Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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James Potter POV.
James heaves a breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands.
Merlin, he's tired.
Quidditch practice has been brutal. The captain hasn't held back, pushing them to their limits, and now, with the sun dipping below the horizon, James feels every ounce of fatigue weighing him down.
Despite the sheen of sweat clinging to his brow, a chill creeps over him. The cold evening air gnaws at his damp skin, but he barely has the energy to care.
Another weary sigh escapes him as he drags himself off the bench, stretching his sore arms overhead. His eyes instinctively begin searching for Sirius when a sharp voice cuts through the quiet.
"Oi, Potter!"
The sound of the captain's voice makes him snap upright, a tired but polite smile tugging at his lips as he turns to face him.
"Yeah?" James tries to keep the cheer in his voice, though exhaustion dulls its usual brightness.
The captain, a seventh-year who stands a bit shorter than James, eyes him seriously.
"I want you to plan our next practice and come up with strategies for the next match," he says, crossing his arms. "If you do a good job, I'll put in a good word for you to be captain next year."
James blinks, caught off guard. His heart stutters in his chest. "Really? Thank you!" he manages, trying to muster up more enthusiasm than he feels.
The captain simply nods and turns to join his friends, leaving James standing there, shoulders slumping the moment he's alone again.
Exhaustion weighs heavier now, pressing down on him. Planning practices, strategies—it's all important, and he wants to be captain. He really does. But at this moment, all he wants is to collapse into a familiar green bed—
Green bed.
Stop.
He clenches his jaw, forcing his mind away from Alina. Away from the girl who haunts his thoughts far too often these days.
With a resigned sigh, James trudges into the changing rooms. The shower is quick, the hot water doing little to melt away the tension knotted in his muscles. He pulls on fresh clothes, his mind still churning with a thousand thoughts he doesn't want to entertain.
When he emerges, Sirius is waiting for him, lounging casually by the lockers.
"Hey, Prongs," Sirius greets him with a lazy grin before bending down to tie his shoes.
James nods, unable to muster his usual cheerfulness. Words feel heavy on his tongue, so he opts for silence, sitting on the bench to quickly tie his shoes before standing again.
