The Taming

Severus was reminded far too late why he had been apprehensive about accepting Regulus’s offer. 

The pure-blood was an absolute menace to sleep in the same bed with. Regulus tossed and turned constantly in his sleep, unintentionally slapping and jostling Severus in the process. 

At one point the pure-blood kneed him right in the arse. Severus nearly cursed him out, but when he turned to confront the Slytherin, he found Regulus in a deep sleep, oblivious to the inconvenience he was causing.  

If Severus had less of a conscience, he would’ve hit Regulus back and played it off as an accident. Instead, he just insulted the Slytherin in his head while trying to get some semblance of rest.   

Regulus had the audacity to greet him in the morning with a beaming smile, which only added to Severus’s displeasure. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, far too happy for his liking. 

Severus responded by burying his face under a pillow, mumbling something unintelligible. It was far too early in the morning for pleasantries. 

Regulus shook him. “Come on, I got you some breakfast,” he said, trying to coax the half-blood out of the covers.  

Severus removed the pillow from his face and gave the pure-blood a harsh glare. It was the least harmful of the things he had wanted to do to him at that moment. 

"Oh, don’t give me that look! I already told Rosier and them that I need your help on a potions assignment, so I get to be your keeper today,” Regulus joked.   

Merlin, it sounded as though he were the Slytherin pet, being passed around from student to student to ‘look after.’

“What horrible luck,” Severus said sarcastically. 

Rolling his eyes, Regulus dug into his robes, fishing out something wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Here, eat this. Maybe you’ll be less moody if you have some food in you.” 

Severus was about to refuse, but the loud sound of his stomach growling made it so that all protests were futile. He reluctantly grabbed the cloth, opening it to reveal two slightly crumpled scones. 

“Erm, sorry about that,” Regulus said abashed. 

He didn’t mind, though; he had eaten far worse when his family fell on hard times. “Let’s go to the common room. I don’t want to get crumbs on your bed,” Severus mumbled, his voice thick as he was still waking up.

Regulus grabbed a potions tome, parchment, and a pot of ink. When they found a corner to sit in, he sprawled the items about, making it look like Severus was actually tutoring him. The pure-blood prattled on about Quidditch as Severus picked at his scone, breaking it into small pieces before eating it. 

A memory flashed in his head of Lily and how she used to poke fun at how he ate. She said he looked like a squirrel, hunched and picking apart his food. He quickly suppressed that thought; however, any memory of the redhead brought a pang of guilt. 

When he made it to his second scone, the door to the common room began to form, and pissed-off Avery stalked in, his nose a nasty purple. The pure-blood’s eyes narrowed when they landed on Severus and Regulus. He made his way over to them, crossing his arms once he reached their table, giving the two of them an ugly sneer. 

“What happened to you?” Regulus asked, a strange expression on his face. 

Avery’s face twisted into a deeper scowl. “Your brother—that’s who.” 

“Sirius? Why would he—" 

“Why don’t you ask Snape?” He then turned to Severus, “You had to make your boyfriend go off and defend your honour, too much of a coward to go do it yourself?” 

Severus blinked, trying to process what Avery was telling him. “I don’t know what you’re—” then it hit him; memories from last night flooded his mind. Right before they had gotten caught by Filch, the dark, cold look on Sirius’s face, the promise to find who had hurt Severus and make them stop. 

Was this what he meant? 

Looking at the dark purple bruising on Avery’s nose, Severus swallowed thickly. “I didn’t tell him to do anything.” 

Avery raised a brow. “Yeah? Well then tell him to stop.” 

“Lay off him, Avery. You know how bullheaded my brother is,” Regulus defended. Severus had to hold back his slight shock over that. He had never defended him before. 

The pure-blood simply scoffed before leaving. 

He was surprised at how quickly Avery let it go once Regulus butted in. Though he supposed that it made sense. The Blacks were at the top of the hierarchy when it came to pure-bloods; arguably, only the Malfoys could rival them. 

“He’s mad,” Regulus muttered. 

“Well, he did just get punched in the face,” Severus reasoned. 

Regulus looked away from where Avery stormed off to and towards Severus. “No, not him, Sirius.” 

“That’s what I’ve been telling you, Reg. He’s been acting off. He even invited me as his plus one to Slughorn’s stupid party,” Severus said, the last part absentmindedly as he played with his food. 

Regulus stared at him for a moment, a strange expression on his face, before his eyes brightened in a way that told Severus he was up to something. “You should go.” 

Severus nearly choked. “Did you get hit on the head? Why would I go with him?!” 

The pure-blood leaned forward. “Because Slughorn invited Belby.” 

He raised his brow at that. “And?” Truthfully, that had piqued his interest, but he was stubborn and refused to let Regulus find that out. 

Regulus seemed a little disappointed that Severus didn’t play into his hand. “Is that not the one you fancy?” he asked genuinely. 

Severus’s face turned bright red. “I don’t fancy him! I just admire his intelligence!” His voice came out at a higher pitch, which just added on to his embarrassment. 

A sly grin appeared on Regulus’s face. “Well, crush or not, you should go. You can get your name out there and make a good impression. Who knows, you might even get an apprenticeship! I hear that he has a spot open.”

Severus frowned. It sounded too simple. Nothing in Severus’s life had ever been easy. He’s had to fight for every small victory since as long as he could remember; even then, the chance of him succeeding was minuscule. 

“That’s not going to happen. Some rich pure-blood is going to get the spot like always,” he said bitterly. 

“You don’t know—” 

“Of course I know Regulus; just look at me,” he said, gesturing to his unkempt appearance and threadbare robes. “How could you possibly think that someone like me has a chance against someone like… like you? ” 

A hurt look appeared on Regulus’s face, and Severus felt a bit guilty. But he was naive. He didn’t know what it was like to work for something, to not feel like you’re owed anything because of who you came from. He had the confidence and innocence of someone who never had the world chew them up and spit them out. 

Though he couldn’t blame the bloke, it wasn’t his fault. 

The pure-blood looked down at the table for a moment. Severus was about to apologise before he lifted his gaze back up. “How about I help?” he suggested. 

Severus let out a sigh. “Regulus, you’re not paying—” 

“No, no money, Slytherin’s honour. I... I just want to help...” 

He raised a brow. “And how are you planning on doing that?” he asked. 

The mischievous glint returned in Regulus’s eye. “We’ll make you look like me!”

Severus stared blankly at him. 

Regulus’s cheeks turned a light hue of pink. “Erm—well—not me exactly, but like a pure-blood!” 

Him? Looking like a pure-blood? Now he was sure that Regulus had gotten hit over the head. Or perhaps there had been a dark, nefarious curse that made all Blacks act strangely. He would test that theory out, but that would mean that he had to interact with either Bellatrix or Narcissa, which he would rather not. 

He was sure that even the most skilled wizards wouldn’t be able to make him look posh. It was impossible to get the stench of poor off of him; it lay dormant underneath his skin. Anyone that saw him just knew he wasn’t well off.  

And he hated it. 

“I don’t think—” 

“Please, Severus. I… I’m not able to defend you publicly. At least let me do this for you,” he said, giving large pleading eyes. 

Severus looked away and scoffed, “Fine , but if I look ridiculous, I’m out,” he muttered. 

Truly, it was a horrible idea, but as long as it shut the younger Slytherin up, he supposed he could bear it. Besides, he was going to look ridiculous so he could entertain Regulus for a bit before ultimately deciding on not going. 

Regulus gave him a mischievous smirk that made Severus immediately regret agreeing to this. “Great! Meet me at lunch!” 

“Lunch? Isn’t his party during dinner? Why are we starting so early?” he asked. 

“Because I didn’t say this was going to be easy .” 

Severus rolled his eyes but agreed to meet with him nonetheless. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Regulus’s dorm was a mess. Robes and various other trinkets were laid strewn about on his bed and floor. Regulus mirrored his room; his hair was in disarray, as though he had been messing with it in frustration.

When he spotted Severus, he grabbed a towel from his bed and threw it at him, “Go hop in the shower.” 

Severus, who somehow caught the object, raised a brow. “You do know that there’s a charm to prevent someone of my blood from entering the washroom, right?” 

“Yes, well, I was able to take it off… but only for a couple of hours, so go!” He said, shoving two bottles into Severus’s hands. 

Severus looked down at the bottles carefully. Some long French sentence was plastered on both. He scrunched his nose. He was sure that whatever he was about to put in his hair was going to be pungent. 

Regulus, who saw the confusion on Severus’s face, quickly explained, “It’s shampoo and conditioner.” 

“I know what they are,” Severus hissed, slightly offended. 

Before he had met Lily, Severus had no clue that there were products specifically for washing hair. He thought it stupid and a waste of money. A bar of soap could get the job done just fine. 

Regulus raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him. He supposed that he couldn’t blame him. Cleaning charms never particularly worked on hair, but Severus never really cared about his appearance enough to worry about that. 

“Whatever you say. Use the shampoo first—wash with it twice, actually, and make sure to scrub your scalp. Use the conditioner only on the ends of your hair.” 

Severus rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say, Mum.” 

Regulus wagged a finger at him, “If you half-arse it, I will know, and I will make you go back in there and do it myself.” 

He scoffed. Severus could easily take down Regulus; his threat was entirely baseless. Nevertheless, he headed into the washroom. 

It was rather posh, a lot nicer than he thought it would be. He felt as though his presence alone was dirtying the place up. 

He decided it best to get into the shower as quickly as possible. If he stayed looking around any longer, he was sure he’d change his mind. He swiftly took off his clothes and set them aside. 

Severus didn’t like being unclothed. It made him feel too vulnerable. He also hated the fact that he could visibly see all of his flaws that he typically covered with his oversized clothing. His concerning thinness and his pallid, sickly skin, which brought further attention to the scars that marred his body. 

He didn't understand how someone like Sirius could possibly find him 'attractive.' He was handsome, unfairly so. Though he would never admit it to the bloke, his head was already big enough as is. 

There clearly had to be something going on, a curse, a prank, something. 

He turned on the water, making sure it was hot. 

Hot enough to start producing steam. 

Hot enough to turn his skin pink. 

Hot enough to distract him from thoughts that he didn’t wish to think about. 

Spinner’s End didn’t have warm water. This would’ve been an opportune time to succumb to the luxury of a comforting, warm shower. But Severus didn’t want to feel comfortable. He needed a reminder that he didn’t belong in such spaces. 

That he’d never belong. 

Severus followed the instructions that Regulus gave him. The shampoo had smelt rather nice, a little more pretty than he’d imagined, but Regulus didn’t seem the type to like musky scents. 

His hands began to cramp as he scrubbed at his scalp. He had to make sure it was clean lest Regulus try to stay true to his word. 

Just when Severus had finished up and dried himself off, Regulus’s voice echoed into the room. “Are you done?” he asked.  

“Yes,” Severus hesitantly replied, opening the shower curtain to walk out. He had put his old clothes back on, not comfortable walking around in just a towel.

Regulus entered the still steamy washroom with more products in his hands. His hair was fixed, and he was sporting a different set of robes. 

“Now what is all that?” Severus asked, suddenly very concerned about what the pure-blood was going to put him through. 

The younger Black pointedly ignored him, continuing to walk over to the sinks and dumping all the items onto the counter. Severus, curious, walked over to where he stood. 

Just like the shampoo and conditioner, they all had French scrawled on them. 

“Is this really necessary? I don’t want you wasting your products on me.” 

Regulus turned to him, pulling out his wand and casting a drying spell on Severus’s hair. His body shivered at the sudden change of temperature. “It’s not wasting. I have plenty.” 

He then set on his way to put as many products on Severus’s face as possible. He was put through several levels of hell. He made sure to voice his discomfort the entire time, much to Regulus’s chagrin. 

Regulus refused to let him look in the mirror; instead, he manhandled him out of the washroom and back into his dorm. Where he showed him a long, elegant robe. 

“No,” Severus said resolutely. “I am not wearing your clothes.” 

Regulus frowned, “Why not?” 

“I don’t want to muck them up; besides, people are obviously going to know they’re yours.”

“No, they won’t. I haven’t worn these yet. And there's a charm to clean robes, so don’t worry about it.” He then pushed them into Severus’s hands once more. The half-blood finally acquiesced. He thought it strange, owning clothes and never wearing them. 

He looked at the robes with a heavy sense of judgement. The fabric was nice, softer than anything he had ever touched. Was it velvet? Or silk? Severus wasn’t too familiar with fabrics to tell. 

The robes were black, a simple silver embroidery spread across the hem. 

He felt like he was dirtying them just by touch alone. 

“Go try it,” Regulus pushed. “If you don’t like it, we’ll find something else.” 

Severus grumbled but still complied. He forced Regulus to turn around as he quickly changed into the new robe. 

The fabric felt nice on his skin, very different from his usual itching, piling robes. 

When Regulus turned back to face him, his eyes widened. 

Severus grew slightly self-conscious. “What? Do I look ridiculous?” 

“No, quite the opposite. Let me just—" He grabbed the piece of fabric that wrapped around Severus’s waist and pulled tighter on it, cinching his waistline to the point where he could barely breathe before tying it into a deathly strong knot. “Perfect.” 

“Merlin!” Severus gasped, “Are you trying to kill me?!”  

“Don’t be so dramatic! That’s the traditional way of wearing robes. Now look,” he said, grabbing Severus by the shoulders and turning him to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. 

When he looked upon it, he almost didn’t recognise himself. For the first time in his life he looked clean. 

He was still thin, his nose was still big, and his teeth were still crooked and yellow, but he looked like a well-off ugly bloke, which was better than a poor one. 

Regulus frowned at Severus’s lack of a reaction. “Do you not like it?” He asked, dejected. 

“It’s… fine,” Severus bit out. If you put makeup on a troll, it still looked like a troll. Regulus could only do so much. 

The boy looked disappointed. 

“What? Sad I’m not the Cinderella to your fairy godmother? I’m afraid I’m not as fair of face as her,” Severus teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

Regulus just turned confused. “What’s a ‘Cinderella,’ and why am I your godmother and a fairy?” 

Severus rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Can I get out of this?” He asked, too tired to explain muggle fairy tales to him. 

“No! Why? Aren’t you going to the party?” Regulus pressed. 

“Because I don’t belong, Regulus. There’s a reason that Slughorn’s never invited me personally,” he reasoned. A few years ago he felt scorned by it; now he just felt nothing. 

“Just come, please. I’ll be there, and if you start to feel uncomfortable, you can come get me, and we’ll leave.” 

Severus let out a deep sigh. “Fine , but you owe me.”  

Regulus nodded and grabbed hold of Severus’s elbow, giving him no choice but to head towards the party. “We’ve got to hurry. You’ve already made us late,” he jabbed, and Severus scowled. He wasn’t the one who decided to douse himself in every potion known to man. 

He doesn’t tell Regulus that he feels nervous. 

Nervous about how he looked and what others would think, something he didn’t pay much mind to before. 

Nervous about possibly making a horrible impression with Belby. 

Nervous because Regulus obviously had some ulterior motive for doing this, he was a Slytherin after all. 

And most of all, he was nervous about Black. Though he wasn't sure why. 

Severus feels as though a hand has reached out and clutched his stomach as they neared. 

“Calm down,” Regulus whispers in his ear. “You’re more rigid than a broomstick.” 

“Thanks, that’s making me feel a thousand times better,” Severus hissed sarcastically. 

Regulus smiled, about to say something when suddenly the entrance doors to the party violently burst open. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dinner was an unpleasant affair. He spent most of it third-wheeling James and Evans.

His friend paid sole attention to her, completely enraptured with the witch.

That left Sirius to poke around at his meal, his head violently jerking up when he heard the door open, like a dog when its master returned, only to look back down dejectedly when it hadn’t been Snape. 

His worry for the Slytherin made his food taste like ash.  

Snape had missed dinner entirely. 

That was fine; dinner was just a small part of the party. It was mostly just a prologue to the actual event, meant as a time for Slughorn to introduce his guests and give the students a spiel over how they came to be acquainted. 

When dinner ended, James and Lily abandoned Sirius. 

For the first twenty minutes he stood against the wall, surveying the crowd for Snape. Plenty of people came up to him, asking him to dance, but he distractedly turned them down. 

He could see James and Evans through the crowd, big smiles on both their faces as they swayed to the slow, enchanting music that the Hogwarts elves played. James, at one point, dipped Lily down at an inappropriate time in the song; a shocked shriek followed by pearls of laughter came out of the witch. 

Sirius’s mood soured even more. 

Then he had to remind himself that he was doing this for them. That their relationship was the real one, that he and Snape were mere pawns in the game to get them together. He had no right to feel like a heartbroken fool. 

He didn’t know why he felt so, he hadn’t even liked the git. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As time stretched on, Sirius’s worry began to fester, breaking into multiple ranges of emotions that all led to rage. 

If Snape was in trouble, he’d be furious with whoever decided to mess with him even after Sirius’s initial warning. He scanned the room; Avery, Mulciber, and Rosier stood around a potioneer. He didn’t know their name, but apparently they must’ve been important, as the lot of them cranked what little charm they had up to one hundred. 

The usual suspects were here it seemed like. 

So that had to mean that Snape had stood him up. 

His fists clenched at his side, and he quickly left the boisterous room. 

As he slammed the door open, nearly hitting two people about to enter. His pissed expression lightened slightly. “Sor—” And as a familiar set of eyes met his, he realised who it was. 

Snape. 

He thought he’d boil over when he finally came face to face with the bastard, but instead, all the rage fizzled out, leaving some strange feeling fluttering in his chest. 

The Slytherin looked different. His hair was well-washed and out of his face, falling delicately on his shoulders. It looked soft. Sirius almost wanted to reach out and touch it. 

His skin was radiant; it reminded him of the moonlight, bright and pale, which only exaggerated the consuming darkness of his eyes and dark lashes. 

He was sure he stopped breathing entirely. 

He was beautiful. 

This would be so much harder than Sirius initially thought.