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 being.

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 a 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 at his feet.

"I will die," James whispered, arms spread out in an attempt to hug the cold stone surface, "And it will be gruesome, so please, inanimate objects and stone walls, avert your gazes lest I scar you."

"Shut up. Merlin, you're so dramatic. Listen," Sirius's 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, I wouldn't."

Sirius simply scowled at him.

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

Sirius looked miserable and lost and child-like, and James winced sympathetically, secretly wondering if he looked like that before he had started dating Lily—correction—before Lily had started dating him. He'd been committed to Lily 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 for you and I want to suck on 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 its current target of attention. 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. Facts, for Sirius, were not meant for filing away and storing in his mind. Facts were provocations, and Sirius never took provocations lying down. According to Sirius, facts had to be actively put to use or, at least tested for their truth. This particular inclination of Sirius's could turn out to be advantageous for James. It was a fact that Sirius fancied Remus. It would be only a matter of time before he decided to Do Something About It.

Or so James hoped. 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 the progress we've made since ... the Snivellus incident."

The memory of Sirius's colossal fuck-up lingered in the air like poison. 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, I mean, you do worse things to him all the time. You practically molest the poor chap on a daily and he forgives you for it 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 apologize, ergo, there is no question of forgiveness. Besides, there's a difference between forgiveness and tolerance. Even if he forgives me for it eventually, I doubt he'd want to stick around knowing 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."

"Of course I would Padfoot, you're my best mate. I can't believe you're making me say this—no, I would not in fact dump you for being queer." James said, a little miffed at having to provide this clarification.

"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 wouldn't care, so long as you don't peek while I'm in the shower." Here, James shuddered.

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

A smile flickered over James' face and then vanished, a contemplative look settling in its place. They had been having this conversation for five minutes straight without fidgeting or screaming or engaging in bouts of immaturity in the pursuit of avoidance. In fact, it felt almost banal, 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 amid all the insanity of this past week, he realized that perhaps he was getting a hang of this "growing up" business that Lily and Remus were constantly on about. He felt mature, grounded, like nothing could faze him, not even Snivellus bursting into the room wearing a garland of flowers and tap-dancing to a sea shanty.

The voice of reason in his head was pointing accusatorily at the other half of his mind that was in stitches at the image, obviously committed to proving his last claim of maturity wrong, 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."

"Mm."

"Padfoot," James insisted, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "There is nothing to it. Be a man and go 'fess up."

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

"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. "No."

"Fine," James snapped, patience finally exhausted. "Be a coward about it. Mope around for the rest of the year. Cry when Remis marries a nice girl and knocks her up and has a family. Drown in your misery for all I care, just stop bothering Peter and Lily, they don't need a mad nutter like you harassing them their every waking minute."

Sirius glowered at James as he stormed to the door, yanking it open. As James disappeared around the corner, Sirius 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," James yelled from the other side of the door and slammed it shut without waiting for a response.