It's cold for mid-April, but the grass is dry, and the sky is still clear. A couple of first-years are playing Gobstones by the edge of the lake, and students are sprawled out in the courtyard, enjoying the spring sun when they aren't studying for their upcoming NEWTs and OWLs. James sits cross-legged on the lawn with Peter and Sirius, trying to finish his transmutation homework. It's like pulling teeth, especially with the other two boys snickering amongst themselves two feet away.

Then he hears it—your soft laugh, floating over from the lake.

James' eyes involuntarily flicker over towards you: you're a dot in the distance, sitting by the lake with Remus. He hardly notices the way his grip tightens on his quill, watching you tilt your head back as you laugh at something Remus said. He hasn't seen you smile or laugh like that today.

Oh, what an irrational thought. There's a very foreign feeling in his chest as he watches the pair of you from afar. Jealousy. His eyes follow your every move, even as he feigns nonchalance, laughing along with his friends. However, his attention is not wholly on the jokes being tossed around the circle of 'studying' students; half of it is locked on you and your conversation with Remus. He watches as you lean in closer, your eyes sparkling with shared laughter.

Moony isn't even funny. Why are you laughing so much? You should be laughing with him instead. He's your boyfriend, for Merlin's sake. Not stupid Remus with his stupid face and his stupid shy smile—

He swallows thickly, eyes averting. What is wrong with him today?

"Oi. Stop moping," Peter says, nudging his foot lazily. "You're the clever one. Help us out."

"I'm not moping," James argues defensively, shoving his friend's foot back with a lot more force than necessary. "Just waiting for you lot to catch up."

Behind him, Sirius snickers. He knows exactly what (read: who) is distracting him.

But then you say something, and laugh again. James hears Remus' laugh too and then—

He bristles. There it is again. That feeling. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. He's never had issues with jealousy before. He's a Potter! He's won the Quidditch League for Gryffindor time and time again. He's been able to pull any girl he wants since he was thirteen and had his first growth spurt.

... Ah. There's the problem, isn't it? He's projecting about his past. Bloody hypocrite sitting and moping over his partner having what's probably an innocent conversation with his best friend, as if he hadn't spent the entirety of fifth year snogging everyone that looked his way.

James lets out an exasperated sigh and tosses his quill down. He can't concentrate with the two of you being so loud. He pushes himself to his feet and ignores the comment Sirius makes about grass stains on his trousers, muttering something about needing the loo. It doesn't help that when he finally does return, you and Remus are nowhere to be found.

He doesn't bring it up. Well, he doesn't bring the jealousy part up. But later that night when you're both lounging on the Common Room, you settled with your back to his front and his legs bracketing your sides, he can't help but make the totally-casual-and-not-at-all-bothered comment:

"You're getting pretty chummy with Remus lately." A hand drifts absently up and down your arm, more to console himself than you. In an attempt to make it clear that he doesn't care (he absolutely does), he adds: "I mean, s'not a problem or anything." His hand stills on your arm. "Just an observation. Nice that you get on with my mates."