James, in his not so long life of twenty-one years, has never been too fond of the night. There were just too many things about it that he couldn't get comfortable with.

Like the darkness, for one.

And the silence.

And all the thoughts that come to him when he's lying in bed, thoughts that never reach him during the day. They're never good thoughts either, they always end up starving him of sleep.

Which is why, at something past one in the morning, he's leaning his elbows on the railing of the balcony and looking up at the waxing moon.

He wonders if Remus ever looks at the moon. If its growing size makes him worry.

The stars aren't very visible. They never really are, where Sirius lives. And James' mind is as clogged with fragmented thoughts as the sky is with the smoky haze that plagues the city.

"Can't sleep?"

Auguste.

James whirls around. Auguste is leaning against the doorway, a couple feet away from him.

"Take a guess," James sighs, turning back.

Auguste comes to stand next to him, close enough for James to feel his presence, but not enough for them to touch.

"What is it?" Auguste asks. James looks at him out of the corner of his eye. He's leaning against the railing, facing the opposite direction as James. His elbows are resting on the cool metal. And he's looking at James.

James shakes his head, dropping his head on to his hands. He wants to cry.

"Wanna make out?"

Well, that was blunt. James' head whips up so fast he thinks it's going to fly off. Auguste is watching him with a perfectly cool gaze, and when James' eyes meet his, his eyebrows draw upwards and his lips curve into a suggestive smirk.

"Merlin, is this what you do when you get sad?" James huffs, straightening his back. "Kiss your feelings away?"

"No," Auguste shrugs, "I usually fuck them away. And it works every time,"

James gives him an incredulous look.

"I'm sorry for trying to help," Auguste rolls his eyes, pushing himself off the railing and moving towards the door. "If you don't want to—"

James grabs his elbow. Surely, this is madness. But then again, James Potter has always been a little mad. "I didn't say that," he says softly, trying to ignore the alarming pace of his heart, which rattles its way through his chest. Why is he so nervous about this?

Auguste blinks a few times, probably only now realising just how mad James is.

"Wait," Auguste frowns, "I just remembered that you have a girlfriend..."

"Not anymore, I don't," James grins, a little too wide to pass as genuinely happy.

Auguste's eyes go wide. "Is it because of me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Bellerose," James laughs, "It happened before that." James watches Auguste as he tries to make sense of it. "Can we get to the making out, now?"

Auguste looks at him again, eyebrows furrowed, like he's trying to decide if James is joking or just that desperate. Whatever he decides, he doesn't seem to mind, because he grabs James by the face and drives their lips together, pushing James into the railing. For a moment, even as his hands cup Auguste's neck, James wonders if Auguste is trying to push him off and end it once and for all.

And when the kiss loses its momentum and slows down into a soft pressing of lips, James thinks that even if Auguste isn't going to murder him by pushing him off, he's going to do it with his kissing. Because by Morgana, he's so good at it.

And so much different from Lily.

Oh Merlin, Lily.

James gives Auguste's shoulder a small nudge, making him pull away. His hands drop from James' cheeks and on to his chest.

"Look," James says, his voice soft and embarrassingly breathless, "I still have feelings for Lily and..." James' heart lurches in his chest as her name leaves his mouth. "And I don't know if I'm using you as a... a... you know," James closes his eyes, really wishing that Auguste did push him off.

"That's alright," Auguste says, placing his chin on James' shoulder. It's weird, because... well, because they've been trying to chop each other's heads off ever since they met. James is glad that he can't see Auguste's face. "I still have feelings for Sirius—"

James shoves him off like he's on fire. "You what?"

Auguste is frowning, rubbing at his chest where James pushed him. Auguste has always been a blunt person—as well demonstrated by that Wanna make out?—and James always thought it really annoying. Until he started thinking of it as kind of adorable.

But did he just say that he has feelings for Sirius?

"I knew it," James frowns, "I knew it. So that's why you're always with Sirius? Are you trying to sabotage his relationship with Remus?" Not that Sirius had that much of a relationship with Remus to begin with, of course, but...

"James..."

A horrifying thought occurrs to James. What if the reason Sirius was so back and forth was not that he was a blind idiot? What if it was... Auguste?

"Or have you done it already?" He asks, sharp and abrupt like throwing a knife.

They weren't in a noisy place, but it somehow feels like the atmosphere goes even quieter. Like everything just stills. It feels cold and uncomfortable and a little bit like regret. Actually, it feels a lot like regret, especially when James sees how Auguste's face falls.

"What are you trying to say?" He asks shakily.

James doesn't know how he should feel about any of this. He lets his mind do a random pick, and it comes up with angry. So angry it is. "I'm not trying to say anything," James says, trying to sound calm and collected and everything he's not. "I'm asking you."

"Asking me what?" Auguste sounds frustrated, and it makes James angry because he has no right. All the nights Sirius has spent getting drunk with Auguste...

"Asking if you're trying to get Sirius to... oh, I don't know..." James has never been too good with words. "To like you back. Or stop liking other people, like Remus."

Auguste looks at him like he just murdered six kittens. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you literally just said that you still like him. Which makes me think that you've liked him for some time. Not that it matters... And don't even think for a second that I don't know what the two of you do—"

"Shut up," Auguste snaps, grabbing James' by his collar. James grabs his wrists, but he doesn't let go. "You don't know anything,"

"Yes," James says bitterly, "I'm starting to think I really don't. But what  I do know is that you need to stay away from Sirius. You've never been good for him,"

"I've never been good for him?" Auguste growls, tightening his grip on James. "Then who is? You?"

James frowns, finally managing to shove him off. "I'm not the one who's always dragging him around to get drunk, knowing how he gets, am I?"

When Auguste's eyes fall on his again, cold and angry, James thinks he's actually going to get pushed off. But Auguste only takes a step back, a humourless smile etching itself on his lips. "James Potter, forever the genius," he laughs. "Tell me," his smile disappears along with any trace of warmth James was feeling. "Has it ever occurred to you that it's during the one time that he did get drunk without me that he ended up driving himself into a ditch?"

It's like a bucket of cold water was just poured over James. He would've taken a step back if he wasn't already trapped against the railing.

"I'm..." James chokes out. He's never thought about it this way, and shit, he just fucked up so bad. His hand reaches out for Auguste, his body trying to speak what he can't find the words for, but Auguste jerks back even further.

"Go to hell, James," he says coldly and walks away.

***

Author's Note

I cannot even begin to tell you how entirely shit my life is going rn. I won't go into detail but let's sum it up to : I have ✨relapsed✨

So anyway I had a plot for this book, right? And I'm also shit depressed, right? And depression fucks with your memory, right? Which is how I've forgotten the rest of the damned plot. I'll figure it out ofc but like, I can't rn it's just too much.

Anyways I hope you're all doing well. It's been a while and all that. Pray for me, guys. Love you xx