HP one shots

looking twice // Sirry

Summary:

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.
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Notes:

Prompt: alternate universe (where Harry and James are related), mutual pining, quidditch

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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."