In The Heat of Passion

Snape held up his wand toward the sunlight that was streaming into the nearby window.

He was examining the wand for imperfections, but not out of any obsessive desire - it was a

rather dull afternoon. He looked out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. It was an uncomfortably

warm day out, as he observed by the looks of the sweltering children congregating beneath any

tree that would afford them shade.

He began to lose himself in that window, lazily overlooking the happy scene without

really seeing it. He noticed three students walking back toward the school, one with red hair, one

with long, brown hair, and one with a messy tuft of black hair. His thoughts drifted to the

memory of one who had looked so much like the black haired student. To thoughts of one whom

he severely detested - and then to the best friend of that one. It was there that they hanged.

Emotions began to boil within Snape, but an overwhelming sense of lethargy kept him

very settled. He began to turn away from the window, the thought of this man lingering still on

his mind, when out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something black running over the

grounds. He turned his head quickly, hoping that maybe- could it be him? But no, there was

nothing running out there at all...and his spark of hope died as quickly did his apparition.

Sighing slowly, Snape made his way back to the dungeon. Perhaps he'd be able to clear

his mind down there, concentrating on potions... Sometimes the weight of it all pounded down

upon him, and he felt like ripping his heart out of his body and stamping it into the floor so that

his feelings would settle, so his emotions would die.

The fact was, Severus Snape was sick of thinking of him. The signs were everywhere -

increasing continually, like an omen. Like the man was beckoning to him. Calling to him. I need

you, Severus. He could feel it coursing through every cell of his being, vibrating through his

mind and making his hands chill, his body ache with desire.

He descended to the dungeon, his eyes half-closed in a dreamy state, but with his strict

expression maintained. He could picture the man all too clearly, and it felt like the Crutacious

Curse. He could picture the handsome features which he'd had the agony and joy of beholding in

recent times. And as he opened the door to the dungeon, he could picture his soft, tender

lips...and was silently dying for just...one kiss.

Standing before him was Sirius Black. Snape was taken aback completely, shocked that

his dreams, his yearning had led to an answered prayer such as this - so swiftly.

But they hated each other. He must not forget to hate him.

"What business do you have here?" Snape demanded.

Sirius made no reply, but reached past Severus to close the door. They stood face to face,

alone in the cold dungeon.

"I demand that you-"

But before Snape could finish his command, Sirius had him pinned up against the door.

Black's lips were pressed firmly to Snape's, to the point of severe aggression. Snape at first

tensed in shock, but then realized what the incredibly wonderful man was doing, and kissed him

back, just as passionately.

The two vigorously grasped and pulled at one another's bodies, like they were

competing. Like they were trying to rip one another apart.

And just like that, Sirius pulled away, and fled from the room, leaving Severus quite

alone. By the time his senses came to him and he opened the door to go run after Sirius, the man

was no where to be found.