Books » Harry Potter » Revenge is Sweet
Summary: A teenage Snape plots his revenge on James Potter for making his life hell. Little does he know, James has plans of his own that will send both of their lives spiralling out of control.
Warnings: Slash- male/male, mild swearing. Rating may increase with future chapters.
Severus emerged slowly from the pit of the dungeons. Head bowed, he elbowed his way through the sleepy crowd with little consideration.
The tempting smell of well prepared food had wafted through his senses only briefly, before Severus was forced to retreat. His eyes narrowed sharply as the oak front doors to the castle flung open.
Four careless figures jostled their way inside, eyeing the promise of a late dinner with interest.
Severus' face darkened into a sneer as he automatically shrunk back into the shadows. Wedged awkwardly between a suit of armour and a large, faceless statue, his rigid figure was barely distinguishable against the harsh curves of the stone wall behind him.
An broad iron shoulder partially obscured Severus' vision as he peered at the group, his chest constricting with a familiar pain. He clenched his wand in his palm.
To Severus' surprise, Sirius, Remus and Peter bid a temporary farewell the fourth and leading member of the group, leaving the messy haired Gryffindor to swagger onwards alone.
The armour creaked loudly as Severus's grip on its metallic arm intensified.
James made a beeline directly towards his hiding place. Unaware of his favourite victim's presence, as of yet, he begun to whistle a tune, hands thrust deep into his pockets. Robeless, he'd left his shirt hanging out untidily from his close-fitting trousers, with his house tie hung loose about his neck.
Severus scowl deepened at the content expression that adorned the handsome lines of James' face. It was physically sickening to comprehend the degree to which James could appear so purely, mindlessly happy, while simultaneously making his life so unbearable.
To his sheer gratification, James did not once glance in his direction.
Just as Severus deemed it safe to dart out from his hiding place and sweep back down towards the dungeons, a female voice called out.
James grinned slowly, doubling back a dozen steps to just a few feet from where Severus stood, rooted to the spot. He offered a lazy smile to the small, pretty sixth year Hufflepuff hurrying towards him.
Trapped, Severus watched the scene unfold before him, both horrified and in awe.
James pushed the girl up against the portrait, directly opposite from where he stood, and was, as far as Severus could make out from the tangle of limbs and occassional slurping, kissing her senseless.
He snorted quietly and gave a small, bitter shake of his head. Being a year older, the girl would have turned her nose up at anyone in a lower year. But no, this was James bloody Potter. How could she possibly resist? It did not matter that he was two years younger and half a head shorter. It was every students' fantasy to get into his pants at least once. And he made no challenge of it.
Severus longed to disappear as they continued their public display of indecency. He swallowed the sudden sickness that had arisen in his throat.
Everyone in the school was used to the quidditch stars' confidence with the opposite sex, and complete shamelessness. He'd a different girl on his arm every week.
But there was always something about the intimacy in which James devoted to his girls that enthralled Severus, having never witnessed such affection at a time before Hogwarts.
The occupants of the frame the couple were pressed against cried out in outrage, while Severus groaned both from irritation and humiliation. He did not need the hand that patted irritably against the front of his jeans to recognise that he'd very quickly grown aroused.
This entirely separate form of discomfort was also nothing new to Severus. It was a problem that had burdened him for the entire year, and also something he'd yet to find a cure for.
He shifted slightly and swore under his breath, desperately willing away the tightening in his pants. He snapped his intense gaze away from the lovers, eyes roaming to the floor, to the ceiling and back to the floor.
But his treacherous mind created the images that he denied his eyes, and his problem remained.
Who was he to get off on watching Potter devour some girl? Porn magazines, explicit muggle movies, masturbating under the covers while the other boys in his dorm got changed... Nothing could get him as desperate for release, while equally as riled up, than watching James Potter turn on his sleazy seduction act.
Severus knew it was wrong, on so many levels, but as much as he hated himself for it, he was useless to fight against his body's irrational response to the school's most popular student. It seemed he was no more immune to Janes Potters' striking appeal than the entire female population. Severus would convince himself otherwise, refusing to categorize himself with a load of giggling, hormonal airheads that, in his opinion, made up the majority of the opposite sex.
It was that devilish smirk, that ridiculous unkempt hair, that quidditch toned body with perfect complexion. It was the fact the boy was clever. Oh so clever. He was hilarious, witty, popular, charming, happy. He was powerful, and Severus was nothing if not drawn to such talent. He was everything the lonely Slytherin had ever wanted to be, everything he desired, yet opposed the idea of finding appealing in equal measures.
James was also a complete arsehole and Severus hated him dearly.
Severus fought the urge to stroke himself through the material of his trousers, as the need for friction intensified along with his own mortification. He could hardly ignore what his body wanted when it responded so enthusiastically to James' very presence. It just made Severus loathe himself, adding to the illusion that had been concocting itself for the entire of his life; he was a weirdo, a loser and a freak.
Eyes glued to the pair, Severus struggled, frustrated and agitated.
Bracing one arm against the hip of the statue standing proudly before him, he tugged down his trousers until they slipped down his thin waist to a crumpled heap on the floor.
Glancing down at the distortion of his flimsy boxers with a hateful expression, Severus fumbled aside the material to grip himself with a shaking hand. Eyes wide, mouth contorted into a pained grimace as his legs begun to tremble with each wave of reluctant pleasure.
He jerked his wrist erratically.
''I have to go,'' the girl murmured, breath catching.
Severus watched James' dark head, moving languidly along her slender neck with practiced patience.
''James, I'm being serious,'' she laughed. ''It's late. My friends will wonder where I am...''
Severus closed his eyes and muffled his whimpers against a clenched fist, trying to ignore the irritating female voice. Her role in his arousal played only a minor part.
''Mmm-Hmm...'' James replied absently.
Despite his loud inner protesting, explicit images of himself and James, in the exact same position that the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were in now, flooded Severus' mind and he was lost further.
The reality of his thoughts was enough to wilter his erection into nothingness, but as with whenever he was unfortunate enough to find himself in such a compromising position, he shut off that more rational side of his brain and simply went with the bodies urges.
It wasn't often that he was aroused. It normally took far too long to work himself up to a decent orgasm, as his long-fingered hands, as skilful as they were with a potions rod, proved too little stimulation on their own in this particular forte. But if this is what it took to get himself a little satisfaction, he'd accept it. For now. Severus was, after all, as hormonal as any other teenager.
Severus opened an eye to watch her half-heartedly remove her arms from around James' neck and push at his chest.
''Stop. We can't do this here.'' She cast her eyes around the immediate area surrounding them and giggled, hiding her face in James' shoulder as a passing group of third years stopped to stare curiously at them.
James followed her gaze and smirked arrogantly, before giving his flushed faced partner a quick, teasing kiss and stepping back.
''I suppose you're right,'' he drawled, before sighing dramatically in regret. With a side-ways glance at their audience, he leaned back in closely for a moment, brushing aside a strand of the girl's hair so that he could whisper in her ear.
Severus had to strain to hear what he said, but immediately wished he hadn't. James' promise to follow up on their encounter that night in the privacy of the prefects bathroom was not something he, or his body, needed to hear.
James bowed his partner gracefully on her way, throwing a wink in the direction of her potential competitors.
''It's Jenkins,'' the girl corrected him, a brief expression of hurt crossing her features as she smoothed out her robe.
''Right,'' James agreed absently, unabashed, ''Of course it is.''
Severus snorted loudly, he couldn't help it.
''Shit,'' he muttered under his breath, pulling his hand sharply from inside his pants and cursing again, more loudly, as he snagged himself on his zip. He closed his eyes tightly and flattened himself against the wall as he braced himself for the inevitable.
Severus breathed deeply. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that he was sure they could hear it.
God forbid if James found him like this... He should have left when he had the chance.
Turning rapidly, he came into contact with a chest much more defined than his own, causing him to stumble slightly and clutch at the statue for support.
Two hands grabbed him roughly by the collar, pulling him backwards and throwing him hard against the opposite wall. Severus winced as James appeared directly before him, hazel eyes glinting maliciously.
Ironically, they'd ended in exactly the same place James and the girl had been moments before. This did nothing to ease Severus's little problem. He refused to admit disappointment as James' frown, instead of turning passionate, morphed into a snarl, It was an expression far from that of wanting to initiate a kiss.
''Snivelly?'' James spat, his voice full of anger and distaste. ''How long have you been standing there? Have a nice little show did you, you sick bastard?''
''I wasn't... I didn't...'' Severus stammered. His face burned scarlet as he inwardly cursed himself for his own stupidity.
James raised a dark eyebrow, an evil look on his face. All of his earlier sense of playfulness was lost.
''No?'' he questioned suspiciously.
His vice-like grip on Severus' wrists was hard enough to leave bruises as he pushed himself closer, so that their bodies were pressed together.
Severus' eyes widened as he felt, just as James' did, the evidence of his inappropriate staring trapped between them.
''You...'' James looked almost disbelieving, as he raked his eyes unappreciatively over the harsh lines of Severus' face.
Severus' wrists were brought sharply over his head and he winced in pain. What could he possibly say to explain himself? Except that he had no more desire to bear this burden than James had to witness it.
''Those looks you give me... That... intense look, all the time. In class, in the corridors... whenever I see you... There's more than just hate. I knew it. You fucking fancy me.''
Severus' chest grew unbearably tight and he swayed on his feet, fighting against his own impeding horror. He'd never thought that death would scare him. He'd almost welcomed it on many occasions but this, right now, felt more like dying that anything had previously and it had never been less welcome.
He tugged at his constraints with sharp, panicky jerks, attempting to push past his captor, but James held him still.
''You really are messed up, aren't you?'' An edge of curiosity disrupted James's frown, and he pushed himself more closely into Severus' personal space.
With a moments hesitation, he started grinding his hips against those presented to him.
Severus' eyes widened as they met the clear challenge in James' hazel ones, and his breath hitched.
James' own sweet breath was all over his face, and he couldn't think straight. He couldn't find the strength to continue his attempt to push him away, no matter how much he desperately needed to, in order to save what little dignity he had left.
A strangled whimper clawed its way up Severus' throat. Both knew that there was more than a mere expression of pain in that small, throaty sound. To his further mortification, Severus found that, even though this was hell itself, twisted with his most intimate sexual fantasies, he was relieved. James know knew how he felt, for better or for worse. He would no longer need to hide his infatuation.
Severus moaned loudly, involuntarily, as the assault continued, the intense sensations in his groin causing him to arch up in unmistakable excitement.
Humiliation could not get more unbearable than this, which Severus knew was exactly the point of James' actions.
Severus clenched his mouth closed, suppressing a moan, his face, if possible, flushing more deeply as his body could not help but react to such foreign stimulation. This was beyond torture. This was beyond any humiliation he'd ever suffered. Ever. And even now, in his own sick habit of self-torturing, he could not wish completely that James would stop.
Drawing up the last scraps of his courage, he lifted his face to meet the hazel eyes just inches from his own, raw emotion strewn freely across his face.
Slightly darker than their usual soft brown, James' eyes were piercing into his, his face flushed.
As Severus began to thrust back against the pressure, his body acting of its own accord, James dropped his wrists and roughly shoved him away. The extreme look of revulsion on his face made Severus cringe.
''Listen, you greasy haired creep,'' James breathed finally, hatred etched into every line of his thin face. ''If I ever catch you perving on me ever again, I'll personally see to it that every person in Hogwarts knows about your little twisted habits.''
Severus nodded weakly, mortified beyond belief.
James held him firmly for a moment longer, Severus' robes twisted in his fist. There was no interest, or even much curiosity, in the way that he stared at the slightly smaller boy, just contempt and such an intense disgust that Severus arousal was dying as quickly as it had begun.
''Go on then, clear off,'' James snapped impatiently.
Severus didn't need telling twice. He ran and he ran until his legs could no longer stand it. Collapsing in the nearest bathroom, he fought hard to get his breath back. He clamped his hands over the sink and gasped for air. He was going to be sick.
Severus slowly looked up at his pale, uncomplimentary sculptured face reflected in the cracked mirror as his nausea passed in a haze of deep regret, and cursed the day he'd ever met James Potter.
Why couldn't his body let him hate him in peace? Why did it torture him so? Hadn't he been through enough?
He slammed his hands down, making the whole sink shake, a fresh crack added to marble tiles holding the fragile framing together.
It wasn't like he'd ever have Potter as his own to release him from this irrational sexual frustration. Not that he'd ever seriously contemplated the thought.. That was dangerous ground indeed. The idea of willingly touching James intimately repulsed him, yet at the same time the mere thought... the memory of the breath on his face, the firm hands where they burned holes in his skin through his clothes and made his head spin... It twisted his stomach into knots and made his heart pound in a way that was not all unpleasant.
Severus sighed deeply and wearily, almost undone by it all. How could he ever compete against this? He couldn't get more opposite to the gorgeous Gryffindor...
Severus hissed sharply against his own thoughts, a self-disgust so strong radiating through him that he spun himself from the mirror and begun pacing, unable to stand the sight of his own sallow face.
He clamped his hands over his face, trying in vain to dispel his foul thoughts. What kind of person was he to get some sick, perverted pleasure out of someone who caused him such intense pain and misery? He had to do something. Anything. He wanted... No, he needed revenge. Revenge on James Potter for making his life complete and utter, undeniable hell.
His malicious Slytherin mind had come up with many plans, over the years, of how to get back at James. Each idea had been magnificantly revolutionary, yet equally as impossible as the next. But now it had to be different. Severus couldn't take this any longer. There had to be a solution.
Severus swept from one end of the bathroom to the other, cursing wildly and erratically. He didn't know how long he confined himself to that small space and deliberated, but by the time darkness had fallen upon the castle, blackening the enchanted windows and obscuring the landscape outside, he had the perfect plan formed.
Eyes wide, almost delirious, he didn't care right now that it was the craziest idea he'd had to date. If it worked, it would ruin James Potter to such an extent that Severus would finally claim vengeance.
His lips tilted into an evil smirk. Yes, if this worked it would be the end of Potter's reign as king of Hogwarts; no friends, no admirers and no hope of finally ever winning round Lily Evans. He would at last know exactly how it felt to be him.
What was it Potter had said? 'The whole school would know of his twisted fantasies...'
Well, what could be worse than being caught willingly snogging the most slimy, detestable boy in school? It couldn't be impossible to win his affections... James would kiss him and the whole school would see, and subsequently he would lose everything.
But first Severus must make him love him, for love was the only thing that would make James Potter be seen with him anywhere even partially public.
Severus pulled at his tangled greasy hair. Maybe not now, but he would become an eligable bachellor. He would make it work and, if he were exceptionally lucky, relieve some of his sexual frustration at the same time. What did he have left to lose?
Public humiliation. It was the one thing that would hurt James Potter most. Severus would seduce James, heart and body, if it was the last thing he did.