Disclaimer: JKR owns these fine characters. I just borrowed them for a little while and I promise to put them back. Written for fun, not profit.

A/N It has not been beta read so all the mistakes are mine and mine alone.

Chapter 12

It took ages for the boy to calm down. Once he did, I took him to the bathroom to wash up and then to his bed. He was exhausted, still snivelling from time to time and holding on to me tightly. Too tightly in fact. I ignored what I fervently hoped was not a grope and sat at the foot of his bed until it appeared to me that he'd finally fallen asleep.

I'm a worse person than I like to think. I did not stop thinking of Severus for one second. I hardly paid any attention to what the boy was saying to me and answered with murmured reassurances that apparently applied.

The room is dark. I light my wand, looking furtively at Snape's direction. There is no reaction.  I can only see his hair. He usually sleeps on his back, as though laid for his eternal rest. At least Remus had gotten him to stop crossing his arms over his chest. That had been entirely too much.

No corpselike calm tonight. He is curled into himself, face pressed into his clenched fists… hardly ideal position for a restful sleep. His legs are drawn up, it is as though he's trying to occupy as little space on the bed as possible. I stare longer, steeling myself for he moment he will wake up and yell at me.

I whisper his name… when did his name become beautiful in my ears? "Ssseverusss you ssslimy Ssslytherin," I remember James and myself calling to him in a parody of parseltongue, ridiculing his family's tenuous claim to Salazar Slytherin's bloodline… A claim that I wouldn't even know about had it not been for my father.

My sainted Auror father, calling for genocide against those "inbred murdering bastards", in his house robe, sitting in front of the fire. Snapes, Malfoys, Lestranges… all those who had never really left Grindelwald's side.

My prophetic Auror father who knew it was only a matter of time before a new Dark Lord would rise from Grindelwald's ashes.

It is no use blaming him… my poor Auror father who died believing his son a traitor and murderer. It had been his house, his fire, his son and all he would do was vent his rage at the people he was forced to encounter, day in, day out, knowing they'd killed his friends during the War and would kill again, given the chance.

So I had taunted the "ssslimy Ssslytherin" who had never said anything himself about being related to the Founder of his House. I had carried my father's hatred like a torch.

"Severus," I whisper again and kneel next to his bed. I reach to stroke the dark hair, resting my head on the side of his pillow. He flinches and pulls back from my touch.

I do not pressure him but I don't leave his side either.

"He's wrong, you know. You did help Remus."

"Leave me alone," he murmurs.

"Justin said it to get to you. He couldn't imagine how much, of course. He's very sorry," I say quietly even though it appeared to me that the young werewolf was mostly sorry for himself and not at how he had hurt his unpleasant old Potions Master.

I get up, keeping back a heavy sigh. I wish he were yelling at me and trying to hex me instead of this apathy.

I stare at the ceiling for one hour… two hours… two centuries… Who is he fooling? I have studied his breathing. I know he too is awake.

Yet I do sleep at some point, for how long, I am not sure. And what wakes me is so close to a dream I'm afraid to trust it. I do not think myself a coward but I don't dare let him see I am no longer asleep. He sits carefully on the side of my bed. As usual I'm on my face, arms and legs spread out, it's a miracle he finds enough space.

I gather my courage and slowly turn to face him. His eyes glimmer in the dark. I hold his gaze. I'm tired of these staring contests of his. Not this time. He came to my bed. I will not look away this time. He breaks eye contact first. I take little joy in my victory. I feel him getting ready to get up again, to leave me, so I reach and close my hand around his wrist.

So delicate, the bones shifting inside my hand, a rapid pulse beating against my fingers for a moment. I love his wrists. His ankles too. I love every single joint in his body. Even his bony knees and his sharp elbows. His knuckles… I could write a poem for every single one. Is there a name for people like me?

He lets me draw him to my arms. I try to kiss him but he avoids my lips. He presses his face against my neck, his warm breath making me shiver. Too soon he moves lower, over my bare chest, lower, with single-minded determination. I will not pretend I haven't spent a large part of the past month dreaming of him in my bed but I would have been glad just to kiss him. Just to have him lie next to me and let me touch him.

I want to tell him all that but his mouth on me empties my mind completely. He does kiss down there, over the thin cotton of my boxer shorts. He pulls down the barrier impatiently and swallows me. I half succeed in keeping back a cry. He stops. Part of me wants him to stop for good… I wanted him again but not like that, not silent, not like he could be anyone in the dark.

Lust wins and I thrust gently, trying to get him to pick up from where he had left off.

"Please, Sev," I whisper since brushing against his still half open mouth hadn't worked.

"Be quiet," he snaps. And I realise he wants me to be completely silent. No names, no pointless tenderness just this… this that my body accepts most gladly as he closes his mouth around me again. I try to focus only on what he's doing, on warm pleasure that doesn't quite ease the hollow feeling in my heart.

Too soon it's over. It had been a while. He knows. Remus had been in a coma for about a month when I'd asked – I'd fucking asked! – Severus to spend the night with me. To be told that I was welcome to go to one of my Hogsmeade whore - one would I think I had a whole harem - to ease the tension. And I think I had screamed that I didn't need his bloody permission and I had gone and gotten utterly pissed at Hogsmeade. There had been no whores involved. Just a pretty witch who had listened kindly to my drunken ramblings and who I'd been shocked the next morning to recognize as one of my seventh years.

I reach to reciprocate somehow. My hands brush against his hair, his shoulders, his knobbly spine. His hair tickles on my stomach as he raises his head.

Unthinking I close my fist in the dark strands. To keep him from leaving me. To get him to look at me. Just to hurt him. All three apply, I suspect. I pull until he's eye level with me. Closed eyes, how dare he! Lips pressed together, stubborn as I lick to part them. I taste where they've been, salty and bitter. Not innocent lips, not by far. Poison lips, perhaps it is best that he won't open his mouth. Who knows what he would say?

I taste a different saltiness against my own lips, the back of my throat. Stupid, useless tears. I thought I was done with those. He's rigid in my arms, unforgiving. I reach and grab harshly between his legs. I know he won't be hard. Fucking martyr! Remus knew enough of the memories it would awake to hardly ever allow Snape to do that for him. I'm not supposed to know anything. Or care.

I tighten my grip. He breathes in sharply. I'm hurting him, I know I am but he doesn't fight me. There is some movement in my hand. If I hurt him enough I might even manage to get him off.

I yank his hair back and bite on his neck. I let go of his hair and viciously pinch a nipple through his nightshirt… a definite stir. Closed eyes and mouth pulled back in a soundless snarl… a passive weight in my arms, still in his ugly white nightshirt. No special pains now that it's only me… no silk pyjamas, kind words, the occasional smile.

I move my hand on him, quickly, and feel him stiffen in my palm. His breathing hitches then he exhales suddenly, a silent moan. Quiet… he's good at that. Even when he reaches his climax there's no more than a heavy sigh.

Is that all I'll ever get?

He gets off me. He stays sitting on the bed for a moment, looking down, his hair hiding his face. He shakes his head resolutely and gets up.

Familiar sounds from the bathroom, a piss, a shower… a not so familiar soft moan as the sound of running water stops for a little while. Quickly, it is muffled again as he turns on the shower once more.

I pretend to be asleep when he comes out, in a long white towel. By his bed, he's naked for a moment then another nightshirt protects his decency from me, grey that one. Fumbling on his nightstand, bottles jingling… it stops as he finally finds the bottle he had refused to touch yesterday. There's solace in the little purple bottle, solace I obviously couldn't offer.

I should be pleased, of course. I got him to take his medicine.

I fight against the urge to transform, here as I lie on my bed. It smells so strongly of him now Padfoot would probably go insane. I'll deal with this on two legs. A cleaning charm, for one, to take away the tempting scent.

I steal a glance to his bed. He's on his back, asleep as his peaceful breathing tells me. I follow its rhythm and before long, sleep claims me. Uneasy sleep, jumping from dream to dream and in all of them I'm chasing someone but cannot catch him in the dark. I call to him but he doesn't hear me…. So subtle, my subconscious, I have to admire it…

I wake up, my sheets are a sweat-soaked bundle, my covers on the floor. It is no use. It's dark outside but the new day has officially started. Five thirty in the morning is too early even for an early riser, which I'm not. It doesn't matter. It's that or hitting Severus' unmarked purple bottle for some of his untroubled sleep. With my luck I'd probably overdose and spend the fortnight in a coma. Not a bad way of dealing with the way the greasy git's been treating me but I wouldn't be much use to Justin.

Just a look at him is all it takes. His face, so pale, so peaceful, almost childish in sleep. Will I ever tire of looking at him? I think I know when I fell in love with him… won't I fall out of love? Won't I just look at him at one moment and not feel my insides shift? I lean and kiss his brow. There's no reaction. I could slip in his bed and he probably wouldn't know. I'm not that desperate… Yet.

I make my way to the kitchen, that Muggle realm of mysterious appliances and overfull cupboards. I had explored them yesterday, studied the colourful boxes and tins proclaiming that all you have to do is "Add water", "Microwave for X minutes" or just "open and consume". Slowly I put together my first meal for the day.

Sitting on the table I look up and unless I fell asleep on top of my breakfast, I'm looking at Dumbledore.

"Albus?"

"I thought I'd check up on you."

"Was… was it safe to apparate here?" I mumble.

He gives me a kind smile. "Of course it is. It would have been safe for you and Severus as well." He sits heavily on the chair opposite me.

"That paranoid idiot!"

"I advised against it." A short pause. "I didn't want Severus to understand that he's still too weak to manage it."

It is a while before I manage to get some air in my lungs. "So you sent him on a mission like that? Without a wand, unable to apparate…"

"And with you by his side. He had to leave Hogwarts, Sirius, you know that."

I shake my head. Dumbledore, master manipulator. It's not news to me. He never owned Remus and myself the way he owns Severus. And even now that the war is over, that Sev has paid back tenfold for his past sins, he still belongs to Dumbledore. My dog part understands perfectly that kind of loyalty. The rest of me isn't so quick to follow suit.

Some of my resentment must have shown in my expression. "You care for him very deeply," Albus states. There's satisfaction in his tone.

I have no reply to that.

"I can't say it was a development I had foreseen but it pleases me very much."

You had not foreseen it… well, that makes two of us.

"So, what are you doing here, so early in the morning?"

"I am an old man. I don't need much sleep anymore. There will be time… later. You're up quite early yourself."

I shrug. There's no way I'm telling him I had to get out of there or risk molesting Sleeping Beauty. "I'm afraid you will have to wait a while before Snape wakes. Same with Justin."

"I will not stay. Just tell Severus I made an alteration to his wand signature. He should be able to use it now without any complications."

I stare at him in disbelief.

"I accioed it from your bedroom."

"I figured he wasn't crazy enough to have left without it but I wouldn't put it past him…" A selfish disappointment comes over me. He won't be needing me anymore.

"How is he, Sirius?"

Concern burns bright in the faded blue eyes and I almost feel ashamed for my resentment. I cannot doubt Dumbledore's love. He doesn't play God with all of us, not quite as much as during the War but he can't be expected to give up his hobby completely. He has studied Severus, knows every reaction, anticipates every objection, every complaint and nudges him in the right direction.

The right direction currently seems to be my direction and for that I must be grateful. Still, there are some things I'd rather not share with the kindly Headmaster and my private life is one of them.

"Justin is doing quite well," I choose to misunderstand. "He had a bit of a run in with Snape but nothing too serious. He's going through a rebellious phase, I think. Normal at seventeen even without being a werewolf."

Dumbledore shakes his head sadly, apparently translating "a bit of a run in with Snape" to something quite close to what happened. "I trust you to keep things smooth between them," he says quietly.

"It's hardly my greatest strength but I'll see what I can do. Snape… he doesn't show it but he does care. When he realised that Justin's parents had been leaving him here alone during his changes, he was livid."

I'm looking for surprise in Dumbledore's eyes but see none. He knows. Of course he knows. Like he knew enough about the way the Dursleys were treating Harry to have his Hogwarts letter delivered "to the cupboard under the stairs". He knows but there is only so much he can do.

He's not a god, no matter how we choose to see him. Harry is still convinced, I suspect. Remus loved him beyond measure but did not always obey him. I'm not sure what I feel. And Snape… Snape loves and hates him, nurses his grudges against him but doesn't deny him anything and at the slightest sign of frailty from the old man, looks up with such naked fear that I'm seriously dreading the day when Albus will inevitably leave us.

 "I'm sure Severus will be glad to see you." I say quietly.

Dumbledore stares at me blankly for a moment, then shakes his head. "I cannot stay, I'm afraid. Make sure he gets the wand."

With that he leaves me. No sage advice on what to do with Snape or with Justin. End of discussion. He didn't ask again about Snape. I assume he got all the information he needed from my expression. We're open books to him.

I am half-heartedly finishing my breakfast aware of the fact that I had overrated my hunger, when the boy comes down.

"I thought I heard voices," he says sleepily.

I tell him that Dumbledore was just here. He doesn't look surprised. He asks me whether I told the Headmaster anything about his behaviour.

What would he be referring to? The fact that he was roaming the grounds free his last two changes or the way he insulted the people who are here to help him?

I shake my head.

"How is professor Snape?" Justin is avoiding my eyes. Perhaps he did understand something of the way he had hurt the man after all.

"He's fine," I lie. Very unconvincingly to my own ears but the boy seems satisfied.

"Could I?" He is pointing to my plate and I pass it to him wordlessly. Six pieces of toast had been a bit rich.

"Snape scared me," he says in between bites. "I don't think I'd ever seen him lose his temper like that before. No matter what he would say to us in class he would never raise his voice."

And took great pride on that, I'm sure. Being in control. It had taken him a while to develop the skill but I remember that even as a student he could do it. He could have me, James or Peter frothing at the mouth with a few choice words, like a cat toying with a leashed dog. Sometimes I would forget the consequences and attack him, with magic or just force. James had better self-control than me but he too had been behind some of Snape's trips to the Infirmary. Peter would not attack him unless either James or myself were there. And Remus… Remus too possessed that ability to get others on a state while he stared at them calmly, indulgently, a who me innocence in his expression. He would use it on me in our rare fights and I would briefly hate him for it. His talent was inherent, he hadn't had to work on it, like Snape. Perhaps Snape had picked it up from him. At about the time my childhood nemesis suddenly went from urchin to quite a head turner, gone was also my joy in making him cry in helpless rage.

Why can't I still hate him? Things had been so wonderfully simple when I hated him.

Snape comes downstairs as I am cleaning up the kitchen. If he's embarrassed at being the last one to wake up, he doesn't show it. He curtly orders Justin to wait for him in the study. The boy obeys without question.

"You took my wand."

I point to the kitchen counter. "You can use it now. Dumbledore made a modification in your signature."

"Albus was here?"

Shock and… is that hurt in his tone?

I nod.

"What did you tell him?"

"All that happened last night."

"You're lying."

"Of course I'm lying."

He gives out a heavy sigh. "I'm sick of your games."

One step and I'm in his personal space. "So am I," I hiss.

He pulls back a little. There's something in his expression for a moment. Desire perhaps? I know it's what I felt when his body heat and his clean sharp scent hit me. Whatever it was, it is gone in an instant. He reaches next to me and takes his wand then is off to find Justin.

He avoids me the rest of the day. Justin helps me pass the time, watching television with me. He doesn't go out tonight. For my sake, I suspect. I want to go to Snape. He has set up shop in the garage. I settle for taking him dinner. He accepts the food but not my company.

I'm already asleep when he comes to our room. He wakes me up and tells me to go to my own bed. When I refuse he just drops on my bed himself and is asleep within seconds. This sleeping potion he's on is seriously disturbing my attempts at seduction.

A/N: That's it for now. I'll have the last chapter out in a couple of days. It's all about post OotP stories from then on! (though if it hasn't become too horribly AU I will continue Snape's Diary)