It's Your Birthday
WEDNESDAY. NOVEMBER 3, 1971
“My turn.” James knocks Sirius’ wand with his own, abruptly breaking the spell Sirius had cast on Yaxley’s fork. It clatters to the table, drawing attention from the students around him. James snickers at the sight. Sirius thumps him on the back of his head, which only makes James giggle harder.
“Numpty,” Sirius says, though he’s grinning nearly as wide as James. James pokes him in the side with the end of his wand in return. Sirius bats him away, laughter finally bubbling up from his stomach. James glows, triumphant.
“It’s my turn.” He repeats.
Sirius rolls his eyes, but he lowers his wand regardless. “Have at it.” He swishes his hand in the general direction of the Slytherin tables.
James scans over the students. Yaxley and Lucius Malfoy are arguing about something. Sirius’ cousin is next to Lucius. She looks put out. James’ gaze trails down the row to the younger students. Bertram Aubrey and his little girlfriend are together, of course. James contemplates Aubrey as a victim for a moment. But he decides against it after spotting Severus.
Snape is laughing at something Bruce Mulciber said. James doesn’t like Bruce Mulciber out of sheer principle. He’s a berk. It makes sense that Snape might cosy up with him.
“Wingardium Leviosa.” With a flick of James’ wand, Severus’ sandwich lifts just a few centimeters. It hovers there for a moment. James glances at Sirius, who only nods.
Slowly, very slowly, Snape’s egg and cress sandwich disassembles itself, insides spilling out onto the floor until it was simply two slices of moist bread piled atop one another.
“Alright. Alright. My turn.” Sirius manually lowers James’ wand. James obliges.
Sirius’ bright eyes dart back to Lucius and Narcissa. He’s raised his wand, spell on his lips, but, then, he freezes. James follows his gaze to find Narcissa staring right back at them. His hands go cold.
“What’s she looking at?” He whispers. Precisely why he chooses to whisper is anyone’s guess. It’s not as if she’d be able to hear him from all the way across the Great Hall.
Sirius has put his wand away. “It’s nothing.” He shakes his head. His thin mouth curls into the shadow of a frown. “She can’t possibly know what I was about to do. Don’t worry so much.”
James snorts. “I don’t worry.” He says.
That much is true. James Potter does not waste any precious time worrying. Why should he when there are loads more exciting things to do? Peter does the worrying for both of them, he reckons.
Sirius looks unamused. He turns away from James and begins furiously cutting his crepe.
“What is it?” James asks.
Sirius huffs. “Mind your own business if you aren’t worried.”
His icy tone startles James– just for a moment, not a second longer. Sirius can be a churlish creature where his family is involved. If James weren’t so certain Sirius could be great fun, he’d probably have been put out by that quality ages ago. As it is, though, abandoning the quest to befriend Sirius Black simply isn’t an option. James likes him far too much for that. He likes the version of Sirius he sees more often than not lately, at least. So, he changes the subject.
“I thought I might join a club,” James says brightly, attending to his own meal at last.
The crease between Sirius’ brow smooths over. James mentally tallies his victory.
“They won’t let you on the bench,” Sirius says.
James flicks a pea at him. “I’m not talking about Quidditch, you knob.”
“Pardon?”
“I thought I might join the frog choir,” James says.
Sirius’ eyes immediately start to sparkle. He drops his fork and wipes his mouth. “You’re kidding?”
“No.” James shrugs.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
Sirius looks joyfully breathless. He leans forward in his seat, grasps James by the shoulder.
“James.” He says.
“Sirius.” James echoes.
“You’re kidding?”
James shakes his head silently. Sirius’ grip tightens on his shoulders.
“Isn’t it a bit late for that?” He asks, voice high and light.
“They hold auditions year-round,” James says. The grip grows tighter.
“Can you even sing?”
James leans in. He trains his face into a portrait of gravity. He could touch Sirius’ nose with his own if he tipped forward just a hair more. “I have the voice of an angel.”
Sirius releases James’ shoulders and howls with laughter. He doubles over, shoulders shaking hysterically as he shrieks. “Merlin, James, you’re so naff!” He covers his face in a piss-poor attempt to hide his smile.
“It sounds fun!” James defends.
It takes Sirius a minute to collect himself enough to respond. “Precious.” He wheezes. “You’re precious.”
He reaches out and squeezes James’ cheek. James laughs, leaning away from his hands.
“Thought you said I was naff.”
“You are , you brilliant oaf.” Sirius grins, smooshing James’ face between his palms. “You’re so preciously naff.”
James blows a raspberry and returns to his food.
“I’ll be gone Wednesday nights after free if I make it in.” He says, around a mouthful of potatoes. “An hour, more or less.”
“What?!” Sirius straightens. “What am I meant to do while you’re out?”
“You could always come with.”
“Funny.” Sirius scoffs.
James grins. But the moment swiftly sours when he feels a pair of unfriendly eyes on him. He turns to find Narcissa. Her pale face is shriveled in some foreign, unreadable, unpleasant expression. James turns away, uncomfortable.
“She’s still staring.” He says softly.
Sirius sighs. “I’ve been avoiding her all morning.”
Sirius says it like it’s a confession, but James feels no more enlightened than before. He raises his eyebrows.
“I can’t keep at it all day, though.” Sirius continues. “I’ll have to see her at dinner.”
When Sirius offers no further explanation, James prods.
“Why?”
Sirius shrugs. “I always eat dinner with my family on my birthday.”
The Earth stops spinning.
“It’s your birthday?” James leaps up from his seat. Sirius stares at him much like he did the first time they met. He looks at James as if he’d gone and grown a new appendage.
“Yes?”
“It’s your birthday!” James repeats. He drops back down into his seat. “Why didn’t you say something?!”
Sirius just shrugs again, helplessly. “I don’t know.” He says. “It doesn’t really matter.”
“I could have bought you something!” James says.
“I don’t need anything.”
“It’s not about what you need, Sirius!” James throws his hands up in the air. “What if I wanted to do something nice for you?”
“You do plenty of nice things for me.” Sirius chuckles. “You could do an extra nice thing by not joining frog choir.”
James whacks him on the shoulder. “It’s going to be fun.” He insists.
“Fun to laugh at you, sure.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’ll be so bored in the dorm without you.” Sirius pouts. James can’t help but laugh.
“Right.” James frowns in faux concern. “A whole hour with your other mates once per week. How will you ever survive, poor thing?”
“Exactly!”
“You’re such a brave soul.” He pats Sirius’ shoulder sympathetically.
Sirius nods. “That’s what the hat said.”
James chokes on his drink. Pumpkin juice dribbles down his chin as he laughs. Sirius’ eyes gleam. This is the version of Sirius that James savors. His bite is not absent from his voice, but neither is the mirth James dug to uncover. This is the Sirius James is more than glad to call his friend.
“We ought to celebrate,” James says. He steals Sirius’ serviette to mop up the spill.
“Celebrate you joining frog choir?”
“No, you tosser,” James throws the wet serviette back at him. “your birthday!
Sirius catches the projectile. “Can’t.” He says simply. “Like I said, I’ve got to eat with my family.”
James sighs loudly. He pushes his food away and rests his head on the table dramatically. Sirius fondly shakes his head but otherwise ignores these antics.
They’d celebrate Sirius’ birthday. Of course they would. What sort of mate would James be if they didn’t?