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“You know, you didn’t have to come all the way from Romania to sulk in your old room.”
Turning around, he’s greeted by the familiar smirk of Albus Potter. He walks over to Teddy slowly, sitting down and patting the spot next to him on the bed. “Come on, then. You came back at my request—you’d might as well talk to me.”
Of course, he couldn’t know just how much that was asking of Teddy. Between his dark, forever-ruffled hair and his startling green eyes, he was the spitting image of his father. And, as much as Teddy loved dragons and mountains and his pseudo-uncle Charlie, he didn’t flee to Romania three years earlier for any of those things.
The sting of the rejection was fresh as the day it happened, burned into his long-term memory with cruel clarity.
“I’m serious, Teddy. You deserve so much more.”
He levelled Harry with a glare at the familiar refrain, though Teddy could admit to himself that it sounded concerningly more resolved when said in the daylight, with all articles of clothing still on, rather than in the usual post-sex guilt spiral. He had never understood the guilt—surely two unattached consenting adults were more than capable of having a relationship without it needing to be someone’s fault?
“I want you,” he said back, his mouth forming a petulant pout that Harry—again, concerningly—didn’t kiss away.
“I can’t risk it, Teds. I don’t know what I would do if something caused a rift between us.”
Teddy, in all the infinite wisdom of a jilted twenty-six-year-old, decided to do just that. If Harry thought he wasn’t mature enough, he’d show him exactly how immature he could be.
In hindsight, it hadn’t been his best plan. Charlie had been delighted to have him, but he knew he’d hurt all of the Potters with his less-than-planned departure. He couldn’t even bring himself to visit—at least, until Al made refusing all but impossible.
“Are you and Scorp ready then?” he asks, hoping that his voice sounds much less flat than it feels. If Al’s face is any indication, he’s not successful.
“We’ve been ready for years,” he replies, a small but genuine smile playing across his lips. A wave of relief washes over Teddy at the realisation that he’s not as dead inside as he sometimes feels, his own mouth quirking to match Al’s.
“Yeah, I suppose if anyone has been, it’s you two,” he agrees, nudging Al lightly with his shoulder. He nudges Teddy back before standing and running a hand through his hair—Teddy only barely manages to hold back a flinch at the familiar and obviously genetic nervous tic.
“So, the rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night, and James will be working on coordinating it with you. Hide out all you want, I suppose—though I can’t be blamed for what Lils will do to you if you don’t spend any time with her while you’re here—” Al cuts off with a shudder before continuing. “But at least go find Jamie before the day’s over, yeah?”
Teddy casts a cheeky wandless Tempus before grinning at Al. “It might be difficult, but I’m sure I can find a brief break in my schedule of being an antisocial twat to cross the hall to James’ room.” Al gives a snort of laughter and rolls his eyes before slipping out of the room, leaving Teddy to his wallowing once more.
He had heard Harry and Draco—and fuck, was that a gut punch when he’d first arrived—leave not long ago, so this window of time was probably the best he’d get to talk to James without risking more awkward encounters than were strictly necessary. Standing from the bed, he pushes the door all the way open and walks the short distance across the corridor to James’ room.
“Come in,” he hears through the crack of the nearly closed door and swings it open before stopping in his tracks.
This couldn’t be—it wasn’t possible that this was really James Potter. The little Jamie he’d chased frogs with, the boy with the map of freckles across his face in the summer, the same teenager whose constant companion had been a shit-eating grin—this couldn’t be him.
Teddy gulps—audibly, embarrassingly—as his eyes rove over the expanse of tanned skin, the lines of James’ abdomen, the trail of dark hair leading from his navel down to disappear under the waistband of the joggers slung low on his hips. The slight jut of his hipbones, the definition of his shoulders—Teddy couldn’t decide where to refuse to look first.
“Jamie,” he tries not to croak because, surely, this boy—man—who used to look at Teddy with dazed hazel eyes and a goofy grin as soon as he’d hit puberty, surely this person couldn’t be the same as that one.
“Ted!” He’s suddenly engulfed in a warm embrace, fighting the instinct to run his hands all over James’ back as his godbrother pulls back with a brilliant smile. “I can’t believe it’s really you—that you’re actually here.”
“You’ve, er—” he struggles to shove the words ‘gotten bloody fit’ back down his throat to the pit of depravity they clearly escaped from, “been slaving away for the Falcons, eh?”
Not his best recovery, but not his worst. James chuckles, pushing at his shoulder with a good-natured grin.
“Well, not all of us dodge dragon fire for a living—have to stay in shape somehow,” he shoots back, shaking his head. “You—you look good, Teddy. Really good.”
Teddy feels a traitorous blush stain his cheeks—and gods, what is even the point of having Metamorphmagus powers if he can’t prevent that—but is thankfully saved when James continues speaking.
“So, how’d you get roped into this?”
Safe enough topic. “You’re looking at Scorpius’ best man,” Teddy says with a grin.
James snorts softly at that. “Should’ve known. Al’s never been good at sharing, so it’s not surprising that you’re the best friend Scorp has aside from Al himself.” James tilts his head at Teddy for a moment, as if trying to figure something out, before shaking it and grinning again. “Too bad you missed the stag do, of course. The two of them were a right sight.”
Teddy laughs, having heard bits and pieces of the story. “So attached at the hip they couldn’t even enjoy their obligatory last night of freedom. At least we know divorce will never be on the horizon for them.”
Naturally, this line of conversation brings up memories of Harry—freshly divorced from Ginny, exploring the new reality of his life—with Teddy. Not that James knew anything about that last part.
“So, I’ve got the details set and all, just will need some help with the final setup tomorrow in the yard.” Teddy nods at James’ words. The rehearsal dinner before the wedding was to be held at the Potter residence, while the main event the following day would take place in the expansive gardens of Malfoy Manor.
“I’ll be there,” he says.
“You’d better. I think Al would hex you if you missed it,” James replies, walking back over to his bed to lay across it. “So, what are you up to tonight? We could hang out here, if you don’t have any other plans.”
His attention divided quite unevenly between the sight of James’ body splayed across the bed and the sound of his words, Teddy barely registers the offer. He manages to decipher just enough to know that staying in James’ room alone with him to catch up would be a really bad idea.
“Ah, I’m pretty tired from the travel—” because an international portkey is just so taxing, he berates himself, “so I think I’ll turn in early. I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow though?”
He thinks James’ eyes dim slightly with disappointment, but he can’t be sure—he’s really not inclined to believe anything he sees after setting eyes on James tonight. “Yeah, alright then,” he says, giving Teddy a small grin before laying back into his pillows. “Tomorrow then.”
After finally escaping back to his room, Teddy takes a huge gulp of air in a useless effort to recover.
Fucking hell. He’d expected seeing Harry to be an obstacle—he had not anticipated any difficulty regarding James.
He thinks back to the time he usually avoids—the period shortly before he left England. James had been just starting out his Quidditch career, still maintaining the body and arrogance that had accompanied him throughout his youth. He’d always given special attention to Teddy—some sort of lingering childhood crush, he had assumed—but Teddy had been too busy trying to keep Harry to reciprocate.
One thing was clear now—this was not the same Jamie who had chased him relentlessly while he had been focused on an entirely different Potter. He had grown up.
And Teddy was well and truly screwed.
*
Breakfast had not proven any easier.
Hard as he tries, Teddy cannot drag his eyes from the tiny drop of cream lingering at the corner of James’ mouth. There has to be a better place to deal with these thoughts—like anywhere besides the breakfast table with the entire Potter contingent. Maybe he’ll just tell him, then he can swipe it away with his tongue—fucking hell. Teddy shifts in his seat, willing the discomfort in his groin to settle before speaking.
Clearing his throat, Teddy starts, “James, you, er—”
“He’s trying to say you look like a wanker walking around the house with no clothes on, but he’s too polite,” Al interrupts conversationally as he enters the kitchen, swiping a piece of toast off the platter before sliding into an empty seat next to Teddy.
“Albus, language. James,” Harry looks at his eldest son and sighs tiredly. “Go put a shirt on.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna lose my breakfast at this rate,” Lily mutters in agreement.
James walks by, flicking Al on the ear before wrapping his arms around Lily’s shoulders, taking obvious delight in her disgusted scoff.
“Ah, my loving family,” he says brightly, grabbing a scone as he turns to leave the kitchen. Teddy keeps his eyes determinedly trained on the clock, refusing to watch James as he exits the room. His periphery finds Harry looking at him with a searching look, and he stares at the numbers harder. If looking at James was a problem, looking at Harry was a suicide mission.
It’s Saturday morning—only two more days. He can surely survive that long without making a fool of himself.
“Teddy—Draco and I are going to get the final fitting for our robes. I know you just got in yesterday, so if you wanted to go with us—” Blood rushes in Teddy’s ears, drowning out the sound of Harry’s voice as he pushes his chair back with a screech that returns him to his body.
“Sorry, Harry, can’t right now. Gotta go, er, find James. Discuss the dinner details.” The very finalised dinner details, but Teddy would take one thousand stilted conversations with a shirtless James before one shopping trip with Harry and Draco. “I’ll go later.”
Harry dips his head, that frustrating wounded puppy look crossing his face before he schools it back into a neutral expression. “As you wish. I’ll tell them you’ll stop by later.”
Teddy gives him a short nod before fleeing the kitchen and bolting for the staircase.
Sure, it may have been the coward’s approach, but Teddy never claimed to be a Gryffindor. He is, however, annoyingly true to his word, and his feet steer him towards James’ room, pushing gently at the slightly ajar door.
“James,” he says softly, and James’ eyes flick to him instantly, a surprised but pleased look plastered on his face.
“What’s up, Teddy?”
“I just wanted to check—” right, James had told him the details for the rehearsal dinner were set, bugger, “—that everything for tonight is—” He cuts off once again, shaking his head before saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Lunch? We could go, then get the robes fitted,” he proposes cautiously, both relieved and slightly apprehensive when he sees James’ face light up, tossing the Quidditch magazine he had been reading to the side as he stands from the bed.
“Yeah, let’s do it!” He claps Teddy on the back on the way to his wardrobe where he thankfully (tragically) finds a shirt. “I was worried you’d be too busy to spend any time together while you were here—this is perfect,” James confesses, and Teddy feels his stomach swoop at the earnest tone nearly as much as when he’d been ogling James’ abs.
“I’ll always have time for you, Jamie,” he says before he can think better of it. James grins at him—how many others have fallen victim to that lethally soft expression—before he leads them from the room.
Teddy can picture about a million ways this could go sideways, but at least he won’t be spending the next few hours with his ex-… ex-something. This can only be an improvement.
*
At first, Teddy struggles not to see Harry everywhere in James. From the desert tumbleweed state of his hair—although slightly lighter, with a pronounced Weasley undertone—to his straight nose and the shape of his jaw, his looks are almost painful. James is like the sun—impossible to look at and even more impossible to avoid.
Of course, the second his godbrother opens his mouth, Teddy is dissuaded from all Harry notions. James is loud, and he makes inappropriate jokes, and he’s almost recklessly self-assured.
The worst difference, however, is that James, unlike his father, is exceptionally perceptive. Oh, Harry had certainly made a name for himself with his instincts and unorthodox problem-solving skills as an Auror, but James was perceptive in a dangerous way.
He could read Teddy like a first year spellbook.
“You okay, mate?”
This had only been asked of Teddy about four times in the hour they’d been out of the house. He probably should have foreseen the difficulty of trying to hide multiple secrets from his best friend in the whole world, but Teddy had unfortunately underestimated James.
“Of course,” he answers, trying to effect a tone of confusion as he responds. After all, if he was truly unbothered, he’d have no idea why James would be asking. Certainly, his miniscule flinch as they’d passed the Muggle pub Harry used to sometimes take them to when Teddy had begged him to go out and do something together—something outside of a bed, of course—could have been a particle of dust from the air hitting his face. His micro expressions shouldn’t have meant anything—to anyone else but James, that is.
“If you’re sure,” James echoes once more, leading them through the Leaky and into Diagon Alley. “There’s a good place to eat round this corner—” They see a sleek sign which reads THE HUNGRY HORNTAIL in block letters, and Teddy follows James inside.
“So,” James begins after they’d both placed their orders, folding his hands on the table in front of him. “I feel it’s my responsibility to warn you.”
Teddy tries not to pale at the words, memories with Harry flashing before his mind quicker than he can register. “Warn?” he asks warily.
“Yes. It’s just—with it being family, I hope it’s not awkward that I’m talking to you about this—” Teddy’s throat closes up in a panic before James’ next words surface. “It’s Vic. She’s determined to make this weekend count, if you know what I mean.”
Teddy can’t fully restrain his bark of laughter as relief washes over him. Victoire. Of course.
“She is?” he asks, amusement colouring his tone.
“Yep. She apparently never got the owl.” Teddy tilts his head in question as James shrugs. “That you don’t date people your own age.”
“I don’t—what?” Far from his most eloquent response, but he sees a faint blush rise in James’ cheeks before he responds.
“I just meant—Charlie mentioned someone on the reserve…”
Fuck. He had nearly forgotten about Thomas.
“He was—it was—” He tries to think of what else to say before furrowing his brow. “How did that come up?” he asks instead.
James’ cheeks redden further, his Weasley genes betraying him as he turns his face down, suddenly very interested in his hands. “Um, well, I was just,” he trails off and finally looks up, and Teddy almost wants to turn his own gaze to the table rather than see the beseeching look in James’ eyes. “Wanted to make sure you were alright. You left so—so suddenly.”
And what could Teddy even say to that? “Yeah, sorry about that. Your dad finally got sick of fucking me, and I couldn’t spend even one more morning sitting across the breakfast table from him or any of his mini clones”?
“I’m sure that was difficult for you. I’m sorry,” he replies quietly instead, letting out a soft gasp at the feeling of James’ warm palm resting on top of his hand.
“You’re here now,” James says simply, removing his hand after a too-short moment and giving Teddy a teasing smile. “And, lucky for you, I happen to be between guys at the moment, so I will be entirely free to act as your buffer with Vic at the wedding tomorrow.”
Screwed doesn’t even come close to describing him now.
*
Teddy groans, rolling over as he squints his eyes against the rays of sunlight breaching his curtains.
It was finally here. Less than twenty-four hours stood between him and his reprieve from the madness of being in the Potter house. He could take his return portkey with Charlie after the wedding, unshackled by lingering thoughts of Harry’s future with Draco or James’ Quidditch-toned body.
He could do this. He’d dealt with beasts more than ten times his size threatening to burn him to a crisp—surely a wedding couldn’t be that dangerous.
Standing from the bed, he ruffles his turquoise hair to get it to a slightly more presentable state before grabbing his wash kit and heading for the loo.
Fifteen minutes and a pleasantly warm shower later, he begins to head back to his room before he notices James’ door cracked barely open.
Might as well say hello, he thinks, changing direction and pushing at it gently. Before he’s opened it enough to stick his head in, he hears a softly muttered “Teddy” and looks in curiously.
“Yeah, Jam—” He cuts off abruptly, his eyes trained on James who has his eyes closed and lips parted as a movement disturbs the duvet cover draped over his bent legs.
“Teddy?” he hears, confused by the panic colouring James’ voice, until he connects the very obvious dots. James in bed, James not having a chance to notice Teddy’s arrival, James’ hand hidden somewhere under the covers—the movement under said covers. “Fuck, Teddy, I—”
As horrible as he feels about it, he bolts from the room, crossing the hallway to his own bedroom before slamming the door closed behind him.
James had been—
He’d been wanking—to thoughts of Teddy.
His own thoughts scattered like marbles, he gives no regard to the action as he shoves one hand down the front of his own pyjama bottoms. His cock is already hard from the revelation, and he guiltlessly uses the recent memories of his unintentional voyeurism to bring himself off. He vanishes the mess on his clothes after finishing—in near record time, but he couldn’t spare any brain power for that train of thought—and leans his head back against the door, breathless with exertion of both a physical and mental nature.
James had—
Every time he attempts to think about it, he feels a competing impulse to pass out or strip his cock until he’s raw. People aren’t meant to engage in critical thinking—in planning—under these conditions.
He would just have to forget about it. It was the only option that could get him through the day in one piece.
*
The ceremony is beautiful. Teddy smiles softly as he watches his cousin meet Albus at the altar, both boys looking so adorably dumbstruck that he nearly laughs. The tiniest spark of envy ignites in Teddy’s gut for a second before he extinguishes it. He’s only twenty-nine—just because he hadn’t found that one person for him yet didn’t mean that he was doomed to live a life of solitude.
After escaping the photographers still diligently documenting the happy couple, he slinks past the other guests to a quieter part of the gardens.
After Lucius had been placed behind bars for his part in the war, Narcissa had not hesitated to reach out to her estranged sister. His Nan—prior to her death—had arranged many a play date in these very gardens for him and his younger cousin, Scorpius usually overcome with giggles as he ran after Teddy through the winding hedges. They dodged the unfriendly peacocks, bartered with the more reasonable ones with bread baked by the Malfoy elves, and climbed trees with reckless abandon. He knew Harry had his own well-earned issues with Malfoy Manor from the days of the war, but it had always felt like home to Teddy.
“Teddy?”
Ah, fuck.
“Vic, hey,” he says, turning to face his closest schoolfriend with a grin. “It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”
Victoire throws her silvery hair over her shoulder, her lightly freckled face lighting up as she looks him up and down. “Teddy Lupin, as I live and breathe,” she says, exaggeratedly fanning herself with one hand. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more fit.” She slowly approaches him, her gait similar to that of a cat who had found a particularly fat mouse.
He tries to subtly step back, cursing internally when he feels the branches of the hedges pressed against his shoulder blades.
“Did you miss me?” she whispers when she’s close enough—too close, if Teddy’s opinion counts for anything—and she reaches up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead just as he jolts in surprise from the bark of his name coming from his left side.
He snaps his head around, eyes landing on his saviour—the son of one, most would say, but Teddy was certain he owed James his life right then.
“Sorry, Vic. Just need to borrow Ted for a moment,” James says gruffly, reaching them and tugging Teddy behind him as he strides away with purpose.
“What’s going on, did I miss something?” he asks, but James only offers a conciliatory smile as turns around to face him.
“No, but I almost did,” he says, his eyes flitting back to the direction they had just come from. “I promised I’d protect you.”
Teddy wants to laugh at the thought—Jamie, protecting him from anything—but instead finds himself slumping his shoulders and shooting James a grateful grin.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” he replies ruefully, pushing lightly at James’ shoulder. “I remember when you used to tell me that Al was hiding snakes under your bed and you needed me to save you.”
James’ look turns indignant at the reminder and his mouth drops open before closing with a purse of his lips. “Alright, first of all, Al really was putting snakes under my bed—sneaky little Slytherin, that one,” he defends, much to Teddy’s amusement. “And second, I never looked half as desperate for a lifeline as you did back there with Vic.”
Unfortunately, James’ words ring too true to deny and he merely sighs and rests back against the stone wall of the landscaping.
“Fine, you brat.” He meets James’ gaze for a too long moment before adding in a soft murmur, “Thank you.”
James smiles at him—a tentative, hopeful thing—before pulling him along once more.
“Where exactly are we going?”
James looks over his shoulder and moves his thumb gently against the inside of Teddy’s wrist for a half second before responding. “Open bar. And dancing—you owe me,” he says decisively, and Teddy’s own grin widens as he surrenders to James’ whims, allowing him to drag him to the party.
*
“I can’t believe I almost missed this,” he murmurs, passing the bottle of Ogden’s back to James after a large swig.
“Hm?”
Teddy sighs, his body relaxed and his mind somehow even looser. “Didn’t want to come back,” he confesses, dragging his shoe over a small acorn. He and James, in desperate need of a dance break, had wandered to a less trafficked area of the gardens, sitting against a pair of trees. They faced each other, the metre-wide space between them feeling too narrow and too expansive all at once.
James frowns as he takes a drink, passing the liquor back to Teddy. “Why not? Were we really that miserable to be around?” he asks, and Teddy’s eyes squeeze shut as he feels his heart clench in his chest at the query.
“Jamie, no,” he says, intending his tone to be soothing, though he thinks it comes out almost chastising. “You didn’t do anything. It has nothing to do with you.”
He hopes the words will relax James, but, if anything, his frown seems to deepen. “Of course it doesn’t,” he mutters, his gaze dropping to the ground where he crunches a leaf underfoot.
Teddy furrows his brows in confusion, setting the bottle aside before shifting forward to get closer to James. James raises his head, and in the dim glow of the distant fairy lights, Teddy can see the faint flecks of gold standing out among the green and brown in James’ eyes.
“What do you mean by that?” he asks him, unable to keep the worry out of his tone entirely.
James looks at him for a moment tilting his face towards his lap. “It’s nothing—” he starts to say, but Teddy reaches a hand out before he realises it, taking James’ chin in a light grasp to turn his face back up.
“If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing,” he almost whispers—the space between them suddenly feeling far too small for a conversational volume—and waits. Just waits. Whatever James needs to get off his chest, it can’t be rushed. He meets James’ eyes encouragingly, suppressing any less appropriate response of his body when James parts his lips, letting out a warm puff of air that hits Teddy with all the subtlety of a Bludger.
“You never thought of me, did you?”
Teddy couldn’t picture a more ambiguous response. He has thought of James so much—since he was about six years old, no one had occupied more space in his mind. “What do you mean?” he repeats. “I think about you all the time. You’re—” He cuts off, collecting his thoughts before his mouth does something mutinous. “You’re my best friend, Jamie. I think about you so much. And, I know you don’t seem to believe this, but I have thought, all too much probably, about how my leaving would have affected you. It was never right or fair, but I don’t want you to think that I never gave it a second thought because—”
His rambling is abruptly halted by the sensation of soft, warm lips on his, a hand winding around the back of his neck. James is kissing him. James. Jamie. And—fuck, he’s good at it, too.
He leans forward slightly, pressing James back against the tree as his body pushes past its state of shock. He swipes his tongue across the seam of James’ lips, groaning at the feeling of James’ tongue sliding against his. He feels more than hears the moan from James’ throat as he deepens the kiss, and Teddy finally returns to himself enough to draw back and rest their foreheads together.
“Teddy,” James breathes, and his voice sounds devastatingly unsure—like he’s worried that Teddy is preparing to bolt, or laugh at him, or something equally cruel. Of course, it’s no wonder James has this expectation—Teddy has done nothing but bolt lately. He bolted out of James’ room this morning, and two nights before that, and three years before that. Teddy had professionalised avoidance, and James was all too aware of that.
“You never thought of me like I thought of you. I’ve been half in love with you for the last eight years—” and Teddy did not have the stomach to imagine what James’ ill-fated crush on him at fifteen would have entailed, “—but you’ve always only seen me as—as some sort of kid brother. Like Al.” He shudders for a moment before ploughing ahead. “I can’t chase you anymore,” he says quietly, and Teddy’s heart seizes with panic at the thought that James could be done with him.
“What if you didn’t need to?” The words escape him in a moment of desperation, but Teddy can feel in his bones how earnest they are. “Jamie, do you truly believe that I kiss someone I think of as a brother like that?” He smirks slightly at the pinkening of James’ cheeks before his expression melts into something softer. “I don’t know how much you’ve noticed, but I’ve spent the better part of the last forty-eight hours avoiding looking at you, and it’s not because you’re hideous,” he mutters, relaxing a bit at the grin that begins to spread across James’ face.
“Yeah?” he asks with a playful undercurrent in his tone, and Teddy grins back at him. “So, you wouldn’t mind then if I just decided to do,” he shifts his hand from the ground onto Teddy’s thigh, “this?” Watching Teddy’s expression, he moves it up, further, and further still, until it rests right on the crease where his thigh meets his groin.
“I’d only mind if you stop there,” he says challengingly, bracketing James against the tree as he hovers over him slightly, leaning down to latch his mouth onto James’ neck. He kisses the skin softly, teasingly, delighting in the breathy sounds suddenly coming from James as he winds his fingers through Teddy’s turquoise locks.
“Fuck, Teddy, we don’t ever have to stop,” he manages to reply between gasps and moans, each sound shooting directly to Teddy’s cock. Without removing his mouth from James’ neck, he uses one hand to move James’ hand a little to the right, until his palm rests as a warm weight on top of his erection.
“Teddy, can I—” James cuts himself off as he starts to rub his hand experimentally over Teddy, his own sounds now mingling with James’ as he presses himself against James. He pulls his hand away and lines up their bodies enough to be able to feel James’ now-hard length against his.
“Too,” a gasp, “many,” a gentle tug on his hair, bringing him face to face with Jamie, “layers,” James rasps, pressing his lips against Teddy’s again and opening his mouth almost instantly to stroke Teddy’s tongue with his own.
Teddy pulls James forward to nearly straddle him and they grind their hips together, using friction alone to relieve some of the pressure that had been building for the last several minutes—or, more accurately, two days—between them.
“Teddy, fuck, I’m close,” James whines against his neck, and he brings a hand around to squeeze James’ arse and pull him that much closer just before he cries out, letting Teddy feel the warmth spreading across his own groin as James comes. Seeing James fall apart for him triggers his own release, and he pulls James down to lay half on top of him as they pointedly ignore the stickiness between them.
“Jamie,” he murmurs, pushing some of James’ hair off of his forehead and placing a gentle kiss there. “Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he praises, and feels James hum happily against his shoulder.
“Do we have to go back?” James says sleepily, his breath warming Teddy’s skin through his dress shirt. He laughs, pulling James close for another few moments before shifting them to sit up.
“Regretfully,” he answers, and he can’t keep the disappointment out of his voice as it hits him that he only has a few more hours to spend with James. Maybe he could talk to Charlie, arrange for a delay to the following day.
James stands, brushing some dirt from his clothes as Teddy chuckles and casts a Cleaning Charm over both of them. Biting his lip, he reaches for James’ hand and feels his stomach swoop pleasantly as James threads their fingers together, squeezing him lightly.
“I hope Dad didn’t notice we were gone for so long,” James says apropos of nothing, and Teddy makes a stunning yet welcome realisation.
He hadn’t thought of Harry even once when he was with James.
His mouth quirking into a blissful grin, he squeezes James’ hand again and pulls him round a corner where a small bench sits surrounded by tall hedges.
“I bet we wouldn’t be missed for another, oh, half hour or so,” he says mischievously, and James lets out a delighted laugh before kissing him again.
Sometimes, Teddy realises as he smiles against James’ lips, it takes losing something to see what’s been right in front of you the whole time.