Kristmas Wish Fulfilled for: akatnamedeaster
From: smallbrownfrog

Title: Then Suddenly I See You
Characters/Pairings: Severus Snape/Sirius Black
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: frotting, object insertion, anal play
Other Warnings/Content: drug use
Word Count: 4,750
Summary/Description: Sirius sees Severus (and life) in a new way. Visions and smut ensue.
Author's Notes: Dear reader, I hope the plot/porn balance is not too tilted towards plot for your taste. it’s up to you whether you choose to read this as a missing canon scene or a fork-in-the-road AU. I think both are possible.



The leather jacket was the cause of it all. If there is blame or credit to be given out, place it squarely there.

Of course, it’s true that Sirius was already heartily sick of Order meetings. All they were was another chance for everybody to talk themselves hoarse without actually doing anything. Still, on another night, Sirius might have stayed in place at the table. On another night, he might have merely rolled his eyes when Moony and Frank started debating their theories for the fifth time and Caradoc went to find yet another parchment.

However, when Caradoc unshrank the storage box (which was supposed to be full of old scrolls and maps), it was clear that it had been mislabelled. Instead of old parchment, it contained some very overdue and very defaced library books, a torn quidditch robe, and a brown leather jacket of the type sold to teenagers who pretend to ride motorbikes. Sirius knew exactly what kind of leather jacket it was -- because it was his.

It was the jacket he had worn to annoy his father back before he even had a motorbike, back before he left home, back when annoying his parents was an art form. It had disappeared in one of his many moves over the last six months, when he was staying with this person and that, and he had thought it was lost forever.

There was not a moment of thought between seeing the jacket and picking it up, between picking it up and inhaling its rich leather smell. Then he was putting it on and surging out of the meeting, out of the house, out into the beautiful summer evening. He paused on the front steps for just long enough to pull the odd metal fasteners closed and to notice something bulky in the pockets. Probably old junk. He’d sort it out later. It took only a moment to call his motorcycle to him, and then he was roaring down the road looking for action. The wind sang in his ears and the engine growled in pure glee. Anything could happen now. He felt gloriously alive.

An hour later he skidded to a screeching halt, stopped cold by the picture splashed over half a wall. It showed the ghastly green skull-and-snake emblem that he was all too familiar with. He had his wand ready for a fight even as he dismounted. However, when he got closer it was clear that the picture was just muggle graffiti. At least, he doubted that He-Who-Thought-He-Was-A-Right-Tough-Bastard would have chosen to portray the snake’s eyes as little pink hearts, or added a fragrant cloud of purple smoke puffing out of its mouth.

A skinny-looking muggle girl was leaning against the wall, sharing a smoke with a big hulk of a man. “Door’s on the other side,” she told Sirius, gesturing around the corner.

Sirius wondered who she had mistaken him for, but that didn’t stop him from taking the route she had sketched in the air. Muggles were usually a bit of fun, and whatever it was, it had to be better than the meeting he had left.

The building seemed to have been some sort of commercial space, but its better days were clearly behind it. A sign by the entrance was missing half its letters, and the remains of a tattered awning hung over the door. He began to wonder if it was just an empty building and the girl had been having him on.

However, when Sirius pulled the door open, the noise hit him like a solid object. Now this was a party worthy of his leather jacket! It was everything his parents hated: mudbloods, dirt, chaos, music they wouldn’t have recognized as music.

Sirius made his way into the crowded party. The dilapidated space was mostly dark, lit only by occasional flashes of light, but other senses pushed roughly in where vision failed. Music screamed into his ears like a physical thing. The rooms smelled like sweat and dirt and cement. To somebody else, that might not have been an enticement to stay, but to Sirius it was.

So he sauntered on, looking for a drink or three. If he was lucky he’d find something to occupy his attention until he had to go home again. If not, there was a whole city out there just waiting to entertain him.

A bird groped him as he passed, or so he thought as her hand felt his arse. Then he saw the wild wobble in her step and realized she had leaned on him for balance. A drunken bird then. Well, he wasn’t going to turn down what lady luck gave him. One needed to honor the goddess after all, preferably in as physical a manner as possible.

Sirius reached out to steady her and smiled his most dazzling smile. He was already planning some intimate moments in a back room.

She didn’t look back. She didn’t smile. She just pulled slowly out of his grasp like she was pulling out of swamp mud. Her eyes stayed focused ahead of her, and he had the disconcerting feeling that she had barely seen him. She had the wanting look he expected, but it was aimed right past him.

Curious, Sirius followed her gaze to see what she was staring at. Who she was staring at.

There, in the rectangle of light formed by an open door, stood the object of her fixation. He didn't look like much, just a skinny kid, thin as a wire coat hanger under his black t-shirt. He was turned away from Sirius, deep in conversation with someone else who Sirius couldn't quite make out.

His interest would have ended then and there, but for two coincidences that froze him to the spot. First, the music stopped mid-song and mid-note. Second, an all too familiar voice slid into the brief, soundless opening: that kid was Severus Snivelly Snape.

Sirius kept staring as the music started up again. The bird wanted Snape? But she was beautiful! He must be misunderstanding something. It didn’t make sense. Yet there she was, getting up close with Severus Snape. She actually seemed to be pleading with him. Begging. Merlin, the bloody girl was draping herself over him as though she was part of his clothing.

Sirius closed his eyes, but it didn’t help. The image lingered on, not the image of the bird, but the image of Snape in the instant before Sirius knew who he was. He kept thinking about the desire in the girl’s eyes. Somehow the stable, dependable universe had tipped on its side and shaken everything loose. It gave him the oddest feeling, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

When he looked up again, Snape and the girl had disappeared behind a shut door. Suddenly Sirius didn’t want to be there anymore. He told himself it was a stupid party. Surely there were better adventures out there. He headed for the door in a snit. The music was too loud. Even the dense press of bodies seemed placed there just to annoy him and block his way.

Yet, if Sirius were being honest, he would have had to admit that his curiosity had been piqued. Moments later, when somebody yelled, “Raid! It’s the bloody Filth!” over the microphone, it wasn’t an exit he looked for. He looked for Snape.

Someone was screaming. A boy next to Sirius began saying, “Oh fuck,” over and over again. The tipsy bird from before was trying to push through the crowd in a clumsy, uncoordinated panic that was getting her nowhere. Across the room, several people were trying to open a window, but it seemed to be jammed.

There was no sign of Snape anywhere he looked, so Sirius pushed his way to the doorway he had last seen him at. The door was locked and closed, but it gave way easily to a quick spell. Sirius went running down a short corridor, glancing into empty storage rooms as he went.

Then Sirius was in the very last room, a small storage room at the end of the hall. There was Snape, halfway up a stack of boxes, wrenching at a little window high up the wall. The window was dirty and rusty and ugly. But more important than that, it clearly wouldn’t open.

Snape gave the window another frantic pull before gasping out, “Silencio!” The room went eerily quiet, though Sirius could still hear shouting in the distance. The silence was so strong that it was almost a physical presence. Sirius wanted to shake his head, as though that would dislodge the spell from his ears.

Snape didn’t pause even for a second. The instant the silence hit, he was aiming his wand at the window. It was clear from his contorted face that he was screaming spells with ever-growing intensity, until suddenly the window frame shuddered and silently exploded. Where there had been solid wood, metal, and glass, there was now a gaping hole just big enough for a body.

Snape grabbed the edge of the opening, then turned back to stare at Sirius. He had the intensity of a coiled whip, and for a second Sirius thought he was going to hex him. Instead, he used his wand to point first at Sirius, then at the window, before hoisting himself up and out.

Sirius had the oddest thought that Snape might be just the adventure he was looking for. He might even be fun. But even more important, he looked like a challenge, and Sirius Black never walked away from a challenge. He scrambled up the boxes and followed Severus out the gap in the wall.

Luck was with them and Sirius’ motorbike was mere steps away. Without a word between them they climbed onto the bike and were off. He could feel Snape pressed tight against him, arms holding on. If Sirius took some corners too fast, well you only get to live once. As for why there were so many corners, he took a mad, zigzagging, illogical route for the simple reason that he had no set destination and no desire for one.

Still, every trip ends up with a destination. When whim and fancy had taken them through half the boroughs in London, Sirius felt the need for a stretch. Clapham Common seemed as good a stopping point as any. The woods were a dark mystery in the moonlight, and Sirius was fairly sure he wasn’t supposed to drive through them. Of course this just made them more attractive.

When Sirius finally pulled over, he could hear Snape’s breath coming in tiny harsh gasps. Snape got off slowly, clutching onto the motorcycle as though he didn’t trust that it had really stopped. He was clearly trying to act casual, but couldn’t quite achieve it.

Then Snape started patting himself down. At first Sirius thought he was trying to look busy to cover his awkward breathing, but Snape was looking frantic now, turning the pockets of his tight black denims inside out, running his hands over his hips, feeling carefully over each skinny arm, reaching up under his shirt and desperately searching himself. Then, just as fast as the search had started -- it stopped.

Snape pulled out a leather pouch much too big to have been in his clothes. He stood looking down at the pouch, and Sirius could see the tension leaving his muscles. So it seemed like a good time to ask what the police had been looking for.

“Me,” said Snape, looking sly as a fox and twice as feral. “And this.” He held up the pouch. Then he looked up at Sirius with a smile that promised Yule and birthdays all rolled into one. “Want some candy, Black?”

Sirius thought he would be less astonished if Snape had a side career as a ballerina. “You’re selling drugs to muggles?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Sure enough, Snape’s smile evaporated. “Is that a problem?” Clearly, he expected Sirius to say yes.

Sirius was damned if he was going to do as expected, so he grinned and said, “Only if I don’t get a taste.”

Snape’s expression stayed cold, but he set the pouch on the motorbike seat and methodically set to work. A minute later he had achieved a cheerful little fag. It would have looked like a garden variety cigarette, if it weren’t for the flower petals and odd little sparkles mixed into the herbal shreds.

Taking drags off the same cigarette was oddly intimate. They stood inches apart in the semi-darkness. Of course their hands touched over and over. It was the rest of them that seemed to touch more often than strictly needed. Sirius would have put it down to the drug, but he was beginning to suspect that Severus had tried to con him with some garden variety cooking herb. There was nothing remotely drug-like about this experience.

It was simply the physical pleasure of attraction. Sirius didn’t know why he should be surprised by the feeling. Somehow it seemed as though he was seeing Severus for the first time. Maybe it was simply the clothes. After all, he had always seen Severus swathed in badly fitted robes. These muggle clothes were so form-fitting that he doubted that there was room to slip a spell between fabric and skin.

In any case, Sirius found himself enjoying the play of shadow and light over Severus’ lean form. Sometimes he was simply an inky blackness that blended into the tree shadows. At other times an arm or a leg would suddenly come into existence in a stray bit of moonlight.

Somehow passing the fag required leaning against the same tree, and then against each other. There was a moment when they just stood there, lip to lip, breathing each other in. Then they were kissing.

Kissing Severus was a delicious wrestling match of lips and tongue. Teeth nipped with just enough force to make him gasp, but not quite hard enough to make him pull back. At that point kissing became a full body experience. Lips and groins and hips all pressed into each other as they frotted.

Sirius could feel Severus’ erection pressed against him. He was sure Severus felt his. It was as though they were trying to climb right through their clothes and into each other. Sirius could feel his muscles tensing as he strained towards orgasm. Then he was coming, right there in his pants.

Yet, it was as though he hadn’t come at all. He could still feel the wave of pleasure mounting. Little shivers of excitement were running through his body. He swore he could feel actual sparks shooting down his spine. “Oh,” he thought, “the drug.” And then he scattered into an explosion of light.

He couldn’t find his body, yet he wasn’t frightened. He didn’t seem to have a body anymore. Or maybe his body and the universe were the same thing. Everywhere he looked there was great beauty and it was all part of him. Nebulas danced inside his heart. Comets chased each other through his thoughts. He was vast and contained multitudes.

Yes, he was a song sung by a million voices. Bodyless and nameless, he drifted on currents of song and light. He was happy for a long, long time.

Gradually he became aware of a little tickle in the back of his mind. It was a niggling thought that itched at him. It intruded on the music and made it hard to focus. He was sure he had left something behind. But what was it? And how could he have left something behind when he was a part of everything? Curious, he looked down an endless tunnel of light. There, far below him were two small figures lying on the ground. He thought he recognized them, and he went closer to investigate.

Severus. The man’s name was Severus. And that was his own self next to him on the ground. That self also had a name. Sirius. His name was Sirius. Something within him slipped. As quickly as it had begun, the joyful music ended. In its place was a growing roar as the entire universe fell and fell and fell. It was a sound like thundering water. Planets and comets came rushing along. The galaxies foamed like milk.

Then all of that vast tumultuous splendor was trying to fit into the tiny body he had left lying on the grass. It was like pouring a huge waterfall into a teacup. It couldn’t begin to fit. It overflowed and scattered in all directions till he was left alone and isolated in his own body again.

Sirius just lay there, his limbs too heavy to lift. Severus lay quietly by his side. All around them the trees rustled and talked to themselves.

Sirius wanted to share the beauty he had seen and that he could still sense all around him, in the whisper of the leaves, in Severus’ pale face. Yet he could feel important things, vital things, slipping out of his grasp. What he had felt was too big for words. All he had were trite little words like love and beauty, words that were too small to carry the meanings he felt inside.

Someone began running a hand through Sirius’ hair and he kept thinking how nice that felt. Slowly he realized that it was Severus’ hands that were carding his hair. He thought it was funny that the universe was using Severus’ hands to show him it loved him, but then why not? Severus was a part of the universe, too. And they were beautiful hands.

“I’m still not sure what happened,” said Sirius slowly.

Severus didn’t answer, but he looked back with a dreamy openness that transformed his sharp face, and his hand reached out to stroke Sirius’ cheek.

Sirius tried again. “No, that isn’t right. I do know. I just can’t find the words to...”

“Yes, exactly.” Severus smiled a soft, lazy smile, and his words drifted over in such a quiet voice that he didn’t even seem to be interrupting. “I don’t remember a word of what was said.”

“Said?” Sirius wondered what Severus could possibly mean. There had been no words to the star song, though every note had been beautiful and true.

“I keep trying to remember what was said. Mixing the hyssop and lavender in with a wooden stirring rod ought to have induced prophetic visions. It ought to have. But I never remember a proper prophecy. It’s all just images and feelings,” said Severus. “Maybe the magic only works for seers.”

“Didn’t you see the stars? The planets?” asked Sirius.

“Planets? No, there were no planets.” Severus bit absently at his thumb as he talked. “I was back at Hogwarts, in the Great Hall. Have you ever dreamed you were taking your N.E.W.Ts and it all went wrong? It was like that but worse. I’d been set the task of brewing a potion. Only there wasn’t anybody there to tell me what potion I was supposed to be brewing. So I kept getting it wrong. Over and over. There were no exam proctors. Instead, all the tables were covered with rows of little lead soldiers who stood there watching me.”

Sirius couldn’t help feeling that this vision was all wrong, but he tried to be comforting. “Lots of people have examination nightmares.”

“I kept adding things and trying different techniques. No matter what I tried I kept getting it wrong. And every time I got it wrong, a row of little toy soldiers fell over like dominoes. Only these soldiers had real faces. Some of them were people I’ve never met. Some were people I know well. But in the dream I knew them all. I saw you there.”

At this, Sirius moved even closer to Severus, needing to touch him. “It wasn’t real.” What was real was the faint echoes of song that he could still feel thrumming all around him. He ached to show Severus that he too was a part of that joy.

“No. It’s real. It’s why the Dark Lord recruited me. He read about the ancient sibyls and how they inhaled fumes to inspire prophecies. He wants a prophecy.” Then, more petulantly, Severus said, “I wish the smoke didn’t burn my throat so much. Why couldn’t the Dark Lord have asked for a tonic or a salve?”

A tiny, far away part of Sirius said, “This is your enemy speaking. Do not aid him,” but it was not a loud voice and it was easy to ignore. A much larger part of him knew that all of those harsh things might be true, but that they were a very tiny truth. The greater part of him was still warm with the vision of the universe. He could still feel the love and tenderness that radiated through all creation. So he asked, “Is there any reason it couldn’t be a tonic? Godric knows, you’re brilliant at potions.”

Severus’ entire face lit up. “Yes, there’s no reason I can’t make it a drink. Salazar! That’s why there was a drinking glass in the vision! Parchment! I need parchment! I should write down everything I saw: all the ingredients and equipment.”

“Sirius struggled into a sitting position. “I might have something to write with. Merlin knows I ought to. I seem to have half the rubbish in England stuffed into this jacket.” It took more thought than usual to undo the jacket’s muggle fastenings, but he managed to take it off and began shaking out the pockets.

They contained, as he had suspected, half the rubbish in England: a pocket knife, two muggle pens, a chrome cigarette lighter that had “Ronson” engraved onto it, a much-folded magazine advert for “Motorbike Gear You Must Own,” a tiny bottle of almond massage oil, and a green beaded necklace.

Surprisingly, Severus knew how to use the muggle pens. He confiscated the magazine advert and began scribbling in all the white spaces he could find. “Brass stirring rod. Hibiscus flowers. Moonwort. Lavender….”

As Severus muttered and scribbled, Sirius looked over the things he had had in his pockets. Most were nothing special, but the necklace caught his eye. He would recognize those beads anywhere. As a child he had coveted those beads. As a teen he had simply taken them.

They were green ceramic with a fine netting of silver lines. When he was a small boy he had been fascinated by the way the silver lines seemed to dance and shift in the light.
and by the smooth weight of the beads, cool on even the hottest of summer days. When mother dressed up for parties she sometimes allowed him to fetch them from her jewelry box and help her with the clasp.

Severus’ rising voice pulled him out of his reverie. “Was the other stirring rod ash or yew? And what were those dried yellow leaves?”

Sirius tried once more. “It doesn’t need to be so complicated.”

“Of course, you’d think it’s simple.”

Severus’ tone was wry, and Sirius heard the unspoken thought, “...because you’re a Gryffindor.” Normally, he knew he’d take offense, but now even he could hear the good humor in Severus’ voice. It reminded Sirius of the way he used to talk with James late at night, the dormitory quiet around them as sleep drifted down. It was the lazy ribbing between good friends.

“No, really, it is simple. You’ve already made something beautiful. It took me to places I’ve never been. Sharing what you’ve made could end the war. It showed me… It showed me that we’re all part of each other, a whole universe of love. And you and I, we’re two fingers on one hand. I was meant to meet you. We’re all one being.”

“Great Merlin! You sound like my divination teacher. Always going on about The Infinite. I suppose I could share this version though. Maybe use it to make an infusion and see if the Hogshead would be willing to serve it. That is a good idea. If I sold it as a drink, yes a tonic, that’s it, more people would be willing to try it. All that cosmic mumbo jumbo, though. It’s just not useful.”

Sirius didn’t completely quit listening, but he reached deep inside himself searching for a way to make Severus feel the joy that was still humming all around them. He pondered his own feelings of warmth and tenderness, the way he wanted to embrace the world, and then tenderly fuck it.

Yes, that was how he could talk to Severus. He might not be able to reach him with mere words, but words were a still a young magic, not long practiced by muggles or wizards. Before words were ever spoken, people had magic: the deep mysteries of flesh, blood, and bone.

So he turned his attention to what was real: the things beyond words, the warmth where their bodies met, the hard ridge of Severus’ hip, and -- only slightly less hard -- the pressure of Severus’ cock. He gazed fondly at Severus, with his soot and snow complexion. Just looking at Severus’s face gave him sappy feelings.

The first step would be to get them both out of their sticky denims, and Severus cooperated with that well enough. Yet he proved oddly reluctant to take off his shirt, saying he was cold. Sirius sensed the issue was something else, but he cast a wobbly heating charm and then wrapped Severus in his own leather jacket, carefully tucking the folded-up advert into one pocket.

Then Sirius took a moment just to look. Sirius smiled as he looked at the twin swells of Severus’ arse. So Severus did have some curves. He wondered if Severus had shown anyone else those charms.

Slowly, meditatively, Sirius put his mouth to one buttock and licked a broad stripe over its pale rise. Then his hands joined the game, massaging each arse cheek and rubbing over the pink opening. With each motion, he tried to tell Severus that he was loved by the universe. Soon Sirius was hunting out all the wonderful nerve endings just inside and making a come-hither motion deeper in.

However, just as Severus began to push back, he remembered the beaded necklace. It was too perfect an idea to ignore. So he reluctantly stilled his fingers and pulled out. It was the work of a moment to knot one end of the necklace into a reasonable handle. The beautiful ceramic balls were smooth, slippery, and almost chilly, just as he remembered them. The oil made them even slipperier.

Severus made a beautiful noise as Sirius worked the first bead in and pushed back in earnest. It was clear that slow was not his speed of choice. However, Sirius continued at his unhurried pace, stopping occasionally to taste Severus and explore all the salty contours of his skin.

Finally, Severus became impatient and took matters into his own hands. He reached down and began stroking his own cock. Sirius just let him touch himself, and continued to play with his arse. Or at least that’s all Sirius did until Severus began to come. Then he began to pull the necklace strand out one slow bead at a time. Sirius watched the sensitive ring of muscle hug each bead as it passed through. He could hear Severus gasping, but even better he could see his muscles clench as he came and then came again.

Then Severus had his mouth on Sirius, and his focus was on the wonderful feeling in his groin and how it seemed to be expanding to fill his whole body. It was only moments before he fell into a rush of pleasure so intense he could only speak nonsense syllables.

As they lay there in the loose-limbed afterglow, Severus’ voice came out of the night next to him. “You were right. This is more than just a drug. The toy soldier with your face, I cared about him.” Then, after a long pause. “Do you think we’ll remember this tomorrow? Will we remember how we feel about each other?”

Sirius didn’t know the answer, but he heard the wistful tone in Severus’ voice. It was not a promise Sirius could make, but he made it anyway. “Yes, we’ll remember.” He hoped it was true.