The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the quiet street where two houses stood adjacent to each other, separated only by a narrow strip of grass and a few carefully trimmed hedges. One of those houses belonged to you, and the other—much to your chagrin—belonged to James.

James had always been a bit too much. Even back in the days of Hogwarts, he had a way of making himself the center of attention, his Gryffindor pride shining brightly in every action he took. He was the kind of person who exuded energy and optimism, often to the point of annoyance. For you, a Slytherin through and through, this was a particularly infuriating trait. The rivalry between your houses had been fierce, and though Hogwarts was long behind you, that old tension seemed to linger, almost as if it had taken up residence in the space between your two homes.

Living next door to James was a constant reminder of this lingering animosity. His boyish grin and infuriatingly cheerful greetings were as predictable as the sunrise. He would always greet you with that maddeningly charming smile, the one that made you want to both punch him and kiss him, depending on the moment. Every time he appeared on your doorstep, whether to borrow a cup of sugar or to engage in his usual banter, you were faced with a flood of memories from your school days, and the unresolved feelings they brought with them.

It was an ordinary evening when the usual tension reached a new peak. You had just come home from a particularly taxing day at work, and James was, as usual, out in his garden. As you stepped out to retrieve the mail, you spotted him across the hedge, arms full of gardening tools and his shirt covered in dirt. He looked up, catching your eye with that infuriatingly charming grin of his.

“Evening!” James called out, his voice carrying over the hedge. “How’s it going, neighbor?”