In your face, Snack
It's never a good idea to post two fics in the same day nor to post them at this hour, but here it is.
Title: Discord
Pairings: Sirius/Snape, implied Sirius/Remus
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Dark/Angst
Summary: Sirius feels Remus slipping away from him. OotP-era.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
A/N: Written for Fandom Appreciation Month at Immeritus. Claim filled for loreliah who now owes me her SOUL (even though that's SO not what this was all about, but serious blood, sweat, and tears here, man). Thanks to blackmoonruby for her fast beta and fostering and to moonanddogstar for all of her prodding and tolerance of my bitching and moaning enthusiasm and encouragement. I don't think this would've ever been completed if it weren't for you two. Concrit and comments always welcome.
Cross-posted to sirius_centric and 12am_nosh
~
Twelve years in prison and escaping was the easiest part of the task. Finding and protecting Harry, not much harder. But Remus: that was the true test. He knew once he uncovered Peter, Remus would believe him; that wasn’t the problem. The love, though, that pulsed through his veins, he wasn’t sure if Remus would still feel it; he must’ve moved on, Sirius thought. How else could the past twelve years have been manageable?
They had a tentative reunion that summer, though neither was very certain of how the other really felt; words failed them miserably, especially when they mattered. I love you never uttered, simply out of fear. One word was plaintive when questions were asked. “I have to go south; I have to hide.” A pause. “I want you to come with me.” Another pause. “Will you?” Remus answered quickly, habitually. “No.”
Later, when it was necessary for him to return to protect Harry once again, more questions, with that same despondent word. “I’m coming back to Britain. I need to be there for Harry. Will you come and see me?” No pauses necessary this time, the answer already known. “No,” Remus responded.
A year of not knowing what turn life would take next whisked by and then the call from Dumbledore to reform the Order. Sirius willingly volunteered his home, figuring it perfect, stupidly not realizing that he’d be stuck in a house to which he’d never planned on returning. The message from Dumbledore to Remus: “Remain with him. Watch over him. Don’t lose each other when there is so little left.” Remus let Sirius read the letter when he begrudgingly moved in with him, a scowl upon his face.
Tenseness hung over them when they were alone together. They acted like they were strangers, not friends who had known each other now for nearly a quarter of a century. Definitely not like men who had once loved one another. Had it been love? Of course it had. Was it anymore? Sirius wasn’t sure.
Remus was sent on mission after mission and Sirius was stuck in his home, if that was what you could even call this place that closed in around him, suffocating him worse than Azkaban ever had. Life couldn’t have been more miserable or lackluster until another someone from his past started showing up regularly: Severus Snape.
Sirius didn’t trust him at all, but Dumbledore did and so he had to allow him to come. He knew that Snape was sent to check in on him, especially when Remus was away. The floo network had been hooked up from certain fireplaces in Hogwarts to the large, granite one in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. He would appear frequently well past midnight, most likely when the students were tucked away into their dormitories for the evening.
Snape would come seek Sirius out, if only to make his presence known, then keep to himself in the kitchen, whose doorway Sirius wouldn’t cross again until he’d gone. A night spent drinking too much firewhiskey and Sirius sauntered into the kitchen where he knew he’d find Snape.
The man looked up at him coldly. “Black.”
“Snivellus,” Sirius answered, stumbling towards the table. He threw his palms down on the scrubbed pine table, possibly to steady himself, but more to make a point. “Why do you come here, Snivellus?”
Snape ignored him and continued looking over the documents laid out in front of him.
Sirius removed one hand from the table and pointed it wobblingly at Snape. “I asked you a question, Snivellus.”
Glancing up with a piercing stare, Snape answered, “Because I am asked to.”
“You’re Dumbledore’s bitch, aren’t you, Snivelly? Doing whatever you’re told like a little lapdog.” Sirius laughed.
“You’d know all about being someone’s lapdog, wouldn’t you, Black? I see the way you look at Lupin when you think no one is watching you, begging for any amount of attention he’ll bestow on you. I also see the look that he gives to your back as you walk out of the room frustrated. Blank. Nothing. He feels nothing for you,” Snape said calmly.
Liquor hindering his movement, Sirius lunged forward clumsily, his hands making contact with the first thing they could: Snape’s chest, but his reflexes were faster and he grabbed Sirius’s wrists as soon as the fingers touched his robes. Snape held his wrists still, their faces less than a foot apart.
“You don’t know anything about it, Snivellus,” Sirius spat in the man’s face.
“Surely, you must know I’m correct; why else would you have reacted so vehemently?”
“Fuck you!” Sirius yelled, struggling against the hands that held him.
“Indeed.” Snape paused, a glint in his eyes. “You’d like to wouldn’t you, Black? You don’t want to hit me, you want to fuck me. You want to make your boyfriend jealous, hope that it will lead him back to you.”
“Let go of me.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re enjoying this.” Snape’s voice drawled. He forced Sirius’s hands down to their sides and pulled forward, his lips making contact with the others.
Sirius instinctively tried to jerk back, but Snape pushed harder towards him, their bodies flush up against one another now. He felt a tongue shove its way into his mouth and Sirius allowed it, slackened his body with the pleasure that rushed through, a heat rising in his groin. He hadn’t felt anything this intense with Remus since that first week after their reunion, well over two years ago.
Snape pulled back. “Yes, I thought so,” he mused before rejoining his lips with Sirius’s. He released the wrists he was still firmly holding in his grasp and wound his hands around Sirius’s back.
Sirius didn’t resist, he let his mouth be explored, wrapped his own arms around the man whom he had spent his life loathing. It wasn’t even desire that was enveloping him; it was need and desperation. Had Snape been right? He clearly was now; the thought of Remus clamoring back to him in a rage because he had found out that Sirius had been with someone else, with Snape of all people, was going straight to his prick. He moaned into Snape’s mouth.
Snape pushed Sirius backwards, slamming his legs into the table, his hands pulling up the dark gray robes, seeking out flesh to grope. All that was separating Snape’s fingers from Sirius’s cock was the thin fabric of his underwear. Snape shoved his hand inside and closed his palm around the shaft, pumping it up and down a few times then just as suddenly removing his hand. “Turn around, Black.”
Sirius grinned maniacally, a look of complete lust in his eyes, and spun around, placing his palms back on the table where they had been minutes before when he had entered the room. He felt cool air on his thighs and arse as his robes were lifted up once again, heard the rustling of Snape’s own robes opening, and the muttering of an all-too-familiar lubrication spell that Sirius had used countless times himself before entering Remus.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping, and then a smooth and wet tip graze the surface of his arsehole before penetrating, causing him to dangle his head forward in ecstasy. Snape thrust harder into him, Sirius’s body rocking in rhythm. Snape’s other hand clamped around his cock again and resumed its stroking and pumping from before.
The release came quickly and Sirius whispered, “Remus,” without even realizing it. As Snape pulled himself out, satiated, he said, “Need I remind you who is actually standing here?”
Sirius peeled his arms off the table. “No. Now leave.”
Snape adjusted his robes, grabbed the documents on the table, and threw the glittering powder into the fire that would transport him back to Hogwarts. Sirius stayed put until he was gone then walked back out to the sitting room he had been in earlier. He stepped to the table that held his mostly-drunk bottle of firewhiskey and grasped it by the neck before slugging the remainder of the amber liquid down his throat. He threw himself onto the couch and passed out within moments.
~
The next morning he was awoken by the sound of someone else in the room. His eyes slit open to see who was there. “Remus.”
Remus eyed the empty bottle lying on its side on the floor next to the couch. “Drink a bit last night?”
Sirius glared. “So what? You weren’t here.” He could make his voice sound so hateful even though his heart was crying out for love or affection, a touch of fingertips against his skin if nothing else.
Remus bent down and picked up the brown bottle, smirking at Sirius. “Budge over,” he said patting Sirius’s leg. Sirius grumbled and shifted over, his head throbbing. Remus sat on the edge of the couch and looked down at his hands, not saying anything.
Sirius watched a lock of silver-tinged hair fall into Remus’s eyes; his hair the same length it was when they were younger, before the world consumed them, just long enough. Remus twirled the neck of the bottle between his slender fingers. Sirius’s heart was exploding, watching Remus, afraid to touch, afraid to move.
The throbbing in his head was pulsating so hard; he had to do something to stop it. “Remus…”
He saw Remus’s jaw clench, his lips purse together, nostrils flare.
“Remus, I - what - would you please talk to me?” Sirius implored, sickened at showing his weakness.
“What can I say, Sirius?” Remus asked coldly.
“You can say anything! You can talk to me. You can tell me that you want things to be how they were.”
Remus snorted. “The way they were? Sirius, things can never be the way they were. Life just isn’t the same.”
“You’re right! You pretend I’m not here! You let me fuck you, as if it’s a fucking chore you’re doing. If you don’t want me then sodding tell me,” Sirius finished.
Remus looked up at him, his eyes welling up, but squinting. “I don’t want you.”
Sirius’s breath deflated. “Go fuck yourself,” he said, throwing himself off the couch and tottering out of the room, the throbbing in his head manifold.
~
He went into the kitchen to get a fresh bottle of firewhiskey. Snape was sitting at the table. “When the fuck did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago. I came looking for you and heard you and Lupin talking,” the man sneered.
Sirius opened the bottle and drank, hoping the addition of more alcohol would stop the pounding. “Fuck off,” he said, seeing Snape staring at him.
“Did you just get off with Lupin? Did you tell him what I did to you last night?” Snape said, not breaking his gaze. He stood up and walked towards Sirius. Snape took the bottle from his hand and set it on the cabinet behind him. He grabbed him on the arm and pulled Sirius to his mouth, shoving his tongue deep within. Snape withdrew with a gasp of air. “I see that desire in your eyes again. You want me to fuck you right here, right now and you want Lupin to walk in and see us.”
Sirius looked away. Of course Snape was right; Sirius’s cock had jumped as soon as he saw Snape in the kitchen.
“Bend over, Black,” Snape said already turning him around.
Sirius grasped the edge of the countertop, lost in his thoughts. He felt Snape’s cock enter him, a hand sweeping aside the hair covering his neck and wet lips and tongue licking and sucking. Sirius shut his eyes and thought of Remus, wished that it was the man who he had loved nearly his entire life and not Snape pounding into him.
The same as last night, Snape reached around and grabbed hold of Sirius’s prick, jerking his hand up and down the shaft. Sirius came, a jolt shooting through his body, Snape’s thrusting stopping moments after; all he could hear was panting, like a dog and then a small crash, coming from the door frame.
He hoped it was Remus. He hoped it was that forsaken Kreacher. Torn between not wanting Remus to see him like this, with another man, with Snivellus no less, and wanting to make him moan with jealousy, he froze. He waited until he was sure Snape was gone, flooed back to Hogwarts again.
Sirius made his way upstairs to the room in which Remus had been staying. He listened at the door, for a sign of life inside. He heard a choked, muffled sob, he was sure. His heart broke again for what felt like the two-thousandth time in the past two days. He was sorry for what he knew Remus had just seen and wished it had been Kreacher that he heard in the doorway moments earlier.
Sirius opened the door and walked in. Remus didn’t look up from his spot on the bed. “Remus…Moony…” he said as he walked toward him. He sat on the bed, his hand instinctively rubbing the hair on the back of Remus’s head, comforting him like he’d done dozens of times before, though not always being the cause of pain, and definitely not consoling him over tears.
~
They lay there all night on the bed, not doing anything but lying still, drifting in and out of sleep, stealing glances at one another through drowsy eyes.
Sirius’s senses numbed by the alcohol, he slept much later than Remus and woke to an empty bed. He went to the kitchen, hoping to find Remus having toast and tea but found Snape in the seat that he clearly thought of as his own now.
“He saw us, didn’t he?” Snape asked, a slight smirk on his lips. Sirius turned and walked back out of the room.
~
Remus didn’t return that night or the night after. He asked Molly the following afternoon if she knew where he was. “On guard duty,” was her simple answer.
~
He came back to 12 Grimmauld Place on the fifth night, looking over-tired and over-wrought, tumbling into Sirius’s arms, which were waiting for him on the couch in the sitting room. Sirius didn’t ask where Remus had been; he didn’t care. He only cared that he had come back to him.
When they were still lying there hours later, Sirius saw a black-robed figure pass in front of the door. It paused only for a moment, a glimmer in his eyes, though the look on his face was indiscernible.
Fin.
Title: Discord
Pairings: Sirius/Snape, implied Sirius/Remus
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Dark/Angst
Summary: Sirius feels Remus slipping away from him. OotP-era.
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.
A/N: Written for Fandom Appreciation Month at Immeritus. Claim filled for loreliah who now owes me her SOUL (even though that's SO not what this was all about, but serious blood, sweat, and tears here, man). Thanks to blackmoonruby for her fast beta and fostering and to moonanddogstar for all of her prodding and tolerance of my bitching and moaning enthusiasm and encouragement. I don't think this would've ever been completed if it weren't for you two. Concrit and comments always welcome.
Cross-posted to sirius_centric and 12am_nosh
~
Twelve years in prison and escaping was the easiest part of the task. Finding and protecting Harry, not much harder. But Remus: that was the true test. He knew once he uncovered Peter, Remus would believe him; that wasn’t the problem. The love, though, that pulsed through his veins, he wasn’t sure if Remus would still feel it; he must’ve moved on, Sirius thought. How else could the past twelve years have been manageable?
They had a tentative reunion that summer, though neither was very certain of how the other really felt; words failed them miserably, especially when they mattered. I love you never uttered, simply out of fear. One word was plaintive when questions were asked. “I have to go south; I have to hide.” A pause. “I want you to come with me.” Another pause. “Will you?” Remus answered quickly, habitually. “No.”
Later, when it was necessary for him to return to protect Harry once again, more questions, with that same despondent word. “I’m coming back to Britain. I need to be there for Harry. Will you come and see me?” No pauses necessary this time, the answer already known. “No,” Remus responded.
A year of not knowing what turn life would take next whisked by and then the call from Dumbledore to reform the Order. Sirius willingly volunteered his home, figuring it perfect, stupidly not realizing that he’d be stuck in a house to which he’d never planned on returning. The message from Dumbledore to Remus: “Remain with him. Watch over him. Don’t lose each other when there is so little left.” Remus let Sirius read the letter when he begrudgingly moved in with him, a scowl upon his face.
Tenseness hung over them when they were alone together. They acted like they were strangers, not friends who had known each other now for nearly a quarter of a century. Definitely not like men who had once loved one another. Had it been love? Of course it had. Was it anymore? Sirius wasn’t sure.
Remus was sent on mission after mission and Sirius was stuck in his home, if that was what you could even call this place that closed in around him, suffocating him worse than Azkaban ever had. Life couldn’t have been more miserable or lackluster until another someone from his past started showing up regularly: Severus Snape.
Sirius didn’t trust him at all, but Dumbledore did and so he had to allow him to come. He knew that Snape was sent to check in on him, especially when Remus was away. The floo network had been hooked up from certain fireplaces in Hogwarts to the large, granite one in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. He would appear frequently well past midnight, most likely when the students were tucked away into their dormitories for the evening.
Snape would come seek Sirius out, if only to make his presence known, then keep to himself in the kitchen, whose doorway Sirius wouldn’t cross again until he’d gone. A night spent drinking too much firewhiskey and Sirius sauntered into the kitchen where he knew he’d find Snape.
The man looked up at him coldly. “Black.”
“Snivellus,” Sirius answered, stumbling towards the table. He threw his palms down on the scrubbed pine table, possibly to steady himself, but more to make a point. “Why do you come here, Snivellus?”
Snape ignored him and continued looking over the documents laid out in front of him.
Sirius removed one hand from the table and pointed it wobblingly at Snape. “I asked you a question, Snivellus.”
Glancing up with a piercing stare, Snape answered, “Because I am asked to.”
“You’re Dumbledore’s bitch, aren’t you, Snivelly? Doing whatever you’re told like a little lapdog.” Sirius laughed.
“You’d know all about being someone’s lapdog, wouldn’t you, Black? I see the way you look at Lupin when you think no one is watching you, begging for any amount of attention he’ll bestow on you. I also see the look that he gives to your back as you walk out of the room frustrated. Blank. Nothing. He feels nothing for you,” Snape said calmly.
Liquor hindering his movement, Sirius lunged forward clumsily, his hands making contact with the first thing they could: Snape’s chest, but his reflexes were faster and he grabbed Sirius’s wrists as soon as the fingers touched his robes. Snape held his wrists still, their faces less than a foot apart.
“You don’t know anything about it, Snivellus,” Sirius spat in the man’s face.
“Surely, you must know I’m correct; why else would you have reacted so vehemently?”
“Fuck you!” Sirius yelled, struggling against the hands that held him.
“Indeed.” Snape paused, a glint in his eyes. “You’d like to wouldn’t you, Black? You don’t want to hit me, you want to fuck me. You want to make your boyfriend jealous, hope that it will lead him back to you.”
“Let go of me.”
“I don’t think so. I think you’re enjoying this.” Snape’s voice drawled. He forced Sirius’s hands down to their sides and pulled forward, his lips making contact with the others.
Sirius instinctively tried to jerk back, but Snape pushed harder towards him, their bodies flush up against one another now. He felt a tongue shove its way into his mouth and Sirius allowed it, slackened his body with the pleasure that rushed through, a heat rising in his groin. He hadn’t felt anything this intense with Remus since that first week after their reunion, well over two years ago.
Snape pulled back. “Yes, I thought so,” he mused before rejoining his lips with Sirius’s. He released the wrists he was still firmly holding in his grasp and wound his hands around Sirius’s back.
Sirius didn’t resist, he let his mouth be explored, wrapped his own arms around the man whom he had spent his life loathing. It wasn’t even desire that was enveloping him; it was need and desperation. Had Snape been right? He clearly was now; the thought of Remus clamoring back to him in a rage because he had found out that Sirius had been with someone else, with Snape of all people, was going straight to his prick. He moaned into Snape’s mouth.
Snape pushed Sirius backwards, slamming his legs into the table, his hands pulling up the dark gray robes, seeking out flesh to grope. All that was separating Snape’s fingers from Sirius’s cock was the thin fabric of his underwear. Snape shoved his hand inside and closed his palm around the shaft, pumping it up and down a few times then just as suddenly removing his hand. “Turn around, Black.”
Sirius grinned maniacally, a look of complete lust in his eyes, and spun around, placing his palms back on the table where they had been minutes before when he had entered the room. He felt cool air on his thighs and arse as his robes were lifted up once again, heard the rustling of Snape’s own robes opening, and the muttering of an all-too-familiar lubrication spell that Sirius had used countless times himself before entering Remus.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping, and then a smooth and wet tip graze the surface of his arsehole before penetrating, causing him to dangle his head forward in ecstasy. Snape thrust harder into him, Sirius’s body rocking in rhythm. Snape’s other hand clamped around his cock again and resumed its stroking and pumping from before.
The release came quickly and Sirius whispered, “Remus,” without even realizing it. As Snape pulled himself out, satiated, he said, “Need I remind you who is actually standing here?”
Sirius peeled his arms off the table. “No. Now leave.”
Snape adjusted his robes, grabbed the documents on the table, and threw the glittering powder into the fire that would transport him back to Hogwarts. Sirius stayed put until he was gone then walked back out to the sitting room he had been in earlier. He stepped to the table that held his mostly-drunk bottle of firewhiskey and grasped it by the neck before slugging the remainder of the amber liquid down his throat. He threw himself onto the couch and passed out within moments.
~
The next morning he was awoken by the sound of someone else in the room. His eyes slit open to see who was there. “Remus.”
Remus eyed the empty bottle lying on its side on the floor next to the couch. “Drink a bit last night?”
Sirius glared. “So what? You weren’t here.” He could make his voice sound so hateful even though his heart was crying out for love or affection, a touch of fingertips against his skin if nothing else.
Remus bent down and picked up the brown bottle, smirking at Sirius. “Budge over,” he said patting Sirius’s leg. Sirius grumbled and shifted over, his head throbbing. Remus sat on the edge of the couch and looked down at his hands, not saying anything.
Sirius watched a lock of silver-tinged hair fall into Remus’s eyes; his hair the same length it was when they were younger, before the world consumed them, just long enough. Remus twirled the neck of the bottle between his slender fingers. Sirius’s heart was exploding, watching Remus, afraid to touch, afraid to move.
The throbbing in his head was pulsating so hard; he had to do something to stop it. “Remus…”
He saw Remus’s jaw clench, his lips purse together, nostrils flare.
“Remus, I - what - would you please talk to me?” Sirius implored, sickened at showing his weakness.
“What can I say, Sirius?” Remus asked coldly.
“You can say anything! You can talk to me. You can tell me that you want things to be how they were.”
Remus snorted. “The way they were? Sirius, things can never be the way they were. Life just isn’t the same.”
“You’re right! You pretend I’m not here! You let me fuck you, as if it’s a fucking chore you’re doing. If you don’t want me then sodding tell me,” Sirius finished.
Remus looked up at him, his eyes welling up, but squinting. “I don’t want you.”
Sirius’s breath deflated. “Go fuck yourself,” he said, throwing himself off the couch and tottering out of the room, the throbbing in his head manifold.
~
He went into the kitchen to get a fresh bottle of firewhiskey. Snape was sitting at the table. “When the fuck did you get here?”
“A few minutes ago. I came looking for you and heard you and Lupin talking,” the man sneered.
Sirius opened the bottle and drank, hoping the addition of more alcohol would stop the pounding. “Fuck off,” he said, seeing Snape staring at him.
“Did you just get off with Lupin? Did you tell him what I did to you last night?” Snape said, not breaking his gaze. He stood up and walked towards Sirius. Snape took the bottle from his hand and set it on the cabinet behind him. He grabbed him on the arm and pulled Sirius to his mouth, shoving his tongue deep within. Snape withdrew with a gasp of air. “I see that desire in your eyes again. You want me to fuck you right here, right now and you want Lupin to walk in and see us.”
Sirius looked away. Of course Snape was right; Sirius’s cock had jumped as soon as he saw Snape in the kitchen.
“Bend over, Black,” Snape said already turning him around.
Sirius grasped the edge of the countertop, lost in his thoughts. He felt Snape’s cock enter him, a hand sweeping aside the hair covering his neck and wet lips and tongue licking and sucking. Sirius shut his eyes and thought of Remus, wished that it was the man who he had loved nearly his entire life and not Snape pounding into him.
The same as last night, Snape reached around and grabbed hold of Sirius’s prick, jerking his hand up and down the shaft. Sirius came, a jolt shooting through his body, Snape’s thrusting stopping moments after; all he could hear was panting, like a dog and then a small crash, coming from the door frame.
He hoped it was Remus. He hoped it was that forsaken Kreacher. Torn between not wanting Remus to see him like this, with another man, with Snivellus no less, and wanting to make him moan with jealousy, he froze. He waited until he was sure Snape was gone, flooed back to Hogwarts again.
Sirius made his way upstairs to the room in which Remus had been staying. He listened at the door, for a sign of life inside. He heard a choked, muffled sob, he was sure. His heart broke again for what felt like the two-thousandth time in the past two days. He was sorry for what he knew Remus had just seen and wished it had been Kreacher that he heard in the doorway moments earlier.
Sirius opened the door and walked in. Remus didn’t look up from his spot on the bed. “Remus…Moony…” he said as he walked toward him. He sat on the bed, his hand instinctively rubbing the hair on the back of Remus’s head, comforting him like he’d done dozens of times before, though not always being the cause of pain, and definitely not consoling him over tears.
~
They lay there all night on the bed, not doing anything but lying still, drifting in and out of sleep, stealing glances at one another through drowsy eyes.
Sirius’s senses numbed by the alcohol, he slept much later than Remus and woke to an empty bed. He went to the kitchen, hoping to find Remus having toast and tea but found Snape in the seat that he clearly thought of as his own now.
“He saw us, didn’t he?” Snape asked, a slight smirk on his lips. Sirius turned and walked back out of the room.
~
Remus didn’t return that night or the night after. He asked Molly the following afternoon if she knew where he was. “On guard duty,” was her simple answer.
~
He came back to 12 Grimmauld Place on the fifth night, looking over-tired and over-wrought, tumbling into Sirius’s arms, which were waiting for him on the couch in the sitting room. Sirius didn’t ask where Remus had been; he didn’t care. He only cared that he had come back to him.
When they were still lying there hours later, Sirius saw a black-robed figure pass in front of the door. It paused only for a moment, a glimmer in his eyes, though the look on his face was indiscernible.
Fin.