It was an ordinary Wednesday morning when the first sign of trouble appeared.
James Potter, perched on his usual spot at the Gryffindor table, was pretending to read through his Transfiguration notes. His focus, however, was far from on the words in front of him. His attention kept drifting back to the scene unfolding across the room.
Sirius Black, looking effortlessly disheveled as always, was sitting with Peter, his back turned toward James. But it wasn’t Sirius’s usual antics that had James’s heart rate quickening. It was the bouquet of flowers—bright, vibrant, and perfectly arranged—sitting in front of him.
James’s brow furrowed as his gaze flicked between the flowers and Sirius, who was currently poking around with the stems, clearly perplexed.
"Mate," James called across the table, his voice tight with barely restrained irritation, "where’d you get those flowers?"
Sirius glanced up lazily, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "What, these?" He picked up the bouquet, letting the stems brush against his face in a dramatic flourish. "Got no clue. They just appeared. Weird, right?"
James blinked, his stomach doing an involuntary flip. "What do you mean, ‘appeared’?" He could feel his pulse thudding in his ears now. "Did someone leave them for you?"
Sirius gave a nonchalant shrug, leaning back in his seat. "I reckon so. I found them by the portrait hole this morning. No note, no name. Just these." He gave them another flourish for emphasis.
James’s fingers tightened around his quill, his thoughts suddenly spiraling. *A secret admirer? For Sirius?*
"Maybe it’s just some admirer, like you said," Remus said from beside James, looking equally intrigued, though far more composed. "Some Slytherin trying to make a bold move."
"I don’t care if it’s a Slytherin or a Hufflepuff," James muttered, his voice more tense than he intended. "Who would just leave flowers like that and not even leave a name?"
Sirius rolled his eyes, clearly enjoying James’s increasing agitation. "You’re awfully worked up about it, Prongs," he teased, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye that suggested he was enjoying the show. "Maybe you’re jealous. I think someone’s got a crush."
James’s face burned at the suggestion, but he quickly shoved the feeling down. "I’m not jealous," he snapped, though even to himself, it sounded weak. "It’s just—strange, that’s all."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, mate?" His grin widened, looking far too pleased with himself. "You’re usually so cool about things. Flowers showing up for me and all of a sudden, you’re acting like I stole your favorite broomstick."
"I’m just—*not* interested," James muttered quickly, feeling his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. "I just think it’s... odd."
But it wasn’t odd, was it? It was *agonizing*.
---
The next few days only seemed to heighten the tension. The flowers were everywhere now. On Sirius’s desk in the common room. On his bed beside his Quidditch gear. Even in his hands, when he casually walked through the halls, teasing James by waving them around like he was a royal receiving an award. And James? He was losing it.
He had spent the last few days pretending like the knot in his stomach wasn’t growing tighter every time he saw Sirius holding those stupid flowers, his fingers casually grazing the petals with that casual, *Sirius* Black arrogance. He couldn't stop himself from picturing someone, anyone, sending those flowers to *him*.
But it was clear now—those flowers weren’t for James. They were for Sirius.
"James, you’re acting weird," Remus noted quietly, watching James fidget with his Quidditch gloves in the common room later that evening.
"I’m not acting weird," James snapped, his voice defensive.
Remus raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything more. Instead, he simply leaned back on the couch and gave James a knowing look.
“Alright, alright," James sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of his own thoughts. "I can’t stand it. Who the bloody hell is sending Sirius flowers? I mean—what is this? A bloody romantic novel?"
Remus suppressed a smirk. "Well, it’s *not* you, is it?"
James shot him a glare. "You think I’d send him flowers? *Please*. He’d never let me live it down." He threw himself back into the armchair dramatically, running a hand through his messy hair. "But it’s not that, Moony. It’s the fact that someone is—*someone*—is making a bloody move on him. And he’s eating it up! He *loves* it."
"Well, he can’t help it if someone’s got a thing for him," Remus said with a grin, though he was clearly enjoying James’s frustration. "I mean, he is pretty irresistible."
"Don't *say* that!" James practically growled. "He’s my best friend! I—" He stopped, his voice cracking slightly, and his face went redder than it had any right to. "*I* don’t like him like that. Not at all."
Remus leaned forward, his eyes flicking over James with a quiet understanding. "No, you don’t," he said softly, "but you're still jealous."
James shot him a quick look. "I’m not jealous!"
Remus raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Keep denying it. But maybe next time you’re, you know, glaring daggers at the flowers or *Sirius*..." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You might want to ask yourself why that is."
James opened his mouth to argue, but before he could get a word out, the door to the common room opened, and there stood Sirius, his usual swagger on full display.
"Hey, you two," Sirius said, holding the bouquet of flowers up in front of him like they were a trophy. “Guess what I found today?”
James narrowed his eyes. "More flowers?"
Sirius grinned wider. "You bet. Another set. No note. Just these." He waved them in front of James’s face in the most obnoxious way possible. “I’m starting to think someone’s got a thing for me, yeah?”
James’s mouth was dry. "Who the hell is it, Pads?" he asked, his voice betraying none of the frustration that was building in his chest.
Sirius laughed, clearly oblivious to the storm brewing behind James’s green eyes. “I haven’t the faintest idea. But someone’s gotta admire the *king* of charm, don’t you think?”
"Yeah, sure," James muttered, unable to suppress the bitterness rising in his throat.
Sirius, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing, sauntered over and casually placed the bouquet down on the table between them. "Maybe you should ask around," he added, looking directly at James, his smile mischievous. "Could be a competition for my affection. Better start taking notes, Prongs. You’re looking a little rusty."
James stared at the flowers, the overwhelming feeling of jealousy finally boiling over. "You know what, Pads?" he said, voice shaking with sudden emotion. "I don’t care who’s sending you flowers. It’s just—" He stopped, breathing deeply, trying to compose himself. "It’s just bloody irritating."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, intrigued by James’s outburst. "What’s irritating about it? Shouldn’t you be happy for me?"
James’s gaze flicked to the bouquet and then back to Sirius’s face. His throat tightened. “I *am* happy for you, alright? But it’s just—stop flaunting it in my face like it’s some bloody game!” He snapped, standing up from the table so quickly that his chair fell back. “Just—ugh. Forget it.”
Sirius’s smirk faded, replaced by a flicker of realization. He stood up slowly, crossing the room to stand in front of James. “James," he said quietly. “Why does this bother you so much?”
James swallowed hard, feeling his heart thud painfully against his chest. "I don’t know," he whispered. “I just... don’t want someone else sending you flowers. I... I want to be the one who does that.”
Sirius blinked. "What?"
James exhaled sharply, turning away to hide his red face. "I mean... I don’t know. It’s stupid, alright? You probably think it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stand seeing you with someone else’s attention like that. I—"
Sirius stepped forward, lifting James’s chin gently with two fingers so that their eyes locked.
"James," he said softly, his voice low and serious. "I’m not the one who’s been sending me flowers. But if you’re the one who wants to, then... maybe you should just say it."
James froze, his heart racing. "Say what?"
Sirius smiled, a bit softer now. "Say you like me. Because I might just like you too."
James felt his breath catch in his throat. Suddenly, the flowers didn’t matter at all. It was just Sirius—Sirius who was standing right in front of him, looking at him with that mischievous yet soft expression that made James’s heart race faster than a Bludger chasing a Seeker.
For a moment, James couldn’t find his words. His mouth went dry, and he stood there, frozen, heart pounding in his chest. Did Sirius really just say that? Did he—?
"You… you like me?" James croaked, his voice barely above a whisper, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. His mind was swirling with the implications of Sirius’s words, trying to catch up.
Sirius’s eyes softened as he watched James, and for once, the teasing glint wasn’t there. Instead, there was something warmer, something quieter. He nodded slowly, stepping closer. "Yeah, James. I like you." His voice was low, almost a whisper now too. "I’ve liked you for a while."
James’s chest felt like it might explode. The rush of emotions—relief, confusion, excitement—crashed over him all at once. He had been so *sure* he was the only one feeling this way, so sure that he was alone in this stupid, confusing mess of affection for his best friend. But Sirius? Sirius felt the same?
"You—" James swallowed hard, struggling to find words. "You didn’t say anything. All this time, and you didn’t say anything?" His voice was shaking now, the frustration mixing with something else—hope, maybe? "You could’ve told me, Sirius. I didn’t know how long I could keep pretending this was just about flowers and stupid jokes."
Sirius chuckled softly, a nervous edge to his smile. "I know. I’m a bloody idiot, aren’t I? But I didn’t know how you felt. Thought I was just confusing things." He ran a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "And yeah, I definitely enjoyed watching you squirm a little with those flowers. Couldn’t resist."
James blinked, a sharp laugh escaping his lips. "You *did* that on purpose, didn’t you?" He shook his head in disbelief, a wild grin spreading across his face despite the pounding in his chest. "You knew I was losing my mind over those flowers."
Sirius shrugged, still grinning, though his eyes were soft and honest now. "Maybe. But I’m just glad you finally *get* it. I thought I might have to stage an entire bloody play to get it across, but here we are." He paused, taking a step closer, his gaze never leaving James. "So... now that you know, what are you gonna do about it?"
James’s stomach did a flip. It wasn’t the question, not exactly—it was the way Sirius was looking at him. The warmth in his eyes, the open honesty in his expression. All the teasing and bravado was gone, and there was nothing left but… sincerity.
"I—I don’t know," James stammered, his heart still racing. "I’ve been an idiot. All this time, I thought I was the only one who felt this way. But you…" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet Sirius’s gaze. "You could’ve told me sooner, Sirius. I’ve been *dying* to say something to you, but I didn’t think you felt the same way."
Sirius stepped forward, now just inches from James, his voice soft but steady. "I know. I’m sorry. But I’m telling you now."
For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the air thick with everything they hadn’t said in the years they’d been friends. James’s heart was hammering, and for the first time in ages, he felt like he might be able to breathe properly.
And then, finally, Sirius reached out and cupped James’s face gently in his hands, pulling him closer.
"James," Sirius murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve wanted this for so long."
James didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and kissed Sirius.
It wasn’t a messy, hurried kiss—it was slow, tentative at first, like they were both still unsure. But the moment their lips met, everything else in the world faded away. James’s heart raced with relief, and maybe with a little bit of fear too, but he didn’t care. This felt right. More than right. This was what he had been waiting for.
Sirius’s hands slid to the back of James’s neck, pulling him in closer, deepening the kiss as if they had been doing this forever. James’s hands went to Sirius’s waist, pulling him in, needing more. The flowers—those stupid, ridiculous flowers—didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was this. The feel of Sirius against him. The way their lips moved together, soft and slow, as if they both wanted to savor this moment for as long as they could.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with something new—something they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel until now.
James couldn’t stop grinning, even though his heart was still beating wildly in his chest. He looked at Sirius, who was smiling just as broadly, his hair even more tousled than usual.
"So," James said, his voice a little hoarse, "this is... happening?"
Sirius laughed, brushing a lock of hair out of his face. "Yeah, I’d say so." He grinned mischievously. "But, just so you know, I still expect you to do something about those flowers."
James rolled his eyes, a laugh bubbling up from his chest. "Oh, I’ll *do* something, alright."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Good. Because I’m not going to let you off easy."
James just pulled him in for another kiss, laughing against his lips. "You’re impossible."
"And you’re *finally* mine," Sirius replied with a wink, before leaning in again, this time not holding back.
And this time, James didn’t care about the flowers, the secret admirer, or anyone else. All that mattered was that he was with Sirius. Finally.
And it felt like everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.