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Best Served Cold	By : KohakuShadow Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Snape/Sirius Views: 12564 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters, nor am I making any money off of it. It's called FANfiction because I DON'T own it, right? Right. Good that we're clear.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 18-18
- 19-19
- 20-20
- 21-21
- 22-22
- 23-Epilogue
- 10
- 11
- 12
Chapter
11

Severus rested his scotch on a small accent table beside his favorite
(only) armchair. It was the first opportunity he had to relax in
weeks, so he thought it was very inconsiderate of Black to be
haunting his thoughts as he had been doing rather diligently since he
last saw the man. 'Be careful,' he'd said, as if Sirius Black had
even the faintest clue to the meaning of the word.

When he first saw Sirius after he broke out of Azkaban, Severus had
been seething with long-denied revenge. He wanted to get Black not
only for all he'd put him through when they were boys, but for
selling out Lily. He had worked it up over the years to make Sirius
shoulder the blame for the fact the love of his life had been killed.
Now? Now Sirius was only another victim. He couldn't bring
himself to hate the man for that.

If he was honest with himself, it disturbed him far more than he
cared to admit to find how severely Azkaban had marked Sirius.
Sirius Black had always – at the best of times and the worst –
been an indestructible presence in his life. He was carefree,
reckless, handsome, and had a tireless grin. He was everything
Severus wasn't. To find him so diminished by malnutrition and the
Dementors left Severus far more troubled than he cared to admit. Now
and again, there would be the barest hint of one of his old smiles,
but they had been robbed of most of their manic energy.

And yet...he was still a handsome man. Even age and Azkaban hadn't
taken that from him entirely. He was more sallow and still a bit
gaunt, but there was a beauty so indescribably 'Sirius' which
remained that often left Severus uncharacteristically enchanted. The
battle of wits between them was the only thing that kept him from
strolling too far down memory lane when he found himself in the man's
presence. When he was away from Sirius he was kept far too busy to
think on it much, thankfully, with the exception of these rare
moments alone in which he seemed to think of nothing else.

Sirius, on the other hand, trapped in his family home – which
he openly loathed (and Severus couldn't blame him) – and
bed-ridden, with little else to do, seemed to be thinking of the past
far too frequently and in far too much depth. When he had returned
to Grimauld Place for a meeting and provided Sirius with the
necessary potion and a brief check-up, Sirius had blatantly flirted
with him when they were alone. He'd cracked a joke about getting
podgy when Severus had been inspecting the stomach wound.

Severus had Molly to thank for Sirius finally putting a bit of weight
back on, he supposed. It was a relief to not see the man's ribs
pronounced so clearly through his flesh when he stretched his back as
they had been upon first inspection. Sirius had protested a bit when
Severus had provided Molly with a diet for him with what Sirius had
called 'entirely too much green'. His petulant expression had been
rather cute, but Severus chastised himself every time he thought so.
He was not the boy he once was, and for that matter, neither was
Black. It was foolishness to entertain any lingering desire to
relive the halcyon days of their youth. The pleasure the two men
took from one another curled into an old duvet on the floor of the
Shrieking Shack was only a memory, and one best left in the past
where it belonged, perhaps visited occasionally as one visits all of
their memories, but not to be put on display and certainly not to be
repeated. Especially not now. Perhaps after the war, once the Dark
Lord was defeated, if Sirius was randy enough, and he himself drunk
enough, the idea of a tryst or two now and again wouldn't be entirely
horrifying, but he wouldn't risk everything he and Dumbledore had
been fighting so long and so hard to protect over his libido's
unfounded curiosity.

So where exactly did that leave him then? Well, it more or less left
him exactly here, thinking about it, but doing nothing.
Watching, but never acting.

'The story of my life,' he
thought blandly and lifted his glass, tilting back the rest of the
scotch and finding a small measure of comfort in the way it burned
its way down his throat. He lifted his gaze toward the clock,
dreading the next Order meeting, which he would be obliged to attend
in just over an hour. He was sure Sirius would try to find some
excuse to get him alone. He had exactly 72 minutes to prepare his
excuses.

*

Sirius checked his reflection for the third time. “The blue
shirt is nice, isn't it, Rem? I think I like the blue shirt.”
He adjusted the collar of the powder blue linen shirt he'd chosen
after much debate. “Do you think the charcoal vest is better?
Or the navy one? The navy matches better, doesn't it? But I think
it's a bit too big...”

Remus couldn't quite bring himself to find his best friend's school
boy crush cute. It was because of who he had said crush on –
there was no way it could possibly end well. “Wear whichever
you please, Padfoot. He isn't coming tonight to be awed by your
fashion sense.”

“I know that!” Sirius declared. “But there's no
rule saying he can't be awed while he's here. It's like
multi-tasking.”

“Sirius...”

“Don't say it, Moony. I know this is crazy. I know I have
almost no chance, but I also know I have to take whatever slim chance
I have while I have it. I spent twelve years in Hell, Remus,
having every last bit of happiness sucked out of me by the Dementors.
Twelve years. And they couldn't take Him away from me.
They never fed on the memories I had of Severus. Remembering the
nights we spent together is the only thing that kept me from
completely losing it. There has to be something to that, Remus.
There just has to be.”

“Possibly that your happiness and misery where Snape is
involved are so closely twined that the Dementors weren't able to
take one without also taking the other,” Remus replied blandly.
“Causing one another to suffer is all that you and Severus
have ever managed. What makes you think things are going to change
now, just because you put on your best shirt? Padfoot, surely
you know how insane this is.”

“I've said as much, haven't I? Of course I know, Remus. He's
not a handsome man, and yet, I find him more beautiful every time I
lay eyes on him. I worry about whether he still finds me attractive,
as ragged as I've become. When he's near, my pulse races, my palms
sweat. It's like being a child with his first crush all over again.
Maybe that's what's different this time. I know how insane it
is. I know what I want from him. It's not like when we were boys
and I started with shagging and worked my way from there. I watch
Arthur and Molly, and I see the way you and Tonks steal glances at
one another when you think no one will notice. I want that, Rem. I
want someone to steal glances at, to wake up next to. I want that
someone to be him. It's always been him. I've just been too much of
a stubborn git to know it before.”

“You're certain this has nothing to do with the fact you've not
had a shag in over a decade?” Remus remarked.

Sirius rewarded Remus with a wolfish grin. “I won't deny that
I want him,” he answered. “I want him now more than I
ever have. He's aged so well.” Sirius frowned at his
reflection as he tried to iron a crease out of his charcoal vest with
his thumb, then reached into the wardrobe to change the black
trousers he was wearing for a pair that matched the vest. “...not
at all like me,” he complained. “I used to be so
handsome.”

“You're still perfectly handsome, Sirius.”

“Sweet of you to lie, Remus. I look like a mangy stray. My
hair has all but turned to straw.”

“You're exaggerating,” Remus sighed. Sirius was far too
in love with melodramatics, and apparently far too taken with Severus
Snape as well.

“Am I?” Sirius asked rhetorically and barreled on before
Remus could get a syllable in, let alone an entire word. “Sev
though, he's really a lot better-looking than he used to be. He's
grown into his long limbs, and he's got this sort of confident aura
now. He radiates it, like he's downright bad ass and knows
it.” He smirked. “And he is sort of bad ass,
isn't he? He's a far cry from the gangly little nerd he was in
school. He had a sensual thing going before, but now he's outright
sexy.”

Remus sighed quietly as Sirius rambled off every last one of Severus
Snape's most winning qualities. He wondered if Sirius even believed
half of them or if he was just gushing for the sake of gushing. He
agreed that Snape had come into his own with age, but not to the
extremes that had Sirius babbling. That's what worried him. It
meant Sirius may be truly smitten, far more than a good, hard shag
would solve. As for Severus, well, it wasn't as much of a secret as
Snape liked to believe, that his affections lay in a cold grave with
Lily Potter. Remus didn't think even Sirius had much chance with a
dead girl as his competition. “What about Lily then?” he
asked. If Sirius was going to pursue this, he had to be clear on
just where he stood, and thinking things through was not one of
Sirius's more pronounced qualities.

“What about her?” Sirius blanketed. “Last time I
checked, love wasn't a Member's Only Club, Rem. Of course I don't
expect him to stop loving Lily. She was a wonderful girl and his
first love. Of course she'll always be with him. But Lily is dead,
and I have waited a very long time for my turn. I just didn't
realize that I was waiting. I didn't realize that I never got over
him. Near-death experiences are funny like that – they push
everything right into perspective.”

“Sirius...” he hadn't realized just how far gone his
friend was. He'd always known that Sirius could fall for a
man like Snape. He was just too busy shagging the very same man to
notice when Sirius actually fell. If he'd been paying attention,
maybe he wouldn't have helped Severus lie, maybe the Shrieking Shack
incident would never have happened, maybe Severus wouldn't have
turned to the Death Eaters, but in the end, there was no point in
placing blame. The fact was, Sirius Black was in love, and a love of
the most dangerous and unlikely sort at that.

“Don't spoil my fun, Moony. My mind is made up.”

“No chance at all of changing it then, convincing you of how
mental you're being and how completely hopeless this is? Not even if
I remind you that the one who is going to end up hurt the most at the
end of this is going to be you. Again.”

“Of course I'm being mental. I've always been a little mental.
As to changing my mind, I'm afraid not, old friend, but I give you
accolades for your thorough effort. Now, how do I look?” He
spun in a small circle. It was the first time since the Department
of Mysteries that he'd been able to make any sweeping, sudden
movements without feeling ill and he gloried in the change of pace.

“Like there is someone that you're trying very hard to
impress,” Remus replied.

“Perfect! Then he's sure to get the hint.”

*

...sure to get the hint if he wasn't completely daft, anyway, and
Severus Snape was anything but. Even so, if he could possibly have
missed the uncharacteristically dapper attire, he certainly couldn't
miss the way that Sirius would look at him and smile when the bulk of
the Order's attention was elsewhere. Sirius didn't seem to care if
Lupin or Potter saw, so whatever the game was, they were most
definitely in on it. The way they were careful not to make eye
contact told Severus all he needed to know – they had no
intention of putting an end to this madness.

Two hours into the meeting from hell, Arthur Weasley suggested a
brief recess for tea and cakes. They were all in need of a break and
Severus used the opportunity to excuse himself to use the lavatory.
Much to his disdain, Sirius did the same, claiming he wanted to 'wait
in line' before anyone else got the same idea.

Five minutes later, Severus found himself pressed firmly against
Sirius Black's warm body, dragging his tongue along the inside of the
Gryffindor's mouth as if he'd just come home after a long journey and
wondering how it had happened.

'It is Black's fault,' he
thought. 'He touched my face.'

Yes, that had been the reason. Sirius could dress up, flirt, even
smile meaningfully at him across a crowded room – those things
he could learn to endure with only a mild sense of annoyance, but
when he opened the bathroom door Sirius didn't say anything.
He was so accustomed to the man's razor-sharp wit butting heads with
his scathing sarcasm that he didn't know what to do about silence.
Sirius was standing there looking the healthiest he had looked in
quite some time, and he was cleaned, combed, and just as blindingly
handsome as Severus remembered him from their youth. He tucked a
quarter-full vial of the translucent pain relief potion into Snape's
breast pocket and rather than lower his hand he lifted it to cup the
other man's cheek. “Super-spy, no problem. Evil, dark wizards
bent on world domination, piece of cake. And yet, somehow, this is
also a man who takes one look at the likes of me and instantly
shrinks away in terror. What are you so afraid of, Severus?”

Severus couldn't answer the accusation. If he were an honest man, it
was the future that frightened him – all of the things that
they were building and tearing down would not be an experience
without its casualties, but he wasn't an honest man – he wasn't
even honest with himself. He wouldn't admit to himself that the
thought of growing closer to Sirius only to lose him was
unfathomable, and possibly life-shattering (if he had enough of a
life to shatter), so admitting it to Sirius was out of the question.

And so, he'd kissed him. It made no logical sense, but it had been
the only answer he could give. The kiss would say, 'see, I'm not
afraid,' and 'you're wrong about me.' The kiss substantiated the
lie, because right now, precariously teetering between Dumbledore
(who always pushed too hard and asked for too much), and the Dark
Lord (who was only about ten times worse), the truth was far more
than he could handle. He simply didn't have the time or energy for
it. He couldn't afford ties – they would be used against him.
He tried to remind himself of this, but it was rather difficult to
think clearly when another man had a fist curled into his hair and a
mischievous thigh rubbing between his legs. He very clearly thought
he should most certainly not be doing this at all, but his
body was rather curiously acting independently of his brain for the
moment.

Sirius moaned into the aggressive kiss. He was trapped between
Severus Snape's warm body and the cool tile wall, clothes no doubt in
varying states of disarray as Severus dug his fingers into his hips,
and the only thing on Sirius Black's mind at the moment was, 'Merlin,
if there is a place called Heaven, please, please, please,
make it be exactly like this.'

But it didn't last. Severus came to his senses and pulled away. “I
am no coward,” he said.

Sirius snickered. Snape's motto. It was predictable, and a bit
cute, really, when Severus was saying it with kiss-swollen lips.
“Did I ever say you were?” Sirius asked innocently.

Severus ignored him. “But neither am I a young man prone to
foolish, childish things any longer.”

“Is that what you think? That I'm foolish and childish?”

“Does my opinion suddenly matter?” Severus quipped.

“Your opinion has always mattered. You just never saw fit to
share it. Has that changed?”

“It has not,” Severus replied.

Sirius reached up to caress Snape's face again, but Snape took a
half-step back to move out of reach. This left his arse pressed
against the sink, with Sirius's arm in the way of his only escape
route.

Sirius sighed when his hand hit dead air. “Then neither of us
have changed,” he answered stubbornly. “We were good
once, Severus, really good. We've made our share of mistakes,
but we can be good again.”

“You make more if it than it was,” Severus said.

“I make of it what I wanted it to be,” Sirius snapped.
“What it would have been if...”

“...if you didn't plot to have Lupin kill me.”

“I didn't want you dead! You know I didn't. How could I? I was
utterly obsessed with you. But you wrote me off with a lie, and one
you didn't even have the courtesy to tell me yourself. I was angry,
and I was jealous, and I made a bad decision that I can't un-make.
You can understand what that's like, can't you? Your bad decisions
have dictated your entire life.”

“Do not rub that in my face and expect me to warm to
your cause,” Severus spat. He would never forgive himself for
giving Voldemort the prophecy that ultimately led to Lily's death.
That didn't, however, mean he cared to be reminded – least of
all by a man who had just been busily swallowing his tongue.

“I'm not rubbing it in! For pity's sake, Severus. Not every
word anyone ever says to you is an attack! I am only trying to say
that we both know what it is like to make huge mistakes and that it
is about time we've let them go.”

“And by thus doing, allow you to seduce me again?”
Severus asked. His tone of voice told Sirius just what he thought
about that. “Perhaps I am no longer the type to be seduced.”

Sirius watched him quizzically for a moment, trying to decide exactly
what to make of that statement. “It would be rather pointless
for you to seduce me, seeing as I am already quite
enchanted by you,” he replied.

Severus sighed. Had Sirius always been so persistent? He didn't
recall. He'd paid much more attention to Sirius's body than his
personality when they were young. It troubled him to find that
Sirius had facets to his personality that Severus had always favored.
He had always been drawn to people who knew exactly what they wanted
and pursued it tirelessly until they got it. That fascination had
gotten him into no small amount of trouble. He also fancied Sirius's
good looks and sharp wit. He recalled a certain fancy for parts of
Black's anatomy that had nothing to do with his beautiful face, as
well. That is why he knew he had to think of something that would
make him quite undesirable to Sirius and put an end to this nonsense
once and for all, before he lost the battle of wills and found
himself in Sirius's bed again.

“And if I told you I have not submitted to another man
in many years?” he asked. There. That should do it.

Sirius blinked. He went over the words in his mind, analyzing how
many ways it could be interpreted. 'Only the one,' he
decided.

Severus managed not to laugh at Sirius's surprise after the delay,
but only barely.

“Well, okay then,” Sirius said, and he did laugh
when Severus couldn't quite keep the shock from his face. There was
something about being able to surprise an Occlumens, especially one
of Snape's ability, that was good for the ego. “But you'd
better be gentle. I've never bottomed before. I haven't actually
shagged anyone since you.”

Severus couldn't think of an appropriately sharp retort. Years had
passed between his last time with Sirius and the day that Sirius was
sent to Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. Surely a man like
Sirius – with those looks and that devastating smile –
had had plenty of opportunities, and he well knew the state of
Black's libido. “You're lying.”

“If you think so, then read my mind,” Sirius challenged.
“I won't resist.”

Before Snape had any chance to honestly consider it, there was a
knock at the door. “Alright in there?” Moody's gravelly
voice asked.

Severus turned abruptly and pulled the door open. “Quite. I
was merely inspecting Black's wound. It is healing well enough. I do
not think he will require further attention at this point. The
meeting is about to resume, then?”

His stern gaze warned Moody and his bloody omniscient eye not to
challenge the story. Moody stepped aside as casually as a man
missing so many chunks of his body could and gave a short nod. “That
it is.”

Sirius sighed. No need for further attention indeed. Severus was
running away. He was going to have to work harder at it if he
expected Snape to come around. He adjusted his shirt. “Just
between you and me,” he said to Moody, “he was an
insensitive prat as a kid, and he's still an insensitive prat.”

'An adorable, insensitive prat, but an insensitive prat
nonetheless,' he thought.
Well, he'd earned a kiss this time. He would just have to be patient
and keep trying.

To
Be Continued...
- 10
- 11
- 12
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