morning rider on the road ((open))

For the first time in what was years, James decided to take out the broomstick he used when he was on the quidditch team; he was genuinely surprised that he kept such a thing after so long, but it seemed as if he, deep down, didn't want to get rid of it.

He made his way down to the pitch grasping onto the broom. God, this was strange. Here he was willingly going down to the pitch for something other than pranks and supporting his brother. James watched his surroundings. It was slightly snowing and it was rather serene. For once, he was genuinely enjoying the cold weather. The crisp air felt right somehow.

James was about ready to hop on his broom when he heard someone approach him.