Slytherin Wins

Hogwarts–Potions Class

James slid his potion ingredients aside, watching Severus with a half-smirk. “You know Snape, you make it look easy”

Severus didn’t look up, but his voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Don’t try to flatter me, Potter. It’s hardly going to help you brew your own. I don’t give answers for free.”

James leaned closer, practically hovering over Severus’ work, but Severus didn’t flinch.

“C’mon I’m not asking for answers. Just.. a bit of advice. How do you get your potion to look so perfect?” James asked, genuinely intrigued but not willing to admit it. 

Severus paused, glancing up at him with narrowed eyes. 

“You want advice, Potter?” Severus muttered.

“I don’t think it’s your lack of ingredients that’s the problem. Maybe you should just focus on the process than making everything so… flashy”

James grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment”

Severus just stared at him for a moment before turning back to his cauldron “If you keep interrupting me, you’ll ruin your potion. Again”

James grin widened, though his eyes betrayed something more complicated, like he was fighting an urge to say something more. “Maybe that’s what I want, Snape. Maybe I want you to notice.”

Severus didn’t respond to that, focusing intently on his work. But his hand shook slightly as he poured the final ingredient in, and the potion bubbled, emitting a faint glow. Severus didn’t have time to think what it was though as Slughorn announced the end of class. 

James straightened up as Slughorn’s booming voice echoed through the classroom, but he didn’t move away from Severus just yet. He watched Severus carefully, the light flickering off the cauldron as the potion settled into its final form. A strange, almost magnetic tension hung in the air between them.

“See you at the next match, Snape,” James said, his voice light but carrying something deeper underneath. His smirk was back, but there was a subtle flicker of something else in his eyes—something Severus couldn’t quite place.

James didn’t look back as he grabbed his things and gave a last, almost playful glance in Severus’ direction. Severus stayed there, standing at the cauldron, feeling the heat from it radiate up his arms. As the students filed out, leaving the dungeons behind, he found himself alone with only his thoughts.

The remnants of their brief exchange gnawed at him. What was that about? Why did James have to do that? Severus turned his eyes to the potion again, but it didn’t seem as important anymore. The glimmer of something unspoken was now more of a distraction than the brew in front of him.

With a resigned sigh, Severus packed his things and left the classroom, his mind spinning with more questions than answers.

He didn’t know if he was thankful or regretful that he told Regulus and Barty ‘yes’ on being a Keeper. He's letting himself get played but he's hoping his own cunning will win and he will manage to be closer friends with Potter at the end.

Severus thinks that's very Slytherin of him. 

Later in the day– Gryffindor Common Room

James dropped onto the couch in the Gryffindor common room with a frustrated sigh. They had just lost, and it gnawed at him. He could still feel the weight of Severus’ gaze in the air, sharp but hesitant, when their eyes met, there was some there a bit like … taunting, something intense. 

He specifically came in late to Potions class today so he can sit next to the Slytherin. The whole interaction made his heart full and the proximity excited him but, he still couldn't figure him out. No cracks and James had been feigning being playful hoping Snape would at least smile or tell him he's interested. 

There was also the pressure on his team since it was practically his fault they lost that match but strangely, he did not seem to mind. His thoughts were a bit scattered on the day since he was focused on winning but also protecting the Slytherin.

He won on one but lost on the other. 

James can get used to losing but this one was just different.

Across the room, Peter caught his eye, his lips curling into a teasing smile. "James, you alright?"

He glanced at him, then back down at his hands. "I’m fine. Just—" he paused, his thoughts momentarily flickering back to Severus. "Just thinking about... stuff."

"Stuff?" Peter raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

James ran a hand through his hair, his gaze wandering to the window. "Like how Snape looks at me sometimes. Do you ever notice that?"

Peter snorted, leaning forward. "Oh please, you’ve got a crush on him for ages, James. Maybe he finally noticed your staring” a knowing look on his eyes.

"Of course, not. I'm subtle," James muttered. "I’m just... trying to figure him out. Why the hell does he always stare at me like that? It’s like he’s daring me to do something." Like protect him. Keep him near. 

Peter raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. "Maybe it's all in your head or maybe he’s just as confused as you are."

James shot him a look. "I’m not confused. I know exactly what I’m doing."

Peter chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Sure you do, James. Sure you do.”

The topic was dropped when Remus and Sirius came by and honestly, he probably should've pondered ok it a bit more as the next few weeks he will unintentionally choose one over the other.

Quidditch Pitch — Slytherin vs Gryffindor Match 3

The Quaffle soared through the air, straight toward Gryffindor's left hoop.

“JAMES!” Dawson shrieked from her Keeper position.

But James was too busy flying dangerously close to the Slytherin goalposts, watching Severus twist awkwardly midair as he tried to fend off a Bludger.

“James, for the love of Merlin!” Sirius shouted, spinning to block a late pass far too late.

Regulus slipped through the confusion, passed the Quaffle, and scored cleanly.

Cheers erupted from the Slytherin side. The Gryffindors groaned.

Dawson zipped toward him, furious. “They only use him when they verse us! Can’t you see? They’re using him against you!”

James blinked, barely hearing her. His eyes were still locked on Severus, who had finally regained balance, gripping his broom with white-knuckled tension.

Quidditch Pitch — Slytherin vs Gryffindor Match 4

Sirius slammed his bat into a Bludger, sending it rocketing toward Rosier, but James didn't even register the perfect setup for a counterattack.

He was already gone—again—hovering close to Severus’s side of the pitch.

A second Bludger curved toward Snape, and James dove, deflecting it at the last second.

Back on Gryffindor's side, their formation was falling apart.

Dawson flew up beside him, exasperated. “What do you want me to do, leave him to injure himself?!” James said before she could even speak.

“He can’t be injured, he needs to find an apprenticeship next year,” he added.

She narrowed her eyes. “How did you even know that? You’re not friends.”

James looked away. “I just do.”

Quidditch Pitch — Slytherin vs Gryffindor Match 5: The Final Straw

The score was close. Too close. The Snitch was still at large, the teams circling like wolves. Gryffindor could still win—if their captain got his head in the game.

But as Regulus faked a loop around the goal, Severus lost his balance on a sudden turn.

“Snape—!”

James was gone before anyone could stop him, flying to Severus’s side like a lifeline.

“James!” Dawson yelled from behind, furious.

Regulus zipped past, smiling lazily. He saw the opening. No Keeper. No Chasers in position. No Potter.

He scored again.

As Madam Hooch blew the final whistle, the stands shook with emerald celebration.

Back in the air, Sirius floated next to Fawley and Dawson, looking deadpan.

James turned to them midair, breathless.

“We can resolve this later,” he said, trying to act serious, though his eyes had already shifted toward the Slytherin huddle.

And then—he did it.

He skipped. Skipped like a bloody schoolboy across the pitch to Severus, practically beaming.

The Gryffindor team groaned in unison.

Phoebe Dawson muttered, “I’m going to hex his knees.”

Hogwarts Grounds– Post Match

James found him not far from the Slytherin huddle, standing awkwardly near the trees, half-shadowed in the fading afternoon light. His dark hair was windswept from the game, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, yet still sharp and wary.

“Hi, Snape,” James said, awkwardly tucking his broom under his arm.

Severus looked at him flatly. “If you’re here for our team tactics, forget it.”

“What? No! I was genuinely—trying to see how you are,” James stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly unprepared for this level of interrogation.

Severus blinked, then let out a laugh. A real one. Short, dry, but warm enough to make James freeze for just a moment.

“Yeah, I know. Just teasing. It was alright. Normal.” he said hiding the little tremors he had during the match.

James laughed back, boyish and a little breathless.

There was a quiet between them. Not awkward. Not comfortable either. Just… balanced on a thread. 

Their interactions became a bit friendlier after the Slytherin joined his Quidditch team. It made James ecstatic but, also so frustrated as he somehow couldn't leave the other alone.

“So… the Slytherin team, eh?”

Severus scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Regulus and Barty’s idea. Said they’d give me a few galleons if I played.”

James tilted his head, curious. “What do you need galleons for?”

Severus’s expression shifted—barely perceptible, but there. A flicker of something private. Guarded.

He didn’t answer.

James noticed. “Oh. Right. Sorry,” he said, jumping to a conclusion that was probably wrong—but not unwelcome to his imagination.

Severus looked at the ground, then shrugged. “Well, it’s alright, I guess. You’re right—I don’t really need it right now. I wasn’t sure they’d keep me on the team this long, anyway, considering my… lack of coordination.”

“What do you mean?” James frowned, genuinely affronted. “You were great! I was there, you know.”

“I was mostly trying not to fall off my broom,” Severus muttered. “Honestly, I’m amazed I didn’t get hexed mid-air.”

“I guess you’ve got some guardian wixen looking out for you then,” James said, smiling.

“You think so?”

Their eyes met again—onyx and hazel—and the moment stilled. The world around them continued in soft focus: the wind whistling, the fading cheers from the stands, the rustle of leaves overhead.

Then—

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWW—"

A very loud gag came from a nearby bush.

Severus turned his head sharply. Lily Evans poked out from behind it, squiggling her eyebrows. Alice and Mary were behind her, both grinning like they were watching a love potion kick in.

Severus flushed immediately.

“Anyway,” he said sharply, backing away, “nice catching up, Potter. I have to meet my friends.”

As he turned to leave, James—driven by something impulsive and stupid and utterly him—reached out and gently grabbed his wrist.

“Call me James, Severus.”

Severus froze. For just a moment. Then looked over his shoulder, voice almost a whisper.

“See you… James. Stay safe.”

James watched him walk away, caught between thunderstruck and utterly giddy. His grin came slow but unstoppable. The team may have lost, but it didn’t feel like a loss—not today.

And so, James Potter turned back to the pitch with a ridiculous skip in his step and much too much celebration to plan for someone who just got wrecked by Slytherin.

Everything was good. That is until he got a smack on the head and glares from his amused teammates. 

As they try to grab him he bolted, broom on hand. 

With the wind feeling tickling his hair and nipping his face, James felt unstoppable.

Hogwarts – Great Hall Entrance

Lily, Alice, and Mary walked in with Severus, who was still mid-protest.

“I didn’t even say it like that!”

“‘See you… James.’” Mary mocked in a sing-song voice.

“‘Stay safe… James.’” Alice added, giving a mock pout.

“I swear to Merlin, I’m never speaking again.”

“Too bad,” Lily grinned. “Because now you’re going to tell us how you feel.”

“I don’t feel anything—”

“Oh, come off it, Sev,” Alice interrupted. “You’ve been pinning since third year. You can lie to everyone else, but not us.”

“I’m not pining—he’s not even—look, actions speak louder than words, and I don’t see Potter—James—confessing to me in the past four years, so…”

Lily raised a brow. “But it’s James, remember?” She wiggled her eyebrows again.

Severus groaned and buried his face in his arms as they reached their seats.

“Leave me aloneeeee.”

The girls laughed, letting the teasing fade as the rest of their friends arrived at the table. The conversation shifted, but the warmth lingered.

A Few Minutes Later – Still in the Great Hall

As the group started eating at the Slytherin table, Regulus sat next to them, announcing his hunger and started a conversation with Lily.

Everything was great. Until they started telling the Black heir what happened.

“Stay safe, Severus,” she said sweetly, mock-innocent.

“Oh, I’ll be safe. I’ll be so safe” Regulus added dramatically, plopping his head onto Lily's shoulder.

Severus flipped them off with one hand while spooning potatoes with the other.

Lily smacked his wrist, laughing. “You know all the evidence is there, but you still won’t admit James likes you back.”

Severus rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, he let himself glance across the Great Hall.

James was at the Gryffindor table, laughing with Sirius, his hair still a mess from the wind, a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He looked like a storm in golden light.

Severus looked away.

It doesn’t mean anything, he told himself. He was just being nice.

What he didn’t see—what he didn’t want to see—was that just as he turned away, James turned to look at him.

Hazel eyes softened. A thumb dragged across his lower lip in thought. His smile returned—but smaller now. Gentler. Quiet.

The Great Hall–The Staff Table

Professor McGonagall sipped her tea. “I give them until the Yule Ball.”

“Three weeks?” Flitwick chirped. “Oh, please. One of them will explode emotionally before then. Two weeks, max.”

Sprout raised a hand. “Ten Galleons says Potter kisses him before Severus says anything.”

“I say it ends in a duel and a very dramatic make-out,” Slughorn chuckled.

“I’ll put five on Snape confessing in the library by accident,” Hooch added casually.

At the center of the table, Dumbledore leaned back, stroking his beard with his twinkle turned up to eleven.

“No bets for me,” he said, smiling serenely. “I’m simply enjoying the show.”

…

“Twenty galleons they confess during or after a Quidditch match” Barty chimed in behind the Headmaster’s seat.

“OR that's twenty points from Slytherin Bartemius Crouch!” McGonagall snapped, feeling a jolt of surprise when the boy appeared.

“Oh dearie…” Slughorn laughed before he shooed the boy, who with his cheeky self stole a turkey leg before saluting the headmaster and walked away.

Quidditch Pitch — Slytherin vs Gryffindor Match 6

The clouds hung low over the stadium, casting long shadows on the pitch. The stands were alive with the sound of chants and cheers, scarlet and emerald banners fluttering in the wind. The air was tense—the last Gryffindor vs Slytherin match game before Yule. This wasn’t just a game. It was war.

Madam Hooch’s whistle shrieked through the air.The game was on.

Players launched into the sky like firecrackers. Among them, Severus Snape, Slytherin’s last-minute Keeper, ascended awkwardly into the chaos. He hovered stiffly near the goalposts, clutching his broom like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to earth. Because, well, it was.

He wasn’t meant to be here.

He didn’t even like flying.

But Slytherin was still down a Keeper, and Slughorn had convinced him with some half-hearted “You’re a sharp one, Severus, quick reflexes!” and a forced pat on the back. Regulus and Crouch vouched for his inexistent skills also made it worse. 

The problem? Quick reflexes didn’t mean much on a broom if you couldn’t steer.

It was only for a few games and the previous was supposed to be the last and he already got what he wanted. James and him are already almost friends, he was going to stop.

The wind blew a bit harder, sweeping everyone slightly on the left. No one flinched but, Severus' hands felt that cold and he shivered. 

‘Last one. This then no more’ he promised himself as he managed to stop a quaffle out of a hoop.

James Potter flew higher, circling fast above the midline, barking instructions at Sirius and Fawley, who were already dueling with Slytherin’s Chasers. His eyes darted constantly—not just following the quaffle, not just scanning for the snitch, but flicking, always, to the goalposts across the pitch.

To him.

Severus blocked a weak shot from Dawson but nearly tipped sideways doing it. He barely recovered in time before a bludger zipped past his shoulder.

James swore.

“Keep your formation!” Dawson yelled, diving toward a loose quaffle.

But James didn’t hear her. He was tracking another bludger, one hurtling toward the Slytherin hoops—toward Severus again. The Slytherin Beaters were busy targeting the Bell brothers, leaving Severus wide open.

James Potter shot into the sky like a bullet, hair windswept, eyes blazing with focus. He was already scanning the pitch, not just for the quaffle—but for him.

Severus Snape lagged behind the rest of the Slytherin team, gripping his broom far too tightly, jerky in his movements. He wobbled slightly as he rose, awkward and stiff, clearly out of place among the sharp formation of his teammates.

James cursed under his breath. Why do they keep putting him up here? He’d heard the rumors—their Keepers were all healed bit requested time of for this match to study and Slughorn had pushed Snape into the lineup again after quitting. “It’ll build house unity, just one more game” he’d probably said with a cheerful grin.

A bludger whizzed past James’s ear and he jerked his broom left, catching sight of Slytherin’s beater laughing as he sent the iron ball screaming toward Gryffindor’s Keeper. The match was vicious from the start—bludgers flying, fouls being called and ignored, Slytherin playing dirty, as usual.

James intercepted a pass from Sirius and hurled the Quaffle straight through the left hoop. The Gryffindor stands exploded.

“Nice shot, Potter!” Sirius yelled, looping overhead.

But James wasn’t smiling. His eyes flicked again to the his right. Severus was trying to follow the play, but his broom drifted too far right, and he had to overcorrect to avoid colliding with a goalpost.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” James muttered.

He looped around as the Slytherin Chasers. They were fast—Regulus Black, in particular, zipped like a shadow past the Gryffindor defenders but James still tracked him.

Severus was drifting again. Out of position. Vulnerable.

Then it happened.

And James dove.

The world narrowed into that single moment—Snape turning too late, the bludger a black comet aimed at his ribs—and James intercepting it with a bone-jarring crack of his bat. The deflected bludger spiraled into the air. The force of the move spun James sideways.

And Severus tipped off his broom.

“No—no—NO—!”

James reached out instinctively, closing his fist around Severus’s wrist just as his leg slipped from the footrest. For a terrifying second, Severus dangled midair, broom tilting, wind howling. Then, James pulled with everything he had, hauling him back upright.

The crowd screamed. The game raged on.

“You complete idiot,” Severus hissed, panting, regaining control of his broom.

“Yeah, well, it’s mutual!” James barked. “You’re about as aerodynamic as a wardrobe!”

“You’re not even on my team! What are you doing?!”

“I’m trying to keep you alive, you absolute—” James cut himself off, hovering too close now, heart still pounding from the near fall. “You shouldn’t even be up here. You're not built for this.”

“I know that,” Severus snapped. “But I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?”

“You think that matters to me?” James shouted, face flushed. “You think I care about House rivalry and who’s wearing green or red? Every match our teams had this season, I've been watching them aim for you. I've been forcing turnovers just to pull pressure off you. I've been flying like my life depended on it—not for the cup. For you.”

Severus stared at him, stunned into silence.

“And I didn’t know why. I didn’t want to know. But every time you looked scared, or determined, or just tired of fighting, I—I felt like I had to fix it. Like I’d fall apart if I didn’t.”

James let out a breath, voice quieter now, strained with honesty. “I care about you, Snape. More than I should. More than makes any sense. You’re infuriating and stubborn and sarcastic and you make me want to hex a wall—but I think I’m in love with you.”

Wind rushed around them. The pitch spun below.

Severus’s fingers tightened on his broom handle. His face was unreadable—but his voice cracked just slightly as he spoke.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered. “A reckless, loud, maddening idiot.”

Then softer, “But you’re not wrong.”

James blinked. “What?”

“I’ve been watching you too,” Severus said, his voice barely audible above the wind. “And I hate this game, I hate this broom, and I hate being up here—but not if you’re there. I only made it this far because I knew... you’d be watching and I wanted to be closer to you”

A scream echoed across the field.

“REGULUS BLACK CAUGHT THE SNITCH, SLYTHERIN WINS!”

Green flares burst into the sky. Slytherins exploded in celebration while, Gryffindors groaned in disbelief.

But James and Severus floated there, suspended above it all, hearts racing louder than the crowd, tethered only to each other.

END OF STORY