Nor All, That Glisters, Gold

by Avocado

Challenge response. Pranks misfire during Severus Snape's sixth year at Hogwarts, and things only go from bad to worse. REVISED to incorporate HBP canon.

Note: This story has been edited from its original posted version. Specifically, I have made it conform to HBP and also edited some areas which I did not think flowed well. The essential events of the story remain unchanged.

Disclaimer: Characters and setting are not mine. The story is.

Warnings: Spoilers for HBP. I suppose I should warn for slash, but this is essentially genfic. There are no romantic relationships in here. If the mere concept of a boy being attracted to another boy bothers you, don't read it.

Nor All, That Glisters, Gold

---

Friday, October 8, 1976.

Severus Snape huddled behind a hedge. Night was falling-- clear, gray, and cold. He shivered a little, pulling his robes tight. He tried to ignore the rub of his vest against his chest, glad for the dimming light. At least I don't have to look at myself.

He absently freed a small rock from the dirt, turning it between his fingers. He registered the smooth feel, then rubbed his fingers back and forth over a rough area where it had been broken. Realizing what he was doing, he felt his lips tighten in a grimace. He tightened his grip on the rock and threw it at the stone walls, the loud crack of impact echoing. I wish it were Pettigrew's damned face!

"What was that?" he heard, recognizing the voice as Avery's. Fuck. Why is he here? Severus' earlier frustration was overwhelmed by his fear of being noticed.

Severus could hear the sneer in the reply: Rabastan Lestrange. "Probably just crumbly old Hogwarts falling apart. Can you believe that they think it's more of a privilege to go here than Durmstrang?"

Severus held his breath, careful not to rustle the bushes. They were fellow Slytherins but hardly friends. Saving face was everything in his house; even had he been willing to sacrifice dignity to come crawling out on his hands and knees, he couldn't afford to have them see him right now. Go away, he pleaded silently.

In contrary fashion, he heard their footfalls pad closer-- close enough that he could see their shoes through the hedge. The darkness was a blessing, even in the moonlight, it would be hard for any of them to see him.

"Where is he?" Lestrange said.

Whoever it is, I hope he hurries.

"Lestrange! Avery!" Rapid footfalls crashed across the grass. Rosier.

"Be a bit quieter," Lestrange snapped. "It's not as if we're supposed to be out here; why are you late? Did you have trouble avoiding Snape?"

What does he mean, "avoiding Snape?" His heart beat faster. Over the past several years, he'd observed as the scions of the wealthiest pureblood families cleaved together. It was subtle, but noticeable if you watched. And he'd watched: furtive looks, whispers, groups formed where none existed before. He'd never been invited to join them-- more than five years at Hogwarts had been enough to teach him that they held him in contempt. They only bothered to pretend when they needed help with lessons. He could read it in their eyes: half-blood, dirt poor-- even brilliance was nothing to boast of when you'd never managed to shed the nickname "Snivellus." He hated them almost as much as he wanted to be them.

"Don't you remember? He got a detention in Potions."

"Snape got a detention in Potions." Incredulity in Lestrange's voice. Well, that's something at least. Severus found it incredible himself.

"Guess so. He missed dinner, too. "

"I do remember. Someone mentioned it at dinner. It was something to do with that idiot Gryffindor, Pettigrew?" Severus could easily imagine Lestrange's face: those narrowed eyes, that evil smile.

Rosier laughed. "Dyed his skin yellow by adding something to today's Snake Devenom potion."

Someone snickered; it could have been either Avery or Lestrange.

"Professor Slughorn said that since Snape was so good with his Antidotes, he could just stay around and brew the cure."

"Ah, Snape never can resist them. We're late enough already; let's go." What does he mean I can't resist them? They're the ones who torment me.

Severus heard the rustle as they moved, then the slowly fading sound of their paces as they walked away. Thank God for that. Under any other circumstances, he would have killed to know where they were going; he'd been dying to find out for months. Tonight, however, was another matter.

---

It had seemed like such an excellent prank at the time, sitting behind Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin. Lupin was, as always, concentrated on his potion-- constructing it slowly and methodically.

Pettigrew was, as always, scraping and chopping at ingredients in a mad dash to get them into his cauldron before it exploded. Today had been no different. In his initial rush, he'd minced the agrimony root instead of the leaves. He'd been ready to pour it into the cauldron when Severus saw him glance at the instruction sheet again, let out a little scream, and run up to the front of the room to get more agrimony.

Severus stared at the bubbling cauldron. He was three chapters beyond the class pace in Potions, and, unlike the rest of the students, he actually remembered what they'd studied. The combination of agrimony root and leaves would have some fairly interesting effects given what was already in the cauldron. Almost as quick as thought, he edged forward, grabbed a handful of the minced agrimony root, and dropped it into Pettigrew's cauldron, then slipped back to his table. Mere moments later, Pettigrew dashed back, tripping over his own feet in the rush. This time, he minced the agrimony leaves, and he tossed a handful into the cauldron.

Severus leaned forward, smile tugging at his lips. With a satisfying pop, the cauldron sprayed its contents over Pettigrew's head and shoulders. Pettigrew screamed, wiping the hot liquid away with both hands.

With the ease of five years' practice, Professor Slughorn dumped cold water over Pettigrew.

The classroom erupted in laughter. Peter Pettigrew's head and hands had turned a deep yellow. He stood and spun around, his lower lip (yellow as well) trembling.

"What did you do?" Professor Slughorn said with a sigh.

The absolute best bit about Pettigrew is that he ends up taking the blame. Tears were welling in Pettigrew's eyes-- and they call me Snivellus. "I didn't do anything," he said. "I went up to the front to get more agrimony, but--"

Slughorn's mouth was in a flat line. "Why did you need more?"

"I'd cut the root, not the leaves." The class sniggered.

"Did you put the root into the cauldron?"

Pettigrew shook his head vigorously, and Severus dodged back to avoid the spray of cold water and potion.

"Professor Slughorn!" There go those damned friends of his.

"Yes, Mr Black?" Slughorn's attitude quickly changed. Head of Slytherin and he's fawning over Sirius Black.

"I saw Snape go up and put something into Peter's potion." They were always coming to Pettigrew's rescue. He could never decide which of them was worst: Sirius Black, blood traitor, overly handsome, arrogant; James Potter, who had made it his life's work to humiliate Severus at every turn; or perhaps it was Remus Lupin, always quiet, but never restraining his friends in their excesses-- acts like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Severus knew about Lupin, though-- last year's Defense Against the Dark Arts courses on werewolves and the OWL questions had made the cause of Lupin's monthly absences obvious.

"Mr Snape?" Slughorn sounded disappointed.

"Yes, Professor Slughorn?" He looked up, keeping his face blank and calm. He knew Slughorn was only interested because Sirius Black was taking Pettigrew's part. Severus had watched Slughorn try to cultivate Narcissa Black for years. At least she was a Slytherin. Sirius Black was not.

Slughorn laughed heartily, jowls and walrus-tusk mustache bouncing. "I'm certain it was a mistake, wasn't it, Mr Snape?"

"No, sir." Caught, it was a point of pride for Severus not to lie about it.

Slughorn blinked rapidly, then laughed again. It sounded hollow. "Well, you're so good at antidotes, I'm certain you won't mind helping Mr Pettigrew."

Severus had no interest in helping Slughorn curry favor. "Oh, I don't know, sir. Wouldn't it be better practise for Pettigrew to do it himself?"

"Mr Snape..." Slughorn sighed, rolls of fat around his middle shifting. "Detention. Come before dinner to brew the cure."

"Yes, Professor Slughorn." He mouthed the concession again the instant Slughorn turned his back and shot a glare at Sirius Black, filling it with five years of fury. Black returned the glare. Scratch the question; Black's the worst of the lot. Severus turned his glare on Peter Pettigrew, who was usually far more easily cowed. This time, however, Pettigrew wore a look of triumph despite his deep yellow skin.

Fucking Gryffindors.

---

And so, after his last class, he found himself sitting in the Potions classroom working on brewing Pettigrew's cure. Pettigrew sat on the table directly in front of his, legs swinging back and forth over the edge.

Pettigrew leaned his torso forward, bringing his fat yellow face and pointed nose all too close to Severus. "Hurry up, Snivellus."

"I should do this wrong just to shut you up," Severus hissed.

Pettigrew leaned back, smirking. "Professor Slughorn," he called, "Snape says he's going to screw up the potion!"

"Mr Snape..." Slughorn let out a tired sigh.

"No," Severus snapped, keeping his voice low, "I said I should screw it up. And you aren't exactly increasing the odds in your favor."

"You're in a bad position to be making threats, aren't you, Snivelly? Just imagine what would happen if I were to cause you to screw up the potion?" Pettigrew opened his eyes wide, they almost overflowed with innocence. If he were anyone else, I could almost appreciate that.

"For one thing, you'd stay yellow," Severus snapped.

"I've been yellow all day, and I think this just might be worth it." Pettigrew twisted his face in an evil smile equal to Rabastan Lestrange's best efforts. Pettigrew reached into his pocket, drawing out his fist. Severus could barely see hints of a few herbs in it. Realizing what was about to happen, Severus lunged forward in a fruitless attempt to block the cauldron with his body. The herbs hit, and the cauldron promptly exploded, spraying hot fluid all over Severus's face and chest.

"What--?" Severus saw Professor Slughorn lunging to his feet.

Severus made it to his own feet even faster, knocking over the cauldron and grabbing Pettigrew by the throat. "What was that? What did you throw in, you idiot?"

Pettigrew giggled and snorted. "Wouldn't you like to know? Serves you right."

Severus shook Pettigrew by the throat, vaguely noticing Professor Slughorn hurrying toward them. God, I'll kill Pettigrew. His thoughts of vengeance were abruptly stilled by the sudden sensations on his chest. It felt like his bones, muscles, and skin were rapidly reshaping themselves, new bulges appearing. His robes felt tight across his chest, underwear loose about his waist and tight over his hips. Letting loose Pettigrew's throat, he whispered, "My God, what have you done?"

Hunching over, he ran for the door, still hearing Pettigrew's giggles and snorts behind him. Professor Slughorn was shouting, but he couldn't listen. He had to get out. His clothes were rubbing against newly sensitive portions of his anatomy; his shoes were suddenly too wide, slipping and sliding as he ran out of the dungeons and out of the building.

Not long afterward, it was all too obvious what Pettigrew had done. His hips had widened, his feet had narrowed, and two very feminine breasts had appeared on his chest. Probing nervously against his crotch, he concluded that, to the best of his knowledge, he was now very female. He would have actually had to remove his robes to be certain, but that wasn't something he was prepared to face.

Please, God, let it wear off soon.

---

Well after Lestrange, Avery, and Rosier departed, he was still hiding in the bushes by the school walls, female anatomy completely intact. With Lestrange, Avery, and Rosier gone, he wasn't afraid of being found. However, his time huddled in the bushes had left him with numb joints and aching muscles. Moving slowly, hissing at the pain of moving stiff muscles, he crawled out of the bushes.

Severus forced himself to stand upright, tilting his torso from side to side to stretch. The cotton of his shirt rubbed against cold-stiffened nipples, and he bit his lip.

He walked forward, trying to ignore the unexpected stretching and tensions of his transformed body. It was good to move. Only now did he realize how numb and cold he had been after sitting unmoving in the bushes. The renewed flow of blood was almost painful.

Severus made his way to the edge of the lake and sat, seeing the thin moon reflected in the water. He leaned back, stretching his arms and legs, and closed his eyes. He drew in a deep breath and let it out. There must be something I can do to fix this.

"Lovely night, isn't it?"

Severus's eyes snapped open at the familiar voice behind him. A few moments later, he heard shoes squelching in the mud and the thump as Sirius Black sat down and stretched out next to him.

"I like it up here, you know. You can actually see the stars. That's the problem with London-- too many lights, too much fog." Black shifted, raising his arm to point at the sky. "That's Sirius, the dog star. I was named after it."

Severus stayed silent, at a loss for words. Pettigrew's little additions to the potion must have changed his appearance more than he thought. Black clearly had no idea who he was talking to.

"I'm Sirius Black, by the way, from Gryffindor."

Severus swallowed. "I know," he managed.

"Well, that's flattering."

Severus swallowed again. "Everyone knows you."

"And that's even more flattering, if somewhat embarrassing-- I don't know you, you see."

Was Sirius Black flirting with him-- or, rather, with the female he appeared to be? "I'm not very interesting."

"I don't know-- moonlight, stars, a romantic meeting on the lakeshore-- I'd say you have potential."

What an ego! Perhaps Severus could get some use out of his transformed state after all. After all, Sirius Black was ultimately responsible for Severus current state; he'd been the one to betray Severus to Professor Slughorn. And he'd never yet received adequate revenge against Black and Potter for flipping him over and stripping off his pants in front of everyone the year before. If the initial humiliation of the incident had not been enough, he'd had to then endure Lily Evans' even more humiliating attempt to "make friends" afterward by inviting him to visit over the summer. Pity from the damned Mudblood, too. Rage and hatred roiled in his stomach. Easy-- it would be easy and satisfying even to throw a glancing blow against Black's massive ego. Black was flirting; Severus would let him flirt. At some opportune moment, Severus would deliver a withering insult. Severus drew his lips up in a smile. "I'm"-- he darted a quick glance at the full moon above-- "Selena."

"Moon and star, how appropriate," Black said. "What house are you in?"

Severus suppressed a reach for his scarf; he must have dropped it in his mad dash out of the Potions classroom. Black didn't like Slytherins. Gryffindor was right out, and he'd rather die than claim Hufflepuff, which left-- "Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw, hmm? What's your best subject, then?"

"Potions," he admitted with a bit of pride.

"Not one of my favorites, I must admit."

Severus turned back to look at the water.

"Are you in my year? I don't know you."

Severus shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fifth year."

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

"Come closer, then."

Telling himself it was necessary to further his plan, Severus slid closer to Black. Black's right arm suddenly snaked around his waist, pulling him up against Black's body. Severus gasped. "How's that?"

Severus forced himself not to fight. "Better." It was warmer.

Black pulled him closer. "As cold as you feel, Selena, I'd think you'd been out here for hours."

"You'd be right."

Black's voice held the sonorous quality that indicated a quotation. "'The pensive Selima reclin'd/ Gazed on the lake below.'"

"What?"

He felt the laughter shaking Black's body before he heard it. "Muggle Studies isn't one of your subjects, I take it."

"No." His lip twitched up. "And I said 'Selena,' not 'Selima.'"

"Why reject a promising quotation?" They sat silently for awhile. "Besides, I'd say 'pensive' suits your mood well. Bad day?"

Severus' mouth twitched. God, yes. he was surprised to find himself fighting back tears. He'd spent years training himself not to cry. There was apparently more to swapping sexes than he'd realized. Resentment rose against his own unstable emotions. "Very bad."

"Maybe I can help improve it."

Arrogant bastard! "Very sure of yourself, aren't you?" Sirius Black and James Potter had behaved as if Hogwarts should worship at their feet since the day they'd all first boarded the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of first year. By and large, Hogwarts had obliged. Repulsive, the both of them.

Severus felt the puff of air riffle his hair as Black sighed. "Not really. I don't think it can hurt to try, though. What else can any self-respecting Gryffindor do at the sight of an attractive and clearly unhappy girl?"

Attractive? Looking for another sycophant, Black? Don't think I've not seen how the girls look at you. Severus stifled the retort. He squeezed his eyes closed. "What did you have in mind?"

He felt Black's shoulder move behind his head as the other boy shrugged. "It's a beautiful night, quiet-- we're alone. Seems a pity to waste it."

Does he never quit? But this was perfectly in tune with what he'd expected of Black, ready to get an unfortunate girl to fall all over him.

Black rubbed Severus' shoulder, then pushed him forward a little. "You're so tense."

"What are you--?"

"Shh. Relax." Severus tensed his muscles even tighter, then jumped as both of Black's hands came down on his shoulders. "Relax, I said." Black began to knead the muscles.

Severus let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. I have to do this; it will make it all the sweeter in the end. Black's hands were warm against his shoulders; Severus had been cold for hours.

"Now, Selena, why don't you tell me why your day was so bad?"

Severus pursed his lips. "Let's say that someone pulled a very embarrassing prank on me today and I don't want even my friends to see me." That was true enough.

"Who?"

Severus frowned. "Who played the prank? What does it matter? It's my problem, not yours."

"If someone's done something terrible enough that you're this embarrassed, I'd think you'd want someone else to encourage them not to do it again."

The sheer irony of Sirius Black volunteering as his knight protector was appalling. "I can take care of myself," he said gruffly.

Black squeezed both shoulders at once, thumbs digging in. "I'm sure you can. Consider it, though. It doesn't hurt to have a friend."

Sirius Black wants to be my friend? "Look, Sirius, you don't have to--"

"I know I 'don't have to,'" he broke in. "I'd like to."

"You don't even know me!"

"I'd like to."

Severus found himself almost believing Black meant it-- or, perhaps, hoping Black meant it. Anger at himself pushed him to his feet. He turned to face Black. "You keep saying that! Why?"

Even in the dim light, Severus could see Black shrug. "I don't know. There's just something about you."

Severus pressed his lips tightly together. God, what else did that potion do? For all I know, Pettigrew not only made me female, he made me irresistible to men! "You don't even know what I look like, Sirius. Yet, here you are, calling me attractive and offering to protect me and be my friend. Forgive me if I suspect your motivations."

Black charged to his feet in turn, grabbing Severus by the shoulder. "What are you accusing me of, Selena? On one hand, you're saying I don't know whether or not you're attractive, on the other, you're accusing me of-- God knows what. Make up your mind."

Severus could see where this was going. Here was his chance. Do you find me attractive, Sirius? he'd ask. Yes, Black would respond. Too bad the feeling's not mutual, he'd reply, then walk away, leaving Sirius Black crushed and humiliated by the only rejection he'd ever faced in his overprivileged life. "Do you find me attractive, Sirius?"

"Of course I-- how could I--? Oh, the darkness. Come here." He grabbed Severus by the wrist and dragged him closer to the lake. "Lumos."

A small ball of light sprung into being, and Severus squinted, trying to block out the glare. "What are you doing?"

"Look at yourself in the lake, Selena."

Look at himself in the lake? That was the last thing Severus wanted to do. He did not want to see the monstrosity that Pettigrew had made of him.

He felt Black's fingers on his chin, warm-- how does he manage that heat?-- gently turning his head to face the water. "You wanted to know if I think you're attractive, Selena. Why don't you look and I'll tell you what I see."

Ah, apparently this is part of the Sirius Black seduction technique. Severus forced his eyes open and stared at Black's reflection instead of his own. "So, tell me what you see, then," Severus challenged, jerking his chin free of Black's fingers.

"You aren't looking at yourself."

"I know what I look like."

"Do you? Then you don't mind looking, do you?"

It wasn't going to end, apparently. Severus steeled himself, gritting his teeth and staring into the lake. He looked-- very different. Who knew that Peter Pettigrew's handful of herbs would have been so effective? Bitterness caused one side of his reflected mouth to quirk up. Same coloring, similar features-- he looked like his own sister. His eyes were as black as ever, but larger in proportion to his face. His lips were fuller, his jaw less square. Even the dreadful hooked nose he'd inherited from his father was still there, slightly smaller. All in all, it was a collection of very subtle differences that proclaimed the female sex.

Only his clothes and his hair remained unchanged. Hard to imagine what Black can make of those. "I'm looking. Start talking." Whatever Black had said, Severus could see very clearly that his transformed body was not attractive.

"I see a girl with dark hair, dark eyes, and skin that could stand a bit more sun. Regular features-- with a nose that might be described as larger than average." Black reached up and tweaked the tip. Severus jumped, and Black chuckled.

"You mean 'beaklike,' I think."

"You want to me to say your nose is tiny? It isn't. I still find you attractive." Black grinned, light reflecting off of even, white teeth. Speaking of attractive, here's someone much too attractive for his own good. Attractive enough that he wouldn't be bothering with me, even in female form.

Severus watched his reflection press its lips into a thin line. Black was clearly interested in winning "Selena" over with his charm. Severus would give Black enough rope to hang himself. "What about me do you find attractive? I'm sure it's not the beaklike nose that lured you in. So, what is it?"

"My cousin Narcissa, you're not. But I happen to like pale skin and dark hair. Blondes leave me cold. As suspicious as you are-- I'd think you were a Slytherin, but maybe that's anyone on a bad day-- you've still been nice to me. That's worth a lot more than a small nose. Also, you have to admit that someone you meet under the moonlight gains a bit of mystery-- or you did, at least. I'm hoping it worked for me."

Nice? When have I been nice? Grant some points, though, he thought of Slytherin, though why he thinks "Slytherin" is the same as "suspicious"... "Sirius Black, you really would go to bed with anything that moved, wouldn't you?"

"I'm sixteen, what d'you expect?"

And, suddenly, Severus was tired of the game. It wasn't worth it anymore. He no longer felt like laughing. "I don't want to play. I've had enough today. I don't need to deal with you." He pulled away, but Black caught him by the wrist.

Black extinguished the light. "What I didn't mention was your sad eyes. All right, you're not interested in me, amazing as that is. How about sitting and talking? Maybe it is just finding someone by the lake in the moonlight, but I do want to know you."

Severus pulled against Black's grip; it didn't loosen. He had opened his mouth to demand release when-- Wait... "Why are you out here, anyway?"

"My friends and I, we sometimes..." Black's voice trailed off.

Severus tensed. Stupid. He'd been so focused on embarrassing Sirius Black that Severus had lost sight of the fact that Black was outside at night doing God only knew what. He had the potential for causing far more serious damage than just embarrassment. "So you should be off to meet them, shouldn't you?"

"Well, maybe. But tonight, I'd much rather talk to you."

"I thought we'd established I don't want to talk to you." Why is he out here?

"Why not? What am I going to do with what you tell me?"

Black might exchange one confidence for another. Severus shook his head. "I don't know..."

Black took his hand, pulling him back down to sit on the bank. "Then you might as well talk."

Primed to deliver an affecting lie, the truth came out in a burst. Severus was fortunate he remembered to change the house name in the story. "Even in Ravenclaw, it never pays to be too good at what you do. Excelling is fine, and people expect it of you, but people in other houses are never nice about it. Even in your own house, you end up with people who think you're useful, but don't really like you. And you hang around with them because you're just so grateful that someone is willing to spend time with you. You know all the while that they're whispering behind your back-- ugly, greasy hair... Then something bad happens and you realize you don't have any real friends, because you don't want anyone to see you." It was sickening to realize that every word was true. It was equally sickening to realize he was shaking.

Something warm pressed against his back; Black's arm, he realized. "Look, Selena. I don't know you. Maybe you're different tonight. But you're suspicious. You don't trust people-- you don't trust me. You were willing to believe the worst of me. If you treat everyone like that, no wonder you have trouble making friends."

And you know sod-all about what it's like to live in Slytherin, Black. "So, what? I'm supposed to bare by soul to everyone I meet?"

Black's other arm crept across Severus' chest, squeezing lightly. "You could try smiling more."

"You think smiling more will fix my problems?" Tears were coming to his eyes; he cursed his transformed body.

"I'd like it," Black whispered.

Black's sympathy was sapping the foundations of five years of hatred. Black actually seemed to care. The warmth of Black's body was flowing into his bones, seeping through his veins. Severus had craved this for nearly all of his life-- someone to listen to him, someone to hold him. Of all people, Sirius Black was giving him all of these things. More than that, the unheard of touch was leading to tingling in his nipples and between his thighs. It's a side effect, he told himself. Knowing it didn't make the sensations disappear.

Black's hand came up to stroke through his hair. Severus stiffened. He'll know now; he must. "Seems clean enough to me," Black murmured.

Severus drew in a deep breath. His heart beat faster. "Sirius, I--"

"Selena, let me... Ah, to hell with it." Black's fingers stroked, then laced through Severus' hair, pulling his head back. Black's lips came down onto Severus' parted ones, wet tongue tentatively moving between them. Severus heard Black moan, and Black's tongue thrust deeper.

Severus held himself still, mind whirling. Black's tongue slid slowly against Severus', and Severus felt heat spreading from his lips. ...God, if there's anything worse than sixteen-year-old hormones, it's the wrong sixteen-year-old hormones. And then Black's mouth moved against his, taking rationality with it.

Black whimpered again, tugging at the collar of Severus' robes, pulling the fastenings open. Severus felt a rush of desire. Oh, yes. Let him touch-- please.

He felt Black's murmur against his lips. "Mmm. You wear a lot of layers." Black's fingers rubbed at Severus' thin vest, trailing down to a nipple.

Severus jumped when Black's index finger circled the nipple. "Hmm, no brassiere," he whispered. The warm hand moved down to cup the breast, and Black backed away enough to take the shirt-covered nipple between his lips. Severus was incapable of any response beyond a gasp then a low moan as Black's tongue circled.

Black's hand, never still, slid down the center of Severus' chest. It stopped at the waistband of his pants.

Black's lips still moved on his nipple. Yes, yes, please. He could imagine it. God, touching me. No one touches me. Then Black would slide his hand into Severus' underwear and-- sheer terror drove the fantasy away. What the fuck am I doing?

He shoved at Black's chest, jerking his mouth away. "No."

"Selena, I'm not... I just want to feel closer to you."

"Forget it, Black. I don't care what you're used to, I'm not playing." Severus pulled away, rising and stepping several squelching paces along the lakeshore. The distance and the ordinary sound of mud beneath his shoes brought him to his senses. He was still breathing heavily.

"It's not a game. I like you. I didn't mean to scare you. Don't go."

Severus clutched at the collar of his robes, dragging them closed. "I've had a bad day. This isn't-- I can't. Goodbye." Still holding his shirt together, he ran off across the lawn, not caring anymore if anyone saw him. He had to reach the infirmary-- now.

He could hear Black crying his assumed name behind him. It served as a reminder of his sheer stupidity.

Later, in the infirmary, Professor Slughorn worked to reverse his potion-induced transformation, still berating him for running out of the classroom. He bore it, shaking, until Slughorn finally wound down, patting his shoulder. Severus registered the sympathy just as vaguely as he'd registered the lecture. All the time he sat in the infirmary, the same thoughts circled through his head. Dear God. I wanted to have sex with Sirius Black. What the hell did Pettigrew do to me?

---

Tuesday, October 12, 1976.

Severus sat in Potions class, listening to Professor Slughorn explain the latest potion. Meanwhile, Severus took notes in his Potions text-- modifying the standard potions with his own improvements. As always, the class asked a number of questions they should have known the answers to if they'd actually read the chapter. If I ever taught Advanced Potions, I wouldn't let anyone with less than an Outstanding OWL into the class. He waited for Professor Slughorn to finish repeating the simple explanation of why the potion needed to be stirred six times counterclockwise between additions of ingredients.

Another of the students asked Slughorn to repeat his explanation, and Slughorn launched into it once more. They never understand.

He tuned out the drone of Slughorn's voice, glancing around for some distraction. Pettigrew's quill was dutifully scratching away at parchment in front of him. Lupin was sharing a table with Pettigrew today; he was tapping at the table with the feather end of his quill. He's bored, too.

Over to his right, Black and Potter were whispering to each other and snickering. Lily Evans was seated in the front of the class with Slughorn's other favorites. She was still, neither writing nor chattering. It's fucking annoying that the only people who remotely understand are Lupin, Black, Potter, Evans, and me.

His eyes locked on Black and Potter. At least they could keep their mouths shut. That's another thing I'd never put up with if I taught this class.

He imagined himself standing up at the front of the classroom, captivating the students, deducting points from obnoxious gits like Potter and his cronies. Professor Slughorn's voice droned on. Severus spent a pleasant few minutes imagining deducting points from Gryffindor. The fantasy melted away, and, without quite perceiving how it happened, he realized he'd spent the past five minutes staring at the curls of black hair on Sirius Black's neck and the movement of the tendons in Black's neck as he and Potter continued to whisper to one another.

Severus dragged his eyes away, focusing once again on his Potions text. There was still nothing new from Professor Slughorn.

Fifteen minutes later, finally constructing his potion, he added the crushed Lady's Mantle and stirred carefully six times counterclockwise before reaching for the Sweet Violet. Stirring six more times counterclockwise, he waited for the potion to reach temperature and change color then extinguished the flame. Nothing to do but wait now.

He glanced around the classroom again, looking for distractions. It wasn't long before he found one-- again, damn it-- in Sirius Black.

---

That night, Severus dreamt of Black kneeling before him, sinful lips encircling his cock. Severus awoke in shock.

Before now, his dreams and fantasies had been clear of identifiable figures. Now, of all people, Sirius Black had appeared.

His heart pounded. He was hard-- painfully so. He took himself in the palm of his hand, pulling, stretching, and jerking.

The dream images flashed behind his eyelids-- Black, mouth wrapped around his cock. It would be hot and wet. He'd lace his fingers through Black's hair and thrust--

He came with a cry.

Lying in his own cooling sweat and come, he calmed himself with deep breaths.

He'd dreamt about Sirius Black-- a boy-- sucking him off. Now that the moment was over, he had no choice but to think. He was deeply unpracticed at desiring anyone. Severus' stomach clenched. A shirt-lifter? I can't be.

The incident by the lake had been fueled by his transformation, he told himself.

As for the dream-- he forced the dream images to the foreground again, and his heart accelerated. His cock, still spent, made a valiant effort to twitch. In the dark of his fantasy, Black knelt before him on a stone floor, mouth wrapping around his cock and grey eyes locked on his. Severus pushed the fantasy a little farther-- now Black cringed in fear, held in place by Severus' Petrificus totalus spell.

His cock twitched again.

He felt the relief in tandem with the rising desire. Power; it was about making Black suffer. It could have just as easily been Potter, Evans-- anyone Severus tried to change the image kneeling before him and failed. So, fine, I want to see Black humiliated more than anyone else.

His cock was stiffening, nearly recovered.

Severus deliberately let the fantasy of Black cringing before him play, touching himself. Take it, suck it, that's right--

Power. It was the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced.

---

Saturday, October 16, 1976 -- Sunday October 17, 1976.

He played with the power fantasies the rest of the week, giving himself quite a collection of dreams of humiliating Sirius Black, grinding him into the ground, seeing Black beg to touch him. When he watched Black in class, sometimes those images sprang to mind. He no longer cared that his eyes found Black in every room. Power: it was all a question of power.

Saturday night, he dreamt of himself kneeling before Black.

He awoke, gasping, still clearly picturing the open smile on Black's face, head thrown back in pleasure. He rolled onto his stomach with a whimper, trying to ignore his painfully hard cock. They missed something when they changed me back. God, I need this to stop.

Sunday morning, he broke into the Potions classroom.

He tried brewing an antidote to the most common lust potion, stealing the ingredients from the stores. He drank it with relief.

He walked into the Great Hall for dinner that evening, hoping to be cured. His eyes still found Black in every room; his heart rate still rose at the sound of his voice; his fantasies still revolved around Black. It's the potion. It has to be. It's not me.

---

Tuesday, October 19, 1976.

Watching Black, Potter, Lupin and Pettigrew snickering together as they left the Potions classroom on Tuesday, he snapped.

Severus grabbed Pettigrew by the throat and slammed him against the wall. The shorter boy outweighed Severus by a good two stone, but with the force of fear and fury, Severus was able to shake him until he heard Pettigrew's teeth rattle. Pettigrew's feet twitched below his robe. The boy's gasping, spitting noises provided a little pleasure, but nothing balanced the fury Severus felt. "What did you do to me?" he hissed, shaking the boy and slamming him against the wall again.

"When?"

"Before, you fool! What did you put in the potion?"

"But that was more than a week ago!" Pettigrew sounded honestly bewildered.

Severus shook him again. "What did you put in the fucking potion?"

"Nothing more than you deserved."

Severus slammed him into the wall again. "What did you add to it?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, S-Snivellus?"

Little monster. Severus banged Pettigrew into the wall twice more. "Tell me what you did, you miserable sneak. What was in it?"

Pettigrew squealed at the renewed attack on his throat. "Nothing, just herbs! I grabbed a few handfuls of herbs out of the kitchen. Let me go!"

"Snape, let him go!" Severus became aware of the voices behind him, Potter, Lupin, and Black.

Severus shook Pettigrew hard, ignoring the protests. "Which herbs?"

"I don't know!" Tears rose to Pettigrew's eyes, but Severus ignored them. Having seen the other's dark side, he felt no pity.

Hands on his shoulders, then, trying to pull him off the other boy. Six hands, but only two burned where they touched. "Let him go, Snape!" Black hissed.

Severus opened his hands, dropping Pettigrew into a trembling weeping heap, letting Black, Potter, and Lupin drag him away from Pettigrew.

There were three of them, but, to Severus, only one mattered. He raised his arms to shove away Black's-- burning-- hands. "Let go of me, Black."

"Why can't you leave Peter alone, Snape?" Potter snapped.

Snape shot him a glance before returning his glare to Black, meeting and holding the other's eyes. "I told you to let go of me, Sirius," he hissed. "Do you do it, or do I make you?"

"You're not in a position to be making demands," Potter said, all bluff and bravado.

And still Black's hands burned against his arm and his side. "Let go," Severus said evenly, eyes remaining locked with Black's.

He saw the confusion in Black's grey eyes, the slight drawing together of his brows, the slow parting of his lips, his tongue licking against the lower lip. And, too suddenly, Severus imagined that tongue against his own lip, imagined those burning hands sliding higher, pulling him closer.

His lips parted before he realized it. He pressed them closed, holding them tight to the point of pain. Severus had no idea what Black read in his face, in his eyes, but the other boy was suddenly releasing him and backing away.

"Let him go," Black said hoarsely. "Moony, Prongs-- let him go."

The other hands left his arms, and Severus leaned against the wall, rubbing suddenly sore wrists, still watching Black. He felt one corner of his mouth quirk up in a smile.

"Let's get out of here," Black said, voice still hoarse.

Severus watched silently as Black rounded up his friends, Lupin helping the still weeping Pettigrew to his feet, and left.

"How'd you do it?" It was Avery; Severus looked around to see he had more of an audience than he'd realized. Avery, Lestrange, and Rosier stood leaning against the corridor wall a few feet away. "I thought they'd kill you."

"And thank you for all of your support," Severus snapped, still rubbing at his wrists. Why was Lestrange here? He wasn't in Advanced Potions.

Lestrange said, "If you want to get yourself killed by going after one Mudblood-loving Gryffindor in the middle of the hallway, that's your call. Besides, it didn't look like you needed any help."

It was a question-- a demand to know how he'd managed it. He forced an easy shrug. "They act on impulse, but give them awhile to think, and even a Gryffindor will realize where his best advantage lies."

"My, my," Lestrange drawled, "you actually think they're capable of reason."

Severus rotated his neck, trying to ease the shock of being slammed into the wall. It was a good way to delay responding. He couldn't help but remember Black's sympathy that night by the lake; he quashed the memory and responded with his usual arrogance. "Even the most mindless of beasts can learn to avoid danger to some degree. Apparently, Black is no different."

Lestrange laughed, leaving-- presumably for a class of his own. Severus knew his explanation had passed muster, with them, if not with himself. Why did Black let me go? What did he see? He straightened, disengaging from the wall's support, and walked over to Avery and Rosier, joining them in their trek to Defense Against the Dark Arts, still wondering.

---

Later that day.

Spending time in the library was hardly unusual, and no one would question him spending a couple more hours there each day. To be fair, no one in my house even notices where I spend my time.

He started with the cure he'd brewed for Pettigrew, noting down the ingredients and quantities. Using the most comprehensive potions reference available, he started by referring to its largest ingredient by volume: common chamomile.

The index showed no sex-changing potions or lust potions associated with the ingredient. He noted the name and type of each associated potion, however, before moving onto the next ingredient. While he was using the most comprehensive reference available, there were certainly variations on potions that were not included, as well as newer formulations and creations in the research press, and even older potions that had fallen into disuse when replaced by newer concoctions that were simpler to brew or performed the task more effectively.

Still, he had to begin somewhere.

"Pettigrew and his fucking 'handful of herbs,'" he muttered to himself an hour and a half later, as he slammed the reference closed.

He'd found the same sex-change potion cross-referenced under several of his ingredients, but nothing love- or lust-inducing.

And, further, the book said what he'd remembered from every Potions textbook they'd used: Potions dissipate as the magical charge in the herbs they contain is consumed, or as they pass through the system of the recipient. The dissipation is faster for potions that are consumed orally and slower for those applied topically. The maximal effective length for any potion has never exceeded one week.

My luck Pettigrew's managed to create an entirely new potion. Think of the applications.

---

Wednesday, October 20, 1976.

Another day in the library after class, and another day of searching. It was as fruitless as his first search. All references he consulted said the same thing: unless the potion itself was fatal, the effects of a potion were not permanent. They ceased when one of the following occurred, and only as long as the first: the inherent magic in the least magical herb was consumed or the potion completed its passage through the bloodstream or digestive tract of the person affected.

Topical solutions tended to be weaker, but last longer. Ingested potions were stronger but more transient. Washing immediately after the topical application of a potion would sometimes prevent or weaken its effects; purging after ingesting a potion would do the same.

No matter what he read, nothing suggested that the duration of any potion-induced effects would last longer than a week.

Which left him-- where? Unable to assign blame to Pettigrew for his current Sirius Black obsession. Though I can certainly blame him for a host of other sins.

Does that mean I actually want Sirius Black? It was a concept that was losing its horror due to familiarity.

With a frustrated groan that prompted a hissed "Hush" from Madam Pince, Severus leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Nothing to be done then. He sighed, closed his books, and rose to leave the library.

Halfway to the door, he remembered something else he'd wanted to research, but had no clue where to begin.

After a murmured conversation with Madam Pince (who seemed to have forgiven his groan in light of his interest in actual research), he made his way to the shelves of Muggle poetry.

Madam Pince had been helpfully familiar with the poets frequently covered in Muggle Studies courses, so he had a manageable number of options. With the further restriction that the quoted poem was likely well-known, she'd suggested looking through collections.

Twenty minutes of searching and he'd found it.

He snorted faintly, soft enough to avoid Madam Pince's reproof. Odd choice. Had Severus truly been a fifth-year Ravenclaw named Selena, he would have undoubtedly been highly offended. As he was none of these things-- Perhaps more appropriate than he knew-- the last stanza, at least.

He closed the book and nodded his thanks to Madam Pince as he left the library.

---

Friday, October 22, 1976.

It was two weeks after Severus' unexpected transformation, and Severus was watching Black at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He'd almost grown used to it at this point. He still had the same appalling dreams at night, but to those, too, he'd almost become accustomed. After all, they're just fantasies. It's none of it real. Clearly, it was an oddity, nothing more-- nothing real, nothing dangerous.

Black leaned toward Potter; Severus saw his lips move. Black straightened in his seat, then he rose and walked around the foot of the table. Has he noticed me watching?

Black continued past the foot of the Hufflepuff table to the Ravenclaw table.

As Black walked up behind the Ravenclaw table, Severus knew he could no longer watch him without being obvious; Severus stared, instead, at his plate.

He could faintly hear Black's voice, and the response of someone at the Ravenclaw table, but the Great Hall was too noisy to make out any of the words. A few minutes more of inaudible conversation, then silence. He looked up to Sirius making his way hurriedly past the end of the Slytherin table and out the double doors of the Great Hall.

Quite suddenly, he felt sick. No. I'm wrong. It can't mean anything. His gut remained unconvinced. Appetite gone, he pushed his plate forward. He set his palms flat on the tabletop, preparing to rise.

Something touched his shoulder, checking his rise before he could begin. He looked up to see Rabastan Lestrange looking down at him, hand on Severus' shoulder. "Snape, I want to talk to you."

"All right."

Lestrange dropped his hand. "After you."

Severus rose from the bench, then turned and walked between the tables, through the doors, and out of the hall. He stopped, turning back. Lestrange had stopped a pace or two behind him.

"What is it, Lestrange?"

"Meet me in the common room at eight tomorrow."

Severus swallowed. "Why?"

Lestrange smiled. "You'll see. You'll be there?"

It was hardly even a choice. He'd waited years to be noticed. "I'll be there."

Lestrange nodded. "Good." He turned and walked away.

Severus walked slowly to the stone wall, turning and leaning against it. Tomorrow, I'll know.

The triumph he felt turned into sickness a moment later; Ellen Banks, one of the sixth-year Ravenclaw prefects, was leaving the hall with her friend, a girl whose name Severus had never cared enough to recall. "I told you, Mary," she said as they passed by Severus, "I don't have any idea who 'Selena' is. That's what I told him."

"It figures," Mary responded. "Sirius Black's finally interested in some girl in our house, and no one has any clue who it is."

The conversation continued as they walked on, but Severus couldn't make out the words.

---

Saturday, October 23, 1976.

Severus decided waiting in the common room for Lestrange to arrive would be just too pathetic. All in all, it was a fine decision, but deciding didn't mean he wasn't waiting in the room he shared twenty minutes early. He checked the time, rose to pace around the room, sat down, and checked the time-- 7:43-- then repeated the process all over again.

Finally, five minutes before eight, he went down to the common room, arriving with three minutes to spare. He sat down in a high-backed chair in front of the fire. As usual, the other Slytherins ignored him. He stared intently at the rough stone walls.

Lestrange was precisely ten minutes late.

Severus had the satisfaction of knowing he had only been sitting in the common room thirteen minutes, though he'd been waiting half an hour. The knowledge that he'd been waiting eagerly for an appointment the other boy couldn't bother to be on time for rankled. It just showed-- as if he needed it-- who mattered and who didn't.

Lestrange paused for a moment in the common room, turned and met Severus' eyes. Lestrange broke the gaze, looked at the stone wall that opened on the corridor, met Severus' eyes again, then exited through the wall into the corridor.

With a twitch of both excitement and self-disgust, Severus rose to his feet and exited in his turn.

Lestrange was waiting in the hallway. "You came. Let's go."

Severus nodded. He was at a loss for words. He licked at dry lips. "Is anyone else coming?"

"No."

Lestrange's terse answer cut off Severus' brief conversational gambit. They continued without speaking through the halls, outdoors past the edge of the lake. Fallen leaves crunched beneath their feet. October nights in general were dark and cold, tonight, with the new moon, was even darker. Severus found himself glancing at the lake. He realized he was looking-- again, damn it-- for Sirius Black. It was dark enough that Severus couldn't have seen him, even if he were there.

Lestrange led them into the Forbidden Forest. A few feet in, he took out his wand. "Lumos." It was possible to make out the trail in the faint wandlight.

Severus' heart rate picked up. Soon enough.

They walked down a twisted path until they reached what appeared to be a clearing, in the combination of faint wandlight and starlight.

Lestrange stopped. Severus tried and failed to stifle the question. "What now?"

"We wait."

A few minutes later, there was a loud crack that Severus identified as Apparition. He couldn't make out anything beyond a shadowy figure until it moved into the glow of Lestrange's wand.

Pale blond hair, sharp features, and a look of disdain-- very familiar. He struggled with the memory. Lucius Malfoy; Head Boy my first year.

The man spoke in a voice which dripped arrogance. "Good evening, Rabastan. And you must be Severus Snape."

Severus nodded. No surprise he doesn't remember me. That Malfoy hadn't introduced himself did not escape him. I wonder if he knows I recognize him?

"Some of your schoolmates have suggested you might be interested in what we have to offer you."

"And that is?"

"Respect. Power."

Severus closed his eyes. Respect. Power. He was not fool enough to believe either came without a price, and five full years in Slytherin had taught him that no one would freely offer him anything. That Lestrange had clearly been sold on the idea suggested that it had a prospect of success, however. Lestrange was too convinced of his own importance. And Malfoy-- from what Severus remembered, Malfoy was even more desperate for greatness. And, in the end, did it matter what the price was if he finally had a chance to belong? "How, and what do I have to do?"

Malfoy smiled.

---

Sunday, October 24, 1976.

The next evening, Severus walked swiftly through the common room and into the corridor. He was still pondering his conversation with Malfoy. Mudbloods everywhere; acting like they're real wizards. A chance to put them in their place. A chance to show what I can do.

He heard voices in the hallway; the identity of one dragged him out of his contemplations: Sirius Black.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

The voice was sulky. "I thought you made it clear you didn't want to deal with us when you moved out, Sirius."

"That didn't mean you, that was our parents. You know that."

The response was filled with the familiar tones of offended dignity. "Maybe I don't want to talk to you, then."

"Regulus, you're my brother." Severus had forgotten Sirius Black had a brother in Slytherin. He'd never had much reason to pay attention to the lower years. Regulus Black is-- what?-- fourth year? fifth year?

"Not anymore, I'm not. You walk out,"--Oh, yes, definitely offended dignity-- "you say you don't want anything to do with us, you ignore me the rest of the summer, and now you want to talk to me? Forget it." A thump. "And let go, Sirius."

"Look, Regulus, I just want to ask you about-- "

"I don't care. I'm not telling you anything. Let go."

And Severus recognized this as an opportunity. He grabbed it with both hands. He stepped around the corner and into the argument. "Is there some problem?"

Black's hand was firmly closed about the wrist of a younger boy, clearly his brother Regulus. Regulus was jerking his arm, attempting to break Black's grip. Severus studied Regulus for the first time, registering the family resemblance-- black hair, grey eyes, slim aristocratic nose. Regulus was a slightly rougher copy of Black-- a boy who would have been considered handsome, he supposed, had he not been Sirius Black's brother.

Severus pulled his eyes from Regulus to look at Black. Black's face bore the furious expression with which Severus was so familiar. "No one asked you, Snape."

"So true, Black. But it seems you're busy bothering a Slytherin-- preventing him from entering the common room, no less."

"I'm trying to talk to my brother, Snape."

Severus directed his gaze pointedly at Black's grip on Regulus' arm. "And clearly you feel a need to grab him to do it. How touching."

"Leave us alone, Snape."

"Odd," Severus moved forward, lowering his voice, "your brother hasn't made a similar request. Perhaps he isn't quite so eager for a chat with you. Let him go."

Black's eyes narrowed, but he let loose his grip. "It's not your business." Out of the corner of his eye, Severus saw Regulus rubbing at his wrist. He registered the movement, but, as always, was intent on Sirius Black.

"Quite right." Severus pulled himself back to his purpose. "Regulus Black, do you wish to speak with your brother?"

Regulus continued to rub at his wrist. He thrust his chin into the air. In the same tone of offended dignity, he said, "Hardly. He's no brother of mine." Regulus turned and hurried down the passageway, heading in the general direction of the Slytherin common room.

His departure left Severus alone with Sirius Black. "It seems to me that your brother wasn't interested, Black."

"You had no right to interfere, Snivellus."

"Didn't I? My mistake." Even fraught with tension and rising anger, the proximity to Black was arousing, as was the realization that Black was actually talking to him for once-- not as he had by the lake, but talking.

"Maybe you can help me," Black's insults abruptly turned to cajoling.

"And you think calling me 'Snivellus' is a good way to enlist my aid?"

"All right, fine. I'm sorry."

"Well, well. Call The Daily Prophet. Sirius Black has apologized." He paused a beat. "Now, what do you want?"

"Look, I met this girl; she said she's in Ravenclaw. She's not. Fifth year, she said. Pale, with long dark hair. Selena. She in Slytherin?"

Severus froze in place, solid clear through. "I don't know the names of all the fifth years," he said, truthfully enough, "as far as I know, there's no one here named Selena." Put an end to it, he thought, but couldn't quite bring himself to do it. "Why do you want to know?"

Black gave an easy shrug. "Nice girl; seemed sad. Wanted to see if she's all right."

"Ah. The noble Gryffindor in action. She lied, and you feel compelled to play knight in shining armor. Far be it from me to quibble."

Black shrugged again. He turned and walked away. "Thanks, Snape."

Second civil conversation I've ever had with him. He waited long enough for Black to reach the stairs, then followed the same path.

---

Monday, October 25, 1976.

Returning from the library the following day, Severus noticed Regulus Black walking alone in the same direction.

He quickened his pace and caught up with the younger boy.

"Black."

Regulus darted a look up at him. "Yes."

Severus could read the distaste in Regulus' expression. Arrogant, just like his brother. Too bad. He owes me. Severus gave his best impression of sympathy. "I noticed you and your brother were having a disagreement the other day."

Severus watched the Adam's apple move in Regulus' throat as he swallowed. The response was shaky. "Yes, well, thanks."

Sympathy was not something Severus was practiced at. "Why?"

Regulus' robe bunched up showing tension in his shoulders. "I don't want to talk to him."

The pretense of sympathy was worth the effort if only to find out why. "He's family, isn't he?"

"Not anymore." Severus could see Regulus had no desire to continue the conversation with him but also saw no way to extricate himself.

Severus cast about for a way to continue the chat-- and perhaps extract more information in the process. He found it in an unlikely place. "He's hardly my friend, either. In fact, it's odd. He asked me about a girl-- whether she was in Slytherin."

Regulus snorted. "A girl? You're joking."

"No. He said she'd lied about her house and he was looking for her."

Regulus shook his head. "I've no clue what he was about, then. Sirius has no use for girls."

Severus drew in a sharp breath, then forced himself to breathe evenly. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, just-- he hardly notices them. Mother said that he-- but father said she was wrong." Regulus shrugged. His usual tone of injured dignity returned. "Doesn't matter. He moved out-- prefers Potter and Potter's family to us. As far as I'm concerned, he's not my brother anymore."

They finished the walk to the common room in silence; once inside, Regulus made a hasty departure. Severus hardly noticed, still thinking. "Sirius has no use for girls."

It was sickening that he actually felt hope at that statement-- even if he was interpreting it correctly, it certainly didn't mean Sirius Black had any interest in Severus Snape. A few minutes later, and he'd realized that he'd almost certainly misinterpreted-- or Black's family had. For someone uninterested in girls, Black had certainly been interested in "Selena."

---

Friday, November 5, 1976.

Severus made a point to continue speaking with Regulus. By Friday, Regulus no longer looked pained. Severus had still not learned much more about Black's estrangement from his family. Then again, he'd not yet worked out how to ask without revealing too much interest in the subject.

"Hullo, Snape," Regulus said, nodding as Severus met him outside the common room.

"Off to dinner?"

Regulus nodded.

"I'll walk with you."

Severus and Regulus were discussing Potions lessons when they arrived before the door of the Great Hall at the same time as Black and his friends.

Black's eyes met Severus', conveying fury and outrage. What now?

Black looked away, nodded at his friends and stood waiting before the doors.

Severus looked back at Regulus. "Looks like your brother is back."

Regulus sniffed, lifting his nose high. "I still don't wish to speak with him." He said the words in a cold, clear voice.

Severus saw Black jerk at the statement.

"That's fine, Regulus. It's not you I want to speak to in any case."

Severus glanced over at Regulus, whose thin nose lifted higher in the air. Regulus walked faster, breaking away from Snape's side, then sweeping by his brother and through the doors.

"What are you trying to accomplish, Snivellus?"

It was as good a reminder as anything that, dreams and fantasies aside, Severus had very little in common with Sirius Black. "I beg your pardon?"

Black snorted. "No, you don't. Just stay away from my brother, Snape. You've been hanging around him the past week. Leave off. You're the last person he needs to deal with."

Severus shook his head slowly, then pursed his lips. "And here I thought you wanted my help, Black."

"Help? You must be joking."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Any luck finding the girl, Black?"

Black's lips pinched together, white. "I'm telling you, Snape. Keep away from my brother or I will rip you to pieces."

Whatever I was lusting after, it certainly wasn't the personality. "I'd enjoy watching you try, Black."

Black stepped forward, stopping within a foot of Severus. "I'm sure you would."

Severus resisted the urge to back away. "Too bad McGonagall would have a fit, isn't it?"

"Like you care."

Suddenly, he was tired of it. Black wanted to fight; why not? Doing something so simple as fighting would be a relief at this point. "You're right. I don't. But I'd like to rip you apart without interference."

Black snorted. "And you think you can?"

Severus shook his head. He'd spent five years demonstrating his superiority to Black and his friends. "Oh, yes, Black. I can." And you know I can.

"Fine. Tomorrow." Black spat the challenge.

"Tomorrow." Severus smiled.

"Show me what you can do."

Severus had developed any number of his own spells that Black wouldn't be expecting. "With pleasure. Where?"

Black lifted his chin, looking down the length of his nose at Severus. Severus felt abrupt resentment of Black's additional inches of height. "The Whomping Willow. There's a knot at the base. Hit it with a stick and a passageway will open. It will lead you to the Shrieking Shack. I'll met you there after dinner-- seven o'clock."

Severus started; he'd not known about the passageway, and the setup seemed too elaborate. "If this is a trick to get me in trouble with the professors-- "

"Hardly." Black's lip drew up in a sneer.

"Fine. Tomorrow."

Severus turned on his heel and stormed away as Black entered the Great Hall. I'm not waiting for tomorrow night; I'm checking now. He continued out to the grounds. It was already dark, and he lit the tip of his wand as he made his way to the Whomping Willow.

He kept carefully out of range of the Whomping Willow's flailing branches as he circled around the tree to search for the knot. He's probably lying to me. There's nothing. Two more circles, and he saw the knot.

So there is a knot. He dismissed the light at the tip of his wand and grabbed a willow branch from the ground, wrapping his right hand around the wand and branch together.

Watching the limbs above carefully, preparing to break and run at any moment, Severus ran up to the trunk of the tree, then poked the knot with the stick.

To his amazement, the tree froze in place, opening a passage at its base. That much is true at least.

He darted in the opening. It shut behind him. He heard the thumps as the tree awoke.

"Lumos." He walked down the passageway-- very long-- opening the door at the end. Looking around at the damaged walls and out the windows, he knew he must be in the Shrieking Shack as promised.

He looked around the building a few more minutes and then walked back down the passageway to the closed portal at the base of the tree. In wandlight, he found another knot to press. The portal opened, and he dashed out and out of range of the stilled tree before it could renew its rampage.

Tomorrow.

---

Saturday, November 6, 1976.

Immediately after supper, he left the Great Hall with barely a murmured word to Avery.

He slipped out into the darkness, careful to stay out of sight of the castle windows. He made his way to the Whomping Willow. Black and his friends had missed supper, but Severus had no fear that Black would miss their appointment. He was probably already waiting.

He paced back and forth a few minutes. He bit at his lower lip. It would be humiliating to lose, but then, he had no intention of losing. He would wipe the floor with Black's handsomely arrogant face-- make him pay for everything: every slight and every unwanted feeling of attraction.

With resolution, he felt around for the stick he'd dropped in the bushes after his earlier exploration. A whispered "Lumos" brought his wand to light; he shielded it with one hand as he waited for his eyes to adjust.

Fortunately, he could see the tree in the rising full moonlight, but he could seriously injure himself if he tripped on uneven ground on the way to the knot-- stay too long in one place and he'd be hit by the tree.

Timing again, and with the advantage of earlier exploration, he dashed forward, poked at the knot, and ducked into the tunnel while the tree was frozen.

Removing the shield of his hand from the end of his lit wand, he picked his way carefully down the passageway. The path had seemed clear enough earlier, but he wouldn't put an ambush past Black or any of his cronies.

When he was what he judged to be three-quarters of the way down the passage, he heard rapid footfalls behind him.

He increased his pace.

The other was running. "Snape, stop!"

It wasn't Black-- Potter. Severus had never been an athlete, and wasn't going to start now. Running was beneath his dignity in any case, he told himself.

He was nearly to the end of the passageway when Potter caught him, all the same. Potter was carrying his broomstick in one hand.

Potter grabbed at his wrist with his free hand. "Snape-- wait. Turn around-- "

Severus turned his wrist sharply, breaking Potter's grip. "Afraid I'm going to hurt your friend?"

"No-- look-- please, go back. Sirius forgot-- tonight, not tonight. We need to go back now."

"And where is Black?"

"He's back at the tower. Look, come on!" Untrusting as he was, Severus could hear the edge of panic in Potter's voice.

"Why?"

"We don't have-- "

A growl at the end of the passageway and Severus turned to look. He froze at the sight of a wolf with bared teeth in wandlight. Fuck-- moon-- Lupin-- wolf--

"Fucking hell," Potter breathed. "I can't even-- there's no room-- " The wolf edged forward.

"Impedimenta!" Severus cried. He saw the spell hit, but the wolf barely flinched, considering it's slow movement toward them.

"Like that's going to-- "

"Then do something yourself!" Severus snapped, not taking his eyes off the wolf.

"Come on!" Potter mounted his broomstick, and, dignity be damned; this time, Severus mounted behind him. Potter kicked off and the broomstick shot forward, slowed by their double weight, but still moving faster than Severus could run. He risked a look over his shoulder. Faster than the wolf can run, too.

The ride was the subject of nightmares. They frequently almost collided with the tunnel roof and the floor, and Severus' shoulders scraped against the tunnel walls at least five times. With each scrape, he swore he could hear the wolf closing in on them, breathing down their necks. They stopped long enough for Potter to hit the knot at the end of the passageway, then flew through the opening, across the grounds, and into the entrance hall. Severus loosed his grip on Potter and dismounted.

Potter dismounted from his broomstick and leaned it against the wall, drawing in deep breaths.

Severus stared at Potter. The other boy's face was red, his glasses askew. For once, his hair was legitimately mussed.

It was there, gasping for breath, that fury overcame terror.

"So, you and your friends thought it would be funny to feed me to the werewolf, did you?"

Potter herked in place. He looked up at Severus, right hand lifting. "No, Snape, it's not like that. Sirius just forgot tonight was a full moon, and-- "

Severus shook his head, mouth twisting. "Sixth year, and he forgot? I'm not a fool. God, I knew he was a werewolf. I'm certain all of you did."

Potter's hand fell back against his side. He frowned, blinking rapidly. "Wait-- you knew?"

You really must think I'm an idiot, don't you? He crossed his arms over his chest. "That your quiet friend is a werewolf? Obviously."

Potter's mouth fell open; his eyebrows drew together. He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Then why did you-- "

Severus snorted, cutting him short. "I didn't know he stayed down that passageway. It's a hell of a prank, Potter, murder."

"I told you, it was an accident!" Potter took a step toward him. His arm raised again.

Severus took a step back, reaching into his pocket after his wand. "An accident? If you-- "

A new voice broke in. "What's going on here?" McGonagall-- she was bound to be sympathetic to Potter, Black, and their little murderous prank.

"Potter and his friends thought it would be amusing to feed me to Lupin, their pet werewolf." He heard his voice rising into a shriek.

"That's not it, we-- "

McGonagall backed up and held out her hand, palm forward. "No. This goes immediately to the Headmaster. Now, Mr Snape, Mr Potter."

---

McGonagall walked quickly, hurrying them through the corridors. "Fizzing Whizbee," and they were past the gargoyles, up the moving spiral stair to Dumbledore's office. Severus had been there before in some of his encounters with Potter and his friends. Normally, he was apprehensive. Today, he was furious. At McGonagall's quick rap on the door, the headmaster admitted them.

As during his past visits, Dumbledore sat behind his great desk, fingers templed before his lips. Severus was surprised anew by the sharpness of the headmaster's eyes. "So, it is Mr Potter and Mr Snape again."

Several of the portraits of former headmasters snored; one laughed. "Set them to scrubbing the entryway, Albus. That's always a good one."

"I think it's rather more serious than that, Headmaster," said McGonagall.

"I see." Dumbledore gestured, and Severus stepped in front of the desk, joined by Potter.

McGonagall quickly described the argument in the entrance hall. Dumbledore's eyes met Severus'. Severus forced himself not to look away. Dumbledore finally broke the gaze, looking over at Potter. As McGonagall wrapped up her explanation, Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Your version first, Mr Potter."

And doesn't that just figure. "Sirius told me he and Snape had set up a duel tonight-- he'd told Snape how to get into the shack, they were meeting at seven. I don't know why-- something earlier today or yesterday, I think-- and he was angry. He forgot it was a full moon tonight, that Lupin would be there, and-- so, when he told me, I got there as quickly as I could."

"I see." Dumbledore's eyes turned and fixed on Severus again. "And your version, Mr Snape?"

The fury and bitterness of over five years with Potter and his repulsive friends colored his words. "Oh, yes. A duel. That was my plan, but not theirs. He was just looking for an excuse to play a stupid prank and get me killed. Sixth year, and he forgot Lupin's a werewolf?"

"I see." Severus was pinned by Dumbledore's usually innocuous gaze. It was a relief when the Headmaster looked away. "Minerva, escort Mr Potter back to his room, and bring Sirius Black here, if you please. In the meantime, I would like to speak with Mr Snape."

"Yes, Albus." McGonagall gestured to Potter, who preceded her out of the room.

The eyes were intent on him again. "Sit down, Mr Snape."

Severus tensed his back, then stalked over to one of the pair of armchairs arranged in front of Dumbledore's desk. He sat stiffly.

Dumbledore drummed his fingers against the desktop. He spoke very slowly, each word seeming deliberately chosen. "I will have to talk to Mr Black, but I think it likely to be an accident as Mr Potter claimed."

Severus shook his head. He made no effort to conceal his resentment. "And, once again, the gang of Gryffindors avoids punishment."

Severus expected a reprimand, but Dumbledore only sighed. He raised steepled fingers to his lips. "Avoid it, they won't, but there's a limit to what can be done here."

Severus shook his head. And I know very well why. "Because Black's family is powerful and I'm nobody, right?"

Dumbledore sighed again and closed his eyes. "You misunderstand me, Mr Snape. I am far more concerned with protecting Mr Lupin. Whatever you may think of Mr Potter and Mr Black, he would never have agreed to any prank putting a life at risk."

Severus snorted. As if Lupin ever stopped them before? Lupin was a prefect, he'd watched the entire shameful incident when Potter and Black had publicly humiliated Severus. He hadn't done anything to stop them. "He would never object either."

Dumbledore's eyes were open again, fixed on Severus. "To this, he would. It puts his life at risk as well, you know." He shook his head. "He's the most innocent party here, for all the danger to you."

Once again it was all about the favored four. "And I suppose Potter earns House points for his daring rescue?" He let the bitterness fill his voice.

Dumbledore dropped his hands to the desktop. "House points cannot come into this. Whatever else, I would like to protect Mr Lupin's secret. I promise you, Sirius Black will be punished in line with the offense he intended to commit-- whatever that was. But I will have your word not to reveal Mr Lupin's secret, Mr Snape."

Severus shuddered. And now, it's all my fault. "I will not tell anyone about it. I haven't told anyone in the past six months, have I?"

"Your word." The headmaster's voice was iron.

Severus bristled. I could have died tonight-- or worse, become less than human. And what is the headmaster concerned about? Lupin. "As long as Lupin does not menace me or anyone else, I will say nothing."

Dumbledore's eyes were sharp on his. Severus held his gaze for what felt like several minutes, but was probably no more than a few seconds. "That is acceptable, Mr Snape. Would you like to return to your room?"

Severus set his jaw. "No. I want to hear what Black has to say for himself." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Dumbledore drummed his fingers against the desktop again. He nodded slowly. "All right."

At that opportune moment, McGonagall returned with Sirius Black in tow. "Headmaster."

"Thank you, Minerva. You may retire." The professor nodded, and, turning, walked out of Severus' line of sight. By the sound of the door opening and closing, he assumed she'd departed. "Mr. Black, step forward." Black walked forward. "Sit down."

Black sat in the chair next to Severus, darting a glare which Severus returned. Black turned to watch Dumbledore. Severus kept his eyes firmly fixed on Black.

"Perhaps you would care to explain, Mr Black," Dumbledore said.

"What'd he tell you?" Black's voice was filled with contempt.

Severus heard Dumbledore's sigh. "That is not your concern. I would like to hear what you have to say."

"Snape and I were having an argument yesterday. We thought we'd settle it with a duel. I told him how to get to the Shrieking Shack; forgot it was full moon." Black spoke in a clipped voice.

"I'm hardly surprised Mr Lupin told his friends how to access the passageway. I am concerned that you do not appear to recognize the implications of what you've done."

"Why? -- I mean, why, sir? He's fine." Black shot a look over at Severus; they exchanged another glare before Black looked back toward Dumbledore.

"I am not certain which 'he' you are referring to, Mr Black. But, as you clearly do not recognize what you have done, allow me to enlighten you. Accepting everything you have told me to be true, it was foolish in the extreme to reveal the secret of Mr Lupin's sanctuary." Yes, yes. It's all about protecting poor innocent Lupin from the evil Slytherin.

Black leaned forward in his chair. "If it hadn't been full moon-- "

"Mr Snape might have visited the Shrieking Shack again in the future on an evening of the full moon."

"Maybe."

"You put his life at risk, and your friend's secret at risk."

"I'm sorry, sir. But it's all right, isn't it? I wasn't thinking, but I didn't want Snape to get hurt." Black's voice was plaintive.

"Indeed, Mr Black. I believe that. However, here we reach the crux of the matter. Why is it that Mr Potter went after Mr Snape?" Ah, so the headmaster wanted me dead as well. Why am I not surprised?

"James went after him when we realized it was full moon." So heroic.

"For which I am certain Mr Snape acknowledges his debt to Mr Potter, and for which I am certain you are grateful as well." Debt? God, I owe him a Wizard's Debt because of their little prank. Dumbledore was silent through a couple of Severus' heartbeats. "I must inquire, Mr Black, why it is that your friend risked his life instead of you? And, further, you must have realized the danger to Mr Snape somewhat before your proposed meeting time, given that you made your appointment yesterday, and moonrise was before five o'clock today and required Mr Lupin's early departure. Why, pray tell, was a last-minute rescue necessary?" Severus' head snapped around, staring at Dumbledore. Dumbledore's hands lay flat against the desk, and he sat leaned back in his chair. Yet, there was nothing casual about the posture.

"Headmaster, I'm sorry."

The fingers of Dumbledore's right hand drummed against the desktop. "I am sure I need not tell you how disappointed I am. I had never expected such behavior from you."

"Yes, sir." Black swallowed audibly. "Are you going to expel me?"

"I am not." There was a pause. It gave Severus' cynicism time to reassert itself. He hadn't expected to see Dumbledore give Black much of a dressing-down. But, as for punishment-- they'd expel me. Dumbledore spoke again. "Do not think this is a reprieve. We will discuss the nature of your punishment tomorrow. It will be commensurate with the offense. The second step, naturally, will be explaining to Mr Lupin the situation you have placed him in. I will see you here in my office tomorrow at ten in the morning. However, before you go, you will apologize to Mr Snape."

"Sorry, Snape."

Severus looked over at Black at the apology, but Black wasn't looking at him.

"You misunderstand me, Mr Black." For the first time, Severus understood that Dumbledore was furious. For me. He didn't want me dead; he cares. "Stand up, Mr Black, Mr Snape."

Severus pulled himself out of the chair, still reeling. He saw Black pull himself to his feet.

"Turn to face each other." Severus turned, meeting Black's grey eyes.

"Now, your apology."

Black thrust out his lower jaw. "I'm sorry, Snape."

"Mr Snape, accept Mr Black's apology." Dumbledore said.

Black was scowling, glaring at Severus with narrowed eyes. "He doesn't mean it, sir."

Dumbledore sighed and Severus looked to see a frown on the headmaster's face. "I see. I want to hear your word-- both of you-- that there will be no more fights-- no more duels-- none of it. Your oaths on it, please."

Severus said, "As long as he doesn't threaten me, you have it."

Black said, "As long as he keeps away from us, sir."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. And Severus knew that the headmaster had caught the very careful wording they had used. "That will do to be going on with. You may go."

Severus followed Black out of the room. For once, he was too caught by his own thoughts and fury to feel the usual physical awareness of Black's presence. For once, he could hate Black with every fiber of his being.

Descending the moving staircase, Severus was insulated by this unmitigated antipathy.

At the foot of the stairs, Black turned immediately in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Severus turned and started in the opposite direction; it would take longer to reach Slytherin by this route, but he needed to be as far away as possible from Sirius Black.

"Snape-- wait."

Severus stopped, turning his head to look back.

Black stood, facing him. "I don't like you, but I wouldn't have tried to kill you."

The rage rose and crested, leaving Severus' lips trembling. "As you say. Good night, Black." He turned his head sharply back and stalked away.

---

Friday, November 12, 1976.

And, once again, Severus found himself beside the side of the lake, pitching stones-- dislodging the smooth surface and sending ripples through the reflected stars. He threw another stone, focusing on the sucking splop as the lake seemed to suck it down. He imagined it sinking, striking one of the merfolk squarely on the head.

He laughed sneeringly at his own conceit.

"Selena? Is that you? I need to talk to you."

He stiffened, then relaxed. Black, naturally. He repressed the urge to answer in the affirmative. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else, Black. And I'm sure I'm no one you want to see."

"Snape." The bushes rustled, and he heard the squish of mud as Black moved closer. "You're right. I saw you from the window and thought you were someone else."

"And, realizing your mistake, you will now be returning to your tower?" Severus let the sarcasm drip from his tone.

"Well, I'm hardly here to see you." And yet, his voice and footsteps were moving closer.

Severus shook his head; his heart was beating faster. He had no desire to see Black again-- he'd been happy to avoid him for the past few days. He'd no idea what punishment Dumbledore had devised, but Black and his friends had stayed safely away from Severus, and Black appeared to have spent every evening in detention. "You don't seem to be leaving. If you think I am, think again."

"I'm sure even we can manage to ignore each other for awhile. After all, we have years of practice."

"So we do." Severus closed his eyes, trying to wipe Black's presence away into the night. Black was seated only a few feet away-- Severus could feel his warmth. The dreams had returned. It wasn't something he wanted to feel or think about. He lay back against the wet ground. He felt the cold mud lacing its way through his hair. At least I'll have an excuse for it to look filthy.

"That certainly isn't helping your hair any," came the careless comment.

Severus' eyes snapped open. "I can't see how that's any of your business," he said in his frostiest tone.

"It isn't. I'm still right."

"I have no interest whatsoever in your advice, Black." Severus closed his eyes again.

"I thought I was well-qualified." A thread of Black's usual mockery underlay the comment. If he were anyone else, Severus might take Black's comment as friendly raillery. Being who and what he was, however, Severus recognized it for the insult it was.

"Oh, yes," he ground out bitterly. "Perfect Sirius Black nosing in once more where he isn't wanted. I don't need your fashion advice, thank you."

"Look-- okay. Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have."

"Sorry."

"Now, I think I'll be going." Severus rose to his feet.

"Suit yourself." Black's response was light and uncaring.

Suit myself? Nothing's suited me since Pettigrew destroyed his own antidote. Severus' fury at Black's reaction rose and crested. It was enough to stop him on his way out of the clearing. Why shouldn't he suffer too? "You were right the first time, you know."

"What do you mean?" Black's voice was still light. Not for long.

"When you called me Selena, I mean."

"I don't understand." Ah, good. Hear that tension now. He may not understand, but that's only because he doesn't want to.

"I must say, it's a pity you didn't quote poetry this time, even if you did choose one where the character drowns. I looked it up, you know."

"You're lying." Severus heard movement-- the squish of mud behind him.

"Don't you trust me? I thought you wanted to be my friend."

"Your friend? Hardly." And warm hands were on his shoulders; Severus had little time to enjoy the sensation before his back was slammed against a tree.

Severus gritted his teeth against the pain, staring directly into Black's eyes. "What? No kiss? No 'I would like to know you better'? Careful, I might think you don't care."

He could see the dawning horror in Black's eyes, then the other boy was releasing him, taking one shaky step back after another.

Snape reached a hand up, rubbing at his shoulders. "Punishing grip you've got there."

Black fell to his knees, gagging and clutching at his stomach.

Snape forced the corners of his mouth into a smile. "I'm smiling now. Like it?" He turned on his heel, walking away, feeling the cold air against the mud in his hair, the rub of his shirt against his abraded back.

He'd won, he supposed. For some inexplicable reason, it failed to give him any joy.

That night, he dreamt of Black atop him, then beneath him, crying out in pleasure. He woke with Black's name on his lips.

He rolled over, grinding his erection into the mattress until he came, silent tears soaking his pillow.

---

Tuesday, January 18, 1977.

It hadn't hurt. It wasn't even visible, most of the time.

Being of age, earning his Apparition license, Severus had had the chance to seal himself to service-- service?-- seal himself to fame and recognition. With it came other things: first among them, his opportunity to have friends in Slytherin.

Avery spoke to him now, and Rosier. He could even claim Narcissa Black-- and he did, with no small satisfaction. He was worthy of notice in Slytherin. It was all he could ask for.

After their confrontation by the lake, Black had never met his eyes again.

Severus rubbed surreptitiously at his left forearm. At times over the past week, it still seemed like his oath should make more of a physical impression. He glanced across the Potions classroom at Black and Potter, whispering together at their shared table.

He felt his lips curve up as Professor Slughorn continued his usual drone.

Friends. Power. Respect. And, one day, the total humiliation of Sirius Black. In all the ways that mattered, he'd won.

---

From hence, ye beauties, undeceiv'd
Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;
Nor all, that glisters, gold.

Author's Note:
The poem is Thomas Gray's "Ode on the Death of a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes," written in 1747, text based on the 1768 publication. Last stanza is quoted above. Gray's by far my favorite poet, though the late 18th century poets are greatly undervalued in general.

Additional note:
I've given them two double lessons for Advanced Potions-- one on Tuesday, one on Friday. (I think canon has only had one double lesson so far, but I think Advanced Potions might need more time?)