Honestly, it's not as bad as James thought it would be, having sex with Peter. James definitely is not attracted to him, but, then, he's not attracted to Sirius, either, and he already knows from sleeping with Sirius that that doesn't have to matter. Still, there's a big difference between looking at Sirius while you're getting laid and looking at Peter while you are. Sirius is at least handsome in a way that even someone as heterosexual as James can appreciate aesthetically, while Peter is just—James doesn't want to call him gross, but, well, there it is.

But it's not a bad thing, not when James remembers that Sirius doesn't do it for him anymore ever since James saved him from—a bloody life sentence in Azkaban, probably, if James hadn't come to his rescue. James can't even bring himself to get physically close to Sirius anymore, can he? He can't even frigging touch himself in bed without feeling sick at the visual of Sirius he automatically conjures up when he does. Peter may be kind of ugly, but at least sleeping with him doesn't pose that problem.

Besides, it's not like James is looking at Peter while he's kissing him. He doesn't even really need to look at him during the sex part, not if he shuts his eyes. He can still listen to the little whimpering noises Peter makes, so distinct from Sirius's unconstrained grunts, and remember that he's not with Sirius this time—that he's safe.

During, they just ruck up their robes so that they don't have to take them off. It was one thing with Sirius, but James isn't sure he can bring himself to do what he's doing with Peter if he has to look at him fully naked.

The worst part is right afterward, when Peter is sitting there all debauched on the bed looking at James like he's scared James is going to break him, and James can't get the sound of Remus's disapproval out of his head. Remus warned him not to do this. He warned him, and James did it anyway, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It's fine, he tells himself. It'll be fine if it means he can get his head away from Sirius.

"It's not as weird as you'd expect, is it, banging another bloke?" he tells Peter in the cockiest and chillest voice he can muster up. "The whole first time I was with Sirius, we couldn't quit laughing about how awkward we thought it was going to be, but—"

"Can we not talk about your sex life with Padfoot? Like, ever?"

James rips his eyes away from Peter's face. "Yeah. Sorry."

He unlocks the door—there's no point keeping Remus and Sirius out now—but can't decide whether or not he wants them to bust in here and interrupt. On the one hand, he doesn't think he can manage to act normal in front of them or anybody right now. On the other, he and Peter are sitting here on Peter's bed looking anywhere but into each other's eyes, and James doesn't know how much longer he can stand it. In the end, he winds up telling Peter goodnight as hastily as he can and shutting the hangings on his four-poster before anybody else can walk in on them.

He doesn't sleep, not for a long time.

James is the one whose alarm always wakes all four of them up in the morning on school days, but the next morning, he's got no desire whatsoever to get out of bed. Despite going to bed freakishly early, he was up until about three in the morning dwelling, and he feels like he's been run over by the Hogwarts Express when he tries to struggle into a sitting position. He takes one look over at Peter's blurry frame and another at Sirius's and decides, nope. Not today. Not yet.

He fumbles on the nightstand to turn off the WWN, which is shrieking out Weird Sisters at a frankly distressing volume, and sandwiches his head between his pillows. It takes a minute for anybody to address this turn of events. "Prongs, it's Friday," says Remus in the grouchy voice he usually adopts on mornings close to the full moon. "We've all got Potions, and you haven't even started your essay yet. You were going to skip breakfast to write it."

"What are you now, my mum?" grunts James.

"James—"

"I'm skiving off. I'll write the essay when I get up and turn it in late."

Remus pauses, then says, "Why sleep in? You were in bed at, like, nine last night. You should be wide awake by now."

"Well, I'm not. Leave me damn well alone, Remus."

Remus leaves him damn well alone. James adds snapping at Remus to the list of things for him to regret when he's more awake. Unfortunately, now that the alarm has woken him, James appears to be—get this—too stressed and worried and guilty to actually fall back asleep. His brain is swimming in circles, and it's not even seven in the morning yet.

After a couple of minutes of this, he gives it up and pulls himself upright. Remus is in the bathroom, James assumes, because only Sirius and Peter are in the dormitory pulling on their robes, both giving James wary looks. Great.

"What?" James barks. "I didn't sleep well. I'm allowed to have a bad night."

"Prongs, mate," says Sirius in a very careful voice, "is everything all right with you today? You're just acting—"

"Everything's fine," James snarls. "I'm just tired."

He was expecting Peter to be the hardest person for him to look at this morning, but it turns out that looking at Sirius is even harder. When James looks away, however, the flare of shame in his stomach doesn't go away, just keeps simmering and bubbling like it's going to boil over any minute.

James is going to boil over any minute.

The one good thing about still having to write Slughorn's essay is that it gives him an excuse to stay behind in the dormitory while his friends all head to breakfast. He's a good student; he could knock out this essay in his sleep, so technically it gives him an advantage that he's even half awake right now to do it. It's fine—but nothing feels fine, and he finds himself writing as slowly as he can get away with, if only to drag out the time before he has to leave this tower and face up to what he's done.

I hope it was fucking worth it to you, he tells himself, feeling tired and pissed and sad, as he rolls up his parchment and stuffs it in his bag with his Potions textbook. But he doesn't think it was worth it. Sure, his limbs feel easier now that Peter's rubbed one out for him, but he feels more irritable than every—irritable and ashamed.

The way Peter looked at him last night—

He's guessing that Remus goes down to the Hospital Wing sometime between breakfast and Potions because, when James gets to the dungeons, Remus isn't there. Sirius is sitting at one desk, and Peter is sitting at another, and James finds himself cursing Remus's lycanthropy harder than he ever has before because now, today, James could really use Remus down here to sit with, even if Remus would tell James off for what he's done once he came clean.

He actually considers for a second just ditching them both and sitting alone at the empty desk at the front of the classroom, one desk over from Evans and Snape, but a sudden flare-up of his conscience convinces him not to. If he's feeling weird about last night, then Peter is bound to be feeling it, too. If he's got any decency at all, James will go over and sit with him—if not to talk about it, then at least to reassure Peter that James isn't going to abandon him.

Sirius is almost certainly expecting James to partner him like usual. It takes all of James's Gryffindor courage to flash Sirius a brief smile, turn on his heel, and saunter up to Peter's desk instead.

He flops down in the chair and flings his bag at his feet. "Morning."

"Morning. Feeling better?" To his credit, Peter's voice doesn't waver, not like James's is doing right now.

"Yeah. I know I should apologize to Moony, but—did he check himself into the Hospital Wing after breakfast?"

"Yeah, he did. Pads and I were going to go down and visit him during lunch if he's not back by then. You want to come?"

James's stomach growls unpleasantly. "I shouldn't. I already skipped breakfast, and I feel like shit for it. Tell him I'll go down there as soon as classes let out for the day, okay?"

This is fine, he tells himself. This is normal. He can talk to Peter about surface stuff without having any intrusive images from last night come back up to—

—Whelp. There goes that theory.

"Look, I need to apologize to you, too," adds James in an undertone. "Last night—"

The bell rings. James breaks off awkwardly and rubs the back of his neck, finally daring to look at Peter's face properly for the first time today. He doesn't look pissed or particularly scared, so that's something, at least.

It's tempting to just drop the whole thing after Slughorn collects their essays and sets them to work, but he knows this thing will just keep festering if he does, and is he really going to want to deal with that later? It's not like he wants to deal with it now, but it's just going to keep coming back up if he doesn't, so—

Peter, as it ends up, makes that decision for him. "Prongs, about what we did—you know I'm not into you like that, right?"

James tries not to wear his relief all over his face. "Yeah. And I'm not into you like that, either."

"Good. This is good. It's like you said—it doesn't have to mean more than we want it to mean."

James hesitates. "So you're good with what happened?"

"Yeah, I am. How often were you thinking—? I mean—?"

Shit. He got so caught up feeling ashamed of himself for this whole mess that he completely forgot he'd given Peter the impression that he wanted to keep doing it after the first time. But then he reminds himself—that's what he wanted, isn't it? He was going out of his mind without somebody to shag, and that can't be Sirius again, at least not yet—and unless James is full of shit, it's not supposed to matter that he's not attracted to Peter. He's not attracted to Sirius, either, and yet that was going pretty great until the Snape thing messed it all up.

The only thing Peter's offering James is the identical thing James used to offer Sirius: no strings, no emotions, just release. What more could James ask for?

"It's always a little weird to wrap your brain around it when it's new," he tells Peter. "Give me a few days, and then…?"

xx

After Potions, he's got Ancient Runes. Peter isn't taking this one, and Remus still doesn't make an appearance, which leaves James to partner Sirius like always and try not to give away all over his face what he and Peter have done—no, what they're doing. He's pretty sure Sirius notices how jumpy he is, but, mercifully, Sirius doesn't say anything. Good. James doesn't have a clue what he'd tell him if he did.

At lunch, he's more than grateful to have some time alone, tries not to spend it evaluating his life choices too deeply. Everything's fine, he keeps telling himself—so why is it so hard to believe it?

He finds himself wishing he could get over whatever hangup he's got about Sirius so that everything can go back to normal and James can go back to banging the bloke he actually wants to be banging. Then he catches himself.

It seems to take forever for afternoon classes to let out so that James can make his way down to the Hospital Wing. Peter and Sirius offer to accompany him, but James turns them down, saying he's got to talk to Remus privately about something. Honestly, it's not like James wants to admit any of his actions to Remus—but if he can't tell Remus, then he's got nobody to tell, and he thinks he might crack up if he doesn't talk to someone.

Remus is awake in there when James arrives; he's not sure whether he's pleased or not about that. Madam Pomfrey is hovering around feeding him potions, and James watches her so beadily that, by the time she finally goes in the back room, Remus whistles and says, "Wow. I was starting to get anxious just watching you watch her."

"Sorry. I… yeah."

"Is this the part where you tell me what's got you so worked up today?"

"Look, Moony, I'm really sorry I yelled at you this morning. I shouldn't have taken it out on you, and…"

Remus waves this off, but the effect is lost somewhat because of how weak and pallid he looks in his hospital bed. "It's okay, James. I'm not mad. Just talk to me. What happened?"

James chews on his lip, rakes a nervous hand through his hair. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out on your own already. You two left me alone with him for hours last night."

Remus's face contorts into—something. "I made an assumption, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to tell me yourself."

He was right, James wants to tell him, and James never should have done this, but that's not what comes out of his mouth. "It wasn't a big deal. We talked in Potions, and we're on the same page. I told him I'd let him know in a few days when I'm ready to have another go."

James doesn't like at all the smile that works its way onto Remus's face. "James, are you sure your—er—arrangement with Sirius was just about sex? Because—"

"Why? What are you trying to tell me?"

"I'm not trying to tell you anything. I just mean—this thing with Peter isn't going to last. You know that, right? How's he going to feel when you and Sirius make up and he goes back to just being—"

"I'm not worried," says James, even though he is worried, even though Remus knows a lot better than James is willing to let on. "It's not like it'll be much of a loss for Pete when we stop. Neither of them has feelings for me, and I don't have feelings for either of them, either. It's all good. I just—I wanted to be able to tell someone, so I'm telling you. That's all."

"Why tell me? If it's so not a big deal, why not tell Sirius? I thought you two could tell each other anything."

James holds in a wince. Shit—Remus has got him there. "It just seems rude, you know? Telling him I found somebody to—it's going to make it sound like I replaced him, and he's going to want to know why."

"And you're not ready for him to know? If you haven't slept with him in—what, over a month now?—I think he will have figured out on his own already that something is different between you and him because of what he did."

But James isn't ready for any of this, and he's starting to really regret clueing Remus in at all, no matter whether Remus had already figured it out and was going to approach James about it eventually. "It's fine, Moony. You'll see. It's all going to work out in the end."

He doesn't like the look on Remus's face or the sound of his voice when he replies, "Okay, James, but if it's not—if it's not—I'll be here for you to help you through it. I just want you to know that."

James doesn't thank him. He doesn't need to, because Remus never needed to offer in the first place.