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It was Sam Wilson who handed Steve Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.
Looking at the cover, Steve wasn’t sure that the book would be for him.
“Trust me,” Sam said, handing him a worn edition that belonged to his nephew. “You’re gonna love it.”
And Hogwarts has been his home since then.
— —
Steve Rogers does not attend Comic-Con because he knows that someone is bound to recognize him and he’ll be forced to give some kind of impromptu Captain America panel. Besides, there’s not a whole lot there this year that attracts him. Namely, there is not a whole lot of Harry Potter content.
But there is a Harry Potter afterparty.
Natasha’s the one who sends him the link to Into the Pensieve: MuggleNet Live 2019.
If you can stand an evening at the Hard Rock Cafe, this looks up your alley Harry Potter.
Steve can stand just about anything for an evening of anonymity with other Harry Potter fans, thank you very much. He’s just gotten some beautifully made Gryffindor robes, ordered straight from Universal Studios, and it’s easy to run out for an eyeliner pencil to draw a scar.
He’s Harry Potter on the outside and ready to drink some butterbeer, and spend a magical night among friends while snitches twinkle above.
— —
Okay, so he knew there wouldn’t actually be snitches. But he thought there’d be some decor.
Or something Harry Potter related.
Instead he’s got a DJ dressed as Luna Lovegood spinning tunes that go:
“It’s time to get funky (funky funky).”
He was expecting at least one song from the Yule Ball. He knows Do the Hippogriff. He does not know any of these other songs, though the one about closing the goddamn door was pretty catchy.
Everyone on the dance floor around him starts to clap their hands. Steve follows along because he doesn’t have much else to do.
At least this song has instructions.
Except when he’s trying to cha cha real smooth, he knocks right into someone in a green, scaly dress. “Uh, excuse me?” she says, raising an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” Steve mutters, deciding that he’s done dancing for a little while. He makes a quick retreat off of the dance floor and over towards the bar.
If Steve were being a shit, he’d say he was at better parties during Prohibition. He was just a kid during Prohibition, but he’s sure the sentiment is true.
As if the night couldn’t get much more disappointing, there aren’t even any of the promised theme cocktails. Instead, he orders a plain old, boring beer. No butter and no fire whisky. Just a $15 beer.
He’s just taking it from the bartender when a Gryffindor crams in next to him (typical Gryffindor move).
He knows he’s dressed as a Gryffindor, but he’s a Slytherin at heart.
He turns with half a mind to tell the guy off, but then he sees…
Sirius Black.
— —
The thing is, Steve’s never been the biggest fan of Sirius Black.
He’s always been a big fan of Remus Lupin, of his tragic story, of his inability to let love in. Since he read it, he knew that Remus was bisexual — just like he is — and struggling, always struggling. And while his friends help him and mean well, becoming Animagi to spend time with him and all, Remus spoke to Steve in a way the other Marauders did not.
Until he sees Sirius Black standing in front of him, cleft chin covered with five o’clock shadow, long hair hanging over his ears, and blue eyes shining as he asks the bartender for…
“Firewhisky?” the bartender asks, furrowed brow. “We have Jack Daniels.”
Sirius Black groans. “Fine, sure, put it with Coke.”
Steve swears he hears the bartender mutter, “Nerd” as he walks away.
And Steve decides to, as the kids say, shoot his shot. “You also disappointed that there aren’t any themed cocktails?” he asks, leaning against the bar.
Sirius Black raises an eyebrow. “It said there would be on the ad. Also, props and a photo booth.” He looks around theatrically, his hair swishing pleasantly as he does so. “Don’t see anything but a bunch of dad rocker paraphernalia.” He pauses. “Though I guess these would be the muggle bands Sirius liked.”
Steve can’t help his little smile. “Yeah, probably.”
“Never seen a blond Harry Potter, though,” Sirius says, reaching up and sweeping Steve’s bangs up off of his forehead to look at Steve’s makeshift scar. He smiles when he sees it and Steve feels it all the way down to his toes.
This is probably how Remus Lupin felt when Sirius Black first sat down next to him on the Hogwarts Express.
“Cute,” Sirius says, dropping his hand. The bartender returns with his drink and he slips him a few bills. “You busy? Need some godfatherly advice?”
“I really do,” Steve says, feeling like he’s just transformed into a golden retriever as he happily follows Sirius Black to a table in the corner.
— —
“The thing is, I’m not actually a Gryffindor,” Steve says, very seriously as Sirius Black raises an eyebrow.
“No?” he asks.
Steve shakes his head. “Everyone thinks I am. They all think I’m… reckless. But it’s not being reckless, I have plans. I just also think well on my feet.”
“Okay.”
“And just because I’m not looking for power myself doesn’t mean I don’t understand power. I just want it to be in the right hands. I work for it to be in the right hands.”
“Just as long as you’re not in a cult or something.”
“Tony wishes,” Steve mutters, rolling his eyes.
“Who’s that?” Sirius asks, smiling.
He shakes his head. “Oh, it’s nothing.” And then he pauses, takes a breath, and says something out loud that he’s never before said out loud, “I’m a Slytherin.”
There’s a beat.
Sirius puts a hand on top of where Steve’s is on the table. “I’m a Hufflepuff,” he says in response.
Steve’s eyes widen. “Really?” he asks.
“People think I’m a Gryffindor, probably because I’m hot.” Steve snorts, an undignified sound. “But I’m just loyal. I’m loyal and work hard. Including my skin care routine, which is why I’m hot.”
“It’s not just your skin care routine,” Steve says.
“It’s not?” Sirius Black asks.
Steve shakes his head, then summons up a little Gryffindor courage to say, “I think you have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Sirius Black raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously hitting on me at the MuggleNet Comic Con party?”
Steve shrugs as the song changes to something that he knows is from High School Musical, only because he watched it with one of Sam’s nieces. “This party can’t get much worse, can it?”
“And here I was thinking that this party was just getting better.”
— —
They dance together. Maybe it’s weird for Harry Potter to be grinding up on Sirius Black, but it’s no weirder than Severus Snape making out with Queenie Goldstein or the group of five Slytherins and two Gryffindors who keep twirling each other around.
And then, when they get sick of everyone else, they find a quiet corner of the restaurant and slow dance to Magic Works — the Yule Ball song from the Goblet of Fire movie and share a slow, tender kiss.
Too bad Steve never gets his real name or his number.
But he does get a selfie of the two of them.
— —
The wanted poster is a stupid idea. He tweets it anyway.
Both he and his Sirius Black agree that the movie version of Sirius Black pales in comparison to the books.
But Steve’s Sirius Black looks great cropped into the movie’s wanted poster with the tweet:
Met this Sirius Black the other night. Could Twitter work some magic and help me find him?
It takes twenty minutes.
— —
Steve Rogers
Hi, is this Sirius Black (from last night)? This is Harry Potter. Was wondering if you’d like to get together some time and have some real firewhisky.
(212) 555-0713
Thought you’d send me a Patronus, not a text. How lame. But maybe we could get together for some firewhisky. Or maybe just a pumpkin pasty… I’ve got a goblin of a hangover right now.
(212) 555-0713
My name is Bucky btw
(212) 555-0713
And even if you’re some big hero……….. HP’s still my favorite
(212) 555-0713
Everyone gets swept up in all the stories and the legends and the side characters… they forget that Harry’s the best. Funny, brave, cool. I like him the best.
(212) 555-0713
I think I like you, too.