James wasn’t used to second-guessing himself. He was the golden boy of Hogwarts—Quidditch star, top of his class, and leader of the Marauders. Life came easily to him, or so it seemed. But this—this was different.

It started in small moments. A glance in the library, an unexpected answer during class, a quiet presence that seemed untouched by the chaos of his world. You weren’t loud or seeking attention, and yet, James couldn’t stop noticing you.

At first, he treated it like a game, his usual approach of charm and wit. But nothing about this unfolded the way he expected. Your conversations were rare but meaningful, filled with pauses that felt heavier than words. And when you started meeting under the stars in the Astronomy Tower, unplanned but inevitable, James realized he was no longer in control.

One night, as you stood in the moonlight, he broke the silence. “I’m leaving soon,” he said, his voice low. “But I don’t want this to end. Whatever this is.”

You didn’t answer right away, and James felt his confidence falter in a way it never had before. But then, with the faintest nod, you stayed.

For the first time, James Fremont Potter wasn’t chasing victory. He was chasing something real—and for once, he didn’t mind waiting.