The Death Debt

Chapter 6

It was freezing when Sirius awoke. He shivered and attempted to bury himself deeper in Snape's blankets, wrapping them around his body like a cocoon. He breathed in a sigh; he could smell the faint hint of herbs and green, growing things imbedded in the threads. It was oddly smoothing, and it made him feel sleepy and stupid, like a cup of chamomile tea. That is until a new smell reached his nose.

Bacon.

Sirius oozed out of bed as if he was made of liquid, still wrapped up in Snape's blankets with only his nose peeking out. The smell of bacon led him down the stairs and into the kitchen. The kitchen sat in the back of the house. There was a single window facing the garden above the sink. On the opposite wall the remains of a large hearth could be seen, but instead of a roaring fire and a pot of lentils boiling above it there stood a cast iron stove dwarfed within the large alcove.

Snape stood in front of the stove, black hair hanging in front of his face, and with spatula in hand.

Sirius stood close to Snape, staring at him with big, grey eyes until the Slytherin snarled at him, "You're worse than a stray dog. Here," he shoved a piece of bacon at him. "Now sit at the table and eat. And stop staring at me!"

Sirius snickered as he made off with his prize. He blew on his burnt fingertips and shoved the bacon into his mouth, regretting it instantly when the still sizzling strip of meat became stuck to the roof of his mouth. That's going to blister, he thought as he finally swallowed.

"So..." Sirius began as he licked the grease from his fingers. "You like to do the cooking?"

"I wouldn't say I like it, but I'm better at it than Da."

"What about your Mum?"

"... She tires easily."

"Is she sick?"

"Yes, Black, she's sick."

The conversation hit a lull and as Sirius watched Snape crack an egg into a bowl it occurred to him that this was perhaps the first civil conversation the two of them have ever had.

Snape poured the scrambled eggs into the same pan he had used to fry the bacon. With an irritated huff, he jerkily brushed his hair away from his face. Sirius jerked upright in his seat, pushing away the blankets as he stood up, when he saw a large bruise peeking out from beneath the oily strands.

"What's that on your face?" Sirius demanded.

"My nose, remember?" Snape sneered. "You comment on it often enough, I'd think it was hard to forget."

"Shut it, I'm talking about that bruise."

He tried to get a better look but Snape dodged his questing fingers.

"I fell when trying to make it up the stairs last night, now leave it alone." Snape's shoulders were up near his ears and there was a hot pan held between them, like a shield.

Sirius slunk back towards the table, suspiciously eyeing the other boy. The bruises around his neck had almost completely faded, but even when they had still been coloured purple and black Snape had made no attempt to hide them. He had seemed almost proud of them, as if he had won some great battle. But here, now, he was taking pains to keep his head bowed beneath his hair. Sirius could just make out the outline of the bruise between the greasy locks. It circled his right cheek, and went all the way up his temple.

Loud, thunderous steps echoed against the stairs as a man's large, heavy body made its way down and into the kitchen. Mr Snape was already dressed in his denim work clothes and a thick coat. There was a knit hat clutched in one hand and he scrubbed the grey stubble on his face with the other. He looked blearily at Sirius.