Archive of Our Own

Augustus watched with unlimited patience as the house elf poured tea into two chinese porcelain mugs. Sitting in a baby blue armchair that was probably older than anything else in that office, he seemed to bask in the comfort of a throne— which, taking their family tree into account, might not be a stretch. At one point, perhaps that simple armchair with gold detailing could have been some sort of royal seat. Severus wouldn't be surprised— many things in the mansion belonged to kings.

Many things in the mansion had also tried to devour him in the beginning— Severus presently knew that it had been his own doing, that at the time he hated himself and the blood of Tobias within him. The first time he stepped into the mansion's gardens, some plants tried to pull him out immediately, the roots clinging to his skinny ankle— as if Severus himself wanted to escape, as if his subconscious knew back then what he would become. Severus remembered screaming so loudly that even Eileen, who was rarely surprised by anything, seemed startled. She was the one who had saved him— she who had knelt in the mud and soiled the only good dress she still had, who had wrestled with the roots and cut her palms to free him.

Maybe everything Severus had done up until then was because of her. All the etiquette lessons and nonsense about being cultured and understanding about the world and respecting ridiculous hierarchies and—and being who he was trying to be all the time, probably. All about being a Pureblood even though he wasn't, in fact, one. All so his mother could live like a person again, all so his mother could have good clothes and sleep comfortably and have something to eat and not have to work— not have to be beaten in every way every day. 

When they got the letter that winter, 1971, Severus was impossibly delighted at the prospect of being eleven and going to Hogwarts. He remembered the stories his mother told, all the fun classes and the knowledge and the possibility of using magic all the time— he remembered wanting to grow up faster, wanting to be bigger and smarter, being able to get out of that little house full of holes and ghosts and demons and being able to live a different life. He remembered looking at the cross nailed over his door and wishing he could replace it with a Slytherin flag.

But the letter that came first was not the one from Hogwarts, but from Corvus Augustus Prince.

Severus remembered collecting the letter from a beautiful owl with snow-white fur. She looked at him as if she knew far more about him than Severus could ever imagine, and flew away without waiting for any reply. Tobias wasn't home— he'd never been home recently, from what Severus could tell, which wasn't exactly a bad thing, not if it meant he could sleep at night and not be bothered by screaming and sometimes being subjected to violence himself. Severus thought it was a letter from Hogwarts, even if the crest and name were unfamiliar. He told his mother that the time had come, then. 

Eileen took the letter from his hand the moment she recognised the Prince family crest. Severus remembered the trembling hands, the wide eyes, the— the hope. The relief. The way she looked like life was back at her body. He remembered the desire, too, and that look in his mother's dark eyes stayed with Severus for many, many years. Because that was the same look he held every time he saw his own reflection— a look of a person who begs all the time, who desires all the time, who devours himself because he has no more to devour, because he can no longer devour anything. 

The arrangement was settled more quickly than Severus had expected. When Eileen explained to him a little about her family, Severus was excited to think that they could leave Cokeworth and live in a better place. A place where only the two of them could enter, and Tobias could never get his hands on them again. A place with a warm bed for Severus, and plentiful food, and beautiful gardens, and paintings that would talk to him and answer any questions Severus might have about magic. A place with other wizards like them.

A place where he would be important— Eileen said. A place where he would be the most important boy in the whole world.

Severus accepted, but without knowing exactly what he was accepting, because the promises were divine— they were promises of a dream, of a part of him that could only exist when he closed his eyes. He accepted because his mother seemed to need him to accept it too, and because he would do anything to make her have any kind of sparkle in her eyes again. He accepted it because if he became important, if he was someone capable of anything other than being hated, then he could give Lily presents, he could be a real friend and make her happy too.

He wanted to be able to say that now that he was older and knew what he had accepted, now that he had been moulded into an heir who is loved and hated at the same time, who is the object of devotion as well as being ignored at all times— someone who is desired, but never because of who he is, but because of what he might one day be— Severus wanted to be able to say that he would have denied the deal. He wanted to be able to say that he thought himself more important than being a Prince, that he would rather have autonomy and be loved for anything other than the blood and magic that ran within him.

But it would be a lie— Severus wouldn't have refused anyway. Anything to get his mother out of Cokeworth. Anything to be loved, even if it was a lie. Anything to have people look at him, even if they couldn't see him. Anything to have a bed to sleep in, and food to eat, and clothes to wear, and people to talk to— frames, distant cousins, uncles who pretend to like him. Anything to be Severus Prince and not Severus Snape.

Anything, even Lily. 

"I imagine it's not necessary to say out loud, Severus, but I'm very disappointed in what you've done." Augustus said in a low, polite tone, always with that cordiality that seemed to have been forced on him since childhood. He raised his arm and took the mug, sipping from the still steaming tea as if the heat didn't bother him. Augustus was not a young man, however he appeared to be no older than fifty. His eyes were blue, but not a light blue, a grey, sullen blue. But his hair was black, as black as Severus'. "I thought that if Beauxbatons weren't to your taste, then that Durmstrang would teach you better, what with their bias about the Dark Arts and all, but, ah—Of course that's not the problem."

It turned out that Severus' blood was special— and wasn't it jarring, perhaps, that a boy like him had something special? Even if he was a half-blood, even if his mother had tainted their entire bloodline with the presence of a muggle, Severus still proved to be a formidable wizard. More formidable, in fact, than the former heir of the Prince family— a cousin of Severus's who was always ill, and who rarely appeared at the manor. Eileen told him that in Pureblood families, it is not abnormal for children to be sickly and have certain weaknesses. Blood relationships are not abnormal in such families, and they do cause certain damage.

Ever since he was a child, Severus had shown himself to be an accomplished Legilimens and Occlumens. It was the Prince heritage, really, because the whole family had an easy time mastering the skill. But with him it was different— the entire family felt Severus' presence within them after he discovered magic. Like a parasitic creature, their thoughts, their weaknesses, their emotions— Severus could have everything, could read everything, could know everything. And unconsciously, playing like a boy who thinks he just has an overly fertile imagination, he would rearrange the memories of his family members, confuse their memories— control their thoughts.

That's how Augustus knew about him, of course. Because the little boy invaded his mind even so far away, without even knowing who he was. It wasn't about Severus' power, or maybe not just about that— it was about the blood, about the Prince family magic that had chosen him. And when magic chooses a wizard, when something beyond an heir's ability to simply choose his next pupil manifests itself, few things can be ignored— and to the unhappiness of many in the Prince family, Severus Snape was someone incapable of being ignored.

Severus Snape. Half-blood. They tried to eat him in the first week.

But that was before— before, when he was young and innocent and full of hope. When he thought he was going to be important because people were kind, not because he was powerful and was going to be their future lord. Before— when he dreamed of being able to invite Lily to visit his new home, and be able to give her everything she wanted, and teach her magic. But Lily was muggleborn. They could accept Severus— because they had no choice, really— but Lily, no, Lily was too much.

The Princes didn't really share the irrational hatred that most Pureblood families had towards muggles— oh, no, they were too good, too Light, too benevolent, for that. They just didn't want anyone like that inside the mansion— and Severus learned very early, in fact, that even though he became the heir, that didn't automatically make the people in there more accepting of him. And perhaps that was for the best. The ancient magic of the mansion accepted him better now, or maybe Severus just accepted himself better, despite the constant suffering he inflicted on himself, but that didn't mean Lily would feel or be safe there.

"Severus, I thought you understood the need, understood why I decided to send you to these schools." Augustus sniffled, watching the young boy sitting opposite him. Severus had learned over the years everything etiquette can teach, and he had learned it very well. He knew when to speak, how to speak, and, sometimes, why not to speak. "I could not subject the family name to scorn so soon. You knew nothing about customs, about families. You needed to be trained away from here."

Severus wanted to go to Hogwarts as soon as he realised what the people in the mansion wanted from him. Just like in Cokeworth, he wanted to escape. But Augustus wouldn't allow it—he wasn't yet an heir they could show to wizard society. The letter bearing Albus Dumbledore's name arrived, and was burned soon after. In the same year that he was supposed to begin his studies at Hogwarts, Augustus sent him to Beauxbatons, where he learned to behave himself and was rigidly punished every time he made a mistake.

Later, when Severus began to complain— when he began to really behave like an heir, and learn to demand things, he insisted on leaving Beauxbatons. The people at Beauxbatons were kind, but not in a truly tender way. They looked upon him as a new toy, an exotic creature, and every time Severus tried to approach someone, they repelled him. They were afraid of him— afraid the rumours were true, that he had a special ability that allowed him to read people's minds.

And he could, in fact. During the holidays, Augustus trained him, and he became good at occlumency and legilimency in less than two years. It was natural to him. Everything related to magic, in fact, came easily to Severus. He was intelligent and dedicated, and his studies were a big part of the reason he hadn't snapped before with all the pressure that being an heir required. But Severus never tried to hack into the minds of any of his classmates—he never even thought of anything like that, for fear of being seen back. Afraid that someone else might also be able to access his mind through that invasion.

Augustus moved him to Durmstrang the following year in hopes of appeasing his growing desires. Severus was not yet the heir he wanted— there was, apparently, still much he needed to learn—, and Augustus had hoped that the teachings at Durmstrang would entertain Severus longer— that was the only school of magic, after all, that studied in detail about the Dark Arts, and Severus had always been very interested in the subject. But the students at Durmstrang were even worse than the students at Beauxbatons— they all knew that Severus, despite being heir Prince, was a half-blood, and they hated him for it.

Normally, no muggleborn or half-blood could study there, as the school had a strict policy, but the Prince family was still one of the most important families in the wizarding world, and there was nothing to stop Augustus from getting what he wanted. 

Severus hated the three years he spent at Durmstrang. None of the students had the courage to do anything to him, because they also knew Severus' surname, as well as the abilities he had. But people didn't look at him either—people didn't talk to him, didn't touch him, didn't address him, didn't seem to acknowledge that he existed. The teachers treated him with exaggerated cordiality, and there was always a larger space wherever Severus wanted to go— an empty space full of seats, full of beds without owners, full of books without readers. 

He felt like a ghost. People knew he was there, but they didn't take the time to see him. And for a long time, while in Durmstrang, Severus tried to convince himself that he was better off this way. That any kind of relationship would only slow him on the path to becoming the perfect heir, and that he didn't need people to look or talk or talk or—or love him. He didn't need the touch, the smiles, the camaraderie, the banter, the will to be alive—he just needed to be Severus Prince, and that alone would put him over the top.

The monster inside him began to grow like that— because of his ignorance. That ugly little thing that was born out of Severus' desire to convince himself that he didn't need to be loved. And the monster grew, grotesque and hungry and cruel— he would walk the halls of Durmstrang and when people ignored him, Severus would smile victoriously to try to mask the fact that inside he felt less and less human. When people turned away from him during meals and the spaces beside him grew larger, Severus pretended to be unaffected when in fact his nails dug into his pale skin and marked red half-moons.

He would hold his own hands, tightly against each other— and hug his own arms when he went to sleep, trying to imitate the touch of another human being. He would wrap himself in the richest, warmest blankets, and pretend to be back inside Eileen's womb, when he was still part of someone and therefore capable of being something other than that attention-hungry, affection-starved creature who pretended to be human. To Severus, who pretended to be a cynic, who walked the halls of Durmstrang as if everyone else present were nothing but insects, his own desires were his greatest humiliations.

So he wanted to leave— again, he demanded that Augustus move him from school. Severus didn't necessarily ask to go to Hogwarts, because he didn't care anymore. There was nothing in the world that was big enough to fill the great void inside him, not even the dreams of a little Severus Snape full of hope. But Augustus wouldn't listen to him— and Severus had already learned too well, perhaps, how to be an heir. Severus, in fact, was as close as you could call a perfect heir, and he would use that to his own advantage.

Albus Dumbledore received a letter in 1976, informing him that the heir Prince requested to start school. Augustus Prince received a letter the same week informing him that, if desired, Severus Prince could study at Hogwarts, and that they would need to adjust a few things before the school year began, if Severus was indeed transferred to the school.

"But I suppose I should be happy, perhaps." Augustus sighed, used to Severus' silence. "What you did was perfectly Slytherin, and the hat confirmed something I should have known already."

Augustus was, naturally, enraged when he discovered what Severus had done. But he didn't punish him— because punishments were rare for Severus at this age, who had already mastered the art of being a praised heir, and it was shameful that an heir like him still received any kind of punishment being so old and so— so perfect. 

"Your classes start next week." Augustus informed, appearing disinterested. But he looked into Severus' eyes as he said this, perhaps trying to find some kind of reaction, some kind of acknowledgement of the kindness he was doing, in allowing Severus to choose for himself. Augustus found nothing. "I expect you to behave yourself this time. And it's only to be expected, really, after everything that's happened. You'll probably be one of the only wizards in history to have studied at all three of Europe's schools of witchcraft."

"Nothing more fitting for an heir to a family like ours." Severus replied politely. A small smile formed on his lips, and Augustus couldn't ignore how Severus sounded like Eileen when he acted that way. The two of them were terribly stubborn. 

"I suppose." Augustus acquiesced, albeit grudgingly. "I am surprised that Dumbledore has accepted your transfer. It is unusual for students to begin studying at Hogwarts in their sixth year."

"Albus Dumbledore understands, perhaps, that I have more to offer than just the strangeness of having a student who changes schools so much." Severus shrugged.

Augustus watched him for a few seconds, and sighed again. The boy had learned to wear a hard, impenetrable shell, and he no longer allowed himself to be fragile in front of anyone. Augustus almost felt guilty— but he knew that wouldn't bring him any sympathy. Severus Prince was his heir, and it was good that he was so hard to read and fool. It was all Augustus could ask for, really. But still, there was a side of him that was greater than the weight of having a family like his— a side that loved Eileen, despite her running away from home. A side that wanted to be a grandfather, not Corvus Augustus Prince.

But Severus had already turned away, becoming what one would expect from a person in his position. Augustus could see his own reflection when he looked at Severus, and silently hoped that someday someone would be able to quench the immensity that harboured within his grandson. For the moment, however, Severus would go to Hogwarts— and who knows, maybe by allowing that, Augustus could give him any kind of comfort.

Severus had seen her on the first day, while a Slytherin student was giving him a tour of the school. 

Lily still had the same gentle green eyes and the same long, red hair, bright as fire. She had grown up, of course, but they had both grown up— they were two completely different people now. Severus saw her first, as he walked towards the infirmary. She was with two other Gryffindor classmates, chatting animatedly about something. 

For some reason, seeing Lily hurt— after so long, Severus thought her presence would soothe that growing emptiness inside him, but when he finally found her after all these years, the statement that Lily was fine without him only made Severus more unsure. It's not like he expected her life to be drastic without him, but Lily barely noticed him there— she only noticed his presence when one of her classmates saw him looking and nudged Lily, probably more scared of him than anything.

People at Hogwarts were afraid of him too, but Severus had expected this— people were always afraid of him. And Severus understood, really. Because while he didn't like being repelled, he would also be afraid to be around a person who could at any moment access his mind. Severus tried, several times, to explain that this was not something random, and that he had control of his own magic— but for some people, it was enough that he had the ability to do it, and that he was a Prince, for Severus to be suspicious.

But at Hogwarts people at least acknowledged that he was there. Some students even chatted with him, mostly Pureblood and Slytherins, obviously. Augustus mentioned that this was to be expected—no family would want to be on the bad side of the Prince's, and Severus, as heir, would likely be the object of constant flattery. It didn't matter that he was actually half-blood and was tarnishing the Prince lineage, just the fact that Severus was so skilled was enough to silence all criticism of him.

So people weren't afraid of him, they even talked to him— but it was only the first day, and Severus hadn't hoped he would be able to make friends with anyone. He hoped he could reconnect with Lily— he hoped she would remember him, at least. But seeing her there in the hallway, so happy, so alive— Severus almost felt afraid. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, or to treat him differently because of who he was now. Lily was probably the only person in his life who had ever loved him.

And when she turned and widened her eyes, Severus almost wanted to run— almost wanted to hide among the tapestries hanging in the hallway, wishing his body were invisible like a ghost's, so that his shame would never be palpable again. He could handle any rejection, but not Lily's. Because even after so many years, he still cared for her dearly. Severus could never contact her, not after he was accepted into the mansion, and for years he wondered if Lily thought about him.

"Sev?" she whispered, tentatively, as if he—as if he could have been the one to forget her!

"Lily." he sighed, a little relieved, and she moved closer.

"It's really you." Lily smiled, watching him curiously. "I heard—I heard people talking in the halls that a new boy had come in, and I was curious. They talked about the Prince heir, but never mentioned—well, I remember you told me that your grandfather's name was Augustus Prince, and I got thoughtful—but you're here! It's really you!" she exclaimed, pleased. 

"I thought you didn't remember me anymore." Severus muttered, smiling a little too. 

Lily widened her eyes again, and then made a face, "Sev, you're the one who taught me everything about magic!"

And that— that admission, the ease with which Lily made Severus a part of her, the ease with which she admitted his importance— that made him feel like a person for the first time in years. He could almost feel his heart beating inside his body again, his blood coursing through his veins and not that nonsense the people at the mansion called talent. How long had it been since someone had given him a place to be something? Recently, the only place Severus held in people's lives was that of a pawn, a little thing full of power and shame. But not for Lily.

"Lily, you remain kind." he whispered, strangely moved.

Lily laughed sonorously at the compliment, perhaps a little embarrassed, giving him a gentle slap on the shoulder. Severus felt the warmth of her hand come and go, and almost reached out to touch it again, craving that momentary comfort full of tenderness and affection. Currently not even Eileen touched him anymore, too busy reconnecting with the life she'd left behind when she married Tobias—she didn't always have time for Severus, really. But Lily was there, and Lily apparently still wanted to touch him, still— still liked him!

"I could show you the rest of the school, if you want." Lily suggested, looking at the Slytherin prefect as if asking his permission as well. But in her eyes you couldn't see the normal passivity of someone asking for something, but rather the defiance of someone who wouldn't take no for an answer.

The boy opened his mouth to say something, probably to deny it, but Severus was quicker, "I'd love to!"

"Well, we won't be much longer then." Lily offered her arm, directing a small smile at the prefect, who stared at them with a frown. 

Severus decided to ignore them, certain that he wasn't the least bit interested in any nonsense and rivalry between the houses of Hogwarts. He no longer had any spirit of belonging to Slytherin like he had when he was younger, and after going through two schools, Severus honestly didn't really feel at home anywhere— not even at the mansion, where everything he had was.

The boy, Mulciber, gritted his teeth, but let them go.

It was terrible to have something back— terrible to momentarily feel the satisfaction of being wanted, and then to sleep in cold sheets immediately afterwards. Severus wished he could spend all his time at Hogwarts with Lily, but it was clear that couldn't happen. Not only were they from different houses, but they were also different people— in every meaning. Lily was a Gryffindor girl, muggleborn. Severus was a Slytherin boy, half-blood— with a Pureblood status, but a half-blood anyway. For some reason, that separated them more than he could comprehend.

But when she could, Lily kept him company. She was still the same good-hearted, sharp-thinking girl as before, but somehow more talented and even smarter. It was as if her magic, much like his, had no limits of blood or generations and family ties— the two of them were simply competent, and if Lily had been born of some similar family to his, she could surely have the status of any Pureblood and be more successful than either of them.

Time with her was able to soften the constant desperate echoing from within Severus— but, and he admitted this with a volatile shame, he still scratched at his own body seeking any kind of sensation every night, searching for any kind of touch that indicated need in place of simple comfort. Severus felt infinitely bruised, as if all the years spent in the cold mansion and distant schools had indeed moulded him forever into that silly, sensitive creature. He felt like vocalising to Lily how he felt, explaining that her touch was lovely and memorable and important, but he was afraid— so afraid.

To be seen was also terrible. To be understood and heard and accepted— to be loved back, after so long pretending not to need to be, it was all almost like a betrayal. A betrayal with himself. Because Severus had promised himself that he would never feel bad about being empty again, but that he would accept that he was that— that hungry monster who would never really feel satiated, and who would try to devour any sign of the slightest affection, never satisfied. But sometimes Lily made him want to feel for real— to admit what he was, and what he felt, and Severus was afraid.

Once he tried— tried to tell her that he was no longer a person, that he no longer felt human, and parts of him had died in Cokeworth, in Severus Snape, in the desires to go to Hogwarts and belong to Slytherin. That in the absence of him, of the person who was supposed to be inside him, Severus became more and more empty and more and more sad— and that she sometimes occupied a space inside him, but only in dreams, when he closed his eyes and visited the past where he was still human, but Lily didn't deserve it— Lily didn't deserve to be subjected to him.

Sometimes Severus felt like he was destroying himself so that he wouldn't let anyone else do it instead—so that no other expectation would knead him, so that no other relative would ask him to chew a certain way, or to dress in certain clothes, or to read certain books. So that he would be nothing and feel equally empty, so that he would never feel pain again.

"Sev, do you know why—oh, you guys surprised me!" Lily muttered suddenly.

Severus looked up, searching for what had surprised her. They were in a tree that stood right in front of the black lake, sitting with books and other papers around them. Severus needed help in his Transfiguration paper, and Lily was apparently one of the best in the class. When he lifted his gaze, he noticed an especially large shadow on top of them, and stared at the boys standing in front him and Lily. The Marauders— that was what Malfoy had called them once, when Severus had asked who had made a prank at the Slytherin dorm.

“Hullo Lily, Prince.” Remus Lupin greeted them with a small smile.

"Hi Remus." she smiled, tilting her head. "Can we help you with something?"

"If your help counts as a date, Lily, then I'll accept it without a second thought!" James Potter replied, smiling. Lily grimaced, not the least bit surprised by what he said.

Severus thought about scolding him, because it wasn't the first time he'd noticed Lily getting annoyed at what James Potter said, but before he could open his mouth, he noticed Sirius Black's gaze on him. Severus knew who Sirius Black was— naturally, he was required to study all the heirs of all the houses in Europe, and he knew all the names and titles of each of them. Severus doubted, however, that Sirius Black knew anything about him, but that didn't really bother him—Severus didn't know much about himself, anyway.

Sirius Black was handsome. He had a beauty of quick effect, so that anyone could immediately realise his importance—his worth. Severus thought he looked very much like his father, Orion, whom he had met before in person, when Augustus had taken him to an important dinner party. Sirius Black was also apparently talented in magic, but Lily told him that she thought him a real troublemaker—and he had an especially severe feud with Slytherin too.

But Sirius Black stood there staring at him with— with something. He didn't seem to have immediately hated Severus despite him being from Slytherin, and that was— that was a surprise. The grey eyes analysed him in silence, and there was something within the vastness of them that spoke to Severus' natural desire to know more of the world that ignored him.

"Sev— Sev, you can speak French, can't you?" Lily tugged at the sleeve of his uniform, trying to get his attention.

"Yes, yes." Severus looked away from Sirius Black. "Why?"

"See, Potter, of course he can speak French— he studied at Beauxbatons, what did you expect him to speak in France, english?!" Lily complained, and James Potter gave him a weird look, almost as if he resented Severus for something.

Lily and James continued to bicker, and Severus found himself trying to blend in with the landscape in the background, silent and static, nervous in the presence of so many people, so much life. The rest of the Marauders sat around them, each busy with something different, seemingly used to Lily and James' silly arguments. But Severus wasn't— none of it was normal to him, none of it had been part of his life before. He had no friends, never had any kind of group of people his age that he could share those types of moments with.

Sirius Black sat down next to him, and suddenly held out an apple.

"Hungry?" he asked, politely. His grey eyes stared at Severus in that same strange way of before.

Severus stared at the pale hand extending the ripe fruit to him. The long fingers, the well-cut and maintained nails, the delicacy and aristocracy with which he moved— and Severus salivated, embarrassed and hungry, but not for the apple. That gesture, that small mercy, for some reason awoke something inside him that had until then been behaving better in Lily's presence. That same thirst for something he couldn't—he didn't deserve to have. 

The monster roared suddenly, as if he recognised Sirius Black somehow, and Severus reached out his hand too— a hand that looked like Sirius', but was hiding beneath the skin a mean and cruel creature— and accepted the apple, "Thank you."

Sirius smiled, just for Severus.

"You're welcome."

Severus sighed, feeling the cold wind hit him against his face. When he looked down, he found only the grass and trees, while the moon minimally illuminated the grounds of Hogwarts. 

He shouldn't be there in the astronomy tower— he shouldn't be in several places recently, really, but he shouldn't especially be there after curfew. But the prefects wouldn't stop him— they didn't seem to have the courage to say anything to Severus, afraid that he might be able to do something with their memories. The rumours had started to run harsher after he was seen with Lily, and Augustus had already mentioned in letters that he was worried about Severus' choices, but he wouldn't give her up— not again.

"If you're not careful, you'll end up falling." 

Severus looked away from the trees, turning alarmed to the owner of the voice. He found Sirius Black and a smirk.

"There is a ward— um, there is a barrier here." Severus muttered, awkwardly. "No one can fall through."

"How do you know?" Sirius frowned, moving closer. He stopped beside Severus, staring at him curiously, unashamedly. 

"I can—I can feel it?" Severus whispered, looking away.

"Oh." Sirius muttered, agreeing. "You're sensitive to magic, aren't you? My father mentioned something like that."

"Sort of." Severus nodded, returning to his distraction with the trees. "I am sensitive to ancient magic."

Sirius was silent for a few seconds, and then suddenly Severus felt his hand touching him— under the sleeve of his jumper, Sirius' fingers touching his wrist, gently massaging the bulging bone. Severus startled and stared at him wide-eyed, trying to pull away in reflex, but Sirius closed his hand around his wrist as if expecting the reaction. 

"What—"

"You're trembling." Sirius explained gently, with a smile. "Is it because of the school magic?"

No— Severus wasn't trembling because of that. He didn't know why he was shaking. It wasn't cold, despite the icy night wind, and he was used to lower temperatures anyway. Maybe he was just shivering from nervousness, from being near Sirius Black again, from— from remembering the apple, and his smile, and that small touch, in the understanding, attentive grey eyes. Maybe he was trembling with fear, too, because people—because Sirius Black was still approaching him, unafraid, and that was new and frightening.

"Maybe." Severus lied, unsure of what to say. Sirius withdrew his hand, and Severus almost— Severus almost whimpered, wanting to feel him again, but Sirius suddenly joined his body in his, both shoulder to shoulder, and his—his warmth was comfortable. "What are you doing?"

"You know how it is." Sirius whispered, looking at him with a certain pity. "You're like me."

"Like you?" Severus muttered, confused.

"Alone." Sirius explained, and then cracked a smile. "My father told me—he met you before, didn't he? He said you were quiet all night, and only spoke when necessary. He also told me that you have impeccable manners, and that you never—well, that doesn't matter much now. But I know you're like I've—I've seen you."

"You have so many friends." Severus muttered, confused.

Sirius almost laughed, "You know that's not what I'm talking about, Heir Prince."

"But you—" Severus crackled, incredulous. "You have so much life inside you."

"That doesn't make us any different." Sirius shrugged, and Severus continued to stare in that incredulous way. "Heir Prince, you—you overflow with everything you feel. The anguish is palpable. One look at you and I knew—we are both alike. Outcasts of our own family."

Severus blinked, surprised. He knew that relationships within the Black family were complicated, but Sirius had been praised during the dinner Orion had attended—and though he had also been criticised, that wasn't the least bit surprising. Perfect heirs don't exist, after all. Even Severus didn't always get it right.

"But your brother loves you." Severus muttered.

Sirius gave him a smile, "Your mother loves you too, no?"

"Ah—well, how do you know all this?" Severus asked.

"Theoretically, we're related." Sirius shrugged. "Cousins of cousins of cousins— ah, well, my mother heard all about it from your maternal aunt, alright? She told me that you—well, that you're talented and respected, but you're not—"

"Loved." Severus stated.

Sirius let out a sigh, "Loved." he confirmed. "Apart from your mother, of course. Your aunt apparently— apparently she has the impression that your mother loves you too much."

Severus smiled too, even if he doubted that statement a little. He knew Eileen loved him, but sometimes he thought—well, sometimes he thought he loved her more than she could ever love him. His own mother. It surprised him, however, that Sirius felt the same way he did—because the impression passed on by him couldn't be any different. Sirius was confident and smiling and strong— he talked to everyone and allowed himself to be loved and seemed to have no difficulty in giving back what they gave him. He seemed the complete opposite of Severus Prince.

"I'm not the person my parents need me to be." Sirius muttered, then shrugged. "And I never will be, I guess."

"I am the people my family needs me to be. All of them. All versions of the heir." Severus said, and then tilted his head. "I don't think that—well, maybe it's not about being the person people need us to be. Maybe it's something else."

Sirius nodded, and then smiled, "Maybe it's a lot more than what we see, isn't it?"

"The universe is blind to all our worries and griefs." Severus sighed. "No matter the reason—we're just not loved, aren't we? That may never change."

"I think you're wrong—" Sirius murmured, staring at him with a smile of unlimited kindness. "You and I are made of the same material as the universe, the same material as this tower, the same material as these books and all the other things. But we have consciousness, we have— we know what we are, and how we can and cannot act. But that doesn't change the fact that we are made of the universe, and since we are part of it just as it is part of us, then we should also be blind to these matters. But you care, and I care. And you want to be loved, just as I do. Then the universe must want the same. To be loved just as we want to."

Severus stared at him wide-eyed, and then— then all of a sudden it was as if that hole inside him had warped, as if he were made of liquid anguish, and a stone had been thrown to the surface, creating endless gentle ripples. Severus took a deep breath, suddenly aware of Sirius' touch, of his body glued to his, of the warmth, of the comfort—the notion that they were part of each other, much like they were part of the universe and the universe was part of them— and Severus— Severus had never thought like that, had never belonged to anyone in that way.

"You're not afraid of being seen." Severus said, and it sounded a lot like you're not afraid to be alone.

Sirius smiled some more, and agreed, "There's nothing wrong with being seen. People will love you anyway."

"People don't love creatures like me. This type of love doesn’t exist." Severus grumbled, stubbornly.

"It does." Sirius nodded. "Because I exist, and I love."

Severus gasped, and that— that thing inside him roared again. He hid between his own arms, propping them up against the railing of the tower and tucking his head between them, still feeling Sirius' warm body against his. Being seen was painful—it was agonising, and frightening, and Severus didn't want to find someone who, like him, was so important, but also so useless. A person made and moulded and nudged until he was something, until he was the idea of an idea—someone's hope, or another's only way out. 

Sirius touched his shoulders gently, in a clumsy but sensitive embrace, and whispered in Severus' ear.

"I have learned not to be polite about my pain. I annoy others. I cry and scream and make people see me—and then, people hug me, and touch me, and kiss me. And I feel good, even though it will always hurt. I'm living. You should live, too, Heir Prince."

Severus sobbed, and pressed his arms against his head, "I don't feel human anymore."

"Then I will make you human again." Sirius promised.

And Sirius didn't leave.

"You're Imogen— and Cordelia, and Desdêmona, and— and Portia—"

"All dead for love." Severus muttered, and Sirius smiled. "All cursed because of love."

"All alive because of love." Sirus agreed, and Severus tilted his head, as if pondering something.

"You are Icarus." he said suddenly.

Sirius directed an amused smile at him, "Are you calling me insane?"

"You're not afraid." Severus explained. "You would set the world on fire if you had to— if you wanted to."

The two were silent then. The gentle afternoon sun swept over their bodies while they were lying on the grass. In the background, Lily and James were arguing once more, and Remus and Peter were reading the same adventure book.

"If I am Icarus, you are the sun."

"No— I would never burn you." Severus admitted, making Sirius smile.

"Then you are Patroclus." Sirius whispered, touching Severus' outstretched hand, taking it between his own fingers. 

Severus blushed, looking away. There was something about the mention of Patroclus' name that made him extremely embarrassed. "And you are Achilles." 

Sirius smiled, reaching out his arm to reach for Severus' face and take it between his hands.

The mist stretched across the garden of the Prince estate, but the beauty of the shapes carved into the plants was undeniable.

Sirius reached out, interlacing his fingers with Severus's—it was automatic, how they sought each other out, how glad they were to have each other's presence. They made their way through the small labyrinth, aware that there were eyes everywhere. Inside the mansion, Augustus Prince and Orion Black were chatting about amenities.

"Was it those plants that tried to throw you out of here?"

Severus denied, "No, those were always nice to me. The ones who tried to expel me were the ones next to the gates."

"At least they've stopped having evil intentions." Sirius muttered, then turned to Severus with a smile. "It comes to be pitiful, really, how you hated yourself, Heir Prince."

"I was afraid of myself—and of what I might do, I think. The plants just reacted to what I felt."

"The downside of being such a formidable wizard."

"Heir Black, you flatter me." 

Sirius directed him a bored look, and Severus laughed. They continued to walk through the garden, in silence, satisfied with the mere touch—with the mere realisation that for them, that was already more than enough. None of them had ever felt this way before—sufficient, wanted. It was different, perhaps, because they were reflections of similar realities. Of people who don't know how to be loved, but who desire it as fervently as a newborn who has just come into the world, wailing and screaming for love. 

They walked to the gates of the estate, when a house elf appeared to inform them that they were being requested. Then the two went back— hand in hand, reciting favourite parts of Shakespeare's works to each other. Then Sirius insisted that they return to the comparisons, because he always wanted to hear and see the way they felt in characters— that day Severus was Sibyl Vane, and Sirius was Basil Hallward. And then Severus was Juliet, and Sirius was Romeo.

One was the object of infinite love, the other was the person of absolute adoration.

"I always die in the end." Severus grumbled.

"I've died several times today." Sirius retorted. "And don't say it as if— as if the idea doesn't appeal to you. As if there is no love deeper, and more tragic, than that which kills and dies for its characters. You would die for Lily."

"And you would kill for James." 

Sirius smiled, "And you are a king."

"And you are a warrior."

Severus felt his hand being pulled away, and then his body collided against Sirius'. They tripped over each other, and fell into the damp grass of the garden. Severus whimpered at the surprise of the impact, but when he looked away, Sirius was staring at him with gentle eyes, charged with that vast immensity full of feelings that always surprised him—how Sirius could compare himself to him, Severus didn't understand. They were alike, he recognised it in the marks of loneliness they both bore, but Sirius was expressive and beautiful, while Severus saw himself as a weak, cowardly fool.

"I would die for you." Sirius admitted.

And he was right—to Severus, the admission of something so intense, that way of loving so genuine and desperate, was romantic and pleased him. It filled him, so that sentimentality let him feel, so that his heart beat harder, and more alive, and more loved and wanted. And when he looked at Sirius, Severus could almost tell that he could live a little longer—that he could smile once more, alone, in his own company, and not feel so lonely anymore.

"And I would kill for you."

"Heir Prince—"

"Ah, Sirius, you shouldn't be so formal. We're friends now."

"N-No, you don't understand, Sev— Heir Prince, I'm here formally because—"

"Sirius, you're scaring me. Did something happen?"

"By Circe, let me talk!" 

"I'm sorry, I didn't know that—"

"Heir Prince, I intend to court you formally, so if you can—if you can accept, that would be wonderful."

“Oh.”

“Yes. That.”

“Oh.”

Sirius kissed Severus's fingers, and then the Prince family ring, which now resided on his fingers constantly— almost as if it had bound itself to him. And then he moved up, kissing Severus's wrist, the inside of his arm, his shoulders, his neck— Severus gasped, and his stomach roared, always hungry, always wanting more and more and more.

"Darling." Sirius whispered, wrapping his legs around Severus' body, pinning him to the baby blue armchair, to the Prince throne. "Beloved."

"Sirius—"

"Hum, Severus." Sirius purred, satisfied. "Your hunger gives me purpose. I think I came to earth only to be desired by you."

Severus closed his eyes, threw his head back, his heart so full he thought it would explode. He was going to die, and he wouldn't be alone—and it wouldn't be crying, trying to hurt his own body hoping to feel something. He was going to die loving— dying loving the vast immensity of things and people that was Sirius Black.

"What would your grandfather say—what would he think, if he knew what you're doing to me now." Sirius whispered, kissing Severus' lips tenderly. "That you are loving me so much, and being loved back. What would he think— you, his heir, the perfect heir."

"Please—" Severus murmured, giddy with pleasure and desire.

"The house is murmuring with you, listen." Sirius was suddenly silent, and the magic that protected them from the rest of the world tinkled in satisfaction. "You're fucking perfect. You're mine." Sirius said shortly after, kissing Severus once more. 

Severus gasped against Sirius' mouth again, and let himself soak in his touch, touching him as if he needed him to breathe, and maybe sometimes he did. He hugged Sirius's body against his, and they lost themselves in the countless kisses, in the addictive movements of one mouth against the other, of the desperation of fingers that threaded into every corner of skin and muscle and bone—in an attempt to merge and blend and melt who they were and who they should be and who they could be and who they wanted to be.

In the ideas of perfect heirs and talented sons and in powerful wizards— and the salvation of being none of those things and at the same time holding all those positions. In Patroclus and Achilles. In Icarus and the Sun.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." Sirius whispered against his mouth, and died a little that day.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, the monster inside Severus roared louder, and he too collapsed, pulling Sirius' body against his, kissing him several times.