The ends of Severus' lips twitched. In a strange way, this was almost amusing. "No, it's all right. The detentions are going well . . . ." He couldn't bring himself to use the familiar 'Ron', so he just let the entire issue pass. "I've three students scheduled for daily detentions for the remainder of the year. As Potter recently pointed out, I'll be up to my ears in chopped slugs for some time to come."
"The remainder of the year! Poor sods. Even we didn't rate detention for a full year," Ron said.
Severus met Weasley's horrified gaze and pointed out, "Only because I failed to catch you."
"Tough luck, that," Harry laughed beside him, not even trying to deny the accusation.
Hermione joined Harry's laughter and after a moment, so did Weasley.
"It's different now that we're teachers, Ron," Hermione said.
Before she could finish whatever she was about to say, Severus lamented, "Yes, now that Minerva's seen fit to employ the pair of you, I can no longer deduct house points when I catch you in the corridors after curfew."
"He did try to deduct points the other night when I kept him waiting," Harry mock-complained to his two chuckling friends.
Severus debated the wisdom of what he was about to say, and then decided to say it anyway. The Weasleys were both adults. They'd simply have to deal with it. "As I recall, you ended up earning house points in the end for your efforts in that particular instance."
Potter, who'd been sipping his beer, sputtered it out all over the table and turned bright red. Ron didn't seem to get his meaning at first – no great surprise, that – but Hermione took one look at Harry and doubled over, shaking with laughter. After another moment, Ron's eyes widened and his cheeks turned as crimson as his Auror robes.
Think what he might of the man's intelligence, Weasley was no coward. Though still blushing furiously, Ron met his gaze and challenged in what no doubt passed for an innocent tone in Gryffindor Tower, "I didn't think you gave out house points to anyone but Slytherins."
"While it's true I do have a tendency to favour my own house, I have been known to reward the members of other houses for, shall we say, extraordinary . . . performance. Believe me, Potter earned every point that night."
The shocked silence at the table was complete, and for a heartbeat, Severus worried he might have gone too far, but then Harry muttered a stunned sounding, "And to think I was worried about us offending your sensibilities," and all three were laughing again.
The laughter eventually calmed and Hermione changed the subject to the upcoming Yule festivities at Hogwarts. As Harry leaned in to the table so that he could hear what she had to say on the progress of Hagrid's costume, Severus could feel Ronald Weasley's thoughtful gaze upon him.
Meeting those openly curious blue eyes, Severus raised an enquiring brow and waited. He needn't have been at the lakeside discussion Harry had had with this man at dawn earlier in the week to know that Weasley didn't approve of their relationship. He'd expected open hostility from this quarter. The wary tolerance he'd received so far tonight was startling, to say the least.
Weasley regarded him for a moment longer and then leaned forward to say in a low tone that wouldn't carry even so far as to where Hermione and Harry were chatting next to them, "We really don't know you at all, do we?"
"That's hardly surprising. It isn't as if we ever had anything in common."
Ron gave a meaningful look to Severus' left, where Potter sat. "We do now, though."
"So it would appear," Severus agreed, trying not to blush. It was strange. He could boldly insinuate the sexual link he'd forged with Potter without a second thought, but now that Weasley was challenging him on emotional ground, he was unsure of himself.
"Hey, I'm going to get us all another round and see if I can hunt down some crisps. Do you want anything other than a drink?" Harry asked with a soft touch to Severus' sleeve.
"No, that will be fine. Thank you," Severus answered. He tried to keep his face schooled, for he could feel not only Ron and Hermione's gazes upon him, but other patrons' as well.
"Wait up, Harry," Hermione called getting up fast. "I'll let you blaze a trail through the crowd. The ladies' is over that way. Be back in a second."
Potter paused, staring down at Severus. "Will you be all right?"
"All right?" Severus echoed, not understanding.
"He means all right alone with me," Ron explained. "We'll be fine, Harry."
With a pointed look Weasley's way, Harry headed out into the busy pub, Hermione trailing behind him.
"He's pretty special, huh?" Weasley said once the others of their party were out of earshot.
Severus considered his responses, and then asked with thinly veiled amusement, "Is this where you tell me if I hurt him, you'll kill me? Or perhaps quiz me on my intentions?"
Weasley chuckled and gave a slow shake of his head. "No."
"No?" Severus tried to hide his surprise.
"I figure Harry's got to mean something to you if you're willing to make nice with us for his sake," Weasley shocked him by saying.
Deciding to lay his cards on the table, Severus held Weasley's gaze and admitted, "I was somewhat surprised by your forbearance as well."
"He means something to me, too," Weasley countered. "Do you think we can do this?"
"This?"
"Play nice – for his sake?" Weasley questioned. "It seems to mean a lot to him that we try."
"We've managed so far," Severus pointed out.
"Yes, but you've barely said a word. That won't last. I can see that all this polite good behaviour is choking you," Weasley said with surprising acuity.
"What are you suggesting?" Severus asked, intrigued.
"I've been watching you with Harry at breakfast this last week. You use insults the way the rest of us use small talk. I'll make a deal with you. If you . . . don't go for Hermione or my jugulars, I'll try to keep my temper and make like Harry wants."
"Why should you? I would think you would do everything in your power to . . . discourage this," Severus said.
"Yeah, I considered it," Weasley admitted with refreshing honesty.
"And?" Severus prodded, not understanding.
Weasley gave a shrug of his wide, athletic shoulders. "I'm not going to be the one to shoot down Harry's dream. He asked me to back him up on this; I'll back him up on it for as long as it lasts."
"Which you don't anticipate being a period of sufficient duration to tax your patience," Severus completed.
Weasley had the grace to appear uncomfortable. "It's not for me to say, is it?"
Weasley's honesty was surprisingly appealing. Severus gave a negative shake of his head in agreement. "No, it's not." Almost of its own accord, his gaze sought Potter out where he stood trying to make his way through the crowd at the bar. His heart constricted when he saw the young, incredibly handsome man with whom Harry was conversing quite intensely. "You are correct in one thing, at any rate – your tolerance won't be tested for very long."
"What?" Weasley's affable face creased with confusion.
"I'm a realist, Mr. Weasley," Severus said, his hand closing around his drink until his knuckles turned white.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Take a look behind you," Severus gestured with his chin to where the handsome blond stranger now had his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I know that my . . . association with Potter has already long out-lasted all reasonable expectation."
Weasley's gaze jumped from the two men at the bar back to Severus' face. Undisguised shock touched Ronald Weasley's features, and then something oddly gentle. "That gormless wonder's name is Michael. He threw Harry over a couple of months ago because he was scared of Harry's power. Just watch them. Harry won't give that bastard the time of day."
Severus was as shocked that Weasley's vocabulary included the word 'gormless' as he was by the encouraging content of the man's words. As Weasley predicted, Harry shook off the handsome man's hand and moved further down the bar to put in their drinks order without looking back.
"A word of advice, Professor?" Weasley asked in an uncertain tone.
Severus stared over at Weasley, not responding to the question. The day he needed to ask a Weasley for advice was the day he'd give himself a lobotomy with his own wand. Still, there was no harm in listening to whatever Potter's oldest friend had to say.
Weasley appeared to take his attention as a silent endorsement to continue, for he quietly offered, "We Gryffindors don't go in much for realism. We tend to view things with our hearts. Forget about that reasonable expectation rubbish. Harry doesn't care about it. All he's interested in is your winning personality."
The sardonic flair Weasley gave those last two words brought an unwilling smile to Severus' lips. "Sarcasm, Weasley?"
"It's you we're talking about here," Weasley shot back with a grin.
"Touché. Outwitted by a Weasley," he said.
Weasley laughed. "If I was as stupid as you always thought I was, would Harry have kept me around all these years?"
Guarding his expression, for all that he wanted to laugh, Severus softly challenged, "What leads you to believe that my opinion of his intelligence has altered in any way?"
For a moment Weasley virtually wavered with uncertainty, and then he threw back his head and howled with laughter.
"Er, is everything all right here?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.
Severus turned to see Potter standing behind him, with a heavily laden tray in his hands and a puzzled expression on his face. Severus couldn't blame him for the last. It was far more reasonable that Potter would have found Weasley and him at each other's throats than laughing together.
Severus took the tray from Harry and placed it on the table.
Weasley choked out, "We were just discussing the relative virtues of reality."
"Realism, Weasley, not reality. There's a bit of a difference," Severus corrected.
"Only to self-indulgent Slytherins," Weasley said.
"Or to anyone with a passing acquaintance with the English language, which definitely leaves you out," Severus quickly retorted.
Apparently, Weasley was as good as his word, for instead of reacting with anger, he only laughed at the insult.
"Did I miss something?" Harry asked as he handed out their drinks.
"Seven years of lessons, but I wouldn't worry too much about it. I'm the only one at this table that will notice," Severus said.
Potter chuckled and countered, "Hermione would notice."
"Notice what?" her voice chimed in behind them on cue.
"I'm not sure," Harry said as she sat down next to Ron. "But I think we've all been insulted. In fact, I'm sure of it. Here, have some crisps."
As easy as that, Potter let the issue go. It was so strange to be part of a group where everyone wasn't jockeying to one-up their neighbour, where an insult was laughed off, instead of topped.
"You found some peanuts," Hermione cried out as though Potter had fought off a Mongol horde for the salted nuts, which, considering the mob surrounding the bar, mightn't be that much of an exaggeration.
Severus watched as his three younger companions stuffed themselves with junk food as though they hadn't eaten in weeks.
A few minutes into the feeding frenzy, Weasley looked over at Potter and said, "I saw Michael talking to you at the bar."
Severus was ridiculously grateful to Weasley for bringing up the topic he hadn't known how to broach. He knew it wasn't any of his business if Potter chose to see other men. He tried to keep his attention on his drink, to not give in to insecurity, but he couldn't help but glance Harry's way to see his reaction to Weasley's inquiry.
It was annoyance, rather than regret or pain that crossed those handsome features. "Yeah, I forgot he comes here on Fridays."
"Are you okay?" Weasley softly questioned.
Harry's arm rose to casually rest across the back of Severus' chair again, just brushing his shoulders. Then Harry turned from Weasley, met Severus' eyes and gave him a quick smile, before looking back at his old friend and saying, "Never better."
Oddly enough, the same could be said for Severus himself at the moment. An alien sensation that he slowly recognized as contentment seemed to seep through him as he lost himself in the somewhat inane conversation of this bizarre permutation of 'meet the parents'.
*~*~*
The warm liquid dripping into his eyes had to be his own blood, Harry decided as a red cloud obscured his vision. Not that there was that much to obscure. The stone floor of his dimly lit cell was filthy and offered little in the way of distraction. Except for the puddles of red, which he'd prefer not to think about.
He lay face down on the dungeon floor, trying hard not to move or think.
Every breath shot a piercing pain through his side. That last kick had broken some ribs, or worse.
But that discomfort was negligible, mostly because the searing agony in his back was claiming his total concentration. The Death Eater who'd wielded that whip had been a true artist. He didn't think he had a square inch of skin left back there.
He froze at the sound he'd been dreading – the squeal of his cell door opening.
They were back.
Harry tried to sit up, but the Death Eaters were upon him before he could move. A pair of the dark-robed figures secured his arms and lifted him up. A third stopped in front of him. All he could see was that featureless white mask. The man's eyes were nothing but black slits.
The Death Eater in front of him reached to grab his balls, giving them a tight, agonizing squeeze before his hands moved around behind Harry to grip his buttocks. Hard fingers dug with bruising force into both his cheeks and lifted.
