[ 09; james ]

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"YOU'RE AN ARTIST, HALLE."
Thomas stated, no hint of doubt in it.

Halle Grey laughed sweetly, "I'm just smoking out the eyeshadow, really."

"She's too modest, really." Rose Granger-Weasley interjected, smiling knowingly.

"Look up for me, Lucy," Halle said kindly, to which Lucy promptly complied, "You've got such gorgeous eyes, I love them."

"Thanks. Got them from my Mum." Lucy chuckled, "I used to wish they were brown. 'Cause Thomas's are. And he always had them compared to chocolate. I thought it was wicked."

"If mine were blue, I would be the whole package," Thomas said.

"We want what we can't have." Rose sighed, to which Halle sent her a look, an eyebrow raised in inquiry. That had sounded just a little too personal, but the redhead paid no attention to it.

"Guess who! Guess who I am!" James exclaimed excitedly the moment he'd reached the end of the stairs, catching the common room's attention. "Take a good look."

"James Potter?" Thomas ventured.

"Tom– Tommy, look, I don't know if you've noticed this, but I've always been James Potter-"

"I mean your grandfather, blockhead!"

Lucy made an almost inhuman effort to turn her eyes in James's direction, without moving her head, and without being too obvious about wanting to see, and when she finally caught her glimpse, her hand automatically went to clap her mouth. "Fuck." But how could a stupid pair of round glasses make such a difference on someone's face?! "I– I remembered homework. Sorry." She apologised to Halle, seeing as her reaction had caused her a bit of a fright.

"No! I'm my Dad! I'm the Chosen One, obviously. I defeat Voldemort by day and embarrass my kids at night!" James proclaimed, "But, I am the Chosen One." He winked charmingly at a group of fifth years sitting by the fireplace, who giggled quietly.

"Oh, you absolute tosspot. Harry has green eyes, and what about your scar?" Rose asked, smiling cockily, "You're just knock-off James Potter."

"Well, Rose, I'm sorry my mother conceived me with brown eyes instead of—"

"I can draw the scar in, for you, if you'd like. I'm nearly done." Halle offered, finding his costume idea quite amusing herself, "I thought you said you didn't want blush, eh, Lucy? Doesn't match the demon look?" She playfully poked one of her burning red cheeks, as the other three fell into conversation.

"It's not bloody blushing," Lucy said, "I'm probably just falling ill, is all."

***
"Here's what you do. Listen clear. You go up there. You tell her, Melody, you're hot, I'm hot, it's clearly, clearly meant to be. So, frisk it up in the broom closet with me?" James instructed loudly, over the music blaring throughout the Ravenclaw common room.

"That works?" Thomas questioned, in utter wonder.

"Like a charm, I tell you," James said, nodding dramatically before taking another swig from one of the bottles he'd sneaked out of Slughorn's. Anise, he reckoned. Nice enough. "Now. Here's a question for you!" He exclaimed, flinging his arm over Thomas's shoulder, casting a sour look to where Edward Ackerman danced (if you could call jumping around erratically) with Lucy. "Who would you rather have your sister date? Me or Edward?"

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