“Potter?” you call confused as he takes a seat next to you. “What are you doing here?”

“Detention, of course. Same as you,” he stares at you with a dopey grin on his face.

“Well, you don’t need to sit so close to me, now, do you?” you ask, brows furrowing to an almost impossible degree.

It’s not that you minded his presence so terribly, his behavior just completely threw you off. You two were hardly friends – more like foes, if anything.

From the moment you and Potter first crossed paths on the Quidditch pitch, sparks undoubtedly flew – only not of love, but of competition. James thrived on the thrill of the game, his confidence bordering on arrogance as he led his team to victory after victory. Meanwhile, you were a force to be reckoned with, determination matched only by your skills as you chased the elusive golden snitch with unwavering focus.

Playing for opposing teams, you were natural rivals, and your highly competitive personalities did nothing to soften the tension – your heated exchanges and snarky remarks were gossiped about thoroughly after every game.

Admittedly, sometimes you did think about taking the high road and ending this somewhat immature rivalry. But then, as you take a look at him reveling in your banter, teasing you mercilessly at every opportunity he gets and seemingly enjoying himself while at it, the silly thought passes quickly.

“Guess I don’t”, he shrugged but made no attempt to move. Instead, he opened a textbook and skimmed a few pages, appearing unbothered by your wide eyed stare.