eight

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Seven years later.

Sirius Black held his drink close to his face as he scanned the crowd with dilated eyes. His black skinny jeans were too tight for his legs and somewhat-slight-erection that couldn't be avoided at a place like this. His black t-shirt was sweaty and wet from spilt drinks and other substances, and his mind was a whirlpool of intoxicated thoughts and over-active heart beats. The bass of the electronica blasting from the speakers. The spilt drinks on the bar top spilt onto the floor; no one came to clean it. Rosemerta's, the bar Sirius had grown up in, with his best friend James Potter by his side, had been turned into a club-like-atmosphere for Saturday and Friday nights, and Sirius always made sure he came.

Now, though, he was kind of alone, and the door was opening every second, admitting several bodies into the already packed room every minute. Their pants were all tight, their eyes rounded by glittery black liner, their shirts all damp and their hair all messy. Sirius was just another one of them in a sea of them.

He had been waiting hours, taking intervals between watching people grind against each other and chatting to Rosemerta to occupy the time. He didn't know what he was waiting for, but he did when the door swung open and in walked the prettiest boy he had ever seen.

''Fuck,'' Sirius said to himself, his eyes glued to the boy's body. He certainly wasn't wearing any tight black pants, or and leather clothing, or glittery black eyeliner, or damp shirts and messy hair. He was wearing a dark green t-shirt, his skinny jeans tight by not as tight as Sirius' who watched intently as the boy moved across the dance floor to get to a group of people Sirius didn't recognize. This boy, with messy caramel hair and honey-gold eyes, with his awkward blue jeans and those clean brown combat boots, was suddenly the new reason of Sirius' being here. He smirked into his cup of beer. He was so going to talk to him tonight.

Sirius' eyes scanned the crowd again. James was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago, dammit. He could see the outlines of people walking past the doorway of Rosemerta's, the lantern-lit streets silhouetting the late night club-goers. It was a Saturday, and James Potter was expected to be late, but he had never been late like this. It was probably because of Lily, Sirius mused, that James' arrival had been delayed so much.

As soon as Sirius thought this, however the door swung open again, admitting a cloud of light and smells into the crowded, sweaty room. The door swung back into place a second later, and standing in the entryway was James Potter, with his messy, dark hair, his deep brown eyes, and that money-coated smile that could take a room its hand and shake it. Sirius watched as James flashed a charming smile towards Rosemerta before he turned to his best friend, his smile changing into a smirk.

''Hey, Padfoot, mate.'' He said, running a hand through his already messy hair. ''Sorry I kept you waiting for so long.'' James apologized, and Sirius shrugged as his best friend sat down in the booth next to where Sirius was standing.

''No stress,'' Sirius told him, his eyes still on the boy across the room. ''I was occupied.''

James laughed, his eyes crinkled with humor as his smile stretched across his god-like face. ''That kid? I thought you don't date brown-haired boys.'' He said, and Sirius glared at him half-heartedly.

''That was in high school, when he was still relevant and no other boys were attractive enough to consider.'' Sirius told him, the pretty boy still holding his gaze, even though he technically wasn't looking at Sirius. ''But now, there are new boys, and Ii haven't seen Remus in seven years, so what does it matter if I stare?''

''You, my friend, are a man-whore.'' James said, his eyes still holding that amused look in them. ''Why don't you just go talk to him?''

Sirius snorted a laugh. ''Like I'm going to talk to him. He's probably here with some girl that he's been with since he was sixteen.''

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