Archive of Our Own

I never expected him to be sitting there in the kitchen together with the rest of the Order. But apparently the word 'never' should be scratched from my vocabulary after everything I have been through...

He was not with the others at the table. Instead he had chosen the chair next to the oven which Molly and I used when we were waiting for the food to cook. He didn't look up when I entered the room. As if I would expect any kind of attention from him.

"Ah, Sirius, over here!" Molly called and gestured me into the free place right next to her. I sat down and let her give me a generous portion of her stew.

She always made stew when the Order ate at my house. Secretly, I admired her skills at cooking: all the chopping, peeling and stirring, which she managed with only the slightest of movements of her wand, with the precision and elegance of a conductor of the Wizarding Philharmonic Orchestra.

So I dug in.

If nothing else, then the fact that at least I finally didn't have to live on rats and kitchen scraps any more was a positive thing about this blasted place.

My eyes slid briefly toward Moony, who was sitting opposite me. He appreciated Molly's cooking as well. The amount of food he was shovelling down on a daily basis was doing him a great deal of good. Everyone noticed it. Especially Tonks.

Just then she was telling him something involving lots of giggling and eye rolling. Something very amusing for sure, because Moony put his spoon down for a moment and smiled at her. Not the always-polite-Lupin-smile, but a real smile with lips curled upwards and the skin around his eyes folded into small fans. A true I-appreciate-what you-are-saying-smile.

I better averted my eyes, for I didn't want to be caught, while gaping at them both. I turned my head, determined to pay attention on the food on my plate. But I couldn't resist darting a look toward Snape quickly.

Somehow it was just typical of him to sit in a dark corner, apart from the rest of the crowd. As if it would be beneath him to spend time with common people. Yet for myself I was glad he was sitting exactly where he was. The idea of Snivellus and myself at one table was somewhat nauseating to me, and the last thing I wanted to do was spoil the taste of Molly's wonderful stew.

Molly poked me gently in my side. "Hey!" And I averted my eyes from Snape to meet hers. "Is something wrong with the food?"

I suppressed my chuckle. Molly and the concerns of the careful house wife. I shook my head: "No, it tastes wonderful. As always."

She beamed at me briefly, then turned back, to her own plate. I did the same. But when a moment later I lifted my head accidentally, Snape's form sitting in the shadows was at the centre of my view again.

He was reading a book in that unnerving way of his, which hadn't changed much since the school. Many times I watched his hunched back, slumped shoulders, and his head hanging so close that his nose and his greasy hair were almost brushing the pages. And so he could remain for hours, being oblivious to everything and everyone around him. It had been so easy for James and I to levitate a bowl of spiders and empty it over his head. The shocked shriek and the wild dance he rewarded us with entertained the whole school for days.

Even now my fingers were itching and somehow by themselves moving closer to my wand. How tempting the urge was to perform a prank on him like in the old days. Just for me, and in the honourable memory of James. And to make Remus smile his real-smile yet again.

No, I couldn't do it. Not tonight.

Regretfully I told my fingers to stop. "What is he doing here?" I asked Molly instead.

"He is waiting for Albus. Some last minute instructions before his next assignment."

"Ah."

The bitterness in me always leaves the taste of bile on my palate. I washed it away with the stew. Assignment, mission. And all I have to do is to dwell in this place, which I hate almost as passionately as Azkaban.

No, I didn't want to think about it. Not now. I turned to my plate and finished the stew.

Albus arrived when Molly and I served the tea.

He stepped into the kitchen in all the dignity and crimson glory of his velvet robes, politely declined Molly's offered cup, approached Snape and lightly shook his shoulders. Immediately Snape snapped back into reality. Looking a bit irritated and a lot confused, he lifted up his head and automatically distorted his face with a scowl. Albus met this scowl with an indulgent smile. "Would you come with me, Severus?"

Snape's scowl eased a bit. He nodded, closed his book and hid it among the folds of his robe.

Albus turned to the rest of us. "Have a nice evening," he said in a friendly tone, and went out.

Snape followed him, never saying a word to any of us.

As if I cared.

"Impolite bastard," someone muttered. The rest of the table grunted in agreement.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's Snape."

The rest of the evening was peaceful and friendly. Much more friendly, since a certain greasy haired creature wasn't pestering the kitchen with its presence. The air always seemed to be more breathable when he wasn't around.

I looked in Remus' direction. Feeling my gaze he turned his head and nodded at me in silent agreement.

Yes, with Snape it has never been any different.

Only Molly seemed not to get it.

"He is risking his life for the Order," she told me newly during one of our breaks in the endless household chores.

We were both in the library, cleaning the books. Household charms were never my specialty, so instead I helped her with picking up, holding or fetching. Right now I was levitating the heavy tomes one by one and placing them onto the table, next to the bucket of water. Not an entirely enticing activity. But I was doing it anyway. I wanted to make myself useful to the Order in some way.

Molly moved her wand and the charmed cloth started to wipe the dust off the surfaces.

"Oh really?" I replied, and knew that my voice was dripping with sarcasm, but couldn't help it. "I think everyone is taking a great risk for the Order. Even you."

"Me? With what? With my shopping in the Diagon Alley? With my letters? With my checking on every owlery we haven't used yet? Those are only small things, nothing important."

"But you are still taking the risk that someone from the Ministry becomes suspicious. You could be arrested."

"Arrested by the Aurors. But not by...them."

"Who cares?"

Molly threw me her famous look and put her hands on her hips. Her posture made me angry. I wasn't one of her children!

"They are all alike, Molly. One day they are going to start killing each other"

"But Snape..."

"Snape is no different. Even if right now he is licking Albus' boots."

"Yeah, really. That's rich. So as long as he is needed for dirty work he might be useful. But then he can go to hell. Is it how you see it?"

I dropped another load of tomes onto the table. Some water splashed out of the bucket.

"Yeah, exactly!"

"Sirius!" She did indeed look alarmed over my feelings about Snape! I probably didn't explain it clearly enough to her. Well, it was high time I did. "Look Molly, I know what I'm talking about, ok? 'Cause I've known him a bit longer than you have. And I'm telling you, he hasn't changed one iota since school. He is still the same nasty, snarky, slimy and greasy git he was before. And if you want to know more about him, just ask your children."

"I know he is an awful teacher. But what he is doing for the Order is something far different."

"Yeah," I snapped back and turned to levitate another pile of filthy tomes. I could feel Molly's gaze on my neck.

"You know, Sirius, I think this thing between you and Snape is rather personal."

Again I slammed the tomes onto the table. Damm that woman! How had Arthur put up with her for so long?

"And you're right," I snapped, "it is personal between me and Snape. I had Wormtail in my hands. I literally begged that son of a bitch to understand at least that one time. But no! He was only interested in his own private vendetta. If it wasn't for him, I would be free now. I will never forgive him for that, Molly! Never!"

The look she gave me was unreadable. Whatever she wanted to tell me, I was more than prepared to brush it off. But to my surprise she just said: "Levitate some more of these books. I want to be finished before Arthur comes home."

Household chores were never my thing.

Growing up in a place where all the work was carried out by the house elves didn't help any. But I do it anyway, for it's the only activity available as a distraction. Otherwise these dirty walls and trophies of slaughtered house elves would fall down on my head.

I hate this place.

It symbolises everything I have loathed and despised since I began to compare the world outside to the world inside. At sixteen I ran away and never came back. See, I really should scratch the word 'never' from my vocabulary. After all, in Azkaban I was convinced that I would never get out. So while I hate this place, I fight it with a method, which seems to work for me: I cleanse, wash and purify every dirty spot I can get my hand, towel or brush on.

As I said, I've never excelled at cleaning spells. So what I can't get off with magic, I'm trying to in the old fashioned way. Since neither Molly nor Remus are here now, I'm getting in gear all alone.

I make lots of noise while I'm at work. I push things here and there, sing off key and even talk with myself. The last one perhaps could be the ultimate proof that I have definitely gone mad, but at least it doesn't make me feel so alone. After all, I have been the best company for myself all the time: in prison and on the run too.

Besides this amount of noise always drives Kreacher into hiding.

In the evening I'm often so tired that I fall asleep over my food, and either Remus or Arthur help me to my room.

Those nights I don't dream much. Thank Merlin.

Someone shook my shoulder. I woke up with a jerk and almost hit whoever dared bother me at this ungodly hour.

It was Remus.

"Kingsley found Snape at the corner of the street. Molly and Albus are in the kitchen. They need our help."

I responded with a grunt, pulled on a t-shirt and grabbed my wand.

We arrived in the kitchen and found Molly and Kingsley levitating about five cauldrons filled with water and setting them onto the stove. Albus was hunched over Snape's prone body lying on the floor and examining it for cast spells.

Snape's hands were trembling violently.

Albus' brows furrowed into a serious frown. Then he lifted up his head.

"Sirius, I need a bathtub."

I nodded, knowing exactly what to do. My parents were so conservative that they refused to build bathrooms in their house, because it was a Muggle invention. So showers were the first thing I added when I came back.

But now we needed a bathtub. My gaze fell on the kitchen table, and after a moment it stood there: large, made from red marble, with a golden tap and plug. Even though the tap wouldn't be needed on this occasion. It wasn't bad considering my illegally gained wand and me being out of practice. Even Albus nodded in silent approval before he turned to Molly and Kingsley.

"Is the water warm enough?"

They nodded in response.

"Very well. Then pour it into the bathtub, please. Remus, Sirius, please put Severus in." Then he turned to the kitchen sink and started to sort the herbs and phials with potions.

I exchanged a disgusted grimace with Remus, then Remus shrugged in response and bent over Snape. He was reaching for the buttons of his waistcoat as if he was afraid that any moment Snape would lash out and hex him into the next room for daring to touch him.

But nothing like that happened. Snape was still lying deathly still Not helping me a bit, the greasy bastard. I wrestled him out of his outer robe and was .not entirely careful, mind you. Then the damned waistcoat was off too. The next challenge was the buttons of his shirt. Somewhere in the middle I looked at Remus and he looked at me. We both sighed in mutual agreement: undressing Snape was a dreadful task, like everything which had even so slightly to do with him. Yeah, dreadful and dirty. Like the shirt soaked with Merlin-knows-what. Disgusted, I dropped the thing onto the growing pile of Snape's garments. The odour of bodily fluids increased and I felt the remnants of my supper churn in my stomach. Even Remus had difficulty keeping his face neutrally polite. He was suppressing a gag pretty badly. No wonder; what awaited us were Snape's trousers reeking with urine and... eww! That! Precisely!

Who did this to him? Actually the answer to the question was fairly clear. That a repeatedly cast Cruciatus made you piss your pants is known to everyone, but what sort of curse caused your body to sweat a greenish, foully smelling slime was a mystery to me.

I heard Remus' soft: "Molly, we need some towels."

Kingsley brought them. Again Remus and I looked at each other in a wordless communication. If nothing else, this was Snivellus' best revenge possible for all the pranks and insults.

I broke the eye-contact and resolutely grabbed the towel, while Remus started to pull those damned trousers off. Then Snape's underwear followed, which was in a worse state than even in his schooldays when I revealed it for everyone to see.

Albus' voice interrupted my musings. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah," Remus answered for us both.

"Then we can proceed. Please, put Severus into the tub."

Lifting Snape up wasn't too difficult. He might be tall, but without the piles of clothes he weighed almost nothing.

The water in the tub was hot. Molly brought a folded towel and put it under Snape's head for a pillow. Kingsley approached the tub as well carrying a tray with some phials and several bowls with dry herbs. Emptying the first bowl, Albus started to chant.

"The strength of the roots,

"The life in the leaves and in the blossoms..."

Slowly in a sort of strange dance the herbs snowed onto the water surface until they were entirely covering Snape's lifeless body. For a moment I believed the man was dead and Albus was wasting his time. I wanted to stop his hand, pluck out the phial and tell him: "He is dead." At least the world would become a bit more bearable even with Voldemort and the Ministry breathing down our necks. Mine especially.

But I did nothing, and Albus' hand moved, pouring the colourless fluid all over the bathtub, where the water slowly turned light blue.

"The magic in this potion

"The magic in the herbs

"Brings things in motion

"Force away the dark and helps

"To heal"

The water in the tub started to bubble.

Albus took his wand and pointed it at Snape's body:

"Corpus Osmosis!"

Black streams of something very dark and evil started to seep through the skin straight into the water. The blubbering grew louder, Snape's body curled and immediately straightened again and then the blubbering stopped as suddenly as it started.

Albus emptied another phial into the now pitch black water. "Finite Incantatem."

The herbs vanished and the water turned clear. Next to me I heard Remus asking: "What was it?" But from Albus' reply I only understood the part about this thing being really nasty when combined with Cruciatus.

Inwardly I shrugged. I'd never expected anything else from that lot. And everyone who hung around with them deserved no better.

Remus was nodding, his face academically interested. Then Albus bowed over the tub and patted Snape's cheek.

"Severus, wake up my boy."

I turned and left the kitchen before things got even more pathetic. No one stopped me and I was glad that they didn't even try. What I did for that git tonight would be enough for another decade.

But before I crawled back into my bed, I took a long shower.

The next day I heard the rest of the story anyway. Molly, with Kingsley's help, reported it over breakfast. Even Remus - after his third cup of tea and sixth slice of toast - gave his expertise about the treatment of Magnus Nox with the help of a marble bathtub. Tonks listened in rapture.

I said nothing, because firstly I preferred to drink my coffee in silence, and secondly I really needed to eat my scrambled eggs if I wanted to finish scrubbing the blasted staircase today. It still didn't prevent them from informing me that Snape was alive and well, and resting in one of the guest rooms.

"He can rest - even in peace..." I shot back, and with that I stood up and ignoring Molly's shocked "Sirius...how could you!" I started to wash the dishes.

Being useful for the Order, you know...

. The others didn't stay for too long. Tonks and Kingsley had to go to work, Molly to go shopping yet again, and Remus went wherever Albus send him.

I remained in the kitchen alone in the in the company of dirty pans, plates, cups and saucers. I washed them with my hands, since Molly gave up teaching me her useful charms after I broke several of her favourite bowls. Then I dried the dishes with a spell which is usually intended for drying hair, but in this case it worked just as well.

Did you know that a house witch knows about fifty different cleansing spells? Not to mention a broad variety of charms to bring and keep things in order. And then comes the collection of dirt dissolving potion recipes and polishing draughts.

And I always thought that my Auror training was difficult.

After several attempts which varied from mild success to average disaster, my respect for Molly and the house elves grew exponentially.

Still musing my musings I finished the dishes and, pouring some water into the bucket, I started to wash the floor. Then I found a book lying in the corner near the stove.

It was a common cheap paperback edition, of the type which fit perfectly into the pocket of a robe when one wanted to read something on the way.

Probably Molly's.

I put it into my cloak and, reminding myself to give it to her when she returned, I finished the floor. But when Molly came back I was cleaning the staircase, so I hadn't the occasion to speak to her.

The rest of the day passed quickly. Kreacher didn't bother me that day, thank Merlin, and Snape I met only once, when I was scrubbing the parquet on the second floor. But this time Snape miraculously refrained from his Cinderella remarks, or I swear I would have drowned him right on the spot. Either he was still dizzy or he felt that the orange-green-violet dress robe didn't have the needed impact. Molly's good hearted gestures are sometimes brilliant. So this time Snape only sneered at me down his nose and disappeared behind the door of the bathroom.

I bent again over my work, imagining that every old parquet was Snape's face.

In the evening I was so tired that I wasn't able to even think. I drank the tea Molly poured me, ate something, and tried not to look in Remus' direction. I didn't need to watch their heads getting close in the heat of a very important discussion. And I didn't need to watch the amused faces.

Remus had his task, his purpose, people around him who cared for him. He was happy and I was happy for him as well.

Sort of...

I finished my tea and said good night to the company.

I'm sleeping in the master bedroom. While it is not as pleasant a place as my childhood room once was, it has an advantage, one which I took care to have since I gave my room to Harry.

I have my own bathroom.

I built it in the large niche where once stood my mother's bath tub. I still remember her bathing there ceremoniously under the assistance of Kreacher and ten other house elves. The first thing I did when I moved here was to build a proper bathroom with shower stall and ceramic sink. Seeing it, Remus smiled at my furious and determined efforts. But I didn't find it amusing in any way.

I hate this place. Regardless of what I'm doing.

When I came out of my shower, clean, proper, and ready for bed, I found the book on my night stand.

I reminded myself yet again to take it to Molly the next morning.

Yet that night I woke up with a nightmare.

Dementors were circling me, their slimy hands grabbing after me, the capes of their robes falling back, revealing their ugly mouths with fat lips. And these lips were coming closer then they opened so I could feel their foul breath as they leaned over my face to...

I woke up screaming.

The first minute or so I needed to figure out where I was and that it was all only a nightmare. Then I made a brief trip to the bathroom and took a shower. A long and hot one, with lots of soap. As if it would wash the horror away! But at least it made me clean again.

In the mirror over the sink I caught sight of myself: prominent cheekbones, hard line of the mouth, framed by a pair of deep folds, eyes lying too deep in their holes and white hair growing at the temples.

Once I was Sirius the sexy, Sirius the bright. Now it is only Black the bitter or Black the insane.

Black the useless, but trying to be useful through.

I returned to the bedroom and pulled on a pair of clean PJ's. But I was afraid to fall asleep. I tossed and turned on the bed, until I gave up and said Lumos to my wand.

It hovered over my night table and threw its smooth golden light onto the book. Molly's book. Yet knowing nothing else to do and needing desperately to take my thoughts off the nightmare, I opened it.

To my surprise I liked what I read. The story wasn't exactly my style, the text was a bit too pathetic, but interesting at least in that it was a love story between two young wizards and the family of one of these wizards didn't approve of the joining. Not so much because of the gender, more because the lover came from a less honourable house. The story of the wizarding world and its pureblood nonsense.

I read through the first four chapters, then yawned, and before I fell asleep again I reminded myself to ask Molly tomorrow if I could borrow the book.

In the morning I was just going down the stairs when a dialogue in the hall stopped me.

"Molly," said a certain voice which pulled at my nerves in an unpleasant way and reminded me that Snape on an empty stomach was far worse than a street full of bloodthirsty Aurors.

"Yes, Severus?"

"It seems that I've lost my book. Have you seen it?"

Now I was close enough to see them both. Snape was back in his pathetic black attire and Molly seemed to have just come in, because she was still wearing her heavy winter robe. Right now she was shaking her head in regret.

"I'm sorry Severus."

To my wonder, Snape made a grimace which showed that he felt sorry too, because Molly obviously took pity on him.

"But perhaps you should look in the kitchen? Weren't you reading it there during the evening before your last assignment?"

"But I took it with me."

"Then try to ask Remus or Sirius. They both were ...", she paused abruptly, "you know..."

Snape's grimace changed from sorrowful to disgusted, signaling Molly that indeed he knew.

"I asked Lupin and he knows nothing about it."

At this point I was already standing next to them both. Of course Molly spotted me immediately. Snape shot me his patented there-is-not-enough-room-for-us-both look. I ignored him. Molly opened her mouth to ask me the obvious question, but I cut her off, because they stood between me and my breakfast. "I haven't seen the sodding thing," I murmured, passing them both.

But while chewing my toast, there was only one thought echoing in my head, like coming from a broken gramophone: His book, his book, his book...

That day I dropped the cleaning.

I always thought that I was the only gay man in the Order.

Another 'nice' addition to my exceptional status of being the only one: the only Animagus, the only ex-convict, the only person who was not permitted to leave the house.

Ok, ok, I know, that the last one is meant only for my own good.

So now at last in this one point I'm not the only one any more. I should feel delighted and probably I would, but you know... Why did it have to be Snape, of all people?

Why not Kingsley, for example? Or Molly's eldest - what was his name? - yeah, Bill! Nice bloke, but straight to the core and busily ogling Tonks. Too bad that Remus is ogling her too and she is ogling him right back. Not that I'm ogling them both too visibly. But their ogling of each other is so obvious that the rest of the Order already noticed and the betting pool on ogling changing into snogging already contained 50 whole Galleons.

Well, life is short and you can't take your money with you to the other side.

So why that greasy git? Why should it be Snivellus with his grace of a hairy spider and teeth like a horse?

Not that I ever noticed it before. For I never looked or even thought about him in such a way.

Snivellus and sex?

Shudder!

I would rather shag a Dementor in his place.

Or I'd rather never get it up for the rest of my life.

No, stop! Not that!

Of course I wish to go out of this house one day as a free man. To have a good time outside here, some fun and a partner who will make me hard, fuck me silly and finally catapult me straight to nirvana.

One way or another. For I hadn't had any erection since I got arrested fourteen years ago. And probably never would have, because of Snivellus and the picture of his bony arse.

James was right! This man indeed has to be blamed for everything. Even for that!

Sitting onto the edge of my bed I extinguished my fifth cigarette of the morning and reached for the sodding book. Even if one couldn't get it up, at least one could read about guys who still can. Let's look what dirty fantasies Snivellus is into.

But the book went beyond my wildest imaginings.

Of course, there was sex in there. Lots of it to be truthful, described in pretty graphic ways. But it was the story which drew me in and held me there the whole time, till the very last sentence.

As I stated previously, the story was about two wizards being in love with each other and the family of one of them - Amis was his name - didn't approve.

So Amil helped Amis to escape from the estate of his parents and the both of them spent an idyllic summer in a small cottage somewhere in the woods, which is actually the whole story.

The time in this cottage stretches over pages and pages, describing sunny mornings in their bedroom and evenings in front of the fireplace. It is about listening to the rain drumming onto the roof and watching the stars at night. It tells about talks and walks through the forest, swimming in the lake, reading poetry, cooking of breakfast, lunch, dinner and - the most important activity - having sex at every time, place, opportunity and position. With thorough foreplay, exploration, release and aftermath. Not to mention the countless mentions of touching hands, deep looks, blushing and deep kisses, and the ever present and never ending declarations of love.

Of sweet love.

Of eternal love.

Of never ending love, which lasted only this summer. For one day these lovebirds were found by Amis' family, whose members killed Amil in front of his lover and took the rebellious son back to the family estate, where the boy spent the rest of his life as a bitter man, being imprisoned in one of the towers.

Yet still remembering the only summer in his life.

I never read this sort of fiction before. It has simply never been my taste. Too sweet, too overloaded with all this mushy stuff and all in all utterly pathetic.

But before Azkaban I was a different person. Especially during those few years after I finished Hogwarts and before James and Lilly died.

I lived two hundred percent: fucked every man who was willing, attended parties which ended with the sunrise, ate, drank, made friendships, fought Voldemort without any second thought, because it was simply the right thing. I savoured every day as if it were my last.

Looking over the abyss I managed to climb out from, I think that I did the best thing I could.

There are no regrets for me. Except for one, for which perhaps I will be never able to forgive myself.

So in those days I didn't pay any attention to romantic fluff. Now eons of years later I swallowed this book in one reading and when I reached the end I turned it to the beginning and did the same for the second time. Meanwhile it was morning again and I ate my breakfast mechanically, cleaned the kitchen as quickly as possible and then read the book for the third time.

The fourth time I read it in between my chores to calm Molly's suspicions a bit, because she, like the others, was worried about my latest sulkiness. I started to carry it permanently in the pocket of my robe and in this way I managed the fifth and even sixth reading. By the seventh I could already recite the text of whole chapters. By the eighth I had checked the blasted thing for any obsession charm, but either my illegal wand really was bad, or my skills were rusty, or there was really nothing foul there.

I would have liked to ask Molly or Remus for help. But I had already lied through my teeth to the woman and I would rather die than tell my friend about my current obsession with Snape's romantic love story.

Besides, these days Remus seemed to be preoccupied with other things which strongly involved Tonks and silencing charms. So I kept my mouth shut and concentrated on a closer examination of the book.

It was rather small and thick, wrapped in an old copy of Daily Prophet, but how old it was I couldn't tell. The same went for the author: I'd never heard of her name. Yet the care with which the book had been glued back together several times, the pages which were turning yellow and fragile around the edges, the spots of dried tea and the lines of ink marking the sentences here and there - these were all signs that the right owner read it as obsessively as me.

What had he been searching for in it?

I still could see him sitting in the kitchen during that evening. His quiet posture, his greasy hair falling down, his yellow fingers caressing the paper while his eyes swallowed the text.

Why? Why him and this book for Merlin's sake? And why my sudden fascination with it?

If we were still in school, I would have held Snape's book high so everyone could see it and then read from it aloud for everybody's entertainment, and so that everyone knew that the slimy, arrogant Snivellus with his sharp, cynical remarks and dirty underwear, liked to read romantic novels. I'm sure that James would have made jokes about it for years.

But James is dead and I'm sitting in this blasted house of my parents, trying to act normal and dreaming about being somewhere else.

In a cottage in the woods for example.

But while I can't be someplace else, at least I'm reading about it, sucking all the sweetness and happiness into me, because someone else sucked my own happiness out of me years ago and spit the rest out, for there wasn't anything else to take.

But at least once I was so full of life that I gave it out with full hands. I wasn't born empty and hollow and so greedy for warmth and compassion that I should be forced to take it from other person or even feed myself from a story in a book.

I wasn't born as a Dementor nor as Snivellus.

Meanwhile I caught my hands caressing the book in the way Snape did on that evening. I was turning the pages reverently one by one, searching for the most favourite places in the need to escape my present, or at least to take part in the happiness of others.

And it didn't matter that their love lasted only for this one summer. What mattered was the sex and the declarations, their going to bed together and waking up there the next morning.

It mattered that it happened.

And the one who read their story could be there with them as well. The one with empty bed, empty hands and empty heart.

It was during the ninth reading when I became sure that I had found Snape's favourite passage. It was short. Only a few paragraphs at the end of the sixth chapter, when Amis was sitting in the grass holding Amil's head in his lap. They both were watching the dawn.

"It's everyone's right," Amil said.

"What?" Amis whispered back.

"To be loved."

There were some dry spots spread across the page.

Probably spilled tea...

And then I died.

When I think about that moment, I can't but feel a bit of irony about the nonsense of the way it happened. And somehow I can't otherwise but admit that somewhere in the unconscious part of my brain I held this secret wish, which came out uncontrollably to the surface and spilled out into my provoking sentence:

"You know, you can do better!"

And ironically, Bellatrix fulfilled my wish.

But later, when everyone pried and asked me what had I seen behind that veil, I couldn't do anything but shrug my shoulders because I really didn't remember anything.

The next thing I could tell was falling down to the ground panting and sweating and thinking seriously, the bitch was indeed in remarkable condition. Then straightening myself I looked around and my second thought was: where is everybody?

I went out of the room and left the Department of Mysteries. The corridors there were empty but the noises coming from the upper levels told me, that there was a full normal busy day in the Ministry. So I changed myself into a dog. Not that it hadn't been known since last summer, but seeing my face people would react much faster than seeing a dog and being forced to put two and two together first. So in this way I would win some precious time to escape.

But on this day I was luckier than I'd imagined, because after about hundred meters or so I ran into Arthur.

I couldn't judge it properly through my dog's eyes, but later Arthur told me that in that moment he thought seriously that someone hexed him and he was hallucinating. The only thing I could see was a man leaning himself heavily against the wall, his glasses held in his left hand and a handkerchief in his right hand, wiping the sweat off his face. Slowly I approached him and nudged his hip with my snout. Immediately Arthur put his glasses on and himself together:

"Snuffles?" He whispered hesitantly.

I whined in response and wagged my tail.

"Merlin! How...? That's... that's impossible!"

Again I nudged him.

Hesitantly Arthur stretched out his hand and patted my head. I barked in response, which finally made him realise the whole situation.

"Shhh...! You will alarm the Aurors," he patted me once more, "come with me."

He took me into an empty room which I recognised as the place where once the public hearings of Voldemort's followers took place. How convenient! I looked up at Arthur. He shrugged his shoulders:

"I'm sorry my friend, but my office is right next to the Aurror's Department. But these days this place is empty. Last time it was used, it was Harry's hearing taking place here. You still remember that ridiculous thing, don't you? All right... Look, I'll leave you here and close the door and then inform the right people. Then I will come back to you, agreed?"

I transformed back into my human form.

"Agreed," I said.

Arthur literally jumped back, which surprised me rather unpleasantly. But before I could compose any coherent question, he pulled himself together and the next moment I got almost shredded in his tight hug.

I took some deep breaths first, just to make sure my ribcage was still intact, before I asked the most important question.

"Arthur, what happened?"

Arthur's shit-eating grin faded. "You were dead, Sirius."

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead. Bellatrix Lestrange sent you straight beyond the Veil."

Dead... The meaning of this word hit me full force, so that I had to sit down and somehow didn't care that it was *that* chair, with *those* manacles.

So I was dead...

"How long, Arthur?"

"I would say for almost three weeks."

"So..."

"Yeah...So? So what?"

"That when I stood up from this sodding floor I found myself to be completely alone, wondering where everyone was!"

Arthur waved his hands: "Not so loudly, please. These places might be empty, but you know... things happen. And you want to get out, don't you?"

"Yeah, right. The sooner, the better."

"So then let me get something. I think right now I'm getting an idea." He headed toward the door. At the threshold he stopped: "Don't you... you know, when you have been there...."

I shook my head: "Sorry, I don't remember anything."

"Ah, ok, ok. I will not stay away for too long. I promise."

With that he left me alone.

"Lumos!" I told my wand to make this room a bit less creepy. Even if nothing could beat Azkaban or even the house of my parents. Somehow in my life I'm prone to being stranded in creepy places.

Thank Merlin, Arthur kept his promise and returned only a half hour later holding a bag. I let out a breath I had been holding the whole time. If he had been away longer, then I would probably have started crawling up the walls.

"Exactly as I predicted," Arthur said panting but grinning. "When I need someone, then no one is available. Kingsley is on assignment since yesterday; Tonks took some time off, and Albus is very busy, or so Minerva told me." He pointed at the bag: "So we have to improvise a bit."

Hesitantly I opened it and pulled out a red, silky robe, a blond hair piece and a black hat with a black veil.

"Women's clothes, Arthur?"

He shrugged his shoulders and grinned: "Well, if I'm correct, then they are searching after Sirius Black and not after Alphonsine Weasley my dear niece."

"I'm too old to be your niece."

"Traditionally a mysterious lady companion is always introduced as a niece or a cousin. Hopefully I will be able to explain it to Molly."

The idea of Arthur having a girlfriend cheered me up. I put the outfit on and voila - dear Alphonsine was there.

"How do I look?" I cooed at Arthur.

"Dashing dear," Arthur cooed back, then he blushed. "Hopefully there will not be many people to see us. You know, this place is a fish bowl."

He ushered me out into the corridor and offered me his elbow. I pulled the veil over my face: "Where did you take these things from?"

"Don't ask," he whispered back and then we stepped out towards... well , my 'freedom'.

There really weren't many people in the corridors. The few we met were obviously hastily leaving for home. They just greeted us shortly before they rushed by.

We entered the lift and left again in the main hall. In the middle stood a strange construct blocking a view of a pile of ruins.

"The fountain," Arthur whispered.

"What?"

"The You-Know-Who destroyed it in the fight with Harry and Albus."

"WHAT?!"

"Shhhhhhhhhhh... not so loudly! I will explain it later." He started to pull me away.

"Finishing a bit sooner today, Arthur?"

Arthur stirred, then slowly turned toward the voice. I turned too. A small wizard stood there wearing a grey beard and a knitted, green robe.

"Ah... yes, Ignacius. Today I'm making an exception. Now, excuse us please, we have to go..." Arthur pulled at my elbow to get us out of Ignacius' reach. Fat chance.

"Nice companion you have here. Would you introduce her to me?"

"Ah... that's Alphonsia... my niece..."

Ignacius' eyebrows shot up: "Your niece?"

He made a step forward. Instinctively I drew closer to Arthur and looked chastely at my feet.

"A bit shy your niece, but quite pretty, Arthur, you old dog."

"Can we go?" I piped in my softest voice. "We have still to get those tickets."

Ignacius laughed, Arthur's hand shot toward the collar of his shirt to loose the pressure.

"Of course my dear," he croaked as determined as he could. "Bye Ignacius, see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," Ignatius made a cheerful bow, "until tomorrow Arthur, Miss..."

The rest of the way to the lonely phone box we accomplished without any similar encounter. We pressed our bodies into the tiny phone cell. "Two people leaving," Arthur said into the receiver and then slowly, the phone box lifted up. The journey lasted too long for my patience. Before it reached the surface in the deserted part of Muggle London I seriously thought of screaming. I hate being confined in small places! But finally the door of the tiny cell opened and relieved, Arthur and I stepped out. We were alone in the shabby street.

Immediately I pulled the sodding veil off my face: "Did I destroy your reputation today?"

"Completely," with relief Arthur loosened his necktie, "Ignatius gossips like an old woman" He stuffed the necktie into the pocket of his robe. "Can you apparate?"

"I think so."

"All right. Let's go, then!"

And the next moment we both vanished.

When I told to Arthur that I didn't remember anything I spoke the truth.

That might sound a bit disappointing, but that was the only thing I could tell him. And that was what I told everyone, who stopped clutching me and started to formulate that particular question. And mostly their faces mirrored the disappointment as well.

But as Remus told me, one can't help it. It is how it is.

Moony brought it all to a head during our all-night session which started with butterbeer and ended with several bottles of the good old Ogden's. It was for the first time since I could remember, that my always reserved and composed Moony got drunk, and in the end he cried on my shoulder how he had missed me and how I wasn't to dare do that again. The next day he spent with a hell of a hangover and Tonks frowning over him but saying nothing.

The worse thing was with Harry.

He knew about me for sure, because literally everyone wrote to him, giving his or her own version of my appearance in the Grimmauld Place. But he didn't answer for some reason, until I lost my patience and wrote to him that if he didn't show up I would leave the house and come to get him personally.

This last argument worked, and the same evening Harry landed his Firebolt on my threshold.

I'm not entirely gifted with psychology and how to deal with disturbed teenage boys, so I reached after the centuries proved method, which is as old as men and alcohol. I poured him a drink and after a gulp or two Harry loosened up enough to finally spill everything. And hearing his confession I poured myself one as well and the session with the good ol' Ogden's continued until the bottle was empty and Harry was lying sloshed in my arms.

Here I really don't want to repeat what Molly said to me in the next morning. I didn't argue with her. Firstly she was right that Harry wasn't even sixteen, but on the other hand she had always had a tendency to treat even Bill as if he were still wearing diapers. And secondly I had already learned from experience that a woman would never understand things like these.

All in all Harry might have been green in the face the next morning, but he felt much better after I swore I forgave him. But for what he had been through I really couldn't blame him.

To win Molly's good will back, I made a peace offering and asked her to help me throw a party for Harry's sixteenth birthday. Proving to her that I'm capable of remembering such a thing as my godson's birthday, Molly finally acknowledged that there might be at least a bit of responsibility in me and started the preparations with her usual energy and talent for organising family events.

Thanks to her the party was a success. The cake was big, the sixteen candles burned proudly, the table groaned under the loads of food, the pile of gifts looked impressive.

And Harry looked dazzled and finally happy.

The Weasley kids attended as always, Hermione came too, I also invited Neville and Harry's new friend Luna, though the strange looks she threw me were rather unnerving.

In short, everyone had a good time.

Yet myself I sat in the corner, nursed my milkshake, watched the members of the Order and played over in my head my latest conversation with Albus.

He apparated to Grimmauld Place shortly after my arrival. He looked tired and older than even his one hundred and thirty years. Wordlessly he took me in his arms and for the first time since my return back to life I felt like shit.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled against the fabric of his robe.

"No Sirius, I'm sorry." And then his shoulders shook and I held him the whole time until he calmed down.

I made tea for us both, spiked it with... you know what and to my delight, after a few sips Albus' eyes were twinkling again.

"We had better not tell Minerva, Sirius. That good woman is always worrying about my health a bit too much."

I swore it solemnly on my honour as a Marauder.

In a far better mood Albus finished his cup, but when I offered him some more, he refused very politely.

"There is something you should know, Sirius." And with that he grew so serious, that it almost frightened me. I swallowed the lump in my throat: "Is there anything wrong with my... existence?"

"No, everything is all right as far as I'm aware. The spell which brought you back is a very powerful one and very ancient. I never imagined that beside myself and my friend Nicolas someone else could cast it properly as well. Although with this person I shouldn't have been surprised."

"So it wasn't you."

"No, I'm sorry."

Somehow this statement disappointed me. Albus was the most powerful wizard I knew. My thoughts must been visible on my face, because Albus patted my shoulders gently: "When I said I would be able to cast it, then I meant only my magical abilities to perform it. But there are other things needed as well: like for example great passion and deep emotions toward the one, who should be returned back."

Something clicked in my head:

"Remus!" At least that would make sense.

But Albus shook his head: "No, Sirius. I'm sure he loves you dearly, but his affections are not deep enough. For this sort of spell something is needed which goes beyond any boundaries of friendship. And besides, as good and powerful a wizard as Remus might be, it is still not enough for this kind of spell. His lycanthrophy costs him too much."

"Then who? Don't tell me it was Harry!"

"No. Harry is too young for this. It is possible that one day he will be so powerful, but it will take years until that point is reached. No Sirius, the person who brought you back wishes to remain unnamed."

Carefully, I put my cup onto the table.

"But I have to know Albus. If this someone so to speak saved my life, then I'm in his debt."

"This someone gave up any right to require the debt to be paid back."

"I don't understand."

"Me neither, Sirius. This spell was very risky and dark too. It almost cost this person his magic."

I rubbed the bridge of my nose in frustration:

"Then why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have the right to know. I might be bound by my word to not reveal this person's identity, but - judging how clever you have always been - I don't doubt that you will find it out on your own."

Thereafter we didn't talk much. Again I offered him some more tea. Albus accepted and we drank it in thoughtful silence. When he arose, a bit apologetically, because of too much to do and so little time, I took him to the door. On the way my mother called him the Licker of the Mudbloods' Heels, but he took it with humour and wished her a good sleep.

At the threshold I halted him for a moment:

"Then at least, please tell me if this person is a member of the Order."

Albus mustered me for a moment, and then his eyes twinkled: "Yes," he said and then he was out.

And so a week later I found myself brooding in the middle of Harry's birthday party, still mulling over the question as to who was such an idiot to risk his or her magic to rescue my sorry arse, for Merlin's sake.

Around me the party went on. Mundungus brought a harmonica, Kingsley a set of African drums - probably his family's treasure - and together they produced such a noise that they even reduced my mother to silence. Or she gave up trying to beat them. Whatever. The main thing was Molly's pedagogical and slightly disapproving frown - a proof that the younger ones were having a good time.

Someone's hand placed a plate with birthday cake right in front of my nose.

"Don't tell me, you are brooding again."

I didn't need to look up. Remus' voice told me clearly that I was making him nervous again.

I took a sip from my milk shake: "Don't worry, no plans for leaving the house or similar activity."

Remus' voice switched into the defensive immediately: "I'm just asking, Padfoot. I didn't mean..."

I looked at him meaningfully.

"Ok, ok, I meant it then, when I asked."

I sighed: "Moony, I'm just thinking, all right? Just thinking... about things and such."

"About things..."

"Yeah, about things. After all I was dead, wasn't I?"

Remus suppressed a grimace. Very badly. He still squirmed whenever I mentioned it. Except for the night when we both got drunk, he avoided the topic like the plague. Watching him I felt again the pang of slight disappointment that he didn't yell at me for making my decision, for leaving him alone again, for causing him so much pain. Actually, when I thought about it, no one did yell at me. It was always: oh, Sirius, you are alive Sirius, we all missed you Sirius.

But only one brought me back.

Remus wasn't it. But to blame him would be unfair. Myself, I never knew that this might be even possible.

But still I felt so disappointed that it wasn't him.

I thought I should stop this. Remus was always my friend. He would do it, if he could, if he knew how. On that I was ready to bet my soul.

I nudged him gently, which brought him out of his own brooding. He turned to me and then he smiled and I smiled back. We still didn't need any big words to make things between us clear again.

With the corner of my eye I caught Tonks looking at us. I nudged Remus again:

"Go to her."

"What?" He turned to Tonks too.

"I said, go to her. I'm fine."

He threw me an I'm-not-so-sure-stare.

I scowled back: "I'm fine Moony."

Hesitantly Remus stood up, but the hesitance fell off him with every step he made toward her.

I was sure that Tonks wasn't it either. She might be a good Auror, but her powers didn't stretch that far. Or so had been my observation. But who knows, what she would be capable of if it were Remus dying in my place?

Kingsley, that would be another case. He was older than Tonks. More experienced and skilled. But how did Albus put it? There is a deep passion needed. And as far as I could remember, there was nothing between us which would go beyond polite interaction between two colleagues. The same goes for Bill.

And it wasn't Mundungus either. Fine fellow, yes, yet advanced magic? Complicated spells? Bringing the dead back to life? Nope, sorry.

And lastly there was Molly. That was something completely different. On the surface I would say: a house witch, knowing hardly more than some cleaning spells. But one shouldn't underestimate Molly's devotion to her family. She would do it, oh yes. And never mind how dark and dangerous it would be. Her own life and magic would play only second fiddle here. Not to mention the difficulties with the Ministry.

But I was neither Molly's child, nor her husband.

And so, when I excluded the children, there remained only Moody in the room. But Moody, Auror to the core of his soul, would never ever consider anything even slightly labelled as dark.

So it seemed that I had run out of every candidate present in the room.

My gaze slid towards Albus, who was just whispering something funny to Arthur, because the man started to laugh aloud.

Damm that old coot and his secrets! I should figure it out by myself. Wonderful!

Perhaps I should, yet who would tell if I did? When my knight in shiny armour wishes to remain unnamed and even made such a noble gesture? I tried, Albus, ok? But sorry after a week or so I failed. I had already wasted enough time of Harry's party trying to solve the sodding puzzle, checked everyone in the room, yet wasn't successful even with most of the Order being present!

So let's eat the cake!

But as quickly as I grabbed the fork I let it fall again.

Because it wasn't the whole Order present tonight. I started to check the list of all the absent people, when a name suddenly popped up in my head. A name of a man who would never ever participate in an occasion like this. With my presence like the icing on the disgustingly sweet birthday cake. A certain git who always managed to bring my blood straight from zero to boiling point and vice versa. A greasy haired bastard who knew all the bizarre hexes and dubious charms and executed them with envy bringing brilliance.

Of course, only when I made the mistake of allowing him to execute them.

Now everything Albus told me made sense. And if this was the truth, then Merlin's knickers, my life had never been more fucked up. Not even when the Dementors were coming to snog me.

Shit!

On the other hand I could ignore Snape's generosity entirely and leave the whole situation as it was. But I knew myself too well. When it came to Snivellus, then hell would freeze over before I cared about the pathetic attitude of our resident Prima Donna.

So Snape thought it beneath him to show up.

Hmmmmm....

But I knew of one thing which would bring him here.

Secretly I left the party and ten minutes later Ron's owl left my house and took off in the direction of Hogwarts. The letter Pig carried away contained only one single sentence:

'Snape, I have your book.'

It was in the deepest depths of the night - three thirty as my watch showed me - when the door to my bedroom opened.

I really have no idea how he figured out where I was sleeping, but he was there, standing pathetically in the doorframe and scowling at me down his nose.

"I want my book!"

Half relieved I sank back into the pillows with a groan. Thank Merlin it wasn't the Aurors as I feared at first. 'Only' Snivellus, my favourite nightmare.

"Damn it Snape! Can't it wait till the morning?"

Harry's party lasted long into the wee hours. The kids were chipper even at three am and Molly insisted that before we went to bed, the kitchen had to be cleaned up.

For certain things I'm really too old.

But Snape obviously being awake and chipper as well shook his head vehemently until the bangs of his dirty hair flew across his face. And remained sticking there.

I just wanted to sleep.

"Ok, there is it." I took the book from my night table and threw it at him.

Snape caught it. Satisfied, I turned my back to him, hoping that now, since he finally had the blasted thing back he would shut the door and go to hell.

At least any other sane person would do. But unfortunately we are speaking about Snivellus here.

"Did you have your fun, Black?"

Slowly I turned toward him.

"Yeah," I said, "it was fun, indeed."

And now get out of here.

Snape sneered and something else briefly distorted the expression on his face. His staring was unnerving.

"What?" I asked, more irritated than angry.

He shook his head slightly: "I should have known," he tossed over his shoulder, as he finally turned to go.

That made me fully awake.

"Should have known what?" I shouted after him. "Should have known what, Snape! Hey Snape! I'm talking to you, you greasy bastard.!"

Meanwhile I was out of my bed, running after him into the corridor. On the way I yelled "lumos!" and then I was waving my lit-up wand under Snape's nose. Several doors opened, bleary eyed faces were peering at us. Then Remus came out with Tonks in tow. Molly and Arthur came from the other side as well. Above my head I heard some light steps and knew that the kids were awake too. All of them, I bet.

With the corner of my eye I saw Remus approaching me:

"Sirius, what's going on?"

But I didn't pay any attention to him. I was staring at Snape, who white faced leaned against the wall, his book clutching in his bony fingers and holding it in front of him like a sort of shield.

Why wasn't he doing anything to defend himself?

Remus came closer. I felt his hand lying on my arm soothingly. He was communicating with me in that sort of calming way of his. As if saying to me: don't worry, you are not alone in this. And simultaneously - I swear - I felt another presence behind my shoulder. A ghost of my past, a friend who had always stood at my side in situations like this.

I snorted and the moment of dejavu vanished. What remained was only a vague feeling of disgust with myself and Snape. Same old, same old. Wasn't it always so? He could easily bring the worst out of me in spite of seconds. And in return I could easily turn the cool, cynical Snape into pitiful Snivellus, who was being pulled through his own dirt. And still I could, unlike Snivellus, almost always come out of this white as a lily.

Like for example now, when he is simply standing here like a wounded deer, I'm pointing my wand at him and Remus thinks that I'm doing it in a sort of self-defence.

How rich!

I let my wand sink and started to turn toward Remus, when suddenly Snape found his voice:

"Still insufferable, Black, aren't you?" He croaked and when I looked back at him, the moment of dejavu returned immediately and I saw Snivellus at his most desperate, as he always had been when I or James had pinned him against the wall or the floor, telling him what his next humiliation would be. And always, even in his powerless state, he lashed out at least verbally with all the venom and acid in his words, which hit us painfully and finally took us over the edge, and we would do it to him with delight and without regret, for it was only Snivellus offending the Marauders.

"You always thought you were a star, Black. The most clever, always knowing better, always so sure in your arrogance, always convinced that nothing could happen to you. And then you go out, because you simply have to rescue your blasted godson and then pfft... you bite the dust in the most embarrassing way. And you leave everybody teary eyed, throwing the blame on each other, except yours. You want to know why I did it? I could name you lots of reasons, but perhaps the most suitable one would be simply so I could have the opportunity to tell you that your death was only your own fault."

And that was it.

I let my wand drop and my jaw as well.

So he cast one of the most difficult spells, lost almost all his magic and for what? To get the chance to tell me: I told you so?

How typical!

Snape kept looking at me, mentally kicking my ass - the facial expression of Snivellus knowing what was coming next and being ready to take it with his head held high. But tonight I had a surprise for him. And if it didn't pull his socks out of his shoes, then my name was not Sirius Black.

I put my wand in the waist of my pyjama bottoms, stepped towards him, grabbed the fabric of his robes and pulled him closer in one swift movement. His body stiffened, as if I would give him a blow. He made an attempt to wriggle himself out of my grip, but I didn't let him go.

His ear, covered with some strands of greasy hair, was close to my mouth: "Snape," I whispered, "you are the greatest idiot I had ever the honour to meet. Getting yourself into a state short of a Squib is the proof that your brain is the size of a toad's. But I'm forgiving you and - say what you want - I'll owe you for the rest of my miserable life."

"You don't owe me anything," he hissed, "I give up any ..."

"Fuck your noble intentions, Snape! Now tell me the other reason why you did it."

His body stiffened even more and I became aware again that we weren't alone. I bet that there were even several extendable ears hanging down from the next floor.

"Leave us alone," I said. After a moment I heard their reluctant steps and the sound of the doors being closed. I looked up and saw the extendable ears being pulled up. And then the kids were leaving as well.

"Now tell me, Snape."

"You have it wrong," he said, "It is me who owes you. Not otherwise."

I frowned and let go of him: "I don't understand."

Snape made an impatient gesture: "Three years ago, in the Shrieking Shack.... when I didn't believe you..."

Finally it dawned on me. I swear that I almost sat down on the carpet.

"You thought that I was a Death Eater, right?"

"Yes."

I laughed out in disbelief: "But the only thing you needed to do was to look at my forearm."

"In those days the Dark Lord still wasn't back, therefore the Mark was invisible. Besides, I only thought what everyone believed."

Yeah, that was right. It explained at least something.

Suddenly I felt tired. And looking at Snape's dark rings under his eyes, he appeared tired as well.

The rest of the questions could be answered tomorrow as well.

"How did you get here?"

"I flooed."

Flooed! When Albus heard of it, he would have kittens. But obviously Snape was facing Albus' upcoming tantrum rather fatalistically.

I grabbed his arm: "It's too late. You will stay here and sleep with me."

Snape's eyes grew wide.

"Don't look at me like that, ok? All the beds in this house are occupied and the sofas are too fragile. They will break under you and then Albus will have my head."

I drew him into my bedroom. He was too tired and shocked to even start to protest. I closed the door behind us.

"Don't worry. The bed is big enough and I've been free of fleas for months."

Finally Snape chuckled. But only slightly. Still he looked like a shy animal, being caught in an unfamiliar environment, ready to run away at the next possible opportunity.

To confirm my words, I pulled out my second pair of pyjamas from the drawer and handed them to him. Snape took them hesitantly but the toothbrush I transfigured for him from a Muggle pen convinced him at last. It was a nice toothbrush, green with a snake carved into the end of the handle.

Wordlessly he shoved his book into my arms and vanished behind the door to my bathroom. After some awkward sounds I finally heard the water hitting the bottom of the shower stall.

I crawled into my bed and forbade myself any further thoughts.

A short time later Snape emerged , wearing the washed out pj's, his hair heavy and wet falling onto his shoulders. Awkwardly he lay down, turned onto his stomach and now for a change he was clutching the pillow. His black eyes looked up at me.

"Nox", I said to my wand. "Good night."

"G'night," Snape murmured back.

Before I fell asleep, I felt vaguely that a hand drew around mine.

But I wasn't so sure.