The last laugh
The castle had never felt so suffocating.
Severus moved through the halls like a shadow, every step precise, controlled. His injuries ached with each movement—his ribs still bruised, the wound at his shoulder a dull throb—but he didn’t care.
Because Sirius Black was finally back.
He had slithered into the Great Hall that morning like nothing had happened, wearing the same smug smirk, laughing too easily with Potter and Pettigrew. Untouched. Unbothered.
Severus’ hands curled into fists beneath the table.
No more waiting. No more games.
It was time.
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Severus knew exactly how to get Sirius alone.
It wasn’t hard. The Marauder was arrogant, predictable. He wouldn’t ignore a challenge.
So Severus made sure to catch his eye.
A single look across the Great Hall—sharp, knowing. A ghost of a smirk.
Sirius’ expression shifted.
Confusion. Then anger.
Good.
By the time lunch ended, Severus was already gone, disappearing into the castle’s quieter corridors. He knew Sirius would follow.
He always did.
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The abandoned classroom was silent.
Severus leaned against the far wall, arms folded, waiting. His wand rested against his palm, but he didn’t raise it. Not yet.
Footsteps.
Then—
The door slammed open.
Sirius stood in the doorway, breathing hard, his jaw tight with barely concealed fury.
“You think this is funny?” he hissed.
Severus smiled. “Hilarious.”
Sirius stormed forward. “You should be grateful, Snivellus. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
Severus let the words settle. Let Sirius think he still had the upper hand.
Then, softly—
“You will wish I wasn’t.”
Sirius froze.
Something about the way Severus said it—calm, certain—made the air go thick.
For the first time, Sirius hesitated.
Severus saw it.
Felt it.
And then—he struck.
It happened fast.
Sirius barely had time to react before Severus’ wand was pressed against his ribs.
“Confringo.”
The explosion was small, controlled—but enough to send Sirius crashing back. His back hit the desks, a sharp gasp ripping from his throat as his shoulder took the brunt of the impact.
Severus didn’t stop.
He closed the distance in two strides, grabbing Sirius by the collar and slamming him into the wall.
“You think this is a joke?” Severus whispered, voice cold. “You think I’d just forget?”
Sirius struggled, hands shoving at Severus’ chest, but he was pinned. His wand was still in his pocket, useless.
“You could’ve killed me,” Severus continued. “No, you wanted to kill me.” His grip tightened. “So tell me, Black—”
He leaned in.
“Why shouldn’t I return the favor?”
Sirius’ breathing was uneven, but Severus saw it—the flicker of something beneath the anger.
Doubt.
Fear.
And that—that was what he wanted.
“Let go, Snape,” Sirius growled, but his voice wasn’t as strong as before.
Severus tilted his head.
Then, slowly, he let go.
Sirius barely had a second to breathe before Severus struck again.
A sharp punch to the ribs—not magic, not a spell. Just violence.
Sirius choked on a gasp, doubling over.
“You never expected me to fight back, did you?” Severus whispered.
Sirius tried to straighten, but Severus shoved him down, kicking his legs out from under him. Sirius hit the stone floor hard.
For the first time, he looked small.
Severus stood over him, wand in hand. His lip curled.
“You’re pathetic.”
Sirius wiped blood from his mouth, glaring up at him. “You—”
“Shut up,” Severus said softly. “You don’t get to talk.”
Sirius flinched.
Severus exhaled slowly, letting the moment stretch. Letting Sirius feel what it was like to be helpless.
Then, finally—
He stepped back.
“Don’t follow me,” he murmured. “Unless you want to see how far I’ll go.”
Sirius didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
And Severus left him there—broken and silent.