Entry tags:

fic, sirius/james, sirius/snape/regulus, smut

Fic: Shadows, Sirius/Regulus/Snape, Sirius/James, NC-17
This is for Julie. I don't think I could write (or attempt to write :P) Snackulus for anyone else.

Title: Shadows
Author: foreword
Disclaimer: I am fucking canon, as per usual! No offense, JK LOLZ. :))
Pairing: Snackulus (Sirius/Snape/Regulus), with a side of Sirius/James, and maybe a dash of Remus/Sirius subtext.
Rating: NC-17 yaye!
Summary: There weren't any colours any more, only black and pale and sex and pain.
A/N: For xylodemon! Sorry this is so not cheerful. :(( I was so going to write you something cheerful, I swear!

More notes RE: my fucking with canon at the end. :D

***

He was cold, irrational fury.

Black on black haunted him; pale, thin bodies twisting and twining together, a mess of green sheets and dark colours that Sirius hated, that he'd learned to hate, that stood for everything he was against. Everything that hated him.

His dreams were always like this, and when he was awake, reminders lurked in the shadows. Glimpses of sallow skin and something he'd never understand were just in the edge of his vision, but when he turned, or blinked, they were gone.

Matching tattoos burned him from a distance – burned his eyes with tears he'd never shed.

He shouldn't have had Regulus. Not him. He wasn't supposed to be like them. Sirius had made sure of that. Sirius had promised him.

He'd been thin, sickly pale – constant darkness in his eyes and around them, never speaking unless spoken to. He'd been afraid.

But Sirius had been brave for him. He had to be.

"Don't worry. I'll get her for you. Someday, I'll get her back. It's okay. It'll be okay."

It hadn't been much to her – just a scratch, really. Bellatrix never played nice and she was older, she was stronger. Regulus shouldn't have played with her, shouldn't have let her take him into her little game, but he'd never been able to stand up for himself, not when he was young.

Sirius wiped the blood from his brother's mouth and promised him.

They'd never tell, but Sirius would never forget.

It was all he could remember. Flashes of Regulus haunted him, swam in his thoughts, followed him wherever he went.

He had tried to forget, tried to replace him with dark hair and awkward fumbling, but it was never the same. It was never Regulus.

The first time he kissed James he thought he'd forget, thought he would be able to push it from his mind, thought the darkness would recede. When James kissed him, hard and hot and wet, he nearly forgot the pain that Regulus's silence brought him.

He blamed it on the sorting hat, but it wasn’t that. It hadn't been about what a sodding hat said. It shouldn't have mattered.

It wouldn't have mattered.

But Sirius wasn't there to protect him anymore. He hadn't meant to break his promise, but he had.

And by the time they were reunited, things had shifted. Regulus laughed now, but not with Sirius. He laughed with them, like he was one of them.

Regulus grew up too fast. He never had a chance. He was supposed to have a chance, but when Sirius left, left him there, he took it with him.

They were strangers sharing the same space that first summer back from Hogwarts. Regulus ignored him, hated Sirius the Gryffindor, thought he was stupid and idealistic and brash. Regulus had plans. Regulus would be someone.

When Sirius came home from school that first year, Regulus had moved his things out of Sirius's room. He was too old for that now.

Sirius hated him, hated what they'd done to him.

James Potter hadn't seemed like much at first – all messy hair and gangly limbs and glasses – but in him Sirius found a kindred spirit. When he was with James, he could pretend he didn't care. When he was with James, he didn't care.

Later, he would twist his fingers in thick, messy black hair and he'd almost forget. He'd forget how neat and sleek and smooth Regulus's hair had been, and lose himself in the dark.

He thought about him often, stealing glances across the Great Hall at meals until that fateful day when Sirius saw him whisper to Regulus.

He was nothing like what Regulus deserved. He was ugly – greasy, pale and dark-eyed – with a huge, hooked nose and a permanent sneer. He wasn't beautiful like Regulus. But there he was, whispering in his brother's ear at the breakfast table. Regulus smiled and blushed, and the ugly boy smirked.

Sirius hated him instantly.

He had seen him in classes the past few years, but he'd never paid any attention to Severus Snape. Not until that very moment. It wasn't long, however, before he became Sirius's all-consuming obsession.

James was easy enough to convince.

He was always so warm, so hard and ready and twisting underneath him. The first time Sirius kissed him it burned, his eyes shut tight against what this might do, Firewhiskey warm and thick and sour in his mouth as they stumbled back against the bed.

There were mumbled curses but nothing else except for the hot, wet slide of tongues and the firm, heavy weight of James against him. He was nothing like the girls Sirius had kissed, fumbling behind Quidditch stands or under a borrowed cloak. James was all hardness and sharp angles and Sirius wanted it to bruise, wanted to feel this for days.

But in the dark, in the night, when James had stumbled off to his own bed, sated and slow with alcohol and sex, Sirius would drift off to sleep, into a world of him and Regulus and things they could never be.

There weren't any colours any more, only black and pale and sex and pain. Regulus laughed at him, young and weak and helpless but mocking, smirking at him as Snape fucked him.

Sirius couldn't tear his thoughts away from the dreams, and every glance, every brush of an arm or shared smile reminded him. He hated them both, hated them for haunting his every dream, every thought, every night.

He hated them even more because he wanted them.

James never questioned, never pushed, and when Sirius would come to him sober, crawling into his bed and pinning him down and taking his anger out on James with bruising kisses, sharp bites and desperate thrusts, James would let him.

And it wasn't long until he couldn't sleep without the release.

Remus was watching him then, Sirius knew. He felt his eyes on him always, knew that somehow, Remus knew.

Sirius was getting sloppy, was staying longer in James's bed. Too long. Some nights it was hard, too hard, to convince himself to leave the safety of a warm, hard body for the shadows of his own empty bed. When he was with James, they couldn't get to him. At least, not at first.

They were dementors, sometimes. They lurked in the dark recesses of his mind, cold and laughing, and nothing was happy anymore, even in the warmth of James's bed. Sirius hated them until he knew that he had to have them.

James went home for winter break their sixth year and Sirius was alone. He spent his days with Remus and Peter, but Remus watched him with a knowing look and it made Sirius feel guilty, somehow.

Nights were agony.

On the third night, Sirius snuck out. James had left him the cloak, with a crooked grin and a knowing wink, and told him to stay out of trouble.

Sirius had no intention of staying out of trouble.

He found his way to the dungeons without even thinking, letting his fingers brush along the cool stone of the walls as he roamed the corridors … aimless until he stumbled into precisely what he was looking for.

He didn't think he'd ever seen such colour in his brother's face, with the exception of his run-ins with cousin Bella, those sticky summer afternoons when she'd slash her wand through the air until he bled out colours she liked.

Sectumsempra.

This was worse than the blood, when his cheeks were flushed a different red and Snape – Snivellus – was thrusting into him from behind, Regulus gripping a desk, his naked cock flushed and hard and weeping against the wood.

He was dreaming again, this wasn't real. This couldn't be real. This was the stuff of shadows and nightmares.

Regulus had grown quite a bit, well into the stranger that lived with him during the summers, no longer the boy he'd made promises to so long ago, and Sirius nearly didn't recognise the pale, lithe form of his body stretched out in the shadows, muscles tensed and hair falling into his face.

Sirius propelled into action before he had a chance to think. He couldn't think.

Snape was cursing and Regulus was moving, falling back into the shadows and clutching at robes he'd rescued from the floor, glaring at his brother with a twisted sort of emotion in his eyes as Sirius reached Snape.

His fist connected with the side of that sneering face in one smooth, fluid movement and now they were tumbling together, limbs tangling as they toppled and fell, hitting the cold stone with a sickening crack, still rolling and hitting and Snape's nails raked across his face and arms, trying to draw blood. Sirius should have known he'd fight like a girl.

There was silence behind them and Sirius wondered if Regulus was still there as he finally pinned Snape to the floor, gripping his wrists above his head with unnecessary cruelty.

Snape was hard and cold and naked underneath him, nothing like the warm, inviting flexibility of James, his hard-on digging into Sirius's hip as Sirius shifted against him.

He glared up at him and Sirius hated him, hated him for fucking Regulus, for replacing him even when he had done the same with James. He wasn't sure what made him kiss Snape, still, but suddenly he was bending his head toward the other boy, a subtle flash of terror in Snape's eyes just before their lips met, mouths crashing together in a kiss that was more teeth than tongues. Snape was rigid underneath him and Sirius shifted against him hard, his own cock stiff and trapped under his trousers between them, the material heavy and rough against Snape's belly and he had a strange, distant thought about whether or not he could breathe.

He tasted blood and wondered if it was his or Snape's as he released his grip on the other boy's wrists, reaching between them to take hold of his naked cock and Snape moaned against his mouth, jerking up against him helplessly as Sirius stroked him, hard and angry.

There was the soft sound of fabric dragging the floor behind him and suddenly Regulus was jerking his face away with a sharp tug on Sirius's hair, pulling him away from Snape and Sirius wondered only briefly if he would hit him before his brother's mouth was on his, warm and soft and tentative. Sirius forgot all about Snape, all about James because right now, right here, it was just him and Regulus.

"Don't."

Sirius didn't ask what, didn't need to know. He rolled off of Snape, pulling his brother down to him, letting him fall against him, heavy and naked and fragile and his, his cloak falling down around them. Sirius kissed him and remembered, in the warm, soft caution of Regulus's affection.

He shifted against Sirius and Sirius moaned, and now cool, calculating fingers were tugging on his trousers, slipping between them to fumble with his flies as Sirius slid his hands across the naked skin of his brother's back.

This wasn't real, it couldn't be, and Sirius waited, even as they tugged off his trousers and shorts, even when he was on his knees and Regulus was twisting in his arms, away from his mouth in spite of the anxious jerk his brother's stomach gave.

Sirius was waiting for it to dissolve, to disappear.

Regulus was tight and warm and perfect around him, and Sirius was lost in the hot tug and pull as he fucked him, gripping his hips like he'd fade to shadows any minute and Sirius would be alone, and Regulus would be a stranger again, a figment of his tortured imagination. Another way for them to hurt him.

Snape knelt before them, his prick still flushed and hard and wet against his belly. Sirius growled as Regulus took him, too, Snape's cock thick and slick in his mouth as he rocked between Sirius and Snape.

Snape sneered at Sirius even as his cock disappeared down his brother's throat and Sirius felt a hot, new flash of fury, his hips snapping hard up against Regulus as he came, and it was dizzying and terrifying and it was all he'd ever wanted.

That was how it began, but not how it ended.

He couldn't be what they were, and Regulus couldn't be anything else. He didn't want Sirius's promise anymore, didn't care for right or good, and Snape only pulled him further into the darkness.

Sirius didn't see them in his dreams anymore.

They weren't dreams here. They were real. James was gone, and Regulus was gone and only Snape remained. Only Snape could have really been here, but they lived with him, in the dark, in the grey.

James and Lily twisted between the bars, and they'd morph into Regulus, dying for a cause he never should have supported, dying needlessly and alone as Peter and Snape laughed.

When everything else had faded to dull noise, his anger remained, thick and hot and steady, and it was all that could convince him that he was still alive.

***

A/N: Ahhh yeah, Snape says he came up with Sectumsempra, but er. For the purpose of this story, I thought it would be more fun if Bellatrix did! And used it on Regulus in its testing stages yaye! And then Regulus could tell Snape about it! :D :D :D

:-*