Hogwash and Horsefeathers

i

Lily climbed into his lap not thirty minutes afterwards, hair wet and skin flushed from the hot water. James wrapped his arms around her wearily and reminded himself that this jumble of red and curves and tamed abhorrence was exactly what he wanted, what he'd sought after for more years than he cared to remember.

"Good game, Potter," she murmured, lacing her fingers through his own.

He hoped she couldn't smell the other boy on him.

"We played dirty. I shouldn't have let things get out of hand." He pressed his face into her back and almost choked on the scent of her hair. It was clean, of course, but flowery and delicate, distinctly Muggle and distinctly feminine. It was the stark opposite of everything he was accustomed to. He had yet to adjust to it.

He'd been waiting in the showers after the match, still dressed and staring despondently at the floor. James kissed him instead of meeting his eyes. He hadn't expected to feel guilty.

Lily snorted derisively. "Slytherin," she said, putting every ounce of loathing she could manage into the word. "They always play dirty. We just kept up with them."

James had pulled back for a moment, catching his breath, and found himself flat on his back the next. The hands on his body had been hurried and forceful, but the mouth on his own was gentle.

"Besides." Lily was oblivious to James' turmoil. "This was our last game, the last time any of us will ever play, and we won. That has to mean something to you."

If Quidditch was over, then so were games, and practices, and reasons to be in the locker rooms after hours. James caught his arm as he was leaving. "Goodbye, Snape."

He pressed his face into her hair again, barely able to stand it. "It was their last game too."

They'd never spoken before. The last James saw of him was a pair of flashing black eyes, expression dark and unreadable.

She turned quickly in his embrace, staring at him almost in awe. "You're a good man, James Potter."

He closed his eyes as she kissed him, and tried desperately to think of curves instead of angles.

ii

The girls on the team have a bit of a tradition, Sirius told him one night.

They'd had alcohol before, certainly, but this was their first experience with Firewhisky, and it was also the first time they'd drunk alone. Remus needed to sleep, he claimed, and Peter was hurrying to finish an essay due the following morning. They pulled James' curtains closed, shrugging, and eyed the bottle hesitantly. It went down easier after Sirius charmed it sweet.

Lily and Alice? James leaned closer, clumsy and intrigued.

Kirsten, too. Sirius took another swig. They bathe together. Showers after practice, baths after we win, really long baths if we lose. Hot, steamy affairs, no doubt.

So?

Sirius rolled his eyes, then made a rather vulgar hand motion. They're not just bathing, mate. It was a measure of James' shock that he didn't react.

I don't believe you. James' fingers brushed against Sirius' as he reached for the bottle, and for the first time in years, the silence between the two boys was awkward.

iii

It was set to rain the day of the match. James was waterproofing the team's leather equipment when he walked in, broom kit in hand.

They went through the paces, insulting each other's friends, mothers, and girlfriend (or lack thereof), but the fistfight was out of the ordinary. They had dueled over the years, screamed and hexed and cursed, but never before had they physically laid a hand on each other. Neither of them could throw a decent punch.

Looking back, the tongue in his mouth was a bigger surprise than the hand down his trousers.

They'd stumbled back against the lockers, hands rough and heavy and awkward, and James didn't need to think. Thinking led to all sorts of embarrassing questions, so for the time being, he just felt.

He left the locker room an hour earlier than he'd been planning on, flushed and confused. It was already raining, and he hadn't finished with the leather.

iv

Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned her blouse. That was the first unexpected thing. Lily was steady with everything.

"Have you ever..." She closed her eyes, hair spread over his pillow. "...you know, with a girl before?"

He shook his head. Technically, it was the truth. She hadn't asked about boys.

"No," he breathed when she opened her eyes, gazing up at him. He put his hands on her, nervously, and she trembled beneath him. It crossed his mind that they should have discussed this beforehand.

v

Shepherd's pie for dinner.

Sirius, who generally tore through food, inhaling whatever the elves sent up, was picking at his serving, digging through the vegetables, finding the hunks of steak with a single-minded ferocity.

James, eating at his usual speed, was perplexed. Something was different, though he couldn't put a finger on it.

It wasn't until Sirius charmed the mass of potatoes and vegetation warm again and offered it to Remus that he even vaguely understood.

Remus put down the bread he'd been absentmindedly munching and started to eat without a second glance at Sirius. He put one hand under the table as Sirius served himself again, though, and both boys grinned blindingly throughout the remainder of the meal.

When Remus told him the truth the next day, James realised that he'd already known.