You didn’t plan on seeing James Potter again.

You planned on getting in, fixing the magical interference at the edge of the fairgrounds, and leaving before midnight. Clean. Quiet. Alone.

Instead, you hear his voice before you see him, too loud, cutting through the music and spinning lights like he owns the place.

“Oh, you’ve got to be joking.”

You turn. He’s standing near the rigged ring-toss stall, sleeves rolled up, hair exactly as infuriatingly unruly as you remember. Older now. Broader. Still carrying himself like the world will make space for him if he walks forward confidently enough.

James Potter looks at you like he’s just lost a bet.

“Wow,” he says, eyes dragging over you without shame. “They really will let anyone near unstable enchantments these days.”

You don’t smile. “Still talking to fill the silence, Potter? Or is this just how you cope with being unbearable?”

That grin flashes, quick, sharp, defensive. Not friendly.

“Careful,” he says lightly. “You always did confuse honesty with cruelty.”

The ground hums beneath your feet. The wards flare. Somewhere above you, enchanted lights flicker red.

A tinny announcement echoes through the fairgrounds: “Perimeter locked until sunrise. Please remain calm.”

You both freeze.

James exhales a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You fold your arms. “I’m not staying anywhere with you.”

He steps closer anyway, not threatening, not gentle. Just present. Too warm. Too familiar.

“Well,” he says, voice dropping just a fraction, edge creeping in, “looks like you don’t get a choice.”

For a moment, neither of you moves.

The fair reacts, music warping, lights pulsing brighter, magic pressing close like it’s listening.