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Sirius growled quietly, untangling himself from the white blankets. The walls of the room seemed to look at him with pity, and compared to the dark walls full of cruel paintings in Grimmauld Place, that should have been a relief to him, to be seen as an object of compassion, but he couldn't stand kindness.
He did not, after all, know how to live in peaceful tenderness. Every form of affection from him had a hint of malice in it, and even with the most delicate people, Sirius found himself loving in a mean way. It wasn't purposeful, and he tried, perhaps, to hold back, to hold himself inside, to hug his own arms, to scratch his own shoulders, but it was futile, because Sirius was made of half cruelty, a whole part of him soaked in dirty blood. It was something of himself alone, perhaps. A natural imbalance of Sirius Black.
He had survived the war, somehow. He had been returned back from the world of the dead. Not even an eternity on the other side was guaranteed to him. Instead, Sirius was finally all by himself, without any living friends, and with a godson who was extremely worried about him. Sweet Harry, so much like Prongs. Unable to leave someone alone, unable to watch someone suffer without doing anything about it.
That was why he was there, sharing a room with Snivellus. The man had lost his voice after being attacked by Nagini, and slept most of the time. He didn't really seem annoyed when he found out that Harry Potter had personally asked the hospital to put them in the same room, which honestly surprised Sirius. Snivellus had never liked him, and the feeling, perhaps, was always reciprocated. Sirius certainly felt many things about him.
Snivellus seemed to have adopted some sort of new philosophy with the end of the war, because he didn't seem to care about many things anymore, and he ignored Sirius and his taunts most of the time, which was no fun. His arms were clean, and his bare, pale skin glowed to anyone who entered their room. It was as if he finally had something good to show for it. Harry smiled the first time he saw him showing off his arm without that mark. Sirius couldn't even make fun of him, so genuine was Snivellus' relief.
That, perhaps, was why Sirius had approached him that day, tired of the monotonous life in the hospital, and made a proposal.
"Would you like to— huh, I mean, I don't know if you already have a place to go after all—" Sirius gestured, strangely nervous. Snivellus was watching him with two large dark pupil eyes, like a puppy. Sirius swallowed dryly and looked away "Would you like to live with me?"
Sirius waited for the answer, and was strangely annoyed when it didn't come, because Snivellus must think he was so much better than him, okay, a war hero, ah, yes, but then he saw the sheets on his bed moving and remembered, sure, Merlin, Snivellus can't talk. Sirius lifted his head, finding Snivellus leaning forward, as if trying to reach Sirius. When he realised he had his attention, however, Snivellus stopped and gave Sirius what could only be a smile.
He nodded, said, sure, yeah, I can move in with you, or Sirius thought so.
Snivellus didn't do much. In fact, he did nothing but read and play with potions. The house was too big for the two of them, and even though Harry was always visiting, sometimes even bringing Ginny, everything was still too quiet. It made Sirius nervous. He was always used to too much noise, and being in that silence almost made him wish he hadn't burned his mother's painting. But after he had yelled, and after he had fought with Snivellus — or at least done something like that, because he didn't say anything back, couldn't say anything back, and just stared at Sirius with frowning eyebrows — after he had exhausted himself, searching the walls for ghostly echoes, and wished, after all, that death had liked him even if only for two days, Sirius had realized that it wasn't that bad.
It wasn't terrible. He was getting used to it. Sirius spent his mornings in the drawing room, reading with Snivellus. They would sit on opposite sofas, drinking tea and eating biscuits. Neither of them woke up early enough to eat breakfast, and the elf Harry insisted they have wouldn't let them have a messy routine, which meant they couldn’t eat at odd hours. Something like going back to living normally, even though neither of them had ever had a normal day in their lives.
And so by the afternoons they were separated, only because Snivellus had potions to make. Sirius was a free man, but he didn't see himself going out much. He tinkered with the new bike he'd bought, listened to music on the local radio, and then entertained himself with the computer Harry had given them both as a gift, even though it didn't have that many fun things going on. He had no hobbies that didn't remind him of a past life, before he was arrested, and none of them honestly brought him any kind of contentment. And Snivellus, though strangely docile now, wouldn't allow him into the potions room when he was working.
But they dined together, and despite the rather flawed communication between them, Sirius was strangely attached to the figure of Snivellus sitting across the table, his feet close to his, eating quietly. He had cut his hair to suit modern times a little better, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to change his. It looked nice, though. Snivellus' new cut.
Sirius would say things like ah, I like your hair, and Snivellus would look at him as if to say, oh, really? and Sirius would reply even without hearing the question, yes, yes, I think it suits you, and Snivellus would smile minimally, but Sirius thought he might say something like it's not as greasy as it used to be now, huh? and he would automatically feel guilty, but Snivellus never said anything, and Sirius didn't apologize either.
Snivellus was smiling in that small way at the book. Sirius caught himself slightly surprised.
"What are you reading?" he muttered, confused and curious. Snivellus lifted his gaze, and then showed the cover of the book. It was Dracula. "What's fun about this book?"
Homoeroticism, Snivellus mouthed, something he had recently started doing. It was a game between them. Sirius was learning to read lips. He was almost professional now, but Snivellus had a beautiful mouth, and he spoke slowly. Sirius frowned, and said back without speaking, homoeroticism? I don't remember that, and Snivellus laughed softly, turning to the book.
That night, Sirius put Bram Stoker on the bedside table. He needed, after all, to find out what was amusing about those yellowed pages, but he fell asleep as soon as Harker arrived at the castle. The next day, he moved to the sofa, sitting on the one in front of the fireplace, watching Snivellus silently amuse himself by reading. Suddenly it didn't matter what codes Sirius didn't recognise, he didn't even need to read to notice the erotic beauty in vampires. Snivellus would tell him what to laugh at, and that was suddenly enough.
They could have used some kind of spell, something to give Snivellus a voice, but he didn't want to. He said for Sirius to read his lips hey, listen, I'm satisfied like this, really, I don't want to talk anymore, they don't need my voice. Sirius disagreed, but he knew that the voice he wanted to hear would never come back, and anyway, he had no reason to make Snivellus talk again. What did it matter? He could read lips now. It was his new special skill, his new hobby. Not even Harry knew how to do that.
Sirius shed his human form, using his four paws to run around the house. He was bored, and Snivellus was locked inside the potions room. The laboratory. Sirius threw himself against the door, and huffed audibly when it didn't even clatter against the walls. He lowered his snout, to sniff through the gap, but the smells were messy, too many ingredients. He lay there, waiting, waiting, waiting.
And then Snivellus opened the door, a few hours later. Sirius had dozed off twice, and chased two cockroaches, and then nibbled the shin of the elf, who offered him tea, just for fun, but the poor creature ran as if he were going to devour it, but Padfoot was kind!
Padfoot, he saw Snivellus say, soundlessly, syllabically. Sirius smiled, rising to his feet, happy, radiant. He couldn't even say exactly why. Padfoot, did you eat something? Snivellus said, and Sirius denied it, not remembering having eaten anything after lunch. Then Snivellus smiled that little smile, awkward, kind of strained, but a smile, and said, alright, I'll make something for dinner.
Sirius walked him to the kitchen, and lay on his feet while Snivellus cooked, moving just to keep up with him, and suddenly he realized ah, why Snivellus. He doesn't cry anymore. He hasn't cried in twenty years. Maybe less, maybe ten. He turned human, and stood at Severus' feet, and almost barked when his firm hands touched Sirius' head in a caress definitely made for Padfoot.
"Your name is Severus." Sirius said, and Severus stared at him, with infinite, strange kindness, and nodded.
Severus, he repeated, soundless as ever, and stewed again. Yes, yes, Severus Snape.
"Careful with— ah, I forgot about that, yeah, yeah I know—" Sirius muttered, staring at the ceiling, and yet he knew Severus had said something like my hands are more stable than yours, I make potions, the youngest master on this continent, and Sirius sighed, touching his arms "I'm not used to that."
Nonsense, Severus would have said, or said, and either way Sirius replied.
"No, you don't understand. No one has ever done that for me. I've been threatened many times, but no one has ever—oh, this place is a bit tricky, maybe if I move—that, like this, better, anyway, no one has ever shaved my beard for me. A blade near my neck is a little dangerous, and you— oh, yeah, you wouldn't kill me, I know, not anymore, but I can— thanks, Severus, it's looking great, maybe a little more here? Anyway, I can still feel scared, can't I?"
I think so, Severus said, this time Sirius was sure, because they were face to face, or the closest to it, because Severus was a short man. I think being afraid of your mortal enemy holding a blade against your neck is justifiable, he continued.
"My mortal enemy is dead. Voldemort." Severus cringed, but said nothing, nor did he look at Sirius "You're sort of my best friend now."
You need more friends, Severus said, but he smiled that way, and Sirius found himself turning his face away, awkwardly.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Are you done?"
Sirius was surprised when he felt Severus' feet under his thigh. He looked away, leaving the book on his lap, and noticed Severus with his face tucked into a copy of a Doyle book. They shared the same couch now. Sirius touched his calf, and Severus put the book down as well, staring at him curiously. Sirius smiled.
Severus craned his head and returned the smile, then went back to reading. Harry found them like this, and stared at Sirius with frowning eyebrows for the rest of the visit.
Severus hurried him with his hands, saying, come here, come here quickly, and Sirius hurried on, even though he didn't know what he would see. In the window, small clay miniatures were playing. Sirius frowned, crouching down beside Severus, who had recently started messing around with clay and making sculptures, but only because Sirius had no hobbies, and according to Harry, it was good they had something to do together.
The sculptures were strangely familiar, but a little too misshapen for Sirius to unravel on his own. He turned to Severus, who eyed and pointed, look here, this one is me, and this one is you, and these here are Harry and Teddy, and this one is Padfoot, but Sirius honestly stopped lip reading after the this one is me and this one is you, because they were standing there together, and Sirius felt his eyes water.
That was the ugliest and yet most adorable thing anyone had ever done for him.
"Sev, Sev, look, I did it-" Sirius showed the snake shaped ashtray. It was green "And you said I had no talent!"
The snake was weird, a bit uneven in certain parts, but it was a snake, definitely. Severus accepted it with open hands, looked at it for a bit and then raised his gaze to Sirius, said, well, I never said you had no talent. Not ever. Just that you didn't have the patience. Sirius rolled his eyes.
"It's for you." he lifted his chin, as if that was something small and not the least bit important. As if it hadn't taken him a week to do that.
Severus chuckled lowly at that, and Sirius found himself staring at him with a smile. Severus approached with the snake in hand and brought his index finger to Sirius's throat, the part of his skin that was exposed.
Darling, thank you, he wrote, very slowly, and Sirius shivered.
Sirius sat at Severus' feet, early in the morning, but not early enough for them to have breakfast. He turned, until he was on his knees in front of him, laid his head on one of Severus's knees, thought, Merlin, I'm an idiot, but then Severus moved the book and saw Sirius standing there, and blushed a little, but smiled, and Sirius thought no, no, no. I'm not an idiot. I am lucky.
Severus asked then? Why are you on the floor? There's a whole couch for you.
"No, I want to stay here. May I?"
Why? Huh?
"I just do. Do you have a problem with that?" Sirius defended himself, frowning. Severus returned him a bored look, but then shrugged, returning to reading.
Sirius pulled out from under the couch a box. From inside it he pulled out a brand new, expensive shoe. A moccasin with gold painted details. He touched Severus' feet, who twitched his toes, but didn't put the book down again, didn't pay attention to it. Sirius smiled, massaging his feet firmly but gently, and slowly placed his shoes on his foot, then lifted his head, seeing that at one point, Severus began to pay attention to him.
Cheeks reddening, he asked what is that?
Sirius smiled, "I bought it for you."
Severus looked down at his own feet, and then looked at Sirius and blushed some more, hiding behind the book. Sirius smiled, and was pleased even with that reaction, but from behind the book came a weird sound, a slightly painful but sincere throat scratching.
"Thank you."
Severus approached slowly, and opened his mouth, but then closed it, saying nothing. Sirius was drinking wine, watching the fireplace. They stood side by side for a long time, until Severus held his arm like he was finally going to speak, but he kept quiet, kept seeming to rethink what he was going to do, time and time again.
Sirius sighed, lowered his head a little and kissed him as if that was natural and he was the most confident person in the whole world. Severus gasped in surprise, but smiled, pleased. He was shaking gently, and Sirius, too, was holding on to the wall, afraid to fall. Severus said against his mouth, and Sirius almost didn't understand him, distracted, ah, you're more perceptive than I imagined, and Sirius said against his, also without making any sound, yes I am, when it comes to you, I'm everything.
Those sounds Severus made when Sirius pounced on him were truly beautiful. They were a little scratchy, like the surprised meowing of a bitter cat, but they were kind, repeatedly, in Sirius's ear, and he purposely ducked down next to him so he could hear that. They fucked so often that someone might say, perhaps, that Sirius was addicted. And he was.
Darling, Severus would gasp against Sirius' ear, several times, darling, darling, darling, darling, that, that, more, more.
"Fuck, you're mine." Sirus would say, and that would be enough for Severus to say more more more more more until he finally died a little bit with him.
One of these days, when Severus had learned how to definitely use a cell phone, he opened Sirius's number and typed in a single message.
I love you.
Sirius tensed a bit sitting at his feet, but then relaxed, and Severus didn't dare look down, didn't dare see his reaction.
The cell phone in his hand shook, a new message from Sirius.
I love you too, darling.