A/N: This is a Harry Potter fanfiction that I wrote for a friend. Sirius/James isn't a pairing I am much into, but I liked this and hope you like it too.

Miss You, James

Sirius Black gazed down at The Prophet, yellow and ripped with age. It was one of the few comforts he was allowed in the soul swallowing prison and the wrongly imprisoned man clung to it as if it were his very life.

The man's cell was filled with stacks of the wizarding newspaper, collected since his imprisonment twelve years previous. Even though he had a dozen years worth of The Daily Prophet there was one issue that he looked at every day. This issue was the most meaningful, holding both pain and joy.

Three sets of hands waved up at him (one a small, lumbering fist), beaming faces and sparkling eyes; the picture of perfection: the perfect family, the perfect friends, the perfect godson, and even the perfect lover. It was something that was never spoken of, shameful and secretive. "A drunken romp," James had stated the one time they had spoken of the cold, snowy December night. They hadn't been drunk, he had wanted to argue, but rather just a little buzzed. Sirius had known that James would have made another excuse so he had not pressed the issue.

The prisoner's thoughts stumbled back to that night, so long ago. It had been the start of winter break of their sixth year and the Griffindor dorms were deserted except for James and himself. Together they had scored a number of bottles of firewhiskey at the Hog's Head, a far more lenient place than the The Three Broomsticks, but neither got past their first bottles. Unless James was an incredible lightweight, Sirius always thought wryly, there was no way he was smashed enough to not realize with whom he was making out.

Sirius had dated a few girls before, girls he had thought were pretty with hair that he liked to run his hands through, but whenever it got to kissing or maybe more than kissing, he would back out and dump the poor girl. He never got his reputation as a heartbreaker by being cruel or easy, but rather, he was confused. It was that year he realized why he had no true interest in girls. He was in love with his best friend.

He remembered taking a swig of the burning alcohol to summon his courage and then leaning in towards his friend. James had looked up from his own bottle, confusion in his hazel eyes.

"James," he had breathed out, "can I be honest-to-Merlin's-beard honest with you?"

"Yeah, of course, Padfoot! You're my best friend, you can tell me anything!"

With the following grin and slap on the back, Sirius smiled and felt more comfortable as he settled back in his overstuffed chair.

"Okay," he took a fortifying breath, "I'm in love with you," and with that said, he leaned back in and placed a kiss on James' lips. He had expected everything except for what happened. James began to kiss back. Tugging on Sirius' long hair, James had pulled himself into the other boy's lap. Hot, naked skin pressed together, tongues intertwined, the two boys shared a strange, intimate moment there on the most comfortable chair in their house dorm. A strange, intimate moment never spoken of after the break, a moment no one would ever hear of, no one would know of the way James had clutched Sirius' hair as they kissed or the way Sirius had slid inside of his best friend, fucking him until tears of pain and pleasure were in both of their eyes. The pleasure of having something Sirius had wanted for so long, even if he hadn't known for a while, and pain at what he knew he couldn't keep.

At first, Sirius was mad. Mad at himself, mad at James, mad at everything. How could James do that to him; accept the kiss and make love to Sirius with as much fervor and passion as Sirius had dreamed about? How could Sirius do that to himself; allow himself a taste of love and then force himself to deny it later? How could the world be so cruel? After break, James had pursued Lily with more intensity than ever before. Lily accepted the advances.

Then came the jealousy. Sirius had been truly happy for James and Lily, even if his own love for his best friend grew every day, week, month, and year. He was jealous too, jealous that they got married and had a cute-as-a-button son, Harry.

He accepted it. Sirius was as much of a part as the family as he could be and he couldn't have been happier. Receiving the love that he had been starved of as a child, he realized that he'd rather be James best friend than have nothing to do with him at all.

Then the grief of the loss of his best friend and first and only love arrived. This arrived along with him imprisonment.

His vision cleared and he whimpered down at the spots of water soaking into the aged paper. Folding the paper, he placed it back at the top of its stack and curled up on his threadbare cot. A Dementor floated by, the folds of their dark, tattered cloaks billowing in the chill air. Sirius rolled to face away from the creature towards the brick wall as the cold depression pressed down on him. Another whimper rose from his throat as he cringed and, as he did on many nights, turned into Padfoot. At the flash of magic the Dementor turned its eyeless face to his cell, but soon continued past. Through the depression and despair, a glimmer of hope flashed inside of him. He would no longer be a prisoner to despair and old memories.