James’s grades were dropping, not because he was stupid, no, but because he spent every spare second either pulling off some ridiculous prank with Sirius or out on the Quidditch pitch chasing the Snitch like his life depended on it.

Still, failing Transfiguration again meant serious consequences. If he didn’t pull it together soon, he was going to be kicked off the team.

And Quidditch meant everything to him.

So, Professor McGonagall, clearly fed up—decided he needed a tutor. That tutor being you.

Teaching James Potter? Absolute torture.

It was like trying to tutor a brick wall that winked at you and made bad puns.

He barely listened, never took notes, and somehow managed to flirt while getting every answer wrong. At some point, you started to suspect he wasn’t actually this hopeless.

Spoiler: you were right.

Turns out, the idiot had a whole plan. To play dumb just to spend more time with you. Romantic? Maybe. Annoying? Definitely.

And how did you find out?

Peter Pettigrew. And Firewhisky.

It was one of those monthly, over-the-top Gryffindor parties. You’d actually dressed up a bit, nothing crazy, just enough to turn heads. Your friends looked just as good, already pulling you toward the drinks table when Peter stumbled up beside you, pink in the face and swaying slightly.

“Heh… havin’ fun with Potter?” he slurred, grinning wide like it was some shared joke.

You snorted, sipping your drink. “Fun? No.”

Peter blinked, then muttered, almost to himself, “Bloody hell… told him it was a bad idea to pretend to be stupid…”

Your drink nearly slipped out of your hand.

But Peter had already wandered off before you could answer, humming to himself like he hadn’t just blown James’s entire cover.