Severus had woken up gay.

He didn’t know how it had happened, or why, but there was no denying it. Never before had he felt any interest in men, yet from the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning he had been unable to think of anything other than firm bodies, rough skin and hard cocks. Especially hard cocks.

That alone would have been bad enough, but given his line of work… How could anyone be expected to give Voldemort his undivided attention, keep his mind closed to Legilimency and his lies straight, while his brain was busy wondering what Lucius Malfoy would look like naked, or whether the Lestrange brothers were as close as many a sharp tongue claimed. Which had brought an entire new set of images to mind, images that would have turned his stomach only a day before, but now made his heart beat faster and his cock so hard he worried it might be noticeable even through his robes. Thankfully, Pettigrew had walked into the room mere moments later to kneel in front of Voldemort, and the new set of images that invoked quickly took care of Severus’ little problem.

Severus should have known it would only get worse from there. The meeting with the Death Eaters was quickly followed by an Order meeting, and for some reason it seemed as if every single Order member had decided to attend.

Sitting in the back, he had decided to perform a little test, to see just how bad his condition was. Trying to recover some of the control and cold logic he prided himself on, he focused his attention on the women in the room first. Closest to him was Nymphadora Tonks. It was hard to think of her as anything other than loud-mouthed and exasperating, but Severus focused on more…objective attributes. Soft skin. Silky hair. He could just divine the swell of her breasts as she leaned closer to Charlie Weasley.

No. No spark of interest, no tingle in his…anything. But then again, it was Nymphadora Tonks he was looking at.

A little further into the room sat Hermione Granger. Wild hair. Face flushed. Short skirt. Long legs slightly apart. Ronald Weasley’s hand slowly moving between her thighs, upwards, upwards. With a barely stifled groan Severus looked away. The mere thought of…womanly parts, made him shudder. And not in a good way. He had never been one to let his baser instincts run freely, but this was ridiculous. What on earth was wrong with him? He didn’t feel sick, and could think of any curse that would do something like this. Perhaps he was simply tired, his mind playing tricks on him.

A soft, singsong voice reached his ears then, words spoken in heavily accented English accompanied by loud steps, and he knew Fleur Delacour had just arrived. If anyone could make his brain work properly again, it would be the beautiful part Veela. It was with anticipation that Severus turned to the door, hoping for an image that would make him straight again. But it wasn’t the witch’s blonde hair that caught his attention, nor her blue eyes or ethereal beauty. It was the man she was clinging to. Bill Weasley.

Bloody hell, what was wrong with him?

Before Severus could do much more than curse himself, he was asked to address the room and report on the Death Eaters’ plans to rule the world. Plans that usually involved violence and death. And Sex. Countless hours of naked, writhing flesh, of Death Eaters taking their pleasure wherever they could find it, blinded by the high of the battle, the alcohol, the intoxicating potions. Perhaps Severus would stay a little longer next time, perhaps he would see if Rodolphus and Rabastan together looked as breath-taking in reality as they had in his mind. Perhaps he could join Lucius as he found a young man to play with. Perhaps he could be the man Lucius played with. Whatever had happened to him, it hadn’t only made him gay, it had also made him randy as hell.

Severus cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to clear his mind, finding himself once more with a noticeable bulge between his legs that his robes could barely hide. He had to think of something else. Dumbledore. Naked Dumbledore. Wrinkly, naked Dumbledore. Dumbledore in a bikini. Dancing and surrounded by house-elves. And Filch.

That was enough to buy him a few minutes of peace, in which he managed to relay the new information, storm out of the room and into the kitchen, and down three glasses of Firewhisky.

He had barely recovered some of his composure when he heard someone move behind him.

“Everything all right, Snivellus?”

“Black,” he almost groaned, pouring himself another glass of Firewhisky.

“Do make yourself at home.”

“Playing good host, now? Your mother would be proud,” he said, as he downed his glass yet again, slower this time. “Do you have nothing better to do than follow me around, mutt? With all the people in the house, I would’ve expected you to be running from one to the next, wagging your tail and drooling all over them.”

“I was merely curious as to what you were up to,” Black said, calmly. “You left the room in haste and seemed…rather flushed.”

“Did I?” he asked, turning around. Whatever he meant to say next he didn’t know, everything forgotten at the sight of Black leaning back against the closed door, strong arms crossed over his chest, grey eyes shining with mirth, full lips twisted in that sexy smirk. Sexy smirk? What was wrong with him? This was even worse than he had thought. Clearly he had gone insane, there was no other explanation for his behaviour. Why else would he notice the way those open robes clung to Black’s broad shoulders, or the firm muscles visible over the collar of his shirt, or the way the hem rode up just a few centimetres whenever he drew in a breath? And most important of all, why was Black’s look of amusement turning into interest, heat?

Severus looked at him for a few more seconds, desire, confusion and fear battling inside him, and then he looked further back. At the door. The only way out of the room, blocked by the smirking wizard. Did he dare walk to it, if it meant moving closer to Black?

“What’s the matter, Severus? Kneazle got your tongue?”

“Have to go back…to the meeting,” he mumbled, taking a step forward.

“No need to rush,” Black said, stepping closer as well, the kitchen small enough that they were standing within reach. “Doubt they will be missing you.” There was no bite in Black’s words, and Severus had noticed his expression had changed, reminding him of his days at Hogwarts. Black was challenging him, but Severus wasn’t sure what the challenge was. He didn’t want to know. Regardless of what the rest of his body thought of the situation.

With what little self-control he had left, Severus moved forward, sidestepping Black in an attempt to reach the exit, but a second later Black stopped him, turned him around and pushed him against the door. Then he leaned forward, closer, lining up their bodies until there was barely any room between them.

Severus stood frozen, unable to do anything other than feel every inch of Black against him, feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. Then Black smirked again, that sexy little twist of his lips, and Severus lose control.

Whatever had happened to him that had made him gay and randy, it had obviously also made him stupid. That was the only explanation for what he did next. Why else would he ever grab Black’s robes, pull him closer and use his own mouth to erase the smirk off the bastard’s lips? That would have been bad enough, of course, but then he felt Black’s cock against his own, hard as rock, his hips grinding ever so slowly against Severus’, and he moaned, moaned , and rocked against him.

Black’s hold on him was strong, his hands rough, his body firm, his lips chapped and the kiss hard and desperate. There was nothing soft about him, he was completely, blatantly male, and it all made Severus’ cock even harder. He had definitely gone gay. A shirt lifter! How could that have happened?

Despite the confusion he felt, the knowledge that he despised the man currently rutting against him, the fact that it was a man he was rutting against, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Especially not when Black’s hand undid his trousers and slipped inside, when his fingers wrapped around Severus’ cock and tugged . And when Black guided Severus’ hand to his cock, Severus did the same, lost in the feeling, not stopping to think.

He copied Black’s rhythm, his fist moving faster and faster over the wizard’s cock, his own hips moving just as fast, seeking more friction, until he couldn’t hold back any more, Black’s mouth silencing his groans as he came all over the wizard’s hand, his grip tightening and sending Black over the edge seconds later.

Severus closed his eyes and rested his head back against the door as he tried to catch his breath, and as the seconds ticked by the fog clouding his mind seemed to lift slightly. Enough for Severus to realise what had just happened, and for him to notice the voices outside, the footsteps coming closer, announcing the meeting was over.

****

Sirius stepped back and lazily reached for his wand, cleaning himself and rearranging his clothes as he watched Snape panic and attempt to do the same, then rush out the door the second his cock was tucked in. Those standing in the hallway followed Snape’s steps with narrowed eyes, then turned to him, seeing his smirk and his wand drawn and reaching their own conclusions.

As he turned away from them and sat on one of the kitchen chairs, he wondered what would happen if they knew what had just transpired between him and Snivellus. More than a few heads would probably explode from shock alone. In some cases, that wouldn’t be bad at all.

After only a few moments the voices in the hallway died away, the sound of the door closing announcing he was once more alone in the house. Only this time it didn’t bother him as much as it usually did.

Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out a small bottle and left it on the table. It was one of the twins’ clever new trinkets, nicked from them just a few days earlier. Pink Ponce Polish, it was called, and they had claimed that it could turn anyone gay. All one had to do was paint their target’s toe nails with it, and the victim would wake up a flaming homosexual, its effects lasting an entire day. Sirius had been looking for someone to try it on since.

It hadn’t been his fault that Snape had spent the previous night researching his family library and had fallen asleep on the sofa. It had been fate, calling to him, showing him a new way to torment the bastard. Snape should have known better than to fall asleep without casting any safety charm with him in the house, after all. It was his own fault.

To be honest, he hadn’t expected the nail polish to have such an effect on Snape, the twins’ trinkets were known to backfire from time to time, but he certainly didn’t regret a thing, he hadn’t had that much fun in quite a while. In fact, he wondered how much further things could go, were he to use the nail polish on Snape again. Maybe he could get him alone for longer than ten minutes; he hadn’t seemed to mind their encounter either, after all. And truth was, Sirius could always do with some entertainment, even if it came from good ol’ Snivellus and magical nail polish.