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When they meet after classes, Severus says (if he even says anything), "Hello," and Sirius replies (almost always), "I missed you," before kissing him. When they have to part, Severus says, "Goodbye," and Sirius responds, "See you, love," disappearing before Severus can register the words and attempt to answer.
For Sirius it's all so easy. "Love you", "miss you". No more than interjection between interlocked words.
For Severus it's incomprehensible. Isn’t love something sacred, barely existing outloud? Isn't love something to fight for, even for a droplet of it? Isn't love something to long for and never touch, because it’s always out of reach? Something that happens to others and not to people like him? The most he is allowed to feel is hope, the most he gets is a fleeting taste of kindness, at least it was like that before-
"Love you, love you, love you," Sirius repeats and laughs, keeping him in his arms and kissing his hair, his face, everything that Severus isn't fast enough to hide, like a dog that hasn’t seen its owner for an awful and devastating period of the whole work day.
Severus repeats, repeats and repeats: "Stop, get lost, go away". He can’t make it sound angry enough. He turns away, turns around, mumbles something in half-irritation, fights with barely half of his strength, slaps Sirius’ arms and hides his face under curtains of hair, because he can't allow Sirius to see that smile his lips are treacherously turning into.
He fights Sirius, he fights himself, but there is nothing more he wants than to cling to Sirius, to make a hole in his body, crawl into it, sew it all back from the inside and live like this forever. He wants to keep this feeling around, because what is he supposed to do when it’s gone?
Overwhelmed, too deep in his own thoughts, he cuts into Sirius' arm with his nails, and Sirius jumps away and hisses: "Merlin, Sev!"
Severus panics, horrifying coldness covering him like water from a bucket turned upside down. For a second he is not moving and barely breathing, hearing only the quiet bubbling of the potion on the desk beside him and the rumbling fearful void in his head.
"I didn't get you weren’t in the mood," Sirius sighs, looking at his scratched arm. Tired, but not angry. It's not particularly an apology, but Severus doesn't need one. He wants that warm feeling back, but Sirius' playful demeanor disappears as if it has never existed and he doesn't dare to ask for it to be back.
He doesn’t dare, but he feels words stuck in his throat in a painful lump that cannot be untangled and pulled out of his mouth.
“Sev, watch out!” Sirius exclaims and jumps forward to drag him a couple of steps away from the boiling cauldron, which spits out its contents on the neighbouring desk instead of Severus’ face.
“What’s with you today?” Sirius sighs again.
“Nothing,” Severus answers promptly, any desire of closeness disappearing in an instant. Nothing kills any tender feelings for him faster than attempts to crawl under his skin. He removes Sirius' arms to wave his wand and remove the potion from the desk.
He knows that it’s one of these days when he is being difficult. He knows that Sirius hates it. He hates himself for it too, but irritation starts boiling in his body no less than in the cauldron. In these moments he thinks that all of it it stupid.
Sometimes he sees other couples on their evening strolls and Hogsmeade dates and thinks to himself: “What am I even doing?” He sees Potter circling Lily and them both shining with joy like the only things that exist in the world are laughter and happiness. And he knows that Sirius looks at them too, but he is afraid to even glance in that direction, because he is sure: he won’t survive the guilt if he sees longing in Sirius’ eyes. Longing for something he can’t give.
“Seeeev,” Sirius drags the sound with annoying concern, and Severus ignores it pointedly. The void in his head now swirling, buzzing and not shutting up.
“Alright then,” Sirius says, not getting any answer, and finally lifts his schoolbag from the ground and goes to the door.
“Bloody hell, you know that I did nothing,” he mutters through his teeth loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to inform he doesn’t want an answer and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. He leaves Severus to stay and look at the boiling potion, one second away from shooting at him again.
Severus lowers the fire, better not risk it.
Sirius is right. He knows. He also knows that Sirius doesn’t deserve any of it. But it makes him even more angry, because Sirius is one of the last people he wants to feel guilty about.
Yes, Sirius did as much as he could to get the forgiveness Severus didn't want to give and couldn't imagine himself giving. Someone else would've stopped trying right after the first loud and clear "you disgust me". Most are humbled enough to get such an answer to the confession of feelings and interest and leave to save at least some crumbles of dignity (Severus doesn’t know it by practice, but it seems logical), but not Sirius. He just looked comically dumbfounded and utterly confused. Then probably got a persistence bug from Potter and kept coming back with his stupid advances. He tried to play all the roles he could: from provocative Casanova to hopeless and helpless Romeo, but nothing worked on Severus, because, as much as he was concerned, you can't add colorant to toxic waste and suddenly change its essence.
Sirius had to make amends, and, apparently, he wasn't stupid and wasn't lazy and had much more ability to focus on his goals than Severus expected. And it worked. Telling Potter to shut up here, helping with a potion work there, learning what an actually thoughtful gift is and just always finding time to be around… Slowly, but surely it all worked. The feelings crawled into Severus’ heart unnoticed and quiet and then it was already too late when they started to burn him from the inside.
And here they are now. Whatever they are. Sirius says they are in love. Severus thinks that the word, as much as desired, is also too loud, heavy and scary. It surely can’t be that.
He sighs. Maybe it wouldn't be so scary if it was anyone but Sirius Black. Sometimes he still occasionally expects it all to be a long elaborate prank. Every time he hears Marauders' laughter, he gets even more tense than before, because if they pull this trigger, he will lose much more than any of them ever could in the den of vipers he lives in. He loves Slytherin, he would never feel in his right place anywhere else, no matter how much Lily said and now Sirius says that it would be better to have him in Gryffindor, because “he is not like all the other snakes”. But he knows that he is not particularly the best specimen of the House with his poor upbringing and understands that falling into embrace of, as they all see Sirius, a blood traitor, isn’t a good look either.
And if it’s all a prank, if it's all just another way Marauders see him as nothing but a toy to play with, he has nothing but hope that they will at least wait until the end of the year. Being fed to a werewolf would be less excruciating.
These fearful thoughts swirl in his head, and the worst thing he finds himself doing is regretting them. They annoyingly feel like a betrayal of what they have with Sirius. They sting. Sometimes Severus wants to talk to him about it, since he has no one else as close anyway anymore, but there is no reaction he can imagine as one he can survive unscathed.
He waves his wand, and the fire disappears from under the cauldron. It's all done. He can leave this place and make himself busy with something less allowing for such a free flight of thought. He just needs to pack and clean it all up, and then somehow give some of the bottles to Sirius too, since he somehow actually helped until they had their argument.
And Severus does clean and pack up. Meticulously, slowly, in a familiar step by step process, almost mechanical, but meditative. It calms him down, soothes the buzz in the head, but it can't remove this cold stingy feeling inside.
He leaves the classroom, thinking he'll find Sirius tomorrow, but he is not as far as Severus expected. Sits on the ledge in the niche and pouts, his leg beating the fast-paced rhythm of anxiety.
"I thought you left," Severus says, but Sirius keeps his mouth shut and doesn't even look at him. Who knew that it could hurt. Several months ago it would be a dream come true event.
Severus gets a bottle with the potion from his bag and tries to give it to him. Stupidly attempts to trick him into communication by bribery of his own creation.
"Your deserved part," he says, but Sirius continues his moody act.
Severus feels even more guilty. And kind of awkward standing there and reaching out with his hand into nothingness.
"Take it," he says uselessly.
Sirius doesn’t move still, so Severus puts his hand down. He can guess what he needs to do. He doesn’t really want to or used to. Still, he, apparently, has to.
"I-" he stumbles with his words, but Sirius side-eyes him, so the track feels more right. "I'm-"
Sirius tilts his head to the side as if to hear better.
"I'm sorry," Severus almost whispers. He wasn't good at apologizing even with Lily. It's even harder with Sirius.
"Oh, really?" Sirius asks with not much hope in his voice, finally granting Severus his noble attention.
It's irritating to apologize, and Sirius knows no better than to drag it. Severus hates it, but he can't deny that he is the one this behaviour is learned from.
"I didn't want to get angry at you," he confesses quietly. "But it just happened. I can't explain it."
"I think you can," Sirius parries sharply, and Severus knows that he is right, but his fingers tighten on his bag's handle.
"I can't," Severus shakes his head, and his hair falls over his face like a curtain. If he knows the words it doesn't mean he can say them.
They are both silent for a while. Severus feels piercing gray eyes looking for answers in his figure and feels even more scrawny, gangling and gauche than usual. He expects Sirius to give up, get up and go away, but he just sighs.
"Alright, I will talk to them and let it be whatever it’ll be," he says, and Severus needs a minute to figure out what it means. To… them?
“At least you’ll know they won’t touch you anymore. You’ll have to make your dorm bed bigger in case I’ll be thrown out of mine for that, though,” Sirius jokes without a smile on his face, and Severus looks at him, still not fully getting it.
“Are you serious right now?”
“I’m always Sirius,” he answers without skipping a bit and continues before Severus comments. “It's just not getting better, you know. I’m not stupid, I see how you react to… Things.”
When did Sirius become so perceptive?
“What if they tell someone?” Severus asks, suddenly full of growing anxiety. Maybe they’ll both lose their peace in dorms with such development. Can they live in corridors then?
“They won’t, I’ll make sure of it,” Sirius answers without hesitation and gets up with a slight jump. He suddenly looks energized by his own decision. That is the thing Severus learned about him a long time ago and only saw more often when they got close: Sirius Black can’t just sit and do nothing, waiting for a problem to solve itself. He needs to be active and do things, even if the steps are all wrong.
“How can you be so sure?” Severus asks.
“Sev, can you trust me at least once?” Sirius answers with exhaustion. “I know my friends. They may not agree with my decision, but they won’t hurt me like that.”
“But they will hurt me,” Severus says, and Sirius looks at him with a frown.
“And it will hurt me too. And I’ll explain it to them. Just… Let me handle it, alright? Then it’ll be okay,” he says not so surely.
They are standing in the dungeon corridor late in the evening too close to the curfew and out in the open enough to be worried that someone will notice and question and awkwardly trying to untie the knots of the affair they put themselves into, when it suddenly dawns on Severus that Sirius isn’t really used to it all too.
He is much more experienced and sure of himself, acts arrogant and haughty but feelings scare him no less. As much as he is convinced by his current idea, he is scared to act on it and he is horrified of making everything worse.
“I want us to be alright! It's bloody annoying that every time it finally seems normal, you make a full one eighty and I have to start again,” Sirius blows up, talking louder than he should and one second away from start going in circles to blow off some steam, so Severus almost jumps to him and quickly covers his mouth with his hand.
“I’m sorry,” Severus repeats, and this time it comes out on its own. Still, he hesitates before lowering his hand, putting both of his arms around and pressing his face into Sirius’ shoulder. He feels Sirius’ body heat and almost hears his heart racing, and he is not sure what to do with all of it, but stays in place.
“What’s that?” Sirius asks surprised, unused to warm gestures not being his initiatives, but still hugs Severus in return as if it’s the only reaction to have.
“Don’t do what you’ll regret,” Severus answers.
“I will regret not doing,” Sirius says, breathing out in Severus’ hair.
What even to answer here? Apparently, you will regret something no matter what you choose. But for now Severus is in Sirius’ arms again and he wants this now to be longer.
He wants tomorrow to never come, because he knows that no matter what he will regret it too.
“I love you,” he barely whispers, feeling his face gradually going up in flames. He is not sure if his heart skips a beat or Sirius’ one, but he feels Sirius’ arms holding him tighter than ever.
He hopes this one thing he won’t regret.