Title: a convenient Marriage

Snape nodded briskly. "Fine. I believe I will have a shower before dinner, then."

He left the room and Harry slumped into a chair, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair and trying not to think about the night. He'd been frankly relieved when Snape had left him alone after their one encounter on their wedding night, but he supposed it had been too much to hope that Snape had found it equally dissatisfying. He sighed; there wasn't anything he could do after all, so there was no point in worrying about it.

Talk at dinner was strained, both of them conscious of the plans for later that evening. Harry found himself feeling nostalgic for that first week after their wedding. With both of them home for the hols, they had fallen into the habit of taking meals together as well as sharing quiet evenings in front of the fire in the sitting room. Snape had an amazing range of knowledge about both the Wizard and Muggle world, and Harry had enjoyed talking with him. Harry grinned; well, actually, their talking had more like debating, but they'd both enjoyed the exercise and he'd found that Snape was much more tolerable as a person than a teacher.

He was thinking about some of those conversations when Snape cleared his throat, he looked up at the man uncertainly.

"I was sorry to hear England won't be in the World Cup this year," Snape said, and Harry couldn't help smiling. It was obvious that Snape was trying to make polite conversation, something he was patently unskilled at doing. "Madam Hooch tells me that there is talk about retiring the current Seeker, to make way for you as reserve Seeker. She says that if their reserve had been playing against Brazil, England would have won."

Harry shrugged. "Not necessarily. Eloise is very good, and she has much more experience than I do. We had too many injuries this year."

"Too much modesty is just as great a fault as too little, Pot - Harry."

"It's not modesty," Harry objected. "I know I'm good, but playing professional Quidditch is a lot different from the school team. I still have a lot to learn and...." He hesitated and then looked over at Snape. "I'm not entirely sure that I want to keep playing Quidditch when my contract expires this fall."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? I thought this was a life dream."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. I mean, it's fun and I enjoy playing, but it doesn't feel...real, somehow. It's like I'm just wasting my time." He sighed. "That sounds stupid, I know - "

"No, it doesn't," Snape said quietly. "Harry, you're young, and you have your whole life in front of you. If Quidditch isn't what you feel passionate about, you should find something else that stirs your blood."

"Like you with potions, and Hermione with Minority Rights? Maybe. It's not like I have to make a decision today." The corner of Harry's mouth quirked up in a smile. "But thanks."

Both returned their attention to their plates. Harry realized his appetite had completely deserted him and he pushed back from the table. "Well, I think I'll get washed up and, um, prepared," he said, standing up. Snape didn't look up, just nodded, and Harry fled upstairs.

He debated wearing the nightshirt again, then decided it made him feel too silly. Pyjamas would do just as well; he'd remove the bottoms when necessary. He had just finished buttoning the shirt when a tap on the door made his heart jump. He hurriedly got into bed and called out for Snape to enter.

As before, Snape put out the lights after getting into bed, prepared him with a spell, then coaxed him to hardness before entering. Harry found it wasn't quite as strange or uncomfortable as the previous time, although he still failed to see what anyone could get out of being fucked up the arse. It was obvious what Snape got out of it. Harry could hear him breathing like a racehorse as he plunged in and out of Harry's body, and the shudders that shook his body as he climaxed were obvious indicators that he'd enjoyed himself.

Snape dutifully brought Harry off with his hand, but Harry felt oddly unsatisfied even as he floated down from a climax that was much better than the ones he got with his own hand. Not Snape's fault - there was obviously something abnormal about Harry. He lay silently in the bed, feigning sleep, as Snape cleaned them both up with a spell, and he pretended not to notice when the other man slipped out of the room shortly after that.

Chapter 6

Snape was gone in the morning, leaving behind a message that he was expecting some seedlings to arrive in a few weeks and would Harry endeavour not to destroy or lose them.

Harry refused to be annoyed by either the abrupt desertion or the message. This was his house, too, and if Snape thought he was going to just sit around twiddling his thumbs, he had another think coming. Instead, he planned to take the wind out of the man's sails by planting the damn things and planting them right. Seven years of herbology had taught him a lot, and what he didn't know, he could owl Professor Sprout or Neville and ask.

He'd found the plans for the garden in the library, and none of the plantings appeared difficult or dangerous. The beds were easy to prepare since the soil was already richly fertilized, so it was just a matter of turning the soil and waiting for the plants to arrive. It was actually quite enjoyable, digging in the rich earth of the garden. His favourite time was the early morning when the whole world seemed to be asleep, and the faint morning chill didn't bother him as he worked. Harry found he was spending a lot of his free time working there. It easier to think, somehow, with a shovel in his hand, and he wondered if Snape would mind if he planted a vegetable garden, too, next year. He'd have to talk with Molly Weasley first, and get some ideas of what would be best to plant.

Two weeks after Snape's departure, the seedlings arrived. Harry separated them and began planting them in the various beds, making careful notes in a ledger he'd found as to the date planted, type of plant, and other pertinent information. He was just about through with the last bed when a sharp voice startled him.

"Potter, what in bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

Harry looked around to see Snape glaring at him, and he smirked a little. "Planting seedlings. Want to help?"

"Idiot! Do you have the slightest idea what you're doing?" Snape snapped.

"As a matter of fact," Harry said, standing up and wiping his hands on an old rag. "I do. I found your plans for the garden in the library. I've kept a careful record of what I planted, where I planted it, and when I planted it. And despite your opinion of my intelligence, I did quite well in herbology. Besides, Neville helped with the few questions I had."

Snape went white. "Longbottom? Here? In my garden?"

Harry grinned. "Actually, he was too busy to come by. Apparently, it's their busy time of year at the Botanicals. But he said he'd drop by in a week or two and see how I'm getting on." Snape appeared to be torn between relief that Neville hadn't been there, and worry about his impending visit. "I'm sorry if I spoiled your fun."

Snape shrugged. "Actually, I don't particularly enjoy the planting process, although I've done it in years past. The house-elves generally tend to the plants afterward, although I harvest them myself."

"I'll tend them," Harry offered. "It's not like I have a lot to occupy my time these days with the team on break."

Snape cocked his head. "That's likely to change, is it not? Madam Hooch tells me that retirement appears possible for your Seeker."

Harry shrugged. "Even so, we won't start training till after the Cup. And - I like working in the garden. It gives me time to think."

"Then by all means, continue to do so," Snape said. "Anything that enhances that process is to be encouraged."

Harry gave him a one-fingered salute and headed towards the tool shed to put away his gardening equipment. "So, what brings you here? Exams are in two weeks - was the general craziness too much for you, or did you just come here to harass your gardener?" Snape flushed slightly, looking away, and Harry suddenly knew.

"Oh. Right -it's been a month, hasn't it?" He managed a partial smile. "Regular as clock-work, you are."

Snape cleared his throat. "You needn't...if it is distasteful..."

Harry sighed. "Look, we both know that you saved me from that bastard Malfoy. If the price I have to pay is rolling over for you once a month, I think I can manage. I'm well aware that I'd be worse off with him."

There were two spots of colour on Snape's cheeks and he said harshly, "That's hardly an enticing invitation, Potter."

"It's the only one on offer, isn't it?" Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "I've got to shower and then I'll join you for dinner, all right?" Without waiting for Snape's reply, he went into the house and upstairs.

Dinner was another quiet meal. Snape was clearly on edge after their previous discussion, and Harry tried desperately to think of something to say, and recalled a conversation he'd overheard outside the apothecary in Diagon Alley the previous week.

"I understand you're pretty high in the running for Cauldron Quarterly's 'Potion Master of the Year' award," he said.

Snape looked up at him in surprise but nodded. "The improvements I've made to the Wolfsbane potion," he said by way of explanation.

"Really?" Harry said. "I've heard Remus mention how much easier the transformations are now. He's looking much healthier these days."

"Regular meals will do that for a person," Snape said dryly.

"Speaking of regular meals," Harry said pointedly, "Albus tells me you're missing too many of them."

Snape sneered at him. "Nagging, Potter? What a proper little housewife you're becoming."

Harry flinched but raised his chin determinedly. "It doesn't do anyone any good if you work yourself to death, Severus."

Snape glared at him but Harry just glared back. After a moment, Snape closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he said grudgingly. "I will try to attend more meals."

"Good," Harry said, feeling oddly satisfied. "Anyway, we'll have you home in a few weeks, and I'm sure Pippa and Toby will fatten you up."

Snape snorted at that. "They have attempted to do so in the past, without much success."

Harry smirked. "Ah, but now you have the 'little housewife' here to nag you into eating."

"Nag me into hiding in my workroom, more like," Snape muttered, and then looked across the table at Harry with something remarkably like resignation in his eyes. "I'm going to regret that housewife remark, aren't I?"

Harry's lip twitched, but he was having far too much fun to let Snape off the hook just yet. "Oh, I would definitely say so. In fact, I believe I feel a headache coming on." Snape gave him a blank look and Harry gave up with a sigh. "You haven't a clue, have you? That's a standard line for Muggle wives when they want to withhold sex."

Snape looked alarmed by that thought, and Harry couldn't help laughing. "Relax, Severus. I'm not that heartless." He pushed back from the table as he said, "I'll head on up."

When Snape entered Harry's bedroom a short while later, Harry was amused to see the cautious look in his eyes as he surveyed the room and then Harry. He appeared to find everything satisfactory because he relaxed just the slightest bit and made his usual way to the bed. Harry waved out the lights, then lay on his side and waited as Snape made the usual preparations.

He could tell that Snape was deliberately taking his time, making sure Harry was ready for him. It was comforting in a way, knowing that Snape wouldn't risk hurting him. Still, Harry couldn't help feeling irritated with the man and wished he'd get on with it. It seemed like forever before Snape was gasping in completion, and Harry's own climax felt more unsatisfactory than ever.

Snape seemed to sense something was wrong, for once he was finished and had cleaned them both up, he leaned close and murmured, "Harry?"

"What?"

"Are you...all right? Do you require a potion or anything?"

"I'm fine."

"Would you prefer me to remain here for the night?"

Harry sighed. Snape was being - for Snape - remarkably indulgent. "No, that's all right. You don't have to stay."

"Very well." Harry was almost certain that he felt the ghostly press of lips against his shoulder before Snape eased his way out of bed, but knowing that Snape abhorred romantic mush, he decided that he'd imagined it. "Good night, Harry. Should you require anything in the morning..."

"I'll let you know. Good night, Severus."

The bedroom door opened and closed. Harry debated getting up for a shower, and then decided he was too tired tonight. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to sleep and tried not to think about why his throat felt so tight.

Chapter 7

Snape was once again gone in the morning and Harry refused to think about it as he returned to his gardening. The next few weeks passed quickly. He'd invited Ron to spend a week at the house, the first vacation his friend had had since taking over the Department of Magical Games and Sports. As the University of London had just finished for the term, Hermione came down for a week as well.

Their visit cheered him up considerably. Both Ron and Hermione were delighted with the house and what he'd done with his "den", as he called the cottage. He and Ron spent hours playing Quidditch one-on- one in the west field while Hermione pored over the books in the library. Evenings were spent in front of the fire in the sitting room or in the den, talking or watching the telly that he'd managed to get working out there. Snape didn't put in an appearance, although he was aware that Harry's friends were there as Harry had owled him for permission for Hermione to borrow one of his books. He'd given his grudging permission, since it was Hermione, which had pleased her considerably.

On the last day of their visit, Harry got up early and went down to work in the garden. He'd neglected the beds over the past few days, not wanting to waste any of his precious free time with his friends, but they were in desperate need of weeding. He got down on his hands and knees and began working his way down the rows, carefully pulling weeds as he checked on the growing seedlings.

"Would you like a little help?"

Harry looked up, startled, and smiled when he saw Hermione standing nearby. "Should have known it was you," he said. "Ron still sleeping?"

Hermione flushed slightly and nodded. It was an open secret that she and Ron were already lovers, although as far as the Weasley family was aware, they were waiting to get married until after Hermione finished her Muggle university studies. Between Ron's work schedule and her classes, they didn't have much chance to be together, and Harry had been glad to give them the opportunity.

Harry couldn't help but envy the easy way they had with each other, however, or the fact that both of them knew exactly what they wanted to do with their lives. Ron's passion for and understanding of Quidditch had revitalized his department after Bagman's betrayal. Hermione had a position waiting for her as Special Advocate in the restructured Department for Magical Creatures when she finished her studies. Compared with the borderline disaster of his marriage and his own doubts about his future, it appeared as if their lives were perfect.

"Come on, then," Harry told Hermione. "I've got to get them weeded before breakfast. Severus is probably coming home this weekend, and heaven help me if his precious plants look neglected."

Hermione set to work at the other end of the bed, and they worked in companionable silence for a while before Hermione said quietly, "Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry looked at her in surprise. "Nothing."

She sighed and sat back on her heels. "Don't tell me that. I know something is wrong. You're - I don't know - too quiet. And last night when Ron and I went up to bed...does it bother you that we're sleeping together?"

"No!" Harry said, startled by the question. "I'm fine with it, really."

"Then...is it Professor Snape? Is there something wrong between the two of you?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione, we were both forced to marry someone we don't love. How could anything be right between us?"

"He doesn't...hurt you or anything, does he?" she asked anxiously.

"No, not exactly. It's just...well...to be honest, I'm just not too keen about the sex." He knew he was bright red with embarrassment, and he stared at the ground as he pulled out weeds with a little more violence than necessary.

"A man who's not keen about sex - what's wrong with this picture?" Hermione said, a teasing note in her voice.

"We've done it - had sex - three times, and I hated it every time."

"Three times? And you've been married over two months?"

Harry scowled at her. "Well, do you like it, being poked like that?"

Hermione blinked. "Of course I like it. We wouldn't do it if I - oh!" she said, as if something was suddenly clear. "Harry, the first couple times Ron and I had sex, well, it wasn't exactly great. Neither of us knew what we were doing, and it was awkward, and I didn't get much out of it. But with practice and...and learning about each other, it got better, and now I love it just as much as Ron."

"I don't think it's quite the same thing between men," Harry said. "Severus is not exactly inexperienced, you know."

"Is he?" Hermione asked.

"What?" Harry said blankly.

"Experienced. We never saw him with anyone while we were at school, and you know how quickly stories like that spread. Maybe he hasn't had much more experience than you."

Harry looked doubtful. "He seems to know what he's doing."

She gave him an amused smile. "Would Snape admit it if he didn't? Have you tried doing something different, like oral sex? Or reversing roles - you topping and him bottoming?"

"He refuses."

"Well, there you have it, then," she said triumphantly.

"Have what?" he asked, confused.

Patiently, as if explaining it to a moron, she said, "Obviously, if he didn't enjoy being on the bottom, he's not going to know how to make you enjoy it."

Harry frowned at the ground as he thought about this idea. It made sense, but it didn't help in the least. If Snape was nearly as clueless as he was about sex, things could hardly improve. "So what do I do?"

"I'd suggest talking to your husband about the problem," Hermione said frankly. "Not to mention getting a good sex book, the kind that shows positions and tell you how to do things, like giving a blow job."

Harry looked at Hermione, slightly shocked at hearing her say things like that. "I wouldn't know where to find something like that - I wouldn't even know how to ask!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Honestly, men! You're worse at asking for help with sex than you are about asking for directions." Harry flushed and she said, "I'll ask around at University, see what I can find out, and I'll let you know. In the meantime, talk to him, okay?"

Harry smiled at her gratefully, then they turned their attention back to the weeds.

Chapter 8

The week after his friends left, Harry's life suddenly became busy again. With his contract up for renewal, the team's Management was heavily wooing him to remain with them while trying not to alienate Eloise Barton, the current Seeker. Harry had meetings with his agent, with Management, and "team building" exercises designed to make them all one big happy family. Considering that Eloise was furious about the fuss over the reserve Seeker instead of her, one of their beaters was still out on disability and talking lawsuit, and Harry's two ex-flatmates were barely speaking to him, Harry didn't think much of their chances.

Harry returned home after a long team press conference, feeling weary to the bone, and nearly tripped over several trunks in the foyer. He was just wondering if he'd Apparated to the wrong house or if the house-elves were doing a belated Spring-cleaning when Snape walked into the room.

"So, you're back, are you?" Snape said. "I was beginning to wonder."

"Are these your trunks?" Harry asked, leaning his broom against the wall and removing his Quidditch robes. The management had wanted the entire team in full gear for the photo shoot this morning, and he was feeling hot and tired after posing for hours. "When did you get home?"

"Yesterday," Snape said shortly. "Term ended a few days ago, if you remember."

"Did it?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. The last few days have been hectic - I can barely remember my own name much less anything else."

"I can imagine," Snape said dryly. "I hear the team is offering to triple your salary if you stay with them. Congratulations."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I think. I haven't actually accepted yet." He sat down on a chair and pulled off his boots. His feet ached from standing on them for hours. "I heard about your award as well. Potion Master of the Year, plus I hear you're in the running for the Lifetime Achievement award in potion making -pretty damn good."

"One hopes that it doesn't portend the end of my life," Snape said, but Harry thought he could detect a hint of satisfaction on the man's face. "Are you home for the duration?"

"Just a few hours, unfortunately," Harry said, picking up his boots as he prepared to head upstairs. "They're having a dinner tonight with the team sponsors and the press, and I have to attend. The last for a while, thank God. I'm going to go up and crash for a few hours first."

Acting on impulse, Harry leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Snape's cheek. "I'm glad you're home, Severus."

Harry was almost sure he saw surprised pleasure in the other man's eyes before he dragged himself upstairs and collapsed across the bed.

The trunks were gone when Harry hurried back down the stairs several hours later, fastening the last buttons of his dress robes. He was running late, having forgotten to cast a wake-up spell on his clock before falling into bed. "Severus!" he called as he crossed the foyer. "Are you - ah, there you are," he said as the other man came out of the sitting room. "I'm off again - shouldn't be any later than midnight but don't wait up. You know how people in power love to hear themselves talk."

"Very well, Harry," Snape said. He was holding a parcel wrapped in brown paper and held it up. "This came for you from Miss Granger," he said.

"Really?" Harry cast a curious look at the package. It was still two weeks till his birthday, and he couldn't think of any other reason she might be sending him a package. "Put it in my den, if you will. I'll take a look at it later." He grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the can on the mantle.

"Harry," Snape said, and he looked around inquiringly. "Be careful."

This time, Harry was positive he saw something in Snape's eyes, and he thought that maybe Hermione was right. Maybe they should talk. And maybe - oh, bugger! he thought as he was swept into the Floo system. The package was probably a sex book she'd found for him, but it would have to wait till he returned later.

Harry nearly fell out onto the hearth, not in the least helped by the fact that his teammate stumbled into him as they exited. He sighed as he helped the other man to his feet: Reggie Gordon was a nice enough person and a superb chaser, but he couldn't hold his booze and he had a notorious wandering eye. Not to mention his hand, which was right now wandering over parts of Harry's anatomy that it shouldn't be.