Part Three: An Inconvenient Affair
Title: An Inconvenient Affair
Author: carolinelamb
Pairing(s)/character(s): Sirius Black/Severus Snape, Highlight to read*Hermione/Pansy,*
Rating: NC-17
Prompt #: 14 (by sookie_marsters)
Word count: ~14.170
Summary: After a chance meeting at a muggle bar the two rivals manage to get drunk and fall into bed together. They agree on a "just sex" relationship but what happens when the walls start falling down and Sirius and Severus start actually liking each other?
Warnings: Highlight to read*Rimming, oral, Bottom!Snape, Bottom!Sirius, descriptions of alcohol intake and the resulting loss of inhibitions,*
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and their characters belong to JKR and her affiliates. I, the author, make no profit.
A/N: Thank you, dear Beta for your help! All remaining mistakes are mine! Thank you, dear Mods for hosting this fest and bring back Sirius Black to life (and love ;)!
3.
Severus wakes up long after the sun has risen and the first thought he has is: It's really over.
There won't be any more dirty texts from Black, no more midnights visits, no more fucking in the bath tub, no more lazy mornings in bed. There won't be no more arguing about French or Australian wine, no more chess games at three o'clock.
Black is such a good kisser. And he loves to kiss. Severus always thought that Black is a very oral person; he likes to smoke (a habit he was beginning to give up for Severus although he never outright stated so), he loves to eat, he loves to taste, to lick him, nuzzle at various body parts (even his toes!), loves to suck cock, loves to taste his come.
He wonders who Black is kissing now. Now with Severus not hexing anyone who comes near Black, he'll be swamped by admirers. He'd seen a few jealous looks in that bar, and some of the younger guys were practically salivating over Black.
Whatever they had, him and Black, it's really gone.
When he sits up, his eyes fall upon the empty vials on the nightstand. Sobering potion, a Sleeping Draught. Good, old Lucius, doggedly loyal behind his haughty facade.
Beside it, a photograph of him and Black is propped against the wall, the one where Black is kissing Severus.
Oh.
Severus can't resist and touches the photograph, and while Severus glowers like a dragon, and pulls Black possessively towards him, Black merrily throws a kiss at him.
Yes, that's me in a nutshell. Even jealous of myself.
Afterward they fucked in the bath tub, he remembers. Not the most convenient of places and they needed large batches of pain potions later to soothe the cranky muscles and joints but neither of them had cared. And it had been tender. Black had topped and other than Severus he was always careful about it, to the point where Severus had to order him to man up and put his back into it.
There is a note in Lucius' hand writing on the night stand.
Send an owl whenever you want to talk.
Lucius
Subtle, Lucius, as ever.
*****
"Happy Birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to youuuuuuu!"
Despite Ron and Harry attempting to out-sing each other, Hermione's smile remains perfectly in place.
"You, my dears," she calls out, "are wonderful!"
"Please stop!" someone-George-yells, and others clap and cheer.
"So you two teamed up and conspired against me?" she asks mischievously, stroking the enchanted scrolls, chockful with ancient magic, spells, enchantments and historical information about Atlantis.
"You can't have known about my Atlantis obsession!" she accuses Ron who shrugs and laughs. "I had help … from The Dark Side!" he intones.
Ron purses his lips and pretends to lock them with a key and throw it away.
"Well, since Snape's memorable melt down at the Malfoy dinner I have my assumptions," she says.
"Busted!" Ron grins. "We can't put anything past you!"
Someone puts on the Wireless and an accordion song fills the room.
Ron grabs her and swirls her around, and then Harry joins them and the three of them dance together.
"Like in old times," Harry whispers.
Hermione smiles against his chest.
Ron says nothing but he squeezes her shoulder.
"Happy Birthday to you, beloved Know-It-All," he says, when the song finishes and they break apart. When he moves away, she sees that his grin is a little lopsided.
"Hey!" she says.
Others dance as well as another, faster song starts. Neville and Hannah are doing crazy dance moves and a group of people is standing around them, cheering.
Luna sits and is talking to a sofa cushion, apparently trying to teach it a song.
Dean and Seamus are surrounded by scantily clad girls who giggle at everything they say.
Molly and Arthur are sitting with Kingsley around one of the few tables in the room and are laughing about something Hermione can't hear.
When Ron wants them to join the party, Molly only exclaims, "Don't worry, dear! You should have your fun and dance, and leave us old fossils alone!" Kingsley doesn't look too happy about to be included with the "old fossils".
"I should go," says a voice behind her.
"No, you must not," she says firmly without turning around. She leans back a little and breathes in the familiar scent of mandarins and bergamot, Pansy's favourite perfume. "I'll never forgive you, if you leave."
Pansy says nothing, but tries to subtly stroke her back. Hermione grabs her arm, then pulls it around her, so everyone can see. Molly still has a somewhat unhappy smile when she sees that, but bravely feigns cheerfulness in order to pacify Ron.
"They hate me," Pansy says sulkily.
"They hate that I didn't ride into the sunset with Ron and had his babies," Hermione says. "They don't hate you." She turns around and kisses Pansy.
"Thank you for the present," she whispers. "I think that's the best present of all. My lover and my ex-lover teaming up to get me a birthday present!"
"Shut up, Granger." Pansy kisses her back and smirks.
Suddenly Pansy stiffens against her and pulls away.
"Potter's scary undead Zombie godfather is here," she says, "and he looks as if he needs some brains."
"Pansy!" Hermione hisses, "not another word!"
She actually smells Sirius before she sees him-he stands only half a metre away. He is unkempt and his face looks as if a cat curled up and fell asleep there: His facial hair has left the "handsomely-rugged" state behind and is now far in the "crazed hermit" phase. She is fairly sure that the jeans he is wearing, have spent a few days on his body already.
"Sirius!" She decides against hugging. Harry and Ron greet him by raising their bottles and nodding, but they also stay in safe distance.
"Happy, happy birthday!" Sirius says, looking around, scanning the room, as if he's looking for something. Is he drunk? He seems to wobble a bit.
"Thank you!" She knows her smile is fake and hates herself for it.
"This is for you!" Sirius says, and presses a large, badly wrapped parcel into her hands. Obviously he had wrapped it by using Sticking charms but has missed so flaps of old newspaper are hanging off it. Again his eyes dart around. Maybe, she thinks, he is looking for the loo?
"Where is Severus?" Sirius asks suddenly, his red-rimmed, blood-shot eyes focussing on her.
Hermione can't help exchanging an astonished look with Pansy. "Severus?"
"I mean," Sirius corrects himself hastily, "where's Snape?"
"I … I didn't really invite him." Hermione says after a while.
Sirius' head rears back at that. "I thought you like him?"
"Er … no? Not … really?" Hermione feels as if she has literally fallen down the rabbit hole. "I respect him for what he's done-but we're not friends."
"Hm. I see," Sirius says with narrowed eyes. "I would have thought, you would be a bit more grateful."
Pansy nearly gasps at Sirius' words, and Hermione looks at Harry and Ron, blinking.
She guides them to the couch where they sit down. Luna interrupts her dialogue with the sofa cushion and looks at them.
"I mean, I did invite him," Hermione says, "but that was months ago and really, and then he never mentioned it again so it was more of a token-"
"That arrogant bastard. So you did invite him, but he didn't attend!" Sirius grits his teeth.
"Oh-oh! But … that's all right!" Hermione hurries to assure him, but Sirius won't have any of it.
"He still thinks he is above common courtesy. I knew it!"
Luna watches.
Hermione looks at Pansy, but the Slytherin only smirks at her holding a glass of champagne.
"Who does he think he is?" Sirius rants on. Further away, Harry and Ron have joined Pansy and are watching the spectacle. "Mr. 'I-am-too-good-to-socialise-with-Gryffindors."
He pulls out a flask and takes a swig.
"Honestly," Hermione says automatically. "Please don't be such a cliche!"
She takes the flask and throws it over her shoulder.
"It's only cheap stuff," Sirius slurs conspirationally, "Not a sip of the good stuff for greasy, ugly Snape. Only the cheap stuff for him."
"What the fuck is he on about?" Ron asks.
"I have no idea," Pansy admits, taking a dainty sip from her champagne. "I'm just watching the drama unfold."
"Open the present," Sirius says hoarsely and Hermione looks at the forgotten package on her lap, and carefully unwraps it. Bits and pieces of newspaper float away.
Pansy, Ron and Harry shuffle a little closer although everyone is keeping a healthy distance from the possibly deranged Sirius.
It's a wooden box made from some sort of black, matte wood. It's actually quite pretty, looks like charcoal. Most of the lid features an intricate Art Nouveau pattern, and mother-of-pearl inlays are adorning all surfaces.
"Sirius, this is … beautiful!" Hermione breathes. Strong, sturdy magic vibrates from the piece.
She reverently opens the lid.
At first she is confused by so much copper and glass, beaks, vials, glass stoppers in various colours, silver and wooden stirring rods, small bottles for ingredients in various metals, and above all every item enchanted.
"It's a … potion kit," she says slowly, tilting her head.
"It's one of the best," Sirius says, "Every piece is spelled and enchanted against breakage, corrosion and such. Once you complete the ritual in the handbook that comes with it, it's keyed to you and can't be stolen from you. There are twenty-seven different knives, steel, gold, copper, silver, even stone and ceramic, and with this kit you can prepare every potion that there is."
The last time Hermione brewed a potion was of course in 1998, the Polyjuice potion that turned her into Bellatrix Lestrange. Since then she has never had the time nor the interest to brew, and she actually can't think why on earth Sirius believes she might be interested.
When she looks beseechingly at Ron and Harry they only shrug.
"That's a very … er … thoughtful present," she says. "Forgive me, but this looks very … extravagant."
Sirius nods and gropes for his flask before he remembers that it's on the floor behind the sofa.
"At least you can appreciate these things," he murmurs, wiping his hands over his face. "Some people don't know what they have, what they're presented with and carelessly throw it away."
"He's been drinking for the last few days," Harry whispers into her ear, "I have no idea what's the matter with him."
Sirius shakes his head, then abruptly gets up. "I have to go," he suddenly announces.
"Maybe you should," Hermione says, the potion kit still on her lap, "go home, get some rest."
"You keep that," Sirius says. "Would be wasted on Snape anyway. To think I wanted to give him something so precious!" He sneers, but his sneer comes out as a pitiful grimace. Hermione places the potion kit very, very slowly beside her. Pansy mouths "Mad!"
Suddenly Sirius' face crumbles and he furiously wipes his cheeks.
"I should go with him," Harry says, and Hermione nods slowly.
"I wonder what is wrong with him."
They silently watch Sirius who seems to be crying, choking, laughing.
Luna says suddenly, "Can't you see his heart is breaking?"
*****
If someone has ever deserved sainthood then it must be Harry Potter.
The boy helps him out of his filthy clothes, spells the rest clean, and forces vial after vial of disgustingly efficient potions down his throat. After the third one Sirius is sober. What a sad waste of perfectly good Bowmore.
He looks around. His place is a pig sty. Pigs would refuse to set foot in here. There are pans of mouldy food sitting on the floor. He must have stepped on a jar of orange marmalade because the stuff is everywhere and sticks to the rug and the table legs.
Harry looks around, like a visitor in a museum.
"Impressive," he says. "I would have never thought that one person alone can do so much damage in a few days. Quite a feat."
One of his denims and a pair of red Converse are hanging on the candelabra.
"I need a drink," he says, then turns around to get to his cabinet.
Harry's wand is faster than he thought, and has shut and locked the cabinet doors with a clank.
"I really don't think so," he says. He even throws some sort of bubble charm on it that encases the cabinet. When Sirius experimentally touches it, it gives him a small electric shock.
"Bastard," he murmurs.
Harry grimaces, as he cleans up. The piles of clothes, sitting atop chairs and sofas, on tables go into one corner. Pots, glasses, bottles, tea cups, trays, leftover pizza go into another corner.
Sirius sits down again.
Finally Harry is finished and takes place on the armrest of a newly cleaned leather chair.
"So," he says cheerfully. "I think we need to talk."
Sirius petulantly shrugs his shoulders, well aware that while Harry is behaving like a responsible parent he is behaving like a sulking teenager.
"I'm sorry," he says finally. "I behaved like a drunk idiot. As you can see I'm not doing great at the moment."
"Why is that?" Harry asks. "And what does it have to do with Snape?"
Sirius has no idea if he's ready to talk about this. In the end it's also quite an embarrassing tale. He suspects that most kids nowadays have more mature relationships than he ever had.
"I had sex with Snape," he says.
"All right," Harry seems to think over it, "I sort of thought about that but then I thought this would be too absurd. I guess I was wrong."
Sirius really needs a drink.
"Did something go wrong? Was it horrible? Or was it good? Was it a one night stand?"
Sirius shakes his head. "It wasn't a one night stand."
"Oh."
"At first it was … you know … casual. We both didn't want to have commitments. Not to each other, not with our shared history."
"Makes sense," Harry agrees, "but then something happened along the way, I guess."
"Maybe … I wanted more," Sirius mumbles.
He can admit to himself that he fell in love, but he can't say it out loud. He just … can't. Not to Harry.
"Did he want more?" Harry asks.
Slowly Sirius shakes his head.
"I see," Harry says in this sober tone as if he's a doctor and Sirius his patient.
They both sit together, silently, mulling over the next words.
"Did you talk about this?" Harry asks again. "Did you tell him?"
Sirius shakes his head again, and laughs; alone the thought is hysterical. Imagine, Sirius Black, and Severus Snape of all people, sitting on a park bench, with Sirius confessing his sentiments on his knee. He can just see vividly how Severus would incinerate him within ten seconds. He laughs and can't stop, until a sharp sting on his cheek brings him back.
"Sorry," Harry murmurs.
"What was that for?" Sirius holds his burning cheek, looking wounded.
"I feared you might get a little hysterical here," Harry sits back again. "So you didn't tell him?"
Sirius shakes his head.
"This is like pulling teeth, Sirius," Harry says, leaning forward. "You've got to help me here!"
When Sirius stubbornly remains silent, Harry gets up.
"Just owl me … or floo me, if you do want to talk, all right?" he pats Sirius on the shoulder.
"All right," Sirius says gruffly.
At the door Harry turns around.
"About Severus Snape," he says.
Sirius looks up, barely able to conceal his impatience to have Harry gone.
"The memories he gave me about his life."
Harry had told him this already but at that time Sirius had been two or three weeks at St. Mungo's and still had no idea if he was back in the real world or not.
"He was very passionate about … everything. About his friends. His enemies, you know. If I'd have to sum up Snape in one word it would be, that he is passionate. There are no half-hearted affairs with him-either it's all consuming rage, or burning love or icy coldness. One thing Severus Snape is not: He's not, never ever casual about anything."
Sirius can't help but think, ‘Harry is right.’ It does ring true.
"Do you remember what you said, when I told you about his love for my mother?"
Sirius doesn't but Harry is on a roll anyway.
"You said, that's Snape. Always longing for the impossible, and beautiful, for the stars."
"I said … that?" Sirius wonders. "I never knew I'm such a poet."
Now that Harry has brought it up, the memory comes back. Severus had not only loved Harry's beautiful mother. Rumour said, he had been in love with Lucius Malfoy, too. (McKinnon had told him, who had claimed to have learned this from Regulus.) Now, the only thing Lucius Malfoy and Lily Evans shared was the first initial of their surname.
And physical perfection.
They both had been beautiful. Lily's beauty had been quiet and soft and warm, but nonetheless she had stood out. James had desired her, even before he had known her, wanting to have her like a trophy.
Lucius was rather the opposite: Aware of his looks, with perfectly manicured hands, sleek blond hair, charmed to reflect even more light, dressed in expensive clothes, wearing the finest boots.
The ugly working class child in Snape had desired that immaculate beauty.
And once, long time ago, Sirius Black had possessed the same quality.
He can't help but look into the mirror, hanging beside the cabinet.
Once his eyes hadn't been bloodshot, the grey of his irises not watery. His skin hadn't been wrinkled and scarred. His hair hadn't been filthy and unkempt.
He had been lean muscled and James (and Remus too, even though he never admitted it) had envied him for his chiselled torso. He once had had broad shoulders and tanned, bronzed skin.
He turns his head from right to left and back. Maybe he wouldn't look as perfect as he used to, but there is no need to look like an escaped lunatic.
Maybe Severus has changed, but he knows better. Behind the cold, disciplined man is still the poor little working class boy who wants something beautiful for himself.
*****
One and Two are new generation elves as they are termed, unofficially, by the ministry's employees. They are enrolled in a program and being paid, Hermione's project of course in which she invests 90% of her time.
Kreacher is more or less permanently with the Potters. (He knows he treated Kreacher unfairly in the past, but they have never liked each other, and he still can't stand him.)
One and Two are as efficient as their names suggest, and they have cleaned the rooms up within two days, cut his hair, purchased and picked up scented bottles of soap and shampoo.
Two even buys a small pot with a beige paste, which, smeared under his eyes, make him look instantly ten years younger. He also applies a very thin black line underneath his lash line and Sirius' eyes suddenly blaze.
“Perfect, sir,” Two assures him.
One suggests a complete de-hairing spell, adding that it only "hurts a little".
I spent twelve years in prison and fell through the Veil and was dead, I can do this too, Sirius grimly thinks.
It hurts like hell, but his very smooth, if slightly pinkish, bum is worth it.
Punctually for his first real outing since weeks his new outfits arrive and like a besotted girl Sirius spends fifteen minutes trying on clothes, with One and Two as his stylists.
"You look fabulous!" Two assures him. "That green t-shirt really brings out your eyes. And that jacket is so young Jack Nicholson."
"Jack-who?" Sirius is busy sniffing colognes. He ordered them at the perfumery Snape is ordering his from.
"This one!" One picks a bottle and dots cologne on the jugular, and, before Sirius can prevent it, onto his crotch.
"Hey! Do you mind?"
"Ah-ah-ah!" One smugly waves the glass bottle. "If seduction is your aim, you must be careful not to apply too much, and apply it where it melts with your pheromones."
"Your pheromones will lure your man, and the cologne merely acts as an agent." Two explains. "He'll think he likes the Tuscan lemon scent but he'll actually like your pheromones underneath."
“U-huh.” Sirius nods.
He feels uncomfortable with house elves who are more eloquent than him. (Phero-what? He'll have to secretly research.) He pretends successfully, he knows what they're speaking about.-After all he's got plenty of training with Snape, who likes to launch into monologues about complicated chemical or magical processes. To this day Snape believes Sirius has knowledge of Advanced Potions. Ha!
Finally at eight Sirius is ready. He has it all planned out, like a Slytherin.
He'll Apparate to the wine bar first and wait for Severus. If Severus isn't here by nine, he'll Apparate to his flat.
When he tells One and Two, their faces remain disappointingly blank.
"So is this all of your plan, sir?" One inquires carefully.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Oh … nothing!" Two assures, and hands him the jacket, even bending and give the boots a last brush. "You look very dashing, sir!"
Sirius feels suddenly hot and cold and shivery.
Nerves! He is nervous.
He's nauseous with … whatever it is. It can't have been the food, because he ate almost nothing.
Two pats him on the shoulder. "All the best, sir."
They leave him to Apparate and walk to the drawing room to discuss renovation plans (One's idea). When he decides against Apparating in the last moment because he's just too nervous, he slinks back past the room to take the Floo.
"Was he serious about this being a plan?" he hears One. "Or was it one of these ironic jokes?"
"I have no idea," Two responds.
"I don't know the other wizard, but I heard a lot of wizarding folk describe Sirius Black as very goodlooking."
"Well, human standards. He'll be all right."
"I think we should clean up the bed room. I have a hunch it'll be occupied by more than one person tonight."
"Good idea."
Somehow Sirius feels a bit better now.
The Floo spits him out in the alley beside the wine bar.
Severus once fucked him here, roughly against the wall.
Maybe he'll do it again tonight?
When he enters the bar, Severus isn't here.
Of course. Sirius wills away his disappointment.
"He'll arrive later," Sirius thinks. He takes up position at the bar, so that his still too-thin legs are hidden by tables and chairs but his shoulders visible. Severus always liked his shoulders. During sex he loved to stroke and caress them, pressing kisses on them.
A shiver runs through Sirius.
It's been so long.
Someone bumps into him.
"Oh-sorry!"
Sirius turns around and stares into a beautiful face with wide-set, blue eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Franco?"
"Wow. I didn't see it's you," Franco steps away from him, his hands raised. "No offense, mate, I was just-"
"Looking for the next John to fuck over?"
"Don't be like that!" Franco purrs. "You like to get fucked. Don't you?"
"Fuck off," Sirius says, "The next time I see you here I break your face."
"There is no law against drinking here, and if you so much as lay a hand on me, I'll get you kicked out. And watch your language. Your new fuck toy won't appreciate it."
Sirius narrows his eyes, but ignores Franco. He concentrates on the entrance, stealing looks at the clock on the wall.
"Oh … wow!" Franco breathes out and laughs so loud, that others turn around. "Oh. My. God."
He points at Sirius' face.
"Are you … wearing make-up?" He nearly doubles over with laughter. "Oh god, you look like a fright! You're really a little too old for the drag queen act."
He can't help it, but he turns red with embarrassment and anger. The worst of all is that Franco is probably right. He looks like a fool, behaves like a fool, and if there is something that Severus cannot abide, it's fools.
He can't even think of a comeback, he's so deflated.
"You sad, old-!" Franco says, but before he can say something else, he stiffens.
From out of nowhere, Severus stands behind him. Sirius can't imagine how he got here-so swift, like a fast moving shadow.
"Hello Franco," Severus breathes into the man's ear. "If that is even your real name, you useless slag."
Sirius can see the tip of a wand poking into Franco's ribs.
Franco evidently can feel it, for his face turns the colour of sour milk. Suddenly he isn't so handsome anymore.
"I think the wine got to your head. Don't you want to step out for some fresh air?"
Franco swallows and then nods. His eyes are wide with panic. Snape smiles very, very coldly, then he moves his mouth closer to Franco's ear and whispers something into his ear. Even though Sirius can't hear what he is whispering, he feels a shiver running down his spine.
He had never been indifferent to Snape's voice.
Then Snape steps back, and Franco immediately takes off, pushes hastily through the crowd and a second later they hear the door open and close again.
Sirius, suddenly aware that Snape is studying his face, turns away again. He felt invincible only a few minutes ago, but Franco's words have corroded all his confidence.
When he looks at Snape's again, the man's face is distorted with disgust.
"I see," Severus spats, "You're on the prowl again. Looking for entertainment?"
Sirius nearly flinches back at the hostility in his tone.
This isn't going at all the way he had planned it to go. He's wearing these tight jeans to emphasise his bum and show off his cock-but now he feels ridiculous.
Franco is right. He's too old.
And to add insult to injury, Snape … looks incredible. How could he have ever perceived him as ugly? His black eyes are large and so very intense in a pale face with high cheek bones. The black hair looks sleek and inky.
Snape usually wears turtlenecks, but today he is wearing a simple black cotton top with a relatively large cut, revealing his throat and part of his collarbones. Sirius can't help but dart a look at that hollow spot underneath the throat, the little spot he liked to nuzzle.
Snape looks fascinating and mysterious. And beautiful. It's so sad he can't tell Snape. He would love to tell him and wait for Snape's mischievous smirk and raised eye brow.
Now it's too late.
"Well, let me not keep you!" Snape turns around and leaves.
"Wait!" but Snape ignores him, even as he screams on top of his lungs. Several other guests turn around. Inga, turns her head to look at him, astonished, and Sirius doesn't care. He scrambles after Snape, desperately pushing through the crowd. Someone pulls him forward, opens the door-Inga!
"Go get him!" she says. "I can't stand him pining for you any longer!" The night chill hits him.
"What … what?" Sirius grabs her shoulders. "What are you saying?"
"Don't be thick!" Inga says impatiently. "I have no time to explain love to you-I've got work to do, but-go after him!"
Sirius takes off immediately-across the square he sees, Snape's lithe form, moving away, the coat billowing as his robes once did.
"Severus!" he screams and his voice echoes from the surrounding facades.
Snape turns around, fury etched into his features, sneering.
Sirius runs. He can't let him get away, not now.
Finally he reaches Snape who takes a distrustful step back.
"Are you mad?" Snape wants to know, "why aren't you owling the Daily Prophet my address directly?"
"I'm sorry … I just needed to talk to you!" Sirius says. Somehow, in the darkness of the street, which is only illuminated by the weak light of a streetlamp a bit further away, he feels a bit more brave. "I wanted to see you again. And … I want to sleep with you again."
Severus eyes are narrowed. "Correct me if I am wrong, but it seemed to me you ended it."
"When we met Pansy and Ron you just ran away!" Sirius exclaims, exasperated, "what was I to think?"
"That I was being discreet?"
"My impression was, you were embarrassed."
Snape does a minute movement of his shoulder, his attempt to shrug. "I might have panicked and not handled the encounter well," he admits.
They're silent for a while, but in the dark Sirius can see Snape's eyes darting around (which he always does when he is thinking) and chewing his lower lip.
"Did you mean what you said?" he asks finally.
"About the sex?"
Snape nods.
"I …" Sirius fights with himself, then decides to be honest. "I feel very good in your company. Very good. And I would like it to be more … but in the end, I'm fine with whatever you want. If you don't want … you know …" Sirius waves a hand between them, hoping Severus will understand, "… then we can continue just like before. I … don't care if you don't love me back. I just want to be with you."
At the word "love" Severus' head rears back, as if Sirius has slapped him.
"I thought, I can't stand it … to have sex with you without you feeling the same for me, but it's worse not to have you in my life. God, that is so much worse …"
He's said too much, hasn't he? Like always. He never thought he would say these kinds of things … to anyone. He never had anyone to say them to. He never thought he would but now the words are falling out of his mouth, flowing, and once he has begun, there is no stopping.
"If this arrangement is what you want between us, then let's have that," he says, discouraged by Snape's bland expression. "I'll be good. I promise."
He looks beseechingly at Snape.
"Please," he says, and it only comes out as a hoarse whisper. His chest feels so tight, as if something is strangling him from the inside.
Snape tilts his head and looks at him.
"Sirius," he says, "Sirius."
And then, he's embracing Sirius, and all the tightness in Sirius chest is gone. He presses himself against Snape, first still disbelieving, then so glad, so very glad, he buries his nose into his neck, can't even suppress that little canine whine.
"Let's go to my place," Snape says, and his eyes are greedy. His hand cups Sirius' cheek, and Sirius leans into it. Self-consciously he wipes his eyes.
"Stop," Snape says, swallowing, "I like … that. I like how-"
He breaks off, seemingly confused-or embarrassed-then: "You look good."
Then, as if to keep Sirius from seeing his embarrassment, he pulls Sirius closer, flush to his heated body and makes a movement and he inhales-
-and when he exhales they are standing in the living room of Snape's apartment. (It's not possible to Apparate into Snape's bedroom, paranoid as he is, he has warded it against Apparition.)
Sirius uses the moment to stumble towards the soft rug in front of Snape's fire place and pull Snape on top of him, who also doesn't lose any time and begins to undress them. Between undressing, Snape presses breathless kisses on every inch of skin he uncovers. They toe off boots, impatiently pull off socks, tear off shirts and jacket and trousers and pants until they're both naked.
"Severus," Sirius says. It feels so good to say this name aloud again.
Severus latches onto Sirius' nipple and begins to suck forcefully and he gasps. He's never been very sensitive but the way Severus does it-licking, sucking, biting lightly, pulling at it with teeth, then laving it with his tongue-makes him arch into his touch, makes his cock hard and twitch.
The more noise he makes, the more eager Severus gets, thrusting his cock between Sirius' legs. Sirius spreads his legs, then reaches down, grasps his buttocks, pulls them apart.
"Please," he rasps.
Severus suddenly stops moving, releases the nipple, and Sirius arches up some more.
"Don't stop, please!"
Severus instead lifts his upper body, then carefully slithers down, until he is settled in front of Sirius' hard cock.
"Oh …" he breathes.
Sirius lifts his head blearily then when he sees where Severus' gaze is directed, realises why he is mesmerised. Severus has never seen him completely hairless before.
"It's for you," he says instantly, slightly panicking that Severus might misread (as he frequently does) or misinterpret. "I thought you might like it."
Severus doesn't seem to hear him. He just continues staring. In the half darkness and with Severus' black eyes, it's impossible to see what the man thinks. It's one of Severus' irritating traits.
"Do you like it?"
Severus still doesn't answer, and as Sirius wants to snap his fingers in front of Severus' eyes, he opens his mouth, looking up at Sirius.
Severus slowly licks the smooth hairless skin around the cock.
He takes Sirius' balls into his mouth, carefully, as Sirius is very ticklish, then lifts them with one hand and licks the perineum and the dark cleft in such a greedy, adoring, hungry manner, that Sirius' question is definitely answered.
He even hears a low whine, and when Sirius moves, to adjust the position of his legs, he emits a growling sound and grabs Sirius' legs harder and pulls him closer, as if he's afraid that Sirius might pull away and take his treasure away from him.
The hot, wet tongue feels heavenly. It's not a favour Severus is doing him, although of course it is. It feels perfectly dirty and filthy, but Severus also feasts on his flesh like a starving man. He laps at his hole, nibbles the soft wrinkly skin, rubs his stubbled cheeks against the thighs, burrows his large nose under the balls and sniffles.
One might think Severus is the canine, not him.
Then Severus lays both of his-hot, heavy-hands onto Sirius cheeks and pulls them apart, and gives him a wicked smirk, and already incomprehensible with lust, he can only pull his knees even further up, pressing his thighs against his chest.
Just as Severus is unreadable, Sirius knows that he himself is like an open book. His face betrays every secret. He blushes easily, and the grey of his irises shows immediately when his pupils blow up with lust and desire, even his lips swell and darken when he wants to be kissed. It's a curse, but right now it's a blessing because he knows that Severus always mistrusts others, that in the back of his mind he always expects people to laugh at him, or to dislike him.
Sirius lays everything he feels into his eyes, and it's enough-Severus' features soften a little, the smirk becomes a grin which takes away at least ten years from his face.
Then he bends down again, stroking the wet, open rim of Sirius' hole with the tip of his tongue. Sirius pushes against him, and suddenly Severus' tongue stabs his hole, and Sirius cries out, every muscle tense.
Severus always liked to rim him, and actually taught Sirius to be less squeamish about it himself, but tonight Severus seems to go wild. Between fucking him with his tongue Severus curses softly, grinds himself against the bedsheets, grips his hips so hard, Sirius knows he'll have bruises tomorrow.
Only after a minute he knows he'll come if he doesn't put a stop on it. He can already feel his balls growing really taut, can feel his cock twitching.
With a determined move he pushes Severus away, then turns around and gets on his hands and knees. Severus looks almost endearing now … his dark gaze darting between the red, open hole and his own rampant cock, his lips parted, as if he can't make up his mind. Sirius hands him the lube and Severus obediently sets to his task.
Sirius takes one finger, but when Severus adds the second, he can feel him prodding that spot … and he shudders. Sparks are shooting through his body, up his spine, and he arches and whines.
"Hurry," he says.
Instead of hurrying, Severus, the sadist, pulls his fingers out slowly, then circles the rim, presses down on the soft wrinkled skin. While he pushes them back again (slowly, much too slowly) he bends forward and licks.
Sirius lets out a scream, undignified and desperate. He pushes back, clenches, and looks at Severus over his shoulder.
"Come on," he says, pushing back some more, and every time he moves, Severus gaze turns more unsteady and his eyes grow a little larger. He swallows, then finally, takes his cock into his hand and pours lube on it. For a moment Sirius, who moves to the side to see, is fascinated by the dark, heavy, glistening cock.
Severus strokes, squeezes at the end, then shuffles closer to Sirius and presses it to his hole. Alone the touch, that wet, slick insistent pressure makes Sirius tremble with even more need.
Severus clears his voice.
"I don't think I'll last long," he says.
Sirius' patience is at an end and he simply pushes back, in one vicious, swift move. Severus, behind him, lets out a cry, that is part surprise, anguish.
"You're killing me …"
Sirius only pulls back a little, savouring the feel of cock inside him. He's not entirely there yet, only halfway in, and at that point it's still a little more pain than pleasure, but it's good for now. It anchors him, gives him time to reign himself in, to make it last.
Severus on the other hand, the poor man … he has his hands on Sirius bum, kneading the flesh. His eyes are squeezed shut, he is forcing himself to breathe very slowly.
"Ready?" Sirius asks, and without waiting for an answer he pushes back more, until he feels Severus balls against his, feels Severus' stomach against his bum. He presses back, savouring each of Severus' groans, and something inside him notes smugly how Severus is at the end of his tether.
As Sirius pulls away again, Severus steadies himself and begins to thrust. He angles it perfectly as if he has memorised exactly how to angle it, to feel that devastating heat pour out into his groins, crawl up his spine and make him see white nothingness.
That's it.
They fall into a perfect rhythm together, although they're intently focussed on their own pleasure-they're both ultimately egoists, but something deep inside them is attuned to the other one, without their doing.
Each movement drags Sirius further towards Severus … away from himself.
He is dimly aware of Severus shouting, of himself clawing at the rug. He's filled with passion to the brim, the way he's never been filled, his heart is flowing over, the sea is pulling him under, and there is Severus-
Severus.
He gives, and while the waves are crashing around him, he feels Severus going into rictus, his fingers digging into his hips and that cock releasing.
“Sirius ...”
He can hear it, although it's only a soft moan, barely audible.
Then they tumble into a pile of bones, sweat covered skin, strands of hair clinging to their faces. Severus holds onto him, and Sirius reaches back and holds onto Severus.
He waits until their breathing evens out again.
"Let's go to bed," he suggests.
"Only if you conjure a wheel chair," Severus says, still wheezing a bit. They're really both not the youngest anymore. Not old of course-but not twenty either. "My knees died ten minutes ago."
"I can't move either. I think you broke my back," Sirius replies.
"Well, then we'll leave it to Lucius and Draco to find our cold bodies tomorrow," Severus says, "We'll probably be in rigor mortis by then. At least the cause of our deaths will be obvious to anyone who finds us."
"You had me at rigor," Sirius mumbles sleepily, but still manages to get onto his knees, and using the sofa to get up. "Come on, Sev."
"Call me that again, and-"
"Sevvy."
Severus snarls and gets up, but has to hold on to the sofa too.
"We could go to Yoga classes together," Sirius says.
Without thinking he clutches Severus' hand and pulls him towards him. "We'd learn to suck our own cocks and then I'd fuck you while you're doing a handstand."
"Promises, promises," Severus smirks.
His face looks youthful. For a brief moment Sirius likes to believe that they're boys again, and at the beginning of their lives, instead of two ageing men who have squandered most of their lives away, lived in some or the other way for others.
"What are you thinking?" Severus asks. His face is unreadable, but Sirius has learned to read the curve of his lips and even the seemingly cold eyes.
"I'm thinking, that now you're my lover," Sirius says.
Severus looks down and doesn't say anything for a long, long while. Sirius doesn't need to hear his answer. The way he is stroking Sirius' arm is answer enough. He looks at Severus black lashes, the blueish shadows under his eyes, the sharp bridge of the enormous long nose. How he could ever miss the fragile, harsh beauty of Severus' Snape is beyond him. He'll never be able to see anything else he knows.
"Let's go to bed," Severus finally says. He looks up and smiles.
The End
Author: carolinelamb
Pairing(s)/character(s): Sirius Black/Severus Snape, Highlight to read*Hermione/Pansy,*
Rating: NC-17
Prompt #: 14 (by sookie_marsters)
Word count: ~14.170
Summary: After a chance meeting at a muggle bar the two rivals manage to get drunk and fall into bed together. They agree on a "just sex" relationship but what happens when the walls start falling down and Sirius and Severus start actually liking each other?
Warnings: Highlight to read*Rimming, oral, Bottom!Snape, Bottom!Sirius, descriptions of alcohol intake and the resulting loss of inhibitions,*
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and their characters belong to JKR and her affiliates. I, the author, make no profit.
A/N: Thank you, dear Beta for your help! All remaining mistakes are mine! Thank you, dear Mods for hosting this fest and bring back Sirius Black to life (and love ;)!
3.
Severus wakes up long after the sun has risen and the first thought he has is: It's really over.
There won't be any more dirty texts from Black, no more midnights visits, no more fucking in the bath tub, no more lazy mornings in bed. There won't be no more arguing about French or Australian wine, no more chess games at three o'clock.
Black is such a good kisser. And he loves to kiss. Severus always thought that Black is a very oral person; he likes to smoke (a habit he was beginning to give up for Severus although he never outright stated so), he loves to eat, he loves to taste, to lick him, nuzzle at various body parts (even his toes!), loves to suck cock, loves to taste his come.
He wonders who Black is kissing now. Now with Severus not hexing anyone who comes near Black, he'll be swamped by admirers. He'd seen a few jealous looks in that bar, and some of the younger guys were practically salivating over Black.
Whatever they had, him and Black, it's really gone.
When he sits up, his eyes fall upon the empty vials on the nightstand. Sobering potion, a Sleeping Draught. Good, old Lucius, doggedly loyal behind his haughty facade.
Beside it, a photograph of him and Black is propped against the wall, the one where Black is kissing Severus.
Oh.
Severus can't resist and touches the photograph, and while Severus glowers like a dragon, and pulls Black possessively towards him, Black merrily throws a kiss at him.
Yes, that's me in a nutshell. Even jealous of myself.
Afterward they fucked in the bath tub, he remembers. Not the most convenient of places and they needed large batches of pain potions later to soothe the cranky muscles and joints but neither of them had cared. And it had been tender. Black had topped and other than Severus he was always careful about it, to the point where Severus had to order him to man up and put his back into it.
There is a note in Lucius' hand writing on the night stand.
Send an owl whenever you want to talk.
Lucius
Subtle, Lucius, as ever.
*****
"Happy Birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to youuuuuuu!"
Despite Ron and Harry attempting to out-sing each other, Hermione's smile remains perfectly in place.
"You, my dears," she calls out, "are wonderful!"
"Please stop!" someone-George-yells, and others clap and cheer.
"So you two teamed up and conspired against me?" she asks mischievously, stroking the enchanted scrolls, chockful with ancient magic, spells, enchantments and historical information about Atlantis.
"You can't have known about my Atlantis obsession!" she accuses Ron who shrugs and laughs. "I had help … from The Dark Side!" he intones.
Ron purses his lips and pretends to lock them with a key and throw it away.
"Well, since Snape's memorable melt down at the Malfoy dinner I have my assumptions," she says.
"Busted!" Ron grins. "We can't put anything past you!"
Someone puts on the Wireless and an accordion song fills the room.
Ron grabs her and swirls her around, and then Harry joins them and the three of them dance together.
"Like in old times," Harry whispers.
Hermione smiles against his chest.
Ron says nothing but he squeezes her shoulder.
"Happy Birthday to you, beloved Know-It-All," he says, when the song finishes and they break apart. When he moves away, she sees that his grin is a little lopsided.
"Hey!" she says.
Others dance as well as another, faster song starts. Neville and Hannah are doing crazy dance moves and a group of people is standing around them, cheering.
Luna sits and is talking to a sofa cushion, apparently trying to teach it a song.
Dean and Seamus are surrounded by scantily clad girls who giggle at everything they say.
Molly and Arthur are sitting with Kingsley around one of the few tables in the room and are laughing about something Hermione can't hear.
When Ron wants them to join the party, Molly only exclaims, "Don't worry, dear! You should have your fun and dance, and leave us old fossils alone!" Kingsley doesn't look too happy about to be included with the "old fossils".
"I should go," says a voice behind her.
"No, you must not," she says firmly without turning around. She leans back a little and breathes in the familiar scent of mandarins and bergamot, Pansy's favourite perfume. "I'll never forgive you, if you leave."
Pansy says nothing, but tries to subtly stroke her back. Hermione grabs her arm, then pulls it around her, so everyone can see. Molly still has a somewhat unhappy smile when she sees that, but bravely feigns cheerfulness in order to pacify Ron.
"They hate me," Pansy says sulkily.
"They hate that I didn't ride into the sunset with Ron and had his babies," Hermione says. "They don't hate you." She turns around and kisses Pansy.
"Thank you for the present," she whispers. "I think that's the best present of all. My lover and my ex-lover teaming up to get me a birthday present!"
"Shut up, Granger." Pansy kisses her back and smirks.
Suddenly Pansy stiffens against her and pulls away.
"Potter's scary undead Zombie godfather is here," she says, "and he looks as if he needs some brains."
"Pansy!" Hermione hisses, "not another word!"
She actually smells Sirius before she sees him-he stands only half a metre away. He is unkempt and his face looks as if a cat curled up and fell asleep there: His facial hair has left the "handsomely-rugged" state behind and is now far in the "crazed hermit" phase. She is fairly sure that the jeans he is wearing, have spent a few days on his body already.
"Sirius!" She decides against hugging. Harry and Ron greet him by raising their bottles and nodding, but they also stay in safe distance.
"Happy, happy birthday!" Sirius says, looking around, scanning the room, as if he's looking for something. Is he drunk? He seems to wobble a bit.
"Thank you!" She knows her smile is fake and hates herself for it.
"This is for you!" Sirius says, and presses a large, badly wrapped parcel into her hands. Obviously he had wrapped it by using Sticking charms but has missed so flaps of old newspaper are hanging off it. Again his eyes dart around. Maybe, she thinks, he is looking for the loo?
"Where is Severus?" Sirius asks suddenly, his red-rimmed, blood-shot eyes focussing on her.
Hermione can't help exchanging an astonished look with Pansy. "Severus?"
"I mean," Sirius corrects himself hastily, "where's Snape?"
"I … I didn't really invite him." Hermione says after a while.
Sirius' head rears back at that. "I thought you like him?"
"Er … no? Not … really?" Hermione feels as if she has literally fallen down the rabbit hole. "I respect him for what he's done-but we're not friends."
"Hm. I see," Sirius says with narrowed eyes. "I would have thought, you would be a bit more grateful."
Pansy nearly gasps at Sirius' words, and Hermione looks at Harry and Ron, blinking.
She guides them to the couch where they sit down. Luna interrupts her dialogue with the sofa cushion and looks at them.
"I mean, I did invite him," Hermione says, "but that was months ago and really, and then he never mentioned it again so it was more of a token-"
"That arrogant bastard. So you did invite him, but he didn't attend!" Sirius grits his teeth.
"Oh-oh! But … that's all right!" Hermione hurries to assure him, but Sirius won't have any of it.
"He still thinks he is above common courtesy. I knew it!"
Luna watches.
Hermione looks at Pansy, but the Slytherin only smirks at her holding a glass of champagne.
"Who does he think he is?" Sirius rants on. Further away, Harry and Ron have joined Pansy and are watching the spectacle. "Mr. 'I-am-too-good-to-socialise-with-Gryffindors."
He pulls out a flask and takes a swig.
"Honestly," Hermione says automatically. "Please don't be such a cliche!"
She takes the flask and throws it over her shoulder.
"It's only cheap stuff," Sirius slurs conspirationally, "Not a sip of the good stuff for greasy, ugly Snape. Only the cheap stuff for him."
"What the fuck is he on about?" Ron asks.
"I have no idea," Pansy admits, taking a dainty sip from her champagne. "I'm just watching the drama unfold."
"Open the present," Sirius says hoarsely and Hermione looks at the forgotten package on her lap, and carefully unwraps it. Bits and pieces of newspaper float away.
Pansy, Ron and Harry shuffle a little closer although everyone is keeping a healthy distance from the possibly deranged Sirius.
It's a wooden box made from some sort of black, matte wood. It's actually quite pretty, looks like charcoal. Most of the lid features an intricate Art Nouveau pattern, and mother-of-pearl inlays are adorning all surfaces.
"Sirius, this is … beautiful!" Hermione breathes. Strong, sturdy magic vibrates from the piece.
She reverently opens the lid.
At first she is confused by so much copper and glass, beaks, vials, glass stoppers in various colours, silver and wooden stirring rods, small bottles for ingredients in various metals, and above all every item enchanted.
"It's a … potion kit," she says slowly, tilting her head.
"It's one of the best," Sirius says, "Every piece is spelled and enchanted against breakage, corrosion and such. Once you complete the ritual in the handbook that comes with it, it's keyed to you and can't be stolen from you. There are twenty-seven different knives, steel, gold, copper, silver, even stone and ceramic, and with this kit you can prepare every potion that there is."
The last time Hermione brewed a potion was of course in 1998, the Polyjuice potion that turned her into Bellatrix Lestrange. Since then she has never had the time nor the interest to brew, and she actually can't think why on earth Sirius believes she might be interested.
When she looks beseechingly at Ron and Harry they only shrug.
"That's a very … er … thoughtful present," she says. "Forgive me, but this looks very … extravagant."
Sirius nods and gropes for his flask before he remembers that it's on the floor behind the sofa.
"At least you can appreciate these things," he murmurs, wiping his hands over his face. "Some people don't know what they have, what they're presented with and carelessly throw it away."
"He's been drinking for the last few days," Harry whispers into her ear, "I have no idea what's the matter with him."
Sirius shakes his head, then abruptly gets up. "I have to go," he suddenly announces.
"Maybe you should," Hermione says, the potion kit still on her lap, "go home, get some rest."
"You keep that," Sirius says. "Would be wasted on Snape anyway. To think I wanted to give him something so precious!" He sneers, but his sneer comes out as a pitiful grimace. Hermione places the potion kit very, very slowly beside her. Pansy mouths "Mad!"
Suddenly Sirius' face crumbles and he furiously wipes his cheeks.
"I should go with him," Harry says, and Hermione nods slowly.
"I wonder what is wrong with him."
They silently watch Sirius who seems to be crying, choking, laughing.
Luna says suddenly, "Can't you see his heart is breaking?"
*****
If someone has ever deserved sainthood then it must be Harry Potter.
The boy helps him out of his filthy clothes, spells the rest clean, and forces vial after vial of disgustingly efficient potions down his throat. After the third one Sirius is sober. What a sad waste of perfectly good Bowmore.
He looks around. His place is a pig sty. Pigs would refuse to set foot in here. There are pans of mouldy food sitting on the floor. He must have stepped on a jar of orange marmalade because the stuff is everywhere and sticks to the rug and the table legs.
Harry looks around, like a visitor in a museum.
"Impressive," he says. "I would have never thought that one person alone can do so much damage in a few days. Quite a feat."
One of his denims and a pair of red Converse are hanging on the candelabra.
"I need a drink," he says, then turns around to get to his cabinet.
Harry's wand is faster than he thought, and has shut and locked the cabinet doors with a clank.
"I really don't think so," he says. He even throws some sort of bubble charm on it that encases the cabinet. When Sirius experimentally touches it, it gives him a small electric shock.
"Bastard," he murmurs.
Harry grimaces, as he cleans up. The piles of clothes, sitting atop chairs and sofas, on tables go into one corner. Pots, glasses, bottles, tea cups, trays, leftover pizza go into another corner.
Sirius sits down again.
Finally Harry is finished and takes place on the armrest of a newly cleaned leather chair.
"So," he says cheerfully. "I think we need to talk."
Sirius petulantly shrugs his shoulders, well aware that while Harry is behaving like a responsible parent he is behaving like a sulking teenager.
"I'm sorry," he says finally. "I behaved like a drunk idiot. As you can see I'm not doing great at the moment."
"Why is that?" Harry asks. "And what does it have to do with Snape?"
Sirius has no idea if he's ready to talk about this. In the end it's also quite an embarrassing tale. He suspects that most kids nowadays have more mature relationships than he ever had.
"I had sex with Snape," he says.
"All right," Harry seems to think over it, "I sort of thought about that but then I thought this would be too absurd. I guess I was wrong."
Sirius really needs a drink.
"Did something go wrong? Was it horrible? Or was it good? Was it a one night stand?"
Sirius shakes his head. "It wasn't a one night stand."
"Oh."
"At first it was … you know … casual. We both didn't want to have commitments. Not to each other, not with our shared history."
"Makes sense," Harry agrees, "but then something happened along the way, I guess."
"Maybe … I wanted more," Sirius mumbles.
He can admit to himself that he fell in love, but he can't say it out loud. He just … can't. Not to Harry.
"Did he want more?" Harry asks.
Slowly Sirius shakes his head.
"I see," Harry says in this sober tone as if he's a doctor and Sirius his patient.
They both sit together, silently, mulling over the next words.
"Did you talk about this?" Harry asks again. "Did you tell him?"
Sirius shakes his head again, and laughs; alone the thought is hysterical. Imagine, Sirius Black, and Severus Snape of all people, sitting on a park bench, with Sirius confessing his sentiments on his knee. He can just see vividly how Severus would incinerate him within ten seconds. He laughs and can't stop, until a sharp sting on his cheek brings him back.
"Sorry," Harry murmurs.
"What was that for?" Sirius holds his burning cheek, looking wounded.
"I feared you might get a little hysterical here," Harry sits back again. "So you didn't tell him?"
Sirius shakes his head.
"This is like pulling teeth, Sirius," Harry says, leaning forward. "You've got to help me here!"
When Sirius stubbornly remains silent, Harry gets up.
"Just owl me … or floo me, if you do want to talk, all right?" he pats Sirius on the shoulder.
"All right," Sirius says gruffly.
At the door Harry turns around.
"About Severus Snape," he says.
Sirius looks up, barely able to conceal his impatience to have Harry gone.
"The memories he gave me about his life."
Harry had told him this already but at that time Sirius had been two or three weeks at St. Mungo's and still had no idea if he was back in the real world or not.
"He was very passionate about … everything. About his friends. His enemies, you know. If I'd have to sum up Snape in one word it would be, that he is passionate. There are no half-hearted affairs with him-either it's all consuming rage, or burning love or icy coldness. One thing Severus Snape is not: He's not, never ever casual about anything."
Sirius can't help but think, ‘Harry is right.’ It does ring true.
"Do you remember what you said, when I told you about his love for my mother?"
Sirius doesn't but Harry is on a roll anyway.
"You said, that's Snape. Always longing for the impossible, and beautiful, for the stars."
"I said … that?" Sirius wonders. "I never knew I'm such a poet."
Now that Harry has brought it up, the memory comes back. Severus had not only loved Harry's beautiful mother. Rumour said, he had been in love with Lucius Malfoy, too. (McKinnon had told him, who had claimed to have learned this from Regulus.) Now, the only thing Lucius Malfoy and Lily Evans shared was the first initial of their surname.
And physical perfection.
They both had been beautiful. Lily's beauty had been quiet and soft and warm, but nonetheless she had stood out. James had desired her, even before he had known her, wanting to have her like a trophy.
Lucius was rather the opposite: Aware of his looks, with perfectly manicured hands, sleek blond hair, charmed to reflect even more light, dressed in expensive clothes, wearing the finest boots.
The ugly working class child in Snape had desired that immaculate beauty.
And once, long time ago, Sirius Black had possessed the same quality.
He can't help but look into the mirror, hanging beside the cabinet.
Once his eyes hadn't been bloodshot, the grey of his irises not watery. His skin hadn't been wrinkled and scarred. His hair hadn't been filthy and unkempt.
He had been lean muscled and James (and Remus too, even though he never admitted it) had envied him for his chiselled torso. He once had had broad shoulders and tanned, bronzed skin.
He turns his head from right to left and back. Maybe he wouldn't look as perfect as he used to, but there is no need to look like an escaped lunatic.
Maybe Severus has changed, but he knows better. Behind the cold, disciplined man is still the poor little working class boy who wants something beautiful for himself.
*****
One and Two are new generation elves as they are termed, unofficially, by the ministry's employees. They are enrolled in a program and being paid, Hermione's project of course in which she invests 90% of her time.
Kreacher is more or less permanently with the Potters. (He knows he treated Kreacher unfairly in the past, but they have never liked each other, and he still can't stand him.)
One and Two are as efficient as their names suggest, and they have cleaned the rooms up within two days, cut his hair, purchased and picked up scented bottles of soap and shampoo.
Two even buys a small pot with a beige paste, which, smeared under his eyes, make him look instantly ten years younger. He also applies a very thin black line underneath his lash line and Sirius' eyes suddenly blaze.
“Perfect, sir,” Two assures him.
One suggests a complete de-hairing spell, adding that it only "hurts a little".
I spent twelve years in prison and fell through the Veil and was dead, I can do this too, Sirius grimly thinks.
It hurts like hell, but his very smooth, if slightly pinkish, bum is worth it.
Punctually for his first real outing since weeks his new outfits arrive and like a besotted girl Sirius spends fifteen minutes trying on clothes, with One and Two as his stylists.
"You look fabulous!" Two assures him. "That green t-shirt really brings out your eyes. And that jacket is so young Jack Nicholson."
"Jack-who?" Sirius is busy sniffing colognes. He ordered them at the perfumery Snape is ordering his from.
"This one!" One picks a bottle and dots cologne on the jugular, and, before Sirius can prevent it, onto his crotch.
"Hey! Do you mind?"
"Ah-ah-ah!" One smugly waves the glass bottle. "If seduction is your aim, you must be careful not to apply too much, and apply it where it melts with your pheromones."
"Your pheromones will lure your man, and the cologne merely acts as an agent." Two explains. "He'll think he likes the Tuscan lemon scent but he'll actually like your pheromones underneath."
“U-huh.” Sirius nods.
He feels uncomfortable with house elves who are more eloquent than him. (Phero-what? He'll have to secretly research.) He pretends successfully, he knows what they're speaking about.-After all he's got plenty of training with Snape, who likes to launch into monologues about complicated chemical or magical processes. To this day Snape believes Sirius has knowledge of Advanced Potions. Ha!
Finally at eight Sirius is ready. He has it all planned out, like a Slytherin.
He'll Apparate to the wine bar first and wait for Severus. If Severus isn't here by nine, he'll Apparate to his flat.
When he tells One and Two, their faces remain disappointingly blank.
"So is this all of your plan, sir?" One inquires carefully.
"What's wrong with it?"
"Oh … nothing!" Two assures, and hands him the jacket, even bending and give the boots a last brush. "You look very dashing, sir!"
Sirius feels suddenly hot and cold and shivery.
Nerves! He is nervous.
He's nauseous with … whatever it is. It can't have been the food, because he ate almost nothing.
Two pats him on the shoulder. "All the best, sir."
They leave him to Apparate and walk to the drawing room to discuss renovation plans (One's idea). When he decides against Apparating in the last moment because he's just too nervous, he slinks back past the room to take the Floo.
"Was he serious about this being a plan?" he hears One. "Or was it one of these ironic jokes?"
"I have no idea," Two responds.
"I don't know the other wizard, but I heard a lot of wizarding folk describe Sirius Black as very goodlooking."
"Well, human standards. He'll be all right."
"I think we should clean up the bed room. I have a hunch it'll be occupied by more than one person tonight."
"Good idea."
Somehow Sirius feels a bit better now.
The Floo spits him out in the alley beside the wine bar.
Severus once fucked him here, roughly against the wall.
Maybe he'll do it again tonight?
When he enters the bar, Severus isn't here.
Of course. Sirius wills away his disappointment.
"He'll arrive later," Sirius thinks. He takes up position at the bar, so that his still too-thin legs are hidden by tables and chairs but his shoulders visible. Severus always liked his shoulders. During sex he loved to stroke and caress them, pressing kisses on them.
A shiver runs through Sirius.
It's been so long.
Someone bumps into him.
"Oh-sorry!"
Sirius turns around and stares into a beautiful face with wide-set, blue eyes.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Franco?"
"Wow. I didn't see it's you," Franco steps away from him, his hands raised. "No offense, mate, I was just-"
"Looking for the next John to fuck over?"
"Don't be like that!" Franco purrs. "You like to get fucked. Don't you?"
"Fuck off," Sirius says, "The next time I see you here I break your face."
"There is no law against drinking here, and if you so much as lay a hand on me, I'll get you kicked out. And watch your language. Your new fuck toy won't appreciate it."
Sirius narrows his eyes, but ignores Franco. He concentrates on the entrance, stealing looks at the clock on the wall.
"Oh … wow!" Franco breathes out and laughs so loud, that others turn around. "Oh. My. God."
He points at Sirius' face.
"Are you … wearing make-up?" He nearly doubles over with laughter. "Oh god, you look like a fright! You're really a little too old for the drag queen act."
He can't help it, but he turns red with embarrassment and anger. The worst of all is that Franco is probably right. He looks like a fool, behaves like a fool, and if there is something that Severus cannot abide, it's fools.
He can't even think of a comeback, he's so deflated.
"You sad, old-!" Franco says, but before he can say something else, he stiffens.
From out of nowhere, Severus stands behind him. Sirius can't imagine how he got here-so swift, like a fast moving shadow.
"Hello Franco," Severus breathes into the man's ear. "If that is even your real name, you useless slag."
Sirius can see the tip of a wand poking into Franco's ribs.
Franco evidently can feel it, for his face turns the colour of sour milk. Suddenly he isn't so handsome anymore.
"I think the wine got to your head. Don't you want to step out for some fresh air?"
Franco swallows and then nods. His eyes are wide with panic. Snape smiles very, very coldly, then he moves his mouth closer to Franco's ear and whispers something into his ear. Even though Sirius can't hear what he is whispering, he feels a shiver running down his spine.
He had never been indifferent to Snape's voice.
Then Snape steps back, and Franco immediately takes off, pushes hastily through the crowd and a second later they hear the door open and close again.
Sirius, suddenly aware that Snape is studying his face, turns away again. He felt invincible only a few minutes ago, but Franco's words have corroded all his confidence.
When he looks at Snape's again, the man's face is distorted with disgust.
"I see," Severus spats, "You're on the prowl again. Looking for entertainment?"
Sirius nearly flinches back at the hostility in his tone.
This isn't going at all the way he had planned it to go. He's wearing these tight jeans to emphasise his bum and show off his cock-but now he feels ridiculous.
Franco is right. He's too old.
And to add insult to injury, Snape … looks incredible. How could he have ever perceived him as ugly? His black eyes are large and so very intense in a pale face with high cheek bones. The black hair looks sleek and inky.
Snape usually wears turtlenecks, but today he is wearing a simple black cotton top with a relatively large cut, revealing his throat and part of his collarbones. Sirius can't help but dart a look at that hollow spot underneath the throat, the little spot he liked to nuzzle.
Snape looks fascinating and mysterious. And beautiful. It's so sad he can't tell Snape. He would love to tell him and wait for Snape's mischievous smirk and raised eye brow.
Now it's too late.
"Well, let me not keep you!" Snape turns around and leaves.
"Wait!" but Snape ignores him, even as he screams on top of his lungs. Several other guests turn around. Inga, turns her head to look at him, astonished, and Sirius doesn't care. He scrambles after Snape, desperately pushing through the crowd. Someone pulls him forward, opens the door-Inga!
"Go get him!" she says. "I can't stand him pining for you any longer!" The night chill hits him.
"What … what?" Sirius grabs her shoulders. "What are you saying?"
"Don't be thick!" Inga says impatiently. "I have no time to explain love to you-I've got work to do, but-go after him!"
Sirius takes off immediately-across the square he sees, Snape's lithe form, moving away, the coat billowing as his robes once did.
"Severus!" he screams and his voice echoes from the surrounding facades.
Snape turns around, fury etched into his features, sneering.
Sirius runs. He can't let him get away, not now.
Finally he reaches Snape who takes a distrustful step back.
"Are you mad?" Snape wants to know, "why aren't you owling the Daily Prophet my address directly?"
"I'm sorry … I just needed to talk to you!" Sirius says. Somehow, in the darkness of the street, which is only illuminated by the weak light of a streetlamp a bit further away, he feels a bit more brave. "I wanted to see you again. And … I want to sleep with you again."
Severus eyes are narrowed. "Correct me if I am wrong, but it seemed to me you ended it."
"When we met Pansy and Ron you just ran away!" Sirius exclaims, exasperated, "what was I to think?"
"That I was being discreet?"
"My impression was, you were embarrassed."
Snape does a minute movement of his shoulder, his attempt to shrug. "I might have panicked and not handled the encounter well," he admits.
They're silent for a while, but in the dark Sirius can see Snape's eyes darting around (which he always does when he is thinking) and chewing his lower lip.
"Did you mean what you said?" he asks finally.
"About the sex?"
Snape nods.
"I …" Sirius fights with himself, then decides to be honest. "I feel very good in your company. Very good. And I would like it to be more … but in the end, I'm fine with whatever you want. If you don't want … you know …" Sirius waves a hand between them, hoping Severus will understand, "… then we can continue just like before. I … don't care if you don't love me back. I just want to be with you."
At the word "love" Severus' head rears back, as if Sirius has slapped him.
"I thought, I can't stand it … to have sex with you without you feeling the same for me, but it's worse not to have you in my life. God, that is so much worse …"
He's said too much, hasn't he? Like always. He never thought he would say these kinds of things … to anyone. He never had anyone to say them to. He never thought he would but now the words are falling out of his mouth, flowing, and once he has begun, there is no stopping.
"If this arrangement is what you want between us, then let's have that," he says, discouraged by Snape's bland expression. "I'll be good. I promise."
He looks beseechingly at Snape.
"Please," he says, and it only comes out as a hoarse whisper. His chest feels so tight, as if something is strangling him from the inside.
Snape tilts his head and looks at him.
"Sirius," he says, "Sirius."
And then, he's embracing Sirius, and all the tightness in Sirius chest is gone. He presses himself against Snape, first still disbelieving, then so glad, so very glad, he buries his nose into his neck, can't even suppress that little canine whine.
"Let's go to my place," Snape says, and his eyes are greedy. His hand cups Sirius' cheek, and Sirius leans into it. Self-consciously he wipes his eyes.
"Stop," Snape says, swallowing, "I like … that. I like how-"
He breaks off, seemingly confused-or embarrassed-then: "You look good."
Then, as if to keep Sirius from seeing his embarrassment, he pulls Sirius closer, flush to his heated body and makes a movement and he inhales-
-and when he exhales they are standing in the living room of Snape's apartment. (It's not possible to Apparate into Snape's bedroom, paranoid as he is, he has warded it against Apparition.)
Sirius uses the moment to stumble towards the soft rug in front of Snape's fire place and pull Snape on top of him, who also doesn't lose any time and begins to undress them. Between undressing, Snape presses breathless kisses on every inch of skin he uncovers. They toe off boots, impatiently pull off socks, tear off shirts and jacket and trousers and pants until they're both naked.
"Severus," Sirius says. It feels so good to say this name aloud again.
Severus latches onto Sirius' nipple and begins to suck forcefully and he gasps. He's never been very sensitive but the way Severus does it-licking, sucking, biting lightly, pulling at it with teeth, then laving it with his tongue-makes him arch into his touch, makes his cock hard and twitch.
The more noise he makes, the more eager Severus gets, thrusting his cock between Sirius' legs. Sirius spreads his legs, then reaches down, grasps his buttocks, pulls them apart.
"Please," he rasps.
Severus suddenly stops moving, releases the nipple, and Sirius arches up some more.
"Don't stop, please!"
Severus instead lifts his upper body, then carefully slithers down, until he is settled in front of Sirius' hard cock.
"Oh …" he breathes.
Sirius lifts his head blearily then when he sees where Severus' gaze is directed, realises why he is mesmerised. Severus has never seen him completely hairless before.
"It's for you," he says instantly, slightly panicking that Severus might misread (as he frequently does) or misinterpret. "I thought you might like it."
Severus doesn't seem to hear him. He just continues staring. In the half darkness and with Severus' black eyes, it's impossible to see what the man thinks. It's one of Severus' irritating traits.
"Do you like it?"
Severus still doesn't answer, and as Sirius wants to snap his fingers in front of Severus' eyes, he opens his mouth, looking up at Sirius.
Severus slowly licks the smooth hairless skin around the cock.
He takes Sirius' balls into his mouth, carefully, as Sirius is very ticklish, then lifts them with one hand and licks the perineum and the dark cleft in such a greedy, adoring, hungry manner, that Sirius' question is definitely answered.
He even hears a low whine, and when Sirius moves, to adjust the position of his legs, he emits a growling sound and grabs Sirius' legs harder and pulls him closer, as if he's afraid that Sirius might pull away and take his treasure away from him.
The hot, wet tongue feels heavenly. It's not a favour Severus is doing him, although of course it is. It feels perfectly dirty and filthy, but Severus also feasts on his flesh like a starving man. He laps at his hole, nibbles the soft wrinkly skin, rubs his stubbled cheeks against the thighs, burrows his large nose under the balls and sniffles.
One might think Severus is the canine, not him.
Then Severus lays both of his-hot, heavy-hands onto Sirius cheeks and pulls them apart, and gives him a wicked smirk, and already incomprehensible with lust, he can only pull his knees even further up, pressing his thighs against his chest.
Just as Severus is unreadable, Sirius knows that he himself is like an open book. His face betrays every secret. He blushes easily, and the grey of his irises shows immediately when his pupils blow up with lust and desire, even his lips swell and darken when he wants to be kissed. It's a curse, but right now it's a blessing because he knows that Severus always mistrusts others, that in the back of his mind he always expects people to laugh at him, or to dislike him.
Sirius lays everything he feels into his eyes, and it's enough-Severus' features soften a little, the smirk becomes a grin which takes away at least ten years from his face.
Then he bends down again, stroking the wet, open rim of Sirius' hole with the tip of his tongue. Sirius pushes against him, and suddenly Severus' tongue stabs his hole, and Sirius cries out, every muscle tense.
Severus always liked to rim him, and actually taught Sirius to be less squeamish about it himself, but tonight Severus seems to go wild. Between fucking him with his tongue Severus curses softly, grinds himself against the bedsheets, grips his hips so hard, Sirius knows he'll have bruises tomorrow.
Only after a minute he knows he'll come if he doesn't put a stop on it. He can already feel his balls growing really taut, can feel his cock twitching.
With a determined move he pushes Severus away, then turns around and gets on his hands and knees. Severus looks almost endearing now … his dark gaze darting between the red, open hole and his own rampant cock, his lips parted, as if he can't make up his mind. Sirius hands him the lube and Severus obediently sets to his task.
Sirius takes one finger, but when Severus adds the second, he can feel him prodding that spot … and he shudders. Sparks are shooting through his body, up his spine, and he arches and whines.
"Hurry," he says.
Instead of hurrying, Severus, the sadist, pulls his fingers out slowly, then circles the rim, presses down on the soft wrinkled skin. While he pushes them back again (slowly, much too slowly) he bends forward and licks.
Sirius lets out a scream, undignified and desperate. He pushes back, clenches, and looks at Severus over his shoulder.
"Come on," he says, pushing back some more, and every time he moves, Severus gaze turns more unsteady and his eyes grow a little larger. He swallows, then finally, takes his cock into his hand and pours lube on it. For a moment Sirius, who moves to the side to see, is fascinated by the dark, heavy, glistening cock.
Severus strokes, squeezes at the end, then shuffles closer to Sirius and presses it to his hole. Alone the touch, that wet, slick insistent pressure makes Sirius tremble with even more need.
Severus clears his voice.
"I don't think I'll last long," he says.
Sirius' patience is at an end and he simply pushes back, in one vicious, swift move. Severus, behind him, lets out a cry, that is part surprise, anguish.
"You're killing me …"
Sirius only pulls back a little, savouring the feel of cock inside him. He's not entirely there yet, only halfway in, and at that point it's still a little more pain than pleasure, but it's good for now. It anchors him, gives him time to reign himself in, to make it last.
Severus on the other hand, the poor man … he has his hands on Sirius bum, kneading the flesh. His eyes are squeezed shut, he is forcing himself to breathe very slowly.
"Ready?" Sirius asks, and without waiting for an answer he pushes back more, until he feels Severus balls against his, feels Severus' stomach against his bum. He presses back, savouring each of Severus' groans, and something inside him notes smugly how Severus is at the end of his tether.
As Sirius pulls away again, Severus steadies himself and begins to thrust. He angles it perfectly as if he has memorised exactly how to angle it, to feel that devastating heat pour out into his groins, crawl up his spine and make him see white nothingness.
That's it.
They fall into a perfect rhythm together, although they're intently focussed on their own pleasure-they're both ultimately egoists, but something deep inside them is attuned to the other one, without their doing.
Each movement drags Sirius further towards Severus … away from himself.
He is dimly aware of Severus shouting, of himself clawing at the rug. He's filled with passion to the brim, the way he's never been filled, his heart is flowing over, the sea is pulling him under, and there is Severus-
Severus.
He gives, and while the waves are crashing around him, he feels Severus going into rictus, his fingers digging into his hips and that cock releasing.
“Sirius ...”
He can hear it, although it's only a soft moan, barely audible.
Then they tumble into a pile of bones, sweat covered skin, strands of hair clinging to their faces. Severus holds onto him, and Sirius reaches back and holds onto Severus.
He waits until their breathing evens out again.
"Let's go to bed," he suggests.
"Only if you conjure a wheel chair," Severus says, still wheezing a bit. They're really both not the youngest anymore. Not old of course-but not twenty either. "My knees died ten minutes ago."
"I can't move either. I think you broke my back," Sirius replies.
"Well, then we'll leave it to Lucius and Draco to find our cold bodies tomorrow," Severus says, "We'll probably be in rigor mortis by then. At least the cause of our deaths will be obvious to anyone who finds us."
"You had me at rigor," Sirius mumbles sleepily, but still manages to get onto his knees, and using the sofa to get up. "Come on, Sev."
"Call me that again, and-"
"Sevvy."
Severus snarls and gets up, but has to hold on to the sofa too.
"We could go to Yoga classes together," Sirius says.
Without thinking he clutches Severus' hand and pulls him towards him. "We'd learn to suck our own cocks and then I'd fuck you while you're doing a handstand."
"Promises, promises," Severus smirks.
His face looks youthful. For a brief moment Sirius likes to believe that they're boys again, and at the beginning of their lives, instead of two ageing men who have squandered most of their lives away, lived in some or the other way for others.
"What are you thinking?" Severus asks. His face is unreadable, but Sirius has learned to read the curve of his lips and even the seemingly cold eyes.
"I'm thinking, that now you're my lover," Sirius says.
Severus looks down and doesn't say anything for a long, long while. Sirius doesn't need to hear his answer. The way he is stroking Sirius' arm is answer enough. He looks at Severus black lashes, the blueish shadows under his eyes, the sharp bridge of the enormous long nose. How he could ever miss the fragile, harsh beauty of Severus' Snape is beyond him. He'll never be able to see anything else he knows.
"Let's go to bed," Severus finally says. He looks up and smiles.
The End