Chapter Sixty-Two

No one could claim that Lily Potter was above holding grudges.

Hell, she was quite certain she could take one and carry it with her until the day she died.

But Lily had more than met her match when it came to the resilience of Sirius Black.

Who, even after all these weeks, was still adamant to maintain the cold, aloof hostility that had settled between them; treating her as if falling for Severus Snape was the worst possible offence she could have ever committed.

She could be angry. Indignant. Yell to the stars in the sky that it wasn't fair. That it was none of his business.

But, deep down, now that her own fury had simmered down to mild resentment, leaving only hurt. Because, after all these years, surely they were above this.

It can't have always been about James. At some point, their friendship must have become in some way just about them.

"I say good riddance. It was about time you were shot of him."

"Jules."

"What? Honey, I get you're upset about it but if he were really a friend he'd understand. Harry needs stability. And he wasn't going to get that with that old fart hanging around all the time undermining every decision you made. Black just needs to accept it; you're his mum and, quite frankly, you're more than strong enough to do with him. Without any man."

It was a little more complicated than that, Lily wanted to say. Fought the desperate urge to reveal the true nature of the situation, for Julia always had a way of making things seem far less dire than they seemed. And, for all Remus' reassurances and unwavering loyalty – even if Lily could see that he, too, far from approved of her choice here – there was just something about confiding in another girl that always helped put things into perspective.

But that wasn't an option.

Just having Sirius and Remus know was a luxury neither she nor Severus would have permitted, had it been within their control.

Well. Luxury might be pushing it.

"Besides, all Tighty-Drawers has really been doing all this time is keeping you from getting a good lay."

Lily laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Aren't I right? Nothing like a raging, over-protective live-in guard dog to keep the suitors at bay."

"Hardly, Jules. There's not been anyone for him to chase away."

Strike one.

"Oh, please. Don't think I don't see what's going on here. You chucking old Black out can mean only one thing; you're finally embracing the big bad world."

Lily shrugged, taking a drink from her cup.

"And don't think I haven't noticed those rosy cheeks of yours. Come on, spill it."

"Spill what?"

"Don't act coy with me. I can always tell, honey; people get a certain look about them when they're getting some. And all I can say on the matter is; finally."

"Don't be silly. I'm not."

Strike two.

"What's with the secrecy? I told you all about my little venture into 'Black' territory a few months ago."

Right. Regulus Black. Julia had nothing but good things to say about her old boss' performance, Lily remembered. Though her playful demeanour had quickly vanished when news trickled quickly down that Sirius' younger brother had been murdered, that very same night, at the Foundation.

Lily had been unable to tell her otherwise. The truth of the matter coming from Severus.

Another thing to add to the endless list of strikes that carried on accumulating.

Julia's eyebrows wiggled, playfully; "Did you finally get down to business with a certain Professor? Guessing the shy, silent types don't appreciate the whole 'tell' side of the bargain."

Lily pursed her lips together; "I wouldn't know."

Strike three.

"Oh really?"

"What with the Foundation shutting down last year, there hasn't been many opportunities for Severus and I to even seen one another. And I've been busy. With work."

"Oh, don't remind me. This Fellowship is really ragging on me."

"Not enjoying it?"

"Working with the kids is great. It's the parents that drive me up the wall."

Lily giggled; "We do have that effect."

"Well, if it's not Mr Tall, Dark and Sexy – I'm guessing Black had something to do with chasing away that golden opportunity, right? Pft. His loss. Anyway, if it's not him; well, there's gotta be someone. I can tell."

"Jules –"

"Someone from work?"

There was a knock at the door, signalling Sirius' arrival; a coming that Lily had come to dread over the past few weeks. Though, in this instance, Lily was glad of it. If it only meant that it would put the brakes on Julia's questioning.

If only.

"Hey, Black, what do you know about Lily's new mystery man?"

Sirius was barely even across the threshold, freezing in his steps just a little in the doorway and meeting Lily's eyes. She shot him a warning look.

His eyes darkened and he pushed the door shut behind him; "Mystery man? Don't be daft, Bradbury. Lily's got a full time son now. She'd know better than to get involved with someone without thinking how it'd affect him first."

"What makes you think she hasn't?" Julia jibed back, not missing the intended slight; "Be good for the kid. Having a man around."

Sirius shot her daggers and Lily rubbed her temples with her fingers, hoping this wouldn't become a thing; "Harry, Uncle Sirius is here!" she called out.

Within minutes, Harry was down the stairs, sporting the backpack he had learned to pack every Sunday night and his broomstick held tight in his hand, greeting Sirius with a wide smile and a hug, before going to her to bid her farewell.

Lily grew to both love and hate Mondays. Dreading the moment, this moment, when her son would tell her he loved her before leaving to spend the following two nights with Sirius. Odd, for she never now, nor in the past, ever felt so when he went to spend the nights with Remus.

But this was different. Remus was, most definitely, 'Uncle Remus'.

And Sirius, while he bore the same title to her son, well, there was no denying that Harry viewed him as something much more. No denying that even she, Lily, had admitted as such by allowing the visits, this arrangement, to go on as it did.

But she had only herself to blame, as she kept reminding herself; the consequences of her younger weakness meaning that she now found herself in the circumstance where she practically shared custody of her son with a man who was not even his father.

"Got plans?"

Lily met Sirius' eyes at the question; "Excuse me?"

"While I've got him." Sirius elaborated, as Harry walked over to him. He put a hand on her little boy's shoulder; "I mean, if you're not going to be here and I need to find you – for Harry, obviously – then how do I get in touch? If you're going to be somewhere else –" he broke off, raising an eyebrow; "Maybe with this 'mystery man' Julia's talking about, don't you think you ought to leave me an address?"

Lily glowered at him, temper almost instantly ignited, but she bit back the instinct to snap back in turn; "I think you know Julia is joking, Sirius."

"Hm. I wasn't sure."

Lily's jaw clenched at the smugness in his expression.

"So. If I want to get in touch, I'll just come back here then?"

"Or you could save yourself the trouble and send a patronus, Sirius, like we have always done in the past?"

"Are you gonna fight?" Harry spoke up, suddenly, and when Lily looked at him his eyes expressed obvious unease at the tension between them.

Lily drew in a breath, forcing a smile, her voice reassuring; "No, Sweetheart, we're not." She took the few steps forward, drawing him into another hug and pressing a kiss to the top of his head; "We're just mucking about." She took a step back, releasing him; "Off you go then."

Lily studiously avoided Sirius' eyes, the temper he had quickly ignited with his underhanded comments successfully trounced by the distress in her son's expression.

Sirius took him by the arm, gently, leaving without another word.

"What a prick." Julia declared when he had gone; "Jeez. Honey, if that was my kid, I'd be telling Black where to go."

"It's complicated."

"So I noticed."

Didn't they all.

James Potter was laughing.

James Potter was taking Lily's hand.

James Potter was kissing Lily's neck.

Enough.

Severus averted his gaze, breaking eye contact and withdrawing from her mind, sharply.

Some things were just too repellent to endure.

Nonetheless, it was not the first time over the past few weeks he had been presented with such sights. Seeing far more than he would ever be comfortable with of Lily's previous relationship with the man. But, even then, the sight of the two of them, the moments they shared and that her mind still kept locked up tight, did nothing to answer the questions that Severus still did not dare to ask.

All he could see when confronted with the memories of them was happiness. Light.

And Severus couldn't help but think that it was no wonder Lily had held onto hope for the other man for so long.

Even if the thought made him sick to his stomach.

His blood boil in his veins.

"You're supposed to be keeping me out."

"Believe me, I'm trying."

"Try harder."

There was an edge to his voice that he couldn't help, that he could see she picked up on, but Lily was becoming almost immune to it now. She knew to expect it. His aggravation when he delved just far enough, deep enough to see it.

Lily was aware of his enduring loathing for her husband.

Even if they still avoided discussion of him.

"You're the one who wanted to do this." Lily pointed it out with a look that told him he had only himself to blame for the current situation, for the sights he was forced to witness, and she was right.

But there was no other choice. Their relationship had to be kept secret. For both their sakes.

And, while he was entirely certain of Lily's resolve, there were other ways their connection could be revealed than through words – or, even, through sworn enemies bursting in right as they were about to get down to business – and one of those other ways was one which he had the ability to protect her from; legilliemency.

Severus had dismissed her concerns before, that she ought to learn it, but now, things were very different. As such, neither had been hesitant when he had stated, during one of their duelling sessions, that he felt it prudent they beginning training in occlumency, also.

Lily was more than willing. Was still, even now, despite the occasional unpleasantness that arose.

Lily had nothing to hide. Nothing she wasn't willing to let him see.

That must be nice.

"I'm never going to get this." She turned away, her exasperation obvious.

"Nonsense. You have managed to keep me from the surface memories; the ones I encounter here are only accessible when I probe further, the barriers not yet advanced enough to conceal all your mind holds. These are older memories, subconsciously recollected. Which might explain the nature of the visualisations I am being presented with."

Her exasperation wearing off, she shot him a look; "Sorry."

"For your memories? Pft."

Merlin forbid Lily should ever look and see any of his.

Lily apologised a lot during these sessions. Whenever her mind offered up a particularly displeasing memory – on his side – of her previous life. He always dismissed them, for she owed him no such thing. He was not foolish enough to believe that her life with Potter had been a miserable affair.

And yet she apologised for the confirmation, anyway, seeming to think either that she did owe him that or that he just needed to hear it; he supposed snapping and scowling in the aftermath of seeing them together did nothing to convince her otherwise.

"Okay. I'm ready." Lily straightened up, giving him a nod.

Severus raised his wand.

But, before he could speak the incantation, he was halted by the entirely unwelcome burning of the Mark on his arm.

He tucked his wand away, turning abruptly; "I have to go." He reached for his outer robes, shrugging into them and quickly making himself presentable.

"Oh. Is it…" Lily broke off, suddenly. Knew better than to ask.

Severus met her eyes, with the same regret as always.

Lily gave him a nod; "Okay." He caught her glance at her cloak, where it was discarded over a chair, her scarf on top, as if wondering if she ought to leave, also.

The Dark Lord had never called him from one of their nights together, before.

Severus cleared his throat, nodding in the direction of the kitchen; "Just…help yourself to anything you want. These meetings are often brief." He paused, then added; "Though not always."

Lily smiled, then, and nodded; accepting his invitation to stay. To wait for him.

Severus stepped towards her when he'd buttoned up, pressed a quick kiss to her lips – well, it was supposed to be quick, but he lingered when she reached up, hand caressing his cheek in seeming reassurance – before he turned and left for the Dark Lord's side.

Remus looked like death.

"Hell, Moony. Shouldn't you be lying down?"

"Well I had to get up to let you in, didn't I?"

Remus gave a weak smile when Harry hugged him around the waist; "Are you sick, Uncle Remus?"

He patted Harry on the back, affectionately; "Hm. A bit. Nothing to worry about."

Remus practically limped all the way to the couch, lowering himself down slowly and releasing a sigh, as if it were the most wonderful feeling in the world when he was finally off of his feet; "What brings you two here?"

"I wanted to visit!" Harry declared, throwing himself next to him on the couch and making Remus wince; "You didn't come to the house this week."

"Ah. Yes." Remus nodded, hand going to Harry's shoulder; "I must apologise for that, Harry. Work kept me busy."

"Work?" Harry perked up, curious by an excuse his uncle never gave, for Remus switched between jobs more often than the lunar cycle.

"A new job I have to do," Remus said, by way of elaboration.

Right. Spying.

Remus had spent the past week running with werewolves. That explained the pale, sickly demeanour; the wheezing; the evident new scars.

Another person Sirius worried for.

Remus. Regulus. Lily.

He tried not to think about Lily. She had made her choice. Whatever happened next was on her head.

Regulus, well, things were not going well there at all. Still, red tape prevented the sale of the property Sirius had selected for purchase, meaning that, until that was sorted, his brother had little option but to carry on darting from one place to the next.

A second sighting had happened only a few days before.

The Death Eaters were way too close.

Another week. Just one more week and, then, his brother would be out of reach.

Then he'd be able to relax, finally. At least with regards to one of them.

Well, if one could call it that. For 'relaxing' was not something that was typical of the life of an Order member.

Sirius had barely joined Remus and Harry, only just lowering himself into the chair next to the couch, when Dumbledore's patronus came sweeping into the room, the message brief, urgent; a call to arms.

Both Sirius and Remus stood.

"Don't be daft, Moony!" Sirius shot him a look; "You can barely stand as it is."

Sirius waved off any further protests, demanding that he stay here – hey, you can keep an eye on Harry. It would save him making the customary pit-stop at the Burrow. And then he took off, leaving his Godson behind, making his way to the location as stated by the silver Phoenix.

A wedding.

Hardly an offensive practice, under normal circumstances; certainly not to normal people.

Over the course of the past several months, they had become a frequent target for attacks by Death Eaters. For a Ministry ally, particularly an Auror or an Order member, to seek to join with another in matrimony came the very real risk that their celebrations would be interrupted, ruined by the simple wish by Voldemort and his followers to strike fear in those who opposed them; sought to prevent the continuation of a life, beyond the realities of war.

Such attacks were erratic, however; some Ministry allies managed to find themselves looked over. Dismissed.

But there was a certain coupling that was never overlooked; a union between a pureblood and muggleborn.

As was the case here.

Sirius ducked to the side before quickly firing a returning jinx.

Bright lights. Screams. Groans of the wounded. All filled the air. Hectic commotion as people opted to flee or fight; some caught up in the confusion of it all – muggles, some of whom unaware even of the existence of the magical world. They seemed to be a particularly delicious target for the Death Eaters.

"Einlatus!"

"Crucio!"

A familiar voice cried out.

Lily.

Sirius fired without hesitation, sending the offending Death Eater flying with a curse of his own, releasing her from the torture she was held under. Lily's eyes met his, briefly, before he suddenly found himself engaged under the ferocious attack of his cousin; whose eyes looked even more deranged than he remembered as she fought him.

Sirius matched her ferocity tenfold; no doubt in his mind that she had been the Death Eater who had tortured James to the point of incapacitation.

No messing about. Curses.

Curse after curse firing back and forth between them; both driven by their individual stings of betrayal, a depth that can only be achieved by a slight from those of one's blood, the need for vengeance palpable.

"Little cousin knows how to play." She mocked, with a pout, before her eyes darkened and the pout became a snarl and Sirius was suddenly hit with the Cruciatus, more power behind the spell than he had ever experienced and he knew he was screaming, his body coiling and convulsing under the force of it.

The torture was suddenly lifted but not due to interference, no; his cousin's foot was pressed to his throat, dark manic eyes bore down into his from above as she leaned over him; "Filth." She practically relished the word; "Filthy little blood traitor." She trailed the tip of her wand down the side of his face; "Uncle Orion would be so proud of his boys."

Sirius' hand grasped at the dirt, seeking his own wand.

"Where's your baby brother, cousin?" She tilted her head to the side, a slow smirk spreading when Sirius met her eyes sharply; "I know you've got him."

Bellatrix jerked back, suddenly, responding to a jinx sent her way; enough time for Sirius to grasp his wand and spring to his feet. Not enough time to do much else. Barely able to throw up a defensive shield when she engaged him once more, mercilessly, savagely, even more so than before and he fought back, barely able to keep up, his mind reeling under the accusation, the truth behind her words.

Sirius needed to get Regulus under the Fidelius.

Fast.

But Regulus was driven from his mind when he was struck, a slicing of flesh across his torso that had him double over in agony before he was hit once more with the Cruciatus.

Sirius went down.

Lily had adapted enviously well to the nature of their relationship. Now able to lock away any concern or worry that she may have felt whenever Severus walked out the door; offering up a brave face and smile in its stead.

Severus, on the other hand, was not quite so collected. At least not inwardly.

He barely held back his protests when he thought Lily was taking – totally unnecessary – risks, particularly when she found herself volunteering for dangerous Order tasks that, quite frankly, any other member could easily carry out. It did not have to be her.

Severus' overprotectiveness was entirely unwelcome, however. They had bickered, early on in their relationship, when he had seen fit to voice his concerns.

He told himself that it was merely logical; Lily ought not to make herself stand out any more than she already did. The last thing they needed was for the name 'Potter' to start circling the Dark Lord's ranks once more.

And, on a more personal level, he just did not enjoy the feeling that Lily putting herself in danger evoked. Too close to the mindless panic he had felt at twenty years old, when the Dark Lord had announced his intention to hunt her down.

As such, the fact that he was just now sitting comfortably in Dumbledore's office, chatting away over tea and scones, while Lily battled Death Eaters miles away left him edgy, shifting in his seat. Even if every motion only sent further jolts through him, the lingering after effects of his most recent encounter with his old master.

"The Dark Lord is under the impression that Regulus Black is being harboured by the Order."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking curious; "Did he give reason as to why he believes that to be the case?"

"Not to me. Until tonight the Dark Lord has made an effort to ensure I receive no updates on the Regulus pursuit whatsoever. It is only now that he seems to have evidence that the Order is involved that he has sought to…involve me."

Rather, interrogate.

"Hm."

Dumbledore looked at him appraisingly, not fooled by the various potions and charms he had taken and cast in the aftermath of his meeting; the effects of the torture still very much apparent in the way his body twitched, slightly, every now and again, the bead of sweat he could feel trailing his temple, the slow way he manoeuvred in the chair opposite.

"And was he convinced that you remain unaware of his whereabouts?"

"It was not difficult, considering that I know nothing of it."

Still, the Order had been unable to locate Regulus, despite the assigned group who had been tasked with locating him. And now Severus was to be forced into the position of returning and revealing that yes, the Order was currently attempting to locate him, for the alternative was to concede that he had already been found and that Severus had concealed it.

Sometimes, Severus just wanted to go down to his dungeons and lock the door.

He pushed his concern for Regulus aside, as he had been successfully managing to do for the past few months. There was nothing he could do and, as he had asserted to Lily when everything had first unfolded, the best thing he could do for both of them was to simply accept that to be the case. That the less he knew on the matter, the better.

Upon dismissal, Severus apparated to Coventry. Skirted the perimeter of the battle that was now dwindling; only a few stranglers remaining behind, squaring off against opposing sides until the other either fell or retreated.

It was a habit Severus had not yet dropped, observing from afar, ready to intervene if the situation called for it.

A careful inspection of the area confirmed that Lily was no longer there, had departed at some point.

The last opponent fell; the victor disapparating.

A stillness fell over the area. A silence.

Severus turned, beginning to make his way from the scene. He could not be spotted. But a low groan nearby stopped him, drawing his attention to one of the fallen. A whimper. Another groan. Even the pained sounds were familiar, Severus almost certain he knew who it was even before the man slumped from his crouched position back to the ground; head turning to the side in the dirt and revealing his face.

Black.

Severus eyed him.

Oh it was tempting. So very tempting.

He could turn and walk away right now. No one would ever know.

Sirius Black panted against the earth. Eyes closed. Brow furrowed.

Severus stared.

Lily came to mind.

Regulus.

With an exasperated exhale, he stepped forward, the sound of his breath and his footsteps making the other man's eyes open. No recognition there; only undeniable, palpable fear as he looked up at him and Severus realised he wouldn't know who he was, that he was in his Death Eater robes.

It would be a lie if Severus said he didn't enjoy it, the look in the Black's eyes, smirking as he easily disarmed him when Black weakly raised his wand.

He wondered if the other man would be receptive if Severus were to remove his mask.

Probably not.

He almost snorted.

Severus summoned the wand, pocketing it, and then reached down, easily grasping Black under the arm and pulling him upwards, even as he fought back, pathetically.

Severus flung him over his shoulder, lifting his own wand and disapparated.

Sirius struggled to breathe.

Pain. Unbearable pain searing through him.

"Drink this."

Sirius knew the voice.

Knew he couldn't trust it.

Knew he had to fight back.

Sirius recoiled when he felt cool ceramic press to his lips, the first drops of liquid touching them, and he smacked his head back against something hard, wooden, blowing outwards and sending the small amount of potion from his lips in a spray.

A hand slapped his cheek; "Wake up."

Sirius squinted against the light. Eyelids blinking, slowly opening; his blurred vision slowly settling and making sense of who it was standing over him.

Snape.

Sirius jerked backwards, hitting his head once more against the table he was laid upon.

He groaned.

"Good move." Snape held up the mortar to his lips once more; "Drink."

"Piss off."

It came out as a rasp; pathetic, weak.

Snape raised an eyebrow, looking more than a little amused.

This was just fantastic.

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut.

"Unless you want the last face you ever see to be mine; I suggest you do as I say."

The deities hated him. That was the only explanation.

His ancestors, they had conspired together, sought to ensure he suffered the most undignified death imaginable.

He was dying. He was going to die.

And Severus Snape got to watch.

The last person in the whole fucking universe that Sirius could possibly want with him in that moment was here.

Sirius swallowed, this time, when the ceramic pressed to his lips.

Gagged on the bitterness.

Snape stepped away from him then.

Slowly, his mind cleared, even if the pain still wracked his body; the weakness still keeping him almost paralysed, unable to move away.

His eyes darted around the room, one he didn't recognise.

Sirius flinched when Snape stepped abruptly towards him once more and Sirius realised, to his utter humiliation, that his shirt had been torn open and his chest and stomach were displayed, revealing various gashes and burns that Bellatrix had inflicted upon him before she had turned and left him to die.

He glowered up at Snape; "Pervert."

He could have sworn Snape's lips twitched at that.

The other man lifted his wand and Sirius reflexively drew back; "I don't need your help!" He rasped out.

"So I noticed."

Snape carried on, wand lowering over the wounds, voicing the counter curse that stitched them together, with almost carelessness. A sing-song that sounded downright weird coming from Snape's lips and his mind conjured up various images of Snape taking to the karaoke at a house party.

Sirius snickered.

When the wounds were sealed – a lifetime later, it seemed – Snape stepped back and, lifting something from the side, tossed a wet cloth onto his chest.

Sirius grasped it weakly, dragging it across the new scars slowly, feebly, the best he could do to wipe away the blood.

The sealing of the wounds, the potion he had taken, had done little to take away the pain, the certainty in his mind that he was teetering on the brink of death, here, as Snape walked around the table, casually, as if they had all the time in the world.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Snape ignored him.

"She won't care."

There was a hesitation then, a faltering in his movement, but Snape still didn't look at him. Only ground ingredients with the pestle, carrying on with whatever it was he was going to force down his throat next.

Sirius turned his head away, releasing a harsh breath. This was unbelievable.

The past two years had been a nightmare. With every day that passed, things just seemed to go from bad to worse. Starting with Peter Pettigrew escaping Azkaban and ending with this; Severus Snape being the person he gets to spend his final, dying moments with.

Hate rose up within him.

Hate.

That was to be his last feeling. His final thoughts not of the things, of the people that mattered.

Sirius closed his eyes. Tried to think of the others; of those he wanted, more than anything, to see again.

The only person that came to mind, the only relationship not tainted, shrouded by regret, was Harry.

Little Harry.

Everyone else he cared for, those he loved, all were people he had hurt, had let down, had pushed away.

Regulus.

Remus.

Lily.

Too late, now, to change what had happened. To make it right.

Sirius never learned.

Made the same mistakes over and over again; not listening, not hearing or understanding. Would any of them even really care when he was gone? Maybe they would. Maybe a little. But they would go on; their lives almost entirely unaffected by the loss of his.

What had he ever, really, done?

He left nothing behind.

He felt choked then, drawing in a harsh breath, which only served to draw Snape's attention from the mortar to his face.

Sirius averted his eyes.

He noticed it, then, as he attempted to avoid the other man's eyes. A lone photograph on the shelf in the corner; Snape giving him the finger while his brother laughed in the background.

Sirius frowned even as he stared at it. Tried to commit it to memory; the image of his little brother, so young in the moving photograph, the carefree boy he had been in his youth.

Snape had been there, with him, had seen him then. Had known him.

Sirius closed his eyes against the thought, looking away from it when they opened once more and it was then that he noticed the cloak that was slung over the back of the chair next to him. A familiar scarf tossed over it, carelessly.

Lily's.

So, this was where Lily came on the nights he had Harry.

Of course it was. This was Snape's house.

Sirius wasn't a fool; he knew exactly what Lily got up to when Harry wasn't with her.

He lifted his eyes to Snape then, who emptied the crushed ingredients into a goblet of bubbling liquid; "Is she here? Lily?"

Snape met his eyes. There was a change in them, then, at the mentioning of her name.

Sirius held his look. He wanted to see her. If she was.

Snape jerked his head to the side, telling him no, and then he stepped towards him, holding the goblet to his lips.

Sirius drank it.

Merlin. It was rank.

He gagged, feeling his stomach lurch and attempt to empty itself of what he'd just swallowed, but he forced it back; like hell was he going to spew his guts up in front of Snape.

Then again, if he could aim it just right…

The pain was suddenly fading. Evaporating. Gone.

Sirius felt like he was floating on clouds. Light-headed. Serene. And, then, giddy.

He sighed.

He caught Snape smirk and something in the back of his mind told him he should be offended, that he should bite back, make a jibe, snipe at him.

But he didn't. Whatever he had just taken chasing away the urge to do so, the urge to fight.

Had Snape drugged him?

Sirius found he didn't care.

Cared about nothing, right now, except the people upon whom his thoughts had dwelled moments before. Remus and Harry, waiting for him, no doubt concerned that he hadn't yet returned. His eyes flicked lazily at the moving picture of his brother, at Lily's cloak.

"We love the same people."

The words escaped his lips before he had the chance to evaluate them, to think about what he was saying. When they did, something deep inside told him to be mortified, to toughen up, but the wooziness beat out.

"Delirium is a common side effect of the potion. It is probably better you – shut up."

Sirius didn't. His thoughts were on them now. On Remus. Lily. Reg.

"I…I hurt people. I push them away."

"Do spare me the deathbed confessions, Black."

"Why? I bet you're enjoying this."

"I fear that any expressions of remorse may impede my joy at your imminent demise."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

"Likewise."

Snape gave him another potion.

Another.

"Yeah." Sirius let out a laugh; "I am." He nodded, talking more to himself that to the other man in the room; "Just ask Reg. Or Lily! Oh, but, wait, you probably already have, right?"

"Believe it or not, you are not the first thing on my mind when I'm in the company of either."

"I honestly have no idea what they see in you."

"The feeling is entirely mutual."

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut, rational thought seeming to rise once more, fighting against the disorientation; "You're a Death Eater!" He announced it as if suddenly realising it for the first time; "You're…dangerous."

"Extremely."

Snape held another potion to his lips, eyebrow raised now, as if a challenge.

Sirius took it. Held his breath as he swallowed, so as not to subject himself to another foul flavour. He was certain Snape was intentionally leaving something out, an ingredient used to counter the taste, to make it more bearable. He had only himself to blame if he did puke his guts up all over the other man's shoes.

"If you really cared about her, you'd stay away from her."

His mind was clearing, now, coming back to himself. The delirium wearing off. The potion he'd just been given seeming to counter the effects of the other.

Except the pain remained at bay. No longer crippling him.

Snape said nothing. Turned away, instead, heading back to the desk where various phials lay scattered alongside goblets and potion supplies.

He lifted several of the glass containers, holding them up and peering in at them.

He supposed that was him done with him then.

Sirius watched him.

Loathing, rising, of course, as was always the case.

But, along with that, something else. Not because of what he had done – apparently, saved him from certain death – but his motivations behind it.

Sirius was not fool enough to believe it had anything to do with him.

In fact, he was quite certain that if Snape had come across him just a few years before, he would have simply walked away and left him to die.

Or, even, stood there and watched. Relished every second.

But not now. Because, like it or not, they did care about the same people.

Intrinsically linked by his brother and the most infuriatingly stubborn woman imaginable.

People who, for better or worse, neither wanted to see hurt.

It was an entirely unwelcome realisation.

Sirius eased himself down from table, doing his best not to appear as pathetic and weak as he felt in that moment, his movements shaky; unsteady footsteps being made towards the door. His eyes landed on Lily's cloak again.

She'd be back for that.

And then, they were drawn back to the picture of his brother and Snape, as he passed by the shelf that it rested upon.

Sirius hesitated, glancing back.

Snape didn't acknowledge him, moved around as if Sirius had already left.

He remembered, then, his encounter with Bellatrix that night. Her words, her threats. If Snape was one of them, he would surely know already. Which meant that what he said next meant nothing.

At least, that's what he told himself, because he couldn't, for the life of him, explain why he even bothered. What made him do it.

"Regulus is fine."

Snape's movements ceased.

Sirius stared; scrutinising him.

He wasn't entirely sure what he it was he was waiting for, what he wanted to see. Proof of innocence? Proof that he cared?

Or, rather, proof of guilt?

Snape met his eyes then.

The other man's expression was different this time. Guarded. As if Sirius had got him, somehow; found a weakness.

Sirius realised for sure, in that moment, that he had.

Snape drew in a breath, tilting his chin upwards, a cool acknowledgement of the statement. And then he jerked his head in a sharp nod – which Sirius assumed was supposed to be gratitude – before he turned away once more. Carrying on as if nothing had been said.

Which Sirius preferred.

The last thing he had intended to happen as a result of the words had been to get down and emotional with Severus Bloody Snape.

He was forgetting where he was for a moment, forgetting who he was with.

"Don't you have a home to go to, Black?"

Sirius started at the words. And then he glowered.

"I did until you came along."

Snape met his eyes. Raised an eyebrow. Looked neither apologetic nor remorseful over the fact.

But he said nothing. No retort. No gloating.

There wasn't even self-satisfaction in his expression this time.

Rather, he just looked at him, Sirius returning it as they seemed to see the truth of the matter for the first time. That, for most definitely worse, the two of them were never going to escape one another.

The other was always going to be there. Laughing and loathing and jibing.

Sirius rolled his eyes, taking a step back.

Fucking Severus Snape.

He turned away then, his strength having been increasing with each minute, the potions, the spells cast gradually coming into effect. Left the house without another word.

Even long after he left, he was still haunted by it; the totally uninvited recognition that Severus Snape was actually human.