#25dofe

“The entire dorm reeks,” Remus offers, closing the door and sitting next to James along the cabinet, limbs overlapping.

James moves closer, presses his forehead to Remus’s neck and feels his pulse at his skin. He smells like parchment and the library and something like dog, something like wolf, it reminds James of the loamy smell of the forest at dawn, rebirth into flesh and the sun begging at the sky for its new day.

When he emerges from the warm cocoon of Remus’s neck, Sirius is watching, one knee propped up and his foot still on James. Remus smokes the joint and James looks to him, poking at his sternum until Remus grasps his wrist and holds it in his lap just as James was wanting all along.

“Prefect!” James chides.

Remus scoffs and knocks his shoulder under James’s chin and James is grinning and Remus is grinning even as he reminds, “Head boy.”

Sirius performs retching and they all collapse into lazy, weed-dry laughter. Remus’s arm is pressed against James’s torso and Sirius’s leg has nudged over his calf and it’s two points of contact that ground him to here, here, these two are all he needs.

“It’s just different this time,” Sirius says vaguely, shouldering his book bag more securely.

“Different how?”

He pauses, as if thinking about it. “This relationship is more important to me than the others. We wanted to keep it a secret for a while, give us a chance to be together without any pressure.”

“So you’re properly serious about this girl then?” Lily asks, they round the corner towards the transfiguration and charms classrooms.

Sirius grins wolfishly. “I’m always Sirius.”

James groans and punches Sirius’ shoulder through his laughter.

“But yeah, I am, properly serious that is.”

“So you’re keeping it private but how private?” She asks, and turns to Remus. “Do you know who he’s with?”

Remus smiles as if laughing inwardly at the question. “Yeah I know.”

“What about you two?” She demands, catching James and Peter’s attention. They both nod to confirm.

“Why can’t I know?”

Sirius shrugs. “It’s nothing personal Lily, we just wanted to keep it as private as possible and couldn’t keep it from these guys.”

They lapse into silence as Lily thinks that over. She understands wanting to keep personal relationships private, especially with how watched the Marauders are. A relationship with any one of them is bound to capture everyone’s attention. That being said, Lily is their friend, and she’s desperate to know.

“You can’t tell me?” She smiles at him hopefully.

Sirius laughs. “Alright Evans, if you’re so curious, I have a proposition for you.”

The other Marauders seem to take interest in this, slowing enough that they’re all walking in a tight group. Peter and Remus share a confused look.

“We’ll set up a little bet, you have until the end of the school year - so two months - to work out who I’m dating, or…” he pauses to think and with an evil smirk decides, “or you have to ask your crush out on a date.”

“Pads!” James complains, looking hurt at the suggestion.

Sirius claps him on the back. “Just trust me mate.” He smirks at Lily, a knowing glint in his grey eyes. A flush burns Lily’s cheeks, turning her almost as red as her hair, she pointedly avoids looking at James.

Sirius’ neck is arched, the pale, white column of skin exposed to the night air. His head is completely out the window, the wind throwing his hair in wild disarray, untamed hair wisps flying everywhere. The lamplights along the streets light his features in gold and then coat them in shadow in a dizzying kaleidoscope of light. And he’s laughing; a soft, vivacious thing. 

And Remus wants to reach out, his fingers itch at the thought but they stay on the steering wheel; white-knuckled, gripping tight. Because this is not how this works. The sempiternal truth of it is this: Sirius is fire, burning, burning, burning. And Remus is weathered leaves on the forest floor; dried out kindling. Sirius would ruin him and Remus is more than willing. Because the sempiternal truth of it is this: Remus is making him tea after Sirius wakes to another man. He’s the flatmate. He’s the best friend— and isn’t that all just terribly unfair.

Sirius’ head pops back up. Eyes catching Remus’ and holding. The black kohl along his water line is smudged, black flecks of it dusting his cheekbone. His hair is still flying everywhere, whipping across his face. He’s a mess. He’s the blurred edges of a photograph.  He’s a heartbeat and stinging lungs. He’s the rattling behind Remus’ ribcage. And Sirius grins at him, tongue between teeth —illecebrous and tantalising and all things beautiful and dangerous— and all the air rushes out of Remus’ lungs in one fell swoop. He’s lightheaded and dizzy and burning.

“Eyes on the road, Moony.”

Remus turns back around.

Right, eyes on the road. 

happy december!! 

“Don’t…” Regulus mutters, scrunching his fingers on the duvet, “Don’t toy with me.”

James tilts his head, “I’m not.” He sits up a little straighter, reaching out to gently place his hand on his shoulder. Regulus shrugs him off. “Hey, just talk to me, yeah?”

“Merlin above, Potter, I like you,” Regulus whispers harshly into the darkness, turning his face away completely. “Do you get it, now?”

James pauses. Is that all?

And a moment later, he thinks, Oh, that’s sweet. Of course, he knows that Regulus considers him a friend but this is the first time he’s ever actually acknowledged it out loud. It’s nice to be reminded that their fondness for one another is not one-sided. A verbal confirmation of their friendship.

James smiles brightly. “I like you, too,” he replies easily.

Regulus, bless him, actually looks surprised as he turns back. “You do?”

He nods, watching as the younger boy seems to short-circuit. He opens and closes his mouth, his usual eloquence vanishing just because of a simple declaration of friendship. James considers it sort of endearing; and this time when he reaches out, Regulus leans into his touch instead.

“Now that we’ve got that settled,” he says, pulling on his arm gently, “will you come back to bed? I’m knackered.”

Regulus stares at him. He looks so shocked and so, so hopeful. James wonders which asshole turned down being Regulus’ mate to make him so openly awed by someone accepting him. He supposes it doesn’t matter anymore, James will make sure Regulus never feels lonely again.

It just feels right when Regulus curls back into his arms.

Potter stopped in in tracks. He was wearing an ill-fitting red jumper with a large H emblazoned on it. His hair was messier than Draco remembered. He still had those ridiculous glasses and he had gotten just a dash taller. He was eating a candy cane, the end sticking out of his mouth as he gawked at Draco with wide, unblinking eyes.

All in all, he looked rather ridiculous.

Draco raised an eyebrow as Potter refused to break eye contact. His expression was blank and guarded, it gave nothing away. Draco found himself adopting a similar stance, not one to make the first move in the best of situations. This hardly qualified.

Potter cracked first. His foot shifted and Draco instinctively stiffened.

Then—still not taking his eyes off Draco— he took a very slow, very careful step back. As if Draco was an irate Blast Ended Skrewt who’d attack if startled. Draco remained thoroughly unimpressed as Potter withdrew, one slow step at a time, until he was back in the hall. Then the mop of black hair disappeared from view and Potter was gone.

Draco stared after him as the utter absurdity of the situation sank in.

Of all the ridiculous...

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Ginny’s voice drifted over, sounding concerned.

“Malfoy’s here,” Potter said. He sounded confused. Not agitated, like Draco had expected.

“Oh, right!” Ginny’s tone suggested that she had forgotten about Draco’s presence altogether. He wasn’t sure if that was offensive or amusing. Possibly both. “Yeah,” she went on, “Mum sort of adopted him.”

There was silence for a spell, and Draco could almost sense Potter’s impending implosion. The hissy fit he was expecting didn’t come. Instead, Potter just poked his head in again, as if to check that Draco wasn’t a hallucination after all. “Huh,” he stated, before shoving his hands in his pockets and leaving with Ginny.

Blasted idiot.

With a huff, Draco went back to decorating.

“My God,” he groans. “Why am I going down for this? Blame Remus, they’re the one whose so adamant about getting us to fuck,” James mutters in disgust, as though fucking Regulus is the most disgusting thing he’s ever thought about. Regulus scoffs, then he cocks an eyebrow.

“You don’t think I’m aware of that?” Regulus asks. “Every time you come to the flat, they tell me that I should put on something nicer and never tells me why. It’s so annoying. I swear them and Sirius are both so obsessed with us dating.”

There’s a sudden silence that settles between the two that makes Regulus shift in discomfort. He feels a bit warm from his nerves, looking up, eyes scanning the room as he tries to find the waitress. James looks like he’s doing mental gymnastics as he stares Regulus down with narrow, brown eyes, a spark glistening in them as he blinks, then smirks.

“What?” Regulus asks.

James smiles at him, eyes fluttering, his eyelashes dancing on his cheekbones and making Regulus’ chest squeeze. “Wanna have some fun?” he asks, not giving any further context. Regulus is taken aback, his breath hitching in his throat as he looks at James in pure confusion.

Have some fun? Is that some sort of euphemism for sex? Was James asking to shag him? 

“Are you mad?” Regulus asks, voice high with confusion. “What the hell do you mean have some fun? What the hell-”

“I’m not asking to shag, oh my god,” James shudders, his face fixed in a grimace. Regulus scoffs, going to argue, but James cuts him off with a look. “I’d rather snog Sirius than fuck you, dear god,” he huffs. “I was going to say,” he continues. “What if we make it look like we enjoyed this?”

Regulus blinks. “I’m not following,” he admits, rubbing his forehead. He stares at James whose face is fixed in a tired expression as he breathes in and then lets the breath out loudly. He feels the urge to fucking punch him again. 

“We pretend we had fun,” James elaborates. “Post a few photos of us holding hands on our Instagram stories, maybe kiss each other-”

“No.”

James sighs. “Let me finish,” he groans. Regulus settles in his seat, humming. “Maybe kiss each other on the cheek. Play into it for a few days, maybe two weeks at most, and then tell everyone we decided to break it off because we didn’t really want to be together. It would get them to lay off, you know? Knowing that we’ve tried and it just didn’t work, they might bugger off and never bring it up again.”