Notes: This is written for Laurenke's birthday... twelve months ago. Happy belated birthday! Hope you like it!

The idea that spawned this was the 'Umbrella of Togetherness' (which you can read up on at TvTropes, so long as you promise to come back immediately afterwards. Whole tribes have been lost there, so be careful). It was originally supposed to be a comic, but like another of my posted stories (which no one liked, sadly), what I had in mind was too ambitious for my skills. So, I wrote a story instead. It was also supposed to echo A Very Potter Musical's sense of humor, but the more I worked on it, the less funny it got. (If only I kept the Red Vines...)

Warnings: Rough, un-beta'd, filled with typos. Might (or might not) be set during year 6, so... Also, there's (pre-)Snarry.

Love's Umbrella

It began with a dream about rain.

They were standing together underneath an umbrella. The rain was pouring down, beating a hard, rapid, steady rhythm into the canvas. The umbrella had a feathered pole, and their noses were nearly touching. Green eyes, her eyes, glowing in the grey light. A mark hovered above their heads.

When he awoke, the image of the mark stayed with him, and it took him a while to remember where he had seen it before.

The girls have been giggling themselves sick for weeks over that mark. They wouldn't have told him anything about it, even if he had asked, but he gleamed all the information he needed from a few overheard conversations.

It was supposedly a simple spell. Even a first-year could manage it if she tried. Draw the mark right, and you would see the person you were meant to be with. Draw it another, and it would charm the other person into loving you. It was pure gorgon spit; there was more magic in a bean than there was in a doodle, but girls were stupid that way.

And, apparently, so was he. He dipped his quill into his inkpot and carefully drew the mark into the margin of his book. The lines were smooth and unbroken. The shapes were sound.

When he finally lifted the quill off the page, the lines warped and curled, readying itself for the final step.

He touched one side of the spell with his quill, leaving a single drop on the paper. The drop quickly expanded, forming his name in smooth, fluid lines.

He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and placed a drop on the other side of the spell. As the ink expanded, he held his breath, certain that her name would appear.

Instead of a name, however, the drop formed only a thick, jagged line.

It didn't look like one of the Prince's typical pieces of sound advice. On the margin, next to an affinity list, was a set of notes that the Prince must have, in a fit of anger, scribbled over.

Harry could almost make out the words 'together' and 'names', but rest was nigh-unreadable. Below the notes was a mark, also obscured by scribbles. At the very bottom were even more notes, also slashed through, the letters rushed and cramped together.

Harry stared at the notes, unsure if they meant anything at all. It was possible that they did; the Prince wrote down a lot of useful, insightful things. Then again, it might not be much of anything. After all, there were other places in the book where the Prince had grumbled and sniped at seemingly nothing.

This, however, was the first time Harry had found words the Prince had written down only to scribble over them. That, in and of itself, was worth investigating.

He took out his wand and tried to charm the scribbling off the notes, hoping that would help him see what was written underneath. "Deleo atramentos," he said, tracing over the scribbles with his wand. He stopped when he saw he was erasing the notes underneath as well.

He was able to erase the scribbles over the mark, however. The ink the Prince had used to draw it had been unaffected by the charm. He put his wand aside and pulled out a spare piece of parchment and a quill, intent on making a clean copy of it.

It was fairly easy to draw, just a heart held aloft by an arrow of sorts, flanked at both sides by two blocks of severely scratched-out text. Drawing it would take no time at all.

Harry drew the heart first, then the arrow underneath it. The head of the arrow was a triangle, which he drew starting from the bottom tip of the heart. Down towards the right, across, and back up to the starting point. He then drew the shaft of the arrow, bisecting the triangle before extending down several inches.

As he lifted the quill of the parchment, the ink visibly wobbled, making the shape look less like an arrow and more like a comically small umbrella. The heart at the top visibly swelled.

Harry stared at the mark, taken aback. A drop of ink from his quill fell onto the parchment on one side of the line. It spread out, forming two words.

'Harry Potter'.

Harry jumped to his feet, inadvertedly shaking more ink off of his quill onto the paper. A few drops fell on the other side of the umbrella. He stared in disbelief as the drops slowly spelled out two more words:

'Severus Snape'.

"Well, I don't know what it means either," Hermione nearly shouted in annoyance, startling a couple of second years playing Gobstones by the fire. "I've never even seen that mark before."

"Are you sure that's all you did, Harry?" Ron said, holding the parchment close to his nose. "You didn't say a spell while you were drawing this?"

"What spell? It's not like there's any instructions that went with it," Harry protested. "He scribbled all over them."

Hermione sniffed at that. She was never keen on the Prince, and this was turning into one more point against him. "There was probably a good reason for it, too."

Ron looked up from the parchment, fear in his eyes. "Harry," he said, "what if this means you've just bound yourself to Snape?" Harry stared blankly at him. "Think about it. The notes said something about 'together', right? What if this makes sure that happens?"

"That's a pretty big leap, Ron," Harry said. "It could just be a joke… or some Divination trick."

"Divination trick?" Ron choked. "Why would the Prince write about a stupid Divination trick?"

"And what is the trick divining?" Hermione added.

Harry shrugged and stared at down at the Advanced Potions book in his hands. "Just a guess," he mumbled, his ears burning.

"Well, that makes as much sense as anything," Hermione said. "Maybe, if you let me see the actual notes, I could help you figure out what it says and we can see what this… Prince was trying to hide. Maybe we'll even be able to spell the scribbling off."

"I've already tried that," Harry said, leery of letting Hermione too close to the book. "Besides, I'm sure it's just a joke or something."

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, but kept their thoughts to themselves.

Professor Snape came to dinner late. He stormed up the Great Hall to his usual seat in his usual fashion. His black robes were flaring out behind him. His thin mouth was stretched into a severe frown. His eyes were hard, black coals smothering with rage. He was accompanied by a white, pumpkin-sized cloud over his head, which was just barely keeping pace. The students hushed at the sight.

Harry stared, as did everyone else. Snape looked completely unaffected by the fact that there was a literal cloud hanging over him. He looked angry, of course, but he always looked angry. The only difference tonight was that his dark expression was made uglier and more ominous by the cloud overhead.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered under his breath as Snape strode past them. The cloud flashed and rumbled. "What do you think caused that?"

"Aside from magic, you mean?" Seamus whispered mockingly from two seats down.

Snape took his seat at the Head Table, shooting a glare at Harry as he sat down. The look made Harry's insides squirm in a not-unpleasant way.

"It's probably a sign of stress," Hermione said as Professor Flitwick leaned towards Snape to say a few words.

"Snape? Stressed out?" Ron interjected. "Perish the thought."

Snape dismissed Flitwick with a turn of his head and took a sip from the goblet set in front of him. Professor Dumbledore turned towards Snape next, but Snape looked ready to ignore him as well. The cloud above Snape's head started to swell from all the attention.

Harry wished they would stop staring. It was obvious to him that they were only making things worse.

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione huffed. "You act as if you've never seen clouds formed from an overabundance of magic and stress before."

"That's because I haven't," Ron retorted. "You can't tell me that sort of thing happens all the time."

"Actually," Hermione started with a gleam in her eye before launching into an impromptu lecture on supercells and magical stress.

Harry was only half-listening. Snape was staring back at Harry again. His elbow was on the table and his fingers were rubbing together, as if the professor could gauge his own irritation the same way he felt the quality of lacewing flies and ground asphodel seeds.

Harry met his stare, consciously trying not to blink. Hermione's rambling, Ron's chewing, the sounds of the Hall quieted around him as Harry stared into Snape's eyes.

Lightning crackled just underneath the fluffy white surface of the cloud, casting sharp shadows across Snape's face.

Was this a result of that umbrella mark?, Harry wondered, absentmindedly licking his lips.

Ron waved his hand in front of Harry's face, breaking his concentration. The noise of the Hall crashed in, momentarily deafening him. "You all right there, Harry?" Ron said. Hermione gave him a concerned look.

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine," he said, glancing up that the staff table one more time. Snape was looking away. "Just fine."

It had been a mistake to go the Great Hall for dinner. The chicken was dry, the alcohol was limited, and the unwanted advice was plentiful. Severus should have known better.

"Try a bubble bath," Albus suggested. "It will relax you."

"It is a sign of doom," Sybil moaned. "The dark eye with malice that crackles and flashes... an enemy hovers above like a knife..."

"You merely need to smile more," Filius admonished. "I'm certain a Cheering Charm will clear it all away."

"Or tea," Pomona added. "There's nothing a good cuppa can't fix."

"I could lend yeh me umbrella," Rubeus offered. "If yeh needed it."

Minerva, bless her soul, made no comment at dinner. She only choked on her food after holding back her laughter.

Severus had sneered at the suggestions and comments. He refused Filius' charm and ignored Sybil outright. He did follow Albus' and Pomona's advice, substituting the bubbles with a healthy amount of wine, and the tea with more wine, but the cloud refused to dissipate. No amount of relaxation and inebriation was enough to make it blow away.

In fact, Severus was convinced that all the suggested 'relaxation' was making the situation worse. The wine was making his thoughts wander down paths they shouldn't go, and the 'relaxing' hot bath was not helping. A thin bolt of lightning struck the floor, reminding him of Potter. The cloud rumbled and grew at the thought.

He splashed water onto his face to clear his head, but Potter was still there, watching him with wide, searching eyes. He leaned back against the rim of the tub and stared up at darkening cloud above him.

How he was going to sleep tonight with this looming over him, he had no idea.

The cloud was nearly a meter tall the next morning, fat and anvil-like. Any minute now, it was going to unleash a storm for one. Severus hoped the charms on his head and clothes would keep him dry.

He wandered through the grey, empty halls with the crackling, darkening cloud for company. For the moment, Severus and his cirrose friend had the castle to themselves. As he turned the corner towards his office, however, he quickly realized that he wasn't alone. Potter was loitering in the halls, leaning against Snape's office door with an umbrella in his hand.

"Mr. Potter," Severus said, startling the boy. The umbrella, a black, stodgy thing, nearly lost its transfigured shape as it fell to the ground. Potter scrambled to grab it, clutching it tightly against his chest.

Severus opened his mouth, ready to berate the boy for getting an unnaturally early start to his mischief, when the cloud let out a particularly loud crack of thunder. It was the only warning he was given before the rainstorm broke. Cold water poured down on Snape, sliding off his charmed hair and running over his face.

Potter rushed forward, nearly smacking Severus with the umbrella as he struggled to get it open. He held the umbrella up over both their heads. His free arm was getting drenched from the rain.

"Potter-"

"Don't get me wrong," Potter protested, cutting him off. His face was red and his eyes were fixated on the buttons of Snape's robes. "It's just that I have an umbrella you can borrow."

Tiny bits of down fluffed out of the umbrella's pole. "I can't say I believe you," Severus said. Rain was still dripping from his nose as the rain pounded against the umbrella's black canopy.

Potter glanced up at Severus' face. His cheeks and ears were red, as were his lips, parted and wet with rain. His eyes were wide. Severus had forgotten how green they were, how tall the boy had gotten. They were nearly the same height now. A couple of centimeters more, and Potter would overtake him.

Potter was trembling slightly. "It's the truth," he protested, his voice soft. The rain was seeping into Severus' shoes. Potter licked his lips nervously.

Severus was cold, even as his own face grew warm. Potter's face was too close. Severus could feel the boy's hitched breath against his mouth. Their noses ghosted against each other.

The cloud, tired of being ignored, decided to let out one last powerful bolt before dissipating. It used the last of its energy to strike the umbrella with a vicious bolt of lightning.

Severus was knocked back and off his feet, slamming against the wall. A painful ringing filled his ears and his head throbbed from the impact, but he gritted his teeth and slowly dragged himself back to his feet.

Potter was on the floor, completely still. Snape stumbled towards him, his legs unsteady underneath him. In the boy's hand was what remained of the transfigured umbrella, a singed quill wrapped in parchment.

Severus dropped painfully to his knees and placed a hand on Potter's throat, searching for a sign that the boy still lived. His heartbeat was weak, but it was there. His shallow breaths chilled Snape's wet face.

He lifted Potter's head off the floor and cradled it in his arm. "Wake up, Potter," he urged, his voice rising as he lightly slapped the boy's cheek.

Potter's eyes opened almost halfway before giving up entirely. He then smiled drowsily and made a second, more successful attempt. He stared up at Severus with dilated, half-opened eyes. "Does this mean... we're together?" he asked in a rough, airy voice.

The lightning must have addled the boy's brains on top of everything else. "What are you talking about?" he said, his voice just as quiet, just as rough.

Potter replied by weakly lifting the parchment-wrapped quill in his hand. He held it out for Severus. It took a moment for him to realize Potter intended for him to take it.

He grabbed hold of the boy's hand. Despite the stains and calluses, the two hands looked oddly similar.

"Snape," Potter said again. His eyes were drifting shut. "There's a bogey... dangling out your nose."

Severus scowled, wiped at his nose, and hauled the boy to his feet. Potter made a small noise of protest, but stayed quiet as Severus dragged them both to the Hospital Wing.

Harry was awake and absentmindedly poking at his breakfast when Hermione and Ron came by to pay a visit. He straightened up and gave them a wan smile in greeting.

"We came by earlier, but you were still sleeping," Hermione said apologetically as she took the chair by the bed. "How do you feel?"

Harry thought about what to say for a long moment before settling on, "Fine." He wasn't fine, however. It hadn't worked. He didn't think it would have, and he still felt like a fool for even trying it in the first place. A small part of him had hope that it would, after all. "At least, for someone who got struck by lightning," he added lamely.

Ron fished out some chocolate frogs from his pocket and handed one to Harry. "Well," he said as he tore his open and took a bite out of his frog, "I guess your luck was bound to run out sometime."

Harry stopped struggling with his own frog and glanced up at Ron. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Ron reasoned, "you were down in the dungeons, right? And not only were you caught by Snape, you get caught by his freak storm, too? Doesn't seem very lucky to me."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice sounding a bit listless. "Not very lucky at all."

"About that," Hermione said, staring at Harry with barely contained curiosity. "What were you doing down there in the first place?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, a bit too quickly. Hermione frowned, and even Ron caught just how jumpy Harry sounded, if the puzzled look on his face was any indication. "I woke early and was just... wandering."

They didn't look like they believed him. Before Hermione could ask a follow-up question, however, Snape stormed into the Hospital Wing, dry and cloud-free. The sound of his shoes pounding on the stone floor made all three of them jerk. Hermione bolted to her feet and Ron squared his shoulders. Harry, for his part, felt as if his whole body had frozen over.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, it's time for you to go to class," he said, glaring at all three of them. Ron and Hermione did not budge, however. Ron looked ready to argue with the professor over their right to stay. "Leave," he growled when they did not immediately obey.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who gave her a reassuring nod. "We'll see you later," she said. She tugged at Ron's arm and together they slowly skirted around Professor Snape and out of the Wing.

Snape glowered at their backs and waited for the door to close behind them before turning his attention to Harry.

"Once again, you've survived something that would have killed lesser men," Snape sneered. "You truly are the Chosen One."

Harry scowled but held his tongue. He blanched as Snape took out a singed, parchment-wrapped quill.

"I believe this is yours," he said as he threw the quill onto the bed. Harry snatched it up and held it tight against his chest. "It looks like even simple transfiguration spells are beyond you. It makes one wonder just how... special you are."

The quill was cracking inside his grip. "Did you... look inside?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that I didn't," he said.

Harry tugged at the parchment, unraveling it. "Then, you know." His face was red. "How I feel about you." He spread the parchment out on his lap, exposing the mark with their names.

Snape's face was the color of sour milk, though his sneer only widened to bare his teeth. "Trying out love charms, Potter? You do know it takes more than writing two names together to woo a heart."

"I didn't write the names," Harry said. "They appeared on their own after I drew the umbrella."

Snape's complexion actually grew worse. His shoulders hunched slightly before jerking straight again. "You lie." he drawled.

"I'm not." Harry protested before a thought occured to him. "You know what this mark means, don't you?"

"It means nothing."

Harry rose to a kneeling position, finding himself face-to-face with the professor. "It's proof that we're meant to be together," he insisted.

"Only a teenager would give such trivial fluff any real meaning."

"Snape, I love y-"

"And I loathe and despise y-," Snape spat, yelling over Harry's declaration.

Harry furiously grabbed hold of the front of Snape's robes and shoved his mouth onto Snape's before he could finish. Their noses smashed together, his glasses were jabbing into his cheek, and Snape's lips were hard and dry and tasted a bit like salt. It filled Harry with so much feeling, he tried to shuffle a bit closer for more. Snape shoved him away, nearly knocking him off the bed.

Snape wiped at his mouth. "It's be a hundred years before I'd even consider feeling anything other than sheer hate for you!" he snarled, his voice barely kept in check. "Is that clear?" He turned on his heel as Harry tried to grab another handful of Snape's robes. Snape snapped his robes away. "Don't touch me," he snapped before storming off without waiting for a reply.

Harry glared at Snape's back, wishing that the man would just look at him and come back. He pounded his fist into the bed as Snape slammed the door behind him. The thump it made was not satisfying at all.

The girls said that, if drawn right, the mark would show the person you were meant to be with. Drawn another way, and it would charm the person into loving you. Severus knew that it was all thestral dung, and yet, here he was again.

He drew the mark slowly, pouring every putrid ounce of his hatred onto the parchment. There was no way Potter was the one. The boy had drawn it wrong. He drew it for charming hearts, and that was why Severus could not stop thinking about the infernal brat.

The lines warped as they had before, forming a tiny, nonsensical umbrella. He placed a drop onto one side of the umbrella, scowling as it formed his name, just as it did all those years ago.

He moved the quill over to the other side of the umbrella and found himself hesitating, suddenly afraid of what it would show. The ink gathered at the tip, waiting for gravity to drag it down onto the parchment.

The End