Truth or dare
The Quidditch match against Ravenclaw had been exhilarating, and James Potter was, as usual, the star of the show. The crowd’s cheers still rang in his ears as he stepped off the pitch, heart pounding with adrenaline and pride. Gryffindor had won, and that meant one thing: a party in the common room tonight.
As night fell, James made his way to the dormitory, grinning to himself. He pushed the door open and immediately froze. Sirius Black was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting his leather jacket, his long black hair cascading down his shoulders like some kind of rockstar out of a muggle magazine. And then there was Remus, his worn-out sweater replaced with a white shirt and black trousers that clung to his slender frame, his soft brown eyes glinting under the low light. He looked like a fallen angel.
Why were his friends so unfairly hot?
“Bloody hell,” James muttered under his breath as Peter emerged from the bathroom, his blonde hair styled back, looking like a prince from some fairy tale.
James cleared his throat and excused himself, muttering something about needing to get ready. He quickly changed into something a little more polished—just enough to match his effortlessly stylish friends—and then they all descended the stairs together, heading to the Gryffindor common room.
As they entered, the party was already in full swing. The room was packed with students, the air buzzing with laughter and excitement. Fresh bottles of firewhisky lined the tables, and the smell of butterbeer wafted through the room.
James scanned the crowd and his eyes landed on Lily Evans. She was wearing a green dress that perfectly matched her brilliant eyes, and for a moment, James’s heart stopped. She looked incredible. But it wasn’t just her. Mary Macdonald stood beside her, in a deep red dress that made her look like an Egyptian princess, her dark hair pulled back with a shimmering headband. Marlene McKinnon, always radiant, wore a purple dress with golden accessories, her smile lighting up the room.
For a moment, James considered how lucky he was to be surrounded by such beautiful, confident people. But then he remembered his friends beside him—Sirius, Remus, and Peter—who were no less dazzling in their own way. They were all, quite frankly, ridiculous.
The music started, and the party kicked off. Firewhisky flowed freely, laughter echoed off the walls, and someone had conjured enchanted sparklers that danced around the ceiling.
James made his way over to where Sirius and Remus were standing, deep in conversation. “What are you two on about?” he asked, grinning as he grabbed a drink.
“Just talking about how bloody long you take to get ready,” Sirius teased, his eyes gleaming mischievously.
Remus chuckled softly. “You should have seen the mirror conversation he had with himself,” he added, giving James a playful nudge.
James rolled his eyes. “Oh, please, like you two don’t spend hours trying to look ‘effortlessly cool,’” he shot back, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was still marveling at how perfect everything felt right now. The win, the party, the feeling of being on top of the world.
Peter appeared beside them, looking more confident than usual, a grin plastered on his face as he handed out fresh drinks. “Cheers, to Gryffindor!”
They raised their glasses and clinked them together, the sound of glass meeting glass getting lost in the roar of laughter from across the room. The party raged on, and soon enough, the teasing escalated. Sirius, being Sirius, couldn’t resist. He pulled Remus closer, his arm slung casually around his shoulder, and smirked in that infuriating way that made James want to shake him and laugh at the same time.
“You know, Moony,” Sirius began, his voice dripping with fake sincerity, “I think it’s time for a dance.”
Remus groaned, trying to wriggle free. “Absolutely not. I don’t dance.”
But Sirius wouldn’t have it. “Nonsense. We all saw your moves last time—don’t pretend you didn’t steal the show.”
Before Remus could protest further, Sirius had dragged him into the crowd. James watched, laughing to himself as Sirius twirled Remus around in a dramatic, exaggerated fashion. Remus, despite himself, was smiling.
“Bet Remus ends up enjoying it,” Peter muttered beside James, shaking his head in amusement.
“Five galleons says you’re right,” James replied, sipping his drink.
The music shifted into something more upbeat, and the common room buzzed with energy. James felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Marlene grinning at him.
“Come on, Potter, we’re playing truth or dare,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
James raised an eyebrow. “Truth or dare? Really?”
“Oh, shut up and play,” she teased, pulling him toward the group gathering near the fireplace.
Soon enough, they were all huddled together—Lily, Mary, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James—along with a few other Gryffindors. The fire crackled warmly, and the game began. Dares were issued, truths were spilled, and by the time it was Sirius’s turn, everyone was in high spirits.
“Truth or dare, Black?” Marlene asked, narrowing her eyes.
Sirius grinned. “Dare, obviously.”
“I dare you…” Marlene thought for a moment before a mischievous smile spread across her face. “…to kiss the person you like the most in this room.”
James’s eyes widened, and he exchanged a quick glance with Remus, who had turned a little pink. Sirius, ever the showman, didn’t even hesitate. He stood up, looked around dramatically, and then—surprising no one but still making everyone gasp—leaned down and pressed a quick, playful kiss to Remus’s cheek.
The room erupted in laughter and cheers, and Remus looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. Sirius just winked and sat back down, looking utterly pleased with himself.
The night wore on, and as the firewhisky flowed, the conversations grew louder, and the teasing escalated. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this carefree. But as the party
The party showed no signs of slowing down. Laughter filled the Gryffindor common room, and despite Sirius’s bold dare, most people laughed it off as just another joke between best friends. Even Remus seemed to brush it aside, as if Sirius’s teasing kiss was nothing more than that—a lighthearted prank. But James, though drunk and dizzy, couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something more.
Sitting by the fire, James felt the weight of the evening pressing down on him. He was well past tipsy—no, he was completely drunk, his thoughts spinning in circles. Every blink felt like a struggle to stay conscious. His limbs were heavy, his head buzzing with alcohol, and the room seemed to tilt slightly with every movement.
He needed fresh air.
Stumbling toward the door, James tried to navigate his way out of the common room, but Peter caught sight of him. “Hey, Prongs, where are you going?” Peter’s voice sounded distant, muffled by the haze in James’s mind.
“Just going for a walk,” James slurred, barely coherent, before slipping out of the room.
The cool night air hit him as he staggered through the corridors of Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but his feet seemed to lead him up the stairs, higher and higher until he found himself at the Astronomy Tower. His head was pounding, but as he reached the top, he saw a figure standing there, leaning against the stone railing. A soft plume of smoke curled up from a cigarette in his hand.
“Angel,” James muttered, his breath hitching as he stared at the figure bathed in moonlight.
The boy turned, his sharp features illuminated by the pale glow of the moon. His silver eyes narrowed slightly as he recognized James. “You again?” Regulus Black’s voice was cold, but his gaze softened with curiosity. What was Potter doing here, of all places?
James was far too drunk to process the sharp tone. “Don’t leave me alone, Reggie,” he slurred, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His heart hammered in his chest—he hadn’t meant to say that.
Regulus arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “James Fleamont Potter,” he said, his voice deadly serious, “if you don’t sober up and get the hell out of here, I’m going to hex you.”
But James wasn’t hearing clearly. His world was spinning, and his thoughts felt like they were slipping away, as if he was losing control of everything. He moved closer to Regulus, unable to focus, but also unable to tear his eyes away from the boy in front of him.
“Regulus Arcturus Black,” James said, mocking the formal tone, “if you don’t come home with me, I’m gonna… I don’t know what, but I’m not going to be happy.”
Regulus sighed, his frustration palpable, but there was something deeper in his voice. “Look, Potter, I don’t hate you,” he said quietly, his words surprisingly honest. “In fact, I respect you—for helping Sirius. But you can’t save everyone.”
James barely heard him. His vision blurred, not just from the alcohol, but from something else entirely. Regulus Black, standing there under the moonlight, was something out of a dream. His skin glowed softly, like porcelain kissed by the stars, the shadows playing against the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, shimmered like silver pools, reflecting the light of the moon. His dark hair, tousled by the night breeze, framed his face perfectly, making him look ethereal, untouchable—like something out of a myth, like a dark angel fallen to earth.
James felt his breath hitch. Regulus was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, and in that moment, he was all James could see. His heart pounded in his chest, drowning out whatever Regulus was saying. His lips moved, but the words were lost in the night. All James could do was stare, captivated by the sight of him, as if the very essence of the night had come alive in Regulus’s presence.
And then everything went black.
When James woke up, the world was a blur of white sheets and the strong smell of antiseptic. He blinked, trying to focus, but his head throbbed with the sharp pain of a hangover.
“Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey’s stern voice cut through the fog, “underage drinking? Really? I expected better.”
James groaned, his memory coming back in flashes. The party, the Astronomy Tower, Regulus… Had any of that really happened?
He rubbed his eyes and mumbled something incoherent as Pomfrey handed him a potion for his hangover. As he sipped it, his mind wandered back to the tower, to the way Regulus had looked under the moonlight. He wasn’t sure if it had been real or just a drunken dream.
But one thing was certain: Regulus Black had left an impression that James couldn’t shake.