Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2009-04-09 10:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | hp ficlets severus/sirius |
HP ficlet: Tryst [Severus/Sirius, adult]
Title: Tryst
Author: celandineb
Fandom: HP
Pairing: Severus/Sirius
Rating: adult
Length: 380 words.
Warnings: I wouldn't quite call it hate!sex, but...
Summary: Their mutual need is stronger than their antagonism.
Note: For littleblackbow who wanted Sirius/Snape, Yule Ball.
"There hasn't been a Yule Ball in fifty years, you idiot," Black was telling Pettigrew as they entered the library. "There's no point in thinking about who you'd go with."
Severus scowled ferociously at all four Gryffindors, but it took Madam Pince's angry shushing before the gang of them settled into relative quiet at one of the back tables. Meanwhile Severus continued writing his essay for Charms; the assignment called for a two-foot essay, and Severus had nearly three already, but he preferred to be thorough.
When he had finished and blown on the last glistening lines of ink to dry them so that they wouldn't smear, he got up and strolled casually through the gloomy stacks to an alcove tucked away near the Restricted Section. He had no fear that his possessions would be disturbed in his absence. There were other Slytherins at the table next to his, and besides, he always placed hexes on his belongings, just in case.
The alcove was empty; Severus stepped into it and waited.
Black was late. He nearly always was, testing the limits of Severus's patience, but what they provided to each other was something that neither wanted to risk losing. Black might be as handsome as Lucifer before the Fall, and nearly as well-connected, but he wouldn't want to anyone know that he was a nancy boy, would he? And Severus likewise had no wish to have his preferences known. Their mutual dislike was no sham, but they both needed the relief -- and the discretion -- that the other could supply.
Thus when Black finally turned up, Severus was ready with a spell to conceal them as they grappled with each other, hands down the front of each other's robes, searching out the hardness of a straining prick and jerking it quickly to messy completion.
"Tomorrow. Greenhouse Two, eight o'clock," were the only words that Black said as he unceremoniously tucked his prick back into his clothing and shook his robes into place.
Severus gave him a cold stare for having usurped Severus's turn at choosing the location of their next tryst, but nodded nevertheless. He neither asked nor cared how Black would give his cronies the slip and reach the greenhouses unobserved. That was Black's problem. Severus would be there, waiting.