@squadmu continued from HERE
There were so many confusing things about this conversation that James honestly wasn’t sure where to fucking start. There was a whole piece about wands and arseholes he didn’t have the brain power to even begin to digest – and that was just the beginning of the whole jumble of confusion that was currently James’ brain.
He’d just been innocently in detention, Sebastian apparently drafted in as headboy to oversee it. Except, Sebastian might be a self serving bastard, but he wasn’t a fucking brown noser when it came to teachers. The two of them had been throwing barbs back and forth over a couple of bottles of Butterbeer the entire time and it had all been going pretty well really. As well as hanging out with a Ravenclaw could anyway.
Except now he was inviting him over to Ravenclaw and James didn’t understand the fucking concept of why he’d want to go to Ravenclaw? Especially when he had his own fucking common room that wasn’t full of a know-it-alls who thought the son shined through their brain and out their arseholes.
…no he wasn’t thinking about arseholes, Ravenclaws or Sebastian Smythe.
“What record you got?” he asked, his mouth forming the words before his brain had fully had chance to catch up. “Beatles?”
James didn’t know much about muggle things, but he knew about music. He definitely knew about the Beatles, he had every record himself upstairs in his dorm. But he wasn’t going to say that, he wasn’t even going to acknowledge it in his own head. Because if that was a thing…then why was he even considering going back to Ravenclaw with Sebastian? Why the fuck would he need to? It didn’t make any sense, and the idea of analysing it hurt his head something fierce.
“You uh – you mentioned girls dancing?” he asked, clearing his throat and making his voice a little deeper. Just in case Sebastian thought that maybe James was going to agree for any other reason than the Beatles and dancing girls. Because he wasn’t. There was no other reason. Nothing at all to do with Sebastian’s stupid face, or James’ curiosity over certain comments he’d made about his arse. “I guess I’ve got nothing else to do tonight, might as well invade the book worms.”
It was completely convincing. James almost reached over his shoulder to give himself a pat on the back for a job well done. But he refrained, mostly cause he figured that’d be fucking weird, but also cause he was trying to finish his damn Butterbeer.
“This an open invitation, or am I the only Gryffindor you’re opening the doors for?”
