There is something about Snivellus that just rubs you wrong. It started with that stupid, little remark about houses and brains and brawn, and it went on from there. That friendless loser with his long hair and creepy spells just needs to be set straight from time to time. He just has it coming, plain and simple. Someone needs to knock that Dark Arts obsession out of his greasy head, and that someone may as well be you. You're just doing your part here and nobody can blame you, right? Damn right!

Severus Snape just pisses you off.

The worst part is Lily and how she tolerates him, how she lets him follow her around like a lost poodle. Doesn't she know? Doesn't she see that he's bad news? It should be obvious to someone as smart as her, but it's not. She sees him as a friend. A friend, for Merlin's sake!

Lily Evans – the beautiful, clever, popular Lily Evans – treats Snivelly like a friend, but she wants nothing to do with you. You're the star Quidditch player, you have friends, every girl wants you, but not Lily Evans, and it's all Snivelly's fault, of course, so you take it out on him.

A Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and a love triangle with an oblivious girl in the middle. Everyone sees it, and you hope that's all they're ever gonna see. This simple story is a perfectly good explanation. You'd give everything to make it true.

At first, you were watching Severus watch Lily. Then, at some point, you realized that you're just watching Severus. You tried to deny it at first. You tried to convince yourself that he just annoys you and there's nothing more to it. You and your friends kept on with the pranks, with the bullying, the torment, just so that you could get rid of these thoughts – the thoughts that come with puberty and just won't leave you alone.

It doesn't work. When you start having this kind of dreams, they're always about him. It should be Lily, or any other girl, but it's him. It's Severus Snape naked, Severus Snape with his head between your legs, Severus Snape tied to a bed, Severus Snape looking at you with something different than anger.

Every time you wake up, you hate him all the more - hurt him all the more - because it just can't be right. You're a Gryffindor, from a respectable and light family, and you would never develop such a deviation all on your own. It has to be his doing. Maybe he spiked your drinks with love potion, maybe it's something like a Confundus charm, but it has to be something he did, so you hurt him more, humiliate him more, just to show him that his tricks will never work. You loathe him, and he's failed to turn you into a pervert. You're a normal, red-blooded guy, thank you very much, and those ugly, unnatural urges will go away. You will make them go away.

You lose your virginity at the age of fourteen in a closet with a seventh year Hufflepuff girl. You try your hardest not to think about Snape throughout, but his face flashes before your eyes for a second as you come. When all is said and done, Sirius high-fives you and winks and you both laugh.

That did not help at all. You have to try again.

There are more girls after this one. Everyone wants James Potter, and you take advantage of that. You're just the playboy you were meant to be, not some filthy pervert. You know what is healthy and what is not.

Just these damn thoughts won't go away, and when you wake up hard at night after a dream about him, you just want to wring his neck. That image is satisfying, but not as much as it would be to take his clothes off and – STOP! Stop, and never revisit that train of thought. (You do revisit that train of thought, and more than once.)

You see him day after day, giving Lily those looks that she never notices, and you can't help but wonder what it would be like if he were to look at you the same way. You hex him for giving you the idea.

-ooo-

Sirius tells you about a brilliant joke he pulled, and you both laugh.

"Just imagine his face!"

Yes, that's a funny thought. That filthy, slimy Slytherin, scared like a little kid at the sight of Remus. Running like hell from a werewolf.

A werewolf...

You sober up and you realize that Severus will die.

Severus will die!

You run and you pull him out of there as fast as you can.

If he were to die or be turned, you and Sirius would lose more than house points and face more than detention. There would be expulsion, maybe even Azkaban, and Remus would be executed. You spend months telling yourself that those are the reasons why you saved Snivelly's life. You repeat it so many times that you should be convinced, but you're not. Deep down, you know the truth.

The thoughts about consequences for you and your friends didn't exist at that moment, and you know it even as you try not to know. The reasons, the excuses, the justifications only came when he was safe. At the time, you only thought about him, and about how badly you don't want him to die.

You hate him just a little bit more after you admit that.

-ooo-

There is a silver lining, no matter how small. Even if you can't fool yourself, you sure as hell can fool everybody else. They watch you strip him naked and they don't react. Nobody figures it out. You're living out your fantasy in broad daylight, and the crowd just watches.

You have him defenseless, you can look at the parts of him you've never seen before, and nobody calls you out.

Well, Lily comes to his rescue, she calls you arrogant, but she doesn't see through you. Nobody does, and that's how it has to stay. You flirt with her just like this pig-headed jock she sees you as, just to stay on the safe side. Then he calls her a mudblood and she leaves him to you.

Later, you can't sleep at night. You think about that look of loathing in his eyes and you cry. You cry like a little girl, and it's not manly at all, so you need to stop. You're not a sissy like him. You have to be better than this. He hates you, and he's supposed to because you sure as hell hate his guts and you will keep making sure that he never forgets.

You hate him, hate him, hate him so much that it almost makes you hate yourself less. Almost.