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Chapter Text

The vibes between the brothers had been—tense, to say the least, since Regulus was sorted into Slytherin. Before Hogwarts and houses, Sirius and Regulus would play games—play pranks. Sirius always took the fall if they were caught—but Regulus would slip into his room in the night and hold him through the tremors and the tears. That ended when Regulus’ name was called out by a dusty, crumply hat followed by the blasphemous word Slytherin.

Their days of games and tricks came to an end, and the brothers hardly spoke to each other. Even the night Sirius left, hardly a word was passed between them. But the words that were said carried a hefty weight.

“You’re leaving,” Regulus said from the doorway as he watched Sirius hastily pack his belongings. His brother froze at the fact—and it was a fact. Sirius had been burned one too many times by the electric shock of the cruciatus curse, and he knew if he had to endure the pain one more time by the hand of his mother, he would crack like the bust that used to sit at the end of the hall before a wild game got out of hand and it shattered on the floor into hundreds of tiny shards.

“I am,” Sirius said as he stood up straight—challenging him. Daring him to run and tell his parents of his plans to vacate this haunted dwelling and never come back.

But he didn’t—Regulus leaned against the frame of the door with his arms crossed and nodded once, “Good.”

Sirius blinked back—baffled at first, then his bewilderment turned to a white-hot rage, “Good—that's—that’s all you have to say to me? Good?”

Regulus gave his brother a once over—slowly tracing his form as if he wanted to memorize him—to imprint Sirius in his mind and let him live there—as if he would never see him again. Which was preposterous, of course, as they would still see each other in school—but he did so just the same. Then he kicked himself off the frame and lowered his arms to his side. “Yes, Siri.” Regulus whispered as he turned to leave the room, “You never belonged in a cage.” Regulus slowly slid his fingers down the frame of the door and looked back at his brother one last time, “I hope you find your freedom—and truly—I hope you enjoy it.” Regulus said somberly—but with no hint of falsehood in his shaky voice. 

“Co—” Sirius cleared his throat as his eyes began to swell with unshed tears. “Come with me. You don’t—you don’t belong here either, Reggie.”

Regulus shook his head, “No, I don’t. But I’m not ready to go just yet.”

Sirius took quick steps over to his brother and wrapped his arms around the boy as he gripped him tightly and whispered in his ear, “When you’re ready—whenever you’re ready—you know where to find me.”

He felt Regulus nod against his cheek, “I’ll be waiting for you, Reggie. I’ll always wait for you.” Sirius pressed a chaste kiss to the back of his brother's head and let go and watched as his brother left his room, then he turned back and continued to pack his meager life into a trunk, walked down the stairs in the dead of night, and never looked back.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sirius spent a blissful summer with James—he hadn’t known a happy summer in five years—but the Potter manor wouldn’t allow anything less. Days by the lake, thrashing about like the wild thing he was—rather than the well-trained animal he was forced to mask as. But at night, when the sun went down, and the stars shone brightly in the country darkness—Sirius would fix his eyes on the stars and wish. And one night—three days before they were to return to Hogwarts, his 66 wishes were heard and answered as a stiff three-knock rapping echoed in the foyer against the wooden door.

Sirius looked at Monty—fearful that his parents had finally come to collect him. But Effie gave him a quick wink and a soothing hand on his that rubbed lightly and squeezed tightly as Monty went to answer the door. When he returned, he was not alone. In the doorframe of the kitchen stood his doppelgänger with unsure eyes and a pinched face.

“Does the offer still stand, Siri?” Regulus quirked a brow, feigning nonchalance, but the nails digging into his fleshy palm betrayed him. Slowly, Sirius rose from the table and watched Regulus take in a sharp breath and hold it. His brother was here. His brother was here. Sirius rounded the table with a quickness, flying into his brother's arms that clung to his sides. He wrapped his arms around his brother, and even through the awkward stiffness of Regulus’ body, he found the thought of letting go unbearable. Sirius felt as if this was a dream, and if he lost physical contact for a moment, Regulus would slip through his fingers and dissipate like mist in the cool night air.

Yourehereyourhereyourhere echoed in his mind, and suddenly, he felt the tentative touch of his brother's hands on his back squeezing lightly, and the petal soft voice whispered in his ear, “I’m here, Siri.”

Sirius sobbed into his brother's hair as he coiled himself further into his brother's embrace. He lifted his hand to cup the back of Regulus’ head, feeling the soft curls against his palm and between his fingers. The urge to feel every sensation of his brother overwhelmed him. To see him—he looked through bleary eyes and saw his brother trapped in his crushing embrace. To hear him—Regulus' shaky breathing and affirming words that he was real. To smell him—Sirius buried his nose and smelt the familiar scent of cinnamon and lilies. To touch him—velvet softness in one hand and a rigid spine against his other. To taste him—Sirius began peppering soft, affectionate kisses against his neck and shoulder as he cried—“You’re here."

Finally, Sirius was able to muster the strength to let go. Once he was sure that his brother would not fade away, he looked at Regulus in a way he hadn’t for years. They were so similar in their looks—but so different in their demeanor and the way they held themselves.

But this night—Sirius found himself creeping out of James’ bed and into Regulus’ room, where he found a wide-eyed boy sitting on the windowsill gazing at the stars. He took his place on the opposite side of the window and stared at the only star he ever longed to see. Even when they weren’t speaking during their time at Hogwarts—Sirius always found himself looking for his mirror. 

“I know,” Sirius began hesitantly, “I know—we haven’t been the best brothers we could be to each other the last few years.”

Regulus snorted as he looked away from Sirius and toward—well—Sirius. 

“But I’d like to try again.” That drew his younger brother's attention, and with starlight eyes twinkling back at him, he continued, “I want to get to know you again—if you’ll let me.”

Regulus clenched his jaw, and Sirius expected the worst, the how dare you’ s and the fuck off and die’s. But they never came. All that arrived was a light shake of ruffled curls and a slight smirk, “whatever you like, Siri.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

They had a pact. An agreement. An accord. To meet every day for one hour. Almost like a date—a brotherly date. They would sit alone on the grass and talk about whatever their hearts desired. And lately—their hearts desired to complain.

“He’s driving me crazy—Lily this and Lily that. Doesn’t ever shut up about her. And it’s just nothingness—just the same—” Sirius pinched his voice, “she’s so pretty, and she’s so brilliant, and she’s so funny. He never goes into detail about why he thinks she’s pretty or brilliant or funny—just that she is.”

“I’d take that any day over the nauseating display that is Barty and Evan’s odd mating ritual.” Regulus laughed as he tugged at the weed beneath him and pulled it from the ground. It was brilliant to see Regulus laugh again. His eyes crinkled, and his plump pink lips curved slightly upward, and Sirius could not stop melting at how liberated his brother looked. It was refreshing to see in comparison to the droll, blank stare generally occupying his face.

Regulus continued as he looped the stem of the weed and threaded the previously picked stem through the hole, "They already act like an old married couple but refuse to acknowledge their feelings for each other. It's sickening. It's exhausting," Regulus sighed dramatically as he threw himself against the grass. Sirius picked up the unfinished crown and continued to work on shaping it as he plucked the yellow flower from the ground.

"I'd take that any day. At least they have a shot with each other. James doesn't stand a chance."

Regulus pulled one arm over his eyes to shield them from the harsh rays of the midday sun and waved apathetically toward Sirius with the other, "You can have them."

Sirius paused as he worked the stem through the eye of the loop he had created. "I could."

Regulus lifted himself to lean on his elbows and forearms while his long legs stretched along the untamed grass. He arched an intrigued brow and launched a smirk at Sirius' feral grin.

"I've got an idea," Sirius said, and instantly, all humor drained from his brother's face.

"No," Regulus said sternly and began to stand up.

Sirius scrambled to follow him--he snatched the flower crown from his lap and ran to chase after his brother. "Hear me out, Reggie,"

Regulus shook his head, "Nope. Absolutely not." He turned to face his brother and pointed his finger into Sirius' chest. "I know that look, Siri. That look spells nothing but trouble. How many times?" Regulus took a step forward, and Sirius followed his lead, stepping back and found himself fixed between Regulus and the cold stone pillar. "How many times did we get in trouble because of that look?"

"Well, technically, I was the one who got punished." Sirius jibbed, but the joke did not land; instead, it crashed as Regulus' eyes burned with anger.

"If you think you're the only one who got punished, you are sorely mistaken. I had to watch you cry, plead, bleed. And if you don't think that broke a piece of me—" Regulus removed his pointed finger from Sirius' chest and straightened himself, "well, maybe you don't know me at all."

Sirius saw molten silver in the eyes that pierced him--melted him. Regulus twisted his body to get away, but Sirius' hand grasped his wrist and pulled him in a hug, which his brother naturally resisted, but after a few moments of the unrelenting hold, Regulus sank into the embrace. "I'm trying, Reggie. I know things can’t go back to the way they were, but this? We can have this. No one is going to hurt me for this—it’s harmless fun, and I’d really like to—fuck—I’d really like to do this with you. Honestly, I think it could be good for us if you’re willing to hear me out.”

Sirius let Regulus go so he could see his face, muddled with worry as his younger brother trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. But he nodded and mirrored the smile that had blossomed on Sirius’ face. “Yeah, alright, tell me what that devious brain has cooked up.”

Sirius took the flower crown he had finished crafting and placed it on Regulus’ head. He wrapped one arm around his brother's shoulder and swept his hand through the air, “Picture it with me: a prank on our friends and a bet for us. We pretend to be each other for a week. We tell no one. The first person to either get caught or tap out loses.”

Regulus furrowed his brow, “Polyjuice?” Sirius eyed his brother up and down. Regulus’ eyes were slightly lighter than his own, his hair was curly where Sirius’ fell in waves, and his brother’s cheek bones were sharper but other than that–they could have passed for twins. He knew Regulus was clever enough to cast a few simple charms to mimic the discrepancies so, he shook his head, and his wavy locks swayed with the movement, “nah. We’re similar enough—you’re just as tall as I am, which, by the way—when the fuck did that happen?”

Regulus smirked, “I grew about two inches over the summer—kind of you to just notice now.”

Sirius frowned, then shook his head again, “Anyway—I think a couple of glamours would do the trick.” Sirius watched as Regulus’ starlight eyes swept over his frame and nodded, “All right. What are the terms?”

“Every day we meet, we’ll switch back. So, we’ll only be the other person every other day. If you’re caught—you lose. If you tap out—you lose.”

“What happens if we lose?”

Sirius thought for a moment, then fixed his brother with an impish grin, “Veritaserum. The loser has to take Veritaserum, and the winner can ask any questions they want—no limit.” Sirius stared at his brother while he processed thinking of the pros and cons of the deal before Regulus’ eyes mirrored his own, riddled with mischief. “I’ll do you one better. I’ve been working on a Veritaserum that will last 12 hours rather than the normal 30 minutes. Loser has to drink that—and resume their day as they normally would.”

Sirius frowned at the thought of revealing all his secrets to anyone but his brother, but he always loved a challenge, so he nodded his head and held out his hand.

“When do we begin?” He asked as he waited for his brother to accept the deal. Regulus stretched out his hand and muttered, “No time like the present.”

Chapter Text

Regulus hiked up the stairs toward the tower, feeling more and more insecure about his decision to agree to this stupid bet. He could feel the magic on his skin hiding his sharper features from the passersby. The faces that were usually sour toward the younger black brother were jovial and inviting and made him feel more at ease to grace them with a practiced winning smile he had seen so often on Sirius’ face. The password provided by his brother left his lips with a loud crow, as his brother was known to do, and he entered uncharted territory with awe. The tower seemed so warm in its bright red and gold decor, with a fire roaring, keeping the cool October air at bay. On the couch, he saw James looking particularly frustrated at a piece of parchment in front of him, Peter with an assortment of cards on the coffee table—his ass on a cushy pillow and his back facing the fire, and Remus lounging in a chair with a book in his lap as he twirled a lock of hair around his finger. He breathed in deeply, grounding himself as he set out to give the performance of a lifetime. The bag on his shoulder was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor as he plopped next to James and wrapped his arm around the older boy's shoulder, “Hiya Prongs.”

All concentration and harsh lines drained from James Potter’s face as he looked over to see his best friend beaming at him. Regulus had never before gained such a reaction from the boy, and the gesture caused Regulus to flounder for a moment before he caught himself and flashed the object of his disdain with a grin. James leaned into Regulus’ embrace and placed a warm hand on the younger boy's leg. “How was your date with Regulus?”

Date? Is that what he called their time together? The word made Regulus flush, and he tried to play it off as he gave James a good-hearted shove. “It was fine.”

James hummed and looked back to the problem he was working on. Regulus transferred his attention to Peter, “What are you working on, Wormtail?”

“Divination,” Peter mumbled, his focus fixed on the cards.

Recalling Sirius’ need for attention, Regulus gave Peter a rueful smile and said as he gestured wildly, “All right, Petey, give it a go—tell me my future.”

Peter looked up, insecurity stuck to his face, but the boy nodded and gathered the cards to shuffle them. He placed them in three neat piles of different sizes and picked up each one, fanning them out for Regulus to pick one card from each pile. Regulus chose his cards and placed them on the table in front of them. The first card was death, at which Peter squeaked and searched through his guide to aid him in his reading.

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Peter said as he read.

“What is it, Petey?” James asked, abandoning his ongoing project in favor of the game of chance and fate.

“Well—it says here, ‘The card of Death doesn’t necessarily mean actual death, but is likely the end of something, more specifically,” Peter went on to read, “The end of a significant phase of your life that is no longer serving you.”

“And good riddance to that—" James said, likely interpreting the meaning to be the end of Sirius’ life under the tyrannical oppression of Walburga and Orion Black.

Regulus hummed as he flipped over the second card, which held three men in front of a building that sported three pentacles. “This one represents success—or rather the beginning of success—the three men are working together to achieve a goal. Individually—they would not succeed, but together, they find that they can work harmoniously and accomplish their desired goal. It encourages collaboration, specifically with others who might see things differently than you, and not to ignore other people’s talents or perspectives but rather embrace them.”

“Well—that’s great! You’ve got your three men here, Padfoot—Moony, Wormtail, and me.”

Peter shook his head, “No—I think it means for Sirius to branch out to people who are not necessarily as like-minded as him.”

They were both right in a sense—Regulus thought. While James was focused on the face before him—that was not who had pulled the card. But he stifled down his introspection to save it for another day and pulled the next card. Two children were playing in the center, and surrounded by them were six cups filled with soil and flowers. “This one represents homecoming—nostalgia—it encourages you to reconnect with someone in your past and return to the familiarity of happier times. It also—“

The room grew quiet, and only the sound of the crackling fire could be heard beyond the stilled breaths.

Regulus swallowed thickly, “Go on, Pete.”

Peter breathed in sharply, “It also says it’s a card of healing old wounds—specifically in regard to a strained relationship.”

Regulus already knew this—of course, he did—with Pandora’s guidance, he learned the art of divination at a young age. But it didn’t quell the feeling that sunk in the pit of his stomach—the worry that he would not be able to achieve this goal and move past the heartbreak and loss between him and his brother. He nodded once and stiffly rose from the couch, “Thanks for the reading, Pete—" he said as he walked out of the common room and toward his brother’s dorm. Under the scrutiny of fate, he found the sense of joviality had left him, and the mask of magic weighed heavily on his face.

As soon as he reached the room, he found his brother’s bed and sank into it—breathing in the smell of smoke and cedar wood threaded into the linen. Only a few moments later, he heard the click of the door and felt a warm body lay next to him, rubbing small circles into his lower back. “Pads—talk to me,” James whispered against his ear as he faced away from the last boy Regulus wanted to talk to. He looked over to see Remus sitting on his bed, which was directly across from him. Remus took in a deep breath, and Regulus watched as his eyes drew together in confusion. 

Regulus exhaled slowly, putting his mask as Sirius in place as he tried to convey what he was feeling. “What if—what if he doesn’t—what if my brother doesn’t—what if we can’t move past it.”

James entwined his body with Regulus’ slotting knee between his legs in an innocent effort to be closer to his friend. He played on Regulus’ back and whispered in his ear, “He’s trying. You know that he’s trying. He has these dates with you—”

“Don’t call it that.” Regulus said as he buried his face into the pillows with a groan and felt James chuckle against his back and puffs of breath against his neck, “All right—he has these rendezvous with you in an effort to get to know you—for you to get to know him. Which sounds an awful lot like a date if you ask me—ow” Regulus sat up and hit James with a pillow before climbing on top of him—an action that was so familiar to him as Barty taunted him constantly, causing him to resort to violence—but this face beaming up at him with mirth as he conceded was unfamiliar but not altogether as unpleasant as he thought it would be.

James caught his wrist and yanked out the feathered weapon from his grip, then caught his other wrist before flipping the younger boy onto his back and slotting himself between Regulus' thighs. “The point is—before I was so rudely interrupted,” James’ playful grin softened, “is that he’s trying, and these things take time. And I know patience isn’t your forte, Pads. But you’re gonna have to learn. Rome wasn’t built in a day—and your relationship with Regulus isn’t going to just magically be as it was. It might never be as it was again—but it can be transfigured into something newer—something stronger. And the both of you will be better off for it if you both keep at it.”

Regulus regarded James with a quizzical brow. Warmth radiated off of him and seared Regulus’ skin, charring his flesh and melting his bones. He fixed the sun-kissed boy with a soft smile, “When did you get to be so wise, James Potter?”

“Fuck you, tosser, I am the sagest of the sage,” James said as he held both wrists high above Regulus’ head and used the other hand to tickle him—which was honestly one of the younger boy's biggest weaknesses—and Regulus began to thrash about under him. After a bout of laughter, James finally ceased his torture, and both boys were panting heavily from the childish activity. James pressed his forehead to the boy beneath him and laughed out, “All right?”

Regulus nodded, feeling the brush of James’ nose against his, “Good, now give us a kiss, and let’s make up.” Regulus stilled—did he? Did his brother kiss James? Was this part of their relationship? What else did he do with James? The boy on top of him leaned his lips down and placed a chaste kiss against Regulus’ lips. His heart was beating—fluttering—out of control like a flag on top of the mast of a ship caught in a storm. James' lips against his own were so soft, and all too soon, the warm, wet feeling of James' mouth was just a phantom sensation. Regulus darted out his tongue to lick his lips, and they tasted the strawberries James had had with his lunch.

James’ eyes traced the movement with confusion sculpted into his features—his eyes drawn together, mouth slightly open before he bit his bottom lip, tugging at it in thought. Whatever battle James was fighting in his head must have reached a conclusion because the boy leaned in again. This kiss lasted longer, lips and eyes still closed as the pair savored the unfamiliar feeling. Regulus’ heart raced, and he could feel a tightness just below his naval. James’ hands smoothed over the linen and reached up to cup Regulus’ face. The elder boy instinctively rolled his hips once, and as Regulus gasped, James took the opportunity to bite his lower lip. It was just a nip—the tiniest pressure of teeth against his plush lip, but—oh, it felt fucking heavenly. As James pulled on that lip, Regulus carded both hands through the boy’s impossibly messy hair, and he pulled him closer.

Tongues waltzed together to the sound of their moans as they kept kissing, longer, harsher. The click of the door being closed wasn’t heard by either boy as they continued seeking pleasure in each other’s mouths—in each other’s hips. James controlled the movements of his hips, oscillating them into Regulus’.

Unexpectedly and unskillfully, hips started taking a life of their own as he rocked into James, and he swallowed the vibrations of James’ groan travel through him and settled in his cock, which he thrusts up against James’ to help relieve his swelling ache.

Regulus was—limited—in his sexual experience. He had only ever had a few kisses from Barty, and those were always given on a dare. He’d never had the desire to touch himself, but he found himself wet and sticky on occasional mornings when he had woken up from a dream he couldn’t remember—only the faded image of the black wavy hair of the mystery dream lover remained on the lids of his eyes.

“Fuck, Sirius—mmmmfffhhh—you smell so fucking good—you ahh—you feel so fucking good.” The mention of his brother’s name, for some reason, spurred him on, and a pathetic sound— akin to a mewling kitten—escaped him.

“James—I—James—please.”

He didn’t know what he was begging for, but he beg he did, and James got that confused look again in his eye as he thrust up against Regulus and slowed. His eyes began to leak down the side of Regulus’ face, and he’d lost the ability to mutter anything but James and please. James’ thrusts stopped completely when he saw the tears dripping down Regulus’ cheeks. He put both hands on either side of Regulus’ head and brushed away the salty wetness from his face, “Hey, Pads, look at me.” James whispered with a softness that pulled at Regulus’ heartstrings, but he shook his head. “Sirius,” the broken whisper forced Regulus to open his eyes, and he was met with deep blue concern. “We don’t—we don’t have to do—this—anything—you don’t want to—”

Regulus clutched onto James’ shirt and pulled him forward. Their noses brushed, and their mouths hung open as their lips ghosted each other. Regulus didn’t trust his words—couldn’t make himself sound like his brother when all his blood was trapped in his cock—so he thrust up once, twice, thrice, until James got the hint that Regulus very much wanted this.

James groaned, and the pair looked down at their clothed groins rubbing up against each other. The friction of the clothing burned against Regulus’ sensitive cock, but he didn’t dare complain when the feel of James’ hardened length felt so good. Their eyes drifted back up toward each other, and a drop of sweat fell into Regulus’ open mouth, and he tried to stifle the moan bubbling up from his core. With low-lidded eyes, Regulus watched as James' face contorted from concentration to a relieving pleasure as he reached his climax. The sights and sounds and feel of pleasure as wetness seeped through James’ and Regulus’ trousers sent Regulus over the edge, and he came with a stuttered cry. James gave Regulus a hazy look and a dopey grin that drew a laugh out of the younger boy.

Regulus could see the transformation in the way James’ eyes softened, the way his lips parted, the way his face erased all lines, and he became uncomfortable under the gaze of the boy.

“What?” Regulus huffed out a laugh.

James shook his head, and with it, the tangled, messy hair swept back and forth, “Nothing–you’re just–I never no–I never noticed how beautiful you are.”

Regulus gasped softly. He had never been called beautiful before. Regal? Yes. Elegant? Yes. But never beautiful. And then it dawned on him–of course–James wasn’t actually seeing him. He was seeing Sirius. And Regulus let out an honest scoff at the idea that anyone could not notice Sirius Black’s beauty. Despite the gnawing pain in his heart that the compliment wasn’t actually directed toward him. He found it easy to slip into that role of his brother and play it off, “Honestly, Prongs, maybe you need to get your prescription changed.” He said as he took off the boy's glasses and examined the strength as he held them up to his face, pretending to look through them. James chuckled and collapsed on top of him. The boy fell asleep rather quickly, and Regulus found that he didn’t mind the weight of James Potter on top of him as he carded his hands through the hair of the sleeping boy. It helped to quell the cavity in his heart–that gnawing feeling that no one had ever truly loved him and no one ever truly would. But at this moment, with a boy he loathed snuggled up so languidly on top of him, he was willing to pretend even for a moment, and he soaked up the love that rightly belonged to his brother. 

Chapter Text

As Sirius trotted down the stairs, he could feel the atmosphere grow colder—not only the air but the stone faces that passed him, greeting him only with a curt nod. The faces of the Slytherins were expressionless—emotionless—and Sirius couldn’t help but wonder how anything or anyone could thrive under such dark, cold conditions. He whispered the password to the unwelcoming portrait and watched as it swung open, revealing a green and black-decorated common room. The only signs of vivacity were beyond the glass window, revealing the Black Lake and the creatures that dwelled there. Drawn to the comfort of liveliness, Sirius walked toward the glass and watched as the aquatic inhabitants danced in the murky water illuminated by bioluminescence; the fish seemed almost like stars floating around in the night sky.

“Black,” a familiar voice called in an unfamiliar tone, and Sirius turned his head while his hands remained firmly placed behind his back. He masked the distaste with practiced ease as he and Regulus had done so often in their youth while they playfully imitated their father. Sirius had grown tired of the game, but Regulus had always found value in not letting others know what he was thinking or feeling, and since he was wearing the face of his brother, he once more found purpose in the game of masks.

“Snape,” Sirius said coolly in an uncharacteristically calm voice.

Severus Snape was the bane of his existence—and the hatred he felt for the boy was entirely mutual. But for some odd reason, Regulus had found some sort of understanding with him, and for as annoying as he found the ponce, he knew the boy was clever—observant. So, he held his cards close to his chest as Snape glided over to him. He began to speak to him about the properties of a magical ingredient, and as they exchanged theories on the quantities in a particular potion and how it could enhance its effectiveness, Sirius noted two things in his mind. Firstly, this was the longest conversation he had ever had with the greasy-haired git without hexing him, and secondly, while his face remained stoic, Snape’s beady onyx eyes seemed to have a wistful animation to them as they exchanged academic speculations. Once the conversation had come to a natural close, Sirius bid Snape farewell and headed toward his dorms, where he had hoped he could take the burdensome mask off for a moment. Unfortunately, his wishes yielded no fruit as he walked in to see an irritated Evan Rosier frowning and a manic Barty Crouch, Jr. smiling victoriously.

As Evan spotted Regulus, Sirius could see the relief wash over the younger boy, and suddenly, Sirius felt the full weight of the elder Rosier twin on his shoulders.

“I swear to god, Regulus, if you don’t save me from this torment, I will either kill Barty or myself—” Evan’s breath ghosted Sirius’ neck, and his body stiffened at the unexpected affection. His brother’s dorm mate pulled back to look at him with a curious expression, but it was quickly interrupted by Crouch’s sing-song voice.

“I told youuu. You’re just mad because you lost the bet.”

On the inside, Sirius was caught between a mixture of shock and pride at the idea of Regulus potentially partaking in a bet, especially since he had been so reluctant to take part in Sirius' challenge, but he feigned indifference to Regulus’ friends when he asked, “Oh? And which bet was this?”

A familiar misplaced drawl came from the wall behind him, “I just had the pleasure of witnessing your brother making out with his best friend.”

Slowly, Sirius turned and looked down to see a face he knew better than his own. Remus Lupin was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, one leg stretched out and the other bent at the knee. His arm rested on his raised leg, and in his hand was a little cigarette that he had brought to his lips. With wide eyes, he watched as his friend sucked at the filter and breathed in deeply while a smirk played along his lips. Then he parted them and exhaled, letting the white smoke billow and rise into the air.

“Re—Sirius was making out with Potter?” Sirius stammered with a true flash of horror that crossed across his face. He fixed his frame to maintain a nonchalance on the outside, which he definitely did not feel on the inside.

“Yep.” Remus confirmed, “Didn’t know you had a bet going though, I would have cashed in on that.”

“You—” Sirius furrowed, his brows mildly hurt at the level of indifference Remus was displaying at the idea of James and himself making out.

“Speaking of cashing out—" Barty interrupted, “Pay up, Black.”

Sirius turned back to Crouch to see an open palm waiting for his reward, and Sirius dug through his pockets to pull out a few gold coins and dropped them into Barty’s waiting hand. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Evan’s face held a secret knitted in his smile as he watched Sirius pay the debt. He cast a look at Remus, who sent him a wink, and suddenly, a wonderfully awful idea walked across his brain and made a home in the front corner.

“Wait a minute, Barty.” He called out as his hands clutched his own gold in his pocket, “What if they were just kissing? Friends do that. Perhaps they’re just very good friends, you know like Remus and Regulus are.”

It was so quick Barty missed it, but Evan Rosier had his eyes firmly fixed on Regulus' face as he hunted for clues to prove his hypothesis, and he found confirmation in the brief look of shock that flashed across Regulus' face like a bolt of lightning in hidden by familiar stormy eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘like Remus and Regulus are?’” Crouch asked perplexedly, having not caught on to the game that was being played on the pair.

“You remember that one party we went to where Remus and Regulus made out?” Evan could practically see the fire behind Regulus’ eyes, threatening to reveal the identity of the body snatcher, but his body remained stoically still. He had to give it to the elder Black brother; he was doing a marvelous job in his attempts to deceive the three boys. Clearly, he underestimated Evan Rosier's cleverness. Barty was also exceptionally bright and quite brilliant at riddles and secrets, but he was easily distracted by his victory. Honestly, sometimes Evan thought about how the hat got it wrong and how his best friend should have been sorted in Ravenclaw. He'd catch on soon enough when the high of his triumph had dissipated. In the meantime, Evan planned to have enough fun for the pair of them while he taunted the lion in the snake's den.

“I don’t remember Regulus and Remus ever making out,” Barty contradicted, much to the annoyance of Evan, who wanted his friend to play with him—but social cues were lost on the boy.

“That’s probably because you were piss drunk. But I remember. And I know Remus certainly does.” Evan sent Remus a coded wink, which, thankfully—the boy returned with a mischievous smile.

“Oh, how could I forget,” Remus let out a hearty laugh, “it’s not every day you find yourself snogging Regulus Black.”

Sirius couldn’t tell which made him more offended—the fact that Remus had kissed Regulus or the idea that Regulus had kissed Remus. Neither were an option Sirius was willing to unpack at the moment, but he found himself drawn to the beautifully textured boy, and he saddled up next to him and sank to the ground. He thought for a moment as he stared into grainy amber eyes and whispered truthfully, “I’m with Barty. I don’t seem to recall ever having kissed you, Remus.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sirius watched as Remus’ hand lifted up to take hold of a stray curl and twirl it around his finger. He leaned in, and with whiskey eyes and a soft, rumbling voice, he asked, “Would you like a reminder, Starlight?”

The pet name rolled off the werewolf’s tongue like he had said it a million times—and maybe he had. After all, it wasn’t Sirius’ silver eyes he was staring at but Regulus’ slate eyes. Sirius Black had witnessed the many faces of Remus Lupin. He’d seen Remus ignoring everything around him and trading his reality for a world of knowledge as he held the pages of a book between his fingers. He had witnessed angry Remus when someone came after any of his close friends or Sirius was a little too pushy during the wrong time of the month. He had seen prankster Remus, who had a devilish look in his eye when he was plotting something ingenious. But he had never seen the Remus who was looking at him now—no. Not him. Regulus.

This Remus had low-lidded eyes, a soft, knowing smirk, and an almost vulnerable openness that made Sirius jealous. Why did Regulus get to see this side of Remus? Why did he never look at Sirius that way? Of course, he knew the answer before he even thought of the questions. Regulus was different. He was special. Sirius could hardly blame Remus for admiring the graceful beauty before him or for forming a bond over novels or academics. Sirius, himself, never had the patience to sit—stay still long enough to focus on the words on a page. He was always more of a practical learner. He thrived on trial and error rather than studying techniques and then applying them.

So no—he couldn’t blame Remus for his obvious attraction to Regulus and maybe it was wrong to lead Remus on by accepting the proposal on Regulus’ behalf but he couldn’t help but think this might be the only chance he got to feel what it would be like to kiss Remus Lupin, so with an uncharacteristically tentativeness, Sirius leaned forward and pressed his lips against the smirking devil he called friend.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus Lupin’s eyes widened in shock as he felt Sirius’ soft, plump lips against his own. He had often wondered what it would be like to kiss Sirius Black. He imagined fireworks, electricity, and a fiery passion. But what he got instead was a dull warmth. A kind of cozy feeling that settled in his bones and slowly thawed over his cold skin. The same kind of comfort he had found in his friend on long, painful days after a full moon when Sirius would climb into his hospital bed, wrap his arms around him, and lay his ear against Remus’ beating heart. He began to feel Sirius pull away from the tender, closed-lipped kiss, but he wasn’t ready to let go yet. So, Remus took his hand wrapped in Sirius’ charmed curls and nestled his palm against Sirius’ cheek, using his fingertips wrapped around the back of the boy’s neck to drive him in closer. Surprised, Sirius opened his mouth, letting out a gasp, and Remus took the opportunity to deepen his kiss and scrape his rough, smokey tongue against Sirius’. The werewolf could practically feel all pretense melt away as Sirius moved from his spot on the wall to straddle Remus’ legs while he kept his lips locked languidly against the boy on the floor.

“Oh, I definitely would have remembered that.” Crouch said, busting through their lustful haze. “How come you never kiss me  like that, Reggie?”

Remus could feel the huff of warm air as Sirius laughed. To the werewolf’s dismay, Sirius climbed off of him and stood up. He stood looking down on Remus with an unreadable expression.

It was eerie looking up at Sirius and seeing Regulus’ face. Just as it was unsettling watching James kiss Regulus as he wore the mask of his brother. Rather than the expected cold, green pit leaving an emptiness in his heart as he watched the two boys explore each other, he felt a warm, red fullness tugging at his abdomen. He had stayed for far too long watching James test the boundaries of his friendship with not-Sirius.

He could have said something—probably should have—but it was clear that the brothers were up to something, and curiosity got the better of Remus, so he stayed silent as he walked down to the dungeons to investigate. Watching Sirius enter the room wearing Regulus’ face made their plot clear. They had made some sort of arrangement to swap lives for a day, knowing Sirius it was some kind of prank, but Remus wasn’t ready to show his hand yet. And Evan had given him the opportunity to indulge in a delight Remus knew he would otherwise never have the chance to experience. Selfishly, he took it. 

Remus lifted his fingers to his lips as he stared at Regulus’ face, still sporting that quizzical brow as if he were solving a great mystery. The werewolf's gaze flicked to Evan, who was sporting a shit-eating grin as he leaned against the bedpost with his arms crossed.

“It’s getting late.” Remus said as he stood and tested Sirius’ resolve to maintain the masquerade as he said, “Surely, your brother and James are done with their— activities.”

Sirius’ fists clenched at his side but other than that his expression remained stoic. He leaned in and pressed one last soft kiss against Sirius’ lips and whispered as he felt the boy he had spent the better half of his childhood pining for melt against him, “Goodnight, Starlight.”

He turned to leave and heard Barty complain about the absence of  his  good night kiss, followed by Evan threatening to have his fist kiss Barty’s face if he didn’t shut up.

When he reached his own dorm, he saw Peter practically dead to the world as he slept face down on the bed in the far corner. Remus continued his trek to his own bed, flopped dramatically onto his back, and gazed at the ceiling, which Sirius and James had decorated with constellations of the night sky. His eyes naturally drifted to a white blob of paint—larger than all the others, before they drifted toward a lion. The reminder of the little prince in the room with him caused him to glance at James’ bed, where he found Sirius’s eyes staring back at him. James had draped himself over Regulus the way he had so many nights before. A tanned, toned arm wrapped securely around the younger boy, and though visually it was no different than any other night—Remus knew better. Regulus would never let James hold him like that, but here he was, curled up against the bane of his existence and either put on a great show of not being bothered by it or actually allowing himself comfort from the other boy.

With a smirk that elicited a look of puzzlement from the smaller boy, Remus sent him a wink and whispered, “Good night, Sirius.”

Regulus’ brows furrowed and a frown fell across his face, but Remus just smiled, turned back to the stars above him and fell asleep with the phantom kiss of the real Sirius Black lingering on his lips.

Chapter Text

The first thing Regulus noticed when he woke was the cocoon of warmth radiating around him. Safety was a luxury he wasn’t familiar with, so the feeling startled him. He opened his eyes to see the bright red curtains of the bed across from him; then, immediately closed them again to spare himself from the gauche colors. The night came back to him in a slow montage of moving images flashing behind his eyelids. Soft kisses, unskilled thrusts, and sweet words meant for someone else pulsed before him, but still, he found himself sinking into the rising sun as it wrapped itself around him with offerings of fellowship and peace—neither of which were something Regulus was prepared for from the boy who gave so freely. He had to remind himself that these gifts were not meant for him. They were meant for Sirius. But Regulus was greedy and deprived, and he wanted so desperately to taste a bit of the life Sirius had built for himself, so he buried the guilt in his empty stomach and buried his body further into the rising sun behind him.

The boy pressed so tightly against him, coiled his arm, and pulled him in, further smelling his neck as he whispered against his flesh in a husky, sleep-ridden voice, “Morning Pads.”

Regulus grunted and felt the reverberating chuckles against his back and neck as James' warm breath sank into his skin, infecting him with false feelings of safety and belonging, “How about we skip today?”

“We can’t,” Regulus mourned. He had a test later in potions and didn’t trust Sirius to keep up with his impeccable record. He also needed to see his brother and bring himself out of the rabbit hole he had fallen into. Regulus felt James shift and slot himself on top of the younger boy between his legs. A deep breath left him as he felt James’ morning glory proudly jutting against his hip. 

He looked up to see curious, skeptical eyes as James asked, “Who are you, and what have you done with Sirius Black?”

Regulus’s eyes widened, and he tried to think of a clever lie to appease James’s doubt, “I have to go meet Regulus this afternoon. If I don’t come—” 

Regulus tapered off. He knew if Sirius had intentionally skipped their rendezvous, he would feel the all-too-familiar sense of abandonment creep in. He had told his brother to leave their home because he knew it was what was best for him. But the truth is, Sirius had left their home the minute he was sorted into Gryffindor. The moment Regulus proved to be the embodiment of a good Black when the hat had cursed him with his ill-fated destiny. 

He began choking on the words lodged in his tightened throat, and James took mercy on him as he smiled sadly—knowingly and brushed their noses together before he leaned in and whispered against his lips, “I was only teasing, Padfoot.” 

James closed the gap between them and graced Regulus with resplendent luminescence, and he graced him with a closed-mouthed kiss.

“What the fuck is this?” A squealing voice pierced through the air, shattering the rose-tinted moment. Suddenly, the warm, cozy feeling that had settled in Regulus’ bones blazed and rushed to his cheeks. James flopped dramatically onto his back, allowing Regulus to see a baffled Peter and a smug-looking Remus. There was something about the way his friend held himself, which was reminiscent of the gaze he pierced him with the night before. He would have to be extra careful to keep up the charade with Remus. 

“When—what—how—whe—whyyy?” Peter sputtered and moaned.

Remus smirked and offered a reprieve from the questioning, for which Regulus was eternally grateful as he said, “Come on, lads. We’ll be late for breakfast.”

The four got dressed in an awkward silence. Regulus avoided Peter’s puzzled stare as he put on a fresh set of clothes and the vulgar scarlet and gold tie. He silently reinforced the charms as he looked at himself in the mirror and saw the freckles that clung to his face like confetti peek through the magical mask. He watched his eyes reignite that starlit shine his brother was blessed with, and his hair, which had begun to curl ever so slightly, fell back in the natural waves his brother carried. As he gazed at the reflection of the looking glass, he was met with the all too familiar envious feeling in his gut. His brother was naturally and effortlessly beautiful. Regulus always felt he had to work hard to tame his wild curls; his matte gray eyes had always left something to be desired, in his opinion, and the freckles on his face gave him a boyish look, unlike the smooth, flawless flesh that he spent too long observing. It was no wonder James was attracted to him, and as his stomach grumbled with envy and emptiness, he placed those untouched thoughts and feelings into little boxes and wrapped them neatly with brown paper, tying them up tightly with twine.

The four strolled down the stairs and toward the Great Hall. James happily rambled about quidditch practice and a new maneuver he was excited to try while Peter occasionally flicked his gaze between the pair of them. Remus was silent, but his smirk was telling as Regulus caught his eye on occasion. Finally, they reached the Hall and took their seats. James sat beside Regulus, facing the Slytherin table, while Peter and Remus sat opposite them. A burning sensation irritated his cheeks, and he looked up to see himself sitting across the Hall at the Slytherin tables.

Cold gray eyes narrowed as they watched James wrap his arm around Regulus and twin threads intertwined around his heart. The green thread of jealousy from the disconcerted look on his own face was braided with the red thread of satisfaction in irritating his brother, creating a conflicting wreath on his overworked organ. Tugging at the red cord, he leaned into James’ touch and wrapped his arm around the boy's waist as he let his head rest on the boy's shoulder. The taunting act earned him a hardened glare, and gratification at his own menacing stare piercing him swelled within his warm body. He sent himself a provoking wink and watched from across the Hall as his own face burned and turned back to Barty. When he was sure Sirius was no longer looking at him, he grabbed a cup and began to reach for the tea kettle out of habit, but he stopped when a full mug of black sludge was thrust toward him by Remus’ hand. 

“Here you go, Padfoot,” he smirked, “just how you like it.”

Regulus looked down at the offending liquid and back up to Remus’ mirthful eyes, which twinkled with the hypothesis. Regulus looked back down at the cup of black coffee and silently cursed his brother for his wretched taste. 

“Thanks, Moony,” he gritted out as he lifted the cup to his lips and tasted the acrid bitterness.

He was sure he had no clue how his brother endured the harsh, earthy water, but in the spirit of keeping up appearances, he did his best to pretend like he was enjoying it. A sadistic smile stretched across Remus’ face, and he found himself wondering if the boy had guessed at the tricky game the brothers were playing. Surely not. His performance was impeccable.

He stuffed his face with the meats that lined his plate, being sure to use his hands rather than the utensils as Sirius was prone to eat like a savage rather than display a modicum of the decorum beaten into him—rebelling in even the smallest of ways. The grease that coated his fingers made him feel dirty, and he licked them clean, watching the satisfied smirk on Remus’ face turn dark and wanting. He was no stranger to how his friend felt about his brother, as he would often lament his lack of prospects regarding the possibility of Sirius ever returning his affections. Hogwash, in Regulus’ opinion. If the years of silent observation across the great hall proved anything, it was that Sirius was enamored with the tawny-haired boy, and Regulus quickly packaged the feelings that went along with that knowledge as well, placing them next to the plethora of boxes that seemed to be piling up.

Regulus felt like the cat that caught the canary as he slowly swirled his tongue around each digit. He refused to blink as he stared meaningfully at Remus’ eyes, which were trained on Sirius’ mouth. Once he was satisfied with the effect of his teasing, he wiped his spit-shined fingers on a napkin he had gathered from the table and rose from his seat.

“Come on, Moony. We wouldn’t want to be late for Herbology," he teased with a smirk.

Remus fixed him with a deadly stare, and he swore he could hear the boy growl lowly as he rose from his seat and gathered his books. Regulus took another look down at James, who smiled brightly up at him. 

He felt his heart tug just a little at the pesky sky-blue eyes that offered sincere warmth as he asked, “Do you want to meet up after you go see Regulus?”

The younger Black brother forced a winning smile and said, “Sure, Prongs.” 

Then he walked off toward the greenhouses with a muttering Remus trailing beside him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So, how was it being Sirius Black for a day?” his brother teased as he leaned languidly against the archway with his arms crossed. It was odd to see himself reflecting Sirius’ natural demeanor. Where the elder Black was naturally lithe and relaxed, the younger Black always carried a forced and practiced elegance, and to see himself look so free was an assault on the image he had of himself—the image he expected others to have of him.

“It was—” several adjectives swarmed through Regulus’ mind, but he settled on a less offensive answer as he was trying to rekindle their relationship: " Enlightening.”

The pair walked toward their spot on the grass and stripped themselves of their magical barriers and their borrowed ties. Silence lingered between them for a few minutes while they regained their bearings and settled back into their own skins, unmasked and unbarred.

Regulus felt silver eyes on his face searching for something as he lay on the grass with his lids closed.

“What?” Regulus asked, breaking the quiet arcadia.

“Nothing,” Sirius said quickly as he looked away. Regulus peaked his eyes open to see Sirius sitting down on the clover patch, picking at the buds. He huffed, obviously warring with himself, and finally mumbled, “Do you have anything you want to tell me?”

Rosebuds blossomed on Regulus’ freckled cheeks, and he closed his eyes again, unable to look at his brother as he offered his confessions of the night before.

“Yeah, I guess we should discuss what happened yesterday to keep up appearances for today.

“I went to the tower; Peter read my cards, then I went to the dorm where your annoying friend kissed me and stuff, and then we went to sleep. I woke up; we went to breakfast where I had to drink fucking black coffee —honestly, I have no idea how you stomach it—the. I went to Herbology and Charms—I have your notes, by the way, and then I came here.” Regulus sat up and dug through his satchel to retrieve the notes he had mentioned. With a steady hand, he held out the papers to Sirius, who stared at him disbelievingly with narrowed eyes. 

“You kissed James.”

Regulus lowered his outstretched hand when he realized Sirius was not going to take the notes. 

He fumbled as he said, “I—well—no. He kissed me. Well—actually, he kissed you.” 

His face was on fire and continued to sear as Sirius’ eyes grew dark and ominous. “Just a quick peck?”

“Um—no,” Regulus admitted and began to squirm in the face of the inquisition, “he um—well, he made out with me and um—stuff.”

“And stuff,” Sirius deadpanned, “what kind of stuff?”

Regulus began to feel uncomfortable—like perhaps he had crossed a line. But honestly, Sirius should have warned him about the nature of his relationship with James before they agreed to this bet.

“I don't know—stuff—like we made out and then we—I don't know—rubbed up against each other while we were kissing. You know—whatever you normally do.” Regulus fumbled.

The feral look in Sirius’ eyes made his naturally silver eyes almost shine green as he repeated, “What we normally do.”

Regulus cleared his throat, “Yeah—you know you really should have told me what you get up to with him. I was blindsided, and it was hard to keep up appearances, but I wasn’t going to tap out because you failed to mention the sordid activities you get up to with your friend.”

Sirius let out a low growl, not unlike the noise Remus made at breakfast, as he said, “I have never made out with James Potter, and I have certainly never frotted against him.”

Regulus’ eyes narrowed and then widened in realization as he sputtered, “But—but—he made—it seemed—I—”

Regulus stumbled, and he was sure his face was as red as the forbidden apple he had tasted the night before. The experience he had with James last night seemed so natural and unworried--like they had done it a thousand times before.

The misplaced green in Sirius’ eyes flashed red with mischief as he watched Regulus flounder, and a bestial smile flashed across his brother’s lips.

“You know—I didn’t know you had it in you—but you’re a little slut,” Sirius taunted.

If Regulus thought his face couldn’t flush any more than it had, he was undoubtedly wrong. Annoyance struck him as Sirius fixed him with an indiscernible look. If Regulus had to guess, it was a mixture concocted of humor, underlying jealousy, possibly a dash of pride, and something else Regulus couldn’t quite put his finger on. He felt as if he was being cornered—caged by a hungry dog ready to gnash its teeth into Regulus’ proud facade by debasing him by way of degradation.

“I’m not a slut,” Regulus whispered the defamatory term, “I was pretending to be you. I would never, in a thousand years, have done that with him if I were myself.”

Sirius hummed, and though his teasing smile remained, his eyes narrowed darkly with accusation as he said, “But you’ll make out with Remus at parties.”

Confusion riddled Regulus as he struggled to grasp what Sirius was talking about. “What?”

“Imagine my surprise when I walk into the dungeons and hear all about how my baby brother made out with my best friend.”

“I—what? Start at the beginning.” Regulus demanded, eager to know where the fabrication came from. Sirius recounted his experience from when he left Regulus after trading places. He stored the lack of typical disdain when speaking about his conversation with Severus for later and focused on what happened in the dorm room. The younger Black flushed as he heard about the bet and how Remus was the one to tell Sirius of his activities with James. He had completely forgotten that the boy was in the room when the sordid mess started. 

His brows drew together when Sirius recanted the conversation of the bet and widened when he continued, “And then Rosier said, ‘Perhaps they’re just very good friends like Regulus and Remus are’—which, for the record, we’re not very good friends like you two.”

“What do you mean very good friends like Remus and me?”

“That’s what I wanted to know—” Sirius answered hotly and continued, “and then Rosier started talking to Crouch about the party where you two made out.”

“Me and Barty? What has that got to do with Rem—”

“Not you and Crouch,” Sirius rolled his eyes exasperatedly, “You and Remus.”

A calmness washed over Regulus as he looked at his brother, who was raging with jealousy. He couldn’t help but take pity on the older boy. Sirius had been pining for Remus for years and must have been furious to learn of the secret, non-existent affair between his brother and the boy he was crushing after.

His brother was breathing heavily, and his entire demeanor radiated the energy of a bomb ready for ignition. Regulus leaned forward and placed both hands on either side of Sirius’ face, forcing his brother to look into his eyes as he corrected the falsity: “Sirius, I have never kissed Remus Lupin.”

“Bullshit—”

Sirius tried to tear away Regulus’ hands, but the younger Black tightened his hold on his brother’s face as he repeated firmly, “I have never kissed Remus Lupin.”

Sirius searched his eyes, obviously looking for the lie, but none was to be found, and confusion quickly replaced the fury.

“I’ve only ever kissed Barty,” Regulus said, immediately correcting himself as he sheepishly added, “Well, James, too.”

“But Rosier said—” Sirius recalled as Regulus dropped his hands, “and Remus even confirmed.”

Regulus was drawn out of his hazy thoughts at that, and a broad smile stretched across his face as he looked back up at his brother, “Remus said we kissed?”

Sirius pouted at Regulus’ smile and spat, “He said, ‘Oh, how could I forget. It’s not every day you find yourself snogging Regulus Black.”

The Cheshire smile grew impossibly large, and Regulus leaned in close to whisper to his brother, “Hey, Siri?”

“What?” Sirius snapped at the smug demeanor Regulus was exhibiting.

“You lost the bet.”

Chapter Text

Sirius watched Regulus’ smug smile grow wide, and his brother’s breath ghosted against his lips as he whispered, “You lost the bet.”

The smell of hearty earth filled the air around him, and Sirius found himself lost in the beauty of an unchained Regulus. Gone were the shackles of Black expectations; gone was the sense of decorum his brother maintained even when he thought no one was looking. He looked younger than he ever had, with beautiful lines of merriment adorning his face, and Sirius couldn’t help but observe the wonder speckled in the younger boy’s eyes as Regulus chartered the forgotten world of childish whims and games.

A joyous laugh echoed against the trees that lined the lawn, breaking Sirius out of his reverie, “I—what?”

“You lost!” Regulus laughed.

“What—no.” Sirius denied as he tried to break himself from admiring his brother to salvage the pieces of the picture he couldn’t seem to see.

“How did I lose?” Sirius asked.

“I’m not sure, but they pegged you.” Regulus giggled.

“Trust me, if anyone had pegged me, I would have felt it.”

His brother’s giggles abruptly stopped, and he gave Sirius an unamused look, which made the older boy smile.

“Alright, start back at the beginning,” Regulus demanded, and he listened to Sirius with a determined look on his face.

“I walked in.” Sirius said, “Rosier was being dramatic. Crouch was going on about some bet he had won about James and me—which, by the way, is absurd.”

Sirius had never once thought of James in a romantic way. They had a strictly platonic relationship. Sure, they kissed a couple of times, but friends did that—even Regulus admitted to kissing Crouch, and as far as he knew, there was no relationship there as Crouch was head over heels for Rosier. And sure—he wasn’t blind; he knew James was fit. He couldn’t help if his eyes lingered a little too long in the locker room after quidditch practice, but anyone with working eyes would want to admire someone so—

“Focus, Sirius!” Regulus snapped and derailed his train of thought.

“Right, so Crouch won some bet; Remus had the audacity to say he would have bet along with you all if he had known about it, then Crouch told me to pay up. I went to hand him his money and then Evan—”

“Hold on a minute,” Regulus paused him, and he huffed at the interruption, “You paid him.”

“Yeah—well, I was going to, and then Evan interrupted me and started spouting nonsense about you and Remus.” Sirius paused when he watched his brother’s victorious face beam brightly. "What?”

“You went to pay him.”

“Yeahhhh,” Sirius drew out slowly, as if he were speaking to someone much younger than himself rather than his brother, who was less than a year apart from him in age.

“Immediately.” Regulus added, and Sirius confirmed with a slow nod, unsure where this was going, “Sirius—when have I ever given into anything so easily, especially if it means admitting I was wrong?”

“I—” Sirius struggled to think of a time when he had ever admitted to being wrong about anything and came up short. Everything had always been a challenge when it came to Regulus; it was part of why Sirius loved him. As he realized his error, the blood drained from his face. He lost the bet. He circled back to the night, thought back on his misstep, and found one piece missing from the puzzle.

“What about Remus?”

“What about Remus?” Regulus asked, steel eyes melting into mercury as they shimmered with triumph.

“Remus just went along with what Evan was saying—he wouldn’t have done that unless he had some hint as to what was happening.” Sirius countered.

A thoughtful look crossed his brother’s face as he said, “Well, he watched you try to give the money to Barty; he probably caught on that something was awry.”

“Remus Lupin is not a gambling man. He would have to know with absolute certainty that he was right in his thinking before he went along with any prank.”

Sirius racked his brain for hints from the night before and thought about the calm nature of his friend and how uncharacteristically serene he was at the idea of James and Sirius hooking up. Not that he imagined Remus would be jealous, but there should have been some reaction to his platonic best friends engaging in anything remotely sexual. But there he was, on the ground, leaning against the wall, taking a drag as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and suddenly, he realized, “Remus knew before he came to the dungeons.”

“What?” Regulus asked with a blank expression.

“Yeah—” Sirius continued as he stood up and started pacing, “there is no way he would have walked out of our dorm and down to the dungeons after having seen James and I make out and— stuff —” Sirius couldn’t bring himself to say the words as an unsettling feeling filled his abdomen at the thought of him and James —“and not be bothered in some way.”

“So, you’re saying you think I lost the bet?” Regulus scoffed.

Sirius shook his head as he continued pacing on the grass. He rolled his wrist as he waved his hand, “Run your night back by me.”

Regulus let out a long sigh but conceded as he continued to sit on the grass, “I walked into the tower. James was on the couch, Peter was on the floor at the table, and Remus was reading a book in the chair. I sat down next to James and Peter read my cards. I went back to the dorm and laid down on your bed. James came in afterward with Remus. James laid down on the bed next to me, and Remus sat on his bed; James started teasing me—you—about our dates, as he called them. Then I hit him with a pillow, then he caught my wrists and,” Sirius stopped moving as Regulus took a gulp and continued, “he pinned me down, he gave me—you—us—some really good advice, and then the tosser ruined it with tickling me.”

Sirius stood stock-still as he watched Regulus’ face while the boy recalled the memory. His eyes were not riddled with malice as they usually were whenever his brother referred to his best friend, but something warmer—something lighter. He loved it—he hated it. “Then he asked for a kiss—which made me think you do this sort of thing all the time, so I—” Regulus sighed reluctantly—yet wistfully— ' I let him kiss me. It was—nice. Soft, warm, a small thing, really, but then when it was over, he did it again. And then he rolled his hips—and” Regulus whispered a barely audible curse, but Sirius heard it—the image in his head was wrong. He imagined James rutting against Regulus and felt a jealous fire burning in his chest like indigestion, and then it sank deeper and deeper past his stomach and into his lower abdomen. Then, he realized the falseness of the image he was envisioning. It wasn’t Regulus James was writhing against; it was him, and suddenly, the fire traveled into uncharted territory, and the picture Regulus painted was far too much for him to handle.

“Yeah—let’s skip that bit, shall we?” Sirius croaked out, and that beautiful pink splattered across Regulus’ face, highlighting the sun kissed sprinkles along his brother’s cheeks, which surprisingly did nothing for his current predicament. He turned away and began to pace awkwardly, searching for the hint he knew was there. Sirius stopped and looked toward the sky to see expansive blue and, in the distance, an almost full moon shining brightly down on him in the mid-day. Realization dawned on him, and he could have punched himself for being so carelessly stupid. The full was three days away. “Remus was on the bed?”

“His bed,” Regulus corrected. But the semantics were unnecessary, as he realized it would have been close enough for Remus to smell his brother's vanilla scent rather than his own cedar wood.

Sirius turned with a smile and watched his brother’s face wilt as Regulus gritted out, “What?”

“He knew it was you.” Sirius bounced on the balls of his feet.

“He couldn’t possibly have known it was me. My performance was flawless.” Regulus rebutted.

“Oh, I have no doubt, mon petite frère, but you smell of vanilla, and I would wager Remus could smell it on you,” he said as he plopped himself down on the grass across from Regulus.

“He was on his bed, more than five feet away from me at all times—how could he have smelled it on me?” Regulus countered.

“Because he—” Sirius faltered. As much as he wanted to explain how he had won—and even though he trusted his brother—he couldn’t betray Remus’ trust. It was not his secret to tell, so he bent the truth ever so slightly: “Remus has an excellent sense of smell. Honestly, he’s practically part bloodhound.”

Regulus fixed him with a skeptical stare as he leaned in and mocked his brother’s earlier movements by whispering, “You lost the bet.”

Not one to give up easily, Regulus huffed as he stood, “Fine, we’ll go ask Remus and Evan which of us lost.”

Regulus began to walk away, and suddenly, winning didn’t feel that great anymore. Sirius had expected the pair to last longer but forgot a crucial detail that ruined his plans.

“Wait,” Sirius leapt up after his brother, “Wait. Neither of them has directly said they know.” Sirius reasoned.

Regulus paused and turned back to Sirius, which was enough for him to continue, “So, until we are confirmed to have been caught—we keep going.”

“We know they already know, Siri,” Regulus pointed out.

“Yes—but—” Sirius began with a mischievous smile, “they don’t know we know that they know.”

Regulus scoffed, and Sirius added, “Double or nothing, we keep going—yeah? But we fuck with them. We make them think we have no clue that we’re on to them, and we let chaos reign until someone admits that they know.”

“And what happens when we learn the truth about who actually lost?” Regulus asked curiously.

“Okay—new rules,” Sirius began, “Regardless of who lost first, the real winner is the one to get Remus or Evan to confess they know,” Sirius proposed, “they’re both stubborn bastards, so it’ll be a bit more of a challenge than the previous bet.”

“And how do you propose we provoke it out of them?”

“Now, why would I tell you my plans?” Sirius smirked, knowing full well he was flying by the seat of his pants and desperate for Regulus to agree if only to keep playing the game.

“What about James and Barty?” Regulus asked.

“James and Crouch wouldn’t be able to hold it in. They’ll admit it as soon as they find out,” Sirius provided.

The older boy watched as his brother nodded in agreement. He could see the wheels turning in Regulus’ curly-haired head, trying to find flaws in the new deal. Then, finally, he looked up with a soft smile, “All right—stakes are the same but with an addition.”

“I’m all ears,” Sirius spread his arms wide to match his grin as his brother continued.

“Shortly before the loser drinks the Veritiserum, he has to put on a girl's school uniform, and he can’t take it off until the potion wears off.”

Sirius smirked at his brother as he folded his arms and smirked, “Jokes on you—I look fabulous in a skirt.”

Blush rose to Regulus’ face as Sirius sent him a wink, but his brother smiled behind the flush and said, “So you’re confident you’re going to lose?”

“No—” Sirius scoffed and added flirtatiously as he traced his brother’s body with his eyes, “but if I look good in a skirt, then I have no doubt you would too.”

Almost immediately, he regretted the taunt as the image of Regulus in a short skirt with his creamy thighs bare for him to see plagued his mind and sent a warm shock down his spine.

“We still have fifteen minutes; what do you want to do?” Regulus asked.

Dopily, Sirius’ mouth worked faster than his brain, and he heard himself say in a breathy voice, “Kiss you.”

Both boys sobered instantly with mirrored shock on their faces. The silence that followed was deafening, and Sirius tried his best to recover as he scratched the back of his head, “Well, I kind of have to.”

Regulus narrowed his eyes as his brother floundered. “Why on earth would you have to kiss me?”

“Well—” Sirius stuttered, “you kissed Prongs.”

“I’m failing to connect the dots here.” Regulus deadpanned.

“And I kissed Remus—”

“You what?” His brother’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“I—yeah—did I not—did I not mention that?” Sirius stammered.

“No, Sirius, you left that bit out.” Regulus chided, “Why did you kiss Remus?”

“Well, he—they convinced me you had done it before, and then I tried to play it off like I didn’t remember because I—you were drunk. Then he asked me—you—if I wanted a reminder, and I—I just thought it was something you two did.”

Sirius stumbled over his words, and he watched as Regulus’ stony face burst into laughter.

“My God, we’re terrible at this,” Regulus admitted between his hearty laughs, and Sirius chuckled awkwardly.

“So, how was it?” Regulus asked when he had caught his breath.

“It wasn’t what I expected—” Sirius admitted, “better than I expected, actually.”

Dread filled him instantly at the confession, and he looked up to see a soft, knowing smile across Regulus’ face.

“I—I mean—not that I thought about kissing Remus—just—” Sirius backtracked and was saved by Regulus’ blunt remark.

“The way you two pine over each other is almost as sickening to watch as Evan and Barty. I’m happy for you.” There was the slightest edge to his voice that cut like paper. Not enough to draw blood—but enough to feel—to hear, and Sirius couldn’t decipher its meaning.

“Well, it’s not as if he was kissing me. He was kissing you,” Sirius admitted, recalling the pet name Remus had used.

“At this point—I think we can both concede Remus knew who he was kissing.”

“I—no—'cause he called me—you—Starlight.” Everything seemed so turned around and upside-down Sirius was struggling to keep up.

“Remus has never called me Starlight, Siri. That kiss? That was all for you.” The words dripped like honey from his brother’s tongue—sweet and thick—but stung against the minuscule wounds caused by that irritating edge.

“You have yet to explain why either kiss would warrant us kissing.” Regulus reminded him.

“Well—” Sirius reasoned, “I’m going to try to let James down easy—but he’s a bit of a persistent tosser—so if he kisses me—I need to know how to kiss him back to give a proper performance. And you would need to know how to kiss,” Sirius gulped, “you would need to know how to kiss Remus back if he tried to kiss you.”

Regulus’ brows drew together as he chewed on his lower lip. The thought of kissing James was not as unpleasant as he had previously thought, but still uncomfortable. But the idea of Remus kissing Regulus—or Regulus kissing Remus? Well, he honestly didn’t know which was worse. His thoughts must have shown on his face as Regulus gently placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “We don’t have to do this—pretend—we can call the bet off, and you can just go and be with Remus. I think you’re aware now that he has feelings for you.”

Sirius nodded and warred with himself as he thought about the potential of just admitting everything and asking Remus to be his boyfriend. But that would mean losing out on the game he was playing with Regulus—and the whole point of this bet was to get closer to his brother. So, he straightened up and declined with a smirk, “You’re just scared you’re going to lose.”

His brother rolled his eyes and withdrew his hand as he scoffed, “All right then.”

Sirius idly noted that pink suited Regulus, who blushed profusely and leaned forward, planting a chaste kiss against Sirius' unsuspecting lips. It was so brief that he didn’t even have a moment to react or truly feel anything but shock.

Regulus leaned back and searched Sirius’ face. A slight crease just above Regulus’ pinched brow and a frown marred his beautiful face.

Sirius barked out a laugh and teased, “That’s how you kiss? That’s not a kiss. That was a peck.”

“Well—what do you expect? We’re brothers, Siri. I'm hardly going to kiss you like a lover.” The cut was much deeper than the tiny abrasion of his previous words. But Sirius pushed past it as he stepped forward, placing one hand on his brother’s hip and the other curled into the hair at the nape of Regulus’ neck.

“Brothers, we may be—but we won’t be kissing James and Remus like brothers,” Sirius leaned in and whispered against Regulus’ lips. The younger boy gasped softly as Sirius tightened his hold on his brother’s hair ever so slightly and continued, “And if we’re going to convince them, we’d better do it properly, yeah?”

Sirius looked down at Regulus’ plump pink lips and patiently waited for a sign of permission. It came in the form of a breathy yeah, and Sirius wasted no time closing the gap.

His brother’s lips were warm and wet, and Regulus moved them with a virginal timidness against his own. Soft, pliant, plush skin caressed him lightly, shyly, unhurriedly. It was as if they had all the time in the world to let their lips explore one another. Sirius felt that warm sensation that had been teasing him throughout their date (as James called it) reignite and settle deep within him. Regulus’ kisses were unskilled, but the longer their lips stayed locked in their closed-mouth kisses, the more Regulus melted into his hold. Desperate to explore more of this wondrous feeling, Sirius gripped Regulus’ lower lip, which was well accustomed to the sensation of teeth, and bit lightly. Regulus hissed, and Sirius soothed the sting with a tender tongue before sucking on the supple flesh. His brother gasped, and he took advantage of the opened mouth to slot his tongue against Regulus, and the little shit had the audacity to moan against him. The vibrations sent a shock of pleasure through Sirius that urged him to take more of the willing boy in his arms. Sirius tightened his grip on Regulus’ hair and hip. He was sure to leave bruises there and felt his cock swelling even more than it already was at the thought of purple marks that Remus might find later if his crush decided to explore his brother the way he was. A groan escaped him as he felt his brother’s hardness against his own, and he couldn’t help but try to soothe their twin aches with a bit of friction. Sirius maneuvered their hips to alleviate their conditions. At some point, the brothers had stopped kissing and were content to breathe against each other’s open mouths as they rutted against each other. Melted metal met starlight, and testing the spell they were under, Sirius asked in a breathy voice against Regulus’ open mouth, “Does that feel good?”

Regulus let out a whine behind hazy eyes as he whispered back, “Yeah—I—fuck, Siri—I—”

The pair continued to grind their hips, occasionally offering small kisses, and Sirius lost himself in the high-pitched whines and breathless delights desperate to escape his brother’s body.

A roar of laughter in the distance caused the pair to cease all movement and break apart. Sirius quickly looked at where the noise was coming from and noted the distance before looking back to his brother. It was everything Sirius could do not to come on the spot as he roamed his eyes over the younger boy. Regulus’ chest was heaving, his eyes were wide, and his pupils practically eclipsed his silver irises. His lips were as red as his rosy cheeks, and his clothes were rumpled against his thin frame. Black curls usually tamed to perfection, were tousled, and though the image of his brother in this tantalizing state had Sirius desperate for more, he plucked his wand from his holster and whispered a spell to set everything right again.

He repeated the motion to himself and looked back at his brother. Regulus’ breath had returned to a passing standard, but his eyes stayed as black as his name, threatening to eat him alive with their insatiable hunger.

“Did you get what you needed?” Regulus asked huskily.

Sirius gulped and nodded, “I—yeah, I got what I needed. Did you?”

Regulus let out a shaky breath and whispered, “Yeah.”

Sirius felt James wrap his arm around his shoulder, and he turned to his friend.

“Regulus.”

“Potter,” Regulus tried to match his normal disdain, but Sirius could hear the lack in his voice. With insecurity in his eyes, Regulus gathered himself and set to walk past the two boys, but Sirius shot out a hand and gripped his brother’s arm, “Hey—are we—are we good?”

The metal in his brother's eyes had cooled, and black holes had shrunken back to their normal state. But a small twitch of Regulus’ lips reassured him, and he saw the younger boy pass a glance at his best friend before he whispered, “Yeah, Siri, we’re good.”

Then, quite unexpectedly, Regulus gave him a small peck on the cheek and walked toward his next class.

“Looks like your date went well,” James whispered in his ear.

“Piss off, Prongs,” Sirius said with no real heat as he watched his brother walk away down the corridor.

Chapter Text

When the classes had finished for the day, Sirius felt himself being dragged into an alcove near the library. A plethora of ideas as to who his attacker might be raced through his mind, but he hardly suspected his best friend to treat him with such brute force. He felt his back hit the hard stone and looked up to see familiar blue eyes shining back at him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” James said in the way of an explanation for his rough treatment.

“No, I haven’t.” Sirius lied. The truth was he had been avoiding James. Sirius didn’t want to have the stiff and awkward talk of letting his best friend down easily. In fact, he shouldn’t even be the one having this conversation, but he hardly expected Regulus to be kind about it, so it fell on his shoulders to do the honorable thing.

“Yes, you have.” James rebutted as he caged Sirius with both hands pressed firmly against the wall.

Shortly after he watched his brother stroll out of view after their date, he had made an excuse for why he couldn’t hang out with James as apparently previously planned. Then he decided to skip all the classes he shared with James that afternoon and only went to his final class, History of Magic, where he daydreamed about curly locks and stormy eyes. But it seemed the unavoidable was—well, unavoidable, and it was time to let James down easy. Sirius was confident it wouldn’t ruin their friendship. After all, it was just a kiss—and stuff—and he chalked James’ advances up to hormones and his dry spell due to his ever-growing infatuation with Lily Evans.

“Listen, Prongs,” Sirius began placing one hand on each of James’ hips in an effort to put some distance between them, but to his utter surprise, James took the touch as a come-on, and James leaned in, slotting his thigh between Sirius’. Words died on the elder Black’s tongue as he felt James nuzzle at his neck. 

He felt the cold frames of his best friend’s glasses against his ear and James’ hot breath on his neck as he whispered suggestively, “I’m listening, Sirius.”

Fuck. Sirius had never heard James' voice sound so sultry. The way his name rolled off of his best friend’s tongue in a seductive, yet calming wave made his mind blank, and all he could hear was the static noise of water lifting and sinking to the pattern of the blood that rushed away from his heart and toward his ears and his cock.

James wrapped his hand around the gold and scarlet tie that hung loosely from his neck and tugged lightly. Gravity was Sirius’ enemy as it pulled him closer to the sun-kissed boy. He felt the dull burn against his flesh as James pressed his lips against his neck, and every word that ever existed in the English language abandoned Sirius’ hazy mind. He tried to formulate a sentence—a word—but all that came out was a breathy sigh, and his traitorous body arched, forcing his hips to roll like the waves trapped in his head.

“I—” Sirius managed but failed to add anything further as he felt warm hands slide down his chest and around to lay flat against his back, pulling him in closer.

“You?” James teased—the bastard. Of course, Prongs would take advantage of his delirium to take the piss out of him. A sharp metal frame lightly grazed against his cheek as he moved his lips higher and higher toward Sirius’ mouth. When James reached his destination, he didn’t close the infinitesimal distance between them but hovered and smirked. 

“You had something you wanted to say, Padfoot?”

He knew he shouldn’t indulge in this debauched dance James was leading. Prolonging the inevitable he had already avoided for too long would do more harm than good, and there were other things—other people he had to consider. He had finally gotten to a place with Remus, even though it was shrouded with confusion and mendaciousness, where he felt once the curtain had been pulled back after his little prank that they could be something to each other. And then—there was Regulus to consider. Though as he thought of his brother, his pants tightened even more around his aching cock. But James—Prongs— his best mate, was looking down at him with bright blue eyes. Sirius’ gaze traveled lower and landed upon lush, wet lips that sang a sirenic melody. Drink me, they beckoned, and Sirius found himself reasoning, surely, a taste wouldn’t do any harm.

Sirius closed the gap with a tentativeness that was uncharacteristic for him. At first, he did his best to mimic Regulus’ unsure, inexperienced movements, but as James deepened the kiss, Sirius realized his fatal mistake. He had forgotten to search those lips for the label marked poison and found them positively addictive. Soon, all pretense was forgotten, and he felt himself grow smaller and smaller until he was no more than a piece of driftwood in a vast ocean of pleasure.

Sirius let himself be dragged and pulled across the waves, not minding where they were taking him. His body coiled and tightened, and his lungs felt waterlogged as he continued to kiss James Fleamont Potter. Their tongues danced to the tune of maritime cadences, and suddenly, Sirius was deprived of the sensational feeling of his best friend's mouth as James ordered him to “Breathe, Padfoot.”

The air burned his lungs, and he cursed them for their limited capacity. Once they were full again, he went to dive back into the deep waters again, but a head of black curly hair was caught in the corner of his eye.

Next to a stone-faced Regulus was the boy of his dreams, and suddenly, the taste of James Potter turned bittersweet as he glanced at the indecipherable look on the werewolf's face. James’ brows furrowed, and he turned to see what Sirius was glancing at. He felt his friend wilt ever so slightly at the image of their fellow marauder. Sirius watched Regulus turn to his friend and beckoned him to lower his head. Amber eyes never left Sirius’ silver gaze as his brother whispered into Moony’s ear. The ironclad face buckled into a feral grin as he nodded once to the shorter boy and broke the staring contest with Sirius in favor of searching pyrite eyes. Remus whispered something as he bent down. Regulus nodded and moved his hands across Remus’ chest and around his neck.

Green fire coursed through Sirius as he watched his five-year-long crush, and his brother grow closer and closer. He could barely hear James’ heavy breaths over the pounding in his ears. His grip on James’ hips tightened, and just as he was about to push his best friend off of him in a jealous rage, he saw Remus, who was centimeters away from Regulus’ lips, give him the briefest glance followed by a wink.

The moon devoured his lion’s heart with a searing kiss. Sirius watched as they melted together, lips and teeth and flesh. The kiss seemed to last forever, and the more time passed, the dimmer that green fire became, giving way to the white-hot heat that reignited his cock. James and Sirius watched the pair continue to bite and lick and suck at each other’s lips, and the celestial collision teased Sirius’ eyes like a small cake labeled: eat me. And with hungry eyes, Sirius obeyed gorging himself on the salacious sight and felt himself grow larger and larger.

“Fuck” he heard James' moan as he looked back at Sirius. The elder Black hadn’t even realized he was thrusting his hips against James’ thigh as he watched Remus and Regulus. Sirius felt ashamed as his gaze shifted back to James, whose eyes were practically black, and he stilled his movements and furrowed his brow when a mischievous smile crossed James’ face.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” James whispered as he leaned in, sliding one hand up to cup Sirius’ jaw and forcing him to watch the obscene performance made for him.

“You’re going to be a good boy, and you’re going to keep your eyes open, yeah?” James purred against his ear.

Sirius whimpered at the demand but obeyed, watching Remus run his hands through his brother’s hair and tug down lightly, giving the younger boy a better angle.

James ghosted his lips against Sirius’ and mocked him as he watched the unlikely pair make out in the middle of the empty hallway.

“Tell me, Sirius,” James breathed against his lips, “because I know you have been pining for Moony for ages. I may be thick, but I’m not blind. Is it the image of Remus kissing someone who looks so much like you that has you hot and bothered?”

Sirius whined as James continued to tease, “Or perhaps it’s more specific than that. Is it because it’s Regulus?”

An unbidden moan echoed in the alcove, and James smiled in the corner of Sirius’ eyes with victory and hammered the nail further, “You like watching Moony and your brother making out in front of you? I can’t blame you, honestly. They look so fucking good together.”

James assisted Sirius’ gratification by thrusting back against him, and a groan escaped James as he turned back to the image. The pair watched Remus lift Regulus to wrap the younger boy's legs around his waist and push him into the wall behind the more petite boy.

“Fuck—look at them.” James encouraged and continued his assault on Sirius’ ears, “Reggie is so small up against him. I’ll bet he’s a virgin, too—prissy little thing. Do you think he could take Remus’ cock?”

The Sun, the moon, and a bright star swirled around Sirius’ eyes, making him impossibly dizzy. They all grew brighter and brighter until suddenly, all Sirius could see was a blinding light. The sound of twin groans of release echoed in his ears, and he and James came against each other in their trousers.

Sirius had to remember how to breathe again and then consciously reminded himself to do so. His eyes were closed, heightening his other senses—the sound of his own heart beating like a little white rabbit out of time, the feel of James’ pants against his face, the smell of citrus divinity that permeated the air around him, and the taste of cherry tart from James' lunch still lingered on his tongue. Eventually, his breathing returned to normal, and the rush of blood in his veins calmed. He opened his eyes to see James, and the pair looked over to see Remus and Regulus still working themselves into a frenzy.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Barty—he said he was going to meet us in the library.” Rosier’s bored drawl came echoing around the corner.

“That was ages ago—” Barty whined, “he should have already met us.”

Sirius looked at James with frantic eyes, and his friend quickly cast a cleansing charm on the pair of them. The boys rushed toward the unassuming pair, but neither Remus nor Regulus noticed their presence. James cleared his throat, and Regulus opened his eyes to see James and Sirius. Remus continued his lavishing on the smaller boy's throat as if he were attempting to tear open the flesh and build a home inside of the boy’s neck. His brother’s hazy eyes fluttered and then snapped abruptly when James said, “Crouch and Rosier are about to come around the corner.”

The younger boy went deathly, still at the warning, but Remus—. The moon was three days away, and his animalistic urges were always more prominent around that time of the month.

James placed his hand on Remus’ shoulder and called out, “Moony,”

A snarl erupted from the werewolf, but he didn’t stop.

“That’s enough, Moony,” James warned with a deep, challenging timber, but Remus was too far gone in the pleasurable feeling of Regulus’ flesh between his teeth. Despite the precarious situation, Sirius couldn’t blame him—not when he had tasted that malleable flesh for himself only hours ago.

“Right,” James huffed, pulling Remus off the boy and pushing him into the cold, hard stone. Sirius quickly grabbed Regulus and pulled him into his arms and away from the wolf who was determined to make a meal out of his younger brother.

Remus’ eyes had a golden hue that Sirius had only ever seen from Moony on a full moon, and a thrill of arousal ran through him like a bolt of lightning. The brothers watched as James persisted and pushed back against the defiant werewolf. His body was flush against Remus, and he was whispering calm but firm words as he stared directly into those golden eyes.

“There you are!” Crouch yelled down the hall, “fucking finally!”

All eyes snapped to toward the interruption. James and Remus pulled themselves apart and Sirius looked at his brother, who was facing away from the two Slytherins, and quickly cast a series of charms to hide the evidence of their depravity.

“You said you would meet us in the library ages ago!” Crouch whined as he dramatically wrapped his arms around the younger Black.

“Barty, it’s been fifteen minutes,” Regulus gave his best unbothered drawl.

“You’re never late,” Barty said skeptically, pushing back to inspect his friend.

“Yes, well, my brother doesn’t seem to understand the concept of timeliness and kept me away.” Regulus explained as he straightened his cuff and gave Rosier a solemn look, “My apologies, Evan.”

“I—what? Where are my apologies?” Crouch sputtered indignantly as he pulled away from his friend.

“My apologies are not for my tardiness but for having to put up with you in my absence.” Regulus explained, then addressed Rosier again, “Truly, you have the patience of a saint.”

“You’ve no idea,” Rosier agreed gravely.

Crouch looked back and forth between his friends and pouted, “None of you love me.”

Regulus and Rosier rolled their eyes collectively at Crouch’s antics and with a final look at Sirius, Regulus licked his bruised lips and turned toward Remus to ask suggestively, “You coming, Lupin?”

Moony had calmed down, but a flash of golden light flickered in his eyes at the wicked taunt.

Remus pushed himself off the wall, walked past Sirius with a smirk, and wrapped his arm around Regulus. The only form of goodbye Sirius received was Rosier’s curious gaze before he turned to join his mates in their pursuit of the library.

Quietness fell in the hallway as the boys rounded the corner and left Sirius alone with James. The chaser slid his palm over his face and looked toward Sirius with an indecipherable stare before he smiled sheepishly. The silence was broken as the clocktower rang, signaling the time, and James went white with panic.

“Fuck—” he whispered, “I’m late for quidditch.”

James began to hurry away frantically and leave Sirius alone with his new revelations, but the sudden pounding of running footsteps toward him made Sirius look up again. James trapped both cheeks in his hands, “No more avoiding me, yeah? We’ll talk after practice.”

A tender, closed-mouthed kiss was placed on Sirius’ lips before the warm feeling of James Potter abandoned him completely, leaving him to wonder how he had gotten himself into such a mess.

Chapter Text

Remus was lost in a fog of memory as he walked toward the courtyard. Peter was in divination taking his exam, James was in the Gryffindor tower working on homework to get ahead since he had quidditch practice later that night, and Sirius had a free period, but he had allotted that time for family bonding, leaving Remus to his own devices. There was a quietness that the werewolf hardly got to experience due to his rowdy friends causing mischief. He supposed that's why he enjoyed hanging out with the Slytherins.

Barty was a manic little demon sometimes, but even demons need rest every once in a while. Sometimes he could find the boy in the library or the dungeons with his head in Evan's lap, content to just lay there and feel the hand carding through his hair idly as the blond boy read a book—sometimes aloud, sometimes silently. However, Remus noticed a hidden pattern. Evan Rosier only read romantic adventures out loud. The kind where two independent protagonists quarreled and challenged each other as they worked toward a common goal. He couldn't help but notice sometimes the pair would reenact rows from the novels without meaning to. It was truly a wonder they were so blind to see the apparent adoration they held for each other.

Remus let his mind wander then trailed after it, picking up the baubles and breadcrumbs it left behind in an effort to encourage  him to follow it. When he looked up from the dirt path, he found his mind had arrived at a black sky with only a bright shining star to guide him.

He had always imagined that touching that star would char him, but when he kissed Sirius last night, it was like a cool balm on his heart, which had burned for what felt like a lifetime. Of course, after he had his moment and woke up with a clear head—guilt strapped itself to his conscience like heavy iron chains, weighing him down the more he dwelled on his actions the night before.

He shouldn’t have kissed him—not like that. But there was a good chance it would be his only chance, so he chanced it, and by chance, Sirius didn’t lean away but rather into his touch.

But was it real, or was Sirius just playing along—pretending to be enthusiastic for the sake of whatever prank he had concocted with Regulus? There would be no way of telling until the Black brothers’ little ruse was finished, and Remus began to pick at the skin around his nails as he leaned against the archway.

“That’s a terrible habit you have there, Lupin.” A sultry familiar voice chimed like silver cylinders rattling in a soft summer breeze.

“Rosier,” he greeted with a nod, not bothering to look up at the blonde boy who had saddled up next to him as he focused on the peeling skin around his clean beds.

“Thinking about a heavenly body?” Evan mocked, and Remus couldn’t help the scoff that left him as he lifted his head to stare into crystal blue eyes, promising mischief and mayhem.

“What do you want, Rosier?”

“I want to know what you’re thinking about,” Evan said with a Cheshire grin. “Or, more importantly,” blue eyes roamed over Remus’ body, and he felt himself grow hot under the scrutiny. “Who you’re thinking about?”

A heavy sigh left his lips as he mumbled, “Sirius.”

“Ahhh,” Evan said knowingly, “you mean Regulus.”

“No,” the tawny-haired boy denied, “I mean Sirius.”

“Yes, but Sirius is Regulus, and Regulus is Sirius, so if you’re thinking of Sirius, surely you mean to say you’re thinking of Regulus; otherwise, you would have said Regulus to convey that you meant Sirius.”

A dumbfounded look crossed Remus’ face as he stared at Evan Rosier, who made perfect nonsense.

“Regulus, then.”

“Hmmm, so you’re thinking of Regulus.”

“What—no—I—you’re mad, and you’re driving me mad. Go away.” Remus shooed the boy next to him, but to his dismay, the rose stayed firmly planted.

“I don’t think I will.” Evan said, and after precisely forty-six seconds of silence, he added, “How long do you think these fools intend to keep going?”

“Knowing Sirius until someone catches him,” Remus admitted.

“He’s already been caught,” Evan pointed out.

Remus hummed and rephrased his response, “Until someone calls them out on it then.”

“What happens if no one calls them out on it?” The unspoken challenge lingered between them, but Remus was clever enough to pick up on it.

“I would wager no more than three days,” Remus knew Sirius was unable to sit still the way Regulus was nor could he keep from boasting how he had fooled everyone with his clever wit. He also knew Regulus well enough to wager he couldn’t keep up with Sirius’ usual antics. Both boys were sure to tire eventually, and Sirius had a track record of not being committed to anything for more than three days.

“I think they’ll last a week.” Evan bargained, “In the meantime, I think it would be fun to fuck with them.”

“Fuck with them, how?”

"Regulus is wound tighter than McGonagall's hair, and Sirius has never sat long enough to notice things right in front of him." Evan explained, "I think it would do Regulus some good to live on the wild side and for Sirius to learn to be still—to take a moment to really observe all that he misses by constantly moving."

Remus ignored the obvious dig at his friend. He didn't share Evan's view that Sirius couldn't see what was before him but thought what his friend saw left him wanting.

"You didn't answer my question, Rosier." Remus was growing irritated by the riddles. He looked up to see a nearly full moon shining proudly against the light blue autumn sky. 

"I did, actually—perhaps you just weren't listening." Evan retorted.

A familiar scent drifted through the air on a light breeze, tickling the werewolf's nose. He looked past Evan to see Regulus—Sirius— Regulus —right? The boy drew closer, and his senses were overloaded by the combination of scents: vanilla, cedarwood, cinnamon, lavender, arous—wait, what ? Remus searched every inch of Regulus with his eyes since his nose was clearly failing him. Blush settled deep in the ivory cheeks, and if Remus hadn't seen him walk up to them, he would have thought Regulus had run to them. The low sounds of heavy breaths, as if the boy were exerting effort to remember how to breathe properly, brushed against his ears, and the faint echo of a rapidly beating heart pounded on his ear drums. Remus could taste Sirius' lemon tart magic on the more petite boy and feel Regulus' unsatisfied arousal thicken the air around the trio.

It was Regulus—definitely Regulus. He was 99% certain of it.

"Hi Moo—Remus," 87% sure. Regulus was just fucking with him. Right? He knew the boy was aware of their nicknames, though he never used them himself, and this just had to be part of the prank.

"Regulus," He said with a hoarse voice as the smell of unsated passion melded with the scent of the two brothers.

The boy tore his gaze away from Remus, giving him a slight reprieve from the mirthful gaze of Sirius—Regulus? No. Sirius. Fuck .

"Where is Barty?" The undetermined Black asked.

Evan scoffed, "How do you expect me to know?"

Remus and Regulus—Sirius—fucking Regulus fixed Evan with a sardonic stare, and the rose wilted under the pressure of their mocking gazes, "He's with Pandora in the greenhouses."

Regulus hummed non-committally and left the pair without a word as he presumably walked off to find Barty and Pandora. When the boy was out of sight, Remus looked to Evan for a clue that the Slytherin might know which brother they were speaking to. But his lips were downturned, and his brow was heavily furrowed with puzzlement.

"Regulus, right?" Evan asked as he turned toward the werewolf.

"Yeah," Remus nodded, "Definitely Regulus."

He was 54% sure.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus was walking down from the Astronomy tower when he ran into Regulus—definitely Regulus. The scent of Sirius from their date had faded significantly along with the intoxicating smell of lust and left behind the vanilla and cinnamon aroma Remus was so used to from the younger Black. He felt the world tilt back on its axis, resuming its regular rotation as he looked at his Slytherin friend. “Regulus.” He said confidently, and the boy smirked, shifting his world ever so slightly to the left once again. “Where are you off to?”

“I promised Barty and Evan I would meet them in the library. Care to join?” As the pair walked down the hall and toward the library, Remus could hear faint whispers echoing from the alcove further down the empty hallway.

“Something you wanted to say, Padfoot?” A familiar drawl echoed in his ear and licked down his spine, freezing him on the spot. Regulus paused when Remus failed to make his feet, which had been transfigured to lead move. In the corner of his eye, he could see Regulus turn to search for what had caused Remus to halt his steps—his breath—his beating heart. The tiny gasp from beside him, combined with the vision of James Potter and Sirius Black pressed so tightly that not even a grain of sand could pass between them, made his skin itch and burn. He was hypnotized as his star grew brighter and brighter under the careful ministrations of the sun, and he felt his heart grow heavy and tight, matching the insurmountable arousal pooling in his groin. Regulus’ breathing became uneven, and a sweet, musky scent gathered and settled just below his upper lip.

“Breathe, Padfoot,” he heard James say, and though the command was meant for his friend, Remus felt himself obeying it with just as much effort as the doped-up boy before him. Trapped inside his euphoric haze, Sirius leaned in and paused when his eyes finally landed on the pair in the hall. Remus expected Sirius to break away instantly, but he didn’t. Sirius just stood helplessly in his best friend’s arms while his eyes drifted from Regulus to Remus.

When Sirius’ starlight eyes finally landed on amber grains, Remus held him there—pierced him through—forcing him to keep his sights on the werewolf.

From beside him, Remus heard Regulus lightly whisper for him to lean down. He yielded to the younger Black’s request, but he never once lost sight of the twin black holes staring directly at him, devouring his every movement.

“I think it’s high time my brother got a taste of his own medicine, don’t you, Remus?” Regulus conspired in his ear, “Make it look good, Lupin. Show my brother exactly what he’s missing.”

It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment how vindictive Regulus could be. But memories of the night before with James on top of the boy beside him flashed in his mind, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the idea that Sirius wasn’t the only one who was missing out—even if James was helplessly unaware. Perhaps a demonstration would help to illuminate his dear Prongs to alternative options and leave his fucking star alone.

He nodded once and averted his gaze to see similar blackness in the younger brother’s eyes. “You sure about this, little lion?” Remus asked, and a thrill of fear and lust tangled together and roped themselves around Remus’ body, holding him back until Regulus nodded. He could practically feel the wet pink lips against his, though they weren’t touching yet, and in a moment of malicious defiance, Remus flicked his gaze back to his sun-kissed star and sent him a suggestive wink before closing the gap.

There was nothing tentative about his first kiss with Regulus. He had let the boy's words cut into his heart and bury themselves there, and he fully intended on giving Sirius Black a damn good show. But somewhere between the bruising kisses, sweet nips, and melted tongues, he heard and felt a tiny moan from beneath him that ruined him. It was too close to the moon, and his inhibitions were low, allowing him to be bolder, more dominating, and unrelenting as he did his best imitation of a cannibal and feasted on the smaller boy. He wrapped his hands around the boy's waist and growled as his thumbs and middle fingers almost touched each other. Remus felt the gravitational pull from the moon urging him to take and take and take, and Regulus Black melted into his hold like molten iron, waiting for Remus’ firm hands to smelt and mold him into whatever he wished.

Heady scents washed together and fueled the fire ablaze in Remus. He could hear James’ commanding words and salacious theories in the distance. The werewolf listened at the whines and groans and moans of Sirius taunting him, egging him on to keep going—not to stop until he had swallowed his little brother entirely, and as James alluded to the illicit taboo and the obscene suggestion, Remus Lupin saw black.

In the darkness, Remus latched on to anything he could feel—smooth, supple flesh, soft, loose curls, unwanted fabric.

The itch was unbearable and everywhere. His palms, his chest, his cock, and Remus only felt soothed if he was running his hands along the boy before him, rutting his body against the boy plastered against him, rubbing the pair of hardened sticks between them, burning away the itch that seemed to consume him. The warm body attached to him made the most delicious sounds as he trapped the tender flesh against his teeth and sucked and lapped at the salty sweetness bubbling to the surface. Muffled voices called his name, but Remus couldn’t hear beyond the heavy panting and the thunderous drumming of their hearts. He felt the body beneath him still, but he was a man possessed by the wolf inside him and couldn’t tear himself away. Two strong hands latched onto him from behind and turned him around, slamming him against a hard, cold stone. He moved to push the boy in front of him away, only to be thrust back against the wall again. 

The boy pressed himself against him and whispered, “You need to calm down, Remus.” 

The call of his name snapped something in him, and the darkness dissipated in the presence of the sun.

Calm blue waters poured into his own golden fire and soothed the burning of his flesh as he whispered, "Rosier and Crouch are just around the corner. I know they’re your friends, but I don’t think you’re ready for them to know all your secrets, are you?”

Remus shook his head slightly, and James continued to put pressure on his body as he continued, “I didn’t think so. Rosier is clever—Crouch, too. And they will know something is awry, so I need you to calm down for me. Deep breaths, yeah?”

Remus did his best to match James’ breathing and finally got to a point where he could focus properly when he heard Barty’s loud voice echo in the hall, “There you are! Fucking finally!”

The tether that bound James and Remus snapped as the Slytherins approached.

Remus watched Sirius quickly work his wand over Regulus and himself, leaving behind a lemon tart scent. He watched with the brothers with clear eyes and had to admit that Regulus Black was a terrific actor. His bored drawl and stoic face gave away nothing of the indecent activities the younger boy had just been a part of, but his jackrabbit heart raced as though Regulus were running a marathon. He looked over toward the elder Black to see his eyes fixed on his brother in a very unbothered stare, and Remus could practically taste the salty arousal on his tongue. Suddenly, the odd combination of smells from earlier made so much sense, and a smirk at the hidden knowledge stretched across his white-lined face.

Regulus gave his brother a teasing look and licked his lips before turning to Remus. " You coming, Lupin?”

The little lion man threw him an audacious look, and Remus had to control himself from continuing what he had started. He pushed himself off the wall and sauntered to Regulus, glancing at Sirius and all his flustered glory as he wrapped his arm around the younger boy. The pair walked toward the library, and when Evan caught up to them in long strides, the boy looked up at Remus, “Given any thought to my proposal?”

Remus glanced over his shoulder toward his best mates as the four rounded the corner.

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

Chapter Text

Sweat dripped from James’ body as he raced up the never-ending staircase toward Gryffindor Tower. Quidditch practice was a complete bust because his mind kept drifting toward soft black waves, harsh stoney glares, and amber eyes. His thoughts bounced from one boy to the next, and it was hard to juggle the images flashing before his eyes as he flew in the air. He didn’t even get to try the new move he had planned because his mind was focused on other moves he wanted to discover. His imagination ran wild as he thought of a different broom between his thighs, and James Potter was forced to do something he had never done before. He ended quidditch practice early. So early, when James opened the door to his dorm, startling Sirius so severely that his friend turned into Padfoot and scurried toward the bed, hiding underneath it. James let out a low chuckle while he placed the broom in his hand against the wall and walked toward the bed, crouching to see his timid friend with his paws over his eyes.

“You’re avoiding me again, Padfoot. Do I need to remind you that I won’t tolerate such nonsense from you?”

Padfoot whimpered and removed his paws but stayed firm in his spot, so James sprawled out on the floor between Sirius’ and Remus’ bed.

“We’re friends, right? Best friends. Practically brothers.” James exhaled as he looked up toward the ceiling, offering Sirius a modicum of privacy. He heard Padfoot huff, and he couldn’t help but giggle in the light of new revelations that had been shed on him earlier that afternoon.

“Alright, Pads, let’s play a game,” James suggested, coming up with a clever idea to coax the anxiety out of his friend. “Pretend I’m not in the mix. Replace my name with someone else’s. Just tell me what you’re thinking. You always tell me what’s on your mind, and this—especially this— should be no different. But if it makes you feel better to talk to me about it, pretend it’s some other bloke we’re talking about.”

Padfoot huffed and shuffled from underneath the bed and settled next to James, who instinctively began to stroke Padfoot’s fur. Without warning, the dog beside him transformed into Sirius, and he began to speak quietly but carefully—as if he were choosing his words meticulously. “So, a friend of mine—Frank—”

“Longbottom?” James played along, and Sirius let out a chuckle.

“Yeah. Longbottom. So, Frank—out of nowhere started kissing me. I’ve never thought of Frank like that before.” A lie they both knew because Frank was fit as fuck, and they had both talked about his appeal at length, “but fuck he’s a good kisser. And I wasn’t prepared for him to be so fucking good at it, but Merlin, the man can kiss.”

It was hard for James to keep his comments to himself, but he did his best to douse the swelling pride that burned in his chest at the idea that Sirius, who was no stranger to kissing, thought that he was a phenomenal kisser.
“So, what’s the issue?”

“Well—there are several. For starters—” Sirius swallowed thickly and avoided James’ gaze as he admitted the shameful truth, “I also—sort of—well not sort of—definitely—not sort of—ugh—ikissedRegulustoo.”

James was unable to hold back his reaction to this news. A soft moan escaped his lips, and he had to adjust his quidditch trousers to relieve the swelling that was caused by the mental image of Regulus and Sirius engaging in a passionate kiss. He’d always found both brothers incredibly attractive. Anyone with eyes would agree. Hell—a blind man would have to agree because they shone so brightly separately but together? They erased every bit of darkness from the world. His mouth felt grainy and dry as he croaked out, “And how was that?”

Sirius sighed wistfully as he looked up at the ceiling, “I’ve never truly had a home, James. The closest I’ve ever come is the Potter Manor and even then—not to say I’m not grateful for everything your family has done for me—it’s not exactly mine. But kissing Regulus? It felt like what I imagine coming home would feel like. It was warm and inviting, and fuck if I can’t get it off my mind. And kissing yo—Frank?”

Sirius blushed at his error, “kissing Frank was equally devastating. But the kicker is I’m still head over heels for Remus. I know we’ve never outright talked about it, but—I’m in love with him, Prongs. Have been since second year. And apparently, he’s been kissing my brother—and the worst part is—I can’t even fucking blame him. And part of me is heartbroken because he seems to want Regulus, but then Regulus said—” Sirius paused, and though James was desperate to know what Regulus said, he wasn’t going to push, “well—it doesn’t matter. The point is the boy I’ve been pining over is out here kissing my brother, and I’m conflicted because they’re perfect for each other, honestly. And I want them both to be happy, but I’m also selfish and want them for myself.”

“Together or separately?” James asked curiously.

“Does it matter? I can’t have either of them the way I want them.”

James hummed as he continued to stroke Sirius’ soft, black hair.

“And then there’s Frank—” Sirius stuttered out a breath as he managed to find the courage to look up at James, “Our friendship means the world to me, but I want—and I shouldn’t because you know that he holds a torch for Lil—Alice. And I still don’t see him in a romantic way but physically?” Sirius groaned and pressed his legs together, “Well—that doesn’t matter either because I’m not willing to sacrifice a lifelong friendship over something as trivial as sex.”

“Who says you have to be involved romantically?” James questioned, “Friends kiss and stuff. We could be those kinds of friends.”

“What do you mean, like friends with benefits?” Sirius scoffed and looked up at James’ face.

“Why not? You’re pining for your fella, and I’m pining for my gal. What’s wrong with a couple of friends helping each other out with their—tension?”

“You don’t see any issues with this?”

James thought for a moment and couldn’t think of any potential problems. They both cared about each other in the ways that mattered, and it was just sex—no romance attached. James shook his head, and Sirius sighed.

“And what happens if one of us starts to develop feelings?” Sirius pointed out.

“Now, why would we go and do a foolish thing like that?” James laughed and rubbed Sirius’ head playfully, making a mess of the tamed waves.

“You think you could resist my charms, James Potter?” Sirius whispered seductively against James’ ear, and his spine shivered at the taunt.

“Have done for the past five years, Black.”

“Yes, but you haven’t been shagging me for the past five years. That tends to change things for some people.” Sirius noted.

“Yeah—but we’re not some people. We’re James and Sirius. Prongs and Padfoot.” James said confidently, then added, for Sirius’ benefit, “How about you sleep on it, yeah? And in the morning, you can either tell me to bugger off, and I will, or you can tell me to bugger you, and I will.” 

Sirius chuckled and let out a sigh. The pair of boys stayed in each other’s arms, glancing up at the ceiling until Peter and Remus bounded through the door, startling them out of their separate thoughts.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus walked up toward Gryffindor Tower after a surprisingly quiet night with the Slytherins. Regulus and Remus didn’t discuss what had happened in the hallway before Barty and Evan showed up. They just kept to their routine of silently studying. Occasionally, the werewolf could feel his friend’s eyes on him, but every time he looked up, Regulus’ head was in his book. Upon reaching the Gryffindor common room, he ran into Peter, who had fallen asleep on the couch. Despite the gentle nudge Remus gave the sleeping boy, Peter woke up just as startled as if Remus had yelled his name in the boy's ear. The mousey boy gathered his books once his heart rate had settled a bit and leaned on Remus for support in his tired state. The pair wound up hurtling through the door as Remus clumsily tripped over the rug, and he found James and Sirius lying on the floor, fully clothed. The smell of arousal was absent—thank Merlin for small favors—but James gave Sirius a quick peck on the forehead and whispered something into his ear before they got up and went to their respective beds. As Remus traveled to his own bed and stared at the painted ceiling, he thought about how odd it was to see them go to separate beds. Maybe they had decided to stop fooling around? The thought soothed his jealous heart, then immediately pained him, and he couldn’t fathom why. The soft rustling of his closed curtains gritted against his tender ears. The full was coming soon, and everything seemed to put him on edge. He hoped these swelling thoughts and feelings would diminish once the darkness cast over her again, but he doubted it. He looked over to see James’ head comically peeking through the curtains.

“Moony, can I come in?” James whispered with nervousness in his voice.

Remus nodded silently, too on edge to speak, and James crawled in to sit on the bed. Remus looked back up at his stars.

After a moment of insecure silence and unsteady breathing from the boy in his bed, James finally asked, “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Remus brought his fingers and thumb toward the bridge of his nose and pinched to stave off the oncoming headache of the conversation he was not ready for but needed to have.

“What specifically would you like to talk about?”

“All of it.”

“All of what, James? Pick a point to start with,” Remus said a bit too harshly, but James took it in stride. After four years of helping Remus through the moons, he knew what to take to heart and what not to.

“How about we start by talking about what’s going on with you and Regulus?” James asked gently and waited as Remus sighed and fixed his eyes on the white heart of the lion swimming in the navy sky above them.

“Nothing is going on.” Remus denied and cringed as James fixed him with an unimpressed stare.

“It didn’t look like nothing in the corridor.” James pushed, “It looked a hell of a lot like more than nothing.”

Remus remained silent, and though James could see his body stiffen, he continued, “You were gone, Remus. What I saw? That was all Moony.”

James could practically see the heavy weight on Remus’s chest, and it pained him to think friend hated any part of himself.

“And Remus?” The tawny-haired boy hummed against the silence of the night, “He was beautiful.”

Remus’ eyes shot open, and he stared into James’ summer sky eyes—clear and blue. The boy could feel the werewolf search his eyes for a trace of falsity but found no lies there, and James continued, “he was raw and passionate, and fuck —he was perfect.” You’re perfect, James thought but didn’t linger on the words or the effect the confession had; instead, he pushed through, “And Regulus? He just melted against you. So don't lie to me and tell me it was nothing. That it is nothing.”
Remus studied his friend for a moment, nodded once, and resumed perusing the heavenly bodies plastered on the ceiling.

“I heard you, you know?” Remus admitted, and James tilted his head in confusion, so the werewolf elaborated, “What you said to Sirius in the alcove.”

“Oh?” James said with an even voice despite the heat rising to his cheeks and the desperate pounding of his heart. The chaser knew he hadn’t fooled Remus when James saw the smirk settle on his friend’s face, but he still played the game as if there was a chance of winning.

“Which part?” James asked, suddenly fascinated by the crimson pattern on Remus’ duvet.

“All of it,” Remus said with a hungry growl as he propped himself on his elbows.

“And I can’t help but wonder whose benefit you said it for, Sirius’ or mine.” Remus’ brow raised questioningly as he patiently waited for unspoken truths in their makeshift confessional.

“Why not both?” James challenged.

“So, Sirius fancies me,” Remus said softly with a bit of reluctance. He couldn’t fathom why a boy like Sirius would ever deign to love a monster like him.

James hummed quietly, “And Regulus, apparently.”

The pair stared at each other for a long, silent second before bursting out into a fit of giggles that had James collapsing over himself in the bed. After the pair had calmed, James settled in to lay down next to Remus and gaze up longingly at the night sky, lovingly etched for Remus’ benefit. He saw scores of constellations and a bright, large full moon that Sirius had manufactured

with love and accuracy. James recalled when his best friend had been determined in 3rd year to recreate the heavens for their beloved Moony.

“Sirius, why in Merlin’s name are you painting a fucking full moon. Don’t you think that’s a bit—I don’t know—insensitive?” James had asked nervously.

“He never gets to enjoy it, James. When was the last time he witnessed a full moon with his own eyes? When he was four? He never gets to see how beautiful it is. This way, he’ll be able to see it as Remus.”

Remus’ voice wrangled James out of his memory as he asked, “So you’re not weirded out by Sirius and Regulus?James blinked and flushed deeply as he stuttered, “I—well—no—I mean—they’re brothers, but like— they’re brothers, you know? It’s kind of—it’s kind of hot, right?”

James turned his head to gauge Remus’ reaction. Though he softly hummed in agreement, the sun-kissed boy could see Remus shift his legs to hide his obvious arousal at the idea of the black brothers together.

“You know, I never noticed how much Regulus looks like Sirius. They’re practically twins.” James noted idly and smiled curiously when Remus burst out into a fit of laughter.

Tears were forming in the corners of Remus’ eyes, making them shine brightly in the night, and James felt a sudden spasm in his chest but brushed it off quickly.

“What’s so funny?” A crooked smile of confusion at the sudden outburst, but Remus just shook his head.

“Nothing.” The werewolf giggled, and the pair returned to looking up toward the heavens.

“Hey, Moony?”

“Yes, Prongs?”

“Do you want me to stop kissing Sirius?”

Silence slipped between the two boys and gripped their throats. Neither of the marauders breathed, and the only sound was the twin pair of hearts that beat rapidly until Remus finally answered in a sure and steady voice, “Ask me again in the morning, Prongs.”

James nodded once and moved to leave Remus in the solitude of sleep, but a firm hand yanked him back down.

“Go to sleep, James,” Remus whispered, closing his eyes and settling in for the night.

As James drifted in and out of consciousness in his friend’s warm bed, his eyes traveled upward, tracing the lion’s heart, the Dog Star, and the full moon and as he succumbed to his slumber, he wondered if there was any room for a sun among them.

Chapter Text

Despite the promise of conversations from both Sirius and Remus, James woke up with only one thing on his mind: Regulus. Or, more specifically, talking to Regulus and trying to knock some sense into that great thick head of his. Seeing Sirius so broken the night before over his illicit and decidedly not fraternal feelings for his brother, he decided to give the younger Black a push. No—not a push. A nudge. A gentle nudge. Regulus needed perspective from someone who knew him and knew him well. And who better to provide insight into the inner workings of Sirius Black than his own best friend?

So, with determination and courage, James Potter walked into the Great Hall for breakfast and made a beeline for the Slytherin table. He could see Regulus sitting next to a beautiful blonde girl with a blue and bronze tie and the back of two heads, one whose hair matched the platinum Ravenclaw not in length but in color and texture. The other had chocolate strands that gave the appearance of organized chaos, seemingly placed meticulously to give the appearance of apathy and unruliness. The gap between the two boys was wide enough that no one could sit on the other side of them but narrow enough to where no one in their right mind would dare to try and fit between the two.

James stood behind the two boys, who didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence, but he could sense they were fully aware of him and flashed a winning smile that threatened to falter the longer Regulus stared at him like he had wings sprouting from his head rather than ears.

They all had a full plate of food before them, and despite this, the Ravenclaw seemed to be helping herself to another plate. James could sense he would not get an invitation to sit, verbal or written, so he decided to invite himself and squeezed in next to Rosier and Crouch. A huff from the blonde on his right and a sharp curse from the brunette on his left made his position clear: He was not wanted here. But that was no matter. He was determined to get a word with Regulus, and though he would prefer it to be in private, he wasn’t above speaking his mind in front of the others, though he would have to tread lightly so as not to reveal secrets between the brothers to the rest of the group.

He sat expectantly, waiting for Regulus to break, but his eyes were strained with forced malice, and in the end, James broke his stare to glance at the plate being pushed toward him.

“For the love of Merlin, Dora,” Evan said, “don’t feed it. It’s likely to take it as an invitation to come back.”

“Not that an invitation would be necessary as he seems to have invited himself,” Crouch mumbled as he stabbed at the potato on his plate, causing the prongs to clash loudly against the plate.

“Thank you, Pandora,” James chirped as he lifted his arms to pour himself some pumpkin juice. The space between Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum was quite tight, as they refused to move, so he accidentally banged his elbow on the table when he brought his arms back down, and the chuckle on his left grated on his nerves.

James looked up to Regulus, who was still just as stoic as before, and asked, “Can I be frank?”

Regulus tilted his head and lifted a brow before looking at the boy to James' left. He nodded once. Not at James but at Crouch, who smiled wickedly and said, “Longbottom?”

James rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure if you brewed some polyjuice potion, you could manage to be him for a while.” Crouch continued to ponder the idea, and James could already feel a headache forming at the sound of the boy's voice. "However, you’d probably have to detain the real Frank if you wanted to pull it off, and honestly, your acting skills probably aren’t up to par. On second thought, no. I don’t think you can be frank.”

James rolled his eyes at the boy beside him, who was grinning wildly, before turning back toward Regulus, “Can I speak truthfully?”

Evan lifted his cup and considered, “Well, obviously you can speak, as you have proven multiple times throughout the years with your inability to remain silent, whether the truth will leave your lips is entirely your business.”

James went to throw his hands up in exasperation, but both elbows banged harshly against the edge of the table. The shining light in his pain was the sliver of a smile that cracked through Regulus’ facade of indifference, and it gave him strength to try again, “May I be honest with you, Regulus?”

The humor in the porcelain face before him vanished as quickly as it came, “Does what you have to say regard my brother?”

“Yes,” James said, boring a hole into Regulus’ eyes, praying to all the gods that he would understand this conversation would be best had alone without interruptions.

“Speaking of Sirius,” Barty began with mischief in his voice as he gazed at the younger Black, “You still owe me my five galleons, Black.”

Riddled with curiosity, James couldn’t help but ask, “Why does Regulus owe you five galleons? And what does it have to do with Sirius?”

Barty turned his head to give James his undivided attention when he answered, “We made a wager.”

Their faces were so close James could feel the phantom touch of Barty’s nose against his own.

“We made a wager that you and the disgraced heir to the House of Black were an item,” Barty revealed, and his pupils dilated, desperate to soak in the reaction James was sure to have.
However, the Gryffindor didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but rather taunt him with his own word games.

“Define item,” James demanded.

“That you’re together.” Barty elaborated weakly to James’ utter satisfaction, and the crimson-clad boy grinned as he turned toward Regulus.

“That’s a terrible bet to make. We live together. Obviously, we are together and often.”

A scowl broached Regulus’ face as he delivered more concisely than Crouch, “Romantically together, potter. A couple. You’re dating.”

“We’re dating?” James asked with faux innocence.

“You’re not dating?” Barty asked with a frown.

“We’re not dating.” James confirmed, “Keep your galleons, Regulus.”

Hope for Sirius bloomed in James’ chest as he saw relief in Regulus’ eyes.

Barty’s eyes narrowed, and James could feel their heat. “Lupin saw you kissing.”

“Yeah. We kissed—and stuff, but we’re not dating. We’re just friends," James corrected.

Barty shook his head in confusion and said, “Friends don’t just go around kissing each other.”

James leaned in a bit closer to Barty, aiming to make the boy feel just shy of comfortable, “Yes, they do. Sirius and I kiss. Remus and Regulus kiss.”

In a low voice, only meant for Crouch, James added, “Honestly, you should try it sometime.”

Roses bloomed across Crouch’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose as the boy looked just past James toward his friend, who seemed more interested in Regulus’ expressions than what was going on next to him. Crouch looked back at James, and the Gryffindor couldn’t help but send him a cheeky wink, which made the boy blush even further and mutter something under his breath before staring intently at the contents of his plate.

“You wanted to talk to me about Sirius?”

Regulus said with a sharpness that cut through James’ thoughts.

James snapped his eyes back to the cold steel grey eyes.

“Yes,” James said, swallowing thickly as his gaze traveled lower to the thin line the Slytherin’s lips had formed.

They trembled ever so slightly, and he wouldn't have noticed had James not been staring at them.

“Is it—is it serious?” Regulus asked.

“It is very serious. And I’d like to speak to you alone if I can—” James said and then immediately corrected himself as Evan went to make a snarky comment, “if I may.”

Regulus nodded once and rose from the table. James looked down at the plate before him to see a paper bag where his plate of pasties had been. He looked back up to see a smiling Pandora, and as he rose, he held out his hand for her. Once her delicate fingers caressed his palm, he turned them to kiss the back of her hand and winked as he said, “You’re a saint.”

“That’s me,” Pandora said, “Patron Saint of starving idiots.”

Evan scoffed, and just before James walked off to join Regulus, who had already left the Great Hall, he leaned down with a hand on Barty’s shoulder and his lips against the boy’s ear, “Just think about what I said, yeah?”

“Piss off, Potter,” Barty mumbled with no real malice. James grabbed the bag of food and ran off toward Regulus.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Regulus began pacing the corridor outside the Great Hall. Did Sirius tell James about their kiss? Was James going to tell him to stop seeing his brother? Was James going to point out what a black stain he was on their perfect golden lives? That his brother was better off without him? The spiral of self-deprecating thoughts was interrupted by the clash of a heavy body against his own. A hand wrapped around the back of his head as he and his assailant tumbled toward the ground, and Regulus’ back slammed against the hard stone.

“Fuck,” a familiar voice hissed at the pain that was likely burning in his hand as it was crushed between the cold stone floor and the back of Regulus’ skull.

Regulus took a sharp breath and exhaled the name of his assailant in what he had hoped sounded like disdain, but his voice sounded breathy even to his own ears.

For longer than appropriate, James Potter lay on top of Regulus, searching for signs of injury before admiring the blunt eyes that matched the floor beneath them.

“Reggie,”

“Regulus.” The younger boy corrected.

“No, I’m James. You’re Regulus.” James teased, and Regulus scoffed when the older boy asked, “How hard did you hit your head?”

With a light shove, Regulus signaled for James to get off of him. To his surprise, the boy complied with the silent gesture and then held out a hand for Regulus to take and right himself.
Unwilling to accept help, Regulus shoved the hand away, lifted himself off the floor, and leaned against the cold stone wall while he caught his breath.

“You wanted to talk to me about Sirius,” Regulus reminded the doe-eyed boy, who was lost in a haze of his own thoughts.

James cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head, further tangling the unruly locks, which had likely not been brushed through if that haphazard appearance of James’ shirt and tie were anything to go by.

“Right, yes. Sirius.” James began and then faltered, clearly picking his words with care.

“If you’re here to lecture me or tell me to stop seeing him—” Regulus was cut off by the furious shaking of James’ head and his wide eyes, which pleaded, you’ve got it all wrong.

“Nonononono—nothing—nothing like that. In fact,” James huffed out a laugh, “I was going to encourage you to keep seeing him.”

Regulus shifted his weight from one foot to another as he leaned further into the stone, praying for some convergence miracle that would allow him to become one with the wall.

No such luck.

“You want me to keep seeing him?” Regulus asked, his skepticism palpable. He watched as James’ uneasy smile faltered under his piercing gaze.

“In what capacity?” Regulus asked.

“In whatever capacity you feel comfortable with.” James answered honestly, “Sirius—he—Sirius cannot lose you again. It will break him—and he—he’s come so far, Regulus. These few months with you have been the happiest I’ve seen him in—well—since first year. And it would damage him beyond repair if you—he’ll take you however he can get you—in whatever way you feel most comfortable with. Be it brothers or—” James’ wrist rolled in the air as he searched for another label that would be appropriate.

“So, he told you. What we—he told you what we did?” Regulus asked, slightly hurt because, of course, he would tell James. He tells James everything, and Regulus should have known this would be no exception.

“Of course he did.” James answered and looked at the younger Black brother perplexedly before echoing Regulus’ thoughts, “he tells me everything.”

A cruel smile erupted on Regulus’ face as he whispered menacingly, “No, James. Not everything.”

Bafflement drenched James’ face, and Regulus took a moment to revel in the glory of the upper hand. However, it was a short-lived victory when Potter said, “You called me James.”

Regulus blinked, shook his head, and then blinked again before denying, “No. I most certainly didn’t.”

But all the declinations in the world would not wipe away the sheer look of triumph on James Potter’s perfect face, and to Regulus’ horror, the older boy began to walk closer toward him.

“You called me James,” The devil repeated despite Regulus’ narrowed eyes and shaking head.

“You’re delusional.”

“You. Called. Me. James.” two palms kissed the cold traitorous stone behind Regulus. The same stone that failed to swallow him up the way he wished, and Regulus felt a twinge of fear as James’ hungry eyes threatened to acquiesce to the wishes he had silently to the unrelenting stone.

“Admit it,” James whispered with a vanquishing grin as he leaned closer toward Regulus.

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Regulus denied and swallowed thickly as he pressed himself further into the stone in a mockery of an attempt to put more difference between himself and the agitating boy, “I have never in my life called you James.”

A soft groan passed James’ lips, and Regulus could feel the warm, inviting puff of air tickle against his bangs, which lay just under the corner of his eyes.

“Say it again,” James murmured as he pressed his forehead against the younger boys’ and trapped the younger black with his thigh, which had—at some point—worked its way in between Regulus’ thighs.

“I think you've mistaken me for the wrong brother, Potter.” Regulus tried as he pressed his palms against James’ chest in a feeble attempt to push the boy off of him. "We may look alike, but we are vastly different people.”

“No,” James denied and pressed his body impossibly close to Regulus’. “You have some distinct differences between you, like your eyes.”

Regulus held his breath as James continued, “Sirius’ eyes are bright and warm—”

“Where mine are dull and cold, yes, I know,” Regulus interjected with a roll of his eyes, but the hand that gripped his chin startled him, and he became lost in the incandescent blue windows, ready to bear the soul that lay trapped behind them.

“I was going to say your eyes are smooth and cool, like stones in a river, worn down by time and abrasion. Like your eyes have seen too much for someone so young. And bit by bit those coarse visions have rubbed and eroded and eaten away at the glossy finish and left behind is something opaque and smooth. But it’s also calming and cool.”

“And then your hair—“ James moved his hand from Regulus’ chin to card his hand through the thick curly locks, “Sirius’ is wavy and smooth; it takes almost no grooming or upkeep and always manages to fall in a devil may care way but still looks effortlessly amazing. But your hair? Full of life and love. You take pride in the way you maintain it and make every curl fall just the way you want it to.”

James swiped a thumb against Regulus’ cheek, caressing the collection of freckles and beauty marks, “and then there are these. Little constellations on your face guiding the way for anyone bold enough to bask in your beauty.”

Regulus couldn’t help but shutter out the boy’s name in warning as James continued to trace the cluster of stars. But as the “s” rolled off his tongue he felt James’ lips press against his.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

James was at war with his mind as it drifted back and forth between Sirius and Regulus. He couldn’t help but compare the two experiences as his mind drifted back to his and Sirius’ first kiss. Their first real kiss. The first time, he ventured further than just a quick peck on the lips or the cheek. He tasted like black coffee and grapes—bitter and sour flavors lingered on his tongue and cut the sweetness lingering in his mouth from this morning’s pumpkin juice. The smell of cinnamon and Lillie’s overwhelmed him as he breathed in through his nose, desperate to fill his lungs with Regulus as he lowered his hands toward the boy’s slender waist in an effort to keep his hands full of the younger black brother as well. He felt Regulus’ hands slide up his chest and link around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Suddenly James felt the sharp poke of a wand against his jugular, and a familiar heated voice growled, “James Fleamont Potter get your hands off my fucking brother.”

Chapter Text

Sirius sat at the Gryffindor table, looking over Remus' shoulder every minute or two. His brother seemed unbothered as Regulus wielded a knife to spread the creamy butter along the face of his toast and listened carefully to Pandora, who was seated beside him. 

The Gryffindor waited for Regulus to catch his eye, but his brother seemed too enraptured by his friend’s conversation to spare Sirius a glance, so he focused on the tawny-haired boy before him. 

James’ proposition weighed heavily on his heart as he took in Remus’ soft brown eyes. It didn’t escape his notice that James’ bed was empty this morning while the boy’s steady snores could be heard from behind Remus’ curtains.

But something about accepting James’ offer felt wrong. Not because he wasn’t intrigued–his cock certainly was–but because he was apprehensive that this would be a fork in the road of their friendship. 

It would either strengthen it or tear it apart. 

And while Sirius loved to take chances, his friendship with Prongs was not something he was willing to give up.

The devil appeared in the doorway of the great hall, and Sirius’ silver eyes trailed after him and widened when the boy walked in the opposite direction toward the Slytherin table. With his back toward Sirius, the anxious boy couldn’t see his friend's face, but he could see his brothers. Sirius knew Regulus’ tells–every twitch, every feigned frown, every roll of his eyes meant something different and as Sirius watched his brother, he came to one conclusion: Regulus was interested in James.

For what purpose, Sirius could only guess, but something about his friend caught his brother’s eye, and he was determined to find out what.

A series of snaps from long, dexterous fingers erupted before him, and Sirius focused on the boy, attempting to divert his attention. Remus turned his body to see Regulus getting up from the table and James following suit, then he turned back to Sirius, who was already set to pursue them.

“Padfoot, no,” Remus said fiercely, and for a moment, Sirius stopped. Like a well-trained dog, his feet became firmly planted on the floor, and his eyes shot to his master. He could see the edges of Remus’ eyes shine a bright gold against the warm brown, making like two sunflowers itching to face the sun but desperate to be heard and obeyed.

Sirius shook his head, clearing it from the spell Moony had cast over him. Bounding for the door with a hurried conviction to stop–what, he didn’t know, but whatever it was, he knew he wouldn’t like it when he saw it. 

He just barely reached the outside of the Great Hall when a pair of solid arms pushed him against the unforgiving stone of the hallway. Silver eyes brightly blazed against the amber eclipses staring down at him, “What the fuck, Padfoot.”

“They’re up to something, and I want to know what it is,” Sirius whined.

“Don’t you think, given everything, that maybe you should just sit this one out?” Sirius couldn’t tell if he was talking about the prank or not, either letting the knowledge of Sirius’ and Regulus’ game slip past his lips or if he was simply talking about the unnatural incidents of him kissing his brother and his best friend–both of which were honestly Regulus’ fault. 

Sirius would have never kissed James the way he had if it weren’t for Regulus’ slutty antics, and he never would have kissed Regulus if it weren’t for well—Regulus.

Sirius hazarded a glance over toward the end of the hall and found Regulus in a situation that was very similar to his own. Pinned against the stone with James crowding his space.

At first, he marveled at how right they looked together. As he watched them get closer together, he could see a life before his eyes. 

One of romance that needn’t be hidden from the world for its taboo nature. 

One of laughter and joy unmarred by shared trauma and pain. 

The sight of it—of them—left a caramelized, ashy taste in his mouth, and he swallowed the thought that it should be him before he had a chance to think deeper about whom he should be replacing.

Violent sunset hues danced before his eyes as he pushed back against Remus and stormed toward his brothers.

His hand seemed to work faster than his brain, which was muddled and covered in crimson, as he pulled his wand from the holster beneath his robes and slotted the tip against the soft spot just beneath James’ jutting chin.

A canine, possessive voice came barreling from the heavily beating organ in his chest as he growled, “James Fleamont Potter get your hands off my fucking brother.”

The kiss paused, but their lips didn’t part, and Sirius dug the dark brown Acadia wood into the golden skin that blushed deeply.

Sirius could see the bruise forming along the indention and vowed silently to force the sun to kiss the horizon and bury it so far deep beyond the horizon that it would never rise again if it didn’t get its damnable lips off his brother’s.

Mercifully, James felt the threat and removed his lips, leaving his brother whining and chasing after that warmth.

He had never been angry at James before, and the feeling unsettled him, so Sirius pushed James out of the way, discarding him, and set his sights and anger on his brother.

This anger was comfortable, normal even. Two brothers fighting over a toy—a plaything—and Regulus had the audacity to mock him for it, presenting Sirius with a wry grin as he lifted his fingers and touched the rosebud lips, teased and bitten by his best friend.

Molten silver eyes followed the movement, and he leaned in close, watching those lips, mesmerized by all they had to offer, all they had offered—to him, to Remus, to James.

Sirius crowded him and cloaked the pair of them with the wings of his black robes that hid just how close they were to each other. Close enough to feel the desperation in Regulus’ cock pressing against his own steel-rodded jealous snake.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Regulus?” Sirius bit off the name like it was a rebounding curse piercing his own heart—infecting it like a plague that spread to every extremity.

“Well, I was kissing James. And I would very much like to get back to that, so if you’ll excuse me—” Sirius cut him off with a hateful hand that wrapped around Regulus’ slim throat—stifling the blood, the air, but ineffectually quelling the desire that had clearly seeped into his brother's blood.

Regulus had tasted golden poison, and Sirius wanted to squeeze it out of him–suck it out of him– until Regulus could no longer recall the crave-worthy taste.

“No.” Sirius demanded, “James is off limits to you.”

Regulus’ face had turned a tempting shade of candy apple red, and Sirius could feel his mouth water at the desire to take a bite of him.

But suddenly, Sirius was no longer firmly planted on the ground, nor was his brother’s throat in his clutches as Remus hoisted him up with one arm, holding him back from the vengeance he planned to enact in the form of bruising kisses.

“Sirius.” Remus barked admonishingly, redirecting his attention briefly.

Sirius looked at James, who stood stock still, shocked and alarmed, breathing heavily and staring at his star, itching to reach out and comfort him.

Regulus took his throat in his own hand, massaging the ache and the carmine impressions Sirius had left behind, but his brother didn’t look broken. He didn’t even look upset as a devilish smile broached, spreading across his face, smearing it in sin.

“Off limits to me.” Regulus’ voice was raspy and haughty as he scrunched his nose up and leaned toward Sirius just past the strong arm that held the elder Black back, “noted.”

Sirius lunged forward like a rabid dog, but Remus held him back from sinking his teeth into the treacherous brother. Regulus laughed and gave an uneasy James an agonizingly slow once-over before licking his lips and sauntering down the hall.

Ferality hit Sirius like a fever, swelling inside his organs, and he had no relief—no outlet now that Regulus had walked away, so he turned to the nearest object of his fury and bit harshly.

“No.” He said with firm conviction and gangly green bled from his tongue as he choked on the venomous word, feeling his own heart shatter like heated glass.

“I—yeah,” James mumbled as he looked over his shoulder, watching Regulus round the corner, “I won’t kiss him again. I promise.”

“No. You won’t.” Sirius gritted out, tasting the sand that filled his mouth as he continued, “But that’s not all I was saying no to.”

James tilted his head in confusion, searching Sirius’ eyes as if they held the answer. Sirius could practically see the light bulb above James’ head as his eyes widened in realization, then it brightened and busted raining down crystal confetti and settling in his dark brown hair.

James swiveled his head, shaking off the invisible glass shards, as he whispered a small and broken, “No?”

“No.” Sirius choked on the words as they left his lips, “I slept on it.”

“You slept on it?” James repeated quietly.

“And then I woke up.” Sirius continued despite every bit of his body begging him not to, “and while it was a fantastic dream—”

Sirius looked down the hall after a phantom, “The reality isn’t— feasible.”

“Not feasible,” James repeated like a broken record cursed to repeat the words actively shattering it.

“No,” Sirius said, less sure than before as he watched his friend put on a smile he’d only ever seen reserved for others. A counterfeit grin. Far too wide to be real, with far too many teeth showing and far too many lines around it as if he had carved them there with the dull blade of rejection.

“James,” Sirius called out, beckoning the boy he knew to resurface, but he was gone, and in his place, a jester's mask had replaced any sincerity.

“It’s alright, Pads. Truly. You have enough to deal with—no point in tacking another item on your to-do list.” James said with humorous self-deprecation.

“James,” Sirius whined but cut himself off at the feel of a firm grip around his arm and he looked up to see fiery amber smoldering.

James had walked off in the opposite direction Regulus had, not bothering to look over his tightened shoulders toward his friends.

“You never listen, do you, Sirius.”

“You—you saw them, Remus. They were—”

“Kissing. Yeah, Sirius. I saw them.” Remus bit out and towered over Sirius as he asked angrily, “Tell me why you had this reaction. You didn’t seem to mind when it was me kissing Regulus. If anything—you seemed spurred on by it.”

“I—” Sirius failed to explain.

“Perhaps you could use some time alone to think about it. And you should, Sirius. You should really think about it. If not for your own sake, for James’. Because that?” Remus hoisted his satchel over his shoulder as he pointed to the empty space his heart and soul had occupied, “That was not okay.”

Remus gave Sirius a lingering disapproving look before he turned on his heel and left Sirius alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Why did you do that?” Sirius asked quietly, breaking the silence as he plucked another clover blossom from the patch the two brothers were lounging.

Regulus didn’t bother to open his eyes as he let the sun kiss his pale skin, drawing out the freckled constellations that lined the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks.

“Why did you get so angry?” Regulus breathed out.

“You could have him.”

“So could you.” Regulus pointed out. “Try again.”

“He could have you.” Sirius let the whisper float in the gentle breeze that ran through midnight waves, and the sound of his words as they passed his ears felt frail.

Regulus opened his eyes and lifted himself to lean on his forearms, boring his eyes into Sirius and crooned a tempting melodic song of verboten temptation in the way only sirens could: “So could you .”

Sirius gaped like a fish out of water gasping for air but was found wanting and choked on the sound of societal expectations.

Regulus rolled his eyes when Sirius said nothing and fell back into the bed of clovers before he repeated, “Try again.”

Sirius looped the stem of a clover with nimble fingers, tying it in a knot. Then, threading another stem through the eye, he tugged on it with the same gentility his heartstrings had been tugged by three simple words.

“You could have each other—properly. In a way, I could never have either of you.”

“Does she sound as shrill in your head as she sounds in mine?” Regulus asked bitterly.

“Who?” Sirius asked, idly searching for little bits of luck amongst the greenery.

“Mother.”

Sirius froze and listened to the voice that told him no. Admittedly, the pitch was so high and loud that Sirius could scarcely make out the sound of it—he only felt the vibrations of it rattling in his bones. But when he stilled himself, he could actually hear the piercing voice of his mother fracturing him.

The bell tolled in the distance from the tower, and both boys rose from the natural bed they were resting on. 

Regulus waved his wand over himself, transforming into a mirror image of Sirius.

His hair was less kempt, and his unhappy frown reflected the helplessness in his soul.

“Yes, is the answer to your question.” Regulus mocked Sirius' voice as he tugged off the green tie wrapped around his neck, “You really do look like shit.”

Sirius snatched the emerald fabric from Regulus’ outstretched hand and hastily draped it over his head, letting it lay haphazardly against the scarlet.

Regulus tutted and stepped closer toward Sirius, carefully unfurling the Gryffindor’s tie, siphoning his bravery with every exchange.

Scarlet wrapped around the neck of his image, and Sirius watched his hands delicately move, overlapping the ends, tugging at them, knotting it to perfection before wrecking it, creating a devil-may-care appearance that Sirius effortlessly emanated.

Satisfied with the appearance, Regulus looked up and smiled while Sirius stood watching himself.

His brother popped Sirius’ collar and loosened the emerald tie, unraveling it—unraveling him— before putting it back together better than new. 

Regulus smoothed down the collar and let his hand drift toward his heart, “Much more fitting today, I would say.”

“What is?” Sirius asked with a dry voice.

“The green.” Regulus smirked, “all jealousy and self-preservation.”

Sirius scoffed and watched teasing eyes transform into sincere mourning, “though, I prefer you in red.”

Sirius placed his hand over the hand pressed against his heart and admitted shyly, “I’m not feeling very red today.”

Sirius watched himself as his double leaned in close enough to whisper against his lips, “I’ll be red enough for the both of us, yeah?”

Sirius nodded and felt the honeysuckle-flavored magic wash over him as his long waves spiraled and curled, retracting in length.

He watched as his brother waved his wand and gently lifted the clover crown over the precious curls, nestling them in like they belonged there naturally.

“Come on, Sirius, you can’t be grumpy when you’re wearing a flower crown. It's against the laws of nature.” Regulus teased and pulled a small smile from pillowy pink lips, “Besides, if Barty sees you frowning, he will pester you until you admit what’s wrong, and I trust you not to murder my best friend.”

All semblance of a smile faded at the mention of Crouch.

“I can’t deal with Crouch today.”

“Find a way.” Regulus deadpanned.

The dramatic way Sirius rolled his eyes brought light and life to his face, and he found himself mirroring the infectious gesture.

“I think James got under his skin,” Regulus admitted.

“Oh, one good snog, and he’s James now.” Sirius teased.

“Technically, it’s been three good snogs, thank you very much.” Regulus bristled.

“What did James say that got Barty in a tizzy?” Sirius asked as the pair headed toward the castle.

“He put the idiotic idea in Barty’s head that friends could kiss.” Regulus frowned.

“Friends can kiss.” Sirius parroted.

“Friends can kiss. Friends can kiss, and it mean nothing. They just laugh and go about their day, not worried in the slightest. Barty and Evan are not friends. They're so much more than that. And I fear that if they kiss before they acknowledge that, it will only cause more heartache for them.”

Regulus gave Sirius a pointed look, which Sirius promptly ignored and finished, “Which means more annoyance for me. Great.”

The pair reached their destination, and the sound of the other students began pounding through the hall.

“I’ll talk to him,” Sirius said, running the back of his neck, “try to beat some sense into him.”

“That is literally the worst thing you could do.” Regulus laughed, “If you tell him not to, he’ll do it anyway just to prove he can. You've got to be cunning about it.”

Regulus tugged at the green tie hanging limply from Sirius’ neck, “Make him think it’s his idea. You fix my friend, and I’ll fix yours?”

“Don’t know how you’re gonna manage that one.” Sirius admitted, “I was pretty harsh on James.”

An evil smirk adorned his own face as Sirius stared at his dopplegänger, “I’m gonna offer him something he can’t refuse.”

Sirius mindlessly drifted toward himself as he whispered curiously, “What are you gonna give him?”

“You.”

Sirius’ cheeks burned at Regulus’ words and deepened as his brother hummed.

“What?” Sirius asked with an unsure smile.

“Oh, nothing, I was just thinking I really do look good in red,” Regulus smirked.

Sirius lifted his hands to his cheeks in an attempt to wipe away the evidence of the rose-tinted porcelain, and as his lips spread, revealing his own white teeth, Sirius cursed at his brother, “Piss off Reg.”

Chapter Text

James trudged up the stairs. Practice had been abysmal, to say the least. The heavens had opened up and left everything beneath them sodden and cold, and while James could have easily used charms to dry and warm himself, he chose not to. 

James opted to let the cold, wet curse of the October monsoon seep into his bones as an act of penance as he atoned for the sins he had committed. His lust for love, belonging, and unity was far too great, and he was foolish enough to think he could have everything.

James shivered as he dripped along the carpet of the Gryffindor common room, where he spotted Peter. The mousey boy smiled brightly when he saw James, then frowned at the state of him. His friend beckoned him over and did what James refused to do for himself.

His body felt lighter and warmer, but it was superficial. The damage of the morning adventure’s fallout lingered, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret having tasted Regulus’ wine-flavored lips.

“How are you doing, Petey?” James asked as he set his broom against the arm of the red-velvet sofa before flopping dramatically against the cushions–willing them to swallow him whole.

“A sight better than you, I’d say.” Peter admitted, “Want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly,” James admitted as he fiddled with a golden thread loosely hung from the protruding button.

“How about some tea?” Peter offered.

James nodded and sat up, downing the cup in one go, letting it burn his tongue and throat.

It did nothing to rid him of the feel of Regulus’ kiss—nor did it erase the lingering taste of Sirius.

Peter sat on the floor on the other side of the table and leaned over to silently ask for the cup.

James handed it over lazily and leaned back against the couch.

“Tell me, Pete,” James said with mockery, “what does my future hold?”

Peter was too engrossed in the cup and flipping through pages to note the derision, “Well, there’s a dog—which means faithful friends.”

James’ chuckle was wrong even to his own ears. His friends were faithful, and it was his own fault for the downward spiral he found himself in. That’s all he seemed to be doing lately—falling. And the further he fell, the further away he grew from the heavenly bodies he was falling for.

“Next to the dog is a—“ Peter squinted and tilted the cup to make out the object. His fingers flipped the page back and forth, trying to decipher the image in the porcelain, and finally declared, “A deer. Which represents disputes.”

James groaned as he pulled the worn scarlet pillow to hide his own blushing shame.

“Above the deer is a wolf—which advises to,” Peter trailed off, and James peeked through the pillow to see large green eyes staring back at him.

“ What? ” James gritted out, and Peter squeaked and averted his gaze, staring at the parchment, which was sure not to nip at him out of frustration.

“The wolf advises to guard against jealous friends.”

“Yes, well, that probably would have been more helpful information to have had this morning.”

He watched as Peter sank somberly and bit his lip, and James cursed himself as his friend seemed to shrink inward to avoid James’ wrath.

He was only trying to help.

“Go on, Pete, what does it all mean?” James said in a softer, albeit defeated, tone.

“Are you sure?” Peter mumbled.

“Yeah, ‘m sure.”

“Well, there are two more objects—a cat. Which advises to bewareoftroublecausedbytreachery.” Peter rushed out.

James sat up and gaped at Peter, “Treachery? Like betrayal?”

Peter tilted his head in thought and shook his head, “Words are like art—many have multiple meanings, and it’s up to you to decide which definition to interpret based on the context of the situation or, in this case, your life.”

James hummed as he fell against the sofa and cradled the pillow against his chest, “What do you think it means, Pete?”

“It could mean betrayal—but given the dog…I would say it is more likely that it means deceitful behavior.”

“How is that better?” James groaned.

“Deception is also an art,” Peter smirked.

James deadpanned and threw his pillow at the cackling boy, “Everything is an art to you.”

“True—but what is life without meaning? The "meaning" is something you have to interpret for yourself like your own personal puzzle or riddle to understand and work out.”

James smiled tiredly—too tiredly to work out the riddle for himself, “how is deception an art?”

“Well—it’s all about intent, yeah? For instance—some of our pranks are quite deceptive, but we don’t mean any harm by them. They’re just a bit of fun. Now— sometimes, some of us,” Peter gave James a pointed look, “go a little overboard, and some people wind up in the crosshairs of our trickery, but we never intentionally harm anyone. Then, there are others who would deceive intentionally and purposefully cause harm. Then, of course, you have those who hoodwink with no intent and do not care if they hurt or cause no harm. They simply do it because they can, and well, you get the picture. But in my mind , the word treachery implies some sort of relationship—some kind of closeness with the person or persons, so combined with the dog—I would argue that those who are deceiving you have no malintent toward you; however , that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be wary of the trouble caused by the likely playful deception.”

Peter pointed toward the black cat as if to prove his point.

“So, all-around bad news? Great.” James lamented.

“Actually—the final symbol above all of them is celestial bodies—which symbolizes good luck and great happiness.” Peter countered.

“So what is your final diagnosis, Dr. Pettigrew?”

“Your friends are playing a game that you have been roped into unknowingly, and some of them are not playing fairly; emotions and tensions are high, and you must tread lightly, but overall, happiness is just around the corner, James—just beyond the horizon. And it would benefit you to fix your eyes to the skies and wait for the sun to rise.”

James sighed as he looked out the common room window to see the moon's soft, pale light bleed through the glass and contrast with the brightly colored room.

He closed his eyes and wished against it, prayed to it, and he could practically feel its touch against his unruly hair made all the more untamable by the fall rain and the warming charm cast by Peter earlier.

It spoke to him in a deep timber, “Sirius wants to talk to you, Prongs.”

James opened his eyes to see Remus looking down at him with a soft, pitting stare.

James sat up, away from his moon, and curled in on himself, “I’m not really up for talking. I just want to go to sleep.”

Remus settled down next to him and continued to card his hand through James’ hair, pulling him in to rest his head on the werewolf’s shoulder.

“I think it might be best for you to talk. Don't let the sun go down on your anger and all that,” Remus said as he rolled his wrist lazily in the air.

“He was so angry, Moony.” James said quietly, “I’ve seen him angry like that before, but it was never—he’s never been angry with me— not like that. ”

“Sirius is—going through some things. He had no right to take it out on you—but, well, he’s not known for addressing his feelings.”

James chuckled and sighed as Remus kissed the top of his head and mumbled into his hair, “I think you’ll find that he’s a completely different person than he was this morning, and you should kiss and make up.”

The waves of oceanic eyes threatened to crest and crash against the barrier of fine lashes as James whispered defeatedly, “he doesn’t want to kiss me.”

A light tug of dark brown locks forced James to look up at Remus, and those waves rose higher and higher in an attempt to soar toward the moon in their wake before a fluttering of lashes finally had them toppling over themselves, rolling down the shores of dark sandy cheeks.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of him not wanting to kiss you, James. But until he realizes that, if you like—I’ll kiss you enough for the both of us.”

James leaned in slowly before backing away—cursed with the memory of an angry Sirius, “I—I can’t. He’ll—“

“Sirius doesn’t own me. He doesn’t own you. He doesn’t own Regulus. ” Remus traced his nose along the edge of James' cheek with his hand still firmly gripping James’ hair, neither pulling nor pushing, “What do you want, James?”

“I—” James tilted his head and felt his lips ghost against Remus’ as he quietly confessed, “I don’t want you to kiss me—not if it doesn’t mean anything to you. I don’t think I can take another rejection today, Remus.”

“And what if it did mean something?”

“It can’t—you—you like Sirius. You’re meant to be with Sirius, and I can’t—“

Remus interrupted the spiral by curling his hand into the soft, fizzy locks, tightening his grip, “I do like Sirius. I also happened to have come to the realization that I like Regulus as well. But do you want to know a secret, James?”

Remus purred as his index finger skimmed against the stubble of James’ jaw and nestled beneath his chin. Amber eyes were drawn to James’ thin, pale lips and the pink tongue that darted out to lick them as James nodded sharply.

“You were my first crush.” James’ eyes widened brightly, and Remus smirked at the reaction.

“I—what—I—no—”

“You were. Eleven-year-old James oozed confidence and charisma, blinding everyone in his path with his beauty and excitement. At first, I was convinced that I just wanted to be you. That I was tired of being this creature of the night—pale and frail, constantly waxing and waning, a never-ending cycle. I wanted to shine as brightly as you, be as confident as you, be as beautiful as you. But then I got to know you—see the dark spots, see the way you expand and contract. And I realized you weren’t much different than me—and then idolization transformed into something deeper and richer. I was always quite jealous of Sirius—being able to climb in your bed and hold you at will. I never had the confidence to do that. Then I started wishing I was Sirius—watching his every move in some childish attempt to gain a secret knowledge to be that close to you. I’ve always been envious of what you two share. Which is the main reason I didn’t give you an answer last night. Not because I was jealous of you kissing Sirius , but because I was envious that he had tasted your lips when I had not. ”

James blinked owlishly at Remus, taking in his words, searching through whiskey eyes for lies and finding nothing but moon-drunk admission.

“So, in truth, James, it wouldn’t just mean something; it would mean everything. ” James watched as the courage slipped in the wake of his own silence and mourned the loss of the fingers as Remus relinquished his grip and continued, “But I understand if that’s not something you’re interested in explo—“

James leaned and stole the words from Remus’ tongue as he slotted his lips against the werewolf’s. It was a timid, unsure, fumbling kiss—almost like a childish first-ever kiss. It felt new—fresh—like when the rain would pour and clear away all the grime and haze of the world, leaving it green and bright, and James felt a wave of clarity in the wake of it and chased after the feeling with bolder lips and an adventurous tongue. He climbed on top of Remus, digging his knees into the fold of the sofa and rocking against him, fueling the flame of desire as their clothed cocks grazed against one another.

“Is that how you kiss your friends? ” A sly foxy voice echoed between them, breaking them apart with heavy breaths lingering in the space of the shattered moment.

“Rosier,” Remus gritted out in greeting, clearly annoyed by the intrusion.

“Lupin.” Rosier grinned widely, “You’re late for our very important date.”

“Date?” James huffed confusedly.

“Date.” Evan confirmed, “an arrangement to meet someone at a previously agreed upon time.”

James sighed in relief because, honestly— he could not take another person being added to the ever growing confusion of his romantic life.

“Remus agreed to meet me at eight o’clock.” The Slytherin pulled out a gold pocket watch from his trousers. “I have 8:17 p.m.” Rosier announced before he set his cerulean eyes on James and pointedly said, " It’s quite rude to keep someone waiting. ”

Dark brows pinched in confusion, and his mouth parted open as he looked to Remus, who nodded toward their chambers.

Realization dawned on James as he muttered, “Oh shit! Sirius.”

“Indeed,” Rosier drawled.

James scrambled off Remus, grabbed the broom he had propped against the couch and began running for the stairs. He stopped mid-stride and turned on his heel to run back toward Remus and kiss him lightly on the lips as he whispered, “Thank you, Moony.”

He graced a blushing cheek with a quick peck and smiled brightly before darting back toward their bedroom and while he ran, Remus lifted his hand toward the phantom kiss that burned against his cheek.

James stood outside his room, the high from his moment with moony waning in the face of confrontation. He lifted his curled fist to knock and thought of the ridiculousness of knocking on his own door . Still, he gave three sharp raps and waited for permission to enter.

When none came, he felt like a fool, but still, he opened the door expecting a sour-faced Sirius and found nothingness instead. No soft light of a star, nor warm candlelight-only the moon illuminating the room.

A series of scenarios flashed before his eyes, and he felt the static pop against his veins. What if Sirius had grown tired of waiting? What if he walked down to the common room and saw Remus and him kissing? What if he ran off in a fury?

He would receive no answers tonight, though the questions were sure to plague his dreams. Defeated, James set his broom next to his drawn-curtained four-post bed and shucked off his clothes down to his underwear.

Too tired to shower, he cast a quick cleansing charm and set his wand on the table next to his bed.

Tired hands parted the thick scarlet curtain, and he nestled into his bed, pulling the duvet past his thighs. The cool night air ghosted along his body as he tried to quell the loud swarm of thoughts that buzzed around angrily begging for attention. But rather than chase the thoughts, he sought after a feeling.

Warm hands hugging his hips, satin lips that melded with his own, a rough tongue licking the soft edges of his mouth—scraping along his teeth, the hard undefinable proof of arousal as it rubbed against his own.

James let his left hand drift over his right nipple, pinching it lightly while his right hand slowly worked its way through the brush around his half-hard cock. Fingers lightly grazing against the electric blue veins that surfaced against the thin, pinkening skin.

He teased himself with barely there touches and allowed himself to moan loudly in the empty room.

“Jamie?” A rose petal voice that sounded a lot like Regulus sighed out next to him, and he retracted his hand away from his cock and his body from the bed as he tangled himself in the curtains and fell to the floor.

The curtains closed at will, leaving only a sliver of darkness to peek through.

James maneuvered himself to sit on his haunches and tried to capture a glimpse of the ghost, but all he saw was darkness. He reached over toward his wand, lit the candles in the room, and found Sirius Black’s head comically protruding from the red curtains.

A sly grin formed on Sirius’ face as he looked down to see James’ arousal and he cheekily asked, “Were you thinking about my brother?”

James raised his hands in innocent alarm and denied with a shout, “No! No—I was—no.”

The smirk seemed to falter for a moment, but it was surely a trick of the light.

Sirius rolled his eyes and opened the curtains, “Come along, Prongs.”

A soft, pale hand reached out to James and he couldn’t help but wonder if a bite would come along with it should he accept.

But bravery in the face of his fears won out, and he accepted the outstretched hand and hoisted himself up and into the bed.

The pair lay stock still next to each other, unsure where to begin—waiting for the other to break the silence.

After a moment, both boys found their courage at the same time and whispered simultaneous apologies.

“No, James—let me, just let me say this,” Sirius whispered, “I was unforgivably cruel to you. The truth is—I’m a bit at war with myself. And unfortunately, you bore the brunt of my battle. It was never my intention to hurt you. You see, it’s not in my nature to— share. And seeing you with my brother, who—well, you know how I feel about him—it evoked that age-old possessive reaction, and I’m not excusing my behavior; I’m just trying to explain it—explain my thoughts, my— feelings. ”

James stayed silent despite the energy rushing through his veins, trying to find a way out.

“I want it all. And I am trying to reconcile that in order to have it all, I have to be willing to sacrifice bits—bits of time, of love, of flesh so that I can have everything. And I’m not very good at letting go.”

James frowned and shook his head, “You don’t—you don’t have to sacrifice anything. Love isn’t—it’s not a piece of bread you have to give out and dwindle down to nothing. Love is like trees.”

Sirius furrowed his brows and looked at him incredulously in a way that reminded him so much of his brother, “Like trees ?”

“Yes—like—we breathe out, creating carbon monoxide, and we feed the trees, and in turn, they feed us oxygen. It's reciprocal and never-ending.”

“What happens if a tree doesn’t breathe for you?” Sirius asked quietly.

“Then it breathes for someone else, and that’s okay—and though it might hurt, it won’t last. You’ll find a tree that does breathe for you. And if you’re lucky— you’ll find a forest that breathes for you. And I’ve never met a luckier bastard than you.”

James smirked and watched as Sirius smiled sheepishly before pushing against him playfully.

“When did you get to be so wise, James Potter?” Sirius sighed dreamily against James’ lips, and the chaser could practically taste the unspoken wishes in his breath.

“You keep saying that—when are you going to realize I’ve always been wise—you’ve just never noticed until recently. Says more about you than it does about me, tosser.” James said affectionately, and while he longed to bridge the gap between their lips, he held himself back.

“When did you become so sesquipedalian?”

Sirius balked and frowned, “what do you mean?”

“Just—the way you apologized—you’ve been spending a lot of time with Regulus, I can tell. He’s rubbing off on you.” James said with waggling brows.

“Fuck off, I’m smart,” Sirius said with a mocking grin as he mimicked James’ deep timber, “I’ve always been smart—you’ve just never noticed until now. Says more about you than it did about me.”

“Oh, Sirius, you’re incredibly clever, of that I have no doubt. But you never used to speak like some Victorian prince wasting away in a castle before,” James raised his pitch and manipulated his tongue to let out a posh lit, “‘It evoked an age-old possessive reaction’”

Sirius blushed and smacked him upside the head with a pillow, “Dick.”

“Bitch.”

“Cunt.”

“Princess.” Sirius’ eyes widened in a way they never had before at the moniker, and James’ smile grew wide in realization, “Oh?”

“No.” Sirius denied with a firm voice.

“Oh, but you like that, don’t you, Princess.” James teased.

“James.” Gryffindor could tell that Sirius meant for the name to elicit fear—meant for him to buckle beneath the weight of the tone, but instead, it came out as a feminine whine that sounded wrong—like that sound should have been emitted from behind plump pink lips.

James cleared his throat and let his head hit the pillow beneath him dramatically, groaning, “You’re making it really hard for me to not kiss you, Pads.”

Sirius leaned over and traced James’ lips with his fingers as he whispered, “I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“You’ve never called me that before,” James sighed as he closed his eyes. “I like it. Sounds soft—sweet.”

Like a tree cut down in the forest, he laid still, gasping for a breath of love as Sirius pressed his lips against James and forced it down his throat, reviving him.

The pair shared breaths between them, feeding off each other. The kiss tasted like bittersweet apologies, and James lapped at the flavor with a fervor.

The door opened abruptly and startled the pair despite their being well hidden behind a thick scarlet curtain.

Quiet chuckles bounced off the fabric and tickled their ears. When they finally calmed down from their childish fit, James plucked up the courage to ask, “Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”

James’ heart stopped as he watched Sirius smile sadly. Sure, rejection was on the tip of his tongue, but as Sirius traced the concerned bushy brows of James’ face, he melted at the touch.

Sirius pressed a brief, chaste kiss on James’ lips and whispered, “Ask me again tomorrow, Jamie.”

Chapter Text

“I’ve had a thought,” Crouch announced, trampling through Sirius’ thoughts.

“Best to un-have it, Bartemius.” Sirius sighed as he flipped the page he wasn’t reading with a crooked index finger. “No good can come from you thinking.”

“Can’t be done, I’m afraid,” Crouch lamented, “Once it’s formed, a thought is like a disease. It sticks with you.”

“You’re like a disease,” Sirius muttered.

“I’m your disease,” Crouch batted his lashes, “and no amount of tonics or drugs will ever rid you of me.”

Crouch sauntered across the room in a deceptively casual manner before snatching the undigested book from Sirius’ lazy grasp.

“Now—my thought,” Crouch began with a pensive stare as he examined the binding of the well-worn novel and lifted a questioning brow as he accused, “This isn’t yours.”

Shit.

“How can you tell?” Sirius feigned innocence, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently outed himself somehow.

“The notes in the margin. First of all—it’s not your handwriting. Second of all—you would never deface a precious book with the ink of your quill. That’s why you have so many fucking journals to write down your thoughts.”

“Gold Star.” Sirius deadpanned before snatching the book back.

“So, whose is it?” Crouch grinned, and Sirius had to clench his fist to keep from smacking the mocking smirk off his face. In truth, he had no clue whose book it was. The swirling, airy lettering was foreign to his eyes. Unable to give Crouch a believable answer, Sirius reluctantly settled on misdirection.

“Your thought?”

Crouch’s smirk disappeared, and he cleared his throat. He straightened his vest and spoke clearly and decisively, “I’m going to kiss you.”

“You—what? No.” Sirius scrambled up in the chair so that he was seated on the back frame, eager to get as far away from Crouch as possible.

“Oh, come on, Reg, it’s not like we haven’t done it before,” Crouch smirked suggestively as he swayed closer to Sirius, stopping when his shins hit the front of the chair.

“Exactly. We’ve already done it,” Sirius nodded as he closed his legs when Crouch set a knee on the cushion of the chair and a hand on Sirius’ thigh, “No need to repeat history.”

“Oh, come on, Black,” Crouch grinned as he pried apart the touching knees and nestled into the space between them, rubbing his hands up and down Sirius’ thighs, bunching up the fabric with every pass. “If I remember correctly, it was actually pretty amazing.”

“You don’t remember correctly,” Sirius did his best to manage an unaffected posh sneer, “it was a grueling experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.”

Sirius leaned back as Crouch leaned forward, “Well, then, perhaps I should be awarded the chance to redeem myself.”

Sirius lunged his hand out and gripped the throat that was far too close to him for his liking, “Barty, why do you want to kiss me?”

Crouch shrugged as if it were nothing, “Cause we’re friends.”

“That’s—that’s a horrible reason,” Sirius admitted as he thought about his own best friend and how his heart ached from how he had broken James earlier. He only hoped Regulus was working some kind of miracle magic to rectify his transgressions.

“Potter didn’t seem to think so. He encouraged me to do it. And I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

“You’ve been thinking about kissing me all day?”

“I’ve been thinking about kissing a friend all day. And would you look at that?” Barry tucked a curl behind Sirius’ ear. “Here you are. And here I am. So, let me kiss you.”

Crouch leaned into the hand, holding him back, choking himself to get a taste of Regulus.

Sirius’ blood bubbled at the thought, and he spat, “We’re not friends, Crouch.”

Crouch blinked, and his eyes softened, “Wow, you wound me, Black. Truly.”

Sirius cursed himself as he felt the demon wilt in his hand and corrected himself for Regulus’ sake: “I—I just mean, we’re not that kind of friends.”

A devilish smile spread across thin lips as Crouch purred, “We could be.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree.” Sirius sighed. In a desperation to get the fiend out of his lap, he disregarded Regulus’ warning and said, “If you’re so desperate for a friendly snog, why don’t you go find Evan?”

Crouch frowned, “He’s busy. On some date with Lupin.”

“What?!” Sirius screeched and cringed at the pitch of his own voice, “I mean—”

“Jealous, Black?”

And yes. It was practically an extension of his name, Sirius Jealous Black. But he didn’t have time to ruminate over the vast greenery of his feelings as Crouch thumbed over his clothed hip.

“Come on, Black, just a little kiss. I’ll make it quick and painless for you. Just a little taste.”

“Crouch, if you kiss me, I will bite you,” Sirius said, dropping his voice an octave and sounding entirely too much like himself.

Sandy blonde brows pinched together, and curved lines enclosed a villainous smile as he leaned in impossibly close and whispered, “If you bite me, Black, I promise I’ll bite back.”

In a moment of reckless desperation to keep Crouch’s demented head from formulating another thought—one that threatened the sanctity of Sirius’ and Regulus’ bet, Sirius clenched the throat in his hand and crashed his lips against Crouch’s.

There was no love or wild revelations to be found in the kiss. It was animalistic and feral as they sucked and bit and swallowed each other. Sirius felt Regulus’ delicate curls be violated with twisting fingers as Crouch carded his digits through the perfectly placed locks, destroying them carelessly.

Sirius could feel the racing pulse beneath his fingertips and marveled at how it matched his own, beating furiously like a rabbit racing toward a finish line and well out of time.

Clothes crumpled, hair in disarray, lips bleeding, each boy desperate to deprive the other of oxygen as they selfishly stole the other’s breath.

Crouch forced himself against Regulus’ body, and Sirius could feel his hardness grind against Crouch’s swelling cock. For the first time in days, Sirius had no thoughts in his head as he ground against Crouch in a desperate attempt to seek out more.

The door opened, but neither boy could hear Evan and Remus' entrance as their gasps and moans drowned out all other sounds.

Crouch yanked Sirius’ hair back as his tongue licked a long stripe over the protruding blue vein of Sirius’ neck.

The Gryffindor's eyes fluttered open, and he saw the two boys with amused smirks in the corner of his eye.

The lack of jealousy only infuriated Sirius. How could they be so calm about their respective lovers engaging passionately with each other? And why couldn’t Sirius have that reaction when it came to Regulus?

Crouch assaulted Sirius’ neck, biting into it like a juicy bone, and Sirius let him continue as he tried to convey a casual air, asking in a strained voice, “How was your date?”

Remus chuckled and looked to Evan with sincerity, “You’ve got to stop calling it that.”

Evan walked over toward the pair and plucked the discarded book from the table and opened it, smiling to himself as he denied, “Shan’t.”

Crouch froze in Sirius’ arms, and empathy burned in Sirius’ chest, which was the only explanation for how he tenderly pet the sandy blonde head of hair attached to his neck like a leach.

Crouch removed himself from Sirius and greeted with a stiff, “Lupin, Evan.”

“Oh, don’t stop on our accord, Barty,” Evan said as he settled himself on the smaller chair next to Sirius, crossing his legs, his blue, cerulean eyes fixed on the book's pages.

Sirius watched as Crouch clenched his fists, gritted his teeth, and assembled a jesterly smile that resembled the one he had the displeasure of receiving from a different boy earlier this morning.

Sirius’ brows furrowed. He had never understood why Regulus enjoyed Crouch’s company. But seeing him in this light, every bit as vicious and jealous as he, every bit as determined to let himself be perceived as unaffected as James, every bit as clever as Remus—perhaps too clever, Sirius was thunderstruck by the revelation that there was so much more to the menace than Crouch allowed for people to see.

“Nah, I think Regulus may have worn me out,” Crouch said as he sent Sirius a forced wink and strolled toward the bathroom to take a shower and prepare for bed.

“How was it?” Rosier asked as he flipped through the bone pages of the borrowed novel.

“How was what?” Sirius asked.

“Kissing Barty,” Evan asked, looking up with a Cheshire grin. "Did you enjoy yourself, Black?”

“How was your date? Did you enjoy yourself, Rosier?” Sirius bit back.

“Quite enjoyable. Very—” Rosier licked the top row of pearly white teeth, “enlightening.”

Sirius shot up from the chair and was immediately pushed down again by a firm hand, “Sit down Regulus.”

Remus tutted as he sank his hands into his pockets and stood in front of Sirius’ splayed legs.

“You’ve been spending too much time with your brother. He’s starting to rub off on you.”

“Not enough, it would seem. What’s the matter, Black? All pent up? Poor little thing, all that blood bubbling up and nowhere to go. Trapped just beneath the surface. Barty seemed to have the right idea—trying to let it out,” Evan said as he took his thumb and swiped it across Sirius’ bottom lip, marveling at the crimson stain left behind before wrapping his tongue around it and sucking it salaciously.

“You’re mad.” Sirius balked as he watched Rosier give a performative lick before he plopped his chin on his fist and looked at Sirius wildly.

“We’re all mad here.” Rosier purred with a wink and stood to walk toward the beds. He paused between his and Crouch’s, seemingly deciding which bed to choose before finally climbing into his own, clutching the book in his hands.

Sirius looked up at the boy between his knees. A small indention just above his nose creased his beautifully scarred face.

“Would you mind terribly if I spent the night here? James and Sirius are having a much-needed talk, and I don’t want to interrupt any progress they might be making.”

Sirius swallowed thickly and shook his head, “You can—you can sleep in my bed if you like?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Remus’ mouth, threatening to expand, “Thank you.”

Remus held out a hand to lift Sirius out of the plush chair he had sunk himself into, and Sirius accepted it, peeling himself from the purgatorial frame.

The two boys had stripped themselves from behind opposite emerald curtains and climbed into the bed.

The silence between them was heavy, and finally, Sirius plucked up a bit of crimson beneath the emerald and asked, “How is James?”

“He’s—” Remus sighed, “Your brother was unkind to him this morning after you left. But I’m confident he’ll set things right tonight. I just hope Sirius is kinder tomorrow.” Remus said with a pointed look. They both knew the unspoken truth between them, and Sirius wilted at the deserved accusation.

“Sometimes he just gets in his head, you know? He doesn’t mean to be cruel.”

“I know he doesn’t, starlight,” Remus said softly.

The pet name specifically crafted for Sirius, according to Regulus, caused gray eyes to welt and water.

“Tell me something happy, Remus,” Sirius begged, eager to fill the aching cracks of his heart caused by his own destructive nature.

Remus sighed, “Well—there’s—there’s something I want to tell you—need to tell you, but I’m not sure you’ll think it’s happy.”

“Do you think it’s happy?” Sirius asked quietly as he fiddled with the silk-green sheets.

“I think it’s wonderful. I—I’m so happy about it, but—”

“Tell me,” Sirius asked eagerly, sensing Remus’ hesitation and feigning excitement in hopes that Remus would reveal what he found to be so wonderful.

“I—I kissed James.” Remus’ eyes were wide with excitement, but his lips were cautious, unwilling to reflect the happiness in his heart, and Sirius cursed himself for his earlier actions that prevented the grin that was begging to be let out from appearing.

“How was it?” Sirius smiled sincerely.

“Magical,” Remus said, and Sirius watched the thin line curl at the ends, and Sirius’ lips broadened at the sight.

“Did he run his hands through your hair?”

“God—yes—his hands are sinful. The things I want them to do to me.” Remus groaned as he ran his palms over his face, peeked through his fingers, and mumbled, “You’re not mad?”

“Do you—do you still like m—my brother?” Sirius muttered.

“I’m I—I have very strong feelings for your brother, and that is not diminished in the slightest by the very strong feelings I hold for James and—and you.” Remus hedged.

Sirius sighed and brought the covers up over his chest, just under his chin, feeling the itch, the urge to stake a claim over his brother, to let everyone who dared to look upon him or breathe in his general direction know whom he belonged to—whom he had belonged to since birth. But Regulus, who had so little affection in his life, was being offered a chance at love by the people Sirius cared most about, and it would be foolish to let his selfish animalistic desires be the reason his friends backed away from the opportunity to make his brother happy.

“I just wish Sirius could understand that it isn’t something–that it isn't a choice,” Remus whispered as he looked toward a starless ceiling.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked quietly.

“I think your brother is under the misconception that James is choosing Regulus over him, or that Regulus is choosing James over him, that I am choosing either over him. I don’t see any reason why we couldn’t be together if we all cared for each other.”

“What—you mean like—the four of us?” Sirius’ eyes grew large as he took in Remus’ words.

“Why not?”

“I—because—it isn’t done. You have to choose,” Sirius declared, aghast at the thought. But as he felt the meaty words between his teeth and chewed on them, letting the flavor build on his tongue and slide down his throat, he asked uncertainly, “Don’t you?”

“Who says?” Remus asked as he turned his head, challenging amber sparks as they burned through the stony gray.

Does she sound as shrill in your head as she sounds in mine?

Sirius hummed, attempting to drown out the voice that pierced his ears, telling him he was being selfish and greedy. Was it really that simple? Could he have everything?

“Well, you and James could have either of us—both of us—but Sirius and I could never have each other. Not fully.” Sirius lamented and felt Remus pull back the covers, slotting himself between pale thighs, caging Sirius’ head with his forearms.

“Who says?” Remus growled, his hot breath blowing across Sirius' face, past his lips, and down his throat, settling in his lungs and filling them with a warmth that pressed against his heart.

“It’s just not—”

“Done? Unlikely, but even so—let us be the first. Come on, Black, where is your sense of adventure?” Remus said, punctuating the final word with rolling hips that stoked a fire within him, and he whined at the delicious burn.

Sirius bowed his back and rolled his own hips, but Remus paused them with a bruising grip, “Not like this, Black. You’re not quite yourself. And while the image before me is intoxicating, I’d rather wait until you feel at home in your skin before I tear it apart.”

“I am in my own skin,” Sirius murmured, earning a low wolfish chuckle from Remus.

“Hmmm.” Remus licked along the purple flesh of Sirius’ neck and whispered against his ear, “So you are. But you’re not quite you, are you?”

Sirius shuttered pleasurably at the deep voice that whispered against his ear, “And I am not quite me.”

When Remus pulled back, Sirius could see golden flakes embedded in the amber grains of his irises, threatening to bleed out and overtake his typically calming eyes.

“So, when you are more you, and I am more me, we can continue. Until then, I think some sleep is well advised for the both of us.” Remus sealed his prescription with a soft lingering kiss before he rolled over onto his back, lifting the duvet and tucking them both in.

Chapter Text

The morning passed with little fanfare, and for the first time in a while, James felt like everything was right side up and forward facing. Though not everything was quite in place as he would have liked, he felt right with his white knight by his side and his white bishop directly in front of him. He did, however, long to capture the Black king surrounded by two rooks—forced by their own hands to move in straight lines, never colliding, only ever greeting each other in passage.

But James would not sacrifice his knight for the sake of a fool’s errand, so he sat in his ivory court, content for the time being.

But it was not meant to last.

Half of the day had passed in a blur, with a lingering fortune plaguing his thoughts. 

Sirius and Regulus had gone on their date , and James found himself studying for the upcoming charms exam in the library. 

The letters seemed to lift off the page and jumble around, making it hard to focus, and honestly, he could do with a diagram or two. What was the use of a book without pictures or conversations?

The chair next to him levitated and swiveled around, and the back of it kissed the table as two thighs straddled the seat. James looked up to see a sandy-haired rook hunched over, his chin on his folded arms, which rested on the top of the back frame.

“ Crouch ?” James greeted, puzzled by what could possibly have brought the boy so far across the board and into his territory.

“Have you noticed anything odd about your band of miscreants?” Crouch asked, green eyes fixed on the reading corner in the library.

“No.” James pinched his brows together, practically making the touch. 

The Slytherin oscillated his gaze from one corner of the large room to the other and muttered, “ They're up to something . And we’re going to get to the bottom of it.”

“We?” James choked. James could practically total the amount of time he had spent with Crouch within one turn of a long hand. So, it was hard to fathom why the Slytherin would place himself in cahoots to solve a non-existent mystery with James, “Get to the bottom of what? There’s nothing to get to the bottom of.”

Grassy green eyes made James itch as they roamed over him. Crouch looked up and down, then side to side, and a thin-lipped smile stretched impossibly wide as the Slytherin tilted his head and outstretched his hand to pet James’ dark, fluffy locks.

“Oh, you sweet Summer child,” Crouch cooed.

“I was born in March,” James frowned. The demon curled his fingers, trapping the hair beneath them, and manipulated James’ head to look at Remus and Evan as he leaned in to whisper against James’ ear, “ Open your eyes.”

The scoff died on his lips as he followed the trail of Crouch’s eyes to see Remus and Rosier sitting impossibly close together, muttering to each other and stealing glances at the pair in the other corner.

James followed their eyes to see a mirror image of Sirius and Regulus bunched up on the sofa. Sirius’ eyes remained on the two opposite them, and Regulus whispered in his brother’s ear.

Beware of trouble caused by treachery.

The warning rang in James’ ears as he looked back and forth between the four boys. The pieces on the board moved, leaving him unguarded and checked.

“Fuck—they’re up to something,” James admitted and felt the grip on his hair release and a sharp slap to his back.

“Attaboy Porter.” Crouch grinned.

James rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth as he corrected, “It’s Potter.”

Crouch rolled, waved his hand dismissively, and set it on James’ shoulder, squeezing it lightly, “That’s what I said. So, are you in, Painter?” 

A groan escaped James as he placed his two fingertips on either side of his temple, kneading the tension away, realizing why he had not allowed himself time to be in Barty Crouch Jr.’s presence.

Mumbling in reluctant agreement, James set his hands down, took another look at the four boys, and said, “Yeah, Crouch. Let’s go find out what these deviants are up to.”

“Great. We’ll start right away.” Crouch grabbed his hand, and the tolling of the bell in the distance caused James to redirect his attention to Moony, who was already staring at him with a curious smile.

“A—Actually, Crouch. I can’t tonight.”

“Whyever not?” Crouch asked, having the audacity to look disappointed at the delay.

James looked through the window at the full moon and lied smoothly, “I have Astronomy tonight.”

“No, you don’t.” Okay, maybe not that smoothly.

“How would you know?” James asked curiously, then teased, “Do you have my schedule memorized? Have you been following me? I’m ever so flattered, but I’m a taken man, darling.”

“No, you dolt,” Crouch deadpanned, “I know you don’t have Astronomy later because I have Astronomy later.”

Well, fuck.

Crouch moved slowly toward him, setting one hand on the back of James’ chair and the other on the desk beside them as he leaned in, ghosting his lips over James. “But trust and believe, James, if I wanted you, I would have you.”

White static obstructed his thoughts for a moment as he breathed in smoky cloves and practically tasted the bittersweet aroma on his tongue. 

But he washed it down with a dose of cool, glassy reality and quipped back in a sultry tone, “Lucky for me, you wear rose-colored lenses.”

Crouch straightened and looked toward Rosier as he bit his bottom lip then smoothed the pinch with a darting tongue.

“Tomorrow, then?” He asked, eyes and mind elsewhere.

James stood, gathering his books and placing them in his brown satchel, “Yeah, tomorrow is good.”

James looked between Remus and Sirius and nodded toward the library's exit. Both boys scrambled up, gathering their belongings to meet him, and the trio walked out, leaving the snakes to their own devices.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hullo, Peter,” a whimsical voice echoed in the kitchen. He needn’t turn to look who it was as he gathered a basket of snacks for the crew to munch on while they waited for the sun to set over the shrieking shack.

“Good evening, Pandora,” Peter mumbled tiredly.

“How are you this evening?” Pandora asked as she pulled up a stool and summoned the green sour grapes from the sack.

“Heyyyy!” Peter objected, trying to take them back, but Pandora playfully kept them out of reach.

“They’re mine. I’ve claimed them.” Pandora teased as she stuck out her tongue.

“Speaking of claiming,” Peter said, pointedly ignoring the way Pandora victoriously plopped a grape into her mouth and squeezed it slowly between her teeth, “any update on Crouch and your brother.”

A demonic groan erupted from Pandora as she rested her elbow on the counter, holding the roots in her long, silky hair like she was about to rip them from her scalp. “No. And they’re taking ages. ” She lamented, “What about your fellas and Regulus?”

“They’re getting there. Sirius is well—Sirius. Feelings are not his forte, but he'll come 'round once he realizes how much he stands to gain rather than lose .”

“Hmmm. Maybe I should pay him a visit.” Pandora pondered, smoothing out her hair and gathering it to pull together a braid.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Peter admitted casually before quickly snatching the grapes back while Pandora’s hands were occupied.

“Heyyyy!” She pouted as Peter placed them back in the satchel.

“My grapes,” Peter smirked, but his triumph was short-lived. Pandora summoned the entire satchel and dug through it in search of the fruit, looking very much like a little blonde raccoon.

Once she found them, she placed them on the counter between them and scooted the satchel toward Peter.

“Our grapes.”

Peter nodded at the compromise and took one for himself as he admitted, “I don’t know if this trading places situation is making things worse or better.”

“Definitely better,” Pandora declared, “it wouldn’t properly work if it weren’t the four of them. A piece of Sirius’ heart would always belong to Regulus. And tragic as it would be, if James and Remus had never gotten to know Regulus the way they have, they would still thrive without him. But Sirius would wilt away without that closeness he’s craved all his life. The bit beyond brotherly affection. He’d always feel like a piece of him was missing.”

Peter recalled the few weeks of summer when he had visited James and saw a ghost of the boy he knew when Sirius was parted from his brother. Even when they weren’t particularly genial to each other in the years prior, he couldn’t help but notice how Sirius’ ears would perk up at the mention of Regulus’ name or the way his eyes seemed to trail after him as he walked past and remained fixed on the point in which Regulus disappeared.

He’d always known there was more to the pair than met the eye. Ever observant, but silent so as not to wake the sleeping lion lest he be bitten.

Peter gained a lot of knowledge with his quiet observations; most underestimated him or didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence, which suited him just fine as he never truly wished to be perceived.

Even his friends hadn’t realized how often he was there to witness their encounters, but it was like watching a real-life drama play out before his eyes, so he wasn’t truly bothered by how often he was forgotten.

“I think you’re right,” Peter said, throwing the satchel over his shoulder.

“Do you think Moony would be up for a visitor or two tonight?” Pandora asked hopefully.

Peter shook his head, “In the wake of everything, he’s been a little more unpredictable lately. I think Remus would prefer the usual suspects.”

Pandora wilted but nodded understandingly, “Perhaps next time.”

Peter placed his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it lightly as he passed, but before he walked out of the kitchen, he mentioned, “I’m sure he would love to see you tomorrow though.”

A small smile found its way to Peter’s face as Pandora visibly brightened and continued to eat the grapes he had left on the counter.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Hey you,” Barty crouched to pet the familiar black feline that strutted up toward him as he met the bottom of the stairs from the astronomy tower.

The Slytherin cooed as he let his hand drift over the cat’s spine, marveling at the way it waved at his touch, “I haven’t seen you for a while now. You going out to see your loverboy?”

The black cat chattered and scaled his arm, digging tiny holes into the white fabric with his dainty claws before settling on his shoulder.

“No? Want to walk back down with me to the room?” Barty asked as he stood and heard another chatter indicating the cat’s disinclination to head toward the dungeons.

“Alright, darling, where would you like to go?”

The cat sent a sharp nod toward the stairs, and Barty scoffed as he muttered, “Stalker.”

A hiss followed by a batting paw with outstretched claws that got caught in Barty’s hair caused him to curse, “Fuck, Reg. I was only teasing. Warn a guy before you assault him.”

Cold gray eyes sent him a withering stare, and Barty whined as he looked back at the staircase but begrudgingly climbed as he muttered, “Spoiled brat. I should make you walk the stairs.”

Regulus sat primly on his shoulder, looking every bit like his namesake as Barty continued to walk up slowly.

A wicked thought formed, and Barty intentionally misstepped, forcing the cat on his shoulder to dig into the fabric as he was jostled from his makeshift throne.

“Whoops,” Barty smirked as Regulus righted himself and growled lowly.

When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Barty picked up the soft-haired kitten and placed him on the ground, giving Regulus a mocking bow as he announced, “The Astronomy Tower, Your Majesty.”

Regulus sauntered toward the edge with kingly strides and sat as he looked onto the horizon.

Barty joined him with slow, methodical steps before resting against a pillar and dangling one leg on the platform's edge. He watched as the midnight black-clad kitten searched for his usual unsuspecting playmates.

“Why didn’t you join them tonight?” Barty asked quietly and received no answer from the feline, who looked longingly toward the shack on the hill in the distance. A howl pierced through the night, and Regulus shuttered at the sound of pain.

It was third year when Barty untangled the mysterious web surrounding Remus Lupin, and an unnatural pang of sympathy for the lonely wolf rang through him. It didn’t take long for his friends to grow curious as to why the Slytherin had become increasingly fascinated by werewolves—immersing himself in lore and journals. Dorcas had always said Barty should have been a Gryffindor with his ever-present lack of self-preservation and lack of fear. But Evan, who knew him best, always denied it. Barty was reckless, which was true, but it was a calculated brashness, and to quote the angel that haunted him, Bravery is to overcome the fear that dwells within. Barty had no such fear apart from where his angel was concerned.

Barty groaned at the thought of platinum hair and cerulean eyes. The boy plagued him in the worst ways. In the best of ways. The worst addiction he had ever partaken. Less than a lover, more than a friend. Unable to bridge the gap between the two. James Potter’s words echoed in his head like a siren’s call beckoning him to taste the space between.

Stupid Potter.

A serpentine smile slithered across Barty’s lips, flat and wide, as he distracted himself with the demon in his view.

“Oh, Loverboyyyy.” Barty sang and cackled when the cat gave him a deathly glare, “Oh, don’t be like that. You were so sweet to me last night.”

Barty watched as the fine hairs raised on the kitten’s back in an adorable attempt to look threatening.

“Ohh, sweetheart,” Barty pouted mockingly, “Come here and give us a kiss.”

Regulus took a single step toward Barty and swatted at him with sharp claws that would have drawn blood if he had been anywhere near Barty, but as it stood, Barty was several square tiles away from the menace.

The rook rose from his place across the board and walked in a sure straight line, standing directly in front of the kitten, who abruptly transformed into the familiar boy he adored, complete with a scowling stare.

“You weren’t nearly as opposed to the idea last night, kitten.”

“I must have been out of my mind.” Regulus drolled as he lowered his gaze to inspect his nails.

“You weren’t quite yourself, that’s for sure,” Barty smirked knowingly, and an unknown truth hung between them like a bright neon sign that both parties refused to acknowledge.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree and wasting your affections on me.” Regulus sighed.

Barty took the boy's chin in his hand, forcing him to look up toward the slightly taller boy. “Not a single ounce of affection I have ever given you has been a waste, Regulus Black.”

Pale pink dusted the bridge of Regulus’ nose and the tips of his ears. While Barty could appreciate why Regulus had not one but three suitors pursuing him, the blush only reminded him of the angel in the dungeons, likely nestled in his bed, a book in hand, waiting for the pair to return so they could embark on their moonlit adventure.

“One of these days, Bartemius,” Regulus said softly, breaking him out of his musings.

“What?” Barty asked with a dopey smile.

Regulus shook his head, ruffling his curls, as he sighed defeatedly, “Never mind. Let’s go.”

Regulus walked toward the stairs and paused, turning back to Barty to curse him with wide, pleading eyes.

Barty looked down toward the stairs and sighed, “Yes, alright. Come along, Princess.”

Cherry blossoms tinted Regulus’ cheeks, and Barty mourned the loss as a kitten climbed onto his arm, working his way up to Barty’s shoulder as the pair descended toward the rosy depths of the castle.

Chapter Text

As soon as Sirius entered the shack, he was shoved against the wooden wall, which gave into his frame, and he was affronted by the assault.

“Hey!” Sirius cried as a warm forearm bit against his throat.

“I need to know,” Remus said, clearly agitated. Amber waxed and waned around whiskey eyes. “Are you you?”

“Of course I’m me; who else would I be?” Sirius asked, annoyed as he tried in vain to shuck off the arm, pinning him to the planks.

Remus growled and James began to walk toward the boys to diffuse the situation, but Peter held him back and whispered something in his ear.

“Black,” Remus croaked a panic set in his eyes as the moon began to lose her shadow. “I need to know. Tell me something—tell me something only Sirius would know.”

The plea was whispered soft and pained as beads of sweat trickled down from Remus’ temples.

Recognition dawned on Sirius in rose golden hues, and he lifted his hands to cup the face of the terrified boy.

“I am more me than I have been as of late,” Sirius whispered sincerely, “and no one and nothing could keep me from a night such as this.”

“Please, Sirius—uhnnn,” Remus fought against time, desperate to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sirius was who he claimed to be. “Fuck— please.”

Sirius withdrew his wand from its holster and whispered three words before transforming into a large black canine.

Remus’ knees grew shaky, and he collapsed on the floor, gripping the fur around Padfoot’s neck harshly.

A whine bellowed out from wet black lips, not in physical pain but in despair at the agony he had caused his friend. With a long, rough tongue, Padfoot began to lap at the salty tears trailing down Remus’ face, absorbing the flavor and licking into Remus’ open mouth as he cried out in pain.

The transformation was quick and painful, and Moony whimpered as he adjusted to the change.

With glacier-like movements, Padfoot lowered himself beneath the crouching wolf and licked and nipped at Moony’s paws.

In a flash, the wolf buried his teeth into the back of Padfoot’s neck, and the black dog stilled. The sharp pearls embedded in Padfoot’s scruff didn’t hurt as long as he didn’t move. So, he stayed still and whimpered under the vice of Moony’s jaw.

The wolf was always marginally disoriented after the transformation, but slowly, he came into himself and recognized Padfoot as he breathed in deeply, absorbing the canine’s scent.

Pressure abided in Padfoot’s neck as Moony slowly unclamped his jaw and began to lap at the minor scrapes of jagged teeth, cleaning away the evidence of uncertainty. When Padfoot was sure Moony was satisfied, he raised himself from his prone position on the floor and barked playfully.

A rustling noise came from the corner of the shack, and a small white rabbit appeared at the door, staring at the four unafraid and unbothered as if it didn’t recognize its station as prey amongst predators.

Moony snarled and slowly stalked toward the rabbit, swaying his hips with every step, yet the rabbit remained unmoved.

Just as the wolf gnashed its teeth, eager to gain the easy prize of a quick meal, the rabbit scurried off past the door of the room and through the tunnel that would lead it to freedom and safety.

Moony quickly followed, and Wormtail squeaked in annoyance while Prongs shook his head, and the three bounded after their wolf.

They raced through the tunnels, and when they reached the opening of the tree, the landscape was painted in the pale white light of the full moon, making it easy to find their companion racing toward the forbidden forest.

The three bounded after him, and when they found him, he was looking around wildly and sniffing the air, desperate to catch the scent of his dinner.

Padfoot barreled into the wolf, jumping on his back, and was quickly shucked off, his spine hitting the earth beneath them while Moony hovered over the exposed belly of the black grim.

An annoyed growl vibrated between them, and as the wolf’s snout grew closer to the dog, almost as large as him, Padfoot licked at the nose, causing Moony to shake his head rapidly in confusion.

Padfoot barked jovially and scurried away from the wolf, running a few feet away before glancing back.

Chase me. The look said, and Moony sniffed around, searching for the white-haired bunny, but he had lost all trace of it.

With a slow trot, Moony headed toward Padfoot, and once the dog was certain his wolfish friend would follow him, he raced deeper into the forest, dogging trees and branches along the way.

Wormtail had perched himself on top of Prongs’ antlers as the stag galloped after the two canines and found them in a clearing by a brook.

The four frequented this area of the forest, dubbing it their playground as they splashed in the water and rolled around in the weeds. The grass often coated their fur with an assortment of flower petals and seeds.

More often than not, Wormtail would join them in their antics, but tonight, he was pleased to just be among them, watching the other three animals play.

Just at the edge of the clearing was a large Douglas fir tree nearly thirty meters high, the perfect perch for Wormtail to climb and watch his boys.

The rat scurried down the antlers of a paused Prongs and began to climb the tree.

Once he reached a high enough height, Wormtail transformed into his usual self, a treat none of the other boys got to taste: to see Moony in all his glory with human eyes.

Of course, none of the other boys knew what Peter was doing, too engrossed in their games as Prongs had joined them and found his antlers stuck in a patch of bluebells that wrapped around the bone the more Prongs tugged. Frustrated, Prongs pulled hard, dislodging the flowers from the root, and the stems clung to his antlers, crowning him in purplish-blue petals.

Peter chuckled as Prongs waved his head back and forth in a feeble attempt to remove the flowers while Padfoot let out a sound that Peter could only describe as a dog cackling.

The stag gave his friend an unamused glare and lowered his head before charging at the dog, but Padfoot quickly dodged the threat and wagged his tail before making his own attempt at a joust.

Moony lay on the grass among the purple heather and gave an amused huff as he watched the two try to impale each other.

Peter let his legs dangle from the branch and heard a rustling from the edge of the clearing near his tree. He looked down to see a familiar rabbit watching the pair as they jumped Moony, disturbing them from his peace.

The white rabbit took the opportunity to stumble up the tree. After a few falls and setbacks, the rabbit managed to perch itself on Peter’s branch and settled in his lap.

“I thought I told you not to come tonight,” Peter admonished as he stroked the soft fur, watching his friends burn their energy out beneath the moon and stars as they waited for the sun to rise.

“Yes, well, you know I’ve never been good at following directions, Peter,” Pandora said as she transformed and nestled against him while he continued to play with her hair.

Their friendship was an unusual sort, but everything about Pandora was unusual. It was part of her charm—unpredictable yet reliable, rivaling all others. She first came bouncing into his life when he was in his second year and adopted him as her own, aiding him in his journey through divination and enlightenment. They had formed an agreeable alliance and were well-matched in their abilities to choose when they wanted to be noticed.

Frequently, they would gossip over tea in the Ravenclaw tower, never sharing the secrets they learned in their unspelled disillusionment with anyone apart from themselves and finding solidarity through frustration at their friends’ aims to achieve romantic love amongst each other. 

Silent voyeurs to the soap opera playing out before them.

In the corner of his eye, Peter saw a bushy-tailed, blonde fox scurry across the grass, dismantling Padfoot from his winning position against the wolf. The fox attached itself to Padfoot’s back, and he desperately tried to shake it off, but the animal had dug its claws into the dog, and the pair looked very much like a cowboy attempting to stay on top of an angry bull.

Meanwhile, a snowshoe hare caught the stag's eye, and Prongs went prancing after it, chasing it all around the clearing as it ran in circles around the border.

Peter watched with bated breath as a small black kitten slowly walked toward the impossibly large wolf. He shook his head, whispering to Pandora, “This was a bad idea.”

Moony caught the scent of the feline as a sharp gust of wind blew from the south, and Peter gasped and scrambled against the limb of the tree, eager to stop whatever was sure to come.

He felt a tug against his arm, pulling him back, and Pandora’s eyes said, "Wait. Watch. "

The kitten stopped dead in its tracks as the wolf rolled from its back and onto its legs, creeping forward toward the kitten.

Five long, slow strides, and the wolf was on him.

Peter nearly jumped out of the tree as Moony’s hindquarters obstructed his view of the kitten.

Sweat poured down his temple as he watched the wolf lower his head.

From Peter’s misconstrued view, it looked as if the wolf had swallowed the kitten whole, and the boy whimpered at the sight.

A warm tingle of relief spread across Peter’s body and relaxed him as the wolf turned around with the kitten dangling limply, the scruff of its neck captured by harmless teeth.

Moony trotted back to his spot in the heather and laid down, placing the kitten in the triangular gap between his front legs, and the wolf began to lap at the kitten, bathing it with love.

The kitten sat up and rubbed its cheeks along the wolf's nose. Once satisfied with his marking, it settled against Moony’s chest, and the wolf lowered his head to blanket the kitten with the cool October night air.

Finally, Padfoot was able to buck off the fox and snorted in its direction before wandering over to the relaxed pair. He settled in front of Moony, giving the kitten a tiny lick before slotting his muzzle against the wolf’s.

Prongs had given up on his game of tag with the hare, exhausted by its endurance, and galloped toward the trio to rest next to Moony.

“See?” Pandora beamed as Peter watched the quad of beasts rest beneath the lightening sky of the early morning.

She frowned as she looked beyond the four, and Peter followed her gaze to see the snowshoe hair trapped in the fox’s teeth, white hair pinkened by a fraction of blood.

“Bartemius Crouch Jr, you put him down this instant!” Pandora bellowed, earning the wolf's attention, who raised his head alarmingly at the human voice.

Peter cringed as he looked down to see Moony growling at them, but the gentle paw of the kitten in his arms soared up and kissed Moony’s muzzle, trying to draw his attention back where it belonged.

A low growl from the wolf was met with a hiss from the kitten, which startled him, and though he lowered his head back down, he kept his eyes fixed on the humans in the tree.

Barty dropped the hare from his teeth and licked at the bite marks, but the hare made no move to run away from the predator.

“They’re mad.” Peter shook his head as he observed the unlikely pair.

“Don't you know Peter?” Pandora yawned as she sprawled out against her friend, “All the best people are.”

As the sun threatened to peak over the horizon, Peter woke a sleeping Pandora and signaled it was time for their descent.

Peter transformed and went first. Once he reached the bottom, he kept an eye on Moony, and deeming it safe enough to transform back, he became human once again so that he might catch the white rabbit should she fall.

She did, in fact, tumble out of the tree and land directly into Peter’s waiting arms. Once he settled her on the ground, she hopped over toward the hare and the fox to gather them while Peter resumed his animagus form to sneak over toward the sleeping hodgepodge of animals.

With a gentle paw, he woke Prongs first, knowing he would be the least adverse to the disturbance.

The stag lifted his head and took in the mauve sky, promptly standing on all fours to rouse the other sleepers.

Regulus looked annoyed as he winked his eyes open, but upon seeing the state of the sky, he gave the wolf a small lick and scurried off to join his friends.

Once the four were out of the clearing, Prongs woke the other two, and the four lazily walked back to the shrieking shack.

It wasn’t long after they arrived that Remus transformed back. They usually never stayed out so late, and the transformation back to humanity often happened in his sleep, but this time, he was awake for the painful ordeal.

Peter was the first of the three to transform, gathering his picnic basket and an assortment of goodies for Remus to munch on while he waited for Madam Pomphrey,

“How was it?” Remus croaked.

Peter supplied a glass of water for him as James answered, “Another successful adventure.”

Sirius remained as Padfoot, curling into Remus, giving him something soft and warm to cling to.

“Your friend came back,” James said warily, “She brought a few more with her this time.”

“Oh?” Remus asked as he set the half-finished glass on the table next to the sofa he had sprawled out on, “Odd.”

“Surprisingly, not that odd if you think about it,” James said, giving Peter a look that promised we’re going to talk about this later.

Peter gulped and blushed as he handed Remus a sandwich.

James walked over and gave Remus a chaste kiss on the scar that separated that perfect tawny brow and muttered, “Come along, Padfoot. Madame Pomphrey will be here any minute.”

Padfoot whined but acquiesced, transforming back into Sirius.

He tore himself from the tired boy and leaned down to his lips to the same spot James had.

“Will I see you later?” Remus asked as he fiddled with the blanket.

“Of course you will.” Sirius soothed as he ran a finger over the scar, “I’ll come bring you breakfast, yeah?”

“You know they give me breakfast in the hospital wing,” Remus smirked.

“Yeah, but they don’t give you the good stuff. And they don’t feed you nearly as much as you ought to eat.” Sirius smiled, “any special requests?”

“Birthday cake?”

“Moony, your birthday isn’t for another five months,” James laughed as he leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed.

“It’s bound to be someone’s birthday.”

“You want us to steal someone’s birthday cake?” Sirius grinned.

“No,” Remus pouted.

“Hmmm. How about an unbirthday cake?” Sirius asked.

“What’s an unbirthday cake?” James frowned in confusion.

“I don’t know. I read about it in one of Regulus’ books.”

Peter smirked, “One of Regulus’ books?”

Sirius faltered, “Well, Regulus had it. I assumed it must have been given to him by someone.”

Remus laughed heartily, “Stole is more like.”

“He stole it? Regulus doesn’t steal. He doesn’t have the constitution for it.” Sirius declared.

“I think you’ll find,” Remus grinned, “That your brother has the constitution for a lot more than you give him credit for.”

Sirius gaped as Remus continued, “And believe me, stealing is well within his wheelhouse.”

“Oh?” James asked, amusement gleaming in his eyes.

“Oh yes, he’s quite adept,” Remus whispered sleepily, “our little hoarder of hearts.”

Chapter Text

“We had some visitors last night,” James muttered to Peter, sitting directly across from him at the Gryffindor table. The three hadn’t a moment to spare and beelined for the Great Hall after their night out. Sirius was struggling to stay awake, worn out by the fox—Barty, and though James was equally exhausted, he wanted answers.

Peter quietly passed the jam to James once he finished buttering his toast. James took it and began to spread the red freckled preserves on his bread, creating a scraping noise that bothered his ears.

“Care to explain why they were there or how they knew to be there.” James raised a brow. He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, wanting to hear every side of the story before casting any judgment. So he offered Peter a chance to explain himself, praying that he hadn’t betrayed Remus in the worst possible way.

A firm, warm hand squeezing his shoulder startled James and he looked up between himself and Sirius to find a clean and tidy Barty Crouch Jr. grinning wildly.

“This seat taken?”

James looked down at the minimal space between Sirius and James and prepared to ask what seat? But the words died in his throat before they reached his tongue as Barty made room for himself.

Sirius whined and opened his eyes to be greeted by an entirely too chipper face.

“Black,” He purred out.

Sirius’ eyes widened comically as he took in the boy disrupting his breakfast nap, and then, just as quickly, they narrowed.

“You,” Sirius growled.

“Me.”

“What are you doing here?” Sirius spat half-heartedly, too tired to put full disdain into his groggy voice.

“Cheer up, Black,” Barty said as he pet the long wavy locks and whispered in Sirius’ ear, “I come bearing gifts.”

Sirius’ brows crinkled, and Crouch nodded toward the space directly in front of Sirius, where his little brother was shifting from one foot to another.

“Siri—can I sit here?” Regulus asked shyly.

Sirius rattled the sleep out of his head, and Regulus mistook the shaking head for rejection.

Light stone gray eyes sank to the floor, and Sirius quickly said, “Of course, you can, Reggie. ‘Course you can.”

Rosier wrapped an arm around Regulus, and the pair sank in the seat next to Peter.

On the other side of the mousey boy, Pandora made herself at home, asking no permission, knowing it was already granted as no one could deny Pandora anything.

James was distracted by the invasion of serpents and felt the toast in his hand slip through his fingers. He watched as it found its way into Crouch’s open mouth.

“Hey!”

“Come on, Planter,” Crouch grinned, a dribble of strawberry dripping down his chin, “Sharing is caring. You know how to share, don’t you?”

Crouch looked every bit as sly and carnivorous as the fox from last night, red staining around his mouth from his early morning catch.

“Not with you,” James muttered as he grabbed another piece of toast, repeating his ritual of slathering it with butter and jam.

“Regulus knows how to share with me.” Barty taunted salaciously as he licked the red remnants from his lips.

“What is that supposed to mean?” James asked as he looked at Regulus, who was every bit as confused as he was.

“Just the other night, we shared a passionate kiss,” Barty stage whispered.

“No, we didn’t,” Regulus denied, half-alarmed, half-disgusted.

“Yes, we did.”

“Yes, you did,” Barty and Evan said simultaneously.

Regulus’ brows furrowed, and then he seemed to have some recollection as he looked at Sirius, who was notably staring into his coffee.

Interesting.

“Oh, yes. I remember now,” Regulus said as he waved his hand nonchalantly, “hardly noteworthy, Barty.”

Crouch gasped, clutching his chest, “That’s twice now you’ve rebuffed my abilities.”

“Maybe you’re just not that good of a kisser, Barty,” Rosier said idly.

An indignant squawk erupted from Crouch, drawing the attention of the other Gryfindors further down the table.

Crouch leaned over and whispered, “I’ll have you know I am a phenomenal kisser.”

“Two for two says you’re not,” Rosier smirked.

“What does Regulus know? I’ll prove it to you.” Crouch gritted.

James’ eyes flicked back and forth between the two; his heart pounded at the revelation that these two idiots were finally going to kiss.

But in an unexpected turn of events, Crouch sat back in his seat, grabbed James’ face, and crashed it into his own.

Shock overtook James, and he couldn’t remember anything, not how to push or pull, how to speak or think. His head was surprisingly empty of all thoughts as the Slytherin ran his serpentine tongue against James’ lips. When they didn’t open of their own accord, Crouch tugged at James’ hair, causing him to gasp and open his mouth to the unexpected assault.

As soon as Crouch’s tongue slipped against his, James’ brain became flooded with something akin to desire. He didn’t feel any emotions beyond want. The taste of minty strawberries coated his tongue, and he soon began to chase the taste and feel of Crouch.

But just as he had grown accustomed to the sensation, Crouch pulled back, and James leaned forward to chase the kiss. A clearing throat brought him back to the table, where his friends and lovers were watching him with mixed emotions.

Pandora was unbothered as she poured some cream into her coffee and stirred it.

Peter was pushing his food away, seemingly having lost his appetite.

Rosier was frowning, his fists clenched on top of the table.

Regulus was stifling a laugh behind the hand that covered his mouth.

And Sirius—Sirius was adorned with a guilty smile.

Very interesting.

James looked back at Barty, who fixed him with an impatient stare, awaiting his fair judgment.

“Well?” Crouch asked.

James looked back at Regulus, who was turning a delicious shade of pink as he held back the giggles that threatened to erupt.

With a smirk, James leaned closer to Crouch and whispered against his lips, “I don’t know, Crouch. How ‘bout we make it best two out of three? That way, I can give you a proper assessment of your skills.”

Crouch’s eyes grew wide, and his grin soon followed, “Yeah, alright, Potter, you’re on,” Crouch barely grazed James’ lips, a tease of a taste when he suddenly screamed in pain.

James looked down to see a fork embedded in Crouch’s hand. Tiny beads of crimson pooled to the surface, coating his golden brown hand and the fork in Gryffindor colors.

“That’s enough, Bartemius,” Rosier growled as he dislodged the fork.

“Ow,” Barty said, and though Rosier didn’t look back up at him, the wounded serpent had a gentle smile plastered on his face as he wrapped his hand in a cloth napkin.

Regulus rolled his eyes as he took a bite of the potatoes on his plate, and James turned his attention back to the green-faced boy.

“Why were they there last night, Peter?” James asked quietly.

“Why was who where?” Barty asked.

“Why were you there?”

“Where was I?” Barty asked, taking another bite of James’ toast.

“You know where.” James gritted.

“I am quite often found in many places and various times. You’ll have to elaborate.”

“Last night, why were you there?”

“At the astronomy tower? Because I had class.” Barty said.

James felt a pain in his head forming between his eyes.

“Not the astronomy tower. There.”

“Where is there, James? There can be many places or no place at all.”

“How can you be no place at all?” James shook his head, trying to stay on track.

“Well, you see—“

“No, I don’t see—“

Crouch observed his glasses, taking them off his head, “Oh, yes. I can see that, but Merlin, these are thick.”

James swiped his glasses back and growled lowly, “Why were you at the forbidden forest last night?”

“I wasn’t at the forbidden forest last night,” Crouch declared.

“I saw you there,” James accused,

“Did you?”

James turned to Pandora, pointing his finger at her, “Well, I definitely saw her, and she said your name,”

“Don’t point, James,” Pandora chided, “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to point.”

James curled his finger in.

“Well, yes, but you were there.”

“Where, James?” Pandora asked innocently.

“At the forbidden forest.” James gritted out.

“No, I wasn’t there last night,” Pandora said.

James looked between Peter and Pandora and slumped back defeatedly.

“We were there this morning,” Crouch said, a mocking grin on his face as he stole the other piece of toast from James’ plate.

“Listen here, you little shit,”

“James, focus,” Regulus chided, a half smile on his face.

“How?” James asked, “It’s practically impossible with these clowns.”

“Practically impossible with those glasses,” Crouch muttered.

James scowled and breathed deeply, “Why were you at the Forbidden Forest this morning?”

“We wanted to play with the wildlife,” Barty shrugged.

“How do you know about the wildlife?” James asked and looked to Peter to get to the crux of his confusion, “Did you tell them?”

It sounded more accusatory than he meant, and James watched as Peter’s eyes widened and sank in hurt.

“James, I would never.”

“Then how do they know.”

“No need to cut anyone’s head off,” Crouch said as he wiped his face with the blood-stained napkin.

He turned to James and pierced him with sage green eyes, “I know because I’m clever.”

“It’s not hard to keep track of patterns, the way Lupin is always missing class at a particular time of the month, the way his eyes flash gold, the way that he eats more directly before and eats less directly after, the way he grows more irritable and more animalistic when he’s feeling wolfish,” Crouch whispered lowly.

“How long have you known?” James muttered.

“Since third year.”

“Third—“

“And you’ve known they knew all this time?” James asked Peter.

“No—I only found out at the end of last year,” Peter swore.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You know how hard it was for Remus to let us help him through the moons. You really think he would allow for them to help?” Peter said softly, “Besides, he would be so worried that other people knew, and I didn’t want Moony to be more agitated by Remus’ anxiety. You know what he gets like when Remus is anxious.”

And James did know. Particularly toward the end of the year, when exams were looming over them, Moony became more self-destructive, clawing at himself, desperate to let the consternation bleed out.

“They aren’t gonna say anything,” Peter said quietly. “They wouldn’t do that.”

James looked back at Crouch, whose jaw was clenched as if he were ready for a fight from James. Pandora continued her unbothered demeanor. Evan’s chin jutted up in defiance as if he were waiting for James to speak ill of his friends and Regulus—Regulus looked guilty but determined, as if nothing James had to say would keep him from Moony.

James thought back on the gentle way Moony had cared for the kitten last night, and he knew it would be cruel to separate them. But that was Remus’ choice. And he had a right to make it.

“No, I don’t think they would,” James acquiesced, “But Remus has the right to know.”

Peter slumped his shoulders and nodded.

“Then I’ll tell him,” Regulus declared.

James nodded, and the silence fell over the table as they resumed their breakfast.

The quietude didn’t last long as Sirius asked curiously, “Do you all have names for your animangi?”

“No,” Rosier said firmly, “You are not fixing us with your ghastly attempts at nicknames.”

“Oi! My names are perfect, Bunbun.”

“Absolutely the fuck not. Firstly, that name is ridiculous,” Rosier huffed, “secondly, I’m not a fucking bunny—“

“Hey!” Pandora pouted.

“No offense, Dora,” Rosier cringed.

“It’s okay, bunbun. I forgive you,” Pandora smirked as Rosier groaned in indignation.

“I think it’s cute,” Crouch grinned devilishly, “it suits you, Bunbun.”

“Thank you, foxy,” Sirius winked.

“Oh, I like that.” Crouch purred.

“What’s Pandora’s name?” Peter piped up jovially.

Sirius looked her up and down and declared with a smile, “Lucky.”

“Oi! How come they get normal names?” Rosier cried out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sirius said as he straightened his posture and altered his voice into a perfect posh lit, “Bunbun is a perfectly respectable name.”

The table erupted in laughter while Rosier’s cheeks bloomed.

“Siri?” Regulus asked as he slowly batted his lashes, “What’s my name?”

“Beelzebub,” Sirius deadpanned, finally earning a grin from Rosier.

***

Everything ached. His muscles, his bones, Remus could even swear that his blood ached at the way it languidly pumped through his body, too tired and pained to pick up any speed.

But as he opened his sore eyes, he found himself staring at a partially eaten cake on his nightstand.

“Please tell me you didn’t steal some poor sod’s birthday cake.” Remus groaned as he sat up in the hospital bed.

James promptly fetched a handful of pillows to prop Remus up with, fussing and fluffing them before gently placing them behind his abused back.

“I solemnly swear I did not steal some poor sod’s birthday cake,” Sirius promised.

Remus nodded in satisfaction and quirked his brow at the obvious bite that had been taken from the perfect triangular piece.

“Barty stole it,” Sirius admitted with a grin, “then the bastard claimed a bite, calling it “fees for a heist well executed.”

“Hmm,” Remus pursed his lips but took the plate in hand, and slid the edge of the fork between the vanilla icing shaving off a bit of it.

“And what did you do to obtain it,” Remus asked, “I doubt you’re blameless in this heist.”

“I provided a distraction,” Sirius said as he picked at the imaginary dust on his sleeve.

The cake was just about to reach Remus’ lips, but he paused and frowned, asking, “What kind of distraction?”

“Well, let’s just say that Rosier will have excellent hearing for the next few hours.”

James burst out in laughter as he elaborated, “Sirius—transfigured—Evan’s ears—to rabbit ears.”

Remus barked out a laugh that had his ribs aching, “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Sirius smirked victoriously.

“I’ll bet he loved that.” Remus shook his head as he slipped the fork into his mouth, savoring the sugary sweetness.

“Oh, he was over the moon,” Sirius agreed.

“Crouch wouldn’t stop playing with them,” James said. He kept threatening to stab him with a fork again, but I think he was secretly pleased when Crouch kept stroking his ears.”

“Again?” Remus’ eyes shot up in alarm, “What did I miss?”

The two launched into the tale of their breakfast adventures sans the revelations of the four new furry friends.

“Pete looked like he was gonna be sick,” Sirius barked as he rehashed the reactions of James’ and Barty’s unexpected kiss.

“I thought Evan was going to murder me on the spot.” James admitted, “Or Crouch.”

“Which is weird because he seemed so unbothered when we—“ Sirius cut himself off, eyes wide as Remus’ lips spread wide.

“When you what, Sirius?” Remus mocked, knowing full well what he was admitting to.

“Nothing,” Sirius said quickly.

“No, go on. When you—?”

“Anyway—“ Sirius growled in annoyance at his faux pas, and Remus let it slide as Sirius misdirected, “James tried to go for seconds.”

Remus’ eyes grew large as he turned toward James, sporting a beautiful mauve blush as he scratched the back of his head.

“Listen—I don’t know what Regulus was on about; Crouch is a phenomenal kisser.”

Sirius groaned in what could easily be construed as displeasure at the declaration, but the glazed eyes revealed the truth of Sirius’ reluctant agreement.

“Well, it’s lucky for us then that Regulus isn’t interested in kissing Crouch.”

The three boys remained silent. They hadn’t addressed their communal affections for the younger black, nor had Sirius and James truly put their hearts on the table for the other to see, to feel, to eat. Remus studied Sirius, waiting for his reaction—hoping it would be favorable.

Remus was rewarded with a blushing smile as he looked up at James quietly but clearly stating, “Yeah. Lucky for us.”

The silence this time was not one of bated breath but of calm and peace as each of the boys thought of dark curls and ash-gray eyes.

Chapter Text

“Prongs,” Barty greeted jovially as he sat down on the grass next to an invisible Potter. He had been watching the Gryfindor, waiting for him to be alone so they could plot. But he had grown curious when Potter had begun acting suspicious, lurking in a corner stalking someone—someones—anxiously ducking behind the stone wall when he thought he had been spotted, then he had reached in his bag and pulled nothing out. He held onto the nothing, waving it out before placing the nothing on top of himself until he became nothing.

So that’s how they get away so easily.

Barty had chased emptiness, knowing it only by the scent it left behind. Citrus sweetness filled his nostrils, and Barty sought after it until it grew overwhelming, just beneath him, beside him, on the ground.

Nothingness enveloped him quickly and was replaced by twinkling threads that shimmered with magic and madness.

“This is quite nice,” Barty complimented as he thumbed the fabric between his fingers, feeling the velvety smoothness.

“Not so loud!” James hissed.

“They’re several meters away, Potter,” Barty whispered mockingly, “I doubt they can hear us.”

“Padfoot can hear exceptionally well,” James countered, “He’s been able to since he first transformed into a dog. Some of the canine characteristics have crossed over and kind of—stuck. Surely, you've noticed.”

In truth, Barty had noticed. Not only had his senses become sharper, but his need to hunt a particular snowy white hare, who seemed just a hair faster than him at every turn, had gotten more and more obvious, even to himself. Achingly so.

“Potter,” Barty whispered as he let the fabric glide against his fingertips, calming him while his heart raced, “You love Sirius.”

It was a fact, and Barty stated it as such. Sirius, being oblivious to it, only proved the earlier statement of his likeness to a dog: he was easily distracted with a short attention span. Because if Sirius had bothered to watch the way James looked at him, had looked at him for a while now, he would have seen what was so painfully clear to anyone else with eyes.

James didn’t acknowledge the statement. With no room for questions, there wasn’t need to. But Barty had a question bursting within him, desperately searching for a way out. Beneath the blanket of voiceless stars and a silent sun, the query that plagued him crawled out from the center of his chest, up his throat and off his tongue searching for its mate in the compact night beneath the mid-day.

“How did you know you were in love with him?”

The sun beamed at Barty, making him sweat as he waited for his question to be met with an answer that was desperate to be heard.

It grew hot in their little space, and Barty could easily lift back the curtain of night to let the cool October breeze in. However, to do so, he would have to risk his secrets getting out, mingling with the wind and soaring them to long, pointed, white ears.

So he sat there, letting the humidity of the intimate question linger, steaming his skin.

“It wasn’t one defining moment, Crouch,” James admitted, “not like it was with Regulus. Regulus was like a candle being lit in the darkness of night, taunting me, beckoning me to come closer despite the knowledge that I might get burned, perhaps because of the knowledge that I might get burned.”

“Falling in love with Remus? Well, that was very easily done; I knew I was attracted to him very early on, but watching him fall in love with Sirius did me in. Not from any sort of jealousy of Sirius—mind you, but watching the way his eyes trailed over Sirius, hungrily, lovingly, watching the way he held him, petted him, longing to touch him more intimately, but refraining out of some foolish idea that Sirius couldn’t possibly be completely smitten with him. I found myself looking at Remus, touching him in the same ways, feeling the same things he did. It seems rather foolish now, looking back. But it was almost as if we were mirrors of each other pointed in different directions until he finally gathered the courage to face me and reflected my own light upon himself.”

“But Sirius,” James whispered, plucking a clover blossom from its bed. Barty could practically hear the “he loves me, he loves me not” repeated as he plucked the petals while he spoke, “Sirius snuck up on me. There was no sudden bright light that flashed before my eyes. No flip of a switch. It was like red embers in a dying fire, warming me when I was my most cold, most alone self. He sees me in a way that no one else could because he is, always has been, always will be an extension of myself. Regulus and Remus? They’re both so precious to me because, in many ways, we are similar. We’re all very playful, and while I give off the energy of a golden retriever, even I need time to rest , to recharge. Sirius, though—Sirius is me. And I am him. We share the same soul, the same energy, the same aura. We take turns cheering each other up when we’re sad, we celebrate each other's victories and mourn each other's losses, but more than that, I rarely ever feel like I have to put on a performance with him. It’s only lately that—well, he’s very protective of Regulus. And my feelings have only started growing since we started getting more intimately involved.”

“Knowing how possessive he is of his little brother, it was harder to navigate those unchartered waters, but I think we’re working on building a map together to get through it,” Potter chuckled like he had told some great joke that was lost on Barty. But the message wasn’t.

Lost in rose-colored thoughts, Barty would have missed the stars wink out of existence for a fraction of a second if it had not been for James shoving him with a knobby elbow.

Curly raven locks elongated into gently rolling waves, bright gleaming mercurial eyes dimmed and solidified into ashy rock. Crimson and clover were exchanged and draped on the opposite star.

Barty gaped and turned to James to see a mirror of his expression on the Gryffindor’s face.

“Merlin—” James said, “How long have they been doing that?”

Barty thought for a moment, searching through the rolodex of memories, trying to see what he missed, and found the first memory that didn’t quite match.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Barty grumbled.

“You knew.” James accused, and shock transformed into a frown, matching Barty’s face before he corrected himself, “Holy shit, you didn’t know, did you?”

“No,” Barty grumbled, “I didn’t.”

He prided himself on being observant and clever, but at the slightest bit of victory, he had been distracted, and he replayed the first night over in his head, realizing all of the obvious signs.

“Oh, this is gonna be so good,” James said as he stood to move but toppled almost on top of Barty as the younger boy tugged sharply at James’ wrist.

“Woah there, Prongsy-boy,” Barty said, watching the dimple in James’ left cheek smooth over as his smile fell, “They’re not the only ones playing a game here.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, settling himself more comfortably on the natural bed of greenery.

“Evan and Remus know.”

“How do you know?”

“For starters, the whispering yesterday?” Barty said, “They were scheming. And I’ll bet from the way the brothers were looking at them that they know they know. ”

“Okay…”

“So, while normally I would be bursting at the seams to catch them and let them know they’ve been caught, we weren’t the first to catch them.”

“So?”

“So, victory wouldn’t be ours.”

James hummed while both boys sat in silence, thinking of how to come out on top.

Suddenly, James’ face grew white, and he clutched Barty’s thigh with a deathly grip, “How long have they been doing this, do you think?”

“Since Sunday, at least?” Barty guessed.

James removed his hand, pressed his fingertips to his lips, and cursed.

“What’s wrong with you?” Barty asked, possibly too harshly, but he was agitated that he had lost whatever game the other four boys were playing.

“My first kiss—“ James stammered, “My first kiss with Sirius was with Regulus.”

Barty fell to the ground, clutching at his sides, squealing with laughter that reverberated beneath the blanket.

“It’s not funny, Crouch,” James pouted, making Barty guffaw, practically choking on the noise as he continued to find it extremely funny.

“You know,” James said between Barty’s fits, a devilish smile on his face, “there’s a good chance that if I kissed Regulus thinking it was Sirius, then you kissed Sirius thinking it was Regulus.”

The laughter stopped almost immediately, and Barty thought back to the kiss he had shared with the unknown black brother, remembering the animalistic nature of it, the raw feeling of nothingness, and everything all at once. The way the boy he kissed let Barty bleed him. He should have known Regulus would never allow such a kiss, not from Barty. Their friendship wasn’t like that, and though they flirted with it, there was no way he would have shared a kiss like that and walked away with no feelings attached.

James seemed to be thinking of something entirely different, but they came to the same conclusion, and they both announced with hearty grins, “Definitely Sirius.”

“So what do we do now?” James asked, “We just sit and wait for them to come clean?”

“No use, I’m afraid,” Barty said defeatedly, “they’ve already won. All four of them.”

The silence between them settled and festered, and suddenly Barty was struck with an idea that split his lips into a maniacal grin.

“You know, to celebrate their victory, we should throw them a party?”

“A party?” James’ brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes, Potter, a social gathering where one mingles over foods and beverages.”

“What kind of party?”

Madness slipped through the creases of Barty’s face, giving the lines around his eyes and his mouth a wild definition. He leaned close and whispered against James’ ear, “ A tea party. ”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Regulus paced the door of the hospital wing. Sirius and he had already made their daily transformation, and he was adorned in crimson. He did his best to channel it to face the wolf that lay beyond the door.

The door opened, and Peter stepped out, shock written on his face. He was not expecting to be met by anyone on the other side.

“How is he?” Regulus asked, biting his lip.

“He’s fine, Padfoot, just the normal aches and pains,” Peter diagnosed, and Regulus straightened at the moniker, dropping the bottom lip he had been gnawing on.

“Right,” Regulus said, “Did you tell him?”

“No,” Peter said, “Your brother said he would.”

“Right.”

“Right…I’m gonna—” Peter gestured past Regulus, who was blocking the mousey boy’s path.

Regulus nervously stepped aside. “Oh, right, yes, of course. Catch you later, Wormtail.”

Regulus’ heart was beating in his ear, but he could hear the faint muttering of his brother’s friend as he said, “These black brothers are going to kill me.”

Regulus was sure he didn’t know what Peter meant by that, but there was an open door before him. He just had to walk through it.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right. No—fuck.

Regulus stumbled and just barely caught himself.

Unfortunately, Remus witnessed the whole interaction, but he didn’t laugh or poke fun. His soft caramel eyes had lost all their amber with the already waning moon, and he looked at him with concern.

“You alright?”

“Yeah—‘m fine,” Regulus said shyly, “How are you?”

“No worse than usual. You know how it is, Pads.” Remus said as he waved Regulus over.

Regulus didn’t know how it was, not this part, at any rate. He had participated in one full moon back in September, but he kept his distance despite longing to be there for his friend.

Dora was the only one brave enough to go out that night into the clearing. The three boys just sat and watched from the tree line, observing the playful nature of the four animals.

“Yeah, right,” Regulus said, “Of course.”

“Pads are you—” Remus stopped speaking, stopped moving, stopped breathing. And Regulus instantly knew why.

Regulus stepped forward to sit on the bed, and Remus flinched back. The heart within his cage, draped in the flesh of his brother, ached at the rejection, but he proceeded to sit on the bed. Hunched over in a posture that Walburga would surely scold him for, but she wasn’t there. No matter how loud her voice rang in his ears, she wasn’t actually there.

“Remus, there’s something I need to tell you about,” Regulus hedged, and he watched as those beautiful, earthy eyes widened with fright.

“I—oh god—I did something—” Remus clutched his side as he began to work himself into a frenzy, hyperventilating.

“No!” Regulus exclaimed as he grasped a scarred hand, “No, not—no— you didn’t do something.”

The younger boy drew small soothing circles into Remus’ palm, trying to soothe him.

“Just know that—“ Regulus began, “any secrecy was made with nothing but love and concern for you.”

Ashy eyes could practically see the injured boy drowning in scenarios, and he did his best to quell the rising tide.

“My brother,” Regulus began, “he and his friends know.”

“They know, ” Remus repeated accusingly.

Regulus gulped as he continued, “About your moonlight job.”

Admittedly, it was not a time for jokes, but he had hoped it would bring a smile to Remus’ face. It didn’t.

“Who, exactly, knows?”

“Regulus, Crouch, Rosier, Pandora.” Regulus listed.

“How do they know?”

“Well, you see, Crouch really is too clever for his own good. And when he is presented with a riddle, he becomes fixated until he can solve it.” Regulus admitted, “So apparently, back in third year—”

“Third year?!” Remus choked and began to hyperventilate again.

“Yes, third year, Barty discovered Moony’s secret, and I swear he didn’t tell anyone—Evan and—my brother—they put two and two together when Barty became hyper-fixated and then suddenly stopped.”

“And Pandora?” Remus breathed out.

“Well—” Regulus smirked, “You know Pandora.”

“Great. That’s just—” Remus gritted out, “great.”

Remus looked at Regulus and narrowed his eyes, “there’s more, isn’t there?”

Regulus nodded his head and whispered, “Peter found out at the end of last year. That they knew, I mean.”

All expression on Remus’ face was lost, and Regulus couldn’t read him.

“He didn’t mean any harm; in fact, he was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me.” Remus scoffed.

“Yes, Remus, protect you,” Regulus said boldly, “He knows Moony better than they do.”

“He should have told me!” Remus roared.

“And what good would that have done?” Regulus yelled back, “You would have been stressed, Moony would have taken it out on you, and you would have been torn to pieces.”

“So why are you telling me now?” Remus growled.

Regulus’ face softened, and Remus clocked the apologetic frown.

“You’ve got to be joking. What more could there possibly be?” Remus snarled.

“Well,” Regulus mumbled, “they sort of becameanimagi.”

“What?”

“They became animagi,” Regulus said clearly, “for Moony. Crouch had read about it in a journal and backed it up with text, and they—they didn’t know we had done the same, and they didn’t want Moony to be lonely, so they—they became animagni for you.”

“And whose idea was that?” Remus snapped, clearly not pleased by the revelation.

“Regulus’” Regulus sniffed. His eyes welled up at the displeasure on Remus’ face, and he knew he had fucked up, “he was rather adamant about it after reading one of the journals Barty had found about how once the author had a mate to play with during the full he had stopped hurting himself as much and felt more confident because his friend told him everything that happened when his wolf took over and they just—”

Regulus tucked his knees into himself on the bed and wrapped his arms around his shin, drying the tears on his trousers.

“They didn’t mean anything by it, Remus, I swear. Peter even told them it was a bad idea when he first found out, but by that time, they were already animagi.”

“The white rabbit,” Remus whispered, likely recalling the tales of the September moon.

“Pandora,” Regulus confirmed.

“They only mentioned the rabbit; what about the rest of you?” Remus asked more curiously than angrily, though there was a nip to his tone.

“They were there, in the tree line; we didn’t see them,” Regulus confessed.

“Because you were scared,” Remus stated like it was a fact.

“Because Peter advised against it, and we didn’t want to overwhelm Moony,” Regulus corrected.

“So what happened that made you tell me all this?” Remus asked, fear saturating his voice.

“They were there,” Regulus said, “last night. All of them. In the clearing.”

Regulus could practically hear Remus’ heart stop.

“They—they were there?” Remus whispered, “They saw Moony? Up close?”

“Crouch and Rosier didn’t get super close to him, but Moony was a bit too distracted to care.” Regulus smiled shyly.

“What happened?” Remus whispered breathlessly as Remus’ nails began to claw at his arm, leaving angry red marks in their wake.

Regulus saw crimson bubbling against the surface, begging to be let out, and drew upon it, channeling it as he untucked himself and slowly climbed on top of the frightened boy, caging Remus with his thighs.

Fear racked Remus as he began to back away and shake violently. Warm brown eyes dampened and threatened to flood and spill over, but Regulus paid them no mind as he wrapped his hands around Remus’ wrists and guided them to his hips.

Once secure, he trailed his palms up the strong, aching arms past Remus’ shoulders, settling at the base of his jaw as Regulus cupped his friend’s face.

“Moony was so gentle, Remus. I wish you could have seen him. He picked up Regulus by the scruff of his neck with his teeth, placed him in his arms, and bathed him in love. They cuddled through most of the morning, and later, Prongs and I joined. We were perfect together.”

Remus stared up at Regulus with unshed tears rife with disbelief and uncertainty.

Unwilling to accept the truth that passed from Regulus’ lips, Regulus forced it down his throat with a sweet and tender kiss, giving Remus every bit of the gentility he had received from Moony. Only then did the doubt leave the boy's eyes, spilling like salty rain onto his mauve-painted cheeks.

“What were—was he?” Remus asked as their lips parted, still connected by their foreheads and their mingling breaths.

“A black cat,” Regulus answered.

Remus smirked and asked, “A cat or a kitten?”

“A cat.” Regulus huffed.

“Hmmm,” Remus replied. “I don’t know, he’s so small—”

“We're the same height, Lupin,” Regulus growled as he tugged at the hair that had found its way into his hand.

“Besides, I’m an obnoxiously large dog. Is it so impossible to believe Regulus could be an obnoxiously large cat?”

“Yes,” Remus teased as he nipped at Regulus’ bottom lip.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

Both boys stilled at the claim–the truth–before Regulus softened and melted in the boy's arms. He couldn’t admit it, not while he was wearing his brother's face, but as he felt the warm, gentle arms of his friend wrap around him, he knew Remus understood.

Regulus broke the silence between them as he whispered into the warm, inviting neck, “I gave them names, you know.”

A rich barking laugh vibrated against Regulus’ chest, “Did you now?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Go on, tell me what ridiculousness you’ve thrust upon them.”

“Well, Crouch is a fox, and his name is Foxy. Pandora is a rabbit, Lucky. But Rosier” Regulus pulled back so he could fully witness Remus’ reaction, “—Rosier is a hare named Bunbun.”

Remus’ eyes crinkled, and the pair erupted into a fit of childish giggles.

“Oh, Merlin, Evan is going to kill you.” Realization dawned on Remus, and his eyes grew wide as he struggled to breathe out the words in between his laughter, “Oh God—the—the ears—oh, he’s going to destroy you.”

Regulus smiled wildly and victoriously as if he had created the name himself, but his smile faltered when Remus asked, “What did you name Regulus.”

“Beelzebub.” Regulus deadpanned, still annoyed that his brother would name him after a demon.

“Oh,” Remus smirked, pulling Regulus in as the youngest black brother desperately fought the urge to pout, “That is too fitting.”

“You think?” Regulus asked, shocked that Remus would agree.

“I know.” Remus declared as he kissed Regulus and whispered against his lips, “He’s an insatiable little thing.”

“We’re the same size, Lupin,” Regulus muttered, though the venom was extracted from his tongue with every subsequent peck.

“Will I get to see him?”

“Regulus?” Regulus asked, confused.

“Beelzebub.” Remus clarified with a smirk.

“I—if you want to?” Regulus said uncertainly, “I mean, you’ll have to ask Regulus, of course—”

“Of course,” Remus grinned knowingly, and Regulus wanted to kiss the look off his ridiculously beautiful face.

“I’ll have to ask him next time I see him.”

Chapter Text

Recovery was a bitch. Remus clung to James as he walked up the stairs, simultaneously hating the way he needed to lean on his friend and finding comfort in the knowledge that he had a friend to help him with the worst parts of his condition.

Regulus’ words from the hospital rang in his ears as the pair climbed in silence. Peter should have told him. Remus should have been made aware that his dark secret had expanded past his three friends, but Regulus was right. Remus would have worried—and it would have made Moony more irritable, ultimately hurting Remus. Still, he needed the full story from Peter. So as soon as they reached the common room, which was brimming with serpents and lions—and the odd rabbit—Remus caught his mousy friend’s eyes and jutted his chin toward the dorms.

James deposited Remus on the edge of the bed and cringed as Remus’ knees cracked, then helped tug his shoes and trousers off before fetching the tin of ointment to help with the aches from the waning moon.

Unscrewing the cap, Remus stopped James before he could apply the cream and whispered, “I need to talk to Pete.”

James’ ivory teeth gnawed at the plump bottom lip trapped between them, and he offered a gentle word, “He was worried about you, Remus. I don’t think—”

“I know, James, but we need to talk.” Remus assured, looking toward the door as Peter emerged from the other side.

James nodded and walked toward the other marauder, handing him the tin before closing the door behind him, and Remus watched as Peter stared at the offering—hesitating as if he hadn’t applied it to Remus a dozen times before.

There was a tension in the room that had never been between the two friends, and Remus hated it. Peter had always been a source of love and light—not in the same way James and Sirius were, but no less powerful—no less bright. However, as he remained by the door, waiting for permission to approach, Peter looked gray and green—sickly—nauseous, as if this was the end of something wonderful.

Remus sighed, waving Peter over toward him, and a hope flickered in his dark brown eyes before whatever ominous thoughts rattled around the boy's mind snuffed it out.

Reaching behind him, Remus grabbed a pillow and tossed it on the floor beneath him, and Peter knelt down before him, wordlessly dipping his fingers into the ointment and gently rubbing it into the aching joints of Remus’ knees as he had done for many moons.

Minty cool relief sank into Remus’ skin, and the swelling pressure deflated as Peter’s healing hands massaged the sore areas.

“Go on, then,” Remus said, “Tell us how it happened.”

“They knew before,” Peter began. “I swear I didn’t tell them; I wouldn’t do that to you, Remus.”

“But you confirmed it,” Remus said.

Shame prickled at the corner of Peter’s eyes as he tried to explain with a tight voice, “They had become animagi—they were obstinate and foolish, and they wanted to be with Moony, make him feel better—make you feel better. I knew you wouldn’t like it. And so, yeah. I told them. Tried to keep them from doing something stupid.”

“Like you three?” Remus smirked, recalling a similar conversation only a few years prior.

Peter snorted, “Yeah—but they’re stubborn; Regulus in particular was stubborn.”

“Can’t imagine where he gets that from.” Remus chuckled, and some of the tension ebbed away as Peter grinned up at him, shimmering like minerals in rich dark soil.

“Why didn’t you tell me they knew—or hell, why didn’t you tell Sirius or James?” Remus asked.

“Sirius would have told James. James would have told you. And Remus—I was so worried you would be worried that it would have worked up Moony. I didn’t want to see you hurt.” Peter answered, “I knew they wouldn’t tell anyone else—I trust them, and I know you trust them. I—I should have told you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t. That you found out this way.”

“I should be mad—should be furious that you kept this from me.” Remus admitted, “But I can’t say that you were wrong. But as usual, you were annoyingly right. I would have been worried—I still am despite Regulus’ assurances that Moony was sweet with him.”

“Sickeningly sweet,” Peter grinned. “He’s so tiny, and Moony was so careful with him.”

“So I’ve heard,” Remus smirked.

“Truth be told, they did heed my warnings, in their own way. Pandora was elected as the only one who could join you for the longest time. Last night—this morning—was the first time the others tagged along.” Peter admitted.

“I had wondered.” Remus admitted as Peter sealed the tin and stood.

“Are we okay, Remus?” Peter whispered, unable to look Remus in the eye as he fiddled with the label on the canister.

“Yeah, Pete. We’re okay.” Remus said, “But no more bloody secrets.”

Peter bit his lip and hesitated before revealing, “In that case I think you should know—Sirius and Regulus—”

“You know?” Remus asked, shuffling back into the bed, patting the sheets for Peter to join him.

“You know?” Peter echoed, climbing across the duvet and resting his head in his hand—his hinged elbow resting on a fluffy red pillow.

Remus chuckled, “They picked a poor time for their prank. Moony was just beneath the surface, making it easier to unravel their plot.”

“Not one of his more brilliant ideas,” Peter said, a comfortable smile on his face.

“I don’t know—the way things have turned out, I think it might be his most brilliant plot yet—”

“Yeah, well, he’s pranking himself more than he’s pranking any of us.” Peter sighed, “And he needs to get his shit together, or he’ll wind up hurting James in an irreparable way.”

“I have faith in them. They’ll figure it out.” Remus said tiredly, closing his eyes. “Now Crouch and Rosier, on the other hand…”

“Yes, well, I have a plan for that.” Peter grinned.

“Do you now?” Remus asked, peeking through one eye at his fellow mischief-maker, “Well, go on then, piss off and play matchmaker. I need some sleep.”

“Want any company?” Peter asked, shuffling out of the bed.

“Hmm, go fetch Sirius for me.” Remus mumbled.

“Which one?” Peter asked with an audible grin.

“Let them decide,” Remus smiled softly.

♠♢♣♡

Barty couldn’t stop looking at the brooding hare across from him. His ears had resumed their normal fleshy texture and small appearance, but his expression resembled that of one who had a lemon clamped between their teeth—sour and uncomfortable—and it took no large number of guesses to realize the source of his ire.

James’ arm was draped over Barty’s shoulder, his fingers fiddling with Barty’s exposed collar bone.

“Since when did you two become so chummy?” Regulus asked, haughtiness masking the vicious teeth that aimed to sink deep into the thin flesh James was caressing. Ahh. Sirius. Barty surmised. He had to admit, Sirius was quite good at imitating his brother when he wasn’t blinded by jealousy.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, Black?”

Sirius began to answer, schooling his stolen voice, but Peter walked through the threshold toward the group and called for Sirius.

Raven curls whipped against high, pale cheekbones as Sirius whipped his head around but flicked back to his doppelgänger as Peter’s eyes roamed over him toward his imposter.

“Yeah, wormy?” Regulus drawled smoothly, flicking through the magazine in his hand.

“Moony wants you.” Peter said, plopping down on the floor in front of the long coffee table, his back toward the fire next to Lily, whispering in her ear. Whatever he had said to her had the fiery red-head beaming and she gracefully removed herself from the floor and walked toward her dorms.

Sharp ivory teeth bit at a plump bottom lip as the real Sirius resisted the urge to go to his friend.

Regulus tossed the magazine toward Evan and stretched as he stood, assessing his pouting brother with a grin.

“How’s he doing, Pete?” Regulus asked, real concern filtering through the carefully curated voice.

“No worse than any other moon,” Peter shrugged. “Could use a little extra love—but he’s tender, so be careful.”

“Extra love, huh?” Regulus asked, walking around the couch toward his brother. 

Regulus ruffled the curly tendrils on Sirius’ head, earning a slap and a scowl as he mumbled, “Piss off.”

Leaning down—Sirius’ devilish smile slithering across his face—Regulus whispered something in Sirius’ ear—likely an invitation, and a rare, treasured smile erupted across a previously irate face.

“They’re not as subtle as they think they are,” James whispered in Barty’s ear as the brothers walked off toward the dorms.

“They’re really not,” Barty grumbled, cursing himself for having not spotted the obvious sooner.

“All right, you lot,” Lily announced, returning with a pack of playing cards that she tossed onto the table. “I’m bored, and I want to see some blood.”

Barty perked up instantly, “Evans’s after my heart tonight.”

“Is he?” Marlene asked as she walked in, plopping down beside James and staring at Evan, “About fucking time.”

“What?” Evan asked, blinking slowly.

“You’re finally going after Crouch.” Marlene repeated, waggling her eyebrows.

“I am not going after anyone.” Evan said slowly, “Evans’s going after him.”

“Evans, you like Crouch?” Marlene asked, shock painted on her face.

“No, Evan’s the one who likes Crouch.” Lily stated.

“So, you are going after him.” Marlene said.

“Who is going after whom?” Mary asked, taking the seat the faux Regulus had previously occupied.

“No one is going after anyone.” Evan gritted, flesh blooming with untamed roses that spread across his neck, cheeks, and the bridge of his nose like wildfire.

“Sure, you are,” Lily said simply. “Like I said, I’m bored, and I want blood.”

“What did you have in mind?” Barty asked.

“A game of chance.” Lily winked.

“I’m game,” Barty said, sinking to the floor and unpacking the cards from their boxes waiting for the lion to join him.

“Oh, not with me.” Lily said, fiddling with Pandora’s hair as she sat on the couch diagonal from James’ and Barty’s sofa.

“Who then?” Barty asked.

“We’ll let the fates decide,” Lily said ominously as she pulled out her wand, shuffling the two decks in midair and distributing a card to each of the members in the room.

“Aces are high, and the high card wins.” Lily announced, placing her two of clubs on the table.

Five cards joined hers: a six of hearts from Pandora, a spade jack from Mary, a diamond eight from Marlene, a clubbed ten from Peter, a king of hearts from James—

“You would get a king of hearts, wouldn’t you, James?” Evans flirted aimlessly, and James smirked as Evan scoffed.

“Well, come on then, Rosier, let’s see you do better.” James egged, leaning back as if he had already happily lost.

Evan hadn’t bothered to look down at his card and placed it upright, revealing an ace of spades, and though the card was black, all Barty saw was a heart with a dagger burried to the hilt, shimmering red in the firelight.

“Looks like you’re the winner, Rosier.” James winked.

“Not yet, he’s not.” Lily denied, collecting the cards with her wand and reshuffling them in the air as she spelled out the rules: “The game is wizards' battle. Each of you will be dealt a deck, and you will keep it face down. It’s a fast-paced game of chance; you will each turn one card over: aces are high, and the high card wins. Suits don’t matter unless you’re tied for aces and one of those is the ace of spades. If you tie for a round, you go to battle. You will place three cards face down, and the fourth card will be the tiebreaker, which will be placed face up. The object of the game is to collect all the cards. Questions?”

“What makes it magical?” Mary asked.

“The cards bite the loser of every round.” Lily warned.

“That’s vicious,” James praised.

“I know,” Lily said, “I told you I want blood.”

Evan knelt down across from Barty, white pale flesh back to its colorless pallor, and something about the stakes elicited a violent urge to paint his rose red.

“Ready to lose, Rosier?” Barty challenged.

“In your dreams, Crouch.” Evan said, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I assure you, I’m very much awake,” Barty whispered, packing the cards Lily had dealt into his hand, “Question is—are you?”

Before Evan had a chance to ponder on the question, Lily sat on her throne with bloodthirsty eyes and waved her hand, drawling, “You may begin.”

Both boys drew their cards quickly, and Barty yelped as the seven of hearts bit his index finger. Before they continued, Barty stared as a drop of crimson spilled onto the cards, painting the heart, which seemed to beat against the paper, fueled by the first taste of victory.

“That looks like it hurt,” Evan smirked. “Maybe you should have James kiss it better.”

Barty scowled, but unexpectedly, he felt his hand be pulled toward the side of his face, and he turned his head to see James wrap his lips around Barty’s wounded finger, sucking away the sting as he gave challenging eyes to Evan and releasing the digit with a wicked grin.

When Barty turned back toward his opponent, Evan’s cheeks were boiling, and his gaze was hard fixed on the Gryffindor behind Barty.

“I did warn you both,” Lily reminded them. “Remember—fast-paced.”

The pair battled, sevens and jacks, threes and fours, aces and fives, Barty continued to get bitten by the ruthless cards, but judging by the weight of the deck in his hand and the state of Evan’s hands, he was winning. Evan was down to his last five cards and continued to lose with each flip of fate until finally he released his final card with a tattered and bloodied hand, revealing an ace of hearts.

Slowly, dramatically, Barty set down the top card of his deck, and the card that had offered Evan the winning seat sank its teeth into the webbing between Evan’s thumb and index finger.

Lily waved her wand, calling all the cards back into her hand, including the carnivorous card attached to Evan, and sighed triumphantly, “Well, that was delightful. Thank you, gentlemen, for indulging me.”

The bell outside tolled, and Barty looked toward his defeated partner, who scowled at the vanishing vixen.

“Come on, Rosier,” Barty called, “better get back before Filch catches us.”

♠♢♣♡

Evan’s hand was throbbing along with his mind as the pair entered their empty dorm. The walk had been silent, and for Evan’s part, he hadn’t been in the mood to talk after having lost so poorly—though he had expected Barty to gloat.

But even now, as Barty washed his hands and nicked Regulus’ stash of healing creams, applying them liberally to the small gashes on his hand, Barty remained peculiarly quiet.

Evan inspected the scarlet-stained hand, marveling at the way the blood dripped from it onto the hard stone floor of their room.

“You gonna let me take care of you, or are you just gonna bleed to death?” Barty asked, from his perch against the door of the bathroom.

“What are you going to do? Kiss it better?” Evan mocked, anger rekindling as he recalled the way James had siphoned Barty’s blood with a warm, wet tongue.

A rather odd look flickered across Barty’s face; one he had only seen in passing and never directed toward him—certainly not by Barty anyhow. The blood flow stopped, and rather than spill from his hand, rushed toward his face as Barty stalked slowly across the room, tossing the balm onto the bed as he gently stole the crimson-painted hand, examining the damage, lifting it closer to his eyes—his mouth, which Evan’s sights were set on, unmoving even as Barty purred, “Would you like me to?”

Evan froze—frightened by the unexpected rush that pulled just under his navel. His opponent seemed to take his parted silent lips and wide eyes as a yes and slowly lifted Evan’s fingers toward his thin mauve lips, giving Evan ample opportunity to pull back. But Evan was captivated by curiosity and allowed himself to tumble down the rabbit’s hole—or rather the fox’s hole.

Barty kissed each of Evan’s fingers and sanguine gloss coated his lips as his vibrant green eyes burrowed hungry holes into Evan's, drawing the boy deeper and deeper into his den.

The room was suddenly stiflingly hot, and sweat pooled at Evan’s temples, dripping down the side of his face toward his jaw as Barty lowered his eyes toward the final gnarly bite.

The boy wrapped his lips gently around the teeth marks, licking at the edges of his Mount of Venus and along the corners of his life and fate lines.

Unable to control himself, Evan leaned in, watching with avid attention, mesmerized by the way Barty sucked at the pocket of his hand, and all too soon, Barty’s lips pulled back, and he pecked Evan’s thumb with a final kiss.

“Go on and wash your hands, Evan,” Barty purred, and Evan nodded dumbly, stumbling off toward the loo.

“Oh, and Evan?” Barty called over his shoulder.

Evan turned on his heel, stuck in a haze, nearly missing the canister tossed toward him.

“Be sure to cover your marks with the cream.” Barty advised, raking his eyes over Evan, stopping just below his belt for two heartbeats before ducking between the beds and closing his curtains.

Evan stared into the empty space for a moment before returning to himself and resuming his task of caring for his wounds.

His hands stung as he lathered the soap onto his hands, and his thoughts wandered to how much more pleasant the feel of Barty’s tongue was in comparison. Drying his hands, Evan had peered down to find his cock heavy and throbbing in time with his hand, and while the sensation wasn’t by any means new, the origin certainly was.

The night replayed like a fast-forwarded movie in his mind, resuming a natural speed during key moments.

James’ overly affectionate hands draped over his new friend, Evan’s oldest friend. He tried to reconcile why he hadn’t seemed bothered when a Regulus-masked Sirius had kissed and ground into Barty when he was so clearly agitated by James returning Barty’s kiss at the breakfast table. There was something about James and Barty. The way they fit together. Sirius was a feral thing, much like Barty—wild and untamed. But James was domesticated—freely offering love to anyone and everyone—and while Evan had never been bothered by any of Barty’s conquests, part of him knew there wasn’t any chance for romance between his friend and his friend’s partners—but James—James could threaten that status quo, and for the life of Evan, he couldn’t figure out why that bothered him so much. 

He continued rushing through the night, pausing at the miscommunication. Marlene seemed so sure that Evan was harboring some sort of romantic feelings for Barty—but that was nonsense. They were friends, foes, comrades, enemies. They teetered on the line between the two and found a middle ground based on mutual respect and annoyance. But neither of them was after the other, despite whatever incorrect conclusions Marlene had come to; besides, she hardly knew them. She wasn’t a proper judge of their relationship.

Even Evans had seemed to allude to some sort of hidden romance between the two, and sure, Evan liked Barty, but he didn’t like Barty. Not in the way they were implying.

His fury returned as James had gained the high ground once again, trumping with a king of hearts. Evan scoffed at the memory, King of Hearts, indeed. But as his own card had revealed itself to be the winning card, Evan recalled the excitement that powered through him, despite the stoic expression he hoped he had maintained.

Evan’s mind paused on Barty’s taunting statement: Oh, I assure you, I am very much awake. Question is: are you?

Barty had always enjoyed his riddles, and usually Evan was evenly matched, but this one left him at a loss. As he stared down at his own arousal and flipped through the scene of the game in his mind—Barty’s eyes fixed on his pained expressions, the voraciousness of his greedy green eyes as the cards nipped and bit at his red right hand, the tenderness with which he kissed away the blood and replaced sharp stings with electric burns, sucking at the blood that pooled in the curved web of his hand—he noticed his cock twitch and leak against the fabric of his trousers.

Evan’s head shot up, and wide, lapis blue eyes pierced the haze of the past six years as he stared at his reflection through the looking glass, rewinding through the bickering between each other, the conspiring against friends and foes, the challenges against each other, the jealousy of James Potter, and suddenly Evan was wide awake and totally fucked.

Chapter Text

Remus’ eyes flickered open as the scent of cinnamon and cedarwood wafted toward his nose. A mop of curly hair was tickling his neck while long black waves crashed against his chest. In the corner of his eye, James was already up and dressed, watching the three of them from the window nook.

“Didn’t want to join us, Prongs?” Remus asked curiously as the rising sun filtered through the glass, illuminating the red highlights of James’ dark brown hair.

“Wasn’t sure if Sirius would want me to,” James admitted with a sad smile. “Besides, the view from here is quite lovely as it is.”

Remus’ eyes rolled in the back of his head as he cursed the currently curly-haired boy. They needed to have it out, and Remus was half tempted to shove them into a broom closet until they gathered their senses.

Three sharp raps rang out against the wooden door of the marauders’ dorm, and James and Remus shared a curious look as to who could be on the other side this early on a Friday morning.

When no one made a move or invited the unexpected visitor in, the quick knocks became urgent bangs, and James quickly rose, crossing the room and opening the door to see Evan Rosier striding past him and toward the wolf. Though his appearance was flawless, blonde hair brushed to the side, an emerald tie neatly wrapped around his neck, and a white button-down shirt crisp and tucked into its proper place, Evan’s demeanor lacked the normal devil-may-care confidence that always left Remus feeling as if he were three steps behind.

“We need to talk.” Evan said, pausing as he noticed Remus’ state, “It’s 6:00. Why aren’t you up yet?”

“I am up,” Remus said.

“No, you’re not; you're still in bed.” Evan challenged.

“I’m awake?” Remus argued.

“Awake and up are not the same. I need you up. Out of bed. Away from,” Evan gestured toward the pile of sleeping bodies atop of Remus, “that.”

“Part of that is your friend.” Remus scoffed.

“Not today.”

“What do you mean, ‘not today’? What did he do?” Remus asked, shifting his eyes toward James, who was just as clueless and intrigued as he.

“He lied to me.” Evan said simply.

“About?”

“That’s sensitive information.” Evan straightened, avoiding James’ curious glare, “I’m not even sure you are my friend today, but I’ll take my chances as I need someone to talk to.”

“How did I lie to you?” Remus asked, carefully sliding out of bed to not disturb the peacefully unaware brothers.

“I’m not certain you have,” Evan squinted, assessing Remus as if the evidence lay plain on his face, “but Regulus has definitely withheld vital information.”

“Is this about them being—” James began and stopped short as Evan’s head snapped toward him.

“It has nothing to do with them. And everything to do with—” Evan paused, raking his eyes over James, searching for—

Suddenly Evan barked a mad sort of laughter, running his hand through his hair—ruining the perfect impression—slamming James against the closed door, hands grasping at the collar of his shirt.

“This whole time—the whole time— you were fucking with me.” Evan gritted, his face impossibly close to James’ and a phantom hand tugged at the chain above Remus’ head, igniting the invisible light bulb.

James’ wide doe eyes shifted to Remus, and the wolfish boy mouthed the name that clearly vexed Evan to madness.

Evan clutched James’ chin, turning it back to face him as he slotted a knee between James’ thighs, pinning him against the wooden door.

“Last night, when you were teasing Barty’s skin with your fingers, licking his wounds,” Evan breathed against James’ lips, “tasting him—you were fucking with me, weren’t you?”

“Was that not obvious?” James asked earnestly, a sheepish smile on his face.

“No.” Evan bit, “What about yesterday morning? At the breakfast table.”

“I—no.” James admitted, blushing, “Barty is just one helluva kisser.”

“I should cut off your tongue and feed it to your dog.” Evan hissed.

“Let’s not do that,” Remus suggested. “I have plans for that tongue.”

“Does Barty know that you were fucking with him?” Evan asked, “Or have you captured yet another heart?”

“That’s a question for your boyfriend,” James whispered, suddenly hypnotized by Evan’s tongue as it darted out, licking the bottom lip beneath it.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Evan said quietly.

“Well, you’re certainly doing a wonderful impression of a jealous partner.” James smirked.

Evan seemed to be pondering as he closed the minimal gap between James’ body and his own, his pale, slender hand slinking down to wrap around James’ throat.

“You want to know, don’t you?” James asked, “You could just go downstairs—taste the source rather than leftovers.”

“He likes you—everyone bloody likes you. ” Evan seethed.

“He likes me,” James admitted, “but in the same way he likes Reg or Remus. We’re just friends, I promise.”

Evan’s other hand detached from the collar, finding purchase in James’ chin, his thumb sliding over James’ lips before making the choice to crash against them, tasting the scraps of Barty that were surely long gone by now.

James’ hands clutched at the fabric at Evan’s side, pulling the wayward boy closer as he rolled his hips, grinding his clothes cock against the thigh that pinned him.

Remus pulled his eyes away as the pair of stars in the bed gasped in tandem at the indulgent display, and Remus lifted a finger to his lips, silencing the boys to not disturb whatever spell had been cast over James and Evan.

Out of air, Evan and James panted as they pulled their lips apart, breathing each other in as their foreheads touched and their noses brushed together.

“Kiss him like that, and he’ll be yours forever,” James groaned, rolling his hips once more for a tease at relief, which did more harm than good.

“Yeah?” Evan asked, grinning, “Does that mean you’ll be mine forever?”

James chuckled, “I’m not the one you want, Rosier, and I’ve got my hands more than full.”

Remus’ expression was amused as Evan looked over his shoulder toward him, and suddenly the confidence he had gained back from taunting James had dwindled as he was reminded of his purpose for coming.

“You ready?” Evan asked.

“Give me a minute to get dressed, and I’ll be down.” Remus promised.

Evan nodded and peered toward the two familiar faces in Remus’ bed. A rueful grin stretched across his face as he turned back to the door, and with a gentle peck to James’ cheek, he whispered loud enough for the others to hear, “Thanks for the kiss, Jamie.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

James was caught in a rose-tinted daze as he came back to himself, only gathering bits and pieces of the conversation around him. Remus was mostly talking to the brothers anyhow, but when the other man called his name, he snapped back to the present.

“You two need to talk.” Remus said, “Before the day is done.”

James looked over toward the bed, and Sirius? nodded in agreement, though Regulus’ blushed, and James was nearly certain they were not themselves, especially after Remus tacked on, “But first you should go pay a visit to Barty while I go deal with his other half.”

James had a burning question for Sirius, though with the full moon and the revelation of the brothers' playful deception, he hadn’t found the time, but he gathered it could wait a while longer as he walked through the door, past a patient rose, out of the common room, and down toward the dungeons to wake a sleeping knave.

What he had not expected to find was an already roused and aroused Barty fisting his cock to the thoughts of bloody roses and golden hair. Still, Barty hadn’t noticed him as he walked in, too caught up in his fantasy and his own moans to hear the door open and close. His eyes were screwed shut, mouth parted, and James waited—watched from the corner of the four-poster bed with amusement and perhaps a pinch of lust as Barty neared the edge, and just as Barty was about to push himself over, he cleared his throat, announcing his arrival.

Barty’s eyes shot open, spilling ruined pleasure over his knuckles, then he hastily grabbed a pillow to cover himself.

“Fucking voyeur, how long have you been standing there?” Barty hissed.

“Long enough to hear the, oh, Evan , right there, just like that, Evan. ” James mocked.

“I didn’t say that.” Barty scowled.

“Your thoughts are very loud, Crouch.” James winked.

“Why are you here?” Barty asked, throwing a spare pillow, which James caught one-handed.

“We have a party to plan, no?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“I like him,” Evan declared, pacing back and forth on the sandy shore of the lake. There was something about the verbal confession that both relaxed him and made him feel like he was about to vomit. Saying it out loud to another person made it real—almost tangible—and he felt the words leave his lips, letters clinging together, slithering down his chin and wrapping around his throat like a noose.

“James?” Remus asked from his perch on the large rock.

“What—no.” Evan squinted as he clarified slowly as if it was obvious—it certainly seemed to be obvious to everyone but Evan. “Barty.”

“Oh.” Remus said, nonplussed.

“You don’t sound surprised.” Evan noted, “Why don’t you sound surprised?”

“Was it supposed to be a secret?” Remus asked.

“Well, I certainly didn’t know.” Evan yelled, kicking at the small rocks beneath his feet.

“And now you do.” Remus surmised, “So what are you going to do about it?”

What was he going to do about it? Evan wasn’t even certain that Barty felt the same way. He had certainly never displayed any hint he had wanted more from their relationship. Had he?

“This is so inconvenient.” Evan mourned.

“Is it?”

“Yes.” Evan declared, “Yesterday everything was normal. Everything was fine. We were just friends.”

“You were never just friends, Evan.” Remus claimed, “You two have been dancing around each other since fourth year. The difference is, now you know.”

“I want to un-know.” Evan pouted.

“That’s the tricky thing with knowledge,” Remus said. “Once you know, there’s no unknowing—there’s no going back.”

“You could obliviate me.” Evan countered.

“Well, I guess there is that.” Remus pondered. Standing from his rocky seat, Remus pulled the cypress wand from his pocket and aimed it at Evan’s left temple. Evan slapped the wand away and narrowed his eyes toward the other boy.

“I don’t trust that you won’t leave me a blubbering mess.” Evan said.

“You already are a blubbering mess,” Remus teased.

“What am I gonna do?”

“Snog him.”

“Unhelpful.”

“He likes you, too, you know.” Remus offered.

“He told you that?” Evan blinked.

“He didn’t have to. It’s every bit as obvious as your adoration for him.” Remus smiled, “Honestly, the pair of you are insufferable.”

“As insufferable as James and Sirius?” Evan asked.

“Worse.” Remus grinned, “And I’ll give you the same advice I gave them this morning: you need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.” Evan lied.

“Don’t be contrary, Evan.” Remus huffed, kicking Evan’s shin. “Go down to the dorms, kick James out, and have an actual conversation. Declare your undying love for each other and go fuck like rabbits.”

“Love is a bit str—hold on,” Evan stood quickly, nearly toppling Remus over. “Did you say he’s with James right now?”

“Yeah?” Remus said, quirking a brow, “Thought you realized he wasn’t a threat anymore. Why are you all up in arms?”

“Just because James doesn’t have any intention of pursuing Barty romantically does not mean he’s not a threat.” Evan declared, “I’ve kissed him, remember?”

Remus hummed, “He is a very good kisser. Best be off then before he goes and snogs your man.”

“You don’t seem upset by the prospect of James kissing Barty.” Evan paused.

“I haven’t kissed Barty,” Remus shrugged, “and sources say he’s not that great at it. Though maybe you can determine that for yourself and get back to me.”

The smirk on Remus’ face was insufferable; still, Evan found himself abandoning his friend in pursuit of the thorn in his side, and as he ran through the courtyard, he could hear Remus’ hearty cackle in the distance.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Alright—so you’re going to talk to Peter and Pandora about snacks and the tea , I’ll get with Sirius and Lily about decorations, and Mary can do the invitations—I’ll give her the list. I think if we can have those out by noon, that’ll give plenty of time for people to plot and prepare their costumes. She has History of Magic second period, so she’ll likely create them then.” James rattled off.

Barty’s stomach rumbled audibly, and James checked the clock on the wall before declaring, “We'd best head to breakfast before your stomach cannibalizes itself.”

“Do we know who is who?” Barty asked, threading his emerald tie through the knot.

“I’ve been thinking about that. I think they switch off during their dates every day, just like we saw them before.” James theorized.

“Which means Sirius is Regulus and Regulus is Sirius.” Barty grinned, “Excellent.”

“What are you plotting?” James smirked.

“Me? I’m not plotting anything. I just intend to have a lovely breakfast with my bestest friend in the whole wild world.” Barty grinned devilishly.

“Make him squirm for me.” James winked, opening the door to see a sweating, rose-faced Evan panting on the other side. “We meet again, Rosier. Come back for seconds?”

“Seconds?” Barty asked, suspicious green eyes oscillating between the two boys.

“Firsts actually,” Evan—if possible—blushed deeper, his gaze fixed on Barty.

“It’s about fucking time,” James whispered under his breath. “I’ll catch you later, Crouch.”

“Rosier,” Barty nodded, gathering his books, “you left in a hurry this morning.”

“Do you like James?” Evan blurted.

“I like him enough.” Barty shrugged.

“No—I mean, do you like him?” Evan doubled down.

Barty’s head shot up, and as he observed the nervous way Evan’s fingers tapped against the inside of his pocket, the half-screwed-up face as if he were bracing for an unwanted answer, the pleading look in his vibrant blue eyes, and the clench of his jaw, Barty realized he had been bested not once but twice in the span of a week.

He’d no clue how he hadn’t seen it before—that which was so obvious to everyone around them. Then again, he hadn’t noticed his own feelings until James pointed them out. They had always been there, lingering under the surface, itching to be known through the quarrels, the readings, and the rough, tactile displays of affection masked as only friendship.

Sauntering closer toward the nervous boy, Barty ventured, “I don’t think that’s the question you want to ask me.”

“It’s not?” Evan asked, backing away toward the door James had closed.

“No,” Barty whispered. “Come on, Rosier, don’t be a coward. Ask me.”

The books slapped against the floor as Barty tossed them, so his palms were free to press against the dark oak on either side of Evan’s head, caging in the snowy hare whose eyes grew wide in the wake of Barty’s predatory gaze.

“Ask me,” Barty repeated, watching the anxious lip trapped between ivory gates.

“Do you—do you like me?” Evan asked.

“Nah,” Barty said, shaking his head, snaking one hand around the slender throat of the downcast boy, propping up Evan’s chin so that he had no choice but to look into Barty’s eyes, “I think I skipped over the liking stage a while ago. Bit of a shame, really. I would have preferred to have known I liked you before I realized I loved you.”

“You—you love me?” Evan stuttered, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

“Yeah,” Barty whispered, thumbing at Evan’s rich blue veins that pulsed beneath scarlet skin, “is that alright?”

“I—yeah. That’s—yeah, that’s brilliant.” Evan stammered, “I—um—I—well, I don’t know about—but I like you. A lot. I—how long have you known?”

“Couple of days,” Barty admitted, not minding that Evan didn’t return the same declarative statement. He was content enough to know that Evan fancied him and Barty could be patient. For Evan, he could be anything.

“A couple of days?” Evan said in alarm before punching him in the gut, “Why didn’t you tell me, you tosser?”

Barty doubled over, laughing as he clutched his aching stomach, “I was still working it out, fucker. Besides, I was waiting for you. Wasn’t certain you felt the same.”

“I do.” Evan assured softly. It was rather odd seeing Evan like this. So soft and unsure of his next steps. Barty’s fellow Slytherin had always prided himself on being the most knowledgeable boy in the room. It was something Barty had always taken great pleasure in—doing his best to outwit his friend. He had always come up short though—until now.

“Well, now what?” Evan asked.

“Traditionally, I think this is the part when we kiss.” Barty said, suddenly nervous. He’d kissed so many people before—but none of them had ever meant anything. Not like this would. This could change everything—forever—for the better or for the worse.

Evan took the lead, crooking his finger into Barty’s belt loop and pulling him in, but once he felt the velvet-soft lips against his own—the normal hunger pains in his stomach traveled south and a new voraciousness awoke in him. Despite the need for more—the urge to sink his teeth and claws into the boy of his dreams—Barty moved slowly, carefully carding his fingers through the blond locks, offering him tender lips and a rough tongue as he explored the uncharted territory of Evan’s mouth. He could have gone on forever studying the boy, wringing out soft moans, petting the silky smooth locks, feeling the hardness against his own.

But once again he was thwarted by his impatient stomach that broke through the harmonious symphony, and the two broke apart, panting against each other with closed eyes.

“I don’t know what Regulus was on about,” Evan breathed out. “That was fantastic.”

Laughter bubbled out of Barty as he counted the victory and gathered the discarded books from the floor. “Come on, Evan, we’ll be late for breakfast.”

As his partner gathered his books, Barty recalled a word James had said before he left and turned on his heel, fixing Evan with a curious gaze. “What did Potter mean about ‘seconds’?”

Evan smirked as he piled one book upon another and revealed, “Oh, he was just wanting to know if I wanted to kiss him again.”

“You kissed him?” Barty asked, and a sharp, red-hot poker dragged along his spine.

“Turnabout is fair play.” Evan teased.

“You gonna kiss every person I ever kissed?” Barty asked.

“Might do,” Evan challenged, “so I suggest you keep any future snogging of others to a minimum.”

“Dunno,” Barty jested, “always thought you and Lupin would look good together.”

“You might not live to see another day if Sirius catches you snogging Remus.” Evan warned.

“Might be worth it.” Barty grinned as Evan shoved past him.

Barty followed him out the door but ran into the boy as he stopped sharply and turned around, “You never answered my first question.”

“Your first—” Barty began and then rolled his eyes as he placed his hand over his heart. “I do not fancy James.”

Evan appraised him, and when he found no trace of deceit, he nodded, though Barty couldn’t help but add, “He’s a damn good kisser, though.”

Evan growled and stomped his heel on Barty’s toes, sending sharp pains through his legs, but reluctantly agreed, “Insufferable prat. He’s wasted on Sirius.”

“Maybe we could steal him,” Barty grinned.

“Nah, he’s only got eyes for those three. And you only have eyes for me, right?” Evan asked.

Barty wrapped his arm around Evan’s shoulder and kissed the crown of his head as he whispered sincerely, “Yeah, Rosier, you’re the only one for me.”

Chapter Text

Sirius poked his fork around his plate, mixing the eggs with the sausages and the beans, unable to find it in himself to consume any of the food as he sat at the Slytherin table, his chin resting heavy in his hand.

Occasionally he would peer up, looking across the Great Hall at himself and James—envying the appearance of ease between the two he could have for himself were it not for his own stupidity. He really needed to talk to James. But not like this. After lunch—once he and Regulus had returned to themselves—Sirius would confront him.

In the corner of his eye, Sirius caught an unexpected but belated sight as Crouch and Rosier approached the table hand in hand.

Schooling his expression, he waited for them to join him before he crafted his best impression of Regulus subtly telling Evan to back the fuck off of James, though perhaps he wouldn’t need to now that—if appearances were anything to go by—the two buffoons had sorted themselves.

Surprisingly, the pair did not resume their normal seats across from him but opted to separate themselves, sitting on either side of Sirius.

With Crouch to his left and Rosier to his right, Sirius had the distinct feeling he was being ganged up on, and though, to his knowledge, Crouch still hadn’t worked out their plot—Rosier certainly had.

“You two look happy,” Sirius noted, drinking in the unfailing smiles plastered on the pair of boys.

“We’re dating now.” Crouch declared.

“We are?” Rosier asked, filling his plate, “I don’t recall you asking me on a date.”

Crouch straightened, looking past Sirius toward Rosier as he dramatically asked, “My dearest Evan Rosier, would you do me the impeccable honor of joining me at the Halloween gathering tomorrow night in the Gryffindor tower?”

“There's a party?” Sirius interjected.

“Did James not tell you?” Crouch asked, smoothly, “Perhaps you’re not invited.”

“Why would I not be invited—” Sirius began, stifling himself before he could finish the question: to a party happening in my own common room?

“Maybe your brother doesn’t want you there?” Barty offered.

“My brother would dismiss you before he dismissed me.” Sirius seethed.

“Nah, Sirius likes me.” Barty boasted, “I can tell.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius grumbled, wickedly adding, “Besides, after this morning I doubt he would want either of you there.”

“Surely he wasn’t that sore,” Rosier chimed in. “He didn’t even yell at me or throw anything.”

Sirius cursed Regulus for his nonchalant nature but soothed himself with the thought, “Well, perhaps now that you two are officially an item, you won’t go around snogging other people’s—”

“Other people’s what?” Crouch teased, “Boyfriends? Lovers? Partners? Last I heard, Sirius hadn’t found the gall to claim the stag, so the way I see it—he’s fair game.”

“Well, that’ll change soon.” Sirius promised, eager now more than ever for his free period where he could switch back to himself and finally talk to James.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Rosier snapped, fixing Crouch with a smirk, “You kissed Regulus.”

“I did.” Crouch beamed.

“Wasn’t much of a kiss,” Sirius lied, recalling the way Crouch’s teeth felt against his neck.

“Still—it was a kiss.” Rosier said more to Crouch than to Sirius.

Some silent conversation seemed to be happening between the two, and Sirius desperately wished for context as a crocodile smile widened across Crouch’s face, sharp teeth gleaming as he agreed, “It was.”

Without warning, Rosier lifted one leg over the bench, straddling it as he pulled Sirius in, letting his legs drape over Evan’s thigh.

“Pucker up, Black,” Rosier grinned.

Sirius’ hands pushed against Rosier’s chest, but the boy had him in a bind, and suddenly their lips slotted together. Sirius tried hard to think of what Regulus would do at this moment, but his thoughts seemed to blur as Rosier gave Sirius the same rough attention, he had given James only hours ago, and the force of Sirius’ palms softened as he melted into the kiss.

Two hands wrapped around his waist from behind him, teasing his abdomen as crocodile jaws clamped down on his neck, causing Sirius to gasp and allow Rosier further access to break him.

The fiends worked in tandem, tearing him apart with soft lips and whetted teeth until an angel's voice filtered through the lustful haze.

“Not at the breakfast table,” Pandora chimed, “You’ll upset people’s stomachs, you animals.”

The vultures attached to Sirius removed themselves, pecking each other softly before resuming their normal positions as if they hadn’t eviscerated Sirius’ nerves.

Sirius peered over Pandora toward the Gryffindor table to see Remus half turned around chuckling into his shoulder, his own image squinting at the pair around Sirius and James with full cheeks, smiling wide and sending a wink to the demon at his left.

A cold chill ran up his spine as he thought about how chummy James and Barth had gotten over the last day or so, and for the life of him he couldn’t think of what could have been the spark of their budding friendship, but suddenly, as he locked eyes with his own image, Sirius’ conclusion reflected in sparkling silver eyes: They know.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Regulus stared at the clouds rolling through, promising a storm, and he wondered how much longer he and Sirius could keep up their charade. He was almost certain James and Barty had picked up on their game—their not-so-subtle nods to each other along with their out-of-the-blue blooming camaraderie were clear indicators that something was up.

There were only two more days, though. He hadn’t truly tried to provoke Remus or Evan, confident that Sirius’ antics and bad acting would do the job for him. But he needed to double down while still maintaining his facade. Evan would be harder to crack, but Remus? Regulus was confident he could make Remus admit anything with the right incentive—and while he could have done with Moony right under the surface, it didn’t seem fair. But at breakfast he seemed back to himself more or less.

“I was so sure they wouldn’t be able to hold it in,” Sirius thought, slamming Regulus’ satchel down with a thud.

“I think they’re up to something. And whatever it is—it has to do with this party.” Regulus surmised.

“You know about the party, too?” Sirius asked, shucking off his tie and tossing it to Regulus as he plopped down on the bed of clovers.

“James was barking out orders to Pete, Mary, and Lily at breakfast.” Regulus recalled, “Some sort of Halloween tea party.”

“Well, that sounds dull.” Sirius said, charming his features to reflect his true self.

Regulus followed suit, loosening the scarlet tie around his neck and peering at the fresh bite marks—red and swelling along the slope of Sirius’ throat.

“Looks like you had some fun,” Regulus teased, pointing at the love marks when Sirius presented a confused look.

Sirius slapped his hand to the area in question, gritting out curses, “Fucking Crouch.”

“Don’t be angry at him,” Regulus said, charming the flesh to be free of any evidence. “If anything, you should be grateful.”

“Grateful?” Sirius scoffed, “Grateful for what? That he maimed me?”

“Gives you an excuse to maim me.” Regulus teased.

There was a sudden thick tension in the air, and Regulus’ eyes grew wide as he realized what he had said, “Not that you would—want to—just that.”

“I do.” Sirius admitted, “Want to—that is—if—if that’s okay?”

Regulus’ heart pounded in his chest; his fingers felt electric as they brushed against the dry clovers desperate for the rain just over the horizon.

As if reading Regulus’ darkening thoughts, Sirius added, flicking at the green tie that now lay haphazardly around Regulus’ neck, “And not because of this. I want—I want to be able to love you the way I love James, the way I love Remus. Beyond the prank and the bet, I want to kiss you not to maintain appearances but because I just want to.”

“Are you done listening to her?” Regulus asked.

“I think I’ll always hear her,” Sirius admitted as thunder rolled in the distance, “but maybe you can help me weather the storm. Make her voice smaller. Replace it with your own?”

“I like James,” Regulus stated, “and I like Remus.”

Sirius blinked and nodded, staring down at the thatch of blossoms between his legs.

“And they like us. ” Regulus continued, “And I fear the only way this is going to work is if you are going to overcome your fears. The ones that whisper: if they like me and I like them, that leaves no room for you.”

“But it can work? The four of us?” Sirius asked, head downcast.

“I don’t know.” Regulus said, reaching out for Sirius’ cheek—turning it to face him, “Will you let it?”

“I want to.” Sirius said earnestly.

In a moment of bravery, slowly, Regulus lifted himself to his knees, slotting himself on Sirius’ lap as he quickly glanced around for any passersby, and straddled his brother.

“You need to talk to James.” Regulus said, “He has so much love to give, and you’re missing out on it.”

“Am I?” Sirius quirked his brow. “And how much has he loved you exactly?”

“As me or as you?” Regulus asked, smirking.

“Both.” Sirius answered, burying his face in Regulus’ neck, licking at the lightning beneath pale, freckled flesh.

“Physically? Not anymore than I’ve already told you. Emotionally? He’s offered quite a lot.” Regulus admitted.

“Has he?” Sirius asked, mimicking the devil at breakfast and sinking his teeth into that same spot, “Like what?”

“He gave me this lovely sermon, meant for you,” Regulus breathed, head tilted back and hips rolling along Sirius’ hardening center, “a beautiful little metaphor for love.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Love is like trees. We breathe out, creating carbon dioxide, and we feed the trees, and in turn, they feed us oxygen. It's reciprocal and never-ending. And if you’re lucky enough, you’ll find a forest that breathes for you’.” Regulus quoted, hoping he had gotten it all right.

Sirius pulled back quickly, searching through gray stormy eyes, “He said that?”

“More or less,” Regulus confirmed. “You just need to remember to keep breathing Siri, we’ll do the rest.”

“I love you, you know?” Sirius whispered, chasing Regulus’ lips, speaking through the soft kisses, “Probably not in the way I should, but I do.”

“Let us decide how we should or shouldn’t love each other, yeah? Fuck the rest of ‘em—isn’t that what you always say?” Regulus asked.

“Yeah,” Sirius breathed, “fuck the rest of ‘em.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

James was vibrating with nerves as the day grew longer. He was confident in his hypothesis, and as he glanced at his watch, James reckoned the mischief-makers should have switched by now. Still, Sirius had not come to find him, and James had grown weary of chasing when every attempt seemed to offer a whiplash of emotions.

He headed toward the pitch, which seemed darker than it should this time of day, but a storm was coming, and James was determined to get high in the sky—to soar above his problems, which seemed so small from such a height.

Outgrown locks crackled as the energy in the air built, and James closed his eyes as he mindlessly and blindly flew around in circles, feeling a lazy euphoria as his organs tossed around within him, giving the sensation of swooping over—outward—inward—under.

Moisture trapped itself in James’ nearly black locks, and had he been standing still, they would have given the illusion of a wild thing. As it was, they flowed easily through the air as James felt the cold, tiny prickling of drizzle pinch his face and fog his glasses.

James’ mind wandered as freely as his body as he pondered over the last few days. Deciphering conversations and interactions between the two brothers—trying to gauge which brother he had talked to and when—he came to the disappointing realization that most of his heartfelt conversations fell on—well, not deaf ears—but certainly not the ears James had hoped would hear him, and he could only hope that Regulus had carried his message to their intended recipient.

Lightning crashed over the Black Lake, and James counted down until he heard the thunder, which, by his calculations, was about ten miles away.

“Prongs!” James heard in the distance and peered down through smoggy frames to see a black dot waving at him. He should come down. Meet the boy on his level. But it was so much more peaceful up in the air, and James decided to wait a little longer before descending back into madness.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The flash of lightning startled Sirius from his silent admiration of the sun soaring through the storm clouds. Sweat slicked the mahogany in his hand, making it slippery and unstable, and Sirius felt small as a high-pitched ringing pierced his ears—shrill words from a malcontent woman traveled through time and space to make him shiver against the cold autumn air and doubt himself.

Remus’ voice roared over the thunder, cutting through the sound of his mother’s words with a sharp tongue. Come on, Black, where is your sense of adventure?

Puffing his chest, Sirius called out to James, hoping the boy would come down and join him, but he remained high in the sky, lazily perched on his broom.

Somewhere in the transformations and mimicry, Sirius had become less brash—less brave, as if all of his courage was threaded into crimson and gold rather than swimming in his blood, but Sirius was tired of being small—tired of settling for less because he was so certain it was proper to do so. He wanted more—he wanted it all—Remus, James, and Regulus—and part of him knew all it would take is one word if only he were bold enough to say it.

So, with all the daring he could muster, Sirius mounted his broom and soared toward the lazy sun shining brightly through the oncoming storm.

James’ smile was small—timid, as Sirius approached him, and he hated it, though admittedly not as much as he hated the insincere grin James had forced the other day.

“Hiya Prongs.” Sirius began, not knowing how to begin but knowing he had to start to get to the finish line, “There’s a storm coming.”

“It’s still a while away.” James shrugged as lightning cracked somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, drawing both boys’ attention away from the uncomfortable tension. They sat in silence as rain began to drizzle down, and Sirius came to the devastating realization that James was not going to prompt the necessary talk.

“I’ve done something foolish.” Sirius whispered, his voice drifting through the breeze toward James as he hovered over the earth.

“Oh?” James asked, curiosity piqued.

“Yes.” Sirius said, “To think a week ago, my problems were so small—so singular. I’ve been in love with Moony for ages, and I was so convinced he didn’t think of me that way. But we kissed—and it was amazing—and we’ve had a few talks since then, and well, he feels the same—has done for a while now.”

“Failing to see the foolishness, Pads,” James grinned—a real one—one that flashed with the lightning and made it pale in comparison.

“I’m getting there, you dolt, if you would let me finish,” Sirius huffed, infected with the contagious smile, “And then I kissed Regulus.”

“Hot.” James said, waggling his eyebrows salaciously.

“Piss off,” Sirius groaned, shoving James' shoulder. “Anyway, I kissed him, and we also talked—and I—we—we're gonna give it a go. It might wreck everything we’ve been working toward the past couple of months—might ruin our relationship for good but—“

“Nah,” James sighed confidently, “You two were made for each other.”

Warmth blossomed in Sirius’ heart. He already knew James wouldn’t be weird about it—hell, he had practically been the one to encourage it—but the sweet wistfulness that echoed beyond the taboo interest, leaving romantic whispers bouncing off the stadium seating, made Sirius melt despite the frigid air.

“Still not seeing the folly.” James prodded, shaking Sirius out of the star-spangled spell.

“Right—so—that leaves me with—with—” Sirius stammered.

“Frank?” James asked, playfully offering Sirius an out.

He thought about taking it. Toyed with the idea of making things easier on himself. Masking the conversation with another boy’s name—pointlessly, as both boys knew whom he was referring to—if only just to get the words out. But he was tired of games—of this game in particular—and James deserved better.

Sirius shook his head and heard James' breath catch, making the air thicker and harder to breathe, “No, um—no, that leaves me with you.”

“Does it?” James asked, his voice nearly as small as Sirius felt.

The wind whipped up, forcing Sirius closer as James’ hair blew from his face. His glasses were fogged, and James tugged them up over his head, trapping them in his hair so he could see Sirius more clearly, as the star was now close enough to touch.

“I need to apologize to you.” Sirius said.

“You already did.” James smirked, and Sirius cursed himself as his eyes narrowed, but this was more important than a prank or a bet, and Sirius would happily lose both if it meant gaining James.

“Let me do it again—properly this time.” Sirius said.

“I dunno; you were pretty proper last time.” James joked but refrained from continuing when Sirius gave him a blank glare. “Alright, Pads, give me your apologies.”

“I—I was unforgivably cruel to you.” Sirius began and stopped short when James howled with laughter so much so that he lost his balance and flipped upside down, then brought himself right side up again.

“What?” Sirius barked, agitated at the reaction and his fraying nerves.

“Nothing—” James said, choking on laughter, “I’ll tell you later. Continue.”

“Well, I’m not going to keep going if you’re going to laugh at me,” Sirius pouted.

“Come on, Pads,” James said earnestly, “Give me the apology.”

Sirius huffed and tried again, “When I saw you—you and Regulus kissing in the hall—I don’t know who I was angrier with—what I was madder about. But I was certain—seeing you together—that you—both of you—would favor the other over me. You just looked so right together, and I saw all the possibilities—the ones I could never have—for both of you. And it just made me so—so—”

“Jealous?” James supplied.

“Yes,” Sirius said, “and it was wrong of me to try to take that from you—either of you. And not that you need it—but you do have my blessing to continue with Regulus.”

“Is this the part where you give me the brotherly talk involving shovels?” James asked, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, that isn’t necessary.” Sirius smiled, “I’ll leave that conversation for the chaos twins.”

James gulped, and Sirius smirked satisfactorily for a moment before continuing honestly, “I can’t say I won’t be jealous in the future—seeing you two together—but I will try to keep it contained, for both of you.”

“So, I can ask your little brother on a date?” James asked.

“Yes.” Sirius swallowed thickly, his grip on the mahogany handle tightening.

“What about Remus?” James hedged, “Could I—could I ask him as well?”

“I think he would like that,” Sirius answered honestly, reminiscing over the way Remus shined as he recounted their kiss.

James opened his mouth to ask another question but swallowed it before it could be given a voice, shaking his head quickly before replacing it with acceptance. “Thank you for apologizing, Pads. It really means a lot to me.”

“Are we good?” Sirius asked shyly.

“Yeah, Pads,” James smiled, “We’re good.”

“Good.” Sirius nodded.

“We should probably head down now,” James said.

“Wait,” Sirius said, gripping James’ broom handle to keep him in the sky, “I—I never got to the foolish part.”

“Oh?” James asked, leaning in closer, “What did you do that was so foolish?”

“Well, I’m no longer pining for my fella.” Sirius said, “Are you still pining for your gal?”

James blinked, raindrops falling from thick, dark lashes as he peered up at Sirius owlishly and asked, “Who?”

“Lily,” Sirius said, rolling his eyes.

“Lil—oh. Oh. I—um—no. I haven’t really thought about her since—well, since our first kiss.” James admitted.

“Wow—are your affections so easily swayed?” Sirius joked.

“I don’t think—Merlin, it sounds so stupid now after years of talking about her, but—I don’t think I really liked her like that. I just—liked the idea of her. Of someone.” James said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“And now you have someone.” Sirius nodded.

“Well—more than one, but yeah.” James agreed.

“Right, well—”

“Why did you bring her up?” James asked curiously, and Sirius saw the recognition as he stared pointedly at the clueless boy, “Oh, do you still want to, um, relieve tension?”

“No—I mean yes but—I—not as—not as friends.” Sirius said.

“Not as friends.” James repeated. “But you—I—we—oh. Oh.”

“Yes. So, you see. Incredibly foolish.” Sirius blushed, staring down at the brush end of James’ broom the bristles holding water as the rain grew heavy.

“Tell me,” James whispered.

“I have developed—feelings—” Sirius said softly, peering up at hopeful eyes that reflected the greenery of the grass despite their usually blue appearance, “for you.”

“What kind of feelings?” James asked, grasping Sirius’ broom handle for leverage as he leaned in closer.

“I want to kiss you, and for you to know it means something. I want to take you on dates, hold your hand, call you my boyfriend, and—and—”

Sirius’ list was cut off by a bruising kiss as James swallowed his hopes and declarations with an eager tongue.

Tangled together, suspended in the sky, the two boys melded together in the electric air, shocking each other with nips and kisses and fumbled fingers until lightning cracked them apart, followed by a two-second warning roar of thunder that their flight time was up.

James’ fear mirrored Sirius’ own, and they wordlessly agreed to shoot through the sky toward the castle door for a quicker escape from the tumultuous elements.

Chapter Text

The two boys flew toward the door, dismounting from their brooms at neck-breaking speeds and sliding on the slick stone as the doors opened quickly in anticipation of their arrival. Skating into the foyer, James and Sirius cackled wildly, and wide-eyed first years ran out of their path to avoid collision.

Sirius could have easily used a drying charm but chose to shake his hair like a dog, splattering even more rain onto an impossibly wet James Potter, who grinned widely as he mockingly whined—shoving at Sirius’ shoulder till he nearly toppled over.

“Race you to the top?” James egged.

“I don’t know, James,” Sirius breathed heavily, “that entrance wore me out.”

Just as James had nodded, ready to trudge up the stairs along with a weary Sirius, the hound sprinted up the stairs, leaving James in the dust.

“Black, you little shit,” James called out, bounding after his friend, determined to win the race.

Up the moving staircase, round the bend of the banister, and down the halls, the boys pushed past the passersby (James expressing his apologies as he knocked into a handful of classmates) and toward the Gryffindor towers, where James finally caught up with Sirius, yanking him back by his shirt as he fumbled toward the portrait. Sirius quickly jumped on his back, kicking James’ knees with his ankles, causing James to stumble, and the chaser lost his balance as the weight on top of him lifted—running past him toward the Fat Lady, screaming the password for god and everyone to hear as he stumbled through the portrait. James sprinted through the closing portrait, wincing as it caught his shirt and claimed a chunk of the fabric, but he carried on, bounding through the entrance to their common room, vaguely registering Remus saying, “Hi Prongs, bye Prongs.”

James' thighs were burning, his lungs were on fire, and in a moment of desperation, he pulled out his wand, casting a tripping jinx and forcing Sirius to plant face down onto the stairs.

With quick, light steps, James jumped over the body on the stairs and began to fall in a slow, dramatic motion as Sirius grabbed a hold of his ankle, clambering on top of him, kneeing James’ back to reach the hall.

James gave his friend the same treatment, wrapping both hands around Sirius’ left shin and gaining the high ground once again, but as quickly as James righted himself, Sirius was a fraction of a second behind, and the pair of boys bolted toward the door, crashing into the hardwood nearly at the same time.

But by all accounts, James had won, touching the wood before Sirius could snake a hand around James, pinning him to the door.

“You cheated.” Sirius accused.

James flashed a winning smile and claimed, “We never agreed to terms.”

“How was I to know you were gonna play dirty?” Sirius asked, licking his lips as his eyes lowered to James’.

“How long have you been watching me play quidditch, Padfoot?” James smirked, whispering against the slightly parted petals, “Everyone knows I play dirty.”

Like thunder, Sirius’ lips crashed against James', hands tangled in his dark, waterlogged locks, and Sirius’ thigh slotted against James’ half-hard cock.

James blindly fumbled with one hand for the handle of the door, and with the other he gripped Sirius’ sodden shirt, eager to feel the warm skin beneath.

Tugging Sirius into the dorm as he walked backward, the pair were lost in a frenzy of teeth and tongues and hands until a loud groan tore them apart.

“I’ll never get used to this,” Peter lamented as he looked up his book from the sofa at the entrance of the room.

James scratched the back of his neck sheepishly as he mumbled his apologies, “Sorry, Pete.”

“Don’t be,” Peter said, throwing him a genuine smile. “I take it you two have kissed and made up?”

James peered down at his shoes, marveling at the discoloration of the soaked laces before sneaking a glance at Sirius. “Yeah. We did.”

“Glorious.” Peter deadpanned, deadly grave, as he stood and ordered, “Do not fuck in my bed.”

Sirius waggled his brows, taunting the mousey boy, but yelped as Peter smacked him over the head with the hardback he had previously been enjoying.

“What are you gonna do, Petey? Beat me to death with your little romance book?” Sirius teased.

“No. I’m not going to do anything.” Peter admitted, sauntering closer toward the mirthful boy, “But I know of a pair of mischief-makers who are itching for a reason to piss you off, and they know just how to push your buttons.”

Sirius’ lip curled, and a canine growl vibrated against the roof of his mouth while Peter smiled satisfactorily.

“So be a good boy, Padfoot.”

“Where are you going?” James asked as Peter headed toward the door.

“To give you two some privacy.” Peter answered, “I’ll be at Pandora’s tonight. Besides, we have some party planning to do.”

With a wink, Peter grabbed the bag already packed and ready by the door as if he had been hoping for this outcome all along.

In no time at all, Sirius walked with sure, heavy steps toward James, cradling his jaw as he resumed his affections.

James couldn’t think of a time he was happier than he was at this moment as he quickly grappled with the slick, clear buttons, peeling off the translucent button-down.

Sirius wanted him. Not just for a quick fuck or to relieve some tension. Sirius wanted more than that. The sweet tenderness that James longed to offer and, beneath the heat rising to the surface, a part of James was frightened of fucking this up. Ruining one of the best things that ever happened to him.

Still—he choked it down, focusing on the feel of Sirius’ soft, dewy skin beneath his fingertips.

James’ partner was not nearly as careful with James’ shirt as he pawed at it until the gusset was freed from his trousers and the buttons popped off just enough to reveal the chaser’s hard-earned muscles.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” Sirius praised as he peered down between them, admiring the peaks and valleys of James’ torso.

James had always thought of himself as an average boy when it came to looks—with untamable hair and slightly crooked teeth, large thick glasses and awkward dimples, he felt that his personality was by far his best feature—but as Sirius Black, angel among men, raked his eyes over James, back up toward James’ face as if he were savoring every bit of his image, James began to blush at the appreciative gaze.

Shaking himself out of his stupor, Sirius resumed his task of stripping James of the unwanted clothing. Toeing off his shoes, James leaned back onto the bed as Sirius shucked his trousers and pants off with one impressive tug, leaving James’ lower half entirely naked apart from the black socks.

James’ cock lay proudly against his abdomen, throbbing and leaking as he peered sheepishly through round frames at Sirius, who leaned in, spreading James’ thighs wide to get a better look at his meal.

“Fuck me.”

“That’s the idea, Pads,” James teased. “Come on, you act like you’ve never seen it before.”

“I’ve never seen it hard.” Sirius corrected, “It was already pretty impressive soft, but this—”

Sirius knelt down, curious fingers tracing the lightning-blue veins that curved up along with his cock, pulling back the skin to reveal the weeping slit and aching head begging for attention.

But Sirius was unpredictable, and though James could see in the blazing mercurial eyes that Sirius wanted to put his mouth on James, to lick and lap at the pearlescent beads, he moved his attention to James’ thighs—scarred from sudden adolescent growth and training. With a devilish smirk, Sirius set his teeth against the soft flesh, watching James with testing eyes as he slowly applied pressure.

James slammed his back against the bed, groaning as he warned, “You keep that up, Princess, and it’ll be over before it’s started.”

The teeth quickly pulled away, and at the silence between his legs, James lifted himself onto his elbows to see Sirius’ nose wrinkled in displeasure.

“What’s wrong?”

“Princess?” Sirius asked, shuddering at the pet name.

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” James grinned, shoving Sirius’ shoulder with his foot.

Sirius’ face fell instantly, and James sat up fully to inspect the boy, wondering where he had gone wrong.

The clenched jaw and abused lip could only mean one thing, and though he had made plans to tease and torment the boy beneath him with Barty, James couldn’t stop himself from wondering, “Unless, of course, you weren’t you.”

“Who else would I be?” Sirius asked.

“Come off it, Princess.” James teased.

“Keep that up, and it’ll be over before it’s started.” Sirius bit back, standing to walk away, but James swiftly cut him off, stealing his wrist.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” James whispered.

“Longer than you can keep your cock up,” Sirius joked, but as it fell flat under James’ unmovable stare, he admitted, “Can you keep a secret?”

“You know I can.” James said, rubbing his thumb against the pulse point in his grasp.

“‘Til Sunday. Or until Rosier or Remus admit they know.” Sirius said, slotting himself between James’ thighs.

“Why Evan and Remus?” James asked.

“Well, it started off as a bet and a prank to fool everyone, see who could last the longest between me and the snakes and Regulus with the lions.” Sirius regaled as James listened, kissing the soft, flat planes of Sirius’ stomach, “But Remus and Rosier figured it out fairly quickly—I still think Regulus was the one to lose, but I didn’t want to end it so quickly.”

“How long did it take them?”

Sirius huffed exasperatedly, “The first night. Neither of us factored in Moony to the equation.”

“How did Rosier know?”

“Apparently I don’t—didn’t know my brother as well as I thought I did.”

“And what about now?”

“I’m still learning him.” Sirius admitted shyly.

James propped his chin on Sirius’ sternum, looking up at the shimmering stars above. “You know that first night—you—he was so worried about your relationship.”

“Was he?”

“Yeah.” James breathed, gliding his hand down Sirius’ back, over his arse, gripping the backs of his thighs, and tugging him close as he said, “For the record, I think the pair of you will make it just fine.”

“Is that what you told him?” Sirius asked, wrapping his hands around James’ neck, fiddling with the half-dried wild tendrils that curled at the tip of his spine.

“More or less.” James smiled.

Sirius trapped his bottom lip between his teeth as he pondered aloud, “I wonder if—well, how much of your recent feelings have evolved because it was him.”

“What do you mean?” James asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I mean, you only recently started liking me, right? What if it was really just him you—”

“Pads—I—my first kiss with you may have been with him. A handful of my conversations may have been with him. But they were always meant for you. I think I’ve loved you for a while now; I just didn’t recognize that it had gone beyond friendship until we closed that gap. But I like you both for very different reasons.”

“Why do you like me?” Sirius asked, tugging at the placket of the open shirt.

“You’re a bit of a wild card—constantly keeping me on my toes,” James listed as he peppered kisses along Sirius’ collarbones. “You’re funny—sometimes in a cruel way, but I can’t help but laugh even then. You’re brilliant—I’ll bet you could even give Crouch a run for his money.”

Sirius scoffed, but James continued along the expanse of the boy’s throat, “You’re determined—stubbornly so. You have always had a way of making me feel at home—especially when I’m missing it most. And of course it helps a great deal that you are fit as fuck.”

Sirius’ grin was audible as he asked, “Am I?”

“You know you are, you prat.” James answered, nipping at Sirius’ throat.

“You have a temper, and when you get well and truly mad, your eyes crackle like a vengeful god.”

“Careful, you’re likely to give me a complex.” Sirius teased.

“You already have a complex,” James smirked, tossing Sirius onto his back and tugging the thick leather through its metal clasp.

“Your arrogance is another thing I love about you. You’re almost always so sure of yourself.” James admitted, clawing at the soggy waistband and peeling the trousers from Sirius’ lower half, adding them to the pile on the floor, “But I also love you when you let me see the cracks in that Black haughtiness—when you let me patch them up with reassurances.”

James stood at the edge of the bed, admiring the pale, beautiful boy—wavy raven hair splayed along the duvet, huckleberry-red blush making its way across his neck and chest, pink rosebuds that begged to be teased, and a modest cock desperate for attention. He crawled over Sirius, resting his forearms on either side of Sirius’ face—careful not to trap the black inked hair and pressed his lips softly against Sirius’ feeling warmer as Sirius clawed at his ribs.

Two velvet-smooth cocks rubbed against each other, stoking the fire between them, and in an unexpected move, Sirius had James flat on his back before he could blink. Petal-soft lips burned their way down from James’ offering equal attention to his neck, his chest, and his abdomen until finally Sirius reached the tip of his cock. A warm, wet tongue darted out, lapping at the arousal that leaked from his slit, and slowly Sirius’ lips wrapped around the head, suckling it lightly before bobbing down halfway.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sirius held himself there, warming James’ cock for a moment, letting himself get a feel for the girth that filled him, the curve that ran along the ridges of the roof of his mouth. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he pushed down further, letting the head of James’ cock push against the back of his throat until Sirius kissed the base with his swollen lips.

In his periphery, Sirius could see James claw at the sheets, and a sudden wicked desire to make his best friend fall apart fell over him. Retracting himself, Sirius swirled his tongue around the exposed head and worked his hand over James’ hard length twice, then spat directly on the tip, thumbing the saliva around the fire-hot nerves.

“Fuck—Sirius” James exhaled, “I meant it earlier—I’m not gonna last if you keep that up.”

“I don’t want you to last.” Sirius smirked.

“You don’t—but I thought—” James frowned in confusion, tilting his head back as Sirius tugged at the heavy sack beneath James’ cock.

“You thought what?” Sirius teased, cruelly, “That you were going to fuck me?”

James whined a high-pitched thing that could only be heard by Sirius—was only meant for Sirius.

“Nah, Prongs, you got it all wrong,” Sirius purred, casting a charm to lubricate his fingers as they brushed against James’ puckered hole. “If anyone is going to be fucking anyone—it’s me who will be fucking you. ”

Sirius pushed past the virgin ring of muscles with his middle finger, watching with low-lidded eyes as James gasped, his lips parting in a silent plea for less—more—something—anything.

“Wait—wait—” James cried, loosely grasping Sirius’ wrist, “I—”

“I’ll go slow.” Sirius promised, “Just lay back and take it, Princess. ”

“Piss o—” James’ curse was cut off as Sirius nestled in a knuckle deeper, red-faced and sweating as a deft finger fought its way through the tight channel, and while the muscles clamping around his digits promised a snug fit for his cock, Sirius frowned as James refused to loosen up—clenching at the unfamiliar intrusion.

And, well, that just wouldn’t do. Sirius wanted this to be a pleasurable experience for them both, and so he knelt down, mouthing at the softening head as he romanced it back to life.

The further down Sirius’ lips and tongue traveled, the more the hole relented, until finally Sirius was sure he could add another finger in without causing any damage.

Bobbing his head in time with his thrusting fingers, James began to relax—finding comfort in the soft dark locks that bounced with every passing.

Curving his fingers, Sirius felt more than he heard the groan vibrate from James, and he smiled around the length as his fingertips brushed along the plush hidden organ.

“Oh, you absolute bastard,” James huffed. “Fuck, that feels—mmmpphff.”

Sirius worked James over, unrelenting in his pace as he stroked his tongue along the underside of James’ cock, sealing his lips around the smooth, veiny flesh, and with one final well-aimed thrust, Sirius swallowed him whole, siphoning the life from the pulsating prick as James painted the back of his throat.

When Sirius finally pulled back, lapping at the remnants of James’ pleasure, Sirius could practically see the heart of the stag beating wildly against his chest—lungs gasping for air as if he had held his breath for ages.

“That was—fuck.” James sighed.

“It’s not over yet,” Sirius warned, tugging at his own weeping cock begging for relief. “Up you get.”

James quirked a brow and scoffed as he removed his shirt and rolled over onto his hands and knees, “Of course you would want to take me from behind.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Sirius chuckled, tugging James’ hips closer, “Your arse is a thing of legends.”

With one hand on James’ lower back and the other on his cock, Sirius guided the tip toward the winking hole, and Sirius could practically hear a gluttonous voice from deep within begging, feed me.

Despite the careful preparation, James was still impossibly tight, and Sirius had to still himself halfway to keep from coming on the spot. Laying his head against the smooth back, Sirius calmed himself with the tune of James’ beating heart, gliding his hands up from the pre-positioned hips, over the ridges of ribs, and toward the two buds that he teased with nimble fingers.

Once he was sure he wouldn’t explode in a wild fit of ecstasy, Sirius pushed the remainder of his length further into the snug cavern of James’ arse.

He felt the muscles of James’ back tense and lay there for a moment, allowing them both to get used to the sensation.

“You know what I like about you, James?” Sirius breathed, “You’re so warm.”

Sirius’ lips found James’ shoulder blade, and rather than place purposeful kisses, he just let his words seep through the skin—the bone—the tissue, mouthing them against the soft glistening flesh, “Everything you do—everything you say just feels like basking in the sun.”

Sirius rotated his hips back a fraction, rocking them slowly—shallowly—into James as he poured his heart out to his longest love, “You have a way of looking at the world with kind eyes—seeing the best in people even when there isn’t much to be found. Somehow you manage to find it—chase it—bring it out of the darkness and let it shine. You make me want to be the best version of myself.”

Sirius’ thrusts grew deeper, and he adjusted his grip, pulling his hands over the front of James’ shoulders, so his fingertips bruised along the back of James’ neck. “But you don’t shy away from the worst, either—you see the darkness in me, and you don’t falter—even when I was so awful to you, you manage to see past it—see it for what it really is. And you—you take it—even when you shouldn't.”

Sirius’ found a smooth rhythm as he rutted into James, drinking in the moans and whines, and Sirius bit down into the soft flesh between James’ shoulder blades as he mumbled, “You see a wild thing, and you don’t try to tame it.”

Licking at the raw wound almost deep enough to draw blood, Sirius whispered, “You let it be just as it is and earn its loyalty.”

Sirius lifted himself, pulling James along with him so they were both perched on their knees.

“Though they may bite,” Sirius purred, sinking his teeth into unblemished skin.

“Or pull,” Sirius said, gripping onto James’ hair, manipulating the lust-lazy head toward him.

“Or scratch,” Sirius demonstrated, taking his free hand to dig his nails against James’ sternum.

“You just let it do as it will until it’s all tuckered out and begging for affection.” Sirius whispered, closing the gap between their lips and rolling his hips into James to the beat of his wildly thumping heart.

As Sirius continued to seek out his pleasure, he mourned the time they had lost. They could have been doing this all along—shared all their firsts together rather than being so willfully blind to what was directly in front of them, but better late than never.

All too soon, Sirius was spilling into James with a grunt, and the pair of boys collapsed onto the bed, catching their breath.

James still smelled of rain as Sirius buried his nose in the overgrown hair, and once the boys’ heart rates returned to normal, a muffled James mumbled against a pillow, “S’rus, yer suff’catin’ me.”

“Shit—sorry Prongs,” Sirius huffed, lifting himself up off and out of James slowly with an echoed wince.

Sirius rolled to his side, and James adjusted himself to face the starry-eyed boy.

“That was amazing.” James sighed.

Glancing down, he noticed James was still hard and frowned at the sight. “You didn’t come again?”

“You didn’t last long enough.” James smirked.

“Piss off,” Sirius said, reaching behind himself to whack James over the head with a pillow.

“You and your brother—straight for the pillow assault.” James laughed.

“Was it really alright?” Sirius asked, fingering the fringe of the pillow nervously.

“It was perfect,” James assured. “A bit painful to start, but once I relaxed, it was great.”

“Good—that’s good.” Sirius nodded.

“Besides—would have been a waste if I had come.” James smirked.

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, face riddled with confusion.

“If you think I wasn't going to fuck you tonight, you’re sorely mistaken.” James said, and suddenly—James was on top of him, straddling his waist—rocking his cock against Sirius’ smooth stomach.

With a devilish smirk that quickened Sirius’ heart, James leaned down and whispered a low warning, “My turn.”

Chapter Text

Peter skipped down the stairs with a jaunty tune spiraling upward through his pursed lips toward the common room.

“You seem happy,” Remus noted.

“I am, Moony.” Peter admitted, “The fog is lifting, and love is in the air.”

“Right, is that what all—” Remus gestured vaguely toward the dorms, “that was all about?”

“‘Twas. If I were you, I’d make myself scarce for a couple of hours.” Peter winked, “I for one, will be in the Ravenclaw tower far, far away from the wild howling of Sirius. Something tells me he’s a vocal lover, and I’m not sticking around to test my hypothesis.”

Remus detached himself from the couch, his knees making the most ghastly cracking noise as he stood.

“You should go take a bath.” Peter suggested, “They’ve got this new magical bubble bath mix that I hear works wonders for sore joints.”

“Oh really?” Remus squinted, “And whom exactly did you hear that from?”

“Oh, you know me, Moony. I hear and see all.” Peter answered cryptically, tossing over his shoulder as he walked toward the portrait, “It’s the red one.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Remus shook his head, gazing toward the stairs of his dorm. Part of him wanted to join the boys, but his mind and his body argued, claiming they needed more time alone and he needed rest. So, he walked as best as he could down the stairs and toward the prefect’s bath as prescribed by Dr. Pettigrew—luckily, he didn’t have far to walk. As he mumbled the password, the door opened, and Remus found the room to be blissfully empty. He tugged all the appropriate knobs and watched as rose-tinted steam filled the room. Most people found the color red to be ominous—frightening—but something about the color warmed Remus and soothed Moony.

As he carefully removed his clothing, Remus could have sworn he heard scuffling, scratching noises over the sound of the water filling the bath, but as he looked around, he found no signs of life and chalked it up to his imagination.

Pink bubbles foamed atop the water, and as Remus climbed down the small set of stairs, he could already feel the effects of the magic soothing his nerves and damaged joints. The days after the full were always the worst. His mind more was at ease—though not completely his own, and he felt more in control of himself, but the effects of the moon lingered, aching more over the few days after as his body stiffened from the damage done.

Still—he hardly ever had a scratch on him nowadays, so he supposed he should thank his lucky stars.

Remus settled into the bath and felt an instant relief as the red clover potion and hot water soaked his skin, mending his withering body.

The honey-scented infusion wafted around him, and his thoughts dwelled on raven curls and stony eyes, warm freckles and flushed cheeks.

With his head lolled back against the edge of the tub, Remus’ hand wandered down his torso toward his fattening cock, and he began to stroke it languidly as he thought of Regulus. He wasn’t sure when he had begun to think of the boy as more than a friend. Remus had always found Regulus to be attractive, even before he had gotten to know him and the other snakes, and he had grown to care for all of them the same way he cared for his fellow marauders—but something had shifted, and Remus tried to place the exact moment and found himself lingering on the passionate kiss they had shared in the corridor only a few days prior.

Moony had shoved him to the side, making him feel like a voyeur in his own body, but he could still taste and feel everything he was doing—the soft, malleable flesh between his teeth; the scent of vanilla and cinnamon simultaneously arousing and calming him; and the taste of earthy ground beans lingering from the early morning taunt.

Remus was ripped away from the memory as he heard the soft pads of feet slinking closer. His hand stilled on his cock as he looked over to his right to see a small black kitten pause mid-stride, and the pair stared at each other until the little bundle of fur began to slowly resume its prowling.

It jumped up on the side of the tub, careful not to get itself wet, and sat on its haunches, observing Remus with a curious stare.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing?” Remus teased, earning him a sharp hiss and raised hackles.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Beelzebub.”

A swift paw swatted at Remus’ arm, indicating he did not care for the name so aptly gifted to Regulus by his brother, and a wicked thought formed in Remus’ mind.

“You ought to keep your temper, little one.” Remus chided, “I know, you just need to cool down a bit.”

The kitten’s eyes widened, and it tried to scurry away, but Remus was far too fast as he pinched the scruff of the kitten’s neck and held it over the water.

Remus dangled the snarling kitten over the water, lowering it slowly as it hiked its legs up as far as they would go. Clawing and wrapping itself around Remus’ forearm, it resigned itself to its fate and transformed into a disgruntled, fully clothed, half-soaked Regulus.

“You got me wet.” Regulus seethed as he straddled Remus’ thighs.

“You deserve it,” Remus chuckled.

“What did I do to you?” Regulus gaped, plush pink lips parted slightly, begging to be kissed.

“For starters, you were watching me, you little voyeur.” Remus teased.

“I wanted to see you.” Regulus said shyly.

Remus hummed, wrapping his large hands around Regulus’ tiny waist, marveling at the comparison.

“And so you have.” Remus said, leaning in with a meaningful stare, “You must have come in right behind me. I didn’t hear the door open. Tell me, Regulus, did you close your eyes? Protect my modesty? Or did you peek?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Regulus’ cheeks burned to match the pink soapy suds between the two boys.

“Oh, you did, didn’t you?” Remus teased, and Regulus could have sworn he saw a yellow flicker beat against the hazel eyes, “Did you like what you saw?”

Regulus nodded, leaning in toward the hypnotizing swirl of gold pulsating between the browns and greens. He placed his hands along Remus’ sturdy shoulders and quickly pulled his hand away as his fingers began to burn at the touch.

“Remus, are you okay?” Regulus asked, concern crackling in his voice.

Remus shook his head and his screwed his eyes up, so tightly Remus could see the fine lines of his face form. When he finally opened them, the shimmering gold had dimmed into a soft amber, and Remus breathed out sharply, “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re burning up.” Regulus said as he hesitantly touched Remus’ shoulder once again only to find it warm and damp—nothing like the fire that had nearly blistered him earlier.

Regulus’ confusion must have shown in his face as Remus explained, “Sometimes, after a calm moon, Moony lingers for a bit.”

“He does?” Regulus asked.

Remus nodded his head slowly and began to unclasp the white button-down. “When he hasn’t gotten his run in—his taste for blood—he keeps close to the surface, hoping I’ll satiate him.”

“Do you?” Regulus wondered.

“Sometimes. Though not in the way either of us would like.” Remus admitted, “I can be more—irritable—hostile to be around. I get snappy with my friends, and luckily, they don’t take it much to heart. Well, Sirius does, but he’s learned to either give Moony what he wants during the full or avoid me after for a bit, and James and Peter deal with Moony’s antics.”

“You don’t seem snappy right now.” Regulus noted as

Remus mindlessly ran his hands along Regulus’ pale skin, cupping his breast.

“No, I’m not.” Remus whispered, eyes fixed on his thumb, which was rubbing across the soft bud, springing it to life. “We’re both happily distracted at the moment.”

“Does he ever talk to you?” Regulus asked.

“It’s not like—it’s not a voice in my head. More like a feeling. Like a craving. Sometimes he craves things I don’t. Like blood—violence. And sometimes,” Remus said, lifting his eyes toward Regulus’, “our cravings align.”

“What happens then?” Regulus asked.

“Depending on how strong he is or how much I want what he does, sometimes I give in. Let him take over.” Remus whispered.

“Like you did in the corridor?” Regulus asked, leaning his head back as Remus’ hand wandered up and around his throat.

“Yeah.” Remus sighed, gently stroking the thin flesh just beneath Regulus’ ear with his thumb.

“Do you feel any—” Regulus swallowed against the firm palm at his neck, “cravings right now?”

“Scared?” Remus asked, tilting his head like a curious mutt.

“A little,” Regulus admitted, “but in a good way—an excited scared.”

Remus hummed, satisfied with the answer, but loosened his grip, and Regulus mourned the lack of pressure.

“I—um—despite what Sirius may have told you, I’m—I’ve never—”

“Never what?” Remus asked.

“I’ve not gotten further with anyone than I have with James.” Regulus admitted.

“And what have you done with James, little one?” Remus purred, golden flakes sparking to life among the forest of Remus’ eyes.

“I—we—um—” Regulus stammered, unable to find the words to adequately describe their—adventures.

“How about you show me?” Remus purred.

“Show you?” Regulus asked as Remus detached his hand, settling it on Regulus’ clothed hips.

Remus hummed and waited for Regulus to make a move. Hesitantly, Regulus leaned in, bridging the gap between them, brushing his nose against Remus’ before slotting his lips against the older boy’s.

Remus caught Regulus’ bottom lip between his teeth and sucked, spurring Regulus to draw Remus’ face nearer as his elbows hinged close and his shoulders raised. His hips began to roll against the half-hard cock Remus had been stroking earlier. Regulus found it hard to find the right angle with the bathwater flooding his trousers, making air pockets where there should have been delicious friction, and in a moment of frustration, he detached himself and quickly fumbled with his trousers, shucking them off until he was bare from the waist down.

When he looked up, Regulus suddenly felt embarrassed by his brash actions as he realized he was practically naked. No one—apart from Sirius when they were very young—had ever seen him in such a state of undress, and pink splotches appeared at his neck and along the freckles that danced on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.

Remus’ lips were parted, and he seemed to be warring with himself as he quickly reached out and just as quickly pulled back. His eyes were plagued by a golden starry night that brightened and dimmed as Remus clenched his jaw shut, and suddenly Regulus didn’t feel embarrassed any longer but took a curious step forward, pink suds gathering at the middle of his creamy white thighs.

“Remus?” Regulus asked, reaching out a hand that was snatched greedily, pulling him into an eager lap.

A pitiful groan poured out of the tawny-haired boy, and Regulus pet the locks with a tenderness and watched the stars burn out one by one.

“Sorry, Reg, I—” Remus huffed, catching his breath.

“Does it have to be one or the other?” Regulus wondered.

“What do you mean?”

“You or Moony.” Regulus elaborated, “I don’t want you fighting over—well—I want you to enjoy it. I don’t want you to be focused on fighting him the whole time.”

“The things he wants right now,” Remus shook his head, “you're not ready for, little one.”

“What about the things you want?” Regulus whispered, “Am I ready for those?”

Remus huffed depreciatively and shook his head, “No, but I have better control than he does.”

“Well,” Regulus thought, rolling his hips, moaning in the wake of the smooth glide he previously lacked, “What if we give him one thing he wants?”

“Like what?” Remus asked, leaning his head back, a bruising grip on Regulus’ waist fighting the urge to make him stop or let him continue.

“You said he liked blood?” Regulus offered.

A warm, rich growl reverberated from Remus’ chest, vibrating against Regulus’ palms, “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“You didn’t see him the other night, Remus.” Regulus said, “He won’t hurt me.”

“You put too much faith in monsters,” Remus scoffed.

“And you think too poorly of your other half. You’d think that after all this time spent together you would know him better.” Regulus chastised, “He’s not a monster, Remus—and neither are you.”

Remus stared at Regulus, contemplating the offer.

“Come on, Remus,” Regulus tempted, rolling his hips once more, “Let him off the leash.”

“Sirius will kill me if I hurt you.” Remus said.

“You leave Sirius to me.” Regulus purred against Remus’ lips.

“We’re not fucking you.” Remus stated, more to himself and his other half, if Regulus had to put money on it.

“I’m not ready for that anyway,” Regulus admitted, shyly. “I—I’m kind of—saving that experience.”

“For your brother?” Remus guessed.

Regulus nodded and watched all the brightly blazing stars from Remus’ right eye rapidly zoom to his left, leaving one earthy hazel eye and one brilliantly gleaming golden eye.

Fingers dug into his hips as Remus held on tightly, encouraging Regulus to make gentle waves as his lips and teeth traveled toward the strawberry cream neck, nipping and testing against the thin flesh, and Regulus tilted his head to the side, bearing it for Moony to take what he needed.

Sharp canines pierced Regulus’ flesh, and he whined at the bite but refused to move away from the initial sting but rather dug his nails into Remus’ hair—tugging it in desperation as he clamored for something to hold on to.

He was quickly rewarded with a soothing tongue that lapped at the rich red iron that coated his alabaster neck, pooling in the curve of his collarbone, and focused on stimulating the hard length that peeked through the pink foam between them.

The water made their cocks slick and slippery, and there was hardly any friction between the two to offer anything but a tease at release. In one swift movement, Remus wrapped his hands beneath Regulus’ thighs and stood, causing the water to cascade from their joined bodies. With Regulus in his arms, Remus turned around, setting Regulus on the ledge, and the smaller boy shivered at the sudden chill from having been removed from the warm red waters.

“Have you ever been eaten?” Remus mouthed against the fresh wound.

“E—eaten?” Regulus stammered as Remus licked a broad stripe along the curved bone below the bite.

“Here,” Remus asked, smoothing a hand over the top of his thigh toward Regulus’ jutting cock, then brushing his fingers along the bulging veins over the soft sack toward his untouched puckered hole, “or here?”

“I—no,” Regulus admitted.

“Can we have that?” Remus purred against his ear, “ Can we eat you ?”

“Y—yeah.” Regulus managed.

Remus left a trail of angry red marks from Regulus’ neck to his hip, pausing only to give rough, hungry attention to his pink blushing buds and his navel. A rough tongue lapped around the base of Regulus’ cock, nose pressed deeply against the small thatch of wet curly brown hairs, and Regulus did his best to calm himself, running his hands through Remus’ dry tawny locks.

Teased and tormented with the promise of Remus’ mouth around him, Regulus whined as the wolf took his time, savoring his meal.

“Last chance to back out, little one,” Remus purred against Regulus’ leaking tip.

For the briefest moment, Regulus wondered if Moony had a voice. If Remus had pushed himself aside and let the wolf manipulate his tongue to offer the warning.

“No?” Remus asked, “Very well, then.”

Remus licked his lips, the underside of his tongue just barely grazing Regulus’ tip, and with a golden wink, they devoured him whole.

Regulus fisted the wavy blonde hair with both hands, using the locks as handlebars as he watched Remus engulf his cock with a natural ease.

Starlight rolled upward toward the protective darkness of heavy lids, leaving only white crescent moons between thick dark lashes as Remus languidly bobbed his head, swirling his tongue around the bulbous tip with every other pass.

Teeth gently scraped along the underside of Regulus’ cock, and the sensation sent him reeling as he lifted his legs onto sturdy shoulders—locking his ankles together as he squeezed his smooth thighs against sandpaper cheeks.

Heady sighs and timid whimpers ripped from Regulus as Remus worked him over, and just as he was about to fall from the edge, Remus’ mouth ripped away from his cock.

“No—please—I’m so close,” Regulus whined.

A rich, scalding chuckle vibrated from between Regulus’ thighs, and Remus untucked Regulus' legs from around him, pushing his knees back at an unnatural angle, forcing Regulus to lay his back against the cool, moist tiles.

Warm breath tickled the winking, exposed star, and Remus’ nose nuzzled the tender, malleable sack as a broad tongue licked his hole.

Regulus felt the skin around his wrinkled hole raise against Remus’ wet tongue as he sucked against the hole, then rolled his tongue over it again.

Sucking and rolling, pulling and pushing, Remus continued to draw out the most embarrassing noises from Regulus until he was a blithering, babbling mess, begging for more.

But neither Remus nor Moony stole more than they had promised, and when they had had their fill, their lips traveled back up toward Regulus’ cock, devouring it at a brutal pace until they had drunk every drop Regulus had to offer.

Unexpectedly, Remus stood, snatching Regulus’ sweat-soaked locks and rag-dolling him up toward Remus’ cock. Regulus would have returned the favor, but Remus’ death grip allowed him little movement as the wolfish boy grunted, stroking his cock to a gaping, wide-eyed Regulus.

“Stick out your tongue, little one,” Remus ordered, and Regulus obeyed, staring up at the duality of the boy above.

A golden moon shone brightly, while the forest darkened, and with a growl, Regulus felt warm white stripes paint his face in Remus' image.

Warm waters broke Remus’ fall as he fell to his knees, lapping the temporary scars away and feeding them to Regulus in a bruising kiss.

Once Regulus had swallowed the offering, Remus pulled back and breathed a gentle, “Thank you,” as the gold ebbed away to hibernate until the moon called on him once more.

Regulus limply hung in Remus’ arms as the Gryffindor resumed his starting position in the tub, tugging Regulus to relax against him, back to chest.

Hissing through his teeth as Remus thumbed the fresh love bite on Regulus’ shoulder, Remus muttered, “Sirius is definitely going to kill me.”

“Sirius is more likely to kill me,” Regulus pointed out, stroking the arm wrapped tightly around his middle. “He’s been pining for you for ages, and I got you first.”

Remus chuckled and whispered, “You have a habit of doing that, don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“Stealing our firsts from each other.” Remus clarified.

“What do you mean?” Regulus asked.

“Well, you took James’ first kiss with Sirius, Sirius’ first kiss, and my first kiss between the four of us, and now—”

“What do you mean I stole James’ first kiss with Sirius?” Regulus asked, turning in Remus’ arms to watch his expression with greedy eyes.

Remus stilled and instantly deflated, releasing the captive secret, “I know you’ve been trading places with Sirius, Regulus.”

“I won,” Regulus whispered.

“Pardon?” Remus asked.

“You admitted you knew.” Regulus said excitedly, “I won!”

“I—what?” Remus asked, perplexed, “Take it from the top.”

“Sirius conjured this plan—an effort for us to relive our childish antics—truly I think it started as a sincere plot to get to know me better and for him to get to know me better, but essentially we were to trade places every other day—first one to back out or get caught lost. But then you and Evan clocked us too quickly, and Sirius doubled down, making a new bet to get either of you to admit you knew once we figured out you knew.”

“Well, in that case, you lost the first bet.” Remus chuckled.

“What?” Regulus deflated.

“You have a very distinct smell, little one, and I clocked you that first night when you kissed James. So you’re tied.” Remus ruled, “What were the terms?”

“Well—with the first bet it was veritaserum for 12 hours.” Regulus revealed.

“Veritaserum doesn’t last twelve hours,” Remus said.

“It does the way I brew it.” Regulus smirked.

“Hmm. And the second bet?” Remus asked.

Regulus blushed as he mumbled the answer through closed teeth.

“Sorry I didn’t catch that.”

“We bet that the loser would also wear a girl’s uniform.”

“A skirt?” Remus pondered, allowing his hands to wander over the thighs that would be exposed.

“I—yeah.” Regulus whispered.

“So what happens if you’re at a tie?” Remus asked.

“I guess since we both won, we wouldn’t have to adhere to the terms.” Regulus thought.

Remus hummed as his fingers danced along Regulus’ inner thighs, “You both won, that’s true. But you both lost as well.”

“Remus Lupin, are you trying to catch me in a skirt?”

“Picture it for me,” Remus whispered, “you and your brother in a pleated skirt, the hem brushing just above the middle of your thigh—“

“The school uniform code says—”

“Hang the code and don’t interrupt the fantasy.” Remus chided, playfully slapping Regulus’ knee, which peaked just above the rosy suds, “Creamy white thighs on display, and in walks James, a drooling, stuttering mess of a boy falling to his knees.”

“You wouldn’t fall to your knees for me?” Regulus pouted mockingly.

“No,” Remus answered, “I’d flip the skirt over your back and bend you over the nearest flat surface.”

Regulus blushed at the vivid picture Remus painted, and suddenly wearing a skirt didn’t seem so bad.

“Where are James and Siri?” Regulus asked, suddenly reminded that Sirius had promised to talk to his best friend.

“In our dorm,” Remus whispered, “probably tangled up in each other.”

“They talked?” Regulus asked.

“Pretty sure.” Remus nodded. “When I saw them, they were racing for the room, and shortly after, Peter seemed pretty happy to leave.”

“I like Peter.” Regulus said, “By far the most tolerable of the lot of you.”

“I see you’re back to your snarky self.” Remus chuckled, “Think I can stay in your dorm tonight? I’d like to let them have their moment, and I’d very much like to wake up next to you again.” Remus asked.

“If you can bear Barty and Evan.” Regulus said, “Somehow they’re more insufferable now that they have worked out their feelings.”

“Are they?” Remus asked, and Regulus nodded.

“As I was leaving, they were pawing at each other,” Regulus shared, “and the idea of being watched only spurred them on.”

“Huh,” Remus considered, “I guess Pete was right.”

“Right about what?” Regulus asked.

“Love is in the air.”

Chapter Text

“You don’t love me.” Sirius mumbled against the crimson pillowcase, eyes still shut, and James had almost thought he had imagined the declaration.

It was early on a Saturday morning, and James had much to prepare for tonight. He had hoped to sneak away without disturbing Sirius’ beauty sleep, leaving a note to come find him later, but apparently James had not been as quiet as he had hoped while dressing.

“Where are you going?” Sirius yawned as he turned over to face James fully. Beautiful, tangled waves were awarded a chestnut tint as the morning sun sparkled through the window. Sirius’ eyes were still shut, blocking out the light that on any other day of the week would have warned him he had overslept, and one hand was draped over his head onto the pillow, while the other scratched at his exposed belly.

“I have a party to plan,” James reminded.

“With Crouch?” Sirius asked, scrunching his nose up in distaste, “You’re going to abandon me for Crouch?”

“Well,” James teased as he tugged his shirt over his head, “he is a better kisser than you.”

James slotted his arms through the holes and caught a vengeful eye peeking through dark lashes. In one quick rabbit movement, Sirius snatched the front of James’ shirt and tugged him down onto the bed, fiercely kissing James—licking the inside edges of his mouth and tongue before tugging James’ bottom lip between his teeth, growling, “I dare you to say that again.”

“Thought you were supposed to be working on your jealousy, Pads.” James joked, pulling his lip away with a painful pop.

“With you three, not with outsiders,” Sirius huffed.

James leaned down to peck the corner of Sirius’ mouth with a bloodied lip and promised, “I was only teasing, love. You’re by far a better kisser.”

“You’d do well to remember that, Potter.” Sirius warned, swatting James away, “Go on. Enjoy your date.”

The hissed word was a warning, and James felt the need to soothe the rabid beast in his bed: “It’s not a date, love.”

“Better not be,” Sirius threatened, rolling over and fiercely hugging James’ pillow.

“Will I see you before you—ya know?” James asked.

“Huh? Oh,” Sirius said after the question had caught back up with him, “Maybe. But I doubt it. You really wore me out last night, Prongs.”

“Alright, well, I’ll see you later then,” James chuckled as he strolled out the door, down the stairs, and into the common room where Mary and Lily were already waiting.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Mary tossed an invitation toward James, and he caught it with ease, flipping it over and reading it carefully.

“Uh—Mary? The party is supposed to be here. In the Gryffindor common room.” James said, “says here it’ll be in the Forbidden Forest.”

“We’re changing the venue,” Lily said, inspecting her nails.

“Why?” James asked.

“It’s a private party, no?” Lily asked, and James nodded slowly as he struggled to follow the tracks in Lily’s mind, “Well, it’s hard to keep a party private in such a common space.”

“Yes, but how are we going to get there without being detected by Filch or anyone else?” James asked.

“Well, see, that’s why it took me so long with the invitations,” Mary said, flicking her wand onto James’ invitation. James watched as the paper curled and folded into a white rose, and as Mary plucked it from his hand, he found it difficult to focus on her. He knew she was there, but his attention was instantly diverted around her, making her practically impossible to see.

“Notice-me-not charms embedded into the paper activated by the transfiguration charm.” Mary explained.

“That’s—that’s fucking brilliant, Mary.” James marveled as she suddenly came back into focus and handed James the unfolded invitation.

“I’ve been known to be brilliant from time to time.” Mary shrugged, but her wide smile revealed she was secretly pleased by the praise and handed a few invitations to James.

“What about everything else?” James asked as he placed the papers safely into his pocket.

“It’s all handled.” Lily said, “We could use yours and Barty’s hands with the heavy lifting—transfiguring the tables and chairs and such. Do not invite Evan.”

“Why not?” James asked.

“They’ll be useless together. He and Remus can help set up the courts later after you two are done.” Lily advised.

“The courts?” James asked.

“What’s a party without any games, Potter?” Lily smirked mischievously.

“What have you got planned, Evans?” James narrowed his eyes at the regal lioness, feigning innocence.

“Just a friendly game of croquet.” Lily said, batting her lashes before her commanding voice returned quickly, “Now, go get Barty and get to work.”

“May we have breakfast first, your majesty?” James asked, offering a poor attempt at a curtesy.

Lily tapped her chin in thought and finally declared, “I’ll allow it.”

“Thank you ever so,” James smiled, winking at the girls as he gave a very real bow and rushed out the door toward the Slytherin dorms.

James leaned against the stone wall of the dungeons, one foot propped against the wall at his back as he waited for an early snake to slither out of their hole. What he was not prepared for—though he should have been—was to find Remus and Regulus hand in hand exiting the secret entrance.

“Well, aren’t you two precious?” James asked, admiring the pale skin quickly painted red by the attention.

“James,” Remus greeted, far too friendly-like for James’ liking.

“Remus,” James parroted, drawing his attention to the shy boy at his friend’s side, “Regulus.”

With a crooked finger, James wordlessly beckoned the Slytherin toward him, and like a worm on a hook, Regulus stumbled toward him.

Poking from the white collar was a deep red mark, and James’ eyes were instantly drawn to it. As he pulled the collar back, James observed the bite, finding a twin peeking against the edges.

“Someone was busy last night,” James teased, running a thumb over the rainbow discoloration surrounding the cauterized wound. “You’re really trying to test your brother’s jealous streak, aren’t you, darling?”

“And just what were you doing with my brother last night, Potter?” Regulus asked, crossing his arms and arching an inquisitorial brow.

“Fucking him senseless,” James admitted smoothly, “When do I get my turn with you?”

“After Sirius,” Regulus said, eyes widening as if he hadn’t meant to give in so easily.

James’ hand wrapped around Regulus’ throat, dragging him closer as he whispered against petal-soft lips, “Promise?”

James felt knuckles brush against his groin as Remus wrapped his hands around Regulus’ hips, blocking the smaller boy in between them.

Regulus nodded as much as James’ grip would allow, and James leaned in to press a gentle kiss against Regulus’ lips. If the bruises and bite marks were any indication, Regulus didn’t mind a bit of rough love, but James found the younger Black brother melted just as easily with honeyed kisses, and James enjoyed pulling sweet little hums from the boy—besides, there was always time to test Regulus’ resilience later.

“What about you, Remus?” James asked, drawing his attention to the wolf leaning down to lap at the tender claim on Regulus’ neck, teasing James’ thumb as it got tangled in Remus’ attention.

“You’re gonna have to take me to dinner first.” Remus said.

“Well wouldn’t you know it?” James said, pulling two cards from his pocket with his free hand and producing them in front of the pair, “Dinner is served at midnight. Will you be my date, Moony?”

Remus pulled the two cards from James’ hands with his teeth and muttered around the paper with hungry eyes—as if midnight couldn’t get there fast enough, “It’s a date.”

James blushed under the attention and coughed nervously as he informed, “Directions are on the back; be sure to read it over carefully. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go fetch my partner in crime.”

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter,” Regulus advised, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles of James’ shirt with heated palms. “There’s a reason we left when we did.”

“Oh?” James asked, “Well, I think it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine, don’t you?”

“Good luck with that,” Regulus snorted. “They’re immune. They’ll likely just fuck in front of you.”

“Oh really?” James asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Do try to sound less pleased by the prospect,” Regulus teased.

“Aren’t you just the least bit curious?” James asked, “Who do you think would top? Would they switch?”

“You’ll have to tell me,” Regulus laughed, shaking his head, “I’ve no desire to see it with my own eyes—though I fear it’s inevitable at some point.”

“Prude.” James teased, pecking Regulus’ lips.

“Voyeur,” Regulus returned, matching the gesture.

“You’re one to talk,” Remus teased as he backed away, spinning Regulus in his arm and offered James an appreciative smile promising, “I’ll see you later Prongs.”

“See you later,” James sighed, snapping his fingers as he remembered, “Go find Lily after breakfast. She has a task for you.”

Remus waved over his shoulder, acknowledging the order, and a nest of snakelets emerged from the den, allowing James to slip through the wall in search of Barty and his rabbit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The sound of soft moans could be heard from behind the dorm door, and James carefully turned the handle, stepping inside, closing it behind him.

Evan’s left cheek was flat on the bed, glossy lips parted, and eyes closed, blocking the brilliant blue from James’ view. Blond hair was in disarray, and several bite marks, not unlike Regulus’, littered Evan’s neck and back as if Barty had made a true attempt to consume Evan from the outside in.

Sharp talons dug into the duvet at Evan’s shoulders, and a sheen of sweat glistened along his arched back. Knees were parted shoulder-width apart on the bed, and his ankles were crossed beneath a ruthless Barty who rutted into the boy with abandon.

Sun-kissed fingers burned into rosy hips, and a similar sheen of sweat shone against a bare-chested Barty, droplets crashing from tousled bangs and onto the curve of Evan’s arse and with a feral Cheshire grin and wide, narrowed, mirthful eyes, Barty greeted between pants, “Nice of you to drop in, Potter.”

Evan’s eyes shot open and stared at James before he turned his face into the mattress, mumbling a curse.

“Oh, Rosie, don’t be like that,” Barty mocked, reaching around and grasping the light blonde hair, tugging it sharply—forcing an irate and ever so slightly bashful Evan to look forward, “Say hello to James.”

James pushed himself off the door and sauntered over toward the edge of the bed, staring down at a pink-faced Evan Rosier, eyes glistening with angry tears and teeth like thorns, ready to prick James should he touch him.

“Hello, Potter,” Evan hissed.

Barty rolled his hips and stilled within Evan, leaning down to whisper in his ear loud enough for James to hear him, “How are you ever going to get him to join us if you’re mean to him?”

“Join you?” James laughed, “Is that your game?”

“That kiss left quite the impression, Prongs.” Barty smirked.

“Which one?” James challenged, chuckling as Rosier’s blue eyes were overcast by dark furrowing brows.

“Come on, Roise,” Barty purred, ignoring James in favor of taunting his newly acquired boyfriend, “Greet our guest nicely.”

Barty placed his teeth just over the already purpled patch on the right side of Evan’s neck and sucked sharply, keen eyes trained on an amused and slightly aroused James.

“Fuuuck—Barty,” Evan groaned, eyes rolling up to meet James.

“Not even close, Rosier,” James taunted, “My name is James, remember.”

Barty snaked a hand beneath Evan and out of view, pumping the boy twice before placing the hand back on Evan’s hip.

“James—” Evan moaned, and James crouched down to meet Evan on his level.

“Hiya Bunbun.” James smirked and knew by the way Evan didn’t break his expression that the boy was lost in that sublime space between pleasure and pain.

“Barty, fuck— move —”

Despite the order, Barty remained still, teeth trapped against Evan’s neck, drawing out the poisoned demand until sweet, honeyed pleas dripped from his lips.

James took a moment to enjoy the view from the newly acquired vantage point. Evan’s cock was slender and long, made an angry red by the black ribbon cinched around the base of his cock and his bullocks, a silky web connecting the head of his cock to the small wet dollop below.

“How long have you had him like this?” James asked, peering over Evan’s shoulder to meet sadistic green eyes.

“About thirty minutes.” Barty said, nonchalantly.

“He’s gorgeous,” James admitted.

“He’s got another hole right here,” Barty offered, smoothing a hand back up toward Evan’s mouth—shoving two fingers past soft lips and sharp teeth to show just what Evan was capable of, testing his gag reflex while Evan made deliciously sinful sounds.

James would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted, but he didn’t dare accept the challenge—knowing even though they hadn’t quite talked about the boundaries of their relationship, Sirius wouldn’t like it—not unless he were here with James to doll out the bad medicine alongside him.

The thought of Sirius sparked an awfully cruel idea, and James wrapped his hand around cool mahogany, retrieving it from his pocket. Barty shot him with a curious stare but made no effort to stop him, eager to see what James was up to and at the silent permission, James mumbled a charm that sent low vibrations from the tip of James’ wand to the tip of Evan’s cock.

“Aarggghhhh,” Evan cried, and Barty closed his eyes as he set his cheek against the pale, bruised shoulder.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Barty whispered, holding a tensing Evan still.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be?” James asked as he watched a drop of come travel along the thin string beneath Evan.

“Another fifteen minutes?” Barty predicted.

Evan rolled his shoulder back to jab Barty in the cheek and bit the fingers between his teeth. Barty growled as he pulled his wounded digits out of his partner's mouth and slapped him across the arse.

“Make it twenty.” Barty corrected, “You staying to watch?”

“No,” James said, standing regretfully, “I need food. It’s gonna be a long day. But you two have fun. Meet me at The Great hall when you’re done.”

Evan reached out quickly, tugging at James’ trousers as he gritted, “Break the spell, Potter.”

“Not a chance.” James smirked, cackling at the trail of obscenities behind him as he strolled out, closing the door behind him.

Chapter Text

“Wakey-wakey,” a soft feminine voice echoed from just above his head. Long, well-manicured nails scratched at the crown of Sirius’s scalp, gently rousing him from his slumber.

“It’s really not fair that you lot can come in here whenever you want, but we get booted out the second we try to climb your stairs.” Sirius grumbled, tossing himself onto his back, opening crusty eyes to see a wave of fire shimmering over an ivory, freckled shoulder.

“It’s really not fair that everyone is hard at work to prepare for this party while you laze about like some fat cat.” Lily teased.

“Pretty boy privilege.” Sirius grinned.

“You’re not that pretty, Black,” Lily declared.

Sirius’ eyes narrowed at the auburn vixen in his bed. “You take that back.”

“You get off your arse, and I might.” Lily challenged.

“Evans, darling,” Sirius purred, holding out an arm, “why are you out amongst the peasants when you should be lazing about with me?”

“Some of those peasants are your boyfriends.” Lily smirked.

“They know their place,” Sirius said, stretching his long arms above his head before folding them behind his hair.

“Do you know yours?” Lily asked, examining her nails before offering a cutting stare.

“I’m a king,” Sirius said with a wink, “and no one outranks a king.”

“Oh, Black, you couldn’t be more wrong.” Lily said calmly—too calmly—and suddenly Sirius’ bare chest was viced by warm, freckled thighs while his hair was pinned to the bed by a cruel fist that threatened to rip at the root, “A king may be the most important figure, but he’s not the most powerful. A king is weak without his protectors—unable to make a move without being flocked by knights and rooks, bishops and pawns. A queen, on the other hand, is free to move about as she pleases—getting the job done.”

“You’ve been playing far too much chess with Peter.” Sirius groaned.

“And you’ve not been playing enough.” Lily chastised, hopping off Sirius and the bed, taking the sheets with her until Sirius was as naked as the day he was born.

“Now, get out of bed, put some bloody clothes on, and go help your boyfriend in the forest.” Lily commanded, “If I don’t see you cross the Fat Lady’s threshold in fifteen minutes, Black, I can assure you, I’ll show you how powerful a queen can be.”

“Bloody witch,” Sirius grumbled, watching Lily leave, linen in tow, as he climbed out of the bed, got dressed, and headed down toward the Forbidden Forest—dutifully ignoring the satisfied smirk of Lily Evans as she watched him emerge from his haven.

♜♞♛♚♞♜

“Your girlfriend is a bloody menace,” Sirius mourned, as he saddled up alongside James, wrapping a tired arm around the taller boy’s shoulder and leaning on him like a tree.

“Girlfriend? What are you doing out of bed?” James asked, smoothing the untamed hair that Sirius hadn't had the opportunity to properly care for due to the unrealistic time restraint Lily had set on him.

“Lily made me.” Sirius pouted.

“Oh you poor thing,” James chuckled, kissing the top of Sirius’ tangled waves.

A snapping twig alerted Sirius they were not alone, and he swiftly swiveled his head toward the sound to see a widely grinning and far too satisfied Barty Crouch Jr.

“Black,” Crouch greeted, licking his bottom lip in a way that made Sirius burn despite the cool autumn breeze and the natural shade of the forest.

“Crouch,” Sirius snarled.

“Play nice,” James warned, and Sirius backed away at the betrayal.

“Yeah, Black,” Barty echoed, “play nicely, after all—James and I left you a present.”

“A present?” Sirius’ eyes narrowed as he growled at the rookish boy, “What kind of present?”

Crouch slithered toward him, and with every step Sirius felt his breath slowly leave his body until Crouch stood directly in front of Sirius, turning him to point over his shoulder at an irate Rosier walking with a subtle limp down the hill.

“Oh, Barty you didn’t.” James chided.

“‘Oh, Barty, you didn’t’ what?” Sirius asked, flicking his eyes between the two, trying to decipher their secret language.

“I did.” Barty grinned devilishly, and suddenly an angry fury whipped through Sirius at the thought of missing crucial information—of being left out.

“Did what?” Sirius demanded.

“When I came knocking,” James began.

“You didn’t knock.” Barty teased.

“When I came around,” James amended.

“You didn't come at all,” Barty corrected.

“When I visited,” James huffed, waiting for another interruption, which thankfully didn’t come as Sirius was already on the verge of mauling Crouch at the latest correction, “Evan had been edged for about thirty minutes before my arrival. Judging by the look on his face, Barty never let him come.”

“What have you got to do with it? And how is this a present for me?” Sirius asked, fearing the worst, hoping for the best.

“James arrived, and I offered Evan up on a silver platter,” Barty sighed. “Unfortunately, Evan’s mouth wasn’t tempting enough for him. But before he left, James gave Evan a parting gift.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it a gift.” James said, “More like a punishment.”

“A punishment? What kind of punishment? For what?” Sirius asked, watching the two banter seamlessly back and forth around him.

James blocked the rosy view from starry eyes as he stepped in front of Sirius while Barty languidly wrapped his arms over Sirius’ shoulders, laying his head on his bicep to get a clearer view of Sirius’ expression as James whispered, “He teased you, love. It was only right that I teased him back.”

“What did you do?” Sirius asked with wide, excited eyes as he saw the devilish glint in his partner’s—one reserved for pranks, for mayhem, for mischief.

“You know that charm I used on you last night?” James asked, running a warm hand against his midnight locks, pushing ever so slightly, and Sirius let his head loll on Crouch’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Sirius breathed as James drew closer, slotting his thigh between Sirius’ legs. The pressure of the warm bodies surrounding him, squeezing him, sent an unexpected thrill up and down his spine, and Sirius could feel those low vibrations against his back as Crouch chuckled at Sirius’ shiver.

“I put it on a very,” James nipped against Sirius’ neck, “very low setting. Just enough to keep him where Barty had him, then left him like that for Barty to do what he wanted. Which, apparently, was to piss his boyfriend off.”

“How long did you keep him there?” Sirius asked Barty.

A long, flat tongue grazed across Sirius’ bared throat, and Crouch’s lips tickled his ears as he said cryptically, “a while.”

“Crouch,” Rosier snapped, and suddenly Sirius’ cloudy vision became so clear. His own silver eyes burned red with anger as James pawed at his brother, blood surfacing against the silver fork in Crouch’s hand, the pain in his chest as Rosier and Remus watched with amusement while Crouch devoured Sirius, the bruising kiss stolen from James yesterday morning.

He had gathered that Rosier liked to play games—liked to tease and torment not only his adversaries, but his friends as well. But Rosier was a jealous snake—claiming Crouch as his own much like Sirius had with Regulus. Willing to let his pet play with others as long as it wasn’t the boy he was currently staring daggers into, and even then, apparently, if the previous conversation was to be believed, as long as Rosier could play along, he didn’t mind as much.

Sirius’ mind drifted toward the kiss between Remus and Regulus, lingering in the thought that though he had been far from the pair, he still felt a part of the group with James whispering delicious forbidden desires in his ear.

“Did you forget what I told you?” Rosier snarled, staring at James’ hands, which were perched on Barty’s hips, offering a better cage for Sirius.

“‘Course not, Rosie.” Barty soothed, maintaining his leech-like hold on Sirius.

“Then why the fuck are you—”

“Prongs,” Remus chided as he caught up to the boys in the forest, arm draped around Regulus, who was knitted to his side, “I wouldn’t test Evan’s patience.”

“He didn’t seem to mind me testing it this morning.” James teased and stepped back at the subtle nod from Barty toward the rose in question.

Crouch shifted his head to the other ear, hiding his lips and voice from the others’ recognition as he whispered softly, “I’ve had a thought.”

“Your thoughts often lead to trouble,” Sirius bit back, observing the amused but curious stare from his brother as the other boys tried to calm the angry rose.

“Nonsense. My thoughts are delightful. Depraved, but delightful.”

“Spit it out, Crouch.” Sirius sighed, leaning against the strong form behind him.

“You’re gonna kiss Evan.”

“I h—” Sirius started and recalled Sirius hadn’t. “Why would I do that?”

“Because I have been reliably informed by a trusted source that friends kiss.” Barty purred.

“We’re not friends.” Sirius said.

“All the more reason,” Barty offered. “See, Evan and I have a deal—and I think it would do you good to have it too; might temper that little green monster that awakens anytime someone gets too close to your boys.”

“What’s your deal?” Sirius asked, unable to quash his curiosity.

“A kiss for a kiss, a touch for a touch, a fuck for a fuck.” Barty whispered, teasing the cartilage of Sirius’ ear with tiny nips, “Anything Evan does, I can do. Anything I do, Evan can too.”

“Seems like a recipe for disaster,” Sirius snorted.

“Nah,” Barty denied, “Evan just wants to be included.” To be a part of the bit. Particularly when it comes to people he feels threatened by.”

“Like James?” Sirius asked, watching as the boy in question seemed to draw the roses attention so easily away from Sirius and Barty.

“Know the feeling?” Barty asked earnestly.

Sirius’ eyes shifted toward his brother, who was no longer observing the pair, a small smile stretched across his lips, and though his eyes were trained on Rosier and James, Sirius knew he was being perceived.

“Yeah.” Sirius sighed.

“Like I said, you’re not much different.” Barty said softly, “So, James has kissed Evan, and Regulus has kissed Evan. I think it’s time to even the score, don’t you?”

“By that logic I’d have to kiss you, too.” Sirius gritted, irritated by his own arousal at the thought.

“Don’t you worry, Black. I’ll get my kiss,” Barty chuckled, “one way or another. But for now, my boy is aching for some relief.”

“I doubt a kiss is going to help that.” Sirius snorted.

“Depends on where you kiss.” Barty hummed, “Be a lad and take care of him for me?”

“I have boyfriends now.” Sirius said weakly.

“I don’t think they’ll mind,” Barty said. “What was it James said? Play nice. I can’t think of anything nicer than helping a friend in need.”

“—insufferable prick,” Rosier’s voice rang out, “should tell Remus to keep you on edge for a fucking hour and not let you come at the end of it. See how you like it.”

“What’s the matter, Rosier?” Sirius heard himself mock as he pulled himself from Barty’s embrace and walked toward James, wrapping his arms around the boy's waist and setting his chin on James’ shoulder as he batted his long dark lashes at Rosier, who seethed at the mocking pout as Sirius turned his words against him, “All pent up? Poor little thing, all that blood boiling up and no place to go. Trapped just beneath the surface.”

Rosier scowled as Remus tilted his head back and a boisterous laugh echoed against the trees. “You gonna help him let it out, Starlight?”

Rosier’s eyes narrowed at the other boys as he backed into a tree, lingering on his boyfriend. Sirius didn’t need to look behind him to see the feral smile plastered across Barty’s face; he could feel it—hear it as the fiend declared, “Well, I’m certainly not going to.”

Remus whispered something unintelligible to a frowning Regulus, who had stiffened in his arms, and Sirius mirrored his brother’s expression.

His brother had a small flicker of an unnatural green in his eyes, and though Barty’s words echoed in his ears, his heart hammered against his chest at the thought of crossing a boundary.

The harsh lines faded into crinkling mirth as Regulus walked behind James, whispering to Sirius behind the boy's back, “If your cock goes anywhere near him, I’ll cut it off, and you’ll be nothing more than a set of holes.”

Sirius swallowed thickly, and Regulus peeked over his shoulder at Barty, reaching out his hand to brush against the grooves of Sirius’ palms, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “That being said, I’m sure you can find other ways to help Evan with his—predicament.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, searching for any hesitation or discomfort, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Regulus smiled, brushing his lips against Sirius’ for a modest kiss, “I’m sure.”

“You’re not gonna give me the same warning?” James teased as he craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Regulus.

“Do I need to?” Regulus asked, arching a perfectly sculpted brow.

James shook his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter as Regulus turned on his heel and walked back into Remus’ arms.

“Come along, Crouch,” Remus said, pushing forward toward the snake, guiding Regulus by the neck with a steady palm, “We have a court to set up.”

“Remember what I said, Black.” Barty warned as he turned to follow the pair deeper into the forest.

“Well,” James said, retrieving the mahogany from his back pocket, “now that we’re alone, I think we should have some fun, don’t you, Bunbun?”

“Piss off, Potter,” Rosier muttered, fists clenching at his sides and a flicker of fear flashing within sky blue irises at the sight of James’ wand.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Bunbun,” Sirius goaded, detaching himself from James to stalk his prey, “We just want to play a little game.”

“What kind of game?” Rosier asked, lips twitching subtly, and Sirius could almost taste the intrigue.

“Hare and Hounds,” Sirius smirked as he approached, resting an itching palm against the bark next to Rosier’s head, leaning in to get a good sniff.

“You think you could catch me, Black?” Rosier challenged.

“You’re no match for Padfoot, Rosier,” Sirius said confidently.

“We’ll see about that,” Rosier smirked, quickly transforming into a snowy white hare shooting like a bat out of Hell into the forest.

Sirius glanced at James, who offered a mirthful “Get 'im,” and suddenly he was on padded feet racing after the bundle of fur already yards ahead of him.

♜♞♛♚♞♜

Leaping over the large fallen tree, Padfoot sprinted through the forest, the smell of rosewood and citrus flowers leading his nose as he stumbled on a familiar clearing. A small white patch stood out in the sea of green, and Padfoot raced toward it, not bothering to acknowledge the three boys measuring out the croquet courts to the Red Queen's exact specifications.

The snowy hare skidded across the grass floor, curving to the left and deeper into the forest, and Padfoot stopped just past the inner edge of the woods as he lost sight of the wee bunny.

A breeze flew through, kicking up the leaves and disorienting him as he aimed to sniff out his lunch, but once it died down, Padfoot put his nose to the ground, breathing in the fragrance of his prey among the autumn graveyard. Like a fish on a lure, the hound felt the tether pull toward his catch, and he could sense he was gaining on the rabbit as the scent grew stronger.

His snout led him toward a small burrow, and he felt the dirt walls cinch around his head as Padfoot attempted to capture the hare, but it was no use. His skull was far too large, and his jaws couldn’t open wide enough to grab onto Bunbun without harming him.

Padfoot began scraping away at the dirt, expanding the burrow to accommodate him until finally he was able to wrap his teeth around the small head of the rabbit and drag him out.

His paws pinned the snowdrop hare to the forest floor as he adjusted his hold, carefully clamping the scruff of Bunbun’s neck and trotting off victoriously to return to James, eager to show off his catch.

♜♞♛♚♞♜

As Padfoot arrived back toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he noted James had not been idle while he was on the hunt.

A large fallen tree had been transfigured into a beautiful dining table long enough to fit at least twelve guests, and James was just working on the finishing touches of a final chair when his head snapped up as he heard Padfoot approach.

A sharp, sporty grin lifted the side of his face, and James finished his work before sitting down, beckoning Padfoot toward him.

“Good boy,” James praised as he scratched behind Padfoot’s ears.

Bunbun had been docile until James tried to grab hold of him, and suddenly he was beating James’ forearms with his long hind feet in a desperate attempt to flee, but James managed to lift him from under his arms and plop him on the table.

Rosier appeared where the snowy hair had once sat, and James’ hands glided down his rib cage, past his hips and thighs toward the crook of his knees.

In one fluid motion, James stood against the edge of the table as he tugged upward, forcing Rosier onto his back—a dizzy head slamming against the magically transformed wood.

“Did you have fun?” James asked, smirking as Rosier and Sirius gave conflicting answers, “I think Padfoot deserves a treat, don’t you?”

Rosier snarled but made no move to escape as James unclasped the boy's belt and trousers, shoving the material down and revealing a half-hard cock glistening with sweat from the previous game.

Sirius sauntered over, lifting his shirt to wipe the beaded sweat from his face, then ducked under Rosier’s trouser-bound ankles, settling himself in the chair as he pulled the boy closer to him.

“You ever seen Sirius eat?” James asked, plopping himself on the table next to Rosier, tracing the bridge of his nose up toward the creased lines of the pink-tinged forehead.

Rosier remained silent, though his thighs twitched at the proximity of Sirius’s mouth and promise of the release he was so wrongly denied. James scooted on his arse and curled his left leg, extending it to the other side of Rosier’s so his chest was to the boy's back.

“Practically inhales his food. Doesn’t even bother to chew.” James continued, “How ‘bout it, Sirius? How long do you think it would take you to ruin him?”

“With how keyed up he is?” Sirius purred, observing the deep reds and blues along the pale thigh. “Less than sixty seconds.”

“Make it forty-five, and I’ll give you another treat,” James promised against Rosier’s neck.

Sirius’ bright eyes flickered from James to Rosier, and he wondered if Rosier felt the same intense thrum of excitement racing through his veins as he taunted and baited Sirius time and time again. Sirius noted a mixture of reluctant lust, morbid curiosity, and heady fear swirl in Rosier’s features, and a desire to give the boy what he dished out time and time again was too delicious to ignore.

“You’re on,” Sirius grinned, looking back toward his partner in crime waiting for his cue.

James leaned over Rosier, folding the boy in half as he rummaged through the pockets of the trousers behind Sirius’ head, and produced a silver pocket watch.

“You ready?” James asked Sirius, and he nodded once, lowering his eyes to the now fully hardened cock weeping with anticipation, “Go!”

Sirius was off in a flash, devouring Rosier whole in one go. Head bobbing up and down, working the boy into an overstimulated frenzy. The sounds of Rosier’s moans were barely audible over the gags as Sirius forced the long, thin hardness past the back of his throat over and over and over again. His tongue coating the electric underside of the velvety length with slick, thick saliva. A hand tugged harshly at Sirius’ scalp, begging him to slow down, but it was quickly removed by James, and as Sirius glanced up, he watched Rosier tugging at the untamed locks behind him.

Curses sprouted from the abused rose as Sirius maintained a quick pace, offering the boy no reprieve and no mercy.

Thick, strong thighs clenched around Sirius’ cheeks, offering him limited mobility, and Sirius weaved his arms in between the small gap by his neck, prying them open for better access.

In the nick of time, Sirius felt the cock twitch against his tongue, and he doubled down, engulfing Rosier to the base, feeling the fullness in his cheeks as he swallowed once, twice, thrice until Rosier was spilling down his throat in hot spurts to the tune of an agonizing groan.

Sirius licked his lips and gathered the excess of Rosier’s spend that gathered in the corners as he heard the commanding voice of the Red Queen in the distance. Three wide-eyed boys paused and spotted her over the hill, quickly collecting their wits and fixing their clothes to feign innocence lest she catch them slacking on the job. 

As Lily approached, she appraised the work James had done, and upon finding it adequate, she hummed in approval.

Regulus, Remus, and Barty approached from the meadow and met the others awaiting their next orders, but Lily dismissed them with a lackadaisical wave. However, just as the boys thought they were free and clear, her eyes raked over Evan, and she paused his retreat with a firm hand, whispering as she lowered her eyes and slowly lifted them to meet Evan’s bright blue gaze with a wicked grin, “Your fly is undone.”

Sure enough, the nickeled mouth was opened wide, flashing unclamped teeth and revealing dark red briefs to Sirius’ wandering eyes.

“Let me guess,” Lily purred, fingering James’ craftsmanship as her blood-red nails scratched along the wooden table, “James did all the work while you two played.”

Sirius captured the zipper's tongue between his finger and thumb, tugging it up as he retorted, “I’d say I put in my fair share of work, didn’t I, Bunbun?”

“Not nearly enough to accept that godforsaken moniker,” Evan huffed, rolling his eyes, and Sirius could have sworn he saw a glimmer of affection trapped under thawing icy blues.

“I think you secretly like it,” Sirius teased.

“Could have been worse,” Evan shrugged, a mean smile working its way to the corner of his mouth, “Could have been Wormtail.”

Sirius gasped with mock horror, “You take that back. Wormtail is a prestigious name.”

“Whatever you say, Black.” Evan said, wrapping his arm around Sirius’ shoulder and guiding him back toward the castle, “Whatever you say.”