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Pairing: HP/SS
Disclaimer: Not mine. Hers. Sob.
Feedback: Yes please, here or at lant_ana@yahoo.co.uk
Beta: thanks, Anita, for weeding out about a hundred superfluous commas, and all the rest. All remaining mistakes are mine
Warning: Slash, Mpreg, candy-abuse
AN: sequel to "How Severus Snape became a teetotaller" - but can easily be read separately
Archive: Part of the From Dusk till Dawn Severus Snape/Harry Potter Fuh-Q-Fest at http://www.kardasi.com/HPSS/storyindex.htm
Challenge: Wave VI: after Hogwarts

ALL ABOUT A WEDDING

1. BEFORE

Severus Snape was staring morosely at his mirrored image. The mirror seemed to like what it showed him, according to its comments. He, however, did not.

He didn't mind so much that his hair was much longer now, not to mention conspicuously clean. It had more to do with the rest of his look: the whitened teeth, the light tan... And the wedding robes, of course. The very non-black wedding robes. Harry had whined, flattered and finally, all else failing, threatened him into wearing them.

He had given in; of course he had given in. He always gave in, in the end. Harry had stored his memories of that fatal night of two years ago in a pensieve - and then he had somehow managed to make several copies, and stored them in various secret places.

It gave Harry perfect leverage. Should he do anything Harry didn't like, the memories would be distributed over half of the Wizarding world, and his life would be worth less than last week's Daily Prophet.

And, what was even worse, the boy - or young man now - knew how to use the threat flawlessly. He had blackmailed him into a torrid, half-public affair; starting the morning after the night Severus, roaring drunk, had mistaken the boy for his deceased lover, and had rather forcefully bedded him. The morning after, the dreaded pensieves had been mentioned for the first time. Severus had lost his hangover in record time.

Mind, in time he stopped hating it so much. Harry was an enthusiastic and, once he got a bit more experienced, a very capable lover. The sex was nothing less than breathtaking, and the lad was not half as annoying as he once believed.

The boy had matured over these past two years. His gratuitous rebellion had been quenched, and instead of a disagreeable, impulsive teenager, he could now be seen as a cautious, albeit rather headstrong young man.

Unfortunately it was the death of the Weasley girl that caused him to grow up. She'd been in fifth year at the time of her death. She was having a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks with a couple of friends when there was a Death Eater attack. Harry hadn't been there to save her; he had been chasing who he believed to be Pettigrew on the other side of town. He had followed his prey for hours, until the image of Pettigrew had blinked and dissipated.

Only then had he realised he had been tricked, and he had run back to Hogsmeade where the damage had already been done by then. The present members of the DA had managed to stun the six Deatheaters that had performed the attack, but not without a heavy price to pay. Five students had died that afternoon, one of them Ginevra Weasley.

Harry had blamed himself, of course. Had he been there, had he not been chasing phantoms, he might have stunned the Deatheater that had killed his best friend's sister.

It had a very sobering effect on the boy. His character lost some of its Gryffindor flamboyance, and - surprisingly - he had developed an almost Slytherin capability of strategy and cunning. Severus had eagerly encouraged that mental growth, and it had helped Potter immensely at the final fight with Voldemort. He had made use of several rarely known spells, combined into something formerly unheard of, and as it turned out quite fatal, even for Evil Overlords with delusions of grandeur. Especially for those.

Harry had been seventeen and a few months, then. He had considered himself an adult, and less bound by regulations and laws than others of his age - and made profusely use of that fact. It had helped a lot that he could do no wrong in the eyes of the entire Wizarding world, no matter what he did. Even if he chose to date one Severus Snape, Potions master and suspected Death Eater.

That last half year spent as a student at Hogwarts, Harry had had the time of his life. As said before, he knew he could do no wrong and took full advantage of it. He never slept in the Gryffindor dorm anymore, but quite openly descended the stairs leading to the dungeon and stayed in his lover's rooms every night. He insisted on taking Severus out on weekends, both to Muggle and Wizarding places.

It had made the formerly unpopular man all the rage for a while. Clearly, people thought along the lines of: okay, so he's twice the boy's age, ugly and unpleasant, and yet he landed the most wanted wizard on earth. He must have something quite special. I wonder what it would be - and could I get some of that, please?

He even made it to the cover of Witch Weekly once. "Man of Mystery, Man of Intrigue - What Makes Him Harry's Hearts Desire???" the title read in sickening pinkish-red.

Severus snorted. There was very little mystery or intrigue in their affair. All it required was a healthy sex-drive, and submitting to Harry's desires.

Not that it was torture to do so - Harry was quite an inventive lover, and had made him feel things no lover had uncovered in him before.

One of their first nights together, Harry had claimed he needed to get to know his body. Severus had allowed it, smirking inwardly at this admittance of ignorance. His smirk had melted away like snow for the sun after all of five minutes. There hadn't been an inch of his body left untouched; there had been lips and teeth and tongue and fingers everywhere, awakening responses in the most unexpected places.

Severus often thought back of that night. It had made him realise how very little he knew about his own body. Who would have thought that nibbling kisses at the base of his neck were enough to make him shudder and moan, or that slow caresses on his calves could make him weak with desire? He for one hadn't known, and his former lover most certainly hadn't either.

But Harry knew, he hadn't cared how idiotic it seemed to admit his inexperience. He had explored his body with a dedication worthy of nobler causes; he'd treated every square inch of skin with the focussed attention a foot-fetishist would lave on a black lace shoe.

No, he was quite happy with Harry. But to be forced to marry the brat! Call him romantic, but he had hoped for well... romance. Dates, and presents, and even, Hel forbid, flowers - though he would probably use them only as potion ingredients the morning after.

Instead Harry had woken him up one morning and declared they would be married the day after he finished school. Severus had been affronted at the lad's gall. "Who did he think he was to dole out an ultimatum like that", he had ranted, and his lover had the nerve to declare he thought he was the one holding the Potion master's future in his hand. Didn't he want to make an honest man out of the poor child he had seduced in his drunken stupor?

That had ended that discussion. He had accepted, of course he had accepted, what else could he do? He didn't have to be happy about it though, and so he did what in a lesser man would be called sulking.

He had to let go of his broodiness quite rapidly, when Harry pulled him into his arms and gave him one of his trademark devouring kisses. He was lost immediately, carried away by the young man's desire. He knew right away this would not be an elaborate game. He was going to be taken hard and long, and he would enjoy every minute of it. Harry could be very masterful, and he loved it.

Harry had one advantage over Severus: he didn't need a wand to perform the necessary spells. And so, only moments later, Severus found himself facedown on his own bed, hands tied to a post with his own belt, and shivering in anticipation.

He wasn't disappointed - Harry made good use of the extensive knowledge he had, and had him begging for release in moments. He would have felt ashamed of himself for being so easy hadn't it felt great to be loved so much. He almost cried at how very good, how very right it felt when Harry finally entered him. His body had adapted long ago to Harry's ample endowment and the initial burning and occasional small tears had faded long since, leaving only pleasure and a feeling of being completely filled. Severus briefly enjoyed that glorious feeling, but soon wanted more.

Harry moved, a slow rocking at first, designed to drive him mad; but that soon developed into full-blasted thrusts into his willing body. He was screaming now, but didn't care. Harry knew he was very vocal, and loved him for it; in fact he did everything he could to make him scream more. There was that peculiar twist of his hips that had him yowling and the teasing of his weeping cock that made him desperate to reach his orgasm. Finally, when he was convinced that he couldn't take another minute of this exquisite torture, Harry wrapped his hand firmly around his pulsing erection, his mouth sucked on that one spot in his neck, his cock assaulted his sensitised prostate, and he was swept away into those realms where bodies no longer mattered and souls connected.

That was the end of that particular argument. There were others, of course, and they were solved in the same delightful manner. It didn't do much for Severus' pride, but worked wonders with his temperament.

Come to think of it, Severus could do with some of Harry's peculiar kind of settling an argument. These robes could make an excellent pretence for some quality quarrelling. He really didn't like them, they were far too colourful for his taste, and he might as well get something good out of them since there was not a chance in hell Harry would give in to his complaints and send them back to be exchanged for some decent black ones.

Severus knew Harry wasn't usually this unreasonable when it came down to something that would make him happy. Had it not been for his mother's freely shared conviction that he was wearing far too much black as it was, Severus was quite confident he might have changed Harry's mind about the robes.

But alas, there was no chance of that now: Harry and his mother got along like a house on fire. If you saw the two of them together, planning the wedding, making decisions about guests, flowers and what not, you would think Harry was her beloved son and Severus the outsider.

Severus loved his mother and he loved Harry, he really did, but that unholy alliance of his betrothed and his mother made him wonder if he wouldn't be better off putting his wand against his head and kill himself.

Melania Snape had always complained about how he neglected his appearance, but had been quite helpless to do anything about it. To her unending joy, she had discovered that her future son-in-law's complaints and demands were usually obeyed by her rebellious son - hence the new look. All she had to do, was ask Harry if he didn't think Severus would be so much more attractive if he'd only - add whatever change she wanted to happen at that time - and Harry would be there, nodding his agreement, and sending a threatening look at him.

Most of the changes weren't too world shocking, and he obeyed without having the damned pensieves mentioned, but when he looked into the mirror these days, Severus almost didn't recognise himself. He had to admit though that the almost-stranger staring back at him was looking good. Sometimes he could almost understand what Harry saw in him, when he called him beautiful.

His mother was quite happy with his new looks too, and he didn't begrudge the woman her feelings. He was far too happy they were back on speaking terms. They had reconciled after the long estrangement caused by him taking Voldemort's Mark. Once she found out about her son's espionage, she had spelled the carriage that would take her to Hogwarts so heavily it almost flew over the road. The reunion had been tearful on her part, even more so when she discovered her poor, misjudged baby was in a relation with a handsome, heroic young man.

The years apart had been long and lonely with many bitter feelings on both sides, but everything was back to normal now, and she was quite driven to make up for all the lost years. Clearly, in her opinion, that meant: make sure her son would be happy; and to be happy seemed to include look good, and get married to that lovely, kind young man that was so obviously madly in love with him. Severus could hardly believe that his smart, experienced mother didn't see the truth of their relation - although he had to admit that, no matter how they got together, Harry did seem to make him happier than he ever had been before.

Perhaps a wedding was not such a bad idea, and if it took wearing ridiculous clothing to please his husband on that occasion, he would do it. But he would pester Harry about them all the same. Part of his mind lined up his many objections, while another part was already gleefully thinking of how his lover would make an end to the discussion.

2. AFTER

The wedding wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

Albus had twinkled and distributed pounds of lemon drops - even Fudge had been forced to accept a few.

Melania Snape and Molly Weasley had been crying on each other's shoulders, a sure indication of a happy wedding.

Harry had looked incredible in his green-golden outfit, making a striking contrast with his own bronze robes. Having seen the pictures of the two of them, he had to admit that the robes had looked good on him, even if they had not been his choice.

The ball had been great too, of course. He had wanted to sit down after opening the dance, but Harry wouldn't let go of him, and when he finally saw a chance to take a break, others had been there to invite him. He had to accept quite a few of them, or the husband-mother alliance would tear him to shreds afterwards, and to his never-ending surprise, he had actually enjoyed himself. It made the hours before they could retire pass so much faster, for one.

His mother had wanted to talk to him, and she seemed more and more anxious about it as the hours went by, but Severus couldn't force himself to care. Whatever it was she had to say to him, it would have to wait until after the honeymoon. He - they had more important things to do - such as utterly ravish each other on occasion of their wedding night.

Their wedding night.

Whatever Severus had expected it to be, it wasn't that. Oh, it was not so surprising Harry took the lead once more - he usually did anyway. Nor was it the way he inched up Severus' robes, imprisoning him, blinding him with the heavy brocade, or the way he stripped him of the rest of his clothes and kissed his way up from curling toes to weeping cock.

It wasn't even the rimming that had him squawking, he'd felt that agile tongue teasing and caressing his entrance a couple of times before, although it always was a bit of a special treat.

Severus was panting now, and ready to beg, when Harry briefly withdrew his tongue. It came back only moments later, feeling somewhat stickier than before, and wormed its way inside of him. Severus moaned at the unusual feeling, vaguely sensing there was something off kilter when that wonderful feeling continued longer than it should.

The squawk came, when the probing point of Harry's tongue impossibly nudged his prostate. The tongue seemed encouraged by his reaction, and started a fury of movement on that sensitive spot. It stroked languorously, then faster, interspersed with teasing little jabs. The pleasure was too intense for Severus; he reached orgasm in record-breaking time, and fainted.

Severus awoke, weak as a kitten, his throat sore from screaming and his muscles as relaxed as if he had downed a paralysing potion. The brocade had disappeared, but he was still lying flat on his back, legs wide open. When he tried to shift his position, those legs wouldn't cooperate. With an enormous amount of effort, he succeeded to lift his head to see what was wrong.

Oh.

Harry was still in between them, and he smiled when he saw dark eyes trying to focus on him. Just when Severus thought he could manage a request for Harry to move away and let him take a less strenuous pose, he grinned wickedly, and rammed his cock into Severus' well-stretched and generously lubricated arse. "Not again..." Severus thought, and would have told his energetic lover, but his vocal cords somehow translated his complaint in another of those undignified squawks and Harry happily pounded along.

When Severus came back from his trip among the stars, he managed to ask Harry what Dark magic he had used to make his tongue long enough to reach his prostate. Harry smirked, and showed him a half-eaten toffee, colourfully wrapped. "Ton-tongue toffee, one of the Weasley twins' earliest inventions. Didn't use all of it, though, I don't think you'd appreciate three feet of tongue wriggling inside of you. There's plenty for another go - interested?" Severus had no reason to refuse.

There had been more squawks that night, and plenty of moaning and screaming; but if Severus had thought it to be a unique occasion, he was wrong. Silencing charms had suppressed his vocalisations in hotel rooms around the world in the following month - Harry had had just as little occasion for travelling as he had, and they had made up for that lack of experience.

It had been a wonderful trip. They had seen places they had only dreamt of - and some exquisite ceilings. But, all in all, Severus was glad to be back. They had moved into Snape Manor, his mother wouldn't have it any other way, and he was happy to oblige. Melania Snape happily retired into the dowager's quarters in the south wing, and left the rest of the manor to the newlyweds.

Getting to know the layout of the vast house, and adapting things to their own taste kept them busy for a couple of days. Once they were fully settled, the men both agreed it would be a nice gesture if they started inviting Melania for dinner. The woman was pleasant enough company, and she was their only living family (Muggles by the name of Dursley not included, naturally). She and Severus had so much to talk about; so many lost years to make up for, while Harry quite simply basked in feeling part of a family.

They were quite nervous the first time they would have her over. Severus had changed the menu enough times to make the House-elves jumpy, and Harry had done something similar with the arrangement of the table.

Things were a bit awkward at first. Severus and Harry were too eager to make a good impression, and were acting tense. Their guest clearly had other things on her mind. The meal was very good; the House-elves had done well - which was mentioned at least ten times. They tried to keep up a light chatter, but subjects tended to fall flat, due to the two men's nerves and Melania's preoccupation.

The uncomfortable meal finally over, Melania finally found the courage to broach the subject that had been on her mind since her son's wedding.

"Severus, have you ever come across documents that mentioned the Snape family curse?" she began hesitantly. Severus' surprise was complete and unfeigned. Melania mustered all her courage, and started to narrate what had to be for her a difficult story.

"It all began with Sheridan Snape. In 1303, he wedded the girl his parents had chosen for him. Her name has been forgotten, but she must have been quite something. Sheridan fell for her the moment he set eyes on her, and did everything to please her.

She could do no wrong in his eyes, he gave her everything she wanted, and when he found out she was pregnant, he was the happiest man on earth.

Then disaster struck. The child was born, and while it was the heir he had hoped for, it was clear for all to see that the child was not of his blood. He and his wife were dark-haired and dark-eyed, tall and thin, and the child was none of that. He exploded.

He killed his wife and her baby, making it look like both mother and child died during the birth, and acted the bereaved father, struck by tragedy.

Two years later, after a befitting period of mourning, a new wife was found and wed. Elayne McNamara's parents were glad their daughter made such a good catch, for she was considered a bit of a spinster at the age of twenty-three; she was ugly, far too smart for a woman, and ill-tempered to boot. Many were surprised the young Lord Snape chose such an unworthy bride, but then again there had been rumours about his mental sanity after the death of his first wife and child.

However Sheridan was anything but mad. He had chosen Elayne for the very reasons many considered her unfitting. Her unattractiveness and sombre disposition would mean she was grateful to be chosen. Her age would mean she was not so foolish as most young girls, and her intelligence would make sure she fully realised just how lucky she was, and be grateful.

On her wedding night, Elayne steeled herself for what she had heard describe as "matrimonial duty", a thing to be feared and loathed by all decent women. She didn't know whether she ought to feel relieved or insulted, when her husband entered the nuptial chamber fully dressed, and declared she could relax, he would never demand such a thing from her.

Sheridan then told her the story of his first wife, and how her betrayal had driven him to never again trust any living being. Since no woman could be trusted to bear his child and his child only, he would do things differently from now on.

He had brewed a potion, that had changed his body forever, making it possible for him to bear his child himself - so he could be completely sure this time that his heir would not be a bastard. But, since even the potion could not exclude the need for a second parent to make a healthy child, Elayne's corporation was demanded for this one night.

Elayne's sharp mind figured out what her husband meant, and her temper flared up. She jumped out of the bed, stridently refusing to be part of such abomination, claiming he should write the perverted Muggle King to find a male who would do his bidding.

Sheridan made short work of his wife's protest with a swift Imperio, and followed it with a gender-switching curse. Finding the experience of impregnation less than pleasant, he made sure he left the room pregnant by the following morning.

He returned his wife to her original sex, but kept her under Imperio for the duration of his pregnancy, and isolated the household from friends and family so nobody would know it was not his wife that was pregnant.

Nine months later, he announced the birth of his heir; a boy he named Shae.

Elayne didn't react well to the prolonged Imperio she was under, and the Obliviate her husband cast upon her didn't do her much good either. She died three years later, a raving lunatic, screaming about her husband's royal lover.

Shae Snape grew up to be the perfect heir Sheridan had wanted: smart, strong, both physically and magically, and with the same dark good looks of his father. There was one thing his father didn't know about him, and he wouldn't have been happy if he did: his perfect, flawless son preferred boys to girls, and at the age of seventeen, he was no longer a virgin.

Also, though he didn't know this himself, he was quite pregnant. When he started having morning sickness, he didn't know what was happening with his body. Neither did his father, but they soon enough found out after the first diagnostic spell the older Snape used.

Apparently, the potion Sheridan had used to conceive his own heir had not only altered his own body - it made the condition hereditary. Sheridan didn't know how to react when he realised this. Should he beat his son senseless for his licentious ways, or should he thank him for it? After all, he could be certain now that the line of Snape would remain pure through the ages.

But still, it would be known that the child was conceived out of wedlock. Although it was too late to do anything about that now, it had to be prevented for the future. It took him quite some research, but in the end he managed to curse his unborn grandchild, so that the unnatural fertility would only be activated by the magic of a formal wedding.

Shae Snape wed his boyfriend, one of the first same-sex weddings of modern Wizarding history, and gave birth to his firstborn six months afterwards.

And since then, the heirs of the Snape line have wed women or men, as took their fancy, but in either case their firstborn, their heir, was always born from their own body. If they married a man, the conception was no problem; in fact there might be more than one child in that generation. In case they preferred to wed a woman, a short-lived gender-switching curse or potion would take care of things.

You, Severus, have been born not from my body, but of that of your father too, and, in time, will give birth to your heir in the same way.

Severus grew paler and paler as the story of his family's curse unwound, until his carefully cultured tan seemed to have leached completely from his face, and he looked every bit as pale as he had before he had become Harry's lover.

Suddenly, there were a lot of things that finally made sense. The slightly bloated feeling he had noticed for weeks now, the way his always sensitive nipples had been tender to the touch, the vomiting he had blamed on a food-poisoning by those foreign foods, his touchiness... he was carrying Harry's child.

Severus froze in panic. He was a freak, an object of ridicule. Surely Harry would despise him, surely he would leave him, letting him face the scandal of raising his child alone - or worse, he'd take the child away from him, keeping it to raise as his own and Severus would be rejected, left behind with empty heart and empty hands...

A single tear slowly slid down his pale cheek - and was gently wiped away by a familiar hand. A hand that had never hurt him, he could trust that hand. It softly cupped his cheek, guiding him tenderly to raise his eyes into the face of his husband. He swallowed away his uncertainties, readying himself for whatever Harry would choose to afflict on him. Perhaps fate would be kind to him just this once, and his husband would pity him in his distress.

Harry's eyes, always green and sparkling before, were now blazing with emerald fire, while joy and wonder shone on his face. At some point, Harry had gotten out of his chair and was now standing right in front of him, pulling him close. Severus gladly went into the embrace, relieved at his husband's unexpected acceptance.

"Again you surprise me, Severus, and again you make me happier than I ever thought possible. Is it true? Is there a baby growing inside of you now? Oh, my love, that is such good news. I love you so much, my precious, my Severus. I have loved you since that first night, and now you give me reasons to love you even more. You have no idea how much I've always wanted a family - and now, now you will give me that - oh, Severus, I am so happy..." Harry pulled his husband even closer, not wanting to let go of him, never.

Severus huddled against Harry's chest, content to soak in the security only he could give him, Finally the truth dawned on him; he loved his husband, and was loved in return, and nothing would change that.

FIN