A Very Potter Christmas

James nearly tripped down the stairs in his eagerness to go, tearing through the house at top speed. For once, he was actually looking forward to a Society event, but to be fair, this one involved flying.

Balls weren’t the only events the Ton hosted at this time of year. There were also daytime luncheons, charity galas, and a whole host of other fundraiser events. You see, some families decided to use the opportunity of the Social Season to facilitate some philanthropy and nudge their peers to get generous. James wholeheartedly approved; if the rich and the powerful were already congregating, they might as well open their coin pouches for the needy while they were at it.

Today’s daytime event was just that. A fundraiser. And not just any fundraiser — a broom racing fundraiser! James couldn’t wait! The Fawleys were big lovers of all things sports, and especially flying; their patron was Hermes, patron of the gymnasia and a flighted god himself. So, every year they hosted a tournament of races at a track they owned in the Devonshire countryside. Participants had to pay a fee to enter, which of course went to the charity of the year, and it was tradition that the winners each donated a large additional sum themselves.

James was determined to win this year.

He’d participated every year since he was old enough to ride a broom, gliding up the age categories and even winning a handful of times. This year, he’d be in the 15-20 age group for the third time in a row, but he had yet to win this particular bracket. It was time to change that. He was dead set on standing atop that pedestal and heaving that trophy, the circle of laurels wreathing his head.

He was so lost in his fantasies of winning that he bowled straight into Regulus.

“Mother of Merlin, Potter, you have got to stop knocking me over!” Regulus scowled, bracing his hands against James’s chest to push to his knees. He’d landed atop James this time, because James had twisted them mid-fall so that the boy’s body would be cushioned by his own. It was the least he could do for knocking into him.

But now, Regulus was straddling him. Yet again. An exact mirror of what happened during the snowball fight only a week ago. Merlin, had it only been a week?

“You are quite possibly the clumsiest person I have ever met,” the Slytherin declared, glaring down at him adorably. “Why does this keep happening?”

“Uhm…” James searched frantically for words but couldn’t seem to find any. He was too distracted and bewildered by the sight of his crush straddling him and looking devastatingly handsome in his flying gear. “You’re racing today,” he managed dumbly.

The boy quirked an elegant brow. “How astute. Yes, I’m racing today.”

James awkwardly clambered up to brace himself on his elbows, not fighting the urge to bring himself closer to the other boy. “You never participate in the races.”

Regulus seemed to pause before answering. “I was never allowed to participate until this year.”

Oh. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged gracefully, and sinuously reached for his broom, beginning to check the object over and making sure it hadn’t been damaged in the tumble. His shifting drew attention to the fact that he was sitting upon James’s nether regions again. Little Jimmy stirred beneath James’s dragon-hide riding trousers, but he hastily willed it down. Riding gear was never particularly successful in hiding erections.

“Are you going to get up?” James prompted, his throat a little dry with nerves. He desperately hoped that Regulus didn’t clock little Jimmy this time.

“In a minute,” Regulus replied, unhurried as he examined his broom. He didn’t look particularly inclined to move. “You’re incredibly lucky you didn’t damage it. I would have cursed you into the New Year.”

Automatically, James’s head swivelled to look for his own broom, his Nimbus having landed on the floor to his left. He made to reach for it but couldn’t with Regulus’s weight pinning him down. “Could you—?” He was going to ask for Regulus to get up, but instead, the boy simply reached for his broom, bringing it closer and inspecting it on James’s behalf. His movements once again brushed across James’s groin, providing ample stimulation. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Looks fine to me,” Regulus reported, “We got lucky.”

“Cool,” James replied hoarsely. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

“Whatever do you mean, Potter?” Regulus responded innocently. He cocked his head and gazed at James with wide eyes. Wide, adorable eyes.

“Oh, you’re evil,” James dropped back, lying flat again and closing his eyes as he tipped his head back.

He could hear the smirk in Regulus’s tone. “Well, if you keep knocking me over, you have to be prepared for my revenge.” He wiggled a little in his seat, and yep… James was hard now. They were both aware that James was hard now.

Cheeks flaming, he brought his hands to shield his face. “It doesn’t bother you?” He asked, his pitch high with embarrassment. His crush was probably extraordinarily obvious with his body’s reaction here. But maybe… maybe he could play it off? “It’s just hormones,” he said.

“Hormones,” Regulus repeated tonelessly.

“I’m pretty sure a light breeze could get me… well, you know.” He forced a light chuckle.

A beat of silence.

Regulus shifted his hips, his arse dragging across James’s erect cock through layers of clothing. “A breeze could do this?”

Well, no. A breeze could not get James even half as turned on as Regulus Black straddling him and looking like an Adonis in tight leather riding gear. “Y-Yeah,” he lied.

There was a long pause. Eventually: “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

James carefully peeked at the boy between his fingers. Regulus was staring down at him, looking comfortable seated upon James’s form. His expression though, that seemed almost… scared. Vulnerable.

Quickly, he registered James’s eyes on him, and his face collapsed back into a smirk. “Besides, flustering you only increases my chances of victory.”

And this? Sparring with Regulus over flying? Whether it was quidditch or racing, this was familiar enough to soothe James’s nerves. He dropped his hands and braced himself up on his elbows again, dragging a cocky smirk onto his face with force. “You have no chance of victory. I’m going to win.”

“You wish, Potter.” Regulus’s eyes glinted with a competitive shine.

James grinned lazily. “We both know I’m a faster flyer than you.”

“Do we?” Regulus cocked a brow. “You could never handle the speeds I reach chasing a snitch.”

“And you could never know exactly how fast I have to travel to keep the quaffle out of enemy hands,” James countered. It was dawning on them both that they’d never been able to directly compete before. With Regulus being a Seeker, and James a Chaser, their teams had gone head-to-head, but they themselves?

“I guess we’ll have to see,” Regulus concluded gleefully, relishing in the chance to battle it out. “We’ll be in the same division, won’t we?”

“Yeah,” James nodded, the thrum of excitement rolling through him. “Today’s the day we’ll finally know which one of us is on top.”

Regulus’s eyes flashed with wickedness. “Oh, James,” he drawled, sickly sweet. He placed a hand on James’s chest and shoved him backwards, whooshing the air right out of his lungs as he slammed him against the ground. He gasped for breath, staring up wide-eyed.

Regulus was smirking down at him like the cat that got the cream. He leaned closer, sending James’s heart rate skyrocketing. Was he going to…? Were they about to…?

The boy stopped when their lips were only a few inches apart. “We already know which one of us is on top,” Regulus whispered crisply, before he abruptly retreated, swinging off James’s lap and drawing to his feet.

James just watched him, stunned and dazed.

Regulus tossed James’s Nimbus across his chest. “See you out there. Enjoy eating my dust.”

“No chance,” James batted back without even thinking about it.

Regulus turned and began to walk away. “Oh, and good luck getting your little situation under control. This isn’t that kind of ride, after all.”

James stared openly at his swaying hips and the round curve of his arse as Regulus went. He couldn’t even think about trying to stop himself, which a part of him knew Regulus was banking on.

He groaned when the boy finally disappeared round the corner. He looked down at little Jimmy. “He is going to get us in so much trouble.”

Little Jimmy twitched in agreement.

He flopped back and tried to think about kneazles dying or something equally boner-killing, willing little Jimmy down with every ounce of his being.

*

The track was an intoxicating mix of stillness and vibrant energy.

The rolling fields of the Devonshire countryside seemed endless. Blankets of white snow stretching out into the distance and dotted with trees of green dusted in frost. A morning fog lingered in the air, each breath clinging onto it so that every puff of an exhale teetered, suspended in the air for a few seconds after it was released. Faintly, the sound of twittering birds could be heard, though otherwise the fauna seemed to have retreated into the privacy of the wilderness. In general, there was a great sense of hush from the nature surrounding them, quieter and calmer and stiller, the further from the track James looked.

Near him, however, the Ton buzzed about like a hundred flittering bees. A wave of sound filled his ears as people laughed and chatted and sold their wares. A string of merchants in quaint little stalls bellowed out deals and offers, drawing unsuspecting witches and wizards in. All the proceeds were to go to this year’s charity, the Children’s Ward at St Mungo’s. This was a cause very dear to his mother’s heart as she worked as a Healer there for many years. Thus, James could see her out of the corner of his eye, bantering with her fellow wixen and luring them subtly towards the stalls, tricking them into buying more than they had intended. Practically pickpocketing them, the way she was swindling them.

To the right was the actual track, a twisting ring of snowy grass marked out by floating boundary rocks, laying out the course of the track. A great mass of stands had been erected next to it for the Ton to watch on. Already, people were finding their seats so that they could get a good vantage point when the races began. James could see a group of men whispering and looking shifty at the base of the stands, likely exchanging bets and hoping their wives wouldn’t catch them.

There were also a handful of tents smattered along the side of the track, pitched for VIPs to watch and lounge at their leisure, with far more space to sprawl than in the packed stands. Inside the largest tent, James’s Dad was chattering jovially with Lord Jason Fawley, their host for today and the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. Lord Fawley laughed raucously at whatever story Dad was dramatically retelling, eyes alight. James had a sneaking suspicion they were about to be invited into the tent for the day. Mum would be happy; she hated sitting in the crowded stands. In fact, James supposed his Dad was schmoozing for that exact reason, always doing whatever was in his power to make his wife happy. James smiled as he tore his gaze away.

He was standing in the line to sign in for the races. He’d already registered to participate ahead of time, but he had to let them know he was here and be assigned his race time and participant number. Ahead of him in the line, Regulus stood perfectly still, his hands clasped stoically behind his back, his posture impeccable. They’d already checked their brooms away.

Cheekily, James draped himself along the boy’s rigid back and leaned his head on his hands on Regulus’s shoulder. “Excited?”

Regulus gave a perfunctory shrug, attempting to dislodge James, but resigned himself to the contact fairly quickly. “Terribly. I can’t wait to look down at you from first place.”

“That’d be a first,” James teased. “Both you beating me, and you being taller.”

Smooth as anything, Regulus flicked James’s forehead, right in the centre.

“Ouch!”

“Get off me.”

“No.” James pouted, clinging on tighter. “I’m actually very excited. I can’t believe we’ve never gone head-to-head like this before.”

“It would have been too damaging to your ego,” Regulus drawled, huffing at James’s behaviour. “As it is, you’re about to have your pride shattered.”

“I sincerely doubt that. I’m going to wipe the floor with your arse,” James declared confidently, already picturing the cute little scowl on Regulus’s face when James won. James bet he’d furrow his eyebrows too, and get that adorable crease in the skin between the brows.

“You’re an arrogant bastard, do you know that?”

“You aren’t?” James batted back pointedly.

The ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of the boy’s lips. “Touché. You’re also a brainless oaf, though.”

“And you’re a smarmy prick.” James didn’t even bat an eye. “Don’t see me complaining.”

“That would require some braincells, I rather think.”

James couldn’t help but grin. Regulus hadn’t got any less mean or rude since they’d been properly acquainted, but somehow, James didn’t mind at all. He actually rather liked it (although he wasn’t sure what that said about him). He could imagine the two of them snipping back and forth endlessly if they were in a relationship, and the prospect caused a bubbling feeling of joy to burst within him, rather than any dread.

He wondered if there was any chance at all that Regulus liked him back. He doubted it. The bloke might be into blokes, but that didn’t mean he was into James necessarily. The only guy James knew Regulus had been with at all was that Barty fellow. He found himself comparing them in his mind, seeing how he measured up.

It seemed like both James and Crouch had a bit of a trouble streak, and they were both taller than Regulus, both with a boyish look about them. But that was where the similarities ended. Crouch was far smarter than James, racking up a record twelve OWLs last year, whilst James was more of a jock, he supposed. He was different in appearance from Crouch too; brown eyes where Crouch’s were blue, longer black locks where Crouch’s hair was a short, spiky brown. There was also the fact that James himself was brown. Crouch was not. Most wizards in England were not. He was in the minority there, and sometimes people could be dicks about his Mum immigrating here from India, about how the colour of his skin made him foreign and different despite living here his entire life. James doubted Regulus thought that way, but he wondered if Regulus would like someone with skin as dark as James’s. If he found it at all attractive.

A wave of insecurity washed through him. Was he attractive to Regulus? Was it possible at all that Regulus might want him? Was his skin too dark? Was he not smart enough? Was he too talkative? Too much of a ‘brainless oaf’ and an ‘arrogant bastard’? What if Regulus really truly meant those things and found him lacking?

He retreated from Regulus’s shoulder. “I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”

The boy half-turned to raise a bemused eyebrow at James, clearly catching the sudden shift in James’s tone.

In return, he avoided eye contact and scuffed his shoe along the snow. “I got ten OWLs. All Os. And I tutor some younger kids in Transfig.”

Regulus seemed to visibly pause, and James could feel him staring. Could imagine the cogs turning behind the other boy’s eyes without having to look. “Do you now?”

James hummed, still averting his gaze. His shoe dug into the crunchy snow beneath his feet, burrowing into the wet grass beneath it. “I know I seem like I don’t care about serious things like grades, but I do. I can be serious, and I can be smart sometimes.” He didn’t know why he was saying all of this exactly, but he hoped Regulus took it in. He might not measure up to Crouch all the way, but he wasn’t so bad really. He had some redeeming characteristics.

Regulus was silent for a long moment. Then: “Cleverness isn’t everything. And life would be boring without some levity.”

Levity? James could do levity. He was levity incarnate. He plastered on a bright grin and met the Slytherin’s careful gaze. “I also know how to use my cleverness for nefarious purposes!”

Regulus arched an elegant brow. “You? Nefarious?”

“I have a plan,” James beamed, leaning closer, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye. “It’s my last year at Hogwarts, so I have to go out with a bang and leave my mark on the school.”

The corners of Regulus’s lips were tipping upwards again. He’d turned to face James fully by now, standing backwards in the queue. Still with perfect posture. Hands still clasped primly at his back. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“I’m going to bring a gigantic squid onto campus,” James divulged in a giddy whisper. “They won’t be able to get rid of it.”

Both of Regulus’s eyebrows flew up. “Explain.”

So, James did. He relished in the way Regulus’s pretty grey eyes got wider and wider as he talked. In the way his perfect pink lips stretched into a full smile subconsciously. James didn’t dare point it out to the boy, knowing the gorgeous grin would drop in a second if he knew he was doing it.