All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Seventh Year : Christmas ( Part 1 )

“Padfoot?”

“Prongs.”

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Merlin!” Sirius nearly dropped the joint as James passed it to him, laughing, “You’re in a mood!”

“I’m serious!”

“That’s funny, I thought I was—”

“I will push you off this tower, Pads, don’t make me do it.”

Sirius grinned, but decided not to push his luck. They were perched on one of the windows of the Astronomy tower, sitting side by side on the sill, watching snow fall from the sky. After months of begging, pleading, and cajoling, Sirius had finally managed to corner Potter into smoking a spliff after winning a bet—it may or may not have been rigged, but what James didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“You’re going to make me regret corrupting you, if this is how you’re acting after a few hits.”

James laughed, but didn’t reply, waiting patiently for him to respond. Sirius sighed, sucking smoke into his lungs and holding it, exhaling slowly.

“Soulmates?” he passed the joint back to James, scratching his head. “I dunno. Never really thought about it, I guess.”

James hummed, and Sirius glanced over, watching him take a shallow puff—he could at least do it without coughing, now.

“Do you?”

James nodded, looking up at the sky. Sirius swallowed.

“Oh.”

James inhaled, again, and then passed the spliff back to Sirius. It was almost burnt out—one or two hits left, at most.

“You all thought I was crazy,” he murmured, and it took Sirius a moment to process the words. “I think sometimes I thought I was, too.”

Sirius took one last hit off the joint, then dropped the dying stub off the side of the tower, listening to James speak.

“I couldn’t understand it—why I’d look at her and just feel right. Like I was at home. It drove me mental, sometimes. She’d tell me over and over again that she couldn’t stand me, and I still just…couldn’t get her out of my head. Couldn’t get away from it. I just kept coming back to her, every time; it didn’t make sense, but it was also, like…the only thing that made sense. D’you know what I mean?”

Sirius swallowed. Yes, he thought, I know what you mean.

James laughed, breathless and happy, head lolling back on his shoulders. “Sorry,” he mumbled, “You’re right, I’m just—in a mood. I just…” he paused, for a moment, searching for words, “I can’t believe it’s real, sometimes. I look at her, and I’m so happy that I can’t breathe. And—and it makes me feel like shit, because…there’s a bloody war on, and people are dying, and my parents are—” he broke off shaking his head. “And I’m just…waking up every day, feeling like I could fly to the fucking moon on my Nimbus.”

Sirius laughed. He couldn’t help it—James Potter, Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, high and expounding on the finer points of love. It was so ridiculous. It was so James.