Side note: After the war, shared common rooms were built, along with other measures, to encourage kids from different houses to mingle more.
"Dude," Stiles whispers, tapping Scott's forearm. "You know that Potter guy?"
Scott looks confused. "Albus?"
Stiles snorts. "That kid's name is almost as bad as mine… and no, I mean the older one."
Scott's eyebrows raise. "James," he supplies, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"He's been staring at you this whole time," Stiles stage whispers, wiggling his eyebrows, grinning at the blush on his best friend's face.
Scott automatically goes to look over his shoulder, but Stiles grabs his arm.
"Don't! He's still looking."
Scott blushes even deeper and mutters, "It's must be because we beat them at Quidditch the other day. He's probably going to prank me as revenge or something."
Stiles makes a skeptical noise and grins even wider.
"Or maaaaybe… he's checking you out!" Stiles pulls of the most ridiculous eyebrow wiggle of his life. He's quite proud of himself.
"Shut up Stiles!"
Scott laughs despite himself. James Potter is one of the ridiculously hot Gryffindor Chasers. People joke that him, Erica and Derek only ever score goals by distracting the Keeper with their good looks. He has sparkling hazel eyes and a mop of black hair that he preens at least once every five minutes. He's the son of Harry frickin Potter. There is no way he'd pay any attention to Scott beyond the Quidditch pitch.
Scott notices that Stiles has gone very quiet and pale. He is staring fixedly at something behind Scott.
"Stiles what are you - oh."
Scott looks around to see the one and only James Potter striding across the shared common room. Towards Scott and Stiles.
"Shit Stiles what do we do?"
"Just give him a dose of those puppy eyes and maybe he'll forgive you for the game," Stiles whispers, visibly trying to arrange his face into a nonchalant expression. He needs to work on that.
James is two steps behind Scott and Stiles raises a hand in greeting.
"Hey," James says with a cocky smile. He throws himself into the empty armchair between Scott and Stiless and flicks his fringe out of his eyes. "I'm James Potter."
Stiles flails his arms a little bit before offering James his hand to shake. "Stiles Stilinksi," he says, running his other hand along his neck nervously. "Good game the other day, shame we kicked your asses huh?"
Ugh. He needs to think before he speaks. But James takes it lightly, laughing it off.
"Yeah, my parents are in perpetual disbelief about us losing. Gryffindor was by far the best team 'back in their day'." He puts on a crotchety old man's voice and rolls his eyes. Then he turns around to Scott.
"You're Scott McCall," James grins, and shakes his hand enthusiastically. "Sorry about getting a bit rough during the game. You're a bloody good Chaser."
Scott blushes and grins widely. "Thanks," he says, and Stiles smiles fondly at the way Scott just cannot play it cool. He's like a little puppy. Stiles can almost see his tail wagging in response to James's attention (Uh, that sounded dirty. Never think that again, Stiles).
Stiles realises that James is addressing both of them now.
"Come sit with us for a while! The others want to meet you as well." James gestures back to his table of friends. Erica, Boyd, Derek, Cora and… oh, Scott's ex-girlfriend Allison is sitting there with a pained look on her face. Awkwaaard.
"We've already met most of them," Stiles points out, again demonstrating his inability to be subtle. His hands seem to move of their own accord, punctuating his words. "Derek hates us, I almost killed Cora with the bludger the other day and Allison and Scott - " he catches Scott's warning look and trails off. "Allison and Scott, uh, they're friends, yeah, they're on good terms, not awkward at all, hah."
James is literally giggling like a child as he grabs Scott's bicep and guides him towards the table. Stiles face-palms himself and follows them sheepishly, taking note of the way James looks at Scott. Seriously, who grabs someone's bicep? This is not just about Quidditch. Stiles decides he's going to be the best wingman ever, even if Scott is completely oblivious (which, let's face it, he will be for quite a while).