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Gryffindor wins the match.
How could they not, with two Potters on the pitch?
As the stands erupt into celebration around him, Sirius cheers with his housemates, hollering in victory as he claps so hard his palms ache. Above the stands, James is doing laps, arms in the air as the other chasers flit around him.
One of them clips him, nearly knocking him off his broom, and Sirius cackles.
Unbidden, his gaze turns higher, where Harry—far above the chaos with the snitch still fluttering in his hand—is laughing too. And Sirius knows he’s too far away to really tell, but he can almost see the way his eyes scrunch up when he’s really, honestly happy. Face flushed from the wind and exertion both, he must be glowing.
He puts two fingers in his mouth, lets out a piercing whistle.
Harry looks down at him, waves.
Sirius waves back, cheeks hurting from the grin stretched across his face.
He’s never seen someone fly so fast. James has always been gifted, probably the best chaser Gryffindor has ever had in its ranks, but Harry is something else. It’s beyond impressive, and Sirius can’t get enough.
And it isn’t weird, no matter what Peter says; he’s hardly obsessed . It’s just that Harry Potter is a beast in the air, as beautiful (his flying, that is, not—) as he is brave.
It’s just that Sirius could watch him forever and never get bored.
It’s fine.
He just…doesn’t need to tell James about it, that’s all. Because James doesn’t need to know how much Sirius admires his younger brother—his younger brother’s flying, that is. Because there’s nothing to know.
…Right.
By the time Sirius reaches the common room, one arm slung over James’s shoulders as they strut through the halls with half the quidditch team in tow, the party is in full swing.
The moment they’re through the portrait hole, a cheer starts up as Gryffindors of all ages swarm them, slapping James on the back and congratulating him for the game. Sirius is gently buffeted to the side, but he doesn’t mind.
Tall as he is, he still has to rise onto the balls of his feet to get a good look around.
No Harry.
He tells himself he isn’t disappointed, and soon enough, thanks to the drink shoved into his hand and James’s insistence on recapping the game, play by play, he’s distracted enough that it’s true.
Another wave of cheers announces Harry’s arrival nearly an hour later. James is on him immediately, pulling him into a back slapping hug. As soon as he’s released, it’s Sirius’s turn, and he takes the opportunity to speak into Harry’s ear (and maybe smell his shampoo, sue him). “We missed you earlier.”
“Sorry,” Harry says as he pulls away, grinning. Sirius wonders if he’s imagining the way his hands linger. “Had to say hi to a friend.”
“You have friends?” James butts in to ask.
Sirius feels a sharp pinch of irritation, soothed only when Harry laughs, shoving James good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Obviously. Since someone wouldn’t share,” Harry says, ignoring James’s squawk of protest, “I had to go out and find my own.”
Before James can retort, someone starts up a chant—just for Harry this time.
He takes it much better than he used to, back when he first got onto the team, when he would blush and stammer through protests before giving up and hiding behind the closest available body.
Now, he only grins, lowering into a graceful bow.
Sirius very pointedly doesn’t stare at his arse. Instead, he takes another gulp of his drink.
“Yeah, yeah,” James says once Harry rises. He curls one arm around Harry’s neck and uses it to pull him off balance, grinding his knuckles against his hair. “Live it up, hotshot, just don’t forget—”
“No game without the chasers,” Harry quotes from memory, jabbing his fingers into James’s side to escape. Once he’s free, he shakes his hair out of his eyes, laughing. “I know. You’ve only told me a million times.”
James scoffs, getting in one last hair ruffle before he finally retreats to Lily’s side near the fire.
In his wake, Harry turns to Sirius, who finds himself caught off guard as ever by the dark green of his eyes, the way they gleam emerald in the light of the charmed lamps.
Impressed? those eyes seem to be asking.
Always, Sirius would tell him, except—except that’s too much, right?
Right.
“So,” Harry starts, rocking back onto his heels. He grins, and Sirius can’t help but grin back at him. “What’d you think?”
“I thought you were brilliant!” Sirius says, and he can’t resist sweeping Harry up into another hug, swinging him in a circle and almost bowling two people over with the force of Harry’s legs flying through the air. “Best seeker Hogwarts has ever seen!”
As soon as his feet are back on the ground, Harry clutches at his arms, cheeks flushed as he catches his breath from laughing too hard. “Thanks, Sirius,” he says, and Sirius was right, earlier.
He is glowing.
A wave of laughter breaks out just behind them, and Sirius jumps, glaring over his shoulder. When Harry grabs his hand, he startles again. “C’mon,” Harry says to his questioning glance. “It’s quieter over here.”
He leads them toward one of the alcoves branching off the main tower, meant for quiet studying in at least semi-privacy.
Sirius lets himself be led.
In hindsight, this may have been a mistake.
Instead of standing next to Harry in the overcrowded common room, they’re now sitting face to face on a small window seat. The spells meant to muffle sound make it feel even cozier, like they’re the only two people in the world.
This, and the way Harry shines when he smiles, is his only explanation he for what he does next. He takes Harry’s hand, and he asks, “Can I kiss you?”
At first, Harry looks startled, and Sirius’s heart stops. Then, Harry smiles again. He leans in. He says, “Yes.”
Eventually, his brain catches up with the rest of him, and he pulls back, panting. Forehead pressed to Harry’s, he says, “We shouldn't be doing this.”
Harry’s mouth turns down in a pout. It takes more effort than it should not to keep kissing it. “Why not?”
“You're James’s brother,” Sirius says, like that explains everything, which. It sort of does.
But Harry doesn’t cooperate. “Yeah, and you’re his best friend.” He tilts his head in honest confusion. Sirius despairs at how lovely he is. “Which means he already thinks you’re great.”
Somehow, he’s sure James won’t see it that way.
Reading his answer on his face, Harry sighs. “Sirius,” he says, all teasing gone. “Tell me: do you want to kiss me?”
Sirius’s gaze drops to his mouth. He clenches his hands into fists, because otherwise he’ll reach out to touch him again. Saying no would be a lie, and worse, it would be the coward’s way out. Because he does want to kiss Harry. In fact, he has for a while.
And now, apparently, he can.
Mind made up, he says, “I do.”
And of course, because Sirius’s life can never just be easy, that’s when James finds them.
“Really?” a familiar, drawling voice says.
Sirius flinches back from where he has Harry pressed against the wall, eyes wide as he catches sight of James standing by the alcove’s entry. Shit. “James, I—”
But James ignores him. Hands planted on his hips, he says, “Out of all my friends—”
“Three. Really not that many,” Harry mutters to Sirius, who shushes him.
“—you had to choose this one?” He jerks his thumb at Sirius.
At that, Sirius bristles, a strange mix of relief and offense making it difficult to know what to feel. At least, until Harry snorts with laughter and says, aiming a mischievous grin his way, “I happen to like this one.”
“Huh.” James tilts his head. Sirius braces himself for the threats that are sure to come. If he hadn’t been so worried, maybe he would have noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Alright, well. Harry, you should know, Sirius snores like a mother—”
“Okay!” Sirius yelps. He scrambles to his feet, shoves James out of the alcove and back toward the party before he can say anything else embarrassing. “Thank you, James. Feel free to leave now!”
And finally, he does, laughing all the way like the monster he is.
“Fucking Potter,” Sirius mutters, glaring at his back.
“I know, right,” Harry says, and he's laughing, too. Sirius whirls back to face him, losing his grip on any lingering annoyance. “We’re the worst.”
“Not all of you,” Sirius says. He drags his gaze over Harry’s relaxed frame, liking what he sees. “In fact, I think the younger one is pretty great.”
“Yeah?” Harry catches him by the hand, reels him back in. This time, when he grins, there’s a challenge in it. He tilts his chin up, as kissable as ever. “Prove it.”
So Sirius does, happily—over and over again.