The Sixteen Year Old Hangover

Snape leered, licking the blood off his lips, removed a vial from a pocket in his robe and swallowed it in one gulp. That would help numb the pain. He gritted his teeth, and made an attempt to straighten his nose with a finger and thumb.

Gr-chukh-cqck...no...

kjick..ck. Ahh-GGhh...

SQURRR-ICK!

Shite. It was just no good - it was even more stubbornly bent than ever. In fact it probably wouldn't take much more abuse before it was as crooked as his father's. Ictus Snape had been an excessively violent man, who had loved a damn good punch-up. He had been infamous as the main starter of wizard brawls in the Three Broomsticks in the Sixties.

Severus was not Ictus though - while Ictus liked to hit everyone else, everyone else liked to hit Severus. His face attracted fists like a candle flame attracted moths.

All part and parcel of being an annoying little shit.

But, oh, he had to see if those eyes still flashed the same. One more time. A thin lip curled. Sev was a sick, twisted bastard, and well he knew it.

'Ah! If it isn't Severus Snape, me old chum! HA HA, WAYHAY - MAGIC! What are you doing down there, and where in Merlin's name have you been these past few years?'

That voice bellowing across the garden was horribly, horribly familiar. The sick, twisted bastard smile swiftly slithered off the sallow face. What cover he had left had now been blown by Bloody Ravenclaw, bloody Spencer Sharpe, the only git in his year who got a higher mark in NEWT Potions than he did.

Three hundred and ninety six percent to his three hundred and ninety four! He had lost the trophy for the all time school record by a measley two percent! To this twit! How that had ate into him these past couple of years!

'Whad does it look like I'm dewing? Abmiring de scenery frob a snake's point ob view?' he snapped irritably at the tall shape that was bending over him.

Snape made an important mental note: Broken noses and sarcastic comments make strange bedfellows. 'Isn't that Shakespeare?' he thought. 'The 'strange bedfellows' bit was anyway. H'm, mother's taste in bedtime stories...'

Ravenclaws with all their intelligence were also often a bit odd. But this Ravenclaw was so intelligent he was skirting on mad. Mad enough to actually like Slytherins, no matter what they said, or did to him. He had worked out whole theories for it too. Snape grimaced as the well built Sharpe beamed down at him, before noticing that he was dressed up as a...

'Whad...in Berlin's nambe?' muttered Snape, his jaw dropping slightly.

'Sheriff Sharpe of the Old Wild West, Severus!' beamed Spencer proudly, lifting his wide brimmed hat. 'At yer service!'

Snape stared, and quite forgot to sneer. Sure enough, there was the sheriff badge. And also, a red spotty cravat, a checked shirt and a leather waistcoat, jeans, boots with spurs. A whip.

Oh, no.

A whip? This could not be happening to him. He groaned.

'Jolly good costume if you ask me!' beamed Spencer. 'What have you come as?'

'Gandalf de Whide, wid a bwoken dose, ob course...I don't think it's uh fancy dwess pardy, you iddyhut,' snarled Snape, looking as though he had just been forced to suck on a lime. (Oh, his nose - it was butchering every witty quip!)

Snape's sarcasm and bloody-nosed ill temper, though, didn't seem to put the smiling Sheriff off one bit. 'Oh well...never mind! I'm here to have a good time anyway! Now - up you get!' He bent over, pulled Snape to his feet before grabbing him playfully round the neck with one arm, and rubbing his knuckles boisterously in the greasy hair. 'Lets go, Sev, I'm dying for some cheesy nibbles!'

Before he could even try to protest, Snape had been dragged up on the Potters' doorstep with a sharp yelp. Then he heard the doorbell ring out. It was one of those awful musical ones, charmed by Lily, no doubt. Once he could recover his balance he began to struggle. But Sharpe still played as a beater in Quidditch, and had very strong arms. More than a match for a guy who saw weighing out potion ingredients as all the exercise he needed.

'Get ob me, you clod!' Snape roared.

'Easy there, pardner, unless you want me to try out the handcuffs on yer!'

Snape snarled. He would reach his wand. Preferably before he was completely smothered. He stretched his fingers a little further toward his pocket. Nearly there.

Snape heard two rasping clicks.

'Ah, ah! Don't say I didn't warn you Sev!' beamed Sharpe. 'That's what I love about all you Slytherin boys. How do you lot manage to always be so damn sexy, sneaky and slimy all at once! Now come here!'

Snape flushed. The ignominy of it. The absolute...OOF!

Snape was winded. He gave up struggling, and let his arms and legs hang limply. Not only was he on Potter's doorstep, but he also had his arms handcuffed behind his back, slung over a Ravenclaw's muscled shoulder like a sack of spuds. It could not get much worse.

'Ohh! James darling, look who it is!'

Snape scowled half-heartedly into the back of Spencer's waistcoat. Maybe it could...

'Howdy pardners! Sheriff Sharpe at yer service! '

Snape wished he would stop making a mockery of that accent.

'It's Spencer, isn't it?' Lily laughed again. 'Fancy yourself as a bit of a Clint Eastwood?'

Snape sneered to himself. Clint who?

'Not really, Lily,' Chuckled Spencer. 'I'd fancy a bit of Clint Eastwood, though...'

Lily squawked with laughter. 'Oooh, you really are terrible, Spence! Come in, come in!'

Snape could hear Lily tottering off down the hallway. Spencer turned and Severus was swung around, and found himself staring at a pair of size ten men's shoes.

'So, who's your convict friend, Sheriff?' slurred the voice of James Potter.

Snape tensed. By the sound of it Potter was already too intoxicated to tie his laces, let alone cast hexes. Maybe he would be safe. He had managed to get in the Potters' house. So much for subtlety, (damn the pansies,) but he was in. Now all he had to do was talk to Lily...

Objective two: Speak to Lily

Spencer chuckled. 'It's only little Sev from our year. I found the poor chap lying outside with a broken nose.'

'Imb dot liddl,' mumbled Snape.

'Oh, Merlin's arse, no... The word Slytherin never meant anything to you, did it Sharpe?' groaned James.

The Ravenclaw frowned. 'You Gryffindors! Always so warlike! Honestly if everyone had spent less time fighting and more time having fun, imagine what Hogwarts would have been like!'

'Did someone say Slytherin?' growled another voice.

Snape screwed his eyes shut. Black. What a carnival this was turning out to be...

'Well, surprise, surprise...' whispered Black.

Spencer tutted. 'Goodness me, Sirius, leave the poor chap alone - he's got a broken nose!'

'Then he won't mind a couple of broken legs to take the pain away from it,' Black snarled.

'Sirius!'

For the first time in years Snape actually felt grateful toward the Ravenclaw. But it was probably because he was so ridiculously outnumbered by Gryffindors, and handcuffed to boot.

'What's going on?' a gentle voice asked.

The werewolf now...

Snape shuddered as he recalled those glowing yellow eyes from the Shrieking Shack. A mad, snarling, bloodthirsty shadow advancing on him in the gloom. He had stupidly stood transfixed with horror until Potter had appeared, throwing a stunning spell at the creature before stunning and dragging him by the collar all the way back up to the willow. Hearing that thing's frenzied howls and cries echoing up the passage way...

How could that dark creature also be this soppy pacifist? A real Jekyll and Hyde? The bloke really, really creeped him out. And the awful nightmares he'd had after he'd read that Muggle story didn't help...

'Sirius, what's going on?' the voice repeated, as impossibly calm as ever.

'Snivellus, is going on.'

Snape gritted his teeth as he heard the very cream of the Gryffindor's wit. All because the miserable Marauders just had to find out who'd shut themselves in a Hogwarts Express toilet cubicle, to cry all the way home at the end of their first year! He could guess at the sort of look Black was giving him, and was quite happy staring at brown leather.

'Severus,' corrected Spencer. 'And he's here as my honorary convict, Sirius.'

'But it's not even fancy dress! James - say something will you!' huffed Black.

James squinted at his friend. It was all going rather blurry, as his left eye seemed reluctant to focus. 'What? Err...no fights. No fighting. Anti hex spell - you know. Everyone's...uh...here, to have good time.' James was slurring worse than ever. 'Bloody Merlin...Sirrus, Seer, Serious...uh, mate, when...what eksackly did...you, put...put in that last...cocktail?'

Snape raised an eyebrow and almost smiled. Anti hex spell? A house full of drunken Gryffindors who couldn't hex him?

Then he scowled. A house full of drunken Gryffindors he couldn't hex...

'Led be down Sharbe,' Snape muttered. 'Blease.'

'Hup! There you go!' Spencer bent over and Snape's legs found the floor. He backed up into a shadowy corner to survey the people who were staring at him.

'Bloody Hell! Who did that to your face?' Lupin stared at Severus in shock. His eyes travelled suspiciously to Sirius.

'Don't look at me Moony, looks like someone beat me to it!' he snarled.

'Severus!?' A woman's voice shrilled out down the hall. Snape flinched. People were coming out the kitchen especially to stare - at him. He could hear the whispers and the mutterings.

'Severus? Severus Snape? That weedy Slyth greaseball who looks like a creature of the night? Lily actually invited him?'

Lily tottered over to him, her eyes wide with surprise. 'Where have you been these past years you stroppy sod? Everyone thought you were dead! And how did you get in this state?'

Snape raised an eyebrow. Subconsciously he rubbed his hand over his left arm. Ha, wouldn't they just die to know?

'I'b been busy,' he sneered. 'Bud neber mind be. I hab sombding imbordant do ask du.'

Lily stifled a giggle. 'Oh yes? Not talking like that you won't!' She took out her wand, and moved closer to Snape.

He gulped. She was going to do what she had done in the library after she had slapped him! He felt faint.

The tip of her wand touched his nose. 'Sans lesionis.'

An odd tingling sensation followed the glow of soft blue light. He could breathe! Once again, Lily had healed his nose. But this time there was a crowd, and it was staring curiously at him. He could feel his ears burning; this was intolerable!

'No thanks to you Lily Potter, for you broke it in the first place by slamming your front door in my face!' he snapped, scowling at her.

Lily raised her eyebrows, and tried her best to hide a smile. 'Oh, I thought I heard something go crunch. I thought it was only a snail caught in the door,' she remarked innocently.

Sirius snorted. 'Well it was something, slimy.'

Behind Sirius came a familiar titter. It was the Black-Potter fanclub: Pettigrew.

Snape snarled and tried to wrestle with the handcuffs. It was hopeless, of course. The crowed giggled. Lily held her hand up to her mouth, and pretended to cough.

'Spencer - get me out of these fucking things!' he hissed eventually.

Black leered. 'Ooh, so you let Sheriff Spencer handcuff you? That's interesting...roleplay... What did we miss?'

Pettigrew's eyes lit up. 'Kinky!' he giggled.

'Nothing, Black. But I was...working on it,' smiled Spencer suggestively.

Snape made a bee-line for the Ravenclaw. 'H-how dare you!' Snape glared up into the Ravenclaw's twinkling eyes, before staring angrily round at them all. Just because he'd never been interested in dating at school they all assumed that he was...

Spencer frowned. 'Hey! Are you suggesting that there's something wrong with me?' He loomed over Snape, who swallowed nervously. He really was very tall. Toned, and muscular. And tall.

'N-no, Spencer. Not at all!' Yes Spencer. You are completely and utterly stark raving, mad. You snatched my potions record from me, you arsewipe. And now thanks to you everyone thinks I am gay and that we are an item... 'Please take the cuffs off.'

Spencer sighed. 'Turn around then, Severus.'

Snape did, before he realised the implications of it. He blushed heavily as Spencer's body bent over his. Snape swallowed as he felt the man's warm breath tickling his neck. The cuffs clicked open, and the horrified Slytherin leapt back like a scalded cat.

'Well I'll be buggered...I believe you owe me a galleon, Remus,' sniggered Black.

'For what?' frowned Lupin.

'For that bet in year six, about whether Snivellus was, you know, batting - for the other side...'

Snape glowered, but didn't dare say anything. Rather Black's lame verbal insults, than getting physically threatened by an offended gay Quidditch player. After all, he was certain he wasn't gay himself. He did remember fancying a couple of girls at school...

James looked at the confused expression twisting Snape's face, and started to laugh. But he ended up groaning as his vision lurched in front of him. 'Uuuh, Seery - us, I'm not fuh-eeling...too brill.'

Snape saw that James Potter was swaying, and looking really, really green. He had a phial of pep-up potion in his pocket. But he certainly wasn't going to offer him any.

Sirius scowled. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to add that much blackcurrant juice to firewhiskey. Then set it alight. Then drink it through a straw in one go...

'You only had a couple of shots, Prongs, you lightweight!' he jested.

James went to wave his hand dismissively, but ended up clapping it to his mouth. He needed to get to the nearest ceramic...something. Immediately. He lurched up the stairs.

The partygoers grimaced at the sound of puke hitting toilet bowl. Snape sniggered. Maybe parties were more fun than he had thought.

'I bet I could do better than him, Black,' he sneered suddenly.

Black was going to fire a retort back at Snape. But something stopped at him. Instead he peered curiously at him before smirking. 'You really think so, Sniv?'

'Yes Black, I do,' he smirked back coolly. What insane state of mind was persuading him that it was a good idea to drink something that had a powerful wizard like Potter out in two shots?

'You'd have to be raving mad to go near his mixtures! Shame on you!' Lily snapped at Snape. And getting angry with Snape, of course, was the worst thing she could do.

The Slytherin felt his stomach coil over with pleasure. What insane state of mind indeed...

Snape stalked stiffly across to Black, and drew himself up as tall as he could. 'And I reckon I can beat you, too, Black, if you dare to accept the challenge,' he said smartly. 'I'll have the same as Potter, if you please.'