All the Young Dudes ( Sirius' Perspective )

Seventh Year : Valentine's Day 1978

I’d like for you and I to go romancing

Say the word, your wish is my command

Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy

What’re you doin’ tonight, hey boy?

 

Tuesday 14th February 1978

James

 

6:30 AM

“Pssst—oi, Padfoot!”

James stood outside Sirius’s bed curtains, whispering. Normally, he might just tear the velvet hangings back so that he could shake the boy awake—but of course, that was no longer an option.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up,” Sirius whispered, head poking out. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, curtains parting as he stood. James caught a brief glimpse of sandy curls spread across the pillows, and he glanced away, quickly.

It wasn’t that he minded, exactly—of course not! By now, he was used to Remus and Sirius sharing a bed, and quite aware that they probably did…other things, as well. And that was fine! It was all perfectly fine. James supported them, one hundred percent.

It had been a bit of a shock, though, at first. Remus…Remus had sort of made sense, but Sirius? More than anything else, James was upset that he hadn’t noticed; that he’d been oblivious for so long. It had just…never occurred to him as something in the realm of possibility, that Sirius Black might be—whatever he was. And to find out that they were together—had been together for months?

Well, it took a bit of getting used to.

But this morning, of course, James had other things to worry about. He couldn’t stop himself fretting as they snuck down to the Great Hall, leaving Peter and Remus asleep in their dorm.

“Think there’s going to be enough room?” James glanced around the empty Hall, anxiously. “Don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“They’re floral fireworks,” Sirius rolled his eyes, “No one’s getting hurt unless they’re severely allergic.”

“Bugger, I hadn’t even thought about allergies!”

Sirius gave him a look. “Merlin, don’t tell me you’re going to change your mind now, not after you dragged me out of bed at this ungodly hour.”

“I’m not, I’m not…come on, let’s do it, then.”

He didn’t mean to fret. He knew how hard Sirius had worked to help him; knew that they’d gotten everything right; knew that it should all go off without a hitch. But he just…needed to make sure it was perfect. He was James Potter, after all; it was what everyone expected of him.

Sometimes, it made James feel like a fraud. The confidence had come naturally, when he was younger—when the world felt like one big adventure, just waiting to be conquered, and he thought himself the storybook hero. He’d enjoyed having people look to him, praise him, admire him. After all, hadn’t he earned it?