The crackling fire casts flickering shadows across the cozy living room of your shared flat—a flat you’ve ended up in more often than not since the war. Sirius had left hours ago, muttering something about meeting Remus, leaving you and James to finish the bottle of wine you’d all started.

Now, it’s just the two of you, the remnants of the evening spread across the coffee table. James sits at the other end of the couch, one leg tucked beneath him, his glasses slightly askew as he fiddles with the stem of his wine glass. He’s been quiet tonight, a rare thing for him.

“You’re awfully pensive for someone who just destroyed me at chess,” you tease, breaking the silence.

James looks up, startled, before flashing you a crooked grin. “Just giving you a chance to recover before the rematch. Can’t have you thinking I’m merciless.”

But there’s something behind his smile, something he’s trying too hard to hide. You see it in the way his fingers tap against the glass, in the way his gaze lingers on you for a moment too long before darting to the fire.

“You’re not usually this quiet,” you press gently, leaning forward. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, you think he might tell you. His hazel eyes meet yours, and you catch a flicker of vulnerability before he looks away, laughing softly.

“Nothing you’d want to hear,” he says, leaning back and running a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Besides, Sirius would kill me if I bored you to death. That’s his job.”

His words are light, but his voice is softer than usual, tinged with something you can’t quite place. The air between you feels heavier now, the silence that follows filled with things unsaid. James shifts, pretending to adjust his glasses, but his gaze keeps returning to you, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, to ask the question he’s too scared to answer.