Two
Part 3
By lierdumoa
Two
Part 3
By lierdumoa
Bugger. I’d told him I love him. Out loud. In English. Well, It hadn’t been my fault really. It’s hard to guard one’s words after an orgasm like that. I sat there gawping like a fish, abject panic in my expression. He opted not to respond in words, kissing me instead. No more was spoken that night. He was still there at dawn, flush with me on the bed, legs tangled in mine, chin over my shoulder, morning breath wafting over my nape, morning wood nestled between my thighs and toying with my sanity.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t the time to dally. “Sirius - wake up. I have class.” After that accomplished absolutely nothing, I finally just kicked him off of me.
“Oh. Right. Is it morning then, Sev?”
Sev. He used to call me that with his most wicked taunts, and Severus when trying to be civil. The shortened name had always been so thickly coated in sarcasm that it became nothing more than an insult, but when he’d said it the night before, it had almost sounded like an endearment. Now it came out as a whine. He rolled smoothly out of the bed and turned to look at me, and I could not tell whether the look was one of curiosity or accusation. Then he opened his mouth to speak, and I had the oddest feeling of foreboding.
“Severus, could you explain something to me?”
I merely raised a brow.
“You loathed me in school. You hated me utterly. Then you read some passage in an old book and suddenly a complete turnabout?”
I was surprised at how quickly the urge came upon me to strangle him. I managed not to respond with hostility. “A gross oversimplification, Sirius. And I never hated you.”
“Oh, come on, Sev (sarcasm, this time). You insulted me at every opportunity.”
I paused, carefully considering my words. “Perhaps. You must admit that it was you, however, who drew first blood. You, recall, don’t you Sirius? We were in Ollivander’s. You judged me as soon as you heard my name.” I paused yet again, a particularly cutting remark forming in my mind: “Of course, that’s not to say we purebloods don’t have our own prejudices. In fact, you explained mine to me quite eloquently.
He looked almost guilty. “Well, you never did anything to refute my words, did you Severus.”
“What could I possibly have done to have made you think differently of me. You had already decided who I was. I was just, what was the term? - The greasy little worm, the Slytherin bitch, not to mention adopted son of Voldemort himself.”
“Severus, you knew more curses than the seventh years and you seemed to have a personal vendetta against James and Remus and Peter, and especially me. What were we supposed to think!”
Pause.
“Odd you should ask that. Sirius, I’m going to tell you a story.
I remember my father asking me, ‘Severus, what do you think evil is?’
‘Is it bad things, father?’
He answered, ‘Not at all. You see, most people will think that, and that is why most people are fools. You, boy, will not be a fool. Evil is the taking a good thing and twisting it into a bad thing. Not object, but action, choice. Do you understand?’
And I said yes. I did not understand, but I still said yes. It didn’t matter. I would learn soon enough. I would learn from him, from Lucius and every other future death eater, from Voldemort...you...In any case, I dared not say no. My father’s punishments were cruel, you see. If I screamed as a babe he would use a silencing spell. As I grew older it instead became petrificus totalus. Any back talking was rewarded with petrificus totalus compounded with cruciatus. My father hated hearing me. He said I reminded him of an annoying nephew he had had once - one who was ‘accidentally’ drowned at a Christmas party.
He said I looked too much like mother, and that it was odd that I managed to take after a reasonably attractive woman and at the same time be so unreasonably unattractive myself. ‘Well, you certainly aren’t pretty,’ he said, ‘- you had better be useful.’ And so he taught me and trained me. I learned the unforgivable curses by the age of seven. I had encyclopedic knowledge of the dark arts when I entered Hogwarts, and two years early at that. I think Dumbledore was trying to protect me. I can’t see any other reason why I was permitted to attend at the age of nine.
I was good at potions - yet another reason for father to hate me. One needn’t have a lot of power to be good at potions. The class has always been the least prodigious and most hated - even before I was teaching it. He wanted me to be good at transfiguration, and it was always the better subject was it not? You, Sirius, excelled at it. My marks in the class were merely above average, and certainly not brilliant.
I can only be thankful he never learned of my infatuation with you. He never did pay me much mind, but he was remarkably cognizant of my every error in thinking. Every one, that is, except for my attachment to you. I didn’t make it easy to spot, did I? I never was the romantic, and it was an easy thing to substitute scowling for mooning and barbs for sighs. Loose fitting robes made any physical manifestation of my affection easy enough to hide, which was fortunate considering my typical reaction to any of our arguments.
Someone once told me that I got pale in the face when I argued with you and it looked very odd since in an argument with any other person I’d turn red. I suppose it might have been because all the blood was rushing to my crotch.
And now that I’ve got you flustered, I will explain the point of this tale. I admit I’ve digressed a bit from it. I remarked that you had always assumed the worst of me and you said, and I quote, ‘What were we supposed to think?’ You were supposed to think that being a nine year old well versed in curses said little about me personally and rather much about my family life. It’s what you would have thought if you had done any thinking at all.
And now that I’ve filled you with the proper quantities of lust, shame, and pity - I invite you to leave. I really have to get to work, and quite frankly, I am no longer in the mood for your presence.”
He didn’t say a word. He shifted into a dog and slipped through the door. I smirked, though it came out as somewhat of a grimace. “Don’t let the door smack you in the arse on the way out,” I muttered, slamming it shut just in time for it to do exactly that.
He came back the next night. I considered not letting him in, but relented to his whining and opened the door. This time he did not pounce on me as he entered the room. Instead, he chose a spot on my floor about seven feet away and changed back into a man, the dejected expression changing little with the transformation. “Severus, I should never have said that.”
“Said what?”
“That this was easy for you. Called you a greasy git. Any of it.”
“Oh.” I had not been expecting an apology.
“So did you finish your rant this morning or is there more?”
Now that, I had been expecting. “You needn’t worry, Sirius. I’m quite done.”
A look almost like worry crossed his face. “With the rant or with me?” I only gave him a look. “Huh. Stupid question.”
Pause.
“You know, Severus, you’re not ugly.”
I didn’t trust myself to respond. “Really,” he continued, “you’re not. Lily said she thought you quite attractive.” Oh? “Of course, she might have only been trying to make James jealous.” Oh. “But it worked. I of course said she was completely loony. I fancied if I kept telling myself you were the ugliest thing I’d ever seen I’d start to believe it.”
“A charming apology, Sirius.”
“I’m not apologizing, you git. You think just because your father said so that its true. He only said it to hurt you.”
“The first impression you gave me did not imply that you found me attractive.”
“But I did, don’t you see. And when I found out you were a Snape I didn’t know what to think. I know I was stupid, but I was only eleven, for fuck’s sake.”
“Fine, Sirius.”
Pause.
“Were you really turned on by our arguments?”
“What the hell is this Sirius?”
“Oh, don’t get all defensive, Sev. It’s a bit late for it anyway. You’ve already told me you love me.”
“Damn you, Sirius. Why do you keep coming back here? Just to torment me?”
“Language Sev.” Pause. “And you know why.”
“Now who’s being cryptic?”
“Now who’s being obtuse. Just forgive me already, Severus. Please. Or at least tell me if you’re going to.”
“Is what you were waiting for? I’ve already done that, though I appreciate the apology.”
“You have?”
“Yes, Sirius.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Sirius.”
“This conversation is becoming unpleasantly circular.”
“You’re the one who keeps talking when there are far better things you could be doing with that mouth.”
“One more question, Sev.”
“Oh, by all means, Sirius, please do go on.”
“What did you mean when you said you learned from me what evil was.”
I sighed dramatically and waited a lengthy silence before responding. “I said evil was taking a good thing and twisting it. You, Sirius...you were love made spite, bliss made pain.” I laughed humorlessly. “Even now you’ve managed to have me turn descent sentiment into bad poetry.
Sirius shut up abruptly and stared for a long moment, as if afraid to speak. Finally he dragged me to the bed. “Beautiful,” he whispered, finding his voice again as he leaned over me. The word was almost inaudible, but he way he said it almost made me believe him. I shuddered, and said nothing. He kissed shut my eyes before I saw too much into his.
Dawn came too soon.