Beware the jab you make in jest, for the listener may catch a message you never meant to send.

Sirius lounged on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his fingers idly tracing the stitching of the cushion. The firelight flickered across the room, casting long, wavering shadows against the walls. Across from him, Severus sat at the table, quill in hand, engrossed in whatever administrative nonsense he had brought home.

The silence between them was companionable, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft scratch of Severus's quill against parchment. But Sirius, never one to let quiet linger too long, finally spoke.

"I've been thinking," he said, shooting Severus a grin.

Severus didn't even look up. "That's dangerous."

Sirius huffed in mock offense. "Rude." He let the insult slide, shifting to rest his chin on his hand as he studied Severus. "Why did you keep your father's name, anyway? You hated Tobias Snape."

Severus's quill hesitated mid-stroke, his fingers tightening slightly around it before resuming their steady rhythm with its measured strokes. "Right," he said flatly, "We should all follow Barty Crouch's lead and kill our fathers—or take the Dark Lord's approach: invent a new moniker first, then kill our fathers."

Sirius scowled. "That's not what I meant, and you know it." He sat up straighter, his expression turning uncharacteristically serious. "You could have changed it—Prince, or something else."

Severus finally looked up, arching a brow. A flicker of amusement tugged at his mouth. "Or something else…" He leaned back slightly, voice turning deceptively casual. "Black, are you proposing?"

Sirius froze, blindsided.

For a second, his brain completely stalled, mouth opening and closing like a complete idiot before he managed a flustered, "Wh—what? No! I—" He cleared his throat, scrambling for dignity. "I was just—just thinking out loud!"

Severus was watching him now, expression unreadable save for the slightest amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "You seem flustered, Black."

"I am not flustered," Sirius muttered, crossing his arms and sinking back against the couch. His heart, however, was still thudding a little too fast for his liking.

Severus let the moment hang, clearly savoring it, before turning back to his notes. But Sirius, unwilling to let a conversation die once he had sunk his teeth into it, pressed on.

"You know," he said, tapping his fingers against the arm of the couch, "it just seems odd to me that you'd carry that name for so long."

Severus let out a slow, measured breath. "What do you expect, Black? You still live in your childhood home. We all have our burdens."

Sirius made a thoughtful noise, tilting his head. "Or maybe," he mused, "you just need a new one. Something a little more… regal."

Severus glanced at him, unimpressed. "Regal?"

Sirius shrugged. "I'm just saying—Prince has a nice ring to it. Imagine me, dating a Prince. Sounds scandalously romantic, don't you think?"

Severus hummed absentmindedly, as if working something out in his mind.

For a moment, the conversation lapsed into silence. Then, as if plucking something out of the air, Severus spoke.

"Venus' Rasp Sane Beati."

Sirius blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Severus smirked faintly, fingers tapping lightly against the edge of his parchment. "'Truly blessed by Venus, the goddess of victory."

Sirius frowned, mouthing the words to himself before squinting at Severus. "That's the most pretentious thing you've ever said, and you once called yourself the Half-Blood Prince."

Severus ignored him. "It's an anagram," he said smoothly. "Severus Tobias Snape. Wasn't working with much to begin with, but it's still better than 'Fleet from Death.'"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Dramatic. Even for you."

Severus smirked faintly, idly tapping his quill against the parchment. "Perhaps."

Sirius studied him, something thoughtful flickering behind his usual mischief. "Or maybe Venus, the goddess of love," he murmured, stretching out on the couch. "I think 'blessed by love' suits you better. It's always been love that's led you down the right path."

Severus gave him a long, unimpressed look, but something unreadable flickered in his expression—something softer, if only for a moment.

"That's a stretch," he muttered, but there was no real bite to it.

Sirius smirked. "Yeah, well. So was falling in love with you, but here we are."

Severus shook his head, but the smallest, quietest smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The problem with Sirius Black was that once he got an idea in his head, it refused to leave. It nestled in, made itself comfortable, and took over every available thought like a particularly insufferable houseguest.

And right now, that idea was… proposal.

It had started as a joke—just a throwaway deflection during a normal conversation. But now, the damn thing wouldn't leave him alone.

Sirius found himself glancing at Severus more often than usual, as if the answer to a question he hadn't even fully formed might be found in the sharp lines of his face, in the way he methodically stirred his tea, in the way his fingers moved when he absently smoothed over the pages of a book.

Did Severus even want something like that?

Sirius had never been one for tradition, for formalities and spoken promises. His family had turned marriage into a political tool, an obligation, a means to an end. But this—them—wasn't that. It had never been that.

It was shared mornings with fingers tangled in bedsheets. It was biting remarks softened by shared glances, late-night conversations held in half-whispers, Severus brewing an extra cup of tea without being asked.

It was home.

He always claimed to hate Grimmauld Place, but when offered a chance to live full-time at Hogwarts—the place he once thought of as his real home—he still chose to floo back every day.

Because Severus had said, dryly, that he'd had enough of living in a castle full of children for a lifetime. Sirius had laughed at the time, but now the memory settled deeper—how easily Severus had dismissed Hogwarts, how naturally he'd spoken of staying here, with him. It lingered like a quiet promise.

And Sirius realized then, with a quiet certainty, that he wanted to make it permanent.

Now the real problem was figuring out how the hell to do it.

Because Severus Snape didn't swoon over grand gestures. He wouldn't appreciate fireworks spelling out Marry me, you sarcastic git across the sky (which, to be fair, had briefly crossed Sirius's mind). He wouldn't want an audience, wouldn't want anything overly sentimental or dramatic.

Which left Sirius in an uncomfortable position—one that called for more than snark and good cheekbones, and unfortunately, actual thought.

He watched Severus one evening, sprawled sideways on the couch, absentmindedly flipping through a book he wasn't really reading. Across the room, Severus sat at his usual spot by the fireplace, a cup of tea balanced precariously on the arm of his chair, his focus on a book of his own.

The firelight made his features softer, less guarded. His hair fell over his face, and he absently pushed it back, completely unaware that Sirius was watching him like he held the goddamn secrets of the universe.

And maybe he did.

Sirius exhaled slowly. Right.

He needed a plan.

For the next few days, Sirius found himself preoccupied—distracted even in ways he never was. He lost track of conversations, stirred his tea with a spoon and his wand simultaneously, and once even nearly stepped on Nyx's tail, because his mind was too busy working through how he was going to propose.

Severus, of course, noticed.

"You're acting strange," he said one evening, eyeing Sirius, who was fidgeting with his sleeve and bouncing his leg like it owed him Galleons.

Sirius snorted. "You think I'm not usually strange? That's a new one."

Severus just stared.

Sirius tried a grin, then gave up under the weight of Severus's look. The kind that could wither a lesser man's soul.

"It's nothing," he said—too fast, too light.

Severus's gaze flicked over him, unimpressed. "So, you're distracted, fidgeting, and avoiding eye contact—nothing, indeed. Shall I prepare a calming draught, or would you prefer to continue pretending you have a functional attention span?"

Sirius groaned and flopped back against the couch, throwing an arm over his face. "God, you're exhausting."

"And you are irritating."

From under his arm, Sirius peeked at him. "Well," he murmured, softer than he meant to, "Guess we're stuck with each other."

Severus stilled for a fraction of a second—so quickly that anyone else wouldn't have noticed. But Sirius did. He saw it in the way Severus's fingers hesitated slightly on the book he was holding, in the way his expression flickered before returning to its usual neutrality.

And that was it, wasn't it? That was the whole thing—the reason Sirius wanted to do this right.

Because Severus always expected people to leave.

Not that he'd ever admit it—but Sirius knew. It was in the walls he built, the distance he kept.

And Sirius—he'd always run. Of letting the world decide for him, of slipping away before he ever got the chance to choose.

But this time, he wanted to stay. He wanted to choose.

And to be chosen.

Now he just had to make sure Severus would say yes.

Three days later, he had a plan.

Nothing elaborate. No fireworks. No public declarations.

Just them, the way it had always been—quiet, sharp-edged, honest.

When the fire was low and the world outside was silent, Sirius set down his empty mug and turned to Severus.

"Alright," he said, rubbing his palms on his jeans, "I've got something to say. You're not allowed to mock me until I'm done. Or, preferably, ever."

Severus, who had just picked up his book, lowered it slightly, one eyebrow arched in suspicion. "…This will be difficult, but proceed."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He rubbed his hands together, suddenly feeling stupidly nervous, and then, before he could overthink it, he turned fully to face Severus.

"I want to marry you."

The words landed heavy and certain in the space between them.

Severus blinked. His fingers tensed slightly on the book, like he was waiting for the punchline.

It didn't come.

Severus exhaled through his nose, slowly setting the book down. His face was unreadable, but Sirius had learned to read between the silences.

"You want to," Severus repeated carefully. Not a question—more like an analysis of the words themselves, as if trying to pick apart their meaning.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. I do." He tilted his head, watching him. "And not because it's some big romantic gesture, or because I think we need a fancy ceremony, or—whatever it is you're thinking right now. It's just…" He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I like being here. With you. I like waking up and knowing you'll be there. I like that we have a stupid little cat who's probably plotting my murder, and I like that we make each other roll our eyes so hard it's basically a health hazard. I like the life I have with you."

Severus's lips twitched—small, but there.

Sirius took that as a good sign and continued.

"I want to marry you because I want to stay," he said, his voice softer now. "Neither of us had much of that before, but I want it now. I want it forever. With you."

Silence.

Severus looked at him—really looked. Gaze sharp, searching, like he was picking apart every word, looking for the trap.

Sirius let him.

Eventually, Severus set his book aside.

"I don't need a ring." A pause and then, "and I don't want a ceremony full of people."

Sirius let out a breath of laughter, relief washing through him like a wave. "Yeah, well. I figured." He nudged Severus's foot lightly with his own. "That a yes, then?"

Severus sighed, long and theatrical, then fixed Sirius with a look that could cut steel.

"Yes, you absolute menace," he muttered.

Sirius grinned so wide it hurt.

No grand gestures. No audience. Just this.

Him and Severus.

Always.

Notes:

Apologies for the anagram bit—I only had the help of ChatGPT, and sadly, not all of us can be Tom Riddle. This is the final installment with the name-related themes, and likely the last extra chapter in the series. Thank you all for joining me on this journey.