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.
The month of November slips by in a blur of chilly mornings and overcast skies. Today marks yet another Quidditch game, and the Gryffindor team is up early to prepare.
James and Sirius, along with most of the Gryffindor team, have already left the common room, eager to grab breakfast before heading to the pitch. The air in the Great Hall buzzes with chatter, the clinking of cutlery, and the faint hum of excitement that always precedes a match.
James takes a sip of his pumpkin juice, his eyes scanning the Slytherin table. Alina isn't there yet.
Over the past few weeks, they've fallen into a rhythm—sneaking away during the day for stolen kisses and whispered words. Alina seems more at ease around him, though James can't help but wonder if that's just wishful thinking on his part.
There are still things she doesn't tell him.
Like what her visions are about or why she keeps glancing over her shoulder as if expecting something—or someone—to appear.
James doesn't push her, though. He figures she'll talk about it when she's ready. Her Seer abilities are a topic they haven't really explored together, and if she doesn't want to open up about them yet, he won't force her hand.
He shakes the thoughts away and refocuses on the present, his gaze drifting to the professors' table. McGonagall rises from her seat, her sharp eyes scanning the hall as she prepares to leave. James knows she'll be at the match later—Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw is a game no one wants to miss.
Draining the last of his juice, James hurries through the rest of his breakfast, barely noticing Sirius eyeing him with mild curiosity.
"I'll see you on the pitch," James mutters, not waiting for a reply as he shoots up from his seat and makes his way out of the Great Hall.
McGonagall isn't far ahead, her robes billowing slightly as she walks down the corridor.
"Minnie!" James calls out, quickening his pace and plastering a charming smile across his face.
"Mr. Potter," McGonagall replies without missing a beat, giving him a side glance. "Shouldn't you be preparing for your game?"
"I should," James admits, falling into step beside her. "But I was hoping to ask you for a favor."
McGonagall arches a brow at him. "What sort of favor, Potter?"
James hesitates for a moment, then grins. "You know how professors have those special seats during the games?"
"Yes..."
"Well, I was wondering if you could save a seat up there for someone," he says, his tone hopeful.
