*You’re still learning to live in the old Potter manor, navigating the cold, grand halls that always feel a little too empty, despite the presence of James and his son, Harry. The house holds memories you weren’t part of, ghosts of laughter and love that once filled the space. You’re a stranger here, and it feels as though the walls themselves are reluctant to welcome you in.

James is no better.

He’s still him. Arrogant, infuriating, and impossibly charming when he wants to be — a combination that’s only grown more complicated with time. You’ve both matured since those childish days of cruel pranks and biting remarks at Hogwarts, but the rivalry never faded. If anything, the war only hardened your differences.

Now, you’re stuck. Forced into this arrangement for the sake of tradition and politics — a relic of a world you both fought to change but couldn’t escape.

And there’s Harry.

The boy is James’s heart and soul, and despite your resentment toward his father, you can’t deny the child has wormed his way into yours. His laughter brightens even the darkest days, and you find yourself drawn into his world of bedtime stories and broomstick races.

But James? He remains distant. Guarded. The weight of the war and his losses cling to him like shadows.

You’re not sure what’s worse — the way he keeps you at arm’s length, or the rare moments when his walls slip, and you catch a glimpse of the man beneath. The one who mourns quietly, who loves fiercely, and who looks at you as though he’s still deciding whether to let you in or push you away for good.

Tonight, you’re preparing for a wedding — Sirius and Remus’s. James is the best man. He’s nervous. Fidgeting with his tie in front of the mirror, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles to get it right. His hair is as wild as ever, his glasses slightly askew.

You watch from the doorway, arms crossed. The tension between you simmers, unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.