Severus Snape and the realization that the marauders are actually hot
Hogwarts Express
January 6th, 1976 – Back to School Blues
Regulus Black practically dragged himself into the train compartment, looking like he'd just emerged from a battlefield and lost half his soul in the process. He stopped dead in the doorway when he spotted Severus sitting alone, nose buried in some massive book about obscure potion reactions.
With a loud, theatrical sigh, Regulus flopped into the seat opposite him, arms splayed dramatically.
"Merlin, Sev. My brother and his lot are bloody insufferable." he groaned, his scowl practically carved into his face.
Severus didn't even glance up. "The Marauders stayed at your place over the hols?" he asked, flipping a page with surgical precision.
"Yes," Regulus muttered bitterly, throwing his head back. "Apparently it was Sirius's turn to host. You'd think one Christmas would be sacred in that godforsaken house, but no. It was constant noise. Constant pranks. Constant talking. Like they'd never heard of peace and quiet."
Severus raised an eyebrow, still not looking up. "So, standard Gryffindor idiocy then."
"Oh, it gets worse," Regulus grumbled, leaning forward now. "They tampered with my trunk before I left. Replaced all my proper photos—the ones of Kreacher and the stuff I actually cared about—with their own bloody polaroids."
Severus blinked at that. "They swapped your personal belongings... with pictures of themselves?"
"Yes!" Regulus said, fishing into his robe pocket. "And not just any pictures—these." He tossed a small Ziploc bag across the compartment with a grimace.
Severus caught it with a look of scepticism. "Why the hell are they in a Ziploc bag?"
"I didn't want Marauder stench rubbing off on my robes," Regulus sniffed, crossing his arms and looking away, clearly offended by the very concept.
Severus rolled his eyes, but opened the bag anyway and began thumbing through the stack of polaroids inside. Most of them were innocuous enough—Sirius with his arm slung lazily around James, Remus and Peter mid-laugh, a pillow fight in what appeared to be the Black family drawing room.
Then he froze.
One photo showed the three of them shirtless, grinning up at the camera like a calendar shoot gone rogue. Sirius had a bottle of butterbeer in hand, and James was doing something very unwise with a wand and a party hat. Severus's face flushed instantly.
"Uh—" he started, clearing his throat and trying to casually flip past it.
But Regulus was already on him.
"Merlin's beard!" he gasped, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. "Severus Tobias Snape likes the Marauders?!"
"I do not!" Severus snapped, cheeks now a rather traitorous shade of crimson.
"You do! You so do!" Regulus was practically vibrating with glee. "You stared at that one for a full five seconds longer than strictly necessary—don't deny it."
"Shut up!" Severus hissed, shoving the photos back into the Ziploc and chucking them in Regulus's general direction.
The younger Slytherin caught the bag with one hand, still smirking. "I am going to tell Evan and Charity. And maybe Mulciber if he's having a bad day. He could use a laugh."
"You wouldn't dare," Severus muttered, scowling as he picked his book back up.
Regulus raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?"
Severus glared harder, nose buried in the pages again. "You're insufferable."
Regulus leaned back smugly, twirling the bag of Polaroids on one finger. "And yet, here we are."
Unbeknownst to either of them, one of the photos—the shirtless one, of course—had mysteriously not made it back into the bag. It sat quietly, folded in half, tucked into the pocket of Severus's robes.
'Purely for evidence,' he told himself. 'Research.'
Obviously.