Chapter Three: Reunions

Reunions

Sirius had watched the werewolf and Lucius climb the stairs, and had waited until the door closed quietly behind Lupin, his sensitive hearing even identifying which door closed. He didn't need to listen to know if a different door would close behind Malfoy, he knew it wouldn't; they had shared a room since Lucius had arrived. Draco had gone to the room behind the kitchen a while back, seeming a little more contented with his lot since Hedwig had brought Harry's message; Sirius had a suspicion he knew why that was. He was alone now, except for the man who had his head bent over a book that Sirius knew he wasn't reading. For a moment he wondered if they would stay like that forever, he standing watching as the stark white centre parting in the black mess of hair eventually became unseen, as the years of dust collected on it, because both of them were too stubborn to make the first move. Probably, he thought, he'd better not chance it.

'You know forever is a very long time to hate someone,' he said instead.

'Oh, I don't hate you, Black.' Snape didn't bother to lift his head. 'Hate requires emotion. You are so far beneath my contempt that I struggle to even identify you.'

Sirius said nothing for a moment. He considered leaving Snape to his cold bitter self, but then he would be alone as well, and he didn't think he wanted that. He uncorked the whisky bottle and splashed a small one for himself and one for Snape. 'Cheers,' he said flatly, and tossed half the drink over his throat.

Snape looked up at last, narrowing his black eyes in suspicion. 'If you're angling for a fuck, forget it.' He dropped his head to the book again.

Sirius was so surprised that it took a manful effort to swallow the whisky in his mouth, instead of spraying it across the table. 'I wasn't, not from you anyway. I'm bored, not desperate,' he snarled, quite taken off guard.

'Make yourself useful then,' Snape replied. 'The dinner plates are still lying waiting to be washed; Draco seems to have forgotten again.'

'I'll wash if you dry.' Sirius grinned. He knew it was only a matter of time until his boyish charm wore Snape down; he reckoned if they could stay in this cottage together for another five or six years he might even get a civil word out of the arrogant fuck.

'Do I look like a house-elf?' The black eyebrow had risen as Snape looked up again.

'No,' Sirius replied, carefully dulling the edge that threatened to come into his voice. 'You make Kreacher look like a young Tony Curtis, actually.'

'Who?'

'It doesn't matter; it's going to lose something in the explanation.' Sirius backtracked. He didn't want to break this fragile line of communication, where the hostility had almost descended to banter. It was the longest conversation he'd had with Severus since, well, since he'd fucked up the last time, a lifetime ago. He looked at the pile of dirty plates; he knew Lupin knew a good spell for cleaning them. 'If I wash them and dry them ...' He let it hang.

'No. Go to bed, Black. I have work to do here.' The shutter had come down.

Sirius sat smoking and watching him for a few more minutes, watching the head bent deliberately over the book Snape wasn't reading again, the same thin line of white scalp where his hair parted with what looked like a vengeance. He smiled to himself. Severus must know he noticed he hadn't turned a page yet; even Lucius could read faster than that. He'd smelt the arousal on Snape the other night, below the hostility and the black armour and the self-doubts, same as it was tonight. Sirius didn't want to push it though; it was too soon. It had only been seventeen years; he thought he'd better give it another hour or so.

*****

Severus sat with his eyes closed, waiting until his pulse rate returned to normal, until he heard the last of Sirius's footsteps, and a door closing somewhere upstairs. He drained his whisky glass, so he could blame the scald at the back of his throat on the spirit; he had become a master at fooling himself over the years. He hadn't let himself be deceived tonight though, not by Black, not by his lying blue eyes, promising one thing and delivering another; he'd learnt that lesson the hard way. He was still picking up the pieces of his broken life, like fallout scattered over so many years that he felt sure they would still be lying around when he was long gone.

He picked the book up again and opened it at the part that Rowena Ravenclaw had written, puzzling over the rhyme again.

"It's here where none can come and go,

Safe where none can come to call."

He fretted over it, turning it this way and that. It must be the brooch; it was the only single item that she mentioned, apart from her sword, and for some reason he didn't think it was that, not when it hung out in open view in the Ravenclaw common room, along with her shield.

Snape knew he had to get to Hogwarts; it must be in a portrait somewhere. Damnit, he wondered how he was going to work this. A few ideas ran through his mind, mainly ones centring on imbibing Polyjuice and donning the persona of the werewolf, but he needed the ingredients for the potion, and it would take days to brew even with an accelerator. He came to the uncomfortable conclusion that he was going to have to enlist the awful Harry Potter. Damnit to hell and back, he cursed to himself.

Severus sat back, feeling the strain of the last few days lessen slightly; he didn't care to admit it to himself, but he was glad that Potter had written to Draco. He really needed someone at Hogwarts, someone who didn't mind flouting a few rules and stealing a few stores. He heaved a sigh. He hated taking Polyjuice; it upset his stomach for days, and he felt his guts recoil at the very thought. Maybe he'd get Potter to take a good look at all of the portraits of Rowena Ravenclaw that were at Hogwarts; he could enlist the even more awful Granger to check where they all were. He'd get Lupin to ask Black to ask him; it wouldn't do for him to do it, he smirked to himself. He wasn't quite ready to let Potter know he was in any way useful; he was going to have to use him soon enough.

His thoughts ran to Black again for a moment, before he managed to catch them. He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this; he'd treat him with the disdain he pretended he felt ... it was better than reality. He shut it away, in the cold place, and stood up.

*****

Sirius was almost asleep when he heard the stairs creak at last. He'd begun to wonder if Snape had fallen asleep downstairs. He tried to banish the sudden panic he felt at the tiny draught as the door opened. This was a mistake; Snape would throw him out, which was a pity ... it had seemed like such a good idea.

He watched the Slytherin turn slowly. He could tell Snape knew he wasn't alone, just as he knew he wasn't going to light the room. Sirius hoped he wouldn't trip over his boots and break his neck. He hardly dared breathe; he knew just how fragile Snape's ego was, just how brittle the shield of black armour he covered himself with was. He'd play this any way Snape wanted to; if he wanted to pretend, that was okay with Sirius.

His eyes had the twin benefit of having been accustomed to the dark and his heightened canine sense; it let him watch as Snape undressed slowly, removing his frock coat and draping it over the chair, untying his cravat and letting it hang loose about his neck as he unbuttoned his white silk shirt. Sirius saw the gleam of pale skin as Snape freed first one shoulder, then the other from the shirt, and discarded it along with the cravat. He felt the bed sag as Snape sat on the side of it and removed his shoes and socks. Sirius smiled to himself, sneaky old snake keeping the best for last, as he felt his heart quicken a little.

'You can get out now, Black.' The voice was cold and dull.

'I don't want to,' Sirius said quietly.

'Suit yourself.' Snape stood up and began to gather his clothes.

'Severus, wait ... please.' Sirius watched him turn again. He saw the slump of Snape's shoulders, and he knew he'd done that; he didn't know how to make this right, or even if he ever could. 'How long have I to serve this sentence?' he asked.

'Forever,' Snape said flatly. 'Forever sounds good to me.'

Sirius watched him sit and quickly pull on his socks and shoes, before deciding not to allow this; he had some pride. He got out of the bed and crossed the room before Snape could lift his frock coat, gathering his own scattered clothes with a muttered spell as he went. 'You don't have to go ... I was just leaving,' he snapped. 'If you hurry and get in, the bed's still warm, something you'd never manage, you cold fuck.'

He refused to look at Snape; he didn't want to see the pain, but he didn't manage to shut out the little gasp he heard, the sharp involuntary intake of shock. It stopped him in his tracks. He wouldn't do this; he couldn't bear it. One of them had to stop this. Sirius knew how he'd look before he turned again, knew his head would be hanging the way it had hung all those years ago when Sirius had set out to hurt him and humiliate him as much as he possibly could, for having the audacity to make him fall in love. No matter how Sirius tried, or how long a time had passed, he could never forget the day Severus had finally accepted that there was nothing left for him; he would take it to his grave.

'I was nineteen, Severus,' he whispered in explanation.

'So was I.'

*****

Severus tried to keep the bite out of his voice, the sting from his remarks; better not to say any more, better he should let Black do the talking. He didn't know why Black hadn't left yet, why he was prolonging the game; surely he had given up on humiliating him by now. Severus wished he had lit the room, but it was too late now; he'd have to read Black's voice, as he stood there half-clothed and vulnerable in the soft darkness.

'I never looked at anyone else after we split up.' Black paused for a moment, as though expecting, or maybe just hoping for a reply. 'Never, I swear it.'

'Since the only competition for your dubious attentions were the Dementors, I shall take that in the spirit it was intended,' Severus returned quietly, surprised at how cool he managed to keep his own voice.

'I didn't understand,' Sirius replied with what sounded like a flash of anger. 'I didn't understand that you can't tell your heart who to love. It just flings one at you, and when you're nineteen sometimes you think you know better. Don't tell me you think I didn't love you, and you didn't love me; I know you did.' Black trailed off, and Severus thought he'd finished; he didn't have a reply anyway. 'And I think you still do,' Sirius added softly into the darkness.

Severus stood in silence; he had nothing left to say. He felt Black come to some sort of decision; maybe he'd had enough of the game after all.

'Do you want me to leave?'

Severus couldn't answer. There was only one reply, neither yes nor no, but he didn't know the words for what he felt. He felt the silence hang, only realising his eyes were closed when he opened them as he felt Black's hand on his waist from behind him, the feather touch of his breath on his shoulder, and thought he would die of it.

*****

The involuntary flinch was surprise, not distaste, Sirius knew that, just as he knew an overtly sexual move would be a mistake. That wasn't what he was here for anyway, he realised, it was only the way he explained it to himself.

He took his time picking his words, there didn't seem to be any hurry now. He moved forward a tiny bit, increasing the pressure of his fingers ever so slightly, as he dipped his head to Severus's hair. 'I wasn't angling for a fuck,' he said quietly. 'I was begging for another chance.' He wanted to turn Severus around and pull him to his chest, or maybe turn the clock back seventeen years.

'I couldn't understand it,' he went on. 'I couldn't understand why everyone had someone ... socially acceptable ... and I was stuck with you. I knew you must have enchanted me, or used some sort of charm on me. How could Sirius Black be in love with a sullen, ugly half-blooded pauper?'

Snape said nothing, but Sirius thought he leant back a little; maybe he was imagining it. 'James had Lily, Bella had just got married, Reggie had a girlfriend, there were even rumours going around that Lucius Malfoy's "mistress" was none other than Lupin ... and you'd made me fall in love with you so I couldn't find anyone else. I was so angry with you, Severus. I was Sirius Black; I should have been able to love whoever I wanted to.' Sirius felt himself shake his head at his own folly.

'So you tried to destroy me?' Severus broke his silence.

'Yes ... and destroyed myself instead.'

*****

Severus felt that at last he had a focus for all of the hurt and torment, the years of bitterness and emptiness, the years as a Death Eater, while Sirius rotted in Azkaban, and he could only howl his regret that at nineteen he had been hailed as inadequate as a man and a lover, labelled in his own mind forever. It all coalesced into a pinpoint of fury.

'Do you have any idea of what you did to me?' He spun, and spluttered his outrage. 'Do you think you can stand there and expect me to accept that you didn't understand your own pathetic prejudices ... that they could be an excuse for what you did to me?' He felt the resentment subside as quickly as it had risen; it left him feeling utterly drained, as though it had sustained him for so long that its absence left him bereft, unable to stand without it. 'You wanted another chance? What about the second chance I begged for? The second chance you bragged about to your fancy friends, and laughed about as an after dinner speech ... what about my second chance?'

He didn't give Sirius a chance to respond; he didn't want hear any more of what he had to say. 'I was wrong when I said I didn't hate you, Black. I do. I hate you so much that it doesn't have name.' He lifted the frock coat that still lay where he'd draped it across the chair, as some instinct of self-preservation kicked in. He felt sick, sickened, by Black, by what had happened over the past few days, but most of all he felt sickened by himself.

He staggered out of the door and slammed it behind him.

*****

'How the fuck should I know where he's gone?' Sirius snarled across the table.

Lupin raised his hands, palms facing outward. 'I only asked if you knew. Don't bite my head off if you've got a hangover.'

Sirius looked away. He wished he'd been the one to leave. Wherever Snape was, at least he wasn't in this godforsaken excuse for a safe house. He turned in time to see Malfoy junior walking down the stairs with an attitude for company; that was all he fucking needed. He stood up and flung the door open.

'I'll see you later, Remus,' he offered in some sort of apology.

'Sirius, you can't go out; you know that.' Lupin had stood as well; he pushed the door shut.

'I can't sit here doing nothing.' Sirius looked away. 'Anyway, I'll change into Padfoot. I need to find Snape. All we need is for him to get lifted by unfriendly Aurors. There's a lot of bad feeling towards him out there.'

Lucius raised his head lazily from where he'd been reading and trying in vain to ignore the other two. 'How do you know?' he asked with his eyebrow raised. 'You haven't been out for longer than me.'

Sirius spun on him. 'Button it, Shirley, I'm warning you. I'm just in the mood for you today.' He flung the door open again, and jumped back as Harry almost flew into his surprised embrace.

*****