| Current mood: |  gloomy |
Hello Again Severus....
Sirius sat near the window in his small study. Well, it was small by Snape Manor standards. It was still a ten by fifteen meter room filled with bookshelves, a desk, a fireplace, comfortable seating, and a stereo system of considerable size and power. He was under a laprobe, reading from a muggle book and glancing out of the window every now and again. It was dark outside, but his vision was a bit better than most. The chiming of the clock over the fireplace drew his attention to it and the time. Six thirty PM. Severus was by his own strict schedule, late. It was Friday night, and they had not spoken, mentally or otherwise, since dinner the Saturday before, the bloody fight not withstanding. He sighed, and recrossing his legs, continued reading as a House Elf arrived with a covered silver tray containing supper. "Leave it on the table," he said in a quiet tone, the then turned another page, and continued reading.
Severus had planned on not coming back over the weekend and had even started writing the letter to the Snape's House Elves to give his instructions with regards to... well, everything, when he had changed his mind at the last minute, and headed off back home as fast as he could, secure- or almost- in the knowledge that he could always excuse himself back to Hogwarts as being 'needed' should he have the need to himself. He arrived, rushed, flushed, and on edge. Late. Damn. He hoped it wasn't too noticeable, but then why bother? It wasn't as if anyone could reprimand him, or that he was supposed to arrive on time either. He saw the House Elves were already waiting for him. He started to discuss the things he 'needed' to with them.
Sirius paused in his reading when the notice came via the Ouroboros that Severus has returned to the Manor. His gut initially tightened. Nerves, just nerves, he told himself. Welcome Home. he sent simply. No honorific, no title, just a polite acknowledgement. He tried to resume reading, but found his concentration, even for erotic smut spoiled, and with a sigh, slammed the book shut. After collecting his cane from the arm of his chair made his way to the small table to inspect the offering of the evening meal.
Good evening, Sirius, was the response, measured, careful tones, betraying no emotion whatsoever. Well. That answered one question at least. He finished dealing with the House Elves, and started slowly taking off his overcloak, mentally searching the house to see where Sirius was right now, concentrating on his presence and focussing on its location. He eventually disrobed and walked into the Main Hallway. Thought a minute. Exactly what did you say in these circumstances? Have the House Elves reated you adequately? he settled for, the most neutral, unemotional, diplomatic thing he could think of.
Sirius paused before taking a bite of the roast. It was fair, not seasoned like he prefered it, but what was the point? I live. he said simply. The outer wounds were nearly healed but the mental would take much longer. You can either come see for yourself, or inquire of them. he added, then continued eating. He glared at the flagon of spiced and warmed cider, willing it will all of his being to become Mead. It didn't of course, and snorting, he looked back to his meal and resumed eating.
Certain things were sacred even to Severus. Not many, admittedly, but he valued privacy highly- which was exactly why the lycanthrope's invited intrusion had hurt him so deeply. However, he would have to be under extreme duress to invade what he had made, essentially, as his partner's sanctum sanctorum. He found the location just as the- admittedly not very enthusiastic- invitation came through, and was relieved, though he tried to hide it. I shall be up shortly, he replied, already walking, mulling things over as he went. He paused at the door, knocked, and opened it without waiting further- but slowly.
Sirius was not in the bedroom, the bed was made up, a magnificent four-post set in black and burgundy, accented in gold. The entire suite was decorated in the same scheme from curtains to rugs. A flickering of firelight and the sound of silver flatware on silver plates could be heard coming from the study. Utensils were set down, and a chair scraped back. A moment later, Sirius slowly appeared dressed in a heavy black velour robe, and leaning heavily on a cane topped with a silver handle for easy gripping and support. His hair was swept back into a soft ponytail, held in place with a silver clasp, and he was overdue for a shave, by a day or so. Bits of grey showed in his stubble. He looked across the room at Severus with pale and cautious eyes. Waiting. "Good evening Severus." he said softly with the slightest of nods.
Severus entered gently, and stood y the door. He echoed the gesture, demurring slightly, eyes closing as he bowed his head. "Have I disturbed your eating?" he asked, looking up, still very much dancing about on tiptoes- even if he tried to pass it off as gliding.
Sirius glanced from Severus to the tray, then back to Severus. "It's swill. I prefer my own." he said disdainfully, then inclined his head toward the chairs before the fireplace, "You don't mind if we sit and talk, do you? Standing is not something I do a lot of..." he said, then without waiting for a response, turned and walked to one of the overstuffed chairs and settled into it. Knife twisted, one quarter turn.
"But of course," came the light reply, but he paused, before he walked over, too pains about drawing the other chair out noiselessly, and seated himself with all the care one would use when handling a porcelain doll. Folded his hands in his lap, looked up, blinking slowly. "House Elves have no imagination. If it is so unpalatable I am sure we could find someone to prepare for you- under your supervision," he said, before mentally kicking himself. Oh yes another person under Sirius' supervision what a good idea. His face remained inscrutable.
Something clouded over Sirius' pale eyes for just a second, he wanted nothing more than to be able to cook for himself and find the calm and cathartic relief it gave him. So set in his ways of eating his own cooking, he had only eaten the barest minimum to maintain survival. In just a week's time he already looked a shade thinner along the jaw line. "I don't care to supervise anyone Severus. That is your job." he said, then sighed, looking into the fire as it made a particularly loud "pop". "How was your week?" he asked, changing the subject.
Severus tilted his head to one side almost imperceptibly, taking the jibe, and swallowing it down. He didn't comment. He smoothed his collar a little, feeling it chafe slightly, before looking up yet again. "My week was thankfully uneventful. Though I doubt there is anything in it as would interest you." A small, unfelt half-smile.
Sirius shrugged. "I haven't left these rooms since I regained consciousness, so any news would be new to me." he said quietly, still staring into the fire, then slowly he looked back over at Severus. "Oh let's just screw the small talk, I am not in the mood..." he said in a tone that was almost a whine and letting go of the arms of his chair, he covered his face with his hands and let out a long, shuddering breath.
Severus was not a demonstrative person. Far from it. It was hard enough extracting anything like his mood from him other than various shades of 'annoyed' 'aggravated' and 'pessimistic'. And so this was... always excruciatingly painful for him. He... didn't quite know what to do in these kinds of situations, and his immediate response to anything he did not know or did not understand and threatened him in the slightest- was to lash out. He didn't quite manage to curb the ire in his voice, even if he sullenly regretted it as soon as it was spoken. "Well what then?" he demanded, eyes flashing slightly somewhere in their depths. He made up for not biting his lip with grinding his teeth.
Sirius froze. He remained as he was, head in his hands, and if he was waiting, hoping, and praying for a kind word, a bit of sympathy, a bloody apology... Right. Severus Snape was going to get on his knee and apologise for nearly strangling and poisoning him to death... When Hell needed snow plows. He never really expected it to come anyway, but it hurt all the more when it didn't. He sniffed. I will not cry! I will NOT cry! Godammit! he swore vehemently to himself, and held his breath and bit his lower lip until he was forced to draw in deep lungfuls. "Nothing. Nothing at all Severus." he muttered. Another long shuddering breath in and out, his fingers were wet, but his face was still hidden. "I want my wand back." he said after a long pause, then pushed himself from the chair and with a quick swipe, gripped his cane and walked to the hearth,
Severus stayed where he was, not trusting himself to do anything right now. He wasn't to be trusted. Especially-- and when Sirius was still... hurt... Breathing was a little difficult but he tried to control it consciously so the shift wouldn't be audible. Tense? You could say that. All his fault as per bloody usual. He closed his eyes to say the next, not looking at him as he replied, quietly, "I'm... afraid I do not think that a good idea, Sirius."
Rage. Hate. Spite. All the old favorites came rising back to the surface, and away went any semblence of the man he had become since his name had been cleared and freedom returned.. He free hand clenched at his side, and suddenly it was sweeping across the mantle, taking everything there to the floor with a horrendous series of crashes and exploding glass. The sound he made was feral as he turned around and glared at Severus. How he had looked on the cover of the Daily Prophet those many years ago was nothing to the murderous and unhinged look on his face now. He moved lamely to walk past Severus, growling under his breath, "Pity for us all James was fast on his feet...." he hissed, then moved as quick as he could to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind him.
Severus stayed in his seat. But only just. The low, constant sound coming from his chest overrode any possible speech, keeping still through sheer effort of will. If he got up now, he would go in there and he would not be responsible for his actions in the specific sense. If he moved, he was likely to try and kill or be killed by either of the two men. Red mist was fuzzing his vision but he wasn't going to go there. No he wasn't. No matter how low Sirius hit. He bared his teeth, fingers digging deep into the armrest. Maybe it would have saved us all a lot of trouble, he hissed. That way you and the Werewolf would be happy- and who knows? Maybe the Famous Harry Potter would still have had a father to look up to rather than the poor excuse for a rolemodel you provide... He shook his head, trying to clear it. "We haven't got anywhere have we," he rumbled.
"How many years, and all we ever return to..." Was that. And the myriad of other things that would have said this- whatever it was- was impossible. How he hated proving people right. "THAT WAY MAYBE YOU COULD JUST BE WITH HIM SEEING AS HE LOVES YOU!" Frustration got too much, and he leaped up, but didn't head towards the bathroom, going instead out the door not breaking anything though it almost killed him, walking and walking with no purpose in mind other than to walk until he reached the end of the world or something else first.
He was shaking he was so mad, mind clouded, Hell bent on destruction. He was turning around and around looking for something to break, something to throw, something to cut with, but his legs gave out and with a hard bump against a cabinet, he crumpled to the floor. He was about to cry out in the rage of an injured and trapped animal when Severus' retorts began. He listened to none of it, wouldn't, but the part about Harry, and his being a poor substitute was heard anyway and hit home just like his barb had. He went numb, stunned, then the verbal shout about Remus. Remus loved him? Well of course he did, but that wasn't even an issue for him. His heart only belonged to Severus now, why couldn't he see that? "I DON'T LOVE HIM!!!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, to the walls, to no one. He listened, silence. Solitude. Moments passed and as his legs cramped, he found he couldn't pull himself up. He swore, then threw the cane aside shattering one of several mirrors, then he collapsed onto the floor. The pain was so great, so complete, he didn't even realize when he had shifted forms, and curled up on a rug. Lost in despair, he eventually fell asleep.
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