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Chapter Text

The door shut behind Remus with a soft click, but it felt like the sound of a gavel being struck. Final. Irrevocable. The air in the Gryffindor dormitory seemed to shudder under the weight of it, stretching vast and hollow though the room had never been anything but cramped.

James Potter sat perfectly still on his bed, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose, watching Sirius as though he were a wild creature that might bolt or shatter at the faintest sound. Sirius hadn’t moved since Remus left. His back was rigid, eyes locked on the door, shoulders heaving with breaths that seemed too shallow to sustain him.

James recognized this silence. He had seen it before—when Sirius’s mother screamed through the Floo, when letters from home went unopened and then torn to shreds, when Sirius came back from detentions bloodied by hexes he swore were “worth it.” That silence wasn’t quiet at all. It was a roar.

And James knew it meant the breaking point was near.

It came in a tremor first—Sirius’s hands twitching, restless, grasping fistfuls of the blanket beneath him. His head bowed, dark hair falling forward like a curtain, and then the sound slipped through: a mutter, low and ragged. “Bloody hell.”

The words cracked apart on his tongue, rough and ruined. And then, as if the utterance had snapped something inside him, Sirius collapsed forward, burying his face in his hands. The sobs came sharp and strangled, tearing out of him against his will.

James was moving before he thought. He slid from his bed and crossed the few feet to Sirius’s side, crouching so their eyes would be level if Sirius ever dared to lift his head. Gently, carefully, he laid a hand on Sirius’s shoulder.

“Hey, mate,” James said softly, the tenderness in his voice surprising even himself. “It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

But Sirius jerked away violently, shoving his hand off as though it burned. His head snapped up, and James’s breath caught at the sight of his face—wet with tears, red-rimmed eyes blazing with fury and grief tangled together.

“No!” Sirius shouted, his voice breaking in the middle. “You don’t get it!”

His chest heaved, his hands flexing as though he needed something to strike. He looked utterly lost, and James felt his own heart split open at the sight.

“I… I just… I don’t understand,” Sirius choked out. “Why he’d go with him. With Regulus. After everything. After me!”

James froze. The ache in Sirius’s voice was unbearable, like a knife twisting. He wanted to fix it, to take Sirius’s face in his hands and tell him that Remus’s choices didn’t erase Sirius’s worth. That he, James, saw him clearer than anyone else ever could. But those words lodged in his throat. They weren’t what Sirius needed. They were what James longed to say.

Instead, he made his voice steady, gentle. “I know it hurts, Pads. Feels like a punch in the chest, doesn’t it? But it’s not your fault. He’s not leaving because of anything you did. He’s just… choosing what he thinks he needs.”

Sirius’s mouth twisted. He looked like he wanted to argue, to rail against the truth, but then his face crumpled. His words came out broken, barely more than a whisper. “But it’s not just him.” His hands clawed at his hair, tugging. “It’s Regulus too. I never got a chance… I wanted…” His throat worked as he swallowed a sob. “I wanted to have a relationship with him. Not like this. Not with all this mess. I wanted him in my life. I still do.”

James’s chest ached. Sirius had always wanted to belong—to be chosen, to be loved without conditions. And now he was left with two people pulling away, two doors slamming shut at once.

James squeezed his shoulder, his touch firm but not forceful. “I get it. You want your brother back. You want Remus, too. And suddenly it feels like everything’s slipping away. But listen to me, Pads—Regulus is still your brother. That door isn’t closed. Not forever.”

Sirius let out a sharp, ragged breath, bending forward until his forehead nearly touched his knees. His hair fell like a curtain, shielding him. James kept his hand on him, grounding him, though inside his own chest something was fracturing.

Because Sirius wasn’t just his mate. Not to James.

He thought of the first time he’d noticed it—the difference. It had been Quidditch practice, third year, late autumn when the air bit cold and the grass glittered with frost. Sirius had arrived late, sauntering onto the pitch with his broom slung carelessly over his shoulder, the morning light catching in his hair. James had shouted at him for being late, but the words had died on his tongue. Because Sirius had grinned at him—sharp, reckless, dazzling—and James’s stomach had done something he didn’t have a name for then.

The match went poorly. James, distracted, missed two saves. But he remembered only Sirius, circling high above, his laughter carrying on the wind every time he dipped and dove. It had lodged itself inside James like a spell that refused to fade.

That was when it had started, though he hadn’t dared admit it. That was when Sirius stopped being just a mate and became something else. Something dangerous. Something James wanted more than anything and could never have.

Now, crouched beside Sirius’s shaking form, James felt the weight of that truth pressing harder than ever.

“Pads,” James said quietly, forcing strength into his tone, “you don’t have to fix everything all at once. Just… breathe. You’re allowed to feel this. You’re allowed to want more than one person in your life. Regulus. Remus. Both. It’s not wrong.”

Sirius’s breath hitched. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned sideways until his temple pressed against James’s shoulder. His body trembled with the effort of holding himself together, and James wrapped an arm around him, steadying him, shielding him as best he could.

And as Sirius cried into him, James thought—not for the first time—that he would burn the whole world down if it meant Sirius would never feel alone again.

James held Sirius as though his arms alone could hold him together. Sirius’s body shook against him, every breath sharp and uneven, each sob a fresh wound James couldn’t close. He could feel the dampness spreading on his shirt where Sirius’s face pressed, but he didn’t care. He only tightened his grip, grounding Sirius with every small, steady movement of his hand along his back.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” James murmured into the silence. “Not while I’m here.”

Sirius let out a noise that was half laugh, half sob—bitter and broken. “You don’t get it, Prongs. You can’t. It’s not just about Moony walking away. It’s not just about Regulus being… him. It’s both, and it feels like… like I’m bleeding out and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

James shut his eyes. He wanted to tell him he did get it—that he understood what it was like to want someone so badly it hollowed you out, to ache with the need for them to stay. But if he admitted that, if he told Sirius that he was the one James wanted, the one James loved, he risked everything. Sirius didn’t need that now. He needed comfort, not confession.

So James stayed silent, letting Sirius’s words hang in the air.

The dormitory was hushed except for the ragged sound of Sirius’s crying, and James became acutely aware of the small details around them—the moonlight slipping in through the window, the way the curtains around Peter’s bed swayed faintly as if stirred by invisible hands, the chill that clung to the stone walls. The world had narrowed to just this moment: Sirius breaking, James holding.

“Why him?” Sirius rasped suddenly, lifting his head just enough to look at James. His eyes were red, lashes clumped with tears, his cheeks streaked and raw. “Why does Remus want him? Regulus. The one person I’ve spent my life trying to get away from.” His hands curled into fists, his voice thick with despair. “Why would Remus choose him over me?”

James’s heart clenched. He wanted to tell him the truth as he saw it—that Remus’s choice didn’t lessen Sirius’s worth, that Sirius was magnetic and brilliant and alive in a way Regulus could never be. That James himself couldn’t look away from him, hadn’t been able to since the day they met on the Hogwarts Express. But again, those words weren’t what Sirius needed.

“Sometimes people don’t choose what makes sense,” James said softly. “Sometimes they choose what they think they need, even if it looks mad from the outside. But Remus choosing Regulus doesn’t erase what he feels for you. And it doesn’t erase what Regulus is to you either.”

Sirius scoffed, but his voice shook. “Regulus has hated me for years. He’s made sure I know it. And yet—bloody hell—I still want him to… to see me. To want me in his life.” He pressed his palms hard against his eyes, as if trying to stop the flood of tears. “And now he’s got Moony, and it’s like—like I’ve lost them both in one night.”

James didn’t think, just reached out and pried Sirius’s hands away from his face, holding them firmly in his own. “Look at me.”

Sirius’s watery eyes lifted to his, and the force of that gaze nearly undid James. He swallowed the ache, forcing steadiness.

“You haven’t lost them,” James said firmly. “Not unless you walk away. Not unless you decide to let them go. You’re still here. And they’re still out there. That means there’s a chance. It may not look the way you pictured, Pads, but there’s still something to hold onto. You hear me?”

Sirius blinked at him, lips trembling as though he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the strength. After a long pause, he slumped forward again, forehead pressing into James’s shoulder.

James let out a shaky breath, relief and heartbreak tangling together. He smoothed a hand through Sirius’s hair, slow and careful, each pass a silent vow: I’ve got you. Always.

And as he held him, another memory came flooding back—one that had lodged itself in James’s heart years ago.

It was fourth year, late one night in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. James had been dozing in an armchair, glasses sliding crookedly down his nose, when a crash jolted him awake. Sirius had stormed in, robes half torn, hair disheveled, fury radiating from every inch of him.

“What happened?” James had asked, leaping up.

“Snape,” Sirius had spat, throwing his bag down with a force that rattled the table. “Ran his mouth about my family. About how I’d end up just like them. Said I was filth pretending to be better.”

James had seen it then—the faint tremor in Sirius’s hands, the way his bravado cracked at the edges. Without thinking, James had closed the distance and grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re nothing like them,” he’d said fiercely. “Nothing. You’re better than all of them combined, and if he can’t see that, he’s a bloody idiot.”

Sirius had tried to brush it off, laugh, but the sound had wavered. And then—unexpected, breathtaking—Sirius had leaned into him, head dropping against James’s chest for the briefest of moments. James had held him, startled, heart hammering so loudly he was sure Sirius could hear it.

That night, James had realized it wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just admiration. It was love. Fierce, unshakable, terrifying love.

And now, years later, Sirius was in his arms again, unraveling, broken open in a way he let no one else see. And James loved him all the more for it.

“Pads,” James whispered, unsure if Sirius could even hear him through the haze of his grief, “you’re not alone. Not while I’m here.”

Sirius’s reply was muffled, his voice hoarse against James’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not ever again.”

James’s throat tightened. You don’t have to be. You never have to be—not if you choose me, he thought desperately. But he only held Sirius tighter, giving him the promise in touch that he couldn’t give in words.

The dormitory seemed to hold its breath around them, the silence deep and fragile. And James thought, not for the first time, that he could spend the rest of his life like this—Sirius pressed against him, the weight of his trust heavy and sacred. Even if Sirius never knew the truth, even if James had to keep his love buried forever, this would be enough.

‧͙ ⁺˚* ･ ༓ ☾ 　　 ☽ ༓ ･ *˚⁺ ‧͙

Sirius’s breathing slowed by degrees, the ragged edges softening, though the tremor in his body lingered. James kept his arm firm around him, refusing to let the silence turn brittle. He knew Sirius well enough to recognize that once the storm passed, shame often crept in to fill its place. Sirius hated to be seen breaking—hated to feel weak.

But James never saw weakness in these moments. Only courage. Because to let yourself fall apart in front of someone else… that took trust. And Sirius trusted him.

James wanted to whisper it, to tell him how much that trust meant, how desperately he wanted to be the one Sirius leaned on forever. Instead, he stayed steady, anchoring them in the present while inside his chest his heart howled with words unspoken.

“Feels impossible,” Sirius murmured after a long while, his voice cracked and hoarse. “Everything’s so bloody tangled. Moony leaving. Regulus being… Regulus. I can’t see a way through it. I don’t know where I stand with either of them.”

James brushed his thumb absently against Sirius’s shoulder, a small gesture of comfort he couldn’t stop himself from making. “One step at a time, Pads. That’s all anyone can do. Doesn’t have to be solved tonight. You just… let yourself feel it first.”

Sirius let out a humorless laugh, muffled against James’s shirt. “You always make it sound so simple.”

“That’s because you’re rubbish at making things simple,” James replied gently. “Someone’s got to balance you out.”

Sirius huffed a laugh—fragile, but real. And the sound filled James with a fierce, aching relief.

For a moment, James let himself drift back to another night—one that lived sharp and permanent in his memory.

It had been the summer before fifth year when Sirius had arrived at the Potters’ doorstep in the dead of night. James remembered opening the door, bleary-eyed, only to find Sirius standing there with nothing but a half-torn trunk and exhaustion etched into his face. His clothes were ripped, his lip bleeding, his eyes wild with something James hadn’t seen before: fear.

“Pads?” James had whispered, pulling him inside before anyone could wake the neighborhood. “What happened?”

Sirius had shaken his head, jaw clenched tight. “I’m not going back. Not ever. I told her, and she—” He’d cut himself off, but James didn’t need the rest. He’d seen enough of Walburga Black to fill in the gaps.

James had taken the trunk from him, set it down, and without hesitation wrapped his arms around Sirius. He remembered the way Sirius stiffened, unused to the embrace, before finally sagging against him, his body shaking with silent fury. James had held on, whispering fiercely, “You don’t ever have to go back. You’ve got a home here. With us. With me.”

That night had branded itself into James’s heart. Because it was the first time Sirius let himself collapse fully into his arms, and James had realized something undeniable: he wanted to be Sirius’s safe place. Always.

And here they were again. Years later. Sirius breaking, James holding him together. Some things hadn’t changed.

Sirius shifted now, pulling back just enough to look at James. His eyes were swollen, his face pale, but there was something raw and unguarded in his expression. “I just… I don’t want to lose them,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Not Remus. Not Regulus. I just want them in my life. All of them.”

James met his gaze, steady and sure, even as his own heart twisted painfully. “You won’t lose them,” he said firmly. “Not if you don’t let go. You’re Sirius Black. You don’t give up. You fight. And that’s what you’ll do here—fight to keep them in your life, even if it looks different than you wanted.”

Sirius’s lips trembled. He looked on the verge of breaking again, but instead he gave the smallest nod. “Yeah… maybe. One step at a time.”

“Exactly.” James gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “One step at a time.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, the dormitory wrapped around them like a cocoon. The moonlight stretched long across the floorboards, their shadows merging into one. Sirius’s breathing steadied, the tremors fading until he leaned fully against James, heavy with exhaustion.

James didn’t move. He let Sirius rest against him, every line of contact burning into his skin like a brand. His heart thudded painfully, but he forced the storm inside him to quiet. Because this wasn’t about him. Not tonight.

Still, he couldn’t stop the thought that rose, unbidden, fierce and sharp: I love you. I’ve loved you for years. And I’d stay here forever if you asked me to.

He didn’t say it. He couldn’t. But he poured the truth into every touch—the steady press of his hand on Sirius’s back, the way he shifted just enough to support Sirius’s weight more comfortably, the way his chin rested lightly atop Sirius’s hair.

At last, Sirius whispered, hoarse but resolute, “Okay. One step at a time.”

James smiled faintly, though his throat ached with everything he couldn’t voice. “That’s the spirit.”

Sirius didn’t answer, but his body relaxed further, his head slipping to rest more firmly against James’s shoulder. His breaths deepened, slow and uneven, but calmer now.

James sat there in the quiet, watching the rise and fall of Sirius’s chest, memorizing the moment. He knew tomorrow the walls would be back up, Sirius’s mask of arrogance firmly in place. He knew no one else would see him like this—raw, vulnerable, undone.

But James had. And James would hold that privilege like something sacred.

The dormitory was silent save for the faint crackle of the dying fire downstairs. James let the weight of Sirius against him anchor him in the present, even as the unspoken words burned in his throat.

“One step at a time,” he whispered again, more to himself than to Sirius. And then, quieter still, words meant for no ears but his own: “And I’ll be here for all of them.”

Because no matter what happened—Remus, Regulus, heartbreak, betrayal—James knew his place. At Sirius’s side. Always.

Chapter Text

The dormitory seemed to settle again after their laughter faded, but Sirius didn’t feel settled. His body might have been slouched against the pillows, but his brain was buzzing. James had taken it so… casually. No judgment, no shock, no disgust. Just James, grinning through the dark like it was no different than asking about Quidditch practice.

And Sirius found himself both relieved and unsettled.

“Prongs?” he said softly.

James, who’d been fiddling with the hem of his blanket, hummed.

“Do you think—” Sirius chewed his lip. “Do you think people know? Like, if you are… different. Can they tell?”

James frowned, rolling onto his side to face him. His glasses glinted with moonlight. “What, like some secret mark stamped on your forehead? No. I don’t think so.”

“But people guess things,” Sirius muttered. “They gossip. They look. And I already—” He cut himself off.

“You already what?” James pressed.

Sirius shrugged, fiddling with his sheets. “Already don’t fit. With my family. With… all of it. I’m supposed to be exactly like them. And I’m not.”

James’s face softened again. He reached over the space between their beds and flicked Sirius’s arm. “Good. Who wants to be like your family anyway? Bunch of stiff-necked, miserable gits.”

That coaxed a reluctant laugh out of Sirius. “True.”

“Besides,” James added, “you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. Or this year. Or next. We’re twelve. You’ve got time.”

Sirius smirked. “Easy for you to say, Potter. You already think Evans is the future Mrs. James Potter.”

James flushed. “I never said that!”

“You did,” Sirius countered. “You doodled it in your notebook once. I saw.”

James spluttered. “That was—shut up.”

Sirius grinned, leaning back against his headboard. The tension ebbed, replaced by familiar mischief. “Don’t worry, mate. Your secret’s safe. Just like mine.”

James made a face. “I can’t believe you’re blackmailing me with Lily Evans over this conversation.”

“I can and I am,” Sirius said smugly.

They both dissolved into muffled laughter, trying not to wake the others. But when the chuckles faded, the quiet returned, deeper than before.

“Do you think,” Sirius asked cautiously, “it’ll ever… I dunno… be allowed? For people to be together. Boys and boys. Girls and girls.”

James thought about that for a while. “Dunno,” he admitted. “Maybe not for everyone. But… I think people like us—we don’t really care what’s allowed, do we?”

That made Sirius smile, small but real. “No. We don’t.”

The Next Morning

When the bell for breakfast rang through the castle, Sirius woke bleary-eyed but lighter. He stretched, yawning, and caught James watching him from his own bed.

“You look like you wrestled a troll all night,” James said cheerfully.

“You look like you lost,” Sirius shot back, grinning.

Remus was already tying his tie in the mirror, and Peter was rummaging for his socks. Neither seemed to notice the shift in the air between Sirius and James, but Sirius felt it—something subtle and new. Not bad. Just… different.

They trailed down to the Great Hall, Sirius bumping James’s shoulder every few steps until James shoved him back with an exasperated grin.

When they sat down at the Gryffindor table, James piled his plate high with eggs while Sirius toyed with a piece of toast.

“You’re quiet,” James said under his breath.

“Am not,” Sirius muttered.

“You are,” James insisted. He leaned closer. “Still thinking?”

Sirius gave him a sideways look. “Maybe.”

James shrugged. “Well, don’t do it on an empty stomach. Eat.” He shoved a sausage onto Sirius’s plate.

Sirius rolled his eyes but took a bite anyway, just to shut him up.

Later That Day

Classes were tedious, as usual. Sirius barely paid attention in History of Magic, doodling in the margins instead. James kept nudging him with quills, trying to copy his doodles.

At lunch, Sirius finally muttered, “You ever—like—wonder what it’d be like? To actually kiss someone?”

James choked on his pumpkin juice. “Merlin’s beard, Pads, warn me first!”

Sirius smirked. “What, never thought about it?”

James coughed, wiping his mouth. “’Course I have. With girls.”

“Obviously.” Sirius tapped his fork against his plate. “But really think about it. Not just… daydreamy stuff. Like… how it’d feel.”

James went quiet. For once, Sirius had managed to stump him.

After a long pause, James said slowly, “I reckon it’d be… nice. Warm. A bit clumsy, probably.”

Sirius tilted his head. “Yeah. That’s what I think too.”

James gave him a searching look, but didn’t press.

Midnight Again

That night, Sirius couldn’t help it—he poked James’s arm again across the gap between their beds.

“Prongs.”

James groaned. “If this is another deep philosophical crisis, can it wait until morning?”

“No.” Sirius smirked in the dark. “I was thinking—”

“Dangerous.”

“—that maybe we should just try it.”

James blinked. “Try what?”

“Kissing.” Sirius grinned, enjoying James’s spluttering. “What? You said you wonder. I wonder. Why not?”

James sat up, looking scandalized. “Pads, we can’t just—”

“Why not? No one’s here. No one’ll know. It’s an experiment.”

James looked torn between horror and intrigue. “An experiment?”

“Exactly.” Sirius leaned forward, hair falling into his eyes. “For science.”

James groaned into his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, smirking. “But you’re thinking about it.”

James peeked out between his fingers, cheeks pink. “…Shut up.”

Sirius laughed softly. He didn’t push it further—yet. But the thought lingered, sweet and dangerous.

Days After

Over the next week, Sirius noticed things differently. How Remus’s hands moved when he turned pages in a book. How James’s laughter filled a room and made Sirius feel steadier.

He hated it, a little. Noticing made him vulnerable. But he also loved it.

One afternoon in the courtyard, Sirius caught James staring at a seventh-year Ravenclaw practicing spells. Sirius raised his eyebrows.

“What?” James snapped, ears going red.

“Nothing,” Sirius said innocently. “Just—guess you don’t only look at Evans.”

James shoved him. “Shut it.”

Sirius only grinned, but inside, the knot in his chest loosened further.

Another Talk

One night, maybe a week later, James whispered across the dorm again.

“Pads?”

Sirius turned over. “Yeah?”

“You know that thing you said. About trying it. The… kissing experiment.”

Sirius smirked in the dark. “What about it?”

James hesitated, then said quickly, “Maybe… not tonight. But maybe someday. Just to see.”

Sirius grinned wide, though James couldn’t see it. “Someday, then.”

And with that, Sirius finally drifted into sleep, his mind quiet for the first time in ages.

Chapter Text

The storm had rolled in at dusk, rattling the windows of Gryffindor Tower while the boys trudged back from dinner. Now, hours later, the rain still hammered the castle with relentless fingers. Lightning cracked every so often, and the low boom of thunder made the glass quiver in its leaded frames.

Most of the dormitory was asleep—Remus, curled on his side with a book slipping from his hand; Peter, snoring softly under his blankets. Only two beds showed signs of life.

On one, Sirius Black sprawled dramatically on his back, arm flung over his face as if the weight of the world pressed him flat. On the other, James Potter rolled restlessly, glasses askew, muttering to himself as though replaying Quidditch plays in his dreams.

Sirius peeked out from under his arm. “Oi, Prongs.”

A muffled groan came from the other bed. “What?”

“You awake?”

“No,” James mumbled into his pillow.

“Good,” Sirius said with a grin. “Means you can’t stop me bothering you.”

James groaned again and sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Pads, it’s the middle of the night. If you’ve got some brilliant prank idea, save it for the morning.”

“Not a prank,” Sirius said, rolling onto his side. His hair stuck up in every direction, wild even by candlelight. He leaned toward James, lowering his voice. “Remember our experiment?”

James squinted at him through the dark. “What experiment?”

“You know.” Sirius smirked. “The kissing one.”

For a moment, James just stared. Then he shoved his glasses higher on his nose. “You’re serious.”

“Always,” Sirius said smugly.

James groaned into his hands. “Merlin’s left sock. You don’t let things go, do you?”

“Nope.” Sirius kicked his bedframe with a bare foot. “Come on. It’s perfect. Storm outside, everyone asleep. No one’ll know.”

James peeked through his fingers, face pink. “You make it sound like we’re about to rob Gringotts.”

“Less dangerous,” Sirius said lightly. “Unless you bite.”

James gave a strangled laugh. “Pads—”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Sirius teased, voice sing-song.

“I’m not scared!” James whispered back hotly. “I just—well—what if it’s weird?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It will be weird. That’s the point. We’re testing it. For science.”

James groaned again, dragging his blanket over his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Sirius said, grinning. “But you’re thinking about it.”

Silence stretched, filled only by rain against the windows. Then James poked his head back out, hair sticking up worse than Sirius’s. His expression was wary, but curious.

“…Fine. Just once,” he muttered. “For science.”

Sirius’s grin widened, though his chest tightened. “Deal.”

The First Attempt

They climbed quietly from their beds, padding across the rug in sock feet. The moonlight spilled silver across the room, throwing sharp shadows on the floor. The storm growled in the distance, but inside it was hushed, their breaths loud in their own ears.

They stopped in the middle of the dormitory, suddenly awkward.

“Well?” Sirius said after a moment, folding his arms to hide the tremor in his hands. “We’re not standing here all night.”

James huffed out a laugh. “Bossy.”

He stepped closer, close enough that Sirius could see the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks. Sirius felt a strange swoop in his stomach, but shoved it down. This was just an experiment.

James swallowed. “Quick, then. Before I lose my nerve.”

“Obviously,” Sirius said, though his throat was dry.

They leaned in. Or rather—James leaned in too quickly, Sirius tilted at the wrong angle, and their foreheads bumped with a dull thunk.

“Sorry,” James muttered, rubbing his head.

Sirius scowled. “You’re hopeless.”

“Shut up,” James hissed.

They tried again. This time, their noses almost collided, and James nearly laughed, but then—finally—their lips brushed.

It was brief, awkward, more like an accidental bump than anything deliberate. James’s lips were warm, Sirius’s too stiff. They pulled apart instantly, blinking like they’d been caught.

“That was—” James started, then broke into a nervous chuckle.

“Awkward,” Sirius finished, smirking though his ears burned.

“Yeah,” James agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. “But… not bad.”

Sirius raised a brow. “Not bad? That’s your scientific conclusion?”

James grinned crookedly. “Well, you didn’t bite me.”

Sirius shoved him lightly in the chest. “Git.”

The Second Attempt

There was a pause. Sirius could have let it drop. They could have laughed, crept back into bed, and never spoken of it again. But the air between them was charged now, humming with something neither could name.

James cleared his throat. “Maybe we should—er—try again. Just to be thorough. Science, right?”

Sirius smirked, though his pulse was racing. “For accuracy’s sake.”

This time, they leaned in slower. Careful. Sirius tilted his head just enough, James mirrored. Their lips met again—soft, tentative, but less clumsy. Sirius shut his eyes and noticed things he hadn’t before: the faint hitch of James’s breath, the warmth of skin against skin, the surprising steadiness of it.

It lasted longer. A few seconds. Long enough for Sirius’s heart to hammer, for James’s hand to twitch like he wasn’t sure where to put it.

When they pulled back, both were red-faced.

“Well?” Sirius asked, voice rougher than he meant.

James adjusted his glasses, flustered but smiling. “Better. Still weird. But… better.”

Sirius smirked, masking nerves. “Obviously. I’m brilliant at everything.”

James snorted. “Including kissing? Please.”

“Jealous?” Sirius teased.

James laughed, soft but genuine.

Aftermath

They crept back into their beds, pulling the curtains half-shut. But sleep didn’t come right away. Sirius lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, lips still tingling faintly. His chest felt both light and heavy.

He hadn’t expected much. A joke, a dare, a quick brush. But now the thought wouldn’t leave him. James’s face so close, the awkward bump of noses, the surprising sweetness of the second try.

Across the room, James shifted. “Pads?” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Sirius answered immediately.

“Don’t… don’t tell anyone, alright?”

Sirius scoffed. “What kind of idiot do you take me for? Course I won’t.”

“Good,” James said softly. “Not because I’m ashamed. Just… don’t want people making it a big thing, you know?”

Sirius thought of his family, of cold voices and cruel words, of everything he’d been taught to hate. He understood too well. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.”

Silence again. The storm was fading now, the rain lighter, the thunder distant.

“Pads?” James whispered once more.

“What?”

James hesitated. “Thanks. For… not making it weird.”

Sirius smiled in the dark, small and genuine. “Anytime, Prongs.”

And for the first time in weeks, sleep came easily.

The Days After

The next morning, nothing seemed different. They bickered over toast, argued about Quidditch strategy, teased Peter for losing his socks again.

But there were small things. James’s glance lingering a fraction longer. Sirius’s smirk hiding nerves. An unspoken we know something they don’t.

In Charms, James elbowed Sirius when he caught him staring at the Slytherin table. “You’ve got to stop analyzing people like they’re part of your research project,” he whispered.

Sirius smirked. “Hypothesis: most of them are boring.”

James rolled his eyes. “Except when they’re not?”

Sirius ignored the question, grinning to himself.

That night, James muttered across the dark, “Pads?”

“Mm?” Sirius mumbled, half-asleep.

“Just… so you know. If we never do that again, I’m fine with it. But if we do—” He hesitated. “That’s fine too.”

Sirius’s eyes opened. He stared at the ceiling, pulse quickening. “Noted,” he said softly.

And it was.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t until they were fifteen that they realized they were gay. Or at least, that’s what they told each other. Of course, there had been subtle signs along the way; they’d both always found themselves drawn to the pretty boys in their dormitory, and they’d even snuck peeks at the pornographic magazines they found hidden away in the fifth-year dorms.

But the realization had come to them at last, and it had been like a dam breaking. They’d gone through the shock and the panic of accepting something about themselves that they weren’t sure was normal, and then they’d come out the other side and found a new world of possibilities opening up for them.

And now they were in a dark corner of the library, and James was practically vibrating with nervous energy. He couldn’t believe they were doing this; they’d been talking about it for ages, and it felt like a dream to actually be here.

Sirius was pale and tense, his black hair hanging in his face, his light grey eyes shadowed. He’d always been a bit of a loner, and James knew this was a huge deal for him. But he also knew that Sirius was just as curious as he was; they’d talked about it enough times.

James swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sirius nodded, his eyes fixed on James’s. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady. “Are you?”

James nodded back, his heart pounding in his chest. He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath, and then he reached out and grabbed James’s hand. James felt a jolt of electricity run through him at the contact, and he squeezed Sirius’s hand tightly.

“Okay,” Sirius said again, his voice trembling slightly. “We can do this.”

James nodded, and then he leaned in close, his heart hammering in his chest. Sirius’s breath was warm against his face, and James could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He closed his eyes, his lips parted, and then he pressed his mouth to Sirius’s.

The kiss was soft and hesitant, both of them unsure of what they were doing. But as they moved their lips against each other, James felt a surge of heat run through him, and he pressed closer to Sirius, deepening the kiss.

Sirius made a soft sound in the back of his throat, and James felt his tongue dart out, tentatively touching James’s lips. James opened his mouth, allowing Sirius to explore, and then he felt Sirius’s tongue slide against his own.

The sensation was strange but not unpleasant, and James found himself responding, his tongue moving against Sirius’s. The kiss was clumsy and awkward, but it was also exhilarating, and James felt a rush of excitement run through him.

As they kissed, James reached up and tangled his fingers in Sirius’s hair, pulling him closer. Sirius made another soft sound, and James felt his hands slide up his back, pulling him tight against his body.

James could feel Sirius’s erection pressing against his hip, and he felt a surge of arousal run through him. He pushed his hips forward, grinding against Sirius, and Sirius moaned into his mouth.

The sound sent a jolt of heat through James, and he broke the kiss, panting heavily. Sirius’s eyes were glazed with lust, and James could see the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers.

“Fuck,” James breathed, his voice shaking with desire. “That was—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because Sirius pulled him back into another kiss, his tongue plunging into James’s mouth. James moaned, his hands sliding down to grip Sirius’s arse, pulling him closer.

They kissed for what felt like hours, their tongues moving against each other, their bodies pressed tightly together. James could feel his erection straining against his trousers, and he knew he had to touch Sirius.

He broke the kiss again, panting heavily, and reached down to unbutton Sirius’s trousers. Sirius moaned, his eyes glazed with lust, and James pushed his hand inside, wrapping his fingers around Sirius’s hard cock.

Sirius gasped, his hips jerking forward, and James stroked him slowly, his thumb sliding over the sensitive head. Sirius was hot and heavy in his hand, and James felt a surge of lust run through him.

“James,” Sirius breathed, his voice shaky with desire. “Fuck, that feels good.”

James smiled, his eyes locked on Sirius’s. “You like that?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

Sirius nodded, his hips jerking forward again. “Yes,” he said breathlessly. “Don’t stop.”

James chuckled softly and continued to stroke Sirius, his thumb sliding over the head of his cock. Sirius moaned, his head falling back, and James leaned forward, pressing his lips to Sirius’s neck.

He kissed and licked at the sensitive skin, feeling Sirius shudder beneath him. Sirius’s hands were tangled in James’s hair, holding him close, and James could feel his hips jerking forward with every stroke of his hand.

“You’re so hard,” James murmured against Sirius’s skin. “I want to feel you inside me.”

Sirius gasped, his cock twitching in James’s hand. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I want that too.”

James smiled against his skin and then pulled back, his eyes locked on Sirius. “not this time though, do you want to jerk each other off this time?” he asked, his voice trembling with desire.

Sirius nodded, his eyes dark with lust.

“Yeah,” he said. “I want to touch you too.”

James felt a jolt of arousal run through him, and he nodded, reaching down to unbutton his own trousers. He pushed them down, his cock springing free, and Sirius reached out, wrapping his fingers around it.

James moaned, his hips jerking forward. Sirius’s hand was warm and firm, and he stroked James slowly, his thumb sliding over the tip of his cock.

“You’re so big,” Sirius murmured, his eyes fixed on James. “I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

James shuddered, his cock twitching in Sirius’s hand. “Me neither,” he said. “But right now, I just want to feel your hand on me.”

Sirius smiled, a flush rising on his cheeks. “Like this?” he asked, stroking James slowly.

James nodded, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Just like that.”

He reached out, wrapping his hand around Sirius’s cock again, and began to stroke him in time with Sirius’s movements. They stood there for a long moment, stroking each other, their eyes locked together.

James could feel the tension building inside him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He stroked Sirius faster, his thumb sliding over the head, and Sirius moaned, his hips jerking.

“James,” he breathed, his eyes wide. “I’m close. I’m going to—”

He cut himself off with a cry, his cock pulsing in James’s hand as he came. James felt a surge of satisfaction run through him as he watched Sirius’s face contort with pleasure, and he continued to stroke him through his orgasm.

As Sirius came down from his high, James felt his own climax building. He reached down, wrapping his hand around his cock, and began to stroke himself.

Sirius watched him, his eyes glazed with pleasure. “Come for me,” he murmured, his voice husky. “I want to see you come.”

James moaned, his hand moving faster over his cock. “Sirius,” he breathed, his eyes locked on the other boy. “Fuck, I’m close.”

Sirius reached out, wrapping his hand around James’s, and together they stroked his cock. James felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, and he cried out, his cock pulsing in their hands as he came.

As the last of his orgasm faded away, James felt himself relax, a sense of contentment washing over him. He looked at Sirius, smiling softly.

“That was amazing,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

Sirius nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Definitely,” he agreed. “We should do it again sometime.”

James laughed, feeling happy and carefree. “Oh, we will,” he said. “Believe me, we will.”

They stood there for another moment, catching their breath and grinning at each other like idiots. And then Sirius reached out, pulling James into a tight hug.

“I’m glad we did this,” he murmured into James’s ear.

James nodded, hugging him back. “Me too,” he said. And as they stood there in each other’s arms, he knew that this was just the beginning of something amazing.

Chapter Text

The dormitory was quiet, almost unnervingly so. The fire in Regulus’s small common room had burned down to embers, the only light a dim orange glow licking at the stone hearth. Sirius was on his feet, pacing. Back and forth, back and forth, the way he always did when his thoughts had become too sharp to contain. His boots scuffed the rug with each turn, the sound grating in the silence.

Regulus, curled against his pillows with a book in his lap, had been pretending to read for nearly an hour. He hadn’t turned a page in at least ten minutes. His dark eyes followed Sirius with the air of someone who’d been here before—too many times, in fact. He sighed and finally shut the book with a quiet thump.

“You’re going to wear the rug down to threads, you know,” he drawled. “And it’s a decent rug. Not that you care.”

Sirius shot him a glare. “Better the rug than my bloody skull. I can’t keep it in there anymore.”

Regulus tilted his head, voice maddeningly calm. “Then don’t. Tell him.”

Sirius froze mid-pace. “Tell him? Tell James?” His laugh was harsh, brittle. “Brilliant idea. Just brilliant. I’ll march right up and say, ‘Hi, Prongs, you know how we’ve been mates forever and everything’s great? Well, surprise, I’m in love with you. Want to snog?’ That’ll go over perfectly.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Regulus said, though his lips curved faintly. “Well. More dramatic than usual.”

“I am not—” Sirius stopped himself, groaning as he dropped onto the edge of the bed. He raked both hands through his hair, tugging until it stood on end. “I can’t do it, Reg. I’ll ruin everything.”

Regulus leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or you’ll ruin yourself by keeping it bottled. I’ve watched you stew in this for weeks. You’re unbearable.”

“Thanks, brother dearest. Always knew I could count on you for support.”

“I am supporting you,” Regulus said smoothly. “By telling you the truth. You’re going mad, Sirius. And if you keep skirting around it, you’ll drive James mad too.”

Sirius flopped backward onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as if it might provide answers. I want to tell him. I want to so badly it’s like fire in my throat. But what if—what if he looks at me differently? What if it ruins everything we are?

Regulus’s voice cut through his spiraling thoughts, quieter now, almost kind. “You’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of losing him.”

Sirius turned his head sharply, meeting his brother’s steady gaze. He hated when Regulus said things like that—because it was true. Every bloody word of it. His chest ached, heavy and restless, as though his ribs were too small to contain everything he was feeling.

“Fine,” Sirius muttered. “I’ll do it.”

Regulus raised a brow. “Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Sirius sat up abruptly, heart hammering like a drum. “Before I lose my nerve.”

Regulus gave a faint shrug, though his eyes softened. “Go, then. Before you pace a hole clean through my floor.”

The corridors of Hogwarts felt cavernous in the late hour, shadows stretching long and tall across the flagstones. Sirius’s boots echoed as he walked, each step heavy with dread. He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to ground himself. This is fine. Just James. My James. My stupid, brilliant, perfect James. All I’ve got to do is open my mouth. Easy. Bloody easy.

But every corner he turned made his stomach twist tighter. He pictured James’s face if he said it—wide-eyed, shocked, maybe even horrified. The thought nearly sent him running back to Regulus’s room. But he kept going, because not saying it was worse.

When he reached the Gryffindor common room, the fire was still burning low. And there he was. James. Lounging in one of the big armchairs, wand in hand, glasses sliding down his nose, looking as if the weight of the world could never touch him. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it, his Quidditch jersey loose around his shoulders.

Sirius stopped dead. His heart clenched so hard it hurt. Bloody hell. How am I supposed to say this to that face? To those eyes?

James looked up, and his whole expression lit. “Oi, Pads,” he said lazily, grinning. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Sirius forced his legs to move, flopping onto the couch across from him. “Something like that.”

James studied him with a sharp, amused look. “You’ve got that face.”

“What face?” Sirius asked, a little too quick.

“The one that says you’ve either done something clever or catastrophically stupid. Which is it?”

Sirius barked out a laugh that sounded almost real. “Bit of both, maybe.”

This was it. This was the moment. He had to say it. He had to—

“You ever…” Sirius’s throat went dry. He tried again. “You ever think about us?”

James tilted his head. “Us?”

“Yeah.” Sirius waved a hand, desperate to seem casual. “I mean—we’ve been best mates forever, haven’t we? Practically married, the lot of them say. Always together. That sort of thing.”

James laughed. “Too right. People probably think we share a brain at this point.”

Sirius pressed on, heart hammering. “Right, but—don’t you ever wonder if there’s… more?”

James frowned. “More? Like—what, starting a band after school? Or taking the piss out of Filch professionally? I can’t see you on bass, Pads.”

Sirius groaned, dragging his hands down his face. Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.

James leaned forward, grinning. “What’s this about, mate? You’re acting like you swallowed a Snitch.”

Sirius forced a smirk, but his insides were a storm. Say it. Say you’re in love with him. Say you can’t stand another night without him knowing. Say something, you coward.

He opened his mouth—and panicked. “It’s Regulus,” he blurted instead.

James blinked. “Regulus?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said quickly. “We’ve been… talking. About family. About how I left him behind. I just—needed to get it off my chest.”

James’s expression softened instantly. “Pads…” He reached across the gap, squeezing Sirius’s arm. “That’s good. Really good. I’m proud of you. You’ve carried that for years.”

Sirius’s throat tightened. He wanted to scream. Not what I meant. Not what I meant at all.

But he smiled weakly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

James wasn’t letting it go. Of course he wasn’t. He never could when Sirius got cagey. “Come on, Pads. There’s more. I can tell. You’ve got that twitch in your eye.”

Sirius laughed hollowly. “What twitch?”

“That one.” James jabbed a finger at him. “The one you get when you’re about to bolt.”

“I’m not about to bolt,” Sirius said, shifting uncomfortably. “Maybe I just need a smoke.”

“Liar,” James said cheerfully. “Out with it. What’s really rattling around that head of yours?”

You. Always you. Only you.

Sirius swallowed hard. “It’s nothing, Prongs. Honest.”

“Bollocks,” James said. He leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you slither off this time. Spit it out.”

Sirius tried deflection after deflection. Quidditch. Exams. Even Filch’s cat. James countered every time, laughing, needling, pressing closer to the truth Sirius couldn’t give. The longer it went on, the more Sirius’s chest burned, until he felt raw, exposed.

Finally, James sighed, leaning closer again. “Look, whatever it is—you know you can tell me, right? There’s nothing you could say that’d make me leg it. We’re brothers, Pads.”

That word—brothers—landed like a stone in Sirius’s gut. He forced a grin. “Yeah. Brothers.”

They drifted into safer topics after that—Quidditch practice, a prank idea, a joke about Peter’s snoring. James was as warm and effortless as ever, throwing an arm around Sirius’s shoulders when he laughed too hard. Sirius let himself sink into it, even though it was agony. He leaned into James’s warmth, aching with everything unsaid.

Later, when they trudged upstairs, James clapped him on the back. “You’re alright, Pads.”

“Course I am,” Sirius said, voice steady, though his chest felt hollow.

But when James’s snores filled the room, Sirius lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He had tried. And failed. And yet, a small part of him felt lighter—because at least he’d spoken something aloud, even if it wasn’t the truth he wanted to say.

By dawn, Sirius had slunk back down to Regulus’s dorm. His brother was awake, reading again, when Sirius collapsed face-first onto the bed.

“Well?” Regulus asked without looking up.

Sirius groaned into the pillow. “I botched it.”

“Of course you did,” Regulus said dryly. He marked his place and shut the book. “But you tried.”

Sirius rolled over, hair a mess, eyes heavy. “Doesn’t count if he didn’t get it.”

“It counts,” Regulus said simply. “You cracked the door. That’s how it starts.”

Sirius stared at the ceiling again, chest tight but oddly relieved. One step at a time. Maybe someday he’d manage to say the words properly. Until then, he wasn’t completely alone in carrying them.