Just something I've been writing that I decided was far too long to put up in a single post. So, I've decided to post it in chapter form! :D

Title: Don't Kid Yourself

Rating: M

Pairings: James/OMC, James/Lily, Sirius/OMC, one-sided James/Sirius

Warnings: Slash, man sex, straight sixth year Gryffindors shagging Slytherin blokes, blatant misuse of British words, Sirius being a prat, James being a prat, the Marauders being prats . . . And I think that's it . . .

Sirius Black, as far as James Potter is concerned, is the world's biggest fucking arsehole.

James slams Sirius against the tile before a word can leave that stupid fucking mouth of his. His head bounces off the wall with a sharp crack, but James can't find it in himself to care.

"The hell, Prongs–"

"Where. Were. You?" James grits. He gives Sirius a stiff shake for good measure. "Where the fuck were you?"

"Look, I know you're sore, mate, but–"

"'But' what? What the fuck is more important than the fucking Cup, man?"

A sleazy grin splits Sirius' face, and soon, James knows. He knows, and he can't fucking believe it.

He spits in disbelief, "You randy shit!" He shoves Sirius away and turns on his heel, throwing his hands up in a rage.

And Sirius, Sirius fucking laughs.

"Oh, c'mon! You have no fucking idea just how–"

"I don't want to know just how big her tits were or how fucking tight her twat was."

Sirius waves his hand as if to dismiss the idea. "No, no! Mate, you will not believe this!"

"You're fucking right I don't believe it! You figured that having off with some bird was more important than the fucking Quidditch Cup!"

"That's just it!"

James brow furrows. "What is?"

Sirius' eyes shine brightly. Sweat beads along his brow. His ears take a heavy red colour. Something isn't right.

"What is?"

"It wasn't a bird, Prongs," Sirius says in a rush, "It wasn't . . . wasn't . . ." His words drown into nonsensical muttering.

James feels his jaw slacken.

"What . . . Mate, what are you . . ."

"I'm not saying I'm bent, Prongs, I'm not, because I'm not bent, Prongs, I'm not. But . . . But . . ."

"But?"

Sirius' breathing evens; a flush overtakes his face. He looks . . . looks . . . gone. Just . . . not there. Somewhere else. Somewhere far. It doesn't make much sense, but . . . it does.

It doesn't sit well with James' stomach.

James doesn't hear what Sirius says. A part of him doesn't want to hear it. A part of him . . . a part of him wants to know, wants to know what did this to him.

"That's him over there," Sirius whispers, close too close.

It takes James a moment to realize what his friend is talking about. The second he does, his eyes dart to where Sirius' finger points across the Great Hall.

"A Slytherin?" James almost laughs. "Don't you have any class?"

"Shut up."

"What're you two talking about?" comes Remus' voice, incredulous and hoarse. James jerks as Remus slides into the seat next him, Peter taking the seat across.

"Nothing," Sirius mutters, lowering his hand.

"Looked like you were pointing at the Slytherins," Peter says. There's an eagerness in his voice that fills James with satisfaction. "You have something planned for them, yeah?"

Sirius grins and snatches a banger before Peter's fork can pierce it. James sniggers at Peter's distress. "Not right now, Wormy," he says, ignoring the look that crosses Remus' face. "Maybe later, but not now."

There's an alternate meaning to what Sirius says, but James doesn't catch it until too late.

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