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The velvet cushions of the sofa had moulded themselves around Sirius Black years ago, mostly because Sirius had no concept of sitting normally. At that moment, he was hanging upside down over the armrest, long legs thrown over the back, completely absorbed in the glowing screen of his phone.
Severus sat beside him with the rigid posture of someone who had never willingly surrendered to furniture.
The television murmured quietly in the background, a documentary about prehistoric cephalopods playing to a man who had stopped watching it ten minutes ago.
Because Sirius’s phone had been making a noise.
Ping.
Ping.
Ping.
“You have been staring at that glowing rectangle for forty-five minutes,” Severus said.
Sirius didn’t look up. “It’s called Alchemy Arcana, Sev.”
“I am aware of what it is called. You have mentioned it approximately seventeen times.”
“It’s actually quite strategic.”
Severus turned his head slowly.
“Strategic.”
“Yes.”
“You are moving coloured symbols around a screen.”
“Alchemy symbols.”
“Coloured symbols.”
Sirius grinned.
“You’re just annoyed because you don’t have the patience for it.”
“I have brewed potions requiring months of preparation.”
Sirius finally looked over, amusement shining in his grey eyes.
“You’re interested.”
“I am observing a decline in your intellectual standards.”
“Sure.”
“I mean it. We don't have enough of it to lose.”
“Oi! My intellect is great!”
Sirius turned back to the game, happily tapping away.
A few minutes passed.
Then:
“Your catalyst placement is inefficient.”
Sirius stopped.
Slowly, he looked up.
“What?”
Severus kept his eyes firmly on the television.
“If you move the Solar Essence first, you trigger a chain reaction instead of wasting three turns.”
Silence.
Sirius’s smile grew.
“You were watching.”
“I was not.”
“You literally just gave me advice.”
“I was correcting an obvious mistake.”
“On a game you don’t care about.”
“Correct.”
Sirius laughed.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I am surrounded by incompetence. It is exhausting.”
Three days later, Sirius left his phone on the kitchen counter while answering the door.
The screen lit up.
A notification flashed.
Daily Challenge Expiring Soon.
Severus stopped.
He stared at it.
The blinking was irritating.
That was all.
It was not curiosity.
It was not interest.
It was certainly not because Sirius had left his game in the middle of an inefficient arrangement of elements that offended Severus on a deeply personal level.
With a sigh, Severus picked up the phone.
“Only because the notification is intolerable,” he muttered.
He opened the game.
The board was a disaster.
Sirius had wasted half his catalyst charges. His resources were scattered. His moves were painfully inefficient.
Severus frowned.
“Honestly.”
His thumb moved.
One combination.
Then another.
Then another.
The screen exploded into light.
PERFECT CLEAR.
Severus stared.
That was... satisfying.
Not enjoyable.
Satisfying.
There was a difference.
The game had a pattern. A system. It rewarded precision. It was not simply random clicking as Sirius had made it appear.
He played one more level.
Then another.
Then, when he heard Sirius returning, he immediately closed the app and placed the phone exactly where he had found it.
“You didn’t touch my phone, did you?” Sirius asked, picking it up.
“Why would I touch something that produces such an irritating noise?”
Sirius narrowed his eyes.
Then he looked at the screen.
A slow grin appeared.
“Sev.”
“No.”
“I got a Perfect Clear on the boss level.”
“Good for you.”
“I haven’t played that level yet.”
Silence.
“I merely corrected the arrangement of the pieces to stop the notification.”
“You corrected it?”
“Yes.”
“Into a perfect run?”
Severus looked away.
“The game was poorly designed.”
Sirius burst out laughing.
“Oh, you are in trouble.”
“I am not.”
“The Arcana has claimed you.”
“It has done nothing of the sort.”
The next day, Severus downloaded the game.
Not because he liked it. But, because he wanted to prove how pointless it was. At least, that was what he told himself.
He created an account.
He chose the username:
Prince_of_Potions
The first crack in Severus's carefully constructed façade appeared on a Tuesday morning.
Severus was humming.
Not loudly.
Not intentionally.
Just quietly, under his breath, while spreading marmalade onto his toast.
Sirius paused mid-bite.
Because Severus Snape did not hum.
He sighed. He muttered. He occasionally made sounds that suggested the universe itself had personally offended him.
But humming?
That was new.
Sirius tilted his head.
“Are you humming?”
The sound stopped instantly.
Severus continued spreading marmalade with the intense focus of a man performing delicate surgery.
“No.”
Sirius blinked.
“You definitely were.”
“I was not.”
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“Your thoughts have a tune now?”
Severus took a sip of tea.
“Yes.”
Sirius slowly smiled.
“Because it sounded suspiciously like the tune from my game”
Severus looked up.
Just for a second.
Too quickly.
“Does it?”
“You know the Alchemy Arcana theme.”
“It is difficult not to. You insist on playing it at all hours like a particularly enthusiastic child with a new toy.”
Sirius leaned back in his chair.
“Right.”
“Right.”
A pause.
“Most people who hate something don’t usually know the difficult bridge.”
Severus went still.
“What?”
Sirius grinned.
“Oh.”
A dangerous sparkle appeared in his eyes.
“You know the difficult part.”
“I have a mathematical mind. My brain recognises patterns.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is simply organising the noise so it can be ignored more efficiently.”
“Of course.”
“It is not interest.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“You implied it.”
Severus narrowed his eyes.
Sirius just smiled and returned to his breakfast.
But he filed that away.
The second thing was the phone itself.
Severus, who had once left his phone in the garden for three days and only found it because Sirius accidentally watered it, had suddenly become very attached to the thing.
It came everywhere.
The study.
The kitchen.
The sitting room.
Even the bathroom.
Which was strange.
Very strange.
One evening Sirius watched Severus place it on the bedside table.
Then pick it up.
Move it two inches.
Put it down.
Pick it up again.
Turn it face down.
Then turn it face up.
Sirius stared.
“Are you arranging your phone?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You just adjusted it five times.”
“It was not positioned correctly.”
“You’re treating it like a rare magical artefact.”
Severus gave him a withering look.
“You are being ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” Sirius smiled. “But I’m also right.”
A week later, it was because Severus had started disappearing.
“I require solitude,” Severus announced one evening.
Sirius looked up.
“You’ve said that three times today.”
“Yes.”
“And every time you’ve vanished for exactly twenty minutes.”
“I have things to do.”
“What things?”
Severus paused.
“Things.”
Sirius stared.
“That’s not an answer.”
“That is my answer.”
And then Severus swept away.
Which would have been convincing if Sirius hadn’t caught him returning twenty minutes later with the expression of a man who had either solved a difficult equation or committed a minor crime.
The real discovery came at four in the morning.
Sirius woke because the bed was vibrating. For a moment he thought Severus was having a nightmare.
Then he saw the glow.
A faint blue light was escaping from beneath the duvet.
The duvet had become a fortress. A Severus-shaped fortress. And from inside came the quiet, furious tapping of someone who was very definitely not sleeping.
Sirius watched for several seconds.
Then whispered:
“Sev.”
The tapping stopped. Completely. A suspicious amount of silence followed.
“Sirius?”
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
Sirius smiled into the darkness.
“Nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Because from here it looks like you’ve built yourself a little glowing cave.”
“I have not.”
“Are you summoning something?”
“No.”
“Because if you are, I’d like to point out we don’t have a permit for most things you summon.”
“I am not summoning anything.”
“Then why is the duvet glowing?”
Silence.
Then, very calmly:
“I was sorting out my lesson plans”
Sirius blinked.
“Lesson plans?”
“Yes.”
“At four in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“Under the covers?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Sirius had to bite his lip.
Because if he laughed too soon, Severus would retreat completely.
And honestly?
This was fascinating.
The next night, Sirius noticed Severus was even worse. The phone never left his side. Not once.
So the moment Severus went to the bathroom, Sirius moved.
He looked at the screen.
And froze.
Because there it was.
The leaderboard.
The username.
The rank.
Prince_of_Potions.
Sirius stared.
Then slowly grinned.
“Oh, Severus.”
Because this was not just playing.
This was obsession.
This was spreadsheets and strategy and probably some deeply serious analysis of imaginary magical ingredients.
And suddenly Sirius understood why Severus had been so defensive.
The man wasn’t hiding a dark secret.
He was hiding the fact that he had become better at Sirius’s silly game than Sirius himself.
Sirius put the phone down.
Then picked it back up.
No.
He needed a better plan.
"Where is it?" Severus asked, panicked.
He had returned from the bathroom to find his bedside table suspiciously vacant.
Sirius didn't even blink. He had already slid the phone beneath his pillow.
He let out a long, exaggerated yawn and reached over to click off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into a heavy, velvet darkness. "Where's what, darling? I was asleep."
Severus didn't move. He stood by the edge of the bed, and Sirius could practically hear him vibrating with irritation.
The silence stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic tick-tick-tick of the clock and the sound of Severus shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
He was fidgeting—a rare occurrence for a man who usually occupied space with the stillness of a gargoyle.
"My phone, Sirius. Where is my phone?"
"Why on earth do you need your phone at midnight?" Sirius asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. "It's sleep time. Dreamland calls. The Sandman is knocking."
"The time is irrelevant," Severus snapped, though the edge of his voice was softer than usual, betraying the desperation. "I simply require it. Now."
Sirius rolled onto his back, squinting up at the silhouette of his partner. "You're being awfully sneaky, Sev. All these little disappearances, the glowing duvet... honestly, it's suspicious. Tell me the truth. Are you having an affair?"
Severus let out a sound that was half-sigh, half-snort. "Yes. I am having a passionate, whirlwind romance that requires my immediate attention. Now give it back."
Sirius grinned, his eyes sparking. "An affair, eh? With whom? Some mysterious stranger? A forbidden love? Oh, please tell me I can join in. I'm excellent at being the third wheel; I had years of experience with Remus."
"Just give it back, you tedious man,"
Severus groaned. He stepped closer, his movements jerky, and before Sirius could react, Severus had lunged forward. He didn't go for the pillow.
In a flurry of limbs and tangled sheets, Severus tackled him, not with grace, but with the frantic energy of a man trying to recover a lost heirloom. He began patting down Sirius’s sides and checking his pocket with an efficiency that bordered on a full-body search. "If you've hidden it in the duvet, I swear to every deity—"
"Whoa! Hey!" Sirius wheezed, laughing as he tried to buck Severus off. "Is this a robbery? Am I being frisked? I feel violated! I feel oppressed!"
"You are being a nuisance!" Severus countered, though he was now practically pinning Sirius to the mattress, his face inches away.
He paused, his dark eyes searching Sirius’s face for a tell, his breathing heavy.
Severus didn't pull away immediately; instead, he let out a long, defeated huff of air, his forehead resting against Sirius’s.
"Just tell me where it is. I am on the verge of a breakthrough in the Alchemy League, and if my score drops now, the entire guild's strategy for the solstice event will collapse."
Sirius felt a surge of pride. He hadn't realised Severus had climbed high enough to be a strategist for a guild.
Slowly, Sirius reached under the pillow and produced the device with a flourish, holding it aloft like a trophy. "The Prince of Potions, huh? A bit pretentious, even for you."
He held the phone just out of reach, his arm locked like a vault. "The device is yours," Sirius murmured, his voice dropping an octave, "but there is retrieval fee. Terms are non-negotiable."
Severus stared at him, his expression a mixture of longing for the screen and genuine annoyance at the man beneath him. "You are a parasite," he drawled, though he didn't move to pull away.
"A parasite with your digital life in his hand,"
Sirius grinned. He shifted, hooking a leg around Severus’s hip to keep him anchored. "First, a kiss. A real one. None of that brisk, 'I'm in a hurry peck you gave me before you went to the bathroom. I want the full, dramatic, 'I’ve missed you for days experience."
Severus let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a surrender.
He leaned in, his movements slow and deliberate, and captured Sirius’s lips with a precision that felt like a calculated strike. It started as a reluctant, but as Sirius hummed into the kiss, pulling him closer, the tension in Severus’s shoulders finally began to melt. The frantic energy of the 'Alchemy League' faded, replaced by a slow, heavy heat that made the air in the room feel thick.
Severus’s hand, which had been searching for the phone, found the back of Sirius’s neck instead, fingers curling into the hairline with a possessive sort of urgency. It was the kind of kiss that always stole the breath from Sirius’s lungs.
When they finally broke apart for air, both of them were slightly flushed and breathing in a rhythmic, synchronized chaos. Sirius didn't let go of the phone immediately; he held it just out of reach, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"I think," Sirius whispered, his voice raspy and far too pleased with himself, "that the exchange rate for digital devices is currently inflating. I might need a second installment."
Severus didn't even argue. He simply leaned back in, his lips finding the sensitive curve of Sirius’s jawline. "You are a greedy, insufferable creature," he murmured against his skin, though the words were punctuated by a soft, lingering kiss that contradicted the insult entirely.
Eventually, the inevitable happened. Severus managed to deftly swipe the phone from Sirius’s loosening grip, the screen illuminating his pale face in a sharp, clinical blue light.
He didn't immediately dive back into the game, though. He stayed there, pinned to Sirius in the wreckage of the sheets, staring at the screen for a long moment of silence.
"The solstice event," Severus said, his voice returning to its usual measured cadence. "The window for the rare catalyst collection opens in twenty minutes. If I miss the timing, the entire guild's progression for the next quarter will be set back by three weeks."
Sirius watched him, leaning back against the headboard. He loved this side of Severus—the absolute, uncompromising commitment to a goal, no matter how trivial the rest of the world found it.
Most people saw Severus as a man of cold logic and rigid habits, but Sirius knew the truth: Severus didn't do anything halfway.
"You know," Sirius mused, reaching over to poke Severus’s shoulder, "if you're such a high-ranking strategist, you've probably noticed that my guild, The Marauders' Menace, is currently sitting just three spots below you in the regional standings. It would be a real tragedy if someone... say... sabotaged the catalyst spawn point."
Severus stiffened, his gaze finally snapping away from the screen to glare at Sirius. "You wouldn't dare.”
Sirius plucked the phone from his husband's hand, ‘I guess it depends how creative you can be in the next twenty minutes,” he grinned.
Severus stared at him with profound exasperation.
"You are the most manipulative man I have ever met."
"And yet," Sirius said, smiling, "you married me."
Severus rolled his eyes so hard Sirius was surprised they didn't disappear into the back of his head.
"Insufferable."
"Mm."
Sirius twirled the phone between his fingers.
"Well?"
Severus let out the sigh of a man accepting an especially unfair fate.
"...You drive a disgracefully hard bargain."
Sirius's grin became positively wolfish.
"I know."
Severus shook his head, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "I married an extortionist," and leaned in.
Sirius laughed into the kiss.
The phone slipped forgotten into the duvet somewhere between them.
It turned out Sirius had been right.
He could be very creative