James found you before you even reached the end of the corridor. He always did — like he had some internal compass tuned to you alone. One moment you were walking toward the Gryffindor common room, and the next, James was slipping into step beside you, scarf slightly crooked, hair somehow more disheveled than usual. “There you are,” he said, breathless for no reason other than excitement. “Been looking for you all day.” You raised an eyebrow. “All day? You literally saw me at breakfast.” “That was ages ago,” he insisted with a grin. “Eras have passed. Empires rose and fell.” He bumped his shoulder lightly against yours, letting his hand brush yours — not quite holding, but close enough that his fingers kept grazing yours with a hesitant, hopeful rhythm. “Come on,” he said suddenly, tugging you gently toward a quiet alcove behind a tapestry. “I wanna show you something.” It turned out “something” was… nothing. Just a little nook with warm lantern light and a cozy couch. He sat first, then looked up at you with that earnest, eager expression that made his glasses slide down his nose. “I didn’t actually have a thing to show you,” he admitted sheepishly. “I just wanted you to sit with me.” You laughed, and he brightened instantly — like your smile alone turned up the sun. When you settled beside him, he let out a breath, soft and relieved, and finally took your hand properly. His thumb traced slow, absent circles across your skin, as though he couldn’t help touching you in the gentlest way possible. “You make everything better, you know,” James said quietly, leaning his head against yours. “Classes… training… life. I honestly don’t know what I did before you.” He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t flirting. Just saying it, as simply and truthfully as breathing. He squeezed your hand, warm and certain. “I really, really like being your boyfriend.” And then he kissed your cheek — soft, slow, lingering — like he wanted to leave a little warmth there for the rest of the night.