Chapter Text
The cottage was quiet, the kind of deep, settled silence that only came with snowfall and years of hard-won peace. The fire had burned down to amber coals and the walls creaked softly with the hum of their wards. The night was still.
Until Severus gasped awake. A proper gasp, ragged and sharp, like surfacing too fast from water far too cold. His entire body jolted, chest heaving, breath caught halfway between panic and pain. The sheets were twisted around his legs, soaked with sweat. His hands were clenched so tightly his nails had left bloody crescent moons in his palms. He didn’t know where he was. His throat refused to work, caught on a sound too close to a sob for him to allow. His eyes scanned the darkness wildly, catching shadows that weren’t really there, corners where they used to be, blood that wasn't there anymore but still felt fresh, he could still smell it.
“S-Sev?” came the groggy, broken sound from beside him. Sirius sat up, instinct kicking in as his hand shot out, landing warm on Severus’s back. “Sev, hey—hey, I’m here.” But Severus flinched, jerking away before he could stop it. His whole body was coiled tight, like it hadn’t remembered how to be safe yet. His chest was heaving, breath coming too fast. Much too fast.
Sirius froze. And then, softly, like one would speak to a wild frightened creature, he said,
“Severus. It’s me. Sirius. You’re here. In the cottage. Safe. It’s just us here...”
Still no response from Severus, still caught in something awful. So Sirius moved slowly, positioning himself in front of him, still shirtless, his hands raised in open offering. “Can I touch you?”
Severus finally blinked. Swallowed. Gave the smallest nod. Sirius reached out and pressed their foreheads together. It wasn’t some magical spell, it wasn’t even a fix, but it anchored.
“I’ve got you...” Sirius whispered, again and again, a steady heartbeat of words. “You’re alright. You’re safe. I’ve got you...”
Severus's breathing hitched, then stuttered, and finally broke—a sob torn from his throat like it had been trapped for years. He slumped forward, into Sirius’s arms, and clung to him with a desperation that felt much too raw to be from a single dream. And Sirius held him like the whole world had gone dark except for this. They didn’t talk at first, Severus curled against Sirius, damp with sweat, still shaking slightly. Sirius ran his hands through his hair, kissed his forehead, didn’t flinch when Severus’s nails dug hard into his back. When Severus finally spoke, it was barely a sound, more of a low rasp.
“I thought... I thought I was back there.”
Sirius knew what there meant. The Shack. The battlefield. The cold stone floor of that place...
“Woke up to voices. My own, I think. But I—I could smell it. Hear it.” He swallowed hard. “I thought I was bleeding out....”
Sirius kissed the side of his throat. “You’re not.... You’re right here with me.”
Severus nodded faintly. “Did I wake you...?” he murmured. “When was the last time you slept?”
Sirius chuckled, but it was hollow. “No need to make it about me, I'm fine...”
“You never do. That’s why I’m asking.”
Sirius hesitated. “I have them too. Sometimes. Usually quieter than this.”
Severus leaned back, just enough to look him in the eyes. “And when you do… do you wake me?”
Sirius didn’t answer. So Severus pulled him down. Covered him with the sheet. Tangled their limbs tight. Pressed his mouth just beneath the soulmate mark on Sirius’s ribs.
“Next time, you wake me. No exceptions.”
Sirius exhaled, shaky and full. “Okay.”
They lay together in the dark, not speaking, not sleeping—just being. And when sleep came back, eventually, it was wrapped around them both like armour.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Severus’s voice was sharp—too calm, the way it always got when he was actually angry. His arms were folded, fingers white-knuckled where they gripped his sleeve. Sirius stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, hair tousled, sleeves rolled up like he was halfway between fleeing or fighting. His jaw worked, tense.
“I wanted to surprise you.” he said again, softer now. “It’s not the lab, Severus. It’s a door.”
“It’s the entrance to my space.”
“It’s our home.”
Severus didn’t flinch. “Not every room belongs to the both of us.”
Sirius went quiet at that. Because it was true. Severus’s lab was sacred. Not just practically, but personally. A space that he could control, perfect, protect. Sirius knew that—had learned it—after that first disastrous year together when he’d rearranged the entire rack of ingredients and nearly gotten hexed for it.
And now? He’d replaced the door. Without asking. Sirius dragged a hand through his hair again, frustrated with himself, frustrated with the silence growing between them.
“I wasn’t trying to overstep...” he said. “I thought… I thought you’d like that it was from me. That I put something ours on it. The dog, the cauldron—it’s stupid, I know, but—”
Severus finally cut in. “It’s not stupid.”
Sirius blinked. Severus’s voice was still tight, but lower now. More tired than angry.
“It’s not stupid,” he repeated. “It’s… sweet. In your own infuriating, impulsive way.” He exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “But it’s my threshold, Sirius. I didn’t want it changed.”
They stood there for a moment, heavy quiet between them.
Then Sirius, quieter than before, murmured, “We’re not doing it again, right?”
Severus looked up, confused. “Doing what?”
“Going to bed angry. Not talking. That week—after the jar thing last year—we were awful. I was awful.”
Severus’s expression softened, ever so slightly.
“No,” he said. “We’re not doing that again.”
Sirius crossed the space between them slowly, warily, as if Severus might still shove him away. But Severus didn’t move. When Sirius reached for his hands, Severus let him take them.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius murmured. “Really. I should’ve asked. I keep thinking I’m doing something nice and instead I just stomp all over your space.”
“You do stomp,” Severus replied, but there was the faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth. “You stomp with good intentions. And a complete lack of forethought.”
“I’d like that engraved somewhere.”
“I’ll put it on your tombstone...”
Sirius smiled at that. “Can we… not go to sleep upset tonight?”
Severus stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against Sirius’s.
“That rule stands.”
“Good.” Sirius breathed. “Because I hate not touching you... I didn't mean to fuck anything up.”
“You hate doing the dishes, too. But I see no remorse when you avoid that.”
“Fair.”
They stood there, in the low kitchen light, the fight simmered down but not vanished. Not erased. Just softened. Like they’d taken the sharp edges of it and held them with care.
“I’ll change the door back.” Sirius offered. “Or just… let you pick the next one.”
Severus shook his head. “Leave it please...”
Sirius blinked. “Yeah?”
“You carved us into it...” Severus muttered. “And I’m angry. But not so much that I want to erase that part.”
And that was the olive branch. Sirius leaned in and kissed him. Slow. Apologetic. Loving. And when Severus kissed back, with that small, quiet sigh he only made when he was finally letting the fight go, Sirius melted into it.
Things were still a little tender, a bit sore, but they were together like they promised they would be.