“Crucio! ”
James ducked down, the bright red spell flying over his head and shattering into one of the stone columns behind him with a loud snap.
Another swish of his own wand sent the attacker flying backwards, but James barely had the time to feel relief before another group of dark figures emerged from behind the corner down the hall.
“Just how many of these bastards are there?” James growled under his breath, whipping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he turned to face them.
They’ve been holding this passage for the last thirty minutes, and the Death Eaters reinforcements just kept coming.
“St-stupefy! ” Peter’s terrified voice carried over to him from behind, the sound almost swallowed by the noise around them.
His spell slowly glided across the room, then filtered out into nothing, a few stray embers falling down at the feet of one of the newcomers.
A red-clothed Death Eater grinned, his stark white teeth visible under the edge of his mask as he glanced up from the sorry excuse of a spell. “Is this a joke? There’s only three of them. Why were we even called in?”
James’ eyes flitted to Sirius, lips pulling into a dangerous smile.
Sure, they might have been stuck here for now, but that also meant the Death Eaters were struck here with them.
“Watch out…” croaked one of the dark figures on the ground, but it was too late.
The gaggle of Death Eaters shrieked in surprise as a blue light too fast to block rushed between the remaining fighters all the way to the red-clothed wizard, singing his sleeve down to the skin.
The Red Bastard howled in pain, immediately sending out curses as the new Death Eaters dispersed, joining in the fight.
James easily deflected the first array of curses, grinning. “Nice one, Sirius!”
“P-please don’t make it worse,” Peter’s plaintive voice carried over to him from where he was trying to hide behind a large pillar, but James paid it no mind.
“Get them!” shrieked the one James had dubbed Red Bastard in his head, gesturing wildly in the air.
He had a weird tattoo on his exposed hand, something that looked like a snake, but the rest of it was hidden with the signed remains of his robe. James figured it was for the best, he wasn’t interested in the latest Death Eaters fashion choices, but he made a mental note to mention the tattoo to Kingsley, in case it could help with identification. There couldn't be that many bastards with such obnoxious tatooes.
Provided, of course, that he and the Red Bastard survived this match. James wouldn’t bet on Red’s chances.
He evaded a nasty looking black curse headed his way, flinging it back at one of the Death Eaters to the side, then sent a few jinxes towards a limping guy trying to disarm Peter.
His head spun a little as he quickly turned back. The fight was getting disorienting, the Death eaters trying their best to attack them from the side, forcing them away from each other and into the way of incoming spells.
He gripped his wand tighter. “Confringo!”
Two of the new Death Eaters leaped out of the way, but James was counting on that, wrist already moving.
The next spell stung the larger one in the arm, making him drop his wand with a pained yelp.
He quickly scrambled to grab it again, but a large, blazing orange orb hit him before his fingers could even graze it, sending him staggering backwards.
The other Death Eater that was just trying to get up from the floor let out an angry yell as the tall one collided with him, sending them both sprawling.
Another Death Eater jumped in to take their place. James’ fingers spasmed with exhaustion around his wand, dull pain shooting all the way to his elbow, but he refused to address it. There was no time.
“To the left,” Sirius called over to him, his sharp voice easily carrying over the sounds of the battle.
Without hesitation, James sidestepped. A sharp gust of wind whooshed past him, tugging on his clothes and hair.
With a loud snap, it ran straight into a Death Eater that was trying to sneak up on him, throwing him backwards.
James smirked, then sent another set of spells to the side when a short Death Eater with a silver mask moved to Sirius’ blind spot.
The masked woman staggered, but deflected with a wand arch of her wand. The set of hexes instead connected with the ceiling, dust and bits of rubble raining down.
“Expulso!” James called out, sending another curse into the dust cloud, but he knew before the witch even reflected it that it was too weak and easy to redirect.
He cursed inwardly; now wasn’t the time to get tired. Gritting his teeth, he shouted out another spell, putting as much power behind as he could.
The witch fell unconscious on the floor, her mask shattering upon hitting the marble.
“Prongs!” Sirius suddenly shouted, and before James could even blink, he was barrelling onto him, sending them both to the floor.
They hit the ground in a painful tangle of limbs, James’ head smashing loudly against the stone cold ground. It felt as if all air was pushed out of his lungs, sharp pain blooming at the back of his head.
A curse spilled past Sirius’ lips, his eyes flitting over James’ face with palpable concern, his face pale. “James, are you okay?”
“Yeah,” James responded, still a little dazed as he gazed up at Sirius hovering above him, “it didn’t hit-”
“Someone fucking kill them already!” shouted the Red Bastard, his angry voice echoing too loudly in James’ ears, ringing around in his head like the bells of the Astrology Tower back in Hogwarts.
Another set of curses flew over them.
Gritting his teeth, Sirius rolled them over, his lips pressed into a thin line, but expression carefully levelled.
“Guys!” Peter shouted, an octave higher than usual.
James pushed back onto his heels and then to his feet, blocking another curse headed towards them.
He glanced towards Peter who was widely gesturing towards the end of the hall, and when James turned his head, he realised another set of Death Eaters was running out, their wands already drawn.
Sweet Merlin, how many of these lowlifes did Voldemort manage to recruit? What even was in the vault that Dumbledore needed so badly? And why was Voldemort so desperate to stop the Order from having it?
At the edge of his vision, he noticed Sirius somehow still hadn’t gotten up.
Puzzled and worried, James quickly stepped in front of him, shielding him and sending Red Bastard’s nasty looking curse back to him.
The idiot didn’t seem to expect it, his hastily-made shield shattering upon the impact.
The black curse engulfed his face, and Red shrieked, loud and terrified as if something was eating him alive. It felt strangely gratifying.
Making sure no one was in the immediate vicinity to stung him in the back, he quickly leaned down to extend a hand towards Sirius, a wordless question in his eyes.
Whatever strange expression was at Sirius’ face seemed to melt away behind his usual indifference, his lips tilting slightly upwards as James pulled him to his feet.
“Alright?” James asked, unable to let go of the worry still squeezing around his heart like tendrils of Devil's Snare.
“Yeah.” Sirius nodded, his eyes flitting away.
James followed his gaze, but he didn’t see any danger in that direction. A frown settled on his face, but before he could say anything else, Sirius squeezed his shoulder, already moving past.
“Let’s get back into the fight before they slaughter Peter,” he uttered over his shoulder and James let out a quiet, relieved chuckle, following him back into the fight.
It took another twenty minutes before the other Order members came, and when Dumbledore’s purple robes appeared in the doorway at the end of the corridor, Peter looked like he could cry with relief.
As the other wizards ran past them to get rid of the remaining Death Eaters, James finally let down his wand, a sequence of small tremors running through his arm.
The bodies of several unconscious or unresponsive Death Eaters lined the floor, scattered around the fallen rubble like leaves on autumn grass. Some were scrambling to apparate away, but there would be multiple that would be arrested or buried today.
James hid away his wand, the tips of his fingers almost numb from the constant pressure. He tried to force his lungs to expand, forcing himself to stop breathing in those annoyingly small and shallow gasps as the fight ranged on ahead.
The rest of the fight happened in a bit of haze. The Death Eaters were heavily outnumbered, many of them already tired from multiple attempts to get across the hallway, and they were no match for the freshly rested forces of the Order.
James wasn't sure how long it really was, but it felt like minutes until an older looking witch James belatedly recognised as McKinnon, one of the Aurors, promptly apparated him and Sirius back to the Potter Manor.
She was gone before James could do much more than get out an exhausted 'thank you', gently but firmly saying she needed to report back to Dumbledore to help him with his ‘find’.
James seriously doubted he’d ever get to hear what the thing actually was, and he found out that, at the moment, he didn’t particularly care. He just wanted to shower and then go to sleep for the next ten hours; it was nearing midnight already, and they had been on high alert the whole day.
His shoulders relaxed as he looked around the familiar living room, some of the tension leaving him as the last adrenaline from the fight drifted away.
There was still some of that cake his mum made in the fridge, wasn’t there? Her and Fleamont were currently travelling the Scottish countryside, reminiscing about their youth, but Euphemia had left the cake for them to enjoy while they were away. James didn’t complain, even though he had already pestered his mum to teach him the recipe long ago.
Yeah, a piece as a reward for the hard day couldn’t hurt, he decided, and that, of course, was exactly when everything went wrong.
“You,” James gritted out furiously, hand fisting in Sirius’ robes, “are a fucking idiot.”
Sirius’ lips slowly tilted into a small, barely there smile. “I know.”
“This isn’t funny, Sirius,” James growled, bringing him even closer to himself, until their noses were almost touching. “What if that was me, huh? Would you prefer I just kept on fighting, pretending like there wasn’t a bloody damned hole in my stomach?”
Displeasure flickered in Sirius’ eyes. “Now you’re the one being stupid.”
James gritted his teeth, then swallowed down all the angry things he wanted to spew out, pushing Sirius back onto the closed toilet seat instead. The surface was already turning red just from Sirius sitting on it, dark drops running down the white porcelain, and James felt his throat constrict painfully.
“Just stay still.” He settled on harshly and quickly started to rummage the cupboard under the sink for an emergency healing kit.
They’ve started keeping them ever since joining the Order, and as James’ fingers closed around the familiar box, he was glad for that idea more than ever.
He couldn’t even imagine - No. He firmly told himself. Don’t imagine it.It doesn’t matter that you’re too exhausted to apparate and get any healer, because you won’t be needing them. This is fine. It’ll be fine.
He felt Sirius’ heavy gaze on his back as he struggled to open the box, fingers too numb and shaking.
“James.”
Get yourself together, he snapped at himself, sucking in a deep breath through his teeth.
“James. I… wasn’t thinking.”
His throat constricted further at the dejected tone of Sirius’ voice, but he refused to acknowledge the words, stubbornly focusing on opening the box. Staying angry was easier than focusing the pressure he felt building behind his eyes. Safer.
“...I’m sorry.”
James’ head snapped to him on its own volition, brown eyes going wide. He heard Sirius say ‘I’m sorry’ only once, and that was the night he ran away from home,the words whispered into James’ neck as his body shook with suppressed sobs.
The feeling of wrongness that suddenly arose in him was nauseating.
“Don’t,” James snapped, then winced when the expression on Sirius’ face shattered further.
“No, I mean, don’t apologise. It’s, damn it,” - he cursed, frustratedly carding a hand through his hair - “I want you to be sorry, because you’re an idiot to hide a wound like that, but…”
Sirius’ eyes flitted back to him, his gaze tentative.
James tugged hard on the strands of his hair, frustrated. “But don’t apologise, not to me. I hate that.” His lips tilted into a rueful smile. “I guess we’re both stupid after all.”
James felt his eyes were starting to sting again and quickly turned away, blinking furiously to get rid of the stubborn tears. He busied himself with grabbing the potion he wanted and a set of bandages, then stood up, handing the liquid over.
“Drink.”
The Blood-Replenishing Potion sploshed against its vial as Sirius wordlessly knocked it back.
He’s still too pale, James thought worriedly, watching him dutifully swallow all the contents.
When Sirius pulled the vial away, wiping at his mouth with a disgusted frown on his face, he had already readied the bandage, squinting slightly at the wound on Sirius’ torso. Even though he knew he had already done as many healing spells as he could have - in the maniacal panic he felt when Sirius suddenly fainted in the middle of their kitchen - but he still felt the nonsensical need to reach for his wand.
“You’ll need to take off your robes,” James told him and Sirius nodded a little, swaying dangerously to the side as he tried to move. The potion hadn’t yet kicked in.
James’ hands steadied him and Sirius blinked slowly, then once again, as if only now realising he had been off balance.
“Still with me, Pads?” James whispered, squeezing his shoulders slightly as he leaned in closer, worried eyes flitting over Sirius’ face.
“Yeah…” Sirius blinked again, gaze slightly dazed as he stared back at James. “Of course.”
James felt the edge of his lips pull up into a small smile. “Good.”
Sirius nodded slightly, eyes never leaving his.
James stared back for a moment longer, then abruptly cleared his throat. “Okay. Let me help you out of these, we need to clean the wound as well. I’m not leaving anything to chance.”
“I can do it myself,” Sirius protested, but James made a doubtful sound deep in his throat, fingers already tugging the edge of the robe down.
“Uhuh, try telling me that when you’re not still bleeding on my toilet.”
“Our toilet.”
James huffed out an amused breath, eyes fond. “Sure.”
After carefully removing Sirius’ robe, James felt some of the worry painfully tightened around his heart subside. The wound was still painful to look at, matted with dark blood, but it was clear it had started to close up, the spells already well working its way.
Wetting the rag in a sink, James slowly stepped in between Sirius’ parted legs, carefully wiping the blood away. He tried to be gentle, but he could still feel Sirius growing tense under him, the muscles on his stomach jumping under each graze of the rag.
“Here,” James finally said after all the skin had been cleared, turning back to the sink, the strange heaviness in the air making it hard to speak. “Now we only have to wait to make sure it’s really healing.”
The sound of running water filled the room as he turned on the faucet, the sound strangely loud after the previous silence. “You’re definitely not getting out of drinking another set of that potion though, I don’t care for any puppy eyes-”
From behind him, Sirius suddenly cursed under his breath. James swirled around, heart already kicking into a panicked overdrive. Did the wound re-open? Was the spell actually a curse with an offset start, only kicking in when the victim was already feeling safe? Was the healing not enough to -
“I’m fine,” Sirius said, voice muffled by the fist he was holding to his nose, blood freely spilling down his fingers and falling on his dirtied trousers.
For a moment, the sight of blood spilling heavily down his chin and arm made James’ world spin.
A nosebleed, he assured himself, a little hysterically. Just a nosebleed.
James let out a deep breath, his whole body shuttering. This was fine, totally fine. Just more blood upon all the blood Sirius had already lost. And it was not stopping - Right. He had a wand.
He reached for the wand he had set on the edge of the bath earlier but Sirius’ other hand shot out, stopping him.
“It’s just a damned nosebleed, Prongs. Don’t exhaust yourself any further.”
“I’m fine.” James replied stubbornly, but Sirius lifted his brow, pointedly looking towards the hand in his grip.
Back of his neck warm, James realised his fingers hadn't stopped trembling since Sirius fell down.
“We’re both stupid, remember?” Sirius said, letting him go to lean back in the seat with barely hidden exhaustion. “Just hand me some toilet paper.”
James quickly gathered enough to ball it into a wad, then moved Sirius’ hand away when he tried to reach for it, instead gently bringing it to Sirius’ face and stopping the blood flow.
“James…” Sirius protested, his voice weak, as if he was both embarrassed and touched.
“What,” James challenged, lifting his chin. “You have a problem with this?”
Grey eyes stared at him, before pointedly looking away. “...No.”
“Then sit still for me.”
A shudder seemed to run through Sirius’ body and James frowned, eyes jumping to Sirius’ exposed torso. He must have been cold. The air in the bathroom was chilly, the marble floor beneath cold as ice and Sirius was sitting there, his whole upper body exposed.
He hurriedly grabbed Sirius’ hand, pushing it against the crumpled paper. “Hold this, alright? I’ll get you something warm.”
Sirius made a non-committal noise, but he did press the wad of toilet paper to his still-bleeding nose, so James counted it as a win. Morgana herself knew that if Sirius Black didn’t care to do something, he wouldn’t.
Back at Hogwarts, Remus used to joke James was the only one able to make him do something he didn’t want to, which both didn’t sit right with him and pleased him at the same time.
He liked being the only one Sirius considered in his decisions, but he was no master of him - there could never be anyone like that for the force of nature that was Sirius Black. James very well knew that it was only because he didn’t blindly push Sirius into something he knew he didn’t want to do or care for, that Sirius decided to meet him half-way.
During both their school years and their training in the Order, everyone always called them inseparable, joking that whatever one went, the other always had to follow. James didn’t think that was true. Yes, they were inseparable, but not in the way people seemed to think.
With Sirius, he didn’t have to do anything, he always wanted to. They weren’t pulling at ends of a rope, one always dragging the other behind; they were always already headed in the same direction. Inseparable, in the way that meant saying both their names in the same breath, in a way that meant they were always the first pair of names jotted down on the Order’s mission rouster, even if neither of them was present for the meeting.
If Sirius ever got hurt like today and went down… James wouldn’t want to leave the battle. He was not sure he’d be able to. He’d only want to live long enough to take the bastard who cursed Sirius, and even if he survived beyond that, he’d never be the same, part of him always gone, already behind the veil, living on in the form of a black dog excitedly running through a forest.
He squeezed his teeth together, forcing the dull ache to pull him back into reality. Sirius was fine. He was alive and he needed his care and attention now. He could freak out later.
Suddenly worried he was gone for too long, he quickly grabbed a robe and the nearest blanket he could find and rushed back to the bathroom, only remembering to slow down his steps on the threshold.
By the look Sirius shot him from his seat, he didn’t seem as casual as he hoped. The paper pushed to his nose was new but already colouring dark red again, and James forgot about any attempts to seem unbothered, rushing the last few steps ahead.
“Still not slowing down?”
Sirius’ black hair swayed slightly around his face as he gave a minute shake of his head. “It’s getting better.”
“Doesn’t look that way,” James replied, leaning closer to inspect the damage. Sirius turned away, his fingers around the tissue tightening.
“Really,” he added after a moment, noticing the still worried expression on James’ face. “It’s probably just the Blood-Replenishing Potion. Gives me way too much blood to let out now.”
“You mean blood that should stay in your body.”
Sirius shrugged a little. “Same thing.”
James chuckled, finally setting the blanket on the sink and unfolding the robe. “If Madam Pomfrey could hear you now, she’d have an aneurysm.”
Sirius’ eyes danced with amusement. “I don’t know, I kind of think she has heard worse.”
He shifted slightly to help James pull the robe on, looking resigned to being helped again.
James was aware there weren’t many people he’d allow to do so, and the feeling warmed him from the inside as he focused on pulling Sirius’ other arm through one of the dark sleeves. It was one of Sirius’ favourite robes, dark red with golden embroidery on the sleeves that resembled high-reaching flames. It used to be James’ before Sirius (not very subtly) stole it for himself. The material was soft and warm, and most importantly, comfortably worn-out.
“Sadly you might be right.” He quipped right back. “The Infirmary gossip is not for the fainthearted.”
Sirius’ lips tilted into a smile, his breath strangely stuttering as James crossed the edges of the robe in front, fingers trailing down his sides to find the belt. The wound must have been acting up again.
“Just a second,” he reassured him. The belt had gotten tangled up.
James reached out around Sirius, bringing them even closer together. Sirius’ legs seemed to part on their own to allow James easier access and he gratefully stepped in closer, fingers sliding around Sirius’ waist and trying to untangle the damned thing.
“There.” He finally leaned back a little, tying the belt, careful not to pull too tight as to pull on Sirius’ wound.
A quick critical look-over told him, it was fine, and he was glad Sirius wouldn’t feel too cold now, but he couldn't shake the last remains of worry away. It would probably take him days to forget the sight of Sirius’ blood on his hands. Speaking of-
“Don’t stop pressing on it,” he told Sirius, noticing the hand pressing wad of tissues to his nose had fallen down.
He glanced up, unsure what was the problem, only now noticing the slightly shell-shocked expression to Sirius’ face, grey eyes wide and dark.
James fought through the sudden need to swallow, his throat suddenly dry. He…was standing too close wasn’t he? All his hovering was probably starting to be annoying; James didn't mean to make him feel like child unable to take care of himself.
The problem was, James always wanted to be close to Sirius, touching him, that sometimes he didn’t even realise he had moved.
But... moving back would only make it more obvious now, wouldn’t it? There was nothing weird about this unless he made it weird. This was just normal James and Sirius, nothing to see here.
Trying to seem unbothered, he shot Sirius a smile, taking the blanket off the sink and easily stepping back in between Sirius’ legs, as if nothing was going on.
“There,” He smoothed the blanket down Sirius’ shoulders, “now you should feel a bit warmer.”
Feeling strangely exposed under Sirius’ intense gaze, he nodded his head towards the bleeding. “How is it?”
Finally looking away, Sirius slowly brought the paper away from his face. Matted blood covered his skin all the way down to his lips and chin, but to James’ relief, at least it didn’t seem to be freely flowing anymore.
He only realised he’d reached for Sirius’ face when his fingers touched the cold skin, silver eyes snapping back to him with sudden intensity.
Forgetting about his earlier resolution, James quickly stepped back, his hand falling down.
“Right,” he laughed a little, the sound too weak and panicked even to his own ears. “You probably want to wipe that off.”
Sirius tilted his head a little, looking at himself in the mirror. “Seeing as it’s not Halloween yet, yeah, I wouldn’t protest.”
“Right,” James repeated, a little dumbly, his thoughts stuck on the way Sirius’ hair fell around his face and onto his shoulders, somehow managing to look regal even after an intense fight and two bloodied wounds.
Realising he was staring again, he promptly turned back to the sink, the back of his neck burning slightly.
It was only as his eyes met Sirius’ intense gaze in the mirror that he realised turning forward to a reflective surface wasn’t actually going to hide him as well as he hoped. Truly, sometimes he felt as if someone hit him with a Stupefy when talking to Sirius.
Most of the time, everything felt easy, even his worst jokes succeeding in amusing him, his craziest ideas finding understanding and agreement. Other times, it felt like he would get stuck on the simplest thing, the sound of Sirius’ genuine laugh, the shape of his long fingers, the look in his eyes when he was casting a particularly powerful spell or easily revealing obscure magical knowledge that no one else knew about.
He didn’t know what to do with it, because there wasn’t anything wrong with it either. It has always been happening.
The water warmed his hands as he wetted another clean rag.
There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, he reminded himself as he stepped in between Sirius’ legs, trying to seem calm, it was only Sirius.
That, of course, was half the problem. There was no ‘only’ when it came to his best friend.
The dark blood on Sirius’ face made him freeze for a second, his heart once again constricting painfully. The image of Sirius staggering appeared in front of his eyes again, of pulling his robes open only to see the bloody mess beneath, fresh red oozing out of the wound in worrying amounts. His pale face. James’ own hands wet with Sirius’ blood-
“Prongs.”
James blinked. He hadn’t realised he stopped moving, the rag halfway outstretched between him and Sirius.
He was intending to hand it to him, not wanting to smother him or act like Sirius was too weak to take care of himself when he could have fought another seven Death Eaters off with a stomach wound, but Sirius only looked at him expectantly, not moving to take it.
“Yeah?” he answered instinctively, taking another step closer, and Sirius stared up at him for a moment, before slowly, slowly moving forward until his face was held in the cup of James’ outstretched hand, the soft cloth touching his cheek.
James’ breath caught a little in his throat at the obvious display of trust. It felt a little like Padfoot nuzzling up to him after a long Full Moon, when Sirius was still too wired to turn back, and James couldn’t the way his lips twitched into a smile.
He felt grateful for the gesture, the act pulling him back to the present, away from the horrible possibilities of not realising what was going on soon enough.
“I’m tired, don’t want to do all the work.” Sirius remarked casually, except James knew him too well, his smile spreading.
Sirius’ eyes seemed to grow softer at the sight.
“Careful,” James finally replied after a moment, unable to pull his eyes away. “Or I might complain to mum that you’re taking advantage of me.”
There was an amused tilt to Sirius’ lip as he scoffed. “No way. Auntie loves me.”
“She does. So you better not do this again or I will set her running for you, got it?”
Sirius grimaced. “Noted.”
Satisfied, James smirked. He knew that would work more than any other threat. Sirius adored his parents as much as they adored him. A fact that made him feel warm on the inside whenever he thought about it.
He started with the arch of Sirius’ cheekbone, dragging the wet cloth lower, down to his cheek, where Sirius had accidentally smeared the blood when trying to stop it from spilling.
Carefully, he mapped out the elegant lines of Sirius’s nose, trying to move gently, so as to not irritate the skin any further and cause another bleeding. The wet, slightly warm cloth then moved further down, as if drawing the line of Sirius’ sharp chin.
Feeling strangely out of breath, James turned back to the sink, rinsing the washcloth until the water turned soft pink, then ran clear. James knew he probably should have let Sirius finish the thing himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.
Not when Sirius had all but nuzzled into his hand like that. Not when he kept looking at him with those eyes full of trust as James moved back from the sink to lean over him again.
“Feeling dizzy?” he asked and Sirius shook his head slightly, black hair falling around his face with the sort of effortless grace James never saw anyone else ever reproduce, his eyes never leaving James’ face.
James cleared his throat, moving another step closer. The warmth rising from the cloth was enough to warm his fingers as he gently brought it up to clean under Sirius’ nose.
When he moved to swipe across his lips, James faltered for a second, then swallowed and continued.
Sirius’ breath seemed to still as James ran the warm cloth over the seam of his lips, and James found himself mirroring him, his fingertips tingling with the need to touch, fully, without the stupid rag getting in his way.
Sirius’ lips seemed to part under his touch and James swallowed again, unable to not lean in even closer.
“Prongs,” Sirius whispered, eyes dark.
“Padfoot,” James whispered back, no louder than a breath. The cloth seemed to slip from his hands, soundlessly falling upon the ground. Neither of them spared it even a semblance of a glance.
With bated breath, James leaned in even further, until his forehead quietly bumped into Sirius’.
There was a fond tilt to Sirius’ mouth.
“I’m feeling a bit dizzy now,” he said quietly into the air between them, and James chuckled, even as his heart continued to beat louder. He had never been so scared - he never wanted to do anything more.
Warm, silver eyes flickered over his face beneath dark eye-lashes before they steeled with hard determination that James only ever saw when Sirius was gearing up for a fight.
Between one blink and the next, soft lips landed upon his. The raging tsunami of relief and happiness that washed over him felt like it could swallow him whole.
James’ fingers tangled into the silky soft hair he had only ever dreamt of touching like this, and he felt Sirius shiver, his hand on the back of James’ neck tightening slightly, bringing them even further together.
A sharp tangle ran the back of James’ spine as Sirius’ tongue tentatively touched the seam of his lips. It felt - he couldn’t believe that - Sirius - Padfoot - his best friend -
James’ knees buckled, his mind a mess of blazing thoughts. Sirius’ steadied him, hands almost reverently circling around his waist. They parted, only for the pressing need of air, and then crashed together again in a flurry of soft, trembling touches.
A shaky breath left his lips as they parted, both panting. Sirius’ eyes shone with obvious concern, yet they were brighter than James had ever seen them, lit with tentative, disbelieving hope.
“Alright?” he asked quietly, uncharacteristically unsure.
James beamed, moving closer until their foreheads were pressing together again. “Bloody brilliant.”
The blinding, dizzying smile that lit up Sirius’ face ran through James like a warm lightning.
He surged up again, their lips meeting.