FIC: Die a Little - Day Four, HP, SS/SB, NC-17
Title: Die a Little - Day Four
Author: Kleio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/SB
Summary: "I know you'll find it hard to believe" - Snape's hands travelled down Sirius' chest and stopped on his hips, pulling him closer - "but not all of us are fascinated by your posterior."
Notes: Again, I owe a mountain of gratitude to fluffyllama for the beta and to trobadora for all her help and advice - I love you both dearly!:)
Day Four
It had taken Sirius a bit longer than he had expected to get out of the bed, and when he finally put his weight on both of his legs, the night was already turning into morning. Judging by the total absence of pain, he knew he could have left long before that. Yet the night had passed listening to Snape's snoring, starting at every move he made, and counting the strikes of the downstairs clock. For some reason, the thought of the cellar had sounded less tempting with each passing hour, until it had seemed merely stupid to leave the warm and comfortable bed.
Snape was still fast asleep, curled up right on the edge of the bed. Looking at him, Sirius saw nothing but grizzle and bones, wrapped in sallow skin. For the death of him, he could not figure out why he had spent most of the night thinking about those long, white fingers in his hair and those thin lips, pressing hard against his own.
With a shudder, Sirius turned his back to the sleeping figure.
Even more baffling than his nocturnal insanity, however, had been the way Snape had acted: first denying the snog in the kitchen, and then kissing him again, so as to prove that he had no interest in him. Yet Sirius was certain the man had been playing with the idea of rape since day one, dangling it in front of him with the sole intention of showing him that should he want to do it, he could. It was all about power to him, and Sirius was well aware of that. Just how far Snape was prepared to take this charade, he could only fear.
Sirius had just reached the bedroom door when he heard the knocking echo through the empty house. It took him only an instant to realise where it was coming from, and with a bright smile on his face, he shouted from the top of his lungs.
"Here! I'm up here!"
That was all he could manage before the collar tightened around his neck, and Sirius fell to his knees in the doorway. From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape get out of bed and hurry to the window.
"That blasted owl was quicker than I expected." Pulling on his robes, Snape walked to the door and stepped over Sirius. "Get up, Black, this isn't the time to loiter around."
Grabbing the half-conscious Sirius by the arm, Snape started dragging him down the stairs. Gasping for air, Sirius did his best to break free and crawl to open the front door, but Snape's hold merely tightened along with that of the collar.
"Will you kindly stop fidgeting?" Snape snarled at him. "You don't honestly think I would let you open any more doors after yesterday's fiasco, do you?"
When they reached the foot of the steps, he twirled Sirius around and, not too unexpectedly, guided him away from the knocking. They came to a sudden halt in front of the solid wall under the stairs. One light tap on the panels, and a door opened where there had been none before.
"Get in. And try not to exhaust yourself by screaming - I can tell you that it's an utter waste of time and energy."
And with that, he shoved Sirius onto the floor of the hidden cupboard and slammed the door shut.
As soon as Snape was gone, the collar loosened, and Sirius could fill his lungs again, only to empty them in a frantic scream.
"Help! Here! I'm in here!"
Sirius paused, trying hard to listen to what was happening on the other side of the door.
"Headmaster, what brings you here at such an early hour?" he heard Snape ask.
The door creaked a little as it was closed, and two sets of footsteps sounded in the hall.
"I do apologise for the hour, Severus," said Dumbledore's voice. "But I'm afraid I was woken quite early this morning as well, and by one of your owls, no less."
"I'm here! Albus! In here!"
Sirius was shouting and banging his fists against the door of the cupboard, and yet the men standing not more than ten feet away appeared to hear nothing. It was beginning to dawn upon him what Snape had meant by wasting time and energy.
"But I haven't sent an owl."
"I know you haven't, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "This one was carrying the most peculiar message - from Sirius Black."
Sirius heard Snape make a strange sort of noise, which resembled quite uncannily the snort of a Hippogriff, but which he interpreted as laughter.
"That is news, indeed, for I was under the impression that Black is in no position to send owls, least of all mine. Surely this is some poor creature's notion of humour."
"Yet I fail to find anything amusing in this," said Dumbledore, his footsteps sounding in the hall. "So, you understand why I needed to see you."
Sirius' eyes had adapted to the darkness and he could only just make out the outline of the door. Into that tiny crack around it he pushed his face and cried out once more in despair.
"I'm right here! Albus!"
But the two voices had already grown fainter, indicating that they had left the hall.
Disappointed, Sirius sat down on the floor of the cupboard and stared into the darkness. Dumbledore had received his letter, he had come to the house, and yet there was nothing Sirius could do to make his presence known to him.
"You bastard!" he yelled to the one responsible. "You complete and utter bastard!"
Why the hell did Snape even have such a room in the first place? It was hardly the habit of Death Eaters to lock their victims in silenced cupboards and wait for them to break. Wondering whether Snape used the space for some entirely different and even more perverted purpose, Sirius leant his head against the wall and traced the outline of the door with his finger.
In the tiny stream of light, coming in through the crack, Sirius noticed something carved in the doorframe. At first he thought they were just two short, curvy lines, nothing more than scratches, a cat's perhaps, but the closer he looked, the more of those lines he saw, running down the frame. He felt around the walls and found variations of those markings carved in them all around him. Some were a pair of parallel waves, some more like two bolts of lightning, and some... Some were simply two distinct letters 'SS'.
Continuing further away from the door, Sirius' fingers came across much larger engravings, whole pictures of what seemed to be the interests of a young child: broomsticks, Quidditch hoops, flames and some kinds of explosions - the last of which Sirius found slightly disturbing. Higher up on the wall there were also quite a few snakes, although most of them seemed to be missing their bodies and were merely heads with only a short part of the body carved below them. Then his hand stopped on what seemed to be two stickmen, drawn very close together, one considerably smaller than the other, and with a short, horizontal line running from the middle of the larger figure straight to the head of the smaller one.
With sudden disgust, Sirius jumped away from the wall.
Till then, he had merely thought that his mother must not have been the only one to have rather strict methods of raising children, but at least in the house of Black it had not entailed sexual abuse. It made him sick to think that Snape's father had done such monstrous things to his own son, a small defenceless child.
However, all of the warm sentiments he had just developed for Snape were soon wiped away as he heard the two men walk back into the hall.
"...And to punish the half-witted creature who is behind this macabre prank," said Snape's voice, growing louder as they drew nearer. "Only then will we be able put this unfortunate incident behind us. Still, I cannot fathom how this prankster got hold of my owl, but I assure you that I do not appreciate my name being associated with something as vulgar as this."
Grabbing the first thing that his hand happened to find, Sirius started banging on the door, screaming like a madman. He was perfectly aware that it was meaningless, and yet he had to do something, to know that he had at least tried.
"Albus!" he shouted from the top of his lungs. "I'm in here!"
"I don't believe we'll have any trouble finding the culprit in this matter, Severus."
"Really?"
Instantly, Sirius stopped the banging, holding his breath.
"Oh, I'm quite certain I already know who sent that letter," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I came here only to ascertain that things were just as I thought and to settle my poor nerves. I trust you don't think too ill of the one behind all this? I'm sure he only did what he thought was..."
"Humorous?"
"Right," Dumbledore said, but the tone of his voice gave the impression that he was just finishing his sentence rather than agreeing with Snape.
The door creaked again and the warm breeze reached even the hidden cupboard.
"It is a dangerous thing to meddle with death," Dumbledore said in a deep voice, the one Sirius had only heard him use in the most serious matters. Then he added softer, "Even for the best of reasons."
"I agree," Snape replied rigidly. "That is precisely why I think this prank shows such poor taste."
Dumbledore sighed loud enough for even Sirius to hear.
"I do hope I'm right about this," he said. "But I trust you, Severus, and I'm certain you will be worthy of that trust."
"Thank you, Headmaster."
"Well, I must be off. There's so much to do these days, far too much for an old man like me." Dumbledore's voice moved further away, and Sirius could barely hear him any more. All he could make out was, "...the sooner this fuss is behind us, the better..." and "...remember what I've said, Severus."
"No!" Sirius screamed in panic. "Albus!"
But with a heavy thump, the door closed.
It did not take long for the other one to open, though.
"Get out," Snape snarled and pulled Sirius into the dazzling brightness of the hall. "So, I'm mad, am I?"
"I wrote it and I stand firmly behind every word of it." Sirius was clenching his teeth hard enough to hear them grind, putting every effort into forgetting any sympathy for that devil the engravings in the cupboard had aroused in him.
"You utter bastard!" Snape growled and shoved Sirius against the wall. He grabbed hold of Sirius' face, squeezing his jaw between his fingers as if intending to break it into pieces. "Did you honestly think that the great Dumbledore would believe a word of that ludicrous letter and come to your rescue?"
"Well, yes," Sirius muttered with difficulty, staring Snape straight in the eye. "As a matter of fact I did, and I wasn't too far off, either, was I?"
"Apart from the fact that he thought the letter was just some poor sod's attempt at humour, you mean."
"Fuck off, Snape," Sirius spat, trembling with anger. He knew it was a pathetic thing to say to one's captor, especially after the captive's only hope of escape had just been stamped out. "Just fuck off and die."
To his surprise, Snape obeyed and let go of him, but the gesture had more of the feel of throwing away something quite repugnant. Breathing heavily, he watched Snape walk away from him, and tried his best to imagine that the man had once been but a small, frightened child, locked in a cupboard under the stairs with nothing better to do than to carve his initials into the doorframe.
When reaching the first step of the staircase, Snape halted and turned his expressionless eyes to Sirius.
"I nearly forgot. As you are obviously fit enough to move again, there are a few things I want done today. I shall have the list for you after breakfast."
Watching him ascend the stairs, Sirius was certain the child within him must have died a slow and gruesome death.
*****
Cursing Messrs Muscle, Ajax and Persil to the lowest circles of hell, Sirius fished the two grey towels out of the tub and hurled them to the floor. He had emptied every bloody bottle of those Muggle potions that Snape had presented him with, and yet the towels were no nearer to being white than they had been an hour ago. If anything, Sirius was fairly sure the greyness had only deepened, as if the two towels were combining their strengths to create the most permanent stain known in the history of washing.
Where was Mrs Scower when one needed her? None of the Muggle cleansers could compare with her wonderful, although admittedly rather smelly, Magical Mess Remover. He was particularly disappointed at Mr Muscle who had, after all, promised to love the jobs he hated, and by Paracelsus, Sirius did hate washing.
The mountain of dishes he had already done away with and the stack of robes he had ironed - the smell of burning flesh constantly around him - had been nothing compared to the agonies those two innocent-looking towels had put him through. If he had not been dead to begin with, he was certain the vapours from the detergents, with which he had been filling his lungs for quite some time, would have been enough to send him behind the veil. And yet the towels refused to turn any whiter.
"Right," Sirius said to himself. "It's time to bring in the big boys. Persil, Ajax, Muscle - meet Super Chloride, the restorer of all things white."
Turning his head away, Sirius opened the bottle he had only sniffed before and instantly decided Snape had placed it there with the sole intension of knocking him unconscious. He poured the whole bottle into the tub and threw in the towels. The smell was nauseating, but Sirius kept stirring the towels round and round, making sure the Super Chloride was spread over them evenly. To his surprise and ultimate joy, the towels were beginning to look lighter and lighter, until finally he could quite clearly tell them apart from the grey water around them.
Smiling happily, Sirius reached down to pull the plug and opened the tab to rinse them out. Only now did he happen to glance down at his hands and screamed in shock.
There was hardly any skin left on either of them, only pink flesh and blisters from the wrists down. He had felt the burning on them when washing the towels but had simply pinned it down on the hot water and thought nothing more of it. But the water would have to have been boiling to cause that much damage, and there was no such luxury in Snape's house.
"You did this to me!" he shouted at the empty bottle of chloride. "What the fuck do they think they're doing, putting toxins in innocent looking packages! Those bloody Muggles! And that bastard Snape… Snape!" he yelled, storming out of the bathroom. "For fuck's sake, Snape! Where are you?"
Sirius got halfway down the corridor before Snape's dark figure appeared in the doorway of his study.
"What's all this shouting about?" he asked, clearly annoyed, but Sirius could not have cared less about what delicate potion brewing session he had interrupted. "And I would prefer it if you called me Master."
"I don't have time for your bloody domination fantasies! Look at my hands!" he shouted at him, shoving his hands an inch away from his face. "Look what those Muggle potions did to me!"
Snape said nothing and merely examined the burnt skin.
"It was that Super-bloody-whatsit! You put it there on purpose, didn't you, you sick bastard?"
"Of course I put it there on purpose," Snape said coldly, turning around and pulling Sirius by the arm to follow him. "However, I did make the wild assumption that you would only use it on the garments and not on yourself, but clearly I misjudged you. Quelle surprise."
As soon as they were inside the study, Snape halted and left Sirius standing by the door.
"Stay."
Snape strode across the room to the desk, which was laden with a number of bottles and jars, most likely containing rather suspicious if not highly illegal ingredients. There was the same smell in the room as before, clearly coming from the large cauldron which simmered quietly in the fireplace. Snape had evidently been in the middle of preparing more of that delicious potion Sirius had been forced to drink each morning, and he was not too happy to have been interrupted.
"You could've mentioned something about that stuff being toxic," Sirius grunted, looking down at his poor hands.
"It does say so on the bottle, had you cared to read it first," came Snape's voice from somewhere inside the huge cabinet he was rummaging about in.
"Oh, this is my fault now, is it?"
"Entirely," Snape said, returning with a smoking bowl in his hand. "Put them in here."
Sirius shoved his hands into the purple liquid and screamed.
"Bloody hell! It stings!"
"It's basic wound-cleaning potion; it's supposed to sting, you imbecile."
Biting his lip, Sirius stood quietly while Snape pulled his hands from the potion and applied the most foul-smelling balm imaginable over them. He worked slowly, almost tenderly, evidently trying to avoid touching the repulsive remains of Sirius' hands any more than was necessary.
Sirius was suddenly very aware of Snape's presence: the touch of his black robes as they swept against his skin, the sound of his heavy breathing as he concentrated on applying the balm. It reminded him of the previous night when Snape had rescued him from underneath the collapsed shack, and how he had treated his wounds with such care that, had it been anybody else, it would have almost had the air of compassion.
Thinking about the night before, Sirius caught himself raising his hand to his lips, but luckily the smell of the balm stopped him in time.
There was yet again a burning sensation, then a stomach-turning sizzling sound, and under Sirius' very eyes, his hands were healed in a matter of seconds.
"Are there any more of those?" Snape asked in a voice Sirius was not particularly keen on. "Perhaps, somewhere else on your body?"
"No, that was all," Sirius said quickly, turning to leave. "I didn't actually bathe in the stuff, if that's what you mean."
But Snape grabbed a tight hold of his arm, refusing to let him go just yet.
"You know, " he said slowly, as he swirled Sirius around and pressed himself against his back, "I've been thinking about last night. About what you said."
This was precisely the turn Sirius had not wanted the conversation to take.
"Before that," Snape whispered, his lips nearly touching Sirius' ear, "it had never even occurred to me to do the things you were so afraid I would do."
"Bollocks."
"I know you'll find it hard to believe" - Snape's hands travelled down Sirius' chest and stopped on his hips, pulling him closer - "but not all of us are fascinated by your posterior."
Sirius could feel his insides nearing boiling point. Dumbledore's visit had already robbed him of any hope of escape, in addition to which he had nearly lost his hands to some Muggle potions. All in all, it was pretty safe to say that the day had been tiring enough as it was without Snape making yet another speech about how repulsive he found him.
"Fine. Couldn't be happier. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear the towels calling me."
"However," Snape carried on, undeterred, "one cannot help but wonder what is the origin of these fears you appear to have." He pressed himself against Sirius hard enough for him to feel something rubbing against his arse. "Perhaps they are not fears at all," he drawled, as his hand travelled down Sirius' stomach, "but rather, hidden desires."
That was it. Sirius had already suffered days of abuse and humiliation from Snape, but enough was enough, and that was where he drew the line. He was not gay, and even if he were, there were broomsticks more attractive than Snape!
"Are you taking the piss?"
"By no means," Snape answered, pressing himself even closer to Sirius' back.
His fingers were already dangerously close to the tea towel and soon they would find their way underneath it. Swiftly Sirius grabbed hold of his hands and managed to slip free from his hold.
"Oh, I see!" he exclaimed with a broad smile as he turned to face him. "I simply imagined the little wank you had in the bathtub, just like I imagined the innuendo about the pawn eating the king! And of course you never snogged me, right? No, it's all just in my head!"
"Calm yourself, Black."
"No, no... " Sirius backed further away from his, shaking his head. "It's so obvious that I fancy you! How could have I missed it? Luckily I have you here to tell me what I want, even when I'm too thick to realise it! So, why don't we just get it over with? Right here, right now."
"Stop it," Snape said quietly, but Sirius had already hurried to the fireplace.
"Perhaps here, in front of the fire, on all fours?" he said, stopping by the steaming cauldron. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? You could even burn some nasty mark on my skin, brand me as your personal property. What fun!"
"Shut up, Black."
"Then there is, of course, the chair," he said, going round and round the big armchair with Snape after him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just sitting back while I suck your smelly cock. The pawn eating the king, eh?"
"Quiet!"
"Or maybe you'd prefer the table," he said, rushing to the desk before Snape could get hold of him. "You could tie my hands behind my back, in case you wanted to underline the fact that you're fucking me against my will, which isn't true, of course, but we can pretend that I still don't know anything about my 'hidden desires'."
"I said, quiet!" Snape shouted, finally catching up with him and squeezing his arm tightly.
"What?" Sirius spat in his face. "That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Shut up!"
"I'm not spoiling all the fun for you, am I?" Sirius barked with laughter. "Tell you what - I promise to put up a bit of a fight, beg for mercy and all that, just to get you in the mood. How's that sound? Ready to give me a good one?"
The smile was soon wiped off Sirius' face. Snape took hold of his head with both hands, and before Sirius could realise what was happening, he had shut his mouth with his own. It was the third time Snape had kissed him, yet it never ceased to shock him. Snape's lips stayed longer on his than the first time, but there was the same feeling of urgency and awkwardness, both of which had been absent the second time. Sirius felt paralysed, only barely able to stay upright and leaning heavily against the desk behind him. He knew he should do something to fight the man off, but all he could think about were the warm waves, emanating from his mouth and sweeping over his dead body.
Without much thought, Sirius' hands wandered onto Snape's waist, but instead of pushing him away, he found himself pulling the man even closer to him. Snape opened his eyes, clearly as surprised by his reaction as Sirius himself, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked, both waiting for the other one to make the next move. It took Sirius only a fraction of a second to make up his mind and press his lips against Snape's, sucking them almost violently. His whole body seemed to revolve around his mouth, leaving the rest of him in its shade, because at that very moment, there was nothing more important to him than kissing Snape's lips.
However, when Snape pulled back, Sirius' reason was quick to find him again, bringing his anger on its tail.
"Warming up, eh?" he said, glaring at Snape, who was wiping his mouth in haste. "Then I better get my arse in place for the main event." He turned to the desk, shaking his head. "Now, this just needs a bit of clearing up before..."
"No, Black, do not--"
With one sweep of hand, all the jars, bottles, parchments and books were wiped off the table. The sound of breaking glass filled the room and odd-coloured smoke began to rise from the floor, as all the different ingredients mixed together.
"You fool!" Snape cried out, kneeling down to save what there still was to be saved. "That was meant for your potion, you bloody nitwit!"
But Sirius could hardly hear him any more. The moment his hand had touched the desk, the collar had started choking him, and gasping for air, he had fallen facedown on the table. He pulled and struggled, trying to tear the collar off, but as before, his failure was inevitable.
When air surged through his lungs again, Sirius' initial reaction was to reach behind him but his hand met nothing but air. He pushed himself up and found Snape standing by the desk, looking down at the remains of his potion ingredients.
"Evanesco," he muttered and the colourful stain on the carpet vanished, along with the shards of glass. "That applies to you too, Black."
For the first time genuinely glad to obey Snape's order, Sirius stumbled out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He only managed to take a few steps down the corridor, though, before his knees gave in and he collapsed to the floor. His heart was beating far too fast and his breathing showed no signs of slowing down, but somehow Sirius was certain it had nothing to do with his little performance in the study. He knew he should have considered himself lucky to have escaped from Snape's clutches once more, yet the pounding in his chest seemed to indicate something quite different.
"I don't fancy him," he whispered to the empty corridor. "I don't even like him."
"Then you really shouldn't have kissed him, dear," answered a soft female voice.
*****
Darkness had already fallen over the moors when Sirius began climbing up the stairs. The collar had never before felt as much like a noose around his neck. He would have much rather headed down to the cellar, but an order was an order.
Dinner had been eaten in silence. Not even the roast - or rather, charred - beef had raised a comment from Snape, and Sirius had watched him patiently scrape off the thick, black crust until the striped meat had looked quite uncannily like a roasted zebra.
He had been in the middle of clearing the table when Snape had ordered him to spend the night in his room and made him break yet another plate to pieces. Naturally Sirius had tried to tell him that he did not even sleep and would only keep the man awake with his fidgeting, but Snape's half-smile had indicated quite clearly that the man saw this merely as a bonus.
Halfway up the stairs, Sirius stopped, certain that he had heard something nearby. The hall below seemed as empty as ever, and there was no reason to think Snape was anywhere but in his bed, waiting for him. Still Sirius had a definite feeling of being watched, and more importantly, laughed at.
"Going up there to finish what you started earlier, giant elf?" said the voice right by his ear, and nearly made Sirius fall down the stairs as he jumped away from the portrait.
"Bugger off, Gengulphus."
"Still haven't learnt how to address your betters, I see. And from what I hear, you've been rather a naughty house-elf in other respects as well, haven't you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, sending that owl, for one," Gengulphus said innocently, as if not wanting to brag with his knowledge. "Which one did you use, by the way?"
"Why is everybody so interested in which bloody owl I used?" Sirius exclaimed. "The dark brown one, all right? What's it to you?"
"Oh, nothing. Just being curious."
The quick grin did not escape Sirius and reminded him disturbingly much of Gengulphus' offspring.
"And then there was the incident of trashing your master's study," the portrait continued.
"Evidently you already know everything there is to know, so why not just leave me alone," Sirius grunted. "Bloody hell, there aren't even pictures in the study!"
"Yes, but luckily my Aunt Dahlia's portrait is outside in the hall, right opposite the door, and well... People do tend to forget to close the doors when they are in a hurry."
Till then, Sirius had been certain he had merely imagined the voice in the corridor, so he was relieved to find that his insanity had not yet reached the voice-hearing stage.
"So, she saw us," he said, stopping and turning towards the nuisance. "Why do you care?"
A rather wicked smile grew on Gengulphus' face as he sat down in a chair, whose owner he had evidently ejected to some other portrait.
"Well, according to Dahlia, you two had an argument, and something happened which she was too much of a prude to describe but which I can easily guess."
Gengulphus looked as happy as a man who had just done his wife in.
Lowering his voice, as if to tell Sirius a secret, he continued, "But what dear Dahlia didn't quite grasp - for she isn't exactly the sharpest quill in the shop - was why you kept offering your behind to Severus and he kept chasing you around the room. Poor creature thought it was some sort of a game."
Sirius thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe it was. If only I knew on whose side I'm playing."
"Well, there's scarcely any doubt about that after today." With a sneer, Gengulphus looked Sirius up and down. "What ever the attraction in you is, though, I shall never know."
"No, I trust you would not, you degenerate oaf," said a voice at the top of the stairs.
The look on Snape's face was left in the shadow of the candle he was holding, but the tone of his voice was clear enough. Gengulphus, on the other hand, did not seem to sense the danger.
"How dare you call me degenerate!" he bellowed, jumping up from his chair and striding right to the edge of the picture frame. "It is one thing for a house-elf to have such tendencies, but you!"
"Oi!" Sirius cut in but was drowned by the shouting portrait.
"I swear that it is not from my side of the family you've inherited those disgusting perversions of yours!" Gengulphus roared, his bald head shining bright red. "One might have hoped that you would at least get a shred of the pride we Snapes are noted for and keep your twisted preferences to yourself, but evidently that trait has completely passed you by! You are a disgrace! And with a house-elf, no less..."
Sirius felt rather grateful to see the yellow string shoot across the air and burn yet another hole in the canvas, putting an end to Gengulphus' babbling.
"One more word from you and we shall see whether your precious pride will put down flames, as well." The draught in the house seemed to have increased, for the candle in Snape's hand shook quite uncontrollably. "Black. Follow me."
*****
By far the worst were the minutes right after he had slipped under the covers, next to Snape's naked body. Lying rigid as a broomstick, Sirius stared at the canopy above him and waited for the first touch. When the order to turn his back to him came, he found himself almost relieved, thinking that it would all be over soon enough. Snape pressed his cold body against his back, his breathing burning by his ear, and his hand wandering across Sirius' chest for a good while before settling down on his waist.
It was not the hand, however, that worried Sirius, but the hardened cock, forcing its way between his buttocks.
"I thought you said that you had no interest in my arse," Sirius whispered.
"I meant what I said," Snape muttered, his mouth brushing against Sirius' shoulder. "How could I possibly be interested in something so..."
"Let me guess," Sirius cut in. "Repulsive?"
"Quite."
Snape pushed his face into Sirius' hair, and to his amazement, Sirius heard him sniff at it.
"All you have to do is to lie still and keep your mouth shut," he said, sending shivers down Sirius' spine. "That shouldn't be too hard, even for you."
"And then what?"
"Evidently it is too hard." Snape sighed theatrically. "Simply do as I say and you will be fine."
Deciding to make the effort to hold his tongue this once, Sirius pushed his hands under the pillow and pressed it on his mouth. There was no escape, only dying, and he had just about had enough of that already.
Snape's head rested against Sirius' back, his steady breathing swept over his neck, his arm still wrapped around his stiff body - and that was when it began.
First came the twitch that made Sirius' heart miss a beat; then the hand on his waist began to slide down, in rhythm with his breathing, until it stopped over the tea towel. The heavier Snape's breathing became, the longer the brushes against Sirius' groin grew, and to his horror, he soon noticed that there was movement under the tea towel as well. He kept telling himself to calm down and ignore what was happening, but as so often before, his knob appeared reluctant to listen to anything he had to say. It was amazing how a part of him could be so excited while the rest of him was utterly terrified.
Sirius closed his eyes and prepared for the pain. It could hardly be worse than dying, and judging by the rather quiet social life Snape appeared to have, it would probably be over in a matter of seconds. If only the man would not notice Sirius' erection and interpret is as something other than just a physical reaction to pressure. Which it is was. Of course it was. Sirius' fingers dug deeper into the pillow.
Snape twitched again, suddenly enough to make Sirius jump and nearly fall out of the bed. And then the snoring began.
*****
On to the next chapter...
Author: Kleio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/SB
Summary: "I know you'll find it hard to believe" - Snape's hands travelled down Sirius' chest and stopped on his hips, pulling him closer - "but not all of us are fascinated by your posterior."
Notes: Again, I owe a mountain of gratitude to fluffyllama for the beta and to trobadora for all her help and advice - I love you both dearly!:)
Day Four
It had taken Sirius a bit longer than he had expected to get out of the bed, and when he finally put his weight on both of his legs, the night was already turning into morning. Judging by the total absence of pain, he knew he could have left long before that. Yet the night had passed listening to Snape's snoring, starting at every move he made, and counting the strikes of the downstairs clock. For some reason, the thought of the cellar had sounded less tempting with each passing hour, until it had seemed merely stupid to leave the warm and comfortable bed.
Snape was still fast asleep, curled up right on the edge of the bed. Looking at him, Sirius saw nothing but grizzle and bones, wrapped in sallow skin. For the death of him, he could not figure out why he had spent most of the night thinking about those long, white fingers in his hair and those thin lips, pressing hard against his own.
With a shudder, Sirius turned his back to the sleeping figure.
Even more baffling than his nocturnal insanity, however, had been the way Snape had acted: first denying the snog in the kitchen, and then kissing him again, so as to prove that he had no interest in him. Yet Sirius was certain the man had been playing with the idea of rape since day one, dangling it in front of him with the sole intention of showing him that should he want to do it, he could. It was all about power to him, and Sirius was well aware of that. Just how far Snape was prepared to take this charade, he could only fear.
Sirius had just reached the bedroom door when he heard the knocking echo through the empty house. It took him only an instant to realise where it was coming from, and with a bright smile on his face, he shouted from the top of his lungs.
"Here! I'm up here!"
That was all he could manage before the collar tightened around his neck, and Sirius fell to his knees in the doorway. From the corner of his eye, he saw Snape get out of bed and hurry to the window.
"That blasted owl was quicker than I expected." Pulling on his robes, Snape walked to the door and stepped over Sirius. "Get up, Black, this isn't the time to loiter around."
Grabbing the half-conscious Sirius by the arm, Snape started dragging him down the stairs. Gasping for air, Sirius did his best to break free and crawl to open the front door, but Snape's hold merely tightened along with that of the collar.
"Will you kindly stop fidgeting?" Snape snarled at him. "You don't honestly think I would let you open any more doors after yesterday's fiasco, do you?"
When they reached the foot of the steps, he twirled Sirius around and, not too unexpectedly, guided him away from the knocking. They came to a sudden halt in front of the solid wall under the stairs. One light tap on the panels, and a door opened where there had been none before.
"Get in. And try not to exhaust yourself by screaming - I can tell you that it's an utter waste of time and energy."
And with that, he shoved Sirius onto the floor of the hidden cupboard and slammed the door shut.
As soon as Snape was gone, the collar loosened, and Sirius could fill his lungs again, only to empty them in a frantic scream.
"Help! Here! I'm in here!"
Sirius paused, trying hard to listen to what was happening on the other side of the door.
"Headmaster, what brings you here at such an early hour?" he heard Snape ask.
The door creaked a little as it was closed, and two sets of footsteps sounded in the hall.
"I do apologise for the hour, Severus," said Dumbledore's voice. "But I'm afraid I was woken quite early this morning as well, and by one of your owls, no less."
"I'm here! Albus! In here!"
Sirius was shouting and banging his fists against the door of the cupboard, and yet the men standing not more than ten feet away appeared to hear nothing. It was beginning to dawn upon him what Snape had meant by wasting time and energy.
"But I haven't sent an owl."
"I know you haven't, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. "This one was carrying the most peculiar message - from Sirius Black."
Sirius heard Snape make a strange sort of noise, which resembled quite uncannily the snort of a Hippogriff, but which he interpreted as laughter.
"That is news, indeed, for I was under the impression that Black is in no position to send owls, least of all mine. Surely this is some poor creature's notion of humour."
"Yet I fail to find anything amusing in this," said Dumbledore, his footsteps sounding in the hall. "So, you understand why I needed to see you."
Sirius' eyes had adapted to the darkness and he could only just make out the outline of the door. Into that tiny crack around it he pushed his face and cried out once more in despair.
"I'm right here! Albus!"
But the two voices had already grown fainter, indicating that they had left the hall.
Disappointed, Sirius sat down on the floor of the cupboard and stared into the darkness. Dumbledore had received his letter, he had come to the house, and yet there was nothing Sirius could do to make his presence known to him.
"You bastard!" he yelled to the one responsible. "You complete and utter bastard!"
Why the hell did Snape even have such a room in the first place? It was hardly the habit of Death Eaters to lock their victims in silenced cupboards and wait for them to break. Wondering whether Snape used the space for some entirely different and even more perverted purpose, Sirius leant his head against the wall and traced the outline of the door with his finger.
In the tiny stream of light, coming in through the crack, Sirius noticed something carved in the doorframe. At first he thought they were just two short, curvy lines, nothing more than scratches, a cat's perhaps, but the closer he looked, the more of those lines he saw, running down the frame. He felt around the walls and found variations of those markings carved in them all around him. Some were a pair of parallel waves, some more like two bolts of lightning, and some... Some were simply two distinct letters 'SS'.
Continuing further away from the door, Sirius' fingers came across much larger engravings, whole pictures of what seemed to be the interests of a young child: broomsticks, Quidditch hoops, flames and some kinds of explosions - the last of which Sirius found slightly disturbing. Higher up on the wall there were also quite a few snakes, although most of them seemed to be missing their bodies and were merely heads with only a short part of the body carved below them. Then his hand stopped on what seemed to be two stickmen, drawn very close together, one considerably smaller than the other, and with a short, horizontal line running from the middle of the larger figure straight to the head of the smaller one.
With sudden disgust, Sirius jumped away from the wall.
Till then, he had merely thought that his mother must not have been the only one to have rather strict methods of raising children, but at least in the house of Black it had not entailed sexual abuse. It made him sick to think that Snape's father had done such monstrous things to his own son, a small defenceless child.
However, all of the warm sentiments he had just developed for Snape were soon wiped away as he heard the two men walk back into the hall.
"...And to punish the half-witted creature who is behind this macabre prank," said Snape's voice, growing louder as they drew nearer. "Only then will we be able put this unfortunate incident behind us. Still, I cannot fathom how this prankster got hold of my owl, but I assure you that I do not appreciate my name being associated with something as vulgar as this."
Grabbing the first thing that his hand happened to find, Sirius started banging on the door, screaming like a madman. He was perfectly aware that it was meaningless, and yet he had to do something, to know that he had at least tried.
"Albus!" he shouted from the top of his lungs. "I'm in here!"
"I don't believe we'll have any trouble finding the culprit in this matter, Severus."
"Really?"
Instantly, Sirius stopped the banging, holding his breath.
"Oh, I'm quite certain I already know who sent that letter," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "I came here only to ascertain that things were just as I thought and to settle my poor nerves. I trust you don't think too ill of the one behind all this? I'm sure he only did what he thought was..."
"Humorous?"
"Right," Dumbledore said, but the tone of his voice gave the impression that he was just finishing his sentence rather than agreeing with Snape.
The door creaked again and the warm breeze reached even the hidden cupboard.
"It is a dangerous thing to meddle with death," Dumbledore said in a deep voice, the one Sirius had only heard him use in the most serious matters. Then he added softer, "Even for the best of reasons."
"I agree," Snape replied rigidly. "That is precisely why I think this prank shows such poor taste."
Dumbledore sighed loud enough for even Sirius to hear.
"I do hope I'm right about this," he said. "But I trust you, Severus, and I'm certain you will be worthy of that trust."
"Thank you, Headmaster."
"Well, I must be off. There's so much to do these days, far too much for an old man like me." Dumbledore's voice moved further away, and Sirius could barely hear him any more. All he could make out was, "...the sooner this fuss is behind us, the better..." and "...remember what I've said, Severus."
"No!" Sirius screamed in panic. "Albus!"
But with a heavy thump, the door closed.
It did not take long for the other one to open, though.
"Get out," Snape snarled and pulled Sirius into the dazzling brightness of the hall. "So, I'm mad, am I?"
"I wrote it and I stand firmly behind every word of it." Sirius was clenching his teeth hard enough to hear them grind, putting every effort into forgetting any sympathy for that devil the engravings in the cupboard had aroused in him.
"You utter bastard!" Snape growled and shoved Sirius against the wall. He grabbed hold of Sirius' face, squeezing his jaw between his fingers as if intending to break it into pieces. "Did you honestly think that the great Dumbledore would believe a word of that ludicrous letter and come to your rescue?"
"Well, yes," Sirius muttered with difficulty, staring Snape straight in the eye. "As a matter of fact I did, and I wasn't too far off, either, was I?"
"Apart from the fact that he thought the letter was just some poor sod's attempt at humour, you mean."
"Fuck off, Snape," Sirius spat, trembling with anger. He knew it was a pathetic thing to say to one's captor, especially after the captive's only hope of escape had just been stamped out. "Just fuck off and die."
To his surprise, Snape obeyed and let go of him, but the gesture had more of the feel of throwing away something quite repugnant. Breathing heavily, he watched Snape walk away from him, and tried his best to imagine that the man had once been but a small, frightened child, locked in a cupboard under the stairs with nothing better to do than to carve his initials into the doorframe.
When reaching the first step of the staircase, Snape halted and turned his expressionless eyes to Sirius.
"I nearly forgot. As you are obviously fit enough to move again, there are a few things I want done today. I shall have the list for you after breakfast."
Watching him ascend the stairs, Sirius was certain the child within him must have died a slow and gruesome death.
*****
Cursing Messrs Muscle, Ajax and Persil to the lowest circles of hell, Sirius fished the two grey towels out of the tub and hurled them to the floor. He had emptied every bloody bottle of those Muggle potions that Snape had presented him with, and yet the towels were no nearer to being white than they had been an hour ago. If anything, Sirius was fairly sure the greyness had only deepened, as if the two towels were combining their strengths to create the most permanent stain known in the history of washing.
Where was Mrs Scower when one needed her? None of the Muggle cleansers could compare with her wonderful, although admittedly rather smelly, Magical Mess Remover. He was particularly disappointed at Mr Muscle who had, after all, promised to love the jobs he hated, and by Paracelsus, Sirius did hate washing.
The mountain of dishes he had already done away with and the stack of robes he had ironed - the smell of burning flesh constantly around him - had been nothing compared to the agonies those two innocent-looking towels had put him through. If he had not been dead to begin with, he was certain the vapours from the detergents, with which he had been filling his lungs for quite some time, would have been enough to send him behind the veil. And yet the towels refused to turn any whiter.
"Right," Sirius said to himself. "It's time to bring in the big boys. Persil, Ajax, Muscle - meet Super Chloride, the restorer of all things white."
Turning his head away, Sirius opened the bottle he had only sniffed before and instantly decided Snape had placed it there with the sole intension of knocking him unconscious. He poured the whole bottle into the tub and threw in the towels. The smell was nauseating, but Sirius kept stirring the towels round and round, making sure the Super Chloride was spread over them evenly. To his surprise and ultimate joy, the towels were beginning to look lighter and lighter, until finally he could quite clearly tell them apart from the grey water around them.
Smiling happily, Sirius reached down to pull the plug and opened the tab to rinse them out. Only now did he happen to glance down at his hands and screamed in shock.
There was hardly any skin left on either of them, only pink flesh and blisters from the wrists down. He had felt the burning on them when washing the towels but had simply pinned it down on the hot water and thought nothing more of it. But the water would have to have been boiling to cause that much damage, and there was no such luxury in Snape's house.
"You did this to me!" he shouted at the empty bottle of chloride. "What the fuck do they think they're doing, putting toxins in innocent looking packages! Those bloody Muggles! And that bastard Snape… Snape!" he yelled, storming out of the bathroom. "For fuck's sake, Snape! Where are you?"
Sirius got halfway down the corridor before Snape's dark figure appeared in the doorway of his study.
"What's all this shouting about?" he asked, clearly annoyed, but Sirius could not have cared less about what delicate potion brewing session he had interrupted. "And I would prefer it if you called me Master."
"I don't have time for your bloody domination fantasies! Look at my hands!" he shouted at him, shoving his hands an inch away from his face. "Look what those Muggle potions did to me!"
Snape said nothing and merely examined the burnt skin.
"It was that Super-bloody-whatsit! You put it there on purpose, didn't you, you sick bastard?"
"Of course I put it there on purpose," Snape said coldly, turning around and pulling Sirius by the arm to follow him. "However, I did make the wild assumption that you would only use it on the garments and not on yourself, but clearly I misjudged you. Quelle surprise."
As soon as they were inside the study, Snape halted and left Sirius standing by the door.
"Stay."
Snape strode across the room to the desk, which was laden with a number of bottles and jars, most likely containing rather suspicious if not highly illegal ingredients. There was the same smell in the room as before, clearly coming from the large cauldron which simmered quietly in the fireplace. Snape had evidently been in the middle of preparing more of that delicious potion Sirius had been forced to drink each morning, and he was not too happy to have been interrupted.
"You could've mentioned something about that stuff being toxic," Sirius grunted, looking down at his poor hands.
"It does say so on the bottle, had you cared to read it first," came Snape's voice from somewhere inside the huge cabinet he was rummaging about in.
"Oh, this is my fault now, is it?"
"Entirely," Snape said, returning with a smoking bowl in his hand. "Put them in here."
Sirius shoved his hands into the purple liquid and screamed.
"Bloody hell! It stings!"
"It's basic wound-cleaning potion; it's supposed to sting, you imbecile."
Biting his lip, Sirius stood quietly while Snape pulled his hands from the potion and applied the most foul-smelling balm imaginable over them. He worked slowly, almost tenderly, evidently trying to avoid touching the repulsive remains of Sirius' hands any more than was necessary.
Sirius was suddenly very aware of Snape's presence: the touch of his black robes as they swept against his skin, the sound of his heavy breathing as he concentrated on applying the balm. It reminded him of the previous night when Snape had rescued him from underneath the collapsed shack, and how he had treated his wounds with such care that, had it been anybody else, it would have almost had the air of compassion.
Thinking about the night before, Sirius caught himself raising his hand to his lips, but luckily the smell of the balm stopped him in time.
There was yet again a burning sensation, then a stomach-turning sizzling sound, and under Sirius' very eyes, his hands were healed in a matter of seconds.
"Are there any more of those?" Snape asked in a voice Sirius was not particularly keen on. "Perhaps, somewhere else on your body?"
"No, that was all," Sirius said quickly, turning to leave. "I didn't actually bathe in the stuff, if that's what you mean."
But Snape grabbed a tight hold of his arm, refusing to let him go just yet.
"You know, " he said slowly, as he swirled Sirius around and pressed himself against his back, "I've been thinking about last night. About what you said."
This was precisely the turn Sirius had not wanted the conversation to take.
"Before that," Snape whispered, his lips nearly touching Sirius' ear, "it had never even occurred to me to do the things you were so afraid I would do."
"Bollocks."
"I know you'll find it hard to believe" - Snape's hands travelled down Sirius' chest and stopped on his hips, pulling him closer - "but not all of us are fascinated by your posterior."
Sirius could feel his insides nearing boiling point. Dumbledore's visit had already robbed him of any hope of escape, in addition to which he had nearly lost his hands to some Muggle potions. All in all, it was pretty safe to say that the day had been tiring enough as it was without Snape making yet another speech about how repulsive he found him.
"Fine. Couldn't be happier. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I hear the towels calling me."
"However," Snape carried on, undeterred, "one cannot help but wonder what is the origin of these fears you appear to have." He pressed himself against Sirius hard enough for him to feel something rubbing against his arse. "Perhaps they are not fears at all," he drawled, as his hand travelled down Sirius' stomach, "but rather, hidden desires."
That was it. Sirius had already suffered days of abuse and humiliation from Snape, but enough was enough, and that was where he drew the line. He was not gay, and even if he were, there were broomsticks more attractive than Snape!
"Are you taking the piss?"
"By no means," Snape answered, pressing himself even closer to Sirius' back.
His fingers were already dangerously close to the tea towel and soon they would find their way underneath it. Swiftly Sirius grabbed hold of his hands and managed to slip free from his hold.
"Oh, I see!" he exclaimed with a broad smile as he turned to face him. "I simply imagined the little wank you had in the bathtub, just like I imagined the innuendo about the pawn eating the king! And of course you never snogged me, right? No, it's all just in my head!"
"Calm yourself, Black."
"No, no... " Sirius backed further away from his, shaking his head. "It's so obvious that I fancy you! How could have I missed it? Luckily I have you here to tell me what I want, even when I'm too thick to realise it! So, why don't we just get it over with? Right here, right now."
"Stop it," Snape said quietly, but Sirius had already hurried to the fireplace.
"Perhaps here, in front of the fire, on all fours?" he said, stopping by the steaming cauldron. "That would be nice, wouldn't it? You could even burn some nasty mark on my skin, brand me as your personal property. What fun!"
"Shut up, Black."
"Then there is, of course, the chair," he said, going round and round the big armchair with Snape after him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just sitting back while I suck your smelly cock. The pawn eating the king, eh?"
"Quiet!"
"Or maybe you'd prefer the table," he said, rushing to the desk before Snape could get hold of him. "You could tie my hands behind my back, in case you wanted to underline the fact that you're fucking me against my will, which isn't true, of course, but we can pretend that I still don't know anything about my 'hidden desires'."
"I said, quiet!" Snape shouted, finally catching up with him and squeezing his arm tightly.
"What?" Sirius spat in his face. "That is what you want, isn't it?"
"Shut up!"
"I'm not spoiling all the fun for you, am I?" Sirius barked with laughter. "Tell you what - I promise to put up a bit of a fight, beg for mercy and all that, just to get you in the mood. How's that sound? Ready to give me a good one?"
The smile was soon wiped off Sirius' face. Snape took hold of his head with both hands, and before Sirius could realise what was happening, he had shut his mouth with his own. It was the third time Snape had kissed him, yet it never ceased to shock him. Snape's lips stayed longer on his than the first time, but there was the same feeling of urgency and awkwardness, both of which had been absent the second time. Sirius felt paralysed, only barely able to stay upright and leaning heavily against the desk behind him. He knew he should do something to fight the man off, but all he could think about were the warm waves, emanating from his mouth and sweeping over his dead body.
Without much thought, Sirius' hands wandered onto Snape's waist, but instead of pushing him away, he found himself pulling the man even closer to him. Snape opened his eyes, clearly as surprised by his reaction as Sirius himself, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked, both waiting for the other one to make the next move. It took Sirius only a fraction of a second to make up his mind and press his lips against Snape's, sucking them almost violently. His whole body seemed to revolve around his mouth, leaving the rest of him in its shade, because at that very moment, there was nothing more important to him than kissing Snape's lips.
However, when Snape pulled back, Sirius' reason was quick to find him again, bringing his anger on its tail.
"Warming up, eh?" he said, glaring at Snape, who was wiping his mouth in haste. "Then I better get my arse in place for the main event." He turned to the desk, shaking his head. "Now, this just needs a bit of clearing up before..."
"No, Black, do not--"
With one sweep of hand, all the jars, bottles, parchments and books were wiped off the table. The sound of breaking glass filled the room and odd-coloured smoke began to rise from the floor, as all the different ingredients mixed together.
"You fool!" Snape cried out, kneeling down to save what there still was to be saved. "That was meant for your potion, you bloody nitwit!"
But Sirius could hardly hear him any more. The moment his hand had touched the desk, the collar had started choking him, and gasping for air, he had fallen facedown on the table. He pulled and struggled, trying to tear the collar off, but as before, his failure was inevitable.
When air surged through his lungs again, Sirius' initial reaction was to reach behind him but his hand met nothing but air. He pushed himself up and found Snape standing by the desk, looking down at the remains of his potion ingredients.
"Evanesco," he muttered and the colourful stain on the carpet vanished, along with the shards of glass. "That applies to you too, Black."
For the first time genuinely glad to obey Snape's order, Sirius stumbled out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him. He only managed to take a few steps down the corridor, though, before his knees gave in and he collapsed to the floor. His heart was beating far too fast and his breathing showed no signs of slowing down, but somehow Sirius was certain it had nothing to do with his little performance in the study. He knew he should have considered himself lucky to have escaped from Snape's clutches once more, yet the pounding in his chest seemed to indicate something quite different.
"I don't fancy him," he whispered to the empty corridor. "I don't even like him."
"Then you really shouldn't have kissed him, dear," answered a soft female voice.
*****
Darkness had already fallen over the moors when Sirius began climbing up the stairs. The collar had never before felt as much like a noose around his neck. He would have much rather headed down to the cellar, but an order was an order.
Dinner had been eaten in silence. Not even the roast - or rather, charred - beef had raised a comment from Snape, and Sirius had watched him patiently scrape off the thick, black crust until the striped meat had looked quite uncannily like a roasted zebra.
He had been in the middle of clearing the table when Snape had ordered him to spend the night in his room and made him break yet another plate to pieces. Naturally Sirius had tried to tell him that he did not even sleep and would only keep the man awake with his fidgeting, but Snape's half-smile had indicated quite clearly that the man saw this merely as a bonus.
Halfway up the stairs, Sirius stopped, certain that he had heard something nearby. The hall below seemed as empty as ever, and there was no reason to think Snape was anywhere but in his bed, waiting for him. Still Sirius had a definite feeling of being watched, and more importantly, laughed at.
"Going up there to finish what you started earlier, giant elf?" said the voice right by his ear, and nearly made Sirius fall down the stairs as he jumped away from the portrait.
"Bugger off, Gengulphus."
"Still haven't learnt how to address your betters, I see. And from what I hear, you've been rather a naughty house-elf in other respects as well, haven't you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, sending that owl, for one," Gengulphus said innocently, as if not wanting to brag with his knowledge. "Which one did you use, by the way?"
"Why is everybody so interested in which bloody owl I used?" Sirius exclaimed. "The dark brown one, all right? What's it to you?"
"Oh, nothing. Just being curious."
The quick grin did not escape Sirius and reminded him disturbingly much of Gengulphus' offspring.
"And then there was the incident of trashing your master's study," the portrait continued.
"Evidently you already know everything there is to know, so why not just leave me alone," Sirius grunted. "Bloody hell, there aren't even pictures in the study!"
"Yes, but luckily my Aunt Dahlia's portrait is outside in the hall, right opposite the door, and well... People do tend to forget to close the doors when they are in a hurry."
Till then, Sirius had been certain he had merely imagined the voice in the corridor, so he was relieved to find that his insanity had not yet reached the voice-hearing stage.
"So, she saw us," he said, stopping and turning towards the nuisance. "Why do you care?"
A rather wicked smile grew on Gengulphus' face as he sat down in a chair, whose owner he had evidently ejected to some other portrait.
"Well, according to Dahlia, you two had an argument, and something happened which she was too much of a prude to describe but which I can easily guess."
Gengulphus looked as happy as a man who had just done his wife in.
Lowering his voice, as if to tell Sirius a secret, he continued, "But what dear Dahlia didn't quite grasp - for she isn't exactly the sharpest quill in the shop - was why you kept offering your behind to Severus and he kept chasing you around the room. Poor creature thought it was some sort of a game."
Sirius thought for a moment, then said, "Maybe it was. If only I knew on whose side I'm playing."
"Well, there's scarcely any doubt about that after today." With a sneer, Gengulphus looked Sirius up and down. "What ever the attraction in you is, though, I shall never know."
"No, I trust you would not, you degenerate oaf," said a voice at the top of the stairs.
The look on Snape's face was left in the shadow of the candle he was holding, but the tone of his voice was clear enough. Gengulphus, on the other hand, did not seem to sense the danger.
"How dare you call me degenerate!" he bellowed, jumping up from his chair and striding right to the edge of the picture frame. "It is one thing for a house-elf to have such tendencies, but you!"
"Oi!" Sirius cut in but was drowned by the shouting portrait.
"I swear that it is not from my side of the family you've inherited those disgusting perversions of yours!" Gengulphus roared, his bald head shining bright red. "One might have hoped that you would at least get a shred of the pride we Snapes are noted for and keep your twisted preferences to yourself, but evidently that trait has completely passed you by! You are a disgrace! And with a house-elf, no less..."
Sirius felt rather grateful to see the yellow string shoot across the air and burn yet another hole in the canvas, putting an end to Gengulphus' babbling.
"One more word from you and we shall see whether your precious pride will put down flames, as well." The draught in the house seemed to have increased, for the candle in Snape's hand shook quite uncontrollably. "Black. Follow me."
*****
By far the worst were the minutes right after he had slipped under the covers, next to Snape's naked body. Lying rigid as a broomstick, Sirius stared at the canopy above him and waited for the first touch. When the order to turn his back to him came, he found himself almost relieved, thinking that it would all be over soon enough. Snape pressed his cold body against his back, his breathing burning by his ear, and his hand wandering across Sirius' chest for a good while before settling down on his waist.
It was not the hand, however, that worried Sirius, but the hardened cock, forcing its way between his buttocks.
"I thought you said that you had no interest in my arse," Sirius whispered.
"I meant what I said," Snape muttered, his mouth brushing against Sirius' shoulder. "How could I possibly be interested in something so..."
"Let me guess," Sirius cut in. "Repulsive?"
"Quite."
Snape pushed his face into Sirius' hair, and to his amazement, Sirius heard him sniff at it.
"All you have to do is to lie still and keep your mouth shut," he said, sending shivers down Sirius' spine. "That shouldn't be too hard, even for you."
"And then what?"
"Evidently it is too hard." Snape sighed theatrically. "Simply do as I say and you will be fine."
Deciding to make the effort to hold his tongue this once, Sirius pushed his hands under the pillow and pressed it on his mouth. There was no escape, only dying, and he had just about had enough of that already.
Snape's head rested against Sirius' back, his steady breathing swept over his neck, his arm still wrapped around his stiff body - and that was when it began.
First came the twitch that made Sirius' heart miss a beat; then the hand on his waist began to slide down, in rhythm with his breathing, until it stopped over the tea towel. The heavier Snape's breathing became, the longer the brushes against Sirius' groin grew, and to his horror, he soon noticed that there was movement under the tea towel as well. He kept telling himself to calm down and ignore what was happening, but as so often before, his knob appeared reluctant to listen to anything he had to say. It was amazing how a part of him could be so excited while the rest of him was utterly terrified.
Sirius closed his eyes and prepared for the pain. It could hardly be worse than dying, and judging by the rather quiet social life Snape appeared to have, it would probably be over in a matter of seconds. If only the man would not notice Sirius' erection and interpret is as something other than just a physical reaction to pressure. Which it is was. Of course it was. Sirius' fingers dug deeper into the pillow.
Snape twitched again, suddenly enough to make Sirius jump and nearly fall out of the bed. And then the snoring began.
*****
On to the next chapter...