Entry tags:

au: magic, fic, rated: pg-13

Making Changes, for carpet_diemon
Title: Making Changes
Author: inoru_no_hoshi
Giftee: carpet_diemon
Word Count: ~2,025
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Severus/Harry
Warnings: Non-HBP/DH compliant, under-18, slight OOC.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros., et al. No monetary gain is being made from this; I write for fun.
Summary: Albus is meddling again, and Severus is distinctly Not Happy...for a while, anyway.
Notes: This...isn't what I originally was working on for you. But my original attempt stuck its metaphorical tongue out at me and hid behind a huge, looming forest of writer's block. However, I hope you like it anyway, since I had rather a lot of fun trying for a humorous angle to this plotline. :D
Also, massive thanks to the mods for the extension earlier this month. You two are absolutely AWESOME.

****

Severus had never been much of a morning person, and was still less so before his first cuppa of the day. (There is a running theory amongst the rest of the staff that his snarkiness can be calculated in direct ratio to how much tea he had before he officially began the day, but none of them had managed to unequivocally prove or disprove it.)

It didn't help anything to be woken up at just past five by Albus's voice from the Floo. For Merlin's sake, didn't the barmy old coot know that rising before the sun was cruel and unusual punishment? What had he done to deserve it?

"Good morning, Severus," Albus greeted the moment he entered the headmaster's office. "Lemon drop?"

Severus's reply was impolite to the point of being physically impossible.

"No? Tea, then?"

He practically lunged at the proffered cup. The slight flurry settled down to Severus slightly hunched in a chair, nursing the cup of Earl Gray, and Albus twinkling at him from behind the rather monstrous desk.

"How are you this fine morning?" the headmaster asked once Severus's cup had been emptied, filled, and half-emptied again.

"The sun has yet to rise, Albus, therefore it is not morning," was the Potions Master's dull reply. "Therefore there is nothing fine about it, as any sane person would still be abed."

Albus sipped at his own cuppa, eyes twinkling with amusement. "So you say, dear boy."

Severus ignored his patronising tone of voice, and refilled his cup. "Might I inquire why you have me up at this god-forsaken hour? And if you say it's merely to chat, I shan't be responsible for my subsequent actions," he warned darkly.

"What a lovely suggestion," Albus said merrily. When Severus growled, looking rather like he would like to go for his wand, he added, "But you are quite correct. I have a request to make of you."

"Then ask, so I may return to bed for an hour or so."

"Tell me, Severus, would you like to marry Harry?"

The headmaster's sense of timing always had been rather off (or completely on, depending on your point of view), and as such, he'd asked exactly at the moment Severus had taken a drink of his tea.

Answering the question took the back seat to clearing his airway, and then mopping up the spilled tea.

*

The conversation lasted for rather longer than Severus had expected, though he rather felt that he should have learned not to expect anything where Albus was concerned, and as such he never did get back to bed.

He left the headmaster's office in a foul mood, hoping against hope that the coot would end up choking on one of his beloved lemon drops between then and that evening.

But as the chances of that actually happening were disgustingly low, he spent the day in a towering rage.

He even took points from Slytherin, much to the collective shock of the school.

(He was forced to admit, if only to himself, that Potter had surprisingly good self-preservational instincts, as the boy had taken one look at his face that morning in Potions and had done his best not to aggravate the man's temper. He had been tempted to give points for actually showing a brain. Luckily, he had enough of a handle on his temper and sanity that he didn't.

(Though, thinking about it, it would have been hilarious to see the look on Minerva's face if he had...)

*

He was still in something of a foul mood when he stepped into Albus's office for the second time that day. Though he had expected it, seeing Potter waiting in one of the chairs made him scowl darkly.

He sat in one of the others, and proceeded to positively glower at the current bane of his existence. No, not Potter, as surprising as it was to say. Dumbledore.

"Good of you to come, Severus," Albus said, irrepressibly cheerful and apparently totally immune to the fact that Severus was rather hoping he'd drop dead where he sat. "Now, we're simply waiting for Minerva, Filius, and the Ministry official. Tea?"

Severus snarled something distinctly unprintable, making the headmaster chuckle and Potter to arch a shocked eyebrow at him.

"Black with two sugars, of course," Albus continued merrily, levitating the cup over to the Potions teacher. "And Harry... a dash of cream and a dollop of honey, correct?"

"Yes, sir," the boy agreed, sounding somewhat long-suffering.

The headmaster floated a second cup over to the waiting teen, then stood up. "Excuse me for a moment, gentlemen."

As the old man swept out the door, Severus pondered the viability of a tripping jinx.

*

Having decided - reluctantly - that a tripping jinx would accomplish nothing, Severus sat and sipped at his tea in a manner that could almost be called sulking.

"Sorry about this, sir," Potter said suddenly, sounding rather sheepish. "I didn't think he'd take an off the wall suggestion I made so seriously. Or, you know, that he'd pull you into it."

"Your suggestion?" he queried, frowning.

"Well, it does solve a few things, even if I only mentioned it in passing."

"Might I inquire as to what sort of things it solves?"

"Er, well..." Potter hesitated, then set his teacup on the headmaster's desk and dug a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "Here."

Severus took it with only a modicum of suspicion. He figured that Potter wouldn't dare try anything in the Headmaster's office.

After he read it, all he said was, "I always knew your father was stupid."

Potter shrugged, not denying it. "Mum left me a note with it saying that Dad had been drunk, though that didn't excuse it, and that she hexed him but good." He offered a photograph to Severus. "See?"

Severus couldn't help snorting in amusement. "He had that coming."

*

When Albus returned, trailing Minerva, Filius, and the Ministry official like a bunch of ducklings following their mother, Severus was in a slightly better mood. Only slightly. He still wanted to get revenge on Albus in some manner; it simply wouldn't do to take this whole thing laying down.

But it was very, very hard to remain in a funk after seeing James Potter hexed to look like a Muggle play-bunny, female assets and all.

"I see you haven't managed to kill one another," Albus commented, twinkling away at them. "How marvelous."

On the other hand, it was very, very hard not to hex that damn twinkle. He wondered if scalding tea would do the trick...?

"Come, come, my dear boys," Albus went on, still seemingly oblivious to Severus's plotting, "I'm sure you wish to have this whole thing over with."

Though that was, indeed, true, Severus saw no reason to confirm it blatantly. So he stood slowly, sneering at everyone else in the room, and set his now-empty teacup on the headmaster's desk with a light, but emphatic, thump.

"Very well," he said silkily.

Albus had the nerve to twinkle at him. Blasted coot.

*

Luckily for Severus's sanity, Albus had chosen one of the older, but quicker ceremonies designed for weddings. Within ten minutes, he was scratching out his signature on the marriage certificate that the Ministry official provided.

He stepped back to let Potter - Harry now, he supposed - sign as well, and folded his arms impatiently.

Potter - Harry - finished quickly, which he supposed shouldn't surprise him, having seen the usual state of the boy's penmanship.

Minerva and Filius, as witnesses, signed next, then Albus stepped up and scrawled his loopy signature, and then finally the Ministry official - whom Severus was sure had an actual name, but who could be bothered learning it? - looked it over and notarized it.

"Congratulations on your nuptials, gentlemen," the official said, voice sounding both dry and papery thin, which Severus inanely thought was rather an accomplishment.

"I daresay," Severus snarked in reply. A snort from Pot--Harry's direction made him glance over, but the boy appeared remarkably composed, so he decided he must have imagined it.

The official was, apparently, not stupid, and Severus was satisfied to see the man's cheeks color faintly. "Well," he said, shifting nervously, "I had best go an file this. Regulations and all, you know."

"Quite right, Hallam," Albus agreed. "Off you go."

As the man left, Severus found himself thinking, Ah. So that's his name...

*

Before he'd quite registered everything that had happened, Severus found himself leading Pott--Harry into his quarters. He wondered whether it was too late to either A) off himself, or B) off Albus, because there was something intrinsically wrong about a Gryffindor being in his quarters.

His mind helpfully reminded him that Minerva was a Gryffindor, and that she had been in his quarters before, if only to the sitting room. He told it to shut up unless it had something helpful to add.

He turned around after shutting the door, and noticed that Pott--Harry was looking rather thoughtful.

"Not what you expected?" he asked, sneering, as he made a beeline for the twenty-year-old brandy he'd been saving for a special occasion. He figured this was about as special as it got. (The fact that if he got drunk, there was a strong possibility that he wouldn't have to even think about consummating their marriage was no never mind.)

"Actually, I think it fits you," Po--Harry replied, still disgustingly mild about everything. Where had the brat's renowned temper gone? To the Caribbean? "I was just wondering whether I should've warned the headmaster that you're likely plotting his demise to be as painful or embarrassing as possible."

After a moment of startled silence, Severus said, "Why not both?"

Harry conceded the point graciously.

*

It has been said (or perhaps it hasn't, but the point is actually quite irrelevant) that alcohol can make the best of friends or the worst of enemies.

For Severus and Harry, a snifter or so of finely aged brandy smoothed the way to the waiting bed. Severus was a little amused by how much Harry relaxed under so small amount of alcohol, and thus managed to surprise himself by being the one to suggest that they adjourn to the bedroom.

Not that Harry argued, which made him wonder for the nth time just why - and moreover, how - the boy was so blasted calm about the day's happenings, though the thought was kind of distant, what with a veil of alcohol pulled over it and all.

He shrugged it off, determined to show that he could be calm about this, too, and set his half-empty glass aside, stood up, and led the boy into his bedroom.

A glance back prompted a rather random observation that the two half-empty glasses looked rather cosy together on the table, with the firelight refracting rather charmingly through them.

Then the bedroom door closed behind them, and other thoughts took precedence.

*

Thoughts like how he hadn't realized that Harry wasn't actually tan - who knew the boy was almost as pale as he himself was? (Though honesty forced him to admit that it looked much better on Harry than on himself.)

Or how responsive Harry proved to be to his touch, gasps and moans falling from his lips like a warm spring rain.

The fact that he was a virgin, and honestly didn't seem to mind that it was Severus changing that fact.

The way it felt to slowly slide into Harry's waiting body, with Harry's slight hands gripping at his shoulders like he was the only thing real. (Maybe he was, but who could be bothered to really think, under the circumstances?)

Or the way he realized, as he pushed himself slightly away from Harry for better leverage, that maybe Harry hadn't been expecting to end up with Severus...

...but he had hoped for it.

*

And then, as he cast cleaning charms and pulled the blankets over himself and Harry, and began drifting towards sleep, he realized that maybe this whole married to the Boy-Who-Lived thing wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Who would have guessed?

**Fini**