Disclaimer: obviously I am not J.K. Rowling, and though I'm using her characters and settings without express permission, I'd like to think she appreciates her little army of fic writers, even when we make all of her great characters screw CONSTANTLY. Ahem. I am not writing for profit. Please don't sue me.
This story is MWPP-era, should be canon (please let me know if it isn't), and is set in the boys' sixth year. Contains some smut, some slash, all that good stuff. Now, without further delay, I give you…
Padfoot & Prongs
To Sirius Black, there was no one in the world quite like James Potter.
He remembered sharing a compartment with him on that first ride on the Hogwarts Express, sharing Chocolate Frogs and laughing about everything and nothing. He remembered that great fear- like ice that wouldn't melt- sitting heavily in his stomach when they climbed into those little boats and sailed up to Hogwarts. Would he, a Black, be put in Slytherin as his parents had hoped? James had joined him in fervent muttering- to whom they were muttering, neither boy knew- as they waited to be let into the Great Hall: Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin. James wasn't worried for himself; he knew he'd be a Gryffindor as surely as he had known he'd go to Hogwarts. He muttered only for the sake of Sirius. And when the Hat cried out "Gryffindor!" from atop Sirius' head, James had let out a little cry of joy that made everyone at the Gryffindor table laugh. No one was surprised to see the Potter boy join the group, or to see him plop down heavily beside Sirius and sling an arm around his shoulders, crying, "I knew it, Sirius! I knew you were all right!" Sirius remember later that night, as a storm that had begun raging outside during supper howled and beat at the dormitory windows, how James had opened Sirius' curtains just an inch and whispered, "Sirius? Are you awake?" James hated storms back then, and he had never spent a night away from his parents before. Sirius didn't mind. He let James sit in the safety of his curtained four-poster bed and they talked heatedly about Quidditch until at some point they had both dozed off. And in the morning Sirius had woken to his curtains flinging open and James shouting, "Come on, Sirius, you act like you were up all night!"
Had it really been five years since then? Sirius rubbed his eyes and pulled the blankets close around him. It was late afternoon, so why had he been allowed to sleep in so late? His mother's voice was ringing out downstairs; no doubt she was bossing the house elf, not that Kreacher would mind in the least. Stupid beast. Sirius grinned to himself. Did any of it matter, though? Today was his last day at home until next summer. Tomorrow he'd be climbing aboard the Hogwarts Express once more, clapping his buddies Moony and Wormtail on the back…and most importantly of all, seeing James again. Sirius closed his eyes as tightly as possible. Maybe if he just went back to sleep, he could skip this day entirely and go straight on in to tomorrow.
Unfortunately that wasn't meant to be. Sirius was made to get up and wash, as his mother fussed over the state of his room and "those god-awful Gryffindor hangings you insist on putting everywhere". She picked out one of his nicer suits, lamenting over the broadness of his shoulders and the too-short hem of his pants. A private tailor was called in to let out his suit jacket and fit him a new pair of pants. And then Sirius was supervised as he packed, and lectured to by his father about the sort of company he kept and the reflection his choices had on the Black family. By the time it was all through it was time for dinner with some stuffy, pompous old man of "good, pure Wizarding stock" who bored him to tears with lectures about how things should be run at Hogwarts and what he expected the trends at Gringotts meant and one thousand other terrible, yawn-inducing things that carried them well past dessert and into after-dinner tea. At long last, when the old man showed no sign of letting up and Sirius showed every sign of being bored to tears, his parents excused him from the table, insisting to their guest that he needed his rest for his trip to school the next day.
Sirius dashed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He flung open the door, flew to the desk and quickly jotted a short note to James about his idiotic dinner guest, hoping for a laugh. I can't wait to see you, he added at the bottom, and he admired his careful scrawl for a moment before rolling the note up and tying it to the foot of his waiting owl (who didn't seem keen on the idea of going out so late, and with such an early morning). He let the owl out and sat down on the foot of his bed, staring out the window. He hated Grimmauld Place. It wasn't home to him. Tomorrow, however, he'd be going home at last. He could barely stand the wait.