A/N: Wh-another one? Already?

...Someone ask for a Joliver romance? :D

Enjoy!

Chapter 33: James

Sunday, 22 March 2026

James woke up, feeling stiff after the previous day's game against the Tutshill Tornados – a game that had been one of the longest ones that season, but a game the Magpies had won with a brilliant score.

The Magpies had only three matches left, one before Easter, and two after the Easter break. Then the season would end, and James had a short vacation until the training with the English National team would start on the second week of May.

The Magpies were leading the league table with only thirty points against their closest rival, Holyhead Harpies. Puddlemere United had risen to third place after taking victory against Crimson Warhawks on Friday. Naturally, James was hoping the Magpies would win the league once again, as they had done for a couple of years in a row, but this year James wasn't really obsessing about it. He was more than happy about the change or course he had taken in his life in the beginning of the year, and that alone made him feel like he had already won. Of course, that feeling only applied to the league, and not the upcoming World Cup, which still managed to make him more nauseous the more he thought about it.

He knew there was no use of worrying about the tournament, as long as he kept his head down and did his best. Still, it was nerve-wracking, knowing that he would be on display for the whole wizarding world. If he played poorly, it could mean the end of his career, depending on how badly he managed to bollocks it up. Then again, if their team succeeded – if he even dared to think about reaching all the way to finals – he would be pulled into a media frenzy, unable to live a normal life for the foreseeable future.

It wasn't like he had ever lived a normal life, being the saviour's son and a professional Quidditch player in one of the highest ranked teams in the British and Irish Quidditch League.

James groaned, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes and forcing away the uneasy thoughts. It was his day off, which meant that he would enjoy his slow morning and then go for a run with Oliver.

They had seen each other at least once every week, always running together, either on their days off or before their practices would start. James reckoned everything was going along smoothly. Their conversation flowed easily, they laughed and made fun of each other like they used to do, and most importantly, James finally had his friend back. And even though he knew there was a lot that still needed to be discussed between them, he was adamant not to bodge it up this time.

"How's Marilyn doing?" James asked as they turned right in the intersection, jogging towards the Itchen Toll Bridge.

They were running in Southampton this time, on both sides of river Itchen, their five-mile route starting from Oliver's place in Ocean Village, taking them across the Toll Bridge to Itchen and after that, to Bitterne, then across the Northam bridge to Northam, and along the riverside back to Ocean Village.

Oliver chuckled. "Acting like a proper bridezilla, if you ask me…" he muttered and looked both ways as they slowed down to cross the sidewalk.

"I take it the wedding's back on again?" James asked with a smirk, gaining speed as they reached the bridge.

Oliver's sister Marilyn was two years younger than Oliver, and two years older than James. James remembered both of them from Hogwarts, but they hadn't really interacted much, seeing as they were in different houses and both Oliver and Marilyn were older than James. Oliver had started his fifth year when James had only entered Hogwarts, while Marilyn had started her third. Both Wright siblings had been in the Hufflepuff house.

Oliver groaned and shook his head slightly. "Unfortunately, yes. Michael came back crawling and somehow managed to talk her into the whole wedding deal again…"

As Oliver gave a brief explanation of the couple's situation, James grimaced. It seemed that Oliver's sister and her fiancé really weren't that suitable for each other, seeing as it was their third break-up within two years. Still, they seemed to be adamant to get married, however flimsy their bond really was.

"How's Al?" Oliver asked after a moment, glancing at James as they ran up on the bridge, nearly at the midpoint. His breathing was slightly quickened. "Driving you up the walls?"

James shrugged, thinking about his brother who was working during the weekend and seeming quite stressed out by his job. Albus had brought up – rather unenthusiastically on James's opinion – the possibility of him moving back to Winkfield a couple of times. Even though James was secretly glad that his brother, who had stayed with James for over two months, was considering moving away as it meant that James would finally get the privacy he had been craving for a while, he hadn't said anything to his brother.

He hadn't told his brother how resigned he felt every time Albus dragged Scarlett to James's flat and mysteriously forgot how to cast a silencing spell, or every time Albus forgot to clean up the items he left lying around the place, or every time Albus came home at odd hours, making noise and interrupting James's sleep as he stumbled into his room.

He hadn't said anything, because James could see that Albus was going through enough stress due to his job. Still, he couldn't deny that Albus's suggestion about moving to their parents' place in Winkfield made James feel…relieved.

"He's all right." James murmured, looking at the calming view of the river rushing and glimmering under them.

The sky was bright and clear, but the air was cool, as it was only a bit over ten degrees above freezing during the day. Still, there was a promise of spring in the slowly warming days, in the budding leaves and in the rapidly increasing length of the day.

"He's talked about moving back to Winkfield," James continued, glancing at Oliver, who was eyeing James curiously.

Oliver made a noncommittal grunt. "Well, if everyone's happy, then – good for him, I suppose?"

"I suppose," James muttered absently.

As they kept running forward, James thought about his parents, and whether Albus moving in with them was a mistake. If Lily came home for Easter, their parents would have even less time for themselves.

"…But?" Oliver prompted, expecting James to continue.

James huffed. "My parents are not exactly going steadily right now…"

Oliver hummed. "Yeah, you said something about their fight, right?" He asked, dodging to the side as they passed two women walking on the bridge, now descending towards the other end, their shoes making steady sounds against the pavement.

"I think they're better now, but yeah, my mum stayed at my uncle's place last month, and my dad was a bit of a mess because of it…"

Oliver gave him an understanding look. "It's tough to see your parents as just a regular couple, I mean, it was for me," he said and pursed his lips into a tight line, before glancing at James with a ghost of a smile on his lips. "I hope your parents make it."

James knew that Oliver's parents had divorced a year ago, and that it had been a messy break-up. They hadn't really talked about it more than that, and James wondered if it was something that was still bothering Oliver. Of course, Oliver and his sister were adults who lived on their own lives, but it seemed that it had still affected Oliver quite a lot.

He turned the conversation to Oliver's approaching career change, and asked if the other man had any news about his job at Nimbus.

Some time later, as they were nearly finished their route and reaching the last crosswalk before Ocean Village, James glanced at the watch on his wrist. "Bollocks," James murmured, frowning at the device.

Oliver lifted his brows at him, jogging across the street steadily next to James.

James gave the other man displeased look. "We've been slacking off. It's already forty-five minutes. Last time we made it to thirty-five."

He was quite aware that when running in traffic, one couldn't really compare the results. Still, ten minutes was a lot, and James – the competitive person he was – was instantly disappointed by the vast difference.

Oliver laughed loudly and then gave James an exasperated look. "Well, stop faffing about and race me home, you twat!"

With that, Oliver started to sprint towards his home, not looking back to see if James was following him.

James, of course, wasn't one to back off from a contest, and soon they were both racing along the street like their lives depended on it, breathless, grinning, each of them determined to win.

James was panting hard as he reached the front door to Oliver's townhouse first, giving his friend a victorious smirk as the other man came to the door exactly two seconds after James.

"Fucker," Oliver grunted, breathing heavily as he leant his hands against his knees, trying to steady his breath. "I bet you're pretty chuffed you won, huh?" He asked, glancing up at James, who was equally breathless.

James chuckled and propped himself against the wall until Oliver straightened, fished the keys out of his pocket and managed to open the door. He followed the other man inside.

They were both still slightly winded as they made their way upstairs to the first floor, where the kitchen and sitting room situated. James had been there several times before, mostly before the Quidditch season started and things between them got strained. He had woken up from Oliver's sitting room sofa in the morning after a pub crawl more times that he could count – even if his friend hadn't been participating in most of them. Oliver had simply been there, helping James and seeing him on his worst behaviour, how only Albus had seen James before.

And James was only starting to realise how lucky was to have had such people in his life, and how utterly foolish he had been to risk his career and life like that in his past.

In the kitchen, Oliver filled two glasses of cold water and silently handed the other one to James, before gulping down the contents of his.

James leant against a kitchen cabinet and drank as well, all the while watching Oliver who filled his glass from the tap, and drank again. Oliver was wearing a black tracksuit of some muggle brand. His hair was slightly damp, and there was sweat on his brow and neck as well. James watched, as Oliver's throat worked, and he swallowed hard as he realised that he wanted to press his lips there, right on the spot next to Oliver's Adam's apple. He put his glass on the counter next to him, feeling his pulse speeding up, even though it should've been slowing down.

Oliver's gaze found James's, and the other man took a step closer to place his own glass on the counter as well, before giving James a slightly questioning look.

The air grew tense between them, and James felt something stirring in the bottom of his stomach. He felt it spread down, towards his groin, making him feel very warm.

James slowly raised his hand, keeping his gaze trained at Oliver's, and as James's fingers grasped the front of Oliver's running jacket, the other man swallowed several times, his throat working fast. Oliver didn't resist when James started to pull him closer, but instead taking a hold of James, Oliver placed his hands against the counter, on both sides of James, while his eyes dropped down to James's lips.

There was want and hesitation in Oliver's gaze. James licked his lips, and nearly groaned when Oliver's mouth opened a bit, and when Oliver's cheeks flushed with red in reaction, evidently following closely James's movements. There was no need for words – it was clear to James that they both wanted whatever was about to happen between them.

Seconds later, James finally felt Oliver's lips brushing against his. Their kiss was tentative at first, soft lips innocently and intimately caressing each other. James let out a breathy sigh and pressed in more firmly, their kiss becoming faster and rougher, until they were snogging each other fervently, their lips sliding against each other's firmly, rubbing, licking, biting, sucking.

Wet noises and breathy groans filled the silence in the room, and James felt so good that he wanted to give up everything he had if he was able to continue what they did for as long as possible. Oliver didn't touch James with his hands, but kept them resolutely against the counter. He didn't really press against James either, which James thought was maddening as hell, as all he wanted was to feel Oliver's body against him. He wanted to feel Oliver's chest against his, Oliver's fingers grabbing him and pressing against his hips hard enough to leave a bruise. James wanted to feel Oliver's groin against his, to feel his cock…

Fuck, he was so bloody turned on, and only aching for more.

When Oliver's tongue licked against James's, James gasped, his other hand flying to Oliver's neck, while his other was still holding Oliver's jacket with a tight grip, trying in vain to drag him closer to him. Oliver stayed infuriatingly still, but allowed James to press his head closer with the hand on his neck, groaning as James continued kissing him with open-mouthed kisses and licking into Oliver's mouth, humming whenever James let out answering gasps as Oliver responded with his own tongue.

James was soon shivering with need, aching to get friction to his groin, longing for Oliver's touch. The other man still kept himself rigidly in place, even though he moaned softly every time James squeezed his neck and tried to press Oliver closer to him. At a sharp sting on James's lip, followed by a soft tongue, James let go of Oliver's jacket and quickly moved his hand to cup Oliver's cock through his track bottoms.

Oliver groaned loudly, breaking the kiss short and started to pant against James's lips, his chest rising and falling quickly, while James rubbed the other man's cock with swift moves, holding Oliver still with his other hand on his neck.

"James," Oliver gasped, looking utterly wrecked, his hips bucking towards James.

James licked his lips and leaned forward, closing the distance between them once more, kissing Oliver deeply, with brief swipes of his tongue, all the while moving his hand over Oliver's hard cock and revelling in Oliver's muffled moans.

"Fuck, we need to stop," Oliver grunted suddenly, breaking off their kiss and grabbing James's hand, moving it away from his crotch. He swallowed convulsively, staring at James with a hint of shock in his lust filled eyes as he tried to catch his breath.

James too was breathing hard, still holding Oliver by his neck. His other hand was held in a tight grip by Oliver. Oliver's cheeks were flushed, his pupils blown wide, his lips red and wet and swollen. There was also a very prominent tent in his trousers as James glanced down, matching exactly his own. A slow grin stretched James's lips. It was safe to say that that face, that look on Oliver, was what would be imprinted to the back of James's brain indefinitely.

Oliver pushed back, and James dropped his hand from the other man's neck, giving him a tentative look. "You good?" James asked quietly, trying to discreetly adjust himself in his trousers.

Oliver trailed a hand through his hair, looking very dishevelled. He licked his lips and stared at James with a speechless expression. "Uh, yeah." He finally grunted and looked down at James, and then quickly averted his gaze, evidently having seen the outline of James's prick through his trousers.

For a brief moment, James wondered what would happen next. He felt a flicker of panic course inside him. Would Oliver disappear from James's life again? He doubted it. James really, really hoped he wouldn't.

And thinking about it, about Oliver backing away, about giving Oliver a chance to say it to James's face – it made James want to cover his ears from the words.

It made him want to run.

"I should, uh, go," James said tensely after a short silence.

Oliver stared at James in surprise and confusion. "Oh?"

James cleared away the tightness in his throat. "I'm going to Winkfield in bit. We're still on for our Wednesday run?" James asked, trying to be casual about it, while he backed towards the kitchen door.

He was going to see his parents later that day, so it wasn't exactly a lie.

Oliver blinked but then he nodded quickly, the corners of his lips curving up slightly. "Yeah, of course."

James felt relief trickle down his spine. At least Oliver wasn't going to disappear from James's life. James gave him a strained grin and took his leave, his heart racing as he exited Oliver's house and walked swiftly towards the nearest corner from where he could apparate to London.

What the hell was he doing? Why in the bloody Merlin was he running away? Hadn't Oliver said that they would meet again? Oliver wasn't running now, but James was – and James didn't even know the reason for it anymore. He cursed inwardly at his fickle mind, but didn't stop and turn back.

James apparated behind a thicket of small trees, close to the Gunmaker's Gate. As he walked towards his home, the conversation from the pub last month circled on James's mind on repeat. It had been in James's mind several times before, whenever he had thought about Oliver or had spent time with him.

They hadn't continued the conversation after the pub – after James had told Oliver, hinted at him that he was in fact into blokes. Oliver had seemed surprised and a bit nervous at the reveal. They had dropped the subject when James had suggested that they could go for a run together. It was four weeks ago, and they had seen each other every week, running together, keeping their conversation in safe topics: Quidditch, Oliver's plans after the season would end, their families, and so on…

And even now, even after snogging him, after touching Oliver like he had – Merlin, he wasn't going to forget that anytime soon – James still didn't feel like he was ready to talk about it with Oliver. Was it because he thought that Oliver would back away? That Oliver would say no and that they couldn't stay as friends either?

Could they?

He remembered Oliver's words from Mason's party, after Oliver had kissed James. He had asked, with a doubtful voice, if James thought they could still be friends. And perhaps Oliver had been right.

What were they then, if not friends?

As James stepped into his home, a frightening and equally intriguing thought came to him. What if Oliver wanted to be more than friends with James?

Could James even do that? He couldn't be like that in public, could he? Surely, not. It would be the end of his career, wouldn't it?

James apparated to Winkfield later that day, thinking about his sister and the letter she had sent him, which James had read after arriving home from Oliver's place.

Lily rarely wrote to him, so it was a bit of a surprise to receive anything from her. Lily informed him that she was coming home for Easter holidays next Saturday, and apparently, she wanted to make sure both James and Albus would have time to talk with her about something important.

James knew that he at least would have time for his sister, as the Magpies – along with every other team in the league – had a one-week break from training during Easter. He couldn't say the same about his brother, as Albus seemed quite busy with his work, even though the league was taking a short break from games.

Lily had also written about the World Cup and told him to keep up the good work, urging him not to fuck it up and be at least in the semifinals, so that she would have time to graduate and see him play in France. Of course, James knew his sister was merely taking the piss, and knew she would be supportive whatever the outcome.

"Hi James," James's father greeted, before closing the door to the shed behind him.

James blinked in surprise, not having seen his father emerge to the back garden. "Hey," James murmured in reply and walked up to his father. "How are things?" He asked, eyeing him closely.

James knew his parents were now in a better place than they had been a month ago. James's mother had moved briefly to live with James's uncle Ron in mid-February, but now she was back home, and seemed a lot happier. Apparently, they were finally working through their problems.

His father let out a noncommittal sound. "It's all right," he said and nodded at the house.

They started to walk towards the house in silence, side by side.

"Sorry I missed your game yesterday," James's father said suddenly, an apologising frown between his brows.

James still occasionally forgot that his father too had changed a lot during the past months, and that the man actually supported him now. He scratched his neck in mild awkwardness and shrugged at his father.

"S'all good."

James could feel his father's scrutinising gaze at the side of his neck.

"Heard you made a brilliant overhead kick," James's father said with an impressed tone. "I reckon the Tornados didn't really stand a chance."

James glanced at him, amused by the awestruck look in his father's eyes. A grin tugged at the corners of James's lips. "Oh? Where'd you heard that?"

"He listened the game recording from a wireless last night after his shift and kept me up until the wee hours to press every bit of information I had about the game," James's mother said wryly from the door where she was waiting for them, smirking at James. "I think your father ought to consider himself lucky that the Harpies won today's match, even though their manager was dog-tired and barely following the game."

James's father gave her a sheepish smile.

"Hello, love," James's mother said to James as they reached the door. She enveloped James into a warm embrace as James's father smiled at them and slipped inside. "How are you?"

James chuckled as they pulled apart. "Still all right, nothing new since yesterday," he said simply. They had chatted a bit after James's game the previous day.

She shrugged. "Well, you never know. How's your brother? I haven't seen him in a bit," she said as they stepped into the drawing room from the back terrace and sat down on the seating area where James's father was already situated.

"Working a lot," James murmured, not missing the worried look that was exchanged between his parents. "It's gonna get easier when the tournament ends."

James's mother pursed her lips, looking somewhat displeased. "I know," she said and sighed. "I just don't understand why Evans thinks they can manage with only two fulltime reporters, when the league end is always busy, and now they have the tournament to handle on top of it!"

"Gin," James's father said with a calming voice. "I'm sure Al can handle it. We'll just have to do our best to support him."

James grimaced inwardly. Was kicking one's brother out of his flat supportive, it said brother had brought it up first?

"Three games left, eh?" James's father continued, grinning lopsidedly. "Reckon you'll be winning the league once again – is it three years in a row now?"

James gave him a tense smile. He didn't really like speculating, especially when it was Quidditch, where James had seen a frontrunner lose their place during the final few matches several times before.

Ginny huffed lightly, a ghost of a smile on her face. "Four. But they haven't won anything yet, so hold your horses," she said to James's father, gently but pointedly.

"Trust me, I will. And when Magpies win the league once more, I can finally tell Eric where to shove it," James's father said airily, looking out of the window.

James lifted his brows at his father, wondering what his father's partner had had to say against Magpies.

"…Harry?" James's mother asked sharply. There was a slight tinge of red on the tops of James's father's cheeks. "Did you – you didn't make a bet with Eric?" She asked wryly.

James's father gave them both a surprised look. "Why would I have done that?" He asked innocently, although not very convincingly.

"Because Eric's sister is playing for Harpies and he's been boasting about them winning the league, and you've assured him that James's team will surely win?"

James's father looked rather embarrassed.

James groaned quietly. "Really, Dad?"

"I think dinner's ought to be ready now," James's father said promptly and stood up before hastily leaving the room.

James let out a weary sigh, shaking his head in exasperation. He gave his mother both an incredulous and admiring look. "How can you know him so well?"

His mother laughed heartily, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Years of studying and interpreting his character," she said airily and then continued, eyeing him mischievously, "It helped, of course, that one of my team's players happened to tell me what my husband's up to with his partner."

James huffed in amusement. His eyes flickered over the empty armchair in which his father had sat. He didn't really care whether or not his father was happy with how the Quidditch season would end. The league had slowly become the least of his problems…

"Everything all right, James?" James's mother asked after a short moment, her voice gentle. "Are you nervous about the last matches?"

James shook his head quickly. "No. I'm actually not," he said and frowned ahead, not looking at her. "It's, uh. The tournament," he said quietly and grimaced as he glanced at his mother and saw the sympathetic look in her eyes.

"It'll be fine, James. You're a brilliant player, you have to give yourself credit," she said earnestly.

James sighed and rubbed his face. "Just… Dunno if I'm ready for all of that. The pressure and expectations. The publicity. The need to stay sharp in and out of the field."

He glanced at his mother again, who had stayed silent. She looked contemplative and weary.

"I know," she finally said, giving him a serious look. "It's utter bollocks," she said and continued with a heavy voice, "but it's something you have to learn to live with, if you intend to keep playing in the league."

James gave her a wary grunt. He knew she was right.

"You're doing so well, James. You've managed to turn everything around with your career and become an admirable and exemplary player," she said softly, eyeing him with pride in her eyes.

James swallowed hard. He was hardly exemplary.

"I think I might be gay."

His mother blinked at him, surprise widening her eyes.

He felt panic fill his insides.

What the bloody hell he had just blurted out?

His mother cleared her throat. "W-What makes you say you might be gay?" She asked curiously, her expression kind and supportive, which didn't make any sense to James.

Why wasn't she horrified? James knew he had been, way back when he had only begun to realise it in the back of his brain. It had taken him a long time to understand it and even longer to accept it. He thought he was still working on it.

James stared at his mother and felt irritation rise inside him. She was eyeing him with a mix of surprise and hesitance and compassion.

"Why are you so – so bloody casual about that?" James asked in disbelief, standing sharply up and backing towards the door to the terrace, all the while scowling at his mother. "Why aren't you bothered by it?"

James's mother stood up and walked towards James, stopping in front of him, shaking her head in confusion. "Why would I be?" She asked quietly. "My job is to support you, James, not to judge you."

James couldn't believe what he was hearing. He scoffed. "So – last summer, you guys weren't judging me?"

He knew it was unnecessary, but hearing that come out from her mouth made bitterness rise in the back of his mind.

James's mother sighed exasperatedly. "I hardly think you can compare this to last summer, James," she said, pursing her lips. "You had a problem with alcohol, and Merlin knows what else, and you were going to ruin your life," she continued with a deep frown between her brows.

James scowled at the floor between him and his mother, knowing that she was right, knowing that what he was supposed to feel at that moment was relief and love for his mother.

"I know this might come as a surprise, James, especially if what you just told me has been hard for you to accept… But I really do want to support you, to be yourself, to do what makes you happy. I know your father wants that too." His mother said cautiously.

James swallowed hard and realised he was shaking his head. He wondered what in the Merlin's saggy balls had he done? Why had he said anything? He vaguely saw her taking a step towards him, and then another, until she was standing close enough to pull him into a tender hug.

And he let her.

They stood there, silently hugging each other, until James broke the silence. "Don't tell Dad."

His mother nodded against James's collarbone; her voice muffled as she spoke. "I won't."

"Don't tell anyone." James whispered, pressing his teeth together to suppress a massive wave of emotion rushing over him.

"I won't."

They stood in silence for a long moment, before it was broken by James's brother, who walked into the drawing room.

"What's going on?" Albus asked slowly, his voice filled with unease.

Their mother pulled away from James, and after giving him a reassuring smile, she turned to look at Albus, holding out her arms for him and giving James a moment to pull himself together.

"Just missing my boys and hoping they won't forget about me," she said with a pitiful look.

Albus snorted and walked up to their mother to give her a hug. "We wouldn't dare."

"Cheeky," Their mother muttered, tugging at the sleeve of Albus's shirt as they pulled apart. "You're skinnier. Is he eating?" She asked from James, which made Albus scowl and James grin at her.

"I dunno," James shrugged, suppressing a snigger. "He's been too busy for me to notice. Always working."

Albus tsked. "He is right here. And I'm not always working. I'm here now, aren't I?"

Their mother smiled sweetly at him. "And I'm glad for it. Now, I think your father has been hiding long enough, the dinner ought to be ready."

Albus gave James a questioning look as they followed their mother out of the drawing room. James merely rolled his eyes in exasperation and nodded ahead, towards the dining room.

After they had settled down to sit at the table – with James and Albus sitting next to each other, opposite to their parents – and after talking about Albus's job situation until James had emptied his plate and until Albus looked irritated as hell, James remembered Lily's letter.

"Hey, Al. Lily told us to book some time for her from our busy schedules. She's coming home next Saturday," James said and took a sip of water from his glass.

Albus lifted his brows at James, evidently asking what for.

James shrugged in reply, being none the wiser.

"I reckon we'll all go to Burrow on Good Friday, so don't plan anything else there," their mother said simply, her expression slightly strained as she eyed James's father.

For a brief moment, James wondered if the row between his parents actually had had something to do with the Weasley family. Surely, not…?

James's father cleared his throat and frowned at his plate before moving his gaze to Albus, a small smile on his lips. "What else have you been doing, Al, besides work?"

Who has Al been doing, was the correct question on James's opinion.

Albus shrugged, clenching his jaw. "Nothing much."

"Oh?" Their mother asked, eyeing Albus carefully – and probably seeing right through him, if her next words were any indication. "Are you seeing someone?"

"No, I'm not." Albus said quickly, and a bit defensively.

Even their father gave Albus a bemused glance.

"James?" Their mother asked slowly, moving her scrutinising gaze to him.

"I mean – " James started casually, but was interrupted by his brother.

" – Shut the fuck up." Albus grunted next to him, his glare boring into James's neck.

James gave his brother an unbelieving look. "Wasn't gonna say anything, wanker."

"Al! James!" Their father said sharply. "Don't speak to each other like that."

As James shook his head at his brother in incredulity and looked away, he muttered, "you're the one who gave it away."

"Mature, James. Really." Albus said wryly.

Their mother sighed. "All right. So, Al is seeing someone, which is wonderful. We can drop the subject if you'd prefer it?"

"I would, thanks." Albus said stiffly. He cleared his throat and looked slightly uncomfortable. "There was, uh, something else I wanted to chat about…"

James knew his brother was going to ask about moving in with their parents, and even though he was more than okay that Albus was moving out of his flat – especially now, as his brother was being a big prat – he wasn't sure if Albus moving back to Winkfield would be a good thing for their parents. Not yet, at least, when Lily too was coming to stay there for two weeks.

Besides, hadn't his father said that they ought to do their best to support Albus?

And hadn't Albus supported James, and done a lot more for James than letting him sleep in his flat a couple of months? Hell, Albus had confunded the Muggle Police for James.

"Actually," James interrupted, taking a hold of his brother by the shoulder, and giving the boy in question a meaningful look before turning to speak to their parents, "Al and I will talk it through first and then he'll come back to you."

He could feel the tension slowly fading away from his brother, and from the corner of his eye, James could see Albus's lips slightly curving upwards. He also didn't miss the moved expression on his mother's face.

James reckoned that perhaps it had been the right thing to do.