Disclaimer: No, I do not own the HP universe. How many times do I have to repeat this before you believe me?! What, only one more time? Well okay. No, I do not own the HP universe. Sigh.
A/N: Well, here's another little oneshot that I wrote because I liked the title. (Usually I pick the title after I write the story but I suppose it was a backwards day.)
Warnings: OOC (for good reason) silliness, and vague references to slash in the name of humor. (Hence the OOC warning.)
Snape grumbled to himself, blistering curses falling from his lips as he tried to scrub the smell of fish guts out of his hair. His head was bent over the porcelain sink as he worked his fingers through the dark strands and fumed at the injustice of it all. Why was he singled out out of everyone else in the entire school to be constantly ridiculed? What made him so special that he was graced with those so-called Marauders' attention? Especially by that no good, arrogant little Pot- his thoughts ended abruptly as the click of a door echoed through the Slytherin's bathroom.
Snape scowled, dunking his head under the running faucet to get rid of the shampoo. He didn't think anyone else would be around since it was the weekend and everyone was content to make mischief outside. Well no matter, he'd get out of here quickly before attracting more attention and go somewhere else. He grabbed the dark green fluffy towel he had placed on the marble counter top, rigorously toweling his hair dry. Perhaps he could go to the Potion's room and help out there, Professor Slughorn could always use a hand.
He pulled the towel off his head and nearly screeched at the image in the mirror. "Potter!" he exclaimed, seeing the boy's reflection standing behind him. He spun around, damp hair sending droplets of water flying though the air. His usual aloof expression settled on his face as James sheepishly took a step back. "Haven't you and your lackeys caused enough problems for one day?" he asked derisively, angrily folding his arms across his chest protectively. Snape didn't question how Potter had slipped past the Slytherin defenses; he didn't doubt the boy knew multiple ways in.
"Hey Snape, I figured you would be here since the, um, prank I pulled earlier." James looked contrite at the statement and awkwardly put a hand behind his head, none of the usual cocky expression on his face. That put Snape on the defensive, his features pulling down into a suspicious frown. He didn't say anything, wary that this was a trick. "Yeah I know that you think this is a trick, but it isn't," James continued.
Snape raised an eyebrow in response. So now Potter was a mind reader too. Why did that not surprise him? He pushed away from the counter top, uncomfortable with being alone in the room with Potter when his wand was carelessly tossed on his bed out of reach. "I just wanted to apologize for my actions," James said, trailing after Snape who was walking out the bathroom door. "It was wrong and I shouldn't have poured fish guts on your head." Snape let out a snort of agreement, walking faster to try to get away from him. James just walked faster. "And then I shouldn't have iced the floors and pushed you down the hall. And I definitely shouldn't have laughed when you slipped right down the stairs. And then-"
"What's your point?" Snape cut in a scowl etched across his face as he stopped abruptly causing James to almost slam into his back. He eyed James warily as James' hands went behind his back.
"I'm just saying we should start over again."
"Start over again," Snape repeated dully.
James nodded, a small smile on his face. "I shouldn't have picked on you because I was jealous of you good looks and stunning charm. So as a peace offering I made you some brownies." He brought his hands out from behind his back holding up a tray of steaming fresh brownies from seemingly out of nowhere.
If Snape's eyebrows climbed any higher they would have gone into his hairline, as he looked in surprise form the happy smile on Potter's face to the plate of baked goods in front of him. "Well I always knew you were envious of my hairstyle," he said in response, picking up a brownie. He paused with the brownie halfway to his mouth. "But if this is an elaborate prank, Potter I will not hesitate to hex your face off." That threat quickly fell through as he popped the treat in his mouth. "This is delicious," he exclaimed. "I'd be delighted to be your friend."
"Best friends." James nodded, slinging an arm around Snape's shoulders as they waltzed into a beautiful new friendship.
Snape bolted up in bed, a hand clutched over his racing heart as he gasped for breath. He wiped a shaking hand over his sweat slick forehead trying to rub away that hideous nightmare. His thin lips curled in a sneer as he got over his initial shock, as if he would have ever befriended that dunderheaded Potter. A slight shudder racked his lean frame at the thought and he felt the distinct need to go take a shower.
He felt a warm body lightly pressed into his back and he gave a small smile, the upward tilt of lips barely seen by the low lights of the room. "Bad dream?" a sleep roughened voice asked. Deft fingers worked out the kinks of Snape's shoulders and he relaxed a bit.
"Just thinking about our childhood days at Hogwarts," Snape quietly said after awhile. "And how things change over time."
"They were trying times for us all, now come on and lay down." A hand pressed on his shoulder. "I wanted to take you to the balloon animal farm tomorrow since it's going to be so nice out."
Snape huffed and grumbled something under his breath as he settled down on the bed. "I don't know why I let you talk me into these things," he muttered, adjusting his nightcap on his head. But he knew why, it was because he was madly, passionately in love with Sirius Black.
High-pitched screams filled the summer night air as Peter Pettigrew surveyed his handiwork. Remus had a faintly disturbed expression on his face, his s'more flying out of his hand as Sirius shook him in terror. James looked ill, his marshmallow catching on fire and plopping into the campfire as he wordless formed the words "Snape" and "friends" in a shocked manner. Peter couldn't tell exactly from across the flames but it looked like Sirius' face was bleached of color as he continued to emit terrified squeaks, a hand dramatically clutched to the front of his dog-print pajamas.
Peter gave a faint smirk and settled into his sleeping bag, clutching his pillow over his head to block out the chaotic noise. He didn't have many talents, but no one could beat him in telling a scary campfire story.