Chapter 2: Private Lessons

It was no surprise that Snape had chosen one of the most difficult and complicated potions Sirius had ever seen. They had to meet every few afternoons to prepare ingredients or mix test samples and record their results. Sirius had to admit that Snape made a decent teacher. A bit overbearing at times and completely obsessed with detail. However, the boy could be almost pleasant when he wasn't acting like a snarky bastard. Against his will, Sirius found him impressive.

The evening of the next lesson came, and Sirius strolled into the library leaving muddy footprints in his wake. Snape was not pleased to see him.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" Snape barked, as loud as he could without shouting. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago!"

"Quidditch practice ran late. No big deal."

"Quidditch practice? We have more important things to do and you're playing stupid games? Honestly! I didn't think it was possible to see a brick de-evolve any further!"

"Hang on. Quidditch is not stupid!"

"Obviously my partner is! Now sit down and stop wasting my time."

"How can you get so enthusiastic about any of this?" Sirius leafed through an encyclopedia of anti-venoms. "It's so frightfully dull. I just can't get my mind around it."

"That's because you're a lunk, good for carrying large objects and cracking walnuts with that exceedingly thick cranium of yours." Snape pointed at the chart he had written up and tried to explain it again for the hundredth time. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Why don't you think of the potion as a Quidditch game? It has aggregates and catalysts that interact and cause a chemical reaction due to the increase or decrease in energy of the substances involved. You need all the team members performing at their best to make the goal."

Sirius thought about this and it actually made sense. He could see a green field in his mind and all the red and gold colored players on broomsticks racing around, tossing the quaffle back and forth, gaining speed, cleverly feigning a fumble to slip past a chaser in green until––"

"SCOOOOOOORRREE! Another ten points for Gryffindor!"

The entire room was hissing at him. Sirius hadn't noticed that he was on his feet, arms raised in a V over his head. Madame Pinch, the batty old librarian shushed him with a threatening scowl. Snape hid his face behind a book.

"I guess you think I must be an idiot." Sirius quickly found his seat.

"Actually, Black, I believe you to be rather intelligent."

Sirius blinked. "You're having a laugh."

"Even I have to admit it. I've seen the marks you get in Transfiguration. And you Marauders are always sneaking around this school but never seem to get caught. Since nobody is that lucky you must have some sort of sensory device to help you maneuver without detection. That kind of planning deserves some respect, even if I don't approve of the behavior."

Sirius' jaw dropped.

"Unfortunately, then you speak and I am forced back to my original theory that you are merely a simpleton with a secret stash of Felix Felicis."

And Snape's decency had gone as soon as quickly as it had come. Sirius felt the mental slap across the face and wondered how he had let himself be suckered into that so easily. "So, Remus and I were talking this morning," he said while leafing through A Guide Book To Unusual Potions. "Did I mention what a great guy Remus is?"

"On more than one occasion now," Snape said in a bored drawl. "Why do you insist on talking about him all the time? Is he your boyfriend?"

Sirius dropped the book with a loud "thwack!" and received a second reprimand from the librarian. "He… what? No, no, no! Not my… I'm not…. He's single. Very single, if you get me."

"Not really."

Sirius tried to go back to his reading but found that he could not. "And why would you that think he's my boyfriend?"

Snape didn't bother looking up but Sirius could see the hint of a smirk on the Slytherin's face. "Aren't you the girl?"

"WHAT!" The librarian hissed her final warning in his direction. "Why would you… and even if I was, which I'm not, if Remus and I were… why would you assume that I'm the girl?"

"Because you spend more time fixing your hair in the mirror than any girl I know," Snape commented.

"I'm just trying to get my front curl to flip the right way, otherwise it hangs lifeless." Sirius stopped. "This isn't helping me, is it?"

Snape rested his chin on his palm and regarded the Gryffindor with a rare smile before returning to his paper. Sirius noticed the change it produced on the Slytherin's face and he felt strangely warm.

"Well, what about your hair, then?"

"What are you prattling on about now?" Snape asked.

"Your hair. It's always so lank and greasy and without any sort of body or luster."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Are you sure you're not a girl? Blokes don't say things like 'body' and 'luster' about their hair."

"Regardless, those of us who are a bit concerned with our appearance use something called shampoo. Ever heard of it? And you're supposed to be so brilliant with potions. Can't you come up with something to get the grease out? People think––"

"I don't give a damn what people think about me. Only vain fools think that looks are everything, while knowledge is shunted to the side like a plague."

Sirius regarded him in silence for a very long time, and then shrugged. "It just seems to me that someone so obviously brilliant with potions could easily whip up something to help. That is unless you were only exaggerating." He flashed his golden smile.

Snape shot him a murderous look. "I have more important things to work on than something as asinine as my façade. I'll leave that to silly, brainless, pretty-boy peacocks, like yourself."

Sirius was about to retaliate when the comment fully struck him. A broad smile spread across his face until Snape was forced to take notice.

"What?" said the Slytherin, now positively spitting acid.

"So, you think I'm pretty, hun?" Sirius practically sang out loud.

Next thing he knew, Sirius was being chased out of the library by a serious case of Bat-Bogeys.

xXx

Two days later and Sirius still sported the round, yellow-green bruises, courtesy of the Bat Bogey Hex. Not to mention the amount of ribbing he was getting for them from his Housemates. Normally, he would have admired such a finely crafted, persistent spell if it had been aimed at anyone other than himself, and if the caster had been anyone other than Snivellus.

The spell was so good it should have been a Marauder prank, he thought. Sirius was done with lessons for the afternoon and longed to get onto the Quidditch field to work off some pent-up aggression. Peter hustled to match Sirius' pace.

"And it's not like you couldn't have blocked the spell," Peter said in between pants. His chubby face was pink with exertion. "He just caught you off guard, that's all. And you can barely see the marks now, really. You'll get him back, won't you, eh, Padfoot? Eh? I mean, just because he cast one particularly nasty curse doesn't mean that he can make a fool of you. And in front of the entire school, too. Not that anyone thinks you're stupid, mind. Well… could happen to anyone, couldn't it? And those Slytherins just can't be trusted. No sir, not at––"

"Wormtail!" Sirius growled warningly. "Will you give it a rest for a while?"

"Sorry, Pad," Peter gulped. "I just thought I'd get your mind off of it."

"That'll be difficult what with you prattling on."

"You just seem upset is all."

"I'm not upset! The prat got lucky for once. Won't happen again. Next time I see his ugly, greasy face I'll––" Sirius was halfway through explaining what he was planning to do to Snape when the said Slytherin passed right by him in the hallway.

Sirius barely recognized the other boy. Snape was quiet as the grave as usual, but his hair, his hair was straight and shiny and fell around his face in dark, silk curtains.

"S-Snape?" Sirius gasped.

"Black." Snape turned his head just enough to regard the other boy.

"What… ah, what happened to you? You look…." The word "nice" died on his lips. That was crazy talk. Snape did not look nice. He never looked nice.

Until now.

"I look what, Black?" said Snape.

"You, ah, you washed your hair."

"I always wash my hair, dolt! However, in spite of the useless drivel that constantly spews from your mouth, I decided to take you up on your little challenge."

"My…what?"

Snape held up his nose and sniffed in annoyance. "You said that if I was truly brilliant at potions then I could create something to aid my condition. Well, I succeeded." His pale skin took on a slight pinkish tinge. "Not that I care what people say about me nor about my appearance. I only did it to prove to you that I could. Understand?"

Sirius wasn't listening. He wasn't sure what prompted him to do it, but before he knew what he had done one hand reached out and brushed the soft strands between his fingers.

Snape jumped back. Sirius did too. The Slytherin's eyes were wide with shock.

"I… I have a class," Snape muttered.

"Yeah, so do I," Sirius said, forgetting that it was not true. "Well, then. Right."

"Black."

Sirius spun around at the sound of his name.

"You might try some essence of Murtlap for the swelling on your face, before you are confused for a grindylow," Snape said quickly and hurried down the hall until he was lost in the crowd.

Still dazed as to what had just happened Sirius collided with Peter. "Oof. Sorry, mate. Well, let's get down to the green, shall we?" He kept his eyes forward, not wanting to look at his friend right then.

"What exactly was that, Padfoot?" Peter said timidly.

"Hmm? What?"

"That. You touched Snape."

"I did not, and shut up."

"But you touched his hair."

"I said shut it!" He started to walk faster until Peter was practically running to keep up.