Chapter Text
It’s a scenario from his worst nightmare.
Alone with Sirius Black in a narrow, barely lit alley. For a second, Severus is convinced he is in a nightmare, and he’ll wake up any moment now.
He doesn’t.
“Well, well, well,” Black drawls, and Severus takes out his wand, but his feet refuse to move, stuck in place. There’s no magic involved. Severus just can’t walk away. His life would have been much easier if he could have walked away from Black and his friends. “What brings you here, Snivellus?”
He’s leaning on a vandalised wall- Black probably vandalised it himself- all sorts of obscene signs drawn over it.
Severus can’t make out his face, but he doesn’t need to see his face to know this is Black, even before he spoke with that unmistakable posh accent of his.
“What brings you here?” Severus asks, with bravery he doesn’t feel. Avery keeps telling him he’s too proud for his own good, and he might have a point. “And where are your minions?”
The wise thing is to leave. Now. Two minutes ago would have been even better. It’s been some time since the self-styled Marauders had gone out of their way to make Severus’ days a living hell.
Ever since Lily got together with Potter.
Don’t think about it.
For whatever reason, they kept their distance, and Severus shouldn’t bait Black now. He should just walk away.
Black lights a fag. The brief fire from the wand illuminates his face, and Severus gets a glimpse of his eyes-
Drunk. He’s drunk.
Rumour has it, Black often Apparates away from Hogsmeade on weekends, ever since he got his license.
If those rumours had been about a Slytherin, Dumbledore would have investigated more closely. As it is, with his pet lions, nothing ever came of it.
Black takes a drag, traps the smoke in his chest and holds it there for some seconds before releasing it.
“No point in asking why you are alone, Snivellus.” He takes another drag. “Who would want to be seen with you in public?”
Don’t, he tells himself when the fingers holding his wand twitch. Just walk away.
Provoking Black is a terrible idea. Provoking drunk Black is downright suicidal.
Everyone in the castle says Black gets violent when he’s in his cups. It made Severus roll his eyes- Black is always violent, but he supposes for people not Severus, that wouldn’t be as obvious, not when the bastard has the charm and the face and the wealth to seem civilised when sober.
He tried to have me killed, Severus remembers. It always startles him to think about it. To think Black actually wanted him dead- not just an abstract wish in the way Severus wishes the Marauders would all drop dead- but in a real, ‘I’m going to make it happen’ way.
Severus backs away slowly.
It’s dark outside; it’s late. Severus should have gone back to the castle with Mulciber and Rosier. He shouldn’t have stayed behind to buy ingredients for a… special potion he’s invented. And especially, he shouldn’t have gone to the far end of Hogsmeade, where he can get them from a man that won’t ask many questions.
“Not so fast.” Black unglues himself from the wall with the grace of a cat. A wild, gigantic cat. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
“Piss off,” Severus says. His hands are sweaty. He still backs off, slowly.
A bark like laughter. “You little coward. You always complain you lose because it’s four to one- well, here’s your chance, you slimy git. Just us.”
Now that he moved, a street lamp in the distance casts its light on Black’s advancing form. His eyes glint with cruelty, more than usual. If not for that glint, Severus would be tempted to give it a go, to duel Black one-on-one and see who’d win in a fair duel.
“You can use the dark magic you are so in love with. I promise I won’t tell.” Black sneers at him, coming even closer. “Come now, you have your wand out already. And I’m so drunk I’m seeing two of you. Take advantage.”
He looks positively unhinged. Black is always cruel, radiating danger, but Severus had only seen that glint in his eyes once.
On a full moon, more than a year before.
He casts a knockback jinx, turns before seeing if it hit the target, and runs.
Judging from the shout, it did hit. Black swears viciously, and Severus is so close to turning the corner that will lead him into a safer street, close to the main one.
Not that it’s populated at this hour, but at least there is a chance a resident could walk by-
Crack.
Black Apparates in front of him, cutting him off. It’s so sudden and unexpected that Severus can’t stop his momentum and he crashes right into him.
It should have sent them both to the ground, and for a second, it seems that is what’s going to happen, but Black is massive, and he regains his footing somehow. One of his big hands curls around Severus’ shoulder, and in the next second, he’s slammed into a wall.
If the universe were fair, Black would have splinched, Apparating while intoxicated, especially as young as he is.
But the universe isn’t fair, and it favours the likes of Black, born in wealth, with a powerful name, in a powerful family, a lineage that spans over a thousand years.
Black is right there, pressing against Severus, far too close to curse at. Severus tries, anyway, but he can’t bring his wand hand between them, and Black catches his wrist and squeezes until Severus is convinced his bones are crushed to dust. His fingers go numb; his wand slips away and horror seizes him.
He trashes, tries to kick at Black with his legs, tries to punch him- he does land a hit, his knuckles grazing Black's jaw, but it doesn’t help much.
Severus is thin, malnourished, and while he’d have wanted to look like a Quidditch player, it isn’t necessary in the magical world, he’d told himself, over and over again.
But it seems it is. Black’s massive form is unmovable, heavy.
Adrenaline makes him feel hot, even if it’s a frosty December night. They struggle furiously, if silently.
Scream, a voice tells him. Scream as loud as you can and maybe someone will hear.
He doesn’t scream. He can’t. The humiliation calling for help would bring him is worse than whatever Black could do to him.
In his panic, he lands another hit, his elbow connecting with Black’s ribs, but in the next second, he’s turned over, and the side of his face connects painfully with the bricks.
It makes his ears ring, white-hot pain shooting through his head.
And then Black’s fingers coil around his throat.
“You filthy little half-blood,” Black spits in his ear, and the way he slurs the words out, the venom and hate laced in his tone-
He could kill you. Humiliation is better than death.
Severus screams. He still can’t bring himself to say ‘help’, but he screams, hoping someone might hear.
A part of him dies as he does it, but it’s better than all parts of him being murdered.
Black’s other hand goes over his mouth, thick, long fingers covering it, the ones around his throat only squeezing harder.
“Shhh. Don’t make a fuss now.” Black presses against him even harder, pushing Severus into the wall entirely, but at least he stops squeezing his throat as hard. It doesn’t help much with breathing, what with the obstruction around his mouth and nose. “Thought better of you, Snivellus. Crying out for help… pathetic. No one will hear you. And if they’ll hear you, no one will help. I’m Sirius fucking Black. Which one of these peasants do you think will dare raise their wands at me? Everyone knows it’s a foolish, dangerous thing, to cross a Black. Everyone except you, it seems.”
Severus brings his hands between himself and the wall until he’s clutching at Black’s hand- the one covering his mouth. He tries to pull it away, but it doesn’t shift.
“Tell you what, Snivellus.” His head is bent, so he speaks very closely into Severus’ ear, his lips brushing against it. Severus shudders. “If you’re a good little boy and stay quiet, I’ll let you breathe. How about that, huh? And then I’ll turn you around, and if you beg me nicely to let you go, I will. Marauder’s word.”
Marauder word is worth nothing. Less than nothing. But Black takes his hand away, and sweet, fresh air makes its way to Severus’ open, gulping mouth, down to his lungs.
Black just lets him breathe for a moment or two, his other hand still around Severus’ throat, but in a light grip.
I’ll never take air for granted again. Severus shivers, overcome by panic and the relief to be able to breathe.
He has to pull himself together. Black is pressed against his back and Severus has to find a way to get out of this predicament. He doesn’t scream again.
Black turns him over.
He’s very close, looming over Severus. His hair has come undone in the brief scuffle and is now hanging over his face, framing those sharp features and pale eyes.
“Go on, then. Beg me. Make it sound convincing, and I’ll let you go.”
Your life is worth more than your pride.
And yet Severus can’t make himself do it. Maybe he would, if he’d trust Black will truly let him go, afterward. But he won’t, will he? He’ll keep at it, he’ll find new ways to humiliate me, and he won’t ever simply let me go.
Severus pushes him with renewed vigour, and the struggle starts again. Just desperate shoving and pushing and pulling. And then the worst thing happens.
Severus realises he’s hard. He’s gotten hard at some point during all this and it’s unbearable.
He thought he’d panicked before, but this brings a new wave of despair, and he stops struggling, because if there’s something even worse than getting hard while Black has him pinned to a wall, it’s Black figuring it out.
Severus would truly prefer death.
“Black,” he says, and he sounds strangled, but that’s alright. Black is actually strangling him again, so he has all the reasons in the world to sound like that. He tries to put a hand between them. Not even pushing, just hoping to have a barrier, some space between them.
It works. The animal stills. “Reconsidered?”
Severus would like to close his eyes and disappear. But he’s not that lucky.
“Let me go,” he demands with as much force as he can muster.
Black laughs again, his demented laughter. “You’ll have to do much better than that.”
“Let me go!” Right up until he does it, there’s no actual intention to slug Black in the face. Frankly, that’s probably why he gets away with it. He punches Black straight in his nose, taking them both by surprise.
Black stumbles, shocked, letting go of Severus’ throat, and Severus flees-
He only makes it a few steps. Black runs after him, catches him by the robe, and this time they stumble to the ground together, the cobbled stone scratching at Severus’ hands.
“You fucking-” Black is too enraged to finish his sentence, turning Severus around, and the position doesn’t help at all. Just seeing Black climbing over him makes it far worse.
What’s wrong with me? he thinks, devastated. Why the fuck am I hard?
He’s terrified to be at Black’s mercy, he’s terrified he’ll die on that alley, and no one will find his skeleton for decades; he’s horrified Black will find out he’s hard and yet, impossibly, through all this, he stays hard.
Black repays him in kind, his fist connecting painfully with the side of his face. Severus actually sees stars, which hadn’t happened in years, not since the last time his father-
But thoughts of his father are more painful than his alarming reality, so he just focuses on the sharp pain, trying to break free, to hit back.
“I’m going to make you regret you were born, Snape!”
Joke’s on you, I already regret it, long before I even got to know you.
There’s no escape. There’s anger, pain and the memory of his childhood- Severus spits, saliva and blood landing on Black’s cheek, only to slowly dribble down back on Severus.
That’s it. He’s really going to kill me.
Black grabs his throat again, and he pushes himself up, puts a knee on Severus’ abdomen, to hold him still; he manages it. Black’s weight is inescapable.
And then his other knee comes up, probably to follow the same path, only it brushes past Severus’ still stiff prick and-
He’d never seen Black look confused. If it weren’t for the reason, Severus would relish in the look on utter shock on his face.
“NO!” he shouts, trying to squirm away with renewed vigour. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME!”
Black slips his free hands between them, and it goes straight to Severus’ cock, as if to check-
“My, my,” Black says, and now the confusion is gone, replaced with pure malice. It shines in his grey eyes with a fervour even Severus has never before seen. “Would you look at that?”
“I got into a fight with Mulciber,” Severus says, and he hopes there’s too much blood on his face- his own blood, and Blacks’ that’s slowly dripping on Severus from Black’s nose- and that it would hide the way he must blush. “He cursed me with- with a lust hex. That’s why I was alone.”
Black laughs, delighted. “You’re a terrible liar, Snivellus.” He squeezes his cock again, too hard to bring pleasure.
Severus makes a weak noise that will haunt him forever.
It will only haunt you if you survive this night.
“Please,” he says, humiliation washing over him. In all their history, no matter what they did to him, Severus never pleaded with them. He never begged. “Let me go.”
“I don’t think so, Snivellus.” Black lets go of his throat, braces his hand on the ground, on one side of Severus’ head.
“You said you’d let me go if I beg,” Severus reminds him, desperate. It’s an off shot. He knew Black wouldn’t keep his word.
“I would have.” Black grins at him, far too many teeth involved. “But it’s too late for that now. You introduced new terms. Fuck,” he mutters and looks down between them, blood smeared over his patrician nose, before he looks back up, holding Severus’ eyes. “You sick, perverted slut.”
The words slam into Severus, more painful than the punch. He freezes under their force. It’s quite possibly the worst thing Black had ever called him, and that’s saying something.
He’s rendered speechless with shame so deep it feels he’ll combust with it.
And fear, too. Black innate cruelty shifts under Severus’ helpless gaze, becomes more, as his eyes darken dangerously.
“Fucking disgusting,” he snarls, and he squeezes Severus again.
He’s going to castrate me. He’s so disgusted, so offended, that he’ll just rip my cock clean off.
Finally, his body catches up with his brain, and the fear sinks into every part of him. His erection wilts away.
“Please,” he begs, again. He doesn’t care anymore. He just wants out of this. His pride is already in ruins, it hardly matters.
Black tuts. “Now, now,” he admonishes, and his voice hits a very low octave. “Don’t go soft on me.” His grin gets wider. “Where’s your defiance? That insufferable stare of yours? What’s the matter, can’t meet my eyes anymore?”
He can’t. He really can’t.
“Black,” he whispers. He wants to raise his hands, to try and push him off again. He wants to be angry, to snarl and punch and tell Black off. Only he can’t. He just lays there, defenceless and horrified.
His life is over. Even if Black doesn’t kill him, he’ll never let him live this one down. By morning, the entire castle will know.
“If I’d have allowed myself to entertain the vile thought that you are sweet on one of us, I’d have betted on James.”
Severus is already feeling nauseous, but the thought of Potter is almost enough to make him vomit on the spot.
In the beginning, during their first years at school, things didn’t use to be as bad. There were pranks, there were heated arguments here and there, but they mostly never crossed paths.
It was only when they came to Hogwarts for their fourth year that the bullying started. In retrospect, it was the year when Potter started noticing Lily, developed his crush on her. She denied him, and Potter was so jealous she preferred to spend her breaks with Severus, that’s when the relentless bullying started.
So when, in their fifth year, he saw Lily glancing at Potter when she thought no one could see her-
“You fancy him!” he accused her.
“No, I don’t,” she denied, arms crossed over her chest, defensive.
They fought terribly. In the end- “And if I would, it would be none of your business!”
“None of my-?” Severus was choked up with betrayal. “How would you feel if I started fancying Black?”
Lily hated Black almost as much as Severus hated Potter. She couldn’t stand anything about him.
It was as if he cursed himself. He has no one to blame. He was the one to plant that seed in his own head.
He hates Black, but since then, he couldn’t help looking at him, couldn’t help but appreciate the smile Black wore on his face whenever he’d try to seduce a girl or another.
Severus hates himself the most, because it is terrible to notice these things about the boy that was making his life hell.
The boy that even as he was cursing Severus or humiliating him in front of the entire school, looked bored, his eyes stared right through Severus, as if he could be anyone.
At least Potter had true hate in his eyes, at least Potter saw him, noticed him and was aware Severus existed.
Black, however- his cruelty was imparted equally to whoever he targeted, nothing personal about it. Black could ruin his day, his year, his life, and he wouldn’t even care, probably wouldn’t even remember Severus five years into the future.
But now he looks down at Severus with interest- sadistic interest, but interest. Like he finally sees him.
His hand moves to Severus’ belt, and that finally snaps him out of his frozen state.
“No!” He kicks out, pushes at Black’s shoulders. “Let me go!”
“What’s the matter, Snivellus? I promise I won’t laugh at your dirty, cheap old pants.” He laughs as he promises that, fighting Severus, trying to subdue him. “I think I laughed all I could over them already. Really, for about a year.”
Severus remembers Black’s barking laugh the clearest from that day. The rest is a blur of humiliation and rage, but what he’ll never forget is Black’s laughter, and the word ‘mudblood’ coming out of his own mouth, Lily’s face falling.
How was it fair that the worst day of his life could bring Black such amusement? How is it fair Severus’ body reacts to his touch, the first physical touch between them, even after all that, even after Black casually tried to kill him?
Black is right. He is disgusting. Pathetic. His father was right, when he found the dirty mags in Severus’ room and called him the very same things. Amongst many other appellatives.
“Don’t do this,” Severus says. “Even you- you can’t do this.”
Sirius Black is many things, but he has the reputation he’s a gentleman. Severus heard more than he wanted, Black’s girls gossiping all over the castle. How gentle he is, how he makes sure they are comfortable, how very charming and carefully he treats them.
Right before he discards them, of course. Then the tears come, the wails and scandals in the Great Hall, girls yelling at him, dumping pumpkins juice over his head to everyone’s amusement.
Only Black laughs along with the rest. Even when he’s being screamed at, even when hysterical girls accuse him of breaking their hearts, Black is not Severus- he’s never a victim, never the butt of a joke. No one laugh at Black, no one ever made Black want to hide away in a dark corner, no one made his life so difficult that Black considered abandoning his studied because he just couldn’t take it anymore.
But all that aside, Black’s not a rapist. He isn’t. He doesn’t need to be, not when he can get a date without even asking. On every Valentine’s day, he receives pounds of chocolates, dozens of cards, girls fluttering their lashes at him in the hallway. He doesn’t even like blokes, Severus had never heard about that, had never seen Black with a boy.
“Can’t I?” Black asks, and then he laughs when Severus twists around on his stomach and tries to crawl away, his hands looking for purchase in between the cobbles. “Oh, you just made it worse for yourself.”
Black’s entire body covers Severus’, pushing him to the ground completely. “Or maybe this is exactly what you want. Have you been dying to present your flat, unappealing arse to me, Snivellus? Did you wank yourself raw picturing this very position?”
Hot tears gather in his eyes. A sob rips itself out of his mouth. This can’t be happening to me. How did this happen?
“Please,” he says, and he sounds like a child, voice thick with tears. “Let me go.”
“No.”
No. So simple.
All the fight leaves him at that casually said word, at the lack of consideration behind it. Black does what he wants, always, and he gets away with it, without fail. It’s just the way things are, and Severus can’t fight against the injustice anymore. Not after Albus fucking Dumbledore, who talks about justice and equality, looked into Severus’ eyes and told him to never speak about Black trying to feed him to a werewolf.
There is no justice to be had. There is no escape. The world belongs to men like Black, men like Malfoy; powerful, rich purebloods that have no care for anyone around them.
He slumps, defeated.
Black turns him back around.
“Are you crying?” Black amusement shines through his eyes, that just get darker and darker every time Severus dares to glance at them. “How sweet.” A calloused thumb wipes away a tear from his cheek, and it’s beyond humiliating that Severus shudders at the touch, that he almost leans into this mock gentleness.
No one has touched him since Lily kissed his cheek goodbye in their fifth year, days before that fateful day by the lake.
“I always wanted to make you cry,” Black says, cupping his face. “Fuck.”
Even the fear is dimmed down now. He already lost, he’s already humiliated. How much worse can it get?
Much, much worse, a voice whispers, and he remembers his mother’s bruised body, her screams through the night when his father came home drunk and locked himself in her bedroom, the way she couldn’t get out of bed for days sometimes-
The fear is back now, full force. “Black,” he tries again. “You got what you wanted. You made me beg. You saw me cry. Enough.”
“Hmm.” Black considers him, tilting his head to the side, his warm hand still on Severus’ cheek.
Why, oh why does that feel good, even when he is terrified of what Black will do next?
“You’re an ugly tosser,” Black says. Even if it is not news- Severus owns a mirror- it still hurts to hear it. “But you have beautiful eyes, Snivellus. I’ll give you that.”
What?
“What?”
“Big, dark… intelligent.” Black wipes another tear away. “In a sea of stupid, empty gazes, you definitely stand out.”
What is happening?
Severus’ mouth, already dry with fear, now gets drier. He swallows, but nothing goes down. His throat constricts, and he swallows again.
He stares into Black’s eyes, and those are beautiful. Bright and light, even with all the cruelty inside them.
“You should cry more often. It suits you. Fuck, if you’d have cried back when I took the piss out of you, I’d have stopped and scooped you up. Kissed you better.”
Severus’ breath hitches, gets trapped inside his chest.
He must have hit his head so hard on the wall that he’s hallucinating.
Or maybe Black’s punch had knocked him out, and he’s now dreaming.
“What are you doing?” Severus asks, voice small and weak when Black lowers his head-
“Kissing it better,” he answers, and his soft, plump lips touch Severus’ cheek, right over the cut left by his fist, minutes earlier.
It stings, but he barely registers it. It stings even more when Black licks him, drags his tongue over the blood and tears.
“Black,” Severus says, but he doesn’t know what else to say. It’s like he’s suddenly turned into jello.
He shivers at the sensation, at someone’s warm body so close to his own, at someone’s lips on his face.
And then Black’s hand starts working on his belt, and Servers jerks back to reality.
“No.” He knows it’s useless. He knows Black won’t care, but he has to say it, doesn’t he? He still has to say it.
But he doesn’t fight this time. He can’t. He can’t move his limbs, especially when Black’s lips advance an inch to the side and they’re now brushing the corner of Severus’ lips.
He stays very, very still, assaulted by too many emotions, too many sensations. Assaulted by Black.
This is assault, isn’t it?
He hears the clank of his belt as it falls open, and now Black is working on his buttons-
Severus closes his eyes.
This isn’t happening. I’ll wake up soon and realise it was all a nightmare. Or a dream.
Will I regret it was just a dream? Or will I be relieved?
He jerks, uncontrolled, when Black's hand slips into his pants, over his now limp cock.
But then he starts stroking it.
Severus’ heart will burst soon. It has to, the way it’s struggling frantically against his ribs.
“Black,” he begs.
Black kisses him. Oh, so softly, on the lips.
No one kissed Severus before. Not on the lips. Even on his cheek- there was only Lily and his mother.
His mind stops. It just stops. There’s no thought, just the feel of Black’s soft lips on his own harsh, thin ones.
Then there’s the tip of a tongue, tracing the outline of Severus’ lips, wetting them, pushing at them, insistent.
It’s the simplest thing in the world to part them open.
And now Sirius Black is really kissing him.
Severus doesn’t know what to do; there’s a weak sound somewhere, and it’s quite possible he was the one that made it.
Black’s tongue swirls around his own, and Severus just goes with it, imitates it. It’s more than he expected from a kiss.
Black taste like nicotine and firewhiskey, he tastes like dark magic and fire.
He had imagined a kiss must feel good, but he never imagined it would feel like this. Black gets wilder, kissing him harder, a hand still on his cheek, holding him gently.
The other is still around Severus’ now hard cock. When did that happen?
He’s dizzy. Nothing makes sense anymore.
Just enjoy it, an almost foreign voice whispers in his head. Enjoy it. Severus doesn’t enjoy anything; and that’s partially the fault of the boy on top of him.
He shouldn’t enjoy it, least of all because it must be a trick. Any moment now, Black will rip himself away and spit; he’ll wipe his mouth and tell Severus he’s a disgusting half-blood and how could you believe I’d ever kiss you? I’m just drunk, you fucking ninny. Get me an Obliviator so I can remove the last five minutes from my head.
Severus opens his eyes, and he sees his limbs have resumed feelings, because now his arms are around Black’s shoulders.
He drops them to the ground as soon as he sees them, mortified and on the verge of a breakdown.
Black pulls away, and here we go-
He does spit. Severus flinches, something inside him crumbles, but he notices Black spat in his hand, the one that let go of Severus’ cheek at some point.
And then he replaces that hand with the one in his pants.
Severus whines when those wet, long fingers stoke him. His hips move on their own accord, without his permission, rising toward the scorching touch.
There’s no smirk on Black’s face, no mocking smile- nothing. His face is blank, but his eyes are alight. With what, Severus can’t tell- nor does he want to know.
He mutters a spell, and of course Black would be good with wandless magic; Severus’ robe vanishes off him and appears a few inches away, crumpled on the ground.
“Black.”
But Black just captures his lips again, silencing him.
I can’t get fucked in an ally in December. His mind knows this. But his body doesn’t feel the cold. It feels hot.
He’ll come. He’ll come soon, embarrassingly soon, and Black will mock him for it.
But he’s never been touched there and it’s too good, it’s too much-
“Black. People could see,” he tries, squirming.
“So? Let them see you get buggered like a hungry whore.”
Severus flinches as if a bucket of freezing water was dumped over him. He feels the cold now; in his hands, in his head.
In his chest.
He puts his hand on Black’s shoulders and pushes.
“Get off!“
“Sorry,” Black says.
Did he hear that right? Sirius Black apologising?
Somehow, from everything that happened so far, this is the most unbelievable turn of events.
“Sorry, sorry,” Black repeats. “I just say stupid shit sometimes.”
“Sometimes?” Severus whispers against his lips, bewildered.
Black draws his head back. He tries for a smile, but it’s too feral to count as one. It belongs on a rabid wolf.
“Hold on.” Black lets go of Severus’ cock and pulls out his wand, making Severus flinch again.
“Merlin’s fucking balls, I’m not going to curse you, Snape.”
Severus opens his mouth to remind him how many times Black did curse him, but a horrible void pulls at his stomach, everything goes black and spinning at the same time.
He chokes, struggling to breathe, and when he opens his eyes, he’s in a room.
“You Appeared us?” Unthinkable.
This was the worst Apparition of his life. Granted, he hadn’t done it many times, just with his mother occasionally, and once Lucius Malfoy side Apparated him, but it hadn’t felt as terrible.
Because they weren’t drunk out of their minds, probably, and because Severus knew to expect it.
“You could have splinched us- did we splinch?” he tries to look down at his body; he sees blood, but that could be from any number of events that night, and same goes for the pain.
Black rolls his eyes, and he pulls Severus’ trousers and pants down his thighs. “The most important bit is intact,” he says, taking Severus’ prick in his hand again, and Severus forgets about splinching.
He forgets to ask where they are, though he has his suspicions.
It’s empty, dusty, windows boarded up, with only a few boards missing, as if they’d been pulled away forcefully.
But he can’t think of that, not when he’s so close to coming all over Black’s fingers.
“Stop,” he says, strangled, squeezing his fists at his side, fingernails biting into his skin painfully.
Shockingly, Black does, but before he can breathe with relief, he realises Black only stopped to pull his trousers and pants lower.
His wand is still in his hand, and he flicks it once. Severus’ warn out shoes fly off his feet, and the rest follows.
He’s completely naked from the waist down, apart from his socks.
His pale, skinny legs with knobbly knees are very visible, even through the dim starlight coming from cracks in the window.
“Part them,” Black demands.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. He won’t.
“Open your fucking legs, Snivellus,” Black barks, and he sounds more like himself, more real than he’d been in the last minutes. “Don’t play bloody shy now.”
Severus tries to sit up, to cover himself with his hands, but he’s pushed back down, Black looming over him threateningly.
“Sorry,” he says, again, confusing Severus even more, before capturing Severus’ lips in another kiss.
His response is lost in it.
A knee is pushing between Severus’ own locked ones.
“Come on,” Black whispers against his lips, kissing around his mouth, one of his big hands grabbing Severus’ hip, the other going back to his cock. “Open up.”
“Why?”
Sirius Black, the most popular bloke in Hogwarts, the most lusted after- why would he want Severus’ skinny legs to part for him?
“Why?” Black laughs, his chest on top of Severus, so he can feel the vibrations in it. “Throw a guess. Merlin, why, he asks. So I can fuck you.”
Severus shudders, squirms on the floor and allows the pressure from Blacks’ knee to win. His legs drop to either side of Black, who’s quick to settle there. He sits on his haunches, and when he looks down, Severus closes his eyes in shame.
He’s so exposed like that. Black can see everything-
A metallic noise pierces the night.
Severus opens his eyes and sees Black pulling out his own belt out of the loops, his eyes trained between Severus’ legs.
He watches Black make short work of his fly, and in one swift movement, his cock springs free.
It’s as massive as the rest of him. As angry, too, red with bulging veins running on its side.
One way or another, Black will murder him that night. Either with intent, either accidentally tearing him apart with his prick.
It will hurt, and Severus doesn’t want that. Black had already inflicted quite enough pain on him during the years.
Yet he says nothing- what would it help if he protested at this point? Black showed he won’t listen. He never does.
Severus watches him stroking himself, precome gathering on that huge cockhead. Black collects it with his thumb and uses it to slick his cock.
He reaches out with his other hand, cupping Severus’ bollocks, rolling them around.
Severus can’t move, something primal inside him warning him to stay still, what with his enemy literally holding him by the balls.
But he’s let go soon, and then a finger trails down, all the way to his hole.
Severus twitches, slides up the floor, away from it.
Black sighs, very put upon. “So jittery,” he complains. He leans down over Severus, grinds himself over his body. Their cocks touch and Severus shouts out something. He’s not sure what.
He feels Black’s grin over his lips, right before his tongue slips into Severus’ mouth once more.
It’s all escalating, fast. The kiss is aggressive, but so hot. Severus feels wanted. He feels seen.
No one can kiss like that if they don’t like who they’re kissing, right?
There’s passion in it, and Severus had never been the recipient of passion. It feels like fire.
When Black’s finger circles around his hole again, Severus tenses, but he doesn’t flinch away from it.
His hands have once again moved on their own, grasping at Black’s shoulders tightly.
Black, who is still wearing a robe. Who still has his trousers and pants and shoes on.
But at least his silky, perfect hair is free, and Severus can’t help himself. He’s weary, he’s convinced Black might cut his hands off, but he sinks his fingers in that thick, plentiful mane.
When Black grinds down, Severus raises his hips up, and the friction is just incredible, so much better than when Severs steals a few moments for himself in the shower for a quick wank.
Many times, Sirius Black was the star of those shower fantasies.
And now he’s really there, groaning on top of Severus.
Severus will come this time, there’s no sense in imagining he can stop it, not with Black’s thick cock dragging over his own, over and over again-
Black pulls back.
“No,” Severus says, with very different meaning this time.
Black picks his wand from the floor.
“Snape, I swear! Stop fucking flinching. Merlin!”
But it’s hard not to, when Black points the wand right at him-
He doesn’t say the spell out loud, and Severus doesn’t have the time to doge it. It tingles inside.
Oh. He thinks it’s a cleaning spell.
Black’s finger presses against his entrance, putting more pressure than before, but not enough to breach Severus.
“If you ask me nicely, I’ll let you go,” Black says, staring down at him, eyes pure black. “So if you want this to stop, now is the moment to speak up.”
Say it. Tell him to get off you. But what’s the point? Black now knows Severus wants him. He’s already seen his pale arse- flat and unappealing, isn’t that how he called it?
He’s already humiliated, so might as well get something out of it, even if it will hurt.
Deep down, Severus thinks this will be his only chance in life to have sex. Not just with Black. But with anyone.
Black’s drunk out of his mind, he probably wants to inflect new torments on Severus- this is the only chance he’ll ever get, the circumstances that led to it unlikely to be repeated.
Besides, what if he says ‘no’ and Black still fucks him? Then it would be rape, and Severus wouldn’t be able to live with that.
He says nothing. Black doesn’t wait for longer than a handful of seconds and then he presses inside-
It burns. Severus expected pain, but he hadn’t known to expect burning. He clenches around Black’s finger, tense as a spring, a whine escaping his lips.
“Fuck, you’re as tight as a bloody virgin.”
If it weren’t for the intrusion in his arse, Severus would laugh.
Can it truly be possible that Black thinks Severus isn’t a virgin? Who, exactly, does Black think would want to fuck him and his flat, unappealing arse, his ugly face with his greasy hair? More importantly, who would risk drawing the Marauders’ attention on themselves if rumour reaches the Gryffindors that Severus has a partner?
Black pulls his finger out, and even that is uncomfortable. It doesn’t last long. He grabs Severus’ cheeks, spreads them and spits. Right on his hole.
God. Fuck. Christ.
Severus’ cock twitches, just as his mind recoils in shame.
The finger burns a little less when it enters him again, slower this time.
“Lubricant,” Severus whispers. There’s a spell for lubrication. Or so Rosier says. Of course Evan fucks girls, so maybe that’s different, but Severus doesn’t see why the spell would be different.
“Do you deserve lubricant, Snivellus?” Black asks, and he twists his finger inside, making Severus shout again. “Don’t get you knickers in a twist. I’ll make you wet before I fuck you.”
So filthy. Severus feels like his head is burning, like he’s on fire. Who talks like that?
His cock twitches against his soft belly, leaking precome on his disheveled shirt.
“Would you stop now? If I told you to stop, would you?”
The only answer he gets is a dark look, and then, immediately after, a second finger pushes inside him, making him cry out.
Now it hurts, on top of burning.
“Do you want me to stop, Snivellus?” Black asks, voice rough and dangerous.
Yes. No.
Severus doesn’t know what the hell he wants.
“Don’t call me that.” His own voice is weak, and he’s very aware he just opened himself for mockery with his request, that Black always strikes where he knows it hurts more.
That’s why he calls him by that nickname to begin with. That’s why he’s doing this, something inside his head warns him.
“What the fuck do you expect me to call you?” A growl, just as his fingers push deeper inside him.
“Just- “ Severus swallows a hiss of pain. “Just don’t.” He already sounds wrecked, and Black hadn’t even fucked him yet.
“Fine,” Black allows, all generous, like he’s making a tremendous sacrifice. “You’re a fussy, sensitive flower, aren’t you?”
Humiliating, but he’s far too lost to protest now, he’s far too used to mockery, and there is no going back.
Black’s other hand starts stroking Severus’ prick again, but this time his orgasm isn’t as imminent, his pleasure confused and diminished by the discomfort in his backside.
He closes his eyes, trying not to think that Black is probably committing to memory the way Severus looks, with his legs sprawled and his arse being worked opened. He’ll surely use it to mock me more after it’s over. To find new insults that will destroy Severus’ life.
It’s already destroyed.
Severus does his best to just feel.
He’d want Black to kiss him again. That felt even better than his cock being stroked. It felt intimate, valuable. But it’s quite impossible for Black to kiss him now, what with everything going on.
When Black finds his prostrate, Severus is not prepared. He jerks so violently he almost dislodges the fingers inside him.
“Ahh!”
Severus feels the pleasure all throughout his body, especially in his lower half, concentrating in his core and spreading out all the way to his toes.
He’s not prepared the second time those long fingers brush against it, either. It’s just too much, almost painful in its own way.
“Black,” he says, but he doesn’t know what to ask after that and Black is not paying attention, in any case.
He’ll do what he wants. He’ll use me the way he wants, no matter what I say. And Severus is sick, he must be, because his cock twitches in anticipation.
He must lose some seconds, because he doesn’t see, nor hear Black cast the spell.
He only feels a sudden wetness filling his insides.
“There you go,” Black says, his voice deeper than ever, his accent more pronounced that Severus has ever heard it. “Wet as a cunt.”
Severus’ stomach clenches in arousal and in shame, insulted and turned on.
It feels better like this, though the noises filling the room when Black fucks his fingers inside Severus’ hole are obscene and fill him with a fresh wave of humiliation.
Even with lubrication, the third finger hurts more than the others. He clenches down again, hard, but Black keeps going as determined and single-minded as ever.
He attempts to relax his muscles, but it’s so hard to do so. Eventually, after a couple more minutes, they loosen on their own, if only a bit.
When Black withdraws his hand, he feels empty.
He wipes his fingers on Severus’ shirt, before he takes his terrifying cock in hand and lines up.
The thick head catches at the entrance, but it doesn’t go in. It can’t go in, Severus thinks, almost delirious.
But it does. With a hard thrust of Black’s hips, it forces its way inside Severus.
And if Black’s fingers hurt, it was nothing compared to this. The stretch is unbearable, the pain sharp and unrelenting.
“I can’t,” Severus says, squirming. “I can’t!“
Black leans over him, and that only pushes his cock deeper inside. Hot, searing pain-
“You can,” Black whispers against his lips, and for the first time, he sounds a bit strangled himself. “You can take it, Sniv- Snape. Just relax.”
How can one relax as he’s being impaled?
“Breathe,” Black instructs. He coaxes Severus’ lips open, licks inside his mouth, behind his teeth. He moans inside Severus’ mouth and that-
Knowing how much Black is enjoying this, that he’s taking pleasure in Severus flat, unappealing arse…
“Go- go slow,” he mumbles, words muffled against Black’s tongue.
A mistake. Black always does the opposite of what he’s asked.
Severus thought he was all in, but he was wrong. Black thrusts, and more of his cock slips inside, making Severus cry out.
He’s trying to breathe, but he’s hyperventilating. Tears spring to his eyes, fall down his cheeks, right into his mouth, which Black is still devouring.
He must taste the saltiness, because Black groans again, and he lifts his head, looks right into Severus’ eyes.
“Fuck,” he says. “Who the fuck put those brilliant eyes on your ugly mug? A fucking waste.”
He moves, withdrawing before Severus had the chance to get used to his girth.
And then he slams in again.
Severus screams. Black’s fingers are harsh on his face, but it’s touch, it could pass for gentleness, even if Black is gripping his jaw too tightly. It’s nothing compared to the way he’s pounding into Severus, anyway, so Severus leans into his touch, for comfort, for a way to escape the pain.
“Knew you could take it,” Black groans.
“I can’t,” Severus hisses. “It hurts.”
“Does it? Then you’re a pain slut, Snape. Look how stiff your prick is.” Black shifts, changing the angle, and he lets go of Severus’ face, taking his cock in hand again.
Severus is hard, yes. Very hard. Even with the pain. Why?
“I should have guessed. You’re a glutton for punishment, you are. Is that why you stalked us- stalked me all over Hogwarts? Did you like it when I hexed you off your feet? Did you get hard when I put you on your arse?”
“No! No!”
Never. That’s a different type of hurt, one that damages far more than any pain he’s experiencing at the moment.
“You’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock like that, pulling me deeper. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”
Severus struggles to breathe, but it’s just impossible under the painful assault on his arse, under the acute pleasure in his cock and bollocks every time Black twists his hand just right; under the onslaught of nasty words coming out of Black’s venomous mouth.
It’s a wonder Severus hasn’t died after kissing him. But he knows Black’s venom, spat out over the years at him, is already inside his veins, slowly building over time, offering him some type of immunity.
When that hot, steel, thick poker inside him brushes against his prostate, it all becomes too much.
Severus has many orgasms under his belt, all given by his own hand, but this feels nothing like that.
It feels like dropping from a broom, like falling into the pits of hell. It feels like he’s about to faint, like his stomach is leaking out of his arse.
Pleasure and pain explode behind his eyelids. Distantly, he thinks Black has to pin him down, because Severus’ back arches high up from the floor, his body jerking uncontrollably as he spills himself over Black’s finger.
It’s like his heart is now beating in his arse. Severus feels it throbbing, pulsing, and it must be so, because Black gives a tortured sound, and he fucks into Severus even harder, even faster.
He just lays there, limp, disoriented, trembling from head to toe, Black’s vicious thrusts moving him on the floor.
Just as it becomes absolutely unbearable, when he’s so oversensitive he couldn’t stand a feather, let alone that massive prick, Black slams in one more time, head bent, hair obscuring his face from view, and he comes, hot come filling Severus up.
Black collapses on top of him, crushing Severus’ ribs with his weight, and he goes limp, too, his lungs working hard to keep him breathing.
Severus lifts an arm and places it on Blacks’ head, now slotted between Severus’ neck and shoulder. It’s impulsive. It feels natural in that dreamlike state.
Black draws away as soon as Severus touches him. He does it fast, and the slide of his cock on its way out it’s even more painful than when it made its way in.
A sob catches in Severus’ chest, and he curls on his side. He feels the need to clutch his own arse, to push his cheeks back together, because it feels they’re far apart. It feels like he’s been torn open, and he hopes the substance dripping out of his hole, down his thighs is only semen, and not blood.
He bites his fist, so he won’t go for his arse.
Black drops beside him, on his back, still breathing hard.
“Who’d have guessed you wouldn’t be a horrible fuck?” he asks, and Severus squeezes his eyes shut.
The pain, coupled with the aftershock of orgasm, with the fight in the alley and all that fear- it makes him want to throw up. He’s exhausted.
He focuses on his own breathing. Within minutes, he finally feels the cold that had been kept at bay by Black’s furnace of a body.
It bites at his exposed legs, at his loose, stretched arse. He shivers, but he thinks he’ll pass out if he moves, even an inch. Attempting to put on his pants is impossible to consider.
“Fuck,” Black mutters, pulling Severus out of a very uncomfortable slumber. Or maybe the first stages of hypothermia.
Severus opens his eyes, but he can’t keep them open. He blinks several times, but they stubbornly close again. His teeth are chattering loudly.
He thinks he hears footsteps. “Come on, get up. You’ll freeze to death.”
Severus doesn’t answer.
“Snape,” Black growls at him, and then he must bend over Severus because he pulls at his hand-
Severus lets out a sob. “Can’t. Hurts.”
“That bad?” Black asks, and Severus should have kept his mouth shut, because Black kneels behind him, and he spreads Severus’ cheeks open-
“No,” he protests, mortified.
It’s one thing to have Black looking at his arse when they were both hard, and quite another like this.
“Shut up. Lumos!”
Light flickers and reaches Severus even through his closed eyelids.
“You’re fucking fine,” Black says. “No bleeding. Stop being a princess and get up.”
Severus doesn’t move.
“Suit yourself, then. I’m going.”
Why would this make his chest ache? It’s not like it’s unexpected.
“Merlin’s fucking beard,” Black says after a few seconds, and something thick covers Severus.
And then what can only be a warming charm is cast at him, because the cold vanishes.
And so does Black.
(-)
Severus wakes up slowly. His limbs feel stiff. He opens his eyes and doesn’t recognise his surroundings.
He sits up, abruptly and he screams.
“Fuck,” he yells out, collapsing back on his side.
Right. His arse reminds him of everything that went on. It wasn’t a horrible nightmare. It was real.
Black’s warming charm had faded away, but his thick, expensive coat remained. It stopped Severus from freezing to death, at least.
It’s Monday, something in his head reminds him. And dawn is breaking. You have classes.
Oh, no. Oh no.
Panic.
Which is good, because panic over teachers discovering he’s missing and hadn’t slept in the castle is better than having to think or feel anything about the past night.
It takes him a couple of tries to stand up, and it’s agony. He walks very carefully, limping around the room until he finds his shoes.
Putting them on, along with his pants and trousers, is nothing short of torture.
He’s sticky, Black’s come dried on his thighs and around his hole. His own come froze over his shirt. He needs to cast a Scourgify-
My wand!
He looks at his right arm, his wand arm, and sees the violent, purple bruises Black left him with when he griped him so hard the wand fell out of Severus’ hand.
The fucking bastard.
He must be in the Shrieking Shack; that’s far from the alley- or at least far for someone that experiences agony with every step.
How the fuck do I get out of here?
Just then he sees red arrows on the floor, and it could be a prank, but he has no choice but to follow them, until he finds a door that Black must have broken the lock on, because it opens.
It started snowing outside.
Black’s winter cloak is heavy on Severus’ shoulders. Warm. The best, most comfortable thing he ever wore in his life.
Did the mad man walk all the way to Hogwarts without his coat?
A masochistic, pathetic part of Severus wants to attach something to the act of Black leaving Severus with his cloak, but then he remembers Black had a wand. He had a wand, and he left Severus without his own. Without his own cloak, too, that he took off Servus in that alley.
By the time he reaches the alley, slowly, even step a deliberate action, the sun has come up all the way, casting its light from behind heavy clouds.
Severus is not a lucky man, but for once the universe took pity on him, and he finds both his wand and his cloak. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if he’d lost his wand.
His face hurts, and he remembers Black punched him savagely, smashed his face into the wall, too.
Every bit of him hurts.
The walk back to Hogwarts is hell.
(-)
“What happened to you?” Rosier asks, when Severus limps into their bedroom.
It took forever to slip past the caretaker.
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
“Severus-“
“I’m fine!” he snaps, and his voice comes out dangerously high.
He’s tired, and he’s in pain, burdened down with the knowledge of what he’d done.
By the time the castle finishes breakfast, everyone will know. Black will tell everyone how Severus got hard while Black was roughing him up. And Black won’t shy away from embellishments, from saying how Severus begged for it, or-
God, Lily. He’ll tell Potter and Lily first.
He shuts himself in the bathroom.
He flinches when he sees his reflection in the mirror. It looks like a savage beast had mauled him.
His nose is swollen, bigger than normal. His left eyes is a bit swollen too, black and blue all over. The left side of his face is purple. There’s the cut from Blacks’ ring, and the abrasions from the bricks and the pavement.
And then there’s the dried blood all over his face and clothes.
He’d been in many duels at Hogwarts, but he never- they were never physical. At worst a bruised cheek, from a muggleborn’s weak punch.
Severus hadn’t look liked this since his father used to-
He grips his wand and spells his nose back in place, gritting his teeth so he won’t yell out.
He heals the cut and the scratches, but the bruises will need a special balm, and he doesn’t have it.
I could make one. I can steal some ingredients from Slughorn and brew -
Where?
“Severus?” Evan asks through the door. “You alright?”
“What’s wrong with Snape?” Avery's sleepy voice.
“Tell the teachers I don’t feel well.”
A pause. “Someone will come to check on you if I say that. And mind you, I think you should be checked, but-“
“I’ll be out in a minute.”
A minute turns into almost an hour. By then all his roommates have woken up, but blessedly no one yells at him to hurry up, and they all go bully the younger students into letting them use their bathrooms.
Severus washes himself from head to toe, twice, letting the hot water turn his skin read. And then he gets to work on his glamours. They are difficult to cast and maintain, especially through a school day, when he’ll need to cast other spells, when he’ll need to focus.
Focus? You think you can focus?
Severus has never felt so off centred in his life. He’s sick. Truly sick, his stomach rolling around inside him. He’s in pain, and he’s exhausted.
He does his best with the glamours, and even through all his misery he feels a jolt of pride at having successfully covered all the evidence of the night before.
By the time he’s out, everyone had gone to breakfast. Severus can’t even think about eating, or seeing Black.
You will see him in Potions, though.
No. Severus won’t look at him. He always sits in the front, and Black always sits in the back.
Severus makes his way directly to the Potions classroom. He walks so carefully that by the time he’s there, he hears others coming down the stairs, done with breakfast.
“Watch out,” Mulciber tells Severus. “Black’s in a mood today.”
“Capital M,” Flint nods along.
Severus’ stomach sinks. “Oh.”
“He almost killed Abbot. Right there at breakfast! Even for Black, that was crazy.” Avery says.
“Well, no wonder he’s… like that,” Evan says.
“Yeah, I guess,” Mulciber allows. “I’d be in a mood, too, if I were him.”
“Why? What happened?” Severus asks, stomach clenching. Had Black already told people? Is he using the trauma of fucking Severus and then sobering up and realising it, as an excuse to attack students?
Avery looks at him oddly. “You don’t know?”
“How would he know?” Mulciber snorts.
“His father is terminally ill,” Evan says. “That’s why Regulus is missing. He was given special permission Saturday to leave the castle and go home.”
Severus hadn’t noticed the younger Black wasn’t around. He tends to avoid the boy, because he’s only a tad more bearable than older Black, and almost as nasty.
“And cousin Narcissa told mum that Sirius went home, too. Or tried to. He wanted to see his father, but his mother wouldn’t let him in. Apparently, she wouldn’t open the door for him.”
Gryffindors are now catching up, trickling down the stairs. Severus sees the twin gleaming badges on Potter’s and Lily’s chest. They’re walking hand in hand, and Potter looks worried, a frown between his brows. The werewolf is on his other side, equally drawn. But then, when isn’t he? Pettigrew whispers something to him.
“Where’s Black now?” he asks Avery.
“In Dumbledore’s office. McGonagall was furious. She barely pulled Black off Abbot.”
“Pff, like Dumbledore would punish one of his pets,” Mulciber says.
Indeed, in less than ten minutes, Black comes thundering down the stairs, just as Slughorn opens the door to the classroom.
Severus darts inside.
“Nice job on those glamours, by the way,” Evan whispers, eyeing him carefully. “Impressive.”
Severus can’t focus, because he feels Blacks’ chaotic energy, his malignant magic, entering the room.
Severus sits, and then instantly bolts up when his arse touches the hard wooden chair.
“What?” Evan asks, more and more concerned.
Severus needs a second to breathe before he can answer. “Nothing.”
He casts what he hopes is a discrete cushioning charm at the chair, while pretending to look inside his bag for his book.
Even with the charm, it’s still incredibly uncomfortable to sit.
He keeps squirming, as Slughorn speaks, and he can feel someone staring at him. He doesn’t need to guess who.
The minutes go by painfully slow. He’s sweating, keeps adjusting his position to no use.
“What the hell has crawled up Snivellus’ arse?”
That’s Potter; he sounds amused. Severus freezes. Has Black already told him?
“James!” Lily’s annoyed hiss.
“What? Merlin, you said not to curse him anymore! I haven’t! I was just wondering why he’s squirming like that.“
“Drop it.” Lily again.
Severus wants the floor to swallow him. Should he do some damage control? At least with his friends? Before they have to hear about it at lunch?
Or maybe Black is drawing crude pictures of Severus’ arse, come dripping out of it and he plans to spread them around, provide visual entertainment.
He almost throws up in his cauldron.
“You really should see the Matron,” Evan says, when class is finally over. “Who was it? Potter?”
As if Potter would ever go as far.
(-)
He avoids lunch and dinner, too, and he has no other classes that day with the lions.
When he goes through his trunk to pick up his nightclothes, he sees Black’s winter cloak, right where he hid it in the morning.
What should he do with it? Return it? It must have cost a fortune.
Yeah, right. Sure, go return it.
Severus shivers, just imagining it.
Burn it, then. He’ll burn it as soon as he can bear to walk all the way outside the castle and set it on fire.
(-)
He catches a glimpse of Black the next day, during Defence. He must use a glamour too- after all, for all of his idiocies, Black isn’t actually stupid. He’s quite capable with magic.
Or maybe he just has those expensive salves on hand, that would take care of any bruising, because there is no sign of anything amiss on his symmetrical face, and there should be; Severus remembers the moment when his fist connected with Black’s nose, the satisfying crunch, and the blood flowing down Black’s chin.
Black doesn’t look at him, staring right through the wall for the entire class.
(-)
By the third day, the pain in his arse is almost gone. The bruises on his face are a dark yellow and green before he puts the glamour for the day.
Now that he can actually sit without being in agony, Severus starts to obsess over why Black hasn’t told anyone yet.
He’s too ashamed to admit he slept with me. Even Black can’t turn that around and make it a joke. If people find out, they’ll mock Severus, but they’ll laugh at Black too, for the first time ever.
He starts to relax. Maybe he really won’t tell.
At night, though, in his bed-
Severus keeps remembering it all, over and over again. He still feels the ghost of Black’s lips on his own.
Beautiful eyes.
He tries not to linger on ‘slut’, or ‘cunt’, or ‘ugly’.
On the fourth night, when the pain is completely gone, Severus gives in to temptation and sneaks into the shower, closing his eyes and wanking under the water.
(-)
He sees Black with a girl on his lap, out in the courtyard. A silly, air headed sixth year Hufflepuff. He can hear her giggles all the way from the second floor classroom.
He can see Black’s dazzling smile, his tame one, boyish and non threatening.
Severus knows he’s not calling her a slut; he knows Blacks doesn’t call anyone a slut, beside him. That he doesn’t call her disgusting, or fucks her in a freezing, dusty ruin of a room. He knows Black doesn’t hurt her. He’s probably all gentle when he takes her. Her or any other of his flavours of the month.
He swallows past the knot in his throat.
(-)
He’s first in line for Potions, waiting for the door to open so he can run inside it and escape the burning at the back of his head, caused by Black’s stares. He’s so focused on ignoring him that when the door opens and Black comes out of it, he jumps back as if burned.
“I’d appreciate it if you kept your distance, Snape. I don’t need half-bloods touching me.”
Severus is frozen up, before he takes note of the poutier mouth, the shorter hair, the slightly narrower shoulders.
The higher voice.
The other Black has returned. Severus slumps in relief.
“Knock it off, Regulus,” Evan says, the only one of Severus’ friends to dare mouth off to a Black. Only because they’re cousins.
“Ten points from Slytherin.” Lily is suddenly beside him, face flushed, eyes narrowed. Of course, Potter is right beside her, glued to each other as they are these days.
“Lily,” Potter warns, clearly uncomfortable, eyeing his best mate over his shoulder.
While all the Slytherins are fair game to Potter, and he picked on everyone he could, Severus noticed Regulus was never targeted.
“For what?” Regulus demands, looking down at her, even if he’s younger. In fact, he’s looking down at Potter, too.
“For insulting-“
“I don’t need you to defend me,” Severus snaps at her.
“Back off, red-head,” Avery snarls. “Slytherin business doesn’t concern you.“
“Watch your tone with her.” Potter is all bothered now, puffing his chest, shooting a death glare at Avery.
“You can piss off, too,” Mulciber snarls at Potter.
And then Black is there, placing himself between Potter and Mulciber.
However tense the atmosphere was before, now it’s tenfold. Sirius Black tends to do that to any crowd.
“Shut it, Mulciber,” he barks.
Silence falls. Avery, Mulciber, Rosier- the Slytherins know Black more than Potter does. Potter’s a nasty bully, but he’s not unhinged. He doesn’t guess what rot lies in his best mate.
The Slytherins know, and they are weary to speak up, especially since Black already looks unstable, from the get go.
“What a surprise. A blood traitor sticking up for another,” Regulus drawls, after some seconds, eyes moving between his brother and Potter, filled with anger. “You know how protective he is over his boyfriend, Mulciber.”
“You little shit.” Black steps forward, and if Regulus can look down at most people his age and many older than him, he can’t do that with his brother.
Regulus opens his mouth, but just then Slughorn comes out of the classroom. “Everything alright?”
They all go off at once.
Lily says Regulus is insulting people, Avery complains Lily is abusing her Head Girl position to take points for no reason and that Potter threatened to curse him. Potter says Avery is a liar, and they all talk over each other.
Black stays silent, as if he can’t even hear what’s going on around him, glaring down at his brother, until the little shit loses his nerve and backs away, quickly running after Crouch and going up the stairs.
(-)
“Oh, no,” Avery mutters, when they turn the corner and see Black waiting outside their Common Room, leaning on the wall.
“Where’s Rosier when you need him?” Mulciber asks. Evan is their shield against Black’s out-of-control rages. Sometimes, at least.
Severus falters. This can’t be good.
“What’s he doing all alone, without his pride?” Avery inquires, as if Severus would know.
“Maybe he wants to talk to Regulus?” Mulciber throws a guess.
Avery snorts. “More likely, he wants to twist Regulus’ neck.”
Black noticed them, and now he’s walking towards them.
Severus wants to turn back and flee. But he can’t look a coward. Though, really, he could, because he wouldn’t be the only one.
“Scamper off,” Black barks at Mulciber and Avery.
“Look, Black,” Avery says. “This is our territory-“
Black moves his hand to his pocket, and Mulciber turns around and leaves without further fuss. Avery flinches, taking his wand out.
Black retrieves an apple from the pocket of his robe, smirking at Avery. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Leave, or I will make you. I wanna have a talk with Snivellus here.”
Of course, Avery abandons him.
Severus has friends, but none of them are willing to stick up for him. Not when Black is concerned.
Because no matter that Black is disowned, that he’s a runaway, he’s still a Black; members of the Twenty-Eight would never stick up for a half blood and risk a fight with another member of the Twenty-Eight.
Or maybe it’s just because they are as terrified of Black as anyone with half a brain would be.
“What do you want?” Severus asks Blacks’ tie, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.
“It was amusing to see you dance around benches and chairs the past week,” Black says, and Severus feels his face flush. “Watching you squirm around in Potions last Monday made me so hard I had to walk with a bag strapped to my lap when I got out.”
Severus’ brain malfunctions.
Is this mockery? The truth? What does Black want?
“I have your cloak,” Severus says, because he has to say something.
“Keep it. You look like you need it, what with the rags you’re wearing.”
Severus finally meets his eyes. He feels his face twisting into a sneer. “I’ll burn it.”
A smirk. “Do you sleep with it? Do you rub yourself on it?“
“Piss off, Black!” Severus tries to walk past him, but Black blocks his path.
“Don’t be so uptight,” he dares to say, as if it’s all a joke to him. It probably is. “I come in peace.”
Severus snorts so hard he wakes up a portrait.
Black’s smirk widens. He produces a vial from his pocket. He holds it out to Severus, who knows better than to touch anything Black offers.
Black bites into his apple. “Take it.”
“What is it?”
“A potion.”
“Clearly,” Severus snaps at him. “I don’t recognise it.”
“Oh, no! Can this be real? The grand potion master in the making doesn’t recognise a potion-“
Severus takes out his wand.
Black laughs; he raises the hand with the apple in a gesture of surrender.
Black never surrenders. Ever.
“It’s a pain relief potion.”
“It doesn’t look like one. And why would you-“
“It’s for internal use.” Black winks at him. “Not something one finds for sale. Not in reputable stores, at least. As if to why, I believe it’s self explanatory.”
What is wrong with this man?
What isn’t?
“What do you want, Black?”
“With that tight little arse of yours, you’ll be sure to need it in the future. Consider it as an apology for leaving you stranded there without your wand. I couldn’t be arsed to retrieve it.” He shrugs. “I was pissed out of my mind.” Another shrug. “Though you could have been less of a drama queen and came back with me, instead of whining like a little bitch.”
Maybe Severus can actually understand how one can be pushed to murder. Is this how Black felt on that full moon night? Did he feel this urge to wrap his fingers around Severus’ neck and squeeze the life out of him? Because that’s what Severus wants.
Unlikely. If Black had that urge, he’d have done it. He’s not one to keep his urges in check.
“Leave me the fuck alone, you bloody menace!” Severus points his wand at him.
Black takes another bite of his apple.
“Does Evan have that tiny of prick that you can’t handle a bigger one?”
“What?”
Black shrugs. “The way you acted, like a shy bloody virgin that never took a cock before.”
“What does Rosier have to do with-“
“Well, he’s fucking you, isn’t he?” Black narrows his eyes, studying Severus’ face intensely. “ Though judging by your expression, I suppose he might not?”
“Of course not- where have you- what?”
“That’s the talk. That he’s fucking you. Both he and Avery. Why else would they be so cozy with a half-blood, little blood purists, Death Eaters in the making that they are?”
Severus feels faint. The talk? People are saying that about him?
Isn’t it enough he’s the butt of many jokes, due to the Marauders, and because he’s dirt poor and all his belongings are in an awful state? Now he’s a whore, too?
“They’re my friends.”
Black snorts. “Slytherins and friends. What kind of friends would abandon you whenever I ask them to? You mean nothing to them, just a tight hole-“
“The type of friends that don’t want to upset a fucking Black. Remember when your bother got into an altercation with Bryce? Your father strolled in and had Bryce expelled! Expelled!”
Black’s face closes off at the mention of his father, and Severus instantly regrets bringing him up, what with the man being on his death bed and all.
Clearly it affects Black. That’s why he was more unhinged than normal that night.
But he’s an excellent actor, when he wants to be. Black wipes out the tiny glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes as soon as it appeared.
“So who are you fucking, then?”
“No one,” Severus hisses at him, before he realises what he’s saying. “I acted like I never taken a cock because I haven’t.”
It sinks in, what just came out of his stupid mouth, when Black loses the little colour his pale face holds.
It is almost comical, the way shock blooms over those aristocratic features.
“Forget it,” Severus says, hastily. “It’s none of your fucking business. It was a mistake, and we can pretend it never happened. It never did, as far as I am concerned. You were too drunk to even make sense of your surroundings and I was… cursed with a lust hex.”
Damn it, he’ll stick with that story.
Blacks looks horrified.
Severus shoves past him, and this time Black doesn’t try to stop him.
(-)
He’s walking to the library, nose in a book, when a hand suddenly shoots out from a broom closet and pulls him inside it.
He shouts, going for his wand, but strong fingers wrap around his wrists.
“Calm down. It’s me.”
“Why would that calm me down?” Snape demands, staring up at Black.
The only light comes from the cracks in the broom closet’s door.
“I just want to talk, alright? I’ll let you go, now. Don’t be an idiot. Wands stay away.”
And then Black actually releases his wrists and takes a step backwards.
Well... half a step: it’s a broom closet, not like there is much space, especially not for an animal the size of him.
Severus feels a tremor run through him, but he attempts to sound unaffected. “Black, we only have five months to go and then we’ll never have to see each other again. Five months. Can’t you leave me alone?”
Why are you trying to behave rationally with an insane bloke?
Indeed, Black acts as if Severus hadn’t spoken at all. “I didn’t know,” he says. “That you- how was I supposed to know? Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“Tell you? When exactly would I have told you? Between smashing my head into the wall and punching me-”
“You punched me first!” Black exclaims. “You cursed me first.”
It’s Severus’ turn to ignore what’s being said. “Or was I supposed to tell you when you were forcing yourself on me?”
Black recoils.
There. You sick, disturbed psychopath.
“I didn’t force myself-”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep easy,” Severus cuts over him.
“I didn’t force you,” Black insists. “You were hard. I didn’t even think- how could you believe I’d ever think of you like that?”
The hurt those words bring must shine on his face, even in this poor light, because Black alters his voice to something softer. “I mean, what with our history, I wouldn’t have imagined- I was only trying to beat you up.”
Only trying to beat me up. How nice.
“You’re the one that got hard. I didn’t force it on you. You started it.”
Severus feels his face heat up. He wants to tell the moron that having an erection isn’t an invitation to get fucked.
“You must be deaf, as well as dumb, because I told you to stop. I begged you-” Severus’ voice gets too high for his liking.
“I thought it was like a game. A fantasy.”
“What?”
From all the nonsensical things to come out of Black’s mouth…
“People do that sometimes. Pretend they don’t want-Snape, I didn’t-” Black stops, and it’s not often one hears him stumbling over words.
In fact, Severus had never witnessed it before.
“I was very drunk.”
“What a great excuse.”
“I was!”
“I’m sorry, your Honour, I was drunk, so I killed someone, but I didn’t mean to,” Severus mocks him.
“Huh? You honour?”
Oh, bloody purebloods.
“Never mind,” he mutters.
“It’s not an excuse. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
“You never think, period.”
Severus rather thinks it was the rage induced by his family drama that made Black so unhinged that night, and the alcohol was just the cherry on top. But he knows better than to say it.
Everyone in the school knows better than to mention his family around him. Even Potter doesn’t do it, or at least not in public.
“I shouldn’t have- I wouldn’t have acted that way if I knew you were a virgin.”
Severus spreads his arms, or as much as it is possible in the limited space. “You shouldn’t assault people, no matter their virginity status, Black. If someone says no, it’s no. But you don’t know that word, do you? Haven’t heard it too often.”
“Piss off, Snivellus!” Black growls, and yeah, about time he reverted to his normal, aggressive self. “I’m trying to apologise here!”
“You can take your apology and shove it up your arse!” Severus hisses at him.
The enclosed space fills with volatility, but Severus doesn’t go for his wand. It’s useless so close to Black, and him moving might be just the thing to tip Black over into senseless rage.
He holds his gaze, as steady as he can, and Black finally kicks the door open and steps out-
“What are you doing there, Black?”
Severus groans. That’s Montgomery’s voice, who takes his Prefect duties rather too seriously.
He takes out his wand, hastily, and casts a camouflage charm on himself, blending with the brooms and the wall.
The last thing he wants is someone finding him in a closet with Black.
“Why don’t you come inside with me, and I’ll show you,” Black’s growl comes. His footsteps sound heavy on the hallway, and Severus can imagine him stalking towards Montgomery, eyes glinting.
Lighter footsteps scurrying away, and Severus knows Montgomery had made the wise choice and retreated.