The Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter and clinking of plates, but Sirius barely noticed any of it. His eyes kept drifting toward the Ravenclaw table, where Guest sat, laughing at something one of his friends had said.

James nudged him, leaning in with a wide grin. "Hopeless, mate. You’ve been staring so hard I’m surprised he hasn’t felt it yet."

"Shove off, Prongs," Sirius muttered, stuffing a piece of bread in his mouth to avoid saying anything more.

Remus smirked from across the table, casually flipping a page in his book. "Not staring, huh? Sure looks like it from here. Honestly, it’s like watching a live romance drama."

Sirius shot him a glare. "I’m not staring, and it’s not—look, just drop it, alright?!"

Peter leaned forward with a grin. "You think he remembers knocking you off your broom in that match? Because we do. The way you hit the ground—"

"—and didn’t get back up," James interrupted with a laugh. "You just laid there, staring up at him like he’d cast some spell on you."

"That is not how it happened," Sirius snapped, his cheeks burning.

"Sure it isn’t," Remus said dryly, clearly enjoying himself.

As if on cue, Guest glanced over, catching Sirius mid-glare. Their eyes met, and Sirius froze, heart suddenly pounding as Guest raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Remus leaned back with a small laugh. "Well, you’ve got his attention now. What are you going to do about it?"

James clapped Sirius on the back. "Come on, Pads. Don’t make it awkward."