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James Potter is the most handsome man Severus has ever met.
Dark, dark hair always perfectly tussled and curled, his brown skin deep and beautiful, his body hard and defined from years of Quidditch. His trousers cling to his thighs like second skin and his jumpers make his broad shoulders only broader.
He’s always the center of attention, a hero to the younger Gryffindor boys and eye candy to the girls. He and his friends are already legends, all of them handsome and charismatic and always pulling pranks that’re bound to be looked back on decades in the future. There’ll never be another group like the Marauders in Hogwarts, that’s what everyone always says.
Severus is nothing like James Potter. He’s pale, his hair is flatter, longer, less perfect. He has no muscles, is short and scrawny because while puberty was kind to the Marauders, it was less so for him. Nothing he eats sticks and he has no interest in sports, even if it would do his body good.
He’s certainly not as charismatic as Potter, his smiles aren’t white and wide like his, his quips less funny and more sarcastic, it’s all too easy to misunderstand and take offense where he’s meant none. Severus spends his days on the edges of the crowd, watching James Potter fly on his broom like he was born to do it, after which he retreats to the shade to sit with his Potions assignment or his books where he’s not paid any attention because he is only Severus.
He is nothing like James Potter and yet, the boy pushes his way through his crowd of admirers, all the beautiful and fit admirers, in search of him and when he sees him, a smile spreads on his face, a white and wide smile, and Severus’ heart stutters.
He is nothing like James Potter and still the boy comes to him, sweaty and excited, and presses a kiss to his temple, trapping him in the prison of his big arms, talking about winning and why Severus is doing homework, it’s a Friday, Sev! and Severus can do nothing but smile and wonder where he went so right in his life as to get James Potter on his side.
Severus Snape is nothing like James. He is the most beautiful man James has ever met, pretty and delicate where James is a brute, loud and always taking up space. His skin is like pearls, his hair like the midnight sky, and James will never get tired of mapping the stars with his eyes, his fingers, his lips.
Severus is the type to command a room with no words, simply his presence is enough. He’s not like James, who talks and talks and is prone to theatrics, but when he speaks, it’s important. He’s clever, he’s funny, in that dry sort of way that people don’t always get, but James does, he always does. He doesn’t need Severus to talk a lot, he can talk enough for the both of them.
He does not deserve Severus Snape, because he is flawed and arrogant, done more harm than good and Severus is kind, selfless and so, so kind. Somehow though, when he wraps his arms around a slim waist, he is not pushed away, he is not ignored. There is a hand winding into his hair, a low voice telling him how annoying he is, can’t he see Severus is studying, not like he’d know anything about that–
Severus Snape is nothing like James, and he’s glad for it, because he doesn’t want another James. He just wants Severus.