The Most Difficult Of All Our Tasks

Chapter the twentieth – Playacting



Harry had considered, at odd moments, whether or not to push the Ministry to allow him an early divorce, but, somehow, his stomach always knotted into a hard ball of misery at the thought. Right now, however, his stomach was hard knot of apprehension as he sat at the teachers’ table surveying the students arranged at the four House tables. He shivered slightly as the hall was cold. It always was immediately after the holidays before the vast numbers of bodies warmed the stone work.



“And finally,” Minerva McGonagall said, cutting into Harry’s nervous meditation, “sadly Professor Snape – Potter is unable to be with us this term, but we are very lucky to have Professor Potter – Snape in his place. Professor!” She turned to him, a hand extended in an invitation to speak, but it was quite impossible for him to do so; firstly, he felt sure that if he opened his mouth he would be sick, and secondly, the hall had erupted into thunderous applause at his introduction. After all, he was famous for the defeat of Voldemort, and infamous for his marriage to another man.



Finally the tumult died down, and Harry, although feeling like he was standing in jelly, stood up.



“Thank you, Professor,” he began, voice a little quiet, but gradually gaining in confidence as he relaxed, “and thank you all for that warm welcome. Professor Snape – Potter has left clear information about where each group is in their course of study, and I will, of course, ensure that neither you nor he is disappointed with the progress you make.” He paused, eyes thoughtful. “Do not assume that I am a push over, do not assume that you know me, or what I am like. You may find yourselves very upset at having misjudged me, especially when you serve your detentions. Thank you.”



He sat down, and fought to keep the smile from tugging at the side of his mouth.



“A most Slytherin speech,” Professor Longbottom observed as he leaned in towards Harry. “I’m impressed, or is he rubbing off on you?”



Harry turned surprised eyes to Neville. The other smiled warmly. “Don’t smile yet, Harry,” Neville warned, “some of the kids are still watching you. Try and make them think I’m scared of you, yeah?”



Harry glared at the other and asked in a falsely menacing voice, “Do you usually sit here? Next to Sev?”



Neville, for the watching audience, looked shocked before he responded, “Not usually. After all, there’s only such much of the man I can take. I admit he’s a brilliant potions maker, but he used to scare me shitless!”



Harry suppressed a smile with difficulty, remembering the Boggart. He leaned in towards the other as though threatening him. “So why are you sitting here now?”



Neville gasped (purely for his audience) before muttering back, “It’s been forever since I last saw you, Harry. And so much has happened to you. I wanted to make sure you were, you know, still you.”



“You mean,” Harry said, forgetting about play acting, “you wondered how much that bastard had changed me?”



Neville looked deeply unhappy. “Well…. Yes.” He admitted. “Sorry.” He added.



Harry shrugged. “Don’t be. I wonder it myself sometimes.”



Neville gave a small nod of understanding before turning his attention to the excellent pudding in front of him.



At his side, Harry stared off into the distance, wondering about Severus. Is he all right? He pondered as Neville dug into his sticky toffee pudding. Then: Has he changed me?



***



“Bloody Gryffindors!” Harry exploded as he came through the fireplace two weeks later.



Severus, lying down in their room, smiled to himself. How often had he uttered those words, especially during Harry’s time at Hogwarts?



He got up awkwardly. Despite being only three months pregnant, the bump seemed to get bigger every minute, and was already quite a hindrance. He waddled (Severus would have said he walked) down to meet Harry.



“Problem?” He asked mildly as Harry, clearly uptight, paced the living room with quick, angry steps.



“They only decided to have a potions fight in the classroom. In MY classroom! The little shits!”



Severus looked frighteningly dangerous, his eyes glinting, as he queried, “A potions fight?”



“Yes!” Harry paced around the room, his wand emitting dangerous red sparks, “They thought I was a soft touch. Bastards!”



Severus pulled a face at the other’s sudden explosion of noise. “The boys,” he began, but Harry, still striding, still sparking, cut across him.



“They thought I’d go easy on my old house. They thought I would see the funny side. Stupid pricks! Well, I wonder how funny they thought it when I took every last house point they had, and yelled at them, then sent them to Minerva to yell at them, then gave them detentions.”



Severus was impressed at his husband’s thoroughness. “What will they do in detention?” he asked quietly, hoping to calm the other man slightly.



Harry gave a nasty smile. “Firstly, they have to clear up all the mess their little fight caused, without magic, then they have to write a twelve inch essay for EACH ingredient they used in their potion,” Severus winced slightly but Harry continued, “After that I said I’d ask you to come to the school and they could explain to you what they’d done.” Harry laughed suddenly, “Oh Sev! You should have seen them. I swear one kid actually went green! How I kept a straight face I don’t know.”



The older man noticed that Harry had stopped pacing, so he sidled up to him and put a strong arm around the other’s middle. “I think you did very well,” he breathed, his mouth close by Harry’s ear. “Now, if you’ve finished teaching our sons lots of rude words, perhaps you could suggest that we go to bed, especially as Mycroft might wake up soon?”



Harry fixed his gaze on his partner. “Hmmm, I think we could manage that. Top or bottom?”



Severus licked Harry’s neck. “Whatever you want, remember?”



Harry frowned, not that the older man could see it, “No, Severus, what do you want?”



Irritated that the mood was being ruined, Severus growled, “Either’s fine.” He waited for Harry to speak but when the other didn’t he went on, “Our Bonding Agreement is very clear, Harry, you decide. If I take you when you wanted to take me, I lose everything – the marriage is over, and every penny I have is yours. So no, Harry, it’s not whatever I want. It’s whatever you want.”



“Well,” Harry said crossly, pulling free of the other, “right now I don’t even want you near me.”



Severus left the room without any further comment.



Stupid, stubborn sod! We both wanted sex, so what went wrong? Can’t he just enjoy that, without rubbing my nose in our Agreement? Stupid man!



It was a week later (and a sex-less week at that) that, over one of their tense evening meals, Severus shared with his husband the idea he’d been mulling over.



“A portrait? Of the family?” Harry asked in confusion.



Severus had been thinking about it for a week and therefore had all the positive points ready:



“Yes. One, it’ll be there to show the boys we are one family, that neither is more our son than the other. Two, as there is a painting of me at Hogwarts, should I need you urgently, or you me, it will be very quick to send a message. Three, there aren’t really any pictures of you in the house. It’s like you’re a visitor here.” He held up his hand to forestall Harry’s argument, “I know you’re only in this for the three years, but the boys shouldn’t know that, nor this one,” he pointed to his swelling belly, “otherwise it’ll adversely affect their relationships with you.”



The younger man was silent for a long time. “How are magical paintings done?” He queried.



Severus explained that the process was like sitting for a Muggle painting. Magical inks were used which imbued the canvas and its images with some semblance of thought and action. Harry nodded throughout, brows furrowed. A thought struck him.



“What about those ones of you and Albus? At Hogwarts, I mean? Neither you nor he sat for them, they just appeared.”



“True enough. But Hogwarts is a school steeped in magic. I don’t quite understand how the Head teachers’ portraits are created, I think Love magic has something to do with it.” Before Harry could echo “Love Magic?” in confusion, the older man explained, “A head teacher at Hogwarts must, almost by definition, love the school and what it stands for. I think, in repayment for that love, the school ensures each head teacher is immortalised through the paintings.”



Harry looked unconvinced, but couldn’t really argue with the logic, having no idea how the paintings might have been formed otherwise.



“This has been a nice side excursion,” Severus said, before commenting dryly, “and you’ve had time to formulate any objections to the idea. Well?”



But, to his surprise, his husband gave a swift nod. “I think it’s a lovely idea. So long as we have another one done once that one’s born too, we don’t want him or her to feel left out.”



Caught off guard by Harry’s acquiescence and thoughtfulness, the Potions expert only managed, “Right. I’ll … er …. arrange it then.”



***



Harry flushed when, two weeks later, the finished canvas was collected by Severus and brought to the house. In it, he and his husband were fucking like bunnies against the edge of the frame whilst the boys slept.



“God! Sev!” He yelped. “Why are we doing that?!”



Severus had already been smiling gently, now he grinned at the shocked look on Harry’s face before prodding the two figures to make them stop and behave. Miniature Severus glared up at his counterpart, whilst mini Harry panted, blushed, and tried to cover himself up.



“I told you, the figures have some semblance of thought and actions. Clearly this is what we think about most!”



Harry acknowledged the truth of that statement. “Even so, we can’t have them doing that, not if the boys, the real boys, might see it!”



“I’ll deal with it.”



--Does anyone else find the idea of a mini Snape too cute for words?

-- I'd got this chapter all sorted - they were gonna screw when harry got home, but nooooo they had to have a fight instead. Stupid men! Oh, BTW, it's your call who you think is thinking "Stupid, stubborn sod..." I deliberately left it ambiguous. *rubs hands in glee* SP