Archive of Our Own ^beta

"You're in love with me," James tells Sirius one Friday afternoon, at the Gryffindor common room.

The room goes quiet, and Remus' quill freezes in place. Which is strange enough, because James says all sorts of made-up, self-important things when he's bored or people haven't been paying him enough attention in too long, and sure, he believes them, but that doesn't mean anyone else should. Somehow this seems to have slipped everybody's notice today— must be the N.E.W.T.S. And almost worse that the upcoming N.E.W.T.S., Sirius' quill has decided to stop working just as he had resigned himself to writing Professor Willerby's essay. This is what he gets for accepting a birthday gift from Regulus.

"Don't be daft," Sirius tell James. "Pass me a quill."

He looks up after a minute, because somehow there's no quill on his hand even though James has just seen him put his own down on the table. James is, it seems, too busy staring at him with that stubborn clench of his jaw that spells trouble. This wouldn't usually be a problem, but Sirius really does have to finish this essay. Behind James' shoulder, Remus is giving Sirius a wide-eyed, meaningful look that Sirius really wishes he had been told in advance how to interpret. But he wasn't, and here they are.

"Sirius," James says, with his own kind of meaningful look that Sirius knows how to interpret as you're the daft one, actually. "I'm trying to tell you something here."

"I rather think you're meant to ask that sort of thing, not tell it," Sirius replies, rolling his eyes. "Now the quill. James, c'mon mate. If I don't finish this essay, that detention that might or might not be enforced is definitely getting enforced. And then you're getting it too, because I'll be telling on you to Professor Willerby for being such a pillock."

"But you'll still be in love with me."

James' eyes are all dark and intense, like they got up until last year whenever Evans passed him by in the corridors. Sirius does know how to pick his battles— really, just because he usually picks all of them doesn't mean he doesn't.

"Yes, Prongs. I mean, isn't everyone?" He gives James his most hopeful look. "Quill?"

Remus sighs really loudly, head in his hands. It's one of those sighs that suggests what Sirius has just done will have consequences beyond his comprehension. As in, will come back to bite him in the arse later. But James finally gives Sirius the blasted quill, so really, he's still winning.

"That's my hand."

James glances down at where he is inexplicably holding Sirius' hand and shrugs.

"I know."

"It's my wand hand, and we're in the middle of the corridor, and I will be needing it in a minute at Defense."

That seems to get through James' thick skull, because he lets go of Sirius' hand. Except then Remus and Peter have to step out of the way so James can walk by Sirius' other side and hold that hand instead. Professor Chaddesley doesn't even seem surprised when she sees them walk in, and James doesn't let go.

"You could still get Evans to go to Hogsmeade with you, I reckon."

"Hmm?" James replies, from where he's braiding Sirius' hair. Hopefully that's what he's doing, anyway. It started off like that, but you can't trust James with this sort of thing— it's one of his best qualities.

"Evans. Hogsmeade." Sirius tries to glare at James over his shoulder, but James has a tight grip on the half-done braid and will not let him turn his head. "No need to stay here and mope all day. You'd have to do a fair bit of grovelling, but if you avoid saying sorry your friend is such a wanker this time, you might just make it before everything closes."

Not that James seems that put off by the situation, really. He ranted and sulked for an entire day after the latest argument over Evans' terrible best friend choices, but it would've been at least a solid month if it had happened just last year. And now he seems perfectly content to be sitting here, wasting his weekend to eating chocolate frogs with Sirius in the common room while their yearmates are away. Including Remus and Peter, those traitors. James is lucky Sirius thought him pitiful enough earlier that he didn't insist on the both of them going to Hogsmeade anyway— James hadn't even bothered asking Evans out this time, 's the thing, so maybe Sirius should have taken him to the Hospital Wing after all.

"I'd rather stay here with you," James replies, utterly unconcerned and sincere. Worrying. "Also, stop squirming. You're getting me to braid this all lopsided."

"When did you start dating Potter?"

Regulus says a number of strange, irritating things whenever he speaks, which is why Sirius tends to avoid listening to him. Unfortunately they can only avoid each other so much, even at Hogwarts, and Sirius wanted to talk to him about a certain disappointingly basic, quill-related prank anyway.

"Focus, Reggie. I'm trying to impart a life lesson here— just because you say something is unbreakable when it obviously is not, doesn't make that a good prank. Points for effort, but try a little harder next birthday, will you? You're embarrassing me."

"It is unbreakable," Regulus replies, with his usual dead-eyed stare. "But we'll get back to your failure to read even simple instructions later. When did you start dating Potter?"

"I'm not dating James. I reckon I'd notice if I were dating my best mate. What'd you bloody mean by—"

"Would you really? Because everyone keeps talking about you and Potter's thrilling love story, and all the soppy looks you insist on giving each other while other people are trying to eat. And the hand holding, and the hair braiding, and the Hogsmeade—"

"Grow up, Reggie, that's how best mates work."

Regulus gives him a very long look. It reminds Sirius uncomfortably of Remus, which is only a problem if he ever wants to be able to sleep again. Unfortunately, he does. Did. And now there's that image in his head, aside from the building, burning feeling that Sirius really is missing something here.

"I don't think Potter knows the difference," Regulus says, slowly. "Perhaps you should tell him clearly enough that even he can understand. I'm not in love with you, or you're far too self-absorbed for me to like you that way, or whatever will stop people from asking me for details of your imaginary sex life."

"Hey—"

"Write him a letter with the quill I gave you— it's meant to have you write the truth, by the way, not to be used for essays. Which you would have known if you had read my note."

"And just how did you get your hands on something like that?" Sirius is really hoping he doesn't sound impressed. He's not, okay, he's— worried. Yeah.

"It's not Veritaserum, for Merlin's sake," Regulus replies, after his longest eye-roll since the time Sirius told him he was best mates with James in the first place, back in Regulus' first year. "It's not regulated, because it doesn't give you a compulsion to tell the truth. It's just an— invitation to introspection. I thought you could use it."

There's an insult there that Sirius isn't even going to bother addressing. He has better things to do— like have Remus check all his recent essays, just in case.

They're in the Gryffindor common room, having commandeered the best sofas with their last-year privileges. He has talked Peter into checking his essays, because Remus refused to do it unless Sirius explained why, and Sirius is still too busy processing the thought that James might for some reason think they're boyfriends now. Besides, the whole situation sounds like something Remus will want to yell at him for— or Remus' version of yelling, anyway, which is much worse.

And one of James' hands is on his knee. Sirius realises this about halfway through reading the assigned Potions chapter, and it seems way too late by then to say anything about it.

Bollocks.

"Hey, James," he says, as he rummages for Regulus' quill in his bag. "Pass me some parchment, will you?"

James does, without even glancing up from his own reading. Sirius glances at Remus as he writes, just in case he's being given another one of his meaningful looks, and then slaps the parchment on top of James' Potions book. James raises his eyebrows at him, but obediently looks down at Sirius' head tilt. And keeps looking at it for a long, long second, eyebrows still raised. Then, most worryingly, the eyebrow raise is replaced by one of James' smuggest smiles.

"Thanks, I know."

Much as he'd like to rub this response in Regulus' endlessly annoying, self-righteous face, Sirius is getting that feeling again. The burning one— not indigestion, except for the part where he might end up being sick all over the sofa. The one that tells him that maybe, just maybe, Remus was right and something is back to bite him in the arse. He takes the parchment back from James.

It says I'm in love with you.

After he storms out of the common room, Sirius processes it all in three stages. Stage one, shock. It's not every day that you discover that not only you really have been dating your best mate, who you're in love with, this whole time, but that apparently everyone knew all of that before you did. Stage two, anger— mostly at Regulus, the meddling bastard. Stage three—

James stumbles out of the portrait in the middle of that one, actually.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They look at each other. James is all disheveled, and grinning, and maybe sort of attractive in this light. He's been all of those things for most of the time Sirius has known him and Sirius has never wanted to snog him before, that he remembers, but he supposes he's held out for long enough.

"Just to be clear, you're in love with me," Sirius says.

"Yes," James replies, still grinning.

Sirius is still holding Regulus' stupid quill. He throws it at James, even though he knows James will catch it. He does. And then he gets really close, and he happens to smell good, too, and Sirius sort of maybe forgets if he was supposed to be upset about something or not.

"It wasn't a question," Sirius tells him, sternly, and James laughs— and then they're not laughing, either of them, because they're both otherwise occupied.

As it turns out, stage three involves a lot of tongue.

A month and a half later, for Christmas time, Regulus is invited to the Potters' house.

Regulus' Christmas present to Sirius is accepting the invitation. And later, when Sirius and James are done finding their way under every mistletoe in the house, Sirius watches Regulus open his present with unrestrained glee.

It's fifty dozen sugar quills.

Christmas of '77 becomes memorable for a great number of reasons, the least of which is Regulus getting himself banned from the Potters' until at least James and Sirius' wedding, in the words of James' parents themselves. Unfortunately, James and Sirius never do manage to stop laughing when thinking about it for long enough to tell the tale, so Remus and Peter don't get to hear it.

Until the actual wedding, anyway. As much as Sirius hates giving Regulus credit for anything— that's a toast.