With his perfect attendance record, Severus did not know that his plan was about to backfire. The house elf that cleaned the Slytherin dorm rooms found him hanging.

He came to in the hospital wing, under the piercing gaze of two blue eyes. He refused to meet them. "Why?" Dumbledore asked him. What a stupid question . Severus said nothing. He was going to become even more of a joke than he already was. Why couldn't the castle just let him go?

"I confounded the elf. No one needs to know, Mr. Snape. But you must answer, it's for your own good. Why?"

The nerve of this man. My own good. Was putting a silencing charm on me for my own good, too? It certainly would have been more convenient if Potter had simply let the werewolf eat me. Next time, it's the Killing Curse. Prohibiting me from talking, then making me talk. Make up your mind, Dumbledore. What did I do to deserve this?

Severus continued to say nothing, and fixed his gaze as far away from Dumbledore as he could. Dumbledore ordered him to spend his time in the hospital wing if he wasn't in class. Over the next few days, he felt like every portrait in the castle was following him, like he was being watched constantly. At the full moon, he wondered – maybe I'll just get in there and finally die. It'll make Sirius happy, at least. Of course, with my luck, I'll just get infected. He stayed in bed. He skipped classes. He missed meals.

Regulus did not know what to think – whether to be insulted or worried, heartbroken, or angry. Or maybe just forget about the mangy half-blood and focus on something else, anything else. But he sensed there was something about him, something everybody else missed, and he simply could not think of anybody else. Severus Snape had been on his mind since the last dinner the Blacks threw for the examiners, and he was not going anywhere.

Unfortunately, Severus abandoned "their" empty dungeon and Regulus had no idea who to ask where he was. It occurred to him in a flash of horror, that there was one place he did not look – the hospital wing.

He parted the curtain and found his Severus, somehow thinner, even more defeated, yet paradoxically, even more defiant, staring vacantly into space.

"Severus, what are you doing here?"

"Go away".

"You aren't going to classes."

"Go away".

"You aren't eating."

Irritation appeared on the previously expressionless face. "You're not my mother."

I should hope so, Regulus thought.

"Tell me what's going on. No excuses."

How had Severus managed to become even more impassive, even emptier? "Why are you here? Don't you have Quidditch or the Slug Club or something else that's actually important?"

"Because I'm a Black and I get what I want."

That much was irrefutable. But he is not getting an answer out of me. If he has a problem with that, he can take it up with Dumbledore.

"Go want something else then."

"Hey, what did I ever do to you? I never said you were ugly."

"The look on your face said it, inbred."

Regulus swallowed his hurt. "I was worried. What's so hard to… never mind." He got up. To hell with this , he thought, and then a cold hand gently wrapped itself around his arm.

"Don't go."

"Make up your mind".

"Don't go, please".

"Then spill it."

"Please, Reg, just don't go."

"Give me one reason."

With shaking hands, Severus unbuttoned his shirt, and it felt like it took him ten whole minutes, ten minutes of torture and disbelief, ten minutes in which the fingers that were so adept at cutting up potions ingredients trembled too much to work a button… Regulus tried to suppress his disgust – not at Severus, but at whoever did that to him, but it was even worse when he had time to study it. He must have been white as a ghost as he surveyed the landscape of his back and hands. "Is my brother…" he managed to whisper.

"No."

"Then who –" who would do that to you, who do I need to kill – and Severus answered: "The Muggle."

"What Muggle? Filch? He's a Squib."

"My filthy father, toad-brain! Not all of us have never met a Muggle before we came to King's Cross!"

All Regulus heard was that his father treated him worse than a house elf, the rest of it went over his head. Impotent anger rose in him and through his fisted hands – so this is how the Muggles treat their children? Severus started to button his shirt back up – much faster than he took it off, of course – "Severus, please," Regulus whispered. "Can I stay here?"

Severus gave a small nod, still looking down.

Regulus climbed onto the bed – it was really only big enough to fit one person comfortably – and he held his Severus, hands around his waist, with one hand sometimes exploring the uneven surface of his skin, but for most of the night, he only held him, his soft breath on the back of his neck, his heart beating through his chest so that he was sure Severus could feel it inside his own body. Severus shivered and shivered and shivered, and they did not move until they fell asleep, and the gray dawn found them exactly like that, and when they woke up, with stiff muscles from the unnatural position, neither of them could believe it.