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Chapter Text

“Oi, did you hear? There’s an omega in Slytherin.”

“An omega in the snake pit? Poor sod.”

“Not just that—it’s a bloke. And he’s a late bloomer.”

Sirius hadn’t meant to overhear the two Hufflepuffs muttering in the corridor. He’d only been on his way to a snog—some Hufflepuff girl, beta, nothing worth remembering—when their words hit him like a hex.

Normally, Sirius Black didn’t give a damn about gossip. But this… an omega in Slytherin? Impossible. Even his parents had both been alphas; it was practically the law among pure-bloods. Alphas married alphas, produced the strongest heirs. Betas like Andromeda—his favourite cousin—were tolerated at best. Omegas? Never. That was the sort of disgrace people whispered about for generations.

“A late bloomer? What year?”

“Sixth. Can you imagine? He’s in the infirmary now…”

Sixth year… Sirius froze, the blood draining from his face. There was only one sixth-year Slytherin who hadn’t presented yet.

Snivellus.

And there he was.

Curled under a quilt, hair a greasy curtain across the pillow, Severus Snape looked far too human for Sirius’s liking. Pale. Defenseless.

Sirius had abandoned Jane—or Janet, or whatever the hell her name was—the moment he realised who it might be. He had to see for himself. And when he did, his gut twisted in ways he couldn’t put words to.

Snivellus was an omega.

And worse—he smelled good.

Sirius clenched his jaw. He’d never admit it. Not to James, not to Remus, not even under the Cruciatus Curse.

Still, he edged closer. Just one more breath. Just one last confirmation. Hidden beneath James’s invisibility cloak, he was safe. No one would know Sirius Black had stooped so low as to—

Then Severus opened his eyes.

Obsidian clashed with storm-grey.

For a long second, the infirmary was silent.

Severus’s fury sparked first. For a heartbeat he thought he must be dreaming, trapped in yet another nightmare with Black’s face looming over him. He wanted to snarl “Sod off,” to bare his teeth. But his throat betrayed him.

“Alpha.”

The word came out as a whisper, unbidden, raw.

 Sirius flushed scarlet, the heat rising to his ears. His heart thundered in his chest. And then, with all the courage of a Gryffindor faced with something unspeakable, he did the only thing he could—he turned and fled.

By the time Sirius crashed back into the Gryffindor dormitory, his pulse was still racing. He’d hoped for solitude, but no such luck. James was sprawled across his bed, lazily tossing a Quidditch ball in the air. Remus sat with a book, and even Peter was hovering nearby.

“Merlin’s beard, what did that Hufflepuff girl do to you, Padfoot?” James teased, his grin wicked as he leaned back against the pillows.

The remark made Remus lower his book. He frowned, taking in his friend’s ashen face, the too-bright flush in his cheeks. Sirius looked shaken, as though he had faced something far darker than a schoolyard fling.

“Sirius,” Remus said carefully, “are you alright?”

Sirius didn’t answer. Instead, he hurled the invisibility cloak at James with enough force to make him yelp.

“Oi!” James barked, fumbling the catch. “What’s got your wand in a knot?”

Sirius ignored him. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to share the secret. It was his, and his alone.

He liked being the only one who knew Snivellus’s shame. He didn’t want James turning it into a weapon, didn’t want Remus’s quiet reasoning insisting they leave Snape alone. And he especially didn’t want them catching the scent.

Because that scent—Severus’s scent—was his to carry. And Severus Snape smelled like everything Sirius had been denied. Woodsmoke and warmth, parchment and black tea. The promise of quiet, of comfort, of safety.

It made his chest ache. It made him furious. It made him want more.

“Maybe the girl hexed him,” Peter offered with a nervous snicker.

Sirius dropped onto his bed, raking a hand through his hair, trying for nonchalance. But the weight of two alpha gazes pressed on him—James’s teasing and lazy, Remus’s sharp and unsettlingly steady.

James smirked, tossing the Quidditch ball from hand to hand. “You disappear for hours and come back looking like death warmed over. Either you’ve had the best shag of your life, or the worst hex. Which is it?”

“Neither,” Sirius bit out, too fast.

Remus’s nostrils flared. He stilled, book sliding forgotten from his lap. “You smell… different.”

Sirius’s stomach lurched. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

James frowned, sniffing the air “You are right Moony, he smells…sweet? That’s not a beta smell”

Sirius froze. His pulse slammed in his throat.

Peter squinted between them, confused. “Sweet? What are you on about? I don’t smell anything.”

“Of course you don’t,” Remus said evenly, his gaze fixed on Sirius. “You’re a beta. But it’s there. Omega. Clinging to him.”

The room went still.

James’s grin spread, slow and wicked. “Bloody hell, Pads. Who was she? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and sunk your teeth into some sixth-year omega? Merlin, no wonder you look half-dead. You must’ve worn each other out.”

Sirius forced a laugh, sharp and reckless. “You’re both mad. I’ve been with no one. Unless your precious noses are sniffing your own arses.”

James chuckled, tossing the ball back into the air. “Denial never looked so good on you.”

But Remus didn’t laugh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes dark and unblinking. “It’s fresh,” he said softly, like a verdict. “Whoever it was, you were close.”

The words made Sirius’s skin prickle. His grin wavered, but he shoved it back into place, lounging against the headboard like he hadn’t a care in the world. “Drop it, Moony. I don’t owe either of you my bloody diary.”

James rolled his eyes. “Fine. Keep your secrets, Padfoot. But I swear, if you’ve gone and tangled with an omega, I hope you remembered to use protection. I’m too young to become an uncle”

Peter snickered, James laughed at his own joke, but Sirius barely heard them because Remus was still watching him

And the scent still haunted him—woodsmoke and black tea, parchment and warmth—laced with the ripe sweetness of blackberries, rich and cloying, sinking into his skin. Comfort and temptation wound together, a chain no alpha could resist. His secret. His shame. And Merlin damn him—his desire,

It wasn’t that Sirius had always thought Severus was nothing but a greasy git. The truth was worse. He had always felt the pull. And every time his chest ached with it, he lashed out harder—hexed Snape more viciously, mocked him more cruelly. Punishment for feelings he couldn’t stomach.

He hated how, even on the first ride to Hogwarts, he’d thought the boy looked cute in the oversized robes, clinging to that annoying redhead who talked too much. Severus never talked too much, but when he did—his words were as sharp as his mind.

Sirius also hated how Severus had been proud to announce he wanted to be in Slytherin. Back then, Sirius had thought his mother would love to have a son like that. And that thought alone had made him hate Severus even more.

He told himself he hated Severus’s nose. Not because it was too big—no. Because it looked regal. Like the plaster busts of Roman men his mother kept in Grimmauld Place. He told himself he hated those cheekbones, too—too sharp, too high. Not because they were ugly, but because he found them beautiful.

And now. Now Severus had an even stronger hold on him. Because Severus wasn’t just Snivellus anymore.

Severus was an omega.

Sirius had always hoped he would turn out a beta. Like Lily, that chatterbox Snape trailed after so faithfully. A beta would have been safe. Harmless. Something Sirius could dismiss.

But omega?

Severus’s heat had finally stopped. Madam Pomfrey had told him it must have been a strong one—because it was his first, and because he was such a late bloomer. She’d tried to comfort him, assuring him the next would be lighter.

But the words offered him no comfort.

Because the moment he became an omega was the moment his life grew even worse.

He was certain it shouldn’t even be possible.

An omega in Slytherin—surrounded by alphas who already treated him like filth, like he had no right to be there because of his blood.

Now? Now they would have a new reason to sneer, to mock, to break him.

Thank Merlin that fool Dumbledore had shown enough decadence—or pity—to give him a private room and bath.

It was the only positive outcome.

At least he could shower after every potion-brewing session, and maybe—just maybe—his hair would stop being such a greasy mess.

Because no matter what anyone thought, he did not enjoy having greasy hair.

Or being called names.

Which reminded him—he had seen Sirius Black’s face in the infirmary.

Marauders.

All of them, save for Pettigrew, were alphas. And now they would have another reason to boast, to circle him like wolves. Snivellus —a dirty, weak omega. While Potter and Black strutted through Hogwarts as golden alpha heroes.

And just his luck—the first lesson back was Potions. With Gryffindor.

He was certain that loudmouthed Black had already told them all about his status. They would be salivating over it, waiting to make a spectacle of him.

Severus cringed inwardly, bracing himself for the worst.

Evan Rosier was the first to get hold of him. Just before entering Potions, he caught Severus by the arm and all but pressed his nose to his skin, sniffing like a bloodhound.

“Holy hell,” Rosier breathed, grinning wide. “They weren’t joking. You really are an omega, Snape.”

The words burned worse than any hex. Heat surged up Severus’s throat—humiliation, rage, and the faintest curl of fear he would never allow Rosier to see. He tried to wrench his arm free, but Rosier only tightened his grip.

“Let’s sit together, Snape.”

Severus knew better than to argue. If he didn’t fight back, Rosier would grow bored with him soon enough. That was how it always went.  A typical spoiled pure-blood brat.

Just like Potter, who Severus was certain only circled around Lily because she played hard to get, and he loved the chase.

And Severus was certain now, after that time Potter had hung him upside-down in front of everyone, that Lily had liked the attention. He had seen it, even if only for a flicker: the smile tugging at her lips.

That single look had struck him harder than any curse.

And in that moment, Severus had understood. She might still hold the echo of their childhood friendship, but she was no longer his. She had chosen her side.

He would not beg for her forgiveness again.

Even if it ached his heart like poison.

When him and Rosier entered the classroom, everyone attention was on him. And this time it wasn’t the reason that Marauders pranked him again, but because they all could smell him.

Rosier smirked beside him, smug as though he owned him now.

Severus saw Lily eyes, she looked like she pity him but at the same time she looked furious, and he wasn’t sure what this time she was furious with him about. Was it because of his status now, or Rosier?

His eyes found the Marauders.

A smirk tugged at his mouth before he could stop it.

Potter looked stricken, pale as if he’d seen a ghost. Lupin flushed crimson, on the verge of an aneurysm. Pettigrew only gaped, round-eyed and useless.

And Black—

Black was different. His jaw tight, his storm-grey stare pinned Severus with something raw, something twisted.

If Severus didn’t know better, he might have thought Black looked… jealous.

But the others’ reactions told him what he needed to know: Black hadn’t said a word. Not to Potter, not to Lupin. Curious. Why keep this secret?

Severus and Rosier took seats near the back. Rosier sat puffed up like a rooster, chest bloated with self-importance. But Severus didn’t mind. For once, Rosier wasn’t a completely useless partner—third-best in Potions, after him and Lily. Working with him was almost a relief.

Across the room, James leaned toward Sirius, eyes narrowed.

“Please tell me Snivellus wasn’t the omega I smelled on you,” he whispered.

“Shut up, Prongs. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Then explain how Snivellus smells exactly like that sweet scent I caught on you four days ago.”

“Sweet?” Sirius arched a brow.

“Oh, sod off—you know what I mean.”

Sirius hissed back, low, “Prongs, seriously, I only found out by accident, alright? I didn’t want you lot to haunt him. He was in heat and—”

“What were you doing there if he was in heat?” Remus cut in sharply, voice almost a growl.

“I told you—it’s not like that!” Sirius snapped.

James’s eyes narrowed. “Is that why you had my invisibility cloak? Sneaking into the infirmary to sniff at Snivellus in heat?” His voice was a hiss now, dangerous.

“Are you out of your bloody mind? N-no! Of course not. Why would you even think that?” Sirius shot back, but his face was flushed.

“Ugh, whatever,” James muttered, but his gaze slid toward the back of the room where Rosier leaned too close to Severus. “What’s Rosier even want with that slimy git?”

“They’re probably together,” Peter squeaked before he could stop himself.

Three alpha glares landed on him at once. Peter swallowed hard and ducked his head, deciding then and there never to add his voice to these conversations again.

“Boys, I would like you to focus on the potion,” Slughorn scolded from the front.

Lily shot James a glare sharp enough to kill

Chapter Text

The moment he stepped inside the Great Hall, the weight of everything hit him. Glances, whispers, the faintest curl of scents carried on the air—every eye seemed sharper, every murmur thicker. His legs trembled beneath his robes, but he forced his head high, his stride steady, as though none of it touched him.

Severus slid onto the Slytherin bench, hands moving automatically to ladle food onto his plate. Pretend that the stares didn’t bothered him. Always pretend.

When someone sat beside him he did his best to ignore it.

“Hello, Snape.”

A feminine voice, warm with amusement. He glanced up into the sharp smile of Andromeda Black .

“…Black.” The name came out like venom.

But Andromeda only smiled wider, her eyes glinting. She looked like her sisters, the infamous trio of beauties—same carved cheekbones, same sharp jaw and same aristrocatic poise. But where Bellatrix blazed like fire and Narcissa gleamed like ice, Andromeda was softer—almost forgettable, if not for the quiet cleverness in her eyes.

“You’re cute,” she said simply, humming as she helped herself to roast potatoes, as though commenting on the weather.

Severus blinked. Had she lost her mind—or was torment coded into the Black family blood?

“Excuse me, what did you just say, my dear cousin?”

The voice came low and sharp. Rosier had dropped onto the bench at Severus’s other side, his grip claiming Severus’s arm before he could move.

Severus went still.

Andromeda didn’t even glance up from her plate. “I said he’s cute. Why? Does it bother you, Evan? Should I write to dear Aunt and Uncle? Tell them their promising heir can’t keep his hands off a half-blood omega?”

Severus stiffened, heat flashing up his neck at her words—but Rosier’s snarl was worth it.

His teeth ground audibly. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating, cousin.”

“Oh, I think you do,” Andromeda replied lightly, biting into her bread roll.

Before the exchange could sharpen, another voice joined, smooth as silk.

“Hello, Andromeda. Hello, Evan. …Snape.”

Regulus Black slipped into the seat opposite, his eyes flicking to Severus before darting down again, a faint flush creeping over his pale cheeks.

Severus’s lip curled faintly. The boy was two years his junior and already an alpha—lanky and awkward, but growing into muscle with Quidditch. His features were gentler than Sirius’s, missing the wildness, the madness.

Every chance Regulus got, he tried to wedge himself closer to Severus—seeking help in Potions, offering quiet company, fumbling for some sort of friendship.

And every time, the elder Black would bark him away, snarling as though Regulus’s mere presence near Snape was some kind of betrayal. As if Sirius didn’t betray his own family already.

And right on cue—

“My baby brother joins the snake pit. Perfect. A family reunion—plus Snivellus.” Sirius’s voice cut across the Gryffindor table, dripping venom.

“They’re all Slytherins, leave it,” Remus muttered, not looking up from his plate. Lupin told himself it was for peace. That Sirius was loud enough without him egging it on. But really—it was because his eyes had already strayed to Severus. They always did.

Remus liked the boy’s silence, the way he folded into the corners of a room but still burned sharp as glass. He liked that Snape loved books the way he did. He liked that mind—brilliant, cold, precise. Too precise for his own good.

And now—Merlin help him—he liked that scent. Woodsmoke, parchment, black tea. Sweetened now with the ripe tang of omega. It curled into his chest, heady and irresistible.

“Exactly. All snakes,” Sirius spat. “What if Snape lures my brother with his omega stink straight into the Dark Lord’s pocket?”

Remus snorted, covering the heat rising in his throat “Regulus was half in love with him before he presented.”

Sirius pretended to gag. “Merlin’s balls, Moony. Don’t say that.”

“Don’t like the truth, Padfoot?”

“Shut it.”

James, who had been stabbing his food harder and harder, finally cut in with a sneer. “Can you imagine your mother’s face, Pads, if she found out your precious little brother was cozying up to a half-blood omega?” His eyes flicked to the Slytherin table, lingering on Severus. He still couldn’t quite believe it. Snape. An omega. And the scent of him—Merlin, it had been sweet. Too sweet. He stabbed his meat again, jaw tight.

Sirius barked a humorless laugh. “She’d drop dead on the spot.” His gaze burned holes in Severus’s back, narrowing when Rosier’s hand lingered a moment too long. His alpha stirred, restless, growling inside him—territorial, furious. He clenched his fists hard enough his knuckles ached, biting it down. If James or Remus caught the slip, he’d never hear the end of it.

“By the way,” Remus said suddenly, a note of sly amusement in his voice, “what about Evans?”

“Evans?!” Sirius exploded, voice echoing down the table. “What about him?”

Remus chuckled low. “Not that one. Lily.”

“Huh? What about Lily?” James’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t know,” Remus mused, voice smooth, “she seemed… off. Earlier.”

“Off?” Sirius smirked, seizing the chance. “You mean like Prongs just pissed in her cup

“What—?!” James gaped at him, scandalized. His eyes darted— for the first time today —to Lily at the end of the table.

And that in itself was strange. Because James Potter always looked at her. Always. He usually couldn’t tear his eyes away, basking in every toss of her hair, every sharp retort, every scowl. His attention was relentless, a constant orbit.

But today? Today he hadn’t looked at her once. Not until now.

His Lily. His perfect, fiery Lily. Not an omega, but a Beta. But still perfect in her own way.

She wasn’t looking at him. But her scowl could have peeled paint from the walls.

“I think she always looks like that,” James muttered, trying to sound breezy, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. The way his thoughts kept straying back to another scent, another face. “She’s just playing hard to get. But sooner or later—she’ll be Lady Potter.”

At the far end of the Great Hall, Andromeda watched Severus with that infuriating little smile of hers.

“Let’s be friends, Severus,” she declared, cheerful as though she’d just decided the weather was pleasant.

Severus stared at her like she’d grown three heads. But then again… the friendship would make sense. Andromeda was a beta—nothing the pure-blood elite would ever boast of. He was the only omega here. She was clever, rarely spoke nonsense, and she could shut Rosier up with a single sentence. That alone was a point in her favor.

“…Ok,” Severus said at last, trying to sound nonchalant.

Regulus gasped, leaning forward. “Sev—Snape, I would like to be your friend too, if possible?” His voice cracked with eagerness, eyes shining like a puppy begging for scraps.

Rosier gave a low, mocking laugh. “How, exactly? How can Snape be your friend when your rabid brother would tear him to pieces for it?”

“Let’s be friends… Regulus,” Severus said at last, his tone deceptively mild as he ignored Rosier entirely.

He turned his head just slightly, gaze flicking toward the Gryffindor table. The corner of his mouth curled in the faintest smirk.

Sirius Black is gonna loose his mind. The boy he despised most in the world—the greasy half-blood omega with his brother and, his favourite cousin Andromeda at his side?

The thought curled in Severus’s chest like dark satisfaction. Revenge didn’t always need hexes or duels. Sometimes it was as simple as taking what the other treasured, twisting the knife with a smile.

Regulus blushed, ducking his head. “Thank you,” he whispered, so soft it was almost lost beneath the clatter of plates.

“Don’t worry, Reg about Siri,” Andromeda said lightly, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. “He’s always been overprotective. And jealous. He never did like to share. Remember when he cried so hideously because Walburga gave you one of his old toys?” She tilted her head toward Severus, her smile sharp.  “Funny thing about brothers… they often want the same things, don’t they?”

Severus and Regulus pretended to ignore Andromeda’s comment, their expression schooled into indifference though both of their ears burned pink.

“Ugh, excuse me.” Rosier pushed back from the bench with a scoff, though the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him. “It seems Lucius would like a word.”

Rosier  caught the Malfoy heir’s cool, lingering stare across the hall, and he wasn’t foolish enough to miss what it meant. When Lucius summoned, you came.

“Aren’t our cousin adorable, Reg,” Andromeda cooed, voice lilting with mockery. “Trailing after Malfoy like a lapdog. Well—I suppose Lucius will be family soon enough.”

Severus’s lip curled before he could stop himself. “Family soon? Please. With the way your lot intermarry, half this table’s already your family one way or another. You don’t have a family tree—you’ve got a family circle.”

Andromeda threw her head back and laughed, bright and sudden, cutting through the heavy air. “No wonder our little family circle is so obsessed with you, Severus. That tongue of yours could slice glass. You’re the funniest man I know.” She leaned closer, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m glad I sat here today.”

She winked, and to his horror, Severus almost blushed, and Regulus stayed silent. Too shy to echo his cousin’s boldness, though the words pressed at the back of his throat— brilliant, sharp, clever, funny. Instead he only fiddled with his fork, cheeks faintly pink, wishing he had the courage to say what he really thought of Severus Snape.

For the second time that day, Sirius nearly shot out of his seat. His chair screeched against the stone floor, drawing heads from nearby tables.

“What the fuck , Padfoot?” James exclaimed, snatching his glass of pumpkin juice before it toppled, amber liquid sloshing over his hand.

“ Dromeda just winked at fucking Snivellus. ” His voice cracked with disbelief, half a snarl. “Is everyone in my family going bloody bonkers over his stinking omega stink, or what? “His fists curled on the table. “I’m going over there.”

“Is that the Black madness everyone talks about?” Peter blurted, disbelief written all over his face.

Both James and Remus turned on him instantly, twin glares sharp enough to cut.

“Shut it Wormtail” James snapped, his voice low but edged with something rawer than anger. It wasn’t just Peter’s words that stung—it was the ugly twist in his own chest, the sharp, irrational urge to be the one pulling Snape away from Slytherin table, from Rosier, from Regulus, from anyone else who dared circle him. The thought made him furious with himself, and Peter’s comment was the easiest place to throw that fury.

Remus stayed silent, but his stare was heavier than James’s words—cold, warning, unblinking. Inside, though, the knot pulled tighter. He had always admired Severus’. And now that scent, curling through the air, and the sight of Andromeda laughing at his side, Regulus leaning in—Merlin, it twisted something deep inside him. Something he’d buried so his friends would never notice.

Peter shrank back, muttering something under his breath, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.

Sirius was already moving, storming across the hall with the recklessness of someone about to start a fight he didn’t care if he won.

Every step drew eyes. By the time he reached the Slytherin bench, the hum of conversation had faltered into silence.

“Dromeda. Word. Outside,” snarled Sirius, trying hard to keep his composure

Heads turned along the Slytherin table, curious stares fixing on him. Regulus stiffened where he sat, while Severus smirked like he’d just been handed free entertainment.

Andromeda tilted her head, a slow, knowing smile curling her lips. “Oh, Siri…” she drawled, clearly savoring the moment.

But she didn’t push it. With a little hum, she rose from her seat, smoothing her robes as though she’d merely grown bored of dinner.

“Excuse me,” she said sweetly, before gliding toward the doors with Sirius stalking at her heels, fury radiating off him, though his eyes couldn’t quite stop flicking back to Severus.

________

“Siri—have you lost your mind?” Andromeda demanded the moment the doors shut behind them.

“Me? What about you?” Sirius snapped back, pacing like a caged dog. “I know Reg’s got some ridiculous fixation on that overgrown bat - but you?”

Andromeda only toyed with a lock of her hair, her expression cool, almost bored. “Mmm… don’t worry. I won’t be another of your rivals.” Her lips quirked. “Severus and I are just friends. I thought you knew I already have someone I like.”

Sirius froze. “Y-you don’t mean—that Muggle? Dromeda…”

“His name is Ted, Sirius.” Her tone sharpened just slightly, daring him to say otherwise.

“You know they’ll disown you,” Sirius muttered, anger and fear tangling in his throat.

“Of course. I’m not stupid,” she said evenly. Then her gaze softened, almost wistful. “But with Ted, I feel like myself. I feel free. And he’s a beta—like me. Did you know in the Muggle world most people are betas? Nobody spits on them for not being alphas. Nobody tells them they’re less. Or that they are disgrace.”

Her eyes lingered on him, sharper now. “Strange, isn’t it? I’m choosing someone everyone says I shouldn’t. Someone who makes me feel safe.” She tilted her head. “Almost like the way you’ve been looking at Severus. As if you can’t stop yourself—even though you’d rather bite off your own tongue than admit it.”

Sirius gaped like a fish out of water, jaw opening and closing before he finally managed to stammer, “J-just… be careful around him. Merlin knows what he’d do if he found out you love a Muggleborn. He’s a dark wizard, you know, and—”

“Oh, yes,” Andromeda cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “The great dark Severus. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meddle in my love life, considering his only friend was a Muggleborn girl from Gryffindor.” Her smile was sharp, amused.

“He called her a Mudblood , Dromeda!” Sirius exploded. “He’s a slimy git and—”

“And what?” Andromeda’s amusement dropped into something harder, colder. “I would call her worse, honestly. She was his only friend, and she still had the audacity to flirt with Potter—while Potter was busy sexually assaulting him.”

Sirius went scarlet, ears ringing. “S-sexually—what the hell are you even saying?”

“Don’t play dumb, Siri.” Her voice was quiet now, edged with steel. “Potter pulled Severus’s trousers down. In front of half the bloody school. Did you forget, or do you just not care when it’s your best mate doing the dirty work? Do you only see cruelty when it comes from Slytherins?”

Her gaze flicked sharp as a knife “You know, I’m a snake too.”  And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off without waiting for Sirius reply.

Her words hung in the air long after she was gone, echoing in his skull like hexes he couldn’t deflect.

Sirius stood rooted, fists clenched so tight his nails bit into his palms. He wanted to laugh, to bark out some careless retort the way he always did—but nothing came.

Because she was right.

He remembered it too well: Severus dangling in the air, trousers yanked down while the crowd roared with laughter. James cackling like it was the cleverest thing he’d ever done. And Sirius—Sirius urging him on, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, drunk on the chaos, on the power.

“Stop it,” Remus had said then, quiet but cutting through the noise. Sirius remembered the look on his face—disapproval, discomfort. James had waved him off, the crowd had jeered louder, and Sirius had shouted over them, desperate to drown Remus out, desperate to hide the truth of why his pulse was racing.

He’d told himself it was harmless, just another prank. Snivellus deserved it. Everyone thought so. But the way Andromeda had said it— sexually assaulted —made his stomach twist. Because that’s what it was. Strip someone bare before the whole school, leave them humiliated and exposed—what else could you call it?

And worst of all… he’d liked it. Not the cruelty, not the jeers—but him . The pale line of Severus’s body catching the sunlight. The slim waist. His lips—flushed, pinker than Sirius had ever seen them—drawn tight as he spat curses that only made the crowd laugh louder. His cheeks stained red, not just from rage but from shame, heat rising beneath his thin skin.

And his eyes—Merlin, those black eyes. Burning like obsidians, raw and wild, as though if he could, he would tear the sky itself apart.

He’d wanted more of it. Wanted to look longer. That was why he’d spurred James on, why he hadn’t stopped him. Why part of him—Merlin help him—had enjoyed it.

And shame burned hotter still when Sirius remembered the way Remus had looked at him that day. Not at Severus, dangling in the air, but at him. At Sirius.

A glance too sharp, too knowing. Remus had said “Stop it,” quiet but firm, but it wasn’t just James he’d been addressing, was it? It was Sirius too.

As if he’d already guessed what Sirius couldn’t admit. That his laugh had been too loud, his grin too wide. That he’d been enjoying it for all the wrong reasons.

His chest had ached with something he couldn’t name then, and even now the memory made his gut churn—shame and hunger twisted into one.

Sirius swore under his breath, raking a hand through his hair, hoping to get all this thoughts all of his mind. But Andromeda’s voice lingered, cruel and unshakable. You only see cruelty when it comes from Slytherins.

Chapter Text

Sirius and Remus were in the dormitory. James was still in the shower, and Peter was—Merlin knew where. He’d been sneaking off more often lately, and James had joked he must’ve finally found himself a “nice bird.”

“Moony…” Sirius started, unable to shake Andromeda’s words from his head. “Remember when James… when he took Snivellus’s pants?”

Remus grunted in acknowledgment, eyes still on his textbook.

“Do you think…” Sirius hesitated, throat dry. “Do you think it was sexual assault?”

“Yes,” Remus replied coldly, not looking up.

“Fucking hell…” Sirius muttered, running a hand down his face. His thoughts spiraled, ugly and restless.

“Why do you care now?” Remus asked suddenly, snapping his book shut and fixing him with an accusing stare. “Why now, after everything you put him through? Is it because he’s an omega now?”

Sirius bristled, fury flaring. “What do you mean—you Don’t act like a saint, Moony. You had a hand in all the pranks too! Don’t forget it!”

“I tried to stop you, you and James” Remus shot back, voice rising. “You never listened. And you—ever since Severus presented, you’ve been acting like a dog guarding resources. Barking at anyone who even looks at him. If you’ve got something to admit, then do it. Because it’s exhausting.”

Something in his tone lingered—resentful, almost pained. Like this wasn’t just about Sirius being reckless, but about something Remus himself couldn’t say out loud. Sirius’s mind stuttered, searching for an answer, and figure out the only conclusion he could “Are you… are you in love with me, Moony?”

Remus’s face twisted like he couldn’t believe the density of his friend. “Sirius, you’re like a brother to me. No, I’m not in love with you. The question is—are you in love with—”

The door banged open, cutting him off. James stormed in with a whoop, dripping from the shower, grinning like he’d just won the Cup. He flung himself onto his bed with a bounce.

“Lily asked me for a date!” he crowed.

They all went to Hogsmeade that Saturday. Lily with James. Sirius with Marlene. Remus with Mary. Both Muggle-born beta girls, pretty and lively. For Peter, there was Donna—an alpha, taller by a head, looking like a sharper, female version of Pettigrew. She didn’t look happy with that outcome, and neither did Peter.

Sirius didn’t mind his match. It had been too long since his last snog, and Marlene seemed a fine enough distraction. Not his type, but better than nothing. Maybe if he kissed her long enough, he could scrub Snivellus out of his mind.

But of course, just the thought of him was enough to conjure him.

There he was.

Severus Snape, slipping through the village streets like a curse Sirius couldn’t escape.

And not alone.

Andromeda glided at his side, smug as ever. Rosier to his other side, looking like he owned him. And behind them, Regulus trotted too close, too eager, a shadow desperate to be noticed.

It looked wrong. 

Sirius’s jaw clenched, fury coiling hot in his gut.

He was supposed to be thinking about Marlene’s lips. About butterbeer. About anything but the pale curve of Snape’s throat when he tilted his head to Andromeda’s laugh.

And yet there it was again—like a ghost. Like a curse.

Snape. Always fucking Snape.

“Snivellus!” James shouted across the street before he could stop himself.

Every head turned.

Andromeda leaned in, her lips brushing close to Severus’s ear as she whispered something only for him. His mouth twitched—half a sneer, half a smirk—and he shook his head before turning down another street without a word.

Andromeda laughed, bright and careless, and with a little flick of her hand she waved toward the Marauders like queen of England - as though mocking them with the gesture. Then she followed Severus’s path, dark hair swaying like a banner.

Rosier, subtle as always, threw the Gryffindor group a sharp middle finger before striding after the omega. He slung an arm possessively across Severus’s shoulders—only to have Andromeda slap it away with a snap of her hand, her smile never faltering.

Regulus lingered a heartbeat longer, his expression tight. His gaze darted between James and Sirius, his face curling into open disgust before he, too, turned to follow.

“James!” Shouted Lily angry her green eyes fired up “ You promised me —you will stop with the bullying”

“Lily! I swear, it was just a habit—I won’t do it again, alright?” James pleaded, hands raised as if in surrender. “Let me make it up to you. We’ll go to Madam Puddifoot’s—you’ve wanted to try it, haven’t you?”

Lily’s mouth twitched. The fire in her eyes dimmed as quickly as it had flared. “Mmm… fine. One last chance, James.” Her tone softened into something almost playful.

Sirius wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself. What he didn’t put himself through for friendship. Now, thanks to Prongs and his relentless pining, he’d be stuck in that suffocating pink hell.

And it was hell.

Madam Puddifoot’s was a nightmare of lace and frills, every inch dripping in pink. Steam from overcrowded teapots fogged the windows, and charmed confetti floated from the ceiling, settling into Sirius’s hair until it looked like he had bad case of pink dandruff. He clenched his jaw to keep from hexing the place into ashes.

Lily hadn’t stopped talking since they sat down. She ranted about professors, about essays, about how people whispered behind her back out of envy for her wit. Then she complained to how hard it was being Muggle-born and how everyone judged her, and circled again to jealousy.

James devoured every word, hanging on like she was reciting prophecy. Compliments poured from him in steady waves: “Brilliant, Lily.” “Sharp as always, Lily.” “Only you could see it that way, Lily.”  Sirius thought he might vomit just from listening to that.

At the far end, Peter was making a fool of himself.  He cracked jokes, laughed too loudly at his own stories, but the tall alpha girl looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

And Remus didn’t even bother. He sat quiet while carving through a monstrous slice of chocolate cake like it was his only companion. His date shifted beside him, bored out of her mind, twisting her napkin into shreds, but Remus didn’t so much as glance her way.

And Sirius’s date? Marlene talked too—leaning in, her perfume sweet and sharp, whispering little things against his ear. He whispered back when he had to, smirking like he cared. In truth, he was counting the minutes. How long before he could get out of this frilly pink hell, drown himself in firewhisky, and maybe snog Marlene against the back wall until her tongue finally gave him something to focus on besides Snape.

And he wondered what Snape was doing now. Was Rosier still plastered to his side, greedy hands creeping back to his shoulders, the way Sirius had seen before Andromeda smacked them off? What if she wasn’t there next time? What if Rosier leaned in—stole Severus (probably first) kiss, pressed him against a wall, shoved his hand into that black hair—

Hair that Sirius had noticed, earlier, looked different. Clean. Shining, like Snape had finally washed it properly. And for who had he washed it for? For bloody Rosier, preening like a rooster on display? For Regulus, who looked at him like a starved pup?

The fury burned sharp and ugly. Snape, the greasy bat, finally deciding to polish himself up—now, when it would drive Sirius mad. Like a tease. Like he knew Sirius couldn’t look away, and was twisting the knife just to spite him.

He could see it too clearly: Rosier’s hands in that clean black hair, dragging Severus closer. Rosier’s mouth crushing down on his, stealing what Sirius could barely stop himself from imagining. Worse still—what if Snape let him ? What if that sharp mouth, those pink lips, kissed back ?

“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” Marlene’s voice cut in, brittle, startled by the rage etched into his face.

Even Remus finally looked up from his cake, fork paused midair, eyes fixed on Sirius with that quiet, piercing weight that always seemed to see too much.

“Don’t mind him, Marlene. Sirius just growls when someone else circles the bone he thinks is his,” Remus said lightly, almost amused.

Sirius flushed hot, the tips of his ears burning, because he knew exactly what Remus meant.

“Ha-ha, you guys are silly,” Marlene giggled, batting her lashes at Sirius again, and squeezing his arm even more

“Huh. What bone?” James asked, brows knitting, his tone caught somewhere between confusion and unease, he just hoped nothing will spoil his first date with Lily.

Remus set his fork down, leaning back with a humorless little smile. “The one both of you can’t stomach to throw away,” he said smoothly, tone pitched like a joke but carrying too much weight beneath it.

The girls laughed politely, but James stiffened, Sirius went redder, and Remus just cut another bite of cake, eyes lowered like he hadn’t said anything at all.

“How about we go to Honeydukes now?” Sirius said suddenly, forcing brightness into his tone. He leaned toward Marlene with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can pick out whatever you like—my treat.”

Marlene beamed, instantly mollified, and slid her hand into his arm. “Oh, I’d love that, Sirius.”

“You guys coming too?” he asked, glancing at the others.

James perked up immediately “Honeydukes? Always. Right, Lily?” He shot her a hopeful grin.

Lily rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Fine. But your treat as well”

Remus only gave a quiet shrug, pushing aside his untouched teacup. “Why not, I am low on chocolate frogs” he murmured, though his eyes lingered on Sirius a fraction too long.

Peter, meanwhile, lit up like a lantern. “Yes! Chocolate frogs!”

They laughed the whole way to Honeydukes—Peter babbling about sweets, Lily rolling her eyes, James puffing up like a peacock and flexing his arms, Sirius tossing sharp jokes, and Remus dryly quipping in just enough to keep the rhythm smooth.

But the second they stepped inside, the air shifted.

The Marauders’ faces went flat, every trace of laughter vanishing like smoke.

(Well—except Peter, who darted straight to the chocolate frogs.)

Because there he was.

He stood at the far corner, stiff-backed  while Rosier leaned too close, murmuring at his ear while pressing a box of chocolates into his hands like some ridiculous courtship gift.

Across the aisle, Andromeda argued lightly with Regulus over which sweets were worth buying, her laughter bright while Regulus looked stubborn, clutching a bag of fizzing whizbees like it was a prize.

And it looked like Severus was on a date with Rosier.

Which was exactly what made Sirius’s jaw clench.

James’s voice came out in a low snarl. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“The same thing you are, Potter,” Donna cut in before anyone else could, her arms crossing tight as she rolled her eyes. “Existing. In public. And from where I’m standing, it looks like he’s on a date—with that Slytherin alpha.”

Her voice was cool, edged with disdain, like she couldn’t fathom wasting breath on such a question. Already, she was regretting ever saying yes to this outing. Between Peter’s nervous fidgeting and the ridiculous tension radiating off the other three boys, Donna decided she’d rather hex herself back to Hogwarts than sit through one more minute of this mess.

Sirius barked out a laugh, but it sounded forced.

“Ha—ha. As if anyone would ever take that slimy git on a date.” His lip curled, sharp and mocking, though his jaw was  still tight. “At least it looks like he finally discovered what shampoo is.”

“Oh,” James muttered before he could stop himself, eyes narrowing. “So that’s what looked different about him…”

He caught himself quickly, sneer snapping back into place. “Maybe Rosier lent him some. Even that disgusting wannabe Death Eater couldn’t stomach Snivellus’s grease.”

“James,” Lily said sharply, her voice low with warning. She didn’t need to say another word—her glare was enough.

James was already backpedaling, stumbling over apologies. “Lily, I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—look, let me just—come on, I’ll buy you something, yeah? Anything you like.” He reached for her hand, tugging her toward the nearest display of sweets before she could scorch him further.

“Can you buy me some taffy too?” Marlene asked sweetly, tugging at his arm.

But Sirius wasn’t listening. His storm-grey eyes kept flicking across the shop, sharp and restless, locked on Severus and the way Rosier hovered too close, almost touching his face to Severus.

“Sirius?” Marlene tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. “Merlin’s sake, are you even listening to me? Or are you too busy staring at Snape to notice your actual date?” Marlene snapped, her voice carrying sharper than she intended.

Sirius’s head whipped toward her, jaw tight. “I wasn’t staring at him,” he bit out, a little too fast, a little too harsh. “Why the hell would I stare at Snivellus ? Don’t flatter him.”

Marlene arched a brow, unimpressed. “Funny, because your eyes haven’t left him since we walked in.”

Color flushed hot across Sirius’s cheekbones. He shoved a hand through his hair, huffing. “Just a minute, Marls, alright? I need to check if they’re not planning any Death Eater activities over there.”

Her eyes narrowed, unimpressed. “Sure. They’re plotting the Dark Lord’s grand takeover in the middle of Honeydukes.”

But Sirius had already turned away, gaze dragging back to Severus before he could stop himself.

“Oi, Snivelly!” Sirius’s voice cracked too loud across the shop, sharp enough to draw a few startled looks from other customers.

Severus froze, then turned his head slowly. His black eyes locked onto Sirius, cold and cutting, daggers in every inch of the glare.

Rosier didn’t even bother to sneer properly—he just arched a brow, his expression unimpressed, as if Sirius were a yapping dog making a scene in the middle of the sweets aisle.

Andromeda, meanwhile, gave a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under her breath to Regulus, who looked ready to hex his own brother.

“Enjoying your little Death Eater date?”

“Yes,” Severus replied, tone maddeningly lazy, as if Sirius were beneath notice. His gaze slid, deliberate, toward Marlene where she still stand in the center of the store not sure how should she react. “In fact, I am,” Severus continued smoothly. “I’d suggest you return to your own date—before she realizes you’d rather spend your time barking at mine.”

“Did you hear him, my little cousin?” Rosier said smugly, his grin wide as he slid an arm around Severus’s waist. “Now run along and bark at your little Muggle girlfriend.”

Severus didn’t flinch. His mouth tightened, unimpressed at Rosier’s hand on him, but he gave no outward sign of protest.

Sirius’s temper shattered, jealousy spiking sharp and hot. “Oh, that’s brilliant,” he snarled, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. “Last time you flinched from his touch—now you’re letting him drape his arms all over you?”

Severus’s eyes snapped to him, dark and unyielding. “Why do you even care, Black?” The words were sharp, but there was a flicker—confusion, maybe even surprise—behind them.

“Because Snivelly, my dear greasy—” Sirius burst out, the answer tearing up his throat before he could shape it.

but before could do any of that, a hand clamped on his arm, steady, grounding. “That’s enough, Padfoot,” Remus said firmly. “Don’t say something you’ll regret. Come on. Let’s get out of here and find a butterbeer.”

The onlookers still stared, whispers started to rise. Sirius’s chest heaved, the unsaid words clawing at him, caged in his throat. He let Remus steer him away.

He didn’t even look back. Didn’t even bother with a goodbye to James or Marlene, or anyone else.

Just pushed as fast as he could through the door with Remus on his side, the bell above it jangling sharp.

Severus snarled, turning his glare on Rosier. “Take your hands off me.”

Rosier only laughed, pulling back with exaggerated flair. “As you wish, Princess.” His smirk lingered, but he didn’t press further—he wasn’t foolish enough to test Severus boundaries with Andromeda watching like a mother hawk. It was the only reason they let him join on their outing - if he behaves.

“Well… Blacks are known for theatrics,” Andromeda said lightly, breaking the taut silence with a wry smile. Her tone was airy, but her eyes flicked between Severus and Rosier with sharp awareness.

“Maybe we should get out of here—bookstore?” she suggested, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have minded a butterbeer herself, but the last thing she wanted was to sit in the same room where Sirius Black might be brooding in a corner like a stormcloud.

On the other side of the shop, Lily was tearing into James, her voice sharp with outrage.

“Did you see that? He humiliated Marlene in front of everyone. Absolutely humiliated her. And for what—so he could bark at Snape like a rabid dog?”

James winced, shifting on his feet. “Lils, Marlene can handle herself—”

“She shouldn’t have to ,” Lily snapped, green eyes blazing. “It was supposed to be a date, and instead she got dragged into that . Do you have any idea how small he made her look?”

James’s mouth opened, then shut again. His loyalty to Sirius twisted in his gut, but he couldn’t ignore the flash of truth in her words. Marlene had looked crushed. And the worst part was—he couldn’t even blame her. Because she wasn’t wrong: Sirius hadn’t even looked at Marlene. His eyes had been on Snape . Always Snape.

And the bitter twist of it—James hated more than he could admit—was that he understood . He’d caught himself staring too, ever since that day in Potions. That scent. That sharp tongue. That impossible, infuriating pull.

His hand clenched around a bag of sweets until it crinkled. “Alright,” he muttered, forcing a grin that didn’t fit. “I’ll… I’ll have a word with him. Later.”

Lily huffed, unimpressed, but didn’t storm off. James counted it as a victory—while the hollow ache in his chest whispered otherwise.

“Geez, Padfoot, you should get a grip, or people really are gonna start talking,” Remus said, nursing his third glass of fire whiskey, voice just a little slurred.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Sirius snapped back, colder than he meant to.

“Really?” Remus tilted his head, eyes gleaming with mischief through the haze of drink. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I started courting Severus, right?”

Sirius froze. “Are you serious?”

“No,” Remus chuckled, lips quirking in a grin far too pleased with itself. “ You’re Sirius.” The joke was old, tired, overused—usually by Sirius himself.

“Wow. That joke’s terrible,” Sirius muttered, glaring into the golden liquid in his glass. “You guys were right—I should’ve retired it ages ago.”

“But really,” Remus pressed, his grin softening into something that wasn’t a joke at all, “can I?”

Sirius’s head snapped toward him. “Since when?” His voice was low, almost dangerous.

Remus lifted his glass, staring into it like the firewhisky might answer for him. “Since third year,” he said quietly. “Maybe even second.”

Sirius let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. “First train ride,” he said flatly, eyes burning into Remus’s. “I win.”

Remus’s mouth quirked, the corner lifting in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Win? Merlin, Sirius—you make it sound like he’s a prize. A bone you’re still growling over.”

“Oh, shut up and drink,” Sirius muttered, throwing back a long gulp of firewhisky, as if he could drown the heat rising in his chest.

“Guys! Guys, I found you!” James’s voice rang out across the tavern before he even reached their table. He barreled over, grinning so wide his face might split. “The date with Lily was amazing ! And before we said goodbye…” He paused for dramatic effect “She kissed me. On the cheek!”

He dropped into the chair opposite of them, practically glowing.

Sirius snorted into his firewhisky, nearly choking. “On the cheek? Merlin, Prongs, don’t explode from the passion.”

James shot him a glare but brushed it off, still high on Lily’s kiss. “Laugh all you want. That’s progress, mate. Actual, real progress.”

Remus hummed into his glass, but his eyes didn’t leave Sirius, who was flushed—half from drink, half from something sharper.

“Meanwhile,” James added, his grin faltering, “you nearly blew it with Marlene. What the hell were you even playing at in Honeydukes?”

Sirius blinked at him, whisky glass wobbling in his hand. “Ruined? I didn’t—wasn’t—” He gestured vaguely, nearly sloshing the drink. “I was just… keeping an eye, yeah? Important. Rosier—slimy git, hands everywhere—Sniv—Snape didn’t even—didn’t shove him off, can you believe that?” His words tangled, spilling out in a rush, sharp edges dulled by drink.

James frowned, brow furrowing. “You were loud enough half the shop heard. Marlene sure did. Looked ready to hex you into next week.”

Sirius huffed, too drunk to mask it. “Didn’t care about Marlene. Don’t—don’t care.” He caught himself too late, but the words hung there, raw and ugly.

Remus’s eyes flicked sideways, unreadable, while James just stared, baffled.

“But you’re not better, Remus!” James blurted, latching onto the nearest distraction. “Mary was complaining to Lily the whole walk back—said you were more interested in chocolates than her. And I don’t even want to talk about Peter and Donna.”

Remus only raised a brow, unimpressed, and took another sip of firewhisky. “Maybe I was.” His tone was calm, but there was an edge under it—one Sirius felt more than heard.

Sirius barked a laugh that came out too loud, too sharp. “Merlin’s balls, Moony. You’re hopeless. At least Wormtail tried .”

“That’s rich, Padfoot” James cut in, frown deepening as he looked between them. “Coming from the bloke who ditched Marlene mid-date to act all lovey dovey with Snivellus”

“Piss off, Prongs,” Sirius growled, taking another burning gulp of firewhisky. His words came out harsher than he meant, but the liquor loosened his tongue. “Like you’re any better—you see him and immediately forget Lily exists. Maybe try keeping your bloody fixation where it belongs—on her.”

James froze, blinking like he’d been slapped. “What the hell are you on about?” he snapped back, heat rising in his cheeks. “I don’t— Snivellus? Are you mad?”

But the way his voice cracked, the way he wouldn’t quite meet Sirius’s eyes, said otherwise.

“I love Lily. You know that. Always have. Don’t talk rot.”

The silence stretched.

Then Remus spoke, voice low, steady, cutting through the drunkness. “Funny,” he murmured, amber eyes glinting in the firelight, “because Sirius isn’t wrong. You do look at him like that. Always have.”

James’s jaw tightened. “You’re drunk, Padfoot. You too, Moony,” he muttered, his voice too quick, too sharp. “That’s the only reason you’re talking this bollocks.”

Sirius leaned forward, grin sharp as broken glass. “Oh, spare us, Prongs. Lily’s your cover. We all know you like the chase—but it wasn’t Evans you really wanted to chase, was it? It was Sniv. Always Sniv. And you couldn’t, so you’ve been barking up the wrong tree ever since, unless Evans holds the leash tighter.”

James went red, sputtering, half-rising from his chair. “Shut your mouth! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

But Sirius wasn’t done. He barked a laugh, cruel and giddy with the whiskey. “Don’t I? Merlin, Prongs—every time you talk about Evans, it’s not her you’re describing. Everything you gush about—‘Oh, she’s so brilliant, so clever, her Potions work is flawless, her sarcasm’s the sharpest I’ve ever heard’—that’s not Lily, that’s Snivellus. You’re so thick you don’t even realize it.”

The words landed like hexes. James froze, blood draining from his face, because Sirius wasn’t wrong—and Remus’s steady, knowing stare only drove the truth deeper.

Potter swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady though it cracked at the edges. “You’re both too pissed to know what you’re saying,” he muttered. “I’m not doing this. I’m going.”

He pushed up from his chair a little too fast, nearly toppling Sirius glass and stalked toward the stairs without another glance, but Sirius couldn’t choke it down. The jealousy burned too sharp, too bitter.

“Yeah, run back to Evans, Prongs,” Sirius called after him, words slurred with firewhiskey and venom. “She’s safer to pine over than the bloke you actually want. And… don’t think I’ve forgotten what you told me in first year!”

James froze mid-stride, shoulders rigid, but he didn’t turn. After a beat, he stormed off faster, the door slamming behind him.

“Wait….What did he say?” Asked curiously Remus but Sirius was already in another glass pretending not to hear his friend question and Lupin knew better not to push.

Sirius woke with his skull splitting in two. His mouth tasted like ash and bile, and the sunlight slicing through the curtains felt like knives behind his eyes.

He groaned, dragging a pillow over his head. Merlin’s balls, he was sure he was dying. The evening before was a blur, and he wasn’t even sure how he’d managed to stumble back into the dormitory in one piece.

He grunted and rolled over, squinting through the light to see if anyone else was still there. He wasn’t even sure what time it was. Remus was still asleep, face buried in his pillow. James, too—though even in sleep, his jaw was tight, as if he were grinding his teeth. Peter’s bed was empty, likely off at breakfast, stuffing his face.

James’s eyes fluttered open, lids heavy. He shifted, frowning faintly as though he could feel someone staring at him.

“Morning, Prongs,” Sirius rasped, his voice hoarse.

“G’morning,” James muttered back, his voice thick with sleep.

Sirius hesitated, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Hey… I was really pissed last night. I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

James grabbed the nearest pillow and lobbed it weakly at him. “No,” he said. “But you shouldn’t drink that much, Pads.”

Sirius gave a rough laugh, relieved. “Fair enough.” He stretched, wincing at the ache in his head, and murmured something about going to take a shower before dragging himself upright.

James watched him go, lips pressed thin. Sirius’s drunken words still echoed in his skull: “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you told me in first year.”

Merlin. Why had Sirius even remembered that? He was an idiot back then—he hadn’t known what he was saying.

But the memory came back, sharp as a blade. He could still hear his own voice, too loud with excitement:

“That boy is something else, eh? His eyes are so big! And so dark—I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like that. And the way he was crying—it was kind of… cute. I couldn’t stop myself staring and tease him even more. Too bad he wants to be a snake. But the girl’s alright too—my parents told me I should look for a Muggle-born, better for the lineage. I think they’d be happy with someone like that, you know? She’s pretty, I guess. What do you think?”

The memory burned. His cheeks flamed hot even now, years later.

James shoved it down, hard, burying his face into the pillow. But the memory sharpened anyway

Not just what he had said, but Sirius’s reaction—careless and cocky on the surface, but already edged with something sharper:

“You definitely should go with that girl. She looks like Gryffindor material—or Hufflepuff at worst. And you two would make a perfect match.”

Then the smirk, quick and biting: “The boy’s greasy, James. Don’t touch him. Ever.”

It had sounded like mockery then. But now, looking back, James heard it differently. Too fast. Too forceful. Not just mockery, but warning. Possessive. Like Sirius had needed to stake a claim before James could even finish the thought.

Even back then, before either of them had words for it—Sirius hadn’t wanted him looking at Snape.

And Merlin help him, James realized, cheeks burning as he shoved the pillow harder over his head, that was the moment he’d let himself be steered toward Lily.

The Great Hall on Sundays was quieter, stripped of Saturday noise. Sunlight slanted through the high windows, catching dust motes in golden haze.

At the Slytherin table, Andromeda leaned lazily over her porridge, Regulus chattered about Quidditch practice, and Severus let their voices blur into the background.

Rosier wasn’t with them today. He had taken the far end of the table with Lucius and Mulciber, their heads bent close in that self-important way.

Severus pushed an egg around his plate, appetite thin. His mind kept dragging back—against his will—to the scene at Honeydukes.

Black, snarling like a rabid dog in the middle of a sweet shop. The way his voice had cracked when he shouted ‘ last time you flinched .’ Why did he remember that? Why was he watching so closely? And why he even helped him last time?

Severus’s jaw tightened. Foolish. None of it mattered. He should have dismissed it the way he dismissed every other childish taunt. And yet—

And yet something about it gnawed at him.

Because he could still smell him.

That dangerous, treacherous thought slithered up before he could crush it. He’d noticed it before— in cramped classrooms, too close in corridors. Black’s scent wasn’t like other alphas he smelled before. Not all smoke and musk and sharpness. No. Sirius carried something else.

He smelled like rain soaking into stone. Like the pages of books left too long open. Like coffee—slightly sweet, but never too sweet, and ever too bitter, either, just exactly like the coffee he likes.

Severus eyed his coffee cup with sudden disgust. The smell turned his stomach. He shoved it aside, harder than necessary, and reached for the teapot instead.

Regulus faltered mid-sentence, blinking at him. “Since when do you drink tea at breakfast?”

“Since now,” Severus said flatly while pouring the steaming liquid in a new cup.

Chapter Text

 Severus was tired. Tired of trying to scrape Sirius Black out of his head like some stubborn stain, tired of catching those sidelong glances across classrooms and corridors. Worse, every time he turned his head, Black would flush red and snap his gaze away, quick as a guilty child. That wasn’t like him. Not at all.

And it wasn’t just Black. Lupin had been acting strangely too, watching with a heavy gaze, looking as though he wanted to say something but with the words caught in his throat. Even Potter seemed distracted, his usual arrogance blunted, his eyes lingering too long before darting away.

It all pointed to one conclusion : a prank was coming.

He was heading toward Potions when two Gryffindor omegas suddenly intercepted him. They were the same girls that tried to talk to him after potions two weeks ago.

“Hi,” one said nervously, glancing around as though expecting someone to jump out. “Can we talk for a bit?”

Every hair on Severus’s neck stood on end. Perfect. They were clearly part of Black’s latest scheme. His grip on his book bag tightened.

“Make it quick,” he snapped.

The taller girl fumbled a smile. “I’m Emma. This is Ravana. We were wondering if you’d like to hang out with us sometime?”

“Why?” His voice was sharp, suspicious.

“Because… we’re all omegas,” Emma explained, a little too eager. “And also—well—we’re having a party. Not only omegas will be there, so you could even invite Andromeda Black and your boyfriend.”

Severus stopped dead. “My what ?”

“Your boyfriend,” Ravana blurted quickly. “The tall blonde one with icy blue eyes… I think his name’s sort of like Lily’s last name—Evian?”

“You mean Evan Rosier?” Severus’s lips twitched, almost against his will. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh! Sorry—we just thought, since he’s always beside you—”

“Then it must be Black’s little brother, right?” Emma added, too brightly, too fast.

Severus’s eyes went glacial. “Is this a joke?”

“No, no! Don’t think that,” Ravana rushed, glaring at Emma like she wanted to hex her on the spot. “I’m sorry—Emma just… likes to match people up.” She fumbled in her bag and shoved an envelope toward him. “Here. Invitation. You can bring up to four friends.”

“And our parties are always fun!” Emma chirped again, desperate now. “This one’s in the Hufflepuff common room! So—like—a neutral ground, you know?”

“I’ll think about it,” Severus said coolly, tucking the envelope away.

The two girls exchanged a relieved look, their scents softening into something calm, almost content. Omegas were known to stick together, to build little networks of comfort and safety. Severus wasn’t used to that. Solitude had always been easier, quieter, safer.

But he couldn’t quite say he minded Andromeda’s sharp wit beside him, or Regulus’s quiet loyalty. Their presence didn’t feel suffocating. Not like a trap. Perhaps this—what Emma and Ravana were offering—wasn’t entirely foolish either.

“You should go,” Andromeda said, still rereading the invitation. Her tone was casual but warm, as though it weren’t really a suggestion at all. They were all sitting under the tree by the lake, the afternoon sun spilling across the grass.

Regulus plucked at the blades of grass by his knee, scowling faintly. “I don’t see the point. Hufflepuff parties are full of noise and bad music. And too many people.”

Andromeda shot him a look, fond but exasperated. “That’s the point, Reggie. Socializing. Besides, you don’t have to sulk—Sev can bring up to four people. Maybe he’ll even be nice enough to bring you.”

“As if I’d waste my time at some Hufflepuff gathering,” he muttered.

“I hoped you would—I have a date that night,” Andromeda said breezily.

Regulus’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “A what ?”

Severus blinked, caught between shock and suspicion.

Andromeda glanced up, arching a brow at their stunned expressions. “Why are you looking at me like that? Surely you don’t think I spend all my time babysitting the pair of you?”

Regulus sputtered, face twisting. “Who is it?”

“None of your business,” she replied smoothly, though her smirk betrayed how much she was enjoying their reactions. “Anyway, I hope you two will go.”

“I actually… might,” Severus said, not quite sure of his own words.

Regulus jerked upright, staring.

“Perfect,” Andromeda declared, clasping her hands together. “Our little Severus is growing up.”

Severus scowled. “ Might doesn’t mean for sure.”

“Potato, tomato, Severus. So—Regulus, would you be so kind as to accompany our dear Severus to the party?”

Color rose high on Regulus’s cheeks. He started to speak, then bit it back, scowling at the grass like it had betrayed him.

Still, his eyes slid sideways—just a flicker toward Severus, hesitant, expectant. Of course he wanted to go; he always did when Severus was involved. But to say it aloud, to sound too eager? The words jammed in his throat.

So he kept silent, waiting. Hoping Severus would be the one to ask.

“I suppose…” Severus said at last, voice measured, “it wouldn’t be that insufferable if Regulus came too..Would you?”

Regulus’s head snapped up, cheeks still warm. “Fine,” he muttered, a little too quickly. “I’ll go.”

“How nice,” Andromeda said brightly. “But that means you still can bring three more people. Do you have anyone in mind?”

For a split second, an image of Sirius and his two idiots friends flickered through Severus’s mind—unbidden, unwanted. He shoved it away as fast as it came. “No,” he said shortly, sharper than he meant.

“Well then,” Andromeda went on, “do you have any decent Muggle clothes to wear? I feel like playing dress-up with you, Sev. It would be lovely if Narcissa could help me.”

“Narcissa has excellent taste in clothes,” Regulus added earnestly, as if this were a matter of deep importance.

Severus gave them both a long, withering look. “Wonderful. Shall we parade me through Madam Malkin’s while we’re at it? Maybe hire a fitting room audience to applaud?”

Andromeda only smirked, unbothered. “Don’t tempt me.”

Andromeda hadn’t been joking. Between her and Narcissa, Severus was reduced to a life-sized doll—pinned, prodded, and judged with ruthless precision. Fabrics were draped over his shoulders, collars yanked this way and that, his hair brushed, braided, undone, and braided again as if he were some mannequin in Madam Malkin’s window.

He sat stiff as a board, silently praying no one else walked into the Prefect bathroom.

“Okay, Cissy, look at that,” Andromeda said proudly, stepping back as if she were unveiling a masterpiece. “I think it’s the best so far.”

Narcissa pursed her lips, tilting her head in appraisal. She circled Severus like a pray, eyes sharp, fingers lifting the edge of a sleeve. “Hmm. Yes… it’s acceptable. The color works with his skin tone.”

Severus gave a long-suffering sigh. “Thrilled to hear I’ve achieved the rank of acceptable. “

““Of course….” Narcissa drawled, waving a dismissive hand at the fabric draped over him. “I would prefer something more… decent than these Muggle rags. But it’s a Hufflepuff party, after all. Standards will be low.”

Andromeda snorted. “Oh, don’t be such a snob, Cissy. He looks good.”

“He’d look dashing in proper wizard robes,” Narcissa insisted, lips pursed in thought. “Picture it—emerald green, silver trim. Regal.“

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Please, it’s a party, not a ministry gala. He looks like a Muggle rock star, Cissy! You wouldn’t know—you’re basically a grandma.”  Then her face lit up, wickedly delighted. “Oh! Let’s put eyeliner on him.”

“Regulus, please stop looking at me,” Severus hissed under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Regulus said quickly, though his gaze lingered anyway. “But I have to admit… Narcissa and Andromeda did a really good job with your clothes. Did Cissy also braid your hair?”

“…Yes.”

Regulus’s cheeks flashed hot. “It looks… pretty.” The word slipped out before he could stop himself, and he had to glance away, embarrassed. But his eyes betrayed him, dragging back, stealing glances he couldn’t control.

And how could they not? Severus looked nothing like the shadow who usually skulked through the dungeons. The burgundy silk shirt clung just enough, the V-neck drawing the eye to the line of his throat where two layered silver chains rested against pale skin. His sleeves were pushed to the elbows, silver rings glinting on long, elegant fingers. The black trousers fit close, sharp without being gaudy. Dark eyeliner framed his obsidian eyes, making them seem deeper, more dangerous.

And then the hair—half tied, half loose, the braid pulling it from his face to sharpen the cut of his cheekbones.

Regulus swallowed. Severus didn’t just look good. He looked dangerous. He looked magnetic.

Beside him, Regulus looked every inch the heir of a pure-blood dynasty—tailored black dress shirt fitted close, a silver serpent pin gleaming at his collar, the cuffs secured with matching links. His dark hair was drawn into a sleek net at the nape of his neck, polished and deliberate. On the surface it was family pride; in truth, he wanted Severus to notice.

Severus shifted, shoulders stiffening. His gaze swept the room, catching the stares following him, and his lip curled. “Ugh. Everyone is looking. I knew it was a mistake coming to this bloody party. Let’s go back.”

But before he could escape, two Gryffindor girls latched onto him—Emma on one side, Ravana on the other—slipping their arms through his like it was nothing new.

“Snape! You came!” Emma beamed, she was wearing a short red velvet dress   with puff sleeves and a cinched waist.

“Finally,” Ravana added with a grin, tugging him a step forward. Her dress was black, short with sequins “You clean up better than most of the alphas in here. Everyone’s going to be jealous.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed, and his voice cut through before Severus could answer.

“He didn’t clean up for you.”

Emma faltered, blinking at him. Ravana, however, only arched a brow, amused.

“Oh? And who did he clean up for, then?” she asked, her tone sly, baiting.

“Wait—you’re Sirius’s little brother, aren’t you?” Emma asked suddenly, eyes flicking between Regulus and Severus. “I thought you said he’s not your boy—”

“He’s here as a friend,” Severus cut in smoothly “I was told I could bring four.”

“Sure!” Emma chirped brightly. “What about the other one—Rosier… Evian?”

“Rosier. Evan,” Severus corrected flatly, his expression unreadable.

“What about him?” Regulus seized the opening, his voice a little too quick “Are you perhaps interested in him?” His grey eyes flicked toward Emma, almost hopeful. If Rosier found another omega to fixate on, maybe he’d finally leave Severus alone.

“Ugh, no—he looks like he’s always constipated,” Emma blurted before she could stop herself. Her eyes went wide and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

But Severus was already laughing. Quiet at first, then fuller, richer, sharp shoulders shaking in a way Regulus had never seen before.

Ravana grinned, delighted. “Well, there’s a first—someone actually got Snape to laugh that loud.”

And Regulus just stared, caught between relief and the strange, unsettling warmth of watching Severus laugh that freely,  a small smirk tugged at his own mouth too.

“I almost regretted coming here,” Severus said at last, wiping at the corners of his eyes. “But that one comment alone made it worth it.”

“Of course! I told you our parties are fun,” Ravana declared, looking pleased with herself. She gave Severus’s arm a playful tug. “Come on, let’s get something to drink.”

Then her gaze flicked to Regulus, mischief sparking. “Er—wait. How old are you? Are you even allowed to drink?”

“Definitely not,” Severus said before Regulus could open his mouth. “He can have a butterbeer.”

Regulus’s cheeks went scarlet. He clenched his jaw, looking away sharply. Of course. To Severus, he was still the child, the tagalong—someone to protect, not… anything else.

And Regulus hated how much that confirmation stung.

“Severus, stop mothering your friend! Let him have some fun,” Ravana teased, giving him a playful slap between the shoulders.

Severus shot her a sharp look, one brow arching. Since when had they become “Severus” and not “Snape”? He opened his mouth to ask but thought better of it, closing it with a thin line instead.

“You know what would make it more fun?” she added, her eyes glinting as she drew her wand. With a flick, two more cups floated into Emma’s waiting hands. “You should link arms while drinking—like this.”

Emma laughed, looping her arm through Ravana’s with ease before tipping her cup. Ravana winked at Severus and Regulus expectantly.

“No, thank you,” Severus said flatly, already reaching to set his cup down.

“Oh, come on,” Ravana argued, rolling her eyes. Before he could stop her, she caught his wrist and tugged his arm toward Regulus. “It’s just a bit of fun—.”

In one smooth motion, she linked Severus’s arm with his.

Regulus froze, his face burning so hot it made him dizzy. Their sleeves brushed as their arms linked, nothing more than fabric against fabric, but it still felt like a spark. His cup wobbled in his grip, nearly spilling, and he had to steady it with both hands.

He tried not to breathe too deeply, but Severus’s scent was right there. Not like the cloying sweetness of other omegas. Severus smelled different—like strong black tea, steady and grounding, with the faintest hint of honey. It went straight to Regulus’s chest, left him warm and restless.

He’d always liked Severus. Always wanted to be close, wanted to matter to him. But he’d never said it—too afraid Severus would sneer, or worse, push him away.

And yet here they were, arms linked, cups raised together. Just a stupid party trick. Nothing more.

Still, Regulus couldn’t stop the quiet thrill that ran through him. For a moment, it felt like he belonged at Severus’s side.

Severus exhaled through his nose, long-suffering, as if it were nothing more than an inconvenience. But when he finally lifted his cup, Regulus followed instantly—obedient, clumsy, his hand still trembling despite his best effort to steady it.

They drank like that, arms bound together, both of them carefully looking anywhere but at each other. Regulus’s heart beat hard enough he was sure Severus could hear it.

Emma clapped like it was the best entertainment of the night. Ravana only smirked, satisfied with herself.

From across the room, a familiar voice split the noise like a curse.

“What the hell are you doing with my brother?!”

He was already stomping toward them, grey eyes locked on Severus and Regulus’s linked arms. Heads turned, whispers sparking as the party seemed to stumble around the outburst.

Lily’s gaze snapped to James, her expression thunderous. “You told me he’d behave,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp enough to flay.

James winced, rubbing the back of his neck like he wished he could disappear. “He—he promised,” he mumbled, though the excuse was drowned out by Sirius’s boots striking closer, each step louder than the last.

Sirius shoved past a pair of bewildered Hufflepuffs, his glare fixed like a curse.

“Get your hands off him, Snivellus. And you—” his finger jabbed toward Regulus, “—you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

Regulus shot to his feet before Severus could even react, shoulders squaring, voice tight with fury. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Really?” Sirius barked, lip curling. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re making a bloody fool of yourself.”

“You’re the only one making a fool of yourself, dear brother,” Regulus snarled, chin lifting as to look taller than Sirius.

“Merlin’s sake, Sirius,” Ravana cut in, rolling her eyes. “Stop throwing a tantrum and have some punch.”

Sirius rounded on her, furious. “Why would you even invite him?” He jabbed a finger toward Severus, grey eyes burning.

“Funny,” Ravana replied sweetly, not missing a beat, “I don’t remember inviting you .”

A flush crept up Sirius’s neck before he could stop it. “Lily invited me,”

“Then stop making a scene,” Ravana shot back, her smile razor-thin. “Your little brother’s chastity is safe—they were just drinking. Unless you’d like me to stop inviting Lily to these parties because one of her friends doesn’t know how to behave?”

“Whatever,” Sirius bit out, jaw tight. “If my little brother wants to get his hands greasy, that’s his business.” His gaze flicked to Severus then, storm-grey eyes sweeping him up and down “And you—what the hell are you even dressed as? A bloody vampire?”

“Mutt,” Severus hissed, the word dripping like poison off his tongue. His black eyes flicked over Sirius—black leather jacket thrown over a half-buttoned shirt, chains at his throat glinting under the light, trousers cut sharp enough to look rebellious but deliberate. He looked every inch like an arrogant rock star, storm-grey eyes burning with some wild mix of fury and something Severus refused to name.

Of course he looked handsome—damn him—but the thought only sharpened the insult that burned on Severus’s lips, ready to be flung, cruel and cutting But  Emma was fasterwith her reply bright and beaming as always.

“If he looks like a vampire, then he looks like a sexy vampire.”

Severus froze, color rushing hot up his neck, betraying him before he could muster a retort.

“Indeed he does,” another voice slipped in, smooth and low. Remus had stepped closer, a faint, almost lazy smile tugging at his lips. “I mean…” He cleared his throat, eyes dragging over the burgundy silk. “You really do look nice, Sev—Snape. That shirt suits you.”

Sirius barked a laugh, harsh and brittle, teeth flashing. “Oh, brilliant. Moony handing out fashion compliments now? What’s next—gonna ask him to twirl for you?”

Severus regarded Remus for a moment,  ignoring Sirius completely. Then he inclined his head, voice cool and precise.

“Thank you, Lupin. You don’t look bad yourself.”

On the surface, it was simple courtesy. But the way his eyes slid deliberately toward Sirius as he said it made the words land like a challenge.

“Uh—thank you,” Remus replied, caught off guard, not at all prepared for a compliment from Severus of all people. He shifted, clearing his throat, then ventured, “Would you… like to dance?”

There was a beat of silence. Severus tilted his head, as though weighing the indignity of it.

“…Very well.”

and extended a hand toward Remus. His dark eyes, however, flicked once more to Sirius—watching him with cool detachment, almost daring him to speak.

Sirius froze, standing stiff and useless, like his body had forgotten how to move. The smirk was gone from his face, his chest knotted tight with something he couldn’t name, couldn’t swallow down. It felt wrong—like a bad dream he should’ve woken from by now. Any second, he thought, it would all snap back to normal.

But it didn’t. He just stood there, burning, watching as Snape— Snape —placed his hand in Remus’s and let himself be led away.

Chapter Text

The castle was thinning out, laughter echoing down the corridors as students hauled their trunks toward the carriages. Talk of Christmas feasts and family gatherings hung in the air, warm as mulled cider.

“Padfoot,” James said, tossing his broomstick into its case, “Mum’s already expecting you. She’ll be insulted if you don’t come. You know how she gets.”

Sirius didn’t look up from the armchair, boots stretched toward the fire. “Your mum’s brilliant. But I’m not going.”

“Not going?” James blinked. “You’d rather rot here with Filch and his bloody cat for company?”

The fire cracked. Remus looked up from his book, tone mild, almost lazy.

“He won’t be alone. Snape’s staying too.”

The words dropped like a stone.

James froze, mouth half-open before he shut it tight. Sirius caught the flicker—the one that always betrayed him: too fast, too defensive whenever Snape’s name came up. Lily was his now, but that didn’t stop the thoughts of Slytherin. Sirius saw it. Sirius hated it.

“So what?” he snapped. “Who cares if Snivelly’s staying? He’ll just haunt the dungeons like the ghost he is.”

“Maybe I should stay too,” Remus hummed, flipping a page.

Sirius shot him a look—already bristling, territorial.

James’s head whipped over. “Don’t even joke about that, Moony. That Hufflepuff party was enough—watching you dance with him. For a second I thought you were about to snog in the middle of the floor. Why would you even do that?” His mouth twisted like the memory soured on his tongue.

Remus didn’t flinch. He turned another page, voice unbothered.

“It probably looked worse to you than it was. But that’s because you and Lily keep it to pecks on the cheek. Compared to that, anything else looks scandalous.”

“Ha!” Sirius barked, grinning wolfishly. “He’s right, Prongs. Half the school’s betting on when you’ll finally grow a pair and actually snog her. No wonder a bit of dancing looked like a bloody orgy to you.”

“You don’t get it,” James snapped, sitting straighter. “None of you have loved anyone the way I love Lily. It’s different—it’s real. And I treat her like a gentleman should.”

“Or maybe Evans is a prude,” Sirius drawled. “Tell me—how are those dates? Sharing notes? Long, thrilling evenings of homework?” The smirk didn’t sit right. If only he could be as open about what—or who—he wanted.

“Mmm. I heard you made it to second base—Evans let you copy her homework,” Remus added, dry as dust.

Sirius caught Remus’s eye; the corner of his mouth twitched. A second later both of them cracked, laughter spilling out, until James groaned and lobbed a pillow at their heads.

—

Sirius had a plan. Sort of.

Well—calling it a plan was generous. It mostly boiled down to: get Snape to talk to him, somehow convince him he wasn’t the worst bastard alive, and then—if the stars aligned—maybe even snog him.

Only he didn’t know how to begin. He couldn’t even hold Severus’s gaze now without the shame tightening like a noose around his throat. The words he’d thrown still echoed in his head, sharp and ugly. He wanted to rip them back, tear them out of existence, erase them from Severus’s memory altogether.

__

Sirius caught him in the doorway. Literally stepped into his path, blocking the narrow arch that led back toward the dungeons. His pulse was thundering, his palms damp, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to lift his eyes to meet Severus’s.

“Snape,” he started, voice rough. “Just—wait. I need to—”

Severus’s lip curled. His eyes narrowed, obsidian and cold. “You reek of firewhisky. Spare me your slurred apologies.”

“I’m not drunk,” Sirius bit back, though the words came too quick, too desperate. “I just—”

A cackle cut through the corridor. Peeves swooped overhead, eyes gleaming like lanterns,  a mistletoe dangling from his fingers.

“Ohhh, lookie here! Doggie and Batty, sulking in the dark! What a pair, what a pair!” He zoomed lower, dangling the mistletoe just above their heads. “Go on, smooch! Give Peevsie a Christmas treat!”

Sirius’s chest went tight. For half a second, he almost laughed it off—until he looked at Severus, at the sharp line of his cheekbones in the torchlight. Something in him snapped. “Fine,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

And he leaned in.

Severus’s eyes went wide for the barest instant, before his hand shot up, sharp and vicious. The slap cracked across Sirius’s cheek, hot and stinging, leaving him reeling.

“Don’t you dare,” Severus spat, voice low and trembling with fury. His shoulders stiff, he turned and strode away, black robes snapping behind him.

Sirius stood frozen, cheek burning, shame flooding his chest.

Above him, Peeves clapped his hands in glee, spinning circles in the air.

“Ohhh, rejected! Rejected! Slap for the mutt, no kiss for the bat! What a Christmas gift, what a perfect night!

Ring the bells and bang the pot,

Snape hates Black—oh, hates him a lot! ”

He sang it like a carol, howling with laughter as his voice echoed down the corridor.

Sirius spotted him at last, hunched over a stack of books in the far corner of the library. Perfect. He strode over, dropped something onto the table with a loud bang that made Severus jolt.

It was a box, neatly wrapped in green-and-silver paper with a biggest red bow he could find slapped on top.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “What,” he whispered, voice low and cutting, “is that supposed to mean?”

“A gift, you—” Sirius bit off the insult at the last second, jaw twitching. “Christmas gift,” he forced out instead.

“I don’t want it,” Severus muttered, turning back to his book.

“You—why are you like this?” Sirius hissed. “Just take it, you ungrateful—”

“Mr. Black.” Madame Pince’s voice sliced through the air, sharp as a curse. “Quiet. Or you leave.”

Severus smirked faintly. “See what you’ve done, mutt? This is a library, not your kennel. Try a muzzle.”

Sirius’s temper flared, hot and instant. “You greasy bat—can’t you just open a gift like a normal person for once in your life?”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Severus snapped, eyes glinting. “It’s probably covered in dog slobber.”

“Is not—” Sirius lunged for the box, trying to shove it closer, but Severus pushed it back, the two of them hissing under their breath like cats in a brawl.

That was the end of Madame Pince’s patience. She swooped in, eyes blazing. “OUT. Both of you. OUT!” and she herded them both toward the doors.

The door slammed shut behind them, Madame Pince’s glare still burning in the back of their necks.

“Thank you, Black. Because of you, I was kicked out of the library,” Severus snarled, his voice low and venomous.

Sirius rolled his eyes, clutching the package. “Take it as a bloody blessing, Snape. You don’t want to spend the entire Christmas locked up in there, do you?”

Severus’s lip curled. “I would love too if you hadn’t shoved your mutt nonsense in my face.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d just taken the gift,” Sirius shot back, stepping closer, his voice impatient.

“I told you—I don’t want your present.”

“Just—take it. It’s not a prank, alright?” Sirius’s tone cracked on the last word

Severus’s eyes narrowed, sharp and suspicious. “Then what is it?”

Sirius let out a hard breath through his nose, jaw tight. “A book. Potions. Old edition—the oldest I could find. Exactly the kind of thing you’re always burying your nose in.”

Severus scrunched his nose, suspicion written all over his face. For a moment, Sirius thought he would throw the gift back at him out of sheer spite. But instead, with a sharp huff, Severus snatched the presnet and turned it over in his hands.

The wrapping earned an immediate sneer - Slytherin-green smothered with an oversized Gryffindor-red bow. “Typical Gryffindor. Subtle as a Bludger.”

Even so, he unwrapped it with practiced care, fingers precise, as if expecting something nasty to spring out at him. The paper fell away to reveal an old, leather-bound book, its spine cracked but solid, the title stamped in faded gold.

For half a heartbeat his eyes flickered, something quick and unguarded, before his mask slipped back into place. “Where did you even get this? Steal it off the Restricted Section?“

“In a way,” Sirius said with a shrug. “It used to be in my parents’ library. I had Regulus sneak it out for me. You know I’m not exactly welcome there anymore.“

He hesitated, then added, almost awkwardly: “So… do you like it?”

Severus ran a hand over the worn spine, lingering for a second too long before catching himself. “Yes… yes, I do.” His tone softened despite himself. “Thank you, Black.”

For a beat, Sirius only stared, caught off guard by the quiet thanks. It was so un-Snape-like that he almost missed it. Then, slowly, a grin curved at his mouth, smug creeping back in to cover the surprise.

“Huh. Never thought I’d hear those words from you.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Snape muttered, holding the book closer. “I don’t have anything for you though.”

Sirius’s smirk slipped, his voice dropping low. “Then give me your forgiveness.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Sirius let out a rough breath, running a hand through his hair. “Because it’s all I want. It’s what keeps me up at night. All the shit I did to you, all the years of it—and the things I said last time… I’m sorry.”

Severus didn’t move. His face stayed carved from stone, black eyes locked on him with a weight that made Sirius’s chest tighten. The silence dragged, thick and heavy, Sirius almost wished Snape would just hex him instead.

Severus’s eyes narrowed, the silence finally breaking. His voice came out low, deliberate, cutting straight through Sirius.

“Maybe… maybe I’ll consider forgiving you. But not before you answer me a few things.”

Sirius’s throat tightened. “Like what?”

Severus stepped closer, clutching the book to his chest like a shield. “Why did you try to kiss me under that mistletoe?” His eyes flicked, “Why did you pull Rosier off me when you could’ve stood back and laughed like always? And why, Black—” his voice sharpened, accusing, “—did you make a scene at Honeydukes, shouting at me like I belonged to you?”

The questions hung between them, hot and heavy

“Why?” Sirius laughed, sharp and humorless. “Because apparently I’ve lost my bloody mind. Because every time you’re near someone else, I want to claw their eyes out. Because you’re the one person in this damned castle I can’t stop watching even when I want to. That’s your answer, Snape. Happy?”

Severus’s fingers dug into the book, the old leather groaning under the pressure. For a moment he stood frozen, caught in the pull of Sirius’s storm-grey eyes—wild, desperate, hungry in a way that made it hard to breathe.

“You’re a bloody lunatic, Black,” he managed, but the words cracked, weaker than he meant.

“Maybe, I am” Sirius said, voice rough, close to breaking, “but you’re the one driving me mad.”

The words hit like a curse. They were too close now—Sirius’s breath brushing his mouth, his scent crashing over him: sharp rain, clean parchment, the bitter kick of coffee, restless as thunder in the air.

Severus’s own scent betrayed him—woodsmoke curling darker, honey slipping sweet beneath it, black tea steeped low and grounding. The mix tangled between them, hot and suffocating, pulling the corridor taut.

For one reckless heartbeat, Severus leaned in—just the barest tilt, his book useless between them, his body answering before his mind could stop it.

Then he wrenched away, clutching the spine until it creaked. His voice came out brittle

“Stay away from me.”

He turned, robes snapping as he strode off, honey-smoke trailing in the cold air.

Sirius stayed rooted, fists clenched, chest heaving, his rain-and-coffee scent still sparking sharp in the space between them—the ghost of something that hadn’t happened, and the maddening certainty that it would.

Sirius had hunted for Severus everywhere—corridors, library, even the bloody greenhouses—but nothing. He needed to know if Snape had felt it too. Because Sirius knew what he saw. It hadn’t just been him leaning in. Severus had moved, however small, and Sirius couldn’t let it go.

At least he had one advantage: James’s map. Left behind with one condition— don’t use it to follow Snape. Sirius had sworn, fingers crossed behind his back. It’s for Filch, he’d said.

Filch, his arse.  What James didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

He pulled the parchment from his trunk, tapped it, whispered the words, and watched the castle sprawl ink itself across the page. His eyes found the name instantly, neat cursive in the dungeons. Severus Snape.

“Damn,” Sirius muttered. “How the hell am I supposed to get in there?”

He couldn’t wait. Not with the memory burning in his head. So he stole James’s cloak, crept down to the Slytherin entrance, and waited. Heart hammering, breath fogging under the fabric, ears straining for footsteps—like some loyal dog crouched outside the door, waiting to be let in.

No one came.

An hour dragged by. Then three. By the fourth, he was slumped against the stones, dozing, only to jolt awake at the clink of boots. His heart leapt—then sank when the map showed not Severus, but bloody Filch. Sirius cursed and slunk back upstairs. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow.

But the next day, Snape’s name never moved. Not once. Just stayed locked in the dormitory. The third day dragged no differently. Sirius was raw with frustration, restless enough to corner Pomfrey and toss the question out—half a joke, half a plea—whether Snape was ill. Her eyes narrowed, sharp as a hex, and she cut him down with two words: “Sensitive information.”

So he prowled. Circling the dungeon entrance like a dog on a too-short leash, nights restless, mornings worse, every hour winding him tighter.

It was the fourth day, the morning sun was creeping in his dormitory, he hadn’t slept at all. Just tossed, stared at the ceiling, replaying the almost-kiss until it hollowed him out. Finally, he dragged the map onto his knees, wand tapping the parchment with a muttered oath.

And then—finally—it shifted.

Severus Snape. The name moved. Out of the dungeons. Toward the Great Hall.

Sirius nearly fell out of bed. He yanked on his clothes in a blur, hair wild, blood thrumming in his ears. He bolted for the door, throwing the map carelessly on the bed, chasing the name like he’d go mad if he lost it again.

Sirius caught him just before the Great Hall doors, chest heaving like he’d sprinted the whole castle (because practically he did).

“Sni—Snape. Wait… I need to talk to you.”

Again?” Severus drawled, one brow arched, though his heart gave a sharp, disloyal twist at the sight of Black flushed and panting “I’m not in the mood for your endless yapping. It’s too early.”

Sirius winced, still catching his breath. “Don’t be like that. I’m sure even you can manage a sensible conversation.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you?” Severus’s mouth curved, venom-smooth. “I rather doubt it you would be able to hold one yourself... Didn’t I tell you to stay away from me?” His voice dropped, sharp . “Or is following commands beyond the mutt’s training?”

“Why are you like this, you little sh—” Sirius bit it back, his jaw flexing. “Snape. You and I both know I won’t back off. So let’s just… talk.”

Severus tilted his head, dark eyes narrowing as a slow smirk curved his mouth. A thought struck him—sharp, petty, perfect. The sort of condition Black would never agree to.

“Very well,” he said at last, voice smooth with challenge. “On one condition.” He let the pause drag, savoring it. “We’ll talk at the Slytherin table.”

It was meant to be a trap, the kind Sirius would sooner choke on than walk into. Severus braced himself, waiting for the sneer, the insult, the storming off.

But Sirius only grinned, bright and reckless, grey eyes catching the light. “Fine.”

The word knocked the air out of him. For a heartbeat Severus just stared, his carefully practiced smirk faltering. He hadn’t expected that. His chest gave a sharp, traitorous twist—and he loathed himself for it.

“Fine” he said, and started toward the Slytherin table with Black falling into step beside him.

A few heads turned at once. Not many people were around, which was a relief, but the ones who were stared openly. Whispers rose—Snape and Black, walking together? It had to look absurd.

Severus’s mouth thinned, though inside he was relieved. No one from his year was there to witness this nonsense. Only a handful of first- and second-years from other houses sat scattered along the benches, staring like they’d just spotted a hippogriff in a teacup.

Severus slid onto the bench, hoping Black would have the sense to sit across. Of course not—the mutt dropped right beside him, close enough that their sleeves brushed.

“Do you even grasp the concept of personal space?” Severus hissed, driving an elbow into his side to shove him over.

Sirius only grinned, shifting an inch but not nearly enough. “You wound me, Snape. I thought that’s exactly what you wanted, isn’t it? Me and you, side by side at the Slytherin table.”

“Don’t waste your breath on nonsense,” Severus muttered, reaching for a cup of tea. “Just say what you came to say.”

Sirius’s mind scrambled. He couldn’t bring it up here—not with whispers already crawling around the tables, not with that damned almost-kiss still buzzing in his skull. His throat felt tight, and what finally slipped out was clumsy, “…Did you like the book? You’ve read it, haven’t you?”

“The book?” Severus blinked, caught off guard. For a moment he just stared, uncertain if this was a diversion, a joke, or another setup. Black’s gift, his strange persistence, even the sudden edge of… affection didnt make any sense to Severus.

Sirius’s fixation was nothing new; Severus had endured it for years, needled and hounded in every cruel way imaginable. But this was… different.

But this felt… off. There was something under it, something he couldn’t quite pin down—or rather didn’t want to. Because if he gave it a name, it might stop being ridiculous. It might become real.

“Yes. I did. It was… fascinating. The chapter on aconite was unlike anything I’ve seen before—its notes on infusion times were exact in a way most texts only skim. And the section on stabilizing volatile brews…” He paused, lips twitching into something almost like a smirk. “Let’s just say it’s more advanced than anything Slughorn keeps on his shelves.”

His gaze flicked up to Sirius, dark and searching. “I hadn’t expected you to give me something of actual value. But the question is — is that really what you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes and no… I mean—” Sirius started, then faltered. Merlin, how the hell was he supposed to talk to Snape? Insults came easiest; they always had. The only half-decent conversation they’d ever managed had been with smoke curling between them, and even then it had felt like walking on glass.

Should he treat Severus like he treated everyone else? Like one of his countless flings—turn on the easy charm, flash the grin, see if he could coax what he wanted? The thought made him scowl inwardly. No. He already knew how that would end: with Snape hexing him into the infirmary before he got two words in.

Snape wasn’t just another fling.

His throat felt tight, so he said the first thing that came to him, rougher than he meant:

“I can’t talk about what I really want here, Snape. But… I was wondering—what did you do those three days? You were holed up in the dorms?”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “How do you even know where I was?”

“I… asked around,” Sirius lied quickly.

“Of course you did,” Severus muttered, suspicion thick in his tone.

“So, are you alright? Feeling better?” Sirius pressed, leaning in before he could stop himself. His hand came up to Severus’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. Bit warm, though.”

A flush spread across Severus’s cheeks, and he slapped the hand away. “Behave, mutt.”

Sirius only smirked, triumphant. “You’re blushing.”

“It’s not your concern.”

“Then make it mine,” Sirius said, leaning closer. “Why vanish for days? Just tell me, Snape.”

Severus’s lips curled, venom-sharp. “If that’s what it takes to shut you up… fine. I had a heat, Black. Satisfied?”

Sirius went scarlet, ears burning, the image of Severus tangled in sheets flashing unbidden in his mind. His mouth ran faster than sense could catch it. ““Heat, huh? Should’ve told me sooner. I could’ve kept you  company”

Severus stared, disgust etched clear on his face. For a moment Sirius braced for the slap—but instead, Severus rose smoothly to his feet

“I hope you choke,” he said coldly.

“I would. Happily. On you.”

Severus froze for the briefest moment, ears burning red, before he stormed off, robes snapping behind him. Sirius stayed slouched at the table, grinning like he’d just won a duel.

It was the first snow of the winter and last day of the holidays, drifting down in slow, deliberate flakes, soft enough to muffle the world. The courtyard looked almost unreal under the sudden white, the stone softened, the bare trees rimmed with frost. The air stung against Sirius’s cheeks and lungs, but it carried that quietness he had always loved—like the castle itself was holding its breath.

That was when he saw him.

Severus stood just beyond the courtyard, still as stone yet somehow at ease, his face tipped up toward the sky. Snow gathered in his black hair and dusted the shoulders of his robes, stark against his pale skin. His cheeks were flushed pink with cold, the tip of his nose red, lips parted faintly as if he were breathing the snow in. His dark eyes glistened in the chill, not with malice or sharpness but with something quieter. Peace, maybe.

Sirius stopped, caught off guard by the sight. He’d never seen Snape like this—unguarded, calm, beautiful in the contrast of black and white. Something inside him pulled taut, aching just to stand there and watch.

The crunch of his boots gave him away.  Severus blinked and turned, his expression hardening by habit, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh. Black.”

Sirius smirked back, though his voice came out rougher than he intended. “Hello to you too, Snape.”

He closed the space between them, his hand lifting before he thought better of it. A snowflake had caught in Severus’s hair, bright against the dark strands. Sirius brushed it away, fingertips lingering just a little too long. The flake melted instantly, but the warmth of the touch didn’t vanish as quickly.

Severus tipped his head, not moving away. “Careful, Black. Touch me like that again and people might start to think you’ve gone soft.”

“Let them.” Sirius’s mouth slanted into something that wasn’t quite a grin. “Besides, I caught you smiling. Don’t bother denying it. I saw.”

Severus made a quiet, dismissive sound, but the bite wasn’t there.  “Snow has its charm, I suppose. It makes this place… tolerable. Briefly.” His voice carried that dry humor, but not the usual bite.

Sirius stepped closer, close enough that their breath mingled in the cold air. “Tolerable? I’d call it beautiful.” His eyes lingered. On the snow - but also on the pink of Severus’s mouth; on the way a few damp strands clung to his temple; on the line of his throat where a flake had caught and refused to melt.

“Like you,” he added, before he could stop himself.

Severus froze, caught off guard. His lips parted, a flush deepening across his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold. “You’re insufferable,” he whispered, but the words lacked venom.

The air tightened between them, thick with unsaid things, with the press of their scents rising—Sirius’s storm-and-coffee bite clashing and twining with Severus’s woodsmoke, honey, and black tea. It hung molten in the air, sweet and sharp.

Sirius swallowed. “Do you—” He glanced at the sky. “When it snows, do you ever feel like… you could start over?”

Severus’s mouth twitched. “That’s rather poetic for a Gryffindor.”

“Don’t tell anyone.” Sirius shifted, boot scraping softly on the frost. “I used to feel it at the Potters’. First winter when I was there it snowed so hard the whole street vanished. James’s mum brought cocoa. I remember thinking—no one can find me if the world goes quiet.” He huffed a laugh at himself. “Stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid.” Severus’s voice came low. He watched the flakes gather on Sirius’s shoulders now, as if against his will. “When it snowed on Spinner’s End, the river went quiet too. The noise… stopped.” He lifted one hand and caught a flake on his bare hand and watched it die. “For a few minutes the house didn’t feel like a prison.”

Sirius reached before he thought, his hand brushing Severus’s cheek—cold skin under warm fingertips. Severus didn’t flinch, his eyes widened—but he didn’t pull away.

The snow was falling down and their scents tangling thick in the cold. Sirius leaned in, lips brushing Severus’s like the faintest question.

Severus’s hand twitched at his side, but he didn’t retreat. Instead, after a heartbeat, he leaned forward. Answer enough for Sirius,

The kiss began feather-light, almost worshipping. Sirius pressed gently, barely there, savoring the shock of warmth. Severus returned it—hesitant, careful, like they both feared the slightest wrong move would shatter it.

Then something broke.

Sirius pressed harder, hunger flashing through him. Severus answered withsharp teeth catching Sirius’s lower lip, tugging until Sirius groaned into it. Their mouths clashed, no longer careful but desperate, as though every sneer, every hex, every insult had been foreplay to this.

Sirius’s hands tangled in Severus’s hair, tugging, demanding. Severus clutched at his sleeve, then his chest, dragging him closer until there was no space left. Their lips bruised, teeth snapped, tongues fought.

Sirius bit, sharp and claiming. Severus bit back, harder, until the taste of copper burst between them. Sirius growled, low and primal, the sound vibrating into Severus’s mouth. Severus gasped, then matched it with his own growl, muffled into Sirius’s teeth.

They moved against each other, each fighting to win, neither willing to surrender. Sirius’s grip in Severus’s hair shifted, sometimes gentle, sometimes rough, pulling his head back just enough to bite along his jaw. Severus countered by seizing Sirius’s shoulder and holding so tightly his knuckles whitened, anchoring him in place.

Their scents flared hotter—rain-and-coffee storm meeting smoke-and-honey heat, clashing, curling, merging into something intoxicating. It wrapped around them, heady and overwhelming, until the cold ceased to matter.

They broke apart only to drag in air, ragged and uneven. Their foreheads pressed together, mouths swollen and red, breath ghosting each other’s lips.

Sirius laughed, breathless, feral. “Finally.”

Severus smirked faintly, though his voice trembled when he whispered, “I still hate you, Black.”

Sirius slid one hand from Severus’s jaw to the nape of his neck, thumb tracing warmth into skin chilled by snow. “And you’re still here.”

Severus’s palm pressed flat over Sirius’s chest, right above his pounding heart.Their bodies aligned—shoulder to shoulder, chest to chest—heat sparking everywhere they touched.

Sirius angled for another kiss, trying to claim the lead. Of course he did—it was in him, the way weather is in a sky. Severus let him, for three heartbeats. Then, clever and sly, he shifted, tilting his mouth to steal back control. Sirius laughed into it, delighted, and pulled harder at his hair in retaliation.

The kiss sharpened. Grew messier. Hotter. Snow feathered onto their coats and vanished before it could settle.

“Sev,” Sirius breathed against his mouth, the name slipping out like a prayer.

“Black,” Severus muttered, but it came like possession.

They slowed only by degrees, stumbling back toward gentleness.The last kisses were softer, brief, scattered—placed on corners of mouths, on the hinge of jaws, on skin still tingling with cold.

When at last they stopped, truly stopped, they didn’t step apart. The snow drifted around them, silent witness, falling over.

Sirius touched his forehead to Severus’s again, whispering against his lips, “Do you still hate me?”

“Always,”  he breathed, woodsmoke-honey curling warm in the cold.

The return to Hogwarts was loud and suffocating.  Sirius wished the holidays had lasted just a little longer—just long enough for more stolen hours in the snow, more sharp words softening into something else, more time with Severus that no one else could steal away.

Trunks scraped the stone, owls hooted overhead, laughter ricocheted off the walls.

James, Remus, and Peter swarmed Sirius the moment they saw him, hauling him into hugs, pelting him with questions about the holidays. Sirius grinned, barked out wild stories, played the part of the perfect reckless friend—the Sirius Black they expected.

Classes picked up as if nothing had changed, professors shouting reminders about exams and homework before anyone had even  time to unpacked properly.

And Sirius moved through it all with a grin fixed in place, while inside he felt hollow.

Because Severus wasn’t looking at him. Not once.

When Sirius tried to speak to him after class, Severus was already gone. If he lingered in the corridor, hoping to catch his eye, Snape vanished like smoke.  Whenever they had classes together Emma and Ravana were next to Snape. At the Great Hall, Andromeda sat with him more often than not, keeping him shielded with cool conversation.

During breaks, Regulus seemed to gravitate toward Severus as usual - but Sirius notice that it less than usual. His little brother now walked close with Lucius Malfoy and his polished set, and that sight twisted something sharp inside Sirius’s chest.

Rosier, meanwhile, had stopped orbiting Severus entirely; whenever  he looked like he want to take a little sniff od Severus, one flat look from Malfoy sent him off to the timeout.

Sirius should have been glad. But he couldn’t feel anything except the dread that what had happened in the snow—their kiss, the heat, the mad scramble of mouths and teeth—had been nothing but a dream. Severus behaved as if it had never happened, and Sirius was left stumbling between memories and silence.

Remus noticed. Of course he did. He’d catch Sirius staring too long at the Slytherin table, or biting the inside of his cheek in the middle of a lecture. Quietly, he asked what had happened over the holidays. Sirius only shrugged, words sticking like ice in his throat.

Spring came fast, snow melting from the courtyards and green creeping back across the grounds. Time moved forward, indifferent. But Sirius stayed restless, dragging behind it, still caught on a winter kiss Severus refused to acknowledge.

By April, the castle was drowning in books, quills, and  incantations.

Slughorn muttering about “precision, precision!” in every Potions lesson, McGonagall drilling Transfiguration theory, even Flitwick assigning essays long enough to fill entire rolls of parchment. The professors were relentless, all of them reminding the students that this is the foundation for your N.E.W.T.s next year .

Sirius pretended not to care. He cracked jokes, tossed balled-up scraps of parchment at James during late-night study sessions, and leaned back in his chair like exams were beneath him. But truthfully, he hated it—not the work itself, but the way stress seemed to thicken the distance between him and Severus.

By June, when exam week ended, Sirius was hollowed out by more than just sleepless nights. He’d thought… he’d thought what happened in the snow meant something. That kiss had seared itself into him so deep he could still taste it sometimes, still feel the pull of Severus’s hair between his fingers, the burn of his mouth. He thought they were tethered now.

But Severus hadn’t given him a single chance to prove it. Not one word. Not one look. Nothing.

So Sirius did the stupidest thing he could.

At the leaving feast, with the hall loud and bright around him, Sirius grabbed the arm of a Hufflepuff girl—blonde, laughing too easily—and dragged her into a shadowed corridor. He didn’t even bother with her name. He just pressed her back against the wall and kissed her hard.

It was awful. Her lips were soft but wrong, the angle too neat, her breath too sweet. Sirius closed his eyes and tried to pretend—pretend it was black hair brushing his cheek, bitter tea on his tongue, the taste of smoke. Pretend it was Severus.

And then he felt it. That burn on the back of his neck. That sense of being seen .

He broke the kiss and turned—

And there Severus was. Standing at the end of the corridor, book clutched in his hand, his face carved with fury and something sharper beneath it.

Their eyes met. Severus’s lip curled, disgust twisting across his features. He turned on his heel and his robes snapped like a door slamming.

“Fuck,” Sirius muttered, shoving the girl aside so fast she yelped. He didn’t even look back at her. He ran.

“Severus! Sev, wait—”

He caught him by the stairs, grabbing his arm. Severus yanked back, eyes burning.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed. The rage in his voice shook.

“It wasn’t—” Sirius’s mouth fumbled. “It’s not her I—”

“You think I care?” Severus snapped. His voice was sharp enough to cut, but his uneven breathing gave him away. “You think I’m jealous of some snog?”

Sirius didn’t let go. “You are,” he said, softer. “I saw your face.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed, black and burning. “What you saw was disgust, Black. That’s all.”

“Bullshit.” Sirius’s grip tightened. “You know it’s bullshit. That night in the snow—you felt it. Don’t stand here and tell me you didn’t.”

Severus wrenched his arm free, clutching the book to his chest. His voice dropped, venom low and trembling.

“You want me to say it? Fine. Yes, it happened. And it was a mistake.”

The words landed like a slap.

Severus turned, cold and deliberate. “Go back to your little birds, Black. They’ll be happy to waste their lips on you. I won’t.”

He walked away, robes cutting the air in usual manner, not looking back even once.

Sirius didn’t go after him. He couldn’t.  His boots might as well have been nailed to the stone.

He should felt anger —anger was always there for him, his oldest weapon—but it fizzled, leaving nothing but the dull, crushing weight in its place.

Black caught the stairs railing, gripping hard enough for the wood to bite into his palm, but it gave him no anchor. His knees wobbled, his throat worked uselessly around words that refused to form. The thought came, that maybe it had been only him, desperate and stupid, clinging to a dream Severus had already buried.

He stood alone for Merlin know how long, his heart a hollow bruise in his chest, wishing for a time-turner, so he could go back—not just to undo the mistake, but to stand again in the falling snow, where Severus had almost been his.

Chapter Text

The new school year began with the strange sense that everything had shifted, even if the castle’s walls looked unchanged.

Regulus had grown into his sharp features over the summer. No longer the lanky boy trailing in his older brother’s shadow, he carried himself with the confidence—and arrogance—of someone stepping into manhood and Black inheritance. Sirius noticed it at once, with a mix of unease and disdain.

He had hoped—foolishly—that Regulus might leave Severus alone this year. They’d seemed to drift apart at the close of last term.

But Andromeda was gone now: graduated, married to a Muggle, and disowned for it. And in the void she left, Regulus had slipped easily to Severus’s side.

And worse still—to Sirius’s growing irritation—he was courting him.

It wasn’t obvious to the untrained eye; a Muggle-born might not have recognized it. But Sirius had grown up in the Black household, taught to notice every subtle signal, every coded gesture. Regulus was following their mother’s lessons to the letter: the careful timing, the pointed attention, the small, calculated offerings of respect.

It made Sirius’s skin crawl—and, worse, it made him look.

He told himself it shouldnt matter to him. Snape hated him anyway. Really hated him. And Sirius, well—he didn’t want to care anymore. Not after everything.

He’d spent the summer at the Potters’, basking in sunlight, flying endless games of Quidditch, and slipping into bed with anyone willing. But no matter whose skin he touched, when the lights went out it was always Severus he saw.

Sometimes he wondered if this was Severus’s revenge. Seduce him, discard him, and then turn to his brother. Twisted, cruel, calculated—perfectly Snivellus.

——————

Sirius’s brooding hadn’t gone unnoticed. Lily, radiant and steady now at James’s side, asked after his health more than once.

Sirius  had deflected with a joke, sharp and glib as always, hiding his pain beneath bravado. But Lily’s eyes had lingered on him longer than James ever realized.

James, oblivious as ever, had even shown Sirius a ring over the summer—he meant to propose to Lily after Hogwarts, perhaps even sooner, depending on how quickly Voldemort’s ranks will rose.

Whenever Lily looked at Sirius, she unwillingly thought of Severus—because the two of them were alike in ways they’d never admit. The recklessness. The sharpness. The way they both built masks to hide their wounds. Seeing Sirius was like seeing Severus through a warped glass: different houses, different choices, but the same hunger gnawing them hollow inside.

And the resemblance stung. The jealousy stung. Almost as much as the worry.

Because Lily knew—though she tried not to—that James’s obsession had never belonged wholly to her. Three Marauders had always had eyes for Severus, circling him like moths to a flame they claimed to despise.

And if she was honest—brutally honest—she had envied Severus from the very beginning, from their very first meeting.  Because he carried a brightness she could never quite match: an instinctive grasp of magic, a brilliance in Potions, a knack for spinning new charms from nothing. Qualities she had once admired, but which, deep down, she resented.

She hated that about herself. Hated that she could resent the boy who had been her closest friend, hated that part of her wanted to dim his light just so hers would shine brighter. It was ugly, and she knew it. Yet the feeling lingered.

Sometimes, in the quiet moments, Lily wondered what might have happened if her friendship with Severus had endured. But perhaps it was better this way.

Separation had forced them both to grow, to harden, to become different people. Maybe stronger ones. She only hoped so.

______

By the time half the year had slipped by, the pressure in the air had thickened. The professors spoke of NEWTs with a kind of manic urgency—reminders that every mark mattered, that their futures balanced on parchment and ink. But the real weight wasn’t exams. It was the war.

Whispers followed them in the halls, thick with fear. Disappearances in the Prophet. Names of families they knew. Dark Marks blooming above far-off towns.

And Severus—Severus had grown quieter, even sulkier than usual. His shoulders hunched lower, his voice was sharper, his eyes more shadowed. His hair greasy again. He carried the tension of someone balanced on an edge.

And Sirius noticed.

He also noticed how Regulus was even more confident now—striding through the castle like he owned it. He hovered at Severus’s side constantly. Worse, he touched him often, too easily: a hand brushing his arm as they spoke, a pat to his shoulder, even ruffling his hair once in the common room like it was the most natural thing in the world..

He caught them in the library corners, whispering low, heads bent close together. Sometimes Severus’s face twisted sharp with irritation, his mouth thin as though they were locked in a quarrel. Other times his voice rose, heated, only for Regulus to answer back in a tone far too smug.

It looked like a lovers’ spat. And every time Sirius saw it—saw Regulus’s hand lingering too long, saw Severus lean in instead of away—his stomach knotted hard

____

“It doesn’t bother you, Moony?” Sirius asked one evening when it was only both of them in the common room, his voice low, restless.

Remus didn’t look up from his parchment. “What would bother me now, Pads?” His quill scratched steadily, black ink smudged across his fingers.

“My little brother,” Sirius whispered, like even shadows might eavesdrop. “You must’ve noticed how he’s always next to Severus. More than before. And smug. And—ugh.”

“And once again,” Remus said, calm and faintly amused, “why would that bother me?”

Sirius scowled, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh—I thought you… I don’t know.”

Remus finally glanced up, eyebrow arched. “Because I fancy Snape?”

“Yeah.”

“I do,” Remus admitted simply, without a hint of shame. “But it’s Severus’s choice. Not mine. If he’s happy, then I’m happy.”

Sirius groaned and dropped back against the sofa cushions. His storm-and-coffee scent spiked bitter and restless, curling sharp into the air.

Remus’s nose twitched, and his mouth curved in a knowing smirk. “You really ought to learn to control that, Pads. Your scent gives you away every time.”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed. “Gives what away?”

“Jealousy,” Remus said lightly, dipping his quill again. “It’s practically rolling off you. Doesn’t matter if it’s Regulus, me, or some nameless boy in the library—you always think someone’s trying to take what you want.”

“I’m not jealous,” Sirius snapped too quickly, heat rushing up his throat.

“Mm,” Remus hummed, clearly unconvinced. “If you say so.”

Sirius growled and shoved a cushion over his face, muffling something that sounded suspiciously like a curse.

Remus only smirked and bent back over his essay, voice dry as parchment. “You are so bloody weird.”

Sirius peeked out from under the cushion, glaring. “Takes one to know one.”

________

“Black, I need to talk to you.”

The words cut through the corridor, sharp as ever—the very voice Sirius had been starving to hear. His pulse jumped. For a moment, a reckless vision flashed before his eyes: Severus pinned to the wall, Sirius’s hands locking him in place, his mouth bruising, his voice low with a promise—never leave me again. don’t you dare. II’ll ruin anyone who thinks they can touch you.

But the fantasy burned itself out as quick as it came. Instinct dragged him back and his old mask slid on smoothly.

“Snivelly wants a word?” Sirius barked out a laugh, glancing around for an audience, craving the snickers that never came. “And where, pray tell, do I get this honor from?”

Severus didn’t so much as twitch. His eyes stayed unamused and dark, his voice calm. “Come with me, Black.” He turned without waiting, robes sweeping behind him.

Sirius’s jaw clenched, heat rushing up his throat. “And why in Merlin’s name would I follow you, Snivellus? What’s wrong with you?”

His voice was a snarl, but his boots were already moving, carrying him in Severus’s way. He followed Him like a dog on a leash.

“Here,” Severus said at last, stopping in a shadowed corner. He flicked his wand and cast a charm so no one else could hear them.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall with a crooked grin. “What’s with all the secrecy? If you want to blow me, we can skip the theatrics.”

Severus’s eyes flashed, dark and sharp. “Shut up, Black. And for once in your useless life, listen carefully as we all know your attention span’s no better than a goldfish”

His voice dropped. “Regulus wants to take a Mark.”

Sirius blinked. “A mark?”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Severus’s tone was sharp, but  Sirius could smell the tremor in his scent . “He wants to take the Dark Mark. And I want you to stop him.”

For a moment Sirius just stood there, caught between a dozen impulses—tell Severus not to be afraid, laugh it off, or run straight to his brother and knock sense into him with his fists.

How could Regulus—stupid, spoiled Regulus—be ready to brand himself like that? Even their parents hadn’t gone that far.

“Can’t you stop him?” Sirius snapped, anger cutting through his confusion. “You’re his boyfriend, aren’t you, Snivelly? Surely he’ll listen to you before anyone else.”

“You’re his older brother.” Severus’s voice was flat, tired. “And I’ve tried. Over and over. He doesn’t care what I say.”

Sirius’s jaw locked. Severus hadn’t denied it. Regulus was his.

His voice came out rough. “What do you want me to do, then?”

“Talk sense into him, Black,” Severus bit out. “You’re the only family he has who should matter. We both know what your parents are. And Regulus…” His mouth twisted bitterly. “He’s desperate to prove himself. He thinks the Mark is a badge of honor. As if carving it into his skin will turn him into a man.”

“How do you even know all that, Snivelly? You’ve got a Mark too, don’t you?” Sirius sneered, his hand darting for Severus’s sleeve.

Severus yanked his arm back as if burned “Are you truly that dense? Of course I don’t. I’m an omega, Black.” The word cracked in his throat, bitter and raw. “Lucius tried to pull me in once—before I presented. Afterwards, he stopped. Said there could never be an omega in the Dark Lord’s ranks. That even if I’m a brilliant potioneer, omegas are too weak. Too vulnerable. Good for only one thing.”

His mouth twisted into a cruel smile that never touched his eyes, venom stretched thin over an old wound.

“And Regulus—he tells me everything. He’s about as subtle as you are. Takes after his older brother.” His voice cut sharp, then softened into something nearer to plea. “He needs you, Black. Think about it. Andromeda’s gone—she can’t talk sense into him anymore.”

Sirius wasn’t sure how to react. His chest burned first with fury at Lucius—smug bastard, deciding what Severus was good for—but at the same time, he was relieved. At least Severus hadn’t been pulled into the Dark Lord’s ranks.

But the question was why Snape cared so much about Regulus? Why was his brother suddenly the one Severus was desperate to protect? The thought twisted, sour and sharp in Sirius’s gut.

“Beg me,” he said, voice low, a dangerous smirk tugging at his mouth.

Severus’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I want you to beg me,” Sirius pressed, stepping closer, grey eyes dark with something manic. “Say ‘please.’ You want me to save him? Fine. I’ll do it. But I want to hear it from you. I want to hear you say it.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed into blades. “Beg? You arrogant bastard. I’d sooner hex you where you stand.”

“Then don’t,” Sirius drawled, leaning in until their noses nearly brushed. “But you want me to stop him, don’t you? If so show it - do it.”

“You are his brother.”

“Congratulations, Snivellus, you can read a family tree. Now say please.”

Severus’s jaw clenched. Silence stretched, biting and brutal. Sirius’s smirk held, but underneath, his chest thudded wild. He hadn’t thought Severus would actually—

“Please,” Severus bit out at last, low, venomous, like the word had been carved from his throat.

Sirius’s breath hitched. Victory, sharp and intoxicating went through him. “There,” he murmured, his grin wolfish. “Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Severus’s hands slammed into his chest, shoving him back with a force to make sure it would hurt. “Enjoy it, Black. That’s the last and only time you’ll ever have it from me.” His voice shook with fury, but his chin stayed high. “And if you dare throw this in my face in the future , I will hex you so thoroughly you’ll beg me for mercy.”

And before Severus could run away, Sirius dragged him in, mouth crashing against his with a hunger that tasted of fury, of want, of triumph. Teeth scraped, lips bruised—Sirius kissed him like claiming territory, like punishing Severus for making him feel so desperate.

Severus staggered back, shoving Sirius off. His chest heaved, eyes blazing with fury and his lips were swollen from the kiss.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice was shaking with rage and  grief. “Why do you keep doing this? Breaking me, then pretending to fix it, only to break me all over again? Do you get off on it? Do you like treating me like some toy you can throw away whenever you’re done?”

The words struck harder than any curse. Sirius froze, his bravado was crumbling into ash. His chest clenched, panic crashing through him at the sight—Severus’s face flushed with rage but his eyes hollow, like he was already broken beyond repair.

“No,” Sirius rasped, seizing him, dragging Severus close. His arms locked tight around Severus’s frame, desperate, unyielding. “No, Sev—fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The words poured out like blood from a wound.

Severus’s fists stayed between them, pressed hard against Sirius’s chest, but he didn’t shove him off.“That’s all you ever do. Say sorry. You’re not sorry, Black. You’re a bastard.”

“Because I don’t know what I am doing… I fucking want you—fucking need you,” Sirius choked, his storm-and-coffee scent spiking sharp, frantic, restless thunder filling the narrow space. “For fuck’s sake, Sev—I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first train ride.” His voice broke, small and furious all at once, and he dropped his face into Severus’s hair like he could bury himself there.

Severus stay quiet, his woodsmoke-and-honey scent flickered unsteadily, dark and raw beneath the bitterness.

“You make it so hard, so impossible, and I don’t know what else to do.” Sirius kissed the top of his head, desperately, the rain-bite of his scent wrapping tight around them. “Why can’t you just… why can’t you just be mine?”

“I’m not anyone to have.”Severus’s fists trembled against his chest, his voice breaking on the words.

Sirius’s breath caught, he dipped his head until his lips brushed Severus’s temple, soft as a vow. “Not anyone,” he murmured. “Just mine.”

His storm-and-coffee scent wrapped tighter, warmer, tangling with the bitter smoke of Severus’s.

“ I don’t want a fling or some passing thrill, Sev.I want you. All of you. The bite, the brilliance, the parts you keep hidden. The way you make me mad and still-Still I can’t stop choosing you. Every time, it’s you.”

Sirius hand cupped the back of Severus’s head, thumb stroking through his hair. He whispered  quiet, almost breaking, “I can’t breathe without you.”

“I’m hate you and I’m scared…,” Severus finally whispered. “Even after… after that kiss in the snow—I was terrified. Because I felt something, and I hated it. I don’t like these feelings, Black. Not in me. Because I know you. I know you’ll use them. You’ll twist them into weapon and—” His throat closed, and he shook his head like the words burned too much.

His scent betrayed him, though—sharp smoke coiling tighter, honey trembling underneath like something frightened but alive.

“I’m scared of more than you,” he pushed out, bitter and desperate. “I’m scared of this bloody war. Of what’s coming. I’m scared of Regulus—your brother—because he’s a boy playing at being a man and he’ll get himself killed. And I’m scared because…” His voice cracked again, breaking soft and awful. “Because even knowing all of that, I still want you. And I hate myself for it. Even now when you are being your usual bastard”

Sirius cupped Severus’s face, thumbs brushing the cold from his cheeks. His voice dropped low, warm, unguarded in a way he almost never allowed.

“You’re wrong, Sev. You do have a future. You have my future. Don’t you see? I don’t care about blood status,none of that shite matters to me. You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that feels real.. I thought you were the one playing with me, twisting me up, because how else could anyone make me feel like this?”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Severus’s temple, then his jaw, soft and desperate. “I won’t use you, I won’t hurt you. Not ever. You’re not a toy, you’re not a mistake—you’re. You’re everything I ever wanted.”

“But I tried to use you, and hurt you” Severus whispered, hair curtaining his face. His scent was sharp, acrid, honey soured by shame. “I wanted you to feel what I felt. All those years. Every hex, every name, every time you laughed while I—” He broke off, trembling. “If I made you jealous, if I denied you—maybe then you’d finally know. Maybe then you’d bleed the way I’ve bled.”

His eyes burned hollow when he finally looked up. “So don’t stand there and say I’m everything you want. Because I’m not.”

“But you are,” Sirius choked, raw and trembling. His storm-scent lashed, frantic and restless.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t care, Severus. I don’t fucking care. Because I’m  mad and fucked-up too—and you know that.” His forehead pressed hard to Severus’s, almost desperate enough to bruise. “So let me be ruined. Let it be you. I’ll take it, every bit of it, as long as it’s you.”

His hand slid to the back of Severus’s neck, anchoring him close. “I’ll walk through everything, through this bloody war—whatever it takes. As long as you’re there at the end of it. With me.”

For a moment, neither of them moved—only the clash of their scents, storm and smoke and honey, twisting together in the narrow space.

Severus’s breath stuttered, uneven, like it hurt to draw air. His gaze flicked over Sirius’s face, as if he couldn’t decide whether to loathe him or lean into him.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, hoarse, barely there.

“I can’t promise you anything.”

But he didn’t move away. And for Sirius—for now—that was enough.

——

Sirius wasn’t sure how to reach Regulus. Merlin knew he tried—again and again—to drag him off the path that led straight into Voldemort’s arms.

The first attempt was a disaster. He’d stormed in, roaring, the way he always did. And Regulus, polished and poisonous, only lifted his chin and sneered at him like he was a stranger.

The second attempt went better. Sirius forced himself to keep calm, remembering Severus’s warning that shouting only made Regulus dig his heels in deeper. For a heartbeat he thought he saw it—hesitation, the faintest crack in that aristocratic mask.

But the third try collapsed into shouting again, their voices ringing off the walls until they were throwing Severus’s name like a curse. They weren’t talking or even glancing at each other for a week.

Until one night Sirius corner Regulus in the empty classroom. He couldn’t keep watching his brother strut around the dungeons like a Death Eater.

“Regulus,” he said, shutting the door with a thud. “We need to talk.”

The younger Black raised an eyebrow, arms folding neatly across his chest. His scent — sharp, cold,  — flared in the room. “You’ve already made your feelings perfectly clear. Traitor to your own blood, lapdog to Mudbloods and blood traitors. Spare me the speech.”

Sirius bristled, his own scent spiking hot and wild. “Merlin, do you hear yourself? You’re sixteen, not a Death Eater. You don’t have to—”

“You think I’ll never be marked?” Regulus’s laugh was brittle. “They’re already watching me. Rosier. Dolohov. Even the Dark Lord himself.” His eyes glinted, but there was a tremor there/

“Then don’t give them what they want. You’re not cut out for this madness, Reg. You—”

“They say I’m too soft.That I’m distracted by Severus—half-blood filth, they call him. That I still cling to him like some pathetic child. And now Andromeda—” His breath hitched. “She married a Muggle, Sirius. Do you know what that did to our name? Rosier spat it at me in the corridor yesterday, said Black blood was rotting from the inside out.”

Sirius felt his throat tighten. He wanted to rage, to snap that Andromeda had more courage in her little finger than the entire Slytherin put together. But he bit it back.

Then Regulus’s voice dropped, barely audible. “So the Dark Lord tested me. He told me he wont give me me the Mark. Not yet. Not until I have proved myself… So he took Kreacher instead.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

“The Dark Lord… he sent Kreacher to the cave. Made him drink until he collapsed. Left him there.” His mouth twisted; it wasn’t fear Sirius saw but rage “He laughed at him, Sirius. Laughed. Laughed when he was in agony, pain…”

Sirius’s chest split wide open. He’d braced for arrogance, for some big speech about purity and bloodlines. Not this. Not his little brother, shaking with rage for the house-elf who had raised them both and were more of a parent than Walburga and Orion had ever managed to be. (Even if Sirius himself had always despised the creature.)

. “ I can’t stomach it. Not when he treats Kreacher like dirt beneath his boots.”Regulus spited and his fists curled until the knuckles whitened

“Reggie,” Sirius said hoarsely. He stepped forward, gripping his brother’s shoulders. “Listen to me. You don’t have to prove yourself to them. Not this way. Not with a Mark. You don’t have to do it.”

For a heartbeat, Regulus looked five again — the snotty boy who had trailed after Sirius in the Black gardens, tugging his sleeve, begging to be included even for a minute.

“They’ll come for me,” Regulus whispered. His scent shivered with fear. “If I show weakness again, they’ll know. And then…”

“Nothing will happen, Reggie” Sirius pulled him into a rough embrace, his voice thick with something between fury and desperation. “Those bastards won’t lay a hand on you. Not while I’m here. I’ll bloody well make sure of it.”

⸻

Sirius caught Severus in the corridor outside the library, his scent was curled with fury and worry.

“Tomorrow,” he blurted, grabbing Severus’s sleeve. “Regulus said tomorrow. They’re going to Mark him.”

Severus stiffened, scent spiking sharp—smoke acrid, honey buried beneath it. “We need a plan.”

“We need to tell Dumbledore,” Sirius shot back, eyes blazing.

The words hit like a slap. Severus jerked free “Are you mad? You’ll hand your brother’s head to him on a silver platter. You’ve no proof, nothing but his word. He’ll nod, smile, pop a lemon drop, and do nothing. Just as he did while you hexed me in the corridors.” His voice dropped, bitter as poison. “Boyish mischief, wasn’t that the phrase?”

Sirius’s storm-and-coffee scent flared sharp, electric. “This is different. It’s Regulus. If I wait, they’ll mark him up tomorrow.”

“And what, Black? You think Dumbledore will gamble for  a  Slytherin boy he doesn’t even trust?” Severus’s mouth curled, but his eyes were shadowed. “You want me to trust the man who never made you stop?”

“No.” Sirius stepped closer, jaw tight, eyes fever-bright. “I want you to trust me.”

“You ask for that far too easily.”

“Then come with me,” Sirius pressed, thunder in his voice, desperate. “If he patronizes you, we walk. If he smirks, if he delays, we walk. But we have to try. I understand that you think he’s a fool—but the most powerful fool we’ve got.”

Severus scent coiled harsh, then thinned; honey trembled faint beneath it.

“One word of condescension, and I’m gone.” He said finally, through gritted teeth:

“Then we go together.”

——

The office smelled of lemon drops and parchment. Fawkes watched from his perch, head tilted, while Sirius paced in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Severus lingered by the wall, arms crossed, his smoke-scent sharp and defensive.

“You have to stop it,Professor” Sirius burst out. “Tomorrow they’ll Mark him. I don’t care what it takes—just stop it.”

Dumbledore steepled his fingers, blue eyes unreadable behind half-moon spectacles. “And what proof do we have of this, besides your word?”

“My word should be enough!” Sirius snapped, storm-scent sparking.

Severus cut in, voice low and venomous. “You’d sit back and let the Dark Lord take him because a Gryffindor’s word isn’t proof enough? How very consistent of you, Headmaster.”

The air tightened. Sirius half expected Dumbledore to rebuke them, but instead the old man sighed, slow and weary. “I believe you.”

Sirius froze. “You—what?”

“I believe you,” Dumbledore repeated gently. “But I cannot storm in there and snatch him away. If I act overtly, I risk more than your brother’s life. What I can do is delay. Distract. Give him room to breathe.”

Severus sneered. “And how do you propose to do that? Tea with the Dark Lord?”

“No,” Dumbledore said softly. “Tea with Walburga and Orion Black.”

Sirius barked a humorless laugh. “Good luck with that. My mother would sooner hand Regulus over herself, gift-wrapped with a bow.”

“Walburga Black,” Dumbledore went on, calm as though he were suggesting a chess move. “And Orion. They remain aligned with the old ways, yes—but their family is their pride. The boy is their heir, their shining son. If I can persuade them that Voldemort risks wasting their legacy—”

“They won’t listen to you,” Sirius spat.

“Perhaps not. But they may listen to the echo of their own ambition. Fear for their name, their bloodline. Your brother’s life is a currency even they cannot afford to squander.”

Severus’s eyes narrowed. “So your plan is to appeal to their vanity.”

“My plan,” Dumbledore corrected, “is to buy us time. If Regulus Black is not marked tomorrow, there will be another chance—another opening to reach him. Without time, we have nothing.”

Silence stretched. Fawkes gave a low trill, mournful and steady.

Sirius wanted shout, to curse, to demand something more. But part of him—deep down—knew Dumbledore was right. Charging in when they are marking him would kill Regulus.

“Fine,” Sirius bit out, voice rough. “But if you fail—if he gets branded—I’ll never forgive you.”

Dumbledore’s eyes lingered on him, kind and unbearably sad. “I pray you never have to.”

______

“You were right about Dumbledore,” Sirius whispered, his voice raw with urgency. “I can’t wait. I’m not going to sit on my arse while he finishes sipping tea with my dear mother. I’m getting Regulus out. Tonight.”

Severus’s mouth twitched—Merlin, he wanted to gloat that he’d always been right about the old man, but even his pride knew this wasn’t the moment.

“What are you going to do, you mutt?” he snapped instead. “Where’s this miracle of safety you’ve suddenly conjured?”

“Potters,” Sirius shot back without hesitation. His hands closed around Severus’s, rough and hot. “I’ve got a flying bike hidden in the Forbidden Forest. I’ll take him there. James family will protect him. Just—” His voice cracked, desperation leaking through. “Just help me get him out of Hogwarts. Talk to him. He’ll follow you before he ever follows me.”

“Potters, really?” Severus drawled. The name alone felt like a snap. But even as he sneered, the thought struck him that perhaps it wasn’t the worst idea. The Potters already treated Sirius like a second son—everyone knew that. And they prided themselves on their  tolerance and anti-prejudice..Too bad their actual son had never quite managed to inherit that virtue. “ Fine. I will get Regulus”

“Thank you, Severus” Sirius beamed and his scent flared wild and bright.

“Don’t thank me yet. And when this is over—I will have questions about that ridiculous bike of yours.”

__

Regulus followed Severus with his heart thudding in his throat. He had always admired him—too much, maybe—but lately he couldn’t look him straight in the eye. If the pure-bloods could be so cruel to Kreacher, did they treat Severus the same way when he wasn’t looking?

He remembered when his interest had first sparked. It had been the same time Lucius Malfoy began circling Severus too, sly smiles and silken promises. At first, Regulus had only been curious—what was so remarkable about a half-blood? But then he saw it: the sharp brilliance in Severus’s mind, the way potions bent to his will, the raw power that even Lucius seemed to want to control. Lucius had been right—there was something there.

And Regulus wanted it too. Not just the knowledge or the strength, but the attention, the closeness. The hope that maybe, if he stayed near enough, Severus might see him as more than just Sirius’s brother. All year, he’d tried to impress him—boasting about Death Eaters, about power, about how unshakable he could be.

But somehow, everything had gone sour. Instead of admiration, Severus’s eyes only sharpened with disappointment. Instead of drawing him closer, Regulus felt himself pushed further away. And that hurt more than he could ever admit.

Maybe he was mad to trust Sirius now. Trusting his brother had never come easy. Sirius had already left him once, traded him for Gryffindors and blood traitors who mocked their name. And then Andromeda had gone too—disowned, cast aside. He had been fond of her, and losing her stung more than he wanted to confess. And then Kreacher…

“Here we are,” Severus said at last, stopping beneath a crooked oak where the moonlight barely touched the ground.

Regulus turned, breath catching—only to freeze when a familiar figure stepped from the dark.

“Siri?!” His voice cracked between shock and fury.

“Shh, Reg,” Sirius said quickly, stepping forward, storm-bright eyes wild. “Come on. I’m getting you out of here.”

Regulus jerked back as though struck. “What the hell is this?” His finger shot toward the gleaming motorbike. “What’s wrong with both of you?”

Severus’s jaw tightened, but his voice stayed steady. “We need to get you out, Regulus. Away from this madness, away from the Mark. Somewhere safe before they force it on you.”

“Force me?” Regulus spat, looking at Severus to see his reaction.Regulus kept his chin tilting high, pride flashing. “You think I’m weak?”

“No,” Sirius shot back, his voice rough. “I think you’re my bloody brother. . And I won’t let them mark you. Not while I’m breathing.  I promised I’d protect you, didn’t I? So quit being a stubborn little git and get on”

___________

The curtains were drawn; only the firelight painted the carved snakes on the mantle in molten gold. Shadows pressed heavy against the paneled walls, portraits watching in silence. Walburga Black sat tall in her chair, silks sweeping like a coronation gown, chin lifted with imperious disdain. Orion lingered by the hearth, glass of firewhisky in hand, his stillness more dangerous than words.

“You come uninvited,” Walburga said, voice sharp as glass. “Do not pretend we welcome the sort like you, Albus Dumbledore.”

“I do not expect welcome,” Dumbledore replied evenly, stepping into the glow. “I come with warning.”

Orion’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Warnings from you are never without insult.”

Dumbledore inclined his head, courteous as though at tea. “Your son Regulus is about to be branded.”

For the first time, Walburga flinched—her fingers tightening on the carved armrest—but the crack in her mask sealed quickly. “An honor,” she snapped. “A duty. You, of all men, should know the burden of destiny.”

Behind half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore’s eyes glimmered. “I know the burden. I also know what becomes of boys pressed into service too soon. Voldemort does not value heirs, Lady Black. He values pawns. Regulus is young, eager to please—he will throw him into the fire before the skin cools on his Mark.”

Orion swirled his whisky, gaze unblinking. “And why would this trouble you? You oppose the Dark Lord. Shouldn’t you welcome his recklessness?”

“I do not welcome the waste of children,” Dumbledore said softly.

The fire cracked. Walburga’s face twitched, betraying something quick and fragile before it hardened again. “Regulus is strong. He will serve with honor. He is not weak, like Sirius.” The name left her mouth like venom.

“Strength,” Dumbledore murmured, “is not measured by how quickly a child can kill. It is measured by what survives afterward. Do you wish your only heir to be a name on a headstone before he reaches twenty?”

Orion’s jaw flexed as he studied the flames. His silence was a blade.

Walburga’s knuckles whitened against silk.

“That you delay,” Dumbledore continued, voice calm, precise, “is all I suggest. Let him finish his schooling. Let him grow into the man you wish him to be before you hand him over to a master who sees no value in the Black legacy.” His gaze flicked between them, sharp as steel. “You pride yourselves on bloodlines, on inheritance. Do not squander your heir for Voldemort’s appetite. Even he knows how easily boys like Regulus break.”

Orion tapped his glass once, then stilled. “We will consider it.”

“That,” Dumbledore said with a slight bow of his head, “is all I ask.”

Dumbledore inclined his head once more, courteous as a man taking his leave from tea. Then he stepped to the hearth, reached for the small silver pot on the mantle, and let a pinch of glittering Floo powder fall between his fingers.

“Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts,” he said clearly.

The flames leapt green, swallowing him in a single sweep of light.

When the fire dimmed, Walburga’s voice cracked the silence, brittle with fury. “He dares—”

But Orion only stared into the fire, the whisky untouched in his hand, jaw tight as stone.

____

The night sky stretched wide above them, stars scattered like sparks from a wand. On any other night, tearing through the dark on Sirius’s enchanted bike might’ve felt bloody brilliant—wind in his hair, magic thrumming under his hands, the whole world wide open. But not with his kid brother wedged stiffly between him and Severus, and not while they were running for Regulus not being marked like a cattle.

Severus kept one arm locked tight around Regulus and the other flicking his wand every so often, refreshing the invisibility charms. Sirius would’ve preferred Severus pressed against his side instead of his sulky brother, but he told himself there’d be time for that later—after he dumped Regulus safely with the Potters.

Landing was less elegant. The motorbike skidded in the damp grass, wheels lurching hard before Sirius yanked it steady at the last second. He hopped off with a cocky grin. “Supposed to do that. Bit of style, you know?”

Severus snorted, too tired for a proper insult. Regulus said nothing at all. His mind circled Kreacher like a noose—if the Death Eaters realized he wasn’t there to take the Mark, would they kill the elf instead? The thought gnawed at him, sharp and bitter.

The Potters’ house rose before them, a wide and stately thing glowing warm against the night. It looked disgustingly perfect, like something out of a wizarding fairy tale. Severus loathed it on sight.

Sirius knocked  on the door. Severus lingered a step behind, shadow-silent with Regulus at his side.

The door opened, and there stood Fleamont Potter: tall, distinguished, blue eyes bright with sharp intelligence. His hair, though streaked with grey, was just as untamable as James’s.

“Sirius?” Fleamont rasped in shock, pulling the boy into a fierce hug. “What happened? Are you hurt?” His voice was low, full of worry.

Sirius clung to him harder than he meant to, voice cracking. “My brother—he needs help. They want to Mark him and I—” The words stuck in his throat. Standing here, in the doorway of the Potter home, Sirius felt like a child again, desperate and lost.

Fleamont’s gaze slipped past Sirius’s shoulder. Two boys lingered on the step. One he recognized instantly as Sirius’s brother—same sharp Black features, only younger, wary, and pale.

“Inside, all of you,” Fleamont urged, ushering them in. The moment the door closed, he swept his wand in tight, layering the wards heavier. If Death Eaters were circling, one could never be too careful.

Only when the house was sealed did he take a proper look at the other boy. Thin, dark-haired, his Slytherin robes hanging a little too loose on his frame. Something about him made Fleamont pause. An omega, if he wasn’t mistaken—small, watchful in a way that spoke of survival rather than arrogance.

Recognition flickered. James had spoken of him often enough—the “scrawny, black-haired Slytherin who’s always bothering Lily.” Fleamont’s mouth tightened. From what he saw now, the boy looked less like a bully and more like someone who was bullied.

Before he could say anything more, the sound of hurried footsteps broke in.

Euphemia came sweeping down the stairs, her night robe trailing behind her. “Fleamont, what on earth is all this noise?” Her voice carried sharp with worry—until her eyes landed on Sirius.

“Oh, Sirius,” she gasped, rushing the last few steps to fold him into her arms. “What are you doing here at this hour? What’s happened?” Her embrace tightened, warm and fierce. “We missed you so at Christmas.”

“My love,” Fleamont said gently, “Sirius’s brother needs a safe roof. They’re trying to Mark him—from what I’ve gathered so far.”

“Yes,” Sirius managed, throat tight. “Regulus can’t stay at Hogwarts. Please.”

Euphemia drew back, cupping Sirius’s face for a heartbeat before turning to the others. Her voice softened, brisk and kind. “Then that’s settled. You’re safe here. Regulus, darling, come in out of the cold. And you too ”

She smiled at Severus which made him flinch. The words were too gentle, too generous, and they landed oddly in his chest. Kindness wasn’t what he expected from anyone named Potter. And her eyes—Merlin, they were James’s eyes, only without the arrogance. The resemblance made it worse.

“Coats on the peg, boots by the mat,” she added, glancing back at Fleamont. “Darling, put the kettle on and strengthen the wards again. I’ll make up the guest room for Regulus.”

Fleamont’s wand flicked; the house thrummed as layers of protection settled thicker around it. He gave Sirius a steady look. “You did the right thing bringing him.”

Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Euphemia squeezed his hand before guiding Regulus inside. “Family looks after family. Now—kitchen, both of you. Tea, blankets, and then we talk.”

____

Severus had thought life couldn’t get any stranger after presenting. Then he’d somehow acquired two Blacks, two Gryffindors, and—Merlin help him—he snogged Sirius not once but twice. And now? Now he was in the Potters’ cottage, drinking tea like a civilized guest, wedged on a too-soft sofa between Regulus and Sirius. The only thing keeping him sane was the delicious thought that if James Potter walked in and saw it, he’d drop dead on the spot.

“So,” Fleamont began, raking a hand through his hair, “I spoke with Dumbledore. He’s already had words with your parents—and then I spoke with them as well.” His mouth twitched, half a chuckle. “Your father agreed it’s fine if you stay here a night or two. After all, we’re practically family, aren’t we? But then, Regulus, you’ll need to return home.”

Regulus stiffened, arms tightening across his chest. “What about Kreacher?”

“Ah—the elf.” Fleamont’s brows rose. “Yes, your parents are sending him here. They said they want him to… keep an eye on you.”

Regulus brightened instantly, relief washing over his face.

Severus glanced at him sideways, baffled. So it was true then—Andromeda hadn’t exaggerated about his peculiar attachment to the elf. Both Black brothers were utterly bizarre, each in their own way.

“Oh, and you, boy—” Fleamont’s gaze landed on him suddenly, as though remembering he existed. “I never did catch your name. There wasn’t exactly time for pleasantries earlier.”

“Severus Snape,” he said evenly.

“Ah.” Fleamont’s mouth quirked into a polite, faintly amused smile. “Well then, Severus Snape—welcome to our home.”

“You’re welcome to stay here as well, of course,” Fleamont said, settling back into his chair with the calm assurance of a man used to smoothing crises. “Dumbledore already knows the three of you are here. He agreed you and Sirius can return to Hogwarts tomorrow. I’ll be the one driving you back, so you can leave your motorbike here for now, Sirius.”

Sirius brightened, relief breaking through his restless energy “ It’s a nice bike isn’t it?”

Fleamont’s lips twitched. “Sure. But we can admire it later.”

“Boys—” Euphemia swept back into the sitting room, her smile lighting the space more than the fire. “I’ve got your rooms ready. You all look half-dead on your feet, and nothing mends weariness like a proper night’s sleep.” She reached to straighten the blanket on the sofa as if it mattered, then beamed at them all. “Upstairs, Regulus—you’ll have the blue room. Sirius, yours is as you left it. And you…” her eyes softened on Severus, lingering just long enough to make him shift uncomfortably. “We’ve set the study for you. Fresh linens, extra quilts. I won’t have anyone catching cold under my roof.”

“Thank you, madam,” Severus murmured, his voice low.

“His name is Severus Snape,” Fleamont added with a polite nod.

“Oh, Severus,” Euphemia said warmly, as if tasting the name on her tongue. “What a beautiful name.”

___

Severus lay on his back, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, thoughts spinning in every direction. The motorbike came first—Merlin help him, it had been exhilarating, the kind of reckless, roaring freedom he’d never admit to Sirius was actually cool. Then Kreacher—grumpy, sharp-eyed Kreacher—glowering at him as he was the dirtiest dirt he ever seen, even while fussing over Regulus with slavish devotion.

And then, inevitably, his mind turned to Hogwarts. Tomorrow, he’d have to walk back into the dungeons. Would Rosier and the others corner him? Demand answers for Regulus’s sudden disappearance? He could already picture their sneers, their suspicion, their rage if they guessed he’d had a hand in it.

Severus heard footsteps pause outside the study door, soft against the polished wood floors. His body went rigid. When the latch clicked and the door edged inward with a slow, betraying creak, his hand was already on his wand.

“Lumos,” he hissed under his breath, tip flaring pale blue.

The light caught on a familiar silhouette in the doorway. Sirius, hair a tangled mess, one hand raised in a sheepish half-wave.

“For Merlin’s sake, Black, what’s wrong with you” Severus snapped, heart still pounding. “You nearly got hexed.”

Sirius smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Move over.”

Severus blinked. “What?”

“You heard me,” Sirius said, slipping inside and shutting the door with a soft snick. “Can’t sleep. Thought you might be awake too.” His storm-scent curled restless in the small room, sharp against the clean linen.

Severus mind rushed in every direction, but he made a space for Black” Hope you don’t have fleas” he muttered.

Sirius snorted, flopping down on top of the quilt without an ounce of grace. “Please. I bathe more than once a century, unlike certain greasy Slytherins I could name.”

Severus rolled his eyes, tugging the blanket tighter around himself. “You reek of dog.”

“I know you love it,” Sirius shot back, grinning in the dark.

Severus didn’t dignify that with an answer. He lay stiffly, wand still clutched loosely in his hand, as Sirius shifted closer—close enough that their shoulders brushed. The contact was casual, but it sent heat rushing through him anyway.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The whole house felt wrapped in quiet safety that Severus couldn’t quite trust.

Then Sirius’s voice came, low and unexpected. “Thanks. For helping me with Reg.”

Severus’s throat tightened. “You’re insufferable when you’re grateful, Black. Go to sleep before I hex you.”

Sirius chuckled, softer this time, and let the silence settle again between them.

Chapter Text

Severus woke to a bedroom that didn’t reek of damp stone like the dungeons, and didn’t sag with mildew like Cokeworth. For once, the ceiling above him was clean, pale, and unfamiliar.

Another unfamiliar thing was the weight crushing him. Heat wrapped around his ribs, arms clamped tight like a boa constrictor. Or worse—like the giant squid itself had risen from the lake and dragged him under.

“Ugh,” Severus muttered, shoving uselessly at the iron grip around his ribs. “You called Rosier a giant squid, Black, but look at you.”

The arms only tightened. A nose brushed the nape of his neck, shamelessly.

“Unhand me,” Severus hissed.

“No way,” came the muffled reply, voice thick with sleep.

“Die, Black.”

“Pass.” Sirius burrowed closer, scent warm with drowsy storm. “Haven’t slept like this since… ever.”

Severus scowled at the ceiling, and decided to close his eyes again for a minute. Severus would never said it aloud - but he also never had such a nice sleep before.

***

“Boys?” Euphemia’s voice rang gentle through the doors “Breakfast in ten.” Her footsteps faded down the hall.

Severus jolted upright so fast he nearly sent Sirius rolling off the mattress. “How did she know you were here?” His voice cracked, sharp with scandal. “And how she wasn’t suprised?”

Sirius flopped back against the pillow, grinning like a cat. “She always knows. Must be a mum thing.”

Severus glared, running a frantic hand through his hair “This is mortifying.”

“Relax,” Sirius drawled, stretching lazily. “She likes you.”

“She pities me,” Severus snapped. He paced once across the room. “And she thinks—Merlin, Black, she thinks—”

“That we were sleeping.” Sirius yawned, utterly unbothered. “Which we were.”

Severus’s scowl could have curdled milk. “Not like that.”

Sirius smirked. “Not yet.”

Severus’s wand was in his hand before Sirius finished the grin. A sharp flick, a whispered curse and Sirius’s hair exploded into a violent shade of bubblegum pink.

“What the—?!” Sirius sat bolt upright, clutching a lock in horror. “You little—”

Severus slid his wand away with a thin smile. “At last your exterior matches your maturity.”

Sirius glared at him through a curtain of neon pink.Then, to Severus’s horror, he laughed. “Merlin’s balls, I look fantastic. Wait until Prongs sees this. Maybe you should be a Marauder Sev”

“I would sooner hex myself bald.”

The door creaked open.

Both of them turned to see Regulus, who stood frozen in the doorway, eyes darting from Sirius’s shockingly pink hair to Severus. His mouth opened, shut again, then opened once more.

“…What,” he said at last, voice flat with disbelief, “am I looking at?”

Sirius beamed, tossing his pink hair like a model. “Morning, Reggie. Meet my new stylist.” He thumbed at Severus. “Brilliant, isn’t he?”

Regulus scowled “Did you bother him, my dear brother?”

“Bother him? He hexed me pink!” Sirius barked a laugh.

Regulus crossed his arms, unimpressed. “And clearly you deserved it.”

Severus tried very hard not to smirk.

“But why were you two here together?” Regulus pressed, suspicion sharp in his voice and before Sirius could retort, there was a loud pop.

Kreacher appeared at Regulus’s side, bowing low. “Young Master Regulus, I prepared your breakfast with Mistress Potter—exactly to your liking.” His bulbous eyes narrowed when they flicked to the Sirius, then at Severus

“Master Sirius,” Kreacher rasped, full of disdain, “always did love filthy scum.”

Sirius’s grin vanished and Regulus’s scowl deepened at that remark.

And Severus—Severus stand up straighter, black eyes flashing, every inch of him radiating the kind of cold fury that made even house-elves reconsider their words.

“Shut your mouth, Kreacher,” Sirius snarled, voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to talk about him like that.”

The elf blinked, wide-eyed at the fury in his master’s tone, ears twitching nervously.

Regulus stiffened, caught between outrage and shock. “Sirius—”

But Sirius wasn’t finished. “You want to sneer at me, fine. But you call him scum again, and I’ll—” His voice cracked with heat, raw and reckless. “I’ll make sure you never open that filthy mouth again.”

“Dont threaten Kreacher,” Regulus cut in, eyes narrowing. He stepped between them like a shield, glaring at his brother. “You don’t get to speak to him that way.”

Sirius’s storm-scent spiked sharp and electric. “He just called Severus scum!”

“And you’ve called him worse,” Regulus snapped back, stepping in closer, his own scent cold steel. “Don’t act the hero now. You humiliated him for years. You laughed while your precious friends hexed him and hexed him as well! What—suddenly you care?”

“It’s not the same—” Sirius flinched

“It’s exactly the same,” Regulus bit out, voice low and shaking with fury. “You can paint your hair pink, fly your ridiculous bike, run to your Gryffindors and play rebel all you like—but you don’t get to rewrite what already happened. You don’t get to swoop in and play protector when you were the one tearing him down.”

“And why do you care?” Sirius shot back, reckless fire in his voice. “Is he your boyfriend or what, Reggie?”

Regulus’s face went crimson with fury and embarrassment “N-no! Stop—” He took a step forward, fists curling, as if he might take a swing.

Kreacher gasped in horror, clutching Regulus’s sleeve. “Young Master, don’t waste your fists on blood traitors—”

“Shut up, Kreacher!” both brothers barked at once.

Severus, caught between them, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Merlin’s balls, could you both stop trying to out-stupid each other?”

Both brothers froze, glaring at him and then at each other, and before either could react, the door swung wider.

“Boys,” Fleamont Potter’s voice carried like a quiet spell, calm but firm. He took in the scene at a glance—Severus disheveled, Sirius pink-haired and bristling, Regulus crimson and scowling, Kreacher clutching sleeves like the world might end.

“The breakfast is getting cold,” Fleamont said with a sigh, “I would suggest you move to the kitchen. Now.” his sharp blue eyes left no room for argument which made all three boys to scurry quickly to the kitchen.

“Young Master deserves better than filthy half-bloods,”Kreacher muttered darkly, but wisely kept out of wand range this time.

Sirius half-turned, teeth bared, ready to lash back—but one sharp look from Fleamont froze the words in his throat. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets instead.

***

Severus sat flushed at the breakfast table, only now realizing with horror that he was still in his pyjamas. He hadn’t thought to change before Regulus barged into the room, and now the crisp tablecloth, polished cutlery, and Potter parents’ sharp eyes made him feel twice as exposed.

He risked a glance at Sirius, who lounged in his chair as if nothing were amiss, hair still violently pink, very much also in his pyjamas. Sirius didn’t seem remotely bothered by that fact.

Regulus was the opposite—immaculate robes, every hair in place. He ate with a composed elegance that made him look even more like the perfect heir of Noble and Ancient House of Black. Kreacher kept popping in and out with new dishes—toast cut just right, tea at precisely the right strength, all exactly to Regulus’s taste. Each time, the elf bowed low, fussing at Regulus’s sleeve or straightening his napkin as though pampering a prince.

With a sigh, Severus started prodding his eggs, dragging the yolk across the plate in aimless smears rather than eating.

“Well, boys,” Fleamont began, straightening his tie with deliberate precision, “after breakfast I will take both of you back to Hogwarts.”

“How are we gonna travel?” Sirius asked, crumbs spraying as he spoke around a mouthful of toast.

“By Floo, of course. “

***

After breakfast, Euphemia all but shooed Sirius and Severus upstairs, insisting they brush their teeth and change into proper school robes before Floo travel.

Sirius took his time, whistling off-key as he tugged his tie into a sloppy knot and ran his fingers through still-pink hair instead of fixing it.

“You know,” Sirius said with a wicked grin, “Prongs would drop dead if he saw you in his clothes.”

Severus froze mid-button, color creeping up his neck. “Please stop reminding me of that,” he muttered darkly. “Your mother insisted I borrow his sleeping clothes. I had no say in the matter.”

“I was just joking—they were actually mine, you know how I lalso ive here, right?” Sirius smirked, tugging at his crooked tie.

Severus’s head snapped up, eyes wide. “What?”

Sirius shrugged, casual as anything. “Yeah. I asked Euphemia to dug out mine from last year. Fits, doesn’t it?”

Severus’s face went scarlet “You are insufferable”

“Don’t worry, Sev,” Sirius drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe. “You look bloody brilliant in my clothes. Almost like you belong in them.”

Severus’s wand twitched in his hand, a curse was ready on the tip of his tongue—

“Boys!” Euphemia’s voice ringed up from downstairs, warm but firm. “Hurry up now!”

Severus snapped his wand shut with a scowl. Sirius grinned, unbothered, straightening his pink hair in the mirror.

“You’re saved by your bloody foster mum,” Severus muttered.

“Don’t worry, Sev,” Sirius winked “we can play later at Hogwarts.”

Sirius bolted down the steps two at a time, laughter echoing through the hall.

Severus lingered a beat, jaw tight, before tugging his robes sharply into place and following with as much dignity as he could muster.

***

The green flames roared, spitting Sirius and Severus out into the Headmaster’s office. Fawkes gave a sleepy trill from his perch, tilting his head at the sudden arrival.

Dumbledore was already there with Fleamont, hands folded behind his back, his expression unreadable.

“Thank you, Fleamont,” the old wizard said gravely. “And thank you, Sirius, for bringing all this matter to light..”

Sirius shifted, clearly wanting to ask a hundred questions, but Dumbledore lifted one long hand. “Patience, Mr. Black. I must attend to certain matters with Fleamont. I will speak more, in time.”

Before either boy could reply, Dumbledore swept a pinch of Floo powder into the fire. The flames flared emerald. “Potters cottage” he said lightly, then, with Fleamont at his side, he stepped into the fire and vanished.

The office fell silent except for the faint rustle of Fawkes’s feathers.

“Well. That’s that.” He swung toward Severus with a half-grin. “Shall we, darling?”

Severus only scowled, tugging his robes tighter. “If you call me that again, I’ll hex your teeth blue.”

Their footsteps echoed through the corridors, and with every corner they turned, eyes found them—pairs of students pausing mid-step, craning over shoulders, whispering into hands.

“Snape? With Black?”
“Merlin, is that pink hair—”
“Are they a thing now?”
“Is Black all right?”
“Is Snape all right?”
“Are they mad?”
“Are they shagging?”
“Just why?”

Sirius strutted through them with a ridiculous strung, pink hair glowing like a neon sign. Severus wanted the floor to split open and swallow him whole.

And then—

“Pads!”

James Potter rounded the corner so fast he nearly collided with them, Remus at his heels. His eyes locked first on the hair, then on Severus, then on the fact that they were together.

“What the bloody hell—” James’s voice cracked sharp enough to turn more heads. “You and him?!”

Remus’s gaze flicked over them both, quieter but no less piercing. “Well,” he murmured, “that explains the scent.”

“Jealous, Prongs?” Sirius smirked.

James’s jaw dropped. “Jealous? Of Snivellus?” His voice pitched high “You’ve lost your mind!”

Sirius only grinned wider. “Admit it. We look like the hottest couple”

A giggle of Ravenclaw girls passing by froze mid-step. Then, in perfect unison, they leaned toward each other, whispering furiously, eyes darting between Severus and Sirius. Their whispers turned shrill with excitement, and within seconds they were scurrying off down the corridor, faster than Filch’s cat, to spread the word.

Severus’s face went bone-white. He could already imagine it: by supper, half the castle would be convinced he and Sirius were actually together.

James’s face twisted. “You—you can’t be serious,” he spat, voice pitching too high. His fists curled at his sides, eyes darting between Sirius’s pink hair and Severus’s pale scowl like the sight physically pained him. “Of all the people—you’d pick him?”

Sirius only smirked wider. “Why not? He’s brilliant, brooding, and looks bloody gorgeous in my clothes. You’d pick him too, Prongs, if you had the chance.”

James’s jaw clenched. “I wouldn’t. He doesn’t belong to anyone.” His voice was low, almost feral, and he didn’t seem to notice how it came out.

Remus’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp and assessing. “So that’s what this is about,” he murmured.

James’s ears flushed red. He raked a hand through his hair so violently it stood on end.. “Don’t twist my words. I’ve got Lily. She’s the one that matters.” His eyes cut back to Severus, colder now, possessive in a way that made Severus’s skin crawl. “But Snivellus? He should stay what he’s always been. Alone.”

For a heartbeat, the corridor went still. Even the whispers behind them died.

Sirius’s smirk vanished. He stepped forward, storm-scent sparking sharp in the air, and planted himself between Severus and James.

“Don’t you dare,” Sirius said, voice low and shaking with fury. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that.”

James’s jaw clenched, fists curling. “So what, you’re his knight now?”

Remus exhaled slowly, watching the two of them like he was standing in the middle of a storm about to break.Severus,, stared at Sirius’s back too stunned to even make a sarcastic remark.

“No. But at least I’m not playing perfect with Evans while keeping Snape shoved in the corner like a backup plan.”

James’s face went white, then red. “You shut your mouth,” he snarled, voice cracking around the words.

Sirius’s smile was thin, dangerous. “Funny thing, Prongs, you know? You say he belongs alone—but you’re the only one who can’t stand the thought of him with anyone else.”

“Enough!” Remus snapped, shoving himself between them, palms flat against Sirius and James’s chests before they could lunge. “You’re acting like children—and half the bloody school is watching.”

Behind them, the whispers had swelled again, feeding on every word, every glare. Severus stood stiff and silent, black eyes unreadable, but his pulse thundered in his ears.

“I can’t listen to this anymore.” Severus hissed and turned on his heel, robes snapping as he strode off down the corridor.

“Sev—wait!” Sirius bolted after him, shouldering through the crowd.

James lunged, grabbing at Sirius’s sleeve. “Oi—what’s with all this? Him, of all people? And the bloody pink hair—”

Sirius yanked free without slowing, storm-scent sharp and electric in the air. “Shove it, Prongs.”

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Sirius sprinted down the corridor after Severus, leaving James standing with his fist clenched and Remus watching him with that unreadable, too-knowing stare.

“Severus!”

He caught up in a few long strides, hand closing around Severus’s wrist. The Slytherin spun, black eyes blazing.

“Let go,” Severus hissed, low and venomous.

“Not here.” Sirius’s grip only tightened. He glanced at the crowd of gawkers, then shoved open the nearest classroom door and hauled Severus inside.

The door slammed shut behind them, muffling the whispers outside. Dust motes swirled in the empty air, the desks abandoned, shadows stretching long.

Sirius didn’t let go until Severus wrenched free and whirled on him, wand half-raised.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Black?” Severus spat. His voice was sharp, but his eyes betrayed the flicker of something else—wariness, confusion, maybe even the tiniest shard of hurt.

Sirius’s chest heaved, storm-scent rolling restless around them. “Trying to make you listen before you shut me out again.”

“And what exactly do you think I haven’t heard a thousand times already?” His voice dripped acid.

“I’m not them,” Sirius shot back, words rough, spilling too fast. “Not James, not the rest of the pack—I’m not that boy anymore. The one who thought hexing you was the best laugh of the day. I don’t give a damn about the whispers in the corridors, or if half the school thinks I’ve gone completely mad.”

His storm-scent spiked sharp, frantic. “I care about you, Sev. You.”

Severus froze, lips parting, wand faltering in his grip—then Sirius closed the distance and kissed him.

He stiffened, a hiss snagged in his chest, but the wand slipped from his hand, clattering uselessly to the desk as his fingers twisted into Sirius’s robes. He yanked him closer, answering with bruising force, his mouth hot and unyielding.

The desk shrieked against the stone as Sirius stumbled back into it, laughing raggedly into Severus’s mouth. The sound was wild, breathless, like he’d just broken something sacred and couldn’t bring himself to care.

Severus bit him, sharp, punishing, drawing a startled gasp. Sirius only pressed harder, storm-scent sparking frantic, his hands clamping at Severus’s waist as if to keep him from vanishing.

“Bloody idiot,” Severus spat against his lips, voice shaking.

Sirius rasped, his grin breaking against Severus’s mouth. “Your bloody idiot”

Their tongues tangled, greedy, clashing like every argument they’d ever had. Severus dragged him closer until their teeth knocked, heat flooding low and insistent, treacherous.

Sirius groaned, crushing him harder against the desk, hips grinding flush. The friction pulled another gasp from Severus—half fury, half want—and he tilted his head, biting back, answering with a hunger that made the air burn.

Severus’s nails scraped down Sirius’s back. Sirius growled, caught his wrist, and retaliated by sinking his teeth into the sharp line of Severus’s shoulder.

“Black—” Severus tried to curse, but it tore into a gasp when Sirius’s teeth closed just under his ear, hard enough to bruise.

Severus clutched at him, head tipping back, baring pale neck to Sirius’s mouth. Sirius took it, laving a slow, taunting lick up to the nape of his neck.

The shudder that tore through Severus rattled the desk beneath them. Sirius laughed low against his skin, feral. “Look at you, Sev—shaking in my hands.”

“Shut up,” Severus snarled, but his hips betrayed him, surging forward against Sirius’s

Sirius’s head dropped back, wild grin splitting his face. “That’s it. Merlin—do it again.”

Severus’s nails dug deeper under his shirt, dragging red lines down his back. Sirius hissed, then shoved him back onto the desk, crushing their mouths together again.

The air was thick with their scents —twined heavy, intoxicating—too much to separate, too much to stop.

“Merlin’s beard—” the door creaked open.

Both boys froze, still pressed flush against each other, lips swollen, robes disheveled, Sirius’s hand halfway up Severus’s shirt.

Professor Slughorn stood in the doorway, face turning puce, hand fluttering at his chest. He coughed so violently his mustache quivered.

“Oh, boys,” he managed at last, sounding near scandalized. “I am going to pretend—purely for my own peace of mind—that I didn’t see any of this.” His eyes flicked to the desk, winced, then darted away. “But for next time—please, please, for the love of Merlin—don’t use this room. It’s where I keep my spare cauldrons.”

Severus went crimson, scrambling to straighten his robes. Sirius just leaned back against the desk, still grinning, hair wild, lips bruised.

“Sure thing, Professor,” Sirius said, winking like he hadn’t just been caught mid-grind. “Wouldn’t want to disturb the cauldrons.”

Slughorn made a strangled noise, muttered something about “youth,” and fled, slamming the door behind him.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Severus glared at Sirius, cheeks still burning. “I hate you.”

Sirius laughed, reckless and triumphant, hair wild and lips bruised. “No, you don’t.”

Severus’s wand twitched into his hand before he even thought about it. “Finite.”

In a blink, the bubblegum pink bled back into glossy black, falling over Sirius’s forehead the way it always had.

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. “What, tired of your masterpiece already?”

Severus scowled, tugging his collar straight. “I can’t stand looking at it anymore.” His voice was clipped, precise, but there was a flicker of heat in his cheeks he couldn’t smother.

Sirius smirked, softer this time. “So you prefer me like this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Black.” Severus shoved past him toward the door, though his wand hand still trembled faintly.

Sirius leaned back on the desk, watching him go with a grin.

***

Severus wasn’t religious by any stretch, yet he still found himself half-praying he wouldn’t run into a Death Eater on his way. He had Charms now, and for once in his life, he was grateful not to be heading to Potions specially after that make-up session with Black. The memory alone was enough to send a rush of heat crawling up his face.

A hand closed suddenly around his arm. Severus jolted, wand snapping halfway up before he even thought. He spun, ready to hex—only to find Emma at his side, Ravana lingering just behind her.

“Calm down, Sev, we were looking for you,” Ravana said, her tone careful but steady.

“What for?” Severus asked sharply, though his wand dipped a fraction lower.

Emma stepped in, voice softer. “First you were gone and then… We’ve been hearing things. Whispers all over the corridors. People staring. We just wanted to make sure you’re… all right.”

Ravana crossed her arms, eyes flashing. “Yeah. And if anyone’s giving you trouble, you tell me. I’ll hex them, or punch them if I have to—especially if that someone is Sirius Black.” She smirked, clearly picturing her fist connecting to Sirius face. Severus knew she hated Sirius enough to mean it.

“I’m fine,” Severus muttered “ I dont want to be late for charms”

Emma and Ravana exchanged a look—one anxious, the other amused—but neither pushed as Severus slung his bag higher and started walking, robes snapping behind him.

They fell into step beside him before he could fully disappear down the corridor.

“You’re not fine,” Emma said, blunt as ever. “You’ve gone red three times in five minutes, and you only do that when you’re furious or—”

“Don’t,” Severus snapped, heat crawling up his neck.

Ravana slid closer, one brow cocked. “If this is about the rumours, don’t fret. Gossip burns bright and then fizzles—people will find something else to gossip about by supper.” She gave his arm a light, conspiratorial poke. “But if anyone’s being a prat, say the word and I’ll rearrange Black’s jaw before the week is out.”

Severus shot them a look that might have been gratitude if his face hadn’t been trying so hard to look deadly serious. He kept walking, faster now, the three of them swallowed by the hush and shuffle of students moving between classes.

“It’s not about Black,” he muttered, jaw tight.

Emma’s eyes widened, then narrowed with sudden suspicion. “So you also fancy Potter?” she blurted, a little too loud.

Severus’s voice came out low and dangerous, every word bitten off. “What. Are. Those. Gossip. Exactly?”

Emma winced, glancing sideways at Ravana for backup. “Just… you know… people talking.”

Ravana shrugged, utterly unapologetic. “That you and Sirius shagged. That you also shagged his brother just to get back at him. And—oh, my favourite—that you were so heartbroken over losing Evans you went and stole Potter right out from under her nose. Apparently he’s madly in love with you now, and you engineered the whole thing.”

Emma buried her face in her hands. “Ravana!”

Severus went rigid, pale with fury one second, scarlet with humiliation the next.

“ … and you believe that?”

“No!of course not” cried Emma

“Not a word of it, Sev. You know how people are—they’d rather invent a scandal than admit they don’t know the truth.”

“Right. And I’m late,” Severus muttered, already lengthening his stride.

“See you later at dinner!” Emma called after him. “And you’re sitting with us at the Hufflepuff table.”

Severus half-turned, scowling. “What is it now?”

Ravana smirked. “We want you to meet a friend of ours.”

“Ugh. What friend?”

“Charity Burbage. She’s really nice,” Emma said brightly.

Severus didn’t answer. The girls weren’t subtle—he knew exactly what they were doing. They were trying to save him from the stares and whispers, and probably worse, that would be waiting at the Slytherin table. And they knew he’d never go near Gryffindor—not after today’s gossip. Hufflepuff, as ever, was the middle ground. Ravenclaws were too proud, too aloof, preferring to keep to themselves. And though a few among them had whispered allegiance to the Dark Lord, they wore their loyalty differently—subtler, more cautious than the brash cruelty in Slytherin.

Emma nudged him lightly, as if reading his thoughts. “Besides, Charity’s sweet. You’ll like her. She just recently presented as an omega—so she knows a thing or two about people staring, whispering, making a fuss.”

Ravana smirked. “Difference is, she’ll hex the next idiot who tries it. Which is why you two will get on.”

““Ah yes. I forgot—you lot like to collect omegas the way some people collect Chocolate Frog cards.”Severus’s mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a smirk.

“That’s exactly what we do,” Ravana shot back without missing a beat. She clapped him on the shoulder, grin sharp. “So we’ll collect you after Charms and march you to the Great Hall together. No excuses.”

“Yes, mum,” Severus muttered, rolling his eyes as he pulled away toward the Charms classroom.

He slid into his seat with his usual scowl, wishing—that the Ravenclaws would be more concerned with their grades than with gossip. Their endless whispering cut sharper than any hex, and today every half-heard laugh felt like it was aimed at him—which, he suspected, it was.

Across the room, the Slytherins regarded him with open disdain, their sneers and sidelong glances like daggers. Disgust hung in the air thicker than potion fumes,.

“Now then, settle down, all of you,” Flitwick chirped, bright eyes scanning the room. “Charms is not the place for idle chatter. Wands out—we’ve work to do.”

***

Ravana and Emma kept their word. The moment Flitwick dismissed the class, they were already waiting outside the door like a pair of guards on duty.

Severus barely had time to shove his books into his bag before Emma looped her arm through his. Ravana fell into step on his other side, steering him firmly toward the Great Hall as though they’d planned an escort mission.

Severus was glad they were emanating their calming omega scents as they walked through the Great Hall. The Slytherin table turned almost in unison—gazes hard, disdainful, some openly sneering. Gryffindors leaned over their plates, smirking, whispering behind hands. Even Ravenclaws, craned to watch.

Severus’s face schooled into indifference, but his pulse drummed against his throat. Emma’s grip on his arm stayed steady, Ravana’s glare daring anyone to try their luck. Together, they guided him toward the Hufflepuff table, where Charity happily introduced herself to Severus.

Sirius wasn’t happy. Seeing Severus at the Hufflepuff table—of all places—with those two omegas made his chest tighten. He wished he’d been the first to ask, the one to give Severus a seat, to shield him from the glares. But he knew it wouldn’t have worked. Severus would never sit at the Gryffindor table beside him—it would make him a target for every whisper in the castle.

Sirius legs twitched under the table. He was ready to get up, to cross the hall and drop himself down beside Severus no matter who watched. But before he could move, he caught Remus’s eyes.

A sharp look, steady and deliberate. Then, low enough for only Sirius to hear—“No. Don’t. You’ll only make it worse for him.”

Sirius froze, the words striking deeper than he wanted to admit. His fists tightened against his knees, but he stayed put. He glanced at James, searching for something—support, maybe—but James didn’t look back. He kept his eyes fixed on his plate, ignoring him.

They’d patched things up, mostly. James had muttered an apology, insisting he hadn’t meant what he’d said—that Lily was the only one for him, and if Sirius wanted Severus, well, that was his choice. Sirius wasn’t fooled. He knew it hadn’t come from James alone. Remus had pushed him into it, because if James had refused, if he’d kept lashing out, it would have been too obvious. Too much like he wanted Severus for himself.

Across them,Lily ate quietly, trying not to watch Hufflepuff table—but her eyes strayed anyway. Severus, seated with Ravana, Emma, and now Charity, looking almost… safe. Almost at ease. The sight hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Because she had asked him, once, to sit with her. Again and again, she’d tried to fold him into her world, into her circle of friends. And every time, he’d refused. Always too proud, too bitter, too Slytherin. But them—he’d agreed. Just like that.

Lily’s chest ached with a regret she couldn’t quite name. He had called her Mudblood. He had chosen shadows over her, bitterness over friendship. She had told herself that was the end of it. That he was gone to her. But watching him now—surrounded, even briefly, by people who seemed to want him—she couldn’t help wondering that —if she had been braver. If she had been more patient. If she had tried just once more—would he have chosen differently?

She glanced at James. He was eating in silence—unusual for him, his fork moving mechanically through his food. Lily heard the gossip too, but she pretended not to care.

James would propose soon—she could feel it, the way he looked at her, the way his parents treated her already like family. That was her future. That was what mattered.

And maybe… maybe it was good that Severus wasn’t her friend anymore. Maybe it was for the best. Because if he had stayed by her side, if he had lingered in her life—wouldn’t that have only made James more obsessed with him?

The thought sat heavy in her chest, an ache she tried to swallow down with every bite.

***

Severus was glad he’d agreed to sit there. Charity was easy company—laid-back, kind, her voice quiet in a way that didn’t demand anything from him. She smiled without pressing, spoke when spoken to, and didn’t seem to care about the storm of gossip swirling through the hall.

Still, he could feel the stares. Especially the stubborn ones—the ones who never let go once. Sirius, of course. His gaze burned from across the hall, reckless and impossible to ignore. And Lily.

That one startled him. He hadn’t expected her eyes to linger, sharp and unreadable. But then, he supposed, it made sense. The whispers were everywhere—that he had a thing for her perfect, golden James Potter—the thought alone made his stomach twist; the rumour was so foul it made him want to retch.

He glanced at Lily again. Often, he caught himself wondering—against his better judgment—what things might have been like if he and Lily had stayed friends. The thought came less and less these days, but it still crept in at the edges, impossible to ignore when he had to see her every single day. She had been his first friend, after all—and he would always, always cherish the good memories they had, even if their paths were meant to be pulled apart.