Work Text:
I filled u-p-p-u-u-u-u-u-u-h pages
I filled up hummmm UP hummmm UP
I filled up up up up up upun pages up UP the field
hummmm / the field up I filled up the field
up hup hup upeeee up up I FILLED UP the meadow
WITH WORDS & flowers I filled up SPAT UP the field
its padded back / its inside leaves in layers I FILLED UP
to drown the farflung nails THE MATTRESS upward
I feint & SPAT UP & fell back in a black hole HUP
I filled up myself WITH MINE OWN TONGUE my hole up
wordhole godhole lovehole killhole
a whole thing / a wounded supine fawn in the road
my DOCKET OF WORDS / my FULL LAWNKILLER WINGS
my beakhole cockhole deerhole follicle
my filed taxform incarnate MYSELF WITH HOLES
—Marty Cain, “From Kids of the Black Hole”
Minerva invites him over for tea after school the week after he introduces her to Sirius, though she doesn’t say anything about bringing the man; Severus accepts gladly, somewhat unspeakably relieved that she’s still willing to speak to him at all. She’s dressed impeccably as always, in a striking flared dress of blue tartan, colorful beaded flats that split and flare up dramatically at the toe, and a red hat angled to one side. “Minerva!” he says, startled when she hugs him hello. “Er, hi.”
“Severus! Hi! Thanks for coming!” She kisses both his cheeks, then pulls away. “Come on, come sit. Let me serve you. How’s Sirius?”
Severus feels himself brighten further. “He’s well, thank you.”
“Good. Good.” Minerva bustles around with the tea tray, then sits down across from him. “You want to know something? I had absolutely no idea you were gay.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Even after you moved in with a man. It took me meeting him to—”
“That man is like the anti-closet,” Severus says, well aware of how fond he must sound, and Minerva laughs. “There’s no introducing him to people as a heterosexual friend.”
“No, there isn’t. But it wasn’t—it’s the way you look at him that made me sure. And then I thought back to some of the things you’ve said about him, and I felt like a bloody idiot.”
Severus sighs. “Yeah.”
“It’s not a bad thing.”
“It’s bloody inconvenient.”
“I’m happy for you,” Minerva says firmly. “You’re obviously head-over-heels in love with that man. Everyone deserves that.”
“Yeah.” Severus feels his mouth twitch. “You’re really okay with it?”
“Yes. I promise. I—I’m very grateful to you for trusting me enough to introduce me to him.”
“Well, he’s—” Severus rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, he’s—he’s never had to hide. I don’t think he should have to do it for me. He deserves to meet my friends.”
“Well, I’m honored that you consider me that close of a friend,” Minerva says firmly, and Severus manages a tentative smile. He still feels naked; he hadn’t expected to ever come out to Minerva, and he’d known that was what introducing her to Sirius would accomplish. Nobody who sees them together ever interprets them as anything other than a couple. He’s gotten used to getting derisive and scornful looks at the grocer’s, the post office, local restaurants, even when Sirius isn’t with him; but something about Minerva knowing feels different.
Jesus, I’m basically out of the closet at this point, Severus thinks blankly, and Minerva says, “Severus? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I—Lily knew. All my life. That was it. Lily knew, and the men I was with knew. And that was all. I never—I knew intellectually that there were people who were out, but I never thought I would be one of them. And then I met Sirius, and suddenly—” He buries his face in his hands, laughs without humor. “I don’t—random strangers know I’m gay now. I have multiple gay friends. Or at least—they’re Sirius’s friends, but—I think his friends might be turning into my friends too. Which is also—it’s like you said. I had you and Lily and Albus, and Albus barely counts. And now suddenly—I don’t—it’s good. It’s so good. I didn’t understand how good it would feel to be done hiding. I didn’t understand the extent to which it was hiding. I thought it just wasn’t anyone’s business, but I think—I was ashamed. I was so fucking ashamed. But Sirius doesn’t have an ounce of shame in his body. And I sort of realized—I admire him, you know? A lot. I respect him. I didn’t want to admit it at first, but he’s braver than I’ll ever be. And I—I just—I don’t know what to do. Because the further out of the closet I end up, the more dangerous things will become for me. But I don’t want to go back, either.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I—I guess not.” Severus laughs again, and finally looks at Minerva; her face is unbearably kind. “I just—I used to spend so much time hating unapologetic faggots like Sirius. And now I wonder… well, I wonder how much of that was envy.”
“That makes sense.” Minerva tilts her head. “I could always tell you were different from the other professors. I just thought it was because you were five times smarter than everyone else.”
“Oh. Er, thanks.”
“Thank you,” Minerva says earnestly. “For trusting me. It can’t have been easy.”
“No. No, it really wasn’t.”
“You shouldn’t have to hide,” Minerva says firmly. “I’m sorry you felt the need to. Though of course I understand.”
“Thanks,” Severus says, and rubs the back of his neck. “You’re really okay with it?”
“Yes. I promise. If anything, I’m happy that you felt like you could share this with me. How long have you known you were gay?”
“Oh, my whole life.” Severus looks away. “I guess I learned the word ‘gay’ when I was about—ten? Stonewall happened. And I heard about it. My mum and dad were—were in agreement. That it was bad. But suddenly people were talking about gay people as though that were something that happened. That were possible. And I knew it described me. But I never told anyone except Lily. I told her when we were fifteen. She was mad at first, actually. But she apologized. We moved on.” Severus runs a hand through his hair. “I never came out to my mother. I have no way of knowing if she knew.”
“I’m sorry.”
Severus shrugs. “It never felt important before. Not until I met him.”
“It is now?”
“It’s so much of his identity,” Severus says. “I don’t think I understood what a large part of mine it really was. That I was just… dying inside, every time Lockhart—”
“Jesus, you’ve been—I didn’t even think about that. I knew intellectually, but I didn’t—Jesus, that must have been awful.”
“Yeah.” Severus shrugs. “I dunno. I never expected to fall in love, let alone with someone so—I mean, my God, he and I are nothing alike.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Severus tilts his head in open curiosity, and Minerva smiles at him. “He’s as funny as you are.”
“Oh, he’s definitely funnier.”
Minerva’s mouth twitches. “Yeah. Anyway, he’s obviously as smart as you too. And he’s clearly pretty mean.”
“He’s a grade-A bitch of the highest order.”
“Is that what attracted you to him?”
Severus blinks, then rubs the back of his neck again. “He was… refreshing. He made me laugh. Nobody had ever made me laugh like that before. And he didn’t seem to be judging me, but he also seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say? And he works at a nonprofit helping people recover from being incarcerated, and—there were a lot of things. That attracted me to him. A lot of them. Probably—definitely including the fact that he was so unapologetically queer. But it’s—every time I learn anything new about him it just gets worse.”
“I see.” Minerva’s eyes are mirthful. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“No. No, Jesus, I’m so—so unbelievably and transcendentally fucking happy—I didn’t ever really imagine I even could be this happy. I love him like—he’s so openly who he is. And who he is is… bombastic. Flamboyant. He’s a clown. And being around him, the whole world feels… bigger. Like maybe—maybe everything isn’t unrelentingly fucking oppressive and awful, you know? Maybe there’s space for—if there’s room in this world for him to be the way he is, there might be room for me to be myself too.”
“Yeah.”
“Because I—I like that shit. I do. I want—we’ve done looks at the house, and I felt—well, I wasn’t admitting to myself how completely disconnected from my own culture I was. I was just… fucking dead inside. And I—I know I can’t come out at work or anything. But I don’t want to hide when I don’t have to anymore. So I—I thought I’d go ahead and tell you. Because I do… I trust you, Minerva. I hope you know that.”
“Figured that one out,” Minerva says. “But I’m still grateful.”
Severus smiles at her, and Minerva smiles back, and Severus shakes himself and asks her about herself, and they move on. But when he gets home he still has a lightness in his chest, a burning ember of hope that he’s never really felt before, at least not before this past couple of months. Ever since they started taking Bear out, really. Being out of the closet, or at least sticking his toes through the threshold, has released a harsh bundle of constant, primal tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying.
Sirius looks up at him from his spot on the couch. “Hey. How’d it go?”
“I think she might turn into an actual friend,” Severus says. “Not just a work friend.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, it is.” Severus realizes he’s grinning. “You really have made my life better in so many ways. So many bloody ways. Thank you for that.”
“Of course, baby. You’ve done the same for me, you know that, right?”
“Really?”
Whatever look is on his face makes Sirius’s go entirely soft. “Come here.”
Severus goes to him, or at least to the couch; Bear is taking up about half of it, his head in Sirius’s lap, and Snape picks up his hindquarters and deposits them atop himself. “There’s one example. You know how many of my old boyfriends resented the hell out of Bear?”
“How could anybody not like Bear?”
“They were jealous of him. They would get mad when he got between us in bed or on the couch. You started helping make his food within the first month. You treat him like—that’s part of why I fell so hard so fast, I think. He loved you immediately. He doesn’t like everyone.”
“Oh.”
“He finds you calming, I think. He likes calm people.” Sirius reaches out and laces their fingers together atop Bear’s back. “You’ve brought that sense of—there’s a deep quiet in you. A sense of deliberation and care that I never really took seriously before.”
“But you’re always Sirius.”
Sirius groans. “Severus.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Anyway,” Sirius says pointedly. “You make me so bloody happy. Never doubt that. And you make me a better person. Even if we hadn’t worked out, I’d always have been grateful that we tried. You’re really—I’m glad they did, because you make me feel really—really at peace with myself and the world in a way no one ever has.”
“Oh,” Severus says. “Well, I—I’m glad to hear it.”
“Good,” Sirius says firmly. “I really love you, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know. I love you, too.”
“I know.” Severus brings his hand up to his mouth and kisses it. “I’m so grateful you do.”
“Yeah,” Severus says. “Yeah, me too.” He sighs and stretches and stands. “Does somebody want a walk?”
Bear perks up, looking at Severus and thumping his tail. Sirius laughs as Severus pats his legs, and Bear bounds off the couch and comes to him. “You really do spoil that dog.”
“So do you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Sirius gives him an exceptionally gentle smile, watching as Severus clips Bear’s leash to his collar. “Let’s go, then. Race you.”
Severus grins, holds on tight, and runs.