Arthur and Eames meet in their shared potions class midway through their fourth year, six weeks before christmas Holiday.
Eames had slid onto the stool next to Arthur, leaning against the desk with the most suave grin he could muster.
Arthur, without looking up from his muggle history textbook, spoke up. "That seat is for my potions partner, not you."
"Dom Cobb is your partner, right?" Eames rested his head on a hand, propping it up against the table. "That French girl he likes saw him chatting up a third year. He's in the hospital wing now."
"Oh god." Arthur groaned. "What did Mal do?"
"You know Mallory? Lovely girl-"
"Get to the point, please. and then, if you wouldn't be bothered, promptly go to your own damn seat."
"-Never want to be on the business end of her bat bogey hex, though. Might even send you to the hospital wing."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "You sure are one for the dramatic, Eames. It's too bad that you're no good at it." Arthur pulled a snide face, hoping that would dismiss Eames.
"Oh my, Arthur, I'm baffled. Pleasantly, of course."
"And why's that?" Arthur couldn't help but steam at the fact that he was responding; Eames was getting a rise out of him. Which, he supposed, was even worse that he was peeved about that very thing, as it would make the proverbial goat Eames was getting so, so much larger.
"You know my name." Eames smirked. "You actually saved a spot in that big beautiful mind of yours for my name. I am touched, Arthur."
"I don't need this in my life, Eames." Arthur scowled.
"I need you in my life." Eames winked. "I think you're pretty."
"Thank you." Arthur turned back to his book, scribbling notes in the margins.
"Arthur," He purred. "Darling, I wish there was something between us."
"Me too." Arthur answered cordially, flashing his pearly whites at Eames, and completely taking him aback.
"Really?" Eames perked up.
"Yeah, like a wall." Arthur deadpanned, dropping his smile. "Go back to your seat, Mr. Eames."