InsaneJournal

Fic: Three Heroes
Title: Three Heroes
Author: nishizono
Characters: Severus/Draco, Sirius
Rating: R
Warnings: Chan, some violence
Disclaimer: Sadly, they aren't mine.

Summary: Three men are three men, and heroes or not, they still kiss and bruise as easily as everyone else.

Author's Notes: Written for snegurochka_lee, who was kind enough to take me up on my offer at livelongnmarry. Even if you missed the auctions, it's not too late to show your support for same-sex marriage. Please consider making a donation to Equality California to help secure a future in which everyone is free to marry the person they love.



Lamentation One: Severus and the Dragon

It started with a whisper.

Just two words, just two syllables, breathed soft and sweet against his ear: "Fuck me." And somehow he'd known, with the accidental touches and sideways glances, that the day would eventually come. But for all his late-night ruminations and recitations of replies, he was still caught off guard by the glittering innocence of it: "Fuck me."

Neither of them asked why, because they both knew the answer: they were going to die for causes they weren't sure they believed in. Severus was a pawn for Dumbledore, Draco was a pawn for Lucius, and there was an odd sort of comfort in sleeping with the enemy.

So when the boy came to him, Severus didn't turn him away; no, he dragged Draco inside by the front of his robes, slammed the door shut and pressed him back against the wall. Draco was flushed and wide-eyed with boyish charm, and when his lips parted to let his tongue dart out to lick them, that was more invitation than Severus could resist. Holding the boy's chin between his thumb and forefinger, he bowed his head and caught that pink little tongue between his teeth.

Draco mewled and all but climbed into his arms, all soft warmth and wriggling hips. Unprepared for the onslaught, Severus stumbled backwards by a step before regaining his balance. It was a short trip from the door to the bedroom, and he managed it with his eyes closed, his mouth meanwhile occupied with fending off an assault from sharp, tiny teeth that nipped at his bottom lip.

"Someone should have you declawed," Severus murmured as he set the boy down at the end of the bed.

Draco gave no reply save for a brief, knowing smile and a flutter of blond eyelashes when Severus thumbed open the clasp on the front of his robes.

Severus watched the heavy garment slide off the boy's shoulders and pool on the floor at their feet. When he found Draco naked beneath the satin-lined wool, he flicked a glance at the boy's face and drawled, "I assume you're not as inexperienced as you pretend to be, Mister Malfoy."

"Of course I am," Draco replied, but there was a devilish gleam in his eyes as he turned and crawled onto the bed. The muscles in his back shifted when he dipped his spine in a perfect arch, and his knees slid whisper-smooth over the sheets as he spread his thighs.

Severus was thoroughly enchanted. With a low hum, he climbed onto the mattress behind the boy and traced the line of Draco's spine with a fingertip.

"I always thought your hands would be cold," Draco whispered, bowing his head. The back of his neck was dotted with fine white hairs that shone like strands of glass in the lamplight.

And Severus understood, for the first time in his life, what it felt like to be utterly seduced.


Lamentation Two: Sirius and the Serpent

"I know you're fucking him."

Snape's quill paused above the sheet of parchment he'd been steadily defacing with his rampant scrawl, and he looked up through the clumps of hair that had fallen into his face. The shadows of Grimmauld Place had crept into his cheeks, burrowed their way into the craggy lines around his mouth and folded themselves into the spiderweb veins beneath his eyes.

"The boy," Sirius growled. The jagged ridges of his fingernails were biting into his palms, and he flexed his fingers, itching to clamp them down tight around Snape's throat.

"You needn't clarify, Black; I'm well aware of who I'm fucking."

The lack of shame in Snape's voice made Sirius shiver. There he was, twisted up and sick inside, and the bastard had the steely-eyed nerve to look at him without a trace of remorse or conscience. In all the regrettable years they'd known one another, Sirius had never hated Snape more.

"Now that you've delivered that thrilling little morsel of news, you have my permission to retreat back into your hole and continue your utterly useless existence," Snape drawled as he bowed his head and scratched his quill across the parchment in narrow, black lines.

"They'd have your balls if they knew." Sirius pressed on through clenched teeth. "I wouldn't be surprised if Albus himself hexed your lying arse halfway to France."

Snape paused again, but this time he didn't look up from the page. "Is this your pathetic attempt at blackmailing me?"

"No, it's me telling you that you're not going to get away with it," Sirius spat as he stalked across the room and slammed his hands down on the desk. "Malfoy's kid is sixteen, Snape. Sixteen. Do you know what that makes you?"

There was an awful silence before Snape finally raised his eyes from the parchment and fixed Sirius with a glare. "I find it surprising that you, of all people, would approach me over something as trivial as the age of my sexual partners."

"Trivial?" Sirius was genuinely astonished. "You think it's trivial that you're-- you're molesting a teenaged boy?"

That seemed to trigger something in Snape, because he rose to his feet and leaned over the desk to press himself nose-to-nose with Sirius. "That teenaged boy all but pleaded with me to take him to my bed. Can the same be said for yours?"

"I haven't--" Sirius began, but an aching, familiar guilt welled up in him, and he swallowed hard.

Snape smiled-- actually smiled, crooked and yellow-- and replied, "Touched him? That hasn't stopped you wanting to, though, has it? You've been mooning after him like a lovestruck schoolboy, with your James-this and James-that. Oh yes, I've noticed, Black. We all have. But while the others might tisk-tisk and shake their heads at your failing memory, you and I know the truth, don't we?"

Sirius shook his head and took a step back from the desk-- and god, he wanted to deny it, but the knowing gleam in Snape's eyes wouldn't allow for cowardice. All he could do was stand and wait, watch with horrified fascination as Snape rounded the desk and approached him, leaving a whisper of tattered wool in his wake.

"One thing I've never understood about you, Black, is why you seem to think you can set yourself apart from me," Snape murmured as he circled Sirius. "You and I are exactly alike, but while I make no apologies for my sins, you still hide from your guilty self-loathing behind a veneer of bravery and honor. But what are you, Black? What are you, really?"

Sirius growled and slapped away the orange-tipped fingers that had reached out to touch his face.

After decades of enmity, he should have known better than to instigate any kind of physical contact, because it always ended in violence. This time was no different. Snape grabbed him by the front of his robes with one hand and slapped him hard across the cheek with the other. Sirius, having never been one to back down from a fight with his old schoolyard nemesis, retaliated with a blow to Snape's jaw that had enough force behind it to send them both sprawling on the floor.

"Fuck you," Sirius snarled as he landed atop Snape in a pile of jutting elbows and bared teeth.

But Snape continued, undaunted, by wrapping spindly fingers around his throat and squeezing. There was something intimate about the gesture; it formed some kind of terrifying connection between them that they could never have achieved with wands and spellfire. Sirius didn't react until the hand tightened and he heard the heavy thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears.

"Harder," Sirius choked as his vision darkened at the edges. "Come on, you bastard, fucking kill me. I know you want to."

And just like that, Snape's grip on his throat loosened. Sirius gasped for breath and slowly reached up to grab the other man's wrist. Leaning forward, he rested some of his weight in the cradle of Snape's thumb and forefinger and whispered, "Kill me. Do it."

"I'm not going to kill you, Black." Snape sounded weary and drawn. "Merlin knows I've thought about it, but I'm not going to kill you."

Sirius grunted as he was roughly shoved to the side, and he pushed himself into a sitting position with his hands braced on the floor behind him. His throat felt tight and raw, but he didn't know if it was from having been nearly strangled or from the guilt that was still gnawing its way up from his stomach. Once he'd regained full control over his breathing, he whispered, "Why?"

"The boy needs a hero," Snape replied as he pushed to his feet and straightened his robes. Looking up through his tangled hair, he glared at Sirius and murmured, "Unfortunately, you're the best he has-- and if you care for Potter half as much as you claim to, you'll not disappoint him when the moment comes for you to protect him."

In a perfect world, a man like Snape should never be allowed to speak of things like heroism with such authority. But the world was far from perfect, just like them, and Sirius had absolutely nothing to offer but a defeated nod.


Lamentation Three: Draco and the Chimera

"What's that?"

"That's an acorn," Draco replied as he dropped into a crouch and examined the object his son was holding. "It's just like the other one you showed me, do you remember?"

"There's more acorns?" Scorpius asked, watching with wide blue eyes as Draco plucked the seed from between his grubby little fingertips and stuffed it into the pocket of his robes.

Draco laughed and reached out to finger-comb his son's tousled hair. "There are lots and lots of acorns, and lots and lots of trees that make them."

Sometime in his first five years on Earth, Scorpius had picked up his mother's habit of tilting his head back and gazing at the sky while he thought. This time, he added a loud hum, and flapped his arms at his sides a few times before asking, "Are there more Scorpiuses?"

"I certainly hope not," Draco replied with a huff. "You're a handful enough, and besides, even if there were more Scorpiuses, you're the best of the lot."

But Scorpius had already turned his attention to the granite headstone Draco was kneeling in front of, and was hesitantly reaching out to touch the engravings. "What's this, Daddy?"

Draco sighed and pulled his son into a backwards hug. Resting his chin on the boy's shoulder, he asked, "Do you remember when I told you about Severus?"

Scorpius nodded vigorously.

"Well, this is a place for people to come and think about him when they miss him," Draco murmured as he covered his son's hand with his own and helped Scorpius trace the name carved into the stone. "And even though he isn't here anymore, this chunk of rock will be here for a long, long time. I'll bet you that a hundred years from now, people who didn't even know him will come here to think about him."

"Why?" Scorpius asked, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down in a childish frown.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. There was no such thing as a simple explanation when it came to Severus Snape. The man had hoarded spite and cruelty the way other men hoarded gold, but one thing Draco had learned during the war was that a man needn't be fair or kind to be a hero. In the end, Severus had sacrificed his life to protect a world that had never given him anything but grief, but more than that, he'd given Draco something that no one else had: a choice.

"Are they remembering somebody too?"

Draco glanced in the direction his son was pointing. On the other side of the cemetery, the gaudy memorial that had been erected to Sirius Black's memory towered over Potter and the little boy standing next to him. When Potter caught Draco watching, he slowly raised a hand in a hesitant wave. Years ago, Draco would have either taunted Potter for the gesture or pointedly ignored it. This time, he nodded.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, they're here to remember someone too," Draco answered, giving his son a light squeeze before turning him loose again.

Scorpius immediately turned to look at him, still frowning. "Daddy, will they put you here when you go away?"

"No, probably not," Draco answered quietly, staring over the boy's shoulder at Snape's name. "I don't think I deserve to be here."

Then, before he knew it, he was being attacked by an armful of wriggling, clinging five-year-old. The boy's thin arms wound themselves around his neck and hugged him tight enough to make the blood rush to his head. Draco choked out a surprised laugh and tried to disentangle himself from certain death at the hands of his overly exuberant son.

"You do deserve to be here, Daddy," Scorpius insisted, refusing to budge an inch.

Draco chuckled and settled for scooping the boy up into his arms as he stood. "We Malfoys seem to get more and more ambitious with every generation; I swear I was at least twelve before I started plotting your grandfather's death. Now, why do you think I deserve to be here?"

"Because," Scorpius declared, then dropped his voice to a whisper as if imparting some great secret, "I love you."

That wasn't at all the response Draco had been expecting, and he stared down at his son for a moment-- his beautiful, clever son-- before smiling and folding Scorpius into another tight hug. No, it wasn't the reply he'd expected, but it was, perhaps, the best definition of 'hero' he'd ever heard.