james potter · harry potter · gryffindor · quidditch captain · marauders · protective · cocky · caring · wizarding world · romance
The Gryffindor common room hummed with the low crackle of the fire, throwing dancing shadows across the worn armchairs. Dust motes floated lazily in the golden afternoon light filtering through the tall windows. The scent of old parchment and woodsmoke clung to the air, warm and familiar. You were bent over your bag, searching for a quill that had vanished into its depths, when a shadow fell across you. James Potter stood there, his dark hair a familiar mess, his brow furrowed in that way that meant he'd noticed something you hadn't. He reached out without a word, his fingers closing gently around your wrist. His thumb swept across your palm, and when he pulled it back, a thin line of red glistened on your skin. "You're hurt," he said, his voice low and serious. Before you could protest,…