Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tap, tap, tap.

Severus’ eye twitched at the soft patter of drizzle against the windowpane, his gaze fixed on the warm mug cradled between his hands. The kitchen was dim, the first light of the early day only beginning to tint the horizon.

Summer was nearly over now, and the Mediterranean heat had slowly melted into the rainy season. It was still warmer than the cold grey of Scotland, or back where Severus grew up in Midlands. He found this comforting, if anything.

Or he would have, had he not been as knackered as he was.

In the past several months, Severus had learned quite a bit. The first thing had been that, against his own reservations, parenthood suit him. From the moment Aster was born, all of Severus’ doubts about his own abilities to care for a child had vanished, being replaced by a feral, raw kind of love. From the moment he held Aster in his arms for the first time, he knew, without doubt, that he would do anything for him.

Still, it had been a surprise.

After all, he had long been known—perhaps even taken a touch of pride in it, back in his Hogwarts days—as the sort of man children feared. And while that had served him well enough as a teacher, he’d often worried it might mean his own child would grow to loathe him too.

But as it turned out, it was different when it was your own.

Those first weeks, though exhausting, had been manageable. Both he and Sirius had adapted quickly, and the sleepless nights were softened by shared effort and mutual awe with the arrival of their baby.

But now, at nine months, Aster was finishing teething, as well as not taking well to being left alone in the nursery overnight. The usually calm, content baby was fussy and sore these days, his distress difficult to soothe.

Severus took a long sip of his coffee, its bitterness grounding him. The shadows beneath his eyes had deepened again, darker than they'd been in years. This was a different kind of exhaustion than what he’d known during the war. Gentler, yes. But exhaustion, all the same.

Lost in thought, Severus barely registered Sirius padding into the kitchen. The animagus moved sluggishly, dragging his feet until he collapsed into the chair opposite him with a weary groan. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a long sigh.

“He’s finally asleep,” Sirius mumbled, stifling a yawn behind the back of his hand. “The potion you gave him must have finally kicked in.”

Only then did Severus look up, his eyes skimming over Sirius’ bare chest, the full extension of his tattooed skin just there on full display for him to take and drink in. He pressed his lips into a thin line, subtly adjusting his posture as he shifted in his seat.

“It should soothe him for a while,” Severus replied, nodding faintly. “Did you lose your nightshirt?”

“It’s too warm for one,” Sirius muttered as he stretched, wincing when his spine cracked with a soft pop. “Is there any coffee left? I don’t think I can fall asleep again.”

With a lazy flick of his wand, Severus summoned a mug from the cupboard and filled it, sliding it across the table without a word. Sirius accepted it with a mumbled thanks and took a long, grateful sip.

“Honestly, he has slept… three hours?” he murmured, drinking greedily from the mug. “Shouldn’t we just… I don’t know, use a charm on him or something?”

Severus didn’t even hesitate. “Bring your wand near my child and I’ll hex you into next week, mutt,” he groused, shooting a sharp glare at the other man.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Oi, I meant for his sake.”

Severus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “He’ll settle eventually. In the meantime, we just need to…” He waved a hand vaguely, the gesture as tired as his voice.

“...not sleep either?” Sirius finished, grimacing. He set the mug down and let his head drop to the table with a dull thud. “I haven’t been this groggy since I was on the run.”

Severus closed his eyes and leaned his cheek against his fist, elbow propped on the table. “I can’t say I don’t know what you mean… I think I actually slept more when I was a double agent.”

A chuckle came from Sirius’ lips, and he turned his face to look at Severus from where he rested it on the table. “Parenthood is not easy, isn’t?”

It wasn’t. But even so, Severus found himself smiling, just a little. “No, it really isn’t.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason our parents hated us,” Sirius joked lightly, lifting his head. “Maybe we were light sleepers too.”

Severus snorted. “I think there were... other reasons.”

It was easier these days to speak of the past. Easier to remember without flinching. In the quiet rhythm of his new life, the pain had dulled, softened by time and purpose. He still had his bad days, those stretches where melancholy wrapped itself around him like an old, familiar cloak, but they came less often now. Life had a way of demanding his full attention, especially now.

Across the table, Sirius folded his arms and rested his chin on them. His gaze wandered absently around the kitchen—until it landed on the small calendar tacked beside the sink.

His eyes widened slightly.

“Oh,” he murmured.

Severus followed Sirius’ gaze to the calendar, then looked back at him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sirius said, a tired, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s just been a year.”

Severus blinked, brow creasing. “A year?”

“Yeah.” Sirius tilted his head slightly. “Since I found you.”

A soft breath escaped Severus, almost a gasp, as his eyes drifted back to the calendar. It was true. With everything that happened since then, he’d slipped so completely into the pace of their life together that it was hard to imagine it had ever been any other way.

“A year,” he murmured, more to himself than anything. “It’s… hard to believe.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sirius chuckled quietly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry—I should’ve planned something. I just realized.”

“There’s no need,” Severus said quietly, his voice thin, heart suddenly thudding faster in his chest. “I think we’ve both been a little too preoccupied with more important things.”

“Yeah,” Sirius murmured, then paused—just watching him. Really watching. And Severus felt the weight of it, nearly making him squirm in place.

“It’s crazy to think about,” Sirius went on, his voice softer now. “A year ago, I was just hoping to find you.” He chuckled under his breath, eyes drifting to the side as memory pulled at him. “And now… look at us. Building a life together. Our child sleeping upstairs.”

Severus swallowed, the knot in his throat tightening.

Before Sirius had found him, there had been nothing. No direction. No comfort. Just guilt and grief, haunting him at every turn. Just survival for the sake of a child he hadn’t even met yet.

Now there was a crib. A nursery. Bottles to clean, nappies to change. There was a man sitting across from him, as exhausted and happy as he himself was, the same man who had searched for him when no one else had, and stayed.

“What do you say we go back to bed?” Sirius asked, a hopeful glint in his tired eyes. “We might even get a couple of hours to ourselves before—”

A wail split the air upstairs, making them both flinch.

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he stood with a long, resigned sigh. “Never mind,” he muttered, already turning toward the hallway.

Severus watched him for a moment, then made to rise as well. “I’ll go.”

“Nah, don’t worry. Finish your coffee.” Sirius waved him off, circling the table and then leaned down to press a quick kiss to Severus’ mouth, lingering there just long enough to make Severus’ eyes flutter. “Love you,” he murmured against his lips.

Severus accepted the kiss, too stunned to respond to Sirius’ words. Instead, his gaze followed him as he disappeared up the stairs. Once he was left alone, Severus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his eyes drifting toward the faded yellow calendar still pinned beside the sink.

A year.

A year since everything changed. Since Sirius had found him and, somehow, convinced him to hope again.

It wasn’t in Severus’ nature to be sentimental. But something stirred in him now, quiet and persistent. He couldn’t name it, not exactly. Gratitude, perhaps. Contentment, certainly.

Above all, love.

With a soft sigh, Severus finished the last of his coffee, then vanished the mug with a flick of his wand. He stood slowly, the stillness of the morning settling around him like a cozy blanket. Maybe next year, they could try to mark the day properly with something simple. Severus had learned, in the months they'd lived together, that Sirius had a soft spot for gestures, the mutt being far more of a romantic than he himself was.

Without dwelling on the thought, Severus climbed the stairs, hoping that if he lay down again, he might still be able to fall asleep. He would need all the rest he could get if he hoped to avoid blowing up a cauldron later.

But just as he was about to turn toward their bedroom, a faint sound drifted from the nursery. He paused mid-step, brows knitting, and listened. There it was again, the soft, melodic hum. After a moment of hesitation, his feet moved on their own, drawn toward the half-open door.

The sight that greeted him stole the breath from his lungs.

The light of early morning spilled through the window, casting golden beams across the nursery floor. Sirius stood in the middle of the room—the same one he had lovingly decorated just months ago—Aster nestled securely in his arms. There was a soft glow around them, dust motes dancing lazily in the air.

And then Severus realized: Sirius was singing.

A gentle, wordless tune hummed low in his chest, a lullaby barely audible over the soft coos and gurgles coming from the baby as he was rocked back and forth. Aster sighed contently into the crook of his father’s neck, his thumb tucked in his mouth, eyes fluttering closed, one chubby hand tangled securely in a loose chestnut curl.

Severus leaned quietly against the doorframe, a hand lifting to rest over his chest as he took in the scene.

A year ago, he’d thought something like this would never be possible. And now, here he stood, watching his partner cradle their child with such gentleness, such love, that Severus felt his heart ache with the fullness of it.

Quietly, so as not to disturb them, he stepped away from the door and made his way back to their bedroom, eyes nearly prickling with tears that he was too proud to admit they were there. But how could they not be, when this—this life, this love—was everything he had ever wanted?

With a quiet sigh, Severus wiped beneath his eyes with a knuckle, shaking his head as the beginnings of a soft smile tugged at his lips. He was getting sentimental with age, wasn’t he? Or perhaps, after all the pain, he was still learning how to exist inside happiness.

Either way, he thought, even if that were true, it was worth it. All of it. Just to be here now. Breathing and living at that very moment.

The door clicked gently shut behind him. He turned, startled, eyes wide as he caught sight of Sirius entering the room. The man paused mid-step, blinking at him, concern immediately crossing his features.

“He’s asleep… again,” Sirius said slowly, cautiously stepping forward. “You okay, Sev?”

Severus opened his mouth, then closed it again. The smile that had been threatening finally broke through, warming his face. In two sure strides, he closed the distance between them, hands rising to cradle Sirius’ face.

Without a word, Severus leaned in and kissed him.

It was deep and grounding, nothing more than a firm touch of lips. Severus sighed through his nose, eyes fluttering shut. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against Sirius’.

There was so much he wanted to say, too many emotions that he didn’t feel capable to express in words.

“I love you,” he said instead.

Sirius was still catching up, slightly stunned, but his arms had already found their way around Severus’ waist, drawing him in until he was pressed against him, both melting into each other.

“Love you too,” Sirius murmured, brushing a kiss against Severus’ eyelid. “You sure you’re alright?”

Severus hummed, nuzzling his nose against Sirius’ with quiet affection. “Never better.”

They stayed like that for a moment, Severus’ arms looped loosely around Sirius’ neck, a quiet sigh of contentment escaping his lips. Their mouths found each other again naturally, deeper and hungrier this time, the need to be close suddenly consuming Severus.

“Sev,” Sirius murmured, threading his fingers into Severus’ long hair, his lips warm and sure as they moved against Severus’ again and again.

Severus smiled against Sirius’ lips, responding eagerly, meeting each and every single one of those kisses. He began walking backward, pulling Sirius with him, his hands caressing each inch of naked skin that they could reach.

In their distraction, they failed to navigate the room properly in the low light. The backs of Severus’ legs bumped hard against the nightstand, sending the glass of water atop it tumbling to the floor. It shattered with a sharp, unmistakable crash, followed by silence.

They froze, lips still touching, like someone had cast an Arresto Momentum on the moment itself, and then, the inevitable wail pierced the stillness, echoing from the nursery down the hall.

Sirius broke the kiss, laughter rumbling low in his chest. “Looks like the celebration will have to wait.”

“So it seems,” Severus murmured, chuckling as he rested his head briefly against Sirius’ chest.

With one last kiss, Severus stepped back from the embrace. “I’ll go settle him. You should take the chance to sleep a little,” he said with amusement, giving Sirius a teasing glance as he patted his cheek fondly. “Merlin knows you need your beauty rest.”

“As if you don’t,” Sirius shot back with a grin, flopping onto the bed without grace. “I’ll wait for you here, alright? Awake.”

Severus snorted. They both knew Sirius would be asleep before he even reached the nursery. But that was alright.

A year ago, he wouldn't have believed this life could be his. Now, they had the rest of it ahead of them.

At the doorway, Severus paused and glanced back. Sirius was already curling onto his side, eyes drifting shut, one arm sprawled lazily across the bed. A faint, contented smile still played on his lips.

With a quiet smile of his own, Severus turned and stepped into the hallway, the soft cries of their son guiding him forward, into everything he never thought he’d have, and everything he now couldn’t imagine living without.

Chapter Text

It all began, as it so often did, with one of Sirius’ ideas.

Really, he should have known better by now, should have known that his plans always inevitably ended in trouble, or more precisely, in him being in trouble. By all means, phrases like “Want to bet on it?” should have been banned from his vocabulary long time ago, purely for the sake of self-preservation.

But in that moment, it just felt like a game, like a small, harmless thing to brighten their already peaceful life.

Their first year as parents was slowly coming to an end. Aster was nearly eleven months old, and with their family settled, they’d begun planning a quiet Christmas at home.

Sirius knew it would just be the three of them, and he was perfectly content with that. This was his life now, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. In fact, he was genuinely looking forward to it, to their first holiday as a family.

Still, after everything they’d been through, the idea of making it even more special began to take root in Sirius’s mind. Christmas had always been his favourite holiday, after all, and after some thought, he began to wonder if it might be out of place to take it one step further and celebrate it somewhere new.

Sirius didn’t have anything crazy in mind, all things considered. He knew Severus would never agree to set foot in England, but that didn’t rule out the rest of Europe, did it? There were plenty of countries where they’d be just as anonymous as they were in Greece. Even if Severus was wary of wizarding communities, they could always stay on the Muggle side. It might even be fun pretending to be Muggles, just as they so often did on visits to Heraklion or other nearby towns.

He could already picture it: a small Christmas market, snow all around, Severus holding Aster in his arms while the child stared wide-eyed at the colourful decorations. Germany, Sweden, even Austria, any of them could be the perfect destination. Somewhere quiet, somewhere they weren’t known and they could blend in as easily as they did in Greece.

And deep down, Sirius believed that even a grump like Severus would be secretly happy if he was to propose such a plan.

But secretly was the key word in that sentence. Severus was still far too cautious about their safety and staying hidden, and Sirius knew full well that convincing him wouldn’t be easy. The man didn’t take kindly to change, especially the spontaneous kind.

So, Sirius started thinking about a way to butter him up, to warm him to the idea by proposing it so perfectly that not even Severus would be able to really say no to it.

As it turned out, that moment came on its own.

The fire crackled softly in the living room, casting a warm amber glow across the plush rug spread out on the floor. Sirius sat cross-legged on it, watching as Aster played with his animal toys, completely absorbed in bashing an elephant against the floor.

“Dada,” Sirius coaxed, tapping his own chest with an insistent finger. “Come on, pup—Dada.”

Aster looked up at him with wide, grey eyes, his pearly baby teeth showing in a happy grin. “Ba!”

Sirius laughed, heart softening at the sound. “Almost there, pup. You’re getting closer.”

Severus walked into the room, a clattering crate of bottles in his arms, and he observed the scene before him with an amused smile. He had been holed up in the basement for hours, trying to get as much done as possible before the holiday season fully arrived.

Sirius hoped he wouldn’t be too exhausted afterward, as he was planning a long, private catch-up in their bedroom later. When he’d hinted at it earlier, Severus had only sneered in response, but hadn’t actually objected, which gave Sirius the impression that his partner was pleased with the idea too.

And maybe, once they were basking in the afterglow, he could even slip in the idea of a little Christmas trip, just the three of them away for a few days. It was a good plan, a solid, well-rounded one if he said so himself.

Severus advanced to the centre of the room, placing the crate on a nearby chair, before he patted off the dust off his hands. Then, he stood there, darting his eyes from Sirius to Aster and back to Sirius, a fist resting lightly on his hip.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Sirius glanced up at him. “What does it look like? I’m teaching him to call for me!” he said with a grin.

Severus rolled his eyes fondly as he rubbed two fingers together, brushing away lingering woodchips from the crate.

“He’s still too young to say ‘mutt,’ but don’t worry, he’ll get there,” he snorted.

“Ha, bloody ha,” Sirius muttered, turning back to their son.

“Don’t swear in front of him,” Severus hissed immediately, lips pressing into a disapproving scowl.

Sirius waved him off. “If he’s too young to say mutt, I doubt he’ll be repeating bloody anytime soon,” he said with a grin, earning him a glare that was sharp enough to make Padfoot lower his ears.

But then Aster’s gaze shifted from Sirius to Severus, and his eyes lit up with sudden excitement. With a delighted squeal, he raised his chubby hands toward him, babbling and cooing. Severus’ attention snapped to his son, and the change was immediate. His face softened, as it always did around Aster, all irritation vanishing as he moved carefully, kneeling on the floor next to Sirius.

“Hello, little one,” Severus murmured, reaching for the infant before settling him into his lap, the image itself making Sirius’ heart swell with affection.

“Bababababa…” Aster gurgled happily, pressing his face into Severus’ shirt.

Sirius chuckled fondly. “See? He’s really trying to speak.”

“That’s what all babies do at his age… I think,” Severus replied, his fingers gently brushing over the soft hair atop Aster’s head. “But he does seem particularly eager.”

And just like that, the idea struck him.

It was the perfect opportunity, not only to get back at Severus for his earlier jab but also to start planting the seed of his Christmas plan. Two birds with one stone, as the Muggles liked to say. Besides, he couldn’t help it, it was too much fun to poke at Severus’ stoicism every now and then, watching him go all soft and flustered in response for a change.

“He’s totally going to call for me first,” Sirius said with a smirk, leaning in until he was eye level with Aster, nestled in Severus’ lap.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “And what makes you think that?” he asked dryly.

“Oh, you know,” Sirius said, waving a hand, eyes twinkling. “I can turn into a dog. It only makes sense he’d call for me or Padfoot first.”

“You’re a mutt,” Severus muttered, summoning a tissue to dab at the baby’s spit-covered mouth.

“I think that’s enough of that,” Sirius grumbled, his frow burrowing slightly.

“You started it,” Severus replied with a sigh, shifting Aster more securely into his lap as he vanished the napkin with a flick of his fingers. “Besides, it doesn’t matter who he calls first…”

There it was—the game was on.

“Want to bet on it?” Sirius asked, lips curling into a Cheshire-cat grin.

Severus’ eye twitched slightly. “You want to bet on our son?”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a grump,” Sirius said breezily. “It’s just harmless fun.”

“And what exactly do you propose we bet on?” Severus’ eyes were narrowed into slits now, and Sirius could practically see the gears turning behind those unfathomable eyes.

Sirius’ grin was so wide it actually hurt. “You see, I was thinking—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Severus cut in.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Sirius protested, throwing his hands up.

Severus scoffed. “I know your thinking. And if you say anything even remotely inappropriate, you’ll be spending every night for the foreseeable future on the sofa.”

“Circe’s tits, Sev—no!” Sirius groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically.

“Language!” Severus chastised again, exasperation now in his voice.

“Right, right,” Sirius muttered sheepishly before pushing himself up onto his elbows, now smirking again. “What I was going to say is… if I win, we take a trip for Christmas. Celebrate the holiday somewhere abroad.”

Severus’ expression darkened instantly, and Sirius realized far too late that he’d introduced the idea in the worst possible way. He sat up at once, one arm already slipping around Severus’ shoulders in an attempt to soothe him.

“Not England,” he said quickly, feeling Severus tense under his touch and begin to pull away. Sirius held him firmly, refusing to let go, and continued talking softly. “I was thinking somewhere like Munich. Or Vienna. Just a few days, pretending to be Muggles, like we do here sometimes.”

Severus didn’t relax completely, but the stiffness in his shoulders eased. “And why, exactly, would we do that?”

“It… could be fun?” Sirius said gently, rubbing his hand along Severus’ upper arm. “Our first proper family outing.”

Severus bit his lip, clearly considering it. Then, after a pause, he whispered, “And what if I win?”

“What?” Sirius blinked at him, caught off guard.

“You said it was a bet,” Severus continued evenly. “So, what happens if I win?”

“Oh.” Sirius hadn’t actually expected to get this far with that little convincing. “Well… then you get to choose. Whatever you want.”

“Mmm.” Severus hummed, and just like that, the hesitation vanished from his face.

Now, that was worrying.

“…Okay, now I’m a little nervous,” Sirius muttered, eyeing him warily.

“Well,” Severus said, fingers gently combing through Aster’s dark hair, his tone thoughtful, “if I win, we spend Christmas here and you do all the cooking.”

“Oh?” Sirius rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands. “That’s it? Easy.”

A smug smirk curved Severus’ lips. “The Muggle way,” he added, gaze triumphant as Sirius’ face fell. “No magic. A full Christmas meal, start to finish, like a proper non-magical household.”

“What!?” Sirius stared at him, mouth agape. “That’s insane!”

“Muggle housewives have been doing it for generations, Black,” Severus said dryly as he let Aster grab at his fingers, one digit slowly caressing the baby’s palm. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“But…” Sirius hesitated.

“That’s my side of the bargain,” Severus concluded, pressing a lingering kiss to Aster’s crown before settling him gently on the floor. The baby immediately returned to his toys, happily babbling. “If you want to go through with your fu—foolish little bet,” Severus corrected smoothly, barely missing a beat, “that’s the deal.”

Sirius settled back down, eyes fixed on Severus. That definitely wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment suggestion, he could tell. But it was a bet, wasn’t it? And Sirius was more than ready to fight for his little dream of a holiday.

“Fine,” he said at last, extending a hand toward his partner. “You’ve got a deal, even though I find it quite unfair…”

“Oh?” Severus shook on it, the same smile still playing on his lips, eyes twinkling teasingly. “Afraid you’re too much of a pure blood to manage a single meal without magic?” he purred.

Merlin, how he loved that man.

Without hesitation, Sirius leaned in and captured his mouth in a deep, lingering kiss, one that Severus melted into naturally, fingers twisting into his shirt, eyes closed in that rare, relaxed way that put Sirius’ remaining doubts at rest.

They stayed like that for a moment, trading a few slow, lazy kisses, sighing through their noses, until Severus finally pulled slightly away to breathe properly. Sirius stroked a hand through the black, lanky hair, threading his fingers in the strands, enjoying the fact that it was longer than usual these days.

“Now, that’s the correct way to seal a deal,” he murmured with a grin, rubbing his nose affectionately against Severus’.

“You’re a lost cause,” Severus said silkily, pulling back from the embrace and rising to his feet with a faint wince. Clearing his throat, Severus straightened up, his usual calm demeanour sinking in once more. “Anyway, I still have potions to finish. Can I trust you to feed Aster and get lunch started? Consider it practice for your promising new career as a chef,” he added with a sneer.

“And here I thought you didn’t have a sense of humour,” Sirius snorted. “Go on then, play with your cauldrons. I’ve got this,” he said, waving him off.

Severus’ eyes glinted dangerously, playfully almost, before he shook his head and slipped out of the room, heading to the basement. Sirius rubbed the back of his neck, a knowing smile on his lips. He loved when Severus got like that, and he was fairly certain he’d love it even more once the lights were out later in the day.

For now, he flopped onto the rug, lying on his belly as he turned his attention back to Aster.

“Well, pup,” Sirius said, watching as Aster shoved a toy into his mouth before he gently pulled it away and wiped it with a flick of his wand. “We’ve got work to do if we want that holiday, don’t you think?”

Aster’s gaze was wide as he looked at him, babbling a stream of unintelligible sounds that Sirius couldn’t make out what it meant, but didn’t matter anyway. The plan was in motion, and he had time. Now, it was only a matter to see if Aster would make him win the bet.

The next week passed in a blur, Christmas approaching quickly. The bet still hung on the air, and Sirius used every chance he got during playtime with Aster, trying to coax the word dada -or dada, he wasn’t really picky at this point- out of him. He even upped his game with bribery, sneaking honeyed pastries from a bakery in Heraklion, offering bites as encouragement whenever Aster managed to babble something remotely close to the sound he desperately wanted to hear.

Needless to say, Severus ended up catching him red-handed, and delivered a spectacular scolding, complete with a scowl so sharp that it would send even Voldemort cowering away in fear.

“Are you planning to rot his teeth as much as your brain clearly is?” he had snapped, plucking the pastry from Sirius’ hand before swatting him with that day’s newspaper on the head.

After that, Sirius backed down a bit. Maybe he’d been pushing a little too hard, and it was just better to let Aster talk at his own pace. And truthfully, the child was more and more eager, filling the house with cheerful nonsense babbling that never failed to make Sirius chuckle (Aster was definitely like him in that aspect, or so Severus liked to remind him every time).

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the moment their son spoke his first real word.

It happened on a cozy evening after dinner. They were all curled up in the living room, Sirius relaxing on the sofa with a book resting on his lap as his eyes were lost in the fire, Severus dozing lightly against his side with Aster nestled on his chest, warm and quiet and heavy with sleep.

Sirius glanced down, smiling at the sight. Not long ago, Severus had been reading too, levitating a thick tome in front of him, but as sleep started to pull him in, the book had begun to wobble in the air, the spell barely holding on as the man’s eyes drifted shut.

“Should we head to bed?” Sirius murmured, catching the heavy book just in time before it dropped onto Severus’ face. “You’re both falling asleep on me.”

Severus made a soft sound of protest, blinking slowly as he stirred. He shifted, cradling Aster gently as he pushed himself upright. “Yeah,” he mumbled, yawning as he adjusted the baby against his shoulder. “Let’s go, Little one…”

“Ma.”

They both froze, Severus’ eyes flew open as he turned to look at Sirius, then down at Aster, blinking owlishly. The baby yawned, burrowing further into Severus’ chest, though his eyes were now open and alert.

For a long moment, neither of them dared to move, and they simply stared at Aster, then at each other, holding their breath.

“Did he...?” Sirius asked quietly.

Severus gave a short nod, just as stunned. “He—”

“Mama,” Aster said again, this time clearly, reaching up with a hand to touch Severus’ face. “Mamamamama…”

Severus’ mouth parted slightly, and Sirius felt his heart clench at the emotion he saw in those eyes as he looked down at their child, the tiniest of smiles tugging at those thin lips.

“Aster,” he called softly, raising one hand to cradle the baby’s head carefully. “Are you calling me?”

Aster responded with a sleepy coo, burrowing his face into Severus’ chest and gurgling contentedly. Severus hummed, and pressed their son tightly against his chest, grabbing the small hand between his and kissing the palm that reached for his chin. The child wriggled happily, his little mouth slobbering on Severus’ shoulder.

Sirius shifted on the cushions until he was seated as well, slipping an arm around Severus’ waist and drawing them both close once more.

“Well, it seems you won the bet,” he said gently as he gazed at their son, a smile appearing on his lips before eying Severus from the corner of his eye.

To his surprise, Severus didn’t look smug about being called first, nor he gloated about winning, either. Instead, his expression was tender, eyes closed as he held Aster close, his nose buried in the baby’s black curls. “Little one,” he murmured, the words barely more than a breath, reverent and full of warmth.

It was the kind of moment Sirius thought could change a person’s Patronus—at least, it felt like that to him.

With a sigh, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to Severus’ shoulder before letting his head rest there, suddenly needing the contact. “You know what? I think it’s worth not going on that trip, just to see you like this, all soft and mushy.”

“Oh, do shut up,” Severus muttered, but his lips twitched into a faint, trembling smile as he cast a sidelong glare at Sirius. “You’d have been sobbing if he’d called you first.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sirius chuckled, gaze drifting to the baby, now content in Severus’ arms. “Looks like we’ll be staying in for Christmas… with the pleasure of my brilliant cooking.”

“Indeed,” Severus replied, gently rocking Aster until the baby began to drift off again. His gaze was faraway, thoughtful as he watched their son. “Funnily enough, I almost wish you had won the bet,” he added softly.

Sirius snorted. “Already afraid I’ll poison you by accident?”

“I’ll make sure to brew a digestive potion,” Severus muttered with a smirk, letting his weight rest more fully against Sirius. He was quiet for a moment, then resumed speaking, his fingers gently brushing over Aster’s cheek, tracing the curve of his tiny nose. “I do want to spend Christmas here, but… maybe getting away wouldn’t have been so bad after all.”

He hid his face behind his hair then, and Sirius stared, wide-eyed. “Really?”

Severus didn’t look at him, but he gave a shy nod, and Sirius could see the tips of Severus’ ears glowing slightly red. “Just… not at Christmas.”

As much as Sirius was tempted to tease him further, he held back. Maybe he should have just asked Severus outright, instead of coming up with a convoluted bet.

“Alright,” Sirius said softly, scooting closer and pressing a kiss to the side of Severus’ neck, right over his scar, before giving him a gentle squeeze. “Might be nice to celebrate your old age in a new place.”

“You’re older than me, you idiotic mutt,” Severus muttered, but he took a deep breath and finally turned to face Sirius, his expression calm once more. “In any case, I’ll take Aster to bed.”

“Yeah, he’s completely out,” Sirius chuckled, reaching over to brush a hand lightly over their sleeping son’s head. He slowly unwrapped his arms from around Severus, letting him rise and quietly head up the stairs.

Later, once they’d made their way to the bedroom to settle in for the night, Sirius could still feel the day’s emotions rumbling inside him. He was ecstatic, he couldn’t help it. Their child had said his first word, and Severus had agreed to go on a trip. All in all, it had been a day of milestones.

Still, a small doubt lingered in the back of his mind.

“Not that I mind...” he began as he changed into his nightshirt, plopping down on the bed and leaning casually on one elbow. “But why did you want to stay here for Christmas?”

Severus hummed noncommittally, busy undoing his own shirt, revealing pale shoulders and chest to Sirius’ gaze. “No reason in particular.”

“Right,” Sirius rolled his eyes, resting his chin on a closed fist. “As if you ever do or say anything without a reason.”

Severus gave him a slight glare and scoffed as he carefully folded his shirt before changing into his night trousers. “It’s...” he began, then trailed off, jaw tightening visibly.

Sirius exhaled through his nose. “Look, fine. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s alright. I just don’t get why you’re suddenly being all mysterious…”

Severus gave a vague shrug, then sighed and shook his head. Wordlessly, he crossed the room and sat at the edge of the bed, bare-chested, his back to Sirius and his hands gripping the mattress tightly.

“If you must know, I’ve never celebrated Christmas,” he said quietly, barely more than a whisper, his hair falling forward to shield his face. “Not with family, anyway.”

Sirius froze. “What?”

“You heard me,” Severus muttered.

“But... why?” Sirius asked, slowly sitting up beside him.

“Because,” Severus began, and Sirius could tell that, without meaning to, he had touched on a difficult topic. “When I was growing up, things were… difficult. We were… poor and miserable, not exactly the ideal setting for a joyful celebration.”

Sirius swallowed hard, shifting until he was sitting behind Severus, his brow furrowed with concern. “Sev...”

“I thought...” Severus exhaled slowly, and the hollowness in his voice made Sirius’ chest tighten. “Now that we’re... a family, I wanted to celebrate it here. Together.”

Sirius leaned in, his hand gently resting on his arm. He didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t. For now, he kept listening, caressing Severus’ upper arm with his thumb.

“Christmas was always a sad time for me,” Severus whispered. His shoulders trembled slightly, his head tilting downward, gaze lost somewhere on the ceiling. “I usually stayed at Hogwarts. It wasn’t terrible there, but still...” He waved a hand vaguely.

Sirius felt the inevitable pang of guilt, remembering how things used to be before they ever became what they were now. The years he and James spent mocking the quiet, awkward boy who would one day become the centre of his world.

It made him sick with regret, and he bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry…” he muttered.

Severus glanced over his shoulder at him, then turned away again, staring at the far side of the room. “I just remember wondering why I couldn’t have a normal family, like everyone else around seemed to have.”

Sirius couldn’t blame him. Even though he hadn’t suffered the same level of abuse or neglect as Severus had, the Black family had never been a source of joy. Christmas had always been a stiff, snobbish affair among other noble families, usually filled with his mother’s venomous remarks about how he failed to live up to her expectations.

“I just want Aster to have it,” Severus said quietly, pulling Sirius from his memories. “A happy, normal home. The kind we never had,” he took a deep breath, shaking his head. “I know it’s ridiculous—a man my age... to even think—”

“Shut up, please…” Sirius couldn’t pass the words pass the lump on his throat. “There’s nothing to apologize for, I…”

He could barely breathe, and to his surprise, his eyes burned with unshed tears. Merlin, he was a right berk. How had he not thought of this? He wanted to kick himself for being so blind.

Back when they had first gotten together, Severus had hinted at certain things about his family. Not enough for a full picture, but enough for Sirius to piece together that things had been hard… and the belt marks on his back had spoken louder than any words ever could.

Sirius still remembered the sickening twist in his stomach when he saw them for the first time, the overwhelming urge to march to Severus’ home and hex his father straight back into the gutter he’d crawled out of.

There was little he could do about it now, though. To his knowledge, Severus’ parents weren’t alive anymore. It was all part of the past, one so different from their current existence that it seemed like another life.

And yet, seeing Severus so open and vulnerable about the abuse he’d endured in his childhood opened something clean in Sirius’ chest. To imagine that someone so young had endured so much pain, and yet still longed for something as simple, as ordinary, as a normal Christmas. Just like any child would.

He shifted closer until he was sitting behind Severus, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his nose in the black hair at the nape of his neck. He inhaled deeply, Severus’ familiar scent steading him as he held him closer.

Severus’ hand rose to rest gently on Sirius’ wrist. “I just hope we don’t…” He faltered, swallowing hard before finishing in a whisper, “...make the same mistakes our parents did.”

“We won’t,” Sirius murmured after a quiet pause, gently guiding them both down until they were lying on their sides, face to face, legs tangled and arms holding each other.

Sighing in defeat, Severus allowed himself to be tucked in, using Sirius’ arm as a pillow underneath his head. His eyes were settled on his chest, hands rising until they rested there. There was a crease in his brow, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to sooth it with a kiss.

Instead, he spoke softly.

“Sev,” he said again, brushing a few strands of hair away from the other man’s face, “I know we’re figuring this out as we go, but… Aster will never know what an unhappy childhood feels like. Not with us.”

Severus pressed his lips together tightly. “I hope so,” he whispered, though his voice was still uncertain. “I don’t think I could forgive myself otherwise.”

“None of that,” Sirius said firmly but not unkindly, tugging the covers up to wrap them both in a warm cocoon. “I’m sure we’ll make our share of mistakes. But so far, we’re doing just fine, and he is a happy, healthy baby.”

“For now,” Severus murmured, closing his eyes. “But what if I do something wrong? I’ve never had a good parental figure… I…”

He was trembling, and Sirius’ heart clenched painfully at the thought that Severus feared that he could somehow become like his own parents were, or that Aster could one day resent him as much as Severus did with his own parents.

It was nearly inconceivable to Sirius that such a thing could ever happen. After all, he had seen the depth of love in Severus’ eyes every time he looked at their child. The way he held him, the way he worried even before Aster was born. It was undeniable love—raw, fierce and unconditional.

But clearly, it wasn’t so obvious to Severus. And Sirius knew he needed to do something about that.

“We love him more than anything. That has to count for something, right?” Sirius murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Severus’ lips. “I think that’s what matters most. The rest—we’ll figure it out along the way.”

“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered, his expression still pained.

“Don’t,” Sirius said gently, pulling his trembling partner further into his arms, tightening the embrace around him. “And for the record, I can’t imagine Aster ever hating you. He’s already calling for you, and he’s not even a year old. Don’t you see how much he loves you already?”

Some of the tension in Severus’ body eased. “I just… I don’t think I could bear if he ended up hating me.”

“You won’t have to,” Sirius said firmly, his fingers trailing soothingly along the back of Severus’ neck while his other arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “You know what hurt you most as a child. I do too. It was the lack of love.”

He paused, taking a steadying breath and resting his chin gently atop Severus’ head. “And I promised you, remember? That neither of you would ever want for anything. That includes love.”

At last, Severus opened his eyes, and the look he gave Sirius was so piercing, so raw, it nearly took his breath away. But before he had time to recover, Severus finally let go of the remaining tension, his body softening as he slumped fully against Sirius, seeking the comfort he so rarely allowed himself to ask for.

“You’re right,” Severus said with a sigh. “I apologize again. I… don’t even know where this came from.”

“No need to apologize,” Sirius replied gently, pressing a soft kiss to Severus’ forehead. “It’s been a long, emotional day.”

With that, Sirius finally allowed himself to relax, and he exhaled contentedly, idly stroking Severus’ hair. The other man was silent beside him, his cheek resting over Sirius’ heart, one hand splayed across his chest, dark hair veiling part of his face.

Severus let out a quiet hum, burrowing even deeper into the warmth of their embrace. “I can’t believe he’s starting to talk,” he murmured, a long finger tracing one of the tattoos peeking over the neck of Sirius’ shirt.

“Yeah,” Sirius said with a dreamy smile, silently thanking for the shift in the mood. It had been a happy day, after all, and he wanted Severus to remember it that way. “Soon enough, he’ll be a little troublemaker. I can already tell.”

Severus snorted. “I’m not exactly eager to see how your genes express themselves.”

“As if yours weren’t a menace,” Sirius retorted, giving Severus’ shoulder a fond squeeze. He was teasing him again, and that had to be a good sign. “For the record, I think it’s adorable he called for you first.”

“I don’t understand why,” Severus murmured, a faint flush rising on his cheeks.

“Because it just is,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes affectionately and nudging his nose against Severus’ temple. “Still, it caught me by surprise. A lot of things do these days.”

Dark eyes glanced up, cautious but curious. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Sirius exhaled, adjusting himself more comfortably on the bed. “All of this is uncharted territory for both of us. It’s all new and a little terrifying, but beautiful, too. And I can’t imagine life any other way now. I don’t want to.”

“Me neither,” Severus whispered after a bit, seemingly lost in thought. “We still have much to learn, though.”

Sirius let his head fall against the pillow, chestnut curls spreading in all directions. “Indeed,” he murmured, stifling a yawn as he curled around Severus. “Let’s start with having the picture-perfect Christmas I know you secretly want. We’ll get decorations, presents for all of us…”

There was a muffled noise from Severus.

“Yes, for you too,” Sirius added with a smirk. “And I’ll cook dinner. Dry turkey is tradition, isn’t it?”

He had expected a snort or a sarcastic quip, but the laugh never came. Instead, Severus simply pressed closer, his fingers finding Sirius’ hand and lacing it tightly with his own.

In the quiet of the darkened room, Sirius felt a soft kiss brush against his lips, followed by the faintest whisper of thank you. He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he pulled Severus even closer as and they settled into sleep—his partner warm and safe in his arms, and the silent promise to keep him happy held close to his heart.

Some weeks had passed since then, and hence, since the bet officially ended. In hindsight, the whole thing had been a thoroughly stupid idea, even Sirius could admit that now. But at the end of the day, Aster had said his first word, and Severus had agreed to go on a trip, so all in all, it hadn’t turned out too badly.

For a while, Sirius really thought he’d dodged a bullet, but looking back, he should have known that karma wouldn’t let him off so easily—especially not after trying to trick his partner. Then again, the way Severus had accepted the bet so readily made Sirius suspect that he might have had his own motives. It wouldn’t have been out of character, and Sirius certainly couldn’t put it past him.

Who knew? Maybe it was Severus’ subtle way of admitting he wanted someone else to cook a Christmas meal for him, as part of that wish for a normal, happy holiday -even though it was more likely a clever way to get back at Sirius.

Still, the thought warmed his heart more than he cared to admit, so he decided to give it a proper go.

In the weeks that followed, Aster had been experimenting with more sounds and syllables, and Sirius hoped that the next word would be something meant for him. Once, Aster had babbled something like paaa, and Sirius had clung to the possibility that it was meant to mean Papa and not Padfoot. As much as he loved his canine form, it would sting a bit if his own son referred to him as a mutt before than as a father.

One afternoon, a few weeks later, Sirius was in the kitchen, preparing Aster’s lunch while keeping an eye on their own meal simmering on the stove whilst Aster sat in his highchair, cheerfully slamming a toy against the tray between gurgles and babbles. Severus was outside in the garden, gathering the few ingredients that still grew over the winter, the man still trying to catch up with his schedule before Christmas was finally on them.

It was Sirius’ second attempt to cook that day the Muggle way, the first attempt hidden now in a shrunken bag behind the sink.

Now that he was seriously trying, Sirius couldn’t help but remembering the times Severus would cook without magic, back when he was pregnant and his spell work was unstable. It was funny to think about it now, how effortless Severus made it look, so much that Sirius had assumed he’d get the hang of it soon enough. After all, how hard could it be?

But the moment he actually started, Sirius realized he had severely overestimated his abilities, and as it turned out, cooking the Muggle way was an absolute nightmare.

His first attempt ended in scorched pots, spilled saucepans, and a kitchen that looked like a battlefield, a disaster that earned him several jabs and dry remarks from Severus for days afterward, even as far as purring that “he should have forced him to clean it up “the Muggle way” too.

It was all about timing, it seemed, and timing, turned out to be a lot harder than it looked. Today, he found it out by trying to prepare the Christmas turkey, gravy included. It was tedious, not using magic. Sauces stuck to pans, saucers boiled over… It was really no wonder he had never been particularly good at potions.

Yet, despite the abysmal failed attempts and Severus’ eventual insistence that it “wasn’t necessary,” Sirius was stubborn enough to keep trying. He was determined to hold up his end of the bargain, even if he was already dreading the moment he’d have to do the full meal for Christmas.

In hindsight, Sirius should have known that the whole ordeal would end up in disaster. Had he not betted on the whole thing, he wouldn't have needed to cook. Then, nothing of what happened next would have ever happened at all.

“You're lucky you have your own food,” he said to the baby, eyeing his now second half-burned attempt at gravy. “Mummy is not going to be happy”

“Mamamama,” Aster babbled in reply, as he stuck one of his toys in his mouth and started nibbling at it.

Sirius chuckled, turning toward his son and bending forward with his hands on his knees. “Not in the mood to call me yet, pup?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

Aster tossed the plastic dog to the floor and squealed, “Bababababa!”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Sirius snorted, shaking his head as he straightened up. “Maybe it’ll be my Christmas present.”

He turned back to the stove, eyes dreamy despite himself. If even nonsensical babbling made him this mushy, maybe Severus was right—he probably would cry when Aster finally called for him.

So distracted by the thought, Sirius reached mindlessly for the pot of mashed potatoes, intending to add butter and forgetting entirely that he wasn’t using a cooling charm or even a towel, and he was rewarded with a scalding pain on his fingers.

“Fuck!” he cursed aloud, yanking his hand back and shoving his fingers into his mouth, eyes narrowing in pain.

“Fuck!”

Sirius froze in horror and turned slowly toward his son. “What did you say, pup?” he asked.

“Fuck!” Aster repeated cheerfully.

A cold sweat prickled down Sirius’ spine. No. Bloody hell, no.

“No, Aster,” Sirius tried to reason with the baby. “Let’s try something else, okay?”

“Fufufuck!”

“Aster,” Sirius said, trying to control the sudden dread he felt coursing through his veins. “Can you say Dada?”

Another curse came out of Aster’s little perfect mouth as a response, and Sirius felt like crying.

“Papa? Father? Daddy?” he added, begging at this point. “I will even give you one of those sweets?”

“Fuck!” Aster giggled, stuffing a fist into his mouth, a twinkle in his grey eyes.

Severus was going to murder him. The man had made special effort not to swear in front of the baby, precisely to avoid situations like this. But had Sirius listened when the other man warned him and chastised him for swearing? Of course not! He’d kept right on, and now he was reaping what he’d sown.

As if summoned, the back door to the kitchen opened, and Severus stepped inside with a bag in one hand and a calm expression on his face. He stopped by the sink, settling the ingredients on the counter and turning to Sirius. The second he saw the panicked look on Sirius’ face, he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, scanning the kitchen as though already bracing for disaster.

“Ye-yeah!” Sirius smiled thinly, pale and sweating.

“Mama!” Aster interrupted from his highchair, arms flailing with delight.

Severus momentarily ignored Sirius and crossed over to their son, resting a slender hand atop the boy’s head, gently stroking his soft curls. Only after offering Aster a fond smile, did he turn back to Sirius.

“What’s going on? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Severus said with a faint snort.

Sirius wrung his hands together, his lips twitching at the sting of his burned fingers. “What ghost?”

“Forget it, Muggle expression,” Severus rolled his eyes, then tilted his head. “Anyway, what did you do? Burned another pot to a crisp?”

“N-No,” Sirius stammered, shaking his head.

From the highchair came a babbling sound. “Ffff… Fffff!”

Sirius paled even further. A diversion. He needed a distraction—fast—before Aster fully repeated his new favourite word. Without warning, he closed the distance between him and his partner in two long strides, grabbing Severus by the shoulders and leaning in to plant a loud, exaggerated kiss on his lips.

Severus immediately tensed, a muffled yelp escaping as he stumbled slightly, hands gripping Sirius’ forearms in surprise.

“What—”

“Just remember I’m the love of your life, alright?” Sirius croaked, a manic edge in his voice.

Severus blinked at him, baffled. “Mutt… what the hell is going on?”

“Just a thought,” Sirius replied airily, releasing him and rubbing a hand down his face. “Now, could you check on the gravy and Aster for a moment? I, uh… need the loo.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and bolted, fleeing the scene. As he stepped into the living room, Sirius heard the muffled sound of Severus talking to Aster, followed by the baby’s cheerful babbling in response. Even from there, Sirius had no doubt of what his son had just said.

Barely two seconds later, soft footsteps followed him, and he felt the temperature in the room drop by several degrees.

Well, he was as good as dead. In retrospect, he should’ve known an early death was in the cards for him.

“Sirius,” Severus said slowly, so calm and cold that Sirius felt his soul begin to leave his body. “Could you come to the bedroom for a moment?”

Sirius swallowed hard. Under different circumstances, those words might have thrilled him, but he seriously doubted Severus was in the mood to rip off his clothes, unless it was to skin him alive.

“Sh-should we really be leaving Aster alone?” he tried weakly, a trembling smile tugging at his lips.

“Now,” Severus hissed, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

Still, Sirius followed obediently, like a soldier marching to war. Even as the door closed behind them. Even as a silent locking spell was cast. Even as the latch clicked into place, sealing his fate.

He supposed there were worse ways to die. He just hoped Severus wasn’t feeling too creative and would grant him a clean death.

Chapter Text

As soon as Severus stepped inside the house, he was welcomed by the sound of laughter echoing through the walls, drawing a smile to his lips.

He had spent the morning in a nearby village of Anogeia, a small wizarding settlement he often visited whenever he needed ingredients that he couldn’t grow himself in his garden. The place was idyllic, truly, with its low, lime-washed houses lining the streets, market stalls flanked either side of the main road, and wizards from around the world wandering between them, speaking in all kinds of different languages as they traded and examined the different wares.

It had been one of Severus’ favourite places for some time now, so much so that most weekends, he would ask Sirius to take them all there on his motorbike. These little trips had grown into a sort of family tradition, one that never failed to leave Severus feeling oddly, and quite uncharacteristically, sentimental. With Aster nestled in the sidecar and his arms wrapped protectively around him, Severus would watch Sirius ahead of them, his eyes bright with enthusiasm, dark mane whipping wildly in the roaring wind.

Today, though, Sirius had decided to stay home with Aster, after Severus assured him he’d only be making a brief visit to fetch some fresh salamander skin for a particularly complex commission, one that Severus couldn’t finish fast enough. As much as he felt happy with his little business, he was always looking forward to just devote himself to his own experiments and research.

It wasn’t even noon by the time Severus hung his cloak by the door and flicked his wand to vanish the linen bag to the basement. After slipping out of his shoes, he followed the trail of voices of Sirius and Aster, leading him straight down the hall and into the living room.

The sight that greeted him made him stopped straight on his tracks. Sirius was sprawled on the sofa, a laugh already escaping his lips as he waved his wand lazily whilst Aster squealed, the three-year-old darting around a silver figure that floated in the centre of the room.

It took a couple of seconds, but Severus soon realized that Sirius wasn’t performing any kind of Transfiguration nor illusion spell. As he watched the creature captivating their child, it was rather obvious that it was no ordinary horse, the equine figure tall and gloomy, despite its silvery glow.

No, what was in front of Severus, was an eerie and undeniably beautiful thestral Patronus.

Severus blinked slowly, eyes sweeping over the scene as Aster ran in circles around the ghostly creature giggling, small hands reaching up toward its twitching wings.

Sirius, sensing him at last, turned his head with a warm smile and lowered his wand.

“Hey,” he greeted, casual as ever.

“Hey,” Severus replied, a little breathlessly.

“Mum!” Aster called from atop the coffee table, now stretching to pet the thestral’s towering head. “Look! I’m petting it!”

“I see you, little one,” Severus said with a hum, letting the hand resting on the doorframe drop to his side as his gaze shifted toward Sirius. “That’s quite a Patronus.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Sirius beamed, eyes fond as they followed Aster’s movements. “It’s been a while since I cast it. Aster asked if I could make an animal appear, and it just occur me to cast it.”

Severus stepped closer, circling the sofa before settling beside Sirius, his eyes never leaving the creature before them.

“I always thought your Patronus was a dog,” he said slowly, then added with a faint smirk, “Don’t worry, I won’t make a mutt joke. Feels a bit too on the nose this time.”

“You better not,” Sirius said with a bark of laughter, shaking his head. “One of these days, Padfoot’s going to start getting really offended, you know?”

Severus rolled his eyes, the expression more in a fond way than exasperated one, and let his body sink into the backrest of the sofa. He watched as Aster jumped clumsily, trying to grasp at the glowing figure, and felt his heart soften at the innocence radiating from their child.

They stayed silence for a moment, the little chuckles from Aster enough to fill the space and ground them in the atmosphere. Eventually, Sirius spoke again, his voice quieter now, his expression more solemn.

“It changed… not long after the Veil,” he said carefully.

Severus tensed, almost imperceptibly, his gaze drifting to the far corner of the room.

“I’ve never seen a Patronus change into a thestral before,” he murmured.

It was true, after all. Dogs, cats, deer, wolves, birds… those were the usual shapes that a wizard could encounter. Occasionally something stranger, yes, but always warm and bright. The most unusual Patronus Severus had ever encountered belonged to Albus. But then, the man had always been extraordinary, showing even in his radiant phoenix Patronus.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly common,” Sirius hummed, giving his wand a few lazy waves so the creature would turn toward them, making Aster immediately protest with a small sound of disapproval. “But I suppose it’s fitting, given… well, you know.”

“You walked between life and death,” Severus mused, almost to himself, his fingers drifting unconsciously to the scar on his wrist—the same one he’d cut open all those years ago in the desperate ritual that allowed him to follow Sirius beyond the Veil.

Sirius noticed, as he always did. Without a word, he reached out and laced their fingers together, his touch warm against the scarred skin.

“You walked me back, if anything,” he said gently.

Severus didn’t reply. Instead, he brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to Sirius’ fingers before letting go carefully, almost reluctantly. He didn’t like to think about that time, in fact, he rarely spoke of it, but some memories were nearly unavoidable.

The Veil would always be part of them, as complex and binding as the pact that had twined their lives together ever since.

It was a bittersweet memory, if Severus thought of it. Sirius had died in that place, and so did Severus’ heart with him.

Yet, somehow, they had found their way back together. Whether it was the power of the ancient ritual Severus had performed, or some rare acquiescence granted by Death itself, Severus didn’t know nor care. The only thing that mattered is that they were there now, together and forever bound.

Sirius smiled, soft and a little wistful, as he leaned closer.

“There’s another reason, actually,” he said.

He turned fully to Severus, gently cradling his cheek, guiding his face until their eyes met. Severus let himself lean into the touch—because what else could he do? The subject made him feel far too exposed, more vulnerable than he liked to admit.

“What?” he managed to ask, the word thick in his throat, having to force it past his lips.

“Well,” Sirius started, stroking the sharp cheekbone with one finger. “I always thought you were similar to one, you know?”

“Really,” Severus said dryly, a faint twitch appearing on his lips. “Don’t tell me, it’s because I’m skinny and gloomy?”

“No, silly,” Sirius sighed, lips puckering into a childish pout. “Because people were always afraid of you because of how you looked, or what they thought they knew about you… but…”

He glanced toward Aster, who was toddling around the glowing animal.

“…but in truth, you’re a gentle soul.”

“Please,” Severus scoffed, quickly looking away. For all the love he held for Sirius, he would never grow used to his ridiculous, over-the-top romanticism, the kind that always left him at a complete loss for words.

Thankfully, before he had to fumble for a response, Aster noticed him. The boy lit up and trotted over, a beaming smile stretched across his chubby face.

“Mummy,” he chirped, placing his small, warm hands on Severus’ knees, “make a Potronus!”

Sirius chuckled beside him, and despite himself, Severus felt a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He reached out and gently tucked a stray curl behind Aster’s ear, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of his son’s cheek.

“Patronus, dear,” he corrected softly.

“Make one, then!” Aster insisted, bouncing in place, that familiar cheeky grin on his lips.

“Ah-ah,” Severus tutted, arching a brow. Even at this age, the boy was already trying to bend the rules his way. “We pronounce it properly first.”

Aster held his gaze for a moment, brows furrowed in a tiny frown. “Pa… tronus?”

“That’s it,” Severus said, smiling proudly as he ruffled the boy’s curls. “It’s a spell used to protect people.”

Aster’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Protect?”

“Yes,” Severus hummed, his voice softening, “from bad things.” He leaned forward slightly, flicking out his wand from its place in his sleeve. “Now… you still want to see mine?”

Aster nodded eagerly, and Severus murmured the incantation. In an instant, a translucent dog sprang into being, skittering around Aster with silent barks. The child squealed with delight, rushing to the centre of the room to chase both the dog and the thestral, nearly stumbling from excitement.

“I’m mostly convinced he’ll be a Ravenclaw,” Severus mused, eyes following Aster’s movements. “He’s always so eager to learn, even being so young… But then he uses the cleverest little tricks to weasel himself out of any situation he doesn’t like, and I can’t help but see a little Slytherin in the making.”

Sirius said nothing, and Severus glanced over, surprised that the mutt wasn’t starting to ramble about how Aster will definitely be a noble Gryffindor. But instead, Sirius stood frozen, stormy eyes flicking between Severus and the glowing dog.

“Sev?” he croaked, voice tight.

“Yes?” Severus replied smoothly, resting his wand on the coffee table and settling into the sofa with crossed legs and a relaxed posture.

Sirius drew in a shaky breath. “Since when?”

“Since the Veil, too,” Severus answered evenly, never taking his gaze off the silver dog, the uncanny resemblance to Padfoot pulling a nostalgic string in his chest. “It led me back to you there.”

“You…” Sirius murmured. “It changed too?”

It had changed indeed, back then. Severus remembered now, though he’d given it little thought at the time—too concerned with his role as a spy and trying to bring Sirius back from death. And then, with everything else that happened, with the end of the war, the escape, their reconciliation, the pregnancy... it had just simply slipped his mind.

“At the time, I thought it was just a side effect of the ritual,” Severus said softly, his voice slightly hollow. “But looking back now… I do think it changed far before it.”

“It used to be a doe, right?” Sirius said, voice tight. “Like…”

“Yes, like Lily’s,” Severus finished, and it surprised him that uttering her name didn’t hurt like it used to. Or at least, not as much as his next words did. “You know, right? The reason why it changed.”

Sirius only shook his head, from the corner of his eye, Severus saw could see his partner’s eyes growing wet. One lonely tear trailed down his cheek, and Severus was quick to brush it, fingers trailing Sirius’ bearded face before letting his hand fall back into his lap.

“When you died, I lost everything,” he said slowly, fingers digging in his own legs. “My hope, my reason... I couldn’t even mourn you properly.”

He exhaled slowly, his gaze drifting to the faint scars on his wrists, just visible beneath the cuff of his shirt. “I suppose this was the only way my soul knew how to fill the hole you left behind.”

Severus sighed and gave a small, resigned shake of his head. Perhaps a bit of mutt’s romanticism had rubbed off on him after all.

But he had just spoken the truth, one that he had kept inside for far too long. And Sirius, of all people, deserved to hear it, after all this time. Long ago, Severus had promised himself never to leave his feelings unspoken, and he was decided to fulfil his promise.

The shape of his Patronus, was just as important, he realized. Something Sirius should have known sooner. But then again, it wasn’t a spell he cast often, at least not here, not on this quiet island where there were no dementors to defeat, no messages to send.

And so, here they were, over three years later, only now discovering the new shapes their Patronuses had taken.

Sirius seemed too overwhelmed to speak. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Severus’ lips, one that he accepted gladly, needing the touch just as much. They slowly came together into a natural embrace, Sirius’ arms trembling slightly as he pulled him close, Severus leaning in fully, enjoying the feeling of his partner’s heart beating against his.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Sirius murmured with a soft chuckle, eyes closed as he rested his forehead against Severus’.

“You don’t have to,” Severus murmured, nuzzling closer before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Sometimes I forget,” Sirius teased, his smile spreading lazily across his face, “how awfully romantic you can be.”

“It’s just the truth,” Severus muttered under his breath, a bit gruffly, as he averted his eyes.

“I know,” Sirius replied, his voice low and tender as he brushed a lock of hair away from Severus’ face, fingers lingering on his cheek. “I know, Sev—and I couldn’t love you more for it.”

“I… love you too,” Severus said quietly, letting the feeling sink in his heart. “It’s strange, isn’t it? That it took us three years to discover the shape of our Patronus.”

Sirius gave a soft laugh, shrugging. “Well… I suppose we had more important things to care about.”

“Indeed,” Severus agreed, his eyes drifting toward Aster, who was now trying to pet the silvery dog, his small hand passing harmlessly through the glowing form.

Sirius sank back into the cushions, gently pulling Severus with him until they were both reclined and entwined in a loose, familiar embrace. Severus didn’t resist, and instead, shifted until he was comfortably tucked against Sirius’ chest, one hand instinctively threading through the soft curls at his partner’s nape.

Eyes fluttering shut, Sirius groaned in bliss, and it made Severus’ smile how there was something in that expression, something so pure and stupidly serene, that reminded him of Padfoot dozing in a patch of sun.

Oh, Sirius. He really was a mutt, wasn’t he?

But it was a nice change in the mood, and they stayed silent for a bit. Only a after a while, Sirius finally spoke again. “Can I ask you something?”

Severus hummed in response, too distracted running his fingers through Sirius’ hair as to form cohesive words, his digits twisting, untangling and gently scratching at the back of his neck.

“What do you think of,” Sirius continued, sighing as Severus’ nails grazed his skin, “when you cast your Patronus?”

The question made Severus’ hand pause mid-motion. He tilted his head slightly. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious,” Sirius murmured.

Severus turned his gaze toward the silver dog rolling across the floor to Aster’s delight, the child soon following and imitating the Patronus. Perhaps they should consider getting a pet, Severus mused to himself.

“…It’s nothing specific,” he said at last, voice quiet. “Not an image, exactly.”

“No?” Sirius asked, clearly intrigued.

“It’s more of a feeling,” Severus murmured, his expression softening.

Sirius perked up, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “But what do you picture, though?” he insisted, grinning now. “Come on. There must be something.”

A faint blush crept up Severus’ neck, and Sirius seized the moment, propping himself up with a dramatic gasp.

“Ohhh—don’t tell me it’s something naughty?”

For the love of Merlin.

“I’m really going to murder you one day,” Severus hissed, shooting him a glare.

Sirius only grinned wider, wiggling his eyebrows as he let a finger trail along Severus’ arm. “So you won’t tell me?”

Severus swatted the hand away with a roll of his eyes. “Can’t a man have some privacy in his own house?”

“Oh, come on,” Sirius whined, full-on pouting now. “You’re killing me here.”

Severus scoffed, and Sirius was certainly about to continue teasing him, but before the man could open his mouth, Aster came barrelling toward them once more.

“Daddy!”

Sirius straightened, clearing his throat as he turned his attention to their son. Still, he shot Severus one last knowing glance before leaning down to meet Aster’s excited face.

“What’s up, pup?”

“I want to make a Patronus!” Aster declared, small hands reaching eagerly for Sirius’ wand.

Sirius laughed, lifting the wand just out of reach. “I’m afraid you’re a little small for that, love.”

“I’m not small!” Aster huffed indignantly, patting his father’s leg and puffing out his tiny chest. “I’m three!”

Severus snorted before he could stop himself, quickly raising a hand to cough into it, though the corners of his mouth twitched. Sirius’ eyes sparkled as he reached out and scooped Aster into his lap, trapping him in a firm but playful hold.

“You’re a baby,” Sirius cooed, his voice sing-song as he began to tickle the boy. “My baby.”

“Daaaaddy, stop it!” Aster whined, squirming and kicking, trying to bat his father’s hands away.

“Stop riling him up,” Severus said dryly, though there was no real bite in his voice. He was watching them with softened eyes, warmth creeping through his chest at the sight of their son’s flushed cheeks and wild laughter.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius murmured, gently rocking him now, pressing a kiss to the boy’s wild curls and holding him close.

Carefully now, Sirius wrapped his arms around the boy, settling him comfortably against his chest. Aster was still smiling, and he let out a small sigh before curling into Sirius’ lap, one hand clutched the front of his father’s shirt.

As Severus watched the scene, it was clear Sirius had completely forgotten about the Patronus conversation, his attention turned completely to his son, a bright smile settling on his lips as he cradled the boy closer. Aster looked up at Sirius with those wide, trusting eyes, and he received a kiss on the tip of the nose that made him wiggle and giggle.

And Severus, still and quiet, took it all in.

“This…” he murmured, almost too low to hear, the blush in his face deepening. “This is what I think of.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, merely a vague comment, but Severus didn’t trust himself to put it into words. Maybe that’s why he never spoke of it. Because each time he saw them like this, it knocked the breath right out of him, completely overwhelmed by the sheer emotion he felt each and every single time he saw them together like this.

Sirius turned his head slowly, his expression shifting as realization dawned. But before he could speak, before Severus could be smothered by a tide of softness he still wasn’t quite sure how to carry, he rose abruptly to his feet, prepared to make his exit.

“I’m making tea,” Severus announced, clearing his throat as he smoothed down his robes. “I believe I’ve reached my emotional quota for the day.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, tilting his head with exaggerated curiosity. “Wait just a minute… don’t you want to know what I think about?”

“Not particularly,” Severus replied with a smirk, shaking his head as he turned away.

Sirius pouted, which Aster took as the perfect moment to tug at his beard with both hands.

“Ow—!” Sirius yelped, eyes wide before narrowing playfully at the boy. “Now you’ve done it!”

Severus walked out of the space, a soft, almost shy smile curling at his lips as laughter erupted behind him in the living room, father and child lost in their own little game once more.

There was no need to ask what Sirius thought of when he cast his Patronus.
Severus already knew—it was the very same thing he did.

Chapter Text

The first rays of sun filtered through the window, casting warm light across the room. The curtains swayed gently in the morning breeze, and from somewhere outside came the distant cries of seagulls, loud and clear in the stillness of early day.

Sirius grumbled drowsily, stretching beneath the thin sheet that barely clung to his body. He yawned and buried his face in the plush pillow, the familiar scent of fresh laundry mingling with Severus’ and his own. Inhaling deeply, he kept his eyes closed for a little longer, turning onto his side with a small happy sigh.

Beside him, Severus was still asleep.

Sirius blinked blearily, sleepily, but he forced himself to stay awake, resisting the urge to close his eyes again, not wanting to miss the sight of his partner slumbering peacefully.

It didn't happen very often that he woke up before him, but it was always a nice little surprise when it happened. And today, of all days, it felt even more special.

Unable to help himself, Sirius smiled.

There was a softness to Severus in his sleep, an almost air of innocence. His features were gentler, younger somehow, as if the years of pain and bitterness had never touched him like Sirius knew all too well they had.

And yet, it was uncanny how much Severus had changed over the years. Still lean, yes, but no longer borderline emaciated, his body having filled some thanks to a healthy and peaceful lifestyle. The harsh lines of his face had eased, his hair was now trimmed and cared for, jet black and soft— and one of Sirius’ favourite places to fall asleep, nose buried deep.

The man was, without a doubt, a painstaking example to what love and care could do to a person. And though Sirius couldn’t rewrite the past, he still wished he’d been able to give him this life sooner.

With a deep breath, Sirius tucked his arm beneath his head and let his gaze wander slowly over Severus, drinking in every detail and etching the image into memory: long, dark lashes resting against pale skin; the familiar arch of that sharp nose; thin, parted lips; the steady rise and fall of a slim waist beneath the sheets…

Merlin, but he was gorgeous.

Every detail. Every breath. There wasn’t a moment Sirius took for granted, nor a day he didn’t think on how lucky he was that this was his life—their life. That he got to wake to this, to Severus, every single day.

Sirius rolled over and leaned in, his fingers hovering above the soft strands of Severus’ hair before brushing them gently aside, uncovering his face. Carefully, he dipped lower, letting his breath ghost over Severus’ parted lips before pressing a chaste kiss to them.

At first, there was no response. But then, a small sound escaped Severus, something between a sigh and a hum, and his lips began to move in return, deepening the kiss into a slow caress. Severus’ eyelids fluttered, his limbs still heavy with sleep as he shifted beneath Sirius, wrapping himself around him.

The kiss was languid, mouths brushing with barely-there touches, the softest press and retreat of lips, again and again. When Sirius finally drew back, hovering over Severus’ drowsy form, a dreamy smile curled on his lips.

“Morning,” Sirius murmured, threading his fingers through Severus’ hair and cradling his face in one hand.

“Hmm… morning,” Severus yawned, eyes still closed as he leaned into the touch. “What time is it?” he asked groggily.

“Still early,” Sirius replied softly, his thumb brushing along the sharp line of Severus’ cheekbone. “We’ve got a couple of hours before Aster’s up.”

Severus’ eyes opened, dark and unfocused, blinking slowly as he adjusted to the light.

“Oh,” he mumbled, rubbing one eye with a closed fist before letting his arm fall behind his head.

“Oh, indeed,” Sirius chuckled, dipping his head again to press a trail of kisses along Severus’ jaw. He nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting his nose drag lazily against the skin before continuing downward.

With a contented sigh, Severus stretched, his hands sliding up to rest on Sirius’ bare back, slim fingers tracing idle patterns over the curves of muscle and bone.

“Feeling needy today, mutt?” he quipped, though he made no effort to push him away. Instead, he shifted comfortably against the mattress, kicking off the sheet that clung to his nearly naked form.

The weather was still warm, as it had been every September since they’d moved in together, four years ago now. And in that time, Sirius had managed to coax Severus into abandoning pyjamas altogether, spending their nights tangled together in nothing but underpants.

Sirius had good reasons for it (practical ones, for sure, especially for mornings like this), but more than anything, the feeling of Severus’ skin against its own soothed his soul. To this day, he still sometimes needed proof that Severus was really there, with him; that the life they’d built wouldn’t vanish like a cruel dream the moment he opened his eyes in the morning.

And it was on special occasions like that day, that he needed that comfort more than ever. Even if he’d never say it aloud.

“Can’t help myself,” Sirius murmured, letting his hand roam free down Severus’ chest, tracing his ribs. “Not when someone this sexy is lying next to me.”

Severus huffed a laugh. “Spare me the flattery,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Never, gorgeous,” Sirius said, pressing a teasing nip to the skin just below Severus’ earlobe.

“Trite,” Severus hissed, though the faint flush rising on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Can’t a man be trite on his anniversary?” Sirius asked, pouting as his fingers continued exploring, tracing the flat expanse of Severus’ taut belly.

“We’re not marri—Mutt!” Severus gasped, shivering as Sirius’ lips found the pale scar at his neck and gave it a hard suck.

Sirius smirked impishly against the skin, soothing the mark with a soft lick before continuing upward. “Hmm? What was that?” he asked.

Severus curled his lip. “I said you’re a mangy cur,” he sneered.

“Nuh-uh,” Sirius tutted, eyes narrowing playfully. “That’s not what you were about to say. Try again, love.”

“Stop acting like a child,” Severus said with a hiss, turning his face away.

“Come on,” Sirius pouted, tilting his head slightly. “Just indulge me, will you?”

“But…” Severus scowled, his expression darkening before he averted his gaze. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

There it was the distance. He hated when Severus pulled back, even if only in the small gestures like this. And he wasn’t about to allow it. Not today.

“It can wait,” Sirius said gently, reaching up to take Severus by the chin, coaxing his gaze back. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves for a little while. Alright?”

In one fluid motion, he shifted, rolling fully on top of Severus, nudging his legs apart by slipping a thigh between them. Severus glanced at him from the corner of his eye, expression unreadable for a moment, as if weighing whether to push him away or not, before finally letting out a soft and, to Sirius, rather adorable huff.

“So,” Sirius murmured, dropping his voice a few octaves as he began to grind his thigh against the growing hardness between Severus’ legs, “do you want to celebrate?”

Severus groaned, brow furrowing, hands tightening on Sirius’ shoulders. “Fine,” he said quietly.

“Then let’s,” Sirius whispered sensually, brushing his tongue across Severus’ bottom lip, coaxing it open before claiming his mouth in a slow, hungry kiss.

Their bodies came together naturally, starting to move against each other in a well, rehearsed dance. Yet, even as Severus melted into him, legs falling open to cradle Sirius between them, he couldn’t help but hear the words again, sneaking into the front of his mind.

We’re not married.

They had this conversation every year. And it never failed to sting Sirius hearing Severus point out that sodding fact every single time.

Yes, their history stretched long behind them —their relationship was, after all, a long, tangled host of love, pain, mistakes and, at last, hard-won happiness. They had drifted apart more times than Sirius could count, but somehow, they always found their way back. Again and again, until, finally, they stayed.

For once, Sirius just wanted to mark the day, to celebrate that four years ago he found Severus, and they finally swore to be together. It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. They were blood-bound and they had a child. What else could a wedding possibly add?

Still, Severus remained reluctant. And Sirius suspected he knew why.

Because even if they wanted a wedding, they couldn’t have one. Not like everyone else in wizard society could, at least. Not officially, and not with family or friends. Severus had been declared dead in Britain, and he’d lived in hiding ever since the war, erased from public memory, a forgotten ghost in the very country he’d helped save.

The thought sadden Sirius, but not for himself. He’d choose this life, exactly as it was, over and over again without hesitation. But Severus deserved more after everything he’d sacrificed, after all the battles and pain. He deserved to be proud of his bravery and not let himself be swept under the rug like a shameful secret.

But Severus was still too cautious, too afraid of being discovered. To that day, it was the only reason Sirius had never dared to ask him to formalize things, to marry him like he had wanted since the moment he knew he was in love with him… and it was also the only reason why Aster, on every piece of parchment, was still just Aster Black, at Severus’ insistence.

And that, more than anything, broke Sirius’ heart.

“Sirius,” Severus murmured against his lips, drawing him back with a gentle lap of his tongue across his bottom lip. “Come back to me?”

Sirius blinked, realizing he’d drifted, caught too deep in thought. “Sorry, love,” he whispered. “I was miles away.”

“Don’t think now,” Severus said softly, tugging him closer and stealing another kiss. “Be here.”

Merlin, how well he knew him.

Severus had always been able to read him, but since they’d started living together, it was something more. Now, it seemed, that Severus wouldn’t need any Legilimency to guess what was on his mind.

Their mouths found each other again unhurriedly. Sirius kissed the seam of Severus’ lips, then traced them with his tongue before teasing his bottom lip with a gentle lick.

Severus sighed into him, lips parting, welcoming, and the kiss deepened. Sirius’ tongue explored, coaxing, tangling with Severus’, grazing lightly along the edge of his teeth.

“Muffliato,” Severus sighed the spell sensually against Sirius’ mouth.

Sirius grinned as he heard the familiar buzzing of magic spreading through the room, the door locking in place with a thud. Anticipation coursed through his spine like an electric current, and he trailed lower with his lips, brushing hollow of Severus’ throat, down to his clavicle. He paused at a nipple, taking it between his teeth and tugging at it before wrapping his mouth around it, making Severus squirm.

Impatiently, the other man reached for Sirius’ sleep pants, a hungry smirk curving his lips as he shoved them down, then rid himself of his own with a couple of quick kicks. His fingers wrapped around Sirius’ cock then, slow and teasingly, slender digits squeezing just enough to make Sirius’ eyes roll back in pleasure.

“You’re quite hard already,” Severus purred, tightening his hold around Sirius’ erection. “Do you want to fuck me that badly?”

“You know I do,” Sirius hissed, hips twitching and seeking friction.

“Insatiable,” Severus murmured, clearly amused, eyes already dark and glassy with lust. “A beast in heat…”

“I am,” Sirius growled, batting Severus’ hand away as he lowered himself, pressing their cocks together, starting a slow grind. “And we’re not leaving this bed until you’ve come at least twice.”

Severus moaned, reaching around with one hand and gripping Sirius’ arse, urging him faster. “Always so cocky,” he said, clenching his jaw to maintain an even voice.

Sirius wasn’t about to let him, though. He grinned, and then ground down harder, feeling Severus’ cock throb against his own, the friction sending a shiver down his spine.

“I just know my skills, love,” he whispered, leaning down to drag his tongue languidly along Severus’ pulse vein, a glistening trail of spit left behind.

“You animal,” Severus murmured, breath hitching. One finger slid down Sirius’ chest, nail raking lightly before he pinched and twisted his nipple hard enough to make Sirius grunt. “But I’ll admit…” he added between ragged breaths, a wicked smirk forming on his kiss-bruised lips, “You do have—ah—a good attitude.”

Sirius' grin turned wolfish at that, the sharp glint of his canines flashing. He met Severus’ eyes, dark as obsidian now, pupils blown wide with lust, and tilted his head slightly, biting his lower lip in anticipation.

Oh, he was going to see how much he could undo him.

He moved down, wrapping his hand around Severus’ cock and tugging experimentally. Then he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the bead of pre-come with a slow swipe of his tongue. Severus sighed, legs parting wider invitingly as Sirius shifted closer until he was ducking between them.

Sirius turned his head to the side, nuzzling the pale thigh now resting over his shoulder, inhaling the scent of skin and the faint softness of hair brushing his face. His kisses turned greedy, lips and tongue tasting the salt of Severus' skin, mouthing at one protruding hipbone.

“Merlin, you’re stunning,” he whispered, burying his face in Severus’ belly, following the dark trail of hair with his lips.

“Sirius,” Severus growled. “Get on with it.”

“Ah-ah. Patience,” Sirius teased, hands resting at each side of Severus’ inner thighs, caressing and drifting higher with each word. “We’ve got time.”

And Merlin, how that truth filled his chest.

For a brief moment, images flashed through his mind, memories back from their time during the war, of their frantic rutting and fucking, when each night, each moment, could be their last, back when everything was uncertain between them.

Now, though, everything was different, from their life to their lovemaking. Now, they had time, safety… and more than anything, they had each love. Sirius let himself look at Severus, really look at him, and took a quiet breath of gratitude that this man was still with him, being his and his only.

His partner. His love. His Severus.

Licking his lips, Sirius got back to work. His grey eyes settled on his prize once more, one hand slowly tracing Severus' sac, folding his balls one at a time, the other man writhing underneath him, already desperate. That was exactly what Sirius wanted to see, and he was just getting started.

“Stop teasing, mutt…” Severus said through gritted teeth, nudging impatiently at Sirius’ temple with one of his knobbly knees.

Sirius chuckled light-heartedly, pressing a last kiss to Severus’ navel before finally facing his cock, now laying heavy and flushed against Severus’ flat stomach. Holding it upright with his free hand, Sirius didn’t waste any time, and wrapped his lips around the head, smoothing the foreskin with his lips as he let it slowly fill his mouth. The musky scent filled his nose instantly, earthy and sharp and uniquely of Severus, and Sirius couldn’t contain a groan deep in his throat.

Severus whimpered, thighs trembling around Sirius’ head, fingers fisting the sheets so strongly that he nearly tore them free from the mattress. Sirius cracked an eye open and looked up, the image nearly sending him into a frenzy.

Severus was panting, chest rising in erratic bursts, lips parted. The man propped himself up on his elbows then, and the look he gave Sirius with his eyes blazing made his gut twist with want.

And he was quickly to act upon it, not wanting to keep his love waiting anymore. He quickened his pace, bobbing his head up and down fast, letting the cock sink deeper right until it was pressing against the back of his throat.

“Ah… oh, Sirius—ah—” Severus gasped, back arching. “Fingers… please... your fingers—”

Sirius pulled off with a wet pop and murmured a spell. His mouth returned to the cock as one slicked hand moved between Severus’ legs, fingers tracing circles around Severus' entrance, testing it before pushing two inside at once.

He angled them just right, Severus' hole sucking them in as he pumped them in and out fast and hard, just like he knew Severus liked it, stroking along the sensitive nub inside, searching until Sirius finally curled them just right and then...

Severus' mouth parted in a perfect little o, a moan leaving those swollen lips as his cock throbbed violently, spilling over his stomach. Sirius didn’t stop, just pressed deeper, riding out the waves as Severus came and came and came.

“That’s the big galleon right there,” Sirius said smugly.

“S-shut… shut up,” Severus whined, a second wave of his orgasm crashing through him, more seed splattering as his body arched, muscles seizing, hands seeking purchase in the bedframe and holding to dear life to it.

“Shush, there we go…” Sirius beamed, reaching with his free hand and stroking his thumb over Severus’ bottom lip.

“Stop it,” Severus panted, chuckling breathlessly before nipping playfully at the digit. “You’re… ugh… insufferable…”

“And you’re so hot,” Sirius murmured, licking his lips in anticipation, a spark of pleasure coursing through him when he realized that he could still taste Severus in his beard.

“Please, Sirius,” Severus begged, voice wrecked. “Fuck me already.”

Sirius was trembling now, breath short and ragged, vibrating with barely contained lust. He sat back on his haunches, slipping his fingers free and taking himself in hand, his own cock jutting hard and throbbing between his legs, begging for attention. He tugged a couple of times, slicking himself and oh so ready for what was to come.

“Turn around, my love,” he said hoarsely, his chest rumbling. “I want you from behind.”

Severus hesitated for only a second before huffing a quiet laugh. Elegantly, he rolled to his side and lifted himself onto all fours, arse high and unashamed, presenting himself in a way that made Sirius groan and nearly salivate at the sight.

He scooted closer, still kneeling on the mattress, grabbing Severus’ cheeks with both hands, kneading and squeezing before parting them. Then he leaned in, observing the pink, fluttering hole, and he was pleased by the throaty moan that escaped Severus' when he pressed a wet, smacking kiss to the twitching entrance.

“Sirius…” Severus drawled, voice faint and impatient.

“Almost there,” Sirius promised, patting his flank gently.

With careful hands, he guided his cock to the puckered hole, tapping it a few times with it before sliding in one long, smooth thrust that nearly blew every fuse in his brain.

They both gasped and stood still for a moment, trembling. Another moan broke free, filling the room, and Sirius couldn’t tell if it was his or Severus’. Perhaps both. All he could think was Severus’ body snug and pulsing around him, and Sirius was drowning in it. He felt his eyes roll into his skull, the muscles in his belly tight and twitchy as a wire as he held himself still.

“God, Sirius,” Severus whimpered, his fingers digging into the mattress, spit trailing from his lips.

“Yeah,” Sirius groaned, giving a shallow thrust. “Yeah…” he repeated, rather stupidly, but his brain was too full of endorphins as to manage a cohesive thought.

He began moving then, deeply and hard, too worked out to be gentle anymore. Severus moaned and pushed back hard, rocking and snapping his hips back and forth, trying to get Sirius further inside himself.

It made him so hot to see Severus desperate for him, fucking himself on his cock so beautifully. His eyes drank into the shape of the man, his toned, scarred back, alabaster skin glistening with sweat as he pushed back against him, meeting each and every single one of Sirius’ thrusts, making the dog in him want nothing else but to mark him, devour him, make him his.

“Merlin, you drive me crazy,” Sirius groaned as he saw his cock disappear completely inside Severus’ body.

He let his head fall back as his hips smacked wetly against Severus’ arse, pressing him further and further into the mattress, hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. He was close, so close now, but he wanted to undo Severus more, to shatter him completely...

“Ah… Sirius—”

“I… I need you —ah—closer,” Sirius grunted, jaw clenched shut before an idea crossed his mind.

Letting go of Severus’ hips, Sirius used his strength to pull the man up to him until they were both on their heels, Severus’ back plastered against his chest. The new position made Sirius’ cock sink further until he bottomed up, so deep inside his partner that it was hard to know where one began and finished.

Severus bit his lip hard, trying to muffle the scream that nearly left his throat at the sudden change of posture. His thighs were shaking, barely holding him upright, and Sirius stopped briefly, wrapping one arm around Severus’ chest protectively, soothingly, the other one sneaking around and starting to stroke and tease Severus’ cock.

Shivering, Severus threw an arm back and around Sirius’ neck, lips seeking his mouth in a messy kiss. Sirius meet them with a gasp, taking the hint, the hand on Severus’ cock moving fast now as he started to thrust again and again into him, hips snapping sharply, deeply.

“Mine,” Sirius rambled, chest pressed to his back, lips brushing the curve of Severus’ ear.

“Right there—ah—!”

“Love you… ah… love you…”

“Sirius… ah…. Sirius!”

“Again,” Sirius growled. “Come for me again.”

With a strangled moan, Severus came a second time, spilling all over Sirius’ knuckles, his body clamping down and fluttering tight around Sirius’ cock. His hands scrambled back for something to hold, anything, nails digging into the skin of Sirius’ shoulders before his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.

Finally, after he emptied himself completely, the man collapsed forward, his shoulder blades trembling as he braced himself on his arms. But Sirius couldn’t hold himself anymore, he needed his release, he needed to sink and mark and bite and…

Pulling Severus back by the hips, Sirius started ramming into him, thrusts growing erratic, each one slamming deeper, harder. He leaned forward, his chest plastered against Severus’ back, groaning against his neck.

“Fuck…” Severus swore, hands dragging into fists in the sheets, hair covering his face.

“Sev—so good,” Sirius choked, muscles in his abdomen clenching. “I… shit—I’m—”

“Sirius, inside—”

Sirius muffled a shout against Severus’s shoulder, sinking his teeth into the skin as he finally came, his orgasm shaking him, leaving him momentarily blind. He felt his cock throb, spilling hot ropes inside Severus—so hard and so much that some of his seed slipped down Severus’ trembling thighs.

Whimpering, Sirius rested his forehead against the back of Severus’ shoulder, mouth open and breath ragged as he rode out every pulse, hips twitching with the aftershocks.

They stayed still for a moment, both trembling, before collapsing heavily onto the mattress. Sirius draping himself over Severus, their sweat-slicked bodies tangled perfectly together.

Only when Severus gave a low grunt and murmured, “Heavy,” did Sirius stir. He lifted himself carefully, slipping out and spelling the mess away. Severus rolled onto his side, utterly spent, and Sirius followed, immediately curling around him, one arm wrapped securely around his waist, his nose tucked into the familiar crook of Severus’ neck.

They lay like that in silence. The air was heavy with the scent of sex and sweat, the sheets twisted beneath them. Outside, the early hum of cicadas crept in through the open window.

“Happy anniversary, my love,” Sirius whispered, lips pressing a lingering kiss to Severus’ damp temple.

“I…” Severus began, hands gripping Sirius’ wrists. “We’re not married.”

That wasn’t the answer Sirius expected. He stilled, his chest tightening as his smile faded. Not that he thought two good orgasms would change Severus’ mind, but… it still hurt.

“Alright, I get it,” he muttered, freeing himself from Severus’ grip. “One would think being blood-bound and raising a child together would deserve us at least a special day, but whatever,” he added, sulking more than he meant to. “I’ll drop it.”

With a quiet sigh, he disentangled himself from the embrace and rolled onto his back, folding one arm behind his head, the other resting across his stomach.

He hadn’t meant to sulk, really. And he didn’t want to ruin the moment either, but he couldn’t help it, not with Severus pointing out yet again that weren’t married. Instead, he fell silent, clinging to the remnants of warmth between them, enjoying the afterglow of their lovemaking and trying very hard to ignore the cold feeling that had suddenly settled in his chest.

The silence thickened, now only broken by their slowing breaths. Sirius’ body was still twitching, and he considered letting himself drift back into sleep when Severus spoke again, this time softly.

“Sirius.”

Sirius let out a breath, arms still folded behind his head. “What?” he asked, sharper than intended.

The other wizard was now lying on his back, and there was a tightness in his frame, a stiffness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

“There’s a town hall near the owlery in Heraklion,” he said quietly. “I… already spoke with a clerk.”

Sirius blinked, turning his head slowly to glance over.

“What for?”

“It’ll only be us,” Severus continued, ignoring the question, his expression stubbornly settled on the ceiling. “Obviously I can’t use my real name,” he said, and it didn’t escape Sirius’ the slight sadness in his tone. “Prince is still risky, but… discreet enough.”

Something clicked in Sirius’ brain, and he sat up sat up abruptly.

“Wait a minute,” he said, trying to swallow hard with little success, his mouth suddenly cotton dry. “You mean…?”

Severus flushed, shooting him a sideways glare. “I was trying to ask you earlier,” he muttered. “But you interrupted me.”

The world tilted. Because there was no fucking way that what Sirius suspected was happening right there, right then. Feeling his body frozen in place, ears ringing, Sirius remained there, trying to breathe. Could Severus be asking him to…?

With a quiet sigh, Severus pushed himself up, settling beside him. He still avoided Sirius’ gaze, but his hand moved over their laps until it found his, fingers curling around his in a steady grip.

“We’ve been here four years,” Severus murmured, his eyes fixed on their joined hands. “I think it’s time we… formalize things. For us and for Aster.”

“Sev, can you please, please, be super clear about what you’re talking about?” Sirius whispered, trying to swallow over the lump of his throat. “Because I think I’m about to pass out if it is what I think it is.”

Severus frowned, then finally lifted his gaze to meet Sirius’. “I want us to get married,” he said plainly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“You… you…” Sirius stammered. “Hah…”

“Sirius?” Severus asked, raising a brow as he released his hand.

Without warning, Sirius dropped flat onto the mattress with a thud, laughing in disbelief as he shook his head. He rubbed his hands over his face, burying his eyes in his palms.

“I can’t believe this…” he wheezed, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “That’s why you kept insisting we’re not married—that’s why… oh, Merlin…”

Severus remained seated beside him, arms now crossed over his bare chest, a scowl pulling at his lips.

“Normally, when someone’s asked that question, it’s polite to answer, you sorry sod,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes.

Another chuckle escaped Sirius’ lips, and only then did he realize his eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He sniffled, drawing in a shaky breath before lowering his hands and settling his misty grey gaze on his sulking partner.

“Technically, you didn’t ask,” he said softly.

Severus’ scowl deepened, and he squirmed uncomfortably in place, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. Honestly, Sirius didn’t think the man could get more adorable, even if he tried.

“Come on,” Sirius coaxed gently. “I’m only getting proposed to once in my life. Let me hear you say it?”

Severus’ face turned a beautiful shade of scarlet, and he let his eyes dropped to his hands. He started fidgeting, and Sirius could have sworn right there to have never seen anything as beautiful ever.

“You’re honestly insufferable…” Severus grumbled, before letting out a resigned sigh. Only then, he rose his gaze, studying Sirius for a long while before asking. “Do you want to marry me or not?”

At that very moment, time slowed down. Sirius stared at him—at Severus, sitting there in bed, hair tousled, skin marked with the lingering signs of their lovemaking, completely bare and, most importantly, sulking and scowling like only he could.

Never in a million years had Sirius imagined a proposal coming from Severus, and certainly not like this. And yet, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect one.

“Oh, my love,” Sirius choked, emotion catching in his throat. Because truly, he hadn’t expected Severus to actually go through with it, not even in his own prickly, brilliant way. “Yes. A million times yes, Sev.”

Sirius couldn’t even talk any further. He reached out, pulling Severus down with him until they were curled up on their sides, not even a sliver of space between them, their arms wound tightly around each other, legs tangled over the sheets.

Severus let out a soft gasp of surprise, but within seconds, he was holding Sirius just as tightly. Sirius’ heart thundered in his chest, and one hand found its way into Severus’ dark hair, cradling the back of his head, whilst the other anchored him by the curve of his lower back.

“Fuck,” Sirius choked, a sob raising in his throat.

Severus’ hands tightened against his back. “Are you… are you actually crying?” he asked, stunned.

“No,” Sirius sniffled—then croaked, “Maybe? Bloody hell, I just didn’t expect to be proposed to.”

Severus lifted a hand, brushing his thumb gently across Sirius’ damp cheek, his eyes wide with surprise. “I didn’t realize it meant that much to you…”

Sirius blinked rapidly, then gave a watery laugh. “Are you joking? I’ve wanted this since we were seventeen.”

With a soft groan, he buried his face against Severus’ chest, curling into him as the other man held him in silence. A few hiccups escaped him, but Severus merely stroked his hair, long fingers gliding gently over his scalp. Slowly, a shaky smile tugged at Sirius’ lips.

Maybe he was being dramatic, but honestly, who could blame him? He was just so damn happy.

They stood like that for what felt a small eternity, both trembling and reluctant to let go. Eventually, Severus sighed and pulled back just enough to meet Sirius’ eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost shy.

“Do you mean it?” he asked softly. “Do you really want to marry me?”

Sirius let out a choked laugh, releasing him only to cradle Severus’ face in both hands. “Merlin, Sev—of course I do.”

Severus’ eyes drifted to the side, uncertain, before glancing nervously at Sirius. “Today?”

“Fuck yes, let’s do it.” Sirius grinned so hard it nearly hurt. “I can’t believe you want me to be your husband.”

“Of course,” Severus murmured, only to then add, in a quieter voice. “You already are.”

A strangled sound left Sirius’ throat, and he hoped Severus could feel how wildly his heart was pounding. He began to pepper kisses wherever his lips could land, on Severus’ forehead, his nose, his chin, before finally capturing his mouth in a deep, breathless kiss.

It took Sirius a long moment to steady himself, his lungs burning as though he might pass out from holding his breath. Finally, he drew in air and forced his emotions under control. Clearing his throat, he met Severus’ eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” he asked gently.

“Because… we’re already blood-bound,” Severus murmured, leaning into the touch with his eyes closed. “And… you gave me a ring years ago.”

“I transfigured it from sand, it barely counts,” Sirius whispered, taking Severus’ hand in his.

As he spoke, he caressed absently the silex band still resting on Severus’ finger, before taking it to his lips and pressing a kiss against it, relishing the firm touch, the solid proof of their union right there between them.

“It’s still enough,” Severus said, almost painfully, resting his forehead against Sirius’. “Or… it should be. But I—I’m greedy,” he admitted in a whisper. “Even if I can't use my real name…. I want you and I to...”

He paused, biting his lip and shaking his head before taking a deep breath.

“I know it's barely what you deserve,” Severus went on, his voice trembling and his gaze wistful. “I dragged you here, after all, and isolated you...”

“You didn’t—”

“I did,” Severus said firmly. “And even if this is all I can give you… even if it’s just this one, small thing… It’s selfish, I know, but I want it regardless.”

Sirius felt stunned. How had he not seen how deeply this weighed on Severus? He’d assumed the man was just being his usual irritable self, and not bitter over something so obvious that, truth to be told, Sirius felt a bit like an idiot for not realizing earlier.

And once again, Severus had proven just how romantic he could be.

He wasn’t one for grand displays, not like Sirius, who wore his affection and heart on his sleeve always. No, Severus showed his love when it truly mattered, with gestures that left Sirius wondering what he had ever done to deserve such devotion.

“You beautiful, perfect man,” Sirius breathed, pulling him tighter into his arms. Severus was trembling now, and Sirius kissed his quivering lips again and again. “I want nothing else but you…”

He drew in a shaky breath, blinking hard against the sting in his eyes. “You know that, right? The only reason I never brought it up before is because—”

“I know,” Severus cut in gently, his voice muffled as he slumped into Sirius’ chest. “I know I’m paranoid about being discovered…”

“You don’t have to explain,” Sirius said quickly, threading his fingers through Severus’ hair and tucking the long strands behind his ears before pressing a long, lingering kiss to his forehead. “I understand. And if you’re only doing this because you feel like you have to—”

Severus’ eyes flickered with indignation. “You idiot,” he huffed, lips pressing into a scowl that was far too endearing to be taken seriously. “I… want this too. Never thought I would, but…”

“But I’m just too handsome not to marry?” Sirius said smugly.

“Oh, spare me,” Severus muttered, rolling his eyes fondly.

Ah, there was an art to teasing Severus, and Sirius knew that better than anyone. Especially in moments like this, when Severus needed the mood to be changed into something lighter, less vulnerable and sensitive… and there was nothing like their usual bickering for it.

“I hope you know I’m getting you the most obnoxiously expensive ring I can find,” Sirius said, grinning.

Severus slapped his chest lightly. “No, you’re not,” he groaned.

“Oh yes, I am, husband.”

“Technically, you should say fiancé,” Severus quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Not for long,” Sirius replied, eyes gleaming. “Husband…” he tried the word in his lips, savouring it, before letting out a laugh. “Merlin, that sounds exactly right.”

“It has a nice ring to it,” Severus murmured, and then, more softly, “And… we could change Aster’s surname to Black-Prince.”

Sirius blinked, his chest tightening. “If you don’t mind it not being Snape…”

“Believe me, I don’t,” Severus said flatly, mouth twisting. “Perhaps it’s about time I let that part of me go completely, since I am Severus Prince over here anyway.”

Sirius eyes glistened. “The Half-Blood Prince…” he chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Severus grimaced. “I was ridiculous.”

“No, you weren’t,” Sirius said firmly.

“Oh, do shut up.”

Severus shifted suddenly, rolling them over in one fluid motion until Sirius was beneath him, trapped between warm sheets and a warmer body. Smirking, Severus leaned forward gracefully, sitting comfortably in his lap, taking hold of Sirius’ wrists and pinning them at each side of his head before pressing a long, slow kiss against his mouth, kissing him and then kissing him some more, mouths moving together in a lazy tangle of tongues, tasting and teasing, until they were both breathless, with their cheeks flushed and their gazes locked.

“Let’s stay a little longer… before we go,” Severus murmured against his cheek, smirking. His breath was hot, and it made Sirius’ skin prickle.

Sirius let out a pleased hum. “That sounds agreeable, fiancée,” he purred.

Sirius and Severus were married that very afternoon, alone with Aster, in a small townhall in Heraklion. The room was narrow and dimly lit, with weak cooling charms and a battered ceiling fan barely keeping the stifling heat at bay.

To some, it might have seemed like a sad event, but for Sirius, it was one of the happiest moments of his life. How could he not be? In that place, it was just the two of them and their child, swearing their vows and receiving their family book with their joined surnames. Just them, as it should always have been.

He didn’t need anything more, Sirius told himself. And just seeing the shy smile on Severus’ lips as he signed the magical parchment, hands trembling slightly, made it all completely worth it.

Chapter Text

The steady rhythm of carrots being chopped filled the kitchen that afternoon. Severus handled the knife with his usual precision, the sound sharp against the odd stillness of the house, the same he was doing his best to ignore. Just a few more hours, he reminded himself, and he would be longing for the silence he presently despised.

Sirius and Aster had left early, both going on a quick trip to England in order to attend Potter’s birthday. It had shocked Severus to learn that he had been invited too, and such invitation had been rejected with the correspondent sneer.

Over the years, he had made small concessions for Sirius’ sake—like tolerating that insufferable old house elf entering their home, if only so the mutt and their son could travel with ease, or the fact that he allowed Aster to accompany his father in such trips.

With each year, his paranoia waned, his instincts to protect and hide relaxing. But one thing he couldn’t do, one vow that he refused to break still was his promise never to set foot in England again.

Six years might have passed since the war ended, but the wound was still too raw, the thought of returning too unbearable, and he was determined to not subject himself to that pain unnecessarily.

And certainly not for Harry bloody Potter’s birthday.

Severus sighed, scowling down at the pile of chopped vegetables as if they were the same and only Boy-Who-Lived. It was absurd, really. He shouldn’t feel this unsettled over a bloody trip, and yet some instinct kept warning him. Every time Potter’s name so much as surfaced, it seemed to end badly for him… and each time, without fail, he overreacted shamefully.

That morning had been proof enough. Sirius had wasted an embarrassing amount of time soothing his nerves before leaving with Kreacher, and against all reason, Severus had allowed it, no matter how stupidly needy it made him feel.

And yet—how could he control it? Watching his husband and child leave for England stirred a small, ancient fear of being abandoned, the old demons of his mind louder in the silence of the house. Even if he knew it would never come to pass, that they always came back to him, and even if Sirius had insisted that they would be back for supper.

It was rather pathetic, and Severus knew it far too well. Still, as he had bid them farewell, he had not been able to help himself, and ended up kissing the mutt longer than usual, then holding Aster close, burying his face in inky black hair before finally forcing himself to let them go.

Now, the house was quiet around him, and he decided to distract himself like he always did. Firstly, he’d spent most of the day in the basement, brewing and bottling potions, preparing orders ahead of schedule. The work had soothed him, not entirely, but enough to push most of his unease into the back of his mind while he lost himself in the familiar rhythm of his ingredients.

It was still bright when he finally emerged from the basement, the long light of summer evening spilling through the windows. A glance at the clock told him it was time to start dinner, though he knew perfectly well that Sirius and Aster would return overfed on sweets and Molly Weasley’s cooking.

As he chopped and diced, he became aware that he was overdressed for July, an old habit from spending far too many years in the constant chill Hogwart’s dungeons. Glancing around, he sighed quietly before he slipped off his outer robe, rolled up his sleeves, and tied his hair back.

The shepherd’s pie was coming along well, its fragrance of herbs and meat already filling the kitchen. It was Aster’s favourite, and Severus knew, even as he worked, that this was a blatant attempt to overcompensate, making up for the child having been out and away from him all day.

The thought made his frown deepen.

Aster was growing quickly, and he was far too bright for his age, already asking questions he had no wish to answer, like why he never joined them on their trips back to England, back to the place that had once been called home.

It was a small mercy that the boy was still young enough to accept simple excuses like work to finish or having a headache. It wasn’t ideal, Severus disliked lying, but the child seemed satisfied with those answers. For now, at least.

As the hours passed, Severus was so absorbed in his cooking that he barely registered the crack of apparition in the living room, nor Sirius’ quiet word of thanks to the elderly elf. It wasn’t until the rapid thud of footsteps came racing down the hall that Severus finally turned from the stove, just a second before seeing Aster burst into the kitchen, face alight with joy and youthful enthusiasm.

“Mummy, we’re back!” he exclaimed, flinging his arms around Severus’ middle.

“Careful with the knife,” Severus grunted, settling it aside on the chopping board before wrapping his son into a one-arm hug.

Another set of steps soon followed Aster’s, and Severus’ turned his head to the door in surprise as Sirius made his appearance into the kitchen too.

“Hey love,” Sirius greeted warmly, grinning as he set down a couple of trays that looked, to Severus, suspiciously like leftovers from the feast.

“Hey, you,” Severus greeted, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “I expected you’d be gone longer.”

“Harry ate something that didn’t quite agree with him,” Sirius explained, closing the distance to brush a kiss against Severus’ lips.

“He puked all over the table!” Aster added with a gleeful cackle, and Severus couldn’t quite suppress a snort.

“Well, that is unfortunate,” Severus murmured, but his tone betrayed how relieved he actually was to have both of them back with him.

“It was, but it’s good to be home,” Sirius said with a smirk, slipping an arm around Severus’ waist. “Your hair looks good like that, by the way.”

A small flush appeared on Severus’ cheeks, and he pointedly ignored the comment, turning back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready shortly. Unless you’re not hungry…”

“Nah, we actually behaved this time,” Sirius chuckled, leaning forward to peer into the saucepan. “Mmm. Smells amazing.”

“It’s—” Severus began, distracted enough not to notice his rolled-up sleeves.

“What’s that?” Aster’s voice cut sharply through the room.

Severus turned to Aster, ready to explain what he was cooking, his gaze following his son’s pointed finger. He expected a question about the ingredients, perhaps about the amount of vegetables on the dish, until his eyes traced the small hand’s direction straight to the Dark Mark burned into his forearm.

The world seemed to stop, and the kitchen air grew taut with silence. Sirius’ mouth parted, his eyes flicking anxiously between Severus and their son, clearly at a loss of words.

Severus went rigid, slowly disentangling himself from Sirius’ embrace as his own eyes suddenly became guarded. He slowly regarded his son, lips pressed tight as a lump formed in his throat.

“Mummy?” Aster asked hesitantly, slowly lowering the hand still pointing at the mark.

“It’s nothing,” Severus croaked, tugging his sleeve down with trembling fingers, concealing the brand once more.

Aster opened his mouth – to protest or to question something else, but Sirius moved first. He stepped quickly to the boy’s side, draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Pup,” he said briskly, “let’s go wash our hands while your mother finishes dinner, hm?”

“But…” Aster pouted, reluctant.

Severus stood frozen as Sirius and Aster exited the kitchen, like a deer caught in front of car lights, his teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurt. A shuddering breath escaped him as he raised a hand to his mouth, fighting to steady himself.

Behind him, the food hissed quietly on the stove, forgotten. Voices drifted faintly from the other room, but he forced himself to turn back to the pot, trying to block everything else over the task, and trying not to be distracted by the pounding of his own heart in his chest.

Damn it all. He had always known this day would come.

Just not so soon, he thought bitterly, swallowing against the knot in his throat as he began to serve supper.

Sirius had always known that, as their child grew, questions would come. All children asked them, didn’t they? He remembered being Aster’s age, arguing with his own mother about why he wasn’t allowed to play with the neighbour’s boy.

In his case, of course, the answer had been a rant on blood supremacy, earning him a stinging hex across his backside when he dared to protest that his friend wasn’t scum.

It wasn’t the same case, not by far. Both Severus and himself never as much as lifted a wand or a hand against Aster, nor they vetoed any question he might have. Still, Sirius worried.

Both Severus’ past and his own were difficult, the kind that no child could fully understand. One day, Aster would demand answers, and there would be no simple way to give them. Sirius could only hope that by then, their son would be old enough to hear the truth, and that the life they had built for him would speak louder than the mistakes they made.

Yet, Sirius had never imagined the first question would come so soon—and Merlin, he would have given anything to spare Severus from being the one forced to answer it. Bloody hell, he’d have been even to talk about Azkaban.

Guiding Aster toward the bathroom, his pulse quickened as he tried to act normal. He had grown so accustomed to the sight of the Mark that he hadn’t realized up till then that Severus always took great care to hide it from everyone else. With a quiet sigh, Sirius set the little stool by the sink so Aster could climb up.

They washed their hands in silence, water splashing softly while Sirius was lost in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Aster sneaking glances at him before finally speaking.

“Daddy?”

“Yes?” Sirius answered absently, rubbing the soap between his fingers.

Aster worried his lip between his teeth, looking suddenly very put off. “Was Mummy… angry?”

Sirius let out a long breath. “No, love.” He bent down, pressing a kiss to the mope of dark hair. “It’s just… a complicated subject.”

“You always say that when you don’t want to explain,” Aster muttered, scrunching his nose in a pout.

Sirius couldn’t help a small snort. His child, even at just four years old, was far too perceptive for his own good. “You’re right,” he murmured fondly. “But it’s true. It is complicated, and that mark… it makes him very sad.”

It was the best he could do. It wasn’t his story to tell, and even if it were, how could he even begin to explain the hatred that Sirius knew Severus felt every time he saw it?

“Why?” Aster’ frown deepened, his face suddenly resembling Severus so strikingly that Sirius had to blink to remind himself it wasn’t a miniature version of his husband standing before him.

“Because… sometimes, we adults live through things that make us sad,” Sirius said carefully, weighing each word. “That’s the case with us. Do you understand?”

“Not really,” Aster admitted, tilting his head, then holding out his hands for Sirius to pat them dry with a towel.

“It’s alright. Like I said, it’s complicated,” Sirius reassured, finishing drying Aster’s hands and hanging the towel in place. “It just means Mummy isn’t ready to talk about it yet. But I’m sure he’ll tell you the story someday.”

“Okay…” Aster’s little face fell. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius said, firm but gentle, “it’s not your fault, alright?”

“But—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius smiled at him, ruffling his hair. “Can I just ask you to wait until he wants to talk about it?”

“Okay,” Aster agreed reluctantly. “But he’s not angry?” he asked again anxiously, brow furrowed.

“No, pup, he’s not,” Sirius sighed, helping him down from the stool. “But I think we should go spend some time with him. That’ll cheer him up.”

At least, that was what he told himself. He knew Severus well enough to guess that he was already brooding over the question, and there was no telling how he’d react. For now, Sirius would just try to lighten the mood and maybe have a quiet chat later.

There wasn’t much else he could do.

The rest of the day passed with still a lingering tension in the air, or more exactly, with a heavy melancholy clinging to Severus like a cloud.

Sirius, bless the mutt’s soul, tried desperately to lift it, telling him news about Potter and their brief encounter, along with updates on the Lupins expecting another child. Severus made a genuine effort to focus on his partner’s ramblings, nodding at the right moments, even managing a few murmured responses.

But each time he glanced away, he caught Aster’s eyes on him, the child almost warily observing him when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Sirius must have spoken to him in the bathroom, that much he knew. It wasn’t in his child’s nature to just forfeit his curiosity, especially when he sensed pain or tension in those around him. He had always been that sensitive, and he was becoming even more now that he was growing older.

Even small as he still was, Aster was aware that something was off, and Severus couldn’t but hate himself for it.

That was the moment Severus realized the conversation could no longer be avoided. Even if Aster soon forgot the question, the memory of that wary, fearful look in his child’s eyes would remain in his own mind. And the thought that Aster might feel embarrassed for asking that blasted question at all… well, that was unbearable.

When Severus learned he was to become a parent, he had sworn to be the best he could for their child, to never lie or behave even remotely like his own parents had.

But now, that promise meant he couldn’t simply dismiss his son’s curiosity. He needed to put on his big boy pants, push past his own pain, and show Aster that it was alright to ask questions without fear.

So, when bedtime came, it was Severus who offered, taking the small hand in his as they climbed the stairs. After the familiar ritual of pyjamas and teeth brushing, Severus helped him into bed, tucking the covers around him as he did every night, then sat at the edge of the mattress.

“Mum, could you read me a story?” Aster asked eagerly, but there it was again, that flicker of guilt in his grey eyes.

“Not tonight,” Severus said softly, brushing a few strands of inky hair from his son’s forehead. Summoning every ounce of courage, he continued. “I want us to talk a little.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Aster’s gaze wavered, hesitant, and Severus offered a small, reassuring smile. “It’s alright. You did… nothing wrong by asking,” he murmured. “I understand that you’re curious.”

“I just… I’ve never seen it before,” Aster admitted slowly, little hands clutching the edge of the covers.

“I know,” Severus sighed, voice tight. “I don’t like it to be seen.”

“Why?” Aster asked bluntly. “It’s cool. Like Daddy’s.”

A shiver ran down Severus’ spine, one he struggled to hide. Aster’s innocent attempt to cheer him should have been heartwarming. After all, it was true that Sirius himself was covered in tattoos, it wasn’t too farfetched that Aster assumed that this was just the same. Yet, the thought of his son praising the Dark Mark sent a sudden wave of nausea straight to his stomach.

“This one is… different,” he said carefully. “It’s a bit too complicated to explain. But…” He paused, eyes drifting to the ceiling before returning to meet Aster’s. “You know that before you were born, there was a very bad wizard, right?”

“The one Harry defeated?” Aster asked shyly, fingers fidgeting restlessly. “He told me once, when I asked why he was famous. He said you and Daddy also fought him.”

“Yes,” Severus admitted, wincing as he licked his lips slowly. “But many years ago, before even Harry was born… I made a mistake.”

“But you never do anything wrong!” Aster protested, a small frown creasing his face as he tilted his head. The words made Severus’ heart lift, and for a fleeting moment, a genuine smile touched his lips.

“Sometimes I do,” he conceded with amusement, placing a hand gently over the blankets, right above Aster’s chest. “But don’t tell your father I said that.”

“I won’t,” Aster promised, smiling briefly before shifting nervously beneath the covers. “So?”

“Well…” Severus hesitated, grounding himself as his heart pounded in his chest. “Many years ago, that wizard… Voldemort… he put this mark on people who worked for him. I thought… he wasn’t so bad, so I joined him.”

“You… did?” Aster’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Why, indeed. There had been countless reasons, all equally wrong. Because he was heartbroken and lonely. Because he had lost everything and had nowhere to go. So much pain had twisted him, leaving him wanting to watch the world burn. And burn it did—along with his life.

“I was very sad,” Severus said, his own voice unfamiliar to him, almost detached. “And I thought what I was doing was right.”

Aster squirmed in bed, clearly holding a question in his mind. Severus gave him a moment, using the pause to gather what little composure he could.

“Was Daddy not with you?” Aster finally asked.

“No, he wasn’t,” Severus replied slowly. “He fought on the side of the good people.”

Aster blinked, silver eyes flicking to Severus’ covered sleeve before returning to his face. “But you’re good,” he said firmly.

If Severus didn’t already hate himself enough, he certainly did now, hearing his child declare it despite everything he was being told. He drew in a slow breath, pressing his palm gently against Aster’s chest, his thumb tracing soothing circles.

“As I said, I made a mistake,” he continued. He wouldn’t make excuses, not to his son. “Then… I realized it was wrong, and I tried to fight against him.”

Aster hummed softly. “And you won?”

“The good people won, yes,” Severus said, voice quiet. “But this mark shows that I wasn’t always on their side. That’s why I don’t like it.”

“Can’t you remove it?” Aster asked, eyes bright. “I can lend you my eraser.”

Severus sighed. “No. Unfortunately… it will always be there.”

Forever branded on his arm, a constant reminder of his mistakes. The disgusting proof he had once been a poor excuse for a man, the kind that got many people hurt or killed because he was naïve enough to think that Voldemort was the answer to his misery.

“Mum?” Aster’s gentle voice pulled him back to the present.

“Yes, dearest?” Severus answered, his tone hollow.

“Mistakes happen,” Aster said firmly, and only then did Severus realize his own child was quoting him. Merlin knew the effort it took not to break into tears at that very moment. “But you fixed it. You fought the bad wizard.”

If only it were that simple, Severus thought bitterly, watching the fierce adoration in Aster’s eyes.

“I tried,” he forced out, averting his gaze to the drawings of plants that adorned the room. “In any case, it was a long time ago.”

A small, warm hand found his, nearly startling him. He looked back at Aster.

“Are you still sad?” the boy asked, little pout on his face.

That was an understatement. Heartbroken. Devastated. That was closer to the truth. Severus sighed, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his son’s forehead.

“I’m not, little one,” he murmured, his gaze softening. “Never with you,” he added, voice barely above a whisper.

“Mummy,” Aster called again, still holding Severus’ hand.

“Yes?”

Aster leaned forward, wrapping his short arms around Severus’ neck in a tight hug. “I love you,” he said.

Severus’ own arms moved instinctively, curling around his son. He could feel Aster’s smaller frame pressed against his own, and it was almost unbearable to realize that he was the one being consoled when it should be the other way around. His throat tightened, and he knew he was close to tears, but all he did was pull the boy closer, burying his face in his hair.

“I love you too, Aster,” he nearly choked, and he had never ever meant something more in his damn life.

As the hug lingered, Severus found himself wishing he could freeze time—just this moment, safe at home, his son wrapped tightly in his arms. He held on, dragging it out as long as he could, breathing in the faint, almost baby-like scent still clinging to Aster.

One day, Aster would grow too big for this. He would grow, move out into the world, and he would form his own adult’s judgment about Severus. And he knew, Severus knew deep down, what would happen then.

Never again would Aster look at him with such unguarded adoration. Never again would those small arms wrap around him in search of reassurance. Never again would Severus be able to call him his little one. For when Aster finally understood who Severus truly was, the love in his eyes would vanish, replace by the hatred Severus knew he deserved.

The thought sent something cold plummeting into his stomach, and he forced himself to control the dread that invaded him.

“It’s late,” he murmured at last, clearing his throat as he loosened his hold and tucked the boy into the sheets. “Good night, little one.”

Aster curled beneath the covers, and as Severus rose, he knew he couldn’t have explained it any better to his son. For now, the revelation was done, and part of his past had been unveiled to his child’s innocence. Perhaps one day he could tell the whole story, and the thought nearly knocked the air from his lungs.

After checking that the night-light glowed softly, he slipped from the room and closed the door behind him. He froze there, fingers twitching when he caught a faint sound to the side.

“You were listening,” Severus said, spotting Sirius leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

Sirius straightened, offering a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I just… wanted to see how it went.”

“It’s fine,” Severus whispered, keeping his gaze fixed ahead, fighting to keep the storm in his chest contained.

But of course, the mutt saw straight through him. Sirius stepped closer, his hand closing gently around Severus’.

“Are you… alright?” he murmured, brushing his thumb across Severus’ palm and tilting his head, trying to catch his eye.

But Severus wasn’t alright, even if he would never admit it. He could feel as if his chest was splitting open. Before he could rebuild his walls, before he could shove down the emotions that threated to drown him, he made the mistake of meeting those sympathetic grey eyes.

It was uncanny, how much Aster’s eyes mirrored his father’s. But in Sirius’ gaze, there was something more, there was understanding. Because the mutt knew exactly everything that happened to him, how tainted and wrong his life had been, and that knowledge didn’t ease the pain.

If anything, it sharpened it.

Because despite everything, despite the filth and his misgivings, Sirius still looked at him as if he was worthy of love. And sometimes, that was a balm.

But tonight, it made him burn with guilt.

He tried to speak, but no words came. Only a morose shrug, a grimace twitching at his mouth. Already, the walls were rising—faster than he could even notice.

And so, he did what he always did.

He ran. He hid. He escaped, as if he could outrun his own feelings.

He went straight to their bedroom, not even checking if Sirius followed. It was far too early to sleep, so Severus began pacing, hands twitching for something—anything—to occupy them, anything to quiet the chaos in his mind.

Sirius entered moments later. One look, and he seemed to understand that Severus was not in a good place. Without a word, he flicked his wand; the door locked, the room sealed in silence, giving Severus the privacy that he needed.

But did he? Severus couldn’t have said. He felt unmoored, almost hollow, his gaze darting desperately around the room until it landed on a pile of unfolded clothes slumped on an armchair. Before he knew it, his hands were on them, folding, ignoring the way they trembled as he did so.

“Hey,” Sirius said softly.

Severus ignored him, folding harder, with so much strength that he nearly ripped the fabric. Clicking his tongue, Sirius stepped closer and caught his arm.

On any other occasion, it might have been a comforting touch, but now it lit every old instinct ablaze, and Severus bristled, the urge to lash out surging like it always did when he felt overwhelmed.

“Severus,” Sirius said, firmer this time. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“No,” Severus hissed, avoiding his gaze. “I’ve already talked enough.”

“Do you need to be so acerbic?” Sirius muttered.

“I just admitted to my four-year-old son that I’m a murderer,” Severus growled, wrenching his arm free of Sirius’ grip. “Forgive me if I’m not in the best of moods.”

“Could you, just for a minute, stay still and talk to me like an adult?” Sirius snapped back, his eyes tracking Severus’ restless movements with a frown. “And I hope you didn’t actually say that to him, because I’ll be pissed if you did.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Severus snarled, flinging the half-folded shirt back onto the chair. “But it doesn’t matter. One day he’ll figure it out. He’ll grow, step out into the world, and then he’ll discover who I really was and how I lied to him.”

“Alright, why don’t we take a breath?” Sirius folded his arms, leaning on one hip, his expression frustratingly calm. “I know Aster asking about the Mark rattled you, but you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

Oh, how Severus hated when the mutt showed restrain on his emotions when he could not. Right now, he wanted to punch the scepticism right off his face.

“Am I?” he snapped, whirling around, teeth bared. “What do you even know?”

“I know it’s hard for you,” Sirius said carefully, voice low and measured. “I know you struggle to believe you deserve redemption. But, Sev, it’s over. It’s the past, and—”

“And yet here I am,” Severus cut in, his voice harsh, “living a life I don’t deserve. Dragging you into this exile because I’m too selfish to do the right thing and send you and Aster where you belong—”

“OI!” Sirius barked, the word cracking through the room like a whip. A vein stood out at his temple, his jaw locked tight. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. We belong here—all three of us. This is our life!” His words came out in a snarl before he dragged a hand down his face, forcing himself to calm down a notch. “We’re happy, Sev. You hear me? Happy. And if we wanted to, we could walk back into England tomorrow and no one would bat an eye. You’re the only one still calling this an exile.”

“Yes, I’m sure Potter and the rest of your family would be delighted to have me around,” Severus spat out the word family, rage making his body shake, “and delighted for you wanting me as a piss-poor excuse of a partner...”

“You’re being unfair,” Sirius growled, warning heavy in his voice now. “If they knew you were alive, they would be glad. How can you not see that?”

“Glad?” Severus let out a cruel, bitter laugh. “I must be their favourite topic at all those merry little gatherings. ‘If only Snivellus were alive to join us.’”

“Don’t call yourself that!” Sirius exploded, grey eyes wide with horror. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What is this really about?”

Severus couldn’t help but sneer. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You and I both know if I set foot in England, they’d see nothing but the Death Eater. The man who murdered Dumbledore. The traitor.” He pressed a trembling hand to his own chest. “And you know as well as I do that the Ministry wouldn’t hesitate to throw me in a cell and toss away the key.”

Sirius’ spine went rigid, every muscle taut as if bracing for a fight. Fine. That was what Severus wanted. He needed to lash out, to be cruel and unfair and every ugly thing festering inside him. He needed to make Sirius see that he deserved the hatred that he felt for himself at that very moment.

“You’re being a right git,” Sirius said at last, voice low and his eyes flickering in pain. “I’m not saying I want to go back to England. But I don’t understand why you insist on acting like you’re still some fugitive Death Eater on the run. Tough shit, Sev—you’re not. Nobody’s even bloody looking for you.” He drew in a deep breath before continuing. “Harry told me himself. Your case was closed years ago.”

“There you have it,” Severus said maliciously. “I’ve been dead to that world for years. And I prefer it that way.”

“Why?” Sirius exploded, waving his arms around himself in disbelief. “Because it scares you that people actually respect what you did? Because it is too much for you to understand that actually someone could think that you were brave enough to play the villain to save everyone's asses in the war?”

“People love to idolize the dead,” Severus shot back fiercely. “If they knew I lived, they’d be disappointed they hadn’t thrown me off to Azkaban—as they should have.”

Sirius stood there, and even in anger, Severus could see that something had clicked in him. And he was proven right when the man’s face paled, arms falling to his side.

“That’s bullshit,” Sirius whispered.

A vein throbbed in Severus’ temple. He stepped back, uneasy. “Sirius…”

“THAT’S FUCKING BULLSHIT!” Sirius roared, the force of it making Severus jump in place.

“You—!” Severus began, but Sirius was already jabbing a finger at his chest.

“No, Severus.” His voice was a snarl, like the one of a feral animal, grey eyes blazing. “No—you listen to me. That’s a load of bollocks, and I won’t hear another word of it. We’re ending this right here, right now.”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Severus snapped, slapping his hand aside.

“Yes, I fucking do!” Sirius stomped the floor, the sound reverberating as he loomed over him. “You want to keep playing the martyr, convinced the whole world despises you, hiding in here for the rest of our lives? Fine. I accepted that the moment I chose you.”

“Then why,” Severus seethed, “are you so desperate to change my mind?”

Sirius stilled, right there, the air between them charged, and when he spoke again, his voice dropped, low and dangerous.

“Because after all this time, you still can’t accept that our son and I love you,” he hissed, and his eyes burned with so much emotion that it nearly made Severus wince. “And you know what, Sev? That really fucking hurts me.”

They used to fight like this, once—back in another life. It shouldn’t have rattled him, but it did. Perhaps because such a visceral argument had become foreign to them now, out of place in their otherwise content existence. Or perhaps because he realized that he had struck so deep that Sirius had admitted the hurt aloud.

Either way, Severus found himself staring, speechless for the first time since the row had begun—since he had begun it. His mouth hung open, then snapped shut as he folded an arm across his chest, as if shielding himself from the vicious blow he had himself delivered.

It wasn’t fear of Sirius that unsettled him, he had never been scared of the other man. What frightened him was the fact that he knew that Sirius had had enough, that he had pushed too far, provoked him to his limit with his misplaced outburst. That maybe this time, the damage might be beyond repair.

The red haze that had driven him started to lift, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Wordlessly, he retreated until the back of his legs met the edge of the mattress. He sat on the edge, his spine rigid, gaze unfocused.

At a glance one might think he was occluding, but in truth, he was at a loss, drowning in too many conflicting feelings, in too much guilt, in too much fear clawing up his chest and choking the air from him.

Sirius kept his distance at first, breath ragged as he granted him space. He watched in silence for what felt like hours, while Severus struggled to get out of his own self. He was trapped now, the emotions he had restrained for years now roaming free in his mind, pressing against his ribs, trying to break free and caging him inside his own body at the same time.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to wake from this nightmare. He wanted to be held. To run. To set the world on fire until it burned to ashes. To thank a god he did not believe in for the life he still had. To die of shame. To be calm. To shatter. To be pieced back together by Sirius.

The sound of heavy steps barely reached him over the buzzing in his ears, his tongue tasting of metal. Then Sirius was there, kneeling before him, large hands settling gently on his knees.

“Shit—Sev, sorry,” Sirius murmured, giving the trembling legs a cautious squeeze.

A sharp pang of pain pierced his chest, stealing his breath. His body trembled—whether from shock, fear, or shame, he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he had lashed out horribly at the person who mattered most, and still, somehow, the stupid mutt thought he needed to apologize.

“It’s… it’s fine,” Severus stammered, his voice breaking with each word. “I’m fine… I just—”

“No, you’re not fine,” Sirius said, tutting softly as he peered into his eyes.

Something wet slid down Severus' cheek, startling him. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Sirius reached up, brushing the tear away with gentle fingers. Another followed, and Sirius caught that one too patiently.

There was no point in hiding now, or maybe he was simply too tired. His face crumpled, his breathing hitched, and Sirius’ arms were immediately around him, tight and sure.

Severus sank into the embrace, pressing his face into the warmth of Sirius’ chest, and the other man shifted until they were both on the edge of the bed, warm hands stroking his back, threading through his hair.

“I’m sorry…” Severus croaked, and Sirius hushed him softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head.

“It’s alright,” Sirius murmured, his hands tracing soothing circles along Severus’ lower back while cradling the nape of his neck firmly. “It’s alright… let it out. I’ve got you.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Severus choked again, his voice hitching with each sob.

“Ssssh,” Sirius murmured, pressing his lips to Severus’ tear-streaked cheek. “Everything’s going to be alright, my love.”

It was only then when he finally broke. With a painful, gasping sobs, Severus leaned against Sirius, his hands balling and twisting into his shirt. The guilt, the pain, everything that he had been pushing down for years finally found an escape, suffocating him, cleaving his chest open.

In the pit of his despair, Severus was well aware that he must be scaring Sirius. He hadn’t cried like that in years, not since his pregnancy, when the hormones controlled him, making him overly sensitive.

But now, the pain felt more real than it had ever before, and through it all, Aster’s gaze haunted him, the trusting, loving eyes of his child as he had confessed the hubris of his past.

That gaze should have been a comfort, but all Severus felt was like he was tainting the child, planting the seed for a hatred that would come as soon as Aster was old enough to understand that some sins could never be forgiven.

So he wept. He wept with a desperation that hollowed him out, letting himself be rocked and soothed, letting the grief rip through him as he was held by the man he didn’t think he deserved, but that was there for him nonetheless.

And Severus didn’t know how he could ever repay him for it.

When Sirius woke that morning, he never imagined the day would turn out the way it did. Not because their trip had been cut short, or even because of the argument with Severus—those things, he could deal with.

But Aster’s first difficult question about their past –Severus’ past to be exact– had been a curveball that he had not anticipated.

He knew Severus had healed some of his wounds since they’d built a life together, otherwise, the man would never have spoken so openly with their child. And Merlin, Sirius was fucking proud of him for that.

But what came after, Sirius hadn’t been ready for. True, he had expected some drama, maybe some brooding. That much was quite inevitable when it came to Severus.

What Sirius hadn’t expected, though, was just how much self-hatred still festered in him. How he carried all alone the weight of a past that he should have moved on from long time ago, and yet, he still agonized over.

And now, holding him like this, weeping and sobbing in his arms like a wounded child, broke Sirius’ heart in ways he couldn’t begin to put into words.

Still, it was clear that this conversation needed to happen. Perhaps they had both had been a bit too focused on learning how to be parents that they hadn’t stopped to tend to their own old scars.

Well, Sirius wasn’t about to make that mistake again. This time, he would be there for Severus.

They were in bed now—Sirius propped against the headboard, Severus curled between his legs, as close as physically possible, with his head resting on his chest. The tears had dried some time ago, possibly out of exhaustion, and now he was just laying limp and heavy against Sirius’ frame. The only sign he was still awake was the way his hand clung to his shirt, almost as if he was grounding himself.

Sirius threaded his fingers through Severus’ hair, stroking the short strands at the nape of his neck, his other arm wrapped protectively around him, cradling him against his body.

“How’re you feeling?” he murmured.

Severus tilted his head just enough to glare at him with swollen, red eyes. “Peachy,” he spat out.

“Fair enough. Stupid question,” Sirius admitted with a faint chuckle.

Severus shifted closer, pressing into the embrace. It consoled Sirius a bit; at least some of the walls had lifted enough for Severus’ dry humour to slip through.

“Sorry,” Severus mumbled after a moment, his voice muffled against Sirius’ shirt. “Still… not there.”

“It’s alright,” Sirius said softly, suppressing a chuckle at Severus’ grumpy little grunt. “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”

“It… it hasn’t been the best, no,” Severus sighed, his finger idly tracing the seams of Sirius’ shirt. “But I didn’t want to brush him off. He has the right to ask.”

Sirius hummed, sliding a hand down to Severus’ forearm and stroking it gently. “It’s still hard for you to talk about.”

“It always will be.” Severus shuddered at the touch but didn’t pull away. Whether from exhaustion or resignation, Sirius wasn’t sure. “I feel so embarrassed, though.”

“What for?” Sirius scoffed, shaking his head. “For venting once in your life? Come, Sev. You’ll survive.”

Severus shifted uncomfortably. “Sirius, I’m… truly sorry. For what I said before.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sirius tightened his embrace, lowering his chin to rest atop Severus’ head. “You were upset, I was upset too, you lashed out, and I blew up. It happens.”

And he meant it. Over the years, Sirius had learned to accept the truth of them: difficult men with difficult tempers, volatile in their fights and in their love alike. But it was alright. Because somehow, they’d also learned how to mend things—how to talk, how to forgive, how to move on, even if there was still much to learn.

“Yes,” Severus murmured, eyes closing as his face tightened with weariness. “But that doesn’t give me the right… I apologize. I was unfair, and you—you deserve better.”

“Now, none of that,” Sirius hushed, pressing a lingering kiss against his forehead.

There was an easy silence, and Sirius let himself savour it, enjoying the feel of Severus in his arms, soft and pliable for once. The worst of the storm had passed, he knew that much. But he could still see the shadows flickering behind Severus’ tired face, and he was determined to soothe them away, one by one.

His fingers drifted slowly along the side of Severus’ face, carefully tracing down his temple, then his cheekbone. He watched goosebumps rise in their wake, warmth stirring in his chest at the sight of his husband finally softening beneath his touch.

With a gentle tilt of his knuckle beneath Severus’ chin, Sirius coaxed his gaze upward until their eyes met. He leaned down and brushed the faintest kiss against Severus’ parted mouth, merely a comforting touch, nothing else than a warm press of lips.

When he drew back, his hand still lingered at Severus’ face, thumb stroking lightly as he asked, “Feeling a bit better now?”

To his surprise, Severus only shook his head. “I’m… sorry I’m difficult,” he murmured, swallowing hard. “I suppose I still… worry.”

“I know,” Sirius said softly, trying to hide the sorrow he felt at hearing those words. “But you shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” Severus whispered, his hand sliding down until it closed around Sirius’ wrist. “Aster is still young, but one day he’ll understand… he’ll know what I did. And I fear—Merlin, I fear he’ll hate me for it.”

“Sev…”

“How could he not?” Severus’ voice cracked as he pulled back just enough to meet Sirius’ gaze, his dark eyes hollow with despair. “How can I explain what I did to Lily? To you? To Albus? How do I justify what I did in Voldemort’s name?”

“Severus, stop—just for a moment—”

“I always knew the day would come,” Severus murmured, slumping against him again, body heavy with resignation. “I just… didn’t expect it so soon.”

Oh no, not again. This ended now.

To his own surprise, Sirius felt a deep, unshakable calm settle over him, maybe because he was certain that none of Severus’ fears would ever come true. Regardless, it steadied him as he began to speak.

“You’re winding yourself up,” Sirius said, his tone even now. “You talk about all the terrible things you had to do, but you don’t acknowledge everything good you did for the cause. Or everything you sacrificed.”

“That… doesn’t matter,” Severus whispered, pressing his face into the crook of Sirius’ neck.

“It doesn’t matter?” Sirius drew in a sharp breath, tightening his hold before gently coaxing Severus back so he couldn’t hide. “Sev, we won the war because of you. Harry is alive because of you. Hell— I’m alive because of you.” His chest rose with another deep breath as his eyes locked onto Severus’ shattered ones. “Don’t you see? Our family only exists because of you.”

“That’s…” Severus licked his lips, eyes darting away.

Sirius felt a flicker of hope. There it was, a crack in Severus’ barriers. Small, but enough. And Sirius intended to pry it wider, to tear it down piece by piece if he had to. Maybe he couldn’t do it completely tonight, but at least enough to make him see reason.

“I love you,” he said simply, threading their fingers together, their wedding bands connecting softly. “So damn much. And so does Aster. Why is it so hard for you to believe me?”

Sirius knew that what he was asking was not easy for Severus. As much as he had opened himself up over the years, it was just against every single one of his instincts to let himself be vulnerable. And yet, again and again, Severus still found the courage to bare himself.

Taking a shaky breath, Severus lifted his gaze, dark eyes clouded with sorrow. “Because I don’t deserve it,” he whispered at last. “You call me brave, but I’m nothing more than a coward, Sirius.”

Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but Severus stilled him with a faint, trembling shake of his head. “I am. And my greatest fear…” He faltered, his voice fragile. “…is that one day I’ll finally pay for everything I’ve done—and lose the best thing I’ve ever had in my life.”

“Merlin, Sev, that’s not—”

“I just… I don’t want him to hate me,” Severus murmured, so quietly it was almost lost in the space between them. Saying it seemed to make it more real, and his voice broke on the words. “Not after everything. I can’t bear it—not from him, not from you. If I lost either of you, Sirius… it would destroy me.”

A hex would have hurt less than those words, but Sirius made himself weather the blow.

“You won’t,” he whispered fiercely, horrified by the thought alone. “Do you hear me? Ever. Oi, Sev—look at me. I’m not joking. Not for a second. We’re not going anywhere.”

“I hope so.” Severus said melancholically, and then just leaned forward until his forehead rested against Sirius’ chest. “I’m… sorry I reacted so strongly. But I just… I’m...”

“I get it.” Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “But look… I worry too. About what he’ll think of me, I mean.”

“Why would you—?” Severus began, lifting his head.

“Because I was fucked up for most of my life,” Sirius cut in darkly, despite his calm exterior. “Because I’m also responsible for Lily and James being dead. Because I can’t begin to explain what Azkaban did to me. Because I don’t know how I’ll ever tell Aster that I spent most of the war a drunk mess—just to end up dead.” His arms tightened around Severus as he drew a sharp breath. “Because you had to risk your life to save my sorry arse, and I still failed you in the final battle. So no, Sev. You don’t get to say you’re the only one with a rough past. Not when I’ve failed you more times than I can count.”

“Now who’s being unfair,” Severus muttered, his voice low. “The circumstances—”

“We both had our own,” Sirius interrupted gently, nuzzling his nose against his temple, inhaling his scent lovingly. “That’s what I’m saying. We can’t erase our past for him. One day he’ll learn about it, but when he does, we’ll be there to explain when he’s old enough to understand,” he finished thoughtfully, letting his free hand slip underneath Severus’ shirt, stroking the soft skin there, needing the contact.

“It still scares me,” Severus admitted at last, as a soft sniffle broke through.

“Same,” Sirius murmured, brushing his thumb tenderly along Severus’ cheek. “But I know in my heart we’ll be fine. Aster’s a clever boy—too clever for his own good.” He smiled fondly, leaning down to press a peck to Severus’ pursed lips. “He takes after you in that respect.”

“I hope he doesn’t get your nauseating optimism,” Severus grunted, and Sirius let out a small chuckle.

Grinning, Sirius teased, “Nah, that’s just my untamed Gryffindorness.”

“Oh, spare me,” Severus groaned, rolling his eyes. “That’s not a word—and by Circe’s tits, I hope it never becomes one.”

Sirius felt a gentle ease settle over him. If Severus could grumble and bicker, it meant he was returning to himself, and that was comforting.

“Aw, there’s my Sev,” Sirius cooed, nuzzling his nose against Severus’. “Swearing and everything.”

Severus scoffed, but melted into the touch all the same. Sirius hummed softly, then reached for his wand on the nightstand and cast a quick tempus. Nearly two in the morning. He blinked, realizing only now they’d been at this for hours.

“You must be exhausted,” Sirius murmured, pressing a trail of soft kisses into Severus’ hair. “We should sleep. Let me—”

He pointed his wand at Severus’, tapping his day clothes and shifting them into proper sleepwear before doing the same for himself.

“Show-off,” Severus muttered, though the yawn that followed didn’t make a very convincing show of grumpiness.

“Just a tad,” Sirius replied with a faint smile, setting the wand back on the nightstand. For the first time in hours, things felt almost normal again, and Sirius was so relieved by it he could barely stand it. “Come on. Tomorrow it’ll be another day. Maybe we can go to the beach?”

“That sounds…agreeable,” Severus’ eyes slipped closed. “What else?”

Sirius recognized the tone instantly and softened. Severus just wanted to hear his voice, to be lulled by it into sleep. The thought warmed Sirius’ chest unbearably, and he was only too happy to oblige.

“We can spend some time in town,” he went on, brushing his fingers across Severus’ cheek. “Take Aster to the fair—he’s been begging since he saw the signs last week…”

A sudden knock at the door cut him short. Sirius blinked, sharing a sharp glance with Severus as both of them tensed. Now, that was unexpected.

“Aster?” he called, only to remember the silencing charm on the door.

Severus eased out of the embrace and pushed himself upright. With a flick of his own wand, the silencing charm dissolved and the lock clicked open.

The door creaked, and there stood their son, clad in dinosaur pyjamas with his cat plush tucked under one arm. His wide eyes flicked from Severus to Sirius, lip caught between his teeth, uncertainty plain on his small face.

Sirius felt a flicker of panic, imagining that Aster might have overheard their argument. But then he reminded himself that it was impossible, and that most likely, he came to the bedroom because the lights were still on.

“Um…” Aster mumbled, rocking on the balls of his feet. “I had a nightmare.”

The confirmation soothed Sirius instantly. He exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips, and Severus stole a quick glance at him before speaking.

“Come, little one” he said softly. “You can sleep here tonight if you want.”

Aster didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly padded over to Severus’ side of the bed, and Severus met him with a soft look before gathering him into his arms before he gently settled Aster between them.

“Better now?” Severus asked, one arm tucked under Aster like a pillow, the other wrapped protectively around him.

Sirius could see something bothering Severus again, and he wondered if the man was blaming the earlier conversation for Aster’s bad dream. He decided that enough was enough, and he was about to grab the Graphorn by the horns, because Merlin knew they’d had more than their share of worries tonight.

He shifted closer, brushing a hand over Aster’s back in a soothing rhythm.

“What did you dream of, Pup?” Sirius asked.

Aster shrugged, flopping onto his back. Wide silver eyes darted between his parents before he drew in a dramatic breath. And then, as always, he caught them off guard.

“There… there was a giant moth in my room!” he whined, scrunching his nose in disgust. “And it was dark, and it had these long legs, and, and—”

Sirius snorted before he could stop himself, earning an indignant glare.

“Daddy, don’t laugh!” Aster huffed, sitting up a little straighter. “It was SO gross.”

“Sorry, love,” Sirius said quickly, though his grin betrayed him. He cleared his throat and glanced at Severus, who looked just as amused.

“Alright, time to sleep,” Severus murmured fondly before switching off the lights. “Don’t worry, we’ll send your father to chase away any moths that dare come near you.”

That earned him a sleepy giggle, and Aster nodded, humming contentedly as he curled against Severus’ chest. Long fingers traced gently over the boy’s cheek, and only then did Severus lift his gaze to Sirius, eyes soft and a little misty in the darkness of the room.

Sirius only mouthed, “has you wrapped around his finger,” adding a teasing smirk that made Severus purse his lips and glare daggers at him.

Still, Sirius knew he was safe; exhaustion had already softened Severus’ features, so he decided to let it rest. There would be plenty of time to tease him in the morning, even if it ended with donkey ears hexed onto his head. It wouldn’t be the first time, anyway.

As they settled, Severus shifted into a more comfortable position, a quiet sigh escaping as his eyes fluttered shut. His breathing slowed, muscles unwinding into the peace of the room. Sirius propped himself on one elbow, moving carefully, simply watching them in the dim moonlight.

It didn’t take long before Severus and Aster were asleep, curled together just as they had when Aster was a baby. Sirius’ chest swelled at the sight, so full it almost left him speechless.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered softly. “I know in my heart it will be. I just need to work a little harder to make you believe it.” He reached out, brushing a long strand of dark hair from Severus’ sleeping face. “But I will, Sev. You’ll see. I’ll prove to you that this is our happiness now—and nothing is ever going to take it away from us.”

Sirius leaned back slightly, letting his hand rest gently over Severus’ head. He knew Severus’ healing would take time. But for the first time in a long while, Sirius felt that they were truly on their way there.

For now, in the stillness of the house, with his family safe and sleeping, Sirius allowed himself to believe his own words, and let himself be drifted to sleep too.

Chapter Text

Severus’ eyes fluttered open, heavy and reluctant, as he stirred awake. He found himself sprawled across the sofa, and a simple glance at the clock on the wall told him it was still early afternoon. With a yawn and a stretch, he pushed himself upright, blinking away the last traces of sleep.

It was surprising for him to have a nap, especially during the week. In fact, he generally disliked doing it so, as it always left him cranky and with an unsettling sense of unreality for the rest of the day.

Then again, the past few nights had been spent in the basement, hunched over cauldrons as his latest experiment brewed steadily. This one demanded more of him than usual, making him spend long hours stirring endlessly, trying out his new method and the new ingredients he found in a remote island not far from their home.

Ah, the art of potions, always so demanding. And yet, it was so gratifying seeing his effort coming to fruition, even if the temperamental new potion was testing both his skills and his patience in equal measure.

With a deep sigh, he moved from the living room into the hall, rubbing a tired hand over his face. Then, he caught the sound of laughter coming from outside, and he froze mid-step. The hand over his face dropped slowly, resting over his chest as a sudden wave of déjà vu swept over him.

Still groggy, he pressed his lips into a thin line, trying to push away the sudden uneasiness. With hesitant steps, he walked toward the entrance, ignoring the faint tremble in his hand as he closed it over the knob, turning it slowly before pushing the door open.

The sun still stood high in the sky, its warmth bathing his skin as soon as he stepped into it. He leaned against the doorframe, one hand pressed to his chest. Outside, two familiar figures darted about, too absorbed in play to notice his sudden presence.

Sirius run across the garden in jeans and a faded rock t-shirt, laughter bright on his face as he flapped his arms like wings, letting out exaggerated screeches. Clinging to his back, Aster shrieked with delight, dressed only in a cartoon-print top and his nappy, small arms locked tightly around his father’s neck.

The sense of déjà vu returned, his heartbeat quickening until it pounded against his palm. He had seen this before—or something like it. Not a dream, he realized, but a nightmare. The same one that had haunted him night after night when he was still alone.

“Sirius,” he called, though the word slipped out faintly, too soft to rise above the racket of his family’s game.

He swallowed hard, fingers clutching at his own dark shirt as he drew a steadying breath. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he told himself. He was past all that and he knew it. This was real, no matter how his mind was trying to play games on him.

“Sirius,” he tried again, stronger this time.

The man halted mid-run and turned toward him, and Severus almost glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting that faceless woman from old nightmares to materialize. But then Sirius’ bright grey eyes met his own, and in that moment Severus knew everything was all right.

“Look who finally woke up, pup,” Sirius called with a smirk, lowering Aster from his back and setting him on the grass. “Go say hi to mummy.”

The boy needed no prompting. He toddled forward eagerly, arms outstretched. A perfect blend of them both—wild black curls, bright grey eyes, a button nose, and pearly baby teeth flashing behind thin lips. The sight tugged at Severus’ heart, warming him to his core. Here was proof, living and laughing before him, of himself and the man he loved in the shape of such a beautiful child.

He crouched without thinking, arms open to catch the warm weight of his son. Lifting Aster against him, he buried his face in the boy’s shoulder and rose, rocking gently from side to side. The child’s happy babbling seeped into him, soothing the fear that had taken root in his chest.

“Hey there, little one,” he murmured, voice muffled against Aster’s yellow shirt.

“Mama!” Aster squealed, little hands tugging clumsily at Severus’ shirt and hair.

“Yes, I’m here,” Severus whispered, his voice tight. “I’m here,” he repeated, softer still, as if convincing himself.

By then Sirius was crossing the garden toward them, but Severus met him halfway, still clutching Aster close. A question lingered in Sirius’ expression, yet Severus ignored it. Instead, he pressed himself to the broader chest, slid his free arm around Sirius’ neck, and pulled him down into a strong, closed mouth kiss.

It felt like breathing again—like waking from a long, terrible dream. His partner’s lips on his, his son in his arms. They had made it, and this was his life, his family. No nightmare, no illusion. Just them.

They lingered in the kiss, slow and unhurried, until Aster, ever restless these days, began to squirm in Severus' arms. With a soft, contented sigh, Severus pressed one last kiss to Sirius’ mouth before setting the boy down. Aster landed on still unsteady legs, and immediately bounded off, chasing a cricket through the grass.

“My, my,” Sirius murmured, arms sliding around Severus’ waist to draw him close. “That must’ve been some nap, if you woke like this.”

“Hush,” Severus muttered, settling into the mutt’s embrace. One hand slipped into the hair at the back of Sirius’ neck, the other tracing slowly through his scratchy beard.

“Mmm, that’s nice,” Sirius sighed, leaning into Severus’ palm almost like Padfoot would. “I love it when you’re this.”

Severus hummed, lost in the tingling feeling still on his lips. “Like what?”

“Soft and cuddly,” Sirius smirked, rubbing his face on Severus’ hand playfully. “Doesn’t happen often, you know?”

Through lowered lashes, Severus let his lips curl into a true smile—one he knew stole Sirius’ breath away. As the last shadows of the dream faded, he drank in every detail of the man before him, committing them to memory. This was what he wanted to dream of now: not the past, not the haunting what-ifs, but the brightness of grey eyes, scandalous grins, unruly chestnut curls, and a love that belonged wholly to him.

“I’m just…” he began, rising onto his toes, his nose brushing along Sirius’ jaw. He pressed a lingering kiss there, breathing out softly. “…happy.”

Sirius shivered, the tremor unmistakable at such closeness. He kissed him again, this time to the hollow between neck and ear, letting himself be soothed, simply taking pleasure in the warmth of Sirius’ skin. Perhaps, he thought, he had not sought enough of his own joy in this body, this presence. But today, at least, he could begin to correct that, there in the middle of their garden, as their child play and they were basking in the sun.

Their faces drifted close again, noses brushing before Sirius leaned in, capturing his mouth once more, this time allowing the kiss to deepen, lips parting and tongues playing with each other lazily.

There was no rush now, no urgency, and Severus felt blessed for it. Eyes closed, he surrendered to the moment, letting himself be carried by everything Sirius was: his partner, the father of his child, his everything.

When at last they parted for air, Sirius gave him a lopsided, dreamy smile that nearly buckled Severus’ knees. He swayed, eyes fluttering, and he realized that he was swooning more than his pride would normally allow.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Sirius teased, voice warm, “but to what do I owe this sudden attack of affection?”

The mutt knew him too well. Normally such teasing would have earned a scowl or a sharp barb, but right now Severus was, in fact, a tad too needy for his own pride. At least, for now.

“I can stop, if you like,” he muttered, though his face was already pressed into Sirius’ collarbone, clinging to the man and silently demanding to be held.

“Nope. Stay exactly where you are,” Sirius chuckled, tightening his embrace, cutting off any chance of him retreating. “All I’m saying is—”

“Sirius?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Do shut up.”

Another chuckle slipped from Sirius, deep and easy, as his large tattooed hands came up to cradle Severus’ face, thumbs brushing lightly over his cheekbones. Severus lifted his gaze, then covered Sirius’ hands with his own, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Alright, I’ll stop asking questions and just take what I’m given,” Sirius said with a cheeky grin, grey eyes glinting. “But before that… I had a thought.”

“Mmm,” Severus hummed, eyes half-closed as he pressed a soft kiss into Sirius’ palm.

“Oi—stop distracting me,” Sirius huffed, lip caught between his teeth. “I was just thinking… Aster’s growing up so fast…” His voice trailed as Severus’ lips grazed his wrist. “And… well, it would be nice to have some memories of it. So I thought about popping into the city and buying a camera.”

Severus paused, lifting his gaze with slightly widened eyes. “A camera?”

“A magical one,” Sirius clarified, hesitating. “I know they’re not cheap, and we’d have to learn how to use it, but we can afford it and I just thought—”

“I would like that,” Severus cut in.

“You would?” Sirius blinked, his hands slipping down to Severus’ shoulders. “Really?”

It surprised Severus too. He had never cared for photographs, not with the ugliness and self-loathing that still festered at the edges of his mind. And yet, the thought of holding tangible proof of the family they had built, of keeping the memories of their happiness preserved into actual pictures was something that he felt himself suddenly yearning for.

Never again would he wake from a nightmare believing it had all been an illusion. No—there would be photographs of Aster’s laughter, of Sirius’ bright smile. And perhaps, with time, Severus might even allow himself to stand beside them in those frames.

And if the nightmare ever returned, if he woke up in cold sweat, trembling in the dark thinking that he was alone once more, just a glance around would make him remember that it had just been that, a dream.

“Yes,” he sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to the hollow of Sirius’ throat. “Yes. You do that, and I’ll put Aster down for his nap.”

“Alright…” Sirius murmured, tilting his head, brow furrowed as he scratched the back of his neck.

Severus smirked. “And then… once you’re back… I’ll show you my gratitude… for such a thoughtful idea,” he purred, catching them both off guard as he nipped at Sirius’ bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth with a teasing suck before pushing him playfully against the chest.

Sirius staggered back and froze, stunned, but Severus was in too good a mood to care. He moved instead to Aster, scooping the happy boy into his arms and pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. Only then did he glance over his shoulder at his partner, one eyebrow raised.

“Or perhaps you don’t want to?” he asked softly.

Sirius snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly before spinning on his heel. Severus chuckled, smirking to himself as he stepped into the house with Aster. He didn’t think he had ever seen Sirius apparate that fast in his entire life.

Chapter Text

The tea rippled in Severus’ mug as he raised it to his lips. Peace in the house had been broken yet again—fifth time that morning, by his count—and all he could do was sigh.

“But I don’t want to!” came the whine from the living room.

“I don’t care. You’re finishing this equation before you play!” snapped a second voice.

Severus lowered the mug onto the table and pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing in small circles as though he might summon patience that way. Aster, usually so kind natured, had entered a stubborn phase at the age of five—one that translated in him resisting learning anything that didn’t immediately capture his interest.

That particular morning, it was the turn of basic maths, and Sirius had volunteered to soldier the fight of the day so Severus could enjoy a rare day free of both brewing and tutoring. It had been a considerate gesture—Severus had already endured one exhausting row that week over the necessity of learning geography—but serenity was difficult to savour when shouts carried clear across the house.

“You’d better be finished when I get back!” Sirius barked, before striding into the kitchen.

Severus, eyes still on his book, turned a page with a soft exhale.

“Not fond of algebra, I take it?” he murmured, lips curving in the faintest smile.

Sirius collapsed into the chair beside him, flicking his wand toward the counter to summon a mug of coffee. He took a greedy swallow, then let out a loud, weary sigh.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “He’s always been so easy-going, eager to learn…”

“It’s just a phase,” Severus replied, finishing his paragraph at last and setting the book aside. “It will pass.”

“I hope so,” Sirius muttered grumpily, tipping back in his chair to balance on its rear legs.

“Stop… that,” Severus began, only to falter mid-sentence as his gaze finally shifted to his husband. He blinked, his mouth falling open. “Sirius?” he said slowly.

The man glanced at him with a nonchalant hum. “Yes?”

But Severus’ eyes had fixed on his hair. Sirius’ mane, usually a rich, dark brown, was not the same that morning. From his hairline forward ran a stark, white streak, cutting cleanly through half his head.

“Have you…” Severus began, his gaze flicking between Sirius’ face and the pale lock. “Have you looked in a mirror today?”

Sirius frowned, brow furrowing as he tilted his head. “Er… no?”

Severus covered his mouth with his hand, half to stifle a laugh, half in shock. “Perhaps you should.”

Sirius arched a brow but flicked his wand again, summoning a hand mirror from the bathroom. Severus tracked it with his eyes, chewing lightly on his lower lip as he braced for the inevitable.

And it didn’t let itself wait.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Sirius bellowed, leaping to his feet and sending the chair crashing backwards.

“Language,” Severus hissed, his gaze darting toward the door before settling back on his husband.

Sirius ignored him, far too busy spiralling to listen. He gripped the mirror so tightly it nearly cracked, tilting it this way and that as he inspected his head with wild eyes.

“Oh no. No, no, no, no, no,” he whined, dragging trembling fingers through the snowy streak. “This cannot be happening.”

Well, perhaps the reaction was a tad more melodramatic than he had expected, even for Sirius. Severus sighed, massaging his temple. The last thing he needed today was more shrieking.

“Calm down, mutt,” he drawled, folding his arms across his chest.

Sirius froze, lowering the mirror and staring as though Severus had lost his mind. With a near-manic glare, he jabbed a finger toward the offending lock.

“Calm down?” he repeated in disbelief. “You want me to CALM DOWN?”

“For Merlin’s sake, it’s just a bit of white hair,” Severus said, waving a dismissive hand.

Sirius, however, was having none of it. He tossed the mirror aside and began pacing the kitchen, summoning his boots, jacket, and keys in quick succession.

“I’m going to Heraklion right now,” he declared, hopping on one foot as he shoved the other into a boot.

Severus rose at last, abandoning any hope for a peaceful morning. His eyes narrowed.

“And Aster’s homework?” he asked icily.

“This is an emergency!” Sirius shot back, before bolting for the door and nearly tripping over his own feet as he did.

Wincing at the slam of the door, Severus remained in the middle of the kitchen, summoning what little patience he still possessed for what he hoped it was the last time that morning. Outside, the low roar of Sirius’ motorbike rumbled to life, before it faded as the bike vanished into the horizon.

“Honestly…” he sighed.

Just as he about to settle the kettle on the burner, Aster padded into the kitchen, clutching a sheet of parchment.

“What happened?” Aster asked, glancing from Severus to the door. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Your father is having a crisis over his hair. He’ll be back soon,” Severus murmured, rolling his eyes before fixing his attention on him.

Aster tilted his head, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s got white hair now. It’s cool!”

“Apparently, he disagrees,” Severus said with a faint wince. Planting a hand on his hip, he levelled his gaze at his son. “Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes!” Aster chirped, thrusting the page toward him.

Severus scanned the wobbly handwriting with the speed granted by fifteen years of grading essays at Hogwarts. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, though a faint frown appeared on his face.

“All that fuss with your father, and you finished in mere minutes?” he said dryly.

“It’s boring,” Aster replied with a shrug, then flashed a cheeky smile. “Can I play now?”

“Very well, but remember that—ah, never mind,” Severus muttered, the words cut short as Aster vanished from the kitchen.

For a moment, Severus simply stood there, counting to ten in silence before sinking back into his chair. They were impossible, both father and child—and Severus often found himself marveling at the sheer lengths to which they could test his patience. If that wasn’t personal growth, he wasn’t sure what was.

Still, perhaps this was his cue to seize a rare scrap of peace, however brief. He lifted his long-forgotten tea—now ice cold—and took a small sip before returning to his book.

After that little incident, Severus allowed himself to believe the crisis might finally be over. Sirius had tracked down a skilled Muggle hairdresser to disguise the offending white streak—he had refused to attempt it himself, declaring his hair far too precious to risk in untrained hands—and returned home calmer, his mane restored to its usual dark chestnut.

But in their household, peace was always short-lived.

Severus was in the basement, bent over an order due the following week for Heraklion’s magical hospital. The collaboration with the hospital was a recent development, born of chance. Mr. Papadakis, an elderly apothecary and one of Severus’ first customers on the island, had sung his praises to his grandson, newly appointed as the hospital’s pharmacist. Not long after, word of “Prince’s potions” had spread, and Severus had become the hospital’s primary freelance potion-maker.

It had been a surprise—one Sirius met with insufferable pride, showering Severus with so many compliments he was tempted to drown him in the sea. Still, despite being unexpected, it had been a pleasant surprise for once. And above all, Severus couldn’t deny that the work stirred a faint nostalgia, reminding him of the days he had supplied Poppy’s stores at Hogwarts, and perhaps the first time in his life, he felt he truly had the profession he had always wanted, and he was grateful for it.

So there he was, immersed in his cauldrons, brewing Pepper-up and a complex post-operative recovery elixir, when the basement door creaked open. Severus looked up toward the stairs, his hand never pausing in its steady stir of the potion.

“Love, can I come down?” Sirius’ voice called from the top of the stairs. “I brought the herbs you asked for.”

“Come in,” Severus answered, tapping the rim of his cauldron and allowing himself a small smile.

Now that Aster was old enough to entertain himself, Sirius occasionally lent a hand with Severus’ work once the household chores were done—either foraging herbs from the garden or helping with basic ingredient prep.

“Here,” Sirius said as he reached the worktable, setting down a crate brimming with jars. “Aster helped me gather them, and now he’s chasing Nyx around outside. Poor bugger.”

“Kneazles are resilient creatures. I’m sure he’ll survive,” Severus murmured, eyes skimming the labels as his hands began sorting through the containers.

Sirius chuckled, leaning his hip against the table. “Need anything else?”

“No, that’s everything. Thank you…” Severus began, his voice trailing off. He had meant to say more, but his gaze snagged on Sirius’ hairline, and his mouth fell open. “Er…” he managed, lifting a hand to point.

Sirius’ face fell at once. “Don’t tell me…”

He spun on his heel and strode to the sink in the corner, where a small, fogged mirror hung above it. To his horror, two stark white strands gleamed back at him, and Sirius raked his fingers through them, tugging as though that might make them vanish.

“I don’t get it!” he whined, voice rising in pitch. “He dyed it two days ago!”

Severus let out a long, weary sigh. With a flick of his wand, he set stasis charms over the cauldrons, then wiped his hands on a rag. Clearly, this counted as an emergency—at least by Sirius’ dramatic standards.

“You’re over forty now,” Severus said as he approached, voice deliberately calm. “Perhaps it’s normal?”

Sirius whirled toward him, the same wild-eyed manic look from last time plastered across his face.

“Normal? How is this normal!?” he snapped, tugging harder at the white strands. For a fleeting moment, Severus thought he might actually rip them out by the roots.

“Sirius, it’s really not an issue,” Severus said slowly, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Maybe not for you!” Sirius snapped, turning back to the mirror and raking his fingers through the strands as if he could hide them by force. “A grey hair or two I could live with—but this? This is insane!”

Severus tilted his head, studying him with care. “It is rather unexpected,” he admitted.

A shadow flickered across Sirius’ face as his gaze stayed fixed on the mirror. “I look like my father.”

Severus sighed and let his hand slip from Sirius’ shoulder, only to wrap both arms around him instead. Stepping onto his toes to rest his chin against Sirius’ shoulder, he pressed his chest lightly to his husband’s back.

“You’re handsome, no matter what,” he murmured, and even if the words sent a rush of heat to his cheeks, he forced himself past the embarrassment. Sirius needed reassurance more than he needed Severus’ pride.

Sirius stayed quiet for a long while, eyes fixed on the mirror, sadness written across his face. Severus buried his own against the back of his shoulder, holding him tighter.

“I just… don’t get it,” Sirius murmured at last. “It was fine this morning, and now—”

Severus met his gaze through the mirror, brow furrowing. “That’s true,” he hummed thoughtfully. “And this only happened while you were in the garden?”

“Yes…” Sirius groaned, shaking his head. “Do you think it could be the sun?”

“Unlikely,” Severus murmured. He had another suspicion, but first he needed proof. “In any case, I’ll brew you a proper dye. A magical one.”

“You can do that?” Sirius asked, glancing back at him with a flicker of hope.

“Of course I can,” Severus snorted, pressing a lingering kiss against the side of his neck. “Perhaps Muggle dyes don’t take properly on purebloods like you,” he added with a teasing lilt.

“That would be truly shitty genetics,” Sirius muttered, wincing. At last, his hands dropped to cover Severus’, shoulders loosening as he began to relax. “Then again, I suppose white hair isn’t the worst thing to come out of a family tree built on incest.”

A low chuckle escaped Severus as his gaze lingered on the stark streaks of white. He hummed, lips curving into a small, knowing smirk.

“I have to admit,” he purred, lips brushing along the curve of Sirius’ neck, “once you get used to it… it’s rather attractive on you.”

“Being old?” Sirius snorted, rolling his eyes, though he tilted his head to the side in silent invitation. “Hardly.”

“Mmm, I wouldn’t call it old,” Severus murmured, tongue flicking to trace the edge of his earlobe. “More… mature. Interesting, even.”

A shiver ran through Sirius. He cast a glance over his shoulder, one brow quirking. “You… mean that? Truly?”

Severus’ hands slipped free from Sirius’, drifting down to his stomach in a slow caress before sliding lower, fingers easing beneath the waistband of his trousers.

“Oh, yes,” he breathed with a smirk. “Utterly… charming.”

“Sev…” Sirius’ voice broke on his name, half warning, half plea.

“Shush… lock the door,” Severus purred, his long fingers cupping Sirius’ cock before wrapping around it, stroking in a slow rhythm.

Panting, Sirius lifted a trembling hand toward the basement door, sealing it with a sharp, wordless flick of his wand. Severus’ smirk curved wider as he pressed his own swelling erection firmly against Sirius’ back.

“Let me show you,” he whispered against the nape of his neck, hips grinding forward in time with his quickening strokes, “just how much your new hairstyle affects me.”

A low growl rumbled from Sirius’ throat. He caught Severus by the wrist, pushing his hand aside before spinning in his arms. Lowering his head, he crashed their mouths together in a hungry kiss, tongue plunging deep, any thought of white hair utterly forgotten.

It made Severus smile against those lips, and his eager hands slipped lower, wrestling with stubborn buttons and flies until he freed them both. He wrapped his fingers around their erections, holding them together, and the sudden press of hot flesh against hot flesh drew twin groans and a pleasure shiver down Severus’ spine.

It wasn’t often Severus had to remind Sirius of his own beauty. Perhaps, having always regarded himself as something ugly, Severus had taken for granted that Sirius surely knew the truth of how he looked.

But this small incident had proved otherwise. Sirius needed reminding, and Severus was determined to do it right there, now. Because there was no world in which Sirius was anything less than perfect; no reality where Severus wasn’t undone by a single glance from those silver eyes, or left swooning like a lovesick teenager by the flash of that charming smile.

Soon, he had Sirius pinned against the sink, hand working their cocks with steady strokes as they exchanged hungry, messy kisses. Sirius moaned into his mouth, lips slick and spit-slicked, grinding desperately against him, both of them chasing a swift release.

Sirius braced himself on the porcelain rim, widening his stance while Severus stroked them faster, his other hand gripping Sirius by the neck with iron firmness. He pressed their mouths together again and again, only breaking away to ravage the line of Sirius’ throat—biting, sucking, tasting the salt and musk of his skin in a frenzy.

Neither lasted long. When it was over, they slumped against each other, panting into shared breaths, Severus’ knuckles sticky with their release. With a last, contented sigh, Severus leaned tipped his head up and pressed one last lingering kiss to Sirius’ plump, slack mouth.

“You’re… the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” he whispered earnestly, relishing the blush that for once covered Sirius’ face, and not his own. “White hair or not.”

And at last, Sirius smiled against him, wrapping Severus in a fierce embrace and sighing with relief. Clinging close, still breathless, he buried his face in Severus’ shoulder, his body warm and trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured, laughter breaking unsteadily through the words.

Severus threaded his fingers through those unruly curls, the other hand tracing a slow path down Sirius’ back. “You’re ridiculous,” he sighed, rolling his eyes even as he pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.

When he finally drew back, there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Now—enough sappiness. Upstairs with you, while I brew a proper dye for your poor, fragile ego, you overdramatic mutt.”

That should have been the end of the so-called tragedy of Sirius’ hair and his spiral of self-doubts. Severus brewed Sirius a proper magical dye that very evening, a recipe he had seen his own mother prepare countless times. For all her neglect in other matters, she had always been absurdly vain about her hair.

And yet, two days later, Severus and Sirius were jolted awake in the morning.

“Daddy, Daddy, wake up!”

Severus dragged a hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before pushing himself upright. Sirius merely grunted into the pillow, face buried deep, as Aster sat on his back, tugging at his shoulder in a determined attempt to rouse him.

“Aster, let your father breathe…” Severus muttered, glancing toward his husband—only to freeze at the sight before him. Where there should have been a tangle of chestnut waves lay instead a mop of curls white as fresh snow.

“I’m up, I’m up…” Sirius finally groused.

He pushed himself as well into a sitting position, sending Aster tumbling between them, and released a jaw-cracking yawn. Severus watched closely as Sirius absently scratched his head, waiting for the inevitable. It came the moment a pale curl fell over his eyes, and the mutt’s entire body went rigid, his expression snapped from groggy to horrified in an instant.

“N-No…” he murmured, sheer panic crossing his features.

Without another word, he scrambled off the bed and bolted into the bathroom, and even with the door half shut, Severus could hear the choked whine that escaped him.

Clicking his tongue, Severus turned his gaze on Aster, who was staring at the bathroom door with a poorly hidden, mischievous smile. Narrowing his eyes, Severus gave the boy’s shoulder a sharp tap.

“Alright, this ends now,” he said coldly.

Aster’s head snapped toward him, innocence plastered across his face far too quickly.

“What does, Mummy?” he asked, all wide eyes

“Enough of this,” Severus chided, folding his arms across his chest. “I know exactly what you’ve been doing to your father—and it’s not funny.”

Aster swallowed hard, the bravado slipping as guilt flickered across his face, but before Severus could continue, Sirius reappeared. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, twisting one of his snowy curls between his fingers with a grimace.

“It seems not even your dye holds anymore,” he muttered, sounding utterly defeated. “Perhaps… I’ll just have to get used to this.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Severus cut in, eyes sliding back to their son. His tone sharpened. “First, we deal with this young man.”

“Mummy, I—” Aster began, worrying his lower lip.

Severus’ eyes flashed dangerously. “Go to your room, now,” he said dryly, leaving no room for argument. Sirius shot him a puzzled look, but Severus ignored it. “You will read four chapters of Hogwarts, A History.”

Aster’s mouth opened in protest, only to close again the moment he met the infamous glare that Severus once reserved for Hogwarts’ most unruly students.

“And later,” Severus continued coolly, “I will question you on what you’ve read. So you had better start.”

“But I haven’t had breakfast!” Aster whined loudly.

Severus’ nostrils flared. He felt Sirius shift beside him, about to intercede, and shot him a single look that said don’t you dare.

“Your father will take breakfast to your room,” Severus declared, and he slid Aster off the bed by the armpits, setting him firmly on his feet. “Go. You’re grounded for the rest of the day as well. We will have a conversation later—and I assure you, I do not appreciate cruel pranks in this house.”

Something flickered in Aster’s eyes, but one more withering glare was enough to send him trudging toward the door, tail tucked firmly between his legs.

As the door clicked shut, Sirius raised an eyebrow, white curls falling around his face as he shook his head.

“Care to explain what that was about?” Sirius asked hesitantly.

Severus rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you haven’t worked it out yourself.” He sighed, raised his wand, and flicked it with a precise wave. “Finite incantatem.”

Just like that, the whiteness vanished as if it had never been, and a rich chestnut colour flooded back through Sirius’ curls. He gaped, plucking out a lock and staring at it in awe.

“How—?” he managed to ask, eyes wide.

Severus rubbed his temples. “I’m afraid it was Aster all along,” Severus sighed, and leaned back against the headboard. “My guess is that the first time it happened it was accidental, when he was upset with you about maths. But then, he realised it bothered you and decided to continue with the joke.”

“What,” Sirius blanched.

“He’s inherited your dreadful taste for mischief,” Severus said softly, settling his wand back on the nightstand and stretching his arms. “But don’t worry. I’ll put an end to it—right here, right now.”

Sirius kept raking his fingers through his hair as if making sure the chestnut colour hadn’t vanished again. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and rubbed his face with both hands.

“Shall we build a well and chuck him inside?” he groused, collapsing back on the pillow with an exaggerated groan.

“Tempting,” Severus’ lip twitched slightly upward with a barely contained smirk. “But perhaps we don’t need such drastic measures just yet. A grounding and a proper talk will do.”

“You’re only saying that because he didn’t turn your hair white,” Sirius huffed, nudging Severus with one foot. “I can’t believe he did this to me!”

Severus couldn’t contain a small snort, shaking his head. “And I can’t believe you failed to notice it was a simple ink charm. I suspected as much by the second time—but really, Sirius. Outwitted by a five-year-old.”

“Excuse you,” Sirius shot back, glaring from where he was sprawled in the mattress. “I was a little preoccupied thinking I’d suddenly turned into an old man to imagine our child was behind it.”

“Perhaps this is karma reincarnated,” Severus purred, leaning over until he hovered above Sirius and tapping his nose with one long, elegant finger. “The prankster… pranked.”

A hand caught Severus’ wrist, pushing it away. “You are a cruel man,” Sirius muttered.

“Serves you right, Grandad,” Severus drawled, glancing at him from beneath dark lashes.

“I’ll show you who’s a grandad.”

“Please do, but later,” Severus said smoothly, dodging Sirius’ half-hearted attempt to tackle him back onto the bed. “For now, you have more pressing duties. I’ll see to breakfast, and then you’re going to have a serious chat with your spawn about how pranks are not acceptable in this household.”

With that, Severus rose briskly, shrugging on a robe as he made for the door. His expression remained stern, but as he stepped into the corridor, the corner of his mouth betrayed him, curving upward.

Yes, this was karma, indeed. Gentle, poetic karma. And Severus fully intended to relish every single moment of it.