#starlitmusings

[imaginejamesandsirius]

James and Sirius are so beautiful together. I want to ask, if you have time, of course. Would you mind writing a story about james starting to call Sirius by a different pet name every day to get Sirius' attention. But, Sirius, even if he loves it, he plays it cool. Fluff and getting together

((Note: Read below or on AO3!))

“What the hell, Potter?” comes an enraged yell from across the Great Hall. James looks up to see Sirius Black storming towards the Gryffindor table with red and gold stripes replacing the usual green and silver on his tie. He snickers.

Remus tries to hide his amusement. “James, it’s the second day of school.”

James shrugs. “Which is why I used a second-year charm to torment him today. If he’d stop to think for half a second, he could easily solve the problem with the counter-charm.” He ignores Remus and Peter’s disbelieving scoffs and smiles innocently at Black when he reaches them. “Alright there?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” he snaps, grey eyes flashing. 

“It’s a second-year spell, Black, bloody hell. Just fix it yourself if it bothers you so much.”

“You think I didn’t try?” he bites out. “I wouldn’t put myself in your presence if I could help it.” 

Remus and Peter share a glance, then raise matching eyebrows in James’ direction. James doesn’t bother to look at them.

“See, here’s the thing. I could fix it, easily, but the Gryffindor colors look so much better than the Slytherin ones. So, no, for the sake of my eyes and everyone else’s, I’d rather not.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Black sneers and turns away. 

Not quite finished messing with him, James winks. “I’d rather you fuck me, ” he says, relishing the way Black’s eyes widen slightly and lips part before he recovers and smooths out his expression again. He once again ignores his friends’ bewildered expressions.

“I wouldn’t dirty any part of my body by having it come near you,” Black retorts. 

“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.

It’s always enough.

[ginadope]

small piece of the moon

Someone found A small piece of the Moon In the garden we no longer tend to The reddest blood The whites of your eyes The story most precious We have no dawn forever to break But a piece so dear Indestructible It touches whatever it is That binds day to night - Complete yet Never to cease

[toyfulbox]

from here | @starlitmuses

"But isn't it humbling, rather, flattering for me to make an impression of you?"

"You imply that I have anything better to do. I think I at least deserve a rating of the impression."

[stories-of-the-multiverse]

RP Carrd and DNIs

((This is just a pinned post to make my info more accessible. Here we go;

Follows back from: @animeschibia

Rules

Muses [Many Bios are a WIP]

Muse Groups [WIP, just lets you know who's all grouped under the same tags.]

Verses [WIP-ish]

RP Wishlist

Current Happenings [May change links or not have a link at all, so check this frequently]

If you need any clarification, feel free to send an ask or IM

DNI under the cut;

DNI if you...

Are under 18 years old

Create and/or consume incestuous and/or pedophilic content

Are homophobic, transphobic, racist, and/or hold any other bigoted views

Are friends with, write with, follow, or are Sunny/Mod/Aether of damnlamb, fatedlamb, lambfated, lambfateds, starlitmuses, usuperblessed, octobub and whatever other blogs they own [would rather not entertain malicious stalkers and harassers nor their enablers]

Are friends with, write with, follow, or are Pineapple of strebcr, welcometothefuckhouse, meltylcnd-nightmare, justiciaa and whatever other blog they own [the above plus groomer defending]

Are friends with, write with, follow, or are amaterasu-cmikami, ama-tcra-su or whatever other blog they own [the above, plus racism and homophobia]

More to be added if more comes up.))

[fluffghostrp]

‘  tell  me  of  the  beast,  and  i  will  hunt  it  for  you.  ’ (from akari?)

↬ OF FAIRYTALES, FOLKLORE AND FAEKIND.

　 　 “Hm? Of the loup-garou? T'is more of a danger for you, than me.”

The witch clicks her tongue in thought, as if debating to humor the girl.

　 　 “A human who wears a pokemon's skin, stalking the wilds in it's guise. Or perhaps a pokemon who can take the guise of a human? Hard to say.”

Is she absolutely choosing her words carefully? Yes. Yes she is.

　 　 “I am sure you have heard of similar tales - many different entities can shift their shape as described. The problem is not the trickery... to appear human and pokemon does not make a loup-garou. What makes a loup-garou is whether or not they start seeking humans as prey. While i appreciate your bravery, what makes you certain you are up to the task?”

[badmusejail]

9. have the types of characters you play changed over the years?

15 questions about mun’s taste in muses

I’m not sure I have a good answer for this, hence why it took so long to get around to typing up an answer.  

I guess if I had to give an answer, I’d say that they’ve gotten more complex?  Which is a good thing, but even then it only applies to characters I’ve written waaay back in my first rounds on tumblr in around 2013.  

I think the characters I played back then were fairly straightforward “good guys,” without much complexity in their morals or actions.

Whereas nowadays I have characters who do bad things for the greater good, or accidentally do bad things while trying to do good, or even the characters who just do bad things.

[toyfulbox]

What a boring rule! Something so simple, yet full of common sense. Yet, Avery wouldn't make any sort of smart remark about it, he knew that Libra would just snap back at him with a snarky comeback of sorts, that's the last thing he needed just about now.

He retracts his arm away from Libra, folding his arms over another, not in a show of disinterest, thankfully. But he nods, taking in that information.

"It seems like it'd be the last think you'd hear from me, but I think I can give out an air of professionalism. If I so wanted to, of course. But to show it to an entire kingdom..." He pauses, staring aloofly to the side as he gives a sigh. "I could do that, but would there be any harm in having fun publicly once in a while?" He asks.

"It can't be all that serious." He states, "wouldn't it be nice for the people to know that their Prince can indulge in a bit of fun for once?"

For as unwelcome a sensation as the other's sudden intrusion into their personal space was, Libra doesn't push Avery away in a particularly rough manner, simply deigning to roll his eyes with a soft huff at the gesture as he stumbles backwards instead. After all, beggars couldn't be choosers, and their complaints had gotten Avery to listen to them…a small victory that they will begrudgingly accept, for now.

"Right, then. Let's start with the basics before you get too ahead of yourself. Rule number one; mind your manners. I get that this may be a bit foreign to you, given how…new you are to all of this, but holding yourself with grace and poise is key. Like I said before, you are acting as the face of my--"

"…Of the entire kingdom. You have got to behave professionally if you want anyone to take our people seriously. Got all that so far?"

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Can you write about James absolutely hating valentines day because it’s a day where he has to keep watching people try to woo Sirius... little did he know, Sirius only has eyes for him <333

Sirius is laughing. 

The audacity of that traitor, just laughing the laugh that’s supposed to be only for James to hear, because of something Luca—or was it Liam?—said. James knows he could’ve come up with something much better, something that would’ve made Sirius laugh even harder, then turn to him with those beautiful, glittering grey eyes and cheeks flushed from the cold and the alcohol and the joy.

But he can’t, obviously, because Liam the utter dipshit is taking over Sirius’ life. James and Sirius were supposed to restock on some of their pranking supplies that day while the rest of the student population were busy locking lips and celebrating at Puddifoot’s when the slimy git decided it would be a good idea to replace James in Sirius’ Valentine’s weekend plans. As if watching people make passes at Sirius wasn’t annoying enough already. And then stupid Sirius with his stupid face that James stupidly can’t say no to, decided to stupidly agree to a stupid date at Three Broomsticks.

James scowls harder, hoping the intensity of his glare could yank the tosser out of the seat that should’ve been his. All that happens is Luca taking Sirius’ amusement as a sign to inch closer, sliding his hand up his knee. And Sirius just smiles at him, all warm and inviting. James wants to throw up. Maybe he could even aim it at Liam and call it an accident. Even Sirius wouldn’t be nice enough to continue entertaining a bloke covered in vomit.

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. 

“I love you too, James,” he murmurs, and James feels giddy with the knowledge that Sirius was only in love with him, not Louis or Remus or all those other people he’d pulled in bars. That this was just for the two of them. James and Sirius, Sirius and James. As it always had been, and as it always should be.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Heyyy! here’s a prompt: James and Sirius are tired of constantly turning people down and watching their food for Amortentia or any variation of it so they decide to pretend to be gay and in love. Please make them get together for real in the end :)))

((Note: This fic was written by starlitmusings our newest author! It's ~9k, so you can read below, or on her AO3))

Early morning light filters through the thin curtains of the sixth-year boys’ dormitory, bathing the room with a soft golden hue. James, whose bed is closest to the window, stretches lazily and looks over to the sleeping boy curled next to him.

“Pads,” he whispers. There’s a stray lock of hair falling across his friend’s face, and James has the strange but familiar urge to tuck it in behind his ear and—

And what? Ruin the relationship you have with the most important person in your life?  James dispels the thought with the ease of someone who’s had to do it many times before. “Pads,” he says again, giving him a gentle push. “Wake up, we’ll be late. The others will hog the loo if we don’t get up first.”

Sirius stirs, feels the light on the exposed parts of his body, and promptly locks his legs around James. He blindly finds the crook of James’ neck and buries his face into it with a mumbled, “Don’t want to. ‘M comfy.”

James resists the urge to laugh and instead jams a finger into his shoulder. 

“Ow! Bloody hell, you fucking traitor,” Sirius yelps as he pulls away from James. He sits up slowly and stretches with a yawn, and James finds his gaze drawn to the way the light hits the hard, Quidditch-toned planes of Sirius’ bare chest and arms. 

“I can’t skive off of classes anymore, Sirius, you know that. Besides, you need time to get your hair care routine in or you’ll be a brat all day,” James replies once he wills his eyes to look anywhere but his half-naked friend. The friend that’s half-naked on his bed, his brain promptly supplies, and James mentally kicks himself for the thought.

“Stupid Dumbledore and his stupid decision to make you the stupid Head Boy,” Sirius grumbles. “And I don’t even have a bloody hair care routine, Jamie, you should know that the generational inbreeding took care of that.”

James laughs, trying not to show just how much he agrees with Sirius’ words and heads over to the bathroom with Sirius hot on his heels despite his muttered complaints. Not five minutes, later, Remus and Peter are barging in and kicking them out for taking too long, and James throws Sirius a smug I-told-you-so grin. Sirius rolls his eyes. 

As they’re pulling on their uniforms, Sirius approaches James with an uncharacteristic hesitation. “Prongs,” he begins. “We’re mates, right?”

James nods. “Obviously.” 

“I was thinking, we always share a bed, right?” 

“Right,” James says slowly, unsure of where this is heading.

“And are constantly with each other and want to be near each other, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So I was thinking—” he’s cut off by the bathroom door slamming open and Remus coming out.

“Morning,” he greets them. “Have you seen my sweater? The one with—”

“In my trunk,” James interrupts. Remus pulls it out with a triumphant grin and pecks James on the cheek. “I need to leave a little early to talk to Minnie about my last essay,” he says as he rushes out the door. “See you at breakfast.” 

There’s silence for a minute before Peter rushes out similarly to Remus just had. Finally free of their dormmates, James turns to Sirius with a raised eyebrow. Go on.  

“Y’know how there’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up?”

“Sure, so?”

“Well, I was thinking that I’d rather not be accosted by a bunch of people asking for a date when we’re not interested. So let’s pretend we’re dating.”

James blinks, stares, and blinks again. “Come again?”

Sirius sighs, his fingers fiddling with the hems of his sleeves. James thinks he sees the beginning of a light blush on his cheeks, but he also thinks Sirius just said he wants to date him so his mental facilities were clearly malfunctioning. Until Sirius repeats, more slowly this time, “Let’s pretend we’re dating.”

He had heard Sirius loud and clear the first time, but he still can't believe what he’s hearing. He’s not nearly awake or caffeinated enough to handle the love of his life asking him out. Never mind that Sirius wants it to be fake, whatever that means. 

“Um,” he starts. “Wait, what exactly do you—”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Jamie,” Sirius says exasperatedly. “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend to stop random people from confessing to me. Last week a bloke sent a dwarf to sing me a poem about how he’s going to drink a potion to spontaneously create himself a vagina so I can put babies in him. Like, what the fuck, no thank you.”

“You…didn’t tell me that,” James says, wide-eyed with a mixture of horror and awe. Before he can filter his words — though Merlin knows is his brain is capable of that now — he blurts out, “I’ll do it, obviously, but why me?”

“You know what everyone says, we’re basically a married couple already. Nobody else can make it convincing enough. You’re the best candidate.”

“And Remus can’t because…?”

“You know he’s got his eyes on Regulus.” Sirius scrunches his nose and makes a disgusted sound. “Which is, like, wrong on so many levels I wouldn’t even know where to begin."

James lets out a stangled laugh. “Okay, I get it. But why me, and you know, not someone you actually want to ask out?”

“If I wanted to ask someone out, I wouldn’t be having this problem, now would I?” Sirius retorts. “Besides, you were complaining after Potions the other day about how you caught some girls sneaking Amortentia to slip into our drinks. I was thinking, this way we both benefit and it’s not as awkward as it would be with a stranger.”

This was starting to sound like a horrible idea, but James knew he was going to go through with it regardless as soon as Sirius made his offer. “We’ll need a cover story if we want to get anyone to believe us.”

Sirius nods, pulling James behind him and they make their way down to the Great Hall. “That’s easy since most people think we’re dating already. Let’s just say that we fancied each other for years. It all came to a head this summer when I moved in with you. We’ve actually been dating since summer but we’re only making it official now.”

James hums as he thinks it over. “And Moony and Pete don’t know about this?”

Sirius waves his hand in a careless gesture. “Eh. We’ll tell them the real reason later.” He eyes James carefully, then laces their fingers together. “The rumours will start faster this way,” he says by way of explanation, and James prays on all the gods he doesn’t believe in that Sirius doesn’t notice his racing heartbeat. 

As predicted, whispers and curious glances towards the pair begin as soon as they enter the Great Hall. Sirius turns to James with a gleeful grin and pulls on his hand to press a kiss on his knuckles. There are some squeals and James thinks he sees a third-year pass out, and he’d be lying if he weren’t close to doing the same. 

“What the fuck, you guys,” Remus hisses to them as they sit down. “We were gone for less than ten minutes!”

“We’ll have you know, our darling, precious Moonbeam,” says Sirius, “that James and I are very efficient. Would’ve been a shame if it took longer than that to declare our undying love to each other.”

Remus scoffs. “Would’ve been normal, you mean, considering that your love is neither undying nor existent.”

“How dare you. We are disgustingly in love, I’ll have you know,” Sirius counters, and wraps an arm around James pointedly. James flushes and turns away from Remus’ knowing gaze.

This was going to be a long week.

It doesn’t take long before everyone in Hogwarts is aware of the relationship status of the school’s two most desired students. Most of the upper years congratulate them as they collect their bet winnings and comment on how good they look together, and one fifth-year shyly tells them that their bravery to come out helped them come out to their friends too. 

In hindsight, James realizes that coming out wasn’t even a factor in his decision to fake a relationship. It’s never been a secret that he was bisexual, but it makes sense that a lot of people are surprised since he never publicly announced it. He expects to feel somewhat uneasy, but it’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pattern with his best friend. Sirius was right in that there are hardly any differences in their relationship now that they’re dating — apart from random pecks and hand-holding, which never fail to make James’ stomach explode with butterflies. 

Later that week, when all the sixth-year Gryffindors are lounging on the sofas nearest to the fire, Lily looks at them cheekily. “You boys are remembering to use protection, right?” she asks with a grin. James sputters and throws a pillow at her. Sirius just laughs and reassures her that, yes, darling, of course we are.

James wishes what Sirius said was true. He mostly wishes that he wasn’t in love with his best friend and that he had never agreed to this stupid plan. While he had always pined from afar before, it was much harder to hide his feelings when the object of his desires was now so close.  

“This is the place?” Regulus asks doubtfully, eyeing two little girls in pigtails eating a cloud of pink fluff near the entryway. “The Muggle — uh, park for amusement?”

Remus bounces in excitement, eyes lit up. “Yes! I’m so glad you all agreed to come. This place has been one of my favourite places since I was young.” 

Regulus’ eyes soften as he reaches over to fix his boyfriend’s scarf. “Then I’m glad you brought me here.”

Sirius mimes gagging as the new couple rolls their eyes. James grins and nudges Sirius. 

“ You’re the one who agreed to have a double date instead of eating through our Honeydukes stash together,” he reminds him. 

Sirius huffs. “You can’t expect to resist Reg when he does those eyes on me! And Remus joining in? I was doomed from the start.”

“Says the one who’s actually a dog,” Regulus deadpans. “You of all people should be immune to puppy eyes.”

“I think becoming an Animagus made me less immune, actually,” Sirius muses. “It’s probably to prepare if I ever become a puppy dad.”

Regulus blanches while James and Remus crack up. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Remus says, laughing. “Remember that lady at the park near Lils’ place with the poodle?”

James bends over with laughter while Sirius shoves them both. “I hate you two! You promised you wouldn’t!”

“Wait, no, I need to know this,” Regulus is grinning evilly, the look worthy of a Black. “Tell me more?”

Remus takes his hand. “With pleasure.”

Sirius puts his nose in the air and huffs again. “That’s my cue to take my leave. James, come with?”

“You look like Mum like that,” Regulus tells him. When Sirius glares at him, he laughs. “That makes the resemblance even better.” Sirius rolls his eyes and turns to James.

“Yeah, okay, but it’s your fault if we get lost,” James replies. He takes a map and bids the other two goodbye, promising to meet them near the food court at lunch. 

“I won’t get lost. I have you, remember?” Sirius says. James raises an eyebrow.

“That would be romantic, but I’m hardly any better than you at navigating this place.”

“At least we’ll have fun?”

“Why are you saying that like a question?”

“My most sincerest apologies. We’ll most definitely have fun!”

“Better.”

“Idiot.”

“Hey, at least I’m your idiot now.”  

Sirius looks over at him with an unreadable expression. “This is fake, Prongs.”

James feels his throat tighten. “Yeah, I know,” he says and tries to ignore the unpleasant clench of his stomach. He thinks he’s successful, but Sirius’ keen gaze seems to read right through the act.

The music playing on a loop as they pass the Tunnel O’ Love overlaps chaotically with excited yells and sounds of carnival games, and sweet, fatty smells mingle with the pine in the air. Sirius leads James along a curling path to a blue-and-gold ticket booth near the entrance, proudly pulling out a stack of Muggle money Remus had given him. 

“I’ll get us two tickets, while you can figure out where you want to go first,” he tells James and hands over a map from the ticket booth. James eyes his arse appreciatively while he flirts with the ticket woman, but quickly averts his gaze when she looks at him knowingly.

James stares at the colourful piece of paper, trying to figure out how to read it. “Does the — uh, does the House of Mirrors sound okay?”

“What, you want to get lost for real? Relying on me, who’s never spoken to a Muggle in my life, to navigate a Muggle wonderland isn’t doing enough for you?”

James shoves him and has to resist a grin when Sirius barks out his laughter. “I’m joking! That sounds fine,” Sirius says, now holding two tickets and a business card with a hastily scrawled number on it. “I’d love to start the day staring at myself from all angles. And you, of course. You’re pretty easy on the eyes.”

“Aww, did my darling Padfoot just say I’m good-looking?” James teases. Sirius rolls his eyes but he can’t hide the smile on his face. 

“Stop fishing for compliments. You know you are."

James’ face flushes. He doesn’t respond while he buys them both churros, some Muggle sweet that tastes like heaven. It’s sweet on his tongue and it helps to distract him a little from the cooler October winds and the sight Sirius makes. He tries not to notice how Sirius moves closer to him for warmth when a large gust hits them, but he can’t ignore the warmth that fills him when he does.

“Is this it?” Sirius asks after a long but comfortable silence. He eyes the pink archway over the entrance of the House of Mirrors distrustfully. 

James nods, face illuminated by the neon lights crisscrossing over the room. “You want to see who can make it out first?”

“Oh, you’re on.” Sirius doesn’t wait a second before taking off to the right. James laughs and takes a left. 

The sound of people hustling through the maze fades as James takes a few steps in. He meets an expected pane of glass and turns right into a new room framed with arches of light. Starting to become more purposeful with his turns, and trying to recall the map of the maze from the entrance, he changes directions but is met with glass. He tries again, with no success.

He’s trying to stay calm, but eventually, the fact that he’s lost and alone and stuck in a glass maze in a Muggle park with no Sirius around starts to become unnerving. His pulse quickens, and he tells himself to keep moving. 

Another glass wall. Keep moving. 

He spins left. Keep moving. 

He’s about to turn right — keep moving — but he slams into someone as he rounds the corner. “Shit,” they gasp, clutching their neck. “Are you okay?”

James nods. He’s feeling a bit dazed so it takes him a moment to realize. “Wait, Sirius? Oh bloody fuck, did I bite you?”

The other person — Sirius — sputters out a laugh. “James? Yeah, you did. It’s okay, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Sirius. I have blood on my teeth, and I don’t think it’s mine.”

Sirius winces. “Yeah, well, I’ve dealt with worse than a bitten collarbone.”

“If it helps, I don’t have rabies.”

“Why would that help? And also, you might have rabies as Prongs.”

A pensive look crosses James’ face. “Wait, you think? Oh shit, let me take a look.”

Sirius stills, then shrugs James’ hand off his shoulder. “I said I’m fine.”

“And I said, let me see.” Without waiting for Sirius’ response, James steps closer to inspect the teeth marks. This close, he can smell Sirius’ peppermint toothpaste and their shared shampoo and something warm and a little earthy, and he can see how the glow of Sirius’ skin under the fluorescent lighting gives him an almost alien-like look. James swallows and wills his blood back up. His best friend’s bleeding, and he’s getting a hard-on. What the fuck?

He distracts himself with healing the small cuts. “There. Good as new,” he says and steps back quickly, only for Sirius to grab his wrist. His grey eyes are dark, reflecting the pink and blue lights overhead. 

“Prongs,” he murmurs. “If you want to—” 

“Yeah,” James breathes out, voice ragged and low. “Anything you want.”

Sirius lets his hand trail up James’ arm, pushing up the sleeve of his sweatshirt and leaving goosebumps in his wake. There’s a split second of hesitation before he’s leaning in, and then James can’t think of anything other than Sirius, his best friend and better half, who smells edible and tastes like the churros they were having earlier and who’s doing something with his tongue that has James gasping and pushing Sirus back against the glass. There’s a crash nearby and some people laughing and they’re springing apart, eyes wide and dark. 

“Why haven’t we been doing this forever?” Sirius breathes. “Fuck, Prongs. That was…”

“Yeah,” James agrees, but he’s unsure what he’s agreeing to. “Wait, what?”

“We should’ve been doing this all along,” Sirius repeats. “I mean, we are dating.”

“Fake,” James automatically says. He thinks he sees disappointment flash across Sirius’ features, but puts it to a trick of the light. 

“Right. Let’s get out of here, yeah? The others will be wondering where we are.”

“Okay,” James says quietly. He’s feeling somewhat off-centre from the kiss and the conversation afterwards, so he leans against Sirius and smiles when he lets him take his hand. 

They seem to walk for hours, and James could swear they went past the same benches a few times, but it feels much easier with Sirius by his side. As soon as the thought forms, as though he can read his mind, Sirius turns to James and gives him a breathtaking smile. “I like it better when you’re with me,” he says softly. 

James stills, heart racing. Between the kiss and now this, he’s feeling rather shaky. “Me too,” he replies quickly, then notices the intensity of the noise here. There’s a barely visible gap between two mirrors facing out, and James grins. 

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I win,” James says with a laugh, slipping between the glass panes and out into the open air. Sirius comes following, hot on his heels, and whirls to face James. 

“That’s not fair! We were having a moment and I was distracted!”

“Nobody told you to get all sappy on me,” James retorts. “As the winner, I choose the next place we go to.”

“You chose this place too,” Sirius grumbles, but begrudgingly gives James the win. 

“I want to go there.” James points to a large open canopy, under which there seem to be millions of children. “Please?”

“I’m not playing against babies, ” Sirius says. “There’s no way.”

“Your loss. Watch me then, you sore loser.” James grins when Sirius flips him the bird.

“Wait, no, look! Isn’t that Remus?”

James looks around and brightens when he sees him. “Yes! Oh wow, I’m actually hungry. Race you!”

Sirius shakes his head in disbelief then runs off to catch up. 

After lunch, when their stomachs are full of burgers and what Remus calls funnel cakes, James insists on playing until he wins a huge dog plush. He spends the Muggle equivalent of 20 galleons and is about to try again when Remus grabs him by the arm to drag him away. He’s whining and struggling against him when Regulus comes over. 

“Reggie! Tell your boyfriend to let me go!”

Regulus turns to Sirius. “Is this about that toy?”

“I need to win that for Sirius! Think of my dignity, I can’t let toddlers win games that I can’t!”

Sirius pulls James against him. “I don’t need a mediocre representation of my beautiful Animagus form, love. It’s fine if they win.”

“No,” James gasps. “Not you too!”

“It’s not your fault you’re bad at kid games,” Regulus teases. 

“Oi, these machines are rigged against us magical folk anyways,” Sirius consoles, ruffling James’ hair. The three of them have to physically drag his thrashing body away a minute later when a kid no older than four comes up to the machine right after them and manages to win the plush in one go.

“Wha—how in the world—can I steal it from him?”

Remus raises an eyebrow. “You’re not stealing a toy from a four-year-old, James, what happened to your morals?”

“I lost it with my dignity!”

Regulus laughs. “Close your mouth, James, flies are gonna go in.”

“But—But my Padfoot plushie—”

“How dare you insinuate that that crappy fabric monstrosity is me. ”

James sniffles. “It was beautiful. It would’ve kept me so warm at night.”

“What am I for?”

“Your feet are too cold,” James says miserably. “I wanted that!”

Sirius purses his lips. “For that, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

James blinks. “You don’t mean that. I can’t get my plushie, and now I won’t get Siri snuggles?”

Regulus and Remus crack up, and Sirius shakes his head with an amused huff. James pouts the entire way home.

“Uh, Sirius? What are you doing?” James asks, surprised to see Sirius waiting for him outside detention. “You’re supposed to be at dinner.”

“I was waiting for you to finish,” Sirius says, smoothing down nonexistent dust from the dark Muggle jeans he’s wearing. “Come on, we’re going out.”

“What?”

“I’m treating you to dinner. Being a proper boyfriend and all that.”

James blinks. “We’re not proper boyfriends.”

Sirius glances up. “Do you want to be?”

What. James has no idea how to respond to that so he busies himself with transfiguring his robes to something more casual. He lets himself get dragged to the Three Broomsticks where they have shepherd’s pie, drink too much Butterbeer, and call it dinner. Between the good food and good company, James can’t bring himself to complain, even though Sirius is acting a lot weirder than usual.

“I was thinking,” Sirius begins. The two of them are curled around each other on a sofa in front of the fire, watching Remus and Regulus play Exploding Snap. It’s a Friday night, and they’re pushing off their homework to Sunday.

“Oh no,” James groans theatrically. “Last time you said that, we had to start dating!”

Sirius shoves him. “Oh, fuck off.” Then, noticing others looking their way with confused glances, Sirius raises his voice. “Yes, and how good did the idea come out to be?”

James catches his drift. “Yeah, it was one of your better ideas for sure.” He leans down to kiss him without thinking and freezes when he realizes what he just did. They’re both still for a second before Sirius flips them over and snogs him so thoroughly that James thinks he probably won’t get the taste of him out for a week.

Regulus throws a cushion at them. “Get a room, you insufferable wankers.”

Sirius flips him off. “Remember that when you’re sucking Moony’s face off, you tosser.”

Remus winces. “Why are you so crude?”

Sirius ignores him, turning back to James. “So I was thinking, we should go see your parents this weekend.”

“Like right now?” James asks, bewildered. 

“Our relationship has been the talk of the school for a few weeks now. I think they’d appreciate hearing it from us before they get it from someone else.”

James sits up quickly, nearly knocking Sirius over. “Fuck, I did not think this would go so far.”

“Why, are you ashamed of me?”

“No! I just don’t want to, you know, lie to my parents about dating my best friend. Who’s basically their son? Is that incest?”

“It doesn’t have to be a lie,” Sirius says quietly. “And ew, what the hell, Prongs, why would this be incest!” 

James stares at him. “Why do you keep saying that when you’re the one who came up with the whole fake part of this?”

Sirius looks away. “Never mind. Do you want to go now? Because Minnie’s probably still awake. We could use her Floo.”

James stares for a moment longer. “Um, okay.”

He heads toward the portrait hole, missing the worried look Remus and Regulus shoot toward Sirius. 

“James! Sirius! What a surprise, I missed you both so much!” Euphemia says happily as she grabs them in a tight hug. “You’ve already grown so much and it’s only been a few months!”

James smiles as he leans down to kiss her head, tension leaving his shoulders at her embrace. “We missed you too, Mum. Where’s Dad?”

“In the office, I presume. Oh, come here, you,” she pulls Sirius over to kiss his cheeks. Sirius smiles, cheeks turning pink, and squeezes her back just as hard.

“What’s this?” Fleamont asks as he walks over. “Well, would you look at that, my sons finally remembered they have parents!”

James watches as Sirius stiffens with a flush before relaxing with a brilliant smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping in touch as much as I want to. We’re so busy with school.”

Fleamont laughs. “I’m just messing with you.” He grabs James into a headlock, which James resists for half a minute before giving up. Pressing a kiss on his son’s forehead, he turns to Sirius and greets him the same way.

“I can’t say I’m unhappy with this surprise, but why so sudden? I wasn’t expecting either of you two.” Euphemia pulls them over to the living room and calls their house-elf to prepare something for them to eat, despite their insistence of having already eaten dinner.

There’s a few minutes of tense silence. “Well, it’s just that—” James tries to begin, but gets interrupted by the house-elf returning with tea and biscuits.

“We’re dating,” Sirius blurts out. He’s watching Euphemia and Fleamont with a steady glance, face betraying nothing. James stares at him, wishing he could vanish into thin air. He’s gotten used to introducing themselves as boyfriends to the people at school, so it shouldn’t sound so foreign, but in front of his parents, he feels stripped bare. 

Fleamont sets down his teacup and Euphemia pauses. James watches tentatively as their expressions morph into one of surprise before shifting to joy. Fleamont’s smile twitches and Euphemia’s eyes glitter merrily. 

“I can’t say we didn’t expect this,” Euphemia says, tea all but forgotten as she leans forward to take their hands in hers. “When did this start?”

“Over the summer, but we didn’t know how to tell you,” Sirius replies once he realizes that James has lost all ability to function. “We made it official a little bit into the school year.”

Fleamont grins. “No wonder you were so eager to get away this year.”

Sirius laughs. James wants to die. “I can’t help it. I just want James all to myself, even when he’s right next to me.”

Euphemia coos. “I can’t believe Sirius is the first boyfriend you brought home for us to meet, James. You’re getting all grown up, aren’t you?” she says, pinching his cheeks and James pulls away in embarrassment. 

There’s a part of him that wants to confess and tell them that they’re not actually a couple and it was just a silly mistake, but he can’t bring himself to. Not when they’re both looking at them so excited about their relationship. He knows it will hurt them more if — when — they inevitably call this off, but for now, he selfishly doesn’t want to ruin the moment.

James thinks he should feel more guilty about lying to his friends and family about being in a relationship. But strangely, he doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because no matter how much he tries to deny it, the truth isn’t too far off from the lies that he’s telling them.

Later, he comes into the kitchen to help his mum put away the tea. She leans against him when he hugs her from behind and rests her hands on his. They’re wrinkled and rough from age and labour, but they’re just as familiar as James remembered.

Euphemia lets out a deep breath. “I worry for you two sometimes.” 

James frowns. “Why? We’re doing fine, both Sirius and I.”

She closes her eyes and James feels his throat pinch. She looks so fragile in his arms. “Both of you always put each other before yourselves,” she says. “Even if it comes at the cost of your own happiness. I worry that there will be a time where you both think you’re doing what will benefit the other, but will only cause a divide between you two.”

James hums into her hair. “You don’t need to worry about that, Mum. Sirius and I share a brain cell, remember? Nothing can divide us.” 

She laughs and he leans down to kiss her quickly when he hears her whisper, “Jamie, I’m going to tell him this too because you’re both my boys. I love you both to pieces, but if he dares to hurt you, dump him. You deserve only the best.”

He can’t help but laugh, but he feels hollow. Who could be better than Sirius? And why would they want me when my best friend doesn’t?

On Monday morning, James is called into Dumbledore’s office for a Head meeting. As he walks alongside Lily, she gently nudges him to face her.

“I’m so happy for you, James,” she tells him seriously. “Am I a little miffed that you got with Sirius right when we started getting along? A little. But you two are so perfect for each other, it’s hard to be anything but happy for you.”

James tilts his head in confusion. “What do you mean? We’ve always been close, so this is hardly any different from what we were like before.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Yes, but since you two started dating, both of you seem, I don’t know, lighter.”

“We’ve always been happy together. Even as friends.” James fights the urge to say that they’re still just friends.

“Mhm, sure, but you were less attached.” At James’ disbelieving laugh, she amends, “Like, you two would be together, but both of you obviously wanted more. And now you have that, so you two look less lonely.”

James says nothing. She nudges him again and makes a face, and they both start giggling. It would’ve been so easy to be in love with Lily, James thinks, as he watches her dimples come out as she laughs. Her red hair falls in waves behind her, and James wishes he still wanted to wrap his hands in it as he once did. 

“What if… what if I told you that we’re not in a real relationship?” he asks quietly. As soon as it’s out, he wishes he could take it back.

Lily’s eyes narrow. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“We did this so people wouldn’t make a big deal of asking us out to Hogmeade,” James says in a rush. “We’re just pretending to be dating. We’re not anything more than best mates.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you just pretending to like him?”

James squirms. He feels exposed under Lily’s sharp gaze. “Yes.”

“Really.” Lily’s tone is flat and gives no indication as to what she thinks, but James hears her disbelief loud and clear. He’s just grateful that she masked her surprise well.

“Okay, so maybe I like him a tiny bit more than I let on,” James admits. 

Lily nods. “So obviously, I’m right. So? When are you telling him?”

James makes an indignant squawk. “Why would I risk ruining our friendship like that?”

Lily purses her lips. “How are you so sure that your friendship with him will be ruined? Last I checked, you could kill his entire family and he’d still worship the ground you walk on.”

“He hates his family, save for Regulus. And I’d never kill Regulus so that’s hardly saying anything.”

Lily makes a frustrated noise. “James. Even before this fake dating ruse, neither of you can fall asleep unless you’re cuddling each other. You’re constantly talking to him or about him. If either of you are ever separated, you have a mirror to talk through for the few minutes that you’re not joined at the hip. How much more oblivious can any two people get?”

James huffs. “That’s only because Sirius is comfy and interesting and brilliant and funny and gorgeous and understands me more than anyone else.”

When Lily says nothing, he looks over and sees her staring at him in a McGonagall-esque manner. “Okay,” he concedes. “So maybe I fancy him a lot, and maybe he likes me back. Emphasis on the maybe. If I confess, and he doesn’t feel the same, what then?”

“Then blame it on me. To save you from your misery, I’ll marry you and we’ll have seven babies and start our own Quidditch team,” Lily says, deadpan. James laughs and puts his arm around her.

“Sounds like a plan,” he tells her happily. “I’ll be the best, most doting husband and father ever.”

She smiles indulgently and hugs him back.

Winter holidays come around quickly. Regulus had come by during the day with Remus but they’ve long since gone. To pass the time, James and Sirius nick some Firewhisky stashed in Fleamont’s study and are passing the bottle between them when James decides to ruin his night. 

“Why did you choose to fake a relationship with me when you could’ve gotten into a real one with someone you fancy?” he blurts out. His brain-mouth filter is fuzzy after having too much to drink. 

“I like spending time with you,” Sirius replies matter-of-factly, as though nothing could be more obvious. “Why hang out with some stupid stranger when I could be with you?”

“Not what I meant.” Sirius looks so pretty, James thinks, staring at the pink flush starting to spread across his cheeks as he drinks more alcohol. They were sitting cross-legged on the floor of James’ bedroom when they first took out the bottle, but now they’ve manoeuvred so that their legs are intertwined and they’re heavily leaning on each other.

James can see the flutter of Sirius’ dark eyelashes whenever he turns to face him. Moonlight illuminates his face from the gap between the curtains, turning his eyes silver. His bottom lip is redder than the top from biting down on it. It’s soft and plump and seems to be beckoning James near. 

A siren’s call. That’s what Sirius was — a siren. Tantalizing, perfect, untouchable. Dangerous to get too close to.

“I’m tired of people wanting to have a part of me without taking the time and effort to understand me. They don’t even know me — I mean, they think they do, but all they see is the popular Hogwarts heartthrob, the rule-breaker and prankster. The black sheep of the Black family.” Sirius’ eyes are glassy from the whiskey, but his gaze seems sad and far away for an entirely different reason.

“That’s not true. I see you,” James says, watching Sirius blink up at him. It feels awfully domestic to be sitting here, away from everyone in just their ugly comfort clothes and baggy sweats. Sirius has a flower clip stuck to his hair that’s nearly slipping off of his bangs and all of his earrings have been put away for the night. They’re just them, and James wants to take a picture to capture it forever.

“But that’s ‘cause you’re you, Jamie. I couldn’t keep a part of myself away from you even if I tried.”

“Not the part of yourself that’s saved for your future special person.”

“You’re my special person, Jamie. There’s no one else.” Sirius waves a hand in front of James’ face and James intertwines their hands together instinctively, mindlessly rubbing circles into the back of Sirius’ hands with his thumb. He drops his bottle to trace over his knuckles with his other hand and presses a kiss onto each raised bone. Sirius’ breath hitches.

“You don’t want me like that, Pads.” James has no idea why he says that. He wants to remain in this ignorant bubble they created in his room for a little longer before Sirius inevitably rejects him. There’s a strange tension filling the air and James feels like he’s drowning. The only anchor he has is the weight of Sirius’ hand in his, but that’s not enough, not when Sirius doesn’t feel the same way, not when James wants more than what Sirius can give, not when James is so fucking greedy he’ll take everything Sirius offers and still beg for more. 

He doesn’t realize that they’re both holding their breaths. All of his attention is focused on the warm, reassuring weight of Sirius’ hand in his, the fingers long and thin and callused from Quidditch. James’ hands are slightly larger and wrap around Sirius’ like two puzzle pieces fit together, just like the two of them. Golden brown on paler white, a work of art.

Like a moth to a flame, James scoots over to Sirius. The small rational part of his mind screams at him to pull away before he hurts himself and Sirius and their beautiful, wonderful relationship. It may be the Firewhiskey or it may be the months of pining, but all rationale flies out the window when Sirius beams at him, wide and unburdened and brighter than his namesake, so fucking perfect it hurts.

“You’re wrong, Prongs,” Sirius whispers. Their faces are inches away from each other. James can’t help but trace lines down the side of his jaw, feeling the 5 o'clock shadow there.  “You’re so wrong, bloody hell, I don’t know what I’d even do without you. Burn the world down to get you back, probably, or become the next Dark Lord. I’d do it all, for you.” 

James stills. He can feel Sirius’ breath fan across his face and can almost hear his racing heartbeat. Or maybe that’s his own. His head is spinning, and everything is starting to feel too real. He needs space, needs to get away before he does something he’ll regret.

He pulls away from Sirius, dropping his hand and pushing to his feet. He swallows down the lump in his throat and tries to ignore the way Sirius flinches, a look of hurt marring his face. James is about to reach again, apology at the tip of his tongue, but he reminds himself that it’s for their own good. 

Sirius is drunk, after all, and it won’t mean anything come morning. It hasn’t meant anything so far, and if he makes one mistake, everything they take for granted could come crashing down. Best to stop it before it’s too late.

“It’s getting late,” James forces out. It takes almost all of his effort to plaster an unaffected smile on his face. His hands clench at his sides, longing for Sirius’ warmth. “We should go to bed.”

He stumbles into the loo to wash his face, knees shaking so much that he knocks into the edge of his bed. He refuses to turn around, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from giving in upon seeing the expression on Sirius’ face. He promised himself years ago that he would never be the cause of Sirius’ misery, and doing this to both of them makes him feel like the biggest arse in the world.

When he returns, Sirius is on their bed, curled into himself on the very edge. James wants to reach out to hold him close and whisper sweet nothings into his ear to take away his discomfort, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He falls into a restless sleep, wishing for the millionth time that he was a better man. Maybe then he wouldn’t make so many mistakes.

Before long, classes start again. Amidst piling assignments, Quidditch practice, Head duties, and career planning meetings with McGonagall, James barely has time to spend time alone with Sirius. Since that drunken night at home, Sirius has stopped squeezing into his bed every night, leaving James alone with the dark, a strangely cold bed, and racing thoughts.  James doesn’t know whether to consider it a blessing or a curse. If anything, the distance only makes him think about Sirius more. 

If James had any self-control, he’d stop himself from remembering how Sirius had looked that night. But the past few months of stolen kisses and lingering touches had crumbled any control James had over his thoughts, and he often found himself imagining how Sirius’ flushing skin and loose tongue. The slope of his neck as he leaned against him. The cold, gentle slide of his fingers across James’ bare thighs. The painful avoidance in the following days, the awkward silences and betrayed glances. 

It’s that last memory that forces James to face his reality and bury his overwhelming feelings in the recesses of his mind. He knows he wears his heart on his sleeve, that he laughs effortlessly, cries easily, and cares fiercely. But another part of him knows that to keep Sirius from being scared away by the intensity of his love, he must hide those parts of himself. And so he keeps a distance and ignores Sirius’ flinches and sad eyes. 

He’s doing loops over the Quidditch field the afternoon of his birthday, trying to calm his emotions. He’d been ecstatic when he woke up to a surprise birthday breakfast in the common room with students from all houses and his parents calling over the Floo, but that excitement had been damped when he realized Sirius wasn’t there. It wasn’t uncommon lately for Sirius to slip away in the mornings before James woke up, but he’d been hoping to settle the tension between them to enjoy his birthday with his favourite person.

He looks down when a Hufflepuff third-year calls his name from the sidelines. She’s holding a large gift bag and waving to get his attention.

“Sirius told me to give this to you,” the younger girl says while handing him the bag. “I don’t know why he couldn’t just give it to you himself when he saw you this morning. Something about not being able to give it to you because he has some modelling gig. Since when does Sirius model?”

“He doesn’t,” James replies, bewildered. “Why did he say that?”

The girl shrugs. “Don’t ask me. You’re the only one who can make sense of the stuff he says.” With that, she goes back to the castle, leaving James alone.

Inside the bag is a box of Honeydukes’ chocolates — an assortment of hibiscus raspberry and cardamom orange, which meant Sirius had taken the time to custom-order James’ favourite seasonal flavours. James feels a pleasant warmth pooling in his gut, touched at Sirius’ thoughtfulness despite the past few weeks of strained friendship. 

There’s another larger box with a red ribbon wrapped around it. James gasps when he sees what’s in it, before laughing in disbelief. 

It’s a large, black dog plushie wearing a leather jacket and holding a wand. 

There’s a note attached to the ribbon and James instantly recognizes Sirius’ neat, small handwriting. It reads,

Happy birthday Jamie! You may be of age now but know that I am still older and that if you don’t continue to treat me as a respected elder, I will make you regret it. But I guess I’d rather you treat me as a child than have to endure this distance you’ve put between us. It was that night during the hols, wasn’t it? I freaked you out with my feelings. I knew I should’ve kept my distance, but you should’ve seen yourself. Moonlit and dark-lidded and, as usual, breathtaking.  

Anyway, I love you despite your idiotic tendencies to push people away when you think you’re not good enough for them or whatever bullshit your mind spews out. (I can imagine your raised eyebrow as you call me a hypocrite, but let me have this.) Hope we can go back to normal sooner rather than later; it feels strange to not have you with me constantly. 

Xx Your favourite Marauder, Padfoot 

James’ gut churns while his mind scrambles to make sense of the words. Sirius had feelings? For him? He loved him? All this time, he was trying to protect his heart by distancing himself, but he never considered if Sirius had meant what he had said that night. The proof was right there.

And yet, it felt too good to be true.

The dorm is empty when James comes in, but the map is conveniently on Remus’ nightstand. Taking it with him, he finds Sirius seated in a window of an empty corridor on the third floor, resting his elbows on his knees and looking outside. He turns when he hears footsteps. His grey eyes widen for a fraction of a second when he sees James, before setting into a resigned expression.

“Modeling gig?” is the first thing that comes out of James’ mouth. “What the hell, Sirius.”

“Why are you here?” Sirius asks quietly. He looks withdrawn and guarded, and the look sends a pang through James’ chest. 

“I got your note.” James sits next to Sirius on the small seat and purses his lips when Sirius immediately pulls his feet close to himself. “I didn’t know—”

“It doesn’t matter, James,” Sirius bites back. His eyes, blank just moments before, is not bright with anger and hurt. His hands tremble where he’s clutching his knees, and he pauses to glare at them for a moment before continuing. “I know where I stand. You made it plenty clear. I just wanted to get it out of the way so I wouldn’t have to deal with this… this whole uncertainty when it comes to you. I know I won’t get what I want, and you know this too, so can we just pretend we talked about everything we needed to talk about and go back to normal?”

“What if I don’t want to go back to normal?” James retorts. He’s starting to feel a little angry himself. 

In an instant, Sirius deflates, eyes looking lost once again. “I don’t — I don’t understand. I know I messed up, but I didn’t think — I mean, is it such a bad thing for me to love you? I’d change it if I could, but somehow, my heart’s not getting the message.”

Shit, James thinks. He never wanted to make Sirius feel like he was at fault when it was James who ruined everything by catching feelings and panicking as soon as he realised them. 

Taking the silence for a response, Sirius sighs. “Look, I’m sorry it’s making you uncomfortable. Believe me, I’m doing everything I can to stop myself from feeling this way. Just — don’t push me away. If this is about that stupid deal, you can call it off. Dae other people. You’ve done more than enough for me. I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you want it to end.”

“Don’t stop,” James blurts out. “Don’t stop feeling everything you just said.”

“What?”

“It’s just that — I don’t want to pretend anymore.” Words spill out before James can think, and he’s hoping somehow Sirius will be able to understand what he’s trying to get at. “I don’t want to fake a relationship with you, because it’s getting too much.”

Sirius inhales sharply and nods, a little frantic. “Okay, yeah, okay. Totally. I understand. We don’t have to do this anymore. Consider yourself back on the market.”

“That’s not what I meant.” James can feel the frustration simmering under his skin. Unconsciously, his hands reach to grasp at the closest part of Sirius — his ankles — and he uses them to pull Sirius closer. A distant memory flickers into his mind of the night when they had last sat like this, legs intertwined. Mouths millimetres apart, cheeks flushed, breath hot and heavy. 

“I kept a distance from you because I was scared you wouldn’t feel the same way,” James says quietly. “I didn’t want to hurt you or myself, but I guess I failed anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t I feel the same way? Wait, how do you feel—”

“I’m in love with you, okay?” James says. It comes out louder than he meant for it to. There’s shocked silence on Sirius’ end as James’ words hang between them. James takes a deep breath. 

“I’ve been in love with you since fifth year,” he continues at a normal volume. “Lily and I had that Transfiguration project and I learned throughout that I don’t see her as anything more than a friend. The flirting had become a habit by then, I think, so I didn’t see it until we had to work together. It’s nothing like the way we click with each other. So yeah, I guess I love you. Too. Holy shit, you love me back, Si.”

Sirius laughs, a breathless little thing before his lips are on James’ and the rest of the world fades. Before, when Sirius had kissed him, James had felt like he was drowning, so wrapped in the scent and feel of his best friend that the emotions were overwhelming. Now, with the knowledge that his feelings were reciprocated, he feels like he’s floating, safe in Sirius’ embrace.

“I dreamed about this for ages,” Sirius murmurs as he sits back. “That’s the whole reason I started this whole fake dating thing. I didn’t think I’d have much luck asking you out properly, so I pulled this to, ah, test the waters, if you will.”

James snickers. “So all of this was what, a free trial?”

“Yes,” Sirius murmurs against his neck. James’ breathing hitches. “And I’m feeling very satisfied with the service thus far. But I can’t leave a fair review without testing out all the features. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh — ah, fuck — what did you have in mind?” James can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but pant as Sirius works his fingers into his hair and pulls, kissing him hard the whole time. When Sirius trails a hand down to cup James’ arse through his trousers, James feels his heart stop. 

There’s a wicked grin on Sirius’ face. “Now that I’ve tasted you up here, I kind of want to taste you down there too. See if the tastes match. Or something. I don’t know, I just want to blow you right now.”

James squeaks. “Like, right here? Aren’t we going too fast?”

Sirius sombers. “Jamie,” he whispers. “I’ve been wanting you since we were thirteen. If anything, I think we’re going too slow. But if you’re not ready, I can wait. I’ve waited four years for you, and I will wait four million more if that’s what you want.”

James nods quickly. “I want you too. So much. I’ve been going crazy these past few months trying not to jump into your lap and snog you senseless.”

Sirius smiles. It’s a soft, little thing, and James knows it’s meant only for him. “What’s keeping you now?”

James ducks his head with a blush. “I — can we go to our dorms first?”

“Oh, Prongs,” Sirius says with a shake of his head. “One day I’ll introduce you to the high of doing this in public.”

“You’re such an exhibitionist. No wonder you’re starting a modelling gig,” James chides as he links their hands together. It’s such an endearing sight that he can’t help but lift Sirius’ hands to his mouth and shower his fingers and knuckles with kisses. Sirius’ steps stutter and James looks up, delighted. 

“I was put on the spot,” Sirius says defensively. “I didn’t expect her to start asking questions. I just wanted her to give it to you, not interrogate me.”

“You could’ve just given it to me yourself, like a normal person.”

“We’re anything but normal. Anyway, I was too nervous about your reaction.”

“Touché. Still, it would’ve been loads better coming from you.”

“Then allow me to make it up to you.” Sirius tugs on James’ hand until he stops. He reaches up to frame James’ face as he gently presses their lips together. James isn’t sure how much time passes before they pull apart. As they lean their foreheads on each other, Sirius’ lips quirk. 

“Happy birthday, Jamie. I love you.”

James smiles and tucks in a strand of hair coming loose from Sirius’ bun. “I love you too.”

[toyfulbox]

Though they do not have much time to spare for a direct visit, they do at least have enough freedom in their day to leave Avery a thoughtful gift; and with a swift knock to the other boy's door, Libra places a decorative box and card onto the ground before turning away to leave — his face flushing slightly, all the same. Within the present rests a handmade mirror glazed cake, patterned with the colors of the very galaxy itself. Besides it is a small glittering card, signed with nothing but a little cat's paw print in gold…hopefully, Avery would be able to appreciate the gesture.

"With love, 🐾"

(@starlitmuses)

Oh..? What’s this? As quick as they were, and as slow as he was, Avery was unable to catch the person who knocked on his door. Ah, well, maybe next time..

He looked down, a small, cute box laid on the floor. Wrapped in upmost care and love, it seemed. Picking it up, he smiled at the card, knowing where this anonymous gift came from. A small chuckle emitted from Avery as he set his present down on the table, finally unwrapping it to reveal a wonderfully made cake… Beautiful as it was, he didn’t want to destroy it!

“Thank you…” He muttered, “it’d be perfect to share with you, were you to be here..” Avery spoke, cutting a small slice for himself.

[toyfulbox]

"comforting" (from libra to avery or wishmaker!) - @starlitmuses

Avery had thought that the gentle sniffles and silent sobs that emitted from himself would go unnoticed, however, that was clearly the opposite. Through closed eyes, he could feel the gentle touch of soft hands cradling his head, fingers glide upon his cheeks to wipe away the tears that fell down upon his face. He inhales, breath choppy as he opened his eyes to be greeted by a familiar sight, looking straight at the other with glossy, green eyes.

"Libra..."

Again, Avery sniffles, another choppy intake of breath as he sighed in relief to see a comforting, familiar face. Though, he had desperately wished he could be seeing him under different circumstances at this moment.

Because Avery wasn't himself, he wasn't the God that he would normally show up as. He wasn't who he was supposed to be.

He was not Wishmaker. He was not supposed to be here.

"...Sorry." He spoke solemnly, stepping back from Libra, almost embarrassed that he had been caught in such an embarrassing emotional state. Though, not like he hadn't ever cried in front of Libra before. "Sorry," he apologizes again, he wipes his tears from his face with the fabric of his sleeves, "I didn't mean for you to catch me in such a state." He spoke quietly.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Everyone welcome our newest member @starlitmusings! She wrote the latest fic we posted, check it out. She's new to prongsfoot, so be sure to make her feel welcome!

[toyfulbox]

sorry for the absence & silence!! ive been doing things.

anyway.

@starlitmuses

[toyfulbox]

A Tradition Renewed

silly authors note: i got bored at work. mind full, thoughts running around. this takes place some time after avery is crowned prince of the kingdom he saved. everyone is coping. we discuss a little yearly celebration. featuring @starlitmuses Libra!!

fun fact! this is exactly 1000 words. i’m huge.

“Are you sure this is something that you want to establish? It will change the course of the kingdom as we know it. Will you be able to act accordingly if and when the citizens disagree with the choice that you make?”

An elongated sign escaped from the newly-appointed prince, since when was it Libra’s duty to make himself doubt his abilities? That being said, he would be replacing the cultural significance of the Starlit Kingdom’s annual celebration of their establishment. As done so by the Royal Zodiac Family eons ago. However, things have changed now, since the very moment that Ophiuchus overthrew the family monarchy. Could things still really be considered a cultural movement even with that event in mind? 

Which is why the thought of a new celebration came into Avery’s mind, one to celebrate the kingdom’s freedom from the clutches of Ophiuchus. The old celebration was still an impactful one, yes, but then again… it was to celebrate the old Zodiac Royals. Without them, what would make of said celebration? If anything, it would more than likely remind them of the past. All the reason to make a new celebration, of course. There wasn’t a need to keep on going with a tradition that could potentially remind them of the past that was no longer a sweet memory. The monarchy was destroyed, the only one living was the one who was supposed to be crowned next prince of the kingdom.

Yet, Avery took away that title. He was crowned prince of the kingdom for saving the citizens, they had appointed him as their prince. To be fair, the citizens didn’t know that Libra was still living. In their minds, they had considered them to be deceased along with the other members of the Royal Family, Ophiuchus to be the only one alive out of all of them. Still, Avery couldn’t help but feel guilty for taking away such a title to be given to him. One that had no relation whatsoever to the Zodiac Royals.

“The silence is deafening, Avery.” Libra spoke flatly. They had been standing, waiting for a decision from the new prince. They knew that there was no wrong answer, but whatever decision Avery were to make would have had an impact upon their society, his society, the kingdom’s society as he knew it. A sigh of annoyance escaped from Libra as he still waited, now impatiently, for Avery’s decision.

“Please, don’t put pressure upon me, Libra.” Avery responds to Libra’s sigh, he didn’t look towards their way, but he could feel the glare that Libra was giving to him. “I’m just,” he pauses, thoughts running throughout his mind, “I’m thinking of all the possibilities. Anything that could go wrong, anything that could be done right. I don’t want a singular decision to blow up in my face.” Avery responds, especially to a person like Libra. He knew that he took away their position of power, and he had been bitter about it ever since. It technically wasn’t his fault, but Libra also couldn’t blame the citizens of the kingdom. It would not be very prince-like of him to do, to blame the citizens for a decision they had to make on a whim. 

“We will make a new celebration.”

“What?”

“A new celebration.” Avery states again. A harsh, choppy sigh escapes his breath as he makes his final decision. “I want the purpose of it to be so that they may celebrate their freedom from Ophiuchus. A kingdom that is no longer under the plunges of darkness. While the old celebration may be filled with memories of your family and how the kingdom came to be. I do not want the citizens to ruminate on how everything used to be in the past. It is a new era now, the two of us represent the kingdom now. Even if they, the citizens, don’t recognize you as official royalty… That shall be changed. I’ll make sure of it.”

While Libra hated the aspect of change, Avery proved some points, with the rest of his family gone, what was there truly to celebrate aside from the establishment of the kingdom? The whole point of the past celebration was to celebrate the family AND the foundation of the kingdom. But, without the family… a very important part of the celebration was now missing. He would hate to have to change such an impactful holiday, though, change was essential. In this case, it would have to be declared as such. They didn’t want the citizens to be reminded of a family that essentially no longer existed. “Fine.” They respond to Avery’s decision, though there was a bit of hesitancy with their tone of voice. However, if Avery knew what he was doing, then he wouldn’t argue with him.

Avery was relieved, he almost wanted to collapse to the floor, but that wouldn’t have been very professional of him… “Thank you.” He said with utmost gratitude. Even though Libra wasn’t officially appointed as a royal, he still had to pay his respects to him. After all, Libra was essentially guiding him in the path of a royal. “It is now decidedly so… I’ve yet to come up for a name for it, but we shall have our first annual ball of the Starlit Kingdom. In commemoration of freedom from the dark clutches of Ophiuchus. To honor the bravery of the citizens and a new era for the kingdom.” Avery took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. “That day is coming up in about a month, so it shall be announced soon. A week or so, perhaps?” Avery suggests, looking over to Libra for an affirmation.

He stares at him with a serious gaze, nodding serenely, “You will absolutely need help with a speech, this will only be your second time announcing something to the whole kingdom.”

“And you’ll be by my side to help deliver it.”

“I wouldn’t have it changed for any other reason, Avery.”

[ginadope]

I curse happiness - Had you never smiled Never been Yet here you are Such a vision of Joy Climbing up and down My ribs and beliefs Let there be light Chaos and everything unknown The Moon full for weeks Such a forfeit (with a wink) I've been at sea This Baltic sea I enjoy, I think I'll gladly, guilty sail it again

[ginadope]

The sky looks like a painting

I dream of thunderstorms

The primal art of change

Waiting, growing

In the corner of my eye

-

There is something else in the wine

It lets certainties wither and fingers move

Gladly, with a rich taste

Losing its scare