Two days later, James decided that walking to the loo was indeed a much more dangerous activity than he had, until then, been giving it credit for.

It had struck him as very odd and exasperating that nobody heard him screaming bloody murder all the way across the seven feet between the place he had been abducted and thrown over a shoulder, and the room where said shoulder had unceremoniously dumped him.

Gasping like a fish out of water, James crawled to the door that had swung shut with an ominous, resonating boom and clawed at it desperately.

"No talking," James sobbed, face sliding down the cold rock and causing his cheek to collide with his bottom eyelid and his glasses to dangle from his ear, "Please, please no talking."

A shadow slowly crept up in front of him, engulfing him from head to toe in a darkness that spoke of impending doom.

"You have something on your nose," the shadow's caster pointed accusingly at the cowering heap that was James.

"I will die," James whispered, arms spread out in an attempt to hug the cold stone surface, "I will die, and it will be gruesome, so please, inanimate objects and stone walls, close your eyes, I wish not to scar you."

"Shut up. Merlin, you're such a drama queen. Listen," Sirius' face was suddenly in his and Sirius was crouching down and dangling James by the collar of his shirt. "You hid Peter from me, didn't you?"

James gurgled in response and Sirius let go of him with an exasperated sigh. James rubbed the back of his neck, staring at Sirius, before he cleared his throat. "Yeah, I did. And I'd do it again."

James considered this, cocking his head. "Well no, actually."

Sirius simply scowled at him.

James watched Sirius carefully as he got to his feet. "Ah, listen ... you're ... this is insane. You know that, right? It needs to end, Padfoot."

Sirius looked lost and child-like in his misery, and James winced sympathetically, secretly wondering if he looked like this before he had started dating Lily. Or correction—Lily started dating him. He'd been mentally dating her since fourth year. In any case, he was relieved that his face no longer resembled that of a whipped puppy, even more so because he was certain that he probably hadn't managed to pull it off with Sirius' finesse.

"Look, Sirius, why don't you just tell him?" James suggested, rotating his neck to get out the crick in it.

Sirius crossed his arms and laughed hollowly. "Smashing idea James, I'm sure it would follow through magnificently. Morning Remus, I'm bloody gay and I want to suck your face. And possibly other things, while we're at it—"

"—Alright," James interrupted loudly, and Sirius fell silent, kicking moodily at a pebble on the ground. James hadn't failed to notice that it was the first time he had heard Sirius openly acknowledge his sexuality and the current object of its interest. That, according to James, was far more than a single step on the proverbial staircase of Getting Somewhere. Once Sirius had reached acceptance, action would be soon to follow. It was only a matter of time, ranging from three seconds to two weeks, before he would Do Something About It. Facts, for Sirius, were not meant for filing away and storing in his mind. He saw them as mildly provoking jibes, and Sirius did not like being provoked or jibed upon. His theory was that facts, as a rule, ought to be either actively put to use or at least tested for their truth. This particular logic of Sirius' was now turning out to be advantageous for James. It was a fact that Sirius fancied Remus. It would soon be put to test.

Or so he thought. Sirius, hands buried in trench coat (trench coat? Where had Sirius been to at eight in the fucking morning?) pockets, glared darkly at the floor. "I'm not telling him Prongs. I refuse to throw away whatever progress we've made in the past years ever since ... it."

"It" being That Horrifying Time Sirius Told Snape About Remus's Lycanthropy. The queasiness was creeping back into James's stomach and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Sirius looked pained.

"Well," James said slowly, "He's forgiven you for that. Completely. Or else he'd still be ignoring you, and you know Moony cold-shoulders like a bitch."

Sirius shuddered at the memory.

"And anyway," James reasoned, "If you do snog him, well, you've done worse to him before, really. You molest him on a daily basis, and he forgives you every time."

"Thank you, Prongs," Sirius snapped. "I don't molest him. And I'd have to apologize for him to forgive me, and I don't, ergo, no apologies are involved in any of our regular, platonic exchanges. Besides, there's a difference between forgiveness and tolerance. He'd forgive me, sure, but I doubt he'd stick around if he knew that there's a nutter ogling his arse every time he walks down the hall."

James considered what Sirius was saying, leaning his back against the stone wall behind him. Sirius smiled humorlessly. "Come on mate, would you, if you were in his place?"

Sirius's voice held a challenge. James rubbed the end of his nose. "Would I what?"

"Stick around."

"'Course I would Padfoot, you're my best mate. I can't believe you're making me say this—no, I would in fact not dump you for being queer."

"Even if you knew that I wanted to snog the daylights out of you?"

"Ta, Padfoot."

"And that I want to shower you with heaps of rose petals?"

"I prefer lilies. Do you really though? Want to shower him with rose petals?" James asked in fascination.

Sirius ignored him and pressed on. "And that I want to stick certain parts of my anatomy up—"

"—Point noted, Padfoot," James rolled his eyes. "And to answer your question, no, I frankly wouldn't care. As long as you don't peek while I'm in the shower." Here, James shuddered.

"Come now, I'm a perfect gentleman, you know that," Sirius chided him.

A smile flickered over James' face and then vanished, a contemplative look settling in its place. They had been conversing for five minutes straight without fidgeting or screaming or displaying generally immature behavior in the name of discomfort. In fact, it felt almost normal, as if they were talking about the upcoming Quidditch match, or Ednis Connley's fifteen ugly cats, or the fluffy pink tail they'd manage to give Snape last week. This was a startling revelation for James, and in the midst of all the insanity that had been prevailing this past week, James realized that perhaps he was getting a hang of this 'growing up concept that Lily had insisted he start working on. He felt mature, almost, because nothing could faze him now, not even if Snivellus were to burst into the room wearing a garland of flowers and start to tap-dance.

The voice of reason in his head was pointing accusingly at the other half of his mind that was in stitches at the image of Snape wearing a garland of flowers and tap-dancing, obviously protesting against the last claim that he was anywhere close to being mature, and James, snorting to himself, had to agree.

"You're doing it again," Sirius cut in wearily.

James blinked. "Doing what?"

"Talking to yourself. Making faces."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Padfoot," James insisted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Be a man and go 'fess up."

Sirius scowled. "You're going to go back to harping on that?"

"Well, what did you think I was going to do, offer you tea?" James said in exasperation. "Might I take this moment to point out that you brought me here."

Sirius shrugged. "Sugar rush. And besides, it's fun scaring you shitless. You sound like a banshee when you scream. Gods it's funny."

"You're not going to listen to me, are you," James glared.

Sirius tapped a finger to his lips. "Er. No."

"Fine," James snapped, patience finally exhausted. "Be a coward about it. Mope around all the time. Cry when he gets married and knocks up a girl and has kids. Drown in your miserable tears for all I care, just stop harassing Peter and Lily, they don't need a mad nutter like you harassing them at their every waking minute."

Sirius glowered at James as he stormed to the door, yanking it open. His upper lip curled as James disappeared around the corner and then he suddenly called out, "I'm not going to bloody cry. And there's no need to be such an effing snot about it, I swear, you're acting like you did that time I killed your pigeon."

"IT WAS A CANARY," came James's yell from the other side of the door, followed by an almighty slam as James yanked it shut. Sirius's eyes shot daggers at it for a long time before he scowled and kicked the wall.

"Fuck James and his bloody pigeon," Sirius growled.

Sirius, contrary to popular belief, was a rather self-aware individual. He knew he was an enormous flirt. He tended to act recklessly when he got caught up in the thrill of the moment. He was inconsiderate and rather rude to people in general. He messed up a lot on a daily basis. He slept with his socks on. He was probably some kind of gay.

Sirius Black was a lot of things. But "coward" wasn't one of them.