Chapter Text
Severus awoke with a strange feeling.
It wasn't the sound—though there was something. A faint, almost imperceptible rustle. It was the shiver that ran down his spine, that instinctive feeling that he was no longer alone in the room.
Without opening his eyes, he controlled his breathing, tense. He moved his hand slowly under the pillow, his fingers closing around his wand with automatic precision. He was already preparing to cast the first spell that came to mind when he felt the mattress dip on the opposite side.
"Petrificus Tot—" Before he could finish the word, a firm slap hit his hand, sending the wand flying into the darkness and falling to the floor with a dull thud
"Fuck you, Sniv," the hoarse, unmistakable voice came from the darkness, thick with exhaustion and disdain. "Is this how you always wake up?"
"Black?" Severus sat up, blinking in the darkness. His eyes adjusted, and yes, there he was: Sirius Black, sprawled sideways on his bed as if he owned the place, fluffing his pillow as if he were returning from a nap. "What are you doing here?" Severus asked, his voice more irritated than confused.
"Trying to sleep, if you'll let me," Sirius replied without opening his eyes, turning onto his side with a sleepy sigh. With absurd ease, he reached out and pulled Severus down to lie down too, as if this were part of an established routine.
Severus arched an eyebrow, too surprised to resist. He remained rigid for a moment, but eventually gave in, lying on his side, his back against Sirius's warm chest.
"You know this isn't your home, right?" he grumbled.
"I know, I know..." Sirius murmured, already closing his eyes again. "Now sleep. I just want to feel a decent bed after fourteen days in that hole in Cardiff."
Severus was silent for a few seconds. The room fell silent again, except for the sound of Sirius's slow, deep breathing. He should have protested. Dismissed the idiot. Retrieved his wand. But his body was hot. It smelled of smoke, wet grass, and something more familiar than Severus cared to admit. In the end, he just sighed and sank deeper into the mattress.
Tomorrow he would kick the mutt out.
Or maybe not.
When dawn came, Severus woke to hot breath fanning against the back of his neck, a heavy arm thrown over his waist, a leg entwined with his.
And something else. Something hard, warm, pressing against the curve of his ass, pulsing, unabashedly excited.
He kept his eyes closed for a few seconds, trying to ignore the firm, increasingly evident pressure in his lower back. But it was there. Alive. Present. Marking its territory as if it had every right to.
It had been two weeks since Black had left for a mission in Cardiff. Two weeks of waking up alone, hard, frustrated, with his hand between his legs before he even got out of bed. Two weeks of imagining that same weight, that same smell, that same presence behind him.
Now he was there. Hard. And Severus felt his skin tingle with anticipation.
The movement was instinctive. A gentle brush of his hips, teasing, seeking more. His hand moved hungrily down to his own, already painfully erect cock, his fingers closing around it with a familiar urgency.
"Black," he whispered, his voice deep and thick with need, as he moved more insistently.
There was no immediate response. Only the arm around his waist tightened, possessive. Sirius's hips pressed even tighter against him, and his erection pressed temptingly.
"Black…" he called again, this time lower, more direct.
A deep sound escaped Sirius's throat, half growl, half lazy laugh. "Hmm... too soon..." he murmured, trailing his hand down Severus's chest, sliding under his shirt, across his stomach until it covered his hand, which was moving into a fist. "But it's a great way to wake up."
Severus didn't respond, simply guiding Sirius's hand to replace it. The grip that followed was firm, sure, slow enough to elicit a suppressed moan. Sirius's lips found the back of his neck, trailing hot kisses and light bites along his shoulder and jaw.
"I missed this," he whispered against his skin. "So hard... so needy... so ready for me." The last sentence was accompanied by an increase in pace, and soon Sirius ordered, "Turn over."
Severus obeyed without thinking. Sirius guided him backward to the bed, positioning himself between his legs and spreading them as if he already knew the way. There was a moment of silence, just their eyes meeting, before Sirius took his mouth in an urgent, furious kiss. Their erections met, hot, throbbing, pressing together in a raw friction that accompanied the struggle for dominance. Severus pulled Sirius by the hair, while Sirius left sharp bites on his neck.
"Fuck…" Snape gasped as he felt Sirius's hands push up his shirt, exposing his chest.
Black discovered early on how sensitive Severus's nipples were. A bite, a pinch, a lick, it didn't take much to make him come - and Black made a point of testing it. Severus alternated between pushing and pulling him closer, lost in the contrast between wanting to escape and needing more.
His shirt was already bunched around his neck when Sirius began devouring him, eliciting a gasp from him.
Their erections brushed against each other demandingly, and when Sirius finally wrapped his hand around Severus's, his murmur was laced with mockery. "Look... it's already leaking."
"Black..." Severus sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Fuck me already."
Sirius kissed his neck again, biting the skin. "I think I have the right to take as long as I want today, Sniv," he teased, biting his lobe.
Before Severus could respond, the kisses intensified, and Sirius's hand sped up. He pulled away just enough to breathe, but the air was gone the instant he felt Sirius invade him with two fingers, firm and precise.
Severus arched his back, surprised by the sudden touch. His moans became more erratic, his toes curled, and his nails dug into Sirius's back. His entire body began to tremble, the muffled sound of someone dangerously close to the edge, and when Sirius added another finger, he simply lost it.
Severus's body still trembled, surrendered, every muscle softening under Sirius's insistent touch. But that didn't slow him down; on the contrary. Sirius tightened his grip on his hip, firm, demanding, while the movements of his fingers became deeper and more rhythmic. Another finger joined the intrusion, eliciting a muffled sound from Severus, almost a sob of pleasure. But he was too lost to voice any protest; he could only clutch the sheets and let the wave carry him away. When Sirius flipped him onto his stomach,
Severus offered no resistance, though he wasn't prepared for the hot, wet shock that followed. Sirius's tongue penetrated him precisely, and Severus's body reacted instantly, arching involuntarily. A loud moan escaped his lips, shattering any attempt at control.
"Sirius…" Severus's voice sounded ragged, almost a plea for him to stop… but his cock betrayed him, already hardening again, too sensitive to the touch.
Sirius let out a low, husky laugh. "Now, I think you're ready…" he murmured, his voice gliding over Severus's skin along with the kisses that slowly trailed up the line of his spine.
Severus felt Sirius's fingers twine tightly in his hair, tugging with a control that drew a breathless, involuntary sigh from him. As if his body recognized the command even before his mind, he moved, supporting himself on his hands and knees, his breathing already rapid, his body instinctively aligned, ready, waiting.
Sirius thrust into him in one go, giving Severus no time to prepare. The impact made them both gasp loudly, a raw, intense mixture of pleasure and pain. Severus instinctively squeezed Sirius's cock, feeling himself fill in a way that disconcerted him, while Sirius responded by tightening his grip on his hips and beginning to thrust.
One, two, three, the rhythm was slow, almost deliberate, until Sirius lost himself in the urgency and increased the strength, speed, and depth of each thrust.
Severus continued to tighten around him, panting, demanding more: faster, harder, deeper, as he writhed, giving himself completely to that electric mix of pain and pleasure, feeling Sirius sink deeper and deeper inside him.
"Fuck... so tight," Sirius murmured, trailing hot kisses down the back of Severus's neck as he tugged firmly on his hair. "Waited for me, huh, Sniv? I bet that hole missed me."
Severus's eyes rolled back in pure pleasure as he rested his head against the mattress, Sirius. "Shut up," he gasped, his hand reaching for his cock. "It's not like you're the only one."
The answer was a quick, firm slap on his ass, making Severus jump slightly. The pace increased, Sirius pulling Severus to his knees, his hand squeezing his neck in a control that brooked no denial. The thrusts became slower, but deeper, marking his territory.
"This hole is mine, Sniv," Sirius whispered close to his ear, squeezing Severus's neck with cruel delicacy. "It's already shaped like my cock."
He pushed Severus back to his previous position, resuming a rapid rhythm, faster and faster, yet precise, almost choreographed by their panting breaths.
Severus climaxed when he felt Sirius squeeze his cock, one firm squeeze enough to send him falling forward, limp and exhausted. And then he felt Sirius collapse onto his sweaty back, still holding him tightly to keep him from pulling away. He felt a light kiss on his shoulder, and then Sirius pulled away, lying down beside him.
Their bodies were hot, sweaty, breathing heavily. The last thing Severus felt before drifting off to sleep was the gentle touch of Sirius's wand, wiping away what was left.
_________________
Severus arrived late at the hospital, but no one dared to comment — not when he was the head of the Healing Potions Department. His lab coat billowed as he crossed the corridors with silent urgency.
Of course, there were exceptions.
“Sirius back from his trip?” Goldstein asked, with an exaggeratedly innocent smile, leaning on the counter with a vial of basilisk scale in her hand.
Severus didn’t even bother to look at her. “I can’t imagine what that has to do with your work,” he replied dryly, removing the vials from his case with an irritated snap. “Have you delivered the potions for the poisoning ward?”
“Yes,” she replied, now busy transferring the ingredients one by one to the brushed steel counter. “I spoke with Hestia, who told me that Emma was on a mission with the Aurors. And I know Emma works directly with Sirius. So if they were away, he must have been too. And, let’s face it, you’ve been unbearable the past few days.”
Severus squinted, his fingers pausing briefly over a vial of asphodel. He exhaled deeply and in a controlled manner, returning to organizing as if the interruption had never happened.
“Miss Goldstein,” he said, his voice low and cutting, “I’m pleased to know that your social life is in full swing and that you are, apparently, very well informed about the Ministry’s Auror Department. However, none of that has anything to do with our work. And whether Sirius Black is traveling or not… is completely irrelevant to me.”
He lifted his eyes, finally meeting hers. A tense gleam danced in his dark gaze, somewhere between annoyance and barely disguised irritation. Goldstein raised her hands in a theatrical gesture of surrender.
“Understood, boss. Of course.” She gave a little laugh, already moving away. “Oh, you have a hickey right here,” she said, pointing to the area below his ear.
“One more word, and I’ll transfer you to sterilize instruments in the infectious cases surgical ward.” Severus said without raising his voice, but there was enough venom to silence anyone.
Goldstein disappeared through the door with a muffled laugh, while Severus finally allowed himself a longer sigh, and after another glamour spell, his hands returned to work… but not his thoughts.
He knew about the rumors circulating through the hospital corridors. It was inevitable, especially after that night when he and Black left Regulus’s birthday party together, a little over a month ago. But it was better to ignore it. Pretend he didn’t hear, didn’t see the sidelong glances, the whispered half-conversations when he entered a room. No reason to give more fodder for speculation, not now.
Not when his own friends had already started questioning his absences from social events, dinners, casual meet-ups, weekend trips. And not when no one had really understood what had happened between him and Austin Diggory. Not that it was a relationship, far from it. Just two meetings, two coffees, a rushed kiss at the door, and a message never answered. The problem was that, unlike him, almost all his friends were already in stable relationships, or at least appeared to be.
Evan and Barty had been living together for two years. Bruce and Carola were engaged. Wilkes and Avery, finally together. Edmund and Pandora lived like a retired couple of thirty years, sharing plants and secrets. Even Regulus — Regulus! — was at peace with Alice. Lucius and Narcissa were already planning their second child.
So everyone looked at him with expectation. They waited, with gentle yet oppressive patience, for him to settle down with someone. To find “his person.”
But what Severus had was Black.
And the sex with Black was… incredible. Brutal, devastating, addictive. And perhaps that was the only reason he still accepted the sporadic — increasingly frequent — invitations from that damned Gryffindor. He endured the chaos that came with him. He endured the awkward silences afterward.
At 28, with his master’s degree completed and the leadership of a research department in his hands, Severus had more than he had dared to imagine as a scrawny student hiding in Hogwarts’ shadows. But there were still goals. Unfulfilled dreams.
Stabilizing magical cores after long periods of confinement was one of those obsessions. A project he had been working on for years. He knew that keeping magic suppressed for too long had severe consequences — especially in children, who could develop obscurials. But adults weren’t immune. Even if a complete obscurial didn’t form, continuous repression of magic could slowly consume the vitality of the body.
That’s how his mother died.
Eileen Prince hadn’t cast a spell since he was eleven. Severus never knew the exact reason — whether it was fear, trauma, depression, or all of it together. In his final year at Hogwarts, she simply fell ill. The diagnosis was vague, the doctors confused. The magic, locked and contained for so long, had turned against her. The energy that should have protected her ended up destroying her from the inside out.
Since then, he had been studying ways to prevent that. To create a protocol, a tool, a spell, something that could keep magical cores active even during confinement, periods of abstinence, or trauma.
And perhaps that was why he allowed himself so little.
Relationships require time. They require openness, exposure, surrender.
He couldn’t afford that.
And Black… Black was anything but safe. Not that he had imagined a future with him. But sometimes, when he woke up in the morning with a warm body behind him hugging him, he imagined what it might be like.
They had been at this for six months. Not that Severus was counting.
But it was July, and he still remembered, with uncomfortable clarity, spending New Year’s stuck on Sirius Black’s cock, his back against the fogged mirror of Remus’s bathroom. The loud music drowned out the moans, but Severus remembered the taste of cheap liquor, the scent of Black clinging to his skin, and his firm hand pressing against his mouth when it got too loud. It was a mistake. A slip. An impulse fueled by alcohol.
They repeated the “mistake” a month later, at a boring dinner at Narcissa’s house, while the rest of the elite feigned civility in the hall. Sirius followed him to the upstairs bathroom, and this time Severus didn’t even protest when he was thrown against the door and kissed as if it were the only drug capable of calming Black’s nerves.
Two weeks later, they ran into each other by chance in Diagon Alley. Severus tried to escape Emma Vanity, who never shut up, and Sirius was fetching materials for the novice Auror self-defense classes. It was quick, tense, and ended with Severus lying in sheets too black for his taste, his legs numb from pressing Sirius’s hips against his own body.
In March, Sirius showed up at the hospital injured after a mission in the North. Severus yelled at him in the hallway for walking with broken ribs. And he yelled again when Sirius entered his office without knocking. And he moaned, low and trembling, when the bastard knelt between his legs in the middle of work, removing his blood-soaked gloves to open it with his still-cold fingers. Severus hated that he'd let him. He hated even more that he'd come too quickly.
In April, they began scheduling dates, times, and places. Like two adults. Severus hated the casual way Sirius sent messages like "Thursday, 10 p.m., your place?" as if they were training partners, not a recurring mistake that reeked of unresolved desire. And still, he responded. Sometimes with a time. Sometimes just with a "door unlocked."
In May, Severus grew tired of Sirius's dirty bed and musty hotel rooms. They started going to his apartment. Sirius didn't complain. On the contrary—he started arriving early, bringing cheap wine, forgetting underwear in the laundry, and leaving cookie crumbs on the couch.
Severus's cat, Shelly, hated the change in routine and started growling whenever she saw him. Severus should have listened to her more.
In June, Sirius and Shelly fought almost every weekend. Severus tried to remain patient as he watched Black and the cat stare and growl at each other as if they were on a battlefield. But nothing was worse than when she would wake up lying on Black's chest, staring at him, making him jump in fright.
And now it was July. And Severus still told himself it was nothing.
Just sex. Just tension. Just need.
But it was hard to maintain the lie when he found black hairs on his pillow. Or when Sirius would start talking politics naked in the kitchen at seven in the morning, while making coffee and complaining about the cat as if she were part of the household.
Severus wasn't counting. But he knew very well how many times he'd regretted opening that door.