The night air was bitterly cold, biting at Severus Snape's face as he strode across the grounds, his robes billowing like storm clouds behind him. He didn't care about the chill; his blood ran hotter than fire. The news had spread quickly: Sirius Black had been sighted near the Forbidden Forest.
He could feel it—the tightening coil of tension that came whenever past and present collided. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for.
And yet, a strange unease gnawed at him.
This time, things were different. Pettigrew had been caught early, locked away in Azkaban. That should have ended it. So why was Sirius still here?
---
The Shack in the Shadows
Snape reached the edge of the forest, his boots crunching against frost. The Shrieking Shack loomed ahead, its windows dark and broken, like an old wound in the earth.
He drew his wand, fingers steady despite the storm inside him.
A faint creak came from within.
Snape didn't hesitate. He pushed through the splintered doorway, his wand casting sharp light through the gloom.
Inside, Sirius Black was waiting.
---
Face-to-Face
Sirius looked older than Snape remembered—gaunt, his hair matted, his clothes torn and filthy. But his eyes… his eyes were the same. Wild. Sharp. Burning with that reckless fire Snape had hated since they were boys.
"Severus," Sirius drawled, leaning lazily against a rotting beam as though this were a social call. "You look well. Better than last time we met."
Snape's voice cut through the room like a blade. "Black."
"Still full of venom, I see." Sirius smirked. "I suppose I should thank you for having Wormtail arrested. Saved me the trouble."
Snape's grip on his wand tightened dangerously. "If you think that absolves you, you're deluded."
Sirius laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. "Absolve me? For what, Severus? For twelve years rotting in Azkaban without a trial?"
"You tried to kill me!" Snape snarled, the old fury roaring back. His voice echoed off the decaying walls. "Don't you dare stand there and pretend you're the victim."
Sirius stepped forward, his grin fading. "And you still can't see past your own grudge, can you? Pettigrew framed me, Severus. He framed me, and you know it."
Snape's wand crackled faintly with restrained magic. His heart hammered in his chest—not from fear, but from rage. Rage at Sirius. Rage at himself. Rage at how the past refused to die, even in this second chance.
---
The Breaking Point
"You expect me to believe you?" Snape hissed. "You, who would have gladly fed me to Lupin on a full moon?"
Sirius's jaw clenched. "That was a lifetime ago."
"Not for me!" Snape's voice cracked, his composure fraying. He took a step closer, wand aimed squarely at Sirius's chest. "Every mistake, every betrayal, every choice—I still remember all of it."
For a moment, neither man moved. The silence was deafening.
Then Sirius spoke, quieter this time. "And Lily? Do you remember her, too?"
Snape froze.
"Because I do," Sirius continued. "She wouldn't want this, Severus. Not from either of us."
The words struck deep. Too deep. Snape's hand trembled, and for one dangerous second, he almost forgot to breathe.
---
The Interruption
A sudden noise shattered the tension.
"Professor Snape?"
Harry.
Both men turned sharply. Harry stood in the doorway, his wand raised hesitantly, his face pale in the moonlight. Behind him, Hermione and Ron hovered nervously.
"What are you doing here?" Snape snapped, his anger redirected instantly.
Harry didn't flinch. "I followed you. I knew you were coming after him."
"Typical," Snape muttered darkly, though a strange flicker of relief passed through him. The boy had terrible timing—but perhaps it was just enough to keep this from ending in blood.
Sirius sighed, lowering his wand. "Still playing the watchdog, I see."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer, but he didn't reply. Instead, he glanced at Harry, whose gaze shifted between the two men with confusion and determination.
This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
---
Retreat
"Go back to the castle," Snape ordered Harry, his voice sharp but steady. "Now."
Harry hesitated. "But—"
"Now, Potter!"
Harry glared but obeyed, retreating with Hermione and Ron. Only when their footsteps faded did Snape turn back to Sirius.
"This isn't over," Snape said coldly.
Sirius smirked faintly. "It never was."
And then, with a sudden burst of movement, Sirius shifted—his form collapsing into the sleek black dog. Before Snape could react, he bounded out of the shack and into the night.
Snape didn't follow. Not yet.
---
The Quiet After
He stood there alone, the echoes of the past swirling like ghosts around him. His wand lowered, his breath slowing, but the tremor in his hands remained.
Second chances were supposed to mean freedom.
Instead, they only brought him closer to the ghosts he'd never buried.