Chapter Text
There was an eerie silence in the headmaster's study.
Shortly after their revelatory conversation, both men agreed to seek out a place that was as sheltered as possible. Here, high up in the castle tower, they could retreat without worrying.
Scrope had brought them two cups of tea a few minutes ago and left without saying anything. He only gave his master a nervous sideways glance. He was slouched in his armchair and the house-elf felt as if he was reminded of something from the past. Scrope, however, did not dare to make a sound without permission and so the loyal elf disappeared again to attend to his duties.
Sharp, meanwhile, inwardly thanked Scrope not to comment on the scenario. He didn't trust his voice or his mind to formulate a reasonable explanation. Besides, the potions master didn't feel in a position to explain to anyone what was going on.
He felt exhausted, drained. Mentally and physically. The steps up to the study had already sapped his strength, causing him to slump heavily onto an armchair and Black was no better.
Trepidation took hold in the room, which was already far too small. It was as if their words had come after them, only to pile up between them like a wall.
The exact opposite of what Sharp had hoped for from this whole affair.
Maybe it had just been too much.
Too many words, too much pressure, too many emotions and probably even too much truth. And both men still believed, without the other realising it, that they had said too little.
A test for their already weak souls, against which not even their hearts, still swollen with excitement, could cope.
Surely, everyone would tell them now, it would be best to keep their distance and stay away from each other. So that they could both think about all this in peace. But being alone, with himself and his thoughts, was out of the question for Sharp. Especially when he took a closer look at Black.
Lost in thought, almost apathetic, the headmaster looked out of the round window. His hands lay in his lap and were clasped tightly together, definitely to the point of pain. The leather of his gloves creaked softly with every movement of his fingers and Sharp felt the tension emanating from Black as if it were his own. Even the tea had so far gone unnoticed by Black.
Sharp had already drunk half of his cup, but Black ignored his drink completely and it was doubtful whether the headmaster had even realised that his house-elf had provided him with the beverage.
Sharp felt like he had to intervene. Say something, do something... But everything seemed wrong. Talking was difficult for him, but this quiet between them, their silence, the uncertainty, that was even worse. Sharp had to question his urge to always get to the bottom of the truth. Wasn't he making everything unnecessarily complicated? Did he even have the right to put this burden on Black to open up to the ex-auror? Perhaps the answer was simple, but Sharp could see no real way out of this confusion.
Wearily, Sharp closed his eyes and rubbed the fingertips of his hand over his heavy eyelids.
Next to him, fabric rustled on fabric, making Sharp sit up and take notice. The headmaster had barely moved and if Sharp hadn't heard Black shift, he would have thought the other was still sitting there unchanged.
Black breathed in and out shakily and Sharp became increasingly worried about him. If this condition persisted any longer, the ex-auror would have to start thinking about taking Black to the hospital wing. No matter how much resistance he encountered. Just as Sharp was working out a plan to get the headmaster to matron Blainey unnoticed, his thoughts were interrupted.
"You asked me what my first kiss was like."
They were Black's first words since they had left his office. The headmaster spoke so quietly that Sharp had trouble hearing him properly. His first kiss? What made the headmaster think of that, especially at this moment?
At first glance, it seemed irrelevant and perhaps inappropriate to talk about it now. But the feeling nagged at him that Black had a specific reason for bringing up the subject now. Nevertheless, Sharp didn't think the headmaster was in any shape to talk about this sensitive subject. The man already looked distressed enough and Sharp didn't want to burden him any further.
"I had, but let's leave that story for another day. Here," Sharp reached for Black's still-full teacup. "Have a sip, it'll calm your nerves. Scrope has a knack for that sort of thing..."
Slender fingers laid themselves on Sharp's and he pulled his hand away as if he had burnt himself. He looked nervously at Black, who was gazing at him with pale eyes.
"Please. Don't you tell me how I should feel, too. Please, listen to me." Black turned away from Sharp again. "It's important."
The potions master sank back. It had never been his intention... And not him as well? Sharp noticed an unease inside him.
He cleared his throat and signalled his apologies to Black. The headmaster waited a few seconds and when Sharp said nothing more, he sat up straighter.
He took a deep breath and let his gaze wander out of the window.
When he began, the tremor in his voice was even more audible.
*
Phineas Nigellus Black stood in front of the floor-length mirror and adjusted his coat. As he did every morning after arriving at his office in the Ministry, he made sure he looked perfect from head to toe for the day ahead.
Ever since he was little, probably even before he could walk properly, he had been taught that a person's appearance was essential for making a good first impression. So it was not surprising that the young heir to the Black family always took a lot of time to create his well-planned ensembles. His hair and beard, which he grew, never looked out of place or showed signs of being unkempt.
A knock on his office door interrupted him from combing the top of his head into a perfect line. With one eyebrow raised haughtily, he snarled a half-hearted "Come in."
The wooden door swung open and instantly Black's expression brightened.
"Charlie! What a marvellous surprise. When did you get back to London?"
The man addressed, Charlston Pipbrook, a candidate for an Auror post and son of the parchment maker and bookbinder Jeremiah Pipbrook, stepped into the office and removed his dark top hat from his head. With a wink, he hung it on the clothes rack and leant his walking stick next to it. Behind his back, he pulled out a previously hidden bouquet of lilies and held them out to Black with a slight bow.
"It's nice to see you again too, Mr Black. I apparated back four days ago and wanted to surprise you with my presence."
Visibly puzzled, Black stared at the flowers in front of him and at his colleague. He and Pipbrook had grown to be good colleagues since they had met at Hogwarts in their final year and were now in close working contact at the Ministry. Pipbrook had even been to Black's wedding.
Pipbroock bringing him flowers was new. They had certainly exchanged a few souvenirs from their travels for the Ministry, but flowers had never been among them. Hesitantly, Black accepted the bouquet and simply nodded his thanks.
Pipbrook straightened up again and scrutinised his friend insistently. Black looked sheepishly at the flowers in his hand and felt a slight blush cover his cheeks.
This kind of affection towards each other had already developed at Hogwarts. Pipbrook had probably approached him in the school garden for the same reason. Alone, he had intercepted Black, who was collecting some bamboo leaves, and offered him his help. Black was only too happy to accept, not wanting to touch the dirty plant himself without knowing who he was thanking.
Months of Pipbrook's tentative approach followed and although Black didn't really understand what his friend wanted from him at the time, as he was already promised to his future wife Ursula, Black liked the attention. How attentive and polite Pipbroock was back then and how charmingly he always talked about and with Black.
A few days after Black's wedding, Pipbroock confessed to him that he felt more for the other man and wished to have these feelings reciprocated and deepened. Young and foolish as Black was at the time, exhilarated by amorous recklessness, he agreed to Pipbroock. Either way, his marriage to Ursula was entirely different from what one would expect from an ordinary marriage.
Black said only this much: Ursula and Pipbroock often met for tea and the future mother looked forward to his every visit.
They had been working together for a while now. Chance probably guided their careers, as Pipbroock liked to put it. Even though Black knew that his father pulled the strings in his professional career, he was glad that fate had at least provided him with a pleasant companion.
But even now, Black still found it difficult to show any signs of affection in public, or rather, he didn't dare give Pipbroock more than a smile. He only used his first name when they were alone and only when there really didn't seem to be anyone around. So it wasn't surprising that Black had never allowed anything other than conversation or occasional physical contact. So far, they hadn't even shared a kiss. Except for a few times when Pipbroock had kissed the back of his hand or a cheek. It seemed too dangerous to Black.
A hand went to his upper arm and Black looked up. Pipbroock looked down at him with a tender smile, his eyebrows drawn down in concern.
"What are you thinking about again? You seem sad, Phineas." He looked at the flowers between them and sighed. "I should have had them sent to your house, right? If Ursula had taken them, it wouldn't have been noticed."
It pained Black how sad his friend's voice sounded and he shook his head. "Not at all, I'm delighted. It's an unusual gift, but nothing people will talk about." Black turned to his desk and placed the flowers there. "At least I hope so..." he whispered. But Pipbroock heard him and grabbed Black's shoulders to turn him back towards him.
"You're always so worried about us. When will you understand, I will never let them, him, find out."
Black looked deep into his eyes and absorbed every word into his soul. Of course he knew that, of course he trusted him.
"I know that, please, believe me Charlie. But..." Black swallowed hard. "There's this fear inside me that seems to haunt me all the time. I don't know what else to do about it."
Pipbroock took Black's face in his hands. "Let me take that fear away from you at last." He waited. Naturally, he waited until Black allowed him to do what he thought necessary. And only when Black's eyes reflected this silent consent and willingness did Pipbroock lean forward.
Gently, he placed his lips on Black's and kissed him with all the sensuality he felt for him.
All around them, time stopped in this small office and all sounds fell silent. The whole world narrowed down to just the two of them and warmth spread around them. The light suddenly became brighter, the feeling of their lips together more intense. Hundreds of butterflies were fluttering in Black's stomach and his heart was beating faster than ever before.
He felt alive. So revitalised and yet safe and secure at the same time. The fear that had wrapped itself around his heart melted away under the fire of her love and Black felt he could breathe much more freely. His whole body and soul breathed a sigh of relief.
He had never felt anything like it and he believed he would never be able to feel it again.
Pipbroock released their kiss and looked firmly into Black's eyes.
"My promise to you. More than words could say. It is sealed and I will keep it. You'll never have to feel that fear again. Not as long as I'm allowed to stay by your side."
Black had to grin.
"Then I'll take you at your word!"
The grandfather clock struck, as if time wanted to remind them that they were expected. It was time to step back into the world outside the office door.
Pipbroock took his things and left the office. But before he left, he gave Black a smile that promised him so much. First and foremost, safety.
Then the door clicked quietly into its lock.
Perplexed, Black backed away and put a hand over his mouth. He had done it, he had really done it.
Completely overwhelmed, he had to start laughing maniacally. It must have been like this for all his classmates and friends. It was an indescribable feeling! The young man couldn't compare it to anything else in the world.
So that had been it.
His first real kiss!
How he had wished he had never experienced it…
*
With a heavy heart, the headmaster finished his story and looked into his lap. The memories of that day still weighed bitter-sweetly on Black, even so many years later. He never wanted to lose the memory of that day and kept it inside him like a treasure. On the other hand, the thoughts tormented him whenever he dared to recall them.
Sharp, meanwhile, stared at him with a mixture of shock and sadness. Not knowing how to react to this revelation, he decided not to say anything back. Really, he couldn't think of anything to say, and everything he could probably have said wouldn't form into a decent sentence that couldn't be misunderstood. Everything sounded like a lecture in Sharp's head and Merlin, especially the ex-auror, wasn't in a position to pass judgement on another person and their decisions.
His counterpart, however, interpreted Sharp's silence in a much more negative way. Immediately, Black was filled with uncertainty and he didn't know whether it had been the right decision to open up to someone like that, to reveal such intimate memories...
Black's gaze slid to the floor in dismay and his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap.
Sharp realised that the mood in the room seemed to have deteriorated again. Moving as if on glass, Sharp slid forwards a little on the cushion of his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. With a steady gaze, he set his sights on Black. Quietly and softly, he began to speak, as if talking to an injured and startled animal.
"Thank you. For sharing this story with me and for seeming to trust me enough to even consider it. I won't presume to understand what's going on inside you or how this has affected you. That's not my place. But... I promise you, I will keep it inside me and help you with whatever you've been struggling ever since. Nothing and no one will stop me from protecting what I love."
Black felt a cold shiver run down his spine at these words. They made his heart swell, made him feel that hope again that he had felt in his office for the first time in years. But Sharp didn't understand what he was getting himself into here. What serious consequences his words could have. If Sharp swore to protect what he loved, wasn't it up to Black to do the same for him?
Charlie... I'm so sorry.
"If you really mean what you say, please don't do it. Sharp, Aesop... I don't think we, that I, will be worth all this hardship."
"It will." Sharp's eyes were hard and full of determination. Black, on the other hand, felt tears welling up in his eyes again. He suppressed them with all his remaining strength.
Without elaborating on his words, knowing that neither of them had the strength left for such an argument, Sharp pushed himself up from his chair and held his arm out to Black.
"Come on, let me take you to bed. I'm sure you're as exhausted as you look."
Black nodded simply, but there was a certain unease in his eyes. They might let the matter rest now, but Black knew from experience that they would have to face up to their decision.
Black hooked onto Sharp and let him pull him to his feet.
Sharp carefully manoeuvred the headmaster into his bedroom. There he left Black alone for a few minutes so that he could change into his night gown. When Black had finished and was in his bed, Sharp returned. Not knowing what to do with himself, he pulled a chair to the side of the bed and joined Black keeping a respectful distance.
Silence fell between them again. Without really having a topic of conversation, Sharp decided to bring up a completely different matter.
"It's almost time for dinner. Since you won't be there, at least I don't expect you to be, shall I have Scrope bring you a little something?"
Black actually seemed to consider the offer. Before he could refuse, however, his stomach let out a low rumble that immediately made Black's face flush.
Sharp chuckled and rolled his shoulders. "I guess that was answer enough. Don't worry, I'll make sure no one finds out."
Reassured, Black leaned back in his bed and pulled the covers over his lower body. "Just tell Scrope a new cup of tea and some pate should do the trick. I'm not hungry, I just feel a little peckish."
Satisfied and with a task in mind, Sharp rose and made his way to the Great Hall. Before he left, he made sure that Black was as comfortable as possible and closed the window curtains.
After saying goodbye, he searched the office for the house elf. He didn't have to look for Scrope for long; the loyal servant of the Black family was cleaning the eagle statue at the bottom of the staircase from all the dirt. When he heard from Sharp that there was something for the master to do, Scrope was immediately willing and hurried away.
This submissiveness and eagerness often struck Sharp as strange, but he made no further comment.
When he finally arrived in the Great Hall, Professor Fig beckoned him to join him and the other professors. With a lopsided, tired smile, Sharp marched between the tables of students and took his place at the teacher's table.
Fig immediately leaned towards him and pointed at the mince pies in front of them. "The house elves have outdone themselves once again! Too bad the headmaster isn't here, his loss to miss out on such a delicious meal," the older professor rubbed his hands together before sitting up, as if he had forgotten something. "You wouldn't happen to know where Black is? I haven't seen him all day and after what Matilda told me, I thought you knew something?"
It had been the only right decision to be here and not with Black. Even if Sharp didn't really like it now that he was down here and Black was all alone in his private chamber. But if Sharp had stayed away from dinner and Matilda had got wind of it, neither Black nor the potions master would have been spared her scepticism. At least this way, she wouldn't cause too much of a stir. The last thing Sharp wanted for himself and Black was for their colleagues to start talking about them. It was still too early for that.
What did Sharp actually mean by everything? He didn't know, and to be honest, it only made things more complicated. But he could worry about that later. For now, he let Fig's stories ease his turbulent mind.
With the welcome distraction, time flew by as they ate, and Sharp didn't have to count off each minute until it seemed appropriate to leave the table and return to Black. At one point, Sharp almost came to a tight corner when Professor Weasley cut into Fig's story and turned the conversation to Mr McTarvish. Of course, Fig immediately wanted to know what had happened to his protégé, but unfortunately for Sharp, Prof Weasley was not distracted and immediately asked about Sharp's conversation with Black about the incident. Sharp hesitantly prepared a sparse answer and fobbed his colleague off with a few meaningless details.
However, before she could poke any deeper into the wound, Prof Garlick demanded the older witch's attention and Sharp was spared. For now. As Prof Weasley's penetrating gaze suggested.
So Sharp decided to end the evening and get away with a black eye.
The ex-auror emptied his plate and then apologised for the rest of the evening. None of his other colleagues read much into it and merely wished him a pleasant night.
He hurried to get back to Black, and when he arrived in the bedroom, Scrope was removing the half-empty plate from Black's side of the bed. With a humble bow, the house elf departed, leaving both men among themselves.
The ex-auror resumed his previous position next to Black's bed and examined the headmaster urgently. He merely sipped his tea sporadically. He didn't really look any better, but the colour was returning to his face.
"You haven't eaten much. Not hungry?" Black asked as casually as possible.
Black laughed softly, which could almost have been mistaken for a stuttering breath, and bobbed his head gently. "I couldn't get any more down for the life of me. Something, or someone, probably upset my stomach."
This tiny glimmer of humour was able to trigger a great spark of optimism in Sharp. It felt good after everything that had happened today. It brought back normality and grounded them both a little. That was important if they wanted to find their footing again.
"Can I get you anything else? Do you need something?" Sharp wanted to be reassured that Black was well looked after before he left for his own room.
The headmaster glanced around and seemed to be thinking.
"No, I don't need anything else. Besides, you've already given me enough today. Thank you for that."
Satisfied with this answer, Sharp stood up and put his chair back in its rightful place within the room.
"That's what I'm here for now. Don't worry about it."
A glance at the clock told him that it was high time to go. Black needed all the rest he could get. Sharp wasn't going to keep him from getting it. He had already done enough of that today.
"All right, then. I should be going. Sleep, you need your strength back. If there's anything, anything at all, send Scrope to me and I'll hurry to be by your side as fast as I can."
With that, the ex-auror said goodbye and headed for the door. Shortly before he did, however, Black stopped him.
"Wait..." Black demanded, rolling a fold of his duvet between his fingers.
Sharp looked at him and tilted his head slightly.
"Yes? Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Can... Can you please sleep here with me tonight?"
Sharp winced. Did he hear that right? He was probably imagining it. Black couldn't possibly have said that... And yet, Black sat on his bed and did everything he could not to look directly at Sharp. As much as Sharp wanted to stay with him, it couldn't be a good idea. Not today.
Slightly disappointed, he shook his head.
"I don't think that's a wise move. You need rest and I can always come to you if you need me."
Black let out a soft 'tsk' sound and finally looked up at Sharp. His eyes glittered in the light of the lamp.
"I need you now. What good is it for me to be lonely here. I can't bear my thoughts alone and I don't know what the night will bring me if I close my eyes. Please, don't let me fall asleep without you. Stay with me and be the last thing I see when I close my eyes and the first thing I see when I open them again in the morning." Black arched his back and tried to let a little strength flow into him.
Sharp studied Black closely, looking for even the slightest sign that this request was considered unsafe. Finding nothing but determination, he walked over to Black and sat on the free side of the bed.
He began to remove his boots, as well as his coat and jacket. After a moment's hesitation, his waistcoat followed until he was sitting next to Black in just his trousers and shirt. His nose slightly red, he flipped the blanket aside and lay down underneath it. As always, he lay on his back so as not to put too much pressure on his bad leg and he had to admit, the headmaster's bed was heavenly soft. Not so soft that you sank into it, but a lot more comfortable than his own.
At Black's request, he switched off the lamp next to the bed and let his head sink into the numerous pillows. Comfortably ensconced, Sharp concentrated on his breathing. Until it faltered when he felt an unfamiliar weight on his chest. Black had laid his head on it and nestled against Sharp's side. The tips of his hair tickled Sharp's neck, but he made no move to push Black off him.
Instead, he put an arm protectively around the headmaster. Where this initiative from Black came from, Sharp didn't know. He only knew how right their bodies felt next to each other. That was all he needed. Black seemed to feel the same way, because soon his breathing had become smooth and even. He had fallen asleep in Sharp's arms.
Satisfied, Sharp closed his eyes and also began to sink into a dreamless sleep.