my next mistake | sirius & severus
Usually, these underground punk concerts are Sirius’s favorite escape. They’re a break from all the magical nonsense that takes up his everyday life, and, as much as he adores his friends, these concerts are a break from them too. They’re like a breath of fresh air for Sirius; ironic, considering there’s hardly anything fresh about a stuffy basement bar with too many bodies crammed in one space.
Normally Sirius enjoys these events with half a handle of something in his system, but for once, he isn’t drunk. Not sober– as much as he loves these things, he doubts he could do them sober – but not drunk. He smoked outside with the group he came with, and the pleasant hum of weed in his system is enough to keep him from getting jumpy when people bump into him. On his average night, he leaves these things bloodied and bruised from inevitably picking a fight with someone.
He doesn’t know the band that’s up on stage, but he doesn’t have to enjoy them. The music is loud enough that it vibrates the whole room. That, or maybe it’s the constant movement of the crowd. He’s lost the group he came here with somewhere along the way, but it’s a sure-fire bet that they’re over at the bar. While he doesn’t want to leave, he would like to smoke another round and where’s the fun in it if he does it on his own?
He’s shorter than some of the folks here, so he has to go up on his toes a bit to see over the crowd and toward the bar. He doesn’t spot his friends right away, instead, he gets an eye-full of someone far too familiar. Oh, isn’t this just a treat?
Sirius smirks and takes a half step closer, putting a hand on Snape’s shoulder and leaning in enough to be heard over the noise. “I thought you’d be too delicate for this sort of thing! If you’re not careful you’ll get trampled.”
@princehdg
Severus feels the pumping of the bass through the crowds and, in his favorite parts of these concerts, he forgets himself. He is no longer gripping onto his own consciousness with both hands but rather one of the masses, blissfully disconnected from everything that plagues him on a daily basis. It is good, almost too good until he feels a deep heat surround his back. Instinctively he sinks into that heat, relishing the warmth until the voice that fills his ear makes his entire body tense.
It takes everything in him not to whip his head around, effectively ruining the experience of the concert, the lost bliss shirking away from him forever. He peers down at the shorter man. “That’s quite a statement for a man who’s struggling to even see the stage.” His deep voice doesn’t carry as well as he’d like it too so he’s practically yelling, an activity entirely uncommon for Severus.
But maybe it’s the.. how many was it? Five drinks? He’d lost count when the colors began to swirl together and the world took on a most postive outlook. Sirius’s hand no long felt like a threat– it felt like a tentative inquiry, a question that he’d never been asked before likwe this, and it ade his mouth dry.
He raised an eyebrow at Sirius, watching the blue and green lights from the stage wash over his features “What do you want, Black?” His voice lacked its usual venom.
