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Get Back | Tomorrow Never Knows

Sunday, 26 December, 1976 - Boxing Day

Sirius Black was an uncomplicated young man.

This was not to say that he was stupid, or shallow, or even simple. He just didn't believe in overanalyzing things. What is, is and what isn't, isn't and to hell with all the questions was Sirius Black's motto, and it had served him quite well over his young life. He was, even at sixteen, remarkably accepting of that which he could neither change nor explain.

Which was fortunate; otherwise, this thing with Snape - this bizarre, out-of-nowhere, I-hate-you-like-poison-but-I-want-to- shag-you-rotten thing that had sprung up since the end of last term - would have been driving him mental.

Not that he wasn't a bit...bemused. Who wouldn't be? It was Snape, for Merlin's sake, Severus-fucking-Snape, Slytherin, Dark Arts poster child, and all-around class creep. Wicked smart, pureblood but dirt poor, and not overmuch in the looks department. Oh, Sirius was willing to admit - to himself - that Snape wasn't quite as gouge-out-your-eyes ugly as the Marauders liked to tell him he was, but he was no oil painting, either. He was rail-thin and corpse-pale, his robes were obvious secondhand trash, and he washed his hair about as often as Sirius had a second thought. He had a twitchy walk and a vicious temper and a filthy mouth, he was sullen and sneaky and nosy and nasty, and just the fact that Sirius Black knew all of this and still wanted to make him squeal like a kneazel was enough to give even an uncomplicated boy pause.

But not for long. With an equanimity that surprised even him (and a lack of resistance he found almost embarrassing), Sirius had eventually come to terms with his new feelings. Or perhaps it wasn't so surprising; perhaps being a Black really had prepared him for anything. Compared to being the only human being in a long line of hex-happy, elitist assholes, a sudden urge to screw the school geek was really no big deal.

And it wasn't as if Snape had nothing to offer. He did have a certain... presence? Aura? Whatever it was, it was compelling. It was almost a scent to the Padfoot in Sirius, a heady mix of please-don't-hurt-me and go-fuck-yourself, always at war, just barely contained. Nor was he entirely lacking in physical charms. He had gorgeous eyes, piercing and black. He had nice lips, thin and red and bowed like a doll's. He had the strong, slender hands of an artist and a voice that had deepened over the last year or so to a silken, mahogany sheen. He had a truly massive cock and an ass so tight it was amazing he didn't squeak when he walked.

Sirius had always been an ass man; it pleased him to discover that the gender of the ass apparently didn't matter.

And it was a discovery he owed to James, James and his singularly malicious sense of humor.

Last June, after O.W.L.S. When James had exposed Snape, quite literally and very publicly, for Sirius's amusement - that had been the turning point, the trigger on this whole mad obsession. Because it hadn't been just for Sirius's amusement, had it? Oh, no. James was a bighead and James was a prat, but James wasn't stupid. Or blind. He knew what Sirius was about. James was also straight as a string, but he was always willing to help out a friend in need...and if Sirius needed to see exactly what was stashed under Snape's rather meager selection of threadbare black robes, well, what were friends for?

Last June.


"I have to say one thing for the little greaseball, though," James said later that night in the Common Room. "He's hung like a fucking hippogriff." He looked at Sirius, a sly smile crinkling his eyes. "You say so, Paddy?"

Sirius tried to bite back his own grin, without much success. He would most definitely say so, that grin said...though maybe not in front of Peter and Remus. "Well, you know what they say--"

you say it, Paddy," James half-threatened, half-groaned.

"--about blokes with big noses."

They shared an easy,
aren't-we-men-of-the-world laugh. Peter looked up from the chess game he was losing rather spectacularly to Remus, his expression eager and a bit confused. "What do they say about blokes with big noses?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. Gods, leave it to Peter. "Don't be thick."

"I'm not being th--"

"Thick as a brick."

"I'm not, I just don't know--"

"Dumb as a stump?" James offered.

"Just tell me what they say!" Peter was getting flustered. Whiny, with that shrill little edge to his voice that always made Sirius itch to slap him.

"Supposedly, the size of a man's nose is directly proportionate to the size of his penis," Remus interjected quietly. He didn't sound particularly interested, nor did he even look up from the board, though by the tightening of his jaw, Sirius guessed he was still pretty upset with them. "There's a Muggle saying about it...some kind of joke, I think..."

"'Big nose, big hose.'" James waggled his eyebrows at Sirius, a "go-for-it" gesture if Sirius had ever seen one. "Looks like it's no joke, eh, Padfoot? You dog, you."

They laughed again, and Peter looked at them curiously, the shared subtext too much for even him to miss. "What's so funny?"

Still chuckling, James waved a hand. "Nothing you'd...Nothing, Peter. Forget it."

"Oh, come on," Peter wheedled. "You can tell us. What are you two getting up to now?"

More brayed laughter was the only answer.

"It's your move, Peter," Remus said.

Peter ignored him. His eyes were narrowed, moving between James and Sirius with an avid, almost hungry gleam. "Oh,
I get it. You're planning another joke on Snivellus, aren't you? Oh, man, that's great! Boy, I hate that creepy bastard, don't you? Bloody Slytherins. What are you gonna do to him this time?"

Wouldn't you just shit if you knew, Sirius thought. "Wormy, what are you, deaf? James told you, it's nothing. Go back to your game."

"Doesn't look like nothing," he pouted. "Looks like you're planning something. Something funny."

Sirius gritted his teeth. First the whine, now the pout. What a vast repertoire Wormtail had. "For Merlin's sake, Wormy, will you give it a rest? Moony says it's your move, so shut up and

Peter flushed, ducked his head, and snarled at a bishop, which promptly obeyed and was just as promptly clobbered by Remus's queen. Peter glared at it. "Don't know why you can't let me and Remus in on it," he mumbled, brushing bishop crumbs from his lap. "We're your mates, too, you know."

Sirius looked at James. James looked at Sirius. Sirius sighed.

"I'm planning to fuck him, Wormy." Peter goggled - hell, even Remus looked up at that - and Sirius felt a stab of small, mean pleasure. "More than once, if I can manage it. I'm gonna fuck him and then fuck him again and then fuck him one more time, just for general jollies, and if you're nice to me, I'll give ol' Snivvy a right big old hump from you too, just to 'let you in on it,' and now that you know all this, will you please
stop the bloody whining and shut up and leave us alone?"

Peter was ashen. One corner of his mouth twitched. He made several attempts at speaking before one finally worked. "That's not even a bit funny, Sirius."

"Wasn't meant to be funny, Worm. Was meant to shut you up."

"Then it's not true." Relieved.

"What, that I want to shag Snape? Of course it's true." Sirius's voice was perfectly reasonable. "Why else would I care that he's got a great big prick? I don't go on about pricks as a rule, you know. I don't just walk into the Great Hall with 'Hey, everyone, James isn't cut and Moony's is bent and Peter's a pathetic little needle-dick,' now, do I?"

Peter blushed, but held his ground. "But that's...that's disgusting."

"No. Sad, maybe, but it's not like you can help it."

"Help--?" Peter blinked. "Help

"Being hung like a house elf."

Peter blushed harder. "That's
not what I'm talking about! I'm talking about...about Snape. You and Snape. Blimey, the whole idea...I know you're joking about this, Sirius. You must be joking, 'cause you like girls, I know you like girls-"

"Love girls," Sirius agreed. "Love, love, love 'em. But I think I want to give blokes a shot. Broaden my horizons and all that." He grinned, that big, careless, dazzling grin that dropped the birds on their backs like dominoes. "Hey, a hole's a hole, right, mate?"

Peter looked almost ill. "You're saying you're a...a poof."

Sirius shrugged. "Looks like it."

"A poof who wants to...who wants Snape."

He seemed torn between bewilderment and utter revulsion, and Sirius again had the urge to slap him. Or to laugh in his face. So nancy little Peter Pettigrew, the ponciest, prissiest fucking mama's boy Sirius had ever known, didn't like "poofs," eh? The sleazy little shit would probably be suffering from permanent, wank-induced blindness by the time he graduated, and he had enough back issues of
Wet & Wild Witches to choke a mountain troll, but apparently his broad-mindedness did not encompass homosexuality. What a nauseating little hypocrite.

Nor did he seem to think much of Sirius's taste in men, and that was
really pushing it. It was one thing for Sirius or even James to sneer at Snape, but, Wormtail? Bleeding Christ! Snape on his greasiest, twitchiest, most cadaverous day was ten times sexier than Wormtail would ever be - Wormtail, who was soft and pink and somehow floppy, with a head like an overripe peach. "Yeah, why not? He's got his good points."

"Sure," James said. "Like, he doesn't need a Locating Charm every time he takes a piss."

This time Peter blushed to the roots of his fuzzy blond hair, and James and Sirius rocked with laughter.

"Stop it, James." Remus's voice was soft but firm. "Leave him alone."

James shot him a look. "You say something, Moony?"

"You heard me. Leave him alone. Haven't you had enough fun for today?"

"Oh, I don't know." James's voice was pleasant, his smile less so. "I'm of a mind that you can never have enough fun."

"Yes, I know," Remus agreed sarcastically. "And you're such a fun-loving fellow, aren't you, James?"

The smile faded. "You know, you've been chewing on something all day, Remus, and you've been a drag all day. A
dead drag. If you've got something to say to me, say it. Otherwise, it's your move."

"If I need to say it, Jamie, you're blinder than I thought."

"If you can't say it, you're a bloody coward."

Remus's eyes flashed, and for a moment - a long moment - Sirius thought he was going to hit James. Then the tensed hands unclenched and the eyes faded back to their normal, gentle brown, and Remus nodded, almost to himself. "All right. I'll say it. I thought what you did to Snape today was the lowest, meanest, flat-out shittiest thing I've ever seen. I don't think you even realize what a really shitty thing it was."

"Oh, bollocks," James scoffed. "Is
that what you're still on about? It was a joke, Moony. I was having a bit of fun with the little git, is all."

"You think it was fun for him?"

"No, but that was the whole point." James tried a real smile. "Oh, come on, Moony! Lighten up! It's not like I hurt him. Hell, I probably helped him line up a few dates for next term. If Snivvy ditched those dingy knickers and learned how to walk on his hands, he'd be the best-looking bloke in school."

Sirius choked, James chuckled, even Peter managed the obligatory snicker. Remus gave all three of them a cold look. "That line's about as funny now as it was this afternoon."

"It's not mine," James shrugged. Which was perfectly true. It had actually been a Slytherin - Sirius's cousin Bellatrix, in fact - who had made this cruel, though not entirely inaccurate, observation, much to the amusement of the thirty or forty fellow students also enjoying the show.

"Of course, I didn't think
any of it was especially funny," Remus continued, as if James had not spoken at all. "I guess I don't have much of a sense of humor, because I just thought it was cruel. Gods, James! Lily Evans was right. What did that sorry little bastard ever do to you?"

"Why do people keep asking me that?" Now James sounded genuinely annoyed - put-upon, almost - and this time it was Remus who rolled his eyes.
"He's a little git. All right? He doesn't need to do anything. He's nasty and dirty and vicious and he'd hex his own mother into next week if she looked at him cross-eyed, and--"

"And aside from 'dirty', how does any of that make him any different from you?"

Peter's jaw dropped. Sirius winced. James flushed, his own fists clenching. "Well, I reckon I'm just not as noble as you are," he said softly. "But tell me, Mr. Prefect, where was all this self-righteous shit under the tree this afternoon?"

Remus flushed, too, but he didn't drop his gaze. "Don't know, James. I've been asking myself that question all day."

They stared at each other. It was Remus who finally broke the contest, though it did not look like concession so much as disgust. He stood, clearing his throat, and motioned to Peter. "Come on, Peter, let's go to bed. I'm tired."

"But--" Peter was looking from James to Remus and back again, his color still high, his expression oddly intense. It was, Sirius noted, the same look he had worn that afternoon, when James and Sirius had been humiliating Snape. "I'm not tired, I don't want--"

"Remus is tired, Wormtail." James's voice was hard and cold, his eyes still fixed on Remus's face. "And so are you."

Reluctantly, Peter rose, and he and Remus headed for the stairs. Sirius saw James open his mouth, as if he wanted to say something to Moony, maybe call him back, maybe apologize, maybe - it was possible, knowing James - make matters even worse. But Remus climbed the staircase and disappeared into their room without a look back.

James sighed. He opened another butterbeer and handed it wordlessly to Sirius before taking one for himself.

"Well." Sirius shifted. "That was...not good."

"Ah." James waved a hand. "He'll get over it. It's just Moony being Moony. He's so bloody
nice all the time, you ever notice that?"

"Yeah. But I like him anyway."

They grinned at each other.

"You don't think I went too far with Snape, do you?"

"'Course not. He pretty much deserves whatever he gets." Sirius looked carefully into his butterbeer. "Besides...I think I know why you did it."

"Well, sure. Even you're not that thick." Another grin.

They drank in silence for a few moments, watching the fire.

"It really doesn't bother you, then?" Sirius said at last.

James looked puzzled. "Merlin, Paddy, I don't care. If blokes get you off, so what? A lot of wizards fly both sides of the pitch."

"I mean...him. Snape."

James's mouth twitched. "Yeah, well...it's weird. Can't lie to you there."

"I want to hurt him, I think."

James nodded serenely, as if this was precisely what he had expected to hear. "He could use hurting, that one." A pause. "Is that it, then?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, do you actually fancy him - the arse or the cock or whatever it is you see in him - or do you just want to fuck him because he's Snape?"

Sirius considered the question carefully - for him - and in that moment he realized what "it" was. What power Snape had on him and over him, what was
really drawing Sirius Black to him, and had been even before the Slytherin's voice had changed, or Sirius had gotten a look at his bits or his bum. The something that was more important than all the rest, more powerful than even the sudden, raw physical attraction surging from teenage hormones. Something so simple Sirius couldn't believe he'd never thought of it before.

Snape hated him.

hated him, and Sirius couldn't stand that, because - well, because he was Sirius Black. He was the Adonis, the playboy, the school stud, and nobody hated him. Everybody liked him. Hell, everybody loved him, and why not? He was damned lovable. He was charming, smart, funny, handsome; his was the face that nightly launched a hundred sex-sweaty dreams, the smile that made the girls wet and the boys hard.

But not all the boys. Certainly not Severus Snape. And it was unthinkable that this little
nobody, this shabby, friendless, Dark Arts-loving weirdo, should be so indifferent to his substantial personal charms when the rest of the school swooned. It was more than unthinkable - it was untenable. Unacceptable. Infuriating. Just who the hell did Severus Snape think he was?

It was a question, Sirius realized now, that he'd been asking himself, on some level, for five-and-a-half years. A question that Snape was going to answer, soon...preferably whilst flat on his back, moaning like a slut, with Sirius's cock stuffed so far up his ass he couldn't swallow.

"Because he's Snape," Sirius nodded. "And I want him to know it."