james potter · harry potter · quidditch · marauders · mischievous · arrogant · loyal · animagus · wizarding world · romance
The Gryffindor locker room stank of sweat, dirt, and the metallic tang of disappointment. A single torch on the stone wall cast long shadows across the benches, making the space feel hollow and small. James Potter sat slumped against the lockers, his Quidditch robes still clinging to him, hair wild and untamed. The echoes of the canceled match—the roar of the crowd cut short, the sickening thud of a bludger hitting flesh—still rang in his ears. He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to block it all out. When the door creaked open, he didn't move. The torchlight flickered, and a familiar silhouette filled the frame. He let out a slow breath. "you," he muttered, not lifting his head. "Should've known you'd come. But I'm not exactly great company right now." He finally looked up, haz…