Brightest Star of the Sky and Shadow of the Night

Sirius was sprawled across the couch, flipping through a book without really reading it, when the front door creaked open. The wind howled through the gap before it slammed shut, rattling the old windows. Sirius glanced up and immediately frowned.

Severus stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hair onto his cloak, which was pulled tightly around his chest as if he were shielding something.

Sirius sat up, already suspicious. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Severus didn't answer, just strode toward the fireplace with the same stubborn determination he applied to every idea he got into his head. He knelt down, peeling open his cloak to reveal a small, trembling creature nestled in the folds of black fabric.

Sirius craned his neck. The thing gave a weak, pitiful meow.

"You've got to be joking."

Severus ignored him. He pulled a towel from a nearby chair and set the tiny cat down carefully, as though handling a fragile potion ingredient. Sirius watched as he ran long, careful fingers over the drenched fur, checking for injuries.

"What's the occasion?" Sirius asked, feigning nonchalance, but there was something in the set of Severus's shoulders that made his stomach tighten.

Severus's voice was quiet, clipped. "It was in a fight." He paused. "Four against one."

Sirius went still.

The fireplace crackled, filling the silence between them, but it didn't stop the memories from stirring. He swallowed hard, staring at the tiny, matted creature barely breathing on the towel.

Four against one.

His fingers curled against his knee. He forced a smirk, because it was either that or let something heavier settle in his chest. "You know," he said, aiming for flippant, "there's only one animal allowed under this roof."

Severus still didn't look at him. "Then Padfoot is not allowed out."

Sirius opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

For a moment, the room tilted. The shadows of Hogwarts crept in—whispered taunts, a wand against a throat, a mistake that should have never been made. Sirius had spent years outrunning the past, out laughing it. But sometimes, it caught up in the quiet moments, in the casual remarks that weren't casual at all.

Was this one of them?

Severus's words replayed in his head, sharp and deliberate. He panicked for a second, pulse kicking up. Was this about those years? Was this Severus's way of saying he hadn't forgotten? That he never would?

Sirius forced himself to look at him, searching his face for some hidden resentment. But Severus wasn't watching him. He was focused on the cat, carefully inspecting its injured paw, his touch unexpectedly gentle. There was no anger in his face, no buried grudge creeping into his voice. Just quiet patience.

Sirius let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Severus must have sensed his silence because he finally turned to look at him. His gaze was steady, tired in the way it always was when Sirius let his mind wander somewhere dark. "Sirius," he said quietly, "you are human."

The words landed heavier than they should have.

Sirius swallowed. He wasn't sure if Severus had meant anything more by it—if he'd chosen those words deliberately, if he was making a point about the past without saying it outright. Maybe it didn't matter.

Sirius scrubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You, uh… you know what taking care of a cat involves, right?" he asked, forcing his voice into something normal.

Severus gave him a withering look. "No. Please, do enlighten me, Professor Black."

Sirius huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Let's get the little guy settled first." He crouched down beside Severus, glancing at the tiny bundle of fur. The cat flinched at his movement, and Sirius immediately softened his posture. "You know, Padfoot is actually good with cats. Hermione's cat loves me."

Severus arched a brow. "That animal also tried to eat Wormtail."

Sirius grinned. "Exactly. Impeccable taste."

A faint snort escaped Severus—barely there, but Sirius caught it. He let it sit between them, warm and unspoken. The storm outside rattled the windowpanes, but inside, the fire flickered golden against Severus's sharp features.

Sirius watched as Severus carefully adjusted the towel around the small, shivering creature. He didn't have to ask why he'd brought it home. He already knew.

With a sigh, Sirius leaned back on his hands, glancing at the cat. "You think it's gonna make it?"

Severus didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Sirius believed him.

A week later, the cat was still there.

Sirius had expected it to scurry off the moment it regained its strength, but instead, it had made itself at home—specifically, in Severus's lap.

"She likes you," Sirius remarked one evening, his voice casual as he sprawled on the couch, watching Severus absently stroke the cat's sleek black fur. The firelight flickered, casting long shadows across the room.

"I feed her," Severus replied dryly, scratching behind the cat's ears. She purred like a motor.

Sirius smirked. "I feed you. You don't look at me like that."

Severus shot him a look that was neither amused nor impressed. Sirius grinned wider, undeterred.

They skipped past the discussion of whether they were keeping her—the cat had decided that for them. She followed Severus around like a shadow, winding around his legs when he worked at his desk, curling up near his chair during meals, and occasionally glaring at Sirius from her self-appointed throne in Severus's lap.

"We need to name her," Sirius said, nudging his foot against Severus's knee. "Can't keep calling her 'the cat'."

Severus hummed in mild acknowledgment, still focused on the feline.

Sirius waited. And waited. Finally, he raised an eyebrow. "That was your cue to suggest something. Or should I take over?"

"You named your godson's firstborn after yourself. Forgive me if I don't trust your judgment."

Sirius gasped, feigning outrage. "That is a baseless and outrageous accusation."

Severus gave him a flat look. The cat let out a small chirp, as if in agreement.

Sirius huffed and shifted onto his side. "Alright, fine. How about… Snuffles Junior?"

Severus leveled him with a look of such disappointment that Sirius actually snorted.

"Okay, okay," Sirius relented, waving a hand. "What about—" He hesitated, then smirked. "Shadows."

The glare Severus leveled at him was withering. "You are insufferable. Next, you'll encourage Potter to name his second son after me."

Sirius laughed, stretching out lazily. "You love me."

Severus sighed, long-suffering, but his fingers never stopped stroking the cat's fur. "I tolerate you."

Sirius grinned, victorious. "Fine. What would you name her, then?"

Severus was quiet for a moment, his gaze flicking down to the cat curled in his lap. Her fur was glossy now, sleek and unruffled. She blinked up at him with sharp yellow eyes, utterly content.

"Nyx," Severus said at last. "Goddess of the night."

Sirius considered this, tilting his head. He glanced at the cat, who did indeed have a rather regal air, at least when she wasn't trying to trip him on the stairs.

"…Alright," he said, nudging Severus's knee again. "Nyx it is."

Severus gave a slight nod, his fingers trailing down the cat's back. She purred in approval.

Sirius watched them for a moment, warmth settling low in his chest.

"You know, she might like you more than me," he mused.

Severus didn't look up. "Astute observation."

Sirius grinned and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Severus's shoulder. "Should I be jealous?"

Severus sighed, his voice dry. "That's entirely up to you."

Nyx let out a soft meow and curled deeper into Severus's lap. Sirius, watching the two of them, decided he'd lost this battle entirely.

And, he supposed, he didn't really mind.