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Severus had developed an instinct.
Upon seeing Sirius Black in the corridor, he would leave. Immediately. No matter the circumstance. Severus spent a lot of time stumbling upon hidden corridors, shuffling into classrooms late, and otherwise ducking into empty classrooms, in alcoves, and behind statues.
It wasn’t like he was running away. He and Black had traded too many insults, hexes, and bruises for Severus to be scared of confrontation.
But it wasn’t like it was particularly hard to avoid Black. The Gryffindor git was always laughing with Potter and his friends, always being loud and attracting attention. So he always gave Severus ample notice. Often Severus didn’t even need to look up before escaping around the nearest corner.
And Black was big now. He took up space. All muscle and mass, the product of several seasons flying around and smashing things with his bat or whatever Quidditch players did as an excuse to stuff their faces in the Great Hall and act like everyone wanted nothing more than to kiss their broomstick. It was repulsive to watch. Severus supposed being an oaf was a requirement to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team — Beater, no less. Sometimes he’d catch Black sauntering around in his Quidditch robes, swinging his stick around like a goon. Severus was pretty sure the idiot wasn’t even going to practice. He was just walking around alone, hoping for attention. The worst part was that girls would unfailingly giggle at him when they passed by.
The only thing out of place on that team of brutes was Black’s stupidly handsome, almost refined mug — that rich boy face, with its jawline and dark brows and easy grin, the amused look that flickered in his eyes whenever he saw Severus, skittering around in the shadows, clutching his battered books, bony body enveloped in secondhand robes.
Black was everything Severus hated. A pompous Gryffindor who thought everybody was as obsessed with him as he was with himself.
Severus hated himself even more. For noticing everything about Black. For feeling strangely anxious before a Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch game, which he told himself he only attended to see Gryffindor utterly obliterated. The freedom to ogle, to let his eyes linger on a certain scarlet-robed player, was only a bonus.
Severus should’ve known better than to let himself get distracted by that kind of thing — a handsome face, a fit body. Like every other giggly girl at Hogwarts.
What was worse was Severus was sure none of the giggly girls fantasized about getting cornered, taunted, or brought to their knees in a hidden closet. He was extra, extra sure that Black had his pick of the lot when it came to bringing people to closets, and Severus was dead last on his list.
If he were to be honest with himself — and he refused to — Severus would admit that he didn’t want to think about the desperate jolt in his chest whenever he looked at Black. So he simply evaded the problem.
___________________
Sirius had been seeing a lot less of Snape lately.
Snape had always been a scrawny thing, with a mean, defensive glower painted on his face, behind that big nose of his. Hackles perpetually raised. But he’d never been afraid to spit something nasty at James and Sirius, itching to turn it into a wandfight, or curl his lip at the two whenever they chose to do something completely innocuous, like flirt with girls who wouldn’t touch Snivellus in a billion years.
Now, though, it seemed like Snape vanished at the very sight of Sirius. Sirius could’ve sworn that once on the way to Charms, Snape met his gaze by accident, turned red — with disgust, no doubt — and ducked into a corridor that led to a dead end. Not even pausing to sneer.
It was unfortunate, because picking fights with Snape had been one of Sirius’ favorite and only pastimes for the past six years.
Once, hidden behind a shelf in the library — which he usually never frequented — Sirius was able to catch Snape at ease. The Slytherin was still as pale and skinny as ever, but he’d sort of grown into it. Strands of sleek, raven-black hair fell against his pale cheek and beaky nose, hovering inches from his parchment as he furiously scrawled out an essay. Snape had an odd collection of features, yet together they looked striking. Elegant, almost. One had to keep looking to figure out what it was about him, and yet it was impossible to figure out. Sirius thought it was sinister, honestly.
It was altogether too suspicious for Sirius not to become inexplicably obsessed with Snape. He wanted to catch Snivellus acting strange. He’d corner Snape before he could run away, pin down his bony shoulders, and demand to know what the loser was up to.
Maybe Snape had finally realized that the Dark spells he scribbled in his potions book were no match for Sirius, who had about fifty pounds on him, and all muscle at that. Or Snape was busy joining a Dark Arts cult with the rest of the scummy Slytherins or nosing up to Professor Slughorn. Or, as innocent as it sounded, studying for the N.E.W.T.s a bajillion months in advance. Somehow none of these conjectures assuaged Sirius’ curiosity, except the one where Snape was secretly brewing an advanced poison to spike Sirius’ pumpkin juice with next month. At least that would make some sense.
Once, lounging in the Gryffindor common room, Sirius even asked James if he had noticed Snape acting strange. But James was too busy hooking up with Lily — who had very recently discovered a modicum of tolerance for James — to care much about it all. James had straightened out, Sirius guessed. Moved past his days of obsessively tormenting Snivellus at every chance. It bummed Sirius out. Like James was leaving Sirius behind. For a girl.
Sirius should’ve been having the time of his life. He was an upperclassman, Beater on the team captained by his best friend, fit, charming, funny. Girls would whisper and smile when they passed him, come up to him after Quidditch matches to ask if he was going to Hogsmeade with anyone in two weeks. So why was he so hung up on getting Snivellus to acknowledge his existence?
___________________
The problem became impossible to evade when Black started actively hunting for Severus.
The first time, Severus had entered the abandoned classroom because he thought he heard Black approaching from the other end of the corridor. Spacious and dim, desks and chairs were pushed to the sides of the room, with a huge dusty mirror leaning tipped against the far wall.
Looking back on it, he should’ve sensed the presence of a powerful magical object like that. But he’d been so weak. For ages.
So he approached unthinkingly, wincing mentally at his reflection. He usually avoided mirrors. Then Severus saw a figure behind him, hazy, like magic. But a movement, and the handsome features focused sharply.
He whipped around and sneered. “Black.”
God, Severus had managed to last weeks without landing himself in the unfortunate position of being five feet away from Black, and yet, somehow, he had walked right into this. Severus reached for his wand. His heart was already pumping fast.
For some reason, Black was smiling. His smile wasn’t the jeering one he’d wear when he or Potter would call out Snivellus, planning to throw jinxes once Severus turned his back. It was a rare kind, the kind he’d look at his friends with when James turned to speak to Remus or Peter. It was just too nice to believe.
“Snape,” Black said brightly, coming closer with that easy stride of his. “You’re here.”
“If you followed me in here just now, I will hex you,” Severus hissed. “Leave me alone.”
Black just laughed, that infuriatingly casual laugh that slipped so easily from him all the time, animating his stupidly handsome face. “Snape,” he said. “I know how you feel about me.”
For a terrifying moment, Severus thought Black was making some reference to the complicated attraction that’d been brewing in Severus’ gut, but that would be impossible.
“How perceptive,” Severus said through gritted teeth. “I hate you. So get away from me, or I will hex you.”
“Don’t say that,” Black murmured. He was coming even closer. He towered over Severus. But he didn’t make any effort to take out his wand, only looking expectantly at Severus with those flickering brown eyes.
It was too risky to stay. Severus shot a Stinging Hex straight at Black’s chest and dashed out the door without looking back. Thinking about it later that day, the only explanation for Black’s sudden air of innocent sincerity was that he had been Confounded to think Severus was his best friend, and he wanted to braid each other’s hair and pluck daisies together at the Quidditch pitch.
___________________
Black didn’t seem the worse for wear when Severus next saw him on the way to class, so he resolved to continue his campaign of avoidance.
It just didn’t help that he was having dreams. Stupid recurring dreams, returning him to that abandoned classroom. But Black was close, much closer than he’d been in real life, his face just inches away from Severus’. “I know how you feel about me,” he threatened again, pushing Severus against the wall.
But Severus, in the dream, was paralyzed. He couldn’t do anything when Black wrapped his muscular arms around Severus and smiled devilishly, right before kissing him.
As if he had lost all remaining shreds of rationality, Severus would gasp and strain to press his body against Black, but it was always too incorporeal to satisfy him. That was how dreams always went, wasn’t it?
It was pathetic. Severus wouldn’t even accept it as a weird sex fantasy to enjoy in the privacy of his mind. He was sickened by how happy he felt in the dream, like he and Black were lovers, which was completely out of the realm of imaginable possibilities. He had to banish these thoughts entirely, or risk becoming even sicker and more pathetic than he already felt.
Banishing the thoughts was exactly what Severus was trying to do when he was ambushed for the second time. He was rummaging through Professor Slughorn’s storeroom, looking to concoct an altered Potion for Dreamless Sleep. The draught was usually administered to people having nightmares after some personal tragedy or the like, but the relentless intensity of Severus’ suffering had to qualify.
His nightmare materialized before he even had a chance.
Somehow Black had appeared at his shoulder, silent, filling the dank air of the storeroom with his warmth. “Severus,” he said, his breathing audible. “Found you.”
To hear his first name from Black’s mouth was such a shocking experience that he didn’t even realize Black’s arms were encircling him, keeping him trapped against the shelves, before he could repeat the hex from last time.
Black looked unrealistically handsome. It was unfair, really. Severus’ vision felt strange and blurry.
“Stay still,” Black said in a voice softer than he’d ever used with Severus before. “I want to do something.”
Stunned by the sheer strangeness of the situation (or that’s what he told himself later), Severus obeyed.
Black was smiling again when he kissed Severus, yanking out the feeling that Severus had tried to bury deep down, filling his insides with a nervous pulsing shock. This Black was warm, solid, tangible. He kissed Severus like he couldn’t possibly imagine doing anything else, like he’d never sniggered Snivellus or flicked hexes at him or “accidentally” elbowed him right into a faceful of wall. Black sighed without pulling away and his hot breath warmed Severus’ mouth, his hand resting on Severus’ hip.
Glass bottles clattered to the floor as Severus’ head leaned against the shelf, snapping him back to his senses.
Unfortunately, it really wasn’t a dream this time.
Thirty seconds later, Severus was hurrying out of the potions wing, refusing to wait for Black. The ingredients had all been hastily returned to the wrong places.
To think he was about to let Black do whatever he wanted, just because he caught Severus by surprise and called him by his first name. Somehow even a big moron like that could sneak up on you. It was terrifying. Severus would have to be on high alert from now on. And the bigger the problem got, the less he could think about it.
Push it back down and run away.
___________________
It was undeniable. Snape had been avoiding Sirius for weeks, and Sirius couldn’t figure out what Snape was up to, but he could tell that Snape was getting increasingly jittery. The hook-nosed freak looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown every time Sirius spotted him. Snape never lost his composure like this. He was nine times out of ten sour-faced or angry, but not weak.
Snape nearly jumped out of his robes when Sirius happened upon him at the Owlery, intending to mail a thank-you letter to James’ parents for their start-of-term care package.
They froze, eyes locked. It smelled like owl droppings and musty parcel paper.
All intentions of mailing anything left Sirius’ mind. Snape was poised to scowl and stalk out, and Sirius had to stop him before that could happen — before he missed out on the opportunity to finally corner Snape the way he wanted to.
But Snape didn’t scowl. He blushed and looked down, ivory cheeks burning. He tried to counteract the blush with his eyebrows, which were knit in a kind of half-scowl, half-pout. It was almost cute, like he was trying to look intimidating, but didn’t know whether to be cross or embarrassed.
It was the kind of expression that could mean a lot of things.
Fuck. Snivellus, almost cute? Sirius had caught Snape’s crazy.
It wasn’t like Sirius could ask Snape how he was doing lately, if he’d run into any banshees in the night or overdosed on Essence of Insanity, as much as Sirius wanted to know — desperately so. There was just one course of action. The same thing Sirius had always done with Snivellus, the only thing he could do ever since they embarked on this journey of mutual loathing, when Sirius first saw Snape’s odd face and old beat-up things and was seized by the urge to provoke him. To unsettle and trap and overpower him.
“Alright, Snivellus?” Sirius said, in the breezy tone that always threw Snape on his guard. “You look like you saw a girl starkers for the first time in your life. Or did you scare yourself in the mirror again?”
Snape’s expression changed at once, and Sirius almost regretted speaking. The familiar icy rancor settled once more over Snape’s face like a mask.
Any other time Snape would’ve shot something scathing back. But he remained silent, his small angular body hunched in tight on itself as he shoved past Sirius and out the door.
Sirius felt dizzy with the sudden loss. It was in his hands, and he had snapped it in half like a dog snapping its jaws on a bird. The only way he knew how to be.
Ruined his chance, just like that.
There was something else in Snape’s reaction, Sirius thought. Confusion, but more complex — vulnerability, almost. Snape had expected something from Sirius, and he didn’t get it. What had Sirius said? Wasn’t that how they had always talked to each other?
___________________
Severus was beyond the point of confusion. He had gone fully insane.
The longest sentence Black had spoken to him since pushing him against the wall and kissing him until he couldn’t think, and it was back to the usual moronic insults. The worst thing was that Severus had nothing to say — could do nothing but run away, right in front of Black’s face, after getting his hopes up like he was desperate for Black to take him right there on the dirty Owlery floor. It was written all over his face, wasn’t it? Humiliating.
There had to be some powerful Dark magic at work. Severus spent several days sulking in bed. God, how pathetic was he? Thinking Black still wanted to kiss and touch him after getting a taste. Thinking Black wanted him.
Black had only ever been one thing: a bully. Severus knew that. So why had he believed him, just because he smiled and looked handsome a few times?
It wasn’t long before Black managed to appear again in a random corridor with the sweet smile on, as if he were signaling to Severus: The nice Black is back. Come here, if you beg, I’ll kiss your ugly face till it falls off.
Severus wouldn’t fall for that again. The first time post-Owlery incident that he found himself trapped with Black in a dark corner, Severus pushed him away with all the force his arms possessed, wishing he were stronger, and nearly spit at him. But Black was infuriatingly placid and persistent.
The next time, when Black put his arms around Severus and tucked his face in his neck, tickling him with his thick wavy hair, Severus really did try to push him away. But — certainly because of some kind of Dark magic and not because of Black’s incredible arms — he felt sapped of his strength. He let Black put his mouth all over his neck, trying to stay composed, to do anything but let out the whimpers building in his throat. At the least, he kept Black’s wandering hands strictly over his robes.
Black never explained that day in the Owlery. He would say all manner of things in the rare moments his mouth wasn’t occupied, but his lexicon was astonishingly single-minded. It was an assault on Severus’ nerves, and other body parts besides. “I know you want me,” he’d murmur. “Come here,” “stay still,” “kiss me,” “yes,” “good.” “Do you like that?” “Should I keep going?” “Snape.” “Snape...” Occasionally, “Severus…”
Severus wasn’t stupid, but he was weak. He suspected something was going on with Black’s hot-and-cold behavior, but he always happened to be caught and kissed senseless before he could begin to interrogate Black, which didn’t seem to matter much after all.
Sometimes, when he was really caught up in the heat of things, Severus felt like he’d be willing to give up everything. Everything, if Black would just keep kissing him in alcoves and dusty classrooms, untangling nothing of their past, caring only about pressing their bodies as close together as possible. Severus would drop the defenses he’d carried around for six years, drop the scowl and the insults, tell Black anything he wanted to hear, say ridiculously sweet things back to him. Tell him the truth, the whole truth. Get on his knees and expose his vulnerabilities. Confess that he’d been running away on purpose, that he was afraid of the things he felt when he saw Black.
Black had already invaded his every waking thought. Severus knew it wouldn’t be long until he gave in. Completely.
___________________
It was a bright and sunny Sunday when Sirius finally discovered why Snape had been acting so weird.
It wasn’t like Sirius was following Snape on purpose. He was already headed that way, and he had the moment to spare when he spotted Snape’s dark frame turning the corner.
Just because Sirius had thought about Snape’s strange expression in the Owlery every day since it happened didn’t mean he was obsessed with Snape. Snape’s behavior was a curiosity, that was all. It meant that he was up to no good. Sirius had already resolved not to feel sorry for Snivellus. That twinge of regret was just a fluke. Snape hadn’t really expected anything from Sirius, and if he had, he was a fool.
Sirius more the fool for expecting something of Snape.
The alcove that Sirius followed Snape to was mired in shadows. At first he thought the taller, larger boy with his back turned to Sirius was trying to threaten Snape, or beat him up.
Then Snape let out a little moaning sound. Sirius’ heart jolted.
Sirius’ face burned as he turned on his heel and left, unable to process what he had just witnessed.
___________________
Reality had fallen apart.
Snape — beak-nosed limp-haired twig-limbed Snape — hooking up with a bloke was not a possibility Sirius had imagined, ever. It wasn’t that Sirius was against that sort of thing — of course not — it was just the fact that it was Snape. Snape was just too odd-looking and prickly to imagine anyone breaking through his armor and getting him to make a noise like that.
Sirius hadn’t seen the face of the person kissing Snape, but when he thought about the possibility that it was some Slytherin goon, his stomach twisted for reasons he refused to unpack. Honestly, the mystery snogger looked a lot like Sirius himself. Dark hair, same build. Big and strong enough to take Snivellus in his arms and do whatever he wanted with him.
It was just weird, was all.
If Sirius’ imagination started to fill in what he hadn’t witnessed of the lovebirds, it was only natural. The Sirius-lookalike might have put his hands all over Snape, slipped his big palms under Snape’s robes and passed them all over that bony white chest until Snape was trembling. He might’ve pulled Snape’s collar to the side, put his mouth on the delicate skin and sucked until red bruises bloomed. And Snape might’ve just let him.
They wouldn’t have gone further, would they? Not in the corridor like that, where anyone could walk in on them? Where Sirius could walk in on them?
Sirius shot up. It was ridiculous. Why did it matter what kind of bewitched nutter found Snivellus attractive enough to paw at? It wasn’t like Sirius didn’t have his own legion of girls practically throwing themselves at his feet. Which, now that he thought about it, he had neglected to enjoy during this entire Snivellus obsession. The Snivellus mystery was solved, and that was it. Snape was gay; that was his big secret.
During a free period, Sirius decided to take his mind off things by looking for one of his admirers. A little flirting, maybe a snogging session would set him right.
The random Hufflepuff blessed with his attention, however, turned out to be a bit overzealous — wet, honestly — with the kissing. Or maybe Sirius just couldn’t get his mind off the anomaly he had seen, and it was interfering with the experience. Breaking things off, he made up an excuse about going to class, ducked into a random hallway, and then slipped into an abandoned classroom for good measure.
The disused classroom looked like any other, left to grow dust, except for the massive ornate mirror leaning against the wall. Sirius had never seen it before. He could’ve sworn he saw it sparkle, right behind the ear of Sirius’ reflection. It looked so fancy, in fact, that Sirius didn’t notice Snape in a corner of the classroom.
Waiting for his snogging partner, no doubt. Why did Sirius feel like shit at the thought?
Sirius was flustered, and sorry, and — Merlin knew why — nervous. “Shit, didn’t see you,” he scrambled to say, making a motion to leave. Secretly not wanting to.
“Don’t leave,” Snape said quietly. Suddenly a thousand of Sirius’ fantasies burst into color behind his eyes.
Never had he heard Snape sound like that.
“What?”
“Come here, Black.” Snape’s expression was unreadable, his dark eyes mesmerizing. God, Sirius could see what made the mystery alcove person want to just grab Snape and kiss him until his icy exterior melted into helpless whimpering. If Sirius had only known that side of Snivellus existed. He probably would’ve lost his mind much, much earlier.
Agreeing to approach Snape was a fully conscious gesture of apology. Sirius didn’t even keep his hand on his wand. He was distracted, yes — okay, entranced, really — but he did feel bad for Snape, all lonely-looking under the dimming streaks of light. It was fine if Snape hexed him, it would’ve served him right anyway…if he could just get a little closer…
Their chests were nearly touching now. Could Snape feel Sirius’ pounding heart?
Snape lifted his chin, black eyes searching Sirius’, and he reached his slender arms up until they circled Sirius’ neck. Snape’s gaze dropped downward, to Sirius’ lips. Sirius stopped breathing.
___________________
Given the recklessly foolish nature of his encounters with Black, which robbed him of any spatial awareness, Severus should’ve known they’d be walked in on eventually. He was pinned for the ninth or tenth time in a dark alcove, absorbed in kissing Black, when he heard a squeak. Looking up, he saw a Hufflepuff girl standing twenty feet away with her hands clasped over her mouth.
She scampered before Severus could think of what to do.
“We’ve been seen,” he whisper-shouted at Black. “Stop it — stop, idiot — we’ve been seen!”
“That’s okay,” murmured Black in a pleasant sort of daze. “Let’s just keep doing what we were doing.”
Black might be a brainless imbecile, but Severus was not, no matter how much he wanted to comply with Black’s suggestion. Severus freed himself from Black’s grip and ran away. Like he always did.
___________________
“Padfoot,” James said pleasantly as they lay in their dormitory later that week, right before going to bed, “What’s this I hear about you and Snape?”
Sirius had never felt such fear.
“Prongs,” he replied smoothly, hoping, to dear Merlin, that his voice wasn’t shaking, “What is it you heard?”
“Georgiana Puddlesworth has been going around saying she saw you and Snivellus snogging passionately, that’s all.”
Sirius almost fell off the bed.
___________________
Three entire days later, Sirius grabbed Snape by the arm as the latter was on his way out of the Potions classroom. He wasn’t quite thinking straight. Could he have been? He was well and truly desperate. Snape was slippery as a salamander these days, and the latest rumor had not helped.
Sirius was almost certain that nobody saw him kissing Snape in that unused classroom. But he was so dazed in that moment that some girl probably could have opened the door, taken a good, long look, and proceeded calmly down to the nexus of gossip that was the Hufflepuff common room.
On second thought, though, he knew Snape was also hooking up with another bloke. Possibly several, who knew. It couldn’t have been serious, that kiss with Sirius in the abandoned classroom.
Not serious at all.
And upon interrogating James about the hilarious and absolutely fabricated story spreading through Hogwarts like Fiendfyre, James had mentioned a crucial detail: that the lovers were in an alcove in a corridor, not in an abandoned classroom. Much like Snape and mystery alcove man — who Sirius had begun to hate more and more — liked to do. So it really wasn’t Sirius who had been seen. Just his stupid, stupid lookalike.
Snape hated Sirius, so he would surely confess the identity of his favored snogging partner in order to clear the air. Therefore, Sirius had to talk to Snape. To clear Sirius’ name.
Never mind that Sirius was starting to daydream about punching the other git in the face, telling him to shove off, and taking Snivellus all for himself.
But more urgent matters were at hand. Once Sirius had dragged Snape to a hidden corner, he questioned, “Have you heard what everyone’s saying? About us, I mean?”
Snape blanched, but recovered swiftly. “You imbecile,” he seethed. “Why, for the love of Merlin, would you grab me in front of the entire Slytherin class if you want to preserve any chance of dispelling this rumor?”
God, Sirius truly had started to think Snape was beautiful, the fury mixed with fear flashing in his black eyes. He felt almost sappy about the fact that they were in such a mess together.
“Yes. Right…let’s just sort this out,” Sirius said. “I don’t know if he’s your boyfriend or whatever, but just tell your friends the truth. It’ll get around. They didn’t see me and you in the classroom that day, they saw you and him. Trust me, I think they saw you with that other…er…bloke who was with you.” Just mentioning the prat made him want to throw something against the wall. “Who is he?” He tried to sound lighthearted, like it was the add-on question instead of the one that’d been consuming him since he saw the two entwined in that alcove.
Snape oddly had nothing to say to this, so Sirius continued, somehow feeling like he had sprouted three heads and started speaking in tongues.
“Look, everyone knows you’re gay by now, Snape, that’s past fixing. But the other thing is it’s a case of mistaken identity — for me. If you’d just tell people…I guess — I’ll stop bothering you, if you want me to.”
Snape just blinked at him with his unreadably inky eyes.
“Unless you don’t want me to.” Sirius tried to make it sound like a joke, even though wild thoughts were storming through his mind. Snape putting his arms around him and pulling him down and kissing him again, telling Sirius that he was the only one, there was no one else, they could let the rumor run rampant, everything was true, after all. Their kiss had been all-consuming, and it left an insatiable hole burning through Sirius’ chest. How could he ever be satisfied, now?
There it appeared, again. The look of profound confusion, mixed with hurt, vulnerability, betrayal, before the icy glare settled over everything.
Just like every other time Sirius had fucked things up with Snape.
Snape shook his head — what did he mean? — and left Sirius standing alone in the corner.
What the fuck had he said? He felt like the world’s biggest git.
___________________
In retrospect, it would’ve changed everything if literally any member of the Hogwarts staff had bothered to check regularly, even occasionally, the incredibly significant magical object stored in the readily accessible empty classroom. As they didn’t, Severus and Sirius were weeks deep into their crisis of kissing and alcoves and fantasies and feelings before everything, at last, became clear.
Sirius was trying to laugh at James, Remus, and Peter’s banter as they filed into the Great Hall, and failing miserably as his head was still buzzing with thoughts of Snape. Snape kissing him, Snape glaring at him, Snape hitting him, Snape saying nothing and looking hurt and leaving him, which felt a thousand times worse than any of their wand-and-fist fights.
He couldn’t stop glancing over at the Slytherin table. Looking for that dark, bowed head and pair of sharp shoulders.
Once everyone was seated, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up. “An announcement,” he declared, tone somewhat more somber than usual.
“It has come to our attention that a powerful magical object stored in the castle has gained a new ability, which it will surely use to bewitch, enchant, and befuddle as many young minds as it can.”
The Hall snapped to attention.
“This object is called the Mirror of Erised, and since it has adopted a new method of doing its work, I find it pertinent to share the nature of this object.
Looking in the Mirror typically reveals to viewers their deepest, truest desire. As of today, the Mirror itself has been made inaccessible to students. But it seems the Mirror has been able to send a human-like form amongst you, reflective of your deepest desires. Sensing that many of you are in the spring of your youth, this being surely finds it exhilarating to appear in the form of your beloved or — even — the one you most desire, unbeknownst to you.
I advise you all to remain in pairs, refrain from entering empty corridors, and ask questions to verify each other’s identities until this being is safely contained. Please do not allow yourself to be alone with or engage in, say, intimate matters with those who seem suspicious to you.”
The Hall broke into chatter, and more than a few students burst into giggles, glancing, surely, at the ones they most desired. One Ravenclaw raised her hand.
“What does the mirror person do, if we interact with it? Can it hurt us?”
Dumbledore looked at her over his spectacles. “It is relatively harmless, if you keep in mind the understanding that it is merely showing you what you most desire, and not a real person.
But this is a difficult task for any mature witch or wizard, and I would not expect students to possess the detached rationality necessary to resist the allure of the mirror. Many resilient minds have been driven mad by the Mirror of Erised, and I suspect its corporeal envoy possesses even greater seductive power.”
Giggling filled the Hall again.
“In summary, I must warn you that it is far more dangerous than it appears,” Dumbledore concluded serenely. “Now, supper awaits…”
James was laughing and Remus looked solemn if a little bit intrigued, but Sirius felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t need the warning.
Not at all.
He knew quite well what the Mirror was capable of.
___________________
So that was the joke of his life. Severus had been snogging some kind of Mirror entity for weeks, and it all served to prove that Severus had — since the start — been suppressing big, fat, hopeless feelings for his worst enemy. His childhood bully: the one he most desired.
Deep inside, he’d always been begging for Black to push him against the wall and kiss him all over until his legs felt as weak as his resolve. It was probably Black’s careless cruelty, the way that everything seemed to fall right into his pretty-boy-Quidditch-star lap, that turned Severus on in the first place. Like Severus secretly wanted to stop resisting. To swoon right at Black’s feet and gaze up at his disgustingly handsome face with adoration. To be completely dominated by the jerk and forced to do anything Black wanted.
From the bewildering confrontation of the other day, it was clear that Black had stumbled on Severus together with a man. If his thick skull had any give, given the rumors about them and Dumbledore’s announcement, Black would eventually realize that the other man was Black himself. Mirror-Black, that is.
Black would then know that poor old Snivellus was desperate to get all over Black, had in fact been using a fantasy Black to get himself off for weeks.
After Dumbledore’s world-ending news, Severus sped to his dormitory, curled up in his bed, and actively wished that he didn’t exist with such concentration that it occurred to him he could perhaps trigger some wandless magic, which would be welcome. After an hour of panic and despair, however, Severus supposed the two things Black could plausibly do to him next were either beat him up or pretend he didn’t exist. Either, he told himself, would be fine.
Why, then, did it hurt so much?
To be such a fool.
To miss Black, even though it had all been fake. Smiling, coming near, pressing his warm lips to his.
___________________
It was unsettling to spot himself down the corridor. He instinctually whipped his wand out to immobilize the Mirror-Severus before he realized.
Black was in the middle of talking to Mirror-Severus. He looked…crazed. His hand gripped the arm of Mirror-Severus, as if he were afraid that the skinny thing would slip out from his grasp.
Severus watched, unnoticed.
Mirror-Severus had a hard look on his face, that look that Severus wore everyday, but had never seen from an outside perspective. He didn’t get to observe for long. Mirror-Severus’ expression softened in the middle of Black’s frenzied interrogation. He was probably calling Severus a perverted freak who had violated Black’s dignity. Well, it wasn’t like Severus knew that during the events. From his perspective, Black was the one who had violated his dignity.
Severus would’ve laughed at the thought if it weren’t so pathetically embarrassing. Considering that even now, watching Black crowd in Mirror-Severus with his body, envy coursed through Severus. He ached to be that mindless thing, held fast in Black’s grip, not caring whether the idiot wound up punching or kissing him.
Mirror-Severus smiled. It was a strange and gentle smile, probably the only one Black had ever gotten from Severus. Black’s speech faltered.
Then Mirror-Severus leaned his head on Black’s chest before pulling him down for a kiss.
Severus was flooded with both desire and jealousy.
In realization, Black pushed Mirror-Severus away before their lips could meet. He looked flushed.
Severus had his realization at the exact same moment. If the Mirror being appeared as Severus in front of Black…then…
Black moved away, out of the Mirror-Severus’ reach, and his eyes met Severus’. The real Severus.
___________________
He had spent all semester running away from Black, and he was tired of it. Perhaps that’s why he let himself get caught.
___________________
Sirius almost crashed into Snape, the pale boy looking like an apparition that would vanish, at a single touch, into the shadows. Please be real, Sirius thought desperately. Please. This time. The wall broke his sprint; his palms slammed into stone and stung. But Snape was in his grasp, within the confinement of his desperate, useless arms. That was all that mattered.
“It’s the real you,” Sirius panted, eyes roaming Snape’s strange-looking face like it was something exquisite and precious. “Snape. Severus.”
He let his head fall onto Severus’ shoulder. It was heavy. “Tell me you’re real,” he said. “I’ve been going crazy.”
It wasn’t the first time Severus heard his name from Black’s mouth, and yet his heart throbbed, so slow and painful that he thought it might burst on the spot. “Are you?” Severus whispered back. Even though the weight of Black’s head on his shoulder, Black’s sweat gleaming under candlelight, his hair brushing Severus’ cheek, the desperation in his voice, the charged longing in Severus’ chest — everything Severus didn’t know he’d only possessed a shadow of, before this moment — told him the answer.
“Yes,” Sirius said, and huffed out a broken laugh. “You saw me with the mirror thing. It was you, for me.”
Severus fixed his gaze on the ground, unable to speak. The thought of looking into Sirius’ handsome face — the real one — was too mortifying. And the warmth of Sirius’ embrace, knowing it was real this time, made his entire body tremble.
Just stay like this, don’t let me leave, he begged in his mind. Even if this will never happen again.
“Was it me, for you?” Sirius breathed against Severus’ ear. It sounded like a plea. “I saw you with someone. One time. Was it me?”
Severus tried to nod, out of some misguided hope that maybe Sirius would react well and maybe kiss him like he had done in Severus’ dreams, but the muscles in Severus’ neck refused to obey. It didn’t matter; apparently, Sirius didn’t need confirmation to keep talking. He was that handsome, after all, how could anyone not want him?
“Tell me what he did to you. Snape.”
Sirius moved one hand to Severus’ back, his palm stroking up and down, and Severus squeezed his eyes tightly. God, it felt better than it had ever felt with the Mirror-Black, and yet Severus felt like he was on the brink of shattering, held together only by the arms encircling him, refusing to let him go. The way Sirius touched him was more frantic, more insistent than the other, like he was simultaneously trying to feel every inch of Severus’ body and keep it from moving away. Like he was as desperate as Severus had felt, for weeks and weeks.
Here it was. Severus was finally confronting the things he had refused to, back when he’d see a flash of Black’s face or hear his laugh and dash for the nearest hiding spot. Confronting it, just to fall apart.
“It was just kissing,” Severus said in a parchment-thin voice, unable to focus on anything but the quiet, bare truth. “But it wasn’t real.”
Sirius made an anguished noise. “Sev…I was so jealous of him I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t really care about the rumor — I’m sorry for — that time I hurt you…they could’ve said anything about us, I just wanted it to be me.”
Could it be…what was Black saying? It was hard to think, hot breath and roaming hands on all sides.
Sirius laughed again, and again it was a broken sound. “And now you’re saying it was me?”
“Let me do to you,” Sirius insisted, “what he did to you.”
Severus was far too fragile to believe him so readily. “You wouldn’t want me.”
Sirius moved his head back, slightly, to look into Severus’ eyes. He rested his forehead on Severus’, gaze too piercing to bear. “Let me kiss you, Snape. I promise I’ll make it better for you than he did.”
Severus could only jerk his chin in assent. Any more and he would die. His chest was thrumming so hard he could hear his pulse crashing in his ears.
Real. It was all much too real.
And Sirius’ mouth was on Severus’, pressing, deep, insistent, pulling him into a kiss that would never free him. Sirius had always wanted to dominate Severus, and now that he had him, it was too much to hold. Sirius’ mouth moved feverishly — over Severus’ jaw, neck, chest — and Severus let out a long, keening sigh.
It was over. Everything of him had been exposed, and there was nothing of his dignity left to protect. Sirius possessed him entirely, had always possessed him.
From now on, Severus thought without thinking, Sirius could just give him a look and he’d follow him around like a dog. He’d stand there, in any musty dark corner of the castle, and take whatever Sirius had to give him, just trying to stop himself from falling to the ground and begging Sirius to touch him more, more. Sirius could insult him, hex him, beat him up and call him a freak, and it would all be great. Just great.
Sirius wanted, it seemed, more than a kiss. His hands were slipping under Severus’ robes. Somehow the buttons had come undone. Severus shivered as Sirius’ rough palms warmed him, exploring the angles of his bony body like it was a treasure map, as if Sirius could strike gold just by finding the right spot.
Sirius put his mouth to Severus’ ear again. “Let me,” was all he said as his hand moved lower. The heat, wrapping around Severus’ hard cock, sending a pulsing electric thrum straight through him. A new sensation, this one. One Severus didn’t know how he managed to resist for so long, all those times trapped in the arms of Mirror-Black.
He was glad, though, that he’d endured.
“Tell me if he did this to you, too,” Sirius said, hand stroking back and forth.
Severus whimpered against Sirius’ mouth in reply. “No,” he said, hands flying up to clutch Sirius’ hips, the fabric of his robes, anything to keep him tethered to this earth. “Not this.”
“Severus,” Sirius said, deciding this was the moment to elicit the humiliating truth, as if Severus’ brain wasn’t a pile of mush, and he wasn’t in his most desperate and vulnerable form. “Tell me you want me.”
Severus would do anything as long as Sirius didn’t stop. Wasn’t that already clear?
“Say it to me,” Sirius repeated, his voice low.
Severus pulled himself together into a semblance of his old self. “Yes — stupid — I want you,” he huffed out.
“Good,” Sirius sighed, and kissed Severus again, slowly and searingly. The things Severus would do for a kiss like that, no matter how many he’d already gotten. “I wanted you too. This whole time.”
“Fuck,” Severus gasped. “I can’t—” Severus was weak, he had always been so, so weak for Sirius, and he couldn’t help but hug Sirius’ broad chest with his remaining strength as the hand moved without stopping, and the thrum of desire surged in his cock, and he came into his trousers, whimpering into Sirius’ open mouth, which had somehow leaned down again to kiss, and kiss, and kiss him.
He kept his eyes closed for a long time, praying that Sirius would still be there when he opened them. Even though Sirius was cupping Severus’ head and stroking his hair and kissing his forehead the whole time. “God, Sev,” Sirius mumbled. “I’m crazy about you.”
Severus finally looked at him, and his gaze was so tender in that moment that Severus needed to look away.
“What does this mean?” Severus whispered, after another agonizing moment.
“I want you, and you want me,” Sirius said, like the statement was one that could do anything, break down any door, dissolve all the humiliating misunderstandings and outright hostility and secret agony and leave them in the past.
He pulled Severus closer by the waist. “I’m sorry it took so long, and that I was such a piece of shit. That day in the Owlery — too — I know. Just stop running away from me. I’ve been obsessed with you. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, Sev.”
Severus dared to release his breath. “Okay,” he yielded.
He couldn’t stop his hands from roaming over Black’s torso with a wondrous newfound freedom. Sirius closed his eyes, releasing a soft groan of pleasure.
“Black,” Severus said, “This is real?”
One last time, he had to ask.
“Severus,” Sirius said. “I’ll show you that it’s real.”
And Sirius did.