#hogwarts time

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.

"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.

"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." 

*

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. 

“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.

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."