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hp fic: As Lovers Go
Title: As Lovers Go
Pairing: James/Sirius, Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Words: ~3,200
Summary: He ran his hand up James' back, brushing his thumb over the mole just under James' shoulder blade, then curled his fingers into James' hair, watching as the messy strands slipped over his knuckles.
Author's Notes: Written for![[personal profile]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=88)
dysfuncentine 2013, and prompt #115 - James/Sirius; their casual, friends-with-benefits arrangement ends when Lily finally agrees to go out with James. Originally posted here.
As Lovers Go
He found James lurking in the snowy stretch of shadows along the far side of Greenhouse Five, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his back against the foggy glass. An empty Mandrake pot was overturned in front of him, and a small fire was burning just above the flat bottom of it, nearly two feet tall and crackling like something that belonged in a hearth. He looked over as Sirius' feet crunched on the slushy walk, frowning around the fag drooping from the corner of his mouth.
"Took you long enough."
"Here, you weren't where I thought you'd be," Sirius said. He fished a crumpled box of fags from his rucksack and lit one with the tip of his wand. "I checked the courtyard first."
"Too cold for that shit," James said, glancing up at the sky. It was the colour of the cheap, not-quite-pewter cauldrons sold in Knockturn Alley, and the clouds seemed low, pressing down on the peaked roof of the greenhouse. "You know how McGonagall gets when I do fires in public."
"Can't blame her, really. Not after the Thestral stables."
"Sod you. That was second year," James muttered, pinching Sirius' side. "Where'd you run off to after Charms, anyway?"
"I went up to see Moony again."
James nodded and took a long pull from his fag. "How's he look, then?"
"Like something the kneazle dragged in." Sirius settled against the greenhouse wall beside James, huddling close to James' shoulder as a burst of wind whipped past. "We need to get that thing sorted. He'll be uglier than old Moody if we take much longer."
James snorted quietly, blowing twin trails of smoke through his nose like a dragon. "We're almost there. Peter gave it a go last night, when you were at detention. He nearly managed it."
"Oh?" Sirius asked, nudging James with his elbow. "What do you think he'll be, then?"
"A rabbit, maybe. His nose was twitching."
Sirius barked out a short laugh. "A rabbit. He'd like that, I think. Had one for a pet once, didn't he?"
"Yeah, before school." James flicked his spent fag into a muddy puddle of slush just off the walk, watching as it winked out with a hiss. "He couldn't bring it, so his mother let it out the back garden. Hopped away, I guess."
Sirius laughed again, puffing smoke up toward the dark, heavy sky. It would be snowing in another hour, just in time for Quidditch practise.
"Well, I'm off," James said suddenly, smiling as he pushed his hand through his hair. "I want to catch Evans before Transfiguration."
"You didn't ask her yet?"
"I meant to after Charms, but she had McKinnon with her."
"Right," Sirius said, shaking his head. Evans was madder than a jarvey and hated James besides, and Augureys would fly out of Sirius' arse before she went to Hogsmeade with James, but Sirius wasn't going to waste his breath pointing that out again. "Good luck, mate. Maybe this time she won't hit you with a Langlock before you even open your mouth."
"Berk."
"Tosspot."
"Wanker," James said, curling his hand in Sirius' sleeve. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Sirius' jaw, then headed down the walk toward the castle, his hair sticking out in all directions and his robe flapping around his legs as it twisted in the wind.
+
Halfway through his History of Magic essay -- sixteen inches on Gringott's labour practises, standard margins and footnotes encouraged -- Sirius looked up and discovered the dormitory was empty except for James, who was sprawled out on the floor in an old shirt and a grotty pair of pants, eating Sugar Quills and flipping through a Quidditch quarterly like it was boring him to tears.
"Oi, Prongs," he said, tossing a ball of scrap parchment at James' head. "Where'd Moony get to?"
"Prefect meeting, I think," James said, shrugging one shoulder. "I rather wasn't listening when he left. Why?"
Sirius frowned at his History of Magic book; he hadn't opened it all term and he wasn't about to do it now. "I wanted to ask him about the Rebellion of 1845, is all. I nodded off during that bit."
"Who cares, really?"
"Binns might."
"Binns is dead," James pointed out, pushing the quarterly away as he got to his feet. He climbed onto the edge of Sirius' bed, then pulled off his shirt and walked toward Sirius on his knees, the mattress creaking and sighing under his weight. His pants were too tight and washed down to the threads, the waistband worn out and dipping past the line of dark hair arrowing away from his navel, and he laughed softly as Sirius brushed his schoolwork to the floor, as he threw his leg over Sirius' thighs and slid into Sirius' lap.
Sirius ran his hand over the curve of James' shoulder, his thumb tracing the line of James' throat. "Where's Peter?"
"Gobstones, maybe." James leaned down, kissing Sirius long and slow, his fingers curled in Sirius' shirt and his cock half-hard against Sirius' hip. "I wasn't listening when he left, either."
"Arse," Sirius said, closing the bed hangings with a lazy wave of his wand. "Come here."
+
Sirius flew the hundred miles to Wiltshire on his broom, his hands white-knuckled on the handle and his trunk bobbing placidly behind him, the only underaged magic he'd been brave enough to use. The weather was dreadful, a heavy and sudden summer shower that pissed down from a clear sky and left the air sticky and thicker than what passed for soup at the Leaky Cauldron, but Sirius was shivering by the time he finally reached the Potter's, his hair dripping into his face and his clothes soaked through to his skin.
"Fuck," he muttered, stacking his trunk and broom in a dry corner of the porch before he knocked. He chewed at his lip as he waited, his wet clothes making a puddle on the mat as he rubbed the bruise on his cheek with a shaky hand.
The door opened with a soft sigh. "Sirius? Are you -- shit, what happened to you?" James asked, pulling Sirius inside by his arm. He looked Sirius up and down for a moment, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, then carefully ran his fingers over Sirius' cheek. "She tossed you out, then?"
"No, I -- no." Sirius sighed, frowning down at his muddy shoes. He was still shivering, even though the house was warm and a fire was burning in the hearth. "I left."
"How did you -- oh, balls. Did you fly here?"
Sirius shrugged. "Not much choice, really. She closed the Floo. I can't Apparate, and I didn't have enough for the Knight Bus."
"You'll stay here, of course," Mrs Potter said, tying the belt on a fuzzy blue dressing gown. Her greying hair was swept into a hasty bun and it bobbed crookedly as she came down the stairs.
"Thank you, Mrs Potter, but I don't -- "
She waved him off with a huff. "Nonsense. They're my spare bedrooms, and I'll lend them out as I please. Goodness, but you're all over water, aren't you?" she said, pulling her wand from the boxy pocket of her dressing gown. "Tergeo! Now, let's have a look at your face." She caught the point of his chin between her finger and thumb, turning his cheek toward the light, then huffed again and nudged James' shoulder. "Go on into the kitchen and make Sirius a cup of tea."
"Yes, mum."
"Useless lad," she said fondly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "Did she get you anywhere else?"
"No, Mrs Potter."
"If you don't call me Muriel, we're not going to get on," she chided, raising her wand again. "Hold steady, now. Episkey!"
Sirius' cheek twitched, stinging slightly as the swelling went down. "Thank you."
"I told James you were always welcome, about this time last year," she said, wrapping her arm around Sirius' shoulder. "He didn't think you'd want to leave your sister -- it is a sister, isn't it?"
"Brother," Sirius said, his chest aching at the thought of Regulus, wide-eyed and pale as Sirius escaped Grimmauld Place through an attic window.
"Well, he's welcome as well, if he ever decides he's has enough. Merlin knows we have the space." She smiled again and patted Sirius' healed cheek. "We'd best go check on James, before he manages to burn the water."
+
It wasn't quite dawn, the sky still colourless and mostly dark, but Sirius was awake, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the wind push through the tree outside his window. He shifted as best he could, trying to get his blood moving back into the dead spot just above his right knee. James was sprawled on top of him, his hand half inside Sirius' pants and his head on Sirius' shoulder, his mouth open as he snored quietly into the hollow of Sirius' throat; he made a soft, unhappy noise as the bed dipped and creaked, and Sirius settled with a sigh.
He ran his hand up James' back, brushing his thumb over the mole just under James' shoulder blade, then curled his fingers into James' hair, watching as the messy strands slipped over his knuckles. James made another noise, this one still bleary but slightly more content, and Sirius slid his hand down to the back of James' neck, stroking his thumb over the skin just below James' ear. He looked younger without his glasses, odd in a way that felt almost unfamiliar, and the crooked slant of his nose was more obvious, the tiny bump from when he broke it in a Quidditch match their fourth year.
Their Hogwarts letters had arrived at breakfast, and James' red and gold Head Boy badge had been an uncomfortable surprise. McGonagall's note hadn't mentioned the Head Girl by name, but Sirius would bet all the money he no longer had that it was Evans.
"You up?" James asked thickly, his lips moving against Sirius' collarbone, his hand inching further into Sirius' pants.
"Not really," Sirius said, stretching his numb leg as James burrowed closer. "Go back to sleep."
+
"She said yes!" James shouted, before he was even all the way through the door, his cheeks flushed pink and his glasses slipping down his nose. "We're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday. For Puddifoots, and that."
Remus didn't say anything, but Peter darted a cautious, sideways glance at Sirius that made Sirius want to punch him in the face.
"Well done, mate," he said, his voice steady once he cleared his throat.
+
Sirius woke to the bed dipping as a sudden weight settled against his chest.
"What the -- James?"
"Padfoot," he murmured, his hand creeping under Sirius' shirt. He must have taken Evans to the Shrieking Shack on their date, and shown her the liquor stash below the floorboards in what passed for the sitting room; he smelled strongly of Firewhisky and cigarette smoke, and a little like Evans' perfume. He slid his hand up Sirius' chest, humming as he stroked his fingers over Sirius' nipple. "Padfoot."
Sirius sighed past the heat curling beneath his skin. "Go to bed."
"I've missed you."
"Prongs." Sirius knotted his hand in James' hair, tugging just this side of too hard. "Fucking go to bed."
James kissed him, his mouth booze-stale and clumsy, his teeth catching the well of Sirius' lip, his free hand fumbling with the string on Sirius' pyjamas. Sirius shoved at James' shoulder, his fingers twisting into the collar of James' shirt, but James just pressed closer, dragging his mouth down Sirius' jaw and nudging his bent knee between Sirius' legs. Sirius caught James around the waist, rolling them until James was underneath him, sitting up just enough to thumb the button on James' trousers; he was hard despite the anger burning sourly in the back of his throat, and he choked down a moan as James reached out and brushed his knuckles over the line of his cock.
"What is it, then?" Sirius snapped, yanking James' trousers and pants down to his knees. "Evans not putting out yet?"
"It's not -- Evans isn't -- I've missed you."
"Shut it. Just shut your fucking mouth," Sirius said, ducking down to bite the soft skin on the inside of James' thigh.
+
"Didn't you once say you have a place?" James asked, leaning his elbows on the rail as he puffed smoke up toward the bright, cloudless sky.
They were on the tiny balcony off the choir room on the third floor, hunched together in a space really meant for one. It was a scorchingly hot day, the air sharp and listless at once; Sirius had sweat beading on his upper lip and prickling at the back of his neck.
"What? Oh, yeah," Sirius said, shrugging as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Alphard left me a flat in -- fuck, I don't remember. Bethnal Green, I think. I've never seen it. Why?"
James was silent for a few moments, frowning down at the courtyard and drumming his fingers on the rail. Sirius had a fair idea of what was coming, since he'd noticed Evans looking at the Prophet adverts several breakfasts in a row, but he wasn't about to let James off easy.
"Well," James said finally, lighting a new fag with the spent end of the first so he didn't have to look Sirius in the eye. "School's out at the end of the week, and Lily -- she wants us to get a flat, just the two of us. Only, I wanted to make sure you'd be, you know." He nudged Sirius with his elbow, the balcony groaning as he shifted his feet. "You could stay with my parents another year or two. They wouldn't mind."
"Oh." It hurt differently than Sirius expected, dull and slow instead of hard and sharp and stabbing. "No, I'll be all right." His fag was crawling with ash and nearly spent; he took a short, final pull and flicked it over the rail. "I'll be all right."
+
"Well?" Sirius asked, stepping out of the way as the door creaked open. "What do you think?"
"It's lovely," Remus said.
Sirius snorted. The flat was shit, peeling wallpaper and balding carpet and kitchen lino that curled up at the corners, but it had solid walls and a roof that didn't leak, and Sirius had a brand new mattress that he'd Engorgio'ed until it took up most of the bedroom. "You would say that. You were sleeping at the dude station."
"Tube station, and it was just those two nights," Remus insisted, shaking his head. He was still standing in the doorway uncertainly, and he dug his heels in when Sirius tugged on his sleeve. "Look, Padfoot, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I've got a job coming through next week, and -- "
"It's not like you'll be costing me anything," Sirius said, squeezing Remus' arm. "The rent's paid through 1984."
Remus frowned for a moment, then deflated with a quiet sigh. "All right, all right."
+
He'd never thought about kissing Remus until he was already doing it, leaning across the greasy cartons of curry on the couch between them, his hand curling into Remus' hair as Remus' Muggle telly flashed and mumbled in the background. He kissed differently than James, more tongue and less teeth and an slightly unfamiliar tilt to his head, but he hooked his fingers in the collar of Sirius' shirt, and he made a soft, encouraging noise in the back of his throat when Sirius sucked on his lower lip.
"This," he said, pulling away slowly, his brown eyes narrowed, his mouth flushed and red and wet, "this is a horrifically stupid idea."
"Yeah," Sirius admitted, leaning in again. "It really is."
+
It took Remus nine days to give up sleeping on the couch, until his clothes were mixed with Sirius' on the floor and his boots were pushed under the bed instead of waiting beside the front door.
Sirius didn't know what to think about it, so he didn't think anything at all.
+
"Have you told him?" Peter asked, when James was at the bar and Remus was in the bog, leaning across the table and pitching his voice low, a bare buzz over the murmur of the crowd at The Apothecary, the only Wizarding local in Bethnal Green.
"Told who what?"
"James," Peter said slowly, his nose twitching. "That you are Moony are -- you know."
Sirius frowned at his beer, picking at the wrinkled, peeling label with his thumbnail. "He wouldn't care."
"No." Peter shook his head, then shrugged and poked at the roasted pumpkin seeds scattered on his napkin. "Probably not."
+
"James," Sirius said, when James nudged him back against the wall, his fingers digging into Sirius' shoulders and his teeth sharp against the skin just below Sirius' ear. "We shouldn't do this."
"I know," James said, but he tugged on Sirius' flies, and then his hand was wrapping around Sirius' cock, his thumb rubbing over the head just the way Sirius remembered. Sirius moaned in the back of his throat, his head tipping back and his hips twitching away from the wall. James leaned into him, making a low noise into Sirius' hair, pressing his cock against Sirius' hip as he slid his open mouth down the line of Sirius' jaw.
"Prongs, we're -- we can't."
James pushed his free hand under Sirius' shirt, his fingernails biting into Sirius' skin. "I just, I -- I'm getting married in a week."
"I know," Sirius snapped, thinking of the red dress robes hanging in his closet, the set Evans had picked out herself, smiling as she told Madam Malkin how she wanted the collar and cuffs. "I fucking know, all right?"
"I love her," James said, his voice thin and tight, almost sad. "I love her so fucking much, but you -- shit. You're just." He kissed Sirius, too hard and too fast, his hand shaking as it curved over Sirius' cheek. "Just, let me. Just -- one more time, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sirius mumbled, even though they were in the tiny, Diagon Alley flat James shared with Evans, in the hallway Evans painted over a weekend with McKinnon and MacDonald, on the carpet she'd Transfigured from brown to blue. James kissed Sirius' again, his tongue curling slick against Sirius' as he shoved Sirius' jeans out of the way, and then he slid to his knees, making a soft noise as he sucked Sirius' cock into his mouth.
"I've missed you," James said once, when Sirius was teetering on the edge, the heat in his gut coiled tight enough to snap, dragging a wet kiss up the length of Sirius' cock, swirling his tongue around the head before drawing it back in.
Sirius came staring at a framed picture of a day trip to the Bristol seaside, his breath catching and his thighs shaking as Peter dunked Remus under the water and Evans winked and smiled from under a naff straw hat that tied beneath her chin with a bow that matched her bathing costume.
+
Sirius Apparated directly into his flat, his shirt untucked and a bruise blooming at the hollow of his throat, a dull ache flaring under his ribs when he found Remus waiting on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin and the Muggle telly washing his face in shrill shades of blue and green.
"Moony."
"Goodnight, Sirius," Remus said, rolling over with a quiet sigh.
Pairing: James/Sirius, Remus/Sirius
Rating: R
Words: ~3,200
Summary: He ran his hand up James' back, brushing his thumb over the mole just under James' shoulder blade, then curled his fingers into James' hair, watching as the messy strands slipped over his knuckles.
Author's Notes: Written for
dysfuncentine 2013, and prompt #115 - James/Sirius; their casual, friends-with-benefits arrangement ends when Lily finally agrees to go out with James. Originally posted here.He found James lurking in the snowy stretch of shadows along the far side of Greenhouse Five, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his back against the foggy glass. An empty Mandrake pot was overturned in front of him, and a small fire was burning just above the flat bottom of it, nearly two feet tall and crackling like something that belonged in a hearth. He looked over as Sirius' feet crunched on the slushy walk, frowning around the fag drooping from the corner of his mouth.
"Took you long enough."
"Here, you weren't where I thought you'd be," Sirius said. He fished a crumpled box of fags from his rucksack and lit one with the tip of his wand. "I checked the courtyard first."
"Too cold for that shit," James said, glancing up at the sky. It was the colour of the cheap, not-quite-pewter cauldrons sold in Knockturn Alley, and the clouds seemed low, pressing down on the peaked roof of the greenhouse. "You know how McGonagall gets when I do fires in public."
"Can't blame her, really. Not after the Thestral stables."
"Sod you. That was second year," James muttered, pinching Sirius' side. "Where'd you run off to after Charms, anyway?"
"I went up to see Moony again."
James nodded and took a long pull from his fag. "How's he look, then?"
"Like something the kneazle dragged in." Sirius settled against the greenhouse wall beside James, huddling close to James' shoulder as a burst of wind whipped past. "We need to get that thing sorted. He'll be uglier than old Moody if we take much longer."
James snorted quietly, blowing twin trails of smoke through his nose like a dragon. "We're almost there. Peter gave it a go last night, when you were at detention. He nearly managed it."
"Oh?" Sirius asked, nudging James with his elbow. "What do you think he'll be, then?"
"A rabbit, maybe. His nose was twitching."
Sirius barked out a short laugh. "A rabbit. He'd like that, I think. Had one for a pet once, didn't he?"
"Yeah, before school." James flicked his spent fag into a muddy puddle of slush just off the walk, watching as it winked out with a hiss. "He couldn't bring it, so his mother let it out the back garden. Hopped away, I guess."
Sirius laughed again, puffing smoke up toward the dark, heavy sky. It would be snowing in another hour, just in time for Quidditch practise.
"Well, I'm off," James said suddenly, smiling as he pushed his hand through his hair. "I want to catch Evans before Transfiguration."
"You didn't ask her yet?"
"I meant to after Charms, but she had McKinnon with her."
"Right," Sirius said, shaking his head. Evans was madder than a jarvey and hated James besides, and Augureys would fly out of Sirius' arse before she went to Hogsmeade with James, but Sirius wasn't going to waste his breath pointing that out again. "Good luck, mate. Maybe this time she won't hit you with a Langlock before you even open your mouth."
"Berk."
"Tosspot."
"Wanker," James said, curling his hand in Sirius' sleeve. He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Sirius' jaw, then headed down the walk toward the castle, his hair sticking out in all directions and his robe flapping around his legs as it twisted in the wind.
+
Halfway through his History of Magic essay -- sixteen inches on Gringott's labour practises, standard margins and footnotes encouraged -- Sirius looked up and discovered the dormitory was empty except for James, who was sprawled out on the floor in an old shirt and a grotty pair of pants, eating Sugar Quills and flipping through a Quidditch quarterly like it was boring him to tears.
"Oi, Prongs," he said, tossing a ball of scrap parchment at James' head. "Where'd Moony get to?"
"Prefect meeting, I think," James said, shrugging one shoulder. "I rather wasn't listening when he left. Why?"
Sirius frowned at his History of Magic book; he hadn't opened it all term and he wasn't about to do it now. "I wanted to ask him about the Rebellion of 1845, is all. I nodded off during that bit."
"Who cares, really?"
"Binns might."
"Binns is dead," James pointed out, pushing the quarterly away as he got to his feet. He climbed onto the edge of Sirius' bed, then pulled off his shirt and walked toward Sirius on his knees, the mattress creaking and sighing under his weight. His pants were too tight and washed down to the threads, the waistband worn out and dipping past the line of dark hair arrowing away from his navel, and he laughed softly as Sirius brushed his schoolwork to the floor, as he threw his leg over Sirius' thighs and slid into Sirius' lap.
Sirius ran his hand over the curve of James' shoulder, his thumb tracing the line of James' throat. "Where's Peter?"
"Gobstones, maybe." James leaned down, kissing Sirius long and slow, his fingers curled in Sirius' shirt and his cock half-hard against Sirius' hip. "I wasn't listening when he left, either."
"Arse," Sirius said, closing the bed hangings with a lazy wave of his wand. "Come here."
+
Sirius flew the hundred miles to Wiltshire on his broom, his hands white-knuckled on the handle and his trunk bobbing placidly behind him, the only underaged magic he'd been brave enough to use. The weather was dreadful, a heavy and sudden summer shower that pissed down from a clear sky and left the air sticky and thicker than what passed for soup at the Leaky Cauldron, but Sirius was shivering by the time he finally reached the Potter's, his hair dripping into his face and his clothes soaked through to his skin.
"Fuck," he muttered, stacking his trunk and broom in a dry corner of the porch before he knocked. He chewed at his lip as he waited, his wet clothes making a puddle on the mat as he rubbed the bruise on his cheek with a shaky hand.
The door opened with a soft sigh. "Sirius? Are you -- shit, what happened to you?" James asked, pulling Sirius inside by his arm. He looked Sirius up and down for a moment, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses, then carefully ran his fingers over Sirius' cheek. "She tossed you out, then?"
"No, I -- no." Sirius sighed, frowning down at his muddy shoes. He was still shivering, even though the house was warm and a fire was burning in the hearth. "I left."
"How did you -- oh, balls. Did you fly here?"
Sirius shrugged. "Not much choice, really. She closed the Floo. I can't Apparate, and I didn't have enough for the Knight Bus."
"You'll stay here, of course," Mrs Potter said, tying the belt on a fuzzy blue dressing gown. Her greying hair was swept into a hasty bun and it bobbed crookedly as she came down the stairs.
"Thank you, Mrs Potter, but I don't -- "
She waved him off with a huff. "Nonsense. They're my spare bedrooms, and I'll lend them out as I please. Goodness, but you're all over water, aren't you?" she said, pulling her wand from the boxy pocket of her dressing gown. "Tergeo! Now, let's have a look at your face." She caught the point of his chin between her finger and thumb, turning his cheek toward the light, then huffed again and nudged James' shoulder. "Go on into the kitchen and make Sirius a cup of tea."
"Yes, mum."
"Useless lad," she said fondly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled. "Did she get you anywhere else?"
"No, Mrs Potter."
"If you don't call me Muriel, we're not going to get on," she chided, raising her wand again. "Hold steady, now. Episkey!"
Sirius' cheek twitched, stinging slightly as the swelling went down. "Thank you."
"I told James you were always welcome, about this time last year," she said, wrapping her arm around Sirius' shoulder. "He didn't think you'd want to leave your sister -- it is a sister, isn't it?"
"Brother," Sirius said, his chest aching at the thought of Regulus, wide-eyed and pale as Sirius escaped Grimmauld Place through an attic window.
"Well, he's welcome as well, if he ever decides he's has enough. Merlin knows we have the space." She smiled again and patted Sirius' healed cheek. "We'd best go check on James, before he manages to burn the water."
+
It wasn't quite dawn, the sky still colourless and mostly dark, but Sirius was awake, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the wind push through the tree outside his window. He shifted as best he could, trying to get his blood moving back into the dead spot just above his right knee. James was sprawled on top of him, his hand half inside Sirius' pants and his head on Sirius' shoulder, his mouth open as he snored quietly into the hollow of Sirius' throat; he made a soft, unhappy noise as the bed dipped and creaked, and Sirius settled with a sigh.
He ran his hand up James' back, brushing his thumb over the mole just under James' shoulder blade, then curled his fingers into James' hair, watching as the messy strands slipped over his knuckles. James made another noise, this one still bleary but slightly more content, and Sirius slid his hand down to the back of James' neck, stroking his thumb over the skin just below James' ear. He looked younger without his glasses, odd in a way that felt almost unfamiliar, and the crooked slant of his nose was more obvious, the tiny bump from when he broke it in a Quidditch match their fourth year.
Their Hogwarts letters had arrived at breakfast, and James' red and gold Head Boy badge had been an uncomfortable surprise. McGonagall's note hadn't mentioned the Head Girl by name, but Sirius would bet all the money he no longer had that it was Evans.
"You up?" James asked thickly, his lips moving against Sirius' collarbone, his hand inching further into Sirius' pants.
"Not really," Sirius said, stretching his numb leg as James burrowed closer. "Go back to sleep."
+
"She said yes!" James shouted, before he was even all the way through the door, his cheeks flushed pink and his glasses slipping down his nose. "We're going to Hogsmeade on Saturday. For Puddifoots, and that."
Remus didn't say anything, but Peter darted a cautious, sideways glance at Sirius that made Sirius want to punch him in the face.
"Well done, mate," he said, his voice steady once he cleared his throat.
+
Sirius woke to the bed dipping as a sudden weight settled against his chest.
"What the -- James?"
"Padfoot," he murmured, his hand creeping under Sirius' shirt. He must have taken Evans to the Shrieking Shack on their date, and shown her the liquor stash below the floorboards in what passed for the sitting room; he smelled strongly of Firewhisky and cigarette smoke, and a little like Evans' perfume. He slid his hand up Sirius' chest, humming as he stroked his fingers over Sirius' nipple. "Padfoot."
Sirius sighed past the heat curling beneath his skin. "Go to bed."
"I've missed you."
"Prongs." Sirius knotted his hand in James' hair, tugging just this side of too hard. "Fucking go to bed."
James kissed him, his mouth booze-stale and clumsy, his teeth catching the well of Sirius' lip, his free hand fumbling with the string on Sirius' pyjamas. Sirius shoved at James' shoulder, his fingers twisting into the collar of James' shirt, but James just pressed closer, dragging his mouth down Sirius' jaw and nudging his bent knee between Sirius' legs. Sirius caught James around the waist, rolling them until James was underneath him, sitting up just enough to thumb the button on James' trousers; he was hard despite the anger burning sourly in the back of his throat, and he choked down a moan as James reached out and brushed his knuckles over the line of his cock.
"What is it, then?" Sirius snapped, yanking James' trousers and pants down to his knees. "Evans not putting out yet?"
"It's not -- Evans isn't -- I've missed you."
"Shut it. Just shut your fucking mouth," Sirius said, ducking down to bite the soft skin on the inside of James' thigh.
+
"Didn't you once say you have a place?" James asked, leaning his elbows on the rail as he puffed smoke up toward the bright, cloudless sky.
They were on the tiny balcony off the choir room on the third floor, hunched together in a space really meant for one. It was a scorchingly hot day, the air sharp and listless at once; Sirius had sweat beading on his upper lip and prickling at the back of his neck.
"What? Oh, yeah," Sirius said, shrugging as he took a drag from his cigarette. "Alphard left me a flat in -- fuck, I don't remember. Bethnal Green, I think. I've never seen it. Why?"
James was silent for a few moments, frowning down at the courtyard and drumming his fingers on the rail. Sirius had a fair idea of what was coming, since he'd noticed Evans looking at the Prophet adverts several breakfasts in a row, but he wasn't about to let James off easy.
"Well," James said finally, lighting a new fag with the spent end of the first so he didn't have to look Sirius in the eye. "School's out at the end of the week, and Lily -- she wants us to get a flat, just the two of us. Only, I wanted to make sure you'd be, you know." He nudged Sirius with his elbow, the balcony groaning as he shifted his feet. "You could stay with my parents another year or two. They wouldn't mind."
"Oh." It hurt differently than Sirius expected, dull and slow instead of hard and sharp and stabbing. "No, I'll be all right." His fag was crawling with ash and nearly spent; he took a short, final pull and flicked it over the rail. "I'll be all right."
+
"Well?" Sirius asked, stepping out of the way as the door creaked open. "What do you think?"
"It's lovely," Remus said.
Sirius snorted. The flat was shit, peeling wallpaper and balding carpet and kitchen lino that curled up at the corners, but it had solid walls and a roof that didn't leak, and Sirius had a brand new mattress that he'd Engorgio'ed until it took up most of the bedroom. "You would say that. You were sleeping at the dude station."
"Tube station, and it was just those two nights," Remus insisted, shaking his head. He was still standing in the doorway uncertainly, and he dug his heels in when Sirius tugged on his sleeve. "Look, Padfoot, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I've got a job coming through next week, and -- "
"It's not like you'll be costing me anything," Sirius said, squeezing Remus' arm. "The rent's paid through 1984."
Remus frowned for a moment, then deflated with a quiet sigh. "All right, all right."
+
He'd never thought about kissing Remus until he was already doing it, leaning across the greasy cartons of curry on the couch between them, his hand curling into Remus' hair as Remus' Muggle telly flashed and mumbled in the background. He kissed differently than James, more tongue and less teeth and an slightly unfamiliar tilt to his head, but he hooked his fingers in the collar of Sirius' shirt, and he made a soft, encouraging noise in the back of his throat when Sirius sucked on his lower lip.
"This," he said, pulling away slowly, his brown eyes narrowed, his mouth flushed and red and wet, "this is a horrifically stupid idea."
"Yeah," Sirius admitted, leaning in again. "It really is."
+
It took Remus nine days to give up sleeping on the couch, until his clothes were mixed with Sirius' on the floor and his boots were pushed under the bed instead of waiting beside the front door.
Sirius didn't know what to think about it, so he didn't think anything at all.
+
"Have you told him?" Peter asked, when James was at the bar and Remus was in the bog, leaning across the table and pitching his voice low, a bare buzz over the murmur of the crowd at The Apothecary, the only Wizarding local in Bethnal Green.
"Told who what?"
"James," Peter said slowly, his nose twitching. "That you are Moony are -- you know."
Sirius frowned at his beer, picking at the wrinkled, peeling label with his thumbnail. "He wouldn't care."
"No." Peter shook his head, then shrugged and poked at the roasted pumpkin seeds scattered on his napkin. "Probably not."
+
"James," Sirius said, when James nudged him back against the wall, his fingers digging into Sirius' shoulders and his teeth sharp against the skin just below Sirius' ear. "We shouldn't do this."
"I know," James said, but he tugged on Sirius' flies, and then his hand was wrapping around Sirius' cock, his thumb rubbing over the head just the way Sirius remembered. Sirius moaned in the back of his throat, his head tipping back and his hips twitching away from the wall. James leaned into him, making a low noise into Sirius' hair, pressing his cock against Sirius' hip as he slid his open mouth down the line of Sirius' jaw.
"Prongs, we're -- we can't."
James pushed his free hand under Sirius' shirt, his fingernails biting into Sirius' skin. "I just, I -- I'm getting married in a week."
"I know," Sirius snapped, thinking of the red dress robes hanging in his closet, the set Evans had picked out herself, smiling as she told Madam Malkin how she wanted the collar and cuffs. "I fucking know, all right?"
"I love her," James said, his voice thin and tight, almost sad. "I love her so fucking much, but you -- shit. You're just." He kissed Sirius, too hard and too fast, his hand shaking as it curved over Sirius' cheek. "Just, let me. Just -- one more time, yeah?"
"Yeah," Sirius mumbled, even though they were in the tiny, Diagon Alley flat James shared with Evans, in the hallway Evans painted over a weekend with McKinnon and MacDonald, on the carpet she'd Transfigured from brown to blue. James kissed Sirius' again, his tongue curling slick against Sirius' as he shoved Sirius' jeans out of the way, and then he slid to his knees, making a soft noise as he sucked Sirius' cock into his mouth.
"I've missed you," James said once, when Sirius was teetering on the edge, the heat in his gut coiled tight enough to snap, dragging a wet kiss up the length of Sirius' cock, swirling his tongue around the head before drawing it back in.
Sirius came staring at a framed picture of a day trip to the Bristol seaside, his breath catching and his thighs shaking as Peter dunked Remus under the water and Evans winked and smiled from under a naff straw hat that tied beneath her chin with a bow that matched her bathing costume.
+
Sirius Apparated directly into his flat, his shirt untucked and a bruise blooming at the hollow of his throat, a dull ache flaring under his ribs when he found Remus waiting on the couch, a blanket pulled up to his chin and the Muggle telly washing his face in shrill shades of blue and green.
"Moony."
"Goodnight, Sirius," Remus said, rolling over with a quiet sigh.