The Obligatory Spiel: All characters belong to their respective creators; I am only playing with them. Thanks for reading, and as always, R&R!

WARNING: This fic contains adult content. But if you didn't want it, you wouldn't have clicked! Don't read if the pairing(s) offend you.

Vengeance

A single pearl of sweat dripped from his hot temple to the rough stone floor. Severus' knees dug into the rock and were starting to go numb. The spraying water of the shower sounded against naked skin, interrupted by intermittent grunts and sighs. His eyes were squeezed shut; he could almost see stars. He wondered how much longer he would be subject to this submissive position.

The steam rose around the two bodies, clogging Severus' nose and lungs and making his head dizzy. He found it difficult enough to breath as he performed the task he'd become so hopelessly responsible for. James' hands twisted through his damp black hair, making sure his head stayed exactly where he wanted it. James' breathing increased and he began to grunt. Severus gripped his calves for support and could feel them tighten. It wouldn't be long now.

…

"I have Quiddich" James rasped. He always said that. It was his trademark goodbye. It absolved him of all responsibility for reciprocity, and left Severus cold and shivering in the showers, his hand furiously finishing off what James had started. It didn't matter to him anyway; he didn't even like James.

As James toweled off and put his glasses back on, Severus avoided the sight of his perfect ribcage and pale, shapely arms. He cursed himself for letting James get into his head, and cursed his lower-half for responding so willingly. He lowered himself along the wall, sitting with his knees up to hide his shameful desire from James.

James turned around and threw the half-damp towel at Severus. "See you later then," he turned from Severus and put on his robe. Severus did not respond; he never did.

"And remember Snivellus," James turned, his eyes glaring. "Keep your mouth shut."

…

Severus Snape snapped the quill in half and let the pieces fall to the floor. Damn his memories. The shrill sound of laughter snapped him from his trance and he looked towards the dungeon door as about ten first-years filed in, eagerly chatting and giggling. His eyes shrank in disgust. Another year, another bunch. He always hated the start of term, but this year, a particular feeling of dread presented itself when Severus caught wind of the news: Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived, was to embark on his Hogwarts career this year. Severus seethed at the thought of the wonderful James Potter's offspring becoming his student. What had Lily been thinking?

Snape's hands gripped his desk tightly at the thought of Lily. This was not the time, or the place. Hurriedly, he spun to face the chalkboard and drew a nub of chalk across it ferociously. It squeaked horribly and heads snapped to the front. Snape hadn't intended upon picking Harry out of the crowd, but as he turned to face his new students, it was impossible not to spot him.

Dusty brown hair, a slim smile and large green eyes behind round glasses: Snape could have recognized him anywhere. He could even see the end of a lighting-bolt scar just under his hairline. To his dismay, Snape found no traces of beautiful Lily in this boy; he was all James. He shuddered at the resemblance and felt himself beginning to sweat.

Severus' eyes lingered a bit too long on the boy, and he began to flinch under Snape's stare. Snape forced himself to tear his gaze away, and promised he would not let it fall there again. He looked to the rest of the students, recognizing only one other; the bright blonde hair and defiant sneer of a Malfoy was not hard to spot. At least there was some good blood in his class.

…

The first time Severus found an opportunity to punish Harry Potter, he felt as if he had been given a priceless gift. It started off small; a simple mistake made in Potions that Snape over-dramatized the significance of. The truth was, many students had made the mistake of adding one-too-many spoonfuls of powder to their brews, but Snape had no time for the others. Instead, he lingered over Harry until he found fault with his skill, upon which he slammed his hand down on the table and glared into his innocent green eyes.

"Potter," Snape muttered coldly. "Were you not paying attention? Or do you just find it beyond your duties as the heroic savior of the Wizarding World to follow the rules?"

Harry did not instantly respond. His Weasley-friend lowered his freckled face and Hermione Granger busied herself with her own potion. Snape did not break eye-contact with the boy, no matter how much of James he saw in those eyes.

Harry finally found his voice. "I'm--I'm sorry professor," he muttered. "But I haven't any idea what I've done wrong."

Snape's lip curled and he felt an even greater anger with Harry's defiance. "Twenty points," he spat, "from Gryffindor. And you will stay after class to fix your mistake."

Harry's expression did not alter. Ron Weasley sighed at the point-loss, but otherwise made no attempt to defend his friend. Snape gave one last glare to further prove his authority, and then moved back to the front of the classroom. He knew not what he intended to do to the boy, but if he was to endure the next seven years with Harry Potter, he would have to make it work somehow. He had endured at least four under James' relentless torture; he was owed vengeance.

Soon, Severus found it hard not to punish Harry. It did not help that as Harry spent more time with Snape, he began to get braver. He talked back and argued almost willingly, and Severus found more and more of James in his demeanor. But this time, Snape would not be the victim.

…

"Keep your mouth shut, Potter," Snape echoed the words Harry's dad had spoken to him years ago. He wondered if Harry felt the pain, the longing and the embarrassment. His arms were casually crossed over his naked abdomen, and his head was turned to the side nonchalantly, but Snape knew he would break; he always did.

Snape moved to his favourite chair in the great dungeon and sat upon the red velvet. Harry followed his movements, disdain on his face.

"I'd like to leave now," Harry grunted.

The game was on.

"Just like your father," Snape growled. "Always in a hurry to be nowhere at all."

Harry's eyes grew fierce and he uncrossed his arms. "It's been three months," Harry said. "And all you've told me about my parents is how rotten they were."

"That's really all there is to tell, I'm afraid," Snape brought his hand to his forehead pensively. "Besides, I have your word."

Harry's lip quivered. Snape noticed how grown-up he had actually become in his fifth-year. He was much stronger than his father, already, and had already seen and done so much more. By comparison, fifteen-year-old James was insignificant. Snape could wait no longer.

"Now, Potter!" He shouted, sitting up in the chair. Harry still looked defiant, but shook his head and moved forward.

Snape separated his robes as Harry lowered himself to his knees. How the roles have reversed, marveled Snape. The boy looked angry, disdainful and tortured, and Snape felt himself hardening. He closed his eyes gently as cold fingers wrapped themselves around his erection.

He could see James; it was always James. Tears ran down his young cheeks and his characteristic sneer was completely wiped from his face. Snape was the one puffing out his chest and pulling James' hair. Snape said when it was over. Snape was completely in charge. Yes, this is how it should have been. With a shudder, before Harry had scarcely enough time to warm his hand, Snape jerked and grunted, completely taken over the edge.

The boy followed out his duties, still scowling, but with a hint of satisfaction in his young eyes and, as Snape delightfully noticed, a hardening in his jeans. It was a desire Snape intended to leave unfulfilled, just as James would have done. But something else was playing with Snape's consciousness; something he couldn't quite understand, but it was making it very hard for him to resist exploring more of Harry Potter than just his hands.

Before he could give it more thought, Snape stood from the chair and looked down on the boy. Harry kept his head bowed and wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Occlumency is over," Snape muttered. "Don't be late tomorrow."

With that, he spun around quickly, his robes brushing past Harry's frowning face.