Work Text:
“It’s fair to say you may not be well liked here. It’s not Hogwarts. Don’t expect to be king of the school. There is some, shall we say, resistance to outside intrusion.”
“Snape. One, I’m 45, not 15. And two, I’m not you. I don’t make it my full time job to make people hate me. I’ll just apply the old Black charm.” The man winked and Severus inwardly shuddered. “They’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand within days, you’ll see.”
Severus raised an eyebrow. “As I say. This isn’t Hogwarts. The Wampus head of house was a coveted one. Professor Bluebrush was tipped to take it and he’s been here since his school days. The staff are naturally wary. My advice is to approach softly.”
“Thanks but I think I’ll decide that for myself. The headmaster obviously thought I was the best person for the job, that’s good enough for me.”
“Suit yourself.” Severus said, then, “Black?”
“Hm?”
“Why did you take the job? You must have known I was here? I can’t imagine that would have been particularly enticing for you?”
“In case you’re not aware Snape my world doesn’t revolve around you.” He gave a conceding shrug. “It was a good offer. I needed the work.”
Snape thought privately that no job in the world would have induced him to take employment with Sirius Black but he supposed now he had no choice.
He pursed his lips. “The headmaster asked me to show you around, I think she was under the impression that because we knew each other that would be an agreeable arrangement. In any case I think I’ve fulfilled my obligation. I take it you can see yourself back to your quarters?”
Black appeared to hesitate then his mouth hardened into a straight line. He nodded. Severus turned abruptly and left.
He managed to avoid Black for the rest of the week, though just barely. He would see him trying to catch his eye at meal times, which he resolutely ignored, and he gave the Wampus dorm rooms a wide berth. But on Friday evening as he was finishing his marking and pouring himself a generous helping of whiskey, there was a knock at the door to his rooms.
He paused at the threshold and blinked a few times. “Black.” He said, making sure he enunciated each letter to articulate his displeasure.
“Can I come in?”
He should have said no, he should have laughed in his still-handsome face and slammed the door. But instead he opened the door wider for him and gestured for Black to follow him inside. Later he couldn’t say why he’d done that. Perhaps Potter and Draco were right; he was getting soft in his old age.
Black strode in and took a seat in one of his arm chairs without asking. “They hate me.”
Severus turned his back and rolled his eyes to his liquor cabinet. He poured Black a drink; he’d probably need it after the week he’d had, it was no doubt similar to his first week here.
“All the staff. They hate me.”
He passed him the drink. “Mm.”
“Yeah yeah. You were right. Why though?”
Severus took the opposite chair and a sip of whiskey before he spoke. “The reasons I outlined earlier in the week.”
“Yeah but… I’m charming.” Black said that with all the confidence and conviction of a kicked puppy. Annoyingly, pouting was a good look on him. A sure sign that Severus had been alone for far too long.
“Perhaps your brand of charm doesn’t translate.” It did. They both knew that. Handsome didn’t have an area code. The situation was just more complicated than that.
“My students like me.”
This time Severus couldn’t manage to hide his eye roll.
“Yeah, I know.” Black said, taking a sip of his drink. “You prescribe to the terrify them into submission school of education. Let’s just agree to disagree on that one. What is this? It’s good.”
“Bourbon Whiskey. It’s local. Muggle.” He shook his head. “No-maj, rather.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.”
“You better start. There are no-maj teachers here. Don’t call them muggles. It’s considered offensive.”
“I’m afraid that might be too late. Can I ask why?”
“From what I can gather there’s a negative connotation with the word Muggle that doesn’t exist with no-maj. You have to remember they saw what we did to muggles during the wars. They are rather more egalitarian here, or pretend to be.”
Black said nothing for several seconds and sipped at his drink. “You’re not liked here either are you?” He said softly.
For a second he actually considered replying. But then he roused himself, he wasn’t about to start baring his entire soul to Sirius sodding Black. “It’s late.” He said. “I think I'll turn in.”
Black nodded. “Thanks for the drink Snape.”
“Oh please, come on in, make yourself at home.” Black of course did exactly that even though Snape was clearly being sarcastic. It annoyed him that Black was that comfortable in his presence but he could think of little he could do to change that, short of travelling back in time to stop their former selves from bickering and scrapping so constantly and ardently that it verged on— Well. Best not think of what it verged on. (Like an old married couple Arthur Weasley had observed once. How very dare you, Black had said.)
Now it seemed slightly vulgar to spar like that again. There wasn’t much to get in a froth about anyway. Perhaps they’d think of something as time went on.
“Things are no better. I don’t think my association with you is helping. I’ve half a mind to tell them I’m not bloody ex Death Eater scum, don’t lump me in with him.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“No Snape, of course I wouldn’t, that was a joke. Besides, I happen to think... — well, it doesn’t matter what I happen to think. Got any more of that bourbon?”
Snape nodded. He should probably object to all this but it had been so long since he’d had someone to talk to. That it was Sirius ass-face Black didn’t seem to matter.
He handed Black his drink. “Merlin’s saggy left testicle Snape,” Black said, fingering his now abandoned marking with his probably grubby fingers, “isn’t your class supposed to be practical? What is this? A solid 18 inches?”
“Twenty one.” Snape replied. “It’s an advanced class.”
“Pity your bloody students is all I can say.”
“There’s no point in teaching them these things if they can’t consolidate their thoughts articulately into words. I think even you’d agree, the question of why people turn to the dark arts as well as its history is as important as it’s defence. Maybe even more so if we are going to have any hope of raising a generation of kids who can confidently and surely identify and stamp out dark factions before they begin to take root. I believe that’s where modern Defense is headed, more so than just stunning spells and hexes.”
Black studied him with something he couldn’t quite place playing around his eyes. “Ilvermorny is lucky to have you I suspect.” It was certainly the first compliment Black had ever paid him. “Do you think Hogwarts is doing the same?”
Snape considered his reply but Black said, “Actually don’t answer that. I don’t think I want to know. What I do want to know is now you’ve finally nabbed the Defence job, do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” Severus asked, picking at lint on his sleeve.
“Miss what, he says. Bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. Fucking potion making of course. Do you?”
“Oh. No.” He said. “Not at all.”
“Snape. Come on. Do you?”
Severus smothered down a smile. “Well. Maybe. A bit.”
Black grinned at him and shook his head. “You fucking idiot, of course you do. God, you were good. When we were kids. You were so fucking good at it. It was something else. It was - you were - fuck it - you were a pleasure to watch. That’s how good you were. If I had to guess I would have said it would be like cutting off a limb, not brewing.” He stopped and looked down at his glass. When he spoke again it was quietly. “But what would I know. We didn’t know each other did we? We were never friends.”
Snape swallowed and concentrated on keeping his hand steady as he took a fortifying sip of bourbon. It was just that he had thought his days of having someone see him, really see him, were over. He forced himself to answer. “No, we weren’t. Quite the opposite. And as usual you have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Right. Must be the drink. Hey, they tell me your Serpents are the ones to beat.”
“Untouched for the past three years.”
“Interesting.”
“Don’t even bother. You haven’t got a chance. Your lot haven’t taken the cup in half a decade. You’d need a miracle.”
“Or just a really sad old head of house with nothing better to do. Don’t underestimate how fucking bored I am. And I enjoy a challenge.”
“That wasn’t a challenge, it was a warning.”
“Same thing.”
“You’ll only embarrass yourself. On second thoughts, I’ll enjoy being the one to embarrass you. Be my guest Black. Give it all you’ve got.”
“Oh, I will.”
Severus cleared his throat. It was just the way he had said it. He had really been alone for too long if he found such an innocuous comment titillating. “I should probably be getting to bed.” He said.
“I didn’t know you knew about my bewitching the mind speech.” He told Black.
“Everyone knew about that speech.” Black said.
Snape smiled to himself as he closed the door and tidied away their glasses.
~
“Bastard.” Snape said, as Black took his usual seat next to him at breakfast. “Utter bastard. I don’t know how you did it, but I’m going to find out.”
“Skill.” Black said. “Pure and unadulterated.”
“I know that’s not it.” Snape said. “Oh stop gloating, it’s unbecoming of a man your age.”
Black grinned and buttered his toast smugly.
“Your new beater is very good.” Snape conceded. “Where’d you find him?”
“Not telling.”
“Fine be like that.”
“You shouldn’t pout,” Black said. “It’s unbecoming.”
Black really was unbearable. And if he sometimes admired the way his large, big knuckled hands wrapped around his coffee cup in the mornings, enveloping and dwarfing it, well, too much isolation would send anyone batty after awhile. Even old hands at it like himself.
As December approached and along with it the promise of another Christmas spent alone in his rooms, Black caught the flu.
“Dear God, go to the infirmary,” he told him, too many times to count. “You look dreadful.”
“Nothing wrong with me a good Pepperup can’t fix,” Black would reply.
Of course inevitably, Black fainted clear away, in front of his year sixes one morning. Stupid, stupid man, Severus muttered to himself when his Serpents told him as they trudged into second period.
“Sir, Professor Black is in the infirmary.”
“Excuse me, Davis? Explain yourself boy.”
“He fainted Sir. One minute he was transfiguring a pine cone into a beaver, and the next he was on the floor. The beaver’s tail wasn’t quite done sir and it tried to gnaw on it like it was a log. Walker and I had to transfigure it back before it ate itself up sir.”
Snape took a deep breath. “Sit down.” He said.
Stupid man.
He dismissed the class early with instructions to work on their Unforgiveables project due the following week.
“Drink this.”
“Snape. I’mma bit poorly.”
“Imagine my surprise. Go on. Drink up, quickly now.” He helped Black into a sitting position.
“What is it?”
“Does it matter? It will help.” He sighed. “The infection has gone to your lungs. It’s an antibiotic, among other things.”
He had gone to the potions lab and begged Professor Cain to make it, while he stood over her shoulder and watched. It had been quite clear she hadn’t appreciated all his helpful tips and suggestions but even a hack like Cain could probably appreciate the resulting potion was sound. Black gripped the flask with two hands and drank it down.
“Sleepy.” He slurred as Snape took the empty flask from his hands and took a seat next to his bed.
“That means it’s working. I have no idea what you were thinking, getting yourself this sick.”
“Didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Sleep.” He demanded.
“You’re being nice to me.”
“You’re very unwell, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Snape said and for some reason he smoothed Black’s hair out of his face with his hand. His forehead was hot and clammy but his hair was surprisingly soft and he continued to stoke it.
Black, drugged and febrile, rambled away as he did so. “You’re brilliant aren’t you? You’re very very brave and you’re very very brilliant. And your hands are nice.”
“You probably shouldn’t talk.”
“Our students think we’re a couple. Did you know that?”
“Shhh.” Severus said. No he did not. That was most concerning.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
“It’s Christmas.”
“That changes nothing.”
“I’m feeling much better.”
Snape sighed heavily. He did look rather well he had to admit; there was colour back in his cheeks and a renewed brightness to his step. “Come in before you hurt yourself.”
“Here.” Black said and thrust a large wrapped package into his hands before they could take their seats. “Don’t read anything into it.”
“What is this?”
“It’s Christmas isn’t it? Just open it.”
Snape eyed him warily then, gingerly, he prised open the brown paper wrapping.
Black sighed and sat. “God, you're crap at opening presents.”
Was that was this was? A present? From Sirius Black?
“It’s a cauldron.” A rather good one too.
“Look inside.”
“What’s all this?”
“I spelled it. It’s bigger on the inside.”
“Yes I know how magic works.”
“There’s everything in there to build your own lab. Or at at least to start you off. I thought since these rooms are so damn big there’d be plenty of room… I thought… I thought I could help you, you know, if you wanted. I’m fairly handy, or at least I’m not bad. I thought it could be something we could do - that is, something to do. It’s stupid. You hate it.”
Snape blinked at him. Strangely enough the world hadn’t appeared to have shifted off its axis and he seemed to be wide awake. Remarkable. “I—I don’t think it’s stupid.“ He said. “I don’t hate it.”
“Oh. Good.”
“Black? Thank you.”
“Don't make a thing of it. It’s nothing.”
So he didn’t, just arched an eyebrow at him mockingly to let him know that he still found him thickheaded Gryffindor not worthy of his time and fetched the package he had been saving in case Black did happen to call by today. “Here.” He said, and tossed it into his lap.
“Oof. What’s this? For me?”
“Don’t get too excited.”
“I see we have similar taste in wrapping.” Black said removing the brown paper bag. He whistled, “this looks old.”
“Aged 20 years. Small batch. Usually hard to find, but I know someone.” It was true, he did know a guy but the thing had still been a bitch to track down nonetheless. And he would probably opt to die a thousand painful deaths than tell Black how much he had paid for it.
“Shall we?”
“Why not?” He fetched glasses and let Black do the honours.
“Dear God. What was that pigswill we were drinking before? I’ve been a fool. Where has this been all my life?” He searched around for an insult but he could think of none so he smiled softly instead.
He thought of the feeling of Black’s hair under his hand. He thought of the war and of their childhood and of regret and of pain. He thought of them now, sitting together and smiling at one another. Perhaps the past was not as important as he thought it was. Perhaps it was enough to be sitting here with a warm body enjoying expensive and very good bourbon while it snowed outside.
“This is nice.” Black said, echoing his thoughts. “It’s different here and it’s solitary, but sometimes it’s nice, being away. Less to remind you.”
Snape wondered if they were to make love, who would fuck whom. He thought he probably wouldn’t mind either way. He thought of Black’s big broad hands and the way the fabric of his trousers stretched over his thighs.
“Is that why you’re here?” Black continued. “No bad memories?”
Severus smiled wryly. “I’m just here because I needed the work and they offered.”
“Ah.”
Neither of them said anymore about it but Severus didn’t need to be an Occlumens to guess Black’s reasons were similar to his own.
That night in bed he felt like he wanted to masturbate. He tried to think of someone nameless, of no-one but he kept seeing Black’s face. He imagined them both in bed, himself on top, Black manhandling him, taking his weight. He imagined what Black’s prick would feel like inside him and when he came into his sheets he imagined he was being filled up with Black’s come. He didn’t dare imagine Black wanting him, Black caressing him, Black panting his name, some things were too far fetched to contemplate, even in one’s fevered wank fantasies.
Still. The present. That was maybe the most thoughtful thing anyone’s done for him, well, ever. Mustn’t that mean something? Though Severus had always been sappy like that hadn’t he? Annoying really. Had never done him any good. All those years pretending he didn’t feel anything only to become a sappy old man with a chest full of scars and misplaced hope.
Don't read anything into it, Black had said. Too late.
In the new year, as promised, Black helped him build a lab in his overlarge rooms. They commandeered a section of his living space and Black built him a long work bench with voluminous overhead cupboards. Black was right, he was handy. The man could transfigure anything, a skill that Severus himself had always considered too pedestrian to become really proficient at (though, in truth, after watching Black he started to change his mind), and he had seemed to have acquired the skill of building things in the muggle way, using muggle tools to cut the vast planks of wood down to size. Severus couldn’t help but notice he was good with his hands; practical and clever, measuring and cutting with sure, steady movements. He tried not to stare at those broad, clever fingers too long nor at the way his muscled forearms would bulge with the sleeves of his shirt pushed up or the way his forehead would furrow attractively in concentration when he was figuring out a thing.
He certainly didn’t imagine licking the beads of sweat from his neck that gathered in that place in his clavicle, and it should go without saying that not once did he imagine Black lifting him with those strong arms onto his newly built work table just to find out how sturdy it was.
Really, by the time Black had finished, Severus thought himself quite discomposed.
“We should celebrate.” Black said when it was done and Severus had arranged yet to be filled flasks and jars in the cupboards, lining them up neatly like rows of shiny, uneven teeth. “There’s a place I’ve been wanting to try in the village. Friday?”
“Alright.” Severus said before he had a chance to panic about it and decline.
“Is this ok?” Black asked.
On Friday evening he and Black walked together through the entrance connecting Ilvermorny to the nearest Wizarding village. Sparks from his sixth year had been loitering around the cloistered walkways doing god only knew what, but knowing her it was something not good. Have fun sirs, she had said to them with what looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk. Back to your dorm Sparks, Severus had barked. Careful, Black had stage whispered to him, if you’re going to start being nice to the little bastards you’re going to get a reputation for being soft. And yes, he had failed to give detention or even to take points but what did Black know about it.
And then once they got there Black had looked at him anxiously and asked if he thought the restaurant was ok.
“It’s perfectly adequate Black.” He replied. He had no idea what the concern would be.
“Sirius.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’d like you to call me Sirius.”
“Whatever for?”
“Could I call you Severus do you think?”
“I don’t see how I could possibly stop you.” Severus replied. He wondered why Black was insisting on making an already awkward dinner even more awkward.
Black smiled for some reason. “Good enough.” He said.
They talked about quidditch and school and living so far from home and the way the snow fell on the mountains in winter and how that made up for some of it and the food was good and Black chose the wine which was also good and at some point Severus forgot the he had been dreading this and started enjoying himself.
“This is nice,” Sirius said. “Being out.”
“I suppose.”
“Don’t do this often, do you?”
“Nope.” Black knew perfectly well he didn’t, he spent most of his free time with him after all. The worst thing about spending time with Black was having to put up with those excruciating niceties. Though Black never seemed to mind when he answered them with a single syllabled word or a grunt.
“Did you enjoy your—“ Black paused mid sentence. “—Oh for Christ’s sake Severus, is this a date?”
Severus whipped his head up, realised his mouth was hanging open, snapped it shut.
“Are you even gay? Are you interested in me? Is this a date?”
To his own credit Severus only sat their mutely for, oh, nine or ten seconds. “Oh,” he said finally. “Errr... yes - obviously - and - ah - if you would like it to be.”
Bloody Black, who smiled like that? All crinkly and disarming and handsome in a way that made your heart ache. If he wasn’t careful, a man could get to thinking a smile like that was only for him.
He imagined Black reaching into his chest and ripping out his heart, it beating, bloody, within his fist.
“Good,” Black said. “Good, that’s good.”
“Have I rendered you incapable of speaking in multiple syllables?” He asked.
“Must have. You know, I missed you making fun of me. All those years, I never stopped.” And Severus gripped his water glass. “Did you,” Black went on, “miss me? Sorry. That’s stupid. Of course not.”
Severus thought of them both as younger men, at once in the prime of their lives and hollowed, cowered by grief. He thought of how Black’s dark eyes would flash in anger, how he’d liked making them do that, how it had seemed in that moment like he was really living. He thought of coming early to order meetings just so he could hear Black call him names, calling him names in turn and how, after that day in the department of mysteries, those meetings had seemed pointless and far too quiet. “Sirius,” he said, voice rougher than he had intended. “Yes.”
Sirius nodded and was silent for a beat. “Stupid really.”
“Yes. What stupid men we are.”
“The stupidest.”
“Is this really a good idea? We’re bound to tear each other apart.”
“Severus.” Black fixed him with a hard expression. “I - God, how should I put this? I’ve been watching you wiggle that tight little ass at me for the past nine months. Right now I don’t much fucking care if this is a good idea or not.”
Strange that Severus could think of no one else who had ever made his body feel like this. Alive. Electric. Strange that it should be Black.
Of course it was then that the damn waiter appeared, brandishing dessert menus.
“No!” They both said at once.
Black gripped his hand tight as they walked back to the castle. His hand was warm, reassuring, and it didn’t feel as odd as he would have expected.
At his door, with his heart in his throat, he asked Black if he wanted to come in, Black said yes, before he even had the whole sentence out. Some part of him wanted him to say no. He would have hated him but at least that was familiar. He had no idea what to expect next.
“Would you like a drink?”
“I’m not thirsty.” He said which didn’t even really make sense.
“I—,”
“Shhh.” Black said. “I know.” And then he brushed his lips against his own and then they were kissing and it was ugly, breathless, messy, wonderful, then he knew what it was like for Sirius Black to want him, for Sirius Black to moan into his mouth and to pant his name. And it did feel like he was touching some part of him that no one else ever had, not even her. Maybe especially not her because this was real and he wasn’t even dreaming.
“Your eyes.” Severus said, it had tumbled out of his lips before it had a chance to reach his brain.
“My eyes?”
“They’re so expressive. They’ve always given away exactly what you’re thinking. Always. Since you were eleven. Did you know?”
Sirius shook his head. “No one’s ever said.”
That’s so strange, Severus thought, when it’s the sexiest thing about you.
Sirius pulled him by the hand into his bedroom and then they were falling into the bed in a tangle of limbs and Black’s mouth was on his neck and his hands on his arse. “I don’t,” he said, “I don’t have much experience. I’m afraid I-“
“Don’t.” Black said. “I’ve spent most of my adult life - dear god - the number of years I’ve spent really living, you could - you could probably count—” He swallowed thickly and Severus reached out instinctively and stroked his rough cheek with the back of his knuckles. “We’re just going to have to figure this out at the same time then.” He said.
“I’d like that.” Black said. “I want to know what you like. I want to know everything.” And then his lips were on his and his tongue in his mouth and Severus thought take me, make me yours. Destroy me.
Then Black was tugging his clothes off with hurried hands, please, he said, please. Yes, Severus answered, and soon they were cock to cock, skin to skin and Sirius manoeuvred him on top with his big hands on his bum. It was almost too good, too much as Black pushed and ground him into his hard prick and they both gasped into each other’s mouths.
“Fuck.” Black said. “I’ve wanted this - fuck - so fucking much.”
So have I, Severus tried to say, of course I have, I’d be mad not to but then a blunt, wet finger was pressing into him and instead he let out a long keening sound and he wanted, more than anything he’d wanted in his life, he wanted.
“I’ve rubbed myself raw thinking of this ass,” Black panted and pressed and rubbed. “It’s better. It’s better than I thought.”
“More.” Severus pleaded and Black put in a second and third finger and he curled them just right and he wasn’t being gentle with him, no not at all, and Severus jolted against him then he was coming, coming, coming into Sirius’ hard belly with his eyes clenched tight against the intensity of it.
Then Black pulled his fingers out and grabbed him by the ass and used his body to get himself off, manipulating Severus up and down with noisy masculine grunts.
“This,” Severus panted feverishly. “This is what I want, this, this.” Sirius’s fingers dug painfully into his skin and he came with a great big shuddering moan, soaking them both wet and Severus felt awash with a familiar feeling that felt like power.
They took tandem trembling breaths and Sirius put his arms around him and didn’t go anywhere. There were no awkward, brash excuses, no hurried rearranging of clothes. No tiptoeing hastily into the night.
“I think,” Sirius panted, “I think I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. Much longer than I’m willing to admit to you.”
Luckily Severus’ smile was hidden in Sirius’s chest.
“Should I stay?” Black asked.
Severus tangled his fingers in dark chest hair, circled a pink nipple.
Once upon a time, he had given his life so that others could live. Did he dare now to take it back?
~~
“Severus?”
“Severus!”
“Hm?”
“Can you get your damn hearing checked like I keep asking?”
“My hearing’s impeccable. You mumble.”
“You’re an old fool. Have you seen my green jumper? I can’t find it.”
“The one with the mustard stain? Have you tried the bin?”
“You know I like that jumper, it’s comfy. And you can hardly see the mustard stain anymore.”
Severus sighed. “I washed it. It’s folded away in the wardrobe, ready to be packed.”
Sirius smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“No never. Ten years after we first kissed and I’m hearing this for the first time. My heart’s all a flutter.”
“Careful smart ass, I might take it back.”
He swanned out of the room so Severus waited, read a book in their small, light filled sitting room. They’d moved out of Ilvermorny years ago, though they lived nearby, Sirius still worked there, Snape did not. Severus had packed last night but Sirius, typically, refused to get ready until the last possible moment. It was summer and it was the afternoon and he was dressed for London not Massachusetts and sweat dripped down his neck and soaked through the back of his shirt even with the ceiling fan on full.
“Sirius hurry up.” He called. “I’m melting.”
“Come and help then.”
Memory fades. That’s what they don’t tell you. Memories can be, if not replaced, pushed aside by new ones. Like Sirius’s lazy, lopsided smile, or the way he catches him looking at him sometimes, even now, kind of dopey and proud, or the way he talks about him to people at parties, casually throwing around words like brilliant. My partner’s a genius, he would tell people, though if you spend enough time with him, he’ll tell you that himself. He should really tell him to stop with the hyperbolic rhetoric but he can’t bring himself to. Besides he liked hearing Sirius call him his partner. He didn’t think he would ever get enough of that. At home, in private, he’d call him brave, strong... good. My brave, brave man. I’m going to suck you, so hard you see stars, because you deserve it. Severus will never, not in a thousand years tell him to stop doing that.
In their bedroom Sirius was naked from the waist up, sweat glistened, and clutching a shirt in each hand. “The lilac or the grey?” He asked.
Severus nodded towards the lilac.
It’s memories like this. Pedestrian, commonplace. Resonant.
He took the shirts from his hands, placed them on a chair.
“You’re beautiful,” he told him.
“You’re getting sentimental in your old age.”
“Perhaps but you’re still beautiful.”
“I’m getting fat. And grey.”
He unbuttoned Sirius’s fly. “I happen to like that.”
“Oof. Did you just push me?”
Severus climbed on the bed after him, straddled his thighs. “Mm. You might need to punish me.”
“I’ll punish you alright you little flirt. Just think, there are people out there who think you’re a proper English gentleman.”
“Yow know better don’ yow.” Severus said slipping in to his long thrown off midlands accent. “Oy ay no blooday gentleman.”
“Thank god for that,” Sirius said. “It turns me on when you talk like that, do you know that?”
“Ay does at now?”
These are the memories Severus keeps, savours, applies like patchwork over the open wound of a previous life until he finds finally he doesn’t have to; the bleeding’s stopped.
“Won’t they be waiting for us?” Black observed wryly.
“The portkey can wait and so can they,” Severus replied.
He bent down to kiss his mouth.
Sirius took him in his arms.