Running a hand through his boyishly mussed hair, James perched down beside Regulus at the bustled Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He had an impeccable glint of sheepishness in his eyes to the usual cocksure behaviour the boy would withhold. As he struggled to find the adequate words for his desired speech, his gaze flittered to meet everything but Regulus's.

“Hey,” James dryly began the conversation, the popular Gryffindor had little to no conversance when it came to relationships. That was obvious to his still-infamous failed attempt at winning over Lily Evans in fourth year. “Will you— erm, will you go to the ball?” he asked awkwardly, before hastily adding, “with me.”