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There was something wrong with a guy who groped girls as a team activity, then ran straight off to his boyfriend after.
“Sirius, that’s—stop doing that right in front of me, you ass!”
“Tough, James.” Sirius dragged his mouth away from Remus’ with a reluctant suction sound. “Shouldn’t you be off tackling men and chasing balls?”
“Fuck off. Football is completely manly. Quit twisting it to fit your deviant desires,” James grumbled, dropping into the seat next to him. “Besides, you shouldn’t just suck his face off like that. Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”
Sirius snorted.
Remus eyed James with malicious intent.
James realized his mistake five seconds too late and began scooting his desk away with an earsplitting shriek of metal on linoleum.
Across the room, Severus Snape’s head hit his desk with a resounding thump.
It was a Tuesday. Perhaps, Severus reflected many Tuesdays later as he dangled by his ankles in the janitor’s closet, the general air of psychotic idiocy that radiated from Sirius Black on that very first Tuesday should have served as a warning: gay cheerleaders are a menace to society and the general well-being of one Severus Snape.
There was the soft click of heels moving rapidly towards the closet, and Severus squeezed his eyelids tight in the face of imminent humiliation.
“…Severus?”
Oh. Oh, fuck.
This wasn’t humiliation. Black had killed him, and he was roasting in eternal hellfire, because there was absolutely no possible way that his luck could otherwise be as bad as to have—
“Oh, God, Severus, that is you!”
He felt hands latch to his ankles, freeing him from whatever Black had used to stick him there, the psychotic bastard. One eyelid squeezed open only to be immediately wrenched shut again.
His luck was that bad.
Lily Evans had found him tied upside down by his ankles in the janitor’s closet.
His luck was unacceptably bad.
“I can’t believe—the nerve of some—!” He could hear her ranting under her breath, his head cocking just slightly upward to catch more of her abuse against Potter and Black, but his joy was cut short as she freed his ankles, his head dropping to the ground with a loud hollow noise. “Oh, Severus, are you all right?” She knelt down next to him, pulling him upright.
“…Yes.” He said sullenly, reminding himself for what had to be the millionth time that day that he must breathe through his nose, no matter the discomfort. Black’s sneering, “You a mouth breather, too, Snivillus?” sounding clear for a moment.
“Well, don’t even worry!” Lily’s eyes glinted with a disturbing determination. “I’ll take care of those idiots. They won’t even consider—”
“You don’t need to.” Did she really think him so pathetic? Her smile said no, but the rather distant hand perched just barely on his shoulder seemed to imply that yes, she did in fact think him pathetic and slightly viral, and could he please stop breathing on her in such a creepy manner?
Fucking Tuesdays.
He’d had to convince her that she didn’t need to escort him home. That would have been beyond humiliating. She rarely ever spoke to him nowadays, always busy and always moving, and he refused to let her waste her time thinking him a sorry waste of space.
Besides, Regulus owed him a favor. It was time for the littlest Black to pay up.
“All right, so, like, aside from messing with my brother’s head? Yeah, like, I totally just want to see the look on that one guy’s face.” Regulus had a tendency to gesture when he spoke, his arms moving faster and higher with each syllable. “Because, like,” his hands stopped, grappling at the pictures spread out on the table between them, “he’s just so totally everywhere, you know? Like, my brother is never alone. It’s always that one guy and his totally stupid face.”
Ah, yes, Remus Lupin: Sirius Black’s boyfriend, quite possibly the most enigmatic member of the student body, and ‘that one guy.’ Regulus wasn’t all that verbose, but Severus couldn’t find anything else that fit the bastard better than ‘that one guy’ either.
“Of course. His face is completely stupid, and I fully sympathize with your plight. Now fork over the pictures before I smash your at-home manicure kit.”
Regulus rolled his eyes, waving the stack of photos at him. “Don’t be such a queen, Severus. And remember, you didn’t get these from me, right? Sirius would totally smash my face in.”
“Duly noted,” he intoned, grabbing the pictures and eyeing them with a morbid sort of delight. Sirius Black was going to rue the day he ever stuck his leg in Severus’ walking path that very first day of Calculus. And immediately, his mouth dropped open. “I’ll just be leaving now,” he muttered, jamming the photos into his backpack and leaving without another word, ignoring Regulus’ prissy wave as he sped out the door.
The pictures—Severus broke into a manic grin. They were far, far better than he could have ever hoped. Not only would he single-handedly crush Sirius Black’s pride, but likely his relationships with both his boyfriend and Potter, the jackass. Revenge, he thought hungrily, was quite possibly the best thing ever, except possibly sex, but, then, he’d never had that anyway, so who cared?
With any luck, the school would still be open.
Evil plans, as with any plans, always had hitches. Severus, after enacting his extremely wicked plan, found himself locked in the school and had to break himself out by busting the window in the old Chemistry lab open. He could only hope that no one would notice the shattered glass for a few days, by which time he would have a solid alibi. Probably.
Narrow escapes notwithstanding, Severus practically ran to school the next morning, forcing himself to be no earlier and no later than normal. After all, he’d hate to give away the game so soon.
“Like, you didn’t!” Regulus grabbed his arm as he walked in the front. “You so did, didn’t you? Severus Snape, you sneaky—”
“Finish that alliteration, and I will save Black the trouble of ending your life himself,” Severus sneered. “Has he seen it yet?” He added in a whisper.
“Not yet.” Regulus had never, in all the time they’d known each other, looked so excited. “If you get there quick, you’ll just beat him.” So Severus ran.
And was immediately tripped by Lucius Malfoy, to which he responded by a swift kick to the shins and fled into the crowd of students in the front lobby.
Fucking idiot, he grumbled to himself, working his way to the student bulletin board just outside the cafeteria. There were more students gathered around it than normal, and Severus felt his lips twitch as he held back a manic grin, refusing to implicate himself.
—and there it was, his masterpiece.
The usual announcements about team activities and the like might as well have been invisible, covered and surrounded with dozens of pictures all depicting the same thing: Sirius Black fucking and sucking a man. Even better, that man wasn’t Remus Lupin. It was James Potter, football captain, best friend of Black, and supposed heterosexual.
The students around him looked utterly scandalized, and, judging by the furious whisperings, word of the photos would be spreading fast.
“What the fuck?” James Potter broke through the crowd, his face dropping to a pasty white shade when he got an eyeful of the photos. “Holy shit.”
“Oi, Potter, what—Oh. Oh, hell.” And there was Black. Severus restrained himself from breaking into a jig. Black looked a bit less concerned than Potter did, but this was Sirius Black, after all, so it was hardly surprisingly.
“What’s everyone staring at?” The crowd of students went completely silent as Remus Lupin stepped through, stopping dead as the bulletin board came into view. “Oh,” he said blandly.
“Um,” Black added. Potter gurgled in distress, putting a few good feet in between them.
“Sirius,” Lupin said slowly, and the students all leaned forward, Severus included, waiting for the most unemotional teenage boy in the world to explode in the face of his boyfriend and best friend’s treachery, “aren’t those the photos from last summer?”
“I think so,” Black weakly. Severus blinked uncomprehendingly as Lupin moved closer, plucking one of the photos off the board.
“Definitely,” he nodded. “I took most of these, didn’t I? Me and—Huh. I’d forgotten that part,” he trailed off in a murmur. Severus felt certain his face was turning an unattractive red at this point. All that planning! Wasted! And the window! his mind reminded him.
“Can we—” Potter cleared his throat, obviously in quite a bit of distress now that his sordid personal life had come to light. “Can we take them down now?”
Perhaps, Severus thought as the three boys began to remove the incriminating photos, he could still take pleasure in knowing that he at least destroyed Potter, if only a bit.
Three days later, no one remembered the photos, and, when Potter asked Lily Evans out, she said yes. Somehow, Severus reflected, everything was entirely Black’s fault. He just didn’t quite know how yet.