Fic; Why We Fight
Originally posted at mwpp_mischief for their rare pairs challenge. Enjoy!
Title: Why We Fight
Author: mozarts_piano
Pairing: James/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7, 900
Prompt: 48
Warnings: Angst, underage sex (14),
Summary: They met on September 1st 1971. And every year after that they remember how much they cared.
Author's Notes: I wrote some of this in July. Some in August. And then about two weeks ago I deleted everything I had and started over. This is the product of that. I hope you like it.
I'd like to thank the Queer as Folk marathon for giving me major inspiration.
1981
The light from the blaring TV bounced across the small flat. A young man, pale but dark,
handsome but incredibly morbid, sat on a rather run-down old chesterfield. He seemed
to be drinking something, something heavy and amber coloured, something that would
leave a burn down your throat and into your lungs.
He was waiting.
The gentle, muted sound of the infomercial came around his canine like ears, lowered so
as not to mix up any noises he could hear from outside the flat.
The door, freshly painted, seemed to mock him, poke fun at his current stage of misery.
It had seen a lot over the past three years, but it could not boast over the red and gold
striped tie that hung down from the man’s neck. The tie had been there from the
beginning and was a constant reminder to the man at how far, how deep, how torn-apart
his friendship had gotten.
He downed his glass and stared at the door again.
He’d come. He would. He had to.
1972
His father always insisted on driving over to King’s Cross, so James’s trunk was pushed
into the back of the 1951 powder blue Studebaker. It was hot outside, sticky and humid
with the promise of a late autumn.
James’s face was split in half by his infectious grin as he sat in between his parents,
bouncing up and down on the seat. He seemed even more jittery than usual to his mother,
who immediately was suspicious.
“James Potter, calm down. And just where are your glasses?”
“Mum,” he whined, hints of a Welsh accent coming through his speech. “I just put them
away. He said I don’t need to wear them all the time.”
“The Healer also said that wearing them more often will help your eye sight, do you
remember that?” she asked with a motherly eyebrow raise, but it was softened when she
reached her arm out and petted her son’s hair down, smiling at its unruly strands.
James’s father chortled loudly over the sax solo coming from their stereo, “What are you
so riled up about son? You can’t be that excited about school?” he looked down at him
with a smile.
“I am!” James grinned wider as he watched the traffic of London past his parents where
they sat by the windows. “I get to learn more spells, and I get to try out for Quidditch and
I get to see Sirius and-”
Ah, his mother thought, nodding along as her son continued. James had gotten
painfully attached to this Black boy, owling him all summer and pouting miserably for
days when Sirius’s mother said he could not come over the summer.
There seemed to be something inhuman about their relationship, and although her
husband was perfectly fine with it, Mrs. Potter was not convinced. The boy appeared nice
enough when they met briefly at the train station last year, but she just could not trust a
Black. She’d had an unfortunate run-in with Mrs. Black many years before over some use
of the word Mudblood at a dinner party and hadn’t thought much of the family since.
“You alright dear?” Mr. Potter asked, giving her a look from over top of James’s head.
The driver was parking the car now, on the left side of Euston Street, right at the station.
“Of course I am,” she huffed, following her husband and son out of the car and thanking
the driver with a smile and some Muggle pounds.
They stood on the street, watching the people go by, some clutching bagels and lunch
boxes, while others held cameras and brochures. Mrs. Potter smiled at them gratefully,
in all her life she’d never seen anything as horribly fascinating as London, and gently
steered her bubbling twelve year old into King’s Cross station.
They had barely gotten through the wall and onto the other side when a small boy with
dark hair slammed into James, hugging him again and again. She watched her son hug
the boy back, talking loudly and laughing and grinning like no tomorrow.
She smiled down at James, at Sirius, at their great big, important friendship and vowed to
be more open to this Black boy.
1975
Sirius is sitting against the stone wall, close enough to the kitchens that if he needs a hot
chocolate he can get up and get one, but far enough away that he can’t see the little pear.
The map isn’t done yet, so he’s pretty sure James’s won’t find him here.
Sirius feels strange, a little mixed about everything.
James is his life. His life. He always has been and he always will be. And tonight,
on what would be the start of their fifth year as best friends, he can’t help but want to cry
a little because he’s loved every single day of the past five years and he’s terrified of the
future.
There’s rumblings beneath his feet; the talk of war has passed rumours and moved onto
the scariest question of all: when? He can hardly stand the waiting, the unknown,
the fright that something might happen to Remus or Peter or the Potters or Regulus
or, Merlin, James, and now that he’s older and more confident he’s absolutely freaked
because in two years he and James have to go fight.
And he’s not sure he can do that.
Sirius looks down at his hands, fine like pianist fingers, thin and graceful with a curved,
slightly shimmering manicure. His mother bullied him into it the night before, and he’s
been trying to wear the magic down ever since.
Escaping James was hard tonight. All the Marauders wanted to have a big blown out
party after their over the top confetti prank at dinner. But Sirius couldn’t do it. His
parents told him over three years ago that sixteen was the magic number, the right time to
decide a career path. And they've been spending more and more time with Narcissa’s new
family, picking out Sirius’s new façade.
They want him to follow Voldemort.
And he’s not sure he can say no.
Sirius always thought himself strong and smart, free willed, brave, ready to stand up to
anyone. But now James is slipping through his fingers like sand, and Merlin knows fourth
year is over because they were happy together then and over the summer, but fucking
Potter spent the entire night trying to get Lily Evans’s attention and he doesn’t know if he
can only be James’s friend.
He’s wants so much more.
Footsteps echo down the corridor and Sirius’s head snaps up, unsurprised when he sees
round, curious hazel eyes looking him up and down.
“What the fuck you doing here?” James asks, kicking Sirius lightly in the knee with his
runner covered foot. “There’s a party up in Gryffindor.”
Sirius shrugs and James seems to take that as an invitation to sit down, knocking
shoulders with Sirius as he grins at him.
“You haven’t been right since the feast. What is it?”
Sirius looks down, dodging his head from the sharp brilliance of James’s smile and
trying to hate him. If he can hate James, or can make James hate him, this separation will
be so much easier. It’ll be easier to prepare a battle against him in the years coming.
“What, do we not tell each other things anymore?” James’s grin fades, and his eyes
narrow a little. “Everything last year, was that nothing or something?”
Sirius shakes his head, and God, this is going to be even harder than he thought. He
coughs out a reply, “’Course not. Just… Got something on my mind, is all.”
James places a hand on his chin, nudging him up to make their eyes meet. His lips don’t
move but he seems to smile down at Sirius anyway, making him turn warm.
“Tell me.” James has that same look he has when he found out Remus was a werewolf,
the same look that Snape got the day they first met him, the same look Peter was blessed
with when he first said something outrageously hilarious.
James was one hundred percent serious.
“I’m scared,” Sirius blurts out, looking down at the fingers James has clasped around his
own, tightening and squeezing and always bringing him back down to earth, always there
for him. “I’m scared of this war, and of my parents, and myself, and of losing you and…
I just don’t know how I could possibly fix this.” Sirius feels something sting in his eyes,
and he begins to blink rapidly, not daring to look at James.
“I have no idea where I belong in this. Am I the good guy or the bad one? God.”
He breaks down, taking his hand back from James’s grip so he can snuffle and snort into
his sleeve, hiccupping away his tears. He hears nothing from James beside him, only light
breathing, until the noise of shifting hits his ears and then there are warm, strong, wiry
arms around him and James’s nose is breathing in his hair, hands pressing on his back.
“Sirius.” It’s spoken as soft as a prayer, and Sirius stops hiccupping so he can hear what
his best friend has to say. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. Okay?”
James tightens his arms, burying Sirius deeper into his chest, but he doesn’t have it in
him to complain even a little.
“And I swear to you, swear on magic and mischief and fucking Albus Dumbledore
himself that I will never, ever leave you, alright? If you go down, I go down.
Fuck, you know I couldn’t live without you Sirius. You’re my best friend.”
And now Sirius is crying for an entirely different reason altogether and he’s remembering
why he went the way he did, why he became a Gryffindor when he so obviously should
have been a Slytherin. It’s James.
It’s always been James.
He slithers up in his arms, moving until his lips are level with James’s and he can place a
soft, sweet kiss to the side of his mouth. James presses his lips back immediately, a smile
growing on his lips, a hand creeping up to the side of Sirius’s face.
“I love you.”
James grins, placing a kiss on his nose,
“Love you too.”
1978
When James entered the kitchen Sirius was standing in the only apron in the house, frilly
and white, and was pleading desperately with their gas stove, begging the thing not to
explode.
“Now,” he whispered intensely, not yet knowing that James had stepped into the
room. “You’re going to light for me. Properly this time. No more of this eyebrow searing
business. I know you only love James, but if you could just pretend-”
The oven, a gift from James’s late godmother, seemed to hiss at him, warning his hand
not to go anywhere near it with a match.
“Oh shut up you! You will light, I swear.” Sirius brandished his wand menacingly at it, as
if he’d blow the whole thing to pieces.
James, who could no longer keep in the laughter that had been threatening to escape since
he eased the door open, approached his best friend with a smile. He wrapped his long
arms around the slim torso, which froze at first contact, and began chuckling.
“What,” he began, his words spoken quietly in Sirius’s ear, “the devil are you doing?”
“Er,” Sirius eloquently began, “When did you come in? I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m quiet,” James nibbled along Sirius’s throat, one hand going into his long strands of
hair. “But you didn’t answer the question.”
“Well, um,” Sirius still looked ridiculous, holding his wand at a comical angle, as if
waiting for the oven to get mad again. It seemed to purr back, content with the arrival of
James, “figured we didn’t have much to look forward to, dinner wise. Usually we have
really good food tonight, but we... well, that’s not happening today, is it?”
James shifted his head forward with a smile, hoping to catch the look on Sirius’s
face, “You tried to cook? For little old me?”
“Shut up,” Sirius laughed, cheeks only reddening slightly. He turned in James’s arms,
dropping his wand on the kitchen counter and placing his hand’s on James’s shoulders. “I
know you’re always tired after a shift at Mungo’s and I figured… well, I'm no house elf,
but I’m trying.”
James hummed, a quiet smile on his face, eyes quite unable to leave Sirius’s. He moved
forward so their foreheads touched, “Have you forgotten two summers ago, darling? I
thought you’d never cook after that attempt at brownies-”
“Hey!” Sirius laughed, punching James in the arm, “those were delicious, I seem to
remember you having more than one-”
“That’s cause you put Gillyweed in them,” James chuckled, drawing Sirius into a hug by
the neck, “Didn’t matter how burnt they were- Oi!”
“Enough out of you!” Sirius tightened his arms, closing his eyes as the scent of James
filled his mind. “I got home early so I could make this, and this is what I get?”
“Padfoot,” James pulled back only far enough so he could look Sirius in the eye, “I’d be
more than happy to just shag all night, to be honest. Maybe get some Chinese food later.”
Sirius’s eyes lit up at that, but then he shook his head in earnest, “No, no! We always
have good food on our anniversary for Christ’s sake, it’s a tradition.”
“Darling, the only important part of this day is you.” James scratched the back of his neck
with his hand, grin blossoming, “And me of course, cause I’m fucking fabulous but-”
The rest of his speech is drowned out by Sirius’s mouth as he leads them backwards, to
their bedroom.
1977
“Do you have all your clothes? Cloaks? Your cauldron?”
“Yes,” sighed Sirius, draping himself over James from where he sat in the only chair in
the room, “Christ, would you stop worrying. I’m packed, alright?”
“Sorry.” James read through the list again, looking around Sirius’s flat for anything else
that wasn’t in his trunk. “My mum made me promise I’d help you.”
“How is she anyways? Doing better?” he asked, voice careful as he walked around James
to stand next to his trunk, eyes downcast.
James coughed and squirmed in his chair for a second before beginning, “She’s doing a
bit better. The Healers say she might be able to come home in a couple weeks, maybe get
out to the house in Wales.”
Sirius laughed, “God, I love that house. Remember that time when we-”
“-threw crabapples at my neighbour’s cat?” James nodded, a small smile adorning his
face. “Yah, it was a riot.”
Sirius smiled at him but James’s eyes were already back on the paper, scanning again. He
felt a small detachment to James, something he had never felt before. They were usually
as thick as thieves, plunging into their lives straight on, holding hands as they broke the
surface. He couldn’t understand what was happening now.
“You alright? You’ve been a bit quieter than usual?”
James took a deep breath and seemed to frown at the paper, as if he didn’t hear what
Sirius said. Then he stood abruptly, flying over to Sirius and standing in front of him,
hazel eyes seeking his grey ones like they were the answer to everything.
“Do you remember in fifth year?” he asked, studying closely, “when you told me how
scared you were?” Sirius nodded, raising a hand to gently stroke James’s face, trying to
calm him. “Well I’m scared. Really fucking scared. Not just about my mum either.”
Sirius had only seen James cry twice; the day he fell off his broom in third year, breaking
both arms, and the day Sirius tricked Snivellus into visiting Moony. Sirius never wanted
to return to either of the memories, because he thought James had almost died the first
time and the second time he wished he could die, after two weeks of silence from his best
friend.
“This is our last year and I don’t know if-” James took a deep, shuddering breath and it
seemed to settle him for a second before the tears started pooling in the depths of his eyes
and Sirius couldn’t move, not a millimeter, not even to wipe them off the tip of James’s
nose.
“If something happens to you, or Moony, or Pete, or fucking Evans, god I don’t know
what I’d do.” James heaved a breath, moving closer to Sirius so he could lean against
him, drawing strength from him. “I want to fight so badly but I also just want to run away
right now, just Apparate somewhere with you and we can go live in fucking Morocco or
something, fucking Canada, I don’t care.”
“James…”
“No. No, I know. I can’t. I would hate myself. But sometimes…”
“I know.” Sirius clung to him, letting the tears turn his shirt damp. His heart broke as
he watched James, his loveable little James, break himself in two. “You’re braver than
anyone I know Prongs. We’re going to fight, you and me. We’ll do it. I promise.”
James nodded against his shoulder, sniffling twice and then released him, taking a step
back. He gave Sirius a watery smile and Sirius sent one back, concerned eyes resting on
his worn, sun kissed skin.
“We’d better go,” his voice was choked, but still strong as he walked towards the hulking
trunk in the middle of the room. “Twelve minutes to the train.”
Sirius nodded and grabbed his wand from his pocket, preparing to Apparate. He gave his
best friend one last smile before turning on the spot.
1974
The dormitory was finally silent after twelve funny stories, four pillow fights and
a massive pile of sweets. The distant sounds of Peter’s snores and Remus’s quiet
mumblings caught James’s ear as he lay in his four poster.
The only thing he couldn’t hear at all was Sirius.
His head subconsciously turned to the right, where a skip, hop and a jump over was
Sirius’s bed, warm and snug. James painfully wishes he could head over there, stay up
late and talk about the summer holiday and pranks and heroics with him, but lately James
has been feeling weird every time he sees Sirius, like his chest is too tight and his
toes can’t uncurl and there’s this upsetting bit in his stomach.
James wiggled uncomfortably and remembered the talk his mum had with him over the
summer. She kept talking about body changes and puberty and the
birds and the bees which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to James but now he’s kind
of understanding what she meant because his penis is starting to hurt a little, just like she
said, and although he had heard what the older boys said, that it means you’re about to
have sex, he couldn’t quite put the marker on that, because he wasn’t about to.
Was he?
James sat up in his bed, watching as the blankets bunched up over his waist. He debated
with himself heavily, stay, go?
Ten seconds later finds him across the cold floor, through the curtains and into the warm
covers, laying snuggly next to his best friend.
“Oi!” Sirius whispered, eyes wide with excitement in the darkness. “What’re you playing
at?”
James smiled, shuffling around in the covers so he faced Sirius on his side, reaching
out with a hand in the small space to twist Sirius’s pajama shirt into bunches. “Couldn’t
sleep.”
Sirius grinned back at him, moving so he faced James on his side as well. They stared at
each other for a moment, a minute, an hour. Then James hesitantly stopped playing with
the material at Sirius’s stomach.
His fingers casually skimmed down, right to where his shirt ended and his pants began.
He heard Sirius’s breath catch, stunned in the moment, and kept going, placing his hand
directly over the lump in Sirius’s pants, feeling his penis expand.
“James…” James had never heard his name like that, deep and soft, but really, really
fierce, like nothing else mattered. And James liked that. He liked it a lot.
His eyes downcast to watch his hand beneath the sheets, James wiggled a little closer
to Sirius until their skinny, teenage frames fit each other perfectly. He moved his hand
around, touching Sirius lightly through the thin cotton of the pajamas. It was interesting
as he felt the thing turn hard beneath him, pressing against the material, pushing up at
James’s fingers. And then Sirius made the most amazing noise, like a raw moan, and
James couldn’t help a smile grace his features.
“Sirius,” James moved his fingers up, to the drawstring of the shorts, dipping the tips in
to feel coarse hairs. “What do you want to do?”
“What?” Sirius mumbled, both hands moving for the first time to grasp and gurgle
through James’s hair. He shuddered as Sirius’s digits scratched his scalp softly, but
continued.
“I mean, I don’t know what… you know what blokes do with birds, right?”
It was silent for a second, then, “Yes.”
“Me too. But what do they do with other blokes?”
James looked up for the first time, catching the wild, ridiculous look in his best friend’s
eye. Sirius seemed to swallow deeply, eyes never leaving James’s as he replied.
“They… I think they put their uh… their dick inside… inside someone’s arse.”
James almost laughed, but Sirius’s face was far too stern for him to be joking. He
swallowed down the laugh and looked at his fingers again, following the warm heat from
Sirius’s penis.
James was never one to turn down something.
He nodded his head once and rolled over, almost knocking Sirius out of bed as he
scrambled to get on his stomach. Sirius seemed taken aback, hands still tangled in the
thick hair.
“James? What’re you-”
“I want you to do that. What you were talking about. To me.” James began to take off his
pajama bottoms, squirming on the bed as he kicked them off his legs. He looked up to
see Sirius staring at his bum, his legs, his feet, like he was unable to look away, unable to
resist putting a hand out and running it down James’s side.
James couldn’t help but laugh at the tickling sensation that Sirius’s hand brought and his
penis, smothered into the blankets, agreed wholeheartedly, getting harder by the second.
“Sirius?”
The other boy looked up, eyes dark with something unfamiliar to James. For a second
James even found himself fearful of those eyes, terrified of what they might bring. But
then Sirius grinned, and James grinned back, and Sirius placed one knee on James’s right
and one on his left and-
“How do you do it?” James asked, turning his head to see Sirius lower himself down on
his thighs, pushing his shirt up to reveal his skinny, freckled back.
“I think you have to be wet. Otherwise it doesn’t work right,” Sirius’s voice was
incredulous, his eyes watching as his hands trailed down James’s spine. “I saw in this
magazine, the guy spit on his dick. That worked.”
James nodded into the pillow, growing warmer and warmer under Sirius’s ministrations.
He looked to the side again and shot the boy a look.
“Well? Will you do it already? I want to know what it feels like.”
“Okay, okay.” Sirius’s voice had a hint of classroom notes and detentions and sneaky
grins under the cloak to it, but a lot of that was smothered down with the evident tone of
desire he had. James watched as Sirius pulled his pajamas down past his penis, which
stood up straight from his body, red and long and frightening to James’s virgin eyes.
Sirius moved down a little, sitting on James’s knees as his fingers moved into the cleft of
James’s arse, pushing around at the tight ring of muscle that hid between them. James felt
the fingers leave him for a second and looked up at Sirius, only to see him sucking on his
digits. James’s mouth went dry, but he didn’t know why.
He turned his head back into the pillow pushing against it as the weirdest feeling
overtook him. There was a wet, skinny finger in his bum. It wiggled around and touched
the side of him and James thought it felt okay, a little awkward, but not too bad. Sirius
gasped, pushing his middle finger along side it, and then James felt the same awkward
pleasure, but this time it was matched with a hint of pain.
The third finger made him almost gasp out loud, and it was only his Gryffindor ways that
kept him from asking Sirius to please, please stop. He didn’t want to disappoint
Sirius, never ever, so he bit his lip and allowed the movements to continue, out and in,
out and in. Sirius pressed his chest against James’s back, mouth next to his ear.
“You feel,” he whispered in an almost broken, but still reverent, voice, “so amazing.”
And James couldn’t help but smile at that and push back on the fingers so Sirius knew to
continue, even if the spit was drying a little and making the fingers scratch him.
But then they were gone. James let out a sigh of relief. He was just about to tell Sirius
how he’d like to touch him again when he felt something hot and blunt near his bum,
pressed right against his hole. And he knew what it was, of course he did, but he hadn’t
thought about it, and how it was going to get inside him.
Sirius pushed slowly into James, past the ring that had barely been stretched. James’s
eyes watered as his best friend’s penis slid into him, burning him, making him pulse and
sear and gape with pain.
He heard gasps above him, moans and groans as Sirius pushed further into James’s body,
further into the heat. James tried to focus on that, tried to make himself stop feeling
unhappy for himself when Sirius was obviously having a great time.
He couldn’t find it in himself to do it though, so he just laid there uncomfortably as Sirius
moved in and out of him, rubbing his inside raw and leaving him sore.
It didn’t last long, barely five thrusts before James felt a strange warmth start inside his
arse, and Sirius made the longest groan yet, filling up the darkness of the night with his
pleasure.
He rolled off James and curled into his side, kissing James on the shoulder and saying
thank you, thank you, thank you, like a blessing, like a prayer.
James ignored the way his arse stung and smiled, delicately rolling onto his side so he
could launch an arm over Sirius, dragging him close and telling him how brilliant it was.
And then Sirius looked up at him with a grin in his eye, quirking a slim, dark eyebrow.
“Do you want to try?”
And James couldn’t help but lean over and kiss him, nodding enthusiastically.
1979
The fridge was empty again.
A carton of half drained orange juice sat next to a box of Chinese takeout that was
starting to smell. Three dried apricots rested beneath them with confused, wrinkly faces,
asking quietly, what are we doing here? The plum sauce was on the inside of
the door next to the nearly empty, flipped-upside-down-so-it’s-easier-to-pour bottle of
catsup. The baking soda was close to it.
Sirius Black went into this knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
“Merlin,” he sighed, moving the carton around on the cold, white rail that held
it. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve got shit-all. Shit. Shit shit shit.”
He’s mumbling now, still staring into the Muggle contraption with the hope that
somehow something, anything, would pop up, allowing him to cook it.
It had to be today, this fiasco. It couldn’t have been yesterday when they were just
lounging around Moony’s flat, playing backgammon - no. That would have been too
convenient. If that had been the case Sirius might have had some time to run down to the
grocery store while Remus kept James busy.
Sirius held the door open to the fridge and sighed once more. The floor basked in the
glow coming from the little whirling lights of the fridge and the cold puffs of air made
the hair on his arms stand up.
He still had time. Yeah. He could do it.
Sirius closed the refrigerator and walked out of the tiny kitchen, his bare feet splashing
onto the creaky, wooden floors. It felt colder than September. The hard wood had been
making squeaks and squeals for days as the sweltering days of August dwindled down,
and those damn green, healthy trees were already starting to go brown with the promise
of the ice and harsh winds of winter.
There was a twenty four hour mini-mart just down the road from his flat. If he could
manage to get there, pick up some groceries, run back, prepare dinner, all before James
got back from his shift at the hospital - then maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to pull off
an amazing night, fit for their ninth anniversary of being best friends.
He wanted, no needed this day to be perfect. This was his last chance, the last
fallen effort to convince James to leave Lily and come to him, for them to take off
together, see the world and just love, love so painfully hard that people will remember
them for decades, for centuries. He wanted to be known forever as the man who loved
James Potter more than anyone would ever love anyone else, ever.
Sirius grabbed his keys and his coat and was out the door in seconds.
1976
“I’ve got the Pumpkin Pasties, don’t worry!” Remus entered the carriage loaded with
goods and dumped his parcel on Sirius, who was lying with his feet closest to the door,
head in James’s lap. Peter sat across from James, locked in a staring contest with him.
Remus snorted at that, throwing the Licorice Wands at James head to make him yelp.
James blinked, eyes watering unnaturally. While Peter whooped and cheered, he dropped
a glance onto Remus who looked like he hadn’t slept all summer. James’s chest tightened
and he leaned forward, hand going into Sirius’s wavy hair and stroking it.
“You alright Moony?” he asked, concern dripping through his words. Remus looked up
at him and gave a faint smile, nodding slightly.
“Course I am. How could I not be?” he turned his smile to Peter and reached an arm out
to ruffle his hair. James cleared his throat and nodded.
“So what the fuck are we going to do at the feast tonight, eh?” Sirius asked, grin wide. He
pushed back against James’s legs, shuffling his own lap around so the Pumpkin Pasties
slid towards his mouth, “Someone had to have come up with a prank over the summer.”
“Are you joking Padfoot?” Peter asked around a mouthful of licorice. “All I’ve done all
summer is think about what I want to do with my life. McGonagall needs me to tell her at
the feast tonight and I’ve got fuck all.”
“You’d probably be good at dealing with Muggles. You have enough patience.” Remus
suggested, taking a bite out of a fluffy, marshmallow snitch.
“Or one of those goblins down in Gringotts. You look the part.” Sirius grinned, sending a
wink Peter’s way.
“Fuck off!”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know what you mean, Pete,” James sighed, fingers slowly dragging through Sirius’s
hair, “I can’t make up my mind. A huge part of me wants to be an Auror, but I can’t stop
thinking about Healing. Sort of a different kind of hero, right?”
“Really?” Sirius sat up, looking curiously at James, “I thought you wanted to be in the
middle of the action, fighting off Death Eaters left, right and centre.”
James shrugged and looked out at the English countryside. The compartment went silent,
both Peter and Remus looking to Sirius with confused glances.
James stared out at the land whistling by and thought of his mum, who had been having
dizzy spells that summer. He had never even considered a job in Healing, but after
spending a week at the hospital with her it seemed like those people, the special, brilliant
Healers, were the real soldiers. Something he wanted to be.
When the Aurors fought and destroyed and held on by their teeth through battles, the
Healers waited, breath held for news. And when the Aurors came pounding through the
hospital with the injured, the Healers fixed them up, or maybe they didn’t, but they tried
their hardest. They saved people. They were the brave ones.
He wanted to be able to patch people back up, to give them the hope to continue. He still
wanted to fight, god yes, with every bone in his body, but he wanted, no needed, to be
able to put his friends and family back together if worst came to worst.
He stared out the window for an immeasurable amount of time before Sirius tapped him
on the shoulder twice, proclaiming a brilliant smile and just a hint of mischief in his eye.
“We’re going to play Exploding Snap. Want to play, James?” he asked.
James sat still for a second before grinning back, nodding and leaning forward to collect
his hand from Moony.
1973
“I thought that bloody sorting would never end!” came the muggy sounds of Peter
Pettigrew as he immediately began to fill his plate up with the never-ending food; roasts
and potatoes and tarts and corn.
Sirius smiled over the chicken at James, who grinned right on back, hazel eyes sparking
up behind his round glasses. It took Sirius a second to regain his breath, noticing the way
James seemed to have grown taller and skinnier and cuter, God anything but cuter, over
the summer. He was all bone and grins and quick winks, perfect, just Sirius’s
type.
Remus elbowed him in the side, “Earth to Sirius. Come in Sirius.”
He shook himself awake, diving into his plate and turning to Remus with a mouthful of
potatoes, chomping loudly. Remus crinkled his nose while James laughed over his soup,
slurping noisily.
They ate their dinner quickly with fierce smiles and long tales of heat and waves and
Remus’s dog and Peter’s mum and James’s gorgeous house in Northern Wales. By the
time it was Sirius’s turn, dessert had been served.
“So then my cousin, bloody girl,” Sirius was saying, leaning into his treacle tart while
brandishing his fork around, bits of tart hitting Remus as he tried to make his point. “She
throws the doll out the door, not knowing that Kreacher’s standing there-”
Peter snorted into his éclair and James thumped him on the back, grin wide, ready for the
climax of Sirius’s story.
“-And my aunt walks in and yells, ‘Bellatrix Black I have never seen such a wild,
atrocious…blah blah blah’” Sirius laughed, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. “And you have
to know my aunt’s never yelled that much since the day I made her tea turn into confetti
at a Christmas party when I was 8.”
James laughed at that, loud and wholeheartedly, and Sirius grinned at him, then at Peter,
and finally at Remus, glad to be back from all the hate that was summer vacation. The
story he told didn’t amuse him too much, but he was glad the other’s enjoyed it.
The end of the feast came quick enough, food disappearing and Prof. Dumbledore
exclaiming his usual farewell of Pip Pip! The four walked down the corridors,
following the rest of Gryffindor house until they passed the painting of Wendelin
the Weird and Remus took a sudden right, passing through the wall and into a secret,
winding passageway. The rest followed him.
Sirius walked with James, staring down at his feet as Remus and Peter took the lead,
arguing over the Silver Snitch’s new album. He glanced over at James as they passed the
secret stairwell that took one directly to the Hufflepuff common room.
He took a deep breath.
“James?” and James stopped, turning to look at Sirius as Remus and Peter turned the
corner, lost as always, in their conversation.
“Yeah, Sirius?” he asked, eyes lighting up ever so slightly as they smiled at him.
“I just… I wanted to…”
Sirius closed his eyes for a second. He pictured James, his James, his best friend
for two whole years, the boy he thought was cuter than any of those girls at the feast that
night.
He leaned forward, seizing that beautiful, ripe Gryffindor bravery that lay inside him. His
lips pressed against James’s quiet, warm, red ones, pushing lightly on his mouth. Sirius
raised a hand to James’s face, cupping the sweet, soft cheek of his friend and then pulled
away.
He was only an inch away before James’s speckled hand flashed out and grabbed his hair
and pulled Sirius’s lips back on his own. They stayed like that for another minute, quietly
pressing kisses to each other’s mouth, quietly smiling through occupied lips, quietly
breathing in each other’s breaths.
James pulled away and grinned.
“What was that for?” his eyes full of mischief and friendship and a special kind of
wonder.
“You’ve freckles on you lips.” Sirius grinned back and leaned in, intent on kissing every
one of them freckles.
1980
The house was quiet for the first time in months. James was standing at his stove, smiling
down into a pot of boiling water. He tossed a handful of pasta in, and then another.
James wasn’t stupid. He knew what day it was.
He stirred in the long, thin spaghetti noodles, pushing them down so he can fit the pot
lid back on top. He sneaked a piece out and snaps it between his teeth, chewing on it
carefully as he waited for the sound of the doorbell.
Another minute. Then it rang.
He didn't bother to go answer it; Sirius had a key, and besides - it was open.
Sure enough it wasn’t a minute later when he heard a chuckle behind him.
James turned to see a shirtless Sirius, t-shirt flung haphazardly over the nearest chair as
he walked towards James. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, something sexy and
dark and uncharted. James shuddered and turned back to the stove.
Sirius walked behind him, arms winding around James’s body like a snake, pulling him
close, too close.
“Sirius…” It was a warning, but he hadn't caught it.
“What?” Sirius’s voice was light, innocent. “I’m not allowed to hug my best friend?”
James coughed and stared down at the pasta, not allowing himself to feel anything
towards Sirius. He knew what he had to do.
Sirius’s mouth was at his ear, “Happy 10th anniversary, darling,” he whispered, lips
stroking James’s ear as he spoke.
“Hell of a ride, wasn’t it?” asked James, turning his head to see Sirius’s eyes straight on.
Sirius laughed, smoothing his hand down James’s back, eyes dancing merrily in the light
over the stove.
"What’s for dinner?" Sirius's voice suggested his interest, but the hand swaying down
James's arse then back up again implied something different.
"Spaghetti. Your favourite." James couldn't help but smile when Sirius let out a happy
little shout and kissed him on the cheek. "And what's up with you tonight? Someone took
a little too many happy pills."
"I am happy."
"I got that." James smirked, taking the pot off the top and stirring the noodles again.
"Want to know why?" Sirius looked positively gleeful now. James hadn't seen him, hell
he hadn't seen anyone, this excited since before the war, before the nightly terrors
and the daily lies.
Sirius could never, ever keep a secret for too long so James saved him from it, leaning in
a little and whispering, "Why?"
Sirius's smile turned less sly and more soft as he whispered back, "Because you chose
me."
Silence, and the world stopped. Silence, and James's heart broke.
"Sirius. Sirius. Sirius, wait." He tried to grab onto something, anything that would make
him come off as something more than a jerk, more than a man who was about to ruin a
ten year friendship.
"What? What? What?" Sirius mocked, grin still stretched across his face. He slid another
kiss over James before walking to the fridge and opening it, peering inside for something
to drink, "You got any firewhisky?"
"Sirius, please stop looking through the fridge."
"Who the fuck eats yogurt?" Sirius held a cup of the product in his hand, gesturing with it
like a madman. "Please don't tell me it's you."
James walked briskly up to him and took the yogurt out of Sirius's hand, threw it back in
the fridge and slammed the door shut, "It's Lily's, now will you please listen to me?"
Sirius was quiet for a second, and then he looked up, his eyes have lost their spark and he
just seemed concerned, "What is it Prongs?"
James felt his throat close up, but continued, "Sirius, I asked you here tonight because
we're mates. Not because I… I'm not sleeping with you."
Silence rang through the flat for a second, broken only by the hum of the appliance,
before Sirius let loose.
"You're kidding me, right?" he laughed, bark-like noises coming from the back of his
throat, "We always fuck on September the 1st. Since fourth year for Christ's sake."
He dived in, mouth landing on James's and began pulling and prodding and licking and
sucking his way into James's lips and tongue, and it wastoo much, too much for James
and he couldn't even-
"Sirius!" he pushed him away, wiping a hand across his mouth, "I'm not joking, okay?"
"James." Sirius's playful mood dropped and suddenly daggers were duller than his
eyes, "Don't fuck with me."
"I'm not. Sirius we can't… we can't do this again."
James was worn out, like he'd just run fifty miles in a race he hadn't known he was
running in. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning and his lungs were
heaving, desperate to get more Sirius filled air before it was torn away from him by his
own actions.
Sirius looked like he's trying to say something, but it wasn't coming out. Then finally, a
choked, bitter sound, "Why?"
James nods, looking down at his feet, "For Harry. I can't do that to him, or Lily. It isn't
fair."
"Isn't fair?!" Sirius seemed to explode, his eyes wild, his voice rasped and loud, "You
want to talk about fucking fair? It isn't fair that she stole you away from me in seventh
year, it isn't fair that she got pregnant, it isn't fucking fair that you chose some girl over
ten years of friendship-"
"I didn’t choose anything!" James yelled back, wanting to sink Sirius further into his
labyrinth of hate for reasons he can't imagine, "You knew, even when we were fourteen
that it could never be more than this. We could never actually be together."
"You swore on the fucking Marauders that you would never do this to me. Never leave
me for that fucking ginger." There was murder in Sirius's eyes, and the sting of tears,
desperately wanting to spill over onto his ragged face.
"Well we can't change that now, can we?" James roared back, turning around to put a
hand on the table, steadying himself, promising his heart that this is, this had to be
the right thing.
It lasted a minute, two minutes, three minutes, this disgusting silence, growing and eating
away at the fury waving off the two men. Finally, Sirius spoke:
"Tell me why again."
He turned back to him, “Why what?”
Sirius sighed loudly, his eyes narrowed, glaring at his best friend like nothing else, “Why
you married that bitch.”
“Lily’s not a bitch.”
“Why James? Why?” His words were like poison and they seemed to creep into James
like that, drag him down and make him want to cry. He fought the feeling off and snarled
back.
“Because I love her.”
“Oh yeah. Is that it?”
“Don’t be a arse Padfoot-”
“Do you love her more than me then?” he asked, his grey eyes cold, his mouth set, but
James could see right through him, had always been able to see right through Sirius Black
and his fucking façade.
“Why would you-”
“Do you?”
James coughed and looked at the floor, unable to keep looking at Sirius, “Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sirius!”
“No James!” The bulb in the lamp to James’s right exploded, glass fragments barely
skimming past the fighting friends, “Who was your first kiss, eh? Who was the first
person you ever had sex with? Who was there when your mom died, who helped you
get a O in Potions so you could get into the Academy, who fought with you two fucking
nights ago when that asshole tried to kill you-”
“Sirius.”
It wasn’t yelled or screamed or shrieked. It wasn’t said in madness or anger or jealousy. It
was just said, as plain as day.
And nothing hurt more.
Sirius nodded, tears flowing freely off his face. He turned, walking swiftly from the flat.
There wasn't anything left to say.
The slam from the door seemed to echo through James's whole body before he broke
down on the ground.
1971
Sirius Black drug the trunk behind him, looking desperately over the platform for his
parents, but all he could see was thick steam coming from the scarlet train next to him.
He was scared and excited and terrified to be leaving, going away with people his parents
assured him would be crazy and horrible and disgusting.
As he walked by a group of older teenagers in blue ties he was hit by someone running
in the opposite direction. It knocked him off his feet, flat on the ground with the wind
rushing out of his lungs.
A strange, warm weight settled on him and Sirius opened his eyes to a pair of bright,
shining hazel orbs, inches from his face.
“Sorry!” a cheerful, friendly, slightly Welsh voice says, “Didn’t see where I was going!”
The weight lifted off him, pushing and scrambling and then a freckled hand appears,
jutted out from the body of a slight, messy boy with a brilliant smile. Sirius looked at the
hand for a minute before grabbing it with his own, letting this strange new boy pull him
to his feet.
“I really am sorry,” the boy hadn’t let go of his hand and was instead pumping it up and
down, grinning and wrinkling his little, freckled nose up and looking at Sirius with those
big, glowing eyes. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“S’alright.” Sirius said because he couldn’t imagine it not being, not with this boy, in this
place, at this time. Everything seemed perfect.
And just because he’d been trained since such a young age to always introduce himself,
he shook the boy’s hand again, still attached to his, and let a bemused smile on his
face, “I’m Sirius Black.”
If the boy was happy before he was nothing short of ecstatic now.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m James Potter.”
end
Title: Why We Fight
Author: mozarts_piano
Pairing: James/Sirius
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 7, 900
Prompt: 48
Warnings: Angst, underage sex (14),
Summary: They met on September 1st 1971. And every year after that they remember how much they cared.
Author's Notes: I wrote some of this in July. Some in August. And then about two weeks ago I deleted everything I had and started over. This is the product of that. I hope you like it.
I'd like to thank the Queer as Folk marathon for giving me major inspiration.
1981
The light from the blaring TV bounced across the small flat. A young man, pale but dark,
handsome but incredibly morbid, sat on a rather run-down old chesterfield. He seemed
to be drinking something, something heavy and amber coloured, something that would
leave a burn down your throat and into your lungs.
He was waiting.
The gentle, muted sound of the infomercial came around his canine like ears, lowered so
as not to mix up any noises he could hear from outside the flat.
The door, freshly painted, seemed to mock him, poke fun at his current stage of misery.
It had seen a lot over the past three years, but it could not boast over the red and gold
striped tie that hung down from the man’s neck. The tie had been there from the
beginning and was a constant reminder to the man at how far, how deep, how torn-apart
his friendship had gotten.
He downed his glass and stared at the door again.
He’d come. He would. He had to.
1972
His father always insisted on driving over to King’s Cross, so James’s trunk was pushed
into the back of the 1951 powder blue Studebaker. It was hot outside, sticky and humid
with the promise of a late autumn.
James’s face was split in half by his infectious grin as he sat in between his parents,
bouncing up and down on the seat. He seemed even more jittery than usual to his mother,
who immediately was suspicious.
“James Potter, calm down. And just where are your glasses?”
“Mum,” he whined, hints of a Welsh accent coming through his speech. “I just put them
away. He said I don’t need to wear them all the time.”
“The Healer also said that wearing them more often will help your eye sight, do you
remember that?” she asked with a motherly eyebrow raise, but it was softened when she
reached her arm out and petted her son’s hair down, smiling at its unruly strands.
James’s father chortled loudly over the sax solo coming from their stereo, “What are you
so riled up about son? You can’t be that excited about school?” he looked down at him
with a smile.
“I am!” James grinned wider as he watched the traffic of London past his parents where
they sat by the windows. “I get to learn more spells, and I get to try out for Quidditch and
I get to see Sirius and-”
Ah, his mother thought, nodding along as her son continued. James had gotten
painfully attached to this Black boy, owling him all summer and pouting miserably for
days when Sirius’s mother said he could not come over the summer.
There seemed to be something inhuman about their relationship, and although her
husband was perfectly fine with it, Mrs. Potter was not convinced. The boy appeared nice
enough when they met briefly at the train station last year, but she just could not trust a
Black. She’d had an unfortunate run-in with Mrs. Black many years before over some use
of the word Mudblood at a dinner party and hadn’t thought much of the family since.
“You alright dear?” Mr. Potter asked, giving her a look from over top of James’s head.
The driver was parking the car now, on the left side of Euston Street, right at the station.
“Of course I am,” she huffed, following her husband and son out of the car and thanking
the driver with a smile and some Muggle pounds.
They stood on the street, watching the people go by, some clutching bagels and lunch
boxes, while others held cameras and brochures. Mrs. Potter smiled at them gratefully,
in all her life she’d never seen anything as horribly fascinating as London, and gently
steered her bubbling twelve year old into King’s Cross station.
They had barely gotten through the wall and onto the other side when a small boy with
dark hair slammed into James, hugging him again and again. She watched her son hug
the boy back, talking loudly and laughing and grinning like no tomorrow.
She smiled down at James, at Sirius, at their great big, important friendship and vowed to
be more open to this Black boy.
1975
Sirius is sitting against the stone wall, close enough to the kitchens that if he needs a hot
chocolate he can get up and get one, but far enough away that he can’t see the little pear.
The map isn’t done yet, so he’s pretty sure James’s won’t find him here.
Sirius feels strange, a little mixed about everything.
James is his life. His life. He always has been and he always will be. And tonight,
on what would be the start of their fifth year as best friends, he can’t help but want to cry
a little because he’s loved every single day of the past five years and he’s terrified of the
future.
There’s rumblings beneath his feet; the talk of war has passed rumours and moved onto
the scariest question of all: when? He can hardly stand the waiting, the unknown,
the fright that something might happen to Remus or Peter or the Potters or Regulus
or, Merlin, James, and now that he’s older and more confident he’s absolutely freaked
because in two years he and James have to go fight.
And he’s not sure he can do that.
Sirius looks down at his hands, fine like pianist fingers, thin and graceful with a curved,
slightly shimmering manicure. His mother bullied him into it the night before, and he’s
been trying to wear the magic down ever since.
Escaping James was hard tonight. All the Marauders wanted to have a big blown out
party after their over the top confetti prank at dinner. But Sirius couldn’t do it. His
parents told him over three years ago that sixteen was the magic number, the right time to
decide a career path. And they've been spending more and more time with Narcissa’s new
family, picking out Sirius’s new façade.
They want him to follow Voldemort.
And he’s not sure he can say no.
Sirius always thought himself strong and smart, free willed, brave, ready to stand up to
anyone. But now James is slipping through his fingers like sand, and Merlin knows fourth
year is over because they were happy together then and over the summer, but fucking
Potter spent the entire night trying to get Lily Evans’s attention and he doesn’t know if he
can only be James’s friend.
He’s wants so much more.
Footsteps echo down the corridor and Sirius’s head snaps up, unsurprised when he sees
round, curious hazel eyes looking him up and down.
“What the fuck you doing here?” James asks, kicking Sirius lightly in the knee with his
runner covered foot. “There’s a party up in Gryffindor.”
Sirius shrugs and James seems to take that as an invitation to sit down, knocking
shoulders with Sirius as he grins at him.
“You haven’t been right since the feast. What is it?”
Sirius looks down, dodging his head from the sharp brilliance of James’s smile and
trying to hate him. If he can hate James, or can make James hate him, this separation will
be so much easier. It’ll be easier to prepare a battle against him in the years coming.
“What, do we not tell each other things anymore?” James’s grin fades, and his eyes
narrow a little. “Everything last year, was that nothing or something?”
Sirius shakes his head, and God, this is going to be even harder than he thought. He
coughs out a reply, “’Course not. Just… Got something on my mind, is all.”
James places a hand on his chin, nudging him up to make their eyes meet. His lips don’t
move but he seems to smile down at Sirius anyway, making him turn warm.
“Tell me.” James has that same look he has when he found out Remus was a werewolf,
the same look that Snape got the day they first met him, the same look Peter was blessed
with when he first said something outrageously hilarious.
James was one hundred percent serious.
“I’m scared,” Sirius blurts out, looking down at the fingers James has clasped around his
own, tightening and squeezing and always bringing him back down to earth, always there
for him. “I’m scared of this war, and of my parents, and myself, and of losing you and…
I just don’t know how I could possibly fix this.” Sirius feels something sting in his eyes,
and he begins to blink rapidly, not daring to look at James.
“I have no idea where I belong in this. Am I the good guy or the bad one? God.”
He breaks down, taking his hand back from James’s grip so he can snuffle and snort into
his sleeve, hiccupping away his tears. He hears nothing from James beside him, only light
breathing, until the noise of shifting hits his ears and then there are warm, strong, wiry
arms around him and James’s nose is breathing in his hair, hands pressing on his back.
“Sirius.” It’s spoken as soft as a prayer, and Sirius stops hiccupping so he can hear what
his best friend has to say. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. Okay?”
James tightens his arms, burying Sirius deeper into his chest, but he doesn’t have it in
him to complain even a little.
“And I swear to you, swear on magic and mischief and fucking Albus Dumbledore
himself that I will never, ever leave you, alright? If you go down, I go down.
Fuck, you know I couldn’t live without you Sirius. You’re my best friend.”
And now Sirius is crying for an entirely different reason altogether and he’s remembering
why he went the way he did, why he became a Gryffindor when he so obviously should
have been a Slytherin. It’s James.
It’s always been James.
He slithers up in his arms, moving until his lips are level with James’s and he can place a
soft, sweet kiss to the side of his mouth. James presses his lips back immediately, a smile
growing on his lips, a hand creeping up to the side of Sirius’s face.
“I love you.”
James grins, placing a kiss on his nose,
“Love you too.”
1978
When James entered the kitchen Sirius was standing in the only apron in the house, frilly
and white, and was pleading desperately with their gas stove, begging the thing not to
explode.
“Now,” he whispered intensely, not yet knowing that James had stepped into the
room. “You’re going to light for me. Properly this time. No more of this eyebrow searing
business. I know you only love James, but if you could just pretend-”
The oven, a gift from James’s late godmother, seemed to hiss at him, warning his hand
not to go anywhere near it with a match.
“Oh shut up you! You will light, I swear.” Sirius brandished his wand menacingly at it, as
if he’d blow the whole thing to pieces.
James, who could no longer keep in the laughter that had been threatening to escape since
he eased the door open, approached his best friend with a smile. He wrapped his long
arms around the slim torso, which froze at first contact, and began chuckling.
“What,” he began, his words spoken quietly in Sirius’s ear, “the devil are you doing?”
“Er,” Sirius eloquently began, “When did you come in? I didn’t hear you.”
“I’m quiet,” James nibbled along Sirius’s throat, one hand going into his long strands of
hair. “But you didn’t answer the question.”
“Well, um,” Sirius still looked ridiculous, holding his wand at a comical angle, as if
waiting for the oven to get mad again. It seemed to purr back, content with the arrival of
James, “figured we didn’t have much to look forward to, dinner wise. Usually we have
really good food tonight, but we... well, that’s not happening today, is it?”
James shifted his head forward with a smile, hoping to catch the look on Sirius’s
face, “You tried to cook? For little old me?”
“Shut up,” Sirius laughed, cheeks only reddening slightly. He turned in James’s arms,
dropping his wand on the kitchen counter and placing his hand’s on James’s shoulders. “I
know you’re always tired after a shift at Mungo’s and I figured… well, I'm no house elf,
but I’m trying.”
James hummed, a quiet smile on his face, eyes quite unable to leave Sirius’s. He moved
forward so their foreheads touched, “Have you forgotten two summers ago, darling? I
thought you’d never cook after that attempt at brownies-”
“Hey!” Sirius laughed, punching James in the arm, “those were delicious, I seem to
remember you having more than one-”
“That’s cause you put Gillyweed in them,” James chuckled, drawing Sirius into a hug by
the neck, “Didn’t matter how burnt they were- Oi!”
“Enough out of you!” Sirius tightened his arms, closing his eyes as the scent of James
filled his mind. “I got home early so I could make this, and this is what I get?”
“Padfoot,” James pulled back only far enough so he could look Sirius in the eye, “I’d be
more than happy to just shag all night, to be honest. Maybe get some Chinese food later.”
Sirius’s eyes lit up at that, but then he shook his head in earnest, “No, no! We always
have good food on our anniversary for Christ’s sake, it’s a tradition.”
“Darling, the only important part of this day is you.” James scratched the back of his neck
with his hand, grin blossoming, “And me of course, cause I’m fucking fabulous but-”
The rest of his speech is drowned out by Sirius’s mouth as he leads them backwards, to
their bedroom.
1977
“Do you have all your clothes? Cloaks? Your cauldron?”
“Yes,” sighed Sirius, draping himself over James from where he sat in the only chair in
the room, “Christ, would you stop worrying. I’m packed, alright?”
“Sorry.” James read through the list again, looking around Sirius’s flat for anything else
that wasn’t in his trunk. “My mum made me promise I’d help you.”
“How is she anyways? Doing better?” he asked, voice careful as he walked around James
to stand next to his trunk, eyes downcast.
James coughed and squirmed in his chair for a second before beginning, “She’s doing a
bit better. The Healers say she might be able to come home in a couple weeks, maybe get
out to the house in Wales.”
Sirius laughed, “God, I love that house. Remember that time when we-”
“-threw crabapples at my neighbour’s cat?” James nodded, a small smile adorning his
face. “Yah, it was a riot.”
Sirius smiled at him but James’s eyes were already back on the paper, scanning again. He
felt a small detachment to James, something he had never felt before. They were usually
as thick as thieves, plunging into their lives straight on, holding hands as they broke the
surface. He couldn’t understand what was happening now.
“You alright? You’ve been a bit quieter than usual?”
James took a deep breath and seemed to frown at the paper, as if he didn’t hear what
Sirius said. Then he stood abruptly, flying over to Sirius and standing in front of him,
hazel eyes seeking his grey ones like they were the answer to everything.
“Do you remember in fifth year?” he asked, studying closely, “when you told me how
scared you were?” Sirius nodded, raising a hand to gently stroke James’s face, trying to
calm him. “Well I’m scared. Really fucking scared. Not just about my mum either.”
Sirius had only seen James cry twice; the day he fell off his broom in third year, breaking
both arms, and the day Sirius tricked Snivellus into visiting Moony. Sirius never wanted
to return to either of the memories, because he thought James had almost died the first
time and the second time he wished he could die, after two weeks of silence from his best
friend.
“This is our last year and I don’t know if-” James took a deep, shuddering breath and it
seemed to settle him for a second before the tears started pooling in the depths of his eyes
and Sirius couldn’t move, not a millimeter, not even to wipe them off the tip of James’s
nose.
“If something happens to you, or Moony, or Pete, or fucking Evans, god I don’t know
what I’d do.” James heaved a breath, moving closer to Sirius so he could lean against
him, drawing strength from him. “I want to fight so badly but I also just want to run away
right now, just Apparate somewhere with you and we can go live in fucking Morocco or
something, fucking Canada, I don’t care.”
“James…”
“No. No, I know. I can’t. I would hate myself. But sometimes…”
“I know.” Sirius clung to him, letting the tears turn his shirt damp. His heart broke as
he watched James, his loveable little James, break himself in two. “You’re braver than
anyone I know Prongs. We’re going to fight, you and me. We’ll do it. I promise.”
James nodded against his shoulder, sniffling twice and then released him, taking a step
back. He gave Sirius a watery smile and Sirius sent one back, concerned eyes resting on
his worn, sun kissed skin.
“We’d better go,” his voice was choked, but still strong as he walked towards the hulking
trunk in the middle of the room. “Twelve minutes to the train.”
Sirius nodded and grabbed his wand from his pocket, preparing to Apparate. He gave his
best friend one last smile before turning on the spot.
1974
The dormitory was finally silent after twelve funny stories, four pillow fights and
a massive pile of sweets. The distant sounds of Peter’s snores and Remus’s quiet
mumblings caught James’s ear as he lay in his four poster.
The only thing he couldn’t hear at all was Sirius.
His head subconsciously turned to the right, where a skip, hop and a jump over was
Sirius’s bed, warm and snug. James painfully wishes he could head over there, stay up
late and talk about the summer holiday and pranks and heroics with him, but lately James
has been feeling weird every time he sees Sirius, like his chest is too tight and his
toes can’t uncurl and there’s this upsetting bit in his stomach.
James wiggled uncomfortably and remembered the talk his mum had with him over the
summer. She kept talking about body changes and puberty and the
birds and the bees which didn’t make a whole lot of sense to James but now he’s kind
of understanding what she meant because his penis is starting to hurt a little, just like she
said, and although he had heard what the older boys said, that it means you’re about to
have sex, he couldn’t quite put the marker on that, because he wasn’t about to.
Was he?
James sat up in his bed, watching as the blankets bunched up over his waist. He debated
with himself heavily, stay, go?
Ten seconds later finds him across the cold floor, through the curtains and into the warm
covers, laying snuggly next to his best friend.
“Oi!” Sirius whispered, eyes wide with excitement in the darkness. “What’re you playing
at?”
James smiled, shuffling around in the covers so he faced Sirius on his side, reaching
out with a hand in the small space to twist Sirius’s pajama shirt into bunches. “Couldn’t
sleep.”
Sirius grinned back at him, moving so he faced James on his side as well. They stared at
each other for a moment, a minute, an hour. Then James hesitantly stopped playing with
the material at Sirius’s stomach.
His fingers casually skimmed down, right to where his shirt ended and his pants began.
He heard Sirius’s breath catch, stunned in the moment, and kept going, placing his hand
directly over the lump in Sirius’s pants, feeling his penis expand.
“James…” James had never heard his name like that, deep and soft, but really, really
fierce, like nothing else mattered. And James liked that. He liked it a lot.
His eyes downcast to watch his hand beneath the sheets, James wiggled a little closer
to Sirius until their skinny, teenage frames fit each other perfectly. He moved his hand
around, touching Sirius lightly through the thin cotton of the pajamas. It was interesting
as he felt the thing turn hard beneath him, pressing against the material, pushing up at
James’s fingers. And then Sirius made the most amazing noise, like a raw moan, and
James couldn’t help a smile grace his features.
“Sirius,” James moved his fingers up, to the drawstring of the shorts, dipping the tips in
to feel coarse hairs. “What do you want to do?”
“What?” Sirius mumbled, both hands moving for the first time to grasp and gurgle
through James’s hair. He shuddered as Sirius’s digits scratched his scalp softly, but
continued.
“I mean, I don’t know what… you know what blokes do with birds, right?”
It was silent for a second, then, “Yes.”
“Me too. But what do they do with other blokes?”
James looked up for the first time, catching the wild, ridiculous look in his best friend’s
eye. Sirius seemed to swallow deeply, eyes never leaving James’s as he replied.
“They… I think they put their uh… their dick inside… inside someone’s arse.”
James almost laughed, but Sirius’s face was far too stern for him to be joking. He
swallowed down the laugh and looked at his fingers again, following the warm heat from
Sirius’s penis.
James was never one to turn down something.
He nodded his head once and rolled over, almost knocking Sirius out of bed as he
scrambled to get on his stomach. Sirius seemed taken aback, hands still tangled in the
thick hair.
“James? What’re you-”
“I want you to do that. What you were talking about. To me.” James began to take off his
pajama bottoms, squirming on the bed as he kicked them off his legs. He looked up to
see Sirius staring at his bum, his legs, his feet, like he was unable to look away, unable to
resist putting a hand out and running it down James’s side.
James couldn’t help but laugh at the tickling sensation that Sirius’s hand brought and his
penis, smothered into the blankets, agreed wholeheartedly, getting harder by the second.
“Sirius?”
The other boy looked up, eyes dark with something unfamiliar to James. For a second
James even found himself fearful of those eyes, terrified of what they might bring. But
then Sirius grinned, and James grinned back, and Sirius placed one knee on James’s right
and one on his left and-
“How do you do it?” James asked, turning his head to see Sirius lower himself down on
his thighs, pushing his shirt up to reveal his skinny, freckled back.
“I think you have to be wet. Otherwise it doesn’t work right,” Sirius’s voice was
incredulous, his eyes watching as his hands trailed down James’s spine. “I saw in this
magazine, the guy spit on his dick. That worked.”
James nodded into the pillow, growing warmer and warmer under Sirius’s ministrations.
He looked to the side again and shot the boy a look.
“Well? Will you do it already? I want to know what it feels like.”
“Okay, okay.” Sirius’s voice had a hint of classroom notes and detentions and sneaky
grins under the cloak to it, but a lot of that was smothered down with the evident tone of
desire he had. James watched as Sirius pulled his pajamas down past his penis, which
stood up straight from his body, red and long and frightening to James’s virgin eyes.
Sirius moved down a little, sitting on James’s knees as his fingers moved into the cleft of
James’s arse, pushing around at the tight ring of muscle that hid between them. James felt
the fingers leave him for a second and looked up at Sirius, only to see him sucking on his
digits. James’s mouth went dry, but he didn’t know why.
He turned his head back into the pillow pushing against it as the weirdest feeling
overtook him. There was a wet, skinny finger in his bum. It wiggled around and touched
the side of him and James thought it felt okay, a little awkward, but not too bad. Sirius
gasped, pushing his middle finger along side it, and then James felt the same awkward
pleasure, but this time it was matched with a hint of pain.
The third finger made him almost gasp out loud, and it was only his Gryffindor ways that
kept him from asking Sirius to please, please stop. He didn’t want to disappoint
Sirius, never ever, so he bit his lip and allowed the movements to continue, out and in,
out and in. Sirius pressed his chest against James’s back, mouth next to his ear.
“You feel,” he whispered in an almost broken, but still reverent, voice, “so amazing.”
And James couldn’t help but smile at that and push back on the fingers so Sirius knew to
continue, even if the spit was drying a little and making the fingers scratch him.
But then they were gone. James let out a sigh of relief. He was just about to tell Sirius
how he’d like to touch him again when he felt something hot and blunt near his bum,
pressed right against his hole. And he knew what it was, of course he did, but he hadn’t
thought about it, and how it was going to get inside him.
Sirius pushed slowly into James, past the ring that had barely been stretched. James’s
eyes watered as his best friend’s penis slid into him, burning him, making him pulse and
sear and gape with pain.
He heard gasps above him, moans and groans as Sirius pushed further into James’s body,
further into the heat. James tried to focus on that, tried to make himself stop feeling
unhappy for himself when Sirius was obviously having a great time.
He couldn’t find it in himself to do it though, so he just laid there uncomfortably as Sirius
moved in and out of him, rubbing his inside raw and leaving him sore.
It didn’t last long, barely five thrusts before James felt a strange warmth start inside his
arse, and Sirius made the longest groan yet, filling up the darkness of the night with his
pleasure.
He rolled off James and curled into his side, kissing James on the shoulder and saying
thank you, thank you, thank you, like a blessing, like a prayer.
James ignored the way his arse stung and smiled, delicately rolling onto his side so he
could launch an arm over Sirius, dragging him close and telling him how brilliant it was.
And then Sirius looked up at him with a grin in his eye, quirking a slim, dark eyebrow.
“Do you want to try?”
And James couldn’t help but lean over and kiss him, nodding enthusiastically.
1979
The fridge was empty again.
A carton of half drained orange juice sat next to a box of Chinese takeout that was
starting to smell. Three dried apricots rested beneath them with confused, wrinkly faces,
asking quietly, what are we doing here? The plum sauce was on the inside of
the door next to the nearly empty, flipped-upside-down-so-it’s-easier-to-pour bottle of
catsup. The baking soda was close to it.
Sirius Black went into this knowing it wouldn’t be easy.
“Merlin,” he sighed, moving the carton around on the cold, white rail that held
it. “Absolutely nothing. We’ve got shit-all. Shit. Shit shit shit.”
He’s mumbling now, still staring into the Muggle contraption with the hope that
somehow something, anything, would pop up, allowing him to cook it.
It had to be today, this fiasco. It couldn’t have been yesterday when they were just
lounging around Moony’s flat, playing backgammon - no. That would have been too
convenient. If that had been the case Sirius might have had some time to run down to the
grocery store while Remus kept James busy.
Sirius held the door open to the fridge and sighed once more. The floor basked in the
glow coming from the little whirling lights of the fridge and the cold puffs of air made
the hair on his arms stand up.
He still had time. Yeah. He could do it.
Sirius closed the refrigerator and walked out of the tiny kitchen, his bare feet splashing
onto the creaky, wooden floors. It felt colder than September. The hard wood had been
making squeaks and squeals for days as the sweltering days of August dwindled down,
and those damn green, healthy trees were already starting to go brown with the promise
of the ice and harsh winds of winter.
There was a twenty four hour mini-mart just down the road from his flat. If he could
manage to get there, pick up some groceries, run back, prepare dinner, all before James
got back from his shift at the hospital - then maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to pull off
an amazing night, fit for their ninth anniversary of being best friends.
He wanted, no needed this day to be perfect. This was his last chance, the last
fallen effort to convince James to leave Lily and come to him, for them to take off
together, see the world and just love, love so painfully hard that people will remember
them for decades, for centuries. He wanted to be known forever as the man who loved
James Potter more than anyone would ever love anyone else, ever.
Sirius grabbed his keys and his coat and was out the door in seconds.
1976
“I’ve got the Pumpkin Pasties, don’t worry!” Remus entered the carriage loaded with
goods and dumped his parcel on Sirius, who was lying with his feet closest to the door,
head in James’s lap. Peter sat across from James, locked in a staring contest with him.
Remus snorted at that, throwing the Licorice Wands at James head to make him yelp.
James blinked, eyes watering unnaturally. While Peter whooped and cheered, he dropped
a glance onto Remus who looked like he hadn’t slept all summer. James’s chest tightened
and he leaned forward, hand going into Sirius’s wavy hair and stroking it.
“You alright Moony?” he asked, concern dripping through his words. Remus looked up
at him and gave a faint smile, nodding slightly.
“Course I am. How could I not be?” he turned his smile to Peter and reached an arm out
to ruffle his hair. James cleared his throat and nodded.
“So what the fuck are we going to do at the feast tonight, eh?” Sirius asked, grin wide. He
pushed back against James’s legs, shuffling his own lap around so the Pumpkin Pasties
slid towards his mouth, “Someone had to have come up with a prank over the summer.”
“Are you joking Padfoot?” Peter asked around a mouthful of licorice. “All I’ve done all
summer is think about what I want to do with my life. McGonagall needs me to tell her at
the feast tonight and I’ve got fuck all.”
“You’d probably be good at dealing with Muggles. You have enough patience.” Remus
suggested, taking a bite out of a fluffy, marshmallow snitch.
“Or one of those goblins down in Gringotts. You look the part.” Sirius grinned, sending a
wink Peter’s way.
“Fuck off!”
“I’m just saying.”
“I know what you mean, Pete,” James sighed, fingers slowly dragging through Sirius’s
hair, “I can’t make up my mind. A huge part of me wants to be an Auror, but I can’t stop
thinking about Healing. Sort of a different kind of hero, right?”
“Really?” Sirius sat up, looking curiously at James, “I thought you wanted to be in the
middle of the action, fighting off Death Eaters left, right and centre.”
James shrugged and looked out at the English countryside. The compartment went silent,
both Peter and Remus looking to Sirius with confused glances.
James stared out at the land whistling by and thought of his mum, who had been having
dizzy spells that summer. He had never even considered a job in Healing, but after
spending a week at the hospital with her it seemed like those people, the special, brilliant
Healers, were the real soldiers. Something he wanted to be.
When the Aurors fought and destroyed and held on by their teeth through battles, the
Healers waited, breath held for news. And when the Aurors came pounding through the
hospital with the injured, the Healers fixed them up, or maybe they didn’t, but they tried
their hardest. They saved people. They were the brave ones.
He wanted to be able to patch people back up, to give them the hope to continue. He still
wanted to fight, god yes, with every bone in his body, but he wanted, no needed, to be
able to put his friends and family back together if worst came to worst.
He stared out the window for an immeasurable amount of time before Sirius tapped him
on the shoulder twice, proclaiming a brilliant smile and just a hint of mischief in his eye.
“We’re going to play Exploding Snap. Want to play, James?” he asked.
James sat still for a second before grinning back, nodding and leaning forward to collect
his hand from Moony.
1973
“I thought that bloody sorting would never end!” came the muggy sounds of Peter
Pettigrew as he immediately began to fill his plate up with the never-ending food; roasts
and potatoes and tarts and corn.
Sirius smiled over the chicken at James, who grinned right on back, hazel eyes sparking
up behind his round glasses. It took Sirius a second to regain his breath, noticing the way
James seemed to have grown taller and skinnier and cuter, God anything but cuter, over
the summer. He was all bone and grins and quick winks, perfect, just Sirius’s
type.
Remus elbowed him in the side, “Earth to Sirius. Come in Sirius.”
He shook himself awake, diving into his plate and turning to Remus with a mouthful of
potatoes, chomping loudly. Remus crinkled his nose while James laughed over his soup,
slurping noisily.
They ate their dinner quickly with fierce smiles and long tales of heat and waves and
Remus’s dog and Peter’s mum and James’s gorgeous house in Northern Wales. By the
time it was Sirius’s turn, dessert had been served.
“So then my cousin, bloody girl,” Sirius was saying, leaning into his treacle tart while
brandishing his fork around, bits of tart hitting Remus as he tried to make his point. “She
throws the doll out the door, not knowing that Kreacher’s standing there-”
Peter snorted into his éclair and James thumped him on the back, grin wide, ready for the
climax of Sirius’s story.
“-And my aunt walks in and yells, ‘Bellatrix Black I have never seen such a wild,
atrocious…blah blah blah’” Sirius laughed, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. “And you have
to know my aunt’s never yelled that much since the day I made her tea turn into confetti
at a Christmas party when I was 8.”
James laughed at that, loud and wholeheartedly, and Sirius grinned at him, then at Peter,
and finally at Remus, glad to be back from all the hate that was summer vacation. The
story he told didn’t amuse him too much, but he was glad the other’s enjoyed it.
The end of the feast came quick enough, food disappearing and Prof. Dumbledore
exclaiming his usual farewell of Pip Pip! The four walked down the corridors,
following the rest of Gryffindor house until they passed the painting of Wendelin
the Weird and Remus took a sudden right, passing through the wall and into a secret,
winding passageway. The rest followed him.
Sirius walked with James, staring down at his feet as Remus and Peter took the lead,
arguing over the Silver Snitch’s new album. He glanced over at James as they passed the
secret stairwell that took one directly to the Hufflepuff common room.
He took a deep breath.
“James?” and James stopped, turning to look at Sirius as Remus and Peter turned the
corner, lost as always, in their conversation.
“Yeah, Sirius?” he asked, eyes lighting up ever so slightly as they smiled at him.
“I just… I wanted to…”
Sirius closed his eyes for a second. He pictured James, his James, his best friend
for two whole years, the boy he thought was cuter than any of those girls at the feast that
night.
He leaned forward, seizing that beautiful, ripe Gryffindor bravery that lay inside him. His
lips pressed against James’s quiet, warm, red ones, pushing lightly on his mouth. Sirius
raised a hand to James’s face, cupping the sweet, soft cheek of his friend and then pulled
away.
He was only an inch away before James’s speckled hand flashed out and grabbed his hair
and pulled Sirius’s lips back on his own. They stayed like that for another minute, quietly
pressing kisses to each other’s mouth, quietly smiling through occupied lips, quietly
breathing in each other’s breaths.
James pulled away and grinned.
“What was that for?” his eyes full of mischief and friendship and a special kind of
wonder.
“You’ve freckles on you lips.” Sirius grinned back and leaned in, intent on kissing every
one of them freckles.
1980
The house was quiet for the first time in months. James was standing at his stove, smiling
down into a pot of boiling water. He tossed a handful of pasta in, and then another.
James wasn’t stupid. He knew what day it was.
He stirred in the long, thin spaghetti noodles, pushing them down so he can fit the pot
lid back on top. He sneaked a piece out and snaps it between his teeth, chewing on it
carefully as he waited for the sound of the doorbell.
Another minute. Then it rang.
He didn't bother to go answer it; Sirius had a key, and besides - it was open.
Sure enough it wasn’t a minute later when he heard a chuckle behind him.
James turned to see a shirtless Sirius, t-shirt flung haphazardly over the nearest chair as
he walked towards James. There was a dangerous glint in his eye, something sexy and
dark and uncharted. James shuddered and turned back to the stove.
Sirius walked behind him, arms winding around James’s body like a snake, pulling him
close, too close.
“Sirius…” It was a warning, but he hadn't caught it.
“What?” Sirius’s voice was light, innocent. “I’m not allowed to hug my best friend?”
James coughed and stared down at the pasta, not allowing himself to feel anything
towards Sirius. He knew what he had to do.
Sirius’s mouth was at his ear, “Happy 10th anniversary, darling,” he whispered, lips
stroking James’s ear as he spoke.
“Hell of a ride, wasn’t it?” asked James, turning his head to see Sirius’s eyes straight on.
Sirius laughed, smoothing his hand down James’s back, eyes dancing merrily in the light
over the stove.
"What’s for dinner?" Sirius's voice suggested his interest, but the hand swaying down
James's arse then back up again implied something different.
"Spaghetti. Your favourite." James couldn't help but smile when Sirius let out a happy
little shout and kissed him on the cheek. "And what's up with you tonight? Someone took
a little too many happy pills."
"I am happy."
"I got that." James smirked, taking the pot off the top and stirring the noodles again.
"Want to know why?" Sirius looked positively gleeful now. James hadn't seen him, hell
he hadn't seen anyone, this excited since before the war, before the nightly terrors
and the daily lies.
Sirius could never, ever keep a secret for too long so James saved him from it, leaning in
a little and whispering, "Why?"
Sirius's smile turned less sly and more soft as he whispered back, "Because you chose
me."
Silence, and the world stopped. Silence, and James's heart broke.
"Sirius. Sirius. Sirius, wait." He tried to grab onto something, anything that would make
him come off as something more than a jerk, more than a man who was about to ruin a
ten year friendship.
"What? What? What?" Sirius mocked, grin still stretched across his face. He slid another
kiss over James before walking to the fridge and opening it, peering inside for something
to drink, "You got any firewhisky?"
"Sirius, please stop looking through the fridge."
"Who the fuck eats yogurt?" Sirius held a cup of the product in his hand, gesturing with it
like a madman. "Please don't tell me it's you."
James walked briskly up to him and took the yogurt out of Sirius's hand, threw it back in
the fridge and slammed the door shut, "It's Lily's, now will you please listen to me?"
Sirius was quiet for a second, and then he looked up, his eyes have lost their spark and he
just seemed concerned, "What is it Prongs?"
James felt his throat close up, but continued, "Sirius, I asked you here tonight because
we're mates. Not because I… I'm not sleeping with you."
Silence rang through the flat for a second, broken only by the hum of the appliance,
before Sirius let loose.
"You're kidding me, right?" he laughed, bark-like noises coming from the back of his
throat, "We always fuck on September the 1st. Since fourth year for Christ's sake."
He dived in, mouth landing on James's and began pulling and prodding and licking and
sucking his way into James's lips and tongue, and it wastoo much, too much for James
and he couldn't even-
"Sirius!" he pushed him away, wiping a hand across his mouth, "I'm not joking, okay?"
"James." Sirius's playful mood dropped and suddenly daggers were duller than his
eyes, "Don't fuck with me."
"I'm not. Sirius we can't… we can't do this again."
James was worn out, like he'd just run fifty miles in a race he hadn't known he was
running in. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning and his lungs were
heaving, desperate to get more Sirius filled air before it was torn away from him by his
own actions.
Sirius looked like he's trying to say something, but it wasn't coming out. Then finally, a
choked, bitter sound, "Why?"
James nods, looking down at his feet, "For Harry. I can't do that to him, or Lily. It isn't
fair."
"Isn't fair?!" Sirius seemed to explode, his eyes wild, his voice rasped and loud, "You
want to talk about fucking fair? It isn't fair that she stole you away from me in seventh
year, it isn't fair that she got pregnant, it isn't fucking fair that you chose some girl over
ten years of friendship-"
"I didn’t choose anything!" James yelled back, wanting to sink Sirius further into his
labyrinth of hate for reasons he can't imagine, "You knew, even when we were fourteen
that it could never be more than this. We could never actually be together."
"You swore on the fucking Marauders that you would never do this to me. Never leave
me for that fucking ginger." There was murder in Sirius's eyes, and the sting of tears,
desperately wanting to spill over onto his ragged face.
"Well we can't change that now, can we?" James roared back, turning around to put a
hand on the table, steadying himself, promising his heart that this is, this had to be
the right thing.
It lasted a minute, two minutes, three minutes, this disgusting silence, growing and eating
away at the fury waving off the two men. Finally, Sirius spoke:
"Tell me why again."
He turned back to him, “Why what?”
Sirius sighed loudly, his eyes narrowed, glaring at his best friend like nothing else, “Why
you married that bitch.”
“Lily’s not a bitch.”
“Why James? Why?” His words were like poison and they seemed to creep into James
like that, drag him down and make him want to cry. He fought the feeling off and snarled
back.
“Because I love her.”
“Oh yeah. Is that it?”
“Don’t be a arse Padfoot-”
“Do you love her more than me then?” he asked, his grey eyes cold, his mouth set, but
James could see right through him, had always been able to see right through Sirius Black
and his fucking façade.
“Why would you-”
“Do you?”
James coughed and looked at the floor, unable to keep looking at Sirius, “Yes.”
“Bullshit.”
“Sirius!”
“No James!” The bulb in the lamp to James’s right exploded, glass fragments barely
skimming past the fighting friends, “Who was your first kiss, eh? Who was the first
person you ever had sex with? Who was there when your mom died, who helped you
get a O in Potions so you could get into the Academy, who fought with you two fucking
nights ago when that asshole tried to kill you-”
“Sirius.”
It wasn’t yelled or screamed or shrieked. It wasn’t said in madness or anger or jealousy. It
was just said, as plain as day.
And nothing hurt more.
Sirius nodded, tears flowing freely off his face. He turned, walking swiftly from the flat.
There wasn't anything left to say.
The slam from the door seemed to echo through James's whole body before he broke
down on the ground.
1971
Sirius Black drug the trunk behind him, looking desperately over the platform for his
parents, but all he could see was thick steam coming from the scarlet train next to him.
He was scared and excited and terrified to be leaving, going away with people his parents
assured him would be crazy and horrible and disgusting.
As he walked by a group of older teenagers in blue ties he was hit by someone running
in the opposite direction. It knocked him off his feet, flat on the ground with the wind
rushing out of his lungs.
A strange, warm weight settled on him and Sirius opened his eyes to a pair of bright,
shining hazel orbs, inches from his face.
“Sorry!” a cheerful, friendly, slightly Welsh voice says, “Didn’t see where I was going!”
The weight lifted off him, pushing and scrambling and then a freckled hand appears,
jutted out from the body of a slight, messy boy with a brilliant smile. Sirius looked at the
hand for a minute before grabbing it with his own, letting this strange new boy pull him
to his feet.
“I really am sorry,” the boy hadn’t let go of his hand and was instead pumping it up and
down, grinning and wrinkling his little, freckled nose up and looking at Sirius with those
big, glowing eyes. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“S’alright.” Sirius said because he couldn’t imagine it not being, not with this boy, in this
place, at this time. Everything seemed perfect.
And just because he’d been trained since such a young age to always introduce himself,
he shook the boy’s hand again, still attached to his, and let a bemused smile on his
face, “I’m Sirius Black.”
If the boy was happy before he was nothing short of ecstatic now.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m James Potter.”
end