It's scary if he's being honest.
He's not sure where its come from.
Or how to handle it.
He knows Sirius has noticed. Remus. Peter. Knows it scares them too.
James closes his eyes, exhaling, trying to calm himself down. He can't lose it right now, there are people counting on him. His parents have come for fuck's sake. He tries counting, that helps sometimes.
He hears the sound of feet on the stairs and quickly stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that they're shaking. A second later Sirius swings through the door, he's dressed in his house scarf and a t-shirt with a lion's head on it that James is almost certain he got from Euphemia for Christmas.
"Dude?" is all he says.
"Yeah, sorry, can't find my fucking gloves."
Sirius's eyes drop to the massacre that their room has become. "Really tearing the place apart huh?" he doesn't sound annoyed, but then, cleanliness has never been Sirius's number one priority.
"Sorry," James says anyway, because his mind is moving just a fraction too slowly at the moment.
"Don't apologize to me mate, Moony on the other hand—he might have your head for this."
"I'll buy him some chocolate to make up for it. C'mon, lets go."
Sirius sends James a curious look as he watches him make his way through the obstacle course their room has become.
"Your gloves?" Sirius asks, but James waves him off pushing him through the door.
"Fuck it. I don't need gloves to crush Slytherin."
Sirius laughs, throwing his arm around James's shoulders as they make their way into the common room. "That's the spirit!"
It's a good game.
James's favourite kind.
The stakes are too high for Slytherin to fuck around the way they normally do. The hits are aggressive but not illegal, the plays inching close to dirty but never crossing that line. They want this.
But James wants it too.
The scoring is neck in neck, no team ever ahead by more than one goal. James has to give it to the Slytherin Chasers, even if he does hate their guts, they know what they're doing.
"Macdonald!" James shouts, dipping under one Slytherin as two more come his way. He doesn't have time to check that she's in position just has to hope, chucking the Quaffle over his shoulder and taking a deep dive to avoid the Bludger that's been shot at him from the left. Judging by the cheers roaring up through the Gryffindor stands, the Quaffle finds its target.
James gets back on track, speeding towards the Slytherin hoops, catching up to Mary who's dodging the opposing team left and right. Their eyes lock for only a second but that's all James needs to know what's coming. She passes back to him, surprising the Slytherins who hadn't realized he'd caught up. The rough leather of the Quaffle scrapes against his naked hands as he latches onto it and speeds towards the goal now with a slight lead.
"You're gonna fucking choke Potter!" shouts the Slytherin Keeper. But James only smiles.
Not. Bloody. Likely.
He thinks about it for no more than a second, eyes bouncing to each empty corner and then back to the goal minder. James knows which way he's going to dive. He can just feel it. So he shoots.
Chapter Forty-One
Start from the beginning
