FIC: Die a Little - Day Six, HP, SS/SB, NC-17
And here we go again, the second to last:)
Title: Die a Little - Day Six
Author: Kleio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/SB
Summary: "I know neither of us feels comfortable talking about it," Sirius found himself saying, "but I couldn't help but notice the lack of death in your bedroom yesterday."
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 Six
"I do believe that one starts with a 'D', not a 'B'."
"Who asked you?" Sirius snarled, but threw the book back to the floor just the same.
With a sigh, he fell down in a small clearing in the middle of the books and rubbed his eyes with his hands. The image of Snape lying tied to the bed, with Malfoy's sperm dripping out of him, was still vivid in his mind, but even worse was the memory of what Sirius himself had done to him after that. Thinking about it felt like he was watching a picture or a painting where some sick bastard was doing awful things to another, equally sick, bastard. It could not possibly have been him, forcing himself on Snape, fucking his white arse hard enough to make him scream...
Sirius lifted the largest book he saw, aimed it carefully, and dropped it straight on his foot. The pain took away any impure thoughts he had concerning last night, not to mention made him feel like a proper house-elf.
The only explanation for his actions was insanity, which was hardly farfetched after several days of being either humiliated to death or simply strangled. It was the channel his frustration had chosen that continued to baffle him, not to mention the disturbing fact that, in spite of his guilty conscience, the mere thought of Snape's arse still made him hard.
Sirius picked up the book again and calmly maimed his other foot with it.
Almost as big a mystery as what he had done was, of course, why Snape had not simply killed him off, and a night of pondering had shed no light on it whatsoever. Sirius had even played with the idea that perhaps Snape was sick enough to get a kick out of being shagged by somebody he absolutely despised. However, a more plausible explanation was that he had merely intended it as part of the mental torture he enjoyed putting Sirius through. If so, the plan had worked splendidly. Sirius felt like the lowest of the low; he was the man he had thought Snape to be.
"Come now," Gengulphus said amicably, "you have been here all night, rummaging through those blasted books. Do not giant house-elves need some rest, as well?"
"No, actually we don't, so keep your bloody mouth shut and let me get on with this!" Sirius growled, getting back to his feet and beginning to scan the titles for 'B's. He knew Gengulphus' only concern was the amount of sleep he had missed due to Sirius' intentionally noisy hunt for books and had no intention of letting him off that easily. If Sirius did not sleep, then why should that pest sleep either?
The portrait stayed silent for good five minutes. Yet it was a female voice that made Sirius raise his head from the books, speaking too softly for him to hear her words. Gengulphus' hurried reply, however, was audible enough.
"What a... lovely surprise!" he exclaimed in his most insincere voice. "I'm always delighted to see my favourite aunt!"
Sirius watched a large woman with a purple dress and silver hair take the seat Gengulphus was offering her. The resemblance between them was striking, apart from the apparently permanent frown on her face, as opposed to Gengulphus' frozen smile.
"In that case," she said, "you should have showed up at my sister Agatha's for that glass of port last night."
"I do apologise, dear aunt Dahlia, but you see I was rather busy at the time and..."
Judging by the look Dahlia cast him, one did not have to be the sharpest quill to figure out what Gengulphus had been doing.
"Had you been awake and where you were supposed to be," she continued, still glaring at him, "you would not have missed the spectacle Agatha and I were forced to witness. Even though you scarcely visit her," - the frown on her face deepened - "you might remember that she hangs not far from me in the upstairs corridor and from her picture one has a clear view of the master bedroom."
Dahlia glanced at Sirius, who was by now eavesdropping on them quite openly. Pulling Gengulphus close to her, she whispered something to him which she was evidently 'too much of a prude' to say out loud. Gengulphus, however, had no such difficulty.
"Severus had his way with the giant elf?!" he shrieked and received a fair amount of hushing from Dahlia. "Oh, the shame of it! If he must practice this, this... fornication, then let it at least be with one's own kind!"
"Hey, I'm as much human as you are!" Sirius yelled at him, realising too late what he had just said.
"To think that our flesh and blood succumbed to a measly house-elf..." Gengulphus carried on, entirely ignoring the compliment Sirius had inadvertently paid him. "Could he not at least been the actual fornicator instead of having himself tethered like an animal and then have his elf... Oh, I can't even say it!"
"Oh, I know," Dahlia said affectionately. "Poor Agatha had nightmares of it all through the night - of Severus having his unnatural way with goblins, and even a troll!"
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief in disgust.
"Oi!" Sirius cut in, stepping over the piles of books and stopping by the fireplace. "You two make it sound like he had his way with me and not the other way around."
"Naturally," Gengulphus replied, his eyebrows rising all the way up to his comb-over. "How else could it have happened?"
Dahlia leant over to him and whispered, "Doesn't he know what that rather unattractive accessory around his neck is for?"
Letting out a deep sigh, Gengulphus turned to Sirius.
"You cannot do anything your Master doesn't want you to do, giant elf," he said in a most patronising tone. "Should you attempt to do otherwise, that collar..."
"...Will kill me, I know!" Sirius shouted at him, grabbing the collar with both hands. "Bloody hell, I've been in this house for five days and have certainly had my share of dying by this fucking thing!"
"Oh, dear," Dahlia said, the handkerchief now covering most of her face. "Now you've upset him, Gengulphus. You know how I dislike this sort of thing... Perhaps it would be best if I stayed with Agatha till this is sorted out?"
"Of course. Give her my best," Gengulphus said without turning his eyes from Sirius, not to mention bothering to see her off.
Sirius was trying very hard to digest the possibility that Snape might have let him do what he did for the simple reason that he had wanted it too. At least the portraits seemed unanimous about it and treated Snape as the 'fornicator', when the one to blame should clearly have been Sirius.
"So, that pervert finally did it - or rather, had you do it for him." Gengulphus strode around his chair, shaking his head. "This is truly a sad day to be a Snape."
"Apparently the fact that he also shagged Malfoy had no impact on you," Sirius grunted. "A pure-blood lover is always welcome, eh? Be he a pervert or just a bloody bastard."
Gengulphus let out a giggle Sirius had grown to detest.
"Ha! That is not love, that is survival!" he chuckled. "How else do you think he would have managed to stay on friendly terms with someone like Lucius Malfoy?"
"Define 'friendly'," Sirius muttered, remembering the ropes that had tied Snape to the bed.
"There are things one must do to survive, my dear giant elf."
"I have a name."
"Of course you do, giant elf," Gengulphus said pleasantly. "Have you honestly not realised why he brought you back?"
"Let's see..." Sirius drawled, tapping on his temple. "To humiliate me, to torture me, to pay me back for everything he hates me for - to name but a few."
"You are rather dim, aren't you?" laughed the portrait. "If that's what he wanted, then why not bring back that Potter chap? That was his biggest enemy, and I can tell you it was a joyous day in this house when the news of his death arrived."
Sirius stared at him in disbelief. It was almost embarrassing that the thought had not even occurred to him. Naturally it made no sense to bring him there to be punished, when James had so obviously been the one Snape had hated the most. And if the spell worked on one deceased, it would surely work on another.
"I've always known house-elves to be rather dumb creatures, but I guess the stupidity grows with the rest of you," Gengulphus carried on, shaking his head. "One would think the owl would have been a clear enough hint."
"Here we go again with the owl... What's so fascinating about one bloody owl?"
"You still have not realised it? I mean, seriously..." Gengulphus shook his head so vigorously that his comb-over fell out of place, revealing the shining scalp and leaving his hair rather lop-sided. He took a deep breath, and when he continued, he spoke in a slow, clear voice, so as to make certain Sirius understood every syllable of it. "He has two owls, the grey one is called Faustus and the darker one is called..."
Gengulphus looked at Sirius expectantly, clearly hoping that his brain would do at least some of the work on its own. It did not take long for Sirius to remember Snape's question about the colour of the owl he had used, which had seemed like such an odd thing to ask at a time like that.
"Fuck me."
"No, not quite."
Sirius glared at the portrait, wishing he, too, had a wand with which to throw Stinging Hexes at it.
"It's Black, isn't it?"
"Precisely!" Gengulphus applauded him rather theatrically. "And he did not name that bird after its colour, for it is quite clearly..."
"Dark brown."
"I think we are finally getting somewhere!" the portrait exclaimed. "So, you see, you are not here simply because he hates you, even though I am quite certain there is some truth in that as well."
"For instance, the fact that he made me into a bloody slave!"
Gengulphus had now noticed the few long strands of hair brushing against his neck and quickly put them back into place to cover what was not there.
"You see," he said calmly, smoothing his comb-over, "when one is obsessed with someone, it matters not whether that obsession is due to love or hate. It is a shifting line between those two as it is."
Sirius let out a laugh that startled the portrait.
"You honestly expect me to believe that Snape has more than one type of feelings for me?" he said with contempt. "Have you actually met this fruit of your groin?"
"Kindly do not use such obscene language in my presence!" Gengulphus exclaimed, insulted.
Sirius thought for a moment, then said, "You do know what this means, don't you?"
"Of course I do, you silly git. It is Severus who is so utterly confused about the matters of the heart, not I."
"No, baldie," Sirius said, pronouncing the word with particular care. "It means that you do know my name after all."
*****
Gengulphus' words still floating in his head, Sirius searched the downstairs for Snape. But the only sign of him was the very familiar goblet of potion, which had been left for him on the dining room table and which Sirius emptied with disgust. Still grimacing, he climbed the stairs and walked straight into the bedroom, only to find it as empty as the rest of the house. At the door to the study he hesitated, knocked and waited before barging in, but again in vain.
He even opened the door to the rooms he knew to be out of use and searched the dusty floors for any signs of somebody having been in there. But all were as deserted as before, except for one. The door to it was locked, but the rotten wood only needed a few good kicks to give in. As soon as he stepped in, he was greeted with a deafening mixture of screeches, followed closely by a cloud of feathers, which drove him down on the floor and amidst the bird droppings.
Sirius had completely forgotten about the owls, whose previous home still lay scattered across the back yard. The windows were wide open for the owls to zoom in and out as they pleased, and judging by the amount of rat carcasses on the floor, they had been doing so for days. Snape had taken quite a risk by keeping them there, but obviously he had estimated Sirius' capacity for thought accurately enough.
Wiping the owl droppings off his face, Sirius took a better look at the two angry birds, which he had just woken up: Faustus, the man wanting a soul, and Black, the soul wanting a man. How bloody poetic life could sometimes be.
Till then Sirius had tried to be as carefully optimistic as possible, since naming an owl after somebody could have a number of reasons beside the one Gengulphus had implied. Perhaps Snape had intended to torture that poor bird in the absence of the real thing, and had the Exmortuis Spell not worked, Black might well have ended up in a pot with some garlic and rosemary. And yet owls were of high value in the Wizarding World and usually stayed with their owners for many years, hence taking one solely for the purpose of torture and dinner seemed a bit odd. But then again, this was Snape he was talking about.
Another annoyed shriek from the owls made Sirius turn around and leave them to their nap.
As he walked down the corridor to the bathroom to wash away the owl droppings, he came to the conclusion that Snape must have Disapparated without so much as a spot of breakfast. Apparently the man had gone out of his way to avoid seeing his molester and succeeded.
But when Sirius opened the door to the bathroom, the sight nearly made him jump.
"What the devil is the meaning of this?!" Snape snarled from the tub. "Have you not heard of knocking?"
Sirius was struck speechless, not having expected to find Snape in the bath at that time of the day, as he usually bathed in the evening.
"I was just..." he mumbled, not sure where to set his eyes. "I mean, I thought you were out."
"Well, I'm very much in, thank you." Snape picked up his wand from the edge of the tub and pointed it over his shoulder. "Lavatio."
All of a sudden there was something moving in the water, and as Sirius walked closer, he saw a sponge washing Snape's back on its own - yet another reminder of how easily his presence could have been replaced by a touch of magic.
"Isn't that supposed to be my job?"
"I've decided that I prefer to bathe alone, after all," Snape said rigidly.
"But you know, we giant house-elves have our reputation to uphold."
"Well, you and your reputation are a bit too late," Snape said, the strain now softer in his voice. "I've already washed everything except my hair."
"Then I am here to serve."
Swiftly Sirius snatched the sponge off his back and dropped it in the water, where it kept going round in circles until it slowly sank below the surface. Sirius reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount of it into his hand.
"Now, when it says 'for oily hair'..." he began, as he applied the shampoo.
"No, it does not mean 'to achieve oily hair'," Snape said wearily. "You are not the first one to come up with that."
It was a reminder Sirius could have easily done without. The thought of Malfoy touching even a hair on Snape's head, let alone many, made him sick to his stomach. Trying to get his mind off it, Sirius lathered the shampoo into thick foam, his fingers running nervously through the greasy hair.
"Is there some place you need to be?" Snape asked. "Or are you just hurrying to get this over with?"
Taking a deep breath, Sirius tried his best to calm down. When he continued, he massaged the head in slow, circular motions, starting from the neck, going upwards over the top and all the way to the temples before returning behind the ears again. He could feel Snape relaxing underneath his fingers, his arms slipping from the edges of the tub and disappearing under the already foamy water.
Neither appeared willing to talk about what had happened the night before, but Sirius soon discovered the uncomfortable silence to be even more disturbing.
"I found the potion in the dining room," he said casually. "Didn't see you take it there, though."
"I... I Apparated."
Evidently Sirius' guess about not wanting to see him had been spot-on.
"Not that I'm complaining, but was there less of it than before?"
"There was enough." Snape said shortly, and Sirius left it at that.
Again his fingers slid down to Snape's neck and began another round. The shampoo had a scent of mint and grapefruit, which made Sirius feel suddenly sharper and more alert.
"Quite an unusual name you've given to your owl," he said in passing and felt Snape flinch. "Does it perhaps have a more personal meaning to you?" It was impossible to miss Snape's poorly hidden gasp. "Faustus, I mean. Isn't that the bloke who sold his soul to the devil?"
"How do you know the name of my owl?" Snape hissed, evidently ready to burst from anger.
"Oh, Gengulphus and I had a little chat this morning. Your great-grandfather, is he?"
"Great-great-grandfather and rather delirious," Snape corrected, the tone of his voice growing even more tense. "What else did that blasted portrait tell you?"
"Oh, not much," Sirius said, giving his temples a thorough massage. "Only that you were sweet enough to name the other owl after me."
This time Snape did not even bother to try to hide his gasp.
"I named it Black simply because of its colour."
"Which is dark brown, you mean."
"No, black."
"Brown."
"Black!"
"Brown!"
"No, I mean you, you imbecile."
"Precisely!" Sirius exclaimed victoriously.
He continued to wash the hair, his hands working as if they had a will of their own and were not taking any silly orders from the rest of him. Evidently his mouth found their behaviour rather encouraging.
"I know neither of us feels comfortable talking about it," Sirius found himself saying, "but I couldn't help but notice the lack of death in your bedroom yesterday."
"Is that an extraordinarily roundabout way of asking why the collar didn't strangle you?"
"Yep."
Sirius was lathering the shampoo in ever quickening pace, splashing it all over Snape's face and on himself.
"Why, it must have been that I scarcely even realised what happened."
"Oh, come now, Snape," Sirius said impatiently. "I know I'm better endowed than that."
He knew full well that the hair was not going to get any cleaner than that, and yet Sirius' hands kept repeating the same motion faster and faster, as if attempting to drill through his skull.
"I just don't get you," he continued. "First you tell me that you find me unattractive - or 'repulsive', was it? - and yet you rock yourself to sleep with a bloody boner against my arse. Then you have me killed by this fucking collar just when I'm about to bite your shag's cock off, and you tell Malfoy that I drop dead quite at random, so that he won't get keen on me, but instead goes upstairs and fucks you senseless. And finally, I don't die when I..."
Sirius snapped his mouth shut and concentrated on splattering the foam over the walls and the floor as well while he waited and fretted for the silence to end.
"You were about to bite it off?" Snape asked at last, and Sirius could see something of a smile curving the corners of his mouth.
"I bloody well wasn't going to suck him off, was I? Such a shame I never got to it."
"Damn shame," Snape said, the smile now clearly visible.
"Wouldn't that have inconvenienced your shagging a bit if I had?" Sirius could not help asking.
The smile disappeared in a blink of an eye, and Snape dived under the water. After that, Sirius was certain that Gengulphus had at least been right about one thing, and decided never to mention Malfoy's name again.
When Snape appeared above the water, Sirius leant over him, reaching out his hand to touch his face rather clumsily and almost poking his eye out. The opportunity had presented itself rather unexpectedly, but then again, that was often the way with opportunities. Before Snape could say anything that might make him change his mind, Sirius pressed his lips firmly onto his. There was a sudden rush of blood, first to his head and then somewhere considerably lower, and before he knew it, he was in the tub with Snape.
"Black, don't..." Snape muttered, pulling away from him but not getting very far.
"You wanted revenge, right?" Sirius said breathlessly.
"Justice, actually, but..."
"Then have your justice," Sirius interrupted him again. "Fuck me."
Without waiting for an answer, Sirius kissed Snape's lips again and pressed his body against him under the water. He could feel Snape's hands finding their way to his arse, and the man was certainly kissing him eagerly enough, yet there was still something holding him back.
"Just do it," Sirius whispered to him. "Just fuck me and we're even."
"No, I can't..." he muttered again, shaking his head and pushing Sirius off again. "It's too late... I can't... No!"
Staring into the black eyes, Sirius felt the collar dig into the skin of his neck. Gasping for air, he fell against Snape in the water and forced his fingers under the band.
"You bastard..."
That was all he could hiss before the feeling of asphyxiation took him over, sending him under the water in panic, and before long, he felt life running inevitably out of his body.
There was nothing but cold, wet floor around him when Sirius came to, and a white towel, spread over him like a blanket.
*****
Sirius counted seven strikes of the clock, picked up the roasted chicken from the dining room table and carried it back into the kitchen. Two hours was more than enough to wait for somebody to show up for dinner, particularly when the cook had the patience of a dog.
The golden brown chicken flew across the kitchen, scattering grease on everything on its way, until it landed on the wall and crumbled to bits. The first time Sirius had been able to cook something without burning it, and the bastard was not even there to see it.
After the snog in the bathtub earlier that day, Sirius had actually been even more confused than before, which was something he would not have thought possible any more. It was enough to be hovering on the verge of madness even without the muddle of mixed messages Snape was sending him. Absolutely nothing in that house made sense. Gengulphus was clearly suggesting that Snape might have some deeper feelings for him, as evidenced by his odd choice of name for one brown owl. Yet Snape showed nothing but contempt and hatred towards him and clearly enjoyed watching him die immensely; enough so to kill him off right in the middle of snogging, in which he had only moments before been rather actively involved. And not more than a day had passed since Sirius had practically raped him and lived to feel guilty about it.
To top it all, Sirius still had not the foggiest idea what his own feelings for the man were. All he knew was that for days he had been afraid that Snape would take advantage of his position and force him into something nasty, but after seeing those drops of sperm on his arse, Lucius bloody Malfoy dripping out of him, all he had been able to think about was that it should have been him. And, of course, not long after it had indeed been him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop reliving what had happened in Snape's bedroom, and some of his thoughts were quite far from remorse.
Having no book to drop on his foot, he concentrated on the thought that perhaps those engravings in the cupboard under the stairs were not Snape's after all. It was not the first time Sirius had toyed with the idea that Snape was nothing but a paedophile, who had kidnapped his pupils and kept them in that cupboard while he sexually molested them. It was an unlikely scenario, but it gave Sirius an unconditional reason to hate him without any of the extenuating circumstances or mixed signals that tended to mess up his mind rather thoroughly. Particularly the image of Snape touching a certain brown-haired boy with spectacles seemed to do the trick.
A sudden movement outside the window caught Sirius' eye, and he walked closer to it to get a better view of the back yard. As far as he could see, everything looked as peaceful as ever, but the uneasy feeling he had refused to go away. He hurried to the back door and very carefully pushed it ajar.
The remains of the owlery lay on the ground about halfway between the house and the tree that had nearly cost Sirius his death a few nights ago. But the branch was still there, sticking through the roof of the shack, and on that branch sat Snape.
Sirius opened his mouth to shout at him for not bothering to come inside and eat the dinner he had been slaving over, but just as he was about to start with a sounding curse, he heard Snape mutter something to himself.
"Justice... All I wanted was justice..."
Why Snape had chosen to sit outside instead of coming in for his dinner was beyond Sirius. However, the answer was simple enough and firmly in Snape's hand. Sirius recognised the clink the moment it sounded in the air and watched Snape take a long sip from the bottle.
"All these years I've waited, and now..." Snape said, shaking his head slowly. "Why couldn't he have died long ago? Why couldn't those blasted Dementors do their jobs properly and suck out his soul?" The bottle made another journey to his lips and back again. "No, instead he just continued to be there, mocking me, annoying me, waiting to be killed by anybody but me. And now, when at long last I have him, he..."
Snape's voice drifted away as he buried his head in his hands. Had it been anybody else, Sirius would have sworn the man was crying.
"Why the devil did he do that?" Snape said, lifting his head up again for another sip from the bottle. "I should've stopped him, it would've been so simple, I should've... Damn fool!" Snape nearly shouted, obviously too drunk to care whether Sirius could hear him inside the house. "It's too late... There's no justice... I shall watch him die... Die!"
Seeing Snape push himself up from the branch and stagger towards the house, Sirius hurried to pull the door close and hide in the broom cupboard. He heard Snape come in, heard the glass breaking, and heard him stumble through the kitchen. Only when his heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs did Sirius come out of hiding. The empty bottle of whiskey lay shattered on the floor by the back door, right where Snape had kissed him for the first time.
For a while Sirius merely stared at the shards of glass and the dark yellow stain on the wall above them. It was enough. If he had for a moment allowed himself to believe that Snape had any humane feelings towards him, he had just been proven wrong. All Snape wanted was to see him dead, preferably by his hand. He simply refused to sit back and wait for Snape to kill him again and again just so that he could 'watch him die'. It would have to end, and there was only one way he could think of.
*****
On to the last chapter
Title: Die a Little - Day Six
Author: Kleio
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/SB
Summary: "I know neither of us feels comfortable talking about it," Sirius found himself saying, "but I couldn't help but notice the lack of death in your bedroom yesterday."
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 Six
"I do believe that one starts with a 'D', not a 'B'."
"Who asked you?" Sirius snarled, but threw the book back to the floor just the same.
With a sigh, he fell down in a small clearing in the middle of the books and rubbed his eyes with his hands. The image of Snape lying tied to the bed, with Malfoy's sperm dripping out of him, was still vivid in his mind, but even worse was the memory of what Sirius himself had done to him after that. Thinking about it felt like he was watching a picture or a painting where some sick bastard was doing awful things to another, equally sick, bastard. It could not possibly have been him, forcing himself on Snape, fucking his white arse hard enough to make him scream...
Sirius lifted the largest book he saw, aimed it carefully, and dropped it straight on his foot. The pain took away any impure thoughts he had concerning last night, not to mention made him feel like a proper house-elf.
The only explanation for his actions was insanity, which was hardly farfetched after several days of being either humiliated to death or simply strangled. It was the channel his frustration had chosen that continued to baffle him, not to mention the disturbing fact that, in spite of his guilty conscience, the mere thought of Snape's arse still made him hard.
Sirius picked up the book again and calmly maimed his other foot with it.
Almost as big a mystery as what he had done was, of course, why Snape had not simply killed him off, and a night of pondering had shed no light on it whatsoever. Sirius had even played with the idea that perhaps Snape was sick enough to get a kick out of being shagged by somebody he absolutely despised. However, a more plausible explanation was that he had merely intended it as part of the mental torture he enjoyed putting Sirius through. If so, the plan had worked splendidly. Sirius felt like the lowest of the low; he was the man he had thought Snape to be.
"Come now," Gengulphus said amicably, "you have been here all night, rummaging through those blasted books. Do not giant house-elves need some rest, as well?"
"No, actually we don't, so keep your bloody mouth shut and let me get on with this!" Sirius growled, getting back to his feet and beginning to scan the titles for 'B's. He knew Gengulphus' only concern was the amount of sleep he had missed due to Sirius' intentionally noisy hunt for books and had no intention of letting him off that easily. If Sirius did not sleep, then why should that pest sleep either?
The portrait stayed silent for good five minutes. Yet it was a female voice that made Sirius raise his head from the books, speaking too softly for him to hear her words. Gengulphus' hurried reply, however, was audible enough.
"What a... lovely surprise!" he exclaimed in his most insincere voice. "I'm always delighted to see my favourite aunt!"
Sirius watched a large woman with a purple dress and silver hair take the seat Gengulphus was offering her. The resemblance between them was striking, apart from the apparently permanent frown on her face, as opposed to Gengulphus' frozen smile.
"In that case," she said, "you should have showed up at my sister Agatha's for that glass of port last night."
"I do apologise, dear aunt Dahlia, but you see I was rather busy at the time and..."
Judging by the look Dahlia cast him, one did not have to be the sharpest quill to figure out what Gengulphus had been doing.
"Had you been awake and where you were supposed to be," she continued, still glaring at him, "you would not have missed the spectacle Agatha and I were forced to witness. Even though you scarcely visit her," - the frown on her face deepened - "you might remember that she hangs not far from me in the upstairs corridor and from her picture one has a clear view of the master bedroom."
Dahlia glanced at Sirius, who was by now eavesdropping on them quite openly. Pulling Gengulphus close to her, she whispered something to him which she was evidently 'too much of a prude' to say out loud. Gengulphus, however, had no such difficulty.
"Severus had his way with the giant elf?!" he shrieked and received a fair amount of hushing from Dahlia. "Oh, the shame of it! If he must practice this, this... fornication, then let it at least be with one's own kind!"
"Hey, I'm as much human as you are!" Sirius yelled at him, realising too late what he had just said.
"To think that our flesh and blood succumbed to a measly house-elf..." Gengulphus carried on, entirely ignoring the compliment Sirius had inadvertently paid him. "Could he not at least been the actual fornicator instead of having himself tethered like an animal and then have his elf... Oh, I can't even say it!"
"Oh, I know," Dahlia said affectionately. "Poor Agatha had nightmares of it all through the night - of Severus having his unnatural way with goblins, and even a troll!"
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief in disgust.
"Oi!" Sirius cut in, stepping over the piles of books and stopping by the fireplace. "You two make it sound like he had his way with me and not the other way around."
"Naturally," Gengulphus replied, his eyebrows rising all the way up to his comb-over. "How else could it have happened?"
Dahlia leant over to him and whispered, "Doesn't he know what that rather unattractive accessory around his neck is for?"
Letting out a deep sigh, Gengulphus turned to Sirius.
"You cannot do anything your Master doesn't want you to do, giant elf," he said in a most patronising tone. "Should you attempt to do otherwise, that collar..."
"...Will kill me, I know!" Sirius shouted at him, grabbing the collar with both hands. "Bloody hell, I've been in this house for five days and have certainly had my share of dying by this fucking thing!"
"Oh, dear," Dahlia said, the handkerchief now covering most of her face. "Now you've upset him, Gengulphus. You know how I dislike this sort of thing... Perhaps it would be best if I stayed with Agatha till this is sorted out?"
"Of course. Give her my best," Gengulphus said without turning his eyes from Sirius, not to mention bothering to see her off.
Sirius was trying very hard to digest the possibility that Snape might have let him do what he did for the simple reason that he had wanted it too. At least the portraits seemed unanimous about it and treated Snape as the 'fornicator', when the one to blame should clearly have been Sirius.
"So, that pervert finally did it - or rather, had you do it for him." Gengulphus strode around his chair, shaking his head. "This is truly a sad day to be a Snape."
"Apparently the fact that he also shagged Malfoy had no impact on you," Sirius grunted. "A pure-blood lover is always welcome, eh? Be he a pervert or just a bloody bastard."
Gengulphus let out a giggle Sirius had grown to detest.
"Ha! That is not love, that is survival!" he chuckled. "How else do you think he would have managed to stay on friendly terms with someone like Lucius Malfoy?"
"Define 'friendly'," Sirius muttered, remembering the ropes that had tied Snape to the bed.
"There are things one must do to survive, my dear giant elf."
"I have a name."
"Of course you do, giant elf," Gengulphus said pleasantly. "Have you honestly not realised why he brought you back?"
"Let's see..." Sirius drawled, tapping on his temple. "To humiliate me, to torture me, to pay me back for everything he hates me for - to name but a few."
"You are rather dim, aren't you?" laughed the portrait. "If that's what he wanted, then why not bring back that Potter chap? That was his biggest enemy, and I can tell you it was a joyous day in this house when the news of his death arrived."
Sirius stared at him in disbelief. It was almost embarrassing that the thought had not even occurred to him. Naturally it made no sense to bring him there to be punished, when James had so obviously been the one Snape had hated the most. And if the spell worked on one deceased, it would surely work on another.
"I've always known house-elves to be rather dumb creatures, but I guess the stupidity grows with the rest of you," Gengulphus carried on, shaking his head. "One would think the owl would have been a clear enough hint."
"Here we go again with the owl... What's so fascinating about one bloody owl?"
"You still have not realised it? I mean, seriously..." Gengulphus shook his head so vigorously that his comb-over fell out of place, revealing the shining scalp and leaving his hair rather lop-sided. He took a deep breath, and when he continued, he spoke in a slow, clear voice, so as to make certain Sirius understood every syllable of it. "He has two owls, the grey one is called Faustus and the darker one is called..."
Gengulphus looked at Sirius expectantly, clearly hoping that his brain would do at least some of the work on its own. It did not take long for Sirius to remember Snape's question about the colour of the owl he had used, which had seemed like such an odd thing to ask at a time like that.
"Fuck me."
"No, not quite."
Sirius glared at the portrait, wishing he, too, had a wand with which to throw Stinging Hexes at it.
"It's Black, isn't it?"
"Precisely!" Gengulphus applauded him rather theatrically. "And he did not name that bird after its colour, for it is quite clearly..."
"Dark brown."
"I think we are finally getting somewhere!" the portrait exclaimed. "So, you see, you are not here simply because he hates you, even though I am quite certain there is some truth in that as well."
"For instance, the fact that he made me into a bloody slave!"
Gengulphus had now noticed the few long strands of hair brushing against his neck and quickly put them back into place to cover what was not there.
"You see," he said calmly, smoothing his comb-over, "when one is obsessed with someone, it matters not whether that obsession is due to love or hate. It is a shifting line between those two as it is."
Sirius let out a laugh that startled the portrait.
"You honestly expect me to believe that Snape has more than one type of feelings for me?" he said with contempt. "Have you actually met this fruit of your groin?"
"Kindly do not use such obscene language in my presence!" Gengulphus exclaimed, insulted.
Sirius thought for a moment, then said, "You do know what this means, don't you?"
"Of course I do, you silly git. It is Severus who is so utterly confused about the matters of the heart, not I."
"No, baldie," Sirius said, pronouncing the word with particular care. "It means that you do know my name after all."
*****
Gengulphus' words still floating in his head, Sirius searched the downstairs for Snape. But the only sign of him was the very familiar goblet of potion, which had been left for him on the dining room table and which Sirius emptied with disgust. Still grimacing, he climbed the stairs and walked straight into the bedroom, only to find it as empty as the rest of the house. At the door to the study he hesitated, knocked and waited before barging in, but again in vain.
He even opened the door to the rooms he knew to be out of use and searched the dusty floors for any signs of somebody having been in there. But all were as deserted as before, except for one. The door to it was locked, but the rotten wood only needed a few good kicks to give in. As soon as he stepped in, he was greeted with a deafening mixture of screeches, followed closely by a cloud of feathers, which drove him down on the floor and amidst the bird droppings.
Sirius had completely forgotten about the owls, whose previous home still lay scattered across the back yard. The windows were wide open for the owls to zoom in and out as they pleased, and judging by the amount of rat carcasses on the floor, they had been doing so for days. Snape had taken quite a risk by keeping them there, but obviously he had estimated Sirius' capacity for thought accurately enough.
Wiping the owl droppings off his face, Sirius took a better look at the two angry birds, which he had just woken up: Faustus, the man wanting a soul, and Black, the soul wanting a man. How bloody poetic life could sometimes be.
Till then Sirius had tried to be as carefully optimistic as possible, since naming an owl after somebody could have a number of reasons beside the one Gengulphus had implied. Perhaps Snape had intended to torture that poor bird in the absence of the real thing, and had the Exmortuis Spell not worked, Black might well have ended up in a pot with some garlic and rosemary. And yet owls were of high value in the Wizarding World and usually stayed with their owners for many years, hence taking one solely for the purpose of torture and dinner seemed a bit odd. But then again, this was Snape he was talking about.
Another annoyed shriek from the owls made Sirius turn around and leave them to their nap.
As he walked down the corridor to the bathroom to wash away the owl droppings, he came to the conclusion that Snape must have Disapparated without so much as a spot of breakfast. Apparently the man had gone out of his way to avoid seeing his molester and succeeded.
But when Sirius opened the door to the bathroom, the sight nearly made him jump.
"What the devil is the meaning of this?!" Snape snarled from the tub. "Have you not heard of knocking?"
Sirius was struck speechless, not having expected to find Snape in the bath at that time of the day, as he usually bathed in the evening.
"I was just..." he mumbled, not sure where to set his eyes. "I mean, I thought you were out."
"Well, I'm very much in, thank you." Snape picked up his wand from the edge of the tub and pointed it over his shoulder. "Lavatio."
All of a sudden there was something moving in the water, and as Sirius walked closer, he saw a sponge washing Snape's back on its own - yet another reminder of how easily his presence could have been replaced by a touch of magic.
"Isn't that supposed to be my job?"
"I've decided that I prefer to bathe alone, after all," Snape said rigidly.
"But you know, we giant house-elves have our reputation to uphold."
"Well, you and your reputation are a bit too late," Snape said, the strain now softer in his voice. "I've already washed everything except my hair."
"Then I am here to serve."
Swiftly Sirius snatched the sponge off his back and dropped it in the water, where it kept going round in circles until it slowly sank below the surface. Sirius reached for the shampoo and poured a generous amount of it into his hand.
"Now, when it says 'for oily hair'..." he began, as he applied the shampoo.
"No, it does not mean 'to achieve oily hair'," Snape said wearily. "You are not the first one to come up with that."
It was a reminder Sirius could have easily done without. The thought of Malfoy touching even a hair on Snape's head, let alone many, made him sick to his stomach. Trying to get his mind off it, Sirius lathered the shampoo into thick foam, his fingers running nervously through the greasy hair.
"Is there some place you need to be?" Snape asked. "Or are you just hurrying to get this over with?"
Taking a deep breath, Sirius tried his best to calm down. When he continued, he massaged the head in slow, circular motions, starting from the neck, going upwards over the top and all the way to the temples before returning behind the ears again. He could feel Snape relaxing underneath his fingers, his arms slipping from the edges of the tub and disappearing under the already foamy water.
Neither appeared willing to talk about what had happened the night before, but Sirius soon discovered the uncomfortable silence to be even more disturbing.
"I found the potion in the dining room," he said casually. "Didn't see you take it there, though."
"I... I Apparated."
Evidently Sirius' guess about not wanting to see him had been spot-on.
"Not that I'm complaining, but was there less of it than before?"
"There was enough." Snape said shortly, and Sirius left it at that.
Again his fingers slid down to Snape's neck and began another round. The shampoo had a scent of mint and grapefruit, which made Sirius feel suddenly sharper and more alert.
"Quite an unusual name you've given to your owl," he said in passing and felt Snape flinch. "Does it perhaps have a more personal meaning to you?" It was impossible to miss Snape's poorly hidden gasp. "Faustus, I mean. Isn't that the bloke who sold his soul to the devil?"
"How do you know the name of my owl?" Snape hissed, evidently ready to burst from anger.
"Oh, Gengulphus and I had a little chat this morning. Your great-grandfather, is he?"
"Great-great-grandfather and rather delirious," Snape corrected, the tone of his voice growing even more tense. "What else did that blasted portrait tell you?"
"Oh, not much," Sirius said, giving his temples a thorough massage. "Only that you were sweet enough to name the other owl after me."
This time Snape did not even bother to try to hide his gasp.
"I named it Black simply because of its colour."
"Which is dark brown, you mean."
"No, black."
"Brown."
"Black!"
"Brown!"
"No, I mean you, you imbecile."
"Precisely!" Sirius exclaimed victoriously.
He continued to wash the hair, his hands working as if they had a will of their own and were not taking any silly orders from the rest of him. Evidently his mouth found their behaviour rather encouraging.
"I know neither of us feels comfortable talking about it," Sirius found himself saying, "but I couldn't help but notice the lack of death in your bedroom yesterday."
"Is that an extraordinarily roundabout way of asking why the collar didn't strangle you?"
"Yep."
Sirius was lathering the shampoo in ever quickening pace, splashing it all over Snape's face and on himself.
"Why, it must have been that I scarcely even realised what happened."
"Oh, come now, Snape," Sirius said impatiently. "I know I'm better endowed than that."
He knew full well that the hair was not going to get any cleaner than that, and yet Sirius' hands kept repeating the same motion faster and faster, as if attempting to drill through his skull.
"I just don't get you," he continued. "First you tell me that you find me unattractive - or 'repulsive', was it? - and yet you rock yourself to sleep with a bloody boner against my arse. Then you have me killed by this fucking collar just when I'm about to bite your shag's cock off, and you tell Malfoy that I drop dead quite at random, so that he won't get keen on me, but instead goes upstairs and fucks you senseless. And finally, I don't die when I..."
Sirius snapped his mouth shut and concentrated on splattering the foam over the walls and the floor as well while he waited and fretted for the silence to end.
"You were about to bite it off?" Snape asked at last, and Sirius could see something of a smile curving the corners of his mouth.
"I bloody well wasn't going to suck him off, was I? Such a shame I never got to it."
"Damn shame," Snape said, the smile now clearly visible.
"Wouldn't that have inconvenienced your shagging a bit if I had?" Sirius could not help asking.
The smile disappeared in a blink of an eye, and Snape dived under the water. After that, Sirius was certain that Gengulphus had at least been right about one thing, and decided never to mention Malfoy's name again.
When Snape appeared above the water, Sirius leant over him, reaching out his hand to touch his face rather clumsily and almost poking his eye out. The opportunity had presented itself rather unexpectedly, but then again, that was often the way with opportunities. Before Snape could say anything that might make him change his mind, Sirius pressed his lips firmly onto his. There was a sudden rush of blood, first to his head and then somewhere considerably lower, and before he knew it, he was in the tub with Snape.
"Black, don't..." Snape muttered, pulling away from him but not getting very far.
"You wanted revenge, right?" Sirius said breathlessly.
"Justice, actually, but..."
"Then have your justice," Sirius interrupted him again. "Fuck me."
Without waiting for an answer, Sirius kissed Snape's lips again and pressed his body against him under the water. He could feel Snape's hands finding their way to his arse, and the man was certainly kissing him eagerly enough, yet there was still something holding him back.
"Just do it," Sirius whispered to him. "Just fuck me and we're even."
"No, I can't..." he muttered again, shaking his head and pushing Sirius off again. "It's too late... I can't... No!"
Staring into the black eyes, Sirius felt the collar dig into the skin of his neck. Gasping for air, he fell against Snape in the water and forced his fingers under the band.
"You bastard..."
That was all he could hiss before the feeling of asphyxiation took him over, sending him under the water in panic, and before long, he felt life running inevitably out of his body.
There was nothing but cold, wet floor around him when Sirius came to, and a white towel, spread over him like a blanket.
*****
Sirius counted seven strikes of the clock, picked up the roasted chicken from the dining room table and carried it back into the kitchen. Two hours was more than enough to wait for somebody to show up for dinner, particularly when the cook had the patience of a dog.
The golden brown chicken flew across the kitchen, scattering grease on everything on its way, until it landed on the wall and crumbled to bits. The first time Sirius had been able to cook something without burning it, and the bastard was not even there to see it.
After the snog in the bathtub earlier that day, Sirius had actually been even more confused than before, which was something he would not have thought possible any more. It was enough to be hovering on the verge of madness even without the muddle of mixed messages Snape was sending him. Absolutely nothing in that house made sense. Gengulphus was clearly suggesting that Snape might have some deeper feelings for him, as evidenced by his odd choice of name for one brown owl. Yet Snape showed nothing but contempt and hatred towards him and clearly enjoyed watching him die immensely; enough so to kill him off right in the middle of snogging, in which he had only moments before been rather actively involved. And not more than a day had passed since Sirius had practically raped him and lived to feel guilty about it.
To top it all, Sirius still had not the foggiest idea what his own feelings for the man were. All he knew was that for days he had been afraid that Snape would take advantage of his position and force him into something nasty, but after seeing those drops of sperm on his arse, Lucius bloody Malfoy dripping out of him, all he had been able to think about was that it should have been him. And, of course, not long after it had indeed been him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not stop reliving what had happened in Snape's bedroom, and some of his thoughts were quite far from remorse.
Having no book to drop on his foot, he concentrated on the thought that perhaps those engravings in the cupboard under the stairs were not Snape's after all. It was not the first time Sirius had toyed with the idea that Snape was nothing but a paedophile, who had kidnapped his pupils and kept them in that cupboard while he sexually molested them. It was an unlikely scenario, but it gave Sirius an unconditional reason to hate him without any of the extenuating circumstances or mixed signals that tended to mess up his mind rather thoroughly. Particularly the image of Snape touching a certain brown-haired boy with spectacles seemed to do the trick.
A sudden movement outside the window caught Sirius' eye, and he walked closer to it to get a better view of the back yard. As far as he could see, everything looked as peaceful as ever, but the uneasy feeling he had refused to go away. He hurried to the back door and very carefully pushed it ajar.
The remains of the owlery lay on the ground about halfway between the house and the tree that had nearly cost Sirius his death a few nights ago. But the branch was still there, sticking through the roof of the shack, and on that branch sat Snape.
Sirius opened his mouth to shout at him for not bothering to come inside and eat the dinner he had been slaving over, but just as he was about to start with a sounding curse, he heard Snape mutter something to himself.
"Justice... All I wanted was justice..."
Why Snape had chosen to sit outside instead of coming in for his dinner was beyond Sirius. However, the answer was simple enough and firmly in Snape's hand. Sirius recognised the clink the moment it sounded in the air and watched Snape take a long sip from the bottle.
"All these years I've waited, and now..." Snape said, shaking his head slowly. "Why couldn't he have died long ago? Why couldn't those blasted Dementors do their jobs properly and suck out his soul?" The bottle made another journey to his lips and back again. "No, instead he just continued to be there, mocking me, annoying me, waiting to be killed by anybody but me. And now, when at long last I have him, he..."
Snape's voice drifted away as he buried his head in his hands. Had it been anybody else, Sirius would have sworn the man was crying.
"Why the devil did he do that?" Snape said, lifting his head up again for another sip from the bottle. "I should've stopped him, it would've been so simple, I should've... Damn fool!" Snape nearly shouted, obviously too drunk to care whether Sirius could hear him inside the house. "It's too late... There's no justice... I shall watch him die... Die!"
Seeing Snape push himself up from the branch and stagger towards the house, Sirius hurried to pull the door close and hide in the broom cupboard. He heard Snape come in, heard the glass breaking, and heard him stumble through the kitchen. Only when his heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs did Sirius come out of hiding. The empty bottle of whiskey lay shattered on the floor by the back door, right where Snape had kissed him for the first time.
For a while Sirius merely stared at the shards of glass and the dark yellow stain on the wall above them. It was enough. If he had for a moment allowed himself to believe that Snape had any humane feelings towards him, he had just been proven wrong. All Snape wanted was to see him dead, preferably by his hand. He simply refused to sit back and wait for Snape to kill him again and again just so that he could 'watch him die'. It would have to end, and there was only one way he could think of.
*****
On to the last chapter