Burning Love

•Playing Games•

The summer sun poured through the window, casting warm rays across the living room where James and I were sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a chaotic mess of Quidditch magazines, half-eaten snacks, and a couple of broomsticks. It was one of those lazy afternoons, perfect for teasing each other and trying to avoid any real work.

"Honestly, James," I said, nudging him with my elbow. "What's it like being the only guy in the house who can't stop talking about a girl? I mean, you've got a whole trophy case for your Quidditch wins, but I'm starting to think you need a section just for your 'Lily Evans' stories."

James rolled his eyes dramatically, a smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, please! You're just jealous because I have a romantic life and you don't."

"Excuse me?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "I have a perfectly fulfilling summer, thank you very much. Besides, it's not my fault that Sirius hasn't made a move yet."

"Right, because it's not like you've been dropping hints or anything." He smirked, leaning back on his hands. "I've seen you blush more times than I can count when he's around."

"Focus, Potter!" I laughed, shaking my head. "We're talking about you and Lily. You've practically turned into a lovesick puppy since you started dating her."

James grinned, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Can you blame me? She's brilliant! And she actually tolerates my jokes."

"Just wait until you tell her one too many times that she has beautiful 'emerald eyes.'" I teased, imitating his exaggerated tone. "You know she's going to roll her eyes at you so hard they might get stuck."

"Shut up!" he laughed, throwing a pillow at me. I ducked just in time, and the pillow sailed past, landing with a thud against the wall. "You're just jealous that I'm the best boyfriend ever."

"Sure, sure. But you do realize that your grand romantic gestures—like sneaking her into the Gryffindor common room for late-night snacks—are borderline reckless, right?"

"Hey, it's called being adventurous!" he replied, puffing out his chest as if it were some grand accomplishment. "Besides, she loved it!"

"Yeah, until McGonagall finds out and has your head on a platter." I shook my head, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. "You know, I can just picture her now—'Potter, you're in trouble!'"

James feigned a gasp, clutching his heart dramatically. "How dare you speak of my dear Professor like that! She's just jealous of my charm."

We both burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the house. It was moments like these that made the long summer days bearable. As we settled down, the playful banter slowly turned into comfortable silence.

"Seriously though, how do you think it's going?" I asked, my tone shifting to something more genuine. "You really like her, right?"

"Yeah, I do," he admitted, the teasing glint in his eyes softening. "She's... different. In a good way."

"Just don't mess it up, okay?" I said, nudging him with my shoulder. "You've got a good thing going."

"Don't worry, Grace," he replied, his grin returning. "I won't mess it up. Just like you won't mess up your chances with Sirius."

I rolled my eyes again, unable to suppress my smile. "Right. Just as soon as he figures out he likes me. Until then, I'm just the sister of the great James Potter."

"Don't sell yourself short," he said, nudging me back playfully. "You're just as great as I am—if not better."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter," I teased, shaking my head.