So, what's this about, you might want to know. Me and my laziness and my inability to write more than two pages of a coherent story - you know, those very common symptoms usually diguised as lack of time and Writer's Block - well, at least in my case. there was this very interesting challenge I read and the very inspiring plotbunny that hopped by - unfortunately the damn thing was too quick and I didn't get further than the stuff below before it was out of sight. So I'm stuck with a started story that won't come to an acceptable end just by my efforts - due to the reasons you read above. So here's my suggestion: I'm going to update pieces and drabbles I come up with, hopefully all of them fitting more or less into the going-to-be-story. If you've read a piece (or piece of a piece) and feel like continuing the story (or just writing another drabble-thingy), do it and upload it anywhere you like. Only thing I'm asking for is send me your piece (I'm eager to read everything you come up with!) and attach a note to your uploaded piece of writing, achknowledging you got your idea, ispiration or whatever by reading my stuff. That would be really nice. So what do we get in the end? Don't know, if all goes well, we'll have loooooooots of great ss/sb-slash to read and someday, if the stuff fits together well, and I'm in the mood, I'd like to write everything into a big story and make some kind of giant co-work out of it. And then Intimate Enemies – The Severus Snape/Sirius Black Fuh-Q-Fest might actually get the story to Challenge No. 9. If not - oh well, it was worth a try. Ok, all I've got to say so far. I'll go and bake cookies while waiting for your suggestions.
Note: Today's the 16th of Octobre 2004. If you read this let's say ten years later and still have ideas to contribute - do so! I don't expect this to be over soon. :) Alright, here we go:
Answer to: Intimate Enemies – The Severus Snape/Sirius Black Fuh-Q-Fest (Challenge No. 9: One of the pair is blinded by an accident. (Tasogare))
Title: How 'bout "The Challenge No. 9 Plotbunny-Archive"?
Rating: Up to you ... and to me ... R for the stuff posted here, I guess
Summary: Same as above ...
Pairing: SS/SB, any pairings you'd like to add
Disclaimer: Not mine, J.K.Rowling's, though she'd probably kill me if she knew what I'm going to do with her characters. Anyway, ain't earning any money with this, just cheers from the world wide slash society and flames from all those people being strictly against slash, homosexuality in general, HP and all the witch-stuff involved and people who think it's just wrong to pair Sirius Black and Severus Snape. So Mrs. Rowling, or Warner Bros. For that matter: If you actually claim ownership on the stuff which'll follow this crap I'd be happy to share it with you!
A/N: I've no idea how I ended up writing this, probably those damn hormones again …
"Snape? Are you in there?"
With a curt knock against the door frame Sirius pushed the door to the private dungeon laboratory open. Lit candles were floating in the air above the working table and next to the shelves holding potion ingredients and textbooks. A medium-sized kettle sat on a small flame, and the Animagus screwed his sensitive nose as a wiff of the reeking steam wafted over to him. Otherwise the room was deserted.
"Snape?" he called out again, a bit louder this time. Still no answer and Sirius made a mental note to ask Harry where the old map had ended up after the Triwizard Tournament. He'd been running around searching for the slimy git for nearly half an hour now. He eyed thekettle thoughtfully. Snape probably wouldn't leave it alone for too long, so he could just stay here and wait for the old bat to turn up instead of turning every stony and tapestry in the castle.
With a last frown towards the door Sirius closed it, strolled over to the book shelf and flopped down in one of the mouldy old chairs. Deciding that watching the kettle boil was not going to keep him from boredom for more than two minutes he picked a random book from the shelf and started to flip through it.
When he was half through the chapter dealing with Morphing Potions and simliar draughts the oak door creaked open again and Snape swiped in soundlessly. One spidery hand pressed the door back in it's frame while the other was holding a small vial with dark green liquid swivelling inside. Sirius looked up from the book lying in his lap, not saying anything and for a moment it seemed Snape hadn't noticed him sitting there.
The Potions master was still occupied with the peeling label, while his right hand was feeling for something that was supposed to lie on his work table. Suddenly, though, he paused and slowly turned towards thr corner Sirius was watching him from silently. Dark lanky hair fell in his face and he drew his cloak around him in a defensive gesture. His black eyes narrowed maliciously.
"What the hell are you doing here, Black?" he hissed vernimously.
Sirius smirked and closed the book he was holding carefully before setting it back in its place on the shelf. Then he turned back and met the Potions master's icy glare.
"Albus send me." He said levelly, stood up and took a step forward, unconsciously mirrowing snape's pose by crossing his armes over his chest.
Snape snorted and turned back to his kettle, contend to ignore the offensive mutt invading his private quarters. "I'm on vacation and the Headmaster knows this." With that he flipped his recipe book open and started to scribble down a few notes. Sirius watched him quietly. After ten minutes of clinking and mixing and ignoring the other from Snape's side the Animagus shrugged, returned to his seat and started to read again.
He could see the Slytherin tensing his shoulders in fury, but otherwise remain completely ignorant of his doings. With a smaile to himself Sirius burried himself into the text again, half reading, half waiting for the Potions master to give up his however well-pretended uninterest to what he might have to say. He wasn't going to beg Snape for his attention after he'd been running after him fot too much time already.
But either Snape really wasn't interested to hear the Headmaster's message, or he had quite an amount of stamina in pretending not to care. Sirius finished the chapter unhurried, but with growing impatience. He knew that Snape was playing and he wasn't going to let him win. After scanning the index and deciding that nothing in this book really caught his interest he put it back on the shelf and pulled out another.
Finally Snape stirred his potion or whatever it was he was brewing, carefully whipped the ladle he'd been using with a cloth, placed it accuratly next to the kettle and turned with his arms crossed over his chest around to the Animagus.
"Quite finished yet?" he asked in a spiteful tone, making it clear that Sirius was everything but welcome in this room. The Gryffindor looked up and met his glare thoughtfully, before putting the book doan and standing up as well.
"Yes, actually. I was since you eneterd this room, at the least."
"Fine, and what do you want, other than infurriating me unneccesarily?"
"To be precise, I don't want anything from you. Albus send me."
Snape raised a thin dark eyebrow. "And which part of my earlier answer did you not understand, mongrel?"
Sirius ignored the insult and gave the Potions master a warm smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hm, the fact that you mentioned the word 'vacation' in context with 'I' confused me a bit, but apart from that I simply ignored it."
"And you expect me to say anything else to the matter?"
"Apparently."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I have nothing else to say to this. Now, if you'd kindly leave me alone, I have work to do." With that he turned around to look after his draught again.
"Which is the exact reason I wondered about 'vacation' and you in one sentence. " Sirius muttered with a hint of impatience in his voice. He walked over to the work table and watched Snape prepare dried beetles with a mortar and pestle. Snape crushed the dead insects a bit too forcefully to look calm and Sirius had the strange feeling that he was winning their little fight.
Checking the dosage in his notebook Snape sprinkled the powdered beetles into the kettle and stirred the simmering draught with the ladle again. Slowly the bright green colour morphed into a murkey grey. Snape raised his eyebrows and scribbled some notes onto the yellowing pages of his notebook. Sirius watched him indifferently. Eventually the Potions mater lost his patience.
"Didn't I tell you to leave or is the human tongue not comprehensible to a stinking, flee-bitten mutt like yourself?" he hissed, his eyes narrowed to malicious slits now.
Sirius frowned at him. "You didn't ask me what Albus wants from us and I won't leave before that happens, you see?"
"Stop wasting my time, Black, and get your ignorrant ass out of here!"
"Talking about ignorrant –" But before he could talk any further Snape grabbed his shoulder and spun them around until he was pressed up against the working bench, with the Slytherin's wand stabbing into the side of his neck. Only now did he notice that Snape was left-handed and for a moment he wondered, why he was even thinking about that right now. Snape's eyes were burning into his furiously.
"Let's make this clear, Black, I'm not going to play your little games, I've far too many things to do to waste my time with you. So get out of this lab and get yourself out before I forget myself and blast you out!"
"I'd like to see you try, Snape." The Animagus answered quietly, his pale eyes darkening with fury.
Snape was glaring at him murderously, sparks were flying from the tip of his wand and he noticed with satisfaction that the skin on Black's neck where touched turned an angry red. With a growl Sirius pushed the Potions master away from him, fuming with rage as the other man toppled backwards, but neither of them noticed the tiny spark from Snape's wand speeding through the air and landing in the kettle that had started to bubble on the fire.
For a short moment the murky liquid inside stilled before a loud bang shook the laboratory, followed by a splash of hot draught. Drops of the Potion flew through the air and rained down on walls, floor and furniture of the room. Snape stepped back further and flung out a cloaked arm to protect himself from the liquid splashing from the kettle. He was about to hex Black into next year for ruining the work of weeks, when a cry of pain echoed through the small dungeon.
With a swish of his wand Snape cleared the floor of the remains of his project and extinguished the flames beneath the kettle. But when he turned around the furious insults died on his lips. Black was crouching on the floor, leaning heavily against the work table, his hands covering his face. Drops of the potion had burned through the thin t-shirt he'd been wearing, exposing small circular open wounds, that were bleeding profusely. But something else was worrying Snape much more.
Kneeling down next to the Animagus, his wrath forgotten, he tried to pry the shaking arms away from the other man's face. Sirius' breath was ragged and sounded like he was trying to supress another wail of pain.
"Black! Can you hear me? Stop rubbing your eyes, you idiot, you'll make it worse!" Sirius ignored him and pressed his palms against his face, desperately trying to ease the seering pain in his eyes. "Black! Damn it, stop that!" With an exasperated sigh and growing fear in the pit of his stomach Snape grabbed his wand again and muttered an incarnation under his breath. Thin chords broke from the tip of his wand, snaked around the Animagus' wrists and pulled them behind his back.
Sirius cried out again, the pain becoming even worse, spreading over his whole face and threatening to tear his head apart. He struggled against the bonds, the resolute hands holding him down. Panic took hold of him and suddenly he found himself on the floor with a heavy weight pressing him down. From far away he could hear a voice talking to him insistently, but every coherent thought was hazed by the blinding pain.
In a desperate attempt to free himself and sooth the piercing heat torturing his eyes he jerked his head to the side, a scream ripping from his throat the pain tenfolded to an unbearable agony. His head cracked against cold, hard stone and shortly after everything went black.
Soft coolness touched his face. It moved from his forehead over his cheeks and mouth. It felt good. And freezing at the same time. He shuddered involunterily and parted dry lips. Someone smoothed his hair back and bent over him, he could feel their warm breath fanning over his face. A hand rested on his forehead, a warm hand, giving a strange sense of comfort to him.
Talking beside him. He could hear the quiet voice but couldn't make out the words. He was cold, he could feel the goosebumps forming on his arms and chest. Somebody was touching his shoulders, pressing him down into a warm pillow. He hadn't even noticed he'd tried to sit up.
Something was wrong.
The voices grew loud and then quiet again. Was he falling asleep? He felt tired. And again there was a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't tell what it was doing now. Then soft warmth wrapped around his body, they had covered him up. Slowly, the shivering subsided. The cool touch on his face was there again. He could feel something liquid being slipped past his lips before he lost consciousness.
Snape didn't look up as the door to his bedroom opened again. A few moments later the Headmaster took a seat beside him, a sorrowful expression on his face. He'd been coming and going since the Potions master had informed him about the accident in the dungeon lab and actually Snape didn't care what he'd been doing all the time. Madam Pomfrey had left his quarters about ten minutes ago, with a defeated expression and quietly murmured instructions for Snape.
At that moment he'd lost all hope. The matron was seldomly showing her feelings so openly and the Slytherin was quite sure that this could only mean the worst. He'd been sitting with the Animagus the whole time, hoping that his fears wouldn't be confirmed. Beside him Dumbledore shifted in his chair and reached for the sleeping man's hand. It was cool to the touch, the skin was translucent and pale.
"How's he doing?" the old wizard asked quietly, his eyes watching the Potions master's face. Snape swallowed and shook his head.
"No improvment. Poppy said he's not likely to get better."
The Headmaster nodded patiently. His thumb was stroking over Sirius' limp hand. The Animagus was lying in Snape's bed, upper body bare except for the sticking plasters covering the small circular wounds where the potion had splashed onto his clothes and burned into his flesh. The skin on the right side of his neck was still reddened in irritation. His eyes were blindfolded.
Silence stretched between them again. After some minutes Dumbledore gently placed the Animagus' hand back onto the bedcover and got up. He cast a sad glance to Sirius' still form and patted the Potions master's shoulder.
"I trust you to take care of him, my boy." He said in a quiet tone and left. Snape stayed where he was for a long time, all the while staring at a spot on the opposite wall.
'Where am I?'
He considered that question for a moment. He'd been in Snape's dungeon. But it didn't seem he was still. He was lying on his back, on something soft and warm. Too warm, actually. He shifted a bit, but paused immediately when a loud creak sounded through the room. There was no echo. Small room. He was in a small room, lying on something soft and warm with no idea where he was.
It was dark, very dark. He turned his head and frowned at the strange pressure on his eyes. His whole body felt heavy and tired. With a small groan he rolled to the side and tried to sit up, but his sense of coordination somehow seemed impaired and he fell back on his back. His head felt dizzy and far too heavy, as if he was suffering from a bad hangover. He hadn't been drunk, had he? At least he didn't remember drinking.
'What the hell is going on?' Sirius thought, now slightly angered and brought his hand to his face. His fingertips brushed over something soft. Fabric. A blindfold? He tried to lift his head and feel for a knot, but the sudden haziness hadn't ceased and he was met with a wave of nausea at the attempt. Moaning he pressed his palms against his sort-of-bandaged temples to ease the pain. Judging from his headache he definitedly had been drunk. Maybe this was why he couldn't remember anything.
"I would stop that if I was you."
Startled Sirius turned towards the voice, but was punished almost immediately with another wave of agony. Whimpering he sank back down on whatever it was he was lying on and fought the urge to gag. Someone shuffled around the room, there was a soft clinking noise near him, then the sound of wood dragging across stone, a wiff of fresh air. More shuffeling.
"Snape?"
"Yes. You're awake I see." The familiar sneer. He was standing near him, judging from the sound of his voice. "Didn't I tell you to stop that?" he added in an annoyed tone and pushed the hand Sirius had lifted to the blindfold again away.
"Where am I? What's going on here?" Sirius tried to sit up again, failing miserably and feeling quite nauseaus now. More clinking to his left.
"You're in my bedroom."
"In your … in your bedroom? How the hell did I get in your bedroom? I didn't drink, did I?" For a moment the Animagus shuddered at the thought of what else could've happened. And why was everything around him so dark?
"I brought you here. No, you didn't drink. Now sit up."
"Can't. My head won't let me."
He half-expected an exasperated sigh and an irritated remark from the Potions master, but Snape didn't say anything. Instead he felt the man moving beside him, the hands grabbed him under the arms and pulled him into a sitting position with surprising gentleness. The headache, however, wouldn't give in so quickly and Sirius slumped foreward with a groan and put his badly-hurting head into his hands.
There was a hasty fumbling to his left, the sound of glass being put on a wooden surface roughly and suddenly his wrists where grabbed and yanked away from his face. "Don't do that you idiot!" Snape's voice in his ear, this time really angry. Sirius felt his own fury starting to boil in the pit of his stomach. He swayed foreward clumsily in an attamept to get up, but his sense of coordination was still more than trashed. Snape took hold of his shoulders.
"Try to sit still for a minute, alright? Will you be able to handle that, you moron?"
Sirius was about to snap back, but his head demanded his whole attention now. If he knew one thing, it was that something wasn't right at all. His brow wrinkled. Had Snape just sounded worried? And what was he doing in his bedroom? 'So this must be his bed then.' He figured numbly. 'Nice bed.' He spent another moment asking himself what he meant with that and why he was wondering about this at all.
A hand took hold of his own and something hard was pushed into his palms. "Drink." The order came from somewhere to his righ, then there was the shuffeling sound again. He closed his fingers around the item in his hands. A mug. He frowned, the oddness of the situation coming to the front of his mind.
"What's that?" he asked suspiciously. A snort, further away this time.
"Something to drink. Now stop babbeling and down it."
Sirius paused for a moment, then with a mental shrug, he slowly lifted the mug to his lips and started to drink, ever mindful of the low thumping ache in the back of his skull, waiting to sparkle up again with the next sudden movement. It was tea. Peppermint tea, not sweet enough for his liking, but enough to quench his thirst. Funny, he hadn't noticed being thirsty before. Must be the hangover. Or whatever else it was. He sipped the tea silently, while he listened to his surroundings. He was feeling very tired again. Hadn't he wanted to ask Snape something? Or had he just forgotten the answer already?
When he was done the mug was snatched from his hands. "Snape?"
"What?"
"You didn't answer my question."
"And?"
Sirius ignored him, having to do enough to stay awake. "What's going on? Why am I here?"
A short pause. "You had an accident."
"An accident?"
"Yes."
Sirius waited for further explanation, but none came. Frustrated he pushed himself up a bit higher and tried to turn his head to the direction from where he'd heard Snape's voice the last time. "And? What happened? Am I dying and you're trying to make up for past mistakes or what? And what the hell is this thing for?" he added irritably and raised a hand to the blindfold covering his eyes. Being unable to see was making him nervous.
Almost immediately his wrist was grabbed again and Snape pushed it away from his face. "Don't touch the blindfold. You'll hurt yourself."
"Hurt? Would you care to explain this to me anytime soon?!"
Pause again, a bit longer this time. Then the rustling of clothes and the sound of wood scraping over stone. A heavy sigh, although rather quiet. "Do you remember the afternoon you were in my lab?"
Sirius dug around in his memory. Yes, that afternoon. He'd been trying to talk to Snape. Waited for him. Still frowning a bit he nodded while the picture slowly became clearer in his head. "We fought."
"Yes. I drew my wand and pressed ou up against the working bench. A spark from my wandtip landed in the kettle with my potion. It exploded."
Sirius nodded slowly, that was the point where the scene in his mind stopped. Snape's furious expression close to his face, the heat from his wand prickling on his skin uncomfortably. Angry words. Him pushing the Potions master away. The draught exploding and splashing over the whole dungeon. Pain.
A lump formed in his throat as his mind slowly began to reconstruct the following scene. Snape beside him started talking again. "You stood right next to the kettle when it exploded. Some of it fell onto your chest and shoulders, burned the skin there. You got a rather large swap in your eyes." He fell silent.
A tight knot started to form in the pit of Sirius' stomach. His hands strayed up towards his face again, but Snape stopped them in midway, this time not saying anything. His headache suddenly forgotten he tried to swallow past the hard lump in his throat. It didn't work.
"And?" he asked hoarsly.
"Madam Pomfrey took care of you only moments after. She managed to substract the draught before it burned further into your eyes." He paused again, as if afraid to say the next. Which probably was true. Sirius heard a rush of air, someone taking a deep breath.
"It took your eyelight."
Sirius sat totally still. The silence between them was growing thicker and thicker every minute. Finally he dared to speak. "I … I'm blind?"
"Yes."
"That's why I'm blindfolded?"
"So the wound can heal undisturbed, yes."
"But why am I in your quarters? Why don't you treat me in the infirmary?"
Snape sighed, as if the Animagus' questions were testing his patience already. "Too risky. The winter holidays will be over soon and we can't have students see you there. For another the school gouvernours will pay Hogwarts a visit in a few days and the Headmaster thought you'd be safer in the dungons."
"Because no-one would want to visit you?" Sirius bit out, growing angry himself at the irritated tone the Potions master was using. Though it didn't come out as nastily as it was meant to.
Snape didn't asnwer, at least not verbally. Sirius could imagine the disdainful sneer on his face and the poisonous glare directed at him very well. Somehow, the thought of sitting in Severus Snape's bed rather helplessly didn't bother him as much as the pounding in his head, that had started to get worse again. Almost unconsciously he lifted his hand towards his temple again.
"Will you stop that!" Snape's hand holding his down. He tried to glare at the Potions master before he remembered that this wasn't possible with his eyes blindfolded. Instead he yanked his hand out of the other's grip and scratched the side of his neck. He knew that Snape was about to stop him again, like a nanny telling a small child off for its bad behaviour, but he didn't say anything.
Sirius heard the faint clinking of glass again, then the sound of something liquid dripping, soft clinking and Snape's irritated murmur between it all. A few moments later the familiar mug was pushed into his hands a second time, though not as gently as before. Without a word he lifted it to his lips, but didn't drink. Instead he sniffed it carefully, trying to figure out what Snape was trying to give him. It smelled like tea.
"What are you doing?" The Slytherin sounded really annoyed now, but Sirius ignored him.
"What is that?" Sirius could see the mental image of Snape rolling his eyes, which the real one actually did too.
"Something to drink."
'Oh, smart one, aren't we?' Sirius thought with a smirk, but stayed persistent. "What to drink?"
An exasperated sigh from the Potions master. "I's peppermint tea with vitamin addition and a dose of painkillers. Happy?"
"Painkillers?"
"My god, Black, did you really expect to wake up from a Justice-draught shower and feel healthy like a horse? But be my guest, that stuff isn't exactly easy to prepare. If you don't want it, don't take it, for heaven's sake." Snape snapped at him. Suddenly, Sirius felt a strange fit of gratitude for the other man. He could imagine that it was hard for him to be nice to him, even more so in his own bedroom. Obediently he sipped his tea.
After a while Sirius spoke again. "What are we going to do now?"
An amused snort answered him and the Animagus frowned. From the sound of it Snape was still sitting beside his bed. "You are going to sleep." he said with the hint of his chuckle in his tone.
"Oh, am I?"
"Like it or not, but the stuff you just drank will see to it that you sleep like a baby in about five minutes."
Fury started to bubble up in his chest, but Sirius fought it back. It wouldn't help to sneer at the git now, anyway. "Fine." he snorted sulkily and let himself flop down on the bed again. Now that Snape had mentioned it, he really started to feel sleepy. He scratched his stomach thoughtfully, while haziness began to fill his mind.
"Snape?"
"Hm."
"How long?"
"How long what?"
"How long will it take until it heals – until I can see again?"
"It won't heal. You'll probably be blind for the rest of your life."
That came like a ton of bricks and Sirius had to suck in a deep breath to keep himself from crying out. With great effort he swallowed past his closed throat. For a moment the tired feeling vanished completely and he just felt like Snape had told him he was going to die the next second. Chocking on his own breath he took great gulps of air to calm down again. He could feel himslf fall asleep rapidly, the sudden pain of this knowledge ebbing away slowly, but it didn't take the fear.
A warm hand rested on his bare shoulder and started to rub the skin there in smooth, soothing motions. "I'm sorry, Sirius." It was the last thing he heard before the sleep claimed him.
Snape stood at his work table in his private laboratory and busied himself with preparing ingredients. He needed something to take his mind off the last few days. Just that it didn't work. Again and again he caugt himself thinking about Black and the accident two nights ago. And their conversation from this afternoon. He just couldn't think about anything else. And it was driving him insane.
With a frustrated sigh he put the knife down and stared at the half-cut jilly weeds in front of him. Why had he lost his temper? He could've prevented this from happening, if he'd just acted a bit more mature. A bit more controlled. This stupid accident hadn't been necessary, especially not now when they needed every wizard or witch they could have for the fight against Voldemort.
Massaging his temples he looked around to the clock on his bookshelf. Quarter past twelfe. Qith a quirk of his eyebrow he noticed that the clock had quitted to show the words 'time to go to bed' and instead had written 'zzzzzzzz' across its face. Leaning against the edge of the table he crossed his arms over his chest and wondered if he should follow its example. Black would sleep til the next morning, so he wouldn't have to worry about that.
Still, he felt strangely irresponsible at the suspect of going to bed and leaving the Animagus without supervision, in case something happened. 'And what's going to happen? Nothing. Because it already did!' Because it was too late to help Black now. Too late to spare him this fate. With a sigh Snape began to tidy the lab up. He extinguished the candles and locked the door to the small dungeon room carefully. Then he started to wander around in his quarters. Normally he'd go and prowl the school if he couldn't find sleep, but it was still a week until lessons started again and the few people staying at Hogwarts over the winter break weren't worth the effort. And besides Filch was stalking the school at night; he wouldn't miss anything.
Sirius lay in bed wide awake, ears straining for any sound that might come from the other room. He'd woken up quite some time ago, though it was difficult to estimitate the time when he had no clue of how bright it was outside. He hadn't heard anything from Snape since he'd come to earlier and wondered what time it was. The Slytherin probably had calculated the dose of the draught he'd given Sirius before very carefully, so he guessed it was morning at least.
Not knowing what else to do he tried to sit up and was surprised that he didn't have any problems this time. Maybe Snape had lowered the dose of painkillers after seeing that the Gryffindor hadn't reacted well to it. The matress squeaked quietly as he shifted his weight on it, the noise making him wince, as if he feared someone might hear him.
Feeling around with his hands he finally found the headboard and sat up against it, thinking. The conversation with the Potions master the last evening still rang in his ears and the shock of Snape's diagnose of his situation hadn't lessenedm but he had managed to calm himself enough to think about it rationally. The thought of loosing his sight forever scared him, especially when he pondered how helpless the consition would make him.
Under no circumstances would he be able to live alone on the run. That would be like standing in front of the Ministry of Magic with a sign around his neck saying "My name is Sirius Black and I want to go back to Azkaban, please come out and take me!". Smiling bitterly he pictured the scene in his head. Some other time he'd maybe thought it was funny.
With a sigh he drew his knees up and laid his arms atop, his head leaning against the headboard. This whole situation was ridiculus. He was sitting in Severus Snape's bed, tragically blinded by an accident after he'd ended up fighting with the git and was now practically completely at the mercy of the one man he hated most in this world, maybe apart from Voldemort.
Some superhuman universal force was probably having a good laugh at him right now. He'd ended up in the second-worst situation possible on this earth. Arranging him in the Dark Lord's bed seemed to be sort of unmanagable, even for whatever god or godness he had to thnk for his luck. At least something he could be grateful for.
Changing the subject of his mental monolog he wondered what he was going to doif he was pardoned by the Ministry. Until now he'd hoped to take on his old job at the Aurors. But no matter experienced he might be with Dark Magic and everything belonging to it, without being able to see he could forget whatevery chances he might've had. And thinking about it, he didn't really know what he could do in this condition at all. How was he supposed to take care of Harry like that? Now he needed a nanny himself and it seemed quite unfair to burden Harry with that task.
Even Padfoot's highened senses of hearing and smell wouldn't help him too much as a blind man. 'At least I don't need a guide dog.' he thought to himself in a rather sarcastic tone. And he was quite sure that he would have punched anyone in the face had they said that to him right now.
The monologs quickly became boring and he wondered again what time it was. There was nothing to be heard of Snape, or anyone else for that matter. Carefully he started to get out of the bed, feeling his way as he did. He was still clad in his trousers, which meant that theoretically he could go wandering around without scaring some random House-elf out of its wits. Theoretically.
Brushing his long hair out of his face he slowly stood up, a bit shaky on his feet. With his left hand still clutching the nightstand for orrientation he started to explore his surroundings with his right one. His bare feet touched cold stone floor at first, but when he took another step foreward, he was standing on a warm woolen surface. A bedside carpetting. It was about two feet wide.
His left hand reached the wall. Hesitantly he let go of the edge of the bed, took a few unstaedy steps forward before standing up against the wall. Left hand flat against the rough stones he walked past it, his right arm stretched out in front of him. After about seven feet his right hand met another wall. Stroking his palms over the stone surface in wide circles he found the corner, ran his fingers along the vertical line and carefully turned to go in the next direction.
Halfway down he paused, puzzled, as his palm brushed over something soft covering the wall. Hands testing he positioned himself in front of it to figure out what it was. With his rms spread wide he could touch both ends, where the fabric bordered to the stone surface of the bare wall. Frowning he ran his hand sover the thing. It wasn't flat, here and there sections with another texture stood out a bit. Crouching down he checked how long it was – the lower end hung about two feet over the ground. The upper he couldn't reach.
So it was probably hanging from the wall. What was soft, big and hung over a wall? He ran his hands over it again. That felt like … embroidery! Checking the size again he figured that it had to be some kind of tapestry. Frowning he wondered what kind tapestry Snape would decorate his bedroom with, while his hands were wandering over it. Finding a rather thick embroidery he traced it's outlines with his fingertips, trying to recognize the shape. It was nearly as broad as his hand span, rather long and winding.
A snake. Or an "S". no matter which, he could imagine very well what the tapestry looked like. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing he was blind. He'd always known he didn't want to see Snape's bedroom. Shaking his head he continued his way alongside the wall, until his hand met the door frame. Stroking his right palm over the wooden surface he sought for the handle and found it a few moments later.
Both hands on thedoor he opened it as quietly as possible, but the soft creaking noise still sent an anxious shiver down his spine. He pulled the door open and silently slipped out of the room, palms flat against the bordering wall again. The air was not as warm as in the bedroom, and Sirius bristled slightly. He followed the wall to his right and discovered that it wasn't even five feet long. He seemed to be in some kind of corridor.
Slowly turning around he spread both arms wide and could walk down the hall with his hands toching the stone wall on either side. The floor was covered with a warm carpet, and again he could feel the embroidery on the fabric, this time with his feet. After a few steps his right hand met a door frame. He stopped and turned towards it, both hands pressed against the wall and feeling for the handle. He found the metalic knob and opened the door, this time without any sound.
The mouldy scent of potions and something burned hit him and he quickly closed the door again, puffing the unpleasant smell out of his nose with a snort. Resuming his position between the two walls he went further down, until the stone to his leftsuddenly vanished. Wrinkling his brow in slight confusion he stuck to the right one and after a few steps found another door. With his breath held he opened it, but no potion fumes drafted out, instead it faintly smelled of peppermint and musk.
Hesitantly he took a step foreward, but pulled back his foot almost instantly as bare skin met a cold smooth surface. Still bracing himself on the door frame he listened for sounds that might betray some possible watchers. He was aware of how silly he had to look right at this moment, blindfolded and erring through a starnge living place, like he was playing blind man's bluff.
When he was sure that indeed no-one was observing him he crouched down and let his hands wander over the cold floor, trying to figure out what he was standing in front of. Here and there his fingertips found strange breaks in the smooth surface, perfectly straight and criss-crossing each other. Puzzeled he sat baczh on his haunches, rocking back and forth as he thought. The unfamiliar smell still hang in his nostrils.
It somehow didn't fit Snape at all. It smelled good. Lost in thought he let his hands stroke over the floor again. Somehoe it reminded him of the Quidditch changing rooms, though the smell was better. He missed those days, together with James, changing for Quidditch practice. He once had slipped out on the wet tiles and accidently broken his wrist, but instead of clenching his teeth he'd sighed in relief that his glasses hadn't broken again.
Sirius smiled bitterly at the memory, but sat up straighter as he grasped the thought again. Tiles! Of course, why hadn't he thought of that sooner? He was crouching in front of the bathroom.
Suddenly a creak behind him made him hop to his feet and spin around. With his breath caught he stood there, listening. He was almost sure that Snape was standing in front of him right now, watching him with an amused sneer. Willing his pulse back to normal he carefully took a step foreward, his hand at the wall making another turn to the left. Still listening fir any sound from his supposed opponent he waited.
The thought that the git was having a laugh at him right now made him angry and he felt heat flush his cheeks. Without thinking he raised his hand to his face, tugging at the blindfold, although knowing in the back of his mind that it wouldn't help. The air around him stayed silent.
That was new.
No-one catching his hands, telling him off? Now very confused he let the hand fall down himself and took another step foreward. Everything was still. He was unsure if standing there and waiting would get him further than resuming to follow the wall. In the end he decided that he should continue his doing, ignoring the Potions master, just in case he was actually there.
His hand on the wall felt secure.
Cold stone bordered on warm carpet, the wall took another turn, to the right this time, carpet again and Sirius began to wonder if Snape's quarter's looked indeed like a rabbit's hole, or if it just felt like it. Suddenly though his knees met a pliant but solid hinder while his hand continued on the wall. Surprised he lost balance and toppled forewardon big cushions, causing the sort-of-matress-thing to creak loudly under his weight.
Perfectly still he half-sat, half-kneeled on the … couch? … and listened. Again silence met him. He didn't wait as long this time. Instead he stayed sitting on the cushion (which actually was very comfortable) and investigated the rest of it with his hands. It was smooth and cool to the touch, like leather. Here and there his fingertips dipped into nooks and folds. Running his palm over the back he was surprised to feel a lump of fabric bump his fingers.
Leaning foreward slightle he tested the foreign abject with both hands,softly first, then his touch firmed. His fingertips traced folds and sews as they ran up over the strangely warm thing. There was still no sound from anywhere und Sirirus shoved the uneasy thought of Snape watching maybe him in the back of his mind.
What was that?
Frowning the Animagus leaned foreward and was about to test pulling the strange object when it suddenly jerked to life and swatted his hand away with an angry hiss. "Black! What are you doing?"
Stunned Sirius sat back on his haunches, feeling the heat rise up his neck and spreading over his cheeks. Embarassed he sat there, silent, not really knowing what exactly he was feeling embarassed for. Beside him Snape sat up, fumbling a bit clumsily for a moment before he stood and grasped Sirius' shoulder, though not as hard as his tone would've let him guess.
"Come on."
Sirius noticed that the sneer usually reserved for him wasn't there as the hand guided him to his feet and across the floor, probably back to the bedroom. The Animagus lifted his hands up without thinking, trying to get them on a wall for support and guidiance. He felt extremely vulnerable, walking without having any idea where he was going. Beside him Snape hesitated for a moment.
Silently he grasped Sirius' reaching hand and gently placed it on the near wall, glancing at the other man uncertainly as he did so. A bit of the tenseness in Sirius' shoulders eased. "This way." the Potions master told him, while giving him a little push in the right direction. He felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he watched the man carefully walking down the hall.
Stepping into the bedroom behind Sirius he took him by the shoulders and stirred him towards the bed, feeling uncertainity and akwardness returning into the Animagu's features.
"Here. Sit down." he said, taking a seat opposite the man himself. Black was facing him, his expression tense; he was straining for sounds. Feeling a bit stupid he opened the drawer of his bedside table rather loudly and started laying things out on it's top. Even though he knew Black couldn't see anything he was unnerved by the steady gaze.
"Snape?" The question startled him slightly. "What … what are you doing?"
"I'm going to change your bandages."
"Oh. Okay."
Sirius winced as the warm hand took hold of the back of his neck and tipped his head upwards, not expecting the rather gentle touch. He felt Snape leaning closer to him, the soft noise of his breathing sounding incredibly loud in Sirius' sensitiv ears.
"Hold still now."
Sirius did as he was told, while the Slytherin carefully undid the blindfold and started to peel the bandages beneath it off. Uncomfortable Sirius tried to shift away, suddenly realising how close Snape was. Even if he couldn't see him he felt invaded. And helpless.
But instead of scolding him for pulling away, the Potions master patiently waited for him to settle down again. Sirius' shoulders were tensing painfully as the last covering fell from his eyes. There was nothing. The same darkness he'd seen for the last few hours, as if somebody was still pressing a black cloth over his eyes.
Disbelieving and with the beginnings of a tight lump in his throat he raised his hand in front of his eyes, touching the sensitive skin beneath his left eye, willing it to see it, something, anything! He heard the fast ragged breathing, not realizing that it was his own. His throat closed, hot tears rose in his eyes as he stared ahead without seeing. A tear drop spilled over his fingertips, running down his cheek to linger on his jaw before dropping.
Another followed. And a third. He stopped counting, his mind was blank, completely devoid of anything, like his vision. His shoulders shook silently, no noise made it out of his mouth, he had forgotten that he was sitting on Snape's bed, in his quarter's and that the Potions Master was seated right in front of him. He just fought the pressing ache in his chest, that threatened to break out.
He didn't know how long he'd sat there, tears flowing out of blindly staring eyes. He didn't notice the hands back on his shoulders, at the nape of his neck, gently pulling his own one still lingering on his cheek away. He didn't react to the slightly stinging liquid being dripped into his eyes, nor did he acknowledge Snape's hand stroking the hair out of his face.
After what seemed like an eternity the flood ebbed down, the tensness in his shoulders left, he felt utterly exhausted, drained by sorrow and fear. Snape's soft voice directed him to raise his head, lean back, hold still, warm hands supported his head as the Potions master applied a thick paste onto his eyes. Sirius just sat there and let it happen, stunned and tired. He reacted mechanically as Snape asked him to bend his head foreward, fresh fabric was covering his eyes, as his forehead brushed the other man's shoulder. Without thinking or hesitating Sirius leaned foreward, into the comforting warmth, burrying his face into the steady shoulder, not caring for anything anymore …
Snape leaned back a bit, careful not to startle the man resting against him. 'How did I end up like this?' he thought to himself as he looked down at his charge. Strangely the usual feelings of hate and sorrow he held for the man were missing. Normally he wouldn't bother for the Animagus' feelings in the slightest, more likely sneering at him for wallowing in self-pity like a heart-broken teenager. He knew Black would've done so.
He didn't know if sorry would express his emotions, but why exactly had he agreed to take care of Black in the first place? Albus himself had said that other members of the order could've done the job; Lupin for example wouldn't have hesitated to take his old friend in. and by the way he was quite sure that Black himself would ask the same, once he'd gotten past the first shock.
Shifting his shoulders again he wondered how long it would take the Gryffindor to arrange himself with this new situation. With a pang of guilt he remembered his reaction as he'd first been told that the damage done was permanent. He hadn't enjoyed Black's shocked gasp or his obvious struggle to stay calm. The fear had been easy to decipher, with the blood draining from his face. But it was only now that he realized how hard his statement had actually hit.
Black was still leaning heavily against him, his breathing deep and steady. Snape eyed the man impassively, noting the change in his appearance. He was still a bit too lean, but by far not as emicated as he was two years ago, in the infirmary after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. He'd put on a layer of muscle, his skin wasn't white and waxy anymore, his hair clean and silkily hanging the past his shoulders instead of the matted tangle still shown on the wanted-posters in the Hogsmeade post-office.
With a huff he mentally shook his head and pushed these rather disturbing thoughts away. Sitting up a bit straighter he gently pushed Black back onto the bed. The Animagus let it happen without reacting, he stayed sitting on the bed with hunched shoulders and hands in his lap. His eyes were dead.
Breakfast had been an awkward affair. Snape hadn't made the effort to lead Sirius down to the living room, instead he'd instructed the house-elf assigned to him to bring the food trays up to the bedroom. The Animagus had taken the meal as it came, taking no sugar to his tea, adding no cheese to the buttered toast, making no move for anything out of his reach.
Snape watched him quietly, keeping quiet the whole time, not wanting to intrude more on Black. They ate in silence.
Right, that's about all the stuff I've written so far. You know what to do now, get going and make a story out of it, I swear I'll never be able to do it all by myself. Thanks already!!!