Harry/Sirius slash, review! Slash ahoy! Do, please, review :)
I Do Not Own Harry Potter
{Chapter Thirteen}
Neither had said anything for a while, until Harry gestured for him to sit on his bed. Sirius moved silently and sat down, nerves starting to work in overdrive when Harry sat directly next to him, face turned to his with such an intense sort of look, Sirius again, could not quantify whatever feelings he induced in the other to get him to look at him in the manner that he did.
"It's not about - hotness - never that," he swallowed thickly, doing his best to swat away the dream he'd had in the Great Hall - the last thing he needed to do was think of his godfather, and shook his head a bit, as he too induced uncomfortable and illicit feelings. He felt like he had to correct Sirius a bit though - properly.
"You're handsome, alright? You're handsome now, you'll be handsome when you're older, and Merlin knows I'll probably find you handsome when you're old, balding and need a cane," he confessed, in such a way that Sirius felt his face tinge pink - people called him fit before, sexy even, or well gorgeous, but none with such firm reverence over him - and such assiduity that they'd like him even as he aged - which was honestly something he never really thought about.
"So please don't think it's about that,"
Sirius let out a sigh of relief "-right, so...then what...?" face still red "-what are we then, huh? I mean I've not been subtle about what I want,"
Harry snorted - certainly not, and was quiet for a moment, trying to frame the words he'd had sloshing around in the back of his mind since the Great Hall incident.
"Right, right, it's just-" he glanced down at his hands "I'm not even used to liking blokes, I'm not even widely experienced in general, not as much as a guy my age should be any way,"
"I wouldn't rush you or anything!" Sirius butted in, hungry to prove himself.
"Sirius," Harry let out a soft, exasperated noise "-I'd be lying if I said I don't feel anything, Merlin knows I do,"
"I felt it," Sirius added with a crooked smirk while Harry turned redder and carried on - knowing he was referring to when they'd slept side by side as humans and he felt all of him against his body.
"But look," he rubbed his eyes "-I've got things to do in this war - for Albus, for myself, for the good fight, I'm already involved - I was involved long before you met me - I'm a danger, I'd put you in danger - more danger than usual, I've lost my entire family Sirius including one I was trying to make - I almost had a wife, she cheated on me, I had a godson, he's gone, I had a godfather of my own, he died," he stammered, glancing away "-I had parents, they died before I knew them, I had relatives who despised me - and now they're gone, all of my friends are dead," he balked - 'or unborn' he added silently. "I have nothing and no one, I'm not someone you want to be with if you just want to knock boots in broom cupboards,"
"I have you guys now and I was frightened half to death that you'd be hurt or worse when the attack on Hogsmeade happened, it's why I was screaming at you guys to go, I know you're capable fighters but I feel old and I am tired, okay?" his green eyes were downcast, his voice, usually melodic and casual, was gravelly and bleak.
Sirius didn't say anything, and just stared at Harry, his dark eyes unwilling to part with the emotions broiling beneath to give any indication as to what he was thinking.
"Sirius Black, I don't know if you're understanding what I'm saying,"
Again, nothing, no indication, no greenlight, nothing.
"Sirius I'm still trying to get my head around this, around you, around not being alone anymore, Merlin - do you think I want to be alone?" Snape's words came to mind, and Dumbledore's sad, sad, long and loveless life, his stomach hurt thinking about it, and it was getting tougher and harder to think about.
"Of course I don't, Sirius, do I look like a man that wants to live like a fucking eunuch?" the swearing jolted him out of his daze, and he shook his head a negative, unable to raise a word from his mouth, still petrified from where this conversation could be heading - a no return on the Rejection Railway, probably.
"I don't have the strength, or the will for that, and I don't want it, even if it hurts later down the line, with fights, with losing people, losing you - the way I've lost everything so far -" Sirius opened his mouth to say something only to feel a soft finger hushing his lips.
"No, let me finish," he inhaled sharply and continued.
"Even if it hurts, even if it hurts me for the rest of my life, I still want to take the risk, and take the gamble, because I don't want to be alone forever - few people do. But I don't do love affairs or trophy-boyfriend stuff, I don't do casual and the reason I don't go as far with betrothals and stuff is because I don't even know if I can promise I'll be alive to keep any promises I make. If we do anything, you have to know that. You have to know I'd take whatever we have and take it seriously, just because we don't know how it'll turn out in the future, doesn't mean we don't have one, it's just that nothing is guaranteed, but that doesn't mean it's not worth the effort, but this is how it'd be - being with me that is,"
"It's effort, it's uphill, I'm nothing great Sirius, nothing like what you deserve, you can do better," said Harry earnestly "-For all that struggle you get someone who needs more warning labels and caveats than a seventh year potion guide,"
He waited for Sirius to reply, and again was met with nothing.
The silence was going to kill him, that look that Sirius was giving him that he just could not read, it made the words harder coming out, like he was chewing on glass between sentences.
"Sirius I have more baggage than a Knockturn Alley pawnshop," he managed, still being given an utterly blank look "-you can take days, weeks, months - we have this year, next year - you have that long to think about it, but I play for keeps Sirius, I'm too exhausted for anything else, do you understand?" at least, Sirius nodded - understanding that, but the lack of verbal acquiesce made Harry frown - he wanted him to say something - anything - really.
"Sirius, say something now or at least stop looking at me like that,"
After a moment, he cleared his throat - face still tinged with red - though now it was deepening and moving to his ears, which were burning under his black hair with enough redness to put a Weasley to shame - he was good at flirting, but he was never good with raw and blunt feelings like this, heavy weighted conversation was not his forte.
"I'm ah..." he swallowed audibly "-I'm still waiting to hear a valid reason not to be with you," as if everything he'd just said hadn't put him off - at all.
"You can do so much better," said Harry, his voice just slightly higher than it was before, Sirius shook his head in exasperation.
"Shut up with that, just, shut up..." he mumbled "I can't, and if I could, I wouldn't wanna, do you have to fight everything all of the damn time, Harry?" there was a hint of a whine to his voice, but the tension did not loosen. "Just because of my reputation doesn't mean I can't do commitment, I can! I just..."
"I never really found the right fit, and none of those other people I've been with look at me the way that you do, and I'm not sure if anyone will, what in the hell do you see in me?"
"I should be asking you that!" retorted Harry, flustered "-just...think before you leap, okay? Whatever you decide, my feelings aren't the kind that'll change easily, I don't know that I ever could explain it to you, the kind of..." he glanced away - vaguely aware of sounding like something that'd be nailed to the wall of Madame Puddifoots "-the kind of feelings I have for you transcend lifetimes Sirius," mumbled more to himself than Sirius.
Sirius wasn't sure he understood that, and it looked like one of those things Harry wasn't going to explain.
"I think I need to get some air now anyway, that's all I wanted to say, I'll see you in a bit," Harry rose up off the bed, brushing his robes off a bit and turning for the door, stretching his back a bit - who knew spilling your guts could actually get that exhausting? Still, at least the air was sort of clear - and the ball would be in Sirius's court now - he just needed to let one quiet night pass between them and things would get back to somewhat normal until Sirius had an answer and everything would be fine. At least, he hoped.
"Think carefully, because if you do - everything changes Sirius, and there'll be no hope of running in this war, because Albus intends to throw me headfirst in it and it is my goal to do that, for example - if you changed your mind and wanted to dump England after graduation and leave this war in your dust, I will not be able to go with you,"
"Everything will change Sirius, so think."
He moved over to the dorm door and opened it in a swift movement, jumping back when a handful of teenagers tumbled out - ear first - James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, with most of them having the gall to look sheepish at being caught eavesdropping so obviously, Harry didn't bother with the confrontation - elegantly stepping over the fallen Marauders and heading out for Gryffindor Common.
There was something important he had to do, with Sirius or not.
He roamed up and down the empty corridor, willing the Room of Requirement to appear - he'd given up going home now, and it was evident Hogwarts wasn't sending him back anyway, but there was something he needed to do.
'I need a room where people hide their treasures.'
'I need a room where people hide their treasures.'
'I need a room where people hide things!'
A door eventually materialised, and upon opening it, it was reminiscent to entering a storage room, filled to the brim with tat, junk and a distinct lack of treasure like the last time he'd demanded this room from the Room of Requirement.
Harry's knees hit the ground, and he began a frantic rummage for what spanned hours - when a summoning charm did not work. The object he was looking for could almost sense him coming, as he'd strode indoors with purpose - the item did not want to be found, as though detecting its doom. His hands rifled through ruined books and candelabras, outdated tunics that looked like the belonged to the medieval era, and dated copper coins. Harry frowned, the copper wasn't even worth anything. He poached a manacle he'd found - purely because he was poor and without a single thing except debt to Dumbledore. There didn't appear to be any dark enchantments on it, but he didn't put it on. He observed it in his hands and furrowed his brow a little.
It was distracting him from his search - maybe he could pawn it? He could always do with the cash, he considered it. It was gold - it couldn't be pure gold though, could it? There was something unsettling about it. It felt like it could be a horcrux - oddly enough, but...not, he didn't know how to describe it, but it felt like - well, if he could describe it, something antithetical to what he was looking for. There was no malice in the object, but it certainly seemed...alive.
He had to test if it was really gold and not just plated or something, it felt heavy enough to be, but there were ways pawnshops could tell - as could Gringotts appraisers. It was also a handy spell to know to make sure you weren't being conned or given leprechaun gold.
"Puritatem," waving his wand in an odd loop forward and back, a small gold light burst from his wand to the manacle, and misty words - much like when casting Tempus in the air, began to form.
ITEM IMPURE
68 PERCENT GOLD
32 PERCENT UNKNOWN
Harry cocked a brow, well it'd be decently valuable in muggle cash but not in galleons, and the exchange rate could help with that but he doubted he'd be able to get out much to the muggle world or indeed out of Hogwarts until he'd squared things with the headmaster and the threat level reduced.
There were odd little symbols etched along the top and bottom, so small that Harry could barely read them through the grime and didn't know a magnification charm, the manacle was quite dirty too, and he was hesitant to cast a scourgify on it, because it felt like it beat with a natural kind of magic that barely allowed the purity test on the metal. Hm.
He pocketed the dirty object and began his rifling, there was some relief in not seeing the vanishing cabinet - but still, if he saw it again - he'd destroy it utterly. He'd put things off long enough, he hadn't even addressed the Voldemort situation before it came to him and made itself known in Hogsmeade. Eventually he found a few stacks of paper in the ruined books, and frowned a bit.
Harry plucked out the papers and found it to be an outdated Daily Prophet, but what got his attention - was the fact Voldemort's name was on it, in print.
'A NEW DARK LORD?'
'Grindelwald's cell door has barely been closed and another rises in the ashes in the wake of war, it seems our fragile years of peace are about to come to an end. An attack on Little Hangleton occurred late last night where a terrorist group referred to as 'Death Eaters' have been seen to regularly convene where muggles have been regularly disappearing. The new Dark Lord, referring to himself as Lord Voldemort, has steadily been rising in power since the fall of Grindelwald at the hands of Albus Dumbledore.
For the past month, muggle disappearances have spiked by 67% and now we finally see why in the wake of the devastation.'
His eyes moved down, glossing over the article which seemed to be printing death counts and injury numbers - to one picture, of figures with their backs turned in long black cloaks. Harry sighed, remembering Voldemort's degeneration - through Albus's memories, it showed it was rather gradual, but it was starting to have a physical effect. He had to talk about it to the headmaster, he decided - no more putting it off.
Finally, he found what he was looking for, and dragged himself to Albus's office.
Albus didn't expect to see Harry again so soon, not after embarrassing him so utterly, but to have him stinking of dark magic - enough that the curious magical devices on his desk began whirring in overdrive, and Fawkes let out a disconcerted noise. He kept ahold of his wand in his sleeve, lips pursed a bit - when Fawkes was wary, that was a problem. What he didn't expect, was for Harry to throw Lady Ravenclaw's diadem on his desk, all of the objects on Dumbledore's desk turning attention to it, almost glaring at the offending item, reeking of the dark magic.
"Harry, is this what I think it is?" there was a statue of Lady Ravenclaw in the Ravenclaw dorms, of her sporting her diadem, it looked awfully like that, but they'd never recovered it.
"It's Lady Ravenclaw's diadem," said Harry curtly, folding one leg over the other.
"What's wrong with it? It seems rather...foul," Albus frowned as Harry nodded in agreement, as Harry touched it without much issue, he picked it up against his own better judgement - it was still a founder's heirloom after all, and observed it in slight awe, he never thought he'd get to see this thing again.
"Wit beyond measure, is man's greatest treasure," he murmured to himself, fingers running over the gems.
"Why is this so tainted, my boy? Where did you find it?"
Harry paused, wondering how to phrase it, before shaking his head and going for the blunt approach.
"It's a horcrux," and just like that, the diadem fell out of his hands, and the usually unflappable Albus Dumbledore was incredibly startled, hearing a word that by all rights, Harry shouldn't know about, and looked at him warily, ignoring Phineas's portrait gasp.
"Not mine," he said in an obvious tone, before glancing up at him.
"Tom Riddle's,"
"We need to talk, Albus, and it cannot wait,"
Hepzibah Smith had died, apparantly, according to Albus - the same time she did in Harry's world: 1946. She was long dead, which meant Slytherin's locket and Helga Hufflepuff's cup were already horcruxes, apparently, poor Mr Burke was still mourning her after all these years, it was strange thinking that the shopkeepers of such a seedy place possessed feelings, it wasn't something Harry contemplated, but he found himself rather uncomfortable. For all her doting upon Tom Riddle, Hepzibah Smith paid the price, though it explained how she gathered such a collection - apprenticing and working under Borgin and Burke.
"It was her death that led to at least one of those horcruxes being able to hold soul, likely the cup, the poor dame, a little silly but an otherwise good girl," said Dumbledore with a little frown "-I always thought it odd that her house elf was accused of her murder, she'd never be the type to abuse her elves - perhaps run them ragged but not abuse them, certainly not enough for an elf to snap and rebound to horribly as to murder her master, but I suppose the justice system has never been fair. I aim to change that," Dumbledore sighed, stroking his beard with a mournful expression.
Hepzibah was not by any stretch, a bright witch, she was in fact - incredibly vain and an utter hoarder, but it didn't mean she deserved to die, and people did miss her, and she certainly did not deserve to die to become a horcrux.
"The cup was transferred to Lestrange's vault, who was then married to Bellatrix at the time - so it went directly under her care under the marital name, from what you tell me Albus, their betrothal is still contracted to happen but that means the cup isn't with her, obviously. There isn't much magic coming from the diadem beyond it hiding from me, it's rather passive and I've noticed that happening to horcruxes over time, we may have a harder time with objects that don't want to be found," mused Harry, prodding the diadem with his wand.
"Miss Bellatrix Black graduated and is a known member of Voldemort's supporters and still working up to second in command, his organisation though brutal and widespread is not as advanced as it was when you knew it," commented the headmaster.
"That leaves the cup in limbo, the next was Slytherin's locket, it was in the care of Regulus Black who pretty much naffed it from its hiding spot to destroy it but failed, I know where that'll be - in a seaside cave, me and you - that is to say - other you visited it, it's guarded by inferus - Regulus suffered that fate by defecting at the last second. I am seeing to it that this does not happen again," Dumbledore looked grave at this - if he could possibly turn worse, and was close to hanging his head in his hands - he'd long suspected Tom capable of this, but to have the evidence sitting on his desk...
"How many times did Tom shatter his soul in your world?" asked Dumbledore, in the smallest, most despairing tone Harry had heard in a while.
"Seven, Albus. Exactly seven, apart from the accidental one he'd made in myself which I'd destroyed at the final battle," said Harry gravely.
"Mystic number seven..." he sighed, voice trailing off "-you feel no connection to this world's Voldemort?"
"No sir, my useful parseltongue ability is gone too - never thought I'd say this, but I'll have to work around that or try to get it back somehow, at least, to destroy Slytherin's locket - and take care of the beast slumbering in the school,"
Dumbledore faltered.
"Excuse me?"
"The Chamber of Secrets - remember I mentioned it? I ah, might have neglected to mention the basilisk in there,"
Dumbledore let out an unelegant sound, eyes wide - thanking whatever powers that be that basilisks slumbered for thousands of years and that none had attacked his students, a basilisk, a basilisk in the school - it simply could not remain. He silently got a quill out and began scratching things down - it seemed he and Harry had plans to get under way and the Hogsmeade attack was the catalyst.
"It was the basilisk that killed Myrtle, I said it was Tom, which is true - but the actual killing act was done by the basilisk, on his orders,"
"I always knew it was never Rubeus..." the older man groaned, rubbing his temples - that was why he'd offered Hagrid an apprenticeship under Ogg and to live on Hogwarts grounds, he was the living definition of the term gentle giant and the fact he even had time served in Azkaban for it - even if it was just a few months - was deplorable.
"We'll discuss the Chamber in greater depth at a later date, now, seven - founder heirlooms too, we have the diadem, there's Slytherin's locket, Helga's cup, and...?"
"The Gaunt family ring and Tom's diary from his school years. His other horcrux was his pet Nagini but that was with the murder of Ms Bertha Jorkins in 1994, so that wont be happening either. I will need your help Albus, I haven't the foggiest where Tom's diary or the Cup will be, but the Gaunt ring..." he faltered.
"I'd have to do that without you,"
Albus shot up an eyebrow "-Really, my boy? You couldn't possibly...well, perhaps you could, but dealing with horcruxes alone is not ideal, they prey on weakness Harry, it is always best to do it with more than one person."
"It's a Hallow," Harry blurted, ignoring the sound of one of Dumbledore's devices flashing red to show the gargoyle had moved for somebody with the password.
"It's the Resurrection Stone," he said carefully, watching realization dawn in Dumbledore's eyes before they were replaced with hope, desperation and greed, all in a fleeting moment, before returning to an empty twinkle.
"Summoning a Shade from another universe as you might, might be too chaotic, or anger Death to demand such a thing," he said in a gravelly tone "-you really should let me accompany you for that,"
...Please...
...Just a little water...
...please...
A decaying, withered old arm came to mind and suddenly Harry felt a bile in his throat, and honestly, summoning the shades again didn't even come to his head.
"Albus, no. You are a great man and I respect you but no, it's too much for you, I shouldn't have even mentioned it," said Harry in a tempered tone, sensing the situation begin to escalate - if just the mere mention of it was enough to tempt the man, it was all the more reason not to let him anywhere near the Gaunt ring, he didn't know if young Snape had the capabilities of his older self to produce anything to slow down the curse on the ring if it was worn this time around either.
"I'm still your senior, I believe I am more than capable - and who are you to deprive me the right to-"
"ALBUS. IT. WILL. KILL. YOU. It got the better of you before and I'm not letting it happen again!" Harry stood upright, drilling the man with the most serious look he could muster, even Fawkes stopped pecking at the food dish infront of the bird stand.
"You don't get to leave the world behind - me behind - that's not fair and you know it! You did it before when I needed you the most to pick up after you and I'm not letting you leave me behind again - you did it when I was little and you're doing it now! You did it when I was young because you couldn't bare the thought of getting too close to me so you let me stay with relatives who tried to beat the magic clear out of me. You did it again when you let the ring overtake you, and left us all, well not again!"
He sucked in a sharp breathe, stopping his voice from shaking at his old mentor, trying not to be too harsh for crimes this world's Albus had not done.
"I don't care if you keep me at arm's length for the rest of your life," because you're too scared to love after Grindelwald and even more frightened to love family after Ariana, and estranged Aberforth.
"I love you, you old fart, so I'm not letting you come within five feet of anything that's going to bloody well kill you!" yelled Harry, red-faced and finding himself losing his volume control for a moment, as a voice awkwardly cleared their throat and came from the doorway.
"...Bad time?" it was James Potter, who was looking wide-eyed - wondering what on earth he'd walked in on, between Harry shouting red-faced that something will apparently kill the headmaster, a funny looking tiara on the desk, and Dumbledore, looking equally out of sorts.
"I suppose that's why you mastered them, selfless use," mused Dumbledore, before turning to James, utterly calmly.
"Not at all, Harry was just leaving,"
Harry glared at the man, and pointed at him rudely.
"This conversation is not over," before turning his heel and leaving in what could only be described as a huff, leaving Dumbledore to tuck the diadem away - they both knew they couldn't destroy it yet anyway, the moment they did, the Master Soul - i.e Voldemort, would know, so they had to bide their time a little.
James was in shock that somebody could talk to the headmaster so...so rudely, and went over to him meekly, having been sent up by McGonagall for hexing someone teasing Muller, quite literally giving them a runny nose - which took half an hour to catch, and stringing said student up on a statue by his underwear. Harry figured he'd wait outside for James, knowing the guy would want answers if not now, then at the dorm, and had to speak to him anyway.
He had his misgivings about what he was going to ask of them, but Dumbledore's words had resonated with him.
It was best not to face a horcrux alone.
"No!" was the immediate response from James, outraged as the pair walked down past the gargoyle, once James had received a stern talking to by the headmaster, and a healthy dose of lemon drops for his trouble.
"Not with Snivellous!" he glared out at the corridor ahead of them.
"I'm sure he'd feel the same about it once I approach him too, but this isn't about you, and I don't have anyone else I can trust,"
"You wouldn't even trust him if he wasn't indebted to you," grumbled James.
"I would," said Harry in a simple tone, unwilling to elaborate why as they headed up to the Gryffindor Tower - Harry stopped at the portrait of the Fat Lady, and gave James a serious look.
"If you want to know what happened between me and Albus, you will," said Harry warningly "-I need to go find Snape. I need all of you guys to be on best behaviour and not hex each other blind, okay? I know you're in a truce and not friends by any stretch but this is beyond all of your shit, alright?" he all but snapped, and James seemed taken aback, and not really understanding the riddles his friend was talking in.
"I need you, Remus, Sirius and Peter to meet me and Snape in the busted girl's toilets - where Moaning Myrtle haunts. It's one of few places portraits don't bother with. Myrtle will know not to bother you, I mean it, it - is - serious, and if you can't put aside the petty shit between you two then I'll know that I can never trust any of you," he stressed.
James faltered - and knew that Sirius would probably kill him if he said no, but he was not content with this.
"What do you mean it's 'above' all this? What you and Dumbledore were talking about?"
"It's about the war, and put aside any misgivings you have about Severus being a Death Eater in training would you? Everything will be clear, if you're man enough to go and to stick to your word. I'll make sure Severus behaves if you do, I know he won't be happy about it either, but once I let him know what it's about on a broader level I know he'll put it aside. Just...please, now I have to go catch him before he leaves Slughorn's classroom,"
And just like that, Harry left a very confused James Potter in his dust.
He suddenly felt like he was encroaching on very adult business, and he wasn't sure he knew how to take it, and if it involved the war - if he should write and bother his elderly parents with it. Either way, he planned on penning them a letter, something he didn't do unless he had to warn them in advance that he was in serious trouble at school anyway.
He quietly made his way to his dorm room, head swimming with thoughts and quickly penning something to his father.
'Dear Dad,
I know I only write to you when I'm trouble but I have something I need to ask you about because I can't ask Sirius and Remus is half-blood, and Peter doesn't know either. What is the significance of dumping a family heirloom on someone who isn't family by blood or common law? I mean, usually I don't care about that stuff or kids that play politics cus frankly that's boring and if you're doing that while you're still in school you're way too high strung.
Anyways! I'm rambling aren't I? Sorry Pops.
Well, after the attack on Hogsmeade, my friend - the one who was fighting all those Death Munchers with Prof Bancroft - he walked in on the Black family with the headmaster. Regulus, Lady Walburga and Lord Orion - Sirius was there out of obligation I think and because of what went down. But anyway, something happened between Lord Black and Harry, because Harry has that funny scarf-turban thing. You know the one, right? Lord Black wore it a few Yules ago at the Shafiq gala as a turban - deep blue with a bunch of tiny little gems in it I think. Well, Harry has it now, and said he gave it to him as payment for saving Regulus from the Death Eater attack and everything he did. Except, I'm sure heirlooms aren't considered acceptable for something like that, it's why they aren't given for absolution of Life Debts or something.
I know Lord Black wouldn't be that improper and I'm sort of sorry I never paid attention in etiquette now (but don't tell mum I said that), but I know it means something but I don't know what. It's really valuable but not proper to be considered payment for Regulus's safety, the only thing for that is like, a physical promise - like indenturing your family to serve the other's as thanks - but I know Lord Black would never do that (not for Harry whose a muggleborn nonhuman especially) so I'm a bit stuck. It's been bothering me and Remus doesn't even know and is too stressed by his illness to look it up along with school work so I thought I'd ask you.
Get back to me soon.'
James considered adding Harry roping them into something war related, but he knew how shaken Dorea and Charlus could get, and shook his head, opting not to.
'Your loving and confused son,
James,'
James made his way to the Owlry and began to hunt down his friends, Peter and Remus - both agreed to come with much less fight, Sirius was utterly pensive, sitting in Gryffindor Common in a shadowy corner with an imperceptible expression, cogs turning in his mind with Muller excitedly chatted - something about ventilation charms - as James cut through.
He expected the most fight from Sirius, and was floored a little disappointed when he just grunted and nodded, before saying "Fine."
Sirius's need for answers outweighed his dislike for Snape.
Harry said he'd be involved in this war, and if he had to have Snape there when he came clean, fine, it'd help him make a decision on the choice Harry had given him earlier.
Time to find out what baggage he had, exactly.
"No!" was the immediate answer from Snape, until Harry silenced him with a look and a chilling stare, the same he'd delivered to Dumbledore when he'd pined to seek the Resurrection Stone with him, if it was enough to silence a man as great as he, it certainly put a young, impertinent Snape in his place.
"Your loyalty is to me, is it not? You've sworn yourself to me, you don't have to like them but I'd appreciate the continuing civility."
"The civility only works because we ignore each other!"
"Severus!" Harry hissed through his teeth "-now is your chance to become something greater than yourself, and I trust you like I trust few others. I trust you to put your feelings to one side for the greater good and I even trust you more than I trust Albus. I trust you and I respect you, and I will get the others to do the same. I need you, I need your knowledge, and I need your help - by my side. I need all of you," his voice became low and serious "-because now you're aligned to a side despite your best attempts not to, and now it's time to act, do you trust me?"
"I trust your power," said Snape carefully after a moment "-not even the Dark Lord can regrow limbs with his bare hands, much less permanently severed ones, but my feelings don't matter, my magic is indentured to you," he paused "-I'm just lucky I'm indentured to someone who doesn't make me dance around naked or something."
Harry balked at that, and Snape smirked a bit.
"You wouldn't, would you?"
"If it meant keeping my magic flowing..." he trailed off, sniggering at Harry's horror - which was finally Harry's telltale sign that Snape, again, was taking the piss - and seemed to greatly enjoy doing that.
"Gryffindors are so easy to mess with,"
"Oh shut up,"