Nothing Breaks Like A Heart - Severus Snape x OC

Chapter 5 - Heartbreaks can drive you into madness!

Sirius's flat, Soho, Muggle London, December 1978

Sirius had woken up with a splitting headache thanks to an earth-shattering hangover after a night of heavy drinking and partying with his Auror training mates. He knew that alcohol wasn't an answer to his personal issues, but he wanted to forget the heartbreak, haunting childhood memories and the feeling of not knowing who he was. He was a fucked-up, lost little boy in the body of a nineteen-year-old handsome bloke who hated his deranged, Dark Arts obsessed she-devil of a mum and was unrequited in love with his best mate, James Potter. It hurt like hell to think about James's impending marriage to the gorgeous, smart and lovely, Lily Evans, for he knew that their marriage wouldn't make them happy and end in a disaster. Sirius had discovered that he was attracted to men as well as women in his fourth year at Hogwarts. He had had his fair share of flings with boys and girls at Hogwarts, although he had kept his sexual affairs with males hushed up and hidden.

Same-sex relationships weren't accepted in the Wizarding world, because they didn't include biological children. In a world, where most wizards and witches were obsessed with carrying on their bloodlines and popping out magically powerful children, wizards and witches who had sex with the same sex and eliminated the possibilities of having biological children, were treated like criminal outsiders. Hence, Sirius had shagged his male conquests in hidden alcoves or broom closets at Hogwarts with Security Spells in place that would warn them of approaching teachers or students. While he had made out with his female flings on booze-filled parties in the Gryffindor Common Room, kissed them passionately in the Great Hall or danced closely with them at the Yule Ball, his affairs with male students were his dirty secret. Hell, he wasn't ashamed of his sexuality and talked with his Marauders' mates openly about it, but he could only live out his attraction to males openly in Muggle gay bars where nobody knew him. Besides that, he nowadays only used quick, meaningless sex with women and men to forget about his lost love.

If he was totally honest with himself, Sirius realized that he had a sex problem, for he used sex to feel loved and experience a high. The unloved, insecure little boy in him was addicted to sensing some physical warmth, desire-filled touches, and frenzied kisses. Merlin, he knew that he would never have his happily ever after because the love of his life was marrying a woman. Thence, he satisfied his sexual needs and feelings of loneliness, rejection and hurt with empty, frenzied sex. He knew that he couldn't love another human being as much as James Potter. Sirius loved him with a fiery passion, gentle compassion and touching selflessness. James was his one true love, his soulmate and the one person on earth who could make him laugh, feel safe and blissfully happy. He was his best mate and kindred spirit. Waking up in his arms and making love to him, felt like being home. And the little, abused and neglected boy in Sirius had always longed to feel loved and at home.

His wicked dark witch of a mum had tortured him with dark curses, starvation or imprisonment in the creepy, dark basement of 12 Grimmauld Place whenever he disobeyed her in private, embarrassed her in public or angered her with his rebellious, reckless behavior. And you only needed to refuse to maim your house-elves with dark curses, talk to your Pure-blooded playmates too loudly at the table or chase your little brother through Grimmauld Place with squirt guns to earn yourself a dark hex. When Sirius reflected on the hours spend withering on the floor in pain, suppressing his hungry feeling or crying in the dark basement, a hot hatred and nasty bile acid rushed through his body. He asked himself time and time again how a parent could abuse their own flesh and blood like this. Naturally, Sirius had known since his early childhood that Walburga Black wasn't a good-hearted, warm mum. She had never read bedtime stories out to him and his brother, nursed their scratched knees, played games with them or hugged them tightly, but his four-year-old self could have never imagined that she was capable of abusing her children until they begged her to stop with the promise of being the perfect Pure-blooded sons or blacked out.