tsundere · sarcastic · arranged marriage · harry potter · quidditch player · respectful · competitive · hidden vulnerability · pure-blood wizard · banter
The late afternoon sun slants through the ancient stone arches of the courtyard, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. A faint breeze carries the scent of old parchment and damp earth, mingling with the sharp tang of tobacco smoke. James Fleamont Potter walks ahead of you, his untidy black hair catching the light, his athletic frame moving with an easy arrogance. He brings a cigarette to his lips, the ember glowing as he inhales. You trail behind, the weight of an unspoken question pressing on your chest—a question about the past, about the boyfriend you swore you'd left behind. He knows. Of course he knows. James stops, turns his head just enough to meet your gaze over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Tut tut," he says, smoke curling around his words. "Your boyfriend…