stephanometra (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stephanometra) wrote2006-02-21 03:17 pm
stephanometra) wrote2006-02-21 03:17 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: "Before You Know It," Severus/Regulus, Chapter 1
Title: Before You Know It
Pairing: Severus/Regulus
Rating: R
Warnings: They're both young, but other than that, not really. Library defilement, I suppose.
Word Count: 2637
Disclaimer: So totally not mine, as should be abundantly clear.
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a WIP that I've been working on for-fucking-ever and am finally beginning to see an end to, so I figured I would go ahead and share. It has rather minor timeline issues due to the revelations of the Black Family Tree, and I attempted at first to fix them, but I put much more effort into this story than JKR ever puts into sucking at math, so I'm keeping it, issues and all. Hugs and roses to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
absinthe_lust and theamazingtish for their recent betas and to a sizable portion of my flist for their initial encouragement on the project – I love you guys.
~
Severus Snape sees Regulus Black for the first time at the ball Abraxas Malfoy throws for Slytherin House in honour of Lucius' last Christmas as a student at Hogwarts.
Severus has not attended many parties, but his mother insisted that he go to this one, saying that the Malfoys were worthy people to know, even when his father demanded that he stay home. "Have a wonderful time, and behave yourself," she had said, straightening his collar and kissing his cheek before pushing him into the Floo.
He tries not to think about the bruises she'll probably be wearing tomorrow at breakfast, a clumsy glamour not nearly enough to hide them from his eyes, for all that it might fool their neighbours.
Nor does he acknowledge how awkward he feels in his heavily starched robes, surrounded by people older, wiser, and richer than he. Slytherin he may be, but Severus knows himself common in this company.
Narcissa Black holds court in one corner of Malfoy Manor's grand ballroom, talking loudly about many things, but mostly gossip, and most of the gossip centres on how disgraceful it is that her cousin Sirius had refused to come to the party, preferring to hole himself up in Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion's cavernous townhouse rather than do his duty as a scion of an ancient House.
"But is it any wonder," she says, "what with him being Sorted into the wrong House and everything? Better, perhaps, that he's not here – who wants to see a Gryffindor in polite society, no matter his bloodline?" She laughs, tossing her flaxen head, looking for all the world like a coquette of twenty and not a child of fourteen, and delicately sips the wine she's taken from her sister – must have been Andromeda, he thinks, looking at the sixth-year Prefect sitting nearby with a bored expression on her face, because Bellatrix disappeared with Rodolphus as soon as she got here.
Everyone else laughs as well, as they have laughed at everything else she has said thus far that was even remotely humorous, and Severus joins in. She isn't particularly funny – Bella's wit is sharper, and she is much nicer to him besides – but it's enough that she's beautiful and talking poison about Black, whom he loathes.
A high-pitched voice rises over the gentle din of the party, drawing his attention to an unpleasant-looking woman in a black cap sitting halfway across the room. A boy stands near her, looking at Narcissa with a peculiar expression on his face.
Severus isn't as good at reading people as he is at reading books, so he can't decide whether the boy's look is one of envy or of disgust.
Maybe it's both.
~
The second time he sees Regulus is at King's Cross.
Severus watches Black and Potter as they make fools of themselves while waiting for Lupin and Pettigrew to arrive. He fervently hopes that their horseplay will end with them both unconscious on the tracks.
Mind the gap, indeed.
A younger boy, the boy from the party, walks towards them, labouring to drag his trunk and completely oblivious to the wretched house-elf behind him wringing its hands and offering to carry it.
Black and Potter, of course, are too busy wrestling even to notice him.
He calls out to Black, then approaches him and pulls on his sleeve when Black fails to respond.
Severus is just close enough to hear when Black tells the boy to "Bugger off, Regulus!"
The boy replies in a voice too soft to hear.
"I don't care what she said, idiot!" Black picks up his trunk then, signalling Potter to do the same with a jerk of his head. "Go find Cissy, I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear all about it!" He laughs unkindly as he and Potter move further down the track, leaving the boy alone with the muttering house-elf.
And suddenly it's Christmas again, and that same look is on Regulus' face.
The boy dismisses the elf and then moves to pick up his trunk again, looking up in surprise when he sees Severus holding the other end.
"Regulus Black, is it?" The boy nods and then opens his mouth to speak, but Severus is quicker. "Come, let us find your cousin. I am sure that she is anxious to see you."
Regulus sighs almost imperceptibly with relief and swallows hard before nodding again, and he doesn't see when Severus sneaks a quick glance backwards at Potter and Black.
~
The fact that it is sometimes entirely too early to smile has never once kept Potter and Black from doing it, Severus thinks, viciously stabbing at his eggs. Nor has the fact that Slytherins have much better things to do than stare at Gryffindors during breakfast ever made Severus turn his head.
He tears his eyes away for a moment and reaches for the bacon, then lifts his head, startled, when he feels someone looking at him for a change.
Regulus stares at him from the other end of the table, and Severus has no idea why.
He scowls in reply, and Regulus looks away, focusing instead on some distant point across the room. Severus follows the gaze, and somehow it fails to surprise him that he's once again looking at Potter and Black.
~
Severus often stays up late in the common room, scribbling in his mother's battered copy of Advanced Potion-Making and dreaming of finally being allowed to brew the concoctions therein or perhaps writing those eight inches of extra credit for Transfiguration. Occasionally he wonders if he'd do better if Professor Slughorn taught that as well as Potions, but most of the time he recognizes that he's simply bollocks at it and no amount of House favouritism could possibly help him. Thus, he studies.
Sometimes, a thoroughly dishevelled Regulus comes in after curfew, looking as if an enemy or a lover has accosted him – though it is most unlikely that a third-year is sneaking out for an after-hours shag – and then spends hours in a secluded corner of the common room, frantically scrawling letters or speaking with Narcissa in hushed tones. "Family business," they say whenever someone else tries to join their conversation, and then they disappear together, fleeing the prying eyes and pricked ears of their other House.
The other Slytherins whisper behind their backs about how Sirius is going to turn out just like that slag Andromeda, it's positively indecent and what a calamity this is for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, all the while dreaming about how their own insipid families will be able to move into the social void created by the Blacks' collapse.
Severus does an admirable job of acting as if the matter doesn't interest him at all.
~
It's very late when Severus finally makes it back to the common room; the fire has long since died down, the couches are empty, and a quick glance around the room tells him that he is alone.
He leans back against the wall and sinks to the floor, pressing his fingertips against his temples and resting his forehead on his knees. Slytherins don't weep, his mother has told him dozens of times – and Merlin knows it must be true because she never cries, no matter what he does – so it doesn't bother him that he appears to be doing exactly that.
Severus takes one deep breath, then another, and the murky, familiar taste of the dungeon air makes it a little easier to chase Black's jeering and that damnably pitying look of Lupin's from his head, but he still almost misses the soft footfalls coming from the boys' dormitory corridor.
Almost.
And when familiar grey eyes meet his over his drawn wand, Severus almostimmediately stifles the shot of panic in his chest.
"Snape."
He ignores the outstretched hand and rises to his feet unaided with the learned grace of a childhood spent being knocked down, then brushes off his robes, wand tucked safely back into his sleeve. "Black."
His tone is flat, dismissive, but the other boy nevertheless moves to a brocaded armchair in the centre of the room, looking at him expectantly, and Severus is uncomfortably aware of how insulting it would be to bugger off in the face of such an invitation.
Severus takes a seat on a couch, not quite far enough away from Regulus' chair to be considered rude. They do nothing but look at one another for a long moment.
"Why do you follow them around all the time?"
Severus blinks and says nothing at first, then narrows his eyes. "I fail to see how what I do is any business of yours."
Regulus looks down, bites his lip, fidgets. "He's still my brother," he says quietly as he raises his eyes, and Severus is once again discomfited from looking at those eyes, at the aristocratic features that by some cruel miracle belong to both foe and ally.
Severus covers his uneasiness by laughing, a harsh, low sound. "Are you asking me to play nice, Regulus?"
Another pause. "I don't know what I'm asking."
That much is abundantly obvious. "Then if you don't mind, I'm going to bed," Severus says, inclining his head not-quite-politely before getting up and starting down the hall to the fifth-years' dormitory.
He supposes that he oughtn't to be surprised when he feels a tentative hand on his arm, but he's utterly unprepared when Regulus pushes him against the wall and shoves his tongue into Severus' mouth.
A dispassionate, analytical corner of his mind casually observes that yes, this must be what snogging feels like, but Severus is entirely too busy trying not to drown in Regulus' desperate kisses to take note until Regulus wrenches away, eyes once again downcast, and murmurs "Goodnight, Severus," before retreating to the safety of the fourth-year dorm.
Left alone in the hallway, he wonders what the bloody hell just happened.
~
The Library has a peculiar distinction among all of the public areas of Hogwarts Castle: namely, that Severus Snape has never once had an altercation with Potter et al. while there. This pleases Severus, because he genuinely likes the library, and it's nice to have a place other than his own dormitory or common room where he can study or read in peace.
Especially since Regulus has of late taken to following him around like a shadow, and this unnerves him to a far greater degree than he would admit, should anyone notice and ask about it.
Thankfully, nobody will.
It's late November and a lovely fall of snow has covered the grounds, so there are only a few students scattered about the enormous room. Lupin – likely the only Gryffindor in fifth year who even knows the library's location other than that Evans bint – is alone in a corner, and Severus sneers at him before sitting down at his accustomed table and pulling out his book.
He gets ten whole minutes of blissfully uninterrupted solitude before Regulus slides into the seat across from him, and successfully ignores the quicksilver eyes attempting to bore through the instructions on how to brew blood-replenishing potion for ten more before setting down the book, glaring exasperatedly at the ceiling.
"What do you want, Regulus?"
"To talk to you."
All of the maybe half a dozen conversations they've had in the past three weeks – since...whatever it was that happened, happened – have begun this way.
"Your choice of venue leaves something to be desired, if it's a heart-to-heart you want," Severus says with a pointed look at Madam Pince, who is busy doing Merlin-knows-what with the card catalogue.
Without looking away, Regulus points his wand at the cabinet housing the catalogue. Suddenly an entire drawer clatters to the floor, cards flying every which-way.
The librarian expresses her chagrin in a very loud and most unladylike fashion but doesn't even glance in their direction. Severus' lips twist in what would be a smile, were he not trying very hard to act annoyed.
"You were saying?" Regulus does his best to look innocent and fails miserably.
Severus sighs resignedly, Regulus smirks, and thirty seconds later they're snogging in the stacks.
Regulus tastes like ink and spearmint and unasked questions, and Severus shudders, eyes fluttering closed, as he pushes the smaller boy into the bookshelf, hair falling into his face and Regulus' fingers digging into his shoulders.
Severus cradles Regulus' head and sucks on his tongue and forgets to breathe until he forces himself to pull away, opening his eyes to see Regulus staring at him again, lips swollen and hair mussed, and Severus smiles almost gently.
"Talk, you say?"
Regulus laughs quietly and shifts, pressing their bodies together in perfect alignment, and Severus instinctively rolls his hips in answer. They move then, a slow, sinuous grind, and Severus' vision begins to blur at the edges.
Regulus' eyes close once; Severus pulls his hair until they snap open again, and Regulus comes then with a soft, wordless cry, dampness spreading across the front of his exquisitely tailored trousers.
Severus follows seconds later, his world reduced to the grey eyes staring into his own and the steady pulsing of his cock, and his head falls forward to rest on the shelf over Regulus' shoulder. Neither moves for a few long moments.
Out of the corner of his eye, Severus sees Lupin walk past the end of the row, and he can't quite suppress a cruel smile.
~
Slytherin House is a difficult place for most people to keep a secret.
However, Severus generally knows far better how to hide things than the rest of his House knows how to find them, and everyone expects Regulus to act strangely since he's a Black and has the most irritating and disreputable blood traitor on the face of the earth for an elder brother.
Though some of the others undoubtedly notice the Black heir apparent spending an awful lot of time with a half-blood, they hold their tongues, and Severus doesn't care that it's only because they are afraid of his extensive repertoire of hexes.
He rather relishes it, actually, because he values their respect far more than he wants their approval.
Respect gets Severus and Regulus a compartment to themselves on the Hogwarts Express after term ends. Approval, on the other hand, would have gotten them crammed in with half a dozen other people pretending to like Severus in order to curry favour with Regulus' parents.
And while Severus knows that Regulus will spend his Christmas holidays attending parties and receiving expensive presents, as Severus occupies himself in finding creative ways to hide from his father's fists and counting the hours until spring term starts, he also knows that life has never been fair.
Actually, Severus – skinny, pale, ill-favoured, and saddled with a mother foolish enough to get knocked up by a violent, talentless Muggle and too weak to leave him for good – probably understands this better than anyone else of his acquaintance ever could, and certainly far better than the privileged, pureblooded twits among the Slytherins, whose oft-vaunted ambition usually entails little more than stupidly trudging in the paths their fathers and grandfathers have set before them.
When the train stops, Regulus says goodbye with a brush of his fingers on Severus' arm before going to greet a woman Severus recognizes as Mrs. Black. Kissing her hand, Regulus steps into a world of fêtes and intrigues and condescension, and he doesn't spare Severus a backward glance.
Severus does not belong to that world and has never wanted to.
That thought comforts him as his mother, dead-eyed and downtrodden as always, walks with him towards the platform's exit. "Only two weeks, love," she says, reaching for his hand a little before thinking the better of it and dropping her arm. "Be over before you know it."
Not bloody likely.
~
On to Chapter 2, if you dare.
Feedback is as always cherished.
Pairing: Severus/Regulus
Rating: R
Warnings: They're both young, but other than that, not really. Library defilement, I suppose.
Word Count: 2637
Disclaimer: So totally not mine, as should be abundantly clear.
Author's Note: This is the first chapter of a WIP that I've been working on for-fucking-ever and am finally beginning to see an end to, so I figured I would go ahead and share. It has rather minor timeline issues due to the revelations of the Black Family Tree, and I attempted at first to fix them, but I put much more effort into this story than JKR ever puts into sucking at math, so I'm keeping it, issues and all. Hugs and roses to
absinthe_lust and theamazingtish for their recent betas and to a sizable portion of my flist for their initial encouragement on the project – I love you guys.Severus Snape sees Regulus Black for the first time at the ball Abraxas Malfoy throws for Slytherin House in honour of Lucius' last Christmas as a student at Hogwarts.
Severus has not attended many parties, but his mother insisted that he go to this one, saying that the Malfoys were worthy people to know, even when his father demanded that he stay home. "Have a wonderful time, and behave yourself," she had said, straightening his collar and kissing his cheek before pushing him into the Floo.
He tries not to think about the bruises she'll probably be wearing tomorrow at breakfast, a clumsy glamour not nearly enough to hide them from his eyes, for all that it might fool their neighbours.
Nor does he acknowledge how awkward he feels in his heavily starched robes, surrounded by people older, wiser, and richer than he. Slytherin he may be, but Severus knows himself common in this company.
Narcissa Black holds court in one corner of Malfoy Manor's grand ballroom, talking loudly about many things, but mostly gossip, and most of the gossip centres on how disgraceful it is that her cousin Sirius had refused to come to the party, preferring to hole himself up in Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion's cavernous townhouse rather than do his duty as a scion of an ancient House.
"But is it any wonder," she says, "what with him being Sorted into the wrong House and everything? Better, perhaps, that he's not here – who wants to see a Gryffindor in polite society, no matter his bloodline?" She laughs, tossing her flaxen head, looking for all the world like a coquette of twenty and not a child of fourteen, and delicately sips the wine she's taken from her sister – must have been Andromeda, he thinks, looking at the sixth-year Prefect sitting nearby with a bored expression on her face, because Bellatrix disappeared with Rodolphus as soon as she got here.
Everyone else laughs as well, as they have laughed at everything else she has said thus far that was even remotely humorous, and Severus joins in. She isn't particularly funny – Bella's wit is sharper, and she is much nicer to him besides – but it's enough that she's beautiful and talking poison about Black, whom he loathes.
A high-pitched voice rises over the gentle din of the party, drawing his attention to an unpleasant-looking woman in a black cap sitting halfway across the room. A boy stands near her, looking at Narcissa with a peculiar expression on his face.
Severus isn't as good at reading people as he is at reading books, so he can't decide whether the boy's look is one of envy or of disgust.
Maybe it's both.
The second time he sees Regulus is at King's Cross.
Severus watches Black and Potter as they make fools of themselves while waiting for Lupin and Pettigrew to arrive. He fervently hopes that their horseplay will end with them both unconscious on the tracks.
Mind the gap, indeed.
A younger boy, the boy from the party, walks towards them, labouring to drag his trunk and completely oblivious to the wretched house-elf behind him wringing its hands and offering to carry it.
Black and Potter, of course, are too busy wrestling even to notice him.
He calls out to Black, then approaches him and pulls on his sleeve when Black fails to respond.
Severus is just close enough to hear when Black tells the boy to "Bugger off, Regulus!"
The boy replies in a voice too soft to hear.
"I don't care what she said, idiot!" Black picks up his trunk then, signalling Potter to do the same with a jerk of his head. "Go find Cissy, I'm sure she'd be delighted to hear all about it!" He laughs unkindly as he and Potter move further down the track, leaving the boy alone with the muttering house-elf.
And suddenly it's Christmas again, and that same look is on Regulus' face.
The boy dismisses the elf and then moves to pick up his trunk again, looking up in surprise when he sees Severus holding the other end.
"Regulus Black, is it?" The boy nods and then opens his mouth to speak, but Severus is quicker. "Come, let us find your cousin. I am sure that she is anxious to see you."
Regulus sighs almost imperceptibly with relief and swallows hard before nodding again, and he doesn't see when Severus sneaks a quick glance backwards at Potter and Black.
The fact that it is sometimes entirely too early to smile has never once kept Potter and Black from doing it, Severus thinks, viciously stabbing at his eggs. Nor has the fact that Slytherins have much better things to do than stare at Gryffindors during breakfast ever made Severus turn his head.
He tears his eyes away for a moment and reaches for the bacon, then lifts his head, startled, when he feels someone looking at him for a change.
Regulus stares at him from the other end of the table, and Severus has no idea why.
He scowls in reply, and Regulus looks away, focusing instead on some distant point across the room. Severus follows the gaze, and somehow it fails to surprise him that he's once again looking at Potter and Black.
Severus often stays up late in the common room, scribbling in his mother's battered copy of Advanced Potion-Making and dreaming of finally being allowed to brew the concoctions therein or perhaps writing those eight inches of extra credit for Transfiguration. Occasionally he wonders if he'd do better if Professor Slughorn taught that as well as Potions, but most of the time he recognizes that he's simply bollocks at it and no amount of House favouritism could possibly help him. Thus, he studies.
Sometimes, a thoroughly dishevelled Regulus comes in after curfew, looking as if an enemy or a lover has accosted him – though it is most unlikely that a third-year is sneaking out for an after-hours shag – and then spends hours in a secluded corner of the common room, frantically scrawling letters or speaking with Narcissa in hushed tones. "Family business," they say whenever someone else tries to join their conversation, and then they disappear together, fleeing the prying eyes and pricked ears of their other House.
The other Slytherins whisper behind their backs about how Sirius is going to turn out just like that slag Andromeda, it's positively indecent and what a calamity this is for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, all the while dreaming about how their own insipid families will be able to move into the social void created by the Blacks' collapse.
Severus does an admirable job of acting as if the matter doesn't interest him at all.
It's very late when Severus finally makes it back to the common room; the fire has long since died down, the couches are empty, and a quick glance around the room tells him that he is alone.
He leans back against the wall and sinks to the floor, pressing his fingertips against his temples and resting his forehead on his knees. Slytherins don't weep, his mother has told him dozens of times – and Merlin knows it must be true because she never cries, no matter what he does – so it doesn't bother him that he appears to be doing exactly that.
Severus takes one deep breath, then another, and the murky, familiar taste of the dungeon air makes it a little easier to chase Black's jeering and that damnably pitying look of Lupin's from his head, but he still almost misses the soft footfalls coming from the boys' dormitory corridor.
Almost.
And when familiar grey eyes meet his over his drawn wand, Severus almostimmediately stifles the shot of panic in his chest.
"Snape."
He ignores the outstretched hand and rises to his feet unaided with the learned grace of a childhood spent being knocked down, then brushes off his robes, wand tucked safely back into his sleeve. "Black."
His tone is flat, dismissive, but the other boy nevertheless moves to a brocaded armchair in the centre of the room, looking at him expectantly, and Severus is uncomfortably aware of how insulting it would be to bugger off in the face of such an invitation.
Severus takes a seat on a couch, not quite far enough away from Regulus' chair to be considered rude. They do nothing but look at one another for a long moment.
"Why do you follow them around all the time?"
Severus blinks and says nothing at first, then narrows his eyes. "I fail to see how what I do is any business of yours."
Regulus looks down, bites his lip, fidgets. "He's still my brother," he says quietly as he raises his eyes, and Severus is once again discomfited from looking at those eyes, at the aristocratic features that by some cruel miracle belong to both foe and ally.
Severus covers his uneasiness by laughing, a harsh, low sound. "Are you asking me to play nice, Regulus?"
Another pause. "I don't know what I'm asking."
That much is abundantly obvious. "Then if you don't mind, I'm going to bed," Severus says, inclining his head not-quite-politely before getting up and starting down the hall to the fifth-years' dormitory.
He supposes that he oughtn't to be surprised when he feels a tentative hand on his arm, but he's utterly unprepared when Regulus pushes him against the wall and shoves his tongue into Severus' mouth.
A dispassionate, analytical corner of his mind casually observes that yes, this must be what snogging feels like, but Severus is entirely too busy trying not to drown in Regulus' desperate kisses to take note until Regulus wrenches away, eyes once again downcast, and murmurs "Goodnight, Severus," before retreating to the safety of the fourth-year dorm.
Left alone in the hallway, he wonders what the bloody hell just happened.
The Library has a peculiar distinction among all of the public areas of Hogwarts Castle: namely, that Severus Snape has never once had an altercation with Potter et al. while there. This pleases Severus, because he genuinely likes the library, and it's nice to have a place other than his own dormitory or common room where he can study or read in peace.
Especially since Regulus has of late taken to following him around like a shadow, and this unnerves him to a far greater degree than he would admit, should anyone notice and ask about it.
Thankfully, nobody will.
It's late November and a lovely fall of snow has covered the grounds, so there are only a few students scattered about the enormous room. Lupin – likely the only Gryffindor in fifth year who even knows the library's location other than that Evans bint – is alone in a corner, and Severus sneers at him before sitting down at his accustomed table and pulling out his book.
He gets ten whole minutes of blissfully uninterrupted solitude before Regulus slides into the seat across from him, and successfully ignores the quicksilver eyes attempting to bore through the instructions on how to brew blood-replenishing potion for ten more before setting down the book, glaring exasperatedly at the ceiling.
"What do you want, Regulus?"
"To talk to you."
All of the maybe half a dozen conversations they've had in the past three weeks – since...whatever it was that happened, happened – have begun this way.
"Your choice of venue leaves something to be desired, if it's a heart-to-heart you want," Severus says with a pointed look at Madam Pince, who is busy doing Merlin-knows-what with the card catalogue.
Without looking away, Regulus points his wand at the cabinet housing the catalogue. Suddenly an entire drawer clatters to the floor, cards flying every which-way.
The librarian expresses her chagrin in a very loud and most unladylike fashion but doesn't even glance in their direction. Severus' lips twist in what would be a smile, were he not trying very hard to act annoyed.
"You were saying?" Regulus does his best to look innocent and fails miserably.
Severus sighs resignedly, Regulus smirks, and thirty seconds later they're snogging in the stacks.
Regulus tastes like ink and spearmint and unasked questions, and Severus shudders, eyes fluttering closed, as he pushes the smaller boy into the bookshelf, hair falling into his face and Regulus' fingers digging into his shoulders.
Severus cradles Regulus' head and sucks on his tongue and forgets to breathe until he forces himself to pull away, opening his eyes to see Regulus staring at him again, lips swollen and hair mussed, and Severus smiles almost gently.
"Talk, you say?"
Regulus laughs quietly and shifts, pressing their bodies together in perfect alignment, and Severus instinctively rolls his hips in answer. They move then, a slow, sinuous grind, and Severus' vision begins to blur at the edges.
Regulus' eyes close once; Severus pulls his hair until they snap open again, and Regulus comes then with a soft, wordless cry, dampness spreading across the front of his exquisitely tailored trousers.
Severus follows seconds later, his world reduced to the grey eyes staring into his own and the steady pulsing of his cock, and his head falls forward to rest on the shelf over Regulus' shoulder. Neither moves for a few long moments.
Out of the corner of his eye, Severus sees Lupin walk past the end of the row, and he can't quite suppress a cruel smile.
Slytherin House is a difficult place for most people to keep a secret.
However, Severus generally knows far better how to hide things than the rest of his House knows how to find them, and everyone expects Regulus to act strangely since he's a Black and has the most irritating and disreputable blood traitor on the face of the earth for an elder brother.
Though some of the others undoubtedly notice the Black heir apparent spending an awful lot of time with a half-blood, they hold their tongues, and Severus doesn't care that it's only because they are afraid of his extensive repertoire of hexes.
He rather relishes it, actually, because he values their respect far more than he wants their approval.
Respect gets Severus and Regulus a compartment to themselves on the Hogwarts Express after term ends. Approval, on the other hand, would have gotten them crammed in with half a dozen other people pretending to like Severus in order to curry favour with Regulus' parents.
And while Severus knows that Regulus will spend his Christmas holidays attending parties and receiving expensive presents, as Severus occupies himself in finding creative ways to hide from his father's fists and counting the hours until spring term starts, he also knows that life has never been fair.
Actually, Severus – skinny, pale, ill-favoured, and saddled with a mother foolish enough to get knocked up by a violent, talentless Muggle and too weak to leave him for good – probably understands this better than anyone else of his acquaintance ever could, and certainly far better than the privileged, pureblooded twits among the Slytherins, whose oft-vaunted ambition usually entails little more than stupidly trudging in the paths their fathers and grandfathers have set before them.
When the train stops, Regulus says goodbye with a brush of his fingers on Severus' arm before going to greet a woman Severus recognizes as Mrs. Black. Kissing her hand, Regulus steps into a world of fêtes and intrigues and condescension, and he doesn't spare Severus a backward glance.
Severus does not belong to that world and has never wanted to.
That thought comforts him as his mother, dead-eyed and downtrodden as always, walks with him towards the platform's exit. "Only two weeks, love," she says, reaching for his hand a little before thinking the better of it and dropping her arm. "Be over before you know it."
Not bloody likely.
On to Chapter 2, if you dare.
Feedback is as always cherished.