Chapter Text
The night settled in thick around the castle grounds, cloaking Hogwarts in a misty haze. Severus Snape sat alone, huddled in an alcove on the fifth floor away from prying eyes, his thoughts unrelenting and uncomfortable as he stared out the window. Lily hadn’t spoken to him for weeks - not since he’d been seen with Mulciber and Avery in the dungeons, caught discussing Dark Arts spells with a fascination that had troubled her. The reminder twisted inside him like a knife. Alone, once again. He had tried to explain to her the reasons for his fascination with the Dark Arts – his mother had been instructing him in the hopes of him finally getting away from his abusive father when he was of age – why his mother couldn’t kill his father herself was baffling to him – But Lily just saw all Dark Arts spells as evil, not something that could be used for protection and self-defence…everything was just so black and white to Gryffindors, he thought bitterly.
He startled out of his thoughts as a figure dropped down beside him on the floor, face half-lit by a flickering wand tip.
“Black?” The word dripped with disdain as Snape's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer. “To what do I owe this...unwanted company?”
Sirius didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned against the cool, fogged window, his gaze lost among the distant, shimmering stars barely visible through the haze. The playful spark that usually danced in his eyes was extinguished, replaced by a heavy shadow that hung over him like an unwelcome cloak.
“What’s the matter, Black? Cat got your tongue?” Snape’s voice sliced through the silence, curiosity creeping into his tone despite his usual contempt.
Sirius released a deep, weary sigh, the sound heavy with unspoken burdens. With a deliberate motion, he placed a half-filled bottle of firewhiskey on the window seat, the liquid sloshing softly against the glass. “Nothing you’d understand,” he murmured, but the bitterness laced in his words caught Snape’s attention, provoking a flicker of intrigue that eclipsed his disdain.
“Try me!” Snape pressed, leaning slightly forward as if daring the Gryffindor to share his secret.
“Why would I tell you anything?” Sirius shot back, frustration punctuating his voice as he took a long, defiant swig of the liquor.
“Fine, don’t tell me,” Snape replied, shrugging dismissively, turning his gaze back to the misty night outside.
Sirius slumped against the window, the glass cold against his head as he let out a heavy breath. “Do you ever feel like you don’t fit in, that you’ve been forgotten?”
Snape stiffened momentarily, the question hanging in the air like a thick fog. He hesitated, glancing at Sirius, wondering if he was really having a dig at him. Black’s usual aloofness was gone. His trademark grey eyes of the Black dynasty had lost their usual sparkle. Instead, he saw bloodshot, weary eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and suppressed tears, an unexpected vulnerability that surprisingly tugged at Snape’s chest.
“All the time,” he replied quietly, his voice barely above a whisper as he averted his gaze.
“Yeah?” Sirius turned, surprise flickering across his face.
“Yeah. I’m a half-blood in Slytherin who grew up in the Muggle world and was abused by my Muggle father. I’m a joke amongst my house.” Snape braced for laughter at his confession, but instead, Sirius offered the bottle, a silent acknowledgement of shared pain.
“Sucks being the black sheep. My mother curses me for everything if it doesn’t live up to the Black family name.”
“So, is that what's bothering you? Your family?” Snape ventured, probing further.
Sirius contemplated the question, the firewhiskey swirling in the bottle as he took another swig. “No, not really. That’s something I’ve dealt with for a long time.” His tone was flat, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper.
“Then why are you drinking with me on a Friday night,” Snape sneered, “instead of being with your little gang?”
Sirius shrugged, the movement infused with a weight of resignation. “Plenty of reasons…I was planning on drinking by myself, but you were here.”
“Where are your little friends? You finally saw sense and ditched Potter?” The scathing look Sirius shot him betrayed the hurt lurking beneath. “Potter ditched you?” Snape raised an eyebrow, surprised by the implication.
Sirius shrugged, but the mask of indifference faltered. “Seems that way…he’s obsessed with Lily.”
At the mention of her name, Snape’s scowl deepened. “She’s too intelligent to fall for that imbecile.”
“I’m not so sure!” Sirius sighed, the weight of defeat pressing down on him.
“What!” Snape exclaimed, incredulity flashing in his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We were having drinks in the common room, but then they disappeared just as I was about to tell him something important—no doubt to try and serenade her again. I’ve been trying to tell him for weeks, but all he does is interrupt and talk about Lily,” Sirius muttered bitterly, slumping back against the window. “It’s like as soon as Lily’s in his vicinity, everyone else is forgotten about.”
"Aww, poor Black, not being the centre of attention for once,” Snape mocked, rolling his eyes.
“I’m always the centre of attention,” Sirius retorted, snatching the bottle back. “I just…he’s my best friend…my brother…I needed some advice about someone…some support…I’ve listened to him rant about Lily for years, and the one time I needed him to be there for me...” His voice trailed off, frustration etched into the lines of his face as he took a swig from the bottle, swallowing more than just the liquor.
Snape pinched the bridge of his nose, exasperation pooling in his expression. “Seriously? You’re upset over some girl?” he challenged, his tone an edge of disbelief.
Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, fingers fumbling nervously. “No… not exactly,” he muttered.
Snape’s brows knitted together in thought. “Are you jealous of Lily or something?” he pressed, sharp and probing.
“No…” came the sharp bark of Sirius’s response, the air thick with tension. “I’m in love with my best friend, alright.” The admission hung heavy.
Snape’s eyes widened, sarcasm flickering behind them. “You’re in love with James? That’s not news,” he said, rolling his eyes dismissively.
“What? No! He’s my brother!” Sirius’s voice cracked, desperation creeping into his tone as he recoiled from the thought.
“Unlike your actual brother?” Snape countered, the pointed look cutting deeper than intended.
The colour drained from Sirius’s face, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Please don’t talk about Reggie… he won’t talk to me… he hates me…” The weight of his words pressed down on his shoulders, bowing him as though the very mention of his brother could crush him.
Understanding flickered in Snape’s eyes as he observed the turmoil within Sirius—anguish and love battling fiercely beneath the surface. “So, if it’s not James, then….” The realisation landed with the force of a Bludger. “Lupin… you’re in love with Lupin, and he’s been seeing that Ravenclaw bloke.”
Sirius nodded slowly, the tension coiling tighter in his chest. “I’ve been trying to tell James for weeks. He doesn’t even know I’m gay…” Panic flared like fire in his eyes as he turned to Snape, urgency spilling from his lips. “If word got out… my mother would have me killed… You can’t be gay in my family… We have to produce heirs…” The words tumbled out, frantic and desperate, each one a weight that threatened to pull him under.
Snape shrugged, taking a long draught from the bottle, “Well, it would be hypocritical of me if I were to tell anyone!” he mumbled, the liquid courage fuelling their unguarded conversation.
Sirius’s head whipped around, shock etching his features. “Wait, what? You’re gay? But I thought… Lily?”
“Bi,” Snape replied coolly, handing the bottle back.
Sirius’s eyes widened, disbelief etched into every line of his face. “No fucking way.”
“Not that I’ve had any luck with either,” Snape admitted, snatching the bottle away once more.
“Same,” Sirius echoed, but beneath the bravado, despair lingered in his tone.
“You? The bad boy of Gryffindor Tower… not having luck with men?” Snape scoffed, incredulous.
“Like I said… I can’t exactly be open about it… can’t even talk to my friends about it… even Pete’s absent these days… Flirting with girls is just a front…” Sirius downed another gulp of liquor, disbelief washing over him. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this!”
Snape shrugged again, a small smirk breaking through his facade. “It’s not like I’d go blabbing; all anyone talks about is stupid Pureblood traditions, blood supremacy, and what dark curse they can learn next… no one’s interested in what I have to say.”
“I get that… It’s the opposite in my house…” Sirius admitted, the fight leaving his voice, replaced by a quiet sadness. “I may have been brought up in an abusive household, but no one wants to hear about the good parts of wizarding culture that we seem to be forgetting about. Why’s it so wrong to merge the best of both worlds?”
The conversation flowed as easily as the Firewhiskey, both admitting their fears of being forgotten or left homeless because they didn’t fit in. How they both loved someone who didn’t love them back. How they are both sick of the divides within school that force them to distance themselves from people they love, and how they want a better world for everyone in it.
“Maybe you should make Lupin jealous…your friends clearly won’t care that you’re gay,” Snape said when the conversation turned back to their lack of romance. “…find someone who would keep your secret…you’ll soon know by Lupin’s reaction if he feels the same way about you.”
“He doesn’t,” Sirius huffed. “I would know.”
“No, you wouldn’t…you’re too wrapped up with James, and if they think you’re straight, then of course Lupin would never admit it…where’s that Gryffindor courage you are all known for?” Snape mocked, nudging him playfully.
Sirius froze, then snorted softly, shrugging. “Maybe… But I don’t know anyone else who’s gay and…I’ve never been with a bloke before,” he admitted. “... I’d feel safe with Lupin, but I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself with anyone else…what if I came on to them and they laughed at me…told everyone, or I did something wrong?”
Snape never thought he would ever feel sympathy for Black, but here he was relating to the idiot.
A beat of silence passed between them. “I know how you feel…maybe we should practice on each other,” he half-joked.
Sirius snorted and then looked up at Snape. An unexpected spark ignited between them as grey eyes met brown, and without thinking, Sirius leaned closer, pressing his lip firmly against Snape’s.
Snape pulled back on instinct, “What are you doing?” It was meant to come out firm, scolding, but instead, his voice came out slightly breathless.
“Shit, sorry,” said Sirius, rubbing a hand down his face. “I…shouldn’t have…”
But Snape cut him off, closing the distance once more.
Their lips collided with an eager clumsiness, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in an awkward dance, each one vying for dominance. But as the moment stretched, the tension faded; Snape's hands slipped around Sirius' waist, drawing him in, their bodies moulding together as Sirius found himself settling onto Snape's lap, their kisses finding an urgent rhythm.
They spent the night hidden away in a secluded alcove. It was clumsy and chaotic, a tangle of eager hands and whispered breaths, but they surrendered to it—learning, feeling, exploring. A night etched into memory, impossible to forget.