James squirmed a little under her eyes. He'd always liked how sharp they were, how bright and intelligent. Right now, they seemed to be boring right into him, and he couldn't help wishing she was a little less intelligent, a little less able to look right through him.

Seriously, Evans, you're not gonna like what you see, he thought, and let out a rather strangled little laugh. Godric, how did Remus do this every month? His head felt like it was full of cotton wool, and he knew he was acting weird - acting suspicious - but he just couldn't seem to figure out how to act any other way. Not right now, and not with her.

Clearing his throat, he reached out and took the notebook, looking down at it as if he'd never seen one before. "Uh," he said at last, brilliantly. He should say something about the pencil. Or the notebook. Something witty, something cheerful and a bit stupid and quintessentially Potter. And then she could scoff at him, and toss that gorgeous red hair of hers, and stalk off, and it would be normal, and everything would be fine. "I mean, you know you can get dictation quills, right? I'm just saying."

That... had not been witty. Ugh.