Hermione Bronte (Hufflepuff)
James Potter never really cared about weather, nor seasons. People always had one favourite, but he just really didn't care. It never mattered if it was raining or if it was snowing; not even a windy day would have made his day worse. In fact, he would have seen it as a challenge in order to practice Quidditch. Or maybe he would have taken it as an advantage to make a better prank. But that changed. And he didn't even realize it.
One day, Peter came to him, and for some reason, (Peter never had a reason actually, he just liked to ask James random things so he could know him better) asked him, "What is your favourite season, James?"
And James instantly said, "Autumn."
He blinked twice, unaware of how that came out of his mouth without him even thinking about it. Even Sirius looked at him, surprised, because he would have expected some kind of joke as an answer. Remus just smiled.
And it didn't really matter that he answered that, because it was a silly question, right? But the fact that something that never was important enough to answer now had an answer...was just too much. James couldn't stop thinking about it, trying to find the reasons behind all of that silliness.
"Could you please stop?"
They were in their dorm, and Sirius couldn't take it anymore. James just sat on his own bed. He wasn't making any noise at all. He barely even blinked, but he had a frustrated look on his face. And it was making Sirius go crazy. Remus, on the other side of the bedroom, was smiling again.
A week had passed, and James was on the grounds of the castle, sitting on the grass, with his back pressed against a tree, reading a book (or trying to) for Professor Binns' class. He still couldn't completely focus on what he was doing (that it was related to the History of Magic didn't help at all), because he kept thinking about the current season: autumn. During the past week, he'd already thought about every single season; he knew all of them had their pros and cons, but he didn't find an answer to why he had a favourite now. But suddenly it became clear.
As soon as he looked up, the answer was standing there. A few meters away, a girl stopped walking so she could talk to Remus. She had several books in her hands and beautiful copper hair. She and Remus were underneath a tree, and its leaves blended perfectly with the colour of her hair.
Suddenly, Remus looked at him with a wide smile on his face.
Poetry poetry poetry! This is where submissions get a bit more creative than most, and it's a wonder how many HOLers (particularly the eagles) are filled with fabulous artsyness.