James Potter was starting to think that Sirius Black had a superpower Not the animagus transformation—though that was certainly impressive—or the way he could make girls (and some boys) swoon just by flashing a smile. No, what James was starting to suspect was that Sirius had mastered the art of unsettling him with nothing more than a single word.
And that word was “Pet.”
It started innocently enough, just a few weeks ago. Sirius had been goofing around in the common room, calling everyone by various ridiculous names, as was his habit. James had been reading a book about advanced hexes for the upcoming Defense Against the Dark Arts exam, and Sirius—being, well, Sirius—had plopped down beside him, grinning like a maniac.
“Pass me that book, Pet."he’d said, leaning over James' shoulder and snatching the book out of his hands without waiting for a reply.
James blinked. “What did you just call me?”
Sirius’ grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Pet. You know. Like a loyal little creature.” He ruffled James' hair in a way that was so casual, so nonchalant, that James was too shocked to react at first.
“I—I’m not your pet!” James spluttered, putting his hands in his lap to stop himself from fidgeting. What was wrong with him? This was Sirius they were talking about, not some Slytherin trying to mess with him. But the word… pet… it felt too intimate somehow. Too soft, too close.
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Oh, but you are, aren’t you? I’m the master, and you’re my faithful little pet”
James tried to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach. Stop it, Potter, he mentally berated himself. It was just a word. A harmless, silly word.
But then, it happened again.
The next morning, James was huddled up in a corner of the library, poring over a Potions essay that was due soon, when Sirius appeared, leaning over the back of the chair.
“Hey, Pet, got any spare parchment?” Sirius asked, smirking as if he knew exactly what was going on inside James' head.
James froze, his pen hovering over the page. “W-what did you just call me?” His voice came out a little too high-pitched, even to his own ears.
Sirius’ smirk deepened. “You heard me. I think ‘Pet’ suits you, don’t you?” He leaned closer, completely oblivious to the way James' face was turning crimson. “You look like you’re about to bite my head off. Need a scratch behind the ears?”
At this, James nearly choked on his own breath. “Scratch behind the—what? Sirius, seriously, cut it out!”
But Sirius, of course, did not cut it out. In fact, he seemed to find James’ flustered reactions incredibly amusing. And the more James tried to brush it off, the worse it got.
Every day since that first encounter, Sirius had casually slipped the nickname “Pet” into conversation. At first, it was just in passing—quick little jabs when James was trying to concentrate or when Sirius wanted something, like the last piece of chocolate or a hand with a prank.
“Pet, you’ve got to try this, it’s brilliant!”
“Come on, Pet, just one more round of Exploding Snap?”
“You look a bit down, Pet, let me cheer you up.”
And every time, James’ heart would trip over itself. He’d freeze for a second, unsure how to respond. Why was it affecting him like this? Why was it so hard to just roll with it? It was ridiculous! It was Sirius—his best mate, the biggest prat on the planet. He shouldn’t feel like a mess every time Sirius called him that.
And yet…
“Pet,* Sirius said again one afternoon as they lounged in front of the fire in the common room, Peter and Remus busy reading at the other end of the couch. “Could you pass me that blanket? I’m cold.”
James felt a strange tension rise in his chest as he handed over the blanket. “Why do you keep calling me that?” he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of exasperation.
Sirius looked up from under his lashes, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “Because I like it,” he said simply. “And I think you do too.”
“I don’t,” James muttered, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “It’s weird.”
“Oh, it’s not weird. It’s perfect.” Sirius said, his tone so light, so teasing, that James couldn't help but glance at him, flustered. "You don't mind, do you?"
“Of course I do!” James blurted out, louder than he’d intended. He immediately regretted it when Peter and Remus glanced up at him, smirking.
“You alright, Prongs?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m fine,” James muttered quickly, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck.
But Sirius, ever the troublemaker, wasn’t about to let it go. “Why are you so defensive?” he asked, leaning in closer, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “You get all flustered every time I call you that. I think you secretly like it.”
“I do not like it!” James insisted, his face bright red. He stood up abruptly, pacing in frustration. “It’s just—weird!”
“Why is it weird?” Sirius asked, following him. “You’re mypet, aren’t you? Loyal, cute, always by my side. What’s wrong with that?”
James shot him a glare. “I’m not your pet,” he said through gritted teeth, though his heart was pounding. “And I’m definitely not cute!”
“Sure you are,” Sirius teased, his voice dipping into something a little more playful. “But I’ll take your word for it.” He then stood up, coming to stand just a bit too close to James, leaning in like he was about to whisper something. “You know, I think ‘Pet’ really suits you. You look adorable when you’re all flustered.”
James froze again, his breath catching in his throat. Was this a joke? Was Sirius messing with him, or was there something else behind that teasing grin?
Before he could respond, Peter piped up from the other side of the room, clearly enjoying watching James squirm. “I think James is jealous of his own nickname,” he said with a snicker. “It’s hilarious. Just look at him.”
Remus chuckled softly from his book, shaking his head. “Honestly, I think Sirius might be onto something, James,” he said, a little too casually. “You do seem to get a bit upset when he calls you ‘Pet.’ Almost like you care.”
James sputtered. “I do not care! Why would I care?”
“Because,” Sirius said, his voice suddenly soft and sincere, his face turning more serious than James had ever seen it when it came to this nickname, “I think you secretly like being my pet, James. Maybe you’ve always wanted to be mine.”
The words hung in the air, and for a moment, James couldn’t breathe. His heart was thundering in his chest, his mind racing, trying to make sense of what was happening.
“W-what?” James stammered, still utterly confused, his pulse racing like he’d just been hit with a stunning spell. "That’s not—"
Sirius was suddenly in front of him, so close James could feel the heat of his breath on his face. “It’s okay,” Sirius said softly, his voice low and serious now. “I don’t mind. In fact, I think it suits you. You’re mine, in a way. And I like having you around, even if you don’t always see it.”
James stared at him, completely flustered, his brain trying to catch up with what Sirius had just said. “I—uh—I don’t know what to say.”
Sirius smiled, stepping back with a wink. “You don’t have to say anything, Pet. Just know that I think you’re brilliant. And I love messing with you.”
And with that, James felt his knees go weak. There was no denying it anymore. The way Sirius called him “Pet”—it wasn’t just a joke anymore. There was something more to it. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit.
“Pet,” Sirius said again, his tone a little softer this time, as if testing it out. “Just remember—if you ever need a scratch behind the ears, I’m always here.”
James could feel his face flush, but as much as he wanted to deny it, he couldn’t help but smile. “You’re such a prat, Black.
It had been a week since Sirius stopped calling James "Pet." The shift had come after a tense conversation between them one evening in the common room, when James had finally worked up the courage to tell Sirius how uncomfortable the nickname made him. It was hard, having to admit that something as silly as a word had gotten under his skin. But in the end, he had done it—he'd told Sirius, with all the honesty he could muster, that it bothered him.
Sirius had looked surprised at first, his usual teasing expression faltering for a moment. But then he'd nodded, said something about not wanting to make James feel weird, and had agreed to stop using the nickname—just like that.
The silence that followed was strange. Sirius, ever the prankster, was remarkably well-behaved around James now. He still called him "mate" or "Prongs," but the easygoing humor that usually dripped from his words seemed a little more cautious. Every so often, James would catch him glancing over at him, looking like he was about to say something, but then thinking better of it. It was... odd. There was still that unspoken tension between them, a feeling of unacknowledged words hanging in the air.
But James tried not to dwell on it. It was probably for the best. After all, if he was being honest with himself, the nickname had made him uncomfortable for reasons he didn’t fully understand. It was just a nickname, right? Just a nickname.
That didn't stop him from missing it.
And then it happened.
One evening, a couple of weeks later, James was walking back from the kitchens with a couple of Chocolate Frogs and a few extra pumpkin pasties for later. He was humming a tune, still distracted by the sweetness of the treats in his hands, when he heard voices from the staircase leading down to the Gryffindor common room.
James froze. It was Sirius, of course. But the voice next to him made his stomach do a sudden flip.
It was Remus.
He hadn’t realized they were up here, but now that he thought about it, Remus had been avoiding him a bit lately. Maybe it was because of the tension that had been hanging in the air since the whole thing. Not that James would ever admit it out loud. He just missed his best mates being, well... normal around him.
“Do you want the last one, Pet?” Sirius was saying, his voice filled with the same playful edge James had heard so many times before, but this time, the words were aimed at Remus.
Pet?
James felt the world stop for a beat. His heart did that annoying, familiar flip in his chest, and his eyes went wide as he took in the scene. There, standing near the bottom of the staircase, was Sirius, grinning down at Remus, who was, of course, looking completely unfazed.
Sirius’ arm was casually slung over Remus’ shoulder, as if the nickname was just another part of their friendship. But James felt his blood run cold.
“You’re such a terrible influence on me,” Sirius continued, chuckling. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to concentrate on anything when you’re always distracting me.”
“Don’t blame me for your inability to focus,” Remus shot back, but his voice was soft, fond, and there was that smile—a small, genuine thing—on his lips.
James felt a pang of something sharp in his chest. His hands, still holding the Chocolate Frogs, clenched tighter. He swallowed, trying to breathe through the sudden tightness in his throat. Was it... jealousy? It couldn’t be. That was ridiculous. Jealous of Remus? Over a nickname?
But Sirius had called him Pet first.
Remus had only just started getting the nickname, but it felt like it was supposed to be his. The name had belonged to him—at least, that was what James told himself. It had been theirs.
And now, here they were, Sirius and Remus, casually exchanging the same nickname James had once found endearing, now tainted with the sting of something he didn’t know how to define.
He forced himself to step back, just out of sight, his breath catching in his chest as he leaned against the wall. He needed to calm down. It was just a name. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.
But it did.
James felt his pulse quicken as he stood there, his mind racing. It wasn’t the name itself—he didn’t mind the name Pet when it was just the two of them, when it was playful and fun and full of that familiar, ridiculous Sirius charm. But hearing Sirius use it with someone else, someone who wasn’t him... it hit different. It made him realize, in a way he hadn’t before, just how much he'd missed it.
How much he’d wanted it.
After a moment, when he was sure they were moving toward the common room, James hurried back the way he had come, trying to keep his expression neutral. He couldn’t let anyone see how messed up this was making him. He didn’t even know what this feeling was. Why was it so important that Sirius called him that, and why did hearing it with Remus suddenly make him feel like he was being replaced?
---
Later that evening, after dinner, James found himself sitting alone in one of the armchairs by the fire, staring at the dancing flames with his hands clasped tightly around a cup of tea.
The warmth of the fire did little to settle the tightness in his chest, but it was better than nothing.
Peter had already wandered off, and Remus was in the library finishing an essay. That left Sirius. Of course, Sirius.
When James heard the door open, he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He could feel the weight of Sirius’ presence behind him, like he always could.
Sirius paused, his voice laced with that teasing note that made James’ insides do somersaults.
“*Prongs, you alright?”
James’ stomach dropped, and he set his tea down, his eyes narrowing slightly as he turned to look at Sirius. He kept his voice cool, but the irritation slipped out before he could stop it.
“You called Remus Pet,” James said, his voice tighter than he intended.
Sirius blinked, clearly thrown off by the sudden shift in James’ tone. “Yeah, so?”
“So, it’s... weird,” James said, trying to find the words, his frustration rising. “You... you haven’t called me that in ages, but you’re calling him— him—that? It’s not... It’s not fair, Sirius.”
Sirius stared at him for a long moment, confusion giving way to understanding as a smile started tugging at his lips. “Ohh. I see.” He took a few steps closer, crossing his arms, and his grin turned wicked. “Jealous, are we, Prongs?”
James couldn’t hide the way his cheeks heated, his hands suddenly clammy. “No, I’m not jealous. I just... It’s not supposed to be his name. It was mine. First.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Yes!” James exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I mean... You can’t just—replace me, Sirius. You don’t get to just go around calling other people ‘Pet’ like it’s nothing.” He felt his heart pounding, a little embarrassed by how emotional he was getting over something so stupid.
Sirius’ smile softened then, and he took a step closer, his eyes warm with that mischievous glint. “You’re not replaced, Prongs. I just... I like calling people things, okay? You’ve always been my ‘Pet,’ and Remus, well, he’s... He’s Remus.” He smirked. “But you’re still my favorite.”
James' heart skipped a beat, but the jealousy—real and raw—was still hanging in the air. “I don’t want to be your favorite if it means you’re giving Remus the nickname, too,” he muttered, feeling awkward, his own words tangling together.
Sirius shook his head, stepping closer, and James could see the glint of something else in his eyes now. Something softer. “You’re a prat, you know that?”
“I am,” James admitted reluctantly, but he couldn’t stop the smile creeping up on his lips. “I’m a jealous prat.”
“Well,” Sirius said, leaning in and dropping his voice to a near whisper, “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll make sure you’re the only one I ever call Pet again.”
James blinked at him, not sure if he heard that right.
Sirius grinned. “But I’m still calling Remus darling from now on.”
“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” James groaned, but the flutter in his chest refused to go away.
And for some reason, he didn’t mind it nearly as much as he thought he would.