Prongsfoot

He shows up at their doorstep, and Mrs. Weasley takes one look at him before enveloping him in a hug and telling him, "You can stay as long as you need, Harry dear." 

He writes to Sirius as soon as he's set up in Ron's room. His best mate asked what was wrong, of course, but Harry wants to try and get answers from Sirius before he tells Ron anything. His letter is short and to the point.

Sirius, I found my birth certificate. Can we talk? I'm staying at the Burrow, rooming with Ron. Love, Harry

After Hedwig flies off with the note, it occurs to Harry that he should've talked to Mrs. Weasley about Sirius coming over. He is a wanted man, after all. She seems to know the situation-- with Sirius, that is-- because she pats his shoulder and tells him that of course it's fine. She really is too nice to him, and he appreciates it. He needs to think of something nice to do for her before the summer's out.

*

Sirius arrives, looking better than he did last time Harry saw him. His smile is a mix of sheepish and hopeful. Harry barrels into him, hugging him so tight he hears Sirius wheeze. 

"I missed you too," Sirius whispers. 

"C'mon, let's go up to Ron's room. A bit more private than here," Harry says. The Weasley's are good people and he loves every one of them, but there are at least three people looking at Harry and his father right now, and he wants to get away from any prying eyes while he learns about his family. 

Ron's room is cramped, especially with the extra bed for Harry in it, but Sirius doesn't look the least bit bothered. Harry sits on his bed, and Sirius sits across from him on Ron's. 

"So." Sirius swallows thickly. "You know." 

"Yeah. Bit of a shock, I'm sure you can imagine." 

He smiles weakly. 

"How did- I mean, everyone thinks Lily's my mum. How did that happen? And I've seen photos of their wedding. Did he cheat on her with you?" 

"Your parents had a complicated relationship," Sirius says slowly. 

"But Lily's not my parent. You are." 

Sirius's mouth twists, like he's tasted something sour. "Right. You... what you need to understand Harry is that James was a good person. The best. But it was war, and emotions ran high. You've been through a lot in your life, but you can't imagine what it was like back then." 

"So he did cheat on her," Harry says, stomach twisting into a hard knot. He wanted to believe people when they said his dad was a good man, and even now, Sirius is saying it, but it isn't true. 

Sirius's shoulder hunch. "Yeah," he says tonelessly. "That's one way of looking at it." 

"They were married, but you had me, not her. What other way is there to look at it?" 

"That me and James were together first and technically he was cheating on me with Lily," Sirius says with a crooked smile that just looks sad. 

Harry blinks at him. "That's more depressing." He puts his head in his hands and shakes his head a little, trying to clear it out. Unsurprisingly it does nothing. "So you and my dad were in love but you couldn't be together so he pretended to be in love with my mother and you were all miserable." 

"I wouldn't say miserable," Sirius hedges. "We had an understanding." 

"An understanding," Harry replies flatly. 

"What do you want me to say, Harry? It wasn't easy, but all three of us loved you more than anything in the world." 

"So I'm a loved bastard. Great." 

Sirius looks so impossibly sad, like he's about to start crying right there on Ron's bed. 

Harry sighs and rubs at his eyes under his glasses. "Sorry." He didn't set out to make Sirius sad, he just wanted answers. "Can you... tell me how it happened? You and my dad?" Maybe once he hears that, it won't sound so bleak. 

"We were always close. One day we just fell into being more and never looked back." 

"That almost sounds romantic," Harry says, smiling weakly. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, pup." 

"I want you to say that my mum-- Lily, I mean-- knew about the two of you and was okay with it," he says, because it's the truth, that's what he wants to hear, it's the only way he'll feel better about this whole thing. 

"Of course she knew. It was impossible to be around the two of us and not know. Everyone knew." 

"If everyone knew, then why did her and my dad get married?" 

Sirius smiles crookedly. "It was the seventies." 

"And you getting pregnant-- is that something all wizards can do?" 

"No, no. We er." Sirius rubs at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "We were fooling around with some magic, and, well, you happened. Didn't know what was going on for months, then all of a sudden I'm gaining weight. You should've see the look on the medi-witch's face after that appointment. Lily agreed to cover for me, and then they had to go in hiding and... you know the rest." 

"So you and Dad were in love." 

Sirius swallows thickly. "Very much so." 

"But he still married Lily." 

"Yes." Sirius looks unbearably sad about it. He hasn't looked happy for the entire conversation, but he's sadder than before.

"Why did she agree to that?" 

"I don't have a simple answer for you, Haz. We were friends, James's parents were dying and they wanted to see him married, I couldn't marry him, this is how it all sorted out." Sirius sighs deeply, looking even more world-weary. 

Harry almost feels bad for asking, but he needed answers. He's not sure he's happy with what he got. "It sounds miserable." 

"It wasn't, at the time. We managed with the hand we were dealt." 

"But you didn't get to marry him. And he didn't love Lily. It sounds like you all ended up sad." 

"It's sad because they're dead, not because we couldn't stand our lives," Sirius argues. "I know it sounds to you like everything was terrible, but it wasn't like that when we were living it. We were as happy as we could be, at the time." 

Harry is about to disagree with him, but he stops and takes a look at Sirius. A real look at him. He's sad, yes, but there's a sort of desperation to his eyes, trying to make Harry understand that there were happy times, that they weren't all miserable for their entire lives. He bites his lip and shifts his weight, trying to readjust. "Can you... tell me about it? Being pregnant with me? Just- I dunno, some of the good times?" 

Sirius smiles, looking for the first time like there's an ounce of happiness in him. "Sure."

*

Sirius all-but waddles down the stairs, one hand on his protruding stomach, the other against the wall for balance. He feels like the Giant Squid, washed up on the shore and trying to heave itself back into the water. 

"Morning, Sirius," Lily calls from the kitchen. 

"Am I really that noisy?" he asks, grimacing. 

"Afraid so, love. James is out to the store to get more chocolates for you. He should be back any minute." 

Sirius nods, easing carefully down into a chair around the table. 

Lily immediately slides him a tea-- herbal, because he can't have caffeine-- and he takes it gratefully. The sunlight coming in through the window catches on her wedding ring, but it doesn't make Sirius's chest ache the way it used to. "How'd you sleep?" 

"Like shite. I think I kept James up all night with my walking back and forth to the loo. And then to the kitchen to grab a snack, because I was hungry from being up so long, hence all the chocolates being gone." He takes a sip of tea and makes a face. Sugar. It desperately needs sugar. He used to be able to take his tea just like this, but no, with the pregnancy, it's like his appetite has had a complete overhaul. He fixes his tea and rubs a hand over his face. "Sorry I'm complaining so much. I'm just so bloody uncomfortable." 

"You never need to apologize, Sirius," Lily says with a kind smile. She's nice. She's always so sodding nice. There was a time when Sirius wished he could hate her, but he's glad they ended up friends. 

The front door opens and closes softly. James's footsteps are unnaturally muted against the floor. He comes into the kitchen, then blinks in surprise at seeing Sirius up. "Hullo, love." He sets down the bag and rounds the table to give Sirius a kiss hello. He tries to pull away after a second, but Sirius fists a hand in the front of his robes to keep him there a minute longer. He's still in the horny part of this pregnancy-- something his doctor assures him is perfectly normal for women, and therefore is nothing to worry about. "What're you doing up so early? I thought you were going to have a lie-in after last night." 

"Couldn't sleep," is all Sirius is willing to say on the matter. Despite Lily's assurances that he can complain as much as he wants to, he doesn't actually like bitching 24/7. His back aches, his chest is sore, and the bed feels empty without James, and Sirius has never liked sleeping alone. The baby pushes against the outside of his stomach. "Baby's kicking. You want to feel?" 

James, as always, says yes. 

Sirius takes his hand and guides it down to the right part of his stomach. A look of wonder steals across James's face, as it does every time he feels the baby kick. Then he looks at Sirius, utterly infatuated and happy. 

"Feel free to take a private moment, you two," Lily says. 

James tilts his head towards the stairs-- an unspoken 'you want to?'. 

Peter snorts. “And humble.”

“I mean it,” James says, spinning around, hands outstretched. “Lily and I—we’re good now. We work together, I make her laugh, and she even made me tea last week.”

“She made everyone tea,” Remus mutters.

“Still, she asked you all how you took your tea but didn’t ask me, which means she noticed how I like it and remembered. Surely that means something.”

Peter hums noncommittally. “Maybe that just means she spends a lot of her time around you now that you have to work together?”

Before James can respond, the door swings open as Sirius returns from a quick run to the kitchens, his tie loose around his neck and arms full of snacks. He pauses when he sees James, eyes skimming over him slowly, top to bottom and then back up again.

“Well, look at you,” he says, whistling low. “Someone’s trying to charm the knickers off our Head Girl.”

James tosses him a wink. “That’s the idea.”

Sirius drops the snacks onto his bed, strolls up behind him, takes one long look at James’ reflection, and then, without preamble, squeezes his arse.

“Lily would have to be an absolute fool not to want a piece of this,” he says, grinning.

Peter makes a strangled sound. “Merlin.”

Remus summons a pillow and aims it at them with startling precision. Sirius ducks. James just laughs.

“Honestly, if Lily rejects me, at least I’ll have you,” he says, leaning into Sirius’ side with easy familiarity.

“You always will,” Sirius murmurs, eyes bright.

James hesitates. “You don’t think she’ll reject me?”

Sirius tilts his head, studying him for a moment—just a second too long—and says, “Nah. No one would say no to you.”

That’s good enough for James.

~~~

The meeting with Dumbledore and McGonagall unfolds in the usual fashion—patrol schedules, a few mentions of student drama, and discussions about the holidays. It’s uneventful in the grand scheme, but James finds himself hyperaware of Lily beside him: the small quirk of her lips when Dumbledore goes off-topic, the way she taps her quill when she’s thinking. He’s watching her and thinking, I could really do this—us. Properly.

They walk out of the office together, their shoulders brushing. Lily is saying something about the next Hogsmeade weekend but James isn’t listening. His heart is hammering in his chest.

“Lily?”

She pauses mid-sentence. “Yeah?”

“We’re good friends, right?”

Her eyes narrow in mock suspicion. “Where is this going?”

“I just mean, we get along. We work well together. We like spending time with each other.”

She stops walking, and so does he. They’re alone in the corridor, the torches flickering low.

“Yes,” she says slowly, eyes searching his. “We do.”

“So would you maybe… I don’t know, consider going out with me? Like, on a date?”

There’s a moment of stillness, like the air around them is waiting too.

Then—

“James,” Lily says softly, with the kind of gentle patience usually reserved for a young child. “I love you, truly. But I can’t date you.”

He blinks. “Why not? We get along so well—”

“Yes,” she says, cutting in kindly. “But you’re in love with Sirius.”

James stares, bewildered at the shift in their conversation. “I am?”

Lily gives him a look—a fond, tired, I-can’t-believe-I-have-to-do-this look.

“Darling,” she says. “You scan every room you enter until you find him. You literally light up when he talks to you. When you’re overwhelmed, he’s the only person you want to be with.”

James opens his mouth to protest. She lifts a finger.

“You need to be around him. You’re never apart for long. Every girl you’ve tried dating—things unravel the moment they start pulling your attention away from him. And you’re okay with that, because you’d rather be with Sirius than anyone else.”

“I like being with you, too,” James insists, a little defensively.

She nods. “But it’s not the same. You and Sirius… you orbit each other. You hold hands without thinking. You fall asleep tangled together. You kissed him in front of everyone just last week.”

“That was for a dare!”

“You kiss him even without anyone daring you,” Lily says flatly.

“That was—okay, fine,” James mutters.

“You’re basically dating already,” she continues, smiling. “You just haven’t caught up to it yet.”

They walk in silence after that, James’s mind running faster than his feet. Every moment, every shared glance, every late-night talk—it all replays with startling clarity, sharp as a spell.

They walk the rest of the way in silence. James’ head is spinning. He replays the last six years in his mind like a montage. 

Sirius laughing beside him on the train, loose strands of hair escaping his bun. 

Sirius with chocolate smudged on his face, complaining about unfair exams. 

Sirius asleep in the common room with his head on James’ shoulder. 

Sirius reading aloud to him when he was sick, running gentle fingers through his hair. 

Sirius pressing a hand to his knee under the table, linking their pinkies together. 

Sirius drunk on firewhisky, grinning at him like he hung the stars.

James stops dead in his tracks just outside the portrait hole.

“I think,” he begins, voice quiet. “I think I’m in love with him.”

Lily grins, triumphant. “You don’t say.”

“I have to tell him.”

“Wait, now?” she asks, alarmed. “Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, plan what you’re going to do?”

James glances at her, already taking a step into the Gryffindor tower. “My sweet Lils, when have I ever planned first and acted second?”

And with that, he’s gone.

~~~

The common room is warm and golden with firelight and the noise of students talking amongst themselves after dinner. James barely registers the chatter. His eyes immediately find Sirius, as they always do, who’s draped dramatically across an armchair, legs over one arm, head tilted back mid-laugh at something Marlene’s just said. The light catches the curve of his cheekbone, the slant of his smile. James’ heart does something strange in his chest.

How had he not noticed? How had he ever missed that Sirius Black is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen?

And more than that—Sirius is home. The one constant in a world that sometimes goes too fast.

James crosses the room quickly, pulse racing.

“Sirius,” he says, voice steady despite himself.

Sirius looks up, opens his mouth to greet him, but James doesn’t waste any time. He reaches out, grabs the front of Sirius’ jumper, and pulls him upright.

And then he kisses him.

Gasps ripple through the room, but James hears nothing past the rush in his ears. Sirius is still, and then he’s kissing him back, hands sliding to his waist like they’ve done it a thousand times. When they break apart, Sirius is blinking fast.

“What in Merlin’s name happened with Lily?” he asks, dazed and a little breathless.

“I just realised that I love you,” James says, voice rough. “Not in the casual best mate kind of way. Not like a brother. I’m in love with you. I want to grow old with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and complain about how you steal the blankets. I think I want to marry you someday.”

Sirius’ eyes are wide and dark. “You—you figured out that you love me, what, five minutes ago? And you immediately needed to tell me?”

James shrugs. “I think some part of me always knew, it just took me time to really figure it out.”

Sirius’ lips part. “Oh,” he says softly.

James is about to say more, but Sirius doesn’t let him.

He tugs James forward and kisses him again, hard and certain, before grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the staircase.

They don’t make it more than three steps before Sirius stops, cups James’ face with both hands, and kisses him again. And again. Slower this time, like he’s trying to memorise the shape of the moment.

“You mean it?” he whispers against James’ lips.

James nods. “You know I do.”

And Sirius—wild, wonderful, perfect Sirius—laughs, giddy, and pulls him the rest of the way upstairs.

It’s always been him.

*

They have to learn to fight their own battles, James reminds himself. Peter and Remus won't have any chance of defending themselves outside of Hogwarts if James is always stepping in to save them-- or throw the first punch, either way, he needs to let them handle it. There's a war going on outside these doors, and if he coddles them too much, they're going to die. This isn't first year anymore. 

Peter whips out his wand and manages to get a few good spells off. He's come a long way since last year, James notices with pride. 

When he gets outnumbered, James steps in to help, and Peter shoots him a grateful smile. Of course James is going to help if he's outnumbered, that's just good sense. Besides, they'll all have each other's backs out there. It's a fine line he's walking, looking after them and trying to ensure they can look after themselves, but he thinks he's doing a decent job of it. The fight's a draw because Professor Flitwick comes across them-- detentions for all, no surprise-- but they held their own. 

James wraps a proud arm around Peter as they walk to the Hospital Wing. "You did good, Wormtail." 

Peter flushes. "Thanks, Prongs." 

*

James doesn't know how it happened, really. He heard a pair of Slytherins talking shit about Sirius, and the next thing he knows, he's got detention and Professor McGonagall is levitating the two students down to the Hospital Wing. James got the first curse off, so it's not like he was outnumbered. Though he'd like to think he'd have done alright even if he hadn't had the element of surprise. 

He stomps up to Gryffindor Tower and throws his bag on his bed before throwing himself onto Sirius's. Sirius isn't here yet. Wanker needed to go to the Owlery, so they were separated in the corridors, and, well, now James has detention. 

He has no idea what got into him. People talk shit about him and his friends all the time. Normally, James keeps a level head about it. Well. These days, that is. He was a little more hot tempered when he was younger, but he's more realistic now that he's older. Everyone likes to talk shit, it's one of the most popular pastimes here at Hogwarts, edging Quidditch out from the top spot. He's gotten good at tuning it out. 

So what was so special about this time? 

He groans, rolling over. His glasses poke into his face and he tosses them on Sirius's nightstand before shoving his face in Sirius's pillow. He gets a whiff of pure Sirius from it, and he inhales again, deeper this time. Mm, he loves how Sirius smells. There's something so intoxicating about it. James sniffs him all the time, when he thinks he can get away with it. And right now, all alone with Sirius's pillow, he can smell it as much as he wants. Which he does. It soothes him. 

He's not even mad about the detention by the time Sirius comes into the dormitory. He flops down next to James. "What're you moping about?" 

"I'm not moping," James says, and it's not even a lie. It was a lie when he first laid down, but after laying in Sirius's bed for a bit, he feels better. It's wonderful, he marvels, how Sirius can make him feel better even when he's not there. It just goes to show how talented Sirius is, that he can do that. 

"Uh-huh." Sirius digs his fingers into James's sides. 

James absolutely does not squeal. He doesn't. He's not a kid anymore, and only kids squeal when their best mate tickles them. He does, however, tickle Sirius back, and it's a battle then. One that only ends when they tumble onto the floor, laughing and breathless in a tangle of limbs. 

Merlin, but James loves Sirius. 

Oh. 

Oh bugger. 

Sirius's face is right there, and he's flushed and smiling and James continues to show a lack of self control tonight and leans up to kiss him. 

Their lips press together for only a moment, and Sirius rears back. "James?" he says softly. He's surprised yes, but James can read his emotions easily and he spots the hope in his eyes. 

James licks his lips, hoping Sirius will let him kiss him properly next time. And he really hopes that next time will be in the next few seconds. 

Sirius's gaze goes to his mouth in an instant, and James takes that as a sign to go ahead. 

He kisses Sirius, and yes, this time is much better because Sirius is kissing him back and it feels incredible. 

He has six months, which feels like a long time, but with all the civil unrest, he knows that every day is precious. 

It's time to get to work. 

*

"Your Highness," Sirius says as he enters the king's bedchambers. Then he has to stop and turn his back, because there are two men sharing his bed. "Might I suggest that you keep such exploits brief and out of the castle?" 

"You told me to be discreet," James argues. "It's hardly discreet to be caught in a whorehouse, isn't it? You should be glad, I'm taking your advice." 

Sirius wishes that this was his James and he could beat him over the head with the scroll in his hand until he shaped up. Sirius spent his entire first week trying to impress upon the king how dire his situation was. James insisted that everything was fine, and the unrest would blow over soon because that's what always happened in the past. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. "Thank you, Your Majesty, I appreciate it. Perhaps you might listen to my other advice and choose a wife?" 

"I don't like women." 

There were innumerable differences between Sirius's James and this King James. Superficial ones, like him not fancying women, paled in comparison to him simply not caring about his subjects. If Sirius wants his James back, he needs to find a way for this one to do his bloody job. 

"A wife is not for you to like, it's for you to have," Sirius says dryly. He leans out into the hallway and signals for the servants. "Get those men out of here," he tells them, and they nod obediently. 

The room is cleared and James begins to get dressed for the day while Sirius tries to find the right words to get through this idiot's thick skull that he's in danger of being murdered if he doesn't get married. 

"May I speak my mind?" Sirius asks, because he needs to be blunt in order for James to truly hear him-- this, at least, is the same across the dimensions. 

"I wasn't aware you did anything else," James says dryly. He gestures for Sirius to go ahead with his thoughts. 

"You need to marry, and the people need a royal wedding." 

"If I get married, then you'll be saying that I need an heir, and that horse will go nowhere." 

Sirius raises an eyebrow. "There were just three of you in here. Surely you can do the math on what will happen your wedding night to get things working." 

James wrinkles his nose. He finds the idea distasteful. Personally, Sirius finds the idea of James being ousted more distasteful, so he's not deterred. 

"It's not ideal, but you are the king. You have duties." 

James groans. Sirius would find it endearing if his life wasn't on the line. 

"My king," he says, voice going serious, "you need to be realistic. There is no clear line of succession, and there will be war if you die without an heir." 

"So I can name an heir from one of the nobles," James shrugs. 

"And have a war the instant you do." James glares at him, and Sirius knows that he's overstepped. He bites the inside of his cheek. "Apologies, Your Majesty. I merely mean to remind you that you cannot dodge this responsibility forever. The sooner you deal with it, the less you'll have to hear me harangue you about it." 

"You're dismissed," he says, eyes flinty. 

Sirius curses himself in his head. This James isn't his friend. He can't tell him there are threats to his rule because it comes across as a threat rather than a warning. Advisor Sirius didn't cultivate a close relationship with the king. Maybe, if he had, Sirius could say things like this and not be misunderstood. 

He needs to be more careful. If the king doesn't trust him, then James won't come back. He has to maintain focus. He can't let it slip, even for a moment, because if he does, then he loses James forever. 

*

The first time King James kisses Sirius, he's not in love with him. "You told me to find someone discreet," he says with a wicked grin. 

Sirius knows what James looks like in love. Merlin, does he know. He still wakes up in the morning, reaching for his lover who hasn't been there for years. This James is not in love with him. Right now, Sirius is handsome and convenient, that's all. 

He kisses James back. King James said it as an excuse, but Sirius is discreet. He's the best option out of anyone in this universe. Sirius would do anything for him. This James doesn't really know that. He thinks Sirius's devotion is the normal kind a subject would have for their king. 

Sirius kisses him and fucks him and holds him close, looking into hazel eyes that are exactly the same as the ones he loves, and it aches but it's good that it's happening. It feels good, and it makes James trust him more, the more they do it. 

Sirius knows what James looks like when he's falling in love, so he can tell the exact day James's feelings for him shift. 

It's been a month. There's been an assassination attempt that only failed because Sirius was going to the king's rooms later than the killer expected anyone to be out. It was a close call. Sirius cannot have this fail. He's poured too much into getting his James back; failure is not an option. 

They're laying in the king's bed, James looking at him with love in his eyes, and Sirius mourns that he has to say this. "You need to marry." 

"Then I'll marry you," James says, and he sounds so much like his James that he wants to cry. He grins at Sirius, as if he thinks this could actually happen. Men do not marry men in this universe, but James is the king and he thinks he has the power to do whatever he wants. "I trust you'll not turn me down." 

"You need to marry a woman, which I certainly am not." 

"No, you're far more fun than that," James replies, trailing a hand up Sirius's thigh. 

Sirius puts a hand on his chest, and his expression turns solemn. 

"I know." 

"I can be there with you," Sirius says. "On your wedding night. And as many times afterwards until you have an heir." 

"I know." 

Sirius's heart breaks a little, for this version of James. He isn't attracted to women but needs to sire an heir. If they were in any other situation, Sirius wouldn't force him-- he wouldn't even consider it. But they need this. The kingdom needs an alliance, the peasants need a royal wedding to celebrate, the council needs to know that he's taking his role seriously, and the vultures need to know that James will have children so he's not as easy pickings as they thought.

He says the only thing he can. "I love you." 

James smiles at him, eyes watery. "I know." 

"But you'll marry?" 

"I'll marry," he promises. He leans in and kisses Sirius, slow and sweet. 

James's preference for men is known. They shouldn't have a problem with his prospective wife misunderstanding the situation. 

*

They make an alliance with another kingdom, cemented with a marriage, and their neighbors calm their ideas of war. 

The bride they send is Lily, and Sirius wants to be happy to see her, but as much as this James isn't his James, this Lily is nothing like the Lily he knew. She has all the brains and wits but none of her kindness. She's pragmatic to a fault, cutthroat when it comes to James's enemies which are now a threat to her as well. He saw her order the death of a family for harboring a would-be assassin without blinking. He wishes the ritual would work for two, so he could pull her back from the veil of death and reunite Harry with both of his parents, but the ritual is one soul and one use so he can't come back for her. 

James's marriage to Lily is a good thing. The civil unrest quiets, the people placated, and Sirius wants to breathe easy, but he knows the struggle is far from over. There are still months left before the ritual is complete, and he can't risk James's life. 

*

"I merely think it strange, Your Highness," Advisor Pettigrew says to King James. "He pushed so hard for you to marry and had someone in mind for when you agreed." 

James's hands tighten to fists-- this does not go unnoticed. 

"The negotiation period was remarkably short for a wedding of this size. I would wager they had something in writing to prepare for it." 

"Sirius is very skilled at negotiating," James says. 

"He is indeed, Your Majesty." Pettigrew pauses deliberately. "It is only... have you not seen the way he looks at her when she enters a room?" 

"He looks at her like she is his queen, nothing more," James says, but he's having his doubts. Sirius's eyes do seem unnaturally attracted to her. When the three of them are in bed together, their hands never stray to each other, but how deliberate a motion is it? Are they sneaking around behind his back and pretending to be strangers to his face? 

"As you say, Your Majesty," Pettigrew says, then moves on to other business, but James's mind lingers on the subject, teasing and enlarging it. 

*

Then the rumors start. Everyone is careful not to let them reach Sirius's ears, but they reach the King's. Whispers that the Black family stands to gain quite a bit should the monarchy fall. 

James kicks Sirius out of his bed. Lily is not yet pregnant. He stops listening to the counsel of his wife and once most trusted advisor. He orders a nobleman to death for treason with no evidence. The walls are crumbling around him, and no matter how much Sirius tries, he can't keep everything together when James shuts him out. 

They're on month five. Victory has never felt so far away. James doesn't trust him, and it feels like he could be overthrown at any moment. Sirius can feel this chance slipping through his fingers, and he's desperate. 

He's so bloody desperate and everything's falling apart, so he does the only thing he knows how: goes to James. Not James the king, not James who he advises. James who he loves. The James he hopes still loves him in return. 

"I request to speak with the king," Sirius tells the guards at the door. 

"His Highness wishes to speak with no one." 

Sirius swallows thickly and fights back frustrated tears. "I would like to hear that from his mouth directly." He pushes past the guards, and they don't try too hard to stop him. He slams the bar over the door to lock it and turns to face James. 

James is wary of him, and he can't stop himself from crying. 

"What did I do wrong?" he asks, falling to his knees. "Why don't you love me anymore?" It feels like losing his James all over again, when Lily got pregnant so they got married, leaving Sirius with nothing but regret. His heart has been ripped out of his chest, and he's bleeding out, and James is the only one that can save him. How did he lose King James? What misstep did he make? What is so unlovable about him that he's going to lose James again? 

He can't see James through his tears, can't hear his nearing footsteps through his sobs that scrape his throat raw. He doesn't know that James is coming to comfort him until he feels the arms around him. 

"I love you, James," he says desperately, clawing at him to bring him closer. "Why can't that be enough for you? Why am I never enough for you?" 

"You've always been enough for me, Sirius," James says, but it has to be a lie, because he's pushed Sirius away, pushed him so far away that he'll die for it. He kisses the top of Sirius's head, then tilts his face to press quick, frantic kisses to his mouth. "I love you. I love you, and only you," he says between kisses. "I want to be the only one you love in return." 

"You have my heart, you always have," he promises. "I'll save you. Let me save you, please James." 

James doesn't know what he means, but he assures him all the same. 

*

They make it back. 

Sirius reappears in Hogwarts, where he performed the ritual, still clad in the robes he was wearing at the time, and James is there with him. 

James looks up at him, and it's him. It's his James, the James that went to Hogwarts with him and named him godfather and loved him so hard everything else paled in comparison. "Sirius," he breathes, and it has the full weight of their time together behind it before he's hugging him so tight it hurts but he can't let go. When he finally lets go, it's to kiss Sirius, to kiss him again and again until their lips hurt and then keep going. "I can't believe you did that for me," he cries. 

Sirius has to be mindful of his glasses as he reaches up to wipe those tears away. "What do you mean?" 

"I remember that- the other universe, dimension, whatever you want to call it. Everything you did for me there." James kisses him again, hard, and he doesn't have to think of how to reply. "Thank you," he breathes between kisses, "thank you, I love you. Sirius, Sirius, I love you." 

“You were huge with wild fur and eyes that could look into your soul. You were best friends with a stag and a wolf.” He paused, then continued, voice quieter. “You were laughing, though. You don’t do that much anymore.”

Sirius flipped the page.

The next sketch wasn’t better. Same vines. More warmth. The suggestion of shoulders, of strong hands holding a coffee cup.

Regulus tapped his pencil against the floor thoughtfully. “You’ve been doing those weird trees again.”

“They’re not weird.”

“They have dimples.”

Sirius glared at him. “They have texture.”

“And the vines keep forming smiles. You're drawing plants that flirt with you.”

Sirius shut the sketchbook like it had misbehaved.

Outside, pale light shifted through the front window of the shop. Across the street, the new café replacing the old crystal shop was finally showing signs of life. Mint-green paint. String lights. A sandwich board that still had chalk smudges but no words.

Sirius had caught glimpses of the man setting it all up—shoulders broad beneath an oversized cardigan, thick-rimmed glasses always slipping down his nose, curls tied back messily like he’d run out of patience in trying to tame them. And a toddler, always nearby, sticky and smiling and in possession of at least two different stuffed animals.

They hadn’t spoken. Sirius wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

Regulus set down his pencil. “Remus says that’s his best friend from college. James. Moved here with his kid after graduating culinary school and the cooking show he starred in ended.”

Sirius hummed, noncommittal. “That’s awfully domestic.”

Regulus gave him a look. “Don’t sound too excited,” he said dryly.

The sound of a sink shutting off and soft metal trays clattering filtered in from the hallway. A few seconds later, Marlene stepped into the room, throwing away her gloves from her last appointment.

“I saw the little boy try to bite a windchime,” she said casually, dropping into the armchair across from Sirius with her sandwich. “Then the café guy came out after him, talking to him like they were best friends.”

Sirius’ pulse did something inconvenient.

Marlene’s eyes twinkled knowingly. “He’s cute. You’ll hate him.”

“I don’t hate cute people.”

“You hate people who make you feel things.”

Regulus folded his arms. “He hasn’t stopped sketching weird trees for three days.”

“Maybe I just like trees,” Sirius muttered.

But even as he said it, he knew the sketch was already changing again—curving into something softer, something warmer. Not vines this time, but a line of a shoulder. A sloping jaw. Something that looked a little too much like arms, strong and sun-kissed.

He shut the page quickly, like it had said too much.

And then, as if summoned by the quiet, the bell at the front of the shop jingled, followed by the sound of small feet. A toddler rounded the corner, grinning like a maniac and sticky with jam. He wore a shirt that said I RUN THIS TOWN and carried a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and half a biscuit in the other.

“Hi!” he chirped.

“Hi?” Sirius said, baffled.

Behind him, a voice called, “Harry! You can’t just wander by yourself into stores—”

A man entered, apologetic and breathless. “Oh god. Sorry. We’re moving in across the street and I turned around for two seconds and he was gone.”

Sirius should’ve said something biting. Or charming. Or even coherent. Instead, his brain stalled somewhere between hazel eyes and you look like you give good hugs.

Marlene, unbothered, knelt down to Harry’s level. “Did you break in?”

Harry shook his head, beaming up at her. “No. I push the door. It go ding!” He mimicked the sound with wide eyes. “And then I walk and say hi!”

Regulus tilted his head. “Fair enough.”

James gave a sheepish laugh. “I’m James. That’s Harry. He usually listens. Emphasis on usually.”

“I bring my din-o-saur,” Harry said helpfully, holding up his toy. “His name is Lily.”

Marlene tilted her head. “That’s a girl’s name.”

“Nuh-uh!” Harry said. “I love my mummy and I love my din-o-saur. My mummy is Lily so my din-o-saur is Lily.”

“Fair enough,” Marlene acquiesced. Something twisted in Sirius’ chest, a gaping hole of disappointment. 

James leaned down and scooped Harry up with ease. “Sorry again,” he said. “Harry’s mum—Lily—and I recently divorced, and looking after Harry myself is still new to me so, well. We’re a bit chaotic.”

Oh. 

“You’ll fit right in,” Sirius said before he could stop himself.

Their eyes caught, a pause stretching soft and strange between them.

“I’m Sirius,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

James smiled—with dimples, damn him—and shifted Harry higher on his hip. “Nice to meet you, Sirius.”

Sirius’ fingers itched for a pencil he didn’t have. Something to do with his hands while his brain caught up.

Once James left, Marlene and Regulus turned to him, wearing identical expressions.

“What?” Sirius asked. 

Marlene let out a low whistle. “I knew it. You’re going to fall in love with him.”

“I thought you said I’d hate him?” 

“Aha!” she crowed. “I only said you hate cute guys in general. So you admit he’s cute?”

“You’re putting words into my mouth.”

“Bet you wish you had something else in your mouth?” Regulus quipped, snickering. 

But even as Sirius rolled his eyes in response, his gaze drifted to the window. Across the street, he could see James wrestling with an espresso machine. Harry appeared to be singing behind him, banging on the counter with a wooden spoon. 

Maybe Marlene had a point. 

~~~

Lunch break meant the machines had finally gone quiet and they could take a break from the busy morning schedule. Sirius was grateful for their customers and was proud of the reputation they had built over the months, but sometimes it would get exhausting to have so many back-to-back clients. 

He finished cleaning down his station, hands methodical, brain running off somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere across the street, if he was being honest with himself.

He could see the café through the window if he angled his head just right. Paper lanterns. The soft shadows of movement inside—warm, blurred.

The bell jingled.

“Hey,” Remus said, stepping inside, jolting Sirius out of his thoughts. He had that comfortable, wind-scuffed look he always wore around his lunch break, like he’d just walked out of a novel. Given that he was an editor at the publishing house a few blocks away, he probably had. “Is Regulus in the back?”

“He’s flirting with the inks,” Sirius said. Regulus had finished his last client about half an hour ago and had gone to rearrange inventory with the intensity of someone solving a murder. Sirius didn’t ask. Regulus and the ink cabinets had a complicated relationship.

“I am not,” Regulus insisted, summoned by Remus’ voice. He accepted a quick kiss. “It’s not my fault the ink cabinet has so many issues!”

“I’m sure the cabinet isn’t the only thing with issues, love,” Remus chided. 

Regulus smacked his arm. “Hey!”

Marlene snorted. Sirius allowed himself a small smile.

And then the bell jingled again.

This time it was James, stepping in with a tray of coffees in one hand and a slightly sticky toddler in the other. Harry was bouncing his dog toy under one arm, humming a little song to himself. James looked a bit windswept, a bit sheepish, and entirely too much like something Sirius hadn’t meant to want.

“Hi,” he said. “Sorry to barge in again. Harry saw Uncle Remus heading this way and insisted we come say hi.”

Harry waved his stuffed animal. “Woof.”

James gestured to the tray. “And, well—we’re opening in three days, so I’ve been testing drinks.”

Remus took his Earl Grey without question. “You’re enabling us.”

“That’s what I’m for,” James said with a wink. He quickly passed out the drinks. 

“Oh my god,” Regulus said, eyeing his caramel latte. “Remus, seriously?”

Remus just sipped his tea. “Babe, he was bound to figure out you don’t actually like coffee as black as your soul.”

Regulus grumbled but didn’t reject the drink.

Sirius took his drink cautiously, the cup warm in his hands. He took a sip before he could overthink it.

It was good.

Really good.

He blinked down at the cup. “What is this?”

“Dirty chai latte,” James explained. “Chai with espresso. A little spicy, a little bitter, and very satisfying. It was my mum’s recipe.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “And you thought it suited me?”

James grinned. Not cocky—just warm, like sunlight through kitchen curtains. “Complex flavor profile. A little bitter. And, well, if I’m being completely honest, spicy and hot.”

There was a beat of silence in which six distinct reactions happened at once:

Harry, who had been patiently waiting, frowned. “Where’s my hot choc-late?”

Marlene choked on her espresso and started cackling.

Remus exhaled a sigh so deep it seemed to leave his soul through his shoes.

Regulus, without missing a beat, nodded and said, “Called it.”

James looked utterly unbothered. In fact, he looked pleased.

And Sirius went very, very still. “You can’t just say things like that in front of your child.”

“I assure you,” James said, ruffling Harry’s curls, “he’s heard worse.”

“Only from Uncle Remus,” Harry added helpfully.

“I said bollocks once while parallel parking,” Remus muttered. “And you already had hot chocolate, you heathen child, when you stole mine.” 

They stayed like that for a little while, just talking. The easy rhythm of familiar people in the same room, cups in hands, shoulders relaxing. Harry showed off his dog plushie—he had changed its name to Sirius because he thought his earrings the first day they met were cool , which really shouldn’t have made Sirius as happy as it did. 

And just as the bell rang again—someone walking in for an appointment—James turned to go.

But before he left, he reached out, quick and quiet, and brushed his fingers against the inside of Sirius’ wrist where the tattoo of a constellation hid. Just a gentle pressure, thumb warm against his pulse.

He leaned in, just close enough, and said quietly, “I’ll see you soon.”

And then he was gone, leaving the door swinging behind him.

~~~

The park was quieter today.

Late afternoon light poured through the trees in long ribbons, golden enough to make anything look softer. Sirius sat on the same bench as he always did, sketchbook open on his lap, coffee cup empty beside him. The dirt path curved in a lazy loop past the fountain, and somewhere out of view, a kid was screaming joyfully at a goose.

He wasn’t drawing James.

He wasn’t.

He had been drawing Regulus’ dream from the other night, the one with the dog and the wolf and the stag. It had started as a dog. Or something dog-adjacent. Long lines, lean limbs, teeth just visible. Something wild but not threatening. Meant to be with others, but always somehow ending up alone.

But then the lines began to shift, smoothed out in places, curved in the edges. The shape of a shoulder, familiar and unintentional. The curl of hair, barely sketched, but there. An arm bent at the elbow. A mug resting in a hand he hadn’t meant to make look so strong.

Sirius scowled at the page.

The vines had returned, too—uninvited but persistent. They curled around the wrist now. Tangled in the collarbone. He’d started adding stars, faint ones, the kind you had to squint to see.

He set the pencil down and let his head fall back against the bench.

Three days until the café opened.

Three days until James was across the street full-time, making chai and stealing eye contact and saying things like “spicy and hot” like it was casual. Like Sirius wasn’t still thinking about it hours later.

“You’re going to fall in love with him,” Marlene had said.

He was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t wrong. 

And then, just when he thought the moment might pass quietly, a familiar voice called out across the grass: “Harry, don’t chase that one, it’s enormous!”

Sirius sat up.

James was jogging along the path, red-cheeked. Harry, further ahead, was running in the general direction of a very unbothered crow, laughing wildly.

The bird gave him a look of reproach and hopped out of range.

Sirius watched them head toward him, unsure whether to close the sketchbook or throw it in the fountain.

James spotted him and brightened. “Hey,” he called. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here.”

“I come here sometimes,” Sirius said. “When I’m trying not to commit arson.”

James laughed. “That’s a very specific hobby.” He watched as Harry veered past them, deep in pursuit of a second crow, then dropped onto the other end of the bench, glancing at the sketchbook.

“Working?”

Sirius hesitated. “Sort of.”

James didn’t push. Just sat there, legs stretched out, hair catching the light like he’d wandered out of some terrible romance novel. He didn’t look at Sirius when he asked, “Is that for someone?”

Sirius thought about lying. Then he thought about how tired he was of pretending he wasn’t already in too deep.

“Maybe,” he said.

James nodded slowly. “Well. Whoever it’s for, it’s beautiful.”

Sirius didn’t respond. His hand was too close to James’ knee. The air felt like it had stilled around them.

Across the path, Harry screamed, “I am the crow king!”

James groaned. “I’ve lost control of my child.”

Sirius smiled before he could stop himself. “I don’t think you ever had him under control.”

“Probably true.” James moved to stand, brushing dust off his jeans, but his eyes lingered on the sketchpad again. “Let me know if you want to put it on someone.”

Sirius hesitated.

And then, quietly: “It’s you.”

James turned back.

“What?”

“The drawing,” Sirius said, gaze still on the page. “It’s you. Not, like, intentionally at first. But it is.”

There was a pause. A long, slow beat of surprise folding into something warmer.

James stepped back toward the bench. “You drew me.”

Sirius gave him a look. “You sound surprised.”

“I just didn’t realise you saw me as so…” James leaned in slightly, tilting his head to peer at the sketch. “…pretty.”

Sirius groaned and flipped the sketchpad shut.

James shrugged. “I mean, you got the curls and everything.”

“Get over yourself.”

James sat again. Not quite touching, but closer. His hand brushed Sirius’ briefly.

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo,” he said casually, like it wasn’t everything Sirius had secretly wanted to hear. “Nothing big. Just—something.”

“What,” Sirius said, dry, “looking for any excuse to have my hands on you?”

James didn’t blink. “Not you, idiot. Marlene.”

Sirius froze.

And then James snorted. “I’m joking. God, your face.”

Sirius shoved him lightly with one shoulder. “You think that was funny? Here I was thinking, oh, shit, he never said he was into men, did he, and he was married to a woman up until very recently, so maybe he’s actually straight—”

“It was a little funny,” James said, smirking. “I’m bisexual, actually, and very, very interested in someone who’s decidedly not a woman—”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Sirius reached up, grabbed his face firmly with both hands, and kissed him.

It wasn’t careful. Not the kind you give someone to test the waters. It was the kind that had been circling for days, waiting just below the surface—restless, inevitable. It was soft at first, like a question, then fuller, like an answer neither of them had been ready to say out loud.

James inhaled sharply against his mouth and kissed him back like he’d been hoping for it. Like he’d been aching for it. One hand cupping Sirius’ jaw, the other curling against the back of his neck, pulling him in with quiet certainty.

And, fuck, if Sirius wasn’t gone for this man before, he certainly was now.

James kissed him like he meant it. Like he was too tired of holding still. Like his mouth already knew the shape of Sirius’. His hands found Sirius’ waist without hesitation, and he tilted into the kiss, breath catching just slightly, lips warm and sure.

When they broke apart, it was slow, like neither of them had entirely decided to stop. James’ eyes fluttered open, and his perfect, kiss-swollen lips were still parted like he might lean in again.

The park was still there. The sun still dappled the grass. Somewhere, Harry was still chasing crows.

Yet, Sirius felt like the world had tilted on its axis. Surely the sun was a little brighter, the chirping of the birds sweeter—

James cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said, voice a little rough. “That was—”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Any notes?”

James thought for a moment. “Just one.”

“Yeah?”

“I really, really want you to tattoo me.”

Sirius smiled, the kind that settled behind his ribs and stayed there. He curled his body around James, and his heart fluttered when James tucked him in closer to run his fingers through his hair. 

He was so, so lucky.

~~~

Breakfast at the shop before it opened for the day had become a kind of tradition in the days leading up to the café’s opening. It was a rotating spread: Marlene’s aggressively buttered toast, Regulus’ meticulously sliced fruit, and whatever pastry James brought over, always with flour on his sleeves and a smile that sent Sirius’ heart racing. It was nice, having everyone in the same space before they scattered—James off to wrangle last-minute logistics, Remus to his office to edit the manuscripts waiting at his desk, the shop humming with machines and ink and motion.

Today James had brought apricot croissants. The six of them were crowded around the front counter with their plates and coffee cups, elbows bumping, Harry in his special dinosaur chair that Regulus had impulsively purchased a few days ago. Sirius was in a rare mood, softened by good food, warm sunlight, and having James beside him, engaged in a passionate discussion with Remus.

Then James’ phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, winced. “Sorry. Need to grab this. Back in a sec.”

He stepped outside with the phone pressed to his ear, voice muffled behind the glass. Sirius watched him pace just out of earshot. He watched as James’ eyes lit up, the way his hands moved in the air as he talked excitedly with the other person on the line. 

Minutes later, a red car pulled up in front of the café.

It was small and a little dusty as if it had driven through early morning fog. The woman who stepped out had the kind of presence that made people look twice: sharp cheekbones, freckles, bright hair the same colour as her car pulled into a low twist. She barely had time to straighten up before Harry squealed from inside the shop and launched himself at the door.

“Mummy!”

She opened her arms just in time, catching him mid-run and swinging him up with practised ease. Her laugh rang clear across the street.

James reached them in three long strides. She kissed his cheeks, hugged him tightly, and for a moment they stood in that loose, familiar way that said history lived in their bones.

Sirius watched from the doorway, heart twisting in a way he didn’t love.

James looked over and waved Lily into the shop. “Come meet everyone, Lils!”

Harry jumped out of Lily’s arms and excitedly pulled her in. She stepped into the shop and looked around, green eyes bright and curious. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Lily. Sorry to barge in. I didn’t mean to interrupt breakfast.”

Sirius mumbled something polite. Regulus offered his most charming wave. Remus stood up to hug her, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

Marlene, returning from the bathroom, froze mid-step. Her eyes widened, landed on Lily, and stayed there.

Lily turned at the movement and gave her a little wave. “Hey.”

Marlene blinked. “Hi,” she said, barely audible. Her face turned the colour of strawberry jam.

Lily ducked her head, pink rising to her cheeks.

Interesting, Sirius thought.

James cleared his throat. “Lily’s taking Harry for the weekend to let me finish setting up without having to worry about him repotting the basil again."

“He only did it twice,” Lily said, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry looked up and grinned proudly, chubby cheeks forming dimples.

She stayed for a few hours while they wrapped up morning appointments. Helped Harry colour a dragon on a sticky note, giving it blue wings, oversized sunglasses, and naming it “Craig.” Leaned over James’ shoulder while he checked something on his tablet, offering unsolicited opinions on font choices and muffin pricing, pinching his cheeks when he groaned and rewrote half a sentence. She and Remus swapped stories like they’d never stopped talking, the kind of easy, familiar rhythm that came from years of friendship and too many late-night takeout runs. Even Regulus, usually allergic to small talk, slipped into conversation with her like it was effortless.

And Marlene—Marlene spoke to Lily like she wanted to memorise everything about her. Her new flat. The flowers in her earrings. How she liked to drink her coffee when it wasn’t too hot but before it went cold. But when Lily leaned close to show her a photo of Harry on her phone, her eyes did that wide, startled thing Sirius recognised in himself far too well.

“Cute, right?” Lily asked.

Marlene cleared her throat. “Yeah. Harry’s adorable.”

Lily looked at her, soft and unbothered, and Marlene smiled back like she hadn’t momentarily forgotten how to function.

Sirius, from the other side of the room where he was inking a blooming daffodil onto a client’s arm, watched the whole thing unfold.

He and James still hadn’t talked about the kiss. Not really. And now, surrounded by warmth and people and history he wasn’t part of, Sirius couldn’t tell if he was standing at the edge of something or being quietly left behind. James hadn’t pulled away. But he hadn’t reached for him again, either. And Sirius didn’t know how to ask if the moment meant anything without sounding like he needed the answer too badly.

At lunch, they all crammed into the back room and shared sandwiches and leftover croissants. Lily sat beside Marlene again, their knees bumping lightly under the table, and Marlene still looked nervous, still a little pink in the cheeks, but her words came more easily now, like she was letting herself hope for something she hadn’t dared name.

When Lily finally stood, brushing crumbs from her jeans, Harry was already bundled into his car seat and Marlene looked like she was swallowing glass.

Remus nudged her. “Go.”

Marlene blinked. “What?”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Marlene hesitated—then bolted out the door.

Sirius watched as the two women stood beside Lily’s car, talking. Laughing, eventually. Lily wrote something down and passed it over. Then she leaned in and kissed Marlene’s cheek before getting into the car and driving away.

Marlene came back inside looking like someone had whispered the moon into her ear. Sirius didn’t know whether he envied her or pitied her, recognising his own hopeful yearning in the way she carried herself throughout the rest of the afternoon.

~~~

That evening, Remus and Regulus slipped out hand in hand, their conversation low and easy between them. Marlene left not long after, still half-smiling.

Sirius was locking up when he saw James across the street, standing in front of the café. He wasn’t moving. Just staring up at the sign, hands in his pockets.

Sirius crossed without thinking.

He stepped up behind James, wrapped his arms around his waist, and pressed his forehead between his shoulder blades. 

James didn’t startle. He leaned back into the touch like he’d been waiting for it.

“Feels weird,” James murmured. “Not having Harry tonight.”

“He’ll be back before you can miss him properly,” Sirius said.

James turned slightly, enough to see him. “Tomorrow’s the opening.”

Sirius kissed him. “You’re going to be amazing. People already care. They’re already interested. A well-known chef opening his own café? They’re practically vibrating across the street.”

James looked pensive. “You think so?”

Sirius nodded against his collar. “I know so.”

They lingered there a moment longer, wrapped in the hush of the street.

Then James tilted his head, eyes catching the soft light from inside his café. “You wanna come in? I’ve been meaning to show you something.”

Sirius followed him to the door, ducking under the just-hung string lights. The inside of the café was mostly set—tables positioned, walls painted in airy mint-green and warm creams. There were framed prints along every wall: vintage food posters, botanical sketches, a few old family photos of James and Harry and Lily and Remus, and some newer ones with Regulus and Sirius.

All except one wall, completely bare, near the back.

Sirius stopped in front of it.

James scratched the back of his neck, sheepish. “I was saving this spot. Thought maybe you’d want to put something up. If you ever felt like it.”

Sirius blinked. “My art?”

James shrugged, but his smile was crooked with something nervous. “I just thought, since you’re always sketching. Thought maybe they deserved a wall.”

Sirius looked at the space again, a lump in his throat. “Yeah,” he said, finally. “I think I’d like that.”

Before James could reply, he had him pressed against the empty wall, kissing him, saying all the things he couldn’t say aloud— thank you. I want you. Do you want me too? I think I might love you. James’ hands found his waist, his words caught between them, muffled by Sirius’ mouth and the soft thud of his head leaning back against wood.

“Wait,” James said. “There’s a bench somewhere here.”

Sirius looked up. “Oh?”

James nodded, then pushed Sirius away. Sirius opened his mouth to protest, but then James lifted him up like it was nothing, hands firm and sure, and Sirius had to bite down hard on a gasp, heat flashing down his spine at the sheer ease of it.

They ended up on the bench in a tangle of limbs, Sirius’ back pressed down, James’ arms holding himself up so he didn’t crush him. He leaned down for another kiss, and Sirius sighed into it happily. 

“I want to fuck you so badly,” James groaned into his neck. “Is that okay?”

There was no world where Sirius would say no—not to James, not like this.

“Please,” he said, breath hitching as he reached down. “I have lube in my pocket.”

“You—you have what?” James pulled back, snickering. “Did you plan for this?”

Sirius refused to squirm under his gaze. “No, but are you complaining?”

James shook his head, squeezing a liberal amount on his fingers and rubbing them together just enough to warm it up. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

Sirius shivered at the pet name, and James’ gaze sharpened with curiosity. He moved down Sirius’ body, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered as he slowly took off his clothes. When his fingers began prodding at his entrance, Sirius had to clench his fists around the edges of the bench, willing himself to keep it together. 

“Ready?” James asked, and Sirius nodded, unable to speak. James began fingering Sirius open, slowly and thoroughly, murmuring hushed praises into his skin, pressing kisses along the tattoos on his ribs and lower at the slope of his hips. Sirius tried to focus on what James was saying, but gave up when James’ fingers kept brushing against his prostate and then circling his entrance, over and over again. 

“You’re so beautiful,” James whispered. “So, so lovely. I’m so lucky to have you, my darling. Do you know how you look, spread out like this for me? With all your goddamn tattoos like a fucking piece of art. Like you were made just for me. Every part of you—fuck, Sirius—you drive me out of my mind.”

Sirius moaned, arching his back as James pushed a third finger in. “Yes,” he rasped. “Just for you, fuck, I need—”

“Shh,” James said. “I know. Let me take care of you, yeah?” He got out some more lube and slicked it up Sirius’ cock, making him keen.

“Just fuck me, already,” Sirius bit out. “Been thinking about this—about you—every damn day.”

“Such a demanding little thing,” James admonished, positioning himself above him. He pushed in slowly, and Sirius’ eyes went wide before falling shut, broken whimpers falling out of him. “So fucking tight. You’re perfect, my love.”

“M’love?” Sirius breathed, dazed and aching. James didn’t answer with words—just a sound low in his throat as he kissed him again, all heat and hunger, nothing careful about it.

Sirius wrapped his arms around James’ neck, tangling his fingers into the unruly curls. His nails scratched at James’ scalp, and James groaned, pushing into Sirius in a particularly sharp thrust. Sirius felt himself clench as he gasped.

“I’m close,” he said, then swatted away James’ hand when he started to reach for his cock. “No, I want you to cum first.”

James shook his head, readjusting his weight onto one arm and returning his other hand to Sirius. He kissed him gently as he stroked Sirius’ length, still pushing in and out of him, and Sirius was distracted by his own impending pleasure to stop James again. 

Within minutes, he was pushed over the edge, cum splattering against James’ stomach. James pulled away slightly, watching him, and Sirius took the opportunity to lightly smack his chest.

“I said I wanted you to cum first,” he said glaring. “You’re such a pain in the arse.” 

James grinned. “Well, I’m literally in your arse, so—”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius groaned. 

“I’ve never shagged someone who immediately started arguing,” James mused. “Especially about an orgasm. Isn’t that supposed to be the point?”

“No,” Sirius said. “Well, yes, but I wanted tonight to be about you.”

James huffed. “I mean, you can always make up for it now, instead of complaining.” He emphasised his point by rolling his hips into Sirius, whose lips parted silently at the overstimulation. 

Sirius held onto James’ arm, using the leverage to flip James onto his back on the bench. He rose above him, sucking in a breath as James slipped out of him. James hissed.

“You’re awful at listening to me,” he informed him, pushing his long hair over his shoulder.  “And now I’m mad. I was going to ride you, but you don’t deserve that anymore.”

James laughed. “Shame. Should you really be near my dick if you’re mad?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Relax. I’m not an animal.” He went down James’ body and didn’t give him any further warning before wrapping his lips around him. 

He could taste the remnants of the lube and something muskier—himself, he realised with a start—on James, and it wasn’t entirely pleasant, but this was James. Everything about him was perfect, at least to Sirius. 

He licked the tip of his cock after placing a gentle kiss on the end, relishing the way James’ hips jerked. His tongue licked around the head before slowly taking him deeper, hollowing his cheeks, and James blindly reached out to tug on his hair. Sirius moaned at the pull, taking James in deeper as he caressed his balls, gently tracing and tugging at them.

He was dimly aware of James swearing and mumbling nonsense, urging him on to continue, yes, just like that. Then James was tensing, babbling a stuttered warning—

As if Sirius hadn’t been fantasising about how James would taste for days. 

He gripped James’ thigh with the hand that wasn’t playing with his balls, sucking on him with renewed vigour. James came with a shout, hazel eyes pressing shut as Sirius swallowed it all down, letting James’ hips jerk and push deeper into his mouth. 

There was silence as they both caught their breath. Sirius half-wondered if he was squashing James as he laid on top of him. The thought quickly disappeared as his hands ghosted up and down his bare frame. He leaned down to remove James’ glasses, then pressed quick kisses onto his eyelids.

“You know, when I put this bench in, I never thought I’d have sex on it,” James mused. 

“The first time I saw this bench, all I could think about was having sex on it,” Sirius countered, nipping at his neck as James pinched his back. “I’m glad I just so happened to have lube in my pocket.”

“You just happened to have it,” James repeated, disbelieving. His hair was mussed, even more so than usual, and his face was relaxed, open and happy. Sirius couldn’t help but kiss him again. 

“Remus and Regulus and Marlene had all left, so I was hoping we could, um, hang out together,” Sirius admitted quietly. “I wouldn’t have minded if we didn’t have sex, but I had hoped—I just thought that maybe with Harry gone—”

James shushed him with a finger on his lips. “I know, darling. I’m just teasing.”

That reminded him. “You said—I mean, you were balls deep in me when you said it, so I get it if you didn’t mean it, but you called me love. Does that—did you mean it?” Sirius tried not to let his feelings show, but he didn’t know what he would do if James said no.

“What do you think?” James asked. “Of course I love you. Everyone knows it. Harry knows it. Remus and Regulus have known even before I did. Even Lily knows. For such an intelligent person, you can be quite dense.”

“Say it again,” Sirius requested, heart soaring. 

“What, that you’re dense?”

“No, you buffoon, before that.”

“Everyone in the world knows something and you don’t?”

“James!”

“I love you,” James repeated, voice fond as he pushed a lock of hair behind Sirius’ ear. “I love you. I love you and your beautiful hands and your amazing drawings and—” he squeezes Sirius’ arse playfully, “—your perfect butt. I love everything about you. So bloody much.”

Sirius buried his face into the space where James’ neck met his shoulder. “I do too. I love how happy you always make me feel. I haven’t felt like this in ages.”

James responded by kissing him, and they stayed there, quietly enjoying each other’s presence, when a thought reoccurred to Sirius. “Aren’t you uncomfortable like this?” he asked, wriggling about a bit, noticing that his whole left shoulder was hanging over the edge of the bench and his dried cum between them.

“Don’t even think about moving,” he said, locking his arms around his waist. “This is the most comfortable I’ve been all week. In fact, this is all I’ve thought about. It’s all I’m going to be thinking about. You’re like an addiction.”

“I feel the same way,” Sirius replied, amused, against his lips. “You’re very distracting.”

“I could tell,” James teased. “From all the staring you did through your window.”

The denial was at the tip of his tongue, but something about James’ expression— uncharacteristically tentative, almost shy—made him pause. “I can’t help that my boyfriend is so beautiful.”

James kissed his bare shoulder. “I’m your boyfriend now?”

“We had sex not too long before we confessed our love for each other,” Sirius said. “I’m pretty sure that makes us boyfriends. Unless you want to be friends with benefits, or, I don’t know, husbands, or something.”

“Yeah,” James whispered against his lips. “I’d like that.”

“Which one?” Sirius asks cheekily, arching into him. “I gave you several options.”

“‘Which one,’ he says,” James mocked, rolling his eyes. “What do you think?”

“I’m thinking that you’re scared of commitment, so you want us to remain friends who occasionally fuck each other,” Sirius said, his poker face breaking at James’ expression.

“I’ll show you commitment,” James growled. “I’m going to marry you someday.” Then a sheepish look crosses his face. “Maybe not right away, though. I just got divorced, like, two months ago.”

Sirius snorted. “This is the crappiest proposal I’ve ever witnessed in my life.”

“Oh, really?” James asked. “How many others have been proposing to you?”

“Technically, you’re the first,” Sirius said. “But that’s still more than you.”

James pressed a series of kisses against his skin. “Maybe you can propose to me, then, to show me how it’s done.” 

Sirius sighed when James’ lips found their way to the spot behind his ear. “Maybe.” Comfortable silence stretched around them. 

“Okay, we’re disgusting and it’s getting cold,” James suddenly said, sitting up and manoeuvring Sirius onto his lap. “Let’s get cleaned up and go home.”

Sirius frowned petulantly.

“Come on,” James insisted, wiping the dried smears on his belly before pulling his clothes and glasses back on. “It’ll be nicer to cuddle in a warm bed.”

“Fine,” he acquiesced, getting to his feet. 

“I love you.”

He watches, glaring, as Potter and Regulus share a laugh and part ways with Potter patting his shoulder. It's not that he thinks Potter is a bad bloke, but he'll snog anything that moves, and Regulus will end up with his heart broken. Sirius is going to ensure that doesn't happen. 

His blood is boiling, imagining his sweet, innocent little brother crying when James shags him and leaves. He's fuming by the time Potter comes close to him, and Sirius grabs him by the collar and hauls him into an empty classroom, shoving him against the wall and sticking the end of his wand under his jaw. 

"Black, pleasure to see you, as always," Potter says pleasantly, as if Sirius isn't glaring daggers at him. 

"Stay away from my brother." 

One corner of his mouth ticks up, and then he's smirking like the smug arsehole he is. "Or what?" 

Before Sirius knows it, he's blasted away from Potter, and he curses silently. In his anger, he hadn't paid any attention to where Potter's wand was. 

They duel in the classroom-- eventually spilling out into the hallway-- and both walk away with lost points and a night's detention. 

Bloody Potter. Fuck him and his infuriating smile. 

*

They serve in the same detention, which Sirius is sure is part of the punishment. Professor Flitwick confiscates their wands and leaves them alone as they write lines, all too aware that they'll start another fight if he lets them. Not to say that they haven't resorted to throwing punches in the past, but it's been a while since they last did that. Clearly, Flitwick doesn't think it'll be a problem. 

"Stay away from my brother," Sirius says, after they've been left alone for precisely one minute. 

"I'm Head Boy. I can't ignore any student or classmate." 

"You're Head Boy but you still get into trouble for dueling in the corridors," Sirius says dryly. "You can ignore one Hufflepuff underclassman. No one will even notice." 

"Evans would." 

Evans, the Head Girl, is also a Gryffindor, but she doesn't seem to like Potter very much. Sirius doesn't know her exact reasons, but it might have something to do with the fact that her best friend is one Severus Snape, and Potter wasn't very nice to him in their younger years. Sirius wasn't nice to him either, in spite of them sharing a dormitory. The guy's a dick, and Sirius had no problem saying it. Loudly and often. It's something he and Potter have in common. It's a pretty long list of things they have in common, actually. The biggest difference between them is probably Potter sleeping around, because Sirius doesn't much care for dating, never has. No one's ever really held his attention. Although, it looks like the same can be said for Potter-- no one can hold his attention for more than a month. Sirius kind of, sort of likes Potter, despite all the times they've butted heads. He thinks they fight so much because they're so similar, but like hell is he going to say that to his face. No one can challenge him like Potter-- no one even comes close. 

But this... Sirius can't let him fuck his brother and then walk away. In no world is he letting that happen. 

"Whatever," Sirius says, looking back down at his parchment. "Just stay away from him." 

"Hm, no can do." 

Sirius looks over at him with a glare. "And why the hell not?" 

Potter is leaning back in his chair, a lazy grin on his stupidly handsome face. "Why does this bother you so much?" 

Sirius wants to hex him so fucking badly, but Flitwick took away his wand. His hands clench into fists. "Because my brother is a tender-hearted fool that will believe you when you whisper sweet nothings in his ear. You're going to break his heart if you don't leave him alone, so leave him the fuck alone." 

"And not meddling in his life hasn't occurred to you?" 

"I'm his older brother. I can meddle in his life as much as I want to." He sets down his quill and crosses his arms over his chest, also leaning back in his chair to mirror Potter. "And I notice you haven't promised to stop talking to him." 

"Oh, I could," Potter says loftily, "but what good would it do? I think Regulus rather likes my company. What am I going to do when he seeks me out?" 

Sirius grits his teeth together. "You turn him away." 

"I don't think I will, though. Funny thing about you Black's, you've got the most beautiful grey eyes. Is it really my fault if I want to see them up close and personal?" 

Sirius is going to kill him, and best of all, right now there are no witnesses. He forces himself to take a deep breath. Potter is goading him. Why? The anger goes on the backburner and is replaced with curiosity. Why is Potter egging him on like this? What does he hope to gain? They both landed in detention (and they will gain another if they fight in here, Flitwick will definitely catch them), so it's not that Potter wants to get him in trouble. He cocks his head at Potter, expression clearing. 

This, of all things, makes Potter nervous. "What?" 

Sirius says nothing, just continues to look at him. 

Potter narrows his eyes behind those bottle glasses of his. "What happened to the threats? The anger? You're so sure I'm going to hurt your brother, and now, all of a sudden, you're fine with it?" 

He wants Sirius upset... but for what? Most beautiful grey eyes, echoes in his mind, and oh fucking hell that can't be right. Potter fancies him? Surely he's wrong. "You don't care about Regulus." 

"Yeah, that's what you were mad about a second ago," Potter says slowly, brow furrowed. He looks awful cute when he's confused. 

"No, I mean that you don't even want to fuck him, like I thought you did. You did it to get my attention." 

"That's some ego you have there, Black," he says, but a flush is creeping up his face. 

Sirius smirks. "It's earned. All right, you have my attention. What are you going to do with it?" He unfolds his arms and puts one elbow on the desk so he can prop his head in his hand lazily. "I'm flattered, I'll admit. No one's ever put in such effort for me before." 

"That you noticed," Potter mutters. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," he says, but Sirius is sure he heard him right. What does that mean 'that you noticed'? Have people tried to get his attention before and he never saw it? Has Potter tried to get his attention before and failed? It seems impossible, but it's also the only explanation. "Just do your lines." He hunches over his desk to get back to his own, and Sirius slowly follows suit. 

Maybe he's wrong. Potter is certainly getting something out of this, but if he fancied Sirius, he'd say it, wouldn't he? It must be something else. 

*

The next day, Potter is back at it with Regulus, only this time, he catches Sirius looking and very deliberately brings Regulus's hand up to his mouth and places a kiss on the back of it. Regulus blushes, and Sirius is going to kill Potter. For real, this time. No one's going to stop him. Potter is toying with his brother's feelings, and he knows that Sirius knows, and he's still doing it. 

He storms up to them, not waiting around for Potter to leave this time, and wrenches him away. "Hands off my brother, Potter." 

"Sirius!" Regulus is mortified. People are staring. Sirius doesn't care. "I'm sorry about him," Regulus tells Potter. 

Potter doesn't look bothered in the slightest. He looks excited, almost, that Sirius is manhandling him. Oh for fuck's sake, Potter fancies him. There were easier ways to go about this, he's sure. 

Sirius lets go of him before they can get another detention. He keeps up the act of being mad. He's not sure how much of it is an act. "Stay away from him," he spits, and stalks off. If Potter follows, they can take care of this right now. 

He slows his steps after he rounds the corner. Give him plenty of time to catch up. 

And Potter does. 

The corridor is empty except for the two of them. Sirius turns to face him, blood racing. "You're ridiculous." 

"Why, because I-" Potter stops talking. He has to, because Sirius snogging him. 

And Potter kisses him back. They're kissing hard, pushing at each other and ripping at their robes, biting harshly and gasping into each other's mouths. They stumble into an empty classroom and barely lock the door before they're jerking each other off. 

They're panting, still intertwined. Sirius is sat on a desk, Potter crowded between his legs, arms around each other. 

"Satisfied?" Sirius asks. 

Potter hums affirmatively, and leans in to kiss him. 

Sirius leans away. "What're you doing?" 

He looks uncertain, the expression foreign on his face. "Kissing you?" 

"Why? We're not dating." 

"Oh," Potter says softly. 

"Merlin, did you think this was us getting together?" 

"No, of course not," Potter says, pulling away, but there's a tell-tale shameful blush covering his cheeks. 

"I can't date you," Sirius says, unsure why he's explaining himself. "My parents would kill me. They're pissed enough as it is with Regulus being in Hufflepuff, the last thing they'd stand for is me getting together with a blood traitor." 

Potter scoffs. "Don't pretend like you care. About what your parents think or that I'm a blood traitor. I know you too well to fall for that shit. If you don't fancy me, then say so. I'm a big boy, I can handle it. But tell me the truth." 

That is the truth. 

...Isn't it? 

Potter's eyes are blazing, there's colour high in his cheeks, and his lips look raw from where Sirius has bitten them. He looks so damn beautiful like this. 

This, Sirius reflects, is a really bad time to realize he's head over heels for James Potter. 

"You can't fuck my brother," he blurts. 

"I never planned on it." 

Sirius glares at him, but he's not angry. It's good news that James never planned on having sex with Regulus, but, "You could've asked me on a date. Like a normal person." 

"You would've turned me down." 

"And this was your second idea?" 

"I didn't know this-" he gestures between their bodies "-would happen, but I figured any attention from you was good attention. We're in seventh year, we're going to graduate soon… I dunno. I was running out of time, and when I saw your brother in the corridor, I walked up to him without thinking about it." 

"You're so bloody ridiculous," Sirius breathes. He's in love with an idiot. James is smart-- as smart as Sirius-- but he's a bleeding idiot. 

"I don't see you having a better-" 

Sirius aches for it to be real. He wants to have all of this and a little more. He wants that final step into calling James his boyfriend. They could die any day between their jobs as aurors and their work for the Order, and he doesn't want to leave any regrets behind. But he knows that James doesn't love him. Not like that. He would take the chance except James always goes back to Lily. That's a clear declaration of his feelings. 

So he fucks James and kisses him and pets his hair as they lie naked, intertwined, and wishes he could have it all. 

*

When Sirius hears James crying in the loo, his first thought is 'who died?'. Those are the sort of times they live in. Sirius hates it, but that's the reality of their situation. Marlene's death still feels all too fresh, and when he knocks on the door, he expects to get the news of someone else. Dorcas? Frank and Alice? Merlin, he doesn't even want to think it, but what if something happened to Lily? His heart drops to the floor, and he takes a steadying breath. 

"James? Let me in." 

Instead of the door opening, James says, "No." 

Sirius blinks at the door, uncomprehending. There's no such thing as 'no' in their relationship, never has been. Lily and Peter both hold that there should be, but there isn't. They feed into each other, for better or worse. And now, of all times, James is going to keep him out? "What do you mean 'no'? Let me in." 

"I don't want to," James says, then sobs. 

Sirius ignores that and tries the handle. It's not locked. 

His heart lurches. James is a mess, sat on the edge of the tub with his glasses off and tears streaking down his cheeks. "I can't do this," he cries, shoulders shaking. 

Sirius joins him, rubbing a hand against his back. "Whatever it is, we'll handle it together. Like always, yeah?" 

He shakes his head, and there's something frantic about him that Sirius doesn't quite understand. If someone's dead, it's horrible, but why would he try to shut Sirius out because of it? It doesn't make any sense. It brings him hope that maybe it's not as bad as James thinks, and it really will be something they can deal with instead of mourning people they couldn't help. 

"Talk to me," Sirius says quietly. "I can't help if I don't know what's happening." 

James keeps shaking his head. 

"James, talk to me." He's desperate now, and in no mood to guess, but he'll do what he has to. He scoots closer and wraps his arm around James's shoulders. James falls into his chest. "Did someone die?" 

"No." He's shivering. 

"Was someone captured?" 

"No." 

"Then what is it?" Sirius's mind whirls, trying to think of what else could get this reaction from him. He's not prepared for what James tells him. 

"I'm pregnant." He sobs again, the sound wrenching from his throat and scraping him raw. "I don't know what to do. Sirius-" his hands fist in Sirius's robes "-what do we do? We're in the middle of the war- and Lily- we can't have a baby!" 

He holds James, because that's all he can do. What is he supposed to say? He's never felt at a loss of words when it comes to James, but he is now. He can't say that everything's okay-- it's not. He can't say anything about the situation with Lily because he has no idea how she'll react to the news. He says the only thing he can, the only thing he's sure of, "I'll be with you the whole time." 

"I can't do this," he wails. 

"Yes, you can. We can do this together." Sirius has no idea how to work this out, but they'll deal with it because there's nothing else to be done about it. 

He holds James until he's finished crying. He holds him while he shakes and whispers over and over that he can't do it, and Sirius promises him that they can. 

"I'm sorry," James mutters, once he's pulled himself back together. 

"Sorry for what? Being pregnant? It's not like we planned this." 

"That's exactly what I'm sorry for," he says, still mumbling through his words. "I should've been sure I was taking the contraceptive potion." 

It looks like he's about to start crying again, so Sirius kisses his forehead and rubs his back. "Do you want to move to the living room? A bit more comfortable there." They've been sitting on the tub's edge for so long that his legs have gone stiff. 

James nods, and Sirius helps him to his feet. 

"Do you know how far along you are?" 

"No idea. We've been so sporadic..." 

"Yeah." They sit on the couch, and James crawls into his lap. 

"I know you don't love me, but-" 

"Stop right there," Sirius interrupts. "Of course I love you." 

"You're not in love with me." 

"Well." He swallows thickly. "You're not in love with me." 

"I wouldn't say that," James mutters, and Sirius's heart skips a beat. 

"What do you mean?" 

James shakes his head, but Sirius isn't about to let him off the hook. 

"James..." He tilts James's head up to meet his eyes. "I love you. No offense, but I wouldn't sleep with any of my other friends because they're upset over a breakup. Just you." 

"You don't mean that. You can't mean that. You're saying it because I'm pregnant." 

"I'm telling you because you're pregnant. I've thought this whole time that you were in love with Lily and I was convenient, but James- if you love me too, we can have everything. We can get married and have this baby and be a family. I want all of that with you, but you know that I'll be there for you even if you say no." It would break his heart, but he'd still be there for him. "You don't have to love me for me to raise this baby with you. No matter what else happens, you're still my best friend." 

"I love you." James presses his lips to Sirius's suddenly, desperately. "I love you too. Please, everything you just said that's what I want. I want you and me, I want a family." 

"Hey, shh, it's okay. It's okay, James. Just breathe, we can figure this out. Together." 

"Together," James echoes, kissing him again, softer this time. 

*

James is showing now. His stomach, once flat and toned, is now swollen round with the baby. He's the one comforting Sirius this time. They got news of his brother's death. Him and Regulus weren't close, hadn't even spoken in years, but it's still his brother. 

Sirius's hand is rubbing over James's stomach near compulsively. 

"What're you thinking?" James asks quietly. 

"What if I die?" 

"Don't even say it. You'll be fine." 

"But if I did, you and the baby would be all alone." Sirius can't help but think about it, when James is benched but he's still out there every day, without his best partner there to watch his back. "Everyone's dying, and it could be me next. I want to know that you'd be okay." 

"I wouldn't be," James says bluntly. "You're the one person I can't lose, Sirius. I need you. The baby needs you; I can't raise them alone." He wants Sirius to quit his job. They're both still working for the Order of course, and that is even more dangerous some days, but it's not like they can stop. But Sirius can stop being an auror. 

"And Merlin willing, you won't have to," he whispers. "Regulus was so bloody young. He was still in Hogwarts, and us-" He breaks off. 

"I know," James says, because he does. 

It sucks. Everything sucks. They're married, and it was a happy occasion, but it was tinted with sadness by the reminder of their friends that couldn't be there-- Order business or already dead. They're having a baby, which should be even happier, and yet they're spending the whole pregnancy terrified of what'll happen. They're vulnerable like this. 

They're all so bloody vulnerable. 

James pulls him into a slow kiss, the kind that curls his toes and reminds him how much James loves him. "Together. No matter what happens, we're doing it together. You promised, remember?" 

Regulus is weird. There's no two ways about it. He flaps his hands around his head sometimes, he'll plug his ears and hunch over the table at random moments, he's blunt and oftentimes confused when people get aggressive with him. He Sorts into Slytherin, which isn't a surprise. Sirius stands up for him, which again, isn't a surprise, considering it's his little brother. 

What does surprise James is how patient Sirius is with him. Because here's the thing: James has seen Sirius deal with people that don't get concepts as easily as him, and he gets annoyed quickly. But with Regulus? It's like he has a never-ending well of patience. He'll reword his statements two or three times for his brother when he's confused. He'll push away well-meaning professors before they can touch Regulus's shoulder. He'll explain magical concepts as many times as Regulus asks him. 

"Why're you looking at me like that?" Sirius asks, after one time where he found two more forks for Regulus so he didn't have to use the same one for all of his food-- plated separately from each other, for reasons James cannot fathom, but which make Regulus actually eat instead of frowning at his food for the entire meal. The Slytherins at his table hid their forks when Regulus asked for an extra. Arseholes. 

"Like what?" James responds, even though he knows the way he's been looking at Sirius: absolutely besotted. 

"Like you're about to hug me and never let go." 

James thinks that's an excellent idea and throws his arms around Sirius, squeezing tighter as he tries to escape. "You brought this on yourself! Accept it!" 

It turns into a partial wrestle until one of the Gryffindor prefects snaps at them to stop it before they land in the food. They settle down, but James keeps one arm around Sirius's shoulder, so he wins. Peter and Remus ignore them the entire time, which is just as well-- they're not as much fun as Sirius. 

*

James crawls into Sirius's bed one night. There's nothing particularly remarkable about the day. Regulus went nonverbal while Professor Slughorn was reprimanding him in the hallway, and Sirius stepped in. He didn't get Regulus out of the detention he earned himself-- throwing potion ingredients at a classmate was a detention no matter who you were-- but he kept Professor Slughorn from making Regulus's mood worse, mediating between them so he didn't get an additional detention for ignoring a professor. It's pretty standard fare these days. James keeps falling harder and harder for his best mate. 

Sirius scoots over to make room for him. 

James lays on his side, facing Sirius. He's going to tell him that he fancies him. Seeing this softer side of Sirius turned his crush into full blown love, and he can't keep it in any longer. 

Sirius notices his staring, of course. "What?" 

"You're amazing." 

A light blush dusts his cheeks, but he pretends he's unaffected. "You're pretty amazing yourself. Quidditch practice was great tonight. We'll definitely win the match against Hufflepuff if we play like that." 

"That's not what I meant," James says, not allowing himself to be distracted with talk of Quidditch. "You're great with Regulus. I've never seen you be so soft with someone before." 

"I'm not soft with him," Sirius denies, rolling his eyes. 

"You are. Patient, too." 

"Well." He squirms a little, making James smile. "Someone has to be. Our parents sure as hell aren't. And the professors don't care when they've got a hundred other students. Stop looking at me like that." 

James does not. His smile widens. "Looking at you like what?" 

"Like you think I'm this nice person for helping him out sometimes. Everyone should be more understanding. It's not his fault he's a bit different. Stop that." Sirius puts a hand on his face and pushes him away. 

James laughs, pulling his hand away and holding it in both of his own. "I fancy you," he says, and he wishes there was a way to be more romantic about it, but he knows that Sirius would run at the first sign of romance so maybe it's for the best. 

"You go from talking about my brother to telling me you fancy me?" 

"Not the best segue, I admit. But I..." James trails off, thumb rubbing against the back of Sirius's hand. "I see how you are with him, and it's different. I already fancied you, but that's a side of you I've never seen before. I like it. I like everything about you." It feels childish to say it, but it's true. There's not a single thing about Sirius that he dislikes. 

"I er-" Sirius licks his lips nervously. "I like everything about you too." He looks at James shyly for a moment before leaning in to kiss him. 

James meets him halfway, but it's not a great kiss because they're both smiling too much. 

They break apart, laughing. "Not our best," Sirius says, and James nods. 

"We'll get better." 

"We always do." Sirius's eyes trail across James's face-- dare he say it-- lovingly. "So seeing how I treat Regulus got you to fall for me?" 

"Oh, I'd already fallen for you. This just cemented it." 

"Yeah, my parents are hoping it straightens me out or summat, I dunno." Sirius won't meet his eyes. "Er, look, I've got to get going. I didn't want to just disappear on you, but I'm supposed to be at Durmstrang in the morning, so." He swallows thickly. "Bye, James." 

"Wait, don't-" he tries to say, but Sirius already broke the connection, leaving James staring at his own horrified expression. "Durmstrang?" he repeats to himself. He tries the mirror again, but Sirius doesn't pick up. His parents probably rushed him right out the door, happy to send their black sheep son away. 

James tosses the mirror down and hurries out of the dormitory to the Headmaster's office. Surely, Professor Dumbledore will correct this situation. What if Sirius's parents lied to him about being expelled to take advantage of the situation? James wouldn't put it past them. The more he thinks about it as he walks, the more he thinks that that must be what happened. Sirius isn't actually expelled. He can't be. 

Fuck, what is he going to do if Sirius is actually expelled? He can't go through the rest of Hogwarts without Sirius here. 

*

Durmstrang is miserable. 

Maybe all school is miserable, Sirius reflects. He only liked Hogwarts because James was there. And now James isn't here at Durmstrang, so he just hates it. 

The magical knowledge he's learning is actually quite nice. Durmstrang goes more into curses and has a stronger runes class, so Sirius finally feels like he's being challenged in class instead of reading the book and already knowing all the coursework because of it. 

He tries to pay as much attention to his classes as he can, but it doesn't fix the hole in his chest where James used to be. He must be furious with Sirius. He wants to think about James so he can remember the good times, but they've been irrevocably soured by what he did. He nearly got Snape killed. Snape definitely would have died if James hadn't stepped in, and Sirius would be responsible. For someone like James, who had such a firm stance on what was right and what was wrong, what Sirius did is unforgivable. It makes his heart ache every time he thinks about it, so he tries not to think about it.

But all he can do is think about it.

Pouring himself into his classes works as a passable distraction half the time, and the other half of the time he's miserably bored out of his mind. He has no friends here, and they don't want to be friends with him. That's just as well; none of them could compare to James or the other Marauders, so why try?

He keeps picking up his quill to write James letters. He wants to tell his best mate about his day, the neat magic he's picked up here, how much he misses him... but James doesn't think of him as a friend anymore. Most days, he drips ink over the parchment and then bins it with no words written. Other times, he'll write out the letter like they're still the best of friends, detailing all the things he yearns to tell James. He bins those as well.

He misses James so bloody much, it feels like one of his arms is missing. He turns, and James isn't there. He's sad, and James isn't there to cheer him up or just keep him company. 

He hates this. He hates losing his friends because he said something stupid, and he hates even more that Snape was an idiot that decided to listen to him. 

He's so sodding miserable that he genuinely doesn't know what to do. But he has classes in the morning, so he continues to get out of bed and drag himself to his classes. He has homework, so he does the homework. They put food in front of him, so he eats. 

He doesn't go back for the winter holidays. He doesn't want to spend time with his family in Britain, where he'll feel the absence of James even more. 

His parents tell him not to come back over the summer. They find a magical bed and breakfast and rent him a room for the entire season. It's just as well; he didn't want to go back to Britain anyways. 

*

Sirius is freshly graduated from Durmstrang when his family send word that Uncle Alphard has died, and his presence is requested at the funeral. He knows an order when he sees one, and normally that would be enough for him to say no out of principle, but he liked Uncle Alphard. He's going to miss him. Uncle Alphard was the only person to regularly send him letters once he transferred to Durmstrang. 

He steps foot on British soil for the first time in over two years, and Merlin, he missed this place. Durmstrang was never home; Britain was. 

He's bigger than he was the last time he saw his parents and Regulus. In their minds, he stopped growing once he moved. It's obvious what they thought when their eyes go wide at the sight of him. There's nothing else shocking about his appearance to do it-- his hair is the same length, his clothes the same, his coloring unchanged away from the British cloudy sky. But he's bigger now. Taller, yes, but his shoulders have gone broad and filled out in the time he's been gone. He doesn't look quite so much like a teenager now; he looks like a man. 

His family don't offer hugs, and he doesn't expect them. He's here for Uncle Alphard's funeral and after that...

Sirius has no idea what happens after that. He always had it in his mind that he'd move back here once he was done with school, but to what end? He has no friends left here. If he stays in England, the ache of James will always be close. What would he do if he saw James on the street? He half-expects to cry and beg him to understand that Sirius didn't think Snape would be stupid enough to listen to him, that it was all just a misunderstanding when Sirius taunted him because it's not as if Snape didn't already suspect that Remus was a werewolf. It wouldn't matter. James is all about trust, and Sirius broke that, didn't he? Two and some years won't change that. 

As for the rest of Britain's Wizarding World, it's common knowledge that Sirius was expelled. He doesn't know if the details ever made it out, but an expulsion doesn't look good on a job application. He'll probably go back to the continent and find work there. All his professors at Durmstrang loved him, since his lack of friends made sure he threw himself into his coursework. He has good references there, and none of them care that he was expelled from Hogwarts. As far as they're concerned, Hogwarts's loss was their gain. 

The more he thinks about it, the more he's sure that this is a visit, not moving back home. He has no place here. Professors that thought fondly of him have had two years without. His friends here turned to hating him before he even left. His family- well, the less said about them, the better. His prospects are good on the continent; they're nonexistent in Britain. 

He grows more certain with this course as he sits through Uncle Alphard's memorial service. He was a fool to ever think he'd come back here after graduating Durmstrang. There's nothing for him here. 

Nothing but heartache, he amends a moment later. The Potter's are here. Fleamont and Euphemia are, at least, dressed in respectful robes. He doesn't see James standing beside them. He swallows thickly, mourning that he couldn't catch a glimpse of him while in the country. It doesn't make sense why they're here, though. As far as Sirius knew, Uncle Alphard never had anything to do with the Potter's; the only Black family tie to the Potter's was Sirius himself. 

He drags his eyes away from them and back onto the person speaking. He can do this. He just needs to make it through the rest of the memorial service, and stay an appropriate amount of time at the wake afterwards. Then he can leave and never look back. 

The wake is being held outside, and there's easily a hundred people present, which is surprising, considering Uncle Alphard wasn't the most sociable person. His plan to leave after an hour is thrown off the rails when James appears from nowhere and bowls into him in the strongest hug Sirius has ever been on the receiving end of. 

He pulls back with a heartstopping grin, not letting go of Sirius as if he's afraid he'll run away. Merlin. For as much as Sirius has grown, James has matched him. And if Sirius thought he was attractive back then? It's nothing compared to now. He's filled out, and Sirius's eyes trail over him helplessly. 

"I didn't see you at the service," Sirius says. 

"My parents sent for me when they saw you there. I would've shown up immediately, but I think it would've made a bit of a scene if I did this there." James hugs him again. "You absolute arse, you fell off the map for years and then don't even tell me when you're back in the country?" 

"Why would I have told you?" Sirius asks blankly. 

James pulls back-- still touching him though-- and frowns. 

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me anymore." 

"Why the hell would you think that?" James asks, frown deepening. "I've been sending you letters. Why wouldn't I want to see you?" 

"You've been sending me letters?" 

James's arms drop down to his sides. "You didn't get them?" 

Numbly, Sirius shakes his head. His life since his expulsion from Hogwarts is starting to rearrange itself in his mind. James is happy to see him; he was sending him letters. James never hated him, and might still think of Sirius as his best friend even with the silence of the last few years. 

"I'm going to kill your parents," James scowls, because it was certainly them who set up a block so Sirius didn't receive any of his letters. 

"They can wait," Sirius says, a smile creeping across his face. "You missed me?" 

James groans theatrically. "Like you wouldn't believe. Moony and Wormtail got so sick of me whinging about it that they avoided me for a couple weeks. That just made everything worse though, since you weren't returning my letters. Not your fault, I now know." He pats Sirius's shoulder, like he needed to be reassured. If Sirius is honest with himself, he did need it. "How've you been? Are you moving back? You didn't replace me with a different best mate, did you? Also, you're still taller than me, you arsehole. I was so sure I'd have caught up with you next time we saw each other." 

"I didn't replace you," Sirius says, affronted that James even considered it. Though Sirius certainly thought James was doing that at Hogwarts, but their situations were different. "And erm-" James isn't going to like this bit "-I was thinking about staying on the continent. I've got better prospects there." 

For a moment, James is speechless. He stares at Sirius, his eyes wide and disbelieving. "You can't leave me again." 

Sirius swallows thickly. He doesn't want to leave James, especially since it turns out he isn't mad at him, but everything he thought before he saw James here is still true. He was expelled from Hogwarts. He has no good recommendations in this country. He doesn't mind an uphill battle, but Britain might not even let him show up to the fight. He'll be out before he can start. 

"Sirius, you can't- I'm not-" he stops, frustrated, and runs a hand through his hair. "Okay. Fuck. I wasn't going to say it because I didn't want to scare you off, but if you're already going to leave, I've got nothing to lose." 

"What are you talking about?"

"I fancy you," James blurts. His eyes are hot on Sirius's skin. Everything about James is intense, and this is no exception. Sirius wants to squirm under that gaze, which sends his mind to places entirely inappropriate for a wake. "A lot. Always have, though I didn't know it at the beginning. And once I figured it out, I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship, but with you planning to leave again, I figured it's now or never." 

Sirius can hardly believe what he's hearing. It's a dream come true-- literally. He can't count how many times he's dreamed of this: James forgiving him, James never being mad at him, James professing his love for him. 

Before Sirius can tell him that he definitely wants to date him, someone appears at his elbow. "Are you Sirius Black?" The someone in question is a distinguished middle-aged man in expensive robes. 

James takes a hasty step back, only now drawing Sirius's attention to how long they'd been standing very close to each other. 

Sirius clears his throat, else it would come out husky and wholly inappropriate. "Yeah, that's me." 

"Excellent." He holds out his hand. "Dorian Greengrass, esquire. I need to speak with you regarding Alphard Black's will." 

"Erm." Sirius glances at James, who is looking a bit heartbroken. It's not his fault! They were interrupted before Sirius could profess his undying love. All right, maybe not that exactly, but it would be the spirit of it. "Can you give me a second?" he asks Greengrass. 

The man takes one pointed step back and waits expectantly. 

Bugger everything. He's imagined this moment a thousand times, and not once was a solicitor watching them. Sirius isn't going to let him ruin this, though. He puts a hand on James's shoulder and leans in, speaking directly in his ear. His voice is a soft whisper, fanning gently over James's skin. "I feel the same way." He squeezes his arm, hoping it conveys everything he can't say with their audience. "Give me a minute and I'll come back to you." 

“Think about your come near me often, do you?” James says.

“That is not—you—” he splutters, then rolls his eyes. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters and walks away. 

James watches him leave and grins. He had expected Black’s predictable comeback, but his face, wide-eyed and caught off-guard, was a much more exciting reaction.

~~~

The summer before James started Hogwarts, his parents threw a large banquet in his name. They invited all the purebloods they knew and some others, and to their surprise, most of the pureblood families showed up. The Blacks, unable to resist the lure of a night of gossip and wine and music, were one of them. 

At eleven, James was just as restless as he is at seventeen. He’d managed to escape the crowds of people gathered inside Potter Manor to climb one of the trees on his back lawn. Something about the night—just a week before he’d leave for Hogwarts—made him ache in a way he had never felt before, and he wanted to step outside to look at the stars. His mum had taught him all about constellations, and he found comfort in trying to find them.

He was just about to swing his legs over the highest branch when his hold on the trunk slipped and he fell onto the grass below.

“You should watch where you’re going,” came a disdained sniff next to him. “Or are you blind even with your glasses?” 

James looked up to see the Black heir, clad in silk robes of deep emerald, eyeing him with a bored expression. His blood boiled—it was one thing to make fun of him, but another thing to consider him boring. 

“I’m not blind, but seeing you makes me wish I was!” he answered hotly. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he was being unreasonable, that there was no need to lash out, but someone finding him when he was trying to get away from his own party made him feel unpleasantly exposed. 

“Clearly you blood traitors have no manners,” Black said. His expression remained bored and James wanted to punch him. How dare he come to James’ party just to insult him and then talk about manners?

“At least we’re not so inbred our family tree is more of a circle than anything resembling a tree,” he retorted.

“It’s to keep the good genes away from you lot,” Black said, scowling. 

James looked him up and down. “I don’t see anything I’d want to have,” he said, done with the conversation. 

In retrospect, it may have been a bad idea to make an enemy out of someone so magically inclined as Sirius Black, especially if said person was to be one of James’ peers for the next seven years. James decided to simply avoid Black for his own good.

On the train ride, he’d successfully managed to follow through with his decision. But as soon as they arrived at Hogwarts, all his efforts to avoid and ignore were quickly undone. As soon as they were sorted—James to Gryffindor, of course, and Black to Slytherin—Black started in on him as though he were making up for James having the last word in their argument in the summer just days ago. 

“I’ll never understand how the Sorting Hat managed to fit on you, Potter, with your head being as large as it is. Maybe that’s why you were sorted before it even touched you.”

“It’s really not that hard to understand, Black, but you were always a slow one.”

“Slow? More like waiting for you to catch up. It’s not fun having one-sided conversations, but you wouldn’t know the difference.”

And thus their years-long rivalry began. Initially, they exchanged nothing more than barbed insults, but soon, increasingly complex pranks followed. In their third year, Black vanished James’ clothes mid-Quidditch match, while James slipped enchanted powder into his shampoo bottle, causing his hair to become an impressive gold and red for a week. James cast a silent spell on Black’s shoes, making them squeak with every step, and in return, Black charmed James’ cloak to stick to him. 

This year, however, James has a plan to beat Black once and for all. It isn’t a particularly good one, but that has never stopped him.

~~~

The first week of classes passes without incident. James wants to feel happy about it—perhaps Black’s prudish nature couldn’t handle James’ comments a few days before—but instead, he feels rather, well, disappointed.

It comes as a welcome relief when Slughorn announces the potion they will be working on that week: Essence of Insanity. 

“Now, class,” he begins, leaning against his desk. “This is a very dangerous potion. I trust that as seventh years in a NEWT-level class, you are all well-equipped to make this without trouble. Now, can anyone tell me why it is so important to follow directions with extra care for this potion?”

Lily raises her hand. “It causes irrational decision making in the drinker, Professor, so it’s already a pretty dangerous potion if it falls into the wrong hands.” She pauses, instinctively flicking her eyes to the Slytherin half of the room. “And the main active ingredients, frog brains and beetle eyes, can cause unpleasant results if not mixed in the right way.”

Slughorn beams. “Excellent work, as usual, Miss Evans! Now, get in pairs. We’ll be working on this all week.”

Remus is already sitting near Lily, so James is left to partner with Peter. As he makes his way to the storage cabinet to get the ingredients, a shadow falls across his arm. 

“Your potion will likely be the best in the class, Potter, since you’ve mastered the essence of insanity ages ago, don’t you think?” a snide voice says next to him.

James hums, in the middle of crushing his spoonful of beetle eyes. “Well, my father is a master potioneer.”

“Sure, plus you’re a master at being insane—”

“You’re so tall,” James says, as he finishes measuring. “It’s nice.” He had turned around to return to his seat, but he hadn’t realized how fast the line had moved and how close Black now stood behind him. 

Black eyes him warily. “What?”

“I mean, I knew you were tall, since I’ve seen you around, but I hadn’t realized you were taller than me,” James continues. “You’ve probably got a couple centimeters on me. Probably makes it easier to reach these ingredients on the high shelves, doesn’t it?”

Black steps back, or as much as he can without trampling someone’s feet behind him. He looks down at himself, then back at James, mentally cataloging their height difference with a bewildered expression. “Um, I guess. So?”

“So, nothing,” James says. “Just that I find tall people more attractive. See you later.”

And then he strolls back to his cauldron where Peter awaits him, leaving Black baffled behind him. 

~~~

“Hey, Potter,” Black sneers in the corridor near the Great Hall the next morning, stopping James on his way to breakfast. “Where’s the rest of your little clique? Did they abandon you? I suppose they were bound to figure out how boring you are after seven years in your presence.”

James shrugs, the jab not bothering him nearly as much as it did seven years ago. “Remus and Peter woke up before me. And anyway, I’m glad I caught you without them around—they wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if they heard me tell you that green is your color.”

Black raises an eyebrow. James idly wishes he could make the same expression with as much ease. “The same green that you claimed was an atrocity to everyone’s eyes?” 

James nods. “Yeah. Somehow you make it work. I never noticed before, but your eyes are sort of a cooler shade of gray. The green brings out the color. You look good.”

“Er—”

“I’m not sure if the green is what brings your eyes out more, or if it’s your ridiculous cow eyelashes, or your hair,” James says, leaning a little closer to scrutinize him. 

Black takes an alarmed step back. “M-my what eyelashes?”

“Cow eyelashes,” James repeats, gesturing at them. “They’re all long and thick. Mine aren’t half as pretty, but I guess my glasses cover most of them anyway. Hey, is your hair wavy? I always thought it was straight.”

Black reaches up and touches his hair uncertainly, looking lost about how to deal with James’ onslaught of compliments. “Uh, no, it’s always been wavy.”

“I bet your parents aren’t a fan of you growing it out,” James remarks, wishing he could take the words back when he sees Black’s jaw clench. 

Unexpectedly, Black barks out a laugh, though his posture remains stiff. “That’s the whole point.”

James glances up, surprised. “Seriously? I’d have thought you would do anything to keep them happy.”

Black’s eyes darken. “Well, that just goes to show that you know nothing,” he says icily, sweeping past James into the Great Hall. James exhales heavily, regretting his words, before following him to breakfast.

~~~

Several hours later, James finds himself hunched over his and Peter’s cauldron of Essence of Insanity at the table in front of Black. He’s minding his own business, already feeling guilty about this morning’s encounter.

“Hey, Potter.” When James turns his head, Black is pointing at the jar of frog brains on the racks next to their desk, “If it’s not too much trouble for you to help a spineless, evil Slytherin.”

James’ lips tighten. “I didn’t mean—never mind,” he says, passing him the jar. He looks over at Black’s potion. “Hey—what the heck, yours looks amazing! What did you do?”

“I read,” Black snaps, voice sharp. “Which you clearly can’t do, even with an extra set of eyes.”

“I—”

“But it’s not unlike what I’d expect from you. It makes sense that a reckless Gryffindor such as yourself wouldn’t be able to read the room or, apparently, textbooks.”

James falls silent. “I’m sorry about this morning,” he says quietly. Then, gathering his courage, he says, “My dad always wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but I’ve never been the best at potions. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he still wishes I did better. Maybe we could work together for the next potions project since you’re really good at it? You could show me all the ways you’re better than I am at following instructions.”

Black doesn’t say anything, but his knuckles whiten where he’s gripping the jar. “Absolutely not.”

“Okay. Whatever you want.” He feels bad about earlier and chooses not to push Black any further. 

Black suddenly stands up and rounds on James. He digs the tip of his wand against James’ collarbone, and James takes a step back. His back collides with his desk, leaving Black leaning over him. Peter looks up, startled.

“Erm, Black?” James asks, his voice tentative. He reaches up and catches Black’s wrist, momentarily distracted by the contrast between the slenderness of the bone and the solid strength in the rest of his arm. The rest spills out in a rush. “You’ve got really nice arms, and normally I wouldn’t mind you pressing against me like this, but we’re in class and this definitely isn’t normal, at least for you. What exactly are you doing?"

“What am I doing?” Black repeats, incredulous. “The better question is, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Nothing?” James replies. “And let go of me—I know you’re dying to get your hands on me, but Slughorn will notice.”

“This is what I’m talking about!” Black nearly yells. “Why the bloody hell are you complimenting all the damn time? You’re supposed to be annoying me, not talking about my fucking hair and my height and my hands! When I pinned you down, you were supposed to hex me or punch me or something, not act as if we—as if we were—”

“What, dating? Fucking? In love? All of the above?” James says mildly. “But I am annoying you, if this situation is anything to go by.” Black groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“Do you want me to hex you?” James asks after a beat, doubtful. “I mean, while it’s fun to rile you up like this, I’d be happy to punch you if you really wanted.” 

“That is not what I—no. ” Black rubs his eyes. “Fuck. You know what? Pettigrew, we’re switching partners for the next potion. I need to teach this one a thing or two about following the rules.”

“There aren’t any rules about how to antagonize you,” James begins. 

“Yes, there bloody well are!” Black snaps, cutting him off. “Like not flirting, for starters! Or complimenting my eyes! Especially when we’ve hated each other since forever!”

Peter speaks up, voice meek, like he doesn’t know whether to be amused or frightened. “Erm, is this supposed to be some kind of foreplay for you guys?”

Black jerks back. James gapes between Black and Peter, heat rising to his face. 

“No,” James rushes to say. “No, we’re not—it’s just a joke. I was trying to see how far I can go to rile him up.”

“Right,” Black scoffs. “You think I’m so stupid I wouldn’t catch on? Contrary to what you may believe, I’m not an idiot. I can think and do things for myself.”

He holds James’ gaze when he says that, and James flushes. Then the moment passes, leaving James with the nagging sense that he’s missed something significant.

~~~

James feels like an arse through the rest of his classes. He can’t unsee the way Black’s expression had closed off at the mention of his parents, the way he had flinched. Remus and Peter aren’t surprised when, all throughout dinner, James keeps looking over to the Slytherin table. James knows he’s like a mother hen to all the people he cares about. Black is hardly someone he can tolerate, much less care about, but even he isn’t ignorant of the Black family’s unorthodox principles of keeping their children in check. He feels terrible about bringing up all that baggage, especially when Black had actually been decent, as far as Slytherins can go. 

He had been laughing. In James’presence. 

Despite what had happened immediately after, James couldn’t help but remember the way his eyes had sparkled the instant before he had laughed, the way his shoulders had loosened with mirth. At that moment, when they had bonded for a brief moment over a mutual dislike for the Black parents, he hadn’t seemed like the irritating menace he had been throughout their Hogwarts years. He had just been a boy, bitter about the control his parents had over his life, and while James hadn’t understood, per se, he could still relate to doing things for the sake of rebelling against his parents. 

And then James had to muck it up. 

He feels responsible for Black’s bad mood as he watches him snap at his brother and friends over at the Slytherin table and later in the halls after dinner. As he makes his way to the Gryffindor tower to get ready for his night’s patrols, he quickly grabs the Marauder’s map before thinking better of it. It would be good to apologize to Black sooner rather than later, he thinks, and ignores the small voice in his head that Black wouldn’t appreciate an apology at all.

He finishes off his assigned rounds as fast as he can, then pulls out the map, his footsteps echoing in the quiet halls. The glow of his wand illuminates his face as he scans the parchment for the dot labeled “Sirius Black.” Finally, he spots it, hovering near one of the abandoned corridors on the seventh floor near the Astronomy Tower. 

“What’s he doing there?” James mutters to himself. A strange unease settles in his stomach. He folds the map and tucks it into his pocket, quickening his pace.

The corridor is dimly lit, the torches on the walls flickering feebly. James slows as he approaches, hearing the faint clinking of glass. Rounding the corner, he spots Black leaning against the wall, a bottle of Firewhisky in hand. His posture is loose, almost careless, but there’s a tension in the line of his shoulders that betrays his mood. His robes hang off his shoulders, the top buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, and stray hairs from his bun frame his face. James swallows, trying to stop the way his heart quickens at the sight of the faint golden light spilling across Black’s disarrayed state. 

“Black?” James calls out cautiously. He tucks the map into his pocket. 

Black looks up, startled, and his eyes narrow. “Head Boy,” he says coolly, tilting the bottle in a mock salute. “What brings you here? Here to give me detention for being out after curfew? Or say something about my butt”

James steps closer, hands shoved into his pockets. “Thought I’d find you,” he says. “I wanted to apologize. But I can compliment your butt, too, if you’d like. It’s unfairly distracting.”

Black looks skeptical, but there’s an amused quirk at the corner of his mouth. “It’s my second-best asset,” he says. “And apologize for what? Letting your mouth run away with you earlier? Don’t bother. It’s not like it’s the first time.”

James winces but presses on. “Yeah, for that. Look, I shouldn’t have brought up your parents. It was out of line.” Then he pauses. “What’s your best asset?”

Black snorts, taking a swig from the bottle. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he murmurs. “Anyway, you’re not wrong about them. They’re bloody nightmares, both of them. But it’s not exactly dinner conversation, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” James admits. “Still, I—” He hesitates, searching for the right words. “I know I don’t understand what it’s like, but… I’ve seen enough to know it’s not easy.”

For a moment, Black just looks at him, the guarded expression on his face cracking ever so slightly. Then he slumps down to sit on the cold stone floor, motioning vaguely for James to join him.

“So you’ve come to play Mind Healer, have you?” he asks, his tone laced with sarcasm. His head tips back to lean against the stone walls, and James turns his gaze forcibly away from the long line of his neck, the sharp curve of his Adam’s apple.

Merlin, what was happening to him? 

He sits beside him, keeping a small distance. “Not exactly,” he says. “But if you feel like talking, I’ll listen.”

Black takes another swig and then sets the bottle down between them. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” James says with a faint smile.

Silence falls between them, stretching long enough that James wonders if he should leave. But then Black speaks, his voice quieter than James has ever heard it.

“They hate me,” he murmurs, staring at the far wall. “Always have. I’m not what they wanted. Not obedient enough, not ambitious enough, not…dark enough. Regulus? He’s the perfect son. Does everything they ask without question. Me? I’m the family disappointment.”

James listens, the weight of Black’s words settling heavily in his chest. “That’s not on you,” he says firmly. “That’s on them. Parents are supposed to, you know, love their kids for who they are, not try to mold them into something they’re not.”

Black lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, that’s not how the Blacks operate. Loyalty to the family above all else. Toujours pur. It doesn’t matter if it breaks you in the process.”

James hesitates, then takes a long pull of Firewhisky. Gathering his courage, he speaks. “My parents—they’re not like that. They’re amazing, honestly. But even then, I’ve felt it sometimes, the pressure to be the perfect son. They’ve wanted a child for years, so I feel like I have to, I don’t know, live up to expectations. It’s nothing like what you’ve been through, but I get it. A little, at least.”

Black takes the bottle from him. “I thought you were the perfect golden boy.” He takes a shuddering breath, then closes his eyes. “When I was younger I actually used to be jealous of how easily you made friends and how happy you always seemed.”

“I am happy,” James says. “And I’m grateful for my friends. But it’s hard to be the ‘perfect golden boy’ all the time. Sometimes I just want to hex someone or scream bloody murder, but I have to keep up the act for others’ sakes. It’s tough. I’m always looking out for others, but not all of them would even think to look out for me. Not that I’d ever ask.” 

Black holds his gaze, something in James’ expression making his eyes soften. “I guess we’re not as different as I thought,” he says, almost grudgingly. He pauses, but then steeling himself, he continues.

“I can’t ask anyone for help either,” he says hesitantly, “I don’t—I’d be in a worse position if they figure out I’ve been speaking about family matters to outside people. And I can’t imagine Regulus in my place. He’s quiet, sure, and he never stands up to them, but at least he’s there. When everything goes to hell, he’s the only one who understands.”

James glances at him, surprised. “Really? I didn’t think you two were close.”

Black’s lips twitch into a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “He’s my little brother. I’d do anything to protect him. And he’s the only one who looks out for me when there’s no one else. We both hate them, our parents. He just better at keeping his head down. It’s like he’s learned to survive by staying silent. I’m not sure if that makes him smart or just cowardly, but, well, it’s Reg. That’s just how he is.”

James nods slowly, understanding dawning on him. “Sounds like he cares about you in his own way.”

“He does,” Black says softly. “And I care about him. I just wish he didn’t have to carry all of this, you know? Wish neither of us did.”

“Maybe you don’t have to,” James offers. “Not alone, anyway.”

Black glances at him, something unreadable in his expression. Then, with a sigh, he inclines his head. “Maybe, Potter.”

“James.”

“What?”

“James,” he repeats. “Call me James. I’ll call you Sirius, if that’s okay?”

Black pauses, considering, then nods. “Okay, uh—James.”

They sit in silence for a while, the Firewhisky forgotten between them. And for the first time, James sees Sirius Black not as a Slytherin or an enemy, but as a boy who’s just as lost and hurt as anyone else. And he realizes that maybe, just maybe, they could be something more than rivals.

~~~

The next morning, History of Magic is as dull as ever. James strolls into the classroom, his usual confident swagger intact, but instead of heading to his seat beside Remus and Peter, he veers off. He makes a beeline for Sirius, who’s slumped in his chair at the far end of the room, looking decidedly worse for wear.

Remus and Peter exchange glances as James drops into the seat next to Sirius without preamble.

“What are you doing?” Sirius mutters, his voice low and gravelly, as though he’s nursing a hangover—which, James realizes with some satisfaction, he probably is.

“Spying on you, obviously,” James quips with a grin, loud enough for Remus and Peter to hear. “Can’t let a Slytherin out of my sight.”

Peter chuckles, apparently buying the excuse, but Remus just raises an eyebrow, his sharp gaze cutting straight through James’ bravado.

Sirius rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest further. He’s too distracted, his usual immaculate appearance slightly ruffled. His hair is less polished than usual, and while he still looks more put-together than James on any given day, there’s a weariness in his eyes that makes James pause.

“You look like hell,” James whispers, leaning closer.

Sirius glares at him. “Thanks for the observation, Potter. Very helpful. What happened to my beautiful eyes and hair?”

“They drowned in last night’s Firewhisky,” James says, fishing a small vial out of his pocket. He slides it across the desk. “Sober up potion. You’re welcome.”

Sirius hesitates, then snatches the vial and downs it in one gulp. He grimaces at the taste but says nothing, his posture straightening slightly as the potion takes effect.

“Don’t mention it,” James says, smirking. Cheekily, he adds, “Now you look like your usual hot self.” Sirius rolls his eyes again, but he looks pleased.

The two of them spend the first half of the lesson ignoring Professor Binns’ droning voice entirely. Instead, they pass notes back and forth, the parchment quickly filling with a mix of sarcastic commentary and idle chatter.

At one point, James mentions how he practices Quidditch during any free time he can find, juggling it with his Head Boy duties and NEWT preparations.

Sirius scribbles back, his handwriting perfectly even and neat. Must be nice. Slytherins aren’t usually welcome on the pitch unless it’s for reserved practice hours or games.

James reads the note, his jaw tightening. He scribbles furiously in response. That’s bollocks. The pitch should be for everyone. You should come flying with me sometime.

Sirius glances at the note, his expression unreadable. Then, to hide whatever emotion flickers across his face, he writes back, I’m busy. There’s a pause before he jots down, But maybe. Later this week.

James beams at the reply, his mood lifting instantly. Sirius glances at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement at James’ obvious delight.

“What’s got you so chipper?” Sirius mutters, though there’s no real bite in his tone.

“Oh, nothing,” James whispers back, still grinning. “Just thinking about how much I’m going to show you up on the pitch.”

“In your dreams, Potter,” Sirius retorts, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips now.

“Oh, I do much more than that with you in my dreams,” James says with a wink. Sirius looks away, flushing.

When the lesson finally ends, James rejoins Remus and Peter as they head out of the classroom. Sirius takes a different direction, his gait more composed than it had been earlier.

“Alright,” Remus says as soon as Sirius is out of earshot. “What the fuck was that about?”

James shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Just keeping an eye on him. You know, for strategic purposes.”

Remus gives him a long, unimpressed look. Peter, however, nods earnestly. “Makes sense. Got to keep tabs on the competition.”

James hides a grin as they walk down the corridor, already imagining how satisfying it’ll be to have a proper challenge on the pitch.

~~~

The Quidditch pitch is quiet the night James and Sirius go to play, the lamplight casting shadows on the grass, illuminating the glinting frost, and reflecting the starlight that spills across the grounds. James hovers high above the pitch, his broom swaying gently beneath him as he watches Sirius adjust the straps on his gloves. 

“You ready to get your arse handed to you, Black?” James calls, his grin audible even through the distance.

Sirius mounts his broom, looking up with a smirk that could cut glass. “You fucking wish, Potter. Try to keep up.”

James’ laugh echoes as Sirius kicks off from the ground, soaring up to meet him. The wind tugs at their robes, the chill biting at their faces, but neither pays it any mind. The exhilaration of flying drowns out the cold.

“First to five goals wins,” James announces, flicking his wand to summon a Quaffle from the nearby trunk. It zips into the air, spiraling between them as if eager for the match to begin.

Sirius snatches it mid-flight, spinning his broom with a graceful twist that makes something warm spool inside James’ belly. “That’s one for me already,” Sirius taunts, his voice ringing with playful arrogance.

“Oh, it’s on,” James growls, diving after him.

The game is fast and brutal. Sirius weaves through the air with an agility that James can’t help but admire, his broom a blur as he dodges and ducks, keeping the Quaffle tantalizingly out of reach. But James is relentless, his competitive streak burning as brightly as the lanterns lining the pitch.

They clash near the goalposts, James’ broom edging perilously close to Sirius’. Sirius laughs, sharp and wild, as he swerves just in time to avoid a collision. He tosses the Quaffle toward the hoop with a flick of his wrist, but James intercepts it with a well-timed dive.

“Not so fast, Black,” James crows, tucking the Quaffle under his arm and rocketing toward the opposite goal.

Sirius chases him, the sound of his broom slicing through the air close behind. “That’s all you’ve got?” he calls, though his breath comes heavier now.

“Just warming up,” James shoots back, grinning as he swerves and hurls the Quaffle through the hoop.

They trade goals back and forth. Sirius’ form is impeccable; his turns are sharp, his throws precise. But James has the advantage of instinct, his ability to anticipate Sirius’ moves honed through years of playing against the best. By the time the score is tied at four each, both are panting, their breaths misting in the frigid air.

“Next goal wins,” James says, his voice tinged with exhilaration and exhaustion.

Sirius’ eyes glint with determination. “You’re going down, Potter.”

The Quaffle hovers between them, pulsing slightly as if sensing the tension. They stare each other down, brooms poised, before launching forward simultaneously. The Quaffle shoots upward, and they collide mid-air in their scramble to grab it. Sirius’ shoulder slams into James, but James holds firm, his hand closing around the ball.

“Not today!” James yells, pulling into a steep dive. Sirius is right on his tail, the distance between their brooms almost negligible. The goalposts loom ahead, but Sirius isn’t about to let him have the victory so easily.

With a final burst of speed, Sirius lunges, his fingertips grazing the Quaffle. It slips from James’ grasp, spiraling toward the ground. Both dive after it, the world a blur as they race for the ball. At the last second, Sirius reaches out, snatching the Quaffle and rolling to the side to avoid a crash.

He straightens, laughing triumphantly as he tosses the Quaffle through the hoop. “And that’s how it’s done,” he declares, his grin wide and smug.

James lands beside him, shaking his head but smiling despite himself. “You got lucky.”

Sirius’ laugh is softer this time. “Admit it, Potter. I’m the better player.”

“Never,” James replies, though there is no venom in his tone. He holds out a hand. “Good game.”

Sirius shakes it, his grip firm. “Yeah. It was.”

They stand there for a moment, the rivalry between them softened by the shared exhilaration of the match. The frost-covered pitch stretches around them, silent and still, as the adrenaline begins to fade. James looks over at Sirius, his hair a windswept mess, his cheeks flushed from exertion, and feels a warmth that has nothing to do with the exercise.

“Want to go somewhere?” he asks impulsively, his voice light but his gaze tentative. 

Sirius frowns. “Somewhere else? It’s nearly curfew, and I thought Head Boys were supposed to enforce rules, not break them.”

James’ eyes sparkle with mischief. “What’s the point of being Head Boy if I can’t use my power to bend the rules every now and then?”

Sirius’ lips quirk. “Are you saying you’re a bad influence, Potter?”

“Oh, the worst,” James replies, winking. He notices with satisfaction the faint flush creeping up Sirius’ cheeks, though he tells himself it’s probably just the cold. Probably.

Sirius huffs but falls into step beside him. “Alright, then. Lead the way, troublemaker.”

James leads him through the castle, weaving through shadowed corridors until they reach the entrance to a secret passageway behind a statue of a one-eyed witch. Sirius’ eyebrows rise as James mutters the password and reveals the hidden staircase.

“Well, would you look at that,” Sirius says, breathing a laugh. “A secret passage? How in the name of Salazar did you find this?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret passageway if everyone knew where to find them all,” James teases. 

“There’s more? ” Sirius exclaims. 

“Plenty,” James says smugly. “I’d love to show you more sometime.”

Sirius gives him a sidelong glance, but a faint smile tugs at his lips. “You’re full of surprises.”

They emerge in Hogsmeade, the village eerily quiet and coated in frost. Honeydukes is dark, but James has a way in, and soon they’re rummaging through shelves of sweets. Sirius surprises James by grabbing handfuls of sugar quills and chocolate frogs, stuffing them into his pockets with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“You’re like a kid,” James teases, laughing as Sirius drops a handful of gold onto the counter.

“Shut it, Potter,” Sirius says through a mouthful of candy, but he’s smiling. “Everyone has their vices.” 

As they make their way back to Hogwarts, Sirius’ pace slows. “Potter—James,” he says. “Thank you for tonight. I had fun.”

James smiles. “Me too.” 

Sirius watches him carefully, then closes the distance between them to kiss him softly. 

James jerks back, staring at him in shock. “What—what are you doing?”

Sirius’ face colors. “Is this not what you wanted?” 

“No!” The word comes out before James can process the question. “Wait, what? No—I mean—”

Sirius laughs humorlessly and takes a step back. “Fuck off, Potter.” His glare is cold, mask slipping back onto his face to hide his emotions, but James can see real hurt behind his eyes. James opens his mouth to try and explain when Sirius talks over him. “Was it all for revenge?” he asks, waving a hand between them. “Try to out the Black heir as gay? See what it would take to get into my pants?”  His voice gets smaller as he speaks. “Well, congratulations, Head Boy, you’ve humiliated me enough.”

“Of course not!” James manages to get out. His heart is racing. “Of course that wasn’t what I was trying to do!”

“Then what were you trying to do?” Sirius snaps, glaring. “‘Your robes make your arse look fantastic, Black, and I really like your eyes,’” he mocks. His voice cracks as he continues, “‘You don’t need to be so alone anymore because you have me.’ Everyone thinks you’re the saint of Gryffindor, but you’re a right arsehole, you know that? You make me sick.” 

“I meant all of that!” James exclaims.

 Sirius spins around, his eyes blazing with something James can’t quite decipher—anger, fear, hope, maybe all three. “You’re a bloody fucking liar,” he says. “Because you just said you didn’t.”

“I do,” James insists, his hands shaking slightly as he gestures between them. “I’m sorry. You took me by surprise and I blurted it out without thinking. Of course I like you. As a friend, obviously, but I also like you as more than that. I would’ve run away screaming if I didn’t.”

Sirius exhales sharply, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The silence stretches, filled only with the sound of their breaths mingling in the cold night air. Sirius looks at James, really looks at him, as if trying to find the catch, the hidden joke, the reason not to believe him. But all he sees is honesty, open and raw.

“I hate this,” Sirius finally says, though his voice lacks the venom it usually carries. “I hate that you make me feel like this.”

James steps even closer, close enough that their shoulders nearly touch. “And how’s that?”

Sirius hesitates, his jaw tightening. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Like I matter.”

The admission hangs between them, heavy and fragile. James feels his chest tighten, the weight of Sirius’ words almost unbearable in their sincerity. Without thinking, he reaches out, his fingers brushing against Sirius’. “You do,” he murmurs. “You matter, Sirius. So, so much.”

Sirius looks down at their hands, then up at James, his expression conflicted. “You’re going to regret this,” he says, but there’s no malice in his tone—just a quiet, lingering doubt.

James smiles, lopsided and genuine. “Not a chance.” Then cheekily, he adds, “I wasn’t able to enjoy the last experience as much as I should have, so may I kiss you again?”

“Are you saying you’re a better kisser than I am?”

“Your words, not mine,” James murmurs, then moves, closing the gap between them in one swift motion. His lips crash against Sirius, fierce and desperate, as if trying to convey all the things he can’t put into words. Sirius responds just as eagerly, his hands coming up to cup James’ face, grounding them both in the intensity of the moment.

When they finally pull apart, both are breathless, their foreheads pressed together. Sirius’ eyes are dark, but there’s a softness in them now that James hasn’t seen before.

“You’re insufferable,” Sirius mutters, though there’s no heat behind it.

James laughs, his thumb brushing lightly against Sirius’ cheek. “And you’re impossible. Guess we make a good pair, huh?”

Sirius huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “We’ll see.”

But the way his lips pull into the barest hint of a smile feels like a promise James is determined to keep.

~~~

By the next morning, nothing about Sirius and James has outwardly changed. At breakfast, they sit at their respective tables, Sirius laughing at something Regulus mutters under his breath while James launches a piece of toast at Peter for eating the last sausage.

But in the moments in between, when no one else is looking, James catches Sirius’ eye from across the Hall. It’s only for a second, but the corner of Sirius’ mouth quirks up in a small, knowing smile that makes James’ heart stutter in a way he’ll never admit.

They’re careful, of course. Sirius keeps his distance in public, maintaining his sharp tongue and impenetrable facade among his housemates. James plays the part of the Head Boy perfectly, breaking up scuffles and charming professors with his easy grin. Yet, when the corridors are empty or the nights grow still with promise, they find each other.

It’s during one of those moments, tucked into the shadows of the Astronomy Tower, that Sirius presses James against the cold stone wall. James’ hands slide up Sirius’ back, pulling him closer, and for a while, they forget the world outside.

“This is mad,” Sirius whispers when they finally break apart, his forehead resting against James’. He looks at James with a mix of frustration and something softer, something he can’t quite put into words. “If anyone finds out—”

“No one will,” James cuts in, his voice low but sure. His hands rest on Sirius’ waist, steadying him. “And even if they did, I wouldn’t care.”

Sirius snorts, though there’s no real humor in it. “You’re Gryffindor’s golden boy, Potter. You can’t afford to be seen sneaking around with me.”

James tilts his head, his grin softening into something almost tender. “Maybe I don’t care about what they’d think. Maybe I care more about this.”

For a moment, Sirius doesn’t reply. He just looks at James, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he leans in again, his lips brushing against James with a deliberate slowness that sends a shiver down his spine.

~~~

One evening, they meet in an unused classroom near the dungeons. Sirius is leaning against a desk, his arms crossed, watching the door with a practiced indifference that vanishes the moment James slips inside.

“You’re late,” Sirius says, but his tone lacks its usual bite.

“Got held up with patrols,” James replies, shutting the door quietly behind him. He grins as he steps closer, his hands finding their way to Sirius’ hips. “Miss me?”

Sirius rolls his eyes, but there’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

James leans in, his lips brushing against Sirius’ ear. “Too late.”

~~~

It isn’t always easy. There are days when Sirius withdraws, the weight of everything—his family, the expectations, the constant mask he has to wear—bearing down on him. Those are the days James finds him in the empty classroom on the third floor, sitting on the windowsill and staring out at the grounds.

“Sickle for your thoughts?” James asks one afternoon, his voice gentle as he approaches.

Sirius doesn’t look at him. “You don’t have enough sickles, Potter.”

James doesn’t push. Instead, he sits beside Sirius, their shoulders brushing as they watch the sun dip below the horizon. After a while, Sirius speaks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it? Hiding like this.”

James turns to him, his eyes soft. “Maybe. But if it means I get to have this—to have you—I don’t mind.”

For a moment, Sirius says nothing. Then he reaches out, his fingers brushing against James’. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but it’s enough.

Sirius-- the one James can't stop staring at, the first one in the room, the one who keeps almost touching him and then stopping himself-- introduces everyone. He tells James as he does it, that he doesn't expect him to remember, he just wants to make him feel less like he's surrounded by strangers.

People are talking, about nothing in particular, just talking to keep him company, and James appreciates it. He wants to pay attention to all these people that care about him, but his eyes keep getting drawn back to Sirius. He does his best not to make it obvious, but he gets caught.

"Come on, everyone, time to get lost," Fabian says. "We should give him and Sirius some time alone. Even without his memories he knows who's most important."

Everyone laughs companionably and James blushes, but people file out of the room like it's no big deal, bidding him well and promising to come back if he's there much longer.

When the door closes, leaving the two of them alone, James clears his throat uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to stare."

"I don't mind," Sirius says with a smirk.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you're... most important to me."

"Yeah," Sirius says easily. He laughs at James's expression. "We've been best mates for ages. We were in the same dormitory at school, and when we graduated, we moved in together. Never separated since. Everyone knows I'm the most important person to you. People we don't even know, know that about us."

James tries to form an opinion about that, but before he gets the chance, Sirius is walking towards the door.

"I'm going to talk to your doctor, see when you get to leave. I know you don't like being cooped up."

James nods dumbly, and then Sirius is gone with a wink. 'Most important person'. And everyone knows it. What sort of person is James, when he has all his memories? Does he wear his heart on his sleeve? Or is he more reserved but nice to everyone? And he has to be nice to people, if he has so many friends. Maybe he has a lot of friends, but Sirius is the only one he's close to.

He's eaten up with questions about his past. The doctors claim his memories will come back soon, but when he asked when 'soon' is, they said it could be a matter of hours or a week. What sort of person is he? What sort of person is Sirius? When everyone was visiting, they mentioned him going back to work-- what is his work? Is he dating anyone? Where does he even live? He has no idea where home is, much less what it looks like.

If he is dating someone, they didn't make themselves known while visiting.

James groans, slipping off his glasses and pressing his palms against his eyes. It sort of aches, and he wonders why the hell he did it, if it hurts. Muscle memory, that's what the doctor called it. He's not sure he likes this muscle memory. He puts his glasses back on and waits for Sirius to return.

*

Sirius, James learns, is fucking adorable. When James gets upset about not having his memories back yet, Sirius makes him breakfast in bed. When that fails to cheer him up, he takes him flying. When James refuses to get on the broom because, "I don't have my memories, I'm going to get hurt," he takes him on his motorbike instead. For some reason, the prospect doesn't scare him like the broom did, and he thinks it's because Sirius is the one in charge of the bike. Sirius, at least, has all his memories and knows what he's doing. James isn't going to count on muscle memory saving him all on his own-- Sirius laughed when he said this, and said that he'd have to remember it as the only time in James's life where he didn't want to be on a broom; instead of being upset at the difference between James without his memories and James with his memories, he's just amused. James likes that it doesn't upset him. He likes it when Sirius is happy.

He likes just about everything about Sirius. He likes his laugh and how he cooks and the way he winks at James all the time, and he likes most of all that even though Sirius must miss the James he is when he has his memories, he doesn't treat James like a stranger.

"Am I much like myself?" James asks, after two days home from the hospital. He's counting down the days until his memories have to return-- the week long mark is a beacon to him. He was in the hospital for one day, home for two, only four more until he can be himself again. But he feels like himself now, even without his memories. Is it even possible to not feel like himself? But he wants to know what Sirius thinks. He always wants to know what Sirius thinks; he wonders if that's a holdover from his memories that couldn't be erased, or if Sirius really is that fascinating. His guess, of course, is that it's just the wonder that is Sirius Black.

"Aside from not wanting to fly, I'd say you're exactly yourself," Sirius laughs.

"Don't joke, I want to know," James says, even though he enjoys hearing that laugh.

Sirius shrugs, easy as anything. He looks so comfortable in his own skin. "You're unsure of yourself. You hesitate now where normally you wouldn't. You don't remember certain details. That's pretty much it. You're still you, James. Your heart's the same as it's always been. You're still curious about what you don't know."

"I thought that was because I lost my memories."

"Nah, the world is a mystery and you like it that way; it means there's something new around every corner."

Huh. James... likes that. He looks at Sirius, focuses on the way his smile curves and plumps his cheek, the sparkle in his eyes, the sweep of hair across his forehead, and wonders if he's been in love with him for very long, or if it's something new he's feeling. Either way, he likes it. Loving Sirius feels easy.

*

James wakes up, giggles to himself, and crawls out of bed to go join Sirius.

Sirius half-wakes when the bed shifts. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Got my memories back," James whispers. He pecks Sirius's cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Mmph."

*

"So, memories back?" Sirius says the next morning.

"Yep. You want to know what's funny?" James asks, a grin splitting his face.

"What?"

"Before I got my memories back, I was already falling in love with you again."

"Aw, you love me."

"I know you all think it's a bad idea-" god knows they've all told her at length "-but I'm going to go ahead and ask. The worst thing he can do is say no." That's the worst case, and it's not bad. And she doesn't think it's likely, so.

"It's your funeral, girl."

"I think you're crazy for asking out anyone. Isn't that the boy's job?"

Lily rolls her eyes. They're so dramatic. She's asked out someone before and she didn't die from it.

*

James blinks at her owlishly behind his glasses.

For the first time, she doubts her decision. It's not (just) that he isn't answering right away, it's that he's looking at her like that. He's looking at her like this is a complete surprise, one that's taken him off guard so completely that he's in a rare moment of silence.

"Erm."

"I take it that's a no," Lily says, trying to be casual about it. Heat rises in her cheeks in embarrassment and she curses her fair skin for how visible it must be. Damn it, she was so sure that James was into her.

"Yeah, sorry," he says dazedly.

It's impossible to take James Potter off-guard, this much, she knows. She has to take advantage of this moment while she can, so she's going to see if she can find out the why. Why is he saying no and-- more importantly-- why was everyone so certain this would be the outcome? "Mind if I ask why not?"

"Huh?"

"You were flirting," she says, not accusing, just pointing it out. "I thought you were interested."

"I'm- taken, that's all."

"Taken?" She hasn't seen any girl hanging around him, just those three mates of his. Is he lying to try and make her feel better? She's not a fan of that. "There's no way you're taken."

He blinks at her again, still looking taken off-guard. "I'm married, actually."

"Married? No way in hell you're married. We're still in school, and you spend all your time with Black-"

"He's a Potter now," James interrupts quickly, almost angry. Then he goes pale. "Erm, I don't- I mean-" He's starting to panic, so she cuts in, guilt gathering in a lump in her stomach for pushing; she never meant to make him feel bad, she just wanted answers. If she'd known, she wouldn't have pushed. But, well, if she'd known, then... It was an imperfect situation, and she was uncomfortable for her part in it.

"Relax, I won't tell anyone," she assures him.

"If anyone found out-"

"They won't," Lily says simply. For her, it is that simple. She's friends with a few girls here, but she wouldn't describe them as close. She's certainly not close enough with anyone to tell them a secret like this. And they're only really 'friends' in the sense that they get along alright and they don't tell her to get lost.

He looks at her, assessing her sincerity. There's that bit of panic clinging to the edges of him, but there's also a forced calm. She understands, in that moment, why some people are wary-- scared, almost-- of him. He's... intense. In control. He breathes out, and that hint of danger vanishes with it. "Good. We were going to tell people, but- well, it'll just be easier if we wait until we're out of Hogwarts."

"I understand completely. But maybe stop flirting so much with other people? I thought you were interested, it's the only reason I pushed."

James's mouth twists, almost a smirk but lacking the humor. "Yeah, Sirius warned me that might be the case."

"How long have you two been...?" Lily trails off.

The look James gives her then is purely incredulous. "We're not friends, Evans. Why would I talk to you about it?"

Gryffindor, house of the brave, she reminds herself. She can take a chance here. "I don't really have friends." It hurts to admit-- and she can feel her cheeks heat-- but it's the truth. "I figure why not try with you?"

"You just asked me on a date," he points out.

"Yeah, because you're cute and you flirted with me, it's not like I'm in love with you. Come on," she whines, unashamed to be whining because she wants something good to come from this embarrassing confrontation instead of walking away empty-handed. "What do you have to lose by being friends with me?"

"I already have friends," he says, bewildered. 

"Yeah, so what's one more?"

He blinks at her, she's afraid he's going to give a firm no, and then he cracks a grin and starts laughing. "Sure, Evans. We can be friends. But if Sirius doesn't like you, you're gone."

"He'll like me," she says, willing it to be true.

*

"You'll never guess what just happened," James says the second him and Sirius are alone. Sirius is lounging on James's bed, and James is standing, walking back and forth across the room for something to do while they talk.

"Hm?"

"First, promise you won't get mad. The situation's handled."

Sirius raises an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

"Evans knows about us."

"Evan Rosier?" he says, sitting up straight. "That sounds like a cause for panic, what the hell were you thinking-"

"No, not Evan, Evans, Lily Evans, Gryffindor."

"Oh." He lays back down. "She won't tell?"

"She won't tell," James promises. He walks over and lays down next to him, fingers tapping Sirius's chest with nervous energy. "She asked me out, and when she asked why, I sort of told her we were married."

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, in that way that means he knows there's more to it.

"Anyway, she asked if we could be friends, and I said sure, but only if you liked her too. So, thoughts on Evans?"

"She's alright," he shrugs. "Not sure I like her knowing we're married, though. How'd that happen, anyways? It's not like you'd say it flat out."

James snickers. "Hello, I'm James, this is my husband, Sirius. What's your name?" He pecks a kiss to Sirius's cheek after he says 'husband'; it makes Sirius laugh. "Nah, she called you Black, and I corrected her without thinking. It was a stupid mistake."

Stupid, but sweet. It makes Sirius's heart grow, just hearing it. The change of his last name is official, but that doesn't mean they told anyone but the Potter's about it-- not even the professors know, since when they started this school year, his name was still Black. The NEWT's will get his name right, and that's all that matters right now. Plus... it feels good. He likes that someone else knows. It's dangerous, and if Lily talks, they're screwed for the rest of the school year, but he likes it. He's wanted to be Mr. Potter since practically the moment he met James. Keeping it a secret is necessary, but that doesn't mean he likes it. He wants to shout it at people as they pass by. He wants everyone to look at him and know what family he belongs to, but he wants that to happen in the future. Lily knowing, right now, is scary. But she says she'll keep it a secret, and all he can do is hope that she's telling the truth.

"He's got time to learn. And it's only been a day. Maybe he's intimidated by you or something. How's your mum acting weird, anyway? Is it because you didn't go to the funeral?"

"I dunno." That would be a plausible explanation, but he's not sure that's it. She sent a Howler when he didn't show, and that's usually enough to get it out of her system. Sirius chews on his lip as he tries to think of an example. "Just off. Like when you tell a joke and they do laugh but there's a pause that shouldn't be there. It's not something you can put your finger on, but you can sense it."

"I think I know what you mean, but your mother is kind of always like that to me." His head turns, listening to something Sirius can't catch, then he's waving goodbye. "Mum's calling me, got to go. Remember to ask your mum when you can come spend the night. I miss you."

"I'll ask her first thing. Love you."

"Love you too." James presses a smacking kiss to the mirror that makes Sirius laugh, and then he's gone.

Sirius heads to his room and cleans up a bit. Merlin, did his mum tell Kreacher to not clean his room while he was at Hogwarts? He didn't pay it any mind last night because he was tired, but there's a layer of dust that shouldn't be here. Come to think of it, Kreacher didn't make dinner last night, either. Has he seen Kreacher at all since he's been back? There's no way he died; Mother would've been more upset about that than her husband, and he would've heard about it.

What probably happened is that she got pissed when Sirius told her where she could shove her plans for his future and told Kreacher to not do things for him. It would explain the room, and if he's not supposed to do things for Sirius, then avoiding him is the best route. Damn it. That does sound like something she'd do. Sirius sighs and settles in for a deeper clean than he planned, because who knows how long it's been? 

His housekeeping spells are a bit shoddy but he does alright. He unpacks, switches out the photo in the picture frame by his bed. It goes from one photo of him and James to a different photo of him and James. The pictures look so similar, he notes. They took it at the same part of Hogwarts, but it hadn't been on purpose, so there's the same archway, flowers, even the same family of birds. The only thing that looks different about it is the signs of aging, losing just that more baby fat and getting taller. Their smiles are the same, though.

"Oh shit," he says after seeing the time. He almost missed dinner.

Or at least that's what he thought until he gets downstairs and doesn't see anyone. Nothing on the table, no one in the seats. "Mum? Regulus? Mum?" Nothing. "Kreacher?" Still nothing. He frowns. That's odd. "Mum?" he calls again, checking the sitting room. When he finds no one, he throws up his hands. Guess it's just him for dinner. He heads to the basement-- that's where the good stuff is. A nice cut of meat, a bottle of wine...

He opens the door, and there's the nearly imperceptible pop of a silencing charm being broken followed by screams. "What the-" Sirius races down the stairs, eyes widening in horror at what he sees. Between one breath and the next, his wand is in his hand and he stuns his mother. She collapses, the spell lifting off Regulus simultaneously. Regulus is gasping for breath, the effort interrupted too often with sobs and whines of pain. "It's okay, it's okay," Sirius promises, although he doesn't know how it's going to be okay since their mother seems to have lost her fucking mind and there's no one here for him to ask for help.

When Sirius picks him up, Regulus clings to him, small hands fisted in his robes with a strength he shouldn't have. He figures that out when he tries to put Regulus down so he can re-pack what he just unpacked and can't get him free. There's no time to find a better solution, so he shifts to holding him with one arm and has his wand in the other. It's a hack-job of packing, but his room is in his bag, and that's what's important. He goes to Regulus's room-- in a poor state of disrepair, really what happened to Kreacher?-- and does the same there. 

Regulus's tears are silent now, but there's still the occasional gasp of pain as Sirius moves. This is more than the Cruciatus Curse at work. He needs a healer, but Sirius can hardly show up at St. Mungo's like this. He's not an adult, and Regulus is so young that they'd insist on calling Walburga in which would just make matters worse. He needs- James. Yes, that's true, he needs James. James is good at healing spells and knows more of them than Sirius does, and although he never planned on taking the Potter's up on their offer, they'd long since told Sirius that he was welcome there anytime.

He isn't looking forward to going through the floo holding someone, but he doesn't have a lot of options right now. Regulus is too shaken to use the floo on his own, and he won't let go of Sirius to try. 

He grabs a handful of floo powder, steps inside... and then is ejected back into the room at Grimmauld Place. "Bugger," he mutters. Mum must've closed the floo. Why would she do that? It made no bloody sense- but then he can't expect her to make sense at all right now, since hurting Regulus is also senseless. Why would she...? Just why?

The floo isn't an option. He doesn't have money for the Knight Bus ever since Mum stopped giving him an allowance when he was thirteen. He doesn't know how to take a Muggle bus, much less if it could get him from Grimmauld Place to the Potter's house. That leaves flying, he realises with a grimace. There are brooms in the cupboard under the stairs and he grabs one. He's not fond of flying and he's never done it with a passenger before, but he has no other choice.

"We have to fly, and then we'll get you some help, okay?"

Regulus gives no response. Shit.

Sirius doesn't think about much as he flies. Mostly he's worried about Regulus falling off the broom if he suddenly decides to let go of Sirius's robes, and the rest of his thoughts are occupied with wondering if James will be happy to see him or just stressed out. 

He doesn't give any thought to how it'll look to the Potter's when they open the door and see him holding a shaky six year old, asking for help, but then he's stood there, looking at them as they take in the sight he makes, and it occurs to him that calling James on the mirror wouldn't have gone amiss.

*

After a hundred different healing and diagnostic spells-- who knew Mrs. Potter trained to be a healer after Hogwarts?-- Regulus is doing better and is asleep. Of course, he's asleep on Sirius's lap, so even though all he wants is to curl up on top of James, he can't. Mr. and Mrs. Potter are in the other dining room, discussing what to do from here. Sirius thinks his mother must be under the influence of a spell, but he knows they don't believe that. Whether she is or not, she won't be able to take care of Regulus any time soon-- even if she could, there's no way Regulus would want to go back. And Sirius doesn't want to be in the house with her either.

"What are you thinking?" James asks. He keeps his voice down to not wake up Regulus. Sirius does the same when he responds.

"That this is fucked."

"Yeah. Bit of an understatement," James says with a grimace. "That stuff I said on the mirror-"

Sirius shakes his head, cutting him off. "You couldn't know. No one could've guessed my mum would turn barmy overnight." He glances towards the door to the dining room, hoping that something will slip through from the Potter's conversation and he'll know what they're thinking.

"What do you think will happen?" James asks, following the direction of his thoughts.

"I dunno," he replies, but it's a lie. Barely a second later, he adds, "Emancipation for me. Housing Regulus with the closest relative willing to take him in. Cygnus and Druella won't do it, they said they were done being around kids after me." And they meant it. "Bellatrix would, except she doesn't want any kids. Andromeda's next in line, and she'll say yes, unless Ted has some problem with it. So I guess I find somewhere to stay, and he goes off with Andromeda."

"If you're emancipated, couldn't you take him in?"

"Legally that would work, but we've still got Hogwarts."

"Stay here."

Sirius stares at him. He wants to and hopes more than anything that it's offered to him officially, but... "Your parents-"

"Would let you. Mum and Dad adore you. This is probably what they're talking about in there. C'mon, you know they wanted more than one kid. After tonight, they might have two more, and they’ll be bloody thrilled."

*

Several years later

"We're summoned to Hogwarts," Sirius says.

"Again?"

"Yep. What do you think he did this time?"

"Nothing worth us getting dragged up there," James groans. "We got up to all sorts when we were in school, and they only called our parents in once. Regulus isn't half as bad as we were."

"Yeah, well we didn't get caught."

James blinks, thinking that over. "I forgot that bit," he says candidly, making Sirius laugh. "He's in Slytherin, shouldn't he be better at sneaking around?"

"Yeah, I asked him about that, apparently it's a myth. Snape was not the best sample to base the rest on, he says. Or he's playing the long game and lying to me, but I really think they don't care as much as we thought."

"Huh." James looks like his entire worldview has changed. Sirius remembers having the same reaction when Regulus told him. It's made Sirius wonder why Slytherin has the terrible reputation because they largely don't break the rules, but Gryffindors are viewed as better when they broke the rules, often just to see if they can get away with it.

They floo over to Hogwarts, and Professor Dumbledore is there to greet them. "I hope this didn't interrupt anything important."

"It's fine," James says.

"Do you want to tell us what this is about before we get in there?" Sirius asks, loping his arm through James's as they walk. 'Disgustingly domestic' is what Regulus calls them, and Sirius is happy to keep proving him correct.

People say that Regulus is in his 'rebellious phase'; Sirius doesn't believe it. He's not rebelling and he's not acting out, he's having fun. Experimenting, even. Loosing five dozen roosters in the Great Hall sounds hilarious, and Sirius is sorry they didn't think of it when they were in school. And the hair dye thing? Completely harmless. Giving all the house elves twelve hours off made Sirius lose his composure laughing-- something he tried not to do while in the office being told about it-- but Regulus wanted to see what would happen to the running of the castle without them. Freeing the hippogriff in Care of Magical Creatures was an accident, so it hardly counts, even though he got detention for it.

There's a wide range of possibilities, and Sirius doesn't know which kind they're expecting today.

"I'm afraid it's a rather delicate matter. Mr. Black has asked that you not be told anything without him in the room, and given the nature of this... incident, I agreed."

James and Sirius share a worried look, and they're thinking the same thing: we're too young to be raising a teenager. Wasn't it just yesterday they were walking these halls themselves? That feels like the truth, but simultaneously, it was a lifetime ago. Sirius is only ten years older than Regulus, but shortly after graduating Hogwarts, Mr. and Mrs. Potter had died, leaving them alone with the responsibility of raising him. They asked for help from Andromeda where they could, but she had her own child to raise, and their schedules were never so aligned that they could ask for her assistance at the drop of a hat.

When Sirius finds a massive nest of snakes in his bed, James helps him clean it up without a second thought-- though he, like Sirius, isn't thrilled about picking up so many snakes. They're both visibly nervous about it and pretending otherwise, and neither one pokes fun; if they both pretend that it doesn't bother them, maybe that makes it true. When ink explodes in his bag, coating everything in it and ruining his homework, James is right there beside him, telling the professors that he completed it and shouldn't be punished. When one shoe of every pair in his wardrobe goes missing, James lends him a pair of his own.

It goes on and on, these things charitably called 'pranks' by Professor McGonagall. Sirius thinks it's more mean-spirited than that, and while they don't talk about it, he knows James thinks the same. It's not happening to everyone. It's not happening to all the first years or all the Gryffindors, and it's not happening to all so-called blood traitors; it's just him. It's just him, and everyone's in on it except his dormmates, so no one even tries to hide it when they're the guilty party. 

One day-- after cleaning up a bucket of bugs someone dumped on Sirius's head-- James turns to him with a grin, teeth glinting, and says, "I have an idea."

Two hours later, O'Connell and Smith scream and run out of their dormitory, sending Sirius and James into peals of laughter. They don't get detention for it, even when the two fourth years go to Professor McGonagall with their accusations; "It's a harmless prank," she says dismissively, and Sirius likes her more knowing that it's how she responds to everyone, not just him.

"Mission one was a success," James says, chest puffed out in pride of a job well done.

"Mission one?" Sirius asks. "Is this going to be a habit?"

"Of course. We can't let them get away with it, the arseholes."

Peter and some bloke named Remus are the only dormmates in the room with them, and it's obvious they're listening, though they are pretending not to.

"The first one went off without a hitch. We make a good team," James says, elbowing him companionably. "And there's eighty-one more people we need to get. Well- maybe more like sixty?" he amends. He pulls a sheet of parchment out from his bedside table and squints at it. "Some people are on here more than once."

"You kept track?" 

"Of course." 

He's endlessly charmed by that, by how James cares so much about him that he's been keeping track of this from the beginning and never once faltered in believing they'd get revenge one day. Sirius peers over his shoulder at the list; it's not just names. "You wrote down the date?"

"And the offense."

Ink. Shoes. Snakes in bed. Bed is underlined three times. Paint-- red. Maggots. Snake-- one, big. Paint-- black. Dead mice. Black bird. Paint-- green. On and on the list goes, some with details, like the colour of the paint or the location it happened. Sirius skims the whole list and can't think of a single one that's missing. "Wow."

"What do you think-- chronological, or by severity?"

"Random," Sirius decides. "I don't want anyone to know if they're next."

They share a grin, an expression that promises not just revenge, but a puzzle that needs solving-- what exactly they should do for each of these, what will make the punishment equal the crime. They don't have time to plan before supper, which is a shame.

Sirius has it in his head the revenge is how they're going to operate, so he's surprised when-- after a passing upperclassman 'accidentally' spills burning hot soup down his back-- James flings a handful of green beans at their face without a moment's hesitation. Then, apparently deciding that wasn't enough, James throws mashed potatoes, which make a comical splat as it covers their eyes. It's enough to have Sirius laughing, forgetting for a few moments the pain prickling along his back.

As Sirius turns towards the Slytherin table, easily accepting his golden fate, James scowls down at his food. Gods, he's such an arse. Nobody should react this way when James targets them-- despite what he said to professors when caught-- and they certainly shouldn't react this way after years of such treatment. He started back in first year, trying to make the uptight Black heir have a breakdown that there was something he couldn't control and his parents couldn't fix for him; James knew the type on sight and was confident he would succeed with ease. But first year passed with a single negative reaction, and by the time second year came about, he started (for lack of a better word) enjoying the pranks, never caring if they were ultimately harmless like the paint, or mean spirited like he constantly did in third year. Even that time in fifth year, when he Vanished all of Sirius's clothes in the middle of the Great Hall, Sirius laughed, made some sort of joke to the professors about how he couldn't get in trouble for it because it wasn't his fault, then looked right at James as he turned to get new clothes and smirked.

He's infuriating, seemingly going out of his way to show James how much he doesn't care what he tries next. It's a battle of wills that James has been failing since day one, but he refuses to not win in the end. He just needs some new ideas to shake things up. Hell, at this point, he'll take surprising Sirius with what he's done, even if the other man eventually laughs at it.

"I don't suppose you're on the cusp of letting this go?" Peter asks, hoping for the best but with realistic expectations, considering he knows how James is.

In response, James glares at him.

Peter let's out a small sigh and murmurs, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"I'll get him one of these days, you'll see," James says, more than a little tetchy.

"You've gotten him every time," Remus says in confusion. He's working on homework and only caught the last sentence.

"He wants for Black to not have such a good humour about it," Peter explains, then turns back to James. "Which is stupid." Remus tunes them out and goes back to his homework-- either because he doesn't care to try to give James advice that he never listens to, or because he actually needs to concentrate on his homework; it can go both ways with Moony. "Anyone else would talk to a professor, and you'd never be able to make Quidditch practice because you'd be holed up in detention every day of the year. He's built a resilience to you, and this is a good thing. It's keeping you out of trouble." Peter pauses and makes a face. "It's keeping you out of detention," he amends.

James continues to glare across the Great Hall at Sirius Black.

Obsessive seems too kind a word for this.

Over at the Slytherin table, Sirius is also dealing with his friends, he's just having a better time of it than James.

"I don't understand why you put up with any of this," Severus hisses. "You can easily bring this up with your parents and get him punished."

Sirius shrugs and takes a sip of pumpkin juice. "Why make a fuss? It's harmless."

"It's not always this harmless," Magaera points out.

He shrugs again. "It's funny."

"It's humiliating!" she insists.

"Strange that I don't feel very humiliated then, isn't it?"

"Are you... doing this to mess with Potter?" Severus asks.

"Partially."

"And the other parts?" Megaera asks. She's known him too long to let that 'partially' become 'all'.

"I find the attention flattering, and it's rather amusing. He's spent the entirety of our school years trying to find something that will make me mad. He still does well in his classes, but imagine what he could do if he took that drive and applied it elsewhere."

Severus's mouth curls. It's almost funny how much he hates James Potter. James hasn't been nice to him, to be sure, but everything that Sirius lets roll off of him, Severus takes personally. "He seems to do well enough in Quidditch with his attention diverted."

Megaera scoffs. "Why do you care about Quidditch so much? None of us play, and we only go to the matches so we have something fun to do." Megaera and Sirius have fun at the matches, at least. Their other friend seems to hate them but shows up to every single one anyways.

Severus scowls further, and Sirius laughs and responds for him. "He only cares because Potter does so well in it."

"Seriously?" Megaera asks, raising an eyebrow at Severus.

"No, it's..." he struggles to think of a good lie and lands on "...House loyalty."

Sirius and Megaera give identical hums of skepticism, and she turns from the question of Quidditch to go back to the prank that started this. "I know you said cleaning it magically didn't work, but do you think a shower will help?"

"Probably, but I don't have time before tonight."

"I have makeup. We can try it where it hit your skin?"

"I'm not bothered," Sirius laughs.

"That's because you're barmy," Severus mutters, under his breath but loud enough for them to hear.

That's where the thread of conversation ends and they begin talking about their first class: Potions.

Sirius's mind lingers on the topic of James, though. His friends won't stop speaking to him or something equally ludicrous if he tells them that he fancies James, but they will look at him like he's sprouted a second head. Easy acceptance is not a possibility-- not that he's going to let that stop him from making a move before the end of their Hogwarts years. 

He's known for a while that he fancies James. It seems to him that James fancies him as well, otherwise how could he explain all these pranks? Most people think it's because Sirius gets under his skin, and he agrees with that except what the definition of 'gets under his skin' is. James seems incapable of not thinking about him, needing to poke and prod to make sure he always has Sirius's attention. He does. Sirius thought it was obvious, even if he tried to mask it from being clear to first years. He can't help but be enchanted by the everything that makes up James Potter.

*

"Does that even count as a prank?" Peter asks skeptically. He's squinting across the Hall, as if closing his eyes will help bring the scene into focus. Flowers rained down on Sirius. It doesn't feel like a prank, and he has no idea how it can possibly be justified as one. Maybe if he tilts his head a little it will suddenly make sense?

But James says, "Yes, of course it counts."

"Uh-huh, how's that?"

"Roses are his least favourite flower."

"How do you even know that?" Remus asks.

"He mentioned it once," he answers, waving him off.

"Okay, following that logic-- giving him a bunch of roses when he doesn't like them very much-- roses are your favourites," Peter points out. "How do you think that's going to come across?"

James looks at his friend, bewildered. "Why would it come across as anything but a prank? I swear, the closer to exams we get, the stranger you become." 

Peter grumbles under his breath, and James stops paying attention to him since clearly he isn't going to be helpful.

Hmph. Sirius doesn't look annoyed or upset in the slightest. He looks happy, for Merlin's sake. James has no idea what he's doing wrong here, but making Sirius's day better is not how this was supposed to go.

*

James and Sirius see each other during class-- most of their courses are the same and have been from year three-- but what surprises James is the way Sirius is beaming. It's not a normal, good-humoured smile or smirk the way he normally does for the pranks to show James that he's not bothered. He seems genuinely happy. Clearly, whatever happened to him this morning before the flowers was enough to brighten his mood for the entire day, no matter what else happens. For Merlin's sake, they're sat in History of Magic right now; no one likes sitting through Binns and his horrid lecturing.

On top of his strangely happy mood, he keeps sending James his pleased smile, as if they are sharing this happiness. James has no idea what's going on, but he doesn't want to admit that to Sirius, so when he shoots James a smile, he raises an eyebrow like he's expecting something. Hopefully, it'll take care of itself and he won't be made the fool. Again.

The rest of the day passes quickly, with James alternating between paying attention to class and looking at Sirius-- not an entirely new rhythm for him, he admits, but he's more distracted than usual, unable to pay adequate attention to either when he tries.

Evening comes and there's still an hour before dinner. Unfortunately, James's lack of concentration during the day lingers, and he walks the corridors aimlessly with his bag still over his shoulder because he hasn't had a chance to drop it off in Gryffindor Tower yet.

He spots a few other students making their way through the halls as his feet carry him around, but no greetings are exchanged. They're heading to their destination and he... Merlin, he feels lost, despite knowing Hogwarts like the back of his hand. Maybe he's especially tired today, and hungry now on top of it.

Sirius surprises him by coming around the corridor, and his feet stop automatically instead of going around him. Sirius strides forward with a smile and a bouquet of roses-- he suspects they're the same roses that James poured over him this morning. "I know these won't last long," he says, confirming his suspicion, "but I figure it's only right to give a few back to you. Roses are your favourite, right?" Sirius phrases it like a question, but there's a knowing gleam in his eyes as he holds the bouquet out to James.

"Erm. Yeah." He accepts them slowly, unsure what's happening.

"You were much more forward than I was expecting," Sirius continues. "With how it's been going the past couple years, I thought we were going to graduate before you asked me out."

Ask- what? Surely he doesn't mean 'ask out' like a date-

"We've been dancing around each other for long enough, so you were right to be so obvious." He chuckles. "Maybe I needed a bit of a kick in the arse instead of expecting you to do everything." And Sirius kisses him. It's a light thing, barely brushing against his lips, but it is definite contact, their mouths touching with purpose.

So he did mean a date. That's... not actually ridiculous. James pulls him back in with one hand, the other holding the roses out of the way so they won't be crushed. He wants a real kiss, damn it. After all these years of not noticing a fancy when it's right in front of him, he deserves a proper kiss.

Professor McGonagall is nervous about the impression Hogwarts is going to make on Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, snapping at all of them to straighten up and fix their clothing. James can barely hear her with how intently he's watching the doors. He'll recognise Sirius as soon as he sees him; Sirius has said (more than once) that he and Regulus look very similar. Will Sirius recognise him? It's been years, and unlike Sirius, he doesn't have a sibling he can point to for reference. Sirius will know it's him after he starts waving and grinning like an idiot though, because there's only one person at this school that will be that excited to see him.

Beauxbatons arrives first, and James tries to hide his disappointment. Given the way Peter elbows him when McGonagall nears, he didn't do a good job of it. But Durmstrang is next, it'll only be a minute until they're walking in, the wait is nearly over-

He feels like he's vibrating in place. In their last letters, talking about the Tournament and discussing the fact that Sirius was going to attend, Sirius sounded excited to see him. James hopes Sirius is looking forward to this as much as he is, because he wants to blow off all the official tournament shite so they can spend as much time together as physically possible.

Durmstrang starts to walk in, James's heart is pounding, and then he spots Sirius and his heart goes double-time. Sirius sees him, grins, and winks, and James is pretty sure his heart has a life of its own now, racing so quickly it's like it wants to escape from his body entirely-- and perhaps throw itself at Sirius's feet and beg to be held by him.

He looks...

He looks so good that James's brain stops working.

To say that he looks like his brother is a misrepresentation of his features. There's enough of a shared likeness that it's obvious they're related, but it's a bit like saying a house cat looks like a lion. He's gotten handsome in the time that they haven't seen each other. He shouldn't be surprised, should he? The last time they saw each other, they were kids. Sirius was twelve, that's nothing. But now they're both adults, and he can't help but feel that Sirius has grown into it exceedingly well. Features that used to make him cute at twelve have refined so he looks like nothing less than a living work of art.

Durmstrang colours look good on him. Deep red and warm brown line all of their uniforms. Gryffindor red made Sirius look bright and happy, and the Durmstrang red makes him look... advanced. Dangerous. Dangerous in a way that suits him and means that James's heart is in danger of unnatural palpitations for the entirety of his visit.

He can't stop staring (even though the entourage has continued down the hallway so all he's doing is staring at the back of his head) and he knows that someone is bound to notice that he's staring, but he physically can't pull his eyes away. It would be embarrassing if he was looking at anyone other than Sirius, he thinks. 

James only snaps out of it when Sirius disappears from his sight altogether. He glances at Peter out of the corner of his eye to see if he has any thoughts about this-- that he wants to share and is unwilling to wait to tease him over-- and finds that his friend is pointedly not looking at him with a not-completely-hidden curl of amusement to his mouth. James hopes Peter knows that, silly as he may be acting already, he has no regrets. Also, he's sure that he'll make more a fool of himself while Sirius is here; this is the tip of the iceberg, or perhaps the first nudge of a boulder before it's pushed off a cliff.

The Welcoming Feast for the visiting students is grand, marked by the ridiculous decorations and the fact that Professor Dumbledore is going to give a speech. It's short, as most speeches by Dumbledore are, and then they're all free to talk and eat as they usually would-- but with some new friends to make conversation with.

Sirius walks right over to James sat at the Gryffindor table, taking the open spot next to him-- left intentionally, James wanted this to happen-- with a grin. "Long time, no see, mate," he says, and it's almost like he never left with how easy it is to talk to him. James worried that it would be awkward for a bit while they readjusted to each other, but it's not like that. There are no awkward pauses or stumbling over each other while talking. He slots back in like he's always been here.

The feast is good, and James doesn't want it to end. Sirius will still be here tomorrow, but when they all have to go to bed, Sirius will be off with the other Durmstrang students instead of in Gryffindor Tower with James.

Merlin, how is he going to survive this? Seeing Sirius every day will be a marked improvement on their relationship so far, but that doesn't mean he wants to say goodbye every night. Saying hello every morning will give him a certain rush, he knows, but he'd rather go without the highs and lows and just have Sirius with him the whole time.

"You're being ridiculous," Peter says, once they're in the dormitory and James has finished waxing about his woes.

"Excuse you."

Peter is unsympathetic. "You finally get to see him and spend the year with him. What's it matter if he sleeps somewhere else?"

James can't answer that. Rather, he can, but he doesn't like the way Remus and Peter have been looking at him since Sirius left for the night, and he doesn't want to make it worse by admitting the totality of what he's feeling. "He used to be in here with us, you know."

"Right, I remember," Peter responds, "but that was years ago. You're taking all the same classes; you'll be spending plenty of time with him even if he's not here. And this way, you won't stay up late every night talking to him instead of sleeping."

James wants to sacrifice sleep in exchange for talking to Sirius.

Then it hits him, and it's so obvious that he almost hits himself for not thinking of it sooner. He can sneak onto Durmstrang's boat to talk to Sirius if it's past curfew. Or he can sneak Sirius in here. It's not difficult to get someone in Gryffindor Tower, and he doubts the protections on Durmstrang's ship are too strenuous, considering it was for the voyage to Hogwarts. He'll talk to him about it tomorrow since he doesn't know what the rooming situation is for Durmstrang's students, and besides, it was a long journey and he might like a little extra sleep tonight.

Less than an hour later, something taps on the window. He's the only one awake, so he gets up to check on it.

James has a sneaking suspicion he knows what it is, but if he's wrong, then he'll be disappointed-

He grins, and Sirius returns it, hanging outside the window like he hasn't a care in the world. James opens the window for him, steps back so he can climb in, and shoots silencing spells at everyone's curtains. Without thinking too much about it, he throws himself at Sirius, wrapping his arms around him in a hug.

"Not too much, then?" Sirius asks, returning the hug.

It doesn't sound like Sirius needs a response. His tone was lighthearted, teasing, but James is going to reply honestly because he wants Sirius to know exactly how he feels about it. "Never," he promises.

*

Having Sirius back is wonderful in a way James can't put words to. It's like the whole world is that much brighter for him being in it; he doesn't understand why no one else is similarly invigorated by the visiting students, but maybe that's because they aren't hanging out with Sirius specifically. With how much James is monopolizing his time, it's not a surprise that he doesn't have the opportunity for anyone else.

And Sirius is gorgeous, of course he is. James knew that from the instant he saw him walk in in his Durmstrang uniform. It's just that it is perhaps affecting him more than he anticipated. 

It is conceivable that he has a massive crush on Sirius. 

It's also conceivable that he's attracted to his brain as well as his body, which puts him in a difficult position, because that's less of a passing fancy and more of a way to get his heart broken. He can already feel it happening. Sirius hasn't come anywhere close to rejecting him (because they haven't broached the topic of dating in any way, not in current interests or past partners), but it's like his body is preparing him for it preemptively. It's horrible. He hates feeling like this. He can't stand it for long, which means that he's going to have to talk to Sirius just to get it out of the way, and he's not looking forward to it. He knows that he's going to be rejected, but maybe it's the same as physical pain: waiting for it is often worse than dealing with it once it happens.

He means to talk to Sirius about it the next time he sees him, but the expression on Sirius's face takes precedence over asking him on a date. His brow is furrowed, a tight curve to his mouth that twists more like a grimace than the smile it's clearly trying to be. 

"What's wrong?" James asks as soon as he's sat beside him. 

"Nothing," he lies, but he doesn't put much effort in making it believable. He sighs a moment later. "Got a letter from my parents." 

"I didn't know they wrote you." It feels like the sort of thing Sirius would've mentioned in passing, not wanting to draw attention to it, but wanting James in his life too much to not ever bring it up. 

"They don't," Sirius confirms. 

"What's the occasion?" he asks, knowing that he'll hate the answer.

"You. Apparently, word has reached their ears that we're spending time together, and my mum decided to be a prick about it." 

James makes a face. 'Be a prick about it' could refer to any number of things, from being generally unpleasant in tone to removing Sirius from Durmstrang so that he would no longer have reason to be at Hogwarts for the Tournament. Knowing what he does of the Black matriarch, anything in that range is possible. "What're they going to do about it?" 

"Nothing, yet." He makes a vague gesture to the discarded parchment. "Only warnings, for now."

"To stay away from me, or stop being so friendly?"

"Something to the effect of never laying my eyes on you," he smirks, looking directly at James as he says it.

James grins. "So you're telling them to fuck off?"

"No, I'm just going to ignore them. No need to hasten the fire. With any luck, they'll be stuck on threats by the time I graduate, and then they won't be able to do anything."

He wants to be happy about that-- and a part of him is-- but the phrasing at the end, well, it sounds like Sirius plans on getting out of his parent's reach, which would put him away from Britain. "Are you leaving?" he can't help but ask.

Sirius blinks, taken aback. "I- well, I haven't thought of all the details. I've got a few more months before the end of term."

"But you're not staying here."

"Probably not," he admits reluctantly.

It's only seeing that reluctance that has James pressing forward. Sirius has some sort of hesitation to leaving, and maybe the reason is him. "I want you to stay. The past few months have been the best I've had at Hogwarts since first year. I missed you. We- we click, you know?"

One corner of Sirius's mouth curves up. "Yeah, we do. I admit I don't want to leave at the end of this year and never see you again."

"I don't want that either. So let's... not do that."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," James confirms. He sounds more confident than he is, but acting unsure won't help either of them. "We can do what we want."

Sirius snorts, amused, but he nods all the same. 

"Speaking of things we want, I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date."

"I mean, yeah. I've never been on a date, but I do plan on going on one someday. Someday soon, hopefully, but I guess that depends on-"

"No, I meant with me. Do you want to go on a date with me?"

"Oh." Sirius blinks, then grins. "And here I thought you'd never ask."

"You could've asked me," James points out, but there's no heat to it; he's too happy that they're going on a date to be upset about anything. He was wrong about getting his heart broken; he's never been so pleased to be wrong before.

He shrugs. "I was going to give it another month before I tried."

"You had this timed out for yourself?" he asks incredulously.

"Eh."

"'Eh'? What does that mean?"

Sirius grins at him, then leans forward and presses a kiss to his cheek, lighting him up from the inside out. "Does it matter? We still got here."

His train of thought is interrupted when someone bumps into him from behind. “What the bloody fuck,”  comes a muffled swear with a faint Welsh accent, telling James that it’s just Moony. Belatedly, he remembers that he’s under his cloak. “What—oh, don’t tell me, Merlin and Morgana, is that you under there, James?”

James pokes his head out and grins sheepishly at an exasperated Remus and a bemused Regulus. “Hello, kind sirs, how may I help you?”

“What are you doing here? And why the hell are you hiding?”

James sniffs. “Well, I would’ve been with Sirius, but seeing as I’m so unimportant that he replaced me, I’m bored. Also, I’m not hiding, I’m just preventing this beautiful heirloom from my ancestors from collecting dust.”

Regulus snickers. “The way that thing gets used, there’s no way it would collect dust, even without you using it to spy on my brother.”

“I’m not spying!” 

Remus hums, quickly looking around. “So you’re just creepily watching his date under your cloak so he doesn’t notice you?”

James sniffs. “I need to make sure my replacement meets my standards.” 

“Salazar’s saggy balls, you’re transparent as fuck. You ought to be ashamed,” Regulus says, dragging them to a secluded booth. He digs his feet under James’ arse for warmth.

“I'm sure I don’t know what you mean,” James replies hotly, poking Regulus in the ribs as retaliation.

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You mean you’re not jealous?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Really?” It should be illegal how Regulus could inflect so much emotion into a tiny word. He had no right making six letters sound so disbelieving. 

“I just want to spend time with my best friend, goddamnit, without a random blonde wanker hanging off of him. Why is that such a big deal?”

“Last I checked, I’m one of your best friends and you never mope around when I go on a date,” Remus remarks.

“First of all, you’re this close to getting removed from my list of best friends, and second, I like Regulus even more than I like you. There’s no need to mope because it’s Reggie. Louis or Liam or whatever is not Reg.”

“As flattering as that is, you still aren’t making any sense,” Regulus says. “If you’re not jealous, then why does it matter who he’s dating? S’not like they’re getting married.”

James, who had resumed glaring at Sirius’ table, swirls around. “You think they might get married?”  he nearly screeches. “There’s no fucking way I’ll let—”

Regulus and Remus each grab an arm to pin him down. “Nobody’s getting married, bloody hell, how can you still be in denial?” Remus grumbles. “You’re even worse than Sirius.”

“I’m going to pretend like I know what that means, only because the alternative is Sirius keeping secrets and I don’t like that,” James says, yanking his arms from their grasp. “I’m calm now, you don’t need to keep holding me.”

The moment the two sit down, James dives under the table and makes a run for it. Regulus nearly gets a hold of him, but James’ Quidditch reflexes are enough to pull away. 

Regulus turns to Remus, eyes wide. “Should we—” 

Remus pauses, then shakes his head. “Not our responsibility to talk sense into those two. Honestly, for two students at the top of the class, they can be such idiots sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Okay, maybe a little more than that,” he concedes with a laugh. 

Regulus smiles. “Do you think they’ll finally confess?” he asks into the crook of Remus’ neck. 

Remus kisses his dark curls. “Not counting on it.”

“Hel-lo gentlemen,” James sing-songs as he squeezes into Sirius’ side of the booth, effectively blocking Luca’s hands from moving further up. “Nice day out, innit?”

“James Potter,” Sirius’ date greets with a smile that’s strained at the edges. 

“That’s me!” James says brightly. “So what’re we having today?”

“Prongs,” Sirius hisses under his breath. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Crashing your date,” James says. “Why?”

Sirius presses his eyes closed, breathes out, and then stands up. “I’m so sorry, Louis, to cut this short. If you’ll excuse us.” He pushes James out of the booth and drags him outside.

“What the hell, James?” Sirius asks, furious. He begins pacing back and forth, hands clenched at his sides. “I was enjoying my date. Why did you have to come and ruin everything?”

Something heavy falls to the pit of James’ stomach. “I’m sorry, I ruined everything?”

“Yes!” Sirius snaps. “You talk about Lily all the damn time, and now that you’re finally dating her, you decided you’d rather spend Valentine’s ruin my chances at having a nice boyfriend?”

James blinks. “I’m not—we’re not—we broke up weeks ago, Pads. And we were supposed to spend Valentine’s together.  Not with Lily or anyone else.”

Sirius pauses, taken aback. “Well, just because you don’t have a date doesn’t mean I can’t. We hang out all the time, why can’t I spend Valentine’s with someone I like? What’s wrong with me dating someone?”

“I don’t mind it when you date all those random birds,” James says, voice quiet. Nothing about this conversation is going as he expected, and he’s torn between equal amounts of anger and hurt. “I just don’t like Liam.” He doesn’t bring up the fact that up until now, he had thought that Sirius had liked spending time with him, preferred it even, to the company of others. He doesn’t bring up that he would rather spend time with Sirius than anyone else because it feels clingy when Sirius clearly doesn’t seem to share the same sentiment. 

“Louis,” Sirius corrects. “What, because he’s a bloke?”

James sputters. “What? No—it’s not—I don’t—Pads, you must know I don’t care about that.”

Sirius scoffs. “Then what is your problem?”

“Louis is,” James says. “I just don’t like him. I don’t want him to be dating you. I don’t want you dating him.  ”

“If it’s not because he’s a guy, then what is it?”

“I don’t know,” James replies miserably. He feels off-kilter and can’t get the right words to come out. “I just don’t know.”

“So it is  because he’s a bloke. There can't be any other reason why,” Sirius sneers, voice icy. James knows the Black’s ability to be cold and aloof remains in Sirius, but he never expected to be on the receiving end of it. It makes his thoughts screech to a halt. A lump forms in his throat, making it impossible to speak.

At James’ silence, Sirius laughs humorously. “Just great,” he spits out. “Of bloody course you’d be a fucking homophobe. As if the universe doesn’t hate me enough.” 

James opens his mouth to correct him, to tell him that that has never been and would never be an issue, that it’s something else but he just doesn’t know what. When he looks up, though, Sirius has already stormed off, leaving behind a cloud of confusion and hurt. 

“Remus told me I’d find you here,” Sirius says. He’s swaying on his heels by the door to the Room of Requirement, which currently looks like the Potters’ living room. He looks hesitant to enter but stubborn enough to not turn back. James turns to look at the dancing flames in the fireplace, knowing Sirius would see it as an invitation to come in.

“I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions too fast,” Sirius begins. “Or, well—I mean, I still would like to know why you don’t like Louis, but I didn’t mean to call you a homophobe.”

James doesn’t respond, taking some time to mull over his answer. Sirius sits cross-legged on the ground next to him, knees close enough to touch.

“Pan,” James blurts out. So much for coming up with a thoughtful response. Upon Sirius’ confused look, James clarifies, “I’m pan. Would be kinda stupid to be a homophobe, don’t you think?”

Sirius nods slowly, looking away for a moment and swallowing harshly. “Good for you. Um. That’s—that’s great. Obviously. That would be rather stupid, yeah.”

James looks at him carefully. “Erm, does that change things?”

“No!” Sirius exclaims. “Of course not! No, it’s just great. Now that we established that we’re both single and queer, I can finally take you to those Muggle pubs and hook you up with a gorgeous person of your dreams.” 

James turns away, knowing Sirius’ words are futile. Now that he’d had some time to think since the disaster of the morning, it was obvious why he felt so angry at seeing Sirius on a date. The person of his dreams wasn’t some stranger at a pub, but Sirius himself. He could imagine Regulus and Remus’ gloating faces when he told them. 

“That won’t help,” James says.  

“Maybe not, but as I always say, a good shag here and there can make life a lot better. Even Remy agrees with me now.”

James tries but fails not to think of Sirius in dim-lit alleys with handsome men on their knees. “Remy is a horny little werewolf who gets his back blown out by Reggie on the regular. Obviously now he thinks that’s the solution to everyone’s problems.”

Sirius stills. “Godric’s tits, James!” He summons a throw pillow from one of the sofas to hit James with. “I don’t want to think about what my baby brother does with his boyfriend—Merlin, gross, I need an Obliviate. Why the fuck would you mention that ?”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with them fucking when you’re asking them about it,” James teases. “You ask Regulus himself. Why is this worse?”

Sirius’ pale skin pinks immediately, which makes James’ stomach sink. “Because this is about Regulus and Remus,” he says, voice eerily steady. “When I ask, it’s just about Remus.”

“Oh,” James murmurs. “Oh, hell, I shouldn’t have brought that up. I know you said you’re over Moons, but—"

“Wait, no,” Sirius interrupts. He pushes himself onto his knees in front of James. “That’s not what I meant at all.” 

“Sure,” James says, standing up quickly. He doesn’t believe Sirius, of course, having caught him looking longingly at Remus one too many times whenever they hang out. There’s a tight feeling in his chest that’s not going away, this horrible jealous thing. He wants to hit Sirius and grab him and kiss him, and he wants to punch Remus too for good measure. He likes Remus, he loves him even, but fuck if it wouldn’t be nice if Sirius stopped wanting everyone but James for once. 

“He’s probably right,” James says after a while, Sirius still on the ground. The firelight dances off of Sirius’ handsome features, illuminating the slope of his nose and the downturn of his lips. 

“Obviously,” Sirius says after a beat, fixing him with a calculating look. He’s still blushing, but whether that’s from the heat or the memory of Remus, James isn’t sure. It makes James burn something fierce inside. 

“Sorry,” James says again, once he’s determined that it’s most likely because of Remus. “I know it must be hard, especially with your brother in the picture—”

“Fuck’s sake, Prongs, would you shut it about Moony,” Sirius says, smacking James’ thigh with the pillow again before grabbing his hands where they lay uselessly by his side. “I’m not into Remus anymore. That was years ago, and anyway, I’d never do that to Reg. Do you ever even listen to me?”

James shrugs, looking anywhere but at Sirius on his knees between his thighs in front of him. “You’re the one who still thought I was dating Lily.”

“I know you broke up, but I thought you’d be back together by now,” Sirius admits. “It’s just—you and Lily, I dunno, just work.  It always gave me hope, I think, to see how you two came to be friends. Like maybe I’ll also find someone I love who loves me that much someday.”

James wants to throttle him. Wants to yell at him that he already has someone who loves him, someone who knows him better than anyone else, someone who’s right there if only Sirius wanted him back. Instead, he blurts out, “What Lily and I have isn’t like you and me.” Realizing how that sounded, he quickly adds, “Or you and Remus.”

Sirius groans, letting his head fall onto James’ hip. James’ knees almost buckle at the warm breath on his legs. “You seem awfully insistent that I still fancy Remus when you’re the one who doesn’t like Evans anymore despite being so hung up about her for years. You could just, I dunno,  ask  me like a normal person.”

James jerks back, hating himself for the hurt expression flitting across Sirius’ face at the motion. Sirius blinks up at him for a moment, maintaining eye contact as he tilts his head curiously to study him. Then, seemingly after finding what he’s looking for, he leans forward to follow James’ motion. There’s a determined quirk at the corner of his mouth, but the tenseness in the set of his shoulders betrayed his nerves. 

“Wh—what do you mean?” James manages to ask, voice weak. Sirius rolls his eyes and smiles softly as he reaches out to curl a hand just above James’ knee.

“Jamie,” he says softly. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. You think too much, do you know?” His eyes are lit golden-bright, and James wants to kiss him. Then Sirius’ other hand finds the pillow he had hit James with before and places it under his knees. 

“What are you doing?” James breathes out. Sirius only shakes his head, pulling James closer and brushing his knuckles just above James’ waistband. He hitches up his shirt to expose a sliver of skin, then presses his lips just under James’ navel. 

“Fuck,” James gasps. He realises belatedly that his hands had come up to tangle in Sirius’ hair, gripping him in place. 

“You could’ve just asked me,” Sirius repeats, tongue slipping between his lips to wet them. James shudders. “Instead of using your cloak to spy on my date and be jealous and miserable all day.” His tongue darts out again, sliding hot and wet and perfect up the dark smattering of hair that leads down beneath James’ boxers.

“How—oh—how do you know?” James asks, mind a mess of scrambled thoughts as his world narrows down to Sirius and his slick tongue and clever fingers working his boxers down. He’s sure he’s hallucinating because the Sirius he knows likes men Remus and Louis, blokes who take up less space in a room, who are quieter and more thoughtful and don’t resort to petty things like sabotaging their best friend’s dates because they’re in love with said best friend. Sirius doesn’t like guys like him, who are selfish and hopeless and—

“Stop. Thinking.” Sirius emphasizes each word with a harsh swipe up his cock with his tongue. James whines, high-pitched and demanding, and Sirius smiles up at him. 

“You look so pretty like this, Prongs,” he whispers between sucks. James swallows. 

“Oh,” he gasps. “But you’re—oh, yes, fuck, you’re a natural at this—but you’re in love with—with Remus?” His words end up more of a question as Sirius tongues his slit, but Sirius gets the message and pulls away slightly, glowering. 

“For the love of Merlin and Morgana and all that is holy, would you shut up about Remus,” he tells him forcefully. James nods, unthinking, laser-focused on the line of spit between Sirius’ reddened lips and his dick. Sirius notices and his features soften, an indulgent smile on his face, and squeezes James’ fingers at his sides. 

“In case this doesn’t clarify things, James Fleamont Potter,” he says quietly. “James. Jamie. Prongs. My gorgeous, idiot best mate, my partner-in-crime. What the hell makes you think that there’s ever been anyone but you?”

James stiffens and pulls away. Sirius lets him take his time to gather his bearings. “Don’t joke about this, fuck, Si, if you’re joking—”

He shakes his head. “No. No, Prongs, this is it. I—I love you, okay?”

“For how long?” James rasps. His mind is whirling. 

“Does it matter?” At James’ insistent look, Sirius sighs and looks away. “Fourth year, I think, is when I knew for certain. But it started even before that.”

“You’ve loved me for this long?” James breathes. “Holy shit, Si.”

Sirius turns away, cheeks reddened. “Does it matter?”

James sits on the ground in front of him, taking his face into his hands. “Yes, it does, you bloody mutt. I thought you were in love with Remus this whole time.”

He shrugs. “That was just an excuse to hide that I was in love with you since I first knew loving blokes was a thing.”

“Damn,” James whispers. “Oh my god, Si, how did you manage? I only just realised how I feel about you today, and I already lost my composure, like, twenty times.”

Sirius laughs, and James feels something inside him settle into place. “Well, as a reward for my patience, can I continue what I started?” he asks, gesturing to James’ lap.

James smiles. “Sure,” he says. “As long as I get to return the favour. And first, I want to do this.” He takes his glasses off before turning Sirius’ face to his and tentatively pressing their lips together. He’s sure he’s never felt anything half as wonderful until Sirius wraps an arm around him and presses in close. And then he’s finally tasting Sirius, and can identify a hint of himself, and then his brain stops working. 

Sirius pulls away, after what could’ve been hours or minutes. James chases after him blindly, sparking a chuckle out of Sirius. “Prongs?”

“Yeah?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” When James looks up at him, he’s grinning cheekily. His eyes are sparkling and his cheeks are flushed, and James idly thinks, I made him look like this.  A surge of affection bubbles up in him, and he quickly places kisses all over Sirius’ face, prompting more laughter and kisses. 

“I love you,” he whispers into Sirius’ back, hours later when they’re both sated and sticky and riding the high of requited love. Sirius turns to face him, hair wild and face open.