Chapter Text
It’s not that Sirius expected anything else, after all.
It was obvious in all his decisions, and in all that he allowed to happen. He would love to blame Hogwarts for acknowledging him as a Gryffindor, but he knew that his actions started way before that. Maybe on his first train to Hogwarts, when he met the handsome, dark-skinned boy with black, messy hair, outstretched his hand towards him and said: ‘My mum said I can't speak to you. My name is Sirius, I think we should be friends.’ Or maybe it was even before that, when he, age ten, took home one of the Beatles’ vinyls. Or maybe even before that, when his cousin Andromeda told him with great worry in her face she fell in love with a muggle born, and eight years old Sirius just beamed at her, genuinely happy for her happiness.
Looking at it from the long-run perspective, his existence was doomed probably around the time he was born—and maybe even before that. His mother wasn't a sane person, but what could one expect after several centuries of close pureblood in-breeding. Sirius wasn't all that surprised to learn he meant nothing but shame to his family, being struck off the family pedigree. What was a mild surprise was that he actually felt hurt by it because when he imagined it, he’d envisaged he’ll be somewhat triumphant about it, proud of the man he’s become.
Deep in thoughts, he asked both his usual companions for some time alone—he wasn't feeling exactly good in his skin even before this debacle. With Venea publicly shaming him over his ‘whoring through his grades’, with all the shit that is homework and school because of their OWLs, and with the latest duel fuck-up with Snape, Sirius was just ready to sleep through the entire hols and waking up well after his academic career is over.
And above that, it was the full moon today, of course!
With this headache he didn't feel like thinking about anything emotionally withdrawing any more, and after a day full of wandering, he felt ready to face at least Prongs and Moony.
Speaking of the two, James could barely contain himself. He felt worried sick while wanting to help his best friend, be there for him, but Sirius just pleaded for the Cloak and some alone time. Usually, Remus would snort, and James would have told him to jerk off in the shower like the normal folks do, albeit this time James whispered a gentle ‘of course, of course, take your time’, and Remus gave him a soft smile that didn’t reach his sad, longing eyes. Being there for someone just simply meant you have to give them time and space.
Sirius holds his temples, his mind still at the horrific event of the duel with Snape, when he decided to walk back into the castle. Typically, he would be happy to chat with all those who decided to stay in for the Easter hols, flirting his way through his way up to the Gryffindor tower, maybe hexing a Slytherin or five on the road… but not today. With the Invisibility Cloak covering him, with silent, quick steps and with the knowledge of all the secret passages, he moves around Hogwarts unseen. For once, he’s happy about the blissful ignorance he’s provided with. His headache is getting so bad his eyes are getting sensitive, burning a little at the edges. He notices his hands are shivering and there’s a dull ache in his abdomen, but he swipes it under the rug as stress. He’ll snuggle with James and Remus and sleep it off, he’s sure it’s nothing serious. But as he enters the Basilisk Passage on the second floor, there’s a flash of pain in his head, right behind his eyes. It’s so severe he has to lean into the cold wall. He might actually start crying from the terrible pain—what the fuck is happening?! He whimpers and stops, as he gently massages his eyes in hope the pain subsides. He’s feeling dizzy, just like when he drinks too quickly on an empty stomach – but it can’t be that he didn’t drink since last weekend.
Another wave of pain strikes through his head, and he whimpers again, massaging at his temples this time.
“Who’s there?”
Sirius stops making noises and he actually freezes. Someone is at the end of the Passage, and even if Sirius can't open his eyes due to the pain to make sure, he’s fairly certain it’s Snivellus. (Funny, how it’s actually Sirius now, who is snivelling.)
“Show yourself,” Severus demands and takes off his wand.
Sirius wants to compose himself and say something dismissive, smart, and snarky, but the dizziness is more pressing than Sirius’ ego now. Without saying anything, he shakes off the Cloak, revealing his presence without knowing why. There’s a higher chance of Severus hurting him more than helping him.
“Black,” Severus takes a step back, as he looks completely startled at the boy who just appeared out of nowhere just a few meters from where he was standing. He notices the Cloak falling to the ground, realizes that his enemy was under it, and raises his wand again. “What are you doing here?!”
Sirius doesn't answer, he just clutches his fists over his eyes. The pain is one thing, but his eyes burning and the skin around it getting itchy is quite another. Over his pain and the hum in his head he can't hear, or his brain just chooses to ignore it completely. Severus finally realizes there’s something not right with the spoiled git.
“Black,” his voice is still cold and accusing, but there’s a tentative edge to it.
Being uncharacteristically late to analyse this situation—which, with the Marauders, he tends to—Snape realizes that showing himself while previously hidden under an illegal, powerful object that Invisible Cloak definitely is, wouldn't really be one’s first option, especially if speaking about the imbecile squad of illiterate mouflons that call themselves the Marauders.
Is he in, Severus squints and takes a chary step forward to see better in the gloom of old Passage, pain…?
Severus has seen the Marauders do crazier shit than to pretend they are hurt to catch their victim into the death-trap of the sharp punchline of their prank, sure, however when he focuses on the Black heir, he can feel it—his core feels… somehow wrong. He smells something sweet of great power, something that isn't—it’s not right… it doesn't -
Severus looks around, but there’s noone. Not that he’s surprised, with the Easter hols the castle is nearly empty, hence he doesn't expect he can pass this responsibility to someone else. There’s a glimpse of thought about just leaving him here as well, but…
Closing the distance to the whimpering Gryffindor, Snape takes the risk. “What hurts.”
It’s not even a question, but Severus came here to help the asshole, not make friends with him.
“Eyes,” Sirius mumbles, still palming at his eyes.
“Headache, too?” Severus asks and opens his bag.
“I don't– I don't know, just–just hurts. Eyes hurt,” Sirius tries to explain as best he can through the obvious pain.
“You drunk?” Severus asks, his tone unaffected, cold, really.
“No–no,” Sirius says resolutely, even shaking his head a bit.
Snape takes his wand and runs a simple analysing spell on the Gryffindor but comes up blank. Whatever it is, it’s going to be either a poison, or something more complicated.
“Fucking idiots,” Severus mutters as he observes the boy, his brain running a million miles per hour analysing what could help in this situation. Grumbling further, he looks inside his bag. “Engaging with objects and situations they are unfamiliar with without any attainment, or just using their brain first.”
Typically, this would be enough for Black to raise his wand in a start of a dangerous duel even in the middle of this enchanted Passage, however Black doesn't even appear to be listening to the Slytherin, let alone taking offence in it.
Burning eyes, lack of judgement, pain paralysis, and something sweet, powerful, with depth, colour… red, maybe magenta…? Dragon fruit, perhaps? Severus matches all symptoms in his head, making assumptions, but it will do for now. He will deliberately transfer the passed-out asshole to the infirmary for Pomfrey to deal with right after, and then continue with his life.
Dragon fruit, then, Severus nods to himself as he reaches into his bag. He tends to carry around an antidote or two. You never know with the Marauders running this school. “I sense Dragon fruit, which is often the main additive for--!”
“SIRI!”
Rolling his eyes at the interruption as well as realization of what is coming, Severus raises his wand without thinking, as he waits for the Dumb and Dumber to come running straight to them.
“Siri, what’s wrong?!” Potter is immediately at Black’s side, touching his arm. “Siri?”
“Pads,” Lupin comes right behind, his wand raised, but not at Severus particularly— he seems to be more cautious to the situation.
When Black takes a while to speak or react in any way, Potter immediately turns to Snape. “What did you do to him, Snivellus?!”
Hating the little nickname, the Slytherin thinks about turning around and leaving since there are people who can deal with the idiot without embodying him, but there’s just something about the situation that won't let Severus retreat that fast.