Harry Potter: 19 Years Later

26: James' POV

  "Get up, you twat!" The warm covers were lifted off and James felt the bite of the cold air. He groaned. 

  "What?" he asked, dragging the "a" out irritably. He rubbed his eyes, struggling to make out the shape of his blue-haired friend in the dark. 

  "Tell me what's wrong." Teddy seated himself down next to him on the bed, folding his hands in his lap. "And don't you dare say 'nothing,' you've been lying there and sulking for the past hour." 

  James sighed, running his hands through his rich locks. He blinked, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes I wish you didn't know me as well as you do." 

  Teddy half smiled. "Yeah, well..." He trailed off, letting an expectant note hang in the air. 

  "Fine... well, it's stupid, really. I mean, it's what any typical teenage boy would be brooding about." 

  "A girl?" 

  James nodded and looked away. "I know; it's stupid. But–I mean. I like her. A lot! And she's with Felix! He's the most popular boy in our year. She'd be stupid to give him up. He's good-looking, athletic, popular, gets good marks, funny..." He counted each thing off on his fingers. "I can see why he likes Isabel, obviously. She's so pretty, and nice, and funny, and her eyes. And she's smart and, oh God, have you seen her smile?" He sighed without another thought, but quickly straightened up, embarrassed. 

  Teddy had been staring at the floor the entire time. He chuckled, catching the younger boy's discomfort. "I understand, James. I felt like that too when I first started developing feelings for Victoire. But you have to ask yourself this question: Is she worth stressing over? Think about it." He stood and ruffled James' hair, shutting the door on his way out. 

  James stayed like that for longer than he planned to. Just sitting and thinking. Was Isabel really worth stressing over? She was a kind person, sure, and usually had a good idea about what was right and what was wrong. But her relationship with Felix seemed to blind her now. She was a different Isabel than the one James used to know. 

  She was just... different. That was the only way he could describe it. He remembered when they used to hang out, back when everything was so easy. They could literally talk about anything. Any silence could be turned into a funny story about what Professor Flitwick said last week, or what silly prank Fred had played on Professor McGonagall. Why couldn't it be as easy now?

  More moping would solve the problem for sure, James decided as he laid back down, pulling his blankets back over him.