Snape watched Sirius run out the door, laughing maniacally, and he rolled his eyes. How immature! Well, he always had been…Snape figured Sirius could be as immature as he wanted. Meanwhile, Snape was going to explore the manor.

The first thing the Potions Master noticed was that there were a lot of Dark objects. In fact, a person without a brain could see that this manor had belonged to generations of Dark wizards. In the drawing room, Snape found a coil of rope hanging on the wall; underneath it there was a note, in Sirius's handwriting: Please do not touch. This rope strangles anyone who is not a pureblood.

Better not touch it, indeed. Snape looked like Sirius, but he knew that he was still Severus Snape, a half-blood—someone the rope would strangle.

Instead, Snape went to look at all the other Dark objects on display in the drawing room. They were in glass cabinets, displayed as if they were the family's most valuable possessions. Maybe they were. As he looked around, Snape felt a sensation he had not felt in a very long time—the strange fascination and excitement he felt every time he was around anything to do with Dark Magic. This house was teeming with Dark Magic, and Snape was actually quite taken with it.

After exploring the drawing room, Snape headed upstairs to the very top floor, where he would be sleeping. Or, as he thought when he entered the room, where he would not be sleeping. Sirius's room was full of pictures of the Marauders, a shrine to Gryffindor, and barely clothed Muggle women. There was a stash of old porn magazines dating back to the seventies by the bedside. Snape scowled and left for the room next to it.

Ah…much better!

Why did I never become friends with Regulus? Snape wondered as he looked around the room. Slytherin House Pride was everywhere, along with the Black family crest and motto. The room reflected mass amounts of spoilage—the bed was soft and cushy when Snape lay down; the room was large and airy with three windows. Was this the room Snape would have had, he wondered, if his parents had been able to afford it?

In fact…how Snape wished he could have had Sirius's childhood. Parents who loved each other! Never worrying about money! Parents who were a witch and wizard! An environment where Dark Magic was accepted, even encouraged! Another child in the house to keep him company! Even a house-elf!

Snape crossed his arms behind his head and thought, I think I'm going to like this.

…

Sirius ran outside, relishing the fact that Severus Snape was not a wanted man. There was no 10,000 Galleon reward on his head. The dementors were not under any orders to administer the Kiss to Severus Snape. And now that Sirius looked like Severus Snape…

I am a free man.

At that moment Sirius didn't care what people thought of him. He beamed up at the sun, which beamed right back down at him; he looked all around him, looking at birds, people, everything. From now until Christmas, nobody would be persecuting him. Free, finally free, for the first time in fourteen years. Free.

Sirius loved everything about outside at that moment, even rain and thunder and lightning and stinging insects. Everything in the outside world! He smiled at every stranger he saw, although he only got strange looks in return.

Sirius ended up needing to Apparate in the end, since Snape lived all the way in Cokeworth. Spinner's End looked like a dodgy place, Sirius thought. Snape had given him the keys to the house, and as soon as he opened the door, it was clear to see that Snape only lived here two months out of the year. The drawing room was full of books—Sirius made a mental note to start studying Occlumency later. It was very small and dark in there. None of the doors were really visible, but there was some threadbare furniture. Sirius sat down on the couch and looked around at the books, thinking of whether he might find the door to the kitchen and make a snack, but then he got an idea.

It was childish, he knew, but he ran around the foyer, shouting at the top of his voice, and yet…nothing woke up. There were no portraits! No screaming! No elf heads, no Dark objects, no doxy-filled curtains, no family tapestry, no Kreacher, no nothing! This house was smaller, but Sirius didn't care how big his inherited house was—terrible, terrible things had happened behind that hidden door, and he was glad to be free.

Snape's house was two stories, and Sirius found the door to the upstairs after some hunting. The first thing he did was head to the shower, because he couldn't stand this greasy mop much longer. He had brought his bag of toiletries with him, including all his hair potions and gel. It was amazing that even though Snape was the Potions Master, he didn't know the right potions to take care of his hair.

The shower water was ice-cold. Sirius thought hot water was probably too much to expect at a place like this, but he had lived in much worse conditions than this. At least he got to take a shower at all. Speaking of that…as Sirius wet his hair under the faucet, he turned his chin up and kept his eyes on the ceiling, nowhere else. This was the part of swapping that he had not been looking forward to. Sure, that part of him—that part of Snape—would have to be washed soon, and that would be a dreadful experience indeed, but he was focusing on his hair this time.

It didn't really matter that the water was cold. Getting the grease out just felt so darn good. Sirius used all the hair potions he would need, using three heavy-duty grease removers and then some other potions to keep things soft, strong, smooth, shiny and easy to comb.

Sirius stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, then pressed his wand to his temple, drying his hair instantly. Now all he needed to do was comb. So he grabbed one, but when he looked in the mirror, he was shocked.

Snape didn't actually have that bad of hair; he just didn't take good care of it. Sirius wouldn't say Snape's hair was quite as luxurious as his, but he had to admit, there really was nothing wrong with Snape's hair if it was washed and combed correctly. Sirius ran the comb through Snape's hair, noting how soft it had become—those hair potions of his were miracle workers. His head also felt a lot lighter again, now that the grease was gone. Finally, Sirius put just the right amount of gel in Snape's hair and grinned at himself in the mirror. Okay, Snape still wasn't exactly a hunk. But a smile and good hair care made an enormous difference.

The bed upstairs was very simple—just a brass bedstead with a mattress, a pillow, and one thin blanket. Sirius dived down onto the bed and stared out the one grimy window at Spinner's End. It wasn't exactly picturesque. But still…Sirius found himself wishing he could have had a childhood more like this one. Parents who didn't hate him! No pure-blood mania—in fact, a Muggle parent! No Dark rituals or animal sacrifices or Knockturn Alley runs or private tutor or Sacred 28 "playdates" or awkward, snarling family photo shoots! No siblings to constantly outshine him! No irritating house-elf! Best of all, the opportunity to roam as he pleased, to make his own friends! Of course, Sirius knew Snape's family hadn't had a lot of money, but if there was one thing he had learned from his childhood, it was that gold couldn't buy you happiness. Being a member of the aristocracy was miserable and boring, and as far as he was concerned, his family had never had anything valuable at all.

Sirius settled down for a nap, and he was awakened around evening by an owl tapping on the window. It was telling him that he needed to go back to HQ for a meeting tonight.

Well, of course he'd go. But he wouldn't stay.