Chapter 1
Sirius
I still remember the first time I saw him.
It was a grey September morning, the kind where the sky looks like it’s been rubbed with ash and the wind’s just sharp enough to make you regret not bringing gloves. We were standing at the edge of the train station, boarding passes in hand, me cracking jokes and pretending not to be absolutely dreading the start of this god-awful boarding school. James was beside me, his mum fussing over his collar, Remus stood behind us both, already reading something thick and sad-looking. And Peter was bouncing on his heels, trying to act casual but clearly buzzing to be part of something big.
Then they showed up.
Lily Evans, bright red hair, wide smile, and eyes like she actually wanted to be here. And beside her was him—Severus Snape.
He looked like a walking thundercloud, coat too long, dark hair hanging in his face like curtains meant to keep the world out. And even though he barely said a word, he saw everything. Including me.
He looked at me once, just once, and it was like he’d already decided everything he needed to know. I think I said something—God, I wish I hadn’t—something about his nose. A stupid joke, the kind you make because you’re nervous and a prat and young and haven’t yet figured out how to not ruin things.
“You’ve got a massive nose” I’d said, smirking. “You could probably smell the lunch menu from here.”
Of course you haven’t,” the boy snapped. His voice was cutting—sharp and brittle, like broken glass. “You’ve never had to step outside your manor gates.”
For a moment, Sirius froze. The words sliced cleaner than they should have.
He blinked—caught off guard, just for a second
Because yeah, okay. That was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t stepped outside the gates much. Not until he started sneaking. Not until he figured out how to disappear for entire days in London without anyone noticing he was gone.
He hated that damn manor.
But no one was supposed to see that.
No one ever talked to him like that.
People usually heard “Black” and stepped back. Looked at his last name, his posture, his polished accent, and assumed he had all the power in the room. That he was exactly what his parents wanted him to be: pure, perfect, polite. The next great Black heir.
But this boy—this wiry, haunted thing with a blade for a mouth—he didn’t flinch.
He looked at Sirius like he saw through him. That kid had scars behind his eyes. He recognized them. And that scared the hell out of him.
And Sirius hated it.
So he smirked. Shifted his weight, curled his lip. Let something darker rise to the surface, like armor.
Whatever that kid thought he knew—he could be wrong. He would be wrong.
He watched Severus’s eyes flick down. Just slightly. He looked away first.
Victory, Sirius thought—but it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel like anything.
James tried to fix it, of course. That’s what James does. Sorry about him,” he said, elbowing me in the ribs. “Sirius says stupid things when he’s nervous. Or breathing. “I like your eyes,” he added. “They’re kind of… stormy. In a good way.”
And just like that, Severus’s expression changed. Only a flicker, but it was real—like someone lit a match in a dark room. He didn’t say thank you. But for the rest of the ride, he looked at James like he was the only one who’d ever seen him.
And every since, he’s looked at James like that. Like James was the first person to ever say something kind and mean it.
Remus hit me over the head with his book without even looking up. “Try not to be a walking insult today, Sirius.”
Peter snickered quietly next to him, then immediately looked away when Severus glanced his direction.
“We all introduced ourselves, awkward and half-shouting over the engine. Lily did most of the talking—she and Severus were from Cokeworth. Somewhere in England that sounded made-up to me.
“Never heard of it,” I said, because of course I did, trying for curious but probably landing somewhere near obnoxious. Severus snorted. “Of course you haven’t, Black.” The way he said my name—it was acid. Like he’d been holding it in his mouth all morning and just now got the chance to spit it out.
Peter shifted awkwardly behind James, but James—always the peacemaker—laughed it off. “I haven’t heard of it either, but I’m curious is it near London?”
And Severus—of course—lit up. Not a lot. Not enough to make a scene. Just enough to stammer out something about old mills and tight streets and a ice cream shop he liked. Lily smiled at him like he’d just solved world hunger.
And he still didn’t look at me. Not once. But I watched him the whole ride. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop.
Even now, in 7th year, I don’t think I’ve ever looked away