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Making Ends Meet by Obadiah Slope [Reviews - 8]

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The penultimate chapter...

Chapter 36: Ah, the wedding!

At six thirty-five in the morning, Severus was shoved unceremoniously awake by Rosie. His eyes fluttered open, momentarily, before he felt the alluring seduction of sleep tempt his lids to close once more, his body relaxing into the mattress. Sleep was so wonderful…

“Severus!” Rosie hissed. “Severus! Wake up!” She pushed him in the shoulder again.

“Wha –?” He took a huge, slumberous intake of breath and rolled onto his back. “I’m up…”

Rosie kissed him on the lips affectionately. “No you’re not…” She lay atop him and proceeded to attack his lips with sensuous kisses, her tongue beginning to delve into his mouth. Finally, she elicited a response from her partner and felt his arms encircle her, drawing her closer to him. Throwing her left leg over his torso and straddling him firmly, she continued to kiss him with a kind of renewed desperation and longing, feeling also an extreme excitement that this was their wedding day, this their last hours as…illegal partners, she supposed the term would be. She didn’t let that sloppy description of their relationship bother her, however, as Severus began to divest her of her clothes.

“We – really – shouldn’t,” Rosie gasped between kisses. “The girls – downstairs – mmm – wedding…”

Severus planted kisses down her throat and muttered, “Rosie, do not listen to your conscience; it is a nasty, deviant thing, determined to destroy your pleasure…and mine,” he added, smirking against her skin.

Rosie smiled and pretended to consider this dilemma for a period. “Oh, all right…” she said, sucking at the lobe of his ear. “Quick one, then…”

When Severus finally managed to extricate himself from the warm confines of the bed, he threw some clothes on haphazardly and made his way downstairs. In the front room lay the bodies of Rosie’s friends, all very much asleep, all probably very much hungover. Allowing a quiet snort to escape him, he pushed open the kitchen door to find Alina and Morven munching their way through what looked like the entire contents of his and Rosie’s fridge.

“Morning, Severus!” Morven chirped, in a surprisingly merry voice. “Have some tea.” She gestured towards the teapot standing on the kitchen table. “We would have waited for you two before we began eating, but I was just too hungry…”

“Did the pair of you have a good night’s rest?” Severus asked, taking a mug from the kitchen cabinet and sitting down at the table.

Alina yawned widely. “Yes, slept well.” She looked at him briefly before asking, “Are you looking forward to the wedding?”

Severus looked into the contents of his mug and raised a brow slightly. “In what sense are you referring? If you are asking me if I am looking forward to getting Rosie out of bed, getting my family to the church and praying dearly that nothing too drastic will happen to ruin the day, then I would have to say quite bluntly that I am dreading the proceedings. If you are questioning me as to whether I am looking forward to marrying Rosie, then the answer is a resounding yes.”

Morven smiled. “We were asking the latter, Severus.”

Alina laughed and a voice from the door said, “I am not that bad at getting out of bed, thank you, darling.” Rosie walked through the door, closed it behind her and began to prepare herself a breakfast. “I am the one, after all,” she continued, placing her bowl on the table and sitting down, “who woke you up at half past six this morning.”

“Half past six?” Alina asked, looking confused. “But – what – it’s ten past eight now… What took you so long to get out of bed?”

Morven choked on her tea and Severus shot Rosie a deeply significant look. “Don’t worry, Alina,” Morven soothed.

“Don’t worry about what? What? I don’t understand!”

Rosie laughed. “It’s probably best if you don’t…”

“But – it wouldn’t take you an hour and a ha –” The penny appeared to drop; her eyes widened quite drastically. “Oh!” She looked between Severus and Rosie disgustedly. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Rosie dropped her spoon, looking disbelieving. “We didn’t want to tell you! It’s not my fault you’re incredibly dense sometimes!”

“Can we organise what will be happening today instead of engaging in mindless chatter?” Severus interrupted through gritted teeth.

“Chill,” Morven said lightly, taking a sip from her cup. “Even Rosie’s not foolhardy enough to fail to plan what is going to be happening on the wedding day.”

“We did book the church, right?” Rosie asked, looking at Severus with apparent sincerity.

It looked as if he was about to have some sort of a seizure: his face became rigid, his jaw locked, and the blood drained from his face. “WHAT? You said you’d do –”

“Wait – calm down – it’s ok – I was joking…” Rosie quickly inserted, rubbing his arm placatingly. “Church is booked, wedding reception’s all fine, dress is in my room…” She began to laugh loudly as Severus relaxed. “Your face…”

“Don’t ever do that to me again. That was not amusing.” He got up. “I am going to have a shower and then retrieve my suit from Maximus’ abode. I suggest that you wake the other guests up, and then we can all proceed, in an orderly fashion, to the bloody church.” He strode from the room muttering what sounded like angry threads of thought: “More trouble than… Why did I agree to this…?”

Alina looked up at Rosie. “Will he be all right?”

Rosie creased her brow and stared at the table. “I – don’t know. I’d rather have Severus alive and unmarried than wedded with a hernia.”

“Rosie,” Morven began, sighing, “if your wedding wasn’t a complete and utter farce, then whose would be?”

Rosie shook her head. “Why, thank you, Morven. A true friend.”

“It wouldn’t be right if everything went smoothly. We all know you want a story to tell the family in twenty years’ time… Come on, the day that anything is normal in your life is the day there’s a female Pope.”

“Morven, there has been a female Pope…”

“Has there?” Morven said, looking surprised. “What happened to her?”

“She was stoned to death for pretending to be a man. You know, cheers, Morven. The day seems so much more positive now. I think I might go and have a nervous breakdown with Severus. Cheerio!” She followed her soon-to-be husband up the stairs, leaving Morven and Alina sitting cautiously in the kitchen.

“Who would have guessed that Rosie would be stressed?” Morven whispered to Alina.

Alina nodded solemnly. “I know. Of all the people…” She looked around. “Come on, let’s wake the others. We might as well help.”

It would serve very little point to describe the foolish array of events that followed. Suffice it to say that Rosie had as little idea what to do in order to arrange the wedding as Alina and Morven. Suffice it also to say that several of the bride’s maids were rather under the weather after a heavy evening of consuming unhealthy concoctions of one sort or another. Thus Severus’ rage grew, and after Morven walked in on him in the shower, Alina pestered him continually about what time to get to the church, and Rosie dropped tea over him, he felt he simply had to steal away from the mayhem. Perhaps Maximus would provide some normality.

“I am going to Maximus’ relatively mundane house,” Severus called angrily at Rosie, who simply wasn’t taking the slightest bit of notice. “I will see you at the church at two o’clock.”

“Oh, ok, then… I’ll see you soon.” She looked disparagingly at her friend, slumped over a hangover potion and a plate of burnt beans on toast.

“Rosie,” Morven said, bursting into the kitchen and pushing past Severus. “Helena thinks she might have just possibly put a tiny rip into the corner of her dress… Your mother isn’t any good at sewing, is she?”

Rosie’s eyes flashed dangerously and she leapt to her feet. “She’s put her fucking foot through it, hasn’t she?”

“Well, yes, she has. And Alina thinks her shoes are too tight…”

“Bad luck for Alina, then! She should have tried them on before! This is like looking after a crowd of five-year-olds! Severus, you should probably leave…”

She kissed him on the cheek and attempted to run away up the staircase, but Severus took her hand. He led her quickly into the sitting room and kissed her fully on the lips. Pulling his head eventually, reluctantly, away from hers, he muttered, “Is this the face that launched a thousand mishaps, and burnt the topless towers of toast?”

“Mutilated Marlowe in the morning… I like that… Any particular reason you refer to selling your soul on our wedding day?” Rosie ribbed him, but she seemed placated by his comment and kissed him, gently, on the mouth before moving towards the door. “I suppose I will see you at two o’clock, partner.” She grinned. “This will all get worse before it gets better…” She motioned upstairs to where loud female voices could be heard. “It will take hours to sort this menagerie.” Severus stood looking at her before she added, “Homo fuge!” and left the room.

*

When Severus arrived at Maximus’ house and took in the figure of his father, hunched over a basin, retching loudly into the bathroom basin, his heart sank and his anger increased tenfold.

“No drinking!” Severus snapped at his father. “I suppose that we will have to take you to the hospital to die before I can attend my own wedding. Couldn’t you have saved your own death for another day, you selfish melodramatist?”

“I’m not drunk,” he moaned into the basin. “I’m… Oh, God…” He ducked his head further into the basin again and Severus wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“I cannot believe that this is happening… What on earth is the matter with you, then?”

“After you left, I went to the local Chinese takeaway… Their food was obviously not well cooked…”

Severus could not help the weak laugh that escaped from him. “The first tentative steps of a xenophobe’s feet lead him to food poisoning on the day of his son’s marriage to a Muggle-born.”

“If I could turn back the time, I would,” he wailed into the bowl. “Believe me, I do not want to feel this way! Leave me be! Your suit is in your bedroom…”

Severus checked his watch as he left the bathroom and saw that it was half past eleven. Wondering where the morning had disappeared to, he entered his room, divested himself of his clothing and took his suit from the wardrobe. His crisp black suit, white shirt, grey waistcoat and blue tie was laid out on the bed in front of him, and for a moment, he could only look disbelievingly at it, unsure how he felt at this moment, whether he felt anything at all. It hardly seemed like anything, this marriage – he loved Rosie, and a lack of legal status could not change that – and yet it felt so unreal to be waiting to be wedded to a woman for the rest of his life. A small, quickly quenched smile drifted across his lips; and though his grin soon vanished, his face seemed to relax, his shoulders stretch and his back straighten.

Who could have suspected the enormous effect that advert in the paper wreaked on his life… The day that Rosie walked in the door of his house: he could still picture the light of the day, the smell of her coat as she gave it to him, the cats that she left locked downstairs overnight –

“For God’s sake, get dressed,” Severus chided himself.

His sister appeared twenty minutes later, criticised his clothes, his hair, his lack of a scent, his lack of decent appearance generally, and forced him to let her attempt to make him look, in her words, ‘vaguely acceptable’.

“Maximus looks in a bad way…” she told him, brushing stray locks of hair off his face while Severus sat moodily on the bed, accepting her unwanted attentions. “What shall we do with him?”

“Leave him rot,” Severus replied.

“He has to come to the wedding.”

“On whose orders?”

Leticia tutted. “On your own, you stupid man.”

Severus muttered a few choice words under his breath and frowned heavily. “I will not have the man being violently ill at my reception – it would be an embarrassment enough after it.”

“Shall I make him the potion, or shall you?”

“I am not doing anything for him. I am attempting to get ready for my –”

“I think we’ve all grasped that you are getting married today…” Leticia rolled her eyes dramatically and sat down on the bed beside him. “I know you want today to be perfect; but perfect can’t always operate on your terms.”

“Everyone at our house is either drunk, disorderly, or a combination of the both. Clearly Rosie did not plan yesterday’s events sufficiently… She will never make it to our wedding on time, nor will this ever turn into the semblance of an organised event. I loathe chaos; I loathe chaos especially today.”

“Rosie would never have made it to any occasion on time – you should know that by now. Honestly, Severus, you shouldn’t get so wound up.” She rubbed his arm soothingly. “There’s nothing on this earth that would make Rosie organise herself effectively. If she did, she’d never do anything; and then there would be no wedding whatsoever, no ludicrous beginnings to weddings, and no stories to tell your grandchildren…”

“Somehow that absurd logic feeds my soul.” He sighed. “Do I look presentable?”

Leticia looked at him and smiled. “You look very handsome.” She kissed him on the cheek warmly. “I’ll get Maximus. I’m sure he has some potion or other in his bathroom cabinet. Go to the church, greet the vicar, and I’ll arrange everything here. I’ll even go around to your house to make sure Rosie is not caught up in some increased catastrophe.” She stood up, straightened her suit; Severus copied her, caught her by the arm and embraced her.

“Thank you,” he muttered into her hair.

She broke away. “I don’t think you’ve hugged me since you were ten and I held you on the stairs when mum and dad were rowing.” A sudden rush of something, perhaps pure, unconditional love for his sister, burst through his veins. It seemed strange, sometimes, to recall that he and his sister had shared so much history, despite being so distant from each other. It was still a shock to acknowledge that he did, in fact, very much like her, particularly when she was being helpful.

“My little brother’s getting married!” she cried sentimentally, finally succumbing to teasing him with saccharine comments. She hit his arm, laughed and left the room, calling, “Go to the church!”

*

It was quarter to two, and Severus was becoming tense. His colleagues had arrived only minutes before and were now settled comfortably behind the Weasleys, who Rosie had insisted on inviting, and the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. Slumped, smiling and laughing, next to the adults were various children that he did not wish to be at his wedding. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, his sister and his twin brothers were giggling incessantly at something. Severus was certain he knew who the butt of the joke was. Also in the crowd were Siegfried and Roy, who Rosie had not been able to convince to be bride’s maids, various members of Rosie’s family, and her friends that she had accumulated over the years.

“She’ll be here, don’t fret,” comforted Remus Lupin, who had ended up as the unfortunate person instructed to be Severus’ Best Man.

“I am not fretting,” Severus snapped angrily. He looked over his should to the bench that his limited family were perched upon and sighed – Maximus looked positively green – and then he glanced to the other side, where Rosie’s mother was supposed to be seated. She was not inside the church, either.

“Are all the Watermouths like Rosie?”

“They are from whence she came.” Severus gritted his teeth. “Tell me you have not forgotten to bring the rings.”

Remus gave him a puzzled look.

What?” shouted Severus wildly.

“No – no – calm – it’s all right, I’ve got them! I’ve got them!” Remus hastily amended.

Severus looked murderous. “I would dearly love to –”

But just what Severus would dearly love to do, Remus never fully discovered. Celia Watermouth rushed up to the front of the church and tapped Severus urgently on the shoulder.

“Just thought I should inform you – Rosie’s managed to lock everyone out of the house.”

Remus dissolved into silent laughter, hiding his mouth behind his hand. The blood drained from Severus’ face.

“Surely that is not a problem? They should be on their way here anyway.”

“Well, they should, but I think there was a complication with some of the girls nipping to the Apothecary to get some hangover potions, and so didn’t have their outfits on, and then someone threw a shoe out of an upstairs window, and they all left without their wands, and the door blew shut…” Celia shrugged, smiled and looked at him as if to say: “What else do you expect?” She patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I think a locksmith’s at the house now.”

“A locksmith? And are all of them changed into their formal attire?” Both Remus and Celia stared at him. “No, of course not.” Severus sighed. “When will they be here?”

“Oh, soon-ish, I should think,” Celia said insouciantly, waving a hand.

“Does ‘soon-ish’ have a comprehensive time-scale?” Severus shot back.

Celia looked at him. “Severus, I don’t know when Rosie will be here. Not too long I shouldn’t think. Half an hour?”

“Half an hour? She will be half an hour late?”

Rosie’s mother laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, I was two and a half hours late to my wedding – and my cousins crashed into a taxi and got whiplash on the way… There is much more that could go wrong. Try to relax. Deep breaths.”

Severus obeyed.

“Don’t worry,” said Remus many minutes later. “The reception is all planned. I’ve got the poem to read and everything!”

“The poem?” Severus asked, perplexed.

“Yes… Rosie told me to read one out to everyone. Don’t personally understand it terribly, so I hope I read it all right.”

“Which poem did she ask you to –”

At that moment, the doors to the church hall opened and Rosie, looking flustered but beautiful in her white wedding dress, entered the hall. Severus felt his shoulders relax, and quickly turned to Leticia, who gave him a thumbs up.

Rosie’s father took her up the length of the aisle, and Severus saw behind Rosie a procession of dishevelled, tired and hungover witches carrying small bouquets of flowers. It wasn’t a perfect sight, but it was amusing. Leticia was correct: Rosie and Severus’ wedding couldn’t have occurred without at least one large disaster. Rosie came to a stop beside Severus and looked at him happily, her eyes shining. She grabbed his hand briefly before the vicar stood before them and spoke to the church.

“Guests, welcome! We are gathered here today to witness the joining of Severus Snape and Rosie Watermouth into that holy union of matrimony. The marriage of these two people signifies their commitment to each other, wholly and completely, and their desire to remain with each other, to cherish and honour one another, for the rest of their lives. If anyone knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony please speak now or forever hold your peace.”

There was, thankfully, silence. Severus sighed.

“Now, before we proceed any further, it is time for you two to make your Vows to one another, to symbolise your commitment for everlasting union.”

He had been dreading this moment soundly since it had been announced that he would have to make a Vow to ensure the legal magical binding of their contract. He paused momentarily, shooting Rosie a nervous look, which she smiled warmly at. Reluctantly, he cleared his throat. “Rosie, when I first met you, I found you loud, talkative, forgetful and vaguely entrancing,” Rosie laughed loudly and rolled her eyes, “and yet now I discover that I have a vast, ever-lasting list of complimentary adjectives with which to describe you. I loathe to part with you every time that I am forced to do so, and long, each day, to be with you, to share every moment, every second of my life with you as my wife. I hope my meagre talents as a partner suffice to keep you as elated and fulfilled as you make me. I am yours, forever. I love you. ”

Rosie smiled at his self-deprecation and kissed the air lightly before beginning her own Vow. “How do I love thee? I suppose I shall have to find a way to turn a sonnet into prose. I would love to use that as an analogy for our relationship – and certainly you’ve made my life more coherent – but it would really take the romanticism away from what I have gained from knowing you and would take the sincerity from my Vow. I thank the heavens that I met you, that I was lucky enough to be let into your life: you have trusted, tolerated, appreciated and loved me. Every day I want to be with you more, and realise that I never, whatever may come our way, want to be apart from you. You make me into a person I never thought I could be. I am yours, too, forever. I love you.”

The vicar smiled at them before saying: “Please join hands. Best Man, do you have the rings?”

“I do,” replied Remus, and placed them on the cushion that the vicar was holding in front of him.

“Severus, repeat after me: I, Severus Maximus Snape, take Rosanna Katherine Wallachia Watermouth to be my lawfully wedded wife.”

“I, Severus Maximus Snape, take Rosanna Katherine Wallachia Watermouth…” (Behind him he heard Morven doubled up with laughter; even Rosie was smiling, though it looked like she was hiding some mortification as well.) “…to be my lawfully wedded wife…” The declaration was continued until it was Rosie’s turn to bite out her own name.

“And Rosie, after me: I, Rosanna Katherine Wallachia Watermouth, take Severus Maximus Snape to be my lawfully wedded husband.”

“I, Rosanna Katherine Wa-lamhmhm Watermouth, take Severus Maximus Snape to be my lawfully wedded husband…” There was laughter from the crowd of people gathered.

The rings were placed, shakily, onto each other’s fingers. Severus gave Rosie a fleeting grin before looking expectantly at the vicar.

“I now declare you husband and wife. As requested by the bride: Rosie, you may now kiss the groom.” Rosie laughed amusedly before leaning up and capturing his lips in an ecstatic and warm kiss. Severus kissed back, feeling the waves of realisation wash over his numb yet buzzing body.

As they walked to the doors of the church, arm in comfortable arm, Severus asked, “What poem was it that you asked Remus to read?”

“Huh? Oh, he told you about that?”

“He did,” Severus replied. “Nothing by Thomas Hardy, I trust?”

“I was tempted by ‘The Dead Man Walking’, but I didn’t think it was entirely appropriate. No, it’s ‘Love’ by George Herbert.”

“I see.” He didn’t.

“Our first conversation as husband and wife.” She snuggled closer to him. “You look very handsome, Severus, you know. The envy of all my hungover friends!”

Severus raised a brow. “You look stunning,” he intoned into her ear, kissing the lobe gently. One kiss on the lips later and they were outside the doors of the church, confetti settling on their shoulders, making their first carefree appearance as husband and wife.


A/N: Sorry it has taken so long, chaps, but time is scarce and precious, and writing periods have been very limited. I was caught up with unseen events surrounding university applications that were very stressful and yet had thankfully a good conclusion.

Homo fuge: Fly, O man – from Marlowe’s Dr Faustus. There is one last, last, last chapter, which is merely a glorified epilogue, or perhaps not even glorified, set some years in the future, and then our revels here are ended… Oh… I can quote Shakespeare, too!

‘Love’ by George Herbert goes as follows:

Love bade me welcome: yet my soul drew back,
Guiltie of dust and sinne.
But quick-ey’d Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning,
If I lack’d any thing.

A guest, I answer’d, worthy to be here:
Love said, you shall be he.
I the unkinde, ungratefull? Ah my deare,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth Lord, but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, sayes Love, who bore the blame?
My deare, then I will serve.
You must sit down, sayes Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.


Making Ends Meet by Obadiah Slope [Reviews - 8]

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