Dedicated to @mppmaraudergirl who brought us the gift that is Snotter.
If you don’t know what Snotter is… well, enjoy, I guess.
Pinch the ribbon. Twist it into a bow. Add a sprig of holly. Perfect
James picked up the box, perfectly prepared, hoping that his favorite Slytherin would appreciate the red and green wrapping paper with the gold and silver bows. Was it a bit over the top? Perhaps. It was a lot of decoration for one little present, but the way it combined their essences into one twiddly little package.
“Prongs, who is that for?”
James only spared a glance over his shoulder for his best friend and caught the puzzled look of his brow. He ignored it. It didn’t matter today. Today, he would declare his feelings for his one true love.
“Nevermind that, Padfoot. It’s a gift for someone special.”
“Must be. You put a lot of work into it.” Sirius walked up next to him, fingering one of the loops of the bow. “Is it for Evans then? Is this your new plan to win her over?”
James scoffed. “Evans? Evans who? No. This is for someone much more special.”
Without a backward glance, James walked down the staircase of the Gryffindor boy’s tower, out the portrait hole, and down seven flights of stairs until he reached the dungeons. Sirius trailed behind him the whole way, peppering James with questions about the present and the recipient. James offered no further information.
When they arrived at the portrait to the Slytherin dorms, James held up his hand, but hesitated before he knocked. He glanced back at Sirius, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and arms crossed over his chest. It didn’t matter. James had to do it.
He knocked.
Fear flooded through him. Hopefully he would come to the door himself. How could James possibly utter the name to someone else if he didn’t open the door? His heart was beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs, and he was about to turn around and run when the portrait swung open and revealed…
“What do you want, Potter?” The sneer on his face, half shielded by greasy locks hanging across his face, left James feeling all a flutter. “Or did you get lost and wind up in the dungeons?”
“I was looking for you, actually.” The choked noise behind him nearly matched the uncertain look on the face of the boy in front of him. “Happy Christmas, Snivellus.”
“You—” the other boy stuttered out a few words then cleared his throat. “You got me a present? For me?”
James felt himself blush slightly. “Yes, for you, silly. Open it.”
Snape accepted the package carefully, then held it away from him. “Is it going to explode?”
James’s face fell. Was his sincerity not obvious? “No, Sniv. It’s just a gift.”
Snape carefully removed the gold and silver ribbons, ripped through the red and green paper, and pulled the lid off the box. He stared down into it for a long, quiet moment. When he looked up, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and James knew he understood the importance of the gift. “You—you got this for me?”
“Of course I did. You needed it, right?” James shrugged a shoulder. “I thought, after what I did, you might want it. And an apology.”
Snape reached in the box and held up the pair of pristine, white briefs. “There’s no apology necessary. It’s the story of how we got together, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”
James’s face lit up (and he ignored the gasp of horror behind him). “Really? You want to be with me too?”
“Of course, you prick. Now give me a kiss.”
Snape closed his eyes and pursed his lips. James took a step forward, pursing his lips to match, and leaned forward. He let his eyes slide closed just a moment before their lips met—
James woke with a jerk, back in his bed in Gryffindor tower. He didn’t realize he had screamed until Sirius opened the curtain of his bed with his wand drawn. “You alright, Prongs? What’s going on?”
James ran a hand across his head, wiping away the sweat that had gathered in his panic. “I’m fine, Padfoot. Just a terrible nightmare.”
Sirius looked at him in concern. “Want to talk about it?”
“NO!” James shook his head violently. “No, definitely not. I’ll be fine. I’m—uh—I’m just going to shower.”
“Alright, mate. I’ll be in my bed if you need anything.”
James let the scalding hot water run over him, hoping to burn the memory of the dream out.