cigarette daydream || james potter

"you can drive all night,"

The heavy stone corridors of Hogwarts felt longer and colder than usual that morning, the pale dawn light barely cutting through the dense mist pressing against the stained-glass windows. Estella walked with a slow, heavy stride, rubbing her dark, exhausted eyes to stave off the lingering fog of sleep. She pushed open the heavy oak door of the Transfiguration classroom, the familiar scent of old parchment, polished wood, and a faint hint of ozone immediately washing over her. She scanned the scattered rows of desks, searching for a place to sit, before her gaze landed on an empty stool. Marching down the aisle, she swung her bag onto the floor and took a seat right beside Sirius. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, sitting directly on the other side of Sirius was none other than James Potter, who was already twirling his wand between his fingers like a baton.

Because the morning bell had only just begun to chime, the classroom was still relatively empty, and Professor McGonagall was occupied at her desk, meticulously reviewing a stack of advanced lesson plans. Estella began pulling her parchment out of her bag when a deliberate, exaggerated clearing of a throat caught her attention.

She turned her head, finding James leaning over Sirius's workspace, a thoroughly insufferable smirk playing on his lips. "So, Lupin," he drawled, his hazel eyes flashing with competitive mischief, "are you actually even going to try and retaliate? Or was that foghorn the absolute peak of your comedic ability?"

Estella didn't blink, offering him a thoroughly unimpressed, casual shrug as she dipped her quill in ink. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I've already got something very specific planned for you. You'll know it when it hits you."

James squinted his eyes at her, leaning back slightly as if trying to read the poker face she had spent years perfecting. He held her gaze for a tense, silent moment before letting out a soft hum, clearly trying to mask the sudden prickle of paranoia her confidence had caused.

The lesson began shortly after, and yet again, they were tasked with the delicate, maddening art of turning live, prickling porcupines into velvet pincushions. It was a tedious spell, requiring a highly specific wrist movement and absolute concentration to prevent the quills from simply fusing together into a solid lump of sharp cartilage. Naturally, James was able to perform the transformation on his very first attempt. With a lazy whisper of the incantation and a flawless flick of his wand, his porcupine smoothed out perfectly into a neat, scarlet velvet pincushion.

He didn't just accept his success; he made absolutely certain that not a single soul in the room was left unaware of it. He began tossing the pincushion lightly in the air, catching it with one hand while casting loud, unprompted words of encouragement to the rest of the struggling class.

"Arrogant sod," Estella hissed under her breath, her jaw clenching as she watched him perform a theatrical catch. She rolled her eyes violently, turning her full attention back to the twitching, needle-covered creature resting on her own desk. She snapped her wand forward, focusing all her energy on the spell, but the porcupine merely let out a small squeak, its quills bristling defensively.

"Need a bit of professional help there, Lupin?" James asked, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. He leaned so far back in his wooden chair that the front legs lifted completely off the stone floor, allowing him to watch her struggle with an amused, patronizing grin.

"Oh, piss off, Potter," she snapped back, her knuckles turning white around her wand as her frustration mounted by the second. The heat was rising in her face, and the stubborn creature in front of her seemed to be actively mocking her efforts.