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JAMES POTTER, AS IT TURNS OUT, was practically untouchable when it came to Amos Diggory's attempts at establishing contact to secure a deal. It was surely understandable - from preparing for his NEWTs, being Head Boy, to captaining the Quidditch team and overall engaging in his usual hijinks with his best friends. It wasn't often likely to find the seventh year simply idling by in the corridors, and with him being in a different house to Amos he didn't have the luxury of sharing a common room.
Which is exactly where the Gryffindor had currently been lounging, on a sofa in the homely common room skimming through a book on the history of Quidditch in the hopes it'd give him some new ideas. He already had his team picked out now two weeks into the academic year having held tryouts the previous weekend, and was determined to ensure that they'd achieve the cup on his final year as a student.
Sirius was lolling in the space beside him, practically itching from boredom as he picked at his fingernails and watched the record spin on the turn table. Their current favourite album was from a muggle band known as 'The Clash', a band they wouldn't have known about had it not been for Remus and his dedication to muggle music. They had to admit, it was far superior to the songs they were accustomed to in the wizarding world.
Remus and Peter were amongst them as well, the former of the two seated on the carpet as he sifted through his notes from class that day.
Peter too had been sitting quietly, engrossed in the latest Daily Prophet paper before being disrupted by the sight of a figure entering the common room and heading towards the ladies dorms. His lips fell into a teasing smirk as his foot nudged against James, his head nodding in the redheads direction as a hint.
"There goes your lover!"
James was uncharacteristically quiet when he realised who Peter was referring to. Instead of calling out toward her, or beaming at her appearance, he simply returned his attention to his book. Although, his expression had noticeably shifted from one of concentration to one of discomfort.
"Aren't you going to profess your feelings for her?" Remus prompted mockingly, checking his watch to verify the time. "It's only 8pm and she hasn't received a declaration of love so far today. She's going to think you've died if you don't say anything."
"Nah," James shook his head with a forced smile. "I think I'm done with all that chasing her business, if I'm honest."
It was as if a record had scratched in the background noise, the three marauders turning to him in a state of shock and disbelief. They each wore comically identical expressions - jaws dropped, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"Surely you're taking the piss, I'd assume?" Sirius scoffed, presuming it to be a joke. They had been listening to James talk about Lily Evans practically every day for six years. There was surely no way he had suddenly given up?
"Nah, genuinely," he shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "She's not interested so I'm gonna ease up on the whole... 'obsessing over her and imagining our children' business."
