James Potter sat at the Gryffindor table, picking absently at his toast, though his attention was anything but on the food in front of him. The Great Hall was its usual bustling self this morning—students chatting, the owls flapping in and out, the chatter of house rivalries swirling in the air like a perpetual hum. But none of that mattered to James right now. His gaze was locked on one person, and one person only.
Sirius Black.
Sirius was sitting across the table, as usual, his laughter ringing out above the rest, a sound James had come to crave like the first sip of pumpkin juice in the morning. He was making some ridiculous comment to Remus, probably about Snape or a prank they’d pulled the night before, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed made James’ heart flutter unexpectedly.
James had always been aware of how charming Sirius was—how effortlessly he could draw people in with his magnetic personality, that infectious smile, and the confidence that radiated from him. He’d seen it a thousand times, of course. But today… today was different. As Sirius laughed, head thrown back and eyes sparkling with that unique, devil-may-care energy, James felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest.
And then, without warning, the thought struck him.
I want our kids to have those eyes. I want them to laugh like that.
It was a fleeting thought, but it knocked the breath out of him.
James froze for a second, the world around him fading into background noise. He didn’t know why the idea hit him so suddenly, but it felt like a switch had been flipped inside his chest. It wasn’t just about wanting Sirius to be happy. It wasn’t about just their friendship or even their relationship. It was something deeper. A future that felt so real, so tangible in that moment, that it left him breathless.
Sirius’ laugh echoed through the hall again, and James felt a pang in his chest that had nothing to do with the sound and everything to do with the thought that had just bloomed inside him. The idea of a future with Sirius… it wasn’t just a passing whim. It wasn’t a childish fantasy or a passing crush.
It was a life. It was their life. And in it, there were children who would have Sirius’ eyes. And perhaps, just perhaps, there would be moments where those children would laugh in the same carefree way, with the same mischief and joy that Sirius radiated so effortlessly.
"Prongs?" Peter’s voice cut through the fog of his thoughts, and James blinked, realizing he'd been staring at Sirius for a little too long. "You okay, mate? You look like you've seen a ghost."
James shook his head, clearing his throat quickly. He smiled, though the warmth in his cheeks was not entirely due to the rising heat in the Hall. "Yeah, just… just distracted. Thinking."
Peter raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. Instead, he glanced at Sirius, who was now still grinning like an idiot, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the attention. “That’s your boy friend, isn’t it?”
James couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips at the casual phrasing. His stomach flipped again at the thought of that simple truth. Boyfriend. He’d never tire of hearing it, never tire of thinking about it.
"Yeah," James said, his voice quieter now, though there was a hint of affection in it that was hard to hide. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”
Sirius, catching the tail end of the conversation, turned his head and caught James’ gaze across the table. His smile softened into something warmer, a private connection only the two of them shared. He winked, a silent acknowledgment that made James' heart skip a beat. Sirius was always so effortless with his affection, so confident, so sure. It was that confidence that always had James feeling like he could never quite catch up.
But now, in the quiet part of his mind, James found himself thinking maybe I’m ready to catch up. Maybe I’ve always been ready.
Sirius leaned back in his chair, tapping the table as if contemplating something. He turned back to Remus and muttered something about needing more chocolate frogs from the Hogsmeade trip, but James’ thoughts were far away, drifting in that dangerous, wonderful direction. He felt his breath catch, and it took him a second to realize that Peter was still talking to him, waiting for him to respond.
"Prongs?" Peter said, his voice tinged with that ever-present calmness. “You’re not listening, mate.”
“Sorry,” James muttered, his hand tightening around his fork, trying to ground himself in the present. He forced a smile. "What were you saying?"
"I was just saying," Peter continued, "that it might be time to talk to Lily again. You know, clear the air or whatever."
James winced. He didn’t want to think about Lily right now. Not when his mind was busy spinning in a direction that made his heart race in all sorts of new ways. The future. Kids. Sirius. All the things he hadn’t even dared imagine were suddenly as clear as the sky outside the castle windows.
James watched as Sirius laughed again at something Remus had said. His laugh was unrestrained, uninhibited, and completely contagious. The way his hair fell over his eyes when he tilted his head back. The way his whole body leaned into the sound, shoulders shaking with laughter. James felt the desire to hold onto this moment forever.
Sirius caught him looking again and raised an eyebrow. “What’s with you, Prongs? Got a fever or something?” He smirked, clearly amused at James’ distant expression.
James felt the heat of his face again, this time from more than just a fleeting thought. “No,” he said, his voice quieter, and his chest felt tight with something unspoken. He gave Sirius an easy smile, but his words came out more honestly than he expected. “I just… I don’t know. You’re just… really something, Pads.”
Sirius blinked, clearly not expecting the comment. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice a little more serious now, a hint of curiosity behind his usual teasing tone.
James found himself leaning forward a little, wanting to say more, to tell Sirius how his heart was suddenly overflowing with thoughts of the future. He wanted to tell him how he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have Sirius’ laugh echoing in their home one day, the thought of their children, maybe running around with those same eyes—mischievous, bright, full of life.
But instead, James just grinned and shook his head, his voice light. “Nothing. Just… I really like you, that’s all.”
Sirius studied him for a second, then smiled that brilliant, reckless smile that made James feel like he was the only person in the room. “I really like you too, Prongs. You’re alright, you know that?”
James couldn’t help but laugh, and for a moment, the tension in his chest eased. There it was again—that sound, that laugh, that smile. Sirius was still Sirius, and he always would be. And maybe, just maybe, James could imagine a future with him. A real future.
One where their laughter filled a home. One where their children had eyes like Sirius’—eyes full of joy, mischief, and something wild that couldn’t be tamed.
The thought was both overwhelming and beautiful, and James realized then that he wanted that future more than anything.
Sirius caught his eye again, a small, knowing smirk playing at his lips as if he knew exactly what James was thinking.
And for once, James didn’t feel the need to hide it. He leaned back in his chair, his heart still thumping wildly, and smiled.
“Maybe one day,” James said, his voice barely above a whisper, more to himself than to anyone else.
Sirius, ever the perceptive one, raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”
James just shook his head, his heart still racing in the most wonderful way.
“Nothing,” he said, his smile growing, “just… one day.”