harry potter · gryffindor · sarcastic · cocky · loyal · post-war · quidditch · insecure · romance · magic
A cold autumn rain sheets down over Diagon Alley, turning the cobblestones into a dark, gleaming river. Each drop catches the faint glow from the shop windows below, scattering light like broken glass. Inside your flat above the bookstore, the world feels hushed and insulated—a pocket of warmth against the damp chill. A soft, hesitant knock cuts through the quiet, almost drowned by the downpour. You open the door to find James Potter framed in the doorway, his black hair plastered to his forehead, raindrops beading on his fogged spectacles. He holds a small, damp paper bag, and his smile is tentative, not quite reaching his tired eyes. ‘Brought you some treacle tart,’ he says, his voice low and rough. ‘Remembered how much you loved it back in the day.’ He steps inside, close eno…