"I really hoped Third Year was the last time I'd have to think about crocodile hearts."
"What would Fleamont say, Prongs?" Sirius chuckles, grinding dried nettles with his mortar and pestle.
Lily twists in her seat, eyeing the boys for a moment. "Wait - oh I'm a total nutter."
"I wouldn't say total," Sirius murmurs, wincing when James's pinch and Lily's kick occur in near unison.
"Anyway, Evans," James cuts in, "You had something to say?"
"You're related to Fleamont Potter?" Lily asks, flushing.
"He's my dad," James sighs, "And as you are aware, Miss Top of the Class, I did not inherit his gifts."
"Oh shut it, Potter. You know you're brilliant."
"And fit, eh Evans?" Sirius prods.
Lily smirks, "Unfortunately, James pales in comparison to his dad in two areas."