@wixenprince liked this for a starter (Sirius and Severus)
This was certainly not how Sirius had envisioned spending his Saturday night: pushed into the dusty store room by Filch and watching the door lock behind him, sealing him with Severus in what might as well have been a coffin for how small it was, or how little air there seemed left inside, or how much he felt like knocking his head against the wall until he couldn’t feel it anymore. Until he really was dead. The worst part was, he’d been dragged out of the hall--literally--without his things, so he didn’t have his bag with him and therefore didn’t have the mirror he usually used to speak with James when they were put in separate detentions, and he’d never wanted--needed--to speak to James more. For once, the fight he’d been in hadn’t concerned his best friend--James hadn’t even been on the same floor--so maybe that was why he felt as if he was unraveling, why Sirius was still seething, though it was not the fists of the recently joined Death Eater he’d brawled with that flickered before his eyes. It had all been so quick--a nasty remark, a memory he hadn’t wanted to recall triggered back, his parents’ faces swimming before his eyes--and he’d lost control.
Growling at the door like the dog he became once a month, Sirius tugged his hands out of his pockets, flecks of blood splattering his robes and dripping to the floor. He punched the wall once before sliding down it and sitting at the base, still breathing hard. He’d hidden the mess on the way--which had kept him from being able to fight Filch off--for he hadn’t wanted any injury to be spotted, hadn’t wanted to be sent to the hospital wing, even if it would have put off the detention a bit longer. Sirius wanted the physical pain as a distraction--or rather, he didn’t want to be helped. Though, now that he saw what was in store for him--two hours alone with Snivelus--he wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice. He closed his eyes, fighting back the voice in his head--she isn’t here, he thought but his mother's voice was louder, she isn’t real, I never have to see her again--and prayed Severus didn’t see the way his hands were shaking, didn’t see him weak.
“Whatever you’re thinking of saying, Snivelus,” he snapped. “Save your breath or I’ll shut your mouth for you.” The words came on instinct, yet the moment they’d left him, the familiar monster of shame and fear came rising up in his gut, making him even more nauseous than he’d been a minute ago. After the “prank,” after he’d almost lost Remus for good, Sirius had vowed to do better, to turn over a new leaf, and for the most part, he’d kept his word. His fifth year at Hogwarts had, by far, been the worst of his life, and he’d made wrong choice after wrong choice, spiraled into a person he never wanted to be--a path he very nearly wouldn’t have come back from. He had almost become his mother, rather than simply haunted by her.
But ever since he’d left his parents home over the summer, things had been better: Sirius’ head had been clearer. He’d stopped jinxing people in the halls--unless they really deserved it, like the newly crowned death eaters popping up more and more by the day--and he had done everything in his power to avoid Severus. If he didn’t have to see him, he didn’t have to feel guilty or spiteful for anything in between. Now, however, it seemed his luck had run out.
