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drachenminaTitle: Freedom
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drachenmina
Word Count: 100 x 12
Rating: NC17
Warnings: None
Written for Sirius 100 Challenge#5: Vindication
Characters: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Disclaimer: Not mine
AN: If you're on my flist on IJ or watching Sirius100, you've already seen this - but a kind reviewer (thank you, Krabat!) suggested I x-post to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
12am_nosh, so here it is again! ;D
Sirius stands before the Wizengamot and wonders if anyone would notice him performing a quick drying charm on his palms. His mouth now, no charms needed there; that’s dry as a bone, no pun intended. Stupid, being so nervous. He’s not on trial; he’s here to be formally exonerated.
He’s grateful he hasn’t had to sit in the chair; he’s sure it remembers him from last time and would clap the chains on in a heartbeat.
The Minister’s speaking: “Mr Black, you are free to go, with our apologies.”
Sirius almost laughs at that. Free? No, he’ll never be free.
………………………………………….
Sirius exits the courtroom in something of a daze. Where to, now? Moony’s dead, and Harry’s a man now and doesn’t need him any more, if he ever really did. Sirius has the house, of course – a mildewed, crumbling old pile stuffed full of curses and inhabited by a servant who hates him and the shades of an evil mother and a misunderstood brother who turned out to be far more of a hero than Sirius ever was.
All Sirius managed to do in two wars was to kill half his friends and like a fool, outlive all the rest.
………………………………………
Of all the faces from his schooldays Sirius might have hoped to see again, Severus Snape’s isn’t one of them, so it’s sod’s law that that’s who he bumps into in the atrium of the Ministry.
“Morning, Snivelly. Here for your Order of Merlin?” he asks, just to be polite.
Snape looks at him the way he always does, like he’d like to dissect him or something, and it’s almost comforting in its familiarity.
“I have informed the Minister that I have no wish to be honoured for the killing of my oldest friend.”
“Oh.” Sirius shrugs. “Fancy a drink, then?”
…………………………………………..
Sirius is feeling a lot more cheerful now, because quite clearly the whole world’s gone mad, as there is simply no other possible explanation for the fact that he’s sitting in a pub drinking beer with Snivellus Snape. Granted, Snape hasn’t got any friends to drink with any more than Sirius has, but he must be used to that by now.
“So what are you planning to do, now you’re a hero, Sniv?”
“Don’t call me that, mutt.”
“Sorry. Snape.”
“Right now I plan to get you drunk and then bugger you senseless.”
“Well, I like the getting drunk part.”
……………………………………………..
Sirius isn’t sure how many pints they’ve had, but he’s damned if he’s going to stop drinking before Snivelly. Snivellus. Sneverus. Whatever.
“What?” he asks, feeling like he’s missed something.
“I was just suggesting, Black, that we take this elsewhere.”
This appears to be a bottle of whiskey. Sirius wonders who’s paying for it, and if it’s him.
“Right, Snapey, lead on!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Touchy about names, aren’t you? S’not like Sneverus Snape is much better.”
“Whereas Black sounds so distinguished.”
“Say what you like about me, Snape, but Regulus was a fucking hero.”
“Yes, Black, he was.”
……………………………………………
It takes them a while to get to Grimmauld Place as Sirius insists on getting some chips to soak up the alcohol. Snape calls him a lightweight but he still eats his share, Sirius notices. “You’ve got ketchup there – here, I’ll get it.”
Sirius wipes the corner of Snape’s mouth with his thumb. Snape grabs the hand and slowly licks the thumb clean.
“Were you buggering my baby brother?” Sirius asks, curious.
“Yes. You and the werewolf?”
Sirius snorts with laughter. “Moony and me? Sorry, Sniv, straight as a die, both of us.” But he doesn’t pull his hand away.
………………………………………………
They’re barely inside the front door when Snape makes his move with an unwonted lack of subtlety, biting Sirius’ neck and tearing at his clothes. Sirius isn’t about to be outdone by Snape at anything, even buggery, so he bites back and shoves his hands down Snape’s trousers. Snape shudders and gasps.
“When was the last time you got any, Snape?”
“Longer ago than I care to remember.”
“Yeah? I remember my last time. Blond bint, Hufflepuff, in her parents’ summerhouse, just before everything went arse-up and I ended up in Azkaban. Fourteen fucking years.”
“Think you can remember how?”
……………………………………………
Sirius remembers very well how, it’s like riding a broomstick, something you don’t tend to forget, but the fact remains that Snape isn’t like anyone he’s ever fucked before, and not just because he’s an ugly git. Although straight as a die might have been a bit wide of the mark, what Sirius got up to with Remus could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as fucking.
“So, Sniv, you going to be the girl?” he asks, with an optimism his experience of Snape has done nothing to justify.
“Snape. And no, Black, I really think not.”
……………………………………………….
On hands and knees in the hallway, his bare arse pointing towards the wall where, thankfully, his mother’s portrait no longer hangs (although on the other hand, he finds the thought of her watching the last scion of the most noble and ancient house of Black being buggered by a half-blood strangely enticing) Sirius is grateful that no jokes have as yet been made about doing it doggy-style.
Snape breaks off from rimming him to hiss, “A bit of a come-down for you, isn’t this, Black? Bottoming for Snivellus?”
“It’s Snape, actually,” Sirius tells him, and laughs in genuine merriment.
………………………………………………….
Five minutes later, Sirius has ample cause to reflect that any aspersions he cast on the size of Snape’s manhood while they were at school were inaccurate to the point of absurdity. The pain of Snape’s cock breaching him cuts through the fog of alcohol like a knife through warm intestines and Sirius cries out.
“Fuck!”
Mercifully, Snape stills, and a hand rubs his back soothingly. Sirius wonders who’s there with them because Snape certainly wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about how he feels.
“Think – think you can move now,” he gasps, when it’s gone on embarrassingly long.
Snape does.
……………………………………………………….
Just as Sirius is beginning to wonder what, if anything, he’s supposed to get out of this, Snape gets the angle right. Sirius cries out again and is unreasonably pissed off when Snape pauses.
“Fuck it, Snape, don’t stop!”
There’s the merest whisper of a laugh, and Snape shifts his weight and brings a hand round to Sirius’ cock. Then he does that again and Sirius feels like he’s flying, back on his motorbike in the days of the Marauders when they ruled the world and nothing bad was ever really going to happen to them.
Almost weeping, he comes.
……………………………………………………….
Snape’s not done yet and he starts thrusting – truly, madly, deeply, Sirius thinks with a laugh. Like an animal. Like a man, not the vicious cold-blooded statue he ordinarily seems to be. When Snape finally comes, Sirius feels warmth flood through him.
Lying on the floor afterwards, his arse sore and his knees bloody killing him, his arms round Snivellus – no, Severus – Snape, Sirius wonders why he feels like a door has opened. He’s not out of prison yet, but he thinks maybe he will be, soon.
“Always knew you were a bloody poofter,” he tells Snape, and kisses him.
fin.
Author:
drachenminaWord Count: 100 x 12
Rating: NC17
Warnings: None
Written for Sirius 100 Challenge#5: Vindication
Characters: Sirius Black/Severus Snape
Disclaimer: Not mine
AN: If you're on my flist on IJ or watching Sirius100, you've already seen this - but a kind reviewer (thank you, Krabat!) suggested I x-post to
12am_nosh, so here it is again! ;DSirius stands before the Wizengamot and wonders if anyone would notice him performing a quick drying charm on his palms. His mouth now, no charms needed there; that’s dry as a bone, no pun intended. Stupid, being so nervous. He’s not on trial; he’s here to be formally exonerated.
He’s grateful he hasn’t had to sit in the chair; he’s sure it remembers him from last time and would clap the chains on in a heartbeat.
The Minister’s speaking: “Mr Black, you are free to go, with our apologies.”
Sirius almost laughs at that. Free? No, he’ll never be free.
………………………………………….
Sirius exits the courtroom in something of a daze. Where to, now? Moony’s dead, and Harry’s a man now and doesn’t need him any more, if he ever really did. Sirius has the house, of course – a mildewed, crumbling old pile stuffed full of curses and inhabited by a servant who hates him and the shades of an evil mother and a misunderstood brother who turned out to be far more of a hero than Sirius ever was.
All Sirius managed to do in two wars was to kill half his friends and like a fool, outlive all the rest.
………………………………………
Of all the faces from his schooldays Sirius might have hoped to see again, Severus Snape’s isn’t one of them, so it’s sod’s law that that’s who he bumps into in the atrium of the Ministry.
“Morning, Snivelly. Here for your Order of Merlin?” he asks, just to be polite.
Snape looks at him the way he always does, like he’d like to dissect him or something, and it’s almost comforting in its familiarity.
“I have informed the Minister that I have no wish to be honoured for the killing of my oldest friend.”
“Oh.” Sirius shrugs. “Fancy a drink, then?”
…………………………………………..
Sirius is feeling a lot more cheerful now, because quite clearly the whole world’s gone mad, as there is simply no other possible explanation for the fact that he’s sitting in a pub drinking beer with Snivellus Snape. Granted, Snape hasn’t got any friends to drink with any more than Sirius has, but he must be used to that by now.
“So what are you planning to do, now you’re a hero, Sniv?”
“Don’t call me that, mutt.”
“Sorry. Snape.”
“Right now I plan to get you drunk and then bugger you senseless.”
“Well, I like the getting drunk part.”
……………………………………………..
Sirius isn’t sure how many pints they’ve had, but he’s damned if he’s going to stop drinking before Snivelly. Snivellus. Sneverus. Whatever.
“What?” he asks, feeling like he’s missed something.
“I was just suggesting, Black, that we take this elsewhere.”
This appears to be a bottle of whiskey. Sirius wonders who’s paying for it, and if it’s him.
“Right, Snapey, lead on!”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Touchy about names, aren’t you? S’not like Sneverus Snape is much better.”
“Whereas Black sounds so distinguished.”
“Say what you like about me, Snape, but Regulus was a fucking hero.”
“Yes, Black, he was.”
……………………………………………
It takes them a while to get to Grimmauld Place as Sirius insists on getting some chips to soak up the alcohol. Snape calls him a lightweight but he still eats his share, Sirius notices. “You’ve got ketchup there – here, I’ll get it.”
Sirius wipes the corner of Snape’s mouth with his thumb. Snape grabs the hand and slowly licks the thumb clean.
“Were you buggering my baby brother?” Sirius asks, curious.
“Yes. You and the werewolf?”
Sirius snorts with laughter. “Moony and me? Sorry, Sniv, straight as a die, both of us.” But he doesn’t pull his hand away.
………………………………………………
They’re barely inside the front door when Snape makes his move with an unwonted lack of subtlety, biting Sirius’ neck and tearing at his clothes. Sirius isn’t about to be outdone by Snape at anything, even buggery, so he bites back and shoves his hands down Snape’s trousers. Snape shudders and gasps.
“When was the last time you got any, Snape?”
“Longer ago than I care to remember.”
“Yeah? I remember my last time. Blond bint, Hufflepuff, in her parents’ summerhouse, just before everything went arse-up and I ended up in Azkaban. Fourteen fucking years.”
“Think you can remember how?”
……………………………………………
Sirius remembers very well how, it’s like riding a broomstick, something you don’t tend to forget, but the fact remains that Snape isn’t like anyone he’s ever fucked before, and not just because he’s an ugly git. Although straight as a die might have been a bit wide of the mark, what Sirius got up to with Remus could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be described as fucking.
“So, Sniv, you going to be the girl?” he asks, with an optimism his experience of Snape has done nothing to justify.
“Snape. And no, Black, I really think not.”
……………………………………………….
On hands and knees in the hallway, his bare arse pointing towards the wall where, thankfully, his mother’s portrait no longer hangs (although on the other hand, he finds the thought of her watching the last scion of the most noble and ancient house of Black being buggered by a half-blood strangely enticing) Sirius is grateful that no jokes have as yet been made about doing it doggy-style.
Snape breaks off from rimming him to hiss, “A bit of a come-down for you, isn’t this, Black? Bottoming for Snivellus?”
“It’s Snape, actually,” Sirius tells him, and laughs in genuine merriment.
………………………………………………….
Five minutes later, Sirius has ample cause to reflect that any aspersions he cast on the size of Snape’s manhood while they were at school were inaccurate to the point of absurdity. The pain of Snape’s cock breaching him cuts through the fog of alcohol like a knife through warm intestines and Sirius cries out.
“Fuck!”
Mercifully, Snape stills, and a hand rubs his back soothingly. Sirius wonders who’s there with them because Snape certainly wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about how he feels.
“Think – think you can move now,” he gasps, when it’s gone on embarrassingly long.
Snape does.
……………………………………………………….
Just as Sirius is beginning to wonder what, if anything, he’s supposed to get out of this, Snape gets the angle right. Sirius cries out again and is unreasonably pissed off when Snape pauses.
“Fuck it, Snape, don’t stop!”
There’s the merest whisper of a laugh, and Snape shifts his weight and brings a hand round to Sirius’ cock. Then he does that again and Sirius feels like he’s flying, back on his motorbike in the days of the Marauders when they ruled the world and nothing bad was ever really going to happen to them.
Almost weeping, he comes.
……………………………………………………….
Snape’s not done yet and he starts thrusting – truly, madly, deeply, Sirius thinks with a laugh. Like an animal. Like a man, not the vicious cold-blooded statue he ordinarily seems to be. When Snape finally comes, Sirius feels warmth flood through him.
Lying on the floor afterwards, his arse sore and his knees bloody killing him, his arms round Snivellus – no, Severus – Snape, Sirius wonders why he feels like a door has opened. He’s not out of prison yet, but he thinks maybe he will be, soon.
“Always knew you were a bloody poofter,” he tells Snape, and kisses him.
fin.
