The dreams started midway through his sixth year—incredibly inconvenient timing. He’d finally convinced Lily to go on a date with him, only for them to begin. At first, he thought nothing of it—just another weird, vivid dream. But then they kept coming, night after night, each one clearer than the last.

James believed in soulmates; with parents like his, it was impossible not to. He’d always assumed he never had the dreams because he and Lily had already met, that fate had done its job early.

He was sorely mistaken.

Because the girl in his dreams? It wasn’t Lily.

He couldn’t speak to her—that was the caveat to the whole thing. To see but never to speak. And yet, despite the silence, he felt like he knew her—deeply, profoundly, in a way that defied reason.

She was expressive, all bright eyes and unguarded emotion, playful in a way that made his chest ache. And Merlin, she was beautiful—so bloody beautiful it left him breathless every time he saw her.

He’d still gone out with Lily, which might not have been the right thing to do, but he did it anyway. He told himself it didn’t matter—that dreams were just dreams, that Lily was real, and that was what counted.

But the whole time, he felt as though he was waiting for something. Or worse, someone.

That night, the girl in his dreams had looked at him with such quiet understanding that guilt crashed over him like a wave, sinking deep into his bones. She didn’t speak—she never did—but she didn’t have to.

It was in her eyes, the soft curve of her mouth, the way she held his gaze without judgment.

It’s okay. I understand.

Things ultimately didn’t work out with Lily, and to his surprise, he wasn’t as heartbroken as he thought he’d be. There was disappointment, sure—he’d spent years believing she was it—but the devastation he expected never came.

Instead, there was something else. A quiet certainty. A lingering feeling that someone was still waiting for him.

He sought her out in every crowd, in every girl that even looked remotely like her—each time, his heart leapt with foolish, desperate hope, only to sink when he realized it wasn’t her.

It was maddening. She was just a dream, a figment of his imagination, and yet she felt more real than anything. More real than his past with Lily, more real than the countless faces he searched through, hoping—praying—that one day, he’d turn a corner and finally find her waiting for him.

He’d graduated from Hogwarts without ever meeting her.

Every night, she was there in his dreams—smiling, watching, existing just beyond his reach—but in the waking world, she remained nothing more than a shadow. A possibility. A hope he couldn’t let go of.

He told himself it was foolish, that he couldn’t spend his life chasing a girl who might not even be real. And yet, as he stepped into the world beyond Hogwarts, one thought remained, persistent and unshakable.

She’s out there. I know she is.

Fate, as it would have it, was waiting for him to mature a bit more.

His parents, ever generous, had invited his friends to join them at the Quidditch World Cup—a grand event, the kind of thing James would usually throw himself into without a second thought. The excitement, the energy, the sheer spectacle of it all should have been enough to consume him.

But as they arrived at the packed stadium, surrounded by thousands of cheering fans, James couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change. That someone was here.

He didn’t know how, didn’t know why—only that his heart was hammering in his chest, anticipation curling in his ribs.

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for just the right moment—

He saw her.

He’d grown uncharacteristically silent, which was enough to set off alarm bells for both Sirius and Remus. One minute, he was laughing along with them, caught up in the pre-match excitement—the next, his entire body had gone rigid, his gaze fixed on something in the crowd.

Or rather, someone.

Before either of them could ask what was wrong, he was moving. Without thinking, without hesitation, he took off after her, pushing through the sea of spectators as if drawn by an invisible force.

Sirius called after him, confused, but James barely heard it. His pulse roared in his ears, his breath shallow with something that felt an awful lot like disbelief.

Because she was real. She was real.

And he wasn’t about to let her slip away.

He didn’t stop until he reached her, until he stood in front of her the way he had countless times but also never before. She looked at him, wide-eyed and confused, and then she spoke as he attempted desperately to remember how to breathe.