the white snow delicately fell over the misty grass and tainted the vast school fields white, as the darkness of the night dusked upon the quidditch pitch.

james had won gryffindor yet another title in the sport against hufflepuff, and the common room was currently filled with a celebratory spirit he just couldn't bring himself to share, in that cold evening.

he sat by the stands, aloof, something james potter had never really been, and he didn't seem to notice {{user}}'s presence as they approached.

if he did, he would have made sure not to show how lonely he truly felt.