Summary: Late night at 12 Grimmauld Place, and James, Harry and Sirius have a very normal discussion about Harry's latest problem... how to kiss someone.

The French Discussion

James is yawning when he quietly closes the front door of Grimmauld Place number 12, careful not to wake that annoyingly loud portrait of Sirius' equally annoying mother. It's late night, and all he wants is to lay in bed, Lily's warm arms around him and then… wake up in six hours, in time to see Harry out to Hogwarts.

He is stretching his arms, wondering if he could just do like the Weasley twins and apparate to avoid climbing three flights of stairs, when he notices the lights in the kitchen and hear movement inside. That makes him frown—if Sirius is drinking again, stung by Snape's comment of how he only stays inside these days…

But when he opens the door of the kitchen, he is greeted by the sight of Harry, using a chair to try to reach one of the higher cabinets of the room. The drink cabinet.

Harry turns at the sound of the door, his face reddening at once, though he looks somewhat less sheepish when he notices who it is.

'Hi, Dad,' he says easily as if it's normal for his father to catch him trying to break into the drink cabinet.

James blinks. 'Hi, son,' he says, turning a chair to sit on, watching his son with mild interest. 'You do know the cabinet is charmed, right? No underage access, Molly knows her kids.'

In answer, Harry takes a hairpin out of his pocket.

'Ohh, Muggle tricks.' James lifts his eyebrows, impressed now. 'Slow, but effective.'

'Fred and George showed me once,' Harry explains. He throws a furtive glance at the cabinet. 'Since you are, could you help me…?'

James grins. 'You know I can't. Might give you points for trying, but, you know, you are fifteen.'

Harry crosses his arms as he stands down, sitting in the chair with a rather grumpy expression. 'As if you guys didn't ever drink before you were of age.'

'All I will say is that my dear father didn't catch me, so, next time…'

'Don't get caught, yeah, I won't.'

There is still a mutinous expression on Harry's face.

James wishes Lily was there; she could read what's on Harry's mind at once, but James supposes that considering what he caught Harry doing, it's better to not involve her at the moment.

He tries to think like her. Harry started that Christmas break with a storm over his head, ready to thunder at any comment—no wonder, considering the nightmare he had with that snake—but he had gotten better before Christmas. James knows he was excited to return to Hogwarts, until the news that had come that afternoon.

Well, he supposes that particular classes with Snape would drive him to drink too, but that wasn't like Harry.

'So what's prompting you to get drunk the night before Hogwarts?' he asks, trying to understand his son better.

Harry shrugs. 'What's not making me?'

'You wouldn't want a hangover at Hogwarts. Madame Pomfrey prepares the worst Hangover Potion that is known to mankind—she says it helps to fix the lesson.'

'I wasn't going to drink that much. Just wanted something to sleep better for once.'

That wipes off the smile on James' face. 'Bad dreams?'

'The same, nothing…' Harry closes his eyes for a minute, a crease between his eyebrows. 'Nothing like that.'

'Okay... But if you have those dreams—'

'I know, I know, I'll tell you and Mum at once.' He shakes his head, eyes hardening. 'Well, it's nothing like my dreams will get any betterif I'll be seeing Snape so much more now.'

'Harry…'

'Professor Snape, yeah, okay.'

That wasn't exactly what James was complaining about, but he will let it slip.

'I know you don't like it, Harry—'

'Would you?'

'—But it's important.'

'Yeah, yeah, I know. It's just another thing that's making me dread going back.' He throws the most furtive look at James. 'Wouldn't you consider homeschooling this year?'

James sighs. 'You are not serious.'

'No, that's my godfather,' Harry deadpans, though not even him seems to find the old joke funny. 'With everything that's happening, Umbridge and her decrees, no Quidditch, that insane amount of homework, I am just feeling so… overwhelmed. And now with those Occluthing classes...'

'You wouldn't play Quidditch here, and you certainly would still apply for O.W.L.s,' James notes, his voice kind though he knows none of this is any consolation to his son. 'Things will get better—and I know you have things to look up at Hogwarts next semester! I heard Ron talking about what happened before…ah, before term ended.'

His son's face reddens so brusquely that James wonders if he somehow managed to drink any alcohol at all. 'You—you heard?'

That's a weird reaction. 'Yeah…I think it's a great step, but considering your success so far, I trust in you.'

'Success?' repeats Harry, voice weak. 'It didn't look like one.'

James frowns. Harry was always modest, but he also knows when to take a compliment for a work well done.

'Yeah, from what I've heard, you are really impressing people with your skills.'

'Skills,' he repeats, uneasy. 'I wouldn't say it like that.'

'But...I thought everyone was loving your classes.'

'Classes?' Harry blinks. 'What are you talking about?'

'Ron said you are going to teach them how to cast Patronuses—wait, what are you talking about?'

Harry jumps to his feet, more flustered than when he was caught trying to break into the drink cabinet.

'Nothing, I will—'

'Harry.'

'Dad.' They look at each other for a full minute before Harry sits again, ears burning. 'Fine. But you can't tell Mum—at least not until I am far away from here.'

James grins. 'Can't tell your mother. You're blushing. So, what's with you and Cho? It's still Cho you like, right?'

'Still', he scoffs, carefully avoiding answering his father's question. 'When you say it like that it seems as if I fancy a different girl every week.'

'You are fifteen, it happens.'

'You were like that with Mum?'

'Oh, no, at fifteen I was crazy about your mother,' James answers, shaking his head. Things were very difficult for him and Lily at fifteen. 'But tell me, what happened?'

Harry taps his hand on the table, seeming very concentrated on the task. 'We may have done that thing.'

'May or did? Wait, what's that thing? Harry—'

'Merlin, Dad!' Harry cries, startled. 'What were you doing at fifteen? We just kissed!'

'Oh, I knew that,' James says, waving his hand as if he wasn't suddenly very concerned about his son. 'That's good for you!'

'Yeah.'

'You don't look excited. I thought you fancied her.'

'I did. I mean, I do! It's just… When I pictured that moment, we were… happier.'

'Kisses usually cheer people up.'

Harry grimaces. 'That's what Ron said. Hermione told me she is still heartbroken, that's why she was crying… but if she didn't want to kiss me, why did she?'

James suddenly reconsiders the rules against drinking, but he forces this thought down. 'Answer that question and you can write a book about it and retire for the rest of your life. I don't know why she kissed you—do you know why you kissed her?'

'I didn't—I mean, I did, I think, how do people know what to do with their—anyway, we kissed. I think. I… wanted, yeah, I did.'

'Because you like her?' James suggests helpfully.

'Yeah, I like her,' he says, though James wonders if he is trying to convince himself somehow. He fights an urge to sigh loudly.

'So it's possible she likes you back, even if it's a little complicated.'

'Is it always like that?' Harry whispers, his eyes widened. 'I mean, you and Mum don't look complicated.'

Again he concentrates very hard on not showing any emotion. If only Harry knew... 'It can start like that, but if people want to, it gets better. Uncomplicated. Sometimes it takes effort.'

'Oh.'

'Give it a try. When you go back, you can ask her out.'

Harry's eyes open even more. James thinks Harry didn't look that scared when talking about extra classes with Snape.

'Just like that? But what if she doesn't want to? What if she is not into me?'

'Harry… she kissed you, right?'

'Oh, right.' Harry breathes relieved, before another frown appears on his forehead. 'What if she didn't like it? What if—'

The door of the kitchen opens and he shuts his voice. James turns to see Sirius yawning, looking at them lazily.

'I thought I had heard Harry's voice,' he says, going to the drink cabinet and effortlessly taking a bottle of wine there. 'What?' he asks, when James frowns at him. 'It's my sleep juice.'

'So that's how Harry got the idea?' James asks, crossing his arms. In front of him, Harry chuckles.

'Mum, actually, she likes to sip a little liquor before bed. Don't tell her I know.'

'Sleeping problems?' Sirius asks, sitting next to James. 'So, what is it? Voldemort, deadly snakes, old Snivellus?'

'Girls, actually,' Harry says, frowning. Sirius looks impressed.

'A normal problem? You got those?'

Harry rolls his eyes.

'You can help him, Padfoot,' James says, smirking. 'Please share with us your first kiss.'

Sirius doesn't look embarrassed. 'Summer before Fourth Year. Muggle girl across the street. She asked me if I enjoyed French, and of course, I thought she was talking about how to speak… And, well, it did involve my mouth, so in a way...'

'Aren't you forgetting anything?'

'Oh, yeah, my mother saw me, she got furious—'

'That you did on purpose. The other part.'

'Ah.' Sirius rolls his eyes. 'I didn't know French after all. Ended up licking her lips like… like a dog, which was kind of a sign—'

'Gross, thanks,' James winks at Harry, sharing a grimace with his son. 'So, you see, could be worse.'

'Why are we talking about my first kiss?' Sirius asks, looking from Harry to James and then back. A mischievous grin shines on his face. 'Don't tell me that my youngest godson—'

'I am your only godson.'

'—Has finally exchanged germs with someone!'

'Still gross, Padfoot.'

'I'm just messing around. Oh, Harry! I remember when I used to change your diapers—'

'I remember you avoiding it.'

'—And now you are here, fifteen already, starting a revolution and snogging!'

'Revolutions are easier,' Harry notes, cheeks in flame once more. 'Kissing is hard. Why is it so wet? And, I mean, hands! What do you do with your hands? You stand there looking like a weird monkey—'

'Oh, Harry.' Sirius sighs, then he looks reproachfully at James. 'I thought you gave him the talk.'

'Yeah, but we don't teach how to kiss in the talk! We teach important things, like precautions!'

'There will be no need for that if he can't even kiss,' Sirius notes gravely, and Harry nods his head, biting the inside of his cheek as if he is considering Sirius has a point. 'Come on, stand up.'

James does and then, to his surprise, Sirius rises too, putting his hands around James' face.

'Padfoot?'

'What, we need to teach him to kiss!'

'I am not snogging you. One, my kisses are saved for Lily, it was written on our marriage vows.'

'I don't remember—'

'And two, your breath is terrible.'

'Oh,' Sirius breathes into his hand for a second. 'You are right. Good point.' He looks at Harry. 'Take note, Harry. Make sure to brush your teeth before kissing someone.'

James turns to. 'Mint does miracles too.'

Harry, who is watching the scene before him with mild amusement, nods with more discipline than James guesses he would show in any class at Hogwarts.

'It is easier to do things wrong than right,' Sirius says. 'Don't go directly for French unless you two are already familiar with each other. Don't shove your tongue into her mouth, it is not nice.'

'Don't bite either,' James adds. When Sirius turns to him, eyebrow raised, James reddens.

'Glenda Brandon, Fourth Year. I cut her lip. There was blood everywhere—'

'That's a way to kill the mood,' Sirius says playfully, not hiding his mirth. 'Go slow, that's the secret. It's normal to discover it.'

'I can't—I can't just come and kiss —'

'That's how it usually goes.'

'No, he is right,' James interrupts. 'She won't just run to you in the middle of the hall, jump into your arms and you will kiss her. Ask her out as we discussed.'

'You'll need to set the mood,' Sirius agrees. 'You'll be in Hogsmeade, right? It's a classic first date.'

'Ask her out to Hogsmeade,' Harry repeats, slightly green now, though he is paying attention to Sirius' words.

'You'll feel better after you ask her out, it's the moment before that it's scary,' James assures him.

'Weren't you so scared that Lily had to ask you out?' Sirius asks innocently.

'I wasn't scared, I just wanted to respect the limits of our friendship!'

'Well, have more guts than your old father there and you'll be fine,' Sirius says, winking at Harry. James rolls his eyes. 'So, you will be there, Hogsmeade, a nice moment just the two of you. You'll do like this—come here, Prongs, I won't kiss you—it's your loss by the way—and you place your hands around her face like this, you see? It is cute.'

James pushes one of Sirius' hands away. 'You are pressing my face too much. I look like a duck!'

'My bad,' Sirius says with a smirk that tells James he was totally doing it on purpose. 'Don't press too much—pouting kisses are not very exciting.'

'It's actually clever to hold her face like that, Harry,' James notes. 'Avoids that eternal doubt of what to do with your arms.'

'Unless your hands are cold,' Sirius adds. He looks at James, a worried expression crossing his face. 'My hands are cold?'

'They are very nice,' James assures him. 'This smell—aloe vera?'

'Remus gave me a lotion for Christmas,' Sirius agrees, offering a hand that James holds next to his nose, sniffing it. It's very good. 'I can lend you if you—'

The door of the kitchen opens once more. Lily is holding her arms over her robe to warm herself, but she stops at the sight of them. James knows what she is seeing: James and Sirius too close to each other, one of Sirius' hands holding James' face while the other is being held delicately by James, all the while Harry watches everything with open curiosity.

She rubs her eyes as if expecting the scene to just disappear when she opens them again.

'Do I dare to ask?'

James takes a step back. 'I don't think you should.'

'Okay... So… it's late, everyone should go to bed?'

They nod. Harry jumps out of his chair, his humour looking much better than when James first found him.

'Thanks, Dad,' he whispers.

'Yes, thanks, Dad,' Sirius says too, winking at James, following after Harry. Lily looks at James.

'Do I—'

'I will tell you later,' he says, pulling her into his arms and kissing her forehead.

Lily sighs contentedly—she always worries when he is out on a mission for the Order—, looking up to find him beaming at her. 'What?'

'I just realized I love you.'

'Oh, and you had forgotten?' she asks teasingly, eyes sparkling.

'I would never,' he promises. 'I even refused to kiss Sirius because of you.'

'Now I know you really love me,' Lily replies, kissing him softly on the lips. 'Why the sudden realization?'

'I was just thinking… Do you remember our first kiss?'

'You mean the one where you snogged me senseless only to leave me alone suddenly in that street at Hogsmeade?'

'I needed to make sure I wasn't dreaming,' he admits, slightly sheepishly. 'Maybe I was thinking about our second kiss.'

'The one where you came back all wet and just snogged me senseless, not leaving me later? Yeah, I enjoyed that a lot more.'

'I was a great kisser, you can say it.'

'You seem a lot more confident now than you were that day.'

'Well, you have not stopped kissing me ever since. I have to be confident.'

'Good point.' She brushes her lips against his, the mischief in her eyes now. 'I could kiss a little more. Enjoy the benefits of being married to such a great kisser.'

James smirks. 'I thought it was late?'

'I did say everyone should go to bed…'

He laughs, pulling her even closer and spins on the spot. Climbing three flights of stairs would take too much time now.