: In MemoriamAuthor
: Severus Snape, Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus LupinRating
: NON CON, dub con, group sex, double penetration, violence, language, potion misuseThemes/kinks chosen
: orgyWord Count
: 5000 (or thereabouts)Summary
: Sirius is looking for Regulus. He doesn’t know it at first, but he’s found the next best thing.Author's notes
: Thanks mucho to the mods for allowing me to post this late due to computer foul-ups.
Severus Snape’s head made a satisfying thump as he was slammed against the wall, but that wasn’t the sort of satisfaction Sirius Black was looking for. Back in school, it would have given him a warm, comfortable feeling, but now he was too cold on the inside to feel it. Cold, and getting colder.
“Where is he?” Sirius snarled. He had Snape’s right wrist pinned to the wall, and his arm across his throat, pressing hard enough that he could feel Snape’s Adam’s apple work as he swallowed.
“Get the fuck off me, Black,” Snape snarled right back. His lips were peeled back from his crooked teeth and his black eyes were filled with loathing. They’d been wide with shock barely moments before when he’d stepped out of the loo, still tucking his black vest into his torn jeans, and run smack into Sirius, whom he clearly hadn’t expected to find in a Muggle pub. Especially not a gay Muggle pub. Snape had gone for his wand immediately, but that half-second of disorientation had cost him. Before he could even form a curse, Sirius had him up against the wall of a little used storeroom, James smirking at his side and twirling Snape’s wand, and Remus warding the door.
“Tell me where he is!” Sirius demanded again, squeezing the bony wrist in his grasp and leaning harder on Snape’s throat. “I know you know, so spill it, Snivellus.”
“Don’t—know—talking about,” Snape choked, clawing at Sirius’s arm with his free hand. His pallid face was starting to go red and his eyes were bugging out. Sirius forced himself to ease off his throat a little, and Snape exhaled in a hiss.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” he growled. “What have you and your Death Eater cronies done with Regulus
Something changed in Snape’s eyes when Sirius said his brother’s name; some unidentifiable emotion hurried through them before they snapped shut like doors, leaving the thin face guarded and suspicious.
“Why do you care, Black?” he sneered. “You’ve been more of a brother to Potter
than to your own flesh and blood.”
Sirius felt his face heat up. “You’re not the one asking questions here, Snivellus,” he snapped. “All I want to hear from you is an answer. Where the hell is he?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Snape glared.
“You’re lying,” Sirius insisted. “I should have known you’d lie!”
“Then why are you even asking me?” Snape snorted impatiently, twisting against Sirius’ hold.
“Because I need to know!” Sirius hadn’t meant for those words to sound so desperate. Snape arched a brow at him, his mouth quirking into a wry line.
“Feeling guilty, Black?” he asked softly, dark eyes sharp as an accusation. For a moment, Sirius was so filled with anger that he saw Snape through a crimson haze, and found both his hands twisting into the front of his black leather jacket, jerking him forward. He wanted to shake Snape, wanted to see his head whipping back and forth until he heard the snap of his scrawny neck, but he saw Snape’s thin lips drawing back in an even thinner smile and realized that was just what Snape wanted: for him to lose control.
With a deep growl, he yanked Snape off his feet and smashed him back against the wall, holding him off the floor so that their faces were level. He saw the black eyes flare in momentary shock, then Snape’s long, spidery fingers were clawing at his arms and his booted feet were lashing out. Cursing, he trapped Snape’s legs against the wall with his own and rattled him just once, hard.
” he demanded through bared teeth, eye to eye with Snape. “He’s my brother, damn it! I deserve to know.”
Sirius could feel Snape’s chest beneath his arms, moving with each sharp breath, feel him swallowing against his fists. He was so close he could discern the black pupils in Snape’s eyes, saw them flash briefly with something that was not surprise, fear or hate. Sirius felt his throat tighten involuntarily when he recognized it as pain.
“You deserve to know,” he sneered in a tight, taunting whisper. The spark of pain Sirius had seen in his eyes was starting to burn. “Did you ever think you’re not the only one who does?”
Snape’s words were like snow melting under his collar, their implication trickling down his spine. His mouth worked mutely, and he saw satisfaction smoulder in Snape’s eyes, but before Sirius could get his words out, James made a disgusted sound.
“Give it up, Pads,” James said, flipping Snape’s wand in his hand. “Asking politely never did work on Snivellus. I’d say it’s time for some harsher measures.” He cut his eyes at Remus, who was standing near the door, arms crossed, with a stern look on his usually affable features. “Reckon you ought to throw up a Silencio on that door, Remus.”
“Already done,” he answered quietly. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Sirius and Snape. “We could hold a Quidditch match in here and no one would hear it.”
“Brilliant,” James approved. “What’ll we start with, then? Maybe a targeted Incendio?” He spoke lightly, as if discussing what they might have for tea. “Bet the greasy git’s hair would go up like a torch.”
“James...” Remus said in a low, warning tone.
“Yeah, you’re right,” James allowed, studying Snape with narrowed eyes. “Probably burn the whole place down, wouldn’t it? I say we just move straight on to the hard stuff. They say you’ve really got to hate someone to cast a Crucio, but I think Snivy here might be just the ticket.”
Snape’s lip curled and he gave James a contemptuous look. “Unforgivables, Potter? Gryffindor morality’s hit an all time low, I see.”
“Desperate times, desperate measures,” James shrugged, not sounding at all troubled.
“You touch me and you’ll pay dearly for it,” Snape spit. He didn’t show any fear, but Sirius could feel Snape’s heart beating faster.
“As if I would!” James snorted. “That’s the beauty of magic, isn’t it? I’ll stand right here, and you’ll suffer over there.”
Sheer hatred contorted Snape’s features and he swung his head around sharply, as if he couldn’t bear to look at James any longer, and fixed his gaze on Remus.
“Still playing the spectator, Lupin?” he mocked. “Or do you plan to actually participate
in this cozy little torture-fest?” If he had expected Remus to look away or shift uncomfortably, he was disappointed.
“This isn’t school yard bullying,” he said quietly, with no change to his expression. “This is about someone’s life. If you know anything, then you’d best tell us, Severus.”
That one sentence had more effect on Snape that all of James’ threats. His eyes flared wide, his face went white with rage and he began to struggle fiercely against Sirius, fighting to get out of his grasp; not to get away, but to get to Remus.
“Don’t you dare
use my name, you bloody monster!” Snape raged at him, spit flying from his lips as he kicked at Sirius’ legs and tore at his arms. “Don’t you fucking dare
pretend you’re my friend, you miserable, pathetic coward
! You think you’re any better than this lot because all you ever did was fucking watch them
“Shut up!” Sirius roared, barely managing to keep hold of Snape with one hand, and backhanding him across the face with the other. Snape’s head snapped aside with the force of the blow, and before he could get his bearings, Sirius slammed him against the wall once more, then grabbed his leather jacket and shoved it down to his elbows, trapping his arms. Pinned against the wall and breathing hard, Snape barely seemed to notice this. His wild, black eyes were still fixed on Remus, who had gone frighteningly pale and actually taken a step back. Even James seemed stunned by Snape’s outburst.
“Pads, what the bloody fuck...?”
Sirius couldn’t answer him. He had one hand was clenched around Snape’s throat and the other on his bony shoulder, but he was staring at Snape’s bare arm, at the red, half-healed scar revealed when he had pulled his jacket down. The mark burned on the inside of the pale, sinewy bicep, cut there not with the smooth lines of a wand but with the rough nicks of a small, sharp blade: a star made of three intersecting lines with a three-pronged crown above it. Sirius had seen that mark before. It was the one that Regulus had put in all his books. The one he’d scored into the wood of his bed rail with the small knife that Sirius had given him the Christmas before he left home. The mark that he put on everything he considered his.
Snape was still glaring at Remus, but Sirius grabbed his jaw and wrenched his head around to face him.
“That mark on your arm,” Sirius hissed. “How did you get it?”
Snape’s eyes went from angry to confused, then followed Sirius’ gaze down to the scar. When they flicked back to Sirius, it was with a sidelong smirk.
“From the look on your face, I’d say you know perfectly well how I got it.”
“You’re lying,” Sirius said automatically, even though he knew he wasn’t.
“So you keep saying,” Snape huffed, “and yet you keep asking me questions.”
“C’mon, mate,” James injected, sounding impatient. “You’re wasting your time. The ugly wanker wouldn’t give you the right time of day without proper encouragement. The sooner we get it out of him, the sooner we don’t have to look at him anymore.”
“Right,” Sirius said softly, almost as if he was talking to himself. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of Snape. “Right,” he repeated, a little louder, eyes hardening. “Prongs, check my pocket. There’s a bottle...”
“Got it.” James reached into Sirius’ jacket before he’d finished speaking and plucked out a small flask. He held the green-tinted bottle aloft, peering at it as he tilted it. It held a thick, syrupy liquid that moved slowly and clung to the sides. Snape stared at the bottle too, the smugness gone from his expression.
“Veritaserum?” he sneered. “How unoriginal. Save yourself the trouble, Black,” he added, sounding bored. “I’m immune.”
“Yeah?” Sirius bared his teeth in a grin. “I figured as much. That’s why this isn’t Veritaserum.” He felt a thrill of pleasure at the shadow of concern that crossed Snape’s face.
“This what you got from Moody, then?” James wanted to know, still squinting at the bottle.
“That’s the stuff,” Sirius confirmed. He felt Snape go very still.
“What kind of potion is that?” Remus asked, his voice wary. He stepped closer to get a better look.
“Not altogether sure,” James said, leering unpleasantly at Snape. “I believe ‘experimental’ was the word Mad Eye used.”
“You mean you don’t know what it does?” Remus frowned.
“We know it’ll loosen his tongue quick enough,” Sirius said, watching the colour drain from Snape’s face. “Moody said a few drops would have him begging to tell us whatever we wanted to hear.”
“How does it work?” Remus asked, still suspicious.
“No idea,” James shrugged cheerfully. “I say we pour some down Snivy’s gullet and find out.”
“Fine by me,” Sirius growled. “I’ll hold him. Remus, you get his mouth open.”
Remus hesitated, looking concerned.
“Not losing your stomach for this, are you, mate?” James said, narrowing his eyes at Remus. “This is Snape
, all right? Not like he doesn’t deserve whatever happens.”
“Shut it, James,” Remus growled, casting Potter an ugly look. He reached out to grasp Snape’s hair and jaw but before he could get a firm hold, Snape yanked his head away with an angry snarl and started struggling in earnest to get away. He sank his teeth into Sirius’ wrist and bit down hard, trying to twist out of his grip as Sirius cursed and tried to yank his arm away.
“Fuck! Remus, get him!” Sirius swore, blood dribbling down his hand as he fought to keep hold of Snape, who was thrashing like a serpent. “Hold him, damn it!”
“I’m trying!” Remus yelled, hanging on to a handful of Snape’s hair and fighting to get hold of his jaw. “James, the potion! Open the bloody potion!”
“Hurry!” roared Sirius, fending off a bony knee from his crotch.
“Get his mouth open!” James shouted as he broke the seal on the flask. “C’mon, Remus, hold him!” He pulled the stopper and the scent of the potion surrounded them, a miasma of rose petals, honey and rotten eggs. Remus started to gag, but Sirius heard Snape hiss “No!” and glanced up in time to see his eyes widen with horror – with recognition – just as Remus started to pry his mouth open.
“Hah!” James gloated, grabbing the other side of Snape’s head and stretching the flask toward his mouth. “Got you, you slimy....”
James never finished what he was going to say, because Snape sucked in a terrified breath at the sight of the potion flask, and spit out three sharp syllables in a language Sirius had never heard before. James swore as his fingers cramped into a clawlike gesture, and the flask slipped out of his hand. Unable to prevent it, Sirius watched it plummet to the concrete floor and shatter, leaving a starburst of tiny shards and a smoking blot of potion that became an enveloping mist before he even had time to blink.
The bitter fog muffled him like a blanket leaving him unable to see, unable to hear anything but the pounding of his own heart, unable to feel anything but the blood starting to burn in his veins until his body was mapped with lines of heat. He tried to shake the shroud off his senses, but even when he finally felt his hands and knees against the concrete floor, could finally open his eyes, he couldn’t understand what he was seeing at first.Regulus!
his heart lurched, but the figure he thought he recognized resolved into something less familiar. The black hair fell in straggly locks instead of a silken sheaf, the gasping lips were thin and pale rather than lush and red, the wide, glazed eyes were ink black instead of ice grey. It was Snape, not Regulus, who was sprawled against the wall, but for some reason Sirius’ heart and stomach twisted just the same. His eyes still stung at the sight of him, his fingers burned to touch the moon-pale skin, his cock – oh Merlin, what was wrong with him? Because he knew it was Snape – Snape! – but his balls were tingling and his cock was starting to fill just the same.
He tried to say something, but only groaned – a thin, wretched, hungry sound that he wanted to deny. A sound that had been wrenched from his throat at the sight of Snape sprawled on his knees, arms tangled in his jacket, hair tangled in his face, black vest riding up above his studded belt to show the pale flesh of his heaving stomach. Wisps of the potion-mist still clung to him, threading his hair, licking over his skin. Sirius watched a brief convulsion surge through the narrow frame and groaned again, helpless to stop it as his own body echoed the shudder.
“...fuck.... fuck...” The choked, mewling curses came from Sirius’ left, and he tried to focus on the voice. It was James, struggling to push himself upright but failing, hands sliding as if the concrete floor was made of ice. Across from him, Remus was on his knees, head bowed, shoulders shaking, one arm wrapped around his stomach, his other hand clutching at his thigh. He raised his head and Sirius felt a dizzy pang of guilt and arousal at the sight of his friend’s ravaged expression.
“What...” he rasped, trying to get his breath. “What the—was ....” He knew what Remus was asking – what the hell had
Moody given him in that bottle? – but before he could answer, Remus’ eyes went wide at the sound of a ragged groan, and his head whipped around. Snape had slumped to one side, nearly to the floor, and was panting harshly, twisting and thrashing as if in pain.
“Severus!” Remus hissed. “Oh damn—Severus.” Gritting his teeth, Remus pulled himself to Snape’s side, leaning over him to push locks of black hair out of eyes that were wide and glazed and nearly insensible. “Oh Merlin, Severus,” he murmured, sliding trembling fingers along Snape’s face and over a bare shoulder. “... didn’t mean... I didn’t—oh god!”
Sirius opened his mouth to try and call out to Remus, to demand what he thought he was doing, touching Snape like that, but his mouth went dry and his belly clenched as he watched Remus’ hands stroke the sliver of Snape’s bare belly and push his vest up, revealing waist and ribs and small rose-brown nipples that stiffened as his thumbs glided over them. Remus was staring at his hands as if even he couldn’t believe what they were doing, but then his head dipped down, his tongue flicked out, and he was kissing Snape’s chest, biting down on a swelling nipple. Snape cried out as another shudder flashed through his body, and he arched against Remus’ teeth, eyes squeezed shut, mouth working.
“Please!” the hoarse whisper grated out of his dry lips. “Oh—please
Something burst behind Sirius’ eyes at the need in Snape’s voice, and he pressed his face against his fists, hearing Moody’s words echoing in his head. He’ll be begging you... begging you...
He hadn’t really understood what Moody had been telling him –hadn’t really cared, at the time – but he did now.
“Fuck!” Sirius tried to say, but it wasn’t his voice, it was James; James who’d pushed himself up on his hands and was staring with a mix of horror and fascination at the way Remus was kissing and touching Snape, and the way Snape was writhing and panting beneath him. “Fuck!” James hissed again, shoulders hunching as if a wave of pain had struck him. “No! No way—can’t—Remus! Damn it!”
James struggled forward, reaching out to grab Remus, to pull his face from Snape’s chest, and a wave of heat tore through Sirius as James pressed their mouths together. Both men groaned as their tongues wove together, but even as they kissed, Remus hands were still stroking Snape, and James’ fingers were following, intertwining until both were travelling over the thin body – along the dip of his stomach, down his thigh, and up until their fingers were cupping and kneading the growing bulge at Snape’s crotch.
“Oh Merlin!” Sirius groaned as Snape whined and twisted, grinding up into their hands. This was too much for Remus, who gave a feral growl and started tearing open Snape’s jeans and shoving them down, even as he bit and gnawed at James’ mouth. James growled and bit back, also tugging at Snape’s clothes, until the two of them had his jeans opened and his pants yanked down and his heavy prick straining in their grip. The sight of it hit Sirius like a hot bolt that crackled down his spine and burst in his loins, and before he could think what he was doing, he was between Snape’s legs, pushing James and Remus away, grabbing the narrow hips and swallowing the full length of that thick cock.
He heard a muffled, howling sound, and Snape surged under him, but Sirius pushed him down, moaning around the hard flesh throbbing in his mouth, hot and salty-slick and electric on his tongue. He pressed his palms against sharp hip bones, fingers gripping lean, chilly muscle that wouldn’t stay still, that wouldn’t stop moving under him, and bobbed his head, sliding his lips up and down the thick shaft that was already leaking on his tongue. Sirius curled his fingers into the waist of Snape’s jeans and tugged them further down the slim thighs, wanting more – more flesh, more skin, more of everything. Other hands were pulling at his clothes, fingers winding in his hair, and he couldn’t untangle the groans and grunts and the shift of other bodies against his own.
Sirius buried his face in Snape’s groin, nose pressing into the soft flesh of his abdomen as the hard cock slid further into his throat, and raised his hips as he felt his jeans stripped off with his boots. He groaned at the feel of his own cock freed from its prison and filling fast – stretching, aching, already dripping – then the hot relief of fingers encasing him, of a rough palm massaging his balls, and the press of limbs and bodies, bare and sweating, against his own. Beneath his face, he could feel Snape’s stomach muscles tensing, and reached up to cup his balls, feeling them drawing up, hearing a frantic moaning, but then firm fingers gripped his hair and were dragging him up and off the hot shaft. He started to protest, but then he was pushed over and down, and he grunted in pleasure as a hot mouth engulfed his own prick, the cold metal of James’ glasses pinching against his groin.
“God—yes!” he hissed, pushing up against James' swirling tongue, his head spinning with sensation. He reached out and found more heat, more warmth – his hand connecting with Remus’s flank. Sirius twisted his head to see Remus lying between Snape’s legs, pressing their cocks together with slow, sliding thrusts, as he dipped three fingers into Snape’s mouth. He was staring at Snape with half-lidded, dreamy eyes, and whispering softly to him.
“Get them wet,” Sirius heard him murmur, feeling his balls tighten at the intent in that husky voice. “Nice and wet, Severus. Suck them--just like that.”
“Moony, fuck!” Sirius panted, grabbing James’ head and turning onto his side to watch Remus draw his slick fingers from Snape’s mouth and sit up between his legs. Snape was now naked except for the leather jacket that still bound his arms and the black vest pushed up above his nipples, and Remus bent one of his long, bare legs as he slid his wet fingers under his bollocks, felt around and pressed in. Snape arched his hips and cried out as Remus pushed all three fingers into him. Sirius' cock throbbed at the sound, and the only reason he didn’t come was because James had pulled his mouth away and was gripping his prick at the base.
“Bloody cunting hell!” James hissed, staring wide-eyed as Snape writhed while Remus fucking him hard with his fingers. Snape’s head lashed from side to side, long hair flailing across his face as he moaned and panted. Remus made small, soothing sounds and petted his stomach, even as he twisted his fingers inside him.
“Please...” Snape panted, his voice stretched wire-thin. "Please—need—need....”
“What—what do you need?” Sirius surprised himself by asking, his own voice worn nearly as thin.
“...anything...” Snape whimpered, struggling against Remus’ fingers, his narrow face slick with sweat and taut with misery.
Memories of Regulus seeped into Sirius’ skull like ghosts -- Regulus sick and feverish, huddled in the center of his huge, antique bed; Regulus pale and pinched with eyes shadowed by nightmares; Regulus, thin and chilled, crawling into bed with him, poking his bony knees into Sirius’ hip -- and Sirius jerked up, kicking away from James, rolling over and grabbing Snape by the shoulders, dragging him close.
“Here,” he said roughly, not caring about Remus’ astonished eyes, or the incoherent look on James’ face. “Here,” Sirius panted, squirming between Snape’s legs, sliding their cocks together. Snape whimpered and turned his head away, breathing hard, his chest trembling. Sirius hesitated, wrapped an arm around Snape’s waist, then rolled them so he was on his back and Snape was straddling him, chest to chest, his long hair lying cold across Sirius’s shoulder.
“Here’s what you need,” Sirius whispered, reaching down to seize Snape’s arse, to lift him up and press his cock against Snape’s spit-slick hole. Sirius held him tight and arched his hips, pressing against taut muscle that suddenly yielded. They both moaned as Sirius pulled Snape down and slid inside.
“Yes,” Snape whimpered as Sirius wrapped his arms around him, holding him against his chest as he started thrusting into him. Sirius only groaned in answer, kneading Snape’s arse and lengthening his strokes, because if he'd spoken, he would have echoed that Yes
. Yes, because it was what they both needed.
“Don’t get too comfy there, Pads.” Sirius slowed his thrusts and opened his eyes, but didn’t release Snape. James was between his legs, looking down at him, his stiff cock in his hand, eyes glinting behind crooked glasses. “We’ve always had our fun with Snivellus together now, haven’t we? No reason to stop now, eh?”
Sirius felt Snape stiffen against him, but he held on to him. He stared at James, his heart beating harder, angrier for a moment, but then James’ mouth tugged into a lopsided grin – ugly, but familiar. “It’s Snape
,” he reminded Sirius, and part of Sirius went cold inside, because James was right. It was Snape.
It wasn’t Regulus.
“Fuck you, Prongs,” he said gruffly, but he spread his legs wider so James could kneel down. Snape jerked against him but he held him tight. He heard a growl, saw Remus beside him, but the werewolf wasn’t watching James. He was looking at Snape, whose face was turned to him. Remus' cock was jutting out, stiff and angry looking. He licked his lips, then reached over and wound his fingers in Snape’s hair. Snape bared his teeth at him and tried to jerk his head away, and Remus' eyes darkened.
“Go on, Prongs,” Remus said in a low voice. He wrapped a hand around his swollen cock and started stroking it slowly. “It's what he needs. Fuck him.”
“I intend to,” James grinned. Snape lurched against Sirius, who gripped him harder and closed his eyes. He heard James spit one, twice, and then felt hard, slick flesh poke at his balls, slide up the root of his shaft and bear down. The pressure was strange and intense – James’s cock, pressing against his, tight, almost painful, but good – and then Snape gasping, twisting, panting “No!” and straining to pull away, and for some reason Sirius couldn’t explain, he drew Snape’s head down against his shoulder and whispered “Hush!”
The pressure against Sirius's prick was almost an ache as James tried to force his way in -- lodging the head of his cock, then grunting as he bore down. The pressure around his cock intensified as he felt James' shaft sliding along his, squeezing against the underside, stimulating the vein, head butting against head. He was biting his lip and breathing hard, because it was like nothing he’d ever felt before, and he clung tight to Snape, who was making a thin, strange, sobbing sound against his neck as James fought his way inside.
“Fuck!” James panted, and Sirius could feel him trembling; feel all three of them trembling. “Can't believe—so tight! So—god!”
“Do it!” Sirius growled, trying not to move but finding it nearly impossible. His cock was pressed so tight between James' prick and the quivering heat of Snape's arse that he could barely stand it. “Damn it, James!” He felt James’ cock squeeze against his, pulling out – Merlin, so intense! – pressing back in, then again – a thick, slow, halting slide. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing fast, feeling the throb of his own prick against the throb of James’, surrounded by Snape's hotter, tighter grasp, and he knew he wasn’t going to last, knew none of them would.
“Fuck him, damn it!” Remus snarled, and Sirius cracked an eye open to see his friend’s usually mild face twisted with lust and something else, his fist working his cock. His other hand was still tangled in Snape’s hair, turning his face against Sirius’ chest. “C’mon, James, you wanted to do this!”
“Fuck—off—Moony!” James growled, and pushed in hard, going in so far his balls slapped against Sirius’ sac. Grabbing Snape’s hips, James gritted his teeth and pumped in and out, his cock moving faster and making slick, tight sounds until his breath caught and he doubled over. Sirius hissed, feeling the hot spurt of James’ come washing over his cock and he thrust up once, twice, as deep as he could push into Snape, who made a strange sound, a sharp, hiccupping moan, and clenched hard around him. Sirius' climax shook him like a terrier shaking a rat, snatching his breath away, the hot flood of his release almost an afterthought.
“Yes!” Remus growled, and Sirius felt a wet splatter against his cheek as Remus gasped. He opened one eye enough to see Remus still milking his cock, but slumping down on his heels at it sputtered again, and then gave a weaker pulse and was still.
“Fuck...” James whimpered. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, then seemed to realize he was slumped against Snape. “Fuck!” he reiterated, jerking back so his slackening cock popped out and he sat back on his arse. He sprawled there for a moment, shook his head, then looked around and shakily pushed himself to his knees, then to his feet. Sirius opened his eyes and saw him staring back down at them with a strange look, as if trying to figure out some way to explain or deny what had happened. He shook his head again, frowned, then leaned down and started grabbing his clothes.
“You just gonna lie there with that piece of shit on your dick?” James snorted at him, yanking one leg of his jeans on.
“Shut your gob, James,” Sirius said wearily, and didn’t move. He simply lay where he was, his arms still tight around Snape, who also hadn’t moved. He wondered if he was even conscious. He turned his head to look at Remus, who was massaging his temples. He seemed to feel Sirius’ eyes upon him and looked up, frowning. He blinked and paled a little when he saw they were still lying there.
“Severus,” he said softly, getting to his knees and leaning over them. He took Snape by the shoulders and pulled him upright, but Snape tensed and bristled, rearing his head and glaring at Remus. Despite this, Sirius saw that Snape's cock was only half-hard, and his stomach was slick with come.
“Get away from me, werewolf,” Snape spit. Remus stared at him for a moment, and Sirius saw a hollow look pass over his face. Silently, he took Snape’s jacket and pulled it up, resettling it on his shoulders and freeing his arms, then gently pulled Snape’s vest back down over his come-smeared stomach. Strangely enough, Snape didn't protest this. Remus paused for a moment, as if waiting for Snape to say something, then blinked and turned away. He picked up his clothes from the floor and moved away, casting one shadowed glance back that only Sirius saw.
Sirius expected Snape to move away from him just as quickly, but he remained there silently before pulling away and just sitting for a moment, perhaps to catch his breath. Sirius cock fell wet and slack against his thigh, making him feel even more naked than he was. Slowly, he sat up, rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shoved his fingers through his hair. Snape was still sitting there, half naked, staring at the concrete floor. Sirius wondered if he should say something, when his jeans hit him across the face.
“What are you waiting for?” James asked, tucking his shirt in. “Another round with Snivelly?”
“Get the fuck out of here, James,” Sirius growled at him. James eyed Snape and made a face.
“I’m not waiting around for you, Pads.”
"Glad to hear it.”
Sirius heard James mutter something under his breath, then the door creaked open and clanged shut. He didn’t know if Remus was still there. He found he didn’t really care. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, pulled his jeans on, then started looking for the rest of his clothes. Snape didn’t move.
“You just gonna sit there?”
Snape didn’t answer. Sirius worked his feet into his boots, then found his shirt. It was tangled up with Snape’s jeans, which he tossed to him. Again, Snape didn’t move. Sirius frowned.
“Are you... are you all right?”
“What the hell do you care, Black?”
Sirius snorted and shrugged. “I guess I don’t.” He buttoned up his shirt, then paused and crouched down, looking at Snape.
“Severus.” Snape’s head came up sharply, and he glared at Sirius. “Where is he?”
Snape gazed at him for a moment, then his eyes flicked down and he turned away. He picked up his jeans, stood up and started to put them on.
“I don’t know, Black.”
“If you did know,” Sirius ventured, “... would you tell me?”
Snape fastened his jeans and paused. His mouth quirked oddly, and he tilted his head so his hair hung in his face.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “Because I don’t.” Snape glared at the floor until he saw where James had dropped his wand. It had rolled beside a large crate. Snape bent gingerly -- Sirius felt a small sting of shame at that -- and picked it up with two fingers, peering at it as if it might be infected. “Waiting for something in particular, Black?” he asked, peering back at him. “Surely,” he drawled, “you’re not thinking of... apologizing?”
Sirius’ expression didn’t change. He considered Snape a moment longer. “I didn’t want to leave him,” he said quietly.
Snape raised an eyebrow. “Absolution, Black?” he said softly, narrowing his eyes. “Don’t look to me for that. Not for Regulus. Not for this. Not for anything.” His mouth quirked oddly, and he pointed his wand straight at Sirius, then brought it down in a quick gesture and Disapparated with a crack.
Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Fuck.”
“Ready to go?”
He looked around. Remus was leaning in the shadows, eyes glinting yellow. Sirius looked at him and shrugged, then headed for the door.
“Sirius.” He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. Remus hadn’t moved from the wall. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“About Regulus?” Remus didn’t respond for a moment.
Sirius looked at the floor. “Don’t be,” he said. “I’m not.” He went out the door, leaving it open for Remus. Remus didn’t close it when he left.