defending against them, not in using them for things that can be achieved by legally acceptable means with equally... satisfying... results.”

“We don't believe you.  You are a traitor and a liar.  You're a cold-blooded murderer.  You must have dosed Harry Potter with a Love Potion for him to even look twice at your disgusting face!”

Severus laughs with unfettered disdain, feeling most perversely amused by the thoroughly uninspired accusation.
“Is that the best you can do, Mr. Smith?  Do you really think I care at all about the fact that you find me ugly?  I have been called far worse in my lifetime, I assure you.”

“Harry Potter is way out of your league, Death Eater, leave him alone or we'll...”

“What?  What, precisely, are you planning to do to the man I love, Zach?”

Severus jumps, just as everyone else does, in shocked reaction to the abrupt appearance of the Boy Who Lived right beside him.  Harry seems to have been able to Apparate straight through his wards without triggering a single one of them.  He is wearing a crumpled Quidditch uniform and is holding his ridiculously expensive monogrammed broom in one hand, and his wand in the other, looking for all intents and purposes like any athlete who has just forgo the refreshing benefits of a shower after a hard training session in order to rush home to his beloved would look like.

Harry's famous green gaze flashes with narrow-eyed disgust upon hearing Zacharias Smith's rushed explanation:
“Listen to yourself, Harry!  It's obvious to everyone that this scumbag must have poisoned you with one of his concoctions.  You need to come with us.  We'll take good care of you and make sure Snape pays for what he's done.”

Harry bristles at the words.  He drops his broom to the floor as if it were a mere rag and curls his arm protectively in front of Severus' frame, pushing him slightly backwards in order to place himself between the Slytherin and the appalled crowd, like a willing human shield.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?  How dare you first insult and then threaten a decorated war hero in my supposed defense?   Who on Earth gave any of you the right to meddle in my private life?  Get the hell out of here!”

“No way!”  Smith growls, sending a positively murderous look towards him over Harry's shoulder and Severus stiffens in reaction to both Harry's growing fury and the horrified look that is beginning to grace most faces in shocked response to the seeker's protective stance.

The mob moves forwards a step, almost as if it has become one single, furious entity and Harry squares his athletic shoulders in the kind of confrontational stance that only drives their anger higher.  Then Smith has the brilliant idea of raising his wand towards them while he attempts to plead with Harry one last time:
“You've got to come with us, Harry.  You can't see what's going on clearly because this son of a bitch has managed to trick you into believing that you love him, but you don't.  You could never love a piece of shit like this, and we're not going to let him get away with whatever he's done to you.”

“I said: GET.  THE.  HELL.  OUT.  OF.  HERE!”  Harry roars, loosing control of his temper to the point were the entire street suddenly feels first unbearably hot and then so frighteningly cold that it seems as if they are being plunged alternatively into a vat of boiling water and then directly into a bucket full of ice.

Sudden horror spreads like wild fire over the stunned crowd and everyone rushes everywhere at once, attempting to run away with uncoordinated gracelessness and ending up trampling one another in their desperate rush to flee from what appears to be a very strong manifestation of uncontrolled magic.

“Harry...”  Severus whispers as soothingly as he can manage, attempting to make himself heard over the increasingly loud screaming coming from the panicked crowd.  “You've got to calm down.  You are frightening these people.”

Harry's shoulder tenses under the steadying hand Severus curls around it, but the messy head that pushes slightly backwards, slotting itself carefully just under his chin does so with relaxed gentleness.
“Don't worry, my prince.  I've got this under control.  I'm just trying to shake them up a bit.”

Severus frowns upon hearing that whispered explanation, only now realizing that those words have been meant for his ears alone and that Harry has not only managed to cast a wandless Muffliatto around them, but is also reacting to a supposedly accidental bout of temper-fueled magic with inexplicable composure.

Looking out towards the rapidly emptying street Severus realizes that no one has shown up yet to manage the panicked crowd.  The aurors have failed to make an appearance and there are no teams of Unspeakables attempting to control the dwindling mayhem.  It feels almost as if all relevant authorities have inexplicably failed to detect a potentially dangerous situation.

“You've done this on purpose?  You paid someone to tip off the Prophet and... staged... this ghastly scene?  You made me go through all of this just to warn people off?  What the hell is wrong with you, Potter?  You've played with them, with me.  You've scared the shit out of everyone!”

“Severus...”

Harry turns hastily around and tries to grab him by the arm, but he's simply faster than the brat.  He turns on his heel with a scowl that drips disgust and enters his shop in a thoroughly irritated huff.  He'd have banged the front door closed on the little bastard's face if the seeker hadn't been practically glued to his heels.

“You've got to listen to me, sweetheart.”

“You just played me like a goddamned violin, Potter.  You've turned a perfectly pleasant morning into one of my worst nightmares, just to make your bloody point.  I'm done with being the clueless puppet of every powerful wizard I come across.  I may have been Albus' disposable pawn, but I most certainly don't want to become yours.”

“Severus, please...”

“I won't let you use me like that.  I just—I can't.”  His voice cracks at that point with the most shameful fragility and he can't keep on talking.  He can't keep on looking at the contrite expression that is darkening Harry's lovely gaze, either.  He can't stand the thought that he's been used like this again by someone he'd been learning to trust.

“I didn't play you.  I swear I did not put you through any of this on purpose, Severus.  I didn't betray your trust in any way, and I resent your accusation that I've lowered myself to tip off The Prophet about us.  I admit that I've been planing my reaction to this sort of situation for a while, but I neither staged that awful article nor Zach's disgusting speech.  I didn't conjure that furious mob out of thin air, my Prince.  It decided to came to your doorstep all by itself.  The only thing I really did was react.”

Severus has always been able to tell when the brat is lying to him.  Harry's Occlumency skills are simply abysmal and he never fails to wear his irritating natural rebelliousness plastered all over his expression, like a proudly displayed banner.  This time, though, there is no rebelliousness of any kind flashing in the depths of Harry's wide-eyed gaze.  He looks terrified and frantic, as sincere as any man could be.

“But you just told me that you wanted to scare them.  That display out there wasn't accidental at all.  You were obviously in control of your magic, Harry.  You cast whatever the hell that was on purpose.”

“Yes, I did.  But I didn't do it to try to manipulate anyone, least of all you, my love.  I am a very powerful wizard, Severus, and my magic is unfortunately tied to my emotions.  Only Merlin knows what I could have cast if I had lost control for real.  I could have caused serious damage if I hadn't been preparing myself to deal with this kind of situation over the last few weeks.”

“But neither the Aurors nor the Unespeakables showed up. That was a potential disaster in the making.  I can't believe they'd disregard that sort of mob-like behavior just because it was centered around my shop and, even if they are that unprofessional, they should have begun to Apparate here en-masse as soon as your magical signature showed up in their scans.”

Harry smiles self-deprecatingly and dares to approach him one slow step at a time, until he is finally able to curl a slightly shaking arm around his waist in a move that seems to be geared more towards anchoring himself than to trap Severus in an embrace.
“What can I say?  I've got friends in high places.  Ron is the head of the Auror department and Hermione pretty much runs the Unespeakables, even though she is only supposed to be the director of their research team.  Having a close personal relationship with the Minister of Magic hasn't hurt me, either.”

“Are you implying that they overlooked this situation on purpose?  How could they have done such a thing?  You just told me you didn't plan any of it.”

“I didn't.  I swear.  But I've put a lot of effort into trying to predict what could happen once our relationship became public.  I'm pants at planning, Severus, you know that.  I can follow other people's directions well enough and put the necessary power behind a spell but, other than that, I'm pretty useless in a battle-like situation.

"I've always been more soldier than general, but I wasn't going to hide behind that excuse and risk you getting hurt by my crazy fans, so I went to my friends.  The hex I cast was Hermione's handiwork and Ron came up with the sorts of reactions I should portray, depending on which one of the multiple scenarios we envisioned played out in the end. They've been helping me train to deal with all sorts of mock situations so that, when the time finally arrived, I'd be able to react in the most advantageous way to benefit us.”

Severus blinked.  Impressed, despite himself, by the trio's thoughtful plotting.
“That's almost Slytherin of you.”

For some reason the comment makes Harry laugh softly under his breath and those gorgeous emerald eyes look right into his own with the kind of pleading look that he doubts even the Dark Lord would have managed to resist.

“You are not mad at me anymore, are you?  I understand why you were so upset, but... I'm not Albus Dumbledore, Severus.  I'd have told you what I was planning, if you'd done what I expected you to do and remained inside the shop.”

Severus fidgets uncomfortably.
“I've never been one for hiding, Harry.  I—Draco asked me to head back home and stay out of the way, but that's just not something I'm used to doing.  I've never had anyone coming to my rescue before and I honestly wasn't expecting you to show up, so I tried to deal with the situation by myself.”

Harry shakes his dark head from left to right and sighs despairingly, bringing his other arm to join the limb that he's already curled around Severus' slender waist, embracing his love loosely.
“You are way too brave for your own good, my Prince.  I keep trying to predict what you'd do by reminding myself that you are a Slytherin and always end up miscalculating your actions because I keep forgetting that you can't be classed as one.

“I think Dumbledore was right: you were miss-sorted into your house, Severus.  When Draco Floo-called the stadium and mentioned that he'd asked you to head back home, I called him an idiot.  I told him that you had probably stayed here out of stubbornness, but I never imagined you were reckless enough to confront a mob alone.  I think my heart stopped altogether when Draco suddenly turned deathly pale and told me he'd just felt the front door of the shop open from the inside.”

“I'm surprised he didn't come with you, then.”

“Oh, he wanted to, but I tasked him with alerting Ron and Hermione of what was happening, in case things got really ugly.  They would have shown up here in a flash if we'd needed them.  Your decision to confront our detractors forced me into putting our plan in motion before I had the time to explain everything to you, but I think it succeeded, despite the rush.

“Ron believes that a small and slightly frightening reminder of how magically unpredictable I can be when someone riles me up will make most people think twice before trying to attack you when you are alone, and the rest... Only time will convince everyone of our commitment to one another.  But I'd be more willing to be patient with the public's general idiocy if I can be reasonably certain that no one will try to harm you while they come to terms with our relationship.”

Severus huffed, more than a little bit miffed by the fact that the fucking Golden Trio and the Minister of Magic, himself, had conspired to protect him as if he were some sort of fragile little maiden.
“I don't need anyone to charge to my rescue like a bloody knight in shining armor.  I am a master of the Dark Arts.  I was a Death Eater for twenty miserably long years.  I survived the viciousness of the Dark Lord's inner circle without anybody's help.  I'm not some ridiculously useless little princess in need of saving, Potter.“

A soft kiss lands right above the stiff collar of his robe like a delicate apology and Severus feels the unexpected sweetness of that devoted contact burn him clear to the bone.
“I know you can defend yourself, my clever, courageous Prince.  But I want—No.  I need to protect you, too.  You are not alone any more.  You are a part of me now.  You've become a part of my family, whether you like it or not.  You are an honorary Weasley now and the fourth member of the Golden Trio. This is what being half of a couple feels like, Severus, and I'm not going to apologize for my need to come to your aid.

“I will come to your rescue every time I think you're in danger, even though I realize that you probably don't need me to do so.  I will come not because I believe you to be incapable of dealing with whoever tries to harm you, but because I need to be here, fighting off those who threaten you too.  I will come because whoever tries to harm you will end up harming me.  You are not alone anymore, sweetheart.  You are my partner now, and I'd be damned to hell and back before I let you face our enemies all by yourself, my love.”

 

TBC...

( Chapter 15 )

( Chapter 17 )