For the next week Potter left Severus blissfully alone. So did Lucius, for the matter. After the fuck in the bushes halfway between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts he seemed sated enough that he didn't feel like dragging Sev into dirty closets...for now. The sex that time had been worse than usual - brutal, rough and completely emotionless. Sev felt like a piece of meat after, like a sex toy that had only one purpose. He threw up when Lucius left and wondered if this was rape. He had consented didn't he? At least the first few times...it doesn't matter, Severus remembered thinking as he trekked back to Hogwarts in the biting November wind, it's not like I can tell anyone. It's not like anyone would care.

He could imagine Potter and his friends jeering if they ever found out. They'd probably say that Severus deserved it. And maybe he did. Maybe this was his punishment for all the bad things he did in life. Severus had scrubbed himself clean that night when he got back to the castle, and every night after that, but the Lucius' disgusting fingers remained on him in the form of ugly purple bruises on his hips.

Which was why he was here tonight - the Prefect's Bathroom, in the late hours of the night. Severus wasn't allowed into this beautiful bathroom with a pool instead of a normal bathtub. He wasn't a Prefect. And yet somehow the scented, bubbly, multi-coloured water he sat in right now soothed his aches better than the hurried showers in his dorm bathroom, where he was afraid somebody would barge in and embarrass him in front of all the other Slytherin's. Here Severus had peace and quiet.

He brushed his pale fingers over the bubbles collected on top of the deliciously hot water and as he did, the bubbles broke away and took to air, glimmering as they sailed to the ceiling, only to bounce off and, unbroken, drift back down. Severus smiled. This was nice. He let out a little pleased sigh and sunk deeper into the water, so that it lapped gently over his chin. He closed his eyes and allowed himself, if only for a small moment, to forget all about the troubles in his life. He didn't think about Lily, or Potter, or Lucius, or the fact that everyone hated him, or the fact that he was again going to stay all alone at Hogwarts for Christmas, or the One Who Shall Not Be Named, and he just relaxed.

Unfortunately that relaxation didn't last long because suddenly it was interrupted with the sound of the door creaking open. Severus' eyes snapped open and fearfully he looked at whoever was about to get him into trouble. It was James Potter. Of course it was. That prick was everywhere. Sev held his breath as the Gryffindor walked in, humming something under his breath. He didn't seem to notice the Slytherin as he hung up his robe and put down his towel, but then he turned and his eyes widened when his eyes landed on Severus, who was unsuccessfully attempting to hide in the bubbles.

"You're not a Prefect," Potter said, amusement blossoming on his face as he cocked his head to the side. Sev glared at him heatedly,

"Get out, I was here first," he growled. Suddenly self conscious he crossed his arms over his chest even though Potter couldn't see it anyway under the water. The Slytherin hoped his enemy would think the blush on his cheeks was from the heat of the bathroom.

"That's not how it works, snakey-boy," Potter said, pleased with himself, "you're not even allowed in here."

"Why are you here so late anyway?" Sev snapped, because he was fully aware that Potter was right. The Gryffindor shrugged and pulled his jumper over his head, leaving him in a black t-shirt. He chucked the jumper onto a bench lining the walls of the bathroom, and carefully laid his slightly fogged up glasses on top of his clothes. He looked different without them, older somehow.

"I prefer it at this time," he said calmly as he casually pulled his t-shirt over his head, "it's quieter and usually nobody's here."

Severus didn't hear that last part because he was too busy staring at Potter's naked, revealed torso. His shoulders were broad, but that was visible even when he wore clothes. What wasn't visible were his perfect pecks and rock-hard abs. Sev's eyes slid over the other boy's body, his tanned skin, the dark trail of hair leading down to his...Sev felt all of his blood rush to his face and he turned away quickly, heart pounding. Potter hadn't noticed him staring and continued to blabber as he undressed, but Severus kept his eyes firmly on the water, trying to get his escalated heartbeat to calm down.

He only looked up when he saw the water shift.

"Ah," Potter let out a delighted sigh. He sunk onto the little underwater bench and the water lapped up only to his ribcage where it almost completely covered Severus' shoulders. The Gryffindor leaned his head back, a pleased smile on his face. He looked like some devilish God. Merlin, I hate him, Sev thought bitterly, "This is nice."

"No it's not," Sev replied immediately. Potter rolled his eyes,

"Merlin, how long are you going to keep this act up? You don't hate me that much, do you?"

"You'd be surprised," Sev grumbled. Potter smiled.

"Look. You don't have to be my best friend. Can't we just be civil to each other?"

"Since when do you want that?" Severus asked, eyes narrowed. He desperately wanted to get out of the water, and away from Potter, who was just sitting in the bath, looking so goddamn gorgeous.

Potter shrugged, "I've wanted it for a while now. After this year we have one more left in Hogwarts, and then we're off into the big world. I don't particularly want to continue hating you."

Severus exhaled, but he had to admit that Potter had a point. Juggling being a Deatheater and hating the Gryffindor sounded exhausting, "Fine. Civil. I don't hate you."

"I don't hate you either, Snape," the Gryffindor said with a broad smile. It sounded weird coming out of his mouth when he was looking at Sev like that, his eyes all sparkly, now full of warmth and friendliness when for years they had been cold and cruel. It made the Slytherin shiver. He was terrified by his sudden desire to climb into Potter's arms. No. He had to dislike the boy, otherwise he would be like every other girl and gay guy in the school, falling for Potter's rugged good charm. He couldn't deal with the humiliation of that. His life had already been ruined by competing with Potter, he didn't need to compete for him. Not that he'd ever stand a chance.

"Yeah. Brilliant," the boy said distractedly. Potter frowned,

"Speaking off. What was that thing with Malfoy and you last week?"

^°^°^°^°^°^°^°^

The question hit home, James saw that. Snape tensed and the blood drained from his face and for a second he looked like someone had slapped him. And then anger returned to his dark eyes and he glared at the Gryffindor with so much hate that it almost made James flinch.

"None of your business, Potter," the Slytherin spat. He seemed agitated, anxious, something in his demeanour changed, and it made James...worried.

"It was just a question, relax."

There were all these new emotions that James was feeling in regards to Snape, and in regards to Lily too. He found that now when he saw Snape in the corridors he didn't recoil and automatically want to punch him in the face. Instead he wanted to go up and tease the boy good-heartedly, because he liked the Slytherin's reactions to that - he got all dark eyes and blushy and annoyed and it was kind of funny and kind of...cute. James still couldn't come to terms with the new adjectives surrounding Snape's persona; cute, adorable, endearing. Those words scared him and he tried his best to remind himself that Snape was an ugly, greasy, annoying git. Moments like these didn't help though - in the bathtub, Snape was flushed from the heat, only the tops of his slim, pale shoulders peeking up above the water. His hair was wet, falling into his dark, angry eyes. James couldn't stop looking at him, and that scared him. Did Snape always look like this, and the Gryffindor just hadn't noticed? He had no idea.

His newfound obsession with Snape made him almost forget about Lily. He didn't think about the New Year's Ball or the promises he made to her. His wish to just befriend Snape and then leave him alone was quickly dispersing - James didn't want to leave Snape alone.

"You should go," the Slytherin said, all growly and angry. James raised an eyebrow.

"I just got here, and I have more of a right to be here than you."

"Of course," Snape said sarcastically, "You have more of a right to everything because you're a rich prick, isn't it?"

"No, that's not what I-" James started, and then paused. He didn't have to explain himself to Snape. Sometimes he forgot that the other boy could push his buttons too, "If you don't want to be here then you leave."

James saw uncertainty flicker in Snape's dark eyes. It might've been the Gryffindor's imagination but he swore that the blush on the other boy's cheeks deepened. The Slytherin paused for a few seconds, clearly contemplating what he should do, and eventually he drew his mouth into a tight line and with a quick, almost violent movement, he stood up. James had never seen him completely naked and his first thought was Merlin, he's skinny. Then, as his eyes slid over the boy's

protruding collarbones and surprisingly nice curve of his arse, he thought, Christ, he's kind of pretty. The last thought that flew through the boy's head as Snape angrily made his way over to the bench where his things were, was Why are there bruises on his hips?

"What happened?" the Gryffindor blurted, his worry getting the best of him. Snape glared at him and hurriedly wrapped a towel around his waist, concealing the purple bruises on his hips. They had been in the shape of fingers, "Who did that?"

"Fuck off," Snape hissed, shoving on his undergarments while simultaneously trying to hold onto the towel. But James wasn't having it. He got up from the warm water and, not caring that he was completely naked, approached Snape.

"Someone grabbed you there-," he started, voice laced with worry.

"I said fuck off," Snape shoved at James' slippery chest with one hand as he tried to get his shirt on. James, angry and wanting answers, shoved the Slytherin up against the wall, harder than he intended. Snape's head smacked against the tiles and he winced before glaring at James heatedly, his shirt falling from his hand, "What the hell is wrong with you Potter?!"

James slammed both his hands on the wall on either side of Snape's head and the boy flinched. The Gryffindor was pissed now. Not at Snape though, but at whoever hurt him, though in that moment he didn't realise that. He used the advantage of being much bigger than the Slytherin to cage him in.

"Who gave you those bruises?" James growled, hoping to intimidate Snape. No such luck. The Slytherin crossed his arms over his still-naked, pale chest and looked up at James coolly,

"Maybe it was you, you fucking asshole."

James' stomach twisted. He hadn't actually hurt Snape in a while...or had he? He could get pretty rough with people and Snape was so small that maybe... "It wasn't me," James said firmly, and to prove it he hurriedly tugged down Snape's underwear, just enough to reveal his bruised hips.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Snape demanded, his voice a pitch higher than normal, his face bright red. James ignored him and grabbed his hips, to prove that the marks weren't from his fingers. But they were the wrong way round. Snape grabbed his wrists and tried to get the Gryffindor off him unsuccessfully.

"It wasn't me," James repeated, and then roughly turned Snape around. He heard the boy inhale sharply as the Gryffindor pushed his face against the wall. Then James placed his hands on the bruises on the boy's hips from the back, and smiled triumphantly, "My hands are too big!" he declared.

Snape was silent, and tense, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. He had his face pressed into the wall, and James only then realise the position they were in. Snape's arse was inches away from his crotch. There was only one way those bruises could've gotten onto the Slytherin's hips.

"Oh no!" James proclaimed, stepping away and letting go of the boy's chilled skin. Immediately Snape whirled around and started shoving his clothes back on, "Someone fucked you didn't they?" James demanded, not understanding why that thought made him angry. He wasn't homophobic, but the thought of some guy having sex with Snape made him see red, "It was Malfoy wasn't it? Oh fuck, that's disgusting."

"Shut up Potter," Snape shoved past him, a look of complete despair in his eyes, the buttons of his shirt not done up, shoes in hand, and ran from the bathroom.

^°^°^°^°^°^°^°^

James cast the silencing spell on his bed and pulled the curtains closed, but he could still hear his roommates, talking in loud whispers about the prank planned for the first day of snowfall, even though it was well past midnight and all of them should've been asleep. James tried to ignore them, but was unable to fall asleep due to the amount of noise his friends were making. He wasn't in the mood to speak to them, not after his earlier encounter with Snape. He couldn't believe the boy was gay, and that he had let Malfoy of all people touch him. The thought made James' anger return, though he couldn't quite tell why he was so pissed off. Then he remembered the way Snape had reacted to Malfoy at the Three Broomsticks, how scared he had looked. What if Malfoy is forcing him? The boy thought. He'd have to check that soon.

Finally the other Marauders settled down and the room was filled with darkness and silence. Despite that James couldn't fall asleep - Snape's naked body kept flashing in his head. He was so pale, and so skinny, but there was something alluring about him. Merlin, gross, James tried to tell himself, but the bottom line was that he didn't think Snape was gross. Not anymore anyway.

He takes it up the arse, James thought distractedly. He should've been disgusted, he really should've. Instead his mind decided to screw him over as his thoughts began to wonder...what did Snape look like when he got fucked? Was he loud or quiet? James' eyes fluttered shut on his own accord and he couldn't help but start imagining things. In his head he saw Snape lying on a bed, pale legs spread apart, a cock thrusting inside him. The boy's head was thrown back, mouth swollen, cheeks red, eyes closed. James felt his blood rush south and his cock start to swell at his imagination and he quickly snapped his eyes open, heart pounding. No, no, no, no he thought desperately, but his desire got the best of him.

When James closed his eyes all he saw was Snape. In seconds he was too concentrated on his fantasy to worry about the fact that he was getting hard over Severus Snape. His hand subconsciously went down between his legs and the Gryffindor palmed at his erection through his boxers as his imagination continued to run wild. How would he look like? What noises would he make? The thoughts were a frenzy in James' head. He imagined Snape scrambling at the pillows and the covers in his pleasure as the cock continued to pound him, imagined that mouth that usually sneered and hissed offenses at James now letting out little breathy moans and please.

It was almost too much, just thinking about that. James pressed the side of his face into his pillow and bit his lip as his hand slipped inside his boxers and started to roughly stroke his already leaking cock. He was really doing it, he was wanking while thinking about Snape, his worst enemy and the person he was supposed to hate.

James' stomach was all in knots and he completely lost control over what he was thinking, just giving in to his hidden desires. Suddenly the covers Snape was lying on changed, and they were gold and red, and the person fucking the Slytherin was James. He imagined plunging into boy's wet, hot entrance, imagined how amazing it would feel, how would it compare to all the girls and boys James had been with before? James was quickly approaching his orgasm, and in his head so was Snape. He saw the boy's cock twitching against his smooth, pale stomach as he whined and whimpered, clawing at James and whispering his name in the most urgent way.

James came, hard. His cock twitched in his hand as he spurted come all over his gold and red blankets. The boy bit the pillow to keep back a groan of pleasure as his whole body shook. He held onto his throbbing cock for a few moments as he came down from the ecstasy and basked in the afterglow of his orgasm.

James rolled onto his back and looked at the canopy overhead, breathing hard. Then he pressed his clean hand over his eyes, the other one soaked with his come. He felt guilty, and unsatisfied. Worse thoughts than fucking Snape crept into James' head. Now the boy felt cold and alone, and more than anything he wanted the Slytherin there, wrapped up in James' blankets, in his arms.

That was a terrifying and complicated thought.