Erratum

oldfic, reposting from my other account

---

TITLE: Erratum
PAIRING: SB/SS
Rating: EXPLICIT
NOTES: Part of the Severus Snape Fuh-Q Fest, submission for Second Wave Original Scenario #66: Snape is featured as the Bachelor of the Month in Witch Weekly. Thanks very much to Neekun for editing ^_^.

Fiona Featherswill's office desk was an absolute mess--various letters and photographs covered the entire surface. The letter in the middle of this chaos interrupted her compiling and editing, and for once the bustle outside her cubicle went by unnoticed.

As she read the letter, she wondered if what was in it would pose complications; Witch Weekly was a girl's magazine, after all--targeting teenage witches and zeroing in on pop idols and attractive male celebrities. Available male celebrities. Heterosexual male celebrities.

The ashtray obediently hovered closer and she discarded the ash at the end of her cigarette. Well, she didn't exactly know that he didn't like women as well, did she? For the sake of a good story, one incriminating letter to a former male lover can be...overlooked.

Her gaze once again drifted across the various photographs. The man certainly was no James Potter, but it really wasn't fair to pose a comparison. Different looks, different appeal, different attraction...the possibilities started to fill her head. With James Potter's son drawing in one half of the audience, and this man drawing in another half (if Merlin was with her), Witch Weekly was going to be a very busy magazine for the next month.

She dropped the cigarette into the ashtray, then stretched and flexed her fingers--yes, this could work. This could definitely work.

"You," she pointed at the young man in the photograph, captured sitting by the lake with a book open on his lap, "are going to be the newest male sensation to grace our pages after the fall of Voldemort. So you'd better bloody well appreciate it."

Dark eyebrows drew together as the young man gave her a vicious glare. Oh, that's perfect, she thought, you just keep doing that. She smiled at him. He looked at her, as if reevaluating his opinion of her intelligence, then ignored her and returned to his book.

---

Sirius Black didn't think he'd be spending Thursday afternoon pounding vigorously away between Severus Snape's widespread legs.

The thought didn't even enter his mind as he went down to the greasy git's workroom for a fresh supply of Wolfsbane potions for Remus. Their opening conversation was even littered with the usual bite and sarcasm. Which was why, twenty minutes later, he was wondering how in hell he ended up shirtless and merrily humping his godson's Potions master in the adjacent bedroom.

...Not that he could wonder very efficiently at the moment, considering said Potions master was sporting a ravaged look that fit far more nicely than the usual scowl or glare--mouth half-open, uttering moans and whimpers, eyes closed tightly and brows drawn together in the most exquisite expression of ecstasy Sirius had ever seen on a man. Or a woman, for that matter.

GodDAMN, but Snape was tight.

He smirked, and grasped Snape's hips tightly, restrictively, purposefully ceasing all manner of activity that mattered at the moment. Snape gave a very audible cry of protest.

"Wha--?! Shit--!" Sirius felt an impressive attempt to move beneath his hands. Impressive, but futile. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Shh," Sirius said in a mock-soothing tone, "I want this to last. I won't be back 'til next week, after all." The tight heat pulsed demanding around his shaft.

Snape drew a frustrated breath through tightly-clenched teeth. "Black, I swear if you don't move this instant--!"

A deep laugh answered the threat. "Or you'll what?" He gave a single, swift thrust before withdrawing and falling still again. Oh, he so loved being physically stronger. "You're not in an ideal position for doling out threats, Snape." He leaned forward and languidly filled the other man again, letting his palms slide across the pale, slender body to rest on his chest, a thumb on each nipple. Snape's neck glistened with sweat, tinged with the fierce blush prevalent throughout his entire skin in his aroused state. He licked the skin there, moving his lips upward until his breath teased the other man's left ear. "Begging's got you places before, though..." He let it hang, fondly recalling the times Snape's frustration was given voice when he was denied release.

"Don't do this..."

A chuckle from deep in his throat as he nibbled on the earlobe. "Close, but not quite." His thumbs gently teased the small nipples, pressing and tracing circular patterns on the soft nubs.

The response came a few tense seconds later, through gritted teeth, "Please move." A demanding shift beneath him. Desperation colored his voice, "Please."

Sirius smirked in triumph and drew up slowly again, his palms tracing the same path they did a few moments ago. Snape looked up at him expectantly, panting in anticipation. "Good boy," he whispered. He angled himself, then slowly regained the fierce rhythm they'd established earlier.

Snape bit his lower lip in an attempt to stifle a cry at Sirius' first thrust back in. The strangled sound vibrated through his throat, pierced through their labored breathing. Sirius laid his hand on Snape's jawline and traced a thumb across the other's lips, inviting the mouth to open for him. He wanted to hear Snape's pleasure, relishing the fact that he was the cause of the other man's indignation.

The lips parted obediently under his finger, the hitched gasps and moans filling the air once more. The thumb that had momentarily rested on the lower lip pressed insistently against the slight opening. Snape opened his mouth further, drawing in the finger and sucking greedily on it. His slight form rocked back and forth with each assault.

Desire mounting, Sirius shifted on the bed, leaning forward to brace himself on his right hand beside Snape's head, the left hand swiftly grabbing Snape's right leg and hoisting it over his shoulder. The other leg followed, and the position had Snape bent nearly double on the mattress. His tense white arms desperately gripped the sheets on either side of his head.

With only a low growl as a warning, Sirius resumed thrusting in a brutal pace. Snape screamed his delight, frantic words escaping his mouth. Sirius felt the other's hand grab his tense arm desperately as if seeking rescue. He leaned forward and captured the tempting mouth in his own, plunging his tongue in and felt it received in much the same manner as his manhood--tight, wonderful heat gripped him on both ends and assisted him in achieving his climax.

The screams escaping Snape's throat became more urgent. The legs on his shoulders tensed, the mouth beneath his own sucked on his tongue greedily. In a few more thrusts, the pliant flesh enclosing his cock pulsed and rhythmically tightened as Snape climaxed, spilling his seed on his neck and chin, then on both of their chests.

Sirius thrust in and out a few more times, relishing in the pulsing heat, before feeling his own orgasm get ripped from him as Snape milked his cock of its seed, shoving back against him and tightening further as he came deep within the other man.

The screams slowly subsided into soft moans, and had receded into deep breaths of much-needed air by the time Sirius broke their kiss.

He remained propped up on the bed, forcefully calming his breath and watching. Snape opened his eyes, and the glazed look on them slowly vanished. The black pools looked at his own tenderly before gliding down his face and focusing on his chin. Snape moved forward then, leaning in to quietly lap at the come on Sirius' jawline.

Sirius enjoyed the ministration a few seconds before pushing Snape forcefully back on the bed with one hand. "Stop that, or you'll find yourself bent over again and screaming."

Snape gave him a tired smirk. "Such a high opinion of yourself."

His arms were starting to give, and Sirius let himself sink onto the black folds of the mattress, settled beside his companion. He gave a soft laugh. "Not my fault if you're good for my ego."

No retort came as Snape's eyes had drifted close. Sirius watched the deep breathing soften into a regular rhythm, making sure that Snape was asleep before drawing closer and wrapping his arms around the other man.

He felt slightly disappointed--he'd wanted a repeat performance of their previous encounter, with Snape coming twice while being repeatedly impaled. Well, he thought, stroking the man's silky black hair, there'll be other times.

---

Snape woke up in the middle of the night, the covers drawn to his chin. The warmth he'd been basking in before he fell asleep was absent, and he opened his eyes to see rumpled sheets and pillows. The indentation on the bed was the only indication that Sirius had stayed a bit longer before leaving.

He reached an arm out and let his hand glide across the slight dips on the mattress. Those indentations were actually becoming more and more pronounced, sinking a little more each time Sirius slept there. The fact that the other man had laid claim to a particular side of his bed slightly worried Snape.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, getting more complicated with each day they spent in each other's company. But still a game, he thought, as he slowly got up and headed for his stash of liquor. Always a game.

Snape frowned as he realized that the thought bothered him as well. He took the glass he'd poured for himself and turned to observe the deserted bed, resting his eyes on the rumpled sheets on the side his absent lover owned.

---

Maybe he should announce all his problems to the world. Nobody seemed to be convinced he had enough on his hands, everybody kept giving him more.

That morning, Snape had eaten breakfast with an animated McGonagall, an annoyingly cheerful Dumbledore, and a very tense staff. It seemed to him like everyone was waiting for something, but when he asked Sinistra, she quickly said "NO!" and then asked why he kept eating his eggs scrambled.

It was definitely suspicious--especially with the way McGonagall kept avoiding his glance while looking as if she knew something he didn't--but he figured that whatever it was, if it was that important, he would find out eventually.

The atmosphere made him uncomfortable, and Snape quickly finished his meal before the post came in. He still needed to review his syllabus, which he was supposed to have finished the night before. He'd only gone to the Great Hall because he missed dinner as well, damn Black's timing.

The Third Year class survived with relatively few damages, and so did the class after that. He retreated to his workroom at lunch to rest and gather his materials for the next batch of lessons.

It was in Potter's class, ever the bane of his existence, that his next large problem flew directly into his hands.

He should have known something was wrong when the class seemed exceptionally noisy. They quieted far more quickly than normal when he demanded silence, but a faint buzzing as a few students commenced chatting in private filled his ears while he wrote the properties of the new potion on the blackboard.

The mumbling grew in intensity with each written word. Sensing it was going to once again escalate into abject noise, he whirled around and silenced the students with a furious glare.

Two girls didn't seem to notice the abrupt silence, however. His glare intensified as he watched Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil speaking together in what they thought were hushed tones over a publication spread out on their desk.

Snape already suspected what they were reading. He'd had to confiscate the damn publication often enough. It would be embarrassing to be mistaken though, so in a quiet voice he asked, "Ms. Brown, Ms. Patil, what could you both possibly be reading that is even minutely more interesting than my lecture?"

The two froze at the sound of his voice, then slowly looked at him. He smirked.

Then Lavender giggled.

Which effectively removed all traces of the smirk. An angrier glare became the substitute. Before he could insult the girls' House, heritage, and ancestors, Parvati mustered the gall to answer his question truthfully: "Witch Weekly, Sir."

He raised his eyebrow at her easy tone. The idiots weren't even smart enough to realize they were about to get their lives' worth of detention at the end of class. "Ms. Patil, has that horrid excuse for a publication suddenly sprouted a potions section?"

"No, Sir."

"Then kindly remove it from my sight in ten seconds or I shall set it on fire."

Lavender seemed distraught over this. Other students seemed to be bothered as well. "But, Sir, you--"

"Quiet!" Snape tried to calm himself. They were losing precious time, and over a girls' magazine. "I will not have this classroom sullied with drivel. Merlin knows Potter's filled that space well enough." The boy in question glared back at him but said nothing.

Rather than heed the warning tone in his voice, Parvati excitedly told her seatmate, "I told you he doesn't know!"

Lavender frowned at her. "How can he not know? Don't they need his permission or something?"

He slammed his palm on the teacher's table, making a few students near the front row jump. "Detention for you both! And by God if whatever it is that I 'do not know' and has so enchanted you both away from my blackboard is anything short of the chemical attributes of a mandrake root, I'll--"

"Uh, Sir--" Pansy Parkinson interrupted, her hand halfway raised. She flinched a little as he redirected his glare at her, "--perhaps you should look at the issue--"

"Accio Witch Weekly!" his voice thundered, taking a mental note to give Ms. Parkinson a D in her next exam for interrupting. He scowled as approximately five copies of the damn thing hurled toward him from various other desks, one of which he was sure came from beneath the desk Weasley and Potter shared.

Pop quiz if this turns out to be a Quidditch player, he thought grumpily as he deposited the copies on his desk then sat, still glaring at the recalcitrant students near the back row. And a practical exam if whoever it is looks like Lockhart.

His eyes fell on the cover, silently wondering if he could have such distractions to teenagers banned from Hogwarts. Not that he didn't know such an act would provoke the students to consider such items as contraband and make them more popular--but it would give him more opportunities to remove House Points and assign more vicious detentions without the other Heads of House complaining about his "unfair treatment."

When his eyes focused on the cover, he wished he'd mused a little longer. Or hadn't taken the bloody things. Or just plainly hadn't woken up that day. At all.

He remembered standing like that a week before--on a balcony, arms crossed against his chest, leaning carelessly against a wall while watching the proceedings below. It was during one of Slytherin's game practices at the Field. He'd been pleased with what he'd seen, and that definitely showed on the picture in front of him.

The photograph had been cropped so that only he remained, his hair and clothes still being swayed by the occasional breeze. Instead of a wall, he leaned on the left edge of the magazine, his head tilted to the side, a pleased expression on his face.

The larger headline among the assorted clutter of titles read: "This Month's Featured Bachelor: Professor Severus T. Snape, Hogwarts' Potions Master - Part 1 of 4, p. 45."

He stared dumbly at the cover for a couple of seconds before it hit him. He was on the bloody cover of Witch Weekly. And it looked, for all the world, like he had posed for the damn thing.

Incredulity slowly made way for boiling anger as he flipped to page 45.

There: two pictures on one page, another on the next. All of which were taken on Hogwarts grounds. The first - on his way to one of his classes, books and papers tucked under one arm. The second - sitting on his favoured chair in the staff lounge, quietly sipping tea while reading a book. The third...

His temper flared to gigantic proportions as he saw the third image. God, no. Good God, no.

"Everybody out!" he shouted. The entire class seemed only too happy to comply.

He watched as the students quickly filed out of the classroom, House enmity momentarily forgotten as neither Slytherin nor Gryffindor waited 'til the other House was out before heading for the door. When the last student had gone, the door slowly closed, filling the silence with the creak of its hinges.

Scowling, he returned his gaze to the picture of him as an infant being held by a pair of pale, feminine hands. The most inane expression was on his face as he cheerfully splashed his arms into the contents of a cauldron thrice his size, splattering its contents and making them spill over the edges.

Someone was going to suffer for this. Very painfully.

---

"Why, yes, I do believe I gave them permission to enter Hogwarts...two, three weeks ago," Dumbledore said amiably, his attention divided between Snape and the papers he was writing for the Ministry. "They were quite adamant."

Snape opened the magazine to the appropriate page and laid it right on top of the document Dumbledore was assessing. The latter gave him a slightly irate glance before looking back down. A smile suddenly appeared on his lips, and he looked like he was about to choke with laughter, looking at the infant that was so enamoured with the liquids in the cauldron.

Snape planted his finger on top of the image and leaned forward on the desk. "I didn't give them permission to show that."

Dumbledore appeared to consider this for a while. "Hmm. No, I don't imagine you would do that."

"Shouldn't I have been consulted first?! Surely some law--"

"Well, yes, you should have." Dumbledore began to coo at the baby image, though all the pictures in the magazine were bespelled so the subjects were oblivious to the readers. "But they knew you'd refuse." He tipped the infant's small chin before leaning back again and addressing Snape. "So they went straight for the guardian. Who happens to think that this is a very good idea."

Snape gave a tired laugh. He collapsed on the chair beside him. "Oh, I'm all ears for this one."

"Severus, see these papers?" Dumbledore took out an entire sheaf of documents below the magazine and laid them on the desk nearer the younger man. "The only thing that prevented the Ministry from arresting you once again after Voldemort's fall was my word. And Harry's. And even after that, Aurors have been demanding that you be investigated, captured, or thrown in Azkaban. This," he sorted through the pile and took out a long sheet of paper, "is a petition to have you discharged. Over five hundred parents signed it."

Snape's expression turned from tired to angry to sullen during Dumbledore's speech. It was beginning to border on brooding. He said nothing as the Headmaster took the papers back and started rearranging them.

"Your image--for lack of a more appropriate term--is in a shambles. Personally, I think The Daily Prophet would be a better choice for public relations material, but we're not exactly on good terms with them, considering what happened to Ms. Skeeter."

The brooding look was very much in play now. "So you went begging at Witch Weekly's door."

Dumbledore raised an amused eyebrow. Everyone knew the Headmaster begged at no one's door. "No, actually--believe it or not, they approached a faculty member with the idea. And that faculty member then passed it on to me."

It was McGonagall's fault then, Snape was sure of it. That smug look on her face all but announced it. He gave a tired sigh, rubbing his temple with his right hand. "May I at least see the agreement?"

Snape read it critically when it was handed to him. He blinked, then read it again. "Albus...this just says they're licensed to feature absolutely anything about my life that 'they so deem appropriate.'"

"Mm. Yes, I believe I read that myself."

"Anything, Albus. Including--"

"I distinctly told them that if they are going to mention your Deatheater days, they'd better do so with great care and discretion. And it wouldn't exactly gain positive feedback if they dwelled on it, would it?" He pinned Snape with a look that brooked no argument. "Intolerable as this may seem to you, this will definitely alleviate Ministry concerns and hopefully placate the parents. Just..." he made a vague gesture with his free hand, returning his attention to the Ministry papers in front of him, "ride it out, Severus. It's only for one month."

One month was a long time, and Snape would have mentioned that, except the Headmaster had clearly dismissed him. He bid a grumpy farewell and left.

He headed straight for the sanctuary that was his personal rooms, locked and warded the doors, then took two shots of liquor before settling down in front of the table near the fireplace, a copy of Witch Weekly in hand. With slightly trembling hands, he once again opened to page 45 and began to read.

It was a long introductory issues, beginning with a brief overview of his present status, citing teasers of the following three issues, then launching into a rough description of his childhood. A grimace settled on his face as he read a surprisingly accurate account. They even got some of the abuse his father put him through right.

He also discovered that the page with his picture as an infant was a fold-in, and was actually three pages long when collapsed. He covered his face with his hands and groaned as several childhood pictures sprang into view.

Images of his entire life began to crowd his mind. Horror filled him at the thought of some of them being displayed so publicly--to be read by enemies, colleagues, and students. And what the hell did his life story have to do with being a bachelor in Witch Weekly anyway?

He didn't finish reading. Snape took hold of the corner of the magazine and flung it into the fire.

There were going to be three more issues, which would, according to the introduction, deal with schooling, apprenticeship, and present life, respectively.

Someone kill me now, he thought, and poured himself another shot.

---

"Wasn't he the cutest little thing?"

Sirius laughed as Remus began making baby noises at the baby pictures spread out on the table. Still is, he thought. He continued reading from where he'd left off, right where Snape's mother died after he turned five. Already reading when he was two years old. God, what a freak, he thought fondly.

"I wonder how he feels about you reading all this," Remus remarked, still sporting a wide distracted smile.

Moony always was fond of children. He thought about what Remus said and his brows furrowed.

Remus, unaware of his sudden discomfort, continued, "Though he's probably busy chewing out whoever's responsible for this. The Headmaster, I'd guess. They'd need some sort of permission, and it's highly unlikely they got it from Snape himself." A sudden thought struck him, and he gave a loud laugh, "Merlin! Remember during our time, those cheap portable Wizard cameras came out, and almost everyone had one?" He looked at Sirius, and some of his fond smile died from his lips when he saw the other man's unrest. "Padfoot? What's wrong?"

Sirius smiled self-consciously at having worried his friend. He hadn't thought to hide his distress. "Nothing, I...nothing."

But Remus wasn't fooled. "Does reading about Severus' life disturb you? He did have quite a sad childhood..."

"It's not that." He let out a large breath as he steeled himself before proceeding. He wasn't even sure he had his emotions down pat, but perhaps speaking to Remus about them would make some things clearer. "Rem, I didn't know any of this." He gestured to the long spread in front of them both. "Not one."

The werewolf gave him a puzzled expression. "I'd expect not. Severus never was one to chat about his life."

"Yes, but...I had to know from this." He gave the surface of the article a frustrated tap. "It's--we've been spending time together for months now, and--I just thought it might be something that would come up. I just realized I didn't know anything about him aside from what you and I knew of him in school. Which was never much."

"What did you two talk about?"

The frank question caught him off guard, and he started thinking back on those missions he and Snape been forced to go together. "A lot of things, actually. His opinion of Dumbledore. Hehe." Remus laughed as well. "At first, we just insulted each other. He'd tell me how inept I was at being a godfather and how unsupervised Harry was, and I'd tell him how ineffective a teacher he was being and how the children left Hogwarts despising Potions more than any other subject. Actually, that last bit sort of got to him."

...And he had apologized. And Snape had continued insulting Harry, which was as much of an acceptance of his apology as Sirius was going to get.

"That was at first. You two talk about anything else later on?"

"Yeah." Azkaban, Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort, James, Lily, Hogwarts...

Remus smiled at the reminiscent expression on his face. "Padfoot, all those things you talked about before, colored with his biases, opinions, and experiences with them as they were--those are things that no journalist could pry out of anyone else. You don't think that makes you exclusive?"

It wasn't the exclusivity he was troubled with, but that would mean contemplating what else it was that could be disturbing him about the whole thing, and he had a feeling he did not want to go there.

Sirius sighed. Speaking with Remus often helped, but sometimes the werewolf could raise questions without even meaning to. "I guess. That, and I'm going to have to read how much this man suffered in the background while I was tormenting him in school."

Remus flinched at that and frowned at the magazine. "That goes for both of us." Suddenly, he shook his head in amusement, laughing as he ran a hand through his hair. "'Bachelor of the Month,'" he said out loud, and laughed again.

Dammit, Moony! Sirius thought, as he realized that one statement disturbed him far more than the rest.

---

The second issue came out just when Sirius was returning to Hogwarts.

He refused to feel embarrassed about the sight he made--a tall man wearing heavy robes and black boots with bad-ass knee and arm braces, totally enraptured with an issue of Witch Weekly, headed for the train. He heard a few snickers as he passed by a group of boys. The girls just gave him odd looks, torn between amusement and admiration.

He didn't really give a damn that moment, as several of the things he dreaded were staring him right in the face. He saw his, James', and Remus' names at random parts of the page. He didn't read the article yet, prolonging the dread that had settled deep within him and opting to concentrate on the images first.

He had to admit, these people knew how to pick photographs. The cover once again sported an image of Snape, this time during his early teens. The young boy was in his school robes, hair pulled back neatly in the half-ponytail McGonagall had insisted he wear to keep his hair out of his eyes, but a few long strands were loose and they bordered his face. Sirius was familiar with the pose--Snape often crossed his arms on his desk and leaned slightly forward like that when he wasn't taking notes and opted to merely listen to the teacher. He wondered who had managed to take a picture of that, considering it must have been during class time and the shot was obviously frontal.

Instead of a desk, however, Snape was leaning on the words, "Bachelor of the Month: Professor Severus T. Snape, Hogwarts' Potions Master - Part 2 of 4, p. 32." The expression on Snape's face was rather intense, listening raptly to whoever it was that was conducting class. On one of his hands, he was idly twirling a quill, and his wand was gripped in the other. It was a nice angle, and it definitely showed off the nicer aspects of Snape's face without highlighting the largeness of the nose.

Sirius looked at the black eyes fringed with very dark lashes and winced. That was one of the reasons they relentlessly teased Snape all those years -- the oddness of his features. The thick lashes, large pupils, slender eyebrows, and the overall slightly thin figure lent him an air of femininity that was definitely out of place with the company he often kept in the Slytherin House. What gave credence to the oddness, though, were the combined features of the large nose, firm set of his mouth, and the sharp angles on his face. Snape had an eclectic sort of quality that made him hard to look at sometimes. Other times, one couldn't look away. And with the long hair he refused to have cut, well...he became fodder for harassment.

Teased just for being himself, he thought with a grimace. God, that must have hurt.

The photographs inside almost blasted Sirius back into the past. They were so familiar, he could almost clearly state the date and context of the moving images. There--during breakfast at the Great Hall, speaking softly with Lucius Malfoy on his right side, with Rosier by his left. Another, flying through the air during a Quidditch match playing Chaser. Below that, having a verbal spat with James. Sirius looked at that one fondly--James had accidentally added something that blew up their cauldron, and Snape had been furious. All Gryffindors and Slytherins tensed as they watched the two come close to physical blows, ignoring Professor Buchanan's half-hearted attempts at placation.

The result had been ugly. It was the last time the two of them were paired with a member of the opposite House.

As Sirius settled into his seat, waiting for the train to move, he skimmed through the other photographs. Most of them showed off Snape's accomplishments in Hogwarts--and there were definitely many. Pictures of him studying in the library, reciting in class, successfully performing in practicals littered the pages. One small image caught his eye, and he drew the page closer to see the photograph clearly.

Snape was propped against a tree, caught up in a book he was reading on his left hand. Beside him with his royal head on the dark-haired boy's lap was Lucius Malfoy, book also in hand, head tilted slightly to the side to catch a clearer ray of sunlight through the tree's canopy.

It seemed innocent enough, but Sirius knew better. He was once again glad that the hurtful bastard was dead and probably rotting away in hell.

He didn't want to dwell on how the two people on the photograph seemed so...right together. And he certainly didn't want to dwell on the contented expression on Snape's face while his right hand idly played with Lucius' hair.

He wondered if he and Snape ever made such a complete picture throughout the months they'd spent together.

---

Snape was not having a good time.

Casting "Accio Witch Weekly" became a part of his routine every time he entered the classroom, and more copies seemed to sail toward him since the last time he cast it. The children never seemed to learn not to bring their copies to his classroom. One girl even approached him, asking for an autograph. She ran crying to Flitwick after he'd burned her copy.

It seemed every witch at Hogwarts who was allowed to read the damn things had her own personal copy. Meals at the Great Hall became pure hell as he suddenly became good sport for the faculty's jibes. McGonagall in particular delighted in digging up old memories and sharing them with those who didn't know or had forgotten. Snape was painfully reminded, once again, that he was the youngest of the staff and had very little over those older than him.

At least the House Elves were cooperative when he requested that his meals are to be regularly delivered to his rooms. Such requests often reached Dumbledore, but he knew the older man would understand (and maybe even have a private chuckle over it).

Saturday morning found him having a brief encounter with McGonagall, after he'd set fire to five girls' copies of Witch Weekly before their eyes. One of them had cried--it seemed they'd gone through hell to get those copies only to have them burned by him when they weren't even in class. The Gryffindor Head of House had witnessed the entire thing and reprimanded Snape in view of several other students, telling him in no few words that he was being petty and selfish, and that his immaturity over the whole situation was dwarfed only by his ingratitude for other people's efforts to save his worthless hide.

Strange how something so long-winded could be so hurtful without having any expletives. Snape merely retaliated with a few choice words, revealing what he exactly thought about their efforts to save his worthless hide. Then he retreated back to his rooms, trip to the library forgotten in lieu of drinking himself silly.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting in front of the fire, surrounded by several bottles of wine--more of which he kept discovering to be empty in his search for a full one--and it was in that state that Sirius Black found him.

He was almost at that state where he forgot anyone could enter at all, until Sirius deliberately walked in front of him and blocked his view of the fire.

"You're drunk," Sirius said after a while of staring at Snape. Or of being stared at. Snape couldn't get his eyes to focus much.

"Yippee," he said in what he hoped was a mocking tone.

"You're very drunk."

"Hmm!" Sirius always did like to point out the obvious. This time, Snape found it amusing. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"

Sirius gave him an uncertain half-smile as he surveyed the empty bottles. "How long have you been drinking?"

"What time is it?"

"4 p.m.."

Snape gave it a moment's thought. "Six hours." He was feeling generous so he held out the bottle to the other man, offering some of the precious content. Anyone who liked to point out the obvious needed to get drunk, he thought, and nodded sagely to himself.

He smirked as Sirius took the bottle, but frowned when it wasn't returned to him.

"Do you have any Sobering Potions?" he was asked. Sirius actually looked concerned, crouching down in front of him and looking straight into his eyes. It was not an expression Snape was used to seeing on his face.

"No," he said decidedly, and added a shake of his head for emphasis. "None left."

Sirius started to stand. "I'll go ask Poppy, then--"

"She doesn't have any," Snape interrupted. "We let the little bastards who get drunk stay drunk. The hangovers are often enough of a lesson." He remembered catching several Seventh Year students in such a state throughout the years, and the way they embarrassed themselves made him feel a little better.

Sirius sighed, then stood and headed for a far shelf. He was about to tell the Animagus to stay the hell away from his shelves when he caught sight of the rolled up Witch Weekly sticking out of the other man's robe pocket. He glared at it, wondering why in hell it was there when he'd burned it that morning...then he belatedly realized there was more than one copy in the world.

Whatever potion he was looking for, Sirius found it and headed back to him. Snape transferred his glare to the other man and said, "Tell me you didn't read that."

For a moment he thought Sirius was about to deny knowing what he was talking about. Stupid man. He was a mind reader. There was no escape. "I didn't read this," came the safe answer. Sirius took out the magazine in question and placed it on the table near the fire.

"Good," Snape said, and nodded pensively.

"Have you?"

"No," he watched, amused, as Sirius seemed to have trouble uncorking the bottle. Damned if he was going to tell him about the latch on the side. "One look at the cover's more than enough for me, thank you."

"Why have you been drinking?"

He gave Sirius an incredulous look and pointed emphatically at the magazine on the table.

"Oh. Right." Bottle opened, he held it out to Snape. "Hangover Potion. Drink half."

Hangover Potion. Not as effective as the Sobering one, but it still managed to remove some effects of the drunken state when ingested while inebriated. He snatched the bottle and glared. He knew full well what it was and how much to drink.

The potion took effect seconds after his second swallow. He reeled slightly as his senses became halfway normal and bombarded him with details of his surroundings. Sirius stood patiently to one side as he groaned and waited out his sudden disorientation.

"Fine now?" he heard Sirius ask.

"No," he answered, and gave another groan. A massive headache was waiting to pounce on him near the edges of his consciousness.

"Your fault, that. You should know better than--"

He quickly held up a hand. "Black, for the love of God--!"

"All right, lecture later. Get up, you need to sleep the rest of this off."

He looked at the proffered hand skeptically before taking it and hoisting himself up on uncertain feet. "It's too early," he muttered, but he let himself be led to his bedroom anyway.

"You're sleeping anyway."

Snape frowned. He didn't much like that tone. Especially on Sirius Black. He contemplated telling the man so, but he couldn't see any point in it at the moment.

The trip to the bed was short. When he saw the invitingly clean bed with a fresh change of sheets, suddenly sleep seemed like a very good idea. He went forward without Sirius' assistance, kicked off his shoes and pulled his robes over his head smoothly before collapsing face-down on the soft sheets.

He heard Sirius chuckle behind him and felt hands removing the small belt of vial cases he wore around his waist. All uncomfortable bumps were removed as Sirius prepared him for sleep.

The man was being incredibly patient, Snape realized. Snape watched tipsily as Sirius busied himself around the room. He didn't go beyond removing his waistcoat and opted merely to un-tuck his shirt before saying goodbye and standing to leave.

Snape prevented him from leaving by grabbing a handful of his robe and tugging.

Sirius looked back down at him, clearly surprised. "What?" he asked, puzzled. Snape merely tugged him again until the Animagus was sitting on the bed, then he pulled at one arm until the daft man got the hint and lay down beside him.

"Get your robes off, you fool," he muttered impatiently. His head throbbed with the effort of staying awake. He closed his eyes, feeling the burn behind them subside. After a while, he felt the familiar warmth settle back down on the bed beside him, and he shamelessly drew forward, feeling the soothing glow wrap around him as an arm settled hesitantly on his back.

"Next time you get smashed, I'd better be invited," Sirius said. He'd felt the deep vibration of his voice through his shirt.

"You don't have anything to get smashed about," he murmured.

He slowly let himself drift into unconsciousness. Before sleep overtook him, he heard the other man's voice again, though he seemed to be talking more to himself when he said, "There's always you."

---

Damned stupid Witch Weekly. Damned stupid wine. Damned stupid fucking Sirius Black with his uncharacteristically cryptic late night sentences and allergic reactions to spending the night over.

The mantra went on for the entire length of time it took Snape to bring himself to move from the cold bed, gather his bathrobe and towel, walk to the door, and enter the other room.

He stopped abruptly as he saw the man that was the longest part of his mantra casually draped across his favorite chair, reading--of all the bloody things he didn't want to see that day--the second issue of Witch Weekly. He had forgone wearing his robe, and his hair seemed damp from a recent shower.

The mantra just underwent an immense change, as spending the night was replaced with taking advantage of the poor defenseless Potions masters' facilities.

When Sirius noticed him standing at the doorway, he said a quick, "Good morning," and gestured toward the fresh pot of coffee.

Snape scowled at the vile concoction and headed straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

After a quick shower, he went straight for the Hangover Potion, and finished off the bottle. He closed his eyes and waited a few moments as the last traces of his headache slowly vanished.

When he looked up, he saw Sirius still immersed in that damned magazine. "I can't imagine what you could find so fascinating in there."

"There are some things," Sirius murmured. He said nothing else for a few seconds before closing it and laying it down on the table. "Malfoy, for example."

Oh, here we go.

"I never knew your family was indebted to them."

Snape scowled at him. He crossed his arms against his chest and leaned against the shelf behind him. "Not exactly your business."

"Paid in full?"

"Still none of your business."

"How did you pay it off?"

He forced himself to maintain a calm exterior and looked straight into Sirius' accusing eyes. Stupid Gryffindors couldn't even be subtle about being nosy. "You think I offered sex."

Sirius didn't say anything.

He contemplated booting Sirius out of his room. Black, get the hell out, was already on his lips, waiting for the go signal to leave it. Instead, he found himself answering truthfully, "Not that I like to encourage your more tenacious tendencies, but if Lucius had just wanted sex when the debt was passed on to me--and at the very young age of twelve, might I add--I doubt I had anything that would interest him."

"So what did he want?"

He couldn't hold the gaze any longer and dropped it to the floor. As if on instinct, his right hand began to rub against the Dark Mark through the fabric of his robe.

A tense silence filled the air. He heard Sirius sigh and stand from his seat, the rustle of papers indicating he'd abandoned Witch Weekly for the moment. "Frankly, I'm surprised you answered that."

He gave a short bark of laughter at that. "So am I," he said.

"Kind of scary, eh?"

Warm hands settled on his upper arms and stroked gently. Snape found it oddly soothing. "Not any more than you actually giving a damn."

"I'm just glad you're still talking to me despite all the...things Witch Weekly dug up --"

Snape quickly tilted his face slightly upward, laying a swift kiss on the other's lips. It was the quickest way he could think of to silence him. "Don't," he adamantly said after. "Not now. I don't want to think about it."

"Alright." He felt the stroking hands hold his upper arms in a gentle grip and draw him forward. Warm lips sealed against his own again, and this time the contact had a different purpose to it.

As their kiss grew in intensity, so did the heat emanating from their bodies. After a while, Sirius backed slowly without breaking the kiss, and soon they were standing directly in front of the fireplace. The chairs and tables were far enough apart, and Snape silently thanked Dumbledore for the low carpeting he had installed four months before.

Sirius grabbed a handful of his robe in each hand and pulled. Snape uncrossed his arms, letting the thin material fall to the ground, and placed each palm against the sides of Sirius' face. He felt and guided the kiss by touch, feeling the hot tongue battling his own and tempering Sirius' fierce demands with answering carefulness.

The fierceness abated slightly, and as both men broke the contact for a decent breath of air, Snape drew Sirius down to the ground with his right hand, and with his left began undoing the clasp at the front of his trousers.

Sirius settled back with one leg stretched out and the other bent. A small lascivious smile played on his lips as Snape took out his cock and started to stroke it to hardness.

Snape watched Sirius' face as soft flesh hardened under his touch. This was definitely more preferable than liquor in the morning. Pausing his motions for a while, he looked down at his handiwork and licked his lips. With deliberately slow motions, he settled across Sirius' legs so he was lying perpendicular the other man, then bent his head and licked the head of the large shaft.

He smiled as he heard a sharp hiss above him. Caressing the cock's base with both hands, he teased the head for a few more seconds, relishing in the musky taste and silky feel against his tongue, then trapped half of the length inside his mouth.

A deep groan this time, and slight grunts of pleasure as he alternated between sucking and caressing the underside of the shaft with his tongue. Taking great care to not let his teeth scrape, he drew his head back slowly, paused with only the head in, then drew back down. He took more and more of the length as he continued, tasting precum far in his throat, immersed in the scent of excitement Sirius was exuding.

Snape almost jerked back as he felt a hand colder than his flushed body stroke his arms, torso, then thighs. Another settled against his head, assisting and encouraging his movements. The hand on his thighs circled, drew upward and stroked his rear firmly. Then, without a warning, thrust a single finger inside his hole.

He gave a startled sound at the intrusion, muffled by the cock in his mouth. He was about to draw back when the hand behind his head firmly pushed him back down, telling him to stay in place. Snape shook slightly as he forcefully took a shuddering breath through his nose, trying to concentrate on his current task and ignore the slight pain/pleasure Sirius was causing at his other end.

The dry stimulation was withdrawn, and he couldn't help a slight whine at its loss. Sirius gave a breathless chuckle and leaned back slightly to grab something from near the fireplace--his massage oil, which they'd used often enough in the past.

The distinct sound of the bottle being opened floated to his ears, and the spicy scent of the oil slowly drifted to his attention. Excitement coursed through him while he sucked and released the shaft in his mouth, sensing more and more of the bittersweet seed in his mouth every time he drew back down.

The hand behind his head pushed back again as a coated finger probed deep inside him. He moaned, feeling very little of the former pain that had accompanied the first intrusion, and tilted his hips slightly back to get more of the digit inside.

Two fingers. He paused in his task and reached down to caress his own unattended excitement. A whimper left his lips as the fingers filling him deeply were withdrawn and his hand was heavily slapped away.

"None of that," Sirius muttered.

Three fingers returned and stretched him slowly, the middle of which began to relentlessly stab near his prostate. He gave a strangled cry as uncontrollable pleasure coursed through his body, and sucked Sirius' cock back into his mouth with a vengeance.

The leaking in his mouth increased, and the hand that had been restricting his head for the past few minutes began to tug at his hair, drawing his mouth away from Sirius' shaft. He threw his head back and panted as the fingers drove relentlessly into him. The rough surface of the carpet provided some stimulation against his own cock, and Snape rubbed himself shamelessly against it.

Urgent hands moved him into position. He settled on all fours in front of the fire, trying to gauge his excitement and calm his breathing. His labored breathing sounded harsh against his ears, and the heat from the fire stung his eyes and made them water. Sirius' weight behind him took away precious time he'd hoped for to steel himself, and his cock throbbed almost painfully as the unmistakable blunt head slowly pushed against his eager opening.

He felt the coarse material of Sirius' pants against his thighs and legs, and the slightly softer feel of his shirt behind his back. The cock slowly slipped painlessly into him, and he gave a low keening moan as he was quickly filled with Sirius' length.

Snape bit his lower lip with the effort of forestalling his climax. He was already so close! Hot breath tickled his right ear as Sirius leaned forward to hungrily nuzzle his neck and shoulder. He thrust back eagerly, wanting it, demanding movement. A slow withdrawal, then a sharp jab, forced a delighted cry out of his lips.

Below him, he felt one hand caress his right nipple, tugging it, gently rolling the nub around two fingers. The stimulation coupled with the series of direct lunges to his prostate became far too much, and Snape gave a heartfelt scream as orgasm wracked his entire body.

Tension stiffened his legs, his seed spilled on the carpet below him and short threads, and his lungs threatened to give out. It seemed forever until the sweet waves subsided, and when they did, his arms gave out under him and he rested his head against them, panting for breath.

Sirius seemed to be far from done. The only things keeping his lower half from collapsing were Sirius' hands on his hips and the hard cock buried in his ass.

He let out a complaining noise as Sirius commenced thrusting again, jabbing him in all the right places, ripping him away from his moment of recovery.

His shaft began responding to the reckless stimulation before it was ready. "Merlin, Black, stop a moment...!"

Sirius' answer to that was a low chuckle and a particularly brutal thrust. Snape choked back a sob as his own pleasure began to mount again.

The hands grasping his hips drew him slightly backward as Sirius straightened behind him. With the solid grip on his hips, Sirius pulled and pushed back with more fervor, filling him farther in and stimulating him more in places that probably shouldn't feel so pleasurable. Snape's hands desperately grabbed small tufts of the carpet--sweat poured off his body and forehead and dripped to the ground, staining the floor a darker shade of its usual deep green.

Cries of renewed pleasure left his open mouth as Sirius mercilessly plunged into him again and again. He felt his body get effortlessly rocked back and forth on the large shaft. His ears were filled with the obscene sounds of harsh breathing, his own screams, and the rhythmic slap of flesh against flesh.

The pressure built, and Snape found himself once again wailing out his rapture as a second orgasm hit him. His anal muscles tightened as he writhed below Sirius, toes curling, thighs quivering and body starting to go absolutely limp on top of the carpet.

This was finally enough for Sirius, who, after a few more urgent jabs, buried his cock deep inside him and came. Snape savored the wetness being shot deep within him, sighing his contentment against his arms when Sirius promptly withdrew his shaft from his rear then collapsed on top of him on the carpet.

Whatever discomfort came from having Sirius' dressed weight pressing him down on the carpet was lost on Snape as sleep overtook him, his drifting to unconsciousness accompanied by the rhythmic breathing against his ear, and the slow trickle of semen flowing down his right thigh.

---

It took Sirius a mere day to gauge just how bad things were for Snape.

Witch Weekly copies were everywhere. The publication was literally scattered throughout Hogwarts in the form of cut-outs, clippings, or recently-taken photographs that got copied fast before Snape himself got hold of the original.

His visit to Harry brought him up to date with regard to the students' reactions, and it seemed as if most everyone was starting to think that Snape was 'cool.'

Good God.

The color black was suddenly in fashion, and children were reviewing for Potions. Hermione was very close to gushing as she tried hard to pry every bit of information about Snape's reading habits and academic achievements out of Sirius, though she claimed she merely admired a man who knew the value of proper education.

A lot of the boys were getting into the hype as well. Rival publications of Witch Weekly--namely Charms and Young Wizards--cashed in and began publishing their own research and photographs (which they claimed were royalty-free).

Sirius was sure he could hear James rolling in his grave.

The four days that he stayed in Hogwarts were spent mostly on trips to Snape's rooms, to see how the professor was doing. He was almost always greeted with the sight of Snape giving out rather nasty detentions to a group of girls, and later in the week, to an increasing number of boys as well.

Surprisingly, they never ended up shagging since that last time at the fireplace. Either Snape was too tired or Sirius visited him too late in the night after delivering something for the Headmaster. As a result, their nights together often involved a few glasses of wine, brief conversations in front of the fire, and retiring to sleep on Snape's bed, clothes still intact.

Despite the cold exterior that the man often employed, the stress over teaching and pressure regarding Witch Weekly were clearly taking their toll on Snape. Sirius knew that he dreaded the third issue more than all the others. If how he'd reacted over the second issue was any sort of measuring scale, then the third would probably get Snape casting the Cruciatus on himself.

He brought his concerns to Dumbledore, who nodded his understanding and gave his sympathies over Snape's condition. But when Sirius asked if there was any way they could stop Witch Weekly from releasing the third article, the older man shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, Sirius, I did give them permission to publish all four issues."

"The Aurors and the parents have backed off, haven't they? And so has the Ministry?"

"Yes, however--"

"This third issue's really getting to him, Albus."

"Sirius, I could not go against a written contract. I'm sure you know this."

Sirius sighed and slumped back on his seat, frustrated. Snape grew tenser with every single day that brought the third issue closer. From what little he was told of the events that took place during his apprenticeship, Sirius was sure there was very little of it that wasn't incriminating in some way for the other man, be it Deatheater involvement, his return to Dumbledore for sanctuary, or his affairs with the Malfoy family. "Maybe we could blackmail them or something."

Sirius looked up to see Dumbledore regarding him critically behind his glasses. When their eyes met, the Headmaster asked, "Why are you so intent to help Severus on this matter?"

The direct question caught him off guard. Sirius thought--if he was going to be honest with himself, then the answer was something he'd better tell Snape rather than anyone else. He opted for a careful expression and a simple, "Personal reasons."

Dumbledore nodded as if he'd been perfectly clear. Somehow, Sirius thought he'd just been second-guessed. "That might just work for us since there is an equally...personal means of possibly getting him out of this mess."

Curiosity piqued, Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow. The Headmaster chuckled and took the second issue of Witch Weekly, turned it around on the desk so it faced Sirius, then tapped his finger on the surface.

"Dear boy...consider the title."

---

Snape looked exhausted when he came in at eleven. Sirius strode into the room and poked the professor's shoulder, making the other jump in surprise then glare at him.

"Ever heard of knocking?" he asked grumpily, the glare rendered useless by the sudden yawn he tried to stifle.

He looked vaguely interested in the small box Sirius thrust into his hands. Sirius, aware that he was looking animated and a little jumpy, crouched in front of his chair and waited for him to open it.

That seemed to disconcert Snape more than the gift, and he began to eye it skeptically. "What is it?"

"You'll find out when you open it."

Snape glared back at him. "I'm not in the mood for one of your tricks, Black."

"It's not a trick. Open it."

"That's what you said when you gave me a bottle of Zonko's Bursting Permanent Pink Dye."

"Will you just open it?!"

Snape sighed and quickly opened the box. Sirius watched as his expressions shifted from boredom to puzzlement to growing agitation.

"Black?"

"Yes?"

"Why am I holding a box with a silver band in it?"

"Because I'm proposing."

That dark gaze suddenly snapped onto him. "No you're not."

He gave a mock-wince as he said, "I'm afraid I am."

Black eyes searched his face, and whatever it is Snape found there made him even more agitated. "Are you insane?!"

Snape swiftly stood and began pacing the room. His eyes alighted on a copy of Witch Weekly recently confiscated from Potions class, and he whirled around to face the other man again. "This is about Witch Weekly, isn't it?"

"In part, but--"

"I knew it! Damn you stupid Gryffindors! If you think for one moment that avoiding that," he snarled the last word at the offensive object, "is a decent reason for commitment, you're even more senseless than I thought!"

"I said 'in part,' all right! Will you just shut up and let me talk first?"

"No." Snape's pacing was getting more furious by the second.

Sirius' brows furrowed. "What?!"

Snape faced him again. The expression on his face was thunderous as he quietly enunciated every word. "No, we are not getting Bonded. Not now, not tomorrow, not within this lifetime. You will take that piece of insanity back to the store, or I will throw it right now into Lupin's next batch of Wolfsbane potions."

Anger was slowly seeping into Sirius' system as he grabbed the small box, but instead of heading for the door, he walked toward Snape, who had taken refuge at the farthest corner of the room.

Snape eyed his approach warily. "It's brewing in the workroom. All fired up and ready to pour."

"Listen--," he tried, but was quickly interrupted.

"Wolves screaming, Remus writhing on the floor in agony--"

Sirius quickly closed the rest of the distance in a few strides and deftly held the other man's head in place. He delivered a swift kiss on the stubborn lips. When he withdrew, he quickly placed a silencing finger on the opening mouth, uttered a quiet "Ssh."

The lips thankfully stayed shut, as instructed. He held Snape's apprehensive gaze and continued, "I'm not propositioning out of some misguided code of honor to rescue you from your misery. I know how serious this is, and I'm willing to commit to every single thing that a Bonding entails. Whether or not you do accept, you have to understand that I desperately want this as well. I want to be able to spend my nights on your bed without having to wonder if I'll get booted out for it the next morning. I want to stop pretending that we're still playing games--that sleeping with each other doesn't mean anything, when you're all I could think about the day after."

Snape averted his gaze mid-speech, looking highly uncertain. Seconds that felt like hours passed, and he bit his lower lip for a while before saying in a worried tone, "I'm not too good with forevers."

"I know. My track record says I'm not either, actually. But I'd rather try than wonder for the rest of my life."

Sirius couldn't find the words to describe the nervousness he felt when Snape focused his attention on the band and took it from the box with one hand. He turned it around, looking at it from all sides. His gaze suddenly returned to Sirius, watching his eyes as his right hand began to slowly slide the simple ornament past his left hand to his wrist.

When it was in place, his intense gaze softened almost imperceptibly. A small smile graced his lips as he said, "It feels right."

Elation filled him that moment, and he was hard-pressed to keep from jumping up and down and running through the halls like a lunatic. "That's a 'yes,' then?" he asked, a silly grin plastered on his face as he wrapped his arms around Snape's waist.

"I guess it will get Witch Weekly off my back."

Sirius frowned. "I thought you said that was no reason to get Bonded."

"I'm saying yes here, you idiot."

---

Witch Weekly was not happy, but apparently it was not an unknown occurrence for them to suddenly have their Bachelor getting involved right in the middle of their feature.

Their next issue sported a new article about the top ten most effective oil-removing charms, with only a small mention in their errata box simply stating that the month's Bachelor of the Month section has been discontinued.

Before long, however, the couple suddenly found themselves fending off aggressive offers from other publications with a very different consumer target.

-- End of Erratum --