Black

"Black," Severus growled, when he stepped inside Grimmauld Place, receiving only a nod of the head and a sneer to rival his own. Ever since Dumbledore had found the two literally at each other's throats – outside the mansion's single bathroom – they were on strict orders to be perfectly civil to each other. And somehow, even though Albus rested peacefully in his grave, Severus still felt the warning crackle of his magic every time he felt like giving the mutt a good kick.

-

"Black." Severus didn't look up from the periodical, deeply involved in a short article about the effect of Muggle-prepared pickles in potions. He received no answer, but a soft stomp across the hall and a door that would have been slammed, if there was nothing living in the curtains of Grimmauld Place that might panic. Black was fuming – quietly – and had been for a week, but Potter had ordered his godfather to allow Snape sanctuary in his home, and Black, on general principles, refused to refuse.

-

"Black," murmured Snape, waking up slowly over a steaming mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal, the bite gone from his voice after a month safe inside the crumbling house. Black grunted, his eyes half open, shuffling into the kitchen in a faded pair of jeans and warmth-charmed socks. As far as Snape could see, he'd given up his 27-year war against the Slytherin, peacefully (enough), coming to accept Snape's loyalty to Potter. And Snape, without the stress of spying for both masters and hiding from Death Eaters and Aurors alike, had visibly fully relaxed, his hair growing past his shoulders, bony body filling out. Not even a hippogriff could set him off. Well, not the one in the attic.

-

"Black?" Severus said softly, following the sound of a loud crash in the parlor. Stepping quickly through the hallway, he found Black on the floor, engaged in a furious tug-of-war with a large spiderlike creature, which had a good four-legged grip on his jeans. Black, stark naked but for a plain pair of socks, gave a fearful look at Snape, whose mouth hung open as he stood in the doorway. Severus picked up the nearest book, strode over, and whacked the creature square on the head. It crumpled.

In the fifteen seconds that followed, Snape discovered how deeply Black could blush.

Hours later, Snape was staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, lying on his back in his rickety bed. The man had had no need to blush, really. Severus raised an eyebrow in the darkness, causing the bed to crash to the floor.

-

"Black…" Snape tugged the blanket back over himself, causing it to slip off the animagus, who had positioned himself as far away from Snape as possible. This was the only other bedroom on the floor—they needed to be able to scream to each other for help, just in case. Black sighed and shifted a bit closer, managing to pull the ragged blanket over his body and not bother Snape.

-

"Black…" A moan broke free from Severus' throat as he threw his head back in bliss, hips thrusting against those of the animagus. Black licked and sucked at the Slytherin's throat, his hands dug into Snape's hips. His legs intertwined with those of the other man, and he let his own wild thrusting take over his body. They moved in unison, two men as one, wildly tonguing and biting and kissing and groaning. The bed shook. Dust rose into the air. Something scuttled across the floor, but neither paid attention to anything other than the man to which he clung, the only man who gave him a window of pleasure in this dark, bleak, war-filled life. And Severus shouted once more as his world exploded with satisfaction.

"Black!"