Chapter Text
They would be married in the spring. They’d met through friends and had hit it off. He said he preferred Dostoevsky and she Chekhov. They both liked German Opera. It was a decent match, and one his friends approved of. And why not? She came from money. Old money, in fact. Rachel Black. If you hadn’t heard of her you’d have heard of her father.
Severus liked her well enough. Well of course he did.
She was pretty wee thing. Tolerably so and he was getting of an age where he should be married and Rachel had been there at the right time.
If he found her a little boring, well, what did that matter? They had friends in common and there was much to be said for an easy dinner party or a painless afternoon at Cowdray.
Her parents approved, or at least enough to invite them to their country place at weekends.
“Darling, have you seen my grey blazer?” He flicked impatiently through the rack of suits on his side of the walk-in.
“The one you wore to Ascot?”
“No, the one I wore to that lunch thing with the Prewitts.”
“It’s not getting cleaned is it, darling?”
He frowned. “Blast. I think it is.”
Rachel gave him an indulging smile. “It’s not a shooting weekend, Severus darling. No one will care what you’re wearing.”
“One likes to impress,” he murmured. He held up a blue tie then a red one. “Hm?”
She gestured at the red. “Mummy says Sirius will be there this weekend.”
“Your brother?” he asked airily.
“Mm. You’ll get to meet him. He doesn’t usually come to these things but I suppose he wants daddy to give him money for something or another. He’s rather a bother darling, you’ll think he’s dreadful but he really is a lot of fun if you get to know him. We were absolutely devoted to each other growing up.” He’d been given the impression that Rachel’s brother was summarily unimportant as sometimes certain people were within families and thus not worth bothering about. If one couldn’t use someone for anything there wasn’t much point to them. On the other hand, one did like to be aware of who was being talked about, wouldn’t do to be the only one left out of gossip circles. And Sirius was apparently someone who was often the subject of gossip. This was a good thing, he decided. Oh yes, I met him once, he would say. He was rather dull. Not sure what all the fuss is about.
“Well if you love him darling I’m sure I will too.”
“It’s okay if you don’t,” she said, folding a chiffon dress into her suitcase. “He and Daddy don’t get on at all. You’ll have something in common. Wear the blue.”
“You think?”
“Oh yes, you look dishy in the blue.”
The drive up was a bore; they took the Jaguar and Severus drove and once they were on the highway they put the top down because the weather was good. They chatted idly about work and gossiped about people they knew and when they arrived his hair was a mess from the wind. He smoothed it down in the rear view before giving the keys to the valet.
He’d been to Grimmauld twice before, and had in that time learnt to suppress his urge to be awed at the size of the lavish country home, its grand regency bearing and the breadth of its grounds. He acted like everyone did that came to Grimmauld House; that it was a quaint but charming little weekend place.
“Who else is here this weekend darling?”
“I can’t imagine. Mummy just said Sirius — hello Rose, dear,” Rachel said as they were greeted at the door. “Where’s Mummy? Don’t tell me she forgot we’re coming?”
“No ma’am, Her Lady’s taken the car up to the village. She said to say she wouldn’t be long if you arrive before her.”
“Nice of her to remember us. She’ll be all in a tither over Sirius,” Rachel explained to him as they walked inside. “Anyone else here yet, Rose?”
“Mr Travers arrived this morning,” Rachel made a face at him behind the housekeeper’s back. He’d met David Travers before - the man was a world-class bore and he smirked back knowingly. “And I’ve made a room up for Mr Black.” The woman turned and beamed at the mention of Rachel’s brother. Apparently his arrival this weekend was something of an event.
“Yes I did hear something about that,” Rachel replied wryly. “Thanks Rose, where’s Daddy? Is he in his study?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Our usual room, Rose?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
They spent what was left of the afternoon getting settled into their room, a large affair with an adjoining bathroom off to one side and decent views of the garden. Grimmauld House, as Severus had worked out the first time he had stayed here, had six such rooms as well as a butlers suite. Severus had been pleased to note that their view was one of the best.
They unpacked then showered and dressed for aperitifs before dinner, Severus wearing the blue blazer and Rachel a simple burgundy shift dress, understated yet perfectly cut. She had that knack that the upperclass did of knowing exactly what to wear for every occasion; she always looked well turned out wherever they went while never appearing gauchely overdressed. It was one of the things Severus liked most about her.
She kissed him and said, I was right about the jacket. Severus smiled and indulged her though was relieved moments later by a knock at the door. He was glad of it; he’d just showered and the whole thing would have been mostly a nuisance.
“Severus, darling.”
He kissed his future mother-in-law on the right cheek, just once. Twice would of course be vulgar. “My lady. It’s been far too long.”
“You’ll have to start calling me Mummy soon won’t you, Severus? Have you seen your father yet, Rachel, darling?”
“I popped in this afternoon. He looked like he was about to nod off, poor poppet.”
“He’s dying to talk to you, Severus. David has him all excited about buying shares in, what was it? Oh, some sort of computer thing, I hardly know. But apparently you’re just the man to talk to.”
“I told him he wasn’t to claim Severus all weekend. I was quite bossy about it I’m afraid.”
“Let the men have their fun dear. Come downstairs. Everyone is waiting.”
Severus had long since beat out of himself any tendency to baulk at the sort of extravagance on display in the drawing room of Grimmauld House. Anyway, as large as it was and as lavishly decorated with ancient tapestries and priceless French art, it was a tad old and depressing. His own tastes ran rather more modern. He was a man of the nineties and he liked to keep current. Indeed, he could probably sell his flat in Mayfair and buy two Grimmualds. He tried to keep that in mind when he stayed there lest he succumb to too many feelings of awe and intimidation.
Besides his future in-laws, there was David Travers, whom he’d met, and another couple named Rosier, quite a bit older than himself, whom he hadn’t. The wife was a horse-faced woman who carried with her a small terrified-looking terrier that she fed bits of lobster hors d’oeuvre with her fingers. He could see neither hide nor tail of the infamous Black son and he wondered if perhaps he’d reneged on the weekend after all.
“Severus, old chap. I was hoping you’d be here. Jolly good. How’s business?”
“David,” Severus nodded and answered that it was good, never better and listened as the man told him about a horse he was buying - or selling - he didn’t quite catch which. Severus knew nothing about horses and he wondered how he had ever given him the impression he did. Eventually they were joined by the husband of the terrier woman, a short, moustachioed man who unbelievably turned out to be quite as dry and long winded as Travers. Rosier was apparently of the Kent Rosier’s who Severus knew to own railroads. Dull or not he would be a good man to say was in one’s circle and Severus resolved to impress. Yet after several long minutes of nodding and brow raising in roughly the right places Severus’s eyes and mind wandered about the room.
When he first saw him, he could have sworn the world stopped. England could have blown up leaving only the two of them for all he would have noticed. It wasn’t that he was beautiful, though he was, or that he looked completely out of place in his leather jacket and long hair, like a bright jewel in amongst stones, or that he wore a scowl like he was wearing a crown — haughty and bored and roguishly handsome. But rather it was all of that at once and none of it at all. It was the infinitesimal, indescribable essence of him that Severus found so instantly captivating. He rather thought he must be red in the face because he was suddenly oh so very warm.
“Sirius stop brooding and come and meet Severus.” His fiancé’s voice shocked him out of his reverie and he roused himself guiltily. How long had he been staring? Had she noticed? For a second he had forgotten about Rachel entirely.
The man turned his head with an insouciant ease but Severus could have sworn, could have sworn that he did a double take on seeing him. Though perhaps that was just because the man had enthralled him so thoroughly that he was seeing things.
“Rachel,” Travers simpered. “You look positively radiant. I’m sure you get more dazzling every time I see you. Do come and talk to us.”
“David. I must steal my fiancé from you for just a moment, then I’m all yours.” The eye roll was implied if not actually present. Then, snaring Severus by his arm, she tugged him across the room toward where the young man stood brooding attractively by large French windows. To Severus it felt only like the natural pull of the tide; he could do nothing else. Sirius. His mind caressed over the word, luxuriated in its seductive sibilants. He hadn’t thought much about the name upon first hearing it spoken but now he realised that it was the most beautiful, perfect word in existence. Sirius. The Dog Star, the brightest star in the sky, twice as bright as any other. From the Greek Seirios, meaning glowing or scorching. It suited him well.
The man flicked his eyes over him carelessly. “Sirius, this is Severus, the one I’ve been telling you about. Yummy isn’t he?”
Sirius looked nonplussed and Severus thought if he expressed even a mild opinion to the contrary he might just break into a million pieces. Instead the man opened his mouth and said, “Haven’t resolved any of those daddy issues I see, sister mine. All that therapy wasted.”
Severus eyes grew wide for a moment. Oh my. He tried not to let his mouth smirk too much at the man’s temerity. His voice was masculine and rich, an upper class accent deliberately softened by a more casual treatment across the tops of the vowels and consonants. And it lit Severus up like a damned Christmas tree.
“Oh fuck off, Sirius,” Rachel said.
Severus tried being offended for the both of them like a good husband to be. It wasn’t as if he was that much older than his affianced — he was hardly ten years her senior, a respectable amount to be older than one’s wife, he considered. One ought to marry younger if one reasonably could.
But his manufactured umbrage was quickly derailed by consideration of Sirius’s age. He tried to recall what Rachel had told him. She was the younger, he knew that. By how much? A year? More? Yes, he thought he remembered her saying it was a year, or not much over. So then, Sirius was perhaps nine years his junior. He kicked himself for not committing every word she had uttered about her brother to memory for him to pour over later like a snifter of the sweetest brandy.
“God forbid you might be nice about something for once.”
“What, like you are?”
“Yes, actually.”
Sirius scoffed softly. “Is that what she tells you, Severus? No one in our family is nice, least of all her. I suppose you’ll find that out soon enough… Or perhaps you have already.”
Severus couldn’t help it; he smiled at him conspiratorially, let his mouth curl up at one edge flirtatiously, his eyes darkening. He was sure he hadn’t imagined the way Sirius’s eyes widened at him at that, nor the way they held each other’s gaze afterwards, steady and unwavering, like a handshake of mutual understanding.
After dinner he retired with the other men to the drawing room for brandy and cigars. Sirius did not join them. Lord Black, his future father in law, pulled Severus aside as promised and they spent the rest of the evening discussing the risks of investing in the new dot-com market. It was area that Severus was not comfortable in; he was a property man foremost and this new ephemeral business model made him nervous. The other men he employed were eager to get their hands in but Severus was reticent. He could see the market was overcapitalised and he told Orion as much. He did not mind to be commandeered thus; he enjoyed his talks with Lord Black and had found they had many ideas and opinions in common. He was a fierce man and did not suffer any fools though neither in fact did Severus himself, except to get him what he wanted. The Marquess was rather everything Severus himself wished to be; powerful, wealthy and bold enough to say exactly what he meant without worrying about what anyone else thought of him.
Perhaps that was what Black junior had meant by daddy issues. He couldn’t help but wonder what that exquisite creature was doing right then — had he gone to his room or had he left for the evening? If so, where did he go? And what had he made of Severus? Had he left an impression?
“What did you think of my brother?” Rachel asked him later, taking off her earrings in the dresser mirror.
“Like you guessed,” he replied airily. “I thought he was tiresome.”
“I didn’t think he’d be your sort of person,” she agreed.
And yes, Sirius Black was most probably kind of a prick but one thing was for certain — he wasn’t dull. No, not at all.
Prepped for bed, sans make up and enrobed in a satin negligee, Rachel was all hands. Again, feeling slightly guilty, he put her off. “Darling, I’m afraid I have a headache.” She looked hurt but rallied quickly; “You did look rather odd earlier actually. I hope my father didn’t bore you half to death.”
“Just the travel, I imagine,” he offered. “I think I just need to take a shower and some pain relief.”
In the shower he thought about Sirius, the way his brow furrowed in the middle, those high patrician cheek bones, and the deep v of his t-shirt exposing his athletic chest and touched himself until he came all over his own fist.
Severus was well aware of his attraction to men and he usually wasn’t much bothered by it. It was the nineties after all, no one much cared, as long as you didn’t flaunt it. He’d slept with both women and men, he’d sowed his oats but he’d always assumed he’d settle down with a woman. It wasn’t the done thing to end up with a man, at least not in his circles, and though his proclivities weren’t exactly a secret, a relationship with a member of one’s own sex would be another thing altogether. And it wasn’t as if they could marry now could they?
He’d always been content with this arrangement.
Then again, he’d never met anyone like Sirius Black. He’d never had such a sharp, visceral attraction to anyone before like he had Black.
For the rest of the weekend he was hyper aware of him and his proximity to his own person. He found himself having to know where the man was at all times. Engendering to sit at meal times where he could best see his face.
Sirius, as far as he knew, never socialised or even talked to anyone outside his immediate family or the help and virtually ignored David Travers and the Rosier couple, Felix and Minette. Though Severus did once see him sharing a cigarette with the valet round the side of the house near the butlers entrance which sent a bolt of jealousy through him so fierce he had to tear his gaze away so as not to glower at them horribly.
He learned from Rachel after some careful questioning that Sirius, the much cherished only son, had always been wild and rebellious and an all round headache for the family practically since he could talk. Throughout his teens and early adulthood there had been almost constant fights and threats made to no avail. The Marquess was never able to tame his son into a progeny fit for civilised society. While not going as far as cutting him off (he still retained a trust fund, which was apparently substantial), Sirius remained a thorn in the Black family side, hardly ever spoken of, not mentioned in conversation with friends and acquaintances and turning up, so Rachel said, only when he wanted something.
Severus started to wonder why he was there that weekend, given that he seemed not to want to be there at all. It was never said though he did hear an argument between Sirius and Black senior in the latter man’s study after which the younger man stormed out with much voice raising and door slamming. Severus himself was not snooping, rather he just happened to be nearby when the incident occurred.
If Sirius was 32 or 33 as Severus had guessed he did act rather juvenile at times though notably that did not serve to quench his desire for him.
Besides that, Sirius did not cause much of a furore while he was there, he was mostly ignored and ignored everyone else in turn. It was only the women in his family that spoke to him at all, his mother fussing around him, bemoaning his lack of a woman to care for him or his seeming aversion to the barber’s chair. He and Rachel continued to swipe at each other throughout the weekend though on closer inspection Severus concluded that they did even so seem to be quite fond of one another, even giggling conspiratorially together at the expense of this guest or the other and sharing in what appeared to be the odd personal joke between the two of them. Severus had no siblings himself and he had gathered that just what they were like sometimes.
On Sunday they had brunch out on the lawn and Sirius looked to die for in a loose white shirt open at the collar and a chain about his neck. As was his want, he had neglected to shave and Severus, like he had been doing for most of the weekend, tried not to focus too hard on what that would feel like upon his lips and upon his tongue.
It wasn’t his usual thing, this sort of bad boy type, though he had to admit that if he was out at one of the clubs his friends would drag him to when they had been a few years younger, he would have done everything he conceivably could to go home with the man.
“Severus, you’re a self made man,” Lord Black commented partway through the meal. He had that way of powerful men of suddenly and jarringly interrupting the flow of conversation and steering it in another direction entirely. “Why don’t you tell my son what it is like to build something through sheer hard work alone?”
Severus winced inwardly, his low roots were no secret though he didn’t care to dwell on them. Even so they were sometimes trotted out at events like these in such company like an amusing party favour. If Severus was the right sort of new money he had Malfoy to thank for that. He’d long since bullied any common impulse out of him.
Outwardly he gave a tight lipped smile. “I’m sure a young man such as Sirius does not care to be lectured to by an old man like myself.”
“Nonsense,” Black senior said. “You’re both of an age. Consider it as a favour to me.”
Severus thought the man wouldn’t be asking if he knew just what sorts of terrible, lecherous thoughts he’d had about his only son over the past two days. “Very well,” he said and considered a reply that would both keep him in the favour of Black senior and not preclude the possibility of having nasty animal sex with Black junior. “I’m not sure I have any advice per se, and yes I’ve worked hard but no harder I’d imagine than a doctor or a farmer whom I’m sure we can all agree are the backbone of our nation. I suppose I have taken opportunities when they were offered and when they were not I took steps to ensure they were.”
“Well said,” Rosier offered from his left, though Severus had to imagine that no one here really had to work a day in their lives.
Sirius however looked at him like he was thoroughly unimpressed. Severus couldn’t blame him; after all, he had been speaking an absolute load of old bullocks. Usually these sorts of people didn’t notice. The man bit into a stick of cucumber garnish and asked him, “What actually is it that you do?” like Severus was a bit of dirt on his shoe.
Travers laughed like it was a good old joke. “Mr Snape is a man who makes money, isn’t that right old chap?”
Sirius scoffed knowingly.
“I simply use capital to make more capital,” Severus clarified.
“I’m sure the world needs more of that,” Sirius sneered. “Men that do nothing but build wealth while creating nothing are a dime a dozen. I’ve met a thousand such men.”
“I’m sure you have,” Severus agreed. “I simply happen to be better at it than most.” He wondered if they were still talking about money.
Sirius continued to look at him as if he had done nothing more than boast about being the best shelf stacker at the local Asda. Severus held his gaze firmly. One thing he knew about the upper classes, if you made a lot of money, an obscene amount of money, it didn’t matter who you were, they would be impressed by you. He thought that Sirius Black, for all his virtue signalling, wasn’t all that different. He let his mouth curl up into a knowing smirk and Sirius let go of his gaze suddenly and looked down at his plate.
Your father is wrong, Severus thought, you aren’t made for dull things like acquisitions and shares and boardroom deals. You were made to be looked at and admired. If you were mine you wouldn’t work a day in your life. If you were mine you would be a jewel on my arm in the day and a whore in my bed at night. I would keep you and worship you and no one would dare talk to you as they have today.
He glanced up at the old man quickly and he thought he looked pleased with his answer. All in all he had handled that rather deftly, he congratulated himself.
He remembered then to look at Rachel sitting to his right. He gave her a smile and an eye roll to indicate he thought the whole thing a bore. He had forgotten about her again. While managing to appease both Black men he had neglected to also factor in his betrothed. It was just that the mere presence of his fiancé’s brother made him lose all sense of propriety and good sense.
“Severus, my son is full of his own self importance while never managing to actually do anything of value, I wouldn’t put much stock by his opinion.”
“My dear, that is simply not true, Sirius had that, what was it darling? That little charity thing. Helping all those poor men who had nowhere to live or had no shoes, I forget which —“
“Prisoners, mama,” Rachel offered looking down at her hands.
“Oh yes. He was even in Vanity Fair that one time wasn’t he, darling. Britain’s top philanthropists under thirty, see I do remember some things. Shame that all got derailed. You were doing so well. Perhaps if you cut your hair, sweetheart—”
At that Sirius pushed back his chair suddenly, got up and walked away, saying nothing.
His mother tittered awkwardly, “—Oh dear, was it something I said?”
After a moment or two of discomfort, Rosier clapped his hands together, “Well, I think it’s just capital. All these young captains of industry stirring up the waters. I for one welcome the new blood. And it’s like I always say, it’s better to have new money than no money.”
Severus laughed along with everyone else even though he had the distinct impression the joke was at his expense.
…
When they got back to London, life continued on rather in the same way it always had. Rachel was busy with the wedding and he wrote checks and pointed occasionally at options for flowers and table settings. He was very careful to not mention her brother more than was necessary nor talk around him in a way that was unduly suspicious.
He spent one entire afternoon at the flat they shared in Mayfair pouring through every copy of Vanity Fair he’d bought since 1988 and finally found a picture of the man looking beautiful and windswept in front of a bridge in industrial London. He poured over the accompanying article, committing every fact and anecdote to memory, then ripped it out carefully and hid it in the back of his tie drawer, slipping it underneath the custom made shelving.
Weeks went by which turned into months and in that time he thought he was able to forget and slake himself of his dangerous obsession. Sirius Black was merely a throbbing memory that he allowed himself to pour over when he was alone, nothing more.
In August he went to the opera with Lucius and Narcissa while Rachel was away visiting friends.
“You look rather forlorn old thing,” Lucius observed. “I suppose you’re feeling unmoored with your better half away.”
“That must be it,” he agreed. Malfoy was right about the former while being wrong about the latter; since Sirius Black had spectacularly burst into his field of consciousness, his life, which he had previously liked in a smug sort of fashion, had seemed quite flat and beige.
“No one would blame you my dear. She’s not only as cute as a button and fabulously wealthy but has the name to go with it. I only know of one other man so lucky in all of London and that is myself.” Lucius was, as everyone knew, utterly devoted to his wife, who was, it must be said, uncommonly beautiful. “Trust you Snape to be so canny. You are the envy of every man on the social scene.”
He feigned a smug grin he did not feel. “Yes, I’ve done rather well, haven’t I?”
“Don’t worry old chap, she’ll be back before you know it. I wouldn’t worry that her eye will wander while she’s away, she’s as devoted to you as you are to her.”
Just like Malfoy to come so spectacularly and confidently to the wrong conclusion. He’d known Lucius since his first week at Oxford as a wide eyed 18 year old, desperate to pretend he fit in and Narcissa he’d met the week after that. Though they had been from different worlds and Severus nothing to offer and they nothing to gain from an association, they had taken him under their wing. Lucius and Narcissa had been Severus’s first entry point into society and without them he would be nothing. They knew him better than anyone alive yet it was only Cissy who, after all these years, really had his number. He made a face as if to say, ah you’ve got me all figured out old chap, well done you.
It was a decent rendition of Arabella and the Zdenka was quite good and at the interval they went to the bar to mingle or be seen, or whatever it was that one did these things for.
It was there, trapped amongst the barren wasteland of the London glitterati, Severus again found his soul. Or at least that was how it felt. As before it felt as if the world was transformed from a drab, dismal grey to a riot of Van Gogh-ian colour. Like someone had turned up the stereo and was blasting Bach at full volume. Oh, he thought. Oh, look at him.
He’d scrubbed up well. Severus had half convinced himself that his infatuation stemmed from some sort of previously unacknowledged bad boy fetish but there in that room of the silk-stockinged haut monde he looked every inch the aristocrat prince that he was and Severus was as enamoured as he had been that first day he saw him. And wasn’t that a bother. His life was a carefully curated construction and Sirius Black seemed intent on being an errant spanner in it.
“That’s your brother-in-law to be, isn’t it?”
Damn. He was hoping they wouldn’t pick him out.
He nodded, yes.
Cissy studied him intently from across the room. “What’s he like then?”
“Oh,” he said. “He’s a bit of a rat bag really. Or so Rach says. I hardly know him.” Mercifully he managed keep his voice steady.
“He certainly is a dish.”
“Dear, you wound me.”
“Not as dishy as you, my love.”
He did sometimes sort of wonder what it would be like to be as hopelessly besotted with one’s partner as Lucius was with Narcissa. He supposed he and Rachel just had something different. They were good together in other ways. It didn’t make them a bad match. He was acutely aware that there were a number of things that were important in a successful marriage and passion was very far down that list indeed.
“You will introduce us won’t you, Sev?”
“Yes, let’s get a good look at this knave who would steal my wife.”
“Oh hush,” his wife admonished.
He made a quick thin-lipped smile. There was no way of getting out of it without calling attention to the fact that he had any particular strong feelings about the man. “Of course.”
And though he may have been imagining it, it appeared to Severus at least that when the man caught sight of him he blanched though Severus could not know whether it was out of pleasure upon seeing him or of disgust. Then Severus smiled politely as he could and the man raised his brow and then he was approaching and Severus felt his heart flutter in his chest like a little hummingbird.
When he opened his mouth he prayed he wouldn’t sound like a love sick school boy. To his ears his voice sounded too breathy as it skirted over his name. Lucius and Narcissa were of course charming and gracious while he stared like a half-brained drooling pervert. What would it be like to press their bodies together? he wondered. To join their mouths? To bury into the base of that neck and breath him in and taste and taste and taste. The fact that he’d probably never know seemed like cruel fate.
He managed to gather a few brain cells together eventually to carry out a conversation and Black enquired after his sister and Severus replied sensibly though when their eyes met it felt heavy and electric.
When Sirius left he turned back, just once, briefly, and their eyes found each other once more. Lightening seemed to crackle. Careful there, Cissy murmured to him, taking his arm to go back inside but he didn’t trust himself to answer.