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If I cut off your arms and cut off your legs, would you still love me anyway?
That blasted muggle song again.
Black hummed it every time he was near, low enough for no one to question. Severus was certain it was on purpose, with the way Black's eyes would shine with a strange sense of mirth every time he dared even glance in his direction. His behavior lately had shifted into something that gave Severus a pang of unease.
He wasn't sure what it was, he could admit privately. But something just felt off... Different. And Severus didn't like it one bit. At this point he wanted the Sirius Black who despised him. He would rather take the typical 'boys will be boys' nonsense than whatever this is.
He wasn't sure when it started. Perhaps he didn't notice it right away. But one day, the realization came. Every time he glanced at Black, even by accident... He was already looking at him.
Perhaps whatever this was had always been there, just hidden beneath the usual bullying. Something in Black's gaze had changed. The mischief and arrogance were still there, but now it held... more. Something subtle and cold. Something that made Severus want to hide away.
It reminded him of danger, of his father's cruel eyes. Always quietly dangerous. But Black wasn't Tobias. No... He had no reason to be on alert around him more than he already was. Sirius Black was just another teenage bully. There was nothing more to be seen. And yet... For weeks now, Severus's chest tightened every time their eyes met, though he tried to keep his expression neutral.
That fucking smile. Why was Black smiling?
An unpleasant shiver went down his spine that he masked with his usual indifference. He adjusted his robes and ran a hand through his hair. Control. That was his shield, and he clung to it. But the tiny prickle of uncertainty coiled in his stomach like a serpent. He steeled himself anyway, as best as he was able to, and he prepared for class. Calm and composed. He could do this. It was fine. He settled back into his comfortable routine of walking alone to class.
The corridors were loud between each class, crowded enough that even the Slytherins thinned into the general press. Voices overlapped, the usual chaos of bodies and noise that made it easy—easier—to go unnoticed. Severus kept his gaze forward, expression schooled into a blank mask. Ink-stained fingers curled a little tighter around his books as he moved along the wall, letting a group of younger students pass.
He heard them before he saw them, as always.
Potter's voice, too loud, cut cleanly through the air, followed by Lupin's quieter reply and Pettigrew's eager agreement. And then Black, somewhere among them, not yet speaking. Severus felt it, that familiar prickle of irritation settling into place.
There it was, the predictability. Tiresome, but... safe. He almost exhaled. They came into view around the corner, all careless movement and unearned admiration from others. Potter spotted him first, of course. His grin sharpened immediately.
"Well, well, if it isn't Snivellus," he called, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. "Slithering off to your dungeon?"
A few students snickered. Pettigrew laughed outright. Severus didn't break stride.
"Careful," Potter went on, falling into step just long enough to crowd his space, "wouldn't want you to trip over that nose of yours."
There it was. The same tired insults, almost rehearsed in their familiarity.
Severus kept his eyes ahead. "How original," he muttered, voice low, not quite rising to the bait.
Potter huffed something that might have been a laugh, already losing interest. And Black... He said nothing. Severus registered it dimly at first, filing it away as insignificant. Black didn't always bother to speak. Sometimes he just watched, amused, while Potter carried the performance.
Yes. That was all it was. The usual performance.
The group moved past him, laughter trailing behind them as they continued down the corridor, just like always. Severus slowed, just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing by degrees he refused to acknowledge. His grip loosened on his books... He felt ridiculous.
Whatever he thought he'd noticed before—the staring, the song, that... strange, quiet intensity... it had been nothing, surely. A trick of perception. An overextension of thought where none was needed. Black was Black. Loud, arrogant, and cruel in the most mundane, expected ways. There was nothing else to it. Severus turned the corner, already dismissing it, already letting the tight coil in his chest begin to unwind—and stopped. Just enough for something in him to hesitate. Instinct, perhaps. Or habit born from years of enduring harassment. He glanced back.
He shouldn't have.
Black had stopped several paces down the corridor, just at the edge of the crowd. Potter was still talking, Lupin half-listening, Pettigrew trailing along—but Black wasn't looking at them.
He was looking at him.
Not openly. Not in a way anyone else would notice. His head was turned just enough, his expression composed into something neutral. But his eyes... Fixed. Steady. Unmoving.
As if he had been waiting.
The noise of the corridor seemed to dull, flattening into something distant and indistinct. For a second too long, neither of them moved. Then Black turned away, rejoining the others as though nothing had happened, his attention slipping back elsewhere. Severus remained where he was, pulse stuttering once, hard, before settling into something harder to manage.
The fragile sense of relief he hadn't meant to feel collapsed in on itself. Ridiculous. Yes, he had to have been ridiculous to grant Black any genuine meaning. It meant nothing. It had to mean nothing. And yet... His heart didn't seem to quite agree. Severus forced himself to move.
Standing there any longer would have been absurd—there was nothing to justify it, nothing to explain the sudden tension still coiled tight in his chest. So he adjusted his grip on his books and continued on. Routine was what he needed. It had never failed him before.
Classes passed as they always did, with the dull drone of other students filling the spaces in between his note-taking. He answered when required, kept his head down when not, and ignored the occasional glance in his direction. Black did nothing. Said nothing.
It was enough.
By the time the final class ended, the earlier unease had dulled into something manageable. Foolish, even. Severus told himself so as he gathered his things. He knew where to go. The library was quiet at this hour, the late afternoon light still warming his usual solitary table. Most students had already left; only a few remained scattered between the tables, heads bent, quills scratching softly against parchment.
Order. Silence. Predictability.
Severus exhaled, slowly, as he took his usual seat. He set his books down with care, aligning them neatly before opening the first.
He was fine.
Minutes passed, perhaps longer. The tension in his shoulders eased, unwinding as he settled fully into the work. Words formed cleanly on the page as he wrote, his focus sharpening with each line. Whatever nonsense had taken hold of him earlier—
His quill stilled. Not by choice. The motion simply... stopped. A faint crease formed between his brows as he stared at the half-finished word beneath the tip. Ink gathered there, threatening to blot.
Something was wrong.
He didn't know what it was immediately. Only that something had shifted, insistent, pressing at the edges of his awareness. A feeling, most unwelcome, yet familiar. Severus became aware, all at once, of how still the air felt. Of the quiet—no longer comforting. Of the faint, distant sound of pages turning somewhere behind him. And beneath... That same prickle. Slowly, before he could think better of it, he lifted his head. It took him a moment to find him. A few tables over. Not close and not far.
Black sat alone.
No books open before him. No parchment. Nothing to suggest he had any reason to be there at all. He was simply... sitting. And looking at him.
Severus went very still.
For a second, he considered the possibility that he was mistaken. That Black's gaze had passed over him, that this was nothing more than coincidence stretched by imagination. But... no. There was no uncertainty in it. Black was watching him. Not with the amusement he wore around others. Not with open mockery or challenge. There was no audience to play to. Just that same quiet focus... and that smile.
It wasn't wrong. Not exactly. There was nothing overtly unsettling in it, no sneer, no sharpness. If anything, it was... mild. Almost absentminded. But it didn't shift. Didn't falter nor change when Severus met his gaze... As if it had been there long before he'd looked up. Something cold slid down Severus's spine.
This was nothing. It had to be nothing.
Black studied here sometimes. Rarely, but not never. There was no rule against sitting in silence. No rule against letting one's gaze wander. And yet, Severus's grip tightened around the quill. A small blot of ink spread across the parchment, bleeding into the page. He was unsure why he didn't look away. Perhaps doing so would feel like allowing... whatever this is. Or perhaps because... if he looked away, he would still know. That Black was there, watching.
The seconds stretched. At the far end of the library, Madam Pince moved between the shelves, the faint rustle of books barely audible. A presence meant to be authority... It meant nothing. She would not look this way. There was nothing to see... Nothing happening at all.
Severus forced his gaze downward at last, back to the page before him. The careful structure of his notes blurred. He tried to continue—tried to write, to focus. His hand did not move. He felt it, even without looking. That same unbroken attention. Severus swallowed, the motion small, and dipped his quill back into the ink with deliberate precision. He only needed to return to routine.
The faint tremor in his fingers betrayed him... He did not look up again.
He continued working until the light through the windows had changed just enough to signal the passage of time. Only then did he close his book, gather his things, and stand. He did not hurry... That would have been noticeable. Instead, he moved with deliberate calm through the corridors. He kept his expression neutral. The Slytherin common room was not crowded when he arrived. A cluster of older students lingered nearby, speaking in low tones. Severus paused only long enough to assess them before stepping closer.
"Snape," one of them said without looking up, acknowledging him more out of habit than interest.
Severus gave a faint sound in return and sat a short distance away. Not with them. Not apart from them either. Simply... within range. A book opened in his hands almost immediately. No one questioned it. That was the advantage of indifference. It required no explanation.
Voices continued around him, dull and familiar. Something about potions homework. Something about a Quidditch match. Severus did not contribute. He did not need to. It was better this way. Crowded space meant less attention. Less isolation. Fewer chances for-
He did not finish the thought.
"Oi," Evan Rosier muttered nearby, glancing at him over his shoulder. "Since when do you sit with people?"
Severus did not look up from his book.
"Since you started talking," he replied flatly.
Laughter answered him, and he turned away again. Severus continued reading. He told himself it was working. The noise around him was steady, grounding. Familiar insults, half-finished conversations, the occasional bark of laughter. It filled the space. His eyes moved over the page, but the words were not entirely absorbed. He was aware, instead, of distance... Exits. Movement at the edge of his vision. Whatever may be lurking outside. He turned a page too quickly.
"Planning to read that thing into next week, Snape?" another voice said lazily from somewhere behind him.
Severus didn't bother turning. Barty sounded as if he were sprawled on the floor behind him.
"If you keep talking, I might have to," he said.
Severus returned to the page. It was fine; this was fine. And yet... Something in the air shifted. Not sound. Not movement... Attention.
Severus's grip on the book tightened before he consciously understood why. Slowly, he lowered his gaze further into the page as though nothing had changed... But he knew. A pause stretched nearby, just long enough to register as deliberate. Then a voice—lighter than the others, quieter.
"Snape."
When did Sirius Black come into the Slytherin common room? Severus did not respond, but he felt colder all of a sudden. He looked over the edge of the book... And there he was. He was standing a short distance away. His hands were loose at his sides, expression unreadable in the way it always was when he was not putting on a show.
Except this time, he was looking directly at him. Severus's pulse quickened, immediate and unwelcome. Around him, the Slytherins continued talking, unaware. Severus did not move. Black tilted his head slightly, as though considering something.
"Didn't think you liked company." Sirius's voice was strangely quiet for once.
It was not mocking... That was the problem.
"I don't. And I was unaware this common room houses Gryffindors now." Severus replies in a carefully bored tone.
Black's gaze did not leave him.
"... Came for Regulus," he finally says.
Nothing more. No follow-up. Severus felt something in his chest tighten again, sharper this time, and forced himself to look back down at the page.
"The others are talking," he said. "You're interrupting."
One of the nearby Slytherins glanced over at that, mildly curious, but said nothing. Black didn't respond immediately.
"I'll stop, then... Maybe see where Reg is."
He did not leave. The presence remained, unmoving. And Severus adjusted the angle of his chair by a fraction to place more distance between them. He did not know when he had started doing that, only that it felt necessary... But it did not feel like enough.
"Brother, if you're done harassing Snape, my room would be this way." Comes Regulus's sarcastic drawl.
He refuses to look at either Black, but he faintly notices Regulus ushering the older Black away.
"... Not sure what you're talking about, Reg. I was just looking at the little snake."
Little snake.
His shoulders stiffen as he registers what Black is humming as he walks away with Regulus.
If you're bound and you're gagged, draped and displayed... Would you still love me anyway?
A strange nausea filled him. After that Severus heard nothing else. That night he lost his appetite entirely. Thankfully, he did not see Black until the next day.
It happened in the library again. Without even realizing he was moving, Severus automatically hid in the rows of books before they could see him. He stood stiffly, deciding not to move until they leave. His hands felt a little colder, realizing he was their topic.
"Heard Snivellus admitted he's got a thing for your girl, Prongs."
Sirius said it a little too lightly. As if it were nothing more than passing information. He didn't look at any of them properly when he said it either—just leaned back where he was sitting, expression set into something casually amused.
"What?" James frowned immediately.
Peter was faster.
"Really?" He questions, eyes widening as if he'd just been given something valuable. "Snape? Merlin, that's disgusting."
"Who knows if it's true," Lupin added, but there was no real edge to it.
Only a tired discomfort, like he was watching something he didn't want to be part of but also didn't bother to stop.
"Where did you even hear that?"
Sirius finally glanced at him then, just briefly.
"Does it matter?" he questioned.
James looked unimpressed, but there was something in his face now—something hooked by the idea anyway, even if he didn't fully believe it.
"He wouldn't," he said, but it sounded less certain than it should have.
Pettigrew laughed again.
"Imagine Snivellus trying anything like that," he said. "Lily would hex him into next week."
Sirius gave a small hum of agreement, like the conversation had already moved past whether it was true or not.
"It's funny," he said mildly.
And that was all it needed to be. Not proof. Just a lie dropped neatly into place and left there. Severus remained where he was, fingers tight around the strap of his bag.
Lupin exhaled slowly.
"This is going to start something if you don't let it be," he said under his breath. "You know that, right?"
Sirius didn't look at him.
"Probably... And?"
Severus felt something settle uncomfortably low in his chest, shrinking back on instinct even though they didn't know he was there. James shifted his stance, as if deciding whether it was worth it or not.
"This better not be rubbish, Sirius," he said finally. "I'm trying to prove myself to Lily, and randomly attacking Snape won't get me points with her."
Sirius's eyes flicked toward him then, sharp for the first time.
"It's Siri," Pettigrew cut in quickly, eager. "Of course it's not rubbish."
Severus watched how Lupin didn't agree, but didn't stop it either. Watched how Pettigrew filled the silence the second it appeared. Watched how James... listened. Sirius shifted slightly, just enough that his gaze angled away from the group. Casual and uninterested. Almost... No. Not almost. His eyes passed over the book rows... Not searching. Finding.
Severus froze. It felt like the noise around them dropped away entirely. Then Sirius looked back toward James as if nothing had happened, continuing the conversation without pause. Severus's pulse was steady in a way that felt wrong.
He never harbored any sort of feeling for Lily other than platonic, and Black knew that very well... But Potter didn't. And he believed Black anyway. Lily Evans was no longer part of Severus's days in any meaningful sense. It had happened gradually enough that there had been no single moment to correct it. Only absence, repeated until it became normal. He did not seek her out. He simply stopped going where she might be. Black knew. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. In that moment, he came to a realization that left him feeling colder, his heart beating uncomfortably in his chest.
Black was their ringleader. Not Potter. He was the one they listened to. And that awoke a strange sense of fear in him, one he hadn't felt before. Because now that his intentions ran past the regular bullying... What would Black convince them to do to him? He didn't want to find out.
He had no energy left for the day. Slipping out of the library, he headed back to the Slytherin common room on unsteady legs. It was quieter than usual when he arrived. A few students were scattered across the seating area. Severus moved past them without acknowledgment.
He chose a seat near the edge of the group. A book opened in his hands almost immediately, spine cracked with practiced ease. He did not look up. Around him, conversation continued in uneven threads. Nothing requiring attention. Nothing demanding any response.
Severus allowed it to fade into background noise. Minutes passed. The pressure in his chest eased slightly as the familiar structure of Slytherin presence settled around him. Not comfort. Not companionship. Just... proximity. That was all it needed to be. A shadow shifted nearby. Severus did not react immediately. Only when the movement persisted did he glance up, eyes narrowing slightly over the edge of his book. Someone had sat down next to him.
Regulus Black.
Severus's gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary before returning to his book. He did not acknowledge him, nor did Regulus speak.
"You know," he then said at last, thoughtful, "it's getting a bit strange."
Severus did not look at him.
"If this is about your essay from yesterday's class," he said flatly, "I'm not interested in helping."
"It isn't."
Regulus watched him for a moment longer, then continued.
"My brother hasn't stopped looking at you."
Severus almost rips a page from his book before he composes himself.
"That's absurd," he murmurs.
"Is it, really?" Regulus replied.
Severus finally looked up.
Regulus's expression was composed, almost indifferent, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he had not spoken casually. It was observation. Severus closed his book.
"Black looks at everyone like that," he finally says.
"That's not what I meant, Snape."
A small silence followed. Severus felt the air around the table tighten in a way he did not immediately name. Regulus continued, quieter still.
"He doesn't look away."
That, Severus did not answer. Because the memory was already there, uninvited. That steady, unbroken attention. Regulus leaned back slightly.
"It's not normal, for him at least," he added.
Severus's knuckles grew white from the pressure of forcing his composure.
"I don't care what Black does," he replies carefully.
But it was not entirely true. And something in the way Regulus looked at him suggested he knew it. Then Regulus spoke again, tone shifting just slightly.
"He gets… like that," he said. "When he decides something."
Severus's jaw tightened.
"And what exactly," he said coldly, "did he decide?"
Regulus did not answer at first. Instead, his gaze flicked briefly past Severus's shoulder. Severus felt it before he turned. Reluctantly, he looked back over his shoulder. Across the common room, near the far edge where the light from the fire did not quite reach, Sirius Black stood half-turned away from the room. Again, even though he'd never willingly ventured here before. He was now... watching. Fixed in a way that did not belong. Severus turned back immediately. Something in his chest went cold.
"He never did like sharing his toys when we were little," Regulus chuckled softly, without any fondness.
Something in that sentence unsettled him more than any of the years of bullying and harassment ever had.
Regulus's expression shifts to something closer to familiarity. As if this were not new, but simply how things had always been. Severus felt himself growing more pale. Whatever Black was doing had settled into place like something unavoidable... He needed air. The room felt suffocating. Not looking at anything, he gets up and leaves the common room, his steps growing more urgent as soon as he's outside. He needed air. Finding himself in an empty corridor, he pants softly, facing the wall, as he tries to relax. He had assumed he escaped the weight of Sirius Black's presence.
He was wrong.
The presence behind him was sudden and suffocating, as if it had been there the entire time. Not quite touching, but still there, only a movement away from pressing into his back.
"You left a little fast there," the husky voice whispers in his ear, overly close.
Severus froze, chest tightening. He hadn't moved... he couldn't. For the first time, his legs simply... stopped working.
"Black... What... What are you doing?" He manages to get out, tone smaller than usual.
"Just... wanted to remind you Valentine's is coming up. Try not to scare us all off." Black chuckles lowly.
It should have felt like the standard mocking... It didn't.
He avoided Black like the plague after that. But no matter how much he changed his route, no matter where he was in the castle... He still felt watched.
The castle had changed overnight.
Severus noticed it immediately. It wasn't anything substantial. Just small, irritating details. Bits of charmed parchment drifting lazily through the corridors. Clusters of students gathered too closely, voices lowered into conspiratorial laughter. Red and pink everywhere.
Valentine's Day.
He should have expected it. Still, it made something in his stomach turn. Severus kept his gaze forward as he moved through the corridor, ignoring the floating decorations as best he could. He had already altered his route twice to avoid the main staircases. Avoid crowds.
Avoid him.
It hadn't helped. Nothing had these past few days. Even now, walking alone, Severus felt it lingering at the back of his mind, like something just out of sight, waiting. Focus; he needed to focus. It was just another day. A burst of laughter up ahead made him slow slightly... Potter. Of course. Severus considered turning around. But the corridor behind him had already filled, cutting off the option. He exhaled once, quietly, and continued forward.
The group came into view. Potter at the center, animated as ever. Pettigrew hovering close. Lupin was a step behind, quieter, his gaze flicking between the others. And Black… Already looking at him. Severus's hands trembled involuntarily. He dropped his gaze immediately, expression flattening into practiced indifference as he moved to pass them.
Ignore. Keep walking. Do not engage.
"Oi, Snivellus," Potter called, tone bright with anticipation. "Out enjoying the romance?"
A few nearby students laughed. Severus didn't stop.
"Shouldn’t you be off writing love letters to Evans?" Potter added, stepping slightly into his path, just enough to force acknowledgment.
Severus angled around him smoothly.
"Find a new line, Potter," he muttered coolly.
Pettigrew snorted.
"Maybe he already sent one," he said. "Probably cried over it too—"
"Leave it," Lupin cut in, quieter.
Severus almost made it past them... Almost. A hand caught his arm. Not rough. Not gentle either, but certain. Severus stiffened, breath catching painfully. Before he could react, he was pulled back. Spun... And then him. Too close. There was no time to process it. No time to move. Sirius's hand was still on his sleeve. And then he leaned in.
Sirius kissed him.
It wasn't soft, nor very forceful. Just… deliberate. His mind screamed wrong the second his lips met Black's. He froze, completely. His mind emptied, blank and stunned as something cold and nauseating twisted low in his stomach. He didn't move... he couldn't. Around them, the corridor erupted with laughter. Sharp, immediate, loud.
"Merlin—!"
"Sirius, what the—?"
"Bloody hell—"
The sound hit all at once, too much, too loud—like it was happening at a distance and directly in his ears at the same time. Sirius pulled back from him, slowly. Not hurried. Not at all embarrassed.
Severus was still staring at him. He couldn't seem to stop. Sirius's expression wasn't what it should have been. No grin. No bark of laughter. Just that same focused look. He looked satisfied. As if—
As if this had been the point.
"Happy Valentine's," Sirius said lightly.
Like he was filling in the space where something else should have been. Potter barked a laugh, stepping forward.
"Was that it?" he said, incredulous. "That's your big joke?"
There was something almost disappointed in Potter's tone. Pettigrew, however, was already laughing harder.
"Did you see his face?" he wheezed. "Snivellus looked like he’d been hexed—"
"That wasn't funny," Lupin murmured.
No one really listened.
"Come on, Pads," Potter went on, shaking his head. "You've done better than that. At least hang him upside down or something."
Sirius didn't respond. He wasn't looking at them. That gaze was still on him. The nausea in Severus's stomach twisted sharper. His lips felt… wrong. The contact lingered in a way it shouldn't. Something in his mind refused to let it settle. It replayed, out of place and invasive.
It wasn't a prank.
Something lurched in his stomach. He felt close to throwing up. Severus took a step back. No one stopped him. No one seemed to expect anything from him besides a reaction. He didn't give one. He turned and walked. Not fast, at first. Just steady steps away from the noise, from the laughter, from... him.
The corridor blurred slightly at the edges as he moved. His grip tightened around his books, knuckles whitening, breath coming thinner than it should. Behind him, the laughter continued. Then faded and disappeared entirely. Only when he turned the corner did his pace break. Faster. Sharpening. He didn't stop until the corridor was empty. Only then did he pause, one hand bracing briefly against the stone wall as something in his stomach turned violently.
He swallowed hard. His skin felt wrong. Like something had been left that he couldn't remove. Severus pressed his lips together, hard, as if that could undo it. His breathing hitched once. Then steadied, forcibly. He straightened, pushed himself upright, and kept going. Quickly, without looking back.
He will never look at Sirius Black again, if he has anything to say about it.
The days after passed wrongly.
Severus does what he has always done; he adjusts and removes himself from anything unnecessary. But this time it is sharper. Not just avoidance of conflict, but avoidance of Sirius Black. Irreversible avoidance.
And still... It doesn't work.
Because Sirius notices, every time. And at first, it irritates him. It shouldn't. It was nothing. A joke, barely worth the effort it took. If anything, it should have settled things, put Snape back into place, and reminded him what he was. But Snape leaves. Again and again. A turn taken too early. A corridor abandoned the moment Sirius appeared at the far end. Snape's stillness whenever their proximity can't be avoided. He would stand frozen like a statue at the mere sight of Sirius.
And the lack of reaction. That's what really sticks. No biting remarks. No muttered insults. No desperate attempts to claw back. It was only distance. Like he's trying to erase it. Erase him.
It festers... badly.
It was just one fucking kiss, just one. And yet the Slytherin bastard acted as if all hell had broken loose. As if the worst thing in the world was a kiss from Sirius Black.
His fists never scared him. But his kiss did?
The thought curdles into something colder each time it surfaces. Something unpleasant and poisonous. Sirius dislikes it. Dislikes what it suggests. He catches him alone once. Not by accident, of course not. Severus rounds a corner and stops short when he realizes.
Too late, little snake.
Sirius was already there, the Marauder's Map tucked away in his robes. For a second, neither of them moves. Then Severus shifts back, barely a step. But it's enough for Sirius to notice. That flicker in Snape's eyes, quick, instinctive... Fear. Something in Sirius stills. Then sharpens.
There he is. Not James, not Remus, not Peter... Him. Only him. A slow, almost thoughtful satisfaction settles under his skin, edged with something darker. The corner of his mouth lifts slightly—not enough to draw attention, not enough to be called a grin.
So, Snape does understand, on some level... Good.
He lets the moment go on a second too long, watching the way Severus holds himself rigid, contained, as if movement might provoke something worse. Sirius could push it. Step closer and test how far that fear goes. He almost does. But something in Severus's eyes—too close to bolting—stops him. Not out of mercy. Out of calculation.
Not yet.
He moves back instead, casual again, as if nothing passed between them at all. Severus doesn't speak. He just moves past him and leaves, again.
Days pass with more avoidance, and the irritation returns immediately to Sirius. Because now he knows. And Severus is still choosing to walk away. Didn't he understand what he was provoking? Didn't he understand—
Sirius's jaw tightens slightly. No. He doesn't. Or he wouldn’t keep doing that. Wouldn't keep rejecting him. The thought settles, clean and certain. He didn't understand how things stood? Fine. Sirius will make him understand.
A few days later, the opportunity presents itself. It always does. The day was warm, and the Sun was bright outside. Sirius sees him before anyone else does, outside by the lake. Severus sat alone, reading. Unsuspecting when he should have been. He's already too far from the castle, like he picked this place on purpose. Like distance matters more out here.
There's nowhere to hide.
Sirius doesn't stop walking. And then Snape looks up and sees him. And he stops. Sirius feels it immediately. That pause. Snape chooses to stay still.
Wrong choice, little snake.
Sirius doesn't smile. Just something small at the edge of his mouth. He steps closer slowly. Snape's grip tightens on his book. Too careful. Too controlled. And under it, there it is again. That quick flicker. Reflexive, at this point.
Fear.
Sirius feels something coil pleasantly in his chest.
"... There you are." He chuckles, meant for Snape's ears only.
James is already speaking, already filling the space with something loud and pointless. Peter snickers. Remus says nothing. It doesn't matter. Sirius's attention stays on Snape. He could do it again, close the distance between them. Watch him freeze like last time.
But—
No. Not this time... This needs to stick. His wand is already in his hand.
"Levicorpus."
Severus is yanked upward before he can react. The familiar rhythm snaps back into place with all the sudden laughter, but Sirius barely registers it. He pushed his desire to the side, seeing the fear in Snape's eyes escalating. The corner of his lips tugged upwards in a small smirk before he settled into a neutral expression.
"Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s trousers?" he calls, voice easy and almost bored.
Why don't you love me anyway?